outdoor sex
Long time lurker , first time post.
Well a subject I have way too much experience of.(haha) I have been an outdoorsman since the first beginnings of my awakenings into the world of coupling. In my days of youth there was no way parents would allow you to get up to anything within the home. Let alone even think you were participating.
Anyway whilst walking in a poular beauty spot with a very horny Gfriend, we climbed to the top of a gorge settled down some comfy grass. Proceeded to get down to what we liked best. First a bit of oral warming, then down to the dirty. As I proceeded to give her a good pumping she was moaning away and even letting out the odd scream. I thought Wayhay! she's really enjoying this you sex god you. Well we eventually shot our bolts. Then the truth did out, Whilst I'd been steaming into her , her arse had been planted firmly on top of a thistle. Hence the occasional scream.
When I asked why she hadn't said anything, she said that she didn't want to stop coz the pleasure was outweighing the pain, and she didn't want to put me off my stroke. The little darling got more than one prick that afternoon.
As to other times there have been many, with many. And many viewed by onlookers. Happy days.
(pottyonetoo, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 19:07, Reply)

I only have sex in public.
And only after setting fire to a homeless person.

I'm a flaming hobosexual.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 18:06, 3 replies)

The student union
I was a bit of a shameless hussy in my second year of uni. No apologies for it, had a great time! Anywho, I'd been having a sort of fling with the education officer of the student union. He was incredibly welsh (from Aberdare, thick accent), but a sound guy and we were and still are good mates. One night we were in our university nightclub on campus and rather drunk. He turned round to me and said that we didn't have to pull everytime we went out as he didn't want to ruin our friendship. That was fine by me as I was sort of getting to know the assistant manager of the uni club at the time (much to the anger of the manager but that's another story). Then, 5 minutes later, he comes up to me at the bar where i'm standing with a mate to declare that some guy had just been sick on him in the mens bogs. Much hilarity and jibes. Then turns to me and asks if i wanted to go up to the sabbatical offices for a shag. Being drunk I said yes (he had washed hte sick off, it was only on his shoes). So we get the master key off the president, and make our drunken way upstaris, where I bump in to the assistant manager, who asked me where i was going. I told him I'd left some paperwork up in the office and was going to get it, at midnight on a friday night... oddly enough he believed me.

Anywho, much horizontal naked fun was had. On everyone's desks thanks to the joy of the master key. Got me in a bit of trouble on the monday, but we all laugh about it now. We decided to open the board room as there's a huge desk in there, and he proceeds to turn the light on. I went mental. He turned around and said he did it because he couldn't see. To which I replied, fair enough, but now all of the halls on campus could also see our drunken escapades. So that was how the first years that year saw a free porn show.

Would have gotten away with it if i havdn't knocked over a cup of coffee and left smear marks on the president's computer screen.

Length? He had a lot of stamina when he was drunk, and I had to explain why it too an hour to find a piece of paperwork to the assistant manager...
(timewarper, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 16:41, Reply)

Mother thinks her son doth protest too much.

Ah this QOTW has been a great catalyst for nostalgic musing upon when Rotimer was a virile stallion as opposed to a pasty fwapper.

During the long summer months of my teenage years (before we acquired Briggsy's house for our debauchery) we used to hang around outside the hospital next to my house.

It was a delightfully sprawling edifice but thankfully only about half of it was still in use and it only dealt with elderly patients meaning there were no screaming ambulances or security to speak of.

My mother used to be employed in the hospital doing a bit work in the kitchens and cleaning so her and her friends were well aware that we were lurking around doing naughty things like drinking and touching girlies boobs but we kept out of sight and they didn't waggle their fingers condescendingly.

However this all changed when I returned home one day from a good session of drinking cider to find my mother mid-way betwixt fury and mirth. Apparently one of her colleagues had told her that she saw me, pale white arse pumping away, having sex against a wall right outside the hospital kitchens.

Now as this was complete nonsense I obviously had a bit giggle and attempted to protest my innocence but alas my mother's friend had been very specific that it was my good self that she saw beavering away.

This is where I become confused as, at this point, I had long flowing hair reaching most the way down my back and wore a leather jacket. Now in Cestria in the time of my youth this was very rare, I'd only ever seen a couple of other blokes sporting long locks and let's face it I looked a prick in the leather jacket so I doubt anyone else would have been rushing to imitate me.

These facts worked totally against me and I was unable to make any headway convincing my mother that I was not the lucky participant in a knee-trembler. To this day she doesn't believe me.

So there we go, I got caught having sex in public by a friend of my mother and didn't even get the joy of dipping my wick to counter the shame of discovery.
(Rotimer was micturating windward at, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 16:34, 4 replies)

Public sex? Well,
In my younger days I partook in the old classics, like the damp grass park whilst lashed on White Lightning, I also once recieved a rather crap cheese grater blow job off some *ahem* classy young bird up against a giant wooden trojan horse in a kiddies playpark (before you start calling me a perv I was 15 at the time and it was late, after the local under 18s club.

More mature outdoor adventures include various cars. Has anyone tried doing the dirty deed in the back of a mini???!! It's frikkin' impossible when you're 6'1" and your partner is 5'4". Basically the less vertically challeneged one has to put one knee on the floor and the other on the seat, whilst your beloved has to masterfully shimmy their fun zone onto yours whilst simultaneously sliding their legs over your thighs, bending them at the knee and using the side of the car as a less than adequate pillow. Not at all comfy, especially when there is a small metal ashtray in the middle of the floor which you bang your knee on with every masterful thrust.

Other locations include:

A hay barn (hayfever = nasty rash on arsecheeks and back)
The luggage compartment on the Romney Hythe and Dymchurch railway
Herne bay promenade.

Aren't I romantic?
(Sir General ***WoW***, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 16:01, 3 replies)

I had a wank in a pub once
seriously though, my girlfriend's a supermodel
( Gilgamesh gazed in wonder as Frampton came alive, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 15:50, 5 replies)

Reading Festival 2006 repost
Was thinking I didn't have anything for this, then remembered this one from the Voyeurism question. I think it fits.

---------------------------------

They say festivals generally bring out the best/worst in people. The combination of sleeping in a field, drinking large amounts of alcohol and taking copious amounts of drugs tends to lower people's inhibitions quite a bit. Normally, this is a good thing. In some cases it's not. This is one of those cases.

It's mid afternoon on the Friday of the Reading Festival. I'm there thanks to £70 weekend tickets on eBay the week before and decide it'd be fun to walk up from the comedy tent to see Slayer on the main stage. Whoever was on before had just finished, made my way up to the front left. The ground's covered in rubbish. Cardboard beer cups, plastic bottles (some which seem to be full of piss), newspaper, dodgy festival noodles, etc. You don't really even want to sit down on it. Get down to the front and there's a fair bit of room as people are still filtering around. Look around, and there's a pretty wrecked looking couple sitting down and working on getting bits of food out of each other's teeth by the look of things. Wait around a bit killing time, look back over and they're getting a bit more passionate about the necking rolling about on the floor in the rubbish. Shudder and kill time playing spot the parent. Look back over... Oh god... Her skirt's up and his boxers are down over his arse crack... Surely they're not... Yup, they are.

Here's some a couple of pictures for your enjoyment. Just before people started throwing anything they could get their hands on (click for big).

NSFW Pic 1

NSFW Pic 2
(MattWPBS, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 15:36, 3 replies)

couple of years ago
the bloke and i were pissed and horny waiting for a cab or nightbus or anything that didn't involve me walking in heels.

it was about 3am and there were no cabs in sight. so we started snogging, and soon enough we were pressed hard and fast up against the wall of the doorway of a big shop on regent street (that may be famous for its beige and red check pattern). i slithered drunkenly to my knees and unzipped him. all was going well; he was loving it, i was loving it, and someone thoughtful had even left a few rugs on the step so that my knees weren't hurting...

and then it happened. one second he was on the vinegars, telling the world that he was coming; the next, the smooth, hard courgette in my mouth was shrivelling fast into a button mushroom. the moaning had also turned into a rather terrified whimpering.

i spat out the mushroom and turned round. glaring and swearing incoherently at us was a huge and filthy tramp, the kind that london specialises in, so wrapped up in newspapers and many layers of clothes, that he was about 6 feet wide. and he was seriously unimpressed. the bloke posted his now tiny cock back into his trousers, and we ran back down regent street, sparkly heels or not. and as we did, the tramp's final curse rang out as clear as a bell:

"how would you like it if i fucked in YOUR bed?"
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 15:18, 1 reply)

Long ago in a valley far far away
Chatting to an old mate this morning, he reminded me of this event.
It being a very long time ago and for obvious reasons I'd forgotten a lot of it.
Anyway, he and I went off on a forage for some shrooms.
There was a field , well off the beaten track at the bottom of a valley that looked promising.
And sure enough, there they were.
Now it was a well known fact amongst the gang that I had very little tolerance for the slimy little things, while friends would glomp down handfuls, 10 would have me tripping out for a whole day.
I decided to eat one, just to give me a nice little buzz.
So there we are wandering happily along, filling paper bags with our booty.
Seems I decided it would be a nice gesture of thanks for bringing me to this magical place with its smiling trees and happy grass to offer him sex.
Up until this point he was just a mate, the older brother of my best friend, but he told me I was mumbling something about rainbow orgasms while throwing my clothes off and flopping onto the grass.
Now he being a gallant chap he wasnt going to turn down the chance to help a damsel in need.
I giggled when he pulled his trousers down, I giggled a bit more when he got down on his knees.
And started laughing hysterically when he got on top of me.
And wouldnt stop, couldnt stop.
Apparently laughing hysterically when you are being plodged isnt a big turn on, and he gave up after a while.
It was nearly 3 hours before I was composed enough to get dressed and get back to the car.
I didnt see him again for another week.
Briefly as he was leaving my friends house, I tried to say sorry, but he just grinned and said I owed him one.
Weve been best mates for years now, and we never did.
He married a woman I introduced him to.
Just before he hung up the phone today he said
You still owe me one, and I could hear his wife laughing in the background.
(insomniac-surfer oh go on then, just this once, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 14:30, Reply)

The principle

It had been a long and enjoyable night. There was a group of around 8 of us drinking and getting stoned in our mate Briggsy's bedroom. Briggsy's mother was the coolest, happy to allow us to abuse ourselves in ways various in the comfort of his bedroom when most teenagers were forced to endure the elements when they wished to poison their bodies.

Not only that but she'd happily down a few bottles of wine with us at parties and supply endless amounts of toast and tea whenever we were afflicted with "the munch". All in all the perfect host.

Anyway, to cease making a short story long, we had spent the night chucking loads of beer down our necks and passing a goodly number of spliffs around whilst singing our hearts out to the delightful strains of Lagwagon, Me First & the Gimme Gimme's and the like.

As the booze ran out everyone found themselves a clear bit of floor space and one by one slipped from consciousness.

Pleasantly piddled I smoked a final spliff before laying down next to my girlfriend and drifting away, only to be awoken a short while later by some furtive noises.

Focusing my intoxicated and sleep baffled eyes I quickly realised that Ron and his young lady were lying but a scant few inches from my head and Ron was gently feeding his pork intruder into her dirtbox whilst she whispered words of encouragement.

As their unholy union was consummated, and with the musty scent of pierced rectum filling my nostrils, I slurred "It's the principle of the thing!" before lapsing back into the refuge of sleep.

Still didn't stop the buggers from finishing off though.
(Rotimer was micturating windward at, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 14:17, 4 replies)

Open-Air Fail
Despite several previous open-air rendezvous with a very sexy, pretty lady friend that included a degree of under the clothes caressing, I still completely failed to register that she had a thing for alfresco sex. The fact that she was up for sex with me was also a sign that I completely failed to pick up on.
Another meeting was arranged at a local beauty spot in the forest which had a special significance to her; A much-loved pet's ashes were scattered there. Okay, I think to myself, sexy tiem probably not on the cards here, respectful, caring, supportive hat on to visit peaceful resting place of late pet. Still its a nice day so I'll take the motorbike and that way I'll be sure of at least one good ride. On with boots, leather trousers, leather jacket and all the other sensible protective gear.
So we met up, parked up, and strolled to the spot amongst the trees by the pond, with the sunlight streaming through the leaves. Guessing that she may be feeling a bit sad thinking of the lost pet I put a comforting arm around her and expounded on what a beautiful location it was. (Smooth, ain't I?)
My cunning ploy worked and passionate snogging ensues, quickly followed by unbuttoning her top inviting more intimate caresses.

Now, leather trousers on a motorbike are entirely sensible and reasonable. 60 mph airflow keeps everything cool and comfortable. If you are not doing 60mph and are in fact in an intimate embrace with a sexy lady in direct sunlight heavy leather trousers get you very hot and sweaty. Its at this point I realise that there is no chance of removing these trousers with dignity or indeed, at all with my hot swollen sweaty thighs and even if you did it wouldn't be very pleasant.

If my self-imposed chastity trousers aren't frustrating enough some other people show up walking through the woods and now I feel it would be the gentlemanly thing to do to cover my would-be lovers' nakedness by wrapping her in my arms and keeping my back to the newcomers. My hands now firmly on her back, sexy eye contact lost and painfully throbbing in my impenetrable crash-proof trousers the moment is lost for me and I mentally stamp my foot and cry "Its not fair!"
I discretely button up her top, still shielding her from the unwelcome visitors, and head back to the car park but at least I sensed a degree of disappointment in her.

At least I think I did. If I could reliably sense these things I wouldn't have taken the motorbike, I would have driven a car with a picnic blanket, and some strawberries to share. and come to think of it, she didn't seem as disturbed by the presence of the other forest visitors I imagined she was. Bah!
(Rich T has a clever and witty sig, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 13:46, Reply)

Don't befriend your family on Facebook
Have just got off the phone from calling up a mate to abuse the crap out of him, thoroughly bringing his Saturday night party buzz down.

Meredith Music Festival is the scene. In the interests of brevity, I'll break it down to three dot points:

1. Met a young'un, who was very much up for it.
2. It rained sideways for the whole three days.
3. I brought my own vehicle along.

Well, this pretty much sorts itself, thinks I. However, I've clearly neglected a vital consideration

4. Never trust a munted pervert with a camera.

Our 'official photographer' has finally posted the festival photos he took onto Facebook. Only took a scant 5 months to achieve, but hey, the busy schedules of part-time uni students/'pharmaceutical distributors' are clearly not to be trifled with.

In amongst the photos of all of us wandering around looking like half-drowned rats with eyes like saucers, is a particularly eye-catching presentation snapped from outside the rear window of my car. It's not a good look.

No one should ever have to see their own HBMA. More to the point, no-one's Mum should ever see her son's HBMA.

Thank god I've already opted out of Sunday roast with the family tomorrow. There's a few topics of conversation best avoided.
(Chewy Walrus says: It's slobberin' time!, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 13:31, 3 replies)

I got caught
in a delicate position with a lass on top of a picnic table by a forestry warden.
( social hand grenade I was a lurker before you were a lurker, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 13:00, 2 replies)

does this count?
Other than my one outdoor time, recounted earlier in this qotw, I'm also guilty of wanking not once, but twice in classes when I was at school. Shame I ended up with all spunks in my kex, but hey - you can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs. I got wanked off a couple of times too, but I can't claim all the credit for that.
( CaptainCrackerjack live trout, slow motion, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 10:41, Reply)

perfect day

Every now and then comes along a day that in hindsight becomes one of life’s ‘perfect days’ they seem good at the time but it takes the slow passing of years and the loss of youth and innocence to mature them into fully formed perfection.

Sunshine is usually a contributory factor, followed by some good sex and if your lucky a drink or two, some decent food and a few laughs along the way. Many moons ago I enjoyed such a day with a lovely young filly who would go on to become Mrs Spimf. I was studying art in Dundee at that time, the earlier part of the day seemed a bit of a drag – I had some coursework to do – I suppose looking back I had an easy ride towards my degree, virtually no academic work, very few lectures to attend - life was good. I had a linocut to do over the weekend, hardly a 5000 word essay. The future Mrs Spimf had come to spend the weekend with me. So we decided to transform the task in hand into a day out, a picnic was prepared, some lino cutting tools and sketches thrown in a bag, and off we set. I say the early part of the day was a drag mainly because we were trying to find a spot to picnic, never an easy task for the fussy type I am – we were driving alongside the River Tay heading towards Perth to find an ideal spot, after a many aborted attempts and some deal of bickering we finally struck gold. A perfect spot. We could park the car away from the road – then a short hike across a meadow of long grass and wildflowers buzzing with bees and butterflies, which then opened to reveal small grassy clearing among the Bulrushes that proliferated along the banks of the silvery Tay. By now we were just outside Perth so the river was slow shallow and picturesque. It was a baking hot day in late spring with big white fluffy clouds on the horizon and clear blue skies above. After a while, and some initial trepidation on Mrs Spimf's part, we were naked on a rug, the sun had warmed the lino I was working with so the tools cut through it like butter. Soon enough my thoughts turned from lino tools - as I lay blissfully naked in the warm slender arms of my love a small prop engine plane buzzed lazily high above us. Mrs Spimf made a grab for her clothes and was more than slightly miffed when I laughed: “calm down there’s no way the could see us from up there”. This seemed to placate Mrs Spimf so much so I was soon enjoying some more alfresco action – right up to the point the fuckers came tearing over the trees at the edge of the meadow, so low we could see their leering faces in the cockpit. bastards.

Still a perfect day – and a buzz too.
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 10:08, Reply)

There's a school of thought over on the talk board
That if you post about your sex life on the internet, it didn't happen. So, rather than break that rule, I shall share a thought.

Does anyone think that song by the Drifters, "Under the Boardwalk" is actually a song about making the beast with two backs in public?
( jim_bob can herd cats., Sat 25 Apr 2009, 10:02, 1 reply)

The Castle Hill Tav, if anyone's familiar with the Hills district. Slight pearoast
Chatted to a 19 year old for a bit on MSN. She tells me she's toey as a Roman sandal, and needs a good seeing-to.

We arrange to meet at the salubrious venue mentioned.

We went back to my car, which was parked all of 30 metres away in the street. Neither of us gave a fuck if we were seen.

She rode me while I lay back in the front passenger seat of my car. As she was dismounting, she left a nice sweaty arse-print on the inside of the passenger side of the windscreen.

I left that there for posterity, and as a boast for friends who noticed it.

I was 36 at the time. I was rather proud of that effort.
(David CopAFeel Used to be The_Elcat - Spouting crap since 1970., Sat 25 Apr 2009, 3:43, Reply)

I don't know why we bother
Every week, the QOTW is just a celebration of Spanky Hanky's sordid past.

Not that I mind, given how good his tales are, but fuck me, it leaves little room for us mere mortals
(David CopAFeel Used to be The_Elcat - Spouting crap since 1970., Sat 25 Apr 2009, 3:38, 1 reply)

Crypt
standard lurker 1st time poster blah blah

crypt, need i say more . . . . well i am

Mr Douglas and random lady from the orchestra i was playing in at that point took a bit of a teenage liking to each other. Thing went on over the months but nothing major.

Coming up to probably the biggest concert we would have (wherein i was blowing a baboon, the big version of a ducks arse) she decided whe wanted it.

I could not say no!!

After trying to find a quiet spot in the basement where the rest of the orchestra where either tuning up or playing cards we found a small flight of stairs. Thinking this would be a great place to play about a bit we went down. We found a wall and started getting down to the dirty deed.

Twas great fun until we noticed a torch.

The torch went straight past us but then focused on the contents of the crypt. Mr Douglas' bobo went into hiding for a long time after that.

Seeing a skull stare at you while you are ramming away like a fucktard, NOT GOOD!!

Lengh = dont care, it works!!
(Dougal_Monsta, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 23:46, Reply)

The coke bottle
Back when I was much much younger and still in School, trying desperately to get my funk on with just about any female willing to try it (little did I know that it wouldn't happen for several years to come), I somehow befriended someone who would later become one of my better male friends in School.

His name was Ryan. Before you get excited, no I did not bum him, nor did he bum me and, sadly, this part of the story more revolves around him than me.

Anyhoo, being at an all-boys school certainly wasn't helping my heterosexual case at all, but little did I know that Ryan was, in fact, gay. I had no problem with this, he had always been a good friend to me in a strictly friends-only sense and in fact I was a little bit intrigued. I'd never met a gay person before, despite Ulster apparently being the gay capital of the world (if that statistic includes lesbians, it sure as hell explains a lot on my end, but I digress...).

The day Ryan came out to me was an interesting one. He didn't confess his love to me or anything, I just had a damn good intuitive sense about things. For instance, being young boys we would naturally imply that the other loved the cock. One day, as per normal, I said something like "Ahh Ryan you big Gay, you love the cock". Naturally, he responded "No I don't!", for fear of being assaulted by any of the Chavvy types that might be listening nearby. I then replied with "sure you do, I bet you had a lovely big cock right up your arse last night and everything", to which he replied "...n...no!".

What was that?
A pause?!?

"Wait a second!"
"w...wha-?"
"y..you....you did! You really did!".
My voice quickly died down, yet there was clear exclamation.

I had always suspected Ryan was a bit gay, that was half the reason I teased him about it, but he always denied it. Until now.

"You're gay, aren't you? Just admit it!"
"...ok....yeah...but don't tell anyone"

Ryan was gay. Suddenly the world made a lot of sense, for the brief few seconds before he made his next comment:

"I lost my virginity last night"

At this point, I'm still in a little bit of shock at Ryan finally coming out, then he lands that bombshell. I'm all for equality, but I didn't really need to know that. I think my brain was still processing it.

"We did it in the hedge just outside 'spoons"

Ahh the local drinking establishment. Low-brow enough to serve those who are barely 16, let alone 18. Suddenly things start to make sense.

Ryan then proceeded to go into quite graphic detail about how he got bummed in this hedge for the first time. My fragile brain was beginning to crumble under the pressure.

Amidst Ryan's descriptions, he added "...I had so much fun, I dropped my bottle of coke!".

That was the end of his story and now I had some of the best graphic imagery of one of my best mates getting bummed for the first time. Fan. Tastic.

Skip forward about a week and suddenly, my ship had come in. One of the local, not-quite-so-posh girls got drunk enough to kiss me. With Tongue. Woo-hoo!
Next came actual gropage. I could have came right there and then and still been brimming with joy, but I didn't expect her to do that thing where they wink at you with her tongue sticking out. I knew what this COULD mean, but while I was busy processing it, she was already tugging at my arm.
She drags me off away from the other people who were out having a drink and a spliff that night, around the corner.
Soon enough, we reach a hedge that she pulls me into. She pushes me onto my back and that's when it REALLY starts to get heated. This was it. This was my big moment. Mr Wrigly and I were about to set sail, I was about to become a man. And she was pretty hot, as well. I didn't care that she was a bit skanky, I didn't care that she was quite drunk and I was completely sober, I wanted this, I wanted this so bad. I did care, however, that something was sticking into my back.

"Hold on a second, love" (Because in Belfast City, everyone is either "mate" or "love").

I reach under and pull something out. It was a half empty Coke-bottle.
I immediately realised where I was. I was in the bushes outside wetherspoon's. I was holding the bottle of Coke Ryan lost. I was in the exact same spot he lost his Anal virginity.

And that's when the images came. They were graphic enough without knowing the scenery, now I knew the layout, how hidden it was, what you could see. I was probably looking at the exact same telegraph poll he was when he was on his back (Yes, apparently gay people can do it like that as well, you just have to raise their legs a...nevermind). I could even see what looked like hand prints in the dirt. Hand prints. Pretty dug in, too. He must have been ridden pretty hard.

Hard. I remember that feeling. That feeling that disappeared the second I realised what the object poking into my back was. I wasn't the only person to be "Poked in the back" in those hedges.

Fuck.

Mr Wrigly had gone home for the night, cowering away in fear at the nasty thoughts going through my head. It didn't take long for "the one" to get bored and hop off to go look for a "real man" who could "get it up".
My chance. Gone.
All because of a Gay boy called Ryan. Who incidentally became a complete whore and figured since I was the only one who knew about him, that he could tell me everything. EVERYTHING.

I wouldn't lose my virginity for 2 more years later.

Fuck.


P.S. Sorry about the length, but Ryan thought the girth was fantastic.
(Kushan just wants to fit in..to your mum, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 22:48, 6 replies)

A Bandstand in November
Skived off double games to meet up with my girlfriend. It was freezing in the park, so much so that the only way she could get it to rise up was to French kiss me (French kiss + teenage boy = Pants Soldier standing tall and saluting) and do a kind of cupping her hands round it / blowing warm breath onto it / sucking it like fury / alternated with more tongue down throat.

11/10 for effort. 9/10 for the nosh. 10/10 for swallowing it. 15/10 for impromptu use of scarf to hide the throbber when a man and his dog walked past.

Length? Enough to give her hamster cheeks when it went off.
(randomstupidname would really like this signature field to be bigge, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 22:05, 1 reply)

milky splurts on a coach
Once while we were on a coach journey from Nottingham to Torquay, my wife got her boob out to feed the baby (who's now 13) and squirted milk half way up the aisle, where it landed on a blokes shoulder. He felt something and looked around, but didn't figure it out. It was very hard not to crack up while he was looking suspiciously behind him...

She managed this even though I was on the aisle seat, by the way...

Sorry it's not sex.
(teasus likes tea, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 22:00, Reply)

Like 'shrooms.
Taking 'shrooms outside is always better than inside. Like sex is better outside- under a sky of shooting stars, on a beach, at the top of a cliff, rooting the missus up against a tree, boulder etc. Tragically, for the last 8 months, I've only been able to deal myself five-knuckle shuffles. I'm amazed I'm not wearing milkbottle glasses. Sigh.

"Hello," right hand. "Hello," Dellamorte.
(Dellamorte Dellamore Fuck it all, fuck it up, fuck it., Fri 24 Apr 2009, 21:35, Reply)

Poison Ivy Patch
yes, really. By complete accident of course.
Scratching and itching for over a week.
(gaustoninDC, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 21:22, Reply)

A special treat

*pop*

A slack handful of years ago, back when Rotimer was slender, handsome, and the proud owner of a fine head of hair, before he morphed into the tubby, bald monstrosity that currently lurks behind a beard, I used to have a ladyfriend.

We'd meet up with some mates of a Wednesday and head along to the Head of Steam for the Ministry of Skank and get happily steamed whilst nodding our heads to a selection of ska and ska punk classics. If I recall correctly it was the same classics each week with minor, if any, variation.

This particular night proceeded as normal, many a bottle of Budvar was raised, a goodly amount of trips were made out behind the casino to have a quick burn and as the bar staff called time we began to peel ourselves off the sofas and depart upon our various paths.

Me and the missus staggered to the bus stop, hopped on the last connection to Cestria and slumped upon the back seat.

After a bit of sickeningly gratuitous teenage necking on the missus, with a sly grin upon her face, whispered she had a special treat for me and proceeded to deftly infiltrate my jeans and free what lurks within before lowering her head and applying herself with gusto.

"Blimey," thought I "what a treat"

Now I'm not particularly into public displays (Aside from friends at parties... strangely my brain seems to think it's okay to fuck in front of friends) but as there was only a few people on the bus and I was rather pissed (and let's not forget, male) I wasn't going to turn down a blow job.

So as velvety lips and a silky soft tongue applied themselves vigorously to my nether regions I lay my head back, closed my eyes and...

...was gently shook awake by my girlfriend as the bus approached our stop. Apparently mere moments after the fellatio began I fell sound asleep and snored all the way home.

My girlfriend was thankfully amused by the whole affair and kindly tucked me back in rather than leaving Little Rotimer dangling in the breeze for all to see.

What a darling eh?
(Rotimer was micturating windward at, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 21:15, 3 replies)

outdoor fun
i was a teenager at a party late one night. me and this guy were constantly sneaking away from everyone else to screw. only no one knew. so on this night, we were all outside at someone's house. me and guy sneak across the street to a field. once out of sight, we instantly go at each other. first he's on top, then i'm on top. we finish and wander back unsuspectingly to the party.
until...someone says, "what the hell is on your back?" just as i am about to check out my back, i see guy's back and so does everyone else.
both of our clotes looked as if they had been dipped in a reddish purple dye. yes, we screwed on top of a field of berries.
(saragedeon, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 21:10, Reply)

Up against a gate
Oh my oh my, how many times have we been caught in publc? Well this was one of the most amusing...

We'd spent the weekend with my sister and husband and been sooooo well behaved but were both gagging for it. The small chance of walking my sister's bull terrier came around and like a shot we volunteered. Now I need to state that we're two guys, big, tattooed, shaved heads and at the time looked like two members of the National Front about to kick off and cause a riot. So there's me, 6ft tall Hando (that's the guy from Romper Stomper) look-alikee walking along with this daft as f*ck bull terrier with my boyfriend who's jsut a smaller version of me into the fields when lust got the better of both of us and the dog gets tied to a gate and we get down to it.
Bf has his jeans round his ankles, head through a five bar gate and a bottle of poppers rammed up his nose by yours truly while I get down (or is it up?) to business in no uncertain terms and am away with the fairies (good choice of phrase there!) when I suddenly realise that I'm humping thin air. I turn round and there are this middle aged couple with a small yappy dog, standing wide-eyed and open-mouthed looking at this skinhead in bleached jeans, doc marten boots with his knob sticking up to the sky about 10 foot from them, panting like he's run the 100metre sprint in record time. Boyfriend has done a runner into the long grass in the field next to us. Now I've never seen wrinkly people turn and run like they did. I mean it's one thing catching a couple at it but two skinheads going at it hell for leather is another. They disappeared like someone had put fireworks up their arses. At least they would have had something interesting to talk about at their dinner party with their nice friends that night. Funnily enough my sister had guessed exactly what we were up to and asked if anything "happened" while we were out. I denied everything and didn't tell her exactly what happened until several years later.

2xtrouble (cos we're always in it)
(doubletrouble, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 21:09, 1 reply)

Again, early 1990s...
Before I met Mr Twaddle, I was a horny young minx who was indulging in a bit of extra marital knee trembling with a very horny mechanic. At every available opportunity, in any available place. Including my place of work - a small, visual entertainment rental place with an even smaller back office. He came in one evening, a bit of dirty talk and one full on snog over the counter later and we were at it like the hammer and tongs that everyone talks about, in the tiny back office. With the door open. If you were a member coming in to hire or return a movie that night, you were most likely served by a manically smiling Ms Twaddle, who was commando, and quite possibly bra-less. And also mid shag. Well, the "customer comes first" was a bit of a farce that night.

What a fucking turn on!
(pussy twaddle performs indiscretions in branches of Millets..., Fri 24 Apr 2009, 21:08, Reply)

FORE!!!
In the bunker in front of the green at the 13th hole on the Oaks Park golf course Surrey. Sand up the chuff doesn't half wear the old chap, red raw.
(Rollins, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 20:45, 1 reply)