LMAO - nipple clamp
Jan 31st 2009, 5:06 am
#17
BE Enthusiast
Joined: Dec 2003
Location: Ontario, Canada
Posts: 836
Re: LMAO - nipple clamp
just curious what size thingys are we talking about ?
Jan 31st 2009, 10:39 am
#18
Joined: Dec 2007
Posts: 2,838
Re: LMAO - nipple clamp
I've trapped my scrote on more than one occasion.
Jan 31st 2009, 10:49 am
#19
Auntie Fa
Joined: Nov 2006
Location: Seattle
Posts: 7,344
Re: LMAO - nipple clamp
Kerry, I hope you are making him pay BIG TIME for sharing this news. 
As to surfing nude - there's a reason I rarely switch on the webcam.
As to surfing nude - there's a reason I rarely switch on the webcam.
Jan 31st 2009, 11:01 am
#20
BE Enthusiast
Joined: Aug 2008
Location: The Gap, Brisbane. We made it.
Posts: 498
Re: LMAO - nipple clamp
I knew it 
Jan 31st 2009, 11:10 am
#21
Crazy Cat Lady
Joined: Apr 2004
Posts: 65,493
Re: LMAO - nipple clamp
Made me chuckle. Thanks for that and loved the stick drawing 
Feb 1st 2009, 12:12 am
#24
BE Forum Addict
Joined: Jun 2006
Location: Bonnie Scotland
Posts: 3,681
Re: LMAO - nipple clamp
This thread brings a recent email to mind......
We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top this one:
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.
On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway - because the truth was just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a "head injury," and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top of my head.
The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.
Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen. "Darling! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it."
"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower pitter-patter and steam. "Reset it yourself!"
"But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?" There was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take you a second."
So out I came, dripping wet and butt-naked, hoping that my silent outraged nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behaviour as extremely cowardly. Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing.
It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances. No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered, and snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent. The impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.
Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen floor, butt-naked, in front of a group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics. Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical laughter - and not succeeding.
Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about - which it was.
"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?" If they only knew!
Why is it that only the women laugh at this?
We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top this one:
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.
On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway - because the truth was just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a "head injury," and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top of my head.
The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.
Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen. "Darling! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it."
"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower pitter-patter and steam. "Reset it yourself!"
"But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?" There was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take you a second."
So out I came, dripping wet and butt-naked, hoping that my silent outraged nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behaviour as extremely cowardly. Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing.
It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances. No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered, and snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent. The impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.
Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen floor, butt-naked, in front of a group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics. Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to suppress their hysterical laughter - and not succeeding.
Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about - which it was.
"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?" If they only knew!
Why is it that only the women laugh at this?
