I admit that I haven't had sex on a beach, on the street, in an elevator, or in a stadium. I've forgone the romance of intercourse in the sand, in an alley, between floors, or under bleachers.

But I have had bondage in the woods. For my first knotty forest experience, I brought rope. Another time, I forgot the rope. Either way, I was a good scout.

The first time, I found a grassy area with small but sturdy trees. I strung out my erstwhile girlfriend limb-to-trunk. I used rope with English whipping. For the knots, I used Japanese lashing.

I wanted to do the natural, romantic thing. I wanted to have sex. But before I could make a wild connection, mosquitos arrived. They whined around my staked-out date until she was nearly batty. We had no choice but to leave the woods quickly.

Another time, another girlfriend and I went hiking. On that trip, I had no rope, so I had to use my shoelaces. I was very efficient. I used every inch. And when I was finished, I had laced her to a tree.

Once again, I wanted to have sex. But was it sex as defined by the dictionary? I admit that while we might have had strict sex, it was not sex in the strict sense.

After that, every time I saw a tree, I wanted to tie a woman to it. But I never succeeded, probably because sister deviants were hard to find.

So I moved on from outdoor bondage ... and into car bondage. Upholstery is more comfortable than leaves and loam, and built-in belts and straps beat shoestrings any day. I no longer need to find a tree trunk, just the keys to the car trunk.