Alexandra Guy - A Maiden's diary

There is a fire under the matted red hair in the groin… I tumble over backwards-away from the pool of water. I rub my hair-matted fist into my hair-matted groin. I make all kinds of grunts and animal cries. I jump up and down in my burning arousal…

Then, at the foot of a tree, I see something very striking- very young-phenomenal. It is a kind of boy-girl, with skin the color of a muted moon-with the barely formed breasts of a girl and the nipples of a mature female human being. And this creature is holding something between its thighs. I growl. The creature looks up at me. It seems human but what sort of human has the breasts of a girl and-and? Yes, between its thighs is the human male organ, but it is not very large-it seems immature. I jump up and down in impatience-is it possible, I ask myself, to make any kind of conjoining with this creature at the foot of the tree? Is it possible to satisfy this red-hairy itch between my own lower limbs? Because this itch in my “fucking-hole,” as I call it, is driving me out of my sanity. The boy-girl does not seem to be afraid of me… On the contrary, it beckons to me… Wagging my head, I go toward the creature.

Suddenly, the boy-girl produces a silver chain and collar and, still lying there at the foot of the tree, casts the collar over my head and about my neck and loosely holds on to the chain. I shake my head. I growl. I try to remove the chain, but the collar, or noose, has tightened, and it will not come off over my head…

I ask myself, what shall I do? I could easily wrest away the chain from the boy-girl creature, but the silver of the chain delights me. It glitters in the twilight. It is steel, of course, but it feels infinitely soft, and the collar about my neck feels like velvet, but infinitely powerful-I am a captive forever, but an unprotesting one…

I play with the chain now. The boy-girl smiles softly.

I cannot smile. Gorillas cannot smile. God will not let them, and God made certain creatures as gorillas so they could neither smile nor weep… The burning itch between my thighs is still there. In my own strange gorilla way, I look askance at the boy-girl and I put four fingers into my fucking-hole. The boy-girl nods and starts to pull me by the silver chain to it at the foot of the tree. Oh, I pray to God, do not let the boy-girl torment me. That creature is such a slip of a thing, I could molest it so easily… hurt it so easily… kill it so easily… I am there, then, at the foot of the tree.

With the boy-girl of the childlike teats and the big nipples- and that recumbent slim cylinder between its thighs, like a small snake… to pet… to fondle… to kiss… And I feel as if all my flesh under its red matted hair is alive with fireflies, darting here and there… The boy-girl lets go the leash. But I do not run away. I stay… I stare down at the quivering, twitching slim thing between the boy-girl's thighs… Ah, I tell myself, there is the fountain of youth-if I put it in me, or drink it, or bathe in it, I will live forever-and, perhaps, I shall turn beautiful-I will no longer be a gorilla with matted red hair all over me… monstrous…

I will be beautiful, forever… And I fall in love with the boy-girl creature, because it will give me eternal beauty and youth…

Smiling, the boy-girl slides down into a completely supine position… I crouch. I reach down. The backs of my hands are matted with red hair. But not my palms. My palms are smooth, and now they have something between them, a small cylinder, the live flesh shaped like a cylinder between the boy-girl's thighs…

The fireflies are darting in and around and through my matted flesh. My head is burning… The boy-girl's eyes close, an expression of bliss on its face. I fondle this packet of warmth between its thighs. It humps a little. It grows. Longer. But not too long. It is a young thing. Will I kill it if I engulf it with my enormous yoni? I don't know. Instead of crouching now, I squat. Directly over the boy-girl's-dare I say it?-over the boy-girl's cock. Ah. Ah. Cock. That's good for a gorilla, for a beast, for a dirty animal. I am a dirty animal. Always. And now crackling and booming with a fucking-hole lust. I take the boy-girl's cock in one of my palm-smooth hands and guide it into my yoni… I cry from the bliss of it. But there are no tears on my face. I can Only cry in my gorilla-soul because God made our faces so that we could neither cry nor laugh… And the cock is not killed. On the contrary, it is harder than before. And the muscles of my yoni can toss the cock about like something with feathers on it-ah, my fucking-hole has a shuttlecock in it-and the muscles of the yoni strike it first this way, then that-the feathers tickling the walls of my yoni-and it was then that I awoke- I was entwined in my bed with James and Clarissa-and James had four fingers of his hand contracting and expanding within me-and Clarissa's mouth was fastened to one of the nipples of my succulent breasts and sucking… sucking… sucking… I writhed in their arms. I was their plaything… James rolled me over in the bed and, as he glided his fingers into me once again he bent down and nibbled at my buttocks… while Clarissa positioned herself so that my head rested between her thighs and she opened herself up to me… and my tongue slid out to flicker at the folds behind her aperture which she widened for me…

I went mad. I bucked and thrashed. I was all cream and lava and ready once again to erupt… I begged James to he on his back. He consented. Then I squatted above him and introduced his slim prick into me. Clarissa looked glazed and then reached out to revolve my teats, round and round, round and round, so that my torso was dizzy and my hips were in a vertigo… James suddenly arched, and the liquids of his prick spurted within me… I quickly disengaged and took his lingam into my mouth for the rest of his hot steaming flow while Clarissa lapped at me from behind… In a few minutes I was exhausted and once again lying on my back. I wanted to sleep, but neither James nor Clarissa was willing. They were not finished with sex, and I was their instrument. They knelt over me, kissed me all over my body, lapped at me, sucked at me, palpitated their fingers within me so that it wasn't long before I was ready for them again, all three of us sweating, stinking by now from the body secretions, but not caring about the stink, no, wanting it, burying our noses in it, wallowing-these two children have me wallowing in beastliness- God, look at that girl Clarissa, two years younger than her brother, but the hair on her, the black hair between her thighs drives me mad, I curl my fingers in it, I lave it with my mouth, my spittle, her cunt swollen, as big as mine… and there's a moment when the two of them, James and Clarissa, are between my legs, James with his cock in me and Clarissa with her fingers beside her brother's prick… That was the climax. It was not long after that they slipped out of my chambers… I cannot go on in this fashion. My inherent lust now has me a sexual slavey to two children. I have gone through this so many times with my contemporaries, with men and women older than I; with men and women of my years. But now, to have descended to the ultimate depravity of carnal knowledge with children-I've gone too far. I must be punished. If James and Clarissa were not corrupted before I came on the scene, I certainly must have provided the completing strokes. There is no other conclusion to be drawn: I am an animal, I am a beast of the field-and I do not belong with the human species. It is possible I do not belong with any species… The above was the last entry in Angela Cleves' journal. I trust her soul, or whatever substance it is in us that may make us unique, is somewhere at rest, and that it is convinced it once belonged to the “human species.” As for the validity of Cleves' other conclusions, in all fairness I believe that should be left to the reader.