Danger shags in Sicily

So today we got back from our much needed week-long holiday to Sicily.

That is, a week-long FAMILY holiday to Sicily.

This followed the same pattern as last year’s holiday to Italy with my parents, brother and (might as well be) sister-in-law: getting drunk, having a laugh, taking the piss, sunbathing, making happy memories and spending the parents’ inheritance. 

Except there were two differences to last year’s circumstances: I was on my period at the start of the week, and our room was BETWEEN my parents’ room and my brother and SIL’s room.

It is these two key things that I’m going to write about.

I was expecting my period. Those of you that follow my Facebook and Instagram pages will have seen I was desperate to get my period out of the way so that I could avoid being on during my holiday and therefore not have to use tampons by the pool. But alas, although it came 2 days before I was due to fly, I still had to endure 2 days of using tampons so that I didn’t miss out on sunbathing by the pool. And the great thing is I mastered them! I still didn’t trust them completely, especially when I was swimming, but there were no incidences. Possibly helped by the fact my flow was quite light by then.

The day before we went away, Dave and I went to the other end of the country to a football match with a mutual good friend (G, I’ve written about him before). On the long car journey there and back we discussed period sex. As you all know, Dave has always been against this idea but I’m not too fussed. Well, our mate is a firm believer in it so he was encouraging Dave to take one for the team and just do it haha. Dave’s condition was that I tried out our mate’s new twist on bum sex (FFS…) if he did period sex. I agreed (not really, but you say what you say to get what you want don’t you 😉)

On Monday night, I got absolutely off my face on Limoncello, wine (I don’t even drink wine) and too many tequila sunrises to count. I was spinning around the dance floor and dancing like an absolute raving lunatic. At about midnight Dave took me back to the room. I literally have no memory of how I got back or what we did, but apparently I told Dave I wasn’t on my period anymore (hahaha I’m such a bastard liar when I’m drunk!) and he ended up having unintentional period sex with me. Quite clearly I must have been borderline unconscious and just let him have his way with me (it’s cool, don’t worry, there’s an agreed understanding between us). Without going into TMI there wasn’t any clear up to be done but I do have a vague memory of going to the toilet afterwards to get rid of the sperm so I didn’t have to sleep in a bloody mess on the hotel bed. Obviously this isn’t my usual post-coital routine because there’s no way I would waste millions of potential babies down the loo!

Poor Dave said that he could tell I was still on my period. I asked him how and he said because it was all over his penis and up my arse crack!

Poor Dave.

I don’t think he was too traumatised though, seeing he was also quite hammered that night, and he was quick to remind me of my part of the bargain.

No. The answer is still no. His mate still reminds me that I owe Dave though…

That was Danger Shag 1 of the holiday.

Day 3 brought Danger Shag 2. Dave had been out with my family on a day trip and I had been on my own reading an emotional book (more of that in my next post). I was feeling quite wobbly for the rest of the day and I ended up really missing Dave. So it was a lovely surprise when he jumped me literally 15 minutes before we were supposed to be meeting the others for dinner. I was halfway through doing my hair and hadn’t done my make up yet so I did protest that we only had 10 minutes but Dave was on a mission to take me from behind on the sofa. The problem is, the angle, and my inability to keep quiet. Especially knowing that our room was sandwiched by my family and the fact they could hear every drag of furniture on the tiled floor meant we had to be super quick and super quiet. Well, we managed one of those things at least. And of course I had to sit on the toilet and get rid of more potential babies so that they weren’t streaming down my leg at dinner. Nice.

Danger Shag 3 came on the fourth day of the holiday. It was before 9am, we had just got back from breakfast and I was lotioning up ready for a day by the pool. Apparently the sight of me bending over the dresser whilst Dave did my back was too much for him to resist. My bikini bottoms were quickly discarded and a 10 minute quickie exactly where I was stood started the day with a bang. Not wanting a mess on the sunbed, once again I sat on that loo and said goodbye to another several million potential babies.

Now Danger Shag 4. Jeez, Danger Shag 4… Let’s just say we’ll be including 69ers waaaay more in our fertile week foreplay from now on. And thank God it was the following day when I got bad sunburn on my arse and between my thighs because sitting on his bearded face with that… ouch, what a combination! We decided to let the housekeeping staff take care of the millions of babies left on the bed that night. Once we’d dried them with a hairdryer of course because it was ME sleeping in the wet patch.

Finally Danger Shag 5 came on our last night. I’d specifically said to Dave that I wanted to make love to him rather than have a dirty rough fuck like we had been having all week. As fun as they were (and I’ll definitely be recalling on them to help us through the not-so-exciting sessions) I missed having the emotional connection. So we excused ourselves early from dinner to get an early night, laid in bed chatting about what a lovely holiday we had and enjoyed missionary for the first time in forever. It was slow, it was steady, and it didn’t rub my sunburn haha. I didn’t let those potential babies go down the loo that night.

The next morning my SIL said she heard me and Dave chatting in the room last night. We quickly glanced at each other over the breakfast table. Shit. Were we that loud? If she’d heard us doing quiet, slow love-making, surely she must have heard the other nights?!

There was nearly a Danger Shag 6 on the morning we checked out. We had 20 minutes to spare. I nipped to the loo and then we were going to go for it. Clothed. On the dresser. Then my dad knocked on the door saying we had to leave. Fucking hell it was like Italy last year all over again. Except this time we hadn’t got to the stage of me running to the bathroom retrieving my pants on the way, and Dave answering the door with a concealed hard on.

Speaking of erections, there was also a time on our way to dinner when Dave was thinking naughty thoughts and got a hard on in his shorts. We were too far to go back to the room so he had to carry my bag to the bar and walked in front of everyone holding my clutch bag in front of his groin. Obviously there was no reason why on earth I couldn’t carry my own bag so it was probably plain as day to everyone in the hotel what was going on!

This holiday has been just what we needed. Chilled. Reconnected. Deeper in love. It’s just a bloody shame that I wasn’t fertile at all over the week, because if I was then my eggs would have stood no chance resisting the oceans of sperm in me!

But that’s how it goes I suppose. The best sex is when the pressure is off. 

Dave says he doesn’t want me to tell him when we NEED to have sex this cycle, just have lots of it! I’m game for that. Takes the pressure off us both, hopefully.

And then he can take the pressure off the bum sex deal.

I know he won’t though. According to him, after the period sex, he declared that he “had the keys to the Anal Kingdom”. I owe him.

Cheers for that, G…

3 thoughts on “Danger shags in Sicily

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