Pets For Passion
[aka 'Beast Humping']
by Herb Bennett


INTRODUCTION 

"Bestiality-violation of animals-monstrous and revolting to mankind." 
Krafft-Ebing used these words to introduce the subject of sex between humans 
and animals in his monumental nineteenth century study of perverse 
sexuality, Psychopathia Sexualus. The public attitude toward many deviant 
sex practices has eased since those harsh Victorian times but the very idea 
of bestiality seems as "monstrous and revolting" as ever to most people 
today. 

The old testament, source of most of our basic behavorial taboos, is clear 
on the subject. In Leviticus 18:23 the Lord lays down the law to Moses, 
Neither shalt thou lie with any beast to defile thyself therewith; Neither 
shall any woman stand before a beast to lie down thereto; it is confusion. 

The Bible not only forbade bestiality but prescribed stern penalties both 
for the human and the animal participants, each apparently being presumed 
equally guilty in the affair. Thus Leviticus tells us, If a man lie icith a 
beast, he shall surely be put to death: and ye shall slay the beast. 

In the Middle Ages in Europe surviving court records show that the Biblical 
penalties were carried out to the letter. In France one man was hanged and 
then burned for fornicating with a cow and a goat, and then both animals 
were also burned. Two centuries later, a sixteen-year-old girl was found 
guilty of having had sexual relations with a dog, and both dog and girl were 
hanged and burned. 

Most states today have no law on their books specifically forbidding 
bestiality, but it is usually considered to fall under the category of 
sodomy offenses, which include everything from sucking a twat to screwing a 
turkey-from buggering your wife's rectum to fucking a corpse on a morgue 
slab-from jerking off in company with a friend to having your cunt licked by 
a cocker spaniel. It's all sodomy in the eyes of the law, although the 
sodomy statutes are seldom enforced these days except against homosexuals. 

In the Middle Ages, when penalties against it were the most severe, all the 
evidence indicates that bestiality as an adjunct to witchcraft revelries and 
as a casual barnyard pastime ran a neck-and-neck race with incest as the 
favorite sport among the peasantry. 

In the prim and proper nineteenth century, Krafft-Ebing regretfully reported 
that violation of animals was "none too infrequent," and in the modern day 
Doctor Kinsey's more extensive and enlightened research discovered that 
forty to fifty percent of farm boys he interviewed had had some kind of sex 
relations with animals at one time or another in their young lives. 

A good indication of the way bestial sex has obsessed man's imagine through 
all the ages is the frequency with which it turns up in popular literature 
and mythology. The ancient myths and fairy tales are full of creatures 
half-human and half-beast such as centaurs, sphinxes and mermaids, and human 
and animal love affairs wherein the beast usually is a god or a prince 
temporarily transformed. 

In our own time we continue to thrill over popular entertainments wherein 
bestiality is suggested if not specifically portrayed. Jungle adventures in 
which young lovelies are carried off by giant apes, presumably to satisfy 
their bestial lust, have always been popular with matinee audiences. 

As many writers including Freud have suggested, where bestiality has 
persisted so in men's fantasies, there certainly must have been widespread 
practice of the actual deed, for men's dreams are reflective of their 
real-life desires. 

In the free-and-easy climate of today, bestiality is not only as common a 
pastime as ever, but many of those who practice it are quite willing to 
spill their guts about it for publication without shame or fear. There is a 
spirit of adventure in the practice of sex today-a reaching out for new 
sensual experiences of every kind-and an unabashed readiness to share the 
fruits of those experiments and spread the joyful word to the hesitant, 
still-puritanical masses. So I had surprisingly little difficulty in finding 
a variety of persons of all ages and both sexes who quite willingly "told 
all" about their bestial habits for this book. I have compiled from the 
resulting taped conversations the case reports in the following pages. Only 
the names and places have been disguised in some instances, in light of the 
sodomy laws, but the broad picture these cases give of bestiality as it is 
practiced in our twentieth century world is a true one. 


CHAPTER ONE 

In the course of history, bestial practices have been not only a private 
pastime but in various places and times have played a part in religious 
rituals, witchcraft rites, and public spectacles for the titillation of the 
masses. 

It is hardly surprising that the ancient Romans who made an arena spectacle 
out of everything from costume dramas to gladiatorial warfare found sadistic 
delight in bestial sex exhibitions on the grand scale. An amazing variety of 
animals were trained to perform sexually in the arena, most often committing 
rape on helpless, spread-eagled young maidens. Zebras, cheetahs, even 
giraffes reportedly were involved in this kind of bizarre sport. 

According to R.E.L. Masters, the diligent sex-researcher and writer, on one 
infamous occasion in the Colosseum a hundred golden-haired young girls were 
raped in unison by a hundred rampaging baboons, a girl-show spectacular 
beyond anything ever dreamed of by Busby Berkeley. 

On other occasions, to add an extra zest to the performance, wild apes would 
not only rape the unfortunate girls but devour their bodies afterwards for 
an encore. 

Since those pagan times bestial sex-shows have never again reached such 
heights of production lavishness or played to such arena-sized audiences. In 
recent centuries and down to the present day virtually the only public 
performances of the kind have been whorehouse exhibitions, usually involving 
a prostitute and either a large dog or a small horse. 

Krafft-Ebing noted such anexhibitiona hundred years ago, an "example of the 
moral depravity in large cities," in which "a Parisian female showed herself 
in the sexual act with a trained bulldog to a secret circle of roues at ten 
francs a head." 

Since the old-fashioned garden-variety whorehouse has become practically 
extinct in this country, generally one must travel abroad to find such 
performances today. A few countries of 

Latin America, Asia and the Arab lands still offer these usually pitiful 
spectacles as underground tourist attractions. 

A New York executive who has spent much time in the Caribbean islands where 
his firm does a great deal of business tells about an experience of the kind 
in pre-Castro Cuba. 



Case l 

Ben P. 

Before the revolution down there, Cuba was really the place to go, I'm 
telling you. It was murder trying to get any business done is the only 
thing, with all the distractions-whorehouses on every street, blue movies, 
orgy exhibitions-you name it and you could find it. You didn't have to do 
any shopping around either. All you had to do was walk out on any street. 
They'd spot you for an American right off and there'd be a dozen pimps after 
you, trying to sell you every kind of sex experience that man ever invented. 
You couldn't help get the impression that every broad in Havana was peddling 
her ass and every guy was pimping for them. 

The "exhibitions" were the big thing. First thing they'd mention to you. 
"Superman" was the big star. He was a big black bugger with a cock like a 
baseball bat, and he put on shows in one of the houses there. He'd take on 
about four or five of the girls at once and they'd play the scene for you 
any way you ordered it. If you wanted to, you could strip down and join the 
show yourself. They'd do their thing in a private performance just for you, 
or for a whole party of ten or twenty tourists. How Superman kept that prick 
of his up all day is beyond me. Must've had a steel rod planted in it. Or 
maybe there were three or four different "Supermen" working in shifts for 
all I know. 

Anyway, I'd been there a few times and seen and done just about everything 
there was in that goddam sex-town, and one hot day in December I landed in 
Havana with some business to attend to, figuring I'd finish it up in an hour 
or two and hop back to Miami that same night. No hanky-panky this trip I 
promised myself. In fact I had a redhead date all lined up for myself in 
Miami that would put all these fat-ass Cuban whores to shame. I figured she 
and I would have a little private exhibition all our own that night in front 
of the picture mirror in her apartment. 

But of course I had the usual pimp parade on me like leeches as soon as I 
got downtown from the airport, giving me all the usual pitches, and they 
didn't like to take no for an answer. 

It wound up finally with just this one determined cat dogging my tracks, 
still trying to sell me some kind of cock therapy. He'd already run through 
the whole catalogue of goodies for me about twelve times. "You want the 
woman? Big tits woman? Young girl? Very young! Teen-age schoolgirl for you. 
She do everything you like. Two young girls-all for you. Two together. They 
come with you. Your hotel. Maybe young boy? You like the young boy? You say 
what you like. I fix for you. See the exhibition? Two girls? Three girls? 
Four? Five?" 

Then he got into something that sounded like "done-kee-the done-kee." I 
didn't get the meaning at first, but then I realized all of a sudden that he 
was pitching for a girl making it with a goddam donkey. This was a brand new 
one on me. I'd heard there were such things that went on but I'd never been 
steered onto it before. All of a sudden I was interested. It was something 
people talk about but you don't get to see every day in the week and I was 
really curious. That woman with a donkey shit-you don't half believe it 
really happens, you know? I doubted that, there were two guys in the whole 
of Philadelphia that could say they'd ever seen it, and here was my chance 
to be the first in my neighborhood. 

At first I thought maybe it was just a movie show this guy was talking 
about, but he said, "No-o-o-real alive done-kee-fuck pretty young girl for 
you." 

I cooled down a little when he told me it was going to cost me fifty Cuban 
pesos, which translates into exactly fifty U.S. dollars. That was the tab 
for a private performance-just for me, the girl and the donkey-but if I 
didn't mind sharing the spiritual experience, I could wait until night and 
there'd be a group showing for a crowd of tourists at ten dollars a head 
admission. Well shit, I couldn't pass that up. So I told him to put me down 
for a reservation, kissed off my date in Miami and checked into a hotel to 
wait out the time. 

My friendly guide came to pick me up in a cab at seven-thirty and we drove 
down to the Chinatown section-the driver blasting his horn at every 
intersection the way they do. We pulled up at a seedy-looking old mansion on 
a dark street-had a huge front door about ten feet tall with an ornate 
grillwork all over it-real old Spanish style. 

I gave five to the madame right away to get her off my back and turned a 
deaf ear to the swarm of young chicks that swooped down on me next, pressing 
their tits into me and grabbing at my pants the way they always did. The 
smart 

The madame and my guide shooed the girls off me finally and we went inside 
through about six layers of draperies and came to a big square room with a 
round bed in the middle and the usual mirrors all over the walls and 
ceiling. There were about ten or twelve guys sitting around the 
bed-stateside tourist types. One of them even had brought his wife along 
with him. 

The show had already started, but I hadn't missed anything. This was only a 
preliminary act-warm-up for the main event. Two naked girls were going at it 
on the red satin bedspread, one of them fucking the other man-style with a 
huge artificial prick fastened onto her lower belly by straps. I'd seen this 
kind of shit before and it didn't do a hell of a lot for me. The room 
temperature was about a hundred-and-nine degrees-they didn't have 
air-conditioning in the brothels in those days-and the tourists were all 
panting and sweating beads with the heat and the excitement. I pulled up a 
chair in the second row, away from all those steaming bodies. I figured I'd 
save my sweat for the donkey act. 

Meanwhile the artificial cock was pounding in and out and the fat little 
broad that was getting it was thrashing all over the bedspread, pretending 
to have fantastic orgasms. I got more fun though out of watching the 
tourist's wife, who was sweating worse than any of the men and looked very 
uncomfortable. She kept one hand up to her face at all times as if she was 
afraid somebody from back home was going to walk in all of a sudden and 
recognize her. 

The girls quit their dildo fuck abruptly and broke off connections to move 
into a new position, but just then the madame popped in clapping her hands 
and sang out, "End of act one," or Spanish words to that effect. Four or 
five more girls had come in with her, some naked and some in g-strings, and 
they all climbed up onto the bed and struck leering poses, jiggling their 
boobs and grinding their hips for our benefit, and the two broads that had 
been performing got up and joined them. 

Now it was up to us to decide which one of the girls we wanted to see 
getting her well plugged by the donkey. I voted for a slim little giggly 
chick with pointy, springy tits and a cute ass, figuring she'd give us a 
good lively show, but most of the tourists voted for a phony blonde with a 
big-eyed baby-face and a pair of boobs like Sophia Loren. It figured. 

Then the other chicks all disappeared, we pulled our chairs back, and a 
couple of black Samsons came in and carried the bed away. At that point I 
was wondering how in the hell they were going to set the thing up. Getting a 
donkey's cock into a girl has to be some kind of a contortion, I figured, 
for the donkey and the girl both. There had to be some kind of apparatus. 

Sure enough, they wheeled in a wooden platform and I began to see how they 
would manage it. The girl apparently would lie on top of the thing on her 
belly with her legs hanging down in back, spread wide, with her feet in 
stirrups and her pussy trough wide-open from the ass-end. And there were 
raised-up shelves on both sides of the contraption where the donkey could 
rest his front legs when he reared up into position. 

But the girl-I think they said her name was Felicia-didn't climb onto her 
perch right away. She was circulating around among the crowd making friends, 
thanking all the boys individually for picking her to fuck the donkey, and 
showing her gratitude with big slurpy tongue-licking kisses and by letting 
everybody play bouncy squeezy with her fantastic boobs. 

When she came by me I passed up the titty feels and ran a handful of fingers 
up between her legs into her big slimy snatch, which is where I live, baby. 
I could tell she had a donkey-size cunt all right. Wow! She opened her legs 
for me and let me get my whole hand up inside her and then she clamped her 
thighs shut and did a fast wiggle, twisting her snatch around my fist, and 
at the same time she leaned forward and pressed her big flabby boobs into my 
face. Whoosh! 

She had a real gamy, unwashed stink about her, but it was the raw, basic 
smell of a woman and that turns me on more than any phony perfume of dainty 
deodorant. That's one thing I always liked about those old-fashioned Latin 
whores-they stank like a woman is supposed to stink. That's something we've 
lost in this super-antiseptic age-the sensual value of human body-smells. 

Anyway, speaking of smells, they brought in the donkey just then and he sure 
stank like he was supposed to all right. He was a little squatty, 
stump-legged bugger. Must've been half burro. His cock was still limp, but 
Felicia soon took care of that. She started off stroking his neck and 
patting his nose and then she pressed one of her big boobies to his mouth 
and rubbed it around and damned if that donkey didn't start in licking 
around the nipple with his big old tongue. She must've had honey smeared on 
it or something. Anyway that gave us all a good laugh. 

After a little of that she ducked down underneath his belly and started 
teasing his prick with her fingers. The donkey shuffled his hooves around 
and blew out a noseful. She was beginning to get to him. Then Felicia lifted 
her head up with her tongue snaking out, and damn if she didn't start in 
licking the shit out of that old donkey dick. It was the goddamndest thing 
to watch you ever saw. I heard a big gasp from the tourist broad. She 
probably didn't believe women did this nasty thing to men's pricks, let 
alone to donkeys. It sure was a sight all right, seeing that black dong 
swelling and stretching out like somebody blowing up a balloon. It must've 
wound up at least a foot long at its full extension and she was slobbering 
over it like crazy, licking it all up and down its length and letting the 
ugly old thing slide way down her throat and then easing it out again. 

Finally she had that bugger so hot and horny he was tossing his head and 
tail around and stamping his front feet and quivering his withers-he looked 
like he was going to" explode any second. She jumped up then and the two 
attendants ran out and grabbed the donkey or else he would've climbed right 
up on her then and there before she could get in position. He was kicking 
around and snorting to beat hell. Felicia climbed onto the platform and got 
set and then she yelled she was ready, and the guys led the donkey in behind 
her and let him rear up. Then they ducked out of the way in a hurry. From 
there on that fucking donkey didn't need any help from anyone-he knew what 
to do. He lunged right in against the girl's ass, his big belly up over her 
back and his long prong bobbing behind her. It looked like he was going to 
crush the shit out of her, but with his front legs set in the tracks on each 
side of her I guess his weight didn't come down on top of her the way it 
looked. But his prick was wanging the hell out of her rear end, bumping and 
butting at it before it found the hole. He finally got down under the crack 
of her ass and settled into the slot, right on target. But there still was a 
lot more stomping around with his hind legs and tail twitching before he 
actually worked it into her pearly gates and started driving it home. 
Felicia was yipping and yelling the whole time, telling him, "Fuck me, 
Pepe," in Spanish and English all mixed together. 

Just to see it happening you'd have sworn that fucking donkey was ripping 
the living shit out of the poor helpless girl, but no such thing. She was 
even laughing, along with all the yelling and whooping. I don't know how 
many times she'd done this act before, but she must've been damn well broken 
in. The donkey kept on humping and humping at her for quite a while. I was 
surprised-I didn't think they went on that long. I'd heard that horses just 
made a couple of quick plunges and shot their wads and I assumed donkeys 
would be the same. But they must've had this bugger trained to hold his fire 
and make a better show of it for the crowd. 

It was wild and exciting to watch-I'll say that-but a little sickening too 
in a way. Seeing that fucking ramrod disappearing at least a foot up inside 
a girl's guts had to make you wince a little. 

When the donkey came finally, he must've shot a half-a-gallon of juice up 
her alley-it came oozing back out all around her ass and dripped down the 
backs of her legs. She let out a big yahoo and right away the two big boys 
came out and pulled the donkey back off her and led him away with his prick 
still a half-a-yard long and a big streamer of goo dangling off the end of 
it. 

Felicia hopped down off her perch, as spry as ever as far as I could see. 
She didn't look any the worse for her ordeal, although her body was dripping 
wet with sweat and her pussy and ass were all lathered white with the 
donkey's cream. 

"You like?" she said with a big happy smile and we all gave her a round of 
applause. I was thinking, "I wonder what the hell she could do for an 
encore." But that was the end of the formal entertainment. Felicia went 
around the circle collecting tips from the tourists and it looked to me as 
if she made quite a haul for herself. But she'd earned every nickel of it as 
far as I was concerned. I only hoped the goddam madame would let her keep a 
few bucks of it for herself, but probably not. Those Cuban whores lived a 
real slave existence in those days, from all I heard. 

I never got a chance to check up on the matter though. Castro moved in and 
took over the whole works before I ever got back to Havana again and I hear 
he put all the brothels out of business right off first thing. It must've 
been quite a blow to those poor girls, having to go out and go to work. But 
the one I really feel sorry for is that donkey. No more screwing pretty pink 
pussies for him. He must've wondered what he did wrong. The lousy communists 
probably got him pulling a junk wagon or some such thing. Poor little 
donkey. That revolution really fucked up his sex-life. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Through the years, if historians ancient and modern are to be believed, 
there is hardly a creature-bird, beast or fish-that has not been used for 
man's sexual gratification. 

We have already referred to the Roman arena spectacles, wherein giraffes, 
leopards, mandrills, bulls and boars were involved in the action. It is also 
recorded that Roman ladies of that time enjoyed running snakes up their 
vaginas in the warm weather for a cool, refreshing fuck. 

In ancient Egypt both men and women regularly consorted with goats. In the 
temples, goats were advertised as incarnations of gods, and were specially 
trained to provide sex-services to worshippers of either sex. Monkeys were 
also put to sexual use, dog-faced baboons being especially popular. And most 
intriguing of all, there are reports that some resourceful and highly 
adventurous Egyptians of the time even managed intercourse with crocodiles. 

Chickens and other barnyard fowl have always been popular and are still 
often used today. Men also have been known to enjoy intercourse with 
dolphins and sea-cows, and women have found sensual delight in inserting 
squirming fish up into their jaded quims. 

Sheep and calves have most commonly served men down through the years and 
continue to be most popular with farm boys today, although horses, pigs and 
chickens still figure prominently in barnyard action. But the most popular 
bestial partner of all in the modern world undoubtedly is the dog, and 
especially among city-dwellers to whom he is the only practical animal 
readily available. Dogs seem to adapt themselves agreeably to sex relations 
with humans, serving with either tongue or penis, eagerly cooperative in 
fucking a human cunt or ass-hole when offered or slobbering over a 
honey-smeared prick or pussy. 

Women are more likely to favor a dog over all other animals to serve their 
sex purposes and many an unattached lady keeps a canine lover these days-the 
perfect partner-always ready-always willing-and always absolutely discreet. 
A dog will never kiss and tell. 

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

 Case 2 Laura M. 

I was married for four years, and for three years and eleven months of that 
time I was the most miserable mismated wife in the history of matrimony. I'd 
had my share of affairs before marriage I have to admit, and I'd always 
thought of myself as a normal heterosexual female that responded with all 
the proper gasps and twitches when a man made the usual penetrations, but 
somehow when I settled down into marriage and it became a night-after-night 
thing, I became a nervous wreck and got so I hated sex completely. I didn't 
even want that man to touch me anymore for some crazy reason. It was all I 
could do by superhuman willpower to put up with a wham-bam quick one from 
him. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with me and I couldn't tell him 
either, so we just fought and yelled at each other and things went from bad 
to worse until we wound up hardly even speaking to each other. 

If it hadn't been for this girl friend of mine, Vivian, I don't know what I 
would have done. She lived in the same building and was a decorator. She'd 
helped me to fix up the apartment when I first moved in and then she went on 
being helpful in all kinds of ways after that. She spent a lot of time with 
me during the daytimes, and I told her my sad stories-let her know all about 
my sex hang-ups and everything that was bugging me about my old man and men 
in general. 

She never had been married herself but she talked as if she knew the rules 
of the game pretty well. Anyway, she was a lot of comfort to me when my 
husband finally pulled out for good. I won't say that Vivian and I fell into 
a lesbian relationship exactly. We didn't go down on each other or anything 
like that. But we did get pretty huggy and kissy sometimes and I found I was 
enjoying her holding me and caressing me the way I couldn't stand my husband 
doing it to me those last couple of years. 

But I was getting more and more confused. What the hell was I, anyway? 
Finally I up and put it to Vivian in plain down-to-earth terms. 

"Am I a lesbian or what? I don't really know what I want anymore. I thought 
it would be a big relief with my husband gone but now I find that I miss him 
somehow-miss what he could do for me, if you know what I mean. Even though I 
could hardly stand it when he did, that last year or so. He bugged me 
so-always expecting his pleasure right on schedule, night after night. 
Insisting on his "marital rights.' What I need is a nice docile man who's 
available and ready to go when I want him but never bugs me otherwise--just 
up and disappears when I don't want him around anymore. Maybe I should hire 
a gigolo just for one hour or so a week to come in and cool down my 
passions. Do they have such things?" 

Vivian laughed and said, "Let me get this straight. What you would like is a 
man with a good stiff member who's always up and ready when you say 'go' and 
then crawls off and lies down in a corner afterwards and stays there with 
his mouth shut until you whistle for him again." 

I laughed too. "You hit it right on the head. But I'm afraid there just 
ain't no such animal." 

"Ha!" she yelled. "You just said the magic word. Animal. The answer to all 
your problems, honey chile." 

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

"Hell no," she said. "A chimp is a mean son of a bitch. Worse than a man 
even. They'll bite the hell out of you, those bastards. A dog is the only 
animal for a woman. They can do every goddam thing a man can do for you 
except soul-kiss, and can take care of that department for you." 

She was good at kissing. That's what had me worried about myself. I enjoyed 
her expert kisses more than I ever did my husband's or any man's. But what I 
was missing was the hard root up in the soft shaft. A good stiff prick, to 
put it bluntly. 

But a dog!! I still thought she was kidding. 

"You're screwed-up and frustrated, right?" Vivian said. "Can't live with a 
man and can't live without one. A lot of us have that problem. But look at 
me. Do I seem frustrated? Not for a minute, baby. But did you ever see me 
dating a man? Forget it-who needs it?" 

"Well, maybe you can keep cool just with women," I said. I figured she was 
giving me a lesbian confession here. "I can't just cut myself off from men 
though. I'm not programmed that way, I'm afraid." 

"Oh, men are fine. I don't knock 'em. Great to talk to-have dinner with-see 
a show. But you don't have to let 'em take any liberties. That's when they 
get possessive and bossy. Keep 'em at arm's length and you get 'em at your 
mercy. But when you feel that old crotch-fever coming on you and need 
something up inside there to scratch it where it itches.-that's where 
faithful old ever-ready Bozo steps up and fills the bill for mama." 

All of a sudden with a shuddering jolt I realized that this whole thing was 
serious. I'd seen her walking Bozo a couple of times-Bozo was a gigantic 
hound she kept in her apartment. Great Dane, or some such thing. I'd never 
been able to figure before why she wanted to keep such a huge dog in a small 
city apartment. But now it all came clear. Apparently she had Bozo trained 
to "scratch her where it itches." 

I didn't know what the hell to say. I guess I just gaped at 
her-thunderstruck. I couldn't believe it. 

"Don't look so fucking horrified," she said. "And don't knock something till 
you've tried it. Come with me, baby. I'm taking over your education right 
now." She grabbed hold of my arm. "We're going up to my place and I'm going 
to give you a free home demonstration of the kind of pussy therapy you need. 
No obligation to buy. But I guarantee it'll put that half-ass husband of 
yours right out of your mind and give you a whole new outlook on life, 
sex-wise. You'll be ready and willing to kiss men goodbye and good 
riddance." 

I must have been in some kind of a daze. I don't even remember riding up in 
the elevator. The next thing I knew, we were in her apartment and big old 
Bozo was leaping up all over her with his tongue out, sniffing and yipping. 
He must have been able to smell her intentions. Personally I was scared to 
death of the goddam beast. I didn't even like little dogs. It looked like 
she had him pretty well disciplined though. She yelled at him to quit his 
messing around and get in the bedroom and he did just what he was told. 

I guess I looked as if I was about to faint dead away, so Vivian fixed me a 
drink, which I really needed at that point, and then she said, "Now, you 
goddam prissy-ass Victorian, relax here and breathe deeply until your head 
clears. I'm going in the bedroom and set the scene for you. When I yell, you 
come on in and you'll see my free home demonstration of doggy-diddling-the 
sport of queens." 

She left and I could hear sweet-talking and sniffing and rustling around in 
the bedroom. By now the shock had subsided and I was just burning up with 
curiosity over the whole thing. It was so fantastic, I couldn't wait to see 
what she'd be doing with that wild goddam dog. I still didn't really believe 
that she'd actually let him-well, my God! 

Then she sang out, "Finish your drink, count three, and come on in, baby. 
Bozo rides again!" 

The dog was making a hell of a racket. I could hear him slurping and 
snuffling as if he was lapping up his dinner-dish. And then I came through 
the doorway and my eyes popped out. It was even crazier than I'd expected. 
Vivian had stripped right down to practically nothing-all she had on was her 
bra and garter-belt. She was sprawled on her back on the bed with about 
three fat pillows underneath her rear-end, so that her spread crotch was 
well up in the air where Bozo could get at it. And was he ever at it! He was 
standing up between her legs, lapping away at her slit with his long tongue, 
slobbering and drooling all over it. Actually eating her pussy! Can you 
imagine? 

"Oh no!" I said. "You gotta be kidding." 

"Pull up a chair, oh thou of little faith," Vivian said. "This is just the 
beginning. You ain't seen nothing yet." 

I couldn't even talk-I was speechless. I sat down beside the bed and 
couldn't take my eyes off the freaky scene. That wild doggy tongue was going 
like mad-all up and down her slit and in and out the hollows of her 
crotchreally lathering her up good. 

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

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

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

"How-how did you get him to-er-do that?" I said. "Did you smear something on 
you or what?" 

"In the beginning I did, to give him the idea of what was wanted. But he 
caught on fast. He doesn't need any inducements anymore now. I just lie down 
like this and spread it and he takes it from there. Ain't it a gas? He gets 
his reward afterwards-you'll see." 

"Oh, I don't believe it," I said. Bozo was really zeroing in now. It was 
incredible. Right dead-center on her clitoris-working it over with his 
tongue just like a human person. I was beginning to get hot myself, just 
from watching. Vivian wasn't talking anymore. That crazy tongue was starting 
to get to her. Her mouth was hanging open and her breath was beginning to 
come hard. 

All I could say was, "Wow-wow," over and over. Now the damn tongue was 
poking up inside actually. Pushing into her like a prick. Her legs were 
twitching and her ass quivering. And the dog must've been getting excited 
too, cause he was beginning to drip saliva and he was panting as hard as she 
was. 

Then all of a sudden she let out a whoop and waved her arms in the air. I 
guess this was the signal for Bozo to cool it with the cunnilingus and 
really put it to her. And he got the message all right. He raised up his 
head and barked a couple of times and then he Climbed up over her body and 
gave her face a couple of licks and she kissed him back. Those two were real 
lovers, I'll tell you. Now I noticed his prick was up by her pussy, in 
position to do a job of work, just starting to swell up in anticipation of 
what Bozo knew was coming. Vivian lifted up her legs on both sides of him 
and stroked his flanks with the insides of her thighs. This was a huge dog, 
don't forget. The same general proportions as a man. I mean, he really 
covered her. 

She arched her hips upward, aiming her crotch right at his pecker to give 
him a straight-on target to shoot at. It didn't look like he'd have any 
trouble ramming it in her from there. Her slit was pretty well-lubricated 
already too-slick and glistening wet from the dog's slobbering over it, plus 
her own juice oozing out from inside. 

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

He nudged forward and poked his pecker up between her legs and she wiggled 
herself a little and pressed up to meet the point of it and put it to the 
hole. And then with hardly any trouble at all he slipped into the opening of 
her spread cunt and drove all the way home. 

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

I had to pinch myself, I swear. There I sat, actually watching a decent 
respectable woman in twentieth century America-my best friend in the world 
practically-letting herself be screwed by a Great Dane dog! I thought such 
things only happened in stag movies or in opium dens in Algeria or some such 
place. 

He was really pounding it into her-wham wham-with his big brown balls 
whacking up against her ass with every thrust-and Vivian was meeting every 
push of his with a bump of her own. She was completely out of this world by 
that time. I don't think she even knew I existed anymore. Her head was 
lolling back and forth, her eyes rolling in her head, her jaw hanging wide 
open. The dog was drooling spit down onto her face and neck but she wasn't 
paying any attention to that. She was practically frothing at the mouth 
herself. 

She grabbed onto Bozo's front paws and lifted them up onto her chest, 
planting them on top of her boobs, and then she held them there, pressing 
his hard claws down against her nipples. 

I guess she threw an orgasm before he did, the way she was thrashing around 
and whimpering. I never saw such passion before in my life. But then, I'd 
never watched another woman get screwed before, by man or animal. 

She kept on making these little moaning noises in her throat and the dog 
started in then sort of squealing himself, as I guess his own orgasm was 
coming to a head. 

But then it was all over all of a sudden. The dog quit his humping and his 
head sagged down over her face, and she brought her hands up and held onto 
his body, keeping him in position where he was with his prick still jammed 
up inside her. She was puffing like she'd run a twenty-six mile marathon and 
she had to get her breath back before she could speak to me again. 

"We have to-we have to wait," she said, "until-the swelling on his prick 
goes down-before we pull apart." 

I didn't exactly get the meaning of that at the time, but she explained 
afterwards that a dog gets a big puffed-up ball on the middle of his cock 
when he inserts it into something feminine and starts fucking, and that 
anchors him inside the cunt, rectum or whatever as if he was riveted there. 
It only subsides after he shoots his load and goes soft again. If he tried 
to pull out while the ball was still engorged it would rip the hell out of 
her cunt and she'd be in big trouble trying to explain her lacerated twat to 
her family doctor. 

That's how dogs manage to get stuck together sometimes when they fuck. The 
female's cunt clamps down so tight on the base of the male's prick that the 
blood can't drain off after the orgasm-the prick stays swollen and the two 
dogs are clamped together and in big trouble. 

I thought it was a funny notion at the time. Little did I know I'd be 
laughing out the other side of my face later. But Bozo cooled down pretty 
quick that time and then he backed off from her and she sat up and gave me a 
big smile. She looked pretty hot and disheveled but very happy apparently. 

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

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

"Listen-there's only one way to find out for yourself. Get those clothes 
off, Miss Freeze-ass. It's your turn next." 

"Oh, I couldn't do that," I said. "You're used to it and-and he's used to 
you. He probably wouldn't do it with me-would he?" 

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

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

"It hurts real good, baby. Hurts in all the right places. You won't believe 
it till you try it, and afterwards you won't want it any other way. 

Bozo is 'the spoiler.' The only thing I'm worried about is that after one 
wild orgasm on the end of that bulbous cock of his you'll want to steal him 
away from me." 

"God, Vivian," I said. "This isn't something I can just jump right into 
blindly. You've got to realize-you've really bowled me over with the whole 
thing. I mean-it's not exactly an everyday-oh Christ, Viv-let me sleep on 
the idea tonight, Maybe tomorrow. God knows, I need something new in my 
sex-life, but I'm not so sure this is it." 

"Hogwash!" she said. "I know you. If you take time to think about it your 
prudish nature will scare you out of it. You've got to do it right now, 
while the juices are flowing. You know damn well you're itching to try it." 
She was up and at me then, pulling on my dress. "Come on, Laura. Get out of 
those clothes. You'll thank me forever for this, believe me." 

"Okay okay," I said. "But just the cunnilingus part-okay? Let me see how I 
like his tongue before I make any further commitments." 

"Fair enough," she said. "So get stripped and I'll go get you another drink 
to loosen your inhibitions. Come on with me, Bozo. Let the lady undress in 
private." 

I laughed. "Thanks. Whatever else happens, at least I can always tell my 
grandchildren I was once eaten alive by a Great Dane dog." 

I peeled down, taking off every stitch. After seeing what a slobby sucker 
Bozo was I figured I was better off naked. I didn't want him drooling all 
over my underwear. So I was stark bare-ass by the time Vivian returned with 
the drink. Bozo scared hell out of me by making a bee-line for me as soon as 
he got back in the room. 

I backed off yelling, "Hold him. Hold him!" I guess I thought he was going 
to throw me down and rape me on the spot. But he only wanted to sniff around 
my pussy a little, now that the wraps were off the merchandise. 

"I'll hang onto him," Vivian said. "You get yourself ready. Pile up the 
pillows like I had them and make yourself comfortable." 

I lay down the same way she'd been, giggling self-consciously. I felt 
shameless, all sprawled out naked that way in the bright daylight. 

"Open wider, please," Vivian said, pushing my thighs further apart. "Give 
him a good wide opening so he's not cramped for work-space." 

I giggled again and must have been blushing like a school-girl. I told her, 
"I feel like a picture in a dirty book." 

She said, "Take my word for it-you look like an art masterpiece in a museum. 
Are you ready? Say when." 

I took a deep breath and said, "I guess so." 

Pow! The next thing I knew that great hairy monster was up there looming 
over me, sniffing me up and down, blowing his hot breath all over my 
goosefleshed body. I could have sworn he was about to chomp a great big bite 
out of me. I was paralyzed. I didn't dare move a muscle. 

"Relax-relax," Vivian said. "He won't hurt you. Close your eyes and think 
beautiful thoughts. He'll do all the work-don't worry." 

I closed my eyes and tried to close off my mind too, to everything except 
pussy sensations. But it didn't work. I could feel that hot, humid breath 
hitting me here, there and everywhere and every now and then a drop of warm 
dog-spit would splash down onto me. I was wishing Bozo would get down below 
there where he belonged and start his cunt-licking. But all of a sudden I 
felt his hot vapors hit me right square in the face and I winced and turned 
my head away, and then-UGGH! He began licking right on my mouth, and when I 
opened up to make a protest noise his slobby, dripping tongue went right 
inside. I twisted my head violently and tried to sit up, but his hard paw 
came right down between my breasts and pushed me back. 

Vivian finally noticed that I was in trouble and she called him off me, and 
I was ready to quit the whole business right then and there. I took another 
drink to rinse out my mouth and get rid of the doggy taste. 

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

She laughed. "Okay already. He just wanted to let you know he-likes you. 
He's ready to get down to fundamentals now." 

So we started again and this time, thank God, he went right for the crotch. 
I closed my eyes again and all of a sudden I wasn't nervous anymore. It 
started in right away to tickle like a very, very groovy masturbation. He 
was hitting the ticklish places all right with a fantastic magic touch. I'd 
had my slit licked and diddled and fondled and fucked many a time before by 
fingers and feathers and pricks and tongues, but nothing ever reached me as 
quickly as Bozo did with that crazy educated tongue of his. 

Vivian was talking to me-asking me questions, I think. But she should have 
known better. I was already long gone-up on a cloudout of sight. I could see 
what she'd meant now. Who needed a man with Bozo on the scene? Forget it's a 
dog doing it to you, I told myself. Just spread your wings and fly! 

I began twisting around and rocking my hips. I couldn't hold still anymore. 
I could hardly catch my breath. My butt came tumbling down off the pillows, 
but that didn't stop Bozo. He stayed right in there and I held my legs just 
as wide apart as they'd go to give him an open field. The crazy trembles 
were shooting up everywhere through my insides now and I'd just about lost 
all control. I don't know if I was whimpering or laughing or screaming or 
what. I was completely gone. That wild crazy dog had turned my whole 
freaked-out body into one great big explosive cunt, all five-feet-nine of 
me. That's what a woman hopes for in bed But seldom ever finds. She wants to 
be turned into a complete cunt. Everything else gone until there's nothing 
left but wall-to-wall orgasm. 

And now I wanted to be fucked' Man or dog-what did I care? I needed a prick 
right then-a rampaging fuck to split me up the center-groove-stuff me from 
gut to gullet. 

I don't remember a thing of what happened from then on. All I can recall are 
the feelings inside me-sugar-coated skyrockets. But Vivian told me 
afterwards that I was thrashing all over the bed so much I tore the sheet 
right up the middle and I was grabbing at Bozo and clawing him with my 
fingernails, yelling, "Fuck me-please! Please. Fuck me. Fuck me!" 

And fuck me he sure did. With a little help from Vivian I wound up back on 
my pillow perch, and Bozo's ever-ready and rigid prick went ramrodding up my 
snatch and started pounding away. From there on it was Vivian's scene all 
over again, only this time I was flying and she was the ground-crew. 

This action went on for about a month or so and then Viv told me one day she 
was going out of town for a week and asked if I'd mind taking care of Bozo 
while she was gone. Would I? Wow! Did I ever have dreams of fantastic day 
and night orgies. Just me and my doggy dream-lover. Alone together! Now I'd 
be able to do some of the way-out crazy things with him that I'd never had 
the nerve to do in front of Vivian. I wanted to kiss him all over his hairy 
hide-suck his prick-everything! Give Bozo the same crazy pleasures he'd 
given me. 

I couldn't wait for Vivian to get the hell out of town so I could get the 
orgy under way. As soon as she was gone I went at it. I closed up all the 
blinds and drew the drapes. Bozo and I were going to have complete privacy. 
I didn't even want pigeons spying on us. 

Then I stripped naked and Bozo and I started a romp on the living room 
floor. We rolled around together all over the carpet, wrestling and biting 
at each other. Bozo loved that kind of thing. Then I pinned him down flat on 
his back and started kissing and licking him all over his belly and 
underparts. This was something new for him, and he lay still just whimpering 
a little. I could tell he enjoyed it. I teased him awhile, circling all 
around his prick before I came down on it. Then I took his balls into my 
mouth and rolled them around on my tongue and nibbled them gently. I knew 
men always liked that and I figured a dog would too. Finally I took his 
prick in and licked it all over-drew the head out and sucked on it as hard 
as I could. He seemed to enjoy it all right. But he was getting pretty 
restless, and I guessed he was in the mood to fuck. 

But I wanted to play games some more, so I hopped up all of a sudden and ran 
into the kitchen to get him to chase me. I figured I'd make him work for his 
piece of ass today. He came charging after me, but I ducked around the table 
and ran back out and into the bedroom. He didn't come in after me right 
away, which puzzled me. And then when he did come into the doorway, he 
didn't seem to be in such a playful mood after all. 

So I figured I'd teased him long enough, and I started moving forward 
towards him slowly, walking bow-legged in a sort of crouch, with my crotch 
spread and my pussy thrust forward. 

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

All of a sudden he took me by surprise. He crouched down like a lion and 
then leaped onto me and knocked me sprawling on my back. I tried to push him 
off me so we could get up onto the bed and be comfortable, but he wasn't 
waiting any longer and he wouldn't let me up. He planted his big forepaws 
right square on my boobs and squashed them flat and then started up a 
thunderous barking, square in my face. This was something new. I'd never 
heard him do that before. I got the idea though that old Bozo meant 
business. It was fucking time and no fooling. And just to be sure that I got 
the message, he leaned in and snapped his jaws about an inch from my nose. 
No more bullshit, lady. 

Then he backed off and I smiled to show him no hard feelings and spread my 
legs and lifted my hips to let him see I was ready and willing. He sniffed 
at my cunt a couple of times and bumped his nose against it, and then after 
a couple more barks in my direction he climbed up into position and brought 
his prick up to the slot. I raised up a little more and braced myself and he 
shoved it in me as easy as always and started fucking away, even faster and 
harder than usual. I guessed that my sucking on him had really got him 
stirred up and impatient. 

I tried extra-hard to make it a good fuck for him this time. As soon as his 
prick swelled up to full-size in me and filled my cunt, locking us together, 
I took hold of his ribs and held on and rocked and wiggled and humped up and 
down along with him. I tried to pinch his prick as tight as I could too, 
hoping I'd give him the greatest orgasm a dog ever had. 

But then my own insides started to freak out as usual and I got lost in the 
ecstasies of my own exploding orgasms until we both had blown ourselves out 
completely. I lay there afterwards, still holding onto his hot flanks, 
panting from my extra exertions, waiting for his puffed-up prick to cool 
down and wilt so we could disengage. But this time of all times-with just 
the two of us alone-that horrible dreaded thing had to happen to us. We were 
locked together I The big hard knob on his cock was blown up inside me and 
it wouldn't go down. Somehow, with all my extra contortions and 
cunt-squeezings, I'd managed to close the mouth of my snatch so tight around 
the root of his prick that the blood couldn't drain off and, for all I knew, 
he was going to stay hard up inside me forever. I had no idea what we could 
do, and I was in an instant state of panic. If only I'd had sense enough to 
ask Vivian what to do in such a case. But she had only mentioned it as a 
crazy possibility and we'd laughed about it as a joke. 

Bozo wasn't too delighted about things either. He tried to pull back and get 
free and it hurt like hell when he did. It felt like a barbed fishhook up 
inside me, tearing at my guts. I guess it was painful to Bozo too though. He 
whined a couple of times and then turned mean and started barking in my face 
again. As if it was my fault. I figured the only thing we could do was wait 
it out and try to stay relaxed, hoping the muscles or whatever would loosen 
or something and undo us eventually. But what a drag! 

I held onto Bozo and pulled him down beside me and we just lay there 
together for what seemed like an hour at least, but it was no deal. His 
prick looked as if it was going to stay hard forever unless we did something 
about it. But what? 

I guess it was the first time it had ever happened to Bozo too, and he was 
pretty confused about it all. Every now and then He'd start thrashing around 
in a new try at breaking loose, and every time he did it my cunt was getting 
rawer and rawer inside from all that chafing. And then as if that wasn't bad 
enough, after awhile he started getting horny again and wanting to fuck some 
more, of all things! All of a sudden he began a whole new humping sequence 
and I thought I was getting my cunt reamed out with a barbed wire dildo. 
Wow! And that miserable beast just kept on fucking me and fucking me-I 
thought he'd never quit. 

I couldn't hold him still anymore after that. The more we thrashed around 
and humped away the weaker I got, so pretty soon I was just plain at his 
mercy. When he moved, I moved with him-hanging on desperately, trying to 
minimize the godawful frictions inside my tortured cunt. 

I didn't have the faintest idea what to do about it. Go to the telephone? 
Who would I call? Imagine trying to explain a predicament like that to 
anyone! And then get myself arrested for bestiality on top of it. Prominent 
local icoman caught in bestial act. I could see the headlines now. And I 
could go on the I've Got a Secret television show and win a bundle. 

The only thought that occurred to me was that I'd heard of people throwing 
water or turning a hose on dogs when they got locked together. If Bozo and I 
could dunk ourselves in an ice cold bath-that might jar us loose. But 
getting that monstrous beast into the bathroom was a major project that was 
beyond me. He showed no inclination at all to move in any directions that I 
suggested. 

So we lay on the floor together endlessly and every hour or two he'd start a 
new round of thrashing about, which would always wind up with him getting 
horny again and starting another session of excruciating fucking in my 
mincemeat snatch. By now my inner canal was so swollen and inflamed, it was 
an even tighter fit than ever around his fat cock, and all the more searing 
agony for me with every move he made. 

At last I managed to get to the kitchen with him in one of our cooperative 
mobile periods and we shared some meat scraps from the refrigerator and then 
lay together on the kitchen floor for some hours afterward until I finally 
fell asleep, completely exhausted. 

I woke up in the middle of the night, a mass of aches and pains, and it took 
a minute for me to remember where I was and why. But then in a sudden flash 
of joy I realized that I was lying on the floor alone. Bozo was gone. 
Somehow while I slept he had achieved detumescence apparently and we were 
free again. I staggered into the bedroom, hardly able to walk, and collapsed 
on the bed. My whole belly was on fire and I was very much afraid that I had 
suffered serious internal damage. 

And then the damn nightmare wasn't over yet. I was just dozing off again 
when Bozo suddenly loomed over me, blowing his steamy breath in my face, and 
he jolted me awake with a couple of loud barks. 

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

Apparently he hadn't, because he pressed me down with his paws again and 
started rooting around my poor crotch, all ready to have another go-around. 
I didn't have much strength left, but it was life or death for me at that 
point. When he barked again I barked back at him just as loud. "Get off! Go! 
Get out!" He snapped at me but I swatted him on the side of the head and 
managed to slip out from under him and escape. He jumped after me and gave 
me a nip on the arm when I pushed him away, but after a lot of hassling 
around and a couple more minor bites on the legs and feet as I kicked at 
him, I finally got him out of the room by superhuman brute force and slammed 
the door on him. He pounded and scratched at it and barked his head off all 
the rest of the night, but Bozo and I were finished. The love affair was 
over-period. 

By morning he was too hungry to be thinking anymore about sex, thank God, 
and it was safe for me to come out again. Even so, I wore several layers of 
clothes and an extra-heavy pair of slacks for protection, just in case. 

I had to keep the damn beast with me the rest of the week as per my 
agreement with Vivian. I couldn't just toss him out in the alley. But I sure 
didn't let him take any more liberties. I kept a broom handle near me at all 
times to belt him with in case he got any more horny ideas. But there was no 
problem, since I never stripped down again in front of him. That's what 
turned him on-the sight and smell of naked pussy. He was as docile as a lamb 
as long as you kept yourself decently covered. 

I was very relieved to find that my tormented pussy was not seriously 
mangled after all and needed no major medical attention. By the end of the 
week in fact it was as good as new again. And a whole lot wiser besides. 

Needless to say, I've given up animal fornication for good-gone back to 
casual sleeping around with male human animals exclusively, a return to the 
habits of my bachelor-girl days. Men can be problems for a poor defenseless 
woman and they certainly can bug you in all kinds of ways, but it's 
reassuring to know when you lie down with one of them that when the fuck is 
finished the meshed connections will come apart again without major surgery. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

In this day and age with hordes of young people, hippy and otherwise, 
warring against the establishment politically, socially, morally and 
sexually, there is a great urge among them to try anything at all that's 
taboo, just for the sake of rebellion. And if the opportunity for a "new 
kick" presents itself-a kick that's way, way out on the deep end of sex 
experience-a kick that is an absolute no-no to the square world, not only 
unlawful but unthinkable-that makes it a kick well worth trying. 

So inevitably many youths today might be expected at least once to dabble 
experimentally in bestiality. As one young man told me who had tried his 
luck at troilism with a girl and a large woolly dog. "Why the hell not, 
after you've done everything else? Anything that the straight world's moral 
spokesmen say is absolutely forbidden can't be all bad. like so many of our 
stupid taboos, where's the harm in it actually? Me and my girl and the dog 
all enjoyed it, that's for sure." 

Another boy of my acquaintance, a college dropout who has since gone to 
Canada to escape a draft call, gave me the following account of a group 
experience in impromptu bestiality which is illustrative of the casual way 
in which such incidents might often happen. None of these young people had 
any raging inner drive toward bestial sex. The whole incident came up as a 
one-time-only lark-just another spur-of-the-moment reaching out for kicks on 
their part. 

 Case 3 Jack O. 

We were going cross-country in one of those "drive-away" cars, you know? 
Drive a car to California-all gas paid. One of those deals. There was me and 
a buddy of mine, Pedro, and this freaky chick Bessie we picked up in a fried 
chicken joint along the way. 

Somewhere in Tennessee, I guess it was, we passed by this place like a 
ranch, and there was a sign that said, SHENENDOAH HORSE FARM-BREEDING-STUD 
SERVICE. Something like that. And that got us talking. 

Pedro says to Bessie, "Hey man, you want in on a little of that stud 
service? Now's your chance to get the screw of a lifetime for yourself." 

She laughs and says, "Are you suggesting that I should fuck a horse?" 

I said, "Why not? You've made it with everything else that walks, crawls or 
flies." 

She said, "I'll have you know that I never fucked any creature with more 
than three legs in my life." 

Pedro says, "You ought to try it with a big old fucking stallion one time. 
One of those huge horse-cocks would be just about the right size for that 
goddam oversize cunt of yours." 

Then they got to throwing names back and forth at each other like 
"dinky-dick" and "tun-nel-twat" but all in fun, and they wound up like they 
always did, rassling around and goosing and grabbing the shit out of each 
other on the back seat. I happened to be driving and eating a chicken leg at 
the time or I would have been in on it too. 

But that's what got us started thinking and talking about animal-fucking in 
the first place. 

After awhile when they'd got tired of rassling, Bessie said, "I wonder if 
anybody ever really did do it with a horse?" 

"Are you kidding?" Pedro says. "Didn't you ever hear of people making it 
with animals? They fuck with dogs, cows, sheep-even chickens." 

"Oh, you're kidding," she said. 

"Ask Jack," Pedro said. "He's an old country boy. I bet he's plugged more'n 
one sheep in his career." 

I told them that sheep-fucking isn't worth a shit, despite what you hear. A 
half-grown she-calf will give you a hell of a lot better squeeze-off any day 
in the week." I was only telling them what I'd heard from some of my boyhood 
buddies actually. I hadn't ever really tried it myself and didn't have any 
present intentions of starting. I had seen other kids do it a couple of 
times. It's pretty common sport around the farm country after all. It's just 
that the idea never appealed to me all that much. 

But a little while after that we passed by a field full of cows and Bessie 
yells out, "Hey, let's fuck a cow. I gotta see this with my own eyes before 
I believe it." 

And Pedro says, "Yeh, Jack. What about it? Show us how it's done and we'll 
all try it." He was at the wheel then, and he pulled off the highway onto a 
dirt road that ran up alongside the field. 

"Hey, come on, man," I said. "You gotta be kidding. Right out here by the 
road?" 

He said, "Once we're over this hill we're out of sight. There's more cows 
down by those trees. Nobody can see us there from the road. We'll pick out 
one with a sexy ass and take her in under the trees out of sight." 

"Ooh, groovy-groovy," Bessie is saying. "I can't wait to see this." 

Pedro says, "Is that all you're gonna do is watch?" 

She laughed and said, "What do you want me to do? Eat the cow's pussy? I 
wouldn't want to turn the poor animal into a lesbian." 

"Maybe there'll be a bull for you," Pedro said. "He'd give you a fuck to 
remember." 

Bessie said, "The old Romans used to screw with bulls, didn't they? I heard 
that somewhere." 

"You don't have to go back that far," I told her. "There are still women 
doing it today, believe it or not. Bulls-horses-you name it." 

"No thanks," she said. "I have enough trouble taking on you guys with your 
big fucking elephant pricks. I'll try it with a cute little calf maybe if 
there is one, but bulls are out-period." 

I happened to recall a bit of history just then that I thought might 
interest her. "There was an old Greek King way way back in Argos who had a 
couple of beautiful daughters who went off into the fields and lived naked 
with the cows and screwed with the bulls, according to ancient history." 

"What the hell were they trying to prove?" Bessie said. 

"The book didn't say. Maybe they were just trying to get their names in the 
ancient history book." 

Pedro said, "Maybe the bulls tore their clothes off and raped them. That 
happens quite a lot with bulls." He pulled the car off the road and onto a 
rutty track that led into the field and we stopped beside the gate to the 
cow pasture. The cows were all staring at us as we got out of the car. 

"Look at them gape," Pedro said. "Didn't they ever see long hair on guys 
before?" 

Bessie said, "It's my big boobs they're staring at. They're jealous." 

I said, "They know we've come to fuck them. They can tell." 

"Then why don't they run away?" Bessie said. 

"They know it's no use. They know grim determination when they see it. They 
can read the burning lust in our eyes." 

"Which one shall we fuck?" Bessie said. Pedro said, "This nearest one has 
kind of a cute ass." 

I said, "I'm a tit-man myself. I kind of like the one with the big boob." 

Bessie laughed. "First tit I ever saw with half-a-dozen nipples on it." 

"Well, take your pick, lover boy," Pedro said to me, belting me on the back 
in friendly fashion. "You gonna fuck one of these here critters or are you 
not?" 

"This is ridiculous," I said. "You can't just walk up to any old cow in a 
field and shove your prick into her cunt. Nobody does it out in a field like 
that. You have to get them in a special stall in a barn-otherwise they'll 
never stand still for it." 

"Ah-h, you're getting chicken," Bessie said. 

"Cows are no good anyhow," I told them. "You've got to stand on a box or 
something to come up to their level, and then their big old slobby cunts are 
too damn big in size for a man's prick. I told you before-a little heifer is 
what you need. They're just the right height from the ground for easy entry 
by a man standing, and just the right size of hole too." 

"There's a little one over there," Bessie said. 

I told her, "That's a he, not a she." 

"So, fuck him up the ass," she said. "What difference does it make to a 
faggot like you?" 

"There's a bunch of calves down below," Pedro said. "Come on-let's go down 
there." 

"Aw, why don't we cut out this shit and get the fuck out of here?" I said. 
"This whole thing is idiotic." 

But they wouldn't hear of it. No turning back now. They had their hearts set 
on seeing a cow-molestation. 

"We'll hold onto her for you," Bessie said. "One of those real little ones 
shouldn't be much trouble." 

"Listen to her," I said. "You want to be an accessory to raping a juvenile?" 

"Why not?" she said. "The boys always used to tell me when I was nine, 'When 
you're big enough, you're old enough.' " 

"Come on, man," Pedro said. "I got seconds after you. I always wanted to try 
this action." 

So we climbed over the gate and took off down the hill, carefully 
sidestepping the cow-flop as we went. I had a real sinking feeling about the 
whole thing, wishing the goddam subject had never come up in the first 
place. But these two-once they got their feeble minds set on some wild piece 
of stupidity, there was no turning them aside. 

The cows moved away from us, sort of wary, as we came by. It almost seemed 
as if they knew what we were after. And it wasn't even the mating season for 
cows. 

We picked out a cute little brown calf with a white head and tail. She was 
gonna be it, like it or not. But I knew we were going to have a rough old 
time, whether those other fools realized it or not. It's no joke trying to 
catch a calf-even a little one-and no fun trying to hold her once you get 
her. 

"And another thing," I told them. "Whichever one of these big bastards is 
her mother isn't gonna like it worth a damn when we start screwing around 
with her calf." 

Bessie laughed. "What can a cow do?" 

"Listen, kid," I said. "When a wild-eyed cow comes charging at us, just 
don't stand in my way-okay?" 

Anyhow, we circled around this little old calf about three feet high and 
closed in on her from three sides, and it wasn't such a problem as I 
expected it would be. She bleated a couple of times and jumped sideways and 
fidgeted a little, but she must've been used to being manhandled, because 
she let Pedro and Bessie grab onto her without too much fuss. There was a 
big old cow nearby watching us pretty close-must've been mother-but she 
didn't seem too concerned. So what if her only child was about to get 
diddled by a couple of dirty old men? 

What the hell. 

Pedro got a good arm-lock on the little bastard's neck and Bessie was down 
on the ground underneath her, holding her around the middle. 

"You better get up out of there," I said. "You're gonna get kicked in the 
goddam head." 

She said, "Oh, she wouldn't dream of kicking me. She's so cute. I love her." 
She began stroking the calf tenderly and kissing her ratty hide. "Ooh, I 
wish I could make love to her. Isn't there some way? Ooh man-I want to feel 
her rubbing me all over." 

She hopped up and pulled off her minidress over her head and tossed it away. 
That was it for her, clotheswise. Bessie never wore underwear of any kind. 
Said it was "too confining, and unsanitary besides." So here she was naked 
again-her natural condition. Bessie never passed up any excuse to get naked 
for whatever reason-in public or private. 

She threw herself against the calf now, rubbing her dirty white hide against 
the calf s dirty brown one. She lifted up one long skinny leg and rubbed her 
inner thigh along the calf s hind leg and then squashed her floppy boobs 
down against her flank and ground her nipples against the rough hide. 

"Ooh, this is groovy," she cooed. "Isn't there some way I can make it with 
her? Tell me how. 

There must be something sexy she can do to me." 

Pedro gave her a hard swipe across the ass. "Will you cool it, for 
Chrissakes? I want to see Jack fuck this goddam beast. Isn't that what we 
stopped for? You can get your jollies later. Now grab on there again, will 
you? We gotta hold this mother-fucker still. You're just getting it all 
stirred up with your shit." 

She said, "Well, come on then, Jack. I want to watch this too. Are you gonna 
screw her or not?" 

I said, "The thing is, I don't exactly feel in a hard-on mood right at the 
moment. To tell the truth, I miss the preliminary intimacies of the 
love-making process." 

"Oh shit," Bessie said. "I'll fix that." She came over to me and unzipped my 
fly for me-she was very good at zippers-I think she majored in zippers at 
college-and then I let her pull down my pants and shorts and lit a cigarette 
while she went to work with her hot lips and snaky tongue on my flaccid 
member. It didn't take long. With her fingers at my balls and her mouth 
doing its usual brisk gobble-job on the old weenie, I was hard as a rock 
before I even threw the match away. 

"Why don't we just forget about that fucking heifer?" I said, patting 
Bessie's tousled and verminous head. She was a pig, but a number-one 
blowjobber, that kid. "I'd just as soon carry on with what we're presently 
doing, if it's all the same with you." 

But she let loose of me as soon as I was all the way up and vibrating and 
she dashed back to the calf to grab hold again. 

"Come on," she screamed. "Now that you got it up-use it!" 

I felt like a damn idiot, but what could I do? There I stood in the middle 
of somebody's field with my pants down and a rampaging hard-on shining in 
the sunlight. What else was there to do but fuck a cow? 

I knew it wasn't going to work though. You have to break a young calf in 
gradually. Diddle her with a dildo and all that," before she's ready to take 
a real meat-prick. But I decided I might as well go through the motions of 
it anyhow-put on a show for these jerks. 

"If you want to be helpful," I said, "you hold her head, Bessie, and let 
Pedro take her hind legs. You gotta really hang on there if it's gonna work. 
I just don't want to get kicked in the balls, if you don't mind." 

They switched around like I said, in deference to my balls, and then it was 
party-time. "Hold that tiger," I said. "Here I come-ready or not." I kicked 
off my pants and moved in behind the little brown ass, trying to remember 
how I'd seen other kids do it back on the farm. 

First I thought I'd better find a stick or something though, to poke in 
there and sort of try the passageway. 

"Let's go, man," Pedro yelled. "She's getting hot for you already. I can 
feel it." 

I decided I'd just use my hand to test the hole. If I could get a couple of 
fingers inside, that would give me an idea whether I'd have a fighting 
chance at risking my fragile ding-dong in the rump of that treacherous son 
of a bitch. I moved in cautiously, I wasn't really sure whether these 
bastards kicked or not, but I felt awful goddam vulnerable with my weenie 
out in the open air, standing high wide and handsome with no protection 
whatsoever between it and the possible fury of a rampaging beast. 

I began by patting her ever so gently on the flanks and speaking soft 
seductive words. Calm her down-that was the thing. 

"Nice baby. Sweet little heifer. Daddy loves you-yes indeed." What the hell 
do you say to a calf, anyhow? Everybody knows how to talk to dogs and cats 
and horses. But who ever heard of talking to a cow? Anyhow, she hadn't 
started kicking yet at least. 

"Hold that bastard, whatever you do," I whispered to Pedro. Then I started 
patting and probing down along the crack of her ass. She shivered a little 
when I touched close to home but no major reactions yet. Even when I gave 
her a couple of pats on the pussy-no alarm bells. 

She didn't really flinch until I dug one finger down the inner edges of her 
crease and sort of eased open the outer flaps just a hair. Then she crouched 
down a bit and twitched her tail at me. I gave her another reassuring pat on 
the side of the ass and talked to her some more before I tried digging any 
deeper. I was hoping to hell she wasn't as nervous as I was. 

"What the hell are you doing back there?" Pedro yelled. "Looking for the 
hole?" 

"Sh-h," I said. "Don't spook her, goddammit. You gotta take these things 
slow when you're dealing with a shy young female critter." 

Bessie said, "You never showed all this sweet consideration when you were 
fucking around my rear end. Wham bam is all I ever got." 

I said, "Different cows call for different kinds of handling." i'd let her 
figure that one out. 

She said, "Moo-oo." 

Now I got first one finger up inside her and then two fingers, and I worked 
them in to about the second knuckle and diddled around very carefully. Her 
cunt was soft and warm and wet and slimy-not a hell of a lot different in 
its feel and shape from a woman's pussy. It was sort of like rooting around 
in some big old whore's snatch actually, is what it made me think of. 

I got my whole hand in there finally and started to ease it in and out slow 
and easy, and she was sort of twitching and fidgeting now and swatting hell 
out of me with her tail and trying to shuffle her hind feet, but Pedro had a 
good grip on her. 

Then she started shaking her head up and down and bleating to beat hell, 
"Ma-a-a-ma-a-a!" That did it. Mama got the message and this big 
fierce-looking black and white cow took a couple of steps our way and let 
out a moo that would wake the dead. 

Bessie squealed and yelled, "Watch it! I think she's coming for us." 

"You're a woman," I said. "You talk to her. Tell her it's okay." 

Bessie yelled at the cow, "Moo-oo-mo-oo!" 

That seemed to confuse her and she backed off again. 

Pedro laughed. "Whatever you said to her, it must've been the right thing." 

I figured now was the time if I ever was to get it into this little fucker's 
cunt and be done with it. "Hang on, you bastards," I said. "Hang on. Here 
goes nothing." 

I stepped up behind the calf, gave my prick a couple of hard strokes to firm 
it up, and then laid it on that little slit right where my fingers had been 
and eased the head of it very carefully inside. It went in as easy as the 
fingers had. I felt the warm soft snatch clutch onto it-a real pleasant 
feeling actually. I began to think that this might turn out to be a groovier 
piece of action than maybe I'd figured on, once I got all the way in. I put 
the pressure on and pushed forward from the hips as hard as I could, but 
slow and easy still, and inch-by-inch that sweet little cow-twat swallowed 
my prick right up to the goddam root. 

"Hey man, I'm in!" I said. 

"Pump her-pump her, goddammit," Pedro hollered. 

I gave it a couple of easy pokes and then started riding it in and out 
quicker and quicker as I worked into a groove. Now the calf began twitching 
like she had the itch-shuddering all over-and she was raising a hell of a 
racket. "Ma-a-a-ma-a-a! ! " or words to that effect. 

And then,, by God, it seemed like every fucking cow in the whole fucking 
field started bellowing all at once. Jee-zus, what a racket! 

I was beginning to get warm feelings in the gonads about then and so I 
pumped all the harder, trying to get my nuts off before something happened 
to interrupt things, but I didn't quite make it. All of a sudden everything 
happened at once. The heifer freaked-out completely and in one violent twist 
she broke free from Pedro's arms and my prick all at the same time. I wound 
up with my pecker hanging loose in the open air, halfway to orgasm, and I 
got a wicked kick on the kneecap besides, that damn near broke my fucking 
leg. 

The calf went prancing off away from me with Bessie still hanging onto her 
neck, all sprawled out, her legs flying in the air, screeching bloody 
murder. 

Pedro was yelling to her, "Let go! Let go!" But she was hanging on with a 
death-grip, scared shitless. 

With all the cows in the damn field starting to mill around now-every one of 
them bellowing their heads off-it looked like we were about to get caught in 
the middle of the god-damndest stampede you ever saw. 

And then the final blow. "Oh shit!" Pedro yelled. "There's a truck coming up 
the hill. Let's get the fuck out of here!" 

There sure was a truck. A little pickup with at least three men in it, 
coming to find out who the hell was raping their cows. I made a grab for my 
pants and started running and trying to pull them on all at the same time. 

Pedro was yelling, "Wait! Wait for Bessie!" 

I'm thinking, Fuck Bessie. If we got caught, I was the sucker that was gonna 
get hung for this little caper. So I kept running as fast as I could with my 
drooping drawers and my busted kneecap, and once I got the pants up and 
fastened I made it to the car with plenty to spare. The only trouble was, 
Pedro had gone back to rescue Bessie and he had the car-keys in his goddam 
pocket. 

So what could I do? The guys from the truck had already grabbed bare-ass 
Bessie. She was giving them a pretty good battle and screeching her head 
off, but they had her captured and Pedro too. The game was up, as they say. 

So I took a deep breath and said a prayer and then started back up the 
pasture to join the crowd. All I was hoping was that those guys hadn't 
noticed me screwing their calf. Farmers don't take kindly to that shit-I 
know from experience. A man might have his dick into his own cows and sheep 
and pigs and every other damn animal in sight, but he doesn't like anybody 
else messing around his livestock-anymore than he wants them screwing his 
wife or daughter. 

But they'd seen me at it all right. They'd been watching us the whole time 
with binoculars, the goddam perverts, and they had me dead to rights. They 
could've locked up my ass and thrown away the key forever if they'd wanted 
to press it. But lucky for me they turned out to be reasonable men. 

They took what money we had on us to pay for "damages" and beyond that they 
settled for one hump apiece with Bessie. I guess they figured that we'd 
fucked their cow and so now it was their turn to fuck ours. 

Pedro put up a fuss about it, but they told him it was either that or jail. 
We'd already tried jail one time and we didn't want to go through that shit 
again. Anyhow, I didn't hear any serious objections from Bessie about paying 
her forfeit. Any time that chick could save her ass from trouble just by 
giving somebody a fast hump or a suck-off, she figured she was getting off 
easy. 

It was sundown when we finally wrapped up and got the hell out of there. The 
cows were all back in the barn with their lawful guardians, having their 
udders jerked and squeezed and submitting to who knows what other acts of 
bestial depravity. 

Nobody in our crowd was talking much. 

Finally I said, "Man, we were lucky to get out of there as easy as we did. 
I've known cow-fuckers to get put away for ten years or more back home. 
That's no laughing matter around farm country. The next time you 
motherfuckers want to see somebody screw a cow, include me out-okay?" 

Pedro mumbled, "Those goddam hillbilly pricks. They had no right to act like 
that. They're nothing but a bunch of animals themselves, raping a helpless 
girl that way. If they hadn't had that gun with them, by God, I'd have beat 
the crap out of them." 

Bessie said, "What's everybody bitching about? Everything worked out great 
in the end, didn't it?" 

And I guess that was true as far as she was concerned. She'd got what she 
craved out of it, that was for sure. And just to round off her day-since I 
never had got to finish my business with that heifer-I let Bessie polish off 
my prick there on the back seat in her own inimitable way. Her cunt didn't 
exactly clamp down and grab hold of my member the way the calf s did, but 
screwing Bessie's friendly fuck-hole was a hell of a lot less nerve-racking 
experience-that's for sure. 

And since that time all the beasts I've put it into have been the two-legged 
human variety-you can bet your sweet ass on that. As far as I'm concerned, 
animals are for the birds. 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Birds in general would seem to be un likely candidates for human 
sex-partners, but there is hardly a living creature that walks, swims or 
flies that men (and women) have not used to gratify their genital itches, 
and birds are no exception. Birds of all sizes have served the bestial 
purpose, from the tiniest songbirds to giant ostriches, penguins at the 
South Pole, and even fierce birds of prey. 

The most famous example from antiquity of apian love is the mythical 
seduction of Leda by the swan (which turned out to be Zeus in 
disguise-surprise surprise!) But in actual history birds have much more 
often been used by men than by women. Around the farmyard this is especially 
true, for most varieties of domestic fowl are capable of taking in a penis 
and affording it the necessary frictions for orgasmic satisfaction. The 
alimentary opening of the bird-the cloaca-serves as a soft, warm, and 
agreeably tight "cunt" for purposes of bird-fucking. The unfortunate 
difficulty is that a man-sized penis is more than even a large bird can take 
inside him without suffering serious internal injury and probably death. So 
a man violating his own chickens would soon deplete his flock, and if he 
were to commit outrage on another man's fowls, he would leave damning 
evidence behind of his crime. 

Krafft-Ebing reported several nineteenth century cases of bird-assaults in 
his book, Psychopathic Sexualis. In one, "a man of high social position" was 
caught red-handed in the act of buggering a chicken. Great numbers of 
chickens had been found dead in the village barnyards over a long period of 
time and an intensive manhunt finally brought the culprit to justice. He 
excused himself in court by pleading that his prick was too small to fuck 
women satisfactorily and he had turned to birds in desperation. 

In another case, a boy of sixteen, when charged with assaulting a goose, 
claimed that he suffered "attacks with heat in his head" during which he 
became so sexually aroused that he couldn't control his raging lusts and 
then he had no memory afterwards of what he had done. 

Krafft-Ebing fails to tell us how these cases were disposed of in the 
courts. Presumably both the guilty men were turned over to psychiatrists for 
study of their "sicknesses." 

The following case history differs from most of the others in this book in 
that it is not a first-person confession of a personal bestial experience. 
The facts related in the account are assembled from various records of the 
subject's career and from the diary of the girl who became involved with 
him-data assembled in preparation of the court case that resulted from the 
affair and its horrifying conclusion. 

 Case 4 Bryan T. 

Bryan was an orphan boy. He spent his early years being shunted about from 
one city foster home to another. Then at age fourteen he was sent to live 
with an elderly couple on a suburban farm. 

He seemed happier on the farm than he had ever been in the city. He had 
always been a "Loner" who feared crowds, and he enjoyed being by himself all 
day long on the quiet farm with no one to disturb his peace. 

He was assigned chores to do around the barnyard, which included feeding the 
large flock of chickens. He found the hen house a perfect hideaway and he 
spent many hours there among the chickens, shut away from the world. 

In his shy and solitary life up to that time, he had had no association with 
girls at all. He felt no particular attraction to them and was very shy in 
their presence, as he was with most other boys as well. His only 
sex-experience was in emotionless mechanical masturbation, apparently 
without any fantasizing in his mind during the act. 

Now in his hen house hideout, he resumed his city habit of prolonged, 
methodical masturbation sessions, manipulating his penis with a wide variety 
of cock-teasing materials held in his hand. In the city he had made use of 
fur-pieces, foam rubber scraps, and wads of modeling clay, among other 
things, in his prick-fondling rituals. On the farm he first tried 
masturbating while holding a wad of chicken feathers in his hand, and that 
led to the idea of actually holding a live chicken against himself and 
rubbing his prick-head on her downy breast, or perhaps squeezing off 
underneath her wing. 

These tries proved disappointing however, and it was not until several days 
later that he got the idea of trying to poke his penis up into the chicken's 
"egg-laying hole." This idea, which he imagined that no one had ever thought 
of before, occurred to him during the night while he lay in his bed, and he 
crept downstairs and out of the house to the chicken yard to put it to 
immediate test. 

In the dark hen house he plucked a dozing pullet off her perch and began 
probing her underside with his fingers, looking for the entry-way that had 
to be there, but the outraged bird raised such a clatter of protest, 
stirring up all the other chickens in the coop to a considerable clucking 
uproar, that the old man was awakened and he came hurrying down to the yard, 
expecting to catch a chicken thief in the act. Bryan escaped into the barn 
undiscovered and hid out there until his foster father had gone back to bed. 
Then he crept back to the house, discouraged for the moment in his plan. 

But the next day, as soon as the old man had left on his daily trip to town, 
Bryan hurried to the chicken house to try his luck again at the great 
experiment. He knew that the old lady was too deaf to hear anything that 
went on, no matter how much noise the chickens made. 

He picked out a fat Rhode Island Red, found the cavity he was looking for, 
and with some difficulty worked the head of his prick up inside. 

The bird struggled violently, but Bryan held her fast and slowly plunged the 
full length of his eager cock up into the warm, throbbing guts of the 
squirming chicken. He felt an excitement greater than he had ever known 
before in any masturbation experiment, and as he thrust in and out of the 
bird, her wings beating against his groin and balls added extra zest to the 
business and he came quickly to orgasm. 

As soon as he had shot off his load inside the chicken he released her, but 
she dropped down at his feet and lay there, fluttering more and more feebly. 
Bryan realized for the first time then that he had done serious damage to 
the bird's inner organs and that he had better dispose of it. So he killed 
it with a rock and then dropped the body down into an abandoned well where 
no one could ever find it. 

He was frightened and sorry at having killed the chicken, and for several 
days afterwards he lived in fear that someone somehow would find out what he 
had done. Above all he did not want to be sent back to the city again and so 
he vowed to himself that he would take no more reckless chances and never 
bother the chickens again. 

But then, as more days passed and life went on as usual, he began to realize 
that there were far too many chickens in the flock for the loss of one or 
two to be noticed. And the voluptuous experience of fucking the warm, 
throbbing body had been too much of a rare pleasure not to repeat. 

So he did it again that same afternoon, trying to be more gentle in his 
penetration and so not to injure the bird this time, but the end result was 
the same. Again he threw the body down into the old well-shaft. 

After that it became a regular habit. He fucked at least one chicken a day 
and sometimes two. Since he realized now that the penetrated chickens could 
never survive the act, he no longer tried to be gentle with them, but got 
more and more enjoyment out of fucking each bird with greater and greater 
violence, thrusting his prick in and out with all his force and at the same 
time tearing out handfuls of feathers and squeezing and wrenching its neck 
about. Sometimes he would break the chicken's neck or cut its throat while 
he was still in the process of fucking it and continue ramming into the 
dying carcass while it quivered and thrashed about in its death throes. 

He had no idea whether or not the old man had noticed that his chicken flock 
had dwindled in numbers, but he overheard him one day telling his wife that 
"there's gotta be a chicken thief sneaking around here nights. We're gonna 
have to get us a big, noisy dog." 

Then an unexpected complication entered the picture. The old man's 
sixteen-year-old niece came to stay at the farm for the summer. Deanna was a 
great, uninhibited girl and she tried hard to make friends with Bryan. He 
was terrified of her however and avoided her as much as possible. 

But she was the kind of bold person who has no understanding or respect for 
shyness in others and she chased after him wherever he went and drove him 
into a state of panic. He had never known anyone in all his life who cared 
enough about him to want to pursue him for any reason. Everyone had always 
ignored and avoided him, and he had adjusted to that situation and assumed 
that it would always be so. 

Even in his sacred hen house sanctuary he was not safe from her insistent 
pursuit. She soon discovered that Bryan spent most of his days hiding there 
and she teased him about it and gave him no peace from then on. 

"What do you see in those stupid chickens?" she said to him. "I think you're 
in love with them or something." 

He had no chance anymore to indulge his chicken-raping habit, as Deanna was 
always about and she would have heard the commotion in the hen house and 
come to see what he was up to. 

So, cut off from his sexual pleasure and under constant harassment from the 
pesky girl, he grew more and more nervous and desperate, while he joylessly 
masturbated in his room. 

But then, to his great delight and relief, Deanna began going to town with 
her uncle on his daily trips and all of a sudden Bryan was alone with his 
chickens again and free to resume his bestial pleasures. 

For the next few days he enjoyed frantic ecstatic orgasms-greater than ever 
before-and five more chicken carcasses wound up down in the well. 

But then, one horrible day, he was just commencing his mad morning 
lust-ritual in the hen house, kneeling naked on the floor, fitting his 
straining prick up into one more protesting cloaca, when a shrill feminine 
whoop of surprise split the air, and with sick horror he saw Deanna's big 
blue goggle-eyes peeping through the slats of the wall, spying on his 
shameful game. 

He let loose the chicken and sank down weakly in the straw, uttering a 
pathetic moan of dismay. He assumed that this was the absolute end of the 
world for him. 

But Deanna, it turned out, was more amused than shocked. She came bursting 
into the hen house. 

"Wow!" she cried. "This is freaky. I never would've imagined." 

Bryan only crouched where he was, staring glassy-eyed, his erection slowly 
subsiding. 

"Hey man, don't waste that meat-bone on the chickens," Deanna gurgled. "I 
got better uses for it," 

She swiped at his prick with her foot. He fell back into a sitting position 
and began to cry. 

Deanna was astonished. She assured him he had nothing to worry about-that 
she certainly wasn't about to tell anybody what he was on to. 

"Everybody to their own thing, man," she said. 

She managed to calm him down and then to his utter amazement and horror she 
suddenly pulled off her dress and confronted him in a nipple-revealing bra 
and g-string panty. 

She declared herself in on the fun and games from that day forward. She said 
that she was going to show him what his prick was really intended for by 
Mother Nature, and she gave him the impression that she still might squeal 
on him to her uncle if he didn't cooperate and do whatever she told him to 
do from there on out. She tossed away her bra and directed him first to kiss 
her breasts and lick the nipples. He did so, even though his stomach was 
churning with disgust and near-nausea at the thought of it. 

Then she insisted that he kiss her mouth, and when she forced his lips apart 
and thrust her wriggling tongue inside, he pulled back his head violently 
and turned away from her, retching and sobbing again. 

She laughed uproariously, delighted with his 'freaky' behavior. 

"You're priceless," she told him. "Am I gonna have a ball with you!" 

Completely stripped now, she forced him to kneel at her feet and raise up 
his lips, and then she straddled his face and pressed her hot wet pussy down 
hard over his mouth. 

"Kiss it," she demanded. "Go ahead. Make believe it's a sexy chicken and 
kiss it." 

He was nearly hysterical by then with the horror of her actions and so she 
released him for the time being, but she warned him that she expected more 
services from him the next morning and every morning thereafter until he had 
learned to do all the things that gave her pleasure. And she promised him 
his share of unbelievable delights too if he cooperated. But no more fucking 
around with those filthy chickens, she warned him, or she'd let everyone 
know what a queer jerk he was and he'd be one sorry son of a bitch. 

The next morning at breakfast she frightened him out of his mind by 
innocently asking her uncle, "Can human beings make love with chickens? 
Somebody told me that they could." 

The old lady gasped and her uncle pounded his fist on the tabletop. "That 
will be enough of that talk! Who's been putting these nasty thoughts into 
your mind?" 

"I-I heard a boy in school say he did it," she said, giggling. 

"No more!" the old man roared. "A young lady does not permit her ears to 
hear such conversation." 

Bryan said not a word, but he got the message intended. As soon as the old 
man took off in the truck for town he went to the hen house, sick at heart, 
to meet Deanna and do his obscene penance. 

She was already there, already naked, lying in a heaped-up bed of chicken 
feathers, holding a chicken between her thighs and rubbing it up and down in 
the cleft of her crotch. 

"Come on in, baby," she greeted him. "Pull up a chicken and sit down. 
Personally these birds don't do a thing for me. I must not be doing it 
right. I need advice from an expert." 

He stood uncomfortably against the wall, his eyes cast down, unable to look 
on her nakedness without shuddering. 

"Don't just stand there," she said. "Take off your clothes. I like to see 
you the way you were yesterday. I dig your body, Bryan baby." 

After he stripped nude she taunted him about his flaccid prick. 

"What's wrong, baby? You can get it up for a chicken but not for a super 
sex-bomb like me? Look at me. Look at me, dammit!" She thrust her 
stark-white boobs within an inch of his face and shook them vigorously. 
"Doesn't that turn you on, chicken-fucker? Ever see a chicken with a pair of 
boobs like that? " 

He had shut his tear-filled eyes and covered his face with his hands, but 
she tore his hands away and pressed her breasts onto his face, squashing 
them down flat, grinding her knobby nipples into his cheeks and against his 
eyelids. 

"What's wrong with you? What's wrong?" she screamed. Then she grabbed his 
prick in her hand and yanked it disdainfully. "Get hard! HARD-HARD, damn 
you!" 

In a fury she picked up a chicken and flung it at him. "Here! Fuck a damn 
chicken. Let me see you do it, if that's the only thing that turns you on." 

She ordered him to demonstrate his hen-fucking act for her, but in his 
agitated state of mind, even with the chicken he found it impossible to make 
his prick come stiff enough to penetrate the bird. 

"All right, then," she cried, "if you can't fuck me and you can't fuck a 
chicken, what the fuck can you fuck? Isn't there any way you can do it? 
You'll suck my pussy-that's what. Anybody can do that. Even you." 

She sat on the chicken perch with her legs apart and she made Bryan kneel 
before her and perform a long and very thorough job of cunnilingus upon her. 
While he did so she told him a fanciful story, improvised on the spot, of a 
boy she had known who was caught fucking a chicken and sent to the 
reformatory for nine years. Meekly Bryan did everything she demanded-licking 
and nibbling her clitoris and tongue-fucking her slit as per her explicit 
directions. 

Then she had a sudden burst of curiosity. "I wonder if a little sucky-suck 
would do miracles on that dead-ass prick of yours." 

She hopped down from her perch, stood him up in the same spot, and knelt 
before him to try her luck at oral-genital organ-raising. 

She skinned his prick-head and tickled it with her fingers. "That reach you 
at all?" she asked him. "Tell me if I hit a nerve or anything. There's gotta 
be some life on this cold bleak planet." 

Then she gave his prick a quick tongue-teasing all around its head while 
fluttering her fingers over the shaft, and very quickly, to the amazement of 
both of them, his shriveled cock leaped into life, stretching and stiffening 
to full erection. 

"Eureka!" she cried. "Give me a medal." She sucked and teased him a bit 
more, soaking the whole length of his prick with saliva, taunting him 
between mouthing, and then she jumped up all of a sudden. 

"Okay-vow the chicken. Now that you got your hard up, I want to see you fuck 
that damn chicken. Go to it, baby. I bought my ticket-now I want to see the 
show." 

In a trembling sweat Bryan caught up one of the hens and before her 
fascinated eyes he began his ritual of cloacal penetration, but very 
cautiously and as gently as possible. He hoped desperately that somehow, 
miraculously, this time the bird would survive the assault unhurt. He had a 
horrible fear that if the chicken died with Deanna as a witness, that would 
be a foretelling of his own doom. 

But it was obvious before he made half a dozen thrusts into the bird that it 
was already in its death agonies. He pumped more rapidly then, anxious to be 
done with the terrible business, and as soon as he felt his orgasm coming on 
he yanked himself free, flung the bird away from him, and stood wretchedly 
before Deanna, sobbing while his prick spurted its last shots onto the 
floor. 

She laughed and applauded. "Wow! Groovy! You ought to take that show on the 
road. Be very big on the college circuit and in small towns." 

Then she noticed for the first time the buggered chicken's mortally wounded 
state as it thrashed feebly at her feet. 

"What's wrong with the damn hen?" she said. She knelt and looked at it 
closely in horror and disgust. "Agghr, that's gruesome! You killed it. Do 
they always die like that?" 

Then she raised the question of what he had done with the dead remains of 
all the other chickens he had "murdered" and he reluctantly led her to the 
old well. She was aghast when she saw the ugly sight down in the 
shaft-dozens of rotting chicken bodies heaped up, the whole ugly mess a 
swarm with flies. 

"You're a MURDERER," she screamed at him. "A sex-murderer. You should be 
locked up. 

From then on she treated him with absolute contempt, heaping scorn on him 
day and night, causing her uncle to scold her for being "so mean to that 
poor orphan boy." 

In the hen house each day she subjected him to every sexual humiliation she 
could think of, as well as painful paddlings with a fence slat and long 
sessions of forced cunnilingus. And there were hardly five minutes in the 
day when she was not reminding him that he was a hen-fucker-a sex pervert-a 
murderer-and assuring him that it was only a matter of time before she would 
let the whole world know about it. One of these days, she promised him over 
and over again, "they" are going to come and drag you away. 

In the presence of the uncle and aunt she would paralyze him with a remark 
like, "Whatever happened to that sort of spotty hen with the dragging wing? 
She just disappeared somehow. Do some of the hens just fly away or what 
happens to them?" and another time, "Don't you think you ought to fill in 
that old dry well down below the pasture, Uncle Robert? It seems dangerous 
to me. You should really go down and look at it. I think you'd be surprised 
at how scai-y it looks." 

Several of the diary entries later became part of the trial record in the 
case. The following excerpt provides a vivid account of one particularly 
ugly incident and shows the extreme depths of depravity which their sick 
relationship had reached just before the final tragedy. 

"I really socked it to the freak today. And he took it like always, the 
jerk. He's beginning to make me puke and that's no shit. He's got no more 
guts than the fucking chickens! 

"I remembered that a boy showed me once how you could stroke a horse's crack 
under the ass-hole just a certain way and it would loosen up his sphincters 
or some such thing and he'd piss. I asked the kid why anybody would want to 
make a horse piss and he didn't know. But yesterday I thought about it for 
some reason and it gave me a new idea for something to do to the freak. 

"I took him into the barn where Colonel Dobie is-the old black nag I used to 
ride when I was little. Then I made him lie down naked in Dobie's stall, 
right in the horseshit and everything. I told him if he moved one muscle, no 
matter what happened, then there was going to be a guided tour to the old 
well for my aunt and uncle and I wasn't shitting him. I got him so scared 
shitless now that he'd jump off the windmill in a swan dive if I told him 
to. 

"I made him lie with his face right underneath Dobie's ass-end so he'd get 
the whole shower of piss right in the mush when it happened. Then I started 
in on Dobie, giving him the strategic tickle. It didn't seem to work at 
first. I guess the old nag's urogenital reactions ain't what they used to 
be. But then she shivered her ass one time and all of a sudden the flood 
gates opened. I mean old Dobie must've been holding it in since Wednesday. 

"I nearly got myself splashed before I could get out of the stall and then I 
just stood there laughing like a bastard. The freak nearly drowned. Groovy 
bit, hey? Drowning in horse piss! 

"But he survived. Drenched down to his knees and choking and spitting and 
blinking his eyes, but he survived. 

" 'How's it taste?' I asked him. 'I didn't put too much salt in it, did I?' 

"He couldn't have talked even if he'd had anything to say. I made him stay 
there and soak in the puddle for awhile before I told him he could get up. 
And even then he didn't, but just lay there with a dumb look on his face-as 
if he liked it, reclining in a piss-puddle. 

"Twice I told him to get his ass up, but he didn't even act like he heard me 
and finally I just took off and left him there. He's getting weirder and 
weirder, I'm telling you. It's unbelievable!" 

The last entry of all in the diary shows the state of Deanna's mind at the 
very end-the night before the blowup. 

"I'm going to have to cool it with the freak. He's right on the thin edge 
now. I think maybe I went too far. Maybe the pissing bit was too much, 
although he didn't make any fuss about it at the time. He's got a look in 
his eye now though that gives me the creeps. He never used to dare even look 
at me at all and now I notice him staring at me in the house, at dinner and 
all. It's getting to be a drag anyway, this whole fucking scene. This farm 
is beyond the ass-end of nowhere. Only 2 weeks more and back to civilization 
again. What a load off! Back to normal people again. Rainey and Coral won't 
believe it when I tell them about the freak. Once I get the hell out of this 
shit-pile I probably won't believe it myself either. 2 more weeks! I wish it 
was tomorrow. I better tell the freak tomorrow that it's bye bye. He doesn't 
know yet that I'm leaving. Won't he be surprised! He'll be inconsolable. I 
wonder what he'll give me for a goodbye gift, (pause here for prolonged 
laughter)" 

What happened the next day was never established indisputably as to the 
exact course of events. But piecing together portions of court testimony and 
other data brought out during psychiatric investigations, the following 
would seem to be an accurate summing-up of the events of the day after the 
above diary entry. 

In the morning Deanna was unusually pleasant to Bryan at the breakfast 
table-this noted with surprise by both aunt and uncle. 

At the end of the meal Deanna said that she wanted to be of more help to 
Bryan from then on, and starting today she was going to help him take care 
of the chickens. She thought the hen house would benefit from a "woman's 
touch." 

They all laughed except Bryan, who hurried out of the house and was not seen 
again the rest of the morning. 

When her uncle left for town as usual, Deanna told her aunt that she was 
going out to look for Bryan-that she had some things to tell him. She never 
came back. 

It seems that she went to the hen house to confront Bryan but she never got 
a chance to tell him anything. The instant she came through the doorway he 
hit her diagonally across the forehead with the sharp edge of a spade and 
knocked her to the floor, and then he hit her a second blow, harder than the 
first, behind the ear. She was still alive but unconscious after the second 
blow. 

From then on Bryan apparently vented all his enormous store of pent-up 
resentment upon her body for a considerable time-perhaps an hour or more. He 
kicked and stomped her savagely, breaking several ribs and many teeth in the 
process and virtually pulverizing her facial features. Then he ripped away 
her clothes and subjected her nude body to further beating and abuse. At 
some point after her death he committed rape upon the corpse. This 
ironically was the first and only time in his life that he had ever engaged 
in "normal" vaginal intercourse with Deanna or any other human female. 

Afterwards he hacked the body apart and chopped it into a great many small 
pieces, which he stuffed into two burlap sacks and carried to the old well. 
There he dumped Deanna's dismembered remains down into the well-shaft among 
the bones of the thirty-seven chickens. 

But not before performing one last act of outrage upon her bloody parts. He 
held two raw chunks of her flesh in his hands, pressed them around his penis 
and masturbated one more time. 

Then at last his raging fury had run its course and all his energy had 
drained away with it. He dragged himself back up the hill toward the hen 
house, but halfway across the pasture he collapsed, and there his uncle 
discovered him later that afternoon, lying on his back in a glassy-eyed 
trance, his body drenched with blood. 

A jury found him innocent of murder by reason of insanity, and Bryan 
probably will spend the rest of his life in the mental institution where he 
is now. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

A young friend of mine, when he heard I was surveying the subject of 
bestiality, suggested that I check out a freaky chick of his acquaintance 
who had been known to perform wild stunts with a small dog at parties and 
other social gatherings. I looked into the matter and came across Julia, a 
beautiful twenty-ish fugitive from the love-generation. She had dropped out 
of high school and split from home at seventeen and in the two or three 
years since then had set some kind of world's record for number and variety 
of sexual couplings on her whirl-wind wanderings-making the grand tour of 
hippy colonies and crash-pads from coast to coast. She was presently 
reported to be living as a "voluntary white slave" with a pair of unemployed 
black poets. 

 Case 5 Julia C. 

I was introduced to Julia in a luncheonette booth where she was surrounded 
by a motley collection of her friends and fans of all ages, sexes and 
colors. 

"I hear you wanted to interview me," she said. 

"What's it for?" somebody asked, "Indoor Sports Illustrated?" 

They all seemed to think that was pretty funny. I didn't know just how to 
approach the subject I had in mind to her. Even without the crowd in 
attendance and in spite of her wild reputation, I couldn't very well ask a 
strange girl bluntly, "Is it true that you fuck dogs at parties?" 

I tried to arrange a private interview session with her for a later time but 
the best I could get from her in her dreamy high condition was an invitation 
to "see me at the bash tonight." I figured I'd have to settle for that for 
the time being. At the "bash" maybe I'd be able to corner her and get her 
talking, or maybe I'd even get to see her do her famous dog act in person if 
I was lucky. 

It turned out to be no ordinary party but a staged affair, specially set up 
to be filmed for an underground movie. I felt a bit freaky myself when I 
walked in, being the only one present in a business suit. The costumes 
generally were pretty far over the line on the nude side-with most of the 
girls covered more by body paint, spangles and pasted-on flowers than by 
clothes. The music was pounding-lights flashing-and everyone dutifully 
writhing about in primitive dance movements while a couple of hairy 
cameramen roamed the floor, shooting orgiastic close-ups of them all, mostly 
at tit and crotch-level. 

I found Julia stretched out flat in a corner, under a cloud of blue 
pot-smoke of her own making. 

"Why aren't you in the movie?" I said, inhaling a cautious noseful of her 
heady exhaust fumes. 

She laughed dreamily. Her big beautiful eyes didn't seem to be quite 
focusing on me. "My big scene comes later," she said. "Stick around." 

She had on an oversized T-shirt like a mini-dress, with a man's necktie 
around the waist as a sash. I got the impression that she was wearing 
nothing at all underneath it, but I couldn't be sure in the dim light. Then 
something stirred behind her and I noticed for the first time a little 
dirty-gray mop of a poodle lying there. He was staring up at me with one 
wide blurry eye and I would have sworn that the dog was as stoned as she 
was. 

"You brought your dog along I see," I said. 

"That's what you came for, isn't it?" she said, "to see the dog act?" 

I laughed nervously. "Did they tell you the subject of my book?" 

"Bestial practices, isn't it? That's my thing, baby. Me and Sir Clarence." 

"Er-what do you-you and Clarence-how do you--? " I didn't know quite how to 
phrase the question. 

"Just hold your water-you'll see for yourself how," she said. 

"Are they actually going to film you and the doger-in action?" I asked. 

"Shit yeh. Why not? It's the grand technicolor climax of the whole 
motherfucking movie." 

"Aren't you afraid of getting in trouble by putting yourself on record that 
way? Making it with a dog is sort of illegal, you know." 

She laughed and patted Clarence's belly. "Everything I do is illegal. It's 
the only way to live." She punctuated her point by blowing a cloud of 
highly-illegal smoke up into my face. 

Just then a very large Afro-American bruiser appeared from nowhere and gave 
me what I took to be an unfriendly size-up. I figured he must be one of the 
poet slave-masters I'd heard about, although he looked more like a middle 
linebacker than a bard. He snapped his fingers at 

Julia. "Come on-up. Let's go. They're ready for you and you ain't ready." 

She sprang up and the dog popped up with her. The black man took hold of her 
T-shirt and peeled it up over her head, which left her naked as a jaybird 
just as I expected. Both her breasts-round and firm and beautiful-had been 
painted blue, and there were arrows running down from them across her ribs 
and belly, pointing towards her pussy, which was shaved bald. Otherwise 
there was just acres and acres of beautiful golden naked skin, as far as the 
eye could see. 

Her black master clapped a possessive hand onto her ass and said harshly, 
"You better not fuck up the deal, baby, or you know what you get." 

She picked up the poodle and hugged it to her breasts. "He'll be all right 
tonight," she said. "He's too stoned to be scared. We'll give them a 
complete show, don't worry." 

"Oh, I ain't worrying, baby," he said, giving her ass cheek a hard grab and 
a twist. "I leave that to you." 

The music had quit now and the lights all of a sudden came up brighter. 
"We're ready for the dog-act," somebody yelled out. 

The black man slapped Julia's ass and she gave me a wink and went skipping 
off into the bright light, clutching her woolly lover tight to her with his 
head perched up between her bobbing boobs. 

I moved off to find myself a seat where I could be out of the way of the 
bustling technicians but still get a good ringside view of whatever act of 
shameless bestiality was about to unfold. 

A character with a handlebar mustache and a purple scarf who I took to be 
the director was at center-stage under a cloud of cigar smoke. 

"Right here," he yelled at Julia in a startling, near-soprano voice. "The 
camera's centered on this spot, so keep your dirtiest action in this area, 
give or take a yard or two." 

Julia moved into the light beside him and they went into a conference 
together, with the director patting and stroking either the dog's head or 
one of her blue boobs-it was hard to tell which from where I stood. Then he 
backed off, leaving her there alone with her little dog. The other kids took 
positions on the floor around her in a semi-circle, acting the part of her 
audience. 

"Okay, baby," the director called out. "As soon as the camera's rolling you 
just go into your thing. We'll keep on shooting continuously-two cameras 
covering the whole scene-long shot and close-up-let's get it all in one 
take." 

"You better!" she said. "Clarence might not hold up if you need retakes. 
He's a one-shot man." 

The director held up his hand and yelled, "Okay, we're rolling-and GO!" 

Julia set the dog down and he trotted away from her, out of the circle of 
light. Then she took a cigarette that someone handed her and struck a 
"prostitute on a street-corner" pose, with hand on outthrust hip. 

A boy came walking in, wearing a large cardboard fig-leaf. He stopped, eyed 
Julia up and down, circled around her once, and then raised up his fig-leaf 
and flipped his red-painted prick at her in a hip-bump. 

She put her nose in the air and turned away from him in scorn. He shrugged, 
bumped his blue ass towards her disdainfully and moved away. 

Then Lord Clarence the poodle came high-stepping in. He stopped just as the 
boy had done, cocked his head and looked her over, and then circled around 
her once. Julia stood absolutely still, ignoring him altogether. 

Clarence moved in close to her feet, sniffed around her for a bit, and then 
all of a sudden he lifted his hind leg, assumed the classic curbside 
posture, and began pissing against her ankle. She still held her position 
but turned her head and glanced down. The dog went on pissing nonchalantly 
until he was finished and then moved away again and sat down nearby to watch 
her. 

Julia looked down at the puddle she was standing in now and she wiggled her 
toes about, sloshing them in the piss-pool. Then she bent down and dipped 
her hands into it and began dabbing her ear-lobes and neck and boobs and 
underarms as if it were some kind of dainty perfume. Finally she put a 
finger into her mouth and licked it, sampling the flavor, and she smiled 
down approvingly at Clarence. He sat up then in a begging position and began 
wagging his tail, and Julia turned sideways and wiggled her tail at him. 

After that they circled around each other a couple more times and then Julia 
got down on hands and knees and they moved in close and sniffed each other's 
noses. Clarence ran around behind her and took a sniff of her ass, and then 
she bent down and did the same thing to him. They were making quite a 
production out of it. It was going to be something brand new for the movies, 
by all indications. And the real action hadn't even begun yet. So far I'd 
have given it an 'R' rating-not recommended for children under sixteen. 

But things got pretty 'X'y from there on. Clarence scurried around behind 
her again and began licking away at her rear-end-ass-hole, cunt, the works. 
After a little bit of that action they reversed positions once again and she 
went to work on the little mutt's hind-quarters. 

The boys with the cameras had moved in now. No more long shots. Everything 
would be in full-screen close-ups from here on apparently. So I moved in 
myself, just beyond the circle of prop spectators, to be sure I didn't miss 
any of the action myself. 

The little poodle was in a sort of spread-legged squat, his hind legs 
trembling, as Julia's pretty pink tongue worked up under the cleft of his 
tail-end. Then she flopped over suddenly onto her back, grabbed onto 
Clarence and pulled him up over her face. With his hind legs straddling her 
cheeks, she proceeded to rain kisses and lip-nuzzlings on his little prick, 
which didn't stay little very long thereafter. She sucked him up to a 
respectable dog-sized erection and then she did a quick flip over onto her 
back and twisted herself around while little Lord Clarence stood patiently 
by, quivering all over in anticipation of the delights to come. She popped 
open her legs with a dramatic flourish, aiming her split pussy point-blank 
at the dog and into the peering eyes of the floor-level cameras. 

She whistled softly and snapped her fingers and Clarence gave a little 
answering yip and then leaped forward up into the V of her sprawled crotch. 
He climbed up over her belly with his front paws, his prick straining 
forward into the cleft below, his tail wagging furiously. 

"Go, man," the director called out, clapping his hands. Already he was 
counting up his profits from this history-making film epic that he saw 
happening before his very cameras. 

But Lord Clarence needed no director to urge him on at this point. He knew 
his part and carried it through without a hitch. Julia didn't have to guide 
him into her. She only laid a hand on the fuzzy topknot of his head and 
patted him affectionately while he squirmed his slim little butt and wormed 
his outthrust prick up into the ready receptacle of her slit. As soon as he 
was well-up inside he began a fast humping, pounding a furious tattoo 
against her. 

Julia spread her legs even wider to an incredible near-180 degree split, 
raised her feet off the floor and kicked out in time with the rapid rhythm 
of Clarence's pumping action. She quivered her ass-cheeks, shook her boobs, 
and pounded out a syncopated counter-beat on the tile floor with the palms 
of her hands. 

"Ohhhh, sock it to me!" she sang. "Drive it home!" 

The cameras were right in there now-inches from the action-blocking my view. 
But I could still see Clarence's pompom-tipped tail wigwagging furiously in 
the air and hear his shrill yips as he drove on toward orgasm. 

Then all of a sudden both cameramen leaped up and backed away. Clarence had 
finally called it quite apparently and now he just lay still where he was, 
up against her belly and still plugged into her passage but obviously past 
his orgasm. Only his tail was still in action, waving in the air feebly but 
triumphantly to celebrate another smash performance under pressure. 

I got up myself, assuming that this was the end of the act, ready to join 
everybody else in a round of applause. But the show wasn't over yet after 
all. There was a grand finale yet to come, and it turned out to be a piece 
of action that I guarantee had never appeared on any motion picture screen 
before in history. 

Julia laid her hands on Clarence's back and held him there and then she 
eased herself up slowly to a squat-then to kneeling-and finally all the way 
up onto her feet, still with the little gray mop of a puppy pressed tight to 
her outthrust belly. 

She stroked his head and bumped her hips against him a couple of times to 
firm up the inside connection. Then she raised first one hand and then the 
other into the air, and lo and behold ! Little Lord Clarence was hanging 
there in thin air, his paws braced against her belly and thighs, but 
supported only by his rigid, bulbous prick, jammed tight up inside her 
tight-clutching cunt. 

She humped her hips again and then did a hula grind, but Clarence never 
budged-he was firmly locked on. Then, smiling broadly, she went into a 
little spread-legged dance step-spinning and gliding about the floor in her 
bizarre poodle pussy-patch. 

It ended finally with her flopping down onto her back again, grabbing hold 
of Clarence, and then the two of them went into a wild final fuck with both 
of them hip-jerking together even more frantically than before, and both of 
them barking, "Yip-yip-yip!" at one another. 

At last Julia let out a wailing shriek, presumably of unbearable orgasmic 
ecstasy, and with that the lights cut off and the show and the film sequence 
were finished. 

And so finally I had seen Julia's fabulous dog-act with my own eyes. And now 
that I'd seen it, I was more eager than ever to interview young Julia and 
find out for myself how a sweet young maid from the country had managed to 
make good as a white slave, drug-freak, and bestial exhibitionist in the big 
city. 

One's first impulse might be to feel sorry for Julia-that such a sweet, 
angelic-looking young doll should have got herself into such a variety of 
sordid messes at such an early age, but after talking with her and hearing 
her own version of her "degradation" process I found that she had a 
remarkably casual attitude toward it all and certainly did not pity herself 
in the least. It may be that she has gone so far out into left field on 
various kinds of drug trips that she just doesn't care what happens anymore. 
But let her tell it as she told it to me. 

Isley-Why should an intelligent and very beautiful girl like yourself submit 
to such body abuse and abasement? Any rational reason? 

Julia-(with a laugh and a shrug) Me and my body are two separate things. My 
head is where I live. Everything's cool and beautiful inside there. The 
things I do with my body are something else again. I use it for kicks-to get 
me around-to earn bread-to give pleasure to others. It's immaterial to me 
what I do with my body-it's nothing sacred to me. Only my mind is sacred. 
Nothing reaches there unless I want it to. 

Isley-But unfortunately your mind is fixed to your body. So if your mind 
wants to go here but your body is being forced to go somewhere else, then 
you have to go with it whether your mind-likes it or not. 

Julia-Oh, but nobody makes me do things I don't want to do. I dig all the 
things that happen to my body. When I freak out other people it freaks me 
out too. 

Isley-How did you get involved in this bestiality business? Was that your 
idea, or did somebody steer you into it? 

Julia-Oh, that was the cats I'm living with now. They made me do it 
once-trying to humiliate me. That was before they found out that it's 
impossible to do. You can't humiliate my body-I dig everything. Especially 
if it's some thing that nobody else would do. 

Isley-These men you live with are both black, aren't they? Do you dig black 
men especially? 

Julia-Not particularly. I'll tell you how I got into that. I met this one 
boy, Courtland, at a party and he started giving me a lecture about snooty 
white bitches. I just laughed and told him he was wrong-I didn't give a shit 
if he was green or purple. 

He said, "You wouldn't date me though. You wouldn't sleep with me." 

So I went with him just to prove he was wrong-prove it to myself too, I 
guess. But even after I slept with him he couldn't get over these hang-ups. 
I had to keep proving everything to him. I sucked his prick-I swallowed his 
come-I ate his ass-hole. 

Isley-All this just to prove you weren't prejudiced? 

Julia-No, I would've done it for anybody that asked me. I told you, I dig 
doing whatever anybody thinks I won't do. Courtland really flipped me. I'd 
never met anyone so hard to convince-so paranoid. I was feeling groovier and 
groovier all the time and he was getting more and more frustrated because he 
couldn't find the place where I'd draw the line. So then he started slapping 
me around to work off his aggressions and he told me that he wasn't going to 
let me go home. He was keeping me around his pad just for kicks. I told him, 
groovy! I got no place else to go. 

Isley-How about getting beaten up? Did you dig that too? 

Julia-Aside from helping him work off steam, it did sort of turn me on too, 
strange as it may sound. I never had been really treated rough-most guys 
treat me too nice all the time. That gets to be a drag. Getting manhandled 
that way for once really lit my fire. From then on he punched me around 
every now and then when he'd get uptight and he'd lay into me with a belt 
sometimes too. He told me he was gonna pay me back for all the black people 
in history that had been beaten on by whites. That made it all the groovier 
for me-connecting it up with history and racial guilt that way. 

Since then it's been real groovy for me with him all the way. No matter what 
happens-everything I do for him is paying off installments on our debt to 
the black race. 

It doesn't work for him though unfortunately. I guess the fun in being 
master over somebody is in seeing them suffer. I know it makes him madder 
than hell that no matter what he does to me I always seem to enjoy it. 

Isley-How did this second black man come into the picture? 

Julia-Well, Courtland-always looking for a new hassle to lay on me-tried to 
spook me one night by threatening to invite all his friends in for a 
gang-bang on me. I laughed and said, "Wowhee-groovy!" 

That made him even madder and he started right in calling up all the cats he 
knew, but the only one he could get hold of was E.I. He told E.I., "Come on 
over, man. I got a blonde cunt here that's hot for it." 

So E.I. came over and he balled me pretty good and after Courtland had told 
him everything about me, he invited himself to move in and hake over 
half-ownership. It was all the same with me. Since then E.I. has been pretty 
much taking care of me on the business end. 

Isley-Who supports this cozy little household? 

Julia-Well, the two guys make bread mostly by loaning me out to their 
friends. E.I. is the businessman of the crowd. He's always thinking up new 
ways to cash in on me. And we do all right for ourselves, I gotta admit. 

Isley-Don't either of them ever work? 

Julia-Well, they're poets, you know. That doesn't pay off too good. The 
things I do pay better than the things they do. It's as simple as that. 
Sometimes E.I. works with me in a fuck-show and then we both make bread for 
that. 

Isley-Is that how the dog act started-as a way to make money? 

Julia-Not exactly. Clarence is E.I.'s dog, and he already had the dog 
trained to lick his prick just for private pleasure. Then he taught him to 
lap my pussy and made me suck the dog too. One night when we were all stoned 
they got the dog to actually screw me for the first time. It worked so good 
that we began showing it off to other kids we knew for kicks and gradually 
from there it sort of developed bit by bit into the act that I do now. 

But I didn't ever do it in public shows until one night when E.I. and I were 
putting on a sex-exhibition for this businessmen's party. We sixty-nined and 
stood on our heads and fucked and all our usual shit like that. After we 
were done they all wanted an encore, but E.I. was fucked out and couldn't 
cut it. So I said, "Hey, how about if I do the dog thing, man?" 

And that's how it started. Me and Clarence have been knocking them dead ever 
since. 

Isley-And now you're a movie star besides. Being at the pinnacle of show 
business success at last, what do you see in your future? 

Julia-Ooh, we're all going to Africa. Kenya, Isley-Planning to do your dog 
act in the Nairobi opera house? 

Julia-E.I. thinks we could actually do it in nightclubs over there in some 
of those countries. He says those cats flip over blonde chicks over there. 
We're gonna get a monkey or a baby lion even maybe and work out a whole big 
sex-scene with different kinds of animals. About four big black men and 
me-the white goddess-and then these animals-all together-WOW-won't that be 
wild? 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Of all the readily-available animals found around the farm, probably the pig 
is the one that the outsider would be least likely to call "Loveable." In 
our jokes and imaginings about barnyard bestiality, we usually picture a 
sheep, a cow, a goat, or perhaps a horse as the animal partner. Surely no 
man or boy, even one so depraved as to pollute himself by bestial practices, 
would be attracted to such an ugly, smelly, filthy-wallowing, swill-eating 
beast as a pig. 

But farm boys know better. When allowed to live in decent conditions, a pig 
is one of the cleanest of all animals. When he is made a special pet like 
Lil Abner's Salomi, he is loyal and warmly affectionate. Rochelle Owens' 
off-Broadway hit play Futz dealt with a young man who carried on a love 
affair with his pet pig, and it has now been made into a technicolor movie, 
probably the first picture ever made for theatrical release on the subject 
of bestiality. 

Persons who have had a close association with pigs tell us that they are 
among the most intelligent of all domestic animals, possessing the lively 
curiosity of the cat, and above all that they are veritable bottomless wells 
of sexual passion, who will with a little practice become ardent sex 
partners for human beings. 

The man in the following case grew up on a farm but never had any bestial 
sex relations at any time except for one minor incident with another boy who 
induced him to smear molasses on his penis and allow a heifer to lick it 
off. But there was not even an orgasm on that occasion. 

However when he was a student at a Midwestern agricultural college, he went 
through a bizarre bestiality experience with two "pigs" as part of a 
fraternity initiation rite. He tells about it in his own words. 

 Case 6 Terry B. 

No need to mention the frat by name, or the school. They may still be using 
the same initiation gimmick for all I know. I've been out of touch with them 
lately so I don't really know. 

It was a hell of a trick they pulled on us, and then I helped them to pull 
off the same gag on new pledges myself. A couple of guys balked at doing it, 
but nobody ever blew the whistle on us. 

To get right to the point, I had been accepted into the fraternity and all 
that was left was the formality of the initiation. I'd heard it was a real 
doozy-very different from what any other frat put you through. But I wasn't 
too nervous about it So you get your ass paddled or some such juvenile shit. 
No big deal. There were fifteen of us new pledges and I figured I could 
stand anything the other guys could. 

So came the night and we all gathered at the frat house. We went through a 
lot of bullshit rituals at first-bowing down-reciting sacred pledges-signing 
our names in blood-and so on. But that was all what I expected more or less. 

What came afterwards was the gas! They sat us down and said we had passed 
all tests so far and now we were going to be entertained. 

"We got a young pig here from the Brass Cat," the man said. That was a 
downtown striptease bar that most of us were too young to be allowed into. 
"This pretty little pig is going to dance for your enjoyment and education, 
leaving nothing to the imagination, and then when she's finished you all 
will have a chance-each and every one of you-to enjoy a little pig-fucking 
for yourself in the adjacent bedroom. Before you are accepted as a 
full-fledged member and fraternity brother in this house, you must prove to 
the watchful eyes of our fornication and buggery committee that you are 
worthy cocksmen to live up to our high traditions and campus-wide 
reputation." 

"Well, at that point we didn't get the significance of the word "pig" in 
what he was saying. We assumed that he was referring to some fat old whore 
with warts that would come out and shake her blubbery ass and then lie down 
and open up her tunnel for everybody to fuck. 

But there turned out to be a couple of real big surprises. First of all the 
dancer came prancing out, and you wouldn't have called this a pig by any 
stretch of the imagination. She was a gorgeous young chick-looked like a 
college kid-and boy she really set our mouths watering. To think we were 
going to see this chubby little honey take it all off and shake her 
beautiful paraphernalia in our direction, and then afterwards spread it on 
the sheets for our shafting pleasure was a powerful bit of good news. And 
some surprise! We'd been expecting a rough ordeal at this initiation and it 
was turning out to be candy and cake. 

She was just a little peanut of a girl-short and squatty-but she was round 
and bulgy all over, especially in the boob department. And her ass was a 
sight to see besides-sweet little round, fat cheeks. She was only wearing a 
little stringy belt on her hips that didn't cover a damn thing down in those 
parts, and a stringy bra up top with the cups cut out of it. So she might as 
well have been bare-ass mother-naked in the first place, since all the 
pretty little pink parts were right out there in the lamplight to be gaped 
at. 

I don't know about the other guys, but she sure got a quick rise out of me. 
Right away she began doing split bumps and high kicks right in our faces and 
there was the cutest little fuzzy blonde pussy you ever saw in your life, 
all gooey wet and warm-looking, flashing dirty invitations at us from a 
couple of feet away. 

I remarked to the kid next to me, "Man, if fucking that is the price I got 
to pay to join this frat, I'm ready to make the supreme sacrifice." 

Man, did she put on a performance! She'd rear back and give us a little 
pussy-split-a little ass-bounce-a little titty-jiggle-throwing it at us from 
five directions at once. Then she'd lean over and dance right down along the 
front row of us, shaking those lardy boobs about an inch from everybody's 
nose. 

"Hot damn, she singed my eyebrows!" one kid said. 

Well, she kept on with that until she had us about ready to cream in our 
pants and then she went whirling off out of the room again and that was the 
end of it. We all groaned and booed and yelled we wanted more. 

The president got up again, holding up his hand for quiet. "Peace, 
men-peace," he said. "Enough of tit-tossing, teasing and titillation. The 
time is come for each and every man here to partake of his share in the 
feast. I'm happy to see that you all found our carefully-selected dancing 
pig so attractive to your eyes. But just to be absolutely sure that everyone 
is satisfied and enjoys a congenial screw, we have brought in a second pig 
to take care of the overflow. Even chubbier and cuddlier than the first. So 
that everybody gets his fair share of the action, some of you will get to 
fuck pig number one and some of you will try the equally luscious 
pussy-passage of pig number two. I trust that all of us, including the two 
very willing pigs, will be more than satisfied here tonight." 

At that point some of the smarter guys in the crowd were beginning to smell 
out the gag. All that talk about a "second pig" gave them the clue, or at 
least that's what they claimed afterwards. But little old stupid me didn't 
suspect a damn thing. I really thought I was going to get to sink my hungry 
dick up into that sweet little blonde dancer-either her or her twin sister. 
Naturally I imagined that pig number two was going to be a carbon copy of 
pig number one-in other words no pig at all, but one gorgeous young chick. 
Ha! 

I was number three in the line-two other guys got to go out into the back 
room and make it before me. They never did come out again to give the rest 
of us a clue. Once you'd gone in and found out what the joke was, they let 
you stay in there afterwards to watch the rest of the gang come in and make 
jackasses of themselves. 

It took about fifteen or twenty minutes for each of the first two guys to go 
through their scene in there, and then the door opened and the man called my 
name. Man, I was nervous! I was horny as hell and barely able to keep a rein 
on my goddam rampaging bony, but this was going to be my first public fuck 
performance and I wasn't all that sure of how I'd do when the bell rang. I 
mean, I'd never had to worry about how I looked before in the saddle. 

So I came in through the door and sure enough-there were the "two pigs" 
right out in front of me-perched up on a round-top table. One of them was 
the little dancer we'd seen, squatting there bare-ass and grinning at me 
real friendly, and the other was of course what you guessed a long time 
ago-a real, live, barnyard-animal type pig, big as life-also bare-ass, but 
not nearly as pretty as pig number one. 

Benton, the frat president, took my arm and led me up to the table to 
introduce me to the girls. 

"This is Sally," he said, laying a familiar hand on the little blonde's 
golden ass, and then he spun the table halfway around and brought that big 
old ugly pig up in front of me. He patted the pig on the head. "And this is 
our special surprise pig, Bertha. You're gonna love her, just like the first 
two boys did. In fact, I would say that she's even more affectionate than 
Sally, if that's possible, when you approach her the right way. And you, you 
lucky bastard you, are going to get to throw a screw into either one of 
these chubby little sweethearts, depending on which one you pick." 

I laughed and said, "Do I get a choice?" 

That made everybody laugh. 

Benton said, "Let me tell you how the game works, Mister B. Just to make it 
fair and square and not to burden you with an impossible dilemma, and so as 
not to hurt the feelings of either one of these sensitive young lovelies, we 
leave the choice to fate. You will stand precisely where you are now 
positioned, and we will blindfold your eyes. Then the table will 
spin-thuswise." 

Someone gave the tabletop a nudge and it began revolving slowly, shuddering 
and creaking as it turned, with its two lardy female critters rolling around 
with it. I tell you, that had to be one sturdy table to hold those two 
chubby customers without collapsing. 

"Now," Benton said, "you see the table comes gradually to a stop and you are 
faced with prize pig number one in all her naked splendor. Being blindfolded 
of course you will not know which of the two you have won. So you will lean 
in, guided by strong and willing hands, and plant a kiss on the blushing 
cheek of whichever one it is-pig one or pig two. Then, blindfold removed, 
she will be yours to enjoy in wild rapturous intercourse through any of her 
body apertures which strikes your imagine. The choice is up to you. I assure 
you, both of these pigs are used to taking it in every possible way from 
long practice." 

Sally giggled and started fucking her mouth with her finger, but Bertha 
didn't seem to be paying attention. I was pretty much in a state of shock 
myself. I couldn't believe this bit. Screwing a pig! I still figured it was 
just a gag and nobody was really going to have to go through with that. 

But I had no choice but to play along and hope for the best. They were 
already tying on the blindfold. I could only hope that the damn table would 
stop turning when Sally was on my side. Just in case they really were 
serious about the whole thing. I'd lived for twenty years without ever 
screwing a barnyard animal and I was hoping I could leave it that way. 

Then I heard the table start croaking and squawking again and I knew it was 
spinning around. The guys were laughing and yelling comments and when the 
table stopped turning finally they all let out a big loud cheer. Someone 
slapped me on the back and yelled, "Congratulations," but I wasn't doing any 
cheering myself until I found out what the hell I was being congratulated 
for. 

They took my arms and pulled me forward and Benton said, "Bend over now and 
pucker up, Mister B. Prepare to bestow a big fat kiss upon the lucky girl." 

I leaned forward and tried to reach out to feel whatever was there, but they 
wouldn't let me use my hands. No feelsies. Then my lips all of a sudden came 
down on something warm and soft and smooth and I was ready to laugh right 
out loud. That had to be human female flesh my lips were tasting. I knew a 
girl's cheek when I kissed one and this was it! 

But then they yanked off my blindfold with everybody in a big laughing 
uproar and I found that my lips had told me a goddam lie. I had just kissed 
the soft warm ass of a female pig. Yick! 

It wasn't till afterwards, when I watched all the other guys going through 
the same business, that I realized the whole thing was a fix. They made sure 
each time that the table stopped where they wanted it to, which was with the 
pig in kissing position. 

But for the time being I was just cursing my lousy bad luck. I realized 
right off that I was going to have to go through with the whole hairy 
business to the bitter end. They weren't fooling after all. Sally hopped 
down off the table and they set Bertha up with her ass-end out toward me in 
a convenient pigfucking position. 

"Okay," Benton said, "strip right down, first thing. Otherwise you're sure 
to get your clothes all spattered when the passion-juices start to fly." 

So I took my clothes off, feeling like a damn fool, but what could I do? 
This was obviously the test I had to pass to get into the damn frat. 

Benton started working his fingers around the pig's rear end. "Notice the 
selection of openings available," he said. "Hole A-the more popular 
entry-known as the cunt. I'm sure you'll find it warm and hospitable to your 
precious tool. Or you may prefer hole B-known in polite company as the 
shit-hole. Some prefer it for its more intimate caress." 

He was running his fingers in and out of each of the pig's holes all the 
time he was talking about them. The pig seemed to be used to it because he 
was only grunting a little bit and not fidgeting around the way I would have 
expected. 

I was standing there bare-ass meanwhile, wondering if I'd be able to make it 
or not. My prick was as limp as a dishrag. I couldn't get excited somehow 
over the idea of screwing a pig. But then all of a sudden five hot little 
fingers slipped around me from behind and grabbed on-prick, balls and all. 
It was Sally, bless her little heart, giving me a friendly helping hand just 
when I needed it most. 

"Relax, baby," she whispered in my ear. "I got my eye on you. I'll be seeing 
you-later." And she brushed my back with the points of her boobs. Wow! That 
did the trick all right. A couple of easy hand-strokes up and down the old 
weenie and she had me as hard as a rock and ready to fuck anything in sight. 

"Stand clear!" Benton yelled out. "The rocket is on the launching pad." 

A couple of other guys had grabbed onto the pig to hold her tight where she 
was and thy'd also set up a chair for me to stand on, which would bring me 
just about to the right height so that my erected prick would be on a 
point-blank level with Bertha's broad ass. 

"Up you go, man. Get her while she's hot." 

I climbed onto the seat and then stood there holding my prick, not quite 
sure what I was supposed to do with it. 

"Lean in, man," Benton said. "Lay your hands right out flat on her back and 
brace yourself. You going in the cunt-way are you?" 

I muttered uh-huh. 

"Well, there it sits-right in your path. Try the opening with your fingers 
if you want. Let her know you're coming in. She'll give you a hearty 
welcome-don't worry about that. This pig is a confirmed nymphomaniac." 

I ran a finger up and down the line of her crack just to get the feel of it. 
It wasn't so different from a human cunt at that. And it sure was soft and 
slick and plenty big enough so that I didn't see any problem about getting 
into her. So I figured I might as well get fucking and be done with it. 

The other guys and Sally were all rooting me on now, chanting, "Go-go-go," 
and so that's what I did. I moved forward on the chair, laid my prick right 
up head-first against that slimy slot, and pushed forward, hoping for the 
best. Bertha let out a grunt and flinched a little bit. 

"Hold that tiger," I said and laid my hands down on her back the way they'd 
told me to do. 

"Lean right in over her, man," Benton said. "Lay all your weight on her the 
same way a male pig would do. Let her know she's covered." 

I got as good a hand-hold as I could and braced myself to try shoving 
forward again, but all of a sudden Bertha did the job for me. She grunted 
and then backed up towards me and ZIP-my prick slipped right up inside and I 
eased forward and let it slide up the chute as far as it would go until my 
balls bumped and I knew I was all the way in her for sure. 

With my hands I could feel Bertha's back quivering, waiting for the action 
to get under way. But I was just standing there, looking around with an 
idiotic grin on my face. I guess I thought that's all there was to it. Look, 
ma-I'm screwed into a pig! Gimme my prize. 

But the crowd was egging me on to action. "Go-go-go!" 

Benton waved his hand at me. "Get humping, man. Don't keep Bertha waiting. 
You're never gonna pop nuts that way. Fuck, man-fuck!" 

So I pulled back and drew my prick halfway out of her and then shoved it 
back in, and went on riding in and out that way, awkwardly at first, but I 
soon got into a good screwing groove. 

Bertha's snatch sure surprised me. It was slick and greasy and easy as hell 
to pump, but at the same time it was a good tight squeeze around my 
prick-pretty fair fucking, all in all. I could see where a farm boy could 
get awful fond of this kind of action, especially if he didn't have anything 
else female around to do the job for him. If you can imagine the greatest 
cunt you ever laid it into-some real experienced old broad maybe, who had 
control over her pussy-innards and could grab onto you sort of an milk you 
down with internal suction somehow. A pig's twat will do that for you, I 
found out. I'd heard guys talk about it back on the farm-pigs and heifers 
both-but you have to experience it yourself to appreciate it. 

The pig surprised hell out of me, the way she just stood there so quiet and 
calm once I started really putting it to her. All she did was brace herself 
by straddling her legs a little bit and crouching down, so that made me 
crouch a little too to stay with her. And each time I'd run in all the way 
and bump her ass, she'd let out a little burp of a grunt, so I must have 
been hitting home up inside there. 

All in all it was turning out to be a very pleasant, relaxing intercourse 
experience for me, considering the circumstances. I was surprising myself. 
I'd been afraid I'd screw up the deal and here I was fucking up a storm like 
an old pigsticker from way back. 

Benton said, "I get the feeling this boy's been practicing. He ain't no 
barnyard virgin." 

Somebody else yelled out, "Him and Bertha must be old friends from back 
home." 

And Sally said, "If they wasn't friends before, they sure are now." 

The crowd was all counting off a cadence with every push forward I made into 
that pig's pussy. "-fifteen-sixteen-seventeen-" It turned out that they did 
this with everybody, to compare how many pumps it took each of us before he 
shot off his wad. 

It didn't take me long to come. I didn't fight it and try to hold back. I 
was remembering what Sally had whispered in my ear when she was stroking me 
up to a bony, that she'd see me later. So I just wanted to pop off as quick 
as I could inside this old sow's twat and not drain my battery any more than 
necessary-save my best shots for Sally. Her human cunt may not have given me 
a grab-job like Bertha's was doing, but pumping up into that giggly little 
teeny-bopper a guy would have a lot more interesting things to bump against 
and grab onto. 

Fucking a pig is a straight cock-sensation-better than a 
plain-common-ordinary jack-off, but nowhere near the joys of pressing belly 
to belly with a chubby chick like Sally. 

So with my cock driving hard in and out of that suction pump pussy, I just 
closed my eyes and forgot all that crowd of cackling jackasses watching me 
and set my mind to erotic thoughts of the pleasures to come with sweet 
little Sally. That did the trick in a hurry. I built up a real quick head of 
steam in my gonads and band-I had myself a nice pleasant little orgasm. 

Then I eased my dripping pecker back out of Bertha's butt and looked around, 
smiling sheepishly. "Okay?"-I said. 

The guys gave me a hearty round of applause and Benton belted me on the back 
and said, "A-plus, man! Welcome to the brotherhood. Come join the crowd." 

Sally came up with a wet towel to clean the slop off me. "Get dressed, 
Tiger," she said, planting a quick kiss on my ear and dragging a lush booby 
across my rib-cage. And as she wiped down my still-rigid cock she whispered, 
"I hope you saved some of that marshmallow cream for me." and she winked at 
me and flicked her tongue out of her mouth like snake-fangs sort of 
suggesting crazy action to come, her and me-wise. 

It was quite a hassle getting my pants on after that because my prick just 
wouldn't lie down and behave. I hobbled over to join the other guys and 
settled down with them to watch the next victim come in and bang Bertha, but 
my mind and my eyes were all on Sally. Man, I could hardly wait to get my 
weenie into that sweet pussy. 

The only trouble is, I'm still waiting. It never happened-that night or 
ever. I began to get suspicious that I'd been diddled when I noticed that 
Sally was giving all those other guys the exact same jazz she'd given 
me-whispering in the ear, prick-fondling, booby-nudging. Shit, it was all 
just part of the show. 

Sally, it turned out was Benton's own very private chick actually, and 
outside of looksies and feelsies like we'd already had, it was hands off 
Sally's fair ass for all the other frat brothers. 

So Bertha the cuddly pig was the only ass of any kind I got into that 
night-but no complaint. Being a member of that fraternity I soon had all the 
pussy I could handle and then some. And no more pigs either, human or 
otherwise. But at least I did get to fuck one real live pig in my life, 
thanks to that crazy initiation. I always say a guy ought to try everything 
under the sun at least once. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Man has always been intrigued with the idea of creating from bestial unions 
strange and wondrous offspring-half-human and half-beastand the effort to do 
so has been a strong motivation in prompting men to try "marriage" with all 
sorts of animals in the vain hope of coming up with an exotic hybrid. 
Needless to say it has never been known to work, according to cool-headed 
scientific spokesmen. Such unions they tell us are invariably sterile. 

But for thousands of years men refused to believe it and went on trying to 
give birth to living, breathing mermaids, satyrs, centaurs, wolf-men and 
similar monstrosities of nature. Despite the disbelief of modern scientific 
scoffers, according to mythical and early "historical" records many times 
they succeeded! 

Several ancient Kings and Emperors claimed to be descendents of bears, 
wolves, and other varieties of beast. In past centuries reputable historians 
have reported great numbers of "authentic cases" of women giving birth to 
snakes, rats, dogs, pigs, and even in one case a lion. Saint Jerome swore 
that he personally had seen children half-ape and half-human, products of 
bestial intercourse. 

The possibility of a man and ape union proving fruitful seems not impossible 
on the face of it. Apes certainly are very man-like creatures (or vice 
versa.) Why should there not be a child resulting when a man pumps his seed 
into an ape? After all, doesn't Darwin tell us that we all descend from a 
common ancestor? 

As recently as the early twentieth century in Europe scientists actually 
were doing experiments trying to mate a man with an ape fruitfully-using 
artificial insemination methods rather than actual intercourse. 
Unfortunately for sensation-lovers however, no ape-man or monkey-woman 
resulted. 

But whether in hope of offspring or not, apes would seem to be ideal 
partners for the man inclined to dabble in bestial sex, because of their 
human-like proportions and sexual equipment. 

And despite the obvious perils of close grappling with large apes, which 
generally are ill-tempered animals of dangerous strength, they have been 
highly popular love-partners for both men and women throughout history in 
many parts of the world. Egyptian women commonly made use of baboons for 
their pleasure as previously noted, and in fact the baboon seems to have 
been a favorite sex-partner for sporty ladies all over the Middle East. 

Apes of all kinds for their part apparently enjoy "making it" with their 
human cousins. Without having read Darwin, they seem to recognize the 
kinship. Mandrills and gorillas are reported to be especially susceptible to 
human charms. 

In the Roman arena the unloosed apes needed no goading to commit rapes on 
bound human victims-usually young female slaves. Chimpanzees, mandrills and 
baboons all took part in these assaults. Sometimes the victims were made 
more alluring to the apes by swabbing their cunt-regions with female monkey 
piss-a powerful aphrodisiac to the rampaging male monkey. 

Not many men or women in the civilized world today have the opportunity to 
sport lewdly with monkeys. Probably few men feel any strong desire to sleep 
with a female ape even in their wildest fantasies. But women, who are more 
likely to be turned on by brute strength and rampant hairiness in a 
sex-partner, often have dreams of being carried off and raped by King 
Kong-like creatures. Probably many of them in their waking hours have 
wondered idly how it might be, actually getting screwed by an ape. 

Valerie, the "star" of the following case report, had such dreams. But 
unlike most girls, she turned her dream-life with monkeys into a real-life 
career. 

For several years Valerie traveled with a small carnival and circus, taking 
care of the menagerie among other jobs. Now in her mid-thirties, she has 
written a book of reminiscences about her life among the circus animals, but 
because of the "sensational" nature of some of her confessions and 
revelations, she has never submitted the book to a publisher. 

"Some day I will maybe," she says, "after certain people have died off and 
when I get old enough so that I just don't give a crap anymore. A lot of 
people including my husband would have shit hemorrhages if I put this thing 
in print now. He thinks I ought to set a match to it." 

She gave me permission however to use excerpts from three chapters, dealing 
with her life in the menagerie. I offer these extraordinarily frank 
selections here just as she wrote them. 

 Case 7 Valerie Y. 

I worked in the girlie show for a couple of months only, even though I was 
doing fine. I had a hell of a build for a girl not quite eighteen-especially 
in the tit department. Brosz was even letting me do the windup almost every 
show, which pissed off the other girls no end. That's where the marks shell 
out a couple of bucks extra at the end of the regular performance for the 
privilege of seeing one of the girls flash pussy. The new girls didn't 
usually get a crack at that. Naturally the other bitches all figured I must 
be going down on Brosz, working him for favors, but they had it figured 
wrong. I wasn't going down on him-he was going down on me. Ha ha. 

But they all had it in for me anyway for that and general jealousy reasons, 
and the next town we played they spread the word that I was under-age and 
the law came around and put the heat on Mister Bennington (the circus owner) 
about me. 

He got the shakes over it and told Brosz to can me and quick. But Brosz 
persuaded him to let me stay on and help out around the menagerie. They were 
always hiring boys to work there with the animals but the kids would always 
fuck off and it was hard to get good help. Brosz told Mister Bennington that 
I was real good with animals, which was just a shot in the dark on his part, 
but Bennington said okay, he'd give me a try. 

So that was the end of my professional bare-ass dance career forever and the 
beginning of my new life among the monkeys. 

* * * 

Brosz was still trying to get me to move back in with him but I didn't need 
that fat immigrant anymore. I had a nice cozy bunk-bed set up in the front 
end of the monkey wagon and it suited me just fine. 

I was getting very attached to the monkeys by that time and I liked being 
with them. They were my favorites of all the animals right from the start. 
Camels I could do without. Elephants I don't relate to. Lions are majestic 
to look at but not easy to get to know. Monkeys though have personality as 
much as humansevery one of them is a separate person to me. So when one of 
the little Borneo monkeys took sick, I felt like it was my own child and I 
nursed him with tender loving care. It was only like a cold in the head he 
had actually, but that can be rough on a monkey. They're very susceptible to 
pneumonia in temperate climates. 

So when we had a spell of nippy nights, I took the little rascal into my bed 
with me and let him sleep with me. 

"I hope you appreciate this," I told him. "It's not every monkey that gets 
to sleep in my bed on such short acquaintance." 

That's all it was. I swear. Keeping the monkey warm and keeping my eye on 
him until he passed the crisis. And maybe that's all it would ever have 
been. A couple of days and he'd be back in his cage again, good as new. 

But the word got around that "Valerie is sleeping with a monkey now," and 
that started the kidding. All I heard all day was, "I hear you're monkeying 
around nights." 

"How is that little bastard in bed, anyway." 

"How about me, Val? I guarantee I can give you more than any monkey," and "I 
hope you're taking your pills every night before you make it with that 
monkey." 

Well I just laughed everything off and gave it right back to them. I told 
them he was a fantastic cocksman and he was going to take me back to Borneo 
with him to meet his parents. Shit like that. All for laughs. 

But even when I was laughing I was beginning to put some thought to it. What 
about this? Could a monkey and a girl make it like that or not? Wheels 
started turning over in my dirty little mind. Mind you, I'd never heard of 
people and animals making it sex-wise. It wasn't that nobody had ever told 
me it was nasty and sinful and illegal besides to fuck with a monkey. The 
thing was, nobody had ever mentioned to me that such a thing existed in the 
world, or that it was even possible. 

So when I started turning it over in my head at least I had no 
preconceptions or prejudices to steer me. I just decided when the monkey got 
over his fever I was going to try a little scientific experiment in animal 
sexology to find out if I could work a diddle on his little pecker and give 
him a hard-on. That was the full extent of my original intentions. No more 
than that. I thought it might make him feel good and sort of cement our 
friendship together. 

So that's how it started with this little monkey at first. I laid him out on 
his back and patted his belly for awhile. I'd done that before to him and 
he'd liked it. It used to put him to sleep in fact. But this time I began 
patting lower down and playing my fingers up and down the hollow of his 
crotch. I was no expert on what monkeys like to have done to them, but 

I sure knew how to go about setting a man's nerves on edge and I was curious 
to see if a monkey would react the same way. 

It didn't take long to find out. The little rascal started making squealy 
noises right away and twitching around, and I nearly flipped when his prick 
started to swell up even before I laid a hand on it. It made me laugh to 
think that little monkeys like him must be just as horny as men. 

I started tickling his prick then, running one finger up and down it, and he 
started grabbing on my arm-trying to tell me something-but I didn't know 
whether it was stop or go or faster please or what. 

That's really all it amounted to though that first time. I didn't even jerk 
him off all the way. Maybe I should have and been done with it because I 
sure had stirred him up with my cock-tickling. When I quit he started 
thrashing around and grabbing onto me and he kept trying to get in close to 
me and rub his prick up against me. He still had a hard-on for the longest 
time afterwards. And he probably had a damn knot in his balls that was 
killing him, but I didn't think of that, I was laughing like hell at him, 
and poking and tickling his ribs, and all of a sudden POW! He pops his nuts 
all over me. Splat! Splat! Splat! All over me and the blanket. 

Then I got mad as hell, although I don't know what I had expected. I'd been 
acting like a cock-teaser and he'd given me what I deserved. But I didn't 
think of it that way. I kicked him the hell out of bed and put him back in 
his cage. That was the end of it. I'd had my fun with him and he'd ended up 
being a bad boy. 

But it wasn't the end for him. He wouldn't settle down. He kept up a 
jabbering and squealing and kept racing around his cage for an hour or more. 

Finally I had to go get him again and bring him back to bed with me. He was 
keeping me and all the other monkeys awake with his squalling. 

I let him snuggle up to me and he grabbed on tight and pressed his prick 
against my hip and in no time at all he was sound asleep. Then I went to 
sleep too, but I dreamed I was chasing after this huge monkey-not an ape, 
just an oversized monkey-and I finally caught up with him in the middle of 
the freeway and I kissed him all over and nibbled his fur and then I pulled 
him down on top of me and we made mad love together while the traffic zipped 
by all around us. 

And then all of a sudden I woke up with a jolt and that dirty little monkey 
bastard had shot off another load all over me. He must have been having the 
same dream I was, only his turned out to be a wet one. 

Well I couldn't put up with that crap anymore, much as I loved the little 
so-and-so. Something had to be done. 

The next day I put him back in the cage with all the other monkeys and kept 
my eye on him awhile and before long he started out after a certain female 
monkey-showing off for her, jumping all around and swinging on the 
trapeze-and then he began chasing her around the cage and I could see 
already he had a hard-on again. I was glad to know he could get it up for 
other monkeys and not just for me. So now maybe I could get a peaceful 
night's sleep for myself again. 

I put my little friend and his new lady love in a cage by themselves and 
after awhile sure enough, he got her into a wrestling around and nuzzling 
situation and the next thing I knew one thing led to another and there he 
was ramming it into her-ass-end to. 

"My God!" I thought. "Do monkeys do it up the ass?" 

But then I saw that he was into her little snatch after all. Monkeys just 
prefer it the back way around. I never did see any monkeys do it face to 
face on their own initiative. But even though they always do it from behind, 
they won't ever go up each other's ass unless they've been taught that way 
by perverted humans. 

I watched those two little bastards screwing and I began to get jealous. Not 
that I couldn't get all the human humping I could handle around that sexy 
sideshow bunch. But there was something lacking in all the guys I'd known. 
There never had been one that really turned me on. 

I got to thinking of my dream the night before-how wild and woolly it had 
been, pumping off with that big monkey. And watching this little fellow 
pounding it into his female, I couldn't help wishing he was about three or 
four times his size so he could do the same for me. 

Well brother, that set off a new set of wheels spinning around in my dirty 
little old mind. It just happened that we had apes in all shapes and sizes 
in that menagerie, and maybe I could get one of the bigger boys-closer to my 
five-foot-six proportions-and do a little of the same kind of seduction work 
on him that had had such spectacular results with the little squirt from 
Borneo. 

There was a gorilla named Ghengis who came immediately to mind, but I wasn't 
quite ready for him or he for me. Gorillas are not the ferocious monsters 
people think they are-they don't even eat meat. But they're strong enough to 
mash you into hamburger in the middle of a loving embrace and I didn't need 
that, thanks. 

I finally decided to try my womanly wiles on the orangutan. He'd always been 
gentle and friendly when I'd gone into his cage, and he was a perfect size 
to be my partner in a dance or any other similar joint-venture between us 
that might rise out of a developing friendship. 

For the next couple of days I only thought about it-getting my courage up, I 
guess. I wasn't sure yet just how far I wanted to go with Wimpy. I wanted to 
try erecting his pecker the way I did the little fellers and see what kind 
of ideas it would put in his monkey-head. But I was afraid I wasn't going to 
get away with cock-teasing this big old boy. Turn him on and then yell cool 
it and I might be in big trouble. So I gave it a couple of days of deep 
thought to be sure I wanted to carry through on it to the bitter end and let 
my pussy take the consequences. 

It flipped me to think of having those long woolly arms of his wrapped all 
around me and that broad hairy chest scratching my tender hide. I always had 
liked broad-beamed, hairy men. (That was the only thing I liked about Brosz 
in fact-his wide, woolly chest.) So I made up my mind I'd give it a shot. 
What the hell did I have to lose? If the big ape went berserk-well, you 
gotta die sometime. And if the worst happened and I got fucked to death, at 
least I'd be sure to get my name in every paper in the country. What a way 
to go! 

Now that I'd made up my mind, the when and where of it was a little 
ticklish. It would have to be in his cage, I decided finally. Bringing him 
outside and taking him into my bed like I did the monkey would have been a 
bit much. Especially since I had no idea how he was going to react when I 
started to push his 'ON' buttons. 

And late at night was the only possible time. Friday would be best for a 
first try. Rizzo the elephant trainer would be staying overnight in town and 
there wouldn't likely be anybody else poking his nose around the cages at 
two or three in the morning. 

So Friday I got myself ready. I didn't bother taking a bath that night. I 
figured the more I smelled like a female animal the better my chances of 
ringing Wimpy's chimes. About two or so I got myself ready to go. I stripped 
down to the buff and then put on an old coat for cover just in case I ran 
into somebody on the way to the other wagon. Not likely, but there could be 
one of the boys coming through on a short-cut back from town. 

But I didn't see a living soul, and I climbed into the wagon, unlocked the 
gate of Wimpy's cage, and slipped inside-nervous and excited as hell. I felt 
like a Virgin bride on the way to the slaughter. 

I heard him sniff and stir as soon as I closed the gate. Then I just stood 
where I was and called softly to him. "Wimpy-Wimpy." 

I could hear him shuffling around and then he came lumbering over to me in 
the dim light. I began talking to him as I always did and held out my hand 
to him. He sniffed around a bit till he found out I hadn't brought any food 
along for him and then he sort of lost interest and went back to lie down. 

It looked as if I'd have to get more aggressive to break through to him on 
the sex level. All I had ever represented to him until then was a human 
creature who brought him food from time to time. I had to make him realize 
that ape does not live by bread alone. What you need is love love love, 
baby. 

So the first thing I did was slip out of the robe and I draped it over the 
bars. It gave me a little shiver of excitement to be completely naked in an 
animal's cage this way. As if I was an animal myself, caged and on display. 
That thought made me all the more eager to start acting the part. If only I 
could get a little cooperation from sleepy old Wimpy. 

I wondered if he'd show any special interest in me being naked, something he 
hadn't experienced before. So I called to him again. "Wimpy! Come on, boy. 
Come sniff mama's pussy." 

I thought that might be what a female ape would say in the circumstances if 
she could only talk. I started towards Wimpy across the dark cage and I 
could hear him getting up again and sniffing the air. I hoped I was sending 
out sexy smells on the night breeze. I began to shiver again as I came near 
to him, a little frightened, but impatient to feel his rough, hairy hide 
pressing up against me. 

Then I could see his shadowy form standing just ahead of me, and I said his 
name one more time and then moved in to touch him and let him touch me. 

He made a peculiar whining sound as I laid a hand on his long arm, and then 
I reached in and began rubbing his hairy ribs and wrinkly chest. I could 
feel him shiver, and then he settled down into a squat at my feet. 

I got down with him and moved up close alongside. Now we were really getting 
cozy. God knows what kind of monkey-crud my bare ass was sitting in, but I 
didn't give a crap at that point. 

I picked up one of his arms and draped it over my shoulder, hoping that 
would give him some ideas. But he was being pretty indifferent so far. I 
decided I'd better quit beating around the bush and get to the point-the 
point being his monkey prick. The subtle approach wasn't working so far. 

So I leaned in against him, rubbing my boob on his arm, and started 
finger-walking down his belly the same way I had done with the little 
monkey, heading for the royal scepter. I was real nervous at that point. I 
figured that once I hit on his family jewels and started screwing around 
there, it would be for keeps from then on-no backing off. There was still 
time right then to call quits, grab my coat, and get the hell out of there. 

Before I could think too much about it and scare myself right out of the 
whole deal, I took a big deep breath, reached down and just grabbed. Right 
onto his big black prick. I was surprised to find it already halfway hard 
and hot as a cooked weenie. I'd been doing better with my warm-up than I'd 
figured. 

But the minute I touched it he pulled away from me and hopped up to his 
feet. He was squealing a blue streak now. He was excited all right, but no 
telling yet what it was going to lead to. He might be working up to a 
fighting mood instead of loving, for all I knew. 

I stood up too and reached out again to take his arm, but all of a sudden he 
came back toward me on his own and started pawing all over the front of me 
with big clumsy rough swipes. The palms of his hands were like dried-up 
leather raking over me but I loved the feeling of it against my hungry hide. 
When he brushed over my boobs the shivers ran all through me everywhere and 
made me weak in the knees. I only hoped I could hit his magic nerve-centers 
the way he was reaching mine without half trying. 

I stepped in closer to him and pressed myself up tight against him and then 
he did what I'd been hoping for-lie wrapped his arms all the way around me 
in a huge embrace and just about squeezed the breath out of me. Now I was in 
the dream condition I'd been having fantasy orgasms about-surrounded by hot 
hairy monkey on all sides. 

He was whimpering now. Surprisingly he sounded exactly like the little 
monkey when he was in my bed, all riled up and raring to go. And Wimpy was 
ready-I could tell plain enough. His prick was up and rigid-pressing hard 
against my thigh. 

I forced my hand down between us and took hold of that big thrusting tool. 
It seemed to be steaming with inner heat-I imagined it was burning my 
fingers through to the bone. But I clutched it tight and ground my belly 
against it and squashed my inflamed boobs against the rough hair-mattress of 
his chest. 

His hands were rubbing and grabbing at my back now-all up and down-and then 
pulling at the soft, loose flesh of my ass. I was beyond all caution and 
restraint by that time. I was already close to orgasm-trembling all 
overalmost wanting him to crush me to a pulptear me apart-pound me silly 
with his impaling prick. 

But I'd have to steer him into doing for me what I craved. This was a 
brand-new experience for poor dull-witted Wimpy. He wasn't used to being 
accosted by brazen bare-ass females in this manner. Lady orangutans had more 
decency and sense of propriety. What does a poor respectable monkey do when 
a sex-mad slut comes up to him and grabs hold of his intimate parts? 
Naturally he was a bit confused. Maybe he was afraid I was going to ask him 
for money. 

So I tried to maneuver him into a position where I could slip his prick up 
into me and give him the idea of the game I had in mind by setting the 
example. I had sense enough not to pull him down on top of me-that would 
have squashed me flat. What I intended, if possible, was to get him down on 
his back so I could sit on his prick and ride him that way. 

I don't know what it would have looked like to anybody watching us right 
then, standing there embracing-like we were doing a slow rhumba together or 
something-holding on each other and twitching our asses. 

Finally I managed to get him to lie down with me, reclining sort of 
side-by-side, and then I threw one leg up over his ass and nudged my crotch 
in as close to him as I could get and tried to work his prick up into 
position. I never worked so hard at anything in my life. He just couldn't 
seem to get the idea of what I had in mind. But I wasn't discouraged. I'd 
been in the sack before with human boys that were almost this dumb. 

He obviously enjoyed having me grab his prick, and I gave it plenty of 
tugging and tickling to be sure he didn't go soft on me but there was no 
sign of that happening. If I only could get it inside me just an inch he 
might catch on, I figured, but every time I got his prick poking at the 
gates and just about to slip up inside, the son of a gun would pull back. 

One funny thing-he'd discovered by boobs, which are quite a bit better than 
average-sized, and way beyond anything you'd ever find on a female monkey. 
He was squeezing them in his fingers and batting them back and forth, one 
tit against the other, like they were punching bags. But not real rough-just 
playfully-and it was a wild sensation. I always had liked to have men play 
with my boobs when they made it with me. It's the quickest way to get me 
hot, next to going right straight to cunt city. I was never much for all 
that slobbery kissing on the mouth that some guys like so much. I'd always 
tell them, "Kiss my boobs if you want something to kiss." Nipple-sucking 
will turn me on in a second. I was wishing then that old liver-lips Wimpy 
would give my boobs a lick with that big juicy mouth of his. But that could 
wait for a later session. First he'd have to learn to fuck-then suck. 

All of a sudden without warning he shifted his ass and thrust his hips 
forward and bent his legs back, it seemed like. And there was his beautiful 
ramrod pecker then laid right out for me in the open air-free and clear. No 
more legs blocking my way to the weenie. 

"Don't move-don't move," I whispered, holding my breath. I wiggled my body 
forward and lifted up my leg and ever so slowly and carefully lowered my 
spread cunt down onto his outthrust prick. 

I was pretty well juiced-up by then in the pussy regions, just from the 
excitement of the anticipation, so once I got his big blunt pecker-head down 
onto the groove, it slipped up inside without too much hassle. He was 
big-bigger than any man I'd ever had in me-but I never had had any trouble 
taking in whatever was offered to me-by any guy. I always liked to feel 
myself well-filled, I'm not ashamed to say. I like to know there's a prick 
in me, by God. If I'm going to get fucked, I want to feel fucked-right up to 
the hilt. 

So that first time Wimpy went up inside me I was having little mini-orgasms 
every inch of the way. He wasn't helping a bit so far-just lying there 
blowing his hot wet monkey breath in my face and holding on loosely to one 
of my dangling boobs. But he didn't pull away from me, thank God. He held 
his prick right out for me free for the taking and let me do whatever I 
wanted with it. I grunted and wiggled my ass and hunched my hips and I could 
feel that fat black pickle of his beginning to make it up into me a little 
bit at a time-tickle tickle tickle all the way. 

Then when it seemed as if it was stuffed clear up to my liver, I reached 
down and went to work on his dangling balls, rolling them in my hand and 
squeezing them together the same way he'd been squeezing my tits. 

"Okay, man-let's pump." I said to him. 

And with that I began to rock my hips up and down over his cock, easing it 
in and out of me an inch or two either way. Just slow and easy at first to 
give him the idea and also to get it riding smooth and slick inside my cunt. 
Being jammed in there as tight as it was, it took a little bit of easy 
practice action to get it sliding properly before we started any hard 
pumping. I wanted this screw to last awhile, man. Start slow and build and 
build and build. What the hell-we had all night ahead of us. Neither of us 
was going anywhere. 

As soon as I felt his prick moving slick and smooth in the groove I started 
to hump with more vigor, hoping he'd pick up the rhythm from me and join the 
dance. Sooner or later this had to give him some kind of an idea of what we 
were working towards. 

And yes indeed! All of a sudden he quit blowing his breath on me and quit 
pulling on my boob, and I could feel a little shudder down where his belly 
was rubbing mine. Then WHAM! He squeezed my tit in his fist and gave it a 
yank like he was going to pull it clear off. I let out a shriek and belted 
him on the arm, and thank God he let go then and started to move his hips 
against me. In another second his prick began riding in and out like a 
pile-driver. He'd figured out the game we were playing all of a sudden and 
man-did he pick up on it fast! Pow pow pow-he hammered that prick up me-his 
belly punching against mine like a medicine ball-boom boom boom. 

From that point on he just took over management of the whole operation 
himself. I didn't have to do a thing but hang on tight and ride with him. I 
let go of his testicles-which began slamming like tennis balls up under my 
ass-and just grabbed onto his huge hairy hide and took off in orbit. My 
whole body was rocking and shivering as if I was riding a bucking horse. He 
played rough, once you turned on his switches. Wham! wham! Pow! Pow! His 
prick pounding my guts-his balls beating my ass-his belly bumping the breath 
out of me-my boobs wallowing all over my chest-my head bobbing around like 
it was on a spring-my hair flying in all directions. Ee-yow! Man or monkey, 
this was the fuck of a thousand fantastic dreams-the fuck you never expect 
to experience outside your erotic fancies. I had always enjoyed a good rough 
ride, but this was the absolute end. 

His prick was going up and down my chute a mile-a-minute and reaching up 
into my belly to places I wouldn't have thought possible. I couldn't even 
count the orgasms. They just started popping all up through my guts and shot 
through me in every direction until my whole body was just one big 
orgasm-arms, legs, everywhere-just EXPLODING! Even my head. This crazy 
bombed-out drunk feeling in my head that I'd never felt before in a fuck. 
like I was freaked-out on some kind of goof-balls. 

But the goof-ball was his prick in this case-driving me out of my 
cotton-picking mind. 

Then all of a sudden he grabbed onto me hard and slammed me up against him. 
His arms wrapped around me and just squeezed. I thought it was the end of 
me. It felt like he was crushing my ribs-collapsing my chest-I couldn't 
breathe-my face was buried in a muzzle of hair. And there I was, 
suffocating-but exploding inside with a million crazy orgasms all at the 
same time. Heaven and hell simultaneously. 

That's when Wimpy shot his load. I could feel him shooting off inside me 
like spurts of white-hot lava scalding my guts. And still he held me and 
held me until I was just on the verge of passing out altogether. 

But then at last it was all over. The prick-pounding stopped and he slowly 
relaxed his grip and let me breathe again. I was drenched in sweat from head 
to toe-mine and his combined-and I didn't have an ounce of strength left in 
me. I just lay there panting against him, clinging tightly, completely 
satisfied for the first time in my young life. And madly in love for the 
first time in my life besides. 

All I wanted to do was just lie on his woolly breast forever. At least I 
hoped that he'd let me stay there for a little while, all wrapped up in his 
rough warmth, but I didn't expect any favors. I knew how bored men get right 
after the orgasm, and I figured monkeys probably were no different. 

But he didn't seem any more inclined to move than I was. He must have got a 
pretty good charge out of the action himself. After all, it was a brand new 
first-time thing for him too. He went back to plucking at my boob and 
nudging it back and forth and that was okay with me. I could see that we had 
got off on the right foot of what was going to be a long and beautiful 
friendship. 

After awhile his cock dwindled inside me-I could feel it happen, and a cold 
draft of air suddenly hit up into me. Then he pulled out of me altogether 
and a great big flood of his come juice came rolling out my cunt and 
dribbled down over my leg and ass. 

I laughed and said to him, "You lying rascal ! I thought you said you used a 
rubber.". 

He squeezed my boob to let me know what he thought of that shitty joke. 

A little later I began to feel the urge coming on me again for another 
go-around, and I reached for his prick and started in on it with a new lot 
of pulling and squeezing, but I guess he'd had enough for one night. He let 
out a snort and jerked away from me, and I went off his lap and 
down-CLUNK-onto the cold hard floor of the cage. Wimpy went lumbering off, 
shaking his ass at me, letting me know the party was over. See you around, 
baby. 

I could take a hint. Anyway, that was action enough for the first night for 
both of us. He was right. No sense rushing things. Tomorrow we'd tackle 
lesson two of the course, although I wasn't too sure from here on whether it 
would be me teaching him or him teaching me. Now that he'd got the hang of 
things, I had a hunch it was going to be Wimpy's ball game the rest of the 
way. 

NOTE:-Valerie carried on her affair with Wimpy for several months after 
that. She cut herself off from the circus men entirely and once they all 
realized for sure that she had apparently gone celibate on them, they quit 
bothering her and left her to her animal friends. 

The only member of the circus who found out about her secret love affair 
with Wimpy was a young man named Pete, who had been working as an attendant 
and ticket-taker on the merry-go-round. One night, being drunker than he was 
allowed to be and looking for a place to hide out over night, Pete sneaked 
into the number two monkey wagon and crawled under an empty cage. There, a 
little while later, he was a flabbergasted witness as the aloof Miss Valerie 
staged one of her flamboyant monkey-fuck performances, never intended for 
the eyes of an audience. Valerie tells about it in a later chapter of her 
manuscript: 

It just happened that night that I was in an even wilder mood than usual and 
I was really laying it on. Wimpy and I had been screwing each other's asses 
off for quite a long time then, and we had got so we made an elaborate game 
out of it. On that night I was down on all fours-bare-ass naked of 
course-scrambling around the goddam cage with my ass in the air, yapping and 
squealing like a female monkey-scratching my ribs-flipping my boobs. Pete 
must have thought I was stark raving loony. 

Wimpy chased after me for awhile, never quite catching up. That was all part 
of our game. Then I jumped up and grabbed onto the bars and climbed up about 
eight feet high on the side of the cage, out of his reach. So there he was 
down below reaching for me, grabbing at my ankles, chattering away, and 
there I was up there hanging on the bars, kicking down at him, spitting, 
calling him a big hairy mother-fucker and every other name. Of all nights 
for somebody to be spying on us. I could have killed that sneaky bastard. 

It ended with me jumping down and landing right on top of old Wimpy and he 
caught me like he always did and we went down onto the floor together. Then 
I rolled over away from him and got up on my hands and knees with my ass in 
his face, and making monkey noises again. This was going to be a plain 
old-fashioned monkey-fuck-in from the rear-end, under the ass and up the 
snatch. I gave Wimpy a good spread to aim at and wiggled my ass at him and 
he slipped up behind me and eased into position. Man, this was his kind of 
fucking. 

He slipped his prick up inside with no trouble at all-we had our parts 
pretty well tooled to a fine fit by then. I'd developed a perfect 
monkey-cunt, just for him. So there he was, whanging away against my ass and 
me bending the knees and bumping backwards to help the action. As usual his 
long arms came around under me to play squeeze-ball with my boobs. 

Pete said later that he thought he must be asleep in a drunk dream. I mean, 
who would believe a sight like this-drunk or sober? 

We pounded away to our usual A-bomb orgasm and then we wrestled around with 
each other, making more monkey noises, and all through the whole nutty scene 
that kid Pete wouldn't pop out and show himself. He let me go on making a 
jackass of myself and then finally-when I'm climbing down out of the damn 
cage, all smeared up with crud and straw and dripping sweat, looking like a 
bedraggled sewer-rat, then he sticks his head out and says to me, "Good 
show, Miss Valerie. Didn't know you had it in you." And he gave me a couple 
of tired hand-claps along with it. 

I let out a whoop and almost dropped right on the spot from heart-failure. 
But then I saw who it was and I started in giving him hell. The cocky young 
shit-I'd slept with him once or twice when he first joined the show. That 
was when I was still sleeping around a lot-long before I took up with the 
monkeys. I used to try out all the new boys that came and went, the same as 
the other girls did. I remembered this one well. He was a common variety-big 
mouth and small cock. 

But then under the circumstances I figured I'd better play it cool with him. 
I wasn't too anxious naturally to have the word get around the lot about me 
and Wimpy's mad passion. So I invited Pete to come on inside with me and 
have a drink and help me shower down. 

Then over a drink, under the shower, and finally under the sheets together, 
we made a little deal. Tomorrow I'd speak to his boss and arrange a transfer 
to the menagerie for him. From now on he would work for me-helping out 
around the monkey house. 

And it wasn't such a bad deal for me. I could use the help, and from then on 
I had somebody to stand watch for me when I was doing my thing with Wimpy. 
Pete wasn't such a bad kid anyway. It certainly was no sweat keeping him 
happy. He was a pretty feeble fuck compared to that wild monkey. I could 
drain Pete dry in five minutes anytime without half trying and have plenty 
of juice left for Wimpy whenever he was ready to ball. 

Pete loved watching me and Wimpy do our stuff and I didn't mind that. What 
the hell-I'd performed in the buff for audiences enough times before when I 
was in the girlie show-stuffing myself with dildos and every other damn 
thing. So there was no problem for me of self-consciousness or 
embarrassment. And it was big kicks for Pete. Sometimes I think he got more 
charge out of watching me screw the monkey than he did out of banging me 
himself. 

One day when I wasn't on the scene, unfortunately, some woman got into a big 
hassle with 

Wimpy. She claimed she was standing beside his cage minding her own business 
when he reached through the bars and grabbed hold of her, tore her dress 
down the back, and then reached around and "roughly handled her right 
breast, inflicting major bruises and abrasions and causing her to suffer 
extreme terror and severe embarrassment." 

She informed Mister Bennington that she was suing the circus for some 
idiotic amount of money-way up in the hundred thousand area. Old 
tremble-chin Bennington flew into his usual tizzy and told me in no 
uncertain terms that Wimpy was a menace and he was getting rid of him. 
Having him destroyed! 

I nearly had a breakdown. Destroy Wimpy! They'd be destroying me too if they 
did. But what could I do? I was at my wit's end. 

But then good old Pete came to the rescue. I hadn't even seen the dame who 
made the complaint, but Pete told me, "You know who she is. You've noticed 
her around here plenty. Remember last week-I pointed her out to you? The fat 
cunt with the floppy hat." 

Oh, did I ever remember! And all of a sudden the worries just melted away. 
We had this dame by the balls, so to speak. 

The thing is, there's a certain type of woman that's attracted to monkeys, 
and they spend half their time hanging around zoos and menageries like ours. 
Any place with monkeys can tell you they see this type of woman every day. 
Women like that know that male monkeys can get horny over human females and 
with them, like me, it's vice versa. They don't have my opportunities though 
to actually do something constructive about their urges, so they just hang 
around the monkey cages half the day, hoping to see a monkey pissing or 
playing with himself or just showing off a hard-on. 

So this cunt who was suing us was one of those. Pete had spotted her one day 
poking a stick into Wimpy's cage, trying to jab his crotch while he was 
sleeping. That's when he pointed her out to me and we had a security cop 
take her for a walk. 

So now we had me, Pete, and the cop to testify against that bitch and her 
monkey-teasing habits, and sure enough-all of a sudden the case collapsed 
without ever going to court. And there was no more talk from Bennington 
about liquidating my sweet little, old furry-ass common-law spouse. 

FINAL NOTE:-After that, Valerie carried on her passionate affair with Wimpy 
the orangutan for more than a year, until one night the lovable ape suddenly 
took a fit and died in her arms during one of their frenzied sex-sessions. 
He apparently had suffered a heart-seizure. 

Valerie reports that she was inconsolable for weeks afterward. She fled from 
the circus and gave herself up to a series of violent love affairs with a 
great many men, none of which satisfied her, physically or emotionally. 

So at last she returned to the circus and her beloved monkeys, and 
eventually she married and seems to have achieved a fairly happy 
human-relationship with her present husband. 

Although she admits having cheated on him occasionally with other men, she 
swears that she has always remained absolutely true to the memory of her 
beloved Wimpy, and despite frequent bestial temptations, never again has she 
consorted sexually with any other monkey. 


THE END
