Some losses are impossible to survive. I certainly felt that way when my wife of eight years was killed by a drunk driver. There were days when it weighed so heavily on me that I couldn't breathe. The only thing that got me through was the need to be strong for our two children.

Our son was barely three years old at the time. He barely remembers a time when it wasn't just the three of us. Our daughter was six years old. Right from the start, she made it her mission in life to make sure her little brother knew that they had mother who loved them, and that sometimes when it rained, it was tears from their mother in heaven because she missed us all.

In the seven years that have passed since that awful night, there may have been times that I missed having female companionship, but I used my loss as a shield and put the needs of my children first. The three of us were our own family unit, and that was that.

Sometimes, I swear my daughter uses my focus against me. When she was eight, she decided that 'real families' live in houses, and our small apartment wasn't good enough for us. I laughed it off. She batted her big blue eyes and asked for a dog instead. The next thing I knew, we owned a St Bernard, and then we had to buy a house with a yard for the dog.

She was always doing things like that, and I guess I allowed them to happen.

Given the magnitude of some of her schemes, I easily fell for her latest one. One of her friends in the neighborhood was not doing well, health wise, and all of her friends were working with the girl's mother to throw a big party for the girl's birthday. The theme was clowns, and my daughter wanted me to participate. She expected me to go all out, with a real outfit and face paint and giant shoes and everything. She gave me that look, and I couldn't refuse.

In case you didn't know it, the Internet is an evil place. It didn't take my daughter more than five minutes to find a Clown College in the Chicago suburbs, and then enrol me in a one-day class. The college helped me discover my inner sad-faced-happy-clown, and they even rented me the shoes and outfit. I had to learn to do the face-paint for myself.

On the day of the party, my kids left early to go help set up. The girl's family lived on the street behind ours and only a few houses down, so the kids walked down through the backyards like they always did.

I took my time to get the clown outfit and face-paint right. I waited until I heard a bunch of kids playing, and then headed down through the backyards to join them. I'm certain more than a few of our neighbors saw me and laughed.

My shtick was that I was a dinosaur watcher, and I was eager to log a sighting of a big sharp-tooth. I had a long balloon twisted with two loops on each end like a bizarre pair of binoculars. I had all of the kids laughing when I exclaimed about the "Katie-osaurus" and the "Billy-osaurus". Then I astounded them as I started inflating balloons and folding them into various dinosaur shapes.

It took me a while to win over the birthday girl. I hadn't realized that she had some sort of spinal disorder and that she was wheel-chair bound. She liked that the other kids were having fun running around with their balloons, but she was very reserved due to her limitations.

I finally got a smile from her when I dubbed her "The Inventor", and as she made up names of dinosaurs, I created them with balloons. The neighborhood is likely to be overrun with robin-osaurs and deer-osaurs and even bicycle-osaurs for weeks!

After a while, someone declared it was time for cake, and all of the kids rallied to sing for the birthday girl and load up on sugar. I took that as my cue to say goodbye and head out in search of more dinosaurs. Again, I saw more than a few of my neighbors laugh and shake their heads when they saw me.

After I got home, it took more than a little time to get cleaned up. I expected the kids to be home by the time I was done, but I got a phone call instead. One of the other mothers volunteered to make dinner for the birthday girl, and my kids were invited along.

There was a bit of a weird tone in my daughter's voice when she called. She said that I was invited along as well, but her tone seemed to imply that I shouldn't accept. She reminded me that I had mentioned a project I wanted to work on, she suggested that I would get more done in a quiet house. I gave permission for the kids to go, and I promised I would feed myself. I even considered working on the project.

Two minutes later, there was a tapping at my back door. The woman that was knocking had been at the birthday party, but I didn't know her name. I doubt I would have recognized her if she hadn't been still wearing her clown wig. She still had colorful dots painted on her cheeks as well.

She seemed a bit nervous as she introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Brianna, and I'm Kayla's mom," she said.

I was pretty sure that Kayla was the birthday girl, but I wasn't really paying attention to the children's names.

"I haven't seen her smile the way you made her smile since she had to start using the chair," the woman continued, confirming my guess. Her eyes seemed to intently study my face as she said, "I wanted to come thank you, and I have a very forward favor to ask of you. Please promise that if I ask and you say 'no' that you'll just forget I asked and just accept my thanks."

"Hello, Brianna, I'm Mike, and I'm sure you know which two of that rabble belong to me," I answered. "I'm glad that I made your daughter happy, but you have to know that I was really there to make my daughter happy. The fact that you've gone out of your way to come deliver your thanks is more than enough."

"Oh, okay," she answered with a smile that almost looked forced.

"You sound disappointed," I suggested. "Perhaps you should ask your favor."

For some reason, she blushed, but her eyes were clear as they studied my face again.

She sounded nervous again as she asked, "Would you put on some of the face paint for me? And maybe the hair, and the jacket?" Her final words were barely audible. She saw my questioning look, and in a rush, she explained, "It's just that I've always had a thing for clowns and I really liked how you weren't creepy or scary and my fantasies ran out of control in my head and..." Her words finally slowed, and she finished, "I was hoping to give the clown a kiss to thank him."

I almost refused. I could only imagine how much trouble it would cause if I shared a kiss with her. What would her husband say? What would the neighbors say when word got out? How would I protect my kids from the scandal that would surely follow.

There was something in the way that Brianna's big green eyes reminded me of my daughter's big blue eyes. I knew that I would have to manage the consequences later, but I was going to give this woman what she wanted. I started to lean in to give her a kiss.

"No, wait," she said desperately, and I pulled back in shock. She saw the look on my face and quickly added, "The paint and the hair. Please!"

The look in her eyes was beyond intriguing. I smiled and beckoned her to follow me. I led her to the garage, where I had a corner set up for my clown adventure. I swear her breath caught when she saw the bright jacket and baggy pants hanging beside a small desk with a mirror.

I gave her an apologetic look as I shucked off my t-shirt and sat in front of the mirror. She stood behind me and watched as I opened a small case with the face paints.

"Just your cheeks and your eyes would be enough," she said in breathy tones.

I had to focus on my face in the mirror as I started to apply the paint, but in the corner of my vision, I could see her intently watching. It was harder for me to maintain my focus when she leaned in and dabbed her finger in the fresh paint on my cheek. I had to pause to watch the intensity in her eyes as she teased the paint between her thumb and forefinger.

She had my full attention after that. She took a shuddering breath, and then her eyes slid closed in bliss as she rubbed the paint from her finger onto her jaw. I had to turn to watch her, and then we both were startled when my knees collided with her legs.

She gave a shy shrug, and said, "It's a silly fantasy."

I couldn't help but smirk. "Tell me," I softly suggested.

She bit her lips for a moment, and then said, "It isn't about a kiss." Her eyes focused on the area of paint on my cheek. "The paint tells a tale," she said huskily.

Without explaining more, she leaned forward and barely brushed her chin against the paint. Her eyes drifted closed again as she turned her head to nuzzle into my neck. Her chin painted circles down to my collar bone. She drew another shaky breath as she leaned back and gave me an expectant look.

"The paint tells a tale," I said, repeating her words. She almost nodded, and her chin lifted.

A magic magnetic force pulled me forward, and I let my cheek transfer paint onto her neck. The heat of her skin filled my nose, and I couldn't stop my lips from tasting her neck and shoulder. She moaned and then pulled my face back up beside her own.

She quickly swiped her cheek against mine, and then raced down to transfer paint onto my chest. I couldn't believe how much my body reacted to the feel of her teeth and lips. I reacted even harder to the challenging gleam in her eyes when she turned and scraped her teeth across my nipple.

There was no artistry in the way I swiped a blob of paint across my other cheek. I don't think she cared. The gleam in her eyes remained as I pulled her up straight. I all but ripped her shirt from her body. Even as I lifted her shirt up and off, she reached back and released her own bra.

I barely managed to get a glimpse of her breasts before she pulled my face down. She turned her body one way as she pushed my head the other way to ensure that slashes of paint would transfer all over her breasts. I was able to nuzzle back and forth across her flesh, and when she finally stopped forcing things, I was able to pull back and catch her nipple with my tongue and teeth.

She tolerated my attack for a moment or two, but then she pushed me away with a laugh. "Be careful how hard you bite me," she teased. "If you bite me, I bite back," she warned.

"I was following your lead," I suggested, with a glance at my own chest.

With a head shake and a smile, she leaned in and let her teeth scrape my skin again. She gave me another challenging look and said, "When I bite you, you'll know you've been bitten."

Her eyes held mine as she nibbled her way down my body. My teasing reply was trapped in my throat by the speed in which she released my belt and unbuttoned my pants. I stopped breathing when her hands slid down the skin of my hips, and my pants and boxers fell to the floor. I took a deep breath to prepare to scream when she pulled my aching hardness out straight and planted her teeth on the shaft.

Just as quickly, her hard smile faded. Her eyes seemed to beg for something as she released my shaft, and then they filled with raw lust as they followed the trail of paint she had made to the hardness she held. She gave a short, nervous laugh as she pressed her lips where her teeth had been, and then she moaned softly as she turned her head to transfer paint from her cheek to my hip and abs. Her body seemed to shake with need when her eyes met mine. Her eyes smiled at the lust they saw in mine, and then her lips parted and she drew my hardness into her mouth.

I don't remember when I stood up, but suddenly my legs couldn't support me anymore. She followed me down as I collapsed into my chair, and her eyes bragged about how she didn't miss a stroke. I caressed the side of her face, and then I finally found words.

"Brianna, please," I begged. "It's been too long. Slow down or I won't last!"

I was hoping that she would manage to find control, because there was no chance that I would be able to stop her. Her eyes flared at my words, and if anything, she sped up. My prediction came true, and in moments I was filling her mouth. She trembled and purred as she made sure she got every drop.

For a moment, things slowed down. She took her time as she milked my cock to savor the flavors, but she also took time to tease more paint from her skin to mine. When I found that I could breathe again, I knew what I needed to do. By the time she released my spent cock, I had fresh paint on both of my cheeks.

When her eyes met mine again, I gently pulled her to her feet to stand between my legs. I held eye contact with her as I nibbled and kissed her belly and ribs, and I made sure there was plenty of paint on her skin. At the same time, I worked her jeans open, and before too long, her jeans and panties joined my clothes on the floor.

I took my time as I continued to gently nibble and kiss. More paint marked her skin as I swept everything off of the desktop. She smiled expectantly as I pushed her to sit on the desk. The smile held as I lifted her legs to my shoulders, and she watched in rapt attention as I painted my way down each of her legs from her knee to her inner thigh. I think her obsession with watching the paint mark her skin ended when my tongue found her cleft.

"Mike!" she warned in the same tones that I had used when I warned her. My eyes gave her the same warning that hers had given me, and I dove in hard and fast to make her cum. After the slow quest to get there, the speed of my attack surprised her, and she came nearly as quickly as I had. I thanked her with my eyes, and then slowed down to savor the flavors that poured from inside her.

She allowed me to enjoy those flavors while she slowly caught her breath. She gave a deep, happy sigh, and then a bit of worry flitted across her eyes. Her eyes were almost challenging again as she pulled me up to stand between her legs. She pulled my face towards hers, and with an impish smile, her tongue darted out to catch the flavors that covered my chin. I would have kissed her, but she made a point of controlling my head so she could lick up the flavors she found.

We both lost control when my renewed hardness bumped into her still-swollen lower lips.

My eyes might have hardened as I pressed my hips forward to force her to feel how hard I had become while pleasuring her. Her eyes saw the desire in mine, and they nearly smiled to convey her desire. I pulled my hips back to re-aim so I could plunge inside her, and her hand raced to get between us to guide me in.

"Wait!" she gasped, and we both froze. We stared at each other for a moment as we struggle with our desires, and then she managed to say, "We need protection."

For half of a moment, I was stunned. I needed to be inside her, but she was right. I was one-hundred percent certain that I didn't have a condom, and I wasn't sure the moment would survive a break for a trip to the store.

A flash of a notion made me smile. I had a solution, but there was no chance she would go along with it. The need to be inside her made me bold. She saw the smile, and she raised her eyebrow to ask for my idea.

I had to step away from her for just a moment to reach into the pile of stuff I had swept off the desk. Her eyes questioned me when I pulled a long, skinny balloon from the pile. We both knew that even as hard as I was, it was going to take some fancy trickery to roll it into place. Her eyes still questioned me, but she could tell I had a plan.

I quickly blew enough air into the balloon to inflate a couple of inches of it, and then I pushed that air all the way out almost to the end. I squeezed it off right behind the air, and then tore off the excess rubber. I lined the end of my cock up with the tip of the balloon, and then pushed the balloon down over my shaft. As my shaft became encased in the rubber, I released the air, and the faux condom was deployed.

Brianna's laugh was infectious. "Now you have a clown dick," she giggled. Her tone quickly changed as she said, "Get that clown dick inside me!"

For another half of a moment, I was very conflicted. I agreed with her whole-heartedly, but on the other hand, the balloon was almost painfully tight on my shaft. Her fingers found my shaft, and my discomfort was forgotten. I easily slid inside her, and we both were quickly lost in the pleasure that our thrusting created.

Although Brianna was mostly lost in her own pleasure, she was also enjoying pushing my face around to ensure that paint from my face ended up on every body part she could get me to. I think she was getting close to cumming when she finally pulled my face up in front of her own to make eye contact. I smiled at her and tried to push to ensure that we got her over the top. Two strokes later, she kicked her heels into my butt and made me stop.

"What's wrong?" she demanded. She must have seen me wincing with every stroke.

"It's too tight," I reluctantly admitted. "It's okay," I insisted, and with a suggestive wiggle of my hips, I added, "Let's hurry up and make sure you finish."

Her eyes tried to look at our juncture with x-ray vision, and she bit her lip for a moment.

"Take it off," she ordered.

I didn't want to stop, but her tone would not be denied. I reluctantly pulled out, and then I struggle not to sigh out loud at the relief of removing the balloon. I also managed not to sigh out loud when I realized that we were done. I was wrong.

"Let me feel you inside me again," she suggested. "It's been a long time for me, too, and I didn't like not feeling your skin."

Her eyes fluttered shut as I slid back inside. The warmth and the way her body held me were like heaven, and I was prepared to offer her anything she wanted for the chance to stay inside her for a while. She didn't wait for me to ask.

"Do it!" she insisted. "I need you to fuck me and fill me and make me come!"

"Protection..." I stammered, because my brain and mouth refused to work.

"I'll get a pill from Brenda," she insisted as she dug her heels into my ass.

I probably should have asked for more details, because I knew we were taking a chance that would have significant consequences. The wrong head made a decision, and I gave her what she was asking for. If just being inside her was heaven, I have no analogy for how good it was to move with her and feel her arousal grow, and then share our ultimate ecstasy together. It was beyond heaven, and I hoped she was as willing to commit to me as I was to commit to her.

I got my answer when I tried to kiss her.

We were both just starting to catch our breath, and, although she was nearly a complete stranger, I was ready to propose to her. I reasoned that a quick kiss would tell me where her mind was at, and my lips pressed forward to meet hers.

"Mmm, no, Justin, stop!" she objected as she quickly turned her face away to ensure the kiss wouldn't happen. She turned back just as quickly as she gasped, "Mike!" She took a moment to collect her wits, and then she gasped, "Mike, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad, but I have to go."

For the next moment, we were both in shock. I stumbled back from her pushing hand and she lurched and stumbled as she jumped to her feet. She staggered and nearly fell as she tried to scoop up her clothes. I could feel that something was wrong, and I stopped her.

"Brianna, wait," I begged. "We need to clean up first."

Her eyes still looked haunted, but she managed to nod as she looked at her paint-smudged body. Her look changed to one of resignation as she watched me dig through the stuff on the floor and pull out a package of paint-removal wipes. She stood and watched patiently as I dabbed the paint from her cheeks and neck. I got a soft smile from her when I stopped to admire her breasts after I had cleaned them. After that, she grabbed some wipes and started removing paint from my body.

She was mostly clean, and I was more than half done when she finally spoke.

"Justin is my daughter's father," she said softly. She finished cleaning my chest and moved up to my face before she continued. "I guess I let him take my fantasies about a long-haired rocker dude a little too far. I should have known that fantasy always ends with a baby, and the fantasy evaporates when the baby grows up with health issues."

I was ready to propose to her again when I watched the intensity in her eyes as she scanned my face for any paint she might have missed. I managed to hold my tongue, but she may have seen something in my eyes, and she blushed.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and as she reached for her clothes, she said, "He still comes around, every year or three. Brenda always tries to warn me, but I always have a moment of weakness, and I end up in bed with him." She gave me a sad smile. "He hates that I won't kiss him, but that never stops him from enjoying the rest of me."

She laughed quietly and said, "I'm not usually a slut, but sometimes I let my fantasies run away with me. You understand."

I think I did understand, and I very much appreciated her attitude. I nearly offered her a less committing proposal. Her next words stopped me.

She took a deep breath as she tossed me my shirt. It was the only bit of clothing that we hadn't put back on. "But," she said as she exhaled, "we have kids to raise and bills to pay, and we have lives to live." Her smile had a bitter edge as she added, "Maybe someday we can get to know each other. You can probably guess that I have to devote a lot of time to my daughter, and that scares most men off." Her smile softened, and she finished with, "Thank you again for making her smile."

I expected a kiss when she leaned her face in close to mine. She caught my chin and held it straight as she placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. With that, she led me back through my house to the back door.

I was certain I was going to embarrass myself by standing outside and watching her as she walked home. She changed my mind again.

She was barely half-way across my yard when she looked back at me. She frowned for a moment, then turned and marched back to me. She grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me down into a very aggressive but very short kiss.

"Let me go!" she demanded as she pushed me back toward the house. I struggled to understand what I had done wrong, and why that kiss had felt so good, but I stumbled back into the house. I didn't even look out the window to see if she looked back.

====

Maybe I should have let the whole incident go, with only the memory of a fun fling to make me smile. Something my daughter said when she got home made me reconsider.

She said, "Daddy, did Kayla's mom come thank you? You should invite her in for coffee when she does. Miss Brenda says that Kayla's mom works too hard taking care of Kayla and she needs to spend more time with adults, and maybe a man. I don't think they knew I was listening, and Miss Brenda told Kayla's mom that she should try kissing men for a change and maybe she would find someone to make her happy. I heard her say she always wanted to kiss a clown. Daddy, I know she's not the same pretty that Mommy was, but I like her and if you want to kiss her, I could be Kayla's sister."

For a moment, I wondered just how manipulative my young daughter could be. I laughed off the notion that she had set me up, and I wrote Brianna a note.

Briana,

It was interesting to meet you at your daughter's party, and I wonder that we don't have more in common than we knew. I would be delighted to get to know you. If you are available for coffee sometime, I would be happy to discuss the joys of raising children.

Mike

My daughter was all smiles as she ran off to deliver it.

===

My daughter was all smiles when the kids came home from playing with the neighborhood kids the next day. She handed me a note and a small gift-wrapped box. The note was addressed to me, but in a different hand, it said, "Open first."

Mike,

Sometimes, I believe I am too impulsive. Please understand that I must always consider the needs of my daughter over almost everything else in my life. In spite of that, I slipped up the other night. My daughter saw me smile, and she wanted to know why. You know why I couldn't answer her. For once, she almost let it go. She suggested that it would make her happy to see me smile like that again. The brat then asked if the smile had anything to do with how I lost the paint on my cheeks when I went to thank you that night.

To answer your suggestion, yes, let's have coffee sometime soon. After that, we'll see, but here's what I want. I want to be wooed. I want dinner and a movie, walks in the park, volunteering together at the food bank. Remember that my daughter comes first in my life, and I am rarely as impulsive as you have seen me be.

With hope,

Brianna

The short note inside the wrapping of the small box was written in the same hand as the added words on the envelope of the first note.

Mike,

With trepidation, I would suggest to you that Bri is far more impulsive and far less strong than she ever lets on. Get to know her well, and don't you dare break her heart.

Brenda, Brianna's neighbor with benefits.

PS I expect the two of you to provide a rough draft within two weeks of "101 Adult Ways To Enjoy Balloons".

The box contained a bag of long clown balloons. I had to wonder just how much Brianna had shared with her neighbor, and if they were ever going to let me live down my inspired moment of silliness.