Why do lesbian chicks

[toejam]

Ideas?

Because they can?

[Newc]

I'd have to agree with the notion that it's the desire for a masculine partner without the male attitude. Women are generally content with snuggling and kissing and groping rather than the full-on pokey-poke, and they can get a firm grip from a butch and not have to worry that it's going to progress to spread legs, which then progresses to being some guy's cum dumpster, or punching bag, or bearing the baby of a complete headcase.

[Venomboy]

Spivonious, if that's what "turned" her gay, then if my mom beat me, would that turn me gay?

[Big D]

If I was gay, I'd pick someone equally as hot as me. Probably Brad Pitt.

[zeegler]

Spivonious, if that's what "turned" her gay, then if my mom beat me, would that turn me gay?

LOL, yeah, sorry to bust your bubble Spiv, but people don't "turn gay".

[ToneZone]

you rarely see two smokin hot lookin carpet munchers as a couple..its usually one female looking one and one flannel wearing Rosie O'Donnell lookin gal...

beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I suppose thats all that really matters isnt it?

I've seen a lesbian couple where both where beautiful. One of them was wearing pants though. She's the "Masculine" one, but she doesn't look masculine. Beautiful girl. Plays electric guitar too. And her girlfriend: Oh my!

[tonemonster]

I wondered about this for over 20 years.

for fuckssake Bill, LET IT OUT and ASK! dont bottle questions like that up for 20 years!

[bombtek]

Tricky, you couldn't get her in a bowling grip could you? I can see it now:

Horns: "Calm down sir!"

Boss: "Whaaaaaat???? C'mere, I'll rip yer dick off"

Female No 2: "Ha! If you want a dick, try mine" (Wallops Boss with 9" Strap-on)

Horns: "Now now, calm down pet, there's a good girl. You aren't behaving in a very lady-like manner. How about you go and make us a nice cup of tea and we can sit down and talk about this man to man"

Both women: "Banzai!!!!"

Horns: "Look! A mouse!!"

Both women: "Aiiiiiaeeeeeeeeee!!!!" (Both jump on desk)


Some time later..................

Horns (laying back on the desk, dripping with sweat, inhaling deeply from a cigarette) : Well, I'm glad we got all that sorted out. Now, about my promotion......."

Boss (daintily walking into the office with a tray of tea) : Hmmm, thank you for reminding us of our place Mr Man. We really enjoyed that, didn't we dear?"

Woman No2 : "Oooooh yeah. Can we have some more please?"

Horns : "Weeeeeell, if you must"

Woman No2 : "Great. Just let me pick the sweetcorn off this dong and we're good to go. Assume the position and bite the edge of the desk, officer!"

Horns : "GMMMNnnnphhhhh" Etc Etc.

It'd make a great movie.

Remind me to never EVER go drinking with Rsmacker because when I have it in my mind to go out on a binge drunk, i do not stop until I pass out. Sometimes I do some absolutely crazy shit in my intoxicated state before the pass out point. Well at least I'm told that I did some outrageous stuff by whoever saw me do it the next day LOL.

Rsmacker seems like the type of guy to get something like the above scenario to a hopelessly drunk person.....just for kicks. I do NOT want to be that person. I am never going back to the UK.LOL

[Reverend Timmy]

To hell with that,you want to party with Rsmacker!Just make sure he passes out before you do or just don't pass out at all.That would probably be best................

[atomic charvel guy]

if i were allowed too I'd go on a bender with the smacker.

[Rsmacker]

Awwww, come on guys, where's your spunk?

The last mental bender I went on was in September. Most of September in fact.
It started in Southern France, where I scared the shit out of a big gang of French so-called hard men. They were going to give my new-found French chums a kicking when I steamed out of the shadows, bollock naked, swigging some girly apple liqueur (Manzana?). Being English, I can shout louder, swear louder, climb on top of more ice cream booths, curse Charles de Gaulle more, insult more of their heritage, and offer them to sniff my balls and guess whose fanny batter I had on me than they could handle. Result - they piss in the pantalons and decide they are having none of this, and leave before I get to the bottom of which one of them wanted fucking first.

(The Suicide girly-type tattooed chick, as it turned out. But that's another story.....)

It carried on through to Italy, where several days were taken from me (I may have been abducted by aliens) in Rimini. That place is Sin City. Luckily, I'm a sinner, so therefore a winner. I can't actually remember a lot about that part of my trip. It'll come back to me. Maybe.
I do recall telling some blokes that their pizza was shit and they ought to learn how to make it properly off the French, and telling them about my Grandad's glorious Italian war campaign (and how many Italians he shot in the back, as they were running away)

On to Greece, a memorable liaison with some lovely Slovenians, including one girl who, the more alcohol I consumed, the more I was convinced she was a vampire. She did talk in that filthy Eastern-ish European way, like from an old Hammer film. I did end up telling her the best place to get a blood-filled vein on me, which I fear surprised her somewhat. The stake didn't go through her heart, as hard as I thrust it.

I tried to behave, got to Crete, had a punch-up with some of Amy Winehouse's relatives (apparently) who took exception to me calling her a fucking horse-faced scrubber when her video was played for the 3rd time. (OK, maybe that was only the tip of the iceberg on the insult-front, but you know what it's like when you've had a couple of sherberts and you're on a roll). No arrests, no hospital, happy days.

Further into Crete, away from the tourist spots (and those nasty English beer thugs. Ahem). Made friends with a nice Italian biker, we discussed bikes, the pros and cons of slaggy English women, then headed off into town to find some beaver. I should have had something to eat beforehand, but, you know what it's like when you start on the Mohitos.

Several hours later, I'm trying to buy a Czech waitress from a Cretan bar-owner (come on, it was a natural mistake, she might have been trafficked and therefore for sale. How was I to know?), after trying ALL my filthy Czech phrases on her. They were spot-on, judging from the way her eyes widened and from her refusal to come and sit on my knee. I've told the campsite owner, who I assumed spoke no English, that we were going to put his 30 year old daughter on the spit (it turned out his English was excellent. Whoops), and my new Italian chum is asking how I haven't been killed yet and begging me to keep quiet. Which, frankly, is the worst thing to say to me when I'm on one, it only makes things worse.

Finally, I can see he's going to collapse soon, and concede that we're not going to get any pussy, so it's back to the campsite. (Loudly telling the Czech girls that I was going to fuck him and dream it was them). In the dark lanes in the middle of nowhere, this big rough tough Italian semi-pro motorbike racer really gets nervous when I tell him I'm actually Satan's ambassador and that I'm getting a message through from my Master. (I actually meant that I could feel a massive fiery, sulphurous fart brewing ready for a noisy release). He thinks I'm leading him into the middle of nowhere, not realising I have English Beer Radar which ALWAYS gets me home, no matter which direction I set off in. Back at the campsite, he refuses a nightcap and crawls into his tent, moaning. (I may have mentioned the fact he was Italian and running away and that was par for the course).

Before "falling asleep", I recall being on all fours, yakking my ring up, beside some other poor bastard's tent. Some time later I awake, freezing, to find a cat licking up my barf, which was luminous orange for some reason. I think it was actually my stomach lining. I'm not letting that go unchallenged, so I lap it up too. And then spew some more. And fall around moaning. It's dawn, I need to get back to the crypt. I hit the hammock and it's goodnight Vienna.

Some time later, I hear my new Italian chum packing his tent up and riding away. Bastard, he never even said goodbye or got my details, and previously he had offered to show me the best places to find nice ladies in Berlin. He obviously forgot. Or something. I'm too ill to do anything but wave weakly from under my tarp. He looks scared and doesn't wave back. Miserable cunt.

Anyway, I couldn't get out of my hammock till 8pm, though the campsite owner was very sympathetic, he went out to get some Andrews'/Resolve/Soup/Aspirin for me on his moped. What a star! I suspect he didn't quite understand what a spit-roast is. Phew. I told him I was ill because I must have had a dodgy kebab, it was absolutely nothing to do with drink, oh no.
I did gingerly mince into town later that evening, for a glass or 2 of iced water and a bread roll, and I swear, just about every bar owner came out to watch me suspiciously as I passed. I had a hat on, pulled down over my face, the streetlights were hurting. That's it, no more drink for me.................

Till the next time.

Is this a thread hijack?

Ah, well, I'd better mention the pair of Belgian lesbians I met in France then. One was Jewish, one was black, so I suggested we make a movie about the triumph of love and friendship over the prejudices of 3 radically different backgrounds and cultures. With lots of anal and snatch licking. They said "Non" and wouldn't accept my offer of a BBQ sausage. (It's only just occurred to me that that's not really surprising for the Jewess.)

Soooooooooo, who fancies a little night out then?

[Endrik]

It carried on through to Italy, where several days were taken from me (I may have been abducted by aliens) in Rimini. That place is Sin City. Luckily, I'm a sinner, so therefore a winner. I can't actually remember a lot about that part of my trip. It'll come back to me. Maybe.

fuck.. you don't have to remember anything... they've got it all on tape... why didn't you ask 'em... it's a movie place mate.. you know Rimini aka Fellini town... maybe try youtube... search for "hammered british bastard with a strap-on on his head"

Soooooooooo, who fancies a little night out then?

no problem... I'm going pretty much the same route in July

[Spivonious]

Rsmacker, your road trip stories are the craziest things I've ever heard. I'm going to agree with the Italian guy you met and wonder how you're still alive.

[Reverend Timmy]

See,what did I tell you..............

[bombtek]

Alright I take that back,

If I ever get back to the UK, we're going out for a few weeks. I'll rent a bike load up my backpack and see just how hard it is to NOT get into trouble while asking for it to show it's face.