The 10 Worst Places to Have Sex

The thing about sex is that, in the zesty spirit of the moment, you're going to do it. Regardless of where you are, some boning will be had if both parties have the inclination. However, that does not mean that the place where the two of you screw will be as perfect as the moment when lips lock and groins connect.

Here are the 10 Worst Places to Have Sex.

Old people collect weird smells. Old peoples' houses, even weirder smells. The smell of ointments, cabbage, and loneliness—not exactly the holy trinity of aphrodisiacs.

Grandma's banging on the door while you're knocking boots on the comforter she knit during the Great Depression (the historical event, not the average elderly existence). “He's having a stroke,” she says. Your grandfather has been dead for five years. If dementia doesn't kill the mood, what does?

Maybe it folds up on you, maybe it doesn't. The real concern is whether that's a stain from last night's ravioli or…?

No one should have sex on a futon after college. No one should sex on a futon during college. It's just sad. Nothing suggests the downward trajectory of your life better than your rickety futon. I mean, by now the clothes are off like candy wrappers so this is going to happen, but in that instant before uglies bump, you'll both be staring at this monstrosity in the middle of your living room like the abyss that it is. And the abyss is gazing also. Make it a quick, then forget that you two ever swapped spit.

From the heat of the moment to the heat pulling up in the black and white with the red and blues flashing. They're cuffing you, thinking you're the john and your girl is a prostitute.

Hope you have that lawyer on retainer. Also, the woman that's arrested on prostitution charges shortly after vacating the end of your prick is never going to sleep with you again. Some things you can't come back from. And all because you two got excited by the danger of a garbage-filled pile of hot rats.

Left foot stomping an old nacho. Right foot planted on the lip of the stained toilet seat. This how we always dreamed it would be. Just you, her, and a hundred amped-up drunk dudes. The smell of shit is wafting through the tiled hell, but thankfully that's distracting the horde from your lovemaking; they're pounding on the shitter's door, begging to take a piss. Then a roar goes up as something magical happens on the field outside.

There'll be a lot of high fiving, but none of those cheers are for you.

(In actuality, there probably won't be high fiving. You'll just have a bathroom full of dudes with cellphones, filming you. Like what happened to this couple [Link is NSFW]).

This might seem like the ultimate "fuck you" to her old man, but think about it a little harder.

Dude already hates you. How much is he gonna hate you when that sex smell hits his nostrils on the drive to work?

He thought the steering wheel felt a little sticky. And what the hell is that lodged in the CD player?

And all so that you could have sex in one of the most uncomfortable spots on the planet. That cold seatbelt buckle digging into your ass really did the trick, huh?

By the light of the lava lamps, you laid her down between the waves.

That's just fucking weird. Not to mention uncomfortable. Like the beach, this is one of those romanticized places that, in theory, doesn't help anyone get their rocks off. And there are all the awful squelching noises. Sure, sex is comedy, but this is sinking to a new low. Stick to a regular mattress. Like a regular person.

When Jon volunteered at the retirement home, he thought he'd sing a few songs, make a shitty wind chime with a bunch of sleeping, blue-haired ladies, and then be on his way, straight to an Ivy-league school that would appreciate his go-getter nature and kind heart.

He never thought he'd end up balls deep in Phyllis while her roommate Dolores foxtrotted around the room. It's hard to remember what happened. She might've slipped him something strong from her comprehensive medicine cabinet. Who knew they were stocking these women with roofies? And why did she foxtrot the whole time? He can still hear her pumps digging into the shag carpet while he slapped against sagginess.

Take Jon's story to heart—don't volunteer.

Risky business. It might be hard to pull this off without Phil Collins setting the mood. It might be hard to pull this off without getting the clap from the plastic seats. It might be hard to pull this off without having to toss a couple coins to the bum-driven shopping cart that rolls past.

Cruise picks up the ogling bum and puts him on the platform courtesy of the magic of the movies. If you try to do that, you'll get bitten. Then you'll need an HIV test.

And don't forget: all mariachi bands like to watch.

A tent city is no place to get down, despite what the Smarties-colored drugs you just dissolved on your tongue are insisting. Just last night you watched an odd coordination of limbs flail about and you shivered in the cold desert air, queasy. You don't want to do this, man. There will be sand everywhere. Unless you're trading sex for food or water, keep it in your pants.

The classic. We guess it isn't necessarily a bad place to have sex. It's more of a bad place to be had sex with. We feel so used.