This summer Dave and I went on holiday for a week to Italy on the Amalfi Coast. We also went with my parents, my brother and his long-term girlfriend. It was lovely.
Except, the week fell EXACTLY over my fertile period. Bang on. And the best bit? Our room was RIGHT NEXT DOOR to my brother’s and his girlfriend’s room. Oh, and it gets better. The floor was tiled, the wooden bed creaked, and the headboard was against the dividing wall between us.
Perfect TTC conditions, wouldn’t you agree?
Well we had to make the best of a bad situation. There was no way in hell that I was going to waste a week of 3 Ps – pasta, pizza and penis. We just had to be a bit creative.
First issue was noise. We found the perfect position (doggy – yay for Dave!) and we had to do it at the end of the bed, adjacent to the headboard. This meant minimal movement across the tiled floor. Win. But then there was also the issue of MY noise. I am not a quiet shagger. Especially the way Dave does it sometimes (TMI sorry). But it was absolutely crucial I was silent during this week. There was no way I could look my 34 year old brother in the eye over breakfast if he heard what his brother-in-law was doing to his sister the night before… So, a muzzle it had to be. I’m sure there were teeth marks left in my pillow when we vacated at the end of the week…
Second issue was slipping away to get our groove on without being really obvious about what we were up to. Whenever we are away on holiday, and we’re relaxed, and we’re enjoying the sun and cocktails by the pool, we get horny. Now, on normal holidays this is fine. There’s just the two of you, and you discreetly slip away at 2pm for a mid-afternoon quickie. But when you’re on holiday with 4 other people, 3 of whom are close family members, you can’t exactly say “Back in a bit. Off for a shag.” Or me saying “I’m off for a poo.” Then Dave immediately going “Errr, I’m off for a poo too.” Yes, we are both going to disappear to our room for a poo at the same time and then come back down 30 minutes later looking all dishevelled after our poos. Well, somehow we figured it out. Even when there was the time that we disappeared for OVER AN HOUR in the middle of the afternoon and when we got back to the pool I overheard my mum comment to my dad that we had been gone for a while…
Then there was the time that Dave had literally JUST FINISHED inside me and my mum knocked at the door to borrow the hairdryer. I just casually laid there on the bed in my towel trying to do my best nonchalant look, but looking more like Joey’s attempt in Friends.
And the ultimate danger shag came 30 minutes before we had to check out on our last day. Dave and I wanted to take one last chance at catching the egg. My temp had dropped that morning, the spike was due the next day, we were all packed with nothing to do so we thought “fuck it, let’s get another one in”. We had time. We didn’t need to vacate the room until 12pm…
It was 11:40am when my dad knocked on the door. Dave was seconds away from coming. The handle started rattling (thank FUCK we locked it), we both muttered “shit”, I picked up my discarded pants off the floor and ran to the bathroom quicker than a fat kid chasing cake, and left Dave to answer the door with a concealed hard on. Poor bloke. Turns out Dad was checking to see if we were done. Oh the irony. No, we weren’t ‘done’. In fact, that last danger shag had to be abandoned. Cheers for that Dad.
That week we got 7 shags in. 2 of them in the space of 6 hours. And we STILL didn’t get pregnant. FML.