Song:
Playground
Love by Air
Scenario: by Angelpie, posted 11.29.02, Red & Yellow Door
We raced our bikes up to the door. Damnit! When is it going to be my turn to win? I swipe the keycard; we rush in, unlace our shoes, throw them in the pile . . . you know the drill.
We raced each other up the stairs. Apolo stopped suddenly. I wasn’t paying attention and almost landed on top of him. He is looking at one of the prints.
“Hey, this wasn’t here last time. Hey, that’s —”
I interrupted with, “It
must be new.” 
The print was kind of Cindy Sherman meets Helmut Newton. Two women standing in a kitchen, both nude except the little sheer 50s style aprons they have tied around their waists. It looks as if they had been baking and the photographer had caught them fooling around.
“C’mon, let’s go ‘Polo,” I said.
We walked through the first door we came upon — red and yellow plastic, kind of retro, kind of techno at the same time. We pushed the door open. We were at the counter of a fast food joint.
“Two quarter-pounders with cheese, some of those chicken strips, large fries . . . uhmm . . . What do you want ‘Pie?” Apolo asked.
“Jesus Christ on a Popsicle stick! That order will bog you down for a five days!” I replied.
“Man, I’m starved,” he said. “Oh yeah, and a strawberry shake, please. Now, what do you want?”
“Can I get some waffle sticks and a burrito?” I asked.
Apolo squeezed my hand under the counter as I looked around, checking the action.
Mr. Clean Cut was in the corner booth, reading his Holy Bible. A cute little Goth couple was feeding each other French fries. Joe Construction was gobbling his burger. Damn, he has some mighty fine arms. Apolo followed my gaze. He leaned over and buried his face in my neck, his hand slid down my back to rest on my ass.
“Number 69!”
Our food was ready. Apolo picked up the tray.
“Hey, let’s go eat out in Playland!”
“Sure, why not,” I replied, still watching the Mr. Construction’s arms.
We walked through the glass doors. It was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner. Which served no purpose except for pushing the smell of fries around in the stale air.
Apolo was deep into his food. He looked up as I pulled the foil paper top off the syrup. He paused mid bite, just watching me. I put the syrup down and he reached across and took my hand. He dipped my finger into the container, then glided it along his lips. He opened his mouth, drew it in with his strong tongue. His tongue swirled up and down, over and around my finger. I pulled my hand away slowly, then leaned over to kiss all the syrup off his luscious mouth.
Always done before me, Apolo
began to get fidgety from all those calories
now racing around in his blood.
“Why don’t you go play?”
He stuck his tongue out at me, then jumped onto the next table, ripped off his shirt, and started to swing his arms like he was skating.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked trying to keep from choking on my food as I laughed.
He jumped down and rambled over to the slide, walking up the thing with his hands on the side rails. His glorious ass displayed to perfection.
Does he know just how perfect that ass really is? No, I think not. Yes, I think so.
I finished my food, picked up his t-shirt, and walked over to him.
He was now hanging by his arms on the pull up bar, swinging back and forth. He slammed into me, wrapping his incredible thighs around my hips and squeezing. Hard. A low moan escaped my lips. The python meets the gazelle.
I looked into his eyes. A smirk played around the corners of his mouth. He squeezed harder.
“Damn, baby,” I whisper. “Just unhinge your jaw and swallow me whole.”
His laugh bellowed from the darkness inside. He released me and let his legs slide down my outer thighs. He pushed me into the netting and leaned in. Suspended. His hands traveled up and down my body. His kisses still tasted of strawberry shake.
“Hey, let’s go do it in
the bubble?” he said with childish glee.
He chased me up the stairs. I slid over into the bubble. After whacking his forehead on the lip of the enclosure trying to follow me, his spirit fell. Pride hurt, cursing like a sailor under his breath, I beckoned him to me.
“Ahh, baby, come here.”
I leaned over and kissed the welt on his forehead. My kisses trailed back to the land of milk and honey. His mouth never ceases to amaze me.
He took my hand and placed it under his shirt, and I traced around his belly button. In and out and around, my hand moved down to his zipper. I brushed my hand lightly over his swelling cock, constrained only by the stiff denim of his new jeans. The fabric smelled of milk and burgers. I looked into his eyes as he answered me with a low moan that vibrated within my chest. I replied with firmer pressure. His heavy lidded stare was my answer to proceed. The tip of his tongue darted from between his lips. I unzipped his pants and released him.
“Baby, fuck me, please,” he whispered. I knelt over him and lowered myself onto his oh so perfect cock. Sometimes he makes me feel like I have room for nothing else inside of me. No heart, no air, no soul. Just him, filling me up, making me perfect. I grasped onto his shoulders, my hair trailing down onto his chest. I swirl my hair over his nipples, as I watched them grow erect.
The thought of someone walking in on us quickened my pace. Apolo matched my movements, harder, deeper. A low gurgling sound escaped from his throat as his thrusting became more intense. I gripped him even tighter, milking him, draining him. My lips clasp onto his, sucking. Up and down, up and down, the bubble jiggling, about to burst apart. Panted expressions of encouragement. Go. Go. Go. I’m coming! Come! Come! On the brink, I could feel both of us. He threw his head back – a golden arch.
“Super size me!” he yelled.
Simultaneously, he crashed into me as we began to laugh crazily. We kissed and laughed as I absorbed all he had given. Then reaching down, knowing I was still in state, he manipulated me to a quick, but generous ‘gasm — my happy meal with a secret toy surprise.
Sticky, nasty, curled up with each other in the kiddie bubble, the charm of the place began to wear away.
“This place is kinda gross,” he said.
“Yeah, I feel so greasy and naughty. I need a bath.”
“Hey, I think I can help you with that!” he said as he jumped up pulling me him along side.
His shirt in his right hand, his left hand in mine, we left our dirty little playground behind.
“Bye,” we waved at the lady behind the counter as we walked out the red and yellow door.
“Have a great day,” she smiled back.
You’re the piece of gold, that flashes on my soul . . . You’re my playground love.
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