The Clown's Climax

"Wait, you mean she's not a lesbian?"

"Nope," said Tanya to the pink-haired girl, watching three women in skating gear help Phoebe tighten some leather straps around her waist. "Straight as a ruler. Never even kissed a girl before today."

"But, I... wait."

"I think she's just drunk?"

"Did she even have anything to drink?"

"I don't know!"

Emily tried to protest as Phoebe advanced on her, wearing an evil smile and something very scary over her yoga pants, but it came out as a helpless little squeal of pleasure. The clowns had moved on to playing with her clit now. She didn't know how a bunch of clowns had gotten so good at the clit, but she couldn't fault their technique. They were hitting all her secret spots exactly how she liked them to be hit, and the result was visible on her face, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

"I'm... I'm not kissing that..." she managed to squeak out.

"It's a kissing booth. You have to kiss anything I give you."

"No I don't!"

"Kiss it," said Phoebe, patiently, "or I'm going to take off your shirt and throw it up in that tree."

Emily's **** lips met the tip of the purple strap-on. She licked it up and down, lapping at the shaft in imitation fellatio as the clowns continued their relentless **** on her pussy. Phoebe twined her fingers through her blonde hair, grinning down at her. And what was that she felt from behind, probing at the entrance to her love garden? Was it...

...oh, no!

The strap-on slid in between Emily's lips at the exact same moment that the clown's cock slid into her pussy. She felt herself double-teamed, spitroasted, a public spectacle penetrated at both ends. The roller derby girls were all laughing at her, standing around cheering as Phoebe expertly fucked her mouth, making her suck a big fake penis like a worthless little loser while the whole world watched. She felt... she felt...

...oh, god, she was almost there. The clown cock pumped inside her, filling her up, making her feel warm and wet and electric all over. She was enjoying it! She was actually enjoying being fucked by what she assumed was a creepy haunted animatronic clown! And everyone could see! Everyone could see she was about to... about to...

...wait, come back!

She felt a warm splatter across her bottom. Then nothing.

The strap-on was pulled out of her mouth. Phoebe gave her cheek a little slap as she lay there, panting, red-faced, feeling clown cum trickle down her buttocks. Stupid clowns! No endurance whatsoever! You'd think this was only their first time with a woman!

She rubbed her legs together, her pussy still tingling, trying to light a spark. Nothing. There was just no way for her to stimulate herself. She might as well have been wearing a chastity belt.

But she hadn't finished! She was still so fucking wet! Come back, clown!

She looked up into Phoebe's laughing eyes, and realised she probably shouldn't be trying to masturbate in public. Good girls didn't do that. There was a rule about it. She was a good girl, and she was just going to lie there in the kissing booth, trying to regain her composure and pretending she wasn't soaked from the waist down with pussy juice and clown cum. What the lesbians didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

She felt a hand on her T-shirt.

"We're going to leave you alone now," said Phoebe. "But first, we're going to make some changes to your outfit."