Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 6 - Sex Stories

Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 6

... holding my dress, but I knew I couldn’t stay like that once the ride started. Two choices: legs stretched forwards – which would have me leaning back into Josh – or tucked more modestly beneath me in a kneeling position. I could probably use a bit more modesty at this point, so I folded my legs down with my feet tucked behind and instantly regretted it. Whereas before I was sitting on my bottom, now all of my weight was on my pussy and I was painfully aware of the fact that I wasn’t sitting on my dress; it was just my panties between me and the padded surface of the bench, moulding into my every crevice. But I didn’t have time to change my position. With a sickening lurch and a shudder, the ride began and both Josh and I clutched at the barred gates on either side. There were no safety restraints; apparently the centrifugal force was enough to keep us in our seats, even upside down. As we gained speed, that very force swung the hinged gondolas bottom-out, and I clutched those bars for dear life, screaming with a mix of terror and excitement while Josh did the same behind me. I was okay while it was spinning horizontally – well, kind of okay – but then as the great arm began to lift us at an angle, we started looping high and low and that exhilarating feeling of being swung around in a circle transformed into a far more terrifying one of being flipped head over heels. Up and over, eyes bulging and gibbering like an idiot, the school buildings to my side rotating with dizzying ...

... speed. I gripped the seat between my knees, afraid with every flip that the laws of physics would fail me and I would fall and crash into the upside-down gondola roof. Abandoning the barred sides, I clutched at the seat with both hands and hunkered down low, crying and screaming “Help me!” or maybe it was “Hold me!” Whichever, I felt Josh’s large hands close around the tight, corset bodice of my dress just above my hips. My heart pounding with fear, that extra touch really was a comfort. I pushed myself back between his thighs, and every time we flipped over I braced against him until I had him pushed hard up against the back-rest. And then … oh dear … and then! Hunched over and hugging the bench, I was no longer sitting on my pussy. No, the soft panty-covered folds of my sex were now most surely pointed to the hindmost and rudely pressed (by me!) against the rapidly hardening bulge in the trousers of my erstwhile student and amusement-park-ride companion. But if only that was all! Oh, my word, the terror was gone but my blood was high and pounding in my ears. With his hands on my hips, I realised with horror that we were posed in a perfect parody of doggy-style sex. And of course the very second I thought about that, I thought how terribly easy it would be for him to simply unzip, pull my panties aside and slide into home plate. A task made all the more simple by the wetness I could feel gathering at my core, which was a situation unlikely to improve until I stopped rubbing ...