od 5,70 zł w Klubie Mola Książkowego
Excerpt:"Open your eyes and take a good look!" he taunted between guffaws and grunts, " 'cause from here on out, baby, you belong to the carny world! It's gonna be every cunt for itself and the Devil fucks the hindmost! You're gonna be everybody's cumquat, Angel Face, for six shows a day!"His voice was growing louder and louder. He had the advantage and he knew it. He could rape her, kill her if he chose... but he would never force her to become the thing he talked about. She would never join his terrible stable of freaks, never! She raised her eyes and stared over his shoulder, careful to avoid looking directly at the naked flabby hulk that hunched cruelly above her. She could hear his heavy breathing, the laboring self-induced pleasure of his hand upon his own cock. He wanted her to look at it, waited for her to look at it, coaxing the tight-stretched meat to its greatest size."See, baby, see?" He held the slug-shaped creature up for her reluctant eyes. "Suppose that cute little fuzzy of yours could swallow all that?"
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"See the world's largest collection of sexual curiosities!" The barker continued in a loud nasal twang, waving the crowd closer with both hands. "No fakes, no phonies, each and every one a genuine live human being like yourselves... hahaha, well, not quite like yourselves, hahaha... or you wouldn't be here, would you?"
Angela raised her eyes to the figure nearest her, an enormous Negro, a giant of a man with great bulging muscles and oil-shiny black skin. He stood spread-legged, an A-frame of sensuality, his powerful arms crossed upon his chest. There was only a crude leather loin cloth to cover his naked body, and Angela could easily discern the "world's biggest penis" as it swung loosely, obscenely, beneath the scant garment. Quickly she averted her eyes.
On the far left of the platform, a tall skinny man in flesh-colored tights and calf-laced sandals stretched himself into lewdly suggestive positions before the eager eyes of the late show audience. Feet locked behind his head, eyes closed in feigned ecstasy, he rubbed his face over the guilty bulge of his own open crotch. Angela shivered with excitement. If he went this far outside the show tent, she thought, what must he do behind the curtained doorway? She felt a blush rising in her cheeks, dropped her eyes, and tried to concentrate on the barker's incessant spiel.
"See 'em, feel 'em, prove to your own satisfaction that everything you see and hear inside the main tent is absolutely, unbelievably true!" He leaned across the ticket booth ledge, winked broadly at the crowd, whispering into the mike confidentially. "Men, I guarantee you a refund if you aren't sporting the biggest erection of your life before the show's over! And ladies, I promise you there won't be a dry pair of panties in the house! Now who's gonna be first? Only a dollar a ticket, and you know the old saying--'first cum, first served!'--hahaha, little carnie joke, folks. Yes sir, one ticket. Thank you, sir. Go right on in. Just lookin' is worth twice the price you paid... and the show begins in only ten minutes. Hurry, hurry, hurry!"
Angela's eyes returned to the stage and the once-pretty blonde girl with tired eyes and too much make-up. One hand rested on the glittering harness of an enormous Great Dane, the other on the halter of a Shetland pony. She stared over the sea of heads with hollow eyes and a practiced smile, unkempt and uncaring, as the dog nosed at the panel of chiffon between her legs and sniffed audibly. Angela watched, fascinated, as the animal's pointed penis eased out of its sheath of belly skin. It bounced obscenely £ach time he moved, ripe and ready between the hairy haunches. Angela wondered what it would feel like. There was a sudden throb in her loins, the frightening heat of unexpected desire.
"One dollar, ladies and gentlemen, only one dollar to see the little lady perform with her animal lovers!" The carny ballyhoo continued its lewd sing-song. "... and take it from me, Mother Goose never had it so good. When this dog sits up and begs, he brings his own bone!"
The man's patter was crude, but effective. Angela licked her dry lips and drew in a deep breath of the clear night air. She could hear the dog snuffling loudly beneath the billowing chiffon panels. Sometimes he whined and licked his jowls. Angela stared, intrigued. She had seen a dog's penis before... but never when it was stiff with human excitement as it was now. It was a stifling thought, the girl... and those animals...
Angela let her gaze shift to the Shetland with guilty stealth. She gasped aloud. The size of it! The stallion's blunt-nosed penis swung heavily beneath his belly, thick and fat and eager for the woman. Her eyes grew wider. It hung down a good ten inches, damp pink meat mottled with dark patterns along its length. Angela looked from the pony to the girl's lean hips... and wondered. It was so large!
"Money-back guarantee, ladies and gentlemen, you have never seen anything like it! I give you my word. Would I lie to you? Me, Charlie Saeller, owner of the world famous Saeller Sex Sideshows? Would I lie?"
Angela stood still and let the crowd surge past her. She hesitated, fingering the clasp of her purse. The Viscount Vacation Tours had not provided the three weeks of romance and excitement promised in the travel folders. In fact, they had been three of the dullest weeks in Angela's already dull life. She sighed, stared at the ticket booth, and argued with herself. It wasn't the kind of a place a girl should go by herself. On the other hand, why not? It was better than returning to the hotel for Viscount Tours' farewell bash, the warm champagne and cold goodbyes of the last night on tour. Angela was determined to have one exciting memory to take back with her, even if it was no more than a flea-bitten carnival sideshow. It was probably a gyp too... but at least the barker made it sound exciting.
"Tell ya what I'm gonna do... " He picked up the hand mike and walked along the stage, staring with pseudo-suspicion into the crowd. Then suddenly he leaned over and motioned the crowd closer. "I can tell you folks are on the square. Ole Charlie Saeller can spot a tailer in a minute, and you're all clean. Tell ya what I'm gonna do... this is our last performance, we pull the tents tonight, so I'm gonna take a chance and give you the special show! We don't usually spiel it on the outside, if ya know what I mean, cause we don't need the gold-button boys down our necks but we got something the likes of which you ain't never seen! We usually charge an extra five clams but for you folks tonight, it's on the house. Okay, who's next? Who's next?"
"What kind of a show, buddy?" a voice jeered from the audience.
"What kind of a show, the man asks. So I'm gonna stick my neck out and tell ya. Every handsome man and every beautiful girl in Saellers Sideshow is gonna take part in the big finale... all at once!" The pudgy little man straightened up, replaced the hand mike on its stand, and tugged at the gaudy red-and-white striped vest. "Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you in all honesty, where else can ya get a deal like that? Even Sadie Thompson charged two bucks a roll... and I'm giving it all to you for one lousy buck! One wrinkled dollar bill is all that stands between you and the sex secrets of the ages. Yes sir, four tickets. And two for you, sir. You wanna go through life in the kindergarten of sex, that's your business. You wanna learn the real facts of life, that's my business. That's what I'm here for. Thank you, madam, go right on in... the excitement starts in less than five minutes!"
Angela winced inwardly. Excitement--he had hit a sore spot. She opened her purse and fumbled within. Two laughing couples jostled into line ahead of her. Angela waited, dollar in hand, blushingly aware of the Great Dane's gross penis dangling scarcely two feet from her face upon the platform.
"All right, little lady," the harsh voice of the carnival barker jarred her thoughts back into focus. "Don't hang back. Don't be embarrassed. Knowledge is the catalyst of life. Every pretty young girl should be educated in the finer things of life. Step right up, I see the dollar in your hand. Come on, girlie, you're holding up the line!"
Angela looked at the hairy hand holding out the ticket and almost panicked. The eyes of the crowd were all on her, the barker had seen to that. She could hear the smothered guffaws and see the ill-concealed smiles of amusement. It was too late to back out now. Angela stuck out her hand and took the ticket.
"There you are, honey. Now you hurry right on inside. Never let it be said that Charlie Saeller stood between a pretty girl and her sex life, hahaha!" The ruddy face peered down at her over the ticket booth, licked its dry and peeling lips, and eyed the busty bulges of Angela's knit travel suit. To anyone who knew Charlie Saeller, his thoughts were written on his forehead. Right fancy little split-tail, damned if she wasn't. He wished he had a couple like her under the tent lights. Hell, he could make a mint! "All right, folks, you're next. Hurry, hurry, hurry! The show's about to begin!"
* * *
They were like dolls, grotesque stuffed sex toys that squirmed and sweated under the hot tent lights. Angela watched as the dwarf's tiny penis disappeared into the cotton ball of red hair between his partner's stubby legs. It made wet rutty sounds, and Angela was stimulated and repulsed at the same time. The very incongruity of the midget bodies sweating and straining in miniature intercourse awakened a strange warmth in Angela's own loins. In a way, she felt sorry for them as their short, stubby limbs jerked ineffectually in a puppet pantomime of sex. Yet... there was more than sympathy in the reaction they wrought in the crowd. Angela shared the rapt expressions around her. Her arms, crossed one upon the other, moved nervously. Her fingers worked the flesh as she watched... and listened.
"You will notice, ladies and gentlemen, that Mr. Jeremy Small and his mini-mate Martha are identical in every way to yourselves, except on a one-half scale. They are just three feet tall. Jeremy's penis measures four inches in erection... or eight inches in length if he were a normal man like yourselves." He gestured toward the men around the low stage. "Midgets, ladies and gentlemen, produce live offspring of normal size. And if you think that ain't a problem, you try delivering a comparable eighteen pound baby who is forty inches long! Yet little Martha is tight as a church mouse, ain't that right, Jeremy?"
"Yes, suh!" Jeremy panted, nodding his head in agreement without breaking the rhythm of his toylike body slams.
Angela watched Jeremy's fingers clutching at the wet flesh beneath him, searching for an anchor spot, while the doll-size penis peeped wetly from her hole. The small hands finally clamped upon the woman's wee breasts. The tiny nipples squeezed up through his fingers, deepened in color and grew fat. Angela's arms moved restlessly upon her own breast. The nipples tingled against the rough weave of her blouse and soon she, too, was sweating.
"Watch carefully, ladies and gents, Mr. Jeremy Small is about to claim his husbandly reward from the Little Woman." Charlie Saeller looked into the audience, listened with pseudo horror and raised eyebrows. "Don't laugh! How many of you men could put on a show like this six times each evening? Huh? Mr. Jeremy Small is a giant among men! He never fails! How many of you can say that, gentlemen?"
There was laughter from the audience, derisive female laughter, then silence. The men looked uncomfortable in the presence of the sweating mini-brute who could raise a hard-on for six consecutive shows. Saeller nodded sympathetically and waggled his fingers to come closer.
"Little Jeremy here... he's got a secret." He looked approvingly down at the working dwarf. "He has a special herb brew that he takes each night before showtime and he's willing to share that secret with all you good people."
A titter ran through the crowd. There it was, the come-on, the gimmick. Each performer would have one. Angela's eyes followed the barker's extended finger to the tray on the table. There were a number of small bottles filled with a murky green liquid.
"Ah... but first... " Saeller paused dramatically, "first, let's watch the mighty midget prove the value of this fine secret formula."
As if timed--which it no doubt was, Angela thought with wry amusement--Jeremy Small pulled his miniscule organ out of his partner and let it waggle sturdily on his loins for all to see. Whatever the cause of its condition, the results were a credit to Jeremy. It was a stiff third thumb stubbing out from his crotch, perfectly formed and obviously in excellent prowess. There was a thick knuckle knob at its heavy end, and it was shiny wet. Angela's fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her arms. Jeremy's toy organ was wet, so... juicy wet... Angela's lips were dry. She licked them.
Angela glanced at the crowd around Jeremy's small stage. They were transfixed, eyes squinty, muscles tense, waiting... waiting... then suddenly Jeremy flopped down upon his naked partner and began a frantic bouncing. The quick jerky motions went on for several minutes. Martha's stubby arms and legs convulsed outward under each hump of Jeremy's thrusting hips. They reminded Angela of wind-up toys from a dirty joke shop. Except that toys don't cum... and Jeremy did... explosively! Angela could see the thick white ooze running from Martha's red-haired hole when he climbed off. And there were four drops of it, Angela counted them, on the wooden stage where they dripped from Jeremy's toy penis before he could reach the towel.
Grinning broadly at the crowd, Jeremy swabbed up his child size loins, dropped the towel, and refreshed himself with a swallow of the green liquid from the sales tray. He sighed aloud with contentment, winked at the audience and flexed his tiny biceps, then started to climb back up on his midget companion. Martha looked plaintively toward the crowd.
"Now, now... " Charlie Saeller put a restraining hand on the small man's bare shoulder. "You'll wear the poor girl out! You've either got to quit drinking that stuff or get your mind off the girls. Tell you what you do, Jeremy m'lad, you can take over my job. That oughta get your mind off sex for a few minutes, okay?"
"Okay, if you say so, boss." Jeremy's high-pitched voice agreed with embroidered reluctance, as he turned to the audience. "All right, men, how many of you want a helping hand along the road of love? One swallow performs miracles! And you can ask the Little Woman if you don't believe me. Good to your taste, good to your wife... in fact, good for several men's wives all at once, if you've a mind for that sort of thing! And only these few bottles left. Who's gonna be first?"
* * *
Charlie Saeller stepped down from the Mighty Midgets platform and hurried across the tanbark center strip to where the big Negro waited his turn beneath the lights.
"Hey, Linc," Charlie whispered hoarsely. "You see that baby-faced little cherry in the crowd tonight?"
"Been watching her?"
"Not particularly... why?"
"For one thing, she's hotter than a kerosened hound. For n'other, she's real pretty... and she's alone."
Both men turned to look toward Angela Varden as she strolled along with the crowd from one exhibit stage to the next waiting for the next act.
"Keep an eye on her, Linc. See what ya think. I got a feeling she might be just the one we been a'waiting for... "
* * *
Angela moved along with the flow of the crowd around the circle of exhibits. There were five stages in all, each boasting a faded backdrop of dusty velour, a layback lounge and the inevitable table of saleables and dog-eared photographs. Tarnished glitter signs were pinned to each set of curtains, tawdry and tired of one-night stands and dusty vacant lots.
Angela stood in the center of the tent and turned slowly around, reading each sign in turn. The Mighty Midgets, Mini-Marvels of 20th Century Sex... Lorita, Beauty & the Beasts... Sandu Singh, the Sexual Pretzel... Francis, the Body That Has Everything!... Lincoln Lamumba, the Biggest Penis in the World.
Maybe it had been a crazy thing to do, Angela smiled happily to herself, but she was glad she had come. Lincoln Lamumba and his jolly-big-cock were more fun to remember from a vacation than flat champagne and soggy sandwiches. Angela walked along with the crowd, listened to the comments, and tried to be inconspicuous.
"My gawd, Emma, look at the bellringer on that nigger boy, will ya?"
"Naw, I seen stuff like that when I was a kid. My pa, he had a farm hand that was queer for animals too. Never seemed to hurt him none. Ain't never seen a girl do it, though."
"Do you suppose everything works? I mean... he's got all the equipment and, well, do you suppose he can do it... all by himself?"
"Jesus H. Christ! Wish I had a tail like that!""
"I wish you did too, dear."
"Aw, shut up your mouth, Mabel."
"Wouldn't mind having a go at that midget pussy myself. Bet she's tighter'n a buckskin boot after a rain!"
"It's probably done with mirrors or something. There ain't no woman who could take on a horse! It's a trick, I tell ya, a trick."
The lights began flashing on and off over one of the stages, and Angela followed the herd across the tent toward the signaling lights. The jumble of chatter ceased. The feeling of expectation was all around her, heavy and cloying in the warm summer air.
"Right over here, ladies and gentlemen. The next incredible demonstration of sex is right over here."
Angela's heart beat faster. The Great Dane she had seen on the platform before the show was now chained to a ring on the plank flooring. The pony was tethered to a similar ring at the opposite end of the small stage. As the crowd gathered, Lorita rose and swirled the cloak wide open with outstretched hands. The bikini panties she had worn during the free show outside were gone. Only the see-through chiffon panels separated Lorita's shaved pubes from the hungry eyes of the audience. She posed, legs apart, waiting for the barker to begin the pitch.
"It is a matter of history, ladies and gentlemen, that animals have been successfully used for sexual satisfaction for centuries. It began with prehistoric man, carved in crude but unmistakable illustrations upon the walls of his Stone Age caves. It is one of the oldest taboos of mankind... and anything that lasts that long can't be all bad! In fact, this beautiful young lady is going to show you just how good it can be! Move in closer, folks. You, too, honey," he motioned encouragingly toward Angela, "... right up in the front row. Now, you have all heard the old saying that man's best friend is his dog. Well, Lorita happens to believe a dog is woman's best friend... her best boy friend!"
Angela could feel the barker's eyes returning again and again to her face. It was almost as though he was waiting for something to happen, something that involved her. Angela shook the disturbing thought away and allowed herself to be jostled by the crowd of seasoned customers as they packed close in around her.
"Same show I saw over in Phoenix last summer during the Convention," came a bragging voice from the crowd.
"That's a dog-knot, Emma, now hush!"
"Al, honey, look at the size of it, will ya?"
"Hell, the black boy's got a bigger prick than that goddamn dog. Why don't they let him stick it to her! A little on-the-spot integration, ya know what I mean."
Angela glanced casually toward the Negro's platform as she listened to the comments. Lincoln's insolent dark eyes met hers head on. He had been watching her too, intently, purposefully. Quickly Angela returned her eyes to the act on the lighted stage.
"The canine, ladies and gentlemen, is the only animal that deliberately seeks out sexual use of his human counterpart. He is the only animal who becomes genuinely stimulated by the existence of a sexual situation. He is not motivated solely by animal instinct during mating season, but participates for sexual pleasure! Watch Brutus carefully... " All eyes turned eagerly toward the blonde girl as she swung the cape from her shoulders and draped it across the chair. She walked with mincing-model steps until she stood three feet from the end of the dog's tether chain, then slowly began removing the chiffon panels one at a time. As she dropped each one, the dog would step about nervously, watch it fall, and return his eyes to the human loins from whence it came. His thick pink tongue lolled half out of his mouth. Now and then he would lick his jowls and make small whimpering sounds deep in his throat.
Angela watched, hardly breathing, as the slim blonde girl moved closer. Her nearly naked crotch was no more than a few inches from the animal's muzzle. Brutus strained forward and sniffed. A murmur ran through the crowd.
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