Hey, everybody: two things…

First: Last week, the GOP officially “denounced” me. The nation is at peace, Americans are going back to work, and the climate situation is completely under control—so, hey, why not go after the gay dude who writes that smutty sex column and gives Rick Santorum fits?

Second: Last week, a Savage Love reader denounced me for failing to devote any recent column inches to my readers’ titillating anecdotes. As I hate disappointing a reader, I invited folks to send in their dirty/sexy vacation stories. Here’s the best of the bunch.

I was 15 and on vacation in Cape Cod. Beaches never did anything for me, so I excused myself to go back to the hotel. On my way, I ran into another teenager, a girl. I struck up a conversation and was surprised to hear her answer in a British accent. Like myself, she was bored as hell. I invited her to my hotel room to get high. I make my move, which she goes along with. We’re both naked when I get an awful idea that would make any sane and sober girl run screaming for the hills. Being young and ripped, I vocalize it without considering the outcome: “What if you pretend to be Hermione Granger?” This was about the time of the fourth movie release, and I had a big crush on Emma Watson. As soon as the words left my lips, I knew that I wasn’t getting laid that day. But I got laid that day.

The Wander Years

Seven years ago, we went to a wedding. Upon arrival, my girlfriend and I found ourselves in the quaintest, daintiest, lace-doiliest B&B we’d ever seen. The wedding was a wonderful affair held in a historic building. By the time the two of us returned to the B&B, we were drunk, happy, and horny. If I had been reading Savage Love back then, I would’ve known that we were breaking all the anal sex rules: It had been a first-date activity for us, we never took it slow, and we never used lots of lube. It had always worked before. This time, however, was different. With her on all fours on the lace doily bedspread, I pulled back and noticed what could not be described as santorum (no lube, just fecal matter). We immediately headed for the shower with her exclaiming loudly how much she “hates when there’s shit!” We got clean. The sheets were a different story. I can’t remember whether we left them there or stole them, but I do remember the chilly farewell we received from the lady who ran the place. It occurred to me then just how nonsoundproof the walls of a 150-year-old clapboard house probably are.

That Comes From There?

I was 19. He was older and married. We were both in Utah for a folk-dancing event. He and his wife were nonmonogamous—in the open way, not in the (sometimes creepy) Mormon way. His wife wasn’t interested in playing with me, so he and I fucked in the back of his truck while she folk-danced at the folk festival I’d traveled to frickin’ Utah to attend. The next day, he drove me the hour back to their house in Salt Lake City so we could fuck some more.

The next time we ran into each other was at yet another folk festival. We found an unused second-floor room in one of the buildings and used a piano to barricade the door. We left the window open for ventilation, and so that our vocalizations could rain down on the heads of the innocent Seattleites going about their folk festival business.

Frickin’ Utah

I’m a bi male, 25, and into bondage. Four years ago, I responded to the personal ad of a reasonably attractive French guy with an unreasonably amazing dungeon. I sent pictures and said I’d love to spend a weekend in his dungeon if I ever made it over. He offered to pay for a plane ticket if I would spend a week in his dungeon. After doing Christmas and NYE with the family, I headed to Paris for the last week of my winter break. Within 48 hours, I was begging him to let me out. He agreed to let me go if I still wanted out in two hours. But the bondage was “only real now” that I wanted out, he said in his sexy French accent, and he told me—while slowly stroking my dick—that I was beautiful and brave and strong and that I could get through the week. Which is what I did. On my last night in Paris, he took me to an expensive restaurant, ordered a bottle of champagne, and toasted my bravery and strength.

Best Week Ever

About 10 years ago, when I was 15, my very lenient parents took me and two of my girlfriends to one of those all-inclusive resorts in Mexico. We partied and drank with some nice Mexican boys we met on the beach. On our final night, we all downed a bunch of flaming shots. Long story short: I ended up falling through a second-story window and cutting my head pretty badly, one of my girlfriends and I got into a drunken fistfight (I still have no idea about what), and then I lost my virginity on the beach to one of those nice Mexican boys. I woke up the next morning with a hangover, drunken shits, and a pussy full of sand. The plane ride back was miserable… but, oh, what a memory.

Good Times

In the Provincetown dunes, my BF and I met another couple with the same first names as ours. They invited us to their campsite later that night. That’s when I learned four is the tangle threshold—four bodies can literally get so tangled you have to stop to undo yourselves. They had a little propane lamp, and as we were leaving, we could see their shadows from outside the tent—meaning we had just done a four-way shadow show for everyone in the campsite.

Rob #2

I have just returned from vacation—or “holiday,” as we say in the UK—so here goes: My boyfriend and I both love hiking, so off we went to the Lake District, one of the prettiest walking regions in the country. The highest mountain in England, Scafell Pike, is there, so of course we had to climb it, just like pretty much every other tourist. What most of them don’t do is attempt the two-hour ridge traverse to reach the top of the second highest mountain in England, Scafell. We did. Whereas Scafell Pike had been so crowded there was no space for us to sit and have lunch, Scafell was deserted. I’ve always had a kink for outdoor sex, and it seems he has a fetish for mountain scenery, because we had possibly the best sex we’ve ever had on top of that mountain, enjoying spectacular views of the gorgeous English countryside. There is nothing like being fucked while staring out at the landscape that inspired the poetry of Wordsworth and Coleridge!

Climber Loves Impulsive Fell Fucking

Thanks for sharing, vacationers. Your regularly scheduled sex advice returns next week—now go Google “santorum,” everybody.

Find the Savage Lovecast (my weekly podcast) every Tuesday at thestranger.com/savage.

mail@savagelove.net

70 replies on “Savage Love”

  6. Those were incredibly awesome. My favorites: Hermione Granger sex and the dungeon in Paris. Although, yikes, that one seemed a bit risky.

  8. The fact that so many of these are about 15 year olds squigs me out. I understand they aren’t 15 now… but still. Blech.

  10. In a hotel in Roseburg, Oregon, I was kept up from about 3 to 6 AM with vocal, squeaky, animal sex. What amazed me so much was the sheer stamina and the fact that it was just your standard Holiday Inn: pretty thick walls.

    And having folk danced an hour south of Salt Lake, I have to say that I never knew our scene was so kinky! Open relationships are more common than you might think around here . . . I experienced that (to my great delight) this past month. In fact, the pure horniness of the repressed Utah population makes Seattle look like one of the more dull parts of Hawthornian New England.

  12. I met a really cool woman while vacationing in the philippines, she was doing the same. I know this is kind of vanilla, but she told me that she was a virgin, ie did everything but fuck, and would I be ok with just oral? Oh my fucking god yes! Well, I kind of skeeged her out or something and she wouldn’t stay with me that night, but the next, we did hook up, and it was pure holiday erotic heaven. We kind of stayed connected after the trip, she did give it up to me when we met up again, and we’ve been together ever since.

  18. Hey CLIFF, remember that old Cosmo tip for next time: “When you’re out on a hike with your man, slip a small, smooth stone into your pocket when he’s not looking. Then when you’re making love in an open field, retrieve the stone and gently press the small, smooth stone into the sensitive spot between his testicles and his anus. Guaranteed to drive him wild!”

  21. Ok, I actually think I can beat these stories, so what the hell.

    (Prologue: I was raised in a pathologically conservative family around issues of sex and gender.)

    Fast forward to me, a single woman of 27.

    Having anal sex with my then boyfriend, me on all fours, him behind me.

    As we were watching porn.

    I started coming so hard that i no longer cared about what was happening on the tv.

    He notices, and says, “Wait, wait, [maddy] you’re not watching!”

    I was coming so hard that I couldn’t respond, couldn’t catch my breath or make a noise, lost in one of those multiple orgasms that just goes on and on.

    He misinterprets my silence as me being in pain, so stops thrusting and turns into my sweet concerned boyfriend… “Omg, are you ok? omg…i’m so sorry, are you alright, did i hurt you, talk to me?”

    Of course, stopping mid-action was the last thing i wanted, so i managed to get out: “I’m… coming…”

    Rapidly, but equally concerned, he exclaimed “Omg! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!!!” and then resumes thrusting like a trooper. His prompt reaction and then super-earnest attempt to right himself made me laugh harder than I’ve ever laughed before or since in bed.

    I still beam when I think of it.

  23. Seriously? These were the best of the best kink stories? Though to be fair, the best stories aren’t going to be vacation stories, since they’re (and mine) are all mostly the same… spontaneous, albeit fairly vanilla, stranger sex in somewhat cool locations.

  24. Hello all,

    When I was in college I just randomly visited a friend in another dorm across campus who invited me into another person’s room to do some drinking. One of the other guests immediately started being rude to me, even singling me out for ridicule. Later, when I decided to leave, the woman who was being rude to me declares that she’d walk me to my dorm. Of course, she being tipsy, and completely unfamiliar with the campus (following a piss stop by her where she walked into a bush and dropped trou) I walked her back to the dorm and helped her sneak in through a window. The window happened to be into a small study room/lounge with a locking door and a comfortable couch. For some reason we started kissing, and I even made it to second base, before I finally got away some time later. The punchline: she was an acolyte Catholic nun. (Oddly enough she is the only woman I can recall even French kissing that I hadn’t known for at least a few months, so I was almost more conservative.)

    Peace.

  26. My brother has a fun story about having sex in a public place. It ends like this: Then a cop came by and arrested us. We’re registered sex offenders now. We had to tell all of our neighbors. My career as a teacher was ruined. The neighbors won’t let their children come to our house to play with our daughter. In short, crime doesn’t pay.

  28. Well, it’s not holiday sex but it’s kinky as hell:

    While in my teens, I had a three year affair with my stepmom! I had been lusting after her for years and finally found the courage to let her know. She reluctanly agreed to meet me in my room, hoping a quick BJ would take care of my raging hormones. So began the best sex of my life – it became a weekly event (dad attended a weekly event) until I left home. Sometimes, since we were the first ones awake in the morning, we would get into some heavy petting. One of my hottest memories occured in the kitchen on such a morning when we went too far. I convinced her to let me in “for just a few strokes” with out a condom. She leaned over the countertop, lifted her night gown and I slid right in. After several strokes I couldn’t stop myself and within moments of furious pounding I had to pull out and come on her ass.

  31. I am APPALLED that I have been getting sex advice from someone who hadn’t even been denounced by the GOP! I feel like Dan has misled his readers about his credentials this whole time. Would we have taken anal advice from a man the GOP might have approved of? Of course not!

    Readers should DEMAND that their sex advice comes from properly-denounced columnists ONLY. Anything less is un-American!

  32. The great tragedy in people being registered sex offenders for things like peeing in public or being 18 years old when having sex with a consenting 16 year old, is that in a short time, when people hear someone is a sex offender for raping 8 year olds, they will have no way of knowing what sort of sex offender the person is: the harmless kind or the big deal kind.

  34. As far as Potter inspired role playing is concerned,

    My wife and I would best portray Molly and Arthur Weasley, sans the red hair. She is closest to the Molly (from the book) dueling Beletrix; fierce for her family, and the mature lover listening to crooning love songs; hot to have her boiling cauldron stirred. Ahh, I love to whip my wand out and make some magic with my witch.

    Speaking of movies, anyone else seen “Cowboys and Aliens”? Did you notice the alien top boss died in a shower of gold, or a “golden shower”? I think they missed a chance to have a real camp moment when the cowboys were firing on the aliens from behind to shoot them in the ass(hole); it stands to reason it would be one of the soft points on their bodies. Whatever.

    Peace.

  35. No, please Google “Rick Santorum.”

    Santorum.com is only in third place if you Google his whole name.

    We can make Santorum no. 1 (yeah, even though it comes out of an entirely different hole.)

  36. @44,

    “Maybe a new generation” will get it right? Good luck with that! Given the Boomers’ Vietnam experiences, and widespread use of Pot, why are we in Iraq and medical marijuana is still illegal?

    I seriously hoped when Obama came in, and the Dems had control of both houses, that they would go after war profiteers and thieves to get our money back (funny you don’t hear the Teabagger law and order types railing for this). I believe Pot should be a taxable commodity like alcohol, even if I no longer use it. Better still, if hemp were legal to grow as a cash crop… But, it ain’t gonna happen.

    Sigh.

    Peace.

  37. @21 – and everyone – that “small smooth stone” thing may have once been a real Cosmo tip, but more importantly it’s been immortalized in an old Ron White comedy bit as an archetypal example of a random, desperate-to-fill-a-sex-advice-column tip that does NOT actually turn a man on. I think that’s true. No one needs rocks on their taint.

  38. Last weekend for my birthday my husband took me to a strip club. I’m not an outgoing “party girl” type but am excited by that sort of thing. On the way home I couldn’t wait to get my clothes off and since we live out in the country we had a long dark drive. Just past the city lights I started taking things off until when we pulled into the driveway all I had left was the skirt hiked up around my waist. He went in to pay the babysitter and I waited in the dark car until she left when I could run inside carrying my clothes. Then he tied me up and dominated me completely. It was great.

  40. The City of Seattle internet filters now consider “Santorum” a naughty word – most of the top google results are blocked, including a couple news stories. 😉

  41. One weekend, when I was 20, I was flying back home to California from visiting my family back East. I thought I was going to sit alone, when the last passenger getting on the plane sat down next to me. 30-something, HOT, businessman. I made a joking comment about him stealing my solitude, and he offered to buy drinks to make up for it. One thing led to another, we had awesome conversation, and eventually decided neither of us could pass up the opportunity to join the mile high club. We snuck to the bathroom. I went first; he followed. We had only a brief enocunter, before we got in the trouble, and the flight attendant came knocking on the door. We had an embarassing walk of shame back to our seats while the rest of the passengers were staring at us. It was awesome.

  42. Dear Penthouse Forum,

    I didn’t think this would ever happen to me….

    After a few decades of not seeing each other, an old college girlfriend invited me to a beach house her parents were renting. The first night we were very quiet while fooling around. The second night she felt uncomfortable with her parents in the adjoining room, so we did nothing. The third night, after she was slamming a bunch of tequila, I was hitting it hard from behind. The next morning her brother commented to me that you could hear everything through the walls in this beach house. Oops. I was leaving that morning anyways.

  44. @47, that reminds me of the time I had to pay the babysitter with my hair sticky with cum… It was a fun night, but I think she may be catching on to me 🙂

  46. And speaking of sex offenders, did anyone see that item in yesterday’s news about an 18-year-old who streaked a little league game & was caught because he dropped his cell phone (don’t ask) & is now officially registered as a freakin’ sex offender?

    Jeez, make the guy clean the field or do a couple hours community service, but sex offender? On his record indefinitely? Ludicrous!

  47. @39: I understand someone went on a shooting rampage a few years ago using the sex offender registry as his “to-do list” under exactly the same circumstances. So yeah, said confusion has indeed produced dire consequences already. And it kind of makes you wonder why said permanent record hasn’t gone away yet.

  48. Alright, so my greatest story happened when I was 22 and now, 10 years later, it’s still my best story to date.

    I was a pervy little thing — still am, actually — and liked it any way, anywhere, and any time, as long as it was frequent. At the time of this story I had a thing for doing my really Catholic boyfriend inside really Catholic churces. Hot.

    Anyway, he was playing in an alumni football game at his alma mater in some rural town in Oregon, and I was an ecstatic attendee. I mean, if you had seen the way his ass looked in his jersey pants you would have been hot in the panties, too. So he gets in my car later to make the trek to meet up with his teammates for pizza, but when we get close to the restaurant, instead of making the turn into the parking lot, I continue driving.

    “Where are you going?” He said.

    “Take off your pants” I replied.

    He did, and I proceeded to give him road head … while I was driving. Yep. Ladies and gentlemen, I gave my super hot boyfriend super hot oral while I was at the wheel. Safe? Nope. Memorable? You better believe it.

    We’re still friends now, though he’s married with kids and I’m living the fast life in San Francisco. But that memory is never far from my mind. I have to figure it’s not far from his, either.

  49. Alright, so my greatest story happened when I was 22 and now, 10 years later, it’s still my best story to date.

    I was a pervy little thing — still am, actually — and liked it any way, anywhere, and any time, as long as it was frequent. At the time of this story I had a thing for doing my really Catholic boyfriend inside really Catholic churces. Hot.

    Anyway, he was playing in an alumni football game at his alma mater in some rural town in Oregon, and I was an ecstatic attendee. I mean, if you had seen the way his ass looked in his jersey pants you would have been hot in the panties, too. So he gets in my car later to make the trek to meet up with his teammates for pizza, but when we get close to the restaurant, instead of making the turn into the parking lot, I continue driving.

    “Where are you going?” He said.

    “Take off your pants” I replied.

    He did, and I proceeded to give him road head … while I was driving. Yep. Ladies and gentlemen, I gave my super hot boyfriend super hot oral while I was at the wheel. Safe? Nope. Memorable? You better believe it.

    We’re still friends now, though he’s married with kids and I’m living the fast life in San Francisco. But that memory is never far from my mind. I have to figure it’s not far from his, either.

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