Jaded? Bored? Looking for something exotic and different?

How about a look-see at dwarf Jeremy Small's Mr. Not-So-Small? How about the loving embrace of the Tarantula Man with his two extra arms and his three extra eyes, none of the latter seeing anything? Or, might you prefer a liaison with Dog Boy, or with the Bearded Lady, or with the Human Cannon Ball...?

All of the above are available, but not on the cheap. Money, often lots of it, is what gets you access to after-hours special acts performed by those otherwise removed from the spotlights by doo-gooders who successfully black-tar circus sideshows as immoral and inhumane. No matter that sideshows provided so many "special people" for so long with decent livelihoods for themselves and for their families.

Or, might you prefer doing "it" on an elephant, or between the humps of a camel, or in a tiger's cage, or even hanging from the high trapeze, accompanied by Circus Six's center-ring stars available for fun and gamesif you've the hard cash (and hard whatever) needed to join them?

Darrel Winestein, the Tattooed Man, is unavailable for extreacurricular bookings for reasons detailed in circuSex.

I STILL HAD TROUBLE BELIEVING THAT I SAW WHAT I SAW.

The one wall of the shower stall that faced me, from across the room and slightly down the hall, was opaque. Once Darrel was latched inside, washed down with water, he continually pressed segments of his wet body against the inside glass. Each time he did so, whatever tattoos were inked on thos esegments of his wet skin miraculously appeared, only vaguely distorted through the glass on my side. It was as if I viewed a heaily misted jungle, jugsts of wind constantly blowiong away bits of themist to unveil an exotic flower here, a succulent plant there, a monkey, a peccary, a parrot, a large-winged butterfly. When Darrel pressed his ass hard against the glass and provided for my viewing pelasure the head of the jaguar that was tattooed, whiskers and all, on the canvas provided by both of Darrel's firm buttcheeks, my cock leaked a gneuine flood of preseiminal goo in appreciation.

His anaconda of gree-and-black indelible inks was a genuine sight to behold. It anchored its tail over the instep of his right foot, curled its thickly sensuous body counterclockwise around his right leg, up and over his righ hip, onto his stomach and into a narrow oxbow up and over his knotted navel, bfore it flowed straigh down to his shaveds cortch, and narrowed only slightly as it blossomed three-dimensional aong the thick neck of his cock (snakehead and cockhead one and the same).