The smell of 2 hour old J1zz

Lunchtime saw me with too much time on my hands so I treated myself to a sly one off the wrist prior to returning to being a Captain of industry.

I mopped up with a couple of pieces tissue and licked the bit that landed on the back of my hand and lobbed the spuzzy tissues into a paper bag on the kitchen side that was waiting to be hurled in the outside dustbins.

All was forgotten and I returned to work....Two hours later and a moment ago I came in went to the kitchen to make a brew. Noticing the rubbish, I thought I'd put it out whilst the kettle boiled. On approach to the bag I squeezed it as if to scrumple it up, as I did that a whiff of stale semi viscous cocksnot flooded my nostril and made me physically heave.

How can juice made from such a clever and heroic pastime smell quite so bad? How bad does the depths of a cnut smell after you both fall asleep after good rutting?

Convoy mentioned a while ago the stench of Sir Harold Monk as it boiled off on the top of a Kero heater....... this reminded me of that. Anyone else got any tales of decaying flobber that made you gip?
Staying at one of the Travelodge chain always has me worried.The rooms there have a whiff of something I can never quite place.The smell which you describe could be the reason.In the old days the smell of the previous persons smoke was usually masking the problem.
For some reason the old schoolboy retort, "Your nose must be too near your arrse", just sprung to mind. :)

Coming back from leave once to find my 58 bag (packed damp and left) contained a duty sock pressed into service from day one of a 3 week ex. I had to get the entire contents of my locker laundered/cleaned/burned to exorcise the smell.


Doing the rounds of the sangars - anywhere, it doesn't matter where. The smell of manfat sizzling on the heaters, the "track marks" running down the wall from waist height, and the relief map of the Andes made up of generations of nasal cavity excavations.

Not doing the rounds was seen as a sign of jackness. Actually, it was just avoiding a biohazard.
Is it wrong that I always put my w@nk-sock on the radiator in my bathroom after every use? :?

I find it dries out quicker so I can use it again on the evening. I must have grown immune to the smell!
There is of course the "spunk trees" of Bordon. Not quite sure what variety they are, but I hope they're never planted in my garden.
Two hours is NOTHING! Nothing I tell you!

Once, in a past life one of my roommates had a birthday during the weekend. Since we would be leaving on a two-week exercise the coming Monday, we all arrived at barracks early on the Sunday evening before.

Said mate brought a crate of Grolsch (my favourite) other liquour appeared and we gave the bloke his present: Dolly. An inflatable sheep with real working orrifices and a realistic sound effect to accompany your efforts.

When the levels of intoxication rose and our inhibitions lowered most of us (...) had a go at Dolly. We then drifted away in a well deserved alcoholic fume induced slumber...

Come the next morning we awoke to a shock when we suddenly realised all of our kit still had to be sorted out, the room cleaned and made presentable for inspection. It was August, so light (and heat) came early!
During the frantic anthive like activity that followed Dolly was quartered in one of the unused lockers in our room and promptly forgotten about. We had an empty locker that we stored coffee, beer, crisps and cereals and stuff in. Dolly would be well catered for during our absence...

Que two weeks later. A bunch of tired soldiers enter their room to dump their kit and start the ceremonial cleaning of equipment that follows a romp in the woods. We wanted some coffee to go with that, so I opened our locker in which we kept this necessity of a soldiers life...

I, and people standing yards away heaved and had to flee the assault on our airways that leapt out of the metal box into the already stale air! People further away merely got tears in their eyes.
Dolly had come alive! A yellowish-brownish goo had stuck to her anatomically correct orrifices and stared back at us!

She was promptly ceremonially burried and -untill now- never mentioned again... Dolly was the child of the six of us... I sometimes still miss her...
Did any of you ever do a SAS Site guard at Sennilarger, one arrse used to jack one off onto the radiator in the tower just before guard change, gor the stench was gut wrenching for the next 2 hours
Kaye said:
She was promptly ceremonially burried and -untill now- never mentioned again... Dolly was the child of the six of us... I sometimes still miss her...
She was reborn in the flames and is still used as a manfat depository by all and sundry, but she goes by the name of 'Dale' now....
Try having a chug into them big f uck off gloves whilst on ARF at Bessbrook.The dirty water could be sitting in there for f ucking ages before anyone actually used them.
It could come as quite a nasty suprise fast roping out of a Lynx with your fingers dripping in week old gunk.
Mighty_doh_nut said:
....... a whiff of stale semi viscous cocksnot flooded my nostril and made me physically heave.
Semen didn't ought to smell THAT bad. :omg:
Must just be YOURS. :D
Perhaps you've got a dose? :omfg:
Nothing worse than your normally sweet, creamy and nutritious offerings to your wife turning lumpy, bitter and stinky after you've been unwell and had a heavy night on curry + beer
vvaannmmaann said:
Don't waste it.Don't you know there's a credit crunch on?
Rice pudding?
Spunket (I mean Junket)?

We could be on to quite a money spinner here....instead of wasting good socks it could be harvested and collected on a regular basis for manufacturing nourishing puddings..... (made by the WI?) ....who would buy them however?
WI=Wankers Institute (I mean Womens Institute)

was with some amusement that I read your post, as with some similarity I found myself doing the same thing earlier (after picking up some trashy mag from the hoi polloi canteen earlier on) with one or two VERY nice shots of Keeley Hawes in full-on 80's makeup in it.

Was I wrong to undo the rolly hand towel, and wipe my cocksnot on the rolled-up and ready to go clean end, in the full knowledge that a) there was a lot wiped off, b) already-mentioned night on the beer previous, and c) it's right above a radiator set to 42 degrees C?
My fresh emission usually has a warm 'bleachy' smell, reminiscent of swimwear drying on the garden wall at the end of a warm summer day by the pool.
Once in my lustful haste to heighten this olfactory pleasure, I ventured to lick said production from the breasts of the lady to whom I had just delivered my 'killing burst'.
Imagine my surprise when, instead of tasting the equivalent of ripe woodland after summer rain, I was instead assaulted with the memory of boil-in-the-bag rice pudding that had been seasoned with the contents of a Dead Sea beach...

Respect ladies - I couldn't do that as a hobby!

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