Good Times


In the heady days of art school, my girlfriend at the time would often be feeling a little frisky, and enjoyed a quick shag in my car, an empty room - wherever was available really. Being a new school year, there were people running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to find their respective classes.

There was one stairwell in particular that lead to an unlocked door, into an alcove about 5 feet square, with a locked door opposite. As my girlfriend was rather petite, it was a perfect place to pin her up and knock her about in spastic glee. No one ever went down there, because it didn't lead anywhere (duh).

So, imagine our surprise , as a girl no more than 18 opened the door, no doubt expecting a classroom of spotty keeners, only to find my pants around my knees, my girlfriend on hers, with a mouthful of "fine art" as it were. The poor girl turned white as a sheet as we looked in her direction; I was fully at attention as she screamed and, I assume, left the building, because I never saw her again, hopefully having either scarred her for life or turned her into some sex crazed deviant.
(goorf, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 22:55, 1 reply)

So,
were you a teacher or a student at the time?
( Ghoti Fingers, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 23:45, closed)