Tonight, i decided to drive past a supposed well-used dogging spot up at Hanchurch Woods. It all started as i arrived at some traffic lights near a truck depo. Turn right to go home on the main road; go straight on and go home via Hanchurch...my crotch stirred and i travelled straight on. I've never done this sort of thing before and want to try it desperately so i thought i'd see if there was any action up there tonight. As i drove i undid my belt and flies, squeezing my shaft through my boxers then letting it loose from them. My cock stood straight out: it felt weird driving past other people; not that they would see my cock out but it felt semi-public. Anyway, i turned my headlights on as i drove down the single lane which wound up through the woods. It was pitch black and my heart was racing. I kept groping myself: concentrating on the road ahead but in the back of my mind thinking of what i could be doing in the bushes, or even out of my car. I was really throbbing. Around each corner, in every lay-by on the road, my heart raced at the thought of seeing a car pulled up there in the dark, with one or more figures outlined. Every turn that feeling rose, the feeling which my title owes itself to: that semi-dirty, nervous taboo feeling of what you COULD do, and what COULD happen to you. Sadly, there was no one there. Needless to say i was mortified. Upon reflection, i should have pulled into one of the woodland lay-bys and finished myself off, i was desperate for a seeing to. Although dissapointed, i write this story as an ode: to that feeling in your stomach, the feeling of expectancy, the feeling of nerves and lust and a feeling that cannot be simulated. I intend to get in my car tommorrow night, and drive through hanchurch again, to see if i'm any luckier. I'll probably get myself out again, and this time i might just pull over if i'm not lucky, but one things for sure...i'm looking forward to inevitable butterfly feeling again. There's nothing like it.