With Peaches in the funfair - 2.

The last warm day of autumn. Peaches suggests the fair. She goes often enough to know which games pay out and which rides deliver the strongest jolt. Blonde hair catches the light as she leads the way. We ride the carousel twice, then the big wheel, then she pulls me behind the generator truck for the kind of fun the midway never advertises. No one sees us. Her hand is already inside my jeans, squeezing. I slip two fingers between her legs; she’s soaked through thin cotton. The engine hum masks every sound except the catch in her breath when I curl and press. She unzips me, drops to her knees in the grass, and takes me deep. One hand pumps the base, the other braces against my thigh. After she swallows, she turns around, palms flat on the truck, skirt lifted. I push inside her in one slow thrust. Her hips rock back to meet every stroke. Heat builds fast. She bites her lip to stay quiet, but a low moan still escapes when I fill her. We straighten our clothes, hearts hammering, and head back to the lights like nothing happened. She licks her thumb clean and grins.