by ANDREA SMITH
Sexy…no, I don’t think so.
Sighing, I turn in my seat and see that waaaay across the ballroom, my Playboy Bunny, Eva, is laughing as she wraps her arms around what seems to be Batman on steroids.
Has to be Marcus.
Damn, she was right. Her vagina found her cock in a room full of...well, either one or the other. Oh god, I need to stop drinking.
From the corner of my eye, movement catches my attention. The mute clown is alone, sipping some amber liquid all the while scanning the room, looking for someone, it seems. Our gazes catch and my stomach clenches, my palms became slippery from some kind of prehistoric physical reaction that can only be described as lust.
Clown lust?
What the hell was in my drink? There is no way my brain or vagina could be attracted to some kind of suicidal clown. His eyes narrow, his back straightens and the corners of his mouth threaten to tilt in the wrong direction as he peruses me. Wouldn’t want him to smile now would we?
I blink and think, "What the hell?" as I slip off the bar stool and make my wobbly way to the man hiding behind sad eyes and a painted frown. By god, I will make him speak so I can maybe figure out who he is.
As I stand directly in front of him, I lean in and try to use my best flirty voice, "You come here often?" I can’t help the grin that spreads across my lips at the cheesy, Neanderthal pick-up line.
The clown obviously doesn’t share my sense of humor as he merely tilts his head to the right and continues to stare at me before bringing his glass to his lips and taking a healthy sip.
"Oh, am I going to be only one having a conversation, here?” I ask with a slight slur. “I'm not sure this is the best place to imitate Charlie Chaplin if you have any hopes of getting lucky, Bozo.”
His response comes in the form of a gesture. I feel it before I see him actually move. A light tracing along my bare arm from my wrist to my elbow. A pause follows by a racing shiver down my spine before he continues his path up to my shoulder. I feel it in my tummy, in my nipples and right between my thighs where my pussy is suddenly wet with lust. My breath hitches and the clown smirks.
"Touché," I whisper, barely aware of the words that spilled from between my lips. The clown leans into my neck and blows out a warm breath across my skin resulting in an outburst of goosebumps.
Double touché. Point taken.
The man may have chosen a creepy costume, but there is nothing but sexy emanating from his presence. Have I ever been this turned on? Oh yeah. That's right---after watching hours of porn in the privacy of my own home.
In public?
With a possible stranger?
Nope. This is definitely a first. I suddenly find myself turned around with my back roughly pushed against the smooth wall. I am mesmerized; the man's eyes captivate my attention. It’s like a hypnotist on the Mentalist. The connection is broken when he leans in and runs the tip of his nose along the column of my neck. Reaching my ear and clamping the lobe between his teeth, his tongue flickers over it as though he were working my clit like a pro.
My muscles are suddenly loose, my knees barely able to hold me upright, my chest heaving with every ragged breath that I try to pull. I may be a feminist or, at the very least, an independent woman who in no way needs a man to take care of her, but at this very moment, I am incapable of adding two plus two.
My brain has retired and my body is in charge as it turns into a sex-craving entity all of its own. There are no words exchanged as I widen my stance, giving this guy easy access to my privates.
We are surrounded by people. The music is blaring and people are laughing, talking and even singing along to the songs. I don't give two shits, because my body is in high demand of an orgasm not brought upon by my own hand or any tool operated by my own hand, for that matter. Hell, my brain is in demand of some kind of pleasure source that doesn't involve me having to make decisions.
I want a fucking orgasm, goddammit! And if it takes a fucking clown to deliver it then, well, so be it! I’m not proud!
With my back flush against the wall and my front pressed against hard muscles from chest to thigh, I feel my eyes slowly close as my pelvis instinctively thrusts toward the source of undoubted pleasure. Gah! I am such a woman…and I fucking love it!
I wonder if he will kiss me. I wonder if his hands will grasp my face and force me from one side to the other as his tongue delves into my mouth, owning it like only a man can. I wonder if the green make-up on my face will smear onto the white of his own. Then I wonder why the hell I am thinking of the state of my make-up and costume when clearly I am making this guy hard, judging by the erection pressing against me.
Oh my.
One thing is certain, alcohol truly is a facilitator. Then it happens. Soft lips brush against my parted ones, the sounds around us suddenly vanish; the thrumming of the bass disappearing from my universe as the tip of his tongue licks a slow, deliberate path from one corner of my mouth to the other before breaking the contact for only a moment.
The next thing I know, his mouth is melding to mine, his tongue plunging inside my own taking complete control of the most incredible kiss I have ever experienced in my life. Jesus, Stuart really was lacking. Shame on me.
My hands fly up to his thick wig, clenching between the strands as my nails dig into his scalp. Our bodies slam together with a need so hard that I’m afraid I’ll float away with my vagina leading the way toward the heavens.
As though my thoughts have been projected on a screen, the clown's hands slide up on either side of my neck and stop their journey when they reach my face. His thumbs press against my cheekbones, tilting my head slightly to the right as his tongue plunges deeper, tangling with mine, possessing every moan that escapes our joint breaths.
I am so turned on that it seems my body has a mind of its own. I press my shoulders to the wall to get better leverage, as my hips push greedily toward his impressive bulge. When the clown stops kissing me, I can feel his ragged breathing. His eyes are searching my face now as though asking a silent question. He wants more but refuses to take it without some kind of permission.
I like that. It empowers me.
I can say no and he will back off, walk away even. Or I can say yes and dive into the unknown. Would he take me to a deserted room? Or maybe a dark utility closet? Maybe he will fuck me right here in a room full of people completely unaware of the heat generated from the mere touching of two mortal bodies?
I am shocked at the realization that I don't care. The only thing I want is to appease the need that is running rampant through my body. I need what he has under that costume, and by god, I will have it.
So I nod, my eyes never wavering. The alcohol I’ve consumed may have given me the courage to walk across the room, but my decision is solely mine, governed more by lust than alcohol.
The smile he offers at my permission has me clamping my teeth over my bottom lip, my eyes closing briefly with anticipation. That’s when I feel his thumb pressing my lip, releasing it from my teeth before he fuses our mouths together once again and kisses the shit out of me.
In one smooth move, my depressed knight in clown armor slips an arm under my knees, and lifts me, supporting my shoulders with his other arm. He carries me through the double doors leading to the hallway and the darkened corners of the Crowne Plaza. This is no fairy tale. I’m not going to some castle in the sky, but rather to a lightless, private area for the sole purpose of getting laid. Ha! So much for my witch costume not working. Take that, Eva!
After checking a couple of doors, all locked of course, the mystery clown finally finds a knob that yields allowing us entry. We are now in what seems to be a conference room. There are tables and chairs stacked up on the side against the walls. At the far end there’s a stage, which is where we are apparently headed.
My virile clown carefully places me on the wooden floor of the stage, which puts my mouth at the level of his strong neck. I want to lick his Adam's apple. I want to bite the pulsing point of hi
s carotid artery, clearly beating with excitement. I am sure my own heart has a similar, if not more aggressive, rhythm. My pussy is screaming for some attention. My nipples are practically poking holes into the thin fabric of my dress, even behind my lace bra. Strong, steady hands grip my ankles, fingers circling the thin bones as his eyes bore into my lust-filled ones.
As he slowly slides his way up my calves, he gently spreads my legs when he stops at the backs of my knees. Leaning back on my outstretched arms, I watch him, completely mesmerized by his erotic moves; gentle yet stern.
In this position, my dress barely covers my lady bits but, hey, who am I to complain, right? I can feel the warmth of my juices gathering at the lips of my pussy, my lace undies stopping them from freely pooling onto the stage.
I should be embarrassed, but all I feel is wanton, free, and sexually charged – and they are the most honest feelings I’ve had in forever. I feel like the sexiest woman on earth and that’s a hell of a lot of power.
Continuing their journey, the sad yet now completely enticing clown runs his open palms up my naked thighs until they reach the hem of my dress. My breath hitches, my mouth parts from the lack of oxygen as his long fingers curl around the black fabric and push it up and above my ass. Only a thin layer of lace separates my hungry pussy from his intent gaze.
The man is staring, mentally devouring my hidden places. I want nothing more than to feel his mouth sucking on my clit, his tongue fucking me like his life depends on it. I want his cock inside me. I need to feel full of him if it is the last thing I experience.
"Oh God…Please...I need..."
What do I need? His hand? His mouth? His cock?
What if he doesn’t even like what he sees? This is stupid. As I mentally berate myself for the predicament I’m in, I feel my entire body shift down before my panties are ripped to pieces and a hot breath invades the space of my pussy. I almost come on the spot. All of the anticipation has my body so tightly wrung that the one singular action of his mouth on my clit causes an overpowering outburst of sensations to take over me.
I can’t explain it. Hell, I really don’t want to at this point. With his hands on my inner thighs and his mouth eating at me as though I am his last meal, I let myself enjoy it. My legs are spread wide, my arms stretched out like angel wings and my hips bucking with every stroke of his tongue.
As the stranger laps at my folds, I can hear the noises from our joining and that only increases my desire. Suddenly, my hands fly to his head, gripping tightly as though my life depends on it to keep me grounded. My moans echo in the empty room, the muted music outside only increasing the tempo of his hungry moves. When he groans as his tongue spears straight into my pussy, I completely lose it. I scream my pleasure as the lightning of my orgasm explodes from the base of my spine and travels straight to my vocal chords. Panting, I wonder what will come next.
Regaining my senses, I lift my head to watch the man's next move when my eyes zero in on his mouth glistening with my orgasm, his white face paint smeared to hell.
The red that had circled his mouth is now completely blended with the white and me. It should have been disgusting, but it isn't. It’s hot as hell and I want more.
My eyes trail their way up to his intense lust-filled gaze, the ridiculous red nose still in place and I have no idea how that is possible. Biting down hard on my bottom lip, I say the words he needs to hear, "Fuck me. Please."
Jesus, who am I anymore? Have I been that deprived in my sex life to want a stranger, dressed as a clown no less, bury his cock deep inside me?
Apparently, that would be a solid yes.
He reaches over and rips off the black cat still velcroed to my shoulder. He tosses it aside with a smirk. Reaching into his back pocket, I realize the sad clown came prepared for a chance meeting with a slut. And yes, apparently I have won the grand prize and I couldn’t have been any more ready for it. Fuck yeah!
Pushing his pants down just enough to take out his hard cock, I gasp as I take in the sight of it. It’s only the second live penis I’ve ever seen. Color me impressed. Long and thick with veins that line the sides before reaching a plump head made specifically for porn stars. But there’s more. Bozo’s dick is pierced, and there are no words for just how erotic this is making me feel. For a moment I wonder how that’s going to work? I can’t take my eyes from his member.
I lick my lips, wishing we had time for me to wrap them around it and suck it hard and deep into my mouth. The thought made me salivate, the idea of it made me want crawl my way to him and bury that cock right down my throat. I may have been feeling brave at that moment, but the only movement I made was in the deep recesses of my imagination. Stuart had not been a big fan of blowjobs so I was guessing I probably wasn't all that good at it. Note to self: watch more BJ porn to improve my skills.
He knows I’m staring and I hear a soft chuckle, which causes me to move my eyes from his dick. With one finger at my entrance, my lover scoops up my wetness, and brings it to his mouth, closing his eyes and moaning as he licks every drop from his damp digits. It is the single most erotic gesture I’ve ever experienced.
Seconds later, silent clown is sheathing his dick and positioning himself at my entrance, but he doesn't enter me, opting instead to climb on the stage and fuse his mouth to mine in a mind-numbing kiss. In that singular moment, he owns my mouth, my moans, and my will to stop the inevitable pleasure that I somehow know he will be giving me. My only regret is not knowing who my mystery lover actually is. Right before he plunges deeply inside me, he whispers into my mouth, "Tell me to stop."
Is he fucking kidding me?
Hell no… "Fuck me. Show me what it's like to have my mind blown." The words come out in a breath because I’m so far gone to speak articulately. I need it. I need it now.
"Thank fuck," are his last words before I spiral in a wave of bliss and let pleasure completely consume me. We both groan as he thrusts deeply inside of me, his balls slap against my ass before he stills, letting me adjust to his size.
His impressive size. One of his hands reaches for my breast, bringing my dress up on one side. I arch into him, our lips a breadth apart, our moans mixed in each other's air, our need a palpable entity keeping our eyes fixed on one another.
It shouldn't feel so intimate. It shouldn't feel so right. If anything, I should be feeling shame and embarrassment. I didn't. I feel perfect. He feels perfect inside of me as he continues to thrust. Together, we have created a moment that exists in a parallel universe where our worlds will never meet and not knowing who we are means our lives will never be disrupted. It is perfection.
"Fuck," he breathes out against my parted lips. "Do you feel that?" I don't know how, but I know he isn't talking about his dick. Or the fact that I can feel his piercing tapping against a sweet spot I wasn’t aware I had until now. He is talking about our connection, all the while pushing into me, making an orgasm brew from that delectable spot he’s found deep inside of me.
As his thrusts increase in speed, my legs latch onto his lower back, my heels digging into his barely exposed ass. I wish I could explore every inch of his body, but all I want at this moment is to come as much as I want to see him lose control with me. I want to hear his voice as he explodes deep within me.
"Come. Now!" he growls from behind clenched teeth. And I do. Holy shit, do I ever. With my back bowed off the floor, my head thrown back, my mouth parted, a cry bellows from between my lips as I come. Hard. Even though my ears are ringing, I hear a muffled version of my scream coming from my lover, our pleasures ringing out in sync against the walls of this empty room.
I may have blacked out for a second because the next thing I know, the sad clown is wearing a smirk as he takes a tissue and wipes me clean.
Huh.
Then it hits me. What in the ever loving fuck am I doing?
My body shoots up, my mortification finally making its appearance. That’s when I push my way from him and slip off of the stage onto my feet. As I make a ha
sty exit from the stage area, I push my dress down to cover my now bare ass.
Jesus, I have become the epitome of the brainless hussies I often ridicule.
Nice, Peyton.
Real fucking smart.
For real, when will it stop? I’ve slept over the toilet in our hotel room all night. I’ve showered, drank my fill of coffee and water, but this hangover will not be ignored! There’s a permanent mark on my right cheek as a result of those intervals when I passed out, resting my face against my fist between heaving events.
Eva hadn’t come back to our room, so I can only guess she and Marcus have finally sealed the deal. There had been no one here to hold my hair back while I retched. Yeah, I’m pouting about that little detail.
I can’t raise my head enough to even grope around for my cell to see what the hell time it is. Hotels with no bathroom windows tend to make things timeless.
Just as I’m ready to see if my wobbly legs can carry the rest of me to the bed in the next room, the bathroom door opens and a grinning-like-I’ve-been-fucked-all-night Eva makes an appearance.
Her face loses the smile when she observes my disheveled state. “Wow, girlfriend. You need to wash that make-up off.”
“I showered,” I reply. “This green is me, I’m afraid. Compliments of too many Adios Motherfuckers.”
“Oh sweetie, can I help you to bed?”
“Is it morning yet?”
“It is, but it’s still early. Only six.”
“And where, pray tell, have you been?” I ask, knowing full well that Eva has done the walk of shame back to our hotel room. I, myself, did one apparently (and am having a tough time remembering it), but since I ended up in my hotel room and I didn’t know my lover’s name, was it still considered a walk of shame?”
She grabs one of my arms, helping me up. I flush the toilet and stop at the sink to rinse my mouth out a couple of times.
“Oh Pey, it was so fucking epic. Marcus made sweet love to me, it was almost like a song.”
