As posited by myself and confirmed by the venerable Arnold Winkelried, this amusing thread, originally started a long, long time ago here:
(Ok, Arnold or anyone at all, I’m not at work and my laptop is not up to this, sorry … link?)
shall now continue in reborn form!
As previously suggested, I shall start.
Though I have posted this before and it really isn’t all that funny, one time my girlfriend and I, after school and not realizing my 'rents were home, decided we should celebrate one of my few nights off from work by, um, enjoying each other’s company in my room in the basement.
Well my girlfriend was not the quiet sort and we’re going at it, blasting off all the hormones teenagers can for a good ten or fifteen minutes.
Well, at this point, we hear a pounding on the floor and my mother’s voice shouts out, “We’re trying to eat up here!”
A wonderful person you are B.Pants … far better than my laptop, which would not let me cut and paste the thread. We shall see if anything shall come of this.
After all, it was a great old thread, and anyone who looks at the link would appreciate.
I once drove to Cincinnati to see a woman I had dated in college. Late that night, after I gave her a lengthy tongue-lashing, she begged me to stop. She said she had come three times already. I didn’t know; she was a quiet comer. I said, “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have baked a cake.” She giggled, and then…well, the rest was fun, but not funny.
The same 5 CDs were playing in CD player for several of our lovemaking sessions. One particular CD coincidentally seemed to be playing just about the time that we had recovered enough from our passion to be aware of the outside world.
She asked me,“Champ, is that your favorite disk”?
I replied, “Yeah . . . is this your favorite dick”?
I once knew a woman who referred to her vagina as her “fuzzy bear.”
She was also very verbal during sex.
She was very hurt and went into a deep sulk one time after I collapsed into helpless giggling after hearing “Oh, yeah, lick my fuzzy bear!” repeatedly.
“Don’t laugh at me!”
Another girlfriend mysteriously used to say “I like Big Bird! I like Big Bird!” when she was about to climax, which she would never elaborate on afterwards. (Can anyone fill me in on an esoteric meaning of that phrase that I’ve somehow missed out on in my sheltered life?)
I assure you, these were both women in their late thirties.
Yup, I sure can pick 'em. Not that I’m incapable of saying insane things–
February 14th, 1988, a very nice young lady took me home after I’d met her at a special “Valentine’s Installment” of a late-night avante-garde performance art radio show.* Being a bit of an awkward teen, I wasn’t quite sure how to fill the silence after we’d “finished.” I finally settled on “I guess, since we’re getting to know each other, I ought to tell you that I do feast on the blood of the living.” I didn’t gauge her reaction very well. She screamed and appeared to teleport to the corner of the room, where she huddled with the sheets pulled around her. Amazingly, after I managed to convince her that it was a poorly-timed joke, we had a great, long-lasting (although off-and-on) relationship. And Mudd learned a valuable lesson.
*(My contribution, by the way, was Orgasm en Masse – The Jism Mechanism, a bunch of noise made with some friends who recorded as “Electric Mudd”)
One morning my wife and I were in the throws of passion when something slammed against our bedroom window. Looking up, we saw Ziggy, our big orange tomcat climbing the window screen. He was about 2/3 of the way up when the screen tipped then fell out of the window frame. We heard the thump of him hitting the ground then the screen landing on top of him. For some reason we both found this extremely funny and we never did finish what we started.
I was “playing” with a woman in her bedroom. We were hot and heavy, and I guess she was really trying to turn me on, so she said “I want you to cum on my tits.”
It seemed a little strange that she would say this, since we were in real life and not a cheesy porno, so I said “Really?”
And she, in this “Duh” tone of voice, replied “No”. We both were hysterical for several minutes over this.
I was “doing the deed” with my boyfriend (x now) and he was kind of a heavier man. He was on top of me going missionary. In the middle of it he asks “I’m not squishing you, am I?”
My response?
“No, I can’t even feel you”
I then realized how he could perceive that and started laughing my head off.
