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This is a question Public Sex

Train carriages, car parks, behind the altar at midnight mass. Where have you done the dirty?

Thanks to SpankyHanky, Chart Cat and others for the suggestion

(, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 12:58)
Pages: Latest, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, ... 1

This question is now closed.

I just remembered!
Sparklet! you need to finish your uni work now, there's nothing to see here..

Right then, I was in Leicester, a long long time ago with the (then) bloke. We'd not seen each other for a few days. We were still at the velcro genitals stage, and I felt kind of odd with my clothes on. After a couple of drinks, we found ourselves in the marketplace, where there's a big old white building with a bridge attached to the front, sideways on in a vaguely European style..So we climbed over the railings at the bottom, ran up the steps and jumped on each other..

The thing is, no one ever looks up.. I found myself minus my knickers with my hands on the gritty balustrade, and a lovely young man holding my hips and introducing himself.. Whilst underneath the bridge, people were wandering in and out of the pub, talking and laughing, the doormen were greeting customers, and no one looked up...It was great but really strange...

(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 11:44, 2 replies)
You gotta know when to hold 'em...know when to fold 'em...know when to walk away...know when to RUN...

“Pooflake, for fuck’s sake put your cock away! We’ve gotta go…NOW!

Those precious few words saved my life.

There I was, just about to hurtle bell-end first into the weightiest orgasmic climax of my pitiful few years on this planet...

…An orgasm that was the perfect spaff-tastic finale to what was undoubtedly one of my greatest mystical dalliances into the art of 'bumping-uglies'...ever.

When I heard that fateful phrase being shouted ferociously at me, it was immediately followed by my being forcibly removed from ‘hanging out the back’ of a fine foxy filly on all fours.

And I’ve never been so grateful.

Disclaimer: For obvious reasons as you will soon realise, some of this story is told from the perspective of the mate who barked those life-changing words at me; as it was relayed to me after the event.

~~~~~~~~~~~Wavy lines~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was 21, verile, and drunkenly hip-twirling through life. Many of my weekends were spent going out on the piss in Leicester with a mate from work called ‘Maxi’. I would always crash round his shagpad on these booze-fuelled extravaganzas.

We were an odd pair...he was a nightclubbing, aftershock drinking, ‘dance choon’ fan, I was a pub, pint of cider and packet of pork scratchings type of guy. But we got on well, and our usual nights out would include a combination of things to accommodate both our tastes. (hopefully with some ‘flange action’ thrown in if one or both of us got lucky).

However, whether our nights prowling for slappers delightful young ladies of low moral fibre would end successfully or not, the evening would always end up the same way. In a casino.

Y'see, Maxi was a gambler. A shite one, but a gambler all the same.

So early evening on this one particular occasion, it was business as usual. We were out getting merrily cunted in some standard townie bar...when I saw her across the crowded room…

Her name was Emma. (What is it about girls called 'Emma'?)

We’d met in various pubs a few times before, caught each other’s eye, danced, talked and even enjoyed a little kiss and cuddle. I thought she was quite lovely and always hoped to see more of her...all of her in fact...because she had ownership of a body that you’d like to eat your dinner off without using cutlery, (and when I say ‘dinner’ I mean 'lashings of whipped cream and a drizzle of chocolate sauce').

We’re talking a 'Special K advert’ body here. I found myself making involuntary ‘Grrr’ noises just looking at her.

Our eyes met and I walked over to ‘test the water’…but this time she was different. Although pleased to see me, she seemed distracted, like she was ‘angry’ about something…

Now, I didn’t know what it was that had annoyed her so, and I didn’t want to know….because when a ‘so-hot-she-was-setting-off-the-smoke-alarms’ woman wants to vent some frustration in the ways that she was suggesting, a man would have to either be a raving spackercake or a ‘Vagina decliner’ to refuse such an offer.

I mean, if you’ve ever made ‘angry love’, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

So we chatted, sat and kissed politely. It was going well. Maxi went off to try (and fail) to pull as the night went on, then eventually, and with a crushing inevitability, he returned to us and said: "I wanna go to the Casino...”

I was about to tell him to ‘cock off’ but surprisingly, Emma thought this was a great idea (I suspected the VERY late bar might have had something to do with it). She agreed to accompany us and even suggested the casino we could go to. RESULT!

Our only problem was that it was members only. How could we get in?

At that point, Emma unveiled her fiendishly brilliant scheme. She told us: "I'm a member, I used to go there quite a bit. The cards don't have a name or photo on...just a membership number. Here Maxi, you borrow my card, sign Pooflake in as a guest…

…then Pooflake, you come back outside...

…and you and I can ‘slip round the back’ and sneak in the ‘tradesman's entrance’…"

(Oh alright, so she didn't say the last bit exactly like that, but you get the idea)

She passed the card to Maxi and glanced at me provocatively before whispering: "…and they’ll be nobody about in the alley!..."

Just the anticipation of what diabolically saucy shenanigans were going through her beautiful lust-filled head started my spunk trumpet standing to attention. I dutifully wandered in to the place with Maxi, got signed in and bollocked straight back out and round the corner into the adjoining passageway

As soon as she saw me she kissed me passionately…pushing her tongue deep into my mouth and swirling it around with so much force that I thought the enamel would peel off my teeth. Within a few short seconds she had rammed her hand down my pants and started schlong-slapping my Loch Ness love monster like a mongoose taunting a startled spaff-spitting King Cobra.

I then heard the most wonderful words ever whispered breathily into my ear. She said: “I want you…deep inside me.” She then proceeded to lay down on the damp back steps, hitch up her little skirt and manoeuvre her tiny black panties to one side.

Such a blatantly rampant horn-fest was a relatively new experience for me…but I wasn’t about to miss out.

Seizing the moment, I did what any red-bloodied male would do in the same situation...I dived in and made a lunge for her clunge like a drunken lump of sponge.

Forgetting technique, finesse or even the time-wasting element of completely removing my trousers, I was soon laying on top of her and pounding at her clout like a maniac with a meat tenderiser. Her legs stretched up behind my ears to gain maximum penetration to her sweet, moist and vice-tight snatch. I was in a blissful euphoria as she made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want to make love, she just wanted sex…she wanted to be fucked. Hard.

Normally in these situations of extreme eroticism I would be a 'two push Charlie' but even at this moment of heightened pleasure, for some ungodly reason (maybe alcohol) I had the awesome power of stud-muffin stamina – and I rode her like I was a stallion on steroids, enjoying every sticky, sweaty moment of shuddering pleasure as it ricocheted and jolted through our collective spasming nerve endings.

With our bodies gushing, panting, heaving and grasping at each other ever closer…we were oblivious to the odd townsperson walking by the alleyway nearby. Everything was going full blast into the perfect crescendo…

Switching scenes now, Maxi was on the roulette table during this period of frisky frivolity. Losing as fucking usual, he was quietly approached mid-game and tentatively tapped on the shoulder by a burly security guard with a smirk on his face.

“Excuse me, sir, would you mind accompanying me to the security office?” He asked

Perplexed but with nothing to hide, Maxi obliged, and as he entered the pokey broom cupboard of a room, he had to squeeze himself past half a dozen or so assorted members of staff and security, who were all leering over the CCTV screens with knowing expressions.

”Do you know this man? He was spotted earlier with you…” The man-mountain quizzed Maxi as he pointed to the screen featuring my pasty pale buttocks going up and down like a bride’s nightie.

Recognising me, but unsure as to exactly how much trouble we were in, Maxi replied: “Erm…

However, before he could continue he was cut off by another security guard who said with a big grin:

“…Because he’s doing quite well!”

Maxi breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry mate”, said the casino manager: “You’d be surprised how often we get this round here…let him finish then go and tell him he was on Candid Camera!”

As Maxi reflected on who was actually guarding the casino at this point…they all continued to watch.

Soon feeling reassured by the relaxed nature and good humour of the other guards, Maxi joined in, having a good ogle at my virtuoso strumping performance.

“Go on mate – give ‘er the rough stuff!…” One guard cheered…entranced by the hypnotic rhythmn of my shafting skills.

“Oooh yeah, she loves it, the dirty bitch!” another yelped enthusiastically, whilst they applauded and patted each other on the back, all the time Emma was bucking and writhing under my frenzied thrustage. Maxi chuckled and quietly watched on.

“Ooh look, she’s turning over, ‘es gonna give it to ‘er from behind! Go on mate...up the arse!” They chanted, drooling at this X-rated display that they were actually getting paid to watch.

So there I was, completely oblivious but possessed by some sort of spicy splooge-god...I helped turn Emma onto all fours and resumed thrunging, until just as I was approaching the Jester’s shoes…Emma arched her back, tossed her long locks behind her head dramatically, and as she frothily came, the open mouthed, gasping-in-ecstacy expression on her pretty face stared right into the camera for all to see.

At this point, With Emma's lovely features clearly on view, the Casino Manager said with a laugh to one of his fellow voyeuristic (& Brontosaurus-sized) colleagues:

“Hey, you know what, Pete?…That girl looks a lot like….”



He was then cut off by the massive Security Guard as his beady eyes widened to the size of satellite dishes and the penny finally dropped...making the huge man bellow with a piercing roar:



Maxi:Ooh fucking hell”.

Suddenly you could hear a pin drop in the tiny control booth, and all eyes are slowly turned back to the gurning pneumatic pump-action Pooflake, proudly pummelling away, and still finding it difficult to believe his luck (or longevity).

The stunned, hanging silence is then shattered by a deafening “I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL HIM!” shouted by the gargantuan gorilla of a guard as he turns on his heels and reaches for the door handle.

The manager then extends his arm, stopping him in his tracks and says: “Hold on mate – you can’t do that…It’s not like he's ‘raping’ her or anything…”


Manager: “In fact...it looks to me like she’s quite enjoying it”


With that, two of the other guards reached out and each grabbed one of the potential murderer's arms (obviously wanting to avoid the administrative ball-ache of filling out statements and wotnot on my unpleasant demise). In the ensuing struggle, the manager screeches to Maxi,” If you want your mate to see another day…get him the fuck out of here…NOW!”

Maxi duly sprinted off like a whippet on whizz to find me…and relay to me the immortal line at the beginning of this post, after which I was promptly dragged off into the night to have the situation explained to me in a taxi, whilst Emma stayed behind.

Weeks later I returned to Leaicester, saw Emma again and finally got to speak to her…It turned out that although she was also 21 at the time, her over-protective dad still treated her like a child and had actually ‘grounded’ her. She had decided, in her own inimitable fashion, to go out anyway and teach him a stark lesson once and for all, that she was now well and truly a grown woman…with fully operational lady bits and everything...

She explained that although it was a spunk-of-the-moment idea, she knew perfectly well what she was doing...just as she knew that her dad would be able to see her gratefully grunting on the arse end of a Pooflake-powered-pork-portion.

She didn’t give a shit about what her dad would have done to me though…Apparently my meagre life was a worthwhile sacrifice for the cause of 'taking a stand'.

On learning this revelation I felt like a sex toy...used…dirty…violated.

And it felt absolutely fan-fucking-tastic.
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 11:36, 12 replies)
I once saw a couple having sex

So did everyone else so it seemed when i turned my head to see everyone on their balconies gawping.

So did everyone around the pool...

Did I mention it was Magaluf, in the height of summer? Did I mention it was about 2pm, or that it was on a walkway above the main high street...

Or that they were screaming love noises...?

Although bless'em, they did have the courtesy to stop when a couple tried to walk past. Then they carried on oblivious. Interspersed with her turning round and giving him a blowy.

It attracted some sort of horrified interest. All whilst this is going on kids with armbands running past me... playing games around the pool. Really very strange afternoon that.

Best part... when they finished they both kissed and headed off in different directions...
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 11:15, 1 reply)
Arse out in Attenborough
Well, me and the (now ex-)missus were getting down to business on a sandy bit of land near some gravel pits, the place is part of a nature reserve, but no-one was really around so we thought what the heck...

About half way through there's suddenly a strange, very loud, sound of hoofs nearby, thinking nothing of it other than "probably some cows in the field over the river" we carry on...

30 seconds later with my arse (amongst other things) in the air, the entirety of the local riding school comes by and i'm forced to just stop thrusting away and quickly lie on the missus covering as much of both of us as possible...

This was in fact pointless as all the horses passed by at about 4 feet so one bemused riding instructor and around 7 tittering 12-year-old girls later, it was pretty obvious they knew what was up...

Having absolutely no words to say, even if i wanted to, the best i could do was just continue lieing face down on top of her and pretend nothing was happening, in the attempt to make all seem normal i was as a result suddenly overcome, for some reason, with the urge to wave at the instructor behind the rest of the group and give a smile as she went by...

She even smiled and waved back whilst obviously trying not to fall off her horse with laughter...

Possibly one of the most embarrassing, surreal, and yet arousing incidents of my life, i think the missus felt the same way, as after they passed it was straight back to business...

Happy days...
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 11:11, 1 reply)
Does it count as 'public' if it's with your own kids?
My wife and I have a boat in Tewkesbury and last time we were up there it was a bit cold so on the Sunday the children got into bed with me while No.2 put the post-shag brews on. I fell asleep, only to be rudely woken a few minutes later by my son, who's discovered that the bed is wet inside. I mutter something about 'condensation on a wooden boat' and turn to nod off again until yet more urgent jabs in the back and the cry of "Yes daddy but it's not compensation it's all sticky and it tasted weird too" followed by Cordelia - all of 6 years old - with "Oooh, let me try!". So, from this delightful and genuinly heart-warming family scene several questions arise:

i. Am I now a card carrying nonse in need of a huge collection of santa clauses and deers on the front of the house a.k.a. "Paedo Lights"
ii. Will my son, post early wanking years, remember yesterday's events at some point to wake in the night screaming his noggin off then run into my bedroom and pan me in?
iii. Since my wife contributed her own personal moip into the mix, as it were, isn't she also a padeo?
iv. Since my wife is a paedo ought I send her to a council estate in Portsmouth with a sign roung her neck so she can get what's coming to her, the skanky kiddy fiddling coo

I think we should be told.
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 11:07, 8 replies)
The sea of tranquility
I was fucking Angelina Jolie, Kelly Brook and Anne Widdecombe on the moon, when my mobile rang. It was a mate telling me he was watching me bone the three hottest women in the world on the BBC. Turns out that the Hubble Telescope happened to be pointing at the crater we were in and I'm so fucking impressive that it was being broadcast all around the world.

I couldn't look Brad Pitt in the eye after that.

What? You lot started it...
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 10:52, 3 replies)
My first girlfriend was in to danger sex
we fucked in no particular order

In a cinema,

In several changing rooms around the country in well know shops,

On a national express bus surrounded by people covered by the smallest blanket,

On a bench by a lake at Tehidy Country Park,

In her mothers car whilst her mother drove us home,

Wembley Stadium not in the toilets but in the stands again surrounded by people,

Reading Festival on the ground watching the Sterophonics and people kept standing on my bobbing arse.

These exploits are nothing compared to what my wife and I get up to. So far we have fucked in

A bed

Oh wait... :(
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 10:47, 1 reply)
Does this count as public?
Wanking in the girls changing room at school one lunchtime cos the girl watching had casually mentioned earlier that morning she'd never seen it before?
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 10:41, Reply)
Hooers, hairy boils and stinky blowies
Having worked out at an early age that the uglier the woman, the more likely I would be to get a shag, especially when 10 pints in and barely concious, I’ve always made a habit of cracking off with the fattest, most skid-marked, puss ridden lasses possible. Several cases come to mind involving public penetrations.

The first was a woman I met during a lads’ weekend to Blackpool. She was 57 and her husband was at the bar. With a false leg two inches shorter than the good one and a personal shopper at Kwik-Save it was all I could do to try to suck off the hairs on the boil over her lip. 2 Barcadi and Cokes (and a pint for her husband) later I was bouncing off her flaps in the gents, covered in piss and vomitus.

A couple of years later I was with a hooker in a hotel in Cologne. With a colleague in the next bed (hence public) I asked the lass to sit on my face. As I was on the vinegars, one of ‘her’ testicles fell out and landed on my nose. I did the right thing and went off spectaculary a few seconds later but at the time there was an enormous sense of having to crunch the little fella in my teeth. Managed to resist though. Afterwards she nonchalantly popped him back in to the sound of my mate laughing himself silly into his pillow. Lesson learnt and from now on if the hookers stand up to piss I take it as a dead cert sign of future testicular mayhem.

Events hit a new low in Amsterdam where I’d won the yellow jersey for attempting to knock one out on the tube to Heathrow. 12 wanks and 11 hours later I staggered into a wank booth off the main drag only to be followed in by what appeared to be Jocky Wilson in a wig. This unit sat down, unzipped my bags and promptly vommed up all over the new trouser. Such was my state of mind that as she staggered from the booth I made a grab for one of her huge norks only to be rebuffed with a rather manly growl.

There are other episodes in Africa and Easter Europe which are too horrid even for me to go into.
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 10:23, 3 replies)
The Metro Center Car Park (and others)
Nailed the then-current-then-ex-now-current missus (long story, teenage love, split for 10 years, now back together, married, kids etc.) against the side of my dads (empty) car in the yellow car park at the metro center when we were 16 and bored waiting for our transport to arrive back, so with a little angling and skirt hitching, we were on our way.

I just remember an old grayed security guard giving me the "Go on son!" fist shake of approval when he was strolling past on his rounds.

Before we were finished, my mother, father and grandmother appeared in the doors of the car park, so I made like we were hugging for the 60 seconds or so and kept hammering away, keeping my face as nonchalant as humanly possible.

Other than that.. the ladies toilets in the Public Library, on an empty train, cinema, in a bakers shop (accidentally broke into it... another story altogether), in a tent next to a mate of mine who was equally "at it" with some other bird, while we occasionally chatted (much to our drunken amusement and their annoyance)

Anyway, I'd like to extend my apologies to anyone who may have witnessed my bare arse doing the hokey-cokey - but some things you just can't un-see
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 10:12, Reply)
Not too exciting
In a school toilet on a saturday aged 14 (she was 16, playa) while me and her we doing the lighting for a kid's stage school show. Wasn't very nice but makes a good story for the grandkids
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 10:06, Reply)
Where oh where...
Many public toilets
Halfway up Snowdon
By the side of the stage at WOMAD
All the single digit motorways
In a swimming pool where I was supposed to be lifeguarding
In the gardens in the middle of soho square
In the middle of a girls school hockey field when it was snowing
Several other road side venues
In the sea about a hundred yards off the beach in Newquay (a mate later told me it was well obvious to the assembled thousands on the beach what we were up to)
Just about every car I have ever driven
The toilets of a Eurostar


When I was a teen I was besotted with this girl. We both lived with our folks so opportunities for relations were pretty much limited to the alfresco option most of the time. Anyway, we split up and I was devestated but a few weeks after we agreed to meet up for a drink to catch up. Inevitably (feelings were still quite strong between us) we went for a walk to the local park and one thing led to the other. Moments later we were down behind a bush getting it on for old times sake.
What I later found out from the girl (about a decade later) was that her mum had been worried that she would be upset so had discretely followed her to be pub to make sure she was OK and had then followed us to the park and seen the whole thing.
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 9:26, Reply)
Does it count as non-consentual if you were there for sex to begin with?
My (now fiance) and I used to have public sex every single time, due to being 16 and having to sneak around behind parents' backs... But this past weekend takes the cake.

My fiance and I have officially become swingers.
We went to a "swingers night" on Saturday just gone, and met a nice young man named Steve. The only person there around our age (we 22, he 24, the rest of the group in at least their 40's) and the only person there worth talking to, let alone doing anything else with. He was also a first-timer.

After a bit of awkwardness, we ended up in a room, about to get down and dirty, when Steve turns to my fiance and asks if he can have a few minutes alone with me. I'm all for it, so my darling man leaves us...

Steve and I are too busy getting busy to notice him even leave, as he goes to town on my ladybits with his lovely lovely tongue ring (Never been a fan, but now I am!) while I moan, groan, etc. in pleasure.

After a while, I feel my fiance sit beside me, and start stroking my leg. I grabbed his hand and scratched his palm lightly (our agreed sign for "everything's okay") so he came up and started kissing my neck. My hand crept up his thigh, started caressing, then a sudden realisation hit: wasn't he "freeballing" tonight? Why does the cock I am currently stroking have a layer of cotton between me and he?

As I opened my eyes in shock, I became aware of a few things:
1. No, that wasn't my fiance I was just grabbing, that was a fat hairy middle-aged Greek man who I'd been trying to avoid for an hour beforehand
2. The door was open, my legs were open, and the six men crowded in the door all had their cocks oout and were freely tossing off to the sight of this all happening to me.
3. My fiance was nowhere in sight.
4. Steve wasn't between my legs anymore. He was trying (in vain) to push a gorilla of a man's mouth off of his own cock while GorillaMan had his forefinger up my hoo-ha.

After a quick glance between Steve and myself, we came to a mutual silent agreement to get the rest of the men out of the room. He stood up quite quickly, almost hitting his head on the low ceiling and making GorillaMan let go, while I struggled free of Hairy and, raising my voice, told the rest of the men that the show was very much over. The door crowd left fairly quickly, but Hairy had other ideas. He proceeded to tell us off for leaving the door open, it's seen as an invitation to play, etc etc etc...

After that, I had some of the best sex I've ever had, the shared strangeness of the situation had brought Steve and I closer together so we had no problem asking for what we wanted from each other. We hammered away with five minute breaks in between for a good hour, maybe two, before heading to the steam room and doing it there.

Where was my fiance through all of this? He was having his first ever gay experience, and now understands why I can't do a certain act for too long... Sucker!
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 8:46, 2 replies)
Swimming pool
in front of a hotel on an extraordinarily busy freeway. Truckies driving past blasting their airhorns every few seconds. I like to think somewhere on the CB airwaves I was a hero that night.
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 8:38, Reply)
In his parents bed...
...while they were downstairs watching Deal or No Deal.

He doesn't even live with them, so God only knows what they thought we were up to.

Also, the trashy local nightclub toilets with a guy who my rather judgemental uni friends would consider way waaaay out of my league. I didn't tell them though. I just quietly lived with the overwhelming sense of smug satisfaction that came everytime my man-magnet flatmate commented on how desperate she was to shag him...

She'd been in the next cubicle at the time.

(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 5:35, Reply)
I came home one night to discover a couple standing locked in a tight embrace under the deck of my house, right outside the back door (my house backs onto a delightful carpark/alleyway combo, so it probably seems fairly secluded if you don't realise people live there).

I was only nipping in briefly to pick up a jacket, so I just strolled up to the door, nodded at them, went in, grabbed the jacket and came back out to my friend's waiting car. When I exited the house, the guy was standing there looking embarrassed while the girl struggled to pull up her tights. I got into the car. "I think they were rooting under your deck," my friend remarked. "I don't really care," I replied, "as long as they don't leave their used franger lying around."

The next morning I opened the back door to see a forlorn condom lying crumpled on the ground directly outside. Filthy buggers.
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 4:14, 2 replies)
I'm a bit of an exhibitionist it would seem...
A loss of inhibitions in the bump'n'grind department is very much a good thing. As I've come to realise over the last year or so.

The public element of this has been in the usual places, the car, the cinema, a bar, etc, and we've never been rumbled.

Except once.

We'd been out for dinner, and things we're gettin a little heated in the car afterwards. We drove to a car park, picked out what we thought was a good spot (far corner, no lights etc), and rather quickly hopped into the back seat.

I can't get her clothes off quick enough, and pretty soon she's naked and I'm going for it.

Just as I've hit the jackpot and am collecting the prize her phone rings, and she HAS to answer it. Cue talking on the phone rather breathlessly whilst simultaneously getting dressed and clambering back over to the front seat.

No sooner than we are just about dressed comes a knock on the window. And a policeman stood there looking rather embarrassed (poor lad, his female colleague was a few steps behind trying to suppress her laughter at him). He politely informs us that that sort of behaviour is not on (IIRC he actually said 'you can't *really* get away with that sort of thing in public, in semi-daylight') and not to do it again.

We're rather embarrassed at this point, apologise profusely and promise to be good in future, before collapsing in giggles as soon as they've gone.

A couple of mins later a van pulls up at the side of us. We think nothing of it, 'til two more policemen contained in said vehicle decide to berate us for our disgraceful behaviour.

Four coppers to stop us fornicating in public and we'd already stopped by the time they got there, and we wonder why police efficiency has dropped. :D
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 23:31, Reply)
In my dad's car on the way to Great Uncle Salvatore's do I was idling whistling the theme tune to The Godfather.

"Stop that!" My dad demanded.

"What?" I asked, coiling my arm round my girlfriend, Jo's shoulders in the backseat, my other hand resting on her thigh, trying to figure out the best way I could get my fingers on her clit without her noticing (fucking impossible, that is, by the way). "Not now," Jo whispered in my ear. "But definately later," and she gave my hand a curt squeeze.

"Your Great Uncle Salvatore is NOT in the Mafia!" said my mum, sitting up front in the passenger seat next to my old man.

"If you say so..." I said, edging my fingers a little closer to Jo's furbox - until she slapped my fingers away.

Curses! Foiled again!

Jo and I were visiting my parents in Lesina, southern Italy. It was FUCKING HOT, hotter than Angelina Jolie wanking off in a sauna with a jalapeno pepper hot. And the four of us had packed into the shitty little Fiat to go and visit Great Uncle Salvatore in Foggia, the next town along. Big Uncle Salv runs a textile firm and is fucking loaded, apparently. He was having a bit of a do for the relatives to celebrate some textile industry award he'd been given. Though the only thing I can think Big Salv might win is 1st place in a 'looking like Fat Tony out of The Simpsons' pagent. He was just, in my humble opinion, well fucking dodgy.

A free meals always nice, but Jo and I were only a couple of months into our relationship and were still going through the joyous, wonderful, amazing fuck-like-horny-drunk-rabbits-on-viagra phase. We'd spent most of our time at the beach, perfecting the fine art of sea fucking. It was ace. But having to go and visit a load of crusty old Italians was not so good. The only reason I'd agreed to go was because, well, I had no choice - but also because it was taking place at the swankiest place in the whole of Foggia, a hotel with a swimmingpool, no less, and a free bar.

Fucking bring it on, I thought.

We got there, parked up, went into the lobby and met up with the bastard ospring of the cast of Goodfellas and Night of the Living Dead aka my elderly Italian relatives. After a bit of chatting Jo and I slinked off.

"We're gonna go find the pool and have a swim," I said to my mum, holding up my satchel containing the swimming gear. My mum waved me off and we were free, well, at least until mealtime.

"We're gonna go through to the dining room now, Spanky," said my mum. "Great Uncle Salvatore's going to give a speech first before dinner..."

Fuck me! Fuck that for a game of soldiers.

Jo and I found the pool - inside jobbie with air conditioning, fucking great! We went and got changed and met back up at the poolside. We had the place to ourselves.

Jo eased herself into the still, blue water: "Come on, Spanky! Its lovely..." she purred. Jo was a fine looking girl, her short platinum blonde hair and big blue eyes made her look Manga; and I'd been wanking off over the motorcycle chase scene in Akira since I was a teenager, so it was a dream come true when she agreed to let me fuck her on a regular basis. And I loved Jo with all my heart because she had the tightest cunt I had ever had the pleasure of receiving full entry privilages for. When I was inside her it was like having a big strong man grab my cock and shake it 'hello' for a few minutes before I coughed up my syrupy cock-mixture. Fucking lovely...

I splashed into the pool. We pissed about in the water for a bit, then Jo pinned me to the side of the pool and started rubbing her tits on my nips. "Shall we have a go at the underwater lurve?" she asked, reaching down and stroking my sea snake. Evidently she meant what she'd said in the car earlier. "Doesn't look like we'll be disturbed and no one can see what we're doing in here anyway even if someone does come in..."

I liked her reasoning and I didn't need to be asked twice, I felt my cock hardening at the thought of fucking my very own super sexy mermaid woman (only without the weird fish lower body thing going on). I felt Mr Stiffy rise to the occasion and tug against the fabric of my trunks.

Time to Free Willy, I thought.

I reached down and pulled down my trunks, Jo ground onto me, banging my arse hard and repetatively against the side of the pool. Again and again and again. With such force I could hear the banging resonate round us for ages afterwards.


We'd had a bit of a snog, I'd twisted Jo's incredibly long and pointy nipples like the dials on a 1950's radio for a bit, we'd had a bit of rubbing-her-twat-on-my-cock-through-her-bikini-bottoms action.

Now it was time to get down to some serious hardcore underwater Stingray-style fucking.

I eased Jo's bikini bottoms down and played my fingers over her fleshy beef curtains; I hammered away at her clit with my fingers like I was playing chopsticks on the piano. Jo reciprocated in kind, she grabbed my hard torpedoe, jacked me off for a bit, and prepared for a hot n salty underwater breech.

And then I realised something a bit odd.

The banging was still going on...


But Jo was no longer grinding onto me, slamming my arsecheeks against the poolside.


Anyway, back to the vagina in question - after a few failed attempts I slid into Jo (getting your cock in someone underwater is harder and requires more training than performing your average spot of keyhole surgery, complete with endoscope, a kinky little mask, and a fashionable pair of rubber gloves), and Jo bobbed about ontop of me for a bit, harpooned like a prize tuna (only with tits).

And then my dad burst into the pool room. Followed by my mum and several random relatives looking like extras geriatric extras from The Sopranos.

"SPANKY!!!" Screamed my dad, his nostrils flaying. "STOPPIT!!!"

Jo jumped, so did I. We hurried back into our swimming. After a few moments trying to figure out how everyone knew what we were up to, we clambered out the pool and, sheepishly, went and got dressed and slinked into the dining room, ready to here the great man, Fat Tony - I mean, Great Uncle Salvatore's speech.

And I looked up.

And I gulped.

The entire righthand wall of the dining room had a picturesque view. It was blue, it was watery, it was see-thru; some kind of toughened glass. It was the side of the pool where Jo had had me pinned moments earlier.

The crowd of relatives smirked at us. My dad came up and said wearily:

"Didn't you hear me banging on the glass?"

I shook my head, Jo went bright scarlet. We took our seats quickly. Great Uncle Salvatore did not look too fucking pleased, to say the least.

Later in the evening, Jo and I were still sat ridgid, trying to be invisible and waiting for the time when we could leave, when one of the elderly relatives, a little old lady - had no fucking idea who she was, some great aunt or other - came up to me and grabbed my hand.

In very broken, heavily Italian accented English she said knowingly:

"You should be ashamed!" Shit - I thought - here we go. But she squeezed my hand and continued: "You should be ashamed of your arse! Its too hairy! You should shave it..." She glanced at Jo with a look of pitty. "I'm sorry about his hairy arse," she said to Jo.

And then she fucked off, leaving me wondering how the fuck your supposed to shave your own arse, and shuddering at the thought that this old crone had seen my arse in the first place.

"Do you like my arse, Jo?" I asked.

"Shuttup," she replied...
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 23:29, 14 replies)
Outdoor pursuits
A graveyard

Toilets in a pizza joint

Cardiff docks ( as me and her was getting "aquainted" a guy rode past on a bike - i might have waved at him )

In a field
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 23:27, Reply)
Ooh, and one more...
Me and the girl from the coach story a couple of posts down were at Lizard Point in Cornwall one sunny summer's day and after making our way to some very secluded caves, got a bit frisky with each other.

I still like to tell people that I once received the country's most Southerly blowjob :D
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 23:25, 1 reply)
Me and my ex-wife snuck into the bushes at a wedding once.
We had a quick but very enjoyable shag, and when we got back inside the first thing she did was tell the people we were with (my best mate and his girfriend) where we'd been.

A few months later at work me and a colleague were discussing outdoor sex and she told me she'd done it on her mum & dad's front drive (!). I told her about the wedding, and when I mentioned the conversation to my wife later that day was told "Well that's that then. We won't be doing that any more if you're just going to go and blurt it out to everyone" O_o
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 23:23, Reply)
The former student nightclub in Huddersfield

There is a windowsill in there that will always be mine, you can see it in the telly advert for the uni with Patrick Stuart with the stuujents doing drama behind him, they turned the club into a drama studio you see.

Oh and she was called deborah, and we got it on to Pulp's Disco 2000 (Your name was deborah, it never suited ya etc...)
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 23:19, 1 reply)
I got a blowjob on a coach once...
Sadly I can't remember where it was going or where it had been, but my girlfriend and I were sitting quite a few seats behind everyone else.

To be fair, just about everyone else on board was at least as old as me and the missus combined, so even if they'd looked back I doubt they'd have been able to see what was going on.
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 23:14, Reply)
Tried to do it on the banks of the danube one night, under the influence.
I couldn't get the tools to work, and we gave up. Two minutes later, as we continued along the path, the rozzers walked by.

I like to think someone up there in the sky was looking out for me and decided to press my "off" button. It also meant the girlfriend forgave me for failing, so result!
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 22:18, Reply)
Chav Sex
After a particularly heavy night on the town my drunken staggering home took me through a small park. Having trouble putting one foot in front of the other I decided to stop on a park bench and have a smoke.

After lighting up I become aware of some rustling in the bushes behind me followed by some giggling and snorting. After a short pause there was a loud
"Fook I don't have any rubbers wif me"
"No bother" came the giggly reply "I'm already pregnant. But don't worry it's not yours"
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 22:01, 5 replies)
Last night.
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 21:57, 3 replies)
A little cruise
This QoTW reminds me of a rather random thought I once had while discussing various things with my ex-boyfriend.

Cruising. An activity carried out by gay men involving wandering around various 'designated' locations, usually late at night but not always.

Through gestures, eye contact, body language and sometimes just overtly asking, two or more guys will come to an understanding and disappear into the bushes or someone's car for some mutally satisfying squelching noises.

While I've enjoyed sex outdoors in the past, cruising is not something I've tried. But it's surprisingly common. Done by guys (gay, bi, or even just straight and seeking a bj) of all ages, races, religions, looks and body types. And what's more, it's usually quite successful, while a man might not succeed every time, the odds are quite high he'll find someone to get off with relatively often. Being physically unattractive is an impediment of course, but a determined man will still find sex more often than not. Quick and efficient, that's the point - anyone willing to cruise can and will get some sexual action.

The thought that came to mind was... why isn't this more common among straight people? There are lots of single men out there who are not looking for a relationship, but are looking for a good shag. There are lots of single women who have the same criteria.

How do these two groups meet up in order to arrange said no-strings sex? They go out to nightclubs. Bars. Singles nights. Chat on the internet. All of which cost quite a bit of money or are rather time consuming. You're not looking for a meaningful relationship, you're looking to be sexually satisfied, why go through the rigmarole?

Wouldn't it be easier just to have more straight people of both genders 'cruising'? Perhaps even have establishments for it, like the gay saunas that exist in many of the larger cities.

There are lots of problems with the idea of course. There's issues of bad weather or freezing cold. There's the fact that some people find it weird or creepy. Plus there's the current illegality of sex outdoors.

But I couldn't help thinking that the average person might be slightly happier if they were able to go out and get laid on a semi-regular basis with minimal effort or investment.
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 21:22, 3 replies)
I had a good one
but on reflection, I think it's probably best not to post it in great detail. Loose lips sink ships as they say, though they weren't as loose as I expected.

Suffice to say if you're going to do the bad thing with someone you really REALLY should not be anywhere near, always ensure that;

A) The tree you are frenetically hammering away under is actually in the dark, not plainly visible from a busy main road.

B) You don't unload the person in question's huge, white jugs which show up like two glowing death stars in the dark

C)....... sorry, where was I? Oh yes

C) You are not engaged in frantic frottage with said person in an area where anyone who does spot you will undoubtedly know both you, your partner, and the many many reasons why it shouldn't be happening.

Failure to follow these simple guidelines may lead to sustained rumour mill activity.

It might also be worth adding

D) If you are offered a trip up cadbury alley for the first time ever, don't decline it on the grounds you might hurt her. You will kick yourself the next day, you twat.
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 21:02, 1 reply)
A few that I can think of
I've managed a few in weird places, mostly thanks to the Armys habit of sending me all over. Ignoring the wank in the guard box byt he Rhine Centre in Düsseldorf at 03:00 on morning, and several tugs in a sleeping bag in the guard room on duty, I've managed to get some weird shags.

One night in Düsseldorf, the powers that be made the mistake of not only putting me and my missus on guard together, but they sent us out on patrol together, so we had a quick one somewhere between the Orificers Mess and the civvy transport group hangars.

Top deck of a South Yorkshire Transport double decker was a good one. We were the only ones on the bus, and I reckon the driver was waching through his periscope, that trip took *ages*.

On a metro train between Leeds and Bradford was uncomfy, but not as bad as the launderette on some Scout camp in the Lakes, or the Crew rest room at a Scouts Watersports centre. And no, the only watersports involved canoes and dinghys.

Round the back of my old primary school classroom would have to be the perviest, even though we waited until all the kids had gone home.

Coldest would have to be on the bonnet of my old 2CV in a car park in Reading, most visible in the grounds of a psychiatric hospital I used to work at, with what seemed like half the patients walking past, but most company would have been the top of a hill overlooking Goring on Thames. All the other cars parked up should have been a bit of a giveaway, but we cracked on anyway.

Coming up in a few days, we have a planned shag on a nudist beach when we both have time off midweek. Daytime of course - it's already been done at night with the nocturnal audience.

Warmest would have been within a couple of hours of getting back in from a patrol during the first Gulf War round the back of the storage hangars at King Khaled Military City (AKA "Emerald City")

Then getting caught on the vinegar strokes by the Provosts round the back of the cookhouse at Bloodhound Camp in Cyprus - we finished that one off just outside the Kyrinia Beach Bar the following night, and we weren't the only ones active that night, the whole beach seemed to be vibrating.

But my most memorable one has to be in the back of a moving ambulance on Salisbury plain just going past stonehenge, that one brought new meaning to "Sergeants Mess".

I've just read that back to myself. I'm a fucking perv!!

Length? You get a bit more if you stick your finger up my teatowel holder.

Edit - I just remembered another. On a sleeper train to Madrid giving the missus one from behind and watching the countryside pass by. If we'd checked the timetable we would have been prepared for the platform full of people getting an eyefull as we stopped in, I think, Lleida.

Another Edit. The Jacuzzi in what is now the Dortmund CenterParc, dunno how I forgot that one. It was closing time, we were the last ones there, and one of the Pool Meisters came round and asked me if would mind swimming through the tunnel to close the gate to the outside, and not - as I was expecting - if I would mind taking my cock out of my missus.

Yet Another Edit. How could I forget these? In the water about 20 foot from the beach in Ibiza with pedalos going past, and the following day on the rocks looking out over the sea and waving back to the boat full of cheering chavs merrily sailing past.
(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 20:02, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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