Ron Bywood - Beast humping

CASE 5: Julia C.

I was introduced to Julia in a luncheonette booth where she was surrounded by a motley collection of her friends and fans of all ages, sexes and colors.

"I hear you wanted to interview me," she said. "What's it for?" somebody asked, "Indoor Sports Illustrated?"

They all seemed to think that was pretty funny. I didn't know just how to approach the subject I had in mind to her. Even without the crowd in attendance and in spite of her wild reputation, I couldn't very well ask a strange girl bluntly, "Is it true that you fuck dogs at parties?"

I tried to arrange a private interview session with her for a later time but the best I could get from her in her dreamy high condition was an invitation to "see me at the bash tonight." I figured I'd have to settle for that for the time being. At the 'bash' maybe I'd be able to corner her and get her talking, or maybe I'd even get to see her do her famous dog act in person if I was lucky.

It turned out to be no ordinary party but a staged affair, specially set up to be filmed for an underground movie. I felt a bit freaky myself when I walked in, being the only one present in a business suit. The costumes generally were pretty far over the line on the nude side – with most of the girls covered more by paint, spangles and pasted-on flowers than by clothes. The music was pounding – lights flashing – and everyone, dutifully writhing about in primitive dance movements while a couple of hairy camera men roamed the floor, shooting orgiastic close-ups of them all, mostly at tit and crotch level.

I found Julia stretched out flat in a corner under a cloud of blue pot-smoke of her own making.

"Why aren't you in the movie?" I said, inhaling a cautious noseful of her heady exhaust fumes.

She laughed dreamily. Her big beautiful eyes didn't seem to be quite focusing on me. "My big scene comes later," she said. "Stick around."

She had on an over-sized T-shirt like a mini-dress, with a man's necktie around the waist as a sash. I got the impression that she was not wearing anything at all underneath it, but I couldn't be sure in the dim light. Then something stirred behind her and I noticed for the first time a little dirty-grey mop of a poodle lying there. He was staring up at me with one blurry eye and I would have sworn that the dog was as stoned as she was.

"You brought your dog along I see," I said.

"That's what you came for, wasn't it?" she said, "to meet the dog act?"

I laughed nervously. "Did they tell you the subject of my book?"

"Bestial practices, isn't it? That's my thing, baby. Me and Sir Clarence."

"Er – what do you – you and Clarence – how do you…?" I didn't know quite how to phrase the question.

"Are they actually going to film you and the dog – er – in action?" I asked.

"Shit yeah. Why not? It's the grand Technicolor climax of the whole mother-fucking movie."

"Aren't you afraid if getting in trouble by putting yourself on record that way? Making it with dog is sort of illegal, you know."

She laughed and patted Clarence's belly. "Everything I do is illegal. It's the only way to live." She punctuated her point by blowing a cloud of highly illegal smoke up into my face.

Just then a very large Afro American bruiser appeared from nowhere and gave me what I took to be an unfriendly size-up. I figured he must be one of the poet slave-masters I'd heard about, although he looked more like a middle linebacker than a bard. He snapped his fingers at Julia. "Come on – up. Let's go. They're ready for you and you ain't ready."

She sprang up and the dog popped up with her. The black man took hold of her T-shirt and peeled it up over her head, which left her naked as a jaybird just as I expected. Both her breasts – round and firm and beautiful – had been painted blue, and there were arrows running down from them across her ribs and belly, pointing towards her pussy, which was shaved bald. Otherwise there was just acres and acres of beautiful golden naked skin, as far the eye could see.

Her black master clapped a possessive hand onto her ass and said harshly, "You better not muck up the deal, baby, or you know what you get."

She picked up the poodle and hugged it to her breasts. "He'll be all right tonight," she said. "He's too stoned to be scared. We'll give them a complete show, don't worry."

"Oh, I ain't worrying, baby," he said, giving her ass-cheek a hard grab and a twist. "I leave that to you."

The music had quit now and the lights all of a sudden came up brighter. "We're ready for the dog-act," somebody yelled out.

The black man slapped Julia and she gave me a wink and went skipping off in the bright light, clutching her woolly lover tight to her with his head perched up between her bobbing boobs.

I moved off to find myself a seat where I could be out of the way of the bustling technicians but still get a good ringside view of whatever act of shameless bestiality was about to unfold.

A character with a handlebar moustache and a purple scarf who I took to be the director was at center stage under cloud of cigar smoke.

"Right here," he yelled at Julia in a startling, near-soprano voice. "The camera's centered on this spot, so keep your dirtiest action in this area, give or take a yard two."

Julia moved into the light beside him and they went into a conference together, with the director patting and stroking either the dog's head or one of her blue boobs – it was hard to tell which from where stood. Then he backed off, leaving her there alone with her little dog. The other kids took positions on the floor around her in a semi-circle, acting the part of her audience.

"Okay, baby," the director called out. "As soon as the camera's rolling you just go into your thing. We'll keep on shooting continuously – two cameras covering the whole scene long shot and close-up – let's get it all in one take."

"You better," she said. "Clarence might not hold up if you want re-takes. He's a one-shot man."

The director held up his hand and yelled, "Okay, we're rolling – and GO!"

Julia set the dog down and he trotted away from her, out of the circle of light. Then she took a cigarette that someone handed her and struck a "prostitute on a street corner" pose, with hand on out-thrust hip.

A boy came walking in, wearing a large cardboard fig-leaf. He stopped, eyed Julia up and down, circled around her once, and then raising up his fig-leaf and flipped his red-painted prick at her in a hip-bump.

She put her nose in the air and turned away from him in scorn. He shrugged, bumped his blue ass towards her disdainfully and moved away.

Then Lord Clarence the poodle came high stepping in. He stopped just like the boy had done, cocked his head and looked her over, and then circled around her once. Julia was absolutely still, ignoring him altogether.

Clarence moved in close to her feet, sniffed around her for a bit, and then all of a sudden he lifted his hind leg, assumed the classic curb-side posture, and began pissing against her ankle. She still held her position but turned her head and glanced down, the dog went on pissing nonchalantly until he was finished and then moved away again and sat down nearby to watch her.

Julia looked down at the puddle she was standing in now and she wiggled her toes about, sloshing them in the piss-pool. Then bent down and dipped her hands into it and began dabbing her ear-lobes and neck and boobs and underarms as if it were some kind of dainty perfume. Finally she put a finger into her mouth and licked it, sampling the flavor, and she smiled down approvingly at Clarence. He sat up then in a begging position and began wagging his tail, and Julia turned sideways and wiggled her tail at him.

After that they circled around each other a couple more times and then Julia got down on hands and knees and they moved in close and sniffed each other's noses. Clarence ran around behind her and took a sniff of her ass, and then she bent down and did the same thing to him. They were making quite a production out of it. It was going to be something brand new for the movies, by all indications. And the action hadn't even begun yet. So far I'd have given it an 'R' rating – not recommended for children under sixteen.