House of Holes

Marcela Admires Koizumi’s Sculpture

Marcela, an art critic, was in the sculpture garden. Koi-zumi, the well-known Japanese artist, was mounting one of her newest wooden sculptures onto its base. The sculpture was of a woman resting on all fours — large thighed and stylized, with a wide bottom and a moon face. She was carved out of black wood with yellow streaks.

Marcela wore a boatneck shirt and white Bermuda shorts. She brushed her hair from her face, watching Koizumi bolt both of the wooden woman’s knees to her pedestal. Then the sculptress pulled out a big manual drill with a kink in it where the handle was.

Marcela opened her notebook. “And what are you going to do with that?” she asked.

Koizumi, a slight woman with a small mouth, said, “Once I get the sculptures mounted, I do the last step, which is to drill this auger bit into their asses.”

“Can I watch?”

Koizumi almost said no. She preferred to work in private. But then, struck by Marcela’s fresh, curious face and generous hips, she changed her mind. She took a metal poker and tapped it lightly into the wooden seam of the sculpted woman’s bottom. Then she removed it and fitted the tip of the auger into the tiny guide hole she had made.

“Now I will drill her asshole,” Koizumi said simply.

She pressed against the handle and began slowly turning the crank of the hand drill. Curls of wood came twirling up off the spirals of the bit.

Marcela walked around to look at the wooden woman’s face. “She looks like she’s enjoying that pressure,” she said.

“She likes to get her ass drilled,” said Koizumi. “All my women do. It’s the very last thing I do with each sculpture.”

Marcela looked around the sculpture garden, and, sure enough, each of the four Koizumi women had a small hole drilled in her bottom. One had a drill bit left in place.

Marcela looked from the moon face of the sculpture to the thin, intent face of the sculptress.

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.”

She rose on one elbow and held the cock like the handle of a trowel and pulled slowly on it. She felt it thicken and was filled with longings in various directions.

“What’s your name?” the nice-looking young man asked, gasping slightly.

Marcela decided to make a name up. “My name is Lucky Eyes,” she said. She pointed his cock up and then kissed its tip and filled her mouth once with it.

“Oh, please don’t do that cause I’ll shoot for sure in two seconds. I’m real full of come cause your tits make me hot.”

Marcela lay down and breathed. “Where are we going?”

“Into the massage room.”

“Oh. Who will be massaging me?”

“Lanasha, the head masseuse, while Bono and I watch in the other room.” He pointed to a one-way mirror. “Then we’re supposed to take you to the groanrooms.”

“Oh.”

In the massage room there were Japanese screens and a pile of folded cloths, and bowls of water and liquids. “Is it okay to leave my bra on?” said Marcela.

“Lanasha will take care of everything,” said the boy. Then he shyly squeezed her and said, “Thank you for holding me. It felt really good. I’m Ross.” Some trance music came on, and Marcela lay on her stomach feeling very peaceful, still in her bra, with a towel covering her butt and throbbing cuntspot. Soon she heard the sound of a sliding paper door.

Lanasha, a large Filipina woman in a red dress, came in and sat in a chair next to her table.

“I am here to give you a teaching massage,” Lanasha said. “What would you most like to learn?”

“Everything, I think,” said Marcela. “I’ve not been to a sex resort before. Last week I let a man hold my breasts, but besides that I’ve been pretty darned nonsexual lately. It’s been almost a year. I’ve started to worry about it, actually.”

Lanasha unhooked Marcela’s bra and tickled her back with the loose ends of it. Then she began making odd paddling motions over her shoulder blades and down the small of her back. Once, she lifted the towel. “You have a very lovely bottom — all men will like it,” the masseuse said.

“Thank you.”

Lanasha squirted oil on Marcela’s bottom.

“Do you know what the Gumuz boys sing in the Sudan?” she said.

“No, what?”

“They sing, ‘My girl’s got big boobies and a big soft ass; she is the shapeliest woman in the world.’ ”

“Catchy song,” said Marcela. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you enjoy having a man behind you? Because I miss seeing his face make those nice twisty expressions that I see men make in dirty movies.”

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?”

“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?’ I said sure, because I was ready to say yes to anything. And then every time he drove his dick in, he let his thumb push, at my bungee hole. Not in, just pressure here, pushing, moving, like this.”

“Oofy. Feels like a meteor shower. Did you like it?”

“I had three little tiny orgasms and then suddenly I had this huge shuddering orgasm that was bigger than anything I’d had before. It was like the god of pleasure had punched me in the pussy.”

Marcela whimpered and pulled the hair out of her face. “Mmm, I’m almost ready to be fucked now,” she said.

“Do you want me to squeeze the Magic Kentucky Lime fruit on your pussy? It will make you feel extreme cravings for stiff cock.”

“Is it safe?”

Lanasha said it was. “Some people call it the Purple Cometwat, but its real name is Magic Kentucky Lime.”

“Go right ahead,” said Marcela.

Lanasha took a large yellow-and-green fruit and cut it in half on the side table. It didn’t look anything like a lime to Marcela. Lanasha gently helped Marcela turn over so that she lay face up. She gently massaged Marcela’s stomach and around her hip bones, and then she drew her knees up, and she said, “Hold your labia open.” Marcela held herself open and Lanasha pressed the fruit between her hands.

Cold drops fell on Marcela’s little thumper bean and trickled down. And then Lanasha took the whole half of the fruit, and she pushed it down over Marcela’s mound so that the pulp of it was mashed into her folds. Marcela felt an incredible almost burning warmth flow back into her body and down her legs.

“Ooooh,” Marcela groaned. “I don’t just want to be full of a cock, I also want to have a cock. I want a cock of my own. Can you arrange that for me?”

“Ah, no,” said Lanasha. “That’s called a crotchal transfer. You’ll have to ask Lila about that.”

“Oh, okay. Well, can you put a trickle of the Kentucky Lime on my bottom, too?”

“Yes,” said Lanasha, “but if I do, I warn you, you’re going to want to have something in there.”

“That’s fine.” So Lanasha held Marcela’s knees together and pushed her legs back over her stomach. Then Marcela could feel the cut edges of the Kentucky Lime on the tender skin around her bottom hole. “I’m going to squeeze the fruit now, don’t freak,” said Lanasha.

She frowned and Marcela felt her bottom flooded with juice. Her asshole opened blindly for a moment and gulped some of it. She could feel the burning warmth going far inside her.

“How do you feel now?” asked Lanasha.

Marcela didn’t speak for a moment. She cleared her throat. Then she said, “How do I feel? Lanasha, frankly I need two yellow school buses of dick to drive right through me. Each filled with a whole soccer team.”

Lanasha made a satisfied chuckle. “I thought you said foot-ball,” she said.

“Okay, one football team, one soccer team.”

Lanasha rang a bell. “I think she’s ready for you, Ross,” she called.

Ross and Bono walked in. “Hot show,” said Ross. “I loved when your titties were hanging.”

Marcela began to turn slowly, smiling, and put her ass up. “You liked it when I was like this?”

“Yeah, just like that!”

Bono was standing to the side, staring at Marcela while Lanasha gently stroked his pecker. “Ross, sweetheart,” said Marcela, “where’s that nice young peeny wanger of yours? Is it still full of gobs of nice hot come?”

Ross said nothing, but Marcela watched Bono’s eyes follow something happening around back of her. Then Marcela felt two hands on her hips and a heavy, knobby pressure moving around the folds of her pussy, seeking a way in. She arched her back and suddenly, because she was so wet, a stiff immensity went deep and filled her up. She made a surprised groan and answered instinctively by slapping her ass back hard against Ross’s hips, then she pulled partway off his cock and let him slam into her again — once, twice, thrice, four times, and then she heard Ross say, in a fierce whisper, “Shit, baby, I’m coming!” She felt the thickness twitch hard inside her. “I’m sorry! Your pussy was just too hot for me.”

“That’s okay, honey, I like that you had to come right away — that’s supersexy.” Marcela turned and smiled at him reassuringly. He gave her an embarrassed shrug and grinned.

Lanasha spoke. “I think Bono’s got something all ready for you,” she said.

“Bono? You got something for me? My ass is still up. La-nasha, can you help this nice boy find his way? I’m still open for business.”

Ross slapped hands with Bono. Marcela felt Lanasha’s strong practiced hands pulling her asscheeks open, and then she felt a middle finger twiddle purposefully in her ass. And then, finally, Bono’s length of badness stuffed her gasping twat full of warm, brown dick muscle. Bono had more control. He said little, but he developed an oval rhythm, angling and slamming his smooth musclemeat in and out. He slammed fourteen strokes, and then he said, “It’s gonna pop soon!”

“Wait, stop, not quite yet,” she said, freezing. “I want to frig myself off while you’re still hard in me.”

“Okay, but if you move the tiniest bit I’ll come for sure.”

Marcela held three fingers together and circled and swizzled over her clit hood, while Lanasha’s finger darted and dithered in her ass. As she began to come, her cunt muscles tried to close around Bono’s motionless blood-pulsing truncheon. “Now!” she said. Bono pulled out almost to the helmet and slide-slammed back into her slippery salope, then out, then back in, and once more, and then five hard short strokes. “UHLLLLLLLL!” he said, followed by lots of snuffling. She felt a cold spray of sweat droplets on her back, and, inside, she again felt the long warm twitch of liberated jizm. “Oh, that’s it, fill me up with all that goodness.”

She lay panting on the massage table. Lanasha rubbed the backs of her legs with a cool washcloth.