I was reminded of this story in a recent chat room conversation and thought I would share it.

We live in the upper Midwest. Much of the countryside is farmland with the occasional small town. In the summer every town has a festival; Corn days, Gopher days, Rhubarb Festival, Buffalo says. You get the idea.

One common activity is a parade down Main Street. Again, small-town stuff; The Mayor and family in a convertible, Boy Scout Troup carrying the flag, Beauty Queen and court on a tractor-drawn float, High School band, ending with fire trucks with lights flashing. Enough setup.

My wife and I had spent the weekend at a swinger’s party. We were driving home on a beautiful summer day, windows open, cool breeze blowing in. We had a couple of hours ahead of us on two-lane State highways. Nobody else was on the roads.

When I’ve had non-stop sex for a couple of days, it takes me some time to return to everyday libido levels. Driving home I was still horny. I talked my wife into getting naked. Since all we could see were corn fields and empty roads, she agreed. I stripped as well.

We were happily stroking each other when we came to a speed zone announcing a town. No problem, I thought, 35 MPH for a few blocks and then back to 55 MPH and corn fields. It’s Sunday, nobody will be downtown. HA!

We slowed to the posted 25 MPH, and rounded a curve onto Main Street to find it lined with families waiting for their parade to start. People were standing ready on the barricades to stop traffic. We were the last traffic let through.

My wife slid off her seat, hiding on the floor in embarrassment. The only thing I  could do was smile and wave.

As shocking as it was to us, naked and masturbating on a parade route, I’m sure the good townsfolk saw little more than my head and shoulders—me driving shirtless on a summer day would be unremarkable. The consequence:  I was never able to talk my wife into getting naked in the car again. On sailboats…that’s a different set of stories.