The Famous Donkey Girl of Tijuana

The ragged red velvet curtain opened, and I stepped onto the stage, nearly blinded by the bright white glow of the spot light. In the darkened room, I could'nt make out any faces in the crowd gathered to watch the act I was about to perform. The music started, a traditional mariachi record played on an old turntable. The same record had been used for so long that at times it was hard to hear the music over the clicks and static. I moved to the soft beat. I had never stripped to mariachi music before, only loud pop music with a driving beat, and it was difficult to find the rhythm. Gyrating my hips I formed what I hoped were sensuous movements.

I stripped off my traditional Mexican blouse, feeling the eyes of the crowd on my breasts as they threatened to bounce out of my bra while I danced. My long, brightly colored skirt came off next, followed by my bra and panties. Shaking my hips I danced naked around the stage trying to give the audience a good show. The music stopped and I nervously eyed my co-star being led onto the stage.

He didn't seem very enthusiastic, stubbornly refusing to join me on stage. A man tried to push him from behind, but my partner obstinately refused to move forward. I shared his reluctance to perform; I wasn't his regular partner. If he didn't want to perform with me, I would have been more than happy to walk off the stage and cancel the show. I didn't want to be doing this anyway.

My partner's name was Reynaldo. His regular partner Dolores had died in some kind of freak accident involving an exploding beer bottle and a condom. It felt strange taking her place at the same moment her funeral was being held, but as el jefe said, the show must go on. As the new girl and somebody who didn't treat Dolores and Reynaldo as freaks, I was chosen by el jefe to take Dolores' place. I had a choice, to perform her act until a replacement could be found, be fired and go home to work in corn fields for five dollars a day, or work in a sleazy cantina , selling my body for twenty dollars a day. I was earning much more money dancing than I could anyplace else, so I agreed, as much as it repulsed me.

Reynaldo still couldn't be persuaded to join me on stage, and el jefe motioned for me to do something -- anything -- to keep the crowd happy. I sat on the floor and spread my legs, letting the crowd see my bare pussy. El jefe frantically motioned me to do more, so I brushed my fingers along my labia, arched my back and pushed one finger into my slit. I heard the crowd murmur ominously; somebody from the back whistled angrily and yelled, "This isn't what we're here for!"

I glanced back at my partner, five men were now pushing and pulling him onto the stage. Reluctantly, he stood in the middle of the stage and I danced coquettishly toward him. I stood in front of him, placed my hands on the floor and pushed my pussy inches from his face. I could feel his hot breath on me. I stood and waited for somebody to push the wooden bench into place.

I leaned over the bench, resting my abdomen on it as I waited for my partner to push his cock into me. The bench wasn't very big, so I needed to support my upper body with my hands on the floor. This would allow the crowd to watch my breasts sway when Reynaldo mounted me.

Reynaldo knew what he was supposed to do, but he stubbornly refused to perform. Reynaldo was supposed to mount and slide his huge cock into me, but he obstinately remained firmly planted on the floor. The men tried to move him on top of me, but he pushed himself back down again and stared angrily at them. I closed my eyes and whispered a prayer, thankful that the act was failing.

El jefe waved frantically at me, wanting me to do something to calm the restless crowd. I stood and danced around my partner, brushing my hands on his furry coat and pressing my pussy inches from his face. As I did, his warm tongue suddenly lashed out and pressed against my labia. I gasped, more in surprise than pleasure, and returned to the bench and bent over.

Reynaldo was somewhat interested in me, but as I glanced back at him, he stubbornly turned his head away and stared into the crowd, his hot breath filled with saliva. I wiggled my butt provocatively but he didn't even give me a second glance, rejecting me completely by turning and staring into the crowd.

I didn't see it, but I heard a beer bottle crash onto the stage, shattering someplace behind me. " Ay caramba! " I yelled as I ran to the relative safety behind the curtains. El jefe angrily yelled at me, blaming me for the angry crowd. As his voice boomed across the room, I heard a shower of beer bottles and shot glasses crash onto the stage. When el jefe realized that his star was alone on stage and getting pelted by beer bottles, he forgot about me and tried to gather his troops to make a mad dash to save poor Reynaldo.

Like everybody else, I wasn't about to go back on stage, and I watched helplessly as poor Reynaldo stared vacantly into the audience, oblivious to the beer bottles bouncing of his back and crashing next to him. El jefe pulled the needle off of the record and grabbed the microphone. "Tonight's show has been canceled. We are sorry for any inconveniences. Have a good night."

Another shower of glass crashed onto the stage and Reynaldo as the angry crowd demanded their money back. I knew there was a better chance of Dolores returning from the grave than el jefe refunding any money. Nobody wanted to go on stage and save Reynaldo. He refused to move, valiantly daring the crowd to pelt him with more bottles, taunting them with his mere presence.

"Please calm down or I will call the police." El jefe's words only increased their fury, and I watched in horror as a bar stool crashed onto the stage, landing a few feet away from Reynaldo.

The bar stool seemed to bring Reynaldo to life. He kicked his hind feet in the air and let out a loud cry, "hee-haw!" Reynaldo ran into the audience, his feet kicking at anybody near him and his teeth biting at whatever flesh was within range. The once brave but now terrified crowd moved away from him and out the door. A few men didn't move fast enough and felt Reynaldo's hooves on their bodies or his teeth in their skin.

The cantina was now nearly empty. Reynaldo searched out the final members of the audience and chased them out the front door. Satisfied that the bar was now empty, Reynaldo sauntered back onto the stage and looked at me with sad eyes. I hesitantly stepped toward him, and his ears seemed to perk up a little. I wasn't sure if it was safe to approach, but I felt sorry for the poor donkey and took another step toward him. As I reached him, I saw blood above his eye. I reached my hand out; when he didn't react, I softly petted him on the head. He pushed closer to my naked flesh and put his head between my arm and the soft skin of my breast, a sad sound coming from his throat.

" Hijo de tu pinche madre! Burro estupido! " el jefe yelled. " Idiota mujer, " he yelled at me menacingly as he stepped toward us. I covered my head with my hands, fearing the infamous wrath of el jefe , but as he raised his hands to strike, Reynaldo kicked him in the stomach, sending el jefe flying off the stage.

"I think he likes you, Lupe," one of the bartenders said with a loud laugh. "Do you think he understands about Dolores?"

At the mention of Dolores' name, Reynaldo's ears perked up and he looked expectantly around the room. When he didn't find her, he rubbed his head against my bare breast and looked hopefully into my eyes.

"I think we have a new donkey girl," el jefe said as he looked at us from a safe distance and rubbed his stomach. "The second show better work, or else you'll be turning tricks back home in Michoacan and Reynaldo will be served to our customers inside tortillas and covered in salsa for dinner next week." El jefe marched into his office saying that his ribs were broken, two sympathetic top-heavy dancers at his side.

I turned to Reynaldo and told him, "See what kind of mess you have gotten me into?" Reynaldo turned, put his hooves onto the bench and turned to me with an expectant look in his eyes.

"Now?" I asked.

I couldn't believe it, but Reynaldo's head actually bobbed up and down, answering my question with a nod. I looked under his body and looked at his massive cock. I petted Reynaldo on the head and whispered into his ear, "Not now, we need to do a show later. Then you will get what you want."

Reynaldo hopped off the table and muzzled against me, his head brushing against my breast. I grabbed his leash and led him backstage, hoping that he wouldn't stubbornly refuse to move. As I pulled on him, he followed me backstage and obediently entered his stall. I petted him, and he pressed his head against my naked breast.

I covered him with a blanket and told him, "Thanks to you, it looks like I'm the new donkey girl." I could have sworn that he smiled. Given the choice of going back home and working in the fields or in the cantina, being the new donkey girl wouldn't be so bad. I would earn more money and I wouldn't have to work in the hot sun or sell my body to the smelly, drunk, macho men in the cantinas .

The second show of the night was a complete success. Reynaldo did everything he was supposed to do and I did everything I was supposed to do. Over time, I added to Dolores' act. One night, when Reynaldo seemed depressed about something, on impulse I took him into my mouth. The crowd loved it and Reynaldo seemed to like it too. The boss was so happy with us that he increased the admission price and gave me a raise. He even added two more carrots to Reynaldo's diet.

That is how I became the famous Donkey Girl of Tijuana. It isn't a bad job. My days are free, the money is great and I only have to do one show a night, two on Saturdays. Reynaldo is like a big playful puppy and enjoys my company. The other night I had my first real on stage orgasm. It was unexpected and a nice surprise; the crowd loved watching me moan in ecstasy and the amount of money in the hat passed through the crowd tripled.

The only bad thing about being the famous donkey girl of Tijuana is that men don't take me seriously. They don't understand that it is only an act, that I'm not acting out some sort of perverted fantasy on stage. The more I think about it, the more convinced I'm that men have a complex about going to bed with me. Not because I let a donkey fuck me, although that may be a part of it, but they probably think they could never satisfy me - that I'm used to the huge size of Reynaldo. Hopefully, someday I will find a man to make me happy, one who understands me and realizes that size isn't everything.

Of course, I hope he is as big as Reynaldo.

Here are some examples of the typical E-mails I've received for my story, "The Famous Donkey Girl of Tijuana."

"Maria,
This is by far your worst story. It was a waste of your time to write it, let a lone a waste of my time to read it. Bestiality is something that is not erotic and really squicks me big time. I don't know why you wrote this, but it's not up to the top quality erotica that I've come to expect from you."

I'll try to do better next time. Another example:

"Maria,
I loved your story, 'Donkey Girl of Tijuana.' It's probably your best story. Sure, it's not sexy and it didn't get me hard, but it made me laugh."

Thanks! I don't know if it's my best story, but that's my opinion. A third example:

"Maria,
Cute story. It made me laugh."

Those are representative examples of the E-mail I've gotten for the story. Of the three, the closest to the response I was trying to evoke is the last. I was trying to write a "cute" story that made the reader giggle, or at least smile. The second example is more than I expected but much appreciated.

I'm guessing, I think I'm right but you never know, the people that sent E-mails saying how bad the story was were the people looking for a piece of erotica, a sexy story. The story was not meant to be sexy, adult fiction - yes, erotica - no.

The idea came to my mind when I heard an urban legend (at least I hope it's an urban legend) of a sex show in Tijuana featuring a donkey and a woman. After I picked myself off the floor and quit laughing, the whole idea is so ridiculous that even as I think about it now, I giggle, I thought about what would make a woman actually do a donkey <giggle> and the entire story popped into mind. I was trying to be cute, but I guess I forgot that I'm only supposed to write sex stories.

So the point is, if you hated the story, I'm sorry. If you "got" the story and giggled (or at least smiled) a little, thanks. If the story squicked you, I'm sorry, but the actual donkey sex <giggle> takes place "off screen" and is used only as a set up for the last line of the story which is supposed to make you laugh. I tried to make the story as "squick-free" as I could.

If you liked the story and found it sexy, then...

<giggle> I'm sorry...

<laughing> I'm sorry, I just...

<loud obnoxious laughter> Donkey sex?

<Calming down> I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. It's just that the idea of a woman and a donkey... <loud snort>

Oops, I didn't mean to laugh. I have to get going now. I'll talk to you soon.

Oh, I almost forgot, somebody asked me if I have ever seen a donkey... well, they asked me if I had ever seen a donkey... penis.

Well... yes I did (oh be quiet, it was sort of just hanging there). When I was little (remember I lived in rural Mexico) my father owned a donkey. As the oldest child in our family, I was in charge of it, and I used to have to ride it whenever I took food and water out to my father and brothers in the field (yes, they picked corn for two dollars a day). I hated that stupid donkey. It would never go in the direction I wanted it to, that is when it decided to move with me on top of it. Most of the time it stubbornly stood in place, until I got off of it and dragged it out to the field with me. Whenever it did move, it moved as slowly as it could, occasionally kicking, trying to knock me off.

As I look back, it must have been hilarious watching me with the donkey. A twelve year old girl dragging a donkey with a water jug on the donkey's back and a basket full of food in the girl's arms. Why did I drag the donkey instead of just walking? Because my father told me that he bought the donkey so I wouldn't have to walk to the fields, and that if I didn't bring the donkey with me, I would be in big trouble. So I had to drag the dumb donkey out to the fields then drag it back to the house. Of course, since the donkey hated me as much as I hated him, whenever we got to the corn fields, the donkey would trot to where my father was and stop obediently in front of him. When it was time to go back to the house, the stupid donkey would walk until we were out of my father's sight, where I would have to pull him back to the house.

I've drifted away from the point of this little note, but I really hated that stupid little donkey. One of the best days of my life was the day my father sold that stupid donkey and bought a bicycle... Sorry, back to the point.

I've devised this little chart for the people that have read my story; their reactions (based on the E-mails I've gotten since I put the story on the website) and my replies.