Archive for the ‘tits’ Tag

Looking forward   11 comments

ometepeThere are a few moments in life I’ve skipped past while sharing my life. Either because it’s too similar to something previous that’s been mentioned like the time I wiped my ass on the bathroom towel and then hung it back up on the rack. Got in shit for that, pardon the pun. –I was four!-

College moments I just couldn’t squeeze in like the time I handed an essay mostly covering the topic of masturbation and a book report on Humpty Dumpty. I wasn’t there the day my teacher received this news from the exam board, but I heard he wanted to slap me for that. Still got the chance to do it again and I’m sure it’s probably out there doing the rounds as an example of what not to do if you want to pass Core 2 English.

Or simply because there is nothing really funny about having to wear a jumper on Christmas Day to hide the bruising left behind from a needles puncture wound.

And so, after thinking long and hard about whether it’s a good idea to bring out possibly the ugliest of all skeletons from my closet as I know what a touchy subject this can be.. I think, fuck it. This is my story, my life and if it wasn’t for this pretty harrowing series of events then I’d still be a virgin.

Write your complaints on a postcard and then stick it up your arse!

. . .

It was around my 18th birthday, year 2000 I believe and I succeeded in bringing one larger than life drunk chick back to my bed. Trouble is I was pretty wasted myself.

Five minutes in and I’m on my way down stairs to the toilet after throwing up on her tits and I can’t really say I’m completely surprised or bothered when I return to find she’s no longer there. However, one thing hangs heavy on my mind. That was my first sexual experience and I fucked it up. How to recover? Fret not, for I have a plan!

As my bus draws closer to my planned destination my stomach turns to nerves. “What if this doesn’t work? What if I’m not right down there”? I know just the thing for this kind of nonsense. The cause and solution to all life’s problems: Beer.

Not just beer but whisky as it would become. I fill up on Dutch courage before strutting into the massage parlour where young Casanova here plans to make up for lost time, but would you believe? I’m too drunk and I can’t get it up! Not only that embarrassment but I also left my glasses there and have to trot back and get them. I return home a disgrace to mankind and completely in turmoil. But I’m not done yet.

The waiting game.

This time I go almost a week without ‘relief’ which to an 18 year old is deserving of a fucking medal but a dead cert not to fail. A strong wind could empty my balls this time but just to make sure I decide on a change of venue for this time around.

Sitting sober as a monkey in this horrible little room wearing nothing but a small towel around my waist, I’m asked to choose between three scabby, junky hags. Just then and angel appears in the form of a foreign, chicken eating angel in the midst of her lunch and wandering into my line of sight at exactly the wrong moment.

You!

Paying for one hour and only really needing three minutes –hey, I was 18- but I’m in the clear now as I now know that everything working and hearing words like “You strong like bull” really does give me some encouragement. She really said that!

I decide to return to this naughty little maid, just to make sure, only to be given the most noisy bed on Gods Earth putting us both off more than a little not to mention a kids voice on the other side of the door shouting “Dad”! Who the fuck brings their kids here?!

. . .

With the years clocking up towards that milestone of 30, I find myself looking back at the big picture. I never once ticked any of those boxes that some regard as the checklist of life..

Education (didn’t go to college to learn!)

Career

Wife

Children

Mortgage

Pension plan.

And that’s exactly why I’ve been really able to live life, at least in a way that works for me anyway. Who wants to be the richest man in the graveyard? Who wants a life time of tip-toeing around and bending over backwards to be just another baw hair on the baw bag? Fuck that. If I stumble across an idea for something, maybe a project or just an adventure, then I’ll save the money and do it. Sure I’ll listen to advice because not every idea is a good one but not once have I ever regretted where I’ve ended up. It’s been such a fucked up, crazy adventure and it’s not over by a long shot. In-fact, I’d say it’s only just begun.

On my last little adventure before turning 30, I spoke with a very interesting girl who really woke me up. I learned that my jokes and stories are sometimes not enough and it’s too easy to just hide behind them all never really showing the real you. For probably the first time in my life I actually managed to just let go and say what was on my mind. It wasn’t easy but I learned a lot right there and then. So I will be me from now on regardless of how hot someone is or how much I care for them. The laughs will still come and the madness continue but on a higher, much better level now that we’re done with the act and to be honest.. I never much cared for being the clown.

To whatever awaits around that next corner I’ll take it on with a new found stride.

Time to grow up?

Fuck no!laguna

Remember, I’m not always proud of what I’ve done. Just honest about it.

Posted November 30, 2012 by andysalwaysright in Uncategorized

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Costa Rica Part 5 Beach bum   Leave a comment

Costa Rica was a great place for interesting first times. My first time being in a shopping mall held up by gun men. First time having a pistol pointed at my head for fun (separate occasion). Throwing sticks at crocodiles, poking snakes, running with bulls, throwing myself into shallow waterfalls and reaching my highest peak at 3880 meters on Mt Chirripo where I climbed my last 400 at 3am, rediscovering a small fear of heights as I set foot on the top.

On the way up a mountain

Others who have scaled this same mountain might wonder at how the fuck I managed to get lost on my way back when there is only one path all the way down. My answer is this.

There is one other path at the very last km and with a fifty per cent chance of getting it right I followed my gut instinct and jogged on with my Danish friend Krispy Kris to the wrong side of the mountain (hats off to a man who scaled an almost four thousand meter mountain with a suitcase full of books!). Our victory beer would have to wait as we made our mad dash towards the last bus of the day, making it just in time.

Ocean must remember me cause it’s giving a big wave.. Sorry!

One weekend on a world renowned beach would set the scene for one of my favourite first times.

. . .

Lifting myself back onto the board, I claw my way through the water towards the barrelling waves of Dominical.

The back of my legs are stinging in the blistering heat on the Pacific Coast in Costa Rica even after two bottles of sun-cream, but my first couple of days surfing have been a success and I ride in standing tall (kind of) on almost every wave loving every minute.

A brief calm gives myself and Jack the chance to paddle out further in search of the big one, but in the end it’s a big one that finds me.

It came out of nowhere, crashing on top of me like a twenty foot wall, slamming and tossing my body like a rag doll completely at the mercy of the Oceans wrath. My legs tangle in the elastic cable strapped from my ankle to the surfboard as I start to rise only to be smashed back down by the next big wave.

I grab my T-shirt as it’s pulled over my head in the strong under-current, but there’s nothing I can do about my Hasselhoff red shorts that fly out to sea as I perform perfect, underwater somersaults at break-neck speed. Freeing my legs I climb back onto my board, naked as the day I was born.

I frantically paddle towards the coast wishing to avoid the next battering the Ocean has to offer, but I’m heading straight for a busy, family filled beach with my dong out and my white ass for all to see.

So many sharp stones lie in the shallows of the water and I’m cruelly dragged across them all by more waves as I try desperately to protect and hide my willy while Life-guards laugh and parents bring their kids to watch. Jacks laughing so hard he doesn’t see the giant wave that drives his surfboard into his face giving him a Botox lip. Fucking good karma!

My leg is still attached to the board and I see a red object floating in the water between us. It’s my shorts. They got caught in the elastic cable and by quickly un-strapping my ankle I’m able to slip back into them before further damage is caused.

Later that day as I reminisce, telling my story to some fit surfer girls from Germany and Holland, I find myself asking about their tits. Just if there chest got as red as mine while on the board. I don’t know why, but I do have a tendency to say the wrong thing from time to time, or most of the time. I’m harmless enough so they don’t beat me.

Can never have too many surf photos..Dude..

Idols and lesbians   2 comments

Just the ticket.. Lets roll that carpet!

My experience in Poland would serve to fuel an ever growing appetite for travel and adventure and on waking every morning with new plans to conquer the world it was clear to me now that Scotland was not the place to be.

Having given up -again- on my search for the future Mrs Ritchie I was set to live a care-free life doing what I want when I want without the hassle of some self-righteous bitch telling me how I’m doing this wrong and shouldn’t be saying that. However, too many nights spent contemplating life’s next move over a beer at my local would lead my wandering eyes towards a cute, young barmaid I could swear was the perfect spouse. Unfortunately just one fateful gig in Glasgow would bring my advances to a shattering halt.

. . .

Leaving the madness of the Glasgow Barrowlands concert venue I skip next door and take up a seat in the Baird’s Bar Celtic Supporters Club. Drowning in accusations of being Bulgarian due to the coloured ties in my long beard, I give in and reel of a stream of swear words I learnt on a building site passing them of as the basic “Hello, how are you, my name is”…

Stepping outside I spark a cigarette and nod my hello’s towards a couple of young lady’s walking by. They stop, pull at my beard and ask me questions about the band that had played earlier and deciding they want into the after-show party we take up positions beside a dozen groupies waiting expectantly outside Machine Heads tour bus.

Around two fights and thirty minutes later the tall, blond mountain that is Adam Duce – guitarist – appears to grab a few crates from his bus to take inside. I point him out and my new buddies attack. “Can we come in? Please, please, please”. “Sure” he replies. I tag along.

I look around in disbelief. I’m in a room with the legend Robb Flynn! Taking a beer from the basket I come face to face with my idol and cut into his conversation with two stunning birds. “You’re fuckin’ awesome”, dribbles from my lips. Shaking his hand I go on to tell him how great his last album was and that it really struck a chord with me. “Awesome dude, I’m glad to hear it”. What a gent. This guy doesn’t act rich or famous. He’s just as down to earth as Joe Blogs from around the corner!

I leave with the girls I’d come with and we flag down a taxi. “We’re lesbians and we wanna find a gay bar”, I’m told. “Do you wanna come”? Again I tag along.

It’s after three in the morning and nowhere is open. Getting out of the taxi the slightly hotter girl makes her excuses and heads for home. “You can stay with me at my other friend’s house if you like”. Sounds good to me. So off we plod.

Sleeping on a couch once her friend retires for the night I wake with the feeling of a pair of tits in my hands. It IS a pair of tits in my hands! What the fuck am I sleeping for!

I slide my hand around and try working my fingers inside her trousers. My hands removed. I try again. She’s awake but not protesting too much so..I try again. No avail. Into the early hours this continues and finally my hand is greeted by a loosened belt and unbuttoned jeans.

Bingo.

What happens next is something I deserve a slap for. Never again will you hear something so stupid, unless you read another of my stories.   -they are not always about trying to get laid-

I jump to my feet on noticing the time and shout “Fuck! The football. I have to get back to Edinburgh”!  “You’re joking”? She asks. “No, I’m serious. I have to meet my friend in Edinburgh, travel to Livingston and watch Celtic play away”. She’s not amused. I don’t know how as I stumble like a tripod looking for my glasses still aroused by my recent activities. I pull on my shoes and follow her as she leads me towards the bus station.

Now obviously, under normal circumstances I would have knocked the football on the head and carried on with this supposed ‘lesbian’, but I really liked a girl from my village and her Dad was taking me to watch the football that day. Couldn’t let him down, not if I wanted a go of his daughter.

I arrived at their door just in time looking a little worse for wear. I’d had no sleep and still couldn’t quite believe what had happened the night before.

A few beers before the game and too many after, I soon become a twat and tell her Dad everything. Years of trying to be the perfect gentleman (maybe a few months) wasted in one day’s worth of boozing. That’s one chick my hands won’t be getting near anytime soon, but the twenty pounds I find in my pocket soon puts that smile back on my face.

I recall the girl from the night before handing me the money to hold on to as her pockets were shit. Did try to call her.. But like my fingers in her pants..To no avail!

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