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.

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• 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.

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

  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 . “We’re going to get you back in the saddle, missy,” said Lila. “Now, Krock, do we have a reasonably handsome and friendly arrival who could accompany our lovely friend Henriette up to the observation tower?

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

  “Dave, please help me come,” she said. “Please fuck the banana in me.” Dave moved it and jiggled it, and she circled her fingers one way and then the other over her crimson clit. She started to come with her legs and her hips, and she smashed herself down on Dave’s banana fist and ground into it and said, “Grrrr,” and watched herself in the mirror humping on the corner of the bed. As her orgasm found its way up her legs, her whole body went clong, clong, clong. “Oh, that’s it, Dave,” she said. But in her mind she was thinking, Ruzty, Ruzty, I love your eyes and face, and I wish you could see me coming. [image "decoration" file=image_rsrc2SW.jpg] Cardell Has a Sherry Cobbler [image "decoration" file=image_rsrc2SX.jpg] Cardell worked at the planning office of a small city, planning brick crosswalks and trying to figure out where people could park. It was interesting work, but he wanted to meet a nice, smart, sexy woman, so he went to a lecture on the history of the municipal water supply and sat down on a folding chair next to a woman with mustard-colored stockings. There was a good crowd, but unfortunately the lecturer had a boring singsong voice. Cardell’s assbones hurt from sitting and his mind was aswirl with obscene imagery, cocks being stuffed everywhere, women’s eyes suddenly going wide in surprise. He began to think more and more about the woman next to him. He liked her mustard-colored knees poking out from the hem of her skirt. She had a little notebook and she was drawing a picture of a cocktail glass. Below that, she’d written “He doesn’t know anything” and underlined it twice. When the audience questions began, Cardell leaned toward her and asked her to the roof bar of a nearby hotel. “I noticed your doodle,” he said, in his thrummiest voice. “You naughty man,” she said. She gave him a speedy once-over and made a single nod. They left as unobtrusively as possible. Turned out her name was Jackie. She sat on a dark-red bar stool and addressed the bartender. “Can you make a sherry cobbler?” she asked. He nodded, sure. “I’ll take one, too,” Cardell said impulsively. He turned back to Jackie. “What’s a sherry cobbler?” “It’s my life’s work,” said Jackie, and moved an eyebrow provocatively. She told Cardell where she taught, and they talked about a big video store near there that had closed recently. “Rented a lot of movies there, back in the day,” said Cardell, closing his eyes in nostalgic reminiscence. “Before everything streamed.” The drinks came, with straws poking out. Cardell took three enormous sips and nodded, blinking and smacking his lips. The drink was incredibly sweet and strong. And good. “So that’s a sherry cobbler,” he said. “Not particularly subtle—but then, who needs subtle?” Jackie sucked hers down greedily. “Damn delicious. I never tire of it. Would you like me to tell you the history of the sherry cobbler?”

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

  Ruzty sat up—his penis, fortunately, had subsided. “Yes, I will stand almost sideways,” he said. “But I will still make my come go quite far that way, I think.” “Good for you,” said Lila. “And thank you, Zilka, for your tips, and let’s see if we can get Ruzty in on tomorrow afternoon’s penis scrub with the other men, if there’s a slot, and we’ll put Shandee on the main station, okay?” “Is this how I should be dressed tomorrow?” asked Shandee. “Just a man’s shirt and crocheted leggings?” Everyone nodded enthusiastically. Ruzty couldn’t take his shining eyes off her. “Oh, I almost forgot the most important thing,” said Lila. “Tomorrow, if you’re inclined, go ahead and stroke the men’s penises. Make them feel good. But gently. Do not ever, ever jerk them through to a climax. If you do, their enthusiasm will flag, and they won’t spend their life savings on activities here at the House. Scrub, don’t tug.” “Scrub, don’t tug, got it,” said Shandee. “I guess I’ll get back to the hotel now.” Like never before, Shandee felt the blood slamming in her bursting clit. She was beside herself. She had to get somewhere private. “See you soon, Ruzty,” she said, putting every emotion she had into her good-bye smile. “See you,” said Ruzty. Zilka took her to the hotel room. Shandee said good-bye to her and closed the door and took off her clothes. She pulled out Dave. “Oh, Dave, I missed you so much,” she said. “I want to sit on your hand so bad. Can I sit on your hand?” Dave’s fingers wiggled yes. Shandee positioned his hand on the corner of the bed, and she sat down on it and crushed her pussy into his fingers and worked her hips in circles. “Give me a couple of stiff fingers up there, Davie,” she said. She felt them slip up inside her, and whoo that was good! She bounced up and down on Dave’s hand for a while, and then saw a bowl of fruit and said, “Wait, Dave, I want you to hold this orange.” She put a navel orange in his palm and then she lowered herself onto its thick bumpy skin, cool against her opening pussyhole. She circled around the orange for a while—rocked and rolled on it—crushing Dave’s knuckles into the bedspread. Then she pulled a green banana off the fruit bowl. “Dave, please hold this big banana straight up for me.” He did, of course, being a gentleman of an arm, and she admired how curvy and upsticking it was—“a banana cock,” Lila had said of Ruzty. She remembered the sight of Ruzty’s cock getting hard in Lila’s office. “Dave, I want to fuck this green banana so bad,” she said. She pulled her pussy open so that she could see it push in, and Dave’s arm held it steady for her. She felt the unripe fruit drive curvingly deep inside her till she was well and truly socketed.

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

  There’s a nice little Mexican place we go to. And he doesn’t know it, nor should he know it, but when he really gets down to fucking me I’m sometimes thinking of sucking off the Mexican busboys. I’m thinking they’re tied down on tables after the restaurant closes, and they need me to give them handjobs and blowjobs to relieve all the terrible stresses that come with the job of being a busboy, and I can feel their come boiling up the length of their cocks, and I swallow it all.” “Cocks on the boil, eh?” “Yes, often I think about jerking off well-knit young men whose dicks are out.” Betsy looked pointedly at Cardell when she said this. “But he doesn’t know what I’m thinking. Except once I told him and he came so hard afterward. That’s why I thought maybe he’d say yes to letting you watch me.” “But he didn’t.” “No, he didn’t, because he’s a poky old thing. But he does know me better than anyone, and I’ve figured out just how to have a good orgasm with him, which I like.” “I kind of want to bring myself out now for you,” Cardell said. “You want to bring out Mr. Thick Dicky?” Cardell said, “Mm-hm.” “One sec.” Betsy dialed her husband’s number again. “Hon, I’m out on the back deck with Cardell, that’s his name, and I’ve been explaining to him how you and I make love. I know. I know, hon. I know. But he’s gotten a little aroused, the poor boy, as I have, and I wondered if it would be all right if he took out his dick and played with it, just for a moment or two, in a tasteful way, while I continued to tell him about us and what we do, so I thought I should ask you—” She listened for a moment. “Okay, no. I understand. Okay.” She clicked the phone off. “He says no. But!” She got a shrewd expression. “He didn’t say you couldn’t do what you need to do in your bathing suit.” “You mean reach in?” “Precisely. Reach in. Just don’t ‘bring it out.’ ” Cardell reached in, and as he did she came over. “But I’d like to have a peek,” she said. He pulled on his waistband so that she could peer into the depths of his bathing suit. She saw his fist in the green shadows, clutching his swollen packmule. “Oooh,” she said, “I’d like to have a taste of that big hunk of badness. But sadly—it is not to be.” “Why don’t you keep telling me how you and he fool around?

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

  She leaned toward him. “You know that if a man signs his name with one of these,” she whispered, “something interesting happens. When he comes, his come squirts out molten silver.” Cardell was surprised. “Permanently?” “No, for a day or two. I had a friend a while back who showed me.” “Do you have a friend now?” “Well, I have a husband,” she said. “He’s very wonderful and very successful and very jealous. Sometimes we rent a condo at the House of Holes beach, and when we’re there I get a little—ah—urgie-splurgey.” She squeezed his biceps muscle. Cardell thought it was time for a compliment. “Has anyone told you that you look a lot like Marlo Thomas in her prime?” She thanked him. “Buy the gel pen,” she said. “See you later, I hope. I’m Betsy.” Cardell watched her small bottom cheeks shake under the dress as she walked quickly away. He bought the pen and a notebook in a hurry. When he went out to the parking lot, her car was already gone. At the café he got a huge cup of coffee that he didn’t want, and he sat at a table and hauled out the notebook and tore open the packaging around the silver gel pen. He looked at the white page open in front of him, and he looked around the coffee shop. There weren’t any women in dresses. There was an old guy sitting on a couch, staring. He had a Parcheesi board open in front of him. Cardell didn’t want to play Parcheesi, so he bent over the notebook page and wrote “nice, smart, sexy ass.” He tried to sign his name, but the pen went dry halfway through. He unscrewed the top and looked down into the hole at the top of the cartridge. Then he felt a very strange warm feeling in his testicles. His whole body began to lengthen, and suddenly he was flushed right down into the tiny penhole. He swam blindly through silver gel particles for a minute, and when he came out at the end he was standing on a beach in front of some footprints. A sign said: “House of Holes Harbor. Swim at Your Own Risk.” Jessica Has Some Tattoos Removed Jessica went for a walk one day wearing not enough clothes. Why? Nobody knows. She didn’t know. It was summer, that was all, and she looked good and wanted the world to see. She was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts with wide cuffs and some striped sandals. Only the sandals were the right size.

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

  “I personally think all fetishes are just a waste of time. All you need for good porn is a pretty smiley woman who’s having fun, and a dude with a hard dick who isn’t fat.” “And you watch this on your own?” “You can, or sitting next to somebody you’ve not met, or hardly met, or somebody you know well. It’s like a planetarium, except instead of planets and stars there are nipples, or cocks, or gorgeous faces, or flowers opening, or sped-up clouds, or whatever, you get to pick, and you’re surrounded.” Chilli took these varied images in. “And you decided to spend eight hours watching movies of women making themselves come?” “I love homemade come movies. But not pussy close-ups. You have to see the woman’s face when she comes, pussy and face together, or it doesn’t work. I thought about watching some more movies when I got back from your beautiful field yesterday, but my mood was totally different because of talking to you. Also Lila’s got me on a deprivation schedule, which means I can’t masturbate myself as often as I’d like.” “How sad for you.” “Yeah, so for instance right now my cock is dealing with a massive porn overdose. It’s so full of home jizm brew it hurts.” “By ‘your cock,’ of course you mean the cock you got from the Australian photographer guy.” “I think of it as mine, but, yes, it’s his cock I’ve been edging with. Do you edge?” “I don’t know, frankly, do I?” Chilli said. “Edging’s when you do yourself till you almost come and then stop. You keep right on the edge of the tipping point. Go, stop, go, stop. Do you do that?” Chilli gave this some thought. Dave heard her crossing her legs in the dark. “If my husband’s away,” she said, “I’ll drop the kids off with my mom, and I’ll do a shop, and then back home, yeah, I have so many crazy thoughts in my head that it sometimes takes a while to get through them.” “Nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon, edging,” said Dave. “Close, then away, then close, then away, till it really burns, and then finally, whammo bing-bangy ba-doom! Then, blip. Snerp.” “Um, I don’t know how to ask you this, but—” “Yeah?” “Do you think I could feel this unusually large cock of yours that you had grafted on? Just for a second. I don’t want to do anything with it, I just want to touch it for a second.” “Yeah, sure,” said Dave. “It’s not a graft, though. Let me clarify that. It’s an interplasmic dual crotchal transfer. Very different process. I can explain if you want.” “No, that’s okay. Let me just grope a little closer to you. Woops, where are you?” “I’m here. My pants are down now.”

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

  He’s holding on to her. Oh my god he’s stabbing that big thing in—oooh, that’s big. Oh, Ned, if you’ve got a dick somewhere on you, stuff me with it, this is your chance.” Ned leapt up, fumbling with his pants, breathing the clean thin crazy air. “Here it is, baby.” He slid into her with bone-hard assurance and began bucking and slapping against her backside. “Oh, that’s good, Ned,” said Henriette. “Mm.” But it was too much too soon for Ned. “Woops, can’t hold it!” he said. “Sorry! Aaaaaah!” Henriette was still watching. “He’s down again, he’s done, he’s done, looks like a little clear dribble from his cock, poor old mountain zebra, he’s shot his balls, and it’s all over—but she’s still keyed up!” The quarter dropped in Henriette’s binoculars, and she looked up. Her gaze rested on Ned’s down-pointing cock, shiny with juice and come. “I got carried away,” said Ned, panting. Henriette waved at the couple on the nearest crag. “I think they watched us.” “What about you? Can I, er, lick you?” “That’s sweet, Ned, but no thanks. My clitoris is resting right now. I think I might want to give the Pussyboard a try. Will you ride down with me?” “Sure.” They descended in silence. Henriette flung her panties out the gondola’s window and watched them disappear into the clouds. Krock was waiting at the Pussyboard launching area, which was built like the decking at the top of a ski jump. He unwound the Cable of Induhash from her legs and helped her take off her jingly belt. Ned and Krock lifted her so that she could strap herself into the harness, which pulled her thighs apart. “Breezy,” she said. “This will go fast or slow on the cable according to your control,” Krock said, showing her the control stick. “You’ll want to go fairly slowly when you first skid down into the lake because the fluid is warm and it’s heavy, not heavy like molasses but almost creamy.” “Is it toxic?” asked Henriette. “It’s inert,” said Krock. “But still, I wouldn’t drink it if I were you. It’s just there to make the bottom half of your body feel good.” Henriette nodded. “I’m ready. Thanks for the lovely date, Ned. It gave me a new perspective.” “My pleasure,” said Ned. “I’m glad you got to see the zebras.” Krock tightened a final strap on Henriette’s harness. “So—are you ready to feel some deep lake love on your pussy?” he asked. Henriette swallowed and nodded. There was a whir and a clunk and she was airborne, sitting on a small U-shaped fiberglass support, sliding down the long curving cable. She went fairly fast at first, her skirt fluttering.

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

  Luna again descended, as gradually as she could, on the verge of filling his hands with her boobflesh. At first it was just her nipples, then a little bit of the tips of the cones, and then her boobosity began settling in, and they reformed themselves, fattening on the side fill as they gave their titfat to his upturned palms. “Ohhhhhh, I can feel you forming the bowls for me, Luna, the fullness, the brimmingness of your breasts, there’s more of you and more of you, you’re so good with your hot boobfat, I can feel the salad bowls in your beautiful knocker-jug-bosom-boobs, that’s what I need. Mmmmmm. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She could feel his hands trying to clench and grasp and pull from her all the knowledge of her palm-smothering abundance. Then he sighed and nodded, indicating that he was done. “How will you remember them?” she asked. “I have ‘absolute shape’—I never forget any shapes I really care about. Come, unvise me. I’ll walk you out to the peckerwood tree.” “Should I put my pants back on?” “Absolutely not. Never put that bottom away!” The light snuck in sideways through the trees as they walked, and Luna felt that it was a sexual sneaking in, as if the trees were long legs that could be seen beneath the skirt of the leafy canopy. Then she saw a different angle of trees, and they seemed strong and male. Her underpants, she discovered, were wet. They stopped. “This is the pearwood penis tree,” said Jason. He took off his leather apron. They listened. “Hear the fluids in it, the sap?” he said. “Hear the mushrooms growing at the base?” She listened. “Yes.” “Good, cause you’re going to hug it while I fuck you.” “I thought I was going to fuck the tree.” “After me. That’s how we wake the sleeping giant.” He grabbed her ass and pulled her panties down, turning her so that she held the tree. He shoved himself deep into her. It felt sudden and tremendous, and she made a surprised sigh: “Ooof!” Then she began to hear different sounds—a cracking and a ticking as several small buds of bark appeared on the tree trunk about three feet off the ground. The bark split open, showing a pale, smooth, fleshy branch, and then the branch, thus exposed, began to straighen, while the nodular wooden balls remained covered with a finely wrinkled bark. Jason was slamming his hips into her. He thumped into her hard, so that she almost lost her grip on the trunk. “Oh, oh, oh, god, Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! Here it comes, baby, ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaah!” Jerk after jerk of Jason’s artisanal come filled her rejoicing twathole. “Now quick, hop on this new cockbranch.”

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

  “Basically, that’s it,” said Ruzty. “Everybody is trying to keep going, but then they turn out to be broke. The size of what they owe is how rich they are. If they can borrow a billion dollars, that makes them rich. Really they have nothing. But never mind, because I have”—he pulled out a folded sheet of paper and patted it—“an ass-squeezer’s license, signed. This means I can walk up to a girl like you with a big, beautiful ass and tell her I want to squeeze it, and she has to let me.” “Let’s see the license,” said Henriette. Ruzty waved it at her. “Very well. Where?” “My hotel.” They went up to his suite at the Portalino Extended Stay Suites. “How do you want to squeeze it?” Henriette asked. “I want you up on the bed, as soon as possible.” Henriette took off her roomy denim ass pants and arranged herself bending forward on the bed like a person skiing down a slalom course. She felt his hands on her, squeezing their way along her backthighs and finding her lower backcheeks and massaging her deeply, with an interest in all her cores and centers. Then she felt his cock pushing strangely at the seams of her underwear. “No, now, Ruzty,” she said. “You have an ass-squeezer’s license, not a pussy-fucker’s license.” “Wait a second, yes, I do, I do, I just forgot to show it,” Ruzty said, rummaging in his pockets. He had a slightly desperate sound. He waved another folded piece of paper. “I’ve been saving it for this moment.” Henriette looked the paper over. “You just typed this yourself and printed it out, didn’t you?” Ruzty looked chagrined. “Yes.” “Is the ass-squeezer’s license forged as well?” “Yes,” he said. “Daggett said he couldn’t give me a real one because there are too many. I was wrong, I know it now. I went outside the proper channels.” Henriette said, “Ruzty, you very bad boy.” Ruzty said, “I’m sorry.” She looked at his eyes, which traveled to her ass. Then she caught sight of his remarkably solid but curved piece of equipment. She made a tiny hissing sound and said, “Oh, might as well go ahead anyway. Fuck me, horny sailor.” Ruzty’s dick bounced with gladness. Henriette gnawed the sheet and waited. She felt his cock helmet finding the sloppy gates. Then impulsively she turned onto her back. “Take me where I can see you,” she said. He sank over her, and she led him inside, forcing his cock to unbend. She gave him the Cook’s tour of her innerness. His backbone worked lithely; his bottom, swiveling, rose and fell. Henriette straightened her knees, so that her feet were up in the air, running. She laughed because it felt so good, and she said, “Ruzty, you are a swervy-dicked master of the fuck! Don’t stop! Fill my bitchgroove!”

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

  Your bottom has a lot to say to him, by its shape. To him it doesn’t feel cold. It feels as if you are talking to him in a new round soft language.” She pushed the cheeks of Marcela’s bottom together as she said this, and then she released them. Then she pushed her thumbs deep into the muscles. “Wow, that’s a deep massage,” said Marcela, pressing her delta bone into the thin mattress. Lanasha made a growly sort of sound, and then her hands went back to Marcela’s back, and she began kneading the younger woman slowly down each side of her spine. “Tell me a sexy thing a man did to you,” said Marcela. Lanasha’s hands paused for a moment. “One time I was giving a massage to this short man who was very fit,” she said. “He was like a little Egyptian statue. He wanted a happy ending, and when I turned him over his penis had already half filled, and it was almost too big to seem like a penis, until I got used to it. It had a vein that forked off in two directions about halfway up. I took a little dipperful of oil, and I poured it on the underside of it and watched it trickle down, and then I put both my hands around his cock, and I began moving my fists around and together and apart, and he began making an odd, snorting sound and then he said, in a strong accent, ‘I want to push it in you.’ “I said okay, but I showed him how to put his hand around his penis at the base so that he wouldn’t go so far inside me that he would hurt me in my cervix.” Marcela said, “Boy, he must have been big.” “He was really huge, and glorious,” said Lanasha, “but with a delicate, shy face and long eyelashes. That was what was so interesting about him.” “So what did you do, you got up on your knees?” asked Marcela. “Would you mind if I did that?” “Go ahead,” said Lanasha. “I’ll massage you that way.” So Marcela put her bottom up as high as it could go. She felt Lanasha’s strong hands squeezing the oil into her ass muscles. “So I was pretty much just like you are now,” said Lanasha. “Wide-open?” “Yes. And I felt his hands on my hips. I said, ‘Don’t forget to hold the base of your penis because I can’t take all of you.’ Because I’ve been with men sometimes who are big and it’s quite uncomfortable. One of his hands went away from my hips and he found me, and he began to push himself in. It was a combination of wide and deep, and I’ve never felt so full of anything in my life, it was like a complete Thanksgiving dinner of cock. Then I felt his fist coming up against me, and he said, ‘Would you like to have a thumb ride?’

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

  “Now start ragging,” she said. “Rag on yourself as fast as you can. Faster! Faster!” The men were puffing and blowing, their cheeks pink, a fine sheen of strain on their foreheads. “Who’s first?” Rhumpa said. A little man of about forty-five wearing a baseball cap said, “I’m gonna juice big-time!” Rhumpa grabbed the back of his leg and pulled him close. “Come all over these britneys,” she said. “They need it, shoot right here.” She pinched her nipples and pointed them around the crowd. “Here it comes!” the man croaked, and a long whipflick of silly string curved through the sparkling air. Then one very hairy man pulled off Rhumpa’s panties and clapped them to his nose and went, “Aaaah!” He jerked out his putz and splashed on her pussyfloss. “Next! I need more come—more come!” Rhumpa said. Just then Daggett burst in, naked, wild-eyed, with Rhumpa’s former bra twisted around his huge purple erection. “Daggett!” she said. She clapped her hand over her breasts. “I don’t care, I need to see them, I don’t care.” She let her hands fall, and he stared feastingly at her breasts while he slowly unwrapped the straps of her bra from his pulsing hellhound. He waved the other men back. “Take me and fuck me good!” Rhumpa said. She threw her legs open and he slowly socketed himself deep in her famished slutslot. Somewhere alarm bells and buzzers rang, but the lovers fucked for a moment with joyous sweaty abandon, laughing. Then two headless men appeared and pulled Daggett away. “Is this it for your balls, then?” Rhumpa asked. “They’re going back in the tank,” he said, “but it was worth it. It’s only two weeks.” “I’ll go to the opera with you,” Rhumpa called as they dragged Daggett away. When he was gone, she gestured the other men back. “More come, more come!” she said. “Jerk it out! Ice my cake, dickboys! I want to feel like a breakfast pastry!” [image "decoration" file=image_rsrc2SW.jpg] Wade Learns about the Cloth of Ka-Chiang [image "decoration" file=image_rsrc2SX.jpg] Wade’s vesicles were jumping, and he felt sunny inside. He wanted to be near a woman he didn’t know, but he felt a little shy, so he called up the House of Holes and said, “Hi, this is Wade, and I’d like to be able to be friendly with a woman.” Wade was transferred to Lila, who said, “Honey, why don’t you come on by?” Wade said, “Because I don’t know how.” “Do you have a penis, Wade?” Wade said he did. “Then grab hold of it.” Wade grabbed hold of it. Lila said, “Now make it hard and stare it down. Is it hard yet?” Wade said, “No, it shrank way down while I was making this call.” Lila said, “Well, you’re not going to get anywhere without a dependable boner.” Wade said, “I realize that. Okay, here it goes. It’s hard now.”

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

  Koizumi saw her and smiled. “Would you like to give it a few turns?” “Can I?” “Just apply steady pressure while you turn the crank—not too hard.” Koizumi put her hands on Marcela’s hands and showed her how to hold the pommel and the handle of the drill. Marcela leaned and turned the drill and it ground into the wooden woman. A long curl of wood peeled up and fell away. “It’s rather straightforwardly erotic, isn’t it?” said Marcela. “Are you her, in this case, or are you the drill?” “Both, neither, I don’t know,” said Koizumi. She raised her hand. “That’s probably deep enough.” Marcela pulled the drill out, and Koizumi bent and blew away the sawdust. Then she took a rag with some linseed oil on it and pushed the rag into the hole with her pinkie and worked it around. “Do you want to try oiling the hole, too?” she asked. “Sure.” Marcela moved her pinkie finger in the wooden woman’s new hole and felt a strange tingling clench deep in her bottom. “When I push the rag I feel my muscles tighten,” she said. “Is that normal?” “Which muscles?” Marcela patted her behind. “These. The back ones.” “Yes,” said Koizumi, solemnly, “that happens to me, too.” “Oof, I’m all confused,” said Marcela in a small voice. “I feel like I want to fuck a football team.” “Put your finger in the hole for a moment and wait, and you will be taken to a place where you can be made love to any way you like, by anyone you choose,” said Koizumi. “Okay.” Marcela pushed with her finger and waited. She felt herself turning sparkly and growing narrower. Her finger, and then her hand, and then her arm flowed into the carven woman’s asswood, and then she found herself swimming deep into the wooden woman’s body. She smelled the smells of linseed oil and cherry bark. Things went dark for a moment. When she became solid again, she was facedown on a wooden rolling table with a soft, thin mattress, moving down a dimly lit hall. Two nice-looking naked men with towels around their necks were pushing the table by its railing. To the first naked man, Marcela said, “Where is this?” “This is the House of Holes, where you can do whatever you want.” “Whatever I want? For instance, I can just reach out and hold your penis right now if I want?” “Bono, wait up,” the boy called. “She wants to hold my peeny wanger.” He paused and stood with his hips canted forward, his peeny wanger close to her hand. “Go ahead.”

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

  It was difficult to see at this distance, with the colors gone all blue and pale, but she thought she saw the woman’s lips relax and a gush of sperm flow back down over her fingers. Ned made a little noise. “What did you think?” he asked. “Very nice,” she said. “Did you like to see her sucking on his bone?” Ned rubbed her shoulder in a friendly way. “Uh, sure. Have you got another quarter? Let’s find out what else is up here at the roof of the world.” They scanned the horizon. “Another couple!” said Ned excitedly. “Oh, boy. He’s doing her real nice. Mmmm-yeah, her boobs are jumping around. Jesus mama.” He shifted the direction of his scope. “And there’s a AR-24 Pornsucker ship!” He pointed excitedly. “See it? Out on a mission, sucking that pornstarch. You can tell it’s an AR-24 Recon/Pornsucker because of the red tips on its wings. That’s the giveaway. You can always tell.” “Mm,” said Henriette. She wasn’t listening. She’d swiveled her scope and was looking intently off to the south. “Mountain zebras,” she said, in a small intense voice. “A herd. Two of them are getting ready to mate. How on earth did they get so high? Oh, they are such nimble climbers.” “Where?” Ned was panning unsuccessfully. “Way way off, about halfway down a crag, on a little ledge. See them?” Henriette pointed, then hunched to see more. “No, I’m not seeing them,” said Ned. “Damnation!” “Keep hunting, you’ll find them. The female is holding her head down. Ooh, she’s backing up. The male’s penis has dropped. It’s big but it’s hanging. It’s practically dragging on the ground. I don’t see how—ooh, her pussy is literally steaming. And his balls are huge and luscious.” “I’m still not seeing it,” said Ned. “She wants it. She’s switching her tail around. She’s a hot stripy-assed zebra bitch in heat, and she wants him now. Mmm, so natural. She’s not ashamed. She just aims her big swollen privates toward him and lifts her tail and winks her anus. She says, Hey zebra boy, have a look at this.” “Where? God! Where? Shit. You want some wine?” “Thanks.” Henriette took a sip and touched the cord wrapped around her legs. She felt zigzags of black-and-white zebra energy pouring into the flesh of her thighs. She looked over at Ned, who’d gone back to scanning the horizon anxiously for sex. She flipped up her skirt and pulled down her panties to let the air cool her pussylips. Ned missed it. Henriette squinted through the scope again, watching the zebras. “They’re so beautiful together,” she said. “Oh, boy, his penis has flipped up now, my god, is it hard, and big. Big black zebra cock. Now he’s up on her!

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

  “Well, I’m glad that it worked out for you,” she said. He took a long, deep breath and laughed and shook his head. “I’m Bosco. I want to paint you,” he said, handing her a card. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to paint anyone more than you. What’s your name?” She told him. “Well, Jessica, I hope you’ll come to my studio sometime and take off your clothes and pose for me.” She thanked him, and then she hesitated. There was some-thing in his eyes of pleading and of hope that she hadn’t seen in a man before. “Where can I see your paintings?” she asked. He was in a group show in a gallery not far away, he said. “Do you want to go there now? That way you can see if you like my paintings.” “Well, sure, okay,” said Jessica. They walked up the street. Bosco asked Jessica what she was doing in school and whether she’d ever done any modeling before. She said she’d posed for photographers but never for a painter. “It’s very different,” Bosco said. “Photographers take lots and lots of pictures. Painters look at you for a long, long time and make one picture. It’s more like giving birth. Not that I know what that’s like.” “Me neither,” she said. “All in due time,” he said. They turned into a small track-lit gallery. There was a table with some crackers on it. Most of the dip and the carrots and celery had been eaten. She took a cracker and cracked it in her hand. “Which are yours?” she asked. He touched her back, directing her to a wall with five paintings. They were all of women sitting on chairs, wearing pants but not wearing anything over their breasts. Some sat relaxedly, some seemed tense. He’d caught something unusual in their expressions, which were sad and human. “I like their faces,” Jessica said. “Thanks, will you excuse me for a moment? My underpants are wet with my come, and I’m just going to take them off and throw them out.” Bosco went into the back and reemerged in a few minutes. Jessica had stood standing, looking at the women. She sensed someone looking at her, and when she turned she saw that he was staring once again. “Do you offer a modeling fee?” she asked, in order to preserve her dignity. “Name it,” he said. “When I modeled for the photographer, he paid me two hundred dollars.” He shook his head. “I’ll sell the painting for eight thousand, of which the gallery will take fifty percent. So I will gross four thousand dollars. Nothing that I paint would exist without your beauty. How about two thousand for you, two thousand for me?” She thought. “That’s generous. But sure, yes.” He nodded. “Good. Now?” She took a moment to reflect. “I’m kind of sweaty from walking,” she said.

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

  So Luna went into Room 3 and closed the door. The upright tanning booth, with its rounded blue door, filled most of the room. There was a stool with a towel and a pair of goggles on it, and a clothes hook on the doorjamb. The walls were a deep red, and taped to one wall was a gross-out picture of an eye with a tumor in the tear duct, there to scare people into using eye protection. Next to the tumor picture was a large poster of a minister with a Bible in his hand, wearing a full robe, but exceedingly bronzed. The poster quoted him as saying that going tanning helped him be a better minister. Luna stripped down in front of the eye tumor and the tanned minister. Three eyes stared at her as she slathered on the Tanlord Bronzer. She circled her nipples with it and they began speaking to her in an odd kind of Braille. With her goggles on, she pressed the on button and went into the warm blue privacy of the booth. It was loud, because there was a powerful fan over her head, and it lifted her hair up. She felt like Botticelli’s Venus. She was standing nakedly there, with both her nipples on stun, and she heard a low voice behind her—almost a metallic voice, but confiding—and she felt some localized warmth on her shoulder. She said, “Who are you?” “I’m Leo, the Lord of Tan,” the voice said. She looked back, and there standing close behind her was an elongated kind of luminous being, made up of long ultraviolet lightbulbs. He resembled a balloon sculpture, except that he was almost impossible to look at because he was so blindingly bright. “Why are you here in the booth with me?” she asked. “I’m giving you an irresistible allover tan,” Leo the Tan Lord said, “and when I’ve given you an allover tan, I’m going to take you to the House of Holes, so that you can go with your new friend Chuck to an intimate concert of Russian piano music.” “This House of Holes,” she said. “Is it safe?” “They scan you seventeen ways when you’re going in. Chuck is a recruiter, and he likes you, so you’re getting a scholarship. Oop, it’s rather close quarters in here. I’m afraid you’ve given me a large fluorescence.” Luna, glancing, couldn’t help but admire the blinding watt-age of Leo’s long, warm blue bulbs. She felt she needed to be enveloped in his endless warmth. So she closed her eyes and let Leo do what he did so well. The fan was wonderfully loud, and Leo’s humming bulbs felt good on her skin, and then he murmured, “Open yourself for me, let me take you to the House of Holes.” She felt a long steady pressure, and then he lit her up inside.

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

  Lanasha smiled. “What you do is you send your whole self back to your bottom. Your bottom has a lot to say to him, by its shape. To him it doesn’t feel cold. It feels as if you are talking to him in a new round soft language.” She pushed the cheeks of Marcela’s bottom together as she said this, and then she released them. Then she pushed her thumbs deep into the muscles. “Wow, that’s a deep massage,” said Marcela, pressing her delta bone into the thin mattress. Lanasha made a growly sort of sound, and then her hands went back to Marcela’s back, and she began kneading the younger woman slowly down each side of her spine. “Tell me a sexy thing a man did to you,” said Marcela. Lanasha’s hands paused for a moment. “One time I was giving a massage to this short man who was very fit,” she said. “He was like a little Egyptian statue. He wanted a happy ending, and when I turned him over his penis had already half filled, and it was almost too big to seem like a penis, until I got used to it. It had a vein that forked off in two directions about halfway up. I took a little dipperful of oil, and I poured it on the underside of it and watched it trickle down, and then I put both my hands around his cock, and I began moving my fists around and together and apart, and he began making an odd, snorting sound and then he said, in a strong accent, ‘I want to push it in you.’ “I said okay, but I showed him how to put his hand around his penis at the base so that he wouldn’t go so far inside me that he would hurt me in my cervix.” Marcela said, “Boy, he must have been big.” “He was really huge, and glorious,” said Lanasha, “but with a delicate, shy face and long eyelashes. That was what was so interesting about him.” “So what did you do, you got up on your knees?” asked Marcela. “Would you mind if I did that?” “Go ahead,” said Lanasha. “I’ll massage you that way.” So Marcela put her bottom up as high as it could go. She felt Lanasha’s strong hands squeezing the oil into her ass muscles. “So I was pretty much just like you are now,” said Lanasha. “Wide-open?”

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

  Cardell looked out at the ocean. “I wish I had a cold iced tea right now.” Betsy’s voice was very small. “I have cold Snapple in my condo, if you want to come back.” So they went back to her condo where there was a tall vase filled with carved canes and a Chinese ceramic pig on a side table, its head resting on a red pillow. There were also many jars of shells and beach glass. Betsy pulled the sliding door half open so that they could still hear the sound of the sea. “My husband is at his office,” she said after a moment. “I—I can call him. Should I?” “Absolutely, yes, give him a call.” She flipped out her cell phone. “Honey,” she said, “I’ve met a nice-looking young man on the beach who says he wants to watch me come.” She paused. “I know. I know. Okay. I know. Okay.” She held the phone away from her ear. Cardell raised his eyebrows questioningly. “He’s kind of angry,” she whispered. Then she listened some more to the telephone. “He wants to talk to you.” Cardell took the phone. “Hello, sir?” There was a strong voice in his ear. “I don’t know who you are, but stay away from my wife. Leave the condo immediately.” “I will leave the condo, but I would really like to see her come first, and I know that’s a problem for you, but I also know she wants to see my mandingo. I’m just going to shuck my boxers off, and my mandingo will be sticking out, and she’ll get a good look at it. She wants to, I know it. Do you say yes?” “No, you will not bring out any such mandingo!” the husband choked. “You will absolutely do nothing of the sort! You are out of line!” He hung up. Cardell handed the phone back to Betsy, shaking his head. “Oh, he’s such an old poke-in-the-dough,” she said. “Are you disappointed?” He nodded. “You poor thing, you wanted to see me come, didn’t you?” He nodded again. She looked at him appraisingly. “And then you’d come, wouldn’t you? You probably have a cock that you’d jerk off big-time, wouldn’t you? I know you just love jerking off that proud nasty cock.” “That I do,” he said. “Hard as a ship’s biscuit, but fresher.” She had an idea. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Let’s go out on the back deck and I’ll pretend to have sex with my husband, and I’ll tell you all about it, and you’ll watch me pretending. Will that work?” “That sounds like a good fallback,” Cardell said.

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

  The hand put her down and smacked the water hard. Another drench of sexual splatterment went over her. It made her tingle everywhere. She felt she was in touch with a giant collaborative moan. Climbing the five steps of a metal ladder, she stood on a tall platform that technicians used when they needed to open or close a hydraulic valve that led to a smaller treatment tank. She began singing the Benassi Brothers, swinging her ass: “I love men, money, power, and I love my sex.” She could see the monster turning on its legs, trying clumsily to keep time. On an impulse, she unclamped and unsealed the front of her wetsuit and danced with her breasts on display, her nipples high and pointy in unpuzzled skyward erections. Almost immediately, many monster hands took hold of many penises, and there was a general convulsion of orgasmic fluid release. The monster sat in a puddle of its own secretions. Then it revived. Rhumpa spoke: “I will give you good loving if you grow a head.” There was silence, and then a bulb formed at the top of the fleshy confusion. There was a huge sucking sound, and a head popped into place. It was a normal head, male, with a mouth and a nose and two eyes, and it blinked at her. “Can you hear me now?” she voiced. Out of the mouth came a strange amphibious croak: “Aaaa-oooowwwawaooo.” “Take a moment to organize your thoughts,” she said. “You are built from other people’s orgasms, and yet you seem to have a soul.” “Not much of a soul, but it’s there,” said the pornmonster. “And do you wish to be freed from the tank?” “Yes, I do.” “Do you think you would live a normal life if you were free?” “No, not normal,” said the pornmonster. “I have way too many sex organs for that. But I could lead a better life. I would like to help in some way. My name is Friggley.” In the control room, Harry watched and took notes, squeezing his crotch from time to time. The creature looked like a hedge ball with frondy things hanging off it. It moved rapidly but shufflingly forward, a tumorousness of overstimulated desire. Harry observed as it surrounded Rhumpa and slid her wetsuit completely off. One after another of the penises found and sounded her cervix. Rhumpa seemed, oddly, to be enjoying it—it was a gangbang from a single source. When the fleshly storm had passed, she leapt onto its back and grabbed hold of what looked like two scrotums. “Harry, open the main hatch, I’ve got my new friend Friggley by the balls, and I’m going to take him to the Handjob Festival.”