(obligatory this happened a while ago)
We’d been dating for a few months when she invited me to join her on a tropical vacation. At first blush, it seemed idyllic: a villa on the beach, steps from the ocean. Sand between our toes, the stars at night…and her family. That’s right, this was a family vacation. A shared villa. What could be described, at best, as a semi-private bedroom, with her family next door, separated by a curtain. The capstone? Twin beds.
We were still in the having-sex-every-time-we-can phase, which made these accommodations extra hard. Early in the morning, she could get into my bed, or I hers, and we could kiss a little, but with her family on the other side of a thin, semi-transparent sheet of fabric, neither of us was prepared to go any further. By the third day of this, we were both dying. I felt like a teenager again, where a stiff breeze would get me hard, and I was afraid to wear anything too lose for fear of pitching a tent.