A Travelodge room.
Not that public, is it?

Well it fucking is when you've also got about 10 other friends (including his sister) crammed in there and you're so drunk that you're not exactly being subtle about it. And then stumbling off to the bathroom when they all notice, and forgetting to lock the door.
(and now for someone completely different, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 20:30, Reply)

Let me count the ways...
Elevator stopped between floors in a university office building

Ruins of a Turkish amphitheater

A lifegaurd's chair beside a pool

A ski lift operator's hut

In the same tent as another couple (not quite public, but not exactly private, either)

Conference room tables at three different companies

On a beach in broad daylight

Various cars, trucks, theaters, alcoves, niches and the like

Special mention for the gal who gave me a hummer while we were in stop and go traffic--notable for the fact that she was driving.

Funny, I don't consider myself much or a risk taker or exhibitionist...
(grundig Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 20:21, Reply)

On your bed while you were at school.
Tell yer mum to call me sometime, willya?
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 24 Apr 2009, 20:08, 1 reply)

Czech Republic
On a park bench (at night obviously)
( discobunnywalker, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 20:02, Reply)

A child's pink wendy house
That is all.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 19:45, 4 replies)

girlfriend's desk
while others in the office went about their business

high partitions ftw!
( empire of the pussycat requires more champage, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 19:37, Reply)

French shower
Not that cool, but on a five day road trip across Europe (having been crammed in a car with three other friends, ruck sacks and all) , The missus and i would find time to 'take a shower' and blow off some steam.

Great days...
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 19:15, 1 reply)

Not quite public sex but...
The very first time i had sex with my now ex, we were both tripping and in her grandmothers living room.

I have no idea how noisy we were and believe me, sex isn't that good when everything is looking 'strange'.

Still... One for the books methinks.
(mr-lizard Hell's teeth man!, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 19:08, Reply)

Ok, a bit tasteless but...
...right now my wife is giving me a blowjob.

This counts as a public place, right?

Sorry.
(snordfjord Cranky...like a crank!, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 18:55, 5 replies)

As best as I can judge...
Here

We'd started the night at a gathering of like minded fools in the Princess Louise pub, where certain ideas has been whsipered into a rapidly blushing ear. Wandered along to the "Troy Club", a dodgy after hours drinking hole above a dodgey Tapas Bar near Tottenham Court Road where kisses had been traded and the various raddled alcoholics treated to a display of unbridled, yet fully clothed lust that had some of them gazing into their double brandies with confused expressions.
The evening was going swimmingly, she was hot for anything I was willing to suggest, and I was barely able to walk straight due to the unmerciful compression of my trousers. Then disaster strikes, her Ex has arrived in town and is skulking in their flat like a toad in a stone refusing to leave until she explains for the Nth time why she booted him out.*
My place was out for various reasons** so we headed for Bloomsbury, and the cheap, but clean, hotels.

Could we get a room, could we feck. "All Full" was the cry, "We can do you a single if you can be out by 6:30" was another.
Even the Imperial turned us away.

By this time we were getting more than a little flusterd, we were both almost painfuly horny and the need to fuck was getting more and more urgent.
There was going to be shagging, it was going to happen soon, and if we didn't find somewhere quiet I was going to bend her over a table outside a cafe and spread her legs right there.
As we staggered along I told her just that, and was rewarded with a brief gasp of delight and a wide eyed expression I came to know meant, "Want. Cock. Now."

She dragged me into a passage beside the church, through a gateway and into a dark alley beyond. There tugged her jeans down over her hips and firmly pulled my hand down between her legs. Tongue slips inbetween lips as fingers slide into the hottest, wettest pussy it's ever been my pleasure to pleasure.

Both of us were so rampant that it was over in seconds. We spent longer pressed up against the stone wall trading kisses and recovering than we did actually screwing, but the sense of release was astonishing.

A few days later, back in the same part of town and by a little careful planning we were walking past that spot again. Not quite so late at night, but still.
I looked at her, she looked at me and her eyes widened in just the right way...
Hands clasped and giggling like teenagers we scuttled into the alleyway, ready, oh so ready for round two of Bunnies vs God. Only to find a large and shiny chain on the gate. No way over, no way through and, no seclusion at all.
Slightly miffed we resolved to head back to her flat, now certified psycho free, and turned around. Only now, in the rapidly fading daylight, noticing the girt great security camera bolted to the side of the church, carefully aimed directly at a certain place on the wall.

Alright God, we'll call it a draw...

*Because he was an egotistical psychopath who heard voices telling him to break/destroy/attack anything or anyone she cared for.
**Beds already full of other people
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 18:49, 2 replies)

Technically this could have gone in the 'clubs' category as well but...
Although I've done the dirty deed in public a few times, nothing particularly funny happened. So rather I will tell of an occurrence that will stick in the minds of a number of the residents of Southampton for a LONG time.

In this wonderful city there lies an alternative/metal club called The Dungeon, or the Dinge to the locals (just to give an idea of its general classiness).

One of the best things about this club is its massive outside smoking area, which is thoughtfully lined with benches and covered booths for those rainy outdoor fag breaks.
One evening, pleasantly inebriated, some mates and myself were partaking in some nicotine-y goodness complimented by the truly, truly godawul Dungeon vodka (honestly, this stuff is so awful that when people first drink it they tend to throw it straight back up).

Suddenly, out of the corner of our eyes, we noticed a couple. Now this couple were not quietly necking in a booth, out of the way, oh no. They were positioned at the very end of the garden, where is it almost impossible NOT to see.

To put it mildly, they were copulating. To put it explicitly, they were having some of the most rampant, animalistic sex it has been my pleasure to witness. No 'let's-do-it-against-a-wall-so-people-might-possibly think-we're just-making-out' for them, oh no, this started with a full, trousers down, on your knees blowjob, with added pornstar sound effects. Rapidly they progressed to some girl-on-top action, the gent thrusting for all he was worth with the lady in question riding him like a Grand National winner. It did not stop there; the gamut was run from reverse cowgirl to doggy, and when the lad reached the vinegar strokes she, like a champ, got straight back onto her knees and swallowed the full load.

When they had concluded this mini marathon the entire garden full of smoking goths, which had been watching open-mouthed (including the bouncers) burst into a round of applause.

To their credit, the couple bowed and walked off, and everyone went back to their drinks.

Length? Couldn't see very clearly, but it was certainly fulfilling her needs.
*pop*
(Uncle_B0b, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 18:48, Reply)

It was to be our first time...
In a car, in an undisclosed area of the British Isles. We'd managed to find a deserted country road, pulled in to the side and decided to get down to the long awaited business of dispensing of our virginities.

Now, the back seat of a 1998 Ford Fiesta isn't the most capacious area. Even with the front seats pushed as far forward as possible, we had to attempt some weird contortions to get into position. At one point, I accidentally kneed myself in the face, just fairly gently. No problem, giggled a bit and carried on.

A few minutes later, and I'm nestled happily between her legs. She has her eyes closed as I tease her nipples with my tongue. Suddenly, it starts to taste a bit odd... A strangely familiar metallic taste.

I open my eyes, and there's blood EVERYWHERE. I've covered the poor girl's chest in it, it's started to drip down onto the seat. Turns out the knee to the face did a bit more damage than I thought, and my nose is pissing blood at a terrific rate. I was unable to stop myself pissing myself laughing. This caused her to open her eyes, and witness the carnage.

The sight of her stood next to the car, desperately trying to wash her tits with a small bottle of water is stuck with me forever. I was still too busy laughing to help. Needless to say, there was no sex that day.
(whyamihere, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 18:03, Reply)

Twenty Minute Cliff
I have gotten laid here a couple of times.

Zoom in. See that wall over there, next to that twisted tree on the left? If you climb down there, there is a nice little rock ledge to sit on. Or rather, it's a good place for her to sit while I stand, if ya know what I mean. And a good place for her to lean on, ass in the air as I lift her skirt.

I really don't know how we didn't get caught.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 24 Apr 2009, 18:02, 1 reply)

I was an alcoholic anorexic
and he was a manic depressive. We'd met at the unit he was sectioned at when I went to visit my best mate. They were on day release, and we all walked to the nearest Starbucks to drink tesco value vodka and cappuccinos.

He had a psychotic moment. The tequila came out. We walked back to the tube station together.

"I've got a condom" says I "fancy a fuck?"

"Alright then" quoth he

With the moon setting in a starry sky, we drunkenly pulled our trousers down and fucked on the bonnet of a nearby car.

I thought the evening could not get more magical- I was wrong.

I boarded the train with my inebriated mate.

"Did you use a condom" she purred "it's just he's well skanky and he's probably got everything there is going"

But we had, as he had cared for me. I just knew by the way that he'd drunkenly slipped out then apologised, and asked me to sort it out for him. He was special.

We left the train at Camden station. I fell down the stairs. My mate fell too, then threw up over herself. I wiped her as best I could with her scarf, and were then escorted from the premises.

We left the kindly staff the most fitting present we could think of.

A half empty 2 litre bottle of White Lightening.

Magical.
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 17:36, 1 reply)

Wannabe Teenage Dad
When I was about eleven or twelve and discovered the wonderful, amazing, toe-curling pleasure that could be had through choking one's chicken, I developed a strange pattern of behavior...

We had a big garden. And in that garden was a tree. A big tree. And I discovered that in a waist high hollow in the tree lived a squirrel.

I had many merry wanks infront of that tree, spraying my load deep inside the hollow.

And why?

To see if I could get the squirrel pregnant...

Is this normal behaviour ???
( SpankyHanky, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 16:55, 15 replies)

As a Surrey boy
I can't join in any of these depraved tales of the underclasses, so I'll tell you a related one.

I was staying at the house of a girlfriend (horsey Sally), and I crept downstairs in the night to get a glass of water.

I hadn't been seeing her for very long, and when I went upstairs I wasn't 100% sure which room she was in. left or right? left or right... right.

I crept in, put my water down and climbed into bed. Spooning my horsey partner, as I am told is polite, it struck me that her legs were even horsier than usual, if that was at all possible.

That was when the very camp voice of her landlord rang out "I can't say for sure sweetheart, but I'm pretty sure you've got the wrong room".
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 16:49, 1 reply)

Nothing exciting.....
...but here is a list of a few places:

In a field amongst a collection of trees several times (we were once spotted by an old woman walking her dog)

In the same field, but in an open space at night (a jogger ran right past us, he must have seen)

On the beach at Great Yarmouth

In the toilets at school (6th form)

I think that's it.
(porkinator is a Rock n Roll nerd!, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 16:44, Reply)

I remember a court case in my local paper.
Couple arrested for outdoor shagging.
And public defecation.
I mean, really.
Think they were drunk too, which means it was a bit more impressive.
(Bear Pookie The Frankly Challenged. Halloween is coming to town., Fri 24 Apr 2009, 16:08, Reply)

Apparently
I was a very difficult pregnancy. I was a pretty heavy baby. I'm a pretty heavy man for that matter. My head is so big that people think I'm wearing a diving helmet when they see me in silhouette. I can't imagine my Mum would have had a great time of it.

But, leaving aside for the moment the matter of my actual birth, I can't imagine the pregnancy was that great either. Lugging around umpteen pounds of baby that's constantly making you feel sick, playing merry hell with your hormones, demanding increasingly bizarre varieties of food, and kicking your stomach from the inside.

So, as you can imagine, when my dear mother's due date came, and I didn't, she was, to say the least, frustrated, in fact, I imagine she was yelling at the doctor to bring a plunger so she could get me the hell out herself.

Obviously though, the plumbing approach wasn't, and I believe still isn't, really approved as a way to induce pregnancy. So, Mr and Mrs belms Snr asked for some advice from their doctor, and they got given a lovely little pamphlet listing various ways to induce labour, apparently walking, castor oil, certain herbs, nipple stimulation, spicy food, and even sex can all help to pop the little bugger out.

Not one day after he'd sent them on their way with that little pamphlet, my parents' doctor was greeted with the sight of a screaming woman being wheeled on a hospital gurney through the corridors, legs wider than the sky, with a rather flustered looking husband hurrying alongside her.

Falling in step beside him, the doctor beamed at my dad, "So it worked? The baby's coming!"

"Yes" Replied my Dad, "But we're no longer welcome at the Taj Tandoori".
(LickOutTheJamsMotherfuckers!, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 15:56, 4 replies)

House Arrest
Most of these stories follow a similar theme - "oh look at the list of places I've allegedly had sex in" and/or "this one time I almost got caught boldly having sex somewhere I shouldn't" and the like.

This is the story of my friend we shall call Chris (for that is his name), the living example of when these stories go wrong - and not in the charming "oh, you got us copper!" vein, but in the "my life is ruined forever" sort of way.

Three years ago, Chris had sex with his girlfriend in a parking lot. It was still technically day, but it was getting dark, and it was a seldom used lot. Imagine their surprise when a little old lady passes by, nearly faints in shock and calls the police who, unfortunately, were quite nearby.

Now imagine their surprise when Chris was put under 1 year's house arrest, declared a sex offender, struck with probation that included a 10pm curfew, weekly sexual deviant meetings with actual rapists and pedophiles, and restrictions on drinking, sex, masturbation, and even being within 100 yards of anywhere anyone under the age of 18 would likely be, all with semi-annual polygraph (lie detector) tests, for the next four years.

Turns out the judge was another old lady whose daughter had been "severely disturbed and distraught" by a close encounter with a football game streaker (as in having seen him from 50 yards) and was keen on keeping these dangerous sex pests off the streets and away from children.

Which is a bit unfair, considering he was having consensual sex between two adults and had a spotless record.

He's gone through several lawyers trying to get this overturned - but it's been years already, and his probation is up in less than a year, so getting anything changed at this point is rather moot. Still, he had to spend four years (prime years at that, 18-22!) being completely unable to enjoy the very things that life is about - sex, alcohol and self abuse.

Poor bastard.
(TheManWhoWas SlightlyKnackered, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 15:53, 13 replies)

Many, many years ago
And still at college I was at a party with the then girlfriend. At about midnight, and during a lull in the music, she decided she'd had enough and wanted to leave.

At which point she stood up and announced loudly, "We're off now. I'm going home to fuck DG".

Which was public enough, frankly. She might as well have just lobbed me old man out and put on a floor show.

Still, the glow from my crimson cheeks provided us with the warmth we needed as we staggered the mile back to mine in the cold, January night.
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Fri 24 Apr 2009, 15:18, Reply)

one night stand to beat the band
It was the 80s, when the most you had to fear was herpes. I used to dress like some kind of whiteboy pimp, a long coat and long hair.

It was a party organised by the hippest and most f.a.b. youth radio station in town. She was very pretty, fine body, nice face, blonde hair ... buxom ... yes, buxom.

Later on when the lights turned out she consented to come home with me (SCORE!!!!) until I mentioned that I lived about 45 minutes away ... by train ... with my parents.

"Screw that!" said my new and inventive very best friend, and spotted this tinyurl.com/dykph7 bandstand in a park, to which we hastily decamped.

So we rooted, sweatily and repeatedly (I was just a suburban boy, and it was a long time between drinks) and languidly, stretched out on my long coat for what seemed like hours.

At some point a pair of males, gayers I guess, poked their faces over the parapet of our castle, she was fierce in defence of our trysting spot, a real lioness as she roared at them to fuck off (or words to that effect.)

I dropped her at her house, using my last few dollars for a cab, and practically floated to the train station to head home in the early morning. She'd apologised for playing so 'hard to get' at the dance, explaining that 'she didn't realise I really cared so much.' Apparently I'd done OK by her.

And then I saw the moment of my greatness slip as I waited that morning for my train. Another, younger, woman approached me. Explaining that her friend was down from the country, needed a good seeing-to, she asked would I kindly oblige?

There it was - the holy grail ... a threesome (because I'm sure I could have persuaded the city girl to join in,) fallen into my lap, and I couldn't rise to it!

I'd shagged myself into hollow concavity with the lioness lady, and in my insecurity I let slip away the ultimate fantasy.

Well, it's one for the wank-bank, and it's also a great story for potential new booty, if I can somehow wangle it into the conversation (under the topic of 'greatest disappointment in life.')

(BTW: blondie, if you're reading this, get in touch!)
(Dances with Trolls, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:57, Reply)

Have another oldie...

Is there anything more miserable than an 18 year old that has never been kissed? All around you, less witty, less intelligent and, if we're being honest, less attractive people, are snogging and, no doubt, in private doing even more intimate things. But not you, oh no. And then what happens? Yes you do miserably in your A Levels and fail to get that place at Liverpool Uni you had your heart set on - well, perhaps not you, but that was the situation the young Che found himself in. Not just miserable and with no idea what to do with his life, but also with a fully functioning, nay, eager and constantly throbbing member and a pair of bollocks on permanent double shifts, producing enough spermatozoa to re-populate China every 48 hours.

Miserable? The only thing keeping me going was the support of friends and the regular gaseous intake of combustible resin of the cannabis sativa plant. So, in this unstable condition of sexual readiness partially suppressed by dope, I spent a year working while my kindly but clueless parents convinced me to sign up for a degree in catering administration in Bournemouth (don't ask).

I saved up and gave myself a decent summer holiday though. I got an inter-rail card: South of France, Rome, Florence, Italian Riviera, Austria, Germany, Luxembourg and finally, Amsterdam - where I was able to renew my acquaintance with the above-mentioned herbal remedy and reconcile myself to three more weeks at home before going to college to do some mickey mouse course. It also softened the blow that, despite travelling alone, staying in Youth Hostels and meeting dozens of people of both sexes from all over, I had spectacularly failed to get any girlie action whatsoever.

Did I ask earlier whether there was anything more miserable than an 18 year old that has never been kissed? Well, by now, I'd had my 19th birthday.

Heigh ho and back to Blightly. After a feed a sleep and a bath I felt 'normal' again...so I hastily called some mates and went to the pub or maybe went to someone's place for a smoke. Funnily enough, I hate telling traveller's tales normally; you've been off having adventures, if only minor ones, while the folks back home have been doing diddly squat. I don't like bragging and anyway...you had to have been there. So I'd catch up on who was shagging who and who wasn't any more etc. and I sat in the background getting bored.

Then, at the weekend, there was a party at my best mate's ex's house. We were sitting around chatting, I knew everyone more or less, when a girl called Mandy suddenly said: "I really want to go to Greece, but I can't find anyone to go with."

"I'll go with you." I said. I had planned to go to Greece on my inter-rail card but missed the train by ten minutes so ended up going to Vienna instead. I knew Mandy, she'd been in my history A Level class, but if you drew a set of Venn diagrams of those of us at 6th Form College, she would only have been in one of the same ones as me, if you know what I mean. In my close circle of friends she was tolerated though not specially close to anyone. I could feel several pairs of eyes turning my way as the eyebrows rose, but what the fuck? she wanted to go to Greece, so did I; I couldn't bear the thought of sitting around for the next three weeks doing nothing, let's go.

Mandy wasn't really my 'type', being a bit too curly headed and rosy-cheeked, rather than the scaled-down Liz Taylor or Sophia Loren which was more my ideal, but she was certainly nice enough to make the thought of spending a couple of weeks in her company, although a little unexpected, certainly not repellent.

The very next day, I met up with Mandy (after breaking the news to my pretty dis-chuffed parents) and we went up to Town to buy some train tickets. Back in the old days, you couldn't ring up or order online, you had to queue up at Victoria and pay in pound notes. Another couple of days and we were off.

I'd never travelled with anyone before - always the solo wanderer me, so I found it a bit strange at first. I felt a bit protective, but Mandy was an independent girl - an only child and parents separated. Although I had three brothers, I had no sisters, so didn’t really know what to expect, but I got used to things fairly quickly. It's a long train journey from London to Brindisi and includes a couple of nights; we'd not shelled out for couchettes so slept in seats. Occasionally, Mandy's head would rest on my shoulder and, although I didn't fancy her, it made a pleasant change. We got on fine together, any misgivings I may have had proved to be unfounded, and sometimes I'd chuckle quietly to myself as I remembered the faces of our friends...

Brindisi. This was early September and southern Italy was HOT, which was fine. I liked it hot in those days. We found the boat to Greece and bought the cheapest tickets: deck class. On board, we settled down on a bench and got chatting to a group of Swedish lads, I'm sure they weren't all called Sven, but odds are, at least one of them was. We did the old traveller thing of sharing what we had, bread, sausage, huge ripe peaches, bottles of warm red wine, cigarettes etc. I can still feel the fur of the peach on my lips as I bit into the ripe flesh and the juice spilled down my chin and neck, then the over-heated red wine, straight from the bottle, passed around the circle - rough, warm, warming. As the sun went down we were treated to a magnificent sunset and then the breathtaking stars of the Mediterranean night sky. I'd always thought that shooting stars were either a kind of myth or else a rarity, a bit like a comet or a total eclipse. Out on the dark sea, lying on a sleeping mat watching shooting star after shooting star streak across the sky as we fell asleep...

We stuck with the Swedes after we landed as we were all headed for Athens. No-one had any idea where to stay in Athens, but then again, we weren't much bothered either. Just as well we didn't worry, as it wasn't a problem; at Athens station we were met by a Kiwi who convinced us to stay at the Hotel Byron - he was given free board and lodging to do so, but he was refreshingly honest about it’s lack of luxury, while convincing us by it’s low price. It wasn’t long before we were trailing along behind him like a bunch of over-grown school kids following a teacher on a school trip.

We all chose to sleep on the roof. It was the cheapest option and the previous night’s experience on the deck of the boat had been so lovely we didn't really want to be confined to a room. Up we went, laying down our sleeping mats, un-rolling our sleeping bags, standing our rucksacks nearby - silent sentinels. Then a quick shower and back downstairs to the bar/lounge to sample the first of many cold, Greek beers. Big pint-sized bottles - rare in those days - and so cheap. Mandy and I had been travelling together now for about three days and must have looked like an old married couple. We were sitting back to back with our feet up on a low bench, chatting to Swedes and others staying at the Byron.

"Do you love her?" Sven asked me, gesturing towards Mandy with his beer bottle.

"Eh? Oh, no. We're just friends. She wanted to go to Greece, so did I, so we went together."

"She's a very nice girl," said Sven. I guessed he fancied her and kind of wished him luck. A couple of more beers and it was time to go to bed. Up the four flights of stairs onto the roof, with the lights of Athens all around, and the myriad stars above. I climbed into my sleeping bag and shrugged off my clothes as Mandy did the same in her bag, next to me. I turned to face her, "Well, here we are!" I said, she smiled, reached out an arm, put it around my neck and pulled me towards her for the first snog of my life.

I'm pleased to report that although totally unexpected, I wasn't shocked by this development and, in fact, I very rapidly threw myself into the proceedings with the appropriate gusto. Soon, I had transferred to her sleeping bag and was on top of her, kissing for England, and then...I can still feel it today, in my mind's groin, so to speak. She reached down and firmly but gently, and yet urgently and fervently took hold of little Che and guided him towards that place, that secret, sacred place.

Could there be anything more surprising for the 19 year old virgin than to discover that a girl - any girl - is willing and anxious to have sex with him, in fact just as keen as he is to have sex with her? And if you have had to endure those long, hard years of girl-lessness, what better place to finally discover their joys than under the stars on a warm summer night in the eternal city of Athens?

Well worth waiting for. I lay back and Mandy rested her head on my young man's chest and I placed a protective arm around her.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:31, 10 replies)

"Boilk" - A Tale of Cottaging Woe
Monday afternoon to that there London for a job interview with a large broadcast services company.

Sadly, I did so under duress, for the night before I'd eaten a burger of dubious quality, and my journey to the heart of the metropolis was punctuated by frequent trips to the toilet, where I fired the brown laser down the bowl, whilst vomiting into the hand basin.

I made it to the companys very flash offices behind the Royal Courts of Justice in good time, but was suddeny overtaken by the desire to empty my system once again.

Luckily, on the corner of Lincoln's Inn there was a gents' toilet, and I happily bounded into the end cubile and parked myself on the welcoming porcelain.

What I didn't know at the time, said shitter is a well-known cottaging spot, where London's legal types go for furtive pink oboe solos.

I only found this out when a rock hard phallus was poked through the partitition wall at head height.

How rare.

I sat there, world falling out of my arse and wanting to die as the cock's owner wiggled it hopefully.

Then I was sick.

"YAAAAAAAAAAARCH!"

Rich, brown vomit all over the disembodied prick .

"Ooooh!" came a voice from the other side.

Closely followed by "AAAAAAAAARGH!", and the sound of extreme panic as my pervy friend fled for his life.

I didn't get the job.

[Alternative, completely made-up ending:

I arrived in the offices and, my stomach settling at last, was eventually ushered into the interview room.

"Sorry we're running a bit late," said the chief, "I had to change my trousers".

THE END]
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:27, 2 replies)

Fuck the Alphabet
It's always more fun if you've got a theme.

Too many years ago now a young lady of my acquaintance and myself worked our way through the alphabet. I think my favourite was "B": bedroom, beach, backseat, bar, bathroom, bath, bench, backyard, balcony, bus...

How the hell we missed bordello, boat and box office is beyond me.
( Udderbelly A tale of four titties, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:24, Reply)

Pier pressure....
Many years ago, mrs tinpixel and I had a midnight jaunt over to the gothtastic town of Whitby.

The sky was clear, the moon was full and the conversation as we walked down the dark, deserted pier grew increasingly pornographic. Perhaps it was only fitting that by the time we got to the lighthouse my upright cock was ready for action.

After a few minutes of great fellatio, I roughly took the missus from behind, pounding away as best I could as she gasped for more.

It was dark, but I could see her semi-naked silhouette faintly. Seeing her juices glistened on my cock in the moonlight soon pushed me over the edge; for a moment I swear I saw stars as I started to cum...

...and then I could see nothing - nothing but the 1,000,000 watt searchlight of a passing trawler, accompanied by the hoots, jeers and applause of a dozen fishermen - as my cock continued to unload its cargo, quite oblivious to the interruption.

I'm sure there's a joke about sea men in there somewhere.
(tinpixel, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:03, 1 reply)

Parking Lot Sex?
Now I suppose that wouldn't be that shocking.... had it not been in the middle of the parking lot about 6 at night with hardly any discretion.
Although it seemed like a good idea at the time, you know... with the heat of the moment and all that... I'm sure the police might not have seen it the same way...
(Argentum, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:01, Reply)