The Happiest Place on Earth Ch. 01

How the fuck did I get myself into this situation?

As easy as it is to ask myself this, I already know the answer: Vanessa. The answer always is and always will be Vanessa. She's the craziest and best thing to ever happen to me, but today it's undeniably to the crazy side. Best too, maybe.

If I had been told six months ago that, in time, I would find myself dating the hottest girl this side of the Mississippi, I would have laughed my ass off. I was raised...well, I was raised a nerd. My parents were trekkies, my older brother didn't leave the confines of his bedroom for weeks if a new video game had just been released, and my twin sister currently plays the part of Magenta in the local Rocky Horror Picture Show theatre troupe.

I, personally, do none of these, but I keep a total of six bookshelves in my room (half of which are filled with books I steal from the local and high school library, one of the few acts of illegality I've ever found appealing besides the occasional hit from a joint) and buy Costco caseloads of generic energy drinks to keep myself up in the wee hours of the night to write. I get a haircut every six months if I can get away with it.

Also, as you'll realize soon, I am a Disney culture junkie. Perhaps that makes me a disgrace to the name of the skinny, pale writer type, but if my unconventional upbringing taught me anything, it's that nobody actually gives a shit about stereotypes once you really get down to it.

Vanessa? She reads, yes, and I suspect that she writes, though I've never been allowed to see any of her work. But, as I said, she's incredibly hot. I can't even put it any other way; it's kind of just that sort of elephant in the room. The girl is nearly a foot shorter than me, she has this crazy mass of red hair, electric blue eyes, and freckles.

Freckles all over.

But she's also a horseback rider and a dogwalker, and it's given her quite possibly the hottest, tightest little body I've ever had the pleasure of seeing in person.

In her own way, though, she knows more about "unconventional" than I do. In short, the girl is a sexual deviant.

I bring this up because we're piled in a tiny room with maybe fifty other people, and that little harpy has given me a boner. Did I mention that the room is part of the Haunted Mansion queue in Disneyland, and the fifty other people are sunburned tourist families with more irritating little children than should be legal? Because both of these things are true.

And it's seriously concerning me.

I should have known something was up when she insisted on going in a second time. My recitation of the stretching room monologue and running commentary of the ride couldn't have been that appealing, I'm the first to admit it.

But she grabbed my hand, laughed her charming little bell laugh, and told me, "Come on, Wil. You only live once." I was powerless to do anything but follow her through the gates. The line was short, and next thing I know we're in the stretching room. I'm not reciting the monologue this time, though. I'm too preoccupied by the gorgeous redhead who's pulled my head down to hers and is alternating between whispering all of the dirty things she wants to do to me and licking my the shell of my ear with her hot little tongue.

"I think...you've been a naughty boy, Wil. What is it you've got down there? In front of all of these families? There's only one punishment I can think of for such a misdeed." Her hand runs down my chest to the hem of my t-shirt, and she's pulled it up to lightly scrape her manicured fingernails under the waistband of my boxers.

I don't reply; just wordlessly suck in air in attempt to get the blood to rush somewhere, anywhere, other than to my rapidly swelling cock. To no avail.

She continues. "I think that I'll have to start by, once we get into one of those little...what are they, Wil?" she asks, obviously savoring the look she's put onto my face.

"Doom buggies" I grind out.

It must be too dark for any of the tourists to notice either the tent bulging out of my jeans or the ginger hottie dangling off of me, and I make it through the hallway safely. The inverted busts at the end of the hall are judging me, though. I can tell.

Insane as the situation is, I don't have the heart to pry her off of me. We're fast approaching the doom buggies we get loaded onto for the ride, and one of her little hands is still lightly skimming the lower ab area of my stomach and the other is threaded through my fingers.

Oh, god. We're getting into the ride. The cast member dressed in the old Victorian-era costume who pointed us into a car didn't even give us a second look. What's wrong with security in this place? We can't do this here! We'll get-

My mind is going momentarily blank as Vanessa roughly grabs my head and gives me a long, hard kiss. Damn. How did I get this girl again? Her hand is dipping, lower, lower, and it comes to again rest under the waistband of my boxers, her fingertips lightly tickling the skin and happy trail they find there.

Oh, god we can't do this. TELL HER WE CAN'T DO THIS, WIL! GODDAMN IT! "We can't do this," I manage to say. "It's...wrong. So wrong. And....They have infrared cameras. Everywhere."

We're gliding past a moving casket, an ominous raven perched on top. It's cawing at us.

Also, judging us.

Vanessa just giggles at me. "Don't be so damn moral, Wil, it's really no fun at all. And this should solve your little... 'camera issue'."

Out of fucking nowhere she produces what appears to be the Snuggie I had packed for her, just in case. "A Snuggie?" I exclaim. "That's doubly wrong! It's like fucking a telletubby!"

"Suck. It. Up," she hisses with a devious grin as our doom buggy begins to twist around to enter Madam Leota's séance room. The sudden darkening of the room begins to bolster my courage just a little bit, and I let myself calm down just a bit. I can feel the heat coming from the little hands she's snaked beneath the fabric of my jeans, and as the floating crystal ball prophesizes before us, those jeans 'mysteriously' become unzipped.

Fuck, this is actually happening. I can smell her shampoo within the confines of our half-dome doom buggy, and it's putting me in a haze. "Vanessa, you know you don't-"

"Yes, I know I don't have to," she murmurs in my ear. Next thing I know, my erection is being pulled free from my boxer shorts, and she's holding it.

"Oh, god."

She lets out a low laugh. My dick is resting in her palm, and she's using her other hand to lightly stroke the shaft. And when I say lightly, I mean lightly. Vanessa's fingers are making maddening, feather-light patterns across my shaft, up and down, side to side. The tease.

I groan aloud and the sound is masked by our Ghost Host's narration of our entering the ballroom scene, but I'm not even bothering to look for the bullet hole I know hides in the giant panes of glass. "More," I'm practically begging now. "Vanessa..."

"What's the magic word?" she asks, drawing a line up to the tip with the back of her fingernail.

"Please!" I force out.

Vanessa is enjoying this far too much, and we both know it. But she relents, and uses her other hand to spread the pre-cum dribbling from the tip along my shaft, making an O with her thumb and forefinger, and begins to jerk me off.

"Fuck," I mutter. "Yes. Shit, yeah."

She speeds up, and I glance over at her. The faint blue light of the mansion's attic scene lights her hair up, ghost-like. She has the faintest smile, but her lips are parted slightly, the tip of her tongue poking out. It's her concentrated face, and I've seen it from time to time when she really wants to get something done right. I close my eyes again.

Her pumping of my dick has started becoming in-sync with the heartbeat that echoes through the room, and I grunt. We both know I won't be able to finish in time for the end of the ride, and the small bit of my brain left ponders this for a moment.

She continues to pump up and down, randomly switching up the speed and pressure and before I know it we're being tipped backwards once more, to face the judgmental crow once more. Strains of the "Grim Grinning Ghosts" song float by, and her face goes from simply concentrated to straight up determined. I can hear her breath, like mine, quickening with every passing moment. This is the last room of the ride.

Suddenly, our cart comes to an abrupt stop, and she stops for a moment, confused. The music is continuing to play, and we're still tipped slightly backward, but none of the doom buggies are moving along their tracks. A disembodied voice booms from behind our heads, announcing that the ride has "stopped momentarily" and that we must stay inside the vehicle.

Vanessa and I lock eyes for a moment, unsure of what to do. Is this because of us?

"Well," she whispers, "In any case we have more time now."

And just like that, she returns to the handjob. This time, she switches between fondling my balls and running her saliva-dampened fist back and forth against my cock.

For a couple more minutes this continues in general silence, and I start to feel guilty for not compensating. Twisting my upper torso to accommodate it, I work my hand into her hair and kiss her, hard. She doesn't seem into it at first, obviously concentrating hard on the 7-inch cock she's decided to relieve. After several moments, I slide my other hand down from her cheek to the top of her blouse, and am rewarded with a small shiver. My fingers meet small goose bumps at the top of her breast, and the slide down into the sheer navy blue lace cup to lightly squeeze the flesh they find there. I can feel her soft, pink little nipple tightening, and it brings a smirk to my face.

We're still tipped backwards with the spooky music playing in the dark, and I'm afraid someone is going to notice the motion coming from the doom buggy. Vanessa is furiously pumping my shaft trying to finish me off and our heads and hands are still tangled upon each other. But I push the thought from my mind and try to hold back a groan as I twist her nipple sharply away from her chest, just how I know she likes it.

A cry explodes, unbidden, from her mouth, and I cover it with my own as I continue to play with her tit. She has her own ideas, however. Sharply breaking from the kiss and giving me an excuse to roll my head against the curved back of our car, she leans down, whips the Snuggie over her head, and repositions my cock beneath her mouth so I can feel her breath precipitating on my skin, and I sigh.

Normally this is something I'd like to watch, honestly. Something about that fiery red hair bobbing up on by dick always sets its own kind of fire to my veins... but since that's not exactly an option at the moment, I let myself concentrate wholly on the feeling of her soft lips on my balls. Her tongue comes out every few seconds, teasing the base and I have to hold back my urge to guide her head myself.

It's already become apparent that she's the one controlling this particular hookup.

Her mouth jumps to the tip of my cock, taking the entire head into her mouth and sucking as if her life depends on it. This time my groans and "ahhs" are let loose for the entire graveyard to hear, the sensation overwhelming me.

I'm close, and she knows it.

As if on cue, the graveyard is filled with the sound of wheels grinding against a track, and as our cart begins to shudder backwards again I realize that this means that the ride, too, is almost over. I tap her head lightly, and she gets the message.

Light as a feather, her hands dance up and down my shaft as her expert lips suckle away at the head, swirling her tongue against it. With no warning, she lets go and, in what seems like three seconds flat, has the entire thing in her mouth, deepthroating the monster.

The sensation of being enveloped in the warm, moist cavern that is her mouth and brushing against her silky tongue only to be sucked even further in by the ring at her throat is something I've had the pleasure of experiencing twice before. And, like before, it did the trick.

For nearly half a minute, the doom buggy continuing to side back and forth towards the final exit, I shoot load after load of my hot dripping seed down the back of her throat. To her credit, Vanessa takes it like a champ, continuing to milk my cock for last of my cum until the very end.

Vanessa barely has time to zip me back up and compose herself before we step onto the moving floor at the end of the ride, where the ride attendant greets and assists us like nothing at all is strange. I find it difficult to make it back out to the sunlight, my head still in a post-orgasmic daze and my legs feeling like jelly.

"Well, Wil," she says to me, sliding her sunglasses on with a smirk. "How's that for the 'Happiest Place on Earth?'"

I watch her saunter backwards into the crowd for a moment before calling after her, "It was..."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I think we're going to need to get ourselves some year-long passes!"

And we do.