Riding the Dragon

Miranda Silver
16 mins read
Published 12 months ago

“You know there’s an amusement park nearby?” Susan lingers at my desk, fishing a Hershey’s kiss out of the glass jar. “We should have our next off-site there. It’s got one of those old-fashioned wooden roller coasters, shaped like a dragon. Apparently, it’s been around for decades.”

I peck at my laptop. IT just set it up, and I’m trying to navigate my new email. “Really? I haven’t noticed.” And an off-site at an amusement park sounds… childish.

Susan crinkles the foil wrapper. “You've hardly left this desk since you started! Didn’t you just graduate college? You should go out, get to know the area. You know, live a little.”

I glance through the fourth-floor window at the shimmering blue sky. Inside, the air conditioning has us wearing jackets.

“I never went to amusement parks as a kid,” I confess to Susan. “Not my family’s thing.” 

“Ilana!” She pops the kiss into her mouth. “You need to make up for lost time. Be young for a day. Ride the dragon. I hear there are stories…”

“What kind of stories?”

“Oh, you know.” Susan snags another chocolate and gives me a wink. “Stories.”

I laugh it off and go back to email.

But an odd feeling curls over my skin, raising goosebumps like the brush of a tail on my arm, my back. For a second, I think I see the flash of scales across my screen. But when I shake my head and look again, everything’s normal. 

For the rest of the morning, my focus is shot. Another peek out the window reveals kids across the street, waving clouds of cotton candy. When twelve-thirty hits and everyone emerges from their cubes, I don’t get my lunch bag from the fridge. Instead, my stiletto heels click down the hall to the elevator and I stride out the glass doors of our building.

Blocks before I reach the park, the aroma greets me: salt, grease, and sugar. The cinnamon of churros, the pepper of curly fries, and the faux-butter of popcorn all pull me toward the bright flagged gates. My shoes aren’t made for walking this distance, and by the time I reach the ticket window, I’m tempted to carry them. Stepping carefully, I buy a roll of tickets and pick my way through strollers and balloons. Kids are squealing, vendors are calling out their wares, and the excitement is overwhelming. The park teems with color, bodies, and noise. Coconut sunscreen saturates the humid air. 

A carousel flashes on the right, a prize booth on the left. Up ahead, an enormous dragon catches my eye, with people clambering aboard. I walk faster towards the dragon, my heartbeat quickening.

Up close, it’s painted in fiery colors. Beside the idling dragon, a man stands guard.

He’s young. How young, I can’t quite tell. As he walks along the dragon, checking the safety bars across the riders’ laps, his age changes depending on the angle. The soft turn of his mouth says eighteen; the squint of his eyes says thirty. 

I lean against the bright blue fence, staring as he tests the last bar and walks to the operating booth. 

Shaggy hair, dirty blond, falls over his tanned forehead and snub nose. He flicks some levers, and a flutter curls in my stomach. He’s so not my type. I go for adorable nerds, with recent haircuts and cute glasses. But as the dragon climbs, then drops with sickening speed, that flutter arrows down to my pussy. People shriek. He turns and I see his face.

Bored.

It’s incomprehensible, that deadpan expression below a load of riders in the throes of excitement. My stomach lurches along with the dragon. My breasts graze the fence, heavy and hot. God, my nipples are tight. When the dragon spirals through its last loop and a wave of screams rises up, my body spasms.

The man casually flips some controls and the beast, tamed now, slows gently to a halt along the fence. I’m panting. I’m flushed. I’m watching him for some sign that he gives a damn about putting dozens of people through this experience. As he supervises the riders exiting their carts, his eyes meet mine.

They’re grey, a startling contrast to his sunburned face. They flicker, and my muscles lock up. Inside my nylons and fancy thong, I’m so wet you’d think I already came.

After the dragon disgorges its passengers, he walks its length, checking the seats and readying it for the next ride. In the end, when no one but me is looking, he does the most extraordinary thing: he runs a big tanned hand over the dragon’s roaring head. His eyes meet mine again as his fingers trail along the bright body in an obvious caress.


The next day, I slip past close enough to see the name tag on his red polo: Chad.

The tip of a tattoo teases me from his shirt sleeve, green and writhing. It looks like a tail.

He delivers safety instructions in a deep monotone. Some of the riders scope him out; others pay no attention. All it takes is the flick of his wrist on the controls and the answering jerk of the dragon to get me throbbing and wet. It’s shocking and inexplicable and I glance around to see if anyone notices if anyone else is reacting to this beast and its owner. But nothing else seems out of the ordinary. 

Afterward, I linger, hoping to catch Chad in another tender moment with his pet. I’m rewarded when he cups its cheek.

That week, I go to the park every day on my lunch break. I blow my salary on corn dogs and funnel cakes. I buy a season pass, as if I’m planning to visit all summer. Every night, I frantically rub my swollen clit against the couch cushions in my studio apartment. I think about the man and the dragon, fucking me together, and my stomach drops like I’m whooshing down the roller coaster. I come hard, quaking with pleasure. Again. And again.


By Friday, I’m mingling with sticky-faced kids in shorts and T-shirts. The sun beats down and I smooth my tailored blouse, watching the dragon — dipping, hurtling, and soaring.

And I watch Chad tapping his fingers against the gearshift, bored. But then he twists around and catches me staring — my lips parted, my breath coming fast. Our gaze holds for far too long.

And just as the dragon dives into its last descent, silhouetted against the hazy blue sky, Chad turns back to the ride and his face breaks into a grin: pure, gleeful, and gorgeously uninhibited.


That night, I stay late at the office. When sunset touches the horizon, my feet lead me out the door and down the block.

I’ve never been to the park at night. 

“We close in fifteen minutes,” the ticket taker announces as I flash my pass. Stragglers heading to the exit eye me as I make straight for the dragon. All the carts are empty, each one slumbering by the forsaken pathway, and I’m hoping for a peek up close. 

“Want a ride?”

I jump. Chad is standing behind me. He points to the roller coaster, still and silent. 

My heart drums in my chest. My stomach flips. He steps closer, almost inside my personal space, and I spot a tan line at his shirt collar. Veins trace his forearms. He smells like salty popcorn. 

“You’ll have it all to yourself,” he continues. 

I stare at the tip of the tattoo on his bicep, beckoning me to push up his red shirt sleeve. In turn, Chad takes in my wilted white blouse; my pale blue pencil skirt; my kitten heels. The clothes cling to my curves, damp with sweat. My dark curly hair spills over my shoulders.

“I’ve never been on a roller coaster,” I admit in a rush. “They freak me out.”

A spark lights his eyes. “How’d you get to be a grown woman and never ride a roller coaster?”

Heat slaps my cheeks. A grown woman. I’m out of college, but everyone else still calls me a girl. 

“I’m not a risk-taker.” 

His lips — that’s what makes him look young. They’re soft. They promise heat. If he leaned down and kissed me right now, opening my mouth with his tongue…

Chad opens the gate, and the click echoes through the empty park. “Go on.” He cocks his head. “If you’re so curious, try it. As far as risks go, this isn’t a big one.”

“Will you be watching?”

Dimples wink in his cheeks. “That’s kind of my job.”

My heels tap the pavement, buoyed forward by nerves. The dragon leers at me. Footfalls behind me make me start, and I whirl around, the dragon at my back.

“You’re jumpy,” Chad says. “You sure about this?”

I finger my crumpled collar, pulling it away from my damp neck. He surveys me, lingering on the curves of my breasts. My nipples are painfully hard. 

“Yes,” I breathe. 

“Then what are you waiting for?”

His deep voice grips the excitement in my belly and nudges it lower. My pussy aches, and my panties are already soaked. I look at the empty cart, then at Chad. Light hair falls over his tanned forehead.

“You okay?” he asks. There’s something hypnotic about his tone, as if he’s weaving a spell. It’s followed by a low murmur in the air, a rustle, and though I know it’s only the wind in the trees, it feels like the dragon’s waking up. 

Fuck it. I don’t see a single soul behind him in the darkening park.

I want to bring that gleeful grin back to his face. I want to take a bigger risk.

My heart pounds as I go for broke. Holding Chad’s gaze, I unfasten a button on my blouse. I hurry to undo the next before I lose my nerve, fumbling with it. Then the next. The dragon’s murmur got me started; Chad’s startled smile keeps me going. My fingers shake when I expose my breasts in their delicate lace bra. Shrugging the silky fabric away, I drop it in the cart.

His blond eyebrows lift. His eyes aren’t bored now. They’re lit with hunger.

I can’t tear my gaze from his. “If someone sees—” 

“It’s just you and me,” he says softly.

I balance one foot on the step, teetering on my narrow heel, and reach for his hand. His grasp is warm, firm and hard. He helps me onto the bench and leans over me, buckling my seatbelt and setting the safety bar in place. His hands brush my hips, and I suck in a breath.

Grasping the bar, I watch his retreating back. Broad shoulders narrow to a hard waist and a deliciously compact ass in his park khakis.

He starts the roller coaster, and the earth drops out from under me.

The dragon picks up speed at a terrifying pace, and I yelp without meaning to. I’m shaken, rushed, zoomed, and completely out of control. The laws of life as I know it no longer apply, and it feels — incredible. Thoughts fly out of my mind. It’s like I don’t even have a mind.

I forget all about work and my apartment and everything else outside of the amusement park. Everything’s dropping, jerking, turning, hurtling. And then it ends.

The bar lifts. My throat’s hoarse — was I screaming? I slump in the seat, soaked with sweat, my heart pounding, my pussy sticky, cursing my pencil skirt for not giving me much room to spread my legs.

“You all right?”

I feel a hand on my knee and another hand on my head, anchoring me. 

“Oh my God,” I croak. Fingers brush my chin. Adrenaline grips me in a sudden spasm of arousal, and the release of tension makes me giggle uncontrollably. “I want another ride.”

“Already?” He grins — a big, white, honest-to-God smile. The fine lines around his eyes crinkle. 

“There was something I was going to do, but it — didn’t happen.”

Chad’s gaze roams over the pale swells of my tits in their sheer bra. Behind him, strings of lights swing from the tents. He adjusts his pose so his wide torso blocks me from view, and when he speaks again, his tone is gruff. 

“What were you going to do?”

“This.”

Taking a breath for courage, I unclasp my bra. Expensive lace falls away from my sweaty breasts and hits the seat. The cool night air puckers my nipples.

“Now you’re getting risky.” Chad’s voice is rougher. I want to bite his full lower lip and never let go. “That’s a pretty bra. It would be a shame if you lost it on the ride. People lose a lot of things to the dragon, and she’s happy to have them.” 

“She?”

“You thought she was a he?”

“Well… yes.” My nipples are tight buds, aching for his touch. 

He gives me a crooked smile. “What was going to happen next?”

“Nothing,” I breathe, “because you have to work the roller coaster. You can’t ride it with me.”

He rests an arm along the safety bar and a drop of perspiration trickles down his forehead. “I’m on it with you now.”

I squirm on the plastic seat. “This. This happens.”

I take his hand. It’s so damn warm, big and calloused. When I bring it to my breast, I swear the dragon rumbles.

“Fuck,” he mutters and squeezes my soft flesh.

Oh, God. It feels incredible. He rubs my puffy nipples, pinching them lightly between his fingers. He’s going slow, but his palms are rough on my skin. I moan.

“We turn you on, don’t we?” he whispers. “Me and her.” 

I give a jerky nod. He leans down, and my lips part for the kiss I know is coming. Soft, sticky, seductive.

Voices break out behind him in the dark, passing the entrance for the roller coaster, and I freeze. 

“Go,” Chad urges, low. “Over the edge. Jump. I got your back.”

Heart pumping, I grab my blouse and bra, hike up my skirt, and hitch myself over the side of the seat. I stumble when my heels hit gravel.

I’m in the interior of the roller coaster. The dragon’s path curves around me, climbing to the stars on wooden trestles. Beyond, trees stir in the breeze. As Chad jumps down and pulls me close, the coaster’s spiral seems to tighten in the swinging lamplight, enfolding us. 

Silk and lace flutter to the ground. His kiss is hot and hungry, his lips anything but bored. My fingers thrust into his shaggy hair until he spins me around, my back to his chest.

A hand snakes down my bare belly and pauses at my waistband until I buck my hips. His fingers slip inside my pencil skirt, into my soaked thong, and slide straight to my clit.

This is crazy. We could get caught. He doesn’t even know my name… 

“What’s your name, baby?” A thumb presses the little bud as his fingers open my pussy.

“Ilana,” I breathe.

“Ilana.” He lingers over the syllables, circling faster. “Beautiful, like you. You gonna come for me, Ilana?”

“Ye-e-es…”

“Chad!” a male voice calls. “Are you back there?”

My nerves hum with fear and excitement. I squint in the darkness, but see no one.

“Yep.” Chad’s reply is laconic. His arm locks on my waist. His cock juts against my ass, confined in his pants, as his fingers work my swollen flesh to a fever pitch.

“Everything okay with the dragon?” the guy asks.

“She’s all right.” Kisses trail down my neck as Chad works a third finger into my fluttering pussy. I’m tight, pressure building deep inside. His erection grinds into the soft globes of my ass. I rock on his hand, whimpering, and he shushes me.

“Just take good care of her.”

“I always do.”

“He can’t see us, can he?” I whisper, excited beyond belief. Chad’s muscled arm is an iron bar on my waist.

“Nope.” He sucks on my neck, and my head goes light. “But she can.”

The tension snaps and bursts. My pussy contracts again and again, juicy and hot in his hand. I’m barely aware of Chad pulling on my tender nipples, fondling my breasts, thrusting his fingers into me as I tremble and quake.

“Enough,” I finally gasp. When he eases out, I whirl and grab his red polo, peeling it off, staring at the dragon on his skin as it stalks up his shoulder. It’s flaming. Menacing. Arousing. 

His pants swoop down in my hands. And, oh, his cock. It’s carved and beautiful, stretching toward the stars. I drop to my knees, heedless of the gravel, stroking the silky hardness and licking up the pearly drop that clings to the tip. But before I can give it the attention it truly deserves, he’s hauling me up, unzipping my skirt, asking if he can take off my pretty panties.

“Don’t you like them?” I tease, my voice a rasp.

“I want her to see all of you,” he whispers.

I shudder and let him strip me naked. He scoops me up, his skin hot against mine, and carries me to the front of the roller coaster. The head of the dragon.

With a “hold on tight,” I’m draped over the dragon’s huge head, clutching the top. My feet dangle above the ground. My wet thighs are spread, my ass tilted up. My aching breasts press against molded flames. A bulging eye stares at me.

I moan. “Please…”

I hear the rip of foil and watch over my shoulder as Chad sheathes his cock in latex. Stroking my pussy, he opens the folds, staring hungrily at my soft curves splayed over the dragon.

Then he sinks in. The plunge is sudden, pulling a yelp from my hoarse throat, and my stomach drops with the same shock of excitement that the ride gave me.

He fucks me slowly, then faster, picking up speed, pinning me down with a strong arm across my waist, his breath quickening through all the noise I’m making, until suddenly he pulls out.

“What are you doing?” I gasp.

“Sharing,” he grunts. As he massages my pussy, fueling my need, I understand. I want to share too. Chad looms behind me, fisting his beautiful cock, the condom discarded. His hand is a blur. 

Hot cream splashes my skin. He cums in spurts, aiming his cock at my upturned ass and the head of his beloved dragon. As I gasp for breath, he leans over me, eyes half-closed, working my sensitive clit.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers. “Come for her.”

I’m so far gone. Cum trickles down my thighs. Fingers open my lips, and I cry out with pleasure, my voice faint against the dark sky and watching stars.

“Yes,” I pant.

“Give her what she needs, Ilana.” He massages my clit, cupping my face with his free hand and pushing more fingers into my mouth. I suck feverishly. His body covers mine, hard and heavy. “She’s been waiting for you.”

He’s everywhere, outside and inside me, thrusting, penetrating, moving. Blood rushes through my veins, pulsing and fiery. Sweat makes the dragon’s head slick beneath my belly, and I’m sure I feel scales. She growls underneath me. When I finally come, her flaming colors explode.

“Stay there,” Chad murmurs, as if I had any inclination to leave. I’m too worn out to stir. Softness brushes my back and thighs — his red polo. He cleans me up, then the dragon. Something kisses my shoulder, almost like the wriggle of a tail, and I shiver. “Mmm, delicious.”

I slide down the massive creature’s head to the ground, the night air cool on my sweaty skin. “Why do I feel like we just had a threesome?” 

Chad gives my ass a pat. It’s the kind of tender caress I’ve seen him give the dragon — caring and a little possessive.

“You wanted both of us. You got us.” 

As I step into my skirt and blouse, my mind whirs with more questions. 

“So… what happens if I come back? Will I see you working the levers and looking bored? Will you offer me as a tribute to the dragon? Or will you be gone? And when I ask around, they’ll say, ‘Well, there was a Chad who worked here a century ago, and they say he haunts the park—’”

Chad’s laughter cuts me off. He zips his pants and buckles his belt. Then he takes my face in his hands, and I can’t help but lean in to give him a butterfly kiss. The dragon sleeps behind him. As with her, the fire in my body is tamed — for now.

“Come back and find out.” 

MS
Written by
Miranda Silver

Miranda Silver is a writer, musician, and inveterate daydreamer. She's loved naughty stories since stumbling on a copy of Anais Nin's 'Little Birds' at an impressionable age.