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The Weird Places I Have Masturbated In Public - Sabotage Times

P 18 November 2014 U W Anker


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A Council Skip

I was working on skip watch for a local district council in a ridiculously rural place. On a fairly severe ecstasy comedown, three bongs deep and still backed up after a frustrating night of e-based Indian rope dick with a local barmaid, I simply had to throw one out. From inside the skip, I leant with one arm on the highest edge and, while watching the road for people with fridges to dump, cracked one off into a pile of recently-felled conifers.

The 890 Bus to Wolverhampton

This bus route, when you consider it is only 14 miles, should not take as long as it does (anywhere up to two hours) I was on the special that stopped at every rural backwater and, after the chubby MILF with huge bangers exited in the middle of nowhere, I was alone on the bus. So I got into rhythm with its movements and quietly relieved myself into an empty packet of Walkers crisps. And yes, my bell-end did brush the salt. It fucking hurt.

A Golf Course

Although I wasn’t a teenager (25 if you’re asking) I was fucking bored. Coming down off a three day coke and red wine binge, I escaped the horrors of the idiots in my living room and got a BUS to a GOLF course. I’d got to the 9th hole and, on seeing that there were three groups waiting on the tee ahead of me, I slipped off into the woods and teased one out with a spliff in what appeared to be the classic pissing pose.

Two glasses of wine, a wank and a pack of salt n’ vinegar hula hoops and I’d be out until touchdown

A Bin Wagon.

Working on the bins one summer, the driver and I stopped off at his house for lunch. Or rather he did – the bastard left me outside for an hour in the stinking wagon. So I reached behind the seat for an old Razzle and spunked into his left work boot. Power of ten asshole.

Disabled Toilets.

Roomy, clean, and with a huge mirror so you can have a narcissistic mirror wank where your cock looks bigger and, if it tickles your fancy, witness your own cum face. A favourite at uni after long spells in the cell-like study cubicles.

The Caff.

One summer I was temping. The job was shit and the bus timetable meant I used to be an hour early. After the first morning in the caff, when I clapped eyes on the Amazonian goddess serving up Lattes and Muffins, I’d pop in every day before work for a cappuccino and a guilty shuffle in trap two.

12,000 ft above sea-level.

I’m no moutaineer and the thought of sky-diving leaves me cold, but as a teenager I would, whenever confronted with a flight, make sure I joined the one-handed mile high club. Two beers, a wank and a packet of salt n’ vinegar hula hoops and I’d be out until touchdown. It only recently dawned on me that most people would’ve known what I was doing. Funnily enough, despite my fantasies, a stewardess never ‘accidentally’ caught me and finished me off. Shame.

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Mate of mine fell out of Hammonds changing rooms while he was on the vinegar strokes, kegs round his ankles, engorged dick in hand.


Brilliant. Had a wank at every job I’ve ever had and in 60% of buildings I’ve entered more than three times.


you can’t beat the changing cubicles at Matalan for danger…or the poetry library at Royal Festival Hall on the South Bank, I’m sure Andrew Motion caught a glimpse as the white stuff splashed on the dust jacket of Heaney’s Circle & District.


In a car on a camping trip with my family when they were asleep (bar the driver of course). Beat that for danger!


“…the poetry library at Royal Festival Hall on the South Bank.”

Now that is class. A mate of mine claims to have knocked one out into Mariella Frostrup’s bra. MF was working as a press officer at the time. My mate turned up to listen to the new Janet Jackson album on the office stereo but one of the speakers was fucked. So MF, who lived nearby, kindly lent him the keys to her pad and let him get on with it. And so he did. Figuring it was a chance in a lifetime he had a root through her lingerie drawer, grabbed said bra, and Bob’s yer auntie. Heart-warming story if ever there was.


On the Wilde side – was that a case of Norwegian Wood?


Dunno about Norwegian Wood. by the time he was through, the garment looked like an octopus’s garden.


When my Aunt was working at Sainsburys she had to clean the mirror daily with a wall-paper scraper. Apparently a guy was wanking into his hand and throwing cum over the mirror as he left the room. She still doesn’t know it was me!


What’s the most sensitive part of your body when masturbating? – Your ears.


Who are you trying to impress, teenage girls or other Loaded reading ‘lads’?


hate these ‘lad’ articles, it aint funny.
I remember buying this back in the seventies


Made me laugh out loud….


yeah I pissed myself laughing too. Nowt like a good wank anecdote, and you sir are nothing if not adventurous in your choice of masturbatory locale. I’m rather conservative by comparison, I don’t even bother fucking mistress palm at work anymore due to my antidepressant and pharmaceutical opioid addiction leaving me with the libido of a castrated Trappest Monk.


exclellent. never off duty PC.


Kony 2012 bloke caught wanking in the last week but comments dating back to Jan 2011?!?! I’m all for recycling but….


hahaha here is the article! Wow you are a rel perv. Imagine if you had been caught – straight to the school psychologist for you


This made me lol – what the fuck did people complaining about this article expect when they read the title?


My most dangerous / comical wank? Stood on the toilet seat, over the sink, looking out of the bathroom window at my girlfriend’s 19-year-old sister as she sunbathed topless wearing just a black thong in the garden below. Must have taken me 20 seconds tops.


I also got caught by my gran once whilst wanking to an episode of neighbours in her front room. I think I ran from the room shouting something like “it was hurting!”.


Here’s another – I jerked off in the M&S changing cubicles having worked myself hard looking at fit birds choosing underwear. When I came, I tried to rub the jitler into the carpet with the sole of my boot, the tgere must have been shampoo or something in the carpet, as the more I rubbed, the more my jizz patch started to foam up. I just got the fuck out of there.


My mate Antony, a plumber, was fixing the toilet in none other than Mick Jaggers parents house in Westgate, Thanet, Kent. His parents made the fatal mistake of telling him which toothbrush Mick used when he was there, so he banged one out on it, he’s a bit strange my mate. Then he felt guilty washed said toothbrush, then shoved it up his arse. Don’t tell Mick though


But keef, if you want to give him a kicking, he lives in Birchington


Loaded 94-98, I agree, Martin Deeson was the best writer of all time, The Monopoly Board drinking game, Rock in Rio (I think)interviewing people he’d never heard of, blood pissing out of his nose, Legendary, conducting interviews writing on the back of a Fag packet, it went downhill after all the main guys fucked off


I worked in an office where there was the mysterious ‘Wank Club’. First rule of Wank Club was DON’T talk about Wank Club. We had a dry wipe board with ‘WC’ on it with two columns – M (Male) and F (Female). After you have spanked one out, you proudly walked over and put a tick in the appropriate column. The girls where the best as they took to it like a badge of honour. One of the girls was from Beckton and she came out the ladies and screamed in a deep cockney accent ‘Where’s the faaackin marker pen? I’m now in the club? to a bemused and silent office.


In a swimming baths toilet and it was quite busy and in ma bed with ma best m8 asleep next to me


You just can’t get the journalists these days can you? :D


I’d love to read a similar article from the ladies.


u can teel by the spelling and capital letters! and names!!!


Many places. Most noteworthy occasion would probably be on the plane, not in the bog, but at my seat in economy class with a blanket over my lap watching a particulary hot Trolley Dolly demonstrate the safety procedure’s before take off. Extreme caution was a must. Timing your climax to when the stewardess blows into the rubber tube is recommended if you’re thinking of trying this.

Another occasion would be driving on the M62 east bound following a heavy night out in Manchester with a sock over my nob.


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