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Dance of the Purple Moon

40×30 oil on canvas

He races at her, biting along her mane and at the ears. She kicks him hard. Their struggle, short but brutal, a primitive, lustful dance, their ritual of mating. They circle about until she allows him to smell her, keeping well away from a mount.

Bearing his teeth, he screams wildly. A mount is imminent, so hard and regal. Once again, she moves to the side, a well-planned agitation. He enters instead her anus, him screaming in ecstasy, her, wincing in pain.

Excerpt from Steps: A Memoir