Thread: Caught Thrapping?

In Belize 1983 this proved to be a terrible problem. There was a handover stash of porn but unfortunately there was no private place to put it to good use. Living in nissan huts with a 2 ft bedspace was hard but to retire to the bog was even worse. After finishing the relieving sht and trying to crack one out then we were faced with the chimpo cleaning staff coming into the bog building and after sloshing the place with water shoved squeegys under the door in the occupied cubicles disturbimg the focussed wonk. If they disturbed me I used to grab hold of the squeegy and throw it out if the window thus letting said paid camp staff know that it is not a british thing to do if they disturb a wristed sex fantasy

This should open up a few memory wanks - I mean banks



Personally I always found the Penthouse blurry picture format to be shite

Originally Posted by Wonk_Mog

In Belize 1983 this proved to be a terrible problem. There was a handover stash of porn but unfortunately there was no private place to put it to good use. Living in nissan huts with a 2 ft bedspace was hard but to retire to the bog was even worse. After finishing the relieving sht and trying to crack one out then we were faced with the chimpo cleaning staff coming into the bog building and after sloshing the place with water shoved squeegys under the door in the occupied cubicles disturbimg the focussed wonk. If they disturbed me I used to grab hold of the squeegy and throw it out if the window thus letting said paid camp staff know that it is not a british thing to do if they disturb a wristed sex fantasy

You're obviously ambidextrous- thrap with master hand, hurl Squeegee Intruder with other. Could you do it without breaking your 'rhythm', so to speak? If so. the knowledge would have kept the Guats at bay far better than Harriers et.al... :D Imagine it; "No, Manuel, go home, save yourself! The Britishers have...inhuman skills!"

When I was about 14 or so. One summer holiday I was a little frustrated and thought why not? The parents and sister where out and I thought I'll knock one off. So using the high tech that was the Amiga I put in a disk of Linda Lusardi pictures that was going around everyone. So there I was, lay on my bed pants around ankles going for all its worth when I hear a rickety noise outside wondering WTF? I stood up and there stood at my window was the bloody window cleaner. He kept it simple nodded and said alright as I ran waddling out of the room with half of my clothes around my ankles.

After that experience I always closed my curtains!

Originally Posted by Stonker

Depot Queen's Div, circa1976.

Wednesday (sports afternoon - ironically).

Heard strains of Ian Dury and the Blockheads' album 'New Boots and Panties' (more irony) froma Queen's Regiment subby's room on the ground floor and barged in trhough his unlocked door to ask for a loan of his steam iron.

To my vast amusement, there he was (all hairy-arrsed 6 feet of him) on his bed, rugby shorts round his ankles, Mayfair Magazine in his left hand and in his right (in a curious overhanded, fingertips-only grip, as I remember it) - his manhood, as stiff and proud as Academy Sar'nt Major Huggins on any commissioning parade.

P.S. I'm having a senior moment - his name slips my mind - BUT YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE :D :D :D :D

I did my basic training in '76 so it may well have been my Platoon Commander!

:D :D :D :D :D

Rodney2q

Many stories of self abuse here. Most amusing!

When i was married to Mrs Blackrat I, i went around to one of my mates houses for a few sherberts. There were a few of the lads there and the lad whose house it was, was also known as the porn/thrap King of west London. You name it, this bloke had it. After i had partaken rather heavily of beer, i asked him if i could borrow some one handed viewing material, as Mrs Blackrat I never did appreciate my amorous advances when i was p1ssed. "Fill your boots mate" i was told. So i did.

On arriving to casa Blackrat heavily laden with Frankie Vaughan, i did the check to see that Mrs Blackrat I was in the land of nod. She was out as if she had been punched by Tyson. I knew this for a fact because i waved my hampton in her face and there was no reaction (if she was pretending she would have said something like "Fcuk off you drunken tosser") and i went through her purse for money (women have a built in alarm for this sort of thing).

Downstairs, i put in a DVD. I forget what it was called. Something like "Blonde big boobed girl gets rifted by three well hung hombres and seems to be enjoying it as she is making all the right noises". Being p1ssed, this was the best grot flick i had ever seen. I lay back, little Blackrat standing proudly to attention, and got into a rhythm not unlike a Spanish guitarist.

The next thing that happened was i was being shaken awake by a very annoyed looking Mrs Blackrat I. I had no idea where the smeg i was to be honest.

"You filthy fcuker. What the hell do you think you are doing?"
"What do you mean" Says i trying to brass it out. "I've fallen asleep watching TV that's all"
"Oh really? Then why are your trousers and boxers around your ankles, porn on the telly and harry monk all over you?"
My response? "I love you". Needless to say it didn't work. Neither did me throwing up all over the stairs the next week due to a dodgy pint (ahem). The marriage ended not long after. Can't think why.

Originally Posted by blackrat_scaleyback

Many stories of self abuse here. Most amusing!

When i was married to Mrs Blackrat I, i went around to one of my mates houses for a few sherberts. There were a few of the lads there and the lad whose house it was, was also known as the porn/thrap King of west London. You name it, this bloke had it. After i had partaken rather heavily of beer, i asked him if i could borrow some one handed viewing material, as Mrs Blackrat I never did appreciate my amorous advances when i was p1ssed. "Fill your boots mate" i was told. So i did.

On arriving to casa Blackrat heavily laden with Frankie Vaughan, i did the check to see that Mrs Blackrat I was in the land of nod. She was out as if she had been punched by Tyson. I knew this for a fact because i waved my hampton in her face and there was no reaction (if she was pretending she would have said something like "Fcuk off you drunken tosser") and i went through her purse for money (women have a built in alarm for this sort of thing).

Downstairs, i put in a DVD. I forget what it was called. Something like "Blonde big boobed girl gets rifted by three well hung hombres and seems to be enjoying it as she is making all the right noises". Being p1ssed, this was the best grot flick i had ever seen. I lay back, little Blackrat standing proudly to attention, and got into a rhythm not unlike a Spanish guitarist.

The next thing that happened was i was being shaken awake by a very annoyed looking Mrs Blackrat I. I had no idea where the smeg i was to be honest.

"You filthy fcuker. What the hell do you think you are doing?"
"What do you mean" Says i trying to brass it out. "I've fallen asleep watching TV that's all"
"Oh really? Then why are your trousers and boxers around your ankles, porn on the telly and harry monk all over you?"
My response? "I love you". Needless to say it didn't work. Neither did me throwing up all over the stairs the next week due to a dodgy pint (ahem). The marriage ended not long after. Can't think why.

You desperate, cynical, calculating, facile, contemptible swine. I think I love you. :D

She didn't deserve you, anyway...

Originally Posted by auscam

You desperate, cynical, calculating, facile, contemptible swine. I think I love you. :D

She didn't deserve you, anyway...

So it would seem old chap. Still, the soon to be Mrs Blackrat II seems amused at my former antics. Lets see how it goes when she stumbles in on me, drunk, knocking one out into her knicker drawer. Methinks she may throw a track.

One dim and distant summer afternoon the fresh faced young cernunnos got home from school. As usual there was no one around as my parents worked long hours and my older brother was away at sea him being a filthy stinking skate from the other bank and all. I adjourned to my room and threw a Santana album onto the Stereo. Due to a blown speaker I put my headphones on and lay on the bed and closed my eyes. It didn't take long for my wandering right hand to go looking for mischief, after giving my brass helmet a good polish I reopened my eyes to look for my favourite wa'nk sock (the one stolen ten years later in lookout camp Port Stanley, 1986, (give it back or you'll regret it you bastard!)) To my surprise there was a freshly made cup of tea on the bedside table, the tea was still rotating in the cup, I had forgotten that 78 year old Granny Cernunnos had moved in with us for a while, her being a bit poorly and all. Bless her, she never told a soul, but I told my brother when he got home on leave and he shouted it from the rooftops, as indeed he must!

Originally Posted by Whiskey_60

At depot in 2003 everyone was regularly bashing one out both in their bedspace and in the bogs - no-one had any dramas with it and it was fairly normal to walk in on eachother ragging one out.

It was?? How things have changed...

On a range weekend at Whitburn Camp near South Shields about 10 years ago.
Saturday night and we decided to head to Sunderland for a night on the lash.
I pull a wee cracker in a disco who tells me she lives just outside Newcastle. I'm weighing up whether or not to go 50 miles in the wrong direction from camp but after checking out her frame decide she warrants it.
On the journey were engaging in some serious back seat groping in the taxi and stinky finger was engaged.
When we arrive, she needs to take a minute as she feels a little sick as I pay the taxi.
She perks up a little as we enter the house but she asks me to keep the noise down as its her mums house.
We collapse on the sofa and I begin to rip each others clothes off. Eventually, she unleashes the beast and goes down on me. Result.
Despite being heavily drunk she is doing a cracking job of maintaining eye contact whilst drubbling on my scrotum.
All at once, she stands up, announces she need the toilets and also that she wants to slip in to something more sexy. I just guess that she wants to give her pi$hers a quick pull-through with a wet wipe to remove the haddock haze.
She walks drunkenly and unsteadily up the open plan staircase, removing her bra and winking suggestively before adding "won't be long".
Now its about 3am and I've been on the piss for quite a while so I'm thinking maintaining wood might be a bit of a problem. So I pick up her bra, have a sniff and carry on with the phallic oscillations, just so I'm ready for action when she returns you understand.
I wait for what seems like ages, still gently thrapping away, but she seems to be taking an age.
Eventually, I hear movement from upstairs and begin to up the tempo, spanking more vigourously.
I see a slippered foot apear at the top of the stairs, followed by a bare leg and adjust my rhythm according, expecting to see this little minx in her best set of lingerie.
I pick up her bra and sniff agian, think through my drunken haze that this little maneouvre will send her haywire. I look up at the stairs just as her mother in a house coat pops into view.
I don't know who screamed first or loudest.
I dropped the bra and made a grab for my jeans as she launched an unidentified object at my head.
My drunken recollection is that she shouted something along of the lines of "gerroutmehooseyedirrttyyybassstaaad" as I picked up a shoe and made for the kitchen.
I could only find one shoe as I headed out the door as another item hit it. Not wanting to go back and argue with her, I resigned myself to the fact that I had lost one of my new Timberland moccasins (that fashion should date the story).
I hopped away as fast as I could and then had a 15 minute walk until I eventually got a taxi.
It had cost me £30 for a taxi to her house, about £50 for a taxi back to camp, I had lost about £120 worth of shoe and all for half a blow job. Gutted.
I always wonder how that was explained in the morning though?

Originally Posted by cernunnos

One dim and distant summer afternoon the fresh faced young cernunnos got home from school. As usual there was no one around as my parents worked long hours and my older brother was away at sea him being a filthy stinking skate from the other bank and all. I adjourned to my room and threw a Santana album onto the Stereo. Due to a blown speaker I put my headphones on and lay on the bed and closed my eyes. It didn't take long for my wandering right hand to go looking for mischief, after giving my brass helmet a good polish I reopened my eyes to look for my favourite wa'nk sock (the one stolen ten years later in lookout camp Port Stanley, 1986, (give it back or you'll regret it you bastard!)) To my surprise there was a freshly made cup of tea on the bedside table, the tea was still rotating in the cup, I had forgotten that 78 year old Granny Cernunnos had moved in with us for a while, her being a bit poorly and all. Bless her, she never told a soul, but I told my brother when he got home on leave and he shouted it from the rooftops, as indeed he must!

I always thought this a urban myth, but judging by your other depraved admissions of drunken frolics and perversions, I fully believe that hot cup of tea story did indeed spawn itself from you. cernunnos, I salute you! (one lump or two?)

Originally Posted by Barrack Room Lawyer

Originally Posted by cernunnos

One dim and distant summer afternoon the fresh faced young cernunnos got home from school.

I always thought this a urban myth, but judging by your other depraved admissions of drunken frolics and perversions, I fully believe that hot cup of tea story did indeed spawn itself from you. cernunnos, I salute you! (one lump or two?)

I've heard various versions of this as well, mostly from biffs who were studying for exams. Cernunnos, fair play to you Sir for admitting it in all it's glory!

However, if an ARRSER posts that he was giving a lass hoop dhobi only to whip it out and find sweetcorn on the end.......

Originally Posted by blackrat_scaleyback

Originally Posted by Barrack Room Lawyer

Originally Posted by cernunnos

One dim and distant summer afternoon the fresh faced young cernunnos got home from school.

I always thought this a urban myth, but judging by your other depraved admissions of drunken frolics and perversions, I fully believe that hot cup of tea story did indeed spawn itself from you. cernunnos, I salute you! (one lump or two?)

I've heard various versions of this as well, mostly from biffs who were studying for exams. Cernunnos, fair play to you Sir for admitting it in all it's glory!

However, if an ARRSER posts that he was giving a lass hoop dhobi only to whip it out and find sweetcorn on the end.......

I have had a lump of poo on the tip of my todger no sweetcorn though

Well not so much caught but.

South Barracks Gibraltar late 80,s young viking takes drunk holiday maker back to room, very dark and thinking mates are out puts on Luther Vandross and gets down to some loving.Just about to reach Vahalla when young lady screams out and eyes look wildy over shoulder,Viking turns to see what has scared her and gets man juice all over back from room mate crouching on top of locker grinning like a rock ape!!
You reading this Bunny? cause the revenge story is coming unless i get a good comment on my performance that night!!