Seducing The Beast
[aka 'Girls Who Seduce Animals' or 'Young Girls Who Seduce Animals']
by Leon Richards


INTRODUCTION 

The so-called "sexual revolution" has been a matter of public attention for 
at least a decade now, and one would think that hardly a manifestation of 
human sexuality would have been left untouched by sociologists and 
psychologists. But strangely, although the sexual life of the teen-age girl 
has been studied from many angles, one of young womanhood's most persistent 
desires has been largely ignored: the desire to have sex with dogs. 

"Sex with dogs? Are there really teen-age girls who want that!" even the 
well-informed layman is-likely to ask. And the astonisliment with which he 
would ask the question is a good indication of just how much ignorance 
surrounds the subject. 

It is all the more surprising that bestiality has remained so unremarked 
when one considers just how strong a female desire it represents. In would 
be astonished if there were a practicing psychiatrist or psychologist in the 
country who had never had a woman patient who admitted to bestial fantasies. 
And many of my colleagues have, like myself, heard thoroughly convincing 
accounts of actual consummated sexual relations between their patients and 
the latters' pets. For despite the fact that the conventional person for 
whom the established moral order is important often deludes himseif into 
thinking that sexual practices which really offend him hardly ever take 
place, this does not alter the fact that woman-animal sex does indeed occur, 
and far, far more often than most people would suspect. 

The subject of bestiality is so largely untreated that I have decided that 
it would be helpful to deal with a specific manifestation of it, so that by 
studying a part of the phenomenon in real depth, the educated layman for 
whom this book is written may be helped to a larger understanding of the 
topic as a whole. 

This book, therefore, deals with the subject of teen-age girls and dogs. For 
although teen-age females certainly have no monopoly on animal sex, they 
are, for reasons which will become apparent in the course of the book, 
perhaps more drawn to animals than older women are. And since the patients 
whose cases are recounted in the following pages are a-like in age, the 
reader will be able to see all the more clearly what the other factors are 
which can lead a young girl to want a dog's penis in her vagina or tongue on 
her clitoris (to name but two of the various acts which women engage in with 
dogs). 

In my opinion, no account can match a first-person one for accuracy, and 
that is why I have decided to allow the girls themselves to speak in the 
following pages, without making any attempt to eidt their language. In the 
following pages, the reader will find the narratives of five teen-age girls 
who for various reasons decided to engage in sex with dogs. Following each 
case is a short summary by me of what I regard as the most important 
features of the case. And a conclusion at the end of the work will help to 
tie the whole thing together and give the reader a clearer idea of the 
general phenomena which lies behind the specific cases which have been 
presented to him. 


CASE HISTORY ONE 

A number of years ago, I was engaged in a study of rural sexual practices, 
and went to the Indiana farm belt to obtain first-hand information on the 
sorts of sexual acts that country people engaged in. 

The small farmer is a traditionally very proud individual, and it was not 
easy to collect information. But I was gradually able to win the friendship 
of several families, and the members of them eventually were willing to give 
me some details about their sexual lives, partly, I think, because they were 
flattered that a city-slicker psychologist was interested in them. 

Cindy Mae, the F.'s sixteen-year old daughter, was clearly very excited by 
the prospect of telling her story to me, once she had gotten used to the 
idea. 

"Of course," I said to her, "You needn't worry about my telling your father 
any of this, and your name will be changed in the book to prevent anyone 
from identifying you." It is, of course, absolutely vital in all 
psychological investigations, to assure the subject of the most strict 
confidentiality. Or at least, it is vital in all but ones like this one. 

"Oh, don't worry about that," Cindy Mae said. "Dad knows all about me and 
Ol' Henry." 

"Ol' Henry is a boyfriend?" I asked, intrigued by what she had just said. 

"Well, not exactly a boyfriend. More of a dog-friend, if you know what I 
mean." 

"Ol' Henry is a dog?" 

"He's that big ol' beagle you saw snoozing in front of the living-room 
fire." 

"You have sex with him?" 

"Sure do. All the time." 

"And your father knows and doesn't mind?" 

"Knows? Gosh almighty, he watches!" 

As the reader can imagine, my investigative curiosity was thoroughly aroused 
by now. I had heard of many things in my years as a psychologist, but never 
of a girl who had sexual relations with a dog while her own father watched. 

"Well," I said, "I'm certainly very interested in the story that you have to 
tell me, so maybe you'd like to get on with it." 

"Sure," she said, and without more ado, she started in on her account.... 

I guess that I was about twelve the first time a boy fucked me. And man, I 
ain't never looked back since then. I mean, it sort of hurt that first time, 
what with Jake-that was the boy-busting my maidenhead and all, but through 
the hurt I could feel what a real neat sensation it was to have that hard 
prick shoved up inside my twat. As a matter-of-fact, since then, I fucked 
pretty regularly with Jake and with other boys, too. The only trouble was, 
though, that it wasn't all that easy to get hold of boys, not on a short 
notice or anything. We're all pretty isolated, with the farms a good way 
apart, and of course on a farm, there's always plenty of chores to be done, 
too, so I can't just go gala-van ting off to get my twat banged. 

One day, about a year and a half ago, I felt like I was going to go right 
out of my ever lovin' mind if I didn't get some prick inside me fast. You 
know how it is, doctor, when you want a fuck so bad you think there isn't 
anything in the world that you wouldn't do in order to get it. I tried 
beating myself off, even using an old soda bottle so it would be more like 
having a prick inside me, but man, there's all the difference between a soda 
bottle and a warm, throbbing prick that can shoot lots of jism up into your 
girl-hole. 

I had my morning chores finished, and there was about a half hour or so 
ahead of me when I could relax a bit before getting on to all the things 
that I had to do that afternoon. The trouble was that unless I got some 
prick in my cunt, there wasn't much relaxing that I'd be able to do, and 
half an hour wasn't long enough at all for me to get over to Jake's place to 
get my twat serviced. 

I was walking along in the farmyard when I noticed Ol' Henry snoozing away 
in the sun. We call him Ol' Henry, but there's still plenty of life left in 
him, as my clit and cunt were about to find out. 

Not having anything else to do, I sat down next to Ol' Henry and started to 
stroke him and tickle him behind the ears. For some reason, I decided to 
stroke him on the belly, too, as he lay there on his side. Well, my fingers 
just sort of happened to brush against his prick sheath, and did I get a 
surprise. I could feel the thing start to slide out into the open, just 
because of that little touch that I had happened to give to it. 

"Now ain't that interesting?" I said to myself. I put my hand around the 
prick sheath and stroked and rubbed it a bit. Sure enough, the rod slid on 
out into the open some more. 

It was getting harder and harder, and just feeling a hard dick between my 
fingers was really starting to give me some ideas. Sure, it was dog dick, 
but that didn't mean that it didn't feel wonderfully stiff and alive. If I 
got it up my cunt, I was sure that it would be able to give me a really nice 
bang. 

I was going to have to look kind of snappy if I wanted to get finished with 
Ol' Henry before it was time for me to do my afternoon chores. And now, I 
knew that I just couldn't pass up the opportunity that this dog-cock 
offered. My panties were already so wet that they were clinging to my 
cuntlips, really sort of chafing them, but making them more and more 
excited, too. 

I put my hand on Ol' Henry's collar and got him to get to his feet. Then I 
led him off to some bushes behind the house. I was a bit nervous that Pop'd 
find me, since I figured (wrongly, it turned out) that he'd give me a 
licking if he caught me with a dog's prick up my cunt. But I knew that Pop 
was busy at the moment, and even though you might not think it, there's 
really an awful lot of routine to farm life. I could tell that he would be 
busy for about the next forty minutes, and I also knew that since he never 
had much call to go behind the house to where the bushes were, there wasn't 
much chance that he'd do that now. 

I quickly stripped off my clothes and gave my cunt and tits a quick feel 
with my hands. I'd done that that morning, but getting a quick feel in on 
your cunt and tits is something that's always nice. 

The real action was standing there with his tongue hanging out and his tail 
waving back and forth. I could guess that he was still pretty excited from 
that feel that I had given him a minute or two before. A glance in the 
direction of his prick sheath told me that I was on the right track in 
thinking that. 

I knelt down and stroked the cock some more, until it was all the way out 
into the open. Then, I lay on my back. I guess that what I was hoping was 
that Ol' Henry would mount me right away. But it seems dogs are too dumb to 
figure out new situations like that. Ol' Henry had never fucked a woman 
before ('less Ma's got a secret she ain't telling), and even though he was 
really excited, with his long thin dick fully erect and pointing straight at 
my warm little cunt, he just didn't know what to do. 

You can guess how pissed I was at that. I mean, here I was all hot and 
bothered, and this prick that I needed was too dumb to slam on into my cunt. 

"Hell, though, 'guess it ain't his fault," I said to myself. After all, this 
was a pretty new situation that he was faced with. 

Then it occurred to me what I could do to help him out a bit. I figured that 
the trouble was that he would only fuck someone who looked like she was a 
bitch. And that meant I had to try and impersonate a female dog in heat. 

The "in heat" part sure didn't pose any problem. My cunt was just oozing 
pussy-fluid like mad, and I could hear Ol' Henry take all sorts of deep 
breaths through his nostrils, as he tried to get in as much of the female 
smell as he possibly could. 

The important part was the position. That's what was wrong. So I got up onto 
my hands an knees and presented my cunt to him on a silver platter, if you 
know what I mean. 

That still wasn't enough for him. He moved his face forward, and started 
licking my cunt, right at the moment that I was hoping that he was about to 
mount me. 

Of course, I wasn't too disappointed in that, since the feeling of that 
dog-tongue on my labia was pretty darn nice. In fact, I said to myself that 
having Ol' Henry lick my twat was the very next thing that I'd be wanting 
him to do. But right at this moment, it was good hard prick that my pussy 
needed. 

And it was good hard prick which it was going to git, too, even if I did 
have to take charge of the whole affair from the beginning to the end. I 
reached back, and took hold of Ol' Henry's paws. Then I lifted these up and 
placed them on my butt. 

That was all the inspiration that he needed, too. Once he was in a good 
approximation of the dog-fucking position, he was able to move on the main 
business without any trouble. 

I felt him move his paws up to my shoulder-blades as he closed on in for the 
action. Then I felt a sharp jab about two inches above my hole. 

The trouble was, I guess, that girls and dogs are built differently enough 
for him to have a bit of trouble finding my hole. Well, that didn't matter 
to me all that much. The jab itself was sort of neat, in a way. I mean, it 
did show just how hard his prick was. And the cuntlips against which he 
jammed the thing were pretty sensitive, of course. 

He poked again, and then one more time. I was starting to get a little 
impatient now, but a fourth thrust got the cock inside me. I felt the tip of 
it slip between my labia, and I knew that this was it. 

In he went. In ... in ... in.... Really good and really hard. He was so 
firm, and it was such a relief for my pussy to have something hard in it 
after waiting this long that I thought for a moment that I was going to come 
right then and there. 

As soon as he got all the way in, he started fucking. I mean, a guy 
sometimes-likes to wait a bit, sort of rest in your cunt to get you all 
keyed up and excited before he gets down to the real business at hand. But I 
guess that dogs just aren't put together that way. No sooner was he in than 
he started to pump. 

He was pumping fast, too, much faster than a guy would do it, and much more 
evenly. You know how it is, when a guy fucks, Doctor. After all, I assume 
you've done a bit of fucking yourself in your time. A guy often starts in 
kind of slow, and then gradually builds up the pace until you come. But Ol' 
Henry started in on my cunt at a good fast clip, and he kept that up without 
changing it much. 

That doesn't mean that it wasn't nice though. Ol' Henry's cock-action may 
have been different from what I was accustomed to from the boys in the area, 
but that didn't prevent me from enjoying the way in which each thrust of his 
prick really pulled my cuntlips back and forth across my clit, until the 
hard little button was just about yelling for some relief. 

My tits were hanging heavily away from my body-Even then I was pretty built, 
Doctor. And that was one of the things that I liked best about the fuck. I 
mean, it was a really different sensation, and of course my hands did just 
about everything that they possibly could so as to make the sensation all 
the better. 

For instance, I pressed my tits up against my chest and then let go of them 
so that they flopped down heavily. It was quite a feeling to have my tits 
tugging away on me like that. I also took a nipple in the fingers of each 
hand and pulled the breasts away in opposite directions, before letting go 
of them. They really bounced and jiggled when they hit. 

The real action was down below my waist, though.... 

IN-out-in-out-in.... Regular as clockwork, but an awful lot nicer, that 
prick of Ol' Henry's slipped back and forth on my fast-flowing pussy juices. 
Every time he thrust it into me with one of those rapid motions, I felt my 
cunt walls shoved apart, and gave a little gasp of pleasure. And it was just 
about as neat to feel the big cock slide on out of me again. 

He was really getting me worked up like crazy, now, really driving me wild, 
and even though I thought that I was going to be coming every time I felt 
that penis penetrate me, somehow I just kept hanging on the brink, waiting 
for relief, but also hoping that the fuck could go on and on forever. 

"Come! Gotta come! Make me come!" I gasped in time to the thrusts of the 
dog's long, thin prick. I was so far gone, maybe I really hoped that he 
would somehow be able to understand me. 

Buck-buck-buck-buck.... 

Needed it so bad ... just so bad--- 

Almost there.... I had to be coming soon ... just had to! 

Then, all of a sudden, I felt my body go kind of numb for just a second, and 
I knew from all the fucks I'd had with guys just what that numbness 
meant.... 

Hanging on the edge ... right on the edge.... 

Wham! Wham! Wham! The sensation flooded back into my body all at once, and I 
felt my pelvis heave and buck to the force of my come! come! COME! 

Cunt clutching cock, squeezing, grabbing.. . ! 

Cock firing spunk, snooting, gushing . . . ! 

And man, was it ever! I'd never have guessed that something as small as a 
dog's balls could hold a tenth that much jism. It seemed like Ol' Henry was 
going to go on shooting forever as I felt his cream spatter against my 
insides. And all the while, I was clutching my tits tightly against my 
chest, and just coming, and coming and coming.... 

After he'd finished shooting his wad, Ol' Henry pulled his prick right out 
of me in a hurry. I guess that that's something else about dogs that's just 
sort of instinctive. He'd had his come, and as far as he was concerned, the 
fun and games were over. 

That was a bit of a disappointment to me, since I've always felt that one of 
the best parts of a fuck is after you're done, and the guy leaves his rod in 
you for a while, so that you can feel it slowly getting soft. 

I wasn't about to complain, though. That old beagle had given me one of the 
best bangs that I had ever had in my life. like I said, it was completely 
different from the kind of fucks that you get from a guy, but that sure 
didn't mean that it wasn't exciting. My cuntlips were still tingling, and my 
clit took what seemed like forever to finally go soft. I felt totally fucked 
out, and for my money, that's just exactly how a female should feel after 
having some cock in her cunt. 

The little preliminary cuntlapping that he had done while waiting to shove 
on into me had been so nice that I was tempted to try and get him to give me 
a full-scale version of it even though I had just come. But I figured that 
there wouldn't really be time to enjoy it, and besides, now that he had 
gotten his rocks off, he might well be much less disposed to enjoy it. 

Well, it would be nice to have something to look forward to. And just 
thinking about that hard red dick made me lick my lips. I had a pretty good 
idea of the fun that Ol' Henry's cock and my mouth could have together if 
they were given a chance. 

I had to go back and do my chores, but you can bet that my mind wasn't on 
them. All that I could think about was what a fantastic bang I had gotten 
from Ol' Henry. 

That evening, I would have liked to take him into my bedroom, but Pop has a 
thing about not letting dogs in the house. He says that it spoils 'em and 
makes 'em lazy and good-for-nothing. So I knew that I'd have to wait until 
the next day before getting any more doggy fun. But that didn't mean that I 
couldn't have a good time with my hands. I lay back on my bed and pressed my 
fingers against my tingling clit and soogy labia. I actually took the 
cuntlips between my fingers and sort of pulled on them. I was arching my 
back now, and wiggling my hips around as I worked myself up to my come. 

My left hand was giving my tits hell, but of course, I had to alternate from 
one tit to the other, since my right hand had all it could manage with 
keeping my cunt happy. 

That didn't mean that my left hand wasn't doing a good job, though. First, I 
started off by really teasing and tantalizing my nipples. I always think 
that sex is a lot better when you have to wait for it. So instead of just 
starting in on the pink little nubs right away, I trailed my fingers in sort 
of circular motions all over the surface of my tit. Every time the fingers 
got close to my hard little nubs, the pink things would get even more 
swollen, and just cry out for attention. But then, after maybe just moving 
the fingers onto the edge of the pink part around the nipple (guess there 
must be a word for that, but I don't rightly know what it is) I would move 
them back out again. 

Finally, when my nipples just couldn't stand it a second longer, I moved my 
fingers in and took hold of the things, and really squeezed and rubbed them. 

Man! That felt so fine that I thought that I was going to come right then 
and there, but I wanted to prolong things a bit more, so I eased up on my 
clit a bit more, and that let me hang on without going over the top. 

I was playing the same game down below the waist that I was above it. I 
would trail my fingers back and forth across the outer cuntlips and places 
like that that are relatively unsensitive. Then, I would just brush them 
against the cuntlips themselves, or even against my clit. The only trouble 
was that my clit was so super sensitized that I knew I had to be extra 
careful there with how I handled it, other-wise I'd be certain to be coming 
right away. 

As I got more and more excited and worked up, feeling my and thinking about 
all the fun that I would be able to have in the future with that fine virile 
dog of mine, it got harder and harder for me to play the teasing game, 
though. My cunt and tits demanded action, and that was about all there was 
to that. 

I rubbed and stroked my cuntlips some more, and then wormed my fingers on up 
into my hole, up into the hole where Ol' Henry had shot his wad that very 
afternoon. 

My cunt is really quite tight, which may be one reason that I'm able to get 
plenty of enjoyment out of a dog's prick, even though the latter is so much 
thinner than a man's. And this tightness meant that my fingers really 
pressed my cunt's insides apart. I rubbed and pressed with my finger-joints, 
and the sensation was really something else. 

It goes without saying that my pussy was secreting a whole lot of 
pussy-juice, and my fingers could really feel it sloshing and oozing all 
over them. I finally pulled the fingers out and stuck them in my mouth so 
that I could have the enjoyment of tasting my own female fluids. 

Man, was I ever hot. I just had to come now, but at the same time, I didn't 
want the pleasure to ever come to end, either. So that when I felt that I 
was really on the brink of getting it off, I would sort of ease up on the 
pressure. I would stop fingering my nipples, and I would just drag my 
fingers in a kind of lackadaisical way across my outer cuntlips, which of 
course aren't very sensitive. 

Then, when I had cooled off a bit, I would go back to the teasing torment, 
until it would be time for me to "rest" again. 

I was just about to go out of my mind after about ten minutes of this, 
though, and so I decided that I finally just had to come. I took my right 
nipple between my fingers and started to press on it, while rubbing the 
fingers of my other hand frantically back and forth across my tingling 
labia. 

Man! That was it. I paused for second on top of th roller-coaster, and then 
d-o-w-n-n-n I came, with my pelvis bucking and heaving, and my whole body 
shuddering to the force of my come! 

""Ah! Ah! Ahhhhhhh!" I moaned as I felt spasm after spasm of pure female 
fuck-joy go rippling through my body. 

Then, it was over, and I lay there on my bed, panting and gaspingfor breath 
and cupping my crotch in my hand. I felt so sensitive down there that I 
could hardly bear even the lightest pressure, but it was still nice and 
reassuring to have my fingers there, somehow. 

It had been one of the nicest beat-offs that I could remember, largely, I 
think because of the way I had been able to dream about fucking with Ol' 
Henry while I was doing it. But I also knew that actual sex with him was a 
lot better, and the fun that I had had masturbating myself just made me 
really anxious for tomorrow to arrive so that the Beagle and I could have 
some good times together. 

In the morning, the first thing I had to do was milk the cows, and that's 
something that just can't wait. If you try and keep the cows waiting, they 
just bellow and bellow. And I knew perfectly well that if Pop thought that I 
was leaving the cows in pain, I'd be in for some rough sledding. Pop's a 
good man, but wow, is he attached to his herd of Herefords. In fact, I 
sometimes wonder if he hasn't had any fun with them himself.... 

After the milking, there were all sorts of other things for me to do, and I 
knew that I wouldn't get a real break until about noon. I was going wild 
with having to put off my fun with Ol' Henry. I knew that if anyone looked 
closely they could see a damp spot on the crotch of my jeans where my pussy 
fluid was making them wet. And the the was my panties were rubbing and 
chafing against my cuntlips was downright uncomfortable. 

What made it even worse was the fact that I could see Ol' Ol' Henry snoozing 
there in the yard like he always did. To be so near that prick of his and 
not be able to get anything out of it was enough to drive a cunt around the 
bend. 

Finally, though, my noon break came, and I went straight over to Ol' Henry 
and led him off into the bushes. I peeled off my clothes as fast and I could 
and got ready for action. 

The only question was just quite what action it was that I wanted to go in 
for. A fuck would be nice to finish up with, but there were sure some other 
things that I wanted to try with him first. For instance, I couldn't help 
wondering what that sperm of his tasted like, and the thought of getting my 
lips around that red prick of his really enough to make my mouth water. 

The only trouble was that I figured that if I sucked him off, it might not 
be possible for him to give me much of a bang later on. I've known plenty of 
guys who could just lay one shot right on top of another, but I had no 
earthly way of telling whether dogs were capable of that or not. 

The only other thing that left, then, for a preliminary bout, was for Ol' 
Henry to lick my cunt. That was hardly going to be second-best, though, 
since I had already had a sample of what that was like when I was trying to 
coax him into sticking his prick into me. More of the same would be very 
welcome. 

I thought of getting on my hands and knees again, but I was afraid that he 
might try and enter me, since he would associate that position with the fuck 
that we had had the day before. Besides, I didn't want to always do things 
with him in same position. That would be bound to get a bit boring, I was 
sure. 

So, I lay on my back, and taking hold his collar, pulled on it until he had 
moved up to a position that placed his head right above my crotch. 

I had been planning out that that wasn't going to be necessary. Once he got 
a glimpse of my cunt, and once he got a whiff of the female smell emanating 
from it (don't forget that by this time my whole cunt was just awash with 
pussy-fluid), he immediately moved his head down and started in on my tender 
twat with that long, thin tongue of his. 

Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! Man, did that ever feel fine! I just lay back with my 
legs spread and reveled in the feeling of total female passivity. 

I've had guys lick my cunt, of course, and its something that I really 
groove on, too. But there's a whole world of difference between the kind of 
licking you get from a guy and the kind you get from a dog. A guy knows 
where the most sensitive places are, and he moved his tongue around so as to 
give those places the greatest possible amount of attention. At least that 
what a guy knows his stuff does. But with a dog, it's just a question of 
getting as much of that cunt-dringle of yours into his mouth as he possibly 
can. The thing even though, that his tongue is so tremendously long and 
flexible that even though he isn't trying to stimulate particular parts of 
your cunt, the tongue manages to end up in just about every possible nook 
and cranny anyway. 

Slurp! Slurp! Slosh! Man, I just couldn't believe how good it felt to have 
that doggy-tongue on me like that. It was on my labia, on my clit, and 
sometimes even wormed its way up into my hole, as he sought to get every 
last possible drop of cunt-juice. 

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" I groaned with delight as I arched my back in an effort to 
force my cunt closer to his face. 

Not that it was possible for the face to get any closer, though. He had it 
nuzzling right up against my labia, and at times even tried to worm his nose 
up into my hole so that he could get more of that female odor that seemed to 
be driving him so crazy. That just made him sneeze, though, when he got some 
of my cunt-juice in his nostrils, and so he concentrated on licking from 
then on. 

I could feel my body tense, feel my nerves twist themselves in knots as I 
readied myself for the come. 

"Get me off! Bang me! make me COME!" I gasped. 

The last work coincided exactly with first shudder that ran through my body 
as the orgasm hit me. That BRRRRRRRRRT! The come hit me all at once, and I 
felt like a busted watch spring that was unwinding all of a sudden! 

My pelvis was bucking and slamming up into the dog's face, and he didn't 
mind that a bit. He'd rather feel the shocks of my cunt-lips pressing 
against his muzzle than give up for a second the pleasure of sniffing and 
licking at my cunt. 

Finally, the orgasm left me, but Ol' Henry's tongue sure didn't He hadn't 
had a come himself, of course, and that meant that even though I was 
satisfied, he was still licking away on my pussy like crazy. 

My pussy felt so incredibly sensitive that it was almost painful for me to 
get any additional pressure or stimulation. But I didn't really have the 
heart to break up Ol' Henry's little game, and what was more, I just felt 
too weak and fucked out to move. I just lay there, gasping for breath and 
trying to somehow get my mind together again. 

I was trying to decide whether the way to take care of Ol' Henry's rampant 
cock would be to let it inside my vagina or inside my mouth. On one hand, 
the last fuck that I had had with the dog had been so fine that I was very 
tempted to simply try and duplicate it. But then, I had never had a dog's 
prick in my mouth before, and I wanted to try out as many new things with Ol 
'Henry as I possibly could. 

Before I could make up my mind, something else intervened: Pop! 

He came out from behind the bushes, stark naked and with his cock looking 
like an iron bar. The look on his face told me everything that I had to know 
about what his intentions were. 

"Pop!" I gasped in surprise. 

"Hi there, Cindy Mae. See you've been having a good time. I suppose you 
won't mind sharing it with your pappy." 

"How did you find me? You're normally busy in the barn this time of day." 

"I may be uneducated, daughter, but I ain't stupid, that's for sure. When I 
see a healthy young girl like you lead a dog off behind the house, after 
looking all day at the watch that I gave her I know a thing or two about 
what's going to happen." 

There wasn't any anger in his voice at all. He pulled Ol' Henry's face away 
from my cunt, but he didn't do it in a vicious sort of way. 

"Sorry, dawg, but Pappy's got some rights too, y'know." 

And without more ado, he got down on top of me and stuck his prick into his 
own daughter's twat! 

I couldn't have resisted much if I'd wanted to, but to tell the truth, I 
didn't much want to, either. I mean, Daddy's a pretty fine figure of a man, 
and I could guess from the glimpse that I'd gotten of his prick that it was 
going to be every bit as hard as a girl could possibly want. I'd always 
wondered what it would be like to fuck with him, and here was my chance to 
find out. 

In he went, nice and firm. Fast, but not so fast that he hurt me. He rested 
for a second with his cock there inside me, and then started to sort of 
rotate his hips slightly, so that he was actually twisting the prick inside 
me. It was really something else, as far as sensations are concerned. 

Then, back out he pulled it. Slowly at first, then faster, until only the 
big fleshy knob was inside. I was already so damn worked up by the idea of 
having that prick in me, of being fucked by my own pop, that I was really 
afraid that he might pull his cock all the way out of me, and leave me there 
totally frustrated. 

He didn't plan on doing any such thing, though, and slid his cock back in 
again. 

He was going quite slowly at first, and it was obvious that he planned to 
gradually build up the tempo until we finally came together. That was in 
complete contrast to the fast-from-the-start handling that I had gotten from 
Ol' Henry the day before. 

In ... out ... in ... out.... Nice, long strokes, each one pulling my labia 
back and forth across the hard little clit until I thought that it was 
literally going to burst with excitement. 

And best of all, he was really giving my tits a workout. One of the troubles 
with having a dog for a sexual partner is that he isn't interested in 
fondling your boobs, and doesn't have any hands to do it with anyway. That's 
a particular problem for a girl like me who has supersensitive tits and 
really-likes them to get plenty of action. 

Well, that was just exactly what dad was giving to them! He was really 
kneading and squeezing them, just like a baker working some dough. He was 
being sort of rough, but not really causing me any pain. Just rough enough 
to let me know that he was in charge. 

Of course, something else was indicating that to me too, namely the rampant, 
furious prick that was sliding back and forth like mad inside my twat, and 
really driving me straight up the wall. 

Buck! Buck! Buck! The feel of things had really changed now. The long, slow 
strokes were replaced by much harder, more energetic one. He was really 
pistoning me, really driving me for a come! 

"Fuck me Pop! Fuck me! I want Pop's prick! Pop's prick! Pop's prick!" 

He was giving it to me, too, making my cunt so hot and horny that I had 
almost forgotten that it had been getting ready for some dog cock when he 
came along. 

Squish! Squoosh! Squish! I could hear the cunt-juices slurp around as he 
bucked his rod inside me.... 

I was just about there ... just about ... just about.... 

Pop really knew how to keep a cunt hanging fire. Every time he slammed that 
rod of his home into me, I was sure that he was going to bring me off, but 
something about the speed he did it, or the angle he gave the thrust, always 
kept me just a tiny, tiny bit short of the actual amount of stimulation that 
I needed to come. 

In! Out! In! Out! 

"Can't stand it, Pop! Just can't! Just can't!" I almost sobbed, and Pop 
could tell from the tone of my voice that I meant what I was saying. So he 
gave a couple more strokes that really did bring me right to the brink of my 
come, and then he pulled back for the final one that he knew would be enough 
to bring me off. 

Back he went. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. 

Then he paused for just one agonizing second more before starting to slide 
back into me. In ... in ... in.... 

Man, was he taking his time, and was it ever driving me out of my mind! 

One third in ... one half ... three fourths.... 

I was going over the top ... going ... going--- 

He rammed all the way home, and as I felt the tip of his prick press against 
the entrance to my womb, the come hit me, and my pelvis started bucking and 
heaving wildly, while my cunt-walls clutched frantically and the firm rod. 

The feel of my body exploding all around him was more than he needed to get 
his rocks off, and I felt the first gob of man cream splatter up against the 
back of my womb, followed by another, and another, and another! 

"Coming!" I gasped. "Coming so fucking, freaking hard!" 

And man oh man, don't think that I wasn't. My whole body was shaking like a 
tree in a thunderstorm as the shudders of come-pleasure tore through it. 

Gush! Gush! Gush! It didn't seem like Pop's prick was ever going to stop 
shooting, either. I had already pumped more jism into me than I could ever 
remember having gotten from another male, and there was still more to come. 

He pressed his hands tightly against my tits, too, and I just had the most 
total come-experience imaginable! Wham! Wham! Wham! 

Finally, we were done, and lay there gasping and panting for breath. His 
cock had finished shooting its load, but that didn't mean that it was in any 
all-fired hurry to get soft. I guess that with my pop, hard is sort of the 
natural state for his prick, almost. 

He pulled out at last, and said, "so how was that, daughter?" 

"Fantastic! You're not mad at me for letting Ol' Henry lick my cunt?" 

"I ain't selfish, daughter. 'Long as I can get some of the action myself, I 
don't mind you putting out for others. Only fair that a nice sexy chick like 
you should want to spread the fun around a bit. Matter of fact, I think that 
maybe you'd better do something right now to take care of that poor dog's 
prick." 

I glanced in the direction of Ol' Henry and saw that his cock was every last 
inch of the way out of its sheath. He had gotten all turned on by licking my 
cunt, and I guess that watching me fuck with Pop hadn't exactly cooled him 
down any. 

Looking at that cock, I couldn't help agreeing with Pop that I really did 
have sort of an obligation to take some of the pressure off of the dog's 
prick. After all, he'd already given me a good time, and it was only fair 
that I should try and do the same thing for him. 

My cunt felt far too fucked out for me to want his prick up it, though, even 
though the prick did look pretty nice. It was a choice between feeling him 
off or sucking his prick. I decided to do the latter, since I figured that 
it would give Pop more of a thrill to watch. And the look in his eyes 
indicated pretty clearly just how exciting he found the idea of watching. I 
saw the tip of his tongue creep out between his lips and slide along them. 

I got down on the grass on one side of Ol' Henry, and Dad got down on the 
other, so that we were facing each other under the dog's belly. That way, 
Pop was assured of getting as good a view of me sucking the dog's prick as 
was possible. 

Well, I was determined to show my pappy that his little girl knew something 
about cock-sucking. Though, now that he had had sex with me once, I figured 
that it was pretty-likely that he would want a more direct demonstration 
eventually! 

It's amazing how fast I can get worked up again. Here I'd already had two 
nice comes, and even though I had thought at first that servicing the dog 
would really be a bit much, just looking at that rod was enough to get my 
clit all tingly again. 

I moved my tongue up to the penis and gave a long, slow lick up the whole 
length of it. Ol' Henry gave a bark of excitement, but continued to stand 
perfectly still. I guess that he was enjoying all of this so much that he 
didn't want to do anything that might make the tongue-action stop. 

I licked away at the root of the prick, and at the hanging balls, before 
moving my tongue up to the end of the cock, which I really kind of slobbered 
over as I worked my tongue tip against the little piss-and-come slit. 

I had originally just planned to suck his prick without doing anything to my 
weary cunt. But I was so worked up that my hand got to my cunt before I even 
noticed what I was doing. I wormed my fingers into my slit and started 
pressing them against the tender cunt-walls while I used my thumb to poke 
and prod at my labia. 

This business of licking the dog's prick was really nice but as I got more 
and more excited, I knew that what I wanted was to suck. 

I slipped my lips over the end of the hard shaft, and then moved them down 
to the prick-root. That meant that the end was poked up so far into my mouth 
that it was almost making me gag, but that's the sort of gagging that I 
don't mind. 

I worked away at the root, and while I did so, my other hand, the one that 
wasn't busy with my cunt, took his ballsack arid started fondling and 
kneading it. 

Ol' Henry really sounded like a locomotive now. His breath was coming in 
heavy pants as he got more and more excited with every little nibble of my 
lips. I've always been amazed how a prick that seems like it's just 
incredibly hard can go on to get even harder and more rigid when a bit of 
stimulation is applied to it. 

I glanced in the direction of Daddy, and saw that his eyes were really 
glistening. I moved my head slightly so that I could get a good view of his 
crotch. As I suspected, he had his hand on his prick and was working away on 
it to beat the band That cock had just shot off its wad only a few minutes 
before, but from the look of it, it was as hard as it has ever been. 

I was moving my lips up and down along the length of the penis now, and even 
though my tongue was inside my mouth, I was able to use it to offer some 
additional stimulation to the dog's penis. 

Then, I felt the thing give a sort of extra little stiffening, and I knew 
that it was about to come. I wanted to come at the same time, and so I 
pressed my fingers really hard against my clit. 

Bingo! That was all that was needed to bring myself off, and I felt my 
pelvis started to heave and tremble to the force of my come at the exact 
same moment that the first gob of dog-spunk shot up against the root of my 
mouth. 

Splat! Splat! Splat! It was amazing just how full his balls were. It seemed 
like there was cock-juice everywhere. Trickling down my throat, between my 
cheeks and teeth, under my tongue, and still the hard, thin dog-rod was 
shooting away! 

When he finally stopped, and my own come subsided, I kept on sucking a while 
longer. The feeling of that big prick inside my mouth was just far too 
exciting for me to want to let go of it for a while. 

At last, I slipped my lips off of the cock, being very, very careful as I 
did so not to spill any of the precious male juice. I got up and walked over 
to my father. He was lying on the ground, his hand still on his cock, and a 
greyish pool on his belly. He had come while watching Ol' Henry and me go at 
it, of course. 

I smiled at him, then opened my mouth slightly, so that he could see the 
little lake of prick-juice there inside it. After that, I sloshed the stuff 
around a bit more with my tongue, before swallowing it. 

Just the idea that I was swallowing sperm (and dog-sperm at that) was 
exciting enough to cause my clit to tingle. There could be no question about 
it. The fun and games that afternoon had really been fine. 

"C'mon, daughter," Pop said, "we've got to get us some more chores done." 

From then on, my fucking with Ol' Henry has really been a pretty regular 
sort of thing, and Dad loves to come watch. In fact, he's said that watching 
is something that he enjoys almost as much as doing. 

Sometimes, we try something a bit special, like a fuck where all three of us 
participate at the same time. The first one of those, as I remember, 
consisted Of Ol' Henry banging my cunt while I sucked on Pop's prick. 

The way we did it, was for me to get down on my hands and knees, while Pop 
lay down on his back, so that my face was right over his cock. 

Ol' Henry was right behind me, and as soon as he saw that cunt of mine 
presented to him, he knew just exactly what it was that I wanted him to do. 
In fact, he had that prick of his inside me even before I had a chance to 
get my mouth around dad's tool. 

It was really neat to have something going on at each end, and it was 
interesting for me to be able to compare the feel of a dog's prick in my 
mouth (which was what I had had the day before) with a man's, and a dog's 
prick in the cunt with a man's. 

Pop has a fine rod, like I've told you, and it really felt fine to have it 
crammed into my mouth. And I do mean crammed, too. I know from experience 
with guys just how sensitive their cock is down by the root, but Dad's penis 
was so long that I could hardly get my lips all the way down there when the 
rest of the thing was inserted into my mouth. 

So, to get around that problem, I would use my fingers on the lower part of 
the cock while continuing to give my lip-attention to the knob and the place 
where the knob and the shaft join, which I guess is just about the most 
sensitive spot on a guy's body. 

And all the while, I could feel that dog-dick sliding back and forth inside 
my body. Back-and-forth. Back-and-forth. Always that same even motion. And 
don't think that my cunt wasn't enjoying it, too. I could feel just how 
incredibly wet my pussy was as the dog-cock worked away in it. 

My lips were about as energetic with Pop's meat as Ol' Henry was with 
getting my twat all worked up. I was sucking away to beat the band, and 
fondling and and caressing his balls and prickroot, too. From his hard, 
heavy breathing, I could tell that he was about to come. And the incredible 
stiffness of his cock, and the way in which his balls were pulled up so 
tight against the base of his penis, told me the same story. 

I wanted to have all of us come at the same moment, and since I was the only 
active partner here except for Ol' Henry, who was just going by instinct, I 
figured that the responsibility for timing it all belonged to me. 

The way I planned on doing it was to get Pop worked up as fast as I possibly 
could. Then, when I sensed that he was right on the edge of his come, I 
would put him on "hold" so to speak, easing up on the pressure just enough 
to keep him from coming, but not enough to let him cool down any. And, when 
I felt that Ol' Henry or myself was about to come (and it didn't matter 
which, since the feeling of my cunt going would set off his prick, and vice 
versa), I would give Pop that extra little bit of attention that would be 
all he needed in order to go over the top. 

I could tell that Pop was at that critical point right now, so I eased up on 
his cock some, while continuing to get those luscious thrusts in the cunt 
from my dog. 

Then, I felt my body tense up for the come, and I started sucking away like 
crazy again on the prick I had in my mouth. 

Suddenly, I was coming, and the feeling of my twat clutching furiously at 
his rod was enough to get Ol' Henry off too. And a split second later, Dad 
was coming, his rod gushing away like an oil well into my mouth! 

Come! Come! Come! Come! Prick! Cunt! Prick! Cunt! Coming, and coming and 
COMING! 

Finally my Pop's prick stopped shooting, and 

I felt Ol' Henry slip his cock out of my cunt. Having gotten it from both 
ends, I felt very, very fucked, and that means that I felt very, very happy, 
too. 

Anyway, that's about how things have been going on ever since, Doc, and I 
can't imagine a girl having a better arrangement. 

That last phrase of Cindy Mae's sums up the most important piece of 
information conveyed by her account. The total lack of any kind of guilt 
feelings which many city-dwellers feel about bestiality and incest. One of 
the reasons that I had gone to a rural area to study sexual practices was 
because I was curious as to just how different sexual attitudes might be 
there from those which I encounter in my normal practice in the city. It has 
been said that one of the troubles with Freud is that his theories are all 
based on a very narrow group of people: the Viennese middle class. Even 
though I have done various kinds of charity work, I was very eager to 
collect information on people different from thoe I normally work with. 

And this lack of guilt struck me as one of the most different aspects of 
rural sex compared to that engaged in by middle-class city dwellers. Most of 
the women I have talked with who have engaged in bestiality have at least 
residual feelings of guilt, even if by and large they have dealt 
successfully with the fact of their unorthodox sexual inclinations. But for 
Cindy Mae, sex was purely a matter of physical pleasure. If a dog's penis, 
or her father's penis, could provide her with a good orgasm, that was all 
that she was interested in. 

The casual attitude towards incest is one that was only to be expected. 
There's a saying that in the hill country, a virgin is a girl over five who 
can run faster than her pappy. But it was very interesting to seem the same 
attitude applied to animal sex. 

Of course, it would be a gross error to regard rural people as some sort of 
children of nature who don't share any common traits with city people. For 
instance, Cindy Mae's father's voyeurism, the fact that, as she put it, he 
would almost rather watch sex than have it, is probably not at all different 
in its manifestations and causes from the cases of voyeurism which Freud 
encountered in the middle class Viennese whom he studied. 

I had interviewed Cindy Mae purely for the sake of my projected book. I did 
not have time to engage in any therapeutic relationship with her, and 
besides, there was no reason to believe that any kind of therapy was either 
needed or wanted. Cindy Mae's reasons for having sex with her dog involved 
ordinary physical desire and perhaps also a natural-enough desire by someone 
whose life was rather restricted in scope to engage in something new and 
exotic. As she put it, a girl couldn't have a better arrangement, and though 
the arrangement in question might eventually lead to trouble with her 
mother, that was a purely practical question and one quite outside the 
purview of abnormal psychology. 

The reader may be interested to know that I found three other example of 
bestiality in the course of my rural investigations. I have not presented 
them here, since I wished to give as varied a set as cases in this book as 
possible. It is interesting to note in passing, however, that although in 
the other three cases, one of the females was motivated by essentially the 
same normal and non-pathological feelings that drove Cindy Mae into 
bestiality, while one of the other women was definitely very insecure and 
neurotic, and the third something of a borderline case, all three of them 
showed the same essential unconcern as Cindy Mae for having violated what 
most city people regard as a very important taboo: that which says that 
women should not allow dogs' penises into their vaginas. 

CASE HISTORY TWO 

"I dunno, Doctor," the pretty blonde sixteen-year-old said to me, "the thing 
is that I've started to feel really creepy about myself, and about this 
whole bag that I've gotten into. At the same time, the thing that I have on 
my mind isn't something that it's very easy to talk about. 

The blonde in question was named Suzanne T. and she was a student at a high 
school where I was filling in for a friend of mine who worked there as the 
school psychologist and who happened to be sick at the time. 

"Well, Suzanne," I said to the girl, "I can certainly understand her 
reluctance, since I don't think that I've ever had a patient who wasn't 
hesitant at first. After all, it isn't easy to open up the most intimate 
details of your life to someone who's a complete stranger, even if you know 
that he is a professional and only wants to help you." 

"And unless I open up and spill the whole works there isn't much help that 
you can give me, right?" 

"I'm afraid so. But one thing that you should bear in mind is that a lot of 
the things that people are most uptight and ashamed about are much more 
common than they think. Someone may be engaging in some form of unusual 
sexual behavior, for instance, and think that he or she must be the only 
person in the whole wide world who would do such a thing. But in fact, I 
have scores and scores of people coming to my office all the time with 
sexual problems which seem very offbeat to them but which are really pretty 
old hat to someone like myself who has spent his whole career studying human 
behavior." 

The reason that I had suggested that what was on Suzanne's mind might be 
sexual was that I have found that sexual matters are (as a result of 
cultural conditioning, of course) the ones that most people are particularly 
uptight about. So that if someone is very hesitant to tell me about their 
problem, it's a reasonably safe bet that some violated sexual taboo enters 
into the picture at some point or the other. 

In fact, I had hit the nail pretty well on the head in this particular case. 
As soon as I started to tell Suzanne about how seemingly exotic forms of 
sexual behavior occur more often than people think, I saw her give a very 
noticeable little sigh of relief. 

"Take lesbianism, for instance," I said, trying to strike while the iron was 
hot, so to speak, "although many women who have sexual feelings for members 
of their own sex are often very ashamed of the fact, the truth of the matter 
is that according to people like Kinsey, such feelings and desires are much, 
much more widespread than most people imagine." 

That was really a shot in the dark, since there was nothing about Suzanne 
that could have made me suspect that lesbianism was the thing that she had 
on her mind. But although I went wide of the mark as far as my specific 
suggestion was concerned, it did in fact cause her to open up and give me 
something more of an idea of what it was that was bothering her. 

"It isn't anything like that, Doctor," she murmured. "It's a lot weirder 
than that, I'm afraid. That's just exactly what has me so terribly bugged. I 
fuck with animals." 

"With animals?" I asked, showning no note of surprise at all in my voice. 
"What kind of animals?" 

"Dogs and cats. Dogs mostly. It was my boyfriend Bart who got me into it, 
but now that he has, I have to admit that it's something that I can't 
possibly imagine giving up." 

"Well," I said, "you certainly aren't the first young woman I've ever met 
who enjoyed sex with animals, and I doubt very much that you'll be the last 
one, either. But maybe you'd like to tell me some more about all of this. 
You say your boyfriend approves of all this?" "Yes." 

"Does he like to watch?" "Yes." 

"But you don't like the setup so much any more?" 

"like I said, Doctor, I've started to feel really sort of creepy about 
myself, if you know what I mean. Really sort of guilty and unclean. I didn't 
feel that way at first, but it's something that's really been gaining on me 
recently." 

"And you'd like me to see if I could do something to make you want less to 
have sex with animals?" 

"That's about it." 

"Well," I said, "in my experience, bestiality is often more a symptom of 
underlying emotional pressures than a primary ailment. When the underlying 
psychological tension in resolved-as it often can be-then the desire for 
animal sex usually diminishes or even vanishes completely." 

"She gave another sigh of relief. 

"So," I said, "knowing that, maybe you're a little bit more willing to fill 
me in on what's been going on in your life." 

"I guess so," she said, and then she began her story.... 

I've known Bart for about a year now. The reason I'm starting with him is 
because without him, I'd have never gotten involved with animals. I'm not 
saying that so as to put most of the blame on him, or anything like that. 
It's just that that's the way things are. 

I'm in the tenth grade, and Bart's a senior. That means that when we first 
met, I was a ninth grader and Bart was a junior. 

Wow, you'd better believe that when an eleventh-grade boy shows some 
interest to her, a girl who's a freshman really stands up and pays 
attention. Her clit really stands up and pays attention too. I guess that 
boys mature more slowly than girls do, or something like that, because let 
me tell you, the average ninth-grade girl regards boys in her age group as 
real babies. I mean, that's the way they are. They're still just interested 
in sports and things like that, and the only things they do to girls is ride 
by them on bicycles and whistle at them or do dumb stuff like that so as to 
show what super grown-up studs they are. It's a real drag. As for 
girls-well, I think I was a bit interested in males even before I got my 
period, and after that, wow! But like I said, all the males I got a chance 
to hang around with were really infantile. 

Then, Bart started paying attention to me, and the difference between him 
and the guys in my class was pretty much the same as the difference between 
night and day. He was suave, relaxed, and he knew what he wanted. 

What he wanted was my pussy, and there was just no two ways about it. 

It was of sort of two minds about that. On one hand, I really felt pretty 
horny much of the time, and just the thought of having some hard prick up my 
hole made it drool and dribble all over my panties. But I guess I found the 
idea of sex sort of frightening, too. 

Bart was enough in tune with these feelings of mine to be able to compensate 
for them, and so all along he knew just how to calm me down and get me in 
the mood to go along with him. 

The first time we fucked, he had taken me to the movies. His parents were 
out of town, and he suggested that I come over to his place for a drink of 
his father's liquor. I had a pretty good idea of what Bart had in mind, but 
I didn't want to think of myself as the kind of girl who just chickened out 
when the going got half-way serious. 

So, I went over to his place, and though it's true that he went through the 
motions of offering me a drink, the truth of the matter was that there 
wasn't much drinking and was plenty of fondling. We were sitting on the 
sofa, and I'd hardly had a chance to sip my bourbon when I felt his hand on 
my right tit. 

"Mmmmmm, nice," I whispered. I wasn't exactly sure if that was what I should 
be whispering, but at least I was telling the truth. It felt nice to have 
his hand on my tit like that. 

"If you like it that way, maybe you'll think this is even better," he said 
with a smile as he slipped his hand under my sweater to cup my breast with. 
That meant that all there was between his hand and my titflesh was my rather 
thin bra, and the knowledge of that, as well as the pressure he was exerting 
with those masterful fingers of his, was enough to cause my nipples to swell 
out like crazy. 

"Getting turned on, aren't you, kid," he said. It was pretty obvious that he 
could feel the swelling of my nipples through the bra-fabric. 

"You'd better believe that I'm getting turned on," I said. 

Saying that was pretty much like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Bart 
reached his other hand under my skirt and sort of cupped my crotch with it, 
pressing his fingers hard against my panties. The panties were already 
pretty wet, but they were getting wetter all the time as I felt the pressure 
of Bart's fingers. 

He wasn't contented with feeling me up through my underclothes, though,' and 
he pulled my panties away from my soggy crotch. The cool air that caressed 
them was really pretty nice, but it didn't make me less excited. 

With my panties out of the way, he was able to really get his fingers on my 
cunt, and he took every opportunity possible. He pressed them against my 
clit (that nearly made me come right then and there) my cuntlips, and my 
maidenhead. 

"Still intact aren't you?" he said. "What do you mean?" 

He explained by giving me a quick poke on the hymen. Not enough to break 
it-that was an honor that he was saving for his prick, I guess-but enough to 
make me very conscious of the membrane that he was referring to. 

"Don't worry, kid," he said, "with me doing it, you won't feel a thing. Not 
for long, anyway." 

He seemed to really take it for granted that we were going to fuck, and 
seeing as I had allowed him to pull my panties down and place his fingers on 
my cunt, I guess that that wasn't really such an unreasonable thing to 
think. On one hand, I sort of resented his taking my consent for granted 
like that, but on the other hand, that was just the kind of aggressive, 
"take-charge" attitude that I found so lacking in boys of my own age. 

He pressed me back against the couch, then opened his fly and let his cock 
press out against the white fabric of his underpants. I really drooled at 
the sight of the thing making such a hard bulge. 

"Wait until you see it," he said, noticing the look on my face. Then he 
pulled the underpants down, and the cock was able to flop out into freedom, 
expanding quickly to its full length. 

Except for a really dumb sex education movie that they showed at school, I'd 
never seen a prick before, but one thing I knew right away on getting my 
first glance in at Bart's: being fucked was something that I was going to 
really enjoy. My cunt gave a little spasmodic contraction. It sensed that 
that hard thing was just exactly what it wanted and needed. 

Bart had already gotten my sweater and bra off, and he was now working away 
like crazy on my tits, kneading and molding them, pulling on the nipples, 
and doing all those other things that a girl does to herself when she 
doesn't have a guy around. 

What he was really interested in was that cunt of mine, though. He got on 
top of me, and positioned himself so that the tip of his prick was resting 
inside my hole. I gave a little shudder of anticipation, a shudder which, I 
guess, was composed of pretty much, equal parts of desire and fear. 

He pressed the cock against my maidenhead, and I felt even more nervous. 
What if it really hurt? I mean, the thing felt sort of solid as he poked his 
prick-tip against it. 

He didn't give me too much time to worry about the fact, though. I guess 
that Bart belongs to the category of people who rip bandages off fast, or 
just leap into cold swimming pools so as to get the initial shock over with. 
One moment, I felt his cock pressing against my hymen, and the next moment, 
he was IN! 

Slam! He just ripped on into me, piercing me, impaling me, making me bleed, 
and his cock glided on in over the fast-flowing pussy juices and the blood, 
until he had me totally filled with the miracle of his rampant hardness. 

He rested for just a second, so as to give my poor suffering cunt at least a 
bit of time to get adjusted. Then, he pulled back and started to pump. 

At first, my cunt felt so incredibly tender and sensitive that I couldn't 
notice anything much else besides the pain. But as he worked his tool back 
and forth inside me, the pain began to be replaced by a really wonderful 
feeling of excitement, until I had forgotten all discomfort, and the only 
thing that I could think of was how wonderful it felt to have that hard rod 
slipping back and forth inside my cunt. 

"like it, baby?" he asked, as he worked me with his rod. 

"Mmmmmm," I said. 

In ... out ... in ... out.... 

Nice-and-easy ... nice-and-easy ... nice-and-easy.... 

I was getting more and more turned on by this wonderful new sensation. It 
was all so amazing, having a man's hard tool in me like that, that I really 
hardly knew what to think. Of course, I didn't have to think, really, just 
feel. His prick did all the talking for him. 

All the while, his hands were really giving my tits quite a work-out, 
squeezing, kneading and caressing them, while his prick continued to drive 
me straight up the wall with come-need. 

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" I grunted in excitement as I felt the muscles in my back and 
thighs tense. I was getting ready to come, I knew that from the many times 
that I'd beaten off, but this time was going to be different. I was going to 
come with a guy coming inside me! 

"A woman! I'm going to be a woman! He's making me a woman!" I kept repeating 
to myself as I felt the tension in my cunt increase with every thrust of 
that prick of his. 

Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck! 

I'd beaten off plenty of times before, but man, oh man, masturbation sure 
was never anything like this. 

"So fine! So fucking find" I gasped. 

"Don't worry, baby," he said, "I'll have you off in a minute. Just one 
little minute." 

He was true to his word, too. It was hardly more than a minute before I felt 
him give the last few strokes that I knew would build me up to my come. Only 
four or five would be necessary, I knew that from the way my cunt felt. 

One! Almost.... 

Two! 

Three! "Just can't stand it Just can't!" Four! "Please...." 

Five! And that was it! I felt my whole body sort of shudder off into my 
orgasm, till every nerve I had, every muscle, was working overtime to 
express the frantic female come-joy that was sweeping through me. 

"AHHHHHHHH!" I sighed as I felt my cunt unwind itself in slam after slam. 
And as it clutched at his rod, the latter unloaded into me with gush after 
gush after gush.... 

Then, we were done, and lying there panting and gasping together. 

"Well, baby," he asked me, "did fucking live up to your expectations?" 

"Mmmmmm, what do you think?" 

"I think you had a pretty good come." 

"You'd better believe it." 

There was a moment's silence, and then I said, "hell, Bart. I bet you're one 
of the best fuckers around." 

"I do my best," he said, "the thing is that I like to liven things up a bit 
sometimes with stuff that's somewhat unusual. Stuff that not everyone goes 
for." 

"Meaning?" I asked, my curiosity genuinely aroused. 

"I'll tell you about it later, after we've gotten to know each other 
better." 

"You don't want to tell me now?" 

"I don't think you'd understand now," he said. "But I promise I'll tell you 
later." 

Talk about a teasing remark. I mean, in the weeks that followed, I couldn't 
get myself to stop wondering what it was that Bart was talking about. And 
every time I asked him, he'd always say that it wasn't time yet for me to 
know. That he had to get to know me better. 

As the weeks went by, with my fucking Bart regularly, I got to be more and 
more fond of him. Finally, after we had finished fucking, and were just 
lying on the sofa together, I asked him what his big secret was. 

"After all," I said, "I think that there's enough feeling between us for you 
to feel that your secret was safe with me." And it was true that the reason 
I kept prying it out of him was not just curiosity, but the fact that I felt 
that if he really loved me, he should be willing to tell me whatever it was. 

"Okay," he said, "I guess that you're right. I tell you what. Instead of 
telling you what it is, I'll show you. Get down on all fours. 

I did what he told me, feeling all the more curious. After all, he'd fucked 
me that way several times before in the past, so that couldn't be his big, 
dark secret. 

Then, I heard footsteps as if he were leaving the room. That made it all the 
odder, but I didn't turn my head to try and see what he was doing. If he was 
going to all this trouble to surprise me, I wasn't going to spoil things. 

I heard his footsteps return, and then I felt something very cold and wet 
against my cunt. For a moment, I couldn't imagine what it could possibly be. 
Then a sniffing sound told me. 

I glanced around and saw a great big boxer standing behind me, with a sleek 
brown coat and pointy ears. 

"Suzie, meet K.O., " I heard Bart say with a touch of nervousness in his 
voice. 

Before I had much of a chance to react, though, the big dog had already 
started licking my cunt, and that really changed the picture. Otherwise, I 
might have felt outraged (or pretended to myself that that was what I felt) 
at what my boyfriend had done. But the feeling of that soft, wet tongue on 
my cunt took care of my objections pretty fast. 

Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! The tongue was sliding into just about every little 
female nook and cranny that I had, and you'd better believe that I was 
really grooving on it. Every time that tongue slid across my tingling labia 
or my pebble-hard little clit, I thought that I was going to be coming right 
then and there. 

"How do you like it, baby?" I heard Bart ask. 

I was too hot to even be able to speak any more. All I could do was give a 
long drawn-out sigh of approval which indicated about as clearly as anything 
else could just how turned on I was by the weird experience of having a big 
dog lick my twat. 

I could feel K.O.'s breath on my cunt, of course, since his muzzle was right 
up close to me. But I could also feel Bart's breath on my left buttock. It 
was obvious that he had his face right up there next to the dog's so that he 
could witness every detail. He was able to see just how the slender, 
flexible tongue was sliding a back and forth over my labia and clit, how i 
even curled up into my hole on occasion, and how the big dog kept slurping 
and slurping am slurping as he sought to lick up every drop o; pussy fluid 
that he could possibly get. 

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" I grunted. That dog was driving me straight out of my mind. I 
wanted to come, needed to come, just fucking well hod to come, but still the 
animal kept me there right on the edge of the orgasm that I needed so badly. 
Not that dogs understand technique in that sense, but that's just the way 
that things worked out. 

Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! 

I could hear the dog panting away in excitement, but on top of that I could 
hear some other heavy breathing and panting. I could guess that Bart was 
just fantastically turned on by the little spectacle that he had arranged, 
and that he was probably beating himself off. 

I pressed my tits up against my chest with my right hand, while using my 
left hand to support my trembling body. I felt like a violin string that's 
being drawn too tight I had to snap some time, and I could hardly wait! 

That, a final long slurp over my clit was enough to set me off. I hung fire 
for just a second longer, and then a whole tidal wave a female come-frenzy 
roared through me. 

"Coming! Coming! I'm coming!" I gasped as I felt my pelvis buck and heave 
and shudder to the force of my wild fuck-spasms! 

And still the dog licked and slurped, pulling his tongue back and forth, 
back and forth across my aching clit and my stinging labia! 

"Whewwwwwww!" with a long sigh, I felt the final surges of my orgasm drain 
out of me, and I was surprised to find that I was still alive, though a bit 
dazed. It had been quite a ride. 

I staggered to my feet and looked at Bart. He was standing there with his 
prick gradually going soft, and long strands of spunk trailing from the tip 
of it. He had obviously beaten himself off while watching me get tongued by 
the dog, and the smile on his face indicated just how much he had enjoyed 
it, too. 

"So that's my secret," he said. "It really turns me on to see a chick make 
it with a dog." 

"Well, don't think I'm not glad you decided to let me in on it finally," I 
said. I could hardly remember when my cunt had gotten such a first-class 
bang. 

Bart drove me home, and I went up to my room to think about the weird 
experience that I had just been through. 

When I had told Bart that I was glad that he had decided to share his secret 
with me by having his dog tongue me off, that was true in a way. But even as 
I said it, I began to feel a bit uneasy about what it was that I had just 
done. Once I was no longer at the peak of my passion, I was able to get a 
bit more perspective, and there was no way to get around the fact that 
having sex with a dog really seemed kind of sick. 

On the other hand, I knew that Bart really dug it, and it seemed that if I 
was going to consider myself a good girlfriend, I should be willing to humor 
him in some of his quirks. After all, it isn't every tenth grader (I was in 
the tenth grade by now) who has a senior for a boyfriend. When other girls 
saw me out walking with Bart, they looked pretty envious. 

I suspected that if I told Bart that I didn't want to have anything more to 
do with his dog, he would probably dump me in favor of some other chick. And 
that would leave me high and dry, with no prick to take care of my cunt, and 
no one to walk me home from school or take me out for pizza. 

So, I decided to stick it out, and hope that maybe Bart would get to be so 
fond of me that he no longer found it necessary to get turned on by the 
sight of a dog pistoning my cunt. 

The next date I had, we wound up at his place as usual. For some reason or 
the other, his parents are often not home, and that means that he has a 
chance to do anything he wants. I guess his parents figure that since he's a 
senior, they can trust him. 

We started out with a couple of drinks (insofar as Bart's dad's liquor is 
concerned, they can't trust him, but they don't know that) and then Bart 
started to caress my tits and to feel up my cunt through my panties so as to 
get me all hot and bothered. 

"You want it, baby?" he asked with a tone of voice which indicated that he 
knew perfectly well that after a bit of preliminary action from him, any 
girl would have to be out of her mind to not want a fuck. 

"Uh huh," I said softly. 

"Shall I get K.O.? " 

I had forgotten all about the dog. 

"Can't we skip the dog for tonight?" 

"You don't want the dog?" 

"It's just that I'd rather do it with you." 

"You'll be getting plenty of action from me, don't worry about that," I 
heard him say. There was an edge of annoyance in his voice that indicated 
that he wasn't really all that prepared to accept this sort of 
uncooperativeness from me. 

Then, after a pause, he said, "okay, we'll skip the dog tonight as long as 
you'll promise to do something else that I like." 

"Okay," I said. I figured that he was talking about some unusual position 
that would involve the two of us. 

To my surprise, he got up and walked out of the room. It wasn't long before 
he returned, carrying a great big tomcat. 

"Suzie, I'd like you to meet Leo." 

The big cat just stared at me lazily. It was one of those cats that looks 
like it was born to do nothing else but sleep in front of a fireplace all 
day. 

"Bart...." I said reproachfully. It somehow didn't seem fair to me for him 
to promise not to insist on the dog, and then go and bring in a cat. 

"I thought you said that you wanted to share in my private interest," he 
said, and everything in his tone of voice indicated that if I wasn't willing 
to go along with him, things were going to be all washed up between him and 
me. 

"Okay, Bart, okay," I said. I'm really crazy about the guy, and I certainly 
didn't want to lose him. So I guess that I just didn't have any other choice 
but to play along with him. 

What I couldn't figure out was what a cat could do, exactly. I mean, it's so 
small that I wouldn't think that it's tongue would be able to provide very 
much stimulation. Well, I was sure wrong on that one! 

Bart asked me to lie on my back with my legs spread. He looked down at me 
with a smile of satisfaction on his face, and then got down on the floor 
next to me. He placed the cat between my legs, with its little triangular 
face right up next to my cunt. 

"Pussy, meet pussy," Bart said. 

Either cats are as turned on by a girl's smell as dogs are, or Leo had had a 
lot of experience and acquired a taste for cuntlapping, because he didn't 
hesitate for an instant. Instead, he moved his face up close and started 
lapping away like he was lapping up a bowl of cream. 

The very first lick of his tongue told me just how fantastically much I was 
going to enjoy this. It's true that his tongue was very small compared to a 
dog's or a guy's, but it had that raspy, sandpaper quality. So every time it 
moved across my labia, I got about three times the amount of stimulation 
that a normal smooth type of tongue could have given me. 

"See, baby," I heard Bart say, "if you'll just trust your Bart, all sorts of 
nice things are going to happen to you." 

He could tell from the look of excitement on my face just how turned on I 
was by the action of the cat's tongue. 

I expected he would beat off while watching the cat lick me, but I was 
wrong. This time, he put his hands on my tits and started to rub and caress 
them. He has a wonderful way with tits, and I could feel mine swell up with 
excitement, and feel the nipples turn from soft little things to hard nubs 
that just ached for more stimulation. 

From time to time, he would put his head near my cunt so that he could watch 
the cat lick me there, but that wasn't absolutely indispensable for his 
enjoyment. Just knowing that I was being tongued-off by the animal was 
enough to turn him on, so part of the time he would either kiss me (French 
style, of course!) or lick my tits. 

If his hands were great on my breasts, you'd better believe that his tongue 
was something else again! He left little trails of moisture all over the 
surface of them as he circled in closer and closer to the aching nipples. He 
would give these a quick little flick, and then move his tongue on out 
again. I was half nuts from frustration and desire, but somehow I was loving 
every minute of it. 

I don't think that I've ever felt so totally fucked. I mean, here I was 
being licked on the cunt, kissed, and getting my tits felt up; all at the 
same time! 

The best part had to be the licking though. The cat had a really wild sort 
of rhythm to his strokes as he licked. 

Flick! Flick! Flick! His tongue danced back and forth across my labia, 
making my hips tremble and shudder with excitement. 

Then, all of a sudden, I was coming. It was like a cloudburst. No real 
warning. I was very excited, knew that my come couldn't be far off, but I 
hadn't received any warning in the form of a final tensing of my muscles or 
final jangling of my nerves. One minute, I was writhing around in pre-come 
excitement and tension, and the next, everything was cutting loose all at 
once in a series of really powerful spasms that really ripped through me. 

Wham! Wham! Wham! My hips bucked and heaved against the cat's face, but I 
could feel him keep his nose pressed hard against my tender woman skin. He 
was sort of riding with the punch, so to speak, and clearly was really 
enjoying the sensations caused by my cunt flesh shuddering against him. 

Bart was still fondling my tits and kissing me, and as he felt me go off, he 
gave my tits and specially loving squeeze. 

Man oh man, was I ever blasting! 

Coming, coming, coming! One frantic cunt, blasting, heaving, shuddering, 
going irikl! One final heave, and I was done. Bart took his mouth from mine 
and smiled down at me. 

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he said. 

It was just like the time before. I was still kind of on a plateau from the 
excitement of the fuck, but I could feel the tension ebbing out of me, and I 
knew that as it did, I would start to feel guilty. 

"It was great, Bart," I said. I knew that was the answer that I was expected 
to give, and from the point of view of pure physical stimulation, there 
could be no doubt at all about the fact that it had been great. 

Bart didn't give me very much time to think, though. His cock looked like a 
broom handle, and I imagine that it must have been almost aching with the 
tension that it was under. He had gotten fantastically turned on watching me 
get my cunt licked by the cat, and now he just had to get his rocks off. 

Without even asking me if I wanted to fuck, he got on top of me and shoved 
his rod in. 

I felt so exhausted from the come that I had just had that I would have 
really preferred to wait before going on to the next round, but one of the 
things that I do sort of like about Bart is the way that he's a really 
manly, take-charge kind of guy. If he wants something, he just takes it. 
That can be pretty irritating, of course, but at the same time, what girl 
would like a panty-waist for a boyfriend? 

Besides, after the cuntlapping, my appetite was really whetted for some good 
hard prick. Tongue jobs are really nice, and I really enjoy them. But 
there's nothing for a woman that can match the feeling of having good hard 
prick-meat up her cunt. 

And man, that's what I got! He was about as hard as any male could possibly 
get. His cock was almost painfully rigid and unyielding, but that made it 
all the more exciting. After all, men are supposed to be hard, just like 
women are supposed to be soft. 

In! Out! In! Out! He started off pretty fast, too. I guess that he felt way 
too charged up to want to build up from a slow start. I didn't mind, though. 
Every one of those fast, hard strokes pulled my labia across my clit in the 
most delightful way, and it wasn't long before the two of us were equally 
charged up, equally in need of a come. 

Buck! Buck! Buck! 

I felt my hips give little counterthrusts, so as to increase the stimulation 
for both of us. I just couldn't believe how totally filled up and female I 
felt as he possessed and owned me with that mighty tool of his. 

He was working away like crazy now, really slamming his rod into me, really 
giving me the old piston action, and I found my breath coming in frantic 
little gasps as I got closer and closer to my come. 

Then, one final vigorous thrust, and I felt my pussy dissolve in a series of 
shuddering come-spasms, while his over-wound prick let its tension go in 
gush after gush after gush of boy-cream! 

My parents are kind of strict about what time I'm supposed to be back from 
dates, so we didn't have time for anything else after that, but I felt so 
totally satisfied that that was fine by me. 

Once again, though, as the actual physical excitement receded, all sorts of 
uncomfortable feelings started to come more and more to the fore. On the car 
ride home, I really had to force myself to chat with Bart. My natural 
inclination would have been to just sit morosely in the car. I didn't want 
to do that, because then he would have figured that I was dissatisfied with 
him. I don't think Bart is the kind of guy to take easily to that sort of 
silent criticism. 

When I got in, I found my father in the living room. He's a nice guy, and 
the two of us have always gotten along well. He asked me how my date was, 
and when I told him that it had been fine, he said he was glad. That really 
made me feel pretty low, too. I mean here I have this kind, generous father, 
and what do I do? I go out and have sex with animals. 

I went up to my room and cried for a while. I felt really down. I even 
decided that if necessary I was going to break up with Bart rather than keep 
on with this business with the animals. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy having 
my cunt lapped by a dog or a cat while it was actually going on. In fact, 
that was a really neat experience physically. But I just couldn't handle the 
emotions that went along with it, particularly the ones that hit me after 
each session. 

The next day, though, when I saw Bart in school, I knew that I could never 
leave him. Something about him looked so masculine and self-assured. And 
when I had spent about a half hour in my first class, seeing what juvenile 
little monkeys the boys my own age were, I thought that I must have been 
crazy to have even contemplated giving Bart up. So he had this thing about 
wanting me to have sex with his pets. That was sort of offbeat, it was true, 
but at least all it had ever involved was a bit of cunt-lapping. He had 
never asked me to actually fuck with his dog, for instance. 

Though I didn't know it, that was just over the horizon. That very weekend, 
when he and I had gone to a movie and then over to his house, he whistled 
and K.O., the big boxer, came bounding into the room. 

To say that my feelings were ones of resignation wouldn't be entirely 
accurate. The thing is that although after each sex session with the animals 
I usually felt pretty depressed, before each one I usually felt so excited 
from the mere fact of being with Bart and knowing that I would be having sex 
with him soon that I almost looked forward to the animal tongue-action. 

Except that this time tongue-action wasn't what Bart had in mind. 

"Honey," he said, "I think that it's time to move on to phase two." 

"Meaning?" I asked. I gave a little nervous shudder, though, since I had a 
pretty good idea of what phase two would involve. 

"His prick," Bart said in a tone that sounded so final and determined that I 
knew there was no way I could talk him out of what he had in mind. And like 
I said, at that point I'm not so sure that I would have wanted to talk him 
out of it. 

"How do you want me to do this?" I asked. "Get on your hands and knees, and 
he'll take care of the rest," Bart said. 

I did as I was told, and it was only a second or two before I felt the soft 
paws of the dog resting on my ass. Then the paws moved up to my 
shoulder-blades as K.O. got in closer so that he could ram his dog-prick 
into my cunt. 

The idea of having a dog's penis inside me sort of disgusted me, but at the 
same time, it really kind of turned me on, too. 

I didn't have long to wait to find out whether I'd actually enjoy fucking 
with the dog, though, because K.O. wasted no time in slipping his cock on 
into me. 

He did it very expertly, and the ease with which he found my hole made me 
suspect that I was far from the first girl that K.O. had ever done this 
with. That wasn't too surprising, though. If having a chance to watch a girl 
have sex with a dog was as important to Bart as he indicated, there was 
every reason to suppose that just about every girlfriend that he .had ever 
had had gone through this too. 

In the prick went, and then out again. In-and-out. In-and-out. 

I had to admit that the long, thin rod really did feel pretty nice inside 
me. My cunt was contracting spasmodically around it as it slid back and 
forth on my fast flowing pussy-juices. I'm a pretty wet female anyway, and I 
was really lubricating up to beat the band this time. 

And just like the time before with the cat, Bart came around and started to 
fondle my tits. 

This time, though, they were hanging heavily from my body, and that gave him 
all sorts of other things that he could do with them. He pressed them up 
against my chest and let them drop, he made them swing from side to side, he 
tweaked and rubbed the nipples, and he did about a zillion other things, all 
of which really got my breasts charged up like crazy. The nubs were 
throbbing with excitement, and I felt just about as charged up above the 
waist as I did below. 

That's saying .quite a lot, too, because I was really going almost out of my 
mind with excitement at the sensations that the big dog was causing to my 
cunt. The rhythm that he had was totally different from Bart's, and though 
Bart is the only guy I've ever fucked with, I guessed that the way in which 
the dog fucked as probably totally different from the way in which any guy 
would fuck. There was something almost mechanical about it, about the 
evenness of it. I guess that the reason for that is that dogs just fuck on 
instinct, and all that instinct has to take care of is giving the rod enough 
stimulation for it to be willing to spew its load up into some bitch's cunt. 

That just made it sort of more exciting for me, though. Even though after 
one of these canine fucks I don't feel so good about it, during one, the 
idea that I'm letting a dog's prick in me to please my boyfriend really kind 
of turns me on for some reason. 

Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck! 

I felt my cunt get more and more frantic, felt my body wind tighter and 
tighter, get more and more excited.... 

"Come! Make me come! Make me come!" I gasped to the dog, as if he could 
understand me. 

He just kept pounding away inside me, but that was good enough. Just a few 
more strokes, and then all of a sudden, I felt his prick tremble inside of 
me, felt the jism spatter up into my most intimate feminine recesses. 

That was more than enough to get me off, and so my cunt started to really 
clutch at the animal's penis while my hips trembled and shuddered with the 
agonizing ecstasy of my orgasm! 

"OHHHHHH!" I sighed as I felt the spasms leave me. It had been a really 
first class fuck, and if I could go by previous experience, it was going to 
be followed by another one just as nice, this time from Bart! 

I had it right on the money there. The glitter in his eyes and the furious 
stiffness of his cock told me just what it was that he wanted. And I was 
more than happy to give it to him. 

One thing about Bart. His sexual tastes may be a bit offbeat, but there's 
nothing at all unimaginative about them. 

"This time, baby," he said, "let's try something different. Hold your knees 
together, and I'll give you a fuck like you've never had before." 

"You're going to fuck me while I've got my knees together?" I asked. "How?" 

"Just do like I say, and you'll find out, won't you." 

There was no arguing with that kind of logic. 

I lay on my back with my knees pressed tightly together, and Bart got on top 
of me like he was going to give me a regular fuck, but with his knees on the 
outside of mine. 

He had his cock in his hand, and he used the hand to guide his tool between 
my legs. Because the flesh of the thighs is very soft, Bart's cock had no 
difficulty at all in pushing it to one side. The entrance to the cunt was 
another matter, though. The labia were pressed tightly together there by the 
legs, and that meant that he really had to work his cock into me slowly. 
That turned me on like crazy, too, since my ultra-sensitive cuntlips were 
pressed between my thighs and his cock. 

As for my cunt itself, that didn't feel all that tight on his penis. I guess 
that because it's up inside the hips, it doesn't make much difference to it 
what kind of position the legs are in. 

Bart waited for a moment before doing anything, so I could savor the 
pressure on my labia. Then, he started to work his prick back and forth 
inside me. 

It was really interesting to compare the action I was getting from him with 
the action I had gotten from K.O. The dog, like I said, started off fast and 
kept up the same tempo in an almost mechanical sort of fashion. Bart began 
slowly, and then increased the speed bit by bit as he worked me up to my 
come. 

In ... out ... in ... out.... 

That feeling of prick sliding in and out inside me was just too much. I was 
making little purring noises now as I felt my clit get the maximom amount of 
stimulation imaginable. It was really confined down there with my labia and 
thighs, and it was loving every second of the fuck. 

In! Out! In! Out! The tempo was getting a lot faster now, and there was 
something more determined about the thrusts. There were little beads of 
sweat standing out on his forehead, and the look in his eyes told me just 
how furiously excited he was. 

Cock! Cunt! Cock! Cunt! 

Almost there ... almost ... almost.... 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 

Then ... I ... was ... coming! 

And he was coming too, shooting a stream of warm man cream up into me. 

Spurt! Spurt! Spurt! It was amazing how much of the stuff he had in his 
balls. 

A final little tremble, and the fuck was over, and the two of us were lying 
there gasping and panting for breath. 

Bart pulled out, and then gave a glance in the direction of K.O. He thought 
for a moment, and then said, "no I expect you'd enjoy it more some other 
time." 

"What?" 

"You'll find out." 

And so I did, the very next evening. What Bart had had in mind was for me to 
suck the dog's prick. The reason he had decided to wait on it was because he 
wanted to introduce me to the art of blowing dogs under the best possible 
circumstances. And he figured that since K.O. had already had one come, he 
wouldn't have enough spunk in his balls for the second shot for me to really 
appreciate just what a nice thing sucking dog-prick really is. 

That's what he told me, at any rate. But now the dog was fresh, and there 
wasn't a reason in the world that I shouldn't have a taste of it. 

My feelings about that were mixed, like they were about every other aspect 
of the animal sex which I had engaged in. But since Bart wanted me to suck 
K.O.'s prick, I was perfectly willing to go along with it. 

I knelt next to the dog, and Bart got down on the floor so that he could get 
a good view. The dog's tool was still inside its sheath, and the first order 
of business for me was to get it out. 

I took hold of the furry container had squeezed. K.O. clearly liked that, 
because I was rewarded with the sight of a little pink tip appearing at the 
end of the cock-sheath. That was his penis, starting to come out into the 
open. 

I gave the pink spot a little flick with my tongue, and more of the penis 
glided into view. That gave me more to work with, and a few more flicks of 
the tongue soon had it almost all the way out. 

Even though I had had all this sex with the big boxer, this was really about 
the first chance that I had ever had to get a really good look at his prick. 
I noticed how red it was, how long, how thin, and how enormously hard. 

I ran my tongue up and down the length of it, and I heard the dog's 
breathing get a bit heavier and more labored. Then, I gave a little series 
of kisses up and down the entire length of the shaft. 

A sharp bark indicated to me just how excited the dog was. He was standing 
very still, but I could see his leg-muscles tremble. 

I slipped my mouth over the penis and began to suck on it. I had to admit 
that the thing really did feel good there between my lips. I have a very 
sensitive mouth, and I suppose that that's one reason that I get such a 
charge out of kissing. 

I moved my lips up and down the length of the penis, and then all of a 
sudden, I felt the cock start to move. 

I guess because a dog's instincts are all about regular fucking, and don't 
include anything on oral sex, something in K.O. must have told him that 
since he felt a pressure on his rod, he should start moving it back and 
forth. And that's exactly what he was doing. Fucking my mouth. 

I had no objections, and decided to jus relax and let him do the work if 
that was what he really wanted. And to tell the truth, it was kind of an 
interesting new experience to be fucked in the mouth like that. 

Back and forth he went, while I caressed his balls with my hands. Without 
even thinking of it, I started to feel up my cunt, worming my fingers into 
my hole and pulling on my labia. I felt good below the waist, I felt good in 
the mouth ... I felt pretty good and excited everywhere. 

Suddenly, I felt the dog's cock give an extra little stiffening (despite the 
fact that it was already tremendously hard), and then it was firing its load 
into my mouth. 

I pressed my fingers against my clit as I felt the dog cream gush into my 
throat. And that was where a lot if it was going, too, it was shot out of 
the rod with such intensity. 

I kept right on sucking as I felt the penis quiver between my lips and as I 
felt my own cunt dissolve into a wild display of fuck fireworks. 

A glance in the direction of Bart told me that he was having just as much 
fun as everyone else. His cock was gripped firmly in his right hand, and was 
spewing a big load of sperm onto the floor. 

After the dog had finished squirting, I slipped my lips off of his rod. 
Then, I sloshed the sperm around in my mouth a bit. It was really sort of 
neat to have my mouth filled with the stuff like that, and I'm not 
exaggerating when I use a word like "filled". Then, I gulped it all down in 
one big swallow. That was nice too, but already, my excitement had ebbed 
away to the point that there was a slight feeling of disgust on my part, 
too. 

Anyway, doctor, that's how things have been going on up to now, and I really 
don't have any way of knowing what it is that I really want. I certainly 
don't want to lose Bart, but on the other hand, I sometimes really feel 
pretty awful about the fact that I have sex with animals. And one of the 
things that makes me feel particularly bad is the fact that while I'm having 
it, I actually enjoy it. 

Adolescence is a confusing and difficult time for human beings, and Suzanne 
T.'s case well illustrates some of the confusion and uncer-tanity that has 
to be resolved if the individual is to grow up into a mature, contented 
adult. 

Perhaps strongest of all the adolescent's desires (except perhaps for the 
newly awakened sexual ones) is the wish to be through with adolescence. "I'm 
a woman!" Suzanne T. said to herself during her first sexual experience, and 
perhaps the identical phrase is flashing through the minds of countless 
girls her age as the., reader peruses this phrase. Sex is, of course, the 
most potent symbol of adulthood that there is, and for this reason, is a 
source of the most intense concern and interest to the developing girl, or 
boy. Among mature adults, sex is a very satisfying extension of the 
emotions. For the adolescent, it is much more an end in itself. A badge of 
adulthood. 

Suzanne T. correctly remarked that girls mature faster than boys, and her 
impatience with males of her own age is something that we shall see in many 
of the cases that follow. It is natural enough for her to be attracted to an 
older male, but this attraction is not without danger. 

The danger in question has nothing to do with loss of virginity, or anything 
like that. It would be a very antiquated psychologist indeed who would 
condemn pre-marital sex partners. Rather, the threat lies elsewhere, in the 
fact that during adolescence, the ego is being molded into its final shape. 
The individual is insecure, and willing to follow the lead of another who 
seems more confident. The trouble is that if the other person makes 
unreasonable demands, and the adolescent acquiesces, he or she make come to 
take submission as a way of life, and have difficulty ever learning to stand 
up for him or herself. The ego is never able to reach its proper 
development. 

This is very clear in the case of Suzanne T. Bart is an insecure, neurotic 
person, whose very insecurity is betrayed by his need to compel young girls 
to engage in acts that they do not really like. A teenager like Suzanne 
lacked the confidence to be able to put him in proper perspective and see 
him for what he is, and instead accepted him as a balanced, masculine 
individual. She felt that her will was less important than his, and so she 
sublimated it to his. If he wanted her to have sex with dogs, she would have 
sex with dogs. Partly because she was afraid of losing him (losing the 
"adult" sexual relationship that marked her as grown up in her own eyes), 
partly because she really felt that by being older and more experienced, he 
must be right. Passivity is, of course, something that our culture tends to 
inculcate in females, and the wrong set of circumstances can lead to it 
becoming very marked. 

I had to be very careful about revealing this diagnosis to Suzanne, since 
the role that she had assumed would have almost automatically led her to a 
furious defense of Bart and a probable refusal to undergo the therapy that I 
felt was essential for her ultimate happiness. Bit by bit, though, I was 
able to get her to face up to the fact that there was something that she 
found fundamentally unpleasant about the idea of having sex with animals. 
There is nothing wrong with a girl engaging in bestial relations if they are 
something that she feels comfortable with, but it seemed obvious to me from 
Suzanne T.'s account that she was not comfortable with them. 

From there, in the sessions that followed, I was able to lead her to a 
gradual acceptance of the fact that she was an autonomous person whose 
desires ought to count for something. Why, I asked her in effect, engage in 
an activity which causes you a great deal of guilt? 

Her answer to this was, of course, that Bart wanted her to. This was the 
crux of the whole matter. Getting her to accept the fact that there was no 
reason that Bart's desires had to be given precedence over hers. Why 
shouldn't Bart worry about how she felt? 

She was very stubborn on this point, but the therapy was helped in part by 
the fickleness of youth. Young people fall in and out of love very quickly, 
and another senior in her school caught her eye. She remained loyal to Bart 
for quite a while, but her growing awareness that he was not, in fact, the 
only boy in the world, made it more easy to accept the idea that his word 
should not necessarily be law. 

The whole process was very long and difficult, but at the end of a year of 
therapy, her self-confidence had increased to the point that she was willing 
to tell Bart that she was only interested in maintaining the relationship if 
he stop insisting that she have sex with his pets. He refused, and she left 
him. It was not long before she took up with another boy (not the one who 
had first attracted her attention from Bart, by the way), and this boy 
turned out to be much more willing than Bart had been to respect her 
feelings and wishes. Therapy had achieved its goal, which had not been to 
stop the bestiality as such, but to bring her to a clearer understanding of 
her own importance as a person. 

CASE HISTORY THREE 

Julie V. was a very pretty fourteen-year-old with the most magnificent pair 
of deep brown eyes. There was something about those eyes, however, which 
indicated that she trusted absolutely no-one. 

She was brought in by her mother, a well-dressed, very aggressive woman in 
her early forties. 

"Doctor," the mother said, "it's just unspeakable what I've found Julie 
doing. She'll have to really be straightened out, and the sooner the 
better." 

"I'm not sure that I'm in the straightening-out business, Mrs. V., " I said. 

"You're a clinical psychologist, aren't you. Isn't that what you are 
supposed to do? Fix up people so that they won't go and do shameful things 
any more?" 

"I try and help people. Make them happier...." 

"And people who do shameful things aren't happy, right? And that means that 
you have to fix them up." 

Mrs. V. was one of those people who are so sealed off in their own little 
egotistical world that they make a decision as to what another person is 
going to be like, and then impose this impression on reality by carrying on 
both sides of the conversation, if necessary. Mrs. V. had decided that the 
doctor was going to fix her daughter up, and as far as she was concerned, 
that was all that there was to the matter. 

I could, of course, have deflated Mrs. V.'s aggressiveness if I had wanted 
to, but I did not for two reasons. In the first place, scoring points like 
that is rather childish, and secondly, I could well imagine that the 
daughter of such a woman might have some very substantial psychological 
problems. If I antagonized Mrs. V. needlessly, she might well leave and go 
in search of some psychologist or psychiatrist who would agree with her that 
the only real problem was that of getting her daughter to follow accepted 
norms of behavior. If you shop around long enough, you can find almost 
anything. It was my hope that I might actually be able to do the child some 
good if the mother was willing to entrust her to my attentions. 

"Well, Mrs. V., " I said, "I trust you understand that I can make no 
guarantees, and that the strictest confidentiality will have to be 
maintained." 

Many parents rather bridle at that, despite the fact that without the 
patient being assured of the most complete confidentiality, no progress at 
all is possible. But Mrs. V. did not blanch. I suspected that she felt that 
whenever she wanted to find out what I had learned, she could simply use her 
overbearing personality to get me to reveal it. That is not, of course, how 
things turned out. 

"Now, the reason I've brought her here is because of the perfectly filthy 
things that she does. Just the other day, I walked in on her, and she was 
... having sexual relations with her pet dog!" 

Mrs. V. stared at me with a look that suggested that she expected me to be 
every bit as overcome with disgust at the idea as she was. When my face 
showed no signs of shock or horror, I thought that I noticed a little 
flicker of satisfaction in the deep brown eyes of her daughter. 

"The thing is, Mrs. V., that I will have to learn all the details from your 
daughter herself. That is how this sort of thing works." 

"Oh, very well," Mrs. V. said petulantly. I explained to her that if she 
would go out for a walk or something, I could use the remainder of the hour 
to begin work with Julie. The mother's irritation at not being able to 
participate more was eased by the thought that the "fixing up" that she so 
urgently wanted for her daughter was going to begin right away. 

I did not, of course, have any intention of conducting the therapy along 
those lines which Mrs. V. chose to dictate. My only concern was the welfare 
of the patient. 

As soon as Mrs. V. left, her daughter looked at me with those big brown eyes 
and it look on her face could probably best be described as a malicious 
smile mixed with resignation and bitterness. 

"In case you're wondering, Doctor, she's always like that," Julie said. 

"And you don't approve?" "What do you think?" 

"I think that I'd like to hear your side of the story," I said. 

"Okay," Julie said, and began her account without the slightest trace of 
embarrassment. And always with that strange smile on her face.... 

I had a father once, of course, but he vanished about four years ago. 
According to mother's account, he was sort of a scoundrel and a no-account 
who married her for her money. I don't usually trust anything that she says, 
but in this particular case I'm rather inclined to take her word for it. Why 
else would anyone marry a woman like that if it wasn't for her money? 

And there's quite a lot of money, too. That's good from mother's point of 
view, since it enables her to show off all the time. She tries to impress 
the people she can't bully. She's totally unable to impress me, and the 
bullying doesn't quite work. Almost, but not quite. That's why she dragged 
me in here. To have me remade more to her specifications. Somehow, I don't 
think you're going to play her game, though, which is why I'm willing to 
talk to you. 

Anyway, she's always loved ordering me about and telling me what to do, and 
above all making sure that I keep up what she calls the "standards". Keeping 
up the standards means being a snob, as far as I can tell. 

The business with the dogs started three months ago. I go to a private day 
school, as you can imagine, and the institution is still unisex, if you can 
believe it. All girls. And that just about drove me up the wall for a start, 
since for about the last two years, I've found myself getting more and more 
interested in boys. If I end up not having a good, normal sexual appetite, 
it'll be all the fault of you-know-who. 

Well, in the park one day, I met this really cool boy. He's not a hippy or 
anything, just a high schooler who's really neat. I bet most mothers would 
be glad that their daughter was interested in someone like that, since he's 
basically pretty straight. 

We fell into conversation about one thing and another, and he asked me if he 
could take me out some time. 

I asked mother, since she watches me like a hawk, and I wouldn't be able to 
get away without her knowing it. When I did, she pretty much hit the 
ceiling. 

"You allowed yourself to be picked up in the park like some common little 
tramp or high-school girl?" she said. It was interesting to see that as far 
as she was concerned, the two terms were pretty close to synonymous. Anyway, 
she told me in no uncertain terms that I couldn't go out with Frank, or see 
him again. 

Mother covered the living room in about two strides to get to the phone 
first when it rang. When Frank (that's who it must have been) asked if he 
could speak to me, she said, "are you the rude boy who tries to pick up 
girls in the park? Don't you ever dare call here again!" 

There went my blossoming sex life out the window. 

That evening, I was sulking in my bedroom thinking about how neat it would 
have been to be going out with Frank instead of being all cooped up in the 
house. Suddenly, I heard a scratching at the door. 

I knew who that was. It was Plantagenet, my big Irish setter. He and I are 
good friends, and I was glad to let him in. 

"Hullo, boy," I said, scratching the big dog behind the ears. "Are you sure 
you're fit to associate with me? You only have a pedigree a foot long. 
Mother certainly can't be too careful in protecting me from riffraff, can 
she?" 

He licked my hand, but then, to my surprise, he began to lick something 
else, namely my cunt! I was already in my nightie, and that meant that there 
weren't any panties or anything in the way of his tongue. You know how it is 
with dogs, doctor. How they're sometimes really pretty crazy about the smell 
of women's cunt. Plantagenet was like that, and for some reason he had just 
decided to slide his head under the nylon fabric of my nightie and get at my 
twat. 

"You're supposed to be guarding me, not raping me," I said with a laugh. But 
laugh or not, there was no denying just how delightful that tongue felt on 
my cunt. I've beaten off, of course, and in fact I beat off all the time. 
But somehow, doing something to yourself isn't the same as having it done by 
a partner, even if the partner in question is only a dog. 

Slosh! Slosh! Slosh! that tongue was really sliding everywhere, over my 
hips, my clit, everything. And my highly sensitive cunt area was getting 
more and more excited by the attentions that it was being given. 

So I decided to just lie back and enjoy this little treat that I was 
getting. 

"Here mother was so afraid that I'd be sexually molested or something by 
someone whose name was not in the Social Register, and instead I'm getting 
my twat licked by a quadruped!" 

The thought of how I was defying mother was in some ways even more pleasant 
than the sensations that the tongue was causing on my cunt. Though these 
were certainly very nice. 

I figured that since everything felt so good there below my waist, I might 
as well do the same for myself up top. So I pulled the nightie all the way 
up under my chin, and then started in on my tits with my hands, feeling and 
caressing the soft globes, and pinching and teasing the nipples into a state 
of almost painful hardness. 

The dog's tongue was really going at it now, and I was wiggling my ass 
against the bed and I tried to keep myself from going crazy with the 
wonderful sex-sensations that were zinging up and down my spine. I had never 
guessed that anything could be this nice. 

"Lick me boy! Lick me! Lick twat!" I gasped to Plantagenet as he continued 
to do that, and very vigorously. 

My back was arching, my legs were quivering with the tension I was under, 
and still the dog continued to lick and lick and lick.... 

"Come! Make me come, boy! Gotta come!" 

Then, all of a sudden, the tongue just happened to give a particularly long 
lick to my clit. 

Zinggg! Zanggggg! it felt like lightening was hitting my fun-button. Then, 
all hell broke loose, as the whole pent-up force of my come burst loose in 
spasm after spasm of female frenzy. 

Coming! I'm coming! I'm coming! I gasped as my hips shuddered and writhed 
with the force of my come. 

Wham! Wham! Wham! 

Just blasting! Just blasting! 

It was so fucking, freaking fantastically fine! 

And finally, it was over.... 

"Man, that was really something," I half whispered to myself as I collected 
my thoughts. I had just had the best come ever, and although it's true the 
only ones that I had to compare it to were ones that I had given myself, I 
suspected that it would be hard to have a come that was really all that much 
better than that one. 

"You're a good boy, you know that?" I said to the dog as I patted him on the 
head. He was still licking at my tender cunt, and it took me an instant to 
realize why. 

"Of course! He hasn't had his come yet," I said to myself. All the while 
that he had been giving me such a fine blast-off, he had been getting 
himself all the more excited, but without having any means of getting 
himself off. Well, after having a nice go like the one he had just given me, 
I certainly wasn't going to be an ungrateful bitch and leave him in the 
lurch. 

I felt too fucked-out to want to take his cock inside me, and besides, even 
though on one hand the idea really kind of appealed to me, there was 
something about it that kind of put me off too. I mean, his prick, which was 
all out in the open, looked so strange. I hadn't ever seen a boy's prick, 
but I couldn't help hoping that it would be a bit more elegant than the tool 
that I saw there on the dog. Plantagenet's meat looked just like that, it 
was so red. 

At the same time, it was prick, and that meant that it did excite me. I 
reached out and touched it, and just feeling the already stiff rod give an 
extra stiffening between my fingers caused me to feel a little shiver of 
excitement go zinging up my spine. 

I decided that the best way to help him out of his current state of 
perfectly frantic horniness would be for me to feel him off. That didn't 
take long, either, he was so excited from having licked my twat. I pressed 
my fingers together and slid them the length of his cock. His tongue was 
hanging out, and he was panting heavily. I repeated the gesture, and then 
all of a sudden I felt the penis give a little quiver as it shuddered off 
into its come. 

Spurt! Spurt! Spurt! the gray sperm came shooting out in little gushes-not 
so little really-all over my hand and all over the bedspread. I looked at 
the sight with total fascination. At Miss Hutchinson's Academy, the 
concentration camp where I get what Mother regards as an education, there 
isn't much more than the barest nod to the idea of sex education. I'd 
managed to dope a good deal of info out of books in the public library, but 
actually seeing a prick in action was something else. 

In fact, it so turned me on that I really felt sorry that I had wasted the 
shot like that. I should have taken the prick in my mouth, or better yet, in 
my cunt. 

Well, there'd always be another time. As it was, things weren't a total 
waste, since I had plenty of the dog's sperm all over my hand. I lifted my 
hand up to my face and sniffed at it. Then, gingerly at first, I started to 
lick it off. 

The stuff was great! guess the taste itself was just sort of ordinary, a bit 
on the sally side, but the knowledge that it was sperm and that it had come 
from a dog really turned me on. And in addition to the sexual satisfaction 
was the knowledge that mother would go just about straight out of her mind 
if she knew that I had done something like this. For the first time that 
evening, I wasn't disappointed any more about the fact that I had not been 
allowed to go out with Frank. I had definitely found something a lot more 
accessible. Every time that mother decided to play the heavy-handed routine 
(which is about ninety per cent of the time) all I could have to do would be 
to go off into my room with my dog and get on my back. 

I would have really liked to have done some stuff with Plantagenet, but now 
that he had had his come, he didn't seem to be particularly interested. In 
fact, he had gotten down from the bed and was scratching at the door to 
indicate he wanted out. 

All the next day, as I sat through the tedium of classes, I thought about 
how much fun I would be having that evening with my dog. At Miss 
Hutchinson's a lot of emphasis is laid on deportment, and shit like that, 
and of course I found it perfectly exquisite to answer all questions with 
the nutty demure look that they encourage there while thinking all the while 
about how it wasn't all that long before I had a dog's hard dick up my cunt. 

That was what I was counting on too. I figured that there wasn't any point 
going in for half measures. Sex is about penises in vaginas, basically, and 
though all the other stuff can be pretty nice, cock-in-cunt is what it's 
really all about. At fourteen, it was high time that I got myself fucked, 
and that was something that I definitely planned on taking care of that 
evening. 

After dinner, with mother making various nasty remarks about some one else's 
daughter who had taken up "with the most inappropriate crowd" (all this by 
way of a parable, of course, since I had merely done exactly the same thing 
with Frank) I managed to excuse myself and go off to my room. 

There was always the possibility that mother might walk in on my little fun 
and games, but somehow that didn't bother me. I knew that she'd probably get 
really hysterical and all, but at the same time the idea of letting her know 
just how totally she had failed in her efforts to bring me up like a lady 
was very appealing. 

I had the dog with me, and I started out by undressing and then rolling 
around on the bed in foreplay. I reached down under his belly and took his 
prick-sheath in my hand. Needless to say, I only had to give it a very 
little bit of attention before it came sliding on out into the open, ready 
for action. 

I squeezed the cock between my fingers, and felt my clit stiffen with 
excitement at the realization of how hard and male the dog was. Well, this 
was it. It was time for me to fish or cut bait, so to speak. The dog was all 
aroused, and I was too. The only question was whether or not I really wanted 
him inside me. 

That wasn't all that easy for me to answer. The idea of the physical 
pleasure that I would doubtless receive from having his cock in my cunt was 
certainly very attractive, and the idea of getting back at mother this way 
was almost irresistible. The only trouble was that I wondered if I wasn't 
embarking on a road that I might later regret having taken. After all, what 
I'd originally wanted still seemed like the thing that I would like best: to 
have a nice boyfriend like Frank, someone whom I could really care for. 

"Well," I decided suddenly, "mom has sure fucked that up." And without more 
ado, I decided to screw with Plantagenet. 

I guess that I should have gotten on my hands and knees in the traditional 
dog position. That would have made it a bit easier for Planatagenet to 
understand what it was that I was interested in having him do. But I was so 
worked up and excited that I didn't think about that just then. I knew that 
people usually fucked with the woman lying flat on her back and the man on 
top, and I figured that that would be the best way for me and Planatagenet 
to try it. 

I lay back and spread my legs, with his cock just about where my cunt was. 

"G'wan, boy, fuck! Fuck!" I said to him, but he just bent his head down and 
started to lick at my cunt. 

That was all very nice, but it wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I touched 
his prick, tried to get him to insert it, but still had no luck. I guess 
that all the mental associations that he had with my hand on his prick had 
to do with him standing still and me beating him off. 

I felt so frustrated that I could have almost cried. But then, I figured out 
what it was that was wrong, namely the position. I had seen dogs fuck on the 
street once before, and it occurred to me what I should have known all 
along. That at least until he got more accustomed to the idea of fucking 
with a human, Plantagenet would have to have sex in something that was an 
approximation of the dog-style fuck. 

I got up on my hands and knees with his face near my cunt. I was really 
nervous, afraid that even this wouldn't work, and that I'd have to give up 
entirely on the idea of having that prick of his inside my cunt. But 
fortunately, once he saw my twat presented to him in that fashion, he got 
the idea right away. I felt him put his paws on my back and then he started 
to poke away at me with his prick. 

He was having a bit of difficulty finding the entrance to my twat, and that 
meant that I had to accept a number of rather uncomfortable jabs with his 
rod. Finally, I reached back and put my hand on his tool, and then guided 
the thing on into my pussy. 

From then on, he was able to take care of things himself. Women are pretty 
different from bitches, I guess, and judging from the difficulty which 
Plantagenet had, the vagina must be placed quite differently. But I guess 
the feeling of a warm, tight cunt pressing against a prick is the same no 
matter who, or what, the cunt in question belongs to. Once his rod was 
inside me, Plantagenet began bucking away to beat the band. 

At first, I was too fascinated by the sensation of having something inside 
me, moving back and forth, to even feel stimulated by it. But that phase 
didn't last long, and soon I noticed a very definite glow spreading up my 
spine from my cunt. 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I've always known that Plantagenet was a very energetic 
dog, but I'd never realized just how energetic. As it was, he was really 
going at me like a jackhammer, and I loved every second of it. The curiosity 
was already replaced by good, strong physical desire as I felt that cock of 
his wind me up tighter, and tighter, and tighter. 

"Give one for mother! Give one for mother!" I breathed in between strokes. 
But to tell the truth, the pure element of pleasure in. this fuck was so 
strong that I didn't even feel that distracted by my dislike of my mother. 
All I knew was that it was wonderful to be female, wonderful to have a hole 
in my body like this which a prick could ram up into! I wanted to come, but 
at the same time, I didn't want the fuck to ever stop. It was just too, too 
delightful. 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 

I was really getting close to my come ... really getting close.. '. . 

I pressed my right hand against my hanging tits and pinched at the 
nipples.... 

Almost there ... almost ... almost,. . . 

Then ... I ... was ... coming! 

The orgasm hit me suddenly, like a light being turned on. Then my pelvis 
rocked and heaved with the force of the orgasm that tore through me. 

Splat! Splat! Splat! The dog cream erupted up into my heaving insides as 
Plantagenet unloaded into me. 

"Ah! Ah! AHHHHHH!" I moaned as I felt my whole body light up like a 
Christmas tree with the come-energy that was racing through it. Man, oh man, 
oh man.... 

Of course, the big trouble with starting out with a fuck like that, instead 
of, say, having the dog lick my cunt to begin with, was that he was now all 
played out and not really very interested in sex any more. The exact 
opposite was true with me. Oh, I felt a bit tired from the wonderful come 
that I had had, but that didn't alter the fact that I could get cranked up 
again pretty fast. 

"It's a pity that males weren't designed with same sort of multi-orgasmic 
quality that we females have," I said to myself. Well, there were other 
occasions that I would have in which to enjoy the big setter's prick. 

I was really grooving on the idea of getting back at mom this way, but I 
felt that I wasn't really going far enough. It was true that I could just 
about imagine her hitting the ceiling if she knew what I was up to with my 
dog, but I wondered if bestiality really fell within the scope of her social 
pre-jucices. A dog isn't in the Social Register, obviously enough, but then 
he isn't even in the running. I would imagine that what so bothered mother 
about a guy like Frank was the fact that it was at least theoretically 
possible for me to get pregnant by him, or even run off and marry him. Not 
that I had much of a desire either to get pregnant or to get married, but I 
felt somehow that as far as paying mother back for being such a pain in the 
ass, I wasn't really doing it quite right. 

And of course, there was the simple fact that I was very curious to find out 
just what a boy's prick would be like. I imagined that there would be 
something of the same kind of in-and-out motions of the prick that I had 
gotten from Plantagenet, but there must be all sorts of other things about 
fucking with a guy that would be completely different. What would he do with 
my tits, for example? Well, there was only one way to find out, namely to 
let myself get picked up like "some cheap little tramp or high school girl" 
as my mother so delicately put it. 

After the business with Frank, she had forbidden me to go into the park 
anymore, but of course I didn't give a shit about that. If I wanted to go, I 
was going to go, and that was that. 

I guess it's one of the ironies of life or something, but the truth of the 
matter is that although guys are supposed to be playing the aggressive role 
in sex all of the time, and girls the passive role, guys are in some way 
every bit as timid as girls, or even more so. 

For three straight days, I spent my lunch hours strolling in the park, 
hoping that I would get a bit of attention from the boys there. But each 
time, nothing happened, and I had to head back to my afternoon classes at 
Miss Hutchinson's without having gotten a nibble, so to speak. 

Then, on the fourth day, I had some luck. 

"Hi there kid," I heard a voice say. I looked, and there was a guy of maybe 
seventeen or eighteen, wearing blue jeans and lounging up against a tree. 

"Hi." 

"Nice pair of legs you got there," he said, eyeing the silly white stockings 
that all the girls at Miss Hutchinson's had to wear. 

"You like?" 

"Yeah," he said. 

"Want to see some more?" 

I couldn't help smiling when I saw his mouth gape open. Boys all like to see 
themselves as such smooth operators, but when opportunity comes knocking, 
half of them at least are ready to turn tail and run. This guy, whose name 
was Jim, I later learned, had probably made that remark about my legs so 
that he could think of himself as a really hot-shit sort of guy. The last 
thing that he had been expecting was that I would somehow respond in kind. 

"Yeah, I'd like to see some more." He only said that after some hesitation, 
but one thing that was in his favor was that he was willing to rise to the 
situation once it had made itself clear. He had just wanted to engage in 
some playful chaff and banter, but if there was really some cunt in the 
offing, then he was more than willing to accept it. 

"The only trouble though," I said, "is that I have to be back in the 
concentration camp in forty minutes. You know any place nearby where we can 
get better acquainted?" 

In fact, I felt pretty nervous about all this, since this was certainly the 
first time that I had ever behaved like this. The business with Frank had 
been much more innocent and asexual. But now that I had made up my mind, I 
certainly wasn't going to back out now. 

"Yeah," he said, "my folks' place is right there off Dewey Street. It's 
about ten minutes walk from here. We can get there, get acquainted, and 
still get back in time for you to not be late for school." 

"Sounds fine." 

My heart was beating kind of rapidly as we walked up the staircase of the 
tenement where he lived. But part of that was excitement at the fact that I 
was finally going to be paying mother back in spades. 

Jim was no fool, and he knew just exactly what it was that I wanted. As soon 
as we got in (his parents weren't home, by the way), he started to unbutton 
my blouse. 

I reached down to his crotch and squeezed his cock between my fingers. 

"Pretty nice," he said. "I guess that you know something about how to handle 
a guy's prick." 

In fact, I was working on pure instinct, but it really pleased me to know 
that someone thought that I was experienced. 

He had my blouse off by now, and it wasn't long after that that my bra and 
dress followed. Then down came my panties, and I was standing there in front 
of him, completely naked. 

He pulled his clothes off without any kind of fuss or bother, and he had a 
really fine bod, too. 

His cock must have been a good seven inches, and it looked about as hard as 
a tire iron. He was ready and raring to go, and so was I. 

He pushed me down onto the sofa in the living room and got on top of me. I 
was so excited at the prospect of being about to be fucked that I could 
hardly breathe. But in with the excitement was another emotion, too. A bit 
of regret. 

After all, all that I'd ever wanted was just to have a normal sort of sex 
life like any other teenage girl. But my dumb bitch of a mother had had to 
intervene and really mess everything up. Maybe with Frank, who was a 
genuinely nice guy, I could have gotten a really neat kind of relationship 
going. As for Jim, he was okay, I guess, but I knew that there was nothing 
about his personality that attracted me. He was just an instrument that I 
was using so as to be able to get back at that stupid cunt of a mother of 
mine. 

Well, it was too late to turn back now, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to, 
anyway. He already had his rod pressing against the entrance to my cunt, and 
I had to admit that it felt mighty nice and hard. 

He gave a quick shove, and I felt his dork fill up my insides as it slid on 
into me on the thick film of pussy-fluid that I was so busy secreting. 

Then, he started to pump away. Nice, long, easy strokes. Plenty of pleasure 
for my clit and labia. Really nice. 

At first, though, being fucked by him was a little bit like being fucked by 
Plantagenet. That's to say that the mere idea that I was having sex at last 
was so overwhelming that I hardly had a chance to pay much attention to the 
actual details of how much pleasure he was causing me. 

But, as had been the case when I had let Plantagenet stick his rod inside 
me, it wasn't long before the pleasure of having that thing slipping back 
and forth inside me was enough to really make itself felt, so that I no 
longer lay there wondering at the fact that I was finally being fucked, but 
instead, reveled in the feeling of having some good hard dick inside me. 

Back ... forth ... back ... forth.... 

I was giving little counter-thrusts now, moving my hips in time to his long, 
easy motions. He had his hands all over my tits, too, rubbing and caressing 
them, driving them wild with excitement. 

"You like, baby?" he asked as he continued to work my twat with that rod of 
his. 

"You'd better believe it," I said. 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! He had the most amazing way of angling his thrusts 
so that the back of his prick actually rubbed against my clit. That, in 
conjunction with the feeling of my labia pulled repeatedly across the hard 
little button, was enough to really put my twat in seventh heaven. 

It had only been a minute or two since he had started, but he was doing such 
a magnificent job that I was already right on the brink of my come, and it 
was obvious to me that it would only take a thrust or two to get me 
blasting. 

He was taking his time, though, and I got the impression that he was 
intentionally keeping us both hanging fire so as to maximize the excitement 
that we felt. 

Whenever I found myself getting so hot that I was sure I was going to be 
coming, he would sort of ease up on my twat a bit, and change the angle of 
thrust so that I wasn't really getting the full effect against my clit. That 
would allow me to calm down a bit. Then, when he figured that I could take 
it, he would step the pace up to its old tempo again. 

"In! Out! In! Out! 

Almost there ... almost ... almost--- 

Suddenly, I was coming, and coming hard, with my whole pussy exploding in a 
wild firework display. I felt my insides churn and boil as. every nerve in 
my body seemed to let fly at once. And he was matching my come perfectly as 
he sent his load shooting on up into me in fine, hard gushes. 

He rested inside me for a moment before pulling out. Then, he said, looking 
at his watch, "I think it's time you were getting back to your school. 
Unless you feel like playing hooky." 

I was very tempted to say that I was indeed going to play hooky, and wanted 
to spend the whole afternoon with him. But I knew that that wouldn't really 
be too smart a thing to do. I'd be counted missing at Miss Hutchinson's, 
Mother would be alerted, and of course, when I got home there's be a massive 
hoo-hah. Not that I couldn't survive that. In fact, I'd survived plenty of 
them in my time. But I knew that mother is such a suspicious type that she'd 
really put the screws on a lot tighter. I'd be ordered to spend my lunch 
hour at school, and heaven only knows what else. No, as far as getting back 
at mom was concerned, I'd be doing far better by pretending to play along, 
and then secretly fuck with my dog and with Jim. That way, although mom 
wouldn't know about the way in which I was getting even with her, I'd know, 
and get a really strong sort of private satisfaction out of it. 

So, on went the prim little white knee-socks, and back I went to Miss 
Hutchinson's, where the afternoon classes were interrupted as they were 
every day by the ritual of tea-which was supposed to somehow transform us 
into cultivated ladies. 

Normally all the fakery of sitting there all prim and proper nibbling on 
little sandwiches and drinking tea really bugged me. But this time was 
different. As I sat there, I knew that there was still some sperm in my 
cunt, and I also knew that that Very evening, I would be having sex with my 
dog. 

"Did you have a nice time in school, Julie?" my mother asked me at the 
dinner table. 

"Of course," I said. "After all, it's in school that one learns to be a 
lady." 

At it's in walk-up flats during lunch hour that one learns to be a woman. 

I have to admit that although playing cat and mouse with my mother like that 
was sort of fun, dinner was sort of hard to get through, I was so impatient 
to have some fun with Plantagenet. He was standing there in the dining room 
looking at me, and I could tell that he was thinking exactly the same thing 
I was. It was sort of a little conspiracy of silence against mom, if you 
know what I mean. 

After I got to my room, I was in almost a panic to get my clothes off so 
that I could get down to business. I glanced at Plantagenet, and saw that 
his prick was already part way out of his sheath. He knew by now what it 
meant when I started to undress like that. 

I had had him lick my cunt, and I had fucked with him. But I hadn't sucked 
his prick yet. Well that was a gap in my education that I meant to fell as 
soon as possible. 

"Here, boy," I said to him as I knelt beside him. I sent my tongue darting 
against the taut pink skin of his prick. Of course, that made the thing get 
even harder. If ever a rod was ready for action, that one was. 

I slipped my mouth over the penis, and started to suck. It was sort of 
strange having something like that in my mouth, but it was also very nice. I 
slipped my lips along the thing as far as they would go so that I could get 
at his prickroot, and also so that I could feel his prick-tip press up hard 
against the back of my mouth, almost at the entrance to my throat. 

He gave a yelp, which may have been a yelp of pleasure, or maybe one of 
impatience. I couldn't be sure, but I figured that I had better get down to 
business, so I started sliding my mouth back and forth along the length of 
his hard shaft. 

Having that male thing inside me like that was such a turn-on that I found 
my cunt dripping wet in no time. I moved my hand down between my legs and 
started to feel myself up. The pressure of my fingers on my cunt was really 
nice, and because I've been masturbating for about two years I had a pretty 
good idea of the sort of things that my pussy really enjoyed. 

I worked my fingers into my cunt, and pressed them against the tender 
cunt-walls. Then I sort of flicked at my clit with my thumb, while my hip 
shuddered with pleasure. 

Suck! Suck! Suck! I was drawing away on that penis of Plantagenet's like 
someone drawing on a cigar that isn't going right. The big Irish setter was 
standing very still, but I could tell from the way he was breathing just how 
tremendously excited he was. 

Not that he was much more excited than I was. My cunt felt like it was going 
to catch fire if I gave it too much more attention. In fact, I figured that 
I had better ease up on my twat a little bit if I didn't want to find myself 
coming before the dog did. 

Suddenly, I felt his rod sort of quiver in my mouth, and I could perfectly 
well guess what that meant. I pressed my thumb hard against my clit just at 
the moment that the first gob of dog cream splattered against the back of my 
mouth. 

I felt my clit send a little bolt of electricity through my cunt, followed 
by another and another, as my cunt shuddered off into a wild come. I pressed 
my fingers against my female flesh as hard as I could while continuing to 
suck on the gushing dog-prick. 

It seemed to take forever for either of us to quiet down, but finally, about 
the same time that my pussy finally finished unwinding, his penis gave a 
last little dribble that marked the end of its action. And that had been 
quite some action, while it lasted. My mouth was really full of the gray 
dog-spunk. I sort of basted the Irish setter's prick with it, using my 
tongue to slosh the dog's own juices all over his cock. Then, I pulled my 
lips off of the thing and drank the stuff down. 

It might seem that I had really done just about everything to get back at 
dear old mother that I possibly could, but it happened that an opportunity 
was going to present itself for me to go one better on the things that I had 
already done. 

I was in Jim's apartment, which was where I spent most lunch hours now, and 
he was getting ready to fuck me when a dog suddenly walked into the room. By 
this time, when I saw a dog, the first thing I did was glance at the belly 
of the animal to see if there was a cock there. Sure enough, there was. The 
dog was a big, healthy mongrel with a friendly look on his face and a 
wagging tail. 

"That your dog?" I asked. 

"Uh huh. Sort of. I mean, when he feels like it, he's my dog. Sometimes, 
when he doesn't feel like it, he just wanders off for a week or two. I guess 
he-likes his freedom." 

It goes without saying that my heart went out to the creature at once. 

"Would you like me to do something nice for him?" I asked. 

"Sure. What do you have in mind?" 

I was already naked, and all I had to do for an answer was to get onto my 
hands and knees so that my cunt was facing the dog. 

I don't know whether the dog, whose name was Boomer, had ever licked twat 
before, but he sure didn't want to pass up this opportunity to do so. No 
sooner had I presented my cunt to him, than he moved his muzzle up to me and 
started to slurp away with his tongue. 

Jim gave me the impression of being the sort of guy who'd been around quite 
a bit, but that didn't prevent him from being sort of astonished by the 
sight in front of him. 

"Don't just stare," I said, "why don't you join in?" 

"Join in?" 

"Sure. Get on the floor near me, and I'll show you what I mean." As soon as 
Jim was there on the floor with me, of course, I took his prick in my mouth 
and started to suck on it. 

Jim's meat is always pretty hard, but this time it seemed particularly so, 
and I couldn't help suspecting that the reason for that was that he was 
really excited by the idea of being engaged in a threesome involving a dog. 

It was interesting to compare the feel of his prick in my mouth to that of 
Plantagenet. The dog's cock was so much thinner, and it had an almost 
triangular shape, too. But different though the two pricks were, they had 
something really in common too. They were very hard, very vibrant, very 
male. 

It didn't take much sucking before I got a mouthful of Jim's sperm, and the 
same observation that I made about the feel of the pricks applies. Dog come 
tastes definitely saltier, and it's got a thinner consistency, too. But 
there's no mistaking the fact that it and human spunk belong in the same 
class. 

The mongrel got my cunt off at just about the same time that I brought Jim 
to a come. It was interesting to notice that although all dogs presumably 
lap cunt on the basis of instinct more than anything else, there really is a 
certain individuality about the way in which each of them does it. 

I guess things could have gone on pretty much the same way for quite some 
time. I enjoyed sex with dogs, and I liked what I got from Jim, too. Jim 
wasn't a bad guy, and although there certainly wasn't any deep emotional 
attachment between us or anything, we got on well enough together. As for 
really getting involved emotionally with some boy, mother had made that just 
about impossible. The only guys she would have allowed me to go out with 
were snots like the ones from St. Fenwick's who came over to Miss 
Hutchinson's for tea dances. What a load of drips! I guess that maybe one or 
two of them might have been okay, but it so turned me off to think how 
mother would rejoice at the fact that I was finally showing an interest in 
hanging out with the "right sort of people" that I wouldn't give any of them 
the time of day. 

The trouble was that the more I fucked with 

Plantagenet, the more careless I got. So one fine day, while he had his rod 
rammed up inside me, who should walk into my bedroom but dear old mother. 

You can guess the scene. The near faint (doubtless for dramatic effect), the 
hysterical screams. All the effort to make me feel guilty, ("you know, 
Julie, I've spared no expense or effort to bring you up properly"). In short 
the whole bit. Mother has a friend, Mrs. P., who was a patient of yours 
once. The two of them are as thick as thieves, so it was to Mrs. P. that 
mother went for advice. That's where Mother got your name, and that's why I 
was dragged into this particular office. 

There can be no human activity in the world more difficult to do properly 
than to be a parent. The reason is that children are so susceptible, that 
the slightest mistake on the part of a mother or father can have very 
profound repercussions. And in cases such as that of Mrs. V., where what was 
not involved was not just one mistake, but her whole approach to 
child-rearing and indeed to life, the effect can be devastating. 

Julie V. said that originally her only desire was to have a nice 
relationship with some nice boy. And there is no doubt that she was telling 
the truth. The whole interview with me was marked by a tone of great 
sincerity. After having had to put up with her difficult mother over the 
years-a task of necessity involved all sorts of pretense and deceit-she was 
glad to at last have some one to whom she could talk honestly. All she asked 
for was to be judged on her merits. 

Unfortunately for Julie, her desire for a normal life ran smack against her 
mother's neurotic social prejudices. I say neurotic because in this day and 
age, the only mothers who are-likely to prohibit their daughters from having 
anything to do with nice, straightforward middle-class boys like Frank are 
ones like Mrs. V. who are so personally insecure that they see their social 
position as the only thing they have. 

Unreasonable behavior on the part of a parent often begets retaliation on 
the part of the child, and that was what had happened here. Sometimes the 
child prefers open rebellion, and does such things as steal cars and 
otherwise get in trouble with the police. Others, like Julie, prefer a more 
quiet, low-key revenge, but one which is just as full of personal 
satisfaction. When I first saw Julie, I noticed that enigmatic smile of 
hers. She was a very intelligent girl, and one given to fantasy. The smile 
symbolized her recognition of the fact that there are all sorts of different 
ways of getting back at some one, and that she was happy to have found just 
how many there were. Not that she was by nature a vicious girl, but her 
mother had driven her to distraction. 

Of course, the private, inner revenge and the more open kind are just 
extremes. All sorts of graduations exist between them. Subconsciously, Julie 
in some sense wanted to be discovered by her mother. She would never wait 
until the latter had gone to bed, I discovered in a later interview. 

What is interesting about Julie is the way in which she maintained such good 
contact with her basic feelings. When having sex with Jim, for instance, she 
thought about how she would have preferred a boy with whom she could have 
related more on an emotional level. And though her desire not to conform to 
her mothers wishes made her reject the boys at the tea dances, a certain 
sense of fairness compelled her to admit to me that not all of them were 
"drips." 

It should be obvious just how badly she was in need of therapy, for she had 
fallen into the most dangerous of all psycho-roles: hurting oneself so as to 
hurt another person. Although on one hand she appreciated the fact that 
there were various different ways for her to get back at her mother, in a 
sense these were all the same way. They all involved degrading herself so as 
to go against her mother's excessively exacting standards of behavior. 

For instance, there was nothing wrong per se in her getting involved with a 
boy like Jim. He seems to have a reasonable enough sort of fellow. But the 
way she picked him up, almost sollicking him like she was a streetwalker, 
indicates clearly how she wished to make herself as base as possible. (It 
should be pointed out that although Jim did make the first remark in the 
park, she herself correctly sized it up as having been made more for his own 
ego than for any other reason.) 

Obviously, much more was at stake here than her mother's refusal to allow 
her to see Frank. That was just the straw that broke the camel's back. After 
all, she had met Frank in her lunch hour in the park, and there was nothing 
to prevent her eventually meeting some other boy she liked there without 
having to play the role she did. If she could have a sexual relationship 
with Jim during lunch hours, she could have had a sexual and emotional one 
with him or someone else if she wanted without degrading herself. Clearly, 
her desire for revenge on her mother was one of long standing. 

The trouble with treating a child or adolescent is that they have little 
chance to get away from the home environment that caused the trouble in the 
first place. Still, it is sometimes possible to get a person in Julie's 
situation to adjust to it, and that is what I eventually succeeded in doing. 
I managed, over the course of about a year, to convince her that for her to 
hurt herself so as to get back at her mother wasn't really worth it. 
Instead, I managed to make her understand, she'd be much better off if she 
could bring herself to look on her mother as a tiresome aspect of her life 
that was best ignored. After all, she would have to be living with her for a 
few more years. 

At the same time, I told the mother that the bestiality that she was so 
worried about could only be contained if her daughter was permitted to 
socialize with boys of her own choosing. This was a bitter pill for Mrs. V. 
to swallow, but faced with a choice between allowing her daughter to have a 
middle-class boyfriend or living in fear that she might be off romping with 
a dog somewhere, Mrs. V. finally chose the former. 

Just having that much liberty gave Julie a chance to gain a certain 
emotional calm in regard to her mother. She eventually met a boy like Frank 
and had a teenage romance marked, for all the inevitable juvenile aspects, 
by genuine tenderness and affection on both sides. With this available, 
Julie found that she was no longer interested in having sex with dogs. 

CASE HISTORY FOUR 

Penny W. was a pretty fourteen year-old who came to see me at a time when I 
was working one night a week at a low-cost clinic. Her parents could 
certainly have afforded private therapy, but she was afraid to tell her 
parents what her problem was. Instead, she came to the clinic on her own, 
and paid the minimal charges with money that she made from baby-sitting. 

She fidgeted nervously in her chair, and it was obvious that she was torn 
between the desire to get some help for her problem, and the desire to leave 
at once before she had to tell anyone what it was that had been bothering 
her. 

"I don't know, Doctor," she said, eyeing the door she had just entered by. 
"I'm afraid that maybe I'm wasting your time. I mean, there are probably all 
sorts of people a lot worse off than I am who need your services...." 

"Well," I said, "there isn't any way that I can tell whether you need my 
services or not unless you fill me in on the details of what it is that's 
bothering you." 

"N-no, that's true. But I don't even know if I should be here. I mean this 
clinic is supposed to help poor people, isn't it, and my father actually 
makes plenty of money...." 

"But to get him to pay for psychiatric help for you, you'd have to tell him 
something about what your problem is, wouldn't you? And you couldn't bring 
yourself to do that in a million years, I bet." 

"No, I couldn't.. . , " Penny said, casting her eyes down. 

"Penny," I said, "why don't we stop playing this little game of 
cat-and-mouse, and instead have you tell me what it is that's causing you 
trouble. The purpose of this clinic, as you know, is to help people who 
can't get assistance in any other way. And I'm perfectly satisfied that that 
applies to you." 

"I suppose you're right...." 

"Look, you know as well as I do that this sudden attack of altruism on your 
part is linked with the fact that you're ashamed of something and you don't 
want to tell a third party what it is. But unless you can bring yourself to 
do just that, you're going to have to go on being ashamed of it for the rest 
of your life. Problems don't go away by themselves." 

She looked up at me with a sudden resolution in her eyes, and then she said, 
"all right, Doctor," and began her story--- 

I've always been really curious about what it would be like to have sex with 
a boy, but unfortunately, a lot of the boys in my age group are too timid to 
try anything. I suppose they like to talk a big game, but that's about the 
end of it. 

I have a really good friend Mary Jane. She and I have been as thick as 
thieves ever since we were really little, and ever since we got our periods 
we've talked all the time about what boys must be like. 

Our school has a sex education program, so we had a pretty good idea of the 
basics, but there's an awful lot of difference between seeing an animated 
film about fucking and getting a chance to actually do it. 

The business with the dogs started a couple of months ago, when Mary Jane 
was over at my place. My mom and dad were out for the evening, so Mary Jane 
and I were there alone except for the presence of Killer, my Doberman. The 
name Killer was given to him as a joke, by the way, since he's the sweetest, 
gentlest animal that you could ever hope to find. 

Mary Jane had brought over a book about sex that she had taken out of the 
library. It was pretty much the same sort of stuff that we got out of the 
sex education course at school, except for the fact that there was more 
discussion of different positions, and ways of increasing pleasure. 

We were reading the book pretty intently, with Killer snoozing on the floor 
next to us. 

"If only we had a chance to see a penis," Mary Jane said. "I mean, after 
reading about them, and hearing about them in school, all I can think of is 
how great it would be to actually get a chance to met one." 

"It would be pretty nice to have a chance to actually feel one, too," I 
said. 

"Sure, but I'd be at least partly satisfied with a chance to actually feast 
my eyes on one." 

"Did you notice that bulge in Steve K.'s pants?" 

"What, today? You'd better believe it," Mary Jane said. 

"You know, if you're so eager to get a look at some prick, you could always 
look at Killer's." 

"That's not such a bad idea," she said. The two of us went over to the 
sleeping dog, and I tickled him on the ears to make him roll over. 

In fact, I hadn't thought of checking out my dog's male equipment before. I 
guess I had just always taken for granted the fact that he was male. 

"It sure doesn't look much like the pricks in the sex books, does it?" Mary 
Jane said. 

"Well, it's still tucked up inside that furry sheath. I think that once we 
get it out of that, it'll look more like what we're interested in." 

I think I should point out, Doctor, that at this time, I'm sure that neither 
of us had the faintest idea of actually having sex with Killer. We just 
wanted to get a look at some prick in the flesh. 

"How do we get his cock out in the open?" Mary Jane asked. "Just touch it." 
"You think that'll do it?" "You can always try." 

What I think was involved here was that neither of us was quite sure that 
she really wanted to touch the dog's penis. Not because we were afraid of 
Killer-like I said, he's a real cream-puff-but because there was something 
so strange and foreign-seeming about the idea of a prick. It's something 
that no girl has anything even remotely resembling. Even the clit is awfully 
different. 

Finally, Mary Jane reached out and touched the thing, almost like someone 
touching a hot stove. 

The pink tip of the prick slid slightly out of the furry sheath. 

"See," I said, "that'll make it come out." 

We were both really fascinated by the sight of the thing sliding out into 
the open. 

I didn't want Mary Jane to think that I had less nerve than she did, so I 
reached out and quickly touched the cock. I actually touched the pink tip, 
and of course, that made the thing come sliding out of its sheath all the 
quicker. 

Killer, who was still pretty sleepy, clearly didn't mind any of this, In 
fact, I got the impression from the way in which he thumped his tail against 
the carpet that he was quite enjoying it. Well, little did he know it, but 
there was lots, lots more action to come. 

Mary Jane and I were both giggling uncontrollably as we took turns touching 
the penis. It was all the way out into the open now, and the sight of that 
hard male member had both of us very excited. I could feel the pussy juice 
drenching my panties and making them cling wetly to my tender girl-parts. 
And as for Mary Jane, the glitter in her eyes, and the way she was breathing 
heavily, told me pretty clearly that she wasn't exactly calm about all of 
this. 

We were even rubbing the cock now, in quick strokes, and Killer was getting 
more and more excited. He was still lying on his side, but he was kind of 
scooting his body around, and moving his paws back and forth. The thumping 
of the tail had become a regular drumbeat. 

All of a sudden, I felt the prick stiffen up a bit more between my fingers, 
and then start to shoot sperm out into the air. 

I thought for a moment I was going to come myself, I was so excited by the 
sight of that stuff gushing out of the thin red dick. A lot of it landed on 
my hand. 

Both Mary Jane and I were very silent. I think we were kind of awe-struck by 
the sight of an actual male orgasm. A dog's orgasm, but male nevertheless. 

"You know," Marry Jane said, "if that was a boy's spunk, I bet that you'd 
want to lick it off your hand." 

"How do you know that I don't?" 

"Why don't you then?" 

"Why don't you?" 

Again, I think that it was something that both of us wanted to do, but each 
was afraid of what the other one would think. 

"I'll do it if you do," Mary Jane said finally, and I nodded. I held my hand 
up to my mouth and licked at it. Then I held it out to Mary Jane, and she 
licked too. 

"Mmmmmm, not bad," she said. 

In fact, I was a bit disappointed in the taste as such, but the idea that I 
was licking sperm was enough to make my already pebble-hard little clit give 
a special tingle of excitement. 

In fact, I was really horny, and very much wanted Mary Jane to leave to that 
I could have a nice, quiet little beat-off while thinking about Killer's 
prick. 

I guess that she felt the same way, because after a few more minutes of 
inconsequential conversation, she said that she had to get back to her place 
because her mother wanted her to do some things. 

As soon as the door closed behind her, I went straight up to my room and 
tore off my clothes. Then, I pressed my hand against my crotch as hard as I 
could and flopped down on the bed. 

For a while, I didn't make any moves or anything. I just lay there enjoying 
the pressure that my fingers were putting on my cunt. 

The sight of that big penis shooting dog-cream was really something else. 
After a few seconds, I stopped just cupping my crotch and began to trail my 
fingers back and forth across the surface of my cunt. 

I was as if I had just gotten out of the bathtub. My clit was so stiff that 
it nearly ached, and as for my labia, they were so sensitive that they could 
hardly bear to be touched. 

I wormed my fingers into my twat (a bicycle seat took care of my maidenhead 
a year before) and pressed my fingertips against the soft, wet cunt walls. 
That was really delicious, but I couldn't help thinking how much better a 
prick would feel in there. A dog's prick? Even a dog's prick. I wasn't sure 
that I was ever going to go so far as to allow Killer to stick his rod up 
into me, but in my present state how much better a prick would feel in 
there. A dog's prick? Even a dog's prick. I wasn't sure that I was ever 
going to go so far as to allow Killer to stick his rod up into me, but in my 
present state of excitement, I wasn't all that sure that I warnt going to, 
either. 

I rubbed my thumbs back and forth across labia, and then pressed them hard 
against my clit. There was a moment's numbness, followed by a flash of pure 
sensation as my body began to busk and heave and writhe to the force of my 
come. 

"Killer! Killer! Killer!" I moaned as I pressed my fingers against my soggy, 
spasming pussy-flesh and thought about that dog-prick gushing its wad out 
onto the floor and onto my hand. 

When I was done, I felt a bit sheepish and ashamed of myself. Not for 
beating off-I've never had any hang-ups about that-but for allowing myself 
to get so carried away by the idea of sex with a dog. And for licking his 
spunk. After all, there really is something pretty creepy and weird about 
the idea of licking a dog's spunk. 

"Hell," I said to myself, "what I need's a good boyfriend, good or 
otherwise, on the horizon, and I'm a girl with pretty strong sexual needs. 
So far, the only way that I had of meeting them was by myself or with 
Killer, and I couldn't help feeling that any kind of partner would be better 
than none at all. 

The next day in school, Mary Jane and I talked over the experience of the 
previous day. She admitted to having beaten off while thinking about Killer, 
and that made me feel a whole lot better. 

"Why don't I come over this evening, and we can see if we can get him to 
come again," she said. 

In fact, I was sure that she was also interested in seeing what other things 
could be done with the dog, but so was I. To tell the truth, after having to 
but up with lonely hand-jobs and sex education books for so long, I was 
really curious to see some more live male action. 

We had the house to ourselves again, and we sat on the floor chatting and 
tickling Killer behind the ears. 

He responded by licking Mary Jane on the hand. I couldn't help noticing how 
long and thin and flexible that tongue was. Mary Jane noticed the glance 
that I was giving, and said, "kind of gives you ideas, huh?" 

"You too." 

"Uh huh." 

"Do you think he'd want to?" 

"What, lick cunt? Sure. Haven't you ever had a dog that tried to get his 
face up your dress. They're particularly bad about that when you're having 
your period, though they do it at other times too." 

"Do you want to go first?" I asked. 

"Do you?" 

"Tell you what,' I said. "You know as well as I do that getting your cunt 
licked is just a start. There are all sorts of other things that I'd would 
be interested in trying out. So why don't we flip a coin. You call, and if 
you win the toos, you get to decide what you want to try. And I'll do 
something equally good." 

That seemed fair to Mary Jane. She won the toss and said that she would let 
him lick her cunt. 

She took her clothes off quickly, and then lay on her back with her cunt 
right next to the big dog's muzzle. 

Killer isn't just gentle, he's also sort of apathetic, so it took a little 
bit of effort to get him interested. I think that he'd have just as soon 
slept. But once I held his nose up close to Mary Jane's twat, so that he 
could smell her female odors, the picture changed quickly. I saw him perk up 
his ears, and I noticed his cock come sliding out of its sheath. He started 
lapping away on her cunt with great big strokes of that tongue of his. 

Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! The flexible member slid back and forth over her pussy, 
and it seemed like it was getting into just about every little nook and 
cranny imaginable. The sight of that pink tongue on my friend's pink 
cuntlips was enough to get me really cranked up. I felt my clit stiffen and 
my labia tingle. For two pins, I would have beaten off while watching the 
dog go for her twat. But I thought that I'd wait so that when I got my come 
doing whatever it was that I did with the dog, it would be all the better. 
In fact, since up to that time I'd never had a sex partner, I'd never tried 
to have more than one come in a row. I didn't yet know how completely 
multi-orgasmic I was. 

Mary Jane was arching her back and breathing heavily. She had her hands on 
her tits and was caressing the soft things vigorously. 

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" she moaned as she felt the tongue tease her clit and even work 
its way part of the distance up into her hole. 

I could tell that she wasn't far from her come, and it was a good thing, 
because I knew that there wasn't any way that I could keep my hands away 
from my twat for very much longer. 

All of a sudden, I saw her pelvis start to buck and heave, and I heard her 
let out a long, protracted groan. She as coming, and coming hard. I could 
tell that from the way in which she mashed her hands against her tits, from 
the way her forehead was covered from sweat, from the way her head was 
tossing from side to side.... 

And all the while, the big dog continued to lap and lap on that spasming, 
agonized cunt.... 

"Wheewwwwwww!" Mary Jane sighed. "Quite a ride?" 

"Quite ... a ... ride...." It was obvious from her tone of voice that she 
felt almost completely fucked-out and exhausted. 

It was clear thought that if she was satisfied, the big Doberman wasn't. His 
tongue was still slurping away on her spent pussy, and his cock was all the 
way out of its sheath. It looked even harder than it had the night before, 
and that meant that it had to be pretty fucking hard indeed. 

It was my turn, and my responsibility to do something about that prick of 
his. At first, I thought about sucking the dog's cock, but then, all of a 
sudden, I decided that I might as well go all the way. I felt horny as hell, 
and I knew that it would really impress Mary Jane for me to just casually 
decide to actually fuck with the dog. 

I got onto my hands and knees and presented my twat to the dog. Mary Jane 
had gotten to her feet, so he wasn't licking her twat any more. 

I guess that dogs have sort of one-track minds, because despite the fact 
that his prick was literally aching for a come, Killer was a bit slow off 
the mark in recognizing the opportunity that was being presented to him. 
Instead of mounting me right away, he moved his muzzle up to my cunt and 
started to lick on it just like he had on Mary Jane's. 

"Are you just going to have him eat you out?" Mary Jane asked, a note of 
disappointment in her voice. She had obviously hoped that I was going to do 
something a bit different and more daring than she had. After all, that was 
more or less what I had promised, and after having gone first, which 
required a fair amount of courage, she quite reasonably felt that I should 
give her a better show than just a cuntlapping like the one that she had 
finished receiving herself. 

"Oh, don't worry," I said, a bit exasperated by the dog's slowness to 
understand what it was that I wanted. "Here, lift his paws up onto my back, 
and you'll get a chance to see something worthwhile." 

She did as I asked, and no sooner was Killer in position than he figured out 
what it was that was expected of him, and went to work. I felt him prod his 
prick-tip against the entrance to my cunt, and then, after he had figured 
out where the hole was, he slid his long, thin member on into me. A gasp 
from Mary Jane indicated that she was indeed suitably impressed. 

The cock felt really wonderful as it slid into me. As I felt the walls of my 
cunt being pressed apart, I couldn't help thinking that this was my real, 
female destiny-to be entered, filled, possessed by a hard male tool! 

I don't think that Killer was so interested in that kind of philosophizing. 
His bag was sliding his cock back and forth inside a cunt till he got his 
rocks off, and that was just exactly what he intended on doing here. 

He started bucking away rapidly, without a second's pause, and was soon 
sliding his prick back and forth with very evenly-paced strokes. I've taken 
music, and I couldn't help thinking that being fucked by Killer was a little 
bit like being fucked by a metronome. There was a certain slightly 
monotonous quality. 

Well, monotonous as far as the tempo goes. But that doesn't mean that there 
wasn't plenty of pleasure for me to have, too. Every thrust of that prick 
pulled my labia across my clit in the most tantalizing,-'exciting manner 
imaginable. My hips quivered slightly with every stroke that the dog gave 
me. And adding to my already intense excitement was the thought that this 
was somehow turning me into a grown woman. If you've had prick in your cunt, 
you can't be considered a little girl any more, it seemed to me. 

Buck! Buck! Buck! This below-the-waist action of his was driving me pretty 
well out of my mind, and I was managing much the same sort of thing myself 
above the waist. In fact, I was giving my tits fits. I was moving my 
shoulders from side to side to make them swing, I was pressing them up 
against my chest, I was teasing and pulling on the nipples until the little 
nubs were almost ready to burst with excitement.... 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 

Cock! Cunt! Cock! Cunt! I was quickly turning into one great palpitating 
mass of come-need. 

"Come! Gotta come! Make me Come!" I gasped. 

He almost had me there ... almost ... almost.... 

My eyes were tightly closed now, my tongue was hanging out of my mouth, my 
shoulders were rocking gently from side to side.... 

In! Out! In! Out! Nearly there.... 

"Just can't stand it ... just can't.. . " 

And all of a sudden, the dam bust and I was coming, coming, COMING! 

My hips bucked and churned, my cunt contracted frantically around the dog's 
prick, and the prick responded by shooting gob after gob after gob of dog 
cream deep, deep into me. 

"Woman! I'm a WOMAN!" I gasped as I felt the sperm pour on into me. The dog 
had possessed me, taken me, fucked me.... 

At last the orgasm subsided, and Killer lost no time in pulling his cock out 
of me. I would have sort of liked it for him to have left it in there awhile 
longer, so that I could have felt it actually soften up a bit inside me, but 
I guess that dogs aren't interested in that sort of thing. Once they've 
gotten their rocks off, that's it as far as they are concerned. 

I got to my feet, and felt the sperm dribble out of my cunt. I looked over 
at Mary Jane. She was lying on the floor with her hand on her cunt and a 
very satisfied expression on her face. It was obvious that she had beaten 
off while watching me get fucked by Killer. 

"That was quite something," she said. 

"Yeah," I said, "yeah it was." 

I think both of us sensed that there was no turning back.... 

After Mary Jane had left, I started to feel more and more depressed about 
the fact that I was acquiring such a taste for animal sex. I thought for a 
moment that maybe I should foreswear any future fucking with Killer. But I'm 
a pretty good judge of my own willpower. I know perfectly well what promises 
I can keep and what ones I can't. The feeling of that hard dog-dick sliding 
back and forth inside me was something that I just wouldn't be able to do 
without from now on. 

In fact, later on that very evening, just before going to bed, I found 
myself wondering what it would be like to suck on Killer's prick. As you 
remember, that was the activity that I had originally been planning to 
fulfill my agreement with Mary Jane with. For some reason, I just couldn't 
get the image of that cock out of my mind, and every time that I thought 
about it, I would find my tongue sliding out of my mouth and wetting my lips 
with anticipation. 

"I guess that there's no fighting it," I said. I went downstairs and found 
Killer sleeping by the fire. I knew that you're supposed to let sleeping 
dogs lie, but I figured that he wouldn't mind being woken up for something 
as nice as a blow-job. 

In fact, I guess he had already come to associate me pretty closely with 
sex, because as soon as I woke him up by patting him on the head, his prick 
started to slip part way out of its sheath. 

"C'mon, boy," I said. "I've got something nice in store for you." 

I led him upstairs to my bedroom. There, I got him to stand on the bed, 
while I knelt next to him. I put my hand under his belly and took hold of 
his cock-sheath, which I rubbed and stroked a couple of times. like I said, 
the rod was already part of the way out into the open anyway, and the 
attentions that I was giving it brought it the rest of the way out in no 
time flat. I could feel the thing pulse and vibrate between my fingers with 
raw, male energy. My clit tingled with excitement, and I felt a drop of 
pussy-fluid trickle down the inside of my left thigh. 

I bent down and moved my head under the big dog's stomach. There the cock 
was, all right, hard, long, eager-looking. 

I gave a little kiss right on the tip. That caused it to give an extra 
little surge. Then, I placed my lips around it sideways, and slid them up 
and down the length of the thing, while Killer stood very, very still and 
very, very tense. 

I ran my lips over his balls, which were pulled up as tight as they could go 
in their sack. I even took them in my mouth for a while and sucked on them 
before turning my attention back to the big animal's prick. After all, that 
was the most important target. 

I nibbled at the very end of his cock with my lips, and then finally slipped 
them over it. 

It was a real groove having that long, hard thing there in my mouth. 
Although you think of the cunt as a more specifically female part of the 
body than the mouth (after all, guys have mouths too), somehow having that 
rod between my lips made me feel every bit as possessed and female as having 
it in my cunt had done. 

I slid the lips up and down the length of his prick for a while, before 
settling down on sucking at the root of the thing, while using my right hand 
to caress his ball sack. My left hand was busy elsewhere, namely working 
over my steamy cunt, which was already so excited that it was just about 
demanding a come. 

As I worked my fingers against my labia and up into my hole, I continued to 
pull on the dog's penis with my mouth. My tongue was inside my mouth, and I 
was pressing the tip of it against that part of the shaft that was there 
too. And all the while, the big Doberman stood still and patient. He knew by 
now that when I got interested in his penis, it meant that he was going to 
have a good time. 

I figure that fucking required plenty of variety, so after sucking on his 
prick root for a while, I moved my lips up and began to work over the end of 
his cock. That really drove him wild, judging from the happy bark that he 
gave and the way in which his legs trembled with excitement.... 

All the while I was giving my pussy one of the most thorough workouts that 
it had ever gotten. I was rubbing my clit and labia in all directions, and 
doing everything else that I possibly could to stimulate my twat. 

I was so wet down there that I finally took my mouth off of the dog's prick 
for a second so that I could lick my fingers. It would be interesting to 
compare the taste of my female juices with that of the dog's male ones. 

I wanted to come at the same time the dog did, and I figured that this 
wasn't going to be any problem. Already, my twat was just about to melt from 
cone-need. All I had to do was wait until I knew the Doberman was about to 
let fly, and then apply a tiny bit more pressure to my clit and labia. That 
would be enough to get me off. 

It didn't seem that that moment was going to be very far off, either. I 
could tell from the heavy labored breaths that Killer was taking, tell from 
the way his cock felt in my mouth, tell from all sorts of other little signs 
that I instinctively understood that he was right on the brink of his come. 

I pressed my lips harder against his cock-skin, and at the same moment, I 
gave a little pinch to my clit. 

Bam! I timed it perfectly. At just the exact instant that my pussy erupted 
into a flaming volcano of come-pleasure, I felt the first gobs of sperm 
shoot out of Killer's prick and splatter against the back of my mouth. 

Gush! Gush! Gush! Man oh man, were those balls of his full! 

I held my crotch tightly and reveled in the feeling of my hips trembling and 
my cunt contracting, as all the time my mouth serve as the sperm-receptacle 
for a great big dog! 

Finally, he stopped shooting, and at long last, my cunt stopped convulsing. 
We were done, and we both felt very, very played out. I continued to suck on 
his prick for a while, then slipped my lips off of the thing. 

My bedroom has a private bathroom, and I went in and looked at myself in the 
mirror. I used my tongue to force a drop or two of the dog-spunk up over the 
top of my lips, so that I could see it dribble down to my chin. I opened my 
mouth and looked at the pool of semen there, and I dipped my fingers in it 
and held them up to the light. After playing around like that for a little 
while more, I gulped the Doberman's load down. 

I got into bed and turned out the light. It wasn't easy for me to get to 
sleep, though. I had really wanted to blow Killer, and I knew perfectly well 
that tomorrow, I would want to do something similar with him. What I didn't 
understand was why I felt so bad about this sort of thing in between times. 

Sure enough, despite all my guilt feelings of the evening before, when I 
woke up that morning, I was just as eager as ever to have some sex with that 
fine big dog of mine. In fact, I would have liked to have a quickie before 
going off to school, but I just didn't have time. The day dragged on pretty 
slowly as I waited for school to end so that I could get back to my beloved 
dog. 

"By the way," Mary Jane said to me, "how does Killer get along with cats?" 
"Cats?" 

"Uh huh," she said. "The J.'s have left their cat Pudding with us for a 
couple of days. I've been thinking that there's all sorts of fun that we 
might have with him." 

"Have you tried out any of this fun?" 

"You'd better believe it," Mary Jane said. "In fact, if you think that 
having your cunt licked by a dog is neat, wait until you try out that raspy 
tongue that a cat has." "It's small, isn't it?" 

"Yeah," she said, "but that just means that it fits in everywhere. I'm not 
kidding. Getting your cunt licked by a cat is really neat." 

"Well, to answer your first question, Killer has never had any trouble 
getting along with cats, but would the cat get along with him?" 

"Oh yes. Pudding's very used to the J.'s old dog, whose boarding out with 
Sheila while the J.'s are away. I think that the two of them should get 
along famously." 

I had to admit that I was fascinated by the idea of a foursome involving a 
dog and a cat, so I told Mary Jane that I would bring Killer over to her 
place. It seems less suspicious to take a dog for a walk than to try and do 
that with a cat. 

The cat in question was a big, lazy looking Persian. Mary Jane asked if I 
would like to start out by having him lick my cunt. 

I agreed, and soon the creature had that raspy tongue going all over my 
twat. I had to admit that she was completely right. It really was quite a 
sensation! I guess that tomcats are just as turned on by women's smell as 
dogs are, because Pudding really licked at me with enthusiasm. Every time 
that sandpaper surface would drag across my labia, I'd think that I was 
going straight out of my mind. 

Finally, a last lick across my clit was enough to get me over the top, and 
my cunt exploded in a series of violent shudders while the feline continued 
to lick and lap at me, like he was drinking from a bowl of cream! 

Seeing me get my cunt licked like that had made Mary Jane hungry for some 
similar action, so she had Killer do it with her while I was getting it from 
the big Persian tomcat. 

Then, after we had gotten our breath back a bit, I decided to see if it 
would be possible to get Killer to fuck me face-to-face, just like a boy 
would. 

"I've got my doubts," Mary Jane said. 

"Me too, but it's worth a try. After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained, 
or whatever it is that they say." 

I lay on the floor with my legs spread, while Mary Jane, acting on my 
instructions led Killer up so that he was standing with his forepaws above 
my shoulders, and his hind paws on either side of my hips. 

"Okay boy, sit," I said. 

He took that pretty literally too, just plunking his ass down on the floor. 
Clearly, he didn't have a clue as to what it was that I really wanted him to 
do. 

I reached down and took hold of his prick. I gently bent this down away from 
his body, and then raised my hips slightly. By jockeying around in this 
fashion, I was finally able to get my cunt over the tip of his cock. 

Feeling my pussy flesh press in on his tool like that turned out to be the 
only inspiration that he needed. Even though the position was of course 
totally new to him, with that stimulus, he was able to figure out what I 
wanted. He shoved his rod in, and started to buck it back and forth. 

At first, the going wasn't all that smooth, as he tried to get accustomed to 
the position. But after a while he sort of got the swing of things, and the 
action improved a great deal. 

What was nice was for me to be able to see my partner. There are some nice 
aspects to be taken from behind, as if by surprise, but it's also nice for a 
change to be able to get a good look at the fellow who's sliding his cock 
back and forth inside your body like that. 

"Quick," I said to Mary Jane, "go get some beef concentrate if you have it." 

Mary Jane headed out of the room quickly and returned with a little bottle 
of beef concentrate from the kitchen. You know, the kind of stuff that you 
make beef bouillon with. One drop is used per cup of water to make bouillon, 
so you can imagine how beefy it tastes undiluted. 

I told Mary Jane to pour some of the stuff on my breasts, and particularly 
on my nipples. 

Of course, the dog could smell it, and he immediately started to lick away 
on my tits to get at the beefy taste. I was really rather pleased with 
myself for finding this way of getting him interested in licking my tits, 
since I knew that in general they were something that a dog wouldn't be 
inclined to show any interest in at all. 

Slurp! Slosh! Slurp! That tongue, which felt so wonderful when it was 
licking my twat, felt every bit as good as it went to work on my tits. 

My nipples swelled out with excitement as they felt it rubbing back and 
forth against them. 

And all the time, I had the penis working away inside my twat, back and 
forth, back and forth. 

I stroked Killer's ears and kissed him on his cold, doggy nose as he 
continued to lay it into me. 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! 

"Come! Need come! Need come!" I gasped in perfect time to his strokes. 

And then, I teas coming, with my cunt clutching hard at a cock that 
responded by shooting gob after gob after gob of sperm up into it. 

"Uh! Uh! Uh! UHHHHHHHH!" 

And that was it. 

For a moment, I had a bit of trouble putting my thoughts together, the come 
had left me so dazed. All I knew was that I had had a very, very good time. 

One thing about Mary Jane: she certainly wasn't a girl who was ever short on 
ideas. As soon as I had finished with Killer, she said, "now to find out how 
compatible my cunt and Pudding's prick are!" 

"You're kidding, aren't you?" 

"Not in the least. After all, look how excited his thing is!" 

And it was true enough that the cat's penis was very, very rigid looking. 
Licking Mary Jane's cunt had obviously gotten the big Persian all worked up, 
and he needed some relief. I would have thought that Mary Jane would have 
either given him a hand-job, or maybe blown him, though if I had been her I 
wouldn't have wanted those claws near my face. But that didn't seem to be 
what she had in mind. 

"How on earth can you fuck with him, Mary Jane?" I asked. "His cock's so 
small that you'll never notice it in your cunt." 

"Not in my cunt, true, but how about on my cunt?" 

I still wasn't quite sure what it was that she had in mind, but she didn't 
take long in enlightening me. She lay back with her legs spread and held the 
tomcat so that his cock rested against the outside of her cunt. Against the 
labia and the stiff little clit. 

"After all," she said, "the outside of the cunt is every bit as sensitive as 
the inside, or maybe even more so. That's the principle that I'm working 
under." 

And having said that, she started to sort of undulate her hips, so that her 
labia pulled back and forth across the cat's penis. 

That was done for purposes of inspiration, and sure enough, it didn't take 
very long for Pudding to get the idea. The big tomcat started to move his 
hips back and forth, as he masturbated himself on his temporary mistress's 
tender twat, so to speak. That enabled her to lie back and enjoy the 
voluptuous pleasures of passivity. 

I found the sight pretty enthralling. I had my head down near her cunt, and 
I could see the cat's hard little prick (well, not all that little, 
considering the size of the animal) slide back and forth, back and forth on 
her labia. The pink of the cat's penis just about perfectly matched the pink 
of her labia. It was all a weltering mass of soggy, wrinkled skin and wild 
sexual pleasure! 

The cat moved his prick faster and faster as he got more and more excited. 
That was an interesting contrast to Killer, who used pretty much the same 
tempo throughout each fuck. 

Although she had started out enjoying the pleasure of being passive and 
letting Pudding do all the work, as Mary Jane got more and more excited, she 
started to move her hips slightly too, to increase the stimulation for both 
of them. 

All of a sudden, I saw the cat's rod start to quiver, and then quite a 
stream of cock-juice come shooting out. I was amazed at how much of the 
stuff Pudding had in his balls, but then again, I had been amazed the first 
time by the amount of jism that Killer had. 

As Pudding's penis let fly, I saw Mary Jane's hips buck and heave, and heard 
her gasp with excitement. There could be no doubt at all of the fact that 
she was really coming hard. 

As she came, she pressed the cat as close to her as she could, so that she 
could enjoy his furry warmth as well as the virile energy of his spewing 
cock. 

All this time, while I had been engaging in sex with Killer and Pudding, I 
had felt pretty bad about it, but I had consoled myself with the thought 
that maybe the only reason that I got it off on animals was that I simply 
didn't have any other partner. The other boys in my class were either jerks 
or they just didn't have the nerve to ask me to fuck. I went to the movies 
and to pizza parlors and places like that with them, but there was never 
much action. One of them actually put his hand on my right tit, and believe 
it or not, I could feel the hand tremble. Not with excitement. With fear. 

When a boy finally did ask me out who seemed like he might be a bit more 
aggressive, I was almost afraid to accept for fear that I would find when 
put to the test that I really did prefer animals to humans after all. 

The boy in question was Greg P. He was an eleventh grader, and he had kind 
of a reputation around the school as a cocksman. It was said that if a girl 
didn't want to have sex with him, she'd better not accept a date from him, 
since he had a smooth-tongued line of bullshit that would get through the 
most determined feminine resistance. 

Well, I wasn't interested in putting up any of the latter, so I figured that 
maybe things would really go well between us. 

Despite the fact that he had a reputation as a pretty aggressive character, 
Greg wasn't really a bad sort of guy. He knew what he wanted, that was all. 

We wound up back at his place, which was pretty much what I had expected, 
and it wasn't long before his hands were on my tits. The difference between 
this time and the time I described with that other boy was immense. Not only 
did Greg's hands not tremble with nervousness, but there was something 
supremely self-confident about them. They had obviously been on plenty of 
tits in their time, obviously figured that that was a natural place to be, 
and were prepared to give plenty of pleasure. 

I put up a very token kind of resistance, more for the sake of his ego than 
anything else, and it wasn't more than a minute after Greg had put his hands 
on my tits that he had my sweater and bra off and was giving my globes a 
direct feel. 

His hands really knew how to work tit, too. He would gently caress the 
nipples until they swelled up to about three times their normal size. He 
trailed his fingers across the surface of the tits, and sort of moved the 
globes around in lazy circles. 

Although he was obviously a guy who really enjoyed handling breasts, that 
certainly didn't mean that he wasn't pretty good with other parts of the 
female body. He moved his right hand down to my crotch, and after pulling my 
soggy panties away, began giving me an absolutely delicious feel down there. 

"You want it, don't you?" he said in that smooth voice of his to which it 
was impossible to give a no answer. 

I just nodded my head. 

He got on top of me and slid his penis inside my body. Then, he started 
bucking away. 

It was as much as a minute perhaps before I realized that something was very 
badly wrong. His cock was providing nice sensations to my cunt, there could 
be no doubt about that, but it wasn't really getting me worked up to a come. 
The in-and-out was pleasant, but there wasn't that gradually mounting 
crescendo of excitement that I had come to expect from my fucks with Killer, 
or for that matter, from the hand jobs that I'd been giving myself since 
puberty. 

I gave a little shiver of anxiety. This was just exactly the sort of thing 
that I had been afraid of. By screwing around with the dog, I had spoiled 
myself for human sex. I didn't know how I had done it, but I had. 

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. Surely, if I gave little 
counterthrusts with my hips and tensed the muscles in my legs, like I 
sometimes did when I beat off, that would help. 

No dice. And from the pace with which Greg was laying it into me, I could 
guess that he wasn't far from his come. He wasn't a bad guy, and the fact 
that I wasn't getting turned on certainly wasn't his fault, so I figured 
that I had better fake it. 

I did a convincing enough job, I guess, gasping and groaning and moaning, 
and clutching at his prick with my cunt. But as far as I was concerned, 
there wasn't anything. I was frigid. 

Frigid! What a horrible word. And what a horrible way to be! 

"Did you have a good time?" I heard Greg ask. 

"Sure. Fine." I said, and I smiled as I said it. I would have preferred to 
cry. 

He went and got some drinks for us, and we sat on the sofa and chatted for a 
while. Then he asked me if I would like to have him lick my cunt. 

I hoped that maybe things would go better with oral sex, so I agreed. He 
knelt down in front of me and pressed his face against my cunt. Then his 
tongue went darting rapidly out to tease and caress my labia and my clit. 

But the same thing happened that happened when he had his prick inside me. 
There was a definite initial stimulation, but this never got any farther, 
never developed into anything. The feeling of his tongue on my tender female 
parts was nice, but I just couldn't get worked up enough to come. 

He was slurping and slurping away, and I suddenly realized that unless I 
pretended to come again, he might go on licking until his tongue was 
exhausted. I went through the same sort of motions that I had during the 
fuck. He got something out of it, at any rate, since even though he wasn't 
able to make my pussy come, it did secrete a fair amount of cunt-dringle. 

After that, he wanted me to suck his prick. Normally, I would have thought 
that really nice, but now I was so heartbroken that the only thing I could 
do was just work away on him mechanically until he came. 

I went running up to my room when I got home, threw myself on my bed, and 
then just cried and cried and cried. While I was crying, I heard a 
scratching on the door. It was Killer. I let him in, and decided to fuck 
with him to see if I would be frigid with him too. In a way, I almost hoped 
that I was. After all being completely frigid seems a lot less kinky than 
just being able to get it off with dogs. 

But in fact, as his cock slid back and forth inside me, I noticed just the 
phenomenon that had been missing when I had been fucking with Greg. The 
level of excitement built up and up, and soon I found my body writhing with 
frantic come-need, until at last the bubble burst, and my pussy let loose 
with the orgasm that it had been trying to have all night. It clutched 
desperately at the big cock, which unloaded itself into it in good, hard 
spurts. 

As soon as the come subsided, though, I found myself crying again, about the 
weird situation that I had gotten myself into, and the fact that I would 
apparently only be able to enjoy sex when I had it with animals! 

The trouble with socially unconventional sexual behavior is not that it is 
in some way "wrong" in and of itself, but the fact that society regards it 
as such can cause enormous emotional problems for the person who finds him 
or herself engaging in it. Penny W.'s case is an almost perfect illustration 
of this fact. 

Her initial sexual involvement with animals stemmed from a combination of 
sexual desire, curiosity, and the wish to behave in a grown-up way. We have 
seen these factors at work before, namely in the case of Suzanne T. However, 
where Suzanne T. was an essentially insecure person, there is every reason 
to believe that Penny W.'s personality was essentially a well-adjusted one 
at the time she first began having sex with her Doberman, Killer. The layman 
may find it difficult to accept the possibility of someone with a 
well-adjusted personality getting sexually involved with a dog, but that is 
simply because of his own prejudices. The phenomenon of two young teenage 
girls discussing sex and getting drawn into sexual experimentation is an 
extremely common one. Sometimes, this experimentation is lesbian in nature. 
In this case, it involved bestiality. 

If it were not for the fact that society regards bestiality as essentially 
depraved, there would have been nothing to prevent Penny from moving on from 
involvement with animals to involvement with boys. As was true with Suzanne 
T., the boys would have eventually caught up with her in terms of sexual 
aggressiveness and maturity. But right from the beginning of her involvement 
with Killer, Penny felt strong feelings of guilt. They were suppressed 
during the actual sexual relations, as one would expect, but manifested 
themselves afterwards, once the excitement had died down. 

And, it should be noticed, they got increasingly intensive as time went by. 
At first, the thrill of actually engaging in sex was such that she was able 
to push her scruples under the rug fairly easily. But as the newness wore 
off, the feelings of guilt were increasingly able to make themselves felt. 

The fear that she might not be able to successfully engage in sex with a 
boy, as opposed to a dog or cat, was a direct manifestation of these 
feelings of guilt. Inwardly, because she had violated a social taboo, she 
felt that she was not worthy of any boy. The frigidity was a punishment 
which she subconsciously inflicted upon herself for her deviation from the 
sexual norm. 

Because an ability to "perform" sexually is something which our culture 
places a high value on, sexual dysfunctions are apt to perpetuate themselves 
through the individual's very fear of their recurrence. The man who for some 
perhaps perfectly unimportant reason such as drunkenness is unable to get an 
erection may find that henceforth he will be impotent because he is afraid, 
he will be. In a sense, sex is one of those things where the harder you try, 
the less-likely you are to achieve success. The more Penny feared that she 
was not going to be able to have an orgasm with Greg, the more un-likely it 
was that she would be able to do so. 

Clearly, my job as therapist in this case was twofold. I had to eliminate 
the irrational guilt which Penny W. felt about the sexual relations she had 
been having with animals, and I had to enable her to again be able to have 
orgasms with human males. Obviously, there was a lot of overlap between 
these two tasks. As long as she felt guilty and had a subconscious desire to 
punish herself by frigidity, she would never be able to have an orgasm. But 
because of the importance of the fear-of-failure factor that I mentioned 
above, removing the guilt would not be enough by itself. It would be 
perfectly possible for her guilt as regards bestiality to be eliminated, but 
for her to still be unable to achieve orgasm with a boy because, having 
failed once, she would fear failure on all future occasions of intercourse, 
and would be unable to achieve the state of confidence necessary for orgasm. 

The removal of the guilt was, however, of necessity my first task, and this 
I was eventually able to do by repeatedly emphasizing to her the relative 
nature or moral codes and the fact that her sexual exploration was not 
nearly as unusual as she seemed to think. 

As for the actual fear of failure, I would have liked to send her to a sex 
clinic, where through actual practice individuals are often able to overcome 
sexual dysfunction. But her limited means prohibited this (she was 
absolutely adamant about wanting to keep her parents in the dark about her 
problem), and for legal reasons, no sex clinic would take on a minor without 
parental consent. 

As her guilt disappeared, though, she found herself increasingly willing to 
accept invitations from boys, and as time passed, the boys in her age group 
grew older and more adventurous. She finally found a boy who seemed very 
understanding and considerate, and whom she liked a good deal. On my advice, 
she confided her orgasm problem to him, which meant that when they had sex, 
she did not feel obligated to go through the frustrating business of 
pretending to have an orgasm. With that psychological pressure removed, she 
was already much more-likely to reach climax, and through patience and 
understanding her boyfriend was finally able to bring her to orgasm, almost 
when she least expected it. Her mental block belonged to the category of 
those which, once overcome, usually do not cause any more trouble. As for 
sex with dogs, although she no longer regarded it as "wrong", her guilt on 
the subject having been removed, she found that it was a poor substitute for 
sex with a boy she really cared about, and so lost interest in it. 

CASE HISTORY FIVE 

Christine Y. was a good-looking blonde of sixteen who had gotten her parents 
to agree to pay for therapy by telling them that she suffered from 
nightmares. In fact, that was just a cover story. Her real problem was a 
good deal more intimate than that. 

"The thing is, doctor," she said to me, "that I've gotten into this funny 
situation, and the more I think about it, the more and more worried I 
became. I mean, it really seems pretty sick. So I thought that maybe I 
should come and see someone like you so as to get a professional opinion on 
where my head is at." 

"What exactly is this situation?" I asked. 

"I fuck with dogs." "Regularly?" 

"Just about every day. That's pretty kinky, isn't it?" 

"I've certainly met plenty of other females who have sex with dogs, and 
those who do usually do so quite frequently. But maybe you'd like to tell me 
all about it." 

She paused a moment, took a deep breath, and then began her story.... 

I'm really quite fond of clothes, and as you know, clothes are pretty 
expensive. My parents are really generous people, but there's a limit to how 
much I can put the tap on them. Besides, it's a nice feeling to know that 
you can take care of yourself. So, I've been doing various sorts of odd jobs 
ever since I was a fairly little girl. 

I started out with babysitting, of course, but I don't get on all that well 
with kids, and besides, I wanted to find something that would pay a bit 
better per hour. 

Finally, I hit on the idea of starting a dog-walking service. It may seem 
funny that there are people who are willing to pay more to have their dogs 
looked after than other people are to have someone watch over their 
children, but that's the way it is. There are lots of lonely, rich old 
people for whom their dogs are almost their only friends. But because 
they're lazy, or unable to move about much, they have trouble walking the 
things. So, that's where I come in. 

I got my start in the business through an aunt who's pretty well connected 
socially. She needed someone to take her poodle for a walk twice a week (she 
could take care of it the other days), and she paid me to do it. And she 
recommended me to her friends, so soon I had almost more business than I can 
handle. 

Of course, the reason you can really clean up compared to babysitting is 
that you can only sit for one family at a time. But with dogs, there's 
nothing to prevent you from taking seven or eight of them for a walk at the 
same time, as long as they aren't all great big animals. Usually, rich old 
ladies prefer something fairly compact, like a toy poodle, or a schnauzer, 
or something like that, so even if there is one husky or German shepherd or 
something like that in the bunch, it isn't any problem for me to keep the 
dogs in control. 

Now, at the time that the bestiality business got going, I had been walking 
dogs for about a year, and I had had this particular boyfriend named Bill 
for about six months. I thought that he was a really neat guy, which shows 
just how dumb I can be sometimes. There isn't anything that I wouldn't have 
done for him, and of course, that included sex. In fact, I have a really hot 
little box, and I liked to have Bill bang it on every possible occasion. 

One evening, I had dropped by his place on Saturday. I was supposed to pick 
up my dogs in about three quarters of an hour, but that meant that I could 
easily fit in a fuck. 

Bill was every bit as eager to take advantage of the time as I was, and it 
wasn't long before he had my blouse and bra off, and was kissing my tits. 

One thing about Bill: he certainly does know how to kiss tit. He had a way 
of running his lips lightly over the surface of my breasts that used to 
drive me wild. He also had a neat way of kind of sucking on the breast, too, 
with his lips. Not just on the nipple, which is a pretty obvious sort of 
place to suck, but elsewhere too, including the underside of the breast, 
where it turns back to the body. Until Bill showed me, I had never realized 
what a sensitive part of the body that was. 

He gave a whole series of long loving kisses there that day, while reaching 
his right hand up under my skirt to get at my panties, which were already 
pretty wet with excitement. It goes without saying that they got a good deal 
wetter as I felt him press his fingers through the thin fabric apd against 
the tender labia. My hips were giving little shuddering motions as he gently 
flicked the clit, too, with his thumb. 

Bill liked to progress gradually in sex, so it was only after all this had 
been going on for some time that he pulled the panties down so as to permit 
direct contact between his fingers and my steamy pussy. 

After he did get the clinging garment away, he wormed his fingers up into my 
hole. The feeling of him poking around inside me like that was delicious, 
and even nicer was the certainty that it wouldn't be too long until his 
fingers were replaced there by his fine, hard cock! 

I was writhing around on the couch in excitement, and though I had my hand 
on the crotch of his pants, he still seemed to be a lot cooler than I. I 
pulled the zipper down, and let the cock punch out against the white fabric 
of the underpants. Then I pulled the underpants down, and the massive rod 
bobbed into freedom, expanding as it went. 

Now that I was able to get directly at his cock, he seemed to get a lot more 
worked up, even though I think it was kind of a pose that he liked, to 
always seem blas', even at moments when anyone else would have been 
overwhelmed with passion. 

"Put it in me! Put it in me!" I groaned. My aching nipples and clit and my 
soggy pussy just couldn't put up with very much more of this delightful but 
frustrating stimulation. I just had to have a come, and that was all there 
was to that. 

It seemed for some reason that Bill would always wait until I really called 
out for his prick so that it would seem almost as if he were doing me some 
kind of a favor, though maybe I'm imagining things. At any rate, he was 
willing to comply with my request. 

"Why don't we do it dog-style," he said. 

That was fine by me. Quite aside from the fact that he had felt me up to 
such a fever-pitch that literally any position would have been fine by me, 
the truth of the matter was that I always enjoyed being taken from behind 
like that. (You must understand that at this point the only experience that 
I had ever had with the "dog-style" fuck had involved humans.) 

I got onto my hands and knees, and he positioned himself behind me He took 
my waist in his hands and squeezed it. Then, he moved his prick on into my 
vagina. 

Whatever other faults Bill may or may not have, he doesn't have a small 
penis, that's for sure. In fact, the thing is so big, that it was a good 
thing that when we were going together that I am a very wet sort of girl who 
lubricates up really rapidly. Otherwise, we would have had a pretty hard 
time of it. 

He eased his prick into me slowly, and then, after waiting for a moment, 
pulled it out again. 

I guess being a tease is part of Bill's nature, because there was really 
something maddening about the way he pulled his cock out. Something about 
his motions, about the slow, determined way in which he pulled his rod back, 
seemed to indicate that he was going to take his cock all the way out of me. 
I think that I would have died of the frustration if he had done any such 
thing. 

Finally, when only the hard knob on the end was inside me, he said, "shall 
I?" He didn't specify what it was that he was considering, but I was so 
afraid that he might remove his cock and leave me high and dry that I said, 
"please, Bill, don't fool around. Just let me have that prick of yours." 

He paused a second longer, and then shoved on in again. Then, he started to 
slide his cock regularly back and forth. 

It was a wonderful relief to know that he was not going to leave me 
unsatisfied (he did that once, when he was mad at me) and I started to 
really enjoy the fuck. 

In ... out ... in ... out.... And all the while, he was using his hands very 
skillfully on my tits, as he cupped and fondled the things, rubbed them 
together, rubbed them against each other, pinched the nipples, and did all 
sorts of nice things to them. 

I was pretty worked up already when he had started the fuck, so you can 
imagine the state that I was in after just a few minutes of the old 
in-and-out. That cock of his was pulling my labia across my clit in the most 
tantalizing way imaginable every time it thrust in or pulled out, and I 
wasn't at all sure how much longer my clit could take the attention. I was 
very tense already, and breathing in very slow, labored gasps. 

Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck! He had really picked up a lot of speed by now, and 
slammed his tool hard inside me. I was trembling now, every single muscle in 
my body was trembling, and still he rode me. He had a very good technique 
when it came to keeping me right on the edge of my orgasm but not letting me 
go over. 

Then, all of a sudden, he pulled back fast and slammed home even faster. He 
really sort of took me by surprise. One instant, I was all charged up, it is 
true, but thought that the fuck still had a way to go. The next instant, I 
was coming furiously, with my pussy clutching hard as his spasming rod. 

Gush! Gush! Gush! His cock was shooting gob after gob after gob of boycream 
into me, and my cunt was responding in kind of clutching desperately at his 
whanger while my hips heaved and shuddered and bucked. "Uh! Uh! UHHHHH!" 

Cock, cock, cock! Firing, shooting, spurting, gushing! 

Cunt, cunt, CUNT! Female organ clutching, quivering, feeling! 

At last we were done, and he pulled his rod out of me. I got weakly to my 
feet. 

"You know, that was quite a fuck," I said. 

"I always try to please," he replied. 

It was getting time for me to pick up the dogs. I always give the owners a 
specific time that I'll be by. Since most of the owners live in the same 
part of town, it doesn't take me more than about a half hour to collect them 
at most. I drop them off in order, too. 

As I said goodbye to Bill, I thought for the umpteenth time what a lucky 
girl I was. I mean, it was true that at times he seemed maybe a tiny bit 
arrogant, but that didn't matter too much. After all, he was such a great 
guy that he had a right to be a little bit stuck-up, or so it seemed to me 
at the time. 

And best of all, he seemed to really keep his word about going steady with 
me. I had never heard any rumors at school about him messing around with 
other chicks. 

I got all the way to the lobby of his apartment building when I realized 
that I had left my handbag in his place. I went back, and was about to knock 
on the door when I heard his voice. He was on the telephone, and it was 
obvious that he was talking to another girl. He was telling her that he was 
going to pick her up at seven that evening to go to the movies. 

I just about exploded when I heard that. I had wanted to go out with him 
tonight, and as I took going steady seriously, when he said that he wouldn't 
be able to make it because he had a lot of back schoolwork to get through, 
that meant that I would just have to spend Saturday night sitting around 
home by myself. 

Now I had discovered that the creep simply wanted to two-time me with some 
chick named Carol. 

I was tempted to bang on the door and have the whole thing out with him 
right then and there, but I decided not to. He's a really smooth-talking 
bastard, and I was afraid that if I demanded an explanation, he'd give me 
one so convincing that I'd forgive him. I knew what I had heard, and I 
didn't plan on being tricked. 

Besides, it was getting late, and I didn't want to get in trouble with my 
clients. I hurried off to pick up the mutts. 

When I had them all collected, I took them to the park. There was a German 
shepherd, a full-size poodle, und a whole raft of smaller dogs. 

I was so unhappy about the thing with Bill that I could hardly think 
straight. I wanted to burst into tears. The only reason I didn't let myself 
was that I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself. 

After the time the dog's owners had paid for was up, I dropped the animals 
off one by one. When I was down to two, a chihuahua named Senor Gomez and a 
poodle named Saint-Estephe (his owner's a wine nut), I had to go by my 
apartment building to get to where they lived. 

Senor Gomez is a spunky little dog, but of course he has to work pretty hard 
to keep up with the others, since he's so little. I saw that his tongue was 
hanging out, and he looked pretty wilted. I could guess that he would really 
like a drink of water. 

There wasn't a puddle in sight that he could drink from, so I thought that I 
would take him up to my place. I had a bit of time to kill anyway, since his 
owner had told me that she would be back a little late today, and obviously 
I couldn't just leave the little fellow tied to the doorknob of her 
apartment, shitting all over the expensive hall carpet. 

He drank the water thirstily, and Saint-Estephe was pretty glad to get some 
too, though he's so arrogant a dog that he certainly would never dream of 
being grateful for a favor. 

"Men!" I said, thinking about my two-timing boyfriend. "They think they're 
such hot shits, just cause they have cocks. Well, there are plenty of cocks 
in the world, Bill!" 

In fact, the two dogs were both male, I noticed. 

"I bet these dogs are better cocksmen than you are, you turd," I said, still 
mentally addressing Bill. 

Senor Gomez was standing on the kitchen counter, where I had put the water 
dish, and I was petting him. There's something nice about Chihuahuas, with 
their smooth coats and their little, delicate bodies. 

After making that remark about how I imagined that the dogs were better with 
their cocks than Bill was, I suddenly reached out and started to fondle the 
little dog's cock. I don't for the life of me know why I did it. It was 
really a sudden inspiration. But be that as it may, it was something that 
Senor Gomez obviously liked. He gave a little yap of pleasure, and I could 
feel his little prick slide out of its sheath. 

Little is the operative word, too. After all, Chihuahuas are very tiny dogs, 
and everything is scaled accordingly. I was curious about his prick, and as 
I stared at it, I felt a bit like Gulliver with the Lilliputians. 

"I wonder what the size of the other one's is," I said to myself. Somehow, 
the idea of comparing the two penises for size struck me as very funny. Sort 
of like the way they measure women's tits for beauty contests, only in 
reverse. 

I felt quite excited sexually during all this, but I didn't yet have any 
clear idea that I was going to do anything like have sex with the dogs. 

I picked Saint-Estephe up and put him on the counter next to Senor Gomez. He 
took quite a bit of picking, since full-sized poodles are big dogs, but I 
was helped by the fact that he's really lazy, and didn't put up any kind of 
a fuss. It was definitely a two-handed job, nevertheless. 

I rubbed his prick sheath, and of course, the thing came sliding out into 
the open. I laughed as I noticed how much bigger it was than Senor Gomez's. 

The whole nutty game I had gotten into really fascinated me. Now that I 
could compare the size of the two pricks (and now that I had two very 
excited dogs on my hands) I was starting to wonder just how much sperm there 
was in the balls of each one. Would it be proportional to the varying size 
of their pricks? 

There was only one way to find out. I reached one hand out and started to 
play with Senor Gomez's cock, while the other one began to fondle 
Saint-Estephe's meat. By this time, my clit was really hard, and my panties 
were soaking wet. I guess the real reason that I was doing all this was 
because I had gotten incredibly turned on by the sight of those two hard 
dicks, even though one of them was pretty small. But I hadn't admitted to 
myself yet that that was the reason. 

As I worked the two dog-pricks with my hands, I sort of regretted that I 
didn't have a third hand with which I could take care of my cunt. Well, 
after I was finished with the two dogs, I knew just exactly the kind of 
attention that my twat was going to receive. 

I wanted to see if I could get the two dogs to come at about the same time. 
Since I had beaten Bill off on various occasions, and also knew what his 
cock felt like when it went off in my cunt, I was able to easily "read" the 
two dogs in the sense of judging from their state of stiffness and from the 
sound of the animals' breathing just how close to their comes they were. 

It was sort of odd having such disparate pricks in my hands. The big 
poodle's must have been at least five times the size of Senor Gomez's. 

Back-forth-back-forth.... I rubbed and stroked the cocks with a fast, steady 
motion. 

I could tell that the little dog was just about to come, so I eased up on 
his rod a bit, in order to give Saint-Estephe a chance to catch up. 

When I was sure that the poodle was about to come, I stepped up the effort I 
was expending on the Chihuahua's cock. 

Suddenly, I felt Saint-Estephe's cock quiver and tremble with the force of 
its come, as gob after gob of sperm shot out onto the kitchen counter and 
onto my hand. 

Senor Gomez wasn't far behind in sending his wad shooting out of his 
diminutive little dork. For such a little dog, he had quite a lot of sperm. 
In fact, I would say that proportionally he had more of the stuff than the 
poodle did. 

As soon as the dogs had stopped, I pulled down my jeans and placed my right 
hand on my crotch. The other hand went straight to my tits. I was so 
steaming hot that I couldn't wait another second, couldn't wait long enough 
to get into the bedroom or even to get down on the kitchen floor. I was 
going to beat off right then and there, standing with my back against the 
refrigerator. 

One advantage of the position I was in was that I could still look at the 
dogs. Their penises were sliding back into their sheaths, but there were 
still long threads of spunk hanging from the tips of them, and I could see 
the pools of spunk there on the counter. 

I pressed my fingers hard against my labia, while working the thumb up into 
my hole, where I pushed it against now one side of my twat, now the other. 
Then, while I pulled on my nipple with the other hand, I started to rub my 
thumb against my clit, after pulling the thumb out of my vagina. 

For a moment it seemed as if my mind was going blank, and then suddenly my 
come just burst inside me like a landmine going off. 

Wham! Wham! Wham! My pelvis bucked and heaved frantically, and I kept my 
hand glued to it frantically, despite the fact that my twat was now so 
sensitive that it could hardly bear to be touched. 

Even as my cunt seemed to go up like an ammunition dump, I continued to rub 
my thumb against my agonized clit. 

"Coming! Coming! Coming!" I gasped. 

And then ... that ... was ... it.... 

The orgasm had been so powerful that I almost had to blink for a moment to 
remember where I was. Yes, this was my parents' kitchen, and these were a 
couple of dogs that I had to get back to their owners. Maybe because I 
didn't want to think about the implications of the act I had just engaged in 
with them, I concentrated my thoughts on how I had better hurry if I didn't 
want to return the dogs late. 

I pulled my jeans back on, and led the dogs to the elevator. From there, it 
wasn't all that far to the owners' apartments. 

"My, Saint-Estephe seems tired," his mistress said. "I suppose you must have 
given him a good workout" 

"Oh yes," I said. "I like to earn my pay." 

"I hope he's not too tired out." 

"Oh, it's good for dogs to get plenty of exercise. Especially city dogs." 

"Yes, I've heard that that's so," the old lady agreed. 

On the way back to my apartment, though I didn't have anything to occupy my 
mind, and I couldn't help thinking about how I had just beaten off two dogs, 
and gotten thoroughly excited in the process. 

On one hand, it seemed more than a little bit sick. But then, there was 
something very satisfying about it too. I mean, the dice really are loaded 
against us females. Here Bill, this boy whom I'd really trusted and all, had 
simply decided to two-time me and had gone out and done so. It's so easy for 
guys. They're the ones who get to take the initiative and call all the 
shots. But this time, I was the one who had called the shots, I was the one 
who had decided that I was going to make the dogs come, and having made that 
original decision, I was also the person who had determined the exact moment 
that they would be coming. I had thought that it would be interesting to see 
if I could get them off simultaneously, so I had gotten them off 
simultaneously. 

Besides, it wasn't as if I had actually fucked with them or anything. It was 
all just a harmless game. Or so I told myself. 

The way it worked out, though, the next day, when I was bringing 
Saint-Estephe and Senor Gomez back from the walk, the two of them started to 
get quite agitated as we passed by my apartment building. They obviously 
remembered the good times that they had had the day before here, and wanted 
more of the same. 

"C'mon, don't be difficult," I said, pulling on the big poodle's leash to 
try and keep him from going into the lobby. "You shouldn't be pestering me 
now, just because I decided to be extra nice to you once before." 

But the more the dog whined and whimpered and pulled on his leash (Senor 
Gomez was doing the same sorts of things, but of course they're less 
noticeable done by a chihuahua), the more I was tempted to reconsider my 
refusal. After all, I had had a good time with the two dogs the day before, 
and there wasn't any reason that I shouldn't be able to have a good time 
with them today, too. My parents wouldn't be back for a long time, so I 
didn't have to worry about that. There was no getting around the fact that 
the beat-off I had given myself after feeling the dogs to a come was the 
best hand-job I had ever given myself in my life. I'm a pretty horny girl, 
like I told you, Doctor, and now that I'd broken up with that rat Billy, I 
was starting to get pretty frustrated. 

"Okay," I said to the two dogs, "but don't count on this every day." Of 
course, I really knew that the more I cooperated with them on this, the 
more-likely they were to kick up a fuss when I tried to cool it with them. 

This time, I took them into the living room. It was more comfortable for me 
to sit on the floor there, than in the kitchen, with its linoleum. And I 
didn't feature hauling that big, overfed poodle up onto the counter again. 

I reached out and took hold of Senor Gomez's prick and started to feel it. 
This time, I had decided, I was going to go at one dog at a time, so that I 
wouldn't have to wait to get some action myself, but would be able to beat 
myself off while enjoying the dog's prick. 

As I felt up the little cock, I thought that maybe I could try something 
else this time. I've always been fairly adventurous when it comes to sex, 
and since I seemed to be into this sex-with-animals bag for the time being, 
I thought that I might as well branch out a little. 

There was something sort of cute about the Chihuahua's little cock, anyway. 
Something that that made it seem to just cry out to be kissed. 

I picked the little dog up and held him right next to my face. Then, I put 
my mouth around his penis. Since the penis was so small, I in fact put my 
mouth around everything-prick, prick-sheath and balls-and sucked on them all 
at once. I still had plenty of room in my mouth to maneuver my tongue, so 
that meant that I could give special attention to the penis itself. 

The chihuahua was being very good and holding himself very still, so I was 
able to just rest his paws on my collar-bone and hold him with one hand, 
while the other hand got busy downstairs. 

My clit was already hurting it was so hard and excited, and when I put my 
fingers down against my labia, they literally slipped around a bit on the 
pussy-juices, I had lubricated up so much. 

In addition to my own breathing and the short little gasps of the Chihuahua, 
I heard some heavier breathing. That had to be Saint-Estphe. Because the 
other dog was in my line of sight, I couldn't see what the poodle was doing, 
but I guessed that the reason he was breathing heavily was that he was 
watching the action and wondering if he was going to be cut in on it soon. 
Well, if he'd just be patient, he'd find that he didn't have a thing in the 
world to worry about on that score. 

Suck! Suck! Suck! I was really pulling away with my lips at the base of 
Senor Gomez's balls, while flicking the shaft of his cock with my tongue. I 
was giving particular emphasis with the tongue to the very tip of his rod. I 
knew from my experiences with Bill that guys are extremely sensitive there, 
and it seemed that the same was true with male dogs. 

I was playing a real teasing game with my cunt. I was trailing my fingers 
very lightly back and forth across my labia, bringing them circling in 
towards my frantic clit, sometimes, but never, or only very rarely, actually 
touching it. The result was that the thing got more and more keyed up with 
every second that went by. I knew that when I wanted to, I would be able to 
bring myself off almost instantly by just applying a bit of pressure to my 
clit. 

To keep my vagina happy, I was working my thumb around inside it, pressing 
the thumb against the tender cunt-walls and particularly, right at the 
entrance to the vagina. 

I was already moving my hips rhythmically as I got more and more excited. 
This wasn't quite as good as having a big hard dork up my cunt, but it was 
damn close. 

I could tell from the way the little Chihuahua was trembling in my hand that 
he was almost at the point of his come. Just a bit more attention was all 
that would be needed. 

Flick! Flick! Flick! I brushed the tip of his rod with my tongue. I felt the 
tiny cock give a final little stiffening, and at that moment, I pressed my 
fingers against my clit. 

Bingo! That touch was all that my eager fun-button required after all these 
tantalizing minutes. At the very instant that Senor Gomez's cock started to 
fire, I felt my hips buck and heave to the force of my come. 

The little dog was sort of jiggled about by me as I writhed in ecstasy, but 
I had a good grip on him, and his penis felt too good for him to mind 
anything at the moment. 

Squirt! Squirt! Squirt! His cock didn't have very much stuff to shoot, of 
course, and each gob was pretty small, but he kept on going for quite a 
while, surprisingly enough. 

Chihuahuas are rather quavery little dogs, and after we were finished and I 
had taken him off my face, he was literally trembling with the excitement of 
the experience he had been through. That he had thoroughly enjoyed it, 
however, was perfectly apparent from the eager way in which he licked my 
hand. 

I gulped down his spunk-there wasn't all that much to gulp, but swallowing 
it was nice anyway-and then turned my attention to the big poodle that was 
standing nearby. 

Saint-Estephe had a massive hard-on, and it was obvious that if I didn't 
want to regard myself as cruel, I would have to take care of it right away. 
Previously, I thought in terms of having him maybe licking my cunt or 
something. But he needed relief right away, and there was no point in my 
being selfish and pretending that anything else was the case. 

There were three ways I could take care of his prick: I could give him a 
hand-job, I could blow him, or I could let him fuck me. 

The first option seemed pretty tame and old-hat, seeing as we had done that 
the day before. As for blowing him, although it would be interesting perhaps 
to make a direct comparison that way between his prick and Senor Gomez's, it 
was really my cunt, not my mouth, that needed attention. 

Oh, it was true that I had beaten myself while blowing the Chihuahua, but 
I'm a pretty multi-orgasmic female, and besides, having one come given by 
hand like that just made me all the more eager for a real come, that's to 
say, one caused by the feel of good, hard dick slamming back and forth 
inside my twat. 

So, any moral scruples or doubts that I might have had about the idea of 
letting a dog stick his penis inside me were just washed away by my cunt's 
fast-mounting passion. I was going to fuck with the poodle, and that was 
that. 

I got onto my hands and knees and presented my cunt to him. I guess 
necessity is the mother of invention, or maybe old Mrs. Farrel who owns him 
has a special use for him, because he didn't hesitate a second. Once he saw 
that twat of mine, he knew just exactly what it was that I expected him to 
do. 

I felt him put his paws on my ass, then on my back, and finally almost up on 
my shoulders as he moved in. 

His cock poked at my cunt, then found the hole and slid in without any 
difficulty. 

Then, he started to slide it back and forth like he'd been doing this all 
his life. I had no way of really knowing if he had had any other experiences 
with women, but at least with bitches he must cut quite a figure. Although 
there was a certain jerky quality to his fucking, I could tell that that was 
just something about him being a dog. Don't ask me how I knew, seeing as I 
had never had sex with another dog. But somehow I did. There was something 
assured and confident about his fuck too, and I could tell that if there are 
ladies' men, there are bitches' dogs. 

In-out-in-out-in-out. Man, did that ever feel good! 

"If dogs are this great, I may never have to put up with another turd like 
Bill again in my whole life," I thought as I felt the rod slide back and 
forth against the inside of my cunt, fell it pull my labia against my 
tingling clit with every thrust. 

I had my right hand on my hanging tits and was pressing and squeezing them 
in time to his thrusts. My body was swaying in time to his thrusts, too. We 
were in perfect harmony. 

Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck. Always that steady, even slamming back-and-forth of his 
penis. This dog was just driving me straight out of my ever-loving mind. 

Fuck me harder! Harder! Harder!" I groaned. In fact, there's no earthly way 
that any prick, canine or human, could have possibly fucked harder or better 
than Saint-Estephe was doing at just that moment. 

Then, all of sudden, I felt my cunt clutch at his rod. It was an 
involuntary, unconscious action, and I'm sure that I was as taken by 
surprise by it as the poodle was. I was coming! 

As my cunt gripped at his cock, and my hips started to heave with 
excitement, I felt his rod start to quiver and unload into me. 

Splat! Splat! Splat! As I had noticed the day before, when I had masturbated 
the two dogs on the kitchen counter, the poodle certainly had a good deal 
more sperm than the tiny Chihuahua. In fact, Saint-Estephe had a seemingly 
limitless supply of the stuff, or so it seemed as he unloaded his balls into 
my cunt. 

Finally, he finished shooting, and pulled his rod on out. Even Billy, who 
was a pretty self-centered guy, would leave his rod in for a while after 
shooting his load, so that I could enjoy the feeling of it going soft inside 
me. But Saint-Estephe had had his fun, and that was that 

"Oh well," I thought, "I guess that I'd better get the dogs back home, 
anyway." 

That night, I really had a certain amount of trouble going to sleep. I mean, 
this sudden craving for dogs. had come upon me so suddenly. And that was 
what it was, too, a craving. I'd only be deceiving myself if I pretended 
that it was something different. Oh, I had tried to pretend that I was just 
being nice to the dogs, and so forth, but I knew in my heart that I was very 
anxious for tomorrow to come so that I could try some more canine sex. 

What bothered me most of all was the fact that I didn't find myself all that 
anxious to find a replacement for Bill. I had had regular boyfriend of some 
kind or the other since I was thirteen. But now that I had the dogs, I found 
myself not really all that interested in getting another one. 

The following day, I decided to try some different dogs. After all, it 
didn't seem fair that the same two should always get all the action. This 
time, I brought them all in from the park early and took them up to the 
apartment I couldn't fuck all of them, of course, and to keep the ones who 
weren't chosen from getting too excited, I put them into another room. The 
reason that I had brought all of them along was that the two I wanted to 
fuck with this time were among the first I had picked up, and therefore were 
supposed to be the first I dropped off at their owners. Otherwise, if I had 
waited until the time was up for all the other dogs, dropped them off, come 
back to the apartment, fucked my chosen partners, and then taken them home, 
their owners might wonder where I had been, seeing as they lived quite a 
distance from where I did, and it would take a while to get there after I 
was done with the dogs. 

This time, I had chosen a husky named Kayak and a St. Bernard named 
Three-Star, I guess after the three stars that go on some kinds of brandy. 

A St. Bernard is a really big dog, of course, but I figured, or rather 
hoped, that his cock wouldn't be any bigger than a guy's cock. I planned to 
let Three-Star fuck me while I blew the husky. That would save time, of 
course, and besides, I figured that it would be kind of neat to take care of 
two dogs at once. 

I presented my cunt to the St. Bernard in the same way that I had to 
Saint-Estephe the day before, but Three-Star didn't seem to get the idea. Of 
course, that wasn't really too surprising. Saint-Estephe had already had the 
experience of being beaten off by me, and he had watched me suck Senor 
Gomez's dick. In other words, I had given him a good chance to figure out 
the fact that dogs and women can have some pretty good times together. But 
though he may have conceivably fucked female dogs, poor old Three-Star had 
never come across anything remotely resembling a sixteen-year old girl in 
the presentation position. 

"Well, dog," I said, "there's a first time for everything." 

I took hold of his forepaws to lift them up onto my ass. Of course, a St. 
Bernard is pretty heavy, but dogs seem to have a built-in tendency to go up 
on their hindquarters if you lift their paws. You've seen people do it a 
million times, I bet. So Three-Star did most of the work. As soon as his 
paws were resting on my ass, he sort of got the idea. I moved the paws a 
little farther up my back (that was a bit tricky, since there's a limit to 
how flexible your arms are). When they were half way up my back, the dog 
finally caught on and shuffled up closer to me. Maybe St. Bernards are dumb, 
since he still couldn't find my cunt. I reached behind myself and took hold 
of his rod, which was at least out of its sheath, and guided the tip of it 
into my cunt. 

At long last, Three-Star got the whole picture, and he shoved on in. His 
prick was very big, almost as big as a guy's, but of course, I wasn't about 
to complain about that. 

While all these rather tiresome preparations were going on with the Saint 
Bernard, Kayak, the husky, had kind of wandered off a bit. Fortunately, 
though, the end of his leash was still within reach, so I was able to bring 
him back. At last, and with the big St. Bernard already sliding his cock 
back and forth inside me, I was able to get Kayak positioned, and moved my 
head under his belly. 

His cock was still enclosed in its furry pouch, but a few kisses and licks 
on the latter object were able to take care of that problem in short order. 
As soon as the pink tip of the rod appeared, I started nibbling away on it 
with my lips, and of course that caused the rest of the penis to glide into 
my mouth almost at once. 

Now, at last, like someone who has had to go to a lot of trouble to draw a 
warm bath, but can at last relax in it, I was able to enjoy the sensation of 
having two dog-pricks in me at once: a St. Bernard's cock in my cunt, and a 
husky's in my mouth. 

Back! Forth! Back! Forth! The St. Bernard's thrusts were slower than the 
poodle's had been, but they were still quite different from a guy's, though. 
One thing about them was certain, though: they were very satisfying. 

Kayak's prick in my mouth was just about as nice. Super rigid, and judging 
from the size of the balls that were dangling in front of me,-likely to 
shoot plenty of spunk out into my mouth. 

I slid my mouth up and down the length of the penis a few times, and then, 
to vary the action, I took my mouth off of it for a second and sort of 
nibbled at the side of it with my lips like you might nibble at an ear of 
corn. 

I would have liked to use one of my hands to feel up my tits, or maybe 
fondle Kayak's balls a bit, but that was impossible. The St. Bernard was too 
.heavy for me to possibly be able to support myself on one hand now that he 
was resting on my back. 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Old Three-Star might have been a bit slow off the 
mark when it came to sizing up new sexual opportunities, but one thing was 
certain: once he got going, he was really something else. Those thrusts of 
his long, hard penis deep, deep into my cunt were as fine as any girl could 
possibly wish for. 

There was a sort of nervous quiver to Kayak's prick every time I sucked on 
it (I had my mouth back over the end of it, by this time), and that seemed 
to indicate that he wasn't far from his come at all. I stopped applying 
quite so much pressure, since I didn't want him to come before Three-Star 
and I did. 

Then, I felt the same kind of quivering in Three-Star's cock. I went full 
force on the husky's, and there was only about half a second between the 
first gob of dog-come that spattered against the back of my mouth and the 
first gob that the big St. Bernard sent gushing up into my innermost 
feminine recesses! 

The two dogs were blasting away like crazy, and I was right in the middle, a 
target to their wild, orgasmic frenzy. They were pumping and pumping and 
pumping, filling me up, and I was just loving it. My cunt shuddered with 
delight as my female tension unwound all at once, in a frantic come! Come! 
Come! 

As soon as he had finished, the St. Bernard pulled his rod out of me, just 
like Saint-Estephe had done. That obviously a canine trait. I sucked on 
Kayak's dick a while longer, then let it go. I got to my feet, with come in 
my cunt and come in my mouth. A lot of the dog cream from the St. Bernard 
dribbled down my thighs after I stood up, the animal had given me so much. I 
sloshed the husky's sperm around in my mouth a bit, then drank it down. 
Another session of dog-sex was finished, and it was time to take the mutts 
home. 

Whenever I finished one of these sessions I felt a bit let down, and sort of 
guilty, too, I suppose, but not tremendously. And like I said, the more I 
got into this dog-sex bit, the less interested I was in finding another 
boyfriend. 

There was one guy at school, though, who was pretty interested in me, and I 
finally decided to go out with him. I guess you know what going out means 
with teenagers nowadays. Well, I didn't have any objections. 

We went to a movie, and then ended up at my place. His parents were home, 
and mine were out for the evening. I couldn't help smiling as I looked at 
the floor and though how surprised and shocked Rick would be if I told him 
the things that I had been up to with dogs on that floor. 

He made his play, of course, and I don't want to give the idea that there 
was anything offensive about the way in which he did it. In fact, as he put 
his hands on my tits, I was reminded of Billy. Maybe that was what was 
wrong. Billy was not a very pleasant memory for me. 

He took my blouse and bra off, and started kissing my tits. He was good at 
it, just like Billy. Well, resentment against Billy or not, tit-kissing is 
always nice. I felt my clit stiffen up with excitement, and my nipples 
stiffened under the pressure of his lips. 

He had my panties off by now, and without more ado, slipped his cock into my 
vagina. I would have sort have liked to have some say in the matter, but I 
guess it wasn't unreasonable of him to suppose that I wanted his prick, 
seeing as I had let him take off my panties and fondle my tits. 

He had all the right moves, and soon I was moving my hips in little counter 
thrusts, and feeling my cunt clutch hungrily at his prick. Physically, this 
was all very nice, and I was beginning to think that maybe the preference 
for dogs that I had been feeling was just a passing phase, and a good fuck 
with this guy would straighten me out in that department. 

In ... out ... in ... out ... in ... out.... 

"You like it, baby?" he asked. Something in his tone of voice indicated that 
he couldn't imagine for a second that I might not like it, and I had to 
admit that being taken for granted like that sort of pissed me off. 

But that rod of his was doing its stuff down below my waist, and I was 
already gasping and panting for a come. 

Cock! Cunt! Cock! Cunt! 

Almost there ... almost. . . almost.... 

Then ... I ... was ... coming! 

The fuck-spasms raced through me one after another, and my hips bucked under 
him with excitement. My cunt clutched desperately at his penis, which shot 
its load up into me in good, hard strokes. 

I had come, and from a purely physical standpoint, it had been a good come. 
That was the problem. Emotionally, I felt really let down, almost abused, 
despite the fact that he hadn't done anything but give me pleasure---And 
though he's asked for dates since, I've always turned him down. I just know 
that I prefer to be with my dogs. But like I said at the beginning of the 
session, that seems so sort of odd to me that I thought I had better get 
some professional advice before I go off any farther on this tangent. 

There could be no doubt in my mind that Christine Y.'s experience with Billy 
had played an important part in turning her towards animal sex. What was not 
immediately clear, however, was whether the trauma involved stemmed 
essentially from the sense of being betrayed and abused that she felt on 
learning of his involvement with another girl, or whether it had simply 
served to trigger other feelings buried deep in the subconscious. 

I suspected the latter was the case, since although the knowledge that one 
is being two-timed is, of course, painful, most people are able to rise 
above it more successfully than Christine was. 

Subsequent interviews showed that I was right. What was involved was a 
latent fear of and hostility towards men. Christine's sexual orientation was 
certainly heterosexual, but various aspects of her personality made it 
difficult for her to feel comfortable with men as people, despite the fact 
that she craved the physical satisfaction that they could give her. It is 
not, therefore surprising that she turned to male dogs, which she could 
relate to on a purely physical level. 

Her basic problem with men was that she resented their dominance and 
control. In an age of women's liberation this is not strange, though in her 
case this resentment was allied to very strong (and very strongly repressed) 
Electra desires towards her father. 

When Bill two-timed her, his action confirmed her suspicions of men and 
increased her feelings of helplessness in regard to them. She had trusted 
Bill, at least on the level of surface consciousness, and his response had 
been to show that although she needed him, he certainly need her. 

The sexual involvement with the dogs was a sort of retort on her part. In 
that first incident, when she simultaneously manipulated the two dogs to 
orgasm, she was saying, among other things, "yours isn't the only penis in 
the world. See, I have two of them at once to play with." 

The fact that the penises belonged to dogs in fact made this "retort" even 
more satisfactory to her. "I have tow penises to play with, and the fact 
that they belong to dogs is unimportant, because penises are all a-like." 
That was her symbolic message. The male's (envied) organ is a dime a dozen, 
and isn't even really human in nature. 

One of the features of canine sex that most appealed to her was, of course, 
that when animals are your partners, you are completely in charge. Whereas 
Bill had literally made her beg for his penis, she selected at whim from 
among her stud of dogs, and decided how each one is to perform and how much 
pleasure each one is to have. The fact that she tried in fact to give the 
dogs a good time does not in any way alter the fact that for her, the most 
fundamental feature of the situation was her total and unquestioned control. 

Human emotions are nothing if not ambivalent, however, and it is interesting 
to note how, when she was receiving semen in the mouth and vagina 
simultaneously from two dogs, she enjoyed being the "target". And the very 
fact that she sought out therapy is an indication of how in some respects 
uncomfortable she is in her role of sexual dominance. 

It is interesting to compare her experience with Rick to that which Penny W. 
had with Greg. The latter girl, as the reader will remember, was actually 
frigid with the human partner she tried. Christine Y., on the other hand, 
was able to obtain physical satisfaction with Rick, but was left emotionally 
unsatisfied. One reason that she did not suffer the same sexual disability 
which struck Penny W. was precisely that she was inwardly less committed to 
the idea of a human sexual partner. Penny W.'s traumatic experience was the 
very act of bestiality, because of society's strong condemnation of it. The 
kind of sexual experience which she desired was one involving a boy. The 
trauma made her feel unworthy of the boy, and because she so wanted to move 
on to conventional sexual relations, her fear at possibly being unable to do 
so was much greater. Christine Y., on the other hand, had already 
experienced sex with a male of her own species, and had many reservations 
about it. Since the animal sex was a form of revenge, she felt little guilt 
about it, and since she was inwardly unsure as to what boy-girl sex could 
offer her, she was less anxious about the possibility of her not being able 
to successfully engage in it. When she had sex with Rick, her anxiety level 
was much lower than that of Penny W. when she was with Greg, and 
consequently the chances of success were very substantially higher. 

It was obvious that Christine Y. was not happy with her situation, however. 
As she said, it made her feel "sick", and from a long-term standpoint offer 
only limited satisfactions. As I pointed out to her, she did indeed have the 
option of continuing with things the way they were, and would doubtless 
continue to receive physical satisfaction from the dogs. But she would never 
be able to have the kind of emotional satisfaction that other females get 
from their dealings with men. Partly because an animal cannot relate to a 
human with anything like the subtlety that another human can, and partly 
because her own attitude towards the dogs was essentially negative. They 
were instruments for her pleasure and revenge. She had no real affection for 
them. They were just "mutts". 

She agreed, and decided to undergo long-term therapy, which ended up 
concentrating, as I have indicated, on the ambivalent feelings that she had 
for her father. Once these feelings were brought out into the open and 
resolved (a process of about three years) a great deal of her hostility 
towards men vanished. She was willing, to accept that they are not all like 
Bill, and succeeded in finding a nice boyfriend with whom she could relate 
successfully. Once she had done this, she found that dogs held little 
interest for her as sexual partners. 

CONCLUSION 

There are many insights which a sensitive and intelligent reader can draw 
from a collection of case histories. I shall only dwell, therefore, on what 
seem to me the most salient and important points to be gleaned from the 
accounts given by the five women who are the subjects of this book. 

First and foremost is the fact that bestiality, like all forms of so-called 
deviant behavior, is a very heterogeneous phenomenon. There is no one reason 
that women engage in sexual relations with animals. There is no one 
personality type that can be associated with an inclination towards this 
form of sexual activity. Cindy Mae of the first case was an essentially 
healthy individual. Christine Y. of the final case was a girl with 
deep-seated neurotic problems which long antedated her involvement with 
animal sex. And to one degree or another, important differences are to be 
found in the psychological makeup of all the females studied here. 

-likewise, there is no one specific motivating factor which leads to the 
first incident of sexual contact with an animal. If Cindy Mae was simply 
feeling sexually frustrated, Julie V. of the third case wished above all to 
get revenge on her mother, and Suzanne T. of the second case allowed a dog's 
penis into her vagina in order to please her boyfriend Bart. 

Does this mean that we err in using a term like "bestiality" at all? Is it a 
term which imposes a wholly false unity in our minds on a subject marked by 
the utmost diversity? I would say no. 

Although the various cases show marked differences, there are important 
similarities, too. Of these, the most important is physical desire. All of 
the girls in question were made more receptive to the idea of animal sex by 
the fact that they were in a state of sexual excitation.-likewise, all of 
them received physical satisfaction from the animal, though this 
satisfaction was in many cases followed almost immediately by strong 
feelings of guilt. 

While the amount of guilt felt varied greatly, it is noteworthy that it was 
present to some degree in all the cases except that of farm-girl Cindy Mae 
of the first case. It was absent in her case because rural cultural patterns 
have always emphasized a much freer acceptance of sexual desire than have 
urban ones. 

In all cases where there was some kind of pathological element present, the 
bestiality was secondary and symptomatic, rather than primary and causal. 
The girl wanted to get revenge because of feelings of insecurity. Or of 
hostility towards men. Or she had a pathological need to subordinate her 
desires to those of her boyfriend. In the particular circumstances each girl 
was in, this led to bestiality. But in somewhat different circumstances, 
quite different forms of behavior would have resulted. What if Suzanne T.'s 
boyfriend had had a hang-up about, say, leather instead of girls and dogs? 
What if Julie V. had been presented with another, different way of getting 
revenge on her mother? What if Christine Y. had not decided some time 
previously to earn money walking dogs? The pathological elements in the 
personalities would have still been present, but the symptoms would have 
been quite different. 

This point is extremely important, because the therapist must treat the 
underlying psychological problem rather than its mere manifestations if he 
wishes to succeed. Otherwise, if the symptoms are simply repressed (which is 
all that can be done with symptoms qua symptoms), the underlying malady will 
simply manifest itself in another, equally destructive way. 

Certain individual such as Cindy Mae engage in bestiality for reasons that 
are non-pathological in nature, and thus are not within the scope of a 
psychologist's duties. But the therapist should always be on the lookout for 
symptoms of real emotional disturbance, because these are almost always 
inimical to the patient's happiness. One does not treat bestiality because 
it is "wrong". One treats whatever prevents the patient from fulfilling 
herself, and bestiality is often a good clue to this. Having sex with dogs 
was not making Christine Y. unhappy. But hating men prevented her from 
hoping for a fully satisfying emotional life, and it was through her sex 
with dogs that this hatred was made manifest. I acted accordingly, both in 
recommending that she undergo therapy, and in deciding just what form the 
therapy should take. 

Thus, women who engage in sex with animals are not some special breed of 
strange and perverse individuals. Rather, they are people just like anyone 
else, who, like most other people, often have emotional problems. The fact 
that their symptoms violate an ancient taboo invalidates neither their need 
for help, nor their right to our understanding and compassion. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Berne, Eric, Sin Human Loving, N.Y., 1970 

Bier, Francis, The Adolescent, his Search for Understanding, N.Y., 1963. 

Bonaparte, Marie, Female Sexuality, N.Y., 1953 (trans.) 

Deutsch, Helen, M.D., The Psychology of Women, N.Y., 1949 

Fleming, Charlotte, M.D., Adolescence, its Social Psychology, London, 1948 

Freud, Sigmund, Totem and Taboo, N.Y., 1932 (trans.) 

Freud, Sigmund, Civilization and its Discontaits, N.Y., 1930 (trans.) Freud, 
Sigmund, The Interpretation of Dreams, N.Y., 1965 (trans.) Horney, Karen, 
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 F(-male, Philadelphia, 1953 

Konopka, G., The Adolescent Girl in Conflict, Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1966 

Krafft-Ebing, Freiherr Richard von, I'sycho-pathia Sexnalis, 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 hi the Female, N.Y., 1957 

May, Rollo, Love and Will, N.Y., 1969 

Piaget, Jean, and Inhelder, Barbel, The Psychology of the Child, N.Y., 1969 
(trans.) 

Stekel, Wilhelm, Peculiarities of Behavior, N.Y., 1941 

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

Weinberg, Martinis., Deviance, the Inteyactiou-ist Perspective, N.Y., 1969 

Note: because the topic of woman-animal sex has been so largely neglected by 
researchers, and because to understand a specific form of female sexual 
deviance it is necessary to have a broad understanding of both feminine 
psychology and the dynamics of deviant behavior, books have been included in 
the bibliography which deal with the latter two topics rather than the 
phenomenon of bestiality as such. 


THE END
