Clown Smut One-Shots

Samantha

Samantha finished sliding her tools into their case when the bell on the front desk dinged. Turning, her long chestnut hair sliding over her white-t-shirted shoulder, Samantha called out,

"We're closed!" A simple squeaking noise filled the back room at the morgue. Damnit, she thought, Richie forgot to lock up again. The squeaking got closer. Samantha felt her heart start to bear a little faster. Dead people had always comforted her, but now their ominous presence prickled her tan skin.

"Hello?"

Squeak squeak

Flashbacks to her sixteenth birthday party started running through her head. When her father had dressed up as a clown. The day she knew clowns were her fetish. Her elusive dream. The one thing she could never ask a partner to dress up as but the only thing that would give her ultimate pleasure.

Again, another squeak. Samantha clutched a hand to her chest, grabbing at imaginary pearls.

"Who's there?" Samantha took at step forwards, her high black heels clicking on the stone floor. Suddenly, a clown came around the corner. The clown towered tall, the white and polka-dotted costume rustling as its large red shoes squeaked against the floor. Looking up at the persons face, she saw that they weren't even wearing a mask. It was real, pasty white clown make up.

Her insides melted and she had to grab the metal draining table, clenching her legs together.

The clown was a tall man, probably one foot taller than Samantha's five foot five height. His curly brown hair made like a halo around his head and his fake, red-painted smile became a real one as he took in her small figure.

"Hello." His voice was a deep rumble, like rolling thunder over a wet, cloudy sky. Except on this situation she bottom half was the wet sky and she wanted his thunder all over her.

"H-h-hi," Samantha stammered, suddenly self-conscious of her stained, white working jacket.

"Like I said before: were closed." The man just smirked, stepping closer. Samantha knew he could see that she didn't care if what he was doing was not right. All she wanted was him on top of her.

"I heard you liked clowns." Samantha's breath turned ragged as the man came so close to touching her with his body. He was mere breaths away.

"How'd you know?"

"Someone named Clyde whispered it through the grapevine that it was someone's birthday and that they deserved a special treat." Samantha gasped. Had Clyde found her secret stash of clown sex toys? Of the cork board covered with clowns in her closet? Or her shrine to Pennywise that she'd made after her first night of rough sex with a man dressed up as Pennywise. Deciding not to think about it and just be grateful she had such an amazing fiancé, Samantha stepped away, unbuttoning her white work coat and letting it slide to the floor. Revealing a tight lavender dress beneath.

The clown's hands wrapped around her waist, and Samantha felt her chest become heavy underneath the fabric of her bra and dress. As he bent down Samantha asked,

"What's your name."

"You can call me Mr. Wiggles." Samantha giggled at the silly name as the clown–no, Mr. Wiggles–kissed beneath her ear. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his kissed trailed up to her mouth, and when his pasty, painted lips met hers Samantha moaned into his mouth, and he grabbed her waist, hoisting her up onto the cold draining table. His tongue flicked into her mouth and Samantha wrapped her legs around him, her dress bunching around her hips. Revealing the lacy thong she had been wearing for Clyde, vastly different from the clown underwear she usually wore.

Mr. Wiggle's hands pushed up her dress, tugging it past her head as they broke their ragged, messy kiss. The dress was hardly off before Samantha pulled his face back to hers, and then after a moment, Wiggles began his descent downwards. His expert hands running across her smooth skin, Mr. Wiggles unclasped her bra, his hands moving around to cup her chest.

"Mmm, you're beautiful," he murmured, and Samantha moaned as he massaged her breasts. Then, he stepped back, and Samantha gasped at the sudden cold against her heated skin. She watched in awe as he unzipped his clown suit, letting the large suit flutter to the floor.

Samantha pulled him to her, and she laid down, still in her underwear and heels. Mr. Wiggles slid his hands up her legs, spreading them even wider. Beholding the wet sop of her panties, Mr. Wiggles chuckled, pulling them up her legs and throwing them down. Spreading her legs as far apart as they could go, Mr. Wiggles got down on his knees, pulling her close and running his fingers over her.

As his fingers began to massage her Samantha gripped her breasts, rubbing them with her smooth, graceful fingers.

As Mr. Wiggles pushed his fingers into her, Samantha heard footfalls. Mr. Wiggles didn't stop as his fingers relentlessly pumped in and out of her.

"Wiggles," Samantha breathed, but he didn't stop.

"Mr. Wiggles!" Samantha cried out, right as whoever was walking to the backroom came upon them.

"Oh, Sam, don't stop on my account." Samantha recognized that voice.

"Clyde?" He didn't answer, instead, he came up next to her head, stroking her hair as Wiggles picked himself up, bracing himself over her and starting to slide into her. Samantha moaned and she felt herself start to reach her climax as Wiggles began furiously pounding into her. Samantha arched, screaming, as Clyde watched over her, his eyes glazed, and Mr. Wiggles banging into her.

"Oh, Mr. Wiggles!" Samantha screamed. Mr. Wiggles pulled out of her, and Samantha collapsed onto the table, gasping, her hands had fallen to her sides and her heels also having fallen. Samantha heard the men exchange money or something of the sort, and then Clyde came back into her vision.

"Happy Birthday, Samantha."

I hope you guys liked this??? I know it was really weird, but anyways, I didn't want to do anything too bad for the first chapter.