A 2003 Valentine's Day Sex Story

Well today is Valentine. Its all about love. Lots of sex will surely happen. If it actually sounded like a bomb, we would be hearing booom, boom booooom, booom booom, from now till maybe noon tomorrow.

Many young people are eager to get it done for the first time. We out gift for you today is a very romantic love story on a valentine day. A confession by Elizabeth who does not want her full name out. 

Enjoy reading below. If you want to try, do it safe unless its with your legally married partner.

Valentine’s Day, February 2003

Leland and I had been dating for a few months and this was our first Valentine’s Day together so I wanted to have some alone time. The problem? We were both living with our parents. So I did what any horny 22 year old would do: I bought them a gift certificate to a restaurant and sent them out to dinner. 

I planned a meal to make for Leland, and for the life of me I can’t remember what I made except for french onion soup. I know, who makes a romantic dinner with onions? But Leland loves french onion soup so I made it for the very first time that night.

I set the table with a red table cloth, sprinkled heart confetti on the table, and lit some candles. When I was done making dinner I put on a sexy dress I borrowed from my sister that barely covered my ass and waited for Leland’s arrival. 

We sat down to eat dinner, and to be honest, it was a little uncomfortable. I am sure you all know that Leland and I are not the romantic type. The food was decent, except for the french onion soup. I followed the directions to the letter and it still tasted like smelly feet. So not romantic. Leland ate it anyway to make me happy.

After dinner we put the food away and then immediately Leland started putting on the moves. So we had sex. Lots and lots of sex all over my parent’s kitchen. We were on the sink, the counter, the stove, up against the wall and even on the floor. It seemed Leland cared less about the dinner and more about removing the slutty dress I borrowed from my sister. After we had worn out the kitchen, we went to my bedroom that was located in the basement. 

A little while later we heard my parents come home. We stayed in bed for a few minutes, deciding when would be a good time to go upstairs and say hello to my parents because we didn’t want them to think we were having sex. At this point my parents still thought I was saving myself for marriage. I really didn’t feel like bursting that bubble for them on that night.

Seconds later Leland shot up in bed and frantically started getting dressed. 

“What’s the hurry?” I asked.

“Your parents are home and we left condom wrappers all over the kitchen,” Leland said.

At this point I was on my feet, trying to find the clothes my parents had seen me in before they left. I wasn’t sure where we had left all of the condom wrappers, but was pretty sure there were at least two on the table. 

The table that had a red table cloth on it.

A red table cloth that would make the condom wrappers impossible to miss.

And my parents always came in the house through the back door the led directly into the kitchen.

We both got dressed in lightening time and booked our asses upstairs. Somehow in the short amount of time we decided that I would talk to my parents and try to distract them from the kitchen as Leland gathered all of the evidence. 

By the time we got upstairs, both of my parents were sitting in the living room. They were surprisingly calm. They told me about their dinner, said they had a nice time, and then asked how our night was. I wasn’t sure if my mom was trying to set me up to be caught, or if they really didn’t see the mess we left behind. I said it was nice, we had fun, and that Leland was cleaning up the kitchen as we spoke. My parents both got up to say hello to Leland and walked in the kitchen as he was shoving the last wrapper in his pocket. 

Then they decided we should all have a drink together, which was a great idea because at that point I really needed something strong to take the edge off. 

To this day I have no idea if my parents saw the mess. And since my mom doesn’t read my blogs with the words “sex” or “BJ” in the title (thank goddess), I won’t find out now either. 

And that is totally okay with me

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