(Content warning: explicit sex acts, threats of violence, homophobic language)
We’re fucking roller coasters. We’re emptying our balls on theme parks and intellectual property. Universal Studio’s Waterworld getting pussies wetter than hurricanes since 1995. Supreme Scream drops that metallic dumpy every day, during COVID, and is loud. I want Captain Amelia from Disney’s Treasure Planet to call me a faggot at Space Mountain. Watch me wait in line at Six Flags and get more ass than a bullet train.
Sarah Connor punching my prostate after Terminator 2: 3D. Princess Peach riding the mushroom carousel. Hulk smashing my spine with every thrust of his green, uncut dick.
Mary Poppins.
Tiana from The Princess and The Frog pissing on my face. Stephen Sommer’s version of The Mummy doing breath play on me with his bandages. I got chased by Chucky one evening on park grounds, and my cousin defended me by threatening him. But I need to reciprocate. Get me a sissy or a damaged person with mommy or daddy issues, and I will do whatever it takes to break them. I will wear a plastic mask of my favorite Star Wars character while holding a knife, towering over my piece of meat.
I want glowing Na’Vi dick in 3D IMAX High Frame Rate with scent vapors. I may not be getting touched, but with the 3D glasses, I can at least imagine it. The roller coasters and stunt shows give me fleeting pleasures. I have to let myself believe, forget my other concerns for a little bit. Otherwise it’s a waste of admission.
Getting fed the idea of an experience I’ll remember for the rest of your life, and wondering if I deserve it. Before I get four cat dicks in me and stab you to death, do you remember your safe word? Your limits? My preferences? Have I peeled away enough manners and good will to get this far? Are you heard by me? Will you fuck me? Is there enough lube on my knife?
I want you.
Long Pale Road 