QUICKIE IN THE PHONE BOX

(A retelling of a real life woman's anecdote told in answer to a newspaper feature, 'The Whackiest Places We've Had Sex'.)
 
It was in the days before phones went mobile,
I was 22 years old and quite nubile....
The glass steamed up and the phonebox was rocking
As my date and I made love inside. "Shocking!"
You may say, but it started innocently.
After a dance, I'd invited him for coffee.
So we called a taxi, been told "It's an hour
Before we get here!" (Bang went the shared shower!)
Because it was so cold in the night outside,
(The way I was dressed, of cold I would have died)
I thought we'd be warmer if box's space we did share.
His front pressed on my front, it got HOT in there!
I could feel, and he said, he was quite turned on
To the point that each other we'd jump upon,
Except that the box constrained us to stay upright,
No question us 'getting down' for the night!
Through our clothes the shapes of our bodies did touch,
His trousers brushed my bare legs, stirred up my crutch.
I could feel his own snake stir, hardened like a beam,
As we commenced enacting our passion's scheme.
While I held by one hand the phone to my face
To fool anyone might be passing this place,
With my other I eased my knickers down,
Helped by the right hand of my man about town,
Who switched his attention to my mini skirt
Which he lifted, while my hand fumbled his shirt.
He lifted me by my legs onto the shelf
In the corner, aligning my exposed self
As he tipped up my legs, pointy boots still on feet
So they were around his shoulders. Our breath's heat
Steamed up all the windows blocking view inside
To any passer-by, as on went the 'ride'.
He let down his trousers, then his underpants.
Manliness to the fore, he pressed his advance
Tentatively into my receptive core,
My gasping of welcome relief did it draw.
Backwards and forwards he thrust his middle part,
My feet in response nigh pushed the box apart,
So it felt to me, but boxes were sturdy.
Our breaths' moans in rhythm like hurdy-gurdy
I half forgot our fears that we might be sprung,
Receiver was off-hook so wouldn't be rung.
When the session was over and clothes back on,
The taxi we'd waited for had come - and gone!