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Saturday 29 October 2011

Urban Myth or the Real Deal?

I used to have a mate, Adamson, who was in the Army Air Corps. Twenty something years ago, after a stint in Germany, he told me these two yarns over a bevy:

To mark his first tour of duty, a young greenhorn went in search of a prostitute. It didn't take long for one to give him a nod on a street corner and he accompanied her to a sleazy hotel. She discussed her terms - once you shoot your load, you pay up - and they got into the lift to go to her floor. In the lift she started rubbing his muchacho through his trousers to get him in the mood. The young lad, obviously not too experienced, couldn't handle the foreplay and came in his pants just as the lift reached her floor. Sure enough, as per the agreement, the prozzie demanded payment and the embarrassed young squaddie left the hotel without even getting his cock out of the holster.

The second starts in similar fashion, the only difference being that the squaddie involved had struck up a bit of habitual business with some sort. They went back to her digs one night, did the deed, and the bloke stayed until morning. When he woke up he found that all his gear was gone - clothes, shoes, watch, money... the lot. While trying to work out what to do next, he decided to exact some revenge by shitting on the bed. As he was in the process of smearing it over the sheets, his lady friend came in carrying his belongings which she had taken the time to clean.

These stories, when told, spread like wildfire (or shit on a sheet) and it wasn't long before I'd heard both of them retold complete with embellishments - one mate even walked into the bar one night and swore blind that he had told me them first when I'd actually told him the same stories about six months earlier. Only recently, when having a sup with a colleague over here, I heard an almost word perfect version of the first one.

You see, no one wants to admit that they were way down the chain when the story was doled out. I'm fairly sure that the versions I heard all those years ago weren't the originals - fuck knows how long they've been doing the rounds. But it's good to see that they still pop up in conversation, regardless of where you are.

Friday 14 October 2011

Don't stand so close to me... with your cock, bliff, etc.

It was lashing down the other day so I jumped on a passing bus. I was well fucking pleased with myself as I was able to find an aisle seat close to the back of the old bone-shaker. As we trundled along, more sodden passengers climbed on until the bus was full to the fucking gills.

Some punter was forced to support himself using the back of my seat - he was stood square to my shoulder. I'm never too chuffed about my personal space being invaded, and was even less pleased when I realised that his man part was occasionally rubbing up against my upper arm. I can't say for certain that he was an 'opportunist upper arm rapist' but I gave him a "no more!" glare and that was the end of that.

A couple of stops later he got off and was replaced by some bird, resplendent in a classy pair of black leggings, who assumed the exact same position. It wasn't long before her camel's hoof started hovering around the same upper arm area. She wasn't exactly in the best condition but it was definitely a step up from the rogue cock of a few moments earlier.

The hat-trick of body parts was eventually completed when, close to home, some woman got on with her sprog, sat down in the seat across from me, and whipped out one of her floppy thruppeny bits for a feeding session... nice, real fucking nice.

Wednesday 12 October 2011

MILF takes a huge load all over her face

I was researching some material recently for one of my high brow articles, and absent-mindedly stumbled upon an adult web site. Embarrassed, indeed mortified, at what I saw, I immediately tried to exit the foul site only to find that I had inadvertantly started playing all 16 minutes and 23 seconds of material that was surely sent from the bowels of hell itself. As if this wasn't bad enough, I realised later that the same video had inexplicably been downloaded to RealPlayer. In vain, I tried to delete the filth, but to no avail.

A few days later I arrived home to discover that my angelic wife was playing some music videos on RealPlayer. Struck by the notion that my darling may doubt the validity of my story, I quickly prepared a plausible white lie - someone else must have been using the laptop. Luckily, my dearest spouse didn't scroll down far enough to discover the shameful chronicle of that young mother - it wasn't just on her face... it was aallll over her face!

I am presently composing a stern email to send to the internet provider as, if you can believe such an unfavourable turn of events, the same thing has occurred on several occasions since.

Bet you were thinking, "Right, I'm going to have a bloody good wank!"