A Woman Having Sex With A Monkey

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Ann immediately backed off and licked two fingers. There was considerable outrage, and Benga stayed at the zoo for only a short time; according to the authors Phillips Verner Bradford and Harvey Blume, he was never able to return to Africa, and he became so grief stricken that in he shot himself to death. Zoo Video Tube. Nash attempted to sue the state of Connecticut in but her claim was denied. Tube Zoo.

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As Ann and Will got into the hot sex on the DVD, she turned on the rabbit vibrator, using it to replace her fingers. Reaching the point of no return, Ann positioned the vibrator in her pussy and the little ear on her clit, turning the speed up to medium. She began to tremble and shake, her entire body feeling on fire.

As her orgasm hit her she had to clamp her mouth shut so she would not scream out in pleasure; it was that intense and earth-shattering. Taking in deep gulps of air, Ann flipped off the DVD player and just lay there, satisfied but missing Will. She knew she had no right to be mad at what he did but she was horny and had planned on spending the weekend in bed, but he spoiled her plans thus pissing her off.

Climbing out of bed, she took a quick shower, then padded naked into the kitchen to turn her phone on to find several texts from Will. At first, he was trying to find out why she was not answering his texts and the final one set her off…back into pissed off land. I did nothing wrong but two can play at this game. By the time he pulled in the yard on Thursday afternoon, both were extremely horny from all their shared sex text and pictures.

When Ann read the text she just laughed and went on with what she was doing, making one of his favorite meals — ham, fried potatoes, corn on the cob and cheesecake for dessert. She made enough so there would be some for play later. Will pulled into their driveway about an hour later, exhausted but horny. As he dragged himself in the back door, he took in a deep breath, the delicious smells in the air making his stomach growl.

Were you a stripper in another life? I have also been practicing pole dancing on the pole I had installed in the spare bedroom. Will had been looking to see what was cooking on the stove when she said that and he immediately put the lid back on the pot. I will put on a show for you after supper. Will stared at her, trying to figure out if she was telling the truth or pulling his leg and then decided to check it out himself.

As he made his way down the hall he could hear Ann laughing in the kitchen. He knew immediately she had been joking. Shaking his head, he headed in to take a quick shower instead. When he walked into the kitchen after his shower naked, Ann was just putting the food on the table. Will poured them each a glass of tea and sat down. They ate in silence, both too hungry to do much talking.

Immediately all his body parts went on high alert, especially when she sat down a big cheesecake. Will knew with one that big some was meant for playtime.

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Watching her try to spin her tassels again, he started laughing. His cock was starting to rise to attention. Cutting a piece of cheesecake, Will stood up and began to smear it up and down his cock, including his balls.

Ann stopped what she was doing and looked at Will, trying hard not to laugh at his antics to sound like a gruff macho man. Walking over to her he waggled his cock in front of her mouth. Turning, she got off the chair and knelt down on the floor. She started with his balls, taking them one at a time in her mouth, rolling it around on her tongue, licking the cheesecake from them.

Before he had time to brace himself Will found her tongue going up the back of his shaft, the sensation so strong it almost brought him to his knees. Circling the tip of her tongue around the ridge under the head, she scooped a bit of cheesecake in her mouth and stood up, kissing him as she transferred the bite to his tongue. As he pulled her to him, she could feel the stickiness of his cock against her stomach.

Gently she pushed him back, resuming the gentle cleaning of his cock. Tenderly she sucked on the mushroom head, bringing out a few drops of precum saltiness to mix with the sweetness of the cheesecake; it was a very unique flavor and one she wanted more of. He grabbed two handfuls of her hair to hold her in place as he pushed his cock in as deep as she could manage.

She lavished attention to the head and then pushed him back gently, removing her mouth from his cock. Turning him around she began to lick and nip his ass as she applied pressure to that sensitive area between his balls and anus. The sensual pleasure it caused almost made him shot his load across the room. Ann immediately backed off and licked two fingers.

Moving him around so she could continue to work her magic on his engorged cock, she inserted one and then the second finger in his anus, her thumb gently applying pressure again to that area making Will groan, his cock twitching in her hand. The other hand reached up to play with his nipples. As she leaned forward to swallow him the tassels on her pasties started to tickle his shaft as she moved her mouth up and down.

Manipulating her arm around she was able to rub his balls with her forearm as she fucked his ass. Finally, he could hold back no longer and erupted streams of cum into her mouth and down her throat. Ann continued to administer to his cock until she drained him dry.

Licking the last bit of cheesecake from his balls and cock Ann stood up and kissed him hard, shoving her tongue deep in his mouth. As they kissed, Will, gently pulled the pasties from her boobs and pitched them over his shoulder. He removed her thong, turning her around.

Will grabbed another scoop and rubbed it on her ass. As he kissed his way down her back his hand was stroking her sex slit with light feathery touches. Reaching her ass, Will nipped each cheek, leaving several hickeys. Will began to lick the cheesecake off, his tongue sliding easily up the crack, darting in and out of the hole. By now his finger was lightly doing circles on her clit.

Ann moaned, clenching her legs tightly together, trapping his finger against her clit as her juices started to flow. Knowing that she was close, he stopped rubbing her clit and just let his finger rest on it. Will loved to bring Ann to the edge and then leave her there for several minutes.

Ann began to rub her pussy on his forearm, earning her a stinging slap on the ass. Ann relaxed her thigh muscles and Will slowly pulled away from her clit, unhurriedly finger fucking her with two fingers while he continued lavishing attention to her ass. Standing up, he took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom, pleased to see that she had thought ahead and had turned the covers down.

She had also put on an older sheet they used specifically for this type of sexual play. Ann crawled up to the middle of the bed and spread her legs, taking a dollop of the cheesecake from her boob and put it at the top of her pussy. Will immediately crawled on the bed getting between her legs, blowing his hot breath on her wet sex slit causing her to shiver.

Using his tongue and teeth, he lightly pulled at her pubic hair, occasionally nipping her mound until he had the morsel of cheesecake in his mouth, leaning up to share it with her. Gazing at her with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he slowly and methodically licked, kissed, and sucked his way up her belly.

He made sure to tongue fuck her navel and lightly touch her clit until she was once again on the edge, ready to topple over. Just fuck me damn it! Shove that cock in me…now! Ann tried to pull him down to her but he moved back out of her grasp. Will continued to suckle her breasts like a newborn baby, going from one to the other.

He continued to alternate nipples until her ass was bouncing upwards trying to hump whatever she could touch. Occasionally Will relented and let her have contact with his cock but only briefly. Each time her pussy touched his cock he could feel the wetness. They began with a monthlong series of daily appearances at the Regent Gallery in London.

Gone were the brief classified items; now her physical attributes blossomed into 36 lines of highly detailed, highly exaggerated prose. Wearing scarlet boots, a tight-fitting skirt, and silk panty hose, Pastrana sang an Irish melody — "The Last Rose of Summer" — and danced a bolero, looking every bit like the famed ballerina Fanny Elssler and displaying "a symmetry" that would make the most successful ballet dancers envious.

The surgeon, zoologist, and author Frank Trevelyan Buckland encountered Pastrana at the Regent too, and though he would later lean on the same hackneyed language as Pastrana's ad copy — recalling her "deep black eyes" and "simply hideous features" — he also described her as sophisticated and charitable, a woman who spoke three languages, had excellent taste in music, and even gave graciously to local institutions.

When Barnum stopped by the Regent, he encountered a very different Pastrana, according to G. Van Hare, a showman who was with Barnum and recalled the episode in his memoir. Lent was out, and when she greeted Barnum, a thick veil covered her face; she refused to lift it until her husband reappeared. Pastrana wasn't in London long.

As her celebrity grew, she sold out circus performances in Vienna and Budapest. In Berlin, she met with the explorer and naturalist Alexander Von Humboldt. In Leipzig, a play was written for her — though the police intervened after the second night to prevent the "deformed creature" from harming the "theater's aesthetic frame," as a reporter put it at the time.

Yet the same reporter understood that Pastrana was a phenomenon, so an interview was arranged. In the two-column, one-and-a-half-page story that followed — headlined "Julia Pastrana, A Human Monster" — a large, illustrated profile was included alongside a lengthy, almost pornographic description of her abnormalities: The "strange hair growth" began with "fine fuzz on the forehead.

Toward the end of the piece, the reporter offered a brief description of the encounter. Apparently unaware that Lent and Pastrana were married, the reporter concludes, "Of course, the cosmos was not exactly the chosen subject of conversation. With satisfaction she mentioned the success that she earned on her tour through America and England. In fact, she claimed that she obtained more than 20 marriage proposals.

When I asked her why she had not blessed one of the candidates with her hand, she replied: By the winter of , Pastrana and Lent were in Moscow, and Pastrana was pregnant. She had a narrow pelvis, and her child, a boy, was large, so when she went into labor that March, doctors anticipated a complicated childbirth.

When her son was delivered, on March 20 at 4 p. His forehead, neck, shoulders, and back were covered in hair. Shortly after, he "fell into a state of asphyxia," according to the prominent Russian professor of anatomy J. Thirty-five hours after Pastrana's baby boy was born, he was dead. Pastrana had developed a kind of post-childbirth fever that was frequently lethal, and her increasingly fragile health had morphed into something that resembled one of her exhibitions: A crowd of well-to-do observers surrounded her and she declared her love for Lent.

It is a Hollywood-scripted scene that very well could be fictitious and has seeped into the Pastrana mythology; while Bondeson, for instance, has written that it "seems" to have happened, as A. Miles pointed out in the journal of the Royal College of Surgeons in , the first description of these gawking observers didn't surface until a century after Pastrana's death.

And the dying declaration of love apparently comes from Otto, the circus historian who wasn't yet alive in Lent wasted little time figuring out what to do with his wife and son. Not long after their deaths, Sokolov wrote, their bodies were delivered to him for one purpose — to be embalmed, preserved like taxidermied animals, and then made permanent fixtures at the anatomical museum at the University of Moscow.

With the boy, there were few signs of decomposition. Pastrana, however, was a different matter. Her skin had turned a "dusky" color, Sokolov wrote. Her belly had inflated, and a "reddish fluid" dripped from her mouth and nose. After injecting them with "decay-arresting mixtures," he wrote, the "dark parts began to whiten; the spots where corruption had already set in recovered their normal condition, and after a little time became remarkably firm.

Accounts of what happened next vary. In one version, Lent paid to have Pastrana embalmed but never agreed to allow Sokolov to keep them. In another, Lent is said to have been so impressed by Sokolov's embalming techniques that he reneged on their deal. Lent thought that he could make a fortune by exhibiting her," recalled Van Hare.

Either way, Lent produced their wedding certificate and enlisted American diplomats in Russia to affirm the document; they complied, and Lent retrieved the embalmed bodies for himself. Lent had sold his wife and the boy for pounds, Van Hare wrote. He got them back for nearly twice that. Autopsy photos of Julia Pastrana and her newborn son. Pastrana died in childbirth while in Moscow in By the spring of , Pastrana was again drawing headlines — and the gaze of scientists — in London.

This time, she was at the Burlington Gallery. And she was with her baby boy. She was atop a table, wearing a handmade red dress that she'd worn when she was alive; her limbs, chest, and face were perfectly preserved. Buckland had visited the gallery with a colleague — a prominent taxidermist — who was also stunned.

It doesn't appear that the public was as taken. By the spring of , Lent was marketing a new exhibit — a woman he claimed was Pastrana's sister. She was 16 years old, five feet tall and, as one reporter described her, "resembling her departed relative in her baboon-like features. In Bondeson's telling, Zenora had nothing to do with Julia. She was from Karlsbad, Sweden, and had hirsutism — a condition that causes women to have male-like hair growth.

Lent met her and married her, and by the following year the couple was touring Europe, even though Lent had told her father he wouldn't exhibit her. Meanwhile, a museum in Vienna paid Lent to house Julia Pastrana and her son. When Lent and Zenora retired in Saint Petersburg in the s, the exhibit was still there; it wasn't until after Lent suffered an "acute weakening of the brain," as Bondeson described it, and was placed in an insane asylum, where he presumably died, that Zenora Pastrana retrieved them.

She didn't keep Julia Pastrana and her son long. They were part of a wax medical cabinet that, among other things, contained life-size human figures that portrayed what infectious diseases like gonorrhea and syphilis did to the body. That, at least, is what Milton Kaufman thought. Kaufman was the colorful American operator of a traveling carnival, Gooding's Million Dollar Midways.

When Hans began telling Kaufman about Pastrana, he was immediately intrigued. During the summer of , the Lunds took their first trip to the U. They were exhibited in a three-sided glass case that contained an ornate, silk-lined wooden carriage. Pastrana was still wearing her red dress; one arm was akimbo, the other dangled at her side. Her beard was gone, and she appeared stoic, as if she'd just breathed in a deep gulp.

Her son, who was perched beside her on a pole, stood ramrod straight. Little publicity accompanied the tour, Lund tells me, and few seemed to find the exhibit — which included a poster detailing Pastrana's history — compelling. This is wax. After the Lunds returned to Norway, they took the Pastrana exhibit on the road again — this time as far as Sweden — but were dogged by negative publicity.

The Catholic Church in Oslo believed Pastrana should be buried, while scientists argued to preserve her for future research, recalls Berit Sellevold, a retired archaeologist with the Norwegian Institute for Cultural Heritage. He ran the family business, so he placed Pastrana and her son in a storage warehouse in Rommen, an Oslo suburb. Toverud later wrote, the building, with its corrugated iron and shuttered windows and doors, made an intriguing target for the young and thrill-seeking; the same year that Hans died, four young friends bent open a metal plate that protected a warehouse window and burst into its arched, hangar-like interior.

What they found was a teenager's dream: There were go-karts. There were bumper cars. And there was the glass case that contained Pastrana and her son, who by then looked like he had been devoured by rodents. They grabbed Pastrana and her son, believing them to be mannequins, and, with police arriving at the scene, darted from the building.

All they managed to escape with was an arm that had been torn from one of the bodies — an arm they soon realized was human and which they promptly turned over to the authorities. Shortly after, the group broke in again. This time, Pastrana and her son had disappeared. But I didn't have many thoughts about Julia.

I didn't spend any time on it. There, amid a clutter of chairs and tables, stacks of tires and life-size carnival figures, is the worn wooden carriage in which she once stood. In , Jan Bondeson was a young doctor studying for a Ph. He'd read about Pastrana in, among other places, Frederick Drimmer's.

Bondeson had always been interested in Pastrana — who was still missing — and a colleague tipped him off about where she might be found. So Bondeson picked up a copy of. So he wrote to the department director, who granted him access, and Bondeson soon found himself in a dark basement, staring into a closet where, next to a Hoover vacuum, Pastrana's nearly naked body was attached to a large board.

All that was left of her original costume was a pair of boots. She was missing an arm, and one of her eyes was gone. There was no sign of her son, and Bondeson later wrote in his book that he had been eaten by mice. Bondeson stayed for half the day. He took hair samples and radiographs and examined the techniques used to preserve her body. Using these results, Bondeson diagnosed Pastrana's afflictions.

The overgrown hair was most likely caused by a genetic defect known as congenital generalized hypertrichosis terminalis, a condition that, unlike hirsutism, causes excess hair growth all over the body. The protruding jaw, meanwhile, could be traced to gingival hyperplasia, which buried her teeth beneath overdeveloped gums.

After Bondeson published his findings, a frenzy over Pastrana's body started anew. By the mids, competing requests — some serious, some from "various quacks and fortune hunters," as Bondeson puts it to me — were made: Should she be a medical museum exhibit? Should she be burned on a funeral pyre?

Should she be buried? In the spring of , the director of the University of Oslo convened a committee to evaluate Pastrana's case. By November, a conclusion had been reached: Pastrana had been treated in an "ethically reprehensible" manner. Though an administrative board at the university argued that she should be buried in Norway, she was, instead, placed in a sealed coffin and stored in a temperature-regulated, moisture-controlled room at the university.

There, amid a vast assortment of bones and other archaeological relics known as the Shreiner Collection, she was under the care of Holck, who believed her body could be useful. The few facts of Pastrana's life that are known have become fodder for all manner of creative interpretation. In ,. In , an Italian film,. In the play. She enlisted her sister, Laura Anderson Barbata, for costume design — this production's first three minutes were lit.

The play ended on a grim note, with Pastrana telling the audience that she was 26, and in a dark closet in Norway where no one was allowed to see her. Shortly after the play's six-week run in New York began in the fall of , someone suggested using it to help bring Pastrana's body back to Mexico. She wrote a brief cover letter, which she attached to a yellow notepad that contained approximately signatures, and sent the package to the Norwegian Embassy in Washington, D.

Culebro moved on, and Anderson Barbata went back to work on a project that involved stilt-dancers in Trinidad. When she began, she didn't have a project in mind, but she immediately found herself drawn to Pastrana. She, too, was from Sinaloa. She'd grown up in Mazatlan, where her father managed a restaurant and where, as a child, she'd danced for his American and Canadian patrons.

She'd also been moved by her sister's play. And then it doesn't stop there when you die. It goes on. I always say, when Julia walks in, be prepared. You're going to be spend a lot of time with her. Pastrana raised all kinds of important issues as well — issues of human trafficking and objectification and, most pressing, what to do with her now.

Repatriating her body to Mexico would likely be her goal, but she was hardly ready to make a formal request. First, she needed to find out as much as she could: The Shreiner Collection, she soon found out, had long been a magnet for controversy. Like other collections in Europe and the United States, this was a relic of colonialism — it was the largest repository of skulls belonging to the Sami people, the ethnic minority group indigenous to Northern Europe and Russia.

Many of these skulls were obtained by pillaging churchyards and graves; two came from a midth-century uprising, when rebel leaders were caught, convicted of killing Norwegian officials, and decapitated. At the time, ethnic origin research was booming, the most cutting-edge of which was thought to come from the examination of skulls.

So the heads were sent to the anatomical institute in Oslo. One was later found in a museum in Copenhagen. In , when a descendant of one of the dead men began demanding the return of one of the skulls, the university refused. Holck, who became the Shreiner's curator in the mids, tells me the that descendant wasn't, in fact, related, and he was thus barred from releasing it, but Sellevold, the archaeologist, put it this way: In the end, Holck was overruled by university leadership, and the skulls were buried.

In the summer of , the curator at the Office of Contemporary Art, Christiane Erharter, wrote an introductory note to Holck on behalf of Anderson Barbata, explaining who she was and how she was interested in finding out more about Pastrana. Holck agreed to respond to a "few lines," as he put it in an email; Anderson Barbata followed up with 19 detailed questions.

She wanted to know how, for instance, the collection benefited the advance of science and medicine, and what, as the Shreiner's curator, Holck thought were appropriate and inappropriate uses of indigenous human remains. She wanted to know what kind of medical research had been conducted on Pastrana, and why her body, instead of just a tissue sample, needed to remain there.

On Sept. Therefore we treat them with dignity. When I ask Holck if he remembered the exchange, he says he's been contacted by numerous people over the years who wanted to see or exhibit Pastrana, and his impression was that Anderson Barbata was no different. He'd said as much a decade ago, in the back-and-forth with Erharter, an idea that she quickly dispelled.

In Anderson Barbata's view, Holck's brevity meant that she'd have to begin elsewhere. So she published a death notice in a local newspaper and — though she wasn't positive Pastrana was Catholic — she organized a mass in a small Oslo church. She also met a woman named Hilde Nagell, who directed an advisory board that had been set up in the aftermath of the Sami controversies. The board was designed to weigh the ethics of human remains research, and Nagell — who attended the mass — appeared far more sympathetic than Holck.

So Anderson Barbata again submitted her long list of questions. Postal snags and bureaucratic sluggishness gummed up this process for three years, but when the board's four-page response arrived in the summer of , their message was clear to Anderson Barbata: Find Pastrana's descendants. Get them involved. She thought it would be fairly easy to track down relatives through DNA or by searching for Mexicans with congenital hypertrichosis.

Yet no DNA sample had ever been taken, and she discovered that Pastrana's variety of hypertrichosis rarely manifests, even in families where it is present. So she reached out to Sinaloan historian Mimiaga, who began trying to track down birth records and ancestors.

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And the dying declaration of love apparently comes from Otto, the circus historian who wasn't yet alive in So Bondeson picked up a copy of. By the mids, competing requests — some serious, some from "various quacks and fortune hunters," as Bondeson puts it to me — were made: Only the broadest contours of Pastrana's early life are known. Zoo Sexy Thumbs. Retrieved September 21, We should say it really loud, so they can hear it all the way around the world.

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  • She lavished attention to the head and then pushed him back gently, removing her mouth from his cock.
  • When Lent and Zenora retired in Saint Petersburg in the s, the exhibit was still there; it wasn't until after Lent suffered an "acute weakening of the brain," as Bondeson described it, and was placed in an insane asylum, where he presumably died, that Zenora Pastrana retrieved them.
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Just waiting to see it go all the way down. I feel slightly disappointed.

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