It’s British slang for:
The practice of watching or engaging in exhibitionist sexual activity in a public place, such as parks and car parks, and the people involved are often strangers. It’s thought that the term Dogging originated from dog walkers accidentally coming across people having sex in a public place, and then being invited to watch or join in.
And why do people do it? Because they can!
I hope that you enjoy the story.
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“That’s disgusting!”
She’d spat the words out, and now she was looking horrified. For most people that would have got their attention, but I just ignored her. Becky was always complaining about one thing or another. I’d heard the outrage in her voice, but what had got her angry would be something that was trivial. She should calm down, all that aggression wasn’t good for her blood pressure.
Then she came towards me, and after thrusting the newspaper under my nose, she said, “Read this.”
Apparently there was a shortage of tomatoes, so the price was going to go up. I was right, she was getting worked up over nothing.
“We don’t eat a lot of tomatoes.”
After shaking her head, she stabbed a finger into the newspaper, to indicate the article that I should have read.
The title of it was, ‘Dogging in Dingle Dell’.
I read it, and then I handed the newspaper back to her.
“What do you think about it?”
“We don’t eat a lot of tomatoes.”
That was my attempt at a joke, but it was a dismal failure. Not even a titter. She was now staring at me, stone-faced, waiting for a proper answer. I’d give her one, but I knew that it would be one that she wouldn’t be happy with. Regarding sex, I’m quite liberal, but she wasn’t.
“They are consenting adults. If they want to go Dogging, then as far as I’m concerned, it’s none of my business.”
The expression on her face was as if I’d just made a passionate speech for the return of slavery, or any other wicked act that she could think of. I needed to take the heat out of this. If I wasn’t careful then it would become an argument, and I’d be sleeping in the spare room tonight. I was eager for sex so that was the last thing that I wanted to happen.
“I’m not saying that I condone it, I’m just saying that if that’s what they want to do, then they can.”
“You do realize that Dingle Dell is only six miles away from us?”
I did, but Dogging wasn’t contagious. It wasn’t a disease that was spreading across the country. We weren’t going to wake up one morning and find our little town had been taken over by Doggers.
“It would be awful if we had it here.”
Now I’d have to agree with her on that. I was tolerant of it, but not in my back yard. Then I had a sudden thought, and it took all of my self-control to stop myself from laughing. If it did happen here, then our local newspaper would have to report it as, ‘Fucking in Frampton Forest’.
That night, I wasn’t sleeping in the spare room, but I might as well have been. My hand hadn’t even got to her breast before she was brushing it away, and with a force that was telling me that I should leave her alone.
“I’m not in the mood.”
That was disappointing, but not unexpected. And, as always, it was her one and only warning. If I was to try to do it again then I’d get more than just harsh words, I’d get a poke in my ribs from her elbow. You don’t want to mess with Becky, she fights dirty!
Half an hour later I was still awake. I wanted to sleep, but my rock-hard cock didn’t. If I didn’t fall asleep soon then I’d have to go to the bathroom and jerk off. That couldn’t be right. I was twenty five years old, in the prime of my life, and lying next to me was a gorgeous woman.
All my male friends were envious of me. Becky was at least a nine out of ten in terms of body and looks, and that was a score that none of their partners could match. However, from talking to them, they all seemed to have an active sex life that was keeping them satisfied. And Bill, who was married to a dumpy woman called Daisy, had even told me that his wife wanted sex almost every night.
“Chris, she’s killing me, but at least I’m going to die with a smile on my face.”
Yes, they were all envious of me, but they wouldn’t be if they knew all of the facts. And the main one was that Becky had a low sex drive.
I met her when I was twenty and she was eighteen. We hit it off straight away, and a year later we were married. Sex was good then, but if I’d taken time to think about it I’d have realized that there were warning signs, telling me what it was going to be like in the future.
“Not tonight, let’s wait until tomorrow.”
“I want to do it, but I’m tired.”
Now she just says no without any subtlety, and she also says it more often. Sex, if I’m lucky, is only once a week, and a two week wait for it isn’t unusual.
“No, is that all you think about?”
“I’m not in the mood, and I won’t be in the mood tomorrow.”
But I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I love Becky and she loves me. We both have professional jobs that pay very well so we have a good standard of living. There’s just one thing that I need that would make my life perfect, and that’s more sex.
Three weeks later, purely by chance, I found out how to get it!
It was late, almost ten o’clock in the evening, and I was driving home. It had been a long day, but a successful one. I’d acquired a new client for my budding law practice, one that would earn me a lot of money.
I’d driven along this road hundreds of times before, but somehow I managed to take a wrong turning, probably because I was tired. I only realized when the headlights illuminated a sign.
‘Dingle Dell welcomes careful drivers’
Did that mean that reckless drivers should fuck off?
As I stopped the car, so that I could turn around, I remembered that recent newspaper article.
I muttered under my breath, “And Dingle Dell also welcomes Doggers.”
That was funny, but because there was nobody with me to appreciate my humour, I had to do all the laughing.
I was ready to backtrack, to head towards the main road, but I suddenly changed my mind. I hadn’t intended to be here, but now that I was, I was going to take the opportunity to see what all the fuss was about.
The newspaper hadn’t said exactly where the Dogging site was, but they’d mentioned that it was in the woods and near to the river, so that gave me some indication of where it was.
After fifteen minutes of dead ends and wrong turns, I was about to give up when I came upon a narrow opening between some trees. I smiled when I saw all the tyre tracks in the mud, this must be the place.
It wasn’t a road, it was a dirt track, so I had to drive slowly. When I saw two parked cars ahead of me I stopped. I’d been curious, eager to come here, but what should I do now? There was nobody in the cars, so nothing to see. The sensible thing to do was to leave, to go home. But I got out of the car.
I could see a light in the distance, so I walked towards it. When I got nearer to it, I could see that it was coming from inside another parked car. And this time there was somebody in it. Then the headlights flashed, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. That brought me back to my senses. I should never have come here. Why had I been so stupid? I quickly turned around, and that’s when my blood ran cold. In front of me, blocking my way, was a man. Not just any man. A man-mountain.