TravelStream™ news feed for member kempseymattress on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/kempseymattress en-us Copyright ©2010 TravelPod.com Tue, 24 Jul 2007 02:45:41 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185259260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185259260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185259260/tpod.html Tue, 24 Jul 2007 02:45:41 -0400 The Global Antics of the Kempsey Mattress

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sydney, Australia

AKA the most expensive wank ever

Let me set the scene. It is second year, and I haven't pulled a root for a couple of days, so I'm feeling depressed when a couple of the lads, S, J and R (aka Johnnie
Holmes) decide to join the 100's club. For those that don't know, this is where you drink a shot of beer every minute for a hundred minutes then you keep going. We all started off well, young Johnnie Holmes decided not to embarrass us and retired after about 50 or so. It was quite humble of him and we later heard he went back to his room and actually sunk 400 more and only stopped because he was bored with beating the world record. Anyway, as usual, I digress. We were approaching 200 and S was starting to struggle, but buoyed by the knowledge that 200 was Steve Waugh's highest score he pushed on, made it and was then aware of the floor rapidly coming to meet his face.

Just 2 left then, J and I, we kept going drink for drink and eventually ran out of beer. Not to worry as I had had enough and my mind had already turned to ladies. B (B pass me the ball!) had put it into my head earlier in the night that tonight was the night we should become college legends, so I wanted to take it a step further and nail a professional. Her name was LuLu. We found her in the Yellow Pages and she was one ugly skank, but full of 240 shots of beer I didn't mind. I took her into my room and proceeded to fall over as I tried to take my pants off. On the 3rd attempt I just left them at my ankles and flung myself on the bed and said 'come get some'. She obliged (how could she resist, she was only human) and proceeded to give me a nice little blowie, during which I fell asleep (and I'm told farted twice). But being the consummate professional that she was, LuLu kept on trucking. I'd had enough blowie and a voice in my head, or perhaps W from the balcony, told me to turn her over and nail her senseless. Who am I to argue with....mmganjuvnifisn...five bucks get outta here! Anyway I lost a bit of time there again, I may even have been kidnapped by aliens, but you don't see me whingeing about it, there is nothing wrong with a little anal probing.

4 hours later and I'm still struggling to get that shot off. W & B (B pass me the ball!) are all on S's balcony watching me, with popcorn and 3d glasses and W, being the saint he was, even tried to wake up a comatose S by kicking him in the head 15 times so he too could enjoy the action. Lulu finally came up the solution, 'pull yourself off whilst I satisfy myself Amazon style' she says. An hour later and I'd fired torpedo one, for which LuLu gave me a standing ovation and a $240 bill, and the boys gave a cheer as they could finally go to sleep. So basically the moral of the story is that I had to pay $240 for a pull.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185236100/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185236100/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185236100/tpod.html Mon, 23 Jul 2007 20:17:43 -0400 The Global Antics of the Kempsey Mattress

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Bangkok, Thailand

It had to happen one day; after pounding friend's girlfriends, ramming dildo's up various chick's clackers and just generally being a dodgy prick, I had to go head offshore to add more notches to my bedpost. I'd always wanted to go on my own 'Sex Trek: the next penetration' around the globe, but death threats from various people had sped up the process! Anyway, where to go? Where to go? I needed to go somewhere where I could really knock my average up. Where else?...Asia. It doesn't get any dodgier, and I knew I would love it.

So off I went to Bangkok, and let me tell you there were a few chicks that were going to be banging my kok! I started off at this little night club called 'Sluts for Sale', it seemed like a real nice place to meet that special lady. I perused the scenery and there was this little stinker standing there with a miniskirt barely covering her pink bits and her top barely covering her ta ta's. Admittedly the ta tas weren't too flash, but as homer would say 'What are you gonna do?'. I walked over and gave her the full kit and kaboodle, the smirk, the shy look, and then finally the hard word. She just nodded and pointed to the outside back alley.
Ggggggrrrrrrrrrr, game on. Before I'd even had the chance to get fully out the door she had yanked down my pants and was sucking on my aesthetically pleasing old fella like a 900volt Hoover. Not one of the new ones mind you, but definitely a second hand one that was still in good condition. She seemed filthy as, so I thought I'd see if she was interested in some back door action. Surprisingly she was very receptive to go straight to blurter action and didn't seem remotely interested in pink pleasure. Result! I turned her round, pulled up her skirt and ripped down her panties and just gave it to her back passage. She felt fantastic, although slightly different to the normal blurter action I'd had.


I could feel the jisz rising and just at the point of no return. I put my hand around to feel a bit of muff.......but something was dangling where muff should have been. I couldn't stop, the jisz was flying and I gave 'her' a bum full of wrigglies. In that moment I wasn't sure whether to act upset or pretend I never knew 'her' nasty little secret but I decided to say nothing and roll with it. When in Rome, after all.

A dodgy little friend of mine with a predilection for backdoor toothbrush shenanigans had always told me gay roots only count for a 1/2, so the most disappointing thing about it was I was now only on 999 ½; I had been hoping to hit the triple figures that night. This story just goes to show that no matter how much they ask, you should never give "a girl" the complement of a reach around. It is just better not to know.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185234060/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185234060/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185234060/tpod.html Mon, 23 Jul 2007 19:47:26 -0400 The Global Antics of the Kempsey Mattress

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sydney, Australia

As you probably gathered from the stories on this blog, I do OK with the ladies. Now I don't like to boast but my numbers are pretty good, though not as good as R to whom we gave the nickname Sunny (after Sunil Gavaskar, as they had both raised the bat twice). But anyway, back to me.

While we boys all love to tell each other how many notches we have on the bed post (lucky I have a four poster) when it comes to telling the ladies we have to be careful. Because for some reason the girls don't like hearing that the number of conquests we've had reads like the top speed of a sports car. Instead of being thankful that they are copping it from an extremely experienced pounder with battle scars from four continents, they get all uppity and think you are a male slut with a high risk of giving them some nasty STD (and we all know that I have had the tests and passed with flying colours so what the hell are they worried about. They should just shut up and enjoy the ride). But again, I digress.

I encountered this phenomenon early in my career as a male model when I started seeing the princess we all know as The Little Jockey. As I said, this was relatively early in global adventures of the Kempsey Mattress but I had already earned myself quite a reputation as a ladies man. Not bad for a 19 year old. Anyway, The Little Jockey, although being as cute as a mouse, was pretty inexperienced in the ways of the world and the number of partners she had experienced before being lucky enough to find me numbered in the very low single figures ie one.

So for some reason she was obsessed with the number of women I had slept with and wouldn't let it go. It all came to a head one night after I had pleasured her with my wealth of experience and she asked me again, how many girls had I slept with. She really pinged when I told her it wasn't important and I knew that I had to tell her something. But what to do: tell her the real number and risk her dumping my ass for being a Ho or telling her a low number that she wouldn't believe and would end up causing me more grief? The dilemmas.

One of The Little Jockeys friends, lets call her the Miniskirt Bandit, was spreading vicious rumours that the number of chicks I had pounded was 60. Now can I just remind you all that I was only 19 at this stage so that number was ridiculous, well at least for another year or so. So I took a deep breath, looked The Little Jockey in the eye and told her that I had slept with a few less than half the number the Miniskirt Bandit was saying. The rest of the conversation went a little like this:

Silence.
More Silence.
TLJ - 'How many is a few less?'
Moi - '(Long pause while I think furiously).......Three'
TLJ - 'So you've slept with 27 girls?'
Moi - '(Long pause while I think furiously).......Yes'
TLJ - 'Including me?'
Moi - ''(Really long pause while I think furiously).......28'
Silence.
A lot more silence.

I didn't hear from The Little Jockey for a day or two and I thought I may have blown it. Luckily a couple days after 'the discussion' she came over to see me and told me that while she wasn't happy I had slept with so many girls, she would learn to deal with it and she would continue to see me. Result! I gave her a big hug and smiled to myself, happy that I hadn't admitted the real number to her which was roughly 10 higher. Honesty never pays.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185179580/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185179580/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1185179580/tpod.html Mon, 23 Jul 2007 04:44:20 -0400 The Global Antics of the Kempsey Mattress

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Dear readers. I know that you may consider me to be a fairly dodgy boy but I am here to tell you that it is my friends that are the really loose units. As I have already explained, a while ago Mad M and a few of the boys lived in Chile for the better part of a year. Now we all know that South America is party central but there is one certain event that takes the cake for party silliness and that is Carnival in Rio.

So, keen to spread the love and experience some intense cultural interaction, Mad M and the boys headed over on a hedonism holiday to see what all the fuss was about. Now I could tell you about the photos of the boys doing lines off half naked girls' stomachs on Copacabana beach at sunrise and a raft of other shenanigans but there is one story that absolutely epitomises the looseness of this crew.

One of the first nights in Rio saw the boys head out form the unit they had rented to sample the delights at one of the many cracking nightclubs the Marvellous City has to offer. As soon as they entered, the boys felt like rock stars, surrounded by groups of smokin' Latino hotties. Now the boys knew that it wasn't just their good looks and charming personalities that had garnered them so much immediate attention from the bevy of beauties; they had heard all the stories about the working girls that frequented the clubs , intent on earning as much cash as possible by showing the drunk, horny gringo's a really Rio good time. The boys had all discussed the risks and thought they would be able to pick up the locals without having to pay for loving, and one of them, Big W, was particularly adamant that he wouldn't be going home with any hookers. So it was with a great deal of laughter and abuse that the boys cheered Big W as he was the first to leave the club with a lady of the night on his arm. The rest of the boys partied on and at various stages staggered home to the safety and reassurance their unit.

During the next morning the boys gradually woke from their slumber and eased into their seediness, eating and talking shit about the night before. A quick headcount established that Big W was still playing away, much to the amusement of the rest of the crew. But by lunchtime, the amusement and expectations of stories of passionate poundings had been replaced by mild concern. Rio, after all, is one of the dodgiest cities in what is a reasonably dodgy continent and the big fella had been gone for well over 12 hours. It was mid afternoon, just as the boys were really getting concerned for the welfare of their friend and were considereing going to the police, when in walked Big W with a massive grin on his dial and said "Boys, sit down because do I have a story for you".

From the club, Big W had been escorted directly to the chica's tiny apartment that containing not much more than a very used workbench. Without so much as a 'how's your father', Big W found himself balls deep in the pay per pound hottie. Now at this point I should probably point out a few things about Big W; not only is he the smartest bloke I know, with a photographic memory and the ability to speak five languages fluently (well, 6 as he, like myself is a master of the 'language of love'), he is also pretty good looking and built like a Greek God (and no, I am not gay, not that there is anything wrong with that). But probably more pertinent to the story at hand is that Big W is hung like a horse (and I am talking Clydesdale, not Shetland) and pounds for two hours before being able to get a load off. He truly does make it hard for the rest of us mere mortals.

So anyway, after about half an hour of punishing the chica the dom breaks and Big W has to put another one on. As he starts pounding away again the poor working girl is seeing her night, and the number of blokes she is able to pick up in the hours of darkness and thus the amount of Reals she can make, go down the toilet. At the sixty minute mark, with the breakage of the second dom, the working girl really has the irits. As Big W gets his python back up to speed, into the little room walked two other working girls, giggling at the pounding pair on the bed. Big W doesn't break stroke as the chica, who is so done with proceedings, she starts chatting with the two girls and probably complaining how our boy's stamina is costing her a fortune (I say probably as Portuguese is not one of the languages Big W speaks).

Anyway the girls continue to chat and giggle and watch our boy on the job until the third dom gives up the ghost. At this stage, our poor, pounded chica heads to the rest room to powder her nose and is joined by the other two girls. From the sounds of the giggling in the dunny Big W suddenly has thoughts that he might soon be the meat in a four way, Brazilian hottie sandwich. He is stoked when his suspicions are confirmed as the two friends walk out buck naked (gotta love Brazillians with Brazzillians) and start lavishing attention on him. They roll him onto his stomach and start massaging him and then basically lie on him, pinning him face down on the bed. It was at this point that Big W felt something poking around his bunghole. Big W does a push up, the two girls go flying and he looks around to see the original girl he had pounded silly, standing there with a massive rubber strap-on firmly in place and pointed straight at his back door. The girls are silent and obviously worried about our boy going mental but Big W simply says 'I was just making sure it wasn't a guy' and lays back down, assuming the position.

Like I said, loose.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183100700/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183100700/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183100700/tpod.html Fri, 29 Jun 2007 03:09:22 -0400 The Global Antics of the Kempsey Mattress

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sydney, Australia

We all like toys, well I do, especially the kind that D brought in one day. Let's not beat around the bush, it was a poor man's version of The Rabbit. Apparently it had been picked up second-hand at a high school fete for just $2, and I was pretty sure there was a very unhappy soccer mum out there, wondering where her buzzing little best friend had gotten to. It is always painful to lose a family pet.
But anyway. When I was a child I was always told to share my toys. And just seeing it there was making me think about who I could share it with, but D, S, B (B pass me the ball!) and Mad M seemed more intent on just playing around with it. I was pretty sure it wasn't designed to be used as a massage tool on sore muscles after soccer practice (soccer f$gs!). Ditto for them pretending to ram it up my back passage whilst S molested me and screamed "that's right, you fight back...it's better that way".

So as I left D's room that night I decided I was going to pilfer it for 'better use' and used an old trick I'd learnt as a young bloke in Kempsey. When I was leaving I said 'D what's that over there?' and as he looked where I was pointing, I grabbed The Rabbit quick as lightning and walked out with it. He fell for it hook, line and sinker! My intellect amazes even me sometimes.

Anyway I hadn't just taken it for random use; I had L coming over for a follow up of the 'PIG-ON' incident. Somehow she had managed to get out of school again and I was salivating just thinking about it. I had discovered that there were certain disadvantages to sharing L with another bloke. Firstly he had been cheeky enough to have a sneaky one without asking. And secondly, I was worried about how my performance compared to his. The rabbit was going to be the perfect partner in crime; she could only have it when I wanted her to, and if I thought she was beginning to like it more than me I could just turn it off and say that it had run out of batteries. Genius!

The next night L came over and we got straight into it; no how are you, no small talk, just clothes off and straight into the meat and potatoes! I was ramming her hard, having assumed my favourite 'position of the hound', and talking dirty to her when I saw The Rabbit out of the corner of my eye, waiting on my desk, within reach, as fate had intended. Without breaking stroke, I snatched it up turned it on to 'Max' and slammed its cute little 6 inches right up her clacker. She just moaned louder and louder; I had in my hands the perfect weapon, no longer would I have my grass cut by a human friend.

It was all too much for me to take and 5 seconds later I blew my jiblets and gave her a gut full of wrigglies. I was pretty keen to tell the boys all about it so I immediately pretended to be asleep. And, I mean I can't talk to her, it's like talking to a revolving door. Thankfully she left soon after and I hurriedly got dressed and headed up to the pub to tell everyone about my one man (and a Rabbit) Danish Hamburger.

A couple of days later I got a message from L. It said 'look forward to seeing you again soon, loved the surprise'. Game on!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183097400/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183097400/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183097400/tpod.html Fri, 29 Jun 2007 02:22:35 -0400 The Global Antics of the Kempsey Mattress

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sounds Like..., Libya

Now for something different. I have this crazy friend, B (B, B , pass me the ball), and he tells the worst jokes you have ever heard (well, not quite as bad as mine which tend to be very long and drawn out and disappointing in that they don't ever really have a punch line). But anyway, back to B (B, pass me the ball). So while we were younger B (B, pass me the ball) had this stupid prawn joke that was his absolute favourite and he was forever telling it and giggling at it like a little school girl.

So in honour of B (B, pass me the ball) I have included two very ordinary prawn jokes for your comedic pleasure:
The first is just one that I found and think is quite possibly the funniest joke in the world (well, nearly as funny as 'What's the difference between a truckload of bowling balls and a truck load of dead babies? You can't unload the truckload of bowling balls with a pitchfork!).
The second is my mate B's (B, pass me the ball) joke. Enjoy


A little boy called comes into the kitchen one day and says to his mum, "Granny's got a prawn!" The mother says, "What on earth do you mean?!" The boy takes his Mother into the front room and shows him Granny, stark naked asleep on the sofa. He points to Grandmas protruding clitoris and says, "Granny's got a prawn! "His mother whispers, "That's your Grandmother's clitoris son!" To which The little boy replies...."Well, it tastes like a prawn!"


There are 2 prawns, one called Johnny and one called Christian. They're happy prawns, playing with their happy prawn friends. One day Johnny decides that he's bored, so he goes to see Cod.
"Cod, I'm bored," says Johnny. "Please turn me into a great big shark!"
So Cod waves his magic fin and turns Johnny into a shark.
Johnny swims off and has a few fun weeks scaring all his little friends. But eventually they work out that this particular shark isn't going to eat them, so they start ignoring him. Johnny gets angry and (disturbed prawn that he is) starts eating them. At last, there is only Christian left, and Johnny wants to play with him. He goes to Christian's rock and says,
"Christian, come out and play with me!"
"Nononono, you're a big shark, you're going to eat me!"
"No, I won't eat you, please come and play with me."
"Nononono, you're a great big shark, you're going to eat me!"
So Johnny swims off to see Cod.
"Cod, I'm bored! All my friends are dead, and Christian won't play with me. Please turn me back into a prawn again." Cod says "OK, I think you've learned your lesson," waves his magic fin and Johnny is a prawn again. He swims off to see Christian.
"Come out and play with me," he calls.
"Nonono, you're a shark, you're going to eat me!"
"No, it's OK! I've spoken to Cod, I'm a prawn again Christian!"

]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183096920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183096920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183096920/tpod.html Fri, 29 Jun 2007 02:04:47 -0400 The Global Antics of the Kempsey Mattress

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sydney, Australia

In first year at college I was what some might call 'a dodgy prick'. I put it down to youthful exuberance but whatever.

This was never more evident than at the College Formal when I invited along an innocent young lady named L who happened to still attending high school at the time (I love the uniforms). Now I had quite a history with L so was keen to spice things up a little and keep them exciting. After thinking long and hard on the issue, I had an epiphany; PIG ON!

I spent the whole night putting the moves on her and trying to convince her how much fun it would be to add someone else to the mix so was stoked when, at the end of the night, I went back to my room with her...and my mate R!! Result! We had a bit of a discussion on the logistics of it all, then I decided to initiate proceedings. After some uncomfortable moments I stopped and said to R 'well are you going to join in or what?', to which R pulled his pants down to reveal a blood engorged member. Now I didn't want to appear disrespectful but I told R, in no uncertain terms, to put on a dom. After all, I didn't know where he had been!

After several minutes of placing her on the spit, and a bit of high five action and trying to imitate my heroes like Ron Jeremy, I couldn't contain myself any longer and burst out laughing and left the room giggling like a school girl, and leaving her with R. I then proceeded to run up and down the corridor shouting 'Does anyone else want a go? Pig on! Anyone want to put L on the spit?'.

Now as you can see, I am all about sharing and I only really got upset about sharing her when I came back from playing football the next day to discover R had taken liberties, AGAIN. A bit rude I thought, especially as he didn't ask.

The weekend didn't end well though as L tried to get an extra day off school by calling her Principal and pretending she was her own mother. The Principal somehow saw straight through the ruse and told L to get her little tush straight back to school. Fun, and games, over, but it did gave me an opportunity to think of how to spice things up next time!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183095600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183095600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183095600/tpod.html Fri, 29 Jun 2007 01:49:29 -0400 The Global Antics of the Kempsey Mattress

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Santiago, Chile

At least some of my friends know how to share.

A few years ago I was sick of my housemate, R, having a stranglehold on the South American market so I decided to set sail for the promise land myslef and I took S along with me in case I needed help in dealing with any exotic infections. Mad M and a few of his mates were holed up in Chile with a pad in the burbs so we were counting on some serious hospitality (and boy did he deliver).

We met Mad M and some of his crew in Cusco, Peru for some serious shenanigans and to see if we could put a dint in the candy supply. After a few days of hedonism I was keen to move onto greener pastures and to really test the springs of the Mattress in that continent of countless hotties. Mad M told us that he was staying in Peru for a while but that S and I were welcome to stay at the pad in Santiago. Result. Mad M probably wasn't expecting the amount of hospitality abuse that was about to occur but 'such is life' as another Australian outlaw once remarked.

We arrived in Santiago and when I was shown Mad M's room I was pleasantly surprised to find that it not only contained his bed but also his girlfriend. When Mad M offered me his bed, he may not have intended for the offer to extend to his hot Latino squeeze but I was willing to exploit that loophole, and exploit it I did, like a madman! The Kempsey Mattress was back, the springs were screaming and the great southern land was delivering the goods. From the first night I was there I pounded Mad M's missus like the machine I am. I'm pretty sure lots of the stuff I did to her is acually illegal in that conservative, Catholic country, and if not, well it should be.I even took her on holiday to the beach for a couple days; it was as though I had found my very own, time share girlfriend. Awesome.

At a couple of stages I picked up some vibes that Mad M's housemates might not have appreciated this guy, who they didn't know from Adam, pounding their mate's missus in his own bed but I was pretty sure they would get over it. And I was sure that Mad M would also get over it, I just had to find the right time to tell him. To be honest, 4 years later, I still haven't found the right moment to be a man and mention it but I am sure I will soon.....

Anyway, after having my fun for a while S and I thanked the boys and Mrs Mad M for their considerable hospitality and continued on our mission to put away those accommodating South American hotties. There were more flags to be had and I saw a chick with 'made in Brazil' tattood on her lower back and two massive bags of fun in my immdieate future.

I was told some time later that as soon as Mad M got home from his holidays his housemates, who seen and heard me taking serious liberties with his missus, told him all about it and Mad M unceremoniously kicked her out of the house. Unlucky. It was also unlucky for Mad M because he had a permanent reminder of his little pixie that I had pounded while he wasn't looking. You see Mad M really did think of her as his little pixie and she loved it when he called her that. She loved it so much that she drew a little pixie and arranged for her biker, ex-boyfriend and amateur tattooist to ink it onto Mad M's arm.

Now Mad M tried to convince the big scary biker to make the pixie cute but the biker was having none of it and if any of you have seen what could be described as the worst tattoo in the world, it looks more like a nasty green goblin. But then again what would you do if someone was pounding your missus? Like I said, unlucky. Maybe Mad M playing with my aggots was his form of payback.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183075800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183075800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183075800/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 20:12:26 -0400 The Global Antics of the Kempsey Mattress

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Sydney, Australia

AKA - Not Everyone is Keen on Group Sex No. 2

I think I must have Socialist leanings as I am pretty keen on the people of the world sharing the world's resources, especially its female resources. Maybe not everyone agrees with this concept which is what gets me into so much trouble.

It was a big Friday night out for our hero (ie me), and I had gotten pretty boozed up in North Sydney with some college friends and had a fight with my girlfriend of the time, The Little Jockey. The Little Jockey went home in a huff (rather than the usual, other way round, big pun intended) and I decided to keep drinking with the boys so we all went into the city to the newest cool place - the Shark Bar.

There we ran into B and M (not bondage and masochism, pity, but friends who were a long term couple) who had also been drinking heavily at a party. Apparently at the party the subject of the conversation had turned to group sex and M had expressed that she would like to try it. B had jokingly gone along with the conversation, wondering why his buxom princess would want anyone but him. He obviously didn't share my Socialist sympathies.

Fast forward to later that night, I was chatting to B and M about politics when I suggested that we explore my concept of Socialism by all going back to my place and having a spa at the complex in which I was living. After having a few drinks in the spa I steered the conversation back to group sex, and B went along with it, still thinking it was a joke, as he was not interested in sharing his princess. How was I to know? So when I suggested going for a sauna, M followed immediately saying it would be fun. B stayed in the spa for a few more minutes before heading over to join us in the sauna. It was then that I noticed B looking through the door of the sauna to find that I had instigated the Socialism experiment a little early and M and I were going for it, in the position of the hound. For some reason B looked shocked. M saw her boyfriend, B, looking in and started motioning for him to come in and join us in our Socialist utopia. For some reason B left immediately in tears.

Apparently B went straight over to see my Little Jockey and without him even having to say a word, she said 'The Kempsey Mattress pounded M, didn't he'. She was a smart girl that Little Jockey. The Socialism experiment all ended pretty badly but before any of you think poorly of me I just want to explain the mitigating factors that show I did nothing wrong.

You see I had actually been pounding M long before she and B ever hooked up. As I may, or may not, have mentioned I was a bit of a god at uni and one of the girls lucky enough to get some Kempsey Mattress action was our budding young Socialist, M. M and I had actually gone at it like rabbits for a period, christening the helipad amongst other sites. So you see we were actually old friends, just renewing our acquaintance. Plus B and I were good mates, and just like the Keeper of the Anaconda in France, he should have learnt how to share. When you were a kid didn't your parents tell you that you should share your toys?
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183012800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183012800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/kempseymattress/km1/1183012800/tpod.html Thu, 28 Jun 2007 02:43:32 -0400 The Global Antics of the Kempsey Mattress

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Somewhere in Northern France, France

An alternative title for this story could be:
How I will even try and snake a bloke's chick while he is on the job...

A couple years ago some boys and I went to visit our mate B (B, B, pass me the ball) in northern France where he was living at the time. As happens we ran amok, it was a big night and there was plenty of spade work done, as well as some pretty fantastic disco moves out there on the dance floor.

One of the boys went home early with this a very rough Israeli that even S the Deviant would have knocked back while B and the Keeper of the Anaconda put in some serious yards with some young Irish girls. True to form, and despite being disadvantaged with a broken leg in a cast, the Keeper of the Anaconda took home one of the Irish chicks and B (B, pass me the ball) picked up her friend.

And again, true to form, B (B, pass me the ball) got nothing.

I was pretty upset about the night as I am usually a shoe in, especially on foreign soil, where my come on lines seem a little more exotic and sophisticated. In actual fact I was crying like a guy who has just walked in on his best mate pounding his missus (something I have a bit of experience with) and kept walking in on the Keeper of the Anaconda, saying hi and just standing there until he told me to feck off. I mean, he WAS in flagrante but that was the point, mates are supposed to share. I tried to remind him about this and then kept walking back in with no clothes on, being the serial sex pest that I am. After being threatened with death I retired for the night wondering where it had all gone wrong and ruing another of the very few nights that the Mattress didn't get any work.

The next morning we were all sitting around the breakfast table with the Keeper of the Anaconda expounding on the previous night's deed when he went into graffic detail of how he had done this chick up the chuds (I still don't know how this is physically possible). B (B, pass me the ball) nearly choked on his breakfast when the Keeper of the Anaconda explained how he had done it on the very kitchen table we were eating at. We didn't tell the Frenchy housemates and I still giggle at the thought of them unknowingly eating dinner on the scene of the crime. Quality.
]]>