Copyright © 1996

A few years ago, my sister invited me to join her family for a trip to Orlando and the Disney World complex. They live in Chicago, and I hardly ever get a chance to see them. So I said yes, despite my preference for traveling to more exotic and adventurous destinations. Judy's kids are 5 and 8 years old, so I knew that it would be fun to watch them enjoy the wonderland of children's pleasures. Her husband Jake and I don't normally get along too well-I guess he thinks I'm too much of free spirit (I am that, am I not?), or maybe he disapproves of my continuing unmarried status. And to be honest, I'm not that enamored with his all-business lifestyle, and sometimes I could strangle him when he goes on and on about the Magnificent Rush Limbaugh!! So it was with mixed feelings that the trip was begun. I'm glad to report that I did figure out how to have a good time.

Because of bad weather in Boston, I got into Orlando Airport five hours late, and didn't get to the hotel until after midnight. Of course, Judy's family was already tucked in and deep asleep, ready to get an early start the next day. So I slipped a note under the door of their room, explaining my lateness and suggesting that they go on ahead in the morning. I'd try to meet them at Cinderella's Castle at noon time. I wanted to be well rested, in hopes that it would help fortify my patience with the kids and Jake. I put out the "Do Not Disturb" sign and flopped down on the luxurious queen-size bed.

I slept like the proverbial log, and when I awoke, I was amazed to see the time; it was already 11:00 AM. I quickly showered and threw on a simple tee-shirt dress and sandals, and dashed down to the front desk. I had just missed the shuttle bus, and had to wait 20 minutes for the next one. I could see the monorail pull out of the station from the Disney parking lot, costing me another ten minutes. By the time I entered the Magic Kingdom and ran up Main Street, I was worried that I would miss them completely. I was already 45 minutes late, and with her kids made hyperactive by all the excitement, it would probably be impossible to get them to sit still to wait for ol' Aunt Sue. I could just hear Jake muttering about my irresponsibility and lack of respect. I ran up the path and into the heart of the Castle, surrounded by the mosaic of fairy-tale characters. Searching frantically, I finally went through the back of the tunnel. Amidst the crowd, I thought I saw Jake and Judy, but when I tried to catch up with them, they had disappeared. There was no way of knowing where they were off to, so after trying to think of a solution, I decided to just enjoy the day on my own.

And I surprised myself. I had no idea how much fun this place was going to be. Splash Mountain was a heart-stopping thrill, and the Haunted House was really eerie. I even got Donald Duck and Captain Hook to sign my shirt. behind their big plastic masks, it was hard to tell if they were enjoying the idea of pressing their pens into the white fabric and my pliant flesh beneath. Looking down at their signatures, I also noticed how apparent my nipples were, poking out through the thin fabric, unfettered by a bra. It was a turn- on for me to think of the many hundreds of strangers who could view my body so completely, for the dress hardly disguised anything. Checking my hips, I could even see the color and raised outline of my black thong panties. In the line for Thunder Mountain, the man behind me kept pushing up against my backside, all the while chattering away with his whiny kids. I pushed my ass back into his groin a couple of times, and the second occasion was rewarded by the feel of his noticeably erect cock trapped in his tight pants. Hopefully his wife would be ready for some sex later that evening, for I had certainly gotten the ball rolling.

One of the rides that I had heard about so many times from my eager nieces was Pirates of the Caribbean. It was already getting dark, so I headed over to Adventureland and had a quick dinner at an outdoor restaurant. When I walked over to the Pirates ride, I was surprised to see that there was no line. I walked into the building, and was greeted by a young man who informed me that the park was about to shut down for the night, and that the ride has just closed down. It was only 7:00! I had no idea that Disney closed so early. He informed me that Epcot and Pleasure Island were open much later. He was even brash enough to ask if he could escort me to Pleasure Island for some late-night fun at the night- clubs. I politely declined, explaining that I had to catch up with my family.

Then I noticed that people were still coming out of the exit for the Pirates ride. I sidled up close to him and begged him to let me take the ride. It wouldn't hurt anyone if he bent the rules a little. I was a little ashamed of myself for being so manipulative of this young and impressionable guy. But it was fun to flirt with him, and a challenge to see if I could get my way. His eyes flashed back and forth from my face to my chest, where he became more brazen about ogling my hard nipples. I even asked him if he would like to take the ride with me, but he said that he could get fired for that.

Eventually, he relented to my pleas and the effects of my feminine charms, and after glancing around to see if anyone was watching, he lifted the rope and let me in. Following me down through the dark passageways that led to the ride, we eventually got to the dock. Before I hopped into a boat, I turned to him and drew him into my arms, giving him a sizzling French kiss that shocked him. When I stepped away, he was standing there in a dreamy daze, and remained that way as I jumped into a boat and took off into the bowels of the cavernous ride.

Of course, my flirting not only had an effect on the ride attendant; I too was feeling a twinge of adventurous sexuality. When the boat floated into the first scene of ships firing their cannons at each other, I immediately fell under the spell of the realistic extravaganza. The sights and sounds and smells were so believable and palpable. At the same time, some part of me remained curious about the way the Disney people created this illusion of reality. I found myself frustrated with being a passive participant in this ride, for my natural instinct in almost all cases is to be more involved. I wanted to "be" a pirate, I wanted to fight with swords and plunder the villages. Being planted in this seat, on a planned trip through a computer-controlled experience, just wasn't my style.

Suddenly, I realized that I wasn't a captive to the ride. I was alone in the building, with no one watching my behavior. Without any hesitation or forethought, I jumped to my feet, leapt from the gunwale of the boat and onto the floor of the vignette, ready to experience the adventure first hand. It was only as I watched my boat drift away into a tunnel that I had a moment of second-thoughts. Just as fast, I put those fears aside, and surveyed the tableau surrounding me. On both sides of the "river" pirates were pillaging a quaint village. The townspeople's protests were resulting in the execution of someone who looked like the fat old mayor. Two men were engaged in a sword fight, while a woman cowered on the ground next to them. Fire appeared at the ground-floor window of one of the rustic buildings, and the sharp reports of sporadic gunfire filled the air, as did the smell of acrid smoke.

Of course, all of this was really more like a still photograph, with just enough limited movement by the characters to barely simulate reality. The motions were brief and repetitive, and when I got nearer to the people, the magnificent illusion was at least partially broken. Their faces were less convincing from close-up, and I could even hear the humming motors hidden under their disguises. Of course, these were all carefully programmed robots (I've since heard it called "animatronics"), but I was still impressed with the attention to detail and the timing. I made a conscious decision to play along with the fabricated drama. For a few moments, I would play a role in this fantasy, taking the identity of a wanton temptress. After all, I'd tried out for this part only minutes ago when I flirted shamelessly with the ride attendant.

That buccaneer over there carrying the sack of grain over his shoulder looked kind of brawny and cute, I thought, so I walked up to him and tickled his flanks, hoping that he would drop the heavy bag. This didn't get any reaction from him, so I pressed my entire body up against the front of his torso, reaching around to caress his back. His legs were pumping up and down as he walked, and one knee slipped between my legs. I thrust my groin forwards and felt his thigh push into my pubic mound, covered only by the two thin layers of fabric. I hadn't realized that I was already moist there until I felt that blunt pressure squash my cunt lips around. I let my hands drop down onto his ass cheeks. What a man-he had the much sought-after "buns of steel!" But when I reached around into his crotch, I was disappointed to discover that he was a eunuch. This was not the man for me.

Looking around, I saw the scene of the Mayor about to be executed by a brutish-looking man who was perhaps the Captain of the pirates. He had a snarling expression on his face, and his wooden-handled pistol was pointed at the chest of the befuddled gentleman cowering against the wall. His arms were outstretched and wavering, with the palms open in a futile effort to defend himself. He deserved a treat, sort of a final wish before his death, so I left the grain-thief and walked up to the Mayor. By standing right in front of him, I protected him from the pirates nasty threats and bullets, and I also found that his hands were right at the level of my breasts. I leaned forwards, and his palms cupped my soft flesh perfectly, his fingers clenching rhythmically, kneading insistently. I pull up my dress all the way, so that his hard hands could touch my warm skin directly. My nipples were pinched between his fingers. The pirate could only stare at my backside, with the tee shape of my thong revealing my cheeks and hiding only my asshole and cunt from his prying eyes. I teased him by shaking my ass at him, and marveled at his self-restraint at not attacking my saucy target. But he remained where he was, preferring to watch me rub my breasts into the Mayor's hands. One of my own hands slipped down my belly, and pushed the crotch of my panties deep into the slippery folds of my cunt. I'm sure the pirate could see the rounded mound of my cunt, split apart like an overripe nectarine by my probing finger. When I finally pulled away from the Mayor, I stood between him and the pirate, then reached under my short dress and pulled off my panties. Standing beside the pirate I wiped my wet finger across his lips and hung the skimpy piece of black nylon on the barrel of his gun. "Too bad you are more interested in your pistol than your sword!" I told him, then leapt away before he changed his mind. The brooding, silent types are the most dangerous when aroused. I could only hope that I had distracted him long enough for both the Mayor and I to escape.