This is the story of how I became active in bestiality. I say active because in all honesty, I think the interest was always there for me, at least from my early teens when I started becoming aware of my sexuality. But, as with many things in my life, it took a while before I acted on my desires.

My name is Lisa and I’m a college student, majoring in English Literature, which might go a long ways towards explaining why I’m writing this. It’s good practice. I’m Amerasian by birth, my father is American and my mother was from the Philippines. I’m attractive and outgoing, petite with smallish breasts and narrow hips, but my butt is perfect and my legs are nice and toned like the rest of me. I love working out, keeping busy and sweating always feels good, and besides ... being a little hardbody is a good thing, right? My hair is long and black, my eyes soft brown and only slightly almond shaped. My skin as you’ve probably guessed is like golden honey in the winter, but during the heat of summer I get really brown all over.

I have a couple boyfriends, but nothing too serious. I have so many things to do before I can even begin to think about settling down. Too many of my friends got married before they were ready, most of them gave me good advice to wait. I’m not too worried about guys anyway, I have everything I need pretty much without them, so it’s nice to be a little independent for a change. And when it comes to sex? You may wonder, well I have everything I need there too.

He’s a 3 year old black lab named Midnight, who is probably the love of my life, only fate decided to play some sort of cruel joke. Oh, I don’t think Midnight was supposed to be a man or anything silly like that, he’s much too perfect as a dog. No, I think I was supposed to have been a bitch. Somehow I just ended up in the wrong body. But true love always finds a way to overcome such minor inconveniences, and so Midnight and I have adapted.

But this isn’t about Midnight and me, this goes to a time before I even found Midnight. I want to tell you about a bulldog named Mike who was the one who really got me started. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Mike I seriously doubt I would be with Midnight now. So perhaps fate tries to correct her own mistakes as well. But, even before I can properly get to Mike, I need to talk about washing a horse.

In the summer of my 18th year my family was holding a big reunion. Apparently there are a lot more Pavageau’s around than I suspected, being an only child like I am. It seems we have a number of relatives in Canada, in Quebec, naturally enough, and one of my father’s cousins was hosting the reunion. Her name is Evelyn and she owned a small horse farm outside Montreal. She enclosed some photographs with her invitation and it looked beautiful, as did Cousin Evelyn. She was quite striking in her traditional riding attire. Complete with the cream colored pants tucked into gleaming leather boots, and a white blouse beneath a red wool jacket that hugged her body, Evelyn was holding a short riding crop and smiling. On the back of her picture she’d penned, ‘I won’t take no for an answer!’ and I thought it was just too perfect.

The unfortunate truth of it though, was that my father’s vacation time had already been scheduled for the last two weeks in June. The family reunion was being held in July and try as he might, my father simply couldn’t change the dates. At first he suggested I travel there alone, but I really wasn’t too keen on that, so we just accepted the fact that we couldn’t go. When Daddy called Evelyn to give her the bad news though, she was as good as her word and wouldn’t let him decline.

“You’ll just have to come in June then, Robert,” she told him with her wonderfully French accented voice. “You’ll bring Lisa and we’ll have a small reunion all our own.”

“But, Evelyn, we wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Nonsense!” I listened in on the upstairs extension, smiling as I heard her words. “It’s settled then!”

And so it was that Daddy and I drove from Seattle to Montreal over a rather long 3 days, arriving tired, and hungry, a little sore, but very happy. Evelyn greeted us even as we exited the car and started stretching. She looked even prettier than she had in her photo, despite wearing dusty jeans, a chambray shirt, and some heavy work gloves.

“Robert!” she exclaimed and walked over to us quickly, embracing my father and kissing him on both cheeks. “And this must be little Lisa!” she hugged me very tightly and I giggled and raised my eyebrows at my Daddy, surprised by the woman’s exuberance. “Not so little, I dare say!” Then she kissed me as well.

“Evelyn,” he returned her warm smile. “It’s been a long time. You look great!”

And she did too. Evelyn was maybe 35 years old with straight, jet-black hair cut short in the front and falling to her shoulders in the back. Her eyes were bright blue and her skin creamy and white and I wondered how she kept it that way since she obviously did a lot of work outside.

“So do you!” she laughed. “And your daughter, my my Robert, what an angel!” She was staring at me in a direct and honest way that made me feel a little self-conscious. “Speaking of angels, I have one of my very own here, someplace,” Evelyn looked around. “Angela! Angela, come here please and meet our guests!”

A young woman of about 20 appeared then, coming from a small barn and leading a large and beautiful black horse by it’s bridal. She was small, even smaller than I was, standing maybe 5’ tall and she couldn’t have weighed more than 90lbs soaking wet with her clothes on. She had long blonde hair, that curled at the ends, and continually blew across her light blue eyes. Her face was fresh and open and smiling.

“Angela, I’d like you to meet Robert and his daughter, Lisa. This is my ... Helper. My little horse girl, Angela.” Evelyn introduced us while the girl shook our hands, smiling and nodding. “Robert is my ... hmmm...” Evelyn giggled sweetly. “Third cousin? Fourth? Something like that, I have no idea how these things work. We’re more friends than relatives anyway, isn’t that so?”

“I think we’re third cousins, twice removed. Our great-grandfathers were brothers. Which means we’re only related when it’s convenient, the rest of the time...”

“The rest of the time he never calls!” They both laughed and Angela smiled and I giggled, seeing a side of my father that rarely came out. I was glad we’d come.

Angela was wearing a t-shirt that looked small, even for her diminutive size, and a pair of khaki shorts that really showed off her nice legs. A pair of old work boots, with the frayed laces undone and dragging in the dust completed the relaxed farm girl look. I wondered if I’d be so comfortable by the end of our 10 days with Evelyn.

“It is a pleasurable meeting for me,” Angela said and I wondered what kind of accent that was. “I am from Argentina, originally, but soon I will be from here.”

“Angela is an immigrant, we’re working on her Canadian citizenship,” Evelyn smiled at the small woman, who barely stood up to Evelyn’s full breasts. “She’s a jockey.”

“Really?” I’d never even ridden a horse and I think they frightened me just a little.

Angela nodded and pulled the large animal she was tending closer. “Next week we shall fly, my beautiful stud and I.” She stroked the horse’s nose and pulled him down further so she could kiss him for us on the smooth short hair just above and between his huge round eyes.

“Yes, next week you will fly, but this week you will wash!” Evelyn gave the girl a gentle swat on her butt and clapped her hands. “Hurry up now.”

Angela grinned at Evelyn and then looked at me, “Time for bathing, would you like to see this also?”

“You’re going to give the horse a bath?” I laughed, mostly I suppose because I’d never considered that someone would wash a horse. “Sure,” I looked at Daddy.

“Go ahead, Lisa, I’ll take care of the bags. You go relax a bit.”

I smiled and stood tip-toe to kiss his cheek, “Thanks Daddy!” and skipped a few steps to catch up with Angela, heading towards a blue and white shed looking structure.

Angela and I made small talk while she opened the large door of the over-sized shed and led the horse inside. It looked like a do-it-yourself carwash, more than anything else, complete with a low-pressure jet sprayer and a soaping bristle brush. Angela had been here almost 3 years, having met Evelyn when her father had visited Montreal to sell some horses. Her family had a long history with the animals and she’d had her first horse when she was just 3 years old, a small pony named Gaucho.

“You should stand over there, Lisa, or perhaps I will wet you!” she smiled and I moved to the spot indicated as she began washing the large animal like it was a car.

About the time she started spraying the horse, I was suddenly attacked by the ugliest dog I’d ever seen in my life! Not viciously mind you, nothing like that, it was more like the beast was trying to rape me! Luckily he seemed to have a leg fetish. I’d been watching Angela when a bulldog trotted into the shed and sniffed me a little. I’ve always liked dogs and I knew enough to let him get a good scent before I tried to pet him.

But a moment later he had leapt onto his back feet, wrapping his front paws around my thigh and he was thrusting his hips wildly. For as short as the bulldog was, he was surprisingly heavy, and very strong. His shoulders were heavily muscled and I must have looked pretty ridiculous yelling for help as I tried in vain to pry the animal off of me. His face was flat and wrinkled and his long red tongue lolled out of his grinning mouth as he panted.

Angela laughed at me and turned off the sprayer, walking over to us. The dog had actually knocked me back against the wall of the shed with his efforts and I leaned against it almost helpless.

“Oh! I should have warned you that he will come sooner or later!” Angela was grinning at my embarrassment as I felt my face flushing.

“I really hope he doesn’t cum!” I said, misunderstanding Angela’s meaning totally and that just sent the girl into another fit of laughter. “Can you, uh ... Get him off me?” I was practically begging.

“Of course, yes we will get him off!” And Angela laughed again, but I didn’t know if she was making those silly puns on purpose or not. I might have laughed then as well, had the dog’s long pink penis not been dripping precum onto my sandals. I could feel it hot and wet and running between my toes.

“Mike! You are a bad doggy to be doing this now!” she scolded the beast and finally grabbed at his collar, pulling the bulldog back until his paws slipped free and he fell to the ground, walking away slowly. He paused and set about cleaning himself, lapping at his cock and balls unconcerned, while I looked at the legs of my jeans and down at my feet.

“I am sorry, Lisa.” Angela was still smiling though and she didn’t look very sorry. “He is Mike and he will do that sometimes to you. He thinks you are a bitch for him.”

“A bitch?” I looked up suddenly.

Angela laughed at me, “Yes, a girl dog for mating.” Angela pushed Mike out of the shed and then pulled the sliding door shut.

“I see,” I was still a little annoyed, but mostly at myself for being embarrassed like that.

“You are a good girl dog, I think, perhaps you will like that,” Angela was walking back to the sprayer and I couldn’t be sure I’d heard her right. “Come here, I will wash your feet.”

I let Angela spray me with the water and it felt good, washing the little bit of Mike’s juices off me, but it also soaked the bottom half of my jeans. “Take your pants off, Lisa, you can hang them over there and they will dry.”

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” I was feeling self-conscious enough already.

“No, please, it is alright, the doors are closed now, there is no one who will see,” Angela started unbuttoning her shorts. “You will help me with my stud?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “But uh, why are you getting undressed?”

Angela kicked off her boots and pulled her shorts off, then surprised me by taking off her panties as well, so she was standing there in just that too small t-shirt. She had a thin veil of blonde hair covering her vulva and I tried not to stare.

“I will always wash him like this. He will like it, you will see,” she smiled and reached for my waist, unbuttoning my jeans for me. “But you must also be unclothed or I will feel very shy to do this!” Her blue eyes were twinkling as she looked up into mine.

“Okay, uh ... I guess I’ll ... Get undressed then.”

I thought this whole thing very strange, but we were both girls, and she was apparently one of those people with absolutely zero inhibitions. I took over from her hands and peeled off my jeans as Angela took off her t-shirt. I removed my panties as well, a little reluctantly, but Angela’s constant giggling made it seem more like summer camp again, just a couple girls fooling around, and I was soon giggling too. I pulled off my own t–shirt and then my bra, so that we were both naked.

Angela’s body was a lot like mine, except smaller and lighter in color. Her breasts were high and pointed with bubblegum nipples, a nice handful each one, and her butt was firm and heart shaped, rotating sexily as she walked over to the sprayer. “Get the brush please, and I will spray and you will soap, yes?”

I nodded and grabbed what looked like a push broom with soft bristles and a hose connected to it. Angela flipped a switch and a soft motor started whirring someplace, pushing soft soapy bubbles out of the head. I started washing the horse, following Angela around and doing as she told me. We had to use a little ladder to get the top of his back and his neck. It was actually a lot of fun and after 10 minutes or so we were soaked and laughing and yelling at each other as we were more or less in a little water fight.

Angela had sprayed me repeatedly, and I chased her clumsily around with the soapy broom, swiping at her butt as she ran away, or scrubbing gently at her tummy and breasts when I’d catch her facing me. I was laughing so hard my sides ached and I finally had enough and sat down on a little wooden bench along the wall. Angela turned off the pumps and sat down with me, putting her head on my shoulder, still giggling and clutching my arm.

“You see why we must be nude for this, Lisa?” she breathed, catching her breath.