A couple of weeks ago I took my family to a small zoo in central Ontario. Actually it was my wife's idea. We had gone to a family reunion for her paternal grandmother's family: my wife for some kind of strange loyalty to a line of DNA and the same morbid curiosity that drives people to go to their high school reunions: me because I had not had enough time to come up with a viable excuse (apparently staying at home masturbating and eating corn chips all day wasn't an urgent enough reason for exclusion from this particular mission): and my kids because they were too young to leave alone and everybody we usually pawned them of on was going to the reunion. The reunion turned out to be a bust due in large part to a bunch of old people who smelled like death warmed over who sat in the basement of the church where the reunion was being held which smelled like stale, dank, moth-balled, shit-tinged basement and kept an eagle eye on the food making sure nobody got anything until the unknown time that had been predetermined by this Council of the Damned to be optimal for consuming typical shitty pot luck dishes. Thanks in particular to one old cunt obviously on the verge of death and with that sense of entitlement that some old people get simply for having existed for a long time who kept a sharp watch on the food to make sure people weren't having too good a time. Which is good, because some people there were coming dangerously close to associating positive emotions with family. Luckily, she nipped that in the bud.
Before we had gone down to the relatively boring/relatively pain free reunion, my wife and I had kind of semi-decided that we would turn this trip into a mini summer vacation. The plan was to stay overnight in a hotel -far away from anybody's family- and then take the kids to the zoo and the beach the next day. I don't know why we assumed that on a Saturday night in the middle of summer that we'd be able to find a hotel with vacancies left "no problem," but we ended up finding a place after only three tries. The next day we got up had a semi-shitty continental breakfast during which time the only working toaster stopped working and I had to have my second helping of waffles cold which did little for my libido. Finally after only one major "freak out" on the part of my daughter we were on our way to the zoo.
As we got closer it became increasingly clearer that this seemed like an odd place for a zoo. In was in some backwoods town. Elmsville or Elksdale. It's not really important. The point is the whole operation (I say "operation" as opposed to "business" is I'm still not sure if this place was 100% legal) seemed kind of low-rent. The main "office" was cramped and unkempt and the staff seemed apathetic and detached. Of course, that could have been me.
As we made our way into the park the anti-grandeur settled in completely. The cages for the animals were considerably smaller than I'd seen in other zoos and seemed to have been constructed in haste, mostly out of old two by fours and what seemed like heavy-grade chicken wire. After seeing the inside of this zoo I was really surprised there weren't bunch of protesters out front trying to get them to release the animals or stop selling dead giraffes to the local Vietnamese restaurant, or renting out the capybaras (look it up, dickhead) for children's birthday parties or some shit. I have very little patience or respect for protesters of any type. That has no bearing on this particular story. I just think that conventional protesting is ineffective and just plain annoying.
I don't know if the animals were suffering or not (they looked fine to me) but the advantage of having such a small zoo was that the animals were really fucking close which made the experience slightly less boring than the usual zoo experience. I got to pet some giraffes despite the objections of the posted warnings not to and a drunken security guard with an overbite and a build like the president of your high school chess club. I also got up close and personal with several breeds of monkeys who totally freaked me out staring at me with their people eyes. I got the feeling they were up to more than just swinging around, eating bananas and rubbing their genitals on random objects all day. I could tell they were just biding their time until James Franco could come and free them so they could start the New Revolution.
Eventually we found ourselves standing outside the ostrich pen. At first there was nothing out of the ordinary. Then one of those avian giants came over to the section of the fence my family and I were standing at and started pecking at the fence. From our point of view it seemed playful, but I imagine just like the velociraptors in JURASSIC PARK they were looking for weaknesses in order to plot their escape and eventual rampage, feasting on human flesh. At first it was fascinating because of the proximity of the great bird. He was literally like three or four feet away and I got a close look at everything. Then we got double the pleasure double the fun when a second ostrich came over in front of us and started pecking at the fence.
Then things got really funky really quickly.
I didn't realize it at the time, but what we were actually looking at was a male and a female. It didn't click in right away even as our second ostrich friend turned her back to the first and spread her flightless wings. It didn't register even as our first ostrich friend started to climb on top of the the second. Then it hit me.
She wasn't turning her back to him. She was presenting.
He wasn't climbing on top of her. He was mounting her. Hard and fast.
Without even a hint of foreplay these two behemoth birds began fucking right there in front of us. Not making love. Just plain fucking. But more than that. It wasn't just fucking. It was hard fucking. As the male mounted the female from behind he also wrapped his neck around hers and started choking her. And no, it wasn't like some lover's warm embrace. It was hardcore, all out, autoerotic asphyxiation. It was feather-ruffling, down in the dirt, ostrich pussy pounding action.
And then there was a loud splash and I saw a puddle of water underneath these two extroverted avian lovers. Only it wasn't water. It was a virtual pond's worth of hot, sticky ostrich cum. And there was a lot of it. When it overflowed out of the other ostrich's pussy it hit the ground like somebody had dumped out a bucket of water. When it hit, there was actually a wave there was so much of it. And as they finished and the male pulled out I finally got a full on view of ostrich cock.
And it was huge.
And red.
And huge.
And retractable.
And huge.
It was almost like a veliciraptor's claw. It retracted right back up into the ostrich's body. And it was equally as terrifying as the dinosaur's weapon. And just when I thought it was over, the dude whips out his dick again (huge!) and goes back for seconds before she can even stand back up again. Right against the fence. Three feet away from me and my family.
Now, I don't consider myself a prude. I don't like to get naked in front of other dudes at the YMCA locker room after I work out, but I don't think that's such an unnatural urge. I'm more of an intellectual exhibitionist than a physical one, and I've never been one for public nudity. I'm not sure exactly why, but I urged my wife to move on (of course, this was while I was still fixated on the whole weird scene myself). I think it was out of some strange sense of empathy; I just wanted to give these two wild lovers their privacy the same I would want if I was trapped in a zoo with my wife and I mounted her ostrich-style and started fucking her from behind while choking her. I just figured it was a private moment. I don't know if I could fuck with a bunch of strangers watching me (unless I was getting paid obscene amounts of money). I wasn't too concerned about my children seeing anything. It was just sex. My three year old daughter didn't even bat an eye at the whole thing. My nine month old son was sleeping soundly in his mother's arms.
My wife, however, seemed transfixed my the whole thing. She was absolutely fascinated. I couldn't drag her away (though, admittedly, I didn't try too hard). And that was kind of cool. After three years of having kids we've both kind of been reclassified as "mom" and "dad". I'm sure most parent's -especially newer ones- will tell you that your sex life takes a bit of a hit. I'm not complaining or anything. "Moms" and Dads" are social constructs just like everybody else and part of that construction is asexuality. You don't think of parents in terms of sexuality. Their job is to Raise the Children. So to see my wife so into ostrich sex was kind of a turn on. Somewhere deep inside my wife might have some kind of fetish for ostriches. Or maybe ostrich porn. All of the sudden my wife was My Wife, and apparently my wife had a kink for hardcore animal sex. And it was her really honest, human reaction to something as simple as two ostriches fucking that reminded me why we got married in the first place. On that strange scale between Madonna and Whore that our society tends to balance the idea of monogamous femininity it was refreshing and a bit of a turn on to see my wife slide towards Whore. She was a human being just like me who liked fucking just like me with her own kinks just like me. And while I may not share (as strong) a fascination with ostrich sex with my wife, now whenever I think about ostrich sex (which is quite often now) I'll think about my relationship with my wife. (And if my wife wants to spice things up in the bedroom with some ostrich porn, hey, I'm game...)
And the ostrich shall lead them...
Look to the ostrich. Always to the ostrich.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
.jpg)
0 comments:
Post a Comment