From: horsestorideon
Subject: Re: Crack. Front down forget the mane. [a Question. For Dave]
Date: November 6, 1998 4:09:45 PM PST
To: bearcub
Cc: exit2k, afw10, mrvisible, sowinski, sejohnst, shorning, gbrennan, emcgarry, and 22 more…
so, i guess i ejaculated for my first time when i was 11 or so, masturbating to stolen straight-porn from a friend’s brother…
what do you do with all that time and energy on your hands?
i was out in the coutnry:
lots of space
lots of time
not lots of people…
my choices consisted of what i could find in the media
[be it porn or periodical]
and what i decided to try out for myself.
being a sexually-vacant kid at the time
[i’d still never had sex]
i got interested in the idea of beastiality…
for the orgasm, yes
for their furriness, sure…
but i was intensely wishing i could get them pregnant and create a mutant off-spring that i could hang out with
[this is what i felt like in indiana; how about you?]
the only things i ever attempted to have sex with was a cat and a dog
the cat was female [i think] and i didn’t really try to fuck it…[i thought that hole was much too small… though it probably would have worked] just rub it’s furry belly on my cock…
it was kinda stupid and amounted to nothing.
i tried a dog next,
female.
her vagina was much too small for me to get inside
though i tried to loosen it up
i always felt like the dog didn’t like it
so i stopped after the first few attempts
[i always wore condoms… until i knew what i was doing i didn’t want to catch anything from the dog]
though i think i came once and tried to rub it into here
but hey,
no pups.
my sister then started raising dogs a few years later
[this was about three years after i’d ended the play with the first dog]
i was very interested in the dog’s cock because all male dogs i’d seen had been neuterd…
i jacked it off a few times…
odd thing, a dog’s cock…
odder thing: its orgasm.
when the dog starts fucking it loses control,
it’s hips jerk and shove
and if you look in its eyes
there’s almost a fear there;
a vancancy…
biological fucking: it does wonders to one’s own perspective to take part in another sort of animal’s sexual-being.
—
a man i once spoke with on the IRC called me on the phone
to talk with me for hours about what he’d like to do to me…
with me.
he wanted to kill me…
thought that be hot…
or, maybe, he’d take me to meet this other kid in texas who was 16
and i could choke this kid with my cock
[shoving it to fill his throat and using my hands to hold him there
not a “little death”, but…]
and he’d strangle me while i was killing him
and maybe we’d all cum at the same time
[back-ground data]
so then he just started talking about other things he’d like to force me to do
like take me to a bath house and force me to get fucked by many men,
bare-back’d
he said
“you know you will get sick, don’t you? — i’ll be there to watch you die”
i kept him on the phone to try and understand where he was comming from
[i’ve never let anyone off by just thinking they were “fucked up” or anything as simple as that]
he started talking about dogs…
and if i’d ever had sex with dogs
and how he and his friends had sex with dogs a lot
and would i like to get fucked by a dog?
and does that sound hot?
and he said
that when they cum in a person’s ass
they seem to lock up
and you can’t really pull them out until they get soft
which can take up to about a half-hour…
and they dig their paws into your shoulders…
if you try to pull them out they’ll hurt you…
—
so, lets see..
i’ve heard stories [or desires, at least]
but have you ever had sex with an animal besides a human?
and what were you doing with it?
[i mean, was it just to get off? seems a long way to go when you could just use your hands]
sure, we all like the “bear” culture and everything
but what is our beastiality-attraction here, david?
well
let’s take that inside:
sure, we all like the “bear” culture:
it helps us to remind us that we’re animals,
not fashion-victims
not husbands or wives
not “humans” as something seperate from all the other living creatures…
but what’s it like, fucking like an animal?
you got a big cock
yeah
biggest cock we’d ever seen
but what do you do with it?
you know: it’s not enough to get off
not enough to just have sex
[or is it? hmmm, that’s up to you, really: go look in a mirror]
but here’s the question:
what are you trying to accomplish with any act of sex you have with any animal you have it with?
bear or cub or otter or dog…
what do you think you might be breeding?
From: bearcub
Subject: Crack. Front down forget the mane.
Date: November 6, 1998 4:57:51 AM CST
To: exit2k
Cc: exit2k, afw10, mrvisible, sowinski, sejohnst, shorning, gbrennan, emcgarry, and 23 more…
Canadians…
When will the war end?
We want our bacon back.
His piss was very soothing.
I had seen you on your motorcycle, cruising down Santa Monica Blvd.
Always
your helmet and face guard prevented me from seeing your face. Always your
open leather jacket allowed me to see that thin line of hair tracing a path
to your navel to disappear beneath the silver belt buckle. had never had sex
with a man, but i knew that if i did it would be with someone like you.
Okay…You have just received a call from a long lost friend. He is in town
for the weekend, and he needs someone to take care of his – you got it –
husky from Friday till Sunday night. Well, since he is so well houstrained,
and your roomate was killed in a tragic blimp accident, (right after you won
the lottery) you say sure. He brings over the beauty, who’s name you promptly
forgot. He takes an immediate liking to you, and your friend leaves,
confident he is good hands.
Saturday morning cums with you in bed with the husky at the foot of it. He
wakes when you does, and walks over to you for a scratching. As you pet him,
you let your hand wander down to his ****, and feel it is incredibly large
for a dog!
taokemikal
bearcub
taobear On ICQ
From: rsiken@hotmail.com
Subject: Houdini
Date: November 6, 1998 3:12:19 AM PST
To: exit2k@hotmail.com, afw10@columbia.edu, mrvisible@worldnet.att.net, sowinski@inetdirect.net, sejohnst@midway.uchicago.edu, shorning@willamette.edu, gbrennan@willamette.edu, emcgarry@willamette.edu, and 24 more…
He was not dead yet, not exactly –
parts of him were dead already, certainly other parts
were still only waiting for something to happen – something grand –
but it isn’t
always about me he’s saying,
though he’s talking about the only heart he knows:
boys on the bed, strange sheets, the way the phone rings
in the other room like that, the way it has of ringing, ringing –
Back to him – looks different, talks the same. What he remembers
has nothing to do with us, or does it – the inside parts –
all this circling around inside the darkened rooms inside
those dream of ours that never get used.
He is not dead yet, still though it isn’t
about him – can’t articulate what it is he feels or needs or
thinks he needs, doesn’t know which parts to move
or which ones stack on top of all the other ones.
Doesn’t really
trust us, but then why should he – we sit and listen, then we wander
right back out again –
the small dark rooms still dark, still small – sheets over chairs,
bulbs blown, the windows now open now shut –
But still, we wanted the antidote, the answer to the mystery,
the problem solved: a small-boned boy
beside the window quivering, a boy like a hinge – all the candy
and toilets inside his head –
how we gurgle in anticipation of the passwords, the keys
in the locks, the anything
that covers up the screaming.
He says: It’s quiet now.
He says: It’s empty handed.
He says: Here are big and little words
all spelling out desire, all spelling out You will be alone always
and then you will die –
conjuring conjuring always someone to push us down the stairs again
wearing our sad shoes and waving the little white flags –
especially that, but we should have known.
But we did want to find our way in again, didn’t we?
All of us wanting to find our way in, trying to bash in his head
to get to the candy.
We go to sleep, we slumber, while he lumbers through the mail
to end up on the table, and we wonder what he’s thinking when
he shivers like that,
when he opens up the box and gives us all the explaining.
Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads,
that the heart has been chained and dunked in a glass booth
filled with river water.
The heart is monologing about hesitation and fulfillment
while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning.
Can the heart escape? Does love even care? Should we stand here
or jump in the water?
Sure, he put himself in the box.
He wouldn’t have if we weren’t watching.
This stunt, this heroic display of showmanship for the home team –
He puts himself in the box
and there’s nothing in the box but him.
Him and maybe Hope.
Snow falls on the water as we dump the booth in the bay.
Suppose for a moment we are crowded around the pier,
waiting for something to ripple the water.
We believe in you. There is no danger. It is not getting dark
we want to say.
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