Monday, 29 October 2012


Last night I had sex in my own bed, with my parents in the next room (hopefully) sleeping. This isn't a new occurrence - it's happened before, quite a lot of times, but it's admittedly been a long, long, long time since it last happened, and therefore I needed to revisit the different states of being that you go through while indulging in flagrante delicto with them in earshot.

(For those of you who are curious, it's an unusual mixture of glee, guilt and maximum horn. I'm aware that sounds like a cocktail. Multiple Screaming Orgasm plus plus.)

A number of things have influenced how my parents may react since I last had a girl in my bed. They are considerably older than before. My dad's going deaf and my mother has had Parkinson's for a while; this doesn't affect her hearing too much, but my dad - bless him - has taken to reading her books (รก la the audiobooks he records, cf. what I used to do for TD), and when they don't do that, they listen to chill-out music (or whale song) while trying to sleep. It makes a nice change from BBC Radio Five Live, but I digress. The point is, their ears aren't usually attuned to exactly what's going on in my room, and the wall is quite thick. Creaking bedsprings aren't a problem, exactly.

What's a problem is the noises of sex.

It's not exactly an unknown quantity with this girl. She's loud. Not exactly a massive screamer, but loud sex is often good sex and she's a firm subscriber to that. In her house (as long as her roommates are absent, which they often are), that's not so much of a problem. I'm pretty sure my parents don't object to us having sex, but it's not really a subject I feel comfortable broaching with them; ergo, I'm not sure making someone scream in the room next to them is the best of ideas. Unless I had sex-positive parents, and I'm not entirely sure I do.

I've never asked.

Anyway. Undeterred (read: turned on), we went for it anyway, and although it was fantastic sex, I was still a little concerned about how we would get around the auditory problem. Putting my hands around her neck would constitute breath play and possibly murder, and I'm not really into that. Hand over mouth is offensive, and it means you can't kiss, and smothering the face with a pillow is a bit too Othello for my tastes. But, as it turned out, there weren't any particular problems in that area. I'm fairly silent in bed myself - except for when I turn into a wolf, and that only happens at full moon - and, although she did make the noises (for which I am grateful, I like eliciting them), she did a very good job of keeping them to an acceptable level - although she did need to use the pillow at one point.

She also let me know that she appreciated what I was doing through the movements of her body, whispered words of encouragement, staring into my eyes and letting girlcum tell the story... which I also appreciated, natch. Plus, if it did show sounds of getting loud, I could always replace moans with kisses. Mad skillz, innit. That's what makes for good sex. Really, really, really good sex.

I need my own place. Someone offer me a job? Or a free room?

1 comment:

ladypandorah said...

Sex at the parental's home...I usually find I have to bite down into my hand...

Your description for the cocktail of feelings is spot on, by the way.

Cheers, ILB! ;)
LP x