Seagull1967
Member
I have nine children so I would say I am ok
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Nigella's Cream Pie
Fingerlickin good
Ok, you've prompted the non-concussion sperm test anecdote.
As mentioned, I was in Spain. On this occasion they asked to take both a blood test and sperm test, back to back, if that term doesn't sit too uncomfortably in this topic. I rightly, I think, blame the hole in the left temporal for not absorbing language efficiently, and for my brief efforts to grasp Spanish not paying off, but it is at times like that appointment that I am sort of glad I don't know what is being said. Now, the error I believe they made, initially, is to try and take the blood first. This, of course, was not from gentleman Meade, but I have rather deep lying veins in the arms, so the first nurse I had couldn't find one to stick the needle into. She said, don't worry, I shall try to take blood from here, pointing the syringe at my knuckle area. I thought, aye aye, that's a tad unusual, but unaware of general health service processes in Spain, perhaps this is the done thing. I realised it wasn't when, after feeling the needle scrape across a knuckle or two, it snapped in my hand. Hmmmm. Wait here, she said, plucking the half-needle from the back of surprisingly untwitching hand, I will go and get another nurse...And please hold this cotton wool over the mini-gash (she didn't say that precisely in those word, but, you know).
Another nurse came along, who didn't speak any English, and did some feeling and pointing in my other arm, to let me where I was about to be pricked. She found blood, correctly, but then asked me to go immediately to the clinic's clammy fiddle chamber number 1, with an unusually large pot. The issue I had at first with this was that I had one hand covering the wound on my left knuckle area, and the other hand holding down the meager puncture on the arm blood was successfully taken from. What, precisely, was I supposed to use in this muggy cupboard to bring about the pleasure necessary to even slightly leave a deposit!? I'm not a flexible chap, or gone through Prince-esque surgery, or hung like a caballo. I had not words, or courage to resist, so into the windowless boudoir I went, and sat on a sticky seat for about 15 minutes before getting into action.
Anywho, in that murky lair were the following:
a pile of perhaps 4 or 5 Spanish jazz mags
a television that was off
a sink, with small towel
and a huge mirror that dominated a wall
These are not my main masturbatory ingredients. The filth pamphlets were of one variety: teen. The television had a remote control for it, but I am not going to press through the numbers on such a device that may still be uncomfortably warm from the last worn out user, and I don't want to click on, for instance, channel 17 at such a place and be caught stuck on a dolphin blowhole rape movie. The sink was fine, really, but it was the mirror that seemed most incorrect (apart from channel 17). I am in small enclosure, feeling grubby and without any self-respect, and there I am, having to watch my hand move feverishly for 7 minutes (yeah, right) to produce the sample required. It wasn't pleasant view out of the corner of my eye no matter which way I turned.
In the end, with the gluey sample in pot, I left the room and they led me to a small slot to place the container on, and that was that. I walked back out, saw the girlfriend and begged for us to be out of there as quickly as possible.
Probably doesn't seem very interesting to anyone but me, really.
Interesting, actually, and well done, you've got cojones
sjamesb3466
Well-known member
Mine appears to be annoying potent. I know I shouldn't complain as some people have a nightmare conceiving or can't at all but when me and the Mrs decided to start try for a little one I was hoping for six months of untempered welly boot free sex.
We were pregnant within two weeks.
We were pregnant within two weeks.
hart's shirt
Well-known member
I think it's when you have to fold it in, Fireman Dan style.
https://nortr3nixy.nimpr.uk/showthread.php?196574-shall-i-own-up
Seeing as I had a vasectomy a few years ago my sperm isn't all that! The vasectomy isn't as painful but the whole process is quite odd. Lying on a the bed with just a tshirt on while a nurse tried to make small talk was odd enough. Then the Dr held my balls and asked how it felt; strange was my reply! Turned out 2 friends of mine had the snip in same week as me too, though we hadn't discussed this beforehand, so the same Dr has held our balls.
symyjym
Banned
Last time I checked under my microscope, most were doing the butterfly with others doing the breast stroke and some the doggy paddle swimming around in circles..
D
Deleted member 2719
Guest
- Thread starter
- #49
D
Deleted member 2719
Guest
- Thread starter
- #50
Need more detail about the nurse......................................pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase.
symyjym
Banned
Need more detail about the nurse......................................pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase.
It was a male nurse:
https://youtu.be/93dTJ1y07_o
Need more detail about the nurse......................................pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase.
Similar to me. Got to 40 and decided two lovely kids were enough, so booked in to see Edward 'Rusty' Scissorhands at the BUPA place in Haywards Heath. The Mrs was soooooo looking forward to a bit of payback for childbirth pain I think.
Anyway, quick chat, scratchy shave by the nurse (neither old nor young, not unattractive so I was either counting ceiling tiles or something whilst not really engaging in the small (no pun intended) talk). Job was done quickly (not hugely painful, smell of burning flesh not great) and I was sent on my way.
Rang her up to come and collect me, much to her annoyance I had walked up the road by the time she arrived. Even worse, the following day I suggested we walked into town for a coffee. It honestly was nothing more than slight discomfort for a few days. I even started running again in less than a week.
D
Deleted member 2719
Guest
- Thread starter
- #53
Ok, you've prompted the non-concussion sperm test anecdote.
As mentioned, I was in Spain. On this occasion they asked to take both a blood test and sperm test, back to back, if that term doesn't sit too uncomfortably in this topic. I rightly, I think, blame the hole in the left temporal for not absorbing language efficiently, and for my brief efforts to grasp Spanish not paying off, but it is at times like that appointment that I am sort of glad I don't know what is being said. Now, the error I believe they made, initially, is to try and take the blood first. This, of course, was not from gentleman Meade, but I have rather deep lying veins in the arms, so the first nurse I had couldn't find one to stick the needle into. She said, don't worry, I shall try to take blood from here, pointing the syringe at my knuckle area. I thought, aye aye, that's a tad unusual, but unaware of general health service processes in Spain, perhaps this is the done thing. I realised it wasn't when, after feeling the needle scrape across a knuckle or two, it snapped in my hand. Hmmmm. Wait here, she said, plucking the half-needle from the back of surprisingly untwitching hand, I will go and get another nurse...And please hold this cotton wool over the mini-gash (she didn't say that precisely in those word, but, you know).
Another nurse came along, who didn't speak any English, and did some feeling and pointing in my other arm, to let me where I was about to be pricked. She found blood, correctly, but then asked me to go immediately to the clinic's clammy fiddle chamber number 1, with an unusually large pot. The issue I had at first with this was that I had one hand covering the wound on my left knuckle area, and the other hand holding down the meager puncture on the arm blood was successfully taken from. What, precisely, was I supposed to use in this muggy cupboard to bring about the pleasure necessary to even slightly leave a deposit!? I'm not a flexible chap, or gone through Prince-esque surgery, or hung like a caballo. I had not words, or courage to resist, so into the windowless boudoir I went, and sat on a sticky seat for about 15 minutes before getting into action.
Anywho, in that murky lair were the following:
a pile of perhaps 4 or 5 Spanish jazz mags
a television that was off
a sink, with small towel
and a huge mirror that dominated a wall
These are not my main masturbatory ingredients. The filth pamphlets were of one variety: teen. The television had a remote control for it, but I am not going to press through the numbers on such a device that may still be uncomfortably warm from the last worn out user, and I don't want to click on, for instance, channel 17 at such a place and be caught stuck on a dolphin blowhole rape movie. The sink was fine, really, but it was the mirror that seemed most incorrect (apart from channel 17). I am in small enclosure, feeling grubby and without any self-respect, and there I am, having to watch my hand move feverishly for 7 minutes (yeah, right) to produce the sample required. It wasn't pleasant view out of the corner of my eye no matter which way I turned.
In the end, with the gluey sample in pot, I left the room and they led me to a small slot to place the container on, and that was that. I walked back out, saw the girlfriend and begged for us to be out of there as quickly as possible.
Probably doesn't seem very interesting to anyone but me, really.
Much easier in Asda car park.
symyjym
Banned
Nope i can't bring myself to open that video, even if it is a goat.
Yes I stopped it before the act. The castration of animals is brutal and without any anesthetic. I suppose if it's done quick enough they don't feel anything.
D
Deleted member 2719
Guest
- Thread starter
- #56
Ok, you've prompted the non-concussion sperm test anecdote.
As mentioned, I was in Spain. On this occasion they asked to take both a blood test and sperm test, back to back, if that term doesn't sit too uncomfortably in this topic. I rightly, I think, blame the hole in the left temporal for not absorbing language efficiently, and for my brief efforts to grasp Spanish not paying off, but it is at times like that appointment that I am sort of glad I don't know what is being said. Now, the error I believe they made, initially, is to try and take the blood first. This, of course, was not from gentleman Meade, but I have rather deep lying veins in the arms, so the first nurse I had couldn't find one to stick the needle into. She said, don't worry, I shall try to take blood from here, pointing the syringe at my knuckle area. I thought, aye aye, that's a tad unusual, but unaware of general health service processes in Spain, perhaps this is the done thing. I realised it wasn't when, after feeling the needle scrape across a knuckle or two, it snapped in my hand. Hmmmm. Wait here, she said, plucking the half-needle from the back of surprisingly untwitching hand, I will go and get another nurse...And please hold this cotton wool over the mini-gash (she didn't say that precisely in those word, but, you know).
Another nurse came along, who didn't speak any English, and did some feeling and pointing in my other arm, to let me where I was about to be pricked. She found blood, correctly, but then asked me to go immediately to the clinic's clammy fiddle chamber number 1, with an unusually large pot. The issue I had at first with this was that I had one hand covering the wound on my left knuckle area, and the other hand holding down the meager puncture on the arm blood was successfully taken from. What, precisely, was I supposed to use in this muggy cupboard to bring about the pleasure necessary to even slightly leave a deposit!? I'm not a flexible chap, or gone through Prince-esque surgery, or hung like a caballo. I had not words, or courage to resist, so into the windowless boudoir I went, and sat on a sticky seat for about 15 minutes before getting into action.
Anywho, in that murky lair were the following:
a pile of perhaps 4 or 5 Spanish jazz mags
a television that was off
a sink, with small towel
and a huge mirror that dominated a wall
These are not my main masturbatory ingredients. The filth pamphlets were of one variety: teen. The television had a remote control for it, but I am not going to press through the numbers on such a device that may still be uncomfortably warm from the last worn out user, and I don't want to click on, for instance, channel 17 at such a place and be caught stuck on a dolphin blowhole rape movie. The sink was fine, really, but it was the mirror that seemed most incorrect (apart from channel 17). I am in small enclosure, feeling grubby and without any self-respect, and there I am, having to watch my hand move feverishly for 7 minutes (yeah, right) to produce the sample required. It wasn't pleasant view out of the corner of my eye no matter which way I turned.
In the end, with the gluey sample in pot, I left the room and they led me to a small slot to place the container on, and that was that. I walked back out, saw the girlfriend and begged for us to be out of there as quickly as possible.
Probably doesn't seem very interesting to anyone but me, really.
You know that was a 2 way mirror, right?
Probably the staff room on the other side
Bloody glad it wasn't 1)
Clive Walker
Stand Or Fall
Mine are just starting retirement