circles, receiving when the other thrust and thrusting when the other received. The man's forehead glistened. The woman's breasts shook. The eyes of the drunken mob below them followed every detailed motion lasciviously, the drool from some of their mouths dripping from their chins.
Suddenly, a tenseness seemed to seize the fucking couple. Their furious thrusts seemed to take on an added violence. The man's fingers clutched tighter to the girl's flesh so that she was forced to cry out in pain and in passion. Faster and faster they worked themselves up to a pitch. And those in the audience sensed the imminence of the oncoming orgasm. They saw it in the tensed bodies of the pair on the table locked furiously in each other's embrace. They saw it in the bulging eyes of the man. They saw it in the vehement paroxysms of passion that surged through the woman's body. And they felt it in their own bodies, sensing the climax in the performing pair almost as surely as though the juice were about to spurt within themselves.
Then they heard the woman emit a series of heartrending moans, each moan seemingly coming from the very depths of her plasm. The man clasped her tighter. Her arms flopped ineffectually about like puppets'. His legs propelled more powerful thrusts of his penis into her midsection. Her lips voraciously swallowed up his entire mouth, her tongue engaging his in combat. Convulsion after convulsion tore through them.
Then they came into each other.
And, at the same time, on the floor below them, a drunken banderillero, unable to keep his own passion under check, seized hold of his panting girl and threw her to the floor. There, throwing up her flouncing petticoats, he laid her cunt bare to both his gaze and his prick, which he had already freed from his pants and on which he had been surreptitiously working for the last few minutes. Riotously, as though he were raping a virgin, he spread her legs apart, she falling in with the idea, and taking hold of his prick, she led it into its stall, her avid quivering quim between her legs, wrapping her legs around his back and squeezing as hard as she could the while the man atop of her sank the entire length of his tortured organ into her.
Immediately, other couples, their senses inflamed by what they had seen, seized hold of each other. Soon, the entire floor was a mass of men and women, their varicoloured petticoats flying about them, a dozen pair of black stockinged legs fanning the air, each with a hot, impassioned man astride of them, pumping enlarged pricks into a dozen different waiting holes.
The pair on the table, their fuck complete, slipped down from their perch to the floor where, with his cock once again in her mouth, the pretty cigarette girl was attempting to bring the softened penis again to its height. And as she looked about her and saw the orgy of fucks taking place, the plethora of stiff pricks sinking into hair- guarded abysses of cunts, her head bobbed up and down more energetically and her tongue manipulated itself with an added energy in an attempt to bring the man back to his former vigour.
Moans, sighs, cries, curses; all sorts of noises and sounds came up from the fornicating masses on the ground. And all were fucking, with the exception of El Gallo and La Tarantula. He was still seated glumly at his table, staring at the proceedings disgustedly. La Tarantula, her senses maddened by the sight of the numerous couples fucking right in front of her very eyes, begged him with her eyes to simulate the happy pairs. But El Gallo only stared at her, his eyes smouldering, and refused to throw her on the ground for a grand fuck.
'Please!' she said finally, 'I must get rid of this load that is piling up inside of me!'
El Gallo only shrugged his shoulders.
Then La Tarantula borrowed some of the surliness from her lover. She, too, assumed a mask of glum dourness and eyed the erotic proceedings with hatred, her nostrils distending like a stallion's, her eyes flaming with hatred.
Soon, a number of couples, having blown off their nuts already, arose from the floor and went at the aguardiente bottles again with a renewed vigour. The entire group was shortly on its feet with the exception of the original pair that had performed on the table. By that time, with his expert tonguing, the girl had brought the man's prick to its hardness again. But they were in a very peculiar position on the floor. Instead of assuming the customary position, they had reversed it.
For her head was pumping up and down, her mouth wrapped securely around his enlarged cock. But his head and face were sunk deep into the cleft of her legs, immersed in the hairs of her cunt the while his tongue manoeuvred itself in and out of her hole and licked her clitoris, already stiffening from her second arousing to passion.
Up and down went the girl's head on his penis. In and out went his face into her cunt. And again, others grouped themselves around this performing couple and huzzahed and cheered as they sweated themselves into another orgasm. The guitarist came down from his dais and started a fast-moving malagueha. The stamping of feet and clapping of hands accompanied the music. But, while the others were all engrossed in the sight on the floor, El Gallo and La Tarantula, seated across from each other at one table, smouldered now in a newborn hatred for each other.
Suddenly, Zurito, the picador, came running into the room. His wild hair streamed in all directions about his head. 'Comrades! comrades!' he called out, holding his hands up in the air for silence. All turned their attention from the couple on the floor to Zurito.
'Comrades and girls!' Zurito continued, 'we have prepared the bull Vibora, the Viper, one of the Miura bulls, for the greatest fuck of the evening. Come! follow me!' And, with these words, he exited, followed by the rest of the company. Caught in the movement of the rest, both El Gallo and La Tarantula were pushed forward with the crowd into the barn behind the tavern. There they saw a most peculiar sight. Strapped up in a number of braces and leather saddles was an enormous black Miura bull. His black coat glistened under the torch-lights like a satin sheen. His mad wicked little eyes boiled hatred for the puny little men who had trussed him up in such a ridiculous fashion. For only his hind legs were touching the floor and they had been anchored down to two iron rings with heavy chains. The forelimbs and the entire front part of his body had been drawn up on a sort of pulley contrivance so that he looked like a rearing horse, but permanently reared. His front legs had been chained too, so that he could not do any damage with them. And directly under his belly, right under a long hair-covered projection at the rear, was a wooden pallet covered with mats and sacks and rags.
'The bullfuck!' one of the men yelled.
'Hurray!' another shouted, 'what woman is going to be fucked by the bull?'
Before any other woman could make reply, a flaming figure stepped into the lighted circle where the helpless bull stood trussed up. It was La Tarantula. Her eyes burned hatred. Her little fists were clenched up. She turned to where El Gallo was standing and, as though talking solely to him, she said, 'If I cannot get a man to fuck me when I want him to fuck me, then perhaps I can get a dumb beast, a bull, to satisfy me!'
Saying this, she drew her dress up over her head and showed that she had donned nothing else but the dress, for she was stark naked. Lights from the reflections of the torches glinted over the highspots of her contours like fireflies. All the men looked at her and envied the man who could fuck her and the bull who was going to enjoy her, too. They eyed the proud firm breasts that asserted their superiority in no uncertain contours. They marked the gentle slope of her waist as it tapered out to her hips, and they swore mightily because they could not feel her velvet flesh nestling between their own thighs. They noted the stark outflare of her perfectly paired buttocks shaping down to the finely chiselled shapeliness of her thighs. They saw the mount of Venus abundantly vegetated with finespun dark hair barely shadowing the tight cunny settled deeply into its odorous thickets. But, worst of all, they saw her lower herself to the pallet and spread her legs triumphantly for the enormous prick of the Miura bull.
Had Zurito not been drunk, he would never have done as he did.
Perhaps he was not as drunk as he purported to be. Perhaps he was determined to separate his master, El Gallo, from the toils of this arch creature, La Tarantula, who had already left a stream of dead lovers in her wake. Anyhow, he did see El Gallo's face standing out in the gloom at the fringe of the excited onlookers. It was like a madman's grimace, a gargoyle's horrid countenance, violently distorted by hatred and jealousy and anger.
But Zurito continued what he had already started.
Taking a small package from his pocket, he poured a flicker of the greenish powder onto a bit of moistened bread. Taking this, he stepped on a ladder which had been adjusted close to the bull's head and climbed up so that he could reach the bull's mouth. Then he fed the soggy bread to the bull who seized it avidly and munched it so quickly that it was swallowed immediately.
'Spanish fly!' one of the men whispered to his girlfriend. 'It will make the bull crazy for a fuck!'
By this time, Zurito had descended from the ladder and had placed himself at the rear of the bull, his eyes glued to the tuft of hair under the bull's belly from which there would soon emerge a naked rampant pizzle, a virgin
