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

of 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 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 were the big thing. First thing they'd mention to you.
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 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." 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 /> 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 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
/>
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."

I assumed she was kidding. "What do you suggest–a nice
friendly />
"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
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
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 />
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 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.

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 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, 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 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?"

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 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."

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 />
"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 />
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 />
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.

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 />
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 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
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. 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 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
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 />
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
and 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 />
"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, 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
/>
Bessie said, "The old Romans used to screw with bulls, didn't they? I
heard that />
"You don't have to go that far," I told her. "There are still women
doing it today, believe it or not. 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 />
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 />
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."

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 />
"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
/>
"Why not?" she said. "The boys always used to tell me when I was nine,
'When you're big enough, you're old />
"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 />
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 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, />
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.
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, />
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. 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. 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 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 />
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 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
the grand tour of hippie colonies and crash-pads from
coast to coast. She was presently reported to be living as a /> 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 />
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
/>
"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 /> cameras covering the whole scene long shot and 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 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, 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 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.

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 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, />
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 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
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 />
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 />
Man, did she put on a performance! She'd rear back and give us a little
pussy-split–a little ass-bounce–a little 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 />
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 />
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, 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 worry about that, this pig is a confirmed
/>
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, 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. />
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. "- -" 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 than a
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 and half-beast from bestial unions–and
the effort to do so has been a strong motivation in prompting men to try
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 /> 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 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 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 /> 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
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 />
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, />
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 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
/>
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 manu.

* * *

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 around the goddamn cage with
my ass in the air, yapping and squealing like a female
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 /> 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 />
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

story by: Anonyinrc

Tags: fantasy sex story

Author: Anonyinrc

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