Zen and the Art of Shagging on a Public Footpath
I can't use real names so I’m gonna call her Jane, on account of the fact that she’s a lovely girl and now has a respectable life, a lovely family and really doesn’t need to be reminded of this. But if you’re reading this Beverley…….ah ha!
So I am just about to disappear off to University, to start my degree in Applied Biology. Jane and I are going to be separated for months on end, so we decide we’re going to have one last shag fest, and what better way to do it, than to do it al fresco. So we pack a picnic and a blanket in a small rucksack and head off into the hills. It’s the Chiltern hills, if you must know, just behind Wendover in Buckinghamshire. It was a steep climb up the first bit until we got to the top and we were looking for a suitable place to have our “picnic”. It was all very public. So I suggested we just take a 90 degree turn straight through the woods away from the well trodden path. We struggled through brambles and bushes until we stumbled upon this beautiful clearing. The grass was long and lush. The air was warm the sky was blue. It was perfect. We lay down the blanket in the dappled sunlight under the trees, and opened our picnic. We ate a little and drank our bottle of wine. The scene was set. I looked at her and she looked at me, we didn't need words, the clothes had to come off. I unbuttoned her blouse while she unbuttoned my shirt. Within minutes we were as God intended. We were with nature, making mad passionate love in the long grass. Then we heard voices. We ignored it. They were getting closer. We sat up and looked around us, listening carefully, where were these people? The voices got louder, closer. A Labrador bounded into our clearing from behind some bushes. It came right up to us and sniffed.
“Rex! Come on boy.” Shouted a voice. Rex bounded back the way he had come, tail wagging.
Quickly Jane wrapped the blanket round herself. I quickly pulled on my jeans, just as this family walked into our secluded glade. Mother and father both dressed in walking attire. Calf length walking trousers tucked into long socks, stout walking shoes, check shirts, bobble hats and a back pack. They each carried long alpine walking poles. Their two children followed them into the glade, they stopped dead and stared at us in our half nakedness.
“Come along children, eyes front, quick march. Don’t dawdle. There’s nothing to see.” Said the father. But of course there was.
Jane was beside herself giggling.
The children were giggling. Father was getting flustered. The mother in her alpine attire staring rigidly ahead muttering “well I never!”
Father desperate for his children not to be corrupted was blustering away, while they just stood there and stared at us. What can you do? Smile and say “Hello, nice day!”
“CHILDREN!” he shouted, “ come along NOW!” And he grabbed them by the collars and dragged them away as quickly as possible out the other side of our little garden of Eden.
By the time they were gone Jane was almost hysterical with laughter. Where the hell did they come from? This was supposed to be our secluded spot. I stood up to investigate the bushes where they had come from and gone to. Away from the sunlight there was a path. A few yards up the path I found a wooden sign with an acorn engraved on it. Public footpath. I went Back to Jane and told her we’d been shagging on a public footpath. She just laughed and said “Shall we do it again?”
It had no lasting effect on her or myself. We weren’t traumatised. Because many, many years later, after she’d got married, and got her beautiful family, we did the same thing all over again. Just for old times sake. So that’s why I’ve had to change her name. Even though she married the wrong guy I wish her no ill at all. She’s still one of my most favourite people in all the world.
So if you’re reading this Jane, thanks, it was great while it lasted.