Kinkiest thing done

I once tuned in to C4's "Four in a Bed", red faced and closing all the curtains just incase a neighbour was passing by.
I now feel sullied.
 
Even then, there's nothing specific about masturbation that's the problem. Compulsive masturbation is like any behavior that disrupts your life -- whether it's compulsively playing poker or checking your social media every other minute.
 
Well, you know those morbidly obese birds, increasingly the norm, well, I like to feed them up...not on cakes and chocolates but baked beans...ten or fifteen cans at a time, interspersed with fizzy drinks. Then I like to get my head snuggled deep down into their builder's crack until my nose is right up their starfish. It's all dark and silent at this point, light and sound blotted out by huge wads of buttock fat...but the show is about to start. It's always so exciting waiting for the first fart...will it be strong or just a poot? Nothing can match the feeling when a 250 kilo five-foot tall munter bangs off a dogkiller. The gas blast gives you whiplash, the buttock blubber resonates at such a speed it is like being pistolwhipped by an epileptic and the smell is enough to asphyxiate. Great stuff!!!


Wah...but, considering the current state of females, won't be long before that is the only sort of entertainment on offer....
 
iirc I heard a story about the Queen Mum visiting one her daughter's ships.She took a dump and some matlot type somehow trapped it and kept it in a Kilner jar proudly displayed on a mess deck shelf.
Perhaps some fish head could confirm or deny this?
See I heard a variant of this, where the member of House Windsor was on a RAF aircraft and the on board toilets were scoured for a Royal Jobby when said plane was being serviced. This was then sealed in resin and displayed in the Sqn bar.

I've not met anyone who's actually seen it and the aircraft type and sqn changes - it's usually 'my mate's mate'.

So I reckon its probably a bit of a lie.
 
Well, you know those morbidly obese birds, increasingly the norm, well, I like to feed them up...not on cakes and chocolates but baked beans...ten or fifteen cans at a time, interspersed with fizzy drinks. Then I like to get my head snuggled deep down into their builder's crack until my nose is right up their starfish. It's all dark and silent at this point, light and sound blotted out by huge wads of buttock fat...but the show is about to start. It's always so exciting waiting for the first fart...will it be strong or just a poot? Nothing can match the feeling when a 250 kilo five-foot tall munter bangs off a dogkiller. The gas blast gives you whiplash, the buttock blubber resonates at such a speed it is like being pistolwhipped by an epileptic and the smell is enough to asphyxiate. Great stuff!!!


Wah...but, considering the current state of females, won't be long before that is the only sort of entertainment on offer....

You have no imagination. Set up a pilot light, aim it at something amusingly solid or at a cliff edge in its lard chariot and wait.
 
Well, you know those morbidly obese birds, increasingly the norm, well, I like to feed them up...not on cakes and chocolates but baked beans...ten or fifteen cans at a time, interspersed with fizzy drinks. Then I like to get my head snuggled deep down into their builder's crack until my nose is right up their starfish. It's all dark and silent at this point, light and sound blotted out by huge wads of buttock fat...but the show is about to start. It's always so exciting waiting for the first fart...will it be strong or just a poot? Nothing can match the feeling when a 250 kilo five-foot tall munter bangs off a dogkiller. The gas blast gives you whiplash, the buttock blubber resonates at such a speed it is like being pistolwhipped by an epileptic and the smell is enough to asphyxiate. Great stuff!!!


Wah...but, considering the current state of females, won't be long before that is the only sort of entertainment on offer....
Dear sir, reading your account of a rather disturbing perversion that you partake in, may I recommend a Harley street trick cyclist ,Expensive, but well worth the effort, it worked for me, now I only stalk and sniff the grundies of one legged pregnant albino pregnant lesbian nuns. My all consuming and fanatical , and I can now admit it,..... perverted passion, was....Organised politics,... there, I've admitted it. I am now fully cured. I have seen the error of my ways. The horrific threat to life limb and mental health that politics produces is all consuming. I have immersed my self in more mundane pleasures, IE, kinky sex, as practised by all good rational, intelligent people, and I suspect most ARRSERS..... Politics is for losers, and the feeble minded. I remain ,Sir, yours, Mr Jay Peasmold funt grutock, MA.
 
Well, you know those morbidly obese birds, increasingly the norm, well, I like to feed them up...not on cakes and chocolates but baked beans...ten or fifteen cans at a time, interspersed with fizzy drinks. Then I like to get my head snuggled deep down into their builder's crack until my nose is right up their starfish. It's all dark and silent at this point, light and sound blotted out by huge wads of buttock fat...but the show is about to start. It's always so exciting waiting for the first fart...will it be strong or just a poot? Nothing can match the feeling when a 250 kilo five-foot tall munter bangs off a dogkiller. The gas blast gives you whiplash, the buttock blubber resonates at such a speed it is like being pistolwhipped by an epileptic and the smell is enough to asphyxiate. Great stuff!!!


Wah...but, considering the current state of females, won't be long before that is the only sort of entertainment on offer....
You need to google 'cake farting'.
 
See I heard a variant of this, where the member of House Windsor was on a RAF aircraft and the on board toilets were scoured for a Royal Jobby when said plane was being serviced. This was then sealed in resin and displayed in the Sqn bar.

I've not met anyone who's actually seen it and the aircraft type and sqn changes - it's usually 'my mate's mate'.

So I reckon its probably a bit of a lie.
I think we need someone from the Old Queens Flight days
 

napier

LE
Moderator
Kit Reviewer
I heard it was in the Stokers' Mess on the RY Britannia. Sounds much more likely than a crab getting crap on their hands
 
See I heard a variant of this, where the member of House Windsor was on a RAF aircraft and the on board toilets were scoured for a Royal Jobby when said plane was being serviced. This was then sealed in resin and displayed in the Sqn bar.

I've not met anyone who's actually seen it and the aircraft type and sqn changes - it's usually 'my mate's mate'.

So I reckon its probably a bit of a lie.
I’m with you on that one, but probably more of an All Purpose Urban Myth: Royalty, for the use of.

I heard the Princess Anne’s pubes version. Bottled for posterity after a royal wizz.

As ever it was absolutely the gods honest truth, my mate swore by it, his best mate told him, a bloke in the regiment told him, he was told about it by an old timer, who had heard it as a dit when he joined up, it was part of regimental folklore, probably didn’t really happen then, bit unlikely isnt it, I don’t believe it, yeah it’s utter bollox.
 
Back in the day I first blew my load by accident while having a wank in the bog, thinking what all the fuss was about.
BOOM, And that was it "WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING"
Pulling it there and everywhere I was.
Does firing off a quick one while waiting in the car for my folks to finish mall shopping count as kinky?
I think it was more a danger wank, I must have looked like a f*cking meerkat keeping toot for any threats to my session, furiously "choking the chicken" as we used to call it.
I often laugh at thought of what the fuck I would have said had I been caught. Dear me, adolescence eh!
First and last time that box of hankies mum used to keep in the car "came in handy" too.

It was a stage that passed, thank f*ck,
I think 20th century males have dumped enough spunk down the drain to populate the solar system FFS.
Speaking of cars, I cringe at the thought of doggers, What the hell is with that, they need to bloody grow up.
 
I was 17, she was 33.
I was young, inexperienced and would go at it like a rabbit, which she enjoyed...6 times a night.

However, when she did the whole Anal beads thing i found out quite forcefully that you're supposed to pop them out gently one at a time, NOT pull them out in a simulation of pull starting a petrol lawnmower.
 
A man contacts an escort and asks " How much to do something kinky ? "
Having agreed the price , they repair to a local Travelodge .
The man draws the curtains shut , switches off the lights and orders the girl to lie on the bed naked and perfectly still , which she does .
She hears him creeping around , but after twenty minutes , he hasn't been near her , so she asks " I though you were going to do something kinky ? "
" I have , I've just crapped in your hand bag " .

Is that my taxi ?
 

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