12-5 Panties for sale - Sex Stories

12-5 Panties for sale

... to push the girls into the tub. That got them a spanking. I put my thinking cap on for his punishment.

In the end I decided on this. There was an Irish comedian called Spike Milligan and he wrote many books, including 7 containing his war memoirs. They are hysterically funny (but also sad and deeply moving at times, as it's when he started his spiral into deep and severe psychiatric problems which affected him for the rest of life). I don't usually laugh out loud when I read, but in his case I learned not to take them on public transport cos I found people were staring at me - and then I realised I had disturbed their peace with my loud cackling.

The army boys played many practical jokes on each other, but this was my favourite. They used to make fake 'Richard the Thirds' and leave them in their victim's beds.

Richard the Third is London Rhyming Slang for 'turd'.

It's easy. You take old-fashioned brown wrapping paper, soak it in water, fashion it into a shit log of desired length, make it smooth or gnarly according to your mood, and insert it under your enemy's covers. Not only is there an element of surprise as at first glance it looks very realistic, but the 'oh fucking hell' factor as they realise the bed is now too wet to sleep in.

I left a note for Sven saying: Richard the Third bids you goodnight and asks you do not try to throw the girls in the tub again.

The next morning, Sven brought his fake brown friend on a paper plate into breakfast and the ...

... three girls freaked out as he touched it and pretended to eat it. Even deputy Sassmeister Sandy was fooled by it, which gave me a huge amount of satisfaction.

It took a long while for him to understand the Richard the Third connection. He thought he was the patron saint of poop, or something like that. Even when I explained other language examples (apples and pears, jam jar, butcher's hook, trouble and strife, etc.) he just looked more confused.

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So Sal reopened her mum's old website (with her permission) saying she was bored with dressmaking, but this was just a stopgap until something else appeared. Her dad offered to finance her setting up in their new city as his research told him there was really nothing like ASS there. She thanked him and said I love you dad, but neither she nor Arnold wanted to move.

Her mum said she would send her her used ones (very thick mucus) and she still had contacts from the old days of people who would contribute, for a percentage of the selling price.

She and Zeta started bagging up and sealing hermetically (so the nice smells didn't escape) all the ones they had. On their periods, they didn't wear pads or tampons and just leaked blood into their underwear, changing often. They pissed into them, farted into them, deliberately skidmarked them and by leaving them on for days, they got a nice coating of vaginal discharge. Sometimes they used good quality underwear, otherwise pound shop ones, but the price of the 'basic raw ...