*** Anonymous Confessions Thread v6 ***

How on earth does a 43yr old bloke end up in a threesome with his missus and a 16yr old girl?

I'm 41 so any tips would be great!

Just kidding, or am I?
 
I once spent the night in a man's house without his knowledge. I was supposed to be staying at a mate's place in Rosetta but found myself on the wrong side of Hobart late at night, after public transport had stopped. Fortunately I was not drunk or high, so I still had my wits about me.

Another mate took me back to a house in Lindesfarne, where he rented a room. He told me that the owner would not allow guests, but since I was desperate he smuggled me in on the condition that I left as early as possible on the following day. I sneaked into a bedroom, and slept on a trundle bed. It was just a single mattress with no sheets, but after searching a wardrobe I found a thin blanket to cover myself. I used my jacket as a pillow. This was a Tasmanian winter. Polished concrete floor, no carpet, single glazed windows. Yes, I was cold.

I woke at 6:30am and changed into a spare set of clothes I'd brought with me. The owner of the house was listening to the radio but hadn't left his bedroom yet. My friend got up about 30 minutes later and made plenty of noise making his way to the bathroom for a shower. I used this distraction to tiptoe past the owner's bedroom and make my way to the front door. I fumbled with the latch for what seemed like an eternity, and eventually got it open.

I crept down the front path to the garage, where I concealed my original set of clothes beneath a stack of firewood. I walked to a local mall and hung out for a couple of hours, then eventually made my way back to the house and pretended I had only just arrived via public transport. The owner (who didn't suspect a thing) greeted me warmly and insisted on serving me a hot breakfast. Later I retrieved my clothes from the firewood pile, and took a bus home.

I have never felt guilty about this. It was great fun, and I would do it again! ^_^
 
When I was in primary school I once ran head first into a windowed door to prove I had a hard head. I guess I proved myself right and since that day the school had glass re-enforced with metal wire so I supposed the increased security is as a result of my thick head.
 
I've cheated on every single one of my previous 3 partners and my current partner. I've lost count on the amount of ladies I've had sex with in my current relationship. She has no clue and it's turning into a regular thing (once, twice or even 3 times a week, with the same or different women, depends on the week).




Until recently... I got a girl potentially pregnant, a girl I'd been seeing for the past 3 years (she's spanned over 2 of my relationships).




She picks up the results today, I've never been more nervous before. If she is, I'm going to come clean, most likely get what I deserve (loneliness) and hopefully this will finally be enough to stop me sleeping around. As I can't seem to stop my self.




I love my current partner, enough to marry her. Of which, my friends and her keep asking me to, but I simply can't bring my self to do it due to the amount I've cheated on her.
 
There was an email sent round at work a few months back, it was about the state of the blokes toilets, there had been complaints from a few people, and the cleaner, in the email was closeup images of the offences, there were shots of pebble dashed pans, toilet paper on the floor and even skids on the toilet seat! Truly horrific sights! the message was clear, scrub the pan afterwards!! I sat there shaking my head tutting and saying out loud things like "those animals" and "that's disgusting" but inside I wanted to burst out laughing, for I was the culprit and I found it hilarious that the whole office were reaching for the pitch forks! to me it was an accomplishment, I hate a lot of my colleagues, so to offend them in such a way is priceless to me. I feel bad for the cleaner though, I didn't give her a thought so I have since cleaned up my act, but sometimes, I spread my cheeks, lean right forward and push really hard, this means the pan gets sprayed and I get the satisfying feeling that I'm spraying in protest of the regime in place. I should probably change jobs! I hope not to offend anyone, but to me its hilarious.
 
When I was in my 20s, I was on holidays in New Zealand with a friend of mine. My friend knew a girl there and we got to stay with her. Whenever I travel abroad, I can't poo for a few days. On the day I finally could, I was really relieved until I realised I simply couldn't flush it. Nor sure if it was because it was particularly hard or because the toilets in NZ are a bit useless. Anyway, after having flushed three times without result I decided that the flushing must be getting obvious but I also couldn't leave that thing in the toilet. I noticed the window (this was ground floor) and decided the only sensible thing is to grab it and throw it out of the window. As to not draw any more attention to myself and the window opening, I decided to cough loudly so nobody would hear the window. I looked around, nobody in sight outside, and I threw it in the garden. Note it was very hard so no mess. I felt a bit gross, but also a bit happy because I finally got rid of it. I coughed again as I closed the window, washed my hands and joined my friend and his friend. Later that day, my friend came to me all concerned and told me that we need to talk. I nearly confessed my horrible action but instead looked at him with fear and shame in my eyes. He then proceeded to say that his friend thinks I have an eating disorder and was throwing up in the loo because she'd heard me flush multiple times and cough. I told my friend that she's a liar and that I neither flushed multiple times nor threw up nor coughed in an unusual way. I couldn't confess what I'd really done so I made it sound like she's crazy – while my poo was rotting in her garden.
 
For the past fifteen or so years I have been very active in the White Nationalist community and have done some things that would shock and scare people who know me. There are three or four pubs spread out over about 50 miles that we meet in where the landlords all hold similar sympathies and let us use their back rooms for meetings. Two of the core group are serving police officers who have helped things go smoothly on numerous occasions.

None of my family and friends suspect a thing and think that the meetings I attend are for a PTSD support group. They would be shocked beyond belief to find out the truth and even more shocked to learn about some of the things that we have done.
 
Back in the mid 90s I was engaged to my long term girlfriend. We had been together since high school and were one of those couples that never had any drama or arguments, we just got along. I had stayed over at her place one evening as her parents were away on holiday. The next day she was driving me home and was taking the pee because I got pretty drunk the night before and had been feeling rough. To get back at her I leaned over towards her and pretended I was about to throw up in her lap. She panicked, swerved the car violently and lost control. The car hit the barriers on the left, rolled over them and bounced down a large embankment and came to rest upside in a ditch next to a field. We were both pretty badly hurt and hanging upside down in the seatbelts barely conscious. I looked across at her, her face covered in blood and barely recognisable. She was mumbling incoherently, her breathing was laboured and sounded obstructed. I was the same, barely able to move, nothing was working or making sense, it was like the confusion from being extremely drunk. I was trying to talk to her but have no idea if I was even saying words. All the time we were hanging there the song No Rain by Blind Melon was playing on repeat – it was kind of our song. As the confusion continued I realised that she’d stopped mumbling, and her breathing was slowing and sounding more laboured. Not long after I realise that I can’t hear her breathing at all.

The next thing I know I’m waking up in hospital surrounded by my family. She was pronounced dead at the scene and my family were told to expect the worst for me. I made a full recovery and to this day nobody knows I caused the accident or that I’ve spent the last 20 years wishing I had the courage to take my own life.

I still can't listen to that song without breaking down.
 
I've been with my girlfriend for close to 10 years and met and got together when we were in 6th form so both 16 years of age. This is the story of my introduction to sex, jumping straight in at the deep end.

Anyways the first couple of weeks went as you would usually expect of two nervous teenagers who didn't know what the hell to do with each other, holding hands and so forth and generally just being awkward, anyway week three rolls around and my girlfriend invites me to a house party one of her friends are having. Being new to the area and new to the school I think great. Was about 8 of us in total going and all was great.

Anyways I go to the party and I'm having fun and we are all getting pretty drunk. As things progress drunk horny teenagers start doing what drunk horny teenagers will do and start making out with each other. Nothing too serious until 1 of the girls walks past grabs my hand and forces it down her top. I panic as it is in full view of my new gf and think oh ****.

Instead of going ape, my girlfriend just laughs and then encourages me to put my other hand down. That was the point I realised things may get interesting with this group.

Anyway time goes on and the house party's are a regular occurrence happening about once a month and getting increasingly seditious. I and my gf lost our virginity together properly in the hosts parents bed.

Eventually this effectively became full fledged orgys with everyone getting with everyone else and my girlfriend especially enjoying having "fun" with the other girls. Suffice to say us boys really enjoyed watching.

The hosts parents worked away a lot hence why we got to do this fairly regularly. Anyway one particular night we were all having our way with each other when we hear a knock on the door. We all scramble to get ready and in walks the hosts mum who had come home a night early. It must have been pretty obvious what was going on but we thought we had gotten away with it. That is until the mum blurts out "why could I hear girl noises". Suffice to say we all walked home feeling pretty shameful that night and could never look at our friends mum again.

This went on for the full two years of 6th form until we all moved away for uni etc. We are mostly all still best friends and meet up every few months though separately and not all together. Nothing happens now though and it's just a normal non sexual relationship between us all bar me and my gf. The thing is,as deviant as it was it was some of the most fun I've had in my life. Sadly my gf isn't into trying it with anyone else, although me and my girlfriend have a good sex life I do sometimes wish for those days back.

Anyways pretty extreme entry into sex to a fairly standard & ordinary, albeit good sex life now. Guess I feel I peaked too early. Anyways no one outside our group and our friends mum knows about it though a few rumours went around school. Though those rumours were a lot more innocent than what we actually got up to such as "I heard your girlfriend made out with another girl". Of course we would always deny it. Funny as most people looked at us with awe or curiosity rather than disgust. Anyways that's my tale and god what I'd do to go back to those days.





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gjrc said:
problem is, we have already had 5 versions of this thread so we must be running out of confessions....
Click to expand...

Maybe we can get a thread immunity from moderation. Then they'll come rolling in!

edit - oh, a bunch just got posted while I was reading. Happy days.

Wow, #131. They're getting pretty dark now.
 
Last edited:
[FnG]magnolia;30005521 said:
Back in the mid 90s I was engaged to my long term girlfriend. We had been together since high school and were one of those couples that never had any drama or arguments, we just got along. I had stayed over at her place one evening as her parents were away on holiday. The next day she was driving me home and was taking the pee because I got pretty drunk the night before and had been feeling rough. To get back at her I leaned over towards her and pretended I was about to throw up in her lap. She panicked, swerved the car violently and lost control. The car hit the barriers on the left, rolled over them and bounced down a large embankment and came to rest upside in a ditch next to a field. We were both pretty badly hurt and hanging upside down in the seatbelts barely conscious. I looked across at her, her face covered in blood and barely recognisable. She was mumbling incoherently, her breathing was laboured and sounded obstructed. I was the same, barely able to move, nothing was working or making sense, it was like the confusion from being extremely drunk. I was trying to talk to her but have no idea if I was even saying words. All the time we were hanging there the song No Rain by Blind Melon was playing on repeat – it was kind of our song. As the confusion continued I realised that she’d stopped mumbling, and her breathing was slowing and sounding more laboured. Not long after I realise that I can’t hear her breathing at all.

The next thing I know I’m waking up in hospital surrounded by my family. She was pronounced dead at the scene and my family were told to expect the worst for me. I made a full recovery and to this day nobody knows I caused the accident or that I’ve spent the last 20 years wishing I had the courage to take my own life.

I still can't listen to that song without breaking down.
Click to expand...

That's proper..........................
uvS9csi.gif.png :D
 
[FnG]magnolia;30005515 said:
For the past fifteen or so years I have been very active in the White Nationalist community and have done some things that would shock and scare people who know me. There are three or four pubs spread out over about 50 miles that we meet in where the landlords all hold similar sympathies and let us use their back rooms for meetings. Two of the core group are serving police officers who have helped things go smoothly on numerous occasions.

None of my family and friends suspect a thing and think that the meetings I attend are for a PTSD support group. They would be shocked beyond belief to find out the truth and even more shocked to learn about some of the things that we have done.
Click to expand...

Well I guess it's anonymous enough that it could be a couple of members :D.

I love these threads.
 
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