The first time I had sex in public, I got caught by the police.
And got away with it.
I was a junior in high school. My first serious boyfriend at the time and I were both in our prime "having sex" phase of the relationship.
One night we were driving around and decided we were both in the mood for a ‘lil ‘sum ‘sum. We were sick of having to keep it quiet in the house and wanted to explore something new.
Car sex.
It wasn’t too long until we found a private park right nearby. We set the destination in maps and were off.
The park seemed like the perfect place. Dark, quiet, alone. We picked a spot that we didn’t think anyone would notice on the off chance that someone did come. And as if it wasn’t both of our first-time having sex outside of one of our bedrooms, we got right to work.
We hopped to the back seat and wasted no time getting undressed. And if you know, you know that once you’re undressed in the back seat of a car, there is no finding your clothes easily after that. I didn’t think that this would be a problem, but why wouldn’t something go wrong?
We set the music, set the lighting, and got busy.
The experience as a whole was completely different than I had expected. I was prepared for smooth movements, being super close to each other, and lots of eye contact.
Instead, I was met with too many head bumps to count, our bodies being too big to fit in the back seat together and being too close to one another to look comfortably into one another’s eyes.
Having car sex is an art. And if you are able to do it in a sedan, you’re Picasso.
At one point, I was in the perfect position to be looking out of the back window. We had been doing the deed for a while before I noticed car headlights coming towards us. “Babe, I think there is somebody else here” I said.
“Really? Eh, they’re probably here to do the same as us.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
And so, we continued.
I thought it was odd that the car had parked so close to us, especially if they were here to do their thing too. But hey, small park, right?
It wasn’t until somebody got out of the car that I realized this was not another couple here to rock the boat. But instead, there was indeed a police officer.
I had never moved so fast in my life.
I grabbed any clothes that I could. It didn’t even matter if they were mine. My partner had managed to compose himself by the time the officer walked over, but me?
Shirt – inside out. Pants – inside out and backwards. Bra and panties – who are they? Hair – Jennifer Aniston, Emmy Red Carpet, 1999 (love you, queen). Skin – get a bucket, and a mop. Windows – fogged.
I knew she knew what we were doing when she knocked on the back window instead of the front. And from the moment I rolled down the window, it was clear.
“How’s your night going?” she asked.
“Pretty well,” my ex answered way too fast.
“Looks like it. Do you guys think there is any other place you could be doing this?”
“Probably,” I said.
“Good idea.”
And she walked away.
And that was it.
In my head I had a million thoughts. Damn, that was close. Where tf is my underwear. I am sweating profusely. How the hell do you defog windows?
She left before we had even begun to put our clothes back on the right way.
I turn to my partner in relief that our first sex experience outside of the house did not result in us being arrested.
And what else does my ex decide to say but “So, like, do you wanna keep going?”
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