Watching animals fuck
Posted March 24, 2008on:
Am I the only person in the world that gets off watching animals fuck? It feels dirty to admit it, but there is an undeniable reaction in what you might call my ‘loins’ when I am flipping TV stations and suddenly am confronted with zebras fucking on the Discovery Channel.
The stallion chases the mare, nudging her with his head, forelegs hopping once in a futile attempt to mount. He nips at her neck for a split second before lunging forward and biting her, hauling his body up onto his hind for just long enough to grip either side of her flanks with his forelegs. The growing urgency is clear in the way that the creature’s cock goes from dangling to quite rigid, seeking the mare in the way only he can. The mare, on the other hand, sets her legs and thrashes rebelliously for just an instant, trying to evade the bite that she knows is coming, stretching out her neck and protesting angrily, but only until she feels the hot nudging against her nether flesh, then beginning to push backward against the stallion. They bray together, male and female, needy and I imagine, uncaring why or how.The coupling only takes a moment, but both look exhausted afterward.
I watch it with something of a morbid fascination. Animals fucking seems so clean of the bullshit we put ourselves through, desperate, needy, lusty, if you will, almost rapine in its intensity and undeniably crude. Sex ought to be that way in most circumstances…the ‘lovemaking’ of romance novels and soft core aside, it just doesn’t happen like that in real life…even in the most elegant of circumstances, things will still occasionally be awkward, unsanitary, sweaty, and all around, normal.
As I’m watching these zebras fucking, I find myself reflecting on something I read the other day. Apparently a large portion of the mentally healthy population has rape fantasies. Male and female alike, forced sex is something that we daydream about on occasion. I thought I was one of a degenerate few for many years…and now I find out that I am somehow part of a vast population of women and men who imagine the crude, hard grasp of hands on them, of a grinding, unwilling kiss, the sudden mix of pleasure and pain as you are laid open, penetrated, spoiled and ravished. Even the ones who don’t actively imagine such contact have their own allegories…our fascination as a society, with vampires and werewolves. Both are animalistic, highly-sexual creatures associated with rape fantasies…blood-letting by the throat is as penetration, or even, dare I wax poetical, the blood-letting of the hymen.
That said, rape itself, literal rape, is wrong on so many levels I won’t go into it…we’re talking about fantasies here, not real life…not force or coercion or drugs…simple fantasies.
Perhaps another aspect of the rape fantasy that has taken hold is that it is free, utterly free of the sex-rituals of modern culture. There’s no shaving or waxing of your junk in rape…you are taken as you are. There’s no stupid, overpriced lingerie in rape…your panties are dangling around one ankle, or for the closet kinks out there, balled up and in your mouth. Moreover, there’s no apprehension in rape, no quiet pleading to ‘turnoff the lights’ before you are stripped and raw and naked…the rapist, or in this example, the anima or animus, doesn’t care what you look like, only that you sate a need. When the fucking happens, it is ferocious…it is angry and hungry and wanton… something else that we crave. There is no weakness in a rape fantasy, there is the bestial, animalistic fucking of your assailant (or in some cases, assailants).
So, perhaps part of the reason that rape fantasy is so common is the loss of inhibitions. Personally, and this is only the voice of my own experience, I find myself almost wondering if it is a latent desire in me to be submissive. It’s something that comes and goes…it is not that I am some sort of ‘switch’, wherein I jump between wanting dominant and a submissive role in our sexual play…it’s just that in my normalcy, I occasionally want one or the other. Some part of me occasionally wants to be possessed, ravaged, and used…thinks it would be a massive turn-on, and since our play is lately somewhat low-impact, those impulses have gotten stronger. I see it reflecting in other outlets of my life, role playing, writing, etc…I’ve caught myself daydreaming more than once lately.
One of my most common fantasies is driving my man to a loss of self-control. Being that my man is a very controlled man, with more self-discipline in his left testicle than I have in my entire body, it’s never going to happen like that…but what I want sometimes, achingly, is to be forced into a sex act by him. I don’t care what…he could be grinding his face into my pussy, he could be raping me on the kitchen floor while our dinner burns on the stove…he could be forcing me to have sex without a condom and grinning at me as he cums deep down into me. It all revolves around driving him to that breaking point and then being completely overcome by him. We go from being the eccentric couple with the dogs and the houseplants and the unwashed dishes, to being a lusty, ungentlemanly evil overlord and the colleague he seduced and made into his whorish thrall.
I’d be a very happy girl. I might fight a little, but I’d be grinning like the bitch in the Enzyte commercial for weeks and weeks afterward.