Another sun-drenched day, but now the late afternoon sun's turning fiery red as it sinks in the sky. Sticky, humid, my skin feels hot, grimy under my fingertips. Looking down at my bare arms in the last orange light of the setting sun, I'm amazed by how brown I've turned since the beginning of the week. The blended aroma of hot-dogs, candyfloss and the acrid electrical tang of the rides bathe me in weary contentment. Fifties' rock'n'roll blares. "Dook ... dook ... dook of Earl. Da-da da da-da..."I need a shower, I'm starving, but first I've got to find her. Stupid Minah! how ken you get lost at this time of the evening? I stroll slowly along the main path of the funfair staring into each knot of people, expecting at any moment to see her gawking round some ride or other, her wings of raven hair dangling. While I'm busy scanning the far corners of the park for her, a small boy smacks into me covering my sarung with candyfloss. Distracted, scrubbing at the sticky smear, the tissue falls apart, shreds sticking to the material. Disgusted, I swear and look up...
He's tall, about six feet, lean and wiry, with well-defined muscles rather than muscle-bound. Good features, but a little rugged and short dirty-blonde hair with a slight curl at the back of his neck. He's wearing cutoffs and a Levi shirt. "Nice legs." I think to myself. He's staring, a small smile on his lips. Despite myself I smile back, turning away with a fleeting notion that he's still watching me. I twist my hips slightly with each step, letting the sarung flow and undulate...
My cell-phone purrs and I head for the entrance to Peter Pan's Playground; flicking the phone open as the noise of the amusements recedes behind me. I know it's her. "Uy ... mula." She tells me happily, and without a twinge of conscience, that she's in a nightclub called Tots with some people we met earlier. "Come on, don say me wan...?"
"No Fuck off gagu!" I tell her, knowing that she's probably going to get drunk and throw up in the car again.
Piqued and with a couple of hours to kill, I wander out of the park, along the Golden Mile towards Satteri's Fishbar. Soon, clutching my fake newspaper full of hot crispy scampi and feeling a little lost, I'm threading my way through the crowds of meandering day-trippers. Coloured lights blink and fluorescent tubes flicker in time to a babble of electronic and human dissonance. An engine rumbles and spits close behind me. I turn to watch a peppermint green Escort cruise slowly by. Loud, low slung, with huge arches and gleaming wheels; it oozes menace ... A blast of Wilko Johnston from the stereo turns the heads that didn't turn at the first crackle of its engine. I kinda like Dr. Feelgood ... It's East London Macho: the soundtrack to Flash 'Arry's dreams of sun, speed and sex.
Another old Ford, a gleaming yellow Mexico, swings out of a side street and streaks past with a shattering six-cylindered roar. I can't help grinning 'coz I learned to drive in one just like that. - Yeah! Been there, done that... Suddenly, I'm giggling out loud. Remembering my guy and his mates. "...Girls come'n go; a sharp car goes on fer eva..." If the Escort wasn't a quarter of a mile down the road now, I'd be yelling, "Uy... 'Arry big button!" when what I really mean is, "Gerek-lah lu."...Okey, I'm a car-slag.
Passing Peter Pan's, still bubbling with barely suppressed delight, I see the guy again, sitting on a bench outside drinking Coke. Lean, boyish, though he must be thirty-something... I think I like yalah. He catches me looking and pauses, can halfway to his lips. From twenty feet away our eyes meet and my insides squirm in an agonizing blend of fear and anticipation. My heart beats a fraction faster, a little dart of excitement courses through my veins. Before I can stop myself, I'm walking into the fairground right past him and I'm swinging my hips ... "What are you doing?" The small sensible part of my brain inquires, but my body quivers in anticipation of a little adventure.
Clutching a sheet of tickets, I join the queue for the rollercoaster, sipping still cold Fanta, glancing around. I know he's out there somewhere but it's not easy to pick out one denim-clad man in a crowd of hundreds. Shuffling towards the wooden steps, as I gulp the last of my drink, I spy him towards the back of the queue. "'Tang 'na!" A little shudder of desire tweaks me down there. I squeeze myself against the rail and let two families push past me, filling a whole car. I'm three or four from the front; near the top of the steps when the attendant closes the gate and the cars whir and rattle past. He's now only ten or twelve feet and twenty people behind me.
Watching the cars crawl slowly upwards, almost fading into the dusk before plunging down the far side of the track, I imagine the fright and physical disorientation; the need to cling and burrow into the arms of someone strong and friendly. A barrage of shrieks and screams from the occupants of the cars rises above the thundering roar of the wheels as they plummet down the far side. Then as the cars vanish from sight for a few seconds before looping back though the last few bends and humps, I turn and there he is; a few feet away, head to one side looking in my direction. I let my eyes glide over his body and face, brazen with the tingling thrill of my imaginings. He smiles and our eyes meet; his are soft, brown and unblinking. I feel the damp sheen of perspiration rise on my palms a second or so before the first gentle wave of arousal tweaks my nipples and tugs at my insides.
I slouch on the still warm vinyl of the seat, my heart thumping as I watch him cross the boardwalk. I'm terrified that he'll sit somewhere else. Fighting the urge to put my hand up to my face and touch my nose, an awful habit, I smile radiantly, catching his eyes as he begins to lower himself onto the seat beside me. I let my gaze linger. He's bigger than I'd realised and tanned tawny-brown. He gives me a little nod and says quietly, casually; "I hope you don't mind?"
Wow Cubao! An American here? I reach across him holding out the six tickets before he's begun to tear his own from the sheet, then ignoring him, retreat to the furthermost corner of the tiny seat. The ride attendant pulls the safety bar down forcing me to sit straight, my shoulder and thigh so tantalizingly, terrifyingly close to his, I dare not breathe.
As the cars lurch and groan into motion I wedge one grubby, tangerine coloured trainer against the body of the car, bracing myself against the jolting and bumping. The first banked turn throws me against him; a momentary feeling of warmth and solidity before the tilting track pulls us apart and presses us down in our seats again. The climb is slow. I look down at the teeming crowds of people in the fairground below; the strings of coloured lights and strobing florescent bars of warm pink, violet, golden yellow and garish green. As the car crawls the last few feet to the top, I surrender to the throbbing lethargy, enjoying the moist tingling in my belly, pulse twitching at my wrists. His left arm is in his lap; the other stretched out holding the side of the car. He turns and we share a long sloe-eyed glance, embarrassing in its intensity, before I touch his arm, slipping under it, snuggling into his warmth an instant before the car topples.
"Aieeeeeeeee!" .... Free-fall, wet and dizzy... insides twisting and churning. I scream my lungs out, clinging to him; senses filled with the scent of his skin, with the soft noise of his breathing and the fast beat of his heart through the thin warm cotton of his shirt. He rests his hand on my head, pressing lightly as we rise over the next twisting section. My own hand and eyes on his thighs, hypnotised by the bulge in his shorts. The track twists and turns throwing us in all directions as I snuggle against him, my fingers itching to explore. His arms hold me lightly against him as the car slows to a halt. He clambers out; all tanned knees and elbows like a giant spider. His hands close around my waist, lifting me from the car like a child. Standing beside me, the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, he introduces himself. The lie comes easily. "I'm Jeanie, like in magic lamp." I say, in my best Ingrish accent. He nods uncertainly as I take his hand and lead him across the short distance to the 'Whiplash' ride. As soon as the motion starts I curve my body against his, clinging, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, lips brushing his, opening to taste his probing tongue. The eccentric motion of the ride and the closeness of him combine in a dizzy whirl of pleasure that flickers over my pearl like a hot mouth. His hand on my breast feels just right. I press my own hand over the back of his, moulding it tight, crushing myself against him, gasping as the ride ends.
"We go here." I point to the queue for the Ferris wheel. We stand arms around each other's waists. My heart beats quicker; blood surges faster and faster through my veins, a hot torrent, making my desire a hot throbbing compulsion I want to feel his mouth on mine again. He talks as we shuffle forwards. I nod and look interested though I'm thinking other thoughts while the wheel fills, one car at a time. It's almost full when I step into the gently swaying gondola. Twitching with excitement as he clambers in behind me, I take his hand in mine, nuzzling the warm, fragrant skin of his forearm. As the door closes and the cage rises out of view of those below, we kiss.
My arms around his neck, slick and tender with desire, I pull myself onto his lap feeling the hardness of his erection against my thigh. His lips are moist and warm. His tongue slips and twines around my own, I feel the familiar warm tingling deep inside. The sensual haze sending urgent shivers through me from throat to inner thighs. The gondola jerks and sways again, as my fingers tug at his shorts. His rising cock pushes the worn zip open as soon as I release the fastener at his waist, filling my hand with hot throbbing stiffness. My fingertips trace the velvet contours of it as I loosen the buttons of my choli, letting him see my breasts with their little brown buttons of desire aching to be touched.
As the Ferris wheel starts his hand curls around a smooth silky curve and I kiss him again. Teeth closing, nipping on the soft skin of his lips then soothing them with a slow swipe of my tongue. His fingers and thumbs fold around my swollen teats, rolling, twisting them, and sending a huge bolt of tingling lust straight through the center of me. As I slip onto the hard wooden seat beside him I feel the heat and moisture between my thighs spreading. He lifts his bum as I tug the shorts lower, my head against his chest feeling it rise and fall rapidly as I stroke and squeeze. Adjusting my grip on his straining cock, I squirm against him, whispering.
"Take me to the beach and fuck me... I want your big stiff cock inside me. You *do* wanna fuck me?"
His cock jumps. I feel the energy pulse as if he was already inside me. My hand blurs in a frenzy of smooth rhythmic motion. His grasp on my breast tightens and his hips move in time with the short hard strokes of my fingers. Through the electric confusion of my excitement I wonder if I'm going to have time to make him come before the ride's over. I pile it on...
"Come in my mouth Jake. Let me taste it. I'm going to swallow."
I feel the cool sheen of sweat rise on his hot skin and the trembling of his muscles as he nears the final few seconds. His fingers dig hard into my breasts as he shudders, arching his back. I lower my head and moisten my lips, letting the spit drop onto the bloated purple-red knob of his cock. The gondola rocks violently as I slip of the bench to kneel between his knees. His fingers slide through my hair gripping handfuls of it as my outstretched tongue glides over the silken flare of his knob. The hot salty tang of his unfamiliar cock, the essence of its scent and flavour, oozes into my consciousness as the thickness of it pushes into my mouth. Both hands on the veined shaft, I stroke hard downward and let the tumescent thickness glide back through the fluttering circles of my fingers. My tongue swirls and flickers, my head bobbing forward to engulf a mouthful of hot throbbing cock every third or fourth thrust. He moans; his hands tighten in my hair as I grip him hard just beneath the rim of the helmet; pulling the loose skin tightly downwards. I rub my palm in a tight-frenzied circle across the sensitive tip of his knob. He squirms and jerks; an ecstatic groan explodes from his lips as a few firm strokes of my deft fingers pump the first torrent of jism out of him. My mouth full with piquant flavour, I bob forward, letting him thrust into my throat until I begin to gag. As the last surge of his orgasm fades away, I look up at him eyes wide, a little girl with a lolly. The Ferris wheel stops, leaving us suspended at the very top and he inhales deeply, smiling down at me.
We're still entwined kissing passionately a few minutes later as the attendant opens the door of the cage. I give him a cheerful grin, my mouth still greasy with my love's exquisite juices...
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