Excitement

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)

  A woman got in line behind him. He turned and recognized her from his seminar. “I enjoyed the class,” said the woman, who had a kindly face and dark hair that didn’t quite touch her shoulders. “I liked how few euphemisms you used. You never once said ‘issue.’ ” “Thanks,” Dennis said. “It was a lot of money for just two days, though.” He asked her what kind of nonprofit work she did, and she told him that she was working on a documentary about women in a remote region of Estonia who sing while they masturbate. “We’ve got some great material,” she said. “It’s just a question of editing it down. We’re looking for investors.” “Ah,” said Dennis. “What’s your name?” “Mindy.” Just then two different people at the counter said, “I can help you over here.” Dennis the traveling instructor and Mindy the filmmaker went up and paid their bills and signed, and then they were done. They walked toward the door and stopped for a minute feeling a warm breeze. “Your seminar has given me the confidence to ask for what I want,” said Mindy. She’s smart in a certain way that I really like, thought Dennis. And he thought: I really don’t want to walk out of this lobby without talking to her more. “I hate this feeling,” he said finally. “What feeling?” she asked. “The feeling of having just talked to you for a moment and now you’re leaving.” “Would you enjoy a stick of gum?” Mindy asked. “Sometimes gum can alleviate the pain.” “Yes, I would,” said Dennis. She reached in her purse and pulled out a packet of gum. He unwrapped a stick and began chewing it vigorously. Immediately, yellow and pink stars came twirling in from the edge of his vision. “This is good gum!” he said. “It’s special gum,” she said. “Every time you chew, a woman in Estonia is having a singing orgasm.” “Mmm!” He chewed, his jaw working noisily. “Utterly delicious. I could chew this all day long.” He looked down. “What else have you got in that dark, strange purse of yours?” “In here?” she asked, holding the flap open wider so he could peer into its depths. “Why don’t you take a look?” Dennis leaned, bringing his head close to the compartmented opening. He could smell the leathery smell, and he thought he could also smell more sticks of gum, and her checkbook, and her lipstick. But he didn’t smell any money. “Do you have a tiny address book in there?” he asked. “Yes, I do.” “May I reach in and give a squeeze to your tiny little address book?” “You may.”

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

  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?” The more she insulted the penis, the stiffer it got. It was remarkable. She said, “Do you want to see me brush my hair?” The dick nodded yes. So she got her hairbrush out of her purse. “I have lots of dark hair,” she said, “and this is how I brush it, like this. And I like to toss it around, like this. Do you like it when I pass my hair over you, Chief Cock? Hm?” She said, “I like when men look at my hair and then they go home and they beat off their gnarly dicks thinking about me brushing my hair.” She said, “But you can’t beat off, can you?”

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

  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. 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.

• From Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953)

  Then he, John, felt like a giant who might crumble this city with his anger; he felt like a tyrant who might crush this city beneath his heel; he felt like a long-awaited conqueror at whose feet flowers would be strewn, and before whom multitudes cried, Hosanna! He would be, of all, the mightiest, the most beloved, the Lord’s anointed; and he would live in this shining city which his ancestors had seen with longing from far away. For it was his; the inhabitants of the city had told him it was his; he had but to run down, crying, and they would take him to their hearts and show him wonders his eyes had never seen. And still, on the summit of that hill he paused. He remembered the people he had seen in that city, whose eyes held no love for him. And he thought of their feet so swift and brutal, and the dark grey clothes they wore, and how when they passed they did not see him, or, if they saw him, they smirked. And how their lights, unceasing, crashed on and off above him, and how he was a stranger there. Then he remembered his father and his mother, and all the arms stretched out to hold him back, to save him from this city where, they said, his soul would find perdition. And certainly perdition sucked at the feet of the people who walked there; and cried in the lights, in the gigantic towers; the marks of Satan could be found in the faces of the people who waited at the doors of movie houses; his words were printed on the great movie posters that invited people to sin. It was the roar of the damned that filled Broadway, where motor-cars and buses and the hurrying people disputed every inch with death. Broadway: the way that led to death was broad, and many could be found thereon; but narrow was the way that led to life eternal, and few there were who found it. But he did not long for the narrow way, where all his people walked; where the houses did not rise, piercing, as it seemed, the unchanging clouds, but huddled, flat, ignoble, close to the filthy ground, where the streets and the hallways and the rooms were dark, and where the unconquerable odour was of dust, and sweat, and urine, and home-made gin.

• From Zami: A New Spelling of My Name (1982)

  I heard her warm half-laugh and could almost see the trickle of smoke and the fold between her eyes. “I’ve got something to ask you.” “What is it?” I asked, wondering. “Nope, have to do it in person. I gotta run now.” Two hours later in she walked, bereted and smoking. The apartment was bustling with laughter and the voice of Rosemary Clooney. Hey there , you with the stars in your eyes love never made a fool of you I ran to take her jacket. “It’s so good to see you,” I said. “Yeah? That’s what I came down to find out, because I couldn’t understand that card. What did it mean?” Bea and Lynn and Gloria had dropped by with wine and reefer, and I introduced them to Muriel as I poured her a glass of Chianti. Bea and Lynn were dancing belt-to-belt in the middle room; Muriel, Gloria, and I munched over the cartons of savory chinese food which they had brought with them. At a few minutes to midnight, we switched off the tinny portable phono and turned on the radio to hear the cheer go up in Times Square to greet 1955, even while we were saying how square that all was. Muriel gave me a copy of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings , an underground bestseller which she’d lifted, she said, from a Stamford bookstore. Then we all kissed each other, and had some more wine. We turned the music back on, and people told wild stories about other New Year’s Eves. I had to admit that this was my first New Year’s Eve party ever, but I managed to say it in a way that nobody believed me. By 3:00 A.M., everybody had decided to spend the night. I rolled out Rhea’s double bed in the front room, and opened up my couch in the middle room. There was a place for everyone. I finally had to slip Lynn a sleeping pill from my hoard of doctor’s samples, because she kept insisting she wasn’t sleepy, and I was determined to be the last one awake. It had been a heady evening for me, and even with amphetamine, I was getting sleepy. Muriel had gone to bed in the middle room with all her clothes on, because this was a strange house filled with strange people, she said, drolly, and she was very shy. The other three sacked out in the front room. I had assumed Rhea would stay over at her boyfriend’s house. Unfortunately, Rhea and Art had their big fight that night. At 4:00 A.M., just about the time everyone had finally settled down and I had crawled into my faded green studio couch beside Muriel, just about that time I heard Rhea’s key in the door. I jumped up, instantly awake. Oh shit. Pulling on my shirt, I tiptoed into the kitchen to find my roommate standing forlornly, her bright party dress wrinkled and sad.

• From Zami: A New Spelling of My Name (1982)

  Ginger, don’t forget to leave your house-money on the table.” There was only a hint of triumphant reproach in Cora’s voice. Chinese food was a rare treat. I usually spent the night at Ginger’s house on the Thursdays we got paid. While Ginger put away the dishes her brothers had washed, and made the boys’ lunches for school, I went upstairs to take a quick bath. The morning started early, at 5:00 A.M., when Cora rose to take care of her husband before she went to her job. “And don’t leave that water running in the tub the way you like to, neither!” Cora called out to me from the room she and Charlie shared as I passed by. “You’re not in New York now and water costs money!” Ginger’s room was downstairs at the front of the house with its own entrance. It was rather secluded from the rest of the house, once everyone had retired. By the time Ginger finished taking her shower, I was already in bed. I lay with my eyes closed, wondering if I could pretend to be asleep, and if not, what would be the sophisticated and dykely thing to do. Ginger took much longer than usual preparing herself for bed. She sat at her little desk-table, creaming her legs with Jergen’s lotion and braiding her hair, humming snatches of songs under her breath as she buffed her nails. “If I came home tonight, would you still be my…” “Come on a my house, my house a come on, come on…” “I saw the harbor lights, they only told me we were…” In between anxieties about my anticipated performance, I began to feel the rising excitement of the hill return. It challenged the knot of terror I felt at the thought of Ginger’s unknown expectations, at the thought of sexual confrontation, at the thought of being tried and found wanting. I smelled the little breezes of Cashmere Bouquet powder and Camay soap as Ginger moved her arm back and forth, buffing away. What was taking her so long? It didn’t occur to me that Ginger, despite her show of coolness and bravado, was as nervous as I. After all, this wasn’t just playing around with some hometown kid at the plant. This was actually going to bed with a real live New York City Greenwich Village Bulldagger. “Aren’t you coming to bed,” I asked, finally, a little surprised at the urgency of my voice. “Well, I thought you’d never ask.” With a relieved chuckle, Ginger shed her robe, snapped off the dresser lamp, and bounced into bed beside me.

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

  Shandee’s heart fluttered as she shook hands with the new arrivals: Dune, absurdly handsome in an old suede jacket, with an ironic, off-kilter smile, and Hax, West Indian, keen-eyed and devastatingly white T-shirted, with a broad forehead and long tawny dreadlocks and a light beard. “Hello,” said Hax. “Hey, folks,” Dune said, as he signed the form on the clipboard, after which he took several long seconds to look Shandee over. “You’re pretty, shit. Tight little body on you, too. Look at you! Your mama must be proud.” Then he cocked his head to the side. “Is that somebody’s arm you’ve got tucked away in your lap?” Shandee told the story. “So you’re a little bit in love, that’s sweet,” said Dune. “Makes sense to go for just an arm, though. Forget the head. Men are bullshitters. They’ll always feed you a line.” “Hey, man,” said Hax, turning, “don’t go all loungey on the girl. Relax.” “Loungey? Who are you, shrimp locker?” Hax looked at him. “I’m a masseur.” “Oh ho, a masseur.” “And I remove tattoos as well, manually.” “I’ve got a tattoo on my asscheek that says ‘Remember Sputnik,’ ” Dune said. “I forget why. Can you get rid of it?” “Hey, hey,” said Ruzty, looking nervously from Dune to Hax. “I cannot help you,” said Hax to Dune. “Only women.” Dune snorted, then repented. “Sorry, I’ll be nice,” he said, and he looked back at Shandee. “So can your arm lover hear us chatting?” Whereupon Dave’s arm flipped the bird at him. Dune chuckled and said, “I guess so.” He picked up the copy of Contemporary Crochet and began flipping through it. “Oops, dicks in hammocks,” he said. He handed the magazine to Hax, who grunted and put it down. To be conversational, Shandee asked Hax how he got there. “A fine woman came up to me on the street where I sell my belt buckles,” answered Hax. “She asked me would I like to go to a handjob festival.” “You as well!” said Ruzty. “Me, too,” said Dune. “Smackdown. Longest cumshot wins the prize.” “It’s a cumshot contest at a handjob festival?” said Shandee, puzzled. “Goodness, that’s rather crude.” “Maybe it is crude, or maybe it’s very beautiful for some people to see a healthy man showing all his healthy ways by letting a woman shake her boobies for him and pull out all his jizm,” said Hax. “Five thousand, I could pay off my motorcycle,” said Dune. Shandee stood. “Guys, please look away for a moment, I have to change.” The three men looked politely away while Shandee took off her jeans and pulled on the leg warmers. Then she took off her shirt and put on the men’s shirt, buttoning three of its buttons. “Okay to look now,” she said. “Ta-dah.” “Nice!” said Hax, sitting up. Dune sprawled and smiled, lifting an eyebrow of approval. Ruzty blushed. Dave’s arm drummed his fingers.

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

  Daggett!” A dark-haired man appeared with a heavy bag on his back. “Daggett, we’ve got an emergency overload,” said Lila. “We’re going to have to suck all the bad porn out of Baltimore, Maryland.” “Not Baltimore!” said Daggett. “Yes. Buildings and Grounds says there’s a sentient mass forming in our main settling tank. We need dilution. Take these two fine men to the pornsucker squadron right away. I will brook no delay!” Daggett bowed and complied. “Have fun with that dude’s arm, girls!” called Dune as they left. “That boy is fresh,” said Lila cheerfully. “And now, Zilka, will you please help this lovely young man here, with the flexible thumbs”—she gestured at Ruzty—“to kick off his pants and lie on the massage table. It’s a nice solid table, bamboo.” Shandee, watching out of the corner of her eye, saw Zilka begin to busy herself with removing Ruzty’s wardrobe. She was curious to see Ruzty naked, but she forced herself to look back at Director Lila. Meanwhile, Lila was frowning and squeezing the length of Dave’s arm. Eventually she said, “Shandee, here’s your best course of action. A lot of our armless men end up at the Hall of the Armless Men Who Still Want to Fuck Twat. That’s way across the salt marshes.” “Oh, okay,” said Shandee. “With those legs on you, you’ll have to get yourself a tall pair of waders. They’re sold on O Street, at a little place called Wade for Me. Ask for Angelo, he’s a sweetheart. He’ll measure you all over. But first I’m going to ask you to give us some help right here in Intake. Because we are busy.” “Sure, I’m game,” said Shandee. “You’ve arrived here on what’s called a work-study scholar-ship,” Lila said. “We’ve got dozens of men arriving every day, with their wallets. The rush is on. We scan them for badness when they rematerialize—we’ll find any of nineteen diseases, cough, runny nose, STDs, of course. Is it nineteen, Zilka, or twenty-three now?” “I don’t know,” said Zilka. “At least nineteen diseases, plus any tendency toward thieving, scamming, or violent behavior. Which doesn’t mean some real a-holes don’t get in.” “For instance, what’s his name, Pootie,” said Zilka, folding Ruzty’s pants. “Pootie was awful. So we screen them. And we know that some of these arrivals are nervous and uncertain, as well as extremely good looking, and they need a good friendly penis scrub. That’s what we want help with at the moment. From you.” Ruzty was standing completely naked, his hands crossed over his crotch. “Excuse me?” he said. “Hello?” Lila turned. “Hon, what’s your name, sir?” “Ruzty. I’m from Vermont.” “Well, Ruzty from Vermont, I don’t see how you can have a problem with getting naked for a brief Penis Wash tutorial. We need to show Shandee the way we do it here at the House of Holes—the old-fashioned up-country way. Zilka?”

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

  “Oh, gosh, eight, nine couples. I think our final count was eleven. I said to her, ‘I have never seen this many couples doing it before.’ She said, ‘Me neither, I kind of like it.’ I said, ‘Do you want to go down and be a part of the action?’ And she said, ‘Well—let’s just sit in the glorious sunshine and watch them being wholesome.’ I said, ‘Okay,’ and we watched for about half an hour. We both got very turned on. I was saying things like, ‘Woo, look at them go, look at them just boinking away like the crazy wholesome fuckers they are!’ And eventually we went up to her hotel room and messed around, and it was okay.” “No anal?” “No, should there have been?” “There’s just so much talk about it. Everybody’s supposed to love assfucking, and live for assfucking, and frankly I just don’t.” “No, no anal,” said Pendle. “It was good but I don’t think we’re really soul mates.” “And what after all is a soul mate?” “A soul mate is when you really think someone is great. You really like her a lot. You like when she explains things to you. You love her. That’s a soul mate.” “Oh,” said Trix. “Will you take me to the groanrooms?” They went to a groanroom, and in the darkness of the entry foyer they put on the glowing wrist and ankle bracelets, which were in plastic packets in baskets just outside the door. “Just remember, we can’t talk in here at all, only groan,” said Trix, her hand on the door. “It’s like meditation except it’s more fun.” They went in together and closed the door very quietly. [image "decoration" file=image_rsrc2SW.jpg] Henriette Chooses the Cheekpump [image "decoration" file=image_rsrc2SX.jpg] Since she’d surfed the lake, Henriette had received two invitations to the Masturboats and visited the Hall of the Penises, but she still hadn’t met a man who really attracted her. Lila suggested that she take a walk down the Man Line. Henriette thought that was a good idea. The Man Line was a line of about a hundred single men who stood fully clothed in wedding suits, with numbers pinned to their lapels. She walked down the line, nodding at the men. Then she saw the one. He was smiling, trying to stare straight ahead. He was tall, with wide, even teeth and an easy, careless way of standing. His bow tie dangled. His number was 53. She didn’t say anything to him, but back at the office she told Lila that Number 53 was the one. Lila promptly called up a video of Number 53’s entrance interview. “Do you want to see it?” “Of course,” said Henriette. On the screen, Number 53, slouching in a chair, was asked what type of woman he was interested in. “Honestly?” he said. “Honestly,” said the entrance interviewer, Mischa.

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

  It may be the most important choice you ever make.” “And you’d like to help me choose?” “Very much. But the unbreakable rule is that I can’t ever look at your breasts.” “What—you’re a Deprivo, too?” Daggett hung his head. “Unfortunately, I am, yes.” “You mean that if you see my breasts you’ll be turned to stone?” “No, of course not.” “Then what?” “If I see your breasts,” he said, “they’ll take me away and perform a reversible orchidectomy on me.” “What’s that?” “They remove my balls and put them in storage for a couple of weeks. ” “That’s harsh,” said Rhumpa. “The empty sack?” “Yes, it happened to me once, and it was bad.” “Who takes care of your balls while they’re in storage?” “Aunt Maven has a number of female helpers. They’re called ‘ballkeepers.’ ” Rhumpa took this in. “So how will you help me choose?” “Take a shower, and when you come out I’ll have all the bras arranged on the bed, and then you can try them on, and if we need to we’ll use the Silken Flesh Communicator.” He held up a finger. “But first, of course, I’ll need to see your current bra.” “On me?” He nodded quickly. “You mean, unbutton?” He nodded again, waiting. Rhumpa began unbuttoning her shirt, and to overcome the awkwardness that she felt—along with some excitement, for what woman can avoid feeling a thrill as she unbuttons her shirt in front of an attentive stranger?—she asked Daggett what the Silken Flesh Communicator was. “It’s hard to describe. It works pretty well if you know what you’re doing. You’ll see.” Rhumpa’s shirt slid off her arm onto a chair, and she stood looking at the corner of the room, a little embarrassed, with her palms toward him. “Me in my bra,” she said. Daggett exhaled and slowly sat on the bed, staring. His eyes were large, and they were fixed on her breasts. He began muttering to himself. “Oh, those are so beautiful and generous and so lonesome and shy and so full and soft,” he whispered, almost inaudibly. “Sorry?” Rhumpa said . He made an effort to collect himself. “A fine T-shirt bra,” he murmured. “With a lovely woven starfish pattern. Is it a Luleh brand or is it an Olivia Wallenstein?” He made a brief show of looking into his bag of bras and then gave it up and returned to staring directly at Rhumpa’s titboobs. “I think it’s an Olivia Wallenstein,” she said, smiling. “Make the porno in it. It’s perfect for you. You don’t need any of my bras.” “Ah, but I do. I need to feel like a different person. This old bra is too—autobiographical.” She pulled down on it to seat it better, and then shrugged. Daggett’s breath caught at her motions, and she laughed at her casual power over him. “They’re just breasts,” she said. “I wish they were a little bigger.” “Nonsense,” he said. “You mustn’t say that around here.”

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

  I want you to look me right in the eyes and stroke that big meat wagon for me. Isn’t that a nice dingaling he has, Crackers?” Crackers felt Wade’s cock and smiled and nodded. “Nice,” she said. Wade smiled at her gratefully, then pumped himself. “Oh, yeah, I like when your balls hop like that in the cloth!” said Lila. “You want to see some tit cleavage to keep that dick hard? Here’s some tit cleavage for you. Make those balls jump for me. That’s it.” Wade stared at Lila’s boobs, one and then the other. He was as hard as a flügelhorn by now. He put his thumb on the side of his dick at the base and moved it and watched his dick wang lewdly this way and that. Lila leaned forward. “Pardon me, I want a whiff of that.” She tipped her nose and sniffed as Wade pointed the head of his dick at her face. “Mmmmm, that is a musky little fucker, isn’t it? Makes me want to shake my boobs around for you. Want to see them really shake? Crackers, help me free up one of these bad babies for Wade.” She pulled off her sweater. Underneath was a huge pink-and-white bra. She reached into one of the bra cups and pulled out something shaped a little like a baby seal. Wade had never seen anything so big and so beautiful in his life. “Oh, my, that’s a massive tit!” Wade said. Then Lila and Crackers scooped the other tit out, and Lila leaned forward, and when Wade touched the crinkly skin around her nipple she shivered and said, “My cookies are very sensitive.” She hauled the tits together and pointed them at Wade and shook them. Then she held the shallow jade cup under one of her huge pancake nipples. “Now, my young friend, empty your stones all over this nipple and fill up this cup. I want to see the miracle of your come.” “I don’t know if it’s going to be all that miraculous,” Wade said. “All orgasms are marvels, so shoot that wad for me, darlin’,” said Lila. Wade, pumping slower and squeezing harder, approached the moment of abandonment. He could feel his squirter chamber filling as his sack crinkled and his balls tossed everything they had in the jizz hopper. “Mgonna come, mgonna come,” he whuffled, and then he said, “Nnnnnnggggggggaaaaaaaw!” and there came the fluid catapult. His dickhole pushed open and a doublethick sackshot pitched out onto Lila’s nipple and dripped down into the jade cup. “Ooh, cream my tit, milk that cockmeat all over it, get it all out!” Lila said, frowning and shaking drops of come from her nipple into the cup.

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

  It’s so damn much fun.” “What do you do now?” asked the flaxen girl. “Now I sit here and tell people never to go to the House of Holes.” “You’re kind of a naysayer, you know,” said the flaxen girl. Her curiosity piqued, she opened the door of the dryer and peered in. “See anything?” said Cardell. “Looks pretty ordinary to me,” she said. “It’s not ordinary,” warned King Nynus. The girl climbed in and pushed with her fingertips against the back. Cardell stared at the pockets of her jeans. “I think I found the way,” she called excitedly. Then suddenly she disappeared. “Don’t let it close up, hold it open for me!” said Cardell. He climbed in after her, but when he pushed on the back it didn’t budge. “It’ll be shut for a while now,” said King Nynus. “They never listen.” “Damn,” Cardell whispered. “Don’t worry, you’ll find a way in.” King Nynus pulled a small vial from his pocket. “Let me give you this.” “Thanks, what is it?” “It’s a powerful aphrodisiac. Lila sometimes sprinkles it in the water at the House of Holes. That’s one of her little secrets. It’s made from Prince Bohuslav’s beard. Give a gal a drop or two of that, and powee boom bang.” “Fireworks?” “Oh, heavens, yes. Do you know the story of Prince Bo-huslav’s beard? Surely you must.” “No.” “Then I’ll tell it to you.” The Story of Prince Bohuslav’s Beard Bohuslav was a powerful prince in the country of Bohrania. When he was nineteen, he married a tall comely princess, with pale eyelashes and freckled shoulders, who bore him a son. She had an unusual habit during their lovemaking: At the point of her climax, she would bite hard on his luxuriant braided beard. As a result of this repeated act of passion, Prince Bohu’s beard began to develop a memory. For the most part he ruled with fairness, and he loved his tall pale queen, but every few weeks her perfect beauty and her perfect goodness made him restless, and he became possessed with the need to plunge his purple cameroon into an ugly-but-lovely woman. He liked them plump and awkward and shy and full of jokes, with a gap between their two front teeth. He called them Uniques.

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

  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.” She grabbed it and held it—it was still warm from its accelerated growing. And then she heard the summer wind begin—a warm wind that made a different kind of rustling in the leaves because the leaves were drier now—and the light that snuck in between the boughs and boles was splaying and scattering, half of it reflected off the water, half direct from the setting sun. “Fuck me deep, tall, strong penis tree,” she said. The cock shape grew longer and pushed into her, and then the whole tree seemed to branch into her core and out her arms and legs and lift her far above the earth. “Hold on!” called Jason, as she was swept up on a high bough impaled on old boreal growth. She looked out from her high-splayed vantage, and she said, “I’m a treefucking woman!” Dappled sunlight shone and emptied itself onto her. She squeezed her Kegeling love muscle around the smooth, thickened branch within, and when the wind came up again all the leaves twittered and shook. The tree itself shuddered: It was having some kind of orgasm. The new growth of penisbranches fell off. Panting and quivering, Luna climbed down. Jason hugged her, then gathered the fallen branches. “I’ll polish and stain these tomorrow,” he said. “Dendro dildos?” “Yes, inspired by you.” “Can I come back and get one?” “Please do,” said Jason. “I’ll make a salad for you.” [image "decoration" file=image_rsrc2SW.jpg] Henriette Goes for a Walk

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

  She completes the crotchal circuit.” “That sounds like it would be kind of fun,” said Mindy. “Oh, but doing tweenella is hard work, too,” said Dune. “You can only do it a few times because the sex plasma travels right through your arms and your chest and your heart. It can actually stop your heart for a moment, to have that much sex plasma traveling through you. They had a piece of hotness named Rianne doing it. They brought in a large stone bowl, and they poured some glowing blue liquid into it—looked like coolant—and Lila told Rianne to soak her hands in the bowl to get them all ready and sensitized for the transfer. She told me to sit in one chair and Marcie in another chair. ” “You were naked?” Dune nodded. “From the waist down, with our feet in stirrups. And then Lila hauls out one of her breasts.” “Uh-oh!” “They are not small, let me tell you. She squirts some of her special magic titty milk on my balls, and she has Marcie hold open her pussy so that she can dribble some right in there, too. Well, that started to work almost immediately, started to burn, like my cock had had a shot of Everclear, and I started to feel that I had this special bond with Marcela. I said, ‘Hey, Marcie, are you sure you’re okay with the switch? I warn you, my dick can be a handful.’ And she said, ‘I can handle your dick fine. The real question is whether you can keep up with my cuntatious clit.’ So we were having our fun, and then Lila tells Rianne, ‘Okay, now take your hands out of the bowl and get to work. Grab their crotches and lean into them hard.’ Rianne’s sitting cross-legged between us, like a yoga master, and she grabs our crotches, which completes the circuit, and, foong, this ungodly flow of energy comes pouring through her arms, and at first I started to get a huge boner on, and I thought, Well this is nice. Then Rianne’s whole body started shaking, her tits are bopping around, but she kept her hands holding our crotches. And then I started to feel Marcie’s pussy flowing into me.” “Wow, go on.” Mindy checked the viewfinder, making turning gestures in the air to keep him talking. “I felt my own cock and balls starting to melt and flow, and I felt this channel widening inside me. My boner was still hard as ever, but it was getting smaller and smaller, and Marcie starts going, ‘Oh, my word, I feel my clitoris growing like a weed.’

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

  Because what I’ve learned is that when I play with my cuntpussy, I need something inside or I feel empty.” Mindy brought out a long silver microphone. “I don’t think you want to put this piece of equipment inside you,” she said. “It’s a four-hundred-dollar shotgun mike. A Sennheiser.” “Mindy, that’s just how much microphone I need to give you a good in-depth cuntpussy interview.” “Okay,” said Mindy. Dune fished out a condom from his wallet and unrolled it over the end of the microphone. “Now shove it in me and I’ll show you something.” Mindy eased the condom-covered microphone into Dune’s pussyhole. “Oooh, that’s it, while I whale on this clit,” said Dune. “You like the way my clit sticks straight up like a tiny little dick? It’s amazing you can get this much feeling out of a little pink bean of a thing, but you can, if you work at it. Now let go of the microphone for a second. I’ll show you my muscles. I’ve been exercising them.” Dune clenched himself and said, “Mmm, mmmm, mmmm.” The microphone end wigwagged obscenely. “Nice muscles,” said Mindy. “Please go on. What tips did you give Marcela?” “I said to her, ‘Sometimes I pull on the nutsack a little and shake the whole package to make it aware of the fact that it’s going to be getting hard soon.’ She said, ‘Like this?’ And she shook my cock, or her cock, whoever’s cock it was, and I said, ‘Yeah, like that.’ Then I said, ‘Marcie, while you do that I wonder if you’d mind if I squeezed on your titties.’ And she was okay with that, so I squeezed her tits my special way, up from below, and a really amazing thing happened, which was that her dick, my own dick, started to lean out into space, and I realized I was making her dick hard by squeezing her tits, and ooooh, shit, that was some nice madness.”

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

  As Shandee came closer to the dock and the tent, she heard Lila’s loudspeakered voice announcing the handjob cumshot contest. She paused to watch a little of the proceedings. The contestants stood on a raised dais dressed in crotchless tuxedos, their arms tied at the wrists behind their backs, while Lila, pacing with her cordless microphone and her wild hair, urged on the strokers, who knelt in position beside or behind the cocks they stroked. Women who wanted to be jizz-splashed stood in the shallows of the lake wearing waders with blue butterflies painted on them, holding their mouths open, making beckoning gestures. “Okay, we’re in the final ejaculatory launch window,” Lila was saying to the cheering audience. “Our contestants must shoot hot sauce within the next ninety seconds. Lift your tops and show them your titties, my friends, floof out your hair, stick out your tongues, and let’s get some nice moneyshots out of these bad beautiful cocks and these gorgeous sexy hardworking cockstrokers. Because, boy, are they at it! That’s it, my lovely strokers, jack the big dicks off, work them, bring that cream to market, don’t hold back, jack them harder, that’s it, Trix, honey, jack Pendle off, come on, Jessica, closer, closer, really fast now, that’s it, wank those hunky spunk pipes!” There were male groans of amplified pleasure. “And here goes Pendle first, oooh, lovingly stroked by the delightful Trix—well climaxed, you two, and let’s hear it for the Heftyshot bathing suit that’s down around Pendle’s ankles!” Applause, followed by another moan and more airborne come-drops flying through the air. “And now our Kathy’s got Ned launching—there it goes! And Hax, oh, my goodness, three big squirting jizz bombs from Hax, our tattoo master, smoothly cockstroked by Jessica—thank you, Hax and Jessica, with your beautiful smiles! And now comes Wade and Crackers, what a team—look at her fist fly on that eye-popping pink dick—ah, out it tosses!” More applause and cheering, and several women who’d been splashed jumped up and down flashing peace signs. Then there was a trumpeting noise. “And, oh dear, there goes Friggley, our pornmonster. Yeek, I don’t even know what that was, pumped off by Rhumpa, the Pearloiner, Donna, and Polly, all together. Very good effort, women—not at all disgusting. Let’s hear it for these resourceful jerkoff artists!” Lila turned and held a hand out. “And now—ah!—a tremendous sideways splash of semen from handsome Ruzty’s banana dick. Has he, yes, he’s taken the lead with a long arching slider. Ruzty’s ahead now. But now, last but never least, here’s Marcela, our dazzling heavy-dicked ladyboy, stroked by Dune. She’s new to having a penis, and it’s a biggie, and she has obviously taken to it in a major way. But she’s almost out of time. Will she get there? Will she shoot? She’s working her hips, she’s almost—now”—suddenly an enormous “Graaaawh!” was ripped from Marcela’s throat—“blowing a—whoa, shit!—a glorious spunkbomb of Elmer’s goo from that prodigious transplasmic dick of hers! My gravy! Stroked by Dune, like the master cockjerking bad boy you are, Dune. Mwah, blow you both a kiss. An absolutely amazing cumshot by Marcela and Dune!” Zilka gave Lila a piece of paper with some numbers on it. “And the official results are in: I declare Marcela and Dune the winners of the Sherry Cobbler Handjob and Massive Cumshot Contest. But all you jizzblasters deserve a prize.” More cheering, whistles.

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

  He let some of his weight begin to drive it in. He heard a buzzing. She’d brought a little vibrator that she’d clipped to her finger. She began a mewing kind of chant. “Moon . . . moon . . . moon,” she said slowly. “It’s big, it’s very huge, ouch, ah, slowly, drive it in. Moon. My kundalini body likes to be fucked in the ass,” she said. Wade began to do hip jerks that weren’t entirely voluntary—they happened as his cock went deeper and deeper with each pull and push. Finally, he felt the cool pillows of her bottom on his hips. “Now please continue to fuck in and out of my asshole,” Koizumi said, “and when I come you will feel the ring tighten very hard and that is when you must come and put your seed in my bowel, so that I can push out your souvenir.” Wade pulled almost all the way out so that he could feel the blunt, strong rim of her sphincter clenched on his underdick. Koizumi was in a dream world, and Wade could hear her vibration going rum, rum, rum and her little panting sounds. She said Japanese or perhaps Sanskrit words he didn’t understand. Then he felt a sudden distinct spasm of tightness from her anus, followed by a catlike mew of orgasm. It was so primitive and pure and in a strange way mystical that his comesack clenched once, twice, three times, and he could feel the come shudders zithering down into her body. She collapsed and he lay on top of her, smiling. Her asshole tightened one last time and pushed Wade’s softening cock out of it . “Ah, a good experience,” she said. “Now we must wait. I am going to have a bath.” “I’ll run it for you,” said Wade. He rinsed off his cock, which was surprisingly clean, and then ran her a warm bath. She came in holding her stomach. “I can feel it growing in me,” she said. She got in the water and held Wade’s hand. After a moment’s time, she reached down and poked into herself. Then her face contorted, and her upper lip pushed out, and she drooled a little. She practically broke his fingerbones in her grip. In the water was a large brown object. She slumped back for a moment, resting. “That hurt very, very much, even more than your cock hurt,” she said. “But I will recover.” “I think you may have just crapped the bathtub,” said Wade. She looked up. “No, I did not ‘crap.’ That is incorrect. You will see. This is one of my sculptures.

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

  A small tussle ensued, which Friggley easily won by clasping the Pearloiner in several of its wank-strong arms. “Don’t let her go!” said Rhumpa. She seized the precious clitty jar, remounted Friggley, and the curious trio lurched toward Lila’s office. Shandee Goes to the Festiva l S handee got up late and wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She walked through the Cockstorm Room blindfolded and held about seventy stiff and semi-stiff cocks. Then she washed her hands and sat for a while in a darkroom talking to a nice couple who ran a vegetarian restaurant. She went outside and had a sherry cobbler at the Sherry Cobbler and Farewell Festival. It was a fine end-of-summer day; the Garden of the Wholesome Delightful Fuckers was crowded with celebrants, and many brightly painted pedal-powered Masturboats were out on the White Lake. Luna and Chuck churned by, circling each other. There were screams and splashes from the pussysurfers. As Shandee came closer to the dock and the tent, she heard Lila’s loudspeakered voice announcing the handjob cumshot contest. She paused to watch a little of the proceedings. The contestants stood on a raised dais dressed in crotchless tuxedos, their arms tied at the wrists behind their backs, while Lila, pacing with her cordless microphone and her wild hair, urged on the strokers, who knelt in position beside or behind the cocks they stroked. Women who wanted to be jizz-splashed stood in the shallows of the lake wearing waders with blue butterflies painted on them, holding their mouths open, making beckoning gestures. “Okay, we’re in the final ejaculatory launch window,” Lila was saying to the cheering audience. “Our contestants must shoot hot sauce within the next ninety seconds. Lift your tops and show them your titties, my friends, floof out your hair, stick out your tongues, and let’s get some nice moneyshots out of these bad beautiful cocks and these gorgeous sexy hardworking cockstrokers. Because, boy, are they at it! That’s it, my lovely strokers, jack the big dicks off, work them, bring that cream to market, don’t hold back, jack them harder, that’s it, Trix, honey, jack Pendle off, come on, Jessica, closer, closer, really fast now, that’s it, wank those hunky spunk pipes! ” There were male groans of amplified pleasure. “And here goes Pendle first, oooh, lovingly stroked by the delightful Trix—well climaxed, you two, and let’s hear it for the Heftyshot bathing suit that’s down around Pendle’s ankles!” Applause, followed by another moan and more airborne come-drops flying through the air. “And now our Kathy’s got Ned launching—there it goes! And Hax, oh, my goodness, three big squirting jizz bombs from Hax, our tattoo master, smoothly cockstroked by Jessica—thank you, Hax and Jessica, with your beautiful smiles! And now comes Wade and Crackers, what a team—look at her fist fly on that eye-popping pink dick—ah, out it tosses!” More applause and cheering, and several women who’d been splashed jumped up and down flashing peace signs.

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

  Basically I love to listen to people making out. That’s why I don’t understand about cumshots, frankly. Not that it’s bad for you to wear a Heftyshot. But seeing a man squirt out into the air is much less exciting to me than the idea of a man shooting inside me and filling me up with wonderful hot streams of doodle-goo.” Pendle gave her an eager smile. “Just the sounds of people just—just doing the happy humperdinkle, eh? Just doing it and loving it. Hooooooo.” “Exactly.” Trix sat forward politely. “So what about you, have you been having any fun here?” “No fun at all,” said Pendle. He plucked an aspen leaf. “Well, a little. I haven’t been here that long. Lila asked me to be a nipplerider, and I shrank down and rode her nipple for a bit, but I wasn’t good at it. The best time I had was when I went out with this woman for lunch on the terrace, overlooking the Garden of the Wholesome Delightful Fuckers. We were eating melon and blueberries and looking down, and there were all these wholesome fuckers having sex in among the palm trees and the bushes. It was exciting. They really take extra care with the grounds here—the grass is so green and the paths are so carefully tended. I like the landscaping.” “How many couples could you see?” “Oh, gosh, eight, nine couples. I think our final count was eleven. I said to her, ‘I have never seen this many couples doing it before.’ She said, ‘Me neither, I kind of like it.’ I said, ‘Do you want to go down and be a part of the action?’ And she said, ‘Well—let’s just sit in the glorious sunshine and watch them being wholesome.’ I said, ‘Okay,’ and we watched for about half an hour. We both got very turned on. I was saying things like, ‘Woo, look at them go, look at them just boinking away like the crazy wholesome fuckers they are!’ And eventually we went up to her hotel room and messed around, and it was okay.” “No anal?” “No, should there have been?” “There’s just so much talk about it. Everybody’s supposed to love assfucking, and live for assfucking, and frankly I just don’t.” “No, no anal,” said Pendle. “It was good but I don’t think we’re really soul mates.” “And what after all is a soul mate?” “A soul mate is when you really think someone is great. You really like her a lot. You like when she explains things to you.

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

  Several of them had started to do a little elongational leaning-forward sort of movement. “I think they like us!” said Polly. The penises were in fact becoming visibly semi-erect at the sound of voices. Golly, Polly thought, I had no idea that my simple presence in a room could do that. It was kind of interesting and exciting, but also a little sad, because those penises had no clue what Polly, Donna, and Saucie were all about as women—what they believed in, what their plans were. Near one corner, Polly came to an empty hole. She tried to peek in, but she couldn’t see anything. “What’s up?” she said into the hole. “Are you a little reserved today?” There was silence. Then she said, “I can wait.” She looked back over her shoulder and saw Saucie kneeling on the opposite wall. Polly suspected that Saucie was in front of her ex’s penis, but it wasn’t easy to keep track. Donna was really getting into it—she was kneeling on her cushion with both hands on a wall and she was passing her face and hair all over a large, attractive petard. Polly turned back to her empty hole and she said, “Can you tell me something about yourself?” Suddenly a tennis ball appeared in the opening. At least she thought it was a tennis ball. When it popped through and she caught it, she felt how heavy it was, and then she knew it was the kind of ball they use in real tennis, or royal tennis, the game Henry the Eighth played. “So you enjoy the sport of kings?” she said. “The old jeu de paume ?” And then the end of a tennis racket came through the hole. She looked at the handle. It was very worn. He had really used that racket. She held it for a second and said, “Nice racket.” Then the handle disappeared, and a bunch of purple turnips came through the hole and dangled there, held by their green tops. Polly squeezed them and she said, “I bet you could get some good blood out of these roots, you crazy fucked-up vegetarian.” 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.