Tunnel of Love

I've set myself a writing challenge here, to capture an entire, erotic vignette in the minimum 750 words allowed by literotica. It follows stories in the same format, called "Ferris Wheel" and "Fun House", but hopefully can stand on its own. If you want a fully developed story this will not be for you, so please don't rate it low simply because of its length; the shortness of these stories is the whole point. Remember, the brain is the biggest sex organ! I hope you will let these short stories serve as a starting point for your own imagination.

I haven't yet written any of the next part of the story—what do you think should happen next? Please tell me where you go with them in the comments section.

*****

After erotic interludes at the county fair's Ferris wheel and Fun House, Micah and I entered Ye Old Mill, where a paddle wheel's current pushed swan-shaped boats through dark, intricately twisted channels.

As with other rides that night, this one had no line; the county fair was near the end of its annual appearance. The operator perked up when we approached.

"Here, I thought I'd already had tonight's last customers. Climb right on in, young lady," he said, lifting up the swan's wing/door.

Micah slid into the seat, her back to the platform. I handed over our tickets, and $5, motioning toward the paddle wheel control with a twist of my hand, indicating that I wanted it slower. He winked, pocketing the money and doing as I'd asked.

"Have fun, you two!"

I put my arm around Micah's shoulders as we drifted into darkness, reveling in her clean, feminine scent and the softness of her skin. Neither of us knew what to expect from the ride itself. I thought of it as the "Tunnel of Love" because everyone called it that, but saw quickly that it was "Ye Old Mill" when the first animated diorama showed a happy family grinding flour. We both paused our kissing to say "What?..." before we plunged into darkness again.

In the dim light, I saw Micah's dark hair and substantial, but not overwhelming, breasts outlined by a beautiful silk shirt. Her sharp blue eyes and porcelain skin tone were hidden in this light, but were burned into my memory. Life was good.

I honestly don't remember the next dioramas, as I loosened several buttons of her shirt, and she responded to my kisses on her neck. I was emboldened when she let me fold one cup of her bra underneath the breast it protected. I leaned in for my first taste of a girl's nipple, thrilling at its immediate rise under my tongue, the arch of her back, and the indrawn breath that accompanied it.

Not sure how it had gotten there, I realized that her hand was inside my unbuckled pants, which were hanging open at the top.

"Lift up for a second," she said, her hands in the waistband of my underwear, "I want to try something."

The light came up as we approached another diorama, and she saw me looking longingly at the single breast exposed to me. She blushed, before folding the other cup down so I could now see both breasts. I would have thrown myself into a fire for her at that moment; I did as she'd asked, lifting my hips from the seat.

She pulled both my pants and underwear down to my mid-thighs, leaving me even more exposed than I'd been earlier on the Ferris wheel, more exposed to a woman than I'd been in my life. I was nervous in several different ways at once, but also so sexually excited that I would have exploded at once if not for the earlier release she'd given me.

"Promise you'll still call me, after what we've done tonight," she asked, "and you won't tell your friends?"

I nodded dumbly, certain that I would do whatever she asked, to keep this night on its current trajectory.

She searched my eyes for truth, before saying "Here goes nothing..." and lowering her head to my lap.

Call me a dumb country kid (it's true), but I just didn't know that the mouth could be used in sex. I entered Nirvana—swear to god—when her lips closed around my shaft. I've had blowjobs since then, obviously, but the novelty and unexpectedness of those sensations made this a time-machine sort of moment: if science ever discovers one, I'll use it to re-live the joy, the lust, the amazement of that moment.

I wish I could say I lasted a long time and that she had perfect technique, but I didn't, and she didn't, and it absolutely did not matter. My horizons expanded significantly as she moved her mouth along my length, her hand fumbling along my shaft and around my pouch. She must have been forewarned somehow of what to expect, because when my seed rocketed out of me, she was only partially taken by surprise. A fraction fell from her lips, before she smiled, swallowed again, and reached to kiss me.

I recoiled at the thought, and panicked as we saw the end of the ride ahead. Her hurt look at my unwillingness to kiss her still haunts me today.