Can't Help the Way That I Feel

by Lori Bryant-Woolridge

  I couldn’t even see Adler yet, but my breath caught in my throat anyway. A few seconds passed before he finally emerged from the car and headed toward the steps. I followed.

  I was midway up the steps as his foot disappeared across the top step. I climbed faster, landing only on my toes, my breath coming harder at each step. As I reached the top, the white face of the large station clocked proclaimed it to be eleven o’clock.

  Adler headed toward the restrooms, at the back of the platform. I didn’t hesitate as I followed him, careful to avoid the shadows. I felt myself become bolder with each step. I wanted to remain visible now. I stared at Adler, my eyes boring into the back of his head as I made my way across the platform, willing him to turn around.

  He rounded the corner to the men’s restroom and he hesitated. Just then, he caught a glimpse of me and slowed down. I stopped and stared at him, not sure what I should say.

  A few seconds ticked by, and finally, Adler smiled. I licked my lips, suddenly noticing how dry my mouth was. We stood there a second longer until Adler raised his hand, beckoning me forward with a small movement of his index finger. I glanced over my shoulder at the deserted platform, took two steps and followed him into the restroom.

  We didn’t speak. Adler pushed open a stall at the end of the room for me and I stepped inside. He quickly followed and locked the door behind me. I should have been afraid, but instead, my body tingled all over. It was warm, but I shivered anyway. Adler pulled me to him and I melted, allowing him to kiss me. Our lips fused together as he probed the inside of my mouth with his tongue. My insides exploded, surprising me. My reaction to his words had been strong, but my body’s response was far beyond that. He smelled even better today than he had yesterday; the spice cologne he wore had undertones of vanilla.

  Adler ran his hands up my thighs, lifting my skirt as he went. He squatted and put his mouth directly over my puss, blowing his hot breath through my thin, lace panties. I felt hot and cold at the same time, and I moaned, not caring who might hear. I leaned backward and gripped the sides of the stall to keep from falling.

  My mouth rounded into an O and I pressed my eyes closed. Waves of pleasure pulsed through me as I pressed my pelvis against his face. He used his mouth to move my underwear to the side and began to probe me with his tongue.

  I gasped and tensed my body to keep from falling as Adler drank me up. I saw sparks behind my closed eyelids. Part of me wanted him to stop. I fought the conflicting emotions and willed myself to relax and enjoy. I could feel the bumps on his tongue against my pussy lips.

  He moved faster and pressed harder and waves of pleasure started at the tips of my toes. I felt a tsunami coming, rolling up from my toes, through my pelvis, then cascading outward. I moaned, then bit the edge of my lip. My body felt covered with pins and needles. I was right on the edge. Just as I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he stopped.

  I gasped, whining a little. “Don’t stop.” I was confused. I was almost there. Was he trying to torture me on purpose?

  “Shh,” he said, rising to holding one finger over my mouth.

  Confusion clouded my mind. Not sure what to do, I let my body take over. My panties were soaked through. Adler stood, grabbed the thin material and tore it from my hips. I opened his belt and unzipped his pants in almost one motion. They feel to his knees and I pushed him backward. His dick leaped to attention. My mouth watered in anticipation. I pulled his underwear downward and gripped his buttcheeks, pulling him to me as I bent down to return the favor.

  My mouth covered him with one try. I relaxed my throat to take him in as much as possible, placing my hand at the base of his fuck-rod. He grunted as I synchronized the motion of my mouth and tongue, moving them together in a rhythm with each mouthful. I created my own metrical composition, enjoying the sounds of Adler’s grunts as they punctuated the end of each phrase.

  His grunt changed to a lusty groan and he pushed me away, before reaching out to keep me from falling backward. Adler gripped my thigh, and I leaned against the stall door as he hand-delivered his cock into my pussy, causing me to catch my breath. I tilted my pelvis forward to meet him and Adler let out a deep sigh and began to move upward slowly. I thrust downward, pushing him deeper. He moaned. I lifted my other leg and wrapped them both around his waist, supporting myself by wrapping my arms tightly around his shoulders and neck. Breathing came harder as he thrust himself harder and faster into me. His poetry had been just a prelude; where I felt smothered and speechless by his words before, I was consumed by his body now. The reality was ten times better than what I had imagined. I wanted to take every inch of him. My hips rose to meet his as I wrapped my legs around him tighter to draw him deeper inside me.

  A slow rumbling started in my belly and my knees began to ache with pleasure. Our movements became faster and harder and I was on the very edge when an explosion made every muscle in my body tense at the same time. We moaned in unison, and everything faded to white. We didn’t move. His poetry was good, mesmerizing even, but it was no match for the performance he’d just given. A smile crept across my face.

  Adler had me pressed up against the stall door. As my vision started to clear, we both seemed to realize that the rumbling was continuing.

  I exhaled. “Your train—”

  Adler had melted into me, but he jumped to attention, pulling his penis away from me at the same time. I let my feet drop to the floor and wiped my brow with the back of my hand.

  We didn’t speak. Adler put himself back together so fast I almost missed it. Our eyes met, and he opened his mouth to speak. It was my turn to silence him. I closed his lips with my own and let him go.

  Two minutes later, I walked past the train. I didn’t turn my head to look for him as I passed. Instead, I looked straight ahead and walked purposefully out of the train station and back to my car. My good sense was returning, and words were forming in my head. I had deprived myself too much. I felt relaxed and in control and my story was already forming in my head, coming faster and smoother than it ever had before. By the time I locked the doors, the train lumbered to a start. The light from inside the train lit up the rural night. I paused for a minute to watch it pull away, then smiled to myself. My book was waiting.

  TILT-A-THRILL

  Noori Lun

  I’ve never tried a strap-on, but I’d love to try and approximate what it would be like to have sex like a man.

  —Noori Lun

  Yesterday when I stood in line to board the tilt-a-whirl, I was embarrassed, worried that the cute but verging on jailbait ride operator would recognize me and call the police. But today, I don’t give a damn. So what if I, a fifty-four-year-old woman, have been to the local fair every day since it hit town last week? So what that once again I am first in line waiting for the ride to open? It no longer matters to me that I am always alone and always the oldest rider aboard, not counting the occasional grandparent roped into escorting a child. I couldn’t give a damn if they hear my screams of ecstasy or witness the look of orgasmic joy on my face.

  I am here at this temporary amusement park for the fifth day in a row to do two things—eat cotton candy and get my whirl on. And frankly, it ain’t nobody’s business if I do.

  This all happened so innocently. Last Thursday, I was forced to take a detour from the supermarket and there on a large grassy plot of land was a traveling amusement park, complete with rides and games and all the yummy, fattening food that makes carnivals so damn fun. Going to the county fair had always been a big deal in my neck of the woods. In fact, nearly every romantic first I had experienced as a teenager had happened there. My first date, with Richard Jeffries, was at the county fair. I got my first kiss on the top of the Ferris wheel, and my first gift from a boy—a pink and black teddy bear, won for me at the baseball throw. A few boyfriends later, my first intercourse-free orgasm had occurred in the fun house at the gifted hands of Warren Adams. Talk about your fun times.

  I hadn’t been to a fair in decades and with no
thing better to do that afternoon, I decided to stop in and take a look around for old times’ sake. I spent an hour riding everything from the Ferris wheel to the merry-go-round. I won myself a white poodle in the ping pong toss, had my weight guessed and my fortune told. I thoroughly enjoyed myself and decided to top off my day with some sticky sweet spun sugar. But I never made it over to the cotton candy truck. Instead I was lured by the twinkling lights and the funky sounds of Earth, Wind and Fire over to the tilt-a-whirl.

  Figuring that everyone’s life could use an occasional whirl, I took a seat. What happened on that ride left me sweet and sticky all right, and I’ve been back every day since, riding at least three times a day. They’re folding up their tents today, so here I am this morning—ready to go for the gusto before this fair experience becomes another download on my memory drive.

  As soon as they open for business, I buy my ticket and make a beeline for the tilt-a-whirl, or as I’ve renamed it, the tilt-a-thrill. My stomach flutters with each step. Nervousness mixed with eager anticipation is a powerful cocktail especially when I know what pleasure lies ahead.

  The young man takes my ticket and looks directly in my eyes. “You’re back,” he says with a coy half smile on his lips.

  The way he smiles makes me nervous. Obviously he recognizes me but could he possibly know? Nah, I decide, calming myself. Still, he’s been there every morning to collect my ticket and secure me into the car. He had to at least wonder why I kept coming back. I lower my eyes to avoid his. They come to rest on the control panel and I notice three buttons labeled ON, OFF, and JOY. I smile to myself. How very apropos.

  I walk past the first four cars, choosing my favorite, number five: the magic car with the magic seat. I step into the hooded tub as usual, but this time, with a slight flip of my wrist, I discreetly raise the back of my dress before I sit down. I press my bare ass into the seat and lightly squirm, warming the cold metal with the heat of my wantonness. Within seconds, he is there, back in my face with his devilish smile, pushing the safety bar toward my lap.

  “Enjoy your ride.”

  I swear he’s laughing as he walks away. I wonder if he knows I’m sitting here about to ride this thing bareback.

  My heart skips as the motor begins to grind, a telling sign that my sexy ride is about to begin. My tub, along with the six others, swings lethargically side to side as the machinery cranks up. I wait with anticipation, wondering which way my life will go spinning. That’s part of the thrill of this ride—the randomness. You never know which way your tub is going to turn.

  I begin to feel the familiar vibration in my seat. Like a race-horse trained to shoot the gate at the sound of the gun, my twat begins to twitter, instant-messaging the rest of my pleasure nerves that the ride is about to begin. I suck in a quick breath as my car takes its first complete go-round, causing me to slide slightly across the seat. As I predicted, the direct contact of hard and smooth metal with soft, wet arousal is raising the bar of pleasure to the next level.

  My car begins to twirl, quickly increasing the vibrations and friction. I press my pelvis forward, trying to position my clitoris directly on the seat. Rewarded with a metallic kiss, I squirm as the speed increases. My stomach jumps into my chest before bouncing back, putting a pleasing pressure on my pelvic region. My adrenalin is pumping and so is the blood to my greedy nib.

  One side of the platform rises, throwing my car into a counterclockwise rotation. My body shifts back to the left and my bare ass slides across the seat again. I consciously press my weight into the seat, keeping my pussy in constant contact. I gyrate and rock back and forth within the red and purple hull, savoring the vibrations that are spraying seeds of orgasmic blooms throughout my body and planting them in the garden of my sex. I move my ass in a four-corners pattern, square-dancing in place, rocking in a forward, backward, side-to-side motion. The movements are small and contained but powerfully arousing. Blood is pooling in my clit as the car shifts directions, once again moving me to the left. I close my eyes, enjoying the chaotic feel of my immediate world spinning apart, eagerly anticipating the explosion that is coming.

  My stomach lurches again, forcing my eyes open. I notice that the other cars are whirling in place as mine lifts farther into the air, this time to the right, forcing my body across the seat again. I keep my hands in my lap to keep my skirt from flying up, but with my pussy in such close proximity, I want to touch it and help coax from her excited lips the powerful orgasm I know is imminent. The path twirls and undulates and the festival scene outside my pleasure ride is a blur of color and shape, adding to my sense of drunken pleasure. The boy operator stands at the perimeter of the ride platform with a direct view of the ride and riders. It is clear that he is fixated on my tub. He is watching me and rather than embarrassing, it excites me. The squeals of laughter mix with my moans and gasps to create in my head a frenetic symphony of aural sex. My clit is pulsating, ready to burst.

  She demands contact. The seat, now warm and wet with pussy nectar, has ceased to supply the necessary friction to get me off. I can feel my approaching orgasm begin to ebb. I debate with myself whether to allow my hands to gratify me, fighting with the voice telling me that public displays of masturbation are lewd and unlawful. But just as I am about to give up, I hear the metallic bumps and grinds of metal hitting metal and the car begins to vibrate and shake as it tilts, changes direction and twirls in a more helter-skelter manner. Again, I press my greedy cunt into the seat and push back and forth across the slippery bench. I clinch my asscheeks tight as I let it rise and fall, and let this carnival ride turned sex toy shake, rattle and roll me into orgasm.

  My screams of satisfaction mix with the joyful shouts of others and, as if on cue, the tilt-a-thrill begins to slow its roll. I lean back into the car for the first time, allowing the rippling waves of pleasure to wash over me as the tub gently rocks back and forth like a caring lover.

  I take a deep breath as the safety bar releases me. My legs wobble slightly as I climb out and walk quickly toward the exit, avoiding all eyes, especially his. This has been the most powerful orgasm yet and also the only one that has left me wanting more. I teeter over to the nearest shelter, the fun house, wanting to get lost for a minute to rest and recover. Since it’s still early, the enclosure is empty. Alone in my secret thoughts, I walk farther into the tent and pause in front of a mirror that distorts my body. I look like a giant—a tall and supersexed wonder woman. I may be half a century old, but I still look damn fine. I can stand next to any forty-year-old and proudly hold my own. I am shapely, sexy and best of all—seasoned. After a quick glance around to make sure I’m alone, I lift my skirt and see my magnified coochie staring back at me. She is still sensitive and greedy for more, and witnessing her in this supersized state turns me on. The temptation to touch is too great and I stand in front of the mirror with every intention of fingering myself into another orgasm.

  I reach into the middle of my cave and dip into the pleasure pudding that remains. I smear my clit and begin to rub, feeling the blood come rushing back into place. I can feel it begin to grow and twitch in anticipation of another orgasm. The pleasure is so intense that I close my eyes as I rub and push, tickle and taunt my nib almost to the point of no return. It feels so fucking good that my legs buckle slightly and I step back—not into empty space as I expect, but into a soft and hard combination of obvious manhood.

  My eyes shoot open and in the crazy mirror I see operator boy standing behind me, his pants and underwear pooled at his ankles. Our eyes meet in distorted recognition and with a flick of an eyebrow, I give him permission to continue.

  With his hard dick pushing into my backside, he puts his hand between my legs and pushes several fingers deep into my dripping pussy. “You know, I made you come on the tilt-a-whirl,” he tells me.

  My eyes, full of question, look into the mirror and find his.

  “I was watching you. I have been all week. I could tell you were ready to come and then something happened,
” he whispers in my ear as his fingers continue to investigate my innards. “So I pushed the joy button.”

  Again, my eyes query his remarks.

  “The ride has a seven-motor system. I can single out any one car and take control,” he says in a voice that spoke with amused empowerment. “The joy button kills the power to all the motors and applies the brakes to the table but not the tub…”

  “Shh,” I demand, his technical talk beginning to destroy my sexual buzz. The only joy button I am concerned about right now is the one between my legs. I don’t understand his explanation but the fact that he’s watched and somehow participated in my escapade has ratcheted up my desire. “Shut up and fuck me.”

  For a young man who seems to delight in being in control, he takes direction well. He puts one hand on my back, bends me forward with just the right blend of dominance and deference, and replaces his hand with his youthful, blissfully hard-as-a-metal-rod dick, and pounds my pussy doggy-style. He fucks me roughly with little finesse and all heart. Just the way I want it.

  I watch in the mirror as our bodies collide with sexual force. The circus atmosphere, my uncharacteristic exhibitionism, the idea that I, a fiftysomething, widowed grandmother of two, am fucking the shit out of a young stranger, combines to create a potent stew of raw lust and hungry need. I brace myself with one hand on the mirror and push my hand under my shirt to give my breasts the attention they ache for. I pinch and roll, giving each nipple the opportunity to join the party. The direct line between my nipples and clit is still intact and I feel the electric jolt rush my pussy and cause it to pulse.

  Our coupling is silent, as sex between perfect strangers often is, but the conversation taking place between our bodies is a shouting match. The sound of his pelvis slapping against my ass echoes through the fun house. The smell of sex has begun to permeate the air around us, and the aroma of arousal adds to our urgency. Operator boy begins to grunt as he gets closer to getting off. His stroke becomes faster and faster and just before he shoots his wad, he reaches around my thighs and delivers a slight slap to my engorged pussy. The surprising sting radiates throughout my pelvis and my entire body begins to convulse in orgasmic delight. He begins to buck and pulls out of me, spraying cum all over my ass. We both collapse against the mirror, our bodies still humping as the thrill of our ride slows to a stop.