There is this football field in my hometown where I’ve had a lot of sex. I don’t know, there’s something funny about orgasming inside the big “O” in the center of the field.
I’ve always preferred outdoor sex. I’ve never understood what is sexy about having sex in small, cramped places like bathroom stalls, closets, or even beds. True, there is some arousal that comes with having sex where you’re not supposed to—but how is sex really fantastic if you can’t move around and if you have to be quiet?
Outside, you can spread out and roll around. You can be really fucking loud. Instead of limiting your options, it opens up a world of possibilities for awesome sex.
Some of the most romantic sex I’ve had has been outside: afterward we cuddled and looked at the stars.
Some of the raunchiest sex I’ve had has been outside: up against a tree, on top of a mountain we’d hiked for the night. If a girl orgasms in the woods and no one is there to hear it…
Maybe I like having sex outside because it makes me feel one with nature. Like it’s more environmentally friendly or something. Like generations before me came on the same earth. It’s like when you’re a kid and you only feel like you’ve accomplished something at the end of the day if you have grass stains on your knees. Except, in this case, you can’t distinguish which scratches on your back are from pine needles or from fingernails.
And the best part is, sometimes it rains.
Having sex outside when it’s raining is one of the best experiences imaginable. It’s like that scene from The Notebook meets that scene from Titanic. You’re on your back and the rain feels like a thousand fingers touching you at the same time. You’re wet in every possible way.
So as much as I understand the temptation to stay tucked in your beds or to struggle to fit on your futon, I also urge y’all to embrace the great outdoors. Yeah, it’s a little cold, but nothing heats things up like a little outdoor sex.