Hay Baby, Let's Shag...

Again, a tough task.

There are so many examples of embarrassing sexual experiences I could choose from.

Like my father walking in to my room (without knocking, I was 16!) while Tippler's lips were clamped to a young lady's tit, the crucial-moment cramps beyond number (causing 'premature evacuation' - it's hard to stay on board when your foot seizes up) plus the inevitable 'sorry love, had a few too many...' - times, well, a lot.

The first occasion I had my hand down a girl's knickers was quite embarrassing too. This because we were both 13 and she knew what was going on and I didn't. The memory lingers, like the smell of my fingers, because to add to the weirdness it happened on a hot Sunday afternoon behind a particularly pungent Fleetwood fish market. And oddly, since then, after any knicker-fumble I always get a strong whiff of...well, best leave it at that.

Anyway, despite many a cringeworthy moment, it's the Curious Incident of the Fag in the Nightime that sneaks it, I think.

Susan and I were at a party. We were both 19, pissed and had just finished a monumental shag at the farm of a mate's house in rural Yorkshire. We were beside the barn, near some hay.

We were still stark bollocko.

Anyway, after chatting for a while, I crawled a couple of yards to our discarded clothes, got out a cig and lit it. When I returned and lay back down, S decided that enough was not quite enough and started using her (suspisciously gifted) lips to persuade me into partaking of round two.

After a short while (well, I was young then) there was a definite response, so she doubled her not inconsiderable efforts and went off at full lip-smacking tilt.

At the crucial point, being somewhat distracted, I forgot about the fag I was holding and, as often happens, the red-hot, glowing end fell off.

No, not mine - the cigarette's...

It fell into her hair and onto her naked back. She was up like a shot, screaming and nearly giving me a Lorena Bobbit special in the process - but not before I'd shot my bolt all over her magnificent wobblers.

I staggered up, weak-kneed, and brushed the hot ash quickly off her. Then I tried to calm her down. But she was effing and blinding from the pain, of course.

Then a voice shouted from deep in the night: "Everything alright?" "Fine," I replied, although it quite clearly wasn't. Susan was almost in tears and had what looked like turning into a very nasty blister on her back. She was also still naked, tits everywhere, covered in rapidly cooling dobberjuice, burnt and very obviously not seeing the funny side.

Then the fucking haystack started to burn...

By the time I realised what was happening, people were flooding out of the party to find out what the hell was going on. What with noises off, no clothes  - I couldn't decide whether to grab my jeans or Susan's jeans and her top, so was being utterly ineffective - me being pissed, and the haystack getting hotter by the minute, it was all a bit chaotic.

I finally dragged Susan towards the clothes but not before twenty-or-so college mates came hurtling down the side of the barn and stopped dead in astonishment.

What they saw was this: a raging fire, which beautifully lit a stark naked and very skinny Tippler who was not so much boasting as attempting to hide a suddenly limp dick. They also saw a totally nude, heavily breasted and wailing Susan - modelling quite clearly recently administered cum on her tits - with a blonde pubic thatch that looked in danger of going up in flames itself if we didn't move sharpish.

We dressed amid much laughter, as you can imagine.

But it all ended well.

Beacuse Susan, her knockers having become local celebrities within two days, went on to marry a fireman.

Me? I was so embarrassed I quit college and moved to London...

Comments

[penfold]

It doesn't get better than that. Nicely done sir...

[K Papersurfer]

OK Penfold, your turn - Mummy's waiting.....

[penfold]

I'm still a virgin mummy. What's that over there...?!?
*points and scarpers*

[K Papersurfer]

And I'm one day old.