Amusement Park Ride

It was a hot July day, the sun beating down as if this was the middle of the desert. I decided to use my season pass and go to the amusement park two towns over to cool off. Lakefront Park has its own beach, a water park and of course amusement park rides, games of skill and the holiday junk food you always find at such places. I tossed a towel, a blanket and a bottle of water into a canvas tote, climbed into my van and drove off.

I could tell from the lot full of cars that the park was going to be crowded. Lakefront is a favorite destination for families day-tripping and is popular for corporate outings, reunions and political rallies. I parked in the season pass-holders' lot and headed for the beach. I saw that the medium sized picnic area was reserved for a family gathering and the large one for a company picnic. Although Lakefront has snack bars and a buffet type restaurant, the management has never had a problem with visitors bringing their own food and charcoal and using the grilles the park provides to cook it. Being accommodating to their customers in areas like bringing their own food and such has a lot to do with why Lakefront is a going concern. The park has been around for more than a century, run by the same family and surviving when many other amusement parks have either been absorbed by chains like Six Flags or have gone out of business.

Showing my pass at the bathhouse and finding an open spot on the beach near the dock, I spread my blanket, stuffed my keys and sunglasses into the bag and got into the water. Threading my way through the bathers to water deep enough to swim in, I ducked under and came up blowing like a seal. Setting a slow stroke, I headed towards the diving float where a college-age lifeguard stood flirting with the teenage beach bunnies in their barely-there bikinis. I didn't climb on but simply floated for awhile, enjoying the cool water and watching the teens walk through the steps of the mating dance, remembering my own days as a lifeguard at this very park twenty years before. After awhile, I started back in, swimming parallel to the wooden dock the marked the west side of the swimming area. It was then I saw her.

She looked to be about 40, my own age, give or take a couple of years. She wasn't precisely a cougar, but she wasn't bad-looking. She had great legs, pretty feet, a nicely rounded ass and good boobs from what I could see beneath the crocheted net shirt and two piece bathing suit she was wearing. Loose skin in the belly, a souvenir of pregnancy, spoiled her lines somewhat. She had an oval face with a sharp nose and a pointed chin, and black hair with brown skin. A finely woven floppy straw hat with a colorful scarf for a hatband shaded her eyes and a digital camera dangled from one wrist. She snapped a couple of pictures of some kids in the water and caught me looking at her. She gave me a smile and a wiggle as if to say, "Like what you see?" and I smiled appreciatively with a respectful nod. I took my time walking past her, giving her a good visual inspection as I went. She pursed her lips in an air-kiss at me, not seeming to mind male admiration at all.

I lay in the sun for awhile, baking in the heat like a lizard on a rock before returning to the lake to wash the sweat off with another swim. She was still on the dock, dangling her feet in the water and chatting in Spanish with a pair of women a little older than she was. As I waded past, I gave her a sidelong glance. She returned it with a lascivious wink unseen by the two older women (cousins? sisters?) talking above her head. I responded with a smile and a raised eyebrow before breaking forward into a racing dive and heading for deep water. When I came back out, she was putting her camera into a shoulder bag, but paused to give me a speculative look and a smile before turning to follow her relatives, hips seesawing as she walked. Smiling to myself, I packed up my own bag and returned it to my van before heading into the park to enjoy a few of the rides.

The biggest draw at Lakefront is the Green Dragon. It's an old-time wooden coaster that ranks in the Top Twenty of America's traditional wooden roller coasters. Its design was inspired by Coney Island's famous Cyclone, but it's 30 feet higher and the track is a third again as long; and unlike the self-contained Cyclone it runs through part of the park over the heads of the amusement-seekers. It passes next to two or three of the other rides, and there's an arcade that makes use of the dead space under it. The line for the Green Dragon runs alongside the Lakefront Giant Carousel, one of the last in the country that still has a complete set of wooden carousel horses that were hand-carved by master woodcarvers in the 19th Century. My waterside mystery woman was on it.

She was waiting for the carousel to start up, sitting on one of the taller horses. She spotted me and smiled at me. I smiled back. She gave me an impish wink, and to my surprise and delight began to move on her motionless mount.

Her thighs clamped to the wooden horse, she arched her back and shimmied her shoulders, her full breasts wobbling in their swimsuit top beneath the crocheted shirt. Throwing back her head, she raised her butt up out of the saddle and pressed against the pole running up to the overhead cranks that move the horses up and down, humping it, working it like a stripper onstage with a wriggle that gave me an instant erection. A bell rang twice, warning the riders the carousel was about to start moving, and she blew me a kiss. As the line for the Dragon moved ahead I tried to spot her on each rotation, but couldn't be sure if she saw me.

I am fond of the Green Dragon. The old wooden coasters have a sense of panache and barely controlled danger induced by the shaking of the cars on the tracks that the newer steel coasters and newest suspension coasters just can't match. They may have higher drops and you may pull more gee's at the bottom of the drops and in the turns, but the wooden coasters make itseemlike more. I looked at the sky to the west as we climbed the first hill. The air was heavy, and that boded not well. Storm clouds were brewing over that way. I wondered how long the rain they promised would hold off and how long it might last when the storm broke. I forgot about the weather as we topped the hill and with a "Yeee-HAH!" went screaming down.

I got off at the end of the ride, simultaneously exhilarated by the adrenaline rush and disappointed that it was over so soon. I walked down the stairs, intending to get back in line and ride again, when the woman in the crocheted top and straw sun hat came up to me.

"I've been waiting for you," she said in a voice with a sensual purr in it. "I'd like to ride the roller coasters here, but it's no fun by yourself. Interested?" She slipped her arm through mine. I reached over to stroke her arm, enjoying the feel of her soft skin.

"Consider yourself escorted." We got in line for the Dragon.

We exchanged names (Richard and Paloma, respectively) and chatted while we waited for our turn. Paloma had driven up from Fort Lauderdale for her family reunion, as she did every couple of years. I'd seen a neatly lettered sign by the medium sized picnic area marked "Reserved for the Marielito Family," but of course had thought nothing of it. Her two kids were grown and out on their own. She owned a small swimwear shop across from the beach that earned her a nice living.

I in turn told her about the antique shop I'd inherited and ran with two assistants and a retired furniture maker who worked on commission restoring pieces I found at estate sales and auctions. Summer and fall are my busy seasons, but as I prefer the quest for wares to sitting in the shop, much of the time I was on the road. That the sales which had looked promising this week had been on Thursday and Friday, not Saturday, was what had left me with a free afternoon.

Our turn came and I turned to her. "Front or rear?"

"I like the rear better," she said, giving my arm a squeeze. When the gate opened, I hip-checked a teenage stud aside and beat him to the hindmost seat. I waved Paloma in and sat beside her. Without asking permission, I reached up and plucked the hat off her head. She looked a question and I pointed to a sign prominently displayed by the launcher's station: WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR LOST HATS, GLASSES OR OTHER POSSESSIONS.

"Oh." I used the scarf to tie up the brims over the crown and tucked it behind my calves. She tucked her arm in mine again and I laid my hand over hers on the safety bar, our fingers intertwining as the launcher pulled his lever and sent us on our way.

As we climbed the high hill, she snuggled closer and rubbed her leg against mine, looking at me. I smiled back and leaned in to kiss her as we went over the top and plunged down. She shrieked with delight, her black hair streaming in the windblast as we dropped, heedless of the dark clouds gradually closing from the west. We were thrown against each other again and again as we whipped around the turns, catching glimpses of other rides and flying over people on the ground that seemed close enough to touch as we rocketed along. Her eyes were bright as we eased to a stop back at the starting point.

"What other rides do they have here?" she asked. Arm in arm, we set out to try the other thrill rides Lakefront has to offer. She delighted in the Log Flume and the Whitewater Rafts in the waterpark and the Slide of Life that flies you on a pulley on a wire over the parking lot, and was laughing as we joined the line for the Squirrel Slalom.

The Squirrel Slalom is an 'inside' coaster, like Disney's Space Mountain. You don't get the steep drops the way you do on an outside coaster, but it uses centrifugal force more effectively than most open-air coasters. The Squirrel heightens the effect with darkness, sudden bursts of strobe light in curved tunnels with animatronic yetis, snarling wolves and the like to scare you, unexpected misting sprays and by the bottom, a fog-blaster that makes it seem like you're about to drop off a cliff - right before the brakes cut in and stop your car in the matter of a few feet before allowing you to trickle back into the launch station.

The cars are small, more like an open cockpit airplane than a roller coaster car. The first rider slides all the way to the back, the second sits between his legs, a safety bar comes down and a cover closes over the two of you and locks down before you're sent on your way. I got in first, and Paloma sat in front of me, tossing her hat by her feet. The lid came down with just enough room for our heads to protrude, and off we went into the dark unknown.

Paloma pressed back against me, her buttocks up against my groin. She felt for my hands and brought them around her, purring. I tightened my hold on her. She responded by lifting my hands to her boobs as we slowly climbed. I squeezed them through the openwork top and her swimsuit as she twisted her head around and whispered, "Kiss me." Our lips met, touching lightly. Hers opened beneath mine and her tongue tip brushed mine. She brought my hand under her crocheted shirt and into her suit top. I could feel the weight of her tit in my hand. The car came level and I broke the kiss.

"Hold on," I whispered.

We dropped and whipped into a right-hand turn as lights twinkled in front of our faces. We passed through a mist-curtain and swung back the other way as Paloma cried out. I involuntarily let go of her; she grabbed both hands and put them where she wanted them, one on her tits, the other on her crotch. There was a strange drumming in the air as we whistled down the run. We were tossed back and forth as the car raced down the course, tilting, rising, falling, and slamming through the turns. I heard Paloma moan as my hands tightened and loosened on her as we were flung about, the friction and pressure arousing her.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Good! Oh, yes!"

I could feel the bottom of her suit getting damp where the fabric covered her pudenda. She bucked back against me, feeling my erect tool against her but unable to reach it, locked in as we were. We went into a three turn spiral, the car up at a 30 degree angle, came out of it, and dropped what felt like straight down before being hit with an icy blast of water vapor, the car rising. In total blackness, we were thrown forward as the car abruptly decelerated. We came to a complete halt for about one second, then sedately slid into the station. To my surprise, the platform was deserted as we were helped out of the car.

"Where is everybody?" I asked. The attendant laughed.

"Can't you hear the rain?" He gestured toward the fiberglass shell that enclosed the ride. "It's pouring out there! Management shut all the rides down and we have to clear out. You two were the last car we launched. C'mon, we have to go." He shepherded us to the exit, where he reached for an umbrella that he kept there for just this kind of situation. He waited impatiently for us to leave.

I looked at Paloma and at the rain coming down like a waterfall. "Where are you and your family parked?"

"I'm in Area 4-D."

I shook my head. "Around here, we call 4-D 'Outer Mongolia' because you're about as far from the park entrance as you can get. Look, I'm in 1-B, the season pass-holders' area. How about if we run for that and shelter in my car?"

Paloma put on her hat, grabbed my hand and we ran out into the rain. Before we had gone 15 feet we were soaked to the skin. The rain was warm and not unpleasant, but it was so heavy I had trouble seeing where I was going. The lots had thinned out from what they had been when I parked. Lots of people had cut their afternoons short when the storm hit. My red extended minivan loomed ahead of us; I pressed the key already in my hand, popped the rear hatch, shoved Paloma inside and clambered in after her, yanking the hatch shut behind us. The rain beat on the roof like a rock drummer working his snare and the thunder boomed like his bass pedal, but we were out of the wet at least.

"Got a bar of soap? We could take a shower together," she laughed.

"I can offer you a towel," I said, extending my beach towel to her. She took it, stripped off her string shirt and started to vigorously dry her hair. I shucked out of my Hawaiian shirt and dried off with the beach blanket. Eventually we were more or less dry. Paloma glanced forward and took note of the curtain that ran across behind the front seats.

"That curtain makes things nice and private," she said.

"Uh-huh. When I'm on a buying trip and I have to stop somewhere, I don't need nosy people looking in and seeing there's something worth stealing inside. The tinted windows block the rear and the sides, but you can still see in through the front windows and the windshield. I rigged it today to keep the heat out."

She moved closer. "So no one can see inside now?"

"No."

"Good." She came to me, lips already parted, her eyes eager. I gathered her in and our lips met, hers opening wide under mine and sucking my tongue into her mouth as we shifted to find a comfortable position. Our hands roamed over each other's bodies, stroking, scratching and caressing as we encouraged the lust in each other. We ended up with her on top of me, rubbing her pubes on my erection as I squeezed her tits through the fabric of her swim top. She sat upright, reached between her boobs, undid a catch and tossed the top aside. I reached out and pulled the strings on her bikini bottom and drew it off her, sending it after the top. She reached down and worked my baggies over my buttocks and off my legs. They landed with a plop on the carpeting next to her suit.

"Much better," she purred. "Let's take our time, shall we?" She bent forward to kiss me deeply as my hands found the breasts hanging in front of me, the erect nipples ready to be teased. I squeezed her full mounds and pulled on her long, baby-suckled nips, pinching and twisting them as she moaned against my mouth, nibbling on my lower lip and whispering to me.

"Yes! Like that! Oh, that's good! Don't stop! That's good, lover! Oh, that's good!"

She was rubbing her clit up and down on my cock and I could feel the moisture starting to seep from her, wetting me and easing the friction. She moved up a bit, arching her back and I got my mouth on a tit, sucking and nibbling her nipple while I tormented her other breast sweetly. She moaned louder and humped her clit faster on me.

"You like that, baby?" I asked around a mouthful of tit-flesh.

"Yes! Don't stop! I'm close! Bite it! Hurt me! I'm gonna - gonna - gonna - CUM!"

Her arms locked rigid and she ground into my crotch as she shrieked the last word into a clap of thunder. I could feel her shuddering as the climax burned through her like the cymbal crash of the lightning bolt that momentarily illuminated the inside of the minivan. She began to slide up and down, rubbing on my cock again, revealing her continuing horniness. I decided it was time to introduce her to my thick seven-inch prick.

"Are you on the pill, baby?"

She leaned forward and kissed me hard as she masturbated herself on my fuckstick. "Don't need it, stud. After my second C-section, the doctor did a hysterectomy. Stop talking and fuck me! I want your beautiful dick, Dick! Open me up and fuck me!"

I grabbed her butt and moved her up a tad more. As she started to move back down I raised my hips and slipped my cock into her wet pussy, parting her cunt lips and shoving it deep inside her. She cried out with pleasure and by the third stroke Paloma's box was filled by my cock while I continued to torment her tits, pinching the nipples and twisting her mams as I used them for leverage.

"You're so big! I feel like you're splitting me in two! Oh god, this is good! Fill me up! Fuck my pussy good, Dick! Fuck me! Fuck me! Don't stop! Ohhhhhh!"

She corkscrewed down as I thrust upward, ramming together as fast as we could. She came again, her hair and eyes wild, bracing herself on my chest as her cunt clamped down and spasmed around the cock driving into her. I didn't stop, keeping up the beat as she surrendered to the ecstasy induced by my prick in her twat. She rose and fell on it, twisting, squeezing, wriggling, seeking more sensation as I fucked her, our minds retreating until nothing mattered but the slippery friction of our bodies melding together. Paloma thrashed and moaned on me, her cunt impaled like a butterfly pinned to a card by my invading male flesh. She immersed herself in the power we shared as I manipulated her willing body, denying me nothing. I could feel my own climax building, the pressure like liquid rock as we rose and fell together. At last I could hold back no longer.

"ARRRGGGH!Oh,yeah!"

Grabbing her by the hips, I forced her down as I thrust up into her. Our pubic bones met and as if that was the trigger, the red-hot magma of my climax erupted into her waiting pussy. Seconds felt like minutes as my penis jerked inside her, my cum shooting up like molten lava at the mouth of a volcano. Her answering shriek told me she had made it too, a very satisfying sound indeed.

As passion subsided, Paloma slipped off of me to lie on the floor of the van beside me, gasping as out heart rates slowed and the world sped back up again. I looked into her dark eyes, soft with satiation.

"Thank you, my stud. I needed that, and I think you did too." She kissed me softly. "Listen. I'm staying at the Twin Pines Motel, about ten minutes from here. Room 31. You know it?"

"I know where it is," I said.

"Meet me there in, say, an hour. I want to pick up where we left off, Dick. I want you inside me again, but in a bed where I can treat you right."

"Don't your relatives expect you for dinner or something?" I asked.

She chuckled as she tied her bikini bottom. "The whole reason I take a motel when I come to these family reunions is all that family togetherness drives me nuts after awhile. The happiest day of my life was the day I moved out of the house into a place of my own, where I didn't have to share the bathroom with five sisters and had a bedroom all to myself." She slipped into her top and tossed me my trunks. "C'mon, lover. Drive me over to Outer Mongolia and my car. I'll be waiting for you.Eagerly waiting for you." I smiled and put my trunks back on.