From that point on he just took over management of the whole operation himself. I didn't have to do a thing but hang on tight and ride with him. I let go of his testicles — which began slamming like tennis balls up under my ass — and just grabbed on to his huge hairy hide and took off in orbit. My whole body was rocking and shivering as if I was riding a bucking horse. He played rough, once you turned on his switches. Wham! Wham! Pow! Pow! His prick pounding my guts — his balls beating my ass — his belly bumping the breath out of me — boobs wallowing all over my chest — my head bobbing around like it was on a spring — my hair flying in all directions. Eee-yow! Man or monkey, this was the fuck of a thousand fantastic dreams — the fuck you never expect to experience outside your erotic fancies. I had always enjoyed a good rough ride, but this was the absolute end.
His prick was going up and down my chute a mile-a-minute and reaching up into my belly to places I wouldn't have thought possible. I couldn't even count the orgasms. They just started popping all up through my guts and shot through me in every direction until my whole body was just one big orgasm — arms, legs, everywhere — just EXPLODING! Even my head. This crazy bombed-out drunk feeling in my head that I'd never felt before in a fuck. Like I was freaked-out on some kind of goof-balls.
But the goof-ball was his prick in this case — driving me out of my cotton-picking mind.
Then all of a sudden he grabbed onto me hard and slammed me up against him. His arms wrapped around me and just squeezed. I thought it was the end of me. It felt like he was crushing my ribs — collapsing my chest — I couldn't breathe — my face was buried in a muzzle of hair. And there I was, suffocating — but exploding inside with a million crazy orgasms all at the same time. Heaven and hell simultaneously.
That's when Wimpy shot his load. I could feel him shooting off inside me like spurts of white-hot lava scalding my guts. And still he held me and held me until I was just on the verge of passing out altogether.
But then at last it was all over. The prick-pounding stopped and he slowly relaxed his grip and let me breathe again. I was drenched in sweat from head to toe — mine and his combined — and I didn't have an ounce of strength left in me. I just lay there panting against him, clinging tightly, completely satisfied for the first time in my young life. And madly in love for the first time in my life besides.
All I wanted to do was just lie on his woolly breast forever. At least I hoped that he'd let me stay there for a little while, all wrapped up in his rough warmth, but I didn't expect any favors. I knew how bored men get right after the orgasm, and I figured monkeys probably were no different.
But he didn't seem any more inclined to move than I was. He must have got a pretty good charge out of the action himself. After all, it was a brand new first-time thing for him too. He went back to plucking at my boob and nudging it back and forth and that was okay with me. I could see that we had got off on the right foot of what was going to be a long and beautiful friendship.
After awhile his cock dwindled inside me — I could feel it happen, and a cold draft of air suddenly hit up into me. Then he pulled out of me altogether and it great big flood of his come-juice came rolling out my cunt and dribbled down over my leg and ass.
I laughed and said to him, "You lying rascal! I thought you said you used it rubber."
He squeezed my boob to let me know what he thought of that shitty joke.
A little latter I began to feel the urge coming on me again for another go-round, and I reached for his prick and started in on it with a new lot of pulling and squeezing, but I guess he'd had enough for one night. He let out a snort and jerked away from me, and I went off his lap and down — CLUNK — onto the cold hard floor of the cage. Wimpy went lumbering off, shaking his ass at me, letting me know the party was over. See you around, baby.
I could take a hint. Anyway, that was action enough for the first night for both of us. He was right. No sense rushing things. Tomorrow we'd tackle lesson two of the course, although I wasn't too sure from here on whether it would be me teaching him or him teaching me. Now that he'd got the hang of things, I had a hunch it was going to be Wimpy's ball game the rest of the way.
NOTE: Valerie carried on her affair with Wimpy for several months after that. She cut herself off from the circus men entirely and once they all realized for sure that she had apparently gone celibate on them, they quit bothering her and left her to her animal friends.
The only member of the circus who found out about her secret love affair with Wimpy was a young man named Pete, who had been working as an attendant and ticket-taker on the merry-go-round. One night, being drunker than he was allowed to be and looking for a place to hide out overnight, Pete sneaked into the number two monkey wagon and crawled under an empty cage. There, a little while later, he was a flabbergasted witness as the aloof Miss Valerie staged one of her flamboyant monkey-fuck performances, never intended for the eyes of an audience. Valerie tells about it in a later chapter of her manuscript:
It just happened that night that I was in an even wilder mood than usual and I was really laying it on. Wimpy and I had been screwing each other's asses off for quite a long time then, and we had got so we made an elaborate game out of it. On that night I was down on all fours — bare-ass naked of course — scrambling around the Goddamn cage with my ass in the air, yapping and squealing like a female monkey — scratching my ribs — flipping my boobs. Pete must have thought I was stark raving loony.
Wimpy chased after me for awhile, never quite catching up. That was all part of our game. Then I jumped up and grabbed onto the bars and climbed up about eight feet high on the side of the cage, out of his reach. So there he was down below reaching for me, grabbing at my ankles, chattering away, and there I was up there hanging on the bars, kicking down at him, spitting, calling him a big hairy motherfucker and every other name. Of all nights for somebody to be spying on us. I could have killed that sneaky bastard.
It ended with me jumping down and landing right on top of old Wimpy and he caught me like he always did and we went down onto the floor together. Then I rolled over away from him and got up on my hands and knees; with my ass in his face, and making monkey noises again. This was going to be a plain old-fashioned monkey-fuck — in from the rear-end, under the ass and up the snatch. I gave Wimpy a good spread to aim at and wiggled my ass at him and he slipped up behind me and eased into position. Man, this was his kind of fucking.
He slipped his prick up inside with no trouble at all — we had our parts pretty well tooled to a fine fit by then. I'd developed a perfect monkey-cunt, just for him. So there he was whanging away against my ass and me bending the knees and bumping backwards to help the action. As usual his long arms came around under me to play squeeze-ball with my boobs.
Pete said later that he thought he must be asleep in a drunk dream, I mean who would believe a sight like this — drunk or sober?
We pounded away to our usual A-bomb orgasm and then we wrestled around with each other, making more monkey noises, and all through the whole nutty scene that kid Pete wouldn't pop out and show himself. He let me go on making it jackass of myself and then finally — when I'm climbing down out of the damn cage, all smeared up with crud and straw and dripping sweat, looking like it bedraggled sewer-rat, then he sticks his head out and says to me, "Good show, Miss Valerie. Didn't know you had it in you." And he gave me a couple of tired hand-claps along with it.