The First Time I Had Sex in a Tent

It's time for another installation of Popcorn.dating's successful first-time series. This week, sex blogger and erotica author Jillian Boyd shares her first time experience of having sex in a tent. Find out if it lived up to the fantasy.

My boyfriend’s on top of me. He’s riding me, his strokes slower and more measured than usual. I’m lying in a tangle of sleeping bag. The only thing between my naked back and the ground, apart from canvas, is a thin wedge of camping mat. Somewhere nearby, a couple of chickens circle the field looking for food. 

This, it’s fair to say, is proving to be one rather weird fuck. 

You’ve probably heard of the concept of a bucket list; a list of things one wants to achieve in life before kicking the bucket. You may have also heard of the concept of a “fuck-et list”, which is basically a bucket list of fucking (and other sexy pursuits). Personally, I’ve never much put any thought into either, nor have I felt any need to. Hell, I’m spectacularly grateful for any new experience that comes my way, be it sexual or general. 

But there was one idea that, for the longest time, I couldn’t let go of. And if I did have a fuck-et list, this particular fantasy would have been right at the top. 

Sex in a tent. It was my boyfriend’s fault. As well as being a fellow sex writer, he's blessed with the outdoorsy camping gene. He knows his way around woodlands, most definitely. And the fantasy of fucking in a tent had come up in his blog posts and in casual conversation, more than a few times in fact. 

I loved the idea of it. Alfresco sex with a safety barrier – the saucy meets the sensible. I'd also resigned myself to the fact that, because I’m not exactly the outdoorsy type myself, an opportunity was highly unlikely to present itself. 

Until it did. 

How? Through an invite to a friend’s wedding weekend – the reception and evening party would be taking place on a campsite. Those who fancied it could pitch their tents and stay the night under canvas and stars. And, as it played out, we’d arrived to set up a day earlier than the rest of our fellow campers. 

We were alone on the campsite. All the way there, we’d been joking – “we’re going to do it, we’re actually going to do it” – because neither of us thought that we’d be able to. But apart from the bridal party, who’d be staying somewhere else, it was just us. 





I can’t speak for how he felt, but to me, it was strangely freeing to get to fulfil a long-held fantasy. It had begun to drizzle lightly, the rain against the tent canvas was the only thing piercing through the quiet. The tent itself wasn’t big, and I was lying naked on our only sleeping mat. There was squirming. Bumps and grinds were interfering with our bumping and grinding. 

But we were doing this. I was so, so wet and ready for him. We kissed, his fingers tracing steadily across my clit. My thighs shivered with lust, and my body was flush with heat and need. He sat up, working me further with his hands and making my hips buck against him. My back was aching. My neck was crying out for a pillow. But the rest of my body pushed back with hot, desperate waves of desire. 

It wasn’t easy getting him on top of me, in this small space, with not a lot of wiggle room. We managed, though. Our bodies so close together, the deliberately paced movements as sweat dripped off our backs and rain trickled and somewhere outside a goose honked evilly... it made it all the more intense. 

The world around us felt like it had melted away. The tent, the man and I – a microcosm of our pleasure in a field surrounded by chickens and geese and nature.  

It wasn’t perfect. And yet it also totally was. Sure, it was a cramped tent, and my back was killing me afterwards. Who cares though? It was us. We were hot for each other. I was dripping wet. We were having sex in a tent, and it was so us. We were making this long-held fantasy come true, and we were doing so together. That was all that mattered. Comfort be damned. 

I still have no desire to write myself a fuck-et list. Thinking about it, I wouldn’t have much to put on there, apart from “have a lot of sexy sex with my boyfriend”. Except maybe I would. Because, if I think about it further, there might be a couple more unusual places I’d like to have sex. Shower sex, perhaps? Or maybe a little sex on the beach? I don’t know. There are plenty of possibilities. 

One thing’s for sure, though - tent sex round two is definitely on the cards - just maybe in a bigger tent this time. And with fewer geese around. 



Jillian Boyd is a blogger, author of erotic short fiction and editor. Currently based in London, she's been blogging at Lady Laid Bare for six years now.  When she's not writing, she can most likely be found at her day job or in the dark of the cinema. Her stories have been published by the likes of Cleis Press, Ladylit and Sexy Little Pages.  Follow Jillian on Twitter .