I was beginning to get warm feelings in the gonads about then and so I pumped all the harder, trying to get my nuts off before something happened to interrupt things but I didn't quite make it. All of a sudden everything happened at once. The heifer freaked-out completely and in one violent twist she broke free from Pedro's arms and my prick all at the same time. I wound up with my pecker hanging loose in the open air, halfway to orgasm, and I got a wicked kick on the kneecap besides, that damn near broke my fucking leg.
The calf went prancing off away from me with Bessie still hanging onto her neck, all sprawled out, her legs flying in the air, screeching bloody murder.
Pedro was yelling to her, "Let go! Let go!" But she was hanging on with a death-grip, scared shitless.
With all the cows in the damn field starting to mill around now — every one of them bellowing their heads off — it looked like we were about to get caught in the middle of the God damnedest stampede you ever saw.
And then the final blow. "Oh shit!" Pedro yelled. "There's a truck coming up the hill. Let's get the fuck out of here!"
There sure was a truck. A little pickup with at least three men in it coming to find out who the hell was raping their cows. I made a grab for my pants and started running and trying to pull them on all at the same time.
Pedro was yelling, "Wait! Wait for Bessie!"
I'm thinking, Fuck Bessie. If we got caught, I was the sucker that was gonna get hung for this little caper. So I kept running as fast as I could with my drooping drawers and my busted kneecap, and once I got the pants up and fastened I made it to the car with plenty to spare. The only trouble was, Pedro had gone back to rescue Bessie and he had the car keys in his Goddamn pocket.
So what could I do? The guys from the truck had already grabbed bare-ass Bessie. She was giving them a pretty good battle and screeching her head off, but they had her captured and Pedro too. The game was up, as they say.
So I took a deep breath and said a prayer and then started back up the pasture to join the crowd. All I was hoping was that those guys hadn't noticed me screwing their calf. Farmers don't take kindly to that shit — I know from experience. A man might have his dick into his own cows and sheep and pigs and every other damn animal in sight, but he doesn't like anybody else messing around his livestock — anymore than he wants them screwin' his wife or daughter.
But they'd seen me at it all right. They'd been watching us the whole time with binoculars, the Goddamn perverts, and they had me dead to rights. They could've locked up my ass and thrown away the key forever if they'd wanted to press it. But lucky for me they turned out to be reasonable men.
They took what money we had on us to pay for 'damages' and beyond that they settled for one hump apiece with Bessie. I guess they figured that we'd fucked their cow and so now it was their turn to fuck ours.
Pedro put up a fuss about it but they told him it was either that or jail. We'd already tried jail one time and we didn't want to go through that shit again. Anyhow, I didn't hear any serious objections from Bessie about paying her forfeit. Any time that chick could save her ass from trouble just by giving somebody a fast hump or a suck-off, she figured she was getting off easy.
So the guys spread out a blanket in the back of the truck and had their turns with her, and they sure took their sweet time at it too. But that was Bessie's fault more than theirs. There was no such thing as a quickie with that chick. You might say she took pride in her craft and she never turned away a client unsatisfied. So she gave those four horny hillbillies the full treatment — screw, blew and tattoo — and left them all laughing and full of kind feelings, which I was mighty happy to see.
It was sundown when we finally wrapped up and got the hell out of there. The cows were all back in the barn with their lawful guardians, having their udders jerked and squeezed and submitting to who knows what other acts of bestial depravity.
Nobody in our crowd was talking much.
Finally I said, "Man, we were lucky to get out of there as easy as we did. I've known cow-fuckers to get put away, for ten years or more back home. That's no laughing matter around farm country. The next time you motherfuckers want to see somebody screw a cow, include me out — okay?"
Pedro mumbled, "Those Goddamn hillbilly pricks. They had no right to act like that. They're nothing but a bunch of animals themselves, raping a helpless girl that way. If they hadn't had that gun with them, by God, I'd have beat the crap out of them."
Bessie said, "What's everybody bitching about? Everything worked out great in the end, didn't it?"
And I guess that was true as far as she was concerned. She'd got what she craved out of it, that was for sure. And just to round off her day — since I never had got to finish my business with that heifer — I let Bessie polish off my prick there on the back seat in her own inimitable way. Her cunt didn't exactly clamp down and grab hold of my member the way the calf's did, but screwing Bessie's friendly fuck-hole was a hell of a lot less nerve-racking experience — that's for sure.
And since that time all the beasts I've put it into have been the two-legged human variety — you can bet your sweet ass on that. As far as I'm concerned, animals are for the birds.
Chapter Four
Birds in general would seem to be unlikely candidates for human sex-partners, but there is hardly a living creature that walks, swims or flies that men (and women) have not used to gratify their genital itches, and birds are no exception. Birds of all sizes have served the bestial purpose, from the tiniest songbirds to giant ostriches, penguins at the South Pole, and even fierce birds of prey.
The most famous example from antiquity of apian love is the mythical seduction of Leda by the swan (which turned out to be Zeus in disguise — surprise surprise!) But in actual history birds have much more often been used by men than by women. Around the farmyard this is especially, true, for most varieties of domestic fowl are capable of taking in a penis and affording it the necessary frictions for orgasmic satisfaction. The elementary opening of the bird — the cloaca — serves as a soft, warm and agreeably tight 'cunt' for purposes of bird-fucking. The unfortunate difficulty is that a man-sized penis is more than even a large bird call take inside him without suffering serious internal injury and probable death. So a man violating his own chickens would soon deplete his flock, and if he were to commit outrage on another man's fowls, he would leave damning evidence behind of his crime.
Krafft-Ebing reported several nineteenth century cases of bird-assaults in his book, Psychopathia Sexualis. In one, "a man of high social position" was caught red-handed in the act of buggering a chicken. Great numbers of chickens had been found dead in the village barnyards over a long period of time and an intensive manhunt finally brought the culprit to justice. He excused himself in court by pleading that his prick was too small to fuck women satisfactorily and he had turned to birds in desperation.
In another case, a boy of sixteen, when charged with assaulting a goose, claimed that he suffered "attacks with heat in his head" during which he became so sexually aroused that he couldn't control his raging lusts and then he had no memory afterwards of what he had done.
Krafft-Ebing fails to tell us how these cases were disposed of in the courts. Presumably both the guilty men were turned over to psychiatrists for study of their "sicknesses".
The following case history differs from most of the others in this book in that it is not a first-person confession of a personal bestial experience. The facts related in the account are assembled from various records of the subject's career and from the diary of the girl who became involved with him — data assembled in preparation of the court case that resulted from the affair and its horrifying conclusion.