Port-a-John Porn — The Main Event!

The first part of this can be be read here.
I’ll tell you what, I ain’t never gonna be a Zen Buddhist. My patience level? Sweet fuck all. So, this one’s for all those out there who are just like me: Greedy, impatient, and far too curious. I said I’d post it tomorrow, but why wait, right? I’m the she-wants-it-when-she-want-it-how-she-wants-it type, really, so it’s somewhat hypocritical to deny you.
Besides, I received a few very ego-strokey emails today and yesterday that leave me wanting to appease others. Impatient, AND a big ol’ softie. Gotta love a girl like me. 🙂 So, without ado, part two.

UBCThunderbirdStadium

So, this photo here is the stadium where all this transpired, at the University of BC campus (home of Canada’s only totally nude beach, too, so, you know, gotta love the higher-education types). Along the right side of the stadium seating (where no one is ever seated in the…
Urm, so, this is interesting. My neighbour (the one with the Canada flag in his window, GayBoy) is presently fucking his girlfriend with the blinds open, on the sofa. Hmm, fitting timing. HeLLo, NEIGHBOURS! They’re in boxers and stuff, so I don’t see much skin, but I know those moves. They’re opting for tha fast-n-furious brand of fucking, it would seem. That, or a CD’s skipping and they’re keeping pace.
…seats — since vomit’s easier to hose down on grass than clean up off the bleachers, ha) is where we found ourselves, up near the top, in those bushes, sitting on one of the bases of the pillars you can see there. A bird’s eye view on it all. The johns were lined up on the stadium floor directly in front of us, with the backs of them facing us, with about 18″ between each john, just wide enough to squeeze through.
(They just left the living room. Fuckers (literally) and I was enjoying that! I should keep my blinds up more often.)

So, the story continues–
____________
There was something different about the couple. Something about them stood out as they wovetogether, hand in hand, through the madding throng of people below us. I spotted them and began to watch with interest. There was a physicality in how they moved and something about it aroused me.
They had a cadence to their steps, an intimacy with each other in the casual, matter-of-fact way they held hands and moved singularly through that crowd. They were zeroing in on the hand-sanitizing basin by the long wall of port-a-johns, and I could tell something was up. I grinned, nudged GayBoy, and said, “He’s gonna get himself laid.”
GayBoy started watching them. If there’s one thing my friends know about me, it’s that I’m strangely good at picking things up about total strangers.
Sure enough, it took less than a minute or two for the couple to casually wander behind this wall of johns. Now, this rear wall, you could see behind it where we were, in the stands and beyond, but it wasn’t visible from anywhere else in the stadium.
They stopped about four johns into the line, and stood behind the unit, still visible to us. She leaned against the wall, he leaned into her. His hands splayed against the john’s wall, on either side of her head. They began making out, but his hand slipped down between them, and seemed to prep things for the soon-to-begin telltale thrusting that started as Econoline Crush, a local metal/rock band with melodic yet driving hooks, took to the stage. He jacked her up a bit against that wall, and there was no mistaking, even at our distance, that this wasn’t innocent dry-humping.
The guy’s thrusting got more intense as the music heated up, and the sex was as hot as the day’d become. Oh, if I only had a handicam. I was getting hot just watching, but GayBoy was just bothered since it was too hetero for him.
While the sex was interesting, what unfolded around them was absolutely entertaining.
This couple was oblivious to what was happening around them–the sex was clearly everything at the moment. Maybe they just didn’t care. But the sex pretty fascinating for others, too, as a small crowd was gathering.
At these outdoor gigs at Thunderbird Stadium, guys would always squeeze between the johns and emerge at the back, where they’d relieve themselves au naturel in orderf to avoid the interminable lines for the port-a-johns. The ones who were doing so now, most didn’t even notice the against-the-wall sex going on nearby. Some, though, did.
One particular guy emerged between two johns, eagerly did his bladder relieving business, zipped up, turned, and then noticed the couple. He started watching them for about two, perhaps three minutes.
This had been going on ten minutes now, so the sex was fully unbridled at this point–hard, rhythmic thrusting, and absolutely zero inhibitions.
So dude’s watching the show, grinning like a school kid on a professional day, when he suddenly about-faces and walks. About two minutes later, dude returns with five friends, all holding beers, smoking cigarettes, as they lean on the bleacher stands’ base wall, staring in fascination at the sexual escapades continuing to unfold, their heads banging to the beat of the music and so too, with the rhythmic thrusting.
It’s then that the security guards approach, and the sex has been ongoing for more than 20 minutes. (But for those of us (aka: us) who’d been noshing magic mushrooms, swilling vodka, then beer, and smoking excessive marijuana, it’d seemed like an hour. And so pretty.) The guards tap the couple on the shoulders, and the couple stops. The guy zips up. A conversation ensues, and it’s clear the guards are more amused and file this one under “too bad, but I gotta do my job,” since who can begrudge a guy whose girlfriend’s willing to go the distance in bright daylight with a crowd of 15,000 around?
Everyone breaks up amiably. The couple wander again to the hand-sanitizing bath, and you can tell by the tilt in the guy’s head that he’s watching as the guards wind their way back through the crowd, looking for real trouble to deal with.
As the “Security” shirts fade into the countless bodies buzzing on the stadium floor, the guy takes the girl’s hand and he leads her back to the row of toilets.
Within 90 seconds, they’re back to having full-on sex.
The guys with the beers and the cigarettes? They never really left. They came back and caught the rest of the show.
Another twenty minutes of top-notch, if unsanitary, sex continued to unfold there until the unseasonably hot April setting sun. The couple finally climaxed during the last song in the band’s set, and then diasppeared back into the crowd.
The moral of the story? You may think you’ve got the best seat in the house when you’re in front of the stage. Sometimes, though, sitting in the nosebleeds gives you a view of a show you never thought you’d catch.

12 thoughts on “Port-a-John Porn — The Main Event!

  1. wunelle

    I did have you credited as a PH. Sorry. All better now.

    I wonder at a fella who can keep things going for two 20 minute sessions, to say nothing of the condition of the woman’s vagina at the end of this! I guess at 43 one looks longingly at these things from afar!

    Fun story, tho 🙂

  2. scribe called steff

    Pfft, you’re not the first, you’re not the last. It’s the bane of my existence, but as far as banes go, it could be worse. 🙂

    Two 20 minute sessions leaves you in admiration? Heh. Poor wifey. (/duck)

    One word for ya: Kegels! Or yoga. But yes, young and on ecstasy, as I surmised they might’ve been, can manage well. Vancouver’s not exactly known for dismissing drug use, you know. A little pharmacopia goes a long way… look at the Viagra frenzy still in its throes.

    Two 20-minute sessions STANDING, yes, there’s a feat for him. It really was well done.

  3. broad abraod

    hmm… I love a tease with no patience! 🙂 Your piece reminded me of a fun(ny) experience years ago. My ex-bf and I were on our way home after a night of drinks and a great discussion: sex in the public… turned out I was the only one out of 9 that hadn’t yet. Naaah, I couldn’t imagine doing it and risk being caught or seen…
    But bf had the right moves, kissed the right areas and before I knew what/WHERE IT was happening my bare butt was against the car door: residential area in the middle of winter! His long trenchcoat did cover my insecurity. I wanted a warm and large bed but the craving twinkle in bf’s eyes told me we weren’t going there. So, he turned on the lights, the heater and the radio in his car and I forgot the world existed around me. Comfortable space was limited and all of a sudden I tensed because I had the feeling I was part of a live CNN coverage: “Breaking news! Sex in the public!” About then, the hip and leg cramps started…
    I was a bad communicator then and all I could mumble was “wait, wait, wait” and he went SLOWER and I started to laugh. That startled my bf enough for me to “get free”.
    Once I have the giggles I can’t stop and as we were trying to leave, the car wouldn’t start – the battery was dead. Then someone knocked against the window and bf and I were surprised to see one of our sport teammate with jumper cables – he had just moved and watched the whole thing from his apartment.
    Beware future and potential partners… sex in the public still makes me giggle!

  4. scribe called steff

    Well, my friends who’ve ridden in my now-dead old Hyundai would probably cringe to read this, but I had sex in that car more than I had sex in beds in the first six years that I owned it.

    My sex life was very active from the time I was about 18-26, never going more than, say, a week without it in those years, and having a hatchback was perfect.

    We’d pull off to the side of the road in just about any place, from Porteau Cove to Stanley Park, or industrial build sites, and even ICBC’s impound yard, and we’d have sex. I always had a blanket around, and it made for good times. Sometimes in the front seat, but on dark, rainy Vancouver nights, we’d lower the hatchback and lie naked in the back the whole night long.

    I remember a spell where we’d play board games naked, toss all the bits and pieces aside, and start to play with each other.

    I never realized then, and maybe don’t even realize now, how many people don’t engage in sex in cars, but hey.

    Now I ride a scooter, so that’s out, but there’s a reason I love roadtrips, and it ain’t just the driving or the scenery.

  5. scribe called steff

    “We” means one specific lover of mine, who I was with for about seven years, but he wasn’t the only one I had in that car… just the most frequent flyer.

  6. mhorts

    Thanks Steph…er…Steff. You have satisfied my vouyeristic urges (for the time being anyway). I owe you. 🙂

    This message was brought to you by the word “vowdwgq”, which is my verification word for today.

  7. scribe called steff

    I hate, hate, hate the verifications, but it allows me to have anonymous commenting, and given the nature of some of my writing, I suspect that encourages more people to say something. Spam sucks.

    I looooove being a voyeur. One reason I like my new neighbour across the way, he’s the only person in that building who leads a visually interesting life that I enjoy peeking at. Everyone else is frickin’ boooorrrrring. 🙂

  8. mhorts

    Just to be clear, I wasn’t complaining about the verifications. The letter combination just struck me as funny. I don’t want to offend the cunning one. 😉

  9. scribe called steff

    Oh, I’m not calling you a whiner. 🙂 I’m just saying I hate them. I really, really hate having to fucking enter a verification word for every comment I leave, since it’s MY blog, and also because I’m actually very dyslexic a lot of the time and need to type them in two or three times before I get them right. Very frustrating to me.

  10. Anonymous

    Just a note about nude beaches. There is a nude beach (fully legal) in Toronto at Hanlans Point on the Toronto Islands. I’ve been and got sunburnt in all sorts of interesting places. Also encouraged my girlfriend to show off her lower asset to a guy laying just down from us. Very erotic indeed. I guess BC is not the only place in the world where people can be free and expressive. Oh Well.

  11. Pingback: Yesterday or Yesteryear? | Smut & Steff

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