King Missile Leather Clown
Back in elementary school Fourth grade, I think it was I had this friend, Ethan During lunch hour We used to go to eighth street For pizza and jelly donuts Sometimes we got an orange Julius Instead of a donut Sometimes we got the donuts But instead of eating them We'd put them out on the street And wait for cars to drive over them But the most fun we ever had was After eating Sitting on a stoop Exchanging sexual fantasies Sometimes they involved One of our classmates Sometimes It was a movie star And sometimes It was our teacher Who we both suspected Was sexually repressed Sometimes I claimed My stories were real Like the story about the leather clown She had short, spiky black hair Small, but perfectly formed breasts And was always kitted out In the same outfit Leather skirt Fishnet stockings Floppy shoes A big, red nose A pair of leather wrist bracelets With spikes A big, red smile painted on And a big, shiny horn Which she would honk and honk during sex Until she had an orgasm Whenever the circus would come to town I would tell Ethan all kinds of kinky Clown-domination stories Involving the leather clown Like the time She forced me to have sex with her In the little car Or the time She kept spraying me With the seltzer bottle Until I obeyed her every command Ethan and I We laughed and laughed at these tall tales But I could tell Deep down He was wondering Whether the leather clown Was really real or not And I would let him wonder
