"Dog Lover_s Diary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kepple Horst)

Chapter 8 "Kong"

June 27, 1975

Dear Diary, America didn't let us down. After the first episode of 'Polly's Wild Safari' aired last fall, she embraced us with open arms, just like we knew in our hearts she would, just like all the research boys with their computer print-outs predicted. After the third installment, we were the undisputed ratings leader for all networks in all time slots. Philo Phoods dumped all the 'Polly' products on the market and sat back, chuckling, while our audience gobbled them up.

Even the prissy-ass bastards at TV GUIDE couldn't knock that kind of instant success. The tone of their articles shifted after the first Neilsen figures came out, from sneering contempt at "exploitation at the lowest level conceivable" to "phenomenal success, no doubt due to the complete integrity of everyone involved."

Wally and the staff felt that being on top of the heap, TV-wise, was just a start, that I should branch out into other areas of the entertainment business. So, yours truly is on her way to becoming a movie star. That's right!! I signed a ten year, ten picture contract with Sokolow Studios for more money than some countries take in, as gross national products. Right now, we're doing three re-makes of the old 'Sheena of the Jungle' series… only updated and sexed up so they're barely recognisable. The first picture, 'Sheena vs the Mafia', is due to be released in September.

That's all of the mediocre news. I'll hurry through the bad stuff and then go on to what I'm absolutely itching to write about… the really fantastic news.

First, about Harold. Last time I wrote about how he was always talking about doing something to get rid of the bowling alley's bad reputation around town. Well, the bozo's actually gone out and done it… in his own inimitable, ass-hole fashion, of course. Three days ago he held this press conference, at which he told the national media boys what kind of royal screwing he was taking at the hands of the Vice Squad.

Ho hum, right? Sour grapes from a well-known loser-about-town, right?

Yeah, well, that's the way I had it figured, too. When he first told me about the conference-the night before it was to be given-I freaked out, hollered I'd divorce him if he didn't call it off. I shouldn't have put it like that. He started breaking the furniture into kindling with his bare hands, then said he'd do the same to me if I ever mentioned the word again. Hey, like I said, he scared me. And I don't mean the kind of scared like I get under the flipping ass of a Great Dane, or a snow leopard. I wouldn't mind dying in the grip of an oversexed orang-utan … but getting hit by a garbage truck would be preferable to having Harold strangle me. Anyway, I told him I was joking about the divorce and made him describe the hot scoop he was going to give the media.

After he told me the lightweight, whining scam he was going to lay on them, I relaxed. He sounded like your garden variety L.A. kook with an axe to grind. I was sure the reporters would laugh him off. Sure they wouldn't bother doing the routine check on who his wife was… There was no connection between me and Harold outside the files in Sacramento … I'd used my maiden name exclusively ever since I came to Hollywood.

And they did laugh him off… up to a point. Up to the point when the big lummox stopped sniveling and started naming names and dates and large sums of money paid out the Vice Squad for "protection" by his clientele. He even had the bastards' badge numbers! The newsmen swarmed over him, then.

Was I ever mad?! Ooh-wee! I was on the phone to Wally instantly, trying to figure out an angle, a quickie way out of the marriage. There was no time for the legal way of cutting him loose, even though I had great grounds-the contract had never been consummated-because the reporters would be digging for 'background' information within the hour. The trip Wally laid on me was so obvious, so perfectly simple, that it had to work.

My agent and savior made a couple of long distance phone calls, withdrew a large sum of money from the corporation account, and took the next jet to Sacramento and, thirty minutes later, a private plane to Langousta.

The genius got right to the root of the problem. There were only two copies of the certificate-I had the original in a safe deposit box-one was in Sacramento and the other was in the court house in Langousta. He bribed two very willing, very underpaid civil servants-one in each city-and with his own eyes saw the documents burn to ashes. To make absolutely sure, he visited the local paper and 'borrowed' the bound volume of back issues that contained the paper's only copy of the article they did on our wedding ceremony. After razor-blading out the entire 'Social Whirl' page, and burning it, he returned the book to the city editor, who in turn returned it to the dusty shelf.

Ooh, Harold-baby, what you don't know!!! We were never married, Monster Man. You don't have to worry about a divorce any more. Ha, ha, ha.

Discretion being what it is, I've decided to break the news to him gently and from afar. I fly to Tanzania next week for some location work on the second Sheena film, and while I am safe in the bosom of Mother Africa, I've made plans for Wally to sell the house, the cars, the furnishings right out from under Weird Harold. I thought about sending him a xerox copy of this book, but that would be too much… even Africa wouldn't be safe if I did that.

The other bad news is about Mom. She's real gone and done it this time.

She's gone off the deep end. When the hot-shot network producers and the movie barons took to taking their bodyguards along with them wherever they went… for the sole purpose of driving her away… when the police began following her to the supermarket in a prowl car to make sure she didn't bother anybody… well, she just flipped. Somehow she got hold of some dynamite and wire and stuff and… yes, she made a goddamn bomb!! As if that wasn't enough, she then acquired an illegal and very definitely stolen U.S. Army ordinance automatic rifle. In broad daylight, on the corner of Hollywood and Vine, at gunpoint, she commandeered the limousine of Latham Bernooli, and kidnapped the made-for-TV-movie czar.

She forced the driver and bodyguards to get out of the car on the Hollywood Freeway and made Bernooli drive her away. Then she directed him to a hideaway she'd rented in Malibu Canyon. After tying him up and threatening him with the bomb and machine gun, trying to get him to offer me a twenty year contract… and succeeding, she called a local radio talk show and made her demands… Either I was to be made queen of the U.S.A. or she would blow up Latham Bernooli…

Luckily for everybody concerned, one of Wally's staff was listening to the show while driving to work and she alerted him to the probability that the mad bomber was my Mom. According to the radio reports, she wore a Frankenstein mask during the actual abduction so the driver and bodyguard were unable to give police a clue to her identity. There were some pretty tense minutes, trying to get to Mom before the police, but Wally came through again. The bomb was wired improperly so it would detonate when Mom pushed the plunger as our 'Safari' troops charged through the door. Mom calmed down after the doctor sedated her. And Bernooli was unhurt, if a bit ruffled. To smooth things out, I had to agree to appear in one of his incredibly dull pictures… with the stipulation, of course, that final script approval be left up to me.

The bomb lady was never found. Bernooli was unable to help police, insisting that he had been blindfolded the whole time, despite eye witnesses who swore they saw him drive the limousine away. The cops chalked it up to either a movie-land publicity stunt that went haywire, or the Mafia boys throwing a scare into one of their turkeys. Either way, it was none of their business.

Mom was very lucid after the episode. I mean if you didn't know what she'd done, you'd never suspect her of anything of the sort, not in a million years. Regardless, the whole damn thing came too close to wrecking my career and the careers of hundreds of tag-along idiots who depend on me. I am a big business now, a goddamn corporation in my own right, and no one, not even my own Mom can he allowed to hurt me.

I've made plans, through Wally and a doctor Major Scampi suggested, for Mom to be put out to pasture. I should've done it long ago, I guess, but I didn't have the stomach for it. Not that it's some shambles of an old folks home… no way. I've seen pictures of it and read the brochures.

It's ultra modern, tucked away in a secluded mountain valley in the Sierra, and it has the tightest security system available outside a federal prison. I was assured… in writing… that my Mom would never again set foot on Hollywood Boulevard, not in this life.

Wow, it seems like everything's coming together at once, doesn't it?

Real neat. The same day old Harold gets the bad news, the same day the house is to he sold and its contents auctioned, I have arranged for Mom to he whisked away. No big deal, no hubbub… the sanatorium orderlies, dressed in business suits will drive up to the house in an unmarked, late model sedan and inform her that I've been slightly hurt in an accident at the Studio and that I am asking for her.

Once they get her in the car, they will gas her senseless and she'll wake in padded cell. Like I said.

The only thing is, the nitwit has been doing a lot of heavy rummaging around down at the studio… just like the old days, looking for God knows what. I guess I'll have to keep this thing under lock and key until she's safely tucked away.

So! On to the good news I'm in love! No! I really mean it this time. All the other male animals in my life, the wild and wonderful affairs I've had with creatures in every possible ecological niche, pale beside the nova heat of my first true love. I'm serious. Never have I had the kind of rapport with another animal… and I don't just mean we come at the some instant, though we do… I mean, he can read my thoughts and I can read his. Whenever he lumbers into the room, my legs go to rubber, my cunt starts juicing and puckering, my tits ache at the nipples and my palms begin to itch. And I know I affect him in the same way. It's easier to tell with him because he doesn't wear pants. His gross pink cock shoots out of his furry black pouch and aches upward in a lewd salute.

His name is Kong and he's a hundred and ninety pound, coal black, Central African, mountain gorilla. We met during the shooting of 'Sheena vs the Mafia'. He was my animal co-star and what with all the times we were thrown together on the set, and in my dressing-room when it was too rainy to film, things sort of happened between us.

I think he knew I had the hots for him from the first moment he set his big brown eyes on me. I have to hand it to him, he played it pretty cool for those first few days… not letting on that I turned him on, too.

But when 'it' happened, there was absolutely no stopping us. We'd finished shooting for the day and I was back in my Winnebago dressing room, trying to shower the accumulated grit off my tits. I heard the door open and shouted over the roar of the hot spray: "Who's there?"

When no one answered, I figured that whoever it was had heard the shower and decided to come back later when I was finished. I went back to lathering my glistening body unaware that I was being observed.

Kong, the wily devil, had slipped away from the animal compound after bending the steel bars of his cage, and crept over to my Winnebago. He peeked through the crack in the bathroom door, watching with growing excitement while I made frothy suds slop all over my cunt.

I should say that it was not unheard of for the widow of a local tribesman to take in a baby male gorilla for companionship, especially if the couple had been childless. According to the native bearers, often as not. when little gorilla ceases to be a baby, he is taken into the cold marriage bed as a husband, and is trained in the arts of love, African Style. It is said, by the bearers, that such a gorilla, though he be returned to the wild to take a mate of his own species, will always prefer to mate with a human if given half the chance.

Well, standing there in the nude in my shower, I was giving the big brute more than half a chance. He took it, too.

I didn't see the door opening behind me, but the cool breeze on my back sent a shiver up my spine. At first I thought it was one of the gofer boys, stage-struck and deep in pubescent 'crush' going for broke. It wouldn't be the first time.

But when there was no nervous giggle betraying his presence, I got the distinct impression that the intruder was not only no boy, but no human as well. There was something ominous about the shape of the thing as I tried to make it out using the corners of my eyes. Ominous.

"Whoever you are, go away!" I said, my voice a shrill squeak.

Something moved behind me and I whirled around… coming face to face with almost two hundred pounds of gorilla. The scream I let out in that instant would've done Fay Wray proud.

Not that a gorilla's face doesn't have its nice points, once you get used to it, but I wasn't used to it, yet. I screamed right into his face, making him wince at the sharp sound.

His head with its giant sloping brow sat on the powerful shoulders with the barest hint of a neck beneath. It looked like an ebony, over-sized football balanced on a kick-off tee. His huge brown eyes, set too close together to appear really humanoid, were slightly bloodshot, but still bright and alert. His nose was the most startling thing about his face.

It was shiny and black and sort of melted looking with great soft holes for nostrils that covered most of the lower half of his head. The fur was sparse around his eyes and nose, but the rest of his head was all shaggy like a fat man with a beard and long hair. His chin wasn't much to brag about, mostly hidden as it was by the bristly overhang of his immense upper lip. His ridiculously tiny and shell-like black ears were hidden very high up on the sides of the sloping dome, at a level well above his beetling brows.

He raised his massive, fur-coat arms and put a black skinned finger on my right nipple. A delicious shudder raced from my blushing nubbin straight to my clit.

"No!" I said, pointing to the open door. "Get out of here!"

The gorilla smirked at me, making his upper lip puff in and out.

"What do you want with me?!" I cried, trying to cover myself.

I squirmed aside as the big beast reached out for me. He put his right hand up and cupped some of the hot water from the shower nozzle. It seemed to fascinate him. He was so enraptured by the hot, steamy, tingling spritzing that he didn't even seem to notice that his arm was getting soaked.

I figured the time was right to make a break for it. I was wrong. Even as I tried to slip around his brooding bulk, his other arm swung up and smacked palm down against the shower stall, trapping me between the solid wall and solid gorilla.

The water rushed down on us, spraying all over the floor as Kong moved into the shower with me. He put his other hand to the wall and I was bracketed by shaggy arms. I stopped trying to cover myself and put my hands to his bald, black lit muscles. and pushed. I never felt so helpless in me entire life. It was like trying to hold back an avalanche.

"Oh, God!" I cried, gargling the hot water, as the smooth skin of his ape chest slid over my bare tits. Then the silky, hairy lower body touched me, pushing me, pinning me to the slippery wall gently.

His huge primate face loomed in front of me, was it smiling? I made one last futile attempt to wriggle free and ended up getting my arms pinned to my thighs. Gorilla mouth moved close to mine, water droplets clinging to the coarse whiskers.

Then he kissed me! I swear to God. Like he'd been doing it all his life.

His thin lips puckered up and he mashed them down hard on mine.

What thoughts were going through my head when the ape lips parted and an immense, red gorilla tongue surged into my mouth? First, despite my orientation, sexually, fear and loathing… gorillas never, never brush their teeth… then, as the choking mouthful began to slide in and out, as the pebbly upper surface rasped the roof of my mouth, as the hot flow of his animal juice rushed down my throat, I began to warm up to him.

It was hard work sucking on his tongue. Not that he wasn't the perfect gentleman about it, but there was just so damn much of it! It slipped all the way down the back of my throat to the little valve thingee that lets me swallow, slipped all that way filling my throat to the splitting point with red hot meat. His jaws were gaping open, turned sideways about three inches from my open, aching mouth… he wasn't even giving me all of it! He waggled his tongue, long distance, the pointed tip tickling the little swallower valve, making me wish for the first time in my life that I'd been born something other than human.

He drew his tongue back a bit and put his hot mouth on my face. His lips encompassed my chin, cheek and nose as he gave me a loud, smacking kiss.

And his big hands weren't idle either. I shivered time and again as they traced crazy patterns down the soapy sides of my ribcage. He seemed to delight in the way I shuddered against him, responding to his every touch.

Then his hand picked up the soap. He paused in his deep tongue fucking of my throat to examine the sweet smelling bar. After deciding that it was not good to eat, he began to mimic the action he'd seen me make earlier. He rubbed the bar of soap against his barrel chest. When the white froth appeared, he sort of chirped with joy and really went to town with the soap. In a matter of seconds, he had his entire front side, from neck to toes, glistening in bubbly suds. He looked so funny I couldn't help but laugh. Imagine a man in a floor length black bear coat who's just fallen into an open vat of tapioca pudding.

Then he pressed his sudsy self up against me again, and suddenly there was nothing to laugh about. It felt so absolutely breathtaking I could barely stand it. Super soft fur, slick with suds, rubbing over the entire front of my body, my tits mashed into his chest, his belly ground into mine, his groin rotated slowly around mine, soapy fur on the soft parts!!! I was ready for more of whatever he had in mind instantly.

What with his crotch rubbing up against my mound, it didn't take too great of an imagination to figure out just what it was that he was after. Something very stiff and very long nudged my right hand. Also it was sizzling hot.

When I took the head of his slippery dick in my palm, Kong made these whistling, cooing noises, nuzzling his mouth into my nose, eyes, ears.

He was such a tender, loving creature underneath the layers of muscle … Lord, it made my heart ache with joy.

I took his up-curving pud between my hands and rolled my palms together, rolling the gross cock head back and forth vigorously… a trick I'd picked up from old Nordbert. The slick head and shaft twisted about deliciously in my grip. And he adored it, too, I could tell from the way he began to lick my nose and eyes and flip his hips, ever so gently.

His huge hands squirmed around behind me and worked their way between my buns and the wall until he clasped a firm cheek in either hand. Oooh, it felt so wonderful to be held by him. Even as I held his primate pride in my small hands! His fingertips searched for and found the juicy entrance to my cunt.

Talk about talented! That Kong knew exactly what and when to diddle. He traced light delicate circles around and around my ass-hole with one fingertip while teasing the entrance to my cunt with the other. He'd slip just the tip of his wide, spatulate finger in my hole and corkscrew it back and forth, pausing to first sniff, then lick the funk from his black pad.

He had my cunt fountaining and my ass-hole doing pucker ups… and he knew I wanted more, so much more. I'd given up the cock rolling in favour of some one-handed tip to root stroking while I fondled his immense, fur covered ball pouch with the other hand. He took it all in stride, leaning back like a stone Watts player to check out my small white fist pumping up and down his hard meat.

He winced again, and kind of hunched down, and like a burst fire hydrant, his cock started gushing quarts of boiling spurt. It shot straight up in the air, spiralling in great gooey comets of white high over our heads. I held my mouth open and closed my eyes. The hot, sticky rain of gorilla sperm fell on me, coating my hair, my eyes, my cheeks, my nose, filling my mouth and re-filling it as I swallowed again and again. I looked up at the flat features of the ape stud whose cock I held. He was blinking at my tongue gyrations and come slurping lip work in awe. The geysers still exploded from his dick slot, only with less pressure behind them. I dropped to my knees and took the oozing choad in my mouth, sucking the last few cup-fulls of ism straight from the faucet. It was delicious stuff… by far the best, human or animal that I'd ever had the privilege of sampling… tasted like banana-creme pie only tangier, with a touch of the old compost heap. I slurped and slobbered all over his huge, dome of a pud-cap, pumping up and down the shaft with my fist, kneading his ball pouch with my other hand.

The big brute loved the attention I was giving his cock, leaning down to peer at my lips as they drove down over the skinned head.

I'll say one thing for gorillas… once they get the old bone up, it takes some real doing to get it down again. Even right after the heavy session it showed no sign of the slightest softening. I blew him until my lips felt like a pair of buttermilk pancakes, letting him use my head like a cunt, guiding it with his hands so his cock head could slide way back in my throat. He seemed to sense that I was tiring of the game and lifted me up from the shower floor… right into his arms. I dangled there, deliriously happy, nuzzling into the soft fur of his thick neck, while he twiddled and probed between my legs, searching for and finding my juicy hole.

I threw my legs apart and let him do as he pleased, watching with rising excitement as the shaggy wrist twisted and turned, as the black finger came back from my slot shiny with my foxy cunt nectar. Oooooh, he was such a darling! He had me humping and shaking my ass, making my cunt dive down around his finger… even while he still held me high in the air.

When a gorilla decides a girl has had enough foreplay and is ready for the old pink banana, he lets her know alright! Kong kind of started grunting in his deep, basso profundo voice of his and then he took his finger from my cunt. No matter how lasciviously I writhed in his arms, no matter how much funky juice I scooped up and rubbed into his cavernous nostrils, he would not change his mind.

He turned me around, facing into the stinging spray of the shower, handling me like I was some kind of a doll instead of a hundred and ten pound human being. He made me straddle his shaggy thighs, backwards, with my knees on the outside of his, with my cunt rubbing up against the slippery shaft of his dick. I was afraid for a second that he was going to let me fall… but I was wrong. Whoever the lucky black bitch was that trained my gorilla lover, she did a righteous job on his fucking manners.

He held me by the waist with both hands, the long fingers locking around my middle like a living belt. Then he tilted his hips back, getting his cock head squarely in my pocket.

Ooooooh! The feel of red hot ape dick nudging into the entrance of your cunt is a thrill no real honest-to-God woman should do without.

The powerful fingers tightened about my waist, lifting me up and onto the stiff bulb. I started to scream again as the gorilla let my own weight drive his cock into my tube. The immense head of it pushed back my folds as they had never been pushed, stretched my tube like nothing before. I felt my cunt muscles strain to stop the progress of the tube-splitting pud-cap, strain to lock about the head in a strangle hold.

"Uuuuuhhhhh! Uuuhhhh!" I wailed, struggling against the steely fingers that held me, that began to tug ever so gently, to draw my tearing cunt-mouth down over the gruesome shaft.

"Oh! God!! God!!!" I bawled as my cunt sphincter began to flutter, as the pressure of my own weight and the gradually increasing pull of ape hands, broke the power of my pussy grip. Slowly but surely, his entire cock was sliding into me, mining me for any other creature. It was like being a virgin all over again.

The tight tube about his cock must've given old Kong near terminal thrills from the way he started gasping for air, grunting, and licking up, and down my spine.

Finally, after the incredibly painful ride down his dick shaft, my pussy lips touched the base of his wide cock, nestled in the dense fur of his ball pouch. At the first feel of ape hairs against clit, cunt-lips, ass-hole, I started to come like never before.

The tickling spray of water across my stiff nipples couldn't put out the skyrockets that were ripping my mind apart. My cunt clamped down on the base of his cock and began quivering and flexing, spasming and quaking like there would be no tomorrow.

Kong's mighty hands lifted me, breaking even the convulsive, sucking grip of my cunt mouth in its come throes. Using me like a toy, he lifted and lowered my trembling tube up and down his cock. The friction was insane! Hot ape meat slithered over my tumescent folds, dragging out my coming to the point of pain, to the point where I began to grope frantically between my own sloppy buns for his upright balls…

Something had to happen. He HAD to come or I would die there, impaled on his long cock.

I mauled his nut-sack, delighting in the way it made him stiffen and use me faster, harder, my cunt bashing into his sopping wet bag.

"Gggggrrrrooooorrr!!!" he bellowed, jerking me up and down like an old fashioned butter churn. My pussy flew up and down his pole as quarts of his sperm washed the walls of my torn tube, soothing it in sticky heat, creamy radiance.

I began jerking my hips, making him take even faster, cunt pumping and sucking, teasing the come from his orgasming dick. He came and came until the gummy stuff not only hung in long yo-yo-ing gobs from my twat and inner thighs, but pooled in great, sticky puddles under his feet.

We stayed in the shower until we were both totally fucked out, until I looked like a prune and he looked like he'd been drowned for about a week. Then we hopped out and dried off.

As it turned out, we had a lot in common aside from the fantastic sex thing. During the whole time we were on location in Tanzania, we were inseparable. Every night my gorilla would quietly bend his bars apart and sneak into the Winnebago; just before dawn he'd reluctantly go back, get in his cage and re-bend the bars. We had some wonderful times out there in the bush, too.

Even with our incredible 'rapport' I had trouble convincing Scampi and the bozos at Sokolow Studios that Kong was the fella to be my leading man in all three of the Sheena flicks. I had even more trouble getting them to agree to my taking the gorilla home with me like one of the family. In the end I put my foot down, and insurance or not, Kong came along.

I am going to miss my big black baby. He's going to be flying out to the African filming site a day or two early to get used to the climate. The company veterinarian advised me to do it, said it would be easier on him in the long run. Stupid doctors! I'll be without the light of my life for two whole days… Ooooh! Kong, you bad, bad boy you'd better stop that!!

On second thought, I'll stop writing this, and let you, my darling primate, go right ahead.

So ends the last entry in the diary of Polly Oliver. She was found dead two days later by a janitor at Sokolow Studios. The following is a newspaper account of her tragic demise.

From the Langousta Times-Crier, page one headline story.

SAFARI STAR SLAIN!!

Dateline Hollywood. Tragedy has struck in Tinseltown! The Grim Reaper had taken one of Hollywood's brightest stars, Langousta's own, Polly Oliver.

The Emmy-winning actress' mangled body was found in her dressing room at Sokolow Studios by a janitor.

Police are now surmising that she was attacked by Kong, a 19O pound, Mountain Gorilla, her co-star in the as yet unreleased film, 'Sheena vs the Mafia,' who shared an adjoining dressing-room.'

The killer ape is now the target of the most massive man-hunt ever staged by Los Angeles Police.

"We'll get the bastard!" declared Chief of Police Buttram Wankie. "Make a goddamn rug out of him!!"

Miss Oliver's husband and mother, both residents of the San Fernando Valley, were too grief-stricken to answer reporters' questions.

As many Langoustans will remember, Polly Oliver's career in show business started right here in the Brewster Elementary School Follies of 1965…