Best places to have sex in Cambridge

With a colossal working week that functions as a libido-sucking black hole, many sad Cantabs ask themselves that sad question: “Will I ever have sex again?”

Yes, yes, yes – you will.

Cambridge Features Freshers Sex

And if you plan ahead, your Michaelmas doesn’t have to be a loveless eight week-long stretch of loneliness.

Part of the trouble is that in Cam you have to deal with the issue of single beds. But with a little creativity and a little adventurousness you’ll realise there are plenty of wide, open spaces to do it, with only a small to medium risk of being espied by your college parents and/or supervisors.

One of the quiet corners of the UL

We’ve all thought about it. Maybe it’s the subliminal effect of entering a building shaped like a massive phallus. Maybe it’s a natural urge bring the unnatural order of the books into a more worldly dissarray. There are many corners of the UL which seem temptingly uninhabited during the first two terms.

penis-shaped building  ft plenty of desks to be bent over

Penis-shaped building ft. plenty of desks to be bent over.

We’ve all experienced a moment of breathlessness accidently catching the eye of only other soul on floor six, and wondered if this will be the time the books get thrown off the shelves in a moment of uneducated passion.

Rumour has it all of those bookcase lights are actually powered by the sexual tension of workaholic strangers.

Peterhouse Deer Park

pop an antihistamine and get snuggly in the shrubbery

Pop an antihistamine and get snuggly in the shrubbery

You’ve heard what they say about Peterhouse, so this is probably a commonly suggested idea – but the deer park is an idyllic pastoral setting with connotations of spring and fertility. Being outside is good for you.

Do it in a bush, like the foxes on Countryfile, with minimal risk of being spotted by porter or groundskeeper. Or for bonus points: up against one of the big trees.

In a punt

you know what your mother told you about sailors. Punters count as sailors.

You know what your mother told you about sailors? Punters count as sailors.

Think of the view of the stars reflected in the water. Think of the gentle rocking motion. Think of the tourists who will pay to use the boat after you and assume that stain is congealed duck poo. But most importantly, assuming you or your partner has a vagina, think of the genital-related puns.

Kings’ College chapel

Henry VIII would have wanted it this way

Henry VIII – a fan of the ladies if anyone was – would have wanted it this way.

You’re going to hell anyway – sheep as a lamb. Imagine staring at that incredible fan vault whilst being penetrated. Gothic splendour indeed.

The Fitzwilliam Museum

If, through some combination of planning, key-stealing and guard-bribing, you could sneak into the gallery after dark, this would be the ultimate decadent Cambridge experience. Epitomising the oh-so-Cantab values of simultaneously revelling in high culture and being a complete spoilt animal. Not to mention, all of those oil-painted eyes would satisfy your inner exhibitionist without judging the size and shape of your junk.

Do it in front of the Titian and the CCTV footage will probably make national news.

Cindies toilets

the actual cubicle is even moister than the dance floor

The actual cubicle is even moister than the dance floor.

Not because it would be enjoyable, or entertaining, or sexy in any conceivable way. Because it would be worth two and a half minutes of jung-bomb-halitosis tonsil tennis and ‘oh-shit- what -did I-just-put-my-hand-in?’ to secure near-mythical status for the duration of your degree. Nay, career.

A seminar room in your college

A fairly sensible suggestion, what this idea lacks in sexiness it makes up for by being logically possible. You might get friction burns from those awful squares of plastic carpet, but least the caretakers will be able to replace any patches of floor which are difficult to remove semen from afterwards. And you can lock the door. It might break up the essay session a bit. Just wash your hands before you give the keys back to the porters.

The college boathouse

May bumping. He knows.

May bumping. He knows.

Sure, it’s bit soggy and shack-like but there’s testosterone in the air – surely someone’s got to be into that. The pheromones from the sweat probably trigger some kind of bodily voodoo to get the frisky feelings afeeling.

Any of the copious amounts of grass we aren’t allowed to walk on

oh you devil

Oh you devil.

Pointless rules are made to be broken. It should be a staple of Cambridge bucket lists to get grass-stains on your knees at least once.

And with these suggestions in mind, fellow nerds, go forth and bump uglies in some beautiful places.

 

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