not quite public but close
i was up early one morning banging the sass out of my then gf on the couch in the lounge. the doorbell went, and thinking it was the postman with my long awaited bike parts, i leapt up, coverd myself with the one thing to hand- HER dressing gown (i'm a big lad, she was a small girl) and answered the door.
there, on the doorstep, eager smiles fading to horror, were two very young looking jehovah's witnesses.
i was obviously red-faced and sweating, panting like a dog on a hot day, wearing a VERY revealing small pink dressing gown with some kind of floral motif. one of them started to mumble somethign about redemption and so on, and then fell silent, his horrified gaze heading downwards... i followed his eyes to find out the due to a wardrobe malfunction, little peteloaf was also staring belligerently at them, red-faced and twitching.
i uttered the immortal line 'you're not the postman!' and slammed the door on them.

poor bastards
no-one needs to see a 6'3" sweaty behemoth in a tiny dressing gown with a raging hardon, demanding to know why you're not the postman at that time of day, not even jovies.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Wed 29 Apr 2009, 21:37, 1 reply)

"YOU'RE NOT THE POSTMAN!"
Fantastic!
*clicks*
( Cawl, Thu 30 Apr 2009, 9:40, closed)