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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, ... 1

This question is now closed.

I've lived an uneventful life
Well it's the first time I've ever replied to a QotW, but thought I'd share some of my experiences...

Up until the age of 20, nothing notable really happened. you know, just the run of the mill indoors type stuff - spit roasting your best mate's missus and then banging his sister etc.

When I was 20, I moved from the UK to Tenerife. It seems that a combination of sun, alcohol, tourists, money and IT skills can get you into all sorts of situations which you would not normally find yourself in. It also results in you finding yourself in the company of people who you would not expect to have been.

When I first arrived in Tenerife, I was rather shy. My weekends were spent with my work colleagues getting rather pissed up in the Puerto Colón area of Las Americas where I always seemed to end up in Hoppers Scottish Karaoke bar - for the owners were Scottish, not the karaoke - drooling at Julie - for that was her name - the rather pretty 19 year old bar maid.

Julie was - and probably to this day still is - a rather attractive young lady, the innocent girl-next-door face coupled with a slim build and fantastic jugs would have me dribbling into my pints of Tequila-Vodka-Redbull all night. In fact the sight of her in her bikini the following lunchtime was the only thing that could cure my hangover. And send me scuttling off to find somewhere I could hide my boner.

But enough about Julie, as apart from seeing her in her bikini, I never got anywhere, not a sticky finger, not even a sniff. a damn shame. I only wanted to remenice about her and her fantastic funbags for a moment...

Ah, so where was I heading with this story... In late 99/00/early 01 I was working for a tiny web development agency out in Tenerife, getting blitzed outsideof work and putting a grand scheme together to turn our little web design business into an all powerful on-line travel agency. Being rather good at that kind of stuff resulted in me getting a rather nice salary.

This rather nice salary resulted in me having a rather nice convertible sports car, a rather nice place wardrobe of clothes, and a great place to live.

The money was flying in at this point - the small web design jobs of 99 were now being handled by my own web design studio, I had an off-shoot project at webcam-sex.com (long gone now) where I was streaming live video and pre-recorded video to subscribers. Hell, I was even filming the much we used to show. Iit was basically a pornographic version of Big Brother. Obviously, you can't do a Big Brother type show in a 2 bed terraced house. Luckily, I was renting a villa with 9 bedrooms, a pool, a jacuzzi, a bar and stage with poles for dancing around in the basement.

For those of you who know Tenerife, you may well know the small resort of Callao Salvaje. For those of you who may know Callao Salvaje, you may recall Club Cleopatra's - what was a well known bothel (because it was a brothel and well known). This is where my expanding porn empire was based. I don't know if anyonbe can find info on it, but it's now a private villa. The place was amazing - the bedrooms had circular beds, the ceilings had mirrors above the beds, the headboards were mirrors and the lampshades built in to the far wall was made out of mirror.

They also housed CCTV cameras!

I will eventually get to the point of this rather long post...

As August 2001 approached, the online travel agency raised €5m in venture capital. The highlife was upon us.

I was now regularly holding parties at the villa which would go on for 24 hours, the local ex-pat girls would come round, they'd be on the poles, in the pool, in the jacuzzi and more importantly in my bed. Just how you want to spend your early twenties.

On one occassion, having been woken up by a young girl trying to climb into my bed, who wasn't up to my required standard, I booted her out and relocked my door, placing a heavy piece of furniture against it to foil her attempts to get back in. This, however, left me with a slight problem, I couldn't get to the bog. "I know!" I thought to myself, "I'll climb out of the window" so I did. I used the small roof of the porch beneath my bedroom, to get to the window of the room my visiting brother was staying in, where he was riding the village bike, who I shall refer to as Emma (because that's her name). Emma was grinding away on top of my little brother, so I hoped through the window, said "Morning" and went for a slash in the bathroom. I don't think either my brother or Emma had been expecting that, as Emma froze, baps out (and very pert) in front of me. I then used the same route to get back to my room, only this time Emma covered herself up.

A few weeks later, I was sat outside a bar in Callao Salvaje, when my Dad came over to visit. We were sippin chilled beers and just watching the world go by. Emma approached, stopped to say hello as we were mates by this time. I introduced my father to Emma, then turned to my Dad and said “Dad, this is Emma. The one James was shagging when I leapt through his window!”. Emma went red and fled inside the pub.

On other occassions, I would take the cast of webcam-sex up into the mountain range of Tenerife to get some alfresco shooting done in the Parque nacional del Teide. As you do.

I had recruited a lad who was know locally as Dougal to be my male star. He was paid pitifully for his services, and only got extras such as Viagra if and when he needed it. Dougal had to make up his income selling tickets on the beaches to tourists for the booze-cruise which ran weekly. Remind me to tell you the story about Dougal and Viagra.

We also had another ex-pat on the 'team'. She was a total skank. Covered in tats from shoulder to toe, an unhealthy addiction to Charlie and no tits. God, she was foul. After she'd split with her husband (I suspect he fell off a boat, wearing concrete boots), she started stripping to make money, down at the Veronicas area of Playa de las Americas.

Additionally, we had a Lithuanian girl on the team. I shall call her "Sophie", just in case anyone she knows or who knows her reads this and thinks to themselves "Sounds just like Andrea, aprt from this one is called Sophie". So Andrea, sorry "Sophie", was a gorgeous east European - about 5'3", long curly brown hair, beautiful breasts, a peachy arse, big brown eyes and a ery tidy clout. I once spit roasted her and then filmed my mate Paul shoving a Coca-Cola bottle up her.

Anyway, on one Saturday afternoon, I drove up in to the hills, from which you could see the Reina Sophia airport to the left, all the way to Las Americas on the right, with Dougal, Andrea and Steph (an ex-hooker who was in charge of finding brassers to film).

We found a secluded area amongst the pines and rocks, and within minutes, Dougal and Andrea were getting it on. Strangely, I never actually was tempted to join in, or ever actually got wood, while I filed these masterpieces. Anyway, I digress, I was filming the two of them and heard a dog barking in the distance. I looked across to where we had parked and saw a tour bus pull up.

I carried on filming, catching as many great angles as I could, getting the "oohs" and "ahs" etc and thought there was a good place for myself and Steph to disappear behind.

I slipped the camera focus to a zoomed out setting so it would capture everything in the are we were in, and sloped off behind a rock and indicated for Steph to join me.

Stephanie, joined me, got down next to me, her breasts rubbing against my arm. I put my finger to her lips to "shush" her. I could see a look of anticipation on her eyes. I knew that she wanted me and that all of the shagging turned her on. She leant in closer, pressed her breasts against me even more, so I put my arm around her and pulled her in tight. Just as the German tourists walked straight passed where Dougal was pounding Andrea. I only know a bit of German, but I understood that they were surprised. Obviously not as surprised as Dougal and Andrea who were now trying to cover themselves up!

After the Germans departed, myself and Steph reappeared and after a good laugh, filming continued.

I didn't give Steph any cock, BTW, if that's what you were all thinking. I'd merely not wanted us to get caught filming those two!

Another occasion, it was a Sunday night, I think we were 13 nights in to filming, Dougal turned up, and couldn't get it up. We filled him with Viagra, four large tablets if I recall correctly, but after an hour he/it still wouldn't function. So we cancelled filming that night and myself and Steph went to the local garage to get pissed, because for some reason in Tenerife, every petrol station has a bar.

I'd often thought about slipping Steph a portion, but I couldn't bring myself to sleep with a hooker, albeit an retired one (and she was only 25, she'd made her money$).

So the next day, I was back in my normal office, doing the travel agency stuff, joking that I'd have to fill in as stunt-cock, should Dougal not be able to function that evening, when the phone rang.

It was Dougal. It was working.
It was working too well.

Apparently, he'd been selling tickets on Playa de las Americas to lots of girls, most of them topless, when he started to feel some stirring. He decided to whip off his t-shirt and tucked it down the front of his shorts to disguise his now throbbing member as he tried to keep his cool and finish off selling tickets to the group of girls he was talking to. One of the girls had spotted his bulge appearing and had grabbed his t-shirt, tugging it and also pulled down his shorts as she grabben the t-shirt. There was Dougal, almost naked, in front of a group of girls, with a viagra fuelled knob and no way of getting rid of it. I think I spent five minutes rolling around in tears as he recalled that story.

Moving on... Being an attention whoring bastid, I wanted my website to be top of the search engines, so set about promoting it far and wide. It was Dougal's other boss, Lee Jones, who actually provided me with some great advertising. I was introduced to page 3 bint Lindsey Dawn Mackenzie, by Lee. I also met her sister Alison and Lindsey's mate, who's name I can't remember. All I can remember is that she spoke with a really strong London accent and sucked her teeth. And she wanted to ride me.

So, here was my ticket to promoting my website further. It was organised that one evening, Linds and Alison would get their tits out with any tourist who would pay us 2 mil (or £8 in English money) and the punter would get a polaroid in return.

Later that evening, I was stood outside Yates's bar in the Starco's area, with loads of blokes looking at me, wondering how I'd got these two girls with me. The girls had spotted it too and they were both enjoying the attention. Alison then whispered to her sister and then they both asked me who I thought had the best jubblies. Not wanting to hurt their feelings, I said I didn't know. So at that point they put one my hands on one of each of their breasts – I could have down with more hands – and had a good grope. The other blokes in the area were really looking now and the girls were really enjoying the attention. I've never really been an attention seeker, so I got bored of their antics after a while and just ignored them.

Those two actually came and stayed at the villa shortly after Lindsey had got married. This gave the opportunity to get the webcam site some page 3 endorsement. Photos were taken of them both semi naked etc. Jobs a good'un. I went back to ignoring them. They didn't like this and would walk through the villa in various states of undress to get some attention. It'd start of in bikini's, then topless, then naked. Apart from their friend who didn't get her puppies out as far as I recall.

One afternoon, I got bored of listening to them talking about nothing, so pushed Lindsey into the swimming pool while she was trying to show off a ridiculously expensive watch. I then scarpered while weeping tears of laughter from my face. I decided to chill in the bar/club area and had a beer but was soon discovered by Lindsey's mate, who wanted me to join her. I fobbed her off and I then went upstairs. A quick shuffle later, I was laying naked under a sheet when the same girl came in. She tried to get under the sheet, but I told her to bugger off. Why? God knows! It was on tap and I told her to piss off! I could have shagged her senseless, but instead I'd settled for having a Tommy. I've often wondered since then what it would be like to sleep with a black girl as I've never done it. White girls - check, latin girls - check, black girls – never. Damn. That was a missed opportunity.

After that, I did meet a very pretty Scottish girl, from Edinburgh. If you look in an encyclopaedia for the word “beautiful”, you would find her picture. Slim, about 5'4”, long, shiney blonde hair, legs to die for and a gorgeous rack. Everything was perfect and she gave me a blowie, just outside my place. I fell in love with her on our first date. Which she asked me out on. I often think about her. She'd be about 31 now. 32 on September 3rd this year. Her name is Madeline, although she told everyone that it was Kim. Last time I saw her was when I put her on a one way flight to Barcelona. Why did she feel the need to tell me that before she had met me she had been working as a prostitute? Should anyone out there know a Madeline, from Edinburgh, who'll be 32 on September 3rd this year, and have a sister called Kim, tell her I said “Hello”.

So there you have it, a few accounts of bits and pieces I got up to in Tenerife.

But that's not where my stories stop. I once went out with a girl in Tunbridge Wells, who we'll call Suzie – to protect the innocent er... no, her name really was Suzie. And she's a psycho. Suzie has got massive norks. Probably about 34JJ. She also breeds Weimeraners, which are crazy dogs, just like Suzie. Anyway, one afternoon, out in the the garden of England, Suzie started feeling frisky. She pulled me to the side, grabbed at my jeans and began sucking me off. Not bad. She then told me to get on the floor, at which point she revealed that she wasn't wearing any underwear (that explains why I could smell Tuna all day), she climbed on top and starting riding away. Suzie was a real gusher. She would come within seconds of me entering her and would continue to do so at the slightest of touches. She wasn't even quiet about it either. She would often lean towards me and scream which I found deafening, so I would on occasion ask her to face away while she rides on top. This turned out to be the best timing ever. Suzie was riding away, gushing everywhere, but facing away, she would always close her eyes when she was having an orgasm. That explains how she failed to notice the group of walkers heading our way and passed right by us until one of them spoke. I personally found this hilarious as they couldn't see me, but as one walker tried to berate us for our behaviour, one of Suzie's dogs thought that they were going to attack us, so chased the walkers away. The dog wouldn't stop, so Suzie ended up chasing after the dog, still trying to put her massive tits away as I slid away and pulled my shorts and jeans back up.

It was also with Suzie, whilst in Thasos, that I was slipping her a length on the balcony of our apartment when the maid walked in. I don't understand any Greek, but she didn't stick around long. Shame really, as from what I'd seen of her around the complex, I'd have actually enjoyed getting her to join in. Or just f'ing Suzie off altogether to enable me to sort out the maid.

Instead, I took Suzie down to the sea and spaffed my load inside her down there.

Chloe – another pyscho – I slipped her one in a tight space. Not her poop-shoot. Well, not in public, but that's another story. I took her down to Stoke Bardolph, in Notts, and gave her a proper seeing to in the back of her new Fiesta. I'm still not sure if she worked out it was a dogging hotspot.

I also filled her on loads of occasions at her parent's place, while they were in the next room, or got her to suck me off in the garden while her parents were in view through the window. My favourite though, was getting Chloe to suck me off while I, unbeknownst to her, was watching her sister change, through the window. As soon as she was fully unclothed I felt the urge to empty my nads, as I was only seeing Chloe to get to her sister. So I pulled out of Chloe's mouth and shot into her face, hair and down her tits. Her face was one of thunder as she would have to pass through the room where her parents were sitting in order to get to the bathroom to sort herself out. I simply went back inside the house, helped myself to one of her dad's beers and sat there chatting with her parents as if nothing had happened.

I should be ashamed of myself, I know. But take mind that I won't ever do it again as I'm a cop now so I have to behave. I even have to turn down propositions.

As if I do! And yes, I do often use my handcuffs!

I'm off to Alton Towers on Saturday with a filthy nurse, so I need some suggestions on where is good for outdoor fun there, if anyone has any.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 16:58, 26 replies)
I've had more public sex that you've had hot dinners...
and you're all fatties!
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 16:56, 7 replies)
Tick list of acheivement ;-)
Well I'm sure I could embellish each with the tale of how etc but that may take some time.

So I'll start with a list of some of the more memorable "outdoor pursuits" and if anyone want's details I'll edit later!


- Train carriage (NOT THE TOILET!) on platform 8 of Euston station while waiting for the train to set off home!
- An open canoe shelter by the Grand Union Canal in Milton Keynes.
- Embankment overlooking a dual carriageway in Central Milton Keynes
- The Armada Beacon, Cambell Park, Milton Keynes
- Band Stand, Caldecotte Lake, Milton Keynes
- 18th Hole of Watford Municipal Golf course!
- 3 hour BJ in middle of Cassiobury Park, Watford. (as per replies, it was shit!)
- Pub Garden Table, while the pub was open somewhere near Bletchley(?)
- DeMontfort University (MK) Student Union Cafeteria
- A field just outside Stony Stratford (after a very horny hunt for somewhere quiet!)
- An ex-GF's mums dining room
- Brickhill Wood (with ramblers obliviously walking by)
- Bonnet of a Seat Ibiza outside holiday complex in Fueteventura
- In the waves of a beach on Fuerteventura
- The Armoury room of Deal Castle!
- Alton Towers 1: Great Dining table under stained glass window of old ruined Alton Manor House
- Alton Towers 2: On the roof of the same old ruined manor, holding the door shut as people came up the stairs!
- Bird Hide, Walton Park Nature Reserve, Milton Keynes during my lunch hour.
- My office desk (shared office), the Open University (not during my lunch hour!)
- Resevoir near Aberystwyth
- Back of a Renault Kangoo, doing 70mph on M4 near Cardiff!
- Getting stuck in an Escort van, after "getting stuck in" in the same van, Willen Lake, Milton Keynes. With some perve flashing his headlights at us.

I can recall numerous others with sketchy details, picnic spots, parked cars etc. It's weird, never would have believed I'd done all this until I tried listing them from memory!
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 15:48, 19 replies)
After being reassured that my location counts as public...
...it was on the deck of a cruise ship in the middle of the Ocean. Visualise the most picturesque night sky occasionally fractured by lightenning bolts with not a drop of rain in sight. The man that had become my holiday romance (and now a dear friend) looked up from under me and I thought what a perfect moment it was to be alive.

What puts a dampner on the story somewhat is the fact that we had neglected to tell eachother it was both our first times (teenagers on a boat, go figure!). We sort of exchanged glances of 'Well, now what the fuck do we do?'. The answer was get dressed sharpish as the 'wall' I thought we were concealed behind suddenly lit up to reveal they were infact the gym windows. I'm still not sure just how much the cleaner saw but luckily it was the last night so it didn't really matter

Still sore from earlier pop
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 15:39, Reply)
Not just the earth moved.
It`s dark.
Theres not much light.
Theres no body else in there.
It`s the early nineties.
Me, and my italian bird.
The london Planetarium back row.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 15:33, Reply)
in which berk experiences the joys of outdoor lovin’…
First post (and it's a long one!) please be gentle…

(wavy lines back to summer 2003)

It was late summer, and some friends and I decided to bid farewell to our college years in style; one last halcyon week before departing our various ways to various towns and cities across the UK to go to uni. Alright, alright…less of the Enid Blyton, we spent a week on the piss in Newquay. Classy, no?

we’d taken a chalet which was more or less on the beach; it was self catered, and the beach itself had a pub – we barely even needed to move in order to supply ourselves with that studenty ambrosia which is strongbow…although as a group we would invariably traipse up the town for the evening and get pissed there. (in retrospect I suspect this was more an opportunity to visit Newquay’s fine array of takeaways than to get drunk…it’s surprising how many places hang up when you slur ‘yesh, we’d like it delivered to the beach, pleashe’, no matter how legitimate a request this may be…)

Anyway, I digress.
The group included my then-fucktoy, a sweet and innocent lad whom I had taken it upon myself to deflower, reasoning it my civic duty not to allow him to go to uni a virgin. Around 5 of us had been in town (read ‘pub’) for most of the day when it became apparent we’d lost our friends somewhere. Being sex-crazed teens it was instantly decided that this would be an opportune time to jump on each other. What with sharing a chalet with 8 other people, and possessing a modicum of respect for our friends (not to mention self-restraint) we hadn’t viciously abused each other for a whole…gosh, three days?

We staggered back to the chalet, pawing at each other’s clothes, to discover – horror upon horror! – that most of our friends were already back. Having, shall we say…worked up an appetite, there was no way we couldn’t, so…
You know those moments of genius and clarity that you have, where you can actually believe there is a lightbulb going ‘ting!’ above your head? This was not one of those moments. It was dark, it was late. More importantly, it was the actual seaside, with actual sea. And tides. ‘let’s have sex outside’, says he.
‘ok!’ I readily agreed.

Ripping our clothes off a la clark kent, (only chubbier, geekier and uglier), we soon got down to business. I complained about the wet sand digging in to my back, so the boything took one for the team and I went on top. Did I mention it was late, and dark, and I was drunk? Cue much giggling, falling off and rolling about. On wet sand…

when I got back on, it was as if he’d flung away the innocent prophylactic and sheathed himself in sandpaper. Howling like a happy-slapped mong, I leapt off and ran to rinse my now burning ladypart in the ocean. I missed my footing on some rocks, fell over in the sea and came up retching, not knowing which way was up and convinced I was dying. The boything, having established in his drink-sodden brain that leaping off his beef truncheon and running away shrieking was not my usual response to a bit of action, came to see what the matter was. He missed his footing on the same rocks and fell, only this time the tide was on the out, and he twatted his head on the rocks and knocked himself spark out.

I then had to drag him back to the chalet, one of us bleeding and both of us pretty much naked, drunk and sore. It is not possible, under these conditions, to sneak in to a chalet leaving your friends unaware.

suffice to say, I spent the remainder of the holiday sober and haven’t really felt the need to indulge in a bit of al fresco action since…
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 14:54, 7 replies)
Hmm, sounds like a challenge.

need something really spectacular.


Edit: Pop!
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 14:09, 6 replies)
I found that having sex in a public place is a lot easier when you have a big pregnancy bump... No one expects you to be naughty when you're 8 months.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 13:54, 5 replies)
On a works outing in a coach. We were heading back to the hotel after a day of teambuilding, then dinner, then heavy drinking. We were in the countryside: it was pitch black and stormy with vivid lightning but strangely no rain.

Part way back Steve from Accounts runs up to the driver: "Can you stop please, we're dying for a piss." Driver says ok and pulls in. About a dozen blokes jump out, followed by Sue from Customer Service. They all head off to a barn by the side of the road.

I'm staring out the window in an alcohol-induced stupor when there's a sudden flash of lightning. In a split second the light fades , leaving the image of a line of blokes having a piss against a barn burnt into my retina, plus the unmistakeable silhouette of a Customer Service agent giving a blow job to an Accountant.

The whole bus cheered.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 12:24, 1 reply)
It all started last autumn
I told you lot how I met Jason at work and how we got acquainted. He moved in with me and the kids just after Christmas and things are looking really good. In fact I hardly ever look on b3ta these days as there's so much else to distract me. This question did tickle me a bit though and here's why...

It was last November, the kids were at school and Jason and I decided to take a day off together to just spend at my place and chill. He stayed over quite a bit, but was still a bit uncomfortable with the kids about and couldn't fully relax, if you know what I mean. The only problem was that there was an important meeting in his department that morning that he would have to dial in to. It was from 9.00 to 10.00 so I told him to not worry about it. I'd make a nice, late breakfast for the two of us and bring it in for him while he was on the phone.

So, there I was, the kids had gone off and I went to have a nice shower. I was feeling nice and relaxed but a little bit mischievous, which is why I decided to have a little shave while I was in the shower. Then I thought I'd have a bit more of a shave. Oh sod it, let's shave the lot off! I giggled as I put on my soft white towelling dressing-gown and went down to the kitchen to make some coffee. It was just nine o'clock and in the living-room at the back of the house, I could hear Jason on the phone, then the idea came to me. While the coffee was brewing I nipped back upstairs and put on what you might call a naughty maid outfit. I put on stockings, some sexy lingerie, a black woollen mini-skirt, a thin white blouse with the top three buttons undone and some fairly high heels. Then I put the coffee on a tray and carried it in to Jason who had some papers spread out on the coffee table in front of the sofa he was sitting on.

He did a bit of a double-take as I shimmied in and nearly lost the thread of his conversation as I did a Benny Hill - bending over with legs slightly apart to put the coffee tray down in front of him, virtually sticking my arse in his face. He could certainly see that I had stockings on and ran his hand up my inner thigh. Then I turned and gave him a view of my cleavage as I poured the coffee for him and I could see the bulge in his trousers growing by the second. I decided it was time to really put him off his stride so I stood up and slowly unbuttoned my blouse and let it fall to the ground, then I put one foot up on the sofa next to him, pulled my skirt up to my hips and started rubbing myself gently. He was clearly distracted as he had to look away and join in with the discussion again but I was not to be put off. This time I turned away from him and slowly lowered my panties, bending lower and lower. When they were off, I turned slowly so that he could see the full effect of my morning shave.

Now he seemed to be having difficulty breathing, let alone taking part in a conversation. I sat down on the sofa, leaned agaisnt the side cushions, one foot on the floor, the other on his shoulder as I slowly brought myself off. By this point he'd loosened his trousers and pulled them off though he was studiously not touching his raging hard-on as he tried to carry on the conversation on the phone. I was amazed at his self-control, and couldn't match it, I shifted round and lay my head in his lap so that I could lick his nut-sack slowly, I really wanted to suck him off then and there but wanted to prolong the agony as long as possible. With a slow lick right up the shaft I got up, nealt either side of his legs and lowered myself onto him. I was as wet as scuba-diver's armpit and he slid in as if he was greased.

From the conversation I could tell the meeting was winding up which was just as well as my slow bouncing on his cock was making him breathe faster and harder. "Er, I've got to go now folks. See you tomorrow." he said desperately as he hit the disconnect button on his phone.

"Oh God, yeah,"

"Fuck me hard."

Or rather we thought he'd hit the disconnect button. He'd actually hit the speaker-phone button by mistake, which we realised when we could hear: "Jase, are you still there?" coming from the sofa next to us as he buried his head in my cleavage and shot his load and I groaned with pleasure.

The next day at work was a little embarrassing, but not too much.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 12:24, 17 replies)
Becky gazed around the darkened room. There they were, Vipros, Bertmonkeyspunk, Kaol, Clendrix, TBG, Spankyhanky, Pooflake, Devil in tights, Labia Majora, Empress Bob, Ancrenne, Davros' Grandad, Chickenlady, PJM, Wellgroomed wookie, Tourettes, Madam Marlboro, Althegeordie...and a few others she didn't recognise. All of them inebriated and in differing states of undress.

Despite the ratio of boys to girls, everyone looked like they were having a good time, especially Al and Bert, who it can safely be said suck for England.

Becky wondered where to join in and settled instead on a velvet cushion near the sweaty throng. She spied Spankyhanky receiving a blowjob from one of the unknown b3tans and ambled over to say hello.

Sadly Spanky was just at the point of no return and turning to greet her, unleashed a torrent of manfat that Spiderman would have been proud of. Becky slowly drowned in his juices until Clendrix wiped her clean and made her a cup of tea.

Yep, that's what really happens at B3ta bashes. Now who's coming along to Devil in tights' stag do?
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 12:18, 8 replies)
by name and by nature
Picture the scene, a dreary nightshift on a dying newspaper in the Athens of the North with only the lowing of the farming subs to keep us awake until the pub break at midnight.

Then enter Kenny with a tale that kept us entertained until we got across to the Jingler for a strong continental lager or three.

He had passed, in a shop doorway, two gentlemen enjoying each other's company in the manner of the Biblical settlement of Sodom. The best bit was that "the bottom" was determinedly holding onto ... a doner kebab.

Cue gags aplenty about meat content and tossing salad.

The hungry lad could not have chosen a more appropriate street for chilli sauce related houghmagandy: it was Cockburn Street.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 12:04, 5 replies)
It started when PJM stuffed us in the back of his Golf. Fuck me, that boy can party like its nineteen-fucking-ninety-nine, and us three pussies just couldn't keep up.

I remember my head resting on Pooflakes lap. I was drunk and my mouth lolled open, Pooflake stoked my head and said:

"It's going to be ok, Spanky..."

I said: "Err... are you getting a stiffy, Mr Flake?"

He shook his head, "No - my cock is naturally always a little bit hard. Its a curse and a gift, mate. My baby batter is constantly on full spurt alert, just in case, you never know when I might find a young lady drunk or mentally retarded enough to let me have a go at her innards."

At this juncture, with PJM hurtling down the road, Chart Cat woke up a little and said:

"Fellas, I think I've just shat myself."

PJM slammed on the brakes.


"Right, get out! I can put up with the filth that comes out your mouths but the stuff that comes out your arses is another thing altogether!"

And he leaves us, stranded, by the side of the road.

"Fuck me, looks like we're gonna have to walk," said Chart Cat. "Do you fellas wanna here about my threesome?"

"Erm, no thanks - I don't think I fancy doing a technicolour yawn just now," said Pooflake.

Moments later a VW camper van pulls up, beeps the horn. As a group we look inside.

"Fuck me!" says I. "Are you the Canadian Womens Water Polo Team on tour in the UK?"

And they say: "Yes!" Bobbing and bursting in all the right places. "You boys need a lift?"

"Yes, please - I love it when a lady gives me a hand," said Chart Cat, as we clambered into the van.

But no sooner had we pulled away than one of the water polo team pulls out a gun.


"Right, boys. We wanna see some fucking or we'll have to shoot you! Go on, get down to it," and she edges forward.

Not being too shy about these things I immediately pull down Pooflakes kegs and get to work on the hearty meal of his meat and two veg.

The water polo team look on, captivated, as Chart Cat, feeling a little squelchy down below in the bumhole area, stands and slides down his pants.

The smell is overpowering.

"Well, at least you won't need to lube me up, Spanks - go on then, get on with it. I know you won't last too long, anyway..." says the Cat, positioning himself on the seat with all the poise and grace of a drunken cunt whos just shat himself.

I kiss Pooflake's lovely bell end a bit longer, developed quite a taste for it, really. Then I move over, slide off my jeans, and enter Chart Cat roughly from behind - and, indeed, the shit smearing his cheeks makes for super-easy access (though I reckon he was pretty damn turned on too).

"Might as well get this over with quickly," says Pooflake, moving behind me, sliding his rod of iron up my chocolate starfish, tickling my prostate from the inside with all the skill and grace of a gorilla wearing lipstick.

And we daisy chain fuck, grunting and whimpering, crying with a strange mix of pain and ecstacy, Pooflake and I taking it in turns for the classic reachround, jiggling Chart Cat's hairy plums and milking his todger like a pair of sweaty, fucked-up Armenian milkmaids.

Then, as one, we cum. And the smell of salty hot manjuice floods the small confines of the van.

Then we dress and sit looking at the girl with the gun and the rest of the Canadian water polo team.

"There you go," says Chart Cat. "You happy now?"

And the girl puts down her gun:

"Ermm.... I meant you had to fuck US, not EACH OTHER..."

They dropped us off at the next service station, and we swore never to mention this night again.

DISCLAIMER: See Pooflakes post below for the reasoning behind this shite. Grrrr Tigers; you are a very strange lady indeed...
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 11:55, 23 replies)
my only talent
places i've given the missus a hand (it's my only deity given talent)

three times on the flight to antigua

a packed replacement coach service from euston, she finished thirty seconds before we arrived at the destination

numerous occasions on the A40 between gloucester and burford, while in transit. I've got an automatic, so i only need my right hand to steer leaving lefty free to work his magic

woo, first post, 'ave it
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 11:30, 1 reply)
Three (Million)’s a crowd…

“So…here we are then. How do we get this started?” asked Spanky in nervous anticipation.

“Well”, I muttered, “… in order to qualify for the QotW, whatever we do, it has to be ‘in public’…”

Chart cat then pointed out to me that we were in fact lying on the floor together, having sneaked onto the centre spot at Wembley Stadium before an England game, in front of a capacity 90,000 people, that our antics were being beamed live to 250 countries worldwide, and that we had about 30 seconds to sort something out before the psycho security would have us arrested and torn fresh new arseholes.

“Is this ‘public’ enough for you, dick brain?” He asked.

"Oh…yeah…silly me” I said, trying desperately to make a good impression…

“Right then, let’s kick off!” cheered Spanky enthusiastically.

My chortle at his punnage was cut dramatically short by utter speechlessness, when Spanky grabbed his trollies by the belt buckle and heaved them down to the ground in one swift motion, setting free his wrinkly orchestra, and as his conductor’s baton wafted in the early summer breeze, the big screen lit up the image, and a few of the St Johns Ambulance people fainted by one of the corner flags.

”Ah, I see you’ve ‘gone commando’ “I whisper with admiration and raised eyebrows before continuing “So have I…”

“No you haven’t!”, shouted Spanky, “…you’ve spent all day without any clothes on at all from the waist down! – That’s not what ‘commando’ is all about!”

Oh…” I mutter sheepishly.

Chart cat then interrupted: “Erm…ok guys, although I kind of get what’s going on here” he said with a trembling voice, “what I don’t understand is why we can’t have any actual girls with us…”

“Silly chart cat!” exclaimed Spanky. “My fulsome fish tanks just don’t pack enough baby gravy for any more than two people, and I’ve even been on special, 'spunk growing' tablets too…just for this!”

“Fair enough!” said CC, as he swiftly de-bagged and then gracefully swung his designer label Y-fronts around his head, to chants of delight from the VIP section of the crowd.

“How’s this for a ‘Royal Box’?” declared chart cat, thrusting his ample package at Prince Phillip, and watching gleefully as his highness tries to gouge his own eyes out with a ‘Pot Noodle’ fork.

As they stood before me, side by side in various states of arousal, I exclaimed: "Crikey, I’ve never seen a duo of dangling dongs like that before…and I’ve been to Holland!”

“You’ve been to Holland & Barrett”, said chart cat derisively. “It’s not quite the same…”

‘Still’, I thought to myself, ‘a deal’s a deal’, and I grimaced with pride as I donned my weapons grade marigold rubber gloves and attempted to display my best technique to the watching millions, by galloping frothily up and down their respective shafts like a pole dancer…only with two poles.

After a few seconds they were both to ‘take-an-eye-out’ standards of rigidity, and Spanky selflessly decided that it was time for me to be the ‘receiver’ in this game of ‘Hide the half-Italian Sausage”

Displaying excellent teamwork, chart cat cleverly dropped a 10p piece on the floor, knowing that I would bend over rapidly and instinctively to pick it up...Of course, the very instant my clammy barking spider was projected in the air, Spanky was on it like Gary Glitter at the ‘Pre-teen Thai Queen 2009’ awards.

”Buggeration, Pooflake,” cried Spanky, barely able to contain his delight as he pumped away vigourously. “I always knew you were a tight-arse, but I wasn’t expecting this! Don’t ‘cough’ or anything, because you could snap my tadger off!”

I was finding it difficult to reply however, because my mouth was filled to the tonsils with cat-cock. As I gobbled like the veritable clappers, I closed my eyes and hoped that I didn’t get a ‘hair ball’…

As Spanky continued grinding away, he then motioned to chart cat that there was ‘Room round the back’. CC duly took the hint, slipped in delicately behind, and before long we were all thrusting back and forth in perfect harmony, the whole shameful scenario was reminiscent of a kinky, ‘cocks-akimbo’ conga line.

Ever the showman, Spanky even lifted his legs out from side to side occasionally, to demonstrate how he was being held in the air simply by the linkage power of our sex-snorkels, like a sort of ‘knob entwined daisy chain’.

Due to their slim, lithe, well toned bodies, the two behemoths of B3ta were both able to genourously dish out the wrist-action reach-around for my personal titilation, and placed one hand each on my twitching, semi redundant but ever eager phallus.

Gripping hard, they slipped up and down my proud pink pork-pudding, and the romance of the situation was only mildly disturbed by a moment when chart cat entangled his pubes with Spanky’s ample arse cress.

“You really should shave that” advised chart cat helpfully. Spanky ignored him.

Obviously, all three of us are hardly famous for our stamina, and inevitably, in a sweaty and mongish mish-mash of man-meat, hairy crevices and unused plastic weapons of ‘ass destruction’, we soon began to look like a combined representation of ‘Epileptics Anonymous’ as we collectively spasmed and shot our beef-bazooka bolts high into the air in unison like a filthy fireworks display.

Suddenly, what seemed like the whole centre circle was awash with a tsunami of tadpole-tastic taramosalata as we all tried to wring out each others last droplets of splooge whilst trying to ‘out grunt’ each other like a gaggle of female tennis players competing in ‘Hog-idol’

Then finally, mutually satisfied and gasping for breath, we collapsed into a festering fleshy heap, and as we lay there, spent, shaking and spaffed out with enough wanton willy wallpaper paste to fill a family-sized salad cream jar, we gazed over to the hoards of security men sprinting towards us with their bulbous trouncheons callously set to ‘clobberin’ time’…

“Well, that was nice...” whimpered chart cat, ”…but I can hear PJM honking the horn of his Golf GIT*...it might be time to go…”

“What, AGAIN?” wheezed Spanky in disbelief before continuing: “For fuck’s sake!...You’re gonna have to give me 5 minutes…and a jazz mag…”

Then as the cheers of the crowd, players, and various heads of state rang out in appreciation, we all spotted something in the distance…

Sprinting in front of the rampaging security stampede, we could just about make out the petite shape of CHCB, about 50 feet away from us, waving frantically in our direction, fumbling at her blouse and shouting:

“Don’t start without me, boys!”

Disclaimer: On an earlier post, Grrrrr Tigers had dared to wonder what it would be like if chart cat, Spanky & I were to have a threesome. This was my answer.

*Edited for continuity purposes...now please read about 'what happened next' with Spanky's post above...
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 11:16, 32 replies)
A warning...

Be careful what you wish for, B3ta...


My reply to follow.

Those easily offended are on the wrong fucking site...
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 11:08, 8 replies)
Its all about testing the water...

...and trying not to loose your cool in this veritable cornucopia of sweet, lovely, marvellous, amazing filth...

"Oohh, you'd look nice in that," I say, reaching for a rather plain looking bra and pants set off the shelf.

Ms Hanky studies it for a moment, "Hmmm." and moves on.

And I do this for a few minutes, being the helpful underwear consultant - I try and molest and rub my filthy paws over every gusset and bra cup in the shop, just knowing that one day, one fateful day, something warm and fuckable is gonna press against where my hands have just been. And all the time I'm doing a spot of girlfriend-sexy-underwear-herding; trying to direct Liz to the utter filth section, working up to the dirtiest, ludest peep-hole bra and crotchless knickers set I can find, the sort of thing that can get a woman pregnant just by looking at it. Eventually, having started on the unsexy Russian shotputter type of gear, I hold up the ultimate utter filth in fabric form and say hopefully: "How about this?" You never know, nothing ventured nothing gained and all that twattery.

Ms Hanky regards it for a moment like I'm holding up the lifeless form of a baby I've just casually raped to death: "I'm looking for a bra for work, Spanky. I work with little kids. That is not really appropriate, is it?" and she walks off.

Leaving me standing in the middle of the lingerie section, sweaty and unshaven, my trembling fingers absently poking through the slit in the crotch of the panties.


This makes me look a bit of a perv, I think.

I follow after Liz. She's got a handful of bras to try on. Apparently she doesn't know the size of her tits - odd, I just hope her breasts never hold up a bank; I could describe them in great detail to a police artist and come up with a remarkably accurate composite photofit.

"I'm going to go and try these on," she says. Seeing I'm pathetically holding the dirty lingerie still, she takes pitty on me and says: "We'll get that too."

I perk up and go a little bit hard. Result!

And off Liz goes to try stuff on, I trail after, watch her disappear into the changing cubicle via the mirror they have up on the wall, and then I hang round outside the changing rooms, trying to feign an interest in the ladies clothes hanging on the racks there. After ten seconds of this and noticing the Gestapo shop guard they have there has pissed off for a fag or something, I amble round the corner, go into the changing area bit, find the correct cubicle - there was only Liz in there - and I tap gently on the thin wooden door...

"Hey!!!" I whisper urgently. And I say as romatically as humanly possible: "Can I come in and play with your cunt for a bit?" Cassanova's got nothing on me.

No response...

"Looking at all this underwear has got me well and truly in the mood for a quickie. How about it?"

I hear her moving round inside, she probably hasn't heard me.

I push open the door slightly and -

...assess the situation...

...and then I take the only sensible option...

...I run...

like the fucking wind.

And hide in the manly man section of the shop, usuing the big winter coats to shield me. It was here I figured out that looking in the mirror for Liz's cubicle fucked up my orentation. What with everything being reversed in the reflection I'd approached the wrong fucking cubicle...

Eventually I see Liz queuing up to pay. I go up and tap her on the shoulder: "I'll be waiting outside," I say, and fuck off sharpish.

And as I'm going out I see her, the girl I've just propositioned. And I put my head down and make my escape Steve McQueen style.

She was tugging onto her mum's sleeve when she saw me, her eyes wide with fear, she very nearly dropped her packet of crisps.

She must've been eight or nine years old...

Attempts at public sex should come with a health warning - its detrimental to your health being buggered in the showers of a prison by a bloke from Brixton named Dwayne...
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 10:46, 11 replies)
A Crafty Hand Shandy turned Nasty
Sex. We all do it. Well, those lucky enough to have partners I guess.. but nobody knows you like yourself so they say, especially when you are a young man exploring yourself intimately, and I found I was in the middle of nowhere, by myself, and feeling incredibly fucking horny, so much so, I thought I was gonna jizz in my pants just from watching pidgeons hump.

Fields as far as the eye could see.. well.. I wasn't hurting anybody, or deliberately exposing myself for a cheap thrill, besides, I wasn't wearing a mack and there were no bushes to fumble in whilst massaging my beef bayonet to anyone unfortunate to be passing by.

My cock had anticipated my next move before my brain had even come up with the idea, and was making a concerted effort to break free from the constraints of my pants and tear through my trousers like a terrier on heat. So there I stood in this field, fumbling with my flies like a nervous teenager...well, actually that's pretty fucking accurate.. knowing what I was doing was 'naughty' and the glorious new found feeling of shooting your man muck, it was on a par to watching an episode of He-man.

I had a quick look through the hedges to see if I could find a discarded copy of The Sun, to tug over page 3 when I hit jackpot ! A copy of Barely Legal 'Nuns Edition', a bit of water damage on the front, but there were still a few pages that were'nt stuck together! I thought my balls would explode there and then.

Seeing the Holiest of Holes spread wide does an amazing thing for a young man, something that you take with you to adulthood, and I found a Nun I liked, put the mag on the grass and literally tore my trousers down like my life depended on it.

Sister Margaret was a right fucking dirty bitch, you could tell by the 12" black dildo shoved up her ringpiece, it was all I could do not to cry out "Hail Mary" as I pounded my shaft hard and fast in the name of the Lord. My bobby's helmet was throbbing, and I could feel that it was time for the floodgates to open, spraying an endless stream of puppy cum all over her fabulous pert tits.

Just as I was about to 'Christen' the goodly Sister with both barrells locked and loaded, I faintly hear what appeared to be a 'bang', followed by a branch from the tree I am stood next to falling to the ground. I opened my eyes, and to my horror was a tractor further down the field, with a rather irate farmer, non too pleased by young men wanking over his crops. So much so, he took it upon himself to shoot at me.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING"! he screamed from 100ft or so away. Personally, I felt that it was pretty obvious, but rather than stick around to argue the point that my belt had snapped and my trousers fell around my ankles and that my cock was stung by nettles so I was rubbing it better.. I decided to run for my life.

Forgetting that my trousers were indeed around my ankles, I hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, almost snapping my stiff cock in the process.

I could hear the tractor rumbling closer, so I moved faster than I ever have in my life.. Did he really shoot that fucking thing at me? Unfortunately yes was the answer. OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT..
Continually echoed through my head as I ran towards the gate, and lept like a gazelle for freedom. Sadly, my belt was flapping in the breeze and as I made the jump..some little gremlin cunt decided it would be hilarious for the belt buckle to catch the gate, which in turn sent me cartwheeling over, cutting my head open and deading my leg.

Ignoring it all, I ran to a nearby wood, and hid until such time that I thought the coast was clear..about 2 hours.

It seems that the farmer stopped giving chase shortly after I bolted.. maybe he found the copy of Barely Legal, and decided to crack one off himself..who knows. I had escaped, and more importantly unrecognized.

Until that is when I picked up the local rag, and saw the front page, the headline read "Local Lad in Lewd Crop Shocker". Apparently police were appealing for witnesses.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 10:35, 1 reply)
During the summer of 2007, myself and a few friends spent the better part of 3 months travelling around the west coast of America. We spent 5 weeks in Berkeley, California before embarking on a road trip which encompassed Santa Cruz, Yosemite National Park, Boade Ghost Town, Las Vegas, San Diego, Los Angeles and Santa Monica before spending 2 weeks in Hawaii. Unfortunately then I had to return to the Emerald Isle to begin work but the lads continued from Hawaii to New York to finish the trip.

Anyway I digress. The story in question happened in Berkeley. We had only arrived about two weeks and were in a bar one night. I spied a cute little redhead at the bar so began drunkenly sleazing on her. My utterly resistable charms seemed to work on her as later that night myself, two friends, new ladyfriend (for the sake of anonymity we'll call her S) and one of her friends went to a frat party together. Im in the back garden chatting away when the lads came over..."Lads will you ever piss off, cant you see I'm trying to get laid here" was S's response. I knew I was onto a sure fire thing. Anyway fast forward a week or so and we'd been at it every opportunity we had gotten. One night, a group of us snuck into the college football stadium for a few late night beers. After a while we started playing "I never" and it came round to my turn. So I promptly dclared "I've never had sex in a football stadium". Of course no-one drank, except me. "Really?" enquired S. "No", I replied, but you know..." as I glanced onto the pitch. She smiled her dirty little smile and I knew I was in there like swimwear.

As we're all getting up to leave, S pulls back on my hand and declares "Eh, we'll catch up with you guys in a bit, we're just...eh...going to...have sex on the pitch. Bye". And off we skipped. And we did. On the goal line. Of a 72,000 seater football stadium. Im also pretty sure that during the act I caught the unmistakable flash of a camera going off but did I care? Did I fuck.

On a side note we also made the beast with two backs that night in the lift of our apartment complex, in the disabled shower of our apartment complex and on the roof of our apartment complex. I had brought my A-game. The title of this story (yes I know its obvious) comes from the next morning when the lads asked if I had done it, and my response was to roar out "TOUCHDOWN!"

As a little after story, completely unrelated, I once pulled a fat bird in a club in Ireland, with the intention of a quick ride down a lane. When it came apparent that was not going to happen, I stated thinking of an escape plan. I lit a smoke to help me think when she asked me for a smoke. I declined and she replied "Please, I'll give you a blow job for a smoke". I thought she was being funny so gave her one for effort. Instead, she drops the smoke on the ground, unzips my pants and goes at it. At the time we were sitting on a bench at the side of the busiest road in Drogheda. So there I was, cigarette in one hand, other hand on her head while people were driving by beeping horns and people were walking by cheering me. I felt like a God. Once the act was over I did the honourable thing, stood up and ran like the dickens. She was a fat bird so couldnt catch up with me. Result.

Length? The whole 9 yards.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 10:13, 2 replies)
first time
I lost my virginity outdoors.
Well, sort of.

My boyfriend at the time decided we should go to our usual play* area, the foundations of a demolished house. We knew that there was a lot of undergrowth at the back of the plot, so we decided to do some heavy-duty snogging.
We found a suitable spot, when Phil(for that was his name) said "look, there's some wood here, let's build a den!" There was indeed wood, so a den we built.
I was putting the finishing touches to the lean-to walls, when Phil said he had to go get something. He buggered off, leaving me to it.
Five minutes later he returned, bearing atop his bonce a stripy mattress, lifted from the abandoned créche down the street. "That's for you to lie on" he said. What a gentleman.
We soon got down to some grade-a fumbling in our little cubbyhole. It was fun, but tame. After a short while, Phil started giggling. "What's so funny?" I asked. "We could do IT in here" he said, between snorts. "Do what?"** I asked. "You know, IT!"
I did know, just about. I poked my head out of our den to make sure no other local kids were around, before agreeing to let him deflower me.

It was hot, sticky, uncomfortable, clumsy and quick. You know, the usual. I can't even say it was the worst i've ever had, because it wasn't.

Phil and I split up very soon after, we never did IT again and we rarely spoke.
5 years later, i heard that Phil had committed suicide due to a bad drugs experience. Crap though our sex life was, i'm glad we had that short time together.

*yes, we really were that young.
**and that naíve
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 3:06, 2 replies)
Not me, but at a party I wasn't invited to.

It was called the e-party, held at one of the many residences at the school I go to. No, not an electronic party like I first thought, but rather an ecstasy party.

Two floors plenteous of people with pupils the size of plates.

My friend comes back, and an odd reason looks into a closet to find two guys there just standing in the dark, looking rather shifty.

He looks at them rather surprised, surveys the seen, and sees that they're both enjoying the pleasure of oral sex.

You may now insert your choice of closet joke.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 2:46, Reply)
One more.
Never attempt your first go at anal with a lady while sharing a room with three other people who are plainly not asleep yet.

The look on her face as she waddled towards the bathroom will stay with me til the grave.

Also, your room-mates will probably overhear the fifteen minutes of begging beforehand.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 2:04, 4 replies)
Oh God.
Thinking back to when I was a younger, more energetic pup, I've realised that where I thought there were few stories locked away in my mind-cupboard, there's actually quite a lot.

Ones like this make me realise why I've repressed so many though.

I was a late starter to alcohol for these parts, abstaining from touching the cheeky-water until I was the grand old age of seventeen. A friend of mine lived with his dad who was away a lot, and so the inevitable parties ensued. It was at one of these parties I consumed my first ever alcoholic drinks...... two half pint mugs of cider, buckfast and irn bru. It was vile. I tried to start a fight and got carried home.

A few weeks later, my love for the demon drink had begun to flourish, and I was mildly pongoed once again in my friend's house. My girlfriend at the time, for some reason, found the sight of me being unable to so much as bite my little finger incredibly sexy, and dragged me into a bedroom for some frantic sweaty mess-making.

Well. It was a bit oif a disaster. Even a half naked blonde guzzling away on the old clotted cream cannon could only raise half mast out of the old boy, as I was completely beyond useless by this point. Unexpectedly though, she didn't go all huffy and storm off, but seemed to get even more, erm, amourous. It was plainly obvious that my (largely girlfriendless virgin) friends were listening to every noise outside the room, as we could hear them giggling away and there was the occasional "Get in amongst her!" shouted through the door. This for me was an odd situation, but my girlfriend was getting louder and louder, rubbing away on top of my chopper like a dog with worms scraping it's arse along a carpet. We were still mostly dressed, but I had unhitched her ample charms earlier on and they were bobbing away in front of my bleary eyes as she moaned louder.... and louder..... and, oh! Yes, it's all happening now. Finally the old chap woke up, I knew he would he's a trooper, and it looked as though I was going to get some rather weird, fairly public action.

Suited me fine by this point.

By now, she had noticed the old luncheon meat truncheon had risen from the grave, and we frantically started drunkenly tugging at what remained of each other's clothes. God I was gagging for it. I'd even stopped noticing my pervy little mates braying at the door..... or at least I had up until one of them burst in.

Now. To say I was a little peeved by this was something of an understatement. Having my first ever drunken bone-a-thon marred by a crazed, sex starved mate bursting in is one thing, having it interrupted by a crazed sex starved mate bursting in, flaccid cock in hand, slurring the words "shag her in front of me, bleeeeugh", your girlfriend screaming and your mate then running crying from the house saying he's going to kill himself because he had been told to fuck off rather abruptly, well, that's quite another.

I spent the rest of the night looking for him, then patching up my other friend who had been jumped by a gang as he looked for him in the other direction. I never did get my drunken fumble that night, though it wasn't soon afterwards I realised the wondrous effect alcohol has on sex.

There's nothing sexier than holding your girlfriends hair while she retches on her fingers trying to make herself sick.

Ah happy times.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 1:56, 2 replies)
Not too shabby for an 18 year old
On a pier/jetty type thing in the middle of the afternoon.
Under a bandstand, with a man looking on in the same afternoon. In my defence, I didn't know he was looking on at the time.

In a field. Full of nettles and thistles. I was fine, but she had many a small prick in her backside, if you'll excuse the tedious pun. From experience, running away from a stereotypical looking farmer, pitchfork included, with your jeans around your kneecaps is not as easy as it looks. Like in that episode of The Simpsons, I was expecting a serious ass-forkin'.

Two sessions of some oral lovin' against a derelict shed in the corner of a park. Caught once. By a local drunk. Was heartily cheered on by local drunk.

On New Years Eve, up against a wall, in the wrong hole with the ex-ladyfriend. Someone shook my hand during. It's probably the closest i'll ever get to having a threesome.
(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 0:32, 1 reply)
My favourite public place
is any disabled toilet - there's usually loads of room, and handles both sides so he can sit down first, you can go on top balls deep, hold on & ride him to your little heart's content..... not classy but very, very effective!
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 22:16, 4 replies)
Inside a tiny, tiny shower in the room my girlfriend rents from an old lady
really only meant to hold one person, I was banging my head on the pipes overhead in our attempts to make room for ourselves(it was in a refurbished basement). We did the dirty and when I shifted my weight to, shall we say, dismount, the floor of the shitty fiberglass shower gave way and I put a gigantic crack through it, cutting my foot on the drain. I weigh less than twelve stone and my girlfriend is a twig, but our combined weight still nears that of a 50 year old Dungeons and Dragons enthusiast with diabetes.

Anyway, I made a stealth escape Solid Snake would be proud of just as the landlord came back home, before she could learn of the illicit things happening in her shower. I do however owe my girlfriend a couple hundred bucks so she can pay for the shower "she" broke.
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 21:42, Reply)
Insurance Sex
I am definitely not going in to details on this one, but the Willis car park in Ipswich when I worked there. And the roof. And the toilets.

Just for the Suffolk folks.
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 20:43, Reply)
I met my love
by the gasworks wall.
Dreamed a dream
by the old canal.
I kissed my girl
by the factory wall.
Dirty old town.
Dirty old town.
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 20:19, 5 replies)

This question is now closed.

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