When I was a teenager, before I had access to real privacy, my girlfriend and I would sometimes, you know, romance each other inside a car.
This was a far from ideal situation, because I’m six feet tall and owned a Chevy Nova. A few times I got so carried away I almost knocked the steering wheel into the backseat, or donkey-kicked a window out of its housing.
But it was better than nothing, especially at the age of eighteen… Hell, at that point in my “career” I would’ve tried to do it inside a Coleman cooler.
And since we were driven to such drastic measures, there were a few… complications.
One time we were parked way out in the country, somewhere near Camp Virgil Tate, and three hillbillies walked up to the car. I sometimes get irritated when West Virginians are portrayed as shit-kicking hayseeds, but that’s exactly what these guys were. It was like something off HBO.
They were wearing overalls and possibly straw hats, and I didn’t see any banjos, but there’s always a little flat-pickin’ going on when I remember the ordeal. All three had pissed-off expressions on their scruffy faces, and two were carrying shotguns. Shotguns! The floor of my ass nearly fell out.
Thankfully, my girlfriend and I weren’t to the main event yet, but things were certainly moving in that direction. If those three had walked-up on such a scene, who knows what might’ve happened? I have a feeling they would’ve wanted to join in.
Anyway, they told us we were trespassing near their gas wells. Wha’? I apologized, and told them we had no idea there were gas wells around there — which was the honest truth. We’d just move along, I suggested hopefully.
And you know how there’s usually a point where the tension is released? When it becomes obvious there was nothing malicious intended, and everyone exhales and relaxes a bit? Well, that never happened in this situation. Those guys just continued staring at us, with their beady ferret eyes, and it felt like violence was a distinct possibility.
I backed my car out of the little area where we had parked, and got the hell out of there. When it felt like we were beyond the reach of a shotgun blast, we both started howling in protest: “Hoooooo-ly shit!….”
Then I floated the idea of parking somewhere else, and she looked at me like I must surely be out of my mind. Hey, I had an obligation to at least put it out there.
Another time we were alongside a different country road, with the windows rolled down on a hot summer night. As I type this I realize it was a slasher film waiting to happen, but I wasn’t thinking those kinds of thoughts at the time.
As things progressed, my girlfriend suddenly let loose with a piercing scream. Damn, I thought, I must be getting better! But it wasn’t me, of course, it was the horse head inside my Nova.
The thing had apparently wandered over to us from an adjacent field, and was checking things out. Its head was almost entirely inside our car, and it was doing all sorts of weird things with its lips.
“WHAT THE HELL?!” I hollered, and nearly exploded my skull trying to get away from it. The sudden movement startled the interloper, and he retracted himself from our business, before ambling away without a care in the world. Sweet sainted mother of John F. Kerry!
The last story is the worst; I still get a full-body shiver when I think about it.
The two of us were parked on a dirt road in Dunbar, up behind a medical office. The road, as far I knew, was never used. It was overgrown by brush, and led to a radio tower or something. I’m still unclear on it.
Anyway, we had a (false) sense of security up there, and would sometimes take advantage of it. My friends and I occasionally drank beer on that little road, and during winter, when the leaves were off the trees, we could see most of the town from the high perch.
But on this evening it was only the two of us, me and my girlfriend, and we eventually ended up in the backseat. Everything was going as I’d hoped, when someone turned on a flashlight outside the car. And shined it through the window on us!
What in the pearl-handled shit?!
We were fully-engaged, if you know what I mean — “running up that hill,” as Kate Bush might put it. For a few seconds I didn’t know what was going on, it all seemed completely impossible. Whoever this person was (the Dunbar Mangler??), he was undoubtedly being treated to an interesting view.
We attempted to cover-up as best we could, and the person tapped on the window. Gulp. I tried to focus my eyes on the guy, and realized it was cops. In the plural sense!
My heart was hammering in my chest, and my girlfriend’s face was now devoid of color. It was simply too much to process.
I opened the door a little, and my underwear fell onto one of the cops’ shoes. He started asking a bunch of questions, while passing me my Fruit of the Looms, and finally wanted to see my driver’s license. “OK, but you’ll have to help me find my pants,” I said.
There was much snickering amongst the non-speaking cops, but the main one was all business. While checking my ID he said, “Jeff Kay? Hey, are you John Kay’s boy?”
Uh oh. Those were never the words I wanted to hear. My Dad was the fire chief in our little town, and this horrible story (ALL horrible stories) would be funneled to him within minutes. He knew every one of those cops, they were all co-workers. Oh man.
This new information really caused the snickerers to ramp up their snickering, and now the main guy was also joining in.
They let us go, but warned us to never park there again. The medical center had recently been broken-into, they told us, and was being watched. Simply fantastic.
Before they left, now barely able to contain full-on laughter, the main guy said, “Don’t worry, we won’t tell your Dad about this.” And I didn’t believe him, not one tiny bit.
Completely mortified, my girlfriend and I returned to her house. I don’t think either of us said a word while we drove, and sat like an oil painting on her couch. Finally, we looked at each other and started laughing. And couldn’t stop, for a good long time.
Sweet Maria! My Dad never said a word, but it would be incredibly naive to believe he didn’t hear about it. I mean, seriously.
And those are my three stories on the subject. Now it’s your turn. Have you ever been caught, um, doing it? Or, if you prefer, have you ever walked in others? Tell us about it in the comments — without getting overly graphic, if you don’t mind.
And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.
I’ve been caught a few times. When I was quite young I got caught playing doctor with the neighbor girls numerous times. My mom caught us naked in my bed. Behind a couch. In the garage. In a dog house. In the bathroom. In a camper shell.
When I was a teenager I got caught by this girl’s mother. She walked into her daughter’s bedroom at just the worst possible moment. I was there in all of my glory soiling her daughter with my dirty, dirty seed. Unfortunately no cool porno style action ensued with her mother just some screaming and yelling and threats of a legal nature.
I think one of the most embarrassing was when this girl’s mom and dad came home and I had to quickly get dressed and make everything appear innocent. I thought I had pulled off the perfect crime until her old man went to use the toilet. The condom had evidently caused a clog and shitty water went running over the toilet with a small latex package of my leavings floating on top for all the world to see. I heard this “aww dammit dammit dammit!” (plunge plunge plunge) “what the..goddamn hell! Dana!”
That was awkward.
Jason, they were the old fashioned roller shades.
caught 1 time only, her parents finally left to go shopping and she had been telling me how i was going to get the best “bj” ever and brings out the ready whip, well about half a can of whipped cream later we hear a car and i head[no pun intended] to the bathroom but i nearly fall on my face as my pants are down around my ankles,to late to make the other room to clean up and dress, i just pulled my pants up and sat down at the kitchen table.it was her parents back and they just stayed around about an hour[i think they knew we where up to no good]so they finally leave again and by this time the ready whip has turn to glue and i had to go home and get in the shower to remove my shorts never again
Ha ha – just this morning, I passed my mother on her way to work while I was on the drive of shame back home. I don’t think she saw me, because I haven’t gotten a phone call yet.
My almost-first time was in the living room of the guy’s friend’s mom’s house (yeah, think about that for a second….). We were just about to um, get started, when the mom walks downstairs, says hello to the guy I am with, and walks into the kitchen to get some water. He said hello back, like nothing was wrong. That was enough for me — I decided to keep myself pure for another few months.
Get ready for another traffic spike Jeff, Boing Boing re-published your ads vs reality link…
In high school I dated this very hot exotic Indian girl – she was an experimentalist, and had a fetish about sex in public places. This simultaneously excited and annoyed me, although I have to admit I saw lot of her in the bright sunshine and my concrete memories of those views would come in “handy” on lonelier evenings down the road.
I remember two times we were caught. Once we were interrupted by a group of hikers on a mountainside in a park. It didn’t seem to bother her – she was on top, but quickly covered up and started laughing. I immediately lost all capability, natch.
The worst, however, happened when her mother was visiting from the family farm in Kenya. She walked in on us in the living room of her sister’s apartment. I had not met the mother yet. Some advice, boys and girls: It is tough to introduce the boyfriend to Mom when you are both shirtless and the woman’s lacy purple bra is tied around the guy’s neck and won’t come loose. Live and learn.
BTW, the mom shook my hand with her topless daughter standing behind me and the bra still stuck on my neck. The mom never spoke word to me, ever, and my girl got sent home to the family farm for a year’s detention. Indian parents can bring the hammer down when they want.
OK Qweezy, I’ll bite.
Damn dirt roads. I took Qweezy’s girlfriends sister out on a date. It was a rainy and snowy night, the dirt road was rutted and the car slipped out of the ruts and onto the side of the road in about a foot and a half of mud.
Luckily my buddies, who followed us all night long,(to the movies, etc.) weren’t far behind and laughed their asses off and drove us the last mile to her house.
Qweezy was their with the other sister and everyone had a good laugh at my expense. The next morning someone pulled my dad’s car out of the mud. It was the legend of the “Mudbug.”
The worse for me was when my best friend Norman walked in and caught me with his mom and younger sister Beth who had just turned 18.
Can I just say how much I love this topic…??
Ok, not naming any names…one night I was hanging out at a bar I frequent, where I had a very long ongoing flirtation with one of the bouncers. He got drunk and suggested I meet him in the back room. After a little while, the bartender came looking for him and walked in on us in a very compromising position (although thankfully with most of our clothes on). With another one of the bouncers. I was absolutely mortified, as I was mostly sober, but I managed to hang out at the bar for the rest of the night while I waited for the guy to get off work so we could finish what we started. Still have a hard time making eye contact with that bartender…
Wow! I love this topic, though dredging up the memories makes me shudder. I’ve been caught more than a few times, most of which are fortunately innocuous. A few of the most memorable….
I lived in an apartment that backed up to a courtyard. Since I lived on the ground floor, one wall of the living room was entirely glass and led out onto a terrace. A co-worker with whom I shared an office also lived in the area with his balcony overlooking the same courtyard, no more than 50 feet away. Very late one night, or rather very early one morning before normal individuals would be awake on a weekend, some random guy and I decided it would be a good idea to consummate our brief relationship on the sofa in front of the aforementioned wall of glass. I mean, it was 4am, for heaven’s sake. Everything went well until Monday morning when my co-worker/office mate complimented me on my new sofa. I thought nothing of it until I noticed he had a grin on his face and a raised eyebrow.
Another incident… same apartment, different guy. Woke up in the morning and had to kick the guy our so I could get to work. As we are searching the bedroom for his clothes, I find a pair of boxers and toss them at him. He catches them, quickly drops them, and calmly says, “Uh, those aren’t mine.” Not wanting to come across as a whore and without thinking, I quickly said that they must be my brother’s since he had recently visited. Just as the words passed my lips, I clued into how that might sound. Too late. Humiliation complete.
That apartment saw a lot of action back in the day, including another incident with an actual boyfriend who had a penchant for experimenting with drugs. Alcohol was my drug of choice but Boyfriend convinced me to try a little cocaine one night – my one and only time. I woke up the next morning with no recollection of the night before and had to hear Boyfriend telling me what a good time he had with me the night before and how I must have been REALLY enjoying myself because the elderly lady upstairs came down in the middle of the night to ask me to quiet down. She wasn’t clued into what the exact type of noise we were making until Boyfriend answered the door in his birthday suit and in all his “glory”. It took months before I could look my neighbor in the eye again.
Older and wiser now.
Caught doing the backseat fun ride on two different occasions by the local police. The worst was at my future wifes house, her parents always went up to bed and stayed there, so we would take advantage downstairs. Until one night while going at it with my ass in the air I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. There was absolutely nothing to cover up with and no place to hide. I just froze in place (luckily I was facing away from the stairs – no eye contact) waiting for something to happen, maybe a frying pan to the back of the head. After a very long moment I heard footsteps going back up the stairs. Nothing was ever said to me or her, which was a mighty satisfactory conclusion.
Once this woman and I hooked up after a night of partying and she took me to a baseball field of a nearby college, where I got smoked in center field. There were others in the area and while laying there with my eyes closed I heard someone walk by. And I didn’t care. It was that good.
In West Virginia, a hick getting uptight about “trespassin’ near mah gas well” usually means marijuana fields nearby. Appalachians make money on the side by growing cannabis, since, as you have probably seen first-hand, they are dirt-poor. Every so often DEA raids them, so they are always on the lookout for undercover agents.
Once with my now husband, we went parking in a field in my parents car and since it was hot as blazes outside, we left the car running with the AC going full blast. We high-tailed it right out of there when we realized the catalytic convertor had caught the field on fire! My husband and I like to frequent a park and steam up the windows. We park in an area where others can see our vehicle, but not what is going on inside. Sometimes, the park is crowded and you can’t find a secluded enough place. So, one day, we leave the vehicle and head for a walking trail to get frisky out in the open. We are going at it hard and heavy with me bent over a wooden railing when I hear footsteps RUNNING in our direction. I told my hubby someone was coming but he didn’t realize they were running and just kept at it since he was close to finishing the deed. The only thing that broke us up was when they litterally came running up on us and just ran past us laughing their asses off. I wanted to die in humiliation. To make matters worse, when we drove out of the park, the teenagers were walking through the park and my husband honks at them, smiles and gives them the pump gesture with his arms to boast his masculinity. I just slunk down in my seat….
I’ve never been caught in the act. But while visiting my boyfriend’s mom she walked in on us after the fact while we were walking around naked. And she just kept talking and didn’t leave like it was the most normal thing in the world. How awkward! He finally said,” Uh, mom….we’re naked!” And she got the hint.
And someone mentioned walking in on their parents. Well, as mine tell the story, when I was about 2 years old I walked in on them and yelled to my dad, “Get off my mom!”
Your Dad was lead singer of Steppenwolf? Cool!!!