Carmen's Fantasies Ch. 7bynawty48©
Carmen groaned. The dog days of August had arrived, and her air conditioning was on the fritz. No matter what she did, she couldn't get cool, including lying naked on the tiles of the bathroom floor. But her distress was not due to the muggy weather only, for heat always made her horny, and she suffered cruelly until she got off.
The problem was her mind. Though more gifted at fantasy than the average novelist, she had hit a wall on the creative road that could not be overcome. Naturally she blamed Sandy. The redhead so dominated her thoughts that, for the past year, every one of her juicy orgasms had been roasted over Sandy's flames. But after casting the woman in several searing dramas, the fire had gone out.
Now bent over and with her back to the fan, Carmen gazed out the window as the breeze blew through her legs. A mother and her children were coming down the walk, the kids holding balloons while mama munched caramel corn. "Family values," Carmen said to herself. Where was daddy? Back at the fairgrounds still watching the strippers?
Carmen's legs suddenly began to tremble. Though nothing had been fleshed out, the idea was irresistible, and she became so engrossed in her rejuvenated thoughts that she forgot she was posing naked to the world. The kids pointing at her provided the first clue, and the frown from their mother drove her away from the window. "Had Daddy stayed with his family," Carmen mused, "he would have seen a better show!" Now buzzing with energy, she threw on a cotton dress, dashed to her car, and drove off laying rubber. August was good for that. But it was also good for carnival fantasies, an untapped mine that was bursting with sexual gold.
Dizzy with ideas, Carmen couldn't get to the fairgrounds fast enough. Running red lights all the way, she parked by a fire hydrant and headed straight to the beer tent to prime her imagination. At once her senses were assaulted. The acrid odor of sawdust, beer, and sweat was overpowered by the sweet smell of cotton candy and corn batter frying in thick grease. But the visual and aural treats were challenging as well, ranging from snorting, whirling rides to raucous babes in tight attire.
Some of the women looked more dangerous than the rides, having 'carny' stamped all over them like full body tattoos. These loose Southern trailer- bitches intrigued Carmen greatly, appearing as raw specimens of nature's dirtiest females, as famous for their high immorality and low intelligence as for their hip-busting jeans and braless tops. The males were easily identified by their mirrored sunglasses, their chain-smoking, and their public erections, the latter fueled by anything in a skirt.
Having gathered a slew of sordid blossoms from the garden of the midway, the professor returned to the beer tent to arrange her flowers into a steamy bouquet. Now on her third cup of suds, she slyly lubed her slit with foamy fingers, then headed for the merry-go-round and a fast horse.
"Don't stop till I tell you," Carmen said to the carny running the ride, handing him a fifty-dollar bill and climbing aboard a magnificent stallion. The carny leered at her ass, shrugged, and threw the switch. Surging up and down in an eternal race, the horses were off and running, and so was Carmen's fantasy.
It's the end of summer, and Sandy is near death. The hot, muggy weather seems to shadow her like a stalker, and she's praying for fall and the return of cooler skies. Unable to abide her stifling apartment, she pulls on a short red skirt and an old V-neck top with a faded cat stitched on the front. Her simple wardrobe reveals more of her figure than she likes, but at least the skimpy getup allows her to breathe. Now setting off for a walk, she heads nowhere in particular, wandering like a gypsy until her clogs carry her to the fair. The noises and smells both attract and repel her, but the promise of shade and something cold to drink lure her onto the grounds.
Passing by many stalls and booths, she draws her share of leers and comments. The unwanted attention makes her nervous and fidgety, and she enters the beer tent only because it's nearby. The young men gulping suds give her cursory sexual glances, but the old guys rate her much higher, eying her full curves like seasoned art critics who consider the voluptuous female as a fine thing to behold.
But an older brunette in leopard leggings sees neither classic art nor quick sensuality. She reads people like Bluebeard did treasure maps, and sees the redhead as an undiscovered isle of forbidden delights. As pierced as the pirate, she casts off from her corner and sails across the beer tent to drop anchor by Sandy's side.
"Hi," she says, with a shake of her long hair. "I'm Toni. I saw all those bastards mentally raping you, so I thought I'd come to your rescue. The least I can do is block their view. But to be honest, honey, you are flying the 'fuck me' flag."
Still panting from the heat, Sandy blushes and stares at the many rings adorning Toni's ears, nose, and belly button. She stops counting at twenty, not including those fastened to the brunette's nipples which are clearly visible under her thin top. After clumsily introducing herself, Sandy stammers something about the humidity, then greedily gulps the beer that Toni courteously buys her.
"By the way, I love your pussy," the brunette says. "I mean the one on your shirt, of course. It's nice the way his whiskers poke your nips. But then, you've got the boobs for a top like that. My little guys are only good for piercing. But I think my ass is all right, especially when I show it off in these jungle leggings. Hey, you know what, honey? We're a matched pair! For I've got a cat clinging to my ass, and you've got one hugging your tits!"
Toni laughs, showing a mouthful of crooked, smoke-stained teeth. Sandy smiles sheepishly and drops her gaze so as not to notice. But the brunette thinks she's peeking at her pubes, trying to guess whether they're pierced as well. Thrusting her pelvis, the outlines of her pussy rings appear. Sandy blushes, not knowing where to park her eyes. To loosen her up, Toni lights a joint and exhales a huge puff that engulfs the redhead in an acrid cloud.
"Is that…grass?" Sandy asks, her eyes stinging from the smoke.
"It aint no Camel," Toni replies. "Shit, we smoke weed all the time around here. Nobody gives a fuck, and it's cheaper than tobacco, what with all the taxes. Take a hit." Before Sandy can refuse, the brunette pops the joint into her mouth. Only to be polite, the redhead takes a drag, and the chemicals rush straight to her brain. "I wish this stuff hit me that fast!" Toni says, putting her arm around the redhead, allegedly to keep her from staggering. "Shit, you look like you're ready to collapse! Want to come back to my trailer and lie down a bit?"
"You...work for the carnival?" Sandy asks, still weaving side to side.
"Have for twenty years, honey. My ex runs the hoop game, but I work with the girls at the pony ride. Things are pretty slow right now, so I'm taking a break. And I really think you should get off your feet."
"Thanks for the offer," Sandy says, uncomfortable with the feel of the woman's hand on her hip. "But I'm okay now. Really. I'm fine."
"I hope you're not saying that just 'cause I'm a carny," Toni says. "People are always putting us down, you know. They call us so many fucking names that you'd think we were from Mars! But shit, we're just like normal folks--only a lot more horny!"
Sandy gulps more beer to keep from responding, and soon her sense of self is soaring high above reality. She's aware that Toni is talking, but the words are indistinct and seem to come from miles away. She barely notices when the brunette takes her arm for a tour of the carnival, for the sights, smells, and sounds have merged into a single blurred spectacle like a giant canvas with smeared paint.
Toni, of course, knows everyone in her carny family, but it's because everyone knows her that she and her new friend draw such stares. Her ex, in particular, wets his lips in jealousy when she parades by the hoop toss game with Sandy in tow. "It never takes you long," he says, congratulating Toni on her recent conquest. "I'd toss a ring at her tits but they're too fucking big!"
"I think they're purr-fect!" Toni replies, casually reaching up to pet the kitty hugging the redhead's chest. Though Sandy is out of it, a part of her knows this isn't kosher--not even for carnies--and she groggily pulls Toni's hand away. "What's the matter, honey?" the brunette asks as if genuinely surprised. "Not enough of a crowd? I mean, shit, you're a natural for the girlie show. I can just see you baring your boobs on stage for the leering rubes and rednecks!"
"Gloria would take her on," her ex affirms, blatantly scratching his bulging crotch while ogling Sandy's tits. "She's always looking for local talent--especially if big red here has a nice tongue!"
"Do you have a nice licker?" Toni asks Sandy, reaching into her mouth like a lesbian dentist. "Stick it out for me. Oh, yeah! That's a nice pussy-pleaser, sugar! Some guys have dicks smaller than that! Shit, I can think of lots of fun things to do with you!"
Sandy hears the dirty dialogue being traded, but like a derailed train, it arrives at her brain in a delayed, fractured fashion. So she only smiles politely as if they're discussing the weather. The beer is partially to blame, of course, but she's also standing in the full sun, and the heat disorients her even more as it penetrates her flesh. A mass of dark freckles breaks out on her sweaty face and chest, and both carnies interpret this as an obvious sign of burgeoning desire.
"Shit, she does have an eager beaver!" Toni's ex says, lighting a joint and blowing out a huge smoke ring that encircles Sandy's chest. "So what will it cost me to rent her for an hour?"
"Since when can you last an hour?" Toni retorts. "Besides, I only brought her here to piss you off. But if you give me back my diamond, I might let you have a little taste."
"Shit, I pawned that months ago."
"Then you'll have to settle for your fucking hand!" Saying that, Toni leads Sandy off toward the haunted house. The carny in charge is an old buddy who lets the women board for free. Snuggling close in the little car, Toni drapes her arm around Sandy's shoulder. But once they're inside, her fingers get busy, pulling up the redhead's top in order to sample her tempting D-cups.
"God, you're stacked!" Toni says, aggressively squeezing Sandy's tits. "I wanted to do this back in the beer tent, but the guys would have erased your face with their cum! Now give me a sweet kiss, honey, and shove that big tongue of yours right down my fucking throat!"
Part of Sandy is still in the beer tent, for her brain has not caught up with current events. Now surrounded by chilling screams and moaning ghouls--and crushed by cloying hands and suffocated by a drooling mouth-- she thinks terrorists must have blown up the fairgrounds while she was eating a hotdog.
"I bet you're nice and wet for me!" Toni says, reaching up Sandy's skirt to fondle her hairy mound. "Mmmm! You should be on a fucking leash, bitch, for you're shaggy as a dog! I keep mine shaved like the dancers in the show, but it's always nice to fuck some fur for a change of pace!"
As the brunette works three fingers into the redhead's hole, a spooky skeleton flies past, leering at the lez scene and wishing it still had a serviceable dick. As if sensing the cadaver's desire, Toni grabs its leg and snaps off a femur, then uses the thigh bone to probe Sandy's cunt.
"You like that, honey?" Toni asks, working the long bone in and out. "It won't give you any joy juice, but it will last a lot longer than some men I know! Shit, I wish there was more light in here so I could see your cunt in action!"
Sandy responds with loud groans--but not because of the femur. Still suffering a lag in time, she's seeing Toni feel her up by the ring toss game. She wants to say that she's simply not that kind of girl, that even if a part of her is, she needs more privacy and less people around, and that she wanted to run like mad to escape the leering carny who was scratching his balls. But her speech mirrors the sad condition of her brain, and she gasps out the following words.
"I'm...simply...that kind of girl! I need...more...people around! I want to...run like mad to...the carny scratching his balls!"
"I knew you were a fucking exhibitionist!" Toni says. "Honey, if you want to perform for a crowd, that can easily be arranged! I'm betting Gloria will put you in a special show! And since you're hungry for my ex, I'll let the jerk perform with you!"
The ride finishes with a blinding flash as their car emerges into daylight. The bone is still stuck between Sandy's legs, and Toni pulls it out and hands it to her carny pal, shrugging. Then she hustles her hot to trot friend down the midway to the girlie show, taking her around to the back where several half-naked women are smoking and sipping whiskey while lounging in lawn chairs in front of a trailer.
"Hey, y'all," the brunette says. "Look what I got here!"
The dancers, all thin and young, aren't terribly impressed with Toni's find. "She's got nice boobs," one says, yawning.
"But her ankles are fat," says another. "And she's too fucking old for dancing, besides."
"Screw her fucking ankles," Toni argues. "She's twice as hot as any of you bitches! And she has this deep itch to put out in public!"
"How deep?" asks an older blonde in a robe who now comes out of the trailer. She's clearly the woman who runs the show, and Toni gives her a hard sales pitch.
"Is hell deep enough? Shit, Gloria, Sandy here is the hottest piece of redheaded ass you'll ever find! She practically begged me to fuck her in the haunted house! And then she demanded a crowd!"
Gloria has been around the block and is not an easy sell. Besides, Toni has brought her lots of women before, and few lived up to their star billing. After walking around Sandy to size her up, the blonde pulls up her shirt. "Her tits are okay, but I've seen better. What does she have for a bush?"
Toni proudly lifts Sandy's skirt, combing her fingers through the dense pussy hair. "Not bad," Gloria says, fingering the cunt for herself. "I'm partial to hair, though razors are the rage. And you say she loves to put out? I suppose I could put her in a novelty show. So how much do you want to rent her out?"
"How does half the gate sound?" Toni replies.
"It's hardly music to my ears. Tell you what. I'll go as high as a quarter--but only if she's really good. And she auditions first."
"Not a problem," Toni says. "Do I get to watch?"
"You can bring your fucking camera," Gloria says, taking Sandy by the wrist and pulling her inside the trailer. *
What the beer and grass didn't do to Sandy's brain is accomplished by cheap whiskey and a hot bed. Her 'audition' lasts for a good three hours, and she spends the afternoon as one would expect, lying naked on her back and eating carny cunt. However, her own pussy gets a workout as well, for Gloria repeatedly tests it durability with a horse-sized dong.
But while swallowing her umpteenth load of cum, Sandy is mentally riding through the haunted house, aghast to discover that Toni is fucking her with a bone. Her sudden protest is muffled by the big ass sitting on her face, and Gloria reluctantly gets off to better hear what the redheaded bitch is mumbling. However, before Sandy can utter a word, her conscience intervenes for a little pep talk.
"I've been silent up to now since you've been behaving quite well, though your heart isn't in it, and your timing is way out of sync. That's a real shame because these carnival ladies are offering you an incredible experience, and they've already invested a lot of energy in your training. So before you retreat to your good girl self and say something stupid that will hurt these sweet women, I want you to snap out of your stupid funk and remember what you are. You're an aging slut and a filthy whore, nothing more, and by pleasuring others, you please yourself. Now do I have to add some pain in order to get this message through to you?"
Shaking her head, the cobwebs clear, and Sandy magically catches up on time. Knowing where she is and what she has done, she leans over to lick Gloria's shapely thighs.
"So how did I do?" she asks. "Did I pass your fucking test?"
"With flying colors," Gloria admits. "To be honest, I only brought you in here because I was bored. But I have to admit that you opened my eyes--along with my other juicy parts! In fact, you remind me of a bitch I met in Kentucky. That's a race horse state, you know, and the stallions finally did her in."
"I could keep up with them," Sandy brags, pulling the dong out of her cunt and licking it end to end.
"Half the gate!" Toni says, filming this last bit as she has the entire audition.
"You don't mind this carny pervert selling your ass?" Gloria asks the redhead. "She loves to take good girls for naughty rides."
"I'm not a girl girl," Sandy replies. "And I love naughty rides! Besides, Toni did something nice for me, and I always return favors!"
"And what if we treat you like a worthless sack of shit?"
"Mmmm!" Sandy purrs. "Now you're making me horny! I just hope that what you've got planned for me is really dirty!"
Gloria slips on her old robe and gulps a belt of whiskey. "Half the gate it is," she says to Toni. "Keep her alive till I get the word out."
Night falls on the fairground, and Gloria's girls are still passing the word about a special show available to well-heeled ladies and gents. It will cost $200 to get in, but the price is cheap for a live sex act that, rumor has it, will be outrageous and disgusting. This in itself sells many tickets, and when the appointed hour draws nigh, over eighty lusty voyeurs gather under the girlie tent to lose their souls and get their jollies.
No music is played, no fanfare offered as the lights go down on the crowd and come up on the little stage. A mature blonde in an evening dress comes out, looks over the audience, and shakes her head. "There should be more women here," Gloria begins. "But I guess this is a Christian town-- either that or the local ladies are putting on shows of their own! But for the dozen or so females in the crowd, let me say you must be a bunch of wild bitches! And if there are any cops in the crowd, well, I won't tell if you won't!
"Now we've got something special for you tonight, a truly hot redhead who loves to perform. So take all the pictures you like. You're paying for it, after all, so you might as well get your money's worth. As for joining in, I'll leave that up to you. If you think you've got what it takes, then come on up and strut your stuff!--All right, girls, it's time for the show to begin!"
In a mock parade, six strippers in heels and thongs appear, each holding a cord tied to something behind the curtain. After the dancers are all onstage, they slowly haul Sandy into view. Wearing only a pair of old spike heels, she's seemingly pulled in all directions, for the cords are stoutly affixed to her wrists, nipples, neck, and bush. Prompted by Gloria, she begins a naughty dance, one aided by the strippers who jerk on their lines like eager anglers anxious to set the hook.
"That's it, girls!" the Mistress of Ceremony shouts. "Make her your puppet! Let's see who can jiggle her tits the most and shake her ass the best!" The dancers fight over control of the redhead, causing her to fall but immediately jerking her back onto her feet. Her nipples are stretched like thick rubber bands, and her bush hair is nearly ripped off. But the grimace she bears is framed in joy, and she grins through it all.
"It seems to me Sandy's not trying very hard," Gloria says to the leering audience, shaking her head in feigned dismay. "If I paid $200 I'd certainly expect the fucking bitch to put out. What do you think? Should my girls punish her for being lazy?"