Chapter 1

I've given lots of thought lately to how sexual fantasies begin, and then take on a life of their own, soon changing from something that is occasionally present during sex to something we think of most of the time. Once a fantasy reaches that stage, it's just a short step until it becomes an obsession, and when that happens, what was once just a pleasant daydream becomes all-consuming, even to the point that nothing can stand in the way of its realization. I'm sure you already know that's exactly what happened with me, and that I'm now going to tell you the details so you can avoid the path I traveled, and the consequences that I'm now living with, assuming you care to. As for me, I'm happy with the way everything has worked out, and wouldn't change a single part of it.

My fantasy began about four years after my wife, Kathy, and I tied the knot. I'll never know just what first planted the idea in my mind, other than she would on occasion make a comment about some particularly good-looking man we would see in the grocery store or some other place. She never once indicated she'd like to have sex with the fellow, but somehow the idea of that happening began to dominate my thoughts more and more. I'll leave the psychoanalysis to others, and won't attempt to justify my fantasy with lots of big words and rationalizations. Suffice it to say that soon after the idea first popped into my fevered brain, it was just about all I ever thought of when we were in bed together. Within a year after that, I was spending hour after hour surfing the Internet, looking for Websites that would fan the flames of my perversion. Every story about a woman having extra-marital sex, every photograph of a woman being fucked by another man while her husband watched, and every blog written by a cuckold served to further inflame me. In short, my fantasy had become an obsession.

It didn't stop there, as it should have. In fact, it became more and more perverted. You see, what happened was that I stumbled across a Website that was called, innocently enough, "farmgirls." Thinking that I'd see photos of luscious babes driving tractors and doing other sorts of work around the farm, I signed up to join the site. That was the beginning of my descent into the special part of hell that's reserved for perverts like me.

What the Website actually dealt with, as most of you already know, was women having sexual relations, not with other men, but with farm animals, and from the first moment I saw the photos and read the stories, I was lost. From then on, all I could think of was my lovely wife being in those same situations, being penetrated by every animal from a small dog to a stallion. Of course, in my mind's eye, I was standing right there beside her, watching as she was bred by rams and bulls, seeing the unbridled passion on her face and listening to her cries of joy as her "lovers" brought her to higher and higher levels of arousal.

It was probably three months after my first introduction to that perversion that I stumbled across a link to a hotel in a small European country that called itself, "Animal Farm Resort." The name alone was enough to capture my attention, but when I clicked the link, and then read the descriptive paragraphs and saw the photos, I knew I'd at last found the answer to my prayers.

The sub-title alone, right beneath the name of the hotel, was enough to transfix me. It read, "Bring your spouse to us, and we'll fulfill every perverted fantasy you've ever had about her and farm animals." There were dozens of photos of women being bred by farm animals, in every position imaginable. The one that captivated my imagination, though, showed women tied face down to what was called a "mounting platform." It was nothing more than a simple table upon which the woman had been placed, with her wrists and ankles tied to iron rings in the floor below. The rings securing her ankles were placed far apart, assuring her crotch would be stretched as wide open as possible, giving her "lover" easy access to her charms. I'm sure I stared for hours at the photos showing woman after woman spread open like that, with rampant stud animals preparing to mount her, or with their penises already buried deep, spreading her hole to its maximum extent. In every instance, in my imagination it was my wife tied there, her voice uttering cries of ecstasy and begging for more and larger animals to breed her.

The next paragraph went on in more detail, claiming that even the most reluctant wife would soon be an enthusiastic participant, even if her enthusiasm had to be "aided" by certain potions which would be secretly added to her food and drink while at the resort. It was claimed that any woman would be unable to resist the charms of the stud animals housed in the hotel's stables, and would quickly demand that she be serviced by their dogs, boars, rams, bulls, and stallions. That was the answer to my prayers, and I knew I'd at last found what I'd been seeking for such a long time. All I had to do was devise a plan to get us to the Animal Farm Resort, and my beautiful Kathy would soon be engaged in sexual relations with every animal imaginable, while I stood nearby watching, at last giving free rein to my obsession.

Our sixth wedding anniversary would be celebrated slightly more than three months in the future, after I first read the advertisement for the hotel, and that was the basis of my underhanded plan to get my wife to agree to go to Europe. That very night, I broached the subject of us making the event really special by celebrating it in some foreign country, and while Kathy was initially reluctant, she at last agreed it would probably be fun. Her assent was music to my ears, and I booked our reservation that very night, with my head filled all the while with visions of her being mounted by animals of every description and size, and her demanding more and more, each with a larger penis than the last.

I was sure Kathy would need the particular type of "help" the resort offered, and in the comments I added to the booking, I specified that "medicinal assistance" should be available, and that it should be discreetly administered. Within just a few hours, I had received confirmation from the hotel, and our fate was sealed.

That night, my desire could not be denied, and when Kathy at last rolled to her back and parted her legs to allow me entry, I immediately lay atop her. However, even before my first thrust was completed, my extreme arousal overcame me, and my swollen balls began to empty inside her. That had been happening more and more often as my fantasy turned to obsession, and at last her patience with me came to an end.

She said in exasperation, "What's going on, honey? Can't you at least wait until I'm ready, too? Don't my own orgasms mean anything?"

All I could do was apologize in shame, and try to reassure her that her pleasure was very important to me, but that I found it impossible to withhold my own release. She lay there in silence for awhile, then reached down and placed her hand on my wilting penis. In a disgusted tone of voice, she said, "Well, it looks like you can't do anything with that, can you? If you really mean it that it's important for me to cum, too, then you'll just have to use something else, won't you?" With no hesitation, she placed one hand on the top of my head, then firmly pushed it toward her crotch.

As with most husbands who long to be cuckolded, I had fantasized about licking her lover's cum from my wife's pussy, and when I realized she was now almost demanding that I do something similar, I was instantly aroused once again. I'm sure that was the only reason I was able to do something most men would find disgusting, which was to lick a vagina that was filled with my own semen. Whatever it was, that's what I did, and Kathy demonstrated her pleasure with my efforts by climaxing in record time.

As we lay cuddling and kissing in the afterglow of good sex, she said in a throaty whisper, "You're better at eating than at fucking. Maybe that's the way we should do it from now on. Hmmm?" Unthinkingly, I whispered my assent, never dreaming she was serious. However, the very next night she demonstrated just how serious she was, because the moment I had ejaculated prematurely, she placed both her hands on my shoulders and pushed my body downward, saying, "Get down there and eat me. Hurry!" Once again, I did as she wanted, and once again she exploded in orgasm, filling my eager mouth with what I'd so recently filled her pussy. After that, I needed no urging to do as she wanted, and in the days and nights that dragged by as we waited for our vacation, that mode of sex became standard for us.

There was one change that seemed to happen almost overnight about two weeks after I'd booked our stay at the Animal Farm Resort. The change was all in Kathy, and I was so pleased with it that it never occurred to me to wonder what had caused it.

In the past, we had always had sex with my wife lying on her back, and me on top, in what is called the "missionary position." That changed on the night in question, when after a short period of foreplay, she pushed me to my back and then straddled my crotch, impaling herself on my dick. She said nothing other than, "This'll be better."

It evidently wasn't any better, or worse, for me, though. As always before, my balls began to empty as soon as I entered her. With no hesitation, she lifted off my deflating penis, then moved to my mouth. In the husky whisper that signaled her arousal, she said, "Eat it, damn you! You've been leaving some of your slime inside me, and from now on you're going to suck out every drop."

As expected, that's exactly what I did. Not only that night, but every night up until two weeks preceding our departure date, when she announced that she thought we should make our anniversary even more special by not having sex until we got to the resort. By that time, I would have done anything for her, and reluctantly agreed to her conditions. Believe me, the next two weeks and two days were the longest in my life.