Snow White's Wishing Well And The Parade Behind Them
by Kate Bolin
TITLE: Snow White's Wishing Well And The Parade Behind Them AUTHOR: Kate Bolin
SUMMARY: Wesley, Lilah, Disneyland, sex. RATING: NC-17 for PWP mayhem.
FEEDBACK: Privately, please. It saves annoyance, and you're more likely to get a reply. ARCHIVE: My site, list sites, standing orders, otherwise ask. DISCLAIMER: The characters and universe herein are the property of Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar, and Kuzui Productions. This piece of fan-written fiction means no infringement. AUTHOR'S NOTE: For Jen-O. And Sheila. Because it's their discussion, as relayed by Jen, that has created this. Disneyland, Snow White's wishing well, and a parade at night. Don't tell me you haven't thought of it if you've been there.
There's singing behind them.
It's canned, badly, filled with laughter and artificial feeling. It's blaring from loudspeakers right and left and Wesley wonders if he's going to fuck her with the beat.
The fountain trickles softly, children shriek as they run to the parade and, within a few minutes, the area is empty. The parade continues on Main Street, all bright lights and dancing creatures, and Lilah's leaning over the wishing well, throwing pennies carefully down.
Chimes begin, the fountain changes lights, and the plaster Snow White echoes the sounds coming from the speaker behind it. Wesley grabs Lilah around her waist and pulls her close, fitting her against his hard cock --hard all day, and the teasing she did never helps -- and slowly, tenderly, rubbing against her.
She laughs and pushes him away, just a little. She turns around and faces him, giving him rough sloppy kisses as the speaker from the well begins playing. She laughs as she kisses him, taking one of his hands and surely sliding it up between her legs.
Wet and hot and Wesley pushes her up against cold concrete stones, his hand still rubbing her right there, right now, and it takes only a few seconds for him to undo his pants and slide into her.
She's still laughing, catching her laughs with gasps and moans, and the speakers still blare from below and to the right.
She comes hard against him, squeezing, bucking, the laughter crashing into one more loud moan -- barely disguised by the loud music behind them.
Wesley groans into her ear, his belt buckle jangling as he thrusts, and one two three he's come, slamming her against the wooden posts angrily.
They pause. She laughs. And the parade slowly dies down.
"God, what kind of lesbians are you?
If you love men so much -- go love men!" Kate Bolin | ICQ: 3326944 | AIM: DymphnaNet http://www.dymphna.net | firstname.lastname@example.org
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Kate Bolin
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