Gondola shagging

The gondola doors slide shut with a clank, sealing the small cabin in sudden, intimate quiet. The world outside shrinks to a bright rectangle of snow and sky before vanishing entirely as the cable pulls you upward again, slow and swaying.

Jamal holds you firmly by the hips to face the door, your back to him, mittened hands still clumsy and useless at your sides. Cold air kisses your sweat and cum slick skin, but the heat pouring off your body counters it. Your heavy breasts are free, nipples already painfully tight from the earlier tit-fucking and the constant throb between your legs. Dried and fresh streaks of his cum still glaze your ample curves, glistening faintly in the slanted sunlight that filters through the plexiglass.

Jamal doesn’t waste time as he bends you forward at the waist. Your mittened paws scrabble uselessly for balance. He yanks the suit down your shoulders in a single hard tug, peeling the glossy fabric past your elbows about your wrists, trapping your arms. They’re tangled and pinned against your sides. Another sharp pull and the suit bunches around your ankles. You can’t straighten. Can’t stand upright. Can only stay bent over, ass presented, legs slightly spread by the boots and the twisted fabric hobbling you. Your pussy is fully exposed now and you’re uncomfortably swollen and slick, your lips puffy and glistening from denied need and the fresh humiliation. The cool air hitting your wet flesh makes you clench hard enough to whimper.

Behind you you can hear the slow certain rasp of Jamal’s fly. You twist your head just enough to see his thick, dark cock springing free again, already rigid, veins standing out, the fat head nudging up the sensitive inside of your thigh. It slides higher, deliberate, painting a fresh wet trail to your quivering folds without yet pushing in. The blunt tip nestles right at your entrance, parting your lips just enough to tease. You can feel him. Your whole body screams for him to fill the aching emptiness. But you can’t move!

You try to rock backward instinctively, ****. “Fuck me… please!” His free hand clamps down on your hip, iron-hard, freezing you in place.

“No, little grasshopper.” The words are low, amused, edged with control. “This is my lesson. You need to learn who’s in charge.”

You freeze. Panting. Trembling. The gondola rocks gently with the cable’s rhythm, amplifying every tiny shift of his cock against your entrance. Seconds stretch. Your clit throbs in time with your racing heartbeat. Fresh juices drip down your inner thigh and coat his cock. You can practically feel him inside you already, stretching, claiming, ruining you for any other smaller cock but he holds you perfectly still, waiting your acknowledgment of his control. It’s fucking hot!

Finally you can’t take it anymore and you nod in capitulation to him. A frantic little jerk of your head. “Yes sir… you’re in charge. Please…”

Only then does he move in one long, relentless thrust. No preamble. No gentleness. He sinks into you to the hilt in a single smooth glide, your soaked cunt opening around him like it was made for exactly this. The stretch is overwhelming, burning, perfect, too much and exactly enough. You cry out, high and broken, the sound bouncing off the gondola walls. Your knees buckle but the tangled suit and his grip keep you upright, impaled.

“Fuck,” he growls, voice rougher now. “So tight. So wet. Been aching for this all morning, haven’t you girl?”

You can only whimper and nod in answer, head hanging, pigtails swinging. He pulls back slowly, agonisingly so, letting you feel every inch drag along your walls, then slams home again, balls to your ass. Harder and deeper than you could possibly imagine The gondola sways in counter-rhythm, amplifying each thrust so it feels like the whole world is rocking with you.

He sets a punishing pace. One hand fists your pigtails, arching your back further, forcing your tits to bounce free and exposed with every impact, pressing into the cold plexiglass of the door. The other stays locked on your hip, controlling the angle, making sure he hits that spot inside you that turns your legs to jelly. Wet slaps fill the small space, hot skin on skin, your arousal coating him, dripping down to where the suit bunches at your ankles.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear as he leans over you. “Bent over like a good little slut. Taking every inch while the whole resort could see if they looked up. You love it. Say it.”

“I love it,” you gasp, voice cracking. “I love it… fuck… harder… please don’t stop…”

He doesn’t. The climb feels endless and far too short. Your orgasm builds fast, coiling tight from the constant pounding, from the deep, claiming thrusts, from the sheer helplessness of being used exactly how Jo’s body craves.

Again shame fuels it. You were Jack once. Strong. In control. Now you’re just a dripping, pink clad fucktoy riding a stranger’s cock in a swaying gondola while cum from earlier still dries on your tits.

You come hard. Shattering. Your pussy walls fluttering and clamping around him, a high keening wail escaping before you can muffle it. Cum gushes, soaking his balls, dripping onto the rubber floor. He doesn’t slow. If anything he fucks you through it, drawing it out until you’re shaking, oversensitive, pleading incoherently.

When he finally follows, it’s with a low, animal groan. He buries himself deep and pulses inside you with hot, thick spurts that flood your needy womb. You feel every jet, every twitch. Your cunt milks him greedily, aftershocks rippling through you both.

He stays inside you for a long moment, catching his breath, letting you feel contented fullness and ownership. Then he pulls out slow, a wet sound accompanying the withdrawal. Cum leaks immediately, trickling down your thighs, mixing with your own mess.

He tugs the suit back up and you’re messy, sticky, ruined. He zips it to cover the evidence, the crotch is sodden with wetness and the scent of sex thick in the cabin. Your mittens and arms freed. Legs shaky.

The gondola near the top station. Jamal leans down, lips brushing your ear one last time. “Good girl. You passed today’s lesson.” A pause. The doors slide open to blinding sun and fresh powder.

Your legs barely hold you as you shuffle out, pussy still throbbing, full of him, leaking with every step. A well fucked grin on your face.