Tag Archives: arse

One up the Gary…

1 Sep

From the age of 18 I worked as a builder’s labourer for a couple of years. It was one of my first ‘proper’ jobs, and I did really enjoy it. It was different every day and paid well, but one of the things I enjoyed the most was the ‘banter’ on site. I heard many funny stories from the various builders, electricians and plumbers I met doing my job and as I became more familiar with the people I was working with, I’d get up to all sorts of mischief myself.

One job I remember very well was a loft conversion that I helped on. One afternoon, Spud (another labourer), and I were in the loft, helping Gary the electrician out. It was a bloody hot day, and being in the loft was not the most comfortable of experiences; the insulation was itchy and hurt like buggery when rubbed against a sweaty arm. Gary was in the room below and we were feeding down cables that he’d installed in the loft the day before. We were almost done when Spud had a brainwave.

“Follow my lead”, he said, and I sensed that his plan was mischievous.

Gary shouted up from below, “Can you feed the next one down, lads?”

“We can’t see the hole”, was Spud’s instant response. He looked at me and winked. He was already a massive Cheshire Cat like grin on his face.

“Poke your finger up through it”.

With that, Gary’s bony index finger emerged through the plasterboard, like a bulbous earthworm emerging from the soil.

“Nope, still can’t see it Gary. Hold on, we’ll have a look”. As Spud said this, he was unbuckling his belt and unfastening his jeans. He looked at me again and put his finger to his lips. I tried hard not to laugh.

“I’m over here”, said Gary, “a few rafters in from the end”.

“Hold on, Gary”, I shouted back.

Spud already knew where Gary was positioned, and was hovering over the hole with his trousers round his ankles, buttocks spread. He squatted down further so that his balloon knot was only an inch or so above the plasterboard. He used one arm against a beam to steady himself and then called out again.

“Go on then, stick your finger back up and I’ll see if I can see it”.

The tears were already trickling down my face long before Gary stuck his finger up through the hole.

“Urrrgghh, eerrrrrrrr, what the fuck is that?” said Gary, as his finger recoiled in horror.

Spud just managed to splutter out “You touched my tea-towel holder”, before we both collapsed in hysterics. It was a small thing of beauty which had brightened up a shitty day being stuck in a baking hot loft.

And Gary? Well Gary used a screwdriver from then on in.

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Hiding in the bed

25 Aug

This story doesn’t feature me but two of my close friends. We’ll call them Ray and Ashley. They had been out drinking together, throwing a few abstract shapes on the dance floors of High Wycombe and were suitably drunk. Ray had happened to pull a tasty little blonde lass named Chloe early on in the evening, and Chloe and her mates had joined the two inebriated rapscallions on their jaunt around the pubs and bars of the Buckinghamshire town for the rest of the night. A great time was had by all I’m told; sambuca shots were downed, jugs of sickly sweet cocktails were shared, and the newly acquainted group shared laughs aplenty.

 

Eventually, 2am came, and with it, closing time. The gang made their way over to Dennis’ Kebab Van (now a small celebrity after being bigged-up by rotund comedian James Corden – who would have thought he liked junk food?-  Cracking tits though). Food was purchased and Chloe was intent on going back with Ray for the night. As Ashley had already arranged to stay at Ray’s as well, the trio finished their food and headed for the taxi rank.

 

The taxi journey itself was uneventful; I’m not sure if Ray tried to get his fingers wet or not, but with Ashley sat in the back of the taxi with him and Chloe, it made things rather awkward; after all, he didn’t want his best mate to look like a gooseberry. Time was passed with drunken conversation and banter, rather than the attempted sneaky blowjob Ray had been hoping for. Soon, they arrived home and headed for their bedrooms, with Chloe obviously joining Ray in his king size bed, and Ashley heading off to the spare room to sleep on a single mattress

 

The inevitable happened; Ray and Chloe exchanged bodily fluids and then passed out, whilst Ashley failed in a half-hearted attempt to relieve himself of his own bodily fluid before passing out. However, at around 4am, he woke from his drunken stupor with a raging headache and decided to go downstairs to acquire a drink of water.

 

To get downstairs, Ashley had to pass Ray’s bedroom, which was on the opposite side of the landing. Still drunk and feeling a little mischievous, he decided to take a peek into the bedroom to see what the two lovers were up to. He sneaked over to the door slowly, trying to avoid the creakiest floorboards. Then, he opened the door slowly, pulling it towards him so there was a gap big enough for him to slip through. As he peered over at the bed, he could see both Chloe and Ray asleep, with Chloe on her back nearest the wall, and Ray in the centre of the bed, facing her. The cover was pulled over both of them.

 

Dismayed at not even seeing a female nipple, let alone a hint of boob, Ashley saw how snug they both looked in the big spacious bed. It looked incredibly inviting, so, forgetting the reason why he had got up in the first place, he decided to get in with them. He tiptoed across the bedroom, pulled the corner of the duvet back and slipped in. Then, he pulled the cover over his whole body including his head and promptly fell asleep.

 

Ashley woke feeling hot. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep and he struggled to remember where he was. Then he heard movement next to him. Still he stayed under the covers, racking his hungover brain, trying to retrace his movements. Unexpectedly, he heard a small groan. It was a female groan, he was sure of it. Everything came flooding back to him. He knew exactly where he was.

 

Peering from the top of the duvet, Ashley saw that it was still quite dark, but he could make out the figure of Chloe sat on top of Ray, riding him like a nimble jockey. Ray was laid next to Ashley in the bed, with hands behind his head, unaware that his mate was next to him. Ashley’s initial feelings of shock and then slight horniness quickly dispersed; he now felt like a complete pervert and at a complete loss as to how he could get out of the situation. He couldn’t sneak back out of the bedroom as they’d easily see him, and he didn’t really want to take the chance that Ray and Chloe would fall back asleep once they’d finished their energetic early morning ritual. Instead, he chose another option. An option that has ensured this story gets told time and time again amongst friends.

 

Keeping his legs flat to the bad, Ashley thrust his back and head forwards up off the mattress so that he was sat bolt upright. The duvet cover slipped off of his face, revealing him like a prize on a game show. As he reached the position where he was completely vertical, he waved his right hand in a cheery fashion and said a hearty ‘Helllllooooooo’.

 

Chloe immediately grabbed for something to cover her pendulous breasts with and jumped off Ray’s cock just as quick as she’d hopped on.  Still, Ashley sat in his bolt upright position with a huge grin on his face, maintaining the little wave with his hand, just staring into the same space. Chloe was now screaming at him asking him what the fuck he was playing at and Ray was chuckling to himself, still slightly pissed and a bit annoyed that his early morning shag had been rudely interrupted. After a good 30 seconds of waving, Ashley rolled off the edge of the bed, did a forward roll and left the room, crying with laughter.

Bum is the answer…

8 Jul

Like many of my childhood stories, this one happened in the Summer Holidays. I’m not sure what it is about them that meant that as kids we felt compelled to get up to mischief. Perhaps it was the sense of adventure we felt, spending all day in the park and woods, with no other cares in the world.

 

My brother, cousin, our friend Ash and I were all heading up to the woods. It was the norm for us to bare our backsides at passing cars as we walked along the roads and today was no different. Quite what the drivers and passengers of the vehicles that we flashed our pale white arses at thought of us is anyone’s guess, but I doubt many were impressed. Ash in particular was having a ball, taking the opportunity to be a real daredevil and keep his bum exposed for as long as possible.

 

The road on the hill leading up to the entrance of the woods we were going to was (and still is) very steep, so our jovial antics ceased whilst we walked the mile or so up it, mainly because we were too knackered to run away should a car stop. We walked in single file, deliberately trying to trip one another up; when from behind us we heard a car coming. We stepped off the road and onto a grass verge so that the car could pass easier, but the car didn’t pass, it slowed right down and then came to a complete stop a few metres ahead of us.

 

We were all thinking the same thing. Was this some disgruntled driver that we had exposed ourselves to that had come to tell us off? We carried on walking, heads bowed, in silence.

 

“Excuse me boys, I’m looking for the Plough pub. Do you know where it is?”

 

Phew! I felt relief at the fact that we weren’t going to get a bollocking. I looked at the driver, it was a middle aged gentlemen. Being the oldest I stepped forward to respond. I knew exactly where the pub was, it was only a few hundred yards up the road and on the right hand side. I was about to open my mouth when Ash sprung forward in front of me.

 

In one swift motion, he dropped his shorts and pants, bent forwards so that his crumpled ring piece was facing the driver, and pulled his bum cheeks apart. They were spread quite impressively.

 

“THERE’S YOUR ANSWER”, he bellowed, his beaming face looking at the driver from between his legs. The rest of us were already at full pelt, running for the sanctity of the woods. Trying to run whilst you’re pissing yourself laughing is a very hard thing to do, but when running uphill, it’s even more complex.

 

My brother, cousin and I made it to a small path just off from the road and waited for Ashley. We were all in hysterics, in awe of what we’d just witnessed. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably closer to a minute, Ash arrived; out of breath, but in good spirits, waiting to receive our plaudits.

 

“What did he say?”asked my cousin.

 

“Nothing. He just sat there and looked a bit shaken” said Ash.

 

We lingered where we were for another five minutes, hoping the car would drive pass, but it never did. After a while, we braved venturing out and we walked the rest of the way to the woods. I’m not sure what the driver did, I can only assume he turned back on himself. One thing I often wonder though is what the fuck were we doing? I do miss those times.

Save Yourselves…

17 Nov

My mates and I went through a stage of baring our backsides to passing cars despite being in our late teens. I called it ‘revisiting my youth’. My mother, when she caught us doing it one night, called it ‘being a stupid prat’. Predictably, we always got our bums out after a few drinks and it ensured that a night was rounded off with a good laugh. After a couple of weekends of ‘pulling moonies’ we got bored with the traditional approach of simply waiting for a car to near before we dropped our trousers, so one Friday night after the pub closed, we tried out a new technique.

 

At one end of the high street there was a large roundabout which had four turnings off of it; one obviously going into the centre of town, two headed off in different directions out of town and one led to the car park of a major supermarket. The shrubbery in the middle of the roundabout was quite unkempt and we decided that it would make an excellent hiding place for us to leap out at traffic from. Six of us took up our positions behind various bushes and trees on the roundabout and waited for the first car to approach. As it was late on a Friday night, cars were few and far between, but we were getting one every five to ten minutes.  I’d hear someone shout out excitedly from their hiding position, “Here’s one!”and then the road would be illuminated with the glow from the vehicles headlights.  This was our nod to emerge from the bushes and gather as a group with our arses out, surprising the poor driver. Most of them ignored us, a few laughed and there was the odd driver that would erupt into a fit of rage and circle the roundabout numerous times before we all managed to scarper in various directions.

 

On this particular night, we had been pulling moonies for about forty minutes and decided that the next car would be our last victim of the night. Once again we all got into our hiding positions and waited for the next car, giggling with drunken excitement. A few minutes later, we heard a car approaching. First out of the bushes was one of our friends Ben, a rotund chap who had been kicked out of the pub earlier that evening, not for being drunk, but for being hyper on Coca Cola. As he reached the edge of the roundabout, he dropped his trousers and bent over. The rest of us were making our way over to join him when suddenly someone shouted, “Shit, it’s the police!”

 

A quick look beyond the headlights of the car confirmed that the shout was correct and Ben was now in full mooney position, his crinkled scrotum dangling like a hypnotists chain in front of two bemused coppers who were in the car. Ben heard the shout and peered over his shoulder to see them looking back at him, and then to his right saw the five of us sprinting full pelt towards a retirement home across the road. He tried to pull up his trousers and follow, but he was in such a rush, he could only succeed in getting them halfway up before he started on a pathetic waddle towards us. Trying not to laugh, we made our way into the gardens of the retirement home. Previous escapades had seen us use this as an escape route as you could either climb a fence at one end of the gardens and get onto a little back road, hide behind one of the numerous fruit trees in the ground, or jump over a high hedge which took you into the garden of the house next door. From here, it was possible to leap a few more fences and make a clean getaway.

 

By now, the two coppers were out of the car and in pursuit of us. To his credit, Ben had picked up quite a pace for someone who only had their trousers half on and as we jumped over the fence one by one, he was almost up with the rest of our group, charging like a demented rhino. The two coppers were slightly further back, but gaining ground fast.

 

“Quick Ben you fat fuck”, shouted Mike, the fifth person to drop over the fence. Ben placed one foot on the fence ready to climb, but as he did so, his trousers slipped down once more. Struggling to regain composure, he saw that the coppers were now very close. Every time he went to place his hands on the top of the fence, his trousers would slip down and he’d stop and try and pull them back up again.

 

“Lads, save yourselves! Run, run, run” he shouted, and we pegged it without hesitation as fast as we could, leaving Ben to explain his actions to the police.

 

We all hid in a nearby park for a while, laughing over the events beforehand when my phone suddenly rang. It was Ben.

 

“I’m not answering it” I declared, “It’s probably the police”.

 

One by one, each phone went off until Warren plucked up some courage and answered his. On the other end was Ben, now alone. We arranged to meet.

 

Ben was greeted not with thanks, but with abuse. ‘Gutted you fat wanker’, ‘Ha ha, you retard’ and ‘Nice one, Braveheart’ were a few of the insults I remember. Ben did see the funny side eventually and was grateful that he’d only received a mild ticking off for his ‘immature and quite frankly, disturbing’ behavior, but he still reminds us from time to time about when he put his neck on the line for the rest of us. We in turn respond as you’d expect, by calling him a fat wanker.

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