What's the most embarrassing thing you've done?
Discussion
NNH said:
P5BNij said:
NNH said:
robsco said:
I was one of the coffin bearers at my Grandpa’s funeral. To cut a long story short, firstly I had no idea how heavy coffins are (I’m not the strongest), and secondly having panicked under the weight of it, I had no idea that coffin handles were for decorative purposes only. I managed to snap mine clean off the side of the coffin, under the noses of everyone.
To this day, every time I think about it, it embarrasses me in the extreme. I’ll never forget just wanting the ground to swallow me up. Even though everyone tells me how he would have seen the funny side (and he would), I still feel years on as though I let him down that day.
That's magnificent! It reminds me of some of my family's funerals in Ireland. One uncle's funeral had the widow on one side of the church, and the bereaved mistress on the other side. But the "best" uncle's funeral was in Dublin a few years ago: my (very English) mother had been invited to do one of the readings, and there was a bit of stir from the unreconstructed Fenian elders at the back as her cut-glass voice rang out; matters were not improved when I was named as a bearer despite being a clear 8 inches taller than any of the others. I managed to grab a spot at the back of the coffin, and Uncle J made his final journey at a very rakish angle. To this day, every time I think about it, it embarrasses me in the extreme. I’ll never forget just wanting the ground to swallow me up. Even though everyone tells me how he would have seen the funny side (and he would), I still feel years on as though I let him down that day.
When i was a student many years ago i went to the laundrette.I put the clothes and powder in the machine and set it going.
When it finished i was most surprised to find out that my clothes were still dry and covered in washing powder.
I complained to the manageress that the machine was broken only to be told "that's the tumble dryer luv'.
When it finished i was most surprised to find out that my clothes were still dry and covered in washing powder.
I complained to the manageress that the machine was broken only to be told "that's the tumble dryer luv'.
P5BNij said:
NNH said:
robsco said:
I was one of the coffin bearers at my Grandpa’s funeral. To cut a long story short, firstly I had no idea how heavy coffins are (I’m not the strongest), and secondly having panicked under the weight of it, I had no idea that coffin handles were for decorative purposes only. I managed to snap mine clean off the side of the coffin, under the noses of everyone.
To this day, every time I think about it, it embarrasses me in the extreme. I’ll never forget just wanting the ground to swallow me up. Even though everyone tells me how he would have seen the funny side (and he would), I still feel years on as though I let him down that day.
That's magnificent! It reminds me of some of my family's funerals in Ireland. One uncle's funeral had the widow on one side of the church, and the bereaved mistress on the other side. But the "best" uncle's funeral was in Dublin a few years ago: my (very English) mother had been invited to do one of the readings, and there was a bit of stir from the unreconstructed Fenian elders at the back as her cut-glass voice rang out; matters were not improved when I was named as a bearer despite being a clear 8 inches taller than any of the others. I managed to grab a spot at the back of the coffin, and Uncle J made his final journey at a very rakish angle. To this day, every time I think about it, it embarrasses me in the extreme. I’ll never forget just wanting the ground to swallow me up. Even though everyone tells me how he would have seen the funny side (and he would), I still feel years on as though I let him down that day.
When I was in the first year in uni, living in halls, we had Val, the cleaning lady, who was old enough to be our mother, but she was a full on MILF (or whatever we called MILFs back then) and we all had a sweepstake - a fiver from each us to whoever shagged first.
I'd been out on a very heavy night of student drinking and had passed out b
k naked on top of my bed in the early hours of the morning, I apparently did not hear her knock the door, use the master key to open the door, but I did hear her close the door behind herself and woke up to find my bin had been emptied.
When I relayed the story to the other residents of the corridor, they all said I should pay up my £5 now, as if she hadn't gone for it then, she was never going to. The constant piss taking and the fact I couldn't look her in the eye ever again, meant I was glad to move out of halls for the 2nd year.
I'd been out on a very heavy night of student drinking and had passed out b
k naked on top of my bed in the early hours of the morning, I apparently did not hear her knock the door, use the master key to open the door, but I did hear her close the door behind herself and woke up to find my bin had been emptied.When I relayed the story to the other residents of the corridor, they all said I should pay up my £5 now, as if she hadn't gone for it then, she was never going to. The constant piss taking and the fact I couldn't look her in the eye ever again, meant I was glad to move out of halls for the 2nd year.
Motorman74 said:
When I was in the first year in uni, living in halls, we had Val, the cleaning lady, who was old enough to be our mother, but she was a full on MILF (or whatever we called MILFs back then) and we all had a sweepstake - a fiver from each us to whoever shagged first.
I'd been out on a very heavy night of student drinking and had passed out bk naked on top of my bed in the early hours of the morning, I apparently did not hear her knock the door, use the master key to open the door, but I did hear her close the door behind herself and woke up to find my bin had been emptied.
When I relayed the story to the other residents of the corridor, they all said I should pay up my £5 now, as if she hadn't gone for it then, she was never going to. The constant piss taking and the fact I couldn't look her in the eye ever again, meant I was glad to move out of halls for the 2nd year.
That’s a euphemism I haven’t heard before.I'd been out on a very heavy night of student drinking and had passed out b
k naked on top of my bed in the early hours of the morning, I apparently did not hear her knock the door, use the master key to open the door, but I did hear her close the door behind herself and woke up to find my bin had been emptied.When I relayed the story to the other residents of the corridor, they all said I should pay up my £5 now, as if she hadn't gone for it then, she was never going to. The constant piss taking and the fact I couldn't look her in the eye ever again, meant I was glad to move out of halls for the 2nd year.
Wacky Racer said:
Having a wk when I was a 14yr old schoolboy over a Mayfair magazine in the toilets of The Manchester to London express, but I forgot to lock the door and a seventy year old woman burst in, 
Given this is ph, it might have been over some of the motoring content that bizarrely used to feature! k when I was a 14yr old schoolboy over a Mayfair magazine in the toilets of The Manchester to London express, but I forgot to lock the door and a seventy year old woman burst in, austinsmirk said:
Wacky Racer said:
Having a wk when I was a 14yr old schoolboy over a Mayfair magazine in the toilets of The Manchester to London express, but I forgot to lock the door and a seventy year old woman burst in,
Given this is ph, it might have been over some of the motoring content that bizarrely used to feature! k when I was a 14yr old schoolboy over a Mayfair magazine in the toilets of The Manchester to London express, but I forgot to lock the door and a seventy year old woman burst in, 
Many years ago I was at my friend's wedding. I ended up getting with his sister. For inexplicable reasons we moved all her things from her hotel to mine. Anyway the morning after we were going at it when there was a knock on the door. We stopped to realise the door was opening. The cleaners were coming in. Cue me runntat the door with an erection trying desperately to slam it shut before they got in.
1....A pal was moving into a home with his girlfriend, I happened to be driving past when I spotted him and the “Decorator” out front cleaning the paint brushes in the skip, stop for a chat, when I spy a sky cable going up front of house and in to the front bedroom, proceed to rant that bedrooms are not for watching sky in, but for rogering his new misses non stop in every position known to man, I was then introduced to the “Decorator”, yep, her DAD.
2....Many years ago on the first night of our Greek island holiday, approx 10pm and we are sitting on the 6th floor balcony of our hotel room, me in my pants, wife comes out of room and slides the patio doors across, when we hear the dreaded click. Bugger, locked out. I ended up climbing into next doors balcony, waking the elderly German couple, and walking through their room and down to reception, I’ll never forget her face peering at me from the bed. We had another 10 days of their strange looks at breakfast.
3....Approx 14 yrs old and on holiday in Corfu with the parents, had spent all day eating the food of choice for weird 14 yr olds, processed cheese slices, with a layer of French mustard and slices of red onions, had about 15. All was well until we went for a meal that evening, ordered food, took a large swig of my ice cold coke, and promptly brought up the aforementioned 15 cheese slices, as it hit the floor between my legs it covered my legs, my parents and brothers legs, and pretty much all those on the tables around us. I had to stand up and walk through the packed restaurant with my mum, covered in puke. My dad and brother stayed and had their meal, animals, LOL.
2....Many years ago on the first night of our Greek island holiday, approx 10pm and we are sitting on the 6th floor balcony of our hotel room, me in my pants, wife comes out of room and slides the patio doors across, when we hear the dreaded click. Bugger, locked out. I ended up climbing into next doors balcony, waking the elderly German couple, and walking through their room and down to reception, I’ll never forget her face peering at me from the bed. We had another 10 days of their strange looks at breakfast.
3....Approx 14 yrs old and on holiday in Corfu with the parents, had spent all day eating the food of choice for weird 14 yr olds, processed cheese slices, with a layer of French mustard and slices of red onions, had about 15. All was well until we went for a meal that evening, ordered food, took a large swig of my ice cold coke, and promptly brought up the aforementioned 15 cheese slices, as it hit the floor between my legs it covered my legs, my parents and brothers legs, and pretty much all those on the tables around us. I had to stand up and walk through the packed restaurant with my mum, covered in puke. My dad and brother stayed and had their meal, animals, LOL.
A few years ago (20!) I was a twenty something guy who was seeing a married woman from the gym. At the time I was training with the Royal Marines Reserve. The lady in question was familiar with Lympstone where the RM training centre is based.
During one of our extended times at Lympstone we are getting our admin sorted when the HQ start shouting my name. Gather my stuff together and leg it over to the tent where the staff and an officer are sat round a tape recorder.
“Now, we have had a package arrive for you recruit Arranguez, we are going to open it, ok with you?”
What could I say but yes. Out of the envelope comes a love letter of sorts from said woman which they read to me and a cassette tape. I can’t remember who it was by, but the song was entitled “dance with me”. They put it on the cassette player and demanded I dance for them, but pretending she was there dancing with me. Lifts, twirls, all sorts I preformed until they finished laughing and I was allowed back to my troop.
No idea where the letter or tape ended up!
During one of our extended times at Lympstone we are getting our admin sorted when the HQ start shouting my name. Gather my stuff together and leg it over to the tent where the staff and an officer are sat round a tape recorder.
“Now, we have had a package arrive for you recruit Arranguez, we are going to open it, ok with you?”
What could I say but yes. Out of the envelope comes a love letter of sorts from said woman which they read to me and a cassette tape. I can’t remember who it was by, but the song was entitled “dance with me”. They put it on the cassette player and demanded I dance for them, but pretending she was there dancing with me. Lifts, twirls, all sorts I preformed until they finished laughing and I was allowed back to my troop.
No idea where the letter or tape ended up!
Aged 16, I took the idiot out of the village and headed to the bright lights of the big city.
Once there, I fell in with a crowd of hippies, the ladies (I use that term lightly) had exceptional baking skills and didn’t seem too discerning about who they slept with, although their dislike of bathing was less appealing, but still not enough to put off a horny young simpleton.
One day one of them asked, if I would join a meeting that evening “Why not” I said, interesting biscuits and promiscuous young ladies, what’s not to like.
So the meeting started, they waffled on for hours about how to coordinate communication, the village idiot was getting bored of this, and wanted get to the aforementioned dalliances, and baked products.
“What you need in a central governing committee” a deathly hush fell upon the room. It was then, that the simpleton found out the meaning of the word, anarchist.
Once there, I fell in with a crowd of hippies, the ladies (I use that term lightly) had exceptional baking skills and didn’t seem too discerning about who they slept with, although their dislike of bathing was less appealing, but still not enough to put off a horny young simpleton.
One day one of them asked, if I would join a meeting that evening “Why not” I said, interesting biscuits and promiscuous young ladies, what’s not to like.
So the meeting started, they waffled on for hours about how to coordinate communication, the village idiot was getting bored of this, and wanted get to the aforementioned dalliances, and baked products.
“What you need in a central governing committee” a deathly hush fell upon the room. It was then, that the simpleton found out the meaning of the word, anarchist.
austinsmirk said:
Given this is ph, it might have been over some of the motoring content that bizarrely used to feature!
Bunch of 13-14 year olds behind the bike sheds looking through a grot mag, one of the guys pipes up from the back "That's a gorgeous droop snoot firenza, can i have that page?"He did go in to get heavily involved in running the regional droop snoot owners club.
LankyFreak said:
Mine aren't that brilliant but they all revolve around one event every year. New Years Eve.
2020 - Drank a whole bottle of gin (i think) was sick several times, pissed on the kitchen floor infront of my then girlfriend, puked in a pint glass and attempted to drink it in the morning without opening my eyes to check if it was water.
2021 - Got blackout, spent the most of night with my head in the toilet, left the bathroom, sold my tshirt for £5 and a pint, and lost my socks. Got a lift home from my mate granda, shirtless and sockless. I think he saw the funny side in it, and I waxed lyrical about how beautiful the interior on his car was.
2022 - Drank too much again, left the event I was at, walked to find a quiet bench, vommed at my feet, fell asleep on a bench. Woke up to fireworks and a romanian bloke checking if I was alright. Missed the fking bells.
2023 - I will update next year, hopefully funny.
Makes for pretty sad reading.2020 - Drank a whole bottle of gin (i think) was sick several times, pissed on the kitchen floor infront of my then girlfriend, puked in a pint glass and attempted to drink it in the morning without opening my eyes to check if it was water.
2021 - Got blackout, spent the most of night with my head in the toilet, left the bathroom, sold my tshirt for £5 and a pint, and lost my socks. Got a lift home from my mate granda, shirtless and sockless. I think he saw the funny side in it, and I waxed lyrical about how beautiful the interior on his car was.
2022 - Drank too much again, left the event I was at, walked to find a quiet bench, vommed at my feet, fell asleep on a bench. Woke up to fireworks and a romanian bloke checking if I was alright. Missed the f
king bells.2023 - I will update next year, hopefully funny.
I'd definitely be embarrassed.
This resurrected thread has had me reading from p1 over the last couple of days.
The below tale from almost 9 yrs ago is a fine piece of prose, and had me in tears of laughter. Don't care if it's true, or not, one the best posts I've read on PH
The below tale from almost 9 yrs ago is a fine piece of prose, and had me in tears of laughter. Don't care if it's true, or not, one the best posts I've read on PH
Chim said:
We seem to have developed a bit of theme here, so in keeping with it I have cast my mind back to the halcyon days of youth. Given the years I have had to traverse in my mind to get there this has been no mean feet I can tell you. Still, I believe the tale should be worthy of repose and is most definitely in keeping with the sorry tales of anal ejaculation that we have been graced with so far.
Lets set the scene, I have travelled back through the distant and dusty corners of my memory to the Eighties, a grand time of liberation, bad music, rather diverse styles, good TV and, my own personal favourite, Disco's. It was at one of these great establishments that my story begins, Disco’s it has to said, contained all elements of what made the Eighties great. We had dance floors filled with more diverse creatures than the Alien bar scene from Star Wars, we had Punks, Mods, Goths, Rockers, casuals, electro's and of course the pinnacle of vanity the New Romantics accompanied by their flouncing would-be poofter friends, plastered in make up and desperately trying to look like Boy George, all of these folks trying to out dance one another in the style of the last music video they had watched on TOTP. Unfortunately though each style group had a certain dance, this dance had to be adhered to at all times (unwritten rule number 47). This then resulted in an amazing concoction of moves being laid down to the sounds of Duran Duran. Watching a punk pogo to RIO, mods putting on their best Sugs impression and Goths waving a tree limb around while trying their best to look suicidal was, it has to be said, rather hilarious.
I digress though, back to the tale. It was at one such Disco that my tale of woe begins, having managed to conjure up a fiver between us my erstwhile partner in crime and I headed off for a night on the town. Since it was not exactly a rather large town we where somewhat limited in the choice of venue though, in fact choice is perhaps to strong a word as there was only one Disco in town, I say Disco, it was actually more a multi function hall at the back of the pub that doubled as the rotary club and masonic clubs main hall. This hall was rigged out though in fine style, that style being a DJ with a double record deck and a big black box in front of him with some multi-coloured light bulbs in it. These though where augmented by a few spotlights hung from the ceiling and some rather dodgy speakers attached loosely to each corner of the wall
Still, only 50p entry and it was always mobbed on a Friday. So in we swanker at about 10 O'clock having already partook of a few beers in the front bar we made our way to the bar and ordered our first two pints of snakebite, for those of you unfamiliar with this eighties favourite I will explain, snakebite, well named, was in fact a mixture of lager and cider with a dash of black current for additional flavor. The reason I say it was well named was due to its effects. For some reason unknown to science it resulted in your legs getting totally pissed before the rest of you caught up, much in the way that a snakebite will numb the part it hits first before moving on to cause complete paralysis. The timing of the gradual legs up drunken state was of course dictated by the amount consumed, invariably though it took your head quite a time to catch up on your legs.
Again I digress though, so snakebite in hand we took our place at the rather sorry looking mahogany rail that surrounded the dance floor ready to ogle, in the coolest possible way of course, the young ladies assembled around their handbags on the dance floor. On viewing the said young ladies it was clear that the night held much promise as a rather drunken hen party group where already assembled and had obviously consumed way to many half pints of snakebite already. Odd thing with the eighties, the only difference between alcohol that was consumed by each sex was the size of the glass, half pints for them, pints for us, another odd point was the effect, in men, it was legs up, in women head down. This meant they could retain composure on the dance floor while gibbering like incoherent chickens.
So there we are overlooking the prey on the dance floor and after some serious discussion on the various merits of each fine young lady such as, big tits, great legs, fat as fk, big arse, buck teeth, stupid hair, to much make up etc etc we eventually, after another couple of rounds, selected our targets.
Its an amazing fact though that after a few beers certain prior attributes that at first lead to immediate rejection of certain targets appear to disappear, once more this seems to have a direct causal relationship to the effects of snakebite, in this instance on the eyesight. So with targets selected we move on to the dance floor, pulling lines at the ready.
“Wan’t tay dance hen” this was in fact a very popular line in Scotland and I believe remains so to this day. A positive response tends to indicate that you are “in there”. Failure to get a positive though is a crushing blow in most cases that leads to you slinking back off to the mahagony rail for the remainder of the evening. On this occasion though it was successful and after a few more classic pulling lines such as “ where ya Fae”, “Wits yur name” and “dae ya huv a joab” I established that I was indeed “in there”. This revelation came about by way of her failure to reply in anything remotely resembling English as the snakebite had obviously completely destroyed her capability for speech. Chat up successful I took her by the hand a led her off to the bar.
So stood at the bar and feeling flush I splurged out and bought her another halfpint of snakebite, we then took a seat she proceeded to drool over me while attempting to speak, combined with the volume of the music this was a hopeless exercise so giving in she lurched her head forward and we spent the next 10 minutes with our mouths locked together playing tongue tennis. During this game my hands attempted to establish the level of her drunken stupor by seeing how far up her skirt they could go without getting slapped away. Boy was she pissed.
Meanwhile my erstwhile partner in crime had also been quite successful and he and his new bow joined us at the table. The young ladies, both in a similar state, managed, in the way that only drunk women can, to have a conversation with each other. Over the years I have learned the neither of them actually have a clue, or any interest in fact, of what each are actually attempting to say. They just make lots of noise towards each other while nodding a lot. This was convenient though as it allowed me and matey to hatch our plans, as per the norm though these plans where rather simple, although they always seemed brilliant an inspired at the time. Take them back to his flat, decide who gets the double bed and see whether we can get some money of them for the taxi. Bonus points if we can get them to pay for the burgers from the late night snack van
Plans made though we butter them up with a couple more snakebites, few slow dances, some face sucking then head off after the last dance to the taxi rank. By this time though the snakebite had very much caught up with my young ladies legs and she was rather rubber, slightly more coherent though as the effect seems to move down the body thus freeing up the head and mouth and allowing a semblance of conversation. So back to my mates, some attempted small talk on the couch, couple of fake yawns and I suggest heading to the bedroom for the main event of the evening to which she agrees.
All going really well at this point, where is the drama, where is the st in fact, I hear you say. Don’t worry, its coming, in fact it came at much the same time as she did. Between trying to kiss the face of each other we strip and get in the bed, for me one of the better effects of snakebite, provided it is not consumed in large quantities, is the ability to stay the course, by virtue of getting drunk from the legs up the little fellow is a bit pissed, he gets up easily enough for the action but tends to be a bit insensitive and thus goes on for ages. This pleases the young girlie, she on the other hand is still totally bladdered, particulary from the waste down
So, 10 minutes into me pounding away from behind like a convict on a rock pile, her face is redder than an overripe tomato and she is groaning and grunting like a drunk wrestler. As she picks up the tempo and begins to squeal I pick up the pace feeling like a bit of a champion. At this point she starts shouting that she is going to cum, with me encouraging her all the way. One final push as her back is arched downward and her face firmly in the pillow and boy does she cum, squealing like a stuck pig………. this is followed by another eruption…..this one though not from her love hole, instead it comes from the ahole….. the ahole that I am currently staring down at while pounding her from behind. I was stunned, having been about to offload myself I could do nothing but watch as she, totally unaware and thinking she is climaxing again no doubt, forces out, at a tremendous rate of knots, a massive tide of blackcurrent stained, sticky diarrhea. As her anus at that point was currently pointing directly at my face and my mouth was open in complete shock I could do nothing but watch in horror, as this spray of forced runny st shot out at me. With my jaw so agape I unfortunately got to taste the results of this tremendous climax, I can tell at this point , st really does taste like…… well….. st.
I was fking covered in the stuff, I looked like someone had just pepper sprayed me with the hose from a silage truck. Where it had missed me it had hit the wall behind causing this strange me shaped outline in st. She on the other hand was virtually untouched by it. As I let out an almighty “WHAT THE fk” type roar she pulled off of me, turned around and proceeded to scream. She then jumped off the bed, ran out the room while picking her clothes up behind her, ran through the living room still screaming and totally buck naked, straight past my startled mate and his girlfriend who are still on the couch. She then headed straight out the door and was last seen running naked down the middle of the street.
Wondering what the hell had went on they both came rushing into the bedroom to find me still kneeling on the bed in the position she had left me, covered with st, bits dripping off my chin. Matey at this point just burst into fits of laughter, his girlfriend for the night though was a tad less impressed and proceeded to heave up all over the carpet and then quickly followed the screaming naked bird out the door.
The clean up operation was not pleasant, it has though provided us with a good tale to tell over the years.
Lets set the scene, I have travelled back through the distant and dusty corners of my memory to the Eighties, a grand time of liberation, bad music, rather diverse styles, good TV and, my own personal favourite, Disco's. It was at one of these great establishments that my story begins, Disco’s it has to said, contained all elements of what made the Eighties great. We had dance floors filled with more diverse creatures than the Alien bar scene from Star Wars, we had Punks, Mods, Goths, Rockers, casuals, electro's and of course the pinnacle of vanity the New Romantics accompanied by their flouncing would-be poofter friends, plastered in make up and desperately trying to look like Boy George, all of these folks trying to out dance one another in the style of the last music video they had watched on TOTP. Unfortunately though each style group had a certain dance, this dance had to be adhered to at all times (unwritten rule number 47). This then resulted in an amazing concoction of moves being laid down to the sounds of Duran Duran. Watching a punk pogo to RIO, mods putting on their best Sugs impression and Goths waving a tree limb around while trying their best to look suicidal was, it has to be said, rather hilarious.
I digress though, back to the tale. It was at one such Disco that my tale of woe begins, having managed to conjure up a fiver between us my erstwhile partner in crime and I headed off for a night on the town. Since it was not exactly a rather large town we where somewhat limited in the choice of venue though, in fact choice is perhaps to strong a word as there was only one Disco in town, I say Disco, it was actually more a multi function hall at the back of the pub that doubled as the rotary club and masonic clubs main hall. This hall was rigged out though in fine style, that style being a DJ with a double record deck and a big black box in front of him with some multi-coloured light bulbs in it. These though where augmented by a few spotlights hung from the ceiling and some rather dodgy speakers attached loosely to each corner of the wall
Still, only 50p entry and it was always mobbed on a Friday. So in we swanker at about 10 O'clock having already partook of a few beers in the front bar we made our way to the bar and ordered our first two pints of snakebite, for those of you unfamiliar with this eighties favourite I will explain, snakebite, well named, was in fact a mixture of lager and cider with a dash of black current for additional flavor. The reason I say it was well named was due to its effects. For some reason unknown to science it resulted in your legs getting totally pissed before the rest of you caught up, much in the way that a snakebite will numb the part it hits first before moving on to cause complete paralysis. The timing of the gradual legs up drunken state was of course dictated by the amount consumed, invariably though it took your head quite a time to catch up on your legs.
Again I digress though, so snakebite in hand we took our place at the rather sorry looking mahogany rail that surrounded the dance floor ready to ogle, in the coolest possible way of course, the young ladies assembled around their handbags on the dance floor. On viewing the said young ladies it was clear that the night held much promise as a rather drunken hen party group where already assembled and had obviously consumed way to many half pints of snakebite already. Odd thing with the eighties, the only difference between alcohol that was consumed by each sex was the size of the glass, half pints for them, pints for us, another odd point was the effect, in men, it was legs up, in women head down. This meant they could retain composure on the dance floor while gibbering like incoherent chickens.
So there we are overlooking the prey on the dance floor and after some serious discussion on the various merits of each fine young lady such as, big tits, great legs, fat as f
k, big arse, buck teeth, stupid hair, to much make up etc etc we eventually, after another couple of rounds, selected our targets. Its an amazing fact though that after a few beers certain prior attributes that at first lead to immediate rejection of certain targets appear to disappear, once more this seems to have a direct causal relationship to the effects of snakebite, in this instance on the eyesight. So with targets selected we move on to the dance floor, pulling lines at the ready.
“Wan’t tay dance hen” this was in fact a very popular line in Scotland and I believe remains so to this day. A positive response tends to indicate that you are “in there”. Failure to get a positive though is a crushing blow in most cases that leads to you slinking back off to the mahagony rail for the remainder of the evening. On this occasion though it was successful and after a few more classic pulling lines such as “ where ya Fae”, “Wits yur name” and “dae ya huv a joab” I established that I was indeed “in there”. This revelation came about by way of her failure to reply in anything remotely resembling English as the snakebite had obviously completely destroyed her capability for speech. Chat up successful I took her by the hand a led her off to the bar.
So stood at the bar and feeling flush I splurged out and bought her another halfpint of snakebite, we then took a seat she proceeded to drool over me while attempting to speak, combined with the volume of the music this was a hopeless exercise so giving in she lurched her head forward and we spent the next 10 minutes with our mouths locked together playing tongue tennis. During this game my hands attempted to establish the level of her drunken stupor by seeing how far up her skirt they could go without getting slapped away. Boy was she pissed.
Meanwhile my erstwhile partner in crime had also been quite successful and he and his new bow joined us at the table. The young ladies, both in a similar state, managed, in the way that only drunk women can, to have a conversation with each other. Over the years I have learned the neither of them actually have a clue, or any interest in fact, of what each are actually attempting to say. They just make lots of noise towards each other while nodding a lot. This was convenient though as it allowed me and matey to hatch our plans, as per the norm though these plans where rather simple, although they always seemed brilliant an inspired at the time. Take them back to his flat, decide who gets the double bed and see whether we can get some money of them for the taxi. Bonus points if we can get them to pay for the burgers from the late night snack van
Plans made though we butter them up with a couple more snakebites, few slow dances, some face sucking then head off after the last dance to the taxi rank. By this time though the snakebite had very much caught up with my young ladies legs and she was rather rubber, slightly more coherent though as the effect seems to move down the body thus freeing up the head and mouth and allowing a semblance of conversation. So back to my mates, some attempted small talk on the couch, couple of fake yawns and I suggest heading to the bedroom for the main event of the evening to which she agrees.
All going really well at this point, where is the drama, where is the s
t in fact, I hear you say. Don’t worry, its coming, in fact it came at much the same time as she did. Between trying to kiss the face of each other we strip and get in the bed, for me one of the better effects of snakebite, provided it is not consumed in large quantities, is the ability to stay the course, by virtue of getting drunk from the legs up the little fellow is a bit pissed, he gets up easily enough for the action but tends to be a bit insensitive and thus goes on for ages. This pleases the young girlie, she on the other hand is still totally bladdered, particulary from the waste downSo, 10 minutes into me pounding away from behind like a convict on a rock pile, her face is redder than an overripe tomato and she is groaning and grunting like a drunk wrestler. As she picks up the tempo and begins to squeal I pick up the pace feeling like a bit of a champion. At this point she starts shouting that she is going to cum, with me encouraging her all the way. One final push as her back is arched downward and her face firmly in the pillow and boy does she cum, squealing like a stuck pig………. this is followed by another eruption…..this one though not from her love hole, instead it comes from the a
hole….. the ahole that I am currently staring down at while pounding her from behind. I was stunned, having been about to offload myself I could do nothing but watch as she, totally unaware and thinking she is climaxing again no doubt, forces out, at a tremendous rate of knots, a massive tide of blackcurrent stained, sticky diarrhea. As her anus at that point was currently pointing directly at my face and my mouth was open in complete shock I could do nothing but watch in horror, as this spray of forced runny st shot out at me. With my jaw so agape I unfortunately got to taste the results of this tremendous climax, I can tell at this point , st really does taste like…… well….. st. I was f
king covered in the stuff, I looked like someone had just pepper sprayed me with the hose from a silage truck. Where it had missed me it had hit the wall behind causing this strange me shaped outline in st. She on the other hand was virtually untouched by it. As I let out an almighty “WHAT THE fk” type roar she pulled off of me, turned around and proceeded to scream. She then jumped off the bed, ran out the room while picking her clothes up behind her, ran through the living room still screaming and totally buck naked, straight past my startled mate and his girlfriend who are still on the couch. She then headed straight out the door and was last seen running naked down the middle of the street. Wondering what the hell had went on they both came rushing into the bedroom to find me still kneeling on the bed in the position she had left me, covered with s
t, bits dripping off my chin. Matey at this point just burst into fits of laughter, his girlfriend for the night though was a tad less impressed and proceeded to heave up all over the carpet and then quickly followed the screaming naked bird out the door.The clean up operation was not pleasant, it has though provided us with a good tale to tell over the years.
Beats my old dirty story. Early twenties. Bust a gut on implementing a new IT project for an Insurer. One of the directors wants to give me a reward and gives me the keys to his pile in the Lake District for a week. So the GF and I drive up for a week of grandeur and rumpy-pumpy. On the way up we're talking about what we plan to do. I turn the talk to bedroom activities
and she says that when we stop at a supermarket we should buy a Mars Bar, so that I can insert it up her and eat her out. 
So we get down to it on the crisp new, very expensive looking white sheets. In my defence Mars Bars were much bigger back in those days.
I struggle to munch the Mars Bar down and pay attention to her lady bits. In the heat of the moment the chocolate and caramel melted very quickly and got everywhere very fast. We look at the mess and try washing the sheets, first at 60C and then at the highest setting. The result is still a nasty stain. We then spent 2 days of the holiday traipsing around the Department Stores in Cumbria and finally found the sheets in Beales(?). I had to buy the whole set for £150 as they didn't sell them as separates.
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