Confessions of a…....
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Mums have a habit of walking in on their teenage sons wanking.
I had such an experience circa 1990, while feverishly engaged in my routine post-dinner wank. Mum barged into my room with a bowl of dessert, bless her. On observing my vile act of self-abuse, she quietly closed the door and walked out. Nothing was ever said.
Happy days!
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Oh? Never saw Mallrats…I'm not much of a movie watcher, just a filthy bastard. I recall it being very popular around the time I was at uni.
I'll do some Internet searching to see if I can find this scene.
PS - I skipped dessert and stayed in my room for the remainder of the evening, due to embarrassment. Needless to say, the wank was not completed.
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at zero dark thirty I was exiting the rear of my home & noticed something moving pretty slowly past me. i paused & looked at what i figured was some nocturnal creature trying to get out my way when it heard me rustling around. . . to my horror the object stopped moving & turned around & started looking at me look at it. This scarred the little bit of java i had in me almost out of my body. i'm standing doing the pee pee dance while god knows what is sizing me up for who knows what. i flick on the back light hoping it will scare this night creature away, but instead the m0therf^cker turns around sits down & i sh!t you not starts digging into my recently killed weeds, i guess looking for some grubs or other creepy crawly. this pisses me off cause what kind of night creature isn't scared & scurries away when you turn on the lights & this is the bugger that has been digging up my newly planted front lawn. so while containing my bladder & the little bit of dignity i have left, i grab the nearest thing to my back door, a rack, not the weapon of choice for most but at this point i didn't care, right, i mean this little something is going to run away from big bad me when he sees me coming at him with my instrument of death . . . RIGHT.
well. . . . wrong, at this point i finally figure out it's a raccoon & for what ever reason not in the least bit frightened by my antics, in fact the critters digging up my weeds all while looking at me. this strangely reminds me of an evil villain laughing at his prey while the poor victim, me, shakes in my boots. at this point i am proud to say i slowly backed into my garage, locked my door, put down the rake, turned the lights off, & went back into the main house & did what any reasonable person would do at this point. i used the restroom & waited for mister raccoon, my night watchman, to allow me safe passage out the house . . . . needless to say i was late for work. f^cker was out there for a little while, hahahahahah i laughed the entire drive to work while explain why i'm going to be late to my boss. i'm pretty sure i have never heard such howls of laughter from anyone . . . . damn shame.
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^pussy
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madmonday, I hear you, those little feckers have no fear. It is actually against the law to do harm/kill them in the Great White North (at least where I live).
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Tell them it was rabid! No one fecks with a rabid raccoon!
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madame buttonfly & other members of the fairer sex, please do not read this as it is extremely crude & has not been approved or edited for content. apologies in advance
hey i am glad to live & run another day. just so you know, a p^ssy is very strong & able to do all kinds of amazing stuff.
*take a bunch of d!cks or other random things, check
*push out a big headed baby, check
*bleed every month on a regular or irregular basis & not die, boom& i didn't even mention random dudes always trying to get in no matter what it looks like or worse smells like. p^ssy is some amazing stuff, sonnets have been written, wars have been waged, all on the strength of p^ssy, hahahahahahahaha
need to go talk to my therapist about my new fear of wildlife. that little bastard was laughing at me while digging up my weeds
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Now I'm beyond pissed. I spilled my coffee all over my desk from laughing so hard at your pussy response. Kudos Monday you are one of a kind.
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Ok everybody. I'm snowed in. I'm bored. I decided a new thread was in order. True confessions.
I'll kick it off with something light:
Sometimes I drink Metamucil just because I think it tastes good. More than once this has lead to me waking up in a panicked craze in the middle of the night and a few near massive disasters.
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Great stories …..bloody funny , killer raccoons , urinatorman unleashes on the coffee table ,
Dumb waiter pauses firemen are summoned , post-dinner self-love witnessed by mother .....Ok my turn , when I was a young bloke and partook in the ritual of porn mags (remember those days ?)
came home from school one day , went up to my room . Do the usual toss off my jacket , throw the bag on the bed ,
at this point I realize my carpet is making a strange sound . Look down and holy shin digging shite , all of the mags I had
hidden , were tornadoed all over the floor . Then I heard my mum behind me say " Here's ah rrrubbish bag ( garbage bag ) , get this all oot ah ma sight ." " Yer faither will not be short of words for you later ." Never been so mortified
in my life , these were not Playboy publications........., probably didn't look my mum in the eye for a month or more .Have to say getting caught wanking , would have been worse !
Cheers
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JDL , glad you got out of the addiction trap …...As for the IH addiction.....good luck !
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Jock
Out of one, into another
Here's a embarrassing one, at 13 we lived in a two family split level. My aunt and uncle lived upstairs, and their access passed some old Florida high windows in my room. Finding myself home alone I settled in for some man to hand time. As I get going, I am startled to hear "Whatcha doin there Spanky?" A nickname that followed me for two years, complete with play by play for those new to the story.
