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 started 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 anymore after that. The more we thrashed around and humped away the weaker I got, so pretty soon I was just plain at his mercy. When he moved, I moved with him — hanging on desperately, trying to minimize the Godawful 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 into the bathroom was a major project that was beyond me. He showed no inclination at all to move in any direction 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 another session of excruciating fucking in my mincemeat 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 the more searing agony for me with every move he 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 floor 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 pain, 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. Somehow 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 steamy breath in my face, and he jolted me 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 for 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 pounded 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 anymore about sex, thank God, and it was safe for me to come out again. Even so, I wore several layers of clothes and an 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 it's reassuring to know when you lie down with one of them that when the fuck is finished the meshed connections will come apart again without major surgery.
Chapter Three
In this day and age with hordes of young people, hippy and otherwise, warring against the establishment politically, socially, morally and sexually, there is a great urge among them to try anything at all that's taboo, just for the sake of rebellion. And if the opportunity for a "new kick" presents itself — a kick that's way way out on the deep end of sex experience — a kick that is an absolute no-no to the square world, not only unlawful but unthinkable — that makes it a kick well worth trying.
So inevitably many youths today might be expected at least once to dabble experimentally in bestiality. As one young man told me who had tried his luck at triolism with a girl and a large woolly dog, "Why the hell not, after you've done everything else? Anything that the straight world's moral spokesmen say is absolutely forbidden can't be all bad. Like so many of our stupid taboos, where's the harm in it actually? Me and my girl and the dog all enjoyed it, that's for sure."
Another boy of my acquaintance, a college dropout who has since gone to Canada to escape a draft call, gave me the following account of a group experience in impromptu bestiality which is illustrative of the casual way in which such incidents might often happen. None of these young people had any raging inner drive toward bestial sex. The whole incident came up as a one-time-only lark — just another spur-of-the-moment reaching out for kicks on their part.
CASE 3 — Jack O.
We were going cross-country in one of those "drive-away" cars, you know? Drive a car to California — all gas paid. One of those deals. There was me and a buddy of mine, Pedro, and this freaky chick Bessie we picked up in a fried chicken joint along the way.
Somewhere in Tennessee, I guess it was, we passed by this place like a ranch, and there was a sign that said: SHENENDOAH HORSE FARM — BREEDING — STUD SERVICE.
Something like that. And that got us talking.
Pedro says to Bessie, "Hey man, you want in on a little of that stud service? Now's your chance to get the screw of a lifetime for yourself."
She laughs and says, "Are you suggesting that I should fuck a horse?"
I said, "Why not? You've made it with everything else that walks, crawls or flies."
She said, "I'll have you know that I never fucked any creature with more than three legs in my life."
Pedro says, "You ought to try it with a big old fucking stallion one time. One of those huge horse-cocks would be just about the right size for that Goddamn oversize cunt of yours."