Roger Hornsby - The sex procurer

Then we paraded Esel to the center of the floor, Lucy went onto her knees in front of him, and they both went to work. The donkey tongued her twat nicely, really lapping her crotch. The crowd went wild. They hooted and howled, behaved as if they'd go through the ceiling on a vast track of sound, and loved everything they saw.

She turned around when her first come had arrived, broke his cunt-lapping, and began tonguing his big yang. He responded as always, wildly, pawing the floor, neighing, wanting badly to ride to a come. Then, when, reflexively, he tried to raise his forefeet onto something, as he had done in training sessions on our bed at home, Lucy turned around, her behind to the animal, and I placed his hooves on her back and readied him close in for the action.

But the damndest thing happened. In his wild rush to enter her, he started into the wrong hole. At first I tried to stop him. But have you ever tried to stop a donkey when he makes up his mind to do something? Besides, I suddenly saw the beauty of it, and I even patted his ass, saying: "Go to it, Esel boy, and the best of luck."

She screamed. "No!!!!" she yelled. "Please, no!!" and she went into a lurch, trying to break free from him. But I held her tightly, and several of the guys in the crowd helped me, and Esel went smack into her bunghole, ramming her fantastically. She screamed again and again, damned near fainted but took that beast up her can.

And in and in he went. It was unbelievable to watch. He just kept driving his dick like a violent wedge deeper and deeper into her behind, inserting his long hard thick yang up into her bowels. Her screams truly were bloodcurdling, and she fell forward, her cheek to the floor, unable to support herself on her elbows more, so great was the strain.

And Esel just kept going higher and higher into her asshole. It was unbelievable to watch how far he penetrated her. He just kept going forever.

It was more beautiful than if I had planned it. The crowd went absolutely insane. They clapped, shouted, hooted, hollered, whistled, stomped, rose on their feet and went insane, wholly insane. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Then the animal began withdrawing, pumping, shoving and pulling back, ramming her and pulling away, savagely rocking her ass with that immense prick. He gave her everything there was to give, and she finally fainted. She couldn't stand it any longer, and in the middle of a yell, she fainted, him solidly in a new plunge all the way into her intestine.

I kicked her for fainting. I kicked her face hard. "Bitch," I shouted. "The least you could have done was stay conscious. You lousy bitch." And I kicked her again. The crowd loved it. They loved seeing her kicked and fucked simultaneously, and some of the guys who had been holding her tried kicking her too. They went after her in a fury, and they bludgeoned her body with their violence. It was a lovely sight to behold, trust me; truly lovely.

Then we propped up her body so that Esel could continue his fuck. And the animal did a great job. He walloped her bunghole with everything he had in him, and he sent her sprawling with every lunge so that we constantly had to prop her again for a new lunge; and finally we simply held her while he moved to his come.

Talk about your comes, too. You never saw anything like what he gave her. I guess it was tighter than he ever had known a hole could be, and he must have been so overjoyed that, done his come, he simply howled in the most chilling neigh in the world, baying at the ceiling from his good joy. And then he began fucking her again.

That's the truth. He wasn't done yet. In starting to pull out from her, the friction was so great on his dong apparently that he began all over again, banging her solidly for a new coming, jazzing her with a fanaticism that belongs to the great missionaries. He applied so much zeal into his task that he was damned near human. And all the while we had to keep her propped.

It was fantastic.

And it still wasn't done. When Esel was finally out from her asshole, the crowd, in a single yelp, came at me. "Let us, now," they yelled. "Let us now." And they were a mob, a fevering mob. And several of the lead men even had their pricks out already begging to stud her. I looked at that row of massive hardens at the front of the mob, and I couldn't turn them away.

"Go to it," I said, "and you have my blessings." I laughed. Then, with the help of those others who had held her, we turned her over onto her back. She was still unconscious. Somebody brought water and threw it in her face. She woke. We spread her legs. She looked up to see the first guy climbing down between her thighs. She screamed and tried to force him away. I kicked her face when she did that and her head flopped to one side, and she went into a howl. The guy topped her, anyway.

They lined up to fuck her. I went down the row, taking a price from each of them. They paid gladly the fee I named, and they held their cocks waiting their turns. She fainted again, of course, and they studded her while she was unconscious. One after another they studded her, and each came to a wild good come. I thought of all that jism piling up inside of her, and finally I brought Esel back to the scene and had him lick her cunt clean between a couple of takes.

But those guys didn't give a shit. All they wanted to do was fuck her. They could care less whose come was already in her. They sloshed around in their buddies' juices and had a helluva good time. It was the greatest, believe me.

And then it was time to get rid of her. She had served her purpose, and it was time to get rid of her.

I wanted something different, anyway. After awhile you get tired of all the goodie-goodie girls. You've prostituted the bitches to that point where you know the score on every one of them. You know their bullshit backward and forward. You know they lie, and that they're not worth a good damn in hell. You want something else to work on. Something to spice life a bit.

So I started prowling again. I drove here and there, eyeing the quail, figuring what they were worth, making a bet with myself how much it would take to make them; that is, money and time. How little would I have to spend before I got into their boxes and how soon could I make it? It was strictly a diversion while I worked up my big plan.

Let me tell you right now, and I know you know this already: it doesn't take long to make a cunt. It strictly depends on the situation. And as far as money is concerned, the same thing holds true. If the situation is right, you can be penniless; they'll fuck.

Situation; that's the all-important thing, and I was always trying to work out the right one. First, of course, it usually helps if you've known them awhile. Dig that. Awhile! Five minutes? Sometimes it doesn't take longer. But first, anyway, you bullshit about some stupid thing that's supposed to be of mutual interest. You talk about the weather or a movie or something in the news. And then you take it from there with a variety of ploys. It doesn't matter what you talk about; the road ahead is already clear once you've made that initial conversational breakthrough.

And you'd be surprised how many broads are dying to be talked to. You sit beside them in the bus, and they pretend to be busy with a book they're reading; and yet the minute you say something to them, they're more than happy to forget all about that book and concentrate on you. The same thing is true in libraries or in parks or wherever the chance exists to line them up. They're all willing and eager.

After that, it's situation again, pure and simple. Get them in a close spot, alone, nobody knowing what's happening, and they'll put out every time. It never fails. Oh, some of them hesitate, and they all make like they're cherries who've never seen a dick in their lives. But if you have a big yang waiting for them, they'll take it, trust me, if the situation is right.