Desire

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 35 of 344 · 20 per page

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  “You hold the left and I’ll hold the right,” said Krock. Henriette felt the two suction cups embrace and conform themselves to her cheeks, and then there was a sound of a vacuum motor starting and jiggly vibrating sensations, and she felt pressure as both men leaned against the suction cups, holding the seal in place. “Oooooooffff,” she said. It felt strange but strange in a delectable way and then, when Mischa and Krock together started rotating their suction cups—“to distribute the energy uniformly,” Krock explained—she put her head down and gave herself up to their ministrations, feeling her privacies stretched and held open and then squeezed shut. “God dang!” she said. “Holy effing shitter wiggle.” And then she started to feel the growing—she felt a heaviness to her ass as it grew and grew and grew and grew and grew. “Don’t let the cups slip off as she gets bigger,” Mischa warned, “keep pressing.” Finally they were finished. The groan of the vacuum pump stopped. The vibrating suction pads released themselves with a juicy kissing sound. “Okay, baby,” said Krock. “You have now got some seriously heavy assjunk. Mmm, mmm, mmm!” He rolled a full-length mirror over. Henriette stood. “Holy cow!” she said. She reached back and squeezed it—it was like squeezing two soft smooshy pillows. She tightened one crumpet muscle and then the other and felt how that felt. “I hope Number 53 likes this,” she said, “because this is one major derriere.” She turned toward the two of them, wearing only her bra. “What’s your verdict?” They were both open-mouthed. Her eyes flitted to Krock’s nethers, and she saw what looked like a stack of Duplo blocks. “The verdict is yes.” Mischa said, “And now, the fixative.” “What’s that?” asked Henriette. “I will excuse myself and Krock here will come on your new humongous ass.” “What? I didn’t know about that. What happens if he doesn’t come on my ass?” “It shrinks back to normal size in ten minutes.” “No!” “Yes. You have to have the fixative. For each man who comes on your ass, it’ll remain humongous for a full hour, up to a total of twenty-four hours. How much fixative do you want?” “The full twenty-four.” “Then you’ll need us to summon the beginning of the Man Line. Kneel on the couch and Krock will come on your ass, and when he’s done I’ll wipe you down and send in the next man. Okay?” Henriette knelt on the couch and waited, jiggling her amazingly huge ass a few times to get used to how it moved. “Okay,” she said. “Bring on the Man Line.” [image "decoration" file=image_rsrc2SW.jpg] Dave Trespasses

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Oh, juice it, juice it, I’M COMING!” Pendle Buys a Bathing Sui t P endle called up Lila and asked her how he could improve his cumshot. “Mine just kind of curves over the tip and drips off. Can you recommend some kind of herbal supplement?” “People talk a lot about lecithin,” said Lila, “but lecithin only takes you so far. Here’s what I’d recommend. Go buy yourself a Thompson Heftyshot bathing suit. It’s got the patented Active Grid inner pouch. Wear that around for a couple of days. It goes to work on all your glands, and you’ll be amazed. I’ve seen some sad dribblers transformed.” Pendle took a moment to think about that. “Where would I get this bathing suit?” “At Big Top Sports on O Street. The blue ones with the big yellow flowers work best.” Pendle went to Big Top Sports on O Street and walked down the center aisle past the vibrating kayaks. “Can I help you find something?” asked a woman in a yellow polo shirt. Her name tag said Trix, and she was a nice handful of prettiness and eyelashes. “Could you point me in the direction of the, ah—” Pendle consulted his notes. “Thompson Heftyshot bathing suits?” “Men’s?” Trix asked. Pendle was surprised. “There’s a women’s Heftyshot?” “Sure,” the girl said. “Some girls want to be gushers. They don’t understand that it’s rare. All guys shoot, but only a few girls gush.” “I see what you’re saying. Actually, though, I don’t shoot. That’s why I’m here. I sort of pour.” “Ew. Sorry, I don’t mean that. Follow me.” They walked next to each other, and because they weren’t talking Pendle could hear Trix’s body move. He could hear her footsteps traveling up through her legs, bunka bunka bunka bunka, and he could hear her hips going slant slant slant, and he could hear her cheery little breasts jostling in their little tit-cozies, jostle, jostle, jostle. He looked over at her. “This is a big store,” he said. “It’s got everything,” she agreed. They kept walking. Finally they reached the men’s bathing suits. They turned the corner. “Do you like the display?” she asked. “I designed it.” Pendle made enthusiastic noises. “I like the way you offset one bathing suit over the other—that’s fresh. That’s fresh new work.” She thanked him and touched him lightly on the arm. “The Heftyshots are around this side,” she said. “I believe you just touched me,” he said. “Just a twitch of the hand.” She beckoned him on. “These blue ones with the yellow flowers are nice, I think.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  He seemed a little hesitant. Rhumpa asked him, “Are you a guest, too?” “Yes, but I’m on an intensive work-study program because I accumulated a great deal of debt and they assigned me to do intake.” “I see,” Rhumpa said. He changed his tone. “You’re very pretty,” he said, leaning forward. “You have a lovely spicy smell. Excuse me.” He sneezed. “What else does it say on your clipboard?” “It says you’d like to dance in a solo porn video and hold your pussy folds open with your hands, and then you’d like to watch nine men watching your video and getting completely out of control.” “Hm, is that so?” He tapped his finger on the page. “I’m just going by what it says.” “Well—I do like the idea of men being out of control at the sight of me.” “Ah.” “But I don’t want anybody to watch me making the video.” “Of course. You can do it in your hotel room. I’ll take you there now.” They rose, and Daggett led her to an elevator and down several hallways and then they came to a catwalk. “Don’t be worried,” Daggett said. “We’re going through a visual privation area. You’ll probably hear some shouting. The men are Deprivos. They haven’t been able to see nude breasts in any form for three full weeks. This is the last day of their treatment, and they’re in pretty sorry shape.” Below was a crowd of men looking up at her. “Take off the top, baby!” they called. “Show us the titties! Flash them, honey, just for a second! Shake them, jiggle them, squeeze them together!” Finally, Daggett exploded. “For gosh sakes, men, Rhumpa’s not going to show off her titties right here! They’re way too hot for that. Have some sense. If you want to see her nude you’ll have to go to one of the booths in the boothbay after you get out of Deprivo. Check channel six, where, if we’re lucky, she’ll be doing the homemade amateur nasty for us and showing us her hot fat warblers. Right, Rhumpa?” Rhumpa shrugged, a little nervous. “Maybe.” “And congratulations, men, on making it through the program.” That quieted them down, and Rhumpa and Daggett passed on without incident. They turned down a hall and reached Rhumpa’s room, number 715. Daggett opened the door for her and ushered her in. He set the bag down on the bed, massaging his stiff fingers. “What’s in your bag?” Rhumpa asked. “This is the bag of bras. Aside from intake, my job is to carry this bag on my back and help women choose a new bra for their time in the House of Holes.” “That must be fun for you,” Rhumpa said. He nodded. “Yes and no. The bag is a burden to me at times, because of the conditions of my assignment.” “You must like breasts.” He nodded. “Of course.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  There were so many things that he could do wrong. For instance, if he leaned toward her and said, “Trix, I’d so like to munch on that apple ass of yours”—that would not be good. Even at the House of Holes, especially at the House of Holes, crassness didn’t pay. If he said, “I have half a pound of prime Angus cockbrisket ready for you”—that would not be good, either. And then he thought, You know, so what? He said, “There’s something I want to say, but I don’t think I should say it. I mean, it’s not that outrageous, it’s just that it’s not something that you normally say at the checkout counter.” “You’d be surprised at what people say here.” Pendle said, “I was going to say that I wish I was a man who had a store where he made custom sequin pasties for exotic dancers and you were an exotic dancer and came into the store and ordered a set of spiral pasties and so I had to measure your aureoles for fit.” “How would you measure them, with a ruler?” “Probably with my mouth,” said Pendle, “and then I’d measure my mouth with the ruler.” “I see. How does the bathing suit feel?” “Intense. Things are definitely hopping down there. But here’s the thing. When I look at you my fingertips actually go cold on me. Your face is that powerful. Do you want to have a bowl of soup and half a sandwich?” “Sure, I’d like that.” So at nine o’clock, when Trix got off work, she and Pendle went to a restaurant and had smooth soup and talked about working at the House of Holes. Pendle showed her the little purple vial of Bohu’s beardwater. Trix said, “What does it do, make you horny? I don’t need much help with that.” “Me neither, frankly,” said Pendle. “But I think it also makes the sexual experience more intense.” “Well then, I’ll try a drop in my spritzer.” “I’ll put a drop in my spritzer, too, so we’re even,” said Pendle. Then they went for a walk down Quim Street and turned right on Loulou Avenue. They talked about shipping lanes, the European Union, Trix’s French grandmother, and what Trix did after she got home from work when she wasn’t at the House of Holes. Bohu’s beardwater was beginning to kick in by then. “I walk around in my bare feet listening to NPR and eating soy crisps and cherry tomatoes,” Trix said. “Gradually I take off my clothes. I open the fridge and look in the celery drawer, and I sometimes flash the fridge my pussyhair, and the fridge seems to like it. At least, its motor comes on and it gives me a breath of cold air. I like to have my breasts out when I eat soy crisps.” “And then a little later you . . .” “Mhm.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Pendle went to Big Top Sports on O Street and walked down the center aisle past the vibrating kayaks. “Can I help you find something?” asked a woman in a yellow polo shirt. Her name tag said Trix, and she was a nice handful of prettiness and eyelashes. “Could you point me in the direction of the, ah—” Pendle consulted his notes. “Thompson Heftyshot bathing suits?” “Men’s?” Trix asked. Pendle was surprised. “There’s a women’s Heftyshot?” “Sure,” the girl said. “Some girls want to be gushers. They don’t understand that it’s rare. All guys shoot, but only a few girls gush.” “I see what you’re saying. Actually, though, I don’t shoot. That’s why I’m here. I sort of pour.” “Ew. Sorry, I don’t mean that. Follow me.” They walked next to each other, and because they weren’t talking Pendle could hear Trix’s body move. He could hear her footsteps traveling up through her legs, bunka bunka bunka bunka, and he could hear her hips going slant slant slant, and he could hear her cheery little breasts jostling in their little tit-cozies, jostle, jostle, jostle. He looked over at her. “This is a big store,” he said. “It’s got everything,” she agreed. They kept walking. Finally they reached the men’s bathing suits. They turned the corner. “Do you like the display?” she asked. “I designed it.” Pendle made enthusiastic noises. “I like the way you offset one bathing suit over the other—that’s fresh. That’s fresh new work.” She thanked him and touched him lightly on the arm. “The Heftyshots are around this side,” she said. “I believe you just touched me,” he said. “Just a twitch of the hand.” She beckoned him on. “These blue ones with the yellow flowers are nice, I think. What size are you?” “Large,” he said. Then he said: “Do you ever have crazy nights?” “Sweetie pie, don’t we all?” Pendle thought, I love talking to this graceful eyelash girl at Big Top Sports on O Street. Then there was a bling and a woman’s voice came on the PA system. “Trix to the front for a price check.” “Oh, that’s me, I better go,” she said. “Wait,” Pendle said, “I want to try these on.” “With Heftyshots you have to buy what you try,” said Trix. “Do you know how to put it on?” “It looks complicated,” said Pendle. Trix held the suit open. “It isn’t. You put your jacksons in the pouch, and then just hang pete out front, like that.” She indicated how with curled fingers and index extended. “Got it,” Pendle said. “Can I wear them out of the store?” “Come to my register, I’ll scan you.” He could hear her shoes going tap tap tap tap, until he couldn’t hear them anymore. He thought about how amazingly petite she was and how amazingly attractive, and he thought, I wonder what would happen if I gave her a drop of Bohu’s beardwater?

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  “Can I ask you something impertinent? Do you ever come out here and just want to take your pants off? With the sky so huge and those clouds just hanging there?” “Do I come out here sometimes and play with myself?” Dave nodded. “Yeah. Do you do rude things to your little pulsing happy bloated clit, who’s sitting there in the prow of the boat, looking backward at the rowers with her horn saying, ‘Row, team, row, row the boat faster, and when you reach the shore, slide way up on the warm sand’? Do you do that?” The woman looked down at her dog for a moment, and then she said, “Once I did sort of take my pants off.” “What made you do it?” “It was a hot day, and I wanted to feel the breeze on my bottom—I think that’s why.” “Don’t you want to feel the breeze now?” “Mm, but this is an awkward situation.” “I know it’s awkward but, hey, that’s what makes it fun. I’ve spent all day in the darned Porndecahedron looking at self-filmed amateur masturbation movies, and I’ve seen almost too much of it, if that’s possible.” “You’re at the House of Holes, and you’re watching mas-turbation movies? I thought it was a sexual paradise.” “It is,” said Dave. “People masturbate a lot in paradise, let me tell you. Have you been?” “Nope, never have. We sometimes get people wandering over, so I’ve heard some stories, but I’ve never gone. My husband and I—” She trailed off. “And my kids.” “The whole family thing. I see.” “They’re at school—and my husband’s doing one of his trips to France to the cheesemakers’ convention, so I’m here, and I’m—what can I say—walking the dog.” Dave had an idea. “Look, you’re a neighbor to the House of Holes. You should pay a quick visit. I’ll take you. You can just look around. I’m sure Lila—she’s the director—would want to cultivate good relations with abutters.” He peered at her rear. “And you’re definitely an abutter.” “I’ve heard about Lila. But no, thanks. Maybe another time.” “Okay.” They stood on the shoulder of the road. “Well, I’ll be off, then. But will you walk me to the property line? I want to come back here, and I don’t want to trespass.” “Sure. It’s through here,” she said, parting some shrubbery. Her dog made a brief yip of pain. “Oh, sorry, Gumball. Careful, Dave, there are some serious thorns here.” “Thanks, having the one arm makes some things more difficult.” “What happened? An accident?”

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Then the turnips disappeared. Polly looked back at Saucie and Donna. Both their heads were bobbing. They were sucking toad-in-the-hole with guiltless gusto. Polly said, “I wish I knew your name.” There was silence. She said, “I’m going to call you Chief. Okay, Chief? Do you want me to do a private dance for you, Chief?” The racket handle reappeared and it nodded slowly up and down. “I can’t unless you give me a present,” said Polly. After a moment, a little leather pouch of gold sovereigns came flying out of the hole. “Those look like nice pieces of money,” Polly said, “but that wasn’t exactly the present I had in mind.” She waited. “You’re supposed to put your babymaker through this hole.” There was a pause, and Polly said, “Right now, please. I want you hard or soft, doesn’t matter. Put it through, Chief, so I can see what you’ve got.” Finally a large dark semisoft penis flopped out through the hole. After some further fumbling, a matching ballsack was stuffed underneath. The three-pack hung there. “Hello, hello,” said Polly, somewhat surprised that the man had done what she had asked for. “Pleased to meet you, Chief Cock and Bottle Washer.” She had to admit to herself that it was, in fact, quite a nice-looking penis. Not intelligent looking—few penises were—but the testicles did somehow have the air of being attached to a man of substance. And Polly had always liked confident tennis players. “Would you enjoy it if I shook my bottom for you?” she asked. She turned and wiggled her bottom. “Now a bit of tit action!” She turned back around and flashed open her shirt for a second, so that the penis, if it had an eye, could see her bra cleavage. She felt out of breath, and she started talking nasty, the way she always did when she got aroused. “Do you want me to be your little suckslut?” she asked. “Hm?” She never knew where the words came from—they just came out of her. And as she talked, the penis began lifting. She said, “Ooh, you’re getting bigger for me, Chief. Yeah, yeah, I want you totally stiff for me. Is that all you have, you perverted gloryhole fucker? I want you as hard as that racket handle. Come on, baby. Do you like my mouth? Do you like my twenty-seven-year-old nasty cocksucking mouth, you twisted shitter?”

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  She paused just before she closed the door. “I can tell from the way he’s humping the bed that he’s got a big hard-on,” she said. “Turn him on his side, and you’ll have a nice present.” She closed the door. Reese sat next to Nedbody for a moment, looking at the smooth muscular expanse of his back. His arms were flung wide. She smelled his underarms, which though Kathy had washed him had a whiff of man scent. She pulled on the hair, and he shrugged. Then she couldn’t stand it—she had to bring out one of her trusty erotic romances. It was Tastefully Done, one from the Untamed Wanderer series. She read Nedbody a passage as he slept, gently caressing his perfect bottom as she did and feeling his muscles involuntarily tighten as he dry humped the bed. “Shadow’s thighs registered the heat of his haughty stare,” she read. “He seized her roughly and lifted the burning torch of her sex to his mouth. ‘Shadow, I have craved your salt taste for three long years,’ he said, his lips red as embers in the deepening dusk.” “Whoo!” she said. “That’s the stuff! Nedbody, baby, do you mind if I kind of help you turn over?” He didn’t seem to mind, and she eased her fingers under one of the thick muscles of his upper thigh and pulled gently, feeling like a camel driver. He drew his arms in and turned, and she had her first glance at his cock, which lay like a railroad tie hanging out from his body. It moved with his heartbeat. She watched it for a moment, wondering at its independent spirit. “It looks like you have something major going on there, Nedbody,” she said. She found that she couldn’t help herself, and she curled her fingers around the fullness of what remained of his intelligence. “Think with your dick,” she whispered, moving her mouth closer. She pulled one knee up and pushed the other away, and he lay sprawled, jutting upward like some travesty of a Michelangelo sculpture, and from him came the dusty, meaty scent of his balls, which she breathed in for a long time and allowed to swirl around in her brain.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Lila called Mischa in. “The cheekpump,” she said. She held Henriette for a moment. “If you let Mischa work on you with the cheekpump, you’ll get a day with the biggest ass you could possibly want.” “Just one day, and then it goes back to normal?” “Sometimes the ass lasts two days, if the fixative is properly applied. Here is a pair of jeans that will fit you after the procedure.” She handed Henriette a pair of strangely roomy pants. Mischa took her to a small, dimly lit round chamber with a low couch against one wall. He pulled down from the ceiling two enormous clear-plastic suction cups that looked rather like cymbals or dinner plates. “You have to strip down so I can put these on,” he said. She shucked off her pants and scants and knelt on the couch. “Like this?” she said. Mischa was frozen, staring. “My dear, dear friend,” he said. “I don’t know why you want to do anything to that rear end of yours. That is a lovely piece of craftsmanship.” “Thank you,” said Henriette. “But I want it bigger.” “I’m going to have to ask Krock to come in to help position the suction pads. This is too much ass experience for one man. Krock!” There was a slight pause, and then a man emerged, chewing a hastily finished sandwich. He washed his hands at a little sink, winking at Henriette. “What do we got?” Krock said. “One day cheekpump,” said Mischa. “For her?” Krock said. “I don’t think so.” “Eh, she has a thing for a guy who likes a superbig ass.” “In that case,” said Krock sadly, “let’s do it. But first, a moment to look—okay, baby?” Henriette nodded. She sensed them both looking at her exposed wonderloaves and felt a softening and an unfurling in her innernesses. Meanwhile Mischa reached up and pulled down a black hose with a squirt attachment at the end. “This is the flesh-bulging oil,” he said. He misted it lightly over her ass, and she felt strange things begin to happen. “You hold the left and I’ll hold the right,” said Krock.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  So few people are able to tell the truth.” “Let’s see.” Pendle took a deep breath and then poofed it all out. “I think I need twenty-four horny nude women at the same time.” “Twenty-four?” said Lila. “I don’t often tell people this, but you know that a man can really only handle one horny nude woman at a time. Maybe two. Even with two, it’s like that trick where you have to circle your head and pat your stomach. Do you want to reconsider? Think.” Pendle closed his eyes and visualized his dream of desire. He didn’t need twenty-four horny women, he realized, only eight. He wanted some of them to have merry little breasts, and some huge soft heavy sad hangers, and he wanted some of them to be fairly old and some of them to be fairly young, and some to have throaty brunette voices and some wispy chirpy blond voices. He wanted them all to be on their knees on couches and chairs with their asses up and ready and their slippy sloppy fuckfountains on display. He’d walk in front of them holding his generous kindly forgiving dick, saying, “Do you want this ham steak of a Dr. Dick that’s so stuffed with spunk that I’m ready to blow this swollen sackload all over you?” And they’d all say, “Yes, Mr. Fuckwizard, we want that fully spunkloaded meatloaf of a ham steak of a dick.” Pendle explained all this to Lila as well as he could. “They’d be supercharged and overdosed with horniness,” he said, “be-cause for eight days beforehand each one of them would have been imagining that eight guys were in front of her staring at her and pumping off their meatsticks, and each guy who’s pumping his meatstick would have been imagining for eight days that he was in a room with eight lovely ultrahorny women, and those women would be imagining that they’re in a room with eight ultrahorny meatsticks, and so on.” “Gee whiz.” Lila reached for a calculator. “So far your dream involves slightly more than four thousand people,” she said. “If it does, it does,” Pendle replied. “Actually my dream involves every woman in the world.” “Ah, does it?” “Yes. I want every woman in the world to see my dick. I want you to see it, for instance.” “Not right now,” said Lila. “You could make a movie of me holding my dick and then project it on the moon. I’d like that.” “That’s not really our style,” said Lila, “but I like your ambition. Tell you what. Daggett! Daggett will give you a twenty-minute tour now, so you have a sense of what you’re in for, and then why don’t you go away and earn, say, thirty-five hundred dollars somehow, and come on back and we’ll give you a work-study position here. That’s a steep discount. How does that sound?” “Good.”

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Rhumpa had an eggplant panini down at the café, and then Daggett led her down a hall inset with sixteen square, mirrored windows. There were green and red lights above each window. “In each of these little rooms is a man,” said Daggett. “He has control of a video screen that has sixteen possible tracks. By clicking a button he can switch from one track to the next. You can look in any of the windows, but only when the light is green is someone looking at the movie of you dancing.” She nodded. She stood for a moment. All the lights were red, and then one was momentarily green, and then it went red again. Another light changed from red to green and stayed at green. Rhumpa walked to the window and peered in through the one-way mirror. In it was a man she hadn’t seen before. Rhumpa was watching him from the side so that she could see a little bit of her own dancing performance. Mainly she saw him, sitting in a chair, squeezing his united parcel through his pants. She looked at his face and saw how intently he was looking at her dance, and she saw that when she turned around and lifted the scarf he undid his belt. He stood and pushed his pants down and out flopped a heavy, ugly dick in the shadows of the little room. He stroked on himself several times and then he clicked the channel-selection button with the back of his hand. He began watching someone else strip. That was a rude shock. Rhumpa stood back and looked at all of the doors: Three lights were on the green. She hurried to each window. In one room, a man had entirely removed his pants and underpants. He stood in his dress shoes, naked from the waist down, his feet tightly together, his fist shuttling over his small tuber. In the next one, a guy in jeans was leaning way back, his jeans unzipped and open, his dick-ball ensemble flaccidly out and about. In the third was Dune. He hadn’t yet taken his pants down. Breathing softly so as not to fog the glass, Rhumpa watched Dune remove his suede jacket and hang it on a hook on the back of the door. She watched him study the video of her dancing with her finger in her snatch patch. For a while he didn’t move, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking; then all of a sudden he wrenched open his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and slid his boxers down. His dick bobbled once and stood still, its tip angling up slightly. He enclosed it with two hands and looked back at Rhumpa’s movie.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  That’s why I’m here. I sort of pour.” “Ew. Sorry, I don’t mean that. Follow me.” They walked next to each other, and because they weren’t talking Pendle could hear Trix’s body move. He could hear her footsteps traveling up through her legs, bunka bunka bunka bunka, and he could hear her hips going slant slant slant, and he could hear her cheery little breasts jostling in their little tit-cozies, jostle, jostle, jostle. He looked over at her. “This is a big store,” he said. “It’s got everything,” she agreed. They kept walking. Finally they reached the men’s bathing suits. They turned the corner. “Do you like the display?” she asked. “I designed it.” Pendle made enthusiastic noises. “I like the way you offset one bathing suit over the other—that’s fresh. That’s fresh new work.” She thanked him and touched him lightly on the arm. “The Heftyshots are around this side,” she said. “I believe you just touched me,” he said. “Just a twitch of the hand.” She beckoned him on. “These blue ones with the yellow flowers are nice, I think. What size are you?” “Large,” he said. Then he said: “Do you ever have crazy nights?” “Sweetie pie, don’t we all?” Pendle thought, I love talking to this graceful eyelash girl at Big Top Sports on O Street. Then there was a bling and a woman’s voice came on the PA system. “Trix to the front for a price check.” “Oh, that’s me, I better go,” she said. “Wait,” Pendle said, “I want to try these on.” “With Heftyshots you have to buy what you try,” said Trix. “Do you know how to put it on?” “It looks complicated,” said Pendle. Trix held the suit open. “It isn’t. You put your jacksons in the pouch, and then just hang pete out front, like that.” She indicated how with curled fingers and index extended. “Got it,” Pendle said. “Can I wear them out of the store?” “Come to my register, I’ll scan you.” He could hear her shoes going tap tap tap tap, until he couldn’t hear them anymore. He thought about how amazingly petite she was and how amazingly attractive, and he thought, I wonder what would happen if I gave her a drop of Bohu’s beardwater? He went to the changing room and stuffed his ballsack into the pouch and tied the waistband of the suit. It looked pretty good, but it felt strange—as if his testicles were trying to sing the song about a horse with no name. He pulled his pants on over the suit, leaving the tag flapping visibly. At the register, Trix pointed her scanning gun at his pants, and it made the bleep. “Two hundred and four dollars,” she said. Pendle pulled out his wallet, and he gave Trix some bills. She handed him back his change. He hesitated. He’d come to the test. Here was the moment.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Nice and slow. I start to push it in a little and then I stop—not yet, cause I like the push part so much, and I circle it around the outside some where the choirboys sing because it feels so good on the outside and my asshole starts to melt and depuckerize and get all soft and willing and ready for this big hard screwdriver handle that I’m about to—ooooooof, there it goes in. Screwdriver’s going in. Awwwll.” “Is it all the way in?” “No. I can feel the edgy parts, the facets. It’s about an inch in. I wish you could see my cunt staring at the ceiling, Card. My cunnyhole is just looking straight up, and I’m holding the metal part of the screwdriver. I can wiggle it a little bit, that feels good. Ooh.” “You’re making me nuts!” “Stand up and slip off that bathing suit. I want to see your ass while I keep pushing and jiggling on this thing.” Cardell’s suit dropped to the ground, and he kicked it so that it billowed and landed on a bowl of shells. He flexed his asscheek muscles, trying to look as buff as possible. She said, “You’re a hairy candy-bun boy, aren’t you? Can you show me your asshole?” “What? No.” “Why not?” she asked. “I’m not into that,” said Cardell. “This is about your ass, not mine.” “Nonsense, just show it to me, bun boy, bend over. Give me a good look. Come on.” Finally, Cardell bent and opened his asscheeks for her to have a look. “Oh, Card, that’s one tiny hairy asshole you got. Very discreet. What’s the matter, you’ve never shown anyone your asshole before?” “This is outside my comfort zone.” “Good, well, good. Now grab your cock and get it in its comfort zone, honey, and do just what you want to do with it. I’m going to screw myself with this screwy fucker, I’m going to—hooo. I’m going to let it go in till my asshole muscle locks on the—almost, almost—handle’s—there it is—narrower part. Hoh, it’s locked in. Hoo yeah. Fuck. I’ve got this shiny silver screwdriver pointing straight out my ass, I wish you could see it.” Cardell scanned the room for reflective surfaces. He thought he could almost see some of what was going on behind him in the curve of a glass vase filled with colored sand. “Me, too,” he said. “Well, do the next best thing and jerk your bull cock while I abuse myself with this thing, just jerk and jack and pound it like you love to do every single day and night. And if you can, tighten your buns again so I get something to look at besides your arms and elbow moving, although I must say they’re nice arms.” “Okay.” He breathed little panting breaths, his hips rocking as he flummoxed his beatstick. “I’m going to take a moment to check in on my nipples now.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” Luna replied with a laugh, not knowing exactly what the Masturboats were. But inside she was saying, Why not? Because she knew that his kind of easy glancing manner was not all that common. Men turned thirty-eight, thirty-nine, and it was like someone dimmed the lights. When they’re young, they’re hilarious and bubbly and boyish. And bad. So bad. When they’re old, they’re flat and stupid and dull. She watched them in airports with their wives: brain-dead, mostly. And yet this man, Chuck, was probably forty-five at least. He still had some humor left in him. He was funny about how hot the plates were. Not funny in a poking kind of way, but in a cheerful way. He had a shock of Jimmy Stewart hair that he flung around. In some ways a beautiful man, with a rough grace to him. Why had she refused his polite offer? Of course she should have said yes to the Masturboats, whatever they were. But she just didn’t want to. Chuck was unfazed. “Then would you like to go with me to an intimate concert of Russian piano music and sit in the Velvet Room, and I’ll toy with your hair?” She took a breath, thinking. “I like Russian music,” she said finally. “That sounds nice. Sure.” First, though, she needed to go to Tan Wizards. She didn’t want to have white shoulders when she wore her black dress with the spaghetti straps. She didn’t want to be some blinking creature coming out of her nocturnal burrow for a grand musical adventure. She wanted to be working from a position of strength, with cinnamon-colored shoulders that shrugged and moved alluringly. So she went to Tan Wizards and signed up. The girl there asked her which room she wanted, Room 1, Room 2, or Room 3. “Which do you recommend for very fast results?” Luna asked. “The bulbs are best in Room 3,” the girl said, and she winked. “And I recommend this bronzer. It’s on special, only twenty-seven dollars tonight.” “Leo’s Tanlord Bronzer?” “Yes, it’s fantastic, it makes you irresistible.”

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  And eventually it was all done. ” “Transfer accomplished,” said Mindy, shifting in her chair. “Yes, I had Marcie’s clit and pussy, and she had my cock. We were all three of us totally wiped afterward—Rianne was exhausted, poor gal—and while we were putting on our clothes I asked Marcela, ‘Can I walk you on back to your hotel room?’ Lila said she thought that would be a good idea because there’s always an adjustment period for the transferees. But Marcela said no, thanks, she wanted to be alone with her new penis. So I went back to my hotel room, and I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to get used to my pussylips, which I kind of liked, and then I took a little nap, and then the phone rang, and it was Marcie.” “What a surprise,” said Mindy. “She said she was having some problems getting the hang of my cock, and could I come down and show her some things. I said, ‘Sure, I can visit for a bit.’ I went to her room, and she was there posing in front of her mirror, and I asked her how she felt, and she just opened up her bathrobe. And god damn, she was this beautiful naked babe with two big bosoms and my big load of dick just hanging there.” Mindy envisioned it. “Mmm.” “She was a real chick with a real dick, and I’m not going to lie to you, it turned me on to see that cock of mine having found a happy home between her legs.” “Was it hard?” asked Mindy. “No, not terribly hard—that’s what she wanted help with. She said, ‘I want a real stiff one, can you help me with that?’ “I said, ‘You want me to play with my own dick? Sure, I can do that. Hell, I’ve done it a thousand times.’ But she said, ‘Dune, I want you to suck your dick.’ I said, ‘Woo, sorry, can’t do it. I do draw the line there. But I can give you a handjob because you attract me. I bet you’ll look sexy with a stiff dick.’ So she sat on the corner of the bed with her knees open, and I sat behind her.” “Can you demonstrate how?” Mindy asked. Dune took off his pants and his black briefs and sat on the corner of the bed. “I was sitting behind her like this,” he said. “Wait.” Mindy adjusted the camera. “Now you’re seeing my pussy, aren’t you?” asked Dune. “As requested.” “Yes,” said Mindy in a low voice, “thank you.” Dune pulled his pudendum open. “Mindy, let me ask you: Do you want to interview this pussy?” Mindy nodded. “Okay, then give me a microphone. Do you have a big microphone?

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Mindy put one leg on the bed, nodding. “And then she stood up, and she turned herself around,” Dune went on, “and I had a view of her that was like”—he held up his hands. “I looked up at her eyes and her face looking down at me and then these nice heavy, hanging tits and then her big hips and then, look out, there’s my heavy cock on her.” “She must have wanted you to jerk her off,” said Mindy. “Yes, she said, ‘Now I want you to help me get my dick off.’ I said, ‘Marcie, it’s just as much my dick as it is yours.’ And now, Mindy, that’s all I’m going to say about this unless you promise me one thing.” “What’s that?” said Mindy. “Promise me that when I get my penis back you’ll give some serious thought to fucking me, because you attract me sexually. ” Mindy said, “I’ll think about it. But right now how about let’s jill off together side by side, and you keep telling me what happened, because I can’t resist playing with myself, Dune, but I also need to get your story.” “I’m glad to hear it, Mindy, honey—come on and sit next to me,” said Dune, scooting himself back on her bed. Mindy adjusted the camera again and pulled off her shirt. “So what did you and Marcela do?” “I took both her hands and I said, ‘I want to play with your nipples and hold your legs open while you do your cock,’ and I gently put her hands on the cock bundle. She took it, and she began moving her hand up and down, and it was amazing how quickly she got a feel for it. That dick got harder on her than it had been on me in a long time. I said, ‘That’s the business, honey. You get that dick to do what’s right for you.’ She was getting hot, and she said, ‘It feels so good to jack on it, and I’ll tell you what I want to do, I want to fuck you with it.’ ” Mindy had eased her hand into her sweatpants as she listened. “Really?” “So I said what the hell,” said Dune. “I flung myself back on the bed like a bride on her wedding day and I said, ‘Go on ahead, Marcie, fuck me like you know how.’ She said, ‘Guide me in you, baby—you know where you want it to go.’ So I circled around my cunny to get the head all juiced and ready and then I said, ‘Shove it on inside, Marcie, I’m ready for a dick pounding.’ ” Mindy’s eyes were closed and her hand was moving as she imagined the scene. “How did it feel?” she asked. “Well, it was a good feeling, Mindy, a good full feeling.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Be honest. So few people are able to tell the truth.” “Let’s see.” Pendle took a deep breath and then poofed it all out. “I think I need twenty-four horny nude women at the same time.” “Twenty-four?” said Lila. “I don’t often tell people this, but you know that a man can really only handle one horny nude woman at a time. Maybe two. Even with two, it’s like that trick where you have to circle your head and pat your stomach. Do you want to reconsider? Think.” Pendle closed his eyes and visualized his dream of desire. He didn’t need twenty-four horny women, he realized, only eight. He wanted some of them to have merry little breasts, and some huge soft heavy sad hangers, and he wanted some of them to be fairly old and some of them to be fairly young, and some to have throaty brunette voices and some wispy chirpy blond voices. He wanted them all to be on their knees on couches and chairs with their asses up and ready and their slippy sloppy fuckfountains on display. He’d walk in front of them holding his generous kindly forgiving dick, saying, “Do you want this ham steak of a Dr. Dick that’s so stuffed with spunk that I’m ready to blow this swollen sackload all over you?” And they’d all say, “Yes, Mr. Fuckwizard, we want that fully spunkloaded meatloaf of a ham steak of a dick.” Pendle explained all this to Lila as well as he could. “They’d be supercharged and overdosed with horniness,” he said, “be-cause for eight days beforehand each one of them would have been imagining that eight guys were in front of her staring at her and pumping off their meatsticks, and each guy who’s pumping his meatstick would have been imagining for eight days that he was in a room with eight lovely ultrahorny women, and those women would be imagining that they’re in a room with eight ultrahorny meatsticks, and so on.” “Gee whiz.” Lila reached for a calculator. “So far your dream involves slightly more than four thousand people,” she said. “If it does, it does,” Pendle replied. “Actually my dream involves every woman in the world.” “Ah, does it?” “Yes. I want every woman in the world to see my dick. I want you to see it, for instance.” “Not right now,” said Lila . “You could make a movie of me holding my dick and then project it on the moon. I’d like that.” “That’s not really our style,” said Lila, “but I like your ambition. Tell you what. Daggett! Daggett will give you a twenty-minute tour now, so you have a sense of what you’re in for, and then why don’t you go away and earn, say, thirty-five hundred dollars somehow, and come on back and we’ll give you a work-study position here. That’s a steep discount.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  “Tell it in the minutest detail,” Cardell said. But Jackie had an odd look. “Wait a sec,” she said. She began breathing strangely and put her hand on Cardell’s arm. “I need your help with something. Stand behind me.” Cardell stood behind where she sat on the bar stool. She leaned forward, so that her head was almost on her arms, and pushed her bottom back toward him so that she was almost off the stool. “What’s happening?” Cardell asked. “Put your hand under my dress.” “Here?” “Yeah, just pretend you’re whispering something to me. I’m trying to lay an egg.” The end of the bar where they were was dark and nobody else was sitting nearby, so it was possible to do as she asked. “Now what?” “I’m not sure.” Jackie sat for a moment, leaning forward. Then she straightened and brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Nope, not quite yet.” Cardell sat back down and finished his drink. “Ah, Nelly!” he said. “The great breakthrough,” Jackie was saying, “came in 1842 when Charles Dickens came to the U.S. on his speaking tour. Somebody served him up a big, ice-cold sherry cobbler. It was the first drink made with crushed ice, you know.” “No, I didn’t,” Cardell said. “Oh, yes. And the first drink people drank through a straw.” “Doubly revolutionary,” said Cardell. “Did Charles Dickens like it?” “Loved it, and he had his character Martin Chuzzlewit drink one.” “Ah, old Chuzzlewit,” Cardell said, in a wuffly English accent. “And where do you come down on the question of the size of Dickens’s dick? Big? Little? Doesn’t matter?” “We just don’t know,” said Jackie, with a look of mild ex-asperation. “It’s one of the great mysteries. Now shush and let me tell you about the sherry cobbler.” “They’re real good,” said Cardell. “Then let’s have two more immediately,” said Jackie. “They’re best drunk as fast as possible.” She ordered with a practiced move of her fingers—this woman knew her way around a bar. “Watch out for the spins, though. There’s a book of Oxford bar recipes that says that sherry cobblers have ‘more than once induced vertigo.’ Published in 1827.” “1827, that early, really?” She pointed at him. “You see, the straw allowed you to drink the mixture in a supercooled state.” “And that’s why Martin Chuzzlewit’s eyes rolled back in his head and he said, ‘Good Lord Nelson O’Reilly, what is this marvel?’ ” “Right, he gets totally smashed,” said Jackie. “I mean squashed. And that, you see, ushered in the so-called golden age of the sherry cobbler.” “Can I say,” murmured Cardell, wobbling his head seductively, “that I loved feeling the hot heat coming from under your dress?” “That’s what it’s there for,” said Jackie. “That’s what what’s there for?” “My li’l pussy.” “Oh, your li’l private space heater. Your hot wet—pooter. Your kitten. Mhm. You know—”

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Everything has its price.” “The price is sometimes steep,” said Mindy. “You got that right, hot goddess. Lila’s got us all doing the fucky-fuck and the sucky-suck and the humpy and the squirty and the juicy-Lucy and the ooh, ah, ooh. Everything we do they keep track of, and they know what we want most, and they want to milk us till our money’s all gone and our balls ache, if we have balls, which I don’t at the present time. Because it’s the House of Holes, and is there anything worth paying court to more than a woman with a pretty face and two good titties and one hot switchy ass she wants to shove in your face? Hmm?” Mindy took that as a rhetorical question. “I’m more into men,” she said. “I like men. Sometimes I like smoky men in dirty suede.” “Course you do, Mindy,” he said. “You’re a lovely lusty woman and you want to be a part of this whole slumber party. You want an ‘experience.’ And you will have that at the House of Holes, believe me. If you haven’t already.” “I already got shrunk down and squirted out of a man’s urethra.” “Well, then, there you go.” Dune was tiring. “Listen, would you mind if I moved to the couch for a sec?” “No, go ahead,” said Mindy. “Let me just unclip your mike.” “I just need fifteen minutes of downtime. Thanks for dinner, thanks for the smoke.” He closed his eyes and was asleep almost immediately . Mindy watched him sleep. When he sat up an hour later, she had a second Winchester cigar ready for him. She said, “What was she like? The woman you switched with. You mind if I turn the camera back on?” Dune stretched. “Sure, turn the camera on. Are we rolling? Marcela was her name. She was nice, very friendly. She’d put in a request to do Dick for a Day.” “I’ve heard of Dick for a Day,” said Mindy, with interest. “Yes, now, Dick for a Day is not that involved because they can morph your clitty out for six, eight hours without too much bother, and it’ll go back good as new. But it turned out Marcela wanted something more like Dick for a Couple of Weeks, and that takes a full interplasmic transfer. That’s what it’s called, a ‘cross-crotchal interplasmic transfer.’ I’ll bet you want to know how they do that.” Mindy nodded that she did. “Well, you need a tweenella . That’s the person who is desi-gnated to put her hands on the two crotches that are going to be crossed.

• From House of Holes: A Book of Raunch (2011)

  Henriette pulled her underpants back into position and considered the question. Zilka and Krock both began gently wrapping her upper thighs with soft rope. Their hands sometimes brushed against her pubic hair. “My mind’s in the gutter a lot,” Henriette said. “I’ll remember some nice old man selling magazines near the bus stop, with bushy eyebrows, and I’ll think of seducing him. Or I’ll think of being a coke addict and having to give blowjobs in bus stations for money. I’m into animals, especially horses, beautiful strong brown stallions with very glossy coats and six-pack abs, I think about washing the ends of their long penises with a soft cloth and watching them sniff at a mare and nip her neck, and I think about getting them ready to mount the breeding mount.” Henriette had a dreamy look, slouched back in the chair with her rope-wrapped thighs open. There was definitely something unusual about the Cable of Induhash, she thought—it was very pliant and soft and gripping, and she could feel a sexual current running through it. “I think about putting my hand on the underside of the stallion’s penis just at the moment when he’s coming, so that I can feel the pulses of the ejaculation forcing his hot come through the length of his penis and into the collection jar. Or into me. I’d give birth to a centaur.” Krock paused in his wrapping and sat back on his heels. “You’ve been watching cable.” “Now you’re being honest,” said Lila, unbuttoning her blouse. “Are you afraid of heights?” “Heights? No. I love flying. I went parasailing once in the Cayman Islands.” Zilka finished wrapping the cable around Henriette’s leg and then threaded it between her toes. From there she tied the end of the soft rope around one of Lila’s huge white breasts. Lila was teasing her nipple, which was very dark. “Now I’m going to squirt you with my titmilk, if I can—sometimes it’s difficult to get it to flow, and then I need a nipplerider. But let’s see. We need just a drop or two for your clit, to start the healing process. Krock, honey, will you help me lift my breast? It’s huge today.” Krock, grunting, lifted her breast, and Lila, leaning forward, squeezed out a tiny spray of titmilk directly onto Henriette’s clitoris. Henriette shuddered, feeling an odd sensation that wasn’t pain or pleasure, and wasn’t warm or cold. It flowed through her pelvis and made her Fallopian tubes go squirmy. “Feels like it’s working,” she said. “Fantastic.” Lila untied the rope end from her breast. “Now can you stand up for me? And Zilka, I’ll ask you to wrap the tinkly bells around Henriette’s pretty waist. We’re going to attack this on all fronts.” Zilka arranged the bells. Lila sat in her chair, flicking the end of the cord that led to Henriette’s legs against her crotch. “Thanks for doing all this,” said Henriette.