Beast Humping

First things first. I did not right or have anything to do with the following story. I recently found a large quantity of some very high quality and original writings. proper credit is hereby given to the actual author of this and more stories that will follow.

Beast Humping by Ron Bywood

Index

Chapter One "Spectator Sport"

Chapter Two "Dog Eat Dog"

Chapter Three "Passion In The Pasture"

Chapter Four "A Bird In The Bird" **

Chapter Five "Freaky Fuckers"

Chapter Six "Take That, You Swine"

Chapter Seven "The Lady Goes Ape"

** This chapter deleted from this copy.

Contained slaughter of birds and murder.

Introduction

"Bestiality--violation of animals--monstrous and revolting to mankind."

Krafft-Ebing used these words to introduce the subject of sex between

humans and animals in his monumental nineteenth century study of

perverse sexuality, Psychopathia Sexualis. The public attitude toward

many deviant sex practices has eased since those harsh Victorian times

but the very idea of bestiality seems as "monstrous and revolting" as

ever to most people today.

The Old Testament, source of most of our basic behavioral taboos, is

clear on the subject. In Leviticus 18:23, the Lord lays down the law to

Moses, Neither shalt thou lie with any beast to defile thyself

therewith; neither shall any woman stand before a beast to lie down

thereto; it is confusion.

The Bible not only forbade bestiality but also prescribed stern

penalties both for the human and the animal participants, each

apparently being presumed equally guilty in the affair. Thus Leviticus

tells us, If a man lie with a beast, he shall surely be put to death:

and he shall slay the beast.

In the Middle Ages in Europe surviving court records show that the

Biblical penalties were carried out to the letter. In France one man was

hanged and then burned for fornicating with a cow and a goat, and then

both animals were also burned. Two centuries later, a sixteen-year old

girl was found guilty of having had sexual relations with a dog, and

both dog and girl were hanged and burned.

Most states today have no law on their books specifically forbidding

bestiality, but it is usually considered to fall under the category of

sodomy offenses, which include everything from sucking a twat to

screwing a turkey--from buggering your wife's rectum to fucking a corpse

on a morgue slab--from jerking off in company with a friend to having

your cunt licked by a cocker spaniel. It's all sodomy in the eyes of the

law, although the sodomy statutes are seldom enforced these days except

against homosexuals.

Anyway, Biblical interdictions and harsh penalties in the law codes

never have prevented bestial practices. As with all other varieties of

sexual behavior, people have always done pretty much as they pleased in

the privacy of their own boudoirs and barns.

Although records of specific incidents of bestiality down through the

years are scarce, there is ample evidence that it has been widely

practiced in all centuries by all peoples. There are many reports by

travelers and explorers of prevalent bestiality among the depraved

citizens of other, less-enlightened lands. Sanctimonious observers from

the western world found it running rampant among the pagans of the far

east, Europeans observed it with horror among the Arabs and black

Africans, Arabs declared it to be common among the perfidious Turks.

But there was plenty of beastly buggering going on among our own

ancestors in Western Europe as well. The best evidence that bestiality

was a crime is that it is constantly mentioned both in church and civil

law, century after century, with ever more drastic punishments being

laid down for the culprits. It would hardly have been such a constant

concern of the law makers unless it had been a widespread habit.

In the Middle Ages, when penalties against it were the most severe, all

the evidence indicates that bestiality was an adjunct to witchcraft

revelries and a casual barnyard pastime that ran a neck-and-neck race

with incest as the favorite sport among the peasantry.

In the prim and proper nineteenth century, Krafft-Ebing regretfully

reported that violation of animals was "none too infrequent," and in the

modern day Doctor Kingsey's more extensive and enlightened research

discovered that forty to fifty percent of farm boys he interviewed had

had some kind of sex relations with animals at one time or another in

their young lives.

A good indication of the way bestial sex has obsessed man's fancy

through all the ages is the frequency with which it turns up in popular

literature and mythology. The ancient myths and fairy tales are full of

creatures half-human and half-beast such as centaurs, sphinxes and

mermaids, and human and animal love affairs wherein the beast usually is

a God or a prince temporarily transformed.

In our own time we continue to thrill over popular entertainment wherein

bestiality is suggested if not specifically portrayed. Jungle

adventures, in which young lovelies are carried off by giant apes,

presumably to satisfy their bestial lust, have always been popular with

matinee audiences.

As many writers including Freud have suggested, where bestiality has

persisted so in men's fantasies, there certainly must have been

widespread practice of the actual deed, for men's dreams are reflective

of their real-life desires.

In the free-and-easy climate of today, bestiality is not only as common

a pastime as ever, but many of those who practice it are quite willing

to spill their guts about it for publication without shame or fear.

There is a spirit of adventure in the practice of sex today--a reaching

out for new sensual experiences of every kind and unabashed readiness to

share the fruits of those experiments and spread the joyful word to the

hesitant, still-puritanical masses.

I had surprisingly little difficulty in finding a variety of people of

all ages and both sexes who quite willingly "told all" about their

bestial habits for this book. I have compiled from the resulting taped

conversations the case reports in the following pages. Only the names

and places have been disguised in some instances, in light of the sodomy

laws, but the broad picture these cases give of bestiality as it is

practiced in our twentieth century world is a true one.

Chapter 1 "Spectator Sport"

In the course of history, bestial practices have not only been a private

pastime but in various places and times have played a part in religious

rituals, witchcraft rites, and public spectacles for the titillation of

the masses.

It is hardly surprising that the ancient Romans who made a arena

spectacle out of everything from costume dramas to gladiatorial warfare

found sadistic delight in bestial sex exhibitions on the grand scale. An

amazing variety of animals were trained to perform sexually in the

arena, most often committing rape on helpless, spread-eagled young

maidens. Zebras, cheetahs, even giraffes reportedly were involved in

this kind of bizarre sport.

According to R.E.L. Masters, the diligent sex-researcher and writer, on

one infamous occasion in the Coliseum a hundred golden-haired young

girls were raped in unison by a hundred rampaging baboons, a girl-show

spectacular beyond anything ever dreamed of by Busby Berkeley.

On other occasions, to add an extra zest to the performance, wild apes

would not only rape the unfortunate girls but also devour their bodies

afterwards for an encore.

Since those pagan times, bestial sex-shows have never again reached such

heights of production lavishness or played to such arena-sized

audiences. In recent centuries and down to the present day, virtually

the only public performances of the kind have been whorehouse

exhibitions, usually involving a prostitute and either a large dog or a

small horse.

Krafft-Ebing noted such an exhibition a hundred years ago, an "example

of the moral depravity in large cities," in which "a Parisian female

showed herself in the sexual act with a trained bulldog to a secret

circle of rogues at ten francs a head."

Since the old-fashioned garden-variety whorehouse has become practically

extinct in this country, generally one must travel abroad to find such

performances today. A few countries of Latin America, Asia and the Arab

lands still offer these usually pitiful spectacles as underground

tourist attractions.

A New York executive who has spent much time in the Caribbean islands

where his firm does a great deal of business tells about an experience

of the kind in pre-Castro Cuba.

Case 1: Ben P.

Before the revolution down there, Cuba was really the place to go, I'm

telling you. It was murder trying to get any business done is the only

thing, with all the distractions--whorehouses on every street, blue

movies, and orgy exhibitions-you name it and you could find it. You

didn't have to do any shopping around either. All you had to do was walk

out on any street They'd spot you for an American right off and there'd

be a dozen pimps after you, trying to sell you every kind of sex

experience that man ever invented. You couldn't help but get the

impression that every broad in Havana was peddling her ass and every guy

was pimping for them.

The "exhibitions" were the big thing. First thing they'd mention to you.

"Superman" was the big star. He was a big black bugger with a cock like

a baseball bat, and he put on shows in one of the houses there. He'd

take on about four or five of the girls at once and they'd play the

scene for you any way you ordered it. If you wanted to, you could strip

down and join the show yourself. They'd do their thing in a private

performance just for you, or for a whole party of ten or twenty

tourists. How Superman kept that prick of his up all day is beyond me.

Must've had a steel rod planted in it. Or maybe there were three or four

different "Supermen" working in shifts for all I know.

Anyway, I'd been there a few times and seen and done just about

everything there was in that goddamn sex-town, and one hot day in

December I landed in Havana with some business to attend to, figuring

I'd finish it up in an hour or two and hop back to Miami that same

night. No hanky-panky this trip I promised myself. In fact I had a

redhead date all lined up for myself in Miami that would put all-these

fat-ass Cuban whores to shame. I figured she and I would have a little

private exhibition, all our own that night in front of the picture

mirror in her apartment.

But of course I had the usual pimp parade on me like leeches as soon as

I got downtown from the airport, giving me all the usual pitches, and

they didn't like to take no for an answer. They figured that men came to

Cuba from the U.S.A. to get laid, period. You tell them you're not

interested and they don't believe their ears. After all, once you'd seen

the Capitolio and the rum distillery and the ancient cathedral in

Havana, what the hell else is there left but the whorehouses?

It wound up finally with just this one determined cat dogging my tracks,

still trying to sell me some kind of cock therapy. He'd already run

through the whole catalogue of goodies for me about twelve times. "You

want the woman? Big tits woman? Young girl? Very young! Teen-age

schoolgirl for you. She do everything you like. Two young girls-all for

you. Two together. They come with you. Your hotel. Maybe young boy? You

like the young boy? You say what you like. I fix for you. See the

exhibition? Two girls? Three girls? Four? Five?"

Then he got into something that sounded like "done-kee--the done-kee." I

didn't get the meaning at first, but then I realised all of a sudden

that he was pitching for a girl making it with a goddamn donkey. This

was a brand new one on me. I'd heard there were such things that went on

but I'd never been steered onto it before. All of a sudden I was

interested. It was something people talk about but you don't get to see

every day in the week and I was really curious. That woman with a donkey

shit--you don't half believe it really happens, you know? I doubted that

there were two guys in the whole of Philadelphia that could say they'd

ever seen it, and here was my chance to be the first in my

neighbourhood.

At first I thought maybe it was just a movie show this guy was talking

about, but he said, "No--real alive done-kee--fuck pretty young girl for

you."

I cooled down a little when he told me it was going to cost me fifty

Cuban pesos, which translates into exactly fifty U.S. dollars. That was

the tab for a private performance-just for me, the girl and the

donkey--but if I didn't mind sharing the spiritual experience, I could

wait until night and there'd be a group showing for a crowd of tourists

at ten dollars a head admission. Well shit, I couldn't pass that up. So

I told him to put me down for a reservation, kissed off my date in Miami

and checked into a hotel to wait out the time.

My friendly guide came to pick me up in a cab at seven-thirty and we

drove down to the Chinatown section--the driver blasting his horn at

every intersection the way they do. We pulled up at a seedy-looking old

mansion on a dark street-it had a huge front door about ten feet tall

with an ornate grill-work all over it--real old Spanish style.

There was the usual fat madam that let us in and we went across a

shitty-smelling courtyard and into the front room of the place. There

was a lot of Spanish chatter going on--about how much loot they were

going to be able to squeeze out of me, no doubt. I'd already laid out

five to the cab driver and ten to the guide, but there was still the

beady-eyed Madame to take care of, and probably the girl and the donkey

besides. Then there'd usually be a few extra associate whores and

apprentice pimps coming around with their hands out before any action

finally got under way. There was a lot of featherbedding in these Havana

sex factories. Everybody wanted in on the loot, whether they'd

contributed to your orgasm or not. They must've had a hell of a strong

union going for them I guess.

I gave five to the Madame right away to get her off my back and turned a

deaf ear to the swarm of young chicks that swooped down on me next,

pressing their tits into me and grabbing at my pants the way they always

did. The smart thing to do in a whorehouse is to let them grab at your

cock all they want but keep your hand in your money pocket and protect

that at all times.

The Madame and my guide shooed the girls off me finally and we went

inside through about six layers of draperies and came to a big square

room with a round bed in the middle and the usual mirrors all over the

walls and ceiling. There were about ten or twelve guys sitting around

the bed, stateside tourist types. One of them even had brought his wife

along with him. She was too prim and plain-looking to be anything but a

wife.

The show had already started, but I hadn't missed anything. This was

only a preliminary act--warm-up for the main event. Two naked girls were

going at it on the red satin bedspread, one of them was fucking the

other man-style with a huge artificial prick fastened onto her lower

belly by straps. I'd seen this kind of shit before and it didn't do a

hell of a lot for me. The room temperature was about a hundred-and-nine

degrees--they didn't have air conditioning in the brothels in those days

and the tourists were all panting and sweating beads with the heat and

the excitement. I pulled up a chair in the second row, away from all

those steaming bodies. I figured I'd save my sweat for the donkey act.

Meanwhile the artificial cock was pounding in and out and the fat little

broad that was getting it was thrashing all over the bedspread,

pretending to have fantastic orgasms. I got more fun though out of

watching the tourist's wife, who was sweating worse than any of the men

and looked very uncomfortable. She kept one hand up to her face at all

times as if she was afraid somebody from back home was going to walk in

all of a sudden and recognize her.

The girls quit their dildo fuck abruptly and broke off connections to

move into a new position, but just then the Madame popped in clapping

her hands and sang out, "End of act one," or Spanish words to that

effect. Four or five more girls had come in with her, some naked and

some in G-strings, and they all climbed up onto the bed and struck

leering poses, jiggling their boobs and grinding their hips for our

benefit, and the two broads that had been performing got up and joined

them.

Now it was up to us to decide which one of the girls we wanted to see

getting her well-plugged by the donkey. I voted for a slim little giggly

chick with pointy, springy tits and a cute ass, figuring she'd give us a

good lively show, but most of the tourists voted for a phony blonde with

a big-eyed baby-face and a pair of boobs like Sophia Loren. It figured.

Then the other chicks all disappeared, we pulled our chairs back, and a

couple of black Samsons came in and carried the bed away. At that point

I was wondering how in the hell they were going to set the thing up.

Getting a donkey's cock into a girl has to be some kind of a contortion,

I figured, for the donkey and the girl both. There had to be some kind

of apparatus.

Sure enough, they wheeled in a wooden platform and I began to see how

they would manage it. The girl apparently would lie on top of the thing

on her belly with her legs hanging down in back, spread wide, with her

feet in stirrups and her pussy trough wide-open from the ass end. And

there were raised-up shelves on both sides of the contraption where the

donkey could rest his front legs when he reared up into position.

But the girl--I think they said her name was Felicia--didn't climb onto

her perch right away. She was circulating around among the crowd making

friends, thanking all the boys individually for picking her to fuck the

donkey, and showing her gratitude with big slurpy tongue-licking kisses

and by letting everybody play bouncy squeezy with her fantastic boobs.

When she came by me I passed up the titty feels and ran a handful of

fingers up between her legs into her big slimy snatch, which is where I

live, baby. I could tell she had a donkey-size cunt all right. Wow! She

opened her legs for me and let me get my whole hand up inside her and

then she clamped her thighs shut and did a fast wiggle, twisting her

snatch around my fist, and at the same time she leaned forward and

pressed her big flabby boobs into my face. Whoosh!

She had a real gamy, unwashed stink about her, but it was the raw, basic

smell of a woman and that turns me on more than any phony perfume of

dainty deodorant. That's one thing I always liked about those

old-fashioned Latin whores-they stank like a woman is supposed to stink.

That's something we've lost in this super-antiseptic age, the sensual

value of human body-smells.

Anyway, speaking of smells, they brought in the donkey just then and he

sure stank like he was supposed to all right. He was a little squatty,

stump-legged bugger. Must've been half burro. His cock was still limp,

but Felicia soon took care of that. She started off stroking his neck

and patting his nose and then she pressed one of her big boobies to his

mouth and rubbed it around and damned if that donkey didn't start in

licking around the nipple with his big old tongue. She must've had honey

smeared on it or something. Anyway that gave us all a good laugh.

After a little of that she ducked down underneath his belly and started

teasing his prick with her fingers. The donkey shuffled his hooves

around and blew out a nose full of snot. She was beginning to get to

him. Then Felicia lifted her head up with her tongue snaking out, and

damn if she didn't start in licking the shit out of that old donkey

dick. It was the goddamnest thing you ever saw. I heard a big gasp from

the tourist broad. She probably didn't believe women did this nasty

thing to men's pricks, let alone to donkeys. It sure was a sight all

right, seeing that black dong swelling and stretching out like somebody

blowing up a balloon. It must've wound up at least a foot long at its

full extension and she was slobbering over it like crazy, licking it all

up and down its length and letting the ugly old thing slide way down her

throat and then easing it out again.

Finally she had that bugger so hot and horny he was tossing his head and

tail around and stamping his front feet and quivering his withers--he

looked like he was going to explode any second. She jumped up then and

the two attendants ran out and grabbed the donkey or else he would've

climbed right up on her then and there before she could get in position.

He was kicking around and snorting to beat hell. Felicia climbed onto

the platform and got set and then she yelled she was ready, and the guys

led the donkey in behind her and let him rear up. Then they ducked out

of the way in a hurry. From there on that fucking donkey didn't need any

help from anyone--he knew what to do. He lunged right in against the

girl's ass, his big belly up over her back and his long prong bobbing

behind her. It looked like he was going to crush the shit out of her,

but with his front legs set in the tracks on each side of her I guess

his weight didn't come down on top of her the way it looked. But his

prick was whanging the hell out of her rear end,bumping and butting at

it before it found the hole. He finally got down under the crack of her

ass and settled into the slot, right on target. But there still was a

lot more stomping around with his hind legs and tail twitching before he

actually worked it into her pearly gates and started driving it home.

Felicia was yipping and yelling the whole time, telling him, "Fuck me,

Pepe," in Spanish and English all mixed together.

Just to see it happening you'd have sworn that fucking donkey was

ripping the living shit out of the poor helpless girl, but no such

thing. She was even laughing, along with all the yelling and whooping. I

don't know how many times she'd done this act before, but she must've

been damn well broken in. The donkey kept on humping and humping at her

for quite a while. I was surprised--I didn't think they went on that

long. I'd heard that horses just made a couple of quick plunges and shot

their wads and I assumed donkeys would be the same. But they must've had

this bugger trained to hold his fire and make a better show of it for

the crowd.

It was wild and exciting to watch--I'll say that--but a little sickening

too in a way. Seeing that fucking ramrod disappearing at least a foot up

inside a girl's guts had to make you wince a little.

When the donkey came finally, he must've shot a half-a-gallon of juice

up her alley--it came oozing back out all around her ass and dripped

down the backs of her legs. She let out a big yahoo and right away the

two big boys came out and pulled the donkey back off her and led him

away with his prick still a half-a-yard long and a big streamer of goo

dangling off the end of it.

Felicia hopped down off her perch, as spry as ever as far as I could

see. She didn't look any the worse for her ordeal, although her body was

dripping wet with sweat and her pussy and ass were all lathered white

with the donkey's cream.

"You like?" she said with a big happy smile and we all gave her a round

of applause. I was thinking, "wonder what the hell she could do for an

encore." But that was the end of the formal entertainment. Felicia went

around the circle collecting tips from the tourists and it looked to me

as if she made quite a haul for herself. But she'd earned every nickel

of it as far as I was concerned. I only hoped the goddamn Madame would

let her keep a few bucks of it for herself, but probably not. Those

Cuban whores lived a real slave existence in those days, from all I

heard.

Then all the other girls came back in the room bare-ass naked and tried

to interest the guys in a little private hanky-panky to round off the

evening. I latched onto the little giggly chick that had caught my eye

in the first place, and twenty more bucks to the Madame fixed it up so I

could take her back to the hotel with me for an all-night ball.

Unfortunately she didn't speak a hell of a lot of English. Most of the

Cuban whores were recruited off the farms--a lot of them shipped in from

Mexico--so they hadn't had much chance to learn English. I wanted to ask

the kid about what-it was like screwing the donkey--how the girls got

broken in for it and all that. With a lot of sign language and pantomime

I found out that she didn't enjoy donkey-fucking a hell of a lot, this

girl. She had only done it a couple of times so far. Felicia seemed to

get the call more than any of the other girls, and Felicia loved doing

it with the donkey. But this chick of mine--I forget what she said her

name was--said that the girls practiced for it with a huge, donkey-sized

wooden dildo. The brothel operators would diddle a new girl with that

monster until she could take it up her cunt a foot-and-a-half without

shitting a brick, and then they'd figure she was ready to tackle the

donkey.

This girl had a hell of an elastic twat, I must say, because I didn't

have anything like what that donkey had, cock-wise, but she still gave

me a good tight screw all the same. But then, she was still just a young

kid at that time. Give her another year or two in Havana brothels,

fucking donkeys and every other damn thing that came along, and that

poor little cunt of hers would look like the Grand Canyon--like

Felicia's.

I never got a chance to check up on the matter though. Castro moved in

and took over the whole works before I ever got back to Havana again and

I hear he put all of the brothels out of business right off first thing.

It must've been quite a blow to those poor girls, having to go out and

go to work. But the one I really feel sorry for is that donkey. No more

screwing pretty pink pussies for him. He must've wondered what he did

wrong. The lousy communists probably got him pulling a junk wagon or

some such thing. Poor little donkey. That revolution really fucked up

his sex-life.

Chapter 1 "Dog Eat Dog"

Through the years, if historians ancient and modern are to be believed,

there is hardly a creature--bird, beast or fish--that has not been used

for man's sexual gratification.

We have already referred to the Roman arena spectacles, wherein

giraffes, leopards, mandrills, bulls and boars were involved in the

action. It is also recorded that Roman ladies of that time enjoyed

running snakes up their vaginas in the warm weather for a cool,

refreshing fuck.

In ancient Egypt both men and women regularly consorted with goats. In

the temples, goats were advertised as incarnations of Gods, and were

specially trained to provide sex-services to worshippers of either sex.

Monkeys were also put to sexual use, dog-faced baboons being especially

popular. And most intriguing of all, there are reports that some

resourceful and highly adventurous Egyptians of the time even managed

intercourse with crocodiles.

Chickens and other barnyard fowl have always been popular and are still

often used today. Men also have been known to enjoy intercourse with

dolphins and sea-cows, and women have found sensual delight in inserting

squirming fish up into their jaded quims.

Sheep and calves have most commonly served men down through the years

and continue to be most popular with farm boys today, although horses,

pigs and chickens still figure prominently in barnyard action. But the

most popular bestial partner of all in the modern world undoubtedly is

the dog, and especially among city-dwellers to whom he is the only

practical animal readily available. Dogs seem to adapt themselves

agreeably to sex relations with humans, serving with either tongue or

penis, eagerly cooperative in fucking a human cunt or asshole when

offered or slobbering over a honey-smeared prick or pussy.

Women are more likely to favor a dog over all other animals to serve

their sex purposes and many an unattached lady keeps a canine lover

these days--the perfect partner--always ready-always willing and always

absolutely discreet. A dog will never kiss and tell.

But sometimes the ladies will, as in the following case report.

Case 2: Laura M.

I was married for four years, and for three years and eleven months of

that time I was the most miserable mismated wife in the history of

matrimony. I'd had my share of affairs before marriage I have to admit,

and I'd always thought of myself as a normal heterosexual female that

responded with all the proper gasps and twitches when a man made the

usual penetrations, but somehow when I settled down into marriage and it

became a night-after-night thing, I became a nervous wreck and got so I

hated sex completely. I didn't even want that man to touch me any more

for some crazy reason. It was all I could do by superhuman willpower to

put up with a wham-bam quick one from him. He didn't know what the hell

was wrong with me and I couldn't tell him either, so we just fought and

yelled at each other and things went from bad to worse until we wound up

hardly even speaking to each other.

If it hadn't been for this girl friend of mine, Vivian, I don't know

what I would have done. She lived in the same building and was a

decorator. She'd helped me to fix up the apartment when I first moved in

and then she went on being helpful in all kinds of ways after that. She

spent a lot of time with me during the daytime, and I told her my sad

stories and let her know all about my sex hang-ups and everything that

was bugging me about my old man and men in general.

She never had been married herself but she talked as if she knew the

rules of the game pretty well. Anyway, she was a lot of comfort to me

when my husband finally pulled out for good. I won't say that Vivian and

I fell into a lesbian relationship exactly. We didn't go down on each

other or anything like that. But we did get pretty huggy and kissy

sometimes and I found I was enjoying her holding me and caressing me the

way I couldn't stand my husband doing it to me those last couple of

years.

But I was getting more and more confused. What the hell was I, anyway?

Finally I up and put it to Vivian in plain down-to-earth terms.

"Am I a lesbian or what? I don't really know what I want any more. I

thought it would be a big relief with my husband gone but now I find

that I miss him somehow-miss what he could do for me, if you know what I

mean. Even though I could hardly stand it when he did, that last year or

so. He bugged me so--always expecting his pleasure right on schedule,

night after night. Insisting on his 'marital rights.' What I need is a

nice docile man who's available and ready to go when I want him but

never bugs me otherwise--just up and disappears when I don't want him

around any more. Maybe I should hire a gigolo just for one hour or so a

week to come in and cool down my passions. Do they have such things?"

Vivian laughed and said, "Let me get this straight. What you would like

is a man with a good stiff member who's always up and ready when you say

'go' and then crawls off and lies down in a corner afterwards and stays

there with his mouth shut until you whistle for him again."

I laughed too. "You hit it right on the head. But I'm afraid there just

ain't no such animal."

"Ha!" she yelled. "You just said the magic word. Animal. The answer to

all your problems, honey child."

"Animal!" I assumed she was kidding. "What do you suggest--a nice

friendly chimpanzee?"

"Hell no." she said. "A chimp is a mean son of a bitch. Worse than a man

even. They'll bite the hell out of you, those bastards. A dog is the

only animal for a woman. They can do every goddamn thing a man can do

for you except soul-kiss, and I can take care of that department for

you!"

She was good at kissing. That's what had me worried about myself. I

enjoyed her expert kisses more than I ever did my husband's or any

man's. But what I was missing was the hard root up in the soft shaft. A

good stiff prick, to put it bluntly.

But a dog? I still thought she was kidding. "You're screwed-up and

frustrated, right?" Vivian said. "Can't live with a man and can't live

without one. A lot of us have that problem. But look at me. Do I seem

frustrated? Not for a minute, baby. But did you ever see me dating a

man? Forget it--who needs it?"

"Well, maybe you can keep cool just with women," I said. I figured she

was giving me a lesbian confession here. "I can't just cut myself off

from men though. I'm not programmed that way, I'm afraid."

"Oh, men are fine. I don't knock 'em. Great to talk to--have dinner

with--see a show. But you don't have to let 'em take any liberties.

That's when they get possessive and bossy. Keep 'em at arm's length and

you get them at your mercy. But when you feel that old crotch-fever

coming on you and need something up inside there to scratch it where it

itches,--that's where faithful old ever-ready Bozo steps up and fills

the bill for mama."

All of a sudden with a shuddering jolt I realized that this whole thing

was serious. I'd seen her walking Bozo a couple of times--Bozo was a

gigantic hound she kept in her apartment. Great Dane, or some such

thing. I'd never been able to figure before why she wanted to keep such

a huge dog in a small city apartment. But now it all came clear.

Apparently she had Bozo trained to "scratch her where it itches."

I didn't know what the hell to say. I guess I just gaped at

her--thunderstruck. I couldn't believe it.

"Don't look so fucking horrified," she said. "And don't knock something

till you've tried it. Come with me, baby. I'm taking over your education

right now." She grabbed hold of my arm. "We're going up to my place and

I'm going to give you a free home demonstration of the kind of pussy

therapy you need. No obligation to buy. But I guarantee it'd put that

half-ass husband of yours right out of your mind and give you a whole

new outlook on life, sex-wise. You'll be ready and willing to kiss men

goodbye and good riddance."

I must have been in some kind of a daze. I don't even remember riding up

in the elevator. The next thing I knew, we were in her apartment and big

old Bozo was leaping up all over her with his tongue out, sniffing and

yipping. He must have been able to smell her intentions. Personally I

was scared to death of the goddamn beast. I didn't even like little

dogs. It looked like she had him pretty well disciplined though. She

yelled at him to quit his messing around and get in the bedroom and he

did just what he was told.

I guess I looked as if I was about to faint dead away, so Vivian fixed

me a drink, which I really needed at that point, and then she said,

"Now, you goddamn prissy-ass Victorian, relax here and breathe deeply

until your head clears. I'm going in the bedroom and set the scene for

you. When I yell; you come on in and you'll see my free home

demonstration of doggy-diddling--the sport of queens."

She left and I could hear sweet-talking and sniffing and rustling around

in the bedroom. By now the shock had subsided and I was just burning up

with curiosity over the whole thing. It was so fantastic, I couldn't

wait to see what she'd be doing with that wild goddamn dog. I still

didn't really believe that she'd actually let him--well, my God!

Then she sang out, "Finish your drink, count three, and come on in,

baby. Bozo rides again!

The dog was making a hell of a racket. I could hear him slurping and

snuffling as if he was lapping up his dinner-dish. And then I came

through the doorway and my eyes popped out. It was even crazier than I'd

expected. Vivian had stripped right down to practically nothing. All she

had on was her bra and garter-belt. She was sprawled on her back on the

bed with about three fat pillows underneath her rear-end, so that her

spread crotch was well up in the air where Bozo could get at it. And was

he ever at it! He was standing up between her legs, lapping away at her

slit with his long tongue, slobbering and drooling all over it. Actually

eating her pussy! Can you imagine?

"Oh no!" I said. "You gotta be kidding." "Pull up a chair, oh thou of

little faith," Vivian said. "This is just the beginning. You ain't seen

nothing yet."

I couldn't even talk--I was speechless. I sat down beside the bed and

couldn't take my eyes off the freaky scene. That wild doggy tongue was

going like mad--all up and down her slit and in and out the hollows of

her crotch-really lathering her up good.

"Doesn't that--tickle?" I said like an idiot. I mean, I didn't know what

the hell to say.

She laughed. "You're goddamn right it tickles.

"That's the whole idea, isn't it?"

"How--how did you get him to--er--do that?" I said "Did you smear

something on you or what?"

"In the beginning I did, to give him the idea of what was wanted. But he

caught on fast. He doesn't need any inducements any more, just lie down

like this and spread it and he takes it from there. Ain't it a gas? He

gets his reward afterwards--you'll see."

"Oh, I don't believe it," I said. Bozo was really zeroing in now. It was

incredible. Right dead center on her clitoris--working it over with his

tongue just like a human person. I was beginning to get hot myself, just

from watching. Vivian wasn't talking any more. That crazy tongue was

starting to get to her. Her mouth was hanging open and her breath was

beginning to come hard.

All I could say was, "Wow--wow," over and over. Now the damn tongue was

poking up inside actually. Pushing into her like a prick. Her legs were

twitching and her ass quivering. And the dog must've been getting

excited too, cause he was beginning to drip saliva and he was panting as

hard as she was.

Then all of a sudden she let out a whoop and waved her arms in the air.

I guess this was the signal for Bozo to cool it with the cunnilingus and

really put it to her. And he got the message all right. He raised up his

head and barked a couple of times and then he climbed up over her body

and gave her face a couple of licks and she kissed him back. Those two

were real lovers, I'll tell you. Now I noticed his prick was up by her

pussy, in position to do a job, and just starting to swell up in

anticipation of what Bozo knew was coming. Vivian lifted up her legs on

both sides of him and stroked his flanks with the insides of her thighs.

This was a huge dog, don't forget. The same general proportions as a

man. I mean, he really covered her.

She arched her hips upward, aiming her crotch right at his pecker to

give him a straight-on target to shoot at. It didn't look like he'd have

any trouble ramming it in her from there. Her slit was pretty

well-lubricated already too--slick and glistening wet from the dog's

slobbering over it, plus her own juice oozing out from inside.

"Come on, Bozo--come on," she was whispering to him. "Fuck mama, Bozo.

Fuck me, boy."

He nudged forward and poked his pecker up between her legs and she

wiggled a little and pressed up to meet the point of it and put it to

the hole. And then with hardly any trouble at all he slipped into the

opening of her spread cunt and drove all the way home.

"Go, boy--go!" she hollered out, and he stared humping away like crazy.

I had to pinch myself, I swear. There I sat, actually watching a decent

respectable woman in twentieth century America--my best friend in the

world practically-letting herself be screwed by a Great Dane dog! I

thought such things only happened in stag movies or in opium dens in

Algeria or some such place.

He was really pounding it into her--wham wham--with his big brown balls

whacking up against her ass with every thrust--and Vivian was meeting

every push of his with a bump of her own. She was completely out of this

world by that time. I don't think she even knew I existed any more. Her

head was lolling back and forth, her eyes rolling in her head, her jaw

hanging wide open. The dog was drooling spit down onto her face and neck

but she wasn't paying any attention to that. She was practically

frothing at the mouth herself.

She grabbed onto Bozo's front paws and lifted them up onto her chest,

planting them on top of her boobs, and then she held them there,

pressing his hard claws down against her nipples.

I guess she threw an orgasm before he did, the way she was thrashing

around and whimpering. I never saw such passion before in my life. But

then, I'd never watched another woman get screwed before, by man or

animal.

She kept on making these little moaning noises in her throat and the dog

started sort of squealing himself, as I guess his own orgasm was coming

to a head.

But then it was all over all of a sudden. The dog quit his humping and

his head sagged down over her face, and she brought her hands up and

held onto his body, keeping him in position where he was with his prick

still jammed up inside her. She was puffing like she'd run a twenty-six

mile marathon and she had to get her breath back before she could speak

to me again.

"We have to--we have to wait," she said, until--the swelling on his

prick goes down before we pull apart."

I didn't exactly get the meaning of that at the time, but she explained

afterwards that a dog gets a big puffed-up ball in the middle of his

cock when he inserts it into something feminine and starts fucking, and

that anchors him inside the cunt, rectum or whatever as if he was

riveted there. It only subsides after he shoots his load and goes soft

again. If he tried to pull out while the ball was still engorged it

would rip the hell out of her cunt and she'd be in big trouble trying to

explain her lacerated twat to her family doctor.

That's how dogs manage to get stuck together sometimes when they fuck.

The female's cunt clamps down so tight on the base of the male's prick

that the blood can't drain off after the orgasm--the prick stays swollen

and the two dogs are clamped together and in big trouble.

I thought it was a funny notion at the time. Little did I know I'd be

laughing out the other side of my face later. But Bozo cooled down

pretty quick that time and then he backed off from her and she sat up

and gave me a big smile. She looked pretty hot and disheveled but very

happy apparently.

"Well, how about it? Ever see anything like that before at the afternoon

bridge club?"

"God no," I said. "I almost don't believe it though. Is it really all

that good?"

"Listen-there's only one way to find out for yourself. Get those clothes

off, Miss Freeze-ass. It's your turn next."

"Oh, I couldn't do that," I said. "You're used to it and-and he's used

to you. He probably wouldn't do it with me--would he?"

"Are you kidding? He's like any other man. Show him a cunt and he'll

fuck it."

"But it--it looks so rough. Doesn't he hurt you?"

"It hurts real good, baby. Hurts in all the right places. You won't

believe it till you try it, and afterwards you won't want it any other

way. Bozo is 'the spoiler.' The only thing I'm worried about is that

after one wild orgasm on the end of that bulbous cock of his you'll want

to steal him away from me."

"God, Vivian," I said. "This isn't something I can just jump right into

blindly. You've got to realize--you've really bowled me over with the

whole thing. I mean--it's not exactly an everyday event. Oh Christ, Viv

let me sleep on the idea tonight, Maybe tomorrow. God knows, I need

something new in my sex-life, but I'm not so sure this is it."

"Hogwash!" she said. "I know you. If you take time to think about it

your prudish nature will scare you out of it. You've got to do it right

now, while the juices are flowing. You know damn well you're itching to

try it." She was up and at me then, pulling on my dress. "Come on,

Laura. Get out of those clothes. You'll thank me forever for this,

believe me."

"Okay okay," I said. "But just the cunnilingus part-okay? Let me see how

I like his tongue before I make any further commitments."

"Fair enough," she said. "So get stripped and I'll go get you another

drink to loosen your inhibitions. Come on with me, Bozo. Let the lady

undress in private."

I laughed. "Thanks. Whatever else happens, at least I can always tell my

grandchildren I was once eaten alive by a Great Dane dog."

I peeled down, taking off every stitch. After seeing what a slobby

sucker Bozo was I figured I was better off naked. I didn't want him

drooling all over my underwear. So I was stark bare-ass by the time

Vivian returned with the drink. Bozo scared hell out of me by making a

bee-line for me as soon as he got back in the room.

I backed off yelling, "Hold him. Hold him!" I guess I thought he was

going to throw me down and rape me on the spot. But he only wanted to

sniff around my pussy a little, now that the wraps were off the

merchandise.

"I'll hang onto him," Vivian said. "You get yourself ready. Pile up the

pillows like I had them and make yourself comfortable."

I lay down the same way she'd been, giggling self-consciously. I felt

shameless. I was all sprawled out naked in the bright daylight.

"Open wider, please," Vivian said, pushing my thighs further apart.

"Give him a good wide opening so he's not cramped for work-space."

I giggled again and must have been blushing like a school-girl. I told

her, "I feel like a picture in a dirty book."

She said, "Take my word for it--you look like an art masterpiece in a

museum. Are you ready? Say when."

I took a deep breath and said, "I guess so." Pow! The next thing I knew

that great hairy monster was up there looming over me, sniffing me up

and down, blowing his hot breath all over my goose-fleshed body. I could

have sworn he was about to chomp a great big bite out of me. I was

paralyzed. I didn't dare move a muscle.

"Relax--relax," Vivian said. "He won't hurt you. Close your eyes and

think beautiful thoughts. He'll do all the work--don't worry."

I closed my eyes and tried to close off my mind too, to everything

except pussy sensations. But it didn't work. I could feel that hot,

humid breath hitting me here, there and everywhere and every now and

then a drop of warm dog-spit would splash down onto me. I was wishing

Bozo would get down below there where he belonged and start his

cunt-licking. But all of a sudden I felt his hot vapors hit me right

square in the face and I winced and turned my head away, and then--UGGH!

He began licking right on my mouth, and when I opened up to make a

protest noise his slobby, dripping tongue went right inside. I twisted

my head violently and tried to sit up, but his hard paw came right down

between my breasts and pushed me back.

Vivian finally noticed that I was in trouble and she called him off me,

and I was ready to quit the whole business right then and there. I took

another drink to rinse out my mouth and get rid of the doggy taste.

I told Vivian, "Tell your friend, the kissing I can do without. Okay?"

She laughed. "Okay already. He just wanted to let you know he likes you.

He's ready to get down to fundamentals now."

So we started again and this time, thank God, he went right for the

crotch. I closed my eyes again and all of a sudden I wasn't nervous any

more. It started right away to tickle like a very, very groovy

masturbation. He was hitting the ticklish places all right with a

fantastic magic touch. I'd had my slit licked and diddled and fondled

and fucked many a time before by fingers and feathers and pricks and

tongues, but nothing ever reached me as quickly as Bozo did with that

crazy educated tongue of his.

Vivian was talking to me asking me questions, I think. But she should

have known better. I was already long gone-up on a cloud-out of sight. I

could see what she'd meant now. Who needed a man with Bozo on the scene?

Forget it's a dog doing it to you, I told myself. Just spread your wings

and fly!

I began twisting around and rocking my hips. I couldn't hold still any

more. I could hardly catch my breath. My butt came tumbling down off the

pillows, but that didn't stop Bozo. He stayed right in there and I held

my legs just as wide apart as they'd go to give him an open field. The

crazy trembles were shooting up everywhere through my insides now and

I'd just about lost all control. I don't know if I was whimpering or

laughing or screaming or what. I was completely gone. That wild crazy

dog had turned my whole freaked-out body into one great big explosive

cunt, all five-feet-nine of me. That's what a woman hopes for in bed but

seldom ever finds. She wants to be turned into a complete cunt.

Everything else gone until there's nothing left but wall-to-wall orgasm.

And now I wanted to be fucked! Man or dog--what did I care? I needed a

prick right then--a rampaging fuck to split me up the center

groove--stuff me from gut to gullet.

I don't remember a thing of what happened from then on. All I can recall

are the feelings inside me-sugar-coated skyrockets. But Vivian told me

afterwards that I was thrashing all over the bed so much that I tore the

sheet right up the middle and I was grabbing at Bozo and clawing him

with my fingernails, yelling, "Fuck me please! Please. Fuck me. Fuck

me!"

And fuck me he sure did. With a little help from Vivian I wound up back

on my pillow-perch, and Bozo's ever-ready and rigid prick went

ramrodding up my snatch and started pounding away. From there on it was

Vivian's scene all over again, only this time I was flying and she was

the ground crew.

All I know of the details are what she told me afterwards, and the

physical evidence that I saw with my own eyes after it was all over and

I'd come back down to earth.

I went in the bathroom with Vivian to take a shower and clean up. I

noticed the following things about myself. I looked as if I'd just come

through fire, flood and a street-riot. My entire body was drenched with

sweat and various other slimy juices I didn't dare try to identify. My

breasts and ribs and belly were all crisscrossed with little

scratch-marks that could only have come from Bozo's hard claws. Last but

not least, my sopping wet pussy, clogged full of doggy-goo, felt as if

it had been reamed out with a hot poker. But I wasn't regretting what

had happened--not for a second.

"How about it?" Vivian said. "Did I exaggerate or not?"

"Oh wow!" I said. "The only trouble is, I don't know if I could survive

another round of it.

How often do you go like that with Bozo? I should think you'd be worn

down to a shadow by now."

She laughed. "I don't overdo it. Anyway, when you get used to him it's

much less of a strain. The trick is to be completely relaxed and don't

fight him. Just let it happen to you. You rolled around too much. That's

why you're all scratched up and exhausted."

She helped me to wash off and touched up my bruises and then she made me

an offer. "Any time you want to shoot the moon again, just say the word.

Bozo is always ready and willing. That horny bastard is insatiable. He'd

take us both on again right now if we'd let him."

I laughed. "No thanks, just the same. Give me a week to recover and

maybe then again."

Well, I guess I was hooked, because I found I couldn't wait a week. It

was only a couple or three days later when I started getting very

restless and feeling all warm and dreamy the way a woman does when she

needs attention. So I called Viv and asked her, "How's Bozo?"

She laughed. "He's been asking for you," she said. "I think he's in

love."

We got together again that afternoon and it was just as fantastic as the

first time. Better, even--because I had no fear or hesitation to start

with.

And from then on it was ball, ball, ball, every other day or so. I was

screwing that crazy dog more than Vivian was. Man, was I hooked!

In love, I guess--that's the only way to explain it. And Vivian didn't

mind, She was still getting all she wanted.

This action went on for about a month or so and then Viv told me one day

she was going out of town for a week and asked if I'd mind taking care

of Bozo while she was gone. Would I? Wow!

Did I ever have dreams of fantastic day and night orgies. Just me and my

doggy dream-lover. Alone together! Now I'd be able to do some of the

way-out crazy things with him that I 'd never had the nerve to do in

front of Vivian. I wanted to kiss him all over his hairy hide-suck his

prick--everything! Give Bozo the same crazy pleasures he'd given me. I

couldn't wait for Vivian to get the hell out of town so I could get the

orgy under way. As soon as she was gone I went at it. I closed up all

the blinds and drew the drapes. Bozo and I were going to have complete

privacy. I didn't even want pigeons spying on us.

Then I stripped naked and Bozo and I started a romp on the living room

floor. We rolled around together all over the carpet, wrestling and

biting at each other. Bozo loved that kind of thing. Then I pinned him

down flat on his back and started kissing and licking him all over his

belly and underparts. This was something new for him, and he lay still

just whimpering a little. I could tell he enjoyed it. I teased him a

while, circling all around his prick before I came down on it. Then I

took his balls into my mouth and rolled them around on my tongue and

nibbled them gently. I knew men always liked that and I figured a dog

would too. Finally I took his prick in and licked it all over--drew the

head out and sucked on it as hard as I could. He seemed to enjoy it all

right. But he was getting pretty restless, and I guessed he was in the

mood to fuck.

But I wanted to play games some more, so I hopped up all of a sudden and

ran into the kitchen to get him to chase me. I figured I'd make him work

for his piece of ass today. He came charging after me, but I ducked

around the table and ran back out and into the bedroom. He didn't come

in after me right away, which puzzled me. And then when he did come into

the doorway, he didn't seem to be in such a playful mood after all. In

fact it almost sounded as if he was growling at me way down deep in his

throat.

So I figured I'd teased him long enough, and I started moving forward

towards him slowly, walking bow-legged in a sort of crouch, with my

crotch spread and my pussy thrust forward.

"Come and get it," I was saying, very sexy. "Get your hot pussy."

All of a sudden he took me by surprise. He crouched down like a lion and

then leaped onto me and knocked me sprawling on my back. I tried to push

him off me so we could get up onto the bed and be comfortable, but he

wasn't waiting any longer and he wouldn't let me up. He planted his big

forepaws right square on my boobs and squashed them flat and then

started up a thunderous barking, square in my face. This was something

new. Id never heard him do that before. I got the idea though that old

Bozo meant business. It was fucking time and no fooling. And Just to be

sure that I got the message, he leant in and snapped his jaws about an

inch from my nose. No more bull-shit, lady.

Then he backed off and I smiled to show him no hard feelings and spread

my legs and lifted my hips to let him see I was ready and willing. He

sniffed at my cunt a couple of times and bumped his nose against it, and

then after a couple more barks it my direction he climbed up into

position and brought his prick up to the slot. I raised up a little more

and braced myself and he shoved it in me as easy as always and started

fucking away. Even faster and harder than usual. I guessed that my

sucking on him had really got him stirred up and impatient.

I tried extra hard to make it a good fuck for him this time. As soon as

his prick swelled up to full-size in me and filled my cunt, locking us

together, I took hold of his ribs and held and rocked and wiggled and

humped up and down along with him. I tried to pinch his prick as tight

as I could too, hoping I'd give him the greatest orgasm a dog ever had.

But then my own insides start to freak out as usual and I got lost in

the ecstasies of my own exploding orgasms until we had blown ourselves

out completely. I lay there afterwards, still holding onto his hot

flanks, panting from my extra exertions, waiting for his puffed-up prick

to cool down and wilt so we could disengage. But this time of all

times--with just the two of us alone--that horrible dreaded thing had to

happen to us. We were locked together! The big hard knob on his cock was

blown up inside me and it wouldn't go down. Somehow, with all my extra

contortions and cunt-squeezing, I'd managed to close the mouth of my

snatch so tight around the root of his prick that the blood couldn't

drain off and, for all I knew, he was going to stay hard up inside me

forever. I had no idea what we could do, and I was in an instant state

of panic. If only I'd had sense enough to ask Vivian what to do in such

a case. But she had only mentioned it as a crazy possibility and we'd

laughed at it as a joke.

Bozo wasn't too delighted about things either. He tried to pull back and

get free and it hurt like hell when he did. It felt like a barbed

fishhook up inside me, tearing at my guts. I guess it was painful to

Bozo too though. He whined a couple of times and then turned mean and

started barking in my face again. As if it was my fault. I figured the

only thing we could do was wait it out and try to stay relaxed, hoping

the muscles or whatever would loosen or something and undo us

eventually. But what a drag!

I held onto Bozo and pulled him down beside me and we just lay there

together for what seemed like an hour at least. But it was no deal. His

prick looked as if it was going to stay hard forever unless we did

something about it. But what?

I guess it was the first time it had ever happened to Bozo too, and he

was pretty confused about it all. Every now and then he'd start

thrashing around in a new try at breaking loose, and every time he did

it, my cunt was getting rawer and rawer inside from all that chafing.

And then as if that wasn't bad enough, after awhile he start getting

horny again and wanting to fuck some more, of all things. All of a

sudden he began a whole new humping sequence and I thought I was getting

my cunt reamed out with a barbed wire dildo. Wow! And that miserable

beast just kept on fucking me and fucking me--I thought he'd never quit.

I couldn't hold him still any more after that. The more we thrashed

around and humped away the weaker I got, pretty soon I was just plain at

his mercy. When he moved, I moved with him--hanging on desperately,

trying to minimize the god awful frictions inside my tortured cunt.

I didn't have the faintest idea what to do about it. Go to the

telephone?

Who would I call? Imagine trying to explain a predicament like that to

anyone and then get myself arrested for bestiality on top of it.

Prominent local woman caught in bestial act. I could see the headlines

now. And I could go on the I've Got A Secret television show and win a

bundle.

The only thought that occurred to me was that I'd heard of people

throwing water or turning a hose on dogs when they got locked together.

If Bozo and I could dunk ourselves in an ice cold bath--that might jar

us loose. But getting that monstrous beast in the bathroom was a major

project that was beyond me. He showed no inclination at all to move in

any directions that I suggested.

So we lay on the floor together endlessly and every hour or two he'd

start a new round of thrashing about, which would always wind up with

him getting horny again and starting anther session of excruciating

fucking in my mince-meat snatch. By now my inner canal was so swollen

and inflamed, it was an even tighter fit than ever around his fat cock,

and all more searing agony for me with every move made.

At last I managed to get to the kitchen with him in one of our

cooperative mobile periods and we shared some meat scraps from the

refrigerator, and then lay together on the kitchen for some hours

afterward until I finally fell asleep, completely exhausted. I woke up

in the middle of the night, a mass of aches and pains, and it took a

minute for me to remember where I was and why. But then in a sudden

flash of joy I realized that I was lying on the floor alone. Bozo was

gone. While I slept he had achieved detumescence apparently and we were

free again. I staggered into the bedroom, hardly able to walk, and

collapsed on the bed. My whole belly was on fire and I was very much

afraid that I had suffered serious internal damage.

And then the damn nightmare wasn't over yet. I was just dozing off again

when Bozo suddenly loomed over me, blowing his seamy breath in my face,

and he jolted awake with a couple of loud barks.

"Oh no," I said. "Haven't you learned your lesson yet for God's sakes?"

Apparently he hadn't, because he pressed me down with his paws again and

started rooting around my poor crotch, all ready to have another

go-around. I didn't have much strength left, but it was life or death to

me at that point. When he barked again I barked back at him just as

loud. "Get off! Go! Get out!" He snapped at me but I swatted him on the

side of the head and managed to slip out from under him and escape. He

jumped after me and gave me a nip on the arm when I pushed him away, but

after a lot of hassling around and a couple more minor bites on the legs

and feet as I kicked at him. I finally got him out of the room by

superhuman brute force and slammed the door on him. He pawed and

scratched at it and barked his head off all the rest of the night, but

Bozo and I were finished. The love affair was over--period.

By morning he was too hungry to be thinking any more about sex, thank

God, and it was safe for me to come out again. Even so, I wore several

layers of clothes and extra-heavy pair of slacks for protection, just in

case.

I had to keep the damn beast with me the rest of the week as per my

agreement with Vivian. I couldn't just toss him out in the alley. But I

sure didn't let him take any more liberties. I kept a broom handle near

me at all times to belt him with in case he got any more horny ideas.

But there was no problem, since I never stripped down again in front of

him, That's what turned him on--the sight and smell of naked pussy. He

was as docile as a lamb as long as you kept yourself decently covered.

I was very relieved to find that my tormented pussy was not seriously

mangled after all and needed no major medical attention. By the end of

the week in fact it was as good as new again. And a whole lot wiser

besides.

Needless to say, I've given up animal fornication for good--gone back to

casual sleeping around with male human animals exclusively, a return to

the habits of my bachelor-girl days. Men can be problems for a poor

defenseless woman and they certainly can bug you in all kinds of ways,

but its reassuring to know that when you lie down with one of them and

when the fuck is finished the meshed connections will come apart again

without major surgery.

Chapter 3 "Passion in the Pasture"

In this, day and age with hordes of young people, hippy and otherwise,

warring against the establishment, politically, socially, morally and

sexually, there is a great urge, among them to try anything at all

that's taboo, just for the sake of rebelling. And if the opportunity for

a "new kick" presents itself--a kick that's way out on the deep end of

sex experience--a kick that is an absolute no-no to the square world,

not only unlawful but unthinkable--that makes it a kick well worth

trying.

Inevitably many youths today might be expected at least once to dabble

experimentally in bestiality. As one young man told me who had tried his

luck at troilism with a girl and a large woolly dog. "Why the hell not,

after all you've done everything else? Anything that the straight

world's moral spokesmen say is absolutely forbidden can't be all bad.

Like so many of our taboos, where's the harm in it actually? Me and my

girl and the dog all enjoyed it, that's for sure."

Case 3: Jack O.

We were going cross-country in one of those "drive-away" cars, you know?

Drive a car to California--all gas paid. One of those deals. There was

me and a buddy of mine, Pedro, and this freaky chick Bessie we picked up

in a fried chicken joint along the way.

Somewhere in Tennessee, I guess it was, we passed by this place like a

ranch, and there was a sign that said SHENENDOAH HORSE

FARM--BREEDING--STUD SERVICE. Something like that. And that got us

talking

Pedro says to Bessie. "Hey man, you want in on a little of that stud

service? Now's your chance to get the screw of a lifetime for yourself."

She laughs and says. "Are you suggesting that I should fuck a horse?"

I said, "Why not? You've made it with everything else that walks, crawls

or flies."

She said, "I'll have you know that I never fucked any creature with more

than three legs in my life."

Pedro says, "You ought to try it with a big, old fucking stallion one

time. One of those huge horse-cocks would be just about the right size

for that goddamn over-sized cunt of yours."

Then they got to throwing names back and forth at each other like

"dinky-dick" and "tunnel-twat" but all in fun, and they wound up like

they always did, rassling around and goosing and grabbing the shit out

of each other on the back seat. I happen to be driving and eating a

chicken leg at the time or I would have been in on it too.

But that's what got us started thinking and talking about animal-fucking

in the first place.

After a while when they'd got tired of rassling, Bessie said, "I wonder

if anybody ever did it with a horse?"

"Are you kidding?" Pedro says. "Didn't you ever hear of people making it

with animals? They fuck with dogs, cows, sheep--even chickens."

"Oh, you're kidding," she said.

"Ask Jack," Pedro said. "He's on old country boy. I bet he's plugged

more'n one sheep in his career."

I told them that sheep fucking isn't worth a shit, despite what you

hear. A half-grown she-calf will give you a hell of a lot better

squeeze-off any day in the week." I was only telling them what I'd heard

from my boyhood buddies actually. I hadn't ever really tried it myself

and didn't have any present intention of starting. I had seen other kids

do it a couple of times. It's pretty common sport around farm country

after all. It's just that the idea never appealed to me much at all.

But a little while after that we passed by a field full of cows and

Bessie yells out," Hey, let's fuck a cow. I gotta see this with my own

eyes before I believe it."

And Pedro says, "Yeah, Jack. What about it? Show us how it's done and

we'll try it." He was at the wheel then, and he pulled off the highway

onto a dirt road that ran up alongside the field.

"Hey, come on, man," I said. "You gotta be kidding. Right out here by

the road?"

He said, "Once we're over this hill we're out of sight. There's more

cows down by those trees. Nobody can see us there from the road. We'll

pick out one with a sexy ass and take her in under the trees out of

sight."

"Ooh, groovy--groovy," Bessie is saying. "I can't wait to see this."

Pedro says, "Is that all you're gonna do is watch?"

She laughed and said," What do you want me to do? Eat the cow's pussy? I

wouldn't want to turn the poor animal into a lesbian."

"Maybe there'll be a bull for you," Pedro said. "He'd give you a fuck to

remember."

Bessie said, "The old Romans used to screw with bulls, didn't they? I

heard that somewhere."

"You don't have to go that far," I told her. "There are still women

doing it today, believe it or not. Bulls--horses--you name it."

"No thanks," she said. "I have enough trouble taking on you guys with

your big fucking Elephant pricks. I'll try it with a cute calf maybe if

there is one, but bulls are out--period."

I happened to recall a bit of history just then that I thought might

interest her. "There was an old Greek King way way back in Argos who had

a couple of beautiful daughters who went off into the fields and lived

naked with the cows and screwed with the bulls, according to ancient

history."

"What the hell were they trying to prove?" Bessie said.

"The book didn't say. Maybe they were just trying to get their names in

the ancient history book."

Pedro said, "Maybe the bulls tore their clothes off and raped them. That

happens quite a lot with bulls." He pulled the car off the road and onto

a rutty track that led into the field and we stopped beside the gate to

the cow pasture. The cows were all staring at us as we got out of the

car.

"Look at them gape," Pedro said. "Didn't they ever see long hair on guys

before?"

Bessie said, "It's my big boobs they're staring at. They're jealous."

I said, "They know we've come to fuck them. They can tell."

"Then why don't they run away?" Bessie said.

"They know it's no use. They know grim determination when they see it.

They can read the burning lust in our eyes."

"Which one shall we fuck?" Bessie said.

Pedro said, "This nearest one has kind of a cute-ass."

I said, "I'm a tit-man myself I kind of like the one with the big boob.

Bessie laughed, "First tit I ever saw with half-a-dozen nipples on it."

"Well, take your pick, lover boy," Pedro said me, belting me on the back

in friendly fashion. "You gonna fuck one of these here critters or are

you not?

"This is ridiculous," I said. "You can't just walk up to any old cow it

a field and shove your prick into her cunt. Nobody does it out in a

field like that. You have to get them in a special stall in a

barn--otherwise they'll never stand still for it."

Ah-h, you're getting chicken, Bessie said.

"Cows are no good anyhow," I told them. "You've got to stand on a box or

something to come up to their level, and then their big old sloppy cunts

are too damn big in size for a man's prick. I told you before--a little

heifer is what you need. They're just the right height from the ground

for easy entry by a man standing, and just the right size of hole too."

"There's a little one over there," Bessie said.

I told her, "That's a he, not a she."

"So, fuck him up the ass," she said. "What difference does it make to a

faggot like you?"

There's a bunch of calves down below," Pedro said. "Come on--let's go

down below."

"Aw, why don't we cut out this shit and get the fuck out of here?" I

said. "This whole thing is idiotic."

But they wouldn't hear of it. No turning back now. They had their hearts

set on seeing a cow-molestation.

"We'll hold onto her for you," Bessie said. "One of those real little

ones shouldn't be much trouble."

"Listen to her," I said. "You want to be an accessory to raping a

juvenile."

"Why not?" she said. "The boys always used to tell me when I was nine,

'When you're big enough, you're old enough.'"

"Come on, man," Pedro said. "I got seconds after you. I always wanted to

try this action."

So we climbed over the gate and took off down the hill, carefully

side-stepping the cow-flow as we went. I had a real sinking feeling

about the whole thing, wishing the goddamn subject had never come up in

the first place. But these two--once they got their feeble minds set on

some wild piece of stupidity, there was no turning them aside.

The cows moved away from us, sort of wary, as we came by. It almost

seemed as if they knew what we were after. And it wasn't even the mating

season for cows.

We picked out a cute little brown calf with a white head and tail. She

was gonna be it, like it or not. But I knew we were going to have a

rough old time, whether those other fools realized it or not. It's no

joke trying to catch a calf--even a little one--and no fun trying to

hold her once you get her.

"And another thing," I told them. "Whichever one of these bastards is

her mother isn't gonna like it worth a damn when we start screwing

around with her calf."

Bessie laughed. "What can a cow do?"

"Listen, kid," I said. "When a wild-eyed cow comes charging at us, just

don't stand in my way--okay?"

Anyhow, we circled around this little old calf about three feet high and

closed in on her from three sides, and it wasn't such a problem as I

expected it would be. She bleated a couple of times and jumped sideways

and fidgeted a little, but she must've been used to being manhandled,

because she let Pedro and Bessie grab onto her without too much fuss.

There was a big old cow nearby watching us pretty close--must've been

mother--but she didn't seem too concerned. So what if her only child was

about to get diddled by a couple of dirty old men? What the hell.

Pedro got a good arm-lock on the little bastard's neck and Bessie was

down on the ground underneath her, holding her around the middle.

"You better get up out of there," I said. "You're gonna get kicked in

the goddamn head. I said.

She said, "Oh, she wouldn't dream of kicking me. She's so cute. I love

her." She began stroking the calf tenderly and kissing her ratty hide.

"Ooh, I wish could and make love to her. Isn't there some way? Ooh

man--I want to feel her rubbing all over me."

She hopped up and pulled off her mini-dress over her head and Bessie

tossed away. That was it for her, clothes-wise. Bessie never wore

underwear of any kind. Said it was "too confining, and unsanitary

besides." So here she was naked again--her natural condition. Bessie

never passed up an excuse to get naked for whatever reason--in public or

private.

She threw herself against the calf now, rubbing her dirty white hide up

against the calf's dirty brown one. She lifted up one long skinny leg

and rubbed her inner thigh along the calf's hind leg and then squashed

her floppy boobs down against her flank and ground her nipples against

the rough hide.

"Ooh, this is groovy," she cooed. "Isn't there some way I can make it

with her? Tell me how there must something sexy she can do to me."

Pedro gave her a hard swipe across the ass. "Will you cool it for Christ

sakes? I want to see Jack fuck this goddamn beast. Isn't that what we

stopped for? You can get your jollies later. Now grab on there again.

will you? We gotta hold this mother-fucker still. You're just getting it

all stirred up with your shit."

She said, "Well, come on then, Jack. I want to watch this too. Are you

gonna screw her or not?"

I said, "The thing is, I don't exactly feel in a hard-on mood right at

the moment. To tell the truth, I miss the preliminary intimacies of the

love-making process."

"Oh shit," Bessie said. "I'll fix that." She came over to me and

unzipped my fly for me--she was very good at zippers--I think she

majored in zippers at college--and then I let her pull down my pants and

shorts and lit a cigarette while she went to work with her hot lips and

snaky tongue on my flaccid member. It didn't take long. With her fingers

at my balls and her mouth doing its usual brisk gobble-job on the old

weenie, I was hard as a rock before I even threw the match away.

"Why don't we just forget about that fucking heifer? I said, patting

Bessie's tousled head. She was a pig, but a number one blow-jobber, that

kid. I'd just as soon carry on with what we're presently doing, if it's

all the same with you."

But she let loose of me as soon as I was all the way up and vibrating

and she dashed back to the calf to grab hold again.

"Come on," she screamed. "Now that you got it up--use it!"

I felt like a damn idiot, but what could I do? There I was standing the

middle of somebody's field with my pants down and a rampaging hard-on

shining in the sunlight. What else was there to do but fuck a cow?

I knew it wasn't going to work though. You have to break a young calf in

gradually. Diddle her with a dildo and all that, before she's ready to

take a real meat-prick. But I decided I might as well go through the

motions of it anyhow--put on a show for these freaks.

"If you want to be helpful," I said, "you hold her head, Bessie, and let

Pedro take her hind legs. You gotta really hang on there if it's gonna

work. I just don't want to get kicked in the balls, if you don't mind."

They switched around like I said, in deference my balls, and then it was

party time. "Hold that tiger," I said. "Here I come--ready or not. I

kicked off my pants and moved in behind the little brown ass, trying to

remember how I'd seen other kids do it back on the farm.

First I thought I'd better find a stick or something though poke in

there and sort of try the passageway.

"Let's go, man," Pedro yelled. "She's getting hot for you already. I can

feel it."

I decided I'd just use my hand to test the hole. If I could get a couple

of fingers inside, that would give me an idea whether I'd have a

fighting chance at risking my fragile ding-dong in the rump of that

treacherous son of a bitch. I moved in cautiously, I wasn't really sure

whether these bastards kicked or not, but I felt awful goddamn

vulnerable with my weenie out in the open air, standing high wide and

handsome with no protection whatever between it and the possible fury of

a rampaging beast.

I began by patting her ever so gently on the flanks and speaking soft

seductive words. Calm her down--that was the thing.

"Nice baby. Sweet little heifer. Daddy loves you--yes indeed." What the

hell do you say to a calf, anyhow? Everybody knows how to talk to dogs

and cats and horses. But who ever heard of talking to a cow? Anyhow, she

hadn't started kicking yet at least.

"Hold that bastard, whatever you do," I whispered to Pedro. Then I

started patting and probing down along the crack of her ass. She

shivered a little when I touched close to home but no major reactions

yet. Even when I gave her a couple of pats on the pussy--no alarm bells.

She didn't really flinch until I dug one finger down the inner edges of

her crease and sort of eased open the outer flaps just a hair. Then she

crouched down a bit and twitched her tail at me I gave her another

reassuring pat on the side of the ass and talked to her some more before

I tried digging any deeper. I was hoping to hell she wasn't as nervous I

was.

"What the hell are you doing back there?" Pedro yelled. "Looking for the

hole?"

"Sh-h," I said. "Don't spook her, goddamnit. You gotta take these things

slow when you're dealing with a shy young female critter."

Bessie said, "You never showed all this sweet consideration when you

were fucking around my rear end. Wham bam is all I ever got."

I said, "Different cows call for different kinds of handling." I'd let

her figure that one out.

She said, "Moo-oo!"

Now I got first one finger up inside her and then two fingers, and I

worked them into about the second knuckle and diddled around very

carefully. Her cunt was soft and warm and wet and slimy--not a hell of a

lot different in feel and shape from a woman's pussy. It was sort of

like rooting around in some big old whore's snatch actually, is what it

made me think of.

I got my whole hand in there, finally and started to ease it in and out

slow and easy, and she was sort of twitching and fidgeting now and

swatting hell out of me with her tail and trying to shuffle her hind

feet, but Pedro had a good grip on her.

When she started shaking her head up and down and bleating to beat hell.

"Ma-a-a--ma-a-a-a!" That did it. Mama got the message and this big

fierce-looking black and white cow took a couple of steps our way and

let out a moo that would wake the dead.

Bessie squealed and yelled, "Watch it I think she's coming for us."

"You're a woman," I said. "You talk to her. Tell her it's okay."

Bessie yelled at the cow, "Moo-oo-mo-oo!"

That seemed to confuse her and she backed off again.

Pedro laughed, "Whatever you said to her, it must've been the right

thing."

I figured now was the time if I ever was going to get it into this

little fucker's cunt and be done with it. Hang on you bastards," I said.

"Hang on. Here goes nothing."

I stepped up behind the calf gave my prick a couple of hard strokes to

firm it up, and the laid it on that little slit right where my fingers

had been and eased the head of it very carefully inside. It went in as

easy as the fingers had. I felt the warm soft snatch clutch onto it--a

real pleasant feeling actually. I began to think that this might turn

out to be a groovier piece of action than maybe I'd figured on, once I

got all the way in. I put the pressure on and pushed forward from the

hips as hard as I could, but slow and easy still, and inch-by-inch that

sweet little the goddamn cow-twat swallowed my prick right up to the

goddamn root.

"Hey man, I'm in!" I said.

"Pump her--pump her, goddamn-it," Pedro hollered

I gave it a couple of easy pokes and then started riding it in and out

quicker and quicker as I worked into a groove. Now the calf began

twitching like she had the itch--shuddering all over--and she was

raising a hell of a racket. "Ma-a-a-ma-a-a!!" or words to that effect.

And then, by God, it seemed like every fucking cow in the whole fucking

field started bellowing all at once. Jeezus, what a racket!

I was beginning to get warm feelings in the gonads about then and so I

pumped all the harder, trying to get my nuts off before something

happened to interrupt thing but I didn't quite make it. All of a sudden

everything happened at once. The heifer freaked-out completely and in

one violent twist she broke free from Pedro's arms and my prick all at

the same time. I wound up with my pecker hanging loose in the open air,

halfway to orgasm, and I got a wicked kick on the kneecap besides, that

damn near broke my fucking leg.

The calf went prancing off away from me with Bessie still hanging onto

her neck, all sprawled out, her legs flying in the air, screeching

bloody murder.

Pedro was yelling to her, "Let go! Let go!" But she was hanging on with

a death-grip, scared shit-less.

With all the cows in the damn field starting to mill around now--every

one of them bellowing their heads off--it looked like we were about to

get caught in the middle of the goddamndest stampede you ever saw.

And then the final blow. "Oh shit," Pedro yelled. "There's a truck

coming up the hill. Let's get the fuck out of here."

There sure was a truck. A little pick-up with at least three men in it,

coming to find out who the hell was raping their cows. I made a grab for

my pants and started running and trying to pull them on all at the same

time.

Pedro was yelling, "Wait! Wait for Bessie."

I'm thinking, Fuck Bessie. If we got caught, I was the sucker that was

gonna get hung for this little caper. So I kept running as fast I could

with my drooping drawers round my busted kneecap, and once I got the

pants up and fastened I made it to the car with plenty to spare. The

only trouble was, Pedro had gone back to rescue Bessie and he had the

car-keys in his goddamn pocket.

So what could I do? The guys from the truck had already grabbed bare-ass

Bessie. She was giving them a pretty good battle and screeching her head

off, but they had her captured and Pedro too. The game was up, as they

say.

So I took a deep breath and said a prayer and then started back up the

pasture join the crowd. I was hoping was that those guys hadn't noticed

me screwing their calf. Farmers don't take kindly that shit--I know from

experience. A man might have his dick into his own cows and sheep and

pigs and every other damn animal in sight, but he doesn't like anybody

else messing around his livestock--any more than he wants them screwing

his wife or daughter.

But they'd seen me at it all right. They been watching us the whole time

with binoculars, the goddamn perverts, and they had me dead to rights.

They could've locked up my ass and thrown away the key forever if they'd

wanted to press it. But lucky for me they turned out to be reasonable

men.

They took what money we had on us to pay for "damages" and beyond that

they settled for one bump a piece with Bessie. I guess they figured that

we fucked their cow and so now it was their turn to fuck ours.

Pedro put up a fuss about it, but they told him it was either that or

jail. We'd already tried jail one time and we didn't want to go through

that shit again. Anyhow, I didn't hear any serious objections from

Bessie about paying her forfeit. Any time that chick could save her ass

from trouble just by giving somebody a fast hump or a suck-off, she

figured she was getting off easy.

So the guys spread out a blanket in the back of the truck and had their

turns with her, and they sure took their sweet time at it too. But that

was Bessie's fault more than theirs. There was no such thing as a

quickie with that chick. You might say she took pride in her craft and

so never turned away a client unsatisfied. So she gave those four horny

hillbillies the full treatment--screw, blew and tattoo--and left them

all laughing and full of kind feelings, which I was mighty happy to see.

It was sundown when we finally wrapped up and got the hell out of there.

The cows were all back in the barn with their lawful guardians, having

their udders jerked and, squeezed and submitting to who knows what other

acts of bestial depravity.

Nobody in our crowd was talking much.

Finally I said, "Man, we were lucky to get out of there as easy as we

did. I've known cow-fuckers to get put away for ten years or more back

home. That no laughing matter around farm country. The next time you

mother-fuckers want to somebody screw a cow, include me out--okay?"

Pedro mumbled, "Those goddamn hillbilly pricks. They had no right to act

like that. They're nothing but a bunch of animals themselves, raping a

helpless girl that way. If they hadn't had that gun with them, by God,

I'd have beat the crap out of them."

Bessie said, "What's everybody bitching about? Everything worked out

great in the end, didn't it?"

And I guess that was true as far as she was concerned. She'd got what

she craved out of it, that was for sure. And just to round off her

day--since I never had got to finish my business with that heifer--I let

Bessie polish off my prick there on the back seat in her own inimitable

way. Her cunt didn't exactly clamp down and grab hold of my member the

way the calf's did, but screwing Bessie's friendly fuck-hole was a hell

of a lot less nerve-racking experience--that's for sure.

And since that time all the beasts I've put it into have been the

two-legged human variety--you can bet your sweet ass on that. As far as

I'm concerned, animals are for the birds.

Chapter 4 "A Bird in the Bird"

Chapter deleted from this copy. Contained slaughter of birds and murder.

Chapter 5 "Freaky Fuckers"

A young friend of mine, when he heard I was surveying the subject of

bestiality, suggested that I to check out a freaky chick of his

acquaintance who had been known to perform wild stunts with a small dog

at parties and other social gatherings. I looked into the matter and

came across Julia, a beautiful, twentyish fugitive from the

love-generation. She had dropped out of high school and split from home

at seventeen and in the two or three years since then set some kind of

world's record for variety of sexual couplings on her whirl-wind

wanderings--making the grand tour of hippie colonies and crash-pads from

coast to coast. She was presently reported to be living as a "voluntary

white-slave" with a pair of unemployed black poets.

Case 5: Julia C.

I was introduced to Julia in a luncheonette booth where she was

surrounded by a motley collection of her friends and fans of all ages,

sexes and colors.

"I hear you wanted to interview me," she said. "What's it for?" somebody

asked, "Indoor Sports Illustrated?"

They all seemed to think that was pretty funny. I didn't know just how

to approach the subject I had in mind to her. Even without the crowd in

attendance and in spite of her wild reputation, I couldn't very well ask

a strange girl bluntly, "Is it true that you fuck dogs at parties?"

I tried to arrange a private interview session with her for a later time

but the best I could get from her in her dreamy high condition was an

invitation to "see me at the bash tonight." I figured I'd have to settle

for that for the time being. At the 'bash' maybe I'd be able to corner

her and get her talking, or maybe I'd even get to see her do her famous

dog act in person if I was lucky.

It turned out to be no ordinary party but a staged affair, specially set

up to be filmed for an underground movie. I felt a bit freaky myself

when I walked in, being the only one present in a business suit. The

costumes generally were pretty far over the line on the nude side--with

most of the girls covered more by paint, spangles and pasted-on flowers

than by clothes. The music was pounding--lights flashing--and everyone,

dutifully writhing about in primitive dance movements while a couple of

hairy camera men roamed the floor, shooting orgiastic close-ups of them

all, mostly at tit and crotch level.

I found Julia stretched out flat in a corner under a cloud of blue

pot-smoke of her own making.

"Why aren't you in the movie?" I said, inhaling a cautious noseful of

her heady exhaust fumes.

She laughed dreamily. Her big beautiful eyes didn't seem to be quite

focusing on me. "My big scene comes later," she said. "Stick around."

She had on an over-sized T-shirt like a mini-dress, with a man's necktie

around the waist as a sash. I got the impression that she was not

wearing anything at all underneath it, but I couldn't be sure in the dim

light. Then something stirred behind her and I noticed for the first

time a little dirty-grey mop of a poodle lying there. He was staring up

at me with one blurry eye and I would have sworn that the dog was as

stoned as she was.

"You brought your dog along I see," I said.

"That's what you came for, wasn't it?" she said, "to meet the dog act?"

I laughed nervously. "Did they tell you the subject of my book?"

"Bestial practices, isn't it? That's my thing, baby. Me and Sir

Clarence."

"Er--what do you--you and Clarence--how do you -?" I didn't know quite

how to phrase the question.

"Are they actually going to film you and the dog--er--in action?" I

asked.

"Shit yeah. Why not? It's the grand Technicolor climax of the whole

mother-fucking movie."

"Aren't you afraid if getting in trouble by putting yourself on record

that way? Making it with dog is sort of illegal, you know."

She laughed and patted Clarence's belly. "Everything I do is illegal.

It's the only way to live." She punctuated her point by blowing a cloud

of highly illegal smoke up into my face.

Just then a very large Afro American bruiser appeared from nowhere and

gave me what I took to be an unfriendly size-up. I figured he must be

one of the poet slave-masters I'd heard about, although he looked more

like a middle linebacker than a bard. He snapped his fingers at Julia.

"Come on--up. Let's go. They're ready for you and you ain't ready."

She sprang up and the dog popped up with her. The black man took hold of

her T-shirt and peeled it up over her head, which left her naked as a

jaybird just as I expected. Both her breasts--round and firm and

beautiful--had been painted blue, and there were arrows running down

from them across her ribs and belly, pointing towards her pussy, which

was shaved bald. Otherwise there was just acres and acres of beautiful

golden naked skin, as far the eye could see.

Her black master clapped a possessive hand onto her ass and said

harshly, "You better not muck up the deal, baby, or you know what you

get."

She picked up the poodle and hugged it to her breasts "He'll be all

right tonight," she said. "He's too stoned to be scared. We'll give them

a complete show, don't worry."

"Oh, I ain't worrying, baby," he said, giving her ass-cheek a hard grab

and a twist. "I leave that to you."

The music had quit now and the lights all of a sudden came up brighter.

"We're ready for the dog-act," somebody yelled out.

The black man slapped Julia and she gave me a wink and went skipping off

in the bright light, clutching her woolly lover tight to her with his

head perched up between her bobbing boobs.

I moved off to find myself a seat where I could be out of the way of the

bustling technicians but still get a good ringside view of whatever act

of shameless bestiality was about to unfold.

A character with a handlebar moustache and a purple scarf who I took to

be the director was at center stage under cloud of cigar smoke.

"Right here," he yelled at Julia in a startling, near-soprano voice.

"The camera's centered on this spot, so keep your dirtiest action in

this area, give or take a yard two."

Julia moved into the light beside him and they went into a conference

together, with the director patting and stroking either the dog's head

or one of her blue boobs--it was hard to tell which from where stood.

Then he backed off, leaving her there alone with her little dog. The

other kids took positions on the floor around her in a semi-circle,

acting the part of her audience.

"Okay, baby," the director called out. "As soon as the camera's rolling

you just go into your thing. We'll keep on shooting continuously--two

cameras covering the whole scene long shot and close-up--let's get it

all in one take."

"You better," she said. "Clarence might not hold up if you want

re-takes. He's a one-shot man."

The director held up his hand and yelled, "Okay, we're rolling--and GO!"

Julia set the dog down and he trotted away from her, out of the circle

of light. Then she took a cigarette that someone handed her and struck a

"prostitute on a street corner" pose, with hand on out-thrust hip.

A boy came walking in, wearing a large cardboard fig-leaf. He stopped,

eyed Julia up and down, circled around her once, and then raising up his

fig-leaf and flipped his red-painted prick at her in a hip-bump.

She put her nose in the air and turned away from him in scorn. He

shrugged, bumped his blue ass towards her disdainfully and moved away.

Then Lord Clarence the poodle came high stepping in. He stopped just

like the boy had done, cocked his head and looked her over, and then

circled around her once. Julia was absolutely still, ignoring him

altogether.

Clarence moved in close to her feet, sniffed around her for a bit, and

then all of a sudden he lifted his hind leg, assumed the classic

curb-side posture, and began pissing against her ankle. She still held

her position but turned her head and glanced down, the dog went on

pissing nonchalantly until he was finished and then moved away again and

sat down nearby to watch her.

Julia looked down at the puddle she was standing in now and she wiggled

her toes about, sloshing them in the piss-pool. Then bent down and

dipped her hands into it and began dabbing her ear-lobes and neck and

boobs and underarms as if it were some kind of dainty perfume. Finally

she put a finger into her mouth and licked it, sampling the flavor, and

she smiled down approvingly at Clarence. He sat up then in a begging

position and began wagging his tail, and Julia turned sideways and

wiggled her tail at him.

After that they circled around each other a couple more times and then

Julia got down on hands and knees and they moved in close and sniffed

each other's noses. Clarence ran around behind her and took a sniff of

her ass, and then she bent down and did the same thing to him. They were

making quite a production out of it. It was going to be something brand

new for the movies, by all indications. And the action hadn't even begun

yet. So far I'd have given it an 'R' rating--not recommended for

children under sixteen.

But things got pretty 'X'y from there on. Clarence scurried around

behind her began and began licking away at her rear-end--asshole, cunt,

the works. After a little bit of that action they reversed positions

once again and she went to work on the little mutt's hind-quarters.

The boys with the cameras had moved in now. No more long shots.

Everything would be in full-screen close-ups from here on apparently. I

moved in myself just beyond the circle of prop spectators, to be sure I

didn't miss any of the action myself.

The little poodle was in a sort of spread-legged squat, his hind legs

trembling, as Julia's pretty pink tongue worked up under the cleft of

his tail-end. Then she flopped over suddenly onto her back, grabbed

Clarence and pulled him up over her face. With his hind legs straddling

her cheeks, she proceeded to rain kisses and lip-nuzzlings on his little

prick, which didn't stay little very long thereafter. She sucked him up

to a respectable dog-sized, erection and then she did a quick flip over

onto her back and twisted herself around while little Lord Clarence

patiently stood by, quivering all over in anticipation of the delights

to come. She popped open her legs with a dramatic flourish, aiming her

split pussy point-blank at the dog and into the peering eyes of the

floor-level cameras.

She whistled softly and snapped her fingers and Clarence gave a little

answering yip and then leaped forward up into the V of her sprawled

crotch. He climbed up over her belly with his front paws, his prick

straining forward in the cleft below, his tail wagging furiously.

"Go, man," the director called out, clapping his hands. Already he was

counting up his profits from this history-making film epic that he saw

happening before his very cameras.

But Lord Clarence needed no director to urge him on at this point. He

knew his part and carried it through without a hitch. Julia didn't have

to guide him into her. She only laid a hand on the fuzzy topknot of his

head and patted him affectionately while he squirmed his slim little

butt and wormed his out-thrust prick up into the ready-receptacle of her

slit. As soon as he was well-up inside, he began a fast humping,

pounding a furious tattoo against her.

Julia spread her legs wider to an incredible near 180 degree split,

raised her feet off the floor and kicked out in time with the rapid

rhythm of Clarence's pumping action. She quivered her ass-cheeks, shook

her boobs, and pounded out a syncopated counter-beat the tile floor with

the palms of her hands.

"Ohhhh, sock it to me!" she sang. "Drive it home!"

The cameras were right in there now--inches from the action--blocking my

view. But I could still see Clarence's pompom-tipped tail wig-wagging

furiously in the air and hear his shrill yips as he drove on toward

orgasm.

Then all of a sudden the cameramen leaped up and backed away. Clarence

had finally called it quits apparently and now he just lay still where

he was, up against her belly and still plugged into her passage but

obviously past his orgasm. Only his tail was still in action, waving in

the air feebly but triumphantly to celebrate another smash performance

under pressure.

I got up myself assuming that this was the end of the act, ready to join

everybody else in a round of applause. But the show wasn't over yet

after all. There was a grand finale yet to come, and it turned out to be

a piece of action that I guarantee you had never appeared on any motion

picture screen before in history.

Julia laid her hands on Clarence's back and held him there and then she

eased herself up slowly to a squat--then to kneeling--and finally all

the way up onto her feet, still with the little grey mop of a puppy

pressed tight to her out-thrust belly.

She stroked his head and bumped her hips against him a couple of times

to firm up the inside connection. Then she raised first one hand and

then the other in the air, and I and behold! Little Lord Clarence was

hanging there in thin air, his paws braced against her pussy and thighs,

but supported only by his rigid, bulbous prick, jammed tight up inside

her tight-clutching cunt.

She humped her hips again and then did a hula grind, but Clarence never

budged--he was firmly locked on. Then, smiling broadly, she went into a

little spread-legged dance step, spinning and gliding about the floor in

her bizarre poodle pussy-patch.

It ended finally with her flopping down on her back again, grabbing hold

of Clarence, and then the two of them went into a wild final fuck with

the both of them hip-jerking together even more frantically than before,

and both of them barking, "Yip-yip-yip!" at one another.

At last Julia let out a wailing shriek, presumably of unbearable

orgasmic ecstasy, and with that the lights cut off and the show and the

film sequence were finished.

And so finally I had seen Julia's fabulous dog-act with my own eyes. And

now that I'd seen it, I was more eager than ever interview young Julia

and find out for myself how a sweet young maid from the country had

managed to make good as a white slave, drug-freak, and bestial

exhibitionist in the big city.

Her black keeper hustled her away that night before I could get to her

again for further conversation, but I finally succeeded in setting up an

exclusive lunch date with her and at long last I was able sit down in a

quiet place with her and Lord Clarence and throw a few questions her

way.

One's first impulse might be to feel sorry for Julia--- that such a

sweet, angel-looking young doll should have gotten herself into such a

variety of sordid messes at such an early age, but after talking with

her and hearing her own version of her "degradation" process I found

that she had a remarkably casual attitude towards it all and certainly

did not pity herself in the least. It may be that she has gone far out

into left field on various kinds of drug trips that she just doesn't

care what happens any more. But let her tell it as she told it to me ...

Isley--Why should an intelligent and very beautiful girl like yourself

submit to such body abuse and abasement? Any rational reason?

Julia (with a laugh and a shrug)--Me and my body are two separate

things. My head is where I live. Everything's cool and beautiful inside

there. The things I do with my body are something else again. I use it

for kicks--to get me around--to earn bread--to give pleasure to others.

It's immaterial to me what I do with my body--it's nothing sacred to me.

Only my mind is sacred. Nothing reaches there unless I want it to.

Isley--Unfortunately your mind is fixed to your body. So if your mind

wants to go here but your body is being forced to somewhere else, then

you have to go with it whether your mind likes it, or not.

Julia--Oh, but nobody makes me do things I don't want to do. I dig all

the things that happen to my body. When I freak out other people it

freaks me out too.

Isley--How did you get involved in this bestiality business? Was that

your idea, or did somebody steer you into it?

Julia--Oh, that was the cats I'm living with now. They made me do it

once--trying to humiliate me. That was before they found out it's

impossible to do. You can humiliate my body--I dig everything.

Especially if its something that nobody else would do.

Isley--These men you live with are both black, aren't they? Do you dig

black men especially?

Julia--Not particularly. I'll tell you how I got into that. I met this

one boy, Courtland, at a party and he started giving me a lecture about

snooty white bitches. I just laughed and told him he was wrong--I didn't

give a shit if he was green or purple.

He said, "You wouldn't date me though. You wouldn't sleep with me."

So I went with him just to prove he was wrong--prove it to myself too, I

guess. But even after I slept with him he couldn't get over these

hang-ups, I had keep proving everything to him. I sucked his prick--I

swallowed his come--I ate his asshole.

Isley--All this just to prove you weren't prejudiced?

Julia--No, I would've done it for anybody that asked me. I told you, I

dig doing whatever anybody thinks I won't do. Courtland really flipped

me. I'd never met anyone so hard to convince--so paranoid. I was feeling

groovier and groovier all the time and he was getting more and more

frustrated because he couldn't find the place where I'd draw the line.

Then he started slapping me around to work off his aggressions and he

told me, that he wasn't going to let me go home. He was keeping me

around his pad just for kicks. I told him. groovy! I got no place else

to go.

Isley--How about getting beaten up? Did you dig that too?

Julia--Aside from helping him work off steam, it did sort of turn me on

too, strange as it may sound. I never had been really treated

rough--most guys treat me too nice all the time. That gets to be a drag.

Getting manhandled that way for once really lit my fire. From then on he

punched me around every now and then when he'd get uptight and he'd lay

into me with a belt sometimes too. He told me he was gonna pay me back

for all the black people in history that had been beaten by whites. That

made it all the groovier for me--connecting it up with history and

racial guilt that way.

Since then it's been real groovy for me with him all the way. No matter

what happens--everything I do for him is paying off installments on our

debt to the black race.

It doesn't work for him though unfortunately. I guess the fun in being

master over somebody is in seeing him or her suffer. I know it makes him

madder than hell that no matter what he does to me I always seem to

enjoy it.

Isley--How did this second black man come into the picture?

Julia--Well, Courtland--always looking for a new hassle to lay on

me--tried spook me one night by threatening to invite all his friends in

for a gang-bang on me. I laughed and said, "Wowhee--groovy."

That made him even madder and he started right in calling up all the

cats he knew, but the only one he could get hold of was E.I. He told

E.I., "Come on over, man. I got a blonde cunt here that's hot for it."

E.I. came over and he balled me pretty good and after Courtland had told

him everything about me, he invited himself to move in and take over

half-ownership. It was all the same with me. Since then E.I. has been

pretty much taking care of me on the business end.

Isley--Who supports this cozy little household?

Julia--Well, the two guys make bread mostly by loaning me out to their

friends. E.I. is the businessman of the crowd. He's always thinking up

new ways cash in on me. And we do all right for ourselves, I gotta

admit.

Isley--Don't either of them ever work?

Julia--Well, they're poets, you know that doesn't pay off too good. The

things I do pay better than the things they do. It's as simple as that.

Sometimes E.I. works with me in a fuck-show and then we both make bread

for that.

Isley--Is that how the dog act started a way to make money?

Julia--Not exactly. Clarence is E.I.'s dog, and he already had the dog

trained to lick his prick just for private pleasure. Then he taught him

to lap my pussy and made me suck the dog too. One night when we were all

stoned they got the dog to actually screw me for the first time. It

worked so good that we began showing it off to other kids we knew for

kicks and gradually from there it sort of developed bit by bit into the

act that I do now.

But I didn't ever do it in public shows until one night when E.I. and I

were putting on a sex-exhibition for this businessmen party. We

sixty-nined and stood on our heads and fucked and all our usual shit

like that. After we were done they all wanted an encore, but E.I. was

fucked out and couldn't cut it I said. "Hey, how about if I do the dog

thing, man?"

And that's how it started. Clarence and me have been knocking them dead

ever since.

Isley--And now you're a movie star besides. Being at the pinnacle of

show business success at last, what do you see in your future?

Julia--Ooh, we're all going to Africa. Kenya, I think. Won't that be

groovy?

Isley--Planning to do your dog act in the Nairobi opera house?

Julia--E.I. thinks we could actually do it nightclubs over there in some

of those countries. He says those cats flip over blonde chicks over

there. We're gonna get a monkey or a baby lion even maybe and work out a

whole big sex-scene with different kinds of animals. About four big

black men and me--the white goddess--and then these animals--and

everybody will be fucking and sucking everybody--the people and the

animals all together--WOW--won't that be wild?

Isley--I don't know if Africa is quite ready for it yet. But good luck

to you and all your furry friends and please be sure to drop me a

postcard.

Chapter 6 "Take That, You Swine"

Of all the readily available animals found around the farm, probably the

pig is the one that the outsider would be least likely to call

"lovable". In our jokes and imaginings about barnyard bestiality, we

usually picture a sheep, a cow, a goat, or perhaps a horse as the animal

partner. Surely no man or boy, even one so depraved as to pollute

himself by bestial practices, would be attracted to such an ugly, smelly

filthy--wallowing swill eating beast as a pig.

But farm boys know better. When allowed to live in decent conditions, a

pig is one of the cleanest of all animals. When he is made a special pet

like Lil Abner's Salomi, he is loyal and warmly affectionate. Rochelle

Owens' off-Broadway hit play Futz dealt with a young man who carried on

a love affair with his pet pig, and it has now been made into a

Technicolor movie, probably the first picture ever made for theatrical

release on the subject of bestiality.

Peeople who have had a close association with pigs, tell us that they

are among the most intelligent of all domestic animals, possessing the

lively curiosity of the cat, and above all that they are veritable

bottomless wells of sexual passion, who will with a little practice

become ardent sex partners for human beings.

The man in the following case grew up on a farm but never had any

bestial sex relations at any time except for one minor incident with

another boy who induced him to smear molasses on his penis and allow a

heifer to lick it off. But there was not even an orgasm on that

occasion.

However when he was a student at a mid-western agricultural college, he

went through a bizarre bestiality experience with two "pigs" as part of

a fraternity initiation rite. He tells about it in his own words.

Case 6: Terry B.

No need to mention the frat by name, or the school. They may still be

using the same initiation gimmick for all I know. I've been out of touch

with them lately so I don't really know.

It was a hell of a trick they pulled on us, and then I helped them to

pull off the same gag on new pledges myself. A couple of guys balked at

doing it, but nobody ever blew the whistle on us.

To get right to the point, I had been accepted into the fraternity and

all that was left was the formality of the initiation. I'd heard it was

a real doozey--very different from what any other frat put you through.

But I wasn't too nervous about it. So you get your ass paddled or some

such juvenile shit. No big deal. There were fifteen of us new pledges

and I figured I could stand anything the other guys could.

Came the night and we all gathered at the frat house. We went through a

lot of bull-shit rituals at first--bowing down--reciting sacred

pledges--signing our names in blood--and so on. But that was all what I

expected, more or less.

What came afterwards was the gas! They sat us down and said we had

passed all tests so far and now we were going to be entertained.

"We've got a young pig here from the Brass Cat, the man said. That was a

downtown striptease bar that most of us were too young to be allowed in.

"This pretty little pig is going to dance for your enjoyment and

education, leaving nothing to the imagination, and then when she's

finished you all will have a chance--each and every one of you--to enjoy

a little pig-fucking for yourself in the adjacent bedroom. Before you

are accepted as a full-fledged member and fraternity brother in this

house, you must prove to the watchful eyes of our fornication and

buggery committee that you are worthy cocksmen to live up to our high

traditions and campus-wide reputation."

Well, at that point we didn't get the significance of the word 'pig' in

what he was saying. We assumed that he was rearing to some fat old whore

with warts that would come out and shake her blubbery ass and then lie

down and open up her tunnel for everybody to fuck.

But there turned out to be a couple of real big surprises. First of all

the dancer came prancing out, and you wouldn't have called this a pig by

any stretch of the imagination. She was a gorgeous young chick--looked

like a college kid--and boy she really set our mouths watering. To think

we were going to see this chubby little honey take it all off and shake

her beautiful paraphernalia in our direction, and then afterwards spread

it on the sheets for our sharing pleasure was a powerful bit of good

news. And for me that was a surprise! We'd been expecting a rough ordeal

at this initiation and it was turning out to be candy and cake.

She was just a little peanut of a girl--short and squatty--but she was

round and bulgy all over, especially in the boob department. And her ass

was a sight to see besides--sweet little round, fat cheeks. She was only

wearing a little stringy belt on her hips that didn't cover a damn thing

down in those parts, and a stringy bra up top with the cups cut out of

it. So she might as well have been bare-ass mother-naked in the first

place, since all the pretty little pink parts were right out there in

the lamplight to be gaped at.

I don't know about the other guys, but she sure got a quick rise out of

me. Right away she began doing split bumps and high kicks right in our

faces and there was the cutest little fuzzy blonde pussy you ever saw in

your life, all gooey wet and warm-looking, flashing dirty invitations at

us from a couple of feet away.

I remarked to the kid next to me. "Man, if fucking that is the price I

got to pay to join this frat, I'm ready to make the supreme sacrifice."

Man, did she put on a performance! She'd rear back and give us a little

pussy-split--a little ass-bounce--a little titty-jiggle--throwing it at

us from five directions at once. Then she'd lean over and dance right

down along the front row of us, shaking those lardy boobs about an inch

from everybody's nose.

"Hot damn, she singed my eyebrows!" one kid said.

Well, she kept on with that until she had us about ready to cream in our

pants and then she went whirling off out of the room again and that was

the end of it. We all groaned and booed and yelled we wanted more.

The president got up again, holding up his hand for quiet. "Peace,

men--peace," he said. "Enough of tit-tossing, teasing and titillation.

The time is come for each and every man here to partake of his share in

the feast. I'm happy to see that you all found our carefully selected

dancing pig so attractive to your eyes. But just to be absolutely sure

that everyone is satisfied and enjoys a congenial screw, we have brought

in a second pig to take care of the overflow. Even chubbier and cuddlier

than the first that everybody gets his fair share of the action, some of

you will get to fuck pig number one and some of you will try the equally

luscious pussy-passage of pig number two. I trust that all of us,

including the two very willing pigs, will be more than satisfied here

tonight."

At that point some of the smarter guys in the crowd were beginning to

smell out the gag. All that talk about a "second pig" gave them the

clue, or at least that's what they claimed afterwards. But little old

stupid me didn't suspect a damn thing. I really thought I was going to

get to sink my hungry dick up into that sweet little blonde

dancer--either her or her twin sister. Naturally I imagined that pig

number two was going to be a carbon copy of pig number one--in other

words no pig at all, but one gorgeous young chick. Ha!

I was number three in the line--two other guys got to go out into the

back room and make it before me. They never did come out again to give

the rest of us a clue. Once you'd gone in and found out what the joke

was, they let you stay in there afterwards watch the rest of the gang

come in and make jackasses of themselves.

It took about ten or twenty minutes for each of the first two guys to go

through their scene in there, and then the door opened and the man

called my name. Man, I was nervous! I was horny as hell and barely able

to keep a rein on my goddamn rampaging boner, but this was going to be

my first public fuck performance and I wasn't all that sure of how I'd

do when the bell rang. I mean, I never had to worry about how I looked

before in the saddle.

I came in through the door and sure enough--there were the "two pigs"

right out in front of me--perched up on a round-top table. One of them

was the little dancer we'd seen, squatting there bare--ass and grinning

at me real friendly, and the other was of course what you guessed a long

time ago--a real, live, barnyard--animal type pig, big as life also

bare-ass, but not nearly as pretty as pig number one.

Benton, the frat president, took my arm and led me up to the table to

introduce me to the girls.

"This is Sally," he said, laying a familiar hand on the little blonde's

golden ass, and then he spun the table halfway around and brought that

big old ugly pig up in front of me. He patted the pig on the head. And

this is our special surprise pig, Bertha. You're gonna love her, just

like the first two boys did. In fact, I would say that she's even more

affectionate than Sally, if that's possible, when you approach her the

right way. And you, you lucky bastard you, are going to get throw a

screw into either one of these chubby little sweethearts, depending on

which one you pick.

I laughed and said, "Do I get a choice?"

That made everybody laugh.

Benton said, "Let me tell you how the game works, Mister B. Just to make

it fair and square and not to burden you with an impossible dilemma, and

so as not to hurt the feelings of either one of these sensitive young

lovelies, we leave the choice to fate. You will stand precisely where

you are now positioned, and we will blindfold your eyes. Then the table

will spin--thus-wise."

Someone gave the tabletop a nudge and it began revolving slowly,

shuddering and creaking as it turned, with its two lady female critters.

I tell you, that had to be one sturdy table to hold those two chubby

customers without collapsing.

"Now," Benton said, "you see the table comes gradually to a stop and you

are faced with prize pig number one in all her naked splendor. Being

blindfolded of course you will not know which of the two you have won.

So you will lean in, guided by strong and willing hands, and plant a

kiss on the blushing cheek of whichever one it is--pig one or pig two.

Then, blindfold removed, she will be yours to enjoy in wild rapturous

intercourse through any of her body apertures which strikes your fancy.

The choice is up to you. I assure you, both of these pigs are used to

taking it in every possible way from long practice."

Sally giggled and started fucking her mouth with her finger, but Bertha

didn't seem to be paying attention. I was pretty much in a state of

shock myself I couldn't believe this bit. Screwing a pig! I still

figured it was just a gag and nobody was really going to have to go

through with that.

But I had no choice but to play along and hope for the best. They were

already tying on the blindfold. I could only hope that the damn table

would stop turning when Sally was on my side. Just in case they really

were serious about the whole thing. I'd lived for twenty years without

ever screwing a barnyard animal and I was hoping I could leave it that

way.

Then I heard the table start creaking and squawking again and I knew it

was spinning around. The guys were laughing and yelling common and when

the table stopped turning eventually they all let out a big loud cheer.

Someone slapped me on the back and yelled, "Congratulations," but I

wasn't doing any cheering myself until found out what the hell I was

being congratulated for.

They took my arms and pulled me forward and Benton said, "Bend over now

and pucker up, Mister B. Prepare to bestow a big fat kiss upon the lucky

girl."

I leaned forward and tried to reach out to feel whatever was there, but

they wouldn't let me use my hands. No feelsies. Then my lips all of a

sudden came down on something warm and so and smooth and I was ready to

laugh right out loud. That had to be human female flesh my lips tasted.

I knew a girl's cheek when I kissed one and this was it!

But then they yanked off my blindfold with everybody in a big laughing

uproar and I found that my lips had told me a goddamn lie. I had just

kissed the ass, warm ass of a female pig. Yuck!

It wasn't till afterwards, when I watched all the other guys going

through the same business, that I realized the whole thing was a fix.

They made sure each time that the table stopped where they wanted it,

which was with the pig in kissing position.

But for the time being I was just cursing my lousy bad luck. I realized

right off that I was going to have to go through with the whole hairy

business to the bitter end. They weren't fooling after all. Sally hopped

down off the table and they set Bertha up with her ass-end out toward me

in a convenient pig-fucking position.

"Okay," Benton said, "strip right down, first thing. Otherwise you're

sure to get your clothes all spattered when the passion-juices start to

flow."

I took my clothes off, feeling like a damn fool, but what could I do?

This was obviously the test I had to pass to get into the damn frat.

Benton started working his fingers around the pig's rear end. "Notice

the selection of openings available, he said. Hole A--the more popular

entry--known as the cunt. I'm sure you'll find it warm and hospitable to

your precious tool. Or you may prefer hole B--known in polite company as

the shithole. Some prefer it for its more intimate caress."

He was running his finger in and out of each of the pig holes all he

time he was talking about them. The pig seemed to be used to it because

she was only grunting a little bit and not fidgeting around the way I

would have expected.

I was standing there bare-ass meanwhile wondering if I'd be able to make

it or not. My prick was as limp as a dishrag. I couldn't get excited

somehow over the idea of screwing a pig. But then all of a sudden five

hot little fingers slipped around me from behind and grabbed on--prick,

balls and all. It was Sally, bless her little heart, giving me a

friendly helping hand just when I needed it most.

"Relax, baby," she whispered in my ear. "I got my eye on you. I'll be

seeing you--later." And she brushed my back with the points of her

boobs. Wow! That did the trick all right. A couple of easy hand-strokes

up and down the old weenie and she had me as hard as a rock and ready to

fuck anything in sight.

"Stand clear!" Benton yelled out. "The rocket is on the launching pad!"

A couple of other guys had grabbed onto the pig to hold her tight where

she was and they'd also set up a chair for me to stand on, which would

bring me just about to the right height so that my erected prick would

be on a point-blank level with Bertha's broad ass.

"Up you go, man. Get her while she's hot!"

I climbed onto the seat and then stood there holding my prick, not quite

sure what I was supposed to do with it.

"Lean in, man," Benton said. "Lay your hands right out flat on her back

and brace yourself. You going in the cunt-way are you?"

I muttered uh-huh.

"Well, there it sits--right in your path. Try the opening with your

fingers if you want. Let her know you're coming in. She'll give you a

hearty welcome--don't worry about that, this pig is a confirmed

nymphomaniac."

I ran a finger up and down the line of her crack just to get the feel of

it. It wasn't so different from a human cunt at that. And it sure was

soft and slick and plenty big enough so that I didn't see any problem

about getting into her. So I figured I might as well get fucking and be

done with it.

The other guys and Sally were all rooting me chanting, "Go-go-go," and

so that's what I did. I moved forward on the chair laid my prick right

up head--first against that slimy slot, and pushed forward, hoping for

the best. Bertha let out a grunt and flinched a little bit.

"Hold that tiger," I said and laid my hands down on her back the way

they'd told me to do.

"Lean right in over her, man," Benton said. "Lay all your weight on her

the same way a male pig would do. Let her know she's covered."

I got as good a hand--hold as I could and braced myself to try shoving

forward again, but all of a sudden Bertha did the job for me. She

grunted and then backed up towards me and ZIP--my prick slipped right up

inside and I eased forward and let it slide up the chute as far as it

would go until my balls bumped and I knew I was all the way in her for

sure.

With my hands I could feel Bertha's back quivering, waiting for the

action to get under way. But I was just standing there, looking around

with an idiotic grin on my face. I guess I thought that's all there was

to it. Look, ma--I screwed into a pig! Gimme my prize.

But the crowd was egging me on to action. "Go-go-go!"

Benton waved his hand at me. "Get humping man. Don't keep Bertha

waiting. You're never gonna pop your nuts that way. Fuck, man--fuck!"

So I pulled back and drew my prick halfway out of her and then shoved it

back in, and went on riding in and out that way, awkwardly at first, but

I soon got into a good screwing groove.

Bertha's snatch sure surprised me. It was slick and greasy and easy as

hell to pump, but at the same time it was a good tight squeeze around my

prick--pretty fair fucking, all in all. I could see where a farm boy

could get awful fond of this kind of action, especially if he didn't

have anything else female around to do the job for him. If you can

imagine the greatest cunt you ever laid it into--some real experienced

old broad maybe, who had control over her pussy-innards and could grab

onto you sort of and milk you down with internal suction somehow, a

pig's twat will do that for you, I found out. I'd heard guys talk about

it back on the farm--pigs and heifers both--but you have to experience

it yourself to appreciate it.

The pig surprised hell out of me, the way she just stood there so quiet

and calm once I started really putting it to her. All she did was brace

herself by spreading her legs a little bit and crouching down, so that

made me crouch a little to stay with her. And each time I'd run in all

the way and bump her ass. She would let out a little burp of a grunt I

must have been hitting home up inside there.

All in all it was turning out to be a very pleasant, relaxing

intercourse experience for me, considering the circumstances. I was

surprising myself. I'd been afraid I'd screw up the deal and here I was

fucking up a storm like an old pig-stoker from way back.

Benton said, "I get the feeling this boy's been practicing. He ain't no

barnyard virgin."

Somebody else yelled out, "Him and Bertha must be old friends from back

home."

And Sally said, "If they weren't friends before, they sure are now."

The crowd was all counting off a cadence with every push forward I made

into that pig's pussy. "- fifteen--sixteen--seventeen -" It turned out

that they did this with everybody, to compare how many pumps it took

each pledge before he shot off his wad.

It didn't take me long to come. I didn't fight it and try to hold back.

I was remembering what Sally had whispered in my ear when she was

stroking me up to a boner, that she see me later. So I just wanted to

pop off as quick as I could inside this old sow's twat and not drain my

battery any more than necessary--save my best shots for Sally. Her human

cunt may not have given me a grab like Bertha's was doing, but a guy

would have a lot more interesting things to bump against and grab onto

while pumping up into that giggly little teeny--bopper.

Fucking a pig is a straight cock-sensation--better than a

plain-common-ordinary jack-off, but nowhere near the joys of pressing

belly to belly with a chubby chick like Sally.

So with my cock driving hard in and out of that suction pump pussy. I

just closed my eyes and forgot all that crowd of cackling jackasses

watching me and set my mind to erotic thoughts of the pleasures to come

with sweet little Sally. That did the trick in a hurry. I built up a

real quick head of steam in my gonads and bang--I had myself a nice

pleasant little orgasm.

Then I pulled my dripping pecker back out of Bertha's cunt and looked

around, smiling sheepishly. "Okay?" I said.

The guys gave me a hearty round of applause and Benton belted me on the

back and said, "A-plus, man! Welcome to the brotherhood. Come join the

crowd."

Sally came up with a wet towel to clean the slop off me. "Get dressed,

Tiger," she said, planting a quick kiss on my ear and dragging a lush

booby across my rib-cage. And as she wiped down my still-rigid cock she

whispered, "I hope you saved some of that marshmallow cream for me," and

she winked at me and flicked her tongue out of her mouth like

snake-fangs--sort of suggesting crazy action to come, her and me-wise.

It was quite a hassle getting my pants on after that because my prick

just wouldn't lie down and behave. I hobbled over to join the other guys

and settled down with them to watch the next victim come in and bang

Bertha, but my mind and my eyes were all on Sally. Man, I could hardly

wait to get my weenie into that sweet pussy.

The only trouble is, I'm still waiting. It never happened--that night or

ever. I began to get suspicious that I'd been diddled when I noticed

that Sally was giving all those other guys exact same jazz she'd given

me--whispering in the ear, prick fondling, booby-nudging. Shit, it was

all just part of the show.

Sally, it turned out, was Benton's own very private chick actually, and

outside of look-sees and feelsies like we'd already had, it was hands

off Sally's fair ass for all the other frat brothers.

Bertha the cuddly pig was the only ass of any kind got into that

night--but no complaint. By being a member of that fraternity, I soon

had all the pussy I could handle and then some. And no more pigs either,

human or otherwise. But at least I did get to fuck one real live pig in

my life, thanks to that crazy initiation. I always say a guy ought to

try everything under the sun at least once.

Chapter 7 "The Lady Goes Ape"

Man has always been intrigued with the idea of creating strange and

wondrous offspring--half-human and half-beast from bestial unions--and

the effort to do so has been a strong motivation in prompting men to try

"marriage" with all sorts of animals in the vain hope of coming up with

an exotic hybrid. Needless to say it has never been known to work,

according to cool-headed scientific spokesmen, such unions they tell us

are invariably sterile.

But for thousands of years men refused to believe it and went on trying

to give birth to living, breathing mermaids, satyrs, centaurs, wolf-men

and similar monstrosities of nature. Despite the disbelief of modern

scientific scoffers according to mythical and early "historical"

records, many times they succeeded!

Several ancient Kings and Emperors claimed to be descendants of bears,

wolves and other varieties of beast. In past centuries reputable

historians have reported great numbers of "authentic" cases of women

giving birth to snakes, rats, dogs, pigs, and in one case even a lion.

Saint Jerome swore that he had personally had seen children half-ape and

half-human, products of bestial intercourse.

The possibility of a man and ape union proving fruitful seems not

impossible on the face of it. Apes certainly are very man-like creatures

(or vice versa). Why should there not be a child resulting when a man

pumps his seed into an ape? After all, doesn't Darwin tell us that we

all descend from a common ancestor?

As recently as the early twentieth century in Europe scientists actually

were doing experiments trying to mate a man with an ape

fruitfully--using artificial insemination methods rather than actual

intercourse. Unfortunately for sensation-lovers however, no ape-man or

monkey-woman resulted.

But whether in hope of offspring or not, apes would seem to ideal

partners for the man inclined to dabble in bestial sex. because of their

human like proportions and sexual equipment.

And despite the obvious perils of close grappling with large apes, which

generally are ill-tempered animal of dangerous strength, they have been

highly popular love-partners for both men and women throughout history

in many parts of the world. Egyptian women commonly made use of baboons

for their pleasure, as previously noted. And in fact the baboon seems to

have been a favorite sex-partner for sporty ladies all over the Middle

East.

Apes of all kinds for their part apparently enjoy "making it" with their

human cousins. Without having read Darwin, they seem to recognize the

kinship. Mandrills and gorillas are reported to be especially

susceptible to human charms.

In the Roman arena the unloosed apes needed no goading to commit rapes

on bound human victims--usually young female slaves. Chimpanzees,

mandrills and baboons all took part in these assaults. Sometimes the

victims were made more alluring to the apes by swabbing their cunt

regions with female monkey piss--a powerful aphrodisiac to the rampaging

male monkey.

Not many men or women in the civilized world today have the opportunity

to sport lewdly with monkeys. Probably few men feel any strong desire

sleep with a female ape even in their wildest fantasies. But women, who

are more likely to be turned on by brute strength and rampant hairiness

in a sex-partner, often have dreams of being carried off and raped by

King Kong-like creatures. Probably many of them in their waking hours

have wondered idly how it might be, actually getting screwed by an ape.

Valerie, the "star" of the following case report, had such dreams, but

unlike most girls, she turned her dream-life with monkeys into a

real-life career.

For several years Valerie traveled with a small carnival and circus,

taking care of the menagerie among other jobs. Now in her mid-thirties,

she has written a book of reminiscences about her life amid the circus

animals, but because of the "sensational" nature of some of her

confessions and revelations, she has never submitted the book to a

publisher.

"Some day I will maybe," she says, "after certain people have died off

and when I get old enough so that I just don't give a crap any more. A

lot of people including my husband would have shit hemorrhages if I put

this thing into print now. He thinks I ought to set a match to it."

She gave me permission however to use excerpts from three chapters,

dealing with her life in the menagerie. I offer these extraordinarily

frank selections here just as she wrote them.

Case 7: Valerie Y.

I worked in the girlie show for a only couple of months, even though I

was doing fine. I had a hell of a build for a girl not quite

eighteen--especially in the tit department. Brosz was letting me do the

wind-up almost every show, which pissed off the other girls no end.

That's where the marks shell out a couple of bucks extra at the end of

the regular performance for the privilege of seeing one of the girls

flash her pussy. The new girls didn't usually get a crack at that.

Naturally the other bitches all figured I must be going down Brosz,

working him for favors, but they had it figured wrong for I wasn't going

down on him--he was going down on me. Ha ha.

But they all had it in for me anyway for that and general jealousy

reasons, and the next town we played they spread the word that I was

underage and the law came around and put the heat on Mister Bennington

(the circus owner) about me.

He got the shakes over it and told Brosz to can me and quick. But Brosz

persuaded him to let me stay on and help out around the menagerie. They

were always hiring boys to work there with the animals but the kids

would always fuck off and it was hard to get good help. Brosz told

Mister Bennington that I was real good with animals, which was just a

shot in the dark on his part, but Bennington said okay, he'd give me a

try.

So that was the end of my professional bare-ass dance career forever and

the beginning of my new life among the monkeys.

* * *

Brosz was still trying to get me to move back in with him but I didn't

need that fat immigrant any more. I had a nice cozy bunk-bed set up in

the front end of the monkey wagon and it suited me just fine.

I was getting very attached to the monkeys by that time and I liked

being with them. They were my favorites of all the animals right from

the start. Camels I could do without. Elephants I don't relate to. Lions

are majestic to look at but not easy to get to know. Monkeys though have

personalities, just as much as humans--every one of them is a separate

person to me.

So when one of the little Borneo monkeys took sick, I felt like it was

my own child and I nursed him with tender loving care. He actually only

had like a head cold, but that can be rough on a monkey. They're very

susceptible to pneumonia in our climate.

So, when we had a spell of nippy nights, I took the little rascal into

my bed with me and let him sleep with me.

"I hope you appreciate this," I said to him. "It's not every monkey that

get to sleep in my bed on such short acquaintance."

That's all it was, I swear. Keeping the monkey warm and keeping my eye

on him until he passed the crisis. And maybe that's all it would ever

have been. A couple of days and he'd be back in his cage again, good as

new.

But the word got around that "Valerie is sleeping with a monkey now,"

and that started the kidding. All I heard all day was. "I hear you're

monkeying around at night," "How is that little bastard in bed, anyway?"

"How about me, Val? I guarantee I can give you more than any monkey,"

and "I hope you're taking your pill every night before you make it with

that monkey."

Well I just laughed everything off and gave it right back to them. I

told them he was a fantastic cocks-man and he was going to take me back

to Borneo with him to meet his parents. Shit like that. All for laughs.

But even when I was laughing I was beginning to put some thought to it.

How about this? Could a monkey and a girl make it like that or not?

Wheels started t turning over in my dirty little mind. Mind you, I'd

never heard of people

and animals making it sex-wise. It wasn't that anybody had ever told me

it was nasty and sinful and illegal besides to fuck with a monkey. The

thing was, nobody had ever mentioned to me that such a thing existed in

the world, or that it was even possible.

So when I started turning it over it my head at least I had no

preconceptions, or prejudices to steer me. I just decided when that

monkey got over his fever I was going to try a little scientific

experiment in animal sexology to find out if I could work a diddle on

his little pecker and give him a hard-on. That was the full extent of my

original intentions. No more than that. I thought it might make him feel

good and sort of cement our friendship together.

So that's how it started with this little monkey at first. I laid him

out his back and patted his belly for a while. I'd done that before to

him and he'd liked it. It used to put him to sleep in fact. But this

time I began patting lower down and playing my fingers up and down the

hollow of his crotch. I was no expert on what monkeys like have done to

them, but I sure knew how to go about setting a man's nerves on edge and

I was curious to see if a monkey would react the same way.

It didn't take long to find out. The little rascal started making

squealy noises right away and twitching around, and I nearly flipped

when his prick started to swell up even before I laid a hand on it. It

made me laugh to think that little monkeys like him must be just as

horny as men.

I started tickling his prick then, running the finger up and down it,

and he started grabbing at my arm--trying to tell me something--but I

didn't know what whether it was stop or go or faster please or what.

That's really all it amounted to though that first time. I didn't even

jerk him off all the way. Maybe I should have and been done with it

because I sure had stirred him up with my cock tickling. When I quit he

started thrashing around and grabbing onto me and he kept trying get

close to me and rub his prick up against me. He still had a hard-on for

the longest time afterwards. And he probably had a damn knot in his

balls that was killing him, but I didn't think of that, I was laughing

like hell at him, and poking and tickling his ribs, and all of a sudden

POW! he pops his nuts all over me. Splat! Splat! Splat! All over me and

the blanket.

Then I got mad as hell, although I don't know what I had expected. I'd

been acting like a cock-teaser and he'd given me what I deserved. But I

didn't think of it that way. I kicked him the hell out of bed and put

him back in his cage. That was the end of it. I'd had my fun with him

and he'd ended up being a bad boy.

But it wasn't the end for him. He wouldn't settle down. He kept up a

jabbering and squealing and kept racing around his cage for an hour or

more.

Finally I had to go get him again and bring him back to bed with me. He

was keeping me and all the other monkeys awake with his squalling.

I let him snuggle up to me and he grabbed on tight and pressed his prick

against my hip and in no time at all he was sound asleep. Then I went to

sleep too, but I dreamed I was chasing after this huge monkey--not an

ape, just an oversized monkey--and I finally caught up with him in the

middle of the freeway and I kissed him all over and then I pulled him

down on top of me and we made mad love together while the traffic zipped

by all around us.

And then all of a sudden I woke up with a jolt and that dirty little

monkey bastard had shot off another load all over me. He must have been

having the same dream I was, only his turned out to be a wet one.

Well I couldn't put up with that crap any more, much as I loved the

little so-and-so. Something had to be done.

The next day I put him back in the cage with all the other monkeys and

kept my eye on him awhile and before long he started out after a certain

female monkey--showing off for her, jumping all around and swinging on

the trapeze--and then he began chasing her around the cage and I could

see already he had a hard-on again. I was glad to know he could get it

up for other monkeys and not just for me. So now maybe I could get a

peaceful night's sleep for myself again.

I put, my little friend and his new lady love in a cage by themselves

and after awhile sure enough, he got into wrestling around with her and

the next thing I knew one thing led to another and there he was ramming

it into her-ass-end to.

"My God!" I thought. "Do monkeys do it up the ass ?"

But then I saw that he was into her little snatch after all. Monkeys

just prefer it the back way around. I never did see any monkeys do it

face to face on their own initiative. But even though they always do it

from behind, they won't ever go up each other's ass unless they've been

taught that way by perverted humans.

I watched those two little bastards screwing and I began to get jealous.

Not that I couldn't get all the human humping I could handle around that

sexy sideshow bunch. But there was something lacking in all the guys I'd

known. There never had been one that really turned me on.

I got to thinking of my dream the night before--how wild and woolly it

had been, pumping off with that big monkey. And watching this little

fellow pounding it into his mate, I couldn't help wishing he was about

three or four times his size so he could do the same for me.

Well brother, that set off a new set of wheels spinning around in my

dirty little old mind. It just happened that we had apes in all shapes

and sizes in that menagerie, and maybe I could get one of the

bigger--closer to my five-foot-six proportions--and do a little of the

same kind of seduction work on him that had had such spectacular results

with the little squirt from Borneo.

There was a gorilla named Ghengis who came immediately to mind, but I

wasn't quite ready for him or he for me. Gorillas are not the ferocious

monsters people think they are--they don't even eat meat. But they're

strong enough mash you into hamburger in the middle of a loving embrace

and I didn't need that, thanks.

Finally I decided to try my womanly wiles on the orangutan. He always

been gentle and friendly when, I'd gone into his cage, and he was a

perfect size to be my partner in a dance or any other similar joint

venture between us that might rise out of a developing friendship.

For the next couple of days I only thought about it--getting my courage

up, I guess. I wasn't sure yet just how far I wanted to go with Wimpy. I

wanted to try erecting his pecker the way I did the little fellers and

see what kind of ideas it would put in his monkey-head. But I was afraid

I wasn't going to get away with cock teasing this big old boy. Turn him

on and then yell "cool it" might put me in big trouble. I gave it a

couple of days of deep thought to be sure I wanted to carry through on

it to the bitter end and let my pussy take the consequences.

It flipped me to think of having those long woolly arms of his wrapped

all around me and that broad hairy chest scratching my tender hide. I

had always liked broad-beamed, hairy men. (That was the only thing I

liked about Brosz in fact--his wide, woolly chest.) So I made up my mind

I'd give it a shot. What the hell did I have to lose? If the big ape

went berserk--well, you gotta die sometime and if the worst happened and

I got fucked to death, at least I'd be sure to get my name in every

paper in the country. What a way to go!

Now that I'd made up my mind, the when and where of it was a little

ticklish. It would have to be in his cage, I decided finally. Bringing

him outside and taking him into my bed like did the monkey would have

been a bit much. Especially since I had no idea how he was going to

react when I started to push his 'ON' button.

And late at night was the only possible time. Friday would be best for a

first try. Rizzo the elephant trainer would be staying overnight in town

and there would likely be nobody else poking his nose around the cages

at two or three in the morning.

Friday I got myself ready. I didn't bother taking a bath that night. I

figured the more I smelled like a female animal the better my chances of

ringing Wimpy's chimes. About two or so got myself ready to go. I

stripped down to the buff and then put on an old coat for cover just in

case I ran into somebody on the way to the other wagon. Not likely, but

there could be one of the boys coming through on a shortcut back from

town.

But I didn't see a living soul, and climbed into the wagon, unlocked the

gate of Wimpy's cage, and slipped inside nervous and excited as hell. I

felt like a virgin bride on the way to the slaughter.

I heard him sniff and stir as soon as I closed the gate. Then I just

stood where I was and called softly to him, "Wimpy--Wimpy!"

I could hear him shuffling around and then he came lumbering over to me

in the dim light. I began talking to him as I always did and held out my

hand to him. He sniffed around a bit till he found out I hadn't brought

any food along to him and then he sort of lost interest and went back to

lie down.

It looked as if I would have to get more aggressive to break through to

him on the sexual level. All I had ever represented to him until then

was a human creature who brought him food from time to time. I had to

make him realize that ape does not live by bread alone. What you need is

love, love, love, baby.

So the first thing I did was slip out of the robe and I draped it over

the bars. It gave me a little shiver of excitement to be completely

naked in an animal's cage this way. As if I was an animal myself caged

and on display. That thought made me all the more eager to start acting

the part. If only I could get a little cooperation from sleepy old

Wimpy.

I wondered if he'd show any special interest in me naked, something that

he hadn't experienced before. I called to him again. "Wimpy. Come on,

Wimpy. Come sniff mama's pussy."

I thought that might be what a female ape would say in the circumstances

if she could only talk. I started towards Wimpy across the dark cage and

I could hear him getting up again and sniffing the air. I hoped I was

sending out sexy smells on the night breeze. I began to shiver again as

I came near him, a little frightened, but impatient to feel his rough,

hairy hide pressing up against me.

Then I could see his shadowy form standing just ahead of me, and I said

his name one more time and then moved in to touch him and let him touch

me.

He made a peculiar whining sound as I laid my hand on his long arm, and

the I reached in and began rubbing his hairy ribs and wrinkly chest. I

could feel him shiver, and then he settled down into a squat at my feet.

I got down with him and moved up close alongside. Now we were really

getting cozy. God knows what kind of monkey-crud my bare ass was sitting

in, but I didn't give a crap at that point.

I picked up one of his arms and draped it over my shoulder, hoping that

would give him some ideas. But he was being pretty indifferent so far. I

decided I'd better quit beating around the bush and get to the

point--the point being his monkey prick. The subtle approach wasn't

working so far.

So I leaned in against him, rubbing my boob on his arm, and started

finger walking down his belly the same way I had done with the little

monkey, heading for the royal scepter. I was real nervous at that point.

I figured that once I hit on his family jewels and started screwing

around there, it would be for keeps from then on--no backing off. There

was still time right then to call quits, grab my coat, and get the hell

out of there.

Before I could think too much about it and scare myself right out of the

whole deal, I took a big deep breath, reached down and just grabbed.

Right onto his big black prick. I was surprised to find it already

halfway hard and hot as a cooked weenie. I'd been doing better with my

warm-up than I'd figured.

But the minute I touched it he pulled away from me and hopped up to his

feet. He was squealing a blue streak now. He was excited all right, but

no telling yet what it was going to lead to. He might be working up to a

fighting mood instead of loving, for all I knew.

I stood up too and reached out again to take his arm, but all of a

sudden he came back toward me on his own and started pawing all over the

front of me with big clumsy rough swipes. The palms of his hands were

like dried-up leather raking over me but I loved the feeling of it

against my hungry hide. When he brushed over my boobs the shivers ran

all through me everywhere and made me weak in the knees. I only hoped I

could hit his magic nerve centers the way he was reaching mine without

half trying.

I stepped in closer to him and pressed myself up tight against him and

then he did what I been hoping--he wrapped his arms all the way around

me in a huge embrace and just about squeezed the breath out of me. Now I

was in the dream condition I'd been having fantasy orgasms

about--surrounded by hot hairy monkey on all sides.

He was whimpering now. Surprisingly he sounded exactly like the little

monkey when he was in my bed, all riled up and raring to go. And Wimpy

was ready--I could tell plain enough. His prick was up and

rigid--pressing hard against my thigh.

I forced my hand down between us and took hold of that big thrusting

tool. It seemed to be steaming with inner heat. I imagined it was

burning my fingers through to the bone. But I clutched it tight and

ground my belly against it and squashed my inflamed boobs against the

rough hair-mattress of his chest.

His hands were rubbing and grabbing at my back now--all up and down--and

then pulling at the soft, loose flesh of my ass. I was beyond all

caution and restraint by that time. I was already close to

orgasm--trembling all over--almost wanting him to crush me to a

pulp--tear me apart--pound me silly with his impaling prick.

But I'd have to steer him into doing for me what I craved. This was a

brand-new experience for poor dull-witted Wimpy. He wasn't used to being

accosted by brazen bare-ass females in this manner. Lady orangutans had

more decency and sense of propriety. What does a poor respectable monkey

do when a sex-mad slut comes up to him and grabs hold of his intimate

parts? Naturally he was a bit confused. Maybe he was afraid I was going

to ask him for money.

I tried to maneuver him into a position that I could slip his prick up

into me and give him right idea of the game I had in mind by setting the

example. I had sense enough not to pull him down on top of me--that

would have squash me flat. What I intended, if possible, was to get him

down on his back so I could sit on his prick and ride him that way.

I don't know what it would have looked like to anybody watching us right

then, standing there embracing--like we were doing a slow rumba together

or something--holding on to each other and twitching our asses.

Finally I managed to get him to lie down with me, reclining sort of

side-by-side and then I threw one leg up over his ass and nudged my

crotch in as close to him as I could get and tried to work his prick up

into position. I never worked so hard at anything in my life. He just

couldn't seem to get the idea of what I had in mind. But I wasn't

discouraged. I'd been in the sack before with human boys that were

almost this dumb.

He obviously enjoyed having me grab his prick, and I gave it plenty of

tugging and tickling to be sure he didn't go soft on me but there was no

sign of that happening. If I only could get it inside me just an inch he

might catch on, I figured, but every time I got his prick poking at the

gates and just about to slip up inside, the son of a gun would pull

back.

One funny thing--he'd discovered my boobs, which are quite a bit better

than average-sized, and way beyond anything you'd ever find on a female

monkey. He was squeezing them in his fingers and batting them back and

forth, one tit against each other, like they were punching bags. But not

real rough--just playfully--and it was a wild sensation. I always had

liked to have men play with my boobs when they make it with me. It's the

quickest way to get me hot, next to going right straight to cunt city. I

was never much for all that slobbery kissing on the mouth that some guys

like so much. I'd always tell them, "Kiss my boobs if you want something

to kiss." Nipple-sucking will turn me on in a second. I was wishing then

that old liver-lips Wimpy would give my boobs a lick with that big juicy

mouth of his. But that could wait for a later session. First he'd have

to learn to fuck--then suck.

All of a sudden without warning he shifted his ass and thrust his hips

forward and bent his legs back, it seemed like. And there was his

beautiful ramrod pecker laid out right for me in the open air--free and

clear. No more legs blocking my way to the weenie.

"Don't move--don't move," I whispered, holding my breath. I wiggled my

butt inward and lifted up my leg and ever slowly and carefully lowered

my spread cunt down onto his out-thrust prick.

I was pretty well juiced up by then in the pussy regions, just from the

excitement of the anticipation, so once I got his big blunt pecker head

down into the groove, it slipped up inside without too much hassle. He

was bigger than any man I'd ever had in me but I never had had any

trouble taking in whatever was offered to me, by any guy. I always liked

to feel myself well-filled, I'm not ashamed to say. I like to know there

a prick in me, by God. If I'm going to fuck I want to feel fucked--right

up to the hilt.

So that first time Wimpy went up inside me I was having little orgasms

every inch of the way. He wasn't helping a bit so far, just lying there

blowing his hot, wet monkey breath in my face and holding loosely to one

of my dangling boobs. But he didn't pull away from me, thank goodness.

He held is prick right out for me free for the taking and let me do

whatever I wanted with it. I grunted and wiggled my ass and hunched my

hips and I could feel that fat black pickle of his beginning to make it

up into me a little bit at a time--tickle, tickle, tickle, all the way.

Then when it seemed as if it was stuffed clear up to my liver, I reached

down and went to work on his dangling balls, rolling them in my hand and

squeezing them together the same way he'd been squeezing my tit.

"Okay, man, let's pump." I said to him.

And with that I began to rock my hips up and down over his cock, easing

it in and out of me an inch or two either way. Just slow and easy at

first to give him the idea and also to get it riding smooth and slick

inside my cunt. Being jammed in there as tight as it was, it took a

little bit of easy practice action to get it sliding properly before we

started any hard pumping. I wanted this screw to last a while, man.

Start slow and build and build and build. What the hell--we had all

night ahead of us. Neither of us was going anywhere.

As soon as I felt his prick moving slick and smooth in the groove I

started to hump with more vigor, hoping he'd pick up the rhythm from me

and join the dance. Sooner or later this had to give him some kind of an

idea of what we were working towards.

And yes, indeed. All of a sudden he quit blowing his breath on me and

quit pulling on my boob, and I could feel a little shudder down where

his belly was rubbing mine. Then WHAM! He squeezed my tit in his fist

and gave it a yank like he was going to pull it clear off. I let out a

shriek and belted him on the arm, and thank God he let go then and

started to move his hips against me. In another second his prick began

riding in and out like a pile driver. He'd figured out the game we were

playing all of a sudden and man--did he pick up on it fast! Pow pow

pow--he hammered that prick up me--his belly punching against mine like

a medicine ball--boom boom boom.

From that point on he just took over management of the whole operation

himself. I didn't have to do a thing but hang on tight and ride with

him. I let go his testicles--which began slamming like tennis balls up

under my ass--and just grabbed onto his huge hairy hide and took off in

orbit. My whole body was rocking and shivering as if I was riding a

bucking horse. He played rough, once you turned on his switches. Wham!

wham! Pow! Pow! His prick pounding my guts--his balls beating my

ass--his belly bumping the breath out of me--my boobs wallowing all over

my chest--my head bobbing around like it was on a spring--my hair flying

in all directions. Ee-yow! Man or monkey, this was the fuck of a

thousand fantastic dreams--the fuck you never expect to experience

outside your erotic fantasies. I had always enjoyed a good rough ride,

but this was the absolute end.

His prick was going up and down my chute a mile-a-minute and reaching up

into my pussy to places I wouldn't have thought possible. I didn't even

count the orgasms. They just kept popping all up through my guts and

shot through me in every direction until my whole body was just one big

orgasm--arms, legs, everywhere--just EXPLODING! Even my head. I had this

crazy bombed-out drunk feeling in my head that I'd never felt before in

a fuck. Like I was freaked-out on some kind of goof balls.

But the goof ball was his prick in this case--driving me out of my

cotton-picking mind.

Then all of a sudden he grabbed onto me hard and slammed me up against

him. I thought it was the end of me. It felt like he was crushing my

ribs--collapsing my chest--I couldn't breathe--my face was buried in a

muzzle of hair. And there I was, suffocating--but exploding inside with

a million crazy orgasms all at the same time. Heaven and hell

simultaneously.

That's when Wimpy shot his load. I could feel him shooting off inside

me, like spurts of white-hot lava scalding my guts. And still he held me

and held me until I was just on the verge of passing out altogether.

But then at last it was all over. The prick pounding stopped and he

slowly relaxed his grip and let me breathe again. I was drenched in

sweat from head toe--mine and his combined--and I didn't have an ounce

of strength left in me. I just lay there panting against him, clinging

tightly, completely satisfied for the first time in my young life. And

also madly in love for the first time in my life.

All I wanted to do was just lie on his woolly breast forever. At least I

hoped that he let me stay there for a little while, all wrapped up in

his rough warmth. but I didn't expect any favors. I knew how tired men

get right after the orgasm, and I figured monkeys probably were no

different.

But he didn't seem any more inclined to move than was. He must have got

a pretty good charge out of the action himself After all, it was a brand

new first-time thing for him too. He went back to plucking at my boob

and nudging it back and forth and that was okay with me. I could see

that we had got off on the right foot of what was going to be a long and

beautiful friendship.

After awhile his cock dwindled inside me. I could feel it happen, and a

cold draft of air suddenly hit up into me. Then he pulled out of me

altogether and a great big flood of his come-juice came rolling out of

my cunt and dribbled down over my leg and ass.

I laughed and said to him, "You lying rascal I thought you said you used

a rubber."

He squeezed my boob to let me know what he thought of that shitty joke.

A little later I began to feel the urge coming on me again for another

go-around, and I reached for his prick and started in on it with a lot

of pulling and squeezing, but I guess he had enough for the night. He

let out a snort and jerked away from me, and I went off his lap and

down--CLUNK--onto the cold hard floor of the cage. Wimpy went lumbering

off, shaking his ass at me, letting me know the party was over. See you

around, baby.

I could take a hint. Anyway, that was action enough for the first night

for both of us. He was right. No sense rushing things. Tomorrow we'd

tackle lesson two of the course, although I wasn't too sure from here on

whether it would be me teaching him or him teaching me. Now that he'd

got the hang of things, I had a hunch it was going to be Wimpy's ball

game the rest of the way.

NOTE: Valerie carried on her affair with Wimpy for several months after

that. She cut herself off from the circus men entirely and once they all

realized for sure that she had apparently gone celibate on them, they

quit bothering her and left her to her animal friends.

The only member of the circus who found out about her secret love affair

with Wimpy was a young man named Pete, who had been working as an

attendant and ticket-taker on the merry-go-round. One night, being

drunker than he was allowed to be and looking for a place to hide out

overnight, Pete sneaked into the number two monkey wagon and crawled

under an empty cage. There, a little while later, he was a flabbergasted

witness as the aloof Miss Valerie staged one of her flamboyant

monkey-fuck performances, never intended for the eyes of an audience.

Valerie tells about it in a later chapter in her manuscript.

* * *

It just happened that night that I was in a wilder mood than usual and I

was really laying it on. Wimpy and I had been screwing each other's

asses off for quite along time then, and we had got so we made an

elaborate game out of it. On that night I was down on all

fours--bare-ass naked of course--scrambling around the goddamn cage with

my ass in the air, yapping and squealing like a female

monkey--scratching my ribs--flipping my boobs. Pete must have thought I

was stark raving loony.

Wimpy chased after me for a while, never quite catching up. That was all

part of our game. Then I jumped up and grabbed onto the bars and climbed

up about eight feet high on the side of the cage, out of his reach. So

there he was down below reaching out for me, grabbing at my ankles,

chattering away, and there I was up there hanging on the bars, kicking

down at him, spitting, calling him a big hairy mother-fucker and every

other name. Of all nights for somebody to be spying on us. I could have

killed that sneaky bastard.

It ended with me jumping down and landing right on top of old Wimpy and

he caught me like he always did and we went down onto the floor

together. Then I rolled over away from him and got up my hands and knees

with my ass in his face, and making monkey noises again. This was going

to be a plain old-fashioned monkey-fuck in from the rear end, under the

ass and up the snatch. I gave Wimpy a good spread aim at and wiggled my

ass at him and he slipped up behind me and eased into position. Man,

this was his kind of fucking.

He slipped his prick up inside with no trouble at all, we had our parts

pretty well tooled to a fine fit by then. I'd developed a perfect

monkey-cunt, just for him. So there he was, whanging away against my ass

and me bending the knees and bumping backwards to help the action. As

usual his long arms came around under me to play squeeze-ball with my

boobs.

Pete said later that be thought he must be asleep in a drunk dream. I

mean, who would believe a sight like this--drunk or sober?

We pounded away to our usual A-bomb orgasm and then we wrestled around

with each other, making more monkey noises, and all through the nutty

scene that kid Pete wouldn't pop out and show himself. He let me go on

making jackass of myself and then finally when Iwas climbing down out of

the damn cage, all smeared up with crud and straw and dripping sweat,

looking like a bedraggled sewer-rat, he sticks his head out and says me,

"Good show, Miss Valerie I didn't know you had it in you." And he gave

me a couple of tired handclaps along with it.

I let out a whoop and almost dropped right on the spot from

heart-failure. But then I saw who it was and I started to give him hell.

The cocky young shit--I'd slept with him once or twice when he first

joined the show. That was when I was still sleeping around--long before

I took up with the monkeys. I used to try out all the new boys that came

and went, the same as the other girls did. I remembered this one well.

He was a common variety--big mouth and small cock.

But then under the circumstances I figured I'd better play it cool with

him. I wasn't too anxious naturally to have the word get around the lot

about me and Wimpy's mad passion. I invited Pete to come on inside with

me and have a drink and help me shower down.

Then over a drink, under the shower, and finally under the sheets

together, we made a little deal. Tomorrow I'd speak to his boss and

arrange a transfer to the menagerie for him. From now on he would work

for me--helping out around the monkey house.

And it wasn't such a big deal for me, I could use the help, and from

then on I had somebody to stand watch for me when I was doing my thing

with Wimpy, Pete wasn't such a bad kid anyway. It certainly was no sweat

keeping him happy. He was a pretty feeble fuck compared to that wild

monkey. I could drain Pete dry in five minutes anytime without half

trying and have plenty of juice left for Wimpy whenever he was ready to

ball.

He loved watching Wimpy and me do our stuff and I didn't mind that. What

the hell--I'd performed in the buff for audiences enough times before

when I was in the girlie show--stuffing myself with dildos and every

other damn thing. So there was no problem for me of self-consciousness

or embarrassment. And it was a big kick for Pete. Sometimes I think he

got more of a charge out of watching me screw the monkey than he did out

of banging me himself.

One day when I wasn't on the scene, unfortunately, some woman got into a

big hassle with Wimpy. She claimed she was standing outside his cage

minding her own business when he reached through the bars and grabbed

hold of her, tore her dress down the back, and then reached and "roughly

handled her right breast, inflicting major bruises and abrasions and

causing her to suffer extreme terror and severe embarrassment."

She informed Mister Bennington that she was suing the circus for some

idiotic amount of money--way up in the hundred thousand dollar range.

Old tremble-chin Bennington flew into his usual tizzy and told me in no

uncertain terms that Wimpy was a menace and he was getting rid of him.

Having him destroyed!

I nearly had a breakdown. Destroy Wimpy. They'd be destroying me too if

they did. But what could I do? I was at my wits end.

But then good old Pete came to the rescue. I hadn't even seen the dame

who made the complaint, but Pete told me, "You know who she is. You've

noticed her around here plenty. Remember last week--I pointed her out to

you? The fat cunt with the floppy hat."

Oh, did I ever remember! And all of a sudden the worries just melted

away. We had this dame by the balls, so speak.

The thing is, there's a certain type of woman that's attracted to

monkeys, and they spend half their time hanging around zoos and

menageries like ours. Any place with monkeys can tell you they see this

type of woman every day. Women like that know that male monkeys can get

horny over human females and with them, like me, it's vice versa. They

don't have my opportunities though to actually do something constructive

but their urges, so they just hang around the monkey cages half the day,

hoping to see a monkey pissing or playing with himself or just showing

off a hard-on.

So this cunt who was suing us was one of those. Pete had spotted her one

day poking a stick into Wimpy's cage, trying to jab his crotch while he

was sleeping. That's when he pointed her out to me and we had a security

cop take her for a walk.

Now we had Pete, the cop, and me to testify against that bitch and her

monkey teasing habits, and sure enough--all of a sudden the case

collapsed without ever going to court. And there was no more talk from

Bennington about liquidating my sweet little old furry-ass common

spouse.

FINAL NOTE: After that, Valerie carried on her passionate affair with

Wimpy the orangutan for more than a year, until one night the lovable

ape suddenly took a fit and died in her arms during one of their

frenzied sex-sessions. He apparently had suffered a heart seizure.

Valerie reports that she was inconsolable for weeks afterward. She fled

from the circus and gave herself up to a series of violent love affairs

with a great many men, none of which satisfied her, physically or

emotionally.

At last she returned to the circus and her beloved monkeys, and

eventually she married and seems to have achieved a fairly happy human

relationship with her present husband.

Although she admits having cheated on him occasionally with other men,

she swears that she has always remained absolutely true the memory of

her beloved Wimpy, and despite frequent bestial temptations, has never

again consorted sexually with any other monkey.

The End