b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Public Sex » Post 409548 | Search
This is a question Public Sex

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

Thanks to SpankyHanky, Chart Cat and others for the suggestion

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

« Go Back

A story that starts in a club, but isn't soley about it
I have before mentioned my love of dingy Reading indie spots and this story is no different. I was 17 and we were at the After Dark. For those of you that don’t know, allow me to set the scene. The night is called Seasame Street, run by Tom & Johnny two of the oldest swingers in town, and as far as I know it is still going, 15 years later. The door policy was and probably still is relaxed and the crowd made up of the select scenesters from Reading and Henley College.

Getting there is an almost mystical experience. Your train pulls into the station, you pick up some cheap cider and walk across the town centre, exiting the other side you climb a hill and stare aware for the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it alleyway. Down there, under the torn and faded awning are the hallowed doors. The doors open at 9 and by 8.30 there is a massive queue, you see entry before 9.30 is free and money must be saved for warm Red Stripe and chasing the worm down the bottle of tequila. By 10 it is carnage and it continues in a glorious morass of sweaty, heaving, teenage bodies and a palpable fug of pheromones and fag smoke until 2am.

The problem is though, that for many the last train home is 1.40. And this poses the problem: Do you leave early, lurching through the town, sweat sodden and coming down hard, or do you stay to the end and wring every moment out of the night? Your nerves endings tingling with lust, the freedom of alcohol and music and the raw sexuality of the night. Well, durr. You stay. You stay and try to scam your way back with a girl whose worried Daddy had given her taxi money so she would get home safely. Normally this wasn’t a problem, I knew a couple of these girls and prostituting myself with a snog on the back seat was a happy price to pay to get home.

And this is where it went all so wrong and yet very right. You see this night was different, I was with my new girlfriend. I had in fact stolen her off a mate, along with his leather jacket. She was stunning, long blonde hair, an angry pout, slender curves and lovely, lovely legs. She was in the standard 90’s indie girl outfit of short little summer dress, thick black tights, floppy, semi laced DM’s and cloud of white musk. Everything about was needling the arousal centres of my brains (big and little), in fact to this day I cannot smell White Musk without achieving a near instant semi and a desire to spaff all over a pair of dirty Doc Martins, but I digress.

Strangely that night my usual taxi lady chums weren’t too keen on offering me and my girlfriend a lift back. In hindsight I should have though of that, but it was tool late I had spent all of our money on booze and fags. No taxi, no train, no bus, no money. Arses.

“It’s a gorgeous summer night, why don’t we take a lovely romantic moonlight walk back to mine. We can smoke a little weed and stop every now and again for a little snog. It’ll be great”
“Sounds lovely, lets go. Um, how far is it?”
“’bout seven miles”

Anyway, with a little charm and persuasion we began to make our way back. It was indeed a fine evening, we did indeed smoke a little weed, and the snogs just became more and more furious. It was getting hard to contain ourselves. We walked on, her hand in my jeans and mine in her dress, we had to stop soon. As luck would not have it we were walking down the A4, heading for Twyford (for those of you that know it), it was a long, open, exposed road with no-where to dart off. I was priapic to the point of pain at this point and she was complaining of damp knickers, we were so hot we were steaming into the early morning air. And then inspiration struck. The male mind hell bent on a shag is truly the mother of all invention.

“That roundabout! It’s ringed with bushes, no one can see in, besides the road is pretty much deserted”

This was true, apart from the occasional supermarket truck on its late night run there was nobody on the road.

“Go on then”

Those floppy DM’s flew across the tarmac, and by the time I caught up the tights were off and her beautiful ivory bum was thrust in the air, glowing like fine china under the moonlight. I have to say that entering her at that moment may possibly be the most sense screamingly intense moment of my life, we were both utterly wrapped in what we were doing, all our attention directed at the fire where we met, a perfect sexual union.

Which is why, my face contorted in ecstasy, I looked up from her wondrous behind, with its delicate winking hole and saw the trucks circling, cabs perfect height above the bushes.

I thought for a second, redoubled my efforts and give them the pull-chain horn action.

I came like a rocket to an airhorn chorus
(, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 12:13, 13 replies)
Haha, brilliant.
Thanks for the laugh, and have a click sir.
(, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 13:14, closed)
Why thank you
*doffs cap*
(, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 13:50, closed)

Expertly written, involving and funny as badgerfuck.

(, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:12, closed)
High praise
indeed. Ta
(, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 14:42, closed)
Close to home
I cycle down that route every day on my way to work .... Thanks for brightening up my mornings! I assume it was what everyone refers to as the "Sonning roundabout", just so I know when I should be smiling!
(, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 17:00, closed)
the bugger. A later girlfriend tried to kill me there some years after that
(, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 19:47, closed)
Now thats
absolutely fucking marvellous! Love it, matey!
(, Fri 24 Apr 2009, 17:15, closed)
For conducting
the horn section while in ratcheting piston mode - *clicky*
(, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 3:34, closed)
cracking story
(, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 8:49, closed)
Hahaha, making me grin wildly this is
as I munch on a jacket potato.

(, Sun 26 Apr 2009, 13:39, closed)
Well played sir, Well played...
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 14:05, closed)
"I came like a rocket to an airhorn chorus"
That line alone is clickworthy, sir
(, Mon 27 Apr 2009, 15:36, closed)
Fantastic sir, a vertible chuckle-fest all the way through with a bonus guffaw eliciting punchline.

(, Tue 28 Apr 2009, 12:29, closed)

« Go Back

Pages: Latest, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, ... 1