Chapter 7
Girl and Beast
Of all the unusual cases which are being-discussed in this study of initial sexual experiences, perhaps the following one will strike the greatest number of people as being the most outlandishly bizarre. Nevertheless, it has been fully documented by trained scientific research workers of unquestionable integrity.
When a human being indulges in sexual intercourse for the first time with a member of the opposite sex, there may be cause for considerable excitement on the part of both participants. When a human being has an initial sex experience with another of the same sex, there may even be cause for a certain amount of sensationalism when the facts are put before the general public. But when a human being has the first sexual orgasm of her life in the company of a nonhuman beast, there may be justifiable cause for incredulity-especially when the human happens to be an attractive 18-year-old girl on the threshold of womanhood and the beast happens to be a hairy African male baboon!
Yet this is just what occurred in the case of a lovely missionary's daughter named Diane. Her story has been gleaned from the files of church officials by whom her father was employed, and have been substantiated by the psychiatrist who chronicled the incident in a Tanganyikan hospital where the girl had been hospitalized (not because of her contact with her non-human lover, incidentally, but because of a rather prosaic malaria attack).
The psychiatrist has supplied the following account, in the girl's own words.
My name is Diane and I am 19 years old, Caucasion, and a native-born American. I have lived in the African bush with my father, a missionary, ever since the death of mother when I was 10 years old. I had no living relatives except my father, and the church authorities permitted me to live with him as a sort of "hardship" concession to the usual rules which forbid minor children to live in the more primitive areas of the church's religious domain.
Except for dim recollections of childhood friends I once had in Baltimore, Maryland, I have no memories of any acquaintances of my own age except for a few African Negro children. As a rule, my father would not let me play with kids in the villages. He said they were heathens, that they were not fit company for his daughter, and that, mainly, they would materially harm my acceptance as a child of the Lord if I ever had anything to do with them. The only African children with whom I was ever allowed to be fairly friendly with were the few children who had been personally "saved" by my father's ministry.
Because of this, I was a very lonely child. It seems to me as I think back that I spent most of my adolescent years handing out Bibles and passing around the collection plate at whatever church my father had managed to improvise for the moment. I mention these things because I want you to take everything possible into consideration before passing judgement on my ... activities. You know, it's good for me to talk about this, though. About my life, I mean. About my unusual situation. I know you said that my experiences ... my sexual experiences ... would be important to the scientific world. Well, then I guess that my story will serve an even greater purpose than just allowing me to get it off my chest. That's good. It'll please me if that can help other people, somewhere, to understand themselves better.
I guess I'd better tell you all I think is important. The first thing I'd have to mention, then, would be my father's attitude towards sex. Because it colored my own attitude-for a long time, anyway. See, he believed in the old Hellfire-andBrimstone type of religion. God, he'd kill me if he heard me say that. But it's true. You can ask anybody within 300 miles of Tabora if Father wasn't the biggest religious nut south of the Equator and they'd all tell you "Yes." Except for a few of his congregation-but then, it doesn't do much good to ask one nut his opinion of another one, does it?
When girls my age were attending their first day of junior high and having all the boys ogle them, I was helping my father set up a tent or mashing cassava roots for our supper. I guess it should have been some consolation to me that every black man who ever saw me wanted to touch me because I was white, but my father would never let me have anything to do with them. That was a shame, too, because there were some of them that I definitely would have liked to get to know better.
Maybe if I could have gotten to know a few boys of my own age well, I wouldn't have gotten involved in the situation that I did. I'll .never know. Anyway, I don't consider what I did so bad. But everyone who hears about it seems to think it was terrible.
How should I begin? I guess I should first tell you a little about my general orientation towards sex. I wasn't any stranger to it, in spite of the way my father tried to keep me in the dark. I'd probably seen more naked men and women when I was, say 13 years old, than most American girls see in a lifetime. Most of the natives only wore loin cloths, and even when they did you could always see their penises swinging around when they moved.
And as for the women, most of them went bare-breasted all the time, so there were plenty of them to compare my own developing figure with. I must say that it compared rather well with most of the girls that I saw, if I do say so myself. And when I got my "curse," of course, it was old hat to me. A lot of the Africans made their women go into a special hut for five days when they got the curse, and at least I didn't have to do that. A lot of times I'd see my father staring at some of those nude girls. I know what he must have been thinking, but he would never admit it.
And as far as masturbation goes, that was something very familiar to me too. I'd been seeing boys and girls playing with themselves between the legs for years, and I was so used to it that I never even paid much attention. But that was before I started becoming a woman. Until I was 12 or so, I didn't think any more about a person masturbating themselves than I did about seeing them eat or drink water. It was that common, because in most of the villages where we went, if a person wanted to relieve himself sexually, he would just do it right in full view of everyone. It wasn't considered unusual or out of the ordinary at most of the places we lived.
Except by my father, of course. He made certain that I knew that everyone who did'that was going to go straight to Hell when they died ... and maybe before, to hear him tell it. I suppose that in a way, masturbation is the way I got started on my own sexual life, so I'd better tell you more about my own practices.
Even when I was a pretty little kid of 11 or 12 I had already begun to disbelieve a lot of the crap my father was always telling me about going to Hell and getting saved and all of that. You'll have to excuse me if I use any terms that you don't consider ladylike, Doctor, but I'm used to keeping it all in just because I haven't usually had anyone to talk to. So now that I'm able to speak freely, I'd like to do just that, if you don't mind. Just because I never used language like that in front of my father doesn't mean that I never knew the words-just that I knew that I'd get a two-hour lecture on how evil I was if I slipped and said "damn" or "hell." And if I had ever said "fuck" in front of my father, he would probably have smacked me senseless. I was kind of lucky on that score, though. I can give Father credit for only a few things, and I must say, he very rarely laid a hand on me. That was part of his religion, too. He didn't believe in giving kids spankings.
But back to my . .-. to when I started playing with myself. I'd seen enough kids do it so that I knew all about how it was done. All I lacked was the desire, and when I got to be 12 or so I acquired that too. The first time was when we were camped out in the jungle and I was sent to go and get some water. There were some little spider monkeys hanging around the spring where I went to get the water, and they were pulling all kind of shenanigans. I'd watched monkeys a lot before, but on this particular day I was especially interested in seeing them. I'd even seen them masturbate before. Anyone has seen them do that who has ever watched monkeys for any length of time, because that's about all they do most of the time. Even city people have seen it if they've ever been to a zoo.
As I watched them cavort around the low vines and trees near the spring, two males were hanging by their tails sniffing the bottom of a female monkey, and they were really going at it I mean their little hands were moving so fast on their penises that it was just a blur. Looking at their little penises began to sort of mesmerize me, I guess, because I sat down the water bucket and just stared at them for a long time. No one was around and I knew I was safe from being observed by anyone. I guess that same knowledge of privacy was what made me do what I did afterward.
Anyway, in a few minutes I realized that I had let my hand drop down between my legs and that I was toying with the area around my pussy. Now I don't know what I should call this when I'm talking to you, Doctor, but I think of it as just my pussy, so I don't see any reason why I should call it my "vulva," my "sexual organs" or any of that shit. A pussy is a pussy, plain and simple. Like I said, I was starting to very gingerly feel myself up as I was watching these two monkeys jacking off and I was gradually making myself feel very good. Just then one of the monkeys turned toward me and began to look at me about as hard as I was looking at them. I think he smelled me, if you want to know the truth ... he smelled my pussy juice. Even at that age I was pretty well lubricated when I got myself hot enough, I guess, even though I hadn't played with myself too much up to then.
While me and this monkey were both going to town rubbing ourselves between the legs, he even hopped down and ran over toward me a little way. I don't know why I wasn't afraid of him, but I wasn't. Of course, a spider monkey is just a small monkey about a foot and a half tall, but still, when a wild animal runs right at you jerking his prick back and forth, it seems like a lot of people would be scared. Well, I wasn't scared of him. Then, when he was about ten feet in front of me across the spring, he suddenly shot his load. When he did that, monkey-come sprayed out from him about two feet. It was funny how it sprayed. I knew enough from watching the native boys and men to know that when a man masturbates, he shoots off in a big white mass, but that wasn't the way the monkey did it.
When I saw him do this it seemed to excite me even more than I had been before, and I started working on myself faster and faster until, sure enough, I felt my pussy start having little spasms and I kind of lost control of myself and fell back on some leaves as I had my very first climax. I just lay there for a while on my back with my drawers down, still holding my pussy with my hand. I felt like I was floating in the clouds.
by this time the monkeys were already gone skittering off through the tree tops, but I didn't care. That one little monkey had somehow turned me on enough that I had got my first cookies, so I was feeling good.
That's some more words that my father doesn't know I use. I guess I learned most of the English words my father didn't teach me from listening to white hunters who sometimes came through where we held our religious meetings. I've lain in bed at night and heard them yell about "getting their cookies" with little black native girls that they had persuaded to come into their tent for trinkets or food or something.
Well, I went back to camp from the spring carrying my bucketful of water and humming a little tune, because I could tell right then that I was going to have my hands up my pussy a lot in the future. After that it didn't take much to excite me sexually. Whenever I'd see native boys jacking off in the villages, I'd sneak off away from my father to some place where I could drop my drawers down and make myself come again.
Plenty of times I'd see women doing it, too, and this seemed to get me just as excited as when the boys did it. I saw some of them sticking things into their pussies in order to pull it off, too, so I started doing that. Bananas are a joke. All the time I was in Africa I never saw even one girl stick a banana into her pussy. But I saw them play with themselves using little leather-looking affairs that they apparently had made special for the job. Once when my father wasn't around I traded a tablecloth for one of these things. When he wanted to know where the tablecloth was, I told him that one of the white hunters had swiped it. He believed that, because he didn't like them at all and was always talking about how they were all surely going to Hell.
Later on I tried using it on myself, but it seemed like a big waste to me. I always liked playing right around the front of my pussy where my little joy spot is-you know, right at the top of my pussy lips. So this thing didn't do much for me.
At night I thought a lot about having sex all during-my early adolescence. From the time I was 12 until I was 15 or 16, that's all I could think about. But my father watched me so closely that there wasn't a chance of me getting-away with anything. That didn't keep me from dreaming about it, though. And that was a funny thing. Because when I dreamed, I didn't dream of any of the natives, I didn't dream of the white hunters, and I didn't dream of anyone I'd ever met in my life. No human being, anyway.
What I dreamed of were monkeys. When I dreamed sex dreams that made me come in my sleep, it was always about monkeys. Not just the little spider monkeys I'd seen playing with themselves at the spring, though. All kinds of monkeys. Big monkeys and little monkeys and some kinds of monkeys I'd never even seen before. Apes, gorillas, chimpanzees and every kind you could imagine.
So I got to be practically grown-well I was grown physically, I guess-before I ever had sex with ... anybody. I know you already know that I let a baboon fuck me, Doctor. But you don't know how it happened, so I guess now's the time to tell you.
It was just west of Lake Tanganyika, in the spring of the year. My father and I had been camped in the jungle north of Kasanga for several months. I was out one day for a swim, and on the way back to the camp I went past the kind of hilly country that baboons like. My father let me go only because he had gotten an old native woman named Mballa to go with me. He knew she would watch me pretty close, because he had already converted her over to his religion and she had the fear of God in her something awful.
Baths aren't that easy to come by in the jungle, you know, so it was more to bathe than to swim that I went "swimming." Old Mballa and I both went into the water and it really made us feel good to get all washed up. On the way back old Mballa began having a pain in her side. In spite of all I could say, she claimed it was because she hadn't prayed before leaving for our swim. She was all excited to get back to the camp and make her peace with God. I never did know what the pain really was, but it couldn't have been very bad, because she ran like blazes to get back to camp in a hurry. I told her to go on and I'd be right behind her. In a little while I realized that I was getting a welcome treat, because I was alone, I was in good spirits, and I was a few miles away from camp.
I sat down on a rock to enjoy myself a little while before I had to return to camp, and the sun really felt great. I began to get this very warm, slow, turgid feeling all through my bones. The more I lay in the sun, the lazier and the more at ease I felt. After a while I even dozed off. It was summer, like I said, so I wasn't wearing much. Just a thin blue cotton dress, a pair of sandals and my drawers and brassiere. That's another thing that always bothered me. I never got to have any sexy undies like I knew the girls back in Baltimore were wearing.
Instead, I had plain old white cotton drawers that seemed thick as leather to me. And I had a few old white brassieres that were just hanging together by threads. They were the old-fashioned kind with circular stitching inside the cups that made my breasts look like the ends of torpedoes. But that's all I had, and ever since my father had caught me not wearing a brassiere, he added that to the list of things that could very possibly send my soul to Hell if I ever did it again. I used to be able to get away with it when I was first getting my breasts, but after I was 14 or so they moved around too much underneath my clothes if I didn't wear a brassiere, and that's when he caught me without one.
I think the real reason was because he actually wanted to get his own hands on me, and whenever I would leave my brassiere off, it just made him think more about my new little breasts bouncing around inside my clothes. I always did think he wanted to see me naked, and maybe to do something about it, too. I think he wanted to kiss me and fondle me so bad he could hardly stand it, but he never did, so that's neither here nor there.
So here I was lying on this big rock with the breeze blowing up my dress and my head heavy with a very pleasant drowsiness. I was lying on my back, with my dress blown up past my thighs when I gradually became aware that I wasn't alone on the rock. The funny thing is that I wasn't even sure how long I'd been there. It could have been only a few minutes, or it might have been more than an hour. I heard some grunting noises, looked up, and there, right on the rock, was a big male baboon. He was sitting on his ass a little way in front of me, and he was looking right up my dress. There was no mistaking that he was looking at my pussy.
Then I realized that I'd been dreaming, and that I'd had a sexy dream that had made my pussy so wet my drawers were sticky from it. You know how sometimes you won't know you've had a certain dream until something reminds you of it? Well, that's the way it was with me when I woke up on the rock. As soon as I saw the baboon, I remembered that I'd been dreaming about monkeys again. Monkeys playing with themselves, monkeys fucking each other, monkeys slipping their pricks into native girls, and a wild jumble of sexy scenes all involving monkeys.
The baboon couldn't know what I'd been dreaming about, of course, but he knew my pussy was wet because he could smell it. And that's all he cared about. I've thought of it a lot since, and I'll never know what made him bold enough to come right up to me like he did. Maybe I was so still, being asleep like I was, or maybe it was just a matter of him liking the way my pussy smelled, enough to risk a little danger in order to get closer to it. I'd like to think that's the way it was.
As soon as I sort of got my bearings and raised up a little bit, the baboon just kept looking right up my dress at my pussy, and grunting. Then I saw that he had a big hard prick on him that would have put any human prick to shame. It must have been at least 11 or 12 inches long. And it was standing straight out from his body like a bone.
It was a very strange feeling, I'll tell you, to wake up and more or less have your dream come true right in front of you. I was still kind of in a daze even after I awoke. The baboon just kept sitting there with his nose pointed toward my pussy, and he was running his hand up and down his prick while he looked. Well, Doctor, you can't imagine how excited it made me to know that that big monkey was so sexed-up because of me. When I'd been a little girl back in the forest at the spring, the little spider monkeys had been fun to watch, but this big fellow looked like he meant business.
I couldn't help myself-I started worming my way across the rock toward where the baboon was sitting with his big monster-prick in his hand. The closer I got to him-I was only about three feet away, but I was inching my way across the rock-the more he grunted and the faster his hand flew up and down his prick. Then he started coming toward me. Don't ask me why I wasn't afraid because I can't tell you. All I know is that I was 18 years old and I'd never had a man's dick up my pussy. And the prick on this baboon looked so good to me that I wasn't even concerned about the fact that he wasn't human.
I even reached down between my legs and started playing with myself through my drawers. That did it. As soon as I did that, I knew I was going to have hot baboon prick up my pussy in a matter of minutes. The big hairy thing bent over on all fours then catapulted himself right up to me. He was still sitting on the rock, and he wasn't touching me yet, but I knew it wouldn't be long. Then he reached over underneath my dress and took hold of my crotch. He yanked on the crotch of my drawers, trying to get them off of me so he could get to my pussy, but Doctor, a baboon's hands just aren't made to pull a girl's drawers off. He was having a terrible time with them. He was grunting more and rubbing his prick faster. I felt sorry for him.
So I reached down and lowered the top of my drawers for him. He got the idea real fast, and he took hold of them and ripped them off of me with one swipe of his arm. As soon as he had ripped my drawers off like that, I really began to lose control of myself. I began wanting that big old hairy baboon as though he were the handsomest movie star in the world. I showed him that I wanted him, too. I grabbed his monster-prick in my hand and started jacking him off with a great fury. Then he climbed up on top of me and nuzzled his fury face against my stomach, finally coming to rest with his mouth on my breast. When he sucked me it hurt a little, but I was too sexually excited to care. It even felt good feeling his animal teeth on my nipple. I don't know how he ever had the sense not to harm me by taking a bite out of one of my breasts, but he didn't.
He completely overpowered me. He yanked my hand off his prick and pinned both my hands beside my shoulders on the rock. Then I felt the onslaught of his beautiful monster-prick. He had me held down so tightly that I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted to, but he was giving my virgin pussy such a thorough fucking that I never wanted him to stop. As soon as he made the first jab into my pussy, the blood from my bursting hymen splattered out and colored my pubic hair red. And his big monster-prick was red from it too, but that never fazed him. He just kept pumping away as hard and fast as he could, and I was loving every minute of it. There was so much blood that I never knew whether he came or not, but I sure did like a case of dynamite!
As I felt myself shooting off like a sky rocket, I yelled, "Fuck me, you big hairy son of a bitch, I need it bad!" and with that I had an explosive climax that shook my whole consciousness with all the force I could stand. I guess the baboon must have had a climax too, because when I yelled he leaped right off me and leaped off the rock to run through the jungle with his monsterprick dripping red from my virgin pussy.
I've never been sure whether he was scared away by my shouting or whether he just was accustomed to running off immediately after he'd had his fuck. But I was sure of one thing. I had a hell of a time explaining my situation to my father. It had been so long-I told you that I seemed to lose all track of time while I was with the big hairy buck-that my father and a few natives had come looking for me. I didn't have the nerve to tell them the truth, and I didn't want to get any of the natives or the white hunters into trouble, I told my father that someone had caught me and knocked me out before they raped me. I told him that I never got so much as a look at whoever did it. He was pretty shaken up to see all the blood and my torn clothes, but when he was sure that I wasn't permanently injured, he finally settled down.
He made a firm resolution then to ship me to a more civilized place-at least to a large African town, if not the States-as soon as it was possible. A few months later he sent me, along with some of his followers, to Tanga where I was to be boarded in a school. It was on that journey that I contracted malaria. My father's followers made sure that I was being taken care of properly, then returned to his camp in the western part of the country. I have been here since that time.
I had a letter from my father some weeks ago in which he said he was going to send me to the States, eventually, so that I could be properly schooled. But his letter was filled with dire references to how he thought the Lord was going to destroy the world before long, anyway, and so for that reason it didn't make much difference about his plans to ship me to the United States. His letter made me remember how crazy he was.
I don't know what will happen to me from here on, Doctor. But if Father does send me to the United States, I have only one request I just have to live in a city large enough to have a large, well-stocked zoo.
PSYCHIATRIST'S ANALYSIS
The bizarre acts which Diane recounts in this case history are so farfetched that I would seriously doubt their validity if it were not for my having spoken at great length with the natives who delivered her to the hospital. Through an interpreter, I learned that the basic circumstances of her father's mission and of her general environment are true. In questioning them thoroughly about all the aspects of her bizarre tale that can possibly be checked upon, I have not uncovered even one inconsistency. It is true, of course, that no one except the patient herself has sure knowledge that she engaged in intercourse with this non-human creature, with this ... baboon. But there is no reason to assume it is not true, when one considers the remaining facts of her unusual story.
Bestiality, or zoophilia, as this sexual perversion is sometimes referred to, is not unknown to the human race. Such acts have been a ceremonial feature of more than a few past cultures, not the least noteworthy of which was ancient Greece. As a rule, however, this form of sexual perversion is practiced by persons who have reason to suffer from sexual deprivation. A common example would be male shepherds who have had the reputation since time immemorial of practicing sodomy upon their female charges, the ewe, or female sheep. Certain nomadic tribes have also been known to practice this perversion with female goats.
The unusual facet of this particular case, however, is that the human was female and the beast was male. The most common cases occur with human males and female beasts. In The Erotic Minorities, a work by the Swedish doctor and philosopher, Dr. Lars Ullerstam, he reports: "Sexual intercourse with animals, sodomy (bestiality, zoophilia), is a common type of human behavior, not just something out of the undergrowth of ancient anecdote about Roman emperors and other historical personages." Further on in his book, Dr. Ullerstam states: " ... in certain capital cities (Cairo) the brothels provide exhibitions of coition between women and mules." He continues, "In our culture, moralists and jurists have been roused to anger by the human urge to use animals for sexual pleasure. The worst kinds of cruelty have been committed against the zoophiles. Thus some of our old rural laws punished sodomy with animals by burying the offender alive. To use animals as sexual objects is still punishable in most of the countries we regard as civilized; for instance, Norway, Germany, Holland, Austria, and Israel."
Dr. Ullerstam continues with the observation, "That members of different species copulate is quite common in the animal world, perhaps especially among the more advanced animals (National Research Council Conference on Mammalian Sex Behavior, New York, 1943). Why then regard this behavior as degenerate when it occurs in Homo sapiens? There are no biological or medical grounds whatsoever for a devaluation of this kind. Historically, the judgement is a lingering remnant of a sexual taboo which originated among a pre-scientific people, out of fear and superstition."
Dr. Ullerstam's views, then, are perhaps somewhat more liberal than many persons would agree with, but his points should be carefully examined by those who seek the truth without regard for superficial answers based on outmoded, primitive concepts.
Turning to the Bible, in Leviticus 20:15, one may read, "And if a man lie with a beast, he shall surely be put to death: and ye shall slay the beast." This is a concept with which Diane's father would have undoubtedly been in accord. His influence, of course, has a strong bearing on Diane's emotional maturity and condition. It seems clear that he was a pathetic tyrant who used his warped views of religion as a crutch for his personal inadequacies. But it is unfortunate that his strictness with his daughter should have caused her to use such deviant means to satisfy her normal sex desires.
As for the girl's prognosis, it is my belief that she stands a good chance of recovering from her tendencies toward zoophilia if she is placed in a normal environment. Isolating her from contact with beasts, would, in my opinion, enable her to forget her animal-love. Then, if provided with a plentiful number of young men of her own age from which to choose, it is highly probable that she would form lasting and meaningful love attachments. I have advised that she be sent to the United States whenever her condition permits travel ... preferably to a city which does not contain that which she fantasizes-"a large wellstocked zoo!"