Thought about this the other day, what's the quickest you've managed to administer a snaking to someone after first meeting them? Obviously anything involving a monetary exchange is excluded.....
For me it was coincidentally my very first time. Western France, 1991 on holiday with my Dad, his second wife-to-be and her three young kids. As a 16yo who'd finished school and discovered the pleasures of binge drinking (Thunderbirds and Mad Dog 20/20 were often seen in the B household at a weekend!) I had no intention of hanging round with the family for the 10 days (I was only there as I didn't have to pay).
First night of arrival I set out to the resorts, ahem, 'nightclub'. Now at that age my social skills were not at a particularly advanced stage however I assumed that as I was on holiday there would be loads of scantily clad women dancing provocatively and looking for random casual sex. I walked in and got myself a beer and sat down at a table, a quick scan of the room showed a predominantly family based crowd with a dancefloor of idiots doing Black Lace and suchlike. I wondered for a moment whether I'd stumbled into some kind of Northern Social Club disco rather than a sophisticated French discotheque. Undeterred, I reminded myself that I could be back at the caravan ( :o ) playing scrabble or something with the family, got another beer and sat tight. Two hours passed, numerous beers had been racked up and I hadn't plucked up the courage to speak to a single other person yet however the demographics of the club had begun to change, families drifted away but the teenagers hung around. No change to the cheesy music however, on came the Lambada, 'load of ****' I thought to myself being the young metal fan that I was. My opinion on the song changed however when I was grabbed onto the dance floor by a blonde thing who proceeded to start grinding away - slim, not a stunner but certainly not too bad. My experience with women at that stage was limited to what I'd seen in random foreign pornos, decided the best course of action was to put that to one side for the moment and just go with it. A few songs later and we retired to a table. Usual basic information was exchanged and then we went to a table where a bunch of people she'd met whilst on holiday were sat. Introductions were made, basic chit chat for about half an hour and then I was grabbed by said blonde again for another spell of dancing. Or so I assumed. Suddenly we were making a bee line for the exit, again I just went with it. I was dragged into the bushes and pressed against a tree, out came the old boy and before I knew it the magic was happening, Now would have been the time to employ the techniques I'd viewed in the aforementioned artistic movies however at the time all I was trying to concentrate on was:
A) getting it in the right hole and
B) not blowing my load in seconds
A brief, fumbled effort ensued, I doubt she got much out of it but I didn't care. After probably not many minutes we were dusting ourselves off and heading back to the bar, yours truly grinning away like a Cheshire cat. Not long after that she disappeared, after chatting to the others it turned out she'd been like that most of the week and had already made it clear she wanted one last effort before she went home. Did I care? Absolutely not! :guns:
I never saw her again, had some further success later in the holiday however nothing like the spur of the moment randomness of the first night. 16 years later and despite reasonably regular success in my 20's, I've never managed to top that record of 90 minutes from first meet to snake.
I'm sure others can improve on that. Dave? Chadded? Slipper?
For me it was coincidentally my very first time. Western France, 1991 on holiday with my Dad, his second wife-to-be and her three young kids. As a 16yo who'd finished school and discovered the pleasures of binge drinking (Thunderbirds and Mad Dog 20/20 were often seen in the B household at a weekend!) I had no intention of hanging round with the family for the 10 days (I was only there as I didn't have to pay).
First night of arrival I set out to the resorts, ahem, 'nightclub'. Now at that age my social skills were not at a particularly advanced stage however I assumed that as I was on holiday there would be loads of scantily clad women dancing provocatively and looking for random casual sex. I walked in and got myself a beer and sat down at a table, a quick scan of the room showed a predominantly family based crowd with a dancefloor of idiots doing Black Lace and suchlike. I wondered for a moment whether I'd stumbled into some kind of Northern Social Club disco rather than a sophisticated French discotheque. Undeterred, I reminded myself that I could be back at the caravan ( :o ) playing scrabble or something with the family, got another beer and sat tight. Two hours passed, numerous beers had been racked up and I hadn't plucked up the courage to speak to a single other person yet however the demographics of the club had begun to change, families drifted away but the teenagers hung around. No change to the cheesy music however, on came the Lambada, 'load of ****' I thought to myself being the young metal fan that I was. My opinion on the song changed however when I was grabbed onto the dance floor by a blonde thing who proceeded to start grinding away - slim, not a stunner but certainly not too bad. My experience with women at that stage was limited to what I'd seen in random foreign pornos, decided the best course of action was to put that to one side for the moment and just go with it. A few songs later and we retired to a table. Usual basic information was exchanged and then we went to a table where a bunch of people she'd met whilst on holiday were sat. Introductions were made, basic chit chat for about half an hour and then I was grabbed by said blonde again for another spell of dancing. Or so I assumed. Suddenly we were making a bee line for the exit, again I just went with it. I was dragged into the bushes and pressed against a tree, out came the old boy and before I knew it the magic was happening, Now would have been the time to employ the techniques I'd viewed in the aforementioned artistic movies however at the time all I was trying to concentrate on was:
A) getting it in the right hole and
B) not blowing my load in seconds
A brief, fumbled effort ensued, I doubt she got much out of it but I didn't care. After probably not many minutes we were dusting ourselves off and heading back to the bar, yours truly grinning away like a Cheshire cat. Not long after that she disappeared, after chatting to the others it turned out she'd been like that most of the week and had already made it clear she wanted one last effort before she went home. Did I care? Absolutely not! :guns:
I never saw her again, had some further success later in the holiday however nothing like the spur of the moment randomness of the first night. 16 years later and despite reasonably regular success in my 20's, I've never managed to top that record of 90 minutes from first meet to snake.
I'm sure others can improve on that. Dave? Chadded? Slipper?
