Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties

She was still leaning against the rail looking at the view when he pulled her back toward him.

She turned and looked at him, reading his face, finding what was there, and then she reached up and started unbuttoning her top again without him having to say anything about it.

He kissed her while she did it, his hands finding her waist, and she pressed into the kiss with the warmth of someone who had stopped being strategic about anything and was just present in the moment they were in.

Her top fell open and he moved his mouth from hers to her neck, working down slowly, feeling her breathing change against his cheek, her hands finding the back of his head.

He moved lower, his mouth finding her chest, pressing against the soft skin above her boobs before moving to them, his tongue circling slowly.

"Oh," she said quietly. "Mm."

Her hand pressed the back of his head gently and he kept going, taking his time, feeling her body respond to each specific thing, her chest rising and falling faster with each passing minute.

He straightened up and kissed her again, deep and present, his hands moving across her back and down to her waist and then to her ass, spreading across it, feeling the softness of it in his palms, squeezing.

She made a sound against his mouth.

He turned her gently and she understood, moving with him, her hands finding the rail again, facing the view. From this position the city was visible on the horizon, the late afternoon light having shifted toward something warmer and lower, the park below them throwing long shadows from the rides and the trees.

He pressed against her from behind, his hands on her hips, and she pushed back into him, the movement deliberate and clear.

He reached under her skirt with one hand, finding her, pressing slowly, and she dropped her head forward between her arms.

"Oh," she said. "Liam."

He kept his hand where it was for a while, feeling her, his other hand moving up her back and around to her chest, his palm pressing flat against her boob from behind, his thumb moving across her nipple.

"Mm," she said. "Oh god."

Then he positioned himself and pushed in slowly.

"Oh." Her grip on the rail tightened. "Oh that’s. Oh."

He started slow from this position, his hands on her hips, long deliberate strokes, each one reaching the full depth of the angle before pulling back. The gondola sat still around them, the park below, the sky above, the city on the horizon in the warm late afternoon light.

"Mm," she said. "Oh. Oh Liam."

He drove deeper.

Her head dropped between her arms again, her back curving, her ass pushing back against him on each stroke, the flesh of it soft and giving under his palms as he gripped her. Her boobs swayed beneath her with the rhythm, forward and back, the skin of them warm and flushed.

"Oh," she said. "Oh god. Right there."

He stayed right there and kept the pace, his hands pulling her hips back to meet each forward drive, the rhythm consistent and building, the sound of them mixing with the wind and the distant sounds of the park and nothing else up here at this height.

"Mm," she said. "Haa. Oh."

He moved one hand from her hip to the front of her, his thumb finding the right place, pressing lightly, and she made a sharp sound and her arms straightened against the rail.

"Oh," she said. "Oh don’t. Don’t do that or I’m going to."

He did it again.

She made a sound that had no structure to it whatsoever and her whole body pressed back harder against him, her hands gripping the rail, her head dropping back toward him briefly before going forward again.

"Mm," she said. "Oh. Haa. Liam."

He drove forward steadily, his thumb maintaining its pressure, his other hand gripping her hip, feeling everything build together, her sounds coming with each stroke now, continuous and unmanaged and going out into the open air with nowhere to land except everywhere.

"Oh," she said. "Oh god I’m. Oh. Oh."

He kept going.

"Haa," she said. "Oh. Liam. Oh god."

She came, her hands pulling at the rail, her whole body shaking through it, a long sound leaving her into the afternoon air above the park, her hips pressing back against him through every wave of it.

He held her through it, his hand still at the front of her, his other on her hip, feeling each wave until the last one passed and she was still and breathing hard against her own arms.

He finished with her, a low sound leaving him, his hands gripping her hips and holding her against him through it.

They stayed like that for a moment.

Just the gondola and the air and both of them breathing.

Then the wheel lurched.

Started moving again, slow and deliberate, beginning its descent toward the ground.

They fixed themselves quickly, her buttoning her top with one hand and smoothing her skirt with the other, him adjusting his trousers, both of them completing the process with the practiced efficiency of people who had done similar things in inconvenient locations before.

By the time the gondola reached the bottom and the attendant opened the gate they looked like two people who had simply spent some time at the top of a Ferris wheel enjoying the view.

---

They stepped out onto the platform.

A small gathering had formed near the base of the ride, maybe fifteen people, some of them other passengers who had just come down, some of them park staff who had appeared during the technical situation.

The ride manager was standing at the front of the group, a short man in a park uniform, his hat slightly askew, and when he saw passengers coming out he began bowing his head in apology with the specific energy of someone who had been doing this for the last twenty minutes and had committed fully to the performance of it.

"We sincerely apologize for the inconvenience," he said, bowing again. "We are so deeply sorry for your experience today."

Two staff members behind him were doing the same, a synchronized apology.

Someone from the crowd said something about their back.

Someone else said something about their children waiting.

A dinner reservation man was there, still going, now telling anyone who would listen exactly what time his reservation had been for.

Tasha looked at the manager. "Don’t worry about it," she said. "Honestly. The view was great."

The manager looked at her with the expression of someone who had been expecting continued anger and had received something else. He straightened up. "We’d like to offer you complimentary tickets for another visit," he said, already reaching into his jacket. "As many as you’d like."

"No no," she said, waving it off. "Really. It’s fine. Thank you."

She took Liam’s hand and walked.

They came out of the park into the evening.

The sky had moved while they were inside, the afternoon having given way to something warmer and lower, the light sitting at the angle it sat in the hour before it disappeared entirely. People were leaving in small groups around them, families and couples and groups of friends, the flow of the exit carrying everyone toward the car park in a loose unhurried stream.

"That was genuinely one of the more interesting days I’ve had in a while," Tasha said, walking beside him with her hands in her bag.

"The haunted house or the Ferris wheel," he said.

She looked at him sideways. "Both," she said.

He smiled at the path ahead.

"I missed you," she said. She said it simply, without making it more than what it was, just a fact she had decided to say out loud while they were walking.

"I missed you too," he said.

She nodded like that was the right answer and looked at the car park ahead. "Drive me back to my car," she said. "I left it at the coffee place."

"I know," he said. "I was there."

She looked at him. "Don’t be smart."

The drive back was quieter than the drive there, both of them settled into the easy silence of people who had used up the energy of the day and found it was comfortable to be quiet in each other’s company.

The city came back around them gradually, the buildings returning, the streets narrowing, the density of everything climbing back to what it had been that morning.

He turned onto the street with the coffee place and pulled up behind her car.

The street at night was a different thing from the morning.

The canopy was still out but the tables were empty now, the chairs stacked. The light came from the window of the place itself, warm and small, and from the streetlights above, the orange of them pooling on the pavement at intervals.

The street was quiet, a few people passing, a restaurant on the far side doing its evening business, the sound of it low and distant.

He cut the engine.

She sat there for a moment, not moving, looking at the street through the windshield.

"Thank you," she said. "For today."

"I had fun," he said.

"Yeah," she said. She turned and looked at him. "Me too."

She looked at him for a moment, quiet, taking something in. Then she leaned across and kissed him. Not long. Just present and warm and honest, her hand on the side of his face for a second before she pulled back.

She looked at him once more.

Then she got out of the car.

He watched her walk to her car, unlock it, get in. Her headlights came on and the engine turned over and she pulled out and drove away down the street.

Liam sat there.

He looked at the empty space where her car had been. Then at the coffee place with its warm window. Then at the street.

He opened his door and got out.

Something moved at the edge of his vision, fast and low, coming from the left, from between two parked cars, and he stepped back and turned and it passed close enough to feel the air of it.

He looked at the figure in front of him.

"Okay," he said, his hands loose at his sides, his voice carrying none of the alarm that the previous three seconds might have warranted. "Maybe don’t try that again."