Alice’s Ride

Disclaimer: All characters depicted in this story are aged up to 18 or older, regardless of their ages in the original source material. This work is a piece of fanfiction, intended for entertainment purposes only, and does not reflect the canon of the original story. Content is created for an adult audience (18+) and may include mature themes. Reader discretion is advised.

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Alice lingered at the tavern’s threshold, the air heavy with ale and sweat, lanterns casting wild shadows across the grimy walls. The Jack of Hearts sprawled at a corner table, his crimson tunic splayed open, a devilish smirk on his lips. She’d saved him from the Queen’s axe that morning—those blasted tarts—and now his hungry gaze snared her. The crowd’s clamor faded as he rose, offering a tankard of spiced wine.

“Drink, my sweet savior,” he purred, pressing it into her trembling hands. The scent swirled—cloves, cinnamon, a feral edge. She sipped once, warmth prickling her tongue, then deeper at his urging, and a third time, her head swimming as the heat bloomed within, dissolving her shyness into a curious, fluttering want she couldn’t name.

“You saved my neck today,” he murmured, breath brushing her ear. “I’d like to show my appreciation—if you’re willing.” His voice was a velvet trap. “I… suppose so,” she whispered, a soft, curious “yes” under her breath, cheeks flushed. His hand slipped under her skirt, unseen by the crowd, fingers tracing her thighs, then pressing against her damp panties. She bit her lip, a tiny “Mmm” escaping as he rubbed slow circles, her arousal soaking through. “So wet,” he teased, sliding beneath the hem, gliding along her slick slit. Her eyes fluttered, and she pushed against his fingers, a shy moan—“Oh!”—turning eager as pleasure sparked, new and thrilling. He plunged a finger inside, her pussy clenching, and she rocked forward, blushing but chasing the sensation, her gasps growing bolder.

He tugged her dress down, baring her breasts, nipples stiff. Cupping them, he teased—thumbs circling, then a pinch—her yelp high, “Eep!” The crowd leered. “Look at those teats!” a drunk hollered. Her mind spun. Why do I want this? It’s wrong, but oh, it’s wonderful. Leaning close, she whispered timidly, “Please… take me. I don’t know why I want it so.” Her innocent lilt trembled, a girl lost in newfound longing.

He stripped her fully, then himself, his cock thick and rigid. On the table, he lay beneath her as she straddled him, spreading her ass wide, her glistening cunt and tight asshole bared. “Let them watch,” he growled, guiding his tip to her entrance. She craved it, trembling with want, and took control, easing down onto him. His fat head parted her swollen folds with a slow, wet stretch. I need this so, she thought, squeezing him as she descended, marveling at the fullness, her pussy lips splaying around him. Each inch filled her, her breath hitching with naive delight, the burn exquisite. A soft “Mmm” spilled out as his length nestled deep, his balls brushing her skin.

He rocked beneath her, kissing her neck—a fleeting tenderness—before each thrust dragged out slow, then plunged back in, her juices dripping. “Goodness,” she whimpered, hips meeting him, tentative then bold, gripping his shoulders as she found her rhythm, her moans louder, still naive but drunk on pleasure. His hands spread her ass wider, her holes on display as he thrust deeper, the wet slap echoing. “Gracious me,” she gasped, breasts bouncing free above him. The crowd jeered—“She’s soaked!”—a coin clinking near her.

“Let me please you fully,” he murmured, gratitude thick in his voice, slapping her ass—crack!—the sting spurring her. “Eep! Oh my!” she squeaked, riding him fiercely, her cunt clenching as she pushed against him, exploring the heat. Her breath quickened, a flutter in her core signaling her edge; his thrusts grew erratic, his grip tightening—he was close too. He rasped, husky and low, “Will you have my seed?” She whimpered, eyes glassy, not knowing or caring what it meant—only nodding, frantic, a silent yes, yes, her body trembling with need, urging him deeper. Her climax surged—breath stuttering, walls pulsing—then erupted. She threw her head back, a shuddering “Ahh, yes!” as her pussy spasmed, gushing slickly over him, her thighs quaking with innocent ecstasy. He groaned low, a rumble deep in his chest, his cock swelling and throbbing inside her as he teetered on the edge. Then, with a sharp, shuddering breath, he burst, his warm, sticky cum erupting in thick, pulsing jets, flooding her tight, quivering pussy. She felt the heat spill deep, a delicious rush that overwhelmed her senses, her soft whimper rising as the messy creampie began to leak. It trickled out in slow, creamy rivulets, painting her trembling thighs, before pooling in a slick, glistening puddle beneath her still-shaking form on the table. The crowd clapped, one slurring, “She’s won the tarts now!”—a twisted Wonderland cheer.