Carny - October 6
Welcome to my serial Carny! I hope you enjoy this little Halloween treat. New episodes will appear every day through October.
Step right up! For just a dime see wonders beyond imagining!
And maybe we'll let you leave with your soul...
Step right up! For just a dime see wonders beyond imagining!
And maybe we'll let you leave with your soul...
Start here for Part 1
October 6
The speakers crackled and the soundtrack hissed, but the only person in the tent who noticed was Andrea. She swiveled her hips and stroked her sides, bare from head to toe except for a skimpy bikini top over her pasties and a few feathers that covered her G and the trim triangle of hair at her pussy. She’d dropped her feathery fans a moment ago and with the revelation of her nearly bare body. The level of arousal in the tent rose ten-fold.
She slid her fingers under the edges of the bikini top, turning her back and rocking her hips as she pulled slowly at the knot that kept her tits from spilling free.
She turned again before the final snap of the ties, leaned over, jiggled, and winked at Copley before she pivoted again and released the string.
“How about some appreciation?” Copley called out and a handful of silver landed on the stage along with a few fluttering dollar bills.
Just off the raised stage, two carnies comforted and restrained Venus, the former dancing queen of Miss Fe’s troupe. Andrea winked at her fallen rival. Everyone in the tent knew the crown was hers now. As soon as she had stepped onstage, part of the three-girl chorus line, the boys in the crowd had gone crazy for her. The two early shows had ended with Andrea down to pasties and the G. She could’ve made a mint if she’d gone all the way, but Copley said the bulls here wouldn’t tolerate full nudity.
Dancing at night was so different from being Copley’s assistant at the afternoon and early evening magic shows. She admired his stage charisma and she loved how the crowds resisted him, skeptical and heckling at first, then won over, with her help, to applause and surprised gasps at his “magic”. He was good, but the relationship with the crowd was subtle. Dancing, on the other hand, was visceral and fed raw emotion that Andrea loved.
She closed her eyes, raised her arms above her head, rolled her hips as the bikini top fell away. She shook her tits, making the pasties dance. Every man in the tent wanted her. She felt fifty hard-ons as if they stroked her skin. She tasted the pearls of their arousal and embraced the imagined gang-bang, sharing a fantasy with them. Her skin sizzled with their lust. She drank it, a glutton for their adoration, wanting to give them more. Venus wouldn’t fuck them on stage, but Andrea would.
She turned, the pasties painful against her erect nipples, and did a slow grind to bring their gaze to her hips and pussy.
Rippling raw power flowed into her, the crowd’s collective growl of anticipation emboldening her. She wanted them all to fuck her, wanted them to come in their jeans and overalls if she couldn’t take them between her legs or in her mouth. She fucked the air, turned her bottom to the crowd and wriggled out of the bikini bottom, then turned back to them, the pasties and G intolerable barriers against their desire.
“How about it?” Copley yelled, but no applause came.
She knew what they wanted and reached for one of the pasties, peeling it away from the erect red peak of her nipple. The crowd made a noise of satisfaction, and she removed the other one, grinding again now as she reached for the string that held the little patch over her pussy, paused to tease, then removed it. The wetness on her inner thighs thrilled her. She had no breath. They were all hard for her. She knew some of them were coming. She felt it, grinding one more time as the lights went out everywhere except over the exit. In the crowd, someone had started a fight.
She descended the steps at the back of the stage, and Copley grabbed her, dragging her off the wooden stairs.
“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed.
The sounds of a fight, the crash of furniture, whistles and what sounded like fabric tearing.
She pressed against him, cupping his cock, thrilled by his hardness. Her lips demanded, breathing in his desire like air.
“Magic,” she panted as she maneuvered him into the makeshift dressing room behind the stage, already busy with his zipper.
October 6The speakers crackled and the soundtrack hissed, but the only person in the tent who noticed was Andrea. She swiveled her hips and stroked her sides, bare from head to toe except for a skimpy bikini top over her pasties and a few feathers that covered her G and the trim triangle of hair at her pussy. She’d dropped her feathery fans a moment ago and with the revelation of her nearly bare body. The level of arousal in the tent rose ten-fold.
She slid her fingers under the edges of the bikini top, turning her back and rocking her hips as she pulled slowly at the knot that kept her tits from spilling free.
She turned again before the final snap of the ties, leaned over, jiggled, and winked at Copley before she pivoted again and released the string.
“How about some appreciation?” Copley called out and a handful of silver landed on the stage along with a few fluttering dollar bills.
Just off the raised stage, two carnies comforted and restrained Venus, the former dancing queen of Miss Fe’s troupe. Andrea winked at her fallen rival. Everyone in the tent knew the crown was hers now. As soon as she had stepped onstage, part of the three-girl chorus line, the boys in the crowd had gone crazy for her. The two early shows had ended with Andrea down to pasties and the G. She could’ve made a mint if she’d gone all the way, but Copley said the bulls here wouldn’t tolerate full nudity.
Dancing at night was so different from being Copley’s assistant at the afternoon and early evening magic shows. She admired his stage charisma and she loved how the crowds resisted him, skeptical and heckling at first, then won over, with her help, to applause and surprised gasps at his “magic”. He was good, but the relationship with the crowd was subtle. Dancing, on the other hand, was visceral and fed raw emotion that Andrea loved.
She closed her eyes, raised her arms above her head, rolled her hips as the bikini top fell away. She shook her tits, making the pasties dance. Every man in the tent wanted her. She felt fifty hard-ons as if they stroked her skin. She tasted the pearls of their arousal and embraced the imagined gang-bang, sharing a fantasy with them. Her skin sizzled with their lust. She drank it, a glutton for their adoration, wanting to give them more. Venus wouldn’t fuck them on stage, but Andrea would.
She turned, the pasties painful against her erect nipples, and did a slow grind to bring their gaze to her hips and pussy.
Rippling raw power flowed into her, the crowd’s collective growl of anticipation emboldening her. She wanted them all to fuck her, wanted them to come in their jeans and overalls if she couldn’t take them between her legs or in her mouth. She fucked the air, turned her bottom to the crowd and wriggled out of the bikini bottom, then turned back to them, the pasties and G intolerable barriers against their desire.
“How about it?” Copley yelled, but no applause came.
She knew what they wanted and reached for one of the pasties, peeling it away from the erect red peak of her nipple. The crowd made a noise of satisfaction, and she removed the other one, grinding again now as she reached for the string that held the little patch over her pussy, paused to tease, then removed it. The wetness on her inner thighs thrilled her. She had no breath. They were all hard for her. She knew some of them were coming. She felt it, grinding one more time as the lights went out everywhere except over the exit. In the crowd, someone had started a fight.
She descended the steps at the back of the stage, and Copley grabbed her, dragging her off the wooden stairs.
“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed.
The sounds of a fight, the crash of furniture, whistles and what sounded like fabric tearing.
She pressed against him, cupping his cock, thrilled by his hardness. Her lips demanded, breathing in his desire like air.
“Magic,” she panted as she maneuvered him into the makeshift dressing room behind the stage, already busy with his zipper.
On to October 7
Copyright 2011 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Copyright 2011 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Posted by Angela Caperton at 10/6/2011 4:44 PM 
Categories: Horror, Carny, Angela Caperton, Erotica
Tags: Angela Caperton erotica horror Carny
Categories: Horror, Carny, Angela Caperton, Erotica
Tags: Angela Caperton erotica horror Carny
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