Had a couple of the awkward sister/parent/etc walking in type moments but the funniest would have be a particularly messy, gluey and explosive load that was intended for the belly and ended up like a chin strap from ear to ear. We had a laugh, a lot of tissues and a long shower were used to clean it all up, and my then gf didn't think anything more of it.
Until 2 hours into her shift at work which involved standing at a counter serving people at a busy shopping centre, when the girl working next to her said "oh, you've got some moisturizer on your neck". There was still a streak of dried spunk stuck behind her ear from about 3 hours prior.
We (myself and friends) grew up during our formative years at a mid-size town on Lake Michigan. Well, seeing as we had a large body of water, we tended to take advantage of some of the amenities it offered: mainly, little islands or islets off our pier where we could have a night of drinking, debauchery, and general lawlessness (see: Lord Of The Flies) since it was the Immoral Eighties and all.
Unlucky for me, for some reason or not (must've gotten busted "in coitus" by a parent or something) a group of about five of my friends and their girlfriends went down to the pier with copious amounts of beer looking to either go fishing or "go fishing."
Well, somehow these knuckleheads found a crappy rowboat somebody obviously left on shore (probably as a ferry to their tax write-off in the marina) and decided to head out to this little uninhabited island (let's just say the island was so small that I'm sure the Skipper crapped bigger than that on his wayward island stay) to consume beverages and commit crimes against nature.
Luckily for us, our parents were far too trusting back then (early 80's). Everybody was staying at everybody else's house (you know, this is the situation you think will fool your unsuspecting parents and somehow unravels and gets you busted) so they stayed there all night (they had brought sleeping bags--foreshadowing for later).
Somehow, they returned to the mainland on the purloined paddleboat, and some went home, some crashed in their cars. But my good friend (let's call him Mike) decided that he and his girlfriend were going to curl up in his sleeping bag on the sand.
Cut to the next thing Mike remembers. He wakes up and his girlfriend has decided to try to massage the sausage muscle, so being hormone-filled teenagers in a zipped up (and I mean zipped up over the head) sleeping bag, these two start going at it.
After a furious 15 minute session of hide the Salami, my buddy Mike unzips the sleeping bag by his head (he was having oxygen deprivation at this point) to realize that it is 10am and people are out fishing, boating, and enjoying watching a sleeping bag twitch around like an epileptic caterpillar. It didn't help that their clothing was thrown about "ground zero" and they were totally buck-nekkid in the sleeping bag with people around.
Still a crowd pleaser among the group.
Many years ago when I was sixteen, I had a girlfriend. Her house was fairly large, and her bedroom was at one end of the house and the living room and her parents bedroom was at the other. I was over there one day, and I found myself in her bedroom, enjoying having her legs clenched around my head. Around my ears, so I couldn't hear a thing. Apparently she was having a fairly good time, because there was a lot of movement and bucking.
Then the movement and bucking stopped. I didn't, though, and eventually she started enjoying herself again.
After a while, she came, and after some positional change, so did I. Then she told me: her mum had walked in on us, said "Perhaps you should use the lock on your door, Tess," then about faced and walked out. That was bad enough, but apparently her mother told her father.
If having dinner with someone who knows I have vagina face - her daughter's vagina, what's more - wasn't bad enough, the father said "Steven doesn't need anything, I hear he ate earlier."
I turned bright red, the girl looked as though she wanted to hide inside the salt shaker, and her mother laughed and replied "I guess Tess did, too," then asked me to pass the peas. Nothing more was said.
That girl didn't last long, but that's another story involving her fucking other guys while I was overseas for a few weeks. Anyway, not much happened for a while, until a few years later at a friend's 21st. After not getting any in three years, you'll jump at anything you can get. Which is exactly what I did. I'd known this girl for all of ten minutes before we started kissing, and five minutes after that she decided it would be a good idea to walk (or stagger) back to her place. I agreed, so 10:30pm saw us sneak into her house. Unfortunately, the staggering up the stairs was not too quiet. I'm fairly sure her mother detected two bodies stumbling up.
Anyway, we got very naked very quickly, and after only a few minutes of blowing me, before I had a chance to even touch her vagina, she whispered "I want you to fuck me." That's not an easy request to turn down, so I fucked her. Me fucking her involved her on her back with her legs back as far as they'd go. I was starting to get back into the rhythm (and remember why I fucking hate condoms), when there was a knock at the door. I jumped under the covers and hid, while she somehow managed to hide me with her petite frame. Her mother opened the door and started talking to her about taking the brother somewhere tomorrow, and oh, by the way, why are you back from the pa... OH!
My leg wasn't hidden. A big, hairy, man leg was sticking out from the bed.
Getting busted results in fairly instant shrinkage. So I got a hummer again, then spent about 8 hours fucking this girl in almost every way imaginable. Eight hours of making babies and blowing numerous loads means I have a sore cock, sore balls, and by the time 7am rolls around, shooting blanks.
Anyway, I left, and arrived home. My mum asked me why I didn't come home last night... OH!
I was betrayed by the bernio bros, the cougars, and this guy from back page I hired to keep me from jumping out a window at the DNC.
TOTAL WRECK - crazy-eyed hound is covered in cobwebs, has a vespiary on back, graffiti on side and savage thirst for boat fuel. Frankly, I'm in over my head. He's in room 115 at Motel 6, yours free. 555-2851
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