» Have you ever paid for sex?

Dubai
Went to a hotel (cos thats where all the bar's are)in Duabi called the New Yorker.

Walked past the lump of bouncer and proceeded in whereupon I was immediately grabbed by one of the bar hostesses and asked if I wanted a drink "Ooo, yes please! I'll be at the bar" - She totters off to get my drink (from the bar) and I aim for a friendly Arsenal shirt, also at the bar, assuming he will be english. He was, so we get chatting and I ask him if he knew of anywhere to find a girl for the evening. He laughed and waved his hand across the packed room and said "Take your pick, you can have any of them". This was when it clicked that all the stools were fixed to the floor but facing outward rather than towards the bar. Marvellous I thought, have a few beers, a chat, compare notes, take my pick, and go and have some fun.

The only thing was that by the time you had compared them and thought about it some other git had got in there first and was proceeding out of the door with his hand on her arse. Ok, I thought, after about 3 pints, I'll have to be a bit more pro-active and walk the floor. Now, I'm not racist, but as I was paying for it I wanted to have a white european girl. Not a problem you may think, but there were so many Chinese, Korean, Thai, Indian etc etc it was hard to find 'the one'. I was squeezed, pummelled, pinched, touched up all the way round the room and started to wonder who was picking who here.

I was going to give up and return to my drinking buddy for the night when I saw a stunner. I fought my way across to her and asked her if she was free. B0llocks, Ukrainian and not a word of English. Still, I did not give up and asked the girl next to her if she could translate, which luckily she could, sort of. Anyway, I didn't just want a shag - oh no - greedy old me wanted her for the whole night. I thought I might have a few more beers and if I was incapable I could at least get my monies worth in the morning. After a little haggle we agreed on a price (AED600 I think).

Now came a bit of a problem. Almost every one in there was wearing casual / jeans, although I was wearing a loose shirt and proper trousers. I had wangled a suite at one of the best hotels in Dubai (tallest hotel in the middle east - and has the same name as an airline - if you know that area of the world) on the 42nd floor and there was no way security would let me use the executive lift with her on my arm in jeans. So I asked her, via the translator of course, if she would mind popping home and getting changed into something slinky - I showed her my room key (which is infact a little model of the hotel with a sensor in the bottom which you just point at the door) and she got the message. After parting with 20AED for her to get a taxi, I settled onto my stool and had another beer and chatted to the Arsenal shirt while I waited.

About 30 mins later she returned and the sea of people parted as this vision of beauty walked across the club in a full length red satin dress, with full make up, hair done, with red matching elbow length gloves and a clutch bag - everyone was watching. "Fuck me" said Arsenal "she rubs up well". She finally reaches me, having a huge grin on his face, kisses me on the cheek and says "Ok?" in rough english. Too right it was. Quickly polish of my pint, high five Arsenal and off we went.

In the taxi back to the hotel she shows me her passport in her bag, to which I shrug and look back quizzically. She sort of gets it across to me that she might need it to get in. I hold her hand, pat it in a sort of 'don't worry, let me sort it out type of way'. We get to the executive lift and security says I can't take her up, I would have to pay a 2nd person supplement if she was going up. I countered saying that we had been to dinner and she was just coming up for tea. I'll explain a bit here - The executive suites have a seperate reception and dinning area (breakfast / nibbles / cocktails etc) so as the big knobs don't have to rub shoulders with the normal riff raff on the 41 floors below, which is cool. He eventually stands aside and lets us in, with me grinning even more.

Arrive at the 42nd floor where the twunt from security had warned the receptionist that I + one was coming for tea only. Now, being the smart guy that I am, I had already spoken to the receptionist before I went out, in fact I asked her to suggest a place to 'find some fun' so she was cool about it. She said that we could have tea in the lounge and that security would be changing shifts in about a hour as would she, who would also turn a blind eye if we happened to re-locate to my suite.

Right on! I peeled that dress off and had her in every room - there were 5 + the walk in wardrobes Fan~fucking~tastic. Then all again in the morning. Best sex ever, bar none!

I had to go to a conference that morning, so I was suited and booted, she, of course, only had the wonderful red dress. It was like a scene out of Pretty Woman when we stepped out of the lift together and walked across the huge foyer to the taxi jockeys. I dropped her off at home and was dreamy for the rest of my trip.

I was flying out to Doha the day after so I have never seen her again. We swapped numbers etc and have been e:mailing each other for the last year - pictures included. She's now given up that type of work and plans to marry an Irish bloke in America this year.

The experience did my head in for many weeks.

Oh, and to top it off, I was able to put it down as expenses!!!

Apologies for length, but she was worth it.
(Thu 19th Jan 2006, 14:52, More)

» Crap meals out

COMPLAIN - You usless twats
Yes, I could go into great length about bad meals I have had out or on a plane - indeed gut wrenching stuff.

However, what makes me more sick is reading all your whinging about bad food. Crap like 'I just ate it', 'didn't want to say anything' or 'looked / tasted horrible'.

Bunch of weak willed twats. The reason we have bad food in this, or any other Country is because we put up with it. If, for once, you made a stand, the rest of us would get better food and better service.

Next time COMPLAIN. If you are not happy take it to the Manager. Still not happy take it to the head office. Still not happy, speak to the local council / paper. They will give in. What have you got to lose?

Fucking sort it.

If all else fails, make her......
(Sat 29th Apr 2006, 0:42, More)

» School Sports Day

Spikes
During my 5th (and final) year at school, I was a pretty good runner and made the final of the 200M.

However, during the heats, two other runners tied, so the teachers decided that they could both run in the final. Bad mistake, as this of course meant that there were not enough lanes for the runners and poor old me pulled the short straw and had to run outside the last lane.

Now, as we were all fit and serious 5th years and running for the County heats we were allowed to wear spikes. See where this is going yet?

Well the 200M final was the most popular for spectators as the 100M was held in the middle of the 400M track so no-one could get close. So most of the school had turned out and was lined up on the final straight with the 1st and 2nd years sitting down at the front, cos they were little.

BANG - like a whippet I was out of the blocks knowing that I had to lead from the front, and the guy on my inside was my best mate and biggest threat for 'gold'. I could hear him thudding just behind and inside left. The track straightens out and I know all I have to do is keep ahead and I would win. We pounded down the last 50M shoulder to shoulder, all I had my eyes on was the finish line and we both dived for it stooping to win. We both 'ran through' as you are supposed to do and slowed down and slapped each other on the back saying well done, with the rest of the runners trailing in our wake. The only thing was that we did not know who had won so we looked round at the finish line teachers who held the tape / stopwatch etc but they had dropped everything and were joining other teachers at the front row of spectators.

It was only when we walked back I found out that I had 'spiked' four 1st years through various parts of their fingers / hands cos the silly twats had been leaning forward to see the race. Oopps! I never felt a thing and I was too busy concentrating on the race.

They put the race down as a dead heat so we both made County, where we were both spanked out of sight.
(Mon 3rd Apr 2006, 8:55, More)

» PE Lessons

Mr Thompson
Was a legend.

There was this one time when in the old year 5, (10 now?) We were in his car being driven back from another school after playing rugby, just after lunchtime, the rest of the team being in assorted other cars behind.

As we got within about 300 meters of our school and he spotted another PE teacher from our school who was walking on the pavement, returning to school. She was the swimming / hockey teacher and rather fit - we knew he was banging her!

He decides to turn off the engine and coast up behind her and give the best arse slap ever. Considering we were doing about 25mph at the time plus his swift ninga type arm movement he must have caught her at about 40 miles an hour! She jumped out of her skin and screamed as he started the engine and we all drove off laughing like a cage full of baboons at feeding time.

Top bloke was Mr T.
(Fri 20th Nov 2009, 9:31, More)

» Guilty Laughs

Wee Hee Wee Hee
I've only started doing this recently, but....

The gf and I had been down at the local, just social drinking with the regulars, but as you get entwined into the bar props sad lives it does make yours sound a bit better.

The pub has two sets of toilets, one at the bar end and one past the pool tables at the other end. The 'cleaner' / local sop had already informed us blokes that the gents at the bar were out of order - and he couldn't a) be arsed to sort them b) would fall over if he got off his stool, so we would have to trudge to the other end of the pub (almost 30m!) to strangle the snake.

The pub was heading towards the usual 'lock in' for us regs and the remaining public were being ushered out of the doors.

The gf needed to powder her nose and I wanted a huge piss to top up the North Sea. I whinged to her that I would have to venture to the 'druggie' bog where the really big spiders held the toilet seat up in a web at least an inch think. She could see my bottom lip trembling at the thought so took my hand and led me into the ladies at the bar end.

Cor!! Carpet! Locks on the doors that worked and loo rolls that had not been pissed on. Brill I thought, a new world.

Sadly only two cubicles, but only one free, as some slouch of the public was in one, but as it was carpeted I could sneak in and share with the gf.

Good god, me thinks as she slips down a microthong. a) Where did that come from b) what's the point?

She starts and I've got the pressure of the Hoover dam straining to be let loose so urge her to 'get a sodding move on'. Bollocks, fucking hurry up!! Right, trousers down, tackle out and wave my mighty weapon at her face in a manner which says 'finish shaking your venus fly trap or get a facefull of hot recycled lager - now (please darling)'. This makes her giggle, but no idea why..... I can't shout at her as whoever was next door would hear, so waggle my man meat more vigorously and slapping her cheek.

This makes her laugh even more and grabs it (with both hands), opens her legs and pulls me down. To stop myself spanging my head on the shelf behind her I have to put both hands out and come to rest at an angle of @45 degrees, knob between her legs. I know what a cow feels like now, being milked.

I cant do anything but let the flow start and we pee together with her holding my todger against her landing strip. The giggles start like a couple of school kids and we can't stop. My stream is like a firehose and it briefly slips out of her hands. 'Ooo' she says, 'right on my clit' which she seems to like, and proceeds to angle it where she wants. I'm in fits of giggles now and my feet start slipping on the carpet (remember the angle) as its already a minute of torential gush on her gash.

Finally the flow ebbs and she let's go, so a quick waggle of the weapon against the inside of her thighs and I'm fit for another few pints. She's ready too so we both fall back into the bar, laughing our tits off. We calm enough to order a round when a mid age woman walks out of the ladies and looks around at who's left in the pub. As my gf is the only other female on the fun side of the bar, she gives her a filthy look, tuts and marches out of the doors. Cue (sorry Hurricane) fits of laughter from the both of us, crying, with the regs looking at us as though we were a couple of loons!!

The gf got a bit 'itchy' a few days afterwards so is off to the clinic today. I still laughed at her.

That'll teach her!
(Mon 26th Jul 2010, 9:21, More)