Had a time some weekends ago; went to Seattle with George, stayed in a hostel just across from Pike Place Market. We registered late, ended up in bunks; There was a nice double bed in the bunk next to ours with NO ONE IN IT. So, we switched. Of course owners of said bunk showed up, saw us there, turned around and got management. we skedaddled into correct bunk(s) and pretended to be asleep. I was in the cool treehouse top bunk; lonely though,all by meself.
They apparently believed us to be asleep, (or hoped we weren't) because, ahem, after I fell asleep and woke up (had to go to potty desperately -- beer in Seattle as good as beer inPortland) I heard this unmistakable moaning (after what I thought to be a rather excessive amount of zipper sounds--thought they had zipped themselves into some sort of large sleeping bag with Michael Jackson style zippers.) Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. I peeked. No sleeping bag; no sheet even. Just rather a lot of arms, legs and a rather nice ass--there are missionaries, and then there is that similar position. I was mortified/embarrassed and had to get off my bunk--bladder bursting. So I tossed from side to side, rattled my jewelry in hopes that they would notice, stop, use a sheet, or something. No such luck. So I gingerly climbed down off the top bunk and left. Had a difficult time re-entering room, but decided that I couldn't leave George in there alone. Decided he was either a) asleep, b) mortified, or c) enjoying himself. So, went back in, they were still at it, crawled into bottom bunk (not about to face people having sex (that weren't me) alone. Thought of waking George up, actually poked him, but decided coudn't decide if I was more horrified by what was happening, or by how badly lit it was. Fell asleep(!). We escaped the next morning before they got up.