Archive-name: Bestial/jo.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Jo

    The following is one of the reponses Nancy Friday received
when she set out to find women willing to share their sexual
fantasies, as part of the research on a book about what, why,
when, and where women fantasize.  It is an excellent book.  Not
just erotic but informative, both for men and women.  The book
was first published in 1973 and its ISBN number is 0-671-82575-5.
    This entry is from the "The House Of Fantasy" chapter of the
book, in the section called "Room Number Eleven:  The Zoo".

===============================================================

    Jo

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

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