Dogging! Woof!

I'd noticed that he didn't seem as excited to see me as he used to. To be exact, he's at least two centimetres less excited than he used to be.  I pointed it out, but he said it was because he'd just had a hot shower and things shrink in a hot wash. I know my Nan used to say this a lot. Maybe Gramps had the same problem.

Later he asked me if I'd ever been dogging. He looked at me a bit funny when I said I used to go with me Dad every Thursday night, but I explained that you could get a free bet, a pint of lager and a pie for a fiver. Which, in my mind, is pretty good value. Anyway, apparently dogging is where you go and have sex outside and other people watch and join in. I thought he'd heard about the time I went to 'Champagnes' club and was trying to catch me out, so I denied all knowledge. It wasn't really proper sex as it was only in for ten seconds before a policeman shouted at us and we went home.

   He said he'd watched a program about it  and thought it looked interesting so I said we could try it out. He said that because it's all meant to be top secret that we needed a mask. I wasn't going to spend my fag and booze money on new ones as I had two left over from Halloween. I let him have first choice and he chose the Bart Simpson one.