Ron Bywood - Beast humping

I got my whole hand in there, finally and started to ease it in and out slow and easy, and she was sort of twitching and fidgeting now and swatting hell out of me with her tail and trying to shuffle her hind feet, but Pedro had a good grip on her.

When she started shaking her head up and down and bleating to beat hell. "Ma-a-a – ma-a-a-a!" That did it. Mama got the message and this big fierce-looking black and white cow took a couple of steps our way and let out a moo that would wake the dead.

Bessie squealed and yelled, "Watch it I think she's coming for us."

"You're a woman," I said. "You talk to her. Tell her it's okay."

Bessie yelled at the cow, "Moo-oo-mo-oo!"

That seemed to confuse her and she backed off again.

Pedro laughed, "Whatever you said to her, it must've been the right thing."

I figured now was the time if I ever was going to get it into this little fucker's cunt and be done with it. "Hang on you bastards," I said. "Hang on. Here goes nothing."

I stepped up behind the calf gave my prick a couple of hard strokes to firm it up, and the laid it on that little slit right where my fingers had been and eased the head of it very carefully inside. It went in as easy as the fingers had. I felt the warm soft snatch clutch onto it – a real pleasant feeling actually. I began to think that this might turn out to be a groovier piece of action than maybe I'd figured on, once I got all the way in. I put the pressure on and pushed forward from the hips as hard as I could, but slow and easy still, and inch-by-inch that sweet little the Goddamn cow-twat swallowed my prick right up to the Goddamn root.

"Hey man, I'm in!" I said.

"Pump her – pump her, Goddamn-it," Pedro hollered.

I gave it a couple of easy pokes and then started riding it in and out quicker and quicker as I worked into a groove. Now the calf began twitching like she had the itch – shuddering all over – and she was raising a hell of a racket. "Ma-a-a-ma-a-a!!" or words to that effect.

And then, by God, it seemed like every fucking cow in the whole fucking field started bellowing all at once. Jeezus, what a racket!

I was beginning to get warm feelings in the gonads about then and so I pumped all the harder, trying to get my nuts off before something happened to interrupt thing but I didn't quite make it. All of a sudden everything happened at once. The heifer freaked-out completely and in one violent twist she broke free from Pedro's arms and my prick all at the same time. I wound up with my pecker hanging loose in the open air, halfway to orgasm, and I got a wicked kick on the kneecap besides, that damn near broke my fucking leg.

The calf went prancing off away from me with Bessie still hanging onto her neck, all sprawled out, her legs flying in the air, screeching bloody murder.

Pedro was yelling to her, "Let go! Let go!" But she was hanging on with a death-grip, scared shit-less.

With all the cows in the damn field starting to mill around now – every one of them bellowing their heads off – it looked like we were about to get caught in the middle of the Goddamndest stampede you ever saw.

And then the final blow. "Oh shit," Pedro yelled. "There's a truck coming up the hill. Let's get the fuck out of here."

There sure was a truck. A little pick-up with at least three men in it, coming to find out who the hell was raping their cows. I made a grab for my pants and started running and trying to pull them on all at the same time.

Pedro was yelling, "Wait! Wait for Bessie."

I'm thinking, Fuck Bessie. If we got caught, I was the sucker that was gonna get hung for this little caper. So I kept running as fast I could with my drooping drawers round my busted kneecap, and once I got the pants up and fastened I made it to the car with plenty to spare. The only trouble was, Pedro had gone back to rescue Bessie and he had the car-keys in his Goddamn pocket.

So what could I do? The guys from the truck had already grabbed bare-ass Bessie. She was giving them a pretty good battle and screeching her head off, but they had her captured and Pedro too. The game was up, as they say.

So I took a deep breath and said a prayer and then started back up the pasture join the crowd. I was hoping was that those guys hadn't noticed me screwing their calf. Farmers don't take kindly that shit – I know from experience. A man might have his dick into his own cows and sheep and pigs and every other damn animal in sight, but he doesn't like anybody else messing around his livestock – any more than he wants them screwing his wife or daughter.

But they'd seen me at it all right. They been watching us the whole time with binoculars, the Goddamn perverts, and they had me dead to rights. They could've locked up my ass and thrown away the key forever if they'd wanted to press it. But lucky for me they turned out to be reasonable men.

They took what money we had on us to pay for "damages" and beyond that they settled for one bump a piece with Bessie. I guess they figured that we fucked their cow and so now it was their turn to fuck ours.

Pedro put up a fuss about it, but they told him it was either that or jail. We'd already tried jail one time and we didn't want to go through that shit again. Anyhow, I didn't hear any serious objections from Bessie about paying her forfeit. Any time that chick could save her ass from trouble just by giving somebody a fast hump or a suck-off, she figured she was getting off easy.

So the guys spread out a blanket in the back of the truck and had their turns with her, and they sure took their sweet time at it too. But that was Bessie's fault more than theirs. There was no such thing as a quickie with that chick. You might say she took pride in her craft and so never turned away a client unsatisfied. So she gave those four horny hillbillies the full treatment – screw, blew and tattoo – and left them all laughing and full of kind feelings, which I was mighty happy to see.

It was sundown when we finally wrapped up and got the hell out of there. The cows were all back in the barn with their lawful guardians, having their udders jerked and, squeezed and submitting to who knows what other acts of bestial depravity.

Nobody in our crowd was talking much.

Finally I said, "Man, we were lucky to get out of there as easy as we did. I've known cow-fuckers to get put away for ten years or more back home. That no laughing matter around farm country. The next time you mother-fuckers want to somebody screw a cow, include me out – okay?"

Pedro mumbled, "Those Goddamn hillbilly pricks. They had no right to act like that. They're nothing but a bunch of animals themselves, raping a helpless girl that way. If they hadn't had that gun with them, by God, I'd have beat the crap out of them."

Bessie said, "What's everybody bitching about? Everything worked out great in the end, didn't it?"

And I guess that was true as far as she was concerned. She'd got what she craved out of it, that was for sure. And just to round off her day – since I never had got to finish my business with that heifer – I let Bessie polish off my prick there on the back seat in her own inimitable way. Her cunt didn't exactly clamp down and grab hold of my member the way the calf's did, but screwing Bessie's friendly fuck-hole was a hell of a lot less nerve-racking experience – that's for sure.

And since that time all the beasts I've put it into have been the two-legged human variety – you can bet your sweet ass on that. As far as I'm concerned, animals are for the birds.

Chapter deleted from this copy. Contained slaughter of birds and murder.

A young friend of mine, when he heard I was surveying the subject of bestiality, suggested that I to check out a freaky chick of his acquaintance who had been known to perform wild stunts with a small dog at parties and other social gatherings. I looked into the matter and came across Julia, a beautiful, twentyish fugitive from the love-generation. She had dropped out of high school and split from home at seventeen and in the two or three years since then set some kind of world's record for variety of sexual couplings on her whirl-wind wanderings – making the grand tour of hippie colonies and crash-pads from coast to coast. She was presently reported to be living as a "voluntary white-slave" with a pair of unemployed black poets.