The Freak Show

Freak Show

It was my girlfriend who dragged me to see the freak show camped out of town. I don’t know how she had heard about it, as I hadn’t heard anything. Nor, considering how few cars were parked near it, had anybody else. There were only a few other people wandering about.

My girlfriend, Elisa, likes odd stuff. Once I let her drag me to a midnight screening of this film called Eraserhead. That was really weird. I never want to see that film again. But as she sucked me off in the darkened cinema I suppose that I can’t complain. She’s always doing stuff like that. She’s got a kinky streak a mile wide.

Another time, when we were in Holland, she took me to a torture museum. Which was okay, I suppose. But what was even better was her giving me a handjob, that night, as she described using all of those torture apparatuses on her defenceless body. But I just wish that we could go straight to the sex without having to do the weird stuff first.

Anyway, for the freak show Elisa insisted that we wear leather, and nothing else. So I had on my leather boots, leather trousers, a leather jacket, and nothing else. I felt like an escapee from a Tom of Finland picture. Elisa was wearing a long, leather mackintosh which went down to her knees, and her favourite, thigh-high kinky boots. I couldn’t tell what else she was wearing because of the coat.

At the entrance to the freak show there was a list of attractions: the Snake Woman, the Mighty Schlong, the Electric Girl, the Human Pincushion, Greta the Living Ashtray, the Cuke Girl, the Whip Mistress, the Man with Two Cocks, the Illustrated Girl, Priapus the Sperm Machine, Leena the Contortionist, and the Girl with the Impossible Tongue. A dozen attractions, and all of them sounding weird. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to see any of them.

“Let’s see them all.” Elisa said. As there was a twenty dollar charge to enter each tent this was going to get expensive. I hopped that the sex tonight was going to be incredible, after shelling out almost five hundred dollars.

We decided to go around in order – or, rather, Elisa did, as she was in control. I handed over forty dollars for the two of us. We went into the tent.

There was a small stage, set up, but only one other onlooker, a rather severe-looking woman dressed all in red latex, for some reason. I decided not to try chatting with her, after the look she gave me after entering the tent.

After a few minutes a woman in her thirties, with an hourglass figure, danced out onto the stage. She was entirely nude. She had long hair, dyed emerald green, that reached all of the way down to her backside. She had a strip of pubic hair, also dyed green. She was very sexy, with a prominent pubis mound, as she danced on the stage. Then she stood with her legs apart, and patted her belly. I saw something begin to come out from between her cuntlips. It was the head of a snake. I watched, amazed, as more and more of the snake emerged, slithering up over her body. The snake was not very wide, but it had to be at least four feet long. How had she got it all inside her? How did the snake breathe? I watched the snake slither around her statuesque body for a good five minutes. Then she patted her belly again. The snake slithered down to her cunt and went inside, head first. Soon the entire four foot long snake had disappeared inside her. It had to be a trick. But I knew that it wasn’t. The snake woman danced off the stage. The three of us clapped. It was the least that we could do after that extraordinary performance.

We went to the next tent. This was to prove to be the least interesting of the shows. It featured a black guy with a very large cock, and that was it. I don’t mean that it was twelve inches long, or anything like that. This was a freak show, after all. The guy’s cock was nineteen inches long. I know that it was nineteen inches because the guy got out a two foot ruler, so we could see the length. The dude tried to get his cock erect. But there was too much of it for it to become more than semi-detumescent. I wondered whether he had ever got it fully erect, rather than just hang between his legs. Yes, it was probably the longest cock in the world. But it had still been a little disappointing to see.

The next tent was the Electric Girl. A very pretty young girl came out onto the stage. She had bobbed brown hair, her pubic hair shaved off. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old.

“I am the Electric Girl.” she said. “I am immune to electricity, as I will demonstrate.”

There was some sort of hand-cranked electric shock machine on the stage, with a red wire running to a vicious-looking alligator clamp, and a black wire ending in another clamp. She got out a light bulb. She attached one clamp to a big toe, and the other to one of her nipples, which caused her to gasp, as it really did have nasty-looking teeth. Then she turned so that her cunt was facing the audience: my girlfriend and me and a couple of old guys. She inserted the light bulb in her cunt, so that the end was sticking out.

“Now, do I have a volunteer to turn the crank?” she asked, smiling sweetly. Elisa pushed me forwards. I jumped up on the stage. Was I really going to do this? yers, the erection in my leather trousers suggested exactly that.

“Turn the handle as fast as you can.” she said, smiling at me. I began turning the crank, but slowly at first. The bulb lit up, but only dimly.

“Faster than that, wimp.” She said. I wasn’t going to be called a wimp. I cranked up the power as hard as I could, until the bulb was blazing white. But she just knelt there, smiling at my girlfriend and the two older guys. Eventually my arm got too tired to crank anymore. She removed the light bulb, and the clamps.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” I asked.

“Yes, the clamps bite a bit.” she said. She laughed and flounced off the small stage.

The next tent was the Human Pincushion. I already had an inkling as to what this might be, considering by the acts we had seen so far. There were three women in leather and latex in there, as well as my girlfriend and me. There was a small stage, with a box on a table. I couldn’t see what was in the box.

A naked brunette walked out onto the stage. Her pussy was shaven. Her breasts were large, at least DD. I guessed she was around thirty years old.

“This is an audience participation show.” she said. “Each of you can come up, one at a time, and put twelve pins in my breasts.”

My girlfriend almost rushed the stage. As she went up, he coat opened a little, and I could see that she was naked underneath it. Elisa reached into the wooden box. She pulled out a needle. It was two inches long, and looked very sharp.

“Down to the head, please.” the performer said. My girlfriend pushed twelve needles down to their heads in the woman’s breasts. I watched them go in. The woman winced a little, but that was it.

I was next, followed by two of the other women. By the time that the second woman was done the performer had forty-eight needles in her tits, each of them two inches long, each of them pushed down to their heads.

So far the women’s nipples and areolae were free of needles. We hadn’t dared cause her that much pain. That was not the cause with the final participant. The next ten needles went into the areolae, five in each. The woman, forty years plus and with short black hair, had to be a sadist, as she wiggled the pins as they went in, trying to cause as much pain as possible. The black-haired sadist picked up the penultimate needle. Then she got out a Zippo lighter. She glanced at the performer for permission.

“Do it.” she said. The black-haired woman heated up the last two needles, for as long as she could hold them without burning her fingers, before forcing them down through the nipples into her breast. The black-haired woman turned to go, thinking the show over.

“Wait a minute.” the performer said. “You are suitably sadistic. There is a draw in the box, with a final thirteen needles: twelve normal ones, and a special one. Because you are cruel, you get the honour of doing my cunt.”

The brunette stood with her legs spread wide as the black-haired woman forced a dozen Zippo-heated needles, each two inches long, into her pubic mound and labia. My girlfriend and I were standing right at the edge of the stage, so that we didn’t miss anything. We could see just how much pain the heated needles were causing, even though the performer did not scream once.

I saw the last needle. It was only an inch long, but it had tint barbs running along the length of the metal.

“You know where that goes.” the performer said. The sadist smiled, as I saw her pull aside the other woman’s clitoral hood, before pushing that needle all of the way down into the clit. At least she hadn’t heated it up first. But the clit would get torn up when the performer pulled the needle out.

I saw the sadist’s fingertip and thumb tip, from where she had been holding the needles. There was a little burn on each. Those needles, although not glowing, must have been really hot when they went in. The performer walked off the stage with all of the needles still embedded in her body.

“Glad you came?” my girlfriend asked, as we made our way to the next tent.

“Yes, very glad.”

“Good. When we get back tonight I’ll deepthroat you while you perform the climax of that last show on me.”

Great the Living Ashtray was next. A beautiful blonde girl came out onto the stage. Her pussy was shaved, like most of these performers. I expected her body to be covered with burns, considering the name of the attraction. But her skin was pale, and flawless.

“How come she looks so good?” I whispered into Elisa’s ear.

“Because this show is one night only.” she said. “Shut up and enjoy.”

The black-haired sadist had joined us in the tent, as well as the woman in red latex from the first tent. There was a table with a cigarette lighter on it, and a large pack of cigarettes. There was also a speculum.

“I hope that you are all sadists, because, tonight, you get to burn me wherever you want.” She had a German accent. This was another audience participation show. “You each get to burn my breasts for five minutes. Whoever I judge to be the most sadistic then gets to burn my cunt for twenty minutes, after strapping me in the gyno chair.”

Elisa went first. She singed all over the pale breasts, enjoying causing burns on the skin, as the woman stood there smiling, her hands behind her back The woman in red latex went next, and did the same. I was third. I singed the breasts, but not too badly, I hoped. In fact I probably spent more time coughing than hurting her, as I didn’t smoke.

The black-haired, forty-something sadist was last. She smoked a cigarette, but with the tip touching a nipple. She smoked it that way, the ember orange, for around two and a half minutes, before doing the other nipple like that. It really was nasty. But I couldn’t help almost coming watching the nipples be blackened like that, and listening to the performer’s moans of pain.

“Er… well done… you win.” the performer said, when the five minutes were up. She walked to the gyno chair, where she let the lesbian sadist strap her in.

“You have twenty minutes to torture my cunt. Hold nothing back. But I don’t think that you will.”

She was right. The sadist treated the cunt in the same manner as the nipples. She smoked a cigarette while the woman touched the labia. I glanced at Elisa. She had pulled her leather coat open, and was red-faced, her fingers massaging her pussy, as she watched a lesbian sadist burn a woman’s cunt.

The cunt was burned all over, not just on the inner and outer labia, but on the pubic mound, and on the urethra. The sadist even used the speculum to burn the vaginal walls, and the cervix.

With five minutes to go the sadist lit another cigarette. She smoked it furiously, the end of the cigarette in constant contact with the clit, blackened and burned by the cigarette. Elisa came, almost collapsing onto the ground, her knees weak, as she saw a clit effectively destroyed by a cigarette.

The next tent was the Cuke Girl. There was a girl already sitting in an armchair, on the stage. She was very thin, with almost no breasts to speak of. She had long brown hair. I thought that she had to be no older than eighteen. But what was remarkable about her was her erect clit. There was no clit hood at all. But her clit was massive. It was erect, but it was at least five inches long. And it was definitely a clit, not some transexual’s cock.

“Who would like to suck me off?” this freak asked. Elisa was up the stairs onto the stage on the word “suck,” discarding her coat on the way, now wearing only her thigh-high leather boots. I could do nothing but watch, as Elisa knelt down in front of the chair – at an angle so that everybody in the tent – a couple of leather women and the old guy’s – could see all of the action as she served a cock-sized clit. Elisa’s dripping pussy was on show, and I had to resist running on stage and burying my cock in her wet pussy. I was rock hard.

I watched, as Elisa first licked all over the clit, then took it in her mouth and sucked it as though it was a cock.

“Every bit of my clit is as… ah, sensitive… as a normal clit, but with so much more surface area I can have sensations that no other woman can know.” the Cuke Girl said. She then kept up a running commentary of what Elisa was doing, in case there was nobody who could see. It took only a few minutes for the Cuke Girl to come to a screaming orgasm.

Elisa stood up, ready to leave the stage. But the show was not over yet.

“Wait…” the Cuke Girl said, recovering from her orgasm. “You have brought me pleasure. Because of that, you now have the right to bring me pain.”

The Cuke Girl handed Elisa a riding crop.

“I want you to whip my clit. You get to whip the largest clit you’ve ever seen. Whip me to I faint. Use your entire strength. Don’t hold back.”

Elisa’s eyes lit up. She swished the riding crop through the air. The Cuke Girl sat on the edge of the chair, her clit poking up into the air. I wondered whether, as the girl had just cum, her clit would be even more sensitive than normal.

Elisa stood just to the side of the girl, who was now hyperventilating in fear (no masochist she). Elisa whipped down the riding crop.

WHISH! The end of the riding crop hit the very tip of the clit, the force of the blow moving the clit downwards. The Cuke Girl screamed, and curled up into a ball, clearly in agony. Elisa waited for the girl to uncurl herself, and present her clit for punishment.

WHISH! “Aaaah!” It was a brutal hit to the shaft of this superclit. This time, knowing what was coming, the Cuke Girl did not curl up. But her legs trembled with agony, and she gripped the arms of the chair.

WHISH! “Aaaah!” That scream was ear-splitting, but Elisa showed no mercy. Two more strikes came, two more deafening screams. Then Eliza took a few steps back, ran forward, and brought the riding crop down faster and harder than before. The Cuke Girl screamed and fainted, as the head of the riding crop hit her right on the end of the clit again, the most sensitive part. I could see a small amount of blood trickling out of the end of the clit. The show was over.

The next tent was the Whip Mistress. We had to wait to be let in, as there was a show in progress. When we went in there was a woman of around forty years old on the stage. It was late, and the only other person who had entered with us was a goth girl, maybe around twenty years old. For some reason she looked very nervous. There was a gyno chair on the stage, angled so that we, the audience, would be able to see everything.

The Whip Mistress strode out on stage. She had long dark hair, and was dressed in long leather boots, a tight corset, and nothing else.

“This is another audience participation show.” the Whip Mistress said. “Will their be any volunteers? I will need a female volunteer. If there are not any there will be no show. Understand that if you put your hand up you will be tortured with my whip. I will whip your breasts. I will then split your nipples. I will whip your cunt. Then I will split your clit.”

I held back Elisa, but she just gave me an odd look. She wasn’t interested, thankfully, in being mutilated. But then, very hesitantly, the goth girl raised an arm.

The goth girl was dressed in a black tee shirt and tight black jeans. She shucked those off, to run naked onto the stage. I could see that her nipples and labia were pierced, and her pubic mound was shaved. She had a few tattoos, as well.

“Remove your nipple and cunt rings, while I show just how skilled I am.” The Whip Mistress said. As to men pushed a wooden frame onto the stage we watched as the Whip Mistress set up a series of playing cards, edge one. I watched as the whip split one card after the other, the tip of the whip never missing. It saw something glint as the whip cracked through the air, and it became clear that the whip ended in thin metal, rather than leather. This was a really nasty whip.

The frame was an oblong wooden frame, with chains and manacles going to ratchets going to the four corners of the frame. Once the goth girl had removed her piercings she was attached to the frame. The manacles were put on the wrists, and she was raised up, until her toes left the floor of the stage. Then manacles were put on her ankles. The chains were ratcheted until she was bowstring tight.

“I’m not sure about this.” the goth girl said. It was clear that she was already in pain, just from the suspension. But she was ignored. Nobody rushed forward to help her. We all wanted to see her get whipped (especially my hard cock).

“She has to be tight.” the Whip Mistress said. “She must not be able to move, so that I only split her nipples, not whip them off. Now, let us cause her torture.”

The Whip Mistress stepped back, judging the distance, so that only the very tip of the whip would touch the girl. The whip cracked, moving almost too fast to see. A tiny cut appeared on one of the girl’s breasts, as the victim screamed.

On and on the whipping went, a myriad number of tiny cuts on the breasts, each of them leaking blood. The girl screamed, and begged, and screamed again. But she was still ignored. She had volunteered for this, after all.

Then the Whip Mistress moved lower, targeting the shave cunt. The whip flicked the pubic mound, before flicking the labia. Each stroke drew blood. The goth girl was only gurgling now, unable to scream. The Whip Mistress made sure that the labia were well punished, running with blood.

Then the Whip Mistress got out a pair of clamps, each of them attached to string. She walked up to the girl in the frame, and put a clamp on each labia, pulling the labia out as far as they would go, tying the string to the sides of the frame.

“No, please, I beg you.” the goth girl said. But the Whip Mistress ignored her. She sent the end of the whip between the widely-parted labia, to cut the girl’s vulval walls. The girl fainted.

“We cannot have that.” the Whip Mistress said. She used smelling salts to restore her victim to consciousness.

The Whip Mistress whipped out twice, the girl screaming to high heaven as the metal tip of the whip split her nipples in two. The girl screamed, but stayed awake.

Then the Mistress went over and inspected where the clitoris was hid beneath its fleshy hood.

“Her clit is hiding from us.” the Whip Mistress said. “We cannot have that. It is the highlight of the show.”

The woman produced a scalpel, and cut off the clitoral hood, so that the clit had nowhere to hide. She wiped away the blood, so that we could see the clit. The goth girl, goggle-eyed, could only stare down at where her clitoral hood had been. The Mistress stood back, took careful aim, and cracked the whip. I saw a tiny spurt of blood, as the girl’s clit was bisected by the whip. I thought the show over, but there was a coda to it.

“Well, we have done her some damage.” the Whip Mistress said. “We must repair her, a little.”

She took out some antiseptic, and applied it to the split nipples and clit. The astringent sting got the goth girl screaming again. The Whip Mistress then got out a needle and thread.

“No, please.” the goth said. But the Whip Mistress wasn’t listening. I watched as she sewed the nipples back together. The goth girl screamed, and shook her head. But it was nothing like the screams when the Whip Mistress sewed her clit.

And that was the end of this particular show. The goth girl was led away, out of the back of the stage, accompanied by the Whip Mistress. I though I heard the sadist say “You are my slave now.” But maybe that was just my imagination.

The Man with Two Cocks was next. I had expected this to be fake, some guy with a prosthetic cock above his real one. But when he walked on stage it looked real: to circumcised cocks, both erect, both seven inches long, one above the other. The guy was muscular, and obviously worked out. He loved his body.

I was the only guy in the tent. There were about half a dozen women, as well as Elisa. No doubt they all wanted to see if the two cocks were real.

“Yes, they are both real.” he said, waving his cocks around. “Would anybody like to feel the evidence?”

Seven arms went up, including Elisa’s. The guy chose a black girl with big tits. The girl was only wearing a corset and red “fuck me” shoes. I was beginning to feel overdressed.

The black girl, with a wide smile, ran up onto the stage. It was clear that she intended to enjoy this. And she did. She knelt down, on all fours, and I watched as she gasped as the guy fucked her arsehole and cunt at the same time, sinking down into her for the full length of his two cocks. The girl came at least twice. Then, at the end, the guy pulled out. He walked around to the front of the black girl. His cocks both exploded at the same time, spurting streams of white cum all over her face. She moans, but makes no attempt to wipe the spunk off her face. And it looked very sexy, the white spunk slowly dripping from her black skin.

The Illustrated Girl was next. She came out onto the stage. Well, she wasn’t a girl, she looked more like forty, with large breasts and wide hips. But it was hard to tell, as she had no hair, not even on her head, and her entire body had been tattooed, creating quite a bizarre spectacle. Even her pussy had been tattooed.

She did not stay on the stage, but came down, into the audience, so that we could see the tattoos in closer detail. Every tattoo was a pornographic scene. I saw an image of a man whipping a girl, blood spraying in the air; a girl torturing a guy’s cock, and stuff like that. On her pubic mound the Illustrated Girl had an image of a laughing, leather-clad dominatrix plunging a red hot branding iron into a woman’s open cunt.

“Pick a tattoo and concentrate… concentrate.” she said. Her voice was strangely hypnotic, I could do nothing but obey.

My gaze settled on a scene on one of her shoulders. It showed some teenage girl – eighteen, hopefully – one her hands and knees, long brown hair trailing down, her head under the belly of a Great Dane, sucking its red, erect cock. I couldn’t tear my face away. The tattoo seemed to grow in size, until it filled my vision. And suddenly I was there, looking down at the cute eighteen year old as she sucked off a dog’s cock. It was impossible, but I could hear each slurp as she deepthroated the doggy cock down to its knot.

She shifted her arse around, in a very sexy way. I just stared at her drinking the doggy cum. I knew that it was already releasing its sperm, and that she was swallowing it all. My cock was as hard as it had ever been.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she said, breaking off from sucking the dog for a few seconds, to turn and look at me. “Fuck me in my arsehole.” She then began sucking the dog again, not wanting to miss any of the doggy cum.

How could I resist? I took my cock out of my leather trousers, and slowly introduced it to her young, hot, tight arsehole. I fucked that tight arsehole as I watched her suck the dog. It did not take me long to cum…

…and suddenly I was back in the tent, watching my sperm arc high into the air from my cock, protruding out of the zip of my leather trousers. I glanced at my girlfriend. But her eyes were closed. She shuddered, in her own fantasy, clearly in the grip of an orgasm. Seeing my girlfriend cum was a turn on, and I remained semi-erect, despite having just cum.

So that was the show. There had to have been some form of hypnosis. Later, I asked Eliza just which image she had been concentrating on. But she refused to tell me, indicating that it must have been something really bad. Judging from where Elisa had been standing, at the front of the tattooed woman, it could have been the tattoo of a dominatrix forcing a red hot branding iron up a woman’s spread cunt. But, if that was the case, had Elisa been merely a spectator to the scene, or had she been the one holding the branding iron? Or, maybe, had she been the woman suffering as red hot metal parted her labia?

Priapus the Sperm Machine was next. This was another guy, and once again I was the only guy in the tent. Priapus was naked, and the hairiest man I had ever seen. His body was absolutely covered with hair, so that with his ten inch long, thick, erect cock, he reminded me more of images of a satyr than a human being. Even his feet were hairy.

“I am Priapus.” he said. He had a faint Greek accent. It seemed like these performers came from all over the world. I supposed that if you scoured the entire world you might encounter freaks like these. “I have a cock which does not go down, and my balls can produce many times the amount of spunk as a normal male. Would anybody like to experience the delights of bukkake?”

I turn to speak to Elisa, but she is gone, walking up onto the stage in just her black leather boots. Sometimes I wished she wasn’t so sexy. Ah, well, at least the hairy guy wasn’t going to fuck her. And I had watched plenty of bukkake porn on my computer, so who was I to complain?

Elisa knelt at his feet, in a very submissive position, as he stood over her, wanking his rock hard cock. It didn’t take him long to cum. A string of white spunk burst forth from his cock, hitting Elisa on her closed eyes. Then another few out of his cock slit, hitting her nose. A third flew out, into her open, waiting mouth. And more: he produced string after a string of cum, much more than should have been possible. When he finished I reckoned that Elisa had as much cum on her face as from four men. It was a thick film of cum covering her face from her hairline down to her chin.

“I think that I’ve got a tissue somewhere.” I said, feeling in the pockets of my leather coat.

“Don’t you dare!” Elisa said. “Just carry my coat. I don’t want spunk dripping on it.”

That was how we left the tent, Elisa with spunk dripping off her face, blinking through the sperm, naked apart from her boots, and me reduced to carrying her coat.

Leena the Contortionist was the penultimate tent. There was only a wooden box on the stage, no sign of Leena. Then as we were waiting for something to happen, the lid of the box flipped open and a hand waved. I stared. I couldn’t believe that anybody was in the box. It looked too small. But the hand became an arm, and then two arms, as a naked girl extricated herself from the box. Leena was very thin, and she moved oddly, clearly with odd joints. Soon she was out of the box, standing naked on the stage. She had a small black Mohawk, but her pussy was shaven. Her breasts were no more than a B cup, at most. But I supposed that it was less two squeeze in the box.

She gave us a highly eroticised performance, showing of just how bendy she was. Supporting herself on her hands, she bent down her head to her cunt, so we could watch her as she tongued herself to an orgasm. Then somehow twisting herself into a ball she fisted her own cunt and arsehole at the same time. She then rimmed herself for a long time, before somehow squeezing herself back into that same impossibly small box.

We had reached the final show, the Girl with the Impossible Tongue. It was the final performance, of the final show. It was now the middle of the night. Elisa still had a lot of spunk on her face, slowly drying.

We were the only people in the tent. A tall girl came out of the back. She had long, black hair, and was very slim, although she had no breasts to speak of. She stood still on the stage, and slowly had the tip of her tongue slip out of her mouth. But it kept coming, a writing, pink snake, until she touched her dimpled chin with her tongue. Then he tongue was raised, up her face, towards her eyebrows. And it kept coming. It carried on until there was a foot of pink tongue facing out of her mouth. How could she have a tongue as long as that? It must have totally filled her mouth – and more. The girl did not speak – maybe she couldn’t – but she motioned towards Elisa.

“Go on, you know you want to.” I sighed. Elisa ran up onto the stage.

The girl with the foot long tongue began by licking Eliza’s face clean of the drying spunk. Her face did not have a drop left at the end (and seeing that hardened my cock again. Then she indicated that Elisa should stand with her booted legs widely spread. The tongue girl sat between Elisa, and I saw the sexist thing I had ever seen in my life: a foot long tongue slowly work its way up into my girlfriend’s hot cunt.

“Oh god, oh god.” Elisa gasped, feeling something which she had never felt before, and never would again. “Oh god, it’s filling me. Oh god, she’s licking my cervix.” Lisa went week at the knees, as she came with the tongue inside her. The girl held Elisa in place, not letting her leave just yet. She withdrew the tongue from Elisa’s drenched cunt. I was right at the edge of the stage by then, and I saw the tip of the tongue at Elisa’s little brown anus. Now I had rimmed Elisa in the past, but I could only get the tip of my tongue in her very tight back passage. This girl, though, managed to slide the full length of her tongue up Lisa’s arsehole.

“It’s swirling around!” Elisa said. Then the only sounds she could make were ah ah as the tongue fucked her arsehole. Elisa flicked her clit, eventually coming with a tongue deep in her bowels. She staggered off the stage, looking exhausted.

As we got back into our car, Elisa still only wearing her boots, she muttered: “Remember, your cock still has a date with my mouth, and my cit has a date with a barbed needle…”

The End.