Caught in a Mosh (Steel)
The look on their faces when I jumped into their car at the top of the wheel was priceless. Their chins hit their knees before they started giggling.
Goldilocks especially.
I found my blonde. Goldilocks is the girl I’m banging in this town. She’s tall, with legs a mile long. Her tits are small, but she’s slim all over so she looks mighty fine. Her long blonde hair is dead straight with bangs that reach her icy blue eyes.
“How are you ladies enjoying the show?” I ask.
“We just got here,” the redhead says.
Then the ride starts, giving me about three minutes to make my move.
“That’s cool, plenty of time to have fun,” I say.
“How did you get here?” Goldilocks asks. Her voice is as enticing as her tits, and I can’t wait to hear her screaming when I pound into her.
“I drove.”
She laughs and throws her head back, exposing her long neck.
“Not to town, into where you’re sitting,” she says.
“How do you think?”
“He climbed, obviously” the brunette says, snarling.
I give her cut-eye.
“You smell like diesel,” she says, returning my cut-eye.
“I smell like a man.”
The redhead bursts out laughing.
“What, you don’t believe me? What do you think, Goldilocks? Do I smell like a man?” I say, putting my forearm to her nose.
She inhales, and her eyelids flutter. That’s all the answer I need right there.
“Don’t keep us hanging, Emily. Does he smell like a man?” the brunette asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Emily, eh? I think I prefer Goldie,” I say. I want to touch her hair, but hold off. I know how to play these situations, this one’s going to take some work. But it’s going to be worth it, I can tell already she’s a good girl. The kind I like best. Nothing makes for a good fuck like a girl who’s been sexually repressed her whole life. They’re always the ones who can never get enough.
“Do we get to learn your name?” the redhead asks.
“I’m Steel,” I say, not taking my eyes off Emily.
“Steel? Why are you called that?” she asks.
“Lots of reasons,” I say.
The brunette rolls her eyes, “I thought you were going to say something lame, like it’s because you’re a strong as steel.”
“That’s one of them,” I say, lifting my shirt to show them my ripped abs.
Three sets of eyeballs pop out of their heads as they stare at my six pack. I lift my shirt a little higher, to give them an eyeful of my tattoo-covered pecs too. Best perk of this job is it gives you a body like mine. Gets a reaction like theirs every time. Even the brunette is silenced.
“You can touch, Goldie,” I say.
To my surprise, she reaches out her hand. Not what I expected from the good girl, but I sure like it. Emily hovers it over my abs, and I assume she’s going to chicken out.
But after thinking about it, she presses her hand against my belly. Her hand is soft and delicate while she runs it over my washboard stomach. My dick twitches in my pants, and I wish to fuck her two friends weren’t here. Unless, of course, they wanted to join in.
I glance over at them. Nah, not a chance. Emily’s the only one I want in my bunkhouse cabin tonight.
“What are the other reasons they call you Steel?” Emily asks, her voice breathy and her eyes still fixed on my stomach.
“That’s something I have to show you in private,” I say, smirking.
Our ride is over. Whiskey wisely unloaded our car last, but I still have to move my ass before Papa Smurf catches me.
Before our car even stops, I hop out of the car and stand beside it, as if I’ve been standing here helping people get on and off the ride all day.
I offer my hand for Emily to take, and she takes it. I support her as she climbs off, and Whiskey does the same for her friends.
“Enjoy the rest of the carnival,” I say. This is when I play it cool. I want her gagging for me by the time I find her later.
The three of them walk off without saying goodbye, but Emily can’t resist a quick glance at me over her shoulder. I pretend I didn’t notice, and help Whiskey load the next group of people onto the ride.
I work for another hour, helping Whiskey and moving around the other rides to make sure everything’s running like it should. I’m the ride foreman, and am responsible for all the rides. If we don’t pull in the money, Papa Smurf busts my ass, plain and simple.
But the whole time I’m moving between rides, I’m looking out for Emily. I can’t get the memory of her hand on my abs out of my mind.
Already I’m thinking about what I’m going to do to her after the eleven o’clock closing. I have to find her before then to tell her to come find me at closing. I’m going to take her to our nightly party before I take her to my bunk.
I’m checking up on Zombie at the bumper cars when Emily and her friends get on, each in their own cars. Fucking perfect.
A bunch of other people get in cars, and Zombie starts the ride. Emily is behind the redhead and her car lurches forward and smacks into the back of her. The redhead flies forward, her head jerking in an unnatural way.
Emily’s car zips near the edge of the course. I hop onto the bumpers on her car and grab onto the metal rod connecting the car to the ceiling. She looks up at me and smiles. I’m not exaggerating when I say it’s the prettiest smile anyone’s ever given me.
The way her eyes crease when she smiles is especially perfect. Like it’s a hint of the way they scrunch up when she comes.
The brunette zooms near us. I use my foot to turn Emily’s wheel and drive us straight into the side of the brunette’s car. She jolts with the impact, and both Emily and I laugh.
“Having fun yet?” I ask, shouting over the noise of the bumper cars.
“Yes,” she laughs.
That’s the third best thing about being a carny — making people smile. Especially when their smiles are as pretty as Emily’s. The second best thing about being a carny is every night’s a party.
Like I said before, the number one thing about being a carny is it gives you a body like mine, with muscles no woman can resist. Which means I can fuck who I want wherever I go. And tonight that’s going to be Emily.
Zombie shuts the ride off, and all the cars come to a standstill.
“Stick around for another turn,” I say, glancing over to the long line of people waiting their turns.
“I can’t, I’ve got to stick with my friends,” she says, standing.
“Suit yourself.” I step down off the bumper edge and step aside so she can get past me.
“Thanks,” she says.
“Enjoy the carnival,” I say. I know exactly how to treat these small-town good girls to get what I want out of them. You have to start slow, or they get scared off.
Another thirty minutes pass, and I move between the rides, keeping everything running smoothly. I spot the three of them at the end of the long line for the Zipper ride and realize this is my chance. Zipper cars only seat two — cozily.
Junk’s operating the ride, so he’ll make it extra long for me. Though he'd better not be a dick and speed it up until she pukes on me.
“Hey, ladies, I told you, you’re VIPs tonight. Come with me.”
Without touching them, I lead them to the front of the line. I nod at Junk, giving him my signal for a longer, slower ride and he laughs.
The brunette climbs into the car, and Emily moves to follow but I grab her hand and hold her back. The redhead either didn’t notice my move, or didn’t care and climbs in next. Junk slams the door and locks it, then moves the ride until the next car is in place.
Emily climbs in and turns to look back out the car. I hop in beside her and pull the cage shut, and Junk quickly moves our car along.
The cage is cramped, and the sides of our bodies touch, from our ankles to our shoulders. She tries to shuffle away to minimize our physical contact, but there’s nowhere to shuffle to.
“What’s the deal? Why do you keep coming up to me?” she asks.
“Because, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen in the whole country.”
“But not the whole world?”
“I’m sure the whole world too, but we don’t go there.”