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 young kid 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 the brothels out of business right off first thing. It must've been quite a blow to those poor girls, having to go out and go to work. But the one I really feel sorry for is that donkey. No more screwing pretty pink pussies for him. He must've wondered what he did wrong. The lousy communists probably got him pulling a junk wagon or some such thing. Poor little donkey. That revolution really fucked up his sex-life.
Chapter Two
Through the years, if historians ancient and modern are to be believed, there is hardly a creature — bird, beast or fish — that has not been used for man's sexual gratification.
We have already referred to the Roman arena spectacles, wherein giraffes, leopards, mandrills, bulls and boars were involved in the action. It is also recorded that Roman ladies of that time enjoyed running snakes up their vaginas in the warm weather for a cool, refreshing fuck.
In ancient Egypt both men and women regularly consorted with goats. In the temples, goats were advertised as incarnations of Gods, and were specially trained to provide sex-services to worshippers of either sex. Monkeys were also put to sexual use, dog-faced baboons being especially popular. And most intriguing of all, there are reports that some resourceful and highly adventurous Egyptians of the time even managed intercourse with crocodiles.
Chickens and other barnyard fowl have always been popular and are still often used today. Men also have been known to enjoy intercourse with dolphins and sea-cows, and women have found sensual delight in inserting squirming fish up into their jaded quims.
Sheep and calves have most commonly served men down through the years and continue to be most popular with farm boys today, although horses, pigs and chickens still figure prominently in barnyard action. But the most popular bestial partner of all in the modern world undoubtedly is the dog, and especially among city-dwellers to whom he is the only practical animal readily available. Dogs seem to adapt themselves agreeably to sex-relations with humans, serving with either tongue or penis, eagerly cooperative in fucking a human cunt or 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 anymore for some crazy reason. It was all I could do by superhuman will-power to put up with a wham-bam quick one from him. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with me and I couldn't tell him either, so we just fought and yelled at each other and things went from bad to worse until we wound up hardly even speaking to each other.
If it hadn't been for this girl friend of mine, Vivian, I don't know what I would have done. She lived in the same building and was a decorator. She'd helped me to fix up the apartment when I first moved in and then she went on being helpful in all kinds of ways after that. She spent a lot of time with me during the daytimes, and I told her my sad stories — let her know all about my sex hang-ups and everything that was bugging me about my old man and men in general.
She never had been married herself but she talked as if she knew the rules of the game pretty well. Anyway, she was a lot of comfort to me when my husband finally pulled out for good. I won't say that Vivian and I fell into a lesbian relationship exactly. We didn't go down on each other or anything like that. But we did get pretty huggy and kissy sometimes and I found I was enjoying her holding me and caressing me the way I couldn't stand my husband doing it to me those last couple of years.
But I was getting more and more confused. What the hell was I, anyway? Finally I up and put it to Vivian in plain down-to-earth terms.
"Am I a lesbian or what? I don't really know what I want anymore. I thought it would be a big relief with my husband gone but now I find that I miss him somehow — miss what he could do for me, if you know what I mean. Even though I could hardly stand it when he did, that last year or so. He bugged me so — always expecting his pleasure right on schedule, night after night. Insisting on his 'marital right'. What I need is a nice docile man who's available and ready to go when I want him but never bugs me otherwise — just up and disappears when I don't want him around anymore. Maybe I should hire a gigolo just for one hour or so a week to come in and cool down my passions. Do they have such things?"
Vivian laughed and said, "Let me get this straight. What you would like is a man with a good stiff member who's always up and ready when you say 'go' and then crawls off and lies down in a corner afterwards and stays there with his mouth shut until you whistle for him again."
I laughed too. "You hit it right on the head. But I'm afraid there just ain't no such animal."
"Ha!" she yelled. "You just said the magic word. Animal. The answer to all your problems, honey chile."
"Animal!" I assumed she was kidding. "What do you suggest — a nice friendly chimpanzee?"
"Hell no," she said. "A chimp is a mean son of a bitch. Worse than a man even. They'll bite the hell out of you, those bastards. A dog is the only animal for a woman. They can do every 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 got 'em at your mercy. But when you feel that old crotch-fever coming on you and need something up inside there to scratch it where it itches — that's where faithful old ever-ready Bozo steps up and fills the bill for mama."
All of a sudden with a shuddering jolt I realized that this whole thing was serious. I'd seen her walking Bozo a couple of times — Bozo was a gigantic hound she kept in her apartment. Great Dane, or some such thing. I'd never been able to figure before why she wanted to keep such a huge dog in a small city apartment. But now it all came clear. Apparently she had Bozo trained to "scratch her where it itches."