Cross-country bikers who travel cuntless usually discover that toleave one
nagging problem behind simply leaves a throbbing one in front.Fortunately, America's farmlands
provide an abundance of domestic live-stock that can be exploited to reduce the swelling. The biker
who uses suchmeans may know that he is practicing a tradition sufficiently ancient tohave been
denounced by Moses. Unfortunately, sex manuals neglect this dimension of sexual prac-tice. They
tell how it's done in a dozen countries, of acrobatic positions,of how to use cunt juice as a sauce
for roast squab, but tell nothing of shagging animals. The following treatise may well be the first
of its kind.Hopefully, this pioneer work will stimulate public discussion of animal-fucking.
Perhaps someone will initiate a monthly journal devoted thereto,complete with centerfolds,
advertisements for helpful apparatus, and a question-answer column (which the author hereof, being
the only one quali-fied, volunteers to write). Further, the author hereof swears on a greasychop
manual that the lore presented herein has been gathered from years of attendance to the discourse
of plowboys, mule-skinners, swineherds, chick-en thieves, and others of like ilk, well qualified to
instruct. Henceforth,no biker should begin a cross-country run without taking this copy of
Easy-riders along for guidance. Given the brevity of this guide, only the rudimentary
proceduresappropriate to common domestic livestock can be outlined. Exotic foreignspecies such as
the yak or alpaca and wildlife such as bears and moose areexcluded, as are dogs, these topics
deserving treatises to themselves. To consider cows first. Cows are basically nervous. They're
likethe prick-teasers of the 50's who would bat their eyelashes, lean over to showtheir boobs,
flounce their skirts to show a beaver, and then shriek likehell if some bothered dude tweaked a
tit. Cows can be attracted by a handfulof cottonseed meal, a piece of bread (preferably whole
wheat), even a bunchof grass. They will hang around, switching their tails to show off theircunts,
then get jumpy and run off as soon as the cow-screwer gets serious. Therefore, to fuck a cow
requires that it be immobilized, a fact longrecognized in rural architecture. As long as milkmaids
did the milking, itwas done in the open, the cow being kept in place by a bucket of eating goodies.
With the development of large dairies, men took over and the barnsbuilt to shelter milking were
cleverly contrived to assist cow-screwing. The cow was headed into a stall, its head locked in a
stanchion, andhobbles added according to the disposition of the cow and the agility of
thecow-shagger. Posts ran up to support the roof at the cow-ass end of the stall,these posts being
connected by horizontal 2x4s. The 2x4 presumably provideda place from which to hang milk buckets,
stools, hobbles, and so on, but was,of course, carefully placed for cow-shagging, its height
indicating thefavorite technique. If about a foot above a man's reach, the cow-fucker leaptup, hung
from the 2x4, and swung in to hook his heels in the cow's flanks,from which position he could
achieve suitable intromission, regulating thestroke with his legs. Were the 2x4 only slightly above
head-high, the screwer clambered overand hung by the armpits. He poked the cow in the ass with a
toe and when thecow switched her tail, he grabbed it in both hands, placed feet athwarthamstrings,
and by pulling on the tail and heaving with the feet, could ef-fectively achieve his purpose. This
latter method lacks the passionateviolence of the former, but suggests the method for the itinerant
bikerwho must make do without the niceties of dairy barns. Having found a cow, enticed it into
grabbing range, and tethered itto a fence post, the biker goes behind, removes his boots, and gets
hisin-her tube out. He grasps the tail, catches one hamstring between big toeand the next (like a
shower thong), heaves up, catches the other hamstring,and begins to ream properly. Unfortunately,
cows have two serious faults. First, they'll shit allover you. You can't even fool them into
dumping first by gigging them with aratchet handle. The cow waits till the humper starts driving in
to finish, then lets out about a gallon of slurpy, green cowshit. The poor, fucking bas-tard will
splash it all up his shirt and get his pants full, and be grateful that he took his boots off. Part
2 Second, a cow is an indifferent piece, somewhat like thigh-fucking a flabby, lard-loaded,
ass-drooping fat woman; that is, hope-lessly loose, ill-defined, and unresponsive, like screwing a
plastic bag ofwarm Jello. Calves are some improvement, but their common diarrhea-likeailment known
as "scours" renders them totally unfit. Yearlings are best, like median-age women, less full of
shit but not yet become vindictive. Asa final note, the beef breeds, Angus and Hereford, are most
tractable. Ofdairy breeds, Shorthorn and Brown Swiss are preferred to Holsteins, whichare
especially likely to shit, and to Jerseys, which are just too damnnervous. Horses are better than
cows. Like some women, if you can get closeenough to talk to them, you can probably screw them.
Also, like women who mustbe taken to dinner or who get hot giving head, they can be seduced by
edibles,preferably raisins. Sugar cubes are used only in kids' stories. A horse willstand still to
be fucked, but won't tolerate any messing with its tail orfeet. Hence, cow technique will not work,
and a horse-fucker must have some-thing to stand on. Traditionally, horses were "stump-broke"; that
is, trainedto back up to a stump, presumably to aid a bareback rider to mount and dis-mount, but,
in fact, to assure cooperation when the plowboy wanted a piece.If biking in a group, members can
support each other in turn. Else, the horsecan be backed up to a parked scoot, provided it has
cooled. Horses don't likehot, greasy metal smells. A horse gives a good fuck, if a frustrating one.
The big ass inter-feres with getting in deep, and while it's warm, firm, and confining, thehorse
fucker senses a tremendous amount of unused cunt that he simply can'treach. Guys uptight about
their bore and stroke shouldn't screw horses. Hasty fuckers will prefer goats, the most convenient
of all animalsto screw. An adult nanny stands just high enough for a bent-kneed fuck andthe tail
flips up as soon as the goat feels something poking at its snatch.A nanny gives a good fit and puts
up no objections. In fact, that's what'swrong with goats. They just don't care. A goat can take on
a whole bike cluband chew its cud the whole time. A cow gets nervous like something wild
ishappening; a horse gets comfortable, like it digs what's happening; but a goat, like a Tijuana
whore paid in advance, doesn't care whether anything ishappening. Sheep, though, are one of the
choice pieces among quadrupeds, a factlong known (and kept suppressed) by shepherds. Like the girl
next door, sheep want the fucker to be friendly, kind, and just aggressive enough to dothe job, and
they give back a fair fuck in return. A cartoon in _Easyriders_ (January '75, page 50) illustrates
a pairof bikers screwing some sheep by a method that would work only with an over-sized Rambouilett
ewe or with very short bikers.

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 Also, anyone who used thenaive technique illustrated would spend
most of his time chasing the sheeparound the pasture. To properly screw a sheep, pull your pants
legs up aboveyour boot tops, hoist the sheep by the tail, and drop its hind feet intoyour boots.
With the sheep thus elevated and secured, the trousers can belowered and milady enjoyed. The sheep
will look over its shoulder a lot; hence, the idea that onemust kiss a sheep, a notion that has led
some authorities to urge a sheep-superior position, i.e., biker supine, sheep's forelegs astraddle
his chest, etc. The idea is just plain silly. A sheep doesn't give a rat's ass whetheryou kiss it
or not. Sheep do groove on sniffing each other's asses, so afoul-breathed sheep-fucker can blow
some her way. However, it's hardly anecessary gesture; sheep certainly don't insist on it. Now,
while a sheep is a good piece, it may, unfortunately, have VD,either clap or syph. Indeed, some
medical historians believe VD came topeople from sheep. Sheep-fuckers should avoid any that are
obviously drip-ping foul stuff, and should carry protection for others. Rubbers, "sold onlyfor the
prevention of disease," are readily available, and if not, a prophy-lactic buffer of grease can be
applied to the moving part. Vaseline is a virtual standard, but wheel bearing grease will do as
well. Some users reportgratifying results with coarse fibre grease, while others say a rapid
strokerequires a proper high-speed lithium-base grease with molybdenum additives,and yet others
insist on vegetable-base lubricants, since petroleum-baselubricants form carbon under heat and
pressure, wherefore the sheep-fuckermay withdraw his pushrod to find it coated with black,
carbonized grease thatrequires repeated applications of Gunk or, worse yet, steam cleaning to
re-move. Given the potential difficulties, a sheep-fucker should carry rubbers. Part 3 Though easy
to screw, sheep are stupid. You can't develop a mean-ingful relationship with a sheep; hence, the
notorious promiscuity af shep-herds. The animal that demands personalized cuddling and which
returns aff-ection with an excellent fuck is a pig. The pig-fucker must enter the sty casually,
like cruising at a party,as if getting laid were the last thing on his mind. He must greet each
sowand give a scratch or two. Once he has chosen one, he must devote full at-tention to her. He
kneels on one side and scratches behind ears and down thesnout with one hand while the other hand
scratches along the back and sidesuntil reaching the tail, at which point the first hand works back
and sideswhile the other hand goes under the tail to rim the cunt. Thorough court-ship involves
finger-fucking to assure the sow is ready. Meanwhile, the pig-screwer must gently ease the sow into
a corner ofthe pen, thus to inhibit her lateral movement. Any movements she can make willbe
agreeable fore-and-aft motions. Once she is cornered and finger-fucked intoreadiness, the biker
inserts his rod. However, he must not slacken hiscaresses. If the sow thinks she's being taken for
granted, she will sit down.And if the other sows see that, you'll never get screwed in that pigsty.
Apig will not cooperate with a fucker who thinks she's too easy. A pig is an even better piece than
a sheep, and a well-fucked sow will grunt appreciatively. Opinions differ, though, on whether a pig
is bestof all. One ancient declared wistfully, in his impotent dotage, that "I'vefucked just about
everything, but I always liked pussy best." Asked about"second best," he replied at once: "A
chicken." The old man knew his fucking. If a pig isn't second best, a chickenis. A hen doesn't need
much petting, but she does need to be talked to. Someauthorities view this talk as like that used
on those women who will bedivested of garments and shagged in every position as long as the word
"sex"is never uttered. Others view it as the "sweet nothings" that add their owndimension to
getting laid. Either way, you've got to talk to a chicken. The approach begins with the
chicken-fucker getting down on all foursto establish eye contact (while avoiding inadvertent hand
contact with chick-en shit), and saying "kuh-kuh-kuh." That's the basic line, but it can bevaried
to "keh-keh-keh" or "kee-kee-kee," if uttered in tones of sincere passion and devotion. Don't,
however, say "chickey-chickey-chickey," forthat's how farmers call chickens. To a chicken, it
sounds like an order, whichis a turn-off. Once a chicken comes close and begins to respond to the
small talk, ahand goes under its breast and belly and the hen is lifted up. Once its feet lose
purchase, a chicken will sit still. However, the chicken-fucker must keeptalking as he gets his
cock into place. Don't be offended by the thought thata chicken's asshole and its cunt are
functionally the same aperture, of whichonly one is provided. The chicken isn't going to apologize
for it, and cer-tainly, among humankind, the former has been taken for the latter oftenenough and
the fucker never the wiser. As with a porcupine, a chicken must be screwed carefully. Even
allow-ing for the exaggeration of bike-club boasting, your average Rhode Island Redcan't
accommodate more than half the average biker's cock, a Leghorn no more than a third. However, as
anyone who has watched an egg being laid knows, that half or third can enjoy some extraordinary
hospitality. The old fucker quoted earlier added a note on how chicken-screwingcould be elevated to
the sublime. "Just as you go off," said he, "you cut itsthroat. That last, dying quiver..." This
refinement presents the biker with adismaying choice. To cut the throat of the chicken he has
spoken to so in-timately, the hen he has cultivated so carefully, seems to border on murder;to kill
for mere lust seems gross beyond mention. Yet, one has not properlyfucked a chicken unless one goes
all the way. Rural tradition did not view the matter as morally reprehensible. Usually, when the
family got home from church, the farmwife sent a twelvishson to fetch a chicken for Sunday dinner.
Son fucked the chicken beforekilling it, and enjoyed the dying quiver as a concomitant to obeying
hismother's orders. The biker, then, can resolve the moral dilemma simply by taking the chicken
along for roasting over the campfire. Any further doubtscan be obviated by recalling that to spare
the chicken may only mean its ultimate delivery into the fatal custody of Colonel Sanders. In
cutting the chicken's throat, the knife should be placed behindthe neck and directed forward and
down. To cut from under and upward mayresult in a faceful of chicken blood that severely distracts
from that ex-quisite dying quiver. If buddies help, they can see to the cutting while the fucker
concentrates on the quiver. More could be said, of course, but as most readers hereof will
benovices at animal-fucking, they should concentrate on mastering the funda-mentals outlined here
before attempting creative variations. Even the ele-mentary level of animal-fucking will provide
the cuntless biker's rigidstroker with solace superior to that available from a grimy hand.

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