Many moons ago
when I was young free and single, I was invited to a friend's house party where, during the day, we prepared for the nights debauched vulgarity by filling the fridges (one in the kitchen and one in the garage connected to the house) with booze and making a foul punch out out vodka, fruit cocktail & 5 Alive in a pan.

The night went swimmingly, we laughed, we imbibed, we got rather munted and vey silly. Ffw to later in the evening where I was sat in the kitchen with a bottle of tequilla and my friends coquettish female housemate - There was a bit of mutual attraction and conversation got skirted around racy and wound up with the realisation that neither of us had had sex in a car. "My car's in the garage" quoth she, so a duvet was procured and I drunkenly put seats down in her wee hatchback.

After what 1980's pool signs described as heavy petting an inebriated me went down on the young lady, in all probability I inexpertly slobbered all over her vagina but I remember her laid in the back of this car, eyes closed with my face buried deep in her mimsy and then horror ...... A fellow party goer shuffled along to the fridge, removed a beer and turned to leave. Right before he clocked us, leaned over the rear windscreen, made eye contact with me over her bush and gave a cheesy grin and thumbs up before leaving.

Now time is great at papering over the cracks in our memories but after that it was all a blank. The fact that the next morning I woke up inside a small, garaged hatchback, stark bollock naked with a wizened and empty condom still on my flaccid cock meant only one thing; I fell asleep on the job and my paramour fled in disgust at my inept, drunken & rather sleepy attempt at shagging.

No Honda Accords were defiled in the making of this post.
(SpunkyMcSpunkbubble Diddled your nubbin on, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 20:58, Reply)