“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. It is made of asswood.”
She washed it off and dried it with a towel and handed it to him. The sculpture was indeed in the shape of a woman, with a wide face, made of dark polished wood.
“It’s beautiful, I stand corrected,” said Wade.
“I will give it to you. I have others for sale in the HOHMA gift shop. Now I will go. I enjoyed our dream. Good-bye.” She nodded to him.
“Good-bye,” said Wade. “Thank you very much for the sculpture.”
Henriette Surfs the Lake
Henriette was sitting in Lila’s office. The book of men’s faces lay open and unregarded on the glass table next to her chair. Poplars were waving their little leaf shadows on the floor. “I imagine a sensual man,” Henriette said, “strong-jawed, financially secure, who understands my needs and is not threatened by them.”
Lila snorted in disgust and flung a paper clip into a little dish. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, honey,” she said. “Can you please cut the boilerplate?”
Henriette, slightly shocked, thought for a moment. “I guess the truth is I’m sort of bored and scared. I don’t want to go through life alone, obviously. I want a loving partner. I want a little more out of sex. I’ve made some bad choices. When I was with my ex I almost never came, because I can’t come without my vibrator and the sound of it embarrassed me. I always felt I was doing the wrong thing around him.”
“That’s fixable,” said Lila.
“That’s not the real problem. I can find a new guy.”
“Of course you can.”
“The real problem is I’ve used the darn vibrator so much lately that it’s made me numb! Not just numb, but I sometimes get really sharp tingling pains — not good tingles. Angry hurting tingles.”
Lila picked up the phone. “Krock, could you ask Zilka to bring in the Cable of Induhash? The big spool of it, mm-hm.” She smiled at Henriette. “Go on.”
“So, yeah, I think I’ve damaged the nerves. It’s just so hard to reach that delicious point now. I press and press, it’s like my clit is not getting good reception anymore. And honestly, is it worth the effort? And if it isn’t worth it, what is? Making a really nice soufflé, that’s satisfying. Volunteering at the park cleanup, that’s satisfying. But then there is the middle of the night, and my clitoris is just sitting there like a little numb pebble, and I’m full of filthy ideas, and I think, grrrrr!”
Lila stood and paced. She stared out at the horizon, pon-dering. “Now Henriette,” she said finally, “you’re an attractive young woman, with lovely smooth skin, wearing a lovely short skirt.”
“Thank you,” said Henriette, pleased.
“It seems that you have given yourself a tiny case of sleepy clit or even — clitordynia.”
“You mean my clit has died?”
“No, that’s just a fancy way of saying that it hurts you sometimes. So let’s take a look under the hood.”
“You mean right now?”
“Yes, I do.”
Henriette opened her legs and pulled her underpants to the side and showed Lila her clit.
“How utterly precious,” said Lila. There was a knock, and she opened the door for Krock and Zilka. “Take a look at this utterly precious pussy, you two,” she said.
“It’s nice,” said Zilka.
Krock knelt and looked closely. “J’adore these lips,” he said. “So dark, so fleshy.”
“That’s enough, Krock,” said Lila, kneeling too and gently pushing Krock out of the way. “Henriette has been telling me that she’s got numbness and sometimes pain in her tender clitty when she uses a vibrator. She’s much too lovely to be suffering that discomfort.” She leaned toward Henriette’s vulva. “Can I kiss it a little, hon? To get a better diagnosis.”
“Uh — yeah,” said Henriette.
“She did this to me, too, when I told her my clit was stolen,” said Zilka to Henriette. “What kind of vibrator do you use?”
“A Pocket Rocket,” said Henriette. “Tangerine-colored Pocket Rocket. I just bear down, a little to the side, about here, against the sleeve.”
Lila’s mouth made juicy kissing sounds between Henriette’s legs.
“Oof, careful — it does hurt a bit,” said Henriette.
“Pocket Rockets are powerful,” said Zilka. “Also they’re kind of loud. What about getting something with adjustable speeds?”
Lila emerged from between Henriette’s legs. “That’s a yummy lemondrop you have. Tiny but nice. Curiously refreshing. My advice would be to listen to your clit. If it’s hurting, it’s telling you something. Stop with the vibrator altogether for a while. Give those battered nerve endings time to regenerate, collect their wits.”
Henriette nodded.
“And we’re going to help you with a dose of the House of Holes’s healing powers. You need a leg wrap with the Cable of Induhash, and you need the Belt of Jingly Bells, and you may need a squirt of my own titmilk. And you definitely also need a higher vantage. Much higher. You need perspective on your life.” She gestured for Zilka to bring over the Cable of Induhash, which was a spool of soft yellow cord. “Can I ask what you think about when you masturbate? Krock and Zilka are going to wind this special cord around your legs. You can leave your skirt pulled up.”
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.”