Confessions: What’s the freakiest thing you’ve done in bed?
It’s cold outside and everyone is coupled up with their temporary girlfriends and boyfriends for the winter. What do you have to keep yourself warm with? The memories of the probably-not-that-vanilla sex you had in the past? The promise of a balmy summer, of evenings where you gather around a campfire in a field and laugh drunkenly as you confess tales of your sexual prowess? Yeah, us too.
We asked some of you the freakiest thing you’ve done in bed, and this is what you said:
I met on a girl on my gap year and told her when I was single we will have sex. Two years later my girlfriend and I broke up — and she was the first person I called. I was in London staying at my mates house so I called her up, borrowed his flat keys and took her back to his. We stumbled in the door violently pulling, tore each others clothes off and got at it. Ten minutes in there’s a banging on the door — shit Charlie is back. I waddled over to the door with just my socks on and said “please mate 10 more minutes”, but Charlie was having none of it, and said it was his flat (he had a point to be fair). Thinking on the spot, we suggested a threesome. The next two hours we brought each other water, swapping in and out, taking notes on speed, posture and stamina. I woke up in the morning spooning Charlie, had breakfast with Flora and she proceeded to ask me for Charlie’s number. I can safely say romance between Flora and I never blossomed.
I had been seeing this girl for a few weeks and it seemed as if it had run its course, so I did the honourable thing and stopped replying to her texts altogether. The next Wednesday night I was on a massive one with the boys, and she kept calling me. She then sent me a text saying that a man was following her home, and I panicked. A bit of context, someone had stalked her home the week before and grabbed her, so it seemed like she was genuinely in peril. Ever the knight in shining armour, I got straight in a cab to go rescue her (twenty five pounds). It turned out she was fine, and she had made the whole thing up to get me to come over. I was confused, outraged, drunk and desperate to shag something, so I did begrudgingly go back with her. We were having sex and she was getting into it, aggressively intoning the words “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me”. This seriously ticked me off, as I was putting in a real shift. I was fucking her, and I was doing my best. You’ve eaten at this restaurant before, and if you don’t like the set menu you can go somewhere else. It got to the point where she was screaming “fuck me” louder than a jet engine, and I snapped — I pulled out, and promptly came all over her. When she got up from the bed to shower, she looked like the losing parent at the end of Get Your Own Back when they emerge from the gunge pit, covered head to foot in slime. She wasn’t especially pleased, but I fell contentedly asleep straight away. Oops.
Me and my boyfriend have been together for years now, so we get freaky and mix it up quite a lot. I’m up for anything really. We have sex on my period all the time, he really likes it and sometimes smudges it on my head like Simba from The Lion King. The dirtiest thing I’ve probably ever done is let him piss on my face. He has asked me to scat on him, I think I’ll do it, I guess then that will be the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done.
I’d just started seeing this guy, and we went back to his house after a night out. I’d drank quite a lot, but thought it would be fine. As I was giving him head, I got really into it and a bit ahead of myself. I was going deeper than I normally could, and eventually ended up throwing up all over his dick. I was so grossed out that I couldn’t even say anything, so just pretended I wasn’t feeling it anymore and called it a night.
We were having sex. Normal sex. Then I felt a hand around my throat. Then it tightened. Not necessarily a bad thing. I’m as sexually liberated as the next man. She asked me if I enjoyed it and I said it was alright. After noting the mild approval in my voice she told me to do it to her. However there’s a more worrying detail to this story. The girl I was dating had just come out of a relationship because her ex had tried to kill her — by strangling her. That’s a whole other level I won’t understand until I get my Psychology BSc from the Open University.
We got back from a night out and were back in halls. We went to his room and started play-fighting. I was waving my phone around talking about calling a cab. He pinned me onto the floor and held down the arm that was holding my phone (it was fine, because a) he was super hot and b) we both knew I was joking about wanting to leave). Things progressed and while we were at it we got pretty rough, he was gradually getting more and more aggressive to the point where he was all out hitting me. This, again, was kind of fine but then he started calling me a “silly little cunt” and genuinely used the phrase “you’re so dirty, if I was an EDL skin-head you would still want this”. Afterwards he got out his guitar and sang me a song he’d written. I had bruises for the next week.
It’s a bit of a running joke I always get asked for anal, and I dated a guy who wasn’t shy about how much he wanted to do it. We first met in a club and went back to mine. It was just a one night stand, and I thought he was just trying his luck and suggested it. I’ll happily take a finger, but the whole thing is just too much for me. I said no, and thought that was that. I saw him the week after and we went back to his where, again, he asked if we could do anal, and he was really surprised I didn’t want to. His anal obsession grew to the point when a few weeks down the line, we were having sex and I was kneeling, and he started wiggling my bum. I mean both hands on both cheeks, wobbling away until he came. It was really bizarre. The next time we had sex, he was being a bit slow to come, so he turned me onto my front, pinned me down and started wanking off in my bum. Like a tit wank, but between my cheeks, and then came all over my back. He asked me for anal again after that, and I had to call it a day.
After a particularly boozy dinner with my family and some of my sisters’ friends, my boyfriend and I went upstairs at around 1am, leaving my family downstairs. My room was directly above the dining room and we started having sex. I was on top when my sister crashed into the room and asked if we were okay. The pillar below us had cracked down the middle (the house had just been built, it was not an old wall). My sisters’ friends all ran up and proceeded to high five my boyfriend. The pillar was behind my dad and everyone else said they tried not to react. Luckily my mum had gone to bed, but my best friend kindly offered our wall demolition services in my birthday speech. It wasn’t subtle, and there’s still a crack in the pillar.
I had gone on holiday with my boyfriend and our hotel room had this huge white bed and on the wall next to it there was a big mirror. When we first walked in I thought it looked like a whore house and I immediately felt self conscious before we had even so much as taken our clothes off. I had no desire to see the way my belly would roll or how weird my bum looks when i’m having sex. My boyfriend, however, was delighted, and that night I came around to the idea.
The sex got increasingly filthy as we looked at our ourselves and it was actually a bit of a turn on. He enjoyed the looking part more, but I really liked him looking at me like that. It culminated in a naked photo shoot on the bed where I did some poses in some positions that I would have never thought I would do. But there you have it. The power of hotels.
I was out in my hometown (Peterborough) on NYE, probably 2012 or 2013. I started talking to this fit but very boring local girl. We hit it off and before we knew it, we were back at her parents’ house naked and getting off. It’s all going well until she leads me into the bathroom, lies down in the bath, puts the plug in and begs me to piss on her. I’m about 10 beers in and just decide to go for it, soaking her completely. She starts rolling around and washing her hair with it. After about five minutes, she gets up, towels herself off and we have perfectly nice, normal, if not slightly sticky sex.
A Saturday afternoon in Kingston, November 2013. It was the time of year where the shops are getting busier for Christmas and everywhere smells like Cinnamon. I was in H&M because I needed some more average T-shirts and cheap jeans. I picked out a few pairs of black skinnies and went to the changing room. My girlfriend sat on the awkward stool outside whilst I got changed. I called her to have a look and she came in the cubicle and started wanking me off and it just kept escalating until we were fucking against the full length mirror trying not to make a sound. After a couple of minutes, a shop assistant came to see if I needed anything and without pulling out, I stuck my head our of the curtain and asked her to get me a pair of the slim fits in black.
Hi. I’m going to tell you a story called “The time I had sex up a tree and it was quite weird and stressful but sort of hot at the same time”. It starts in Surrey at a party so posh and so Jay Gatz that you wondered whether the money involved setting it all up would be enough to buy an island or afford a one bedroom flat in Canada Water. Champagne flutes on arrival, steaks eaten in a marquee the size of a whole street of terraced homes, I decided the only way the evening could be even more capital than it already was would be to have sex. And so I got chatting to a girl and we danced (quite raunchily tbh) and we drank and she sat on my lap when we shared a ciggie outside. It was all coming together. As the party started dying down around 4am, she asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. No problem I thought, a shag in a field in Surrey, easy mate. Then she kept walking and kept walking until she came to a big, big oak tree. Taller than a double decker bus. With the words “follow me” trailing her, she started climbing it. Climbing trees wasn’t one of my strong points when I was a kid and unsurprisingly it’s not one of them now. But it was nearly 5am by this point and she was fun and good looking — I weighed it all up and thought fuck it, I will climb the tree, I will have sex in the tree. Up I went. It’s worth noting at this point that she’s pretty short and I’m pretty tall. We got to this sort of V section of branches where I could stand painfully on one foot and she could wrap her legs around my waist. Both my arms were spread out and holding two other branches. I looked down and realised: we’re so high up that if this branch snaps we’re going to hit some more branches and then the floor and we’ll probably die, which added a certain frisson to everything. Also: I managed to get completely, starkly, bare butt naked. She wasn’t. I ripped her tights open and she asked me whether I had a condom. Agonised, I glanced at my jeans, where the nearest condom was, about twelve foot down on the floor under the tree. I patiently explained where it was to her and how I didn’t think I could physically climb this massive, massive tree again. She understood and we started shagging and oh my god did it feel good. Without a doubt, the best 30 second of sex in a tree I have ever, ever had. Yeah, 30 seconds. After all that, it lasted 30 seconds. I think the lesson here is to – actually I’m not even sure there’s a lesson here. I had sex in a tree, without a condom and I came really quickly. Fin.
We were in the V&A, and things started to get a bit heated. Maybe it was the Victorian bed four poster, maybe it was Titian’s nudes, but either way we couldn’t hold on for a hour commute home. We head to the nearest toilets and managed to get in without looking suspicious, I pretended I’d cut my hand and he had to come in and help me. Next thing we were fucking up against the wall in the busy toilets while people were waiting outside. Walking out without people looking was the worst thing, but apart from a few judging looks nothing came of it.
It’s not really freaky, but it is very funny. I had to apologise for about a week after. We were 17, and it was a snow day so we didn’t bother going to school. We took her dog for a walk in the forest, we would let him off the lead and he’d be fine running around without us for 20 minutes at a time. We thought we had some alone time so started going at it. We were having sex up against the tree and then moved to the ground. It was cold and her bum was exposed, making it all a bit weirder. The dog then fucking comes back, and started licking her foot making her laugh. She tightened up so much it made me come early, so to get my own back I squashed a load of snow in her face.
I don’t usually mind being tied up or having sex in weird places, but there are some things that take it from sex to sadism. One time my ex and I had got back from a night out and we were both pretty drunk. Basically we started having sex and the next minute he pulls out this mini cat-of-nine-tails whip which I never even knew he had, saying he’d had it for ages and really wanted to use it. It was a weird flogger, but I thought why not, may as well try it, and he properly hit me with it a few times before I realised it wasn’t fun, and was just painful. It felt really odd to be whipped so hard and so suddenly and repeatedly, like he had been bottling it up for ages. I asked him to stop and when we woke up in the morning we never brought it up for the remainder of the relationship.
I’d been out on a sports social, and was pissed to say the least. As soon as we walked into the club I started getting off with this super hot French girl, and I couldn’t believe my luck – especially when she whispered into my ear that we should go back to hers. Half an hour later we were in her bed getting down to it. We had just started having sex when she looked at me with lustful eyes and suggested we move this to the shower. Obviously I said yes. We relocated and things picked up again when my drunkenness caught up with me and I realised I was about to throw up. Opting out of covering her or blocking up the plughole, I bolted through the shower door, dropped to my knees and started projectile vomiting in the toilet. And I mean projectile – so hard, in fact, that I started farting continuously throughout. There I am, filled with shame, kneeling on the floor simultaneously farting and chundering, with her watching the whole thing. So imagine my surprise when I looked up to see her still standing in the shower, staring at me and fingering herself. Everyone has a turn-on, I guess.
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