It’s only taught in the independent sector. State school pupils are told to hose each other down with disinfectant and then get back to work.
4 Likes
I ‘heard’ that if you use your wrong hand, it feels like someone else is doing it to you.
3 Likes
Like your mum when you was a baby?
3 Likes
Yeah, I suppose I did.
Why do you ask?
Just getting a mental image. Nothing for you to worry about.
Did you not like your mum when you was a baby?
My smart phone addiction is getting out of hand. I can’t put it down, even when I’m doing a piss nowadays. The problem is if you undo the clasp on your jeans there’s no way to hold your todger and your phone at the same time without dropping your pants completely around your ankles. So I compromise, by not undoing the clasp and belt and by pulling the trousers down just over my buttocks. The trousers stay mostly up by themselves then, and I can happily piss away with the phone in one hand and my maggot in the other. There are two problems though.
-
I am destroying all my clasps and belts by dragging the trousers over my child bearing hips.
-
its turned into a habit and I’ve inadvertently started pissing in public toilets like this, exposing my buttocks at the urinals to anyone lucky enough to share the moment with me.
I forgot 3) draining off is nowhere near as effective one handed, so I’m quite regularly finishing the last squirts of my piss off in my pants.
10 Likes
gd post. Have you tried using the fly? I wouldn’t do it myself, I stopped putting my knob between metal teeth after the incident with Goldie in 1996, but you could give it a Try.
4 Likes
Yeah for some reason flys one handed doesn’t work for me. Usually with fly’s I use one hand to direct and the other to hold aside the underwear. Without the hand to hold the underwear away from the shaft there is an even more significant risk of fluid rentention within the pipework. Plus ive inexplicably had the scenario before where the fabric has moved to interupt the stream mid piss and there’s not a lot you can do in that situation.
1 Like
I’ve just decided to go full time catheter. Makes using the phone much easier.
2 Likes
Problem solved. No one would bat an eyelid if they saw you at the urinal:
By the way, I use one of these but still pull my trousers and pants down to my ankles.
4 Likes
What I do is pop my balls up over the elastic waistband of my underpants. This does enable pretty gd hands free urination, but downside as you say is it holds back some stream, so I usually piss myself when I tuck my gear back in. But it’s a small price to pay.
1 Like
It would also help when you are shit faced and feel the urge to lean against the wall .
I don’t bother with the toilet and just piss myself. Guaranteed a space at the bar or a seat on the train. Particularly in hot weather…
What I do is pop my balls up over the elastic waistband of my underpants. This does enable pretty gd hands free urination, but downside as you say is it holds back some stream, so I usually piss myself when I tuck my gear back in. But it’s a small price to pay.
The problem with my balls is that they have a tendancy to retreat inwards on me in situations like that (see rubber cockrings also), twang! the elastic pings, your dick bucks in your hand and you’ve suddenly got piss down your front and on your shoes again.
Bit of a drama in this department today. Here is my tale of poo.
Met up with some friends and the kids in the botanic gardens. Chasing the kids round the park when suddenly overcome with the urge to evacuate. Make my excuses and mince across the gardens to the nearby shopping centre where I know there’s a public toilet. When I get there, there’s no toilet paper and the cubicle lock is busted. The terror level in my pants is not quite critical so I make the executive decision to try a different toilet nearby.
There’s an ice cream parlour round the corner which has a toilet for customers but they ask non customers to pay €0.5. As i work my way across the room with the eyes of the waiting staff watching me I struggle internally with both the wrenching of my guts and the fear of being confronted and straight out accused of not being a customer. Fortunately there is not challenge.
Engage their only cubicle for a good 15 minutes as I piss my guts out my arse. And ashamedly return to the parlour with the same eyes watching me. A combination of shame and gratefulness (and gluttony) compels me to make things right with the establishment by purchasing their delicious wares. I determine that a single scoop is probably a bit on the cheap side and unbefitting for a man of my means who is truly grateful for them on this day, so I push the boat out and purchase 2 scoops (stracietella and dark chocolate). I return to the park with my ice cream, passing a homeless person on the way holding a sign saying how hungry he is. I don’t make eye contact and ignore him when he speaks to me.
I eat a little bit on the way but as I approach my group again most of my ice cream is still intact. The ice cream is immediately clocked by about 4 kids in our group. They approach me with little sad faces. I share my ice cream with them (we all share a spoon) and in doing so probably share traces of my gut flora as well.
5 minutes later my guts start to feel bad again. This time even stronger than before. I leave the group without saying anything. I start to panic. I feel like I can’t go back to the ice cream parlour again. It would be too weird. Luckily I find a restaurant which looked like it had just opened for the evening. Run across the road infront of a bus to get to the door before i burst. The chef was having a last fag outside before the diners started arriving. I was effectively their first customer. Didn’t say a word to him. Rushed past him found the toilets. Awkwardly they were right next to where the chef was having his fag and the window separating me and him was wide open. I was expecting this particular performance to be LOUD, so i struggled with the window for a few seconds in order to get it closed, probably to the bemusement of the chef. The lost seconds had brought me to critical state, I did’nt have long. I yanked my trousers and pants down and collapsed onto the toilet seat. C-R-A-C-K-! A chunk of the seat broke right off and the remainder of the seat jabbed me in the bum cheek. In that moment that was of no concern to me however, as once again I drained my acids and gases into the toilet bowel.
I browsed this very forum for the next few minutes as I considered what my next move should be. Should I own up to the damage? How do I explain that I dont want to eat their food, I just wanted to break their toilet? Should I buy a meal at the restaurant, a drink? How much is this going to cost me? Do restaurants carry spare toilet seats in storage for occassions such as this? Is it possible that the restaurant would need to close for the evening on account of some kind of obscure health and safety rule? Does my third party liability insurance cover such events? After contemplating, wiping and standing up, I examined the damage. It turned out that I was able to piece the seat together again such that the chunk held in position. The only evidence of the break being a couple of hairline cracks which were not noticible except on close inspection. The next person to sit on the seat would definitely break it again. It’s possible this was actually how the seat was when I first arrived. That was how I justified leaving the restaurant at that point without saying a word to the proprieters.
I returned once more to my group in the park. I have suffered no further pangs except those of my concience. As we said our goodbyes I refused to shake hands with and hug the members of my group. I did not explain why. It was awkward.
All in all it was a successful day though. I didn’t shit myself and despite all my struggles and obstacles I didn’t get any shit on my balls.
13 Likes
This is why we should charge for this site pap.
6 Likes
Magnificent post there, SWDP. A truly insightful account of the human condition. Details aside, we’ve all been there one way or another.
2 Likes
I think we all know who that homeless begger was and why it was you had to make a second visit, in awkward circumstances to the emergency dumping station.
Jesus has exacted his own form of Karma…think carefully when you purchase out of guilt and pass-up the chance lighten a less-fortunate’s day.
Sharing with those who covet but don’t need is not mitigation.
2 Likes