Just how advisable is having sex outside?

Resident 'sexperts': Nirpal and Esther

10 April 2012

They are candid, provocative - and totally at odds with each other. Our resident 'sexperts'

Question:- My partner is mad keen on having sex outside. Just how advisable is this in London?

Nirpal says:

Many Londoners mistakenly think outdoor sex is strictly for the homeless or lusty homosexual cruisers and working-class doggers who stand around drinking Carlsberg and watching their peers copulate against a van parked behind their local Asda.

London is, in fact, the best city in the world in which to indulge in some al-fresco fornicating and there's no better time for it than in the summer.

Hampstead Heath and Clapham Common have long been the desired haunts of London's gay community and in these enlightened times they'll be happy to budge up and allow you and your partner some space, and no doubt give you some friendly advice on your technique and dress sense in the process.

Indeed, rumour has it that London's cottaging scene is now akin to an episode of Will & Grace, having surpassed the Aveda salon as the place where trendy women get the latest celebrity gossip as well as hints on moisturising and hair treatments.

But if you want your adventures to be a bit more private, London has a multitude of parks with fences that can be easily scaled, even by those wearing high heels and evening wear.

Hyde, Regent's and Battersea parks are all amenable after closing hours, while St James's Park has no fences at all.

If you want to do it in style, why not hire a pod on the London Eye? The 30-minute trip is long enough for a quickie and you can climax simultaneously at the apex as you both gaze across the sparkling lights of the metropolis.

Or get yourself on to the roof of any major skyscraper for a similar adventure — Bush House for instance, or at the tip of the phallus-shaped Gherkin.

Or how about hiring a boat? You can frolick on the deck, as you float along the river taking in the sights on the way.

CCTV makes secrecy difficult but there are ways around this. Try doing it while wearing wigs, false moustaches or snorkelling gear, or sporting parkas with the hoods up. If you're feeling really freaky you can wear all four at once.

Living in the city shouldn't obstruct the animal allure of outdoor sex. Take your sex outside and you'll realise that the concrete jungle is as wild as any other.

Esther says:

I can only assume that this "partner" we're talking about is a man. A woman might be "mad keen" on having great sex, or kinky sex, or a whole new kind of sex she never even dreamed of, but she isn't going to give a toss about where it happens.

It's quality, not backdrop. Intensity, not location. And anyway, women don't want to have sex outside because someone might see their bottom and think they are fat.

So your (male) partner wants to do it outside. Why? Is he homeless? Does he live on a park bench? There is very little less attractive than a man who can't afford his own bed.

There's nothing wrong with sex outside in itself but it's a thing you resort to when there's nowhere else to do it. The walls of your shared flat might be paper-thin, for example, and you're worried about upsetting a flatmate.

Or maybe your house is filled with sleeping children you don't want to scar for life (although for God's sake get childcare before rushing to the park with your pants round your ankles).

But purposefully seeking it out as a thrill is different — especially in the big city. Is he turned on by the idea of being caught? By whom? A hoodie with a knife? An elderly jogger? A guide dog?

Not my idea of life-changing sex. At least, not in a good way. (It's fine to be turned on by the idea of someone seeing you — as long as no one actually does.)

And anyway, will it live up to his expectations? With sex, as with anything (I'm thinking mostly of birthday parties), the more you plan it, the more effort you make with the fancy dress and the frilly decorations, the greater the potential for disappointment.

You might schlep all the way to Kew Gardens and find that the flowers are lovely but the sex is rubbish. Instead of blaming the whole silly idea, he might just blame the location. Next time, he might insist on doing it at the British Museum. Or on a bus.

My advice is to meet your frisky partner halfway. Leave the window wide open, perhaps, or tune your digital radio to the Birdsong channel and scatter a few leaves on the bed.