Date: Sun, 30 May 2010 21:33:08 +0000 From: Neil N. Blow Subject: Birthday Clown Having a bratty little Brother is a pain in the ass. My parents had him nearly a decade after I was born - a clear accident. And I think, in retrospect, they spoiled him as a result - not wanting him to feel unwanted or unloved. So he got whatever he wanted, as a kid, which made him a spoiled brat. When I was his age, when I had a birthday, we got a few presents and a cake, and many a couple of friends over. His birthday parties were staged events with dozens of kids and special attractions. And this year, they decided to hire a Birthday Clown. The thought of all those bratty kids taking over the house was bad enough. But to have some broken-down alcoholic in a clown suit making balloon animals? It was too much. It was the summer of my Senior year in high school, and I couldn't wait for college to start and to get away from home. But most of my friends had summer jobs, so there was no where I could really go to hang out. And besides, Mother insisted I stay to help with bratty Brother's party. I helped her with the decorations and setting up folding tables. You'd think the little brat would help, but no, he was too precious to lend a hand. As soon as I could, I beat a hasty retreat to my bedroom - my only sanctuary in the home, and "off limits" to the brat. The doorbell rang, and my Mother shouted "would you get it Tim?" up the stairs, and I reluctantly put down my book and headed down. At least she had stopped calling me "Timmy" - I could be thankful for that much. I answered the door and a middle-aged man was standing at the door. Behind him, at the curb, was a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, painted up with balloons and a sign on the door that read, "Bosco The Clown - Available for Birthdays, Parties, Bar Mitzvahs". Bar Mitzvahs? I'll bet he didn't book a lot of those. "I'm here for the party," he said, "Is there some place I can get changed?" He gestured toward the suitcase he was carrying. He didn't look much like a clown, more like someone's Dad. "Uh, sure," I replied, "Maybe upstairs". Just then Mom came around the corner, and said "Oh, you're Bosco! - Timmy, quick get him upstairs before Billy sees him, I want it to be a surprise!" So much for her promise to stop calling me "Timmy". So I led him upstairs to the guest room, which is across the hall from my room, and said "You can change here". It used to be my Sister's room, before she left for college, and before she got married. It had a large makeup mirror and vanity, that would work well for him. I went across the hall and back to my room, flopping on the bed and going back to my "Best Science Fiction Short Stories of 1968". I left the door open, and across the hall, I could see "Bosco the Clown" slowly come into being. It was sort of mesmerizing, how this non-descript, middle-aged man transformed himself into almost a cartoon character. It wasn't just the costume, or the big shoes, and not just the wig of green hair and the white pancake makeup. Something transformed in him, as he dressed, that changed him from some average schmuck into a circus star. Now clowns have always creeped me out, and I am not sure why. As a little kid, they always scared me. They looked larger than life and the bright painted makeup was too gaudy and loud. And the over-sized red nose and painted red lips, well, it looked like a gaping vagina and clitoris on someone's face. Maybe, subconsciously, that is what it was supposed to represent. As I became a teenager, however, clowns took on a different aspect. I recognized them as adults, and as a young Gay boy, I realized that as Men, they were also sexual beings. The contrast of the painted-face, costumed character hiding the sexual male underneath was somehow erotic in a very weird sort of way. But I put that all out of my mind and returned to my fuming over bratty Brother's birthday party. I was in a bad mood, and wanted to nurse it and relish it. The little shit - always getting what he wanted, and now here, my entire afternoon ruined as a result of it. My ruminations were shattered by a loud horn. Standing in my bedroom door was Bosco The Clown, fully transformed, honking his brass bicycle horn. "Honk, Honk! Hey Kid! Why so blue? Bosco the Clown is here!" I had to smile at his earnest antics. He really projected that he cared how I felt. "Sorry, just thinking," I replied, "I'm not looking forward to a house full of bratty kids all afternoon." "Honk, Honk!" He laughed, "Hey, welcome to my world, kiddo." And with that he turned and left. The kids had started to arrive and as Bosco came down the stairway, I could hear them cheer. "It's Bosco the Clown!" I went back to my book and got deeply engrossed in an Asimov short story. I looked out the back window occasionally and saw Bosco making balloon animals for the kids and, well, clowning around. I had to admit, he was good at it, and good with kids, keeping them all in line and concentrating on the games and activities and keeping everyone happy. I guess for Mom, it was money well spent. At one point, I looked down and saw Bosco at the exact same time he looked up at me. For a split second, we made eye contact, and he winked at me and smiled. It was like he was looking right into me, for a brief instant, and I had to look away quickly and let the venetian blinds close with a clatter. I must have dozed off at that point, because the next thing I remember was Mom hollering up the stairs, "Timmy!" Again with the "Timmy!" Sheesh, I'm 18 years old. "Timmy! I'm taking the kids home! Show Bosco where the bathroom is, will you?" The kids were all saying goodbyes and Mom was loading up those whose parent's couldn't pick them up into the minivan to drive them home. Fortunately, bratty Brother was going with them, no doubt to bask some more in his birthday pleasure. That left me and Bosco, alone. As the front door slammed and the last kids clomped down the front steps, I turned to Bosco, and said, nervously, "uh, its up this way." I lead Bosco up the stairs. There was a sudden tension, when you are alone with anyone. And as a young gay man, who jerked off all day long thinking about men, being alone with a man always created some extra tension. I led him down the hall to the guest bathroom, and gestured inside the door. "Thanks, kid" he said, "I've had to piss like a racehorse all afternoon!" And without closing the door, he unsnapped the thin cotton cloth of his costume and pulled out the most enormous cock I had ever seen and almost immediately started pissing in the toilet. I was so taken aback by this that all I could do was just stand there and stare. I was mesmerized by that cock, and not only that, the contrast between the soft hairy flesh of it, and the eye-popping colors of his costume and makeup. Here was this cartoon creature, a caricature, with this all-too-real man-ness poking out of it. I guess I must have been staring at his cock a long time, because he was nearly done pissing when he turned and looked at me and smirked, "You like what you see, boy?" I nearly had a heart attack. Called out for checking out his cock. And yet the smile on his face seemed to say he didn't mind. "I thought you might like cock," he continued, "Bosco the clown can tells which boys are fags". He shook the last few drops of piss off his cock and then turned to face me, and started stroking it slowly. I felt like my feet were frozen in position. He looked me up and down as he stroked that cock. "Hmmmmmmm, Pretty boy Timmy, " he nearly whispered, "Why don't you kneel down and suck Bosco?" As if in a dream I took one step forward into the bathroom, then another, and then knelt down in front of him. I looked up at his face, painted white, his green hair, and his colorful costume. And then my gaze dropped to that dick in front of me. "Bosco likes blowjobs from boys like Timmy" he said, and shuffled forward until the head of his cock was in front of my mouth, "open wide!" Instinctively, I opened my mouth and took his soft manhood inside me. He let out a sigh and then started to thrust his cock in. I had sucked off some men in the park on a few occasions, but it was awkward and quick. Bosco was going to take his time. He explored my mouth with his cock, an inch at a time, until he had it nearly shoved down my throat. I moaned and reached down and grabbed at my own crotch, as he set up an steady in-and-out rhythm. "God, I wanted to fuck your mouth the moment I saw you," He said. And fuck me he did, thrusting in and out, until, moments later, he reached a gasping climax, ejaculating in my mouth. I felt his large gloved hand on the back of my head. "Bosco says swallow!" he laughed. I complied, and felt his warm semen wash down the back of my throat. Pulling his cock out my mouth, he patted me on the head. "Good Boy! One of Bosco's special friends!" And then, like that, he removed his over-sized shoes and started to undress. As each piece of the costume came off, I saw Bosco transform back into an average-looking middle-aged man. He ran the water in the sink and removed the clown makeup. Within a few minutes, the transformation was complete. Packing his things back into his suitcase, he started to leave. "Thanks for the blowjob, kid, you give good head. Maybe I'll see you around sometime!" I followed him to the front door. As I opened the door, there was Mom and the brat, just coming back from dropping off the other kids. "Oh!" she said, "Are you still here? I thought you'd have left a while ago! Did you get my check?" "Yes Ma'am" the man who was Bosco replied, "Thanks again" and he turned and winked at me. "Your hospitality was excellent". I watched him walk down the drive and into his yellow Volkswagen. I never saw Bosco again after that. But whenever the Circus is in town, I always go. I just love the clowns.