The Cocque de Soleil (MF) Part 1

Prelude

It was a hot summer’s night in the small town of Rye – the kind that causes the yearning young mind to wander with lustful desires, lubricated by the humid air and gentle cricket-chirps. It was on this night every year, for as far back as he could remember, that The Cocque de Soleil would pitch its bulging tent on the village green.

From a young age Sean had dreamt of the sensual riches the tent held, watching jealously from outside the titillating violet canvas as adults young and old gathered to marvel at the erotic spectacles it enshrouded. Once, at the age of 13, he had tried to sneak into the Cocque, but his readily apparent pre-pubescence meant he was easily caught and removed from the premise; a grunt of “over eighteens only” the only explanation offered to him. The collective moans and groans of an enraptured crowd captivated the heart and mind of the young Sean – the beginning of an itch with but one means of scratching.

This year, eighteen years of age, Sean would finally behold the mysteries of The Cocque de Soleil.

Chapter 1 – The Auditorium

Sean was aquiver with anticipation as he was herded with the languid crowds into the singular, dark slit of an entrance – the violet curtains like the petals of a vibrant flower guiding the thirsty swarm into the sweet, succulent nectar The Cocque de Soleil offered at its heart. As the crowd was seated and the auditorium filled, an intensifying musk pervaded the air. From his vantage point in the center of the upper circle, Sean took in the mise en scène.

Gazing upward, a dark shadow obscured the furthest reaches of the big top from vision, bestowing the interior with a cavernous sense belied by the Cocque’s outward appearance. Descending from the pitch-black peak, the innards of the tent were dimly lit by a warm, scarlet glow, radiating from phallic candles picketing a simple stage, absent of distracting props. The stage’s warm, pink curtains caught his eye and, squinting, Sean was able to determine an ornate pattern depicting anonymous actors in a multitude of sexual scenes, much like an ancient Greek tapestry.

The collective hormones of the amassing attendees penetrating his nostrils, Sean was suddenly aware of a dull pulse between his thighs, denoting the gradual hardening of his cock. The beat of his heart pumping blood to his member set a rhythm to the tribal drone of the audience’s murmurings. With fewer and fewer empty seats remaining, the hum-drum rose to a crescendo and Sean could feel the throb in his loins grow quicker and heavier. The sound filled his very being – heart pounding, palms sweating – squirming in his seat, a feeling of panic creeping in, the worry that he may succumb too soon to ecstasy, before the show had even begun!
Then the lights went out and all was silent.

A spotlight beamed down onto the stage, illuminating a feminine, leather mannequin holding a whip. The mannequin’s eyes opened, pearly sclera contrasting the black of the polished leather hugging a slender yet amply endowed figure, and Sean realised that it was in fact a woman.

The whip cracked, cutting through the hormone-drugged silence.

“Ladies and gentlemen!”

The commanding tone enraptured all.

“I am Dominique Trix, your hostess for the evening. Tonight, on this most sordid of evenings, it is my pleasure to welcome you to The Cocque de Soleil!”

Chapter 2 – The First Performance

With the crowd held in anticipatory quiet, the pink curtains opened to reveal the first act. Sean checked his program – it read Act I: Sheba, The Six-Titted Goddess – what on Earth could he be install for!

Dominique stepped aside as a second woman clad in a dark silk robe, her face hidden behind a bejeweled veil, strode to the middle of the stage. She gazed across the audience, ensuring she held each member’s undivided attention. A snare drum rolled and, with a ceremonial cymbal crash, the silk gown was on the floor. Beneath if was a lithe body, her almond skin shimmering in the dim candle light. True to her name, upon Sheba’s chest were three pairs of full, rounded breasts, each punctuated by dark nipples, which with exposure were now beginning to harden. Music filled the tent – a sultry, ethnic rhythm – and the inexplicably endowed body began to sway.

Sheba’s body rippled to the pulse of the music, leaning back side-on but never breaking eye contact with her audience. Each set of breasts hypnotically rose in sync, glistening in the humid air. Her hands massaged each tit in turn, roaming her supple body until they reached the top of the light, well-groomed bush of her feminine area – at which point she appeared overcome, her eyes rolling back; her lips emitting an euphoric groan.

Sheba slinked across to Dominique, who promptly grabbed an ample handful, squeezing the womanly flesh with her gloved fingers. Heightening arousal instinctively guided Sean’s right hand along his trousers to his groin. Assumedly sensing this, Dominique flashed a wry smile to the audience, before sticking her tongue in Sheba’s mouth.

The pair writhed, mouth to mouth, with Sheba rubbing her magnificent multitude of breasts against the cool leather that clung to Dominique’s body. Then, parting with a lingering touch, Sheba sauntered forward towards the first row or the crowd. Sean could only look on with jealousy as she grabbed the back of one man’s hand and thrust it into her bosom, letting out a rousing groan as she shook her many boobs in the man’s face. Saliva from the giddy volunteer traced down the protracted cleavage, his arms flailing like a man suffocating. The struggle heightened and, before he was asphyxiated between the womanly flesh, he was released from Sheba’s grasp, panting and smiling.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to need a volunteer for the next part of our show!”

The baying crowd all raised their hands into the air, calls of ME! filling the tent. Looking longingly at Sheba’s abundant breasts, Sean hoped beyond hope that he may be the lucky selectee. Heart pounding with excitement, Sean added his pleas to the cries of the pack.

Grinning, Dominique produced a large, fluorescent blue dildo from the side of stage and launched it into the horny horde. Clambering and grappling as it fell amongst them, like a pack of stray dogs fighting over a bone, a middle-aged man emerged holding the synthetic member aloft victoriously.

“We have a winner – come on down!”

The volunteer shuffled onto the stage, now clutching the dildo to his chest, like a child afraid of losing their favourite toy. Sheba and Dominique welcomed him, standing on either side, gently touching is red polo shirt and stroking his shoulders.

“Now, who do we have here?”

The volunteer smiled awkwardly, suddenly finding shyness before of the jealous anticipation of Sean and the audience.

“Uh, hi, I’m Adam.”

“Adam! Well, welcome to The Cocque de Soleil – and it looks like you have quite the cock yourself.”

Both performers began to stroke Adam’s trousers, where a bulge slowly formed. Guiding him to a chair center stage, Dominique kissed him on the lips and, whilst distracted, Sheba whipped his trousers off, his aroused penis springing to attention. Pushing him onto the chair, the duo worked buckles at Adam’s hands and feet, strapping Adam in and fixing him to the chair.

“Tell me Adam, have you ever had a tit-wank before?”

Realisation of what was about to happen dawned on Adam’s spectacled face.

“Uh, I, no. I have not.”

Dominique and Sheba shared a giggle.

“Well, you’re in for a real treat then.”

Producing a small bottle, Sheba poured a shimmering lubricant down the front of her body, massaging the oil into each of her six breasts in turn. She then descendent upon Adam’s awaiting cock.

Chapter 3 – An eruptive interlude

Spent, quivering and covered in his own semen, a still trouserless Adam was helped off stage by Sheba, who smiled and waved to rapturous applause as she left. Dominique also applauded.

“Wow, what a performance that was. Thank you Sheba, and a very special thank you to Adam!”

Sean, with the image of Adam’s dick writhing between Sheba’s six tits still playing in his mind, was barely aware that the next performance was soon to start. He had been greedily touching himself with closed eyes, imagining it was he that Sheba was pleasuring. Dominique cracked her whip to bring the hall’s attention back to her, startling Sean into blowing his load upon the program he’d been using to hide his masturbation. The pressure in his body released through orgasm, a creeping shame entered Sean, and he looked around to see if anyone had caught his misdemeanour.

He needn’t have worried. With quick glances left and right, it was apparent that others were also indulging themselves – the silence of the audience was punctuated by individual orgasmic moans, and Sean’s eye was caught by a woman several seats to his left who was massaging an exposed breast and manoeuvring a hand up her own skirt.

With a deep breath of the hormone-soaked air, Sean discarded his soiled program on the auditorium floor. One act in, he had to pace himself if he was to have any energy for what (and who) was to come.

The show had only just begun.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6nm5gv/the_cocque_de_soleil_mf_part_1