Don G. Carpenter, Jordan Stanley Ray, Dr. Garth Mundinger-Klow
Taboo Acts X: Farm Lust
Some Notes on How to Fuck an Animal
Don G. Carpenter
Cross-country bikers who travel cuntless usually discover that to leave one nagging problem behind simply leaves a throbbing one in front. Fortunately, America's farmlands provide an abundance of domestic livestock that can be exploited to reduce the swelling. The biker who uses such means may know that he is practicing a tradition sufficiently ancient to have been denounced by Moses. Unfortunately, sex manuals neglect this dimension of sexual practice. They tell how it's done in a dozen countries, of acrobatic positions, of how to use cunt juice as a sauce for roast squab, but tell nothing of shagging animals. The following treatise may well be the first of its kind. Hopefully, this pioneer work will stimulate public discussion of animal-fucking. Perhaps someone will initiate a monthly journal devoted thereto, complete with centerfolds, advertisements for helpful apparatus, and a question-answer column (which the author hereof, being the only one qualified, volunteers to write). Further, the author hereof swears on a greasy chop manual that the lore presented herein has been gathered from years of attendance to the discourse of plowboys, mule-skinners, swineherds, chicken thieves, and others of like ilk, well qualified to instruct.
Given the brevity of this guide, only the rudimentary procedures appropriate to common domestic livestock can be outlined. Exotic foreign species such as the yak or alpaca and wildlife such as bears and moose are excluded, as are dogs, these topics deserving treatises to themselves.
To consider cows first. Cows are basically nervous. They're like the prick-teasers of the 50's who would bat their eyelashes, lean over to show their boobs, flounce their skirts to show a beaver, and then shriek like hell if some bothered dude tweaked a tit. Cows can be attracted by a handful of cottonseed meal, a piece of bread (preferably whole wheat), even a bunch of grass. They will hang around, switching their tails to show off their cunts, then get jumpy and run off as soon as the cow-fucker gets serious. To fuck a cow requires that it be immobilized, a fact long recognized in rural architecture. As long as milk-maids did the milking, it was done in the open, the cow being kept in place by a bucket of eating goodies. With the development of large dairies, men took over and the barns built to shelter milking were cleverly contrived to assist cow-screwing.
The cow was headed into a stall, its head locked in a stanchion, and hobbles added according to the disposition of the cow and the agility of the cow-bopper. Posts ran up to support the roof at the cow-ass end of the stall, these posts being connected by horizontal 2x4s. The 2x4 presumably provided a place from which to hang milk buckets, stools, hobbles, and so on, but was, of course, carefully placed for cow-shagging, its height indicating the favorite technique. If about a foot above a man's reach, the cow-fucker leapt up, hung from the 2x4, and swung in to hook his heels in the cow's flanks, from which position he could achieve suitable intromission, regulating the stroke with his legs.
Were the 2x4 only slightly above head-high, the screwer clambered over and hung by the armpits. He poked the cow in the ass with a toe and when the cow switched her tail, he grabbed it in both hands, placed feet athwart hamstrings, and by pulling on the tail and heaving with the feet, could effectively achieve his purpose. This latter method lacks the passionate violence of the former, but suggests the method for the itinerant biker who must make do without the niceties of dairy barns.
Having found a cow, enticed it into grabbing range, and tethered it to a fence post, the biker goes behind, removes his boots, and gets his inner tube out. He grasps the tail, catches one ham-string between big toe and the next (like a shower thong), heaves up, catches the other hamstring, and begins to ream properly.
Cows have two serious faults. First, they'll shit all over you. You can't even fool them into dumping first by gigging them with a ratchet handle. The cow waits till the humper starts driving in to finish, then lets out about a gallon of slurpy, green cowshit. The poor, fucking bastard will splash it all up his shirt and get his pants full, and be grateful that he took his boots off. Second, a cow is an indifferent piece, somewhat like thigh-fucking a flabby, lard-loaded, ass-drooping fat woman; that is, hopelessly loose, ill-defined, and unresponsive, like screwing a plastic bag of warm Jello. Calves are some improvement, but their common diarrhea-like ailment known as “scours” renders them totally unfit. Yearlings are best, like median-age women, less full of shit but not yet become vindictive. As a final note, the beef breeds, Angus and Hereford, are most tractable. Of dairy breeds, Shorthorn and Brown Swiss are preferred to Holsteins, which are especially likely to shit, and to Jerseys, which are just too damn nervous.
Horses are better than cows. Like some women, if you can get close enough to talk to them, you can probably screw them. Also, like women who must be taken to dinner or who get hot giving head, edibles, preferably raisins, can seduce them. Sugar cubes are used only in kids' stories. A horse will stand still to be fucked, but won't tolerate any messing with its tail or feet. Hence, cow technique will not work, and a horse-fucker must have something to stand on. Traditionally, horses were “stump-broke”; that is, trained to back up to a stump, presumably to aid a bareback rider to mount and dismount, but, in fact, to assure cooperation when the plowboy wanted a piece. If biking in a group, members can support each other in turn. Else, the horse can be backed up to a parked scoot, provided it has cooled.
Horses don't like hot, greasy metal smells. A horse gives a good fuck, if a frustrating one. The big ass interferes with getting in deep, and while it's warm, firm, and confining, the horse fucker senses a tremendous amount of unused cunt that he simply can't reach. Guys uptight about their bore and stroke shouldn't screw horses.
Hasty fuckers will prefer goats, the most convenient of all animals to screw. An adult nanny stands just high enough for a bent-kneed fuck and the tail flips up as soon as the goat feels something poking at its snatch. A nanny gives a good fit and puts up no objections. In fact, that's what's wrong with goats. They just don't care. A goat can take on a whole bike club and chew its cud the whole time. A cow gets nervous like something wild is happening; a horse gets comfortable, like it digs what's happening; but a goat, like a Tijuana whore paid in advance, doesn't care whether anything is happening.
Sheep are one of the choice pieces among quadrupeds, a fact long known (and kept suppressed) by shepherds. Like the girl next door, sheep want the fucker to be friendly, kind, and just aggressive enough to do the job, and they give back a fair fuck in return. The sheep will look over its shoulder a lot; hence, the idea that one must kiss a sheep, a notion that has led some authorities to urge a sheep-superior position, i.e., biker supine, sheep's forelegs astraddle his chest, etc. The idea is just plain silly. A sheep doesn't give a rat's ass whether you kiss it or not. Sheep do groove on sniffing each other's asses, so a foul-breathed sheep-fucker can blow some her way. However, it's hardly a necessary gesture; sheep certainly don't insist on it.
Now, while a sheep is a good piece, it may, unfortunately, have VD, either clap or syph. Indeed, some medical historians believe VD came to people from sheep. Sheep-fuckers should avoid any that are obviously dripping foul stuff, and should carry protection for others. Rubbers, “sold only for the prevention of disease,” are readily available, and if not, a prophylactic buffer of grease can be applied to the moving part. Vaseline is a virtual standard, but wheel-bearing grease will do as well.
Some users report gratifying results with coarse fiber grease, while others say a rapid stroke requires a proper high-speed lithium-base grease with molybdenum additives, and yet others insist on vegetable-base lubricants, since petroleum-base lubricants form carbon under heat and pressure, wherefore the sheep-fucker may withdraw his pushrod to find it coated with black, carbonized grease that requires repeated applications of Gunk or, worse yet, steam cleaning to remove. Given the potential difficulties, a sheep-fucker should carry rubbers.
Though easy to screw, sheep are stupid. You can't develop a meaningful relationship with a sheep; hence, the notorious promiscuity of shepherds. The animal that demands personalized cuddling and which returns affection with an excellent fuck is a pig.
The pig-fucker must enter the sty casually, like cruising at a party, as if getting laid were the last thing on his mind. He must greet each sow and give a scratch or two. Once he has chosen one, he must devote full attention to her. He kneels on one side and scratches behind ears and down the snout with one hand while the other hand scratches along the back and sides until reaching the tail, at which point the first hand works back and sides while the other hand goes under the tail to rim the cunt. Thorough courtship involves finger-fucking to assure the sow is ready. Meanwhile, the pig-screwer must gently ease the sow into a corner of the pen, thus to inhibit her lateral movement. Any movements she can make will be agreeable fore-and-aft motions. Once she is cornered and finger-fucked into readiness, the biker inserts his rod. However, he must not slacken his caresses. If the sow thinks she's being taken for granted, she will sit down. And if the other sows see that, you'll never get screwed in that pigsty.
A pig will not cooperate with a fucker who thinks she's too easy. A pig is an even better piece than a sheep, and a well-fucked sow will grunt appreciatively. Opinions differ, though, on whether a pig is best of all. One ancient declared wistfully, in his impotent dotage, that “I've fucked just about everything, but I always liked pussy best.” Asked about “second best,” he replied at once: “A chicken.” The old man knew his fucking. If a pig isn't second best, a chicken is. A hen doesn't need much petting, but she does need to be talked to. Some authorities view this talk as like that used on those women who will be divested of garments and shagged in every position as long as the word “sex” is never uttered.
Others view it as the “sweet nothings” that add their own dimension to getting laid. Either way, you've got to talk to a chicken. The approach begins with the chicken-fucker getting down on all fours to establish eye contact (while avoiding inadvertent hand contact with chicken shit), and saying “kuh-kuh-kuh.” That's the basic line, but it can be varied to “keh-keh-keh” or “kee-kee-kee,” if uttered in tones of sincere passion and devotion. Don't, however, say “chickey-chickey-chickey,” for that's how farmers call chickens. To a chicken, it sounds like an order, which is a turn-off. Once a chicken comes close and begins to respond to the small talk, a hand goes under its breast and belly and the hen is lifted up. Once its feet lose purchase, a chicken will sit still. However, the chicken-fucker must keep talking as he gets his cock into place. Don't be offended by the thought that a chicken's asshole and its cunt are functionally the same aperture, of which only one is provided. The chicken isn't going to apologize for it, and certainly, among humankind, the former has been taken for the latter often enough and the fucker never the wiser.
As with a porcupine, a chicken must be screwed carefully. Even allowing for the exaggeration of bike-club boasting, your average Rhode Island Red can't accommodate more than half the average biker's cock, a Leghorn no more than a third. However, as anyone who has watched an egg being laid knows, that half or third can enjoy some extraordinary hospitality.
The old fucker quoted earlier added a note on how chicken-screwing could be elevated to the sublime. “Just as you go off,” said he, “you cut its throat. That last, dying quiver…”
This refinement presents the biker with a dismaying choice. To cut the throat of the chicken he has spoken to so intimately, the hen he has cultivated so carefully, seems to border on murder; to kill for mere lust seems gross beyond mention. Yet, one has not properly fucked a chicken unless one goes all the way.
Rural tradition did not view the matter as morally reprehensible. Usually, when the family got home from church, the farmwife sent a twelvish son to fetch a chicken for Sunday dinner. Son fucked the chicken before killing it, and enjoyed the dying quiver as a concomitant to obeying his mother's orders. The biker, then, can resolve the moral dilemma simply by taking the chicken along for roasting over the campfire. Recalling that to spare the chicken may only mean its ultimate delivery into the fatal custody of Colonel Sanders can obviate any further doubts.
In cutting the chicken's throat, the knife should be placed behind the neck and directed forward and down. To cut from under and upward may result in a face full of chicken blood that severely distracts from that exquisite dying quiver. If buddies help, they can see to the cutting while the fucker concentrates on the quiver.
More could be said, of course, but as most readers hereof will be novices at animal-fucking, they should concentrate on mastering the fundamentals outlined here before attempting creative variations. Even the elementary level of animal-fucking will provide the cuntless biker's rigid striker with solace superior to that available from a grimy hand.
Donna on the Farm
Jordan Stanley Ray
I'd been going with Donna for almost a year and knew she was into “kinky” and liked to try new sexual adventures. When she was in just the right mood, she liked to be bound and mildly tortured. Not any real pain, but just enough discomfort to remind her that she had given me complete control of her body. She said she hated it when I'd bring her tightly bound (and sometimes gagged) body to the edge of orgasm and then stop but I knew she didn't want me to stop doing it as a part of our “play”. We had set up a Master/slave part of our sex life and she loved being dominated from time to time and “forced” to do things the “real” Donna would never do.
Introduced her to anal sex that way and it soon became a part of our “normal” sex life as well.
Donna was a stunning brunette of 23 with long hair blonde and brilliant green eyes that flashed fire if I went beyond what she was prepared for. I always took that look as a signal to back off and build her up a little more before going ahead with whatever it was I wanted her to do. Her body cannot be described as “perfect”. She tended to think of her shape as “too hippy", but it seemed just right to me. At five feet, one, and 105 pounds, she was certainly petit and her 34-22-35 figure made her look like a miniature centerfold. In fact, she often got modeling proposals from local agencies and photographers and took a few jobs modeling sports clothes and swimsuits. I always got a big kick out of seeing her in an ad or catalog when I didn't expect it. Her breasts were full without being too big for her small body and her vagina was as tight as it could be and still allow entry.
She was lying on her back on the soft carpet of her living room floor and I was kneeling by her head as she gave me some of her very special brand of fellatio. Her mouth was quite small and when she sucked me her lips drew out to thin lines around my cock. She used her tongue constantly and usually tried to get as much of my member into the small cavity as possible but with only limited success (I am rather well endowed, by the way)..
When her Collie “Red” walked between her legs and began to lick at her spread pussy, I expected her to stop and shoo him away but to my great surprise she kept sucking and handling my cock and balls almost as though nothing unusual was happening. I could tell, however, that the dog was having an effect on Donna and her hips began to rotate and thrust in response to the rough lapping of his tongue. For some reason, the sight of Donna being aroused by her dog triggered my pent up orgasm and I began to come hard into her sucking mouth. She gulped and swallowed and milked me with her hands until I was completely spent and, with my softening cock still in her sucking mouth, she reached her climax and moaned loudly as she came. Later, she said Red had never done anything like that before but it sure felt wonderful. I pointed out that Red had seemed to enjoy it too but certainly not to the extent that Donna had. She looked at me questioningly and said, “What do you mean?” I said that Red hadn't come and that really didn't seem very fair. She was very quiet for a few minutes and I could tell she was mulling over what I had said. Suddenly, she assumed the submissive posture we often used when she wanted to be controlled; on her knees with her head bowed and her hands clasped behind her back. This was her signal to me that this was something she could only do at my direction. I knew she was curious but bestiality was well outside the realm of the “real” Donna. “slave” Donna, however, would refuse nothing required by her Master.
I called Red to stand before her and instructed her to stroke the dogs genitals and try to arouse him. I petted Red as she did as I instructed and at first, he didn't seem to get the idea at all. He stood and enjoyed my stroking but seemed unaware of the different kind of stroking he was getting from his mistress. Donna looked at me and said nothing was happening so I suggested that, perhaps, she wasn't using the right kind of stimulation. She pretended not to know what I meant so I said that her hands were dry and might not provide the kind of touch that would get Red's attention. She looked into my eyes and said, “Do you want me to use my mouth?” I smiled at her and said, “Those lips of yours can stiffen a noodle, my dear. I think you should give it a try.” Slowly, she lay down and slid her head beneath Red's rear quarters. I lay down on the other side of the dog to observe and she slid back the hairy outer sheath with her hand to reveal the red tip of his penis. Tentatively, she raised her head and allowed her soft lips to enclose the red flesh as she flicked her tongue against it lightly. When she lowered her head again, it was clearly extended a little further and I said, “Now, you seem to be getting somewhere. I think you should continue.”
“This is so depraved,” she said with a little giggle, and thrust out her tongue to further tease the animal into erection. When his cock was out about three inches, she gently drew it between her lips and began a light sucking. Red was starting to squirm around and hump against her lips as she sucked and I had her get up and kneel on the carpet. I directed Red to a position behind her and he licked her wet pussy wildly. Then, I raised his front paws and placed them on Donna's back. He got the idea almost immediately and started thrusting between her legs. Her vagina was clearly not where he expected it to be and he was nudging against the rosebud of her anus so I reached between them and “lowered his sights” a little so that he slid between her wet lips and entered her pussy.
Donna said she could hardly feel his tiny cock and he kept slipping out, so I took some of the fluid dripping from the lower part of her pussy and applied it liberally to her anus, sliding my finger in to the first knuckle. She gasped and turned to look in my eyes, realizing what I had in mind. “slave” Donna could not, of course, refuse, but the “real” Donna might take control. She didn't. I repositioned Red for entry into her well-lubricated ass and he thrust forward and entered her immediately. Donna lowered her beautiful head to the floor and groaned, “Oh God! This feels so weird!” I had her describe for me how it felt to have the dog's thin prick sliding in and out of her ass and she made the description as “dirty” as possible using words and images that only the “slave” Donna would consider so as to heighten her feeling of submission. When I thought Red was close to his climax, I said, “Now, suck him off.” Without hesitation, Donna pulled free of the small cock and rolled onto her back as I guided the, still thrusting, Red up her body until his stiff red rod-now, almost 4 inches long-reached her lips. She put her arms around his hips and drew him into her mouth, allowing him to fuck her tightly pursed lips. After a few seconds, the dog let out a small “yelp” and I was sure he was releasing his sperm into Donna's mouth. She held him tightly between her lips until he was finished and when she pulled her head away, Red scampered off and she opened her mouth to show me the small pool of white liquid on her tongue. Before she swallowed, I noted that it was much thinner than human sperm and she told me that it had a more bitter taste than mine but was really not unpleasant.
While the “real” Donna pretended that the incident never happened, the “slave” Donna told me how kinky she felt knowing that she had done something none of her friends would even consider. She talked about her sex with a dog often and convinced me that several repeat performances were in order. Finally, I told her we should videotape her with Red. She seemed very reluctant and I encouraged her to talk about her feelings. At last, she admitted that she would like to watch herself with Red but was terrified that anyone else might someday see the tape. I told her that she would keep the only copy in her possession and could erase it any time she wanted and she got very excited by the idea.
We made the tape a few days later and she went out of her way to give the performance of her life and make sure the camera caught everything. She even pulled Red from her lips as he came and let the cum fall on her lips and cheek. Later, she gave me that tape (and several others) as a “gift of trust” with the understanding that no one would ever see it but me. I have kept that trust.
I had managed to locate a man who ran a small far and convince him to rent me his barnyard for some “research” while he was out tending his fields. He went out to work the fields at about seven in the morning, returned to the house for lunch from noon until one and went back to the fields until six. I took the “real” Donna there one afternoon for a picnic and she explored the possibilities with a ram, a goat and a huge Labrador Retriever. By this time, she didn't bother to put on her “slave” persona but had sex in every way imaginable with the animals while I taped everything for her growing collection. She told me about how different each animal's cum tasted and felt and how hard the ram felt in her ass when he pushed all the way in.
There were a few horses boarded at the farm but all were mares or geldings and I didn't think she could do much with anything that size but masturbation. She watched them with interest and I could tell it was running through her mind even though neither of us mentioned it. One day, when we got to the farm, there was a new horse and a pony in two of the stalls that had previously been empty. The horse was a stallion and the pony was also a fully equipped male and I knew from the way Donna looked at them that she wanted to “try everything”. When John came in for lunch, he told us that the stallion and pony were being “let out to stud” and would only be boarding with him for a few weeks. John's tractor had no sooner rounded the barn than Donna was in the stallion's stall stroking his strong back and removing her clothes. When she was naked, she climbed up on his back and lay down to slide her breasts and pussy around his shiny hair. Fortunately, he was very gentle (having been ridden for two years) and didn't mind her being on his back, but I warned her that an animal so big could easily hurt or kill her without intending to. She promised to be more careful and went to the pony to examine his genitals.
She knelt beside him and slid back the sheath of his cock. It appeared to be about an inch to an inch and a half across and seemed to have the potential for substantial extension. Donna returned to the stallion and checked his “equipment” as well. He was securely tethered in the stall but he danced around a bit as her hands went to work trying to bring forth his erection. After a few minutes, she had coaxed about four or five inches of his penis out of the sheath and it was at least two inches across. She leaned down, staying well clear of his hind legs, and took what she could into her mouth. Due to its girth, she could only manage two or three inches of the end and her mouth was stretched as wide as I had ever seen it at that. Of course, I was taping all of this and she turned to the camera and me with a truly wicked smile on her face. “I want this one.,” she said. I laughed and said she was a dreamer, but the pony was a possibility. Then I suggested she at least finish what she had started and she immediately returned to stroking and sucking the stallion's firm pole into her mouth.
She stopped again and said she wanted the horse to fuck her. I told her she couldn't get under either of these large animals safely, but I would try to come up with a scheme to make it possible and safe for another day. Satisfied with that for now, she took him back in her mouth and worked his shaft-now, at least 12 inches long-until he began to come in torrents. Her mouth was flooded at once and she was forced to release him to come all over her face, neck and breasts. His cum overflowed her mouth and dripped down her chin as she swallowed what she could and gasped for air. The stallion came for at least twenty seconds and at one point, his rear legs seemed to buckle slightly and I started to pull her clear, but he regained his footing and she continued to bathe in the horse's hot semen. When he was finally done, she released her grasp on his receding member and walked out to lie in the warm sun, still drenched in his seed. I followed her with the camera and recorded as her hands roamed through the sperm covering her lovely body. I thought about how tiny her body looked beside this massive beast and was convinced she would never be able to handle an organ of that size in her tight vagina.
Two days later, we returned to the farm at about eight in the morning, after John had gone out to the fields. I rigged a strong sling under the pony that would support his weight and found a long crate that was just the right height for Donna to lie beneath the pony on several blankets we had brought along. With her “bed” prepared, Donna began preparing the pony with her now expert hands and mouth. When she felt he was ready, she crawled under him and positioned herself on the crate. His cock was resting on her belly as she stroked it and slid further up the crate to position the tip between her soaked lips. She seemed in a rush to get the pony inside her and I had to caution her to slow down and take her time. I told her not to take any more than she was absolutely sure she could handle as I didn't want to have to rush her to an emergency room and explain what had happened. That thought seemed to sober her up a bit and she slowed down. She slipped the pony's cock up and down the gap in her lips a few times and positioned it for entrance. She held it there for a few seconds, then started working her way a little at a time toward the bottom of the crate. There was a little resistance before the head entered her about an inch and I could tell by the tightness of her facial muscles that she was already stretching as far as she ever had.
The pony started getting restless, wanting to thrust into Donna and I stroked his back and flanks to calm him down. She had worked two or three inches in and her face had relaxed a little as her muscles learned to accommodate this huge intrusion. She continued to stroke the shaft as she moved down to take a little more and, suddenly, the pony pushed forward another two inches in a single thrust. Donna groaned loudly and I was concerned that she had been hurt but it was soon apparent that the groan was of pleasure at being so filled and she started rocking her hips to lessen the depth of the pony's thrusts while allowing his penetration to deepen only slightly each time. Gradually, she worked most of the animal's length into her depths and let him start fucking her at his own pace. She said he was really hitting bottom and stayed far enough up the crate so that the sling prevented him from going any deeper.
She was moaning and calling out from the fullness of her vagina when the pony suddenly let go. With her pussy completely full of pony cock, there was no place for his cum to go but out and it squeezed between his penis and the walls of her vagina and started pouring fourth onto the blanket under her. Donna started coming and the lower part of her body thrashed beneath the pounding of her four legged lover. With her hands, she scooped up some of the semen gushing from her body and covered her face with it, getting as much as she could into her mouth. I backed the pony up a little and helped her crawl out from under him. She lay on the straw of the stable and breathed deeply as I watched the lips of her vagina slowly close to cover the gaping cavern soaked in cum.
When she had recovered, I took her into the house to shower and dress.
Riding back from the farm, she said she had never felt so full in her life, but she still wanted to try the stallion. I reminded her of the difficulty of working with such a large and spirited animal and told her I really didn't like the idea. That night, we made love on her large bed and I was surprised to find that her vagina had returned almost to its original tightness. My entry was a little easier than usual but the friction was still much tighter than any other woman I had ever been with. She said that I still felt the same and that she still preferred my cock to any animal but that the feeling of being filled was completely different. She insisted that we try the same sling and crate arrangement with the horse and I made her promise that she would stop if she experienced any real pain. She assured me she would know if it wasn't going to work and reminded me that even a horse cock is smaller than a baby.
A few days later, we were back at the farm just as John was finishing his lunch and preparing to go back out to do some plowing. He asked how our research was going and Donna told him we were learning new things almost every trip, giving me a small smile as she said it. As John mounted his tractor, he turned and said, “Better watch out around that pony. He's been acting kind of frisky the last couple of days. I think they're getting him out to stud none too early.” We assured him we would be careful and waved as he drove off.
It took a little time to rig the sling under the stallion and I added a couple of ropes leading back to large posts behind the horse so his forward movement would be strictly limited. While I was rigging the sling and finding a higher crate, Donna was enjoying two of the dogs. She was on her hands and knees as the Lab pumped deep into her rear passage and a big Collie was on his back before her as she sucked and licked him to orgasm. When everything was ready, she lay down on the blankets with her face along side the stallion's cock and stroked and licked him to full erection as I ran the video camera. She smiled at the camera and kept saying how nice the horse's cock felt and tasted and how badly she wanted him to fuck her. She was putting on a real show for this tape and wanted to be the ultimate slut. She took more of the horse in her small mouth than I would have thought possible and talked about how she'd love to have him come in her mouth if she didn't have other plans.
By the time Donna turned around and put the huge head against the swollen lips of her pussy, the horse was at least sixteen inches long and two and a half inches around. I put down the camera and applied an entire tube of K-Y jelly to the organ and the waiting vagina it would try to invade. Donna had the tip inside her almost immediately and pumped the shaft with her hands to ease a little of the massive member between her already stretched lips. There was an intense look of concentration on her face and I knew she had made up her mind she was going to make this work, somehow. The horse was dancing around in agitation and obviously wanted to get on with the business at hand, so I petted and soothed him as best I could and she slowly worked a little more into her tiny body. By this time, the lower portion of Donna's belly was already beginning to bulge out slightly from the mass of firm flesh within and I could see her progress directly as the bulge moved ever so slowly up her stomach. She took about twelve inches before she groaned out that he had hit bottom and was pressed firmly against her cervix. I could clearly see the entire length outlined on her belly as she released her grip and let the horse set his own pace. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This beautiful, petit blonde was being fucked completely by a full grown stallion and loving every inch of it. Her head thrashed from side to side as he repeatedly flicked his hips and strained against the ropes of the sling wanting to release his seed deep into this strange mare.
When the horse started to come, the pressure was too much for her delicate insides and she quickly moved up on her bed to relieve the pressure. She moved farther than she intended and when the stallion drew back for a thrust, his cock sprang free of her vaginal grip and began spewing semen the length of her body. She was soon covered from her crotch to the hair at the front of her head and she opened her mouth wide to catch what she could as her hands went to her pussy to complete her own monumental orgasm.
“I've heard about it, but I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes!” The voice came from behind me and I spun around to see John standing about ten feet away. I remembered hearing the tractor motor shut off some distance away about ten minutes earlier, but hadn't given it any thought at the time as I was totally wrapped up in watching and taping Donna's tryst with the horse. John didn't seem angry, just stunned and it was clear he had seen the deep fucking Donna had been getting as well as the very wet climax.
I pulled her out from under the horse and lay her, panting, on the straw. I took John's arm and led him outside the barn. I apologized for our behavior and explained (truthfully) that the lady was a well respected teacher and couldn't stand the scandal if this were to get out. I asked him what it would take for him to forget what he had just witnessed. He smiled and said, “Look, I don't even know your girlfriend's name and she seems so nice I wouldn't want to see her get hurt. I don't suppose there's any damage to the horse, and I don't really want anything from you folks.” He thought for a few minutes and said, “I wouldn't mind seeing her get it on with the animals from time to time and, if she's interested, I would be more than happy to give her a little human loving.”
We visit John once or twice a month, now and he has willingly joined or little “party of preverts” as he calls it. Donna has developed a strong desire for bondage, discipline and mild S/M and she has never refused anything John or I have suggested as a new adventure into the limits of her sexuality John turned out to be a great guy and Donna loves to have him fuck her ass while I fill her pussy or she sucks me off. Our videotape collection has grown substantially and is kept in a safe place. Someday I will release them for the world to see.
The Curious Case of the Sex Circus and Other Depravities from the Roman Empire
Dr. Garth Mundinger-Klow
The sex cirrus is not a modern innovation of the Hippies or Swingers. Its genesis is as ancient as the Roman Empire, and probably a lot older. Gabby old Petronius meticulously informs us quite a bit about Roman morals in general and prostitution in particular, and he does not hesitate to dip his quill into detailed acts of sex, including the two types of sex circuses, one in which only human beings participated and finally the Sex Circus in which humans and animals took part. Roman law was very two-faced but dogmatic about prostitution and prostitutes, even going so far as to prescribe the type of dress prostitutes must wear, so that they could be distinguished from “virtuous” women. Needless to say, a “virtuous” woman in ancient Rome was more than a non-drinker on Skid Row. Roman women who played-for-pay were not permitted to wear the stola, a loose-fitting garment which concealed the form, or the vitta with which Roman ladies bound their hair, they could not wear shoes or jewels or purple robes, as these were the insignia of virtue. Instead, whores died their hair red or yellow and wore the toga like the men! Instead of shoes, they wore sandals tied at the instep with leather thongs. Their dresses had to be of flowered material.
Theory of law is one thing; practice is another. Prostitutes did wear jewels tons of them and purple robes; and they did wear garments that more than revealed their ample curves, such as silken robes from Tyre, whose texture was almost as thin as air. Red hungry nipples and dark triangles of pubic hair could easily be seen through these robes.
Roman prostitutes were not strangers to venereal disease either, a fact that somehow escapes modern writers. We do, however, find later Roman writers referring to morbus indecens (indecent ailments) such as the rubigo, the elazomenae and morbus campanus. However, it must be admitted that the ancient writers do not directly attribute these diseases to sexual intercourse with prostitutes. Just what these diseases were, we will never know for certain. If they were not gonorrhea and syphilis, they very strongly resembled these age-old sexual ailments.
Sex Circuses were common, too, orgiastic activities which prostitutes gave for assembled customers and even for the emperors although in the latter case the whores were better paid and “better class” courtesans, offering their perverted services to only the patricians and disdaining the “common people.” In these harlequinades as many as ten couples would perform men and women engaging in every sexual perversion known to the human race. Men would fellate little boys and vice versa; there were acts of anal intercourse between men and boys, mutual fellatio in the sixty-nine position; tribal spectacles between women and little girls and adult lesbians. There would be living “daisy chains” of men, women and children, and often one woman would perform with four or five men, all the males doing different things to her at the same time.
There was the human/animal Sex Circus, and while such a sexual extravaganza was not held as regularly as the type involving only human beings, it was a thousand times more common than it is today.
Nubians (male and female) were very popular and prized in these filthy tableaus, the males for their huge organs, the females because it was believed that a Negress, having more lust, could perform better. One ancient writer even tells of a Nubian male even killing a she-goat with his tremendous phallus!
We have no way of ascertaining if sex circuses took place during the Middle Ages. The records do not say. Probably not, because the people were so moral or because of the insane attitude of the Church and since the priests and soul-savers fornicated along with the rest of the populace. Sex circuses were unknown because bestiality was so prevalent among the masses. Why pay to witness what was a part of daily living? The people thought like animals, lived with animals and screwed like, and with, beasts.
Morals were so debauched that even art depicted scenes of lust and licentiousness. It is a well known fact that the majority of the great works of Gothic architecture were so profusely adorned with lewd and filthy sculptures that, later, modesty forced their removal. Astonishingly, most of the subjects were taken from religious orders! In some cases, priests and/or monks were represented in carnal connection with nuns; still other sculptures revealed penitents undergoing flagellation at the hands of their confessors. Other bas-reliefs showed monks engaged in connections with animals; and there is one in which a naked nun is shown being raped by a monkey. Nor were such “artistic works” displayed in back streets and in gutters. No, instead they adorned the doors, windows and arches of many of the finest Gothic cathedrals in France, Germany and Italy.
We do know a good deal about the modern Sex Circus. And they are more numerous than the average person might believe. There are those places in every large city, in every nation on the face of the earth, where, for a price, one can witness the most degrading of acts between men and women, men and men, women and women, and between men and women and-yes, animals.
France is noted for its sex which is overblown propaganda but in the mind of the world the French woman is equated with the Negress, both supposedly the ultimate in sexual ability and performance. There are sex circuses in France, with tourists always being in the majority as spectators. It should be of interest to the student of psychosexual matters to note that it is very remarkable how persons who are pillars of society and respectability “back home” feel that they must see such a filthy showing. Some tourists, having been so brainwashed about these performances, feel that it is just as necessary to take in such a sight as it is to see the famous cathedrals and art galleries! Properly speaking, we cannot call these people either latent or active voyeurs, but regular attendants at these spectacles definitely are perverts who obtain a sexual satisfaction out of seeing women and men in the nude, and preferably in the performance of sexual acts. Men and women of repressed homosexual tendencies also attend; by watching homosexuals, they subconsciously gratify their own homosexual longings. And by the same token, the performers are often actuated by the opposite perversity of exhibitionism getting a thrill out of having strangers “admire” their sexual feats.
In Paris the sex circus, or “Grand Spectacle” is usually in the form of a play, presented on a stage, complete with special lighting and other theatrical effects. But the script is always the same: The men and women perform mutual masturbation, fellatio, cunnilingus, analingus, coitus per rectum, coitus per vagina and what-have-you. There are “acts” in which only lesbians (or male homosexuals) perform; and there are those circuses in which men and women and children perform with animals. There are all manner of variations and combinations. Even penis substitutes are used when lesbians perform.
The author of this present study was fortunate enough to find an ex-G.I. who, during World War II, witnessed such a “Grand Spectacle” at the Quartier Latin, a night club in the Place Pigalle. I interviewed him with a tape recorder and gave his story word for word, transcribing from the tape exactly as he told his tale to me. This ex-G.I., now in his mid-forties and balding, is a construction worker in New York City, and if his choice of words are indicative of anything, they reveal obviously that he did not take advantage of the G.I.-Bill, after his discharge, and further his education.
“Well, a bunch of us guys was on leave and in Paris,” the ex-GI explained, “and we decided to take in the sights you know, some booze and some of the French gals we had heard so much about. We went to this herenite club and when this old Frog came over to our table and said that for five hundred francs we could see this 'exhibition,' we jumped at the chance after he told us what an 'exhibition' was men and women fuckin' n' suckin' each other, all sorts of weirdo sex acts.
“Course, this sex deal was not on the main floor of the club I mean for just anybody to see. The average Frog couldn't have afforded it no how. But us GIs was loaded and what the hell is five hundred francs! So we followed this old bird down to the basement, real cautious like. We figured if we was gonna get mugged, we'd slit a couple of throats ourselves. The basement I call it that was really an old wine cellar, one of them large vaulted deals like you see in the movies. But there wasn't no booze there; the Krauts had stolen all the vino.
“In the middle of the cellar was a sort of stage with a bed and some chairs in its center; and facing the stage on one side were boxes and cartons to sit on. When we five guys walked in and man! we were ready for anything, believe me the place was already half full. Even some American brass! There was at least two officers with chickens on their shoulders and a captain and a major. But what the hell! We were on leave, and since the brass was there, why shouldn't we be! Why it wouldn't have surprised me if 'Old Blood amp; Guts' (Patton) himself wouldn't have barged in!
“When there was about oh, maybe forty of us present, the 'exhibition' began. And would you believe it! Two WACS was there, too, sitting right there in the front row. I'll bet they took on a couple of Officers before the night was over. Hell, I caught clap offend a WAVE once. Anyhow, two girls and a man all three stark naked got on the stage, and the old Frog you know, he was a filthy old fart! turned on a spot light. The two girls had black hair and was about twenty years old, and really stacked up. Man, did my mouth water for them nipples! I guess the man was close to thirty. He got on the bed and laid on his back. At the same time, one of the girls crawled up over his face and pushed her bunny box right down on his lips and he began suckin' her, while the other gal got on all fours in front of him and began playing with his peter jackin' him to make it hard. She got it hard in nothing flat and put it in her mouth and began sucking it like crazy real slow and hard, gettin' as much of it in her mouth as she could.
“I don't think the guy ever did 'come,' because when they changed positions and one of the girls laid on her back and the guy began fuckin' her in the mouth, his jock was still as big as a rolling pin. The other dame crawled around in back of him and buried her face in his ass lickin' his red-hole, I guess. Man, what a sight! I ain't never seen nothing like it!