First things first. I did not right or have anything to do with the following story. I recently found a large quantity of some very high quality and original writings. proper credit is hereby given to the actual author of this and more stories that will follow.
Beast Humping by Ron Bywood
Index
Chapter One "Spectator Sport"
Chapter Two "Dog Eat Dog"
Chapter Three "Passion In The Pasture"
Chapter Four "A Bird In The Bird" **
Chapter Five "Freaky Fuckers"
Chapter Six "Take That, You Swine"
Chapter Seven "The Lady Goes Ape"
** This chapter deleted from this copy.
Contained slaughter of birds and murder.
Introduction
"Bestiality--violation of animals--monstrous and revolting to mankind."
Krafft-Ebing used these words to introduce the subject of sex between
humans and animals in his monumental nineteenth century study of
perverse sexuality, Psychopathia Sexualis. The public attitude toward
many deviant sex practices has eased since those harsh Victorian times
but the very idea of bestiality seems as "monstrous and revolting" as
ever to most people today.
The Old Testament, source of most of our basic behavioral taboos, is
clear on the subject. In Leviticus 18:23, the Lord lays down the law to
Moses, Neither shalt thou lie with any beast to defile thyself
therewith; neither shall any woman stand before a beast to lie down
thereto; it is confusion.
The Bible not only forbade bestiality but also prescribed stern
penalties both for the human and the animal participants, each
apparently being presumed equally guilty in the affair. Thus Leviticus
tells us, If a man lie with a beast, he shall surely be put to death:
and he shall slay the beast.
In the Middle Ages in Europe surviving court records show that the
Biblical penalties were carried out to the letter. In France one man was
hanged and then burned for fornicating with a cow and a goat, and then
both animals were also burned. Two centuries later, a sixteen-year old
girl was found guilty of having had sexual relations with a dog, and
both dog and girl were hanged and burned.
Most states today have no law on their books specifically forbidding
bestiality, but it is usually considered to fall under the category of
sodomy offenses, which include everything from sucking a twat to
screwing a turkey--from buggering your wife's rectum to fucking a corpse
on a morgue slab--from jerking off in company with a friend to having
your cunt licked by a cocker spaniel. It's all sodomy in the eyes of the
law, although the sodomy statutes are seldom enforced these days except
against homosexuals.
Anyway, Biblical interdictions and harsh penalties in the law codes
never have prevented bestial practices. As with all other varieties of
sexual behavior, people have always done pretty much as they pleased in
the privacy of their own boudoirs and barns.
Although records of specific incidents of bestiality down through the
years are scarce, there is ample evidence that it has been widely
practiced in all centuries by all peoples. There are many reports by
travelers and explorers of prevalent bestiality among the depraved
citizens of other, less-enlightened lands. Sanctimonious observers from
the western world found it running rampant among the pagans of the far
east, Europeans observed it with horror among the Arabs and black
Africans, Arabs declared it to be common among the perfidious Turks.
But there was plenty of beastly buggering going on among our own
ancestors in Western Europe as well. The best evidence that bestiality
was a crime is that it is constantly mentioned both in church and civil
law, century after century, with ever more drastic punishments being
laid down for the culprits. It would hardly have been such a constant
concern of the law makers unless it had been a widespread habit.
In the Middle Ages, when penalties against it were the most severe, all
the evidence indicates that bestiality was an adjunct to witchcraft
revelries and a casual barnyard pastime that ran a neck-and-neck race
with incest as the favorite sport among the peasantry.
In the prim and proper nineteenth century, Krafft-Ebing regretfully
reported that violation of animals was "none too infrequent," and in the
modern day Doctor Kingsey's more extensive and enlightened research
discovered that forty to fifty percent of farm boys he interviewed had
had some kind of sex relations with animals at one time or another in
their young lives.
A good indication of the way bestial sex has obsessed man's fancy
through all the ages is the frequency with which it turns up in popular
literature and mythology. The ancient myths and fairy tales are full of
creatures half-human and half-beast such as centaurs, sphinxes and
mermaids, and human and animal love affairs wherein the beast usually is
a God or a prince temporarily transformed.
In our own time we continue to thrill over popular entertainment wherein
bestiality is suggested if not specifically portrayed. Jungle
adventures, in which young lovelies are carried off by giant apes,
presumably to satisfy their bestial lust, have always been popular with
matinee audiences.
As many writers including Freud have suggested, where bestiality has
persisted so in men's fantasies, there certainly must have been
widespread practice of the actual deed, for men's dreams are reflective
of their real-life desires.
In the free-and-easy climate of today, bestiality is not only as common
a pastime as ever, but many of those who practice it are quite willing
to spill their guts about it for publication without shame or fear.
There is a spirit of adventure in the practice of sex today--a reaching
out for new sensual experiences of every kind and unabashed readiness to
share the fruits of those experiments and spread the joyful word to the
hesitant, still-puritanical masses.
I had surprisingly little difficulty in finding a variety of people of
all ages and both sexes who quite willingly "told all" about their
bestial habits for this book. I have compiled from the resulting taped
conversations the case reports in the following pages. Only the names
and places have been disguised in some instances, in light of the sodomy
laws, but the broad picture these cases give of bestiality as it is
practiced in our twentieth century world is a true one.
Chapter 1 "Spectator Sport"
In the course of history, bestial practices have not only been a private
pastime but in various places and times have played a part in religious
rituals, witchcraft rites, and public spectacles for the titillation of
the masses.
It is hardly surprising that the ancient Romans who made a arena
spectacle out of everything from costume dramas to gladiatorial warfare
found sadistic delight in bestial sex exhibitions on the grand scale. An
amazing variety of animals were trained to perform sexually in the
arena, most often committing rape on helpless, spread-eagled young
maidens. Zebras, cheetahs, even giraffes reportedly were involved in
this kind of bizarre sport.
According to R.E.L. Masters, the diligent sex-researcher and writer, on
one infamous occasion in the Coliseum a hundred golden-haired young
girls were raped in unison by a hundred rampaging baboons, a girl-show
spectacular beyond anything ever dreamed of by Busby Berkeley.
On other occasions, to add an extra zest to the performance, wild apes
would not only rape the unfortunate girls but also devour their bodies
afterwards for an encore.
Since those pagan times, bestial sex-shows have never again reached such
heights of production lavishness or played to such arena-sized
audiences. In recent centuries and down to the present day, virtually
the only public performances of the kind have been whorehouse
exhibitions, usually involving a prostitute and either a large dog or a
small horse.
Krafft-Ebing noted such an exhibition a hundred years ago, an "example
of the moral depravity in large cities," in which "a Parisian female
showed herself in the sexual act with a trained bulldog to a secret
circle of rogues at ten francs a head."
Since the old-fashioned garden-variety whorehouse has become practically
extinct in this country, generally one must travel abroad to find such
performances today. A few countries of Latin America, Asia and the Arab
lands still offer these usually pitiful spectacles as underground
tourist attractions.
A New York executive who has spent much time in the Caribbean islands
where his firm does a great deal of business tells about an experience
of the kind in pre-Castro Cuba.
Case 1: Ben P.
Before the revolution down there, Cuba was really the place to go, I'm
telling you. It was murder trying to get any business done is the only
thing, with all the distractions--whorehouses on every street, blue
movies, and orgy exhibitions-you name it and you could find it. You
didn't have to do any shopping around either. All you had to do was walk
out on any street They'd spot you for an American right off and there'd
be a dozen pimps after you, trying to sell you every kind of sex
experience that man ever invented. You couldn't help but get the
impression that every broad in Havana was peddling her ass and every guy
was pimping for them.
The "exhibitions" were the big thing. First thing they'd mention to you.
"Superman" was the big star. He was a big black bugger with a cock like
a baseball bat, and he put on shows in one of the houses there. He'd
take on about four or five of the girls at once and they'd play the
scene for you any way you ordered it. If you wanted to, you could strip
down and join the show yourself. They'd do their thing in a private
performance just for you, or for a whole party of ten or twenty
tourists. How Superman kept that prick of his up all day is beyond me.
Must've had a steel rod planted in it. Or maybe there were three or four
different "Supermen" working in shifts for all I know.
Anyway, I'd been there a few times and seen and done just about
everything there was in that goddamn sex-town, and one hot day in
December I landed in Havana with some business to attend to, figuring
I'd finish it up in an hour or two and hop back to Miami that same
night. No hanky-panky this trip I promised myself. In fact I had a
redhead date all lined up for myself in Miami that would put all-these
fat-ass Cuban whores to shame. I figured she and I would have a little
private exhibition, all our own that night in front of the picture
mirror in her apartment.
But of course I had the usual pimp parade on me like leeches as soon as
I got downtown from the airport, giving me all the usual pitches, and
they didn't like to take no for an answer. They figured that men came to
Cuba from the U.S.A. to get laid, period. You tell them you're not
interested and they don't believe their ears. After all, once you'd seen
the Capitolio and the rum distillery and the ancient cathedral in
Havana, what the hell else is there left but the whorehouses?
It wound up finally with just this one determined cat dogging my tracks,
still trying to sell me some kind of cock therapy. He'd already run
through the whole catalogue of goodies for me about twelve times. "You
want the woman? Big tits woman? Young girl? Very young! Teen-age
schoolgirl for you. She do everything you like. Two young girls-all for
you. Two together. They come with you. Your hotel. Maybe young boy? You
like the young boy? You say what you like. I fix for you. See the
exhibition? Two girls? Three girls? Four? Five?"
Then he got into something that sounded like "done-kee--the done-kee." I
didn't get the meaning at first, but then I realised all of a sudden
that he was pitching for a girl making it with a goddamn donkey. This
was a brand new one on me. I'd heard there were such things that went on
but I'd never been steered onto it before. All of a sudden I was
interested. It was something people talk about but you don't get to see
every day in the week and I was really curious. That woman with a donkey
shit--you don't half believe it really happens, you know? I doubted that
there were two guys in the whole of Philadelphia that could say they'd
ever seen it, and here was my chance to be the first in my
neighbourhood.
At first I thought maybe it was just a movie show this guy was talking
about, but he said, "No--real alive done-kee--fuck pretty young girl for
you."
I cooled down a little when he told me it was going to cost me fifty
Cuban pesos, which translates into exactly fifty U.S. dollars. That was
the tab for a private performance-just for me, the girl and the
donkey--but if I didn't mind sharing the spiritual experience, I could
wait until night and there'd be a group showing for a crowd of tourists
at ten dollars a head admission. Well shit, I couldn't pass that up. So
I told him to put me down for a reservation, kissed off my date in Miami
and checked into a hotel to wait out the time.
My friendly guide came to pick me up in a cab at seven-thirty and we
drove down to the Chinatown section--the driver blasting his horn at
every intersection the way they do. We pulled up at a seedy-looking old
mansion on a dark street-it had a huge front door about ten feet tall
with an ornate grill-work all over it--real old Spanish style.
There was the usual fat madam that let us in and we went across a
shitty-smelling courtyard and into the front room of the place. There
was a lot of Spanish chatter going on--about how much loot they were
going to be able to squeeze out of me, no doubt. I'd already laid out
five to the cab driver and ten to the guide, but there was still the
beady-eyed Madame to take care of, and probably the girl and the donkey
besides. Then there'd usually be a few extra associate whores and
apprentice pimps coming around with their hands out before any action
finally got under way. There was a lot of featherbedding in these Havana
sex factories. Everybody wanted in on the loot, whether they'd
contributed to your orgasm or not. They must've had a hell of a strong
union going for them I guess.
I gave five to the Madame right away to get her off my back and turned a
deaf ear to the swarm of young chicks that swooped down on me next,
pressing their tits into me and grabbing at my pants the way they always
did. The smart thing to do in a whorehouse is to let them grab at your
cock all they want but keep your hand in your money pocket and protect
that at all times.
The Madame and my guide shooed the girls off me finally and we went
inside through about six layers of draperies and came to a big square
room with a round bed in the middle and the usual mirrors all over the
walls and ceiling. There were about ten or twelve guys sitting around
the bed, stateside tourist types. One of them even had brought his wife
along with him. She was too prim and plain-looking to be anything but a
wife.
The show had already started, but I hadn't missed anything. This was
only a preliminary act--warm-up for the main event. Two naked girls were
going at it on the red satin bedspread, one of them was fucking the
other man-style with a huge artificial prick fastened onto her lower
belly by straps. I'd seen this kind of shit before and it didn't do a
hell of a lot for me. The room temperature was about a hundred-and-nine
degrees--they didn't have air conditioning in the brothels in those days
and the tourists were all panting and sweating beads with the heat and
the excitement. I pulled up a chair in the second row, away from all
those steaming bodies. I figured I'd save my sweat for the donkey act.
Meanwhile the artificial cock was pounding in and out and the fat little
broad that was getting it was thrashing all over the bedspread,
pretending to have fantastic orgasms. I got more fun though out of
watching the tourist's wife, who was sweating worse than any of the men
and looked very uncomfortable. She kept one hand up to her face at all
times as if she was afraid somebody from back home was going to walk in
all of a sudden and recognize her.
The girls quit their dildo fuck abruptly and broke off connections to
move into a new position, but just then the Madame popped in clapping
her hands and sang out, "End of act one," or Spanish words to that
effect. Four or five more girls had come in with her, some naked and
some in G-strings, and they all climbed up onto the bed and struck
leering poses, jiggling their boobs and grinding their hips for our
benefit, and the two broads that had been performing got up and joined
them.
Now it was up to us to decide which one of the girls we wanted to see
getting her well-plugged by the donkey. I voted for a slim little giggly
chick with pointy, springy tits and a cute ass, figuring she'd give us a
good lively show, but most of the tourists voted for a phony blonde with
a big-eyed baby-face and a pair of boobs like Sophia Loren. It figured.
Then the other chicks all disappeared, we pulled our chairs back, and a
couple of black Samsons came in and carried the bed away. At that point
I was wondering how in the hell they were going to set the thing up.
Getting a donkey's cock into a girl has to be some kind of a contortion,
I figured, for the donkey and the girl both. There had to be some kind
of apparatus.
Sure enough, they wheeled in a wooden platform and I began to see how
they would manage it. The girl apparently would lie on top of the thing
on her belly with her legs hanging down in back, spread wide, with her
feet in stirrups and her pussy trough wide-open from the ass end. And
there were raised-up shelves on both sides of the contraption where the
donkey could rest his front legs when he reared up into position.
But the girl--I think they said her name was Felicia--didn't climb onto
her perch right away. She was circulating around among the crowd making
friends, thanking all the boys individually for picking her to fuck the
donkey, and showing her gratitude with big slurpy tongue-licking kisses
and by letting everybody play bouncy squeezy with her fantastic boobs.
When she came by me I passed up the titty feels and ran a handful of
fingers up between her legs into her big slimy snatch, which is where I
live, baby. I could tell she had a donkey-size cunt all right. Wow! She
opened her legs for me and let me get my whole hand up inside her and
then she clamped her thighs shut and did a fast wiggle, twisting her
snatch around my fist, and at the same time she leaned forward and
pressed her big flabby boobs into my face. Whoosh!
She had a real gamy, unwashed stink about her, but it was the raw, basic
smell of a woman and that turns me on more than any phony perfume of
dainty deodorant. That's one thing I always liked about those
old-fashioned Latin whores-they stank like a woman is supposed to stink.
That's something we've lost in this super-antiseptic age, the sensual
value of human body-smells.
Anyway, speaking of smells, they brought in the donkey just then and he
sure stank like he was supposed to all right. He was a little squatty,
stump-legged bugger. Must've been half burro. His cock was still limp,
but Felicia soon took care of that. She started off stroking his neck
and patting his nose and then she pressed one of her big boobies to his
mouth and rubbed it around and damned if that donkey didn't start in
licking around the nipple with his big old tongue. She must've had honey
smeared on it or something. Anyway that gave us all a good laugh.
After a little of that she ducked down underneath his belly and started
teasing his prick with her fingers. The donkey shuffled his hooves
around and blew out a nose full of snot. She was beginning to get to
him. Then Felicia lifted her head up with her tongue snaking out, and
damn if she didn't start in licking the shit out of that old donkey
dick. It was the goddamnest thing you ever saw. I heard a big gasp from
the tourist broad. She probably didn't believe women did this nasty
thing to men's pricks, let alone to donkeys. It sure was a sight all
right, seeing that black dong swelling and stretching out like somebody
blowing up a balloon. It must've wound up at least a foot long at its
full extension and she was slobbering over it like crazy, licking it all
up and down its length and letting the ugly old thing slide way down her
throat and then easing it out again.
Finally she had that bugger so hot and horny he was tossing his head and
tail around and stamping his front feet and quivering his withers--he
looked like he was going to explode any second. She jumped up then and
the two attendants ran out and grabbed the donkey or else he would've
climbed right up on her then and there before she could get in position.
He was kicking around and snorting to beat hell. Felicia climbed onto
the platform and got set and then she yelled she was ready, and the guys
led the donkey in behind her and let him rear up. Then they ducked out
of the way in a hurry. From there on that fucking donkey didn't need any
help from anyone--he knew what to do. He lunged right in against the
girl's ass, his big belly up over her back and his long prong bobbing
behind her. It looked like he was going to crush the shit out of her,
but with his front legs set in the tracks on each side of her I guess
his weight didn't come down on top of her the way it looked. But his
prick was whanging the hell out of her rear end,bumping and butting at
it before it found the hole. He finally got down under the crack of her
ass and settled into the slot, right on target. But there still was a
lot more stomping around with his hind legs and tail twitching before he
actually worked it into her pearly gates and started driving it home.
Felicia was yipping and yelling the whole time, telling him, "Fuck me,
Pepe," in Spanish and English all mixed together.
Just to see it happening you'd have sworn that fucking donkey was
ripping the living shit out of the poor helpless girl, but no such
thing. She was even laughing, along with all the yelling and whooping. I
don't know how many times she'd done this act before, but she must've
been damn well broken in. The donkey kept on humping and humping at her
for quite a while. I was surprised--I didn't think they went on that
long. I'd heard that horses just made a couple of quick plunges and shot
their wads and I assumed donkeys would be the same. But they must've had
this bugger trained to hold his fire and make a better show of it for
the crowd.
It was wild and exciting to watch--I'll say that--but a little sickening
too in a way. Seeing that fucking ramrod disappearing at least a foot up
inside a girl's guts had to make you wince a little.
When the donkey came finally, he must've shot a half-a-gallon of juice
up her alley--it came oozing back out all around her ass and dripped
down the backs of her legs. She let out a big yahoo and right away the
two big boys came out and pulled the donkey back off her and led him
away with his prick still a half-a-yard long and a big streamer of goo
dangling off the end of it.
Felicia hopped down off her perch, as spry as ever as far as I could
see. She didn't look any the worse for her ordeal, although her body was
dripping wet with sweat and her pussy and ass were all lathered white
with the donkey's cream.
"You like?" she said with a big happy smile and we all gave her a round
of applause. I was thinking, "wonder what the hell she could do for an
encore." But that was the end of the formal entertainment. Felicia went
around the circle collecting tips from the tourists and it looked to me
as if she made quite a haul for herself. But she'd earned every nickel
of it as far as I was concerned. I only hoped the goddamn Madame would
let her keep a few bucks of it for herself, but probably not. Those
Cuban whores lived a real slave existence in those days, from all I
heard.
Then all the other girls came back in the room bare-ass naked and tried
to interest the guys in a little private hanky-panky to round off the
evening. I latched onto the little giggly chick that had caught my eye
in the first place, and twenty more bucks to the Madame fixed it up so I
could take her back to the hotel with me for an all-night ball.
Unfortunately she didn't speak a hell of a lot of English. Most of the
Cuban whores were recruited off the farms--a lot of them shipped in from
Mexico--so they hadn't had much chance to learn English. I wanted to ask
the kid about what-it was like screwing the donkey--how the girls got
broken in for it and all that. With a lot of sign language and pantomime
I found out that she didn't enjoy donkey-fucking a hell of a lot, this
girl. She had only done it a couple of times so far. Felicia seemed to
get the call more than any of the other girls, and Felicia loved doing
it with the donkey. But this chick of mine--I forget what she said her
name was--said that the girls practiced for it with a huge, donkey-sized
wooden dildo. The brothel operators would diddle a new girl with that
monster until she could take it up her cunt a foot-and-a-half without
shitting a brick, and then they'd figure she was ready to tackle the
donkey.
This girl had a hell of an elastic twat, I must say, because I didn't
have anything like what that donkey had, cock-wise, but she still gave
me a good tight screw all the same. But then, she was still just a young
kid at that time. Give her another year or two in Havana brothels,
fucking donkeys and every other damn thing that came along, and that
poor little cunt of hers would look like the Grand Canyon--like
Felicia's.
I never got a chance to check up on the matter though. Castro moved in
and took over the whole works before I ever got back to Havana again and
I hear he put all of the brothels out of business right off first thing.
It must've been quite a blow to those poor girls, having to go out and
go to work. But the one I really feel sorry for is that donkey. No more
screwing pretty pink pussies for him. He must've wondered what he did
wrong. The lousy communists probably got him pulling a junk wagon or
some such thing. Poor little donkey. That revolution really fucked up
his sex-life.
Chapter 1 "Dog Eat Dog"
Through the years, if historians ancient and modern are to be believed,
there is hardly a creature--bird, beast or fish--that has not been used
for man's sexual gratification.
We have already referred to the Roman arena spectacles, wherein
giraffes, leopards, mandrills, bulls and boars were involved in the
action. It is also recorded that Roman ladies of that time enjoyed
running snakes up their vaginas in the warm weather for a cool,
refreshing fuck.
In ancient Egypt both men and women regularly consorted with goats. In
the temples, goats were advertised as incarnations of Gods, and were
specially trained to provide sex-services to worshippers of either sex.
Monkeys were also put to sexual use, dog-faced baboons being especially
popular. And most intriguing of all, there are reports that some
resourceful and highly adventurous Egyptians of the time even managed
intercourse with crocodiles.
Chickens and other barnyard fowl have always been popular and are still
often used today. Men also have been known to enjoy intercourse with
dolphins and sea-cows, and women have found sensual delight in inserting
squirming fish up into their jaded quims.
Sheep and calves have most commonly served men down through the years
and continue to be most popular with farm boys today, although horses,
pigs and chickens still figure prominently in barnyard action. But the
most popular bestial partner of all in the modern world undoubtedly is
the dog, and especially among city-dwellers to whom he is the only
practical animal readily available. Dogs seem to adapt themselves
agreeably to sex relations with humans, serving with either tongue or
penis, eagerly cooperative in fucking a human cunt or asshole when
offered or slobbering over a honey-smeared prick or pussy.
Women are more likely to favor a dog over all other animals to serve
their sex purposes and many an unattached lady keeps a canine lover
these days--the perfect partner--always ready-always willing and always
absolutely discreet. A dog will never kiss and tell.
But sometimes the ladies will, as in the following case report.
Case 2: Laura M.
I was married for four years, and for three years and eleven months of
that time I was the most miserable mismated wife in the history of
matrimony. I'd had my share of affairs before marriage I have to admit,
and I'd always thought of myself as a normal heterosexual female that
responded with all the proper gasps and twitches when a man made the
usual penetrations, but somehow when I settled down into marriage and it
became a night-after-night thing, I became a nervous wreck and got so I
hated sex completely. I didn't even want that man to touch me any more
for some crazy reason. It was all I could do by superhuman willpower to
put up with a wham-bam quick one from him. He didn't know what the hell
was wrong with me and I couldn't tell him either, so we just fought and
yelled at each other and things went from bad to worse until we wound up
hardly even speaking to each other.
If it hadn't been for this girl friend of mine, Vivian, I don't know
what I would have done. She lived in the same building and was a
decorator. She'd helped me to fix up the apartment when I first moved in
and then she went on being helpful in all kinds of ways after that. She
spent a lot of time with me during the daytime, and I told her my sad
stories and let her know all about my sex hang-ups and everything that
was bugging me about my old man and men in general.
She never had been married herself but she talked as if she knew the
rules of the game pretty well. Anyway, she was a lot of comfort to me
when my husband finally pulled out for good. I won't say that Vivian and
I fell into a lesbian relationship exactly. We didn't go down on each
other or anything like that. But we did get pretty huggy and kissy
sometimes and I found I was enjoying her holding me and caressing me the
way I couldn't stand my husband doing it to me those last couple of
years.
But I was getting more and more confused. What the hell was I, anyway?
Finally I up and put it to Vivian in plain down-to-earth terms.
"Am I a lesbian or what? I don't really know what I want any more. I
thought it would be a big relief with my husband gone but now I find
that I miss him somehow-miss what he could do for me, if you know what I
mean. Even though I could hardly stand it when he did, that last year or
so. He bugged me so--always expecting his pleasure right on schedule,
night after night. Insisting on his 'marital rights.' What I need is a
nice docile man who's available and ready to go when I want him but
never bugs me otherwise--just up and disappears when I don't want him
around any more. Maybe I should hire a gigolo just for one hour or so a
week to come in and cool down my passions. Do they have such things?"
Vivian laughed and said, "Let me get this straight. What you would like
is a man with a good stiff member who's always up and ready when you say
'go' and then crawls off and lies down in a corner afterwards and stays
there with his mouth shut until you whistle for him again."
I laughed too. "You hit it right on the head. But I'm afraid there just
ain't no such animal."
"Ha!" she yelled. "You just said the magic word. Animal. The answer to
all your problems, honey child."
"Animal!" I assumed she was kidding. "What do you suggest--a nice
friendly chimpanzee?"
"Hell no." she said. "A chimp is a mean son of a bitch. Worse than a man
even. They'll bite the hell out of you, those bastards. A dog is the
only animal for a woman. They can do every goddamn thing a man can do
for you except soul-kiss, and I can take care of that department for
you!"
She was good at kissing. That's what had me worried about myself. I
enjoyed her expert kisses more than I ever did my husband's or any
man's. But what I was missing was the hard root up in the soft shaft. A
good stiff prick, to put it bluntly.
But a dog? I still thought she was kidding. "You're screwed-up and
frustrated, right?" Vivian said. "Can't live with a man and can't live
without one. A lot of us have that problem. But look at me. Do I seem
frustrated? Not for a minute, baby. But did you ever see me dating a
man? Forget it--who needs it?"
"Well, maybe you can keep cool just with women," I said. I figured she
was giving me a lesbian confession here. "I can't just cut myself off
from men though. I'm not programmed that way, I'm afraid."
"Oh, men are fine. I don't knock 'em. Great to talk to--have dinner
with--see a show. But you don't have to let 'em take any liberties.
That's when they get possessive and bossy. Keep 'em at arm's length and
you get them at your mercy. But when you feel that old crotch-fever
coming on you and need something up inside there to scratch it where it
itches,--that's where faithful old ever-ready Bozo steps up and fills
the bill for mama."
All of a sudden with a shuddering jolt I realized that this whole thing
was serious. I'd seen her walking Bozo a couple of times--Bozo was a
gigantic hound she kept in her apartment. Great Dane, or some such
thing. I'd never been able to figure before why she wanted to keep such
a huge dog in a small city apartment. But now it all came clear.
Apparently she had Bozo trained to "scratch her where it itches."
I didn't know what the hell to say. I guess I just gaped at
her--thunderstruck. I couldn't believe it.
"Don't look so fucking horrified," she said. "And don't knock something
till you've tried it. Come with me, baby. I'm taking over your education
right now." She grabbed hold of my arm. "We're going up to my place and
I'm going to give you a free home demonstration of the kind of pussy
therapy you need. No obligation to buy. But I guarantee it'd put that
half-ass husband of yours right out of your mind and give you a whole
new outlook on life, sex-wise. You'll be ready and willing to kiss men
goodbye and good riddance."
I must have been in some kind of a daze. I don't even remember riding up
in the elevator. The next thing I knew, we were in her apartment and big
old Bozo was leaping up all over her with his tongue out, sniffing and
yipping. He must have been able to smell her intentions. Personally I
was scared to death of the goddamn beast. I didn't even like little
dogs. It looked like she had him pretty well disciplined though. She
yelled at him to quit his messing around and get in the bedroom and he
did just what he was told.
I guess I looked as if I was about to faint dead away, so Vivian fixed
me a drink, which I really needed at that point, and then she said,
"Now, you goddamn prissy-ass Victorian, relax here and breathe deeply
until your head clears. I'm going in the bedroom and set the scene for
you. When I yell; you come on in and you'll see my free home
demonstration of doggy-diddling--the sport of queens."
She left and I could hear sweet-talking and sniffing and rustling around
in the bedroom. By now the shock had subsided and I was just burning up
with curiosity over the whole thing. It was so fantastic, I couldn't
wait to see what she'd be doing with that wild goddamn dog. I still
didn't really believe that she'd actually let him--well, my God!
Then she sang out, "Finish your drink, count three, and come on in,
baby. Bozo rides again!
The dog was making a hell of a racket. I could hear him slurping and
snuffling as if he was lapping up his dinner-dish. And then I came
through the doorway and my eyes popped out. It was even crazier than I'd
expected. Vivian had stripped right down to practically nothing. All she
had on was her bra and garter-belt. She was sprawled on her back on the
bed with about three fat pillows underneath her rear-end, so that her
spread crotch was well up in the air where Bozo could get at it. And was
he ever at it! He was standing up between her legs, lapping away at her
slit with his long tongue, slobbering and drooling all over it. Actually
eating her pussy! Can you imagine?
"Oh no!" I said. "You gotta be kidding." "Pull up a chair, oh thou of
little faith," Vivian said. "This is just the beginning. You ain't seen
nothing yet."
I couldn't even talk--I was speechless. I sat down beside the bed and
couldn't take my eyes off the freaky scene. That wild doggy tongue was
going like mad--all up and down her slit and in and out the hollows of
her crotch-really lathering her up good.
"Doesn't that--tickle?" I said like an idiot. I mean, I didn't know what
the hell to say.
She laughed. "You're goddamn right it tickles.
"That's the whole idea, isn't it?"
"How--how did you get him to--er--do that?" I said "Did you smear
something on you or what?"
"In the beginning I did, to give him the idea of what was wanted. But he
caught on fast. He doesn't need any inducements any more, just lie down
like this and spread it and he takes it from there. Ain't it a gas? He
gets his reward afterwards--you'll see."
"Oh, I don't believe it," I said. Bozo was really zeroing in now. It was
incredible. Right dead center on her clitoris--working it over with his
tongue just like a human person. I was beginning to get hot myself, just
from watching. Vivian wasn't talking any more. That crazy tongue was
starting to get to her. Her mouth was hanging open and her breath was
beginning to come hard.
All I could say was, "Wow--wow," over and over. Now the damn tongue was
poking up inside actually. Pushing into her like a prick. Her legs were
twitching and her ass quivering. And the dog must've been getting
excited too, cause he was beginning to drip saliva and he was panting as
hard as she was.
Then all of a sudden she let out a whoop and waved her arms in the air.
I guess this was the signal for Bozo to cool it with the cunnilingus and
really put it to her. And he got the message all right. He raised up his
head and barked a couple of times and then he climbed up over her body
and gave her face a couple of licks and she kissed him back. Those two
were real lovers, I'll tell you. Now I noticed his prick was up by her
pussy, in position to do a job, and just starting to swell up in
anticipation of what Bozo knew was coming. Vivian lifted up her legs on
both sides of him and stroked his flanks with the insides of her thighs.
This was a huge dog, don't forget. The same general proportions as a
man. I mean, he really covered her.
She arched her hips upward, aiming her crotch right at his pecker to
give him a straight-on target to shoot at. It didn't look like he'd have
any trouble ramming it in her from there. Her slit was pretty
well-lubricated already too--slick and glistening wet from the dog's
slobbering over it, plus her own juice oozing out from inside.
"Come on, Bozo--come on," she was whispering to him. "Fuck mama, Bozo.
Fuck me, boy."
He nudged forward and poked his pecker up between her legs and she
wiggled a little and pressed up to meet the point of it and put it to
the hole. And then with hardly any trouble at all he slipped into the
opening of her spread cunt and drove all the way home.
"Go, boy--go!" she hollered out, and he stared humping away like crazy.
I had to pinch myself, I swear. There I sat, actually watching a decent
respectable woman in twentieth century America--my best friend in the
world practically-letting herself be screwed by a Great Dane dog! I
thought such things only happened in stag movies or in opium dens in
Algeria or some such place.
He was really pounding it into her--wham wham--with his big brown balls
whacking up against her ass with every thrust--and Vivian was meeting
every push of his with a bump of her own. She was completely out of this
world by that time. I don't think she even knew I existed any more. Her
head was lolling back and forth, her eyes rolling in her head, her jaw
hanging wide open. The dog was drooling spit down onto her face and neck
but she wasn't paying any attention to that. She was practically
frothing at the mouth herself.
She grabbed onto Bozo's front paws and lifted them up onto her chest,
planting them on top of her boobs, and then she held them there,
pressing his hard claws down against her nipples.
I guess she threw an orgasm before he did, the way she was thrashing
around and whimpering. I never saw such passion before in my life. But
then, I'd never watched another woman get screwed before, by man or
animal.
She kept on making these little moaning noises in her throat and the dog
started sort of squealing himself, as I guess his own orgasm was coming
to a head.
But then it was all over all of a sudden. The dog quit his humping and
his head sagged down over her face, and she brought her hands up and
held onto his body, keeping him in position where he was with his prick
still jammed up inside her. She was puffing like she'd run a twenty-six
mile marathon and she had to get her breath back before she could speak
to me again.
"We have to--we have to wait," she said, until--the swelling on his
prick goes down before we pull apart."
I didn't exactly get the meaning of that at the time, but she explained
afterwards that a dog gets a big puffed-up ball in the middle of his
cock when he inserts it into something feminine and starts fucking, and
that anchors him inside the cunt, rectum or whatever as if he was
riveted there. It only subsides after he shoots his load and goes soft
again. If he tried to pull out while the ball was still engorged it
would rip the hell out of her cunt and she'd be in big trouble trying to
explain her lacerated twat to her family doctor.
That's how dogs manage to get stuck together sometimes when they fuck.
The female's cunt clamps down so tight on the base of the male's prick
that the blood can't drain off after the orgasm--the prick stays swollen
and the two dogs are clamped together and in big trouble.
I thought it was a funny notion at the time. Little did I know I'd be
laughing out the other side of my face later. But Bozo cooled down
pretty quick that time and then he backed off from her and she sat up
and gave me a big smile. She looked pretty hot and disheveled but very
happy apparently.
"Well, how about it? Ever see anything like that before at the afternoon
bridge club?"
"God no," I said. "I almost don't believe it though. Is it really all
that good?"
"Listen-there's only one way to find out for yourself. Get those clothes
off, Miss Freeze-ass. It's your turn next."
"Oh, I couldn't do that," I said. "You're used to it and-and he's used
to you. He probably wouldn't do it with me--would he?"
"Are you kidding? He's like any other man. Show him a cunt and he'll
fuck it."
"But it--it looks so rough. Doesn't he hurt you?"
"It hurts real good, baby. Hurts in all the right places. You won't
believe it till you try it, and afterwards you won't want it any other
way. Bozo is 'the spoiler.' The only thing I'm worried about is that
after one wild orgasm on the end of that bulbous cock of his you'll want
to steal him away from me."
"God, Vivian," I said. "This isn't something I can just jump right into
blindly. You've got to realize--you've really bowled me over with the
whole thing. I mean--it's not exactly an everyday event. Oh Christ, Viv
let me sleep on the idea tonight, Maybe tomorrow. God knows, I need
something new in my sex-life, but I'm not so sure this is it."
"Hogwash!" she said. "I know you. If you take time to think about it
your prudish nature will scare you out of it. You've got to do it right
now, while the juices are flowing. You know damn well you're itching to
try it." She was up and at me then, pulling on my dress. "Come on,
Laura. Get out of those clothes. You'll thank me forever for this,
believe me."
"Okay okay," I said. "But just the cunnilingus part-okay? Let me see how
I like his tongue before I make any further commitments."
"Fair enough," she said. "So get stripped and I'll go get you another
drink to loosen your inhibitions. Come on with me, Bozo. Let the lady
undress in private."
I laughed. "Thanks. Whatever else happens, at least I can always tell my
grandchildren I was once eaten alive by a Great Dane dog."
I peeled down, taking off every stitch. After seeing what a slobby
sucker Bozo was I figured I was better off naked. I didn't want him
drooling all over my underwear. So I was stark bare-ass by the time
Vivian returned with the drink. Bozo scared hell out of me by making a
bee-line for me as soon as he got back in the room.
I backed off yelling, "Hold him. Hold him!" I guess I thought he was
going to throw me down and rape me on the spot. But he only wanted to
sniff around my pussy a little, now that the wraps were off the
merchandise.
"I'll hang onto him," Vivian said. "You get yourself ready. Pile up the
pillows like I had them and make yourself comfortable."
I lay down the same way she'd been, giggling self-consciously. I felt
shameless. I was all sprawled out naked in the bright daylight.
"Open wider, please," Vivian said, pushing my thighs further apart.
"Give him a good wide opening so he's not cramped for work-space."
I giggled again and must have been blushing like a school-girl. I told
her, "I feel like a picture in a dirty book."
She said, "Take my word for it--you look like an art masterpiece in a
museum. Are you ready? Say when."
I took a deep breath and said, "I guess so." Pow! The next thing I knew
that great hairy monster was up there looming over me, sniffing me up
and down, blowing his hot breath all over my goose-fleshed body. I could
have sworn he was about to chomp a great big bite out of me. I was
paralyzed. I didn't dare move a muscle.
"Relax--relax," Vivian said. "He won't hurt you. Close your eyes and
think beautiful thoughts. He'll do all the work--don't worry."
I closed my eyes and tried to close off my mind too, to everything
except pussy sensations. But it didn't work. I could feel that hot,
humid breath hitting me here, there and everywhere and every now and
then a drop of warm dog-spit would splash down onto me. I was wishing
Bozo would get down below there where he belonged and start his
cunt-licking. But all of a sudden I felt his hot vapors hit me right
square in the face and I winced and turned my head away, and then--UGGH!
He began licking right on my mouth, and when I opened up to make a
protest noise his slobby, dripping tongue went right inside. I twisted
my head violently and tried to sit up, but his hard paw came right down
between my breasts and pushed me back.
Vivian finally noticed that I was in trouble and she called him off me,
and I was ready to quit the whole business right then and there. I took
another drink to rinse out my mouth and get rid of the doggy taste.
I told Vivian, "Tell your friend, the kissing I can do without. Okay?"
She laughed. "Okay already. He just wanted to let you know he likes you.
He's ready to get down to fundamentals now."
So we started again and this time, thank God, he went right for the
crotch. I closed my eyes again and all of a sudden I wasn't nervous any
more. It started right away to tickle like a very, very groovy
masturbation. He was hitting the ticklish places all right with a
fantastic magic touch. I'd had my slit licked and diddled and fondled
and fucked many a time before by fingers and feathers and pricks and
tongues, but nothing ever reached me as quickly as Bozo did with that
crazy educated tongue of his.
Vivian was talking to me asking me questions, I think. But she should
have known better. I was already long gone-up on a cloud-out of sight. I
could see what she'd meant now. Who needed a man with Bozo on the scene?
Forget it's a dog doing it to you, I told myself. Just spread your wings
and fly!
I began twisting around and rocking my hips. I couldn't hold still any
more. I could hardly catch my breath. My butt came tumbling down off the
pillows, but that didn't stop Bozo. He stayed right in there and I held
my legs just as wide apart as they'd go to give him an open field. The
crazy trembles were shooting up everywhere through my insides now and
I'd just about lost all control. I don't know if I was whimpering or
laughing or screaming or what. I was completely gone. That wild crazy
dog had turned my whole freaked-out body into one great big explosive
cunt, all five-feet-nine of me. That's what a woman hopes for in bed but
seldom ever finds. She wants to be turned into a complete cunt.
Everything else gone until there's nothing left but wall-to-wall orgasm.
And now I wanted to be fucked! Man or dog--what did I care? I needed a
prick right then--a rampaging fuck to split me up the center
groove--stuff me from gut to gullet.
I don't remember a thing of what happened from then on. All I can recall
are the feelings inside me-sugar-coated skyrockets. But Vivian told me
afterwards that I was thrashing all over the bed so much that I tore the
sheet right up the middle and I was grabbing at Bozo and clawing him
with my fingernails, yelling, "Fuck me please! Please. Fuck me. Fuck
me!"
And fuck me he sure did. With a little help from Vivian I wound up back
on my pillow-perch, and Bozo's ever-ready and rigid prick went
ramrodding up my snatch and started pounding away. From there on it was
Vivian's scene all over again, only this time I was flying and she was
the ground crew.
All I know of the details are what she told me afterwards, and the
physical evidence that I saw with my own eyes after it was all over and
I'd come b
