Love of a Circus Clown - Part 1

 

“You’re just a clown.” Monique says and laughs at you as she turns away dismissively.

“But you’re so beautiful and amazing.” You say, looking at the back of her sequined costume that clings so tightly to her sexy aerialist body.

“I know. Why did you ever think you had a chance with me?” She responds without looking back.

You want to reach out, but her comment “You’re just a clown” feels hurtful and mean in a way you didn’t expect. You drop the flowers that you brought for her as you walk back to your trailer. You blink away tears. Men like you don’t cry. “What was I thinking?” you mutter quietly.

That’s easy. The 22-year old trapeze artist, you have watched for years, turned you down. Yes, she’s a little older than you. But you’re 18 now. You’re going to work the circus full-time this year. You even put on a suit, washed off the grease paint, and bought her some flowers. You waited for her, near her trailer, to see her at the end of her show. But she just laughed in a way that you hadn’t expected to hurt.

This year was going to be so good. You finished school and your family agreed that you will tour full-time, instead of the “summers only” you had done for most of your life. “You’re just a clown” shouldn’t hurt. It’s true you are a clown. You’re a clown from a family of clowns. Your family is so much a part of this circus, that they, along with others, have a house in the town that is joking called “circus city”, the old winter quarters for the circus when it was seasonal. During the school year you and Katya both attend school. During summers, both of you toured and practiced your act together. Two teens who could do all the physical jokes and pratfalls older clowns couldn’t do anymore. You lived with your grandparents so you could go to school and have a mostly normal life. Katya’s aunt and uncle’s house was her home for the school year. Katya or “Kat” as you think of her, is so much your partner, like a sister. Your families had you both train together, learning gymnastics, judo, and juggling. You shared the same trailer until you got to the age where little separation might be good for two hormonal teens. You shake your head at that. There’s nothing desirable about Kat. She’s wiry and strong. She can juggle while riding a unicycle, then get on your shoulders and ride you. There’s nothing sexy about Kat.

Not like Monique. She and her family fly through the air. Her firm, shapely breasts and tight ass look so amazing in her costume. She flies so effortlessly. Many nights you fantasized about feeling her breasts. Sucking her nipples. Licking her pussy. You stroke yourself, wanting to have passionate sex with her. Yes, she is an angel flying, while you are on the ground, getting hit with pies and clubs thrown by a girl who has the shapeless outfit of a white starfish.

“Dammit. Aren’t I good enough?” you say aloud.

You imagine your grandfather answering. “Not yet. Practice your falls. If you fall wrong, you’ll get hurt, and a hurt clown can’t work.” Your grandparents told you stories of great clowns of the past. “Clown culture is part of you. You’re little friend Katy, her family have been clowns for generations too. Her Uncle did a knockabout act until he had to retire.” 

“You’re just a clown” The phrase echoes in your head again. “I’m not just a clown.” you say aloud to yourself.

“What’s wrong with being a clown?” a soft familiar voice asks from the shadows around your trailer. Katya steps into the light, still wearing her white costume and painted face.

“Hi Kat” you say, as you sigh.

She sits down on the steps of your trailer, “So what’s wrong with being a clown?” she asks again softly.

“Nothing of course. It’s just Monique said….” You feel your throat tighten as you feel sadness and embarrassment flood you. You feel your eyes water in frustration.

Katya stands up and hugs you. You bury your face in the soft cotton of her costume. Her chest feels so firm against your face. Her hand caresses your hair. “It’s okay. I’m here.” She says softly.

“But you aren’t who I want.” You say unthinkingly.

“I know that’s true. Though I wish it wasn’t.” she responds, still holding you.

“Oh God, what did I just say?” you ask as you raise your head and look into her pale eyes. “I didn’t mean…”

She looks directly at you. “Yes you did. You have been wanting Monique since she got tits.”

You feel embarrassed again. “It’s not like that, Kat.”

“Yes it is. Every time you watched the ‘flying floozies’, you got hard. Your focus wasn’t on us. It was on her.” Katya’s voice is rising a bit.

“Let’s go in.” You say as you unlock your trailer.

She follows you in, sits on a stool and says. “You are a thoughtless prick.” You’ve never heard her talk to you like that. You try to respond but she puts her hand to your mouth. “Look at you. You aren’t even in costume. You finished the show, changed into this..” she says pointing dismissively at your suit, “You look like a townie.”

“I just want..” you try to say.

“You just want to fuck a woman that every man wants to fuck. I’m not surprised. She’s good looking. But so is any whore in a tight outfit. For all of that, go fuck a dancer.”

“Is that what you want? Me to be with one of the dancers?” You ask in a confused tone.

“No Dammit. I want you to want me.” She says standing up.

She unzips her outfit and you see her black leotard underneath. It clings tightly to her body and accents her in a way you’ve never noticed. The nipples on her small breasts are so visible. How have you never seen them before? Your eyes continue down her flat tummy and toned hips. Those thighs that have been on your shoulders, countless times, look so smooth. Between the tone of her voice and the sexy shape of her body, you are visibly hard.

“Oh Kat.” You say as you take a step forward.

Katya grabs her costume and heads for the door. “Jerk off and get some sleep. You can’t have me until you see and want me.”

The door to your trailer slams loudly and echoes in the night. You want to chase after her but stop. “What have I done?”

In your bunk, you try to get rid of your hard-on by fantasizing about Monique. Angry, hard sex. But then you imagine Kat’s shape. Her smooth skin, hidden by her costume. Those hard nipples you’d never imagined before. Her mouth, normally covered with greasepaint, sucking on your cock, like a girl in a porn video. As you cum, guilt creeps into you. “You just fantasized about fucking Kat. I’m so messed up.” You roll over and hug your pillow. “I’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”

(Come back tomorrow for Part 2. If you enjoyed this, Leave me a comment. If you like my writings, Follow and Subscribe. See you next time.)