Dave the Hopeless Blimper

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by convoy_cock, Jan 24, 2006.

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  1. There are a fair few large knockered women working in the office lately.

    From time to time they have to come over to my desk to ask questions or use the photocopier which is quite near me. I always take these opportunities to have a good blimp. There is a great deal of pleasure and satisfaction to be derived from having a cheeky shufty at a bra clad bap which is on show due to ill fitting clobber. Taking advantage of that bit of clothing known as the 'Gap of Plenty' is top nosh, innocent fun. You know the bit I mean. That gap between the second and third buttons on her shirt that offers a knob twitching glimpse of the knockers top half, and very occasionally the nip.

    It's interesting that this sort of surreptitious blimping can score as high on a semi-on-monitor as the more graphic representations of ladies bits. I imagine a lot has to do with the 'getting away with it' factor.

    I'm a perfectly happily married man, but i'm a firm believer that you should always stay on top of the skills that kept your wan-k bank fully stocked during lean spells in singly years. I'm obviously never going to discard a skill that was learnt in 1st year of secondary school, when Mrs Long my maths teacher was always bemused about the amount of times I came up to her desk for help with a problem. I don't bring this subject up to highlight my sad blimpage obsession, but rather to mention an unfortunate character in the office.

    He simply cannot blimp without getting caught. I've seen it with my own eyes. A talent I consider rudimentary is beyond him. One of the girls from accounts came over before to ask about some discrepancy in a report i'd filled out. Dave was with me at the time. Within 8 seconds of her getting to my desk, i'd had a good look down her top and established that she had a nice red bra on, with some sort of crocheted flower between the cups. The top half of her knockers were pleasant, but a little bit too moley for my liking, and she looks like she may have put a bit of beef on recently as there was a definite bit of overspill. After i'd had my fun, I continued with the conversation, only to find her giving Dave a very cool stare. I stopped talking and even I caught him blatantly having a look. She was pretty good about it and simply said,

    "Give me a shout when your finished, Dave."

    As his entire swede went red, from the collar up, I exchanged one of those, 'what are people fcuking like' glances with her. She wandered off and I conducted the post mortem with Dave.

    "Fcuking hell, mate. Couldn't you have made it a bit less obvious?"

    "I saw you looking, so I didn't think she'd catch me. Anyway, you've had army training."

    When I stopped laughing at the idea of official blimpage training during basic, I wondered had anything i'd done in the army prepared me for this life of snidy gawping at womens udders.

    As for Dave, he's a hopeless fcuking case. He can't even do distance ones. Yesterday there was a woman getting stuff off the bottom shelf of the stationery cupboard. She was offering a fantastic view of a shapely, trouser-clad arrse. We were all having a good look, but as she started to rise, we went back to work. There was at least a six second warning, but by the time she'd turned round, Dave was still staring like a fcuking Gollum. Bright red neck, flustering with papers and apologies as she fcuked off, tutting.

    I would be eager to hear of any other hopeless blimpers, but more importantly of any techniques or schemes (not including sunglasses) that male arrsers use to further the cause.
     
  2. Is this the same bloke that's only sh@gged one woman?
     
  3. Surely we all (men) spent the entirety of our secondary education learning how to 'blimp', any man who cant do it, is no longer a man and should be removed from the man club forthwith.
     
  4. Peanuts all over my puter :lol: . makes me think you cannot "out Blimp a Blimper". Ms Duke is a well portioned lady on the top, now that she is 7 months preggers she has gone up 3 sizes to "G". She is the type of girl who is abit of a spoilsport now as she now goes out with her baby feeders well wrapped up. Before when Mini Duke was in the bottom of my sack, or a twinkle in my (japs) eye, Ms Duke was somewhat proud of her ample cleavage, now this always tricky for me when I go out.
    Now being a man I often Blimp at other blokes birds t1ts especially the "Gap of Plently", as I do not care for the size really, actually the smaller the t1t the more you usually get to see in the "Gap of Plenty", just make sure you do not get caught when the bloke is about (touch wood :lol: never have yet). Now I do appreciate this is natural manlike behaviour and I have noticed when out with Ms Duke lots of men Blimp at her t1ts. As I said before you cannot out Blimp a Blimper, the only way I combat this now, wait for the Blimper to finish Blimping, immediately the Blimper looks at me to see whether he has been caught, when I make the eye contact and have the look of "yes you been sussed you pervey barstewart but I do not blame you" the head goes down with a (usually) deep red colouring to the neck and face. :lol:
     
  5. Working in an office some 30 years ago there was a right collection of girls/women, with the younger element interesting me most. However, a colleague (John D, picture a cross between Mister Bean and Benny Hill) was very much into the older women .. they didn't even have to be of the larger build.

    He would just stare at them and purr, although I'm not sure if he realised this. He'd stand behind them when delivering files, and would cop as much of an eyeful as he could in the time available. He got the occasional verbal reaction from someone, and a low-key written warning once or twice.

    His pièce de resistance was to follow the women to the filing cabinets, especially when they were dealing with personnel cases whose surname started with those letters that populated the lower shelves. When the women bent over he just bent at the waist, hands on knees, and stared at her @rse .... and purred. He was so brazen about it, you began to wonder whether it was actually in his contract that he should do this.

    Apparently he got away with it because he'd 'been in a Jap camp', and no-one ever disputed this.
     
  6. RTFQ

    RTFQ RIP

    Blimping is a specific art, it's not like a good cheb-recce nor even a Mk1 Eyeball NOE over a hot body, as fit birds secretly like it when you cop an eyefull, so long as you pretend not to and allow them to maintain a semblance of girl-power. Fat birds pretend they hate blokes as a defence mechanism - it allows them to think that the reason their last root was just after Euro 96 is because they are picky, not because they look like a big bag of spam that's been beaten by a troupe of baseball-bat weilding happy slappers. This hatred means they get indignant when blokes ogle their comedy jubblies - and sheer body weight means most of them have a mean right hook, so one should tread carefully.

    There are many techniques to ensure decent blimpage however. Distraction is a key factor: rolling a couple of fairy cakes along the office floor should see the larger women chasing after them like a 2 year old chasing a bow-wow - leaving you to revel in the moment as if it's a 2005 remake of "Ten" after Bo Derek has put on 350lbs.

    Another technique is the sweat-patch switch-eroo. When the gomper is reaching for an A4 refil pad on the top shelf, gawp at her many assorted sweat patches. She may catch you, but will be too self conscience to berate you for it when she realises what you're looking at.

    There are others but I'm not sharing any more of the magic with you feckers.
     
  7. Selection of the correct target is an important skill.

    For instance, when shopping in a supermarket try to choose a checkout where the customer in front of you is a suitably endowed lady with a deep shopping trolley. When she bends over to get kit out of the bottom of it there is more potential for a blimp than if she has one of those shallow trolleys. If there is no suitable target, or if she is bending down facing away from rather than towards you, do another circuit of the shop and come back for another recce.

    Once in position, peripheral vision is the key to a successful covert op. Look at the conveyor belt rather than the lady in question. When you see her begin to bend over in your peripheral vision, commence blimping. At the first sign of movement to straighten up, eyes front. If you can get the correct angle, it’s possible to go from full on blimp to innocent gaze just by moving your eyes and without any discernable head movement. This is particularly important if you’re shopping with your own missus!

    Naturally, there are more opportunities to use the above technique during the summer months.

    Yes indeed. I used to work with a particularly tasty Dutch girl. It took me about four months to get her into the sack, and when I did her boobs, beautiful though they were when unwrapped, didn’t stir me in quite the same way as before. She was quite happy for me to blimp at them at work after that, but the thrill of “forbidden fruit” had gone.
     
  8. I walked into the canteen today and spotted four blokes committing a day one - week one offence.

    They were all sat in a row - on the same side of a long table. It was apparent that their whole reason for being there was to blimp on the Jack and Danny coming through the door for lunch.

    I believe the correct procedure is that the first two blokes get pole position and the second two have to sit opposite them to provide good blimping cam. As they were, they stuck out like blimping sore thumbs. The only way they could have been more obvious is if they had score cards.
     
  9. The mecca for all true blimpers is the airport departure lounge. This is where the gap of plenty - as fantaka as it is- is relegated by the holy grail of blimping. The rabbit's tail.
    The rabbit's tail is the flash of white gussett when a woman crosses her legs in a skirt and is so called due to the similarity of when a bunny turns tail and takes flight.
    It is only visible for a short time, but can be picked up by the peripheral vision at any point within 270 degrees of forward vision by an experienced blimper. Beginners can detect it at about 90 degrees.
    The reason for the departure lounge being so suited is because of the seating lay out affording excellent vis' of the lower half. Also birds waiting for their flights have a tendency to get engrossed in books and neglect their 'knees together' drills.
     
  10. Whilst teaching my kids to swim at a Cornish holiday camp last summer, I had the pleasure of staring at the lifeguard's fan-ny for over an hour. My 5 year old nearly drowned on 3 separate occasions.

    She was sat in one of those high up umpires chairs. From the kids pool, it presented an almost perfect view of her complete pubic relief map. The fact that I was conscientiously talking to the kids the entire time gave me a veritable cloak of invisibility. As if that wasn't enough, every now and again she'd climb down the ladder to perform an existence justifying task. Her Alan Whickers were so far up the crack of her arrse, that I had to perform the most dangerous position known to man to get out of the pool with some dignity, the Buffalo Bill with a Hard On.

    Don't try it at home, it could break a lesser knob.
     
  11. AAAAAIIIIIIIIIIII The mad britisher he has the powers of shinto!

    CONVOY, THAT'S JUST CRAZY TALK! Any man that can perform 'the panhandled bill' is either desperate or mad.
    I tried it once and although the wood went into the straight down vertical position and could be held in place by adequate lateral thigh pressure. My balons, however, didn't fair quite as well and were pushed up and forward so that they met atop the base of the shaft with an inner scrote pressure of about 100 PSI.
     
  12. How the fcuk did you manage to measure inner scrote pressure????

    Please don't tell me that you used a modified Tyre Pressure Gauge from your vehicle tool kit, because that is a starred fcuking item, sunshine.
     
  13. No fella you need a modified belizean prostitute, preferably a caracol farm model, they aren't as worn out as the more popular raouls range, which is very important as being able to get an airtight seal is vital.
    You must position yourself directly above the hooker's skyward pointing teatowel holder with your wood pointing straight down. Then in one agressive motion, plunge downwards whilst screaming TORA! TORA! TORA!
    When you hit balls-deep in her 'old ladies mouth', your scrote will be compressed out to the sides like a water filled balloon being squeezed in the middle and therefore be at maximum internal pressure.
    What ever the lady of the nacht charges in US dollars for this vile act is a pretty good idea of the bollok psi.
     
  14. Being the blimped one is not all fun and games I can tell you. The grief I get off the old man about "swanning about in kit that encourages the feckers" verges on a man-nag. I can't help they only cut most womens blouses to a "pool table" cup size. This obviously means every damn blouse, shirt or anything with buttons down the front ends up blimp city. I try to get round that with those cross over low cut tops but I can't really wear them at work.

    The first time I can recall being blimped was at the age of 9. I was baby sitting the anti-christ (3 weeks old) and his two older sisters (2 and 4) and the parents were neighbours of ours at the time. The evening went fine and the parents came home after a pleasant visit to the cinema. I was just changing the nappy of the anti-christ as he had decided the moment "mommy" came home was the best time to fill his bootees. They had no change table, apparently not believing in such essential items, so I had to change the kid on a bed. I was already 5'7 by this age so I was fairly tallish. My mum, bless her, had made me wear a white button school shirt for the job as it made me "look more grown up and professional". I was bent over and busy depooping the brat when the father walked in. After the long silence and wondering what was I doing wrong I looked up to see him standing there blimping me very openly. He didn't even bother stopping just said "That's such a nice bra you are wearing the lace really suits you." This is the same freak that a year later when I was again babysitting offered to "break me in gently and show me what life was all about" but that's another story totally.

    Since that time I have been blimped by bus drivers, shop assistants, teachers, priests(!), gym instructors, patients and co-workers. (The blimping from partners doesn't really count as that's more like foreplay.) Patients are usually the funniest. When I was at university they made us wear these hideous, white, shapeless uniforms out on placements. I thought the only good thing about them was the fact you could wear full webbing under them without getting told off. That was until I was showering this ex-squaddie jock who waited till it was all done to compliment me on my fine choice of undergarments and wanted to know "was it a thong you have on as I wasn't quite able to tell from the front view darlin'". I was like wtf I had been careful not to get splashed with water and turn it into a wet t-shirt competition so I was unaware in my care to not get splashed the uniform had not only allowed for blimping but had in fact allowed a full frontal view as I showered him. After that I wore a plastic apron tied firmly to keep the shower show to minimum.