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(Sex at the Circus, continued...)
You had for the mob of men outside the trailer. They are jostling for position by the door and windows, calling out for Angelica and promising their love and allegiance. Some of them have flowers. As you get nearer, you see that some of them have boxes of chocolates, bottles of wine, jewellery. And here you are, empty-handed.
You hesitate, but the trailer door flies open and Angelica is standing in the doorway, up above the crowd, where she belongs, draped in a silky, black dressing gown.
“Victor!” she calls. “This way. I’ve been waiting for you.”
For the most part, the crowd parts for you. You push past a couple of reluctant pricks and then climb the stairs into the trailer. The men are open-mouthed. Angelica shuts the door behind you.
The trailer is dark. Some might say ambient. Candles burn at the head of a large bed, which, like Angelica, is also dressed in black. The air is heavy with the scent of incense, but even more overpowering is the smell of her. She smells sweet, like sticky fruit on mouths and fingers; and earthy, like spices with unpronounceable names.
You think all this as she leads you to the edge of the bed and hands you a glass.
“What is it?”
“A little something to help you relax,” she says.
It tastes like a full-bodied red wine, although thicker and darker.
Eyes peer in at you from all of the trailer windows.
“That’s disconcerting,” you say.
“They want to see the show,” Angelica says. “You’re not going to deny them, are you? You’re not going to deny me?”
“No,” you say and you drink her in as well as the ‘wine’. Her body is ultra-feminine, somehow obfuscated and yet accentuated by her long, silk gown. The material reflects the flickering light from the candles, highlighting her physical attributes. Long, long legs. Her flat stomach. The soft lines of her shoulders.
You knock back the rest of your wine and set it on the bedside table, which is when you notice that she hasn’t touched hers.
Outside, you can hear the crowd breathing. Their communal breath steams the windows and gently rocks the trailer.
“Lie down,” a voice says. It’s Angelica. She begins undressing you, button by button, clasp by clasp, loop by loop.
She doesn’t waste any time. She climbs on to your lap and guides your cock into the hot crevice between her legs. Maybe it’s the smell of her skin, but again you’re thinking about cooking, as though her pussy is an oven and you are the perfect combination of ingredients that she needs for for
“Stay with me, Victor,” she says, riding you gently. “This might help.”
She disrobes and sends her dressing gown across the room like a sail. A gasp comes from outside as you and the audience sees Angelica naked for the first time. Her nipples are erect and her tiny breasts dangle toward you, inviting you to touch them. You take them in your hands and then kiss them, while Angelica sighs and rocks on your lap. She takes one of your hands and puts the fingers in her mouth, sucking them one by one and then all at once. At the same time, her pussy seems to be getting hotter and hotter and wetter and wetter. The combination of sensations is delicious and you find that her movement on top of you is no longer enough to satisfy you and you raise your hips from the bed so you can meet her downward strokes with thrusts of your own.
“That’s good,” she says, eyes half closing. “That’s so good.” She even drools a little.
You slide your hand down between her legs and play with her while you fuck. She buries her face in your neck and is kissing you hard, biting. She grabs your chest and runs her fingers all over you. Then she’s licking you and nibbling at your nipples, which is alarming but pleasurable at the same time, like this whole night so far.
“I’m so hot for you,” she says. “Will you come inside me?”
No sooner has she said that than you know that you only a have 60 seconds at most before you come. Her pussy feels so good. Not too tight. Not too loose. Just perfect.
She sits back a little as she rides you, displaying the ridges of her abdominal muscles.
“I could go on all night,” she says, not missing a beat or a breath. “How about you?”
“Not quite ” you say from between clenched teeth.
She glances at the the faces at the window and eyes them up and down. She takes her little breasts in her hands and pushes them together, teasing the crowd, which roars with delight and frustration.
You, on the other hand, are about as far from sexual frustration as you could possibly be.
You get into a kneeling position and Angelica sits astride your lap. Her grip is vice-like and you love it. You’re as deep inside her as is possible and she whimpers every time you bounce her on your lap.
The muscles of your arms and back are burning, but that’s all at something of a distance, unlike her breasts, which are flat against your chest.
A few hours ago, she was on the high wire and now she’s on your lap taking you higher and higher.
You come and she gasps, the walls of her pussy contracting with the feeling of your cum inside her. She groans and rocks her hips against you and you fuck her for all that you’re worth, knowing that it’s all coming to an end now.
“Don’t worry, Victor,” she says, moaning. “This isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.”
You sit together for a minute more and then she climbs off you. She passes into darkness.
You sit on the edge of the bed, dizzy. The audience outside is looking at you with slack-jawed wonder.
You think that she’s fixing you another drink, but she’s busy with something else. It’s too dark to see.
You think it’s best to get out of here.
“Where are my clothes?” you ask, groggily.
“End of the bed,” grumbles Angelica.
You look, but all you see is a clown’s uniform; it’s black, with huge, white pom-pom buttons and a red nose that sits on top like a single cherry on a black forest gateaux.
“These aren’t my clothes,” you say.
“Yes,” she says, turning, and her eyes are as black as ash. “They are.”
You put on the ridiculous garments, thinking that it’s best to just get out of here now, because something weird is going on. It’s best to get home. Oddly, the costume fits perfectly.
Once again, the crowd parts for you as you exit, but this time everyone gives you a wide berth.
Staggering a little, you head away from the grounds of the circus, but for some reason you end up at another trailer. You turn around, walk away, and end up back at the same trailer.
This happens again and again.
Eventually, confused and disoriented, you find that the door is unlocked and so you go in.
Inside you see twenty-six clowns in various garb, sitting on wooden benches. They all look up hopefully, but then they see that it’s just another clown with a dying gleam in his eye, and they lose hope.