the nun and I once made la la across the bed instead of the correct head and foot of the bed. Wow, was pretty kinky. She says that next time she wants us to try it completely naked.
Did a Canadian girl anally in a living room at my birthday party in Myrtle Beach while 30 to 50 people cheered us on......
In the band vehicle in the parking lot of a Country Kitchen in Grand Fork North Dakota with the doors open and people stopping by for a peak
at a stand up board while on the air at WLLL in Lynchburg Va back in 1970
blow job onstage at Slick Willies in Morganton NC while 600 people looked on...does head count?
I could go on all night...I still am a musician
However some of the strangest and most wonderful sex I've had takes place several times a week in the Bears Den with squinney......don't tell her I said so though.....she'd blush.....then kick my ass :wink:
TMI, Bear. (Somehow I just knew you'd be the winner...)
This thread just jumped the shark.
Just trying to share....I'm a Care Polar Bear...
Shoot! We already jumped the shark! Well, never mind the following:
I felt rather badly about that guy being in the front seat, but it didn't stop me. What did stop me, several years later, from consorting with women whose husbands were nearby was an incident involving Fruit of the Looms in cowboy boots, sliding patio doors, biking skills and VW Rabbit tracks across a front lawn.
To my credit, if I had any credit in those days, I didn't ask if she was married, she didn't say. We met a bar in Tulsa. There were sparks, but she didn't want to go to my place. I just followed her over to Broken Arrow and after she parked in the garage, I parked in the driveway, up near the garage door. (Bad move #1) or maybe #2, whose counting? We were uh, proceeding when suddenly she jumped up and ran down the hallway. Now, I have had that effect on others before so I didn't think anything was amiss, but when she returned a moment later yelling "Get out! Get out !! My husband's truck is in the driveway!!" I caught on.
There didn't seem to me to be enough time to dress fully, so I shoved my underwear into my cowboy boots*, grabbed my jeans and shirt and headed out the patio door, which wouldn't open using one hand, so I had to drop everything, yank the door open and then gather everything back up. My one thought as I bent over was, at that moment, I made a pretty good target. All this time, she was yelling something about going to the right and out the gate, which I did.
And I did something else that probably saved me a backside buckshot picking-out party or a beating or both, I pulled my car keys out of my jeans. That way when I got around to the driver's side of my car, it was toss clothes in, jump in, jam keys in and turn to start.
That was when two things occurred to me. 1) The front door was opening.
2) His big pickup truck was parked behind me.
Um
Volkswagon Rabbits had a tiny turning radius and that night, except for a slight bump to a potted somethingorother by the edge of the sidewalk, my little red speedster and I did a beautiful tight left turn onto the house's front lawn, which I must say was more gravel than lawn. I noticed that as he pounded on my driver's side window shouting something. I didn't stop to ask what, I thudded down the curb and headed out. In my mirror I saw his truck's headlights come on and I took the first right I saw and put the pedal to the metal.
I had no idea where I was. This was one of those sprawling neighborhoods with big curving streets and cul-de-sacs and switchbacks and I knew if I just drove I might end up right back on the same street. So I looked for a big driveway with cars already in it, saw one and pulled in beside a lovely big white van and two other cars and shut her down.
I sat there in the dark for about a half an hour and twice thought I heard that big pickup roar by, but it may have been my imagination.
When I headed out again, I was lucky, the entrance to the neighborhood loomed up in front of me after making just one turn. This is where my bicycling experience came in because I turned right onto County Line Road, a backroad that leads to nowhere unless you know where it leads to and I did. I had ridden all over that neck of the woods. I took all the backroads around to the south of Tulsa, stopping once once to pull on my jeans and slide into my boots. One of my socks was lost forever. Before heading home, I looked to the stars and swore I would never again talk to strangers.
And I never did,
except for those couple of times when it was impossible to ignore an opportunity without hurting someone's feelings.
Joe
* Yes, Eva, I wore cowboy boots. Tony Lama's, which is why I didn't want to leave them behind and my watch was in one of them.
Okay, okay, I have laughed myself silly.
Gee, I'm hoping that Dys will agree to take off his cowboy boots the next time.
I even offered to buy him some new boots.
He's thinking about it.
Once I was in a bar in the early afternoon. The bar was on a main road with a little neighborhood road out back. When I left the bar, for some inexplicable reason, I decided to take the neighborhood road down to my next destination. I had been on that particular road exactly one other time in my life.
The temperature outside was about 5 degrees below zero. As I drove through the neighborhood I was startled when suddenly a friend of mine, completely naked and bleeding, jumped out from behind a tree and started waving like crazy as he raced in front of my car.
He jumped inside and started screaming, "Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!"
I sensed this wasn't the best time to ask questions as he ducked down to hide and I noticed a guy with a rifle in his hand yelling at a woman in a driveway.
That image cleared things up instantly.
I drove to my house and let my friend explain the details.
He had been in bed with this woman and they were both lying there smoking cigarettes when the front door opened and the husband walked in and calmly took his rifle from the wall.
My friend had just enough time to dive out the window. He said he was racing through back yards, naked and desperate, when he saw my car.
Was he one lucky son of a bitch, or what?
Also, re the lost sock, really, socks are famous for walking off, sometimes even down laundry drains. They are almost like.... umbrellas. You know, don't you, that umbrellas can't be owned?
Gus, I must take you to task here. Other people are talking about situations they were in personally, thus freely speaking in this forum, a fairly brave act even in this welcoming company. I want to hear, from the UnderGus, some of UnderGus's exploits, which may well be less dramatic than UberGus's Persona's episodes. (We don't care if they are less dramatic, or are traumatic situations.)
Okay, okay, the dune buggy was on Tuna Canyon road..
might be time for the nun to shed the 'habit' me thinks....
I have tales to be told, Osso, but first... let us hear some of the more decadent episodes from the life of Osso.
I'm going to go grab a cup of coffee.
Please begin.
No, Gussy, I have already given some real commentary. Your turn.
Ohh My Joe.....your a bad man.....lol, I laughed so hard at that one....thanks!
Guess I need to dig out some more..seems like my pitiful butane tank escapade wasn't that great, unless that I tend to add that it wasn't my husband and the guy I was with had his wife at my house, who was using my bathroom, while we were outside the window?
Public Swimming area......, broad daylight, swimmers everywhere.
One night in my husbands bedroom, (boyfriend at the time)....his brother was asleep in the bed, we were on the floor. He never woke.....
At a resorts bathroom, for women only....slipped my boyfriend in.....had some fun. While my parents were playing pool next door.
In a closet...at a party. lol.....
But I think the most memorable ones were the Hay fields...just quiet, clear starry nights, a little bit of a breeze blowing, no one around for miles, low temperatures and one of those handmade quilts that your grandma made for you....and the grass so deep it felt like you were on a feather bed. UMMMMMM.......makes me smile.
Osso's
commentary was...
Quote:It was probably the dune buggy...
Sorry, Osso, but that's not gonna cut it. We're looking for more in-depth sexual analysis here. Were you standing up? Was the dune buggy hurling down the side of a mountain as you clutched the roll bar and your partner, sweating and gasping, screamed things like, "Osso! Osso! Yeah baby! Oh yeah, oh yeah!"
Or was the dune buggy on display in an automobile dealership and you and your partner lustily grappled as horrified onlookers shielded their childrens' eyes.
Or perhaps the dune buggy itself was some sort of mechanical participant in your devious sexual games.
Details, Osso, give us some details.
I'm betting that osso was driving....while the partner was screaming!!! lol
I suppose the strangest place, aside from the stealth bomber, was on public transit. A streetcar actually, and the strange part was that I was driving it at the time. I worked briefly, very briefly, for the TTC.
none of your business 