I was ready to end it all.
Here I was only nineteen years old and with a birthday tomorrow pushing me into middle age status at twenty. How did I allow myself to get so old so quickly? It seemed like I was just a silly virgin only four short years ago.
Not that I had a lot of sexual experience. I mean, yeah, a lot of hand action and I was pretty quick to get down on my knees with the slightest encouragement but I had rarely engaged in real sex sex with a guy.
In fact, after reading a lot of magazines and the like, I realized I probably had never had a real live orgasm and that was just pathetic when you think about it. Anyway, to make a long story short, my virginity was captured by my best friend's brother at a sleepover right after my 16th birthday. He was kind of a jerk but I was desperate to be one of the "in" crowd and not one of those geeky know nothings.
The boys in my school were mostly interested in "getting some" and not serious relationships, so I gravitated to a married guy across the hallway. I used to babysit his kids on the weekend while he and his old lady lushed it up at some silly party. Whenever his wife, a not unattractive blond called Dolly, was "out of it" with either too much booze or some weed or a combination of the both; he would pull my panties down in the hallway or in the bathroom and give it to me standing up from behind. I know it sounds real kinky but I got so used to it, I began to think that was the way normal sex was delivered.
I finally broke it off with him because he got too interested in going up the "Hershey" highway and my pooper was just too tight for that kind of foolishness.
My only other boyfriend was Rodney. He was the reason I was in this fix. Rodney was a real religious person. He came from a true believer's family existence and often carried a Bible with him even on dates. Sometimes when I was giving him a blowjob he would read from it and that struck me as real strange. We managed to "cleave" to each other a few times but he always insisted that we be fully clothed and that the lights were all turned off. He insisted that I not "fiddle around or move in any way" when he was doing it to me so I just would lay there and let him pump away until he drained all his juice either inside me or on me. It doesn't sound like much fun but it was better than standing up in a hallway or bending over a commode.
My problem with Rodney started when he told me he had to go on a mission to some crazy place in Africa to teach the pagans about the wisdom of the almighty. He seemed so caught up in the spirit of spreading the word that he told me it was probably for the best as I was far too "secular" for his taste. I got to look that word up someday, but it sounded like some kind of irreversible insult.
I am ashamed to admit I broke down in tears and begged him to take me with him, but he was having none of it. Even when I offered to let him do it to me in my backdoor, he just smiled at me and opened up his ever present Bible.
That was when I knew it was really over for good.
That was the reason why I was walking along the river's edge looking for a deep place to slide in and never come back up ever again.
I was almost to the railroad bridge over the Chattahoochee when I heard footsteps behind me. I looked over my shoulder and almost jumped the black, fast moving current right then and there. This guy was huge and was dressed like a frigging clown. I looked around but we were the only ones around in any direction.
"You thinking of going in the drink, honey?"
I realized my intentions were probably all too clear to any bystander.
"Just looking for a good fishing spot, Mister"
He threw me a disbelieving glance and pointed to a large RV sitting on top of the embankment.
"I'm heading into Natchez for a Clown Convention. We sort of mingle; get some jobs lined up for the season and exchange hot tips. Might be better for you if you come along with me instead of staying in this place.
I chewed on that for a minute and decided maybe now was not a good time to be checking out, since it was my birthday tomorrow.
We walked up to the RV and I saw what seemed like two small children also dressed up as clowns.
"My name is Benny. Benny the Clown. These two yahoos are Flopsie and Mopsie. I case you are wondering, Mopsie is the girl."
Benny laughed at his own joke. He had an irritating habit of doing that as I was soon to find out.
I could see that Flopsie and Mopsie were dwarfs, or midgets, or I guess I should say "little people" to be more politically correct. Their contrast in size to the huge Benny was funny just in itself. Despite my morbid and depressed state, I had to crack a smile.
"You got you a girlfriend, Benny?"
The two of them were itching to poke fun at Benny but a stern look from him and we all clambered on board with no added dialogue.
I was persuaded to dress myself up as a clown with a very appropriate sad face and the baggiest pants that drooped almost to my knees. Even with the droopy drawers, it was impossible to tell if I was a boy or a girl with the heavy greasepaint all over my face and head. My hair was bunched up inside of a thin rubber cap and I wore a curly genderless orange colored wig. When I saw myself in the mirror, my clown face smiled at how silly and ridiculous I looked.
It was amusing to me the way both Flopsie and Mopsie continuously managed to get their hands all over my bottom with the slightest opportunity. I really didn't mind and it didn't matter to me which was the girl and which was the boy. They were very naughty and free with their fingers and in all honesty, I found it to be quite pleasant.
Before we got to the clown jamboree, Benny explained to me that the gathering usually got a little loose and frisky at the end. He warned me that the clowns "hooked up" with each other in a sexual sense and that I should be prepared to "take it" if asked. He explained that the anonymous nature of the annual celebration excused the random sexuality and that it was all in good fun.
I was not quite certain about the wisdom of "taking it" under those circumstances but the prospect of the cold river seemed very distant at the moment. Admittedly, my pussy was tingling with a sense of anticipation of being subjected to clown-to-clown sexual kinkiness.
The party was a huge success. The food was great, the beer and wine was plentiful, and I was giggling and laughing at the sight of the clowns copulating in chairs, on top of tables and even on the hard wooden floor.
I asked Benny if he wanted to "hook up" with me as I thought it might be more pleasant with someone I already knew. He looked in the eye with a very sad face and admitted that he was unable to "get it up" due to an unfortunate accident in his football years. My fears of the size of his tool suddenly vanished and I wanted to do anything I could to make this big ugly hulk satisfied. He pointed to a tall, thin clown with silly duck feet and whispered,
"Bend over in front of Harry and he will "hook up" without a moment's hesitation. Just be sure to giggle and make funny noises. He is terribly shy and would not even think to approach anyone, so you have to put it in his lap, so to speak."
I did what Benny asked me and he was quite right. The anonymous clown called Harry had my sagging pants down along with my lipstick decorated panties before I could say a single word. The introduction of his long thin cock into my damp pussy was accomplished without incident. Several spectators were circled around us and I could see the way they laughed at my helpless impalement. I followed Benny's advice and continued to giggle and laugh as if I was in the middle of a crowd of merry-makers. I was down on all fours and the weight of the muscular clown pounded my padded bottom with a vigorous tattoo that delighted all the on-lookers.
I was so immersed in my laughing and giggling that I was slow to realize just how much I was enjoying my anonymous coupling in front of a horde of silly clowns. My orgasm snuck up on me so silently that when I started to go into the full body convulsions of total release, I still did not comprehend I was experiencing the first orgasm of my existence.
The four of us left the party in the wee hours of the morning. I had been "taken" by no less than four clowns of Benny's choosing. In each case, I had experienced the orgasms that had escaped me up to that point in life. Needless to say, I was one very sexually satisfied clown with creamy cum running down the insides of my legs beneath my silly baggy pants.
When we got back to the RV, Flopsie and Mopsie went into their tiny compartment and we could hear them grunting with the exertions of "little people" coupling. I could even hear them using words that you would never expect to pass a clown's lips. I was tired and I allowed Benny to undress me and sponge my sweaty body with a warm towel. He wanted me to keep my face-paint on for some unknown reason. I could see my naked body and my clown's face in the mirror. The greasepaint tears looked almost real in the small cracked mirror.
Benny's head was on my lap now and I could feel the short stubble tickling the insides of my legs in a pleasing and sensuous manner. I wanted to tell him that I didn't care he was not able to penetrate me the way a man is supposed to do to a woman. Before I could say a single word, he pushed his face deep into my well-trimmed bush and started to lick my womanhood.
"Oh, Benny! No one has ever done that to me. It feels so good. Please don't stop, my love."
.... There is more of this story ...