Get your motor runnin’

This post was prompted by Kink of the Week May 1-16: Outdoor Sex.

My ex, a partner of many years, otherwise pretty mainstream sexually, has always had a kink for getting frisky outdoors. Among other things, it helped to keep our sex alive for decades, more than can be said about most long-term couples. We had done it in all kinds of places, some are more appropriate than others, and got caught with our pants down, literally, a time or two. Or three. Who’s counting. Which makes for a good story later, but might not be so much fun in the moment, with adrenaline rushing during the mad scramble to escape or salvage the situation.

The summer of our honeymoon we got arrested by the Russian border patrol for wandering into a restricted area along the beach, after carelessly ignoring several posted warning signs. Fortunately, after transporting us to the base in the back of a military vehicle under guard, they let us go with a warning. And with a few winks and chuckles. The sex-starved 18 year-old soldiers probably didn’t mind this break in the monotony of the service, and may have appreciated what they got to see in the moments just before we got apprehended.

Decades later, as we were going at it in the back of a family sedan in an industrial area on a Sunday night, when everything was quiet, a piercing flashlight with a police officer attached to the other end of it was a rude interruption. The most embarrassing part was the disbelief on the officer’s face when he realized from our documents and from a bit of questioning that we were, in fact, married, and for a long time, and still behaving like two teens getting it on for the first time on a prom night.

Roofs of tall buildings, when we could find an open door or a way to sneak in are highly recommended. Good views, warm sun, fresh air, all without leaving the city. And an occasional tenant or manager wandering in. Ehm.

Beaches, regular and clothing-optional. Airport parking lots. Public and private pools. Note to self: water temperature makes a lot of difference in the success of the enterprise. Hot springs. Mmm, hot springs. Now-extinct porn movie theaters with seedy horny onlookers getting a double feature, so to speak, in 3D and at no extra charge. We were lucky we never ended up in the splash range. Parks. Forests. A bow deck of a cruise ship, in plain view of the bridge crew above. Trains, in and out of a private cabin, sometimes in the observation car. Under the stars while watching the northern lights.

Oh, and while driving. Don’t do it kids. It’s a thrill, to be sure, but not worth the risk. Still, there was this one time… We got a babysitter and got to escape for a day, driving to the beach and anticipating a few carefree relaxing hours. Chill music from an old cassette player, fresh sea-smelling breeze through half-lowered windows, sights of the sea on one side of the road and of a forest on the other, it all conspired to get us in the mood. The road was windy and single-lane in each direction, so no cars to the sides and no passing lanes for many miles, it felt like there was no one else around. I was driving, she was smiling, and among the idle chit-chat my right hand started to wander around her body, teasing and playing. Driving with one hand on a twisty road, having to focus on two activities at once, one mundane but critical, another exciting and distracting, I am surprised to this day we did not end up in an accident.

She got into it, too. Soon her breasts were out, her eyes closed, her undies on the floor, and eventually her legs on the dash, spread wide. A driver of an occasional oncoming truck may have gotten more of a view than they bargained for. Now ,I must remark that she was even then an extremely cautious person, calculating and evaluating dangers constantly and opting for safe choices. That time was a clearly egregious lapse in judgment on her part, and I wasn’t about to lose the opportunity. I had to muster all my skills to keep the car steady with my left hand, gently handling the pedals to avoid startling her, all the while working the sensitive parts of her body with my right hand. One of my more remarkable achievements in multitasking, if I say so myself. Well, one downside was that I had no ability to adjust the content of my own pants for a more comfortable ride. But hey, life is all about sacrifices and trade-offs, right? I could live with this one.

After maybe 20-30 minutes of this death-defying acrobatics (well, mental acrobatics, at least) she was moaning loudly, lost in her sensations and in the rhythm of the road. And now I had to time it. Our exit was coming up soon, so I increased the pace, still not sure if I would be able to get her to over the top just like that. It all came down to minutes. I felt her climax around my fingers, a minute later she was back to her old cautious self, surprised by what happened, but also mellow in the post-orgasmic glow. We got off the highway another minute or two later, me still steering with just the left hand, but for a different reason. There was no time for her to reciprocate in the car, and it would not have been a good idea, anyway, despite my truly legendary self-control. Because it is so much more fun to just let go, isn’t it?

Get your motor runnin’
Head out on the highway
Lookin’ for adventure
And whatever comes our way
Yeah Darlin’ go make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space


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