A literotic sexstories: How to Have Sex with a Horse – Part 1: The Initiation by barbielez ,
A young woman has sex with a horse for the first time.
For those of you who do not yet know what Bestiality School is, here is a quick description:
Bestiality School is the name of a highly profitable, ever-expanding company. It came to be a result of the countrywide repeal of the laws against bestiality. However, it was not until Barbie Lez normalized the concept of interspecies sex that it flourished. It is now the leading sex-related company in the world, ranking higher than even sex toy manufacturers and porn production companies. In essence, Bestiality School is designed to immerse its clients in an environment suited for sexual interactions between them and an animal of their choice. As a result of Barbie’s book, the How to Have Sex with a Dog bundle has outsold every other alternative by a two-to-one ratio.
The CEO of the Bestiality School has revealed that both he and Miss Lez’s publisher are currently in negotiations for a yet unannounced collaboration. While the exact nature of this collaboration remains a mystery, it is rumored the intrepid author is considering writing a sequel to How to Have Sex with a Dog. The authenticity of such claims may be unfounded, but fans across the globe eagerly await any news on the subject. Only time will tell whether Barbie is willing to once again immerse herself in the sex-starved world of bestiality.
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Prologue
I couldn’t believe it had only been six months since my first bestial encounter. It felt like so much more. Then again, quite a lot had happened since that first day I walked into Candy’s office. For starters, Candy and I were now a couple. Also, I was officially a millionaire—actually, I was so wealthy I had more money than I knew what to do with. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll start at the beginning and work my way up from there.
As I mentioned, Candy and I were finally a couple. We moved in together within the first month. We also adopted a dog and had so many three-ways I quickly lost count. With the money I received from my publisher, we were able to purchase the home of our dreams. Things were just about perfect. Then my book—How to Have Sex with a Dog—was launched, and all hell broke loose.
I knew bestiality was a controversial topic, yet I wasn’t prepared for the frenzy my autobiography—that’s what my publisher called it—would generate. Every talk show host in the world jumped at the occasion. Some bashed me and tried to sully my good name. Others commended me for my courage. But in the end, it mattered little, as every commentary, every opinion, no matter if it was good or bad, only made me more famous. The fact that I categorically refused to appear on any television program only made things worse. As a result of this controversy, How to Have Sex with a Dog became an instant bestseller. The first printing sold out in twenty-four hours. The second, which consisted of a million volumes, was exhausted within a week. The third—ten million copies—took nearly a month to sell out. But still people kept buying it. And buying it. And buying it.
The first time I got recognized was kind of cool. I signed the guy’s book and wished him a good day. But as my fame increased, so did my fan base. Before long, the media knew where I lived, and I got mobbed every single time I left the house. Before long, I stopped going out altogether. Candy did her best to cheer me up, but it was hard for her to juggle her job and our paparazzi-infested life. I often reminded her that we now had enough money for her to quit her job, but she refused. She claimed it was the only thing keeping her sane. While I didn’t understand, I accepted it.
Candy and I weren’t the only ones affected by my book’s phenomenal success. My publisher now received more manuscripts that he could handle, and the Bestiality School was flooded with new clients. The once small company expanded, opening a branch in every major city in every country where bestiality was legal. Other companies tried to copy them, but none met with much success. Bestiality School was the top dog, and it would be quite a while before such a massive corporation got dethroned. Speaking of thrones, they had recently announced their very latest innovation.
The Bestiality Championship.
I no longer watched the news, because more times than not it was about me, the Bestiality School, or both. It thus wasn’t until the CEO of the Bestiality School invited me to his office that I learned of this new addition. Candy undoubtedly would have told me, but the CEO requested my presence mere minutes after the big reveal. I was intrigued by the mysterious summons, but not overly worried. The Bestiality School’s success was due in great part to me, and both the CEO and the board members were quite aware of it. Still, my heart was pounding like a drum when I entered the man’s office.
The CEO was as straightforward as they come and he wasted little time on pleasantries. He began by explaining the intricacies of the Bestiality Championship. Apparently, it would be a televised competition where constants battled each other for the title of Bestiality Queen. Apparently, experts had predicted it would be the most watched pay-per-view event in television history. The ten constants—as of now, only women were being considered, though an all-male counterpart was also in the works—were to be unknown, everyday women. While I was told only the most beautiful of women would be selected, the only requirement—at least as far as the general public was concerned—was to send in a video recording explaining why you believed you deserved to be selected. They were anticipating millions of submissions.
I listened patiently for a while but finally lost my patience. I demanded to know what any of this had to do with me. The CEO told me all would be revealed in time, but asked that I listen to the remainder of his explanation. I reluctantly agreed.
Once the ten competitors were selected, they would be flown in from across the world and provided with the details of the competition. The Bestiality Championship consisted of five rounds. The first was to be an initiation of sorts, where each competitor would learn the basics of having sex with a horse—equines were the theme of the competition. Each participant would be scored on their performance. At the end of the second round, the competitors with the two lowest scores would be eliminated. After the third round, four of the remaining eight players would be eliminated. The fourth round would cut this number down to two. In the fifth and final round, the two remaining competitors would battle it out. The winner would be crowned Bestiality Queen. She would also receive a one-million dollar cash prize, as well as a lifetime pass to any and all Bestiality Schools across the world.
I once again pointed out that I still had no idea why he was telling me this. The CEO’s answer not only shocked me but also filled me with a sense of disgust.
“We want you to be one of the competitors,” he explained. “In fact, we want you to be the star of the show. While we cannot guarantee you will win, you will be well compensated for your participation.”
I couldn’t believe it. I had sacrificed my normalcy to catapult his company into stardom and still he wanted more? I was about to tell him off when he asked that I keep an open mind until I heard the rest of his proposal. While I was still fuming at his selfishness, I agreed to let him finish.
Apparently, the man had been in talks with my publisher, because he told me they had agreed to pay me a million dollars for my participation. The only condition was that I write about my experiences in a sequel to How to Have Sex with a Dog, which was tentatively titled How to Have Sex with a Horse. A few months ago I would have been tempted to accept, but given the vast wealth I had accumulated as a result of my royalty payments, I was in no rush to jeopardize my already fragile existence. In fact, I categorically refused to even consider the man’s proposal. I even stormed out of his office.
I received a call from my publisher as soon as I got home. He must have heard about my refusal because he offered to double the original sum if only I agreed to both compete in the Bestiality Championship and write about it for the whole world to read. I once again refused.
It took a while, but I eventually calmed down. I realized that my anger was not directed at the Bestiality School’s CEO or my publisher. They were only doing that was in the best interest of their respective companies. The reason I had refused to even consider participating in the Bestiality Championship was because of my family. It was already bad enough that they had read all about my first bestial encounters. I could not bear the thought of them watching me debase myself for the enjoyment of the masses. Still, two million dollars was a lot of money. But it was not until my publisher once again doubled his offer—the total was now four million dollars. Five, if I won the competition—that I finally accepted. But that never would have happened had Candy not promised to retire from teaching if I agreed to participate. When I asked her why she seemed so eager for me to participate, she responded that it was the most logical thing to do. The only surefire way to ensure our future was bright was to give both the media and the fans what they wanted. And at the moment, what they wanted above all else was to see me have sex with a horse. I wasn’t entirely sure I agreed with Candy’s logic, but if it meant she would quit her job, then it would be worth it. Plus, competing in the Bestiality Championship would ensure we never ran out of money. It was, for the most part, a perfect solution.
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