Whacking off in a communal room

Now, before I start, this is not a stab at the TA or the RAF out there, simply a recollection of two experiences I have encountered.

Picture the scene: Pre OP Telic 2. Waiting at Brize for the sexy voiced RAF aircrew-woman (PC) to tell us to board in order of rank. It was the advance party and I only knew one other person there, the OC. He knobs off as he's an officer and gets to pick a nice seat either near the emergency exit or as far away from the crapper as possible. Im stood there with my green slime beret on like a fukcing becon. In hindsight I should of taken it off, especially as I was just about to board the plane. I spied a fist* of blokes, all looking at me from the corner of their eyes and pointing at me with their thumbs.

My inner monologue was shouting at me 'Take the beret off! They are going to come and talk to you! Tw@t!'

But no, I left it on. One of the fist comes over and asks 'you going out to Iraq?' 8O

Turns out the fist of 4 were all mobilised TA who were constituting 50% of our Section. Any way, none of them had ever deployed before and were rank ranged from Lance Jack to WO2. They had loads of questions that keep me busy for the whole of the 6 and a half hour flight. Bugger. Even when I pretended to be asleep they'd wake me up.

Once in Iraq and settled down we ended up accomodated in a nice ex servants quarter in the palace (OPSEC - no longer used, handed back to locals). It was 3 to a small room with no aircon. I was sharing with a TA Sgt and a regular Full Screw who came out a few days after me.

Now this room was cramped. Lying on your campcot, if you stretched both arms out a la Christ on the cross, you'd be touching the other blokes head. Nearly, may be a bit bigger. But we were living in each others bags.

One night I was awoken by a shuffling sound. Thinking it was a suicide camel attack or a huge rat in our room, I jumped up to try and find the source of the noise. The shuffling was coming from the Sgts bed. He was stroking one out with pride, no trying to hide it, and he carried on even when I was stood up right by him!

'Fukc this' I thought, went for a slash and a brew to calm my nerves before returning back to bed. Luckily he was asleep. I didnt say anything, thinking it was a one off - sleepwalking stylee tug. It wasn't. It happen on numerous occasions, nothing said.

Me and the other full screw were chewing down chow about a week after the first incident, when the conversation turn to this subject. He'd witnessed it as well but was embarassed to say anything. Enough was enough, so I tackled the issue head on that night. I confronted the communal w@nker and told him to fukcing stop it as the room stank of his BO and that we really did not want to see him tugging one off. I suggested using the turdis (best before 0700hrs or after 2100hrs due to the heat and smell of shi'ite) or on the roof (mentioned in a previous thread in the NAAFI bar - good stress reliever).

He got all embarrased, saying that he thought all regular army blokes did it and he thought we wouldnt mind. 8O . And that it was a regular occurance on annual camp for communal w@nking to take place! 8O 8O .

Im no prude, during basic there was a couple of occasions when one was trown off the wrist, but allways on the sly. I had to ask the Sgt the question that should be on everyones lips: 'what did you do with the monk?'

'I've got a sweat rag down the side that I wipe clean with'

Thats why the room had a certain tang in the air.......

He stopped all activity after that.


I was fortunate enough to move accomodation. I ended up in a bigger room with an all singing, all dancing Aircon unit. I was in a room with 2 terps; one TA the other a regular RAF. Both mine and the TA blokes bed were under the aircon and the RAFs bed at the otherside of the room, about 6 foot away. The aircon should only really be used if you are in the room so as not to knacker it out, and then only used when absolutely necessary.

D!ckhead RAF guy must be a sociapath - he'd come in at night and turn the aircon down so the room was an icecube, then bugger off to have a shower. Come back, get changed and disappear for ages, most of the time leaving me and the other guy gibbering.

I tackled the RAF tw@t head on one day, saying he was deliberatley trying to fukc me off. He tried to calm me down saying that he hadnt noticed how cold it was or that he was knacking the system.

This is the cruntcher - he'd go to bed in his gonk bag, with his desert softie jacket and a beany hat on! Apparently, he likes to get in to a cold bed!

I swear to God, I came in to the room during the day on numerous occasions with no one else in there, with icicles formed on the aircon unit. After I threatened to rip the thing off the wall and shove it up his arrse, he stopped using it at all. A week later, sure enough, it broke down, and he blamed me for sabotaging it. A quick poke to his cheast and me telling him to fukc off through my gritted teeth shut him up. He moved rooms shortly after.

If you're reading this and you know who you are, hang your head in shame.

Anyone else any amusing tour stories they want to get off their chest?

*fist is the name for a collection of Int Corps soldiers. Similar to a shoal of fish, with less brains! :lol:
So Regular Army guys do mind blatant w@nking?

Whoops. At least I'll know for the future... :D
Bloody hell FNB,

You were slow off the starting block there mate. If you had been slightly more tactfull with the midnight stroker just think of the opportunities that could have arisen.....ooh err.

Operational humping is hard to come by at the best of times, you scuppered your chances of a nightly man fest. Range glue in a sweat rag? No, no, no! Range glue splashed all over your grid like a wild Thai bukkake party. :D
dont know about blatant wanking but being woken up to see if you have any porn someone could borrow is annoying . :lol:
Communial wankings alright, its the jumping out of your cot at the vingear stroke for a quick swordfight with your neighbour that normaly disturbs the more fragile of soul
Maybe I should have offered to bring him off in the mouth - seeing as I have suger-puff teeth, that may have put him off?

I left it for a while because I thought he might be missing his missus or something along those lines. Plus, we've all been caught cracking one off so I thought i'd let it slide. The fact that he was using a sweat rag that he kept down the side of the bed gripped my shi'ite. Im not joking, the room stank like a salty sauna. At the end of the day there were other options. I personnaly like a bit of asphixiation (if thats how you spell it). I'd take a deep breathe, jump in a shi'itehouse trap in the baking sun and try and thrash one out before passing out.

Geordie_Blerk - the Bukkake special could have been an option - I ran out of sun cream, does anyone know if man fat has any UV blocking properties?
I jetted off into the sand on a berm in Telic 1 and came back 10 mins later to find a scorpion feeding on it :l

I'm with you mate, furtive cracking one off in a communal room is fooking annoying and his excuse about thinking all Regular army did it and that their poxy 2 week camp is one big biscuit game just reflects how much like a posh public school the TA is.

As for the RAF Tw#t it reminds me of my best mate who's a 21 stone Guiness drinker. If we go away somewhere hot he likes the aircon feckin,like it cool or off as the cheap motel room aircon units are bleeding noisy. Each evening is spent getting sleep in hour long blocks as we each wait till the other dozes off and then turn it on/off and gets our head down. An hour later the noise or the cold wakes the other up and he chanes the setting. Thinking about it maybe we should just have an arrangement and get a solid 5 hours each, heyho.
VirtualSoapBox said:

Thinking about it maybe we should just have an arrangement and get a solid 5 hours each, heyho.
You all should of ganged together and threatened to shove the aircon unit up his arrse. It would of gone one of two ways:

1. He'd shut up and leave the aircon alone.
2. More probable, he'd lamp all of you. Everyones a winner as you'd be Unconscious whatever the room temperature!
Maybe he should have done what a guy at my school used to do (long, long ago). In a dorm of 8 blokes, this guy (his name was Fart Smith, incidentally) would wait until a couple of hours after 'lights out' and ask the room at large: "anyone got the time?". No answer, so the shuffle would start, intensify and conclude with due satisfaction. He was rumbled, however, and one night: "Anyone know the time?"..................shuffle, shuffle, shuffle..."It's half past twelve, Fart." Squeaks and silence, and he didn't look anyone in the eye until he came up with a better idea (never found out what it was, but he was a dirty sod). Got lots of gold rings in the Navy, I think.
Those careless enough to get caught whilst engaging in hand to gland combat in a communal room should be bungied to the bed up ended and then skiffed by the other members who've had their sleep disturbed particularly those known to suffer from painful chugnuts and/or poor hygiene. He'll be able to smell the cocoa sombrero for days :wink:
My communal tugging days are long over..... sadly.

There was an art form in cuffing a sly one undetected... the hard thing was catching it and disgarding of the wipey up cloth. If you didn't wipe up properly, when you woke up in the morning you had like a danduffy type scab appear in your pubic area and round your belly where your love custard landed.

On my first evenign at JLR a lad in the bed space two up from me was laying there in what he thought was silence..... four or five minutes later there was a barely audible 'Oh shit' as he reached the vinegar, dived out of his scratcher making for the door to the ablutions. As he passed the end of my bed space a couple of bedside lights had lit up the room and seven brand new recruits and strangers watched him let fly a jet of c0ck snot.... What a way to break the ice..... we continued to watch him clean it up in a stunned silence, wondering what the fcuk we had let ourselves in for
I was in a corrimec shiit house in Bosnia doing the normal splash down and getting off on the stench of my own fecal matter. Anyway I digress..

I heard the main door open and someone go into the trap next to mine, a thoroughly normal experience so far. After a couple of rustling noises ( kecks round ankles etc ), the guy next door sat down and proceeded to do nothing, no splashing or farting. Strange I thought but I was just about done. I looked to the right to locate the bog roll and saw a sight that haunts me to this day.

The bog roll holder was chrome and shiny and thus reflected images. Only this time it reflected the image from under the wall of the adjacent trap. The sight was seared onto my eyeballs for a millisecond or could have been 6mins 29 secs.

The horror of watching another man turning his erect tool into a pistol grip cannot be described in words! In my minds eye, I could see me being ousted from the unit as a closet homo, peeping tom with a masterbation fetish. Fukcing hells bells, for the life of me I couldn't look away!! It was like watching a parachuting accident, horribly sickening but a ghoulish spectator sport non the less.

I gave him a mental high five for sheer balls and a 5 out of ten for technique ( thumb over the helmet is beginners mistake). I didn't stay for the finale so I'm not " the only gay in the village".

Wnaking is not a spectator sport unless there is heavy drinking involved and it's ABF weekend.
This lad tells me this story from when he was in the first gulf war. He's part of an RCT squadron re-supplying tanks and such likes and the vehicles are double manned. If you've ever spent more than a couple of days in one then you will know that trying to get a good your head down is basically impossible. So what would happen is you would grab your doss bag, climb out onto the flat-bed back of the vehicle, jam yourself under a ratchet strap and get your head down.
This lad decides he's going to tug one off whislt in this strapped down position and because they are in convoy he decides that, seeing as the vehicle is stopped, now is a good time. So he performs the dastardly deed, cleans up his mess and sits up to toss the cheesy bog-roll over-board...... a massive round of cheers and applause is suddenly heard and he looks round to find himself sat bang in the middle of a huge re-sup park with about 100 squaddies all around him laughing their fcukin' heads off! Quality, pure quality.
"And that it was a regular occurance on annual camp for communal w@nking to take place!"

OC 3 MI reading this ? Now you know why so many try and avoid Bn camp.

EDIT - whoops, I mean CO. That's me busted if you ever ID me.
Instead of being such a prude you should have joined in up the stakes as it were. He whacks of at night then you do it during the day he uses a sweat rag as a wa*k sock then you shoot into a pint glass by your bed wait till it half full then empty it then snigger when ever he has a brew.
Fecks sake, I thought having a tug in the company of your oppos was sign of acceptance.

I recall one occasion when I was having a lazy choke while a room mate was busy pumping iron in the opposite corner.........just as I shoot my bolt the Plt Sgt pops he head round the door.. 8O

He, looks at me with a pool of jizz spread over my guts

Then at the lad on the weights

Then back at me........ 8O

.........he then wipes my spunk up with his hand and says "crack on lads, good skills"

So whats the bid deal... :D its a mans army FFS
Mate of mine, matelot, hot-bunking in a submarine, sharing with a lad who liked a Jodrell before a tactical kip and another on coming to afterwards. Fed up with getting in to either crispy or soggy sheets, he got himself a syringe from the MO. Shot his baby gravy into the syringe, then squirted it into his oppo's toothpaste tube. Didn't stop the w@nking, but made him feel better whenever he saw his mate clean his teeth!
Once shared a billet with five Royal Marine Reserve JNCOs.


(I'm still "seeing someone" about the experience. The Horror! The Horror!)


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