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           Someone once asked me if these

stories were in chronological order, by the date they occurred. Heavens no!

That would be boring and tedious. I jump around from story to story in an

effort to keep it interesting. I mean really, how interesting can it be after

the fiftieth time that I laid a snow leopard? 

So I move from species to species, trying to fill you in on all the

possibilities that are out there in the world...if you're brave enough and

willing to expose yourself to a little risk.

The next few tales are from a trip

I took down under. My first zoo didn't keep marsupials, unless you count the native

opossum that was in the wildlife area. No, I'm talking about the ones that

everyone knows, like kangaroos, wallabies and koalas.

The trip started quite a few years

after my first job, when I was no longer working at that particular zoo

anymore.

No, I didn't get discovered and get

fired.

The fact is I got sort of tired of

it. I wanted to move on to other things and that's what I did. We'll discuss

that some other time. For now, just understand that I was going to Australia to

learn about their native wildlife, some of which at that time was slowly being

threatened by human encroachment. In a few cases it has made a comeback, but

only thanks to the concerted effort of folks like myself who invested a lot of

time into teaching people not to randomly shoot animals just because they

thought they might be damaging to their property. Even the Aborigines knew

better that to wantonly destroy animals to no end use.

I soon made friends with a fellow

by the name of Nigel. He was a bit of a vet too, but he was more of an

outdoorsman and a zoologist. He was outgoing, but at the same time rather

secretive. It was like he had two sides to him; an open, smiling sort of chap,

and then when we were alone, a sort of a hush-hush kind of person. It was like

he was trying very hard to contain something he didn't want people to know.

He was a lot like me and I was

quick to notice it. I had to wonder what he had up his sleeve. My animal

interests where something you didn't discuss with anyone. It hardly mattered

that we as a species killed animals all the time, for food and for sport. No,

that was fine. Shoot a deer during hunting season and no one would bat an eye,

but fuck one and you'd be all over the news. So if there was the slightest

chance of him being like my Arab friend I mention a while back, I needed to

find out. If nothing else we'd have something to talk about, and maybe, just

maybe I'd get lucky enough to experience a few exotics up close and personal.

Nigel was in charge of a huge area

of preserve, and while it might hardly matter to you if I mentioned which one

it was, he's still alive and someone might give him a hassle. No point in

taking a chance on that.

He was typically Aussie, from his

tanned skin to his easy going manner. His vehicle was a much abused Rover which

looked like it had been rebuilt from the tires up several times over. It had a

gun in the back, as he said, in case of emergencies, and a five liter petrol

can that was always full. The seats had seen better days a decade earlier and

were now mostly just a metal platform. The air conditioning was limited to the

rusted holes in the body.

He was more than ready to answer my

questions, and I kept them simple and direct. The fact was I was very

interested in his country drew his attention, for the continent had some very

unique species living on it and nowhere else in the world and he was proud of

it.  Then again, sometimes these unique

animals would make an appearance out of nowhere.

It was a shock to see a "mob" of

kangaroos bounding across the road as we rattled our way to the station house.

It was hot and dry, and I was glad I had purchased appropriate clothing for the

stay. He teased me about them being so new looking, but I responded that even

his truck had started off life looking a bit more presentable that it was now.

"So mate. You're planning on

breaking them in?"

"I hope so. And that's not the only

thing I plan on breaking in."

He looked at me with a look of

curiosity and alarm. "Wat do you mean by that? You Seppos have some funny ways

about you."

"I've worked closely with animals

for years now. It's nice to get out in the wilds with them. I'm just hoping to

get up close and personal with a few species I haven't had the chance to be

intimate with yet."

He appraised me from his seat

behind the steering wheel. "I'm sorry mate. I don't know if I'm making any

sense of your words."

"There isn't much to make sense of.

I'm just really into animals."

We drove on for a bit. "Look," he

said, "I'm not much when it comes to being even close to understanding people.

I no figjam. Ilike living in the bush. So wat are you getting at?"

I figured it was now or never. "I'm

not much of a people person either. I like animals. Some might say I like them

a little too much."

He slammed on the brakes, halting

the vehicle on the rough dirt road and sending up a spray of dust. I had to

choke back the particles until the breeze blew it away. He was staring at me

like I was some kind of freak.

"Ere now! Are you saying you'd

rather have an animal for company than another bloke?"

"Most days, yes."

He nodded, thinking to himself for

a moment. "Might you go so far as to say you would prefer an animal over a sheila?"

"I might."

His smiled grew huge. "Well then

mate, the next few weeks might not be as bad as I had feared."

That was the end of the matter

until we got to the station. The building was a rough construct, looking like

it had been here for a century or more. It was only about thirty years old, but

it had weathered to nearly match its surroundings.  There was a lot of junk lying around it, which

later on I found to be useful, if battered, tools and equipment.

Sleeping arrangements inside were

Spartan. Having spent so many years living the life of a monk, a simple army

cot with a pillow and a blanket seemed fine to me. I threw my bags down in the corner

and went outside with him. He pointed me to a rusty old chair and then took

another.

"So mate. Let me see if I

understood you rightly. Are you telling me that you prefer animals over your fellow

species in all things?"

"More or less."

"Hmmm. Can you be more to the

point?"

"Sure. I've been known to dabble

with them during their mating season."

He eased back into his chair. "And

here I thought I was the only one."

"So, you do play with them on

occasion?"

"I didn't say that. I'll tell you

wat mate. You prove to me you're on the level and then maybe we'll talk."

"What do you have in mind?'

"Gertrude."

"Who's Gertrude?"

"You'll see. We'll get you settled

in and a meal in ya and go from there."

And that is exactly what we did.

After eating a meal of things cut from a can, he took me out behind the station

to a wall off enclosure. There was a burrow to one side, but no animal sight. Seeing

as it was hot out, even the hardy kangaroos knew when to get out of the sun.

But whatever it was in here, he wasn't telling me just yet. All he'd say is,

"If you do Gertrude, I trust your word on anything."

That got my interest up. The burrow

was good sized, but I wasn't familiar with what might have made it. It wasn't

until later when he went out with a bucket of grain and vegetable scraps that I

got to see her.

She was a big ball of fur, rather

cute in an odd way, and hardly something I thought I could go sticking my cock

into. Gertrude was a wombat.

I didn't know much at all about

them. No zoos in the United States had any such animal, and even things like

the familiar wallabies, kangaroos and koalas were rare to the point of being

nonexistent. So seeing her for the first time was a revelation. However, I made

my feelings known to Nigel.

"This isn't big enough for me to do

anything with. I'd kill her trying to get inside"

"You've got a good heart mate, but

maybe you've got roos in you upper paddock. You're right. If I tried to stick

my donger into her hidey hole, I'd end up serving her for the next day's meal.

"

"Then what's the point?"

"I'll show ya."

He let her eat, and when she was

full and rather lazy, he jumped in, hoisted her up and came back over the wall.

"Now Gertie here, she's a good girl, but she's got claws that'll tear apart

rock if she's in the mood. She needs her sleeping bag first."

I watched with curiosity as he

strapped her into a canvas suit. It had two openings, one for her head and one

for her back end. He legs were cinched in snuggly, keeping her from moving. She

looked comical, but in no way alarmed at her predicament. Apparently this was

old hat.

Nigel flipped her over on his cot.

"Now you see here, a wombat is a marsupial like everything else on our blessed

slice of planet Earth."

"I know that."

"Well, she's got the female parts

alright, but they're not you're normal ones."

"I know that too!"

"So you see, if you were a kid, then

maybe you could get your donger inside her, but trying to stick a full sized

one in won't work. But wat she does have mate, is her pouch. And because the

little bugger is a digger, her pouch faces backwards. Nature did that to keep

her joey from getting all dirty. And that pouch you see is stretchy like,

because a joey goes from being an ankle biter to a good sized youngster before

he moves out."

To demonstrate, he pried open a

flap of skin, showing a hollow as he pulled up on it. It was definitely more

likely to handle a human cock than her cloaca, which might take my middle

finger to the hilt without too much trouble but nothing more.

I was immediately intrigued. I had

never thought of anything like this before. If this were some sort of test, I

suppose then that I needed to pass it. "What do you do for lube?" After all,

the pouch wasn't made of any sort of tissue that self lubricated.

"Doesn't matter. I usually just

either get a good wad of spit in my hand, or a little cooking oil. The

important thing is that when you're done playing with her to get her cleaned up

and dry. Can't have my girl getting an infection from having moisture in her

pocket, now can I?"

I was wavering. He seemed legit,

for why else would he have this little setup for her. "So, I can have a go?"

"Be my guest. Little Gertie is

amiable enough, though she hardly ever sees strangers. It's just her and me and

a few thousand square miles of outback."

I nervously stripped down, feeling

a little ill at ease in doing s in front of someone. He didn't say a word.

Since he didn't offer any lubricant, I spit in my hands until the palms were slick

and I rubbied my stiff cock from top to bottom. I had seen how he had opened

her pouch and I repeated the movements and was rewarded with a puckered entrance.

The cot was narrow, so I straddled it and bent my knees until I was able to

press the head of my cock at the opening. Once the head was inside, the rest

slid in easily. It was weird, but nice.

I dropped down on top of her,

bracing myself on the side supports of the cot. I looked up at Nigel. "How much

can she take?"

"Length or energy mate?"

"Energy I guess. She's seems to be

taking what I have to give fairly well."

"Go easy at first. I ain't never

hurt her, but there's first time for everything."

I went slowly, trying to get a feel

for what I was doing. Any vagina, even in a marsupial, surrounds you evenly. It's

firm in all directions. With this, it was firm on the underside of my cock where

it rubbed her belly, but that sensation was a bit less on the top as her skin

stretched a little around me.

"This isn't hurting her is it?"

"Naw. A joey grows claws early on.

If she's tough enough against that, a little bit of soft meat ain't goin to

bother her none. She and I have been having fun for over a year now."

Satisfied with his explanation, and

now aware that he at least was a comrade of sorts, I allowed my body weight to

press down on her as I picked up speed. This pouch must have a great ability to

expand, just like a uterus, for at the moment, I couldn't imagine anything more

that a very small baby being able to fit inside it.

 My cock was quite happy to be where it was.

She struggled a bit inside her

straight jacket, and this made a little uncomfortable, but remembering the ease

at how he handed her before, and her willingness to be trussed up, I figured

she was just letting off some errant energy. Her actions weren't violent; they

were more like she was trying to adjust herself within the confines of her "sleeping

bag"..

I held up my upper half, allowing

my lower body to press against her. Wombats aren't huge, but she was a good

forty pounds or more. I have a feeling she was probably getting more food than

was necessary and had packed on a little extra weight. It made sense in two

ways. One, she was his pet. People always pampered their pets. And secondly,

the heavier she was, the more likely it was that she wouldn't come to any harm

from his hanky-panky.

I fucked her for quite a while. I

really had no idea that this was a daily routine for the two of them, so I

figured I'd better make my first time a good one. It might be my last.  It wasn't. I finally came after a good twenty

minutes of pounding away, making the cot creak and groan as I really got into

this novel method of getting off.

When I came, I spilled out inside

her with a gush. I stayed where I was for a moment, making sure my legs would

hold me before getting off.

"Well mate, wat do ya think?" His

grin was enormous.

"It was different. I would never

have thought of such a thing."

"You'll have to tell me about your

experiences. I have a feeling there's more to you than meets the eye." As he

was talking he was stripping down. He was lean and fit from his years in the

Outback. He straddled the bed and thrust into her pouch. "It's rare that I go as

the after man. It's nice to have the old girl warmed up and ready for action.

This was the first time I had ever

watched someone do what I did. It's one thing to know what you're doing and

another to watch. It was pretty intense. I was thinking now that I should have

invested in a movie camera. But then; no. If someone found the film reels, I

would be out of a job and behind bars. Some things where best left to memory alone.

I thought that I had maybe been a

little rough, but Nigel had the whole cot shaking before he was done. Gertie

had been driven up on the cot a good six or seven inches by the time he blew

his load inside. When he pulled out, a flow of sticky white followed. He picked

her up and took her to a wash basin, where he rinsed out her pouch before

drying it carefully. He then undid the apparatus that was holding her in place

and gently tossed her back over the wall to her enclosure.

"Well mate, I never thought I'd see

the day I found another bloke interested in a wider range of sheilas than

myself. I suppose you have some stories to tell me?"

"Only if you share some of yours."

"Crikey! Wat's there to tell. All

I've got is my Gertrude and a host of roos."

"That's it?"

"No, to be honest. But I'm not

always a nice person. I don't like dingoes, and I make sure they know it. Not

sure how you'd feel about those stories."

"I guess you'll just have to tell

me and let me decide."

"Sounds like we'll need a few pints

to tide us over. What say you and I drive to the bottle shop grab us some

roadies?"

"Is there one close?"

"Sure. Only about forty kilometers

south of here. That's nothing."

"Then what are we waiting for. I'm

buying!"