By C.K.*
Everyone has a “life list” filled with things to accomplish, places to visit — an assortment of things to do without ever intending to complete each item.
I have one of those lists — actually I have a number of those lists. I just never thought that an item would be sex with a fireman, much less did I think that I would check it off. My experience goes beyond that though — I overachieved a little bit.
So I added an addendum to the list: Have sex with a fireman, on a fire truck. Check.
I didn’t know that he was a fireman when we met. I didn’t know that we would date, long-distance, for a number of months. I definitely didn’t know that an innocent request for a ride in the fire truck would result in a brief yet fulfilling rendezvous on the driver’s seat.
We had been dating for a few months, visiting each other every other weekend since the two-hour drive didn’t warrant a state of constant togetherness. Needless to say, when we were together, much of the time was spent behind a locked door. On this visit, I encouraged a trip outside of the house; maybe a picnic, or a movie, or something outside of those four walls that would be considered an actual “date.”
There was an outing, but the “date” never occurred. I didn’t mind, and I still don’t.
Jerry* had mentioned before that if I wanted, he could arrange a drive around town in the fire truck. I never really took him seriously, but since we were trying to get out of the bedroom I said we should take that ride.
“Is a drive in the fire truck still an option?” I asked, trying to hide my enthusiasm at the idea.
“Sure, I know the guy in charge today, and he wouldn’t mind,” Jerry responded. Then he said that I could wear some of the gear, too, to “get the full experience.”
I agreed.
When we arrived at the station it was empty — everyone had left for a call. I grabbed a helmet and a jacket, both at least five sizes too large, and pretended that I was racing to call.
In the garage sat one of the trucks — surprisingly smaller than I had imagined. It seemed that it had recently been at a fire, as there was a smoky smell that filled my nostrils and ashes fell as I ran my fingers along the side of it.
As I began my love affair with this truck and what the truck represented, Jerry walked into the garage. He was in full uniform.
We never left the garage.
Now as glamorous as it may seem, and as enjoyable as it was, there are a few suggestions I’d like to make for those intending to add sex with a firefighter — in a firetruck — to a life list.
The uniform really is just for show and to fulfill the experience. It is not easy to remove. Honestly, it was almost impossible for me to pull off his jacket, let alone those overalls. So, let the firefighter in the relationship remove the uniform while the partner watches.
Other than that minor technical detail, the driver’s seat of a fire truck is fairly roomy and allows for a variety of different positions. It is necessary to know where the siren is, however, for obvious reasons.
The reason the experience was brief was due to an accidental bump of the button to turn on the siren. Yes, while having sex in a fire truck, I caused the siren to go off (in more ways than one). Unfortunately, sirens tend to attract attention. It only rang for a few seconds, but Jerry was still freaked that someone would come by.
“Who? Everyone went to the call. You think some random person that lives nearby will swing by the fire station because of a siren?” I questioned.
He was calmed slightly, but we still needed to move along — “just in case.”
Thus was the conclusion of my most exciting sexual accomplishment — so far. The helmet stayed on.
* Names have been changed.