' June And Daphne '

THE WANKER'S BEST FRIEND IS PERHAPS THE SHAG-MAG. OF ALL THE MYRIAD PUBLICATIONS 'ESCORT' WAS MY FAVOURITE. IT WAS CHEAP AND HAD LOTS OF WOMEN WHO COULD HAVE BEEN YOUR NEIGHBOUR OR YOU MIGHT HAVE HAD A CHANCE WITH! PLUS, THERE WAS AUNTIE JAYNE'S ADVICE COLUMN. I'D BE OUT FOR THE NIGHT AND GUYS WOULD BE SAYING "DID YOU SEE THE MATCH ON WEDNESDAY" I'D BE SAYING TO RODNEY "DID YOU SEE WHAT AUNTIE JAYNE SAID TO THE SAD BASTARD WHO SHAGGED WASHING MACHINES". "YEAH" SAYS RODNEY "I TRIED IT MYSELF. NEARLY TOOK THE DICK OFF ME".
WE ALL HAD OUR FAVOURITE GIRLS - ESPECIALLY THE REGULARS. IT WAS GOOD TO TO FORM A ONE-WAY RELATIONSHIP WITH SOME OF THEM, THOUGH I GENERALLY DRIFTED FROM ONE TO ANOTHER WITH UNFAITHFULL REGULARITY. I DIDN'T LIKE IT WHEN THEY POPPED UP IN OTHER MAGS WITH DIFFERENT NAMES AND FUNNY WIGS. TWO WOMEN DID, HOWEVER, STAND OUT. JUNE SANDS AND DAPHNE HUGEGLANDS - WANKTASTIC. DESPITE THEIR COMPLETELY CONTRASTING SHAPES AND LOOKS, THEY HAD ONE THING IN COMMON. BOTH HAD REALLY DIRTY GLINTS IN THEIR EYES. I KNOW THAT MAKES ME A BIT OF A ROMANTIC, BUT I WAS YOUNG AT THE TIME.
MY BED USED TO ROCK LIKE AN EXORCISM WHEN DAPHNE (WHO SEEMED TO BE MORE INTO ME) AND JUNE WERE MOLESTING MY THOUGHTS. RODNEY HAD A THING FOR DAPHNE TOO, BUT I PUT HIM OFF HER. TOLD HIM THAT SHE LOOKED LIKE HIS MUM, WHICH, SHE DID IN A 'MOTHER THERESA' LOOKS LIKE A WALNUT KIND OF WAY. THE THING WAS, YOU JUST WEREN'T ALLOWED TO SHARE YOUR FAVOURITES.
I USED TO WAKE UP AND FIND MYSELF CALLING OUT THEIR NAMES. THE LAD WAS ALWAYS TO ATTENTION. I'D HAVE TO FINISH IT OFF AND RUB MY BELLY ON THE SHEET BEFORE I COULD GET BACK TO SLEEP. WHEN MY MUM MADE PLAYFUL REFERENCES TO THEM. I NEARLY SHIT MYSELF. IT WAS ONLY WITH THE PASSING OF TIME THAT I REALISED SHE'D HEARD ME DURING MY SLEEP, AND THOUGHT THESE WERE NICE GIRLS FROM SCHOOL. "THERE'S OUR STANLEY. NOT BE LONG NOW 'TIL HE'S COURTIN' SADLY, THAT PUT ME OFF THEM. THEY DIDN'T SHOW THE PINK ANYWAY. SO, FUCK 'EM.

' Mile High ' (selections from my book of 100 Best Wanks, in quest for publisher of same)

ONE DAY I READ AN ARTICLE ABOUT 'THE MILE HIGH CLUB' VARIOUS TESTIMONIES FROM COUPLES DESCRIBED HOW THROUGHLY EXCITING AND ORGASMIC A JOINT VISIT TO THE AEROPLANE BOG COULD BE. I'D BEEN ON A PLANE TWICE BEFORE, BUT IT HAD NEVER, TO MY ETERNAL SHAME OCCURRED TO ME TO HAVE ONE IN THE TOILET. AS I WAS READING ABOUT THESE SUPERSONIC COUPLES, THE SHEER THOUGHT OF JET-JERKING WAS SENDING TINGLES ALL OVER ME, AND BEFORE I KNEW WHAT I DON'T KNOW THE OLD WETNESS WAS ON THE PANTS. BRING ON THE NEXT FLIGHT.
AS I HAPPENED, THIS WASN'T FOR ANOTHER TWO YEARS NOT MUCH OF A SKY TRAVELLER IN THOSE DAYS THE THOUGHT HADN'T CROSSED MY MIND TOO MUCH UNTIL THE FLIGHT WAS BOOKED SIX WEEKS PRIOR TO DEPARTURE. WHAT A GLORIOUS RE-AWAKENING OF SUBLIME ANTICIPATION. MOST OF MY WANKS WERE ABOUT HAVING ONE ON THE PLANE - THE OLD 'WANK ABOUT A WANK' SYNDROME. THE NIGHT BEFORE TRAVEL I WAS A SPENT FORCE. MUST HAVE HAD ABOUT SIX OR SEVEN IN THE SPACE OF THREE HOURS. IT DID, EVENTUALLY, HELP ME SLEEP.
NEXT DAY AND HERE WE GO. THE PLANE WAS IN THE AIR FOR ABOUT TEN MINUTES. THE STUPID SEATBELT SIGNS WERE STILL ON HOW UNREASONABLE. OUT THEY WENT AND FIVE OR SIX PEOPLE GOT UP TO GO TO THE TOILET. 'WANKERS' I THOUGHT. I TRIED TO READ A NEWSPAPER, BUT IT MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN IN ARABIC. I DECIDED TO WAIT QUITE A WHILE. DIDN'T WANT SOMEONE QUEUING BEHIND ME. KNEW THEY'D BE THINKING 'TOO LONG FOR A PISS, AND UNLESS IT'S CONSTIPATION, MUST BE A WANKER'. EVENTUALLY, I MADE MY WAY UP THE AISLE, TELLING MYSELF NOT TO LEAVE THE TOILET WITH A 'JUST HAD ONE' FACE.
THE FIRST THING THAT STRUCK ME WAS THE SHEER ORDINARINESS OF THE CUBICLE. A 007 WANK-MOBILE IT WASN'T. UNFORTUNATELY, THERE WAS NO TURBULENCE. IT JUST FELT LIKE AN INCREDIBLY RESTRICTED PISS-POD. I TRIED AND TRIED TO GENERATE SOME IN-FLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT. I EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT SEX. IT GOT TO THE STAGE WHERE I JUST NEEDED TO GET IT OVER. IT BECAME EXTREMELY VIGOUROUS AND MADE SOMEWHAT UNPLEASANT BY THE THOUGHT OF THIRTY PEOPLE QUEUING OUTSIDE. AT LAST. QUICK WIPE-UP AND A WALK DOWN THE AISLE WITH THE BEST 'POST-CONSTIPATION' FACE I COULD MUSTER IN THE BITTERLY DISAPPOINTING CIRCUMSTANCES. NEVER AGAIN, UNTIL THE NEXT TIME.

' School Toilet '

BY THE TIME I WAS REACHING MY FOURTEENTH BIRTHDAY I HAD BECOME QUITE A PRODIGIOUS WANKER. I FOUND IT DIFFICULT NOT TO THINK ABOUT MY NEXT ONE WHILST ENDURING TURGID CLASSES IN SCHOOL. MY HAND WOULD OFTEN WANDER IT'S WAY TO MY POCKET FOR AN OCCAISIONAL FIDDLE. JUST A BIT OF TEASING. CHARLES I WAS GETTING HIS HEAD CHOPPED OFF. COAL WAS STILL BIG IN NEWCASTLE. THE SQUARE ROOT OF 169 WAS A PRIME NUMBER. MY KNOB WAS GAGGING FOR IT. IT HAD TO BE THE SCHOOL TOILETS AT THE NEXT BREAK.
FORTUNATELY, MOST OF THE PUPILS WERE PREOCCUPIED WITH A GOBBING COMPETITION (I LIKE TO PLAY IT MYSELF). WHOEVER GOT THE BIGGEST, GREENEST, BROWNEST, GOOEYEST PIECE OF PHLEGM TO HANG FROM THE CEILING WOULD WIN. I SNEAKED IN, SEEMINGLY UNOBTRUSIVELY, TO A CUBICLE. CLEARED ALL THE PISS AND GOB AND CRISPS OFF THE SEAT. SAT DOWN AND PREPARED FOR ACTION. I WAS CURIOUSLY COCOONED IN MY OWN LITTLE WANK-WORLD, COMMENTS LIKE "YOU'RE CHEATING. THAT'S A CHOCLATELY ONE" JUST WAFTED OVER ME.
SOME OF THE LADS WERE A BIT OLDER AND WISER, AND HAD REALISED 'WHAT SORT OF SPAZ HAS A DUMP IN THESE BOGS?' THE REALLY SAD THING WAS THAT I WAS GIVING IT LOADS. MY HEAD WAS GIVING A FEW SHUDDERS. TWO OF THEM HAD CLIMBED ONTO THE ADJACENT CUBICLE SEATS. ONE OF THEM COULD CLEARLY NOT BITE HIS LIP ANY LONGER. HE ERUPTED WITH LAUGHTER. THEN, THE WHOLE BOGS LET RIP IN THE SINGLE MOST EMBARRASING EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFE. THE TWO BIGGER LADS, IN PARTICULAR, WOULD SCREW THEIR FACES UP AND JERK THEIR HANDS EACH TIME THEY SAW ME FOR YEARS TO COME. I'M PRETTY SURE THE GIRLS IN CLASS KNEW TOO. SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE PATHETIC SHAKE OF THEIR HEADS!
THE ODD THING IS MY PASSION FOR SELF-PLEASURE REMAINED UNDIMMED, NEVER DID ONE IN THE SCHOOL BOGS AGAIN THOUGH.

' Tent '

ON A PARTICULARLY WANK-FILLED SPREE OF A HOLIDAY ALONG THE WEST COAST OF SCOTLAND I EXPERIENCED, FOR THE FIRST TIME, ONE OF RODNEY'S OFT REPEATED REMARKS AS WE IDLED AWAY A WET AND WINDY MORNING IN OUR RAIN-SODDEN TENT. THE NIGHT BEFORE HAD BEEN MOST PROFITABLE AS FAR AS VISUAL MATERIAL WAS CONCERNED. IT WAS ALL THERE, FROM SHORT SKIRTS TO GOOD LOOKS EVEN. ENOUGH TO KEEP YOU GOING FOR THE WHOLE HOLIDAY. MANAGED TO GET SO SLAUGHTERED THE NIGHT BEFORE THAT A WANK-CAP WAS BEYOND BOTH OF US.
HAVING MISSED MY BEDTIME PLEASURE, I WOKE WITH A SLUMBERING DESIRE. STILL HUNGOVER, I CONTEMPLATED THE NATURE AND STRUCTURE OF MY WANK. IT WAS GENERALLY WELL PLANNED OUT WITH THE USUAL DEVIATIONS TAKEN INTO CONSIDERATION, I STARTED OFF VERY SLOWLY. QUICK CHECK TO SEE IF RODNEY'S STILL ASLEEP.
THE HAND DEFINITELY BELONGS TO INGE - THE ICELANDIC CHICK WHO WAS HEADING FOR THE HIGHLANDS. AS SHE IS APPRECIATING THE INCREASING ENORMITY OF MY WEAPON MY LEFT HAND INDEX FINGER, NATURALLY ENOUGH, WORKS ITS' WAY TOWARDS MY EVER INVITING ANUS, WOW....THIS IS A GOOD ONE. DON'T SQUEEZE TOO MUCH ON THE OLD INDEX. NICE AND EASY. THIS IS GONNA BE A SLOWLY ERUPTING VOLCANO (IN ICELAND) THE LEGS ARE BEGINNING TO WOBBLE A BIT. CALM DOWN. DON'T WAKE RODNEY.
"OH YEAH, YOU CAN TAKE IT INGE" THE STROKES INCREASE WITH AN ALMOST PREORDAINED INTENSITY. "HOW'S YOUR MUM KEEPING" ASKS RODNEY.