Chapter 6: Charlie Tells a Tale

I walked through the dark curtain at the side of the stage, my dress held limply in my right hand, my left hand brushing back loose tendrils of my hair. I was overjoyed to see my Ed and Charlie there waiting for me.

“Oh my god honey, that was absolutely fucking fantastic!” Ed smiled at me. I frowned at his vulgar language, but accepted the compliment as graciously as I could. It’s not the sort of thing your training in manners prepares you for, if you think about it for a minute. How do you acknowledge your husband and an almost-stranger giving you smiling thumbs-ups, while you stand in front of them pretty much nude, with dog semen making snail trails down both thighs and the cloying taste of that same dog’s metallic cum lingering on your tongue? It’s something that Ann Landers never covered. So maybe I’m breaking new ground here.

I held onto Ed’s shoulder as I stepped into my dress and pulled it up over my hips and wriggled the top up over my boobs.

“Holy hell, Ed, what did I just do out there?” came out in a nervous laugh. “I never ever in my life did something like that!”

“Barbara, let me just say that that was one of the most astounding performances I’ve ever seen here, and I know that everyone out there was absolutely stunned.” Charlie leaned in to kiss my cheek, evidently not squeamish about the other moisture on my face. I thanked him with my eyes. “When Hector was ejaculating in your mouth, and you swallowed every time, why I swear the people on my row were transfixed with awe!”

I said, “What about those 2 beautiful men? Nobody told me there’d be a couple of gorgeous hunks on stage with me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. And the girls – where do you find such beautiful people? They looked like models.”

“Well, actually, they’re full time employees here. Let’s go have a drink and I’ll fill you in on our story here.” Charlie said, extending an arm to us. We followed him down a short hallway and around a corner, where we were ushered into a lushly furnished den with a roaring fireplace, oriental rugs below our feet, and floor-to-ceiling windows framing the majestic mountains off in the distance. The room smelled like money. Lots of money. And history.

Ed and I each sat in huge leather-bound wing chairs that looked like they weighed 600 pounds apiece, while Charlie sat on a sofa. Just a few seconds after we sat, a waiter came in with a bottle of champagne and three large flutes, which he set in front of Charlie. He poured us each a glass, and I sipped mine slowly, coming down from my sexual high, while he talked.

“About 35 years ago, a very wealthy man in Hungary formed a small club, I guess you’d call it, composed of other fairly well-to-do people like him, who all shared a passion – a passion composed solely of watching other people perform in bestial lovemaking. With their wealth and power, they could afford to seek out like-minded souls, who would meet every now and then at a private residence of one of their members, and the entire evening would be spent watching sex acts between lovely women and various types of beasts. Gradually, women who craved this sort of fetish were able to seek out the club members and offer their services, so to speak, as performers. Their privacy and safety were assured, and they got to mingle with the rich and powerful of their society. The members kept the club extremely quiet and exclusive, and there were never more than a few dozen who knew of its’ existence. Many of the women ended up marrying single club members, so it was a win-win for all involved.”

“One of the members came to this country about 12 years ago and formed a US branch of the club, if you will. Laws being what they are here, he had to be even more circumspect than they did in eastern Europe of course, but he also found that political contributions made to the right people at the right time helped to keep the club underground, safe, and pretty much immune from legal troubles. They bought this lodge five years ago, and we meet here about ten times a year. Our members are, for the most part, from all walks of life, but are men and women with enough money and power to indulge their fantasies without risk of harm or danger. As a sort of ‘community service’, the club also donates a huge amount of money to animal shelters all across the country, especially no-kill shelters that need money to keep their charges alive, and veterinary schools, and various other charities that promote the health and well-being of our four-footed friends.”

“Is it just women and dogs?” Ed asked.

Charlie was silent for a moment. “For the most part, yes. Considering the logistics of performing with other species, it’s just far more common, and easier, to deal with canine partners. We have had a few exceptions...” his voice trailed off.

“Do tell!” said Ed excitedly.

Charlie paused for a minute to take a long sip of his drink, and he was silent. All we could hear was the ticking of the loud grandfather clock in one corner of the paneled room, and the fizzing of the champagne. After a long pause, he started talking again.

“One of our members has a cattle ranch in Florida, and also one in Argentina. He keeps horses at both locations, and there have been a few members who’ve expressed an interest in either watching, or performing, with equine partners. Perhaps the most memorable of those was an event that took place outside of Buenos Aires two years ago. The wife of one of our members admitted that she’d always wanted to experience a pony or small horse, if not vaginally then at least, umm, manually. Our host suggested that she come down to Argentina over the holidays and meet one of his smaller stallions, a horse that he assured us was calm and gentle.”

“About a dozen of us flew down there. He met us at the airport and we followed him to his place maybe 25 miles out of town. There was me, Sam Washburn and his wife Eloise who had asked for the experience, Richard Gilchrist and his wife Sandra, Bill O’Donnell and his wife Gloria, Nancy Davis, one of the few single women in the group by the way, Dave Ritchie and his wife Debby, Martin Thomas and, get this, his DAUGHTER, Kit. As far as I know, they were the only father-daughter pair in the group, although I know that there are several women in the club as a guest of an uncle, including one fabulous red-head named Colleen. In any case, we arrived at his hacienda late in the afternoon, and were treated to a fabulous barbeque cooked up by his chef and some other of the ranch hands. I started talking to Gloria, who was, and is, a fabulously attractive and highly educated woman of about 55. She’d been involved in pet love since her late teens, she told me, and had divorced her first husband when he refused to share her with their Irish Setter. She got two homes, half the wealth, and the Setter in the settlement. She’d never had relations with a horse, and was anxious to see how Eloise handled the situation, because she said she might want to at least TRY it if it seemed a viable proposition.”

We all paused to take a drink. My throat had inexplicably gotten dry during Charlie’s monologue, and I was really curious myself about what happened on his trip.

“The next morning, we all went out to one of Alberto’s barns after a big breakfast, a breakfast that I noted was passed over by Eloise. One of the conversations over the table was the mechanics of a horse’s ejaculation, and we got a very thorough education by the ranch’s head wrangler. It seems that most of their stallions are used to mounting a dummy mare for collection of the semen which they sell to AI concerns. Only about one out of ten mounts are done with an actual live mare. The horses are washed and inspected carefully to ensure that there is nothing that could degrade the quality of the semen collected, and in over 17 years, they’ve never had a problem reported by any of the labs that purchase their output. He showed us samples of the collection sleeves they sometimes use to receive the sperm.”

I was curious. “How much does a horse cum, usually?” I asked him.

“Well, it varies, obviously, from horse to horse and from time to time, but we were told that the average is about 50 to 75 milliliters, but some especially virile stallions can shoot as much as 350 milliliters – that’s nearly one and a half full cups, or 12 ounces. Interestingly enough, there can be up to 600 MILLION sperm cells in a typical horse ejaculation. This does not count, of course, the lubricating pre-ejaculate than can easily match the volume of the semen itself, or the gel that comes after the semen, that’s usually discarded when collecting. Its purpose is to lock the semen inside the live mare when that’s the process, but of course it’s of no use in artificial insemination.”

I had stop and think about that. My god. Two cups or more of cum. I think I’d drown.