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Things I Found In My Attic Today

21 Sep

I’ve just been cleaning out my attic and to my delight I found an old trunk which I had forgotten about for some time.It contains many of my most treasured possessions. Amongst them;

A Stuffed Camel – This was given to me by my Grandfather before he passed away. It was one of his most treasured possessions and the story that goes with how it came into his hands really is quite remarkable; he stole it off of Adolf Hitler’s bed. During the second World War, he was part of a little known squadron that happened to infiltrate one of Hitler’s many hideouts. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to capture the evil tyrant as he was out at the time. Instead he, and the other soldiers with him, feasted on food that they found in Hitler’s cupboards until they were fit to burst. My Grandfather told of the juiciness of Hitler’s grapes and would always add “Not his haemorrhoids you cheeky buggers!” when we stifled our laughter at this part of his story. He would also go into great detail about the ornate decor in the hideout that they had infiltrated, in particular, the naked woman on all of the ceilings that had been hand painted in fascinating detail. My Grandfather would say, “You could make out every pubic hair. That’s how impressive the paintings were. Of course, back then, all the ladies had hairy vaginas”.

It was in Hitler’s bedroom that the stuffed camel was stolen. My Grandfather spotted it sat on one of Hitler’s pillows and couldn’t resist the urge to take it. In its place, he squatted and defecated onto the pillow, then stuck a cigarette in the fresh stool, along with two Smarties for eyes. Giggling, a few of the soldiers then put Hitler’s pants over their trousers and pretended that they were army superheroes, running all over the house and throwing fruit at each other. My Grandfather placed the camel in his backpack and it was there it stayed until his return to English shores. He kept the capture of the camel a secret from his superiors, and it was only once the war was over that he showed the rest of the family just what he had found in Germany. We named the camel, unoriginally, ‘Adolf Humpler’.

 

A Signed Copy of the Bible – I’m not sure how genuine this is, but I refuse to throw it away despite the fact I’m an atheist. It’s quite tatty, and it is now stored inside a smaller wooden box to prevent any further damage to it, and I have been advised by my mother to wear gloves when handling it, (not that I ever read it). On the inside front cover of the copy I own are the words ‘All the best, Jesus Christ’ with a little smiley face which has a beard. I have no reasons to doubt that this could be a fake. It might be worth something in a few years time, so I am trying to take good care of it.

 

Lucky Packet of Chewing Gum – This means a lot to me because it was given to me by my Dad, even though it has bought him so much luck over the years. He came up to me one day with it, pressed it into my hand and told me to keep it. “I’m getting old, son”, he said, “You have this now”. The chewing gum is an unopened packet of Wrigelys Extra; spearmint flavour. My Dad first discovered it was lucky when he was rubbing it in his trouser pocket during the 1966 World Cup Final. He claims it is because of this rubbing action, it was responsible for England winning the World Cup, as well as his substantial win on the Pools, the fact he met my Mum and numerous other fortunate events. Each time something good happened to him, the chewing gum was in his pocket. I took the lucky qualities of the chewing gum with a pinch of salt; I was just grateful to be given something that meant so much to my Dad. However, after he gave it to me, it bought me one stroke of tremendous luck.

I was in town a few years ago with friends, and a mugger came up and tried to steal my wallet. A tussle ensued, but he managed to prise it from my hands. As he attempted to run off, I went for him, and he pulled a gun and took a shot at me. The chewing gum was in the top pocket of my denim jacket I was wearing. Usually, I wouldn’t take the chewing gum out with me, but for some reason I’d decided to take it with me on this particular day. I was so fortunate that day; the bullet missed me and hit one of the friends I was with instead.

 

A Wooden Replica Elephant’s Penis – On my gap year I decided to do a bit of travelling. I ended up, by mistake, in Kenya, having hid inside my own suitcase for a laugh as I wanted to give the baggage handlers a bit of a fright. This backfired somewhat when the movement from me inside the case caused the baggage label to fall off, along with that of a case that was resting alongside the one I was in. The labels were replaced, incorrectly, by the handlers and I ended up in Kenya instead of Prague. I decided to make the most of the mishap and stayed with locals for a few days, playing Frisbee, teaching them English swear words, shooting animals and eating all sorts of exotic meats such as tiger and zebra. They adored me out there, and when it was time for me to leave, they presented me with a huge wooden penis. They explained that the elephant was seen as some sort of God in their country, and that I had reminded them of a God. The penis was carved as a gesture of goodwill, and is supposed to ward off evil spirits.

 

Charlie Chaplin’s Kidney Stone – Stolen from Chaplin’s toilet by my wacky uncle, the kidney stone has the aroma of fame and the texture of success. My uncle was a stagehand back in Chaplin’s heyday. One evening before a live performance, my uncle heard Chaplin in the toilet, shouting loudly and making a great deal of fuss, which was unheard of. He hid and waited for Chaplin to go on stage. Once he had, my uncle rushed to the loo and it was here that he was greeted with one solitary kidney stone that hadn’t been flushed away. He delved into to water to retrieve it (later claiming to have caught syphilis from the toilet seat) and he gave the stone to me on my 18th birthday.

 

Samantha Littleslot’s Goggles – Samantha was a girl with breasts like udders that I used to date in secondary school. One night, we sneaked into the local swimming baths, where she proceeded to give me the most satisfying blow job of my life to date. I had warned her before we started dating that it had been a long time since I had been intimate with a lady, and as such, she took precautions by wearing her swimming goggles whilst my todger was in her mouth. As I ejaculated (I saw stars I may add), my semen gushed forth and Samantha was unable to contain it in her mouth. Her head moved away from my penis, and I covered her face in teenage gooey mess. Fortunately, her goggles saved her eyes from my stinging jism. She gently removed them from her face and left them on the changing room floor. I pocketed them in secret before we left, as a memento of the occasion. They were cleaned as soon as I got them home.

 

A Pickled Finger – When holidaying in the Maldives, I spotted a glass bottle floating in the sea towards the shore. I ran over to it, intrigued, and was surprised to find a severed finger inside, preserved in vinegar. Attached to the neck of the bottle was a message, stitched into parchment. It read ‘To whoever finds my middle finger: Up Yours’. I have done a little research into the owner of the finger but have had no real success in finding out who it belongs to. My local Pirate Museum valued the finger at around £5000 a couple of years back,  so it was a good find.

 

Coleen Nolan’s Tambourine – It’s a little known fact that Coleen Nolan is a tambourine enthusiast. In fact, she used to busk in my local area with a tambourine before she hit the big time with her sisters. It was my young child’s inquisitive nature that blagged me her tambourine when she came back to her old stomping ground for a rare tambourine medley last year. My daughter asked to have a go, and loved bashing Coleen’s tambourine with great vigour, so much so that she didn’t want to give it back. Coleen was good about it though, and agreed to swap in for two Cheese-strings, a Curly-Wurly and an orgasm.  It was all I had on me at the time to offer her in return. I of course obliged, and left her exhausted with a smile on her face, and her tambourine in my hand.

 

A Match Ticket – Not just any match ticket, this is a ticket to the first ever Swan Twatting Championships that was open to the public. In 1974, the Swan Twatting governing body allowed non-ST’s (Swan Twatters) to attend the championships. My father, a big fan, managed to win a ticket to the event. He was disappointed as he had missed out when the tickets had gone on general sale, but to his enormous surprise, he won a golden ticket in a breakfast cereal that was sponsoring the event. More surprising to me, is that he didn’t have his lucky chewing gum at the time.

 

There are still plenty more things to look through, I’ve been pouring over so many objects and remembering so many great stories. I’ll note down the others soon.

A new account, coffee and a bit of oral sex

7 Jul

I’d decided I wanted to open a new savings account and after scanning a few of the comparison websites, Halifax was to be my chosen bank (also aided by the fact that of all the banks, The Halifax is closest to where I live).

Working throughout the week and not wanting to waste my precious weekends, I thought it best to venture to Halifax during a lunch break, giving me 50 minutes to queue, hand over the already filled in application form and ID (including a utility bill)and deposit £10 cash into my newly opened account. What I hadn’t chanced upon was being served by Susan.

Ahhh, Susan. Her brunette hair and deep brown eyes will forever stay in my memory; her sweet soft lips forever encrusted in my mind in the file marked ‘wanking material’.

‘Cashier number 2 please’ came the voice from the tannoy, and it was finally my turn to be served after about 10 minutes of waiting patiently. As I stepped up to the perspex window of despair, I noticed a radiant smile beaming back at me and a split second later a pretty face, with toussled, tangled locks swept delicately behind each ear. Her eyes were warm and gentle; instantly carming.

My eyes drifted south, and an ample chest, tightly packed into Susan’s blue blouse, heaved back at me with every breathe she took. I thought to myself that I’d be able to peek a bit of bra if I was stood to one side of her, as the fabric between each button was forced apart under the strain of her bust. Dirty thoughts raced through my mind.

“How can I help?” said Susan gently.

‘Shit, I’ve been caught staring’ I thought to myself.

“I’d like to open a new account please” came my mumbled response, my face getting hotter and more crimson by the second. I was in lust; I wanted Susan there and then, it was a longing that I’d never experienced in my life up to that point, and haven’t since.

15 minutes or so passed and my new account was set up and ready for use, but all I could think about during that time was she. I lost the ability to write; I struggled to sign my name. I’m sure I said one or two stupid things, maybe more, but she had laughed at my lame jokes. She twisted her hair in her fingers as she spoke to me. Was this flirting? According to the magazines it was.
I wanted to see Susan again. Soon. But how? It was as she handed me back my ID that I decided to chance it…

“Would you be up for going for a coffee tomorrow lunch time”. I couldn’t believe that I’d come out with it. She was out of my league, a stunner, she’d have a boyfriend for sure.

“Sure, why not. Here’s my number, I have lunch from one to two o’clock tomorrow” replied Susan, smiling.

I smiled back, “See you then”, and walked out of Halifax. I almost jumped and clicked my heels together as I made my way back to work; tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

===========

We sat upstairs in Costa making small talk, edging ever closer to each other until our thighs were touching. I felt an instant shock run up my leg and all the way up my spine. My heart fluttered with desire and I watched her; ‘I could watch her talk forever’, I thought to myself. She was perfect.
She touched my hand as she laughed. I liked it when she did so. She tilted her head slightly to the left when trying to get life anecdotes and small talk from my shy self. I liked this even more.

I’d barely touched my coffee, and she was about a third of the way through her frapucinno when she whispered in my ear, “Follow me”.
She took me by the hand, quite gingerly at first, and then clasped it tightly as we stood up and she skipped towards to female toilets, pulling me with her. Looking around to make sure no-one was looking, she pushed me through the door and led me to a cubicle.

As the cubicle door shut behind her I kissed on the back of the neck as she slid the lock to ‘occupied’. Susan turned and our lips met. They were so soft, so gentle, and her tongue felt warm and almost rough in comparison as it worked with mine. We stumbled backwards, holding each other for support, the kissing getting more frenzied with every passing moment. I felt her reach for the flies on my work trousers and I repayed the favour, being careful not to rub too hard against her polyester trousers for fear of getting a static shock.

Susan’s hands moved from my waist and all the way up my back until she was cupping my neck. Then she slid them outwards across my shoulders, forcing me down onto the toilet as she did so. We both gasped for breath. I remember wiping saliva from the corner of my mouth. As Susan dropped to her knees, my meaty bangstick pulsated and throbbed with all its might, itching to be freed from the cage that was my boxer shorts and into the beautiful wilderness that was Susan’s mouth. I lifted my buttocks slightly so that she could pull my trousers and boxers down.

The blow job was heavenly. Susan’s tongue teased my shaft as she licked gently from my balls up to the tip, smiling and moaning as she did so. This was a huge turn on, knowing that she was enjoying pleasuring me. She teased me, opening her mouth over my cock, but refusing to close until I was near on begging her to suck me into oblivion. By now my shaft was truly awesome; more hard and manly than ever before, aching with the pain and torment of not being relieved. My balls sat tightly, like two vacuum packed ping pong balls, all the while being gently groped by Susan’s ever willing hand. Eventually she took me into her mouth, her eyes looking up at me as she did so. Her eyes looked so innocent, so pure, and I had to remind myself that she was expertly working my cock with both hand and mouth, definitely no amateur, and certainly no angel.

The relief was immense. I saw colours and lights and my hands gripped Susan’s shoulders tightly. My salty love stew dribbled from the corner of Susan’s mouth and my bellend glistened with post cum.

“Best get back to work” she said and she smiled and left me, sat half naked in the female toilets of Costa.

I continued seeing Susan for about 2 months after this first encounter and it is a part of my life that I will always look back on with great fondness. We even had sex in the bank during early evenings when she had to balance the tills. This soon stopped because I couldn’t face cumming whilst looking at a life size cut out of Howard the Halifax Man. She no longer works at the branch; she moved to Devon and was transferred

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