WHAT!!!!  ARE YOU KIDDING!

The word “bestiality” sends shivers through me.  It brings up images of things I find abhorrent.  According to Webster, bestiality is defined as:

1. The quality or condition of being an animal or like an animal.

2. Conduct or an action marked by depravity or brutality.

3. Sexual relations between a human and an animal.

It is number 3 I am going to focus on.  We are all appalled by the thought, are we not?  But when I posted about tentacle sex, everyone (including myself) sort of shrugged and had an open discussion about it.  Tentacle sex is bestiality, yet we all seemed to accept it as a fantasy.

Now think about alien sex.  I remember reading about a porn movie in which a space helmet was put on the head of a “gorilla” and that gorilla engaged in sex with a woman.  It was not considered bestiality because the “gorilla” was an alien.  What if the alien was a goat or a donkey?  We’d all be shocked (I would at least).

So what is acceptable in the realm of bestiality and what is not?  If you had asked me before I read the passages that follow, or before I thought about tentacle sex, I would have said-NOTHING!

But-and this is the difference between real writers and me-the following is bestiality in every sense of the word but so well-written that it is arousing.

This is from the “Mayan Calendar girls”, a book so fantastic that I cannot praise it enough.  You can read chapters here:  http://mayancalendargirls.com/wp/

But, please comment on the subject of bestiality itself.  Let’s have a discussion about it along with alien sex and whatever else applies.  Enjoy this (I hope) and comment PLEASE:

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SLEEP WITH THE FISHES (FROM MAYAN CALENDAR GIRLS)

As soon as she moved away from the fence, they were all around her. Twenty three healthy bottle-nosed dolphins. Already her friends. Over half of them males that she knew by name, sight and touch. Already her lovers. But now she’d come to make that a reality.

She felt more bodies sliding against hers, smooth muscles under skin as taut and slick as a wet watermelon. She heard their short, fluty breathing, reached out to stroke them their moving forms. The beauty of it, the power, the sensual overload. Her breathing quickened, fluttered.

She felt stubby noses nudging the soles of her bare feet. The signal for her to spread her legs and let them bear her up and noseride her across the pool. Not tonight: she’d have to be quiet. One more love that dare not show its face in sunlight. But she kept her legs spread anyway, keeping her face above water with helical movements of her hands. She felt Bruto brush by in front of her and threw her arms around his torso, thrilling in his sleek, wet glide through her embrace. This was the way to discover dolphins, by God.

A flank slid under her left foot, slick and insinuating. Something about the way it flexed told her it was Mayab, her favorite female. Then Caruso cruised between her legs, a smooth force on her inner thighs. She clamped onto him and he waggled salaciously. At the last moment of his transit her flipped on his side and the tip of his right fluke brushed her pubic hairs. She caught her breath, felt a hot flush in the cool water. No wet suit needed, she thought, I can get plenty wet with no suit.

Then she felt a blunt nose, the size of soup can, smooth as a wet dildo, bumping against her mons. Tap, tap, tap. Sniff, sniff. Yes, Chito, you can come in. Her pheromones must be sifting through the water by now, browsed by the entire clan. She reached down to place her hands on Chito’s head and hunched against his nose. He drove up in a powerful lunge, hoisting her upper body out of the water and tailwalking her twenty feet before letting her slip back down into the water. She dove, heading all the way to the bottom, handstanding in the sand, legs spread like a “Y”. And Cisco surged down and slid between them, pushing her downward, his big thick body thundering across her widening slit. She came to the surface with a gasp that was not all about accessing air.

And Pinoccio moved up under her from behind, bearing her up on his back like a bronco queen, sliding under her, rippling more than necessary. She leaned forward, leaning on his back as it slid under her, then his dorsal fin slipped between her butt cheeks, dragged along her trough, and bore up against her until the last second, when it slipped out, kissing her clit with a little fillip. She was crying now, lost in sensation and emotion, beloved union at long last.

Two of the males moved alongside her hips, mimicking a move from the show. She laid her hands on them, rising up on their support even as they slickered along and vanished into the night water. Then Pinoccio was back, sliding under her again. She spread her legs as wide as she could as he cruised under her saddle, curving upwards as he slowly finned forward. She fell against him, feeling his pale belly skin slipstream along her tight nipples. Then she felt the nudge and knew what it was. She shuddered and moaned.

It didn’t really matter that much: she was getting off on riding their bodies, giving full rein to what she’d always felt around dolphins. But full contact is nice. How many women have actually had a dolphin dick inside them? How many know what they taste like?

The nudging moved on, the final thrust parting the blond thatch on her belly. Not fully extended, she was thinking. Pinoccio, you need to tell more lies. She rolled and dived, grasping him to her, lying on top of his belly with her legs moving up and down along his upper body. And grasped what she had sought. Short, thick, softly firm.

Salty to the taste, but not fishy. Chicken of the sea.

Pinoccio was obviously aroused. And so were other males, zipping in to smooth along her flanks as she kissed and sucked and trembled. She he fell away, looping downward, his alien member sliding out of her mouth. She floated face down, shaking. Her heartbeat, normally as slow as any athlete’s, was racing, pumping heat and pinkness all over her. Her eyes fluttered and she turned her head to breathe and moan. Then he was back, a long traverse of her, his fin moving between legs, then throbbing along her pussy. She coughed, stifled a yell, rolled onto her back as her first orgasm shook her like small craft in a squall. She lay her head back, her hands stoking dreamily below her. And Pinoccio surged up onto her, the way her blasted out of the water onto the platform to splash and delight the damned tourists.

She took a deep inhale as he skidded along her, his flippers caressing her arms, his belly slicking up along her breasts. His penis sliding into her. She almost blacked out as he bore her down under the sea.

She had figured out early on that a dolphin in the throes of sex could easily bear a woman right down to the bottom, even her own exceptional strength and flexibility as nothing compared to his. Could drown her there, maybe thinking her death throes were a faked orgasm. But she felt no risk: dolphins know about life and death in humans and have been observed saving our lives, but never taking them. Unlike the way we treat them.

And in fact she did feel her shoulders touch the bottom as he plunged into her. She just threw her arms around him, fondling the tender spots behind his eyes. And had the biggest orgasm of her life: being powerfully fucked combined with the culmination of a lifetime love, combined with the dangerous rapture of apnea. She was dying, her life shaking itself apart from within, the lights flickering down while colored dazzle wove and flashed across a black expanse of velvet ending. Then he was gone and she floated, rather than swam, to the surface.

She broke the water face first, still rumbling with the orgasm, hot tears trailing off into cold water, her heart stopped, then re-started in a new world, inner muscles tussling and sunfishing, eyes closed to watch the play of light.

Light which suddenly smashed into her eyes, on a wave of raucous noise and squawking. She popped them open and nearly came out of the water in sheer shock. A powerful flashlight was on her face, others playing over her naked body under inches of water. Torches held by the night crew and a dozen of their work buddies, screaming with delight at having caught that stuck-up gringa bitch naked and fucking the fish!

Caught flagranti delicto and still dazed from the peak experience of her love/sex life, Curtsy just gaped for a long moment. A moment richly enjoyed by her male fellow employees, swigging their beers and joints. Only Alfredo wasn’t laughing. He was totally pissed off, like supervisors get. Besides, Toluca had lost.

The futbol fans whooped it up over this unexpected double-header treat, howling with laughter as Curtsy finally reacted. She kipped into a racer’s turn took two butterfly strokes towards the chalk mark and went down. Sickness and shame flooding all over the rapture she’d felt just seconds before, she drove down to find the notch, twisted out through it and angled up towards the top of the outer fence with a strong breast stroke, trungeon kick. She drove upwards with hands extended, and when the hit the top of the fence she surged over it in a sort of modified Fosbury flop. Halogen lanterns highlighted her golden puss as she went over; cheers, jeers and catcalls impelled her. She ignored the suit and cap, just crammed her feet into the monofin and powered off, deep enough to block the light and hateful sound. She was at the beach in three minutes, fin already off as her feet found the chalky bottom, running bareassed to the palm copse where she’d left shorts, shirt and shoes in the basket of her rented motorscooter.

Alfredo’s voice echoed over the water, “You are so fired, Kurtz. Don’t even show your ass here again, ever.”

Román yelled, “No, no, come back Güera. I’ll put on a fin and squeak while I bone you. Just feed me some fish.”