You guys have so many fun stories, let's tell some itt. To start:
Tell everyone on ILX about that time you accidentally met your one-night-stand's parents
― Natalie Portmanteau (Stevie D(eux)), Thursday, 28 June 2012 21:29 (thirteen years ago)
took so much ketamine you thought you were a dog?
― I wish to incorporate disco into my small business (chap), Friday, 29 June 2012 00:02 (thirteen years ago)
Walking through the doorway half naked - to dad: "Ello", nod, nothing else said. Oo eck.
Sorry, that's a terribly crap story
― Scary Move 4 (dog latin), Friday, 29 June 2012 00:42 (thirteen years ago)
We met at a bowling alley in Chipping Ongar and got on like the proverbial incendiary residence. She was there with her parents, but made some excuse and ducked out early, leading me by the proboscis and other protuberances to the family home, a demi-thatched semi not far off. Her parents would keep bowling for at least an hour, she assured me, giving us ample time for a slow quickie.
She knew them well; it wasn't relatives but my bladder which interrupted us. Not knowing the house, I began to ask about its geography, but she cut me off.
"Don't leave me now, just pee in this!" she whispered. It was an empty bottle of Robinson's Fruit Shoot Juice.
Politely, I complied. She screwed the top back onto the bottle - which still looked innocent enough despite its new contents - and we resumed our congress. It culminated in juddering mutual satisfaction, so at the door she made me promise to return to the bowling alley the following day at the same hour. When I got there I couldn't see her anywhere. Well, I'd have to go upstairs; she was well worth the bowling shoe rental fee. Just as I was pulling the shoes on in the locker room, in walked her father.
"Oh hello... you!" he said (he'd clearly forgotten my name). "The lure of tenpin alley, eh?" I was about to attempt some jocular rejoinder when I noticed with a fizz of horror that he was unscrewing the top of a bottle of Robinson's Fruit Shoot Juice.
"Actually I've just finished," I said, and pushed past the dignified balding gentleman just as he was throwing back his head to neck a deep quaff of the tepid yellow liquid. Still wearing the bowling shoes, I sprinted to Ongar station. I've never been back since.
― Grampsy, Friday, 29 June 2012 02:59 (thirteen years ago)