| |
Bippo The Clown
By
Rob Rosen
When I was eight years old, my father took me to the circus.
I didn’t much care for it.
The animal acts seemed cruel. Even I knew that lions and tigers and elephants belonged in the wild. My opinion was that if you stuck your head in a lion’s mouth, you deserved to have it bitten off. Smacking a stick on an elephant’s ass also looked like a stupid thing to do. I wished the elephants would revolt and sit down on their keepers. That would show them who was boss. I ignored the prancing ponies too. At eight, I didn’t know the word insipid, but I knew that’s what it was just the same.
My under-the-breath boos went unheard below the exuberant cheers of my peers.
The acrobats didn’t hold much interest for me either. Grownups looked silly in leotards. And the net would catch them if they fell. What a waste of time and energy. Anyway, my neck hurt from all that looking up, so I stopped and only looked straight ahead. That’s when my attention was finally piqued.
Clowns.
The first clown was as tall as he was wide. With long blue stripes down his pants and large red spots on his shirt. His yellow bow tie swirled around and around as it shot water out at the crowd. Atop his head was a mass of fiery orange hair that nicely matched his nose and overly large shoes. And his face was all white with wide, rosy cheeks painted on. What a great job if you were a thief hiding from the police, I thought.
I was transfixed.
A tiny car pulled up behind the first clown. The door opened and one clown after the other spewed out. Again, I was eight and this was all new to me. I stared in awe. How did so many clowns pour out of that one little car? Were clowns magical like fairies and elves? I knew better, but the thought did seem appealing for some strange reason.
My father kept nudging me to look up during all of this. Why, I thought, this is where the real entertainment was. Who cared about some lady swinging from a pole in the air? Couldn’t these people see the wonder in it all? I knew that grownups were dumb, but kids too? I wanted to shout at everyone to stop looking up and look out instead. I knew my father wouldn’t have appreciated that. He wasn’t very tolerant of making scenes.
Oh well, I guessed it was enough that I was watching and enjoying them. Besides, the clowns didn’t seem too upset by it all. They kept juggling and prancing and cartwheeling and spinning and generally goofing around just as if they were the stars of the show, which to me, they clearly were.
***
“What do you want for your birthday?” my father inquired.
I was almost sixteen.
“A clown,” I responded.
“A clown?” my mother practically shrieked. But you’re gonna be sixteen. A clown is something you get for someone half your age. What will your friends say?
“Look a clown. How cool,” I answered, glibly.
“Absolutely not. It’s out of the question,” my mother retorted. My father looked on, waiting for my reaction before he chimed in.
“Fine,” I said, scanning their faces, “then my learner’s permit and a car.”
There was a brief pause, then, “A clown it is,” said my father, slapping the table. He then quickly left the room. Smart man my dad. My mother glowered but went back to whatever it was she was doing without adding another word to the conversation.
I had clearly won.
And sure enough, at my sixteenth birthday party, a clown named Bippo arrived to entertain me and my friends. Bippo was superb. He wore a suit entirely made of gold thread and had on a gold clown nose to match. Even his hair shimmered in gold. His feet, which were about a size twenty-five, were gold. His big, wide belt was gold. His tie was gold. His gloves were gold. Only his face was painted the usual white. He was a site to behold. I flushed with boyhood glee. My friends, on the other hand, stood there aghast.
“A clown?” my best friend Teddy asked. “A fire-eater maybe, but not a clown.”
“Hey Bippo,” I yelled over to my gift, “can you eat fire?”
Bippo didn’t verbally respond. Instead he pulled a gold balloon from his vest pocket and proceeded to blow it up. Then he twisted and turned it until a beautiful gold giraffe was presented to me.
“Guess not,” I said, looking over to Teddy. He was not amused. I, however, was beside myself.
“Hey Bippo, can you swallow swords,” shouted my friend Jeff.
Again no response from Bippo. Instead, hundreds of gold handkerchiefs came pouring out of his sleeve. I remembered the magic from the circus. This was even better.
My friends let out a collective sigh.
The next half hour was more of the same. Bippo tried his clown hardest, but my friends would have nothing of it. My parents retreated to the house in shame. I, naturally, hooted and hollered my approval with each passing trick. Bippo persevered, but was clearly out of his element there. No matter, it was my birthday and my present and I for one couldn’t have been happier. Or so I thought…
When Bippo was out of tricks, he gave a hurried bow and went in the house to collect his wages. My friends sat and ate their cake. I followed my gift inside.
“A hundred fifty, please,” he said to my father.
Bippo could talk.
I walked around to the living room and listened from there, out of site.
“Sorry for all this,” my mother said. “but it’s what he wanted.”
“No problem. He definitely seemed to enjoy it,” Bippo said. My parents, I was sure, were not happy with the response.
“Could I use your restroom to change?” he asked. “It’s easier driving in street clothes.”
“Sure, down the hall to the left,” my father answered.
I shot down the hall lightening fast.
The hallway bathroom was connected to my parent’s bedroom as well. I could see into the bathroom if the door was left slightly ajar. My mind was racing at the thought.
A few moments later, Bippo came into the bathroom with a duffle bag. He flicked on the light and closed the door that led back to the hallway. He didn’t notice the door behind him that led to my parent’s bedroom. I pressed my eyeball to the crack to take it all in.
Bippo took the gloves, hair and nose off first. He had short, wavy brown hair. Not the gold I had hoped for, but nice nonetheless. Then he reached into his duffle and took out a tube and a towel. He applied some kind of grease to his face to remove the makeup. It took several minutes to get it all off. Then I got a good look at him from the reflection in the mirror. Bippo was no more than nineteen or twenty. Much younger than I expected. And handsome. The makeup hid it well.
The tie came off next and then the jacket. I gulped in anticipation. He then sat on the toilet to remove his shoes. I half expected size twenty-five feet. Maybe clowns were secretly aliens and not crooks that were hiding out from the police.
Nope, the removal of the shoes showed that Bippo had normal sized feet. Too bad.
The shirt came off next. Bippo was hairy. I didn’t know that guys that young could have so much chest hair. It was nice. Exotic actually. My father was hairless there. I was probably doomed to the same. Bippo was a whole other animal than us. He looked at his chest in the mirror and flexed. He had obviously been working out a lot. His muscles were defined and sinewy. His stomach was flat and downy and ripped. Mine heaved. I grabbed for my crotch in anticipation of what was coming next.
The belt slipped off, as did the pants. Bippo wore no underwear. I couldn’t imagine such a thing. I thought underwear was mandatory. I was glad to be wrong and was greeted to a nice, firm hairy ass in my face. When he stood up, I could see a whole naked Bippo. His dick was hairy too. And nicely bent to the side. His balls were big. Much bigger than mine, but my dick was longer. I suppose at sixteen we are fully equipped. By then, mine was solid as a rock.
Bippo didn’t redress right away. Instead he continued flexing and posing in front of the mirror, clearly happy with what he saw, as was I. Then I watched as his dick slowly grew and grew and grew, much like the balloon that he blew up for me earlier did. The result was equally as amazing. I took my own out to see whose was bigger. Mine was a clear winner, but his had more girth. I stroked mine as I watched. Bippo did the same.
I was getting more out of my birthday gift than expected.
Then Bippo sat down on the toilet again and continued his stroking. Now he was facing the door. The door I was standing behind as I played with myself. Still, I pressed my eye to the crack. It was too late to do anything else. Besides, I was fairly frozen to the spot by that time.
Bippo coughed and reached for the doorknob.
“Happy birthday,” he said, as he eased the door open.
“Thanks,” was all I could think to say.
“Is that my tip?” he asked, pointing at my erect dick, which I was still absentmindedly stroking.
At sixteen, I was fearless. Hormones pretty much override common sense.
“Hmm,” I said, inching into the room, “seems like an awfully big tip.”
“I think that my show was worth it,” he said, reaching out to my dick.
“I think this show is worth it,” I said, letting him pull me towards him.
“Can you tie it into a giraffe though?” I asked.
“No, but I can do this with it,” he said, sliding it into his lovely mouth. Maybe he was no sword swallower, but this was definitely better.
I watched as my sixteen-year-old cock glided in and out. I noticed a splash of white on my pubic hairs that had rubbed off from his face. I loved the thought that his clown makeup was now on my private parts. My dick throbbed, but Bippo slowed down in time to stop the eruption.
“Not yet, birthday boy,” he said, standing up. “Take your pants off and lay down on the floor.”
I did as my clown commanded.
He took the gold nose from the countertop and slowly and gently rubbed it over my balls as he again worked his mouth around my cock. The feeling was indescribable. Bippo had clearly done this before.
I looked down and watched as his head bobbed up and down and noticed some golden glitter on my thigh and belly. It felt like he was sprinkling me with his magic.
Then Bippo slid in next to me and looked me deep in the eyes before he gave me my sweet sixteen birthday kiss. His lips tasted like gold too and his hand was now stroking my wet cock. I reached over and matched his rhythm.
“Ready?” he breathed into my ear.
“Ready,” I moaned, as we both came, each twitching on the floor as we ejaculated together.
“Bippo?” I said, after a few moments had passed and I had regained my breath. “Are you an escaped criminal?”
“Nope,” he said.
“An alien?’ I asked.
“Mmm, nope. Just a senior in high school,” he answered. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
He smiled and kissed me again. Then we cleaned up and he went out the hallway door and I went back to my parent’s bedroom.
***
Sixteen was a good year for me. And a great birthday. But seventeen was better. No arguments about the learner’s permit or the car this time. And Bippo lived only a fifteen-minute car ride away. Who needs the circus when you have your own clown to enjoy?
Copyright © 2003 Rob Rosen
|
