Ouch! beaded seat covers are supposed to be relaxing, though I guess I’m not following the manufacturers recomendations.
Parking behind the local supermarket late at night seemed the perfect place, with my girlfriend, to get together in my folks transit van to satiate our most carnal (ergo fun) needs.; we live with our parents and it’s a week day, we improvised.
It was going great. The preamble of spreading out the blankets stolen from home complete, we’d got comfy in the back.
If I hadn’t have used my hand to steady myself against the back door window then the condensation that built up would not have wiped away revealing someone walking their dog. Who walks their dog at this hour for Christ sake?
In the panic it seemed like a wise idea to drive off to find somewhere else to park and to get dressed again. Now I’m sitting next to the depot hoping the bus driver to my left doesn’t look right, whilst the beaded seat nips hidden brail message into my buttocks. Ouch!