Tantric train trauma
Back when the ex and I were still in the at-it-like-rabbits stage, we'd been out to meet some friends for drinks in Winchester and were on the last train back to her parents' house.

We managed to bag one of those little cubicle things at the front of the carriage and, being rather tipsy, soon got to a little fumbling. Fumbles quickly turned into hardcore depravity, but we both got a little jumpy every time there was a light outside the window in case it was a station platform. We didn't want to treat everyone waiting for the train to a free show, so I suggested we move to my boudoir, or rather the toilets at the other end of the carriage (I'm a hopeless romantic after all).

Giggling like teenagers, we drunkenly negotiated our way back through the main seating area past groups of pissed-up revellers also making their way home. With a salacious word in my love's ear I pulled her inside the toilet cubicle, lifted her pert bottom up onto the little sink, pulled up her skirt and proceeded to thrust away in the inelegant fashion only a pissed Englishman can muster.

Whether it was the clattering of the train on the tracks, or her moans of pleasure I don't know (I like to think the latter), but I didn't hear the toilet door swing open behind us--in my drunken lust I'd forgotten to lock the bloody thing.

In any case I was only alerted to the situation by the sudden chorus of, "Oi Oi! Go on gorgeous!", and, "That's it mate, give it some!", quickly followed by my girlfriend screaming rather loudly in my ear. The entire carriage was getting a great view of my white, spotty arse pounding away at the best bits of my now very flustered girlfriend. I tried, heroically, to carry on (well they'd already seen everything by this point), while reaching behind me to shut the door but the missus was having none of it. With a huff she jumped off the sink, nearly snapping the poor man in two as she did so, and darted into the next carriage, her hands covering her very red face in shame.

Somewhat embarrassed, I zipped myself up and followed her for the now inevitable bollocking to a round of applause from what seemed like every man on the carriage. I restrained myself from turning and taking a little bow.

Not the worst journey ever perhaps, but it traumatised the missus enough for her to ban any kind of public rudey fun for a very long time, which in turn was traumatic for me.
( pixel_fucker is going to need a bigger brush, Thu 29 May 2008, 18:26, Reply)