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Message-ID: <28756asstr$981378608@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Maria1971@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} The Famous Donkey Girl of Tijuana - Maria Gonzales
Date: Mon,  5 Feb 2001 08:10:08 -0500
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<1st attachment, "THE_FA~1.TXT" begin>

If you aren't 18, or 21 if you live in a backwards
place, then go away :)

Also, for this particular story, if you are an ass, you
might get a kick out of this. Wink wink, get it, ass...
kick... kick... ass... donkey... Nevermind.

This story is copyrighted by the writer formerly known
as Maria Gonzales, AKA M-Go. Copyright 2001. Send me an
E-mail at Maria1971@aol.com and/or visit my web site
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MariaGonzales/www

Yes, this story involves a woman and a donkey. It is not
meant to be erotic, although some have told me it is. It
is supposed to be funny and make you go, "What the fuck
did Maria do now." On my web site you will find the story
along with my notes.

The Famous Donkey Girl of Tijuana

by Maria Gonzales

Copyright 2000 - All Rights Reserved. Any use of this 
work without the author's written permission is 
strictly forbidden.

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.

***Fin***


Maria's Notes on Donkey

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.
Loved the story. Thanks! I'm glad I was able to write 
the story well enough that you "got" it.
The story was cute; it made me laugh. Thanks, that's 
the effect I was going for.
The story was OK; nothing special. Well, what did you 
expect? Hemingway?
The story sucked big time. It's your absolute worst 
story. I'm sorry. I'll try to write better stories in 
the future.
Your story sucked, and worst of all, it had donkey sex 
in it! <giggle> I'm sorry. I didn't intend for the 
story to be erotic.
Wow, you should write more bestiality stories. Ummm... 
no. <giggle>
Can you send me a nude picture of yourself? Ummm... no. 
Well, if you send me a picture of yourself, nude and in 
public, then I'll think about it.


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