Carl Isley

Dog show girl

Introduction

"Bestiality", "violation of animals", "monstrous and revolting to mankind". Krafft-Ebing used these words to introduce the subject of sex between humans and animals in his monumental nineteenth century study of perverse sexuality, Psychopathia Sexualis. The public attitude toward many deviant sex practices has eased since those harsh Victorian times but the very idea of bestiality seems as "monstrous and revolting" as ever to most people today.

The Old Testament, source of most of our basic behavioral taboos, is clear on the subject. In Leviticus 18:23 Lord lays down the law to Moses, "Neither shalt thou lie with any beast to defile thyself therewith; neither shall any woman stand before a beast to lie down thereto: it is confusion."

The Bible not only forbade bestiality but prescribed stern penalties both for the human and the animal participants, each apparently being presumed equally guilty in the affair. Thus Leviticus tells us, "If a man lie with a beast he shall surely be put to death: and ye shall stay the beast."

In the Middle Ages in Europe surviving court records show that the Biblical penalties were carried out to the letter. In France one man was hanged and then burned for fornicating with a cow and a goat, and then both animals were also burned. Two centuries later, a sixteen-year-old girl was found guilty of having had sexual relations with a dog, and both dog and girl were hanged and burned.

Most states today have no law on their books specifically forbidding bestiality, but it is usually considered to fall under the general category of sodomy offenses, which include everything from sucking a twat to screwing a turkey, from buggering your wife's rectum to fucking a corpse on a morgue slab, from jerking off in company with a friend to having your cunt licked by a cocker spaniel. It's all sodomy in the eyes of the law, although the sodomy statutes are seldom enforced these days except against homosexuals.

Anyway, Biblical interdictions and harsh penalties in the law codes never have prevented bestial practices. As with all other varieties of sexual behavior, people have always done pretty much as they pleased in the privacy of their own boudoirs and barns.

Although records of specific incidents of bestiality down through the years are scarce, there is ample evidence that it has been widely practiced in all centuries by all peoples. There are many reports by travelers and explorers of prevalent bestiality among the depraved citizens of other, less-enlightened lands. Sanctimonious observers from the western world found it running rampant among the pagans of the far east, Europeans observed it with horror among the Arabs and black Africans, Arabs declared it to be common among the perfidious Turks.

But there was plenty of beastly buggering going on among our own ancestors in western Europe as well, the best evidence being that bestiality as a crime is constantly mentioned both in church and civil law, century after century, with ever more drastic punishments being laid down for the culprits. It would hardly have been such a constant concern of the lawmakers unless it had been a widespread habit.

In the Middle Ages, when penalties against it were the most severe, all the evidence indicates that bestiality as an adjunct to witchcraft revelries and as a casual barn-yard pastime ran a neck-and-neck race with incest as the favorite sport among the peasantry.

In the prim and proper nineteenth century, Krafft-Ebing regretfully reported that violation of animals was none too infrequent, and in the modern day Doctor Kinsey's more extensive and enlightened research discovered that forty to fifty percent of farm boys he interviewed had had some kind of sex relations with animals at one time or another in their young lives.

A good indication of the way bestial sex has obsessed man's fancy through all the ages is the frequency with which it turns up in popular literature and mythology. The ancient myths and fairy tales are full of creatures half-human and half-beast such as centaurs, sphinxes and mermaids, and human and animal love affairs wherein the beast usually is a God or prince temporarily transformed.

In our own time we continue to thrill over popular entertainments wherein bestiality is suggested if not specifically portrayed. Jungle adventures in which young lovelies are carried off by giant apes, presumably to satisfy their bestial lust, have always been popular with matinee audiences.

As many writers, including Freud have suggested, where bestiality has persisted so in men's fantasies, there certainly must have been widespread practice of the actual deed, for men's dreams are reflective of their real-life desires.

In the free-and-easy climate of today, bestiality is not only common on a pastime basis as ever, but many of those who practice it are quite willing to spill their guts about it for publication without shame or fear. There is a spirit of adventure in the practice of sex today, a reaching out for new sensual experiences of every kind, and an unabashed readiness to share the fruits of those experiments and spread the joyful word to the hesitant, still-puritanical masses. So I had surprisingly little difficulty in finding a variety of persons of all ages and both sexes who quite willingly 'told all' about their bestial habits for this book. I have compiled from the resulting taped conversations the case reports in the following pages. Only the names and places have been disguised in some instances, in light of the sodomy laws, but the broad picture these cases give of bestiality as it is practiced in our twentieth century world is a true one.

Chapter One

Spectator Sport

In the course of history, bestial practices have been not only a private pastime but in various places and times have played a part in religious rituals, witchcraft rites, and public spectacles for the titillation of the masses.

It is hardly surprising that the ancient Romans who made an arena spectacle out of everything from costume dramas to gladiatorial warfare found sadistic delight in bestial sex exhibitions on the grand scale. An amazing variety of animals were trained to perform sexually in the arena, most often committing rape on helpless, spread-eagled young maidens. Zebras, cheetahs, even giraffes reportedly were involved in this kind of bizarre sport.

According to R.E.L. Masters, the diligent sex-researcher and writer, on one infamous occasion in the Coliseum a hundred golden-haired young girls were raped in unison by a hundred rampaging baboons, a girl-show spectacular beyond anything ever dreamed of by Busby Berkeley.

On other occasions, to add an extra zest to the performance, wild apes would not only rape the unfortunate girls but devour their bodies afterwards for an encore.

Since those pagan times bestial sex-shows have never again reached such heights of production lavishness or played to such arena-sized audiences. In recent centuries and down to the present day virtually the only public performances of the kind have been whorehouse exhibitions, usually involving a prostitute and either a large dog or it small horse.

Krafft-Ebing noted such an exhibition a hundred years ago, an 'example of the moral depravity in large cities', in which 'a Parisian female showed herself in the sexual act with a trained bulldog to a secret circle of roues at ten francs a head'.

Since the old-fashioned garden-variety whorehouse has become practically extinct in this country, generally one must travel abroad to find such performances today. A few countries of Latin America, Asia and the Arab lands still offer these usually pitiful spectacles as underground tourist attractions.

A New York executive who has spent much time in the Caribbean islands where his firm does a great deal of business tells about an experience of the kind in pre-Castro Cuba.

CASE 1 — Ben P.

Before the revolution down there, Cuba was really the place to go, I'm telling you. It was murder trying to get any business done is the only thing, with all the distractions — whores and whorehouse on every street, blue movies, orgy exhibitions — you name it and you could find it. You didn't have to do any shopping around either. All you had to do was walk out on any street. They'd spot you for an American right off and there'd be a dozen pimps after you, trying to sell you every kind of sex experience that man ever invented. You couldn't help get the impression that every broad in Havana was peddling her ass and every guy was pimping for them.

The 'exhibitions' were the big thing. First thing they'd mention to you. 'Superman' was the big star. He was a big black bugger with a cock like a baseball bat, and he put on shows in one of the houses there. He'd take on about four or five of the girls at once and they'd play the scene for you any way you ordered it. If you wanted to, you could strip down and join the show yourself. They'd do their thing in a performance just for you, or for a whole party of ten or twenty tourists. How Superman kept his prick up all day is beyond me. Must've had a steel rod planted in it. Or maybe there were three or four different 'Supermen' working in shifts for all I know.

Anyway, I'd been there a few times and seen and done just about everything there was in that Goddamn sex-town, and one hot day in December I landed in Havana with some business to attend to, figuring I'd finish it up in an hour or two and hop back to Miami that same night. No hanky-panky this trip I promised myself. In fact I had a redhead date all lined up for myself in Miami that would put all these fat-ass Cuban whores to shame. I figured she and I would have a little private exhibition all our own that night in front of the picture mirror in her apartment.

But of course I had the usual pimp parade on me like leeches as soon as I got downtown from the airport, giving me all the usual pitches, and they didn't like to take no for an answer. They figured that men came to Cuba from the U.S.A. to get laid, period. You tell them not interested and they don't believe their ears. After all, once you'd seen the Capitollo and the rum distillery and the ancient cathedral in Havana, what the hell else is there left but the whorehouse?

It wound up finally with just this one determined cat dogging my tracks, still trying to sell me some kind of cock therapy. He'd already run through the whole catalogue of goodies for me about twelve times. "You want the woman? Big tits woman? Young girl? Very young! Teen-age schoolgirl for you. She do everything you like. Two young girls — all for you. Two together. They come with you. Your hotel. Maybe young boy? You like the young boy? You say what you like. I fix for you. See the exhibition? Two girls? Three girls? Four? Five?"

Then he got into something that sounded like "done-kee the done-kee". I didn't get the meaning at first, but then I realized all of a sudden that he was pitching for a girl making it with a Goddamn donkey. This was a brand new one on me. I'd heard there were such things that went on but I'd never been steered on it before. All of a sudden I was interested. It was something people talk about but you don't get to see every day in the week and I was really curious. That woman with a donkey shit — you don't half believe it really happens, you know? I doubted that there were two guys in the whole of Philadelphia that could say they'd ever seen it, and here was my chance to be the first in my neighborhood.

At first I thought maybe it was just a movie show this guy was talking about, but he said, "No-o-o — real alive done-key — fuck pretty young girl for you."

I cooled down a little when he told me it was going to cost me fifty Cuban pesos, which translates into exactly fifty U.S. dollars. That was the tab for a private performance — just me, the girl and the donkey — but if I didn't mind sharing the spiritual experience, I could wait until night and there'd be a group showing for a crowd of tourists at ten dollars a head admission. Well shit, I couldn't pass that up. So I told him to put me down for a reservation, kissed off my date in Miami and checked into a hotel to wait out the time.

My friendly guide came to pick me up in a cab at seven-thirty and we drove down to the Chinatown section — the driver blasting his horn at every intersection the way they do. We pulled up at a seedy-looking old mansion on a dark street — had a huge front door about ten feet tall with an ornate grillwork all over it — real old Spanish style.

There was the usual fat madame that let us in and we went across a shitty-smelling courtyard and into the front room of the place. There was a lot of Spanish chatter going on — about how much loot they were going to be able to squeeze out of me, no doubt I'd already laid out five to the cab driver and ten to the guide, but there was still the beady-eyed madame to take care of, and probably the girl and the donkey besides. Then there'd usually be a few extra associate whores and apprentice pimps coming around with their hands out before any action finally got under way. There was a lot of featherbedding in these Havana sex factories. Everybody wanted in on the loot, whether they'd contributed to your orgasm or not. They must've had a hell of a strong union going for them I guess.

I gave five to the madame right away to get her off my back and turned a deaf ear to the swarm of young chicks that went at my pants the way they always did. The smart thing to do in a whorehouse is to let them grab at your cock all they want but keep your hand in your money pocket and protect that at all times.

The madame and my guide shooed the girls off me finally and we went inside through about six layers of draperies and came to a big square room with a round bed in the middle and the usual mirrors all over the walls and ceiling. There were about ten or twelve guys sitting around the bed — stateside tourist types. One of them even had brought his wife along with him. She was too prim and plain-looking to be anything but a wife.

The show had already started, but I hadn't missed anything. This was only a preliminary act — warm-up for the main event. Two naked girls were going at it on the red satin bedspread, one of them fucking the other man-style with a huge artificial prick fastened onto her lower body by straps. I'd seen this kind of shit before and it didn't do a hell of a lot for me. The room temperature was about a hundred-and-nine degrees — they didn't have air-conditioning in the brothels in those days — and the tourists were all panting and sweating beads with the heat and the excitement. I pulled up a chair in the second row, away from all those steaming bodies. I figured I'd save my sweat for the donkey act.

Meanwhile the artificial cock was pounding in and out and the fat little broad that was getting it was thrashing all over the bedspread, pretending to have fantastic orgasms. I got more fun though out of watching the tourist's wife, who was sweating worse than any of the men and looked very uncomfortable. She kept one hand up to her face at all times as if she was afraid somebody from back home was going to walk in all of a sudden and recognize her.

The girls quit their dildo fuck abruptly and broke off connections to move into a new position, but just then the madame popped in clapping her hands and sang out, "End of act one," or Spanish words to that effect. Four or five more girls had come in with her, some naked and some in g-strings, and they all climbed up onto the bed and struck leering poses, jiggling their boobs and grinding their hips for our benefit, and the two broads that had been performing got up and joined them.

Now it was up to us to decide which one of the girls we wanted to see getting her well plugged by the donkey. I voted for a slim little giggly chick with pointy, springy tits and a cute ass, figuring she'd give us a good lively show, but most of the tourists voted for a phony blonde with a big-eyed baby-face and a pair of boobs like Sophia Loren. It figured.

Then the other chicks all disappeared, we pulled our chairs back, and at couple of black Samsons came in and carried the bed away. At that point I was wondering how in the hell they were going to set the thing up. Getting a donkey's cock into a girl has to be some kind of a contortion, I figured, for the donkey and the girl both. There had to be some kind of apparatus.

Sure enough, they wheeled in a wooden platform and I began to see how they would manage it. The girl apparently would lie on top of the thing on her belly with her legs hanging down in back, spread wide, with her feet in stirrups and her pussy through wide-open from the ass-end. And there were raised-up shelves on both sides of the contraption where the donkey could rest his front legs when he reared up into position.

But the girl — I think they said her name was Felicia — didn't climb onto her perch right away. She was circulating around among the crowd making friends, thanking all the boys individually for picking her to fuck the donkey, and showing her gratitude with big slurpy tongue-licking kisses and by letting everybody play bouncy squeezy with her fantastic boobs.

When she came by me I passed up the titty feels and ran a handful of fingers up between her legs into her big slimy snatch, which is where I live, baby. I could tell she had a donkey-size cunt all right. Wow! She opened her legs for me and let me get my whole hand up inside her and then she clamped her thighs shut and did a fast wiggle, twisting her snatch around my fist, and it the same time she leaned forward and pressed her big flabby boobs into my face. Whoosh!

She had a real gamy, unwashed stink about her, but it was the raw, basic smell of a woman and that turns me on more than any phony perfume or dainty deodorant. That's one thing I always liked about those old-fashioned Latin whores — they stank like a woman is supposed to stink. That's something we've lost in this super-antiseptic age — the sensual value of human body-smells.

Anyway, speaking of smells, they brought in the donkey just then and he sure stank like he was supposed to all right. He was a little squatty, stump-legged bugger. Must've been half burro. His cock was still limp, but Felicia soon took care of that. She started off stroking his neck and patting his nose and then she pressed one of her big boobies to his mouth and rubbed it around and damned if that donkey didn't start in licking around the nipple with his big old tongue. She must've had honey smeared on it or something. Anyway that gave us all a good laugh.

After little of that she ducked down underneath his belly and started teasing his prick with her fingers. The donkey shuffled his hooves around and blew out a noseful. She was beginning to get to him. Then Felicia lifted her head up with her tongue snaking out, and damn if she didn't start in licking the shit out of that old donkey dick. It was the God damnedest thing to watch you ever saw. I heard a big gasp from the tourist broad. She probably didn't believe women did this nasty thing to men's pricks, let alone to donkeys. It sure was a sight all right, seeing that black dong swelling and stretching out like somebody blowing up a balloon. It must've wound up at least a foot long at its full extension and she was slobbering over it like crazy, licking it all up and down its length and letting the ugly old thing slide way down her throat and then easing it out again.

Finally she had that bugger so hot and horny he was tossing his head and tail around and stamping his front feet and quivering his withers — he looked like he was going to explode any second. She jumped up then and the two attendants ran out and grabbed the donkey or else he would've climbed right up on her then and there before she could get in position. He was kicking around and snorting to beat hell. Felicia climbed onto the platform and got set and then she yelled she was ready, and the guys led the donkey in behind her and let him rear up. Then they ducked out of the way in a hurry. From there on that fucking donkey didn't need any help from anyone — he knew what to do. He lunged right in against the girl's ass, his big belly up over her back and his long prong bobbing behind her. It looked like he was going to crush the shit out of her, but with his front legs set in the tracks on each side of her I guess his weight didn't come down on top of her the way it looked. But his prick was wanging the hell out of her rear end, bumping and butting at it before it found the hole. He finally got down under the crack of her ass and settled into the slot, right on target. But there still was a lot more stomping around with his hind legs and tail twitching before he actually worked it into her pearly gates and started driving it home. Felicia was yipping and yelling the whole time, telling him, "Fuck me, Pepe," in Spanish and English all mixed together.

Just to see it happening you'd have sworn that fucking donkey was ripping the living shit out of the poor helpless girl, but no such thing. She was even laughing, along with all the yelling and whooping. I don't know how many times she'd done this act before, but she must've been damn well broken in. The donkey kept on humping and humping at her for quite a while. I was surprised — I didn't think they went on that long. I'd heard that horses just made a couple of quick plunges and shot their wads and I assumed donkeys would be the same. But they must've had this bugger trained to hold his fire and make a better show of it for the crowd.

It was wild and exciting to watch — I'll say that — but a little sickening too in a way. Seeing that fucking ramrod disappearing at least a foot up inside a girl's guts had to make you wince a little.

When the donkey came finally, he must've shot a half-a-gallon of juice up her alley — it came oozing back out all around her ass and dripped down the backs of her legs. She let out a big yahoo and right away the big boys came out and pulled the donkey back off her and led him away with his prick still a half-a-yard long and a big streamer of goo dangling off the end of it.

Felicia hopped down off her perch, as spry as ever as far as I could see. She didn't took any the worse for her ordeal, although her body was dripping wet with sweat and her pussy and ass were all lathered white with the donkey's cream.

"You like?" she said with a big happy smile and we all gave her a round of applause. I was thinking, "I wonder what the hell she could do for an encore." But that was the end of the formal entertainment, Felicia went around the circle collecting tips from the tourists and it looked to me as if she made quite a haul for herself. But she'd earned every nickel of it as far as I was concerned. I only hoped the Goddamn madame would let her keep a few bucks of it for herself, but probably not. Those Cuban whores lived a real slave existence in those days, from all I heard.

Then all the other girls came back in the room bare-ass naked and tried to interest the guys in a little private hanky-panky to round off the evening. I latched onto the little giggly chick that had caught my eye in the first place, and twenty more bucks to the madame fixed it up so I could take her back to the hotel with me for an all-night ball.

Unfortunately she didn't speak a hell of a lot of English. Most of the Cuban whores were recruited off the farms — a lot of them shipped in from Mexico — so they hadn't had much chance to learn English. I wanted to ask the kid about what it was like screwing the donkey — how the girls got broken in for it and all that. With a lot of sign language and pantomime I found out that she didn't enjoy donkey-fucking a hell of a lot, this girl. She had only done it a couple of times so far. Felicia seemed to get the call more than any of the other girls, and Felicia loved doing it with the donkey. But this chick of mine — I forget what she said her name was — said that the girls practiced for it with a huge, donkey-sized wooden dildo. The brothel operators would diddle a new girl with that monster until she could take it up her cunt a foot-and-a-half without shitting a brick, and then they'd figure she was ready to tackle the donkey.

This girl had a hell of an elastic twat, I must say, because I didn't have anything like what that donkey had, cock-wise, but she still gave me a good tight screw all the same. But then, she was still just a young kid at that time. Give her another year or two in Havana brothels, fucking donkeys and every other damn thing that came along, and that poor little cunt of hers would look like the Grand Canyon — like Felicia's.

I never got a chance to check up on the matter though. Castro moved in and took over the whole works before I ever got back to Havana again and I hear he put all the brothels out of business right off first thing. It must've been quite a blow to those poor girls, having to go out and go to work. But the one I really feel sorry for is that donkey. No more screwing pretty pink pussies for him. He must've wondered what he did wrong. The lousy communists probably got him pulling a junk wagon or some such thing. Poor little donkey. That revolution really fucked up his sex-life.

Chapter Two

Dog Eat Dog

Through the years, if historians ancient and modern are to be believed, there is hardly a creature — bird, beast or fish — that has not been used for man's sexual gratification.

We have already referred to the Roman arena spectacles, wherein giraffes, leopards, mandrills, bulls and boars were involved in the action. It is also recorded that Roman ladies of that time enjoyed running snakes up their vaginas in the warm weather for a cool, refreshing fuck.

In ancient Egypt both men and women regularly consorted with goats. In the temples, goats were advertised as incarnations of Gods, and were specially trained to provide sex-services to worshippers of either sex. Monkeys were also put to sexual use, dog-faced baboons being especially popular. And most intriguing of all, there are reports that some resourceful and highly adventurous Egyptians of the time even managed intercourse with crocodiles.

Chickens and other barnyard fowl have always been popular and are still often used today. Men also have been known to enjoy intercourse with dolphins and sea-cows, and women have found sensual delight in inserting squirming fish up into their jaded quims.

Sheep and calves have most commonly served men down through the years and continue to be most popular with farm boys today, although horses, pigs and chickens still figure prominently in barnyard action. But the most popular bestial partner of all in the modern world undoubtedly is the dog, and especially among city-dwellers to whom he is the only practical animal readily available. Dogs seem to adapt themselves agreeably to sex-relations with humans, serving with either tongue or penis, eagerly cooperative in fucking a human cunt or asshole when offered or slobbering over a honey-smeared prick or pussy.

Women are more likely to favor a dog over all other animals to serve their sex purposes and many an unattached lady keeps a canine lover these days — the perfect partner — always ready — always willing — and always absolutely discreet. A dog will never kiss and tell.

But sometimes the ladies will, as in the following case report.

CASE 2 — Laura M.

I was married for four years, and for three years and eleven months of that time I was the most miserable mismated wife in the history of matrimony. I'd had my share of affairs before marriage I have to admit, and I'd always thought of myself as a normal heterosexual female that responded with all the proper gasps and twitches when a man made the usual penetrations, but somehow when I settled down into marriage and it became a night-after-night thing, I became a nervous wreck and got so I hated sex completely. I didn't even want that man to touch me anymore for some crazy reason. It was all I could do by superhuman will-power to put up with a wham-bam quick one from him. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with me and I couldn't tell him either, so we just fought and yelled at each other and things went from bad to worse until we wound up hardly even speaking to each other.

If it hadn't been for this girl friend of mine, Vivian, I don't know what I would have done. She lived in the same building and was a decorator. She'd helped me to fix up the apartment when I first moved in and then she went on being helpful in all kinds of ways after that. She spent a lot of time with me during the daytimes, and I told her my sad stories — let her know all about my sex hang-ups and everything that was bugging me about my old man and men in general.

She never had been married herself but she talked as if she knew the rules of the game pretty well. Anyway, she was a lot of comfort to me when my husband finally pulled out for good. I won't say that Vivian and I fell into a lesbian relationship exactly. We didn't go down on each other or anything like that. But we did get pretty huggy and kissy sometimes and I found I was enjoying her holding me and caressing me the way I couldn't stand my husband doing it to me those last couple of years.

But I was getting more and more confused. What the hell was I, anyway? Finally I up and put it to Vivian in plain down-to-earth terms.

"Am I a lesbian or what? I don't really know what I want anymore. I thought it would be a big relief with my husband gone but now I find that I miss him somehow — miss what he could do for me, if you know what I mean. Even though I could hardly stand it when he did, that last year or so. He bugged me so — always expecting his pleasure right on schedule, night after night. Insisting on his 'marital right'. What I need is a nice docile man who's available and ready to go when I want him but never bugs me otherwise — just up and disappears when I don't want him around anymore. Maybe I should hire a gigolo just for one hour or so a week to come in and cool down my passions. Do they have such things?"

Vivian laughed and said, "Let me get this straight. What you would like is a man with a good stiff member who's always up and ready when you say 'go' and then crawls off and lies down in a corner afterwards and stays there with his mouth shut until you whistle for him again."