Food For thought Friday: Inappropriate locations

Where is the most inappropriate place that you have engaged in any kind of sexual activity?

Ahhh… well… there is inappropriate because of location and inappropriate because you were being naughty isn’t there? So, in line with the rest of the prompt, (and yes the clue is in the picture) I am going to give you by location and save naughty for later (I don't seem to have a filter…so one day I will end up telling everyone)

In the sea off Xi Beach in Kefalonia…which I know doesn't sound that inappropriate but to be more precise…

Xi Beach is a beautiful sandy shallow beach on the southernmost tip of a peninsula, gently swelling sea for 270 degrees of view, making it a rather popular.tourist destination and in all the travel guides. The weather was roasting and our little hire car didn't have air con, so we were hot and sticky and desperate to take our clothes off. I don't know know why, but we were surprised at how full the beach was, given it was very late afternoon, and desperate for some alone space. We waded out in the gentle swell of a shallow beach, until we were pretty much further out that anyone except the sporty windsurfers and kayakers, but the water still came to the bottom of our ribcages if that. Our second holiday together, not yet engaged and interestingly, the same week I discovered he didn’t want me topless in public. But he did want me. Too much for the hour or so back to our little apartment on the other side of the island. I wrapped my legs around his waist and lay back in the water. We’d never had sex against the wall because even then I was too much of a handful to be picked up, so in the water sex, with my weight supported by the gentle waves, was perfect.

There was no real way we could realistically hide what we were doing…close enough to a crowded beach (hundreds of people I think… possibly more) for it to basically be both exhibitionism and very frowned upon by the Greek authorities if they’d caught us. I think we just worked on the grounds everyone else was so busy looking at what they were doing they wouldn’t notice us. I remember being so swept away that he didn’t want to wait, that I wasn’t going to say no. At this point in our lives, I hadn’t worked out with the certainty and confidence I have now, that I am submissive to the point I don’t always make good decisions… or rather I don’t necessarily question the decisions of others that I trust even when the non-submissive bit of me squeaks out the “are you sure?” warning. The difference is now we know this as a couple, he interrogates his decision making differently, taking sole responsibility for my safety and dignity in every potentially kinky situation.

We didn't lose clothes, just pushed aside swimsuits for a hurried fuck to the rhythm of the tide and the muted sounds of the distant crowd. 

I am working on the grounds this is slightly more inappropriate to the swimming pool in Portugal the year before, when we had discovered having me floating increased the range of positions we could explore. And no… that wasn’t a private pool. And it was in the daytime… but to be fair, no-one else was actually in the water at the same time as us…

Now I just cringe at the ickyness of potential contamination… but at the time, wild with energy for each other and well before the kids came along, we just went with the flow.

When I think about it… on holiday last year we did borrow the key to the campsite jacuzzi pool once or twice and manage a quickie… but I hasten to say, not “in” the jacuzzi, but we were sharing a caravan with three kids and two au pairs, so the brick built block which housed the jacuzzi and a steam room seemed like the most secure option. Fifteen years on and it was more about privacy than exhibitionism.

Last night we christened our new spa pool. I have written about why we have one last year, but this year we needed a new one and when summer arrived for two days last week we ordered it. Bigger…I can lie down and completely not touch the sides.

I lay on top of him, supported by the water, letting my body rub and float over his. The lightest of touches. And we kissed. Just touching, barely there, breathing each other in kisses that lasted for time we couldn’t quantify. We listened to each other breathe, the soft patter of rain on the canopy overhead and the silence.

I love being in the water with him. Love the freedom from awkward limbs and (now creaking) joints and the limitations of being bigger.

I also love the late night dog walkers walking the pavement feet from where we are hidden behind a tall brick wall and some even taller dogwood. How their conversations change from murmurs to words so clear and sharp you can hear their breathing, then fade back to a murmur and silence. The safety and the exhibitionism all in one.

As I’ve been writing this I have realised that is the common theme. I don’t really want to be seen, but at the same time my inner exhibitionist wants to play. I don’t find my body sexy, so hidden in the water suits me just fine. But the sounds and the knowledge that I’m/we’re having sex…I don’t mind sharing that at all.