I have nothing to rival some of the others on here, but I did once wake up in an unfamiliar bed, girl I vaguely remembered from a very messy evening the night before next to me - naked apart from a veil sticking halfway out of her hair. For about 5 minutes I lay there bricking it that we'd somehow got drunk and got married.
Then she woke up, and reminded me she'd been part of a group in the pub doing London Underground fancy dress and she had gone as 'Maida Vale'.
The feeling of relief was amazing.
If I'd have thought about it I'd have realised we were in London not Vegas and it wasn't really possible, but I was feeling way too rough to think straight.
I'm literally howling with tears in my eyes at some of these and I'm only on Page 2. Back later, off to read more... some of the stories and some of the follow up lines.
Weird start to a date. I was working in my office accompanied by a area manager when a row started outside with a cashier. Sent out to deal with it, I found one of the girls in tears being comforted by her colleague while a guy ranted and raved from the other side of the jump. Asking the two girls to go into my office I tried to pacify this guy who just kept repeating "it was none of my business" the long and short of that was, he got dumped on his arse and then left of his own accord. Asking the two girls what had gone on, I was told he had demanded money but not in the robbery sense. He was her boyfriend and every payday took her wages from her and gave her back some pocket money and as she'd worked late he'd come looking. I was due to leave soon and offered her a lift home when she'd calmed down, this was excepted but she told me had no money as she'd already handed over her wages. My offer of a Chinese meal in the Blue Heaven, welling (Pizza Hut ffs) @DaveMehmet (no class ) as was accepted as was my bed for the night. While I kipped on the sofa, like a gentleman. She still to this day hasn't gone home, still happily married 37 years later. That CL is how I met my wife.
Weird start to a date. I was working in my office accompanied by a area manager when a row started outside with a cashier. Sent out to deal with it, I found one of the girls in tears being comforted by her colleague while a guy ranted and raved from the other side of the jump. Asking the two girls to go into my office I tried to pacify this guy who just kept repeating "it was none of my business" the long and short of that was, he got dumped on his arse and then left of his own accord. Asking the two girls what had gone on, I was told he had demanded money but not in the robbery sense. He was her boyfriend and every payday took her wages from her and gave her back some pocket money and as she'd worked late he'd come looking. I was due to leave soon and offered her a lift home when she'd calmed down, this was excepted but she told me had no money as she'd already handed over her wages. My offer of a Chinese meal in the Blue Heaven, welling (Pizza Hut ffs) @DaveMehmet (no class ) as was accepted as was my bed for the night. While I kipped on the sofa, like a gentleman. She still to this day hasn't gone home, still happily married 37 years later. That CL is how I met my wife.
FFS Edited. She's just told me it was 38 years ago, we've been married 37 years.
I don't know how you view your only offspring, but if there's still some perception of my innocence, then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER as it's about to be shattered.
You have been warned.
---------------------------------------
First and only date with a Welsh girl on Tinder from when I was in my final year of uni. She'd come down from Cardiff to Bristol especially - ergo, she was *definitely* keen. We went for a light lunch, split some wine, and by student standards were living it up.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon we decided it to be a good idea to go back to mine, at around 3pm, when I knew full well all of my flatmates were home. Oh well - the walls are thin, and we'd all heard it before.
Little was I to know quite how filthy she was. I mean, in the spirit of attempting to ensure fun sexy times were had by all, I was all about communication, and her "well, I'm not *totally* vanilla... [shy giggle]" seemed fair enough - maybe she liked some hair pulling, mild masochistic stuff, I dunno.
How wrong I was.
That sort of stuff would have been great - but instead, while on top she decided to relax. A bit too much. At first I just thought she was very wet...
Then, at the end, she insisted on finishing me off with a bit of hand relief - fine. I was probably still a bit dazed from earlier, but anything to finish the job. So she decides to move El General around like that bloke from Fast and Furious changing gear, the end result being a huge deposit of fluid right on the face.
Not hers. Mine.
---------------------------------------
Also, Seth, if you have decided to read this, then now is as good a time as ever to explain why my bed has that weird tilt/is broken -
I banged someone in it a couple of months ago. I'm not even sorry.
I don't know how you view your only offspring, but if there's still some perception of my innocence, then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER as it's about to be shattered.
You have been warned.
---------------------------------------
First and only date with a Welsh girl on Tinder from when I was in my final year of uni. She'd come down from Cardiff to Bristol especially - ergo, she was *definitely* keen. We went for a light lunch, split some wine, and by student standards were living it up.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon we decided it to be a good idea to go back to mine, at around 3pm, when I knew full well all of my flatmates were home. Oh well - the walls are thin, and we'd all heard it before.
Little was I to know quite how filthy she was. I mean, in the spirit of attempting to ensure fun sexy times were had by all, I was all about communication, and her "well, I'm not *totally* vanilla... [shy giggle]" seemed fair enough - maybe she liked some hair pulling, mild masochistic stuff, I dunno.
How wrong I was.
That sort of stuff would have been great - but instead, while on top she decided to relax. A bit too much. At first I just thought she was very wet...
Then, at the end, she insisted on finishing me off with a bit of hand relief - fine. I was probably still a bit dazed from earlier, but anything to finish the job. So she decides to move El General around like that bloke from Fast and Furious changing gear, the end result being a huge deposit of fluid right on the face.
Not hers. Mine.
---------------------------------------
Also, Seth, if you have decided to read this, then now is as good a time as ever to explain why my bed has that weird tilt/is broken -
I banged someone in it a couple of months ago. I'm not even sorry.
He'll only be pissed off if he finds out you ate meat when you took her for lunch (and maybe a little bit about the broken bed)
I don't know how you view your only offspring, but if there's still some perception of my innocence, then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER as it's about to be shattered.
You have been warned.
---------------------------------------
First and only date with a Welsh girl on Tinder from when I was in my final year of uni. She'd come down from Cardiff to Bristol especially - ergo, she was *definitely* keen. We went for a light lunch, split some wine, and by student standards were living it up.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon we decided it to be a good idea to go back to mine, at around 3pm, when I knew full well all of my flatmates were home. Oh well - the walls are thin, and we'd all heard it before.
Little was I to know quite how filthy she was. I mean, in the spirit of attempting to ensure fun sexy times were had by all, I was all about communication, and her "well, I'm not *totally* vanilla... [shy giggle]" seemed fair enough - maybe she liked some hair pulling, mild masochistic stuff, I dunno.
How wrong I was.
That sort of stuff would have been great - but instead, while on top she decided to relax. A bit too much. At first I just thought she was very wet...
Then, at the end, she insisted on finishing me off with a bit of hand relief - fine. I was probably still a bit dazed from earlier, but anything to finish the job. So she decides to move El General around like that bloke from Fast and Furious changing gear, the end result being a huge deposit of fluid right on the face.
Not hers. Mine.
---------------------------------------
Also, Seth, if you have decided to read this, then now is as good a time as ever to explain why my bed has that weird tilt/is broken -
I banged someone in it a couple of months ago. I'm not even sorry.
Weird start to a date. I was working in my office accompanied by a area manager when a row started outside with a cashier. Sent out to deal with it, I found one of the girls in tears being comforted by her colleague while a guy ranted and raved from the other side of the jump. Asking the two girls to go into my office I tried to pacify this guy who just kept repeating "it was none of my business" the long and short of that was, he got dumped on his arse and then left of his own accord. Asking the two girls what had gone on, I was told he had demanded money but not in the robbery sense. He was her boyfriend and every payday took her wages from her and gave her back some pocket money and as she'd worked late he'd come looking. I was due to leave soon and offered her a lift home when she'd calmed down, this was excepted but she told me had no money as she'd already handed over her wages. My offer of a Chinese meal in the Blue Heaven, welling (Pizza Hut ffs) @DaveMehmet (no class ) as was accepted as was my bed for the night. While I kipped on the sofa, like a gentleman. She still to this day hasn't gone home, still happily married 37 years later. That CL is how I met my wife.
I don't know how you view your only offspring, but if there's still some perception of my innocence, then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER as it's about to be shattered.
You have been warned.
---------------------------------------
First and only date with a Welsh girl on Tinder from when I was in my final year of uni. She'd come down from Cardiff to Bristol especially - ergo, she was *definitely* keen. We went for a light lunch, split some wine, and by student standards were living it up.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon we decided it to be a good idea to go back to mine, at around 3pm, when I knew full well all of my flatmates were home. Oh well - the walls are thin, and we'd all heard it before.
Little was I to know quite how filthy she was. I mean, in the spirit of attempting to ensure fun sexy times were had by all, I was all about communication, and her "well, I'm not *totally* vanilla... [shy giggle]" seemed fair enough - maybe she liked some hair pulling, mild masochistic stuff, I dunno.
How wrong I was.
That sort of stuff would have been great - but instead, while on top she decided to relax. A bit too much. At first I just thought she was very wet...
Then, at the end, she insisted on finishing me off with a bit of hand relief - fine. I was probably still a bit dazed from earlier, but anything to finish the job. So she decides to move El General around like that bloke from Fast and Furious changing gear, the end result being a huge deposit of fluid right on the face.
Not hers. Mine.
---------------------------------------
Also, Seth, if you have decided to read this, then now is as good a time as ever to explain why my bed has that weird tilt/is broken -
I banged someone in it a couple of months ago. I'm not even sorry.
I don't know how you view your only offspring, but if there's still some perception of my innocence, then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER as it's about to be shattered.
You have been warned.
---------------------------------------
First and only date with a Welsh girl on Tinder from when I was in my final year of uni. She'd come down from Cardiff to Bristol especially - ergo, she was *definitely* keen. We went for a light lunch, split some wine, and by student standards were living it up.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon we decided it to be a good idea to go back to mine, at around 3pm, when I knew full well all of my flatmates were home. Oh well - the walls are thin, and we'd all heard it before.
Little was I to know quite how filthy she was. I mean, in the spirit of attempting to ensure fun sexy times were had by all, I was all about communication, and her "well, I'm not *totally* vanilla... [shy giggle]" seemed fair enough - maybe she liked some hair pulling, mild masochistic stuff, I dunno.
How wrong I was.
That sort of stuff would have been great - but instead, while on top she decided to relax. A bit too much. At first I just thought she was very wet...
Then, at the end, she insisted on finishing me off with a bit of hand relief - fine. I was probably still a bit dazed from earlier, but anything to finish the job. So she decides to move El General around like that bloke from Fast and Furious changing gear, the end result being a huge deposit of fluid right on the face.
Not hers. Mine.
---------------------------------------
Also, Seth, if you have decided to read this, then now is as good a time as ever to explain why my bed has that weird tilt/is broken -
I banged someone in it a couple of months ago. I'm not even sorry.
I don't know how you view your only offspring, but if there's still some perception of my innocence, then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER as it's about to be shattered.
You have been warned.
---------------------------------------
First and only date with a Welsh girl on Tinder from when I was in my final year of uni. She'd come down from Cardiff to Bristol especially - ergo, she was *definitely* keen. We went for a light lunch, split some wine, and by student standards were living it up.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon we decided it to be a good idea to go back to mine, at around 3pm, when I knew full well all of my flatmates were home. Oh well - the walls are thin, and we'd all heard it before.
Little was I to know quite how filthy she was. I mean, in the spirit of attempting to ensure fun sexy times were had by all, I was all about communication, and her "well, I'm not *totally* vanilla... [shy giggle]" seemed fair enough - maybe she liked some hair pulling, mild masochistic stuff, I dunno.
How wrong I was.
That sort of stuff would have been great - but instead, while on top she decided to relax. A bit too much. At first I just thought she was very wet...
Then, at the end, she insisted on finishing me off with a bit of hand relief - fine. I was probably still a bit dazed from earlier, but anything to finish the job. So she decides to move El General around like that bloke from Fast and Furious changing gear, the end result being a huge deposit of fluid right on the face.
Not hers. Mine.
---------------------------------------
Also, Seth, if you have decided to read this, then now is as good a time as ever to explain why my bed has that weird tilt/is broken -
I banged someone in it a couple of months ago. I'm not even sorry.
Well fuckin played Paddy, well played! Seth, you have done well.
I don't know how you view your only offspring, but if there's still some perception of my innocence, then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER as it's about to be shattered.
You have been warned.
---------------------------------------
First and only date with a Welsh girl on Tinder from when I was in my final year of uni. She'd come down from Cardiff to Bristol especially - ergo, she was *definitely* keen. We went for a light lunch, split some wine, and by student standards were living it up.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon we decided it to be a good idea to go back to mine, at around 3pm, when I knew full well all of my flatmates were home. Oh well - the walls are thin, and we'd all heard it before.
Little was I to know quite how filthy she was. I mean, in the spirit of attempting to ensure fun sexy times were had by all, I was all about communication, and her "well, I'm not *totally* vanilla... [shy giggle]" seemed fair enough - maybe she liked some hair pulling, mild masochistic stuff, I dunno.
How wrong I was.
That sort of stuff would have been great - but instead, while on top she decided to relax. A bit too much. At first I just thought she was very wet...
Then, at the end, she insisted on finishing me off with a bit of hand relief - fine. I was probably still a bit dazed from earlier, but anything to finish the job. So she decides to move El General around like that bloke from Fast and Furious changing gear, the end result being a huge deposit of fluid right on the face.
Not hers. Mine.
---------------------------------------
Also, Seth, if you have decided to read this, then now is as good a time as ever to explain why my bed has that weird tilt/is broken -
I banged someone in it a couple of months ago. I'm not even sorry.
Well fuckin played Paddy, well played! Seth, you have done well.
You do know that now you have said that, @Greenie Junior will try to outdo it?
Bloody hell, I was crying on page 2 at the thought of @McBobbin limping home in vom soaked pants and shoes but things have taken a right old turn.
When I next see Carter wandering up to the bar I will always picture the end of two teaspoons ... honest to god and now young innocent Paddy!! Good grief!
Honestly, this did not happen to me, but I heard this story from two sources independently back in the eighties, so it sounds as if it really did happen. A guy gets chatting to a girl in a pub that he hadn’t been to before, and after a skinful, they get a cab back to her one-bedroomed flat, he doesn’t know where, pretty pissed up. Soon the clothes were off, and they make mad passionate love on the bed; as he’s lying there having a post-coital fag, she asks if he’s up for some more fun. Why not, he says drunkenly? She asks if she can tie him up? Sure, in for a penny, in for a pound he thinks. He’s not done that before but is game for anything it seems. She gets the ropes from a drawer and tightly ties his hands to the headboard and ankles to the bottom of the bed, but, to his surprise, with him face down. With his head to the side, she sits beside him and strokes his naked back and asks him if he is tied good and tight, to which he checks (with a firm tug on his wrists restraints and a slight pull on the ankle ropes) and says “yes, he’s well and truly tied up”. At that point the wardrobe bursts open, and much to this guy’s surprise, Batman (or someone wearing a Batman outfit) jumps out. Batman proceeds to arse-rape the still fairly drunken guy, who soon passed out with the pain. The next thing he can remember is arriving at A&E to get 6 stitches in his arse. He was too embarrassed to go to the police about it, and never went back to that pub again…
Honestly, this did not happen to me, but I heard this story from two sources independently back in the eighties, so it sounds as if it really did happen. A guy gets chatting to a girl in a pub that he hadn’t been to before, and after a skinful, they get a cab back to her one-bedroomed flat, he doesn’t know where, pretty pissed up. Soon the clothes were off, and they make mad passionate love on the bed; as he’s lying there having a post-coital fag, she asks if he’s up for some more fun. Why not, he says drunkenly? She asks if she can tie him up? Sure, in for a penny, in for a pound he thinks. He’s not done that before but is game for anything it seems. She gets the ropes from a drawer and tightly ties his hands to the headboard and ankles to the bottom of the bed, but, to his surprise, with him face down. With his head to the side, she sits beside him and strokes his naked back and asks him if he is tied good and tight, to which he checks (with a firm tug on his wrists restraints and a slight pull on the ankle ropes) and says “yes, he’s well and truly tied up”. At that point the wardrobe bursts open, and much to this guy’s surprise, Batman (or someone wearing a Batman outfit) jumps out. Batman proceeds to arse-rape the still fairly drunken guy, who soon passed out with the pain. The next thing he can remember is arriving at A&E to get 6 stitches in his arse. He was too embarrassed to go to the police about it, and never went back to that pub again…
Holy fucking shit even if we discount A MAN BEING RAPED in this tale, there is so fucking much wrong with this in terms of BDSM and how you're meant to carry that out. Words fail me.
Honestly, this did not happen to me, but I heard this story from two sources independently back in the eighties, so it sounds as if it really did happen. A guy gets chatting to a girl in a pub that he hadn’t been to before, and after a skinful, they get a cab back to her one-bedroomed flat, he doesn’t know where, pretty pissed up. Soon the clothes were off, and they make mad passionate love on the bed; as he’s lying there having a post-coital fag, she asks if he’s up for some more fun. Why not, he says drunkenly? She asks if she can tie him up? Sure, in for a penny, in for a pound he thinks. He’s not done that before but is game for anything it seems. She gets the ropes from a drawer and tightly ties his hands to the headboard and ankles to the bottom of the bed, but, to his surprise, with him face down. With his head to the side, she sits beside him and strokes his naked back and asks him if he is tied good and tight, to which he checks (with a firm tug on his wrists restraints and a slight pull on the ankle ropes) and says “yes, he’s well and truly tied up”. At that point the wardrobe bursts open, and much to this guy’s surprise, Batman (or someone wearing a Batman outfit) jumps out. Batman proceeds to arse-rape the still fairly drunken guy, who soon passed out with the pain. The next thing he can remember is arriving at A&E to get 6 stitches in his arse. He was too embarrassed to go to the police about it, and never went back to that pub again…
I knew a fireman who was called out to an emergency call. Cries of help were heard from this flat but the door was locked and they were asked to help opening it. When they got into the room with a policeman and a paramedic, they found a naked woman tied to the bed and a man in a spiderman outfit lying on the floor. It would appear that in the excitement of the occasion, the man had a cardiac arrest and died, leaving her tied to the bed.
Honestly, this did not happen to me, but I heard this story from two sources independently back in the eighties, so it sounds as if it really did happen. A guy gets chatting to a girl in a pub that he hadn’t been to before, and after a skinful, they get a cab back to her one-bedroomed flat, he doesn’t know where, pretty pissed up. Soon the clothes were off, and they make mad passionate love on the bed; as he’s lying there having a post-coital fag, she asks if he’s up for some more fun. Why not, he says drunkenly? She asks if she can tie him up? Sure, in for a penny, in for a pound he thinks. He’s not done that before but is game for anything it seems. She gets the ropes from a drawer and tightly ties his hands to the headboard and ankles to the bottom of the bed, but, to his surprise, with him face down. With his head to the side, she sits beside him and strokes his naked back and asks him if he is tied good and tight, to which he checks (with a firm tug on his wrists restraints and a slight pull on the ankle ropes) and says “yes, he’s well and truly tied up”. At that point the wardrobe bursts open, and much to this guy’s surprise, Batman (or someone wearing a Batman outfit) jumps out. Batman proceeds to arse-rape the still fairly drunken guy, who soon passed out with the pain. The next thing he can remember is arriving at A&E to get 6 stitches in his arse. He was too embarrassed to go to the police about it, and never went back to that pub again…
You should always have a safe word or phrase. It's a pity that his was "Bam! Sock! Pow!"
Honestly, this did not happen to me, but I heard this story from two sources independently back in the eighties, so it sounds as if it really did happen. A guy gets chatting to a girl in a pub that he hadn’t been to before, and after a skinful, they get a cab back to her one-bedroomed flat, he doesn’t know where, pretty pissed up. Soon the clothes were off, and they make mad passionate love on the bed; as he’s lying there having a post-coital fag, she asks if he’s up for some more fun. Why not, he says drunkenly? She asks if she can tie him up? Sure, in for a penny, in for a pound he thinks. He’s not done that before but is game for anything it seems. She gets the ropes from a drawer and tightly ties his hands to the headboard and ankles to the bottom of the bed, but, to his surprise, with him face down. With his head to the side, she sits beside him and strokes his naked back and asks him if he is tied good and tight, to which he checks (with a firm tug on his wrists restraints and a slight pull on the ankle ropes) and says “yes, he’s well and truly tied up”. At that point the wardrobe bursts open, and much to this guy’s surprise, Batman (or someone wearing a Batman outfit) jumps out. Batman proceeds to arse-rape the still fairly drunken guy, who soon passed out with the pain. The next thing he can remember is arriving at A&E to get 6 stitches in his arse. He was too embarrassed to go to the police about it, and never went back to that pub again…
I don't know how you view your only offspring, but if there's still some perception of my innocence, then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER as it's about to be shattered.
You have been warned.
---------------------------------------
First and only date with a Welsh girl on Tinder from when I was in my final year of uni. She'd come down from Cardiff to Bristol especially - ergo, she was *definitely* keen. We went for a light lunch, split some wine, and by student standards were living it up.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon we decided it to be a good idea to go back to mine, at around 3pm, when I knew full well all of my flatmates were home. Oh well - the walls are thin, and we'd all heard it before.
Little was I to know quite how filthy she was. I mean, in the spirit of attempting to ensure fun sexy times were had by all, I was all about communication, and her "well, I'm not *totally* vanilla... [shy giggle]" seemed fair enough - maybe she liked some hair pulling, mild masochistic stuff, I dunno.
How wrong I was.
That sort of stuff would have been great - but instead, while on top she decided to relax. A bit too much. At first I just thought she was very wet...
Then, at the end, she insisted on finishing me off with a bit of hand relief - fine. I was probably still a bit dazed from earlier, but anything to finish the job. So she decides to move El General around like that bloke from Fast and Furious changing gear, the end result being a huge deposit of fluid right on the face.
Not hers. Mine.
---------------------------------------
Also, Seth, if you have decided to read this, then now is as good a time as ever to explain why my bed has that weird tilt/is broken -
I banged someone in it a couple of months ago. I'm not even sorry.
that's a relief, he thought he did it when shagging your mum on it the other day...
I don't know how you view your only offspring, but if there's still some perception of my innocence, then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER as it's about to be shattered.
You have been warned.
---------------------------------------
First and only date with a Welsh girl on Tinder from when I was in my final year of uni. She'd come down from Cardiff to Bristol especially - ergo, she was *definitely* keen. We went for a light lunch, split some wine, and by student standards were living it up.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon we decided it to be a good idea to go back to mine, at around 3pm, when I knew full well all of my flatmates were home. Oh well - the walls are thin, and we'd all heard it before.
Little was I to know quite how filthy she was. I mean, in the spirit of attempting to ensure fun sexy times were had by all, I was all about communication, and her "well, I'm not *totally* vanilla... [shy giggle]" seemed fair enough - maybe she liked some hair pulling, mild masochistic stuff, I dunno.
How wrong I was.
That sort of stuff would have been great - but instead, while on top she decided to relax. A bit too much. At first I just thought she was very wet...
Then, at the end, she insisted on finishing me off with a bit of hand relief - fine. I was probably still a bit dazed from earlier, but anything to finish the job. So she decides to move El General around like that bloke from Fast and Furious changing gear, the end result being a huge deposit of fluid right on the face.
Not hers. Mine.
---------------------------------------
Also, Seth, if you have decided to read this, then now is as good a time as ever to explain why my bed has that weird tilt/is broken -
I banged someone in it a couple of months ago. I'm not even sorry.
that's a relief, he thought he did it when shagging your mum on it the other day...
One brilliant story I have heard was from one of my mates who plays for a club cricket side.
Their pitch is apparently really picturesque, top of a hill, there's beautiful poppy fields all around it. One day one of their players was at a club social in the Pavillion and got talking to the barmaid, managed to get her to agree to some romantic al fresco fun over in the poppy fields.
Off they go to the field, but just as they reach a good spot they nearly trip over something - up pops the club captain, red faced and sweaty... followed by the lad's mum.
Several years BPL (before Premier League), I was in my first proper job just turned 19 and frankly still rather unworldly. Colleague Shaun, fellow trainee surveyor, invited a load of people to his poky house near Albany Park to celebrate his 21st, including the staff of the next door dentist we'd got to know up the pub after work on Fridays. Over the previous few Fridays I'd struck up a warm, if chaste, rapport with a 20something shapely brunette dental hygenist and was delighted to learn she'd be coming along to Shaun's party. TBH Helen should've been well out of my league, four or five years older and more than a bit posh - she was from Bromley after all. Not strictly a 'date' I suppose but we were both definitely going to the same party and hope sprung in my youthful naivety! Saturday evening arrives warm and sunny and the party is in full swing, mostly in the garden. The partners' PA at our firm, Pat, was a slim, wealthy, glamorous 55 year old who made no secret of fancying the arse off Shaun and had essentially promised him an unforgettable birthday. More than old enough to be his mum this was alarming to me at the time. More alarming still was Pat's best mate, Jan, she brought with her to the do. Same age, similar dress sense, not in quite such good shape and after our introduction clearly determined that Pat wouldn't be the only cougar getting her claws into some fresh meat that evening. The horny idiot in me was excited of course but the rest of me firmly held a candle for Helen and didn't want Jan messing things up for me tonight of all nights. Plus I'd never live it down at work. I'd had to politely swerve a couple of Jan's 'advances' through the early part of the evening and so far no sign of Helen or the nurses from the dentists. As was so often the case one or two party goers, completely overdid it very quickly and one curvy blonde had been carried comatose up to Shaun's spare room by about 9pm to sleep off her overindulgence. Helen and her colleagues arrived stylishly late and my evening brightened when she came straight over and sat down with me. Tragically tho she'd turned up absolutely full of a stinking cold. Seems I wasn't barking up the wrong tree, she had dragged herself from her bed of pain, dosed herself up, in the hope of us getting to know each other better. Call me selfish... but I didn't fancy snogging someone as germ-laden and sneezy as she then was. We passed a slightly awkward hour or so in polite/snotty conversation before her mates decided the party was a bust and they were off. "Nevermind, see you next Friday after work?" "Yep see you then." Another hour and 3 consiliatory pints later I'm cornered in the unlit sideway by a well refreshed Jan whispering furiously in my ear about how: "that silly drunk girl from earlier is still passed out in the spare room upstairs smelling of puke, means we can't pop in there for some how'syerfather". Amongst nightmare visions of Jan proposing a knee trembler against the wall, I'm beginning to wonder where the cut off point was between getting drunk enough to focus the beer goggles and so drunk I'd fall down on the job. Pat fortunately retrieved her big horny mate and, Jan gone, the rest of my evening passed without further middle-aged sexual harassment. Being responsible young people I was one of a dozen who brought sleeping bags to crash on the floor and avoid the drinking/driving issue. In the quiet grey hours before dawn I needed a piss so hauled myself up out of my bag and headed upstairs to the bathroom. Duly relieved I return down the stairs to see an unmistakably naked female figure making her way unsteadily down ahead of me and turn into the front room where we overnighters were billeted. Spotting a (my) unattended sleeping bag and unaware of me behind her, she gets in and lays down quite content. Trying not to waken too many others I point out to her that "that's my sleeping bag, where were you sleeping before? I think you've made a mistake and by the way do you realise you're starkers?" Her evident intoxication and the whiff of vomit suggests to me that this is the early evening casualty who had unwittingly saved me from Jan's libidinous intent some hours earlier. "Are you Shaun?" she asks "get in, you're lovely, it'll be lovely" I demure and still well sloshed she promptly nods off snoring gently. I left her to it and got a few hours kip in a vacant armchair. The naked wanderer was the last to wake up Sunday morning and understandably puzzled and then alarmed to find herself nude in an unfamiliar sleeping bag. Having had her clothes returned to her from upstairs, she sheepishly gave me back my property, quietly asking whether we'd done anything last night. I assured her of my good character and we never spoke of it again. Best of all: the indiscretions of neither woman nor my unintended small role therein (stop giggling at the back) ever apparently reached the ears of the recovered Helen the following week. H invited me to her own birthday party later the same month and many more dates ensued - safe to say none quite as memorable nor scary as that night at Shaun's.
Several years BPL (before Premier League), I was in my first proper job just turned 19 and frankly still rather unworldly. Colleague Shaun, fellow trainee surveyor, invited a load of people to his poky house near Albany Park to celebrate his 21st, including the staff of the next door dentist we'd got to know up the pub after work on Fridays. Over the previous few Fridays I'd struck up a warm, if chaste, rapport with a 20something shapely brunette dental hygenist and was delighted to learn she'd be coming along to Shaun's party. TBH Helen should've been well out of my league, four or five years older and more than a bit posh - she was from Bromley after all. Not strictly a 'date' I suppose but we were both definitely going to the same party and hope sprung in my youthful naivety! Saturday evening arrives warm and sunny and the party is in full swing, mostly in the garden. The partners' PA at our firm, Pat, was a slim, wealthy, glamorous 55 year old who made no secret of fancying the arse off Shaun and had essentially promised him an unforgettable birthday. More than old enough to be his mum this was alarming to me at the time. More alarming still was Pat's best mate, Jan, she brought with her to the do. Same age, similar dress sense, not in quite such good shape and after our introduction clearly determined that Pat wouldn't be the only cougar getting her claws into some fresh meat that evening. The horny idiot in me was excited of course but the rest of me firmly held a candle for Helen and didn't want Jan messing things up for me tonight of all nights. Plus I'd never live it down at work. I'd had to politely swerve a couple of Jan's 'advances' through the early part of the evening and so far no sign of Helen or the nurses from the dentists. As was so often the case one or two party goers, completely overdid it very quickly and one curvy blonde had been carried comatose up to Shaun's spare room by about 9pm to sleep off her overindulgence. Helen and her colleagues arrived stylishly late and my evening brightened when she came straight over and sat down with me. Tragically tho she'd turned up absolutely full of a stinking cold. Seems I wasn't barking up the wrong tree, she had dragged herself from her bed of pain, dosed herself up, in the hope of us getting to know each other better. Call me selfish... but I didn't fancy snogging someone as germ-laden and sneezy as she then was. We passed a slightly awkward hour or so in polite/snotty conversation before her mates decided the party was a bust and they were off. "Nevermind, see you next Friday after work?" "Yep see you then." Another hour and 3 consiliatory pints later I'm cornered in the unlit sideway by a well refreshed Jan whispering furiously in my ear about how: "that silly drunk girl from earlier is still passed out in the spare room upstairs smelling of puke, means we can't pop in there for some how'syerfather". Amongst nightmare visions of Jan proposing a knee trembler against the wall, I'm beginning to wonder where the cut off point was between getting drunk enough to focus the beer goggles and so drunk I'd fall down on the job. Pat fortunately retrieved her big horny mate and, Jan gone, the rest of my evening passed without further middle-aged sexual harassment. Being responsible young people I was one of a dozen who brought sleeping bags to crash on the floor and avoid the drinking/driving issue. In the quiet grey hours before dawn I needed a piss so hauled myself up out of my bag and headed upstairs to the bathroom. Duly relieved I return down the stairs to see an unmistakably naked female figure making her way unsteadily down ahead of me and turn into the front room where we overnighters were billeted. Spotting a (my) unattended sleeping bag and unaware of me behind her, she gets in and lays down quite content. Trying not to waken too many others I point out to her that "that's my sleeping bag, where were you sleeping before? I think you've made a mistake and by the way do you realise you're starkers?" Her evident intoxication and the whiff of vomit suggests to me that this is the early evening casualty who had unwittingly saved me from Jan's libidinous intent some hours earlier. "Are you Shaun?" she asks "get in, you're lovely, it'll be lovely" I demure and still well sloshed she promptly nods off snoring gently. I left her to it and got a few hours kip in a vacant armchair. The naked wanderer was the last to wake up Sunday morning and understandably puzzled and then alarmed to find herself nude in an unfamiliar sleeping bag. Having had her clothes returned to her from upstairs, she sheepishly gave me back my property, quietly asking whether we'd done anything last night. I assured her of my good character and we never spoke of it again. Best of all: the indiscretions of neither woman nor my unintended small role therein (stop giggling at the back) ever apparently reached the ears of the recovered Helen the following week. H invited me to her own birthday party later the same month and many more dates ensued - safe to say none quite as memorable nor scary as that night at Shaun's.
This is the best "avoid a shag at at all costs" story I've ever read! :-)
Several years BPL (before Premier League), I was in my first proper job just turned 19 and frankly still rather unworldly. Colleague Shaun, fellow trainee surveyor, invited a load of people to his poky house near Albany Park to celebrate his 21st, including the staff of the next door dentist we'd got to know up the pub after work on Fridays. Over the previous few Fridays I'd struck up a warm, if chaste, rapport with a 20something shapely brunette dental hygenist and was delighted to learn she'd be coming along to Shaun's party. TBH Helen should've been well out of my league, four or five years older and more than a bit posh - she was from Bromley after all. Not strictly a 'date' I suppose but we were both definitely going to the same party and hope sprung in my youthful naivety! Saturday evening arrives warm and sunny and the party is in full swing, mostly in the garden. The partners' PA at our firm, Pat, was a slim, wealthy, glamorous 55 year old who made no secret of fancying the arse off Shaun and had essentially promised him an unforgettable birthday. More than old enough to be his mum this was alarming to me at the time. More alarming still was Pat's best mate, Jan, she brought with her to the do. Same age, similar dress sense, not in quite such good shape and after our introduction clearly determined that Pat wouldn't be the only cougar getting her claws into some fresh meat that evening. The horny idiot in me was excited of course but the rest of me firmly held a candle for Helen and didn't want Jan messing things up for me tonight of all nights. Plus I'd never live it down at work. I'd had to politely swerve a couple of Jan's 'advances' through the early part of the evening and so far no sign of Helen or the nurses from the dentists. As was so often the case one or two party goers, completely overdid it very quickly and one curvy blonde had been carried comatose up to Shaun's spare room by about 9pm to sleep off her overindulgence. Helen and her colleagues arrived stylishly late and my evening brightened when she came straight over and sat down with me. Tragically tho she'd turned up absolutely full of a stinking cold. Seems I wasn't barking up the wrong tree, she had dragged herself from her bed of pain, dosed herself up, in the hope of us getting to know each other better. Call me selfish... but I didn't fancy snogging someone as germ-laden and sneezy as she then was. We passed a slightly awkward hour or so in polite/snotty conversation before her mates decided the party was a bust and they were off. "Nevermind, see you next Friday after work?" "Yep see you then." Another hour and 3 consiliatory pints later I'm cornered in the unlit sideway by a well refreshed Jan whispering furiously in my ear about how: "that silly drunk girl from earlier is still passed out in the spare room upstairs smelling of puke, means we can't pop in there for some how'syerfather". Amongst nightmare visions of Jan proposing a knee trembler against the wall, I'm beginning to wonder where the cut off point was between getting drunk enough to focus the beer goggles and so drunk I'd fall down on the job. Pat fortunately retrieved her big horny mate and, Jan gone, the rest of my evening passed without further middle-aged sexual harassment. Being responsible young people I was one of a dozen who brought sleeping bags to crash on the floor and avoid the drinking/driving issue. In the quiet grey hours before dawn I needed a piss so hauled myself up out of my bag and headed upstairs to the bathroom. Duly relieved I return down the stairs to see an unmistakably naked female figure making her way unsteadily down ahead of me and turn into the front room where we overnighters were billeted. Spotting a (my) unattended sleeping bag and unaware of me behind her, she gets in and lays down quite content. Trying not to waken too many others I point out to her that "that's my sleeping bag, where were you sleeping before? I think you've made a mistake and by the way do you realise you're starkers?" Her evident intoxication and the whiff of vomit suggests to me that this is the early evening casualty who had unwittingly saved me from Jan's libidinous intent some hours earlier. "Are you Shaun?" she asks "get in, you're lovely, it'll be lovely" I demure and still well sloshed she promptly nods off snoring gently. I left her to it and got a few hours kip in a vacant armchair. The naked wanderer was the last to wake up Sunday morning and understandably puzzled and then alarmed to find herself nude in an unfamiliar sleeping bag. Having had her clothes returned to her from upstairs, she sheepishly gave me back my property, quietly asking whether we'd done anything last night. I assured her of my good character and we never spoke of it again. Best of all: the indiscretions of neither woman nor my unintended small role therein (stop giggling at the back) ever apparently reached the ears of the recovered Helen the following week. H invited me to her own birthday party later the same month and many more dates ensued - safe to say none quite as memorable nor scary as that night at Shaun's.
Several years BPL (before Premier League), I was in my first proper job just turned 19 and frankly still rather unworldly. Colleague Shaun, fellow trainee surveyor, invited a load of people to his poky house near Albany Park to celebrate his 21st, including the staff of the next door dentist we'd got to know up the pub after work on Fridays. Over the previous few Fridays I'd struck up a warm, if chaste, rapport with a 20something shapely brunette dental hygenist and was delighted to learn she'd be coming along to Shaun's party. TBH Helen should've been well out of my league, four or five years older and more than a bit posh - she was from Bromley after all. Not strictly a 'date' I suppose but we were both definitely going to the same party and hope sprung in my youthful naivety! Saturday evening arrives warm and sunny and the party is in full swing, mostly in the garden. The partners' PA at our firm, Pat, was a slim, wealthy, glamorous 55 year old who made no secret of fancying the arse off Shaun and had essentially promised him an unforgettable birthday. More than old enough to be his mum this was alarming to me at the time. More alarming still was Pat's best mate, Jan, she brought with her to the do. Same age, similar dress sense, not in quite such good shape and after our introduction clearly determined that Pat wouldn't be the only cougar getting her claws into some fresh meat that evening. The horny idiot in me was excited of course but the rest of me firmly held a candle for Helen and didn't want Jan messing things up for me tonight of all nights. Plus I'd never live it down at work. I'd had to politely swerve a couple of Jan's 'advances' through the early part of the evening and so far no sign of Helen or the nurses from the dentists. As was so often the case one or two party goers, completely overdid it very quickly and one curvy blonde had been carried comatose up to Shaun's spare room by about 9pm to sleep off her overindulgence. Helen and her colleagues arrived stylishly late and my evening brightened when she came straight over and sat down with me. Tragically tho she'd turned up absolutely full of a stinking cold. Seems I wasn't barking up the wrong tree, she had dragged herself from her bed of pain, dosed herself up, in the hope of us getting to know each other better. Call me selfish... but I didn't fancy snogging someone as germ-laden and sneezy as she then was. We passed a slightly awkward hour or so in polite/snotty conversation before her mates decided the party was a bust and they were off. "Nevermind, see you next Friday after work?" "Yep see you then." Another hour and 3 consiliatory pints later I'm cornered in the unlit sideway by a well refreshed Jan whispering furiously in my ear about how: "that silly drunk girl from earlier is still passed out in the spare room upstairs smelling of puke, means we can't pop in there for some how'syerfather". Amongst nightmare visions of Jan proposing a knee trembler against the wall, I'm beginning to wonder where the cut off point was between getting drunk enough to focus the beer goggles and so drunk I'd fall down on the job. Pat fortunately retrieved her big horny mate and, Jan gone, the rest of my evening passed without further middle-aged sexual harassment. Being responsible young people I was one of a dozen who brought sleeping bags to crash on the floor and avoid the drinking/driving issue. In the quiet grey hours before dawn I needed a piss so hauled myself up out of my bag and headed upstairs to the bathroom. Duly relieved I return down the stairs to see an unmistakably naked female figure making her way unsteadily down ahead of me and turn into the front room where we overnighters were billeted. Spotting a (my) unattended sleeping bag and unaware of me behind her, she gets in and lays down quite content. Trying not to waken too many others I point out to her that "that's my sleeping bag, where were you sleeping before? I think you've made a mistake and by the way do you realise you're starkers?" Her evident intoxication and the whiff of vomit suggests to me that this is the early evening casualty who had unwittingly saved me from Jan's libidinous intent some hours earlier. "Are you Shaun?" she asks "get in, you're lovely, it'll be lovely" I demure and still well sloshed she promptly nods off snoring gently. I left her to it and got a few hours kip in a vacant armchair. The naked wanderer was the last to wake up Sunday morning and understandably puzzled and then alarmed to find herself nude in an unfamiliar sleeping bag. Having had her clothes returned to her from upstairs, she sheepishly gave me back my property, quietly asking whether we'd done anything last night. I assured her of my good character and we never spoke of it again. Best of all: the indiscretions of neither woman nor my unintended small role therein (stop giggling at the back) ever apparently reached the ears of the recovered Helen the following week. H invited me to her own birthday party later the same month and many more dates ensued - safe to say none quite as memorable nor scary as that night at Shaun's.
Are you gay by chance?
Coming on a bit strong there Elfsborg
Ffs he's had 2 women come on to him in one night, I have not had that success rate in 52 years!
Several years BPL (before Premier League), I was in my first proper job just turned 19 and frankly still rather unworldly. Colleague Shaun, fellow trainee surveyor, invited a load of people to his poky house near Albany Park to celebrate his 21st, including the staff of the next door dentist we'd got to know up the pub after work on Fridays. Over the previous few Fridays I'd struck up a warm, if chaste, rapport with a 20something shapely brunette dental hygenist and was delighted to learn she'd be coming along to Shaun's party. TBH Helen should've been well out of my league, four or five years older and more than a bit posh - she was from Bromley after all. Not strictly a 'date' I suppose but we were both definitely going to the same party and hope sprung in my youthful naivety! Saturday evening arrives warm and sunny and the party is in full swing, mostly in the garden. The partners' PA at our firm, Pat, was a slim, wealthy, glamorous 55 year old who made no secret of fancying the arse off Shaun and had essentially promised him an unforgettable birthday. More than old enough to be his mum this was alarming to me at the time. More alarming still was Pat's best mate, Jan, she brought with her to the do. Same age, similar dress sense, not in quite such good shape and after our introduction clearly determined that Pat wouldn't be the only cougar getting her claws into some fresh meat that evening. The horny idiot in me was excited of course but the rest of me firmly held a candle for Helen and didn't want Jan messing things up for me tonight of all nights. Plus I'd never live it down at work. I'd had to politely swerve a couple of Jan's 'advances' through the early part of the evening and so far no sign of Helen or the nurses from the dentists. As was so often the case one or two party goers, completely overdid it very quickly and one curvy blonde had been carried comatose up to Shaun's spare room by about 9pm to sleep off her overindulgence. Helen and her colleagues arrived stylishly late and my evening brightened when she came straight over and sat down with me. Tragically tho she'd turned up absolutely full of a stinking cold. Seems I wasn't barking up the wrong tree, she had dragged herself from her bed of pain, dosed herself up, in the hope of us getting to know each other better. Call me selfish... but I didn't fancy snogging someone as germ-laden and sneezy as she then was. We passed a slightly awkward hour or so in polite/snotty conversation before her mates decided the party was a bust and they were off. "Nevermind, see you next Friday after work?" "Yep see you then." Another hour and 3 consiliatory pints later I'm cornered in the unlit sideway by a well refreshed Jan whispering furiously in my ear about how: "that silly drunk girl from earlier is still passed out in the spare room upstairs smelling of puke, means we can't pop in there for some how'syerfather". Amongst nightmare visions of Jan proposing a knee trembler against the wall, I'm beginning to wonder where the cut off point was between getting drunk enough to focus the beer goggles and so drunk I'd fall down on the job. Pat fortunately retrieved her big horny mate and, Jan gone, the rest of my evening passed without further middle-aged sexual harassment. Being responsible young people I was one of a dozen who brought sleeping bags to crash on the floor and avoid the drinking/driving issue. In the quiet grey hours before dawn I needed a piss so hauled myself up out of my bag and headed upstairs to the bathroom. Duly relieved I return down the stairs to see an unmistakably naked female figure making her way unsteadily down ahead of me and turn into the front room where we overnighters were billeted. Spotting a (my) unattended sleeping bag and unaware of me behind her, she gets in and lays down quite content. Trying not to waken too many others I point out to her that "that's my sleeping bag, where were you sleeping before? I think you've made a mistake and by the way do you realise you're starkers?" Her evident intoxication and the whiff of vomit suggests to me that this is the early evening casualty who had unwittingly saved me from Jan's libidinous intent some hours earlier. "Are you Shaun?" she asks "get in, you're lovely, it'll be lovely" I demure and still well sloshed she promptly nods off snoring gently. I left her to it and got a few hours kip in a vacant armchair. The naked wanderer was the last to wake up Sunday morning and understandably puzzled and then alarmed to find herself nude in an unfamiliar sleeping bag. Having had her clothes returned to her from upstairs, she sheepishly gave me back my property, quietly asking whether we'd done anything last night. I assured her of my good character and we never spoke of it again. Best of all: the indiscretions of neither woman nor my unintended small role therein (stop giggling at the back) ever apparently reached the ears of the recovered Helen the following week. H invited me to her own birthday party later the same month and many more dates ensued - safe to say none quite as memorable nor scary as that night at Shaun's.
Comments
Then she woke up, and reminded me she'd been part of a group in the pub doing London Underground fancy dress and she had gone as 'Maida Vale'.
The feeling of relief was amazing.
If I'd have thought about it I'd have realised we were in London not Vegas and it wasn't really possible, but I was feeling way too rough to think straight.
I was working in my office accompanied by a area manager when a row started outside with a cashier. Sent out to deal with it, I found one of the girls in tears being comforted by her colleague while a guy ranted and raved from the other side of the jump. Asking the two girls to go into my office I tried to pacify this guy who just kept repeating "it was none of my business" the long and short of that was, he got dumped on his arse and then left of his own accord. Asking the two girls what had gone on, I was told he had demanded money but not in the robbery sense. He was her boyfriend and every payday took her wages from her and gave her back some pocket money and as she'd worked late he'd come looking. I was due to leave soon and offered her a lift home when she'd calmed down, this was excepted but she told me had no money as she'd already handed over her wages. My offer of a Chinese meal in the Blue Heaven, welling (Pizza Hut ffs) @DaveMehmet (no class
Edited. She's just told me it was 38 years ago, we've been married 37 years.
I don't know how you view your only offspring, but if there's still some perception of my innocence, then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER as it's about to be shattered.
You have been warned.
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First and only date with a Welsh girl on Tinder from when I was in my final year of uni. She'd come down from Cardiff to Bristol especially - ergo, she was *definitely* keen. We went for a light lunch, split some wine, and by student standards were living it up.
So on this particular Wednesday afternoon we decided it to be a good idea to go back to mine, at around 3pm, when I knew full well all of my flatmates were home. Oh well - the walls are thin, and we'd all heard it before.
Little was I to know quite how filthy she was. I mean, in the spirit of attempting to ensure fun sexy times were had by all, I was all about communication, and her "well, I'm not *totally* vanilla... [shy giggle]" seemed fair enough - maybe she liked some hair pulling, mild masochistic stuff, I dunno.
How wrong I was.
That sort of stuff would have been great - but instead, while on top she decided to relax. A bit too much. At first I just thought she was very wet...
Then, at the end, she insisted on finishing me off with a bit of hand relief - fine. I was probably still a bit dazed from earlier, but anything to finish the job. So she decides to move El General around like that bloke from Fast and Furious changing gear, the end result being a huge deposit of fluid right on the face.
Not hers. Mine.
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Also, Seth, if you have decided to read this, then now is as good a time as ever to explain why my bed has that weird tilt/is broken -
I banged someone in it a couple of months ago. I'm not even sorry.
Can we definitely, definitely not do this please
Just thought the post was worth a promote!
Seth, you have done well.
When I next see Carter wandering up to the bar I will always picture the end of two teaspoons ... honest to god and now young innocent Paddy!! Good grief!
A guy gets chatting to a girl in a pub that he hadn’t been to before, and after a skinful, they get a cab back to her one-bedroomed flat, he doesn’t know where, pretty pissed up.
Soon the clothes were off, and they make mad passionate love on the bed; as he’s lying there having a post-coital fag, she asks if he’s up for some more fun. Why not, he says drunkenly?
She asks if she can tie him up? Sure, in for a penny, in for a pound he thinks. He’s not done that before but is game for anything it seems. She gets the ropes from a drawer and tightly ties his hands to the headboard and ankles to the bottom of the bed, but, to his surprise, with him face down.
With his head to the side, she sits beside him and strokes his naked back and asks him if he is tied good and tight, to which he checks (with a firm tug on his wrists restraints and a slight pull on the ankle ropes) and says “yes, he’s well and truly tied up”.
At that point the wardrobe bursts open, and much to this guy’s surprise, Batman (or someone wearing a Batman outfit) jumps out.
Batman proceeds to arse-rape the still fairly drunken guy, who soon passed out with the pain. The next thing he can remember is arriving at A&E to get 6 stitches in his arse. He was too embarrassed to go to the police about it, and never went back to that pub again…
Not all heroes wear capes...absolute gold LADS.
Their pitch is apparently really picturesque, top of a hill, there's beautiful poppy fields all around it. One day one of their players was at a club social in the Pavillion and got talking to the barmaid, managed to get her to agree to some romantic al fresco fun over in the poppy fields.
Off they go to the field, but just as they reach a good spot they nearly trip over something - up pops the club captain, red faced and sweaty... followed by the lad's mum.
Colleague Shaun, fellow trainee surveyor, invited a load of people to his poky house near Albany Park to celebrate his 21st, including the staff of the next door dentist we'd got to know up the pub after work on Fridays. Over the previous few Fridays I'd struck up a warm, if chaste, rapport with a 20something shapely brunette dental hygenist and was delighted to learn she'd be coming along to Shaun's party. TBH Helen should've been well out of my league, four or five years older and more than a bit posh - she was from Bromley after all. Not strictly a 'date' I suppose but we were both definitely going to the same party and hope sprung in my youthful naivety! Saturday evening arrives warm and sunny and the party is in full swing, mostly in the garden. The partners' PA at our firm, Pat, was a slim, wealthy, glamorous 55 year old who made no secret of fancying the arse off Shaun and had essentially promised him an unforgettable birthday. More than old enough to be his mum this was alarming to me at the time. More alarming still was Pat's best mate, Jan, she brought with her to the do. Same age, similar dress sense, not in quite such good shape and after our introduction clearly determined that Pat wouldn't be the only cougar getting her claws into some fresh meat that evening. The horny idiot in me was excited of course but the rest of me firmly held a candle for Helen and didn't want Jan messing things up for me tonight of all nights. Plus I'd never live it down at work.
I'd had to politely swerve a couple of Jan's 'advances' through the early part of the evening and so far no sign of Helen or the nurses from the dentists.
As was so often the case one or two party goers, completely overdid it very quickly and one curvy blonde had been carried comatose up to Shaun's spare room by about 9pm to sleep off her overindulgence.
Helen and her colleagues arrived stylishly late and my evening brightened when she came straight over and sat down with me. Tragically tho she'd turned up absolutely full of a stinking cold. Seems I wasn't barking up the wrong tree, she had dragged herself from her bed of pain, dosed herself up, in the hope of us getting to know each other better. Call me selfish... but I didn't fancy snogging someone as germ-laden and sneezy as she then was. We passed a slightly awkward hour or so in polite/snotty conversation before her mates decided the party was a bust and they were off. "Nevermind, see you next Friday after work?" "Yep see you then."
Another hour and 3 consiliatory pints later I'm cornered in the unlit sideway by a well refreshed Jan whispering furiously in my ear about how: "that silly drunk girl from earlier is still passed out in the spare room upstairs smelling of puke, means we can't pop in there for some how'syerfather". Amongst nightmare visions of Jan proposing a knee trembler against the wall, I'm beginning to wonder where the cut off point was between getting drunk enough to focus the beer goggles and so drunk I'd fall down on the job. Pat fortunately retrieved her big horny mate and, Jan gone, the rest of my evening passed without further middle-aged sexual harassment.
Being responsible young people I was one of a dozen who brought sleeping bags to crash on the floor and avoid the drinking/driving issue. In the quiet grey hours before dawn I needed a piss so hauled myself up out of my bag and headed upstairs to the bathroom. Duly relieved I return down the stairs to see an unmistakably naked female figure making her way unsteadily down ahead of me and turn into the front room where we overnighters were billeted. Spotting a (my) unattended sleeping bag and unaware of me behind her, she gets in and lays down quite content. Trying not to waken too many others I point out to her that "that's my sleeping bag, where were you sleeping before? I think you've made a mistake and by the way do you realise you're starkers?" Her evident intoxication and the whiff of vomit suggests to me that this is the early evening casualty who had unwittingly saved me from Jan's libidinous intent some hours earlier. "Are you Shaun?" she asks "get in, you're lovely, it'll be lovely" I demure and still well sloshed she promptly nods off snoring gently. I left her to it and got a few hours kip in a vacant armchair. The naked wanderer was the last to wake up Sunday morning and understandably puzzled and then alarmed to find herself nude in an unfamiliar sleeping bag. Having had her clothes returned to her from upstairs, she sheepishly gave me back my property, quietly asking whether we'd done anything last night. I assured her of my good character and we never spoke of it again.
Best of all: the indiscretions of neither woman nor my unintended small role therein (stop giggling at the back) ever apparently reached the ears of the recovered Helen the following week. H invited me to her own birthday party later the same month and many more dates ensued - safe to say none quite as memorable nor scary as that night at Shaun's.