Bestial Lust – A True History

(N.B. This is a true story. As such it won’t be written in the adjective-rich style of erotica, but more in a narrative sense. Also, I obviously don’t remember all of these events in exact detail. All of what is written is factual, but where I don’t remember every single thought I had or every single movement I made, I filled in the suitable information as best I could.)

I don’t know exactly when it was that I began to have an interest in bestiality. I never knew it was called that, or even that there were other people who practised it, when I became aware of it in myself. Just as I do not know when, I do not know why. I have been interested in dogs as sexual partners from a young age, but contrariwise, I was more of a ‘cat person’. I have no reason to believe that I had any kind of sexual encounters when I was young, whether from animals or humans, so that rules out sexual abuse. Perhaps it is only because while I am not a very sexual person, I have always been sexually aware, having genuine interest in the opposite sex since the tender age of 5. Perhaps my sexual frustration was projected onto my canine friends… who knows?

The first dog I ever knew was a bitch named Minnie, an Airedale, and the family dog. She was already getting old by the time I was born, and died when I was five or six years old. I never had any sexual experiences with her, and I hardly even remember her, but I sense that it may be how it all started for me. For one thing, my father, normally so strict and fearsome, loved Minnie with all his heart. The only time I have ever seen my father cry was when Minnie had to be put down, a result of illness from her old age. It only occurred to me a few years ago that perhaps my father’s love for her ran deeper than what is considered ‘normal’ adoration for a pet. I still don’t know if this thought disturbs me or reassures me. This could explain my own orientation.

Within a year or so of Minnie’s death, my parents brought home a kitten, a purebred of Oriental descent, and named her Coco. When I was around 8 years old, I (to my shame) tried to gently persuade Coco to lick my pussy, but to no avail. Instead I took some Q-tips and inserted them into her little hole to see how she would react. She seemed nonplussed by this, and I desisted because she didn’t react the way I was hoping, and anyway, I felt bad for doing so.

On that note, now is probably the time to mention that while I believe that animals can have vastly differing personalities, just like humans – which most people believe – I also believe that animals can have a deeper understanding of things, an almost humanlike quality to them. I don’t know quite how to explain this properly without sounding idiotic or irrational, but anyone who has a deep love for animals, sexual or non-sexual, should understand what I mean. I could never use an animal just for its body, and indeed I find the pornography in which girls use dogs like little more than living dildos repulsive and anathematic for that very reason. Just as I would feel ashamed for fucking someone I hardly knew, I would feel ashamed for fucking an animal without getting to know it first.

Maybe a year later I had a sleepover at a friend’s house. She had a lovely pet Staffy who was friendly and playful. At night when we were sitting around watching movies, her Staffy (whose name I don’t remember) charged into the room with his red cock fully erect. Being all of us young, we squealed and laughed and said how gross it was, and pushed him away. When everyone was asleep that night, I gave him a hand job.

When I was ten or so, two things happened. First of all, my family got another dog: a White Shepherd rescued from an animal shelter. He wasn’t de-sexed, had no name, and we were unsure as to how old he was. We named him Merlin. The second thing that happened is that I started horse riding, and with it came a deep and intense love for horses. At that time the closest I had ever come to sexual contact with a horse was handling a horse’s cock – not sexually, I was cleaning his genitals. The only time anything sexual occurred to me around horses was when, on a long trail ride, a seam of my jeans was pressing into my clit. I was surreptitiously grinding myself on the saddle for about 10 minutes but didn’t manage to come.

I continued horse riding for three or four years. During that time, when I was about 12, I chanced upon my first mention of bestiality while checking my email. There it was, sitting in my junk folder: ‘Horny teen farm girl fucks a horse with a 12 inch cock!’ I wondered if that was possible. Then I started thinking about the sizes of all the horse cocks I’d seen. I’d never really noticed them before, apart from the occasional immature and embarrassed titter when one of the geldings would random get an erection. I opened the email and stared at the pictures of girls with these enormous dicks filling up their holes, and almost immediately my hand went down to rub myself. Being twelve I was of course a virgin. I’d sometimes fingered or teased myself absently, but I never came. Staring at those girls, their faces twisted in ecstasy, and the beautiful, long cocks thrusting into them, I was jealous and insanely turned on. Rubbing my clit didn’t help, it never felt good enough to bring me to climax, and I needed some way to relieve all that young sexual tension.

That’s how I remembered that when I was much younger, my sister and I used to shower together.