Feature Writer: R. E. Geis
Feature Title:A Donkey Named Peter
Story Codes: Bestiality
A Donkey Named Peter (PART 3 OF 5)
The Kinsey reports tell us that women are known to give cunnilingus to cows and mares, sheep and goats. They fellate donkeys and manage coitus with bulls, stallions, donkeys, and ponies. Not always for “show” purposes, but because they prefer it and like it. Most bestiality on farms is between boys and animals. Dr. Frank Caprio details this in Variations in Sexual Behavior, but “most” means some bestiality is between girls and women and animals. And Dr. Rosenberger, in Bestiality, suggests it is of greater incidence: “It is believed by many medical authorities that the percentage for women is even higher!”
Thus it is not too surprising that an adult woman could or would involve herself sexually with a donkey. Given the circumstances described below by a retired veterinarian it is highly credible. Howie is sixty-five years old and a retired veterinarian. He used to live in a mountain state, in a poor country that was mostly scratch farms and rocks. I met him when I stopped at a local park for a few moments to watch a shuffleboard match. Howie is a garrulous, white-haired, small, portly man who, when I first met him and later when I interviewed him in depth, was wearing violent red suspenders and a wildly colorful Hawaiian shirt … with gray pants and wing-tip brogues … and a straw hat. He was soaking up the sun, peering through sunglasses and talking at anyone who came near. He vented a constant flow of information about himself, about life, about his circumstances, about his former profession, about people and life in general:
‘Well, you know, the grave is the last place anyone expects to end up, even when he’s got one foot in it.”
The bad thing about working with animals is you have to put up with their owners.
“With Social Security I get lots of society but damn little security.”
Howie isn’t very original but he talks fast, he has a pleasant lilt to his slightly nasal voice, and he uses his hands like an orchestra conductor.
After a few minutes of talking about himself, he asked me why I was free in the middle of the afternoon. I told him I was my own boss–a writer … and inevitably I told him my specialty.”
“Things I could tell you if you’re interested … things happen on farms you wouldn’t believe. People and animals are isolated–snowed in–for months on end; some pretty hairy things happen.”
“Yes, air, and not just with the men doing things with cows and sheep and mares and pigs … that’s common. What I mean is the farm women sometimes out there in the mountains without men. Widows … women in their forties sometimes, with a lot of vinegar left in them, they do some strange things to scratch that old sex itch.”
“No one out there, to tell on them, you see. Animals won’t tell. Well, that ain’t true exactly, either. An animal will tell a vet a lot in small ways … there’s ways of telling what’s been goin’ on, to a trained eye. I could tell you …”
Of course I invited him to my place with the understanding I would make a recording of what he said, but would alter names and places, if specific names and places were mentioned, and when they were mentioned.”
That was agreeable to Howie; he loved to talk, and “Talking down-and-dirty about sex–that’s my favorite kind of talk.” I laid in a supply of beer to keep his throat well oiled at his hinted request and he showed up exactly when he said he’d be by.
“I used to laugh my fool head off when a cow or heifer or a mare or filly’d get colic or something and I’d be called out to a farm. If there was a boy on the farm in his teens maybe, or a young hand, and he was hanging around looking worried about the animal and he didn’t own the animal, then right away I knew he’d been dipping it in on the sly and was scared I’d find out some way.”
“You know, sometimes the young ones would be worried sick they’d caused the animal to be sick. Some figured sure as hell the animal was pregnant from him and was goin’ to have a half-man foal or something.”
“But what raised the hair on the back of my neck was when a woman was the one who was worried about a stud animal, worried in a certain way. Hard to describe what I mean. Didn’t come across it too much, but …”
“Well, there was a time like that about thirty years ago during the war. This young woman was stuck on a farm and her husband was off in the Army–in North Africa, I think–and she was just putting in her time, not farming the land. She lived off the allotment checks. That was a hard, lonely life for her with nothing but a radio and a donkey for company.”
“Turned out that donkey … name was Peter, as I remember … turned out that donkey was a lot more than company for her.”
“How I got into it was this way: the animal turned croupy some time in, oh, I guess it was February or so of ’43, and she came in to my office to have me come out to see to it.”
Now I remember this in detail, in vivid detail, what comes later, because it is something you do not see every day or every year or every decade, even. Seeing a pretty woman getting poled by a donkey is a sight to see!”
“Now I got to set this scene for you, so you bear with me now. I liked this woman, let’s just call her Bess since I don’t want to give her, real first name and you don’t want me to anyway.”
“I liked Bess, and I had an idea I might get close to her if she had a yen for it and didn’t mind cheating on her husband a little.”
“Bess was a pretty woman … damned pretty … with long chestnut brown hair hanging straight down, like your hippie girls wear hair now, and Bess kept her hair long and combed shiny. Never saw a speck of dandruff in her hair. And she was tall for a woman, too, about five-nine or so, and solid. Not fat, not chunky or too hippy. She had a figure on her! Curves in the right places. A nice big pair of milkers an her, meat on her bones, but not a bit too much. Fine, shapely woman, oh, about thirty-three years old or so.”
“She had a proud look to her. Kept her head up all the time and looked everybody right square in the eye.”
“You could have knocked me over with a straw when I saw what I saw that day a couple weeks later.”
“Right away I went along to her place–about fifteen miles out–and dosed that animal with some new stuff that was out that was good for the croup. Peter–the donkey–was wheezin’ and coughin’ pretty bad. That was when I got the cold feeling along my neck–the way she stood over him and had to be sure he’d get better. She was in love with that animal, more’n she loved her husband. I could tell. The little barn was neat, clean, everything painted, fresh hay, feed, oh, she was pampering that stud.”
“What made me sick and sure was how clean that animal was. She must have given him shampoos and put perfume on him … for all I know she maybe wiped his asshole after he shit. He was that clean.”
“But what clinched it for me was the way that animal reacted to her. He brayed soft-like, and looked at her–followed her with his eyes everywhere she went in that barn.”
“And if she got close and petted him, stroked his neck like, then that pecker of his started to come out into sight. Slid out like a pink bone, it did.”
“I noticed it and she saw me look and she turned red–just colored up like a girl seeing her first naked man.”
“She stopped touching that animal then. She moved away fast and turned away and went out to the house to get me a drink of something.”
“But I knew. I had the stomach flops for a few minutes, thinking about it.”
“And over in a corner of the barn, maybe twenty feet away, was this narrow little mattress with a blanket sewn around it. Not more than two feet wide and three feet long–it was a baby’s mattress, from a crib. Had to be, now I think on it. Always puzzled me. Now I figure it out thirty years later. The mind of man is a wondrously stupid thing, sometimes.”
“Well, I couldn’t figure at the time what that little mattress was for. When I came back two weeks later without her knowing I’d be visiting … I found out my suspicions were right.”
“What a sight–Bess on her hands and knees on that mattress under that animal, her getting poled with that pink bone like there was no tomorrow!”
“I admit, I admit, there’s a lot of pure dirty curiosity in me, and a good handful of voyeur in me, too. I’ve seen things on the sly that few men ever see.”
“Seen lots of men and boys poling animals. Some were right out in the open about it with me. They didn’t think it wrong at all. They figured it didn’t matter one way or the other, since it’s only an animal, and it feels good.”
“One old coot of a prospector used to bang his donkey mare all the time–for years–out in the mountains while he was panning out stake money and looking for a big strike.”
“Lots of widowers take to their cows. Can’t say I blame them. No woman will live on them scratch farms with ’em. Those men got no place else to go and nothin’ else they can do. A man needs some pleasure and a man’s pecker gets pretty demanding.”
“So you get the rare woman who takes to a stallion donkey or maybe a colt … not too surprisin’ under some situations.”
“Usually, though, a woman can always find a man, if she needs company and some fun in bed. No call to start using an animal. Most men will travel a long way to bed a woman.”
“And you take a handsome young woman like Bess! Well … maybe she figured it wasn’t adultery if she did it with Peter, her donkey. Just an animal, you see, just an animal.”
“I don’t know her psychology. I’m only speculating. Had to be something a little loose in her mind, though.”
“Trouble is, and I speak frankly now, trouble is, once a woman gets a taste of the right animal–you know, once she gets one of them big poles in her and an animal whomps it into her a time or two–then she’s no good for a man after that. Once a woman gets a taste of that kind of fucking … she’s spoiled. She won’t ever be full satisfied with a mere man again.”
“Yes, I’m gettin’ to it. As I said, I went back to Bess’s farm a couple weeks later with the excuse in my mind to check up on Peter.”
“Actually, I drove up there in the early evening with the idea maybe I’d get to see something. Well, I’ll confess to you … I went on out to her place and snuck around in the bushes six times before I hit.”
“Left my car around the hill and walked in half a mile each time. Crept up and saw a light in the barn.”
“Crept up to the barn and peeked in through a crack between those old, warped boards. Big enough to get a good look-see.”
“It like to took my breath away. I was right on the money. There was Bess pushing that little mattress under Peter. She had him haltered and boxed into a corner so he couldn’t move very much and maybe do her damage with his hooves.”
“She had a robe on, I guess, wrapped around her and from where I was looking, her bent over and a lot of leg showing, and her big milkers jiggling and hanging loose when she moved, I got me the idea she was stark naked underneath.”
“My heart started pumping heavy, let me tell you. But I could tell I wasn’t going to get a good view from where I was looking, so I crept slow and quiet around to where Peter was tied up against the wall and found me another good crack to look in through.”
“Bess had electricity for the house, but it wasn’t strung for the barn, so she had an oil lantern hung up on a spike in a post near Peter.”
“I could see in fine, but she couldn’t see me peeking in. Shadows in the cracks and such.”
“Bess was kneeling beside that donkey, rubbing his neck and sides and sort of crooning to him, saying words I couldn’t get. But I was looking through a crack low enough down for me to see his pole sliding out.”
“Now let me tell you a few things about a donkey. Most city people don’t know beans about animals, ‘specially a donkey. A donkey is like a very small horse, but shaggier, and his ears are longer. He comes up to a man’s stomach with his body and he’ll look you in the eye with his head up. A donkey’ll weigh three–four times what a man does. So you can expect a donkey’s pecker is a mighty size for a woman to get around.”
“When Peter’s pecker came easing down I was in a good position to see it–I wasn’t more than three or four feet away, actually. And that thing was like … well, like a child’s arm from fist to elbow, just about that size. Kind of a wet purple in color. Mean-looking thing. My belly was knotting up tight, from anticipating Bess taking that ugly pole into her passage.”
“Meanwhile, Bess was kneeling beside the animal and her hands were moving closer and closer under his barrel of a chest, down into the shaggy yellow-white hair of his underbelly.”
“She got her left hand on that wet purple thing and started playing with it, running her fingers up and down on it, and getting her hand around it and starting to kind of jack him off.”
“Peter started gettin’ frisky with her doing that to him. He brayed a lot, but not too loud, and he stomped the floorboards good. And he tossed his head and turned his neck to look at her.”
“Bess let go of his pole and opened up her robe and let it fall off her shoulders. Oh, what a woman she was. I’ve never seen a woman to match her since, and I’ve seen my share.”
“She was very white–white skin all over–and built like that ol’ brick shithouae, you know? Had a pair of milkers on her … came out to here with beautiful, red, crinkled up teats. You’d swear she had a half-gallon of milk in them breasts of hers, they were so swollen and stuck-out and round. You’d swear it would be a kindness to her to start suckin’ on them.”
“And she had an ass on her … each half nice and smooth and round … and legs like you see in the movies.”
“Only thing not perfect about Bess was her left foot, which was clubbed, from when she was born, and she walked with a limp and had to wear a special shoe. Shoes for her cost up to fifty dollars, I heard once. Still and all, everybody figured her husband got a bargain, marrying her.”
“But maybe that clubfoot made her a little odd In the head. Kids can be cruel to crippled kids, and I bet she got bent in the head when she was young. Maybe that’s why she took to that donkey. Or maybe it was those long, cold, dark mountain winters.”
“But there I was crouchin’ outside that barn lookin’ in through a crack in the boards … and there she was crawlin’ in under that donkey, with him stampin’ and slobberin’ from the mouth, all ready to go, with that long pecker all slid out.”
“I frankly didn’t think any woman could hope to encompass all that much pole. I frankly didn’t think any woman had that much of a hole in her.”
“But Bess … I’m telling you. She crawled under that animal with her ass rubbing the end of that big pecker, and she’s on all fours, like an animal herself, and she gits on her hands and knees under him, between his four legs, like it was a natural thing. I got a cold chill seeing her in that position. Wasn’t anything to the creepy feeling I got when she and him started fucking.”
“Bess reached back under between her legs and grabbed that pole and put the end of it into herself. That was a thick chunk to get in, too, let me tell you. And Peter didn’t make it any easier for her. He was moving around as much as he could, and beginning to shove, too.”
“But she got it into herself and when he felt that he up and clopped his front feet up on a shelf, just like held been trained to, I expect, and this gave him a purchase and an angle he needed, like he was mounting a she-donkey, and he got that first big shove into her good.”
“I could hear everything pretty good. That board wall was a sieve for sound, and when that pole slammed into her, Bess let out a grunt with a squeal on the end of it you could’ve heard for a hundred yards.”
“Of course she didn’t limit herself that way. She figured she was alone for ten miles every way around. So she let herself go. She talked to that animal like he was human.”
“What she did–she leaned forward when he shoved, and leaned back when he pulled back, and that way she wasn’t impaled all at once, and she didn’t lose him, either. She had it all worked out.”
“Even so … she didn’t match him right a couple times and that pecker fell out of her. She had to reach back and put it back in.”
“And a lot of times–‘specially toward the end–she or he lost the rhythm and she took nearly all of that pole–SMACK–whole! and boy, she howled good. But it was a good-feelin’ howl, I could tell. She liked it even if it did near stretch her box to the limit. She had it plow into her like that over a dozen times, I imagine, and her whole body would snap tight like a jolt of electricity had gone through her.”
“I think that fucking lasted a good ten minutes. She got to where she was out of her mind, had her hands straight forward on the boards, pushing herself back on that mighty pecker that was plowing into her, right up into her. I didn’t believe a woman could find room for a pecker that big around and that long. I sure as hell ain’t seen the like since.”
“You take a look at a seven or eight-year-old’s arm sometime, from the fist to the elbow, and you try to imagine that’s a purple donkey pole getting shoved up into a handsome young woman, naked, in a barn … The things people will do.”
“I got to admit I was sweating while watching all this. I got the hot chills from seeing it. And my right hand was down in my pants, rubbing away good.”
“But Bess was the one who was really enjoying that fucking she was getting. She was grunting every time it went in … and usually it went in only about two-thirds. She was drooling a little, too, and not knowing or caring about it. The woman was out of her mind. I don’t know what it feels like to be a woman, getting fucked like that animal was fucking her, and I don’t want to.”
“The cap on it was when the animal shot his wad into her. He got wild and was fucking her so hard I thought she’d get ruptured. She was having that pole all the way in, having it shoved in with a couple hundred pounds of impact.”
“She was helpless, like a worm taking a hook. Except she kept pushing back for more each time he pushed her forward.”
“I have to say she shocked me. I was squatting outside, peering in through that crack in the boards, beating my meat, watching it all, and I was hypnotized. Bess’s milkers were wobbling under her, like round white pots. Her head was hanging down, and her long hair was trailing on the blanket over the little mattress.”
“And all this was in that yellow light from the lantern and with all that fucking causing shadows. And that animal was breathing loud and fast, like a windstorm. And he kept clomping his hooves on the boards and braying once in a while … and shoving that pole into her as fast as he could. He couldn’t get enough into her, it looked like, and she was grunting when he got most or all of it in, grunting like a big man had slugged her in the gut.”
“When that animal shot his wad it was like a fountain of cream had backed up in her. It came shooting out around his pole from her insides, like a pump. Each time he shoved into her he shot more into her hole and each time when he got in deep enough the pressure would squirt the stuff out of her.”
“I guess I was pop-eyed seeing all that. I had a handful of my own stuff shooting out into my pants, I admit that. Got nothing to hide. Not at this late date.”
“Bess was grunting and howling like crazy while that animal was shooting in her. It was enough to turn me gray. Didn’t know whether to run in there and stop it or not.”
“Then it was over. Peter brayed loud once and started to struggle to get his front legs down off that shelf made of two-by-fours.”
“Bess got out from under him quick. She looked punch-drunk, and she was dripping a steady flow of his stuff out of her hole.”
“She stood up and helped him down. Then she put some extra oats in his feed trough and put on her robe again. She limped out of the barn with the lantern and went into the house.”
“I went back to my car down the road and drove home. I was pretty wrung out, and I guess Bess slept good that night, too.”
“The thing is, you see, I couldn’t let it alone. I wanted to see that happen again, and stirrin’ in my mind was a strong yen to do things with Bess myself.”
“Now, I knew I had an ace to play, having seen what she did with old Peter. But I figured a picture would be something powerful to get my way with.”
“Understand, I was a young man then, and I had a lot of Piss and vinegar in me. And good lookin’ women were hard to find in that county.”
“I’m not too particular how I get my way, sometimes. I figured Bess was fair game. All I needed was a good lever.”
“I wasn’t too nice a guy in those days. I was 4-F because of ulcers and the fact that the county draft board figured I was essential to the area, being the only vet for fifty miles or so.”
“I had a good camera, used it to take picture of animals for records and such. Did some picture-taking at the county fairs–prize animals and such as that, for the local weekly.”
“So … you guessed it, yes, I haunted Bess’s farm every afternoon and early evening for a week before she got her yen up for that donkey’s pole.”
“I got my hopes up one afternoon, but she was full-dressed and carrying a bucket. She spent an hour combing and brushing and wiping that animal.”
“I kept coming back each day. I’m a persistent cuss, sometimes. I figured she’d set him up again in the same place, so he could rear up and get his front feet on that shelf … so I sneaked up to the barn and I whittled out that crack so it was wide enough to take a picture through. Then I rubbed dirt on the cut parts so she wouldn’t notice right away.”
“Well, she came out to the barn one early evening, and I was a-waiting. Camera ready. I wasn’t sure what kind of picture I’d get with only that lantern for light, but I had a big lens and I could open ‘er up to one point five and I figured a tenth of a sec would do ‘er. Had that fast double film.”
“She had a little bit of hard candy for Peter. She fed it to him in the palm of her hand and stroked his neck and scratched his ears good. He smelled her. She had on the same robe and from the way her milkers jiggled and her teats stuck out, I could make a good guess she was mother naked under it.”
“Sure enough, she led him over to the same place and pulled that blanket-covered little mattress over. Then she let her robe fall … and all that beautiful white body was there to see. Those big milkers. I remember thinking it was a waste she never had any kids.”
“I clicked me a couple shots of her naked like that. She didn’t hear the shutter with all the stomping and hay-crackling that was going on.”
“She hugged him around the neck and whispered in his ear–I could see his ear turn and twitch. I took a picture of that, too–her pressing herself against him like that.”
“In fact, she rubbed herself against him. That shaggy brown coat of his turned her on, I guess. She hugged his neck and rubbed her teats against him till they were hard as dried cherries. They looked a lot juicier, though. Made my mouth water. Big and fat and wrinkled.”
“She was hot to trot. She knelt down like before and got a hold of Peter’s pecker–it was out all the way, of course. Near as thick as her wrist.”
“It was possible for me to see her crotch–I was lookin’ in under the animal–and she was wet there, the lips of her twat was juicy, almost drippy with that natural slippery stuff.”
“She had a hold of that big pecker and was skinning her hand along it–back and forth, making him stomp and jitter.”
“I took a picture of it, but the light under there was bad because she was blocking it with her body, mostly.”
“But then she turned kind of sideways and put her hand down between her legs and slid two–three fingers into herself. She did it easy and I realized how stretched she had to be from taking that huge pecker, God only knows how many times.”
“The light fell on her just right, so I clicked a picture of it. I had enough right then–her with her hand on that pole and the other hand in herself. I had enough to get her to do my will if the pictures came out.”
“In fact, she sort of froze for a couple seconds, like she maybe heard that shutter-click, and she looked around fast and nervous, wild-eyed, but she didn’t think of looking at the knothole I had made. I guess I was lucky the light didn’t reflect off the lens and give me away.”
“She listens hard for a while, her head cocked just so … but I was froze, too, hardly breathing, and good old Peter kept stompin’ and breathing heavy.”
“Finally she decided she’d been imaginin’ things, and got interested in that big pecker again. She played with it a while and got that animal beside himself. I thought she was just going to masturbate him the way she was pumping that pole.”
“And the thing I took some pictures of was her hand in her twat. She sat on that little mattress like a Buddha, legs crossed, and wide open. You get the picture–facing the wall, which meant facing me and my camera and she kept on playing with that big stiff pecker with one hand and with the other hand she worked herself into a blue-tailed tizzy. She got so she had half her hand inside her twat, just jamming it in and out, except for her thumb. Had all her fingers sliding in and out right past the knuckles.”
“Well, the reason she didn’t see the lens and the big hole I’d cut was that Peter’s belly was in the way, mostly, and his hide was so shaggy she had to bend over way low to see all the way under him.”
“Peter brayed loud a couple times, like he was telling her to get on under him so he could fuck her.”
“She said–and I can hear her voice clear in my mind even now–she said in a sexy voice, Just shook up with passion: ‘Yes, honey, right away. Right now.'”
“She’d she pushed that small mattress under him and got in there with his belly hair tickling her back. He clopped around in place and then reared up with his front hooves on that shelf, like he’d been trained to do.”
“Him up like that gave me more light. I got her in perfect profile as she reached under between her legs and got a hold of his pecker.”
“Then, I think before she realized it, he nailed her with that big ugly pole. Right into her like a battering ram!”
“His hind quarters give that jerk and she got that purple arm right on up into her belly so far you’d swear she’d bust open.”
“She gave out that squeal-grunt and was knocked forward. Then he pulled back for an other run in and pulled all the way out.”
“I was ready the second time. When she put that pole in position I got a shot of her face, too, looking under herself, the light good enough for an exposure. She was so interested in what was coming she didn’t hear the shutter.”
“She give out a ‘OH!’ when he smacked into her again, but she moved forward with it and didn’t get the full size, then she moved backward when he pulled. I watched it to the end. I was practically hypnotized.”
“Bess got so worked up she was yelling, ‘SHOVE IT IN … SHOVE IT IN …’ each time. She was lathered with sweat at the end, and staring glassy-eyed.”
“I watched that pole drive into her all the way just before Peter blew his wad … and it was her doing, too–she braced herself and took it up into her belly. She was suckin’ air and groanin’ and grunting each time, but she loved it. She pressed back, kept pressing back after he knocked her forward.”
“Peter, he brayed and snorted and went a little wild himself–slammin’ that long wicked thing into her, his flanks heavin’, his hooves beginning to splinter the floorboards …”
“Then it started gushing out of her, splattering down on her legs and on the floor and all.”
“It left her weak, I could see that. Her arms and legs trembled and she staggered like a drunk for a minute, getting her robe on.”
“I crept away. I was creamin’ my pants to get the films developed. About two hours later down in my basement darkroom, I knew I had something. I had to overdevelop that roll a lot, but I got good negatives and good prints.”
“There she was, it was Bess all right, getting stiffed by that ugly donkey pecker. There was Bess stark naked, hugging the animal and pressing her teats against him, smiling.”
“I had a good deal of satisfaction in those photographs. I made two sets of prints, and I hid those negatives good.”
“Then, along about four days later, I made me a visit out to her place.”
“Like I said before, I’m a mean bugger when I want to be, and I was itchy for her then. If she could see getting fucked by her donkey, she sure as hell wouldn’t turn me down for any good reason, even if she was married.”
“That was quite a scene we had in her house. I’ll skip all the shadowboxing and how she acted all innocent at first, then angry and insulted and outraged–that all went by the board when I showed her those photos.”
“She got so pale … the blood just ran out of her head. Then she looked up and got fiery-red–tomato red and she just seemed to come apart. One minute she was a proud, angry woman, and the next minute–just crumpled up, sobbing like her heart was busting, hiding her face in her hands, huddled over on the sofa.”
“I felt like a royal bastard, but I felt good, too, with those photos giving me power over her.”
“Standing straight, Bess was about an inch taller than me. I’m not a big man, you know–five feet seven, without shoes on. And I find the older I get I shrink down, too.”
“But that was my time to be in control. I had her. I told her what would happen to her if I told the sheriff what she was doing with that animal, and showed him the proof. How she’d be arrested and everybody would know–how it would be whispered around, how the judge would send her to the insane asylum forever, how it was in the state hospital with those crazy women shitting anywhere they felt like it, yelling and screaming, and gabbling and puking and talking to themselves and even attacking her if they felt like it, how she’d never get out of there, they’d keep her there till she died, considering what she did.
“I laid it on thick. Most of it was true, of course. The mental hospitals in that state are snake pits, and everybody knows it.”
“She was shaking so hard I could barely understand her at first–but she was waking up that I wanted something.”
“I just said it plain. ‘Bess,’ I said, ‘I want to climb in bed with you and have us some fun, that is all.'”
“She looked at me like I was a bug, but those pictures were scattered on the floor and she was a fine one to complain.”
“She didn’t want to. She said she loved her husband, she said this and she said that, but I just knocked down everything she said. She couldn’t talk me out of it.”
“Finally she realized it, I had all the power. So she finally nodded and asked me, ‘Now?’ and I said yes, and we went into the bedroom.”
“It was embarrassing at first for me. I’d never forced myself on a woman before. You should believe that. It was one of those times … out there in that lonely, rocky country, with nothing much to do … it was one of those times when a man acts like a man. Not like an animal. I had her in my power and I knew I could make her do anything and she wouldn’t make trouble. That’s a situation few men can leave alone.”
“We got naked and I spent a good hour with my hands on her body, feeling her all over … especially those beautiful milkers of hers. Like white satin, with those upstanding teats. Her breasts were so round and full. Didn’t sag hardly at all.”
“I sucked on those teats like a thirsty baby–like a newborn colt sucks on his mother. And I got them teats to stick up hard, too.”
“I wanted to work her up in spite of herself I wanted her to get hot and want me for a man.”
“But as soon as I started fooling with her between the legs I knew I couldn’t satisfy her. I slid my finger down there and it went in easy, even with her not being wet naturally.”
“She was stretched so much–there was no elasticity left there. She didn’t shrink tight again after God knows how many times she’d been fucked by that giant donkey pecker.”
“She was no good for a man. I’m not hung like a donkey. I’m on the small size as far as a man goes. I didn’t think of that ahead of time–her being so big and loose inside.”
“I put three fingers in her and was feeling around, curious as to how she could be so big.”
“You might find this hard to believe, what I did, but it’s God’s truth, so help me. I bunched my fingers and put my thumb in between–see, like this–and pushed my whole hand into her.”
“I’ve got a small hand for a man anyway, of course, but I’m telling you it was a funny feelin’–and a strange sight–to see my whole hand disappear up into her twat like that.”
“It was a little tight at the entrance, but a twist and push and the hand was in … and it was warm and wet in there, with little knobs and things up in there.”
“She was surprised, too, but it did what I wanted … it seemed to turn her on good. She sat up on her elbows and stared down at my arm between her open legs like that, and blushed something like pure pink. She wouldn’t look at me, only at my arm down there.”
“I asked her if she wanted me to fuck her with my hand. She said I could do whatever I wanted. She only wanted me to get it over with and leave.”
“I said I wanted to have her enjoy it, too. She didn’t say anything. I experimented with my hand all the way in her. I felt around in there and made her jump and inhale when I stuck a finger into her cervix, right into her womb. The little mouth spasmed and dilated on my finger. She started to gasp. She said it hurt.”
“I took my finger out of it and curled my fingers closed over my thumb … into a fist, the way girls make a fist sometimes.”
“That stretched her, too, and she winced. Then I started fucking her in there with my fist. Easy and slow at first. It was a short stroke about three inches leeway in, her.”
“She didn’t say anything at first. She just watched. Her long brown hair was beautiful the way it fell past her white shoulders and partly lay, on her full breasts.”
“It was hard work, driving my fist in her like that–it was like pushing and pulling in warm molasses, because after a few minutes I noticed she started to clamp down inside and at the opening, with her muscles.”
“Bess started to breathe deeper, too, and her legs opened up more and her hips started to move. I kept watching, with her. I couldn’t believe I was doing it, either. My whole hand in her to the wrist … almost up to my wristwatch. I wore an old Waltham, then. And I remember wondering if I could push in till the watch disappeared, too.”
“I tried, but she grunted and said it hurt too much.”
“I noticed that each time I pushed my fist deep into her, her vulva and her clitoris were sort of pulled in, too. I noticed that her clitoris got rubbed on my wrist each time it was pulled down and in. I figure that was what happened with the donkey pole–it was so thick and long it pulled the clitoris down and rubbed it, too.”
“After a few minutes I could tell she was liking it. She got some color in her cheeks and some spark in her eyes.”
“I kept it up and sure enough, she said for me to do it faster and harder. It embarrassed her to say that, to tell me, but she couldn’t hide what was happening to her, and maybe she didn’t really care. Maybe she figured having a man force her that way wasn’t really adultery and being unfaithful.”
“I started in working my arm like a piston in a cylinder–like you see on the side of a steam locomotive–shuff–shuff–shuff–shuff …”
“Bess started to lose herself in it. She was panting and gruntin’–just like when Peter’s pecker was shovin’ into her.”
“I think she almost forgot me. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened and she was shaking and jerking like crazy.”
“She had her an orgasm–a damn good one and my arm was tired as hell. The closer she got to coming the more she clamped down on my hand and wrist till my arm and shoulder was tired as hell, actually trembling with fatigue.”
“Truth is, I was glad to pull my hand out of her. Thought for a minute she’d never let it go.”
“I figured I had a favor coming from her. I knew I couldn’t get any satisfaction putting my little dink in her there, so I rolled over on my back and put it to her plain, in five-cent words. I said, ‘Okay, Bess, now how about you using your mouth?'”
“I started playin’ with her teats again, waiting for her to say something.”
“She said she’d never done that before with any man, including her husband. So I said it was about time she learned.”
“She said no and I said yes, and we got to almost yelling. Finally I had to grab her and pull her head down to it and tell her if she didn’t I’d make sure her husband and the sheriff got a look at those photos.”
“That was enough. She was cryin’ and weepin’ and reluctant, but the idea of making her do it had me with a hard on that wouldn’t quit.”
“Finally she opened her mouth and took in the end of my pecker and started sucking it … sucked it pretty good, too, and I felt the sap rising in me.”
“I kept my hands on her head and kept her head bobbing up and down. I told her how to do it, told her how to use her tongue.”
“I didn’t plan on just having that one time in bed with her. I figured on coming around a lot.”
“She finally decided, I guess, that she should do me and get it over with. She started sucking and tonguing with some enthusiasm. Not that she liked it, but she found it wasn’t as terrible a thing to do as she had thought.”
“I shot off a minute later … right up into her mouth. It was a hot, sweet feeling, holding it back, holding it back, while the sensations got higher and higher and stronger and stronger … then I couldn’t stop it any more, and it shot up out of me.”
“Bess knew it was going to happen. She had to know that, but it surprised her anyway. She lifted her mouth off. ”
“I fountained once or twice more and she made a face and spit into her band. She got off the bed and went to the bathroom.”
“I didn’t get dressed. I wanted a cup of coffee, then I wanted her to suck me again.”
“She made me the coffee, and had a cup herself, but she put up a big fight about sucking me again. She had thought once was enough and I’d leave her alone.”
“I made her keep naked, too. She had to walk around in the buff. I liked to see her milkers wobble and jiggle and stick out like they did, and see her walk around like a queen. Beautiful body. Except for that foot of hers and that limp.”
“Bess told me never to come back when I left a couple hours later. But she knew I’d be back. I told her I’d be back. I was mean. Give a man power like that over a handsome woman and he’ll abuse her every time. I’m no different. You’d do it, too.”
“I drove back out to her place five days later. She locked the door on me but I forced it open and threatened her with the photos again.”
“I asked her if she’d paid a visit to Peter while I was gone. She said, no, real cold in her voice. I didn’t like that treatment. It got my goat. I wasn’t such a bad guy. She’d enjoyed bed with me. So I told her to get her clothes off–I was going to fist-fuck her.”
“She argued and delayed and I had to push her down and practically do it by force … but before long she got excited again and I started driving my fist like a piston and she started to shake and jerk with an orgasm.”
“She was hugging me at the end, and her hips were moving like a snake and she was panting and grunting and squealing … It made me disgusted in a way.”
“She didn’t even seem to mind sucking me off after that. The more she was agreeable the more I had a contempt for her.”
“Along about my sixth visit she was glad to see me. She even–well, she even got so she would suck me off, and when I shot off up into her mouth, she didn’t spit it. She got so she wouldn’t take her mouth away.”
“Bess got so she would hug my waist and hips, crouching over me, and she’d know I was having an orgasm, and she’d work her mouth really sweet down on my pecker, and work her tongue sweet on it, and when I shot off, she kept the stuff in her mouth until I was all finished shooting, then she swallowed it all. I could hear her throat work when she swallowed it.”
“You know, for some reason that disgusted me more than her getting fucked by that donkey. It made my stomach turn over each time.”
“I got the belief after some weeks that she was a slut–just a perverted, loathsome woman, not worthy of the man who married her. I got so I wanted to punish her.”
“As long as you’re going to wipe this tape clean as soon as you have the words on paper, and you change all the names, I guess I’ll tell something I’m not too proud of … something I made Bess do.”
“Looking back on it now bothers me. I guess it’s been bothering me all my life. Maybe if I tell it, it’ll give me some peace.”
“Well, it has to do with her and that Peter, that donkey.”
“I was so disgusted with her swallowing my stuff like that … being so low as to do that … prostitutes, the lowest kind of prostitutes only did that kind of thing. That’s the way I was taught. That’s what I learned when I was a young man, back in the ’20s and ’30s.”
“Only low-down scummy prostitutes would swallow spunk and do things with animals. In my mind, I guess I thought Bess was that kind. She did those things, didn’t she?”
“So I–I got her naked one day and I dragged her out to the barn and I got her down on her knees under that animal and I told her what I wanted her to do.”
“She went ghost white and started to get up and I hit her, I’m sorry to say it, I hit her, I had to hit her, and I said if she didn’t I’d send copies of those photos to her folks. I had gone through her papers and I had their address. I told her I’d send those pictures to her mother and father, and her husband, the sheriff … There wasn’t anything she could do but cry. I felt pretty lowdown myself, but there was something eating in me, pushing me on, to make her do it. She had to be punished, she had to be shown the kind of slut she was, and that was the way.”
“I squatted down there next to her and I slapped her till she did it.”
“She took hold of that donkey pecker and started to masturbate it. And I had her reach over to my pecker and masturbate me, too.”
“It wasn’t long before Peter was dancin’ his hooves on the boards, getting ready to shoot.”
“That’s when I took Bess’s head in my hands and forced her face-to-face with the end of that pole, and forced her mouth open and forced her to put her mouth on the end of it.”
“It makes me plain sick now to think what I did to that woman.”
“Peter was shovin’ his pole in the air, pushin’ her head back each time. His pecker was too big for her to get even the end of it in her mouth.”
“I kept holdin’ her head and she kept crying and sobbing, deep down in her chest, the kind that tears you apart to hear, and I kept yelling at her to keep on jackin’ that pecker. Had her use both hands, had her keep her mouth on the end of it as best she could …”
“I’d promised her I’d give her the negatives of the pictures. This was the last time, the last thing she had to do.”
“Well, that animal finally gushed his stuff. She had her mouth wide open for it, too, that first big spurt of it. Went right in like a big pump was behind it–right in her mouth.”
“Something went and broke in my guts when I saw it–I got a hot wet feeling and I was shooting, too. I hardly knew it.”
“Bess took that first glop of that stuff full in the mouth and gagged on, she turned her face away and more of it shot out like from a hose and splashed her in the hair, and then more came out and splattered on her chin–on the side of her chin and ran down her neck–and more came out–not so hard and more runny–and it fell on her arm and on her milkers … down on her legs.”
“She was bent over then being sick, vomiting all over, upchucking everything.”
“I had me a prickly feeling up my back. And a cold chill all over. And like I was in a dream I said, ‘I didn’t make it happen.’ But I knew better. I was feeling sick to my stomach, too. I ran out of the barn and went back into the house.”
“I got dressed and scamped out of there as fast as I could. I was shakin’. I drove home and I burned all those negatives and all the prints.”
“I never saw Bess again. I learned her husband got himself killed in Italy two months later, and she took the ten thousand insurance money and left the state. Sold that donkey named Peter without a qualm.”
“I’ll bet that animal never had no owner like her again!”
“I was glad to hear she was gone. I wasn’t very proud of myself.”
“Heard of a farm girl once who was simple-minded. She went around with her finger in her twat all the time and liked to masturbate animals. Her folks finally had to send her to a state hospital.
“Can’t think of anything more that has to do with women and animals as far as sex goes.”
THE END