In the course of history, bestial practices have not only been a private pastime but in various places and times have played a part in religious rituals, witchcraft rites, and public spectacles for the titillation of the masses.
It is hardly surprising that the ancient Romans who made a arena spectacle out of everything from costume dramas to gladiatorial warfare found sadistic delight in bestial sex exhibitions on the grand scale. An amazing variety of animals were trained to perform sexually in the arena, most often committing rape on helpless, spread-eagled young maidens. Zebras, cheetahs, even giraffes reportedly were involved in this kind of bizarre sport.
According to R.E.L. Masters, the diligent sex-researcher and writer, on one infamous occasion in the Coliseum a hundred golden-haired young girls were raped in unison by a hundred rampaging baboons, a girl-show spectacular beyond anything ever dreamed of by Busby Berkeley.
On other occasions, to add an extra zest to the performance, wild apes would not only rape the unfortunate girls but also devour their bodies afterwards for an encore.
Since those pagan times, bestial sex-shows have never again reached such heights of production lavishness or played to such arena-sized audiences. In recent centuries and down to the present day, virtually the only public performances of the kind have been whorehouse exhibitions, usually involving a prostitute and either a large dog or a small horse.
Krafft-Ebing noted such an exhibition a hundred years ago, an “example of the moral depravity in large cities”, in which “a Parisian female showed herself in the sexual act with a trained bulldog to a secret circle of rogues at ten francs a head.”
Since the old-fashioned garden-variety whorehouse has become practically extinct in this country, generally one must travel abroad to find such performances today. A few countries of Latin America, Asia and the Arab lands still offer these usually pitiful spectacles as underground tourist attractions.
A New York executive who has spent much time in the Caribbean islands where his firm does a great deal of business tells about an experience of the kind in pre-Castro Cuba.
CASE 1: Ben P.
Before the revolution down there, Cuba was really the place to go, I’m telling you. It was murder trying to get any business done is the only thing, with all the distractions – whorehouses on every street, blue movies, and orgy exhibitions – you name it and you could find it. You didn’t have to do any shopping around either. All you had to do was walk out on any street. They’d spot you for an American right off and there’d be a dozen pimps after you, trying to sell you every kind of sex experience that man ever invented. You couldn’t help but get the impression that every broad in Havana was peddling her ass and every guy was pimping for them.
The “exhibitions” were the big thing. First thing they’d mention to you. “Superman” was the big star. He was a big black bugger with a cock like a baseball bat, and he put on shows in one of the houses there. He’d take on about four or five of the girls at once and they’d play the scene for you any way you ordered it. If you wanted to, you could strip down and join the show yourself. They’d do their thing in a private performance just for you, or for a whole party of ten or twenty tourists. How Superman kept that prick of his up all day is beyond me. Must’ve had a steel rod planted in it. Or maybe there were three or four different “Supermen” working in shifts for all I know.
Anyway, I’d been there a few times and seen and done just about everything there was in that Goddamn sex-town, and one hot day in December I landed in Havana with some business to attend to, figuring I’d finish it up in an hour or two and hop back to Miami that same night. No hanky-panky this trip I promised myself. In fact I had a redhead date all lined up for myself in Miami that would put all these fat-ass Cuban whores to shame. I figured she and I would have a little private exhibition, all our own that night in front of the picture mirror in her apartment.
But of course I had the usual pimp parade on me like leeches as soon as I got downtown from the airport, giving me all the usual pitches, and they didn’t like to take no for an answer. They figured that men came to Cuba from the U.S.A. to get laid, period. You tell them you’re not interested and they don’t believe their ears. After all, once you’d seen the Capitolio and the rum distillery and the ancient cathedral in Havana, what the hell else is there left but the whorehouses?
It wound up finally with just this one determined cat dogging my tracks, still trying to sell me some kind of cock therapy. He’d already run through the whole catalogue of goodies for me about twelve times. “You want the woman? Big tits woman? Young girl? Very young! Teen-age schoolgirl for you. She do everything you like. Two young girls – all for you. Two together. They come with you. Your hotel. Maybe young boy? You like the young boy? You say what you like. I fix for you. See the exhibition? Two girls? Three girls? Four? Five?”
Then he got into something that sounded like “done-kee – the done-kee”. I didn’t get the meaning at first, but then I realised all of a sudden that he was pitching for a girl making it with a Goddamn donkey. This was a brand new one on me. I’d heard there were such things that went on but I’d never been steered onto it before. All of a sudden I was interested. It was something people talk about but you don’t get to see every day in the week and I was really curious. That woman with a donkey shit – you don’t half believe it really happens, you know? I doubted that there were two guys in the whole of Philadelphia that could say they’d ever seen it, and here was my chance to be the first in my neighbourhood.
At first I thought maybe it was just a movie show this guy was talking about, but he said, “No – real alive done-kee – fuck pretty young girl for you.”
I cooled down a little when he told me it was going to cost me fifty Cuban pesos, which translates into exactly fifty U.S. dollars. That was the tab for a private performance – just for me, the girl and the donkey – but if I didn’t mind sharing the spiritual experience, I could wait until night and there’d be a group showing for a crowd of tourists at ten dollars a head admission. Well shit, I couldn’t pass that up. So I told him to put me down for a reservation, kissed off my date in Miami and checked into a hotel to wait out the time.
My friendly guide came to pick me up in a cab at seven-thirty and we drove down to the Chinatown section – the driver blasting his horn at every intersection the way they do. We pulled up at a seedy-looking old mansion on a dark street – it had a huge front door about ten feet tall with an ornate grill-work all over it – real old Spanish style.
There was the usual fat madam that let us in and we went across a shitty-smelling courtyard and into the front room of the place. There was a lot of Spanish chatter going on – about how much loot they were going to be able to squeeze out of me, no doubt. I’d already laid out five to the cab driver and ten to the guide, but there was still the beady-eyed Madame to take care of, and probably the girl and the donkey besides. Then there’d usually be a few extra associate whores and apprentice pimps coming around with their hands out before any action finally got under way. There was a lot of featherbedding in these Havana sex factories. Everybody wanted in on the loot, whether they’d contributed to your orgasm or not. They must’ve had a hell of a strong union going for them I guess.
I gave five to the Madame right away to get her off my back and turned a deaf ear to the swarm of young chicks that swooped down on me next, pressing their tits into me and grabbing at my pants the way they always did. The smart thing to do in a whorehouse is to let them grab at your cock all they want but keep your hand in your money pocket and protect that at all times.
The Madame and my guide shooed the girls off me finally and we went inside through about six layers of draperies and came to a big square room with a round bed in the middle and the usual mirrors all over the walls and ceiling. There were about ten or twelve guys sitting around the bed, stateside tourist types. One of them even had brought his wife along with him. She was too prim and plain-looking to be anything but a wife.
The show had already started, but I hadn’t missed anything. This was only a preliminary act – warm-up for the main event. Two naked girls were going at it on the red satin bedspread, one of them was fucking the other man-style with a huge artificial prick fastened onto her lower belly by straps. I’d seen this kind of shit before and it didn’t do a hell of a lot for me. The room temperature was about a hundred-and-nine degrees – they didn’t have air conditioning in the brothels in those days and the tourists were all panting and sweating beads with the heat and the excitement. I pulled up a chair in the second row, away from all those steaming bodies. I figured I’d save my sweat for the donkey act.
Meanwhile the artificial cock was pounding in and out and the fat little broad that was getting it was thrashing all over the bedspread, pretending to have fantastic orgasms. I got more fun though out of watching the tourist’s wife, who was sweating worse than any of the men and looked very uncomfortable. She kept one hand up to her face at all times as if she was afraid somebody from back home was going to walk in all of a sudden and recognize her.
The girls quit their dildo fuck abruptly and broke off connections to move into a new position, but just then the Madame popped in clapping her hands and sang out, “End of act one,” or Spanish words to that effect. Four or five more girls had come in with her, some naked and some in G-strings, and they all climbed up onto the bed and struck leering poses, jiggling their boobs and grinding their hips for our benefit, and the two broads that had been performing got up and joined them.
Now it was up to us to decide which one of the girls we wanted to see getting her well-plugged by the donkey. I voted for a slim little giggly chick with pointy, springy tits and a cute ass, figuring she’d give us a good lively show, but most of the tourists voted for a phony blonde with a big-eyed baby-face and a pair of boobs like Sophia Loren. It figured.
Then the other chicks all disappeared, we pulled our chairs back, and a couple of black Samsons came in and carried the bed away. At that point I was wondering how in the hell they were going to set the thing up. Getting a donkey’s cock into a girl has to be some kind of a contortion, I figured, for the donkey and the girl both. There had to be some kind of apparatus.
Sure enough, they wheeled in a wooden platform and I began to see how they would manage it. The girl apparently would lie on top of the thing on her belly with her legs hanging down in back, spread wide, with her feet in stirrups and her pussy trough wide-open from the ass end. And there were raised-up shelves on both sides of the contraption where the donkey could rest his front legs when he reared up into position.
But the girl – I think they said her name was Felicia – didn’t climb onto her perch right away. She was circulating around among the crowd making friends, thanking all the boys individually for picking her to fuck the donkey, and showing her gratitude with big slurpy tongue-licking kisses and by letting everybody play bouncy squeezy with her fantastic boobs.
When she came by me I passed up the titty feels and ran a handful of fingers up between her legs into her big slimy snatch, which is where I live, baby. I could tell she had a donkey-size cunt all right. Wow! She opened her legs for me and let me get my whole hand up inside her and then she clamped her thighs shut and did a fast wiggle, twisting her snatch around my fist, and at the same time she leaned forward and pressed her big flabby boobs into my face. Whoosh!
She had a real gamy, unwashed stink about her, but it was the raw, basic smell of a woman and that turns me on more than any phony perfume of dainty deodorant. That’s one thing I always liked about those old-fashioned Latin whores – they stank like a woman is supposed to stink. That’s something we’ve lost in this super-antiseptic age, the sensual value of human body-smells.
Anyway, speaking of smells, they brought in the donkey just then and he sure stank like he was supposed to all right. He was a little squatty, stump-legged bugger. Must’ve been half burro. His cock was still limp, but Felicia soon took care of that. She started off stroking his neck and patting his nose and then she pressed one of her big boobies to his mouth and rubbed it around and damned if that donkey didn’t start in licking around the nipple with his big old tongue. She must’ve had honey smeared on it or something. Anyway that gave us all a good laugh.
After a little of that she ducked down underneath his belly and started teasing his prick with her fingers. The donkey shuffled his hooves around and blew out a nose full of snot. She was beginning to get to him. Then Felicia lifted her head up with her tongue snaking out, and damn if she didn’t start in licking the shit out of that old donkey dick. It was the Goddamnest thing you ever saw. I heard a big gasp from the tourist broad. She probably didn’t believe women did this nasty thing to men’s pricks, let alone to donkeys. It sure was a sight all right, seeing that black dong swelling and stretching out like somebody blowing up a balloon. It must’ve wound up at least a foot long at its full extension and she was slobbering over it like crazy, licking it all up and down its length and letting the ugly old thing slide way down her throat and then easing it out again.
Finally she had that bugger so hot and horny he was tossing his head and tail around and stamping his front feet and quivering his withers – he looked like he was going to explode any second. She jumped up then and the two attendants ran out and grabbed the donkey or else he would’ve climbed right up on her then and there before she could get in position. He was kicking around and snorting to beat hell. Felicia climbed onto the platform and got set and then she yelled she was ready, and the guys led the donkey in behind her and let him rear up. Then they ducked out of the way in a hurry. From there on that fucking donkey didn’t need any help from anyone – he knew what to do. He lunged right in against the girl’s ass, his big belly up over her back and his long prong bobbing behind her. It looked like he was going to crush the shit out of her, but with his front legs set in the tracks on each side of her I guess his weight didn’t come down on top of her the way it looked. But his prick was whanging the hell out of her rear end,bumping and butting at it before it found the hole. He finally got down under the crack of her ass and settled into the slot, right on target. But there still was a lot more stomping around with his hind legs and tail twitching before he actually worked it into her pearly gates and started driving it home. Felicia was yipping and yelling the whole time, telling him, “Fuck me, Pepe,” in Spanish and English all mixed together.
Just to see it happening you’d have sworn that fucking donkey was ripping the living shit out of the poor helpless girl, but no such thing. She was even laughing, along with all the yelling and whooping. I don’t know how many times she’d done this act before, but she must’ve been damn well broken in. The donkey kept on humping and humping at her for quite a while. I was surprised – I didn’t think they went on that long. I’d heard that horses just made a couple of quick plunges and shot their wads and I assumed donkeys would be the same. But they must’ve had this bugger trained to hold his fire and make a better show of it for the crowd.
It was wild and exciting to watch – I’ll say that – but a little sickening too in a way. Seeing that fucking ramrod disappearing at least a foot up inside a girl’s guts had to make you wince a little.
When the donkey came finally, he must’ve shot a half-a-gallon of juice up her alley – it came oozing back out all around her ass and dripped down the backs of her legs. She let out a big yahoo and right away the two big boys came out and pulled the donkey back off her and led him away with his prick still a half-a-yard long and a big streamer of goo dangling off the end of it.
Felicia hopped down off her perch, as spry as ever as far as I could see. She didn’t look any the worse for her ordeal, although her body was dripping wet with sweat and her pussy and ass were all lathered white with the donkey’s cream.
“You like?” she said with a big happy smile and we all gave her a round of applause. I was thinking, “wonder what the hell she could do for an encore.” But that was the end of the formal entertainment. Felicia went around the circle collecting tips from the tourists and it looked to me as if she made quite a haul for herself. But she’d earned every nickel of it as far as I was concerned. I only hoped the Goddamn Madame would let her keep a few bucks of it for herself, but probably not. Those Cuban whores lived a real slave existence in those days, from all I heard.
Then all the other girls came back in the room bare-ass naked and tried to interest the guys in a little private hanky-panky to round off the evening. I latched onto the little giggly chick that had caught my eye in the first place, and twenty more bucks to the Madame fixed it up so I could take her back to the hotel with me for an all-night ball.
Unfortunately she didn’t speak a hell of a lot of English. Most of the Cuban whores were recruited off the farms – a lot of them shipped in from Mexico – so they hadn’t had much chance to learn English. I wanted to ask the kid about what it was like screwing the donkey – how the girls got broken in for it and all that. With a lot of sign language and pantomime I found out that she didn’t enjoy donkey-fucking a hell of a lot, this girl. She had only done it a couple of times so far. Felicia seemed to get the call more than any of the other girls, and Felicia loved doing it with the donkey. But this chick of mine – I forget what she said her name was – said that the girls practiced for it with a huge, donkey-sized wooden dildo. The brothel operators would diddle a new girl with that monster until she could take it up her cunt a foot-and-a-half without shitting a brick, and then they’d figure she was ready to tackle the donkey.
This girl had a hell of an elastic twat, I must say, because I didn’t have anything like what that donkey had, cock-wise, but she still gave me a good tight screw all the same. But then, she was still just a teen at that time. Give her another year or two in Havana brothels, fucking donkeys and every other damn thing that came along, and that poor little cunt of hers would look like the Grand Canyon – like Felicia’s.
I never got a chance to check up on the matter though. Castro moved in and took over the whole works before I ever got back to Havana again and I hear he put all of the brothels out of business right off first thing. It must’ve been quite a blow to those poor girls, having to go out and go to work. But the one I really feel sorry for is that donkey. No more screwing pretty pink pussies for him. He must’ve wondered what he did wrong. The lousy communists probably got him pulling a junk wagon or some such thing. Poor little donkey. That revolution really fucked up his sex-life. Through the years, if historians ancient and modern are to be believed, there is hardly a creature – bird, beast or fish – that has not been used for man’s sexual gratification. We have already referred to the Roman arena spectacles, wherein giraffes, leopards, mandrills, bulls and boars were involved in the action. It is also recorded that Roman ladies of that time enjoyed running snakes up their vaginas in the warm weather for a cool, refreshing fuck.
In ancient Egypt both men and women regularly consorted with goats. In the temples, goats were advertised as incarnations of Gods, and were specially trained to provide sex-services to worshippers of either sex. Monkeys were also put to sexual use, dog-faced baboons being especially popular. And most intriguing of all, there are reports that some resourceful and highly adventurous Egyptians of the time even managed intercourse with crocodiles.
Chickens and other barnyard fowl have always been popular and are still often used today. Men also have been known to enjoy intercourse with dolphins and sea-cows, and women have found sensual delight in inserting squirming fish up into their jaded quims.
Sheep and calves have most commonly served men down through the years and continue to be most popular with farm boys today, although horses, pigs and chickens still figure prominently in barnyard action. But the most popular bestial partner of all in the modern world undoubtedly is the dog, and especially among city-dwellers to whom he is the only practical animal readily available. Dogs seem to adapt themselves agreeably to sex relations with humans, serving with either tongue or penis, eagerly cooperative in fucking a human cunt or asshole when offered or slobbering over a honey-smeared prick or pussy.
Women are more likely to favor a dog over all other animals to serve their sex purposes and many an unattached lady keeps a canine lover these days – the perfect partner – always ready – always willing and always absolutely discreet. A dog will never kiss and tell.
But sometimes the ladies will, as in the following case report.
CASE 2: Laura M.
I was married for four years, and for three years and eleven months of that time I was the most miserable mismated wife in the history of matrimony. I’d had my share of affairs before marriage I have to admit, and I’d always thought of myself as a normal heterosexual female that responded with all the proper gasps and twitches when a man made the usual penetrations, but somehow when I settled down into marriage and it became a night-after-night thing, I became a nervous wreck and got so I hated sex completely. I didn’t even want that man to touch me any more for some crazy reason. It was all I could do by superhuman willpower to put up with a wham-bam quick one from him. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me and I couldn’t tell him either, so we just fought and yelled at each other and things went from bad to worse until we wound up hardly even speaking to each other.
If it hadn’t been for this girl friend of mine, Vivian, I don’t know what I would have done. She lived in the same building and was a decorator. She’d helped me to fix up the apartment when I first moved in and then she went on being helpful in all kinds of ways after that. She spent a lot of time with me during the daytime, and I told her my sad stories and let her know all about my sex hang-ups and everything that was bugging me about my old man and men in general.
She never had been married herself but she talked as if she knew the rules of the game pretty well. Anyway, she was a lot of comfort to me when my husband finally pulled out for good. I won’t say that Vivian and I fell into a lesbian relationship exactly. We didn’t go down on each other or anything like that. But we did get pretty huggy and kissy sometimes and I found I was enjoying her holding me and caressing me the way I couldn’t stand my husband doing it to me those last couple of years.
But I was getting more and more confused. What the hell was I, anyway? Finally I up and put it to Vivian in plain down-to-earth terms.
“Am I a lesbian or what? I don’t really know what I want any more. I thought it would be a big relief with my husband gone but now I find that I miss him somehow – miss what he could do for me, if you know what I mean. Even though I could hardly stand it when he did, that last year or so. He bugged me so – always expecting his pleasure right on schedule, night after night. Insisting on his ‘marital rights’. What I need is a nice docile man who’s available and ready to go when I want him but never bugs me otherwise – just up and disappears when I don’t want him around any more. Maybe I should hire a gigolo just for one hour or so a week to come in and cool down my passions. Do they have such things?”
Vivian laughed and said, “Let me get this straight. What you would like is a man with a good stiff member who’s always up and ready when you say ‘go’ and then crawls off and lies down in a corner afterwards and stays there with his mouth shut until you whistle for him again.”
I laughed too. “You hit it right on the head. But I’m afraid there just ain’t no such animal.”
“Ha!” she yelled. “You just said the magic word. Animal. The answer to all your problems, honey child.”
“Animal!” I assumed she was kidding. “What do you suggest – a nice friendly chimpanzee?”
“Hell no,” she said. “A chimp is a mean son of a bitch. Worse than a man even. They’ll bite the hell out of you, those bastards. A dog is the only animal for a woman. They can do every Goddamn thing a man can do for you except soul-kiss, and I can take care of that department for you!”
She was good at kissing. That’s what had me worried about myself. I enjoyed her expert kisses more than I ever did my husband’s or any man’s. But what I was missing was the hard root up in the soft shaft. A good stiff prick, to put it bluntly.
But a dog? I still thought she was kidding. “You’re screwed-up and frustrated, right?” Vivian said. “Can’t live with a man and can’t live without one. A lot of us have that problem. But look at me. Do I seem frustrated? Not for a minute, baby. But did you ever see me dating a man? Forget it – who needs it?”
“Well, maybe you can keep cool just with women,” I said. I figured she was giving me a lesbian confession here. “I can’t just cut myself off from men though. I’m not programmed that way, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, men are fine. I don’t knock ’em. Great to talk to – have dinner with – see a show. But you don’t have to let ’em take any liberties. That’s when they get possessive and bossy. Keep ’em at arm’s length and you get them at your mercy. But when you feel that old crotch-fever coming on you and need something up inside there to scratch it where it itches, – that’s where faithful old ever-ready Bozo steps up and fills the bill for mama.”
All of a sudden with a shuddering jolt I realized that this whole thing was serious. I’d seen her walking Bozo a couple of times – Bozo was a gigantic hound she kept in her apartment. Great Dane, or some such thing. I’d never been able to figure before why she wanted to keep such a huge dog in a small city apartment. But now it all came clear. Apparently she had Bozo trained to “scratch her where it itches.”
I didn’t know what the hell to say. I guess I just gaped at her – thunderstruck. I couldn’t believe it.
“Don’t look so fucking horrified,” she said. “And don’t knock something till you’ve tried it. Come with me, baby. I’m taking over your education right now.” She grabbed hold of my arm. “We’re going up to my place and I’m going to give you a free home demonstration of the kind of pussy therapy you need. No obligation to buy. But I guarantee it’d put that half-ass husband of yours right out of your mind and give you a whole new outlook on life, sex-wise. You’ll be ready and willing to kiss men goodbye and good riddance.”
I must have been in some kind of a daze. I don’t even remember riding up in the elevator. The next thing I knew, we were in her apartment and big old Bozo was leaping up all over her with his tongue out, sniffing and yipping. He must have been able to smell her intentions. Personally I was scared to death of the Goddamn beast. I didn’t even like little dogs. It looked like she had him pretty well disciplined though. She yelled at him to quit his messing around and get in the bedroom and he did just what he was told.
I guess I looked as if I was about to faint dead away, so Vivian fixed me a drink, which I really needed at that point, and then she said, “Now, you Goddamn prissy-ass Victorian, relax here and breathe deeply until your head clears. I’m going in the bedroom and set the scene for you. When I yell; you come on in and you’ll see my free home demonstration of doggy-diddling – the sport of queens.”
She left and I could hear sweet-talking and sniffing and rustling around in the bedroom. By now the shock had subsided and I was just burning up with curiosity over the whole thing. It was so fantastic, I couldn’t wait to see what she’d be doing with that wild Goddamn dog. I still didn’t really believe that she’d actually let him – well, my God!
Then she sang out, “Finish your drink, count three, and come on in, baby. Bozo rides again!”
The dog was making a hell of a racket. I could hear him slurping and snuffling as if he was lapping up his dinner-dish. And then I came through the doorway and my eyes popped out. It was even crazier than I’d expected. Vivian had stripped right down to practically nothing. All she had on was her bra and garter-belt. She was sprawled on her back on the bed with about three fat pillows underneath her rear-end, so that her spread crotch was well up in the air where Bozo could get at it. And was he ever at it! He was standing up between her legs, lapping away at her slit with his long tongue, slobbering and drooling all over it. Actually eating her pussy! Can you imagine?
“Oh no!” I said. “You gotta be kidding.”
“Pull up a chair, oh thou of little faith,” Vivian said. “This is just the beginning. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
I couldn’t even talk – I was speechless. I sat down beside the bed and couldn’t take my eyes off the freaky scene. That wild doggy tongue was going like mad – all up and down her slit and in and out the hollows of her crotch – really lathering her up good.
“Doesn’t that – tickle?” I said like an idiot. I mean, I didn’t know what the hell to say.
She laughed. “You’re Goddamn right it tickles.”
“That’s the whole idea, isn’t it?”
“How – how did you get him to – er – do that?” I said. “Did you smear something on you or what?”
“In the beginning I did, to give him the idea of what was wanted. But he caught on fast. He doesn’t need any inducements any more, just lie down like this and spread it and he takes it from there. Ain’t it a gas? He gets his reward afterwards – you’ll see.”
“Oh, I don’t believe it,” I said. Bozo was really zeroing in now. It was incredible. Right dead center on her clitoris – working it over with his tongue just like a human person. I was beginning to get hot myself, just from watching. Vivian wasn’t talking any more. That crazy tongue was starting to get to her. Her mouth was hanging open and her breath was beginning to come hard.
All I could say was, “Wow – wow,” over and over. Now the damn tongue was poking up inside actually. Pushing into her like a prick. Her legs were twitching and her ass quivering. And the dog must’ve been getting excited too, cause he was beginning to drip saliva and he was panting as hard as she was.
Then all of a sudden she let out a whoop and waved her arms in the air. I guess this was the signal for Bozo to cool it with the cunnilingus and really put it to her. And he got the message all right. He raised up his head and barked a couple of times and then he climbed up over her body and gave her face a couple of licks and she kissed him back. Those two were real lovers, I’ll tell you. Now I noticed his prick was up by her pussy, in position to do a job, and just starting to swell up in anticipation of what Bozo knew was coming. Vivian lifted up her legs on both sides of him and stroked his flanks with the insides of her thighs. This was a huge dog, don’t forget. The same general proportions as a man. I mean, he really covered her.
She arched her hips upward, aiming her crotch right at his pecker to give him a straight-on target to shoot at. It didn’t look like he’d have any trouble ramming it in her from there. Her slit was pretty well-lubricated already too – slick and glistening wet from the dog’s slobbering over it, plus her own juice oozing out from inside.
“Come on, Bozo – come on,” she was whispering to him. “Fuck mama, Bozo. Fuck me, boy.”
He nudged forward and poked his pecker up between her legs and she wiggled a little and pressed up to meet the point of it and put it to the hole. And then with hardly any trouble at all he slipped into the opening of her spread cunt and drove all the way home.
“Go, boy – go!” she hollered out, and he stared humping away like crazy.
I had to pinch myself, I swear. There I sat, actually watching a decent respectable woman in twentieth century America – my best friend in the world practically – letting herself be screwed by a Great Dane dog! I thought such things only happened in stag movies or in opium dens in Algeria or some such place.
He was really pounding it into her – wham wham – with his big brown balls whacking up against her ass with every thrust – and Vivian was meeting every push of his with a bump of her own. She was completely out of this world by that time. I don’t think she even knew I existed any more. Her head was lolling back and forth, her eyes rolling in her head, her jaw hanging wide open. The dog was drooling spit down onto her face and neck but she wasn’t paying any attention to that. She was practically frothing at the mouth herself.
She grabbed onto Bozo’s front paws and lifted them up onto her chest, planting them on top of her boobs, and then she held them there, pressing his hard claws down against her nipples.
I guess she threw an orgasm before he did, the way she was thrashing around and whimpering. I never saw such passion before in my life. But then, I’d never watched another woman get screwed before, by man or animal.
She kept on making these little moaning noises in her throat and the dog started sort of squealing himself, as I guess his own orgasm was coming to a head.
But then it was all over all of a sudden. The dog quit his humping and his head sagged down over her face, and she brought her hands up and held onto his body, keeping him in position where he was with his prick still jammed up inside her. She was puffing like she’d run a twenty-six mile marathon and she had to get her breath back before she could speak to me again.
“We have to – we have to wait,” she said, “until – the swelling on his prick goes down before we pull apart.”
I didn’t exactly get the meaning of that at the time, but she explained afterwards that a dog gets a big puffed-up ball in the middle of his cock when he inserts it into something feminine and starts fucking, and that anchors him inside the cunt, rectum or whatever as if he was riveted there. It only subsides after he shoots his load and goes soft again. If he tried to pull out while the ball was still engorged it would rip the hell out of her cunt and she’d be in big trouble trying to explain her lacerated twat to her family doctor.
That’s how dogs manage to get stuck together sometimes when they fuck. The female’s cunt clamps down so tight on the base of the male’s prick that the blood can’t drain off after the orgasm – the prick stays swollen and the two dogs are clamped together and in big trouble.
I thought it was a funny notion at the time. Little did I know I’d be laughing out the other side of my face later. But Bozo cooled down pretty quick that time and then he backed off from her and she sat up and gave me a big smile. She looked pretty hot and disheveled but very happy apparently.
“Well, how about it? Ever see anything like that before at the afternoon bridge club?”
“God no,” I said. “I almost don’t believe it though. Is it really all that good?”
“Listen – there’s only one way to find out for yourself. Get those clothes off, Miss Freeze-ass. It’s your turn next.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” I said. “You’re used to it and-and he’s used to you. He probably wouldn’t do it with me – would he?”
“Are you kidding? He’s like any other man. Show him a cunt and he’ll fuck it.”
“But it – it looks so rough. Doesn’t he hurt you?”
“It hurts real good, baby. Hurts in all the right places. You won’t believe it till you try it, and afterwards you won’t want it any other way. Bozo is ‘the spoiler’. The only thing I’m worried about is that after one wild orgasm on the end of that bulbous cock of his you’ll want to steal him away from me.”
“God, Vivian,” I said. “This isn’t something I can just jump right into blindly. You’ve got to realize – you’ve really bowled me over with the whole thing. I mean – it’s not exactly an everyday event. Oh Christ, Viv let me sleep on the idea tonight. Maybe tomorrow. God knows, I need something new in my sex-life, but I’m not so sure this is it.”
“Hogwash!” she said. “I know you. If you take time to think about it your prudish nature will scare you out of it. You’ve got to do it right now, while the juices are flowing. You know damn well you’re itching to try it.” She was up and at me then, pulling on my dress. “Come on, Laura. Get out of those clothes. You’ll thank me forever for this, believe me.”
“Okay okay,” I said. “But just the cunnilingus part – okay? Let me see how I like his tongue before I make any further commitments.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “So get stripped and I’ll go get you another drink to loosen your inhibitions. Come on with me, Bozo. Let the lady undress in private.”
I laughed. “Thanks. Whatever else happens, at least I can always tell my grandchildren I was once eaten alive by a Great Dane dog.”
I peeled down, taking off every stitch. After seeing what a slobby sucker Bozo was I figured I was better off naked. I didn’t want him drooling all over my underwear. So I was stark bare-ass by the time Vivian returned with the drink. Bozo scared hell out of me by making a bee-line for me as soon as he got back in the room.
I backed off yelling, “Hold him. Hold him!” I guess I thought he was going to throw me down and rape me on the spot. But he only wanted to sniff around my pussy a little, now that the wraps were off the merchandise.
“I’ll hang onto him,” Vivian said. “You get yourself ready. Pile up the pillows like I had them and make yourself comfortable.”
I lay down the same way she’d been, giggling self-consciously. I felt shameless. I was all sprawled out naked in the bright daylight.
“Open wider, please,” Vivian said, pushing my thighs further apart. “Give him a good wide opening so he’s not cramped for work-space.”
I giggled again and must have been blushing like a school-girl. I told her, “I feel like a picture in a dirty book.”
She said, “Take my word for it – you look like an art masterpiece in a museum. Are you ready? Say when.”
I took a deep breath and said, “I guess so.” Pow! The next thing I knew that great hairy monster was up there looming over me, sniffing me up and down, blowing his hot breath all over my goose-fleshed body. I could have sworn he was about to chomp a great big bite out of me. I was paralyzed. I didn’t dare move a muscle.
“Relax – relax,” Vivian said. “He won’t hurt you. Close your eyes and think beautiful thoughts. He’ll do all the work – don’t worry.”
I closed my eyes and tried to close off my mind too, to everything except pussy sensations. But it didn’t work. I could feel that hot, humid breath hitting me here, there and everywhere and every now and then a drop of warm dog-spit would splash down onto me. I was wishing Bozo would get down below there where he belonged and start his cunt-licking. But all of a sudden I felt his hot vapors hit me right square in the face and I winced and turned my head away, and then – UGGH! He began licking right on my mouth, and when I opened up to make a protest noise his slobby, dripping tongue went right inside. I twisted my head violently and tried to sit up, but his hard paw came right down between my breasts and pushed me back. Vivian finally noticed that I was in trouble and she called him off me, and I was ready to quit the whole business right then and there. I took another drink to rinse out my mouth and get rid of the doggy taste.
I told Vivian, “Tell your friend, the kissing I can do without. Okay?”
She laughed. “Okay already. He just wanted to let you know he likes you. He’s ready to get down to fundamentals now.”
So we started again and this time, thank God, he went right for the crotch. I closed my eyes again and all of a sudden I wasn’t nervous any more. It started right away to tickle like a very, very groovy masturbation. He was hitting the ticklish places all right with a fantastic magic touch. I’d had my slit licked and diddled and fondled and fucked many a time before by fingers and feathers and pricks and tongues, but nothing ever reached me as quickly as Bozo did with that crazy educated tongue of his.
Vivian was talking to me asking me questions, I think. But she should have known better. I was already long gone-up on a cloud-out of sight. I could see what she’d meant now. Who needed a man with Bozo on the scene? Forget it’s a dog doing it to you, I told myself. Just spread your wings and fly!
I began twisting around and rocking my hips. I couldn’t hold still any more. I could hardly catch my breath. My butt came tumbling down off the pillows, but that didn’t stop Bozo. He stayed right in there and I held my legs just as wide apart as they’d go to give him an open field. The crazy trembles were shooting up everywhere through my insides now and I’d just about lost all control. I don’t know if I was whimpering or laughing or screaming or what. I was completely gone. That wild crazy dog had turned my whole freaked-out body into one great big explosive cunt, all five-feet-nine of me. That’s what a woman hopes for in bed but seldom ever finds. She wants to be turned into a complete cunt. Everything else gone until there’s nothing left but wall-to-wall orgasm.
And now I wanted to be fucked! Man or dog – what did I care? I needed a prick right then – a rampaging fuck to split me up the center groove – stuff me from gut to gullet.
I don’t remember a thing of what happened from then on. All I can recall are the feelings inside me – sugar-coated skyrockets. But Vivian told me afterwards that I was thrashing all over the bed so much that I tore the sheet right up the middle and I was grabbing at Bozo and clawing him with my fingernails, yelling, “Fuck me please! Please. Fuck me. Fuck me!”
And fuck me he sure did. With a little help from Vivian I wound up back on my pillow-perch, and Bozo’s ever-ready and rigid prick went ramrodding up my snatch and started pounding away. From there on it was Vivian’s scene all over again, only this time I was flying and she was the ground crew.
All I know of the details are what she told me afterwards, and the physical evidence that I saw with my own eyes after it was all over and I’d come back down to earth.
I went in the bathroom with Vivian to take a shower and clean up. I noticed the following things about myself. I looked as if I’d just come through fire, flood and a street-riot. My entire body was drenched with sweat and various other slimy juices I didn’t dare try to identify. My breasts and ribs and belly were all crisscrossed with little scratch-marks that could only have come from Bozo’s hard claws. Last but not least, my sopping wet pussy, clogged full of doggy-goo, felt as if it had been reamed out with a hot poker. But I wasn’t regretting what had happened – not for a second.
“How about it?” Vivian said. “Did I exaggerate or not?”
“Oh wow!” I said. “The only trouble is, I don’t know if I could survive another round of it. How often do you go like that with Bozo? I should think you’d be worn down to a shadow by now.”
She laughed. “I don’t overdo it. Anyway, when you get used to him it’s much less of a strain. The trick is to be completely relaxed and don’t fight him. Just let it happen to you. You rolled around too much. That’s why you’re all scratched up and exhausted.”
She helped me to wash off and touched up my bruises and then she made me an offer. “Any time you want to shoot the moon again, just say the word. Bozo is always ready and willing. That horny bastard is insatiable. He’d take us both on again right now if we’d let him.”
I laughed. “No thanks, just the same. Give me a week to recover and maybe then again.”
Well, I guess I was hooked, because I found I couldn’t wait a week. It was only a couple or three days later when I started getting very restless and feeling all warm and dreamy the way a woman does when she needs attention. So I called Viv and asked her, “How’s Bozo?”
She laughed. “He’s been asking for you,” she said. “I think he’s in love.”
We got together again that afternoon and it was just as fantastic as the first time. Better, even – because I had no fear or hesitation to start with.
And from then on it was ball, ball, ball, every other day or so. I was screwing that crazy dog more than Vivian was. Man, was I hooked!
In love, I guess – that’s the only way to explain it. And Vivian didn’t mind. She was still getting all she wanted.
This action went on for about a month or so and then Viv told me one day she was going out of town for a week and asked if I’d mind taking care of Bozo while she was gone. Would I? Wow!
Did I ever have dreams of fantastic day and night orgies. Just me and my doggy dream-lover. Alone together! Now I’d be able to do some of the way-out crazy things with him that I’d never had the nerve to do in front of Vivian. I wanted to kiss him all over his hairy hide – suck his 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 a while, circling all around his prick before I came down on it. Then I took his balls into my mouth and rolled them around on my tongue and nibbled them gently. I knew men always liked that and I figured a dog would too. Finally I took his prick in and licked it all over – drew the head out and sucked on it as hard as I could. He seemed to enjoy it all right. But he was getting pretty restless, and I guessed he was in the mood to fuck.
But I wanted to play games some more, so I hopped up all of a sudden and ran into the kitchen to get him to chase me. I figured I’d make him work for his piece of ass today. He came charging after me, but I ducked around the table and ran back out and into the bedroom. He didn’t come in after me right away, which puzzled me. And then when he did come into the doorway, he didn’t seem to be in such a playful mood after all. In fact it almost sounded as if he was growling at me way down deep in his throat.
So I figured I’d teased him long enough, and I started moving forward towards him slowly, walking bow-legged in a sort of crouch, with my crotch spread and my pussy thrust forward.
“Come and get it,” I was saying, very sexy. “Get your hot pussy.”
All of a sudden he took me by surprise. He crouched down like a lion and then leaped onto me and knocked me sprawling on my back. I tried to push him off me so we could get up onto the bed and be comfortable, but he wasn’t waiting any longer and he wouldn’t let me up. He planted his big forepaws right square on my boobs and squashed them flat and then started up a thunderous barking, square in my face. This was something new. Id never heard him do that before. I got the idea though that old Bozo meant business. It was fucking time and no fooling. And just to be sure that I got the message, he leant in and snapped his jaws about an inch from my nose. No more bull-shit, lady.
Then he backed off and I smiled to show him no hard feelings and spread my legs and lifted my hips to let him see I was ready and willing. He sniffed at my cunt a couple of times and bumped his nose against it, and then after a couple more barks it my direction he climbed up into position and brought his prick up to the slot. I raised up a little more and braced myself and he shoved it in me as easy as always and started fucking away. Even faster and harder than usual. I guessed that my sucking on him had really got him stirred up and impatient.
I tried extra hard to make it a good fuck for him this time. As soon as his prick swelled up to full-size in me and filled my cunt, locking us together, I took hold of his ribs and held and rocked and wiggled and humped up and down along with him. I tried to pinch his prick as tight as I could too, hoping I’d give him the greatest orgasm a dog ever had.
But then my own insides start to freak out as usual and I got lost in the ecstasies of my own exploding orgasms until we had blown ourselves out completely. I lay there afterwards, still holding onto his hot flanks, panting from my extra exertions, waiting for his puffed-up prick to cool down and wilt so we could disengage. But this time of all times – with just the two of us alone – that horrible dreaded thing had to happen to us. We were locked together! The big hard knob on his cock was blown up inside me and it wouldn’t go down. Somehow, with all my extra contortions and cunt-squeezing, I’d managed to close the mouth of my snatch so tight around the root of his prick that the blood couldn’t drain off and, for all I knew, he was going to stay hard up inside me forever. I had no idea what we could do, and I was in an instant state of panic. If only I’d had sense enough to ask Vivian what to do in such a case. But she had only mentioned it as a crazy possibility and we’d laughed at it as a joke.
Bozo wasn’t too delighted about things either. He tried to pull back and get free and it hurt like hell when he did. It felt like a barbed fishhook up inside me, tearing at my guts. I guess it was painful to Bozo too though. He whined a couple of times and then turned mean and started barking in my face again. As if it was my fault. I figured the only thing we could do was wait it out and try to stay relaxed, hoping the muscles or whatever would loosen or something and undo us eventually. But what a drag!
I held onto Bozo and pulled him down beside me and we just lay there together for what seemed like an hour at least. But it was no deal. His prick looked as if it was going to stay hard forever unless we did something about it. But what?
I guess it was the first time it had ever happened to Bozo too, and he was pretty confused about it all. Every now and then he’d start thrashing around in a new try at breaking loose, and every time he did it, my cunt was getting rawer and rawer inside from all that chafing.
And then as if that wasn’t bad enough, after awhile he start getting horny again and wanting to fuck some more, of all things. All of a sudden he began a whole new humping sequence and I thought I was getting my cunt reamed out with a barbed wire dildo. Wow! And that miserable beast just kept on fucking me and fucking me – I thought he’d never quit.
I couldn’t hold him still any more after that. The more we thrashed around and humped away the weaker I got, pretty soon I was just plain at his mercy. When he moved, I moved with him – hanging on desperately, trying to minimize the God awful frictions inside my tortured cunt.
I didn’t have the faintest idea what to do about it. Go to the telephone?
Who would I call? Imagine trying to explain a predicament like that to anyone and then get myself arrested for bestiality on top of it.
Prominent local woman caught in bestial act. I could see the headlines now. And I could go on the I’ve Got A Secret television show and win a bundle.
The only thought that occurred to me was that I’d heard of people throwing water or turning a hose on dogs when they got locked together. If Bozo and I could dunk ourselves in an ice cold bath – that might jar us loose. But getting that monstrous beast in the bathroom was a major project that was beyond me. He showed no inclination at all to move in any directions that I suggested.
So we lay on the floor together endlessly and every hour or two he’d start a new round of thrashing about, which would always wind up with him getting horny again and starting anther session of excruciating fucking in my mince-meat snatch. By now my inner canal was so swollen and inflamed, it was an even tighter fit than ever around his fat cock, and all more searing agony for me with every move made.
At last I managed to get to the kitchen with him in one of our cooperative mobile periods and we shared some meat scraps from the refrigerator, and then lay together on the kitchen for some hours afterward until I finally fell asleep, completely exhausted. I woke up in the middle of the night, a mass of aches and pains, and it took a minute for me to remember where I was and why. But then in a sudden flash of joy I realized that I was lying on the floor alone. Bozo was gone. While I slept he had achieved detumescence apparently and we were free again. I staggered into the bedroom, hardly able to walk, and collapsed on the bed. My whole belly was on fire and I was very much afraid that I had suffered serious internal damage.
And then the damn nightmare wasn’t over yet. I was just dozing off again when Bozo suddenly loomed over me, blowing his seamy breath in my face, and he jolted awake with a couple of loud barks.
“Oh no,” I said. “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 to me at that point. When he barked again I barked back at him just as loud. “Get off! Go! Get out!” He snapped at me but I swatted him on the side of the head and managed to slip out from under him and escape. He jumped after me and gave me a nip on the arm when I pushed him away, but after a lot of hassling around and a couple more minor bites on the legs and feet as I kicked at him. I finally got him out of the room by superhuman brute force and slammed the door on him. He pawed and scratched at it and barked his head off all the rest of the night, but Bozo and I were finished. The love affair was over – period.
By morning he was too hungry to be thinking any more about sex, thank God, and it was safe for me to come out again. Even so, I wore several layers of clothes and extra-heavy pair of slacks for protection, just in case.
I had to keep the damn beast with me the rest of the week as per my agreement with Vivian. I couldn’t just toss him out in the alley. But I sure didn’t let him take any more liberties. I kept a broom handle near me at all times to belt him with in case he got any more horny ideas. But there was no problem, since I never stripped down again in front of him. That’s what turned him on – the sight and smell of naked pussy. He was as docile as a lamb as long as you kept yourself decently covered.
I was very relieved to find that my tormented pussy was not seriously mangled after all and needed no major medical attention. By the end of the week in fact it was as good as new again. And a whole lot wiser besides.
Needless to say, I’ve given up animal fornication for good – gone back to casual sleeping around with male human animals exclusively, a return to the habits of my bachelor-girl days. Men can be problems for a poor defenseless woman and they certainly can bug you in all kinds of ways, but its reassuring to know that when you lie down with one of them and when the fuck is finished the meshed connections will come apart again without major surgery.
