70 lines
3.7 KiB
Plaintext
70 lines
3.7 KiB
Plaintext
Archive-name: Bestial/jo.txt
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Archive-author:
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Archive-title: Jo
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The following is one of the reponses Nancy Friday received
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when she set out to find women willing to share their sexual
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fantasies, as part of the research on a book about what, why,
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when, and where women fantasize. It is an excellent book. Not
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just erotic but informative, both for men and women. The book
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was first published in 1973 and its ISBN number is 0-671-82575-5.
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This entry is from the "The House Of Fantasy" chapter of the
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book, in the section called "Room Number Eleven: The Zoo".
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===============================================================
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Jo
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I often have this fantasy when I'm alone, or with time on my
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hands, or even when I'm making love with my husband.
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I am alone in the house. My husband has left for work. I
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begin my housework downstairs, clearing the dishes from the
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dining room into the kitchen. I take off my nightgown and house-
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coat and work in the nude. While I work, the neighbor's dog
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follows me. He always comes over to visit. I take no notice of
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him, but his wet nose and warm breath move between my legs when-
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ever I pause. Briefly I will let my legs part, and his tongue
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will dart out and lick me while I continue my chores as though he
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weren't even there. I keep moving about, not giving him or me
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too much. Slowly, as if not noticed, I let him have more: now
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two licks, increasing to three, four, his nose burrowed into my
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privates as I allow him to get at me for longer and longer peri-
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ods. Suddenly he tires of the game and stops following, just as
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I have finished cleaning all the downstairs rooms. Except for
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the kitchen. I always save the kitchen for last.
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Quickly I call him as I go into the kitchen, and when he's in I
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close the door so he can't get out. Now I speed up. I don't
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want him to lose interest. I get down a bowl and a box of Betty
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Crocker chocolate cake, my husband's favorite. I mix up the
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batter quickly, and put half the mixture into a cake tin so we'll
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have at least a one-layer cake for dessert that night. The other
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half I smear across my breasts, and as I bend down to put the
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cake in the oven I let the dog lick the batter from my breasts.
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With my finger I scrape up batter and keep spreading it on my
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nipples so that he lingers on them, lapping at them until they
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ache, until I ache. Now I go to the refrigerator, take out the
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butter for the icing, and from the cupboard I take down the sugar
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and a small bottle of Bovril. I sit on the kitchen chair to
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blend the sugar and butter, right beside the kitchen table with
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the bowl in my lap. I smear my cunt inside and out with the
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Bovril, and as I stir the sugar and butter, the dog nestles
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between my legs and licks me. I hug the bowl to me, working on
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it, smoother and smoother. I am slumped in the chair now, my
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legs spread far apart, the large bowl obscuring the dog. The
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warm sweet smell of cake baking fills the kitchen. Inside the
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oven, through the glass partition in the oven door, I can see the
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cake slowly rising. My finger dips again and again into the
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Bovril jar, smearing my cunt so that dog licks hard and harder,
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going from side to side now, excitedly working around me as he
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might worry a bone. The sweet smell of cake fills my head as I
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imagine the bright red thing of the dog's slipping in and out of
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his penis sheath. The cake is getting larger and larger in the
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oven, so that it seems about to fill the oven, to push open the
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door and explode into the room, engulfing us in its sweet warmth.
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I pray that the dog will not stop and that the cake will not
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explode all over my nice clean kitchen before my husband gets
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home, before I am ready, before I have finished, before the dog
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has finished...
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--
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