Thursday, 7 September 2017

Not quite... but almost

Inspired by Girl on the Net's post. Er, kind of.

While commenting on said post, I was struck - yet again - by the fact that I've never actually had sex outdoors. I mentioned that I've come close, but that one simple act (the one that features in a large number of my fantasies) has eluded me so far. As I get older, I'm almost resigning myself to the fact that it will never happen.

So, in order to make myself not feel completely ineffectual (and because I'm a sucker for a good listicle), here's a list of places I have had sex... even if none of them were in a churchyard, strapped to the side of a truck, in a farmer's field, or bent over on a bridge overlooking a motorway.

Which are all things my exes have done. Glod damn, do I feel undesirable right now.

In a motorhome

Rebecca's father sells motorhomes for a living... that is to say, he did. I'm pretty sure he still does, if he hasn't retired by now. We were on a kind of work-related holiday in Stratford; a lot of the family was there (except 47, who was busy or something), including some people that I didn't know existed. I don't even know much about motorhomes. I'd never been in one before, and the one I was most familiar with was from Sooty & Co. 

A lie she once told came back to haunt me on that trip, so it wasn't one I must enjoyed. But, while sitting in a park picking at grass, she told me how horny she was feeling, and how desperate she was. We stood up, walked briskly back to the big show field, and entered the family's motorhome. Squeezing into the tiny receptacle designed for one person above the driver's seat, we had a squashed, uncomfortable, but very illicit shag. Of course, nobody entered at the time, but they could have.

In a hotel room

But of course.

I like hotels. A lot of the best sex I've had has been in hotels, and even if I've been dumped in one - or left high and dry in another one - there's always a hotel breakfast afterwards. But the story above happened in a luxurious room with a huge window above a twinkly city - a window wide open without the curtains drawn. So, y'know, there's that, too.

In a jacuzzi (almost)

I like swimming. I like water, really; I can swim, I just prefer playing. Even if I can't float. Not keen on the way my body looks in a swimming costume, but hey ho.

I have mixed memories of this one. I remember a coin-operated hot tub (yes, really) that I felt Rebecca up in while everyone else trod lengths in the square pool. I remember a long, protracted snog with the drinking girl while in a "hot whirlpool" at Center Parcs. And I remember my third date with Catherine - at a spa hotel - where she told me that I couldn't slip my hard cock into her while we sat together in an outdoor jacuzzi. But that didn't stop her bringing herself off with it.

In a car

I almost didn't remember this one. That week at the beginning of 2001 is all a blur in my head; I hardly recall any of it, apart from all the heat and all the skin. Plus a fair amount of music and quite a lot of swimming.

Louise drove me around some of the pretty bits, on the fringes of some greenery and down some dirt roads (as well as many more well-maintained ones). It took up a whole day of a break which wasn't intended to be mainly shagging, but ended up being so. Horny girl as she was, she didn't want to exit the car as we pulled back into her driveway; she just hitched up her skirt, straddled me, and didn't stop bouncing for about ten minutes.

In a restaurant's disabled bathroom

With Louise again, only this time it wasn't because we were particularly horny. It was because the waiter took offence to our appearance and we wanted to do something fun just to piss him off.

In a tent

Yes! Achievement unlocked!

On a golf course

No, not really.

Those of you who have been reading for a fair amount of time may remember an incident at a house party which resulted in me writing a story about bouncy sex. I don't recall ever writing about the party, really - about the host (scene girl), or her guests, the fact that I did the dance to Single Ladies fairly accurately, or the massive clean-up effort that Robinson, Mane and I did together (as a surprise to her, so she wouldn't have to wash anything at the end of the party). I had my 'phone with me, though, so I may have tweeted it...

Anyway, her back garden (behind the trampoline) leads onto a small stretch of woodland... the sort you go crashing through when everyone's drunk and also members of an organisation who do a lot of foresting. It emerges, as I discovered that night, onto the local golf course, which is in fact a private one, for members of the posh club.

I didn't have sex on the fairway. I certainly ran the length of one, and picked up the girl-I-used-to-have-a-crush-on from a puddle on the green. I carried my sister's shoes for her, as she kept falling off the heels, and I joined in a lusty sing-song which we did just because we were on a golf course in the middle of the night. I cheered on the young raver as he ran off into the distance (and back again). But no actual sex occurred.

Which may be a shame. But you never know. I now know how to get into the golf course...

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