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Sex at the Circus

In every circus, large or small, there is always one performer who’s not really meant to be there. In the Griseldo travelling circus, it is Angelica.

Nobody knows where she came from. Nobody dares to ask.

She is introduced by the ringmaster and you watch her take to the ring in her black, sequinned leotard. The tightly-stretched material clings to her meagre frame. You can see her nipples through the shiny fabric and as she spins and curtseys with practised ease, you get a glimpse of her tight ass and beautiful long legs. She looks as though she was poured into that outfit. You’d love to be there when she takes it off.

Although the circus tent is filled to capacity, you managed to get a seat in the front row and Angelica’s brown eyes pick you out and linger on yours before she climbs the ladder that takes her up to the trapeze, affording you a wonderful view of her ass from below.

She sets off across the trapeze, lithe and graceful, her movements like that of a dancer.

Ninety minutes later, when the clowns, the animals and the music are all over, you are still hungry for more of Angelica.

You see her outside the main tent with a trench coat draped over her shoulders. Her black hair is silky and shines under the glow of a paraffin lamp. A mob of punters is trying to get a word with her, drawn to her like moths to a flame. Fellow performers, two strongmen who were bending metal over each other’s biceps and hitting each other with iron rods only minutes ago, keep the crowd from touching the young woman.

You push through the crowd of jostling bodies until you are standing right next to her bodyguards, but she still hasn’t seen you.