quote:Originally posted by Vogon Poetess: I want to do fencing, and archery, and proper ice skating lessons. Every year I say I will sort it out and never do.
You should go on an activity holiday, Vogon. You'd get to try out a load of cool activities that would make you feel all Maid Marian. Also, there are bound to be loads of hott guys there looking for some hott foil action, and maybe a bit of minge. Posts: 14015
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H1ppychick
We all prisoners, chickee-baby. We all locked in.
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I've done archery; it's quite difficult. Easier with a compound bow. It becomes less sexy when I remember it was one of my mum's favourite pastimes of the last 5 years or so (she's 65.)
-------------------- i'm expressing my inner anguish through the majesty of song Posts: 4243
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quote:Originally posted by Roy: When I was 11, I was in computer studies at (my all boys) school when I got my first erection. It was like a small animal trying to escape the confines of my cheap, black trousers.
I nudged Ian, who was working next to me.
"Ian. Ian! I've got a stiffy!"
He looked. He was impressed.
"Look! I can jerk it!" I said.
And I did. There was something inside my trousers, moving. By itself.
"Roy's got a stiffy!" Ian said. "Look!"
All work stopped as a crowd of boys stood around me, watching in awed silence as I jerked my dick inside my pants without touching it.
I was the first kid in school who had one. I was a hero for a while.
At least you were proud of it, Roy. I changed schools when I was eleven. In the first week the boys had to have a communal shower after Games (it was the only time they made us do this). I was the only child there with a proper cock - a great hairy battleship of a thing it seemed next to the litter of baby gerbils between the legs of the other kids. I should have been striding around the changing rooms like some kind of pipe god, slapping arses and forming twisters - gyrating my fleshy advantage like some fantastic gnarled helicopter rotor. Instead, I ran through the showers, ashamed of my extra portion. At one point, I even tried to hop, in order that I might hide the monster with my free knee. Idiot.
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Do you think that incident shaped your later sexual development? Do twisted versions of that scenario flicker behind your eyelids late at night? Do you imagine you're being forced to perform for cheering / jeering crowds? Do you dream you're doing push-ups on your cock while the ladies salivate?
Vikram, of course me and my sister don't lez up. She smells funny.
edit: I aimed that question at Roy, but it now seems perfectly applicable to Jonesy also, so please, both of you... spill.
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if you watch cruel intentions 2 (i have the boxset) you'll notice the twin sisters lez up in the shower thus neatly eliminating any odour issues.
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quote:Originally posted by H1ppychick: I've done archery; it's quite difficult. Easier with a compound bow. It becomes less sexy when I remember it was one of my mum's favourite pastimes of the last 5 years or so (she's 65.)
My mum was talking about taking up archery. She's just retired. She said a friend does it but they constantly have black eyes. I guess they're shooting at the wrong kind of people. Anyway, that has put her off so she's decided to join a pistol shooting club. She had a days shooting as a birthday gift last year and she's well up for it.
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It's difficult to convey just how much I would never do that, and how grody it is to even think about it. Would you fuck your brother? Shove your cock inside your daddy's gleaming rectum? Come on.
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quote:Originally posted by Roy: When I was 11, I was in computer studies at (my all boys) school when I got my first erection. It was like a small animal trying to escape the confines of my cheap, black trousers.
I nudged Ian, who was working next to me.
"Ian. Ian! I've got a stiffy!"
He looked. He was impressed.
"Look! I can jerk it!" I said.
And I did. There was something inside my trousers, moving. By itself.
"Roy's got a stiffy!" Ian said. "Look!"
All work stopped as a crowd of boys stood around me, watching in awed silence as I jerked my dick inside my pants without touching it.
I was the first kid in school who had one. I was a hero for a while.
At least you were proud of it, Roy. I changed schools when I was eleven. In the first week the boys had to have a communal shower after Games (it was the only time they made us do this). I was the only child there with a proper cock - a great hairy battleship of a thing it seemed next to the litter of baby gerbils between the legs of the other kids. I should have been striding around the changing rooms like some kind of pipe god, slapping arses and forming twisters - gyrating my fleshy advantage like some fantastic gnarled helicopter rotor. Instead, I ran through the showers, ashamed of my extra portion. At one point, I even tried to hop, in order that I might hide the monster with my free knee. Idiot.
Double quality cock in ONE compact post! And to think the Moon's heart was described as failing.
-------------------- What I object to is the colour of some of these wheelie bins and where they are left, in some areas outside all week in the front garden. Posts: 4941
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Poor Jonesy - you should have been at my school: the one guy in our year who, in the September of the First Year, was in possession of a hairy, tuberous cock & balls was treated like some sort of fucking war hero.
In PE lessons he'd get it out at any available opportunity (ie. whenever the - often female - teacher wasn't looking) and these sightings of the mighty Watson mamba would be greeted with cheers worthy of Simon Weston landing a Harrier jump-jet on a pile of dead Argentinians.
quote:Originally posted by London: It's difficult to convey just how much I would never do that, and how grody it is to even think about it. Would you fuck your brother? Shove your cock inside your daddy's gleaming rectum? Come on.
lol. anyway, it only works if they're identical twins. they're really close and stuff and can set fire to shit with only their minds.
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quote:Originally posted by London: It's difficult to convey just how much I would never do that, and how grody it is to even think about it. Would you fuck your brother? Shove your cock inside your daddy's gleaming rectum? Come on.
quote:Originally posted by London: Jonesy also, so please, both of you... spill.
I don't think it's shaped my sexual experiences. There was a good few years in later, sexually-aware life when I was convinced I had a much larger than average cock. I don't think that did me any harm, confidence wise. However, as years went by and measurements were passed around, as the odd penni reared up and shook its mane at me in the gym changing room or after comparing notes with women in bed, I came to the conclusion that the dimensions of my cock are nothing to write home about.
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We used to talk about wanking quite openly, too. Porno mags were traded on how many previous wanks somebody had over them: "Try this one. I wanked three times last night over this."
The kids that got the piss taken out of them were the ones that claimed they never tossed off.
ETA: I'm glad Jonesy 'quoted' me, because I deleted my original post thinking that everyone would think I had gone mad.
quote:Originally posted by Roy: We used to talk about wanking quite openly, too. Porno mags were traded on how many previous wanks somebody had over them: "Try this one. I wanked three times last night over this."
Same here. I actually found a porn video at the side of the road during this time, rather than the usual pile of mags. I so wish I had it now. It was called 'Stone Clan', and it was full on german corny action, all hairy chests, gold chains and sunglasses. It had a woman with a clit that must have been 1.5 inches tall. I can replay the whole thing in my mind, but it's not the same.
quote:Originally posted by Roy: We used to talk about wanking quite openly, too. Porno mags were traded on how many previous wanks somebody had over them: "Try this one. I wanked three times last night over this."
The kids that got the piss taken out of them were the ones that claimed they never tossed off.
ETA: I'm glad Jonesy 'quoted' me, because I deleted my original post thinking that everyone would think I had gone mad.
When we were teenagers and we were coming down from those white doves, smoking weed in the car at the cliff tops or jabbering away ten to the dozen after a gram or two of horrible, nasty, piss-flavoured speed, just before the sun came up and we decided it was time to sneak in without waking the parents, there'd be a period of silence before someone would suggest swapping porn mags. I'd drive us home -always in silence, amphet fuelled teenage libidos taking over our mucky little minds as we dreamed of the marathon, sleepless tugathon which lay ahead - stopping at three different houses to make silent exchanges in the half-light of dawn (colours you don't see these days) then racing to my bed, practically undressing whilst climbing the stairs….
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Like Benway, I can - through a fog of years - remember the women in these magazines.
Me and my brother used to hide our pornos inside two redundant stereo speakers in our bedrooms. To the unknowing eye they were just old, binatone speakers but inside them 1970s relics was a world of filth.
I miss them. I threw them out when I started having sex thinking 'That phase of my life is over'. How little did I know.
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quote:Originally posted by Roy: To the unknowing eye they were just old, binatone speakers but inside them 1970s relics was a world of filth.
Heh. I hid mine at the bottom of a Space Crusade box, underneath the plastic tray. Happy days. I can still remember my first wank, working it out at the age of eleven in the abscence of any kind of meaningful sex education. I can remember the girls too - an edition of Electric Blue focussing on french women. They were pretty hot. Man that was a good day. I really felt like I'd discovered something incredible. I used to plan my days around marathon wanking sessions and plan my weekends around shoplifting sprees to get more porn. God I miss childhood. If only I could get back to those innocent times where all I did was wank, and think about wanking.
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I can't remember specific girls, apart from Gina from Club International - I'll explain why shortly. I can, however, remember the stories. I was much more concerned with the letters in a porno mag rather than the models when I was a teenager. There'd be times, when I'd get a new mag that I just wanted to carry on reading, didn't want to reach the finish line down there because then, well, then you have to start from scratch - especially if you've been taking speed, because what else is there to do? But it was a delicate balance; if you read on too far then you might not have enough words left for the second round, for the return journey. But it's like cocaine, isn't it, the first is always going to be the best, after that you're just chasing an impossible high. So, do you string it out, risking using up all the stories for a fantastic, drawn out first leg wank, or do you just let rip and give yourself the best possible chance of a decent return run. Either way, I can remember so clearly the stories from the mags I read as a yoot. I took it very seriously.
As for the pictures, well, they only really came into their own after I'd milked every last drop of potential from the words. Gina from Club International sticks in the mind because one night I spread all my porn on the floor and spent maybe four twitching, speed-fuelled hours rating every girl in every magazine to specific criteria. Rating them to see who was the winner and then going back to rate them again in a head to head knockout competition - like the World Cup. Face, legs, tits, arse etc. Gina won. She tipped it, by scoring a perfect ten for....wait for it "Dirty Bitch Factor".
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There was this kid called Mohammed who joined the school in the third year. Not knowing anybody, he tried to win friends by telling us all he was a trained Ninja and tried to prove it by climbing up the walls of the school building without any shoes on.
Anyway, he got involved in porn mag swapping and boasted about this quality mag he had. A swap was arranged and it was revealed that the poor sod had a gay porn magazine. He must have just found it and wanted to be 'in'.
So he was Mohammed the Gay Ninja for the rest of his days.
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quote:...he was Mohammed the Gay Ninja for the rest of his days.
Excellent.
Now you mention it, I'll never forget when Kev Seaman (yes) did a late night comedown porn swap with me in the dark - the one and only time I swapped with him. When I got home, stripped off and got into attack position, I found I'd traded two quality magazines for Legs and Glamour Girls. I'm not joking when I say that these magazines were as erotic as London's earlier comment about daddy's gleaming rectum.
The one thing I remember from Legs was a photo story (Like Diedre's Casebook) featuring a barely-warm, heroin-ravaged skull with a wig on, who, for the purposes of the strip, was called Minge The Fringe. Minge was a sort of snarling, feral creature, boasting an emaciated, naked body which appeared to have been covered in some kind of war paint, or possibly the entrails of some road kill she'd just dined on. Her teeth gnashed at the lens and lethal talons reached out to devour the photographer. I would later think of Minge when I read of the little murderer in the Sherlock Holmes story Sign of the Four. Brrrr. I had nightmares for weeks about Legs and Minge the Fringe.
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