A couple I knew went for a long romantic walk on a summer evening in the fields....
... and as you do, when they'd crossed several fields and felt they were truly in the middle of nowhere, got a bit frisky and settled down for some lovin' in the grass.

He lay down, she disrobed and started bouncing up down on him - she was a big lass - and great fun was had until she sat up for a breather and noticed something moving in front of her...

Yes, it was a packed evening commuter train, rolling cautiously along at walking pace on the subsiding embankment barely thirty feet away, many interested faces plastered to the windows.

Back then there were no digital cameras or mobile phones so their secret's safe.

Edit: having noticed that Crewe trains often crop up here in rolling stock sex-related anecdotes, I'm pleased to disclose that this took place the late 70s next to the Manchester line between Sandbach and Crewe. Near the sinking tree.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 21:13, Reply)

On a clifftop overlooking Brighton, sometime in 1987
In broad daylight, nothing bit a picnic rug by way of cover.
She was on top and being hit on the head by a frisbee did absolutely nothing to break her stride.
God bless you Julia, wherever you are.
(Rodeohead Rodeohead, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 21:07, Reply)

Straight to the point....
For my first ever answer to QOTW

I once had sex in a confessional box with an alter boy! (and I am not a catholic priest but a very lovely looking lady!)
(CyderdelicAwakening, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 20:56, 9 replies)

Another one, more recent.
DISCLAIMER: if you're one of my kids who frequents this site, stop reading now. I mean it. You won't enjoy my stories this week- they'll give you the jibblies. There are some things you don't want to know about your dad.

I had an apartment on the upper floor of the building with a very nice balcony on it- the floor was concrete and it had brick walls on either side, so it was basically a box with one side open. I could sit out there in comfort even during the worst of storms. I loved that porch.

Along the front rail I had hung four lanterns, and above them were four more. I had a couple of plants hanging there as well, and some chairs to sit in. With all of the candles lit it was a wonderfully romantic place, with the scents of the plants and soft light. The porch overlooked an expanse of lawn and some trees that separated the apartments from the back of a row of shops, so it was reasonably private.

One night I had a woman over for dinner. The meal went nicely, so I suggested that we move to the porch- it was a hot summer night, perfect for sitting out there. She agreed, so I filled her glass again and we stepped out. I sat her in a rocker as I put new candles in all of the lanterns and lit them.

I had lit the last one and was standing next to her when she wordlessly pulled down the shorts I was wearing and leaned over to take me into her mouth. Hell yeah, I thought. How could it be better?

As she was working on me I suddenly heard a metallic jangle from down below. I recognized one of the gay dudes who lived on the lower floor as he scrabbled around in the grass for his dropped keys. He found them and immediately bolted for the door, pointedly without looking up.

I suppose for him it must have been traumatic- he looks up, sees a mostly naked man obviously enjoying himself, his ass illuminated by the light of the candles- but then he realizes that it's a WOMAN servicing me! Eewww! Gross!

I had a hell of a time not giggling as she finished me off...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 23 Apr 2009, 20:56, Reply)

Going to keep this short.
As posted many times, girlfriend lives in Sweden. One visit, went for a walk in the town where she lives. Went in to the cathedral (you can see where this is going already, can't you?) and got stuck on a balcony while a service was going on. Remember: Large stone buildings ECHO-O-O-o-o-o-o
(Potty Jag har smör i min rumpspringa, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 20:24, Reply)

Ah, Youth!
So, I figure a few years is time enough to lurk. I am not a big drinker, so I fear all of my exploits and misadventures are the fault of my own poor judgment, bad character, and ill-temper. So, here goes...

Back in an era lost to the mists of time (the 90s), I met my future wife through the wonders of digital technology (a MUSH). The downside to this arrangement was that she was 350 miles away. I guess it could have been worse. This is, after all, a rather spacious nation and she might have been in Alaska. Still, for poor students without vehicles such as ourselves it was a rather inconvenient distance. This meant that our face-to-face liaisons only occurred every couple of months or so, separated by weeks of frustration, phone and net sex, and unsatisfying masturbation. When one of us did hop a bus or train to see the other, what occurred was more a sexual collision than a meeting between two reasonable, loving individuals. After a few hours of rutting more suited to an X-rated edition of Wild Kingdom, we might pause to actually speak to one another.

One occasion rather stands out in my mind. I met my true love and future mother of my child at the bus station and, after several interruptions to neck furiously up against convenient walls, we finally made it to the subway. Kissing continued, now unfettered by the need to make progress as pedestrians, and quickly grew more heated. Rubbing her through her panties led to just deciding that they were in the way and soon all pretenses at subtlety (such as they were) were abandoned as I knelt on the floor in front of her vigorously finger-fucking her in full view of the afternoon commuters. Even the folks in the forward-facing seats were not denied the provided entertainment as the front wall's two-way mirror into the driver's compartment offered an excellent view. I lost track of how many times she orgasmed but it is worth noting that my beloved is rather... enthusiastic in her throes (by which I mean, loud).

When we disembarked, we discovered that I had picked the wrong station and we were left alone on the abandoned platform waiting for the next train. Of course, having nothing better to do, we continued the aforementioned activities, but now with my future bride as the aggressor. Showing even less restraint than I had, she progressed from rubbing to pulling out my cock and masturbating me within a few seconds and a similar span passed before she was on her knees fellating me while I, half-heartedly, kept an ear out for the arrivals of other subway patrons and noted with a little relief that the security camera was to my back.

Sadly, she lost her nerve before the next train arrived and we had to finish the deed (and the several after) in the comfort of my humble student pit.
(bergec is filled with inertia, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 20:23, 1 reply)

Okay it's a wank, but...
Birmingham Central Library, History Reference Section, 1998.

Well, there was no one about and I was a teenager.

I remember quite clearly that I was reading this, oddly enough:

www.amazon.co.uk/Rise-Model-Army-Mark-Kishlansky/dp/0521273773/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1240512847&sr=1-6

I don't think there's anything especially erotic about the book - but I do find Libraries do something for me, and a few years after this event I did do my college Library at Uni during a lonely, late night cramming session.

I mentioned this to a friend from college the other day and he just said: 'Oh, that's nothing, I had sex in the library twice.'

Libraries - sexy places.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 20:05, 5 replies)

Picture the scene
It's a cold February night in 1995 and I'm out with my then girlfriend, being 14 neither of us are ready to go all the way (or to put it another way she isn't) so we have "come" to a compromise.

Therefore we ended up one Wednesday night in the beach side of the spectators area of Whitstable Tennis club enjoying ourselves to pre agreed limits. Sitting on the bench jeans round my ankles as she knelt in front of me doing her wonderful impression of one of Dyson's finest I was in heaven looking up at the ceiling in my own little world.

At least I was right up until I looked back down and made eye contact with the police officer approaching. Suddenly panicing but also quickly approaching the moment of release I did the only thing I could think of and held up 5 fingers to the officer and began slowly counting down to my "completion". Now some people rail on the police for various things but at least one of them was cool enough to just give me a nod and turn his back for 30 seconds.

Reaching the moment of lift off we tidied ourselves up and I coughed loudly enough that when he turned on his torch and shined it toward us the young lady I was with assumed that was what had caught his attention. Giving us a stern talking to about being out past midnight on a school night he sent us on our way tipping me a wink when it was safe to do so.

So PC whoever, thanks for cutting a kid a break.

Edit: The Spectator stand in question is the green structure on the left of this picture:
www.seewhitstable.com/whitstable-shops-and-businesses/Images/Tennis%20Courts/whitstable%20tennis%20courts.jpg
View from above:
maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&client=opera&q=whitstable&ie=UTF8&ll=51.3577,1.018971&spn=0.000799,0.002401&t=h&z=19
(bill, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 20:04, 2 replies)

For those that can't be bothered to read everything prior...
Stories about being caught out having daring sex in public. Number: 14. Veracity: False.

Stories about having an inexcusable wank. Number: 31. Veracity: Indisputable.

There, I think that should sum it up.
( ousgg is not seeking approval, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 19:54, Reply)

Not me, but...
This goes out to my long-term associate Jason, the first of our group to pop his cherry with a pretty satisfying lass and go on to keep that relationship going.

You see, after being together a few years, most relationships from what I've heard of enter this phase of sexual decline (except mine, thank Christ, and that's only because I've got the pelvic thrusting prowess of a jackhammer). Jason and his missus were soon feeling the pinch and running out of things to do. With the large array of nearby country roads, they decide to cut their losses and go for making the beast with 2 backs, 4 legs, a penis and a vagina out of the public eye.

Or so they thought.

Physics aside, his Nissan Micra was soon bouncing happily, and after stopping to fix the suspension they got down to having sex with all the fumbly grace of the lass doing the sign language for the BBC while wrestling a giant strawberry jelly (sorry, fantasy of mine). Windows are down to prevent the steaming up, and all is going well.

Until Jason feels a pinch on his arse.

Then a prod.

Followed closely by a rectal examination from a well-lubricated finger.

After returning from his leap into the air, Jason and his missus turn to see the perplexed face of Jason's older brother, cock in hand, as his visage slowly resembles one of horror

'What the fuck are you doing here?' asked the brother

'Shagging the missus, you sick shit! What the fuck are you doing here?' asked Jason

'Dogging....er...can you give me a lift back?'

There's not one pub outing I've been on with those guys where I haven't had the urge to bring that story up.
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Thu 23 Apr 2009, 19:46, 2 replies)

While festivalling.
Behind a car in the grass.
Also, by the side of a path on the festival grounds with passers-by cheering.
(lanternchikk hat eine schwere Bohlenallergie, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 19:45, Reply)

Stinging nettles.... on.... the .... ring......
Badbob would also like to add that he popped his cherry outdoors on the way home from School with his best mate (who is a girl).

Was 15ish, it was a sunny day, she wore a school uniform (as was I), and I got stinging nettle rash on my ass.

She had been talking about sex, and I said I had never had it (I could be honest with this girl). She said she hadn't either. I joked we should give it a go (with that teenage bravado that now escapes me). She took me seriously, kissed me with the finest tonguing I have ever had and we done it in the woods. Hurt like holy-fuck, as we were both first-time amateurs in the sport (I have always resisted turning professional), but was very much enjoyable.

I couldn't believe my luck. I am no looker, and wasn't what you would call Athletic, and here was this girl, who was (in my opinion) gorgeous, sitting on my cock.

I panicked for about 3 months afterwards, as I hadn't wore a coat. But it never harmed our friendship, in fact we would do it again, many times, before our ways parted and she moved to France.

Guess where Badbob is flying to tomorrow.... France, and guess who he is going to be meeting up with while there...... :-)
(badbob82 actually has mates called Rex and Wendy, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 19:20, 1 reply)

Hmmm
The boyfriends parents bed (tame I know, but it's different when you're 17)

Against a tree

Bathroom at a party

In my car, in his car, against the car

Many different car parks, industrial estates, woods, country roads, secluded places - including once, a graveyard

In the kitchen at work

In the staff room at work

In the toilets at work

The most memorable has to be sitting on my boyfriends lap, while I was wearing a dress...sitting in a room with his family.

Still don't know how we got away with that one!

*pop*

(popping that cherry was far more enjoyable than popping my proper cherry)
(Twinx, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 19:14, Reply)

Bad time to be naked.
Due to cleaning up my act for a certain someone, I'm not going to post any stories about me for this QOTW except one, which she already knows about anyway.

Those of you who live in or near Warwick may know of a little place called Widney Manor. You may also know that if you walk out of the station, turn left, go ahead for 200 yards, turn left again and follow the pathway, you find a gaping expanse of fields and long grass and nature. Yes, it's kind of next to a golf course but considering me and said female were coming there from stuffy, busy, godawful Birmingham, just being outside and away from braying morons was a wonderful feeling.

So yeah, we did it in the long grass next to a golf course, and I would lie back in the grass afterwards, jeans round ankles, smile on face, not caring how may creepy crawlies might be all over me.

.....
.......
...oh, and....

*Crack!*

What the hell?

*C-c-c-c-c-crack!*

..The fuck?

I get my head to just above grass level and what I see horrifies me. 3 men, running towards me, all in masks.

With fucking paintball guns.

Now, if I was going to draw up a list of times I do NOT want my master of ceremonies exposed, "around guns of any kind" would be pretty high up the list. For the first time ever, I get my jeans on quicker than I took them off, me and the girl sit up, and it was pretty painfully obvious what we'd been doing.

"Afternoon", I casually say as I walk past, completely forgetting her pants were hanging out of my pocket.
(Tiny Blindfolded Horse Kitten sound car horns would end road rage, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 19:10, 1 reply)

BT Internet Kiosk
Badbob is a huge fan of BT internet kiosks. The keyboard is at just the right height.

About 7-8 years ago, I was enjoying a night out in Glasgow, with my then girlfriend (let's call her Julie M, no, on second thoughts, lets call her J Matthews).

Julie had been wearing a hot pink mini-skirt on this evening, one of those one's where you can see some arse-cheek whenever she bends slightly.

This had gotten Badbob pretty hot under the collar, and he had been this way since leaving the house.

I spent the evening laying down some unusual shapes on the dancefloor and generally strutting my funky stuff. Much dirty dancing was had, which only made my raging 19 year old hormones even worse. I was lubricating this dance-off with a combination of flat warm Fosters, unknown quantities of Aftershock and some Whisky.

It all got too much for him after leaving the Garage at 3am, and he managed to get Julie into a BT Internet Kiosk, where he left all his inhibitions outside on the street and got down and dirty with the missus.

After what felt like 3 hours of phone-box sex (which was probably more like 3 minutes), we dusted each other off, retrieved items of underwear, replaced the handset and sauntered off to get the night-bus back to East Kilbride.

Thing is... this particular kiosk was in Sauchiehall Street in Glasgow. Anyone familiar with the city will tell you that it is not a quiet part of town at 3am on a Sunday morning. God only knows what would have happened to us if Strathclyde's finest had plodded along.

I still use the mental image of the event for "self-gratification" purposes to this day.
(badbob82 actually has mates called Rex and Wendy, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 19:07, 2 replies)

A boy, a girl, a field and a farmer
The summer of 1993 was a magical time full of the joys of sexual awakening. I was seventeen, as was she, and we'd been seeing each other for more than a year. We'd progressively enjoyed kisses and cuddles, massages, fumbles and fondles, mutual masturbation and the adventures of oral sex. We both knew the time was fast approaching when we'd take our respective virginities and lose them with each other.

I spent a lot of time at her house; her parents were very welcoming and thought the world of me. It actually makes me blush thinking of the number of times, places and positions their daughter and I boinked each other insensible, whether they were at home or not, but that was all to come. For now, we're talking about the first time.

With her parents at home most of the time, we'd started taking long walks in the countryside with a picnic, finding a nice sheltered spot to eat our lunch and get down to sweet, moist but entirely non-penetrative action for dessert. On the occasion previous to the walk in question, we'd ended up with her rubbing against me until we both came, but still with no penetration. Without a word spoken, we both knew next time would be the main event.

With the sun shining wonderfully on the north Buckinghamshire countryside, we packed-up our lunch and blanket and walked out of her village for an hour, without a final destination. We eventually found a secluded field full of ripening wheat that came up to our hips, and started off along the tractor lines toward the middle of the field to find ourselves some privacy.

We spread out the blanket and unpacked our lunch, which was devoured as a starter for our main course.

We were kissing and caressing then undressing and warming up then touching and rubbing then the condom's on and I'm lying down and she's on top and we're trying to find the right angle and we're there and I'm in and she's on and Christ this is really actually pretty fucking good actually.

Things were going pretty well for a few minutes. I'd heard that the first time was usually rubbish but despite our rhythm being a bit awkward I was really enjoying myself and, from the noises emanating from my companion, I think she was too. Enjoying ourselves, that is, until we heard the tractor.

With a wall of yellow-green wheat around us, it took a little repositioning for her to sit up and quickly scan the perimeter of the field. The tractor, she informed me, was making its way along the other side of the hedge towards the gate we'd come in. We lay there, joined together, blushing, twitching, squeezing and giggling at each other while we waited for the tractor to decide where it was going.

The noise got quieter, then louder, then the engine idled, and there was a jangling of chains and latches being thrown, then a revving. She looked up again and an expression of distress washed across her face. The tractor had crossed into our field.

We separated and rushed like hell to get the right clothes on in the right order, threw the remains of lunch and the blanket into the rucksack and belted off down the tramlines toward the gate. With condom still on, shoes and socks in one hand and her bra in the other, we passed the farmer in his tractor. He scowled, rolled his eyes, and deluged us with tiny, painful solid fertiliser pellets from the hopper on the back of his vehicle.

Neither of us had come.
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 19:00, 1 reply)

The Royal We...
Out side Buckingham Palace...

It was a royal screwing one should know.
( nowimboard shouted "Bring On The Trumpets!" at, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 18:43, Reply)

3 weeks ago
Drunken piss-up after work. Slept most of the train journey home.

Bumped in to my wee brother on said train journey. According to him after we got off at the other end I highlighted my need to urinate so we went via the local park on our way home.

He bumped in to two lassies he knew and I wound up - somehow - pumping one of them silly behind the back of our house. We were only interrupted when said younger sibling and the other mate decided to come find us so she could go home.

Never wrapped my wee-man up and not planning to speak to the lassie anytime soon (I know I keep saying lassie, but t'was all legal...but not a kick in the ballocks off it mind you!). I never did unload my gooey mess but I am not daft, so have about another week of mild panicing until I'm just gonna assume I aint got a mini-me on the go!

Other than the above, I have lived a very responsible life, so fully expect to get fucked over!


Length? Enough for her...twice!
(puggs, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 18:25, 1 reply)

Carsex.
What's that? Oh don't worry, it's just the sound of my b3ta cherry popping. Loooong term lurker. First time posting.

I'm not sure if this counts as public sex really but it kind of fits in with the theme so I'm posting it anyway.

I'm not a really big drinker so I usually end up being the girl who ferries her friends around after parties. At least, I used to be, I don't care how they all get home now because I am not going through what I went through a couple of months ago ever again. Picture the scene, me, my best friend and her boyfriend at the time leaving a friend's house. They'd both been drinking so I said I'd drop them off home. Didn't know halfway home they'd start... pawing at each other. Apparently if musics on and they can't hear me, I can't hear them. Imagine my disgust when I look back to say something to them and the stupid bint has got her hands down the boyfriend's jeans. Urgh. Then she asked me if I'd pull over. So I did. Maybe I should have told them the car park I pulled up and left them in for an hour was a popular dogging site?

Nobody said anything when I got back into the car. She still refuses to tell me what happened in that car park. And she no longer accepts lifts off me.

Hehe.

Also, the current boyfriend and I had sex against a tree last week. Hurrah.
(Melody was not PMSing on, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 18:18, Reply)

Me and Mrs Duck..
.... were on holiday in Edinburgh. We decided we needed to do some proper walking so we caught a train to the nearest mountains.

We had a lovely walk never saw a soul all day, on the way down the mountain, we got a bit frisky, I won't go into details, but we ended up having a thoroughly enjoyable fuck by a stream.

So there we were I was on top pounding away ahem making lurve, when i felt something cold and wet poke me in the ass. I turned and saw a Spaniel sniffing me and his owner scurrying passed avoiding eye contact. I waved said a cheery "afternoon", so did Mrs Duck and after a bit of gigling we carried on. Luckily he didn't stick around to watch or encourage Fido to join in.

Later we stopped in a pub for some food and a drink and he was there with his dog, we waved again he looked confused, bet he told his mates though
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 18:01, 2 replies)

Sand Dunes - Studland Bay
We went for a picnic and ended up slightly drunk and very horny. Slipped off into the sand dunes for a quick shag.

Afterwards, lying holding each other she thanked me for having the foresight to bring a condom.

I didn't have the heart to tell her I had actually just found it in the sand........used......


(ok - not mine - off the telly years ago!)
(Pork2311, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 17:42, Reply)

Al fresco at Tesco
We'd had two kids already, and reached a stage in our relationship where we had a babysitter willing to sit for us every few weeks. This gave us some much needed freedom.

As a couple both in our mid-twenties, the birth of two babies came along in our relationship very very quickly, and I think with hindsight that it never gave us a chance to grow and experiment. We were literally lovers one minute, and within a year we were "mummy and daddy" and I don't mean in a kinky to-each-other way.

Having two kids put an enormous amount of strain on us. I was working hard to bring home a poor wage, my then fiancée was suffering from post-natal depression, and we had split up for a few weeks before deciding to get back together.

With the seperation and subsequent un-seperation, as it were, came a new and open honesty and refreshment, most specifically sexually. Yes, we'd always been well matched in the bedroom, and even today I can trace the roots of some of my kinks back to my ex. The one thing we had never done, through circumstance more than anything, was to make love outdoors.

Getting back together brought a new spark into our sex lives, and so one night, with the kids being looked after by a babysitter, we decided to go out in town with the specific reason to have a couple of drinks and get down and dirty in a park when it got dark.

As we walked through the back alleyways and greener areas of Chelmsford, we walked through what is now a Tesco Direct car park. It was a short cut that ran from the main road to the middle of town, crossing the shop's car park, a seperate car park that was situated next to it, crossing over a small bridge on the river, and running below the main road that also crossed the river. It's the type of area that is always quiet, as it's set far enough back from the traffic so it's not heard, and although busy with walkers and joggers in daylight, at night the lack of lighting prevents many from using the worn pathways.

Walking through the car park, hand in hand, we were talking about possible places to do the deed a little later. As we said it, my ex remarked that, although partially lit, the car park we were in had a couple of areas that weren't covered by the lights, and were tucked away in the corners so that anyone using the short cut, which cut diagonally across the grounds, would be some way away from us.

With that decided, we headed on to a local pub to get some dutch courage. It turns out that when your partner does certain things to a bottle of Becks, you don't need any dutch courage, and in fact it's all you can do not to pounce on them there and then in the bar!

Two half-finished drinks later, we decided that it was dark enough to not be seen and we headed back to our new sex spot.

As the sunlight faded, it became clear that the few street lights that worked only served to light small sections of the car park. One corner in particular was darker than the others, and had a small tree which although could be seen from most angles, would allow us to position ourselves in such a way that we could prevent being too obvious to anyone passing.

For those that have never had outdoor sex, not that I believe there will be many, let me tell you this. Try it. It's bloody fun. The thrill of possibly being seen outweighs the prospect of ACTUALLY being seen. Even the couples that we saw walk past didn't stop us going hell for leather at it, all the time being poked and prodded by twigs and God knows what else.

When we'd finished, we tidied ourselves up as best we could, tucked ourselves in and kissed in celebration of something that had been well done.

The silence was deafening, and we waited for distant footsteps to pass by before we emerged giggling from the leaves.

As we took a couple of steps away, glowing in the post-coital glow of newly-experienced outdoor sex, I stopped suddenly.

"What's that noise?" I asked.

We looked at each other, and then all around.

"I thought I heard something too..." said my ex.

We shrugged it off and started walking again. There it was once more. A buzzing sound. We didn't break our stride as we looked around, and within a few steps I heard my ex swear.

"Oh shit!" She sounded shocked, and then broke into laughter, pointing high towards the building that we were now walking away from.

"Look!"

As my eyes followed the direction her finger pointed in, they began to focus on something on the wall which was moving in time with our steps. A CCTV camera. One that had obviously seen our every move, and was now tracing our steps away from the tree.

Our attempts at a bit of secluded nookie had failed, with God knows how many CCTV operators watching is. So we did all that was possible in that situation. I bowed, my ex curtsied, and we carried on our way.

A couple of months later I had to visit the store for something to do with work. As I was taken around the "Staff only" areas, making notes for the new signage that was needed, the manager spoke to me in general terms about his staff and who does what.

As we went in to the security control room, he introduced me to the CCTV operators who went on to tell me about the camera systems, before beginning to tell me a story about a couple they'd caught shagging in the car park a few months earlier.

I tried desperately not to blush as they ended the story with "and you know what? The fella only bowed, and his missus curtsied to the camera!"
( SeasonTicketless is too often the statue, and rarely the pigeon., Thu 23 Apr 2009, 17:41, 2 replies)

Ok then.
Toilets of clubs and bars.
In a phone box.
Gardens of hotel.
Beach.
Kareoke bar. Got caught.
Hallway of apartment block. Got caught.
Up against the wall of a temple. With ladyboy.
Swimmingpool.
TV room of guesthouse.
Rooms full of people. Though they were usually shagging aswell.
The park. Think that one may have been a ladyboy aswell, time for a long hard look in the mirror.

And my all time favourite. The back of a taxi, which lead to the immortal line 'can you just pop round the block again mate'. Love it.
( The Awful Puppy Bakery is still bored, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 17:31, Reply)

Ive been a very naughty girl
I seemed to have a penchant for having sex in places you could get caught out.

OK most times while under the influence of something happy making

On the back of a bus, we were the only ones on and the driver gave me and BF a thumbs up and a wink as we got off ( the bus) ;)

Having a bit of girly fun in the showers after college and the caretaker walking in.
She didnt see him but I burst out laughing when I saw the look on his face.
Had to explain why I laughed, she wasnt impressed.

A few times out in the countryside have been caught, only once did the passer by object.

1st time with a guy was in the back of his van (classy) and a bunch of teenager hikers walked by, they only saw his backside though.

Going down on a GF sitting on the sink in the loos at a gig.
But then didnt everyone at a Rockbitch gig?

Totally drunk and stoned at a party, in the bathroom, where people just stepped over us to use the loo.
Stoned sex is amazing

Same guy, different party, in the communal hall

At a beach party, my BF and I wandered away from the rest and had doggy sex on a huge cube shaped rock.
Got back to cheers, then we could see that the same rock was sillouhetted against the nights sky, so everyone had watched the show.

Several times at fetish clubs and parties.

But I'm all growed up now and much more of a voyour :)
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 17:23, Reply)

Kept deliberately vague...
My most recent serious girlfriend left her husband of 20+ years because he got arrested for public indecency.

The cops caught him fellating another chap in a churchyard. The other bloke was in his 70s. Hubby's excuse? The old geezer's wife had recently died and he 'felt sorry for him'.

I had to listen to this tale after our first shag and not laugh. The fun lasted for a year or so, with many alfresco moments, until her love of alcohol got seriously out of control and I decided enough was enough.

You'd think that her hubby would have had no way back, wouldn't you? Yet I hear that they are together again and making a go of it.
( MisterPunch did it that way on, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 17:22, Reply)

French Exchange
No, that's not a euphemism, I was actually on an exchange trip.

The whole experience was utterly nightmarish, I was quite accomplished at speaking French so was somewhat surprised that they placed me with a family who spoke exclusively in Italian.

Things did not go well.

I washed in freezing water the whole time. I was a veggie, they knew this and agreed to provide veggie meals. The first meal they presented me with was beef. I wasn't a veggie any more.

The only words spoken to me by the mother in a language I understood were "I can clean your bra yes?". I said no whilst slowly backing away.

The one and only shining light in this entire shitheap of a trip was the fact that my boyfriend was there too. There was a party planned every few nights and we managed to get a bit of drunken fumbling done, without ever finding anywhere private enough to get on with it properly.

As this fortnight in Hades finally came to an end, I was bursting with teenage hormones and gagging to get down and dirty with him. He might have been a bit of a geek, but he could fuck for Team GB and the thought of it was making my stomach flip over like there was a little man trampolining in there.

The final big party was at the Posh Girl's house, I scoped it out as we entered; large grounds, summerhouse, clumps of trees - right, plenty of places for us to get going here. Brilliant.

The night goes well, with teenagers doing what they do. We drink, we smoke, we toke, we might have done the macarena.

A few bottles of horrible French bier later he slides over to me and asks me if I wanted to come outside with him 'wooooooooooooo' says my mind 'Yes please' says my mouth with a wicked little grin.

He takes my hand and says, "Brilliant, Concorde is scheduled to fly over any minute and no one else wanted to come outside to see it with me"

and so my dreams of outdoor filthiness were shattered, mind you it taught me not to go out with a fucking Air Cadet.
(Bliss/Full up to the brim, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 17:20, Reply)

Exotic bonk
I am lucky enough to be related to the owner of the Diamond botanical gardens in St Lucia (fairly distantly related to be honest but when they live somewhere like that, you make the most of it). The gardens are at the south of the island by a volcano and they have a massive spring that is fed with hot volcanic water. They also have mineral baths there that were built almost 300 years ago to help heal French troops.

During one trip over, my Mrs and I were treated to a trip there by the owner and were given the keys to the private mineral baths.

After a few too many rum punches we decided to take a dip in the baths. Of course, we did the only decent thing and had a hot splashy bonk in the spring water. I am fairly sure that this is the different water that the public can drink from the spring.

You never know though.
(Tom Jones's Mojo Hasn't had any since, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 17:19, Reply)

On the running track at the youth centre.
And once on a squash court. Sorry if you walked through the viewing gallery.
( g_j_p, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 17:11, Reply)

Quick wits
I was 19. I'd gone to University and started seeing this girl who was very much from the other side of the tracks to me. So posh she thought her family lived 'relatively modestly' because they'd had to cut down to just the one house and dad had sold the yacht when he retired. Lovely girl though, and she had the sort of body only produced by phenomenal genetics and a youth spent on gymnastics and netball.

Now this was my first proper girlfriend and I was making the best of having a regular source of nookie on tap. In short, reader, it nearly fell off. However, come the end of our first blissful term together, the time came to go home for the summer. I went back to the Midlands, and she to the Home Counties.

Of course, the passions of young love can never be denied for too long, and after a few weeks she prevailed upon her parents to invite me to visit for a long weekend. I was put in the bedroom furthest from hers in their palatial home, and her Dad suggested to her that I might wish to stay there. Me venturing to her room, or vice-versa, was strictly off-limits. The controlling old git even checked that we weren't sneaking about in the night through the rather un-subtle ruse of throwing the dog into my bedroom in the middle of the night then apologetically coming in to remove it. I instantly cottoned on to his subterfuge, as even at my then tender age, I had enough experience to know that King Charles spaniels rarely pass through doors at waist height without some form of extra-canine propulsion.

Anyway, a few days into my stay the tension was mounting enormously, and we'd started looking for quiet moments where we could steal a little intimacy. However, her father's hawk-like gaze ensured we never had a chance to properly fulfil our youthful desires. I was also too scared due to her father's attentions to even attempt self-abuse. In short, I was primed to blow, and liable to fill a skip.

Our opportunity came when her Mum, who'd never learned to drive, needed a lift into town. Jane drove her in, and as her mum went off to pick up some photos she'd left to be developed, we were left in the car together. It being a multi-storey where we could see people approaching from a good way off in all directions, and knowing we had a while before her mum returned, we hatched a cunning plan by which we would both remain seated in the front of the car, but she would lean over and offer oral relief whilst I kept watch.

It was probably the occasion and my desperate need as much as her admittedly amateur technique, but I will probably go to my grave remembering this as the best blow job I have ever had. I had promised, being a gentleman, that I would warn her before I came, but I realised as she bobbed away in my lap that I had absolutely no intention of doing so, and indeed that due to the expected volume of liquid involved and the force with which it would likely be expelled, there was no practical solution under the circumstances other than to ensure it all went in her mouth.

Then, I was faced with a curveball which would have thrown even the steeliest of men into a panic - as I built to a volcanic climax, I clocked her mum coming out of the doors at the other end of the otherwise deserted garage...

It was dark in there, and I knew I had at least a few moments before her mum's eyes adjusted enough to take in the situation. With impeccable timing and the execution of a porn star, I shot my load in a mighty spasm. In order to maintain control of the situation and ensure no spillage, I was obliged to hold Jane's head down.

Once I released her, she sat bolt upright in the driver's seat and glared at me with obvious outrage. I had discovered months before that she did not swallow, and she was in an obvious fit of pique at my betrayal of our prior agreement. She would probably have shouted at me if I hadn't pointed out the front window and mouthed 'Your mum!'.

Now, most people would have abandoned their prior stance and swallowed at this point, but Jane was a principled girl. Hence her driving her mum and me the two miles back to the house with a mouthful of my cum, making small talk all the way, before slipping off the the bathroom to spit it out when we got back. Her mum commented afterwards that she looked rather pale and shaken. Unable, due to her parents scrutiny, to find a quiet moment to harangue me for my ungentlemanly behaviour, she used it as an excuse to say she was ill and stayed in the house in her room whilst I ventured to the pub with her parents and got, in the common parlance, royally cunted.

Surprisingly, this relationship endured for several more months and she even reversed her previous position on ingesting man milk. Result.

Obviously, no apologies for length, volume, or element of surprise. I only did what was called for under the circumstances...

I have absolutely no idea why I've written this in a slightly fruity faux-Edwardian style, by the way, it just seemed to flow.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 17:08, 7 replies)

170 km north of the Arctic circle....
... taking a walk on the top of a ski resort (not so much of a mountain, more of a "fell"). It was in the summer so there was no snow... or people for that matter.

So there we were, me and the missus were looking out admiring the view when the suggestion came around to "what a fab place for a shag". So off we go, enjoying each other when we heard the familiar "whoosh" of a fighter jet.

Now there was an airport 20km away that was used by the Finnish air force so hearing low flying fighters wasn't out of the ordinary and sure enough one came past really low.... so low infact I could see his head in the cockpit.

So, we finish up (no pun intended) and start to wonder if the pilot saw us in his flypast. Sure enough we could hear the noise of the Hornet returning, but this time it was louder.

After looking for a second we could see 2 of them flying straight for us... the little sod had only gone and radioed his mate and as they flew over we gave them a wave just to *really* check if they could see us. The bastards dipped their wings (as pilots up here tend to do if they notice someone waving) and me and the now embarrassed missus start our slow walk of shame back to our car.

So....there you go, I got busted having outdoor sex by the Finnish Air Force.
(MonkeyFunker, Thu 23 Apr 2009, 17:08, 5 replies)