The so-called "sexual revolution" has been a matter of public attention for at least a decade now, and one would think that hardly a manifestation of human sexuality would have been left untouched by sociologists and psychologists. But strangely, although the sexual life of the teen-age girl has been studied from many angles, one of young womanhood's most persistent desires has been largely ignored: the desire to have sex with dogs.
"Sex with dogs? Are there really teen-age girls who want that!" even the well-informed layman is-likely to ask. And the astonisliment with which he would ask the question is a good indication of just how much ignorance surrounds the subject.
It is all the more surprising that bestiality has remained so unremarked when one considers just how strong a female desire it represents. In would be astonished if there were a practicing psychiatrist or psychologist in the country who had never had a woman patient who admitted to bestial fantasies. And many of my colleagues have, like myself, heard thoroughly convincing accounts of actual consummated sexual relations between their patients and the latters' pets. For despite the fact that the conventional person for whom the established moral order is important often deludes himseif into thinking that sexual practices which really offend him hardly ever take place, this does not alter the fact that woman-animal sex does indeed occur, and far, far more often than most people would suspect.
The subject of bestiality is so largely untreated that I have decided that it would be helpful to deal with a specific manifestation of it, so that by studying a part of the phenomenon in real depth, the educated layman for whom this book is written may be helped to a larger understanding of the topic as a whole.
This book, therefore, deals with the subject of teen-age girls and dogs. For although teen-age females certainly have no monopoly on animal sex, they are, for reasons which will become apparent in the course of the book, perhaps more drawn to animals than older women are. And since the patients whose cases are recounted in the following pages are a-like in age, the reader will be able to see all the more clearly what the other factors are which can lead a young girl to want a dog's penis in her vagina or tongue on her clitoris (to name but two of the various acts which women engage in with dogs).
In my opinion, no account can match a first-person one for accuracy, and that is why I have decided to allow the girls themselves to speak in the following pages, without making any attempt to eidt their language. In the following pages, the reader will find the narratives of five teen-age girls who for various reasons decided to engage in sex with dogs. Following each case is a short summary by me of what I regard as the most important features of the case. And a conclusion at the end of the work will help to tie the whole thing together and give the reader a clearer idea of the general phenomena which lies behind the specific cases which have been presented to him.
CASE HISTORY ONE
A number of years ago, I was engaged in a study of rural sexual practices, and went to the Indiana farm belt to obtain first-hand information on the sorts of sexual acts that country people engaged in.
The small farmer is a traditionally very proud individual, and it was not easy to collect information. But I was gradually able to win the friendship of several families, and the members of them eventually were willing to give me some details about their sexual lives, partly, I think, because they were flattered that a city-slicker psychologist was interested in them.
Cindy Mae, the F.'s sixteen-year old daughter, was clearly very excited by the prospect of telling her story to me, once she had gotten used to the idea.
"Of course," I said to her, "You needn't worry about my telling your father any of this, and your name will be changed in the book to prevent anyone from identifying you." It is, of course, absolutely vital in all psychological investigations, to assure the subject of the most strict confidentiality. Or at least, it is vital in all but ones like this one.
"Oh, don't worry about that," Cindy Mae said. "Dad knows all about me and Ol' Henry."
"Ol' Henry is a boyfriend?" I asked, intrigued by what she had just said.
"Well, not exactly a boyfriend. More of a dog-friend, if you know what I mean."
"Ol' Henry is a dog?"
"He's that big ol' beagle you saw snoozing in front of the living-room fire."
"You have sex with him?"
"Sure do. All the time."
"And your father knows and doesn't mind?"
"Knows? Gosh almighty, he watches!"
As the reader can imagine, my investigative curiosity was thoroughly aroused by now. I had heard of many things in my years as a psychologist, but never of a girl who had sexual relations with a dog while her own father watched.
"Well," I said, "I'm certainly very interested in the story that you have to tell me, so maybe you'd like to get on with it."
"Sure," she said, and without more ado, she started in on her account....
I guess that I was about twelve the first time a boy fucked me. And man, I ain't never looked back since then. I mean, it sort of hurt that first time, what with Jake-that was the boy-busting my maidenhead and all, but through the hurt I could feel what a real neat sensation it was to have that hard prick shoved up inside my twat. As a matter-of-fact, since then, I fucked pretty regularly with Jake and with other boys, too. The only trouble was, though, that it wasn't all that easy to get hold of boys, not on a short notice or anything. We're all pretty isolated, with the farms a good way apart, and of course on a farm, there's always plenty of chores to be done, too, so I can't just go gala-van ting off to get my twat banged.
One day, about a year and a half ago, I felt like I was going to go right out of my ever lovin' mind if I didn't get some prick inside me fast. You know how it is, doctor, when you want a fuck so bad you think there isn't anything in the world that you wouldn't do in order to get it. I tried beating myself off, even using an old soda bottle so it would be more like having a prick inside me, but man, there's all the difference between a soda bottle and a warm, throbbing prick that can shoot lots of jism up into your girl-hole.
I had my morning chores finished, and there was about a half hour or so ahead of me when I could relax a bit before getting on to all the things that I had to do that afternoon. The trouble was that unless I got some prick in my cunt, there wasn't much relaxing that I'd be able to do, and half an hour wasn't long enough at all for me to get over to Jake's place to get my twat serviced.
I was walking along in the farmyard when I noticed Ol' Henry snoozing away in the sun. We call him Ol' Henry, but there's still plenty of life left in him, as my clit and cunt were about to find out.
Not having anything else to do, I sat down next to Ol' Henry and started to stroke him and tickle him behind the ears. For some reason, I decided to stroke him on the belly, too, as he lay there on his side. Well, my fingers just sort of happened to brush against his prick sheath, and did I get a surprise. I could feel the thing start to slide out into the open, just because of that little touch that I had happened to give to it.
"Now ain't that interesting?" I said to myself. I put my hand around the prick sheath and stroked and rubbed it a bit. Sure enough, the rod slid on out into the open some more.
It was getting harder and harder, and just feeling a hard dick between my fingers was really starting to give me some ideas. Sure, it was dog dick, but that didn't mean that it didn't feel wonderfully stiff and alive. If I got it up my cunt, I was sure that it would be able to give me a really nice bang.
I was going to have to look kind of snappy if I wanted to get finished with Ol' Henry before it was time for me to do my afternoon chores. And now, I knew that I just couldn't pass up the opportunity that this dog-cock offered. My panties were already so wet that they were clinging to my cuntlips, really sort of chafing them, but making them more and more excited, too.
I put my hand on Ol' Henry's collar and got him to get to his feet. Then I led him off to some bushes behind the house. I was a bit nervous that Pop'd find me, since I figured (wrongly, it turned out) that he'd give me a licking if he caught me with a dog's prick up my cunt. But I knew that Pop was busy at the moment, and even though you might not think it, there's really an awful lot of routine to farm life. I could tell that he would be busy for about the next forty minutes, and I also knew that since he never had much call to go behind the house to where the bushes were, there wasn't much chance that he'd do that now.
I quickly stripped off my clothes and gave my cunt and tits a quick feel with my hands. I'd done that that morning, but getting a quick feel in on your cunt and tits is something that's always nice.
The real action was standing there with his tongue hanging out and his tail waving back and forth. I could guess that he was still pretty excited from that feel that I had given him a minute or two before. A glance in the direction of his prick sheath told me that I was on the right track in thinking that.
I knelt down and stroked the cock some more, until it was all the way out into the open. Then, I lay on my back. I guess that what I was hoping was that Ol' Henry would mount me right away. But it seems dogs are too dumb to figure out new situations like that. Ol' Henry had never fucked a woman before ('less Ma's got a secret she ain't telling), and even though he was really excited, with his long thin dick fully erect and pointing straight at my warm little cunt, he just didn't know what to do.
You can guess how pissed I was at that. I mean, here I was all hot and bothered, and this prick that I needed was too dumb to slam on into my cunt.
"Hell, though, 'guess it ain't his fault," I said to myself. After all, this was a pretty new situation that he was faced with.
Then it occurred to me what I could do to help him out a bit. I figured that the trouble was that he would only fuck someone who looked like she was a bitch. And that meant I had to try and impersonate a female dog in heat.
The "in heat" part sure didn't pose any problem. My cunt was just oozing pussy-fluid like mad, and I could hear Ol' Henry take all sorts of deep breaths through his nostrils, as he tried to get in as much of the female smell as he possibly could.
The important part was the position. That's what was wrong. So I got up onto my hands an knees and presented my cunt to him on a silver platter, if you know what I mean.
That still wasn't enough for him. He moved his face forward, and started licking my cunt, right at the moment that I was hoping that he was about to mount me.
Of course, I wasn't too disappointed in that, since the feeling of that dog-tongue on my labia was pretty darn nice. In fact, I said to myself that having Ol' Henry lick my twat was the very next thing that I'd be wanting him to do. But right at this moment, it was good hard prick that my pussy needed.
And it was good hard prick which it was going to git, too, even if I did have to take charge of the whole affair from the beginning to the end. I reached back, and took hold of Ol' Henry's paws. Then I lifted these up and placed them on my butt.
That was all the inspiration that he needed, too. Once he was in a good approximation of the dog-fucking position, he was able to move on the main business without any trouble.
I felt him move his paws up to my shoulder-blades as he closed on in for the action. Then I felt a sharp jab about two inches above my hole.
The trouble was, I guess, that girls and dogs are built differently enough for him to have a bit of trouble finding my hole. Well, that didn't matter to me all that much. The jab itself was sort of neat, in a way. I mean, it did show just how hard his prick was. And the cuntlips against which he jammed the thing were pretty sensitive, of course.
He poked again, and then one more time. I was starting to get a little impatient now, but a fourth thrust got the cock inside me. I felt the tip of it slip between my labia, and I knew that this was it.
In he went. In ... in ... in.... Really good and really hard. He was so firm, and it was such a relief for my pussy to have something hard in it after waiting this long that I thought for a moment that I was going to come right then and there.
As soon as he got all the way in, he started fucking. I mean, a guy sometimes-likes to wait a bit, sort of rest in your cunt to get you all keyed up and excited before he gets down to the real business at hand. But I guess that dogs just aren't put together that way. No sooner was he in than he started to pump.
He was pumping fast, too, much faster than a guy would do it, and much more evenly. You know how it is, when a guy fucks, Doctor. After all, I assume you've done a bit of fucking yourself in your time. A guy often starts in kind of slow, and then gradually builds up the pace until you come. But Ol' Henry started in on my cunt at a good fast clip, and he kept that up without changing it much.
That doesn't mean that it wasn't nice though. Ol' Henry's cock-action may have been different from what I was accustomed to from the boys in the area, but that didn't prevent me from enjoying the way in which each thrust of his prick really pulled my cuntlips back and forth across my clit, until the hard little button was just about yelling for some relief.
My tits were hanging heavily away from my body-Even then I was pretty built, Doctor. And that was one of the things that I liked best about the fuck. I mean, it was a really different sensation, and of course my hands did just about everything that they possibly could so as to make the sensation all the better.
For instance, I pressed my tits up against my chest and then let go of them so that they flopped down heavily. It was quite a feeling to have my tits tugging away on me like that. I also took a nipple in the fingers of each hand and pulled the breasts away in opposite directions, before letting go of them. They really bounced and jiggled when they hit.
The real action was down below my waist, though....
IN-out-in-out-in.... Regular as clockwork, but an awful lot nicer, that prick of Ol' Henry's slipped back and forth on my fast-flowing pussy juices. Every time he thrust it into me with one of those rapid motions, I felt my cunt walls shoved apart, and gave a little gasp of pleasure. And it was just about as neat to feel the big cock slide on out of me again.
He was really getting me worked up like crazy, now, really driving me wild, and even though I thought that I was going to be coming every time I felt that penis penetrate me, somehow I just kept hanging on the brink, waiting for relief, but also hoping that the fuck could go on and on forever.
"Come! Gotta come! Make me come!" I gasped in time to the thrusts of the dog's long, thin prick. I was so far gone, maybe I really hoped that he would somehow be able to understand me.
Buck-buck-buck-buck....
Needed it so bad ... just so bad---
Almost there.... I had to be coming soon ... just had to!
Then, all of a sudden, I felt my body go kind of numb for just a second, and I knew from all the fucks I'd had with guys just what that numbness meant....
Hanging on the edge ... right on the edge....
Wham! Wham! Wham! The sensation flooded back into my body all at once, and I felt my pelvis heave and buck to the force of my come! come! COME!
Cunt clutching cock, squeezing, grabbing.. . !
Cock firing spunk, snooting, gushing . . . !
And man, was it ever! I'd never have guessed that something as small as a dog's balls could hold a tenth that much jism. It seemed like Ol' Henry was going to go on shooting forever as I felt his cream spatter against my insides. And all the while, I was clutching my tits tightly against my chest, and just coming, and coming and coming....
After he'd finished shooting his wad, Ol' Henry pulled his prick right out of me in a hurry. I guess that that's something else about dogs that's just sort of instinctive. He'd had his come, and as far as he was concerned, the fun and games were over.
That was a bit of a disappointment to me, since I've always felt that one of the best parts of a fuck is after you're done, and the guy leaves his rod in you for a while, so that you can feel it slowly getting soft.
I wasn't about to complain, though. That old beagle had given me one of the best bangs that I had ever had in my life. like I said, it was completely different from the kind of fucks that you get from a guy, but that sure didn't mean that it wasn't exciting. My cuntlips were still tingling, and my clit took what seemed like forever to finally go soft. I felt totally fucked out, and for my money, that's just exactly how a female should feel after having some cock in her cunt.
The little preliminary cuntlapping that he had done while waiting to shove on into me had been so nice that I was tempted to try and get him to give me a full-scale version of it even though I had just come. But I figured that there wouldn't really be time to enjoy it, and besides, now that he had gotten his rocks off, he might well be much less disposed to enjoy it.
Well, it would be nice to have something to look forward to. And just thinking about that hard red dick made me lick my lips. I had a pretty good idea of the fun that Ol' Henry's cock and my mouth could have together if they were given a chance.
I had to go back and do my chores, but you can bet that my mind wasn't on them. All that I could think about was what a fantastic bang I had gotten from Ol' Henry.
That evening, I would have liked to take him into my bedroom, but Pop has a thing about not letting dogs in the house. He says that it spoils 'em and makes 'em lazy and good-for-nothing. So I knew that I'd have to wait until the next day before getting any more doggy fun. But that didn't mean that I couldn't have a good time with my hands. I lay back on my bed and pressed my fingers against my tingling clit and soogy labia. I actually took the cuntlips between my fingers and sort of pulled on them. I was arching my back now, and wiggling my hips around as I worked myself up to my come.
My left hand was giving my tits hell, but of course, I had to alternate from one tit to the other, since my right hand had all it could manage with keeping my cunt happy.
That didn't mean that my left hand wasn't doing a good job, though. First, I started off by really teasing and tantalizing my nipples. I always think that sex is a lot better when you have to wait for it. So instead of just starting in on the pink little nubs right away, I trailed my fingers in sort of circular motions all over the surface of my tit. Every time the fingers got close to my hard little nubs, the pink things would get even more swollen, and just cry out for attention. But then, after maybe just moving the fingers onto the edge of the pink part around the nipple (guess there must be a word for that, but I don't rightly know what it is) I would move them back out again.
Finally, when my nipples just couldn't stand it a second longer, I moved my fingers in and took hold of the things, and really squeezed and rubbed them.
Man! That felt so fine that I thought that I was going to come right then and there, but I wanted to prolong things a bit more, so I eased up on my clit a bit more, and that let me hang on without going over the top.
I was playing the same game down below the waist that I was above it. I would trail my fingers back and forth across the outer cuntlips and places like that that are relatively unsensitive. Then, I would just brush them against the cuntlips themselves, or even against my clit. The only trouble was that my clit was so super sensitized that I knew I had to be extra careful there with how I handled it, other-wise I'd be certain to be coming right away.
As I got more and more excited and worked up, feeling my and thinking about all the fun that I would be able to have in the future with that fine virile dog of mine, it got harder and harder for me to play the teasing game, though. My cunt and tits demanded action, and that was about all there was to that.
I rubbed and stroked my cuntlips some more, and then wormed my fingers on up into my hole, up into the hole where Ol' Henry had shot his wad that very afternoon.
My cunt is really quite tight, which may be one reason that I'm able to get plenty of enjoyment out of a dog's prick, even though the latter is so much thinner than a man's. And this tightness meant that my fingers really pressed my cunt's insides apart. I rubbed and pressed with my finger-joints, and the sensation was really something else.
It goes without saying that my pussy was secreting a whole lot of pussy-juice, and my fingers could really feel it sloshing and oozing all over them. I finally pulled the fingers out and stuck them in my mouth so that I could have the enjoyment of tasting my own female fluids.
Man, was I ever hot. I just had to come now, but at the same time, I didn't want the pleasure to ever come to end, either. So that when I felt that I was really on the brink of getting it off, I would sort of ease up on the pressure. I would stop fingering my nipples, and I would just drag my fingers in a kind of lackadaisical way across my outer cuntlips, which of course aren't very sensitive.
Then, when I had cooled off a bit, I would go back to the teasing torment, until it would be time for me to "rest" again.
I was just about to go out of my mind after about ten minutes of this, though, and so I decided that I finally just had to come. I took my right nipple between my fingers and started to press on it, while rubbing the fingers of my other hand frantically back and forth across my tingling labia.
Man! That was it. I paused for second on top of th roller-coaster, and then d-o-w-n-n-n I came, with my pelvis bucking and heaving, and my whole body shuddering to the force of my come!
""Ah! Ah! Ahhhhhhh!" I moaned as I felt spasm after spasm of pure female fuck-joy go rippling through my body.
Then, it was over, and I lay there on my bed, panting and gaspingfor breath and cupping my crotch in my hand. I felt so sensitive down there that I could hardly bear even the lightest pressure, but it was still nice and reassuring to have my fingers there, somehow.
It had been one of the nicest beat-offs that I could remember, largely, I think because of the way I had been able to dream about fucking with Ol' Henry while I was doing it. But I also knew that actual sex with him was a lot better, and the fun that I had had masturbating myself just made me really anxious for tomorrow to arrive so that the Beagle and I could have some good times together.
In the morning, the first thing I had to do was milk the cows, and that's something that just can't wait. If you try and keep the cows waiting, they just bellow and bellow. And I knew perfectly well that if Pop thought that I was leaving the cows in pain, I'd be in for some rough sledding. Pop's a good man, but wow, is he attached to his herd of Herefords. In fact, I sometimes wonder if he hasn't had any fun with them himself....
After the milking, there were all sorts of other things for me to do, and I knew that I wouldn't get a real break until about noon. I was going wild with having to put off my fun with Ol' Henry. I knew that if anyone looked closely they could see a damp spot on the crotch of my jeans where my pussy fluid was making them wet. And the the was my panties were rubbing and chafing against my cuntlips was downright uncomfortable.
What made it even worse was the fact that I could see Ol' Ol' Henry snoozing there in the yard like he always did. To be so near that prick of his and not be able to get anything out of it was enough to drive a cunt around the bend.
Finally, though, my noon break came, and I went straight over to Ol' Henry and led him off into the bushes. I peeled off my clothes as fast and I could and got ready for action.
The only question was just quite what action it was that I wanted to go in for. A fuck would be nice to finish up with, but there were sure some other things that I wanted to try with him first. For instance, I couldn't help wondering what that sperm of his tasted like, and the thought of getting my lips around that red prick of his really enough to make my mouth water.
The only trouble was that I figured that if I sucked him off, it might not be possible for him to give me much of a bang later on. I've known plenty of guys who could just lay one shot right on top of another, but I had no earthly way of telling whether dogs were capable of that or not.
The only other thing that left, then, for a preliminary bout, was for Ol' Henry to lick my cunt. That was hardly going to be second-best, though, since I had already had a sample of what that was like when I was trying to coax him into sticking his prick into me. More of the same would be very welcome.
I thought of getting on my hands and knees again, but I was afraid that he might try and enter me, since he would associate that position with the fuck that we had had the day before. Besides, I didn't want to always do things with him in same position. That would be bound to get a bit boring, I was sure.
So, I lay on my back, and taking hold his collar, pulled on it until he had moved up to a position that placed his head right above my crotch.
I had been planning out that that wasn't going to be necessary. Once he got a glimpse of my cunt, and once he got a whiff of the female smell emanating from it (don't forget that by this time my whole cunt was just awash with pussy-fluid), he immediately moved his head down and started in on my tender twat with that long, thin tongue of his.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! Man, did that ever feel fine! I just lay back with my legs spread and reveled in the feeling of total female passivity.
I've had guys lick my cunt, of course, and its something that I really groove on, too. But there's a whole world of difference between the kind of licking you get from a guy and the kind you get from a dog. A guy knows where the most sensitive places are, and he moved his tongue around so as to give those places the greatest possible amount of attention. At least that what a guy knows his stuff does. But with a dog, it's just a question of getting as much of that cunt-dringle of yours into his mouth as he possibly can. The thing even though, that his tongue is so tremendously long and flexible that even though he isn't trying to stimulate particular parts of your cunt, the tongue manages to end up in just about every possible nook and cranny anyway.
Slurp! Slurp! Slosh! Man, I just couldn't believe how good it felt to have that doggy-tongue on me like that. It was on my labia, on my clit, and sometimes even wormed its way up into my hole, as he sought to get every last possible drop of cunt-juice.
"Uh! Uh! Uh!" I groaned with delight as I arched my back in an effort to force my cunt closer to his face.
Not that it was possible for the face to get any closer, though. He had it nuzzling right up against my labia, and at times even tried to worm his nose up into my hole so that he could get more of that female odor that seemed to be driving him so crazy. That just made him sneeze, though, when he got some of my cunt-juice in his nostrils, and so he concentrated on licking from then on.
I could feel my body tense, feel my nerves twist themselves in knots as I readied myself for the come.
"Get me off! Bang me! make me COME!" I gasped.
The last work coincided exactly with first shudder that ran through my body as the orgasm hit me. That BRRRRRRRRRT! The come hit me all at once, and I felt like a busted watch spring that was unwinding all of a sudden!
My pelvis was bucking and slamming up into the dog's face, and he didn't mind that a bit. He'd rather feel the shocks of my cunt-lips pressing against his muzzle than give up for a second the pleasure of sniffing and licking at my cunt.
Finally, the orgasm left me, but Ol' Henry's tongue sure didn't He hadn't had a come himself, of course, and that meant that even though I was satisfied, he was still licking away on my pussy like crazy.
My pussy felt so incredibly sensitive that it was almost painful for me to get any additional pressure or stimulation. But I didn't really have the heart to break up Ol' Henry's little game, and what was more, I just felt too weak and fucked out to move. I just lay there, gasping for breath and trying to somehow get my mind together again.
I was trying to decide whether the way to take care of Ol' Henry's rampant cock would be to let it inside my vagina or inside my mouth. On one hand, the last fuck that I had had with the dog had been so fine that I was very tempted to simply try and duplicate it. But then, I had never had a dog's prick in my mouth before, and I wanted to try out as many new things with Ol 'Henry as I possibly could.
Before I could make up my mind, something else intervened: Pop!
He came out from behind the bushes, stark naked and with his cock looking like an iron bar. The look on his face told me everything that I had to know about what his intentions were.
"Pop!" I gasped in surprise.
"Hi there, Cindy Mae. See you've been having a good time. I suppose you won't mind sharing it with your pappy."
"How did you find me? You're normally busy in the barn this time of day."
"I may be uneducated, daughter, but I ain't stupid, that's for sure. When I see a healthy young girl like you lead a dog off behind the house, after looking all day at the watch that I gave her I know a thing or two about what's going to happen."
There wasn't any anger in his voice at all. He pulled Ol' Henry's face away from my cunt, but he didn't do it in a vicious sort of way.
"Sorry, dawg, but Pappy's got some rights too, y'know."
And without more ado, he got down on top of me and stuck his prick into his own daughter's twat!
I couldn't have resisted much if I'd wanted to, but to tell the truth, I didn't much want to, either. I mean, Daddy's a pretty fine figure of a man, and I could guess from the glimpse that I'd gotten of his prick that it was going to be every bit as hard as a girl could possibly want. I'd always wondered what it would be like to fuck with him, and here was my chance to find out.
In he went, nice and firm. Fast, but not so fast that he hurt me. He rested for a second with his cock there inside me, and then started to sort of rotate his hips slightly, so that he was actually twisting the prick inside me. It was really something else, as far as sensations are concerned.
Then, back out he pulled it. Slowly at first, then faster, until only the big fleshy knob was inside. I was already so damn worked up by the idea of having that prick in me, of being fucked by my own pop, that I was really afraid that he might pull his cock all the way out of me, and leave me there totally frustrated.
He didn't plan on doing any such thing, though, and slid his cock back in again.
He was going quite slowly at first, and it was obvious that he planned to gradually build up the tempo until we finally came together. That was in complete contrast to the fast-from-the-start handling that I had gotten from Ol' Henry the day before.
In ... out ... in ... out.... Nice, long strokes, each one pulling my labia back and forth across the hard little clit until I thought that it was literally going to burst with excitement.
And best of all, he was really giving my tits a workout. One of the troubles with having a dog for a sexual partner is that he isn't interested in fondling your boobs, and doesn't have any hands to do it with anyway. That's a particular problem for a girl like me who has supersensitive tits and really-likes them to get plenty of action.
Well, that was just exactly what dad was giving to them! He was really kneading and squeezing them, just like a baker working some dough. He was being sort of rough, but not really causing me any pain. Just rough enough to let me know that he was in charge.
Of course, something else was indicating that to me too, namely the rampant, furious prick that was sliding back and forth like mad inside my twat, and really driving me straight up the wall.
Buck! Buck! Buck! The feel of things had really changed now. The long, slow strokes were replaced by much harder, more energetic one. He was really pistoning me, really driving me for a come!
"Fuck me Pop! Fuck me! I want Pop's prick! Pop's prick! Pop's prick!"
He was giving it to me, too, making my cunt so hot and horny that I had almost forgotten that it had been getting ready for some dog cock when he came along.
Squish! Squoosh! Squish! I could hear the cunt-juices slurp around as he bucked his rod inside me....
I was just about there ... just about ... just about....
Pop really knew how to keep a cunt hanging fire. Every time he slammed that rod of his home into me, I was sure that he was going to bring me off, but something about the speed he did it, or the angle he gave the thrust, always kept me just a tiny, tiny bit short of the actual amount of stimulation that I needed to come.
In! Out! In! Out!
"Can't stand it, Pop! Just can't! Just can't!" I almost sobbed, and Pop could tell from the tone of my voice that I meant what I was saying. So he gave a couple more strokes that really did bring me right to the brink of my come, and then he pulled back for the final one that he knew would be enough to bring me off.
Back he went. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly.
Then he paused for just one agonizing second more before starting to slide back into me. In ... in ... in....
Man, was he taking his time, and was it ever driving me out of my mind!
One third in ... one half ... three fourths....
I was going over the top ... going ... going---
He rammed all the way home, and as I felt the tip of his prick press against the entrance to my womb, the come hit me, and my pelvis started bucking and heaving wildly, while my cunt-walls clutched frantically and the firm rod.
The feel of my body exploding all around him was more than he needed to get his rocks off, and I felt the first gob of man cream splatter up against the back of my womb, followed by another, and another, and another!
"Coming!" I gasped. "Coming so fucking, freaking hard!"
And man oh man, don't think that I wasn't. My whole body was shaking like a tree in a thunderstorm as the shudders of come-pleasure tore through it.
Gush! Gush! Gush! It didn't seem like Pop's prick was ever going to stop shooting, either. I had already pumped more jism into me than I could ever remember having gotten from another male, and there was still more to come.
He pressed his hands tightly against my tits, too, and I just had the most total come-experience imaginable! Wham! Wham! Wham!
Finally, we were done, and lay there gasping and panting for breath. His cock had finished shooting its load, but that didn't mean that it was in any all-fired hurry to get soft. I guess that with my pop, hard is sort of the natural state for his prick, almost.
He pulled out at last, and said, "so how was that, daughter?"
"Fantastic! You're not mad at me for letting Ol' Henry lick my cunt?"
"I ain't selfish, daughter. 'Long as I can get some of the action myself, I don't mind you putting out for others. Only fair that a nice sexy chick like you should want to spread the fun around a bit. Matter of fact, I think that maybe you'd better do something right now to take care of that poor dog's prick."
I glanced in the direction of Ol' Henry and saw that his cock was every last inch of the way out of its sheath. He had gotten all turned on by licking my cunt, and I guess that watching me fuck with Pop hadn't exactly cooled him down any.
Looking at that cock, I couldn't help agreeing with Pop that I really did have sort of an obligation to take some of the pressure off of the dog's prick. After all, he'd already given me a good time, and it was only fair that I should try and do the same thing for him.
My cunt felt far too fucked out for me to want his prick up it, though, even though the prick did look pretty nice. It was a choice between feeling him off or sucking his prick. I decided to do the latter, since I figured that it would give Pop more of a thrill to watch. And the look in his eyes indicated pretty clearly just how exciting he found the idea of watching. I saw the tip of his tongue creep out between his lips and slide along them.
I got down on the grass on one side of Ol' Henry, and Dad got down on the other, so that we were facing each other under the dog's belly. That way, Pop was assured of getting as good a view of me sucking the dog's prick as was possible.
Well, I was determined to show my pappy that his little girl knew something about cock-sucking. Though, now that he had had sex with me once, I figured that it was pretty-likely that he would want a more direct demonstration eventually!
It's amazing how fast I can get worked up again. Here I'd already had two nice comes, and even though I had thought at first that servicing the dog would really be a bit much, just looking at that rod was enough to get my clit all tingly again.
I moved my tongue up to the penis and gave a long, slow lick up the whole length of it. Ol' Henry gave a bark of excitement, but continued to stand perfectly still. I guess that he was enjoying all of this so much that he didn't want to do anything that might make the tongue-action stop.
I licked away at the root of the prick, and at the hanging balls, before moving my tongue up to the end of the cock, which I really kind of slobbered over as I worked my tongue tip against the little piss-and-come slit.
I had originally just planned to suck his prick without doing anything to my weary cunt. But I was so worked up that my hand got to my cunt before I even noticed what I was doing. I wormed my fingers into my slit and started pressing them against the tender cunt-walls while I used my thumb to poke and prod at my labia.
This business of licking the dog's prick was really nice but as I got more and more excited, I knew that what I wanted was to suck.
I slipped my lips over the end of the hard shaft, and then moved them down to the prick-root. That meant that the end was poked up so far into my mouth that it was almost making me gag, but that's the sort of gagging that I don't mind.
I worked away at the root, and while I did so, my other hand, the one that wasn't busy with my cunt, took his ballsack arid started fondling and kneading it.
Ol' Henry really sounded like a locomotive now. His breath was coming in heavy pants as he got more and more excited with every little nibble of my lips. I've always been amazed how a prick that seems like it's just incredibly hard can go on to get even harder and more rigid when a bit of stimulation is applied to it.
I glanced in the direction of Daddy, and saw that his eyes were really glistening. I moved my head slightly so that I could get a good view of his crotch. As I suspected, he had his hand on his prick and was working away on it to beat the band That cock had just shot off its wad only a few minutes before, but from the look of it, it was as hard as it has ever been.
I was moving my lips up and down along the length of the penis now, and even though my tongue was inside my mouth, I was able to use it to offer some additional stimulation to the dog's penis.
Then, I felt the thing give a sort of extra little stiffening, and I knew that it was about to come. I wanted to come at the same time, and so I pressed my fingers really hard against my clit.
Bingo! That was all that was needed to bring myself off, and I felt my pelvis started to heave and tremble to the force of my come at the exact same moment that the first gob of dog-spunk shot up against the root of my mouth.
Splat! Splat! Splat! It was amazing just how full his balls were. It seemed like there was cock-juice everywhere. Trickling down my throat, between my cheeks and teeth, under my tongue, and still the hard, thin dog-rod was shooting away!
When he finally stopped, and my own come subsided, I kept on sucking a while longer. The feeling of that big prick inside my mouth was just far too exciting for me to want to let go of it for a while.
At last, I slipped my lips off of the cock, being very, very careful as I did so not to spill any of the precious male juice. I got up and walked over to my father. He was lying on the ground, his hand still on his cock, and a greyish pool on his belly. He had come while watching Ol' Henry and me go at it, of course.
I smiled at him, then opened my mouth slightly, so that he could see the little lake of prick-juice there inside it. After that, I sloshed the stuff around a bit more with my tongue, before swallowing it.
Just the idea that I was swallowing sperm (and dog-sperm at that) was exciting enough to cause my clit to tingle. There could be no question about it. The fun and games that afternoon had really been fine.
"C'mon, daughter," Pop said, "we've got to get us some more chores done."
From then on, my fucking with Ol' Henry has really been a pretty regular sort of thing, and Dad loves to come watch. In fact, he's said that watching is something that he enjoys almost as much as doing.
Sometimes, we try something a bit special, like a fuck where all three of us participate at the same time. The first one of those, as I remember, consisted Of Ol' Henry banging my cunt while I sucked on Pop's prick.
The way we did it, was for me to get down on my hands and knees, while Pop lay down on his back, so that my face was right over his cock.
Ol' Henry was right behind me, and as soon as he saw that cunt of mine presented to him, he knew just exactly what it was that I wanted him to do. In fact, he had that prick of his inside me even before I had a chance to get my mouth around dad's tool.
It was really neat to have something going on at each end, and it was interesting for me to be able to compare the feel of a dog's prick in my mouth (which was what I had had the day before) with a man's, and a dog's prick in the cunt with a man's.
Pop has a fine rod, like I've told you, and it really felt fine to have it crammed into my mouth. And I do mean crammed, too. I know from experience with guys just how sensitive their cock is down by the root, but Dad's penis was so long that I could hardly get my lips all the way down there when the rest of the thing was inserted into my mouth.
So, to get around that problem, I would use my fingers on the lower part of the cock while continuing to give my lip-attention to the knob and the place where the knob and the shaft join, which I guess is just about the most sensitive spot on a guy's body.
And all the while, I could feel that dog-dick sliding back and forth inside my body. Back-and-forth. Back-and-forth. Always that same even motion. And don't think that my cunt wasn't enjoying it, too. I could feel just how incredibly wet my pussy was as the dog-cock worked away in it.
My lips were about as energetic with Pop's meat as Ol' Henry was with getting my twat all worked up. I was sucking away to beat the band, and fondling and and caressing his balls and prickroot, too. From his hard, heavy breathing, I could tell that he was about to come. And the incredible stiffness of his cock, and the way in which his balls were pulled up so tight against the base of his penis, told me the same story.
I wanted to have all of us come at the same moment, and since I was the only active partner here except for Ol' Henry, who was just going by instinct, I figured that the responsibility for timing it all belonged to me.
The way I planned on doing it was to get Pop worked up as fast as I possibly could. Then, when I sensed that he was right on the edge of his come, I would put him on "hold" so to speak, easing up on the pressure just enough to keep him from coming, but not enough to let him cool down any. And, when I felt that Ol' Henry or myself was about to come (and it didn't matter which, since the feeling of my cunt going would set off his prick, and vice versa), I would give Pop that extra little bit of attention that would be all he needed in order to go over the top.
I could tell that Pop was at that critical point right now, so I eased up on his cock some, while continuing to get those luscious thrusts in the cunt from my dog.
Then, I felt my body tense up for the come, and I started sucking away like crazy again on the prick I had in my mouth.
Suddenly, I was coming, and the feeling of my twat clutching furiously at his rod was enough to get Ol' Henry off too. And a split second later, Dad was coming, his rod gushing away like an oil well into my mouth!
Come! Come! Come! Come! Prick! Cunt! Prick! Cunt! Coming, and coming and COMING!
Finally my Pop's prick stopped shooting, and
I felt Ol' Henry slip his cock out of my cunt. Having gotten it from both ends, I felt very, very fucked, and that means that I felt very, very happy, too.
Anyway, that's about how things have been going on ever since, Doc, and I can't imagine a girl having a better arrangement.
That last phrase of Cindy Mae's sums up the most important piece of information conveyed by her account. The total lack of any kind of guilt feelings which many city-dwellers feel about bestiality and incest. One of the reasons that I had gone to a rural area to study sexual practices was because I was curious as to just how different sexual attitudes might be there from those which I encounter in my normal practice in the city. It has been said that one of the troubles with Freud is that his theories are all based on a very narrow group of people: the Viennese middle class. Even though I have done various kinds of charity work, I was very eager to collect information on people different from thoe I normally work with.
And this lack of guilt struck me as one of the most different aspects of rural sex compared to that engaged in by middle-class city dwellers. Most of the women I have talked with who have engaged in bestiality have at least residual feelings of guilt, even if by and large they have dealt successfully with the fact of their unorthodox sexual inclinations. But for Cindy Mae, sex was purely a matter of physical pleasure. If a dog's penis, or her father's penis, could provide her with a good orgasm, that was all that she was interested in.
The casual attitude towards incest is one that was only to be expected. There's a saying that in the hill country, a virgin is a girl over five who can run faster than her pappy. But it was very interesting to seem the same attitude applied to animal sex.
Of course, it would be a gross error to regard rural people as some sort of children of nature who don't share any common traits with city people. For instance, Cindy Mae's father's voyeurism, the fact that, as she put it, he would almost rather watch sex than have it, is probably not at all different in its manifestations and causes from the cases of voyeurism which Freud encountered in the middle class Viennese whom he studied.
I had interviewed Cindy Mae purely for the sake of my projected book. I did not have time to engage in any therapeutic relationship with her, and besides, there was no reason to believe that any kind of therapy was either needed or wanted. Cindy Mae's reasons for having sex with her dog involved ordinary physical desire and perhaps also a natural-enough desire by someone whose life was rather restricted in scope to engage in something new and exotic. As she put it, a girl couldn't have a better arrangement, and though the arrangement in question might eventually lead to trouble with her mother, that was a purely practical question and one quite outside the purview of abnormal psychology.
The reader may be interested to know that I found three other example of bestiality in the course of my rural investigations. I have not presented them here, since I wished to give as varied a set as cases in this book as possible. It is interesting to note in passing, however, that although in the other three cases, one of the females was motivated by essentially the same normal and non-pathological feelings that drove Cindy Mae into bestiality, while one of the other women was definitely very insecure and neurotic, and the third something of a borderline case, all three of them showed the same essential unconcern as Cindy Mae for having violated what most city people regard as a very important taboo: that which says that women should not allow dogs' penises into their vaginas.
CASE HISTORY TWO
"I dunno, Doctor," the pretty blonde sixteen-year-old said to me, "the thing is that I've started to feel really creepy about myself, and about this whole bag that I've gotten into. At the same time, the thing that I have on my mind isn't something that it's very easy to talk about.
The blonde in question was named Suzanne T. and she was a student at a high school where I was filling in for a friend of mine who worked there as the school psychologist and who happened to be sick at the time.
"Well, Suzanne," I said to the girl, "I can certainly understand her reluctance, since I don't think that I've ever had a patient who wasn't hesitant at first. After all, it isn't easy to open up the most intimate details of your life to someone who's a complete stranger, even if you know that he is a professional and only wants to help you."
"And unless I open up and spill the whole works there isn't much help that you can give me, right?"
"I'm afraid so. But one thing that you should bear in mind is that a lot of the things that people are most uptight and ashamed about are much more common than they think. Someone may be engaging in some form of unusual sexual behavior, for instance, and think that he or she must be the only person in the whole wide world who would do such a thing. But in fact, I have scores and scores of people coming to my office all the time with sexual problems which seem very offbeat to them but which are really pretty old hat to someone like myself who has spent his whole career studying human behavior."
The reason that I had suggested that what was on Suzanne's mind might be sexual was that I have found that sexual matters are (as a result of cultural conditioning, of course) the ones that most people are particularly uptight about. So that if someone is very hesitant to tell me about their problem, it's a reasonably safe bet that some violated sexual taboo enters into the picture at some point or the other.
In fact, I had hit the nail pretty well on the head in this particular case. As soon as I started to tell Suzanne about how seemingly exotic forms of sexual behavior occur more often than people think, I saw her give a very noticeable little sigh of relief.
"Take lesbianism, for instance," I said, trying to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak, "although many women who have sexual feelings for members of their own sex are often very ashamed of the fact, the truth of the matter is that according to people like Kinsey, such feelings and desires are much, much more widespread than most people imagine."
That was really a shot in the dark, since there was nothing about Suzanne that could have made me suspect that lesbianism was the thing that she had on her mind. But although I went wide of the mark as far as my specific suggestion was concerned, it did in fact cause her to open up and give me something more of an idea of what it was that was bothering her.
"It isn't anything like that, Doctor," she murmured. "It's a lot weirder than that, I'm afraid. That's just exactly what has me so terribly bugged. I fuck with animals."
"With animals?" I asked, showning no note of surprise at all in my voice. "What kind of animals?"
"Dogs and cats. Dogs mostly. It was my boyfriend Bart who got me into it, but now that he has, I have to admit that it's something that I can't possibly imagine giving up."
"Well," I said, "you certainly aren't the first young woman I've ever met who enjoyed sex with animals, and I doubt very much that you'll be the last one, either. But maybe you'd like to tell me some more about all of this. You say your boyfriend approves of all this?" "Yes."
"Does he like to watch?" "Yes."
"But you don't like the setup so much any more?"
"like I said, Doctor, I've started to feel really sort of creepy about myself, if you know what I mean. Really sort of guilty and unclean. I didn't feel that way at first, but it's something that's really been gaining on me recently."
"And you'd like me to see if I could do something to make you want less to have sex with animals?"
"That's about it."
"Well," I said, "in my experience, bestiality is often more a symptom of underlying emotional pressures than a primary ailment. When the underlying psychological tension in resolved-as it often can be-then the desire for animal sex usually diminishes or even vanishes completely."
"She gave another sigh of relief.
"So," I said, "knowing that, maybe you're a little bit more willing to fill me in on what's been going on in your life."
"I guess so," she said, and then she began her story....
I've known Bart for about a year now. The reason I'm starting with him is because without him, I'd have never gotten involved with animals. I'm not saying that so as to put most of the blame on him, or anything like that. It's just that that's the way things are.
I'm in the tenth grade, and Bart's a senior. That means that when we first met, I was a ninth grader and Bart was a junior.
Wow, you'd better believe that when an eleventh-grade boy shows some interest to her, a girl who's a freshman really stands up and pays attention. Her clit really stands up and pays attention too. I guess that boys mature more slowly than girls do, or something like that, because let me tell you, the average ninth-grade girl regards boys in her age group as real babies. I mean, that's the way they are. They're still just interested in sports and things like that, and the only things they do to girls is ride by them on bicycles and whistle at them or do dumb stuff like that so as to show what super grown-up studs they are. It's a real drag. As for girls-well, I think I was a bit interested in males even before I got my period, and after that, wow! But like I said, all the males I got a chance to hang around with were really infantile.
Then, Bart started paying attention to me, and the difference between him and the guys in my class was pretty much the same as the difference between night and day. He was suave, relaxed, and he knew what he wanted.
What he wanted was my pussy, and there was just no two ways about it.
It was of sort of two minds about that. On one hand, I really felt pretty horny much of the time, and just the thought of having some hard prick up my hole made it drool and dribble all over my panties. But I guess I found the idea of sex sort of frightening, too.
Bart was enough in tune with these feelings of mine to be able to compensate for them, and so all along he knew just how to calm me down and get me in the mood to go along with him.
The first time we fucked, he had taken me to the movies. His parents were out of town, and he suggested that I come over to his place for a drink of his father's liquor. I had a pretty good idea of what Bart had in mind, but I didn't want to think of myself as the kind of girl who just chickened out when the going got half-way serious.
So, I went over to his place, and though it's true that he went through the motions of offering me a drink, the truth of the matter was that there wasn't much drinking and was plenty of fondling. We were sitting on the sofa, and I'd hardly had a chance to sip my bourbon when I felt his hand on my right tit.
"Mmmmmm, nice," I whispered. I wasn't exactly sure if that was what I should be whispering, but at least I was telling the truth. It felt nice to have his hand on my tit like that.
"If you like it that way, maybe you'll think this is even better," he said with a smile as he slipped his hand under my sweater to cup my breast with. That meant that all there was between his hand and my titflesh was my rather thin bra, and the knowledge of that, as well as the pressure he was exerting with those masterful fingers of his, was enough to cause my nipples to swell out like crazy.
"Getting turned on, aren't you, kid," he said. It was pretty obvious that he could feel the swelling of my nipples through the bra-fabric.
"You'd better believe that I'm getting turned on," I said.
Saying that was pretty much like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Bart reached his other hand under my skirt and sort of cupped my crotch with it, pressing his fingers hard against my panties. The panties were already pretty wet, but they were getting wetter all the time as I felt the pressure of Bart's fingers.
He wasn't contented with feeling me up through my underclothes, though,' and he pulled my panties away from my soggy crotch. The cool air that caressed them was really pretty nice, but it didn't make me less excited.
With my panties out of the way, he was able to really get his fingers on my cunt, and he took every opportunity possible. He pressed them against my clit (that nearly made me come right then and there) my cuntlips, and my maidenhead.
"Still intact aren't you?" he said. "What do you mean?"
He explained by giving me a quick poke on the hymen. Not enough to break it-that was an honor that he was saving for his prick, I guess-but enough to make me very conscious of the membrane that he was referring to.
"Don't worry, kid," he said, "with me doing it, you won't feel a thing. Not for long, anyway."
He seemed to really take it for granted that we were going to fuck, and seeing as I had allowed him to pull my panties down and place his fingers on my cunt, I guess that that wasn't really such an unreasonable thing to think. On one hand, I sort of resented his taking my consent for granted like that, but on the other hand, that was just the kind of aggressive, "take-charge" attitude that I found so lacking in boys of my own age.
He pressed me back against the couch, then opened his fly and let his cock press out against the white fabric of his underpants. I really drooled at the sight of the thing making such a hard bulge.
"Wait until you see it," he said, noticing the look on my face. Then he pulled the underpants down, and the cock was able to flop out into freedom, expanding quickly to its full length.
Except for a really dumb sex education movie that they showed at school, I'd never seen a prick before, but one thing I knew right away on getting my first glance in at Bart's: being fucked was something that I was going to really enjoy. My cunt gave a little spasmodic contraction. It sensed that that hard thing was just exactly what it wanted and needed.
Bart had already gotten my sweater and bra off, and he was now working away like crazy on my tits, kneading and molding them, pulling on the nipples, and doing all those other things that a girl does to herself when she doesn't have a guy around.
What he was really interested in was that cunt of mine, though. He got on top of me, and positioned himself so that the tip of his prick was resting inside my hole. I gave a little shudder of anticipation, a shudder which, I guess, was composed of pretty much, equal parts of desire and fear.
He pressed the cock against my maidenhead, and I felt even more nervous. What if it really hurt? I mean, the thing felt sort of solid as he poked his prick-tip against it.
He didn't give me too much time to worry about the fact, though. I guess that Bart belongs to the category of people who rip bandages off fast, or just leap into cold swimming pools so as to get the initial shock over with. One moment, I felt his cock pressing against my hymen, and the next moment, he was IN!
Slam! He just ripped on into me, piercing me, impaling me, making me bleed, and his cock glided on in over the fast-flowing pussy juices and the blood, until he had me totally filled with the miracle of his rampant hardness.
He rested for just a second, so as to give my poor suffering cunt at least a bit of time to get adjusted. Then, he pulled back and started to pump.
At first, my cunt felt so incredibly tender and sensitive that I couldn't notice anything much else besides the pain. But as he worked his tool back and forth inside me, the pain began to be replaced by a really wonderful feeling of excitement, until I had forgotten all discomfort, and the only thing that I could think of was how wonderful it felt to have that hard rod slipping back and forth inside my cunt.
"like it, baby?" he asked, as he worked me with his rod.
I was getting more and more turned on by this wonderful new sensation. It was all so amazing, having a man's hard tool in me like that, that I really hardly knew what to think. Of course, I didn't have to think, really, just feel. His prick did all the talking for him.
All the while, his hands were really giving my tits quite a work-out, squeezing, kneading and caressing them, while his prick continued to drive me straight up the wall with come-need.
"Uh! Uh! Uh!" I grunted in excitement as I felt the muscles in my back and thighs tense. I was getting ready to come, I knew that from the many times that I'd beaten off, but this time was going to be different. I was going to come with a guy coming inside me!
"A woman! I'm going to be a woman! He's making me a woman!" I kept repeating to myself as I felt the tension in my cunt increase with every thrust of that prick of his.
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck!
I'd beaten off plenty of times before, but man, oh man, masturbation sure was never anything like this.
"So fine! So fucking find" I gasped.
"Don't worry, baby," he said, "I'll have you off in a minute. Just one little minute."
He was true to his word, too. It was hardly more than a minute before I felt him give the last few strokes that I knew would build me up to my come. Only four or five would be necessary, I knew that from the way my cunt felt.
One! Almost....
Two!
Three! "Just can't stand it Just can't!" Four! "Please...."
Five! And that was it! I felt my whole body sort of shudder off into my orgasm, till every nerve I had, every muscle, was working overtime to express the frantic female come-joy that was sweeping through me.
"AHHHHHHHH!" I sighed as I felt my cunt unwind itself in slam after slam. And as it clutched at his rod, the latter unloaded into me with gush after gush after gush....
Then, we were done, and lying there panting and gasping together.
"Well, baby," he asked me, "did fucking live up to your expectations?"
"Mmmmmm, what do you think?"
"I think you had a pretty good come."
"You'd better believe it."
There was a moment's silence, and then I said, "hell, Bart. I bet you're one of the best fuckers around."
"I do my best," he said, "the thing is that I like to liven things up a bit sometimes with stuff that's somewhat unusual. Stuff that not everyone goes for."
"Meaning?" I asked, my curiosity genuinely aroused.
"I'll tell you about it later, after we've gotten to know each other better."
"You don't want to tell me now?"
"I don't think you'd understand now," he said. "But I promise I'll tell you later."
Talk about a teasing remark. I mean, in the weeks that followed, I couldn't get myself to stop wondering what it was that Bart was talking about. And every time I asked him, he'd always say that it wasn't time yet for me to know. That he had to get to know me better.
As the weeks went by, with my fucking Bart regularly, I got to be more and more fond of him. Finally, after we had finished fucking, and were just lying on the sofa together, I asked him what his big secret was.
"After all," I said, "I think that there's enough feeling between us for you to feel that your secret was safe with me." And it was true that the reason I kept prying it out of him was not just curiosity, but the fact that I felt that if he really loved me, he should be willing to tell me whatever it was.
"Okay," he said, "I guess that you're right. I tell you what. Instead of telling you what it is, I'll show you. Get down on all fours.
I did what he told me, feeling all the more curious. After all, he'd fucked me that way several times before in the past, so that couldn't be his big, dark secret.
Then, I heard footsteps as if he were leaving the room. That made it all the odder, but I didn't turn my head to try and see what he was doing. If he was going to all this trouble to surprise me, I wasn't going to spoil things.
I heard his footsteps return, and then I felt something very cold and wet against my cunt. For a moment, I couldn't imagine what it could possibly be. Then a sniffing sound told me.
I glanced around and saw a great big boxer standing behind me, with a sleek brown coat and pointy ears.
"Suzie, meet K.O., " I heard Bart say with a touch of nervousness in his voice.
Before I had much of a chance to react, though, the big dog had already started licking my cunt, and that really changed the picture. Otherwise, I might have felt outraged (or pretended to myself that that was what I felt) at what my boyfriend had done. But the feeling of that soft, wet tongue on my cunt took care of my objections pretty fast.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! The tongue was sliding into just about every little female nook and cranny that I had, and you'd better believe that I was really grooving on it. Every time that tongue slid across my tingling labia or my pebble-hard little clit, I thought that I was going to be coming right then and there.
"How do you like it, baby?" I heard Bart ask.
I was too hot to even be able to speak any more. All I could do was give a long drawn-out sigh of approval which indicated about as clearly as anything else could just how turned on I was by the weird experience of having a big dog lick my twat.
I could feel K.O.'s breath on my cunt, of course, since his muzzle was right up close to me. But I could also feel Bart's breath on my left buttock. It was obvious that he had his face right up there next to the dog's so that he could witness every detail. He was able to see just how the slender, flexible tongue was sliding a back and forth over my labia and clit, how i even curled up into my hole on occasion, and how the big dog kept slurping and slurping am slurping as he sought to lick up every drop o; pussy fluid that he could possibly get.
"Uh! Uh! Uh!" I grunted. That dog was driving me straight out of my mind. I wanted to come, needed to come, just fucking well hod to come, but still the animal kept me there right on the edge of the orgasm that I needed so badly. Not that dogs understand technique in that sense, but that's just the way that things worked out.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!
I could hear the dog panting away in excitement, but on top of that I could hear some other heavy breathing and panting. I could guess that Bart was just fantastically turned on by the little spectacle that he had arranged, and that he was probably beating himself off.
I pressed my tits up against my chest with my right hand, while using my left hand to support my trembling body. I felt like a violin string that's being drawn too tight I had to snap some time, and I could hardly wait!
That, a final long slurp over my clit was enough to set me off. I hung fire for just a second longer, and then a whole tidal wave a female come-frenzy roared through me.
"Coming! Coming! I'm coming!" I gasped as I felt my pelvis buck and heave and shudder to the force of my wild fuck-spasms!
And still the dog licked and slurped, pulling his tongue back and forth, back and forth across my aching clit and my stinging labia!
"Whewwwwwww!" with a long sigh, I felt the final surges of my orgasm drain out of me, and I was surprised to find that I was still alive, though a bit dazed. It had been quite a ride.
I staggered to my feet and looked at Bart. He was standing there with his prick gradually going soft, and long strands of spunk trailing from the tip of it. He had obviously beaten himself off while watching me get tongued by the dog, and the smile on his face indicated just how much he had enjoyed it, too.
"So that's my secret," he said. "It really turns me on to see a chick make it with a dog."
"Well, don't think I'm not glad you decided to let me in on it finally," I said. I could hardly remember when my cunt had gotten such a first-class bang.
Bart drove me home, and I went up to my room to think about the weird experience that I had just been through.
When I had told Bart that I was glad that he had decided to share his secret with me by having his dog tongue me off, that was true in a way. But even as I said it, I began to feel a bit uneasy about what it was that I had just done. Once I was no longer at the peak of my passion, I was able to get a bit more perspective, and there was no way to get around the fact that having sex with a dog really seemed kind of sick.
On the other hand, I knew that Bart really dug it, and it seemed that if I was going to consider myself a good girlfriend, I should be willing to humor him in some of his quirks. After all, it isn't every tenth grader (I was in the tenth grade by now) who has a senior for a boyfriend. When other girls saw me out walking with Bart, they looked pretty envious.
I suspected that if I told Bart that I didn't want to have anything more to do with his dog, he would probably dump me in favor of some other chick. And that would leave me high and dry, with no prick to take care of my cunt, and no one to walk me home from school or take me out for pizza.
So, I decided to stick it out, and hope that maybe Bart would get to be so fond of me that he no longer found it necessary to get turned on by the sight of a dog pistoning my cunt.
The next date I had, we wound up at his place as usual. For some reason or the other, his parents are often not home, and that means that he has a chance to do anything he wants. I guess his parents figure that since he's a senior, they can trust him.
We started out with a couple of drinks (insofar as Bart's dad's liquor is concerned, they can't trust him, but they don't know that) and then Bart started to caress my tits and to feel up my cunt through my panties so as to get me all hot and bothered.
"You want it, baby?" he asked with a tone of voice which indicated that he knew perfectly well that after a bit of preliminary action from him, any girl would have to be out of her mind to not want a fuck.
"Uh huh," I said softly.
"Shall I get K.O.? "
I had forgotten all about the dog.
"Can't we skip the dog for tonight?"
"You don't want the dog?"
"It's just that I'd rather do it with you."
"You'll be getting plenty of action from me, don't worry about that," I heard him say. There was an edge of annoyance in his voice that indicated that he wasn't really all that prepared to accept this sort of uncooperativeness from me.
Then, after a pause, he said, "okay, we'll skip the dog tonight as long as you'll promise to do something else that I like."
"Okay," I said. I figured that he was talking about some unusual position that would involve the two of us.
To my surprise, he got up and walked out of the room. It wasn't long before he returned, carrying a great big tomcat.
"Suzie, I'd like you to meet Leo."
The big cat just stared at me lazily. It was one of those cats that looks like it was born to do nothing else but sleep in front of a fireplace all day.
"Bart...." I said reproachfully. It somehow didn't seem fair to me for him to promise not to insist on the dog, and then go and bring in a cat.
"I thought you said that you wanted to share in my private interest," he said, and everything in his tone of voice indicated that if I wasn't willing to go along with him, things were going to be all washed up between him and me.
"Okay, Bart, okay," I said. I'm really crazy about the guy, and I certainly didn't want to lose him. So I guess that I just didn't have any other choice but to play along with him.
What I couldn't figure out was what a cat could do, exactly. I mean, it's so small that I wouldn't think that it's tongue would be able to provide very much stimulation. Well, I was sure wrong on that one!
Bart asked me to lie on my back with my legs spread. He looked down at me with a smile of satisfaction on his face, and then got down on the floor next to me. He placed the cat between my legs, with its little triangular face right up next to my cunt.
"Pussy, meet pussy," Bart said.
Either cats are as turned on by a girl's smell as dogs are, or Leo had had a lot of experience and acquired a taste for cuntlapping, because he didn't hesitate for an instant. Instead, he moved his face up close and started lapping away like he was lapping up a bowl of cream.
The very first lick of his tongue told me just how fantastically much I was going to enjoy this. It's true that his tongue was very small compared to a dog's or a guy's, but it had that raspy, sandpaper quality. So every time it moved across my labia, I got about three times the amount of stimulation that a normal smooth type of tongue could have given me.
"See, baby," I heard Bart say, "if you'll just trust your Bart, all sorts of nice things are going to happen to you."
He could tell from the look of excitement on my face just how turned on I was by the action of the cat's tongue.
I expected he would beat off while watching the cat lick me, but I was wrong. This time, he put his hands on my tits and started to rub and caress them. He has a wonderful way with tits, and I could feel mine swell up with excitement, and feel the nipples turn from soft little things to hard nubs that just ached for more stimulation.
From time to time, he would put his head near my cunt so that he could watch the cat lick me there, but that wasn't absolutely indispensable for his enjoyment. Just knowing that I was being tongued-off by the animal was enough to turn him on, so part of the time he would either kiss me (French style, of course!) or lick my tits.
If his hands were great on my breasts, you'd better believe that his tongue was something else again! He left little trails of moisture all over the surface of them as he circled in closer and closer to the aching nipples. He would give these a quick little flick, and then move his tongue on out again. I was half nuts from frustration and desire, but somehow I was loving every minute of it.
I don't think that I've ever felt so totally fucked. I mean, here I was being licked on the cunt, kissed, and getting my tits felt up; all at the same time!
The best part had to be the licking though. The cat had a really wild sort of rhythm to his strokes as he licked.
Flick! Flick! Flick! His tongue danced back and forth across my labia, making my hips tremble and shudder with excitement.
Then, all of a sudden, I was coming. It was like a cloudburst. No real warning. I was very excited, knew that my come couldn't be far off, but I hadn't received any warning in the form of a final tensing of my muscles or final jangling of my nerves. One minute, I was writhing around in pre-come excitement and tension, and the next, everything was cutting loose all at once in a series of really powerful spasms that really ripped through me.
Wham! Wham! Wham! My hips bucked and heaved against the cat's face, but I could feel him keep his nose pressed hard against my tender woman skin. He was sort of riding with the punch, so to speak, and clearly was really enjoying the sensations caused by my cunt flesh shuddering against him.
Bart was still fondling my tits and kissing me, and as he felt me go off, he gave my tits and specially loving squeeze.
Man oh man, was I ever blasting!
Coming, coming, coming! One frantic cunt, blasting, heaving, shuddering, going irikl! One final heave, and I was done. Bart took his mouth from mine and smiled down at me.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he said.
It was just like the time before. I was still kind of on a plateau from the excitement of the fuck, but I could feel the tension ebbing out of me, and I knew that as it did, I would start to feel guilty.
"It was great, Bart," I said. I knew that was the answer that I was expected to give, and from the point of view of pure physical stimulation, there could be no doubt at all about the fact that it had been great.
Bart didn't give me very much time to think, though. His cock looked like a broom handle, and I imagine that it must have been almost aching with the tension that it was under. He had gotten fantastically turned on watching me get my cunt licked by the cat, and now he just had to get his rocks off.
Without even asking me if I wanted to fuck, he got on top of me and shoved his rod in.
I felt so exhausted from the come that I had just had that I would have really preferred to wait before going on to the next round, but one of the things that I do sort of like about Bart is the way that he's a really manly, take-charge kind of guy. If he wants something, he just takes it. That can be pretty irritating, of course, but at the same time, what girl would like a panty-waist for a boyfriend?
Besides, after the cuntlapping, my appetite was really whetted for some good hard prick. Tongue jobs are really nice, and I really enjoy them. But there's nothing for a woman that can match the feeling of having good hard prick-meat up her cunt.
And man, that's what I got! He was about as hard as any male could possibly get. His cock was almost painfully rigid and unyielding, but that made it all the more exciting. After all, men are supposed to be hard, just like women are supposed to be soft.
In! Out! In! Out! He started off pretty fast, too. I guess that he felt way too charged up to want to build up from a slow start. I didn't mind, though. Every one of those fast, hard strokes pulled my labia across my clit in the most delightful way, and it wasn't long before the two of us were equally charged up, equally in need of a come.
Buck! Buck! Buck!
I felt my hips give little counterthrusts, so as to increase the stimulation for both of us. I just couldn't believe how totally filled up and female I felt as he possessed and owned me with that mighty tool of his.
He was working away like crazy now, really slamming his rod into me, really giving me the old piston action, and I found my breath coming in frantic little gasps as I got closer and closer to my come.
Then, one final vigorous thrust, and I felt my pussy dissolve in a series of shuddering come-spasms, while his over-wound prick let its tension go in gush after gush after gush of boy-cream!
My parents are kind of strict about what time I'm supposed to be back from dates, so we didn't have time for anything else after that, but I felt so totally satisfied that that was fine by me.
Once again, though, as the actual physical excitement receded, all sorts of uncomfortable feelings started to come more and more to the fore. On the car ride home, I really had to force myself to chat with Bart. My natural inclination would have been to just sit morosely in the car. I didn't want to do that, because then he would have figured that I was dissatisfied with him. I don't think Bart is the kind of guy to take easily to that sort of silent criticism.
When I got in, I found my father in the living room. He's a nice guy, and the two of us have always gotten along well. He asked me how my date was, and when I told him that it had been fine, he said he was glad. That really made me feel pretty low, too. I mean here I have this kind, generous father, and what do I do? I go out and have sex with animals.
I went up to my room and cried for a while. I felt really down. I even decided that if necessary I was going to break up with Bart rather than keep on with this business with the animals. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy having my cunt lapped by a dog or a cat while it was actually going on. In fact, that was a really neat experience physically. But I just couldn't handle the emotions that went along with it, particularly the ones that hit me after each session.
The next day, though, when I saw Bart in school, I knew that I could never leave him. Something about him looked so masculine and self-assured. And when I had spent about a half hour in my first class, seeing what juvenile little monkeys the boys my own age were, I thought that I must have been crazy to have even contemplated giving Bart up. So he had this thing about wanting me to have sex with his pets. That was sort of offbeat, it was true, but at least all it had ever involved was a bit of cunt-lapping. He had never asked me to actually fuck with his dog, for instance.
Though I didn't know it, that was just over the horizon. That very weekend, when he and I had gone to a movie and then over to his house, he whistled and K.O., the big boxer, came bounding into the room.
To say that my feelings were ones of resignation wouldn't be entirely accurate. The thing is that although after each sex session with the animals I usually felt pretty depressed, before each one I usually felt so excited from the mere fact of being with Bart and knowing that I would be having sex with him soon that I almost looked forward to the animal tongue-action.
Except that this time tongue-action wasn't what Bart had in mind.
"Honey," he said, "I think that it's time to move on to phase two."
"Meaning?" I asked. I gave a little nervous shudder, though, since I had a pretty good idea of what phase two would involve.
"His prick," Bart said in a tone that sounded so final and determined that I knew there was no way I could talk him out of what he had in mind. And like I said, at that point I'm not so sure that I would have wanted to talk him out of it.
"How do you want me to do this?" I asked. "Get on your hands and knees, and he'll take care of the rest," Bart said.
I did as I was told, and it was only a second or two before I felt the soft paws of the dog resting on my ass. Then the paws moved up to my shoulder-blades as K.O. got in closer so that he could ram his dog-prick into my cunt.
The idea of having a dog's penis inside me sort of disgusted me, but at the same time, it really kind of turned me on, too.
I didn't have long to wait to find out whether I'd actually enjoy fucking with the dog, though, because K.O. wasted no time in slipping his cock on into me.
He did it very expertly, and the ease with which he found my hole made me suspect that I was far from the first girl that K.O. had ever done this with. That wasn't too surprising, though. If having a chance to watch a girl have sex with a dog was as important to Bart as he indicated, there was every reason to suppose that just about every girlfriend that he .had ever had had gone through this too.
In the prick went, and then out again. In-and-out. In-and-out.
I had to admit that the long, thin rod really did feel pretty nice inside me. My cunt was contracting spasmodically around it as it slid back and forth on my fast flowing pussy-juices. I'm a pretty wet female anyway, and I was really lubricating up to beat the band this time.
And just like the time before with the cat, Bart came around and started to fondle my tits.
This time, though, they were hanging heavily from my body, and that gave him all sorts of other things that he could do with them. He pressed them up against my chest and let them drop, he made them swing from side to side, he tweaked and rubbed the nipples, and he did about a zillion other things, all of which really got my breasts charged up like crazy. The nubs were throbbing with excitement, and I felt just about as charged up above the waist as I did below.
That's saying .quite a lot, too, because I was really going almost out of my mind with excitement at the sensations that the big dog was causing to my cunt. The rhythm that he had was totally different from Bart's, and though Bart is the only guy I've ever fucked with, I guessed that the way in which the dog fucked as probably totally different from the way in which any guy would fuck. There was something almost mechanical about it, about the evenness of it. I guess that the reason for that is that dogs just fuck on instinct, and all that instinct has to take care of is giving the rod enough stimulation for it to be willing to spew its load up into some bitch's cunt.
That just made it sort of more exciting for me, though. Even though after one of these canine fucks I don't feel so good about it, during one, the idea that I'm letting a dog's prick in me to please my boyfriend really kind of turns me on for some reason.
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck!
I felt my cunt get more and more frantic, felt my body wind tighter and tighter, get more and more excited....
"Come! Make me come! Make me come!" I gasped to the dog, as if he could understand me.
He just kept pounding away inside me, but that was good enough. Just a few more strokes, and then all of a sudden, I felt his prick tremble inside of me, felt the jism spatter up into my most intimate feminine recesses.
That was more than enough to get me off, and so my cunt started to really clutch at the animal's penis while my hips trembled and shuddered with the agonizing ecstasy of my orgasm!
"OHHHHHH!" I sighed as I felt the spasms leave me. It had been a really first class fuck, and if I could go by previous experience, it was going to be followed by another one just as nice, this time from Bart!
I had it right on the money there. The glitter in his eyes and the furious stiffness of his cock told me just what it was that he wanted. And I was more than happy to give it to him.
One thing about Bart. His sexual tastes may be a bit offbeat, but there's nothing at all unimaginative about them.
"This time, baby," he said, "let's try something different. Hold your knees together, and I'll give you a fuck like you've never had before."
"You're going to fuck me while I've got my knees together?" I asked. "How?"
"Just do like I say, and you'll find out, won't you."
There was no arguing with that kind of logic.
I lay on my back with my knees pressed tightly together, and Bart got on top of me like he was going to give me a regular fuck, but with his knees on the outside of mine.
He had his cock in his hand, and he used the hand to guide his tool between my legs. Because the flesh of the thighs is very soft, Bart's cock had no difficulty at all in pushing it to one side. The entrance to the cunt was another matter, though. The labia were pressed tightly together there by the legs, and that meant that he really had to work his cock into me slowly. That turned me on like crazy, too, since my ultra-sensitive cuntlips were pressed between my thighs and his cock.
As for my cunt itself, that didn't feel all that tight on his penis. I guess that because it's up inside the hips, it doesn't make much difference to it what kind of position the legs are in.
Bart waited for a moment before doing anything, so I could savor the pressure on my labia. Then, he started to work his prick back and forth inside me.
It was really interesting to compare the action I was getting from him with the action I had gotten from K.O. The dog, like I said, started off fast and kept up the same tempo in an almost mechanical sort of fashion. Bart began slowly, and then increased the speed bit by bit as he worked me up to my come.
In ... out ... in ... out....
That feeling of prick sliding in and out inside me was just too much. I was making little purring noises now as I felt my clit get the maximom amount of stimulation imaginable. It was really confined down there with my labia and thighs, and it was loving every second of the fuck.
In! Out! In! Out! The tempo was getting a lot faster now, and there was something more determined about the thrusts. There were little beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, and the look in his eyes told me just how furiously excited he was.
Cock! Cunt! Cock! Cunt!
Almost there ... almost ... almost....
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Then ... I ... was ... coming!
And he was coming too, shooting a stream of warm man cream up into me.
Spurt! Spurt! Spurt! It was amazing how much of the stuff he had in his balls.
A final little tremble, and the fuck was over, and the two of us were lying there gasping and panting for breath.
Bart pulled out, and then gave a glance in the direction of K.O. He thought for a moment, and then said, "no I expect you'd enjoy it more some other time."
"What?"
"You'll find out."
And so I did, the very next evening. What Bart had had in mind was for me to suck the dog's prick. The reason he had decided to wait on it was because he wanted to introduce me to the art of blowing dogs under the best possible circumstances. And he figured that since K.O. had already had one come, he wouldn't have enough spunk in his balls for the second shot for me to really appreciate just what a nice thing sucking dog-prick really is.
That's what he told me, at any rate. But now the dog was fresh, and there wasn't a reason in the world that I shouldn't have a taste of it.
My feelings about that were mixed, like they were about every other aspect of the animal sex which I had engaged in. But since Bart wanted me to suck K.O.'s prick, I was perfectly willing to go along with it.
I knelt next to the dog, and Bart got down on the floor so that he could get a good view. The dog's tool was still inside its sheath, and the first order of business for me was to get it out.
I took hold of the furry container had squeezed. K.O. clearly liked that, because I was rewarded with the sight of a little pink tip appearing at the end of the cock-sheath. That was his penis, starting to come out into the open.
I gave the pink spot a little flick with my tongue, and more of the penis glided into view. That gave me more to work with, and a few more flicks of the tongue soon had it almost all the way out.
Even though I had had all this sex with the big boxer, this was really about the first chance that I had ever had to get a really good look at his prick. I noticed how red it was, how long, how thin, and how enormously hard.
I ran my tongue up and down the length of it, and I heard the dog's breathing get a bit heavier and more labored. Then, I gave a little series of kisses up and down the entire length of the shaft.
A sharp bark indicated to me just how excited the dog was. He was standing very still, but I could see his leg-muscles tremble.
I slipped my mouth over the penis and began to suck on it. I had to admit that the thing really did feel good there between my lips. I have a very sensitive mouth, and I suppose that that's one reason that I get such a charge out of kissing.
I moved my lips up and down the length of the penis, and then all of a sudden, I felt the cock start to move.
I guess because a dog's instincts are all about regular fucking, and don't include anything on oral sex, something in K.O. must have told him that since he felt a pressure on his rod, he should start moving it back and forth. And that's exactly what he was doing. Fucking my mouth.
I had no objections, and decided to jus relax and let him do the work if that was what he really wanted. And to tell the truth, it was kind of an interesting new experience to be fucked in the mouth like that.
Back and forth he went, while I caressed his balls with my hands. Without even thinking of it, I started to feel up my cunt, worming my fingers into my hole and pulling on my labia. I felt good below the waist, I felt good in the mouth ... I felt pretty good and excited everywhere.
Suddenly, I felt the dog's cock give an extra little stiffening (despite the fact that it was already tremendously hard), and then it was firing its load into my mouth.
I pressed my fingers against my clit as I felt the dog cream gush into my throat. And that was where a lot if it was going, too, it was shot out of the rod with such intensity.
I kept right on sucking as I felt the penis quiver between my lips and as I felt my own cunt dissolve into a wild display of fuck fireworks.
A glance in the direction of Bart told me that he was having just as much fun as everyone else. His cock was gripped firmly in his right hand, and was spewing a big load of sperm onto the floor.
After the dog had finished squirting, I slipped my lips off of his rod. Then, I sloshed the sperm around in my mouth a bit. It was really sort of neat to have my mouth filled with the stuff like that, and I'm not exaggerating when I use a word like "filled". Then, I gulped it all down in one big swallow. That was nice too, but already, my excitement had ebbed away to the point that there was a slight feeling of disgust on my part, too.
Anyway, doctor, that's how things have been going on up to now, and I really don't have any way of knowing what it is that I really want. I certainly don't want to lose Bart, but on the other hand, I sometimes really feel pretty awful about the fact that I have sex with animals. And one of the things that makes me feel particularly bad is the fact that while I'm having it, I actually enjoy it.
Adolescence is a confusing and difficult time for human beings, and Suzanne T.'s case well illustrates some of the confusion and uncer-tanity that has to be resolved if the individual is to grow up into a mature, contented adult.
Perhaps strongest of all the adolescent's desires (except perhaps for the newly awakened sexual ones) is the wish to be through with adolescence. "I'm a woman!" Suzanne T. said to herself during her first sexual experience, and perhaps the identical phrase is flashing through the minds of countless girls her age as the., reader peruses this phrase. Sex is, of course, the most potent symbol of adulthood that there is, and for this reason, is a source of the most intense concern and interest to the developing girl, or boy. Among mature adults, sex is a very satisfying extension of the emotions. For the adolescent, it is much more an end in itself. A badge of adulthood.
Suzanne T. correctly remarked that girls mature faster than boys, and her impatience with males of her own age is something that we shall see in many of the cases that follow. It is natural enough for her to be attracted to an older male, but this attraction is not without danger.
The danger in question has nothing to do with loss of virginity, or anything like that. It would be a very antiquated psychologist indeed who would condemn pre-marital sex partners. Rather, the threat lies elsewhere, in the fact that during adolescence, the ego is being molded into its final shape. The individual is insecure, and willing to follow the lead of another who seems more confident. The trouble is that if the other person makes unreasonable demands, and the adolescent acquiesces, he or she make come to take submission as a way of life, and have difficulty ever learning to stand up for him or herself. The ego is never able to reach its proper development.
This is very clear in the case of Suzanne T. Bart is an insecure, neurotic person, whose very insecurity is betrayed by his need to compel young girls to engage in acts that they do not really like. A teenager like Suzanne lacked the confidence to be able to put him in proper perspective and see him for what he is, and instead accepted him as a balanced, masculine individual. She felt that her will was less important than his, and so she sublimated it to his. If he wanted her to have sex with dogs, she would have sex with dogs. Partly because she was afraid of losing him (losing the "adult" sexual relationship that marked her as grown up in her own eyes), partly because she really felt that by being older and more experienced, he must be right. Passivity is, of course, something that our culture tends to inculcate in females, and the wrong set of circumstances can lead to it becoming very marked.
I had to be very careful about revealing this diagnosis to Suzanne, since the role that she had assumed would have almost automatically led her to a furious defense of Bart and a probable refusal to undergo the therapy that I felt was essential for her ultimate happiness. Bit by bit, though, I was able to get her to face up to the fact that there was something that she found fundamentally unpleasant about the idea of having sex with animals. There is nothing wrong with a girl engaging in bestial relations if they are something that she feels comfortable with, but it seemed obvious to me from Suzanne T.'s account that she was not comfortable with them.
From there, in the sessions that followed, I was able to lead her to a gradual acceptance of the fact that she was an autonomous person whose desires ought to count for something. Why, I asked her in effect, engage in an activity which causes you a great deal of guilt?
Her answer to this was, of course, that Bart wanted her to. This was the crux of the whole matter. Getting her to accept the fact that there was no reason that Bart's desires had to be given precedence over hers. Why shouldn't Bart worry about how she felt?
She was very stubborn on this point, but the therapy was helped in part by the fickleness of youth. Young people fall in and out of love very quickly, and another senior in her school caught her eye. She remained loyal to Bart for quite a while, but her growing awareness that he was not, in fact, the only boy in the world, made it more easy to accept the idea that his word should not necessarily be law.
The whole process was very long and difficult, but at the end of a year of therapy, her self-confidence had increased to the point that she was willing to tell Bart that she was only interested in maintaining the relationship if he stop insisting that she have sex with his pets. He refused, and she left him. It was not long before she took up with another boy (not the one who had first attracted her attention from Bart, by the way), and this boy turned out to be much more willing than Bart had been to respect her feelings and wishes. Therapy had achieved its goal, which had not been to stop the bestiality as such, but to bring her to a clearer understanding of her own importance as a person.
CASE HISTORY THREE
Julie V. was a very pretty fourteen-year-old with the most magnificent pair of deep brown eyes. There was something about those eyes, however, which indicated that she trusted absolutely no-one.
She was brought in by her mother, a well-dressed, very aggressive woman in her early forties.
"Doctor," the mother said, "it's just unspeakable what I've found Julie doing. She'll have to really be straightened out, and the sooner the better."
"I'm not sure that I'm in the straightening-out business, Mrs. V., " I said.
"You're a clinical psychologist, aren't you. Isn't that what you are supposed to do? Fix up people so that they won't go and do shameful things any more?"
"I try and help people. Make them happier...."
"And people who do shameful things aren't happy, right? And that means that you have to fix them up."
Mrs. V. was one of those people who are so sealed off in their own little egotistical world that they make a decision as to what another person is going to be like, and then impose this impression on reality by carrying on both sides of the conversation, if necessary. Mrs. V. had decided that the doctor was going to fix her daughter up, and as far as she was concerned, that was all that there was to the matter.
I could, of course, have deflated Mrs. V.'s aggressiveness if I had wanted to, but I did not for two reasons. In the first place, scoring points like that is rather childish, and secondly, I could well imagine that the daughter of such a woman might have some very substantial psychological problems. If I antagonized Mrs. V. needlessly, she might well leave and go in search of some psychologist or psychiatrist who would agree with her that the only real problem was that of getting her daughter to follow accepted norms of behavior. If you shop around long enough, you can find almost anything. It was my hope that I might actually be able to do the child some good if the mother was willing to entrust her to my attentions.
"Well, Mrs. V., " I said, "I trust you understand that I can make no guarantees, and that the strictest confidentiality will have to be maintained."
Many parents rather bridle at that, despite the fact that without the patient being assured of the most complete confidentiality, no progress at all is possible. But Mrs. V. did not blanch. I suspected that she felt that whenever she wanted to find out what I had learned, she could simply use her overbearing personality to get me to reveal it. That is not, of course, how things turned out.
"Now, the reason I've brought her here is because of the perfectly filthy things that she does. Just the other day, I walked in on her, and she was ... having sexual relations with her pet dog!"
Mrs. V. stared at me with a look that suggested that she expected me to be every bit as overcome with disgust at the idea as she was. When my face showed no signs of shock or horror, I thought that I noticed a little flicker of satisfaction in the deep brown eyes of her daughter.
"The thing is, Mrs. V., that I will have to learn all the details from your daughter herself. That is how this sort of thing works."
"Oh, very well," Mrs. V. said petulantly. I explained to her that if she would go out for a walk or something, I could use the remainder of the hour to begin work with Julie. The mother's irritation at not being able to participate more was eased by the thought that the "fixing up" that she so urgently wanted for her daughter was going to begin right away.
I did not, of course, have any intention of conducting the therapy along those lines which Mrs. V. chose to dictate. My only concern was the welfare of the patient.
As soon as Mrs. V. left, her daughter looked at me with those big brown eyes and it look on her face could probably best be described as a malicious smile mixed with resignation and bitterness.
"In case you're wondering, Doctor, she's always like that," Julie said.
"And you don't approve?" "What do you think?"
"I think that I'd like to hear your side of the story," I said.
"Okay," Julie said, and began her account without the slightest trace of embarrassment. And always with that strange smile on her face....
I had a father once, of course, but he vanished about four years ago. According to mother's account, he was sort of a scoundrel and a no-account who married her for her money. I don't usually trust anything that she says, but in this particular case I'm rather inclined to take her word for it. Why else would anyone marry a woman like that if it wasn't for her money?
And there's quite a lot of money, too. That's good from mother's point of view, since it enables her to show off all the time. She tries to impress the people she can't bully. She's totally unable to impress me, and the bullying doesn't quite work. Almost, but not quite. That's why she dragged me in here. To have me remade more to her specifications. Somehow, I don't think you're going to play her game, though, which is why I'm willing to talk to you.
Anyway, she's always loved ordering me about and telling me what to do, and above all making sure that I keep up what she calls the "standards". Keeping up the standards means being a snob, as far as I can tell.
The business with the dogs started three months ago. I go to a private day school, as you can imagine, and the institution is still unisex, if you can believe it. All girls. And that just about drove me up the wall for a start, since for about the last two years, I've found myself getting more and more interested in boys. If I end up not having a good, normal sexual appetite, it'll be all the fault of you-know-who.
Well, in the park one day, I met this really cool boy. He's not a hippy or anything, just a high schooler who's really neat. I bet most mothers would be glad that their daughter was interested in someone like that, since he's basically pretty straight.
We fell into conversation about one thing and another, and he asked me if he could take me out some time.
I asked mother, since she watches me like a hawk, and I wouldn't be able to get away without her knowing it. When I did, she pretty much hit the ceiling.
"You allowed yourself to be picked up in the park like some common little tramp or high-school girl?" she said. It was interesting to see that as far as she was concerned, the two terms were pretty close to synonymous. Anyway, she told me in no uncertain terms that I couldn't go out with Frank, or see him again.
Mother covered the living room in about two strides to get to the phone first when it rang. When Frank (that's who it must have been) asked if he could speak to me, she said, "are you the rude boy who tries to pick up girls in the park? Don't you ever dare call here again!"
There went my blossoming sex life out the window.
That evening, I was sulking in my bedroom thinking about how neat it would have been to be going out with Frank instead of being all cooped up in the house. Suddenly, I heard a scratching at the door.
I knew who that was. It was Plantagenet, my big Irish setter. He and I are good friends, and I was glad to let him in.
"Hullo, boy," I said, scratching the big dog behind the ears. "Are you sure you're fit to associate with me? You only have a pedigree a foot long. Mother certainly can't be too careful in protecting me from riffraff, can she?"
He licked my hand, but then, to my surprise, he began to lick something else, namely my cunt! I was already in my nightie, and that meant that there weren't any panties or anything in the way of his tongue. You know how it is with dogs, doctor. How they're sometimes really pretty crazy about the smell of women's cunt. Plantagenet was like that, and for some reason he had just decided to slide his head under the nylon fabric of my nightie and get at my twat.
"You're supposed to be guarding me, not raping me," I said with a laugh. But laugh or not, there was no denying just how delightful that tongue felt on my cunt. I've beaten off, of course, and in fact I beat off all the time. But somehow, doing something to yourself isn't the same as having it done by a partner, even if the partner in question is only a dog.
Slosh! Slosh! Slosh! that tongue was really sliding everywhere, over my hips, my clit, everything. And my highly sensitive cunt area was getting more and more excited by the attentions that it was being given.
So I decided to just lie back and enjoy this little treat that I was getting.
"Here mother was so afraid that I'd be sexually molested or something by someone whose name was not in the Social Register, and instead I'm getting my twat licked by a quadruped!"
The thought of how I was defying mother was in some ways even more pleasant than the sensations that the tongue was causing on my cunt. Though these were certainly very nice.
I figured that since everything felt so good there below my waist, I might as well do the same for myself up top. So I pulled the nightie all the way up under my chin, and then started in on my tits with my hands, feeling and caressing the soft globes, and pinching and teasing the nipples into a state of almost painful hardness.
The dog's tongue was really going at it now, and I was wiggling my ass against the bed and I tried to keep myself from going crazy with the wonderful sex-sensations that were zinging up and down my spine. I had never guessed that anything could be this nice.
"Lick me boy! Lick me! Lick twat!" I gasped to Plantagenet as he continued to do that, and very vigorously.
My back was arching, my legs were quivering with the tension I was under, and still the dog continued to lick and lick and lick....
"Come! Make me come, boy! Gotta come!"
Then, all of a sudden, the tongue just happened to give a particularly long lick to my clit.
Zinggg! Zanggggg! it felt like lightening was hitting my fun-button. Then, all hell broke loose, as the whole pent-up force of my come burst loose in spasm after spasm of female frenzy.
Coming! I'm coming! I'm coming! I gasped as my hips shuddered and writhed with the force of my come.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
Just blasting! Just blasting!
It was so fucking, freaking fantastically fine!
And finally, it was over....
"Man, that was really something," I half whispered to myself as I collected my thoughts. I had just had the best come ever, and although it's true the only ones that I had to compare it to were ones that I had given myself, I suspected that it would be hard to have a come that was really all that much better than that one.
"You're a good boy, you know that?" I said to the dog as I patted him on the head. He was still licking at my tender cunt, and it took me an instant to realize why.
"Of course! He hasn't had his come yet," I said to myself. All the while that he had been giving me such a fine blast-off, he had been getting himself all the more excited, but without having any means of getting himself off. Well, after having a nice go like the one he had just given me, I certainly wasn't going to be an ungrateful bitch and leave him in the lurch.
I felt too fucked-out to want to take his cock inside me, and besides, even though on one hand the idea really kind of appealed to me, there was something about it that kind of put me off too. I mean, his prick, which was all out in the open, looked so strange. I hadn't ever seen a boy's prick, but I couldn't help hoping that it would be a bit more elegant than the tool that I saw there on the dog. Plantagenet's meat looked just like that, it was so red.
At the same time, it was prick, and that meant that it did excite me. I reached out and touched it, and just feeling the already stiff rod give an extra stiffening between my fingers caused me to feel a little shiver of excitement go zinging up my spine.
I decided that the best way to help him out of his current state of perfectly frantic horniness would be for me to feel him off. That didn't take long, either, he was so excited from having licked my twat. I pressed my fingers together and slid them the length of his cock. His tongue was hanging out, and he was panting heavily. I repeated the gesture, and then all of a sudden I felt the penis give a little quiver as it shuddered off into its come.
Spurt! Spurt! Spurt! the gray sperm came shooting out in little gushes-not so little really-all over my hand and all over the bedspread. I looked at the sight with total fascination. At Miss Hutchinson's Academy, the concentration camp where I get what Mother regards as an education, there isn't much more than the barest nod to the idea of sex education. I'd managed to dope a good deal of info out of books in the public library, but actually seeing a prick in action was something else.
In fact, it so turned me on that I really felt sorry that I had wasted the shot like that. I should have taken the prick in my mouth, or better yet, in my cunt.
Well, there'd always be another time. As it was, things weren't a total waste, since I had plenty of the dog's sperm all over my hand. I lifted my hand up to my face and sniffed at it. Then, gingerly at first, I started to lick it off.
The stuff was great! guess the taste itself was just sort of ordinary, a bit on the sally side, but the knowledge that it was sperm and that it had come from a dog really turned me on. And in addition to the sexual satisfaction was the knowledge that mother would go just about straight out of her mind if she knew that I had done something like this. For the first time that evening, I wasn't disappointed any more about the fact that I had not been allowed to go out with Frank. I had definitely found something a lot more accessible. Every time that mother decided to play the heavy-handed routine (which is about ninety per cent of the time) all I could have to do would be to go off into my room with my dog and get on my back.
I would have really liked to have done some stuff with Plantagenet, but now that he had had his come, he didn't seem to be particularly interested. In fact, he had gotten down from the bed and was scratching at the door to indicate he wanted out.
All the next day, as I sat through the tedium of classes, I thought about how much fun I would be having that evening with my dog. At Miss Hutchinson's a lot of emphasis is laid on deportment, and shit like that, and of course I found it perfectly exquisite to answer all questions with the nutty demure look that they encourage there while thinking all the while about how it wasn't all that long before I had a dog's hard dick up my cunt.
That was what I was counting on too. I figured that there wasn't any point going in for half measures. Sex is about penises in vaginas, basically, and though all the other stuff can be pretty nice, cock-in-cunt is what it's really all about. At fourteen, it was high time that I got myself fucked, and that was something that I definitely planned on taking care of that evening.
After dinner, with mother making various nasty remarks about some one else's daughter who had taken up "with the most inappropriate crowd" (all this by way of a parable, of course, since I had merely done exactly the same thing with Frank) I managed to excuse myself and go off to my room.
There was always the possibility that mother might walk in on my little fun and games, but somehow that didn't bother me. I knew that she'd probably get really hysterical and all, but at the same time the idea of letting her know just how totally she had failed in her efforts to bring me up like a lady was very appealing.
I had the dog with me, and I started out by undressing and then rolling around on the bed in foreplay. I reached down under his belly and took his prick-sheath in my hand. Needless to say, I only had to give it a very little bit of attention before it came sliding on out into the open, ready for action.
I squeezed the cock between my fingers, and felt my clit stiffen with excitement at the realization of how hard and male the dog was. Well, this was it. It was time for me to fish or cut bait, so to speak. The dog was all aroused, and I was too. The only question was whether or not I really wanted him inside me.
That wasn't all that easy for me to answer. The idea of the physical pleasure that I would doubtless receive from having his cock in my cunt was certainly very attractive, and the idea of getting back at mother this way was almost irresistible. The only trouble was that I wondered if I wasn't embarking on a road that I might later regret having taken. After all, what I'd originally wanted still seemed like the thing that I would like best: to have a nice boyfriend like Frank, someone whom I could really care for.
"Well," I decided suddenly, "mom has sure fucked that up." And without more ado, I decided to screw with Plantagenet.
I guess that I should have gotten on my hands and knees in the traditional dog position. That would have made it a bit easier for Planatagenet to understand what it was that I was interested in having him do. But I was so worked up and excited that I didn't think about that just then. I knew that people usually fucked with the woman lying flat on her back and the man on top, and I figured that that would be the best way for me and Planatagenet to try it.
I lay back and spread my legs, with his cock just about where my cunt was.
"G'wan, boy, fuck! Fuck!" I said to him, but he just bent his head down and started to lick at my cunt.
That was all very nice, but it wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I touched his prick, tried to get him to insert it, but still had no luck. I guess that all the mental associations that he had with my hand on his prick had to do with him standing still and me beating him off.
I felt so frustrated that I could have almost cried. But then, I figured out what it was that was wrong, namely the position. I had seen dogs fuck on the street once before, and it occurred to me what I should have known all along. That at least until he got more accustomed to the idea of fucking with a human, Plantagenet would have to have sex in something that was an approximation of the dog-style fuck.
I got up on my hands and knees with his face near my cunt. I was really nervous, afraid that even this wouldn't work, and that I'd have to give up entirely on the idea of having that prick of his inside my cunt. But fortunately, once he saw my twat presented to him in that fashion, he got the idea right away. I felt him put his paws on my back and then he started to poke away at me with his prick.
He was having a bit of difficulty finding the entrance to my twat, and that meant that I had to accept a number of rather uncomfortable jabs with his rod. Finally, I reached back and put my hand on his tool, and then guided the thing on into my pussy.
From then on, he was able to take care of things himself. Women are pretty different from bitches, I guess, and judging from the difficulty which Plantagenet had, the vagina must be placed quite differently. But I guess the feeling of a warm, tight cunt pressing against a prick is the same no matter who, or what, the cunt in question belongs to. Once his rod was inside me, Plantagenet began bucking away to beat the band.
At first, I was too fascinated by the sensation of having something inside me, moving back and forth, to even feel stimulated by it. But that phase didn't last long, and soon I noticed a very definite glow spreading up my spine from my cunt.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I've always known that Plantagenet was a very energetic dog, but I'd never realized just how energetic. As it was, he was really going at me like a jackhammer, and I loved every second of it. The curiosity was already replaced by good, strong physical desire as I felt that cock of his wind me up tighter, and tighter, and tighter.
"Give one for mother! Give one for mother!" I breathed in between strokes. But to tell the truth, the pure element of pleasure in. this fuck was so strong that I didn't even feel that distracted by my dislike of my mother. All I knew was that it was wonderful to be female, wonderful to have a hole in my body like this which a prick could ram up into! I wanted to come, but at the same time, I didn't want the fuck to ever stop. It was just too, too delightful.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
I was really getting close to my come ... really getting close.. '. .
I pressed my right hand against my hanging tits and pinched at the nipples....
Almost there ... almost ... almost,. . .
Then ... I ... was ... coming!
The orgasm hit me suddenly, like a light being turned on. Then my pelvis rocked and heaved with the force of the orgasm that tore through me.
Splat! Splat! Splat! The dog cream erupted up into my heaving insides as Plantagenet unloaded into me.
"Ah! Ah! AHHHHHH!" I moaned as I felt my whole body light up like a Christmas tree with the come-energy that was racing through it. Man, oh man, oh man....
Of course, the big trouble with starting out with a fuck like that, instead of, say, having the dog lick my cunt to begin with, was that he was now all played out and not really very interested in sex any more. The exact opposite was true with me. Oh, I felt a bit tired from the wonderful come that I had had, but that didn't alter the fact that I could get cranked up again pretty fast.
"It's a pity that males weren't designed with same sort of multi-orgasmic quality that we females have," I said to myself. Well, there were other occasions that I would have in which to enjoy the big setter's prick.
I was really grooving on the idea of getting back at mom this way, but I felt that I wasn't really going far enough. It was true that I could just about imagine her hitting the ceiling if she knew what I was up to with my dog, but I wondered if bestiality really fell within the scope of her social pre-jucices. A dog isn't in the Social Register, obviously enough, but then he isn't even in the running. I would imagine that what so bothered mother about a guy like Frank was the fact that it was at least theoretically possible for me to get pregnant by him, or even run off and marry him. Not that I had much of a desire either to get pregnant or to get married, but I felt somehow that as far as paying mother back for being such a pain in the ass, I wasn't really doing it quite right.
And of course, there was the simple fact that I was very curious to find out just what a boy's prick would be like. I imagined that there would be something of the same kind of in-and-out motions of the prick that I had gotten from Plantagenet, but there must be all sorts of other things about fucking with a guy that would be completely different. What would he do with my tits, for example? Well, there was only one way to find out, namely to let myself get picked up like "some cheap little tramp or high school girl" as my mother so delicately put it.
After the business with Frank, she had forbidden me to go into the park anymore, but of course I didn't give a shit about that. If I wanted to go, I was going to go, and that was that.
I guess it's one of the ironies of life or something, but the truth of the matter is that although guys are supposed to be playing the aggressive role in sex all of the time, and girls the passive role, guys are in some way every bit as timid as girls, or even more so.
For three straight days, I spent my lunch hours strolling in the park, hoping that I would get a bit of attention from the boys there. But each time, nothing happened, and I had to head back to my afternoon classes at Miss Hutchinson's without having gotten a nibble, so to speak.
Then, on the fourth day, I had some luck.
"Hi there kid," I heard a voice say. I looked, and there was a guy of maybe seventeen or eighteen, wearing blue jeans and lounging up against a tree.
"Hi."
"Nice pair of legs you got there," he said, eyeing the silly white stockings that all the girls at Miss Hutchinson's had to wear.
"You like?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Want to see some more?"
I couldn't help smiling when I saw his mouth gape open. Boys all like to see themselves as such smooth operators, but when opportunity comes knocking, half of them at least are ready to turn tail and run. This guy, whose name was Jim, I later learned, had probably made that remark about my legs so that he could think of himself as a really hot-shit sort of guy. The last thing that he had been expecting was that I would somehow respond in kind.
"Yeah, I'd like to see some more." He only said that after some hesitation, but one thing that was in his favor was that he was willing to rise to the situation once it had made itself clear. He had just wanted to engage in some playful chaff and banter, but if there was really some cunt in the offing, then he was more than willing to accept it.
"The only trouble though," I said, "is that I have to be back in the concentration camp in forty minutes. You know any place nearby where we can get better acquainted?"
In fact, I felt pretty nervous about all this, since this was certainly the first time that I had ever behaved like this. The business with Frank had been much more innocent and asexual. But now that I had made up my mind, I certainly wasn't going to back out now.
"Yeah," he said, "my folks' place is right there off Dewey Street. It's about ten minutes walk from here. We can get there, get acquainted, and still get back in time for you to not be late for school."
"Sounds fine."
My heart was beating kind of rapidly as we walked up the staircase of the tenement where he lived. But part of that was excitement at the fact that I was finally going to be paying mother back in spades.
Jim was no fool, and he knew just exactly what it was that I wanted. As soon as we got in (his parents weren't home, by the way), he started to unbutton my blouse.
I reached down to his crotch and squeezed his cock between my fingers.
"Pretty nice," he said. "I guess that you know something about how to handle a guy's prick."
In fact, I was working on pure instinct, but it really pleased me to know that someone thought that I was experienced.
He had my blouse off by now, and it wasn't long after that that my bra and dress followed. Then down came my panties, and I was standing there in front of him, completely naked.
He pulled his clothes off without any kind of fuss or bother, and he had a really fine bod, too.
His cock must have been a good seven inches, and it looked about as hard as a tire iron. He was ready and raring to go, and so was I.
He pushed me down onto the sofa in the living room and got on top of me. I was so excited at the prospect of being about to be fucked that I could hardly breathe. But in with the excitement was another emotion, too. A bit of regret.
After all, all that I'd ever wanted was just to have a normal sort of sex life like any other teenage girl. But my dumb bitch of a mother had had to intervene and really mess everything up. Maybe with Frank, who was a genuinely nice guy, I could have gotten a really neat kind of relationship going. As for Jim, he was okay, I guess, but I knew that there was nothing about his personality that attracted me. He was just an instrument that I was using so as to be able to get back at that stupid cunt of a mother of mine.
Well, it was too late to turn back now, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to, anyway. He already had his rod pressing against the entrance to my cunt, and I had to admit that it felt mighty nice and hard.
He gave a quick shove, and I felt his dork fill up my insides as it slid on into me on the thick film of pussy-fluid that I was so busy secreting.
Then, he started to pump away. Nice, long, easy strokes. Plenty of pleasure for my clit and labia. Really nice.
At first, though, being fucked by him was a little bit like being fucked by Plantagenet. That's to say that the mere idea that I was having sex at last was so overwhelming that I hardly had a chance to pay much attention to the actual details of how much pleasure he was causing me.
But, as had been the case when I had let Plantagenet stick his rod inside me, it wasn't long before the pleasure of having that thing slipping back and forth inside me was enough to really make itself felt, so that I no longer lay there wondering at the fact that I was finally being fucked, but instead, reveled in the feeling of having some good hard dick inside me.
Back ... forth ... back ... forth....
I was giving little counter-thrusts now, moving my hips in time to his long, easy motions. He had his hands all over my tits, too, rubbing and caressing them, driving them wild with excitement.
"You like, baby?" he asked as he continued to work my twat with that rod of his.
"You'd better believe it," I said.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! He had the most amazing way of angling his thrusts so that the back of his prick actually rubbed against my clit. That, in conjunction with the feeling of my labia pulled repeatedly across the hard little button, was enough to really put my twat in seventh heaven.
It had only been a minute or two since he had started, but he was doing such a magnificent job that I was already right on the brink of my come, and it was obvious to me that it would only take a thrust or two to get me blasting.
He was taking his time, though, and I got the impression that he was intentionally keeping us both hanging fire so as to maximize the excitement that we felt.
Whenever I found myself getting so hot that I was sure I was going to be coming, he would sort of ease up on my twat a bit, and change the angle of thrust so that I wasn't really getting the full effect against my clit. That would allow me to calm down a bit. Then, when he figured that I could take it, he would step the pace up to its old tempo again.
"In! Out! In! Out!
Almost there ... almost ... almost---
Suddenly, I was coming, and coming hard, with my whole pussy exploding in a wild firework display. I felt my insides churn and boil as. every nerve in my body seemed to let fly at once. And he was matching my come perfectly as he sent his load shooting on up into me in fine, hard gushes.
He rested inside me for a moment before pulling out. Then, he said, looking at his watch, "I think it's time you were getting back to your school. Unless you feel like playing hooky."
I was very tempted to say that I was indeed going to play hooky, and wanted to spend the whole afternoon with him. But I knew that that wouldn't really be too smart a thing to do. I'd be counted missing at Miss Hutchinson's, Mother would be alerted, and of course, when I got home there's be a massive hoo-hah. Not that I couldn't survive that. In fact, I'd survived plenty of them in my time. But I knew that mother is such a suspicious type that she'd really put the screws on a lot tighter. I'd be ordered to spend my lunch hour at school, and heaven only knows what else. No, as far as getting back at mom was concerned, I'd be doing far better by pretending to play along, and then secretly fuck with my dog and with Jim. That way, although mom wouldn't know about the way in which I was getting even with her, I'd know, and get a really strong sort of private satisfaction out of it.
So, on went the prim little white knee-socks, and back I went to Miss Hutchinson's, where the afternoon classes were interrupted as they were every day by the ritual of tea-which was supposed to somehow transform us into cultivated ladies.
Normally all the fakery of sitting there all prim and proper nibbling on little sandwiches and drinking tea really bugged me. But this time was different. As I sat there, I knew that there was still some sperm in my cunt, and I also knew that that Very evening, I would be having sex with my dog.
"Did you have a nice time in school, Julie?" my mother asked me at the dinner table.
"Of course," I said. "After all, it's in school that one learns to be a lady."
At it's in walk-up flats during lunch hour that one learns to be a woman.
I have to admit that although playing cat and mouse with my mother like that was sort of fun, dinner was sort of hard to get through, I was so impatient to have some fun with Plantagenet. He was standing there in the dining room looking at me, and I could tell that he was thinking exactly the same thing I was. It was sort of a little conspiracy of silence against mom, if you know what I mean.
After I got to my room, I was in almost a panic to get my clothes off so that I could get down to business. I glanced at Plantagenet, and saw that his prick was already part way out of his sheath. He knew by now what it meant when I started to undress like that.
I had had him lick my cunt, and I had fucked with him. But I hadn't sucked his prick yet. Well that was a gap in my education that I meant to fell as soon as possible.
"Here, boy," I said to him as I knelt beside him. I sent my tongue darting against the taut pink skin of his prick. Of course, that made the thing get even harder. If ever a rod was ready for action, that one was.
I slipped my mouth over the penis, and started to suck. It was sort of strange having something like that in my mouth, but it was also very nice. I slipped my lips along the thing as far as they would go so that I could get at his prickroot, and also so that I could feel his prick-tip press up hard against the back of my mouth, almost at the entrance to my throat.
He gave a yelp, which may have been a yelp of pleasure, or maybe one of impatience. I couldn't be sure, but I figured that I had better get down to business, so I started sliding my mouth back and forth along the length of his hard shaft.
Having that male thing inside me like that was such a turn-on that I found my cunt dripping wet in no time. I moved my hand down between my legs and started to feel myself up. The pressure of my fingers on my cunt was really nice, and because I've been masturbating for about two years I had a pretty good idea of the sort of things that my pussy really enjoyed.
I worked my fingers into my cunt, and pressed them against the tender cunt-walls. Then I sort of flicked at my clit with my thumb, while my hip shuddered with pleasure.
Suck! Suck! Suck! I was drawing away on that penis of Plantagenet's like someone drawing on a cigar that isn't going right. The big Irish setter was standing very still, but I could tell from the way he was breathing just how tremendously excited he was.
Not that he was much more excited than I was. My cunt felt like it was going to catch fire if I gave it too much more attention. In fact, I figured that I had better ease up on my twat a little bit if I didn't want to find myself coming before the dog did.
Suddenly, I felt his rod sort of quiver in my mouth, and I could perfectly well guess what that meant. I pressed my thumb hard against my clit just at the moment that the first gob of dog cream splattered against the back of my mouth.
I felt my clit send a little bolt of electricity through my cunt, followed by another and another, as my cunt shuddered off into a wild come. I pressed my fingers against my female flesh as hard as I could while continuing to suck on the gushing dog-prick.
It seemed to take forever for either of us to quiet down, but finally, about the same time that my pussy finally finished unwinding, his penis gave a last little dribble that marked the end of its action. And that had been quite some action, while it lasted. My mouth was really full of the gray dog-spunk. I sort of basted the Irish setter's prick with it, using my tongue to slosh the dog's own juices all over his cock. Then, I pulled my lips off of the thing and drank the stuff down.
It might seem that I had really done just about everything to get back at dear old mother that I possibly could, but it happened that an opportunity was going to present itself for me to go one better on the things that I had already done.
I was in Jim's apartment, which was where I spent most lunch hours now, and he was getting ready to fuck me when a dog suddenly walked into the room. By this time, when I saw a dog, the first thing I did was glance at the belly of the animal to see if there was a cock there. Sure enough, there was. The dog was a big, healthy mongrel with a friendly look on his face and a wagging tail.
"That your dog?" I asked.
"Uh huh. Sort of. I mean, when he feels like it, he's my dog. Sometimes, when he doesn't feel like it, he just wanders off for a week or two. I guess he-likes his freedom."
It goes without saying that my heart went out to the creature at once.
"Would you like me to do something nice for him?" I asked.
"Sure. What do you have in mind?"
I was already naked, and all I had to do for an answer was to get onto my hands and knees so that my cunt was facing the dog.
I don't know whether the dog, whose name was Boomer, had ever licked twat before, but he sure didn't want to pass up this opportunity to do so. No sooner had I presented my cunt to him, than he moved his muzzle up to me and started to slurp away with his tongue.
Jim gave me the impression of being the sort of guy who'd been around quite a bit, but that didn't prevent him from being sort of astonished by the sight in front of him.
"Don't just stare," I said, "why don't you join in?"
"Join in?"
"Sure. Get on the floor near me, and I'll show you what I mean." As soon as Jim was there on the floor with me, of course, I took his prick in my mouth and started to suck on it.
Jim's meat is always pretty hard, but this time it seemed particularly so, and I couldn't help suspecting that the reason for that was that he was really excited by the idea of being engaged in a threesome involving a dog.
It was interesting to compare the feel of his prick in my mouth to that of Plantagenet. The dog's cock was so much thinner, and it had an almost triangular shape, too. But different though the two pricks were, they had something really in common too. They were very hard, very vibrant, very male.
It didn't take much sucking before I got a mouthful of Jim's sperm, and the same observation that I made about the feel of the pricks applies. Dog come tastes definitely saltier, and it's got a thinner consistency, too. But there's no mistaking the fact that it and human spunk belong in the same class.
The mongrel got my cunt off at just about the same time that I brought Jim to a come. It was interesting to notice that although all dogs presumably lap cunt on the basis of instinct more than anything else, there really is a certain individuality about the way in which each of them does it.
I guess things could have gone on pretty much the same way for quite some time. I enjoyed sex with dogs, and I liked what I got from Jim, too. Jim wasn't a bad guy, and although there certainly wasn't any deep emotional attachment between us or anything, we got on well enough together. As for really getting involved emotionally with some boy, mother had made that just about impossible. The only guys she would have allowed me to go out with were snots like the ones from St. Fenwick's who came over to Miss Hutchinson's for tea dances. What a load of drips! I guess that maybe one or two of them might have been okay, but it so turned me off to think how mother would rejoice at the fact that I was finally showing an interest in hanging out with the "right sort of people" that I wouldn't give any of them the time of day.
The trouble was that the more I fucked with
Plantagenet, the more careless I got. So one fine day, while he had his rod rammed up inside me, who should walk into my bedroom but dear old mother.
You can guess the scene. The near faint (doubtless for dramatic effect), the hysterical screams. All the effort to make me feel guilty, ("you know, Julie, I've spared no expense or effort to bring you up properly"). In short the whole bit. Mother has a friend, Mrs. P., who was a patient of yours once. The two of them are as thick as thieves, so it was to Mrs. P. that mother went for advice. That's where Mother got your name, and that's why I was dragged into this particular office.
There can be no human activity in the world more difficult to do properly than to be a parent. The reason is that children are so susceptible, that the slightest mistake on the part of a mother or father can have very profound repercussions. And in cases such as that of Mrs. V., where what was not involved was not just one mistake, but her whole approach to child-rearing and indeed to life, the effect can be devastating.
Julie V. said that originally her only desire was to have a nice relationship with some nice boy. And there is no doubt that she was telling the truth. The whole interview with me was marked by a tone of great sincerity. After having had to put up with her difficult mother over the years-a task of necessity involved all sorts of pretense and deceit-she was glad to at last have some one to whom she could talk honestly. All she asked for was to be judged on her merits.
Unfortunately for Julie, her desire for a normal life ran smack against her mother's neurotic social prejudices. I say neurotic because in this day and age, the only mothers who are-likely to prohibit their daughters from having anything to do with nice, straightforward middle-class boys like Frank are ones like Mrs. V. who are so personally insecure that they see their social position as the only thing they have.
Unreasonable behavior on the part of a parent often begets retaliation on the part of the child, and that was what had happened here. Sometimes the child prefers open rebellion, and does such things as steal cars and otherwise get in trouble with the police. Others, like Julie, prefer a more quiet, low-key revenge, but one which is just as full of personal satisfaction. When I first saw Julie, I noticed that enigmatic smile of hers. She was a very intelligent girl, and one given to fantasy. The smile symbolized her recognition of the fact that there are all sorts of different ways of getting back at some one, and that she was happy to have found just how many there were. Not that she was by nature a vicious girl, but her mother had driven her to distraction.
Of course, the private, inner revenge and the more open kind are just extremes. All sorts of graduations exist between them. Subconsciously, Julie in some sense wanted to be discovered by her mother. She would never wait until the latter had gone to bed, I discovered in a later interview.
What is interesting about Julie is the way in which she maintained such good contact with her basic feelings. When having sex with Jim, for instance, she thought about how she would have preferred a boy with whom she could have related more on an emotional level. And though her desire not to conform to her mothers wishes made her reject the boys at the tea dances, a certain sense of fairness compelled her to admit to me that not all of them were "drips."
It should be obvious just how badly she was in need of therapy, for she had fallen into the most dangerous of all psycho-roles: hurting oneself so as to hurt another person. Although on one hand she appreciated the fact that there were various different ways for her to get back at her mother, in a sense these were all the same way. They all involved degrading herself so as to go against her mother's excessively exacting standards of behavior.
For instance, there was nothing wrong per se in her getting involved with a boy like Jim. He seems to have a reasonable enough sort of fellow. But the way she picked him up, almost sollicking him like she was a streetwalker, indicates clearly how she wished to make herself as base as possible. (It should be pointed out that although Jim did make the first remark in the park, she herself correctly sized it up as having been made more for his own ego than for any other reason.)
Obviously, much more was at stake here than her mother's refusal to allow her to see Frank. That was just the straw that broke the camel's back. After all, she had met Frank in her lunch hour in the park, and there was nothing to prevent her eventually meeting some other boy she liked there without having to play the role she did. If she could have a sexual relationship with Jim during lunch hours, she could have had a sexual and emotional one with him or someone else if she wanted without degrading herself. Clearly, her desire for revenge on her mother was one of long standing.
The trouble with treating a child or adolescent is that they have little chance to get away from the home environment that caused the trouble in the first place. Still, it is sometimes possible to get a person in Julie's situation to adjust to it, and that is what I eventually succeeded in doing. I managed, over the course of about a year, to convince her that for her to hurt herself so as to get back at her mother wasn't really worth it. Instead, I managed to make her understand, she'd be much better off if she could bring herself to look on her mother as a tiresome aspect of her life that was best ignored. After all, she would have to be living with her for a few more years.
At the same time, I told the mother that the bestiality that she was so worried about could only be contained if her daughter was permitted to socialize with boys of her own choosing. This was a bitter pill for Mrs. V. to swallow, but faced with a choice between allowing her daughter to have a middle-class boyfriend or living in fear that she might be off romping with a dog somewhere, Mrs. V. finally chose the former.
Just having that much liberty gave Julie a chance to gain a certain emotional calm in regard to her mother. She eventually met a boy like Frank and had a teenage romance marked, for all the inevitable juvenile aspects, by genuine tenderness and affection on both sides. With this available, Julie found that she was no longer interested in having sex with dogs.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
Penny W. was a pretty fourteen year-old who came to see me at a time when I was working one night a week at a low-cost clinic. Her parents could certainly have afforded private therapy, but she was afraid to tell her parents what her problem was. Instead, she came to the clinic on her own, and paid the minimal charges with money that she made from baby-sitting.
She fidgeted nervously in her chair, and it was obvious that she was torn between the desire to get some help for her problem, and the desire to leave at once before she had to tell anyone what it was that had been bothering her.
"I don't know, Doctor," she said, eyeing the door she had just entered by. "I'm afraid that maybe I'm wasting your time. I mean, there are probably all sorts of people a lot worse off than I am who need your services...."
"Well," I said, "there isn't any way that I can tell whether you need my services or not unless you fill me in on the details of what it is that's bothering you."
"N-no, that's true. But I don't even know if I should be here. I mean this clinic is supposed to help poor people, isn't it, and my father actually makes plenty of money...."
"But to get him to pay for psychiatric help for you, you'd have to tell him something about what your problem is, wouldn't you? And you couldn't bring yourself to do that in a million years, I bet."
"No, I couldn't.. . , " Penny said, casting her eyes down.
"Penny," I said, "why don't we stop playing this little game of cat-and-mouse, and instead have you tell me what it is that's causing you trouble. The purpose of this clinic, as you know, is to help people who can't get assistance in any other way. And I'm perfectly satisfied that that applies to you."
"I suppose you're right...."
"Look, you know as well as I do that this sudden attack of altruism on your part is linked with the fact that you're ashamed of something and you don't want to tell a third party what it is. But unless you can bring yourself to do just that, you're going to have to go on being ashamed of it for the rest of your life. Problems don't go away by themselves."
She looked up at me with a sudden resolution in her eyes, and then she said, "all right, Doctor," and began her story---
I've always been really curious about what it would be like to have sex with a boy, but unfortunately, a lot of the boys in my age group are too timid to try anything. I suppose they like to talk a big game, but that's about the end of it.
I have a really good friend Mary Jane. She and I have been as thick as thieves ever since we were really little, and ever since we got our periods we've talked all the time about what boys must be like.
Our school has a sex education program, so we had a pretty good idea of the basics, but there's an awful lot of difference between seeing an animated film about fucking and getting a chance to actually do it.
The business with the dogs started a couple of months ago, when Mary Jane was over at my place. My mom and dad were out for the evening, so Mary Jane and I were there alone except for the presence of Killer, my Doberman. The name Killer was given to him as a joke, by the way, since he's the sweetest, gentlest animal that you could ever hope to find.
Mary Jane had brought over a book about sex that she had taken out of the library. It was pretty much the same sort of stuff that we got out of the sex education course at school, except for the fact that there was more discussion of different positions, and ways of increasing pleasure.
We were reading the book pretty intently, with Killer snoozing on the floor next to us.
"If only we had a chance to see a penis," Mary Jane said. "I mean, after reading about them, and hearing about them in school, all I can think of is how great it would be to actually get a chance to met one."
"It would be pretty nice to have a chance to actually feel one, too," I said.
"Sure, but I'd be at least partly satisfied with a chance to actually feast my eyes on one."
"Did you notice that bulge in Steve K.'s pants?"
"What, today? You'd better believe it," Mary Jane said.
"You know, if you're so eager to get a look at some prick, you could always look at Killer's."
"That's not such a bad idea," she said. The two of us went over to the sleeping dog, and I tickled him on the ears to make him roll over.
In fact, I hadn't thought of checking out my dog's male equipment before. I guess I had just always taken for granted the fact that he was male.
"It sure doesn't look much like the pricks in the sex books, does it?" Mary Jane said.
"Well, it's still tucked up inside that furry sheath. I think that once we get it out of that, it'll look more like what we're interested in."
I think I should point out, Doctor, that at this time, I'm sure that neither of us had the faintest idea of actually having sex with Killer. We just wanted to get a look at some prick in the flesh.
"How do we get his cock out in the open?" Mary Jane asked. "Just touch it." "You think that'll do it?" "You can always try."
What I think was involved here was that neither of us was quite sure that she really wanted to touch the dog's penis. Not because we were afraid of Killer-like I said, he's a real cream-puff-but because there was something so strange and foreign-seeming about the idea of a prick. It's something that no girl has anything even remotely resembling. Even the clit is awfully different.
Finally, Mary Jane reached out and touched the thing, almost like someone touching a hot stove.
The pink tip of the prick slid slightly out of the furry sheath.
"See," I said, "that'll make it come out."
We were both really fascinated by the sight of the thing sliding out into the open.
I didn't want Mary Jane to think that I had less nerve than she did, so I reached out and quickly touched the cock. I actually touched the pink tip, and of course, that made the thing come sliding out of its sheath all the quicker.
Killer, who was still pretty sleepy, clearly didn't mind any of this, In fact, I got the impression from the way in which he thumped his tail against the carpet that he was quite enjoying it. Well, little did he know it, but there was lots, lots more action to come.
Mary Jane and I were both giggling uncontrollably as we took turns touching the penis. It was all the way out into the open now, and the sight of that hard male member had both of us very excited. I could feel the pussy juice drenching my panties and making them cling wetly to my tender girl-parts. And as for Mary Jane, the glitter in her eyes, and the way she was breathing heavily, told me pretty clearly that she wasn't exactly calm about all of this.
We were even rubbing the cock now, in quick strokes, and Killer was getting more and more excited. He was still lying on his side, but he was kind of scooting his body around, and moving his paws back and forth. The thumping of the tail had become a regular drumbeat.
All of a sudden, I felt the prick stiffen up a bit more between my fingers, and then start to shoot sperm out into the air.
I thought for a moment I was going to come myself, I was so excited by the sight of that stuff gushing out of the thin red dick. A lot of it landed on my hand.
Both Mary Jane and I were very silent. I think we were kind of awe-struck by the sight of an actual male orgasm. A dog's orgasm, but male nevertheless.
"You know," Marry Jane said, "if that was a boy's spunk, I bet that you'd want to lick it off your hand."
"How do you know that I don't?"
"Why don't you then?"
"Why don't you?"
Again, I think that it was something that both of us wanted to do, but each was afraid of what the other one would think.
"I'll do it if you do," Mary Jane said finally, and I nodded. I held my hand up to my mouth and licked at it. Then I held it out to Mary Jane, and she licked too.
"Mmmmmm, not bad," she said.
In fact, I was a bit disappointed in the taste as such, but the idea that I was licking sperm was enough to make my already pebble-hard little clit give a special tingle of excitement.
In fact, I was really horny, and very much wanted Mary Jane to leave to that I could have a nice, quiet little beat-off while thinking about Killer's prick.
I guess that she felt the same way, because after a few more minutes of inconsequential conversation, she said that she had to get back to her place because her mother wanted her to do some things.
As soon as the door closed behind her, I went straight up to my room and tore off my clothes. Then, I pressed my hand against my crotch as hard as I could and flopped down on the bed.
For a while, I didn't make any moves or anything. I just lay there enjoying the pressure that my fingers were putting on my cunt.
The sight of that big penis shooting dog-cream was really something else. After a few seconds, I stopped just cupping my crotch and began to trail my fingers back and forth across the surface of my cunt.
I was as if I had just gotten out of the bathtub. My clit was so stiff that it nearly ached, and as for my labia, they were so sensitive that they could hardly bear to be touched.
I wormed my fingers into my twat (a bicycle seat took care of my maidenhead a year before) and pressed my fingertips against the soft, wet cunt walls. That was really delicious, but I couldn't help thinking how much better a prick would feel in there. A dog's prick? Even a dog's prick. I wasn't sure that I was ever going to go so far as to allow Killer to stick his rod up into me, but in my present state how much better a prick would feel in there. A dog's prick? Even a dog's prick. I wasn't sure that I was ever going to go so far as to allow Killer to stick his rod up into me, but in my present state of excitement, I wasn't all that sure that I warnt going to, either.
I rubbed my thumbs back and forth across labia, and then pressed them hard against my clit. There was a moment's numbness, followed by a flash of pure sensation as my body began to busk and heave and writhe to the force of my come.
"Killer! Killer! Killer!" I moaned as I pressed my fingers against my soggy, spasming pussy-flesh and thought about that dog-prick gushing its wad out onto the floor and onto my hand.
When I was done, I felt a bit sheepish and ashamed of myself. Not for beating off-I've never had any hang-ups about that-but for allowing myself to get so carried away by the idea of sex with a dog. And for licking his spunk. After all, there really is something pretty creepy and weird about the idea of licking a dog's spunk.
"Hell," I said to myself, "what I need's a good boyfriend, good or otherwise, on the horizon, and I'm a girl with pretty strong sexual needs. So far, the only way that I had of meeting them was by myself or with Killer, and I couldn't help feeling that any kind of partner would be better than none at all.
The next day in school, Mary Jane and I talked over the experience of the previous day. She admitted to having beaten off while thinking about Killer, and that made me feel a whole lot better.
"Why don't I come over this evening, and we can see if we can get him to come again," she said.
In fact, I was sure that she was also interested in seeing what other things could be done with the dog, but so was I. To tell the truth, after having to but up with lonely hand-jobs and sex education books for so long, I was really curious to see some more live male action.
We had the house to ourselves again, and we sat on the floor chatting and tickling Killer behind the ears.
He responded by licking Mary Jane on the hand. I couldn't help noticing how long and thin and flexible that tongue was. Mary Jane noticed the glance that I was giving, and said, "kind of gives you ideas, huh?"
"You too."
"Uh huh."
"Do you think he'd want to?"
"What, lick cunt? Sure. Haven't you ever had a dog that tried to get his face up your dress. They're particularly bad about that when you're having your period, though they do it at other times too."
"Do you want to go first?" I asked.
"Do you?"
"Tell you what,' I said. "You know as well as I do that getting your cunt licked is just a start. There are all sorts of other things that I'd would be interested in trying out. So why don't we flip a coin. You call, and if you win the toos, you get to decide what you want to try. And I'll do something equally good."
That seemed fair to Mary Jane. She won the toss and said that she would let him lick her cunt.
She took her clothes off quickly, and then lay on her back with her cunt right next to the big dog's muzzle.
Killer isn't just gentle, he's also sort of apathetic, so it took a little bit of effort to get him interested. I think that he'd have just as soon slept. But once I held his nose up close to Mary Jane's twat, so that he could smell her female odors, the picture changed quickly. I saw him perk up his ears, and I noticed his cock come sliding out of its sheath. He started lapping away on her cunt with great big strokes of that tongue of his.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp! The flexible member slid back and forth over her pussy, and it seemed like it was getting into just about every little nook and cranny imaginable. The sight of that pink tongue on my friend's pink cuntlips was enough to get me really cranked up. I felt my clit stiffen and my labia tingle. For two pins, I would have beaten off while watching the dog go for her twat. But I thought that I'd wait so that when I got my come doing whatever it was that I did with the dog, it would be all the better. In fact, since up to that time I'd never had a sex partner, I'd never tried to have more than one come in a row. I didn't yet know how completely multi-orgasmic I was.
Mary Jane was arching her back and breathing heavily. She had her hands on her tits and was caressing the soft things vigorously.
"Uh! Uh! Uh!" she moaned as she felt the tongue tease her clit and even work its way part of the distance up into her hole.
I could tell that she wasn't far from her come, and it was a good thing, because I knew that there wasn't any way that I could keep my hands away from my twat for very much longer.
All of a sudden, I saw her pelvis start to buck and heave, and I heard her let out a long, protracted groan. She as coming, and coming hard. I could tell that from the way in which she mashed her hands against her tits, from the way her forehead was covered from sweat, from the way her head was tossing from side to side....
And all the while, the big dog continued to lap and lap on that spasming, agonized cunt....
"Wheewwwwwww!" Mary Jane sighed. "Quite a ride?"
"Quite ... a ... ride...." It was obvious from her tone of voice that she felt almost completely fucked-out and exhausted.
It was clear thought that if she was satisfied, the big Doberman wasn't. His tongue was still slurping away on her spent pussy, and his cock was all the way out of its sheath. It looked even harder than it had the night before, and that meant that it had to be pretty fucking hard indeed.
It was my turn, and my responsibility to do something about that prick of his. At first, I thought about sucking the dog's cock, but then, all of a sudden, I decided that I might as well go all the way. I felt horny as hell, and I knew that it would really impress Mary Jane for me to just casually decide to actually fuck with the dog.
I got onto my hands and knees and presented my twat to the dog. Mary Jane had gotten to her feet, so he wasn't licking her twat any more.
I guess that dogs have sort of one-track minds, because despite the fact that his prick was literally aching for a come, Killer was a bit slow off the mark in recognizing the opportunity that was being presented to him. Instead of mounting me right away, he moved his muzzle up to my cunt and started to lick on it just like he had on Mary Jane's.
"Are you just going to have him eat you out?" Mary Jane asked, a note of disappointment in her voice. She had obviously hoped that I was going to do something a bit different and more daring than she had. After all, that was more or less what I had promised, and after having gone first, which required a fair amount of courage, she quite reasonably felt that I should give her a better show than just a cuntlapping like the one that she had finished receiving herself.
"Oh, don't worry," I said, a bit exasperated by the dog's slowness to understand what it was that I wanted. "Here, lift his paws up onto my back, and you'll get a chance to see something worthwhile."
She did as I asked, and no sooner was Killer in position than he figured out what it was that was expected of him, and went to work. I felt him prod his prick-tip against the entrance to my cunt, and then, after he had figured out where the hole was, he slid his long, thin member on into me. A gasp from Mary Jane indicated that she was indeed suitably impressed.
The cock felt really wonderful as it slid into me. As I felt the walls of my cunt being pressed apart, I couldn't help thinking that this was my real, female destiny-to be entered, filled, possessed by a hard male tool!
I don't think that Killer was so interested in that kind of philosophizing. His bag was sliding his cock back and forth inside a cunt till he got his rocks off, and that was just exactly what he intended on doing here.
He started bucking away rapidly, without a second's pause, and was soon sliding his prick back and forth with very evenly-paced strokes. I've taken music, and I couldn't help thinking that being fucked by Killer was a little bit like being fucked by a metronome. There was a certain slightly monotonous quality.
Well, monotonous as far as the tempo goes. But that doesn't mean that there wasn't plenty of pleasure for me to have, too. Every thrust of that prick pulled my labia across my clit in the most tantalizing,-'exciting manner imaginable. My hips quivered slightly with every stroke that the dog gave me. And adding to my already intense excitement was the thought that this was somehow turning me into a grown woman. If you've had prick in your cunt, you can't be considered a little girl any more, it seemed to me.
Buck! Buck! Buck! This below-the-waist action of his was driving me pretty well out of my mind, and I was managing much the same sort of thing myself above the waist. In fact, I was giving my tits fits. I was moving my shoulders from side to side to make them swing, I was pressing them up against my chest, I was teasing and pulling on the nipples until the little nubs were almost ready to burst with excitement....
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Cock! Cunt! Cock! Cunt! I was quickly turning into one great palpitating mass of come-need.
"Come! Gotta come! Make me Come!" I gasped.
He almost had me there ... almost ... almost....
My eyes were tightly closed now, my tongue was hanging out of my mouth, my shoulders were rocking gently from side to side....
In! Out! In! Out! Nearly there....
"Just can't stand it ... just can't.. . "
And all of a sudden, the dam bust and I was coming, coming, COMING!
My hips bucked and churned, my cunt contracted frantically around the dog's prick, and the prick responded by shooting gob after gob after gob of dog cream deep, deep into me.
"Woman! I'm a WOMAN!" I gasped as I felt the sperm pour on into me. The dog had possessed me, taken me, fucked me....
At last the orgasm subsided, and Killer lost no time in pulling his cock out of me. I would have sort of liked it for him to have left it in there awhile longer, so that I could have felt it actually soften up a bit inside me, but I guess that dogs aren't interested in that sort of thing. Once they've gotten their rocks off, that's it as far as they are concerned.
I got to my feet, and felt the sperm dribble out of my cunt. I looked over at Mary Jane. She was lying on the floor with her hand on her cunt and a very satisfied expression on her face. It was obvious that she had beaten off while watching me get fucked by Killer.
"That was quite something," she said.
"Yeah," I said, "yeah it was."
I think both of us sensed that there was no turning back....
After Mary Jane had left, I started to feel more and more depressed about the fact that I was acquiring such a taste for animal sex. I thought for a moment that maybe I should foreswear any future fucking with Killer. But I'm a pretty good judge of my own willpower. I know perfectly well what promises I can keep and what ones I can't. The feeling of that hard dog-dick sliding back and forth inside me was something that I just wouldn't be able to do without from now on.
In fact, later on that very evening, just before going to bed, I found myself wondering what it would be like to suck on Killer's prick. As you remember, that was the activity that I had originally been planning to fulfill my agreement with Mary Jane with. For some reason, I just couldn't get the image of that cock out of my mind, and every time that I thought about it, I would find my tongue sliding out of my mouth and wetting my lips with anticipation.
"I guess that there's no fighting it," I said. I went downstairs and found Killer sleeping by the fire. I knew that you're supposed to let sleeping dogs lie, but I figured that he wouldn't mind being woken up for something as nice as a blow-job.
In fact, I guess he had already come to associate me pretty closely with sex, because as soon as I woke him up by patting him on the head, his prick started to slip part way out of its sheath.
"C'mon, boy," I said. "I've got something nice in store for you."
I led him upstairs to my bedroom. There, I got him to stand on the bed, while I knelt next to him. I put my hand under his belly and took hold of his cock-sheath, which I rubbed and stroked a couple of times. like I said, the rod was already part of the way out into the open anyway, and the attentions that I was giving it brought it the rest of the way out in no time flat. I could feel the thing pulse and vibrate between my fingers with raw, male energy. My clit tingled with excitement, and I felt a drop of pussy-fluid trickle down the inside of my left thigh.
I bent down and moved my head under the big dog's stomach. There the cock was, all right, hard, long, eager-looking.
I gave a little kiss right on the tip. That caused it to give an extra little surge. Then, I placed my lips around it sideways, and slid them up and down the length of the thing, while Killer stood very, very still and very, very tense.
I ran my lips over his balls, which were pulled up as tight as they could go in their sack. I even took them in my mouth for a while and sucked on them before turning my attention back to the big animal's prick. After all, that was the most important target.
I nibbled at the very end of his cock with my lips, and then finally slipped them over it.
It was a real groove having that long, hard thing there in my mouth. Although you think of the cunt as a more specifically female part of the body than the mouth (after all, guys have mouths too), somehow having that rod between my lips made me feel every bit as possessed and female as having it in my cunt had done.
I slid the lips up and down the length of his prick for a while, before settling down on sucking at the root of the thing, while using my right hand to caress his ball sack. My left hand was busy elsewhere, namely working over my steamy cunt, which was already so excited that it was just about demanding a come.
As I worked my fingers against my labia and up into my hole, I continued to pull on the dog's penis with my mouth. My tongue was inside my mouth, and I was pressing the tip of it against that part of the shaft that was there too. And all the while, the big Doberman stood still and patient. He knew by now that when I got interested in his penis, it meant that he was going to have a good time.
I figure that fucking required plenty of variety, so after sucking on his prick root for a while, I moved my lips up and began to work over the end of his cock. That really drove him wild, judging from the happy bark that he gave and the way in which his legs trembled with excitement....
All the while I was giving my pussy one of the most thorough workouts that it had ever gotten. I was rubbing my clit and labia in all directions, and doing everything else that I possibly could to stimulate my twat.
I was so wet down there that I finally took my mouth off of the dog's prick for a second so that I could lick my fingers. It would be interesting to compare the taste of my female juices with that of the dog's male ones.
I wanted to come at the same time the dog did, and I figured that this wasn't going to be any problem. Already, my twat was just about to melt from cone-need. All I had to do was wait until I knew the Doberman was about to let fly, and then apply a tiny bit more pressure to my clit and labia. That would be enough to get me off.
It didn't seem that that moment was going to be very far off, either. I could tell from the heavy labored breaths that Killer was taking, tell from the way his cock felt in my mouth, tell from all sorts of other little signs that I instinctively understood that he was right on the brink of his come.
I pressed my lips harder against his cock-skin, and at the same moment, I gave a little pinch to my clit.
Bam! I timed it perfectly. At just the exact instant that my pussy erupted into a flaming volcano of come-pleasure, I felt the first gobs of sperm shoot out of Killer's prick and splatter against the back of my mouth.
Gush! Gush! Gush! Man oh man, were those balls of his full!
I held my crotch tightly and reveled in the feeling of my hips trembling and my cunt contracting, as all the time my mouth serve as the sperm-receptacle for a great big dog!
Finally, he stopped shooting, and at long last, my cunt stopped convulsing. We were done, and we both felt very, very played out. I continued to suck on his prick for a while, then slipped my lips off of the thing.
My bedroom has a private bathroom, and I went in and looked at myself in the mirror. I used my tongue to force a drop or two of the dog-spunk up over the top of my lips, so that I could see it dribble down to my chin. I opened my mouth and looked at the pool of semen there, and I dipped my fingers in it and held them up to the light. After playing around like that for a little while more, I gulped the Doberman's load down.
I got into bed and turned out the light. It wasn't easy for me to get to sleep, though. I had really wanted to blow Killer, and I knew perfectly well that tomorrow, I would want to do something similar with him. What I didn't understand was why I felt so bad about this sort of thing in between times.
Sure enough, despite all my guilt feelings of the evening before, when I woke up that morning, I was just as eager as ever to have some sex with that fine big dog of mine. In fact, I would have liked to have a quickie before going off to school, but I just didn't have time. The day dragged on pretty slowly as I waited for school to end so that I could get back to my beloved dog.
"By the way," Mary Jane said to me, "how does Killer get along with cats?" "Cats?"
"Uh huh," she said. "The J.'s have left their cat Pudding with us for a couple of days. I've been thinking that there's all sorts of fun that we might have with him."
"Have you tried out any of this fun?"
"You'd better believe it," Mary Jane said. "In fact, if you think that having your cunt licked by a dog is neat, wait until you try out that raspy tongue that a cat has." "It's small, isn't it?"
"Yeah," she said, "but that just means that it fits in everywhere. I'm not kidding. Getting your cunt licked by a cat is really neat."
"Well, to answer your first question, Killer has never had any trouble getting along with cats, but would the cat get along with him?"
"Oh yes. Pudding's very used to the J.'s old dog, whose boarding out with Sheila while the J.'s are away. I think that the two of them should get along famously."
I had to admit that I was fascinated by the idea of a foursome involving a dog and a cat, so I told Mary Jane that I would bring Killer over to her place. It seems less suspicious to take a dog for a walk than to try and do that with a cat.
The cat in question was a big, lazy looking Persian. Mary Jane asked if I would like to start out by having him lick my cunt.
I agreed, and soon the creature had that raspy tongue going all over my twat. I had to admit that she was completely right. It really was quite a sensation! I guess that tomcats are just as turned on by women's smell as dogs are, because Pudding really licked at me with enthusiasm. Every time that sandpaper surface would drag across my labia, I'd think that I was going straight out of my mind.
Finally, a last lick across my clit was enough to get me over the top, and my cunt exploded in a series of violent shudders while the feline continued to lick and lap at me, like he was drinking from a bowl of cream!
Seeing me get my cunt licked like that had made Mary Jane hungry for some similar action, so she had Killer do it with her while I was getting it from the big Persian tomcat.
Then, after we had gotten our breath back a bit, I decided to see if it would be possible to get Killer to fuck me face-to-face, just like a boy would.
"I've got my doubts," Mary Jane said.
"Me too, but it's worth a try. After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained, or whatever it is that they say."
I lay on the floor with my legs spread, while Mary Jane, acting on my instructions led Killer up so that he was standing with his forepaws above my shoulders, and his hind paws on either side of my hips.
"Okay boy, sit," I said.
He took that pretty literally too, just plunking his ass down on the floor. Clearly, he didn't have a clue as to what it was that I really wanted him to do.
I reached down and took hold of his prick. I gently bent this down away from his body, and then raised my hips slightly. By jockeying around in this fashion, I was finally able to get my cunt over the tip of his cock.
Feeling my pussy flesh press in on his tool like that turned out to be the only inspiration that he needed. Even though the position was of course totally new to him, with that stimulus, he was able to figure out what I wanted. He shoved his rod in, and started to buck it back and forth.
At first, the going wasn't all that smooth, as he tried to get accustomed to the position. But after a while he sort of got the swing of things, and the action improved a great deal.
What was nice was for me to be able to see my partner. There are some nice aspects to be taken from behind, as if by surprise, but it's also nice for a change to be able to get a good look at the fellow who's sliding his cock back and forth inside your body like that.
"Quick," I said to Mary Jane, "go get some beef concentrate if you have it."
Mary Jane headed out of the room quickly and returned with a little bottle of beef concentrate from the kitchen. You know, the kind of stuff that you make beef bouillon with. One drop is used per cup of water to make bouillon, so you can imagine how beefy it tastes undiluted.
I told Mary Jane to pour some of the stuff on my breasts, and particularly on my nipples.
Of course, the dog could smell it, and he immediately started to lick away on my tits to get at the beefy taste. I was really rather pleased with myself for finding this way of getting him interested in licking my tits, since I knew that in general they were something that a dog wouldn't be inclined to show any interest in at all.
Slurp! Slosh! Slurp! That tongue, which felt so wonderful when it was licking my twat, felt every bit as good as it went to work on my tits.
My nipples swelled out with excitement as they felt it rubbing back and forth against them.
And all the time, I had the penis working away inside my twat, back and forth, back and forth.
I stroked Killer's ears and kissed him on his cold, doggy nose as he continued to lay it into me.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
"Come! Need come! Need come!" I gasped in perfect time to his strokes.
And then, I teas coming, with my cunt clutching hard at a cock that responded by shooting gob after gob after gob of sperm up into it.
"Uh! Uh! Uh! UHHHHHHHH!"
And that was it.
For a moment, I had a bit of trouble putting my thoughts together, the come had left me so dazed. All I knew was that I had had a very, very good time.
One thing about Mary Jane: she certainly wasn't a girl who was ever short on ideas. As soon as I had finished with Killer, she said, "now to find out how compatible my cunt and Pudding's prick are!"
"You're kidding, aren't you?"
"Not in the least. After all, look how excited his thing is!"
And it was true enough that the cat's penis was very, very rigid looking. Licking Mary Jane's cunt had obviously gotten the big Persian all worked up, and he needed some relief. I would have thought that Mary Jane would have either given him a hand-job, or maybe blown him, though if I had been her I wouldn't have wanted those claws near my face. But that didn't seem to be what she had in mind.
"How on earth can you fuck with him, Mary Jane?" I asked. "His cock's so small that you'll never notice it in your cunt."
"Not in my cunt, true, but how about on my cunt?"
I still wasn't quite sure what it was that she had in mind, but she didn't take long in enlightening me. She lay back with her legs spread and held the tomcat so that his cock rested against the outside of her cunt. Against the labia and the stiff little clit.
"After all," she said, "the outside of the cunt is every bit as sensitive as the inside, or maybe even more so. That's the principle that I'm working under."
And having said that, she started to sort of undulate her hips, so that her labia pulled back and forth across the cat's penis.
That was done for purposes of inspiration, and sure enough, it didn't take very long for Pudding to get the idea. The big tomcat started to move his hips back and forth, as he masturbated himself on his temporary mistress's tender twat, so to speak. That enabled her to lie back and enjoy the voluptuous pleasures of passivity.
I found the sight pretty enthralling. I had my head down near her cunt, and I could see the cat's hard little prick (well, not all that little, considering the size of the animal) slide back and forth, back and forth on her labia. The pink of the cat's penis just about perfectly matched the pink of her labia. It was all a weltering mass of soggy, wrinkled skin and wild sexual pleasure!
The cat moved his prick faster and faster as he got more and more excited. That was an interesting contrast to Killer, who used pretty much the same tempo throughout each fuck.
Although she had started out enjoying the pleasure of being passive and letting Pudding do all the work, as Mary Jane got more and more excited, she started to move her hips slightly too, to increase the stimulation for both of them.
All of a sudden, I saw the cat's rod start to quiver, and then quite a stream of cock-juice come shooting out. I was amazed at how much of the stuff Pudding had in his balls, but then again, I had been amazed the first time by the amount of jism that Killer had.
As Pudding's penis let fly, I saw Mary Jane's hips buck and heave, and heard her gasp with excitement. There could be no doubt at all of the fact that she was really coming hard.
As she came, she pressed the cat as close to her as she could, so that she could enjoy his furry warmth as well as the virile energy of his spewing cock.
All this time, while I had been engaging in sex with Killer and Pudding, I had felt pretty bad about it, but I had consoled myself with the thought that maybe the only reason that I got it off on animals was that I simply didn't have any other partner. The other boys in my class were either jerks or they just didn't have the nerve to ask me to fuck. I went to the movies and to pizza parlors and places like that with them, but there was never much action. One of them actually put his hand on my right tit, and believe it or not, I could feel the hand tremble. Not with excitement. With fear.
When a boy finally did ask me out who seemed like he might be a bit more aggressive, I was almost afraid to accept for fear that I would find when put to the test that I really did prefer animals to humans after all.
The boy in question was Greg P. He was an eleventh grader, and he had kind of a reputation around the school as a cocksman. It was said that if a girl didn't want to have sex with him, she'd better not accept a date from him, since he had a smooth-tongued line of bullshit that would get through the most determined feminine resistance.
Well, I wasn't interested in putting up any of the latter, so I figured that maybe things would really go well between us.
Despite the fact that he had a reputation as a pretty aggressive character, Greg wasn't really a bad sort of guy. He knew what he wanted, that was all.
We wound up back at his place, which was pretty much what I had expected, and it wasn't long before his hands were on my tits. The difference between this time and the time I described with that other boy was immense. Not only did Greg's hands not tremble with nervousness, but there was something supremely self-confident about them. They had obviously been on plenty of tits in their time, obviously figured that that was a natural place to be, and were prepared to give plenty of pleasure.
I put up a very token kind of resistance, more for the sake of his ego than anything else, and it wasn't more than a minute after Greg had put his hands on my tits that he had my sweater and bra off and was giving my globes a direct feel.
His hands really knew how to work tit, too. He would gently caress the nipples until they swelled up to about three times their normal size. He trailed his fingers across the surface of the tits, and sort of moved the globes around in lazy circles.
Although he was obviously a guy who really enjoyed handling breasts, that certainly didn't mean that he wasn't pretty good with other parts of the female body. He moved his right hand down to my crotch, and after pulling my soggy panties away, began giving me an absolutely delicious feel down there.
"You want it, don't you?" he said in that smooth voice of his to which it was impossible to give a no answer.
I just nodded my head.
He got on top of me and slid his penis inside my body. Then, he started bucking away.
It was as much as a minute perhaps before I realized that something was very badly wrong. His cock was providing nice sensations to my cunt, there could be no doubt about that, but it wasn't really getting me worked up to a come. The in-and-out was pleasant, but there wasn't that gradually mounting crescendo of excitement that I had come to expect from my fucks with Killer, or for that matter, from the hand jobs that I'd been giving myself since puberty.
I gave a little shiver of anxiety. This was just exactly the sort of thing that I had been afraid of. By screwing around with the dog, I had spoiled myself for human sex. I didn't know how I had done it, but I had.
I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. Surely, if I gave little counterthrusts with my hips and tensed the muscles in my legs, like I sometimes did when I beat off, that would help.
No dice. And from the pace with which Greg was laying it into me, I could guess that he wasn't far from his come. He wasn't a bad guy, and the fact that I wasn't getting turned on certainly wasn't his fault, so I figured that I had better fake it.
I did a convincing enough job, I guess, gasping and groaning and moaning, and clutching at his prick with my cunt. But as far as I was concerned, there wasn't anything. I was frigid.
Frigid! What a horrible word. And what a horrible way to be!
"Did you have a good time?" I heard Greg ask.
"Sure. Fine." I said, and I smiled as I said it. I would have preferred to cry.
He went and got some drinks for us, and we sat on the sofa and chatted for a while. Then he asked me if I would like to have him lick my cunt.
I hoped that maybe things would go better with oral sex, so I agreed. He knelt down in front of me and pressed his face against my cunt. Then his tongue went darting rapidly out to tease and caress my labia and my clit.
But the same thing happened that happened when he had his prick inside me. There was a definite initial stimulation, but this never got any farther, never developed into anything. The feeling of his tongue on my tender female parts was nice, but I just couldn't get worked up enough to come.
He was slurping and slurping away, and I suddenly realized that unless I pretended to come again, he might go on licking until his tongue was exhausted. I went through the same sort of motions that I had during the fuck. He got something out of it, at any rate, since even though he wasn't able to make my pussy come, it did secrete a fair amount of cunt-dringle.
After that, he wanted me to suck his prick. Normally, I would have thought that really nice, but now I was so heartbroken that the only thing I could do was just work away on him mechanically until he came.
I went running up to my room when I got home, threw myself on my bed, and then just cried and cried and cried. While I was crying, I heard a scratching on the door. It was Killer. I let him in, and decided to fuck with him to see if I would be frigid with him too. In a way, I almost hoped that I was. After all being completely frigid seems a lot less kinky than just being able to get it off with dogs.
But in fact, as his cock slid back and forth inside me, I noticed just the phenomenon that had been missing when I had been fucking with Greg. The level of excitement built up and up, and soon I found my body writhing with frantic come-need, until at last the bubble burst, and my pussy let loose with the orgasm that it had been trying to have all night. It clutched desperately at the big cock, which unloaded itself into it in good, hard spurts.
As soon as the come subsided, though, I found myself crying again, about the weird situation that I had gotten myself into, and the fact that I would apparently only be able to enjoy sex when I had it with animals!
The trouble with socially unconventional sexual behavior is not that it is in some way "wrong" in and of itself, but the fact that society regards it as such can cause enormous emotional problems for the person who finds him or herself engaging in it. Penny W.'s case is an almost perfect illustration of this fact.
Her initial sexual involvement with animals stemmed from a combination of sexual desire, curiosity, and the wish to behave in a grown-up way. We have seen these factors at work before, namely in the case of Suzanne T. However, where Suzanne T. was an essentially insecure person, there is every reason to believe that Penny W.'s personality was essentially a well-adjusted one at the time she first began having sex with her Doberman, Killer. The layman may find it difficult to accept the possibility of someone with a well-adjusted personality getting sexually involved with a dog, but that is simply because of his own prejudices. The phenomenon of two young teenage girls discussing sex and getting drawn into sexual experimentation is an extremely common one. Sometimes, this experimentation is lesbian in nature. In this case, it involved bestiality.
If it were not for the fact that society regards bestiality as essentially depraved, there would have been nothing to prevent Penny from moving on from involvement with animals to involvement with boys. As was true with Suzanne T., the boys would have eventually caught up with her in terms of sexual aggressiveness and maturity. But right from the beginning of her involvement with Killer, Penny felt strong feelings of guilt. They were suppressed during the actual sexual relations, as one would expect, but manifested themselves afterwards, once the excitement had died down.
And, it should be noticed, they got increasingly intensive as time went by. At first, the thrill of actually engaging in sex was such that she was able to push her scruples under the rug fairly easily. But as the newness wore off, the feelings of guilt were increasingly able to make themselves felt.
The fear that she might not be able to successfully engage in sex with a boy, as opposed to a dog or cat, was a direct manifestation of these feelings of guilt. Inwardly, because she had violated a social taboo, she felt that she was not worthy of any boy. The frigidity was a punishment which she subconsciously inflicted upon herself for her deviation from the sexual norm.
Because an ability to "perform" sexually is something which our culture places a high value on, sexual dysfunctions are apt to perpetuate themselves through the individual's very fear of their recurrence. The man who for some perhaps perfectly unimportant reason such as drunkenness is unable to get an erection may find that henceforth he will be impotent because he is afraid, he will be. In a sense, sex is one of those things where the harder you try, the less-likely you are to achieve success. The more Penny feared that she was not going to be able to have an orgasm with Greg, the more un-likely it was that she would be able to do so.
Clearly, my job as therapist in this case was twofold. I had to eliminate the irrational guilt which Penny W. felt about the sexual relations she had been having with animals, and I had to enable her to again be able to have orgasms with human males. Obviously, there was a lot of overlap between these two tasks. As long as she felt guilty and had a subconscious desire to punish herself by frigidity, she would never be able to have an orgasm. But because of the importance of the fear-of-failure factor that I mentioned above, removing the guilt would not be enough by itself. It would be perfectly possible for her guilt as regards bestiality to be eliminated, but for her to still be unable to achieve orgasm with a boy because, having failed once, she would fear failure on all future occasions of intercourse, and would be unable to achieve the state of confidence necessary for orgasm.
The removal of the guilt was, however, of necessity my first task, and this I was eventually able to do by repeatedly emphasizing to her the relative nature or moral codes and the fact that her sexual exploration was not nearly as unusual as she seemed to think.
As for the actual fear of failure, I would have liked to send her to a sex clinic, where through actual practice individuals are often able to overcome sexual dysfunction. But her limited means prohibited this (she was absolutely adamant about wanting to keep her parents in the dark about her problem), and for legal reasons, no sex clinic would take on a minor without parental consent.
As her guilt disappeared, though, she found herself increasingly willing to accept invitations from boys, and as time passed, the boys in her age group grew older and more adventurous. She finally found a boy who seemed very understanding and considerate, and whom she liked a good deal. On my advice, she confided her orgasm problem to him, which meant that when they had sex, she did not feel obligated to go through the frustrating business of pretending to have an orgasm. With that psychological pressure removed, she was already much more-likely to reach climax, and through patience and understanding her boyfriend was finally able to bring her to orgasm, almost when she least expected it. Her mental block belonged to the category of those which, once overcome, usually do not cause any more trouble. As for sex with dogs, although she no longer regarded it as "wrong", her guilt on the subject having been removed, she found that it was a poor substitute for sex with a boy she really cared about, and so lost interest in it.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
Christine Y. was a good-looking blonde of sixteen who had gotten her parents to agree to pay for therapy by telling them that she suffered from nightmares. In fact, that was just a cover story. Her real problem was a good deal more intimate than that.
"The thing is, doctor," she said to me, "that I've gotten into this funny situation, and the more I think about it, the more and more worried I became. I mean, it really seems pretty sick. So I thought that maybe I should come and see someone like you so as to get a professional opinion on where my head is at."
"What exactly is this situation?" I asked.
"I fuck with dogs." "Regularly?"
"Just about every day. That's pretty kinky, isn't it?"
"I've certainly met plenty of other females who have sex with dogs, and those who do usually do so quite frequently. But maybe you'd like to tell me all about it."
She paused a moment, took a deep breath, and then began her story....
I'm really quite fond of clothes, and as you know, clothes are pretty expensive. My parents are really generous people, but there's a limit to how much I can put the tap on them. Besides, it's a nice feeling to know that you can take care of yourself. So, I've been doing various sorts of odd jobs ever since I was a fairly little girl.
I started out with babysitting, of course, but I don't get on all that well with kids, and besides, I wanted to find something that would pay a bit better per hour.
Finally, I hit on the idea of starting a dog-walking service. It may seem funny that there are people who are willing to pay more to have their dogs looked after than other people are to have someone watch over their children, but that's the way it is. There are lots of lonely, rich old people for whom their dogs are almost their only friends. But because they're lazy, or unable to move about much, they have trouble walking the things. So, that's where I come in.
I got my start in the business through an aunt who's pretty well connected socially. She needed someone to take her poodle for a walk twice a week (she could take care of it the other days), and she paid me to do it. And she recommended me to her friends, so soon I had almost more business than I can handle.
Of course, the reason you can really clean up compared to babysitting is that you can only sit for one family at a time. But with dogs, there's nothing to prevent you from taking seven or eight of them for a walk at the same time, as long as they aren't all great big animals. Usually, rich old ladies prefer something fairly compact, like a toy poodle, or a schnauzer, or something like that, so even if there is one husky or German shepherd or something like that in the bunch, it isn't any problem for me to keep the dogs in control.
Now, at the time that the bestiality business got going, I had been walking dogs for about a year, and I had had this particular boyfriend named Bill for about six months. I thought that he was a really neat guy, which shows just how dumb I can be sometimes. There isn't anything that I wouldn't have done for him, and of course, that included sex. In fact, I have a really hot little box, and I liked to have Bill bang it on every possible occasion.
One evening, I had dropped by his place on Saturday. I was supposed to pick up my dogs in about three quarters of an hour, but that meant that I could easily fit in a fuck.
Bill was every bit as eager to take advantage of the time as I was, and it wasn't long before he had my blouse and bra off, and was kissing my tits.
One thing about Bill: he certainly does know how to kiss tit. He had a way of running his lips lightly over the surface of my breasts that used to drive me wild. He also had a neat way of kind of sucking on the breast, too, with his lips. Not just on the nipple, which is a pretty obvious sort of place to suck, but elsewhere too, including the underside of the breast, where it turns back to the body. Until Bill showed me, I had never realized what a sensitive part of the body that was.
He gave a whole series of long loving kisses there that day, while reaching his right hand up under my skirt to get at my panties, which were already pretty wet with excitement. It goes without saying that they got a good deal wetter as I felt him press his fingers through the thin fabric apd against the tender labia. My hips were giving little shuddering motions as he gently flicked the clit, too, with his thumb.
Bill liked to progress gradually in sex, so it was only after all this had been going on for some time that he pulled the panties down so as to permit direct contact between his fingers and my steamy pussy.
After he did get the clinging garment away, he wormed his fingers up into my hole. The feeling of him poking around inside me like that was delicious, and even nicer was the certainty that it wouldn't be too long until his fingers were replaced there by his fine, hard cock!
I was writhing around on the couch in excitement, and though I had my hand on the crotch of his pants, he still seemed to be a lot cooler than I. I pulled the zipper down, and let the cock punch out against the white fabric of the underpants. Then I pulled the underpants down, and the massive rod bobbed into freedom, expanding as it went.
Now that I was able to get directly at his cock, he seemed to get a lot more worked up, even though I think it was kind of a pose that he liked, to always seem blas', even at moments when anyone else would have been overwhelmed with passion.
"Put it in me! Put it in me!" I groaned. My aching nipples and clit and my soggy pussy just couldn't put up with very much more of this delightful but frustrating stimulation. I just had to have a come, and that was all there was to that.
It seemed for some reason that Bill would always wait until I really called out for his prick so that it would seem almost as if he were doing me some kind of a favor, though maybe I'm imagining things. At any rate, he was willing to comply with my request.
"Why don't we do it dog-style," he said.
That was fine by me. Quite aside from the fact that he had felt me up to such a fever-pitch that literally any position would have been fine by me, the truth of the matter was that I always enjoyed being taken from behind like that. (You must understand that at this point the only experience that I had ever had with the "dog-style" fuck had involved humans.)
I got onto my hands and knees, and he positioned himself behind me He took my waist in his hands and squeezed it. Then, he moved his prick on into my vagina.
Whatever other faults Bill may or may not have, he doesn't have a small penis, that's for sure. In fact, the thing is so big, that it was a good thing that when we were going together that I am a very wet sort of girl who lubricates up really rapidly. Otherwise, we would have had a pretty hard time of it.
He eased his prick into me slowly, and then, after waiting for a moment, pulled it out again.
I guess being a tease is part of Bill's nature, because there was really something maddening about the way he pulled his cock out. Something about his motions, about the slow, determined way in which he pulled his rod back, seemed to indicate that he was going to take his cock all the way out of me. I think that I would have died of the frustration if he had done any such thing.
Finally, when only the hard knob on the end was inside me, he said, "shall I?" He didn't specify what it was that he was considering, but I was so afraid that he might remove his cock and leave me high and dry that I said, "please, Bill, don't fool around. Just let me have that prick of yours."
He paused a second longer, and then shoved on in again. Then, he started to slide his cock regularly back and forth.
It was a wonderful relief to know that he was not going to leave me unsatisfied (he did that once, when he was mad at me) and I started to really enjoy the fuck.
In ... out ... in ... out.... And all the while, he was using his hands very skillfully on my tits, as he cupped and fondled the things, rubbed them together, rubbed them against each other, pinched the nipples, and did all sorts of nice things to them.
I was pretty worked up already when he had started the fuck, so you can imagine the state that I was in after just a few minutes of the old in-and-out. That cock of his was pulling my labia across my clit in the most tantalizing way imaginable every time it thrust in or pulled out, and I wasn't at all sure how much longer my clit could take the attention. I was very tense already, and breathing in very slow, labored gasps.
Buck! Buck! Buck! Buck! He had really picked up a lot of speed by now, and slammed his tool hard inside me. I was trembling now, every single muscle in my body was trembling, and still he rode me. He had a very good technique when it came to keeping me right on the edge of my orgasm but not letting me go over.
Then, all of a sudden, he pulled back fast and slammed home even faster. He really sort of took me by surprise. One instant, I was all charged up, it is true, but thought that the fuck still had a way to go. The next instant, I was coming furiously, with my pussy clutching hard as his spasming rod.
Gush! Gush! Gush! His cock was shooting gob after gob after gob of boycream into me, and my cunt was responding in kind of clutching desperately at his whanger while my hips heaved and shuddered and bucked. "Uh! Uh! UHHHHH!"
Cunt, cunt, CUNT! Female organ clutching, quivering, feeling!
At last we were done, and he pulled his rod out of me. I got weakly to my feet.
"You know, that was quite a fuck," I said.
"I always try to please," he replied.
It was getting time for me to pick up the dogs. I always give the owners a specific time that I'll be by. Since most of the owners live in the same part of town, it doesn't take me more than about a half hour to collect them at most. I drop them off in order, too.
As I said goodbye to Bill, I thought for the umpteenth time what a lucky girl I was. I mean, it was true that at times he seemed maybe a tiny bit arrogant, but that didn't matter too much. After all, he was such a great guy that he had a right to be a little bit stuck-up, or so it seemed to me at the time.
And best of all, he seemed to really keep his word about going steady with me. I had never heard any rumors at school about him messing around with other chicks.
I got all the way to the lobby of his apartment building when I realized that I had left my handbag in his place. I went back, and was about to knock on the door when I heard his voice. He was on the telephone, and it was obvious that he was talking to another girl. He was telling her that he was going to pick her up at seven that evening to go to the movies.
I just about exploded when I heard that. I had wanted to go out with him tonight, and as I took going steady seriously, when he said that he wouldn't be able to make it because he had a lot of back schoolwork to get through, that meant that I would just have to spend Saturday night sitting around home by myself.
Now I had discovered that the creep simply wanted to two-time me with some chick named Carol.
I was tempted to bang on the door and have the whole thing out with him right then and there, but I decided not to. He's a really smooth-talking bastard, and I was afraid that if I demanded an explanation, he'd give me one so convincing that I'd forgive him. I knew what I had heard, and I didn't plan on being tricked.
Besides, it was getting late, and I didn't want to get in trouble with my clients. I hurried off to pick up the mutts.
When I had them all collected, I took them to the park. There was a German shepherd, a full-size poodle, und a whole raft of smaller dogs.
I was so unhappy about the thing with Bill that I could hardly think straight. I wanted to burst into tears. The only reason I didn't let myself was that I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself.
After the time the dog's owners had paid for was up, I dropped the animals off one by one. When I was down to two, a chihuahua named Senor Gomez and a poodle named Saint-Estephe (his owner's a wine nut), I had to go by my apartment building to get to where they lived.
Senor Gomez is a spunky little dog, but of course he has to work pretty hard to keep up with the others, since he's so little. I saw that his tongue was hanging out, and he looked pretty wilted. I could guess that he would really like a drink of water.
There wasn't a puddle in sight that he could drink from, so I thought that I would take him up to my place. I had a bit of time to kill anyway, since his owner had told me that she would be back a little late today, and obviously I couldn't just leave the little fellow tied to the doorknob of her apartment, shitting all over the expensive hall carpet.
He drank the water thirstily, and Saint-Estephe was pretty glad to get some too, though he's so arrogant a dog that he certainly would never dream of being grateful for a favor.
"Men!" I said, thinking about my two-timing boyfriend. "They think they're such hot shits, just cause they have cocks. Well, there are plenty of cocks in the world, Bill!"
In fact, the two dogs were both male, I noticed.
"I bet these dogs are better cocksmen than you are, you turd," I said, still mentally addressing Bill.
Senor Gomez was standing on the kitchen counter, where I had put the water dish, and I was petting him. There's something nice about Chihuahuas, with their smooth coats and their little, delicate bodies.
After making that remark about how I imagined that the dogs were better with their cocks than Bill was, I suddenly reached out and started to fondle the little dog's cock. I don't for the life of me know why I did it. It was really a sudden inspiration. But be that as it may, it was something that Senor Gomez obviously liked. He gave a little yap of pleasure, and I could feel his little prick slide out of its sheath.
Little is the operative word, too. After all, Chihuahuas are very tiny dogs, and everything is scaled accordingly. I was curious about his prick, and as I stared at it, I felt a bit like Gulliver with the Lilliputians.
"I wonder what the size of the other one's is," I said to myself. Somehow, the idea of comparing the two penises for size struck me as very funny. Sort of like the way they measure women's tits for beauty contests, only in reverse.
I felt quite excited sexually during all this, but I didn't yet have any clear idea that I was going to do anything like have sex with the dogs.
I picked Saint-Estephe up and put him on the counter next to Senor Gomez. He took quite a bit of picking, since full-sized poodles are big dogs, but I was helped by the fact that he's really lazy, and didn't put up any kind of a fuss. It was definitely a two-handed job, nevertheless.
I rubbed his prick sheath, and of course, the thing came sliding out into the open. I laughed as I noticed how much bigger it was than Senor Gomez's.
The whole nutty game I had gotten into really fascinated me. Now that I could compare the size of the two pricks (and now that I had two very excited dogs on my hands) I was starting to wonder just how much sperm there was in the balls of each one. Would it be proportional to the varying size of their pricks?
There was only one way to find out. I reached one hand out and started to play with Senor Gomez's cock, while the other one began to fondle Saint-Estephe's meat. By this time, my clit was really hard, and my panties were soaking wet. I guess the real reason that I was doing all this was because I had gotten incredibly turned on by the sight of those two hard dicks, even though one of them was pretty small. But I hadn't admitted to myself yet that that was the reason.
As I worked the two dog-pricks with my hands, I sort of regretted that I didn't have a third hand with which I could take care of my cunt. Well, after I was finished with the two dogs, I knew just exactly the kind of attention that my twat was going to receive.
I wanted to see if I could get the two dogs to come at about the same time. Since I had beaten Bill off on various occasions, and also knew what his cock felt like when it went off in my cunt, I was able to easily "read" the two dogs in the sense of judging from their state of stiffness and from the sound of the animals' breathing just how close to their comes they were.
It was sort of odd having such disparate pricks in my hands. The big poodle's must have been at least five times the size of Senor Gomez's.
Back-forth-back-forth.... I rubbed and stroked the cocks with a fast, steady motion.
I could tell that the little dog was just about to come, so I eased up on his rod a bit, in order to give Saint-Estephe a chance to catch up.
When I was sure that the poodle was about to come, I stepped up the effort I was expending on the Chihuahua's cock.
Suddenly, I felt Saint-Estephe's cock quiver and tremble with the force of its come, as gob after gob of sperm shot out onto the kitchen counter and onto my hand.
Senor Gomez wasn't far behind in sending his wad shooting out of his diminutive little dork. For such a little dog, he had quite a lot of sperm. In fact, I would say that proportionally he had more of the stuff than the poodle did.
As soon as the dogs had stopped, I pulled down my jeans and placed my right hand on my crotch. The other hand went straight to my tits. I was so steaming hot that I couldn't wait another second, couldn't wait long enough to get into the bedroom or even to get down on the kitchen floor. I was going to beat off right then and there, standing with my back against the refrigerator.
One advantage of the position I was in was that I could still look at the dogs. Their penises were sliding back into their sheaths, but there were still long threads of spunk hanging from the tips of them, and I could see the pools of spunk there on the counter.
I pressed my fingers hard against my labia, while working the thumb up into my hole, where I pushed it against now one side of my twat, now the other. Then, while I pulled on my nipple with the other hand, I started to rub my thumb against my clit, after pulling the thumb out of my vagina.
For a moment it seemed as if my mind was going blank, and then suddenly my come just burst inside me like a landmine going off.
Wham! Wham! Wham! My pelvis bucked and heaved frantically, and I kept my hand glued to it frantically, despite the fact that my twat was now so sensitive that it could hardly bear to be touched.
Even as my cunt seemed to go up like an ammunition dump, I continued to rub my thumb against my agonized clit.
"Coming! Coming! Coming!" I gasped.
And then ... that ... was ... it....
The orgasm had been so powerful that I almost had to blink for a moment to remember where I was. Yes, this was my parents' kitchen, and these were a couple of dogs that I had to get back to their owners. Maybe because I didn't want to think about the implications of the act I had just engaged in with them, I concentrated my thoughts on how I had better hurry if I didn't want to return the dogs late.
I pulled my jeans back on, and led the dogs to the elevator. From there, it wasn't all that far to the owners' apartments.
"My, Saint-Estephe seems tired," his mistress said. "I suppose you must have given him a good workout"
"Oh yes," I said. "I like to earn my pay."
"I hope he's not too tired out."
"Oh, it's good for dogs to get plenty of exercise. Especially city dogs."
"Yes, I've heard that that's so," the old lady agreed.
On the way back to my apartment, though I didn't have anything to occupy my mind, and I couldn't help thinking about how I had just beaten off two dogs, and gotten thoroughly excited in the process.
On one hand, it seemed more than a little bit sick. But then, there was something very satisfying about it too. I mean, the dice really are loaded against us females. Here Bill, this boy whom I'd really trusted and all, had simply decided to two-time me and had gone out and done so. It's so easy for guys. They're the ones who get to take the initiative and call all the shots. But this time, I was the one who had called the shots, I was the one who had decided that I was going to make the dogs come, and having made that original decision, I was also the person who had determined the exact moment that they would be coming. I had thought that it would be interesting to see if I could get them off simultaneously, so I had gotten them off simultaneously.
Besides, it wasn't as if I had actually fucked with them or anything. It was all just a harmless game. Or so I told myself.
The way it worked out, though, the next day, when I was bringing Saint-Estephe and Senor Gomez back from the walk, the two of them started to get quite agitated as we passed by my apartment building. They obviously remembered the good times that they had had the day before here, and wanted more of the same.
"C'mon, don't be difficult," I said, pulling on the big poodle's leash to try and keep him from going into the lobby. "You shouldn't be pestering me now, just because I decided to be extra nice to you once before."
But the more the dog whined and whimpered and pulled on his leash (Senor Gomez was doing the same sorts of things, but of course they're less noticeable done by a chihuahua), the more I was tempted to reconsider my refusal. After all, I had had a good time with the two dogs the day before, and there wasn't any reason that I shouldn't be able to have a good time with them today, too. My parents wouldn't be back for a long time, so I didn't have to worry about that. There was no getting around the fact that the beat-off I had given myself after feeling the dogs to a come was the best hand-job I had ever given myself in my life. I'm a pretty horny girl, like I told you, Doctor, and now that I'd broken up with that rat Billy, I was starting to get pretty frustrated.
"Okay," I said to the two dogs, "but don't count on this every day." Of course, I really knew that the more I cooperated with them on this, the more-likely they were to kick up a fuss when I tried to cool it with them.
This time, I took them into the living room. It was more comfortable for me to sit on the floor there, than in the kitchen, with its linoleum. And I didn't feature hauling that big, overfed poodle up onto the counter again.
I reached out and took hold of Senor Gomez's prick and started to feel it. This time, I had decided, I was going to go at one dog at a time, so that I wouldn't have to wait to get some action myself, but would be able to beat myself off while enjoying the dog's prick.
As I felt up the little cock, I thought that maybe I could try something else this time. I've always been fairly adventurous when it comes to sex, and since I seemed to be into this sex-with-animals bag for the time being, I thought that I might as well branch out a little.
There was something sort of cute about the Chihuahua's little cock, anyway. Something that that made it seem to just cry out to be kissed.
I picked the little dog up and held him right next to my face. Then, I put my mouth around his penis. Since the penis was so small, I in fact put my mouth around everything-prick, prick-sheath and balls-and sucked on them all at once. I still had plenty of room in my mouth to maneuver my tongue, so that meant that I could give special attention to the penis itself.
The chihuahua was being very good and holding himself very still, so I was able to just rest his paws on my collar-bone and hold him with one hand, while the other hand got busy downstairs.
My clit was already hurting it was so hard and excited, and when I put my fingers down against my labia, they literally slipped around a bit on the pussy-juices, I had lubricated up so much.
In addition to my own breathing and the short little gasps of the Chihuahua, I heard some heavier breathing. That had to be Saint-Estphe. Because the other dog was in my line of sight, I couldn't see what the poodle was doing, but I guessed that the reason he was breathing heavily was that he was watching the action and wondering if he was going to be cut in on it soon. Well, if he'd just be patient, he'd find that he didn't have a thing in the world to worry about on that score.
Suck! Suck! Suck! I was really pulling away with my lips at the base of Senor Gomez's balls, while flicking the shaft of his cock with my tongue. I was giving particular emphasis with the tongue to the very tip of his rod. I knew from my experiences with Bill that guys are extremely sensitive there, and it seemed that the same was true with male dogs.
I was playing a real teasing game with my cunt. I was trailing my fingers very lightly back and forth across my labia, bringing them circling in towards my frantic clit, sometimes, but never, or only very rarely, actually touching it. The result was that the thing got more and more keyed up with every second that went by. I knew that when I wanted to, I would be able to bring myself off almost instantly by just applying a bit of pressure to my clit.
To keep my vagina happy, I was working my thumb around inside it, pressing the thumb against the tender cunt-walls and particularly, right at the entrance to the vagina.
I was already moving my hips rhythmically as I got more and more excited. This wasn't quite as good as having a big hard dork up my cunt, but it was damn close.
I could tell from the way the little Chihuahua was trembling in my hand that he was almost at the point of his come. Just a bit more attention was all that would be needed.
Flick! Flick! Flick! I brushed the tip of his rod with my tongue. I felt the tiny cock give a final little stiffening, and at that moment, I pressed my fingers against my clit.
Bingo! That touch was all that my eager fun-button required after all these tantalizing minutes. At the very instant that Senor Gomez's cock started to fire, I felt my hips buck and heave to the force of my come.
The little dog was sort of jiggled about by me as I writhed in ecstasy, but I had a good grip on him, and his penis felt too good for him to mind anything at the moment.
Squirt! Squirt! Squirt! His cock didn't have very much stuff to shoot, of course, and each gob was pretty small, but he kept on going for quite a while, surprisingly enough.
Chihuahuas are rather quavery little dogs, and after we were finished and I had taken him off my face, he was literally trembling with the excitement of the experience he had been through. That he had thoroughly enjoyed it, however, was perfectly apparent from the eager way in which he licked my hand.
I gulped down his spunk-there wasn't all that much to gulp, but swallowing it was nice anyway-and then turned my attention to the big poodle that was standing nearby.
Saint-Estephe had a massive hard-on, and it was obvious that if I didn't want to regard myself as cruel, I would have to take care of it right away. Previously, I thought in terms of having him maybe licking my cunt or something. But he needed relief right away, and there was no point in my being selfish and pretending that anything else was the case.
There were three ways I could take care of his prick: I could give him a hand-job, I could blow him, or I could let him fuck me.
The first option seemed pretty tame and old-hat, seeing as we had done that the day before. As for blowing him, although it would be interesting perhaps to make a direct comparison that way between his prick and Senor Gomez's, it was really my cunt, not my mouth, that needed attention.
Oh, it was true that I had beaten myself while blowing the Chihuahua, but I'm a pretty multi-orgasmic female, and besides, having one come given by hand like that just made me all the more eager for a real come, that's to say, one caused by the feel of good, hard dick slamming back and forth inside my twat.
So, any moral scruples or doubts that I might have had about the idea of letting a dog stick his penis inside me were just washed away by my cunt's fast-mounting passion. I was going to fuck with the poodle, and that was that.
I got onto my hands and knees and presented my cunt to him. I guess necessity is the mother of invention, or maybe old Mrs. Farrel who owns him has a special use for him, because he didn't hesitate a second. Once he saw that twat of mine, he knew just exactly what it was that I expected him to do.
I felt him put his paws on my ass, then on my back, and finally almost up on my shoulders as he moved in.
His cock poked at my cunt, then found the hole and slid in without any difficulty.
Then, he started to slide it back and forth like he'd been doing this all his life. I had no way of really knowing if he had had any other experiences with women, but at least with bitches he must cut quite a figure. Although there was a certain jerky quality to his fucking, I could tell that that was just something about him being a dog. Don't ask me how I knew, seeing as I had never had sex with another dog. But somehow I did. There was something assured and confident about his fuck too, and I could tell that if there are ladies' men, there are bitches' dogs.
In-out-in-out-in-out. Man, did that ever feel good!
"If dogs are this great, I may never have to put up with another turd like Bill again in my whole life," I thought as I felt the rod slide back and forth against the inside of my cunt, fell it pull my labia against my tingling clit with every thrust.
I had my right hand on my hanging tits and was pressing and squeezing them in time to his thrusts. My body was swaying in time to his thrusts, too. We were in perfect harmony.
Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck. Always that steady, even slamming back-and-forth of his penis. This dog was just driving me straight out of my ever-loving mind.
Fuck me harder! Harder! Harder!" I groaned. In fact, there's no earthly way that any prick, canine or human, could have possibly fucked harder or better than Saint-Estephe was doing at just that moment.
Then, all of sudden, I felt my cunt clutch at his rod. It was an involuntary, unconscious action, and I'm sure that I was as taken by surprise by it as the poodle was. I was coming!
As my cunt gripped at his cock, and my hips started to heave with excitement, I felt his rod start to quiver and unload into me.
Splat! Splat! Splat! As I had noticed the day before, when I had masturbated the two dogs on the kitchen counter, the poodle certainly had a good deal more sperm than the tiny Chihuahua. In fact, Saint-Estephe had a seemingly limitless supply of the stuff, or so it seemed as he unloaded his balls into my cunt.
Finally, he finished shooting, and pulled his rod on out. Even Billy, who was a pretty self-centered guy, would leave his rod in for a while after shooting his load, so that I could enjoy the feeling of it going soft inside me. But Saint-Estephe had had his fun, and that was that
"Oh well," I thought, "I guess that I'd better get the dogs back home, anyway."
That night, I really had a certain amount of trouble going to sleep. I mean, this sudden craving for dogs. had come upon me so suddenly. And that was what it was, too, a craving. I'd only be deceiving myself if I pretended that it was something different. Oh, I had tried to pretend that I was just being nice to the dogs, and so forth, but I knew in my heart that I was very anxious for tomorrow to come so that I could try some more canine sex.
What bothered me most of all was the fact that I didn't find myself all that anxious to find a replacement for Bill. I had had regular boyfriend of some kind or the other since I was thirteen. But now that I had the dogs, I found myself not really all that interested in getting another one.
The following day, I decided to try some different dogs. After all, it didn't seem fair that the same two should always get all the action. This time, I brought them all in from the park early and took them up to the apartment I couldn't fuck all of them, of course, and to keep the ones who weren't chosen from getting too excited, I put them into another room. The reason that I had brought all of them along was that the two I wanted to fuck with this time were among the first I had picked up, and therefore were supposed to be the first I dropped off at their owners. Otherwise, if I had waited until the time was up for all the other dogs, dropped them off, come back to the apartment, fucked my chosen partners, and then taken them home, their owners might wonder where I had been, seeing as they lived quite a distance from where I did, and it would take a while to get there after I was done with the dogs.
This time, I had chosen a husky named Kayak and a St. Bernard named Three-Star, I guess after the three stars that go on some kinds of brandy.
A St. Bernard is a really big dog, of course, but I figured, or rather hoped, that his cock wouldn't be any bigger than a guy's cock. I planned to let Three-Star fuck me while I blew the husky. That would save time, of course, and besides, I figured that it would be kind of neat to take care of two dogs at once.
I presented my cunt to the St. Bernard in the same way that I had to Saint-Estephe the day before, but Three-Star didn't seem to get the idea. Of course, that wasn't really too surprising. Saint-Estephe had already had the experience of being beaten off by me, and he had watched me suck Senor Gomez's dick. In other words, I had given him a good chance to figure out the fact that dogs and women can have some pretty good times together. But though he may have conceivably fucked female dogs, poor old Three-Star had never come across anything remotely resembling a sixteen-year old girl in the presentation position.
"Well, dog," I said, "there's a first time for everything."
I took hold of his forepaws to lift them up onto my ass. Of course, a St. Bernard is pretty heavy, but dogs seem to have a built-in tendency to go up on their hindquarters if you lift their paws. You've seen people do it a million times, I bet. So Three-Star did most of the work. As soon as his paws were resting on my ass, he sort of got the idea. I moved the paws a little farther up my back (that was a bit tricky, since there's a limit to how flexible your arms are). When they were half way up my back, the dog finally caught on and shuffled up closer to me. Maybe St. Bernards are dumb, since he still couldn't find my cunt. I reached behind myself and took hold of his rod, which was at least out of its sheath, and guided the tip of it into my cunt.
At long last, Three-Star got the whole picture, and he shoved on in. His prick was very big, almost as big as a guy's, but of course, I wasn't about to complain about that.
While all these rather tiresome preparations were going on with the Saint Bernard, Kayak, the husky, had kind of wandered off a bit. Fortunately, though, the end of his leash was still within reach, so I was able to bring him back. At last, and with the big St. Bernard already sliding his cock back and forth inside me, I was able to get Kayak positioned, and moved my head under his belly.
His cock was still enclosed in its furry pouch, but a few kisses and licks on the latter object were able to take care of that problem in short order. As soon as the pink tip of the rod appeared, I started nibbling away on it with my lips, and of course that caused the rest of the penis to glide into my mouth almost at once.
Now, at last, like someone who has had to go to a lot of trouble to draw a warm bath, but can at last relax in it, I was able to enjoy the sensation of having two dog-pricks in me at once: a St. Bernard's cock in my cunt, and a husky's in my mouth.
Back! Forth! Back! Forth! The St. Bernard's thrusts were slower than the poodle's had been, but they were still quite different from a guy's, though. One thing about them was certain, though: they were very satisfying.
Kayak's prick in my mouth was just about as nice. Super rigid, and judging from the size of the balls that were dangling in front of me,-likely to shoot plenty of spunk out into my mouth.
I slid my mouth up and down the length of the penis a few times, and then, to vary the action, I took my mouth off of it for a second and sort of nibbled at the side of it with my lips like you might nibble at an ear of corn.
I would have liked to use one of my hands to feel up my tits, or maybe fondle Kayak's balls a bit, but that was impossible. The St. Bernard was too .heavy for me to possibly be able to support myself on one hand now that he was resting on my back.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Old Three-Star might have been a bit slow off the mark when it came to sizing up new sexual opportunities, but one thing was certain: once he got going, he was really something else. Those thrusts of his long, hard penis deep, deep into my cunt were as fine as any girl could possibly wish for.
There was a sort of nervous quiver to Kayak's prick every time I sucked on it (I had my mouth back over the end of it, by this time), and that seemed to indicate that he wasn't far from his come at all. I stopped applying quite so much pressure, since I didn't want him to come before Three-Star and I did.
Then, I felt the same kind of quivering in Three-Star's cock. I went full force on the husky's, and there was only about half a second between the first gob of dog-come that spattered against the back of my mouth and the first gob that the big St. Bernard sent gushing up into my innermost feminine recesses!
The two dogs were blasting away like crazy, and I was right in the middle, a target to their wild, orgasmic frenzy. They were pumping and pumping and pumping, filling me up, and I was just loving it. My cunt shuddered with delight as my female tension unwound all at once, in a frantic come! Come! Come!
As soon as he had finished, the St. Bernard pulled his rod out of me, just like Saint-Estephe had done. That obviously a canine trait. I sucked on Kayak's dick a while longer, then let it go. I got to my feet, with come in my cunt and come in my mouth. A lot of the dog cream from the St. Bernard dribbled down my thighs after I stood up, the animal had given me so much. I sloshed the husky's sperm around in my mouth a bit, then drank it down. Another session of dog-sex was finished, and it was time to take the mutts home.
Whenever I finished one of these sessions I felt a bit let down, and sort of guilty, too, I suppose, but not tremendously. And like I said, the more I got into this dog-sex bit, the less interested I was in finding another boyfriend.
There was one guy at school, though, who was pretty interested in me, and I finally decided to go out with him. I guess you know what going out means with teenagers nowadays. Well, I didn't have any objections.
We went to a movie, and then ended up at my place. His parents were home, and mine were out for the evening. I couldn't help smiling as I looked at the floor and though how surprised and shocked Rick would be if I told him the things that I had been up to with dogs on that floor.
He made his play, of course, and I don't want to give the idea that there was anything offensive about the way in which he did it. In fact, as he put his hands on my tits, I was reminded of Billy. Maybe that was what was wrong. Billy was not a very pleasant memory for me.
He took my blouse and bra off, and started kissing my tits. He was good at it, just like Billy. Well, resentment against Billy or not, tit-kissing is always nice. I felt my clit stiffen up with excitement, and my nipples stiffened under the pressure of his lips.
He had my panties off by now, and without more ado, slipped his cock into my vagina. I would have sort have liked to have some say in the matter, but I guess it wasn't unreasonable of him to suppose that I wanted his prick, seeing as I had let him take off my panties and fondle my tits.
He had all the right moves, and soon I was moving my hips in little counter thrusts, and feeling my cunt clutch hungrily at his prick. Physically, this was all very nice, and I was beginning to think that maybe the preference for dogs that I had been feeling was just a passing phase, and a good fuck with this guy would straighten me out in that department.
In ... out ... in ... out ... in ... out....
"You like it, baby?" he asked. Something in his tone of voice indicated that he couldn't imagine for a second that I might not like it, and I had to admit that being taken for granted like that sort of pissed me off.
But that rod of his was doing its stuff down below my waist, and I was already gasping and panting for a come.
Cock! Cunt! Cock! Cunt!
Almost there ... almost. . . almost....
Then ... I ... was ... coming!
The fuck-spasms raced through me one after another, and my hips bucked under him with excitement. My cunt clutched desperately at his penis, which shot its load up into me in good, hard strokes.
I had come, and from a purely physical standpoint, it had been a good come. That was the problem. Emotionally, I felt really let down, almost abused, despite the fact that he hadn't done anything but give me pleasure---And though he's asked for dates since, I've always turned him down. I just know that I prefer to be with my dogs. But like I said at the beginning of the session, that seems so sort of odd to me that I thought I had better get some professional advice before I go off any farther on this tangent.
There could be no doubt in my mind that Christine Y.'s experience with Billy had played an important part in turning her towards animal sex. What was not immediately clear, however, was whether the trauma involved stemmed essentially from the sense of being betrayed and abused that she felt on learning of his involvement with another girl, or whether it had simply served to trigger other feelings buried deep in the subconscious.
I suspected the latter was the case, since although the knowledge that one is being two-timed is, of course, painful, most people are able to rise above it more successfully than Christine was.
Subsequent interviews showed that I was right. What was involved was a latent fear of and hostility towards men. Christine's sexual orientation was certainly heterosexual, but various aspects of her personality made it difficult for her to feel comfortable with men as people, despite the fact that she craved the physical satisfaction that they could give her. It is not, therefore surprising that she turned to male dogs, which she could relate to on a purely physical level.
Her basic problem with men was that she resented their dominance and control. In an age of women's liberation this is not strange, though in her case this resentment was allied to very strong (and very strongly repressed) Electra desires towards her father.
When Bill two-timed her, his action confirmed her suspicions of men and increased her feelings of helplessness in regard to them. She had trusted Bill, at least on the level of surface consciousness, and his response had been to show that although she needed him, he certainly need her.
The sexual involvement with the dogs was a sort of retort on her part. In that first incident, when she simultaneously manipulated the two dogs to orgasm, she was saying, among other things, "yours isn't the only penis in the world. See, I have two of them at once to play with."
The fact that the penises belonged to dogs in fact made this "retort" even more satisfactory to her. "I have tow penises to play with, and the fact that they belong to dogs is unimportant, because penises are all a-like." That was her symbolic message. The male's (envied) organ is a dime a dozen, and isn't even really human in nature.
One of the features of canine sex that most appealed to her was, of course, that when animals are your partners, you are completely in charge. Whereas Bill had literally made her beg for his penis, she selected at whim from among her stud of dogs, and decided how each one is to perform and how much pleasure each one is to have. The fact that she tried in fact to give the dogs a good time does not in any way alter the fact that for her, the most fundamental feature of the situation was her total and unquestioned control.
Human emotions are nothing if not ambivalent, however, and it is interesting to note how, when she was receiving semen in the mouth and vagina simultaneously from two dogs, she enjoyed being the "target". And the very fact that she sought out therapy is an indication of how in some respects uncomfortable she is in her role of sexual dominance.
It is interesting to compare her experience with Rick to that which Penny W. had with Greg. The latter girl, as the reader will remember, was actually frigid with the human partner she tried. Christine Y., on the other hand, was able to obtain physical satisfaction with Rick, but was left emotionally unsatisfied. One reason that she did not suffer the same sexual disability which struck Penny W. was precisely that she was inwardly less committed to the idea of a human sexual partner. Penny W.'s traumatic experience was the very act of bestiality, because of society's strong condemnation of it. The kind of sexual experience which she desired was one involving a boy. The trauma made her feel unworthy of the boy, and because she so wanted to move on to conventional sexual relations, her fear at possibly being unable to do so was much greater. Christine Y., on the other hand, had already experienced sex with a male of her own species, and had many reservations about it. Since the animal sex was a form of revenge, she felt little guilt about it, and since she was inwardly unsure as to what boy-girl sex could offer her, she was less anxious about the possibility of her not being able to successfully engage in it. When she had sex with Rick, her anxiety level was much lower than that of Penny W. when she was with Greg, and consequently the chances of success were very substantially higher.
It was obvious that Christine Y. was not happy with her situation, however. As she said, it made her feel "sick", and from a long-term standpoint offer only limited satisfactions. As I pointed out to her, she did indeed have the option of continuing with things the way they were, and would doubtless continue to receive physical satisfaction from the dogs. But she would never be able to have the kind of emotional satisfaction that other females get from their dealings with men. Partly because an animal cannot relate to a human with anything like the subtlety that another human can, and partly because her own attitude towards the dogs was essentially negative. They were instruments for her pleasure and revenge. She had no real affection for them. They were just "mutts".
She agreed, and decided to undergo long-term therapy, which ended up concentrating, as I have indicated, on the ambivalent feelings that she had for her father. Once these feelings were brought out into the open and resolved (a process of about three years) a great deal of her hostility towards men vanished. She was willing, to accept that they are not all like Bill, and succeeded in finding a nice boyfriend with whom she could relate successfully. Once she had done this, she found that dogs held little interest for her as sexual partners.
CONCLUSION
There are many insights which a sensitive and intelligent reader can draw from a collection of case histories. I shall only dwell, therefore, on what seem to me the most salient and important points to be gleaned from the accounts given by the five women who are the subjects of this book.
First and foremost is the fact that bestiality, like all forms of so-called deviant behavior, is a very heterogeneous phenomenon. There is no one reason that women engage in sexual relations with animals. There is no one personality type that can be associated with an inclination towards this form of sexual activity. Cindy Mae of the first case was an essentially healthy individual. Christine Y. of the final case was a girl with deep-seated neurotic problems which long antedated her involvement with animal sex. And to one degree or another, important differences are to be found in the psychological makeup of all the females studied here.
-likewise, there is no one specific motivating factor which leads to the first incident of sexual contact with an animal. If Cindy Mae was simply feeling sexually frustrated, Julie V. of the third case wished above all to get revenge on her mother, and Suzanne T. of the second case allowed a dog's penis into her vagina in order to please her boyfriend Bart.
Does this mean that we err in using a term like "bestiality" at all? Is it a term which imposes a wholly false unity in our minds on a subject marked by the utmost diversity? I would say no.
Although the various cases show marked differences, there are important similarities, too. Of these, the most important is physical desire. All of the girls in question were made more receptive to the idea of animal sex by the fact that they were in a state of sexual excitation.-likewise, all of them received physical satisfaction from the animal, though this satisfaction was in many cases followed almost immediately by strong feelings of guilt.
While the amount of guilt felt varied greatly, it is noteworthy that it was present to some degree in all the cases except that of farm-girl Cindy Mae of the first case. It was absent in her case because rural cultural patterns have always emphasized a much freer acceptance of sexual desire than have urban ones.
In all cases where there was some kind of pathological element present, the bestiality was secondary and symptomatic, rather than primary and causal. The girl wanted to get revenge because of feelings of insecurity. Or of hostility towards men. Or she had a pathological need to subordinate her desires to those of her boyfriend. In the particular circumstances each girl was in, this led to bestiality. But in somewhat different circumstances, quite different forms of behavior would have resulted. What if Suzanne T.'s boyfriend had had a hang-up about, say, leather instead of girls and dogs? What if Julie V. had been presented with another, different way of getting revenge on her mother? What if Christine Y. had not decided some time previously to earn money walking dogs? The pathological elements in the personalities would have still been present, but the symptoms would have been quite different.
This point is extremely important, because the therapist must treat the underlying psychological problem rather than its mere manifestations if he wishes to succeed. Otherwise, if the symptoms are simply repressed (which is all that can be done with symptoms qua symptoms), the underlying malady will simply manifest itself in another, equally destructive way.
Certain individual such as Cindy Mae engage in bestiality for reasons that are non-pathological in nature, and thus are not within the scope of a psychologist's duties. But the therapist should always be on the lookout for symptoms of real emotional disturbance, because these are almost always inimical to the patient's happiness. One does not treat bestiality because it is "wrong". One treats whatever prevents the patient from fulfilling herself, and bestiality is often a good clue to this. Having sex with dogs was not making Christine Y. unhappy. But hating men prevented her from hoping for a fully satisfying emotional life, and it was through her sex with dogs that this hatred was made manifest. I acted accordingly, both in recommending that she undergo therapy, and in deciding just what form the therapy should take.
Thus, women who engage in sex with animals are not some special breed of strange and perverse individuals. Rather, they are people just like anyone else, who, like most other people, often have emotional problems. The fact that their symptoms violate an ancient taboo invalidates neither their need for help, nor their right to our understanding and compassion.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Berne, Eric, Sin Human Loving, N.Y., 1970
Bier, Francis, The Adolescent, his Search for Understanding, N.Y., 1963.
Deutsch, Helen, M.D., The Psychology of Women, N.Y., 1949
Fleming, Charlotte, M.D., Adolescence, its Social Psychology, London, 1948
Freud, Sigmund, Totem and Taboo, N.Y., 1932 (trans.)
Freud, Sigmund, Civilization and its Discontaits, N.Y., 1930 (trans.) Freud, Sigmund, The Interpretation of Dreams, N.Y., 1965 (trans.) Horney, Karen, M.D., Feminine Psychology, N.Y., 1967
Karpman, Benjamin, The Sexual Offender and his Offenses, N.Y., 1954
Kinsey, A., Sexual Behavior in the Human F(-male, Philadelphia, 1953
Konopka, G., The Adolescent Girl in Conflict, Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1966
Krafft-Ebing, Freiherr Richard von, I'sycho-pathia Sexnalis, N.Y., 1939 (trans.)
London, L.S., M.D., and Caprio, F., M.D., Sexual Deviations, Washington, 1950
London, L.S., M.D., Sexual Deviations hi the Female, N.Y., 1957
May, Rollo, Love and Will, N.Y., 1969
Piaget, Jean, and Inhelder, Barbel, The Psychology of the Child, N.Y., 1969 (trans.)
Stekel, Wilhelm, Peculiarities of Behavior, N.Y., 1941
Tridon, Andre, Psychoanalysis and Love, N.Y., 1949
Weinberg, Martinis., Deviance, the Inteyactiou-ist Perspective, N.Y., 1969
Note: because the topic of woman-animal sex has been so largely neglected by researchers, and because to understand a specific form of female sexual deviance it is necessary to have a broad understanding of both feminine psychology and the dynamics of deviant behavior, books have been included in the bibliography which deal with the latter two topics rather than the phenomenon of bestiality as such.
