Profile for slippery doctore:
well, i'm not really slippery or a doctor. I am however a full-time lurker, and a good one at that.
Tits!
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- a member for 21 years, 6 months and 5 days
- has posted 313 messages on the main board
- has posted 112 messages on the talk board
- has posted 67 messages on the links board
- (including 59 links)
- has posted 62 stories and 3 replies on question of the week
- They liked 681 pictures, 108 links, 1 talk posts, and 146 qotw answers.
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well, i'm not really slippery or a doctor. I am however a full-time lurker, and a good one at that.
Tits!
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Voyeurism
Terminator!
There was a time when I was doing the "dogging a workmate" game for a few months. Regularly I'd end up at hers after a hard days coding (we were a small software/website company) and pretending nothing was happening while all the time thinking about the debauched acts you wanted to perform on the c# girl that night. Thus, the sexitime was, to be fair, some of the best, roughest, and loudest I've ever had.
Anyway, turns out her neighbours had regularly complained to her after I'd gone about the rythmic thumping, screamings, crashings and general carnage that went about during such events. Almost each time in fact. In fairness, I could understand, but it put me off about 0% setting about the job each time.
Anyway, as we knew this guy used to listen, we thought we'd give him something to listen too....being the most random finishing phrase I could possibly come up with, while, er finishing up. Actually, when I say 'we', I mean 'me' to be honest, but I digress.
Such gems would include:
"I AM THE TERMINATORRRRRRR!" In the loudest, lowest, gruffest, ejaculation-distorted voice I could conjour up.
The geekiest was perhaps a rough recital of FTP commands:
"150 Connecting!, 331 Logged In! GAAAAH JEEESUS!!..............200 Upload complete!".
Try doing that when peaking the mountain AND timing it right.
(Thu 11th Oct 2007, 19:33, More)
Terminator!
There was a time when I was doing the "dogging a workmate" game for a few months. Regularly I'd end up at hers after a hard days coding (we were a small software/website company) and pretending nothing was happening while all the time thinking about the debauched acts you wanted to perform on the c# girl that night. Thus, the sexitime was, to be fair, some of the best, roughest, and loudest I've ever had.
Anyway, turns out her neighbours had regularly complained to her after I'd gone about the rythmic thumping, screamings, crashings and general carnage that went about during such events. Almost each time in fact. In fairness, I could understand, but it put me off about 0% setting about the job each time.
Anyway, as we knew this guy used to listen, we thought we'd give him something to listen too....being the most random finishing phrase I could possibly come up with, while, er finishing up. Actually, when I say 'we', I mean 'me' to be honest, but I digress.
Such gems would include:
"I AM THE TERMINATORRRRRRR!" In the loudest, lowest, gruffest, ejaculation-distorted voice I could conjour up.
The geekiest was perhaps a rough recital of FTP commands:
"150 Connecting!, 331 Logged In! GAAAAH JEEESUS!!..............200 Upload complete!".
Try doing that when peaking the mountain AND timing it right.
(Thu 11th Oct 2007, 19:33, More)
» Personal Ads
Not the girl of my dreams
In the aftermath of a relationship that didn't work out, I was, somewhat lonely in the preceding weeks. I thought I'd counter these feelings of emptiness by meeting the girl of my dreams sooner rather than later, and by using the interwebs to do so!
So, I strike up a half-arsed ad, find a picture of me not belming or generally looking like a mong, upload the bitch, and await the storms of beautiful maidens to come hammering at my inbox.
Nay, dear reader, no such luck was to be had. By the time this dawned on me several days later I had rediscovered pr0n in a new way anyway and was back to the self depravity & debauchery rarely seen in civilised societies, so was not too bothered anyway.
But hark! An email arrives!
Yes! Dear reader, my princess had finally come through in the end! Her name was Emma, lets call her, and in the photos she sent though she looked like a stunner! Blonde hair, slim, nice eyes....in my imagination she was surely the one! We agree to meet in a pub near her town.
On the bus, in my head, i had already planned everything – how I was going to ask her out, how we’d spend countless good times together, even how I’d propose in a few years time.
On arrival, a “girl” in a “red-dress” approaches bearing a resemblance to the figure of beauty i was awaiting. Oh fuck, it was her. Oh fuck! She was hideous.....to say she’d put on a few pounds since the photos were taking would be polite, and her face looked like it had been hit with a shovel. I was considering to offer to “re-spade” her face, in an attempt at improving it maybe.
Ah, but it doesn’t stop there either. No. Obviously, I’m not up for making this the large night i was planning, so I let her do the talking and I just pretend I’m tired ready for the “make excuses and leave” operation.
So she tells me all sorts....to cut it short, it was about how she, er, likes getting “utterly faking wankered” and pulling black men, but, oh yeah, she actually “hates blacks” really (!!!), it’s just that “they’ve got really big cocks innit?!”. Nothing about favourite music, not even about job/hobbies....straight to “black cock”!
Another revelation was that she liked black cock so much that one day she got pregnant from one – “dunno who the cunt was though do I?”. Said child of said “cunt” was 6 years old at the time of meeting.
The situation is bordering on so awful that I’m starting to not-so-silently guffaw to myself, producing some strange looks from my “date” who is taking this very seriously.
And here comes the killer, o B3ta. After about the time it takes to drink 2/3rds of a Guinness, she launches the final a-bomb onto an unsuspecting me. She said, and I quote, “I really fakin like you, and I reckon you’d make a wicked dad!”
Nearly choking on my Guinness I spluttered “just going a piss” and promptly bee-lined for the fire exit. I couldn’t wank for a week.
Length? Like an arm, apparently.
(Thu 13th Sep 2007, 22:05, More)
Not the girl of my dreams
In the aftermath of a relationship that didn't work out, I was, somewhat lonely in the preceding weeks. I thought I'd counter these feelings of emptiness by meeting the girl of my dreams sooner rather than later, and by using the interwebs to do so!
So, I strike up a half-arsed ad, find a picture of me not belming or generally looking like a mong, upload the bitch, and await the storms of beautiful maidens to come hammering at my inbox.
Nay, dear reader, no such luck was to be had. By the time this dawned on me several days later I had rediscovered pr0n in a new way anyway and was back to the self depravity & debauchery rarely seen in civilised societies, so was not too bothered anyway.
But hark! An email arrives!
Yes! Dear reader, my princess had finally come through in the end! Her name was Emma, lets call her, and in the photos she sent though she looked like a stunner! Blonde hair, slim, nice eyes....in my imagination she was surely the one! We agree to meet in a pub near her town.
On the bus, in my head, i had already planned everything – how I was going to ask her out, how we’d spend countless good times together, even how I’d propose in a few years time.
On arrival, a “girl” in a “red-dress” approaches bearing a resemblance to the figure of beauty i was awaiting. Oh fuck, it was her. Oh fuck! She was hideous.....to say she’d put on a few pounds since the photos were taking would be polite, and her face looked like it had been hit with a shovel. I was considering to offer to “re-spade” her face, in an attempt at improving it maybe.
Ah, but it doesn’t stop there either. No. Obviously, I’m not up for making this the large night i was planning, so I let her do the talking and I just pretend I’m tired ready for the “make excuses and leave” operation.
So she tells me all sorts....to cut it short, it was about how she, er, likes getting “utterly faking wankered” and pulling black men, but, oh yeah, she actually “hates blacks” really (!!!), it’s just that “they’ve got really big cocks innit?!”. Nothing about favourite music, not even about job/hobbies....straight to “black cock”!
Another revelation was that she liked black cock so much that one day she got pregnant from one – “dunno who the cunt was though do I?”. Said child of said “cunt” was 6 years old at the time of meeting.
The situation is bordering on so awful that I’m starting to not-so-silently guffaw to myself, producing some strange looks from my “date” who is taking this very seriously.
And here comes the killer, o B3ta. After about the time it takes to drink 2/3rds of a Guinness, she launches the final a-bomb onto an unsuspecting me. She said, and I quote, “I really fakin like you, and I reckon you’d make a wicked dad!”
Nearly choking on my Guinness I spluttered “just going a piss” and promptly bee-lined for the fire exit. I couldn’t wank for a week.
Length? Like an arm, apparently.
(Thu 13th Sep 2007, 22:05, More)
» My first experience of porn
uni!
Yep, in university was my first pr0n experience. Wassat? A bit late in the day, you say?
Not at all friends, not at all. This was in the golden internet age when Netscape 2 (or 3; can’t quite remember) was hip, this 'Internet' was the newest drug & craziest drug going, and people would gather from afar just to 'surf' in the luckier spots of the UK that were ‘connected’.
Father excitedly told me one day that we’d be going ‘surfing’. ‘Excellent!’ thought I; ‘finally, I shall experience this alternative world!’ Basically, it turned out that his mate could get us into the uni he was going to, so off we went one rainy Saturday.
I spent the whole 1 and a half hours of sitting in the back seat imagining what exciting things I’d discover ‘online’ when we arrive. I mean really, even now, it sounds like a bit like getting high or something when someone says they’re going “to surf the net”, or “get connected” – as mundane as it might really now be. You can do anything at all; talk to someone 12,000 miles away, get information on anything, laugh, dance, and cry with other surfers also taking this bold new drug.
We arrived. I sat in front of some dirty 486 box with a dusty 14” CRT glaring at me (those were the days). My dad’s mate shows me the ropes – “This is Netscape; it’s your browser...” (like it a fucking air-hostess or something), and so on. “Right, you’re all set – enjoy the net!” – and he leaves me to my own devices.
And so off I went...just ‘surfing’, for about 2 mins & 30 seconds... until I realised, you could type 'sex' and other such phrases into the search box on the homepage, and behold at what true wonders the Internet held!
Indeed, fellow B3tans, this story is of my first public wanking experience too; I, the Slippery Doctore, have cracked one off to a dirty slag trying to fit a melon up her cunt; hand-in-pocket hoping no-one would notice, in Luton university library.
Do I get extra points for my Dad being in the same room?
(Thu 25th Jan 2007, 20:09, More)
uni!
Yep, in university was my first pr0n experience. Wassat? A bit late in the day, you say?
Not at all friends, not at all. This was in the golden internet age when Netscape 2 (or 3; can’t quite remember) was hip, this 'Internet' was the newest drug & craziest drug going, and people would gather from afar just to 'surf' in the luckier spots of the UK that were ‘connected’.
Father excitedly told me one day that we’d be going ‘surfing’. ‘Excellent!’ thought I; ‘finally, I shall experience this alternative world!’ Basically, it turned out that his mate could get us into the uni he was going to, so off we went one rainy Saturday.
I spent the whole 1 and a half hours of sitting in the back seat imagining what exciting things I’d discover ‘online’ when we arrive. I mean really, even now, it sounds like a bit like getting high or something when someone says they’re going “to surf the net”, or “get connected” – as mundane as it might really now be. You can do anything at all; talk to someone 12,000 miles away, get information on anything, laugh, dance, and cry with other surfers also taking this bold new drug.
We arrived. I sat in front of some dirty 486 box with a dusty 14” CRT glaring at me (those were the days). My dad’s mate shows me the ropes – “This is Netscape; it’s your browser...” (like it a fucking air-hostess or something), and so on. “Right, you’re all set – enjoy the net!” – and he leaves me to my own devices.
And so off I went...just ‘surfing’, for about 2 mins & 30 seconds... until I realised, you could type 'sex' and other such phrases into the search box on the homepage, and behold at what true wonders the Internet held!
Indeed, fellow B3tans, this story is of my first public wanking experience too; I, the Slippery Doctore, have cracked one off to a dirty slag trying to fit a melon up her cunt; hand-in-pocket hoping no-one would notice, in Luton university library.
Do I get extra points for my Dad being in the same room?
(Thu 25th Jan 2007, 20:09, More)
» I hurt my rude bits
Crushed Cock
Back in the days of uni, the misses of the time and I were attempting to have filthy water-accelerated sex in one of the miniscule showers of her student housing. We tried all sorts of weird and wonderful positions to get that optimal power-thrusting position, but not with much success. After trying a few out, I decided it might be a good idea to sit on the floor and get her bouncing on top.
As she prepares for the initial 'sex-landing' her foot slipped, and to avoid falling over she did the spacker dance to try and regain upward stability and, in the process, landed hard with the other foot onto my awaiting and skyward-facing cock.
I screamed like a girl and did a fart simultaneously. It took weeks to recover.
(Fri 14th Jul 2006, 10:05, More)
Crushed Cock
Back in the days of uni, the misses of the time and I were attempting to have filthy water-accelerated sex in one of the miniscule showers of her student housing. We tried all sorts of weird and wonderful positions to get that optimal power-thrusting position, but not with much success. After trying a few out, I decided it might be a good idea to sit on the floor and get her bouncing on top.
As she prepares for the initial 'sex-landing' her foot slipped, and to avoid falling over she did the spacker dance to try and regain upward stability and, in the process, landed hard with the other foot onto my awaiting and skyward-facing cock.
I screamed like a girl and did a fart simultaneously. It took weeks to recover.
(Fri 14th Jul 2006, 10:05, More)
» Airport Stories
Wierd Traditions
Slightly off topic but...
I have two bizarre traditions that sort of tie in to this QOTW.
For some reason, I've been collecting one of every type of the safety cards they put in the planes. I've got shit loads!
Worse than this though is my equally strange and strong compulsions to beat off on every type of aircraft too. Seriously, I can't help it! If it's not a model in the 'collection', the minute that seat-belt sign is switch off, I can be seen heading for the shitter for some first-class hand-to-gland combat in order to satisfy this urge.
Who else can honestly and categorically say they've stroked the lord on a....
Airbus: A319, A320, A321
Boeing: 737, 757, 767, 777
McDonnell Douglas: MD-80, MD-90
BAe: 146
??
I get some seriously odd looks sometimes when emerging from the small box of a toilet red-faced and out of breath. People either clock on (and promptly decide to wait for the next toilet) or assume I've just taken a hell-raising shit (and also decide to wait).
Anyway, I can't believe I'm even telling you this. But it's good to share.
(Fri 3rd Mar 2006, 12:46, More)
Wierd Traditions
Slightly off topic but...
I have two bizarre traditions that sort of tie in to this QOTW.
For some reason, I've been collecting one of every type of the safety cards they put in the planes. I've got shit loads!
Worse than this though is my equally strange and strong compulsions to beat off on every type of aircraft too. Seriously, I can't help it! If it's not a model in the 'collection', the minute that seat-belt sign is switch off, I can be seen heading for the shitter for some first-class hand-to-gland combat in order to satisfy this urge.
Who else can honestly and categorically say they've stroked the lord on a....
Airbus: A319, A320, A321
Boeing: 737, 757, 767, 777
McDonnell Douglas: MD-80, MD-90
BAe: 146
??
I get some seriously odd looks sometimes when emerging from the small box of a toilet red-faced and out of breath. People either clock on (and promptly decide to wait for the next toilet) or assume I've just taken a hell-raising shit (and also decide to wait).
Anyway, I can't believe I'm even telling you this. But it's good to share.
(Fri 3rd Mar 2006, 12:46, More)