AH-1056  Animal Lust
[aka 'The Roots Of Human-Animal Sex']
(Ben Arnold)


Introduction

The fact is a little-known one, but it is a fact for all that: many women crave sexual
relations with animals, and a not insubstantial number of women give practical
expression to these cravings by getting physically involved with dogs, cast, horses, and
all sorts of other animals.
Why the average layman remains so unaware of this reality is a little bit difficult to
understand. After all, he knows perfectly well about the other forms of so-called deviant
sexual behavior. But as for bestiality, he is liable to think that the only place where a
woman's vagina is likely to link up with an animal's penis is in Greek mythology. He
could not be more wrong.
Perhaps the reason that men hesitate to accept the fact of bestiality is that they fear the
competition that it implies. A jealous husband can control his wife's contacts with other
men to a degree, and a father can feel at least somewhat confident of success in
"protecting" his daughter's virginity if he lays down strict curfews and carefully screens
the boys she is allowed to date. But if his wife or daughter really wants some dog-penis
in her vagina, he has almost no defense. After all, he may well own a cat, and be too
fond of it to want to get rid of the animal. The neighbors may have a dog, which comes
into the garden of his unfenced suburban home at all hours of the day, when he is at
work and his wife is sitting at home bored...
In short, so as to keep from being in a constant agony of worry about whether or not
his wife or daughter is engaging in bestiality, he prefers to pretend that bestiality does
not exist, and is not a threat to his demands for chastity on the part of his women. This
is, of course, the familiar psychological phenomenon of repression.
What is strange is that the same silence seems to surround the subject in professional
circles. The literature on the subject is very sparse, and this despite the fact that,
assuming I get a fairly random distribution of emotional problems in my patients, most
psychologists and psychiatrists will have had not one but several women patients telling
them not merely of bestial desires, but of actual consummated relations with animals.
It is the purpose of this book to shed some light on this shamefully neglected subject. It
is important to do so, because one of the pernicious effects of the silence with which
Bestiality has been treated is that women who engage in it are apt to think, quite
incorrectly, that they are almost the only females in the world who have ever had such
desires. The reader can imagine how such a misapprehension can augment the already
formidable amount of guilt which the woman who engages in sex with animals is likely
to be carrying around with her.
Who engages in bestiality? Why do they do so? These are the two fundamental
questions to which this book is addressing itself. It shall seek to see if there is any
specific personality type that is associated with bestial behavior, and any common set of
motivations which cause women to engage in an activity which the majority of them
regard as shameful. It goes without saying that the answers to these questions are of the
most fundamental importance in determining what the therapeutic response to
bestiality should be.
Experience is always far more vivid experienced first-hand than any other way, so I have
decided to present the case studies in the form of complete transcriptions of interviews
which I had with patients in my office. The words are the women's own. So too are the
emotions, which is the reason that I decided on this particular form of presentation.
I have long held that to understand any psychological phenomenon, it is necessary to
understand the individual's whole personality. Thus, all details have been left in the
transcripts. Five complete accounts such as I have presented here struck me as being
potentially far more valuable than a larger number of edited and condensed ones.
In order to help the layman keep his bearings as he compares these different cases, I
have appended to each one a brief summary in which I state my own diagnosis, and
describe the form of therapy that was prescribed, and the success that it had. At the end
of the book is to be found a general summary which will hopefully help the reader tie
all the different skeins of experience together.
It is always difficult to judge the reactions to something of a person much less familiar
with it than oneself. I have met many women who engage in sexual relations with
animals, and for me, the phenomenon is frankly rather old hat. In addition, my whole
professional training has been oriented towards allowing me to view psychological
realities objectively, without making any moral judgments of the sort that our culture is
so eager to impose. I am aware that for some of the readers of this book, that sort of
objectivity will be a little bit more difficult to obtain. Taboos are powerful things, and if
few people admit to themselves just how prevalent bestiality is, most of them are
nevertheless inclined to regard with disgust any such incidents that might be brought to
their attention.
That is why I am asking the reader to consciously strive to put away his prejudices for a
while. It is the only way that he can learn anything from this book. He should keep
bearing in mind that all of these women are someone's daughters and someone's wives.
They could be his daughter or wife. They are all human beings. Listen to their
unhappiness and frustration. Try and put yourself in their shoes. Look beyond the stern
"thou shalt not's" of society, and consider for a moment how complicated and fragile
the human personality is. Prejudice and hostility are the antithesis of understanding,
and if the reader is going to sharpen them by reading this book, then he will have done
worse than wasted his time. But if, on the other hand, he sees the common human
element that transcends the accidents of sexual behavior, he will have achieved an
important insight into not merely the lives and problems of these five women, but into
himself as well.


Case History 1

"Doctor, I'm so ashamed that I just don't know how to tell you about all of this. Even
now, I can hardly believe that I really enjoy doing such things!" Thirty-two-year-old
Wilma T. said to me between sobs.
"Enjoy doing what things?"
"Fucking with animals!" she said, her eyes wide with horror.
"You don't look like you enjoy the idea now," I said gently.
"Oh, but deep down I do, I really do. The thing is that my husband made me come
here to see you. He said that it was that or divorce, so I thought I had better come to
you before ten years of marriage goes straight out the window."
"I see. If it weren't for your husband's ultimatum, you'd still be having sex with
animals."
"Yes."
"And enjoying it?"
"In a way. I mean, when I have an ocelot's prick up my cunt, I just think that I'm in
seventh heaven, but afterwards, when the fuck is all finished and I'm just lying there
with the sperm and cunt juices dripping slowly out of my pussy, I feel so guilty and so
ashamed. That's why in a way I was almost glad when my husband walked in on me. I
didn't have the strength to help myself or decided for myself that I should go get
professional help..."
Mrs. T. was obviously a naturally voluble woman, and although she had clearly felt
some real hesitation at the idea of telling her story, now that she had gotten started, she
seemed eager to keep on talking and talking as long as she possibly could.
"Why don't you tell me all about it," I said, taking advantage of the situation.
That was just what Mrs. T. wanted to do, and she went right on into her narrative...
Like I said, Doctor, I've been married to Peter for ten years. It hasn't been a perfect
marriage, but I guess that no marriage is. From my standpoint, the biggest
disappointment is that we've never been able to have any children. It's Peter who's the
sterile one. Back when we were younger, artificial insemination wasn't nearly as
common as it is now, and besides, I don't think that Peter would have gone for it
anyway. In some respects he's a very conservative, jealous individual.
The second problem is that Peter just isn't much in bed. Maybe knowing that he could
never be a father put a damper on his ego in that regard. I don't really know. But what
I do know is that even in the most vigorous days we had, sex once a week was a real
treat for me. I have a really horny box, and always have, right from when I was about
twelve years old. I'd like sex a couple of times a day, at least.
At first, I put up with all this because I wanted to make as much of a go of my marriage
as I possibly could, and I guess in one respect I'm as conservative as Peter is. I took my
wedding vows seriously. There at the altar I'd promised to take him for better or for
worse, and I was going to abide by the promise.
The trouble was that as the years went by, I got more and more unhappy about the
situation. It seemed that life was passing me by, and that I was really missing out on
something important.
Peter owns a pet shop. It was always his dream to own a pet shop and quit the job he
had. When he received a small inheritance, he was able to make his dream a reality. He
likes animals and knows a lot about them. So, the pet shop has been quite successful,
and we've made a comfortable living off of it.
Two months ago, Peter was out of town on a buying expedition. We get a certain
amount of call for fairly exotic animals, and he has to travel quite a bit in order to
locate them.
I was feeling really lonely and out of sorts and horny. For the last few months, I had
been really discontented and sort of bitchy, and I was tempted by the idea of taking a
lover. Not that I had any suave millionaire knocking on my door, but the milkman was
always very friendly, and it seemed to me that almost anything would be better than the
life of complete frustration that I had to put up with.
At that point, I heard a loud chattering noise. I went down to the shop, which is below
our apartment (it was Sunday, and that meant it was closed), and found that the racket
was coming from Gimp the Chimp.
Gimp was a full-grown male chimp whom we had specially ordered for a customer, but
for some reason he wasn't able to take delivery. He had paid us anyway, but we were
stuck with a chimp. We were hoping that we'd get another call for a chimp some time,
so we had kept Gimp around. Besides, he was a good drawing card for the shop.
Gimp was rattling the bars to his cage, and making those funny noises that chimps
make. I couldn't figure out what his problem was, since he had plenty of food and
water available. It was only later that I read that male chimps get very sexually
frustrated if they don't have some twat from time to time. Gimp wanted to stick
that prick of his in something, and that was why he was making the racket. The fact
that his reddish cock was part way erect should have given me an idea of what the score
was, but it didn't, for some reason.
Gimp was making so much noise that I was really a bit worried about him, so I
unlocked the cage to take him out. He'd been around for some months, and had
already become a bit of a house pet. I always kept him nice and clean for just that
reason.
I'd only just finished my period, and I guess that meant that my cunt was pretty
odoriferous, because as soon as Gimp was out of his cage, he buried his face against my
crotch. He stuck his head under the dress and tried to lick my cunt through the fabric
of my panties.
"Gimp, stop it," I said laughing. I didn't yet realize what was going to happen, but I did
find the idea of a super-horny chimp sort of funny.
Chimps don't just have paws, of course, they have regular hands, and they're sometimes
awfully good at using them, too. So before I knew what was happening, Gimp had
pulled my panties down and was feeling up my cunt with his long, thin fingers, while
pressing his flat lips against my tingling labia.
My laughter was already starting to die away and be replaced with something much
more along the lines of passionate gasps. That chimp really knew his business when it
came to cunt-handling, and I hadn't had a good feel there (except for the ones that I
gave myself from time to time) in years.
If I had been asked cold what I thought of having sex with a chimpanzee, I would have
said the idea was disgusting. But taken by surprise like that, with my cunt getting all of
this wonderful stimulation, I was a good deal less certain. In fact, my resistance was
starting to collapse.
Chimps can masturbate, you know, and that's just exactly what Gimp was doing as he
felt up my cunt. He couldn't stick his penis in my hole, since I was standing up and so
much taller than he was. But he could feel his rod off while continuing to rub and
stroke my pussy into a state of the most frantic come-need.
"Uh! Uh! Uh!" I moaned. My body was tensing up more and more, my cunt was
readying itself for a come, and any moral scruples that I might have had about the idea
of fucking with a chimpanzee had just gone straight out the window.
He had wormed his fingers up into my cunt, now, and was pressing the joints against
the tender cunt-walls. His thumbs were running back and forth over the labia, too,
teasing them into a state of perfectly frantic passion.
My whole cunt was awash with pussy-fluid, and I had my hands on my tits now and
was feeling them up through my blouse. I undid the blouse, then whipped off the bra.
It was so good to cup and fondle those soft globes while Gimp the Chimp continued to
work away on my twat.
All of a sudden, an electric bolt went zanging through my body, followed by another,
and another, and another. I was coming, and man, oh man, was I ever coming hard.
"AHHHHH!" I gasped as my pelvis bucked and heaved with the force of the orgasm
that was tearing through it. Every muscle in my body was twitching, every nerve was
firing as the female come-joy pulsed through me in great, strong waves.
And then I saw the stream of sperm shoot out of the chimp's cock. His own handaction, 
coupled with the excitement of having brought me off, had been enough to get
him over the top, and now his rod was spewing away to beat the band.
Gush! Gush! Gush! I was amazed that the animal's balls could hold so much jism.
Finally, we were done, and the passion ebbed slowly away from me.
As you can imagine, I experienced something of a letdown. After all, here was my
husband traveling around the country trying to support me, and what did I do when
his back was turned? I immediately started having sex with the animals. Not with a
human lover, even, but with animals!
A wave of disgust went through me. I put Gimp the Chimp back in his cage (now that
he had had a come, he was quiet), and went up to the bedroom, where I threw myself
down on the bed and buried my face in the pillow. I didn't cry or anything. I just lay
there thinking how rotten I'd been and promising myself that I wouldn't allow anything
like that to recur in the future.
The trouble is that promises like that are a good deal easier to make than to keep. That
night, after I had gone to bed, I couldn't help thinking how wonderful it would be to
have a good man there in bed with me, someone who would really give my cunt the
bang of its life.
There weren't any men around, but there was Gimp – I put the idea out of my mind at
once, but it kept trying to come back, no matter how hard I concentrated on other
things.
A few minutes went by, and then I decided that maybe I should go down and give the
animals a final check. I couldn't be sure that I had put water in all of their cages.
I went on down, and out of curiosity (or so I told myself) I looked in on Gimp. He was
sitting there in the corner of his cage, wide awake. As soon as he saw me, he came
running up to the bars and started to shake them again. I saw his prick stiffen up, and
his balls pull up tight against the prickroot. It was obvious what it was that he
associated me with now, and what it was that he wanted.
I tried to turn away, but couldn't. I just stood there while his cock got more and more
erect. I don't know if you've ever dieted, Doctor, but I was in exactly the same position
as someone who stands outside a restaurant telling himself that he won't go in, but
knowing that in the end he will anyway.
My clit was already stiff, and I felt little drops of cunt-juice dribbling down the inside of
my thighs.
"Why not!" I said to myself suddenly. All at once, I felt angry with my husband for
leaving me high and dry, not just when he was on trips, but all the time. If that was his
idea of how to treat a woman, then he deserved whatever he got.
As for me, what I was going to get as some good hard chimpanzee prick right in the
box!
Once I had made up my mind, I was in almost a panic to carry my decision into
practice. I fumbled with the lock, and then took the chimp by the hand and led him up
to bed. If you're going to be hanged for a lamb, you might as well be hanged for a
sheep. If I was going to fuck with Gimp, I figured that there was no reason why I
couldn't do so in the marriage bed.
He was very impatient, and kept feeling me up on the way to the bedroom, but finally I
got him there and pulled him under the covers with me.
He had never been in a bed before, of course, and that seemed to fascinate him. He
dived under the sheets completely, and wriggled all around, getting plenty of feels in on
my cunt.
I figured that maybe the blankets were distracting him, so I flipped them off. We were
still lying on the bed, but now there was nothing to take his attention away from the
thing that I wanted him to regard as the most important, namely my cunt.
He was pawing away at me there, and feeling up my labia with his fingers. That was all
very nice, but I wanted some real, sure-enough prick-action. I took his penis in my
hand and squeezed until the thing was swollen up to full size. Then, as I continued to
lie on my back, I pulled the creature up onto my belly.
I'm not quite sure how chimps fuck, but of course they're very intelligent creatures, and
Gimp got the idea right away as to what it was that he was supposed to do. He slipped
his cock inside me, and started to slide it back and forth, while he played with my tits.
Female chimps don't have any real tits, but either Gimp sensed somehow that mine had
something to do with sex, or else he was just plain curious as to what these soft globes
were. Either way, he was pawing them quite vigorously, and even occasionally licking
the nipples with his big, flat tongue. Needless to say, I didn't have any objection.
In... out... in... out... He seemed to be bucking away inside me much faster than Peter
ever did, but I couldn't tell if that was something that was peculiar to chimps, or
whether Peter was just particularly feeble and slow. The second possibility struck me as
very believable.
Whatever the reason, that cock of Gimp's was doing a beautiful job on my pussy-flesh,
a far better job than Peter had ever managed to do in the ten years that we had been
married. The animal's cock was so long and firm, and he used it with such seeming
confidence!
In! Out! In! Out! He had really stepped up the pace now, and every thrust of that rod
of his pulled the labia back and forth across the clit in the most tantalizing manner
imaginable.
"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" I moaned, tossing my head from side to side. My
forehead was covered with little beads of sweat, my back was arching with passion, I
was grinding my ass-cheeks against the matress, and still he continued to ride me, and
ride me, and ride me...
He was winding me up really fast, faster than Peter had ever been able to do in the best
of times. I was almost there... almost...
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Then, suddenly, I felt my cunt grip furiously as his pistoning tool as my orgasm hit me.
Wham! Wham! Wham! Man, was I ever coming, and the effect of my cunt grabbing at
his prick, and my hips bucking and heaving like that was to get Gimp over the top. His
penis gave a final little stiffening, and then all of a sudden started to unload into me
with gush after gush of sperm!
I moaned and groaned as our two locked bodies continued to palpitate in perfect time.
The lady and the chimp! Man, oh man, oh man!
When he finished shooting, he pulled his cock on out of me, and then just started
chattering in a friendly way, and feeling my face with his hands in that "get-acquainted"
manner that chimps have. I guess they don't have any of our complicated needs, any of
our feelings of doubt and so forth after fucking. They just unload, and then it's back to
the routine business of being a chimp.
I wasn't that lucky. I felt just exactly the same feelings of guilt that I had when I had
beaten off with him in the afternoon. This time, the feelings were, if anything, even
more intense, since I had actually allowed his cock up my cunt.
And yet, to be honest, there was another feeling too. I mean, here Peter was with all his
tiresome habits, and worst of all his sexual inadequacy. And he'd never made the
slightest effort in the world to shape up. If his wife got involved with an animal, maybe
that was just his tough luck.
My feelings were a lot more complex than that though, because at exactly the same
time I felt terribly guilty for having violated my marriage vows, and so forth.
At any rate, all I could do was take Gimp back to his cage and try and get some sleep.
The presence of chimp hairs on the sheets reminded me, however, of my little escapade.
The pattern was pretty much set. That is to say, yielding to the temptations of animal
sex, then feeling bad about it until the next time that I yielded. I kept telling myself that
the only reason that I allowed myself to get involved in something as kinky as this was
my terrible horniness. If I could only have a good bang, then things would have been
all right.
Fortunately, I thought, my husband would be back soon, and though he wasn't exactly
a ball of fire in the sack, nevertheless he would be good enough to keep me fairly
satisfied, I at least wouldn't find myself overwhelmed with this terrible desire to have
sex with a chimpanzee.
Peter got back the next evening, and I had already changed the sheets so that he
wouldn't notice the chimpanzee hairs. We had supper, and I asked him about his trip.
He didn't have much to say. He was an almost Calvin Coolidge like taciturnity which is
one of his features which sometimes annoys me every bit as much as his sexual
incapacity.
When we went to bed that night, I first put on my sexiest nightie, and plenty of
perfume. I don't think that I'm a bad-looking woman, and most guys, I liked to tell
myself, would have been pretty turned on by the sight of me sitting there on the bed
with a come-hither look on my face.
"Traveling wears a man out," Peter said as he got into bed. "I'll be glad to get some
sleep. Never could sleep on a train anyway."
I was a bit disappointed that he hadn't made an instant lunge for my sexily attired
body, but I'm enough of a realist to be used to things like that. Well, if he thought that
he was just going to sack out after leaving me without any sex for three days, he had
another thing coming.
I put my arms around him, and started to gently caress his prick.
"I think that I'd rather get some sleep, honey," he said in a bored voice.
That answer so annoyed me that I felt like giving his prick a really hard wrench. But I
knew that that wouldn't get me anywhere, so I continued to cajole him, kissing the
nape of his neck and feeling up his rod. It was slowly getting stiff. He isn't completely
made of stone. Just ninety per cent.
"C'mon, honey," I said, "I really need it. Don't you think that you could manage a bit
of action for me?"
"Oh, all right."
Real enthusiasm. But I was so glad to know that I was about to get some action out of
his dick that I decided to try and push my annoyance out of my mind.
I rolled over on my back and he got on top of me. I knew that we would be fucking in
the missionary position, because that was the sole and unique position that we ever
used. I had once suggested that we try a little bit of experimentation, and he had
replied, "what, do all that unnatural stuff?"
He got his cock into place, and then slid it in. It's a pity that he isn't more sexually
inclined, because that penis of his is really nice and big. If he only wanted to use it, and
knew how to, he could be quite a cocksman, and I wouldn't find myself wanting to
have sex with animals.
In he went, then out again. Nothing imaginative, but nice, solid cockwork. I was
already starting to get pretty wound up, and as for him, he was chuffing away like a
locomotive.
Back! Forth! Back! Forth!"
I felt my muscles tense, felt my cunt clutch at his pistoning organ...
Then, all of a sudden, his cock started to go soft on me.
I tensed my body, tried to make myself somehow come, but of course, there just isn't
any way of coming when you're really trying like that.
He was doing his best, I suppose, but his best was none too good. The pressure in his
rod was falling fast. He gave a shove or two more, and then pulled out.
"Told you I was too tired," he said, and rather than apology or embarrassment in his
voice, there was almost a note of satisfaction, as if I had gotten my comeuppance for
being a pushy, sexually hungry female.
"Guess so," I said. There were a lot of nastier things that I would have liked to have
added, but I guessed that he might be secretly worried about his impotence, and I
didn't want to make it worse by putting a lot of pressure on him. He sometimes
managed to complete a come, and by diminishing his ego, I could only lose, I felt.
My cunt was so hungry for a come that I could almost have cried, however. I just had
to get myself off, and that was all there was to that. I knew that Peter didn't think much
of handjobs, so I got up and went to the bathroom. I think that he's so innocent he
may have thought that I just needed to go to the toilet When I was in the bathroom, I
looked around for something more or less the size and shape of a penis. I could have
finished myself off just using my fingers on my clit and labia, of course, but what I
really wanted was something hard and long inside me. The first part of the fuck, when
he still had steam up, had given me a taste for that.
There was a plastic shampoo bottle that was about right. It was streamlined, with one of
those "decorator-designed" caps that fits flush with the sides of the bottle.
I got into the bathtub and placed my legs on either side of it, so that my cunt was wide
open and inviting. I really wished that I had a man's good hard dick there, and failing
that, I wished I had the chimp's penis, or the penis of some other animal. I knew one
thing, and that was that I was certainly going to continue with the animal fucking after
tonight's experience with Peter.
I rubbed the smooth plastic top of the shampoo bottle against my labia and clit. I
hadn't gotten any cooler since Peter lost pressure, so just the touch of that thing there
was almost enough to make me come Now that I knew I was going to be able to
complete my orgasm, however, I felt a bit less desperate and frustrated. I thought that I
would maybe take my time a bit, so that out of the tension of waiting would come a
really super come that would make up for that awful scene in the bedroom. I supposed
that Peter might suspect something, but if he did, that was just tough. I was going to
have my fun.
So, in order not to blast off right away, I moved the bottle top away from my clit for a
while, and concentrated on other parts of my body, such as the much less sensitive
outer cuntlips. I even pressed it against my nipples for a while, though in fact my
fingers were doing a perfectly adequate job of keeping these frantic little nubs in a state
of proper excitement.
I moved the bottle down to between my legs again, and after giving a couple more rubs
to my labia, I shoved the thing on into my cunt.
As improvised dildoes go, it was pretty good. It was a good size, and it was nice and
smooth. It was rather stiff plastic, too, so that I had a bit of the real sensation of having
a penis inside my cunt.
I slid the bottle up and down inside me, and because it tapered slightly, the farther in I
put it, the more pressure was exerted on my cunt-walls.
I was wriggling around in the bottom of the bathtub like a beached dolphin. I almost
had my self there... I just needed a couple more shoves...
I pressed my fingers against my steamy clit while ramming the bottle up into my twat
as far as it would go.
Bingo! That did it all right. My body vibrated like a tuning fork as all the pent-up
female come-need that Peter had left so unsatisfied finally burst free in a series of frantic
pelvic spasms!
I lay there in the bottom of the tub gasping for breath for a while, before getting out
and going back to bed. Maybe I would have felt a bit guilty if it hadn't been for the fact
that my wretched husband was already sound asleep and even snoring. Fat lot he cared
about my sexual problems!
While he was there, I couldn't mess around with the animals, but as soon as he left on
another trip, which was a few days later, I was able to get back to some sex that was
more exciting than the average shampoo bottle!
Gimp the chimp was still there for my satisfaction, and I decided to give him a blowjob
before moving on to anything else. I took him out of the cage, and as always, he got
very excited just being near me. He had my number, all right.
I bent down and placed my mouth around his cock. It was already semi-hard, but as
soon as he felt me suck on it, it became as stiff as a ramrod.
I pulled with my lips like someone drawing on a cigar, and at the same time, I was
fondling his balls, which were drawn up against the root of the penis as tight as they
would go.
One thing about Gimp, he clearly doesn't just like to play the passive role. He likes to
get in on the action in the fullest sense of the word. So, although he was enjoying the
blowjob that I was giving him, he moved his hand under my dress and pulled the
panties down.
There was something almost uncanny about having sex with an animal which, although
it was an animal, was nevertheless just human enough to be able to do things like
remove panties and otherwise take the initiative.
I was giving him as varied action as I could on the cock, since I didn't want that
precious organ of his to feel bored. I started out by sucking on the root. Then, I moved
my lips up and down to faster and faster, before finally concentrating on his prick tip.
Judging from the loud little "eek! eek! eek! eek!" sound that he was making, that was
the most sensitive part of his prick, and the action that I was giving him there was the
action that he enjoyed most of all.
Mind you, he wasn't doing at all badly on my cunt, either. Those fingers of his had a
way of getting into everything, including my weltering hole.
I could tell that I was right close to my come, and I wanted the two of us to get it off at
the same time if I possibly could. I sucked away like mad until I felt from the stiffness
of his prick and the way his body was trembling that just a very little bit more
stimulation was all that would be needed to get him off. Then, I put him on hold, so to
speak, by easing up on the pressure enough to keep him from coming, but not enough
to allow his passion to wind down any.
At the moment I felt the first shock of my come pour through my body, I put my lips
back into first gear, and soon I felt his male fluid spatter against the back of my mouth
as my pelvis bucked and heaved with the force of my own orgasm!
Fine! It was just so fine I He shot for quite a while, and my mouth was really full of
chimp-juice when he was finished. I kind of basted his penis with my tongue, sloshing
the semen over it, before removing my lips entirely. I was very careful, since of course I
didn't want to spill any of the stuff.
After moving it around in my mouth for a while, I swallowed it in one big gulp. Just
the thought that I was drinking chimp-sperm was enough to make my clit give a little
quiver of delight.
This time, I didn't feel quite so guilty. Maybe it was because I was still mad at my
husband about the way he had failed to satisfy me in bed, and because of the frustration
that I had felt while waiting the several days between his previous business trip and this
one.
I didn't want to get stuck in a rut with just a chimp, however, and I checked out the
other animals to see which ones might be good partners.
There was a fine big collie named Tam O'Shanter, and I thought that he might be able
to do some nice things to my cunt. He was a very friendly animal, and seemed very
intelligent.
I took him out of his cage and brought him up to the bedroom. There, I got on my
hands and knees and presented my cunt to him.
I had expected that he would start fucking me, but I guess I looked sufficiently different
from a dog for him to have a bit of trouble guessing what it was that I wanted. Instead,
I felt the slurp of his tongue against my cunt. Obviously my female smell was driving
him wild, and he wanted to lick up as much of those female juices as he possibly could.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! At first, I was a bit annoyed by the fact that he wasn't fucking me,
but then I realized that the feeling of that tongue on my cunt was really awfully nice.
Cuntlapping is one of those things that Peter normally writes off as "perverse", so I
don't usually get any of it. Well, now was my chance.
If I wasn't going to actually have his prick inside me, though, there wasn't much need
for me to stay in this position. He could lap my twat just as easily if I were on my back,
and that would allow me to watch the action and play with my tits more easily. That's
important to me, too, because my tits are extremely sensitive, and really enjoy being felt
up.
I rolled over onto my back and presented my cunt to the animal. He kept right on
licking, and soon I was writhing around in pleasure on the ground as he lapped and
licked away with that soft tongue of his.
The thing that was so neat about his tongue was that it was so soft and flexible that
there wasn't a single little nook or cranny that it couldn't get into.
Lick! Lick! Lick!
I was arching my back in passion now, and pressing my tits hard against my chest. My
whole body felt like it only existed for one purpose, namely to feel excited by that
tongue of Tam O'Shanter's.
The thing slithered back and forth over my clit, and every time it did, I thought that I
was going to blast. Somehow, though, I managed to hold on, because I wanted to
prolong the wonderful session as long as possibly could.
Then, a great heaving shudder ran through my whole body, and my hips started to jerk
with the force of my come. That didn't stop Tam O'Shanter, who didn't seem to care
one whit that my soggy cunt was ramming into his face. I guess he figured that that
pussy-fluid of mine was far too good to waste, and the tongue continued to slurp back
and forth over my twat even as I quivered with the force of my wild come! come! come!
When we were finished, I really had to sort of shake my head to get it clear. The come
had been such a total, cunt-bending, mind-blowing experience that I didn't come back
down to earth right away.
When I did, though, I noticed that the dog's rod was incredibly stiff. Obviously, eating
me out had gotten him terribly worked up, and he now needed a come badly.
Well, that was a little need that I was more than willing to take care of. Maybe this
time, he would be willing to actually fuck me if I gave him a bit of a clue how to.
I got back onto my hands and knees, but this time I lifted the big dog's paws up onto
my ass. That gave him the idea. He was half-mounted like that, and he didn't lose any
time moving his paws up onto my shoulder blades. Then, he rammed his cock into my
twat. I was a bit surprised that he found it so easily, seeing as it must be positioned a
bit differently than it is on a female dog, but I guess that maybe he had beginner's luck.
The rod felt fine inside me. It was about the same size as the chimp's, I guess, but
proportioned somewhat differently. It was longer and thinner. But ever bit as hard, and
that was what really mattered.
He didn't hesitate a second, but instead, started shoving his rod quickly back and forth
the instant that he had gotten it inside me. I gave a little gasp of pleasure as I felt it slip
in and out on the fast flowing pussy juices. He would pull it quite far out, too, so that
only about a fourth of it was still inside.
Buck! Buck! Buck!
Man, oh man, was he getting me hot! And the things that I was doing to my tits were
hardly calculated to lower my temperature. I was supporting the front of my body on
my right hand, and that meant that my left hand was free to do whatever I wanted with
my breasts. I pulled on the nipples, pressed the tits up against my chest and let them
flop down again, and did all sorts of other things like that And all the while, that rod of
Tam O'Shanter's was driving me straight out of my ever-loving mind.
"Can't stand it!" I moaned, as if the dog could understand me. "Just can't! Just can't!"
And then I didn't have to stand it any more, because I was coming, and coming, and
coming, with my cunt really letting fly with all its pent up tension!
Brrrrrrrrt! I unwound all at once like a watch with a busted mainspring, and Tam
O'Shanter did pretty much the same thing. As soon' as he felt my cunt clutch at his
sliding rod, the latter began to shoot gob after gob after gob of dog cream up into me!
It was a very, very, very fine come...
The thing that was strange was that although I felt quite guilty about having sex with
animals like this, I didn't think for quite a while about the possibility of substituting
men for the animals. Maybe it was because I felt that having a human lover would
somehow be even more of a betrayal of my husband than having animal lovers. Or
maybe it was that I knew that even if I fucked with, say, the mailman or the milkman,
I'd probably end up wanting to screw with the animals as well, so that I'd just have
made myself doubly unfaithful.
Finally, though, I yielded to curiosity as much as anything else. I wanted to know how
other men stacked up against Peter. Maybe all guys were sort of like that, and I was
being unreasonable in expecting a better performance than I got from him.
So, the next time that I saw the mailman, I made sure that I was just wearing a
bathrobe, with nothing underneath. And I also made sure that the bathrobe belt wasn't
properly tied, so that the garment started to come slowly open while I stood there in
the doorway chatting with him. Of course, that meant that anyone else who might have
happened to be passing down the street could have gotten a good look at my charms,
but somehow that excited me too.
The milkman had been interested in me for quite some time, and when he saw my tits
gradually emerging from my bathrobe, he knew perfectly well what the signal was that I
was trying to send him.
"Why don't you come in for a cup of coffee?" I asked him.
"Don't mind if I do."
Once the door was closed, I flicked the bathrobe open so that he could get a full view of
my tits and my pussy. I glanced at his crotch and saw his penis press hard against the
fabric of his pants. It was obvious that the confinement was one which it wished to
exchange for another kind, namely the confinement of being buried up to the hilt in my
cunt.
He didn't even bother to wait until we could get to the living room or bedroom. He just
pressed me down against the floor, and rammed his cock on into me.
Talk about something that feels good! I almost came right then and there as I realized
what a fantastically stiff, vigorous rod he had. The difference between it and my
husband's cock was like the difference between day and night.
He paused for a second so that I could notice how his penis was so long that the tip of
it pressed against the entrance to my womb. Then, he started pumping away, with fine,
virile strokes.
One! Two! Three! Four! Talk about a guy who knew what he was doing. Lord only
knows why he had decided to make his living as a milkman instead of a gigolo or
something like that!
My hips were moving with the same rhythm as his as I gave little counterthrusts of my
own. I just couldn't get enough of that prick! Even though every time he rammed it
into me it went in all the way to my womb, it wasn't going in deep enough. Man, oh
man, talk about rain after a drought!
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck!
Cock! Cunt! Cock! Cunt!
Then I was hanging on the brink... really hanging... really needing a COME!
And that was IT! My pussy exploded in a wild pyrotechnic display of female fuckfireworks 
while his mighty rod shot its load into me in gush after gush after gush!
Wow! That's all I can say. Wow!
You'd think that with action like that, I'd be willing to give up on the pets. That's what
I thought too, but that very afternoon, I found myself moping around the cages. There
was an ocelot there and I was very curious to see what kind of sex partner he would
make.
Ocelots are wildcats a bit like leopards, but much, much smaller. I guess that they're
about the size of a standard poodle, or maybe not as big as that. This one had belonged
to a circus, and was supposed to be perfectly tame. His name was Inky, and he'd always
licked my hand and everything. I didn't want to take any chances with him getting
excited and clawing and biting me, though, so before fucking with him, I put a muzzle
on him, and bound his paws up with rags, so the claws couldn't come out. He was so
patient while I was doing this that I realized how unnecessary these precautions
probably were. Circus animals have to put up with a lot.
He was an energetic male, and all he had to do was get a sniff of my cunt to be
interested in me. I spread his legs, and he started licking.
Wow! It turns out that ocelots have raspy tongues just like housecats. But the tongues
are about four times bigger, so you can imagine what it was like for me to have him
drawing his tongue back and forth across my labia and throbbing clit.
Rasp! Rasp! Rasp! There was no way I could take more than about a minute of that
without going mad or coming. I was lucky. I exploded into a rip-snorting come, while
the cat continued to lick hungrily at me.
The situation was a bit similar to the one where I had gotten Tam O'Shanter to lick me,
then fuck me. Inky was so excited now that he readily accepted my cunt when I offered
it to him, and he started to shove his rod back and forth with easy, confident strokes.
He didn't fuck like a man, but he didn't fuck like a dog, either. There was something
very feline and sensuous about his motions, and the resuit was pure ecstasy for that
little twat of mine.
In... out... in... out... Sliding... gliding... sliding... gliding...
And then, a final long, sensuous stroke had me coming like mad, while the feline sperm
shot up into me! It was a fine come! A good come! A hard come!
An interrupted come! My husband was standing in the doorway. For some reason, he
had had to break off his trip, and he had walked in on the two of us.
You can imagine the scene. Or maybe you can't, because he didn't behave like one
might think, with lots of screaming and yelling. Just quiet rage as he told me that I
would have to choose between a psychotherapist and divorce.
At that moment, I got scared. I mean, the idea of having my marriage bust up made me
think about what a goofy path I had gotten onto, and I thought that I might as well
give therapy a try, at least for a while.
Marriage has the distinction of being potentially both the most satisfying, and most
frustrating, state a human being can enter in to. Obviously, what it is in a particular
case is defined by the compatibility of the partners.
Unfortunately, various historical forces have worked to cause a whole web of mythology
to be woven around the institution. Most pernicious of these myths is the one that
holds that success in marriage is the norm, and that failure should be a matter of guilt
and self incrimination.
Wilma T. was getting nothing whatever out of her marriage. Neither physical
satisfaction, nor any kind of solid emotional enjoyment. There was no indication that
she respected or even particularly liked her husband. But once the possibility of her
marriage breaking up appeared, she acted in complete conformity to the patterns of our
culture by deciding that she must do everything in her power to save it, rather than
asking herself whether in fact there was anything worth saving. Thus, she allowed a
man whom she neither liked nor respected to more or less blackmail her into doing
something which inspired her with considerable anxiety, namely talk to a
psychotherapist.
Not that she wasn't in need of therapy, by the way. Her bestiality had two essential
components. One of them was physical desire. Her husband's completely inadequate
sexual performance left her in a state of acute frustration, and thus very susceptible to
the physical advances made by the chimpanzee.
The other component was a desire for punishment. Punishment for her husband, and
punishment for herself. She wished to get even with him for leaving her unsatisfied, but
she was old fashioned enough to feel guilty about making real sexual demands on him,
so she wished to punish herself for that. In addition to providing her with physical
pleasure, the bestiality degraded herself in her own eyes and degraded her husband. It
thus satisfied the two motivations within her.
This is made particularly clear by the fact that even when she received a satisfying
sexual experience with a man (the milkman) this only satisfied the physical component.
The subtler psychological need for degradation was not fully met.
There were some very basic decisions about her life that she had to make. One of which
was whether or not "living up to her wedding vows" was something that was worth her
throwing her life away for. In the course of therapy, she came to see that it was not. I
made her see that some of her desires were legitimate, and that there' was no reason
why her husband should expect her to adjust to his sexual appetite without him having
to try and do anything in return. She asked him to come to a sex clinic with her, but he
adamantly refused. At that point she recognized that her marital sex life would never
get better. Since, in therapy, she had come to recognize how empty her life with her
husband was emotionally, she finally reconciled herself to the breakup of the marriage.
Some older readers may be surprised that I did not try harder to "save the marriage."
Such an approach is entirely outmoded, and has even been rejected by many marriage
counselors. I want what's best for my patient. In this case, that clearly lay with a
termination of the marriage.
She still had many guilt feelings about her involvement with animals, and the bestiality
had a certain self-perpetuating quality. The, more she had sex with dogs, monkey, etc.,
the more she felt she deserved punishment, and the punishment that she chose to inflict
on herself was the degradation implied in bestiality. Hence, a never-ending circle of
guilt, which was very difficult to break.
I finally managed to do so, however, by emphasizing to her how natural it was for her
to have physical desires, and how in the circumstances, the animals were not all that
surprising a choice. Once she was rid of the load of guilt, she was able to find a man
with whom she could relate not merely physically but emotionally as well, a man who
would not merely make a grudging acceptance of her sexuality (as her ex-husband did)
but reveled in it. This was what she had been looking for all along. Such a man was
able to give her the physical satisfaction which she had gotten from the animals, but
something else that she found far, far more important.
Since she had come to accept her own sexuality; she no longer felt any need to punish
herself for it, and thus the bestiality no longer had any psychological function to
perform. Her cravings for animal sex thus did what many other suddenly-useless things
do: it withered and vanished.


Case History 2

Janet R. was a good-looking woman of thirty-five. She was very well dressed in that sort
of simple style that's particularly difficult to do right. I guessed that in other
circumstances, she would come across as a very cool and sophisticated person, but the
way in which her hand trembled when she took a cigarette out of her cigarette case
indicated that she was not completely at ease in my office.
I guess that what I'm going to tell you is sort of ancient history," she said, "since I don't
engage in it any more. But when I was doing it, I enjoyed it so much, and did it so
often, that I'm afraid that it may represent some basic tendency of mine.
"And this disturbs you?"
"Yes. Particularly now. You see, I'm in love with a really wonderful man, and I can't
bear the thought that I might be hurting him."
"How are you afraid that you are going to hurt him?" I asked.
"Well, he's asked me to marry him. And I'd like to accept. But I'm not sure that I'm,
well worthy of him. I mean, if this secret tendency of mine were to erupt while I was
married to him, and he found out, it would be a terrible shock for him, if you see what
I mean."
"Sort of," I replied with a smile, "though of course I don't know yet what this dreadful
thing that you engage in is."
"I fuck with horses. Dogs too, but I have to admit that my preference is strongly for
horses. I was doing it very regularly, but now that I've met Charles I've managed to
hold off."
"You have sexual relations with Charles?"
"Yes."
"Satisfactory ones?" "Yes."
"A s satisfactory as those that you used to have with the horses?"
She hesitated a moment before answering that. Not, I thought, because she was trying
to conceal the truth, but because she was trying to honestly make up her mind whether
she liked sex with Charles or with the horses best.
"It's better with Charles," she said finally. "He doesn't have a penis anything as long as
a horse's, of course, but the emotional component to our relations – the affection that
we feel for one another – makes up for the missing inches."
"Well," I said, "in that case it doesn't sound like you have too much to worry about, but
it would be best if you would give me the whole story of your involvement with the
horses so that I can come to a more definite opinion on the subject."
"All right," she said, hesitating for just an instant. And then she started in on her
story...
I come from a very horsey family. Kentucky blue grass country. The whole bit. My
father started the stud that I own at present, and under his direction, it became one of
the best known small studs in the region. Oh, it couldn't compete with the places that
had scores of horses, but our stallions were always known as top-quality material. They
weren't beaten-up old nags that had run for years. One of them had won the Derby,
one the Preakness, and one the Belmont Stakes. Dad used to always say what a pity it
was that he couldn't say some magic word and make the three of them into one TripleCrown 
winner.
Mother died when I was quite small, and it was Dad who introduced me into the lore
of horse breeding. I guess that he didn't know that one day I would end up letting a
horse's penis into my vagina.
After Dad died, I inherited the stud, and ran it with the help of my husband George. I
wasn't madly in love with George, but he did know something about horses, and he
was a good help at running the stud.
George died a year ago, and it was only after he was gone that I realized how much I
missed him. We had become good friends over the years, and he was a good cocksman.
With him gone, my poor little twat didn't have any penis to pay it. attention at all.
Frankly, I'm a pretty horny woman, and I didn't much like the idea of having to do
without prick for any long period of time. But I wasn't exactly sure how to get back
into circulation socially and sexually. I knew that there was no lack of guys who would
be interested in romancing and marrying me to get a share of the stud, which is quite
profitable, but of course I wasn't interested in any characters like that.
One day, when I was feeling sort of lonely and out of sorts, I noticed a horse box
drawing up the drive. For a moment I couldn't imagine what it was coming for, since I
didn't remember any new mares due to arrive. Then I remembered that that had to be
the little pony of Mr. W., a banker friend of mine. I had a new horse for the stud,
Unearned Increment, a fine four-year-old whom I'd just retired. And he needed to be
broken in. That was where Mr. W.'s mare came in.
Race horses are kind of a neurotic breed. I like them very much, but there's no getting
around the fact that having been bred for racing and nothing but racing for several
hundred years has made them very high-strung and temperamental.
Another problem is that the training that's necessary to make them win on the track
tends to accentuate these goofy qualities. From a very young age, a thoroughbred foal is
trained to think of only one thing: running around a track with a bunch of other
horses. The result is that the animals really end up with one-track minds, if you'll
pardon the pun.
So, when they are put out to stud, some of them are so neurotic and temperamental
that they just can't perform. Some of them are impotent, some of them don't seem to
be interested in sex, and almost all of them are so clumsy the first time that they try
and fuck that it's really pretty laughable.
Since a thoroughbred mare is very valuable, and since her time is valuable too, she isn't
suitable for the business of breaking a new stud into the job of fucking. So, the owner
of a stallion borrows a" mare from a friend. Usually a perfectly ordinary mare like the
pony belonging to Mr. W. The stallion tries out on her, and in exchange, her owner
gets the foal. That means he gets a horse that's half champion thoroughbred for free.
Horses like that usually make good jumpers or good all-around riding horses. They
have breed and class, but the neurotic, fragile thoroughbred quality is diluted a bit by
the plebian half of their parentage.
I had been moping around so much that I had forgotten all about the fact that today
was the day that Unearned Increment was going to un-limber that penis of his for the
first time.
It didn't take long to get Sasha, Mr. W.'s pretty bay pony, out of the horse box and into
position. Because there was every reason to believe that Unearned Increment was
probably going to be more than a little clumsy, she was covered with padding and tied
quite securely.
Mr. W. and I watched as the groom brought in Unearned Increment. He's a gray,
which is extremely unusual for a thoroughbred. A fine, handsome horse who just
radiates sexual power.
Even before I saw his prick come sliding out of its sheath, I found myself giving a little
gasp of admiration at the sight of the horse's rippling muscles.
Despite the fact that this was all new to him (active race horses are never allowed
anywhere near a member of the opposite sex) he seemed to have a very good idea of
what was expected of him, and a good idea of how to do it His cock grew and grew and
grew before my eyes as he sniffed at Mr. W.'s pony. I've seen horse erections a million
times in my life, but that doesn't prevent me from being really impressed each time.
Maybe it's because I'm such a sexually oriented woman, bur the sight of a cock well
over a foot long – more like a foot and a half – always gets my pussy-juices flowing.
This time was no exception. I felt my clit stiffen up with excitement, and my nipples
start to harden up. I wasn't wearing a bra, and I wondered if Mr. W. would notice how
my nipples were making little bulges against my blouse. There was a definite feeling of
dampness to my panties, too.
Unearned Increment got up onto Sasha without the slightest difficulty in the world, and
shoved his prick into her. I gave a gasp as I watched the thing go in, inch by inch by
inch, until it was entirely hidden in the body of the little bay mare.
"Your horse seems to know his stuff," Mr. W. said.
Did he ever! He was bucking away like crazy now, and as I saw the powerful muscles in
his back and legs play under his skin, I found myself moving my hips in time to his
thrusts. I stopped myself when I realized what I was doing, though, since I didn't want
my banker neighbor to catch on to the fact that I was really turned on by a horse.
I really was, too and in spades. I felt my breath coming heavily, and I knew perfectly
well that all I would have had to do would have been to press my hand once on my
crotch so as to have myself coming right away. I found myself wishing that Mr. W. and
the groom weren't there so that I could do just that.
The little mare gave a whinny of excitement, and Unearned Increment answered with a
throaty male neigh. Then, he made one final shove with his cock, burying the long, red
thing all the way to the hilt, and I could see from the movement of his muscles, from
the way in which the mare was standing, that he was coming. He pulled his cock out,
and I noticed the long threads of semen hanging from it. Horses have such huge balls!
Surely he must have fired a tremendous amount of the stuff into Sasha's cunt. I
wondered what it would be like for a woman's cunt to have that stuff shot into it in
such quantity.
"I expect I'll be getting a mighty fine foal," Mr. W. said with satisfaction as the stable
boy unhitched his mare and led her into the horsebox.
I had to offer him tea, it's the social rule in the blue grass country, but I felt all the
while like someone who has to take a piss very badly. By that I mean that I was almost
writhing around on my chair in my eagerness to get some pressure on that steamy cunt
of mine.
Finally, Mr. W. left, and I was able to rush up to my bedroom, where I pulled my
clothes down in a frantic hurry. I flopped onto my back on the bed, and then pressed
my hand hard against my cunt Wham! Wham! Wham! Just the feeling of my fingers
there was enough to bring me off, I was so supercharged.
I lay there staring at the ceiling and breathing heavily. The thought of that big horse
and his massive dick just wouldn't go away. I started playing with my cunt again. At
first just in an idle way, without really intending to build myself up to a come again.
But that sort of fooling around has a way of becoming serious, and it wasn't long before
I found my twat really hungry for another bang.
I let my fingertips dance over the surface, gently touching the labia and the clit. I had to
be pretty careful about the clit, because mine, at least, is so incredibly sensitive that it
seems like it's always ready to cause a come on the slightest provocation. And I wanted
to prolong this handjob a while.
As I wormed my fingers up into my cunt, and pushed them apart so as to fill the hole
up as much as possible, I dreamed that I was getting that huge horse dick into me. In
my fantasy it was somehow possible for me to take the whole length of the thing into
me, despite the fact that that would clearly be a complete impossibility in reality.
I was moving my hips rhythmically now, just like I had done for a while, while
watching the horses fuck. Except this time there was no one watching me, and I could
really let myself go. In my mind's eye, I saw that huge animal bucking back and forth,
with the muscles rippling under his taut skin. And my hips moved in perfect time to
what I imagined his rhythm would be if he were fucking me.
I felt myself hang for an instant on the edge of my come, and then a sort of tidal wave
of sensation flooded over me all at once. My hips quivered and shuddered as I came!
Came! Came!
"Horse! Horse! Horse!" I gasped as I felt my cunt contract around the penis that it
longed to have inside it. I like to gasp out the name of my lover when having an
orgasm, but of course, "Unearned increment" is a bit long for that.
When the last spasms had left me, and I had sort of gotten my thoughts together, I felt
sort of sheepish about what I had done. Not really ashamed or anything, you
understand, just kind of sheepish. After all, it did seem pretty weird that I would allow
myself to get all carried away by an animal like that.
"After all," I said to myself, "I would hardly even be able to get much of his prick into
my cunt. Or would I... ?"
I pushed the thought from me and got up to take a shower. "I've got to get myself a
man," I thought. That's the reason that I'm susceptible. to this sort of nutty idea."
Whether that was true or not, there could be no question about just how susceptible to
it I was. Although I tried to think of other things, and tried to keep myself busy by
calling friends on the phone and attending to important business, the image of that
prick of his just wouldn't go away.
Finally, I knew that I had to inspect it at close hand. I'd seen plenty of erect horse cocks
in my time, but somehow I just had to get a good look at this one.
I had him saddled and rode him out into a secluded part of my spread. Part of the
business of unwinding racehorses involves getting them used to normal riding, so the
stable boys didn't think that there was anything particularly odd about what I was
doing.
There's a part of the farm that's pretty far from the house, and where there's a stand of
trees. That should be a nice private place for me to satisfy my curiosity, I thought.
I dismounted and patted the horse on the face. I gave him some sugar and rubbed his
ears. He was a very friendly, relaxed animal, not very typical of his breed, just as his
coat color wasn't. If it hadn't been for his beautiful lines and his fine racetrack record
(second in the Preakness and Belmont, and first in plenty of other events), I would have
almost been tempted to wonder if he was a real thoroughbred.
"Now, fella, you'll like this," I said. I was pretty sure of that, but as I sort of bent under
his belly to get at his prick I was nevertheless glad that horses, unlike mules, are unable
to kick forward.
I took his prick-sheath in my hand and squeezed and caressed it. It felt good and full, if
you know what I mean, and it didn't take long for it to start to feel even fuller, as the
cock started to swell up to its full size.
At first, just the pink tip appeared. But as I rubbed that (and got a sharp neigh of
pleasure for my efforts) more of the cock slid out into the open.
Getting a horse in an erection is a bit like getting some men an erection. Things go
faster and faster as you go along, so that once you start to get some action, it often isn't
long at all until you have a full-scale raging erection on your hands. (Or maybe it
would be more appropriate to say in your hands.) I placed my fingers around the penis
and pressed them tightly together. It was just exactly like squeezing an iron bar. There
was no give to the thing at all.
"I can see why Sasha stood so still and good," I said to the animal. "She was having
such a fantastic time that she was afraid of doing anything that might put you slightly
off of your stride."
The cock looked so exciting that I put away my original idea of just feeling it to a come,
and decided to lick it. I was somewhat tempted by the idea of actually taking it inside
my cunt, but there were two reasons that I decided to wait on that. In the first place,
the thing looked so massive that I was a little bit scared of it, to tell the truth. Every girl
likes the idea of really being stuffed full by good, hard prick-meat, but of course, no one
likes the idea of being ruptured. Secondly, I wasn't quite sure how to arrange a fuck
with the horse. He was so damn high. But blowing him would be a breeze, I figured.
I started out by giving a series of long, loving licks and kisses to the side of his prick,
while I helped myself out of my riding breeches. My cunt was already sending me
signals that told me loud and clear that it didn't mean to be left out of the fun and
games, even if this time it was going to have to pass on the business of actually having
horse-dick shoved up it.
I placed my fingers on my twat at the same moment that I slid my lips over the tip of
the horse's penis.
I couldn't take all of Unearned Increment's increment into my mouth, of course since it
was far too big for that. But I sure put as much in as I possibly could. I had the end of
the thing pressing way, way back against the back of my mouth, almost making me
gag. Well, I didn't mind a bit of gagging, as long as the reason for it was that my
mouth was full of the nicest, hardest dick that any girl has ever been privileged to have
inside her.
I slipped my mouth back and forth along the shaft. Unearned Increment pawed the
ground rather impatiently. I could tell from the way the muscles in his legs were tense
(something that as a horse-lover from way back I could notice at a glance) that he was
very excited. Except for the business of pawing the ground, he was standing very still,
apparently so not to disturb me or put me off my stride.
With my right hand I was playing with my cunt, worming my fingers up my twat,
flicking the clit with my thumb, and doing all sorts of other things like that. With the
other hand I was feeling up the giant, hanging balls.
Unearned Increment's balls would have fascinated me anyway, just by virtue of the fact
that they were so huge. And of course, the knowledge that these balls contained the
sperm that was about to be shot up into my mouth made them all the more fascinating
for me.
To vary the pace, I would sometimes take the lips off of his prick entirely for a second
or two, and kiss and tongue the testicles. Then, too, I would lick the side of the cock.
But always, in the end, I would slide my lips back over the end of the thing to continue
sucking on it.
I could feel the muscles in my back and thighs tense, could tell from the incredible
amount of pussy fluid that was oozing out of my cunt and dribbling down my legs, just
how fantastically turned on I was. My clit was just screaming for attention, and one
reason for that, in addition to the excitement that I felt at having the horse's huge penis
inside my mouth, was that I was really teasing my twat with my fingers.
I'm sort of a tease by nature. I think that everything's better if you have to wait for it.
In fact, I guess that I would have made a good stripper. So instead of just pressing my
fingers against my cunt to make myself come (I had done that earlier that day, but only
because I was out of my mind with come-need from having to wait so long and have
tea with Mr. W.), I simply grazed the surface of my twat lightly with them. I
particularly liked to, send my fingertips circling in slowly towards my frantic clit As the
fingers approached, bit by bit by bit, my clit would become utterly convinced that it was
about to get some really fantastic attention.
Then, at the last moment, I would send my fingers circling on out again after having
either neglected to touch the clit at all, or having just given it the lightest of caresses.
(Of course, anything more than that and I would have been coming on the spot, which
would have been a pity, since I wanted to come at the same moment that the horse did,
if at all possible.
The stiffness of his penis, which had now reached unbelievable proportions, told me
just how fantastically ready he was for his come. And my clit was telling me that it
couldn't afford to wait very much longer either.
I pressed my lips against the prick-tip all the harder, and at the instant that I felt it give
that sort of extra little stiffening that cocks often give right before starting to shoot, I
pressed my fingers hard against my clit.
Bingo! The touch of those fingers, coupled with the sensation of the first massive gob of
horse-spunk splattering against the back of my mouth, was more than enough to get
me over the top. I was coming, and coming really hard, with my pelvis bucking and
heaving to the force of my orgasm, while my fingers continued to play away on the
surface of my agonized cunt.
My come would have seemed more dramatic to me if I hadn't been simply
overwhelmed with the force of the horse's orgasm. If you've never had a horse's dick
coming in your mouth, you just can't believe what it's like, and that's all there is to
that.
Gush! Gush! Gush! My mouth was already totally full, some of the sperm was sliding
down my throat and almost making me choke, and still he was coming in a way that
indicated that he wasn't anywhere near stopping, either.
My lips could feel the ripples of come-energy that pulsed up the length of his penis,
sending the stuff splashing into my mouth.
I couldn't hold any more of the stuff. I had to open my mouth slightly and let some of
it dribble down my chin. There was still plenty more in my mouth, though, and plenty
more coming out of that massive hose of his.
I was utterly dazed. I had never guessed that his balls would contain anything even
remotely like this amount of spunk. And he had already had one shot today, straight
into the cunt of Mr. W.'s little bay pony. Heaven only knows how much stuff he fired
into her!
I took my lips off of his cock as carefully as possible, but that didn't prevent plenty of
his horse-cream from literally sloshing down my chin. When you blow a guy,
sometimes a drop or two dribbles down your chin when you take your mouth off of his
tool. But this was an awful lot more than just a drop. Imagine opening your mouth
when it's full of soup, and you'll have a pretty good idea what it was like for me.
Particularly if you imagine that it's cream of mushroom soup.
The fact that so much had sloshed out didn't mean for an instant that I didn't have very
much left in my mouth. Quite the contrary. There was still a real lake there. I slurped it
around with my tongue for a bit, and then I swallowed it It took a big gulp to get it all
down there was so damn much of the stuff.
I got back onto the horse and rode him back to the farmhouse. I had an awful lot to
think about.
In the first place, it seemed really kind of odd, and worrying, that I had gone and done
something like give a horse a blowjob. On the other hand, I couldn't really say to
myself that I was sorry that I had done it On the contrary, I had had a really good time
The feel of that massive horse-prick in my mouth had been very exciting, and partly as
a result, I had had a very fine come, much better than the ones that I usually get when I
beat myself off.
I'm not the sort of person who likes to make dramatic resolutions, so I didn't tell myself
that I was going to forswear horse sex from that day forth. I just decided to see if I
could maybe find a nice guy before I got too much deeper into all this, since I sensed
that a nice guy was what I really wanted, and that once I had one, I wouldn't find
myself so turned on by this stallion. But I'm a very cautious person by temperament,
and I didn't like the idea that I might find myself attracted to someone simply because I
was half-desperately looking for someone who would distract me from Unearned
Increment Also, I just didn't feel all that ashamed. Like I said, the whole business
seemed pretty odd, and even sort of sick, but it wasn't as if I was convulsed with horror
at the thought of what I had one.
That blowjob had been quite something, and it held me for the rest of the day. That is,
I didn't find any need to beat off again for the rest of the day. Of course, it was getting
on to evening, already...
The next morning, though, when I got out and breathed the fresh air, I couldn't help
thinking that it was a perfect day for sex. And since there wasn't much else in the way
of penises around that I was interested in that meant that it was a good day for equine
sex.
There were plenty of horses that I could have gone with if I had wanted a change from
Unearned Increment, but I decided to stick with him. Like I said, he's a good, steady
animal, and one who's a great deal more sexually oriented than many thoroughbreds
are.
I saddled him up and rode him out to the copse of trees. It was interesting for me to
note, when I dismounted, that his prick was already part of the way out of its sheath.
Clearly, this thicket had strong associations for him from the day before.
this time, I was really tempted to find out what his prick would be like inside my cunt.
All the night before, I had dreamed of all that luscious sperm that he had shot into my
mouth. What would it be like shot up my girl-hole? Wow!
I wanted to move into that slowly, though, and I thought that it would be a good idea
to get the horse really good and excited before going on to something like that, so that
he wouldn't mind all the fumbling and so forth that I would probably have to engage in
while getting into position.
The thing to begin with, I decided, was to have him lick my cunt. I hoped that he
would be interested in doing so. I had seen dogs try and get their heads up women's
skirts to get at their twats, but I wasn't sure if horses had quite that sensitive a sense of
smell, or quite that strong an interest in women's vaginas. Well, there was only one way
of finding out.
I lay on my back, and took hold of the reins. I pulled them down so that his head was
right next to my cunt.
He sort of sniffed at me, and I could see that he was interested, but he didn't seem to
quite have the idea of licking down pat. Horses sniff at mares' cunts, but they don't ever
lick them. It's just a prelude to something else. Well, judging from the way in which
Unearned Increment's penis was sliding farther and farther out of its sheath, he was
plenty interested in that something else. But as for me, I was really curious as to what it
would be like to have him lick my cunt.
Fortunately, I had thought of the possibility that he might need coaxing, and I had
thought out a plan to take care of the difficulty. I had brought some sugar, and I held a
lump out to him. Needless to say, he was very interested, and slurped it up with his
tongue. I held a second lump out, this time closer to my cunt. He took that with his
tongue, too. The third lump I held on my cunt, so that as he licked it, he licked my
cunt and got a taste of my cunt-juices. Hopefully, he would want to come back for
more.
Slurp! Yep, I had been right, he was interested in coming back for another taste of my
cunt. Of course, I had kind of encouraged him to do so by crushing the cube against
my twat and leaving little bits of it actually inside my hole, so that as it melted it made
my cunt taste sweet, but the sugar wasn't the real reason that he was licking now. I
could tell from the sound of his heavy breathing, and from the perfectly frantic look of
rigidity that his cock had, that he was very excited sexually, und that this cunt-lapping
was a real turn-on for him. Horses may not naturally lick cunt, but give a stallion a
taste of it, and you'll find that he's very excited by the idea.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! If he was excited, you can imagine the state I was in, with that
massive horse-tongue sliding back and forth all over my cunt! A horse's tongue isn't
very flexible, and that means that it can't pry into little nooks and crannies in the way
that a guy's tongue can, but because it's so massive, every lick means that an awful lot
of pressure is applied to the whole surface area of the cunt. In other words, a horse's
tongue feels very, very nice indeed on that particular part of female anatomy!
He couldn't do anything to my tits, of course, which was a pity, since I really love tit
action. I was able to supplement his efforts with my own hands, though, and my hands
are very practiced in the art of giving pleasure to my breasts.
I cupped the soft things and sort of moved them around in lazy circles on my chest.
Then, I took my hands off of them and trailed the fingers back and forth over the
surface with the same sort of teasing motion that I had used to such effect with my
cunt.
That the tits really liked that was made abundantly clear by the way in which my
nipples swelled up to about three times their former size.
I touched them lightly with my fingertips, and that made my shoulders shudder. My
breasts had become so incredibly sensitive that I could hardly believe it.
I teased the aureoles a bit, running my fingernails back and forth over the dividing line
where the white skin of the rest of the breast gave way to the pink of the aureole.
All of that above-the-waist action was very nice, but it couldn't hold a candle to the
kind of wild bonfire that the big racehorse was lighting below my waist.
Slurp! Slosh! Slurp! I could easily hear the tongue slide back and forth, since my cunt
was totally inundated by both my own fast-flowing cunt-juices, and all the horse-saliva
that was coming from Unearned Increment's mouth.
I could feel his hot breath on my cunt too. He was breathing very heavily through his
nostrils, which were right close to some of the most tender and delicate parts of my
twat. That turned me on too, because only a horse would breathe like that, and it was
almost the idea that I was fucking with a horse which was the most exciting thing of all.
I was arching my back in passion now, and my breath was coming just about as heavily
as the horse's was. I could feel my muscles tense, feel my nerves wind up in knots as I
got ready for the come.
Then, all of a sudden, my pelvis was bucking and heaving against the horse's face. That
didn't bother Unearned Increment, though. He so dug the taste of my pussy fluid that
he just kept lapping and lapping away, even as my hips exploded under him in the
most incredible come that I had had in years!
Brrrrrrrt! I felt like I was unwinding all at once, as shiver after shiver after shiver 
raced down my spine and down the soggy insides of my palpitating cunt.
Finally, the come was over, and I lay there panting for breath. It had been just fantastic,
and it took me a second or two to realize that I still had other things to do.
More accurately, I had one other thing to do: get the horse's dick off. He had given me
a good tonguing, without getting much of anything in return, and I did not intend to
be a selfish, take-and-never-give sort of bitch.
And, of course, I was burning with curiosity to see what that horse-prick would feel like
inside me. Talk about killing two birds with one stone.
The real problem that I faced with the horse's cock was not the size of the cock itself, I
realized, after getting to my feet and examining the thing a bit. A baby's head must be
at least three times thicker than a horse's cock. Four times maybe. So, even making
allowance for the fact that childbirth is a pretty difficult and painful experience, actually
taking the horse's cock in my cunt should be pretty filling, but not dangerous, not
painful, and in fact very pleasurable.
It went without saying that there was absolutely no chance at all of my taking the
whole length of the cock in my vagina. It was almost two times too long for me to be
able to contemplate anything like that. But that shouldn't matter, since after all, the
most sensitive part of a penis is always the tip. As long as that was inside me, the horse
and I should both be haying a very good time.
No, the real problem had nothing to do with the size of the horse's prick. It was the
question of the horse's height. How was I going to get myself up there under the
horse's belly so that I was on a level where the cock could reach me?
If I was back in the stable, I could have arranged a table or something for me to lie on,
but that was hardly possible here in this copse of trees. I had to find some other
solution.
Then, I noticed an old stump that was about the right height. I thought for a moment,
then led the horse so that the stump was underneath him right about where the stirrups
hang down from the saddle.
I got under the big thoroughbred, after throwing the stirrups over the saddle. This
shortened them up much more than any strap-adjustments could have done.
Then, I sort of hung from my shoulders, holding onto the stirrups. I swung my legs up,
and crossed them over the back of the horse, locking the heels together.
Hanging there in this fashion would have been very, very uncomfortable if it hadn't
been for the stump. In fact, my shoulder blades were resting on the stump, so that all
my hands had to do as they clutched the stirrup was to provide a certain amount of
stability. Thus, only half of my body was being supported by my legs, and the strain
there was a good deal less.
I was naked, of course and after getting used to the position, I sort of scooted on down
towards the horse's massive cock.
It was pointing at the most convenient angle, but that didn't matter. With my weight
resting largely on the stump, I was able to temporarily remove my right hand from the
stirrup-iron that it was holding, and use it to guide the tip of the horse's prick so that it
was resting inside the entrance to my vagina.
I paused a moment, savoring the fuck that I was about to have, and maybe worrying a
bit, too, about the size of the cock that I was planning to take inside me. Then, with a
sudden surge of resolution, I worked my hips down so that the tip of his prick slid on
into my cunt.
Man! Talk about big! I've had men's cunts of all sizes inside me, but you'd better
believe that none of them came at all close to matching the size of that big horse-prick.
It was so thick that I could really feel myself stretch, and even with the tips of it resting
against the entrance to my womb, I knew that there was plenty more outside.
After resting for a second, I started to slide my hips up and down over the animal's
cock.
It was kind of hard going, at first, due to the creature's size, but I'm nothing if not a
wet female, so it wasn't long until I had secreted so much pussy fluid that it was fairly
easy for me to move that twat of mine back and forth over the mighty cock.
Unearned Increment was breathing heavily, and I could see that he was tossing his tail
about, but the rest of him was staying very, very still.
Back... forth... back... forth – I could hardly believe that I had this horse's dick stuck
inside me in just the same way that it had been stuck inside Mr. W.'s little mare.
"Fucked by a horse! I'm being fucked by a horse!" I said to myself as the undulations of
my stomach muscles moved my lower body back and forth, sliding the slippery walls of
my cunt over the horse's huge penis.
My cunt was clutching at the thing now really hard, though I guess that it's a little
difficult to talk of clutching, when your cunt is so totally filled with cock and stretched
by it that there's no real way that it can not press hard against the penis in question.
I was getting worked up rather fast. My legs were sort of tired already (don't forget, it
was my arms that were getting the major benefit from the presence of the stump), but I
didn't mind that. As long as I could have this wonderful feeling of being just totally
crammed and stuffed with prick, there was very little that I was going to mind.
I wished that there was some way to play with my tits, but of course there was not.
Well, you can't have everything.
I could tell from the tension of my whole body that I was not at all far away from a
come. I just had to give the horse's penis a few more strokes. Just a few more strokes...
Back...
Forth...
Back...
Forth...
Something told me that the next shove would do it, that the next shove would end this
delicious but also agonizing game of cat-and-mouse and allow us to get on to the
business at hand, namely coming.
I moved my cunt way, way back, so that I uncovered just about all of the horse's dick.
Then, I shoved back over it, very, very slowly...
On... on... on...
I had the tip of his cock almost up as far as it could go when all of a sudden my cunt
started clutching spasmodically at the big rod.
That was all it needed, and it immediately erupted in a wild series of pulsating gushes
that sent spurt after spurt of horse cream on up into me.
And do I mean into me! There was literally so much power in that cock of his that I
could feel the stuff splatter against the back of my womb!"
He was shooting, and shooting, and shooting, and though my little cunt couldn't do
anything one half that dramatic, it was still giving his rod a pretty good run for its
money!
When he finally stopped, I felt totally fucked out. I eased my cunt off of his now
softening prick, and then I climbed out from under him and felt the come drain out of
my cunt. It was just amazing how much sperm he had shot into me. I guess that mares
must have big cunts. And of course, since they are standing on all fours, the stuff
doesn't have any chance to really drain out of them.
I felt more fucked than I had ever felt in the entire course of my life. I could hardly
believe that I had had that big, luscious prick up my cunt. Sure, my cunt could still feel
the way in which it had been stretched, but even so, the whole business was kind of
unbelievable. Unbelievable but satisfying.
After walking around in little circles for a while to try and get my breath back, I
mounted and rode the big thoroughbred back to my house. It seemed sort of odd to be
riding him, after he had so thoroughly ridden me.
One of the troubles with horses for sexual partners is that they're not always
conveniently available, even if, like me, the woman happens to own a stud farm. After
all, horses are outdoors animals. I guess that you could have sex with a horse in its stall,
but all the stable boys would wonder why you had sent them out. Besides, the sense of
freedom and adventure that you got while riding was part of the whole picture. That
meant that when it rained, I just didn't have anything nice lined up for my cunt.
Or at least, I didn't have anything lined up for my cunt until I thought of Ralph.
Ralph is a big German shepherd. He belongs to the couple who work for me as cook
and head groom. He spends most of his time sleeping in the kitchen, and he and I have
always gotten along perfectly well together.
I took Ralph and led him to my bedroom while no-one was looking.
There, without more ado, I got onto my hands and knees so as to present him with my
cunt.
He must be a very sexy dog, or something, because he certainly didn"t need prompting.
His paws went up onto my back, and then he sidled up to me and stuck his cock into
my vagina.
Of course, even a German shepherd's cock is nothing compared in size to a horse's, and
it's even markedly smaller than most men's. But that sure doesn't mean that there can't
be something very enjoyable about it nevertheless.
After all, the position was a great deal less difficult than the one I had used with
Unearned Increment, and besides, he was willing to do all of the work. I just had to
keep kneeling there, and he continued to buck his rod back and forth inside me with
those crazy, super-regular strokes that he had.
Also, my tits were both within reach. Clearly, I had to support my body on one hand or
the other, but that didn't mean that the one that was free couldn't perfectly well give
my tits the time of their life. I pressed the dangling things, made them swing from side
to side, and did all sorts of other nice things for them. They responded by getting very
excited, with the nipples swelled up like mad.
In-out-in-out-in-out... There really was something about the way Ralph made his
moves. Always the same rather jerky strokes at the same tempo. But each one of them
pulled my labia tantalizingly across my clit, so I certainly wasn't complaining.
I was almost there... almost... almost...
Then, a final thrust (indistinguishable from all the others that I had received,) and I was
coming hard! My hips rocked freely, having nothing on them, and I pressed my tits as
hard against my chest as I possibly could.
Meanwhile, his cock was shooting its wad into me, and though it was pretty
insignificant compared to the tidal wave that a horse can dispose of, it was pretty nice
nevertheless...
As soon as Ralph was finished, he just pulled on out. I guess dogs work on instinct
when they fuck, and I suppose that the instinct isn't based on much more than
reproduction. Once the male dog has had his come, that's it He isn't interested any
more, and he simply pulls out his cock, which quickly softens up. I would have perhaps
preferred for him to have left his rod in me a while longer, but I knew that there was
no point in me demanding the impossible.
The business with Unearned Increment and Ralph continued for some time, until I met
Ernest.
He and I were both dinner party guests, and I guess that in a sense I was his "date",
though there was nothing formally arranged. You know how it is, though. When people
have single friends they like, they often invite them to their houses in mixed pairs.
Well, I didn't have any objection, since it had been a long time since I had had a guy to
be interested in.
Ernest and I hit it Off at once, and we started seeing some more of each other in the
weeks that followed. I'm normally pretty uptight about the idea that a guy might be a
phony just interested in my money, but in Ernest's case, I didn't have a thing to worry
about. He was wealthy himself, and besides, everything about him made me want to
trust him.
We're both grown people, so of course it isn't surprising that it wasn't all that long
before we wound up in bed with one anther. Ernest had taken me to town to a nice
restaurant, and had then driven me home. I had suggested that he come in for a
nightcap, and somehow, his hands just naturally ended up on my tits.
We kissed, and as his tongue met mine, I felt my clit give a frantic little surge of
passion. I wanted and needed this guy!
He had my dress off in no time, and gently explored my body, running his hands over
it like a connoisseur running his hands lightly over a piece of Sevres porcelain.
I could hardly wait for him to get on with the fuck, but of course I wanted him to call
the shots, and he was doing a beautiful job of it. After feeling my tits to a state of
frantic hardness, he got on top of me and slipped his penis into me.
Smaller than a horse's prick, bigger than a dog's! I guess there isn't really much doubt
that a man's cock is the right size for a woman's cunt. But more important than that to
me was the wonderful loving way in which he inserted it and started to move it back
and forth. This wasn't a matter of blind instinct, but of real affection seeking to express
itself and doing so well.
In... out... in... out... He had a nice, easy rhythm that made me feel wonderfully secure
and wonderfully fucked at the same time. My body responded in kind, undulating
smoothly under him as he let me have his cock.
Man! This technique of his was really getting to me. I could tell that he would have me
coming in no time. He didn't seem to be in any particular hurry, though. He was
perfectly confident of his ability to give me a nice come, and he knew full well that I
wanted this wonderful fuck to go on for as long as it possibly could.
In... out... in... out...
I felt my body gather itself for the orgasm, felt my nerves tune up like the violins in an
orchestra, and then ...
Then...
COME! COME! COME! My body erupted in a wild volcano of unleashed female
passion... and love! My hips bucked and heaved my cunt quivered and shuddered, and I
felt like I was going to tear myself apart with the force of my frantic orgasm.
And after we were finished, instead of just pulling right on out like a dog would, he left
his cock in me for a while, so that I could feel it soften up slightly. I emphasize the
word slightly, because it was obvious that as long as the thing was there in my tight
vagina, it was never going to get really soft.
We had some drinks and chatted, and then we sixty-nined. His prick felt heavenly in
my mouth, and he certainly gave a good workout to my cunt with his tongue. He said I
had a nice cunt, and judging from the sounds he made with his nostrils, he certainly
liked the smell of it.
In short, even though the fucks that I had had with the animals had been pretty nice,
these now that I was getting from Ernest were another order of magnitude entirely.
When, a week ago, he asked me to marry him, I would have jumped at the chance if it
hadn't been for the guilty feelings that I have about the bestiality. Not intense guilt
feelings, but nagging ones. And because I'm so in love with Ernest, I want to be sure
that I am worthy of him. Above all, this means to me that I won't be tempted to engage
in animal sex some time in the future.
The answer to Janet R.'s question as to whether or not she would be liable to relapse
into bestiality when married to Ernest could be given a very simple and straightforward
answer: no. Everything about her account suggests her strong preference for sex with
humans to sex with animals. She turned to the latter because of sexual deprivation.
And, as we shall see in the later cases, too, sexual deprivation is often a very important
factor in pushing people into engaging in behavior which they consider abnormal and
wrong. Wilma T., the pet-shop owner's wife, was an excellent case in point.
In fact, there is every reason to believe that Janet R.'s sexual tastes are very mature. By
that I mean that she has a strong understanding of the fundamental principle that
although sex as a purely physical enjoyment can be very nice, and should not be
despised, the real pleasure of sex comes when it is allied to a strong affection for the
sexual partner. This is not just old-fashioned moralizing on my part. It is a matter of
fact, and I speak confidently by virtue of haying personally witnessed many different
examples of sexual relationships, and many different states of happiness. Indeed, it is
precisely the absence of any real possibility of emotional commitment that makes
bestiality so limiting compared to other forms of so-called deviant behavior.
But if Janet R.'s sexual tastes are fundamentally sound, this did not mean that she could
not benefit from a certain amount of therapy. In the first place, the guilt which she felt
could possibly have interfered with her happiness in marriage. Nothing is more
destructive than the feeling that one is not worthy of one's partner. It just causes the
partner to be resented, and eventually hated by the person who feels unworthy. The
reader will perhaps have noticed that Janet R.'s guilt emerged gradually. At first, she felt
very little of it. This is not to be wondered at. When she first had sex with the stallion,
she was so excited to be getting some sexual action again after a long period of
deprivation that any guilt feelings that she would otherwise have had were simply
repressed, since they would have otherwise gotten in the way of the newfound pleasure.
But as the novelty of the situation, the relief at having at last found some kind of
partner, wore off the guilt feelings were able to come to the floor. They were of course
intensified by her meeting of Ernest and subsequent desire to be worthy of him.
I felt that her concern on her part with being worthy of Ernest might be somewhat
excessive, and after some more sessions, I concluded that she did indeed have a
somewhat weak sense of self-esteem. Her very fear of fortune hunters suggested that
deep down, she did not think it very likely that many men would be interested in her
for herself. The very bestiality had, perhaps, elements of intentional self-degradation.
Fortunately, in therapy, it was possible to give her a new sense of self-worth, and to
eliminate the guilt feelings which she felt in regard to the bestiality which she had
engaged in. She no longer worried that she might not be worthy of Ernest, and there is
every reason to hope that their marriage will be a long and happy one.


Case History 3

Eve T. was a pretty fifteen-year-old whom I met at a time that I was working one day a
week as a psychologist-counselor for a large high-school. She had pale skin, jet black
hair, and huge brown eyes. There was a very nervous look in the eyes, and I got the
impression that she rather regretted having come to see me. Whatever she had on her
mind must be something that she was rather ashamed of revealing to anyone else.
"Well, Eve, what can I do for you?" I asked her with a smile. I suspected that unless I
made the first overtures, she might just sit there the whole hour without saying much of
anything.
And from her obvious nervousness I guessed that she was quite possibly in need of
help.
"Well, Doctor," she said, "it's just that I've been having trouble sleeping, and
nightmares, and..."
Her voice trailed off. It was obvious that she was handing me a line of bullshit, and she
couldn't make up her mind whether she wanted to or not.
"Eve," I said, "you made this appointment voluntarily, and you can break it voluntarily,
too. Nothing's to prevent you from walking out of that door. But if you made it, it was
because you had something on your mind, something that was really worrying you,
right?"
"Right..." she said, looking down at the floor.
"And don't you think that maybe it would be better to give me a chance to look at that
thing, whatever it is, so that I can see if maybe I can arrange for it to not bother you
any more?" She looked at me very intently, and her lower lip was trembling. It was
obvious that she was hopelessly torn between her desire for help and her fear of telling
anyone her terrible secret.
Then, suddenly, she blurted out, "I fuck with dogs! I fuck with them! I have their pricks
in my cunt! And it's all my parents' fault!"
She buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably. I let her cry, because I
think that crying is one of man's best safety valves. When the sobs had subsided a bit, I
said to her, "you know, Eve, there are lots of girls whom I've met who do just exactly
the same thing."
The look in her eyes told me how desperately she wanted to believe me, and how little
she dared do so.
"What is more," I went on, "I've been able to help most of those girls and women."
"So that they don't want to fuck with animals any more?" she asked, tears continuing to
pour down her pale cheeks.
"So that they don't want to fuck with animals any more," I assured her. "But for me to
help them, they had to do something first which many of them found rather difficult."
"W-what was that?"
"They had to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. That's the
only way that a psychotherapist can do any good to anyone: if he knows absolutely all
the facts.
"O-okay, Doctor," Eve said, and after gulping and glancing for a moment at the ceiling,
she began her account...
Like I said earlier, Doctor, it's my parents' fault that I'm into all this, or it's their fault
to a certain extent, anyway. I guess I don't have any right to try and put all the blame
on them.
The thing is that it's so confusing when you have parents who tell you to do one thing,
and then act in a completely contradictory fashion. My parents have always been fairly
strict with me when it came to dating and things like that. They wouldn't let me go out
with boys that they really disapproved of, and they always were very insistent that I get
in at a certain time. I guess I sometimes found these restrictions sort of annoying, since
a lot of my friends had more freedom than I did, but my parents weren't really
unreasonable or anything, and I figured that if they were a bit strict with me, it was
because they loved me and wanted to make sure that nothing bad ever happened to me.
The thing was that about three or four months ago, they started acting really odd. I
mean, they were very nervous about he mail. It used to be that they didn't much care
who went and picked it up at the mailbox, but now they seemed very anxious to get to
it before I did. Once or twice, when I did get it, I noticed sort of strange envelopes.
They had numbers written in on the bottom corner, and they were addressed with a
different typewriter than the one used to put the return address on. Sometimes, the
return address would be written in pen, but the address itself would be typed. And
typed with a business machine, you know, the kind that makes a very neat impression.
It may seem that I must have been pretty nosy to notice all these things, but the way
they had been acting so weirdly about the mail had really aroused my curiosity. It
seemed that something must be going on.
They also seemed to be getting less strict about the rules for my dates, but there was a
lot of vacillation. Like my father would say, "your curfew has been extended by an
hour, and then mom would look at him with a "do you think that's a good idea?" look
before suddenly changing the expression on her face, as if she'd just remembered
something or thought of something.
I'm a pretty curious sort of girl, and I have to admit that all this mystery was really
driving me nuts. I mean, what was it that they were up to?
I got my chance to find out a month ago. I hadn't really been planning to go out, but
my dad said to me, "are you going on a date tonight?"
"I don't know," I said. "Charlie S. asked me to go to the movies with him, but I'm
feeling kind of tired."
"Why don't you go," dad said. "It'll do you good to get out. And besides, if you're
feeling tired, you might be disturbed by some rather noisy friends that may come over."
"Okay," I said, but I didn't have any intention at all of going out. I pretended to call
Charlie, but I kept my finger on the bar of the telephone while I did so. The way in
which they wanted me out of the house struck me as so mysterious that I just had to
find out once and for all what was going on.
I left the house, telling my parents that Charlie and I were going to meet downtown,
since his car was broken. Then, I waited a little way down the street.
A big auto pulled up into the driveway, and a couple got out. Not bad looking people,
about the same age as mom and dad.
They went inside, and I went around to the window looking in on the living room.
They had closed the curtains, so I couldn't see anything.
There's a fire-escape leading up to my room, and I went up it and climbed in the
window. Then, I crept along the darkened upstairs hall to the top of the stairs. Lying on
my stomach, I could get a pretty good view of the downstairs without there being very
much danger that my parents would see me. There's a bathroom on the first floor, so it
didn't seem very likely to me that anyone would be wanting to come upstairs.
At first, I thought that everything was perfectly normal, and that these were just regular
friends whom my parents had invited over. They were just sitting and drinking and
talking. So you can imagine my surprise when all of a sudden the man, whose name
was Eric, reached over and slid his hand up my mom's skirt. While dad was looking on
and not objecting in the least.
"My God, it's a wife-swapping party!" I said to myself. I had heard of such things, but I
certainly hadn't imagined for a moment that my parents would be involved in such a
setup. Well, the fact that Eric had my mom's dress unzipped and was removing her bra
indicated just how wrong I was on that particular score!
Dad had already taken Ruth's blouse off – Ruth was the name of the strange woman –
and was sucking away on her nipples as if he almost hoped to get some milk from
them. You can imagine how surprised I was when he took his mouth away and I saw
some milk actually dripping down her tits!
"Mmmm," Dad said, "you're right, Eric, nursing is something else again."
"I think so," Eric said. "That's why after our last child was weaned six years ago, I
decided to take his place at Ruth's breast. As you know, a woman continues to produce
milk as long as there is someone to suck on her tits regularly."
"And you'd better believe that it's pretty nice for me," Ruth purred. "Of course, in some
ways, it's a bit inconvenient for me to always have milk in my breasts, but when I feel
someone nursing, it makes up for the inconvenience in spades!
"And," Eric said, "you know how doctors are always telling nursing women to be
careful what they eat and drink because it winds up in the milk? Well, you should have
a taste of Ruth after she's had three martinis!"
I can't really describe my emotions. I was heartsick, but in a way, also excited. It was
disgusting, the way that these hypocritical parents of mine had always made such a big
thing about how I should be good and then gotten involved in a totally decadent scene
like this. But I couldn't help noticing a definite tingling in my twat. My clit was
stiffening up, and my panties were getting very definitely wet.
Dad had had enough of nursing from Ruth, I guess, because he got on top of her and
started to fuck. As for mom, she was top-riding Eric, and it was obvious from their
grunts and groans that they were both having a whale of a good time.
I had my hand on my crotch now and was feeling up my cunt I wasn't doing it on
purpose so much as instinctively. I just happened to find that I was pressing and
kneading my cuntlips, and worming my fingers up my vagina as far as they would go.
That felt good, and even though I was disgusted at myself for being turned on at this
scene of parental depravity, I was turned on nevertheless. I rubbed my thumb against
my clit and that was enough to get me off. I shuddered and trembled with the force of
my come, and try though I might, I couldn't prevent myself letting out a gasp of
ecstasy. That didn't matter, though. They were making so much noise down there that
there was about zero chance of their herring me.
Come! Come! Come! My pelvis bucked and heaved as I continued to play with my
weltering pussy. And the four people downstairs were coming too, making loud noises
and going ape-shit When the last spasm of excitement had flowed out of my body, I
found myself almost sick. Sick at the thought of what I had discovered about my
parents, and sick at the arousal that the discovery had caused in me. One thing was
certain, and that was that I certainly wasn't any better than they were.
I got to my feet, and went to my bedroom. From there, I climbed down the fire escape
and walked off into the darkness. I had to pretend that I was on a date with Charlie,
had to wait until the time I had told my parents that I would be hone. What a farce
And if I had gone on a date with Charlie, I would have considered myself really daring
if I had allowed him to give me a French kiss!
It was all clear now. My parents must get in contact with their playmates through some
kind of central forwarding organization that addressed the envelopes so that everyone's
incognito was pretty well preserved, at least at first. That was why they were so afraid of
my seeing the envelopes, which looked so weird and had on them the return addresses
of people I'd never heard of.
I wandered through the streets of the town for quite a while, trying to decide what to
do and what to think. I even contemplated running away, but I rejected that as
impractical and unlikely to help matters much.
"Have a nice time?" my dad asked me as I came in the door.
"Not bad," I said. "How were your noisy friends?"
"Noisy, but you know what social obligations are," my mother said. What a line of
bullshit. I really resented being lied to like that so much that I was tempted to tell them
that I knew everything about what they were up to, but I finally restrained myself.
I went up to my room, and found Tsar Nicholas, my Russian wolfhound.
"I guess that you're about the only person I can trust," I said to him. "And I guess that
you deserve the name person a lot more than some people whom I know.
I lay on the bed and buried my face in the pillow. Then, suddenly, I felt a very exciting
pressure on my cunt.
It was Tsar Nicholas, who had forced his head up my dress and was now nuzzling at
my panties. You know how dogs are about women sometimes, Doctor, and as a matter
of fact, Tsar Nicholas has always been kind of bad about that. Kind of an
embarrassment in public. But this was the first time that he had ever actually gotten his
head up my dress.
I guessed that the reason for that was that my panties were still damp from the pussy
fluid that must have dripped out while I was feeling myself up. I had my panties down
to do that, but of course, my cunt was still wet when I pulled the things up. I had felt
too dispirited to dry myself with toilet paper or anything like that. So, I guess that the
female smell must have been intense enough to really drive the dog wild.
For a moment I was annoyed, but there was no getting around the fact that that tongue
and nose felt awfully good pressing against my crotch, even though my panties were in
the way.
"That would really be one for mom and dad and their kinky friends, I said to myself. "I
wonder if they've tried dogs? Maybe I should suggest it to them."
I was being sarcastic, of course, and one reason that I was, was that the action I was
getting from the dog did so strongly remind me of the decadent fun and games that I
had seen them get up to earlier that evening.
I thought of pushing the Russian wolfhound's face away from the cunt, but I decided
against it After all, it was the sort of thing that I deserved, seeing as I appeared to enjoy
watching my parents' adultery so much, and besides, it felt good.
"They want me to be such a good little girl," I said, "but if that's the way that they're
going to behave, I certainly don't see any obligation on my part to live up to those
particular expectations.
Making up my mind suddenly, I rolled over, hitched up my skirt and pulled down my
panties. Then I spread my legs, giving the dog a big, inviting view of my cunt.
"Go on, boy," I said, "why don't you lick it? Really tongue me off? You'd like that,
wouldn't you, boy, and don't think that I wouldn't too!"
That was an invitation that didn't need repeating. Maybe Tsar Nicholas couldn't really
understand my words, but he could sure understand that open expanse of pink female
sexual skin, and the womanly odors emanating from it He could certainly understand
the droplets of pussy fluid that were glistening on my twat.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! His tongue started to really go to town on my agonized cunt.
I pulled open the buttons to my dress, and reached in to cup the tits. There was still my
bra in the way (my parents have always insisted that I wear a bra) but I was able to
unhook that in the back. Because of the shoulder-straps, I wasn't able to get the stupid
thing all the way off, but that sure didn't matter. As long as it was loose enough for my
hands to get an unimpeded access to the soft and sensitive globes.
I cupped the things and rubbed my palms across the nipples. The latter were already
hard, but it didn't take very much more of that action for them to get a good deal
harder. The nubs swelled up to about three times their size, and became so sensitive
that it was almost agony for them to be touched. That didn't mean that they didn't
want to be touched, however, or that I didn't give them plenty of touching.
Slosh! Slosh! Slosh! I could have sworn that the dog was thirsty, he was lapping away
on my cunt-juices so energetically. I had never had my cunt lapped before, since I'd
always tried to be a good girl like I thought my parents wanted. Well, it was a new
experience that really opened my eyes. If sex was this neat, then maybe they were right
to get involved in the swinging scene.
Tsar Nicholas's tongue was everywhere. It curled over my labia, grazed my clit, and
even wormed its way on up into my vagina itself. And every time that it touched me, I
thought that I was going to come. It was so soft and silky and smooth!
I glanced at the animal's prick-sheath and saw that the cock was all the way out of the
sheath and into the open. Because Russian wolfhounds have such long hair, it was a bit
difficult for me to see all of his cock, but the red skin was visible to a certain degree
through the hair.
I was arching my back in passion now, my forehead was covered with sweat, and my
head was tossing from side to side. I was wound up more now than I had ever been,
more even than when I had watched my parents engage in that foursome.
"Got to come! Got to come! Got to come!" I muttered over and over again under my
breath as I felt that dog-tongue do its stuff to my poor twat.
Then, all of a sudden, I felt my body go kind of numb for a second before a tidal wave
of excitement suddenly flooded through it.
I was coming! Man oh man, was I ever coming! I gasped and grunted with excitement
as I felt the come-spasm slam through my heaving, bucking body.
Ah! Ah! AHHHHHHH! I moaned as the final spasm left me. Then, I was lying there
on the bed, gasping for breath.
I had had my cunt licked by a dog. I had had my cunt licked by a dog. I had had my
cunt licked by a dog. The strange thought kept going through my mind like a phrase
from a stuck record. I just couldn't believe what I had done.
I felt sort of sheepish, too. I mean, that business of beating off while watching my
parents engage in that foursome had been bad enough, but this was really kinky.
The trouble was, too, that I couldn't just discontinue this session. Tsar Nicholas was
continuing to lick away frantically at my twat, and it was perfectly clear why to anyone
who cared to give a glance in the direction of his prick. The thing was incredibly
swollen, and looked like it was so hard that it must hurt. After having him lick my cunt
like that, it would be really bitchy and selfish of me to just leave him high and dry
without doing anything to alleviate the tension in that poor cock of his.
I could always suck on it, or even let it into my cunt, but I wasn't at all sure that I
really wanted to do either of those two things. Like I said, I felt pretty bad just about
letting him lick my cunt. Getting his spunk out of his balls was just a chore that I had
to perform, and it was one that I planned on taking care of as simply as the situation
allowed.
I reached out and took the cock in my right hand. My hand trembled slightly as I did
so. There was something so male about that member of his! Finally, though, I did put
my finger around it, and gave a gentle squeeze.
Tsar Nicholas let out a yelp that was obviously a yelp of pleasure.
"Like that, don't you, boy?" I asked him. Well, let's see what else you might like."
I started to run my hand up and down the length of the cock. Like I said, I was a bit
hesitant at first, but the more I did it, the more accustomed to the idea I became In fact,
all of my earlier sheepishness was starting to give way to a new state of sexual
excitation. I was almost sorry that I had not decided to lick and suck the big prick.
After all, it did look pretty exciting.
As it was, though the dog was so incredibly worked up that I wouldn't have had much
time to enjoy his cock even if I had put it in my mouth. All I did was rub it about three
times, and it started to spew cock-juice all over the bedspread and all over my hand.
"I guess that you needed that, huh, fellah?"
I took my hand off of the cock and looked at the grayish stuff covering it. On an
impulse, I licked at it, and noticed that it tasted slightly salty.
"So that's spunk," I said to myself. The taste wasn't all that exceptional, but I guess the
idea that it had come from a pair of balls made it seem pretty special, and since I had to
admit that licking it really kind of turned me on.
My cunt was quite excited now that I had given my dog a handjob, but I decided not to
beat off again. I was sort of disgusted with myself for allowing myself to get carried
away to the point of having my cunt licked by a dog.
I got into bed and tried to get to sleep, but it wasn't easy. I kept thinking about all the
weird things that I had seen that day, and the weird ones that I had done, too. I was
very unhappy. That morning, everything had seemed pretty straightforward. It's true
that I had been kind of puzzled by the weird letters and things that my parents had
been getting, but I hadn't for a minute dreamed that they were members of some sort
of swap club. Now I knew that they were a bunch of degenerates, and judging from my
behavior, I had to class myself in pretty much the same league.
I guess I seemed pretty depressed at the breakfast table the next morning, because my
father asked if there was anything wrong. I told him there wasn't. In fact, I was very
tempted to blurt out everything, but I didn't I knew that it would hurt my parents
terribly if they knew that I knew all about their secret sex life. And for all their faults, I
really love them. Besides, I said to myself, who was I to judge them?
I moped around the whole day, and Charlie, with whom I do in fact go out from time
to time, also asked me if anything was wrong. I said no, and he asked if I would like to
go out to the movies with him that evening.
It seemed to me that that might take my mind off of my problems a bit, so I agreed.
Charlie's a nice guy, but a bit hungry, if you know what I mean. It's always a bit of a
problem keeping him at arms length. This time, though, when we were in his car in our
favorite make-out spot, I just didn't have the energy to try and hold him off. Besides, it
all seemed so pointless to hold up a big fake moral standard when the people I had
gotten it from liked to engage in wife-swapping parties, and the new game that I had
started to engage in featured having my pet lick my twat!
Charlie put his hands on my tits, expecting the usual objection that I made. Instead, I
just said, "mmmmm, that feels so nice!"
Talk about showing a red flag to a bull. That "mmmmm" of mine was certainly all the
encouragement that Charlie needed. He started fondling my tits vigorously, and I had
to admit that the sensation was a really nice one.
My clit started to swell up, and I felt a tell-tale dampness around the crouch of my
panties. There was no doubt about it. I wanted just exactly what Charlie wanted,
namely a nice fuck!
Charlie slid his hand under my sweater so that he could feel the tits up under my bra.
"Why waste time?" I purred. I lifted my sweater up over my head, and then I undid my
bra. Charlie was in seventh heaven. He really likes me, and I guess he had just about
reconciled himself to the idea that he wasn't going to be able to get much action out of
me. But here I was, showing myself more than willing to share my body with him.
In fact he was so surprised that he almost a little bit taken aback. But not so taken
aback that he wasn't able to adjust to the new situation pretty fast. He ran a hand up
the inside of my thigh and laid it on my cunt. That was something that he would have
never dared do before because he would have known how much I would have objected.
Well, this time my only objection was that he wasn't going fast enough to suit me.
Charlie knows his stuff, though, and I had to admit that I really liked the way in which
he worked my cunt through the wet fabric of panties. Knowing that the panties didn't
offer any defense at all was quite a turn-on in and of itself.
He pulled the garment down, and slid his fingers up my hole. He pushed them apart,
so as to open up my cunt. I really dug the feeling of those finger-joints on the cuntwalls.
I reached over and grabbed his zipper. Down it came and the cock punched out hard
against the white fabric of his underpants.
I pulled the underpants down too, and the penis bobbed out into the open, expanding
to its full length as it did so.
"You want it?" he asked. I got the impression that that was a real question, and that
Charlie was giving me a last chance to back out if I wanted to. He's that kind of guy. In
fact, that little gesture of consideration almost made me wonder if I was worthy of him.
Worthy or not, my cunt needed cock.
"Stick it in me!" I gasped desperately, and he did so. I was lying on the car seat now
with the door open and my legs projecting part-way outside.
I gave a gasp as I felt the cock go sliding into pie. It was so big and firm, and just being
filled and penetrated like that hade me feel so deliciously female!
He rested with his cock inside me for a moment, I think partly so that I could enjoy the
sensation of his prick-tip pressing against the entrance to my womb. Then, he started to
ram his thing back and forth inside me.
In... out... in... out...
He was starting out with a nice, easy rhythm, and I found my hips undulating in time
to his, as I gave little counter strokes. I didn't really know all that much about sex, but I
guess that I just have a natural aptitude for it.
He was still feeling my breasts up like crazy, concentrating in particular on the tender
nipples. He was really teasing them, too. Instead of just going to work on them, he
would circle his fingers in towards them, getting closer and closer as he did so. Then,
when the little passion nubs were just screaming to be touched, he would move his
fingers back out again. He did this several times before finally taking them in his fingers
and giving them the steady diet of caresses which they wanted.
In! Out! In! Out! In! Out! He had really picked up speed, now and was really working
that cunt of mine, really building me up to a coma Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I was almost there... almost... almost...
I felt my muscles tighten, felt my nerves wind tighter and tighter and tighter...
Almost...
"Just can't stand it! Just can't..."
Maybe it was because I said that and he didn't want to make me too frustrated, but
Charlie pulled back and then really put one great last stroke into me.
Man oh man, was he ever coming in slow and hard...
One third of the way in... one half... two thirds...
Just as he bottomed out with the tip of his prick touching the entrance to my womb, I
felt the first shudder of my come tear through me.
Wham! Wham! Wham! My pelvis bucked and heaved frantically as his cock gushed and
spurted its load deep, deep inside me...
Coming! Coming! Coming!
"Whewwww," I gasped as I felt the last little shudder go through me. It had really been
quite a ride.
Now that the passion had pretty much drained out of me, however, I started to feel
really guilty about what I had done. I mean, until just the day before, I had really been
proud of the fact that I was a virgin. Now I had had a dog lick my cunt, and a boy fuck
me. I guessed that about the only thing that was left was for me to have the dog stick
his penis in my cunt, and then my degradation would really be complete.
Charlie noticed that I was silent. He's pretty sharp, and I think he guessed that the
reason for it was the fuck that we had just had. He knew better than to make a lot of
idle chatter. Charlie was the sort of guy who could tell when someone wanted to be left
pretty much alone with her thoughts.
I was so worried that I might lose Charlie, too, now that I had started to fuck with him.
I mean, I really wasn't sure that he would still respect me in the same way he used to.
After all, why should he? I didn't really respect myself very much any more.
That evening, I just sat around in my bedroom reading. I didn't want to go down into
the living room, since I knew that my parents would ask me why I was so depressed.
That would just end up making me very eager to tell them, and I was determined not to
let them know that I knew their secret. I would have given anything not to have
discovered it, but of course, it was a bit late for that now, wasn't it?
I heard a scratching at the door, and let Tsar Nicholas in. He seemed in a friendly
mood, and kept licking my hand. Well, he's usually pretty friendly, so I didn't think
much of it until, I noticed that his cock had slid part way out of it's sheath. Clearly he
hoped that the fun and games of the night before were going to become a regular
feature.
"Hell, why not?" I asked myself. In fact, the sight of that dog-prick – as much of it as I
could see through his hair, at any rate – was pretty exciting. And I didn't see any
reason for me to hold back on any of my favors. It wasn't as if I were a virgin or
anything any more.
I got him up onto the bed, and reached out to touch his penis. The thing was already
pretty damn firm, but of course, the touch of my fingers made it an awful lot firmer in a
hurry.
I wasn't going to just feel him to come this time, though. I'd done that the last time,
and I didn't want to be unimaginative. Besides, the taste of the dog-sperm that I had
gotten from licking it off my hand the last time had frankly made me pretty hungry for
more.
I bent down and put my head under his belly. He's always nice and clean, but of course
that doesn't prevent him from having something of a doggy smell. Well, that kind of
turned me on. I mean, the idea that I was going to be having sex with a dog was
something that I found pretty exciting.
I sent my tongue darting out and flicked the tip of his penis. He gave a little howl of
pleasure, and although the thing was already so stiff that it looked as if it were going to
burst, it gave an extra little surge when I did that.
I gave another couple of flicks, and then I slipped my lips over the thing and started to
suck.
There was no question about it. Sucking cock was really something else! I felt my clit
harden up into a little solid knot, and already there was plenty of pussy-fluid trickling
down the inside of my thighs.
I reached my right hand down and pressed it against my clit. That caused such a violent
shudder to go through my body that I thought for a moment that I was going to come
right then and there. If I didn't want things to be over with too soon, I was obviously
going to have to be pretty careful about the way I handled that little button.
I trailed my fingers back and forth across the relatively insensitive lower lips for awhile,
in order to give my cunt a chance to cool off. Meanwhile, I continued to suck on Tsar
Nicholas's penis.
I slid my lips up and down the length of the thing, while using my tongue to stimulate
it even more. The dog was standing perfectly still, but breathing very heavily. It was
obvious that I had gotten him really cranked up.
I still had one hand free, and I alternated this between my tits and his balls. Of course,
it felt wonderful for me to have my hand playing with my nipples and pressing against
the tender globes. But at the same time, I got such an enthusiastic reaction from the
dog every time I took his ball sack in my hand that I wanted to keep on doing that at
least some of the time too...
My cunt had cooled off to the point that I could put my fingers on the labia again
without there being too much danger of my simply coming right away. I took full
advantage of the opportunity, too, trailing my fingers back and forth across the delicate
folds of wet skin.
I wanted to give his prick as varied a performance as I could, and so I didn't just suck
on it all the time. Sometimes, I would take my mouth off of it and give it a whole series
of loving kisses. I even took his balls in my mouth for a while and sucked on them.
Then, I would slide my lips back over the animals cock and continue with the sucking
action.
I varied that, too, though. For instance, some of the time I would slide my lips all the
way down the length of the rod so that I was sucking on its rod. That part of it was
clearly pretty sensitive, and when I sucked there, he would give a series of joyful little
yaps. But one part of his rod that was even more sensitive was the very tip. When I
sucked on him there, I could hear his breathing get more labored, and I knew that he
wasn't far from his come.
As for comes, I certainly wasn't all that far away from mine, either. My whole cunt felt'
like it was on fire, and my hand was soaking wet from all the pussy fluid that I had
excreted all over it.
Suddenly, I felt the dog's prick give a little stiffening and start to shoot gob after gob of
warm dog cream into my mouth. At that second, I pressed my fingers as hard as I
possibly could against my clit.
That was all that the little thing needed in order to shudder off into a wild series of
spasms. I pressed my fingers all the harder against my tender woman-parts as I felt the
shock waves go slamming through me.
Gush! Gush! Gush! Gush! I was amazed at how much spunk the dog had in his balls. It
was just pouring into my mouth and wasn't giving any indications that it was about to
stop either. There was sperm trickling down my throat, sperm between my teeth and
lips, sperm absolutely everywhere!
When he finally stopped shooting, I slurped the stuff around in my mouth over his tool
before finally easing my lips off his slowly-softening penis.
I went over to my bureau and took a hand mirror in my hand. I held it up to my
mouth, which I then opened so that I could see the little lake of male fluid inside. Then,
I gulped the stuff down in one swallow.
As with all the sex sessions that I have had before or after, I found that once the
passion had sort of drained out of me, so to speak, a feeling of pretty strong guilt set in.
This time, it was particularly sharp, maybe because in retrospect the idea of having a
dog's penis inside my mouth seemed sort of disgusting.
"That's it," I said to myself. "I'm not going to do these things any more. It doesn't
matter what my parents get up to, I'm going to keep up some kind of moral standards
on my own." That meant no fucking with Charlie, and none of the goofy things that I
had been doing with my dog.
When I next went out with Charlie, I was determined that I was going to insist that he
not try anything with me. But things didn't work out quite that way. When he put his
hands on my tits, I told him that I would rather that he wouldn't, and he seemed really
genuinely shocked and hurt.
"What's the matter honey, are you pissed at me?"
"No, I just don't want us to go too far tonight."
"But what about our last date?"
"That was different," I said.
Charlie wasn't very satisfied with that for an answer, and while all this exchange was
going on, he was continuing to fondle my tits, and even got one of his hands up my
skirt.
Charlie's a pretty smooth talker, and those hands of his aren't bad at their own kind of
talking, either. So, my resistance eventually collapsed.
"What about a sixty-nine?" he said. "A sixty-nine?"
"Get down on the seat and I'll show you."
I was so worked up with his fondling by now and so confused as to whether I really
had any , right to deny him what he wanted now that I had really had given it to him
once, that I agreed, and got down on the car seat. I was pretty surprised when he got
out of the car and walked around to the other side. He wanted to end up facing the
opposite direction, it turned out, and what with the steering wheel and all, there wasn't
any easier way of doing so.
He got into position and said, "It's very simple. You suck my prick and I lick your
cunt."
Well, I had sucked prick before – Tsar Nicholas's – and it did seem pretty petty to me
to make an issue of it now that I had done it once. If a girl has sucked dog-prick, it
doesn't seem that she really has much of a right to be all that picky in the future.
Besides, that cock of his looked pretty good and my curiosity was getting the better of
me too. After all, I wanted to know if the sensation of having boy prick in my mouth
would really be all that different from the sensation that I had gotten from the dog's
penis.
I slid my mouth around his cock and started to suck. It was a fine prick, good and
thick, and I think that the thickness made it more satisfying to have in my mouth than
Tsar Nicholas's.
Lap! Lap! Lap! That was his tongue going at it on my cunt. It was interesting to note
the difference between his tongue on my cunt and the animals. When Tsar Nicholas
licked my twat, there wasn't any particular spot that he was homing in on. He was just
trying to get as much of that cunt juice into his mouth as he possibly could. But with
Charlie, the situation was different. He didn't have anything like as long and snakey
and flexible a tongue as the dog had, but he knew very well just what parts of my twat
were particularly susceptible. And of course he concentrated on them to beat hell.
At first, he licked away on my labia, giving the occasional flick to my clit, but
recognizing from the shudders that such flicks called forth just how careful he had to be
there. Then, he wormed his tongue on down into my vagina.
Down, down, down it went, went, until it was extended all the way. Then, he pressed it
against first one side of the cunt then the other. That felt particularly neat. And after
that, he pulled it quickly out so that he could carry as much cunt-fluid with it as he
possibly could. Then, back in again it went, and the whole cycle was repeated.
As for me, I was sucking on his cock in much the same way that I had sucked on Tsar
Nicholas's. In that respect, at least, I guess that it's fair to say that a cock is a cock.
I figured that since he was a boy, he should be in charge of timing, I guess he felt the
same way. He licked away on me until I was right on the edge of my come, and then he
sort of placed me on hold by easing up on the pressure. I was still in a pretty frantic
state of excitement, however, and that meant that he would be able to bring me off any
time he wanted.
As for me, I was just sucking away merrily. When I felt him give that little pre-come
quiver that I had noticed in Tsar Nicholas when I had blown him, he pressed his
tongue against my clit, with the result that I almost instantly erupted into my come.
Wham! Wham! Wham! My pelvis bucked and heaved with the force of my orgasm,
slamming against his face. He didn't mind that with in the least, however, and sort of
rode with the punches. In fact, his tongue continued to lick away on my twat even as
the latter was shuddering and quivering in ecstasy.
Finally, we were done, and I pulled my lips off of his rod and drank his spunk. He gave
my cunt a final lick, and then we sat up. He put his arm around me, and said "see,
honey, sex can be really nice."
I just nodded. Certainly in terms of physical pleasure, he was quite right, but the
feelings afterwards were quite a bummer.
All this time I found myself getting more and more attracted to Tsar Nicholas. To tell
the truth, I was coming very definitely prefer him as a sexual partner to Charlie.
I had started out by sucking the dog's prick, or rather, that had followed on his licking
my cunt and my feeling him to a come.
I had had the dog lick my cunt, I had given him a handjob, and I had given him a
blowjob. About the only thing that I had not tried with him was having him fuck me.
Well, after I got back from the date with Charlie – the one where we sixty-nined – I
couldn't help thinking that although the sixty-nine had been nice, I sort of missed
getting some good hard prick in my cunt. Well, I had a nice four-legged solution to the
problem sleeping in front of the living room fire.
I woke Tsar Nicholas up and led him up to my room. There, I sort of wrestled around
playfully with him on the bed, before finally using my hand to bring his cock to a state
of perfectly furious hardness.
"Now, let's see if he'll get the idea," I said to myself as I got onto my hands and knees.
It seemed more likely to me that the dog would figure out what was expected of him if
I got into a position a bit like the one that female dogs are in when they are fucked.
At first, he didn't catch on. As I waited there with my twat pointing straight at him, I
felt something soft and wet on my labia. It was his tongue. He obviously really enjoyed
licking my twat, and when he saw me present it to him, he must have thought that this
was far too good an opportunity for him to pass up.
Well, that tongue of his felt very nice, there, but it wasn't exactly what I had in mind.
"Up boy," I said to him. "Up and fuck! C'mon!"
He still didn't catch on. So, I reached back and lifted his paws onto my ass in the hope
that being in the right position would inspire him.
I was in luck! He moved his paws on up my back, and then started prodding away at
my cunt as he tried to find my hole. Someone had once told me that for all their
elegance, Russian wolfhounds are a rather stupid breed. I had indignantly rejected the
idea at the time, but now, I wasn't all that sure.
I took hold of his cock and guided it into my hole. That turned out to be all that he
needed. He started to buck back and forth with rapid, slightly jerky strokes.
I was surprised that the feel of his cock, and the tempo of his strokes, was so different
from Charlie's. That didn't mean that it wasn't nice, though. Each stroke pulled my
labia hard against my clit, and I guess that a girl can't reasonably ask for much more
than that.
In-out-in-out...
Now that he had gotten into the swing of things, he was really enjoying himself as he
bucked away faster and faster building me up to my come.
I was resting my weight on my right hand and using my left to tease and caress my
hanging tits. I pulled on the nipples, I swung the globes from side to side, I did all sorts
of other nice things....
He was working me up really fast, too. Already, I found my cunt clutching convulsively
at his rod. Only a few more strokes would be needed. Just a very few more.. ..
And suddenly, my cunt was clutching desperately at his rod, and I was coming, and
coming, and coming!
He shot his wad up into me in quick bursts, and the thought that it was a dog that was
firing into my body had me so excited that I was nearly out of my mind. But when I
thought about it afterwards, I wanted to cry...
In the week or so since that fuck, I've done all sorts of things with him. I find myself
craving sex with him more and more, and then feeling more and more guilty about it.
Finally, I woke up this morning so depressed about the situation that I felt that I just
had to tell someone about it. Being a parent is an awesome responsibility, for one must
not only decide what things one's child is or is not to be permitted to do, but one must
set an example for him or her. Children and adolescents crave models that they can
pattern themselves on in the difficult business of growing up, and like it or not, parents
are their first and foremost choices.
Clearly, witnessing her parents' swap party was a traumatic experience for Eve. Not
only did their behavior violate the sexual standards that they themselves had inculcated
into her, but it made them appear as hypocrites. All their moral authority was shattered
as far as she was concerned, and that meant that she had nowhere to turn.
People often punish themselves for things which are not their fault, and that is certainly
the case here. Eve subconsciously was angry with herself for spying on her parents,
because it was her decision to do so which had resulted in their moral authority being
destroyed. She thus determined (subconsciously) to meet out the "deserved"
punishment. This took the form of self-degradation.
Of course, there was an element of chance in the way the specific form of selfdegradation 
was chosen. The fact that her dog licked her vagina gave her an inspiration,
and she acted on it.
Of course, while she was obeying one part of her subconscious by punishing herself
through canine sex, she was violating the taboos buried deep in another part of it,
namely the one that held that "nice girls don't". An example of how strictly she had
been brought up is made clear by the fact that she had previously regarded it as a big
deal when she had granted a French kiss to her boyfriend.
People actually crave moral absolutes, at least from a certain point of view, and having
hers destroyed put Eve in a very anxious and uncomfortable position. That is why her
pattern of behavior made her more and more uncomfortable until she felt that she had
to seek professional help.
One of the difficulties with treating children is that their problems are so closely linked
with a home situation over which they do not have very much control. I felt it
necessary, therefore, to contact her parents and see if they would be interested in some
family counseling. Because I believe that the strictest confidentiality must always be
maintained, I had to first get Eve's permission to tell them of her relations with her dog.
This took weeks, but she finally agreed. Since she was searching so desperately for a
source of moral authority, she was very anxious to cast me in the role of moral arbiter,
and to trust me implicitly.
The knowledge that their own daughter was engaging in bestiality appalled Eve's
parents, and stripped from them the thin veneer of swinging sophistication. Their basic
moral inclinations were well represented by the strict attitude that they had taken to her
upbringing during most of her life. The swinging was something that did not really
correspond to their personalities, which they had taken up because they were having
difficulty enjoying each other in bed any more. Also, they were rather shallow people
with an inclination to follow fashions. But with their own daughter, their ideas were
relatively unchanged (despite such concessions to non-hypocrisy as their extending her
curfew).
In several sessions involving the whole family, I was able to restore a measure of mutual
trust. They promised Eve to give up swinging. As for their marital problems, they were
going to attend a sex-clinic on my recommendation.
Few girls who have tasted sex are willing to give it up, so my job in the extensive
private therapy with Eve was to reconcile her to the idea that sex in the context of a boy
she really liked like Charlie was all right I also sought to eliminate the guilt which she
felt about the bestial relations that she had engaged in.
All of this was a very long, difficult process. Because she was so turned off by her
parents' deceit, she felt she had to tell Charlie all. Normally I would not have
necessarily advised that, but in this case the effect was beneficial. Charlie told her he
understood and forgave her, and when she saw that someone like him could respect
her, she was once again able to respect herself."
The result was that she ended up with a set of moral standards more in tune with
modern times than the ones which her parents' swinging had destroyed. As for the dog,
now that she no longer felt any need to punish herself and her parents, she no longer
had any interest in having sex with him.


Case History 4

"Kiki LaFlamme" was the name that she danced under, and looking at Maureen H. it
was easy to imagine what a hit she was on the runway. She had high cheekbones and
sensual, pouting lips. Her body was magnificent, with fine, firm-looking breasts. But
there was a frightened, little-girl look to the eyes of Maureen H. which the patrons of
the Tropicana Club probably never noticed in Kiki LaFlamme.
"I'm here because I'm a mess," she said simply. "My life is a mess. Sometimes, I think
of trying to sort it out, though, and I've come to the conclusion that if I'm ever to
succeed in doing so, I'm going to need help."
"What do you mean exactly when you say that your life is a mess?" I asked.
"I dunno. When I was a kid, I wanted the same sort of things that other girls wanted. A
husband, a home, kids. The whole scene."
"Do you still want those things?"
"A part of me does. A small part, but maybe the most important part. There's my whole
other side, though, that's tied up with stripping and the subculture that's associated
with it. 'Subculture'. Now there's a word for you. I picked it up from a customer at the
Tropicana when I was doing my B-girl turn."
"And you're not sure that you want to be a stripper?"
"I don't know what it is that I want, Doctor. That's why I've come to see you. I figure
that maybe you can help me decide what it is that I really do want. You see, sometimes
I get really sick of the whole life, and frightened at the way in which I seem to be
getting odder and odder. I feel that if I'm ever going to start some kind of different life,
it'll have to be about now, because I'm getting into some pretty weird trips."
"Like what?" I asked.
"Like the way I fuck with dogs," she said. She said that as someone for whom nothing
sexual has any mystery left to it. She wasn't sure how I was going to react to it, and
seemed both relieved and a trifle disappointed that I took the admission so much in
stride.
"Have you had other women come to you with that problem?" she asked.
"Dozens, from all walks of life," I replied.
"Well, then who knows, maybe there's hope for me yet. Anyway, this is how I got into
the whole weird scene..."
I've been a stripper for the past four years. Before that, I worked as a waitress in a
short-order dump. Talk about a shit job. Hustling hamburgers all day for about $1.75.
I was introduced to stripping by a boyfriend. Actually, he was a bit more in the nature
of a pickup. He met me in the hamburger joint, took me out once, fucked me, then told
me that he could get me into stripping. He was.an agent, he said, and he needed girls
that looked like I did.
So, I jumped at the chance. $350 a week is pretty tempting to someone who's been
lucky to clear seventy. And it wasn't just the money that appealed to me. It was the
chance to be somebody.
Oh, I know it sounds pretty dumb saying that being a stripper is being somebody, but
it's better than being a waitress. I mean, there are all the dumb customers sitting there
with their mouths open like goldfish while you flash your bod. You have something
that they want, and they can't have it, not unless you feel like giving it to them. It's sort
of a power trip.
As for my sex life, that was pretty largely a matter of one-night stands. Oh, I put out for
the club owner whenever he wants to, since that's just about in the contract. And for
my agent, too. Also I get fixed up with dates by other girls at the clubs. And then, there
are the customers. Part of the job is doing some B-girl work. Push the old watered
champagne. You know the racket. Well, most of the customers are real sad sacks, and I
wouldn't dream of going to bed with them if they were the last guys on earth. But some
of the time you meet guys who seem to have something on the ball. And if your cunt
needs some action (and whose doesn't), you go home with them. You get a fuck, and
sometimes you get a "gift". It's not exactly prostitution. Sort of oh the borderline, I
guess.
Anyway, the business with the animals got started two months ago. I had had a big row
with the boss over some dumb thing or the other – I think he was complaining that I
hadn't gotten the suckers to spend enough money during my B-girl routines – and he
threatened to fire me..
"Yeah, fire me if you want, buster, jobs in dumps like this are a dime a dozen."
In fact, at the time, jobs weren't a dime a dozen, and the club owners kind of work
hand in hand. If you get in bad with one of them, you can have problems.
My boss knew that, and he said, "naw, I'm not going to fire you, Kiki. You've got too
good a bod for that. But when you pick up your paycheck tomorrow, you'll find it
twenty bucks short."
"Wha-a-at?"
"I don't like insolent broads. Take it or leave it" I would have liked to tell him to stuff it
down his throat or up his ass, but I didn't have the nerve. I knew if I did, he might try
and not pay me at all, and though in theory I could go to court to collect, I knew that
that would be a long and tiresome hassle. And I'd be out of a job.
"Men!" I said to myself, boiling with rage as I got ready for my act.
I really felt pissed at the whole tribe of them, but of course I had to keep a sexy
expression glued on my mug the whole time I was dancing. After all, I'm the girl of
their dreams. What a life!
When I was doing my B-girl routine, I moved in on this really neat looking stud. He
said his name was Quentin, or something goofy like that. In fact, I don't suppose it was
even his real first name.
The guy kind of sent out a certain electricity, and besides, it was obvious from the way
he was dressed that he had plenty of dough. Well, my cunt hadn't had a good bang for
a while, and I was kind of interested in Quentin as a prospect With a guy like that, you
might even find a hundred dollar bill in your bra when you took it off on getting home.
I arranged for him to wait for me after the show. He took me to his place in his big
sports-car. The apartment was pretty ritzy, too.
It goes without saying that we both knew what we had come for, so to speak, so we
didn't waste much time on preliminaries. He had my clothes off in no time, and we
headed into his bedroom.
"Okay, baby, how about top-riding me?" he said.
"Fine by me."
He lay back on his back, and I got on top of him. He held his cock in the air, and I
lowered my cunt down on top of the thing.
It was a good long prick. Maybe not as hard as I would have liked, but perfectly okay.
I started moving my body up and down over it. Up and down. Up and down. Quentin
reached up with his hands and cupped my tits. He sort of pressed them against my
chest, and then moved them around in circles. He pinched the nipples – harder than I
would have liked – and ran his fingers over the surface of the tits.
I rather like top-riding, and I was getting into the swing of things. I was moving my
body with a nice, easy rhythym and I was giving him what I thought was a really nice
go. I've never had any complaints about my technique before, that's for sure.
I was starting to get pretty worked up, now, and was really looking forward to my
come. Every thrust pulled my labia over my clit, and clit and labia together were both
very excited.
Up... down up... down...
Then, I noticed that his cock seemed to be going soft. I sort of clutched at it with my
cunt as hard as I could to try and give it all the stimulation possible, but there was no
getting around the fact that it was getting soft.
"Dumb bitch!" he snarled, and I was so taken aback that I stopped moving for just a
second. Only a second, but of course that didn't help his cock any. There could be no
doubt at all that it was losing pressure rapidly.
Whap! To my amazement, he had hit me really hard across the cheek.
I got off of him in a hurry, and he got to his feet. I was afraid that he was going to
really beat me up – some of the guys that you meet in a place like the Tropicana are
pretty weird – but instead what he did was grab hold of my wrist and say, "if you make
a struggle, you dumb bitch, I'm going to beat you half to death. If you stand completely
still, nothing bad'll happen to you."
The look in his eyes indicated that the part about beating me half to death wasn't by
any means necessarily an exaggeration. Better safe than sorry. I let my arms drop to my
side. There wasn't anything that I could have done to defend myself against the guy,
since he was pretty well built like a football player.
He looked at me a moment and said, "remember, you're to stand still."
Then, he slapped my face, hard. I could see by the look in his eyes that he meant me to
keep standing still.
"You've got one more coming," he said. I had no choice but to stand here completely
helpless.
Slap! A sharp slap, but what hurt wasn't the physical pain. It Was the way in which he
had forced me to stand and "take my punishment," and the fact that I had been
cowardly enough to do it.
He ordered me to get dressed, and when I was about to leave, he handed me a dollar
bill.
"There's your tip, sweetheart!"
The dollar bill hurt almost as much as the slaps. A normal tip would be somewhere in
the neighborhood of twenty dollars.
I took a taxi back to my apartment, and when I got there, I threw myself face down on
the bed and started to cry. Maybe that sounds funny, a stripper crying. Kiki LaFlamme,
toughest little broad this side of St. Louis. Well, I do cry, and T sure cried this time
with the humiliation that I'd been through.
"Men! The pricks!" I snarled. And the business with Quentin, or whatever the turd's
name was had come right on top of the almost equally humiliating business with my
boss. I felt like I was just the plaything of men, without any kind of life or existence of
my own.
It was three in the morning, but I wasn't tired. When you're a stripper, you get
accustomed to keeping odd hours.
"Hell, it wasn't my fault the guy couldn't keep it up," I thought. "I bet he can never
keep it up. Maybe he likes it that way, so that he has a chance to humiliate women."
I heard some breathing near me, and looked up. It was good old Tango, my big cocker
spaniel. He's the only real friend that I have, and as a result I really kind of baby him.
"It's a dog's life," Tango, I said as I patted the dog on the head, "and don't let anyone el
tell you differently. If it weren't for you, I'd be all alone in the world."
The dog nuzzled up close to me, and I could feel the warmth of his body. It was really
good to have something warm and alive and loving next to me. I would have preferred
it to have been a really neat boyfriend, but it didn't look like that was in the cards.
"You're my boyfriend, you know that?" I said to him. "If you could fuck, I wouldn't
need anyone else."
Then after a moment's thought, I said to myself, "maybe he can fuck. There's no reason
that guys have to have a monopoly on that."
I lay back on the bed and spread my legs. Tango didn't get the idea completely, but he
did start licking my twat.
That was so nice that I thought I'd just let him continue. My cunt was still as hungry
for some action as it had been when I had been dumb enough to pick up Quentin. And
the dog's tongue felt awfully nice.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! The thing seemed to be everywhere. He was trying to lick up as
much pussy fluid as he possibly could, I guess, but the result was that he wasn't leaving
a female nook or cranny unexplored. This meant that I was getting as much stimulation
as my twat could possibly desire.
I instinctively put my hands to my tits and started to play with them. I have very
sensitive breasts, and I don't think and sex is really very satisfactory unless my tits get a
fairly good workout. Lick! Lick! Lick!
"Man, oh man, you know your stuff, don't you boy. You sure know it a lot better that
that turd Quentin."
I mashed my tits against my chest, and pulled on the nipples. The things were already
semi-hard, but you had better believe that they got an awful lot more than semi after
that action. In fact, they swelled up to about three times their size.
"If the Johns at the club could see that they'd go ape," I thought. I knew that the
customers were always turned on by the sight of erect nipples.
I didn't want to think about that dumb club, though, I just wanted to think about what
a great time I was getting, and what a great dog this was. I took my hands off of my tits
for a while and pressed them against his great fløPPyŸ golden ears. Then I went back to
playing with my breasts.
Lick! Lick! Lick!
I just couldn't take too much more of this. It was driving me straight out of my everloving mind.
Suddenly, my body sort of tensed, and I knew just exactly what that meant. In the next
second, my come hit me, and hit me hard, with my hips bucking and heaving furiously
against the dog's face.
He kept on licking at my twat, even as my body released all of my pent-up comeenergies at once.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
And that... was... it...
I lay there on the bed, gasping for breath and feeling very happy. It wasn't just that I
had gotten a good bang, though of course that had been very nice. It was so refreshing
to have a partner who really likes you and really wants to make you feel good. Maybe it
sounds dumb saying that about a dog, but heaven knows, he's all I've got.
And he hadn't gotten anything out of this so far. His prick, which was extended all the
way out of its sheath hadn't gotten a come yet. Oh, I guess in reality the reason that he
had licked me was because he was instinctively attracted by my woman smell and the
taste of the pussy fluid, but it was easy, and nice, to pretend.
Well, I was going to show that I was a grateful female, that was for sure. He wasn't
going to have to worry about getting his rocks off. That was something that I was going
to attend to right now.
He hadn't figured out how to fuck me face to face, but maybe, I reasoned, that was
because he had never had any experience in doing it that way. If I pretended like I was
a bitch in heat, maybe he'd have less trouble.
So, I got onto my hands and knees, with my cunt pointing straight at him. If he didn't
want me like this, I guess he didn't want me.
Well, he did want me, and it was kind of a relief for me to find out that that was the
case. I had only been in position for about two seconds before I felt him put his paws
on my back as he got ready to fuck.
"Mmmm, I should take you to the vet and get your nails clipped," I thought. "You're
overdue. It's been months."
I didn't mind the fact that his nails were digging at me slightly, though. I had
something that more than made up for that, namely the feel of his prick.
He poked at me once or twice as he tried to find out just where my hole was. Then, he
slid his penis on into me, nice and easy.
I wondered if he would wait a second or two before getting on with the fuck, like guys
sometimes do, but he didn't Obviously he believed in getting down to business, because
no sooner did he have his cock inside me than he started to fuck.
In-out-in-out-in-out. He had a kind of jerky motion, and one that was a lot faster than a
guy's, but that didn't mean that it wasn't nice. In fact, the stimulation that it gave to my
clit and labia was better than anything that I could remember getting from a man in a
long time.
I was undulating my hips, like I had when I had top-ridden Quentin, but there was a
big difference this time. My partner was hard. In fact, that long, thin cock of his felt
like it must be made out of metal or something.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I had to support my body on one hand, and that meant that I only had one free to play
with my tits. And since Tango had paws instead of hands, he couldn't give me the
breast. attention that I usually got from men when they fucked me from behind like
this. Well, an awful lot of them made a real hash of that, anyway, and I almost
preferred to do it myself, even if I was going to have to do it one-handed.
Besides, there's an awful lot that you can do with one hand if you know how. I pressed
it against my left breast, forcing it and the right breast out to the right. Then I let go,
and the tits swung back and forth like a pendulum. I also pinched and tweaked the
nipples (much more subtly than that idiot Quentin had done), and pressed first one tit,
then the other, up against my chest before letting it sort of drop.
The real action was below my waist though, with those wonderful fast strokes that I
was getting right in the box.
Buck! Buck! Buck!
Really slamming! Really giving it to me!"
"Make me come! Make me come!" I gasped.
Cock in cunt, sliding, slamming!
Eager cunt, clutching, trembling!
I was almost there... just had to come... just had to – In-out-in-out-in-out...
"Come! Got to cornel" Come minus three, and counting...
All of a sudden, I felt my cunt clutch desperately at the thrusting penis, and my hips
started to quiver. I was going over the top, and the feeling of my female organ grabbing
at him like that was more than enough to get Tango off too.
Gush! Gush! Gush! He was sending that dog cream up into my body with amazing
force, and it was also amazing just how much of the damn stuff he had.
Come! Come! Come!
Man, oh man, oh man, was it ever wild!
Finally, his penis gave a last little shiver, and a few more drops oozed into my woman
tube. My body quieted down, and I was gasping for breath as I knelt there on the bed.
As for Tango, he hauled his cock out at once. I would have thought that that was a sign
of his not loving me except for the fact that he very soon nuzzled his head up against
my face. I guess that's just the way that dogs are.
I felt as emotionally exhausted as I did physically. Talk about tiring days. It had
featured, in addition to a full day's work, having my ego stepped all over by a couple of
creeps, and then, at the end, the discovery of a wonderful new sexual partner.
I flicked out the light, and went to sleep.
The next morning, when I woke up, it took me a while to remember just what it was
special that had happened the evening before. I remembered the row with my boss, and
as I lay there, piecing together the events of the previous day,. I remember the business
with Quentin, too. I shuddered with disgust at myself for having undergone such a
humiliation, though in fact I hadn't had much of a choice.
But there was more. I woke up very slowly, and as I lay there in bed, snuggled under
the covers, I knew that there was something else for me to remember.
Of course! Tango! I smiled as I remembered the way in which he had been so loving
and gentle. That had really been quite a bang that he had given to my cunt, too!
In fact, a bit of repeat action would be very agreeable, I thought. I opened my eyes and
looked for the dog. There he was in his dog bed next to the door.
"Here boy," I called to him. He woke up and came to me immediately. One of his
many good qualities is that he is a very obedient dog. I got him to jump up on top of
the bed, and then I pulled him under the covers and snuggled with him. It was
wonderful feeling his warmth and furriness.
That wasn't the only part of him that I was interested in, though, and I groped around
until I found his penis. Sure enough, there it was, and what was more, it was already
part of the way out of the sheath.
A quick squeeze or two was enough to change that "part-way" to "all the way." Now, all
I had to do was decide what I wanted to do with him. I was torn between a fuck and a
blowjob. After all, I'd already had his cock inside my vagina once, where I hadn't had it
in my mouth yet. And I've always really liked oral sex, too. The only thing was, I had
so enjoyed the fuck that I had gotten from him the evening before that I was sort of
eager for a repeat performance. I remembered how he had not caught onto the idea of a
face to face fuck, for all of my urging, and I had had fuck with him dog-style. Well,
maybe it would be an interesting way to start of the day if I tried to teach him to fuck
face to face. He was an intelligent dog, and that didn't strike me as something so"
difficult that he wouldn't be able to figure it out if I approached it right.
I threw the covers back, since this was going to be a bit complicated, and I needed to
see just exactly what I – and he – was doing.
"Here we go, boy," I said to him as I spread my legs and positioned him between them.
I was lying flat on my back, and I had him so that his hindquarters were right where
my cunt was, and his forepaws were on either side of my shoulders. That meant that I
could look right at his face, with his glossy black nose and big, soulful brown eyes.
I pressed on his hips to make him sit. His prick was sticking up in the air, and I could
see from the way his tongue was hanging out that he was very excited. Presumably, he
wasn't all that sure what it was that his mistress was up to, but he trusted her, and
figured that he would find out soon enough.
I sort of lifted my hips up while pushing down on his penis to bring it horizontal.
Then, I wormed my cunt over the end of his rod. That took a bit of doing, but finally it
was in all the way.
Like I said, Doctor, Tango's intelligent, and that was all the hint that he really needed.
Once he felt the pressure of my cunt on his cock, he figured out just what it was that he
was supposed to do.
I felt him start to buck his penis back and forth inside me. It wasn't all that easy for
him, since he wasn't really built to do it that way, and he had to fuck from a semi
sitting position. But he was really eager, and the thrusts became more and more
determined as he got more and more accustomed to the technique that was required.
Back... forth... back... forth... If anything, the difficulty of the position took some of the
really rapid, jerky quality out of the way he fucked. And the stimulation to my clit and
labia was perfectly satisfactory. I had his face right there near my tits, but unfortunately
he wasn't interested in them, despite the fact that they're fine enough to make me $350
a week. Well, I guess that dogs must never have any occasion or get interested in tits.
They don't lick the tits of female dogs, and unlike a woman's cunt, the breasts don't
have any distinctive sexual odor. I thought that maybe if I flavored the things next time,
that might get him interested. But it was too late to try anything along those lines now.
Besides, the tits would have just been a sideshow compared to the fine action that I was
getting in the twat as he levered his rod back and forth inside me. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
"Mmmm, nice, I murmured as I felt the taut skin of his prick slide back and forth, back
and forth on the film of cunt-juice that covered the inside of my pussy.
I was wriggling my hips now in excitement, and grinding my ass against the sheets of
the bed. This dog had really gotten me worked up with a capital W.
I felt my clit start to literally throb in its come need, and my twat felt like it was starting
to glow red hot..
In! Out! In! Out!
It wouldn't be long... Not long at all...
Suddenly, I felt a gob of spunk shoot up into my womb, followed by another and
another. His cock really sort of pulsed as it shot, and the feeling of the rod quivering
inside me like that, the sensation of that dog cream shooting on up into me, was more
than enough to bring me off. It seemed like my cunt just sort of blew up, like a box of
fireworks that someone drops a lighted cigarette into. Whoooommmmm! My pelvis
bucked and heaved, my cunt trembled, my muscles throbbed, and together, the dog and
I came and came, and came!
He pulled out after he had finished, just like he had the first time, and I lay back in the
bed. I pulled the covers back up over us, and even dozed off a bit. I just felt so good,
having my lover here next to me, and knowing that he wasn't going to humiliate me, or
be mean to me, or do anything that wasn't nice.
"Men may be alright for paying the bills," I thought, "but give me dogs every time for
love!"
I know all of that must sound a bit weird, and it even seemed a bit weird to me at the
time. But you've got to remember that I'd had some pretty bad experiences with men,
and though I guess that the one with Quentin was one of the worst, it was really just
the last in a long series.
I would have liked a good man, and I guess that because I haven't quite given up on the
possibility I've come here to see you, in the hope that you can straighten things out for
me in that department. But at the time, I really felt disgusted with the whole lot of
them, and felt that the less I had to do with them, the better.
I got up, finally, and spent the day sort of puttering around. You get to be kind of lazy
when you work as a stripper. Of course, Tango had to be walked, and I took him into
the park. It was sort of funny, the way I kept saying to myself, "well, here I am going
for a stroll in the park with my lover. How romantic!"
Finally, the afternoon wore on into the evening, and I had to go to the club. I really
hated the thought of it, particularly after the way in which my boss had humiliated me
so badly the day before. But I didn't have much choice if I wanted to eat.
In the dressing room, while I was putting on the various layers of gewgaws that those
imbeciles in the audience pay so much money to see me take off again, I talked with
Margie, who's sort of a friend of mine. I say "sort of because there aren't all that many
real friends among strippers. There's too much backbiting about who's going to get star
billing and things like that.
"How was the guy you picked up last night, Margie?" I asked her. To be honest, I
hoped she'd say he was a real creep, misery loves company, I suppose. I wasn't
disappointed.
"Ah, a real prick," Margie said. "Couldn't fuck worth a damn, and always making snide
remarks about how he could buy me if he wanted to."
"What did you do?"
"What do you think. I figured that help the kind of guy who gets his kicks out of
running down women, but then tried to make them like him by giving them plenty of
money. He was good for a fifty."
That pretty much sums up the score. Men are generally regarded as creeps by a lot of
the girls who work in the stripping racket That's why a fair number of the girls are gay.
Others, like me, wait for prince charming to show up, since they don't happen to dig
chicks sexually, and figure that there isn't any other choice.
That evening's performance went pretty much like the others, except that I was
determined this time not to let myself be picked up. I wanted to be able to get home to
Tango early so that we could have the whole rest of the evening together.
In fact, it made the B-girl routine kind of nice. All the guys hope the girl they're talking
to will come home with them, and it gives you feeling of power to string them along,
and know all the while that you don't intend to give them a damn thing.
At two A.M. the show shut down, and I was free to get home. By this time, I was in
such a panic to get back to my cocker spaniel that I really felt sort of anxious when I
wasn't able to get a cab.
Finally I found one, and it wasn't long before I was cuddling him.
He was catching on pretty fast to this new kind of relationship that we had. As soon as
I started to cuddle with him, his prick began to slide on out of its sheath. He knew
what it was that I had in mind for the two of us.
"You know," I said to him as I gave a squeeze to his prick, "I think I know why it is
that they call you cocker spaniels."
The bark he gave seemed to indicate he understood the joke.
The thing that I had been dreaming of the whole time I had been at the Tropicana that
evening was giving him a blowjob. It was the one thing that I hadn't tried with him,
and I was sure that it would be really neat.
I lifted him up onto my bed, and then bent down and placed my head under his belly.
His beautiful golden curls hung down around his pink-looking prick. It didn't just look
pink It also looked very hard and ready for action.
I flicked the tip of it with my tongue, and he gave an excited little yelp. It was obvious
that that really turned him on to beat hell.
Another flick followed, and another, and another. I enjoyed teasing him like this,
because I knew that he enjoyed it.
I gave a whole little series of kisses that ran down the side of his shaft, and then I took
his balls in my mouth and started to suck on them.
His breathing was getting heavier all the time, and he was standing as rigidly as a
statue. It seemed clear to me that he was getting wound up as hell.
Well, I wasn't exactly loose as a goose. In fact, my clit was throbbing like a sore tooth,
and there was so much pussy fluid leaking down the inside of my thigh that it was
almost as if I had taken a piss.
Well, the preliminaries were fun, but it was obviously time for both of us to move into
the really serious stuff. That meant that it was time for me to take that prick of his in
my mouth and start to suck.
I slipped my lips over the end of the thing, but I was enough of a tease not to just start
on in with the heavy sucking. I just applied the lighted, most tantalizing pressure with
my lips.
~He gave a sharp yelp, and it was obvious that he was starting to get a bit impatient.
Well, fair enough, so was I.
I pressed the lips against the prickmeat more firmly, and started to slide my lips up and
down along the length of the shaft My right hand was down on my crotch already,
playing away with my cunt like there was no tomorrow. I had my fingers up my cunt,
and was pressing my thumb against my labia. The tender folds of pink skin were
absolutely slick with cunt-juice.
Suck! Suck! Suck! I was pulling away hard on the cock now. I had my lips all the way
down at the root of the prick, so that I could have the feeling of its tip pressing against
the roof of my mouth. Man! Talk about nice. That made breathing a bit difficult, but
who cared about breathing. I was so turned on that I could hardly even think!
I felt the cock get stiffer and stiffer all the time, and that in itself was perfectly
incredible, seeing that it had felt pretty much like a broom-handle when I had started.
Then, the cock suddenly gave a final little stiffening and began to gush its load into my
mouth. Once again, I was a bit surprised at how much jism he had to shoot.
I pressed my fingers against my clit at the instant that he started to unload his cock into
me. The result was that my cunt shuddered off into a come almost instantly.
I pressed my hand all the harder against my cuntlips, despite the fact that they felt so
sensitive that a feather would have almost been too much pressure for them.
I sucked on the cock even as it fired, as if I were afraid that a drop or two of the
precious dog-sperm might remain in the animal's penis.
Finally, he stopped shooting, and I continued to suck on his gradually-softening
whanger. What a prick this animal had! And to think of all the time that I had wasted
hoping for a really great fuck from some guy.
I slipped my lips off of the dog's rod and walked into the bathroom. I stood in front of
the mirror, and with my tongue forced a bit of the sperm over my lips. That meant that
I could see a couple of drop of the sperm dribbling down my chin. It was a nice sight.
After that, I drank the stuff down, in one big gulp.
That was just the beginning of the fun and games for the evening, too. After that, I had
him lick my cunt (he was still eager to, despite the fact that he had had a come) and
after that, he was excited enough again to give me a fuck. We used the dog-position,
since I had concluded that for regular use it was probably the most practical.
This business of having sex with animals was so nice that I sort of wanted to share it
with Margie. When I was talking with her one day, the topic turned, as usual, onto how
difficult it was to find a nice guy.
"Of course," I said, "I know some girls who just decided to opt out of that picture
completely."
"What, by making the gay scene? Thanks but no thanks," Margie said." "No," I replied,
"by going for dogs."
"Dogs?"
"Don't knock it unless you've tried it," I said.
I didn't want to let on too specifically that I was actually fucking with my pet cocker
spaniel, in case Margie might really think I was sick for going in for something like that
Instead, I just made that cryptic comment about not wanting someone to knock animal
sex if she hadn't tried it, and left it at that.
Margie was pretty fast on the uptake, though, since the next day, she said, "you know,
you're right. Sex with animals can really be pretty neat."
"You're not kidding," I said. Now that she had come out and told me that she had tried
it, I could obviously let the cat out of the bag in regard to my own bestial experiences.
"In fact," she went on to say, "I don't know which I enjoy more: sex with my dog or sex
with my cat."
"Your cat?" I said, surprised. "Isn't he a trifle on the small side?"
"Oh, he's much too small to actually fuck with me," she replied, but don't think that
there aren't plenty of nice things that he can do with his raspy little tongue."
I was really intrigued by that. In fact, my clit stiffened up quickly as I thought how neat
it must be to have a cat's sandpaper tongue gliding all over your most super-sensitive
woman parts.
The next day was Sunday, which meant that the club was closed. I just couldn't get the
idea of what Margie had said about having sex with a cat out of my mind. I gave her a
call, and asked if I could come over and try out her cat She agreed at once, since she's
always been a very generous sort Margie owns a big standard-sized poodle named
Louis, and a large tomcat named Ferdinand. I was sure that in the prick and tongue
department my Tango was a match for her Louis any time. But what I wanted to see
was what her cat Ferdinand was like when it came to giving pleasure to twat.
She let me have the cat after I stripped down and lay on the sofa. She held it between
my legs, and it started in on my cunt right away. Margie had already gotten it
accustomed to licking twat, so it knew what it wanted to do, and how to do it.
Lick! Lick! Lick! It was licking very fast, just like it was licking-cream out of a bowl.
And that sandpaper tongue was every bit as exciting as Margie had said it was. Already,
on about the second lick, I had thought that I would be coming in no time flat if the
action kept up like this, and in fact, it just got better.
A cat's tongue isn't nearly as big as a dog's, of course, but since it's so small, there isn't
any place where it can't fit. In fact, it even can get inside the vagina, and if you don't
think that feeling that raspy tongue surface on the inside of your twat isn't something
else, you're very much mistaken. I was rubbing my tits while all this was going on,
playing with the nipples and running my fingers over the smooth white skin too, but
the action that I was able to give myself above the waist couldn't begin to compare with
what I was getting below the waist. Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!
Then, when the tongue brushed right against the clit again, I started to come. And the
cat just thrust his triangular face up against my spasming, agonized cunt and continued
to lick.
"Uh! Uh! UHHHHH!" I gasped as the spasms tore through me.
"Not bad, huh?" Margie asked.
"Not... bad... at... all..."
"After I had sort of gotten my breath back and my head back together a bit," Margie
said, "of course, if you want you can take care of his prick."
His prick! I had forgotten all about it. The thing was sticking out in all its rampant
glory. The animal had obviously gotten very excited while licking my cunt, and now
needed someone to help him get his rocks off.
"If your cunt's too tired, you can feel him off," Margie suggested. "About the only other
thing that you can do is to blow him, I suppose, since his prick is obviously too small to
be able to do much for your cunt."
"When you blow him, aren't you afraid of having his claws so near your face?"
"I wrap his paws up in handkerchiefs first," Margie explained.
Suddenly, I had a brainstorm. I took the cat in my hands and lowered him so that his
prick was resting against the outside of my cunt. Then, I moved my hips slightly so that
the cuntlips rubbed against the animals little dick.
That was a nice sensation for him, of course, and he caught on immediately to the
possibility of doing the fucking himself. He started to buck his hips back and forth
right away, while I lay back and enjoyed the feeling of being passive.
"That's pretty clever," Margie said.
I didn't say anything in reply, because I was already too excited to want to concentrate
on anything but the feel of, the cat's dick sliding back and forth against my labia.
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck!
Sometimes, the sliding penis would brush against my clit itself, and at times like that, I
would just about nearly come.
He was getting me wound tighter and tighter with the stimulation that he was affording
my cunt. I found myself arching my back in passion. There were little beads of sweat on
my forehead, and I was tossing my head from side' to side.
Almost there... almost... almost...
One more thrust of the diminutive prick, and I was coming! I felt the first come-spasm
slam through my body, followed by another, and another, and another! I was not
merely coming, I was coming really hard!
"AHHHHHH!" I moaned as I felt wave after wave of the most intense female pleasure
course through my body. Coming, was I ever COMING!
"You know, I can hardly wait to try that," Margie said.
"It's really fine. Thank's for letting me use him. If you ever want to have two dogs at
once lay it into you, just give me a call. I'm sure that Tango would love to have another
cunt to try his stuff on."
From then on, I've found my sex life becoming more and more exclusively associated
with animals, and particularly with my dog Tango. A week ago, I started to worry about
the fact that I no longer seemed to show very much interest sexually in guys. So, I
decided to make a pickup.
That was no problem. The character's name was Ted, and he seemed like a nice enough
guy. And I guess he was a nice enough guy, to be honest about it. There certainly
wasn't any really weird action of the kind that I had gotten from that creep Quentin.
Ted was just interested in a good bang, and what was more, he was able to supply me
with it.
"Let's start off with a sixty-nine," he said.
That was fine by me. It had been so long since I had felt a guy's tongue on my cunt
that I had almost forgotten what it was like. It would be nice to have Ted refresh my
memory.
We got into position, and I slipped my mouth over his cock. It was a nice big cock,
good and firm. His balls were large, and pulled up tight under the prickroot. I started to
suck on the penis at just the moment that Ted's tongue went darting out over my twat.
"This guy has technique," I said to myself.
He did, too. He knew how to work my cunt so as to provide the maximum amount of
stimulation that would excite me but not bring me to a come right away. His tongue
danced over the surface of the labia, wetting the tender pink things. Of course, they
were pretty wet with cunt-juice already, but no matter.
I wanted to show that I was as good on prick as he was on cunt. I sucked on the root of
his thing for a while, with the tip of the prick way back against the back of my mouth.
Then, I moved my lips on up so that I could concentrate on the super-sensitive place
where the knob of his penis joined the shaft.
All the while, I was using my fingers to give his balls a good time. I kneaded and
squeezed the ball sack, and tickled the hairy surface of the thing.
His tongue was probing deep, deep into my pussy now, and then being drawn suddenly
back into his mouth so as to carry as much of the female fluid with it as possible.
I felt my muscles tense, and knew that I was right on the edge of my come. Well,
judging from the feel of his penis, he certainly wasn't far from his at all.
As soon as I felt the first spasm of my come shudder through my body, I pressed my
lips tightly against the spot where the knob and shaft of his prick joined. The result was
that his cock exploded into my mouth while my pelvis bucked and heaved to the force
of its wild come! Come! Come!
He kept on licking me for a while after we had finished. It was as if he were trying to
lick my cunt dry. That was a losing proposition if there ever was one, since the more he
licked, the more cunt juice that I secreted.
He finally gave up, and I took my lips off of his cock. I slurped the stuff around in my
mouth, before swallowing it down.
One thing about Ted, and that was that he sure wasn't the kind of guy who can only
manage one shot. In fact, we had hardly finished the drinks that he poured after the
sixty-nine before he wanted to go at it again.
This time he suggested that he take me dog-style. I thought that that was sort of a neat
suggestion, since it would enable me to make a direct comparison with the kind of
action that I got from my cocker spaniel.
I got onto my hands and knees and he got behind me. Then, he slid his penis into my
vagina As he worked his cock back and forth, I had to admit that it was doing a
perfectly competent job. It was good and hard, and he was moving it skillfully.
In... out... in... out... He started kind of slowly, unlike a dog, which goes at pretty much
the same tempo throughout. My hips were moving in time to his, and I could feel my
labia pull against my clit.
In! Out! In! Out! He was really picking up speed now, really laying it into me. And he
had his hands all over my tits, too, cupping the things and pressing them up against my
chest. I had to admit that that was one place where he had it all over a dog. A dog can't
do a thing for your tits, despite the fact that the things are just about crying out for
action as they hang heavily away from your body. In! Out! In! Out! Buck! Buck! Buck!
Buck! My breath was coming in short gasps that were in time to his thrusts and my
body was swaying as he continued to lay it into me with that prick of his. Only a few
more strokes would be needed to get me off. Just a very few more...
He speeded up the tempo even more, and I felt that each stroke was the one that was
going to bring me off. But he was a real master at the art of keeping a woman hanging
fire so that the fuck could go on and on and on, for the mutual pleasure of both
partners...
Then, he pulled his cock way, way back, and I sensed that this was the stroke that was
going to bring us both off. In he slid, really slowly, really hard. In... in... in...
I knew that this was it. I just knew it. Just knew it...
In... in... in...
My whole body tensed in preparation for the come.
Then, suddenly just as the tip of his prick bottomed out against the entrance to my
womb my cunt exploded in a series of wild pulsations.
That brought him off, and as my twat gripped furiously at his rod, the thing gushed
gob after gob of mancream into my cunt, almost as if it hadn't come in my mouth just
a few minutes earlier.
It had been a good come. There could be no question about that. Ted was a good
cocksman, and like I said, he wasn't a bad guy, either. But I had to admit to myself,
that I wasn't all that interested in seeing him again, and for some intangible reason, I
much preferred the action that I got from my cocker spaniel to Ted's perfectly excellent
fuck. That seemed so unnatural to me, though, the more I thought about it, that I
decided that maybe it would be a good idea if I talked this whole business through with
a professional. So, I came to see you, Doctor.
It had never been determined by researchers whether certain professions attract a
certain personality type, or whether they actually mold and determine it. My own guess
would be a combination of the two. A woman who did not have a personality like
Maureen's would not have been' interested in becoming a stripper, and the life she led
emphasized and accentuated traits that were already quite visible.
Be that as it may the kind of personality disorders that she gave evidence of (and they
were quite extensive) are ones that are often found in women who engage in some form
of commercial sex: a distrust of men, an inability to get really close to a man
emotionally, and a tendency to use fantasy to make up for the unsatisfactory sides of
their emotional life.
Maureen got into stripping through a pickup. That indicated clearly that she was
already into casual sex at the time that she still worked as the waitress in a greasy
spoon. I mention this not out of any kind of puritan disapproval of sex, but because a
willingness to engage in one-night stands is often an indication of an inability to find a
deeper form of sexual and emotional commitment.
The kind of men whom she met as Kiki LaFlamme further strengthened a distrust and
indeed in some senses dislike of men that was already present. When women present
themselves as commodities, there is usually no lack of men who are willing to treat
them as such. Her sex life was not merely one of endless one-night stands and pickups,
but it involved pickups of men who sometimes enjoyed humiliating and debasing her. I
felt that there was a certain masochistic component to her personality, and that in a
sense she rather sought out humiliation and degradation.
Strippers and prostitutes usually cling onto a dream of some kind. As T. S. Eliot said in
Murder in the Cathedral, "Humankind cannot bear very much of reality." The desire
for a husband, etc., is more or less typical.
What is atypical is the way in which Maureen/Kiki was willing to submerge this in her
new-found attraction for dogs. Clearly, she spoke of her cocker spaniel almost as if it
were a human lover, and indeed on various occasions, men were compared unfavorably
to the dog as lovers. In short, in a very strange fashion, Tango became to actual fantasy
fulfillment. It was as if instead of waiting forever to find her perfect lover, she had
decided to invent him out of whole cloth. And since men were so rotten, only a dog
would do, a dog which would be affectionate and sufficiently devoid of real personality
to permit her to attribute whatever personality traits to it that she wished.
Thus, she was allowing herself to go farther and farther astray from reality, and farther
and farther down a path which could lead not merely to an end to all hopes (and
practically they were always slim) for a normal life, but to frankly pathological decision.
The kind of fantasy she had when she was walking the dog in the park is only
acceptable on the condition that it be kept much more firmly in check than she gave
any indication of being able to do.
Clearly, long-term and intensive therapy was in order, and she agreed to undergo it.
The first task that I had was to get at the insecurities, particularly in regard to men, that
had led to her sexual life having never ( as it turned out) been anything more than a
series of one-night stands. This was a long and difficult process indeed, but it eventually
became clear that much of the blame should be attributed to an unhappy childhood that
she had had, with a cold and rejecting father. Strangely enough, her early physical
development had played a part too. Her childhood had already made her distrustful of
men, and had given her a tendency to try and win their approval through physical
means. (There was a strongly incestuous component to her relationship with her
father.) The boys at school were attracted to her by her breasts, but ignored her already
rather aloof personality. Her tendencies thus found themselves very considerably
strengthened and reinforced.
I also sought to convince her that an involvement with a dog was not emotionally a
satisfactory substitute for involvement with a man, and though she was very stubborn
on this point, she eventually conceded it. I then sought to show her how her negative
attitudes towards men led her to choose the kind of men who fulfilled her dubious
expectations of them.
With her hostility towards men resolved, she was able to give up on the one night
stands and concentrate on a steady boyfriend, who showed a marked degree of affection
for her, affection which she was now able to return. He was willing to support her, and
she left her job at the Tropicana. As to whether the relationship will become a
permanent one is not clear yet. But even if it does not, indeed, even if she has to go
back to work as a stripper, I am confident that she will be able to find another
boyfriend, and perhaps eventually a husband, whom she can relate to emotionally. And
now that she has seen what sex with love can be like, she has lost her interest in dogs as
sexual partners.


Case History 5

Emily G. was an attractive woman of thirty-two, with a friendly open sort of face that
even her obvious distress and unhappiness could not entirely disguise. She struck me as
representing almost the perfect physical type for the kind of commercials on television
which show a pretty young housewife using some new miracle product in order to get
her floor super clean or her wash super-white.
"I suppose that maybe I should start from the beginning and tell you everything, but I
really don't know how I'm going to be able to do that, Doctor. I'm so ashamed of what
I've done, and everything is such a shambles.
"You're married, aren't you Mrs. G.," I said, looking down at the sheet which she had
filled out.
"Yes, she said, but I don't know for how long. That's why I've come to see you as a
matter of fact. I'd like to try and save my marriage, but I'm not sure that it's possible.
Not without continuing to do the filthy things that my husband insists on. I don't
know if a marriage is really worth anything if you can't keep a little bit of self-respect."
There was a straightforward dignity about the way in which she said that which was
very impressive.
"What sort of things is it that your husband makes you do?" I asked.
"You name it, he's asked me to do it," she said. "And it's not as if I'm one of those
prudish housewives who insists on undressing in the closet and is shocked when her
husband asks her if she would like to sixty-nine. Far from it. In fact I've got a pretty hot
little vagina, and one of the reasons that I married Stan was that he was good in the
sack. He always showed himself to be pretty inventive and imaginative when it came to
the bedroom, but lately his inventiveness and imagination has gone pretty far afield.
And I'm not sure if I'm alright in the head, seeing as I've gone along with quite a bit of
his stuff. Why I've even fucked with dogs just to please him."
The tone of voice with which she said that seemed to indicate that fucking with dogs
was way up at the top of her list of the awful things which Stan made her do. "You
have had sex with dogs?" "Yes. You don't believe me?" "Certainly I do," I said. "In fact,
I've had another patient in here today who had sex with dogs on a regular basis. But
maybe you'd like to tell me all about your involvement with them and with the other
things that Stan made you do. Then, I'll get a better idea of what you should do, and
whether you would benefit from therapy."
"All right, she said. I'll concentrate on the dogs, because believe me, Doctor, as far as I
was concerned, that was really the straw that broke the camel's back..."
I've been married to Stan for six years, and like I told you, I always liked the way in
which he had a lot of imagination when it came to the bedroom. He always liked to
fuck a lot, too. He has a good hard prick, or at least he used to. It's not been so great
lately, and I've wondered sometimes if that isn't why he started getting the off-beat
ideas of things for me to do.
A year ago, he told me that he thought we were in a rut sexually, and said that he
thought it would be good for both of us if we would make the partner swapping scene.
That kind of surprised me, since to tell the truth I was perfectly satisfied with the action
that he was giving to my cunt, and hadn't ever felt any particular desire for anyone
else's prick.
He wouldn't let up on the topic, though, and just kept pestering me and pestering me
until I agreed.
As a matter of fact, he was so confident of breaking down my resistance that it turned
out that he already had another couple lined up as partners.
The other couple were called the Y.'s, Fred and Mary, and they were nice enough
people. The kind that you wouldn't mind having over for a barbecue from time to time,
and things like that. Well, that's just exactly what we did, except that the high point of
the barbecue was a big mate-swap.
My feelings about the mate-swapping business were kind of mixed. On one hand, I felt
a bit unhappy about it. I felt something very private about me and about my marriage
was being sort of invaded. On the other hand, Fred had a good hard prick, in fact one
that was harder than Stan's. There could be no doubt at all about the fact that I got a
good bang out of the thing, so I didn't object too strenuously when Stan suggested that
we continue with the mate-swapping scene, and work to enlarge our circle of
"acquaintances."
Pretty soon, I had gotten so used to the business that I hardly thought about it all that
much any more. I figured that it was something that I didn't really care for all that
much, but if it was necessary to hold on to Stan, then it was a price which I was willing
to pay.
Then Stan suggested that I go in for a bit of bi-action with the wife of one of the guys
who participated in our little group. I really put my foot down on that one, because I
certainly don't have any lesbian tendencies, but with Stan, when I put my foot down, it
has a way of not really staying down. He has a way of prying it off the floor, so to
speak.
The bi business really kind of sickened me, and I told Stan in no uncertain terms that I
wasn't going to repeat it. He agreed, and in fact several months went by before he
mentioned it again. It was obvious then, though, that he was about to start a whole new
pressure campaign designed to get me to accept bisexuality, when all of a sudden he
dropped it. The reason that he dropped it was that he had a new kinky interest in his
life: watching me have sex with dogs.
We owned a dog already, a big, friendly Dalmatian named Fireplug. I had always gotten
on well with the creature and as a matter of fact, I did a good deal more of the day-to
day business of taking care of it than Stan did.
We were in our bedroom when it all began, and about to have sex. I'd been wanting a
good bang all day, and he was about to give it to me.
"Lie face down on the bed, and I'll get you a nice surprise," he said.
I could guess that the surprise would be sexual, but I didn't have any idea as to what it
would actually be. Well, I love surprises, so I did as he asked. I had my legs slightly
spread, and was waiting for his cock to go sliding into my cunt, or for something
similar to happen, when I felt a warm, wet soft something slithering across my cuntlips.
Whatever it was, it certainly felt good, but I couldn't imagine for a moment what it was.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! It certainly felt like a tongue, but I knew that Stan's tongue didn't
feel anything like that at all. , "Can I look now?" I asked. The mysterious something
had gotten me pretty well worked up, as Stan could easily tell from the tone of my
voice. I guess he figured that that meant that it was safe for him to say, "Okay, you can
look."
I glanced around, and to my astonishment saw that Fireplug was then behind me. It
was obviously his soft doggy tongue that was slurping away in such a tantalizing
fashion on my cunt!
"Stan!" I said, horrified. I had come to expect some pretty odd things from him in the
prick department, but nothing quite so offbeat as this.
"Don't you like your surprise?" he asked. There was something disarmingly innocent
and little-boy-like about the way in which he asked that but there was also perhaps the
hint of a threat that he would get really angry if I turned out not to like my surprise.
"Sure...," I said. "It's just that it really is quite... a... surprise..."
You may think it odd that I didn't kick up more of a ruckus then and there. But like I
said, I was kind of used to Stan's odd sexual tastes, nd besides, in many ways I'm a
rather passive individual. I try and stay out of trouble.
There was another fact involved too, and maybe it was the deciding one: the dog really
had gotten me pretty turned on. His tongue was slithering all over my cunt gliding into
my most private and intimate little nooks and crannies, and as a result, I was just plain
hot! Lick! Lick! Lick! The tongue had a way of brushing over my slit that really wound
me up. I was already breathing heavily and wiggling around on the bed. Stan could see
the signs of my arousal, and was very pleased by them. In fact, when I glanced in his
direction, I saw that he had his prick in his hand and was rubbing it hard.
Lick! Lick! Lick!
The damn dog had just about gotten me to my flashpoint. Just about... .just about...
"Like it ?" I heard Stan say.
"Yeah," I grunted, and at that moment I think that I was being completely truthful.
Then, suddenly, the tongue brushed right over my throbbing clit and that was enough
for my little trigger to send my whole body shuddering off into an absolutely frantic
come! Come! Come!
"Uhhhhhhh!" I moaned as I felt the force of the orgasm rip through my palpitating
body.
And still the go licked away with his tongue, slavering over my tingling, aching,
agonized pussy-parts.
My hips bucked and heaved on the bed, and I buried my face in the pillow as I sought
to somehow express the fantastic passion that I felt surging through me.
Finally, I stopped coming, and I weakly raised my head and looked at my husband. He
was standing there with long threads of semen hanging down from his cock. Obviously,
he had beaten himself off while watching me and the dog. That kind of disappointed
me, since I had been looking forward to a good fuck from him, and he's not usually all
that great on the second shot, or for that matter, even all that capable of a second shot.
"Don't worry, honey," he said, "you play along with me, you'll get your prick."
"Not from the dog," I said, thinking that I guessed in which direction his thoughts were
heading.
"Not from the dog," he promised.
"Well what do I do?"
"Look at the poor fellow's prick," my husband said.
I glanced in the direction of the big Dalmatian and saw that his cock was indeed all the
way out of the prick sheath and looking very, very stiff.
"Don't you think you owe it to him to to take care of him there after he gave you such
a nice come?" my husband said.
"But you said that I wouldn't be fucking with the dog," I exclaimed, almost in tears at
the way in which I thought he was manipulating me.
"Don't worry," he said. "I don't plan on you fucking with Fireplug. What I thought you
could do would be to either feel him to a come, give him a blowjob. That'll give my
prick time to recover, and then I'll let you have a fuck that you won't forget for quite
some time." Well, it didn't look like I had much choice if in fact wanted to get some
prick. And besides, feeling the dog to a come didn't strike me as so bad.
"You could choose to blow him," my husband said, in a tone that indicated perfectly
clearly which thing he would prefer to watch. "You said that I could feel him off," I
relied. "Can't I, please?" "All right, this time," he said. I reached out and took the penis
in my hand. It felt so incredibly hard and male that I have to admit that I felt a definite
tingling in my twat on touching it. Then, I started to rub it, moving my fingers along
the length of the shaft with a slow, steady motion. The dog was obviously very excited,
but it was equally obvious that he was standing as still as he possibly could. He didn't
want to do anything that would louse up the setup.
As I continued to stroke the dog's prick, I sort of got into the swing of things. It was
sort of exciting to be feeling the creature up and I even added some playful new
touches, such as using my other hand to fondle and caress the balls.
The dog was breathing heavily, and so was my husband. I glanced at him and was
amazed at what I saw. Like I said, he's not usually all that fantastic when it comes to
second shots. But he was already in the possession of another very respectable-looking
erection.
That was fine by me, because frankly this dog-work was getting me pretty damn
excited, and I needed some good hard prick in my cunt as soon as possible.
Suddenly, the dog's penis gave a funny little extra stiffening, and then gob after gob of
sperm came shooting out of it to land on my hand and on the floor.
I thought for a moment that my husband was going to come as he watched the dog
ejaculate. He later told me that what excited him was not the sight of the dog
ejaculating per se, but the sight of the dog ejaculating coupled with the realization that I
was the one who had made him ejaculate.
He looked at me and looked at my hand, which was glistening with dog-spunk. There
could be no doubt at all about what he wanted me to do. Well right at that moment it
was something that I wanted to do to, so I did it – I licked the salty-tasting dog-spunk
off of my hand.
Well I didn't have long at all to wait for my promised reward. Stan's prick, which as I
said doesn't normally ever get all that hard, and which is usually unable to get it up for
a second shot at all was as rigid as an iron bar. There was only one place that it could
get any relief, and that was where he was going to shove it.
That was fine by me, and I flopped down on the bed with my legs spread and my
femininity totally open, vulnerable and inviting.
In went his cock, way, way into me, and a somehow it seemed more charged with
electricity than it ever had before. The mate-swapping scene that I had been in had
made me sort of dissatisfied with Stan's prick, which didn't really shape up all that
impressively against the equipment of some of the other guys that I had been fucking
with. But at that moment, as Stan socked his cock into me after watching me give a
handjob to our pet Dalmatian, I would have matched his cock against anybody's.
In it went, then out again. In! Out! In! Out!
My body pulsed and quivered rhythmically in time to his thrusts as I sought to give
little counter thrusts with my cunt.
Buck! Buck! Buck!
Man oh man, was he ever laying it into me!
His hands certainly weren't idle, either! He's always been really good at tit work and
this time was no exception at all. He took my full breasts in his hands and lovingly
squeezed them, while bending his neck so that he could kiss the tops of them. Then he
started applying a more gentle technique. Instead of mashing the tits, he began to just
graze the surface of them with his hands, so as to drive me out of my need with longing
for some more of the really vigorous stuff.
Cock! Cunt! Cock! Cunt!
Two frantic people riding, riding...
Cock! Cunt! Cock! Cunt!
Winding up... winding up... winding up...
Then, he gave me a stroke that almost got me off, and I knew that the next one was
absolutely sure to.
He knew it too, and he was determined to make it as good a stroke as he possibly
could. He drew the cock back really slowly, so that I felt like my cunt was going to be
turned inside out. Then, back home he rammed it, inch by inch, while I gasped for
breath.
In... in... in...
"You like?" he grunted, not expecting a reply.
In... in... in...
I felt my muscles tense, felt my nerves wind up for the blast off. This was it...
He gave a final shove that put his cock the rest of the way into my cunt. I gasped as I
hung on the brink of my come for an agonizing split second, and then all of a sudden
my pussy erupted like a long-dormant volcano. I guess, that that business of feeling the
dog to a come had gotten me a lot more excited than I had thought, because you'd
better believe that was coming hard.
Wham! Wham! Wham! My pelvis bucked and heaved until I felt it was going to tear
itself apart, and my cunt clutched desperately at is penis as if it was afraid that the
organ was going to try and escape before it had completed its work.
Gush! Gush! Gush! Considering that this was his second go, he had quite a lot of
sperm. And even when that ran out and he was shooting dry the feel of that rod of his
quivering inside my pussy was very, very nice.
After we had both quieted down, he remained on top of me with his cock inside me. It
was going soft now which was natural enough.
"See," he whispered, "if you trust me, you'll always be able to have comes like that.
"I trust you, Stan," I said, "but why can't it just be the two of us?"
"I thought that you liked swinging," he said. His tone of voice indicated very clearly
that he regarded whatever acquiescence on that subject that he had pressured or cajoled
out of me at some time in the past as my definitive pronouncement on that subject, and
he did not plan to have the topic opened again.
"Of course, I like swinging," I said, lying so as to avoid a showdown, "but don't you
think that the business with the dogs is getting a bit extreme?"
"No." he said. And that was all he said. In fact he sort of sulked until I told him that in
fact I had enjoyed having the dog lick my cunt and had enjoyed feeling him off.
"So you're willing to keep your mind open on the possibility of doing some other
things with him?" Stan said.
"Yes," I replied, knowing that that was the only answer that he would be willing to
accept.
In fact, I had a pretty good idea what was implied by "keeping my mind open". That
was the way that he got me to do things. But the fact that I could recognize the thin
end of his wedges didn't mean that there was an awful lot that I was to do to defend
myself against them.
As I lay in bed, all sorts of different thoughts and emotions went whirling through my
head. I just couldn't make up my mind how I really felt about this latest episode in the
history of Stan's ever-odder sexual desires.
On one hand, there was something about the idea of sex with a dog which really struck
me as unnatural and kind of disgusting. On the other hand, I had indeed had a good
come when the dog had licked my cunt, and equally undeniable was the excitement
that I had felt when I had felt the firm dog-dick between my fingers.
Another thing that had to be taken into consideration was the way in which watching
me fuck with the dog had gotten Stan so worked up that he had been able to give me
the best fuck that I had gotten from him in years. If this was really all that important to
him, maybe it was my duty to play along with it. And maybe was to my advantage, too.
At the time, I hadn't seriously considered the possibility of breaking up the marriage,
and that meant that when I thought about long-term prospects for my cunt, I thought
in terms of Stan's cock. I knew that had been worried about seemingly declining
potency for the past couple of years, and to tell the truth, it was something that I had
noticed too. If my playing around with dogs was able to give his cock its youthful zip
back, then maybe there was something to be said for it after all.
As it was, Stan didn't ask me to do anything with the dog for the next few days. He's a
clever tactician, and he knows when to wait before pushing his advantage. He had
introduced the thin end of the wedge. Now what he wanted to do was let the idea seep
down into my brain, let me me become accustomed to it.
Well, that Saturday, we were supposed to have a swap session with one of the couples
in our little group. It was something that I hardly gave any thought to, I was so
accustomed to it.
The evening started out ordinarily enough, but you can imagine how overwhelmed I
was when he said to the K.'s (that was the name of the couple) "I've got a real treat for
you tonight. Or maybe it would be fairer to say that Emily has a real treat for you.
She's going to fuck with our pet Dalmatian while you folks watch!"
"Groovy!" said Henry K. "Outasight!" said his wife Celia. As for me I thought that I
was going to burst into tears right then and there. I mean, to fuck with the dog for
Stan's private enjoyment was one thing, but to put on a show like I was in some kind of
kinky circus was something else again. I was about to protest, about to tell Stan that he
could shove his sick games up his ass, when I caught the look in his eye. Once before
during a swap session I had publicly shown myself to be "prudish, and it was
something that he never stopped reminding me of. He would dwell at enormous length
on how I had "humiliated" him by my behavior, and so forth. I just didn't think that I
could put up with another one of his marathon sulks. And the last time, he had said, "if
you pull a stunt like that again, we're through." Well, I had some reason to believe that
he meant it – after all, it wasn't all that implausible that he might want a wife who was
more eager than I was to go along with his weird games. I loved the guy – heaven only
knows why but I still do in a way – and I didn't want to risk everything over something
like this demand of his that I fuck with the dog in front of Henry and Celia.
The dog was brought out and I waited for Stan's instructions.
"I think that the best thing for you to do is to get on your hands and knees so that
you'll remind him more of a female dog," Stan said to me. I did so, and the funny thing
was the conflict of emotions that was going on inside me. On one hand, I felt really
humiliated by the spectacle that I was being compelled to make of myself. On the other
hand, I was genuinely curious to find out what the dog's prick was going to feel like in
my twat. And maybe there was even a certain weird pleasure in being the center of
attention.
"Emily hasn't done this before?" Celia asked.
"Not actually fuck with the dog," my husband explained. "This is a new act hot off the .
drawing boards. But what she has done is feel him off, have her cunt licked by him, and
blow him.
In fact, I hadn't done the last of those things yet, but as far as my husband was
concerned, it was so certain that he would be able to get me to do it that there was no
point in not talking about it as something that had already been accomplished. Stan
was standing behind me, and he lifted the animal's paws up onto my back. I could hear
the creature panting heavily, and it was obvious that the previous little session that I
had had with him, when I let him lick my cunt and had then given him a handjob, had
made quite an impression on him. He obviously had quite a clear understanding of the
fact that when my cunt was in sight, something enjoyable was going to happen.
I felt the dog's cock probe around looking for my hole. My husband could have helped
him get it in, but I think that Stan was genuinely curious as to just how long it would
take the dog to sort things out for himself.
Then, I felt the tip of the prick slide between my labia. The animal was catching on to
what was required.
In the cock went, in... in... in...
Then, he started to buck away inside me, without a moment's pause. It was obvious
that he liked his work, too, judging from the gusto that he was applying to it. Fuck!
Fuck! Fuck!
"Wow, that's really something," Celia said. "I can hardly wait to try it."
She said that with very real enthusiasm in her voice. She was clearly the sort of woman
that my husband should have married, namely the kind' that really enjoyed swinging,
and went in for almost everything that was really far out.
In! Out! In! Out!
I had to admit that the sensations of the cock sliding back and forth inside my cunt
were really rather enjoyable. The motions of the thing were pulling my labia and clit
together, and it doesn't matter how that gets done. It's enjoyable any way it's done, and
that's that.
As I got more and more into the spirit of the thing, I started to fondle my tits. I was on
my hands and knees, and I had to use one hand to support my weight, but that didn't
prevent me from having plenty of fun with the other hand. I moved my fingers gently
over the top of the breasts, and gently flicked at my nipples. Then, I sort of made the
tits swing from side to side.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
The dog was really getting me worked up fast, really riding me for my come!
I felt my muscles tense felt how my breath was coming harder and harder, and knew
that my come couldn't be far off.
Almost there.. .almost... almost...
"Just gotta come!" I suddenly gasped. "Just gotta! Gotta!"
Suddenly, I felt something warm splatter up inside my womb, and I realized that the
dog was coming. I felt his cock quiver between my cunt walls as it sent his load gushing
up into me, and at that moment I came too, with great shuddering heaves.
"Look at her come! Man, is she busting her cookies!" I heard Henry exclaim like
someone watching a star athlete perform. The "yeahhhhh" that I heard from my
husband indicated very clearly just how wildly exciting he found the spectacle that he
had had me make of myself.
The dog stopped shooting and pulled out. I got unsteadily to my feet, and the others
pointed out how the dog-spunk was dripping from my cunt. They didn't mean to be
unkind. I'm sure of that. In a similar situation, Celia would have joked right along
about how the stuff was coming out of her cunt.
I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I wanted to clean up a bit, and also, I wanted
to try and get my thoughts together.
As I looked in the mirror, I said to myself, "Kid, is this really worth it? I mean, is Stan
really worth it?" There could be no question at all about the fact that that the dog-sex
was physically enjoyable while it was going on, but I wasn't sure that I could handle the
emotional aftertaste, so to speak.
It would take time for me to figure out how I felt about all of this, and so I decided that
I was going to play along with their sex games.
When I got back into the living room, I found Celia getting her cunt licked by Fireplug.
I guess that my husband had figured that that was about the best way there was of
putting some starch back in the animal's penis. And besides I'm sure that Celia had just
about begged him for the opportunity to get some of that dog-dick on her cunt.
As a matter of fact, it made me feel a lot better about the way I had been on show to see
someone else voluntarily taking the place that I had held in everyone's eyes. Obviously,
when I had been getting Fireplug's cock in the vagina, no one had been laughing at me,
or anything like that. They had probably all thought that I was giving a particularly
convincing and impressive demonstration of what a fantastic swinger I was.
I sat back on the sofa and watched as the dog's tongue danced over Celia's cunt. I had
to admit that there was something kind of erotic about the sight.
Lick! Slurp! Lick! Slurp!
Then, Celia was coming, and I saw her hips tremble and her whole body shudder with
the force of her orgasm.
"I'm coming!" she called loudly. "Coming."
Judging from the look of her, she sure was, and in spades!
After the dog had finished with her cunt, we paired off, but this time, we didn't follow
the usual swappers routine of exchanging mates. The reason, as far as I could figure it
out, was that both of the men had gotten so excited by the spectacle of their wives
having sex with a dog, that they wanted to show them just how much they appreciated
it, and just how excited it had made them. Put another way, the guys knew how superhard 
the little show had made their dicks, and they wanted to show off their erections
in the obvious place, namely their wives vaginas.
"Let's do it dog-style," my husband said. I guess he wanted me to be able to compare
his technique with Fireplug's. Or maybe he wanted to pretend he was a dog. He's a
sufficiently odd guy for me to not really ever be quite sure what he's up to at any one
time.
I agreed, and I have to admit that the sight of his dork really turned me on. It was
amazing how the business of watching me have sex with a dog was able to put so much
extra starch in his pole.
I got back onto my hands and knees, sort of curious myself as to how my husband
would stack up against Fireplug in this sort of direct competition.
He shoved his penis on into me, and I gave a little shudder of pleasure. When all is said
and done, his cock can feel pretty damn good. But there's something else to it, too.
Shared memories, memories of the times before he had changed, when I thought that
he was one of the all-time greatest guys in the whole universe. I wished that it could be
like that again, but I guess that you can never go back.
He was bucking away, now, sliding his cock back and forth on the film of pussy-fluid
that lined the inside of my cunt. And my cunt was responding, too, clutching at his tool
eagerly as he buried it to the hilt time and time again.
The business with Fireplug must have left me more wound up than I thought, because
there was no question about the fact that he was building me up to one of the all-time
great comes. This watching me screw around with the Dalmatian had taken ten years
off of his prick, it seemed, and when I felt his rod sliding back and forth inside me like
it was doing now, I felt that there wasn't a thing in the world that I wouldn't have been
willing to forgive him.
Back! Forth! Back! Forth!
And all the while, he was reaching forwards, cupping my tits in his hands, pressing
them against my chest, making them swing back and forth, and doing all sorts of other
things to prove to me that when it came to tit-handling, he hadn't lost a bit of his
touch.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Cock in cunt, sliding, gliding...
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Cunt on cock, clutching, grabbing...
Then, suddenly, we both came at once, and I really mean at once, too. His tool started
to spew its load at the exact same instant that my twat began to heave and shudder with
the excitement of my come.
Brrrrrrrrt! My twat felt like it was unwinding all at once, like a watch whose mainspring
is suddenly busting. All the pent-up energy, all the frantic come-need of the last few
minutes just burst out into the open in one wild final display of female ecstasy.
The fun and games weren't over for the night, though. We had a rest break, with drinks
and we even chatted in a normal way about normal sorts of things. It was as if the fact
that we were all naked as jaybirds with long threads of sperm trailing from the guys'
cocks and little damp circles spreading on the upholstery under the women's cunts, was
the most natural thing in the world.
But everyone there, or at least everyone but me, was most interested in the moment
when the festivities would begin again, and when everyone could get back to what he or
she regarded as the most important thing in life: fucking.
Stan wanted me to do some more dog-action, and I guess that at this point in the
evening my resistance had been sufficiently worn down that I didn't have much
objection to his wishes. The dog had given me some good comes that night, and there
was no reason that I shouldn't follow everyone else's example and regard the
combination of cock and cunt as the most important thing in the world.
Stan pointed out to me that it might be nice if the other couple could watch me suck
Fireplug's cock. It appeared that they were planning on getting a dog, and they thought
it would be nice if Celia could observe a bit of my expertise. Of course, Stan knew that
in fact I had not yet sucked dog-dick. But since he had lied to the K.'s about this earlier
in the evening, he did not have much choice but to choose this rather oblique way of
indicating to me that that was something that he would particularly like to see.
I got onto my hands and knees and placed my head under the dog's belly. But at this
point, Stan said, "that makes it kind of hard for everyone to see, don't you think,
honey?" So I tickled Fireplug on the ears, knowing that that would have the effect of
making him roll over on his back. I don't know why it did, but it was something that I
had noticed back in the days when he was just a dog and not yet a sexual partner.
All the other people sat on the floor nearby so that they could get a good view of the
action. At this point, I didn't feel bad anymore about being the center of attention like
that, but I knew that with everyone watching, I should really try and do a good job. I
certainly didn't want everyone to think that I was a Klutz.
I put my hand around the already stiff penis and gave it a squeeze. That made it stiffen
up even more. I could tell from the feel of it that it was totally ready for action.
I flicked the tip of it with the tip of my tongue. Pink skin on pink skin. And the low
whine of pleasure that the Dalmatian let out told me that I had to be doing something
very right.
Building upon success, I flicked the prick-tip several more times. Something about the
dog indicated that that was making him really frantic. I didn't want him to come too
soon, so I decided to ease up a little bit on that particular action.
I licked the length of his shaft, and then licked his balls, coating the things with saliva. I
even took the balls in my mouth for a while. Then, when I figured that his cock had
cooled-down sufficiently from the tongue-flicks that I had given to it I slipped my
mouth over it and started to suck.
The cock tasted good there, and for some funny reason, I found the fact that three pairs
of eyes were glued to the scene really pretty exciting.
I pulled away on the pink prick-skin, and then, to vary the pace started to slide my lips
fast up and down the length of his cock.
He was thumping the floor hard with tail, and letting out all sorts of other little sounds
that indicated he was very satisfied.
I was sucking away on the tip of the cock now, and I could tell that the come wasn't far
off.
I pressed the tip of my tongue against the tip of his cock and slid it down the length of
the organ. At that moment, the prick gave a little shudder, and started to fire.
As a sort of tour de force, I let go of the cock with my mouth and lifted my head up
slightly, so that the onlookers could see the semen actually shooting up through the air
into my mouth. Of course, there was quite a bit of spunk spilled that way, but then
there was plenty of oohing and ah-ing from my husband and the K.'s.
I swallowed what spunk there was in fact in my mouth, and that pretty much wound
up the evening, since it turned out that the other three people had masturbated while
watching me suck the dog's prick, and now felt just about as sated as I did.
When the K.'s had left, I felt like I wanted to be alone, to try and sort out my thoughts
on all this. There were aspects of the evening that I actually enjoyed, but at the same
time, I felt rather ashamed of myself for having enjoyed them, too. I felt that with every
day that went by, I had less and less of an idea of who I really was and what I really
wanted.
There wasn't any way that I could be alone, though, since of course Stan expected me
to sleep with him, though he was sufficiently played out – even counting the added
stimulation that he had received from watching me and Fireplug in action – that all he
was interested in was sleep.
That meant that I could at least lie there undisturbed and think about things. But the
trouble was that the more I thought, the more confused I got. I knew that I found the
basic idea of sex with dogs sort of disgusting. But I also knew that physically there was
something to be said for it. And what made it even harder for me to judge was the
knowledge that the fate of my marriage hung on the way I adjusted or failed to adjust
to this situation.
I had thought that I had done just about everything with a dog that it was possible to
do, but it turned out that I was wrong. The next day, my husband suggested a
threesome with the dog.
"Him, me and who else?"
"Me," my husband said. "You'll be fucked by him, while sucking my cock."
He lay on his back on the bed, and I got on my hands and knees. The dog stuck his
penis into me, und I started to suck on my husband's dick.
The thing that he said he wanted me to do was see if the three of us could all be made
to come at once. That seemed a pretty tall order, but the way he suggested that it could
be done was as follows: I would suck his cock until I could tell that he was about to
come. He'd let me know anyway. Then, having done this in a hurry, I would put him
on the back burner, so to speak, by easing up on the attention I was giving his cock
enough to keep him from coming, but not enough to let his passion die down any.
Then, when I felt that the dog was about to get me off, I would go back to work on his
cock. Presumably, the feel of my vagina going off would set the dog off, or vice versa.
It didn't take long for me to get Stan to his flashpoint. The mere idea that he was being
sucked by a woman whose cunt had a dog in it was enough to almost have him coming
all by itself. When I felt his had gotten really super stiff and ready, and when he had
grunted out to me that he thought that I should be careful I eased up on the attention.
Buck! Buck! Buck! That was the big Dalmatian laying it into my cunt, and he wasn't
wasting any time either. In fact, only about twenty seconds after I had sort of put my
husband's cock on hold, I felt my body tense for the come. I pressed my lips lovingly
against my husband's prick, and his come didn't arrive more than a few split seconds
behind Fireplug's.
Splat! Splat! Splat! That was my husband's cock shooting its wad against the back of my
mouth.
Gush! Gush! Gush! That was Fireplug emptying his own whanger into me.
Getting it from two ends at once! It was really something, in a goofy kind of way.
But the physical excitement was, as usual, followed by an emotional letdown. That's
why I finally decided to come and see you, Doctor. This has all gotten far too confusing
for me to try to handle it.


The reason, or one of the reasons, that psychiatrists and psychologists exist at all is that
many people are so involved with their emotions that they are unable to really even
determine what the emotions are, despite the fact that to a disinterested third party,
they can be as plain as the nose on someone's face.
Such was certainly the case with Emily G. She was so afraid that her marriage would
break up (and afraid not of losing what the marriage meant to her, but of the idea of a
breakup in the abstract) that she refused to recognize two fundamental facts: I) She
hated sex with dogs, and all other allied forms of "swinging"; 2) She had long ago lost
all respect for her husband. Perhaps a glimmer of that mysterious entity "love" still
flickered, but it was a faint glimmer, for love cannot long survive where respect has fled.
And she despised her husband for having dragged her to what she regarded as a base
and disgusting level.
She also despised herself for allowing him to do this to her. And her willingness to
acquiesce in his sexual demands despite the distaste that she felt towards them was in
part a form of cyclical self punishment for having allowed herself to give in to them in
the first place.
The reader may object that she stated that she received some physical pleasure from the
bestiality, and of course, there is a certain physiological side to sex which can exist
independently of emotional considerations: penis does feel good in vagina.
Nevertheless, there is no basis for thinking that this physical pleasure was intense
enough for Mrs. G. to have continued with the bestiality for its sake had there been no
prompting from her husband.
The obvious question which must be asked is why Mrs. G. put up with the bestiality for
so long. Here, I believed, lay the crux of her problem. Getting herself out of one
situation she did not like (the bestiality, and by extension, her present marriage) would
not do her much good if she just ended up being taken advantage of in a similar way in
the future.
Her basic problem was a fundamental lack of self esteem. She did not really think that
she deserved to have any kind of independent will or desires. She had a "weak
personality" as the layman would call it, which was a pushover for someone as
cunningly manipulative as her husband.
Therapy consisted of two parts. In the first part, I convinced her that she really did not
have much to lose in the marriage, and her disgust at the bestiality was strong enough
to finally convince her that that was true and she left Stan. Stan was a neurotic
individual who sought to compensate for his own fears of sexual inadequacy by
debasing his wife. Her mental and emotional health could only gain from a divorce.
The second part of the therapy is still going on. It involves discovering just why it is
that she has such a limited self-esteem, and trying to make her appreciate the fact that
she does indeed have the right to consider herself an autonomous person. This part of
the therapy is having to delve deeply into her childhood, where the roots of such
inferiority complexes generally lie. The process will be a long one but I am relatively
confident that success will be achieved in the end.
Conclusion There are a number of facts which the intelligent and sensitive reader for
whom this book is written will presumably have drawn from the foregoing case studies.
The most important one is that bestiality is an extremely heterogeneous phenomenon.
It can stem from mere physical frustration (as was essentially the case with Janet R. in
the second case), or it can be accepted in order to avoid something which the individual
regards as worse (Emily G.). All sorts of other differences exist and perhaps one could
go so far as to say that no two cases of bestiality are really alike.
Does this mean that we err in using the term at all? Is there really a bestiality deviancy?
Or does one simply have a form of behavior which can spring from totally unrelated
emotional causes that should not be linked together?
I would say that the term and concept of bestiality is useful but only on the condition
that we are careful how we use it. Certainly, there are many different factors that impel
women to have sexual relations with animals. But there are similarities too.
For instance, the element of sexual deprivation is very strong, as it is with most
deviancy. We can except Emily G., who was essentially pushed into bestial relations. All
the other women were made more susceptible to the idea of bestiality because they were
all to some extent sexually frustrated. Wilma T.'s husband was sexually inadequate;
Janet R. was a widow, and so on. Even Eve T., who took to bestiality on learning of her
parents' "swinging" was probably influenced by the fact that her strict moral code had
led her to cut herself off from most sexual gratification.
Secondly, because bestiality is considered wrong by society, it accommodates itself very
well to a need to punish. The person degrades herself in order to punish herself or to
punish someone to whom she is important either in and of herself, or as the symbol of
his prestige. Most people have difficulty really sorting out their feelings towards one
another, and in most situations, find a division of blame between themselves and others
very difficult to make. Thus, the elements of punishment and self-punishment are
closely intertwined. Eve T. is an almost perfect example of this, as is Wilma T.
Thirdly, and from the practical point of view of what therapeutic options exist, most
importantly bestiality, like most other forms of so-called sexual deviancy, is essentially
secondary and symptomatic rather than primary and casual. Bestiality was something
which permitted the women in this book to express certain tensions and frustrations
within themselves. But there is no reason to think that other outlets could have been
found. Maureen H. could have expressed her disgust at men by turning to lesbianism,
for instance, as so many of the other girls in her profession had done. Eve T. could have
concentrated entirely on promiscuity with boys, and perhaps carried the self
punishment/punishment-of-the-parents desire further by getting pregnant. And more
importantly, the thing that really bothers these women was the unresolved underlying
emotions. The lack of self-esteem, the hostility towards men, and so forth.
The layman is liable to think of psychotherapy in terms of eliminating people's desires
to violate established taboos. Fix them so they won't want to do "X" any more. But that
is not the therapist's job at all. His task is to make people happy and at peace with
themselves. To treat mere symptoms and leave the basic problem untouched is simply
to invite the problem to express itself in a different and even more destructive way.
Thus, one does not treat bestiality qua bestiality. One tries to reestablish the person's
emotional equilibrium. When this has been done, the bestiality, being merely
symptomatic, usually vanishes. Without a disease, a fever is impossible.
As I said at the beginning of this book, little has been written on the subject of bestiality
and this is extremely unfortunate, for it gives to the woman who engages in this form
of behavior a terrifying feeling of being all alone with her problem, when the contrary is
the case. That is why so many of the women in the above pages were burdened with
intense guilt. Guilt and un-happiness are synonymous, and guilt will never be
eliminated from certain forms of emotional illness until everyone, layman as well as
professional, learns to look at his fellow men and women with compassion and
sympathy rather than fear and prejudice.


Bibliography

Berne, Eric, M.D., Sex in Human Loving, N.Y., 1970

Bonaparte, Marie, Female Sexuality, N.Y., 1953 (trans.) Deutsch, Helen, M.D. The
Psychology of Women, N.Y., 1949

Freud, Sigmund, Totem and Taboo, N.Y., 1932 (trans.) Freud, Sigmund, The
Interpretation of Dreams, N.Y., 1965 (trans.) Henry, George W., Masculinity and
Femininity, N.Y., 1964

Horney, Jaren, M.D., Feminine Psychology, N.Y., 1967

Karpman, Benjamin, The Sexual Offender and His Offenses, N.Y., 1954 Kinsey, A.,
Sexual Behavior in the Human Female, Philadelphia, 1953 Krafft-Ebing, Freiherr
Richard von, Psycho-pathia Sexualis, N.Y., 1939 (trans.) London, L. S., M.D. and
Caprio, F., M.D., Sexual Deviations, Washington, 1950. London, L. S., M.D., Sexual
Deviations in the Female, N.Y., 1957 May, Rollo, Love and Will, N.Y., 1969 Stekel,
Wilhelm, Peculiarities of Behavior, N.Y.,1941

Tridon, Andre, Psychoanalysis and Love, N.Y., 1949

Weinberg, Martin S., Deviance, the Inter-actionist Perspective, N.Y., 1969


Note: In order to understand a phenomenon such as woman-animal sex, it is necessary
for the reader to know something generally about female psychology and the dynamics
of sexual deviance. As a result, books have been included on the above list which deal
with the latter two topics, rather than with bestiality per se.
-The Author
