» My most gullible moment

Well... it involves milk!
Well, whilst at a pissup desperately wanting to get into the pants of a nubile young wench called Amy (Okay, she was ginger, but I thought she was hot) Someone told me that if you drink a pint of milk after evry pint of alcohol it would cancel the effect of the beer/rum/advocat (we where poor!)
Well, after drinking the 12 pints of milk readily avaliable to me I decided to make a move. I was gullibled. Milk just makes you ill and gives you nightmares. I followed her into a dark-ish side room, ignoring the fact she had violently vomited and layed her down on a leather couch.
There are two things you need to know about leather, firstly, it leaves a lovely "grain" print in your arse/face if you sleep on it, and secondly, it retains the smell of bodily fluids for a very, very long time. So, thats my chances of a nice friendly make-out session/recieving oral out the window. Cock, I said. I whipped off her P!ATD hoodie (Im young enough to do this to whiny fangirls, im no garry glitter) and black lacy bra. Well, this is fun, i said to myself. Not hearing the usual cries to take this nipple gargling any further I did the honourable thing and asked... no response... I assumed this was because she was in some considerable ecstacy.
Knowing how crap I was with the female species this should have raised some questions, but no, in my drunken state a silence was as good as a yes. So I unbuttoned her purple skinnys and pulled down her black teenage panties. Cock, i exclaimed again, my condom was in my jacket pocket, and fuck me with an octopus could i find that now in my drunken state.
Well, it looks like I was about to have my first ever experience of giving oral. Lucky me. Of course, i had read the FAQ's, and watched the movies, but I had bugger all chance of remembering it now. Then i woke up. My face pressed to a ginger teenagers vagina.
Yay me! I look around, and COCK, if it isn't Anthonys mum. (well, i was hardly going to use my house, but thank fuck it wasnt hers) "What the fuck have you been up to?" She said, looking at the empty cartons of milk, advocat and strongow littering the floor. FUCK, i said, and ran for my life, face still smelling of horny teenage girl.
Sitting on that sofa next day I was informed of many things. One of these was that I had left the door open. COCK, so everyone had seen me performing drunken oral to a girl at 90 degrees to me. Secondly, she had passed out before I had even unbuttonned her skinnys. Lastly, some drunken mong called Joe had walked in, sat down, and promptly filmed the entire thing. And the sofa still smelled of "amy" for months afterwards.
And thats the story of how i wrecked my chances with my first crush.

Edited for kind people who commented on my work.

And length, fuck me if she found out, she was unconcious.
(Fri 22nd Aug 2008, 9:44, More)

» Cringe!

Two! Although looking at the subject of this QOTW that's nothing to be proud of :(
As i am still a mini-b3tan, i am studying for my GCSE's. As they are now rather close and, thanks to the wonders of b3ta i have done no work at all for the past few years this week has been spent studying German and writing filthy songs. Strangely this story involves the former:

Yesterday, a fine tuesday if there ever was one, i took a break from my labourious studies and went down to the local one stop to purchase some jaffacakes. Having chosen the 99 pence one-stop variety I went to the counter and excanged my shiny currency for the orange-and-chocolatey goods. "Danke schoon", I grinned merrily. My face dropped as I realised I had bought my jaffacakes in...
German.
Thats not the horrible faux pas though. I looked at the till-girl.


She was polish.

I should be banned from one-stop.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

And if thats not enough, the second forks pass of the day:

I was happily texting my rather lovely girlfriend, when i realised i needed some good solid advice from my older namesake (yes, my best friend does relly share my name!). the text went something like this:

"Hey mate, how are ya?
Dont wish to bother you
but after an intense
session of finger
related fun with Miss
Name I wondered if you
how to get the smell
of catholic vagina off
of your hands, as I use
public transport. "

sent to none other than the lovely Miss Name. Its a miracle We're still together.

Length isnt an issue. I have big hands.
(Wed 3rd Dec 2008, 18:14, More)

» Will you go out with me?

Why im not allowed out in public
Quite simple really, after a bit of dutch courage before and during that fateful schoolday I went up to the girl of my dreams and said "Go out with me, its the right thing to do." It got me nowhere, and it got me there damn fast. (not quite true, i did move an inch or so backwards after she slapped me)
So, my advice for asking out the potential love of your life? If it worked on scrubs, dont even think about it.
(Thu 28th Aug 2008, 20:18, More)

» School Days

B3ta got me into trouble (almost)
Well, I have spent a long time trying to think of something amusing for this QOTW, and failed. So here is the sorry tale of how b3ta got me into trouble (almost). As I am still enjoying the farce that is catholic education, this sorry story takes place just mere months ago.


It doesn't really deserve squiggly lines, it was mere months ago...


As a young sprog I was gifted with higher than average intelegence (not as easy as the daily mail would have you believe) and well practiced in the art of cheating (and not getting caught) I am in a high achieving maths class, and this story takes place in just that lesson, in a cold, harsh decembers day, nearing the season of goodwill.

It was common practice for the teachers pets, and those failing class, to pen a festive goodwill to the teacher (and maybe a bottle of his favourite tipple to boost your mark just a little higher)these would then be displayed on a large grey filing cabinet.

Annoyed at such a blatant display of suck-up-ery I recalled a gem from the ever-popular christmas card image challenge. Using my spare pen (different colour, I am gifted remember)I scrawl "The Credit's Crunching, Times Are Hard, Here's Your Fucking Christmas Card" on a spare piece of graph paper, folded landscape. Quickly signing it "To Mr.Poncytits (may not be real name) Merry Chrimbo, From yr. 11"

I passed it to my friend who sat on the row behing me. Oh how we chuckled. I was a comedy genius.

All was well, I laughed, he laughed. Then he passed it to popular kid. Popular kid lauged. I was in with the comedy ELITE. But then my heart sinks. The offending artcicle is passed around the class. Everyone has a mighty chuckle at the b3ta inspired masterpiece until *Oh CRAP* the card is in possesion of none other than sir himself. He reads the front. *I quiver slightly* His hairy, mathematical brow creases *Im posivively shitting myself* And he lets out a supressed laugh. I'm in the clear! I thought, as he opens the card. His tiny, maths teacher brain tries to process the message inside. It can only be a carefully crafted insult, he thinks.

"The person who wrote THIS" He says with distain as all the muscles in my anus contract to a diamond-forming intensity, "Shall be sent to Mr.Evil-head-of-year" My heart sank to the deep, dark recesses of my size elevens (Im not tall, I just have clown feet)

Time passes by, I have ten minuites until the bell rings, no-one has said my name, but if I don't own up I know there will be a whole class interogation, and I will be universally hated, and most likely found out. It is the time for ten-munuite-trivia at the end of the day, and the coming clean period is dissapearing fast. Until...

"NAME! Who is the current mayor of London?" A tiny, balls-in-vice squeak eminates from my voicebox, a variation on the usual post-pubescent baritone "BorrisJohnson, and... well... iwrotethehorriblyoffensivechristmascard." Sir looks stunned (I generally try to hide from teachers my past experieces with class C drugs, mild alcoholism and lewd conversations about ejaculating on my own face in a soundproof music room full of girls)

He approached me afterwards, and described my punishment (an after-school on the last day of term) whilst trying to stifle a blatant giggling fit. Using my wit and charm*, I had managed to convince him of the innocent nature of the card. Never did turn up to that detention, and my crime was never mentioned again (Until the first day back, when I foolishly dyed my black Tom Baker noggin-pubes bright blonde)


And that, fellow b3tans, is how you, collectively, got me into trouble. I hope you are pleased.

*Wit and charm not guarenteed to be prevalent in this post

Apologies for length, but i'll save the cock gags for the one where I ejaculate onto my face.
(Mon 2nd Feb 2009, 23:13, More)