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September 02, 2004

Sex in Canada

Only click on the extended entry below if you're okay with knowing anything about my sex life.

Sex on a trip always sounds fun and easy. In the movies or in books, people just start having sex. The temperature is always perfect, the scenery is suited for leaning/reclining, and nothing ever interrupts.

We’re driving through New Brunswick, and I’m definitely feeling frisky. This large province is basically one giant forest with ten people and ten thousand moose. I’m not sure if the moose hormones were in the air, or just having a sexy guy in the passenger seat, but we couldn’t wait until the evening. We found a nice little side road in the middle of the province and got out of the car. We started to have some fun. I’m on my knees, Derrick is making all the right noises, the moose are alarmed. We switch, my shirt gets peeled off, sweat is trickling down my chest. I’m really having fun.

Slap.

Not bondage. The mosquitoes have found me. Still enjoying myself.

Slap. Slap.

Not enjoying myself.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Definitely not bondage. More like a porn version of the Three Stooges.

I didn’t think to buy Deep Woods Off, even though I have fantasies about sex in the woods. We make a hasty escape back into the car. Safely ensconced in the car, I tilt the seat back. Derrick is stroking me, playing with my chest, driving me insane. Not as sexy as pushed up against a tree, but still quite fun. My moans and motions get more urgent, and I shoot.

This would be the end of the story except that I’m quite the shooter. I always have to point down or I’ll hit the wall behind me every time. Derrick neglected to block or point down, so I shoot all over, including over him, over my chest, over my head and all the way onto the back seat.

The back seat really would have just been a minor cleaning problem, except that the gifts to his parents are in the corner of the back seat. Since they are chocolates and sweets, I really don’t want them to have the extra gift or think the chocolates are too sweet. “No ma’am, that’s not cream filling.”

Thank the gods that they were in a plastic bag. My latest offering to the orgasm god managed to get EVERYWHERE but the inside of the bag.

I could only do this in a rental car.

Posted by G at September 2, 2004 01:44 AM

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» Frisky Friday from bob's yer uncle
Did you ever have one of those mornings where, regardless of how perfectly beautiful it was outside, all you wanted to do was stay in bed and make watch porn? Whack, nap, repeat. Or would that be ooze, snooze, repeat?... [Read More]

Tracked on September 10, 2004 01:03 PM

Comments

Note to self, part I: if G ever gets into my car, wrap seats, ceiling, dashboard, steering wheel, parking brake, center console, seatbelts, windshield, windows with industrial-strength plastic.

Note to self, part II: if G offers me chocolates from Canada, run like a little girl, screaming out the door.

Note to self, part III: install video camera in car.

Posted by: PatCH at September 2, 2004 01:32 PM

The next time I"m painting walls, I'll think of you, G.

Posted by: Casey at September 2, 2004 05:51 PM

Meanwhile, forty feet away, a moose is traumatized for life when he gets spunk in his eye.

Posted by: palochi at September 2, 2004 06:02 PM

Being the nasty boy that I am I'd eat your chocolates G.

Posted by: Mouse at September 2, 2004 06:33 PM

LOL at the comments and I'm busily writing down PatCH's for myself.


There MUST be some sort of award for posts like these....

Posted by: Lee at September 2, 2004 11:23 PM

i'm just traumatized by the fact that G has a sex life and i don't!

Posted by: brian at September 3, 2004 01:09 PM

Canada sounds like way too much fun

Posted by: homer at September 7, 2004 01:44 AM

Those damn bugs will ruin good public sex every time! I was scratching for weeks!

Posted by: steven at September 20, 2004 07:36 AM