Cop a feel
“When I was 18, my boyfriend and I snuck downstairs at the North Side rec center he was working at—yes, during business hours—and we started doing it on the kiddie gym mats. After about 20 minutes of getting busy, we heard the camp counselors and their trail of five-year-olds heading downstairs. Panicked, we hopped up and hid behind the door just seconds before the campers arrived. As we watched them start bouncing on the mats we had enjoyed mere moments before, we stealthily snuck up the stairs and out the doors.

The hanky-panky continued outside, with him nailing me against the building’s brick wall, adjacent to the empty baseball diamonds. Everything was going great until the cops busted us while he was wall-fucking me. At the time, I was using my parents’ cleaning lady’s ID as a fake ID because she looked a lot like me. When the cops asked for my license, I gave them hers and pretended that I couldn’t speak English. I started to cry and shake as my boyfriend translated my “predicament” to the cops. He told them that I was brought to the

U.S. by my Polish grandfather who had escaped the war. He let them know that if I were to be taken in, my grandpa would send me right back to Poland.

So, graciously, they carted off my boyfriend on charges of lewd conduct and left me with no more than a stern warning. They took down my information—actually the cleaning lady’s information—which didn’t worry me a bit. As she was illegally in the country, her ID was a fake. So even if they did come looking for me, neither she nor I could be found. This marked the first time I did it in public and I’ve been on a streak ever since.”

Stairway to heaven
“One afternoon my boyfriend and I went to the top of a lookout tower. We started kissing and both really wanted to go for it. We used his shirt for me to lay down on and we both took off our shorts and started jacking each other off in a 69 fashion near each other’s faces. A few minutes into it we heard a car drive up the road, the car doors shut and we were like, ‘Oh, fuck, people are coming.’ I was able to come really fast—often a curse, but that day it was a blessing—but he had to put his still-hard cock away, and get our clothes back on and act all normal before the people came up the tower, which they did when he was still a little hard. We had to wait a few minutes pretending to check out the view until his cock went down, we climbed the steps down the tower and then drove off—he finished himself off in the car.”

Auto erotica
“Back in college, my girlfriend and I were driving from St. Louis to Champaign. This bit of west central Illinois is pretty rural with many desolate spots, so about 45 minutes into the trip we just couldn’t take it any longer and pulled off next to what looked like an abandoned house and proceeded to get busy. Being young, we were pretty well practiced at car sex. The preferred position in the 1987 Nissan Sentra was for me to lie semiflat in the passenger seat while she got on top. It was hot, steamy, youthful sex and we were very into it when we suddenly heard a very loud and strange noise. Stopping immediately and looking up, we were face-to-face with a very large horse that had wandered up to check us out. Needless to say we finished, got dressed and got the hell out of there.”