with a million crazy orgasms all at the same time. Heaven and hell simultaneously.
That's when Wimpy shot his load. I could feel him shooting off inside me like spurts of white-hot lava scalding my guts. And still he held me and held me until I was just on the verge of passing out altogether.
But then at last it was all over. The prick-pounding stopped and he slowly relaxed his grip and let me breathe again. I was drenched in sweat from head to toe — mine and his combined — and I didn't have an ounce of strength left in me. I just lay there panting against him, clinging tightly, completely satisfied for the first time in my young life. And madly in love for the first time in my life besides.
All I wanted to do was just lie on his woolly breast forever. At least I hoped that he'd let me stay there for a little while, all wrapped up in his rough warmth, but I didn't expect any favors. I knew how bored men get right after the orgasm, and I figured monkeys probably were no different.
But he didn't seem any more inclined to move than I was. He must have got a pretty good charge out of the action himself. After all, it was a brand new first-time thing for him too. He went back to plucking at my boob and nudging it back and forth and that was okay with me. I could see that we had got off on the right foot of what was going to be a long and beautiful friendship.
After awhile his cock dwindled inside me — I could feel it happen, and a cold draft of air suddenly hit up into me. Then he pulled out of me altogether and it great big flood of his come-juice came rolling out my cunt and dribbled down over my leg and ass.
I laughed and said to him, 'You lying rascal! I thought you said you used it rubber.'
He squeezed my boob to let me know what he thought of that shitty joke.
A little latter I began to feel the urge coming on me again for another go-round, and I reached for his prick and started in on it with a new lot of pulling and squeezing, but I guess he'd had enough for one night. He let out a snort and jerked away from me, and I went off his lap and down — CLUNK — onto the cold hard floor of the cage. Wimpy went lumbering off, shaking his ass at me, letting me know the party was over. See you around, baby.
I could take a hint. Anyway, that was action enough for the first night for both of us. He was right. No sense rushing things. Tomorrow we'd tackle lesson two of the course, although I wasn't too sure from here on whether it would be me teaching him or him teaching me. Now that he'd got the hang of things, I had a hunch it was going to be Wimpy's ball game the rest of the way.
NOTE: Valerie carried on her affair with Wimpy for several months after that. She cut herself off from the circus men entirely and once they all realized for sure that she had apparently gone celibate on them, they quit bothering her and left her to her animal friends.
The only member of the circus who found out about her secret love affair with Wimpy was a young man named Pete, who had been working as an attendant and ticket-taker on the merry-go-round. One night, being drunker than he was allowed to be and looking for a place to hide out overnight, Pete sneaked into the number two monkey wagon and crawled under an empty cage. There, a little while later, he was a flabbergasted witness as the aloof Miss Valerie staged one of her flamboyant monkey-fuck performances, never intended for the eyes of an audience. Valerie tells about it in a later chapter of her manuscript:
It just happened that night that I was in an even wilder mood than usual and I was really laying it on. Wimpy and I had been screwing each other's asses off for quite a long time then, and we had got so we made an elaborate game out of it. On that night I was down on all fours — bare-ass naked of course — scrambling around the Goddamn cage with my ass in the air, yapping and squealing like a female monkey — scratching my ribs — flipping my boobs. Pete must have thought I was stark raving loony.
Wimpy chased after me for awhile, never quite catching up. That was all part of our game. Then I jumped up and grabbed onto the bars and climbed up about eight feet high on the side of the cage, out of his reach. So there he was down below reaching for me, grabbing at my ankles, chattering away, and there I was up there hanging on the bars, kicking down at him, spitting, calling him a big hairy motherfucker and every other name. Of all nights for somebody to be spying on us. I could have killed that sneaky bastard.
It ended with me jumping down and landing right on top of old Wimpy and he caught me like he always did and we went down onto the floor together. Then I rolled over away from him and got up on my hands and knees; with my ass in his face, and making monkey noises again. This was going to be a plain old-fashioned monkey-fuck — in from the rear-end, under the ass and up the snatch. I gave Wimpy a good spread to aim at and wiggled my ass at him and he slipped up behind me and eased into position. Man, this was his kind of fucking.
He slipped his prick up inside with no trouble at all — we had our parts pretty well tooled to a fine fit by then. I'd developed a perfect monkey-cunt, just for him. So there he was whanging away against my ass and me bending the knees and bumping backwards to help the action. As usual his long arms came around under me to play squeeze-ball with my boobs.
Pete said later that he thought he must be asleep in a drunk dream, I mean who would believe a sight like this — drunk or sober?
We pounded away to our usual A-bomb orgasm and then we wrestled around with each other, making more monkey noises, and all through the whole nutty scene that kid Pete wouldn't pop out and show himself. He let me go on making it jackass of myself and then finally — when I'm climbing down out of the damn cage, all smeared up with crud and straw and dripping sweat, looking like it bedraggled sewer-rat, then he sticks his head out and says to me, 'Good show, Miss Valerie. Didn't know you had it in you.' And he gave me a couple of tired hand-claps along with it.
I let out it whoop and almost dropped right on the spot from heart failure. But then I saw who it was and I started in giving him hell. The cocky young shit — I'd slept with him once or twice when he first joined the show. That was when I was still sleeping around a lot — long before I took up with the monkeys. I used to try out all the new boys that came and went, the same as the other girls did. I remembered this one well. He was a common variety — big mouth and small cock.
But then under the circumstances I figured I'd better play it cool with him. I wasn't too anxious naturally to have the word get around the lot about me and Wimpy's mad passion. So I invited Pete to come on inside with me and have a drink and help me shower down.
Then over a drink, under the shower, and finally under the sheets together, we made a little deal. Tomorrow I'd speak to his boss and arrange a transfer to the menagerie for him. From now on he would work for me — helping out around the monkey house.
And it wasn't such a bad deal for me. I could use the help, and from then on I had somebody to stand watch for me when I was doing my thing with Wimpy. Pete wasn't such a bad kid anyway. It certainly was no sweat keeping him happy. He was a pretty feeble fuck compared to that wild monkey. I could drain Pete dry in five minutes anytime without half trying and have plenty of juice left for Wimpy whenever he was ready to ball.
Pete loved watching me and Wimpy do our stuff and I didn't mind that. What the hell — I'd performed in the buff for audiences enough times before when I was in the girlie show — stuffing myself with dildos and every other damn thing. So there was no problem for me of self-consciousness or embarrassment. And it was big kicks for Pete. Sometimes I think he got more charge out of watching me screw the monkey than he did out of banging me himself.
One day when I wasn't on the scene, unfortunately, some woman got into a big hassle with Wimpy. She claimed she was standing beside his cage minding her own business when he reached through the bars and grabbed hold of her, tore her dress down the back, and then reached around and 'roughly handled her right breast, inflicting major bruises and abrasions and causing her to suffer extreme terror and severe embarrassment.'
She informed Mister Bennington that she was suing the circus for some idiotic amount of money — way up in the hundred thousand area. Old Bennington flew into his usual tizzy and told me in no uncertain terms that Wimpy was a nuisance and he was getting rid of him. Having him destroyed!
I nearly had a breakdown. Destroy Wimpy! They'd be destroying me too if they did. But what could I do? I was at my wit's end.
But then good old Pete came to the rescue. I hadn't even seen the dame who made the complaint, but Pete told me, 'You know who she is. You've noticed her around here plenty. Remember last week I pointed her out to you? The fat cunt with the floppy hat.'
Oh, did I ever remember! And all of a sudden the worries just melted away. We had this dame by the balls, so to speak.
The thing is, there's a certain type of woman that's attracted to monkeys, and they spend half their time hanging around zoos and menageries like ours. Any place with monkeys can tell you they see this type of woman
