Blackpool Pleasure

Blackpool in August was everything you'd expect—screaming kids, overpriced chips, and the kind of determined fun that only British people at the seaside can manage.

I was at the Pleasure Beach, specifically the log flume, because apparently I hated myself and my dry clothes.

The queue was mental, but worth it for the girl in front of me.

Thick, dark hair, wearing a white t-shirt that would definitely become interesting once wet. She was with friends who kept bailing to different rides, leaving us in increasingly frequent conversation.

"Your mates keep disappearing," I noted.

"They're scared of water." She rolled her eyes. "Came to Blackpool. Scared of water. Mental."

"You're not?"

"Mate, I'm from Manchester. We're basically born wet." She grinned. "I'm Jade."

"Will."

"Will. Strong name." The queue moved forward. "You look like someone who doesn't mind getting wet."

"Depends on the context."

Her grin widened. "Good answer."

We ended up in the same log—her in front, me behind, the ride operator looking too tired to care about solo rider protocols.

The first drop soaked us completely. She screamed, I laughed, and when we emerged dripping, her white t-shirt was doing exactly what I'd expected.

"Fucking hell," she said, looking down. "Should've thought that through."

"I'm not complaining."

"I bet you're not." She caught me looking, didn't seem to mind. "Want to go again? My mates won't be done for ages."

"Same ride?"

"Unless you've got a better idea."

The "better idea" turned out to be the Haunted House ride—dark, slow, designed for families but currently empty.

"No one goes on this in August," Jade explained, climbing into the cart. "Too sunny. Too cheerful."

"And why are we going on it?"

"Because—" She pulled me in, the bar closing over us. "It's dark. And private. And I've been thinking about this since the log flume."

The ride started. Darkness enveloped us.

Her hand found my thigh immediately.

"This okay?" she whispered.

"Very okay."

She kissed me while fake ghosts jumped out at empty air. Her mouth tasted like candyfloss and want.

"Quick," she breathed. "Ride's only four minutes."

Her hand slipped into my damp shorts, found me already hard. She stroked while animatronic witches cackled around us.

"Your turn," I managed, finding my way under her wet t-shirt, under her soaked shorts. She was hot against my fingers.

"Fuck—yes—"

We touched each other frantically, racing the clock, barely staying quiet through the "scary" bits.

"Close—already—"

She came on my fingers just as the ride emerged into daylight. I followed seconds later, both of us blinking in the sudden brightness.

"Ride again?" the bored attendant asked.

"Please," Jade said, still catching her breath.

We rode it three more times. Each time got further.

By the fourth round, we'd figured out the rhythm. The exact moment of maximum darkness. The exact angle that worked in the cramped cart.

"Cumming—fuck—"

She came with my cock inside her, muffling her scream against my neck. I followed, holding her tight as the ride emerged into light again.

"Best ride in the park," she said, grinning.

"No competition."

She gave me her number as her friends reappeared, none the wiser.

"Come back tomorrow?" she asked. "I know loads of dark rides."

"Wouldn't miss it."

I walked through Blackpool soaking wet and grinning like an idiot.

Best seaside trip of my life.