Amusement Park

 

Found photos, AI by Grok, edited by me, Her thoughts italics, your thoughts underlined.

The private amusement park was a hidden gem, a sprawling wonderland of twinkling lights and colorful rides, rented out just for the two of you on a warm June evening. You’d surprised Mary with the date, knowing her love for thrills and her knack for holding her liquor. She stepped out of the car looking like a summer dream in a small white spaghetti strap sundress, the fabric light and flowy, that barely skimmed the tops of her toned legs, the hem so short it left little to the imagination, showing off her athletic thighs and the curve of her butt with every step. Calf-high white socks peeked out of her sneakers, adding a playful touch to her look. Her blond hair was loose, catching the breeze as she grinned at you, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

“This is insane,” she said, spinning in a circle to take it all in he dress flaring just enough to flash her toned legs and the edge of her butt—the Ferris wheel glowing against the sky, the roller coasters looping in the distance, the carousel’s cheerful music drifting through the air. “You’re the best. Let’s make it fun—I’ll take a shot before every ride. Deal?”

You smirked, pulling a small bottle of whiskey and a shot glass from the bag you’d brought. “You sure? That’s a lot of rides, and you know how whiskey hits.”

Mary laughed, tossing her hair. “You know you want me to. Let’s go.”

**Ride 1: The Carousel**  

She poured her first shot of whiskey, downing it with a quick tilt of her head, no chaser needed. One shot won’t even touch me. I’m just warming up. You started easy, hopping onto the carousel. Mary picked a white horse with a golden mane. This is so cute, she thought, holding the pole as the carousel began its gentle spin. I feel like a kid again, but hotter. This dress is perfect—shows off my legs, and I know he’s watching. She looks incredible on that horse, like a carefree kid but so damn sexy. That dress is killing me—barely covering anything. One shot down, and she’s still solid. This is gonna be a fun date. The short sundress rode up as she sat, barely covering her thighs, her toned legs flexing as she held the pole. The dress’s hem teased the curve of her butt with every sway of the horse. The ride was slow and whimsical, and when it ended, she hopped off, steady as ever. “Child’s play,” she said, winking. “Next!”

**Ride 2: The Tilt-a-Whirl**  

Shot two went down just as smoothly, her lips curling into a smirk. The Tilt-a-Whirl spun you both in dizzying circles, Mary’s laughter ringing out as the car whipped around. Oh, this is fun! she thought, gripping the bar as her dress rode up slightly, the white socks stark against her tanned calves. She stumbled off the ride, her cheeks flushed from the spin, but her balance was still solid. I love how this feels—so free, wind everywhere. Hope he’s getting a good view. Two shots in, I’m still golden. I’ve got this. “Still good,” she declared, brushing her hair off her shoulder. God, she’s having a blast, and I can’t take my eyes off her. That dress is basically a tease now—lifting with every spin. Two shots, and she’s still steady? That's my girl.

**Ride 3: The Roller Coaster**

She poured shot three, spilling a little on her dress, and laughed as she drank. Three shots might hit me, but I can handle it. The park’s biggest roller coaster was next, a beast with steep drops and sharp turns. Here we go—real adrenaline, Mary thought, buckling in. I’m gonna scream my head off. This dress is gonna fly up, and I don’t even care. Let’s give him a show. Mary screamed through the loops, her hands in the air, the spaghetti straps slipping slightly as the wind rushed past lifting her dress to fully expose her legs and butt. When you both staggered off, her eyes were bright, but you noticed the first signs of the whiskey kicking in—a slight sway in her step, a looser giggle. “O'kay,” she slurred, just barely, “might be feelin’ it now.  Bud i’m gooond.  Sooo gooond” Little buzz. Still good, though. That was wild—her screaming, the dress flying up, showing everything. She’s starting to sway a bit; three shots are hitting her. I love how she’s still laughing, I’m so hard.

**Ride 4: The Ferris Wheel**  

At the bottom, she took shot four, her hands shakier now, the liquid dribbling down her chin. She wiped it with her wrist, giggling. “Oops.  I’m… i’m fine.  Let’s keep goin’.” The Ferris wheel gave a breather, the slow ascent offering a view of the park’s lights against the night sky. Mary leaned into you, her head on your shoulder, the whiskey warming her voice as she rambled about how pretty the park looked. This is so pretty, she thought, the whiskey softening her thoughts. The clouds, the lights… I’m getting tipsy, aren’t I? Dress is basically at my hips now—oops. He’s loving this, I bet. Oh, I’ve got a joint in my bag—perfect. I’m Mary Jane, after all. This’ll make the lights even better. She reached into her small bag, pulling out a joint and a lighter, giggling as she lit it up. “Gotta live up to my name,” she said, taking a deep drag and exhaling a cloud of smoke, the scent mixing with the night air. She offered it to you, but you shook your head, content to watch her. She took another hit, her eyes half-closing as she sighed, “This is the best.” That one hit hard, she thought, giggling. This is perfect—she’s cuddling up, looking at the clouds, but that dress is basically useless now. A joint? Of course, my Mary Jane. She’s so chill now, high and tipsy-Four shots, and she’s definitely tipsy—shaking hands, slurring a little. I’m loving how carefree she’s getting, but the weed’s gonna make her a mess. You couldn’t resist, you placed a hand on her thigh. As she smoked, you caressed first her upper thigh, and then under her panties. She moaned in pleasure, “Oh yah, finger me,” she encouraged as you slipped your finger into her wet pussy. As she orgasmed, the ride was up.

**Ride 5: The Drop Tower**  

She carefully poured and drank shot 5, her movements slow and deliberate. The drop tower was a hoot. It shot you up, then plummeted, Mary’s screams turning into a mix of laughter and slurred curses. Oh God, this is wild! she thought, her stomach lurching as her dress flared up, flying up to her waist as you fell, revealing her white panties, her socks slipping down one calf as she kicked her legs. I’m drunk now. Everything’s spinning, and not just from the ride-im flying from the joint. Five shots—pushing it, but I’m a champ. Gotta keep going.  When you landed, she was a mess—swaying hard, her words jumbled. “Thad was… whoa,” she mumbled, pouring shot six with a sloppy hand. She drank, coughing once, then grinned. Siiiix!” she slurred, raising her arms like a victor. “I’m a shamp.  Nesst?” Okay, that burned. I’m drunk, but I’m killing it, she thought, grinning. Holy hell, that drop was intense, and her dress didn’t stand a chance—everything’s out. She’s so drunk now, barely standing straight. and the weed’s got her eyes all glassy. Five shots, and she’s still pushing for more? She’s a machine.

**Ride 6: The Bumper Cars**  

The bumper cars were her next ride, and she could barely steer, crashing into every wall as she laughed hysterically. This is hilarious, she thought, laughing hysterically as her dress hiked up to her waist, her toned legs and butt on full display. I can’t drive for shit right now. So drunk. And high.Definitely get a DWI. Im so slow. Dress is useless, socks are falling off—whatever. Six shots, I’m a legend. Her sundress was askew, one strap off her shoulder, her socks bunched around her ankles. She climbed out, nearly falling into your arms, her face flushed and her eyes glassy. Done it! Six for six, she thought, raising her arms in victory. She’s a complete mess now—can’t even drive a bumper car straight. Six shots, and she’s done it, but she’s wasted plus that joint—she’s wasted. I love how she’s still smiling, though. Out front of the turt-a-wherl, she straightened her socks, and her tits finally tumbled out of her dress. Ok, Im so drunk now. That feels good. Bet he loves this.

**Ride 7: Marry go ‘Round and your cock**

Shot seven barely made it down her throat, the whiskey splashing onto her dress in a messy arc, the amber stain spreading across the white fabric like a reckless painting. She giggled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her balance gone as she leaned heavily into you. Gotta hold on to him—everything’s spinning, she thought, her mind a hazy swirl of whiskey and weed. Seven shots. I’m a freaking rock star. This dress is soaked—oh well, it’s basically off anyway. Her blond hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, and her blue eyes were glassy, half-lidded with a mix of exhaustion and euphoria. You half-carried her back to the carousel—her calling it the “Mary-go-round” now, slurring her own name into the mix.  

She picked the same white horse with the golden mane, but this time she could barely climb on, her sneakers slipping as she giggled uncontrollably. “Helb meee,” she whined, her voice thick and playful. You lifted her by the waist, her dress riding up completely, the stained hem bunched at her hips, exposing white panties and the curve of her ass as she straddled the horse. One shoe was fully off now, dangling from her ankle, the other sock bunched around her calf. She’s so gone—seven shots and that joint, she’s a disaster, but damn, she’s still gorgeous. That dress isn’t even trying anymore—everything’s out, and she doesn’t care. I’m loving this chaos.  

The carousel started its slow spin, and Mary clung to the pole, her head lolling slightly as she mumbled, “Rounn ‘n’ rounn… liyke me…” Her spaghetti straps had slipped entirely, one breast peeking out as the ride jostled her, the whiskey stain glistening under the lights. She caught your eye and grinned, sloppy and wide. “You… you’re ssarin’.  Liyke whad ya see?” Then, in a sudden burst of drunken boldness, she reached out, tugging at your pants. “C’mere… yer turn t' ride somethin’.” Oh God, I’m so drunk—wanna fuck him right here. Carousel’s perfect—Mary-go-round and his cock. Best ride yet.  

You smirked, stepping closer as the carousel kept its lazy pace. She fumbled with your belt, her hands clumsy but determined, giggling as she finally got it undone. “S’my ride now,” she slurred, pulling you toward her. You climbed onto the horse behind her, the tight space forcing her body against yours, her dress a useless wad of fabric around her waist. She’s a total wreck—drunk, high, and horny as hell. Seven shots have her unhinged, and I’m not stopping her. This is insane—she’s riding me on a carousel. You slid her panties aside, her warmth pressing against you as she moaned, loud and shameless, her head tipping back against your shoulder. “Yesss… bezz ride,” she gasped, her voice breaking into laughter as the carousel’s music played on.  

The ride was slow, but she moved with sloppy urgency, her athletic thighs trembling as she gripped the pole for balance. The lights twinkled around you, the park eerily quiet except for her gasps and the creak of the horse. I’m so fucked up—feels so good, though. He’s so hard—love this. Mary Jane’s winning tonight. Her shoes and socks finally fell off completely, landing somewhere on the platform as she lost herself in the moment, her body shuddering against yours. You held her hips, guiding her as she unraveled, the whiskey and weed turning her into a wild, reckless version of herself. She’s falling apart—completely trashed, but she’s loving it. I’m losing it too—her moans, that dress, how intoxicated she is. Best date ever.  

When the carousel slowed to a stop, you both climaxed. Then she slumped against you, breathless and giggling, her dress a stained, crumpled mess, her hair wild. “Seben shots… seben rides,” she mumbled, triumphant despite the slur. “Told ya… i’m a shamp” She turned her head, kissing you sloppily, her lips tasting of whiskey and smoke. Everything’s blurry—think I won, though. So drunk. So high. So fucked. Love him for this. She’s barely coherent—seven shots, a joint, and she’s still grinning. She’s a legend, my Mary Jane. I’ll carry her if I have to—night’s not over yet.

**Ride 8: The Princess Castle and bed**  

Mary was a giggling wreck as you helped her off the carousel, her bare feet stumbling on the platform since both socks were long gone, lost somewhere in the chaos of the night. Shot eight was a sloppy affair—she grabbed the whiskey bottle from your bag, skipping the shot glass entirely, and took a swig straight from it, spilling more down her chin and onto her already-stained sundress than she managed to swallow. “Ate!” she declared, thrusting the bottle back at you with a triumphant hiccup. I’m so trashed—eight’s my lucky number, though. Gotta keep going. This dress is a mess—wet, sticky, barely on. Perfect night. Her blond hair was a tangled halo, her blue eyes unfocused but still gleaming with mischief as she leaned into you, her body warm and loose from the whiskey and weed.  

You steered her toward the princess castle, where you’d wisely booked a hotel room. ” She’s a walking disaster—eight shots, high as hell. That dress is clinging to her like a second skin now, soaked and useless—love that.  

Inside, the air was cool and musty, the bright lights showing off decadent fake splendor as you guided her through the narrow halls. Mary clung to your arm, her bare feet slapping the floor, her dress still bunched around her hips, exposing her panties and the curve of her ass with every wobbly step. She bumped into a suit of armor, and it fell with a klatter. she shrieked, then dissolved into laughter, nearly pulling you both down to the floor with the fallen knights armor. “Omigod, thadduzz dumb!” she slurred, gripping you tighter. This is hilarious— I’m soo drunk and high. Bet he’s loving me though, though—dress is up, ass out. Oops. She giggling as she almost tripped on a rug. 

The castle twisted on, with ornate doors and paintings lining the walls. Her bare breast runned against you as she pressed against you, her skin sticky with sweat and spilled liquor, the friction sending pleasure to her muddled brain. She’s obliterated—eight shots have her punching air and laughing like a maniac. That dress is a lost cause—tits out, ass out, she’s a mess. I’m loving watching her stumble through this.  

Finally, reaching your room, Mary screamed seeing the big four post bed, then grabbed your shirt, pulling you close with a wild grin. “let’s fffuck,” she slurred, her hands fumbling at your pants again. Need him now—everything’s hot and blurry. You laughed, catching her wrists as she swayed dangerously and striped her. She was relentless, her lips crashing into yours, sloppy and desperate, tasting of whiskey and smoke as she pressed her body against you. As you stripped, she somehow found the whiskey bottle and drank. She’s unhinged—eight shots and still drinking. She’s dripping chaos, and I’m so into it—her heat, her mess, her everything.  

Eight rides, eight shots—I’m invincible. World’s spinning, but I’m the queen. Love this—love him. She sank onto the bed, her dress a crumpled, stained heap on the floor, her thighs splayed as she looked up at you with a lopsided grin. You began to fuck her once more before she passed out. She’s done—eight plus shots, a joint, and she’s still smiling, sprawled out like a drunk goddess. That dress is toast, and she’s toast, but she’s my toast. Night’s hers—she’s the champ.

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