Sex is great, but the risks it carries—STDs, babies, unhealthy relationships—are many. But then, anything worth doing involves risk. As Anaïs Nin, author of Delta of Venus, wrote, "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."
One of the less discussed dangers in the minefield between the sheets is the ever-present possibility that someone might walk in on you while you're doing it. If you've been sexually active for long enough, chances are this has happened to you at least once. Maybe it was your college roommate coming home unexpectedly to grab a book only to find you facedown and ass up. Or perhaps your sweet ole mom stopped by to serve up a batch of freshly baked cookies and embarrassingly discovered your mouth was already full of something unspeakable. Whatever the circumstance, being walked in on while doing the deed can seem impossibly traumatic in the moment, but is usually good for a laugh or two after some time passes. That in mind, we asked some folks who have had their coitus interruptus-ed by a third party to tell us their dirty, funny tales.
Cal, 23
It was my first semester freshman year of college. My girlfriend was still a senior in high school, and she'd visit every weekend. My roommate James was not subtle about his disdain for her and the rate at which she would visit our small, closet-like dorm room. Unsurprisingly, like most 18-year-olds in love, we would rush to have really dirty and experimental sex the moment he'd leave the room. Didn't matter if it was a trip to the dining hall or a bathroom visit; we were gonna try to take advantage of our time together. So one day she's visiting, and James leaves for a while. Within a very short amount of time, my girlfriend and I find ourselves both standing up in the middle of the room, zero clothing, lights on, doing the sex. I was most likely trying to reenact a move I saw Ron Jeremy do, my mind a vessel of filth. And just like that, unannounced, I hear the door being unlocked and opened. I see Jake's white Air Jordans creeping into sight.
James and I make direct eye contact, but I can't stop the filth. I take multiple pumps while he's in the room, our deviancy well-lit. He closed the door faster and with more force than I thought possible. My girlfriend and I were shaken, filled with shame, and surprisingly still horny as hell. So we finished and put all our clothes on. I called James five minutes later and told him he could come back to the room. When he did, my girlfriend and I were both sitting Indian-style on my bed watching Pawn Stars, red faced. My girlfriend couldn't help but laugh. I was somewhere between psyched and embarrassed. It was never discussed again. My old roommate is still a good friend to this day. Hey, James!
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Lily, 27
One time I was trying to use the condoms that high school health gave out but they were real small, so they wouldn't fit on my boyfriend's dick. We were just laughing and breaking them and throwing them everywhere, still naked. Then his mom did the knock-once-and-enter thing. We threw one item of clothing on, and when she walked in, we were just sitting on his bed staring at a turned-off TV with broken condoms and condom wrappers everywhere.
A different time that same boyfriend's mom walked in on me giving him head. He went down to cover my body with his own. I went up instinctually, and we hit heads really hard. I fell on the ground, and he got his pants halfway up. So we were caught again.
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Alex, 23
I never used locks for my room in college. This one time, I was having sex in a position where I was facing the door, but the girl was not. We were on one of those shitty wooden dorm bed frames that slammed into the wall and dresser if you made the slightest movement, so in the midst of passionate lovemaking, I guess I didn't hear my roommate knocking. I saw the door creak fully open, and there's my buddy just standing there flustered, looking me dead in the eye. "Yes?" I said, not stopping. "Nothing," he said, then slowly backed out and closed the door.
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Jerome, 25
I was 16 and was receiving my first blowjob on a couch in my basement. We had this huge projector screen with surround sound, and Gladiator was on TV—so I pumped up the volume really loud and was getting real into the experience because it's an amazing fucking movie and my hormones were insane. Watching dudes get impaled by tridents and shit apparently added to my sexual excitement.
Next thing I know, because I'm preoccupied with Russell Crowe, my mom is at the end of the couch yelling above the movie that I have soccer practice in the morning. It was the quickest I have ever reacted to a situation in my life. Immediately, I popped my girlfriend up from under the blanket and put her in a bear hug ... because I thought making it look like we were wrestling would make most sense? All I said was "OK," and that was the end of the conversation. To this day, I don't know if I was caught, or if it just looked like I was acting out a scene from Gladiator.
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Sally, 23
This is a terrible memory. I was in my boyfriend's childhood bedroom giving him head. We were in a very compromising position, both fully naked with me lying on the bed, and him standing by the edge. We had not locked the door. His mom walked in without knocking and came face-to-face with her oldest son's dick in my mouth. She was British, so she screamed out a very proper, "Oh my God!," making me feel like the biggest piece of American trash ever to set foot in her home. She immediately shut the door and started yelling from the other side how sorry she was, which only made it worse. Mortified, we quickly threw our clothes on and ran down the stairs where she made even more desperate, English apologies. We probably muttered something in response, but I just remember avoiding eye contact and running to his car where we did not speak for a long time except to groan, laugh, and then groan again. We dated for another two years after that experience. Eventually I regained the ability to look his mom in the eye, but never fully forgot the sound of her Anglo-shrieks.
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Ryan, 32
I was making love... to myself. I was a teenager who'd just discovered this was a thing, and so I did it so frequently it was only a matter of time before someone walked in on it. That someone turned out to be my mom. Thankfully, the lights were out, and so I was only visible from the light coming in from the hallway after she'd opened the door. I quickly turned on my side away from the door and pulled up the covers. "What are you doing?" she asked. I didn't answer. I was too mortified. She asked again, and when I answered "trying to sleep," my voice must've cracked because my mom's next move was to walk into the room, sit on the side of my bed, and touch my shoulder gently. I nearly died right there.
"Ryan, what's the matter?" she asked, sounding concerned.
I'm not even sure I answered her; I was too frozen with fear. It was a Sunday, and we'd just received news at church that morning that our longtime priest, Father Adams, had lost his bout with cancer the day before. "Are you upset about Father Adams?" she asked. I said I was, and she patted me on the arm, and told me if I had any questions about it or needed to talk, she'd be there for me. I thanked her, mostly for unknowingly giving me an out. She left, and I went right back to crankin'.
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