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Slapper Stories

23_Carra_Gold

By 23_Carra_Gold,
in GF - General Forum

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Faustus Grand Master

Faustus

Posted
Posted

Boss thread.

 

Looking over it, I could have sworn I told this story on here but obviously mustn't have.

 

Anyway, this was about two years ago when me and my mate were in Baltimore. We were having a bevvy this one night in a bar in the Inner Harbour not far from our hotel and these three Welsh birds overhear us talking. Initial onversation goes as follows:

 

"Hey, are you guys scousers?"

 

"Well, Birkenhead."

 

"Birkenhead? Really? So you two have heard of Tranmere Rovers then?"

 

Me and my mate are half-cut at this point and look at each other quizzically as it's not the type of thing you expect to be asked three Welsh birds who you're looking at with the beer goggles on. Anyway, it turns out that they were all sisters and they were visiting their cousin who used to be on Tranmere's books but had been released and was having a trial with DC United. We end up talking and having a few drinks with these birds and me and my mate pair off with two of them but obviously two into three don't go so there's an odd one out. We both start necking our respective birds, the odd sister just sitting there on her bill, and then they suggest going back to their hotel.

 

"So where are you lot staying then?" my mate asks.

 

"The Radisson."

 

"Oh sound, that's where we are."

 

Wrong. Fucking miles outside of the city these three were staying, not that you're arsed about that when you're bevvied and you're spending an absolute mission of a journey practically eating a bird's face.

 

We end up getting up to their room, the sister who's been left alone ends up kipping on the floor while me and my mate start shagging these two Welsh birds in their beds, which are about four- five feet away from each other so it's a little bit like that scene in Fargo where Steve Buscemi and his mate are nailing those two birds in the motel side-by-side.

 

Anyway, me and the bird I was with finish and she falls asleep. She starts snoring and never in my life have I heard a noise like it; exactly like Little Nicky's snoring in the Adam Sandler film and that is no exaggeration. I fucking shit myself, get dressed and, obviously still pissed, decide to leg it out of the room.

 

Halfway down the hotel corridor, I hear a cry behind me: "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" I turn round to see my mate completely bollocko, warning me that I better not leave him in the middle of nowhere. After chatting shit for a little bit- and thankfully no-one walking down the hall to see him- I relent and get back into the room, get undressed and clamber back into bed next to the demon snorer.

 

Next morning and after the roughest night's sleep ever, the usual awkward conversation goes around and we realise these two birds we've pulled aren't exactly stunners (Jo Frost, Super Nanny was who my mate likened mine to- the fucking prick). Anyway, there are the usual awkward glances at each other and the two birds start talking to each other in Welsh across the beds. It's blatantly obvious that they're talking about me and my mate, so at that point, I- still pissed- shout out loud as fuck one of only two Welsh words I know: "ARAF!"

 

There's an awkward silence before one of them goes: "What did you say just then?"

 

"Araf... you know- 'slow'. It's written on the roads in Wales, isn't it?"

 

"Oh... yeah."

 

So I've just made a dickhead out of myself and me and mate get dressed and are about to leave the room when the sister on the floor wakes up and we finally get a good look at her. Trust our luck- absolutely drop dead gorgeous and we both left her alone.

 

We end up getting a $40 taxi ride from back to our hotel in Baltimore, me and my mate feeling rough as toast. I noticed him at one point during the journey looking out of the window philosophically before turning to me and uttering the legend: "Trust us, eh? We shag the ugly sisters while Cinderella kips on the floor."

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The Special One Mentor

The Special One

Posted
Posted
Boss thread.

 

Looking over it' date=' I could have sworn I told this story on here but obviously mustn't have.

 

Anyway, this was about two years ago when me and my mate were in Baltimore. We were having a bevvy this one night in a bar in the Inner Harbour not far from our hotel and these three Welsh birds overhear us talking. Initial onversation goes as follows:

 

"Hey, are you guys scousers?"

 

"Well, Birkenhead."

 

"Birkenhead? Really? So you two have heard of Tranmere Rovers then?"

 

Me and my mate are half-cut at this point and look at each other quizzically as it's not the type of thing you expect to be asked three Welsh birds who you're looking at with the beer goggles on. Anyway, it turns out that they were all sisters and they were visiting their cousin who used to be on Tranmere's books but had been released and was having a trial with DC United. We end up talking and having a few drinks with these birds and me and my mate pair off with two of them but obviously two into three don't go so there's an odd one out. We both start necking our respective birds, the odd sister just sitting there on her bill, and then they suggest going back to their hotel.

 

"So where are you lot staying then?" my mate asks.

 

"The Radisson."

 

"Oh sound, that's where we are."

 

Wrong. Fucking miles outside of the city these three were staying, not that you're arsed about that when you're bevvied and you're spending an absolute mission of a journey practically eating a bird's face.

 

We end up getting up to their room, the sister who's been left alone ends up kipping on the floor while me and my mate start shagging these two Welsh birds in their beds, which are about four- five feet away from each other so it's a little bit like that scene in Fargo where Steve Buscemi and his mate are nailing those two birds in the motel side-by-side.

 

Anyway, me and the bird I was with finish and she falls asleep. She starts snoring and never in my life have I heard a noise like it; exactly like Little Nicky's snoring in the Adam Sandler film and that is no exaggeration. I fucking shit myself, get dressed and, obviously still pissed, decide to leg it out of the room.

 

Halfway down the hotel corridor, I hear a cry behind me: "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" I turn round to see my mate completely bollocko, warning me that I better not leave him in the middle of nowhere. After chatting shit for a little bit- and thankfully no-one walking down the hall to see him- I relent and get back into the room, get undressed and clamber back into bed next to the demon snorer.

 

Next morning and after the roughest night's sleep ever, the usual awkward conversation goes around and we realise these two birds we've pulled aren't exactly stunners (Jo Frost, Super Nanny was who my mate likened mine to- the fucking prick). Anyway, there are the usual awkward glances at each other and the two birds start talking to each other in Welsh across the beds. It's blatantly obvious that they're talking about me and my mate, so at that point, I- still pissed- shout out loud as fuck one of only two Welsh words I know: "ARAF!"

 

There's an awkward silence before one of them goes: "What did you say just then?"

 

"Araf... you know- 'slow'. It's written on the roads in Wales, isn't it?"

 

"Oh... yeah."

 

So I've just made a dickhead out of myself and me and mate get dressed and are about to leave the room when the sister on the floor wakes up and we finally get a good look at her. Trust our luck- absolutely drop dead gorgeous and we both left her alone.

 

We end up getting a $40 taxi ride from back to our hotel in Baltimore, me and my mate feeling rough as toast. I noticed him at one point during the journey looking out of the window philosophically before turning to me and uttering the legend: "Trust us, eh? We shag the ugly sisters while Cinderella kips on the floor."[/quote']

 

Amazing.

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Trumo Grand Master

Trumo

Posted
Posted

An entirely unrelated conversation today has reminded me of a story an old housemate once told me. I think it's a load of bollocks myself, but essentially, he pulled some girl in a club one night and went back to her place. He did the deed and scarpered out of there before sunrise. Later that day, when trying to recollect what had happened, it dawned on him that he hadn't wrapped up his bad boy at the time, and that the girl was a mucky sort who was also happy to take it up the wrong 'un. He was a bit panicked so decided to go and get himself tested. The receptionist at that place? Yep, you've guessed it.

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Champ Grand Master

Champ

Posted
Posted
I look forward to Champ's stories of pulling slappers. As pretty much every bloke I know is obviously a slapper' date=' I presume this will basically be the story of how she met Mr Champ and a slideshow of their wedding photos[/quote']

 

You're joking...I definitely could never show my face on here again....2 ton Tessie with a mullet haircut. 'Feathered', I believe it was called

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Champ Grand Master

Champ

Posted
Posted
That's no way to talk about Mr Champ and mullets were very popular with men in Liverpool in the 80's, so long as they were permed at the back you could get away with feathering the front. I'm sure your husband could pass for Jan Molby from that description

 

What happened in the 1980s stays in the 1980s.

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