The Henry Miller Award: May by Various



To buy Snakes and Earrings, click here



To buy Snakes and Earrings, click here

"You wet?"
    I nodded slightly, and Shiba-san picked me up and sat me on the bed. Almost instinctively, I spread my legs and felt a slight tension sweep through my body. I've been with sadists before, and you never know what they're going to do. I've had enemas, which were fine, and I've played around with toys. I've also got no qualms about spanking or anal. What I don't want to see, however, is blood. I remember once I let a guy put a small glass bottle in me, which he then tried to smash with a hammer. And there'd even been some real weirdos that got a kick out of poking me with needles.
I could feel that my wrists and palms were damp, and I was getting goose bumps on my shoulders and upper arms, but I felt a genuine sense of relief as it slowly became obvious that Shiba-san had no intention of incorporating anything else. He stuck two fingers up inside me and pistoned them in and out a few times before extracting them and wiping them against my thigh, like he'd touched something dirty. I stole a look at his expression, and when I did, I felt myself getting even wetter still.
    "Put it in me," I pleaded.
    He took his two still-wet fingers he'd wiped against my thigh, stuck them in my mouth, and moved them around.
    "Taste gross?"
    I nodded and he pulled them out, plugged them back in my pussy, then returned them to my mouth . . .
    "Please, just put it in," I begged.
    "Shut up!" he said sharply, then grabbed my hair, grinding my head down against the pillow. His arm reached around me roughly and he pulled my hips up high. Then he spat on my vagina, rammed his fingers in again, moved them around roughly, then slammed his cock into me. Right from the beginning, he pounded me deep and hard, my whispered gasps echoing through the musty, clammy air, and in no time I found myself crying real tears — something I do easily when it feels really good. Gradually I was getting there, I could sense the feeling in me building. As he continued to pound and slap against me, he loosened the grip of the belt around my wrists. Then, when my hands were free, he quickly pulled out his cock and I felt the trickle of a tear run from the corner of my eye. Then he grabbed me roughly again, pulled me on top, grabbed an ass cheek in each hand with a clawlike grip, and dragged my whole body back and forth. By now, my entire vagina was numb.
    "I want to see more tears," he barked at me, instantly causing more tears to well up in my eyes.
    "I'm coming," I murmured, rocking my hips back and forth violently with new urgency.
    After I'd come, I could hardly move. But Shiba-san simply pushed me over, climbed on top, then slammed himself into me in a hard, unforgiving rhythm -- grabbing my hair, choking me, and smiling all the while from the cruel pleasure it gave him. Then he said, "Here it comes," just the way he had when he pierced my tongue, shoving his cock in deep, pulling out, then climbing up my body to dump his cum in my mouth. I felt a strange combination of relief and excitement, like I'd been released from Hell, but exiled from Heaven at the same time. click to close



To buy The Bitch Posse, click here



To buy The Bitch Posse, click here

Puck takes the bottle and the glasses from the table, leading her upstairs, the shiny crisp hardwood floors, the saturation of color on the walls, here plum, here beige, here green, and the bedroom's a sea blue, perfect. He sets down the wine and grabs her ass in both hands, kissing her hard. As he leans her over the bed, he's peeling her blouse off her, swaying her, weighing her down until she falls onto the mattress. He seizes her wrists and presses them together over her head, landing a bite on her neck, an odd sort of bite that lingers long after his teeth leave her skin. She laughs, fights her wrists free and unhooks her bra. He envelops her breasts with his hands, skimming over them in intricate patterns he must have learned from somewhere because it's absolutely perfect. Even when he's moved his fingers away he's still touching her, phantom caresses that linger, intensify, bloom with heat. "Oh . . . " she breathes. He presses his lips to her nipples, and so strange, the kisses radiate outward from the spots he's touched until warmth has spread over each of her breasts."
    "I told you we'd have fun . . . "
    He slides off her pants, and the cool air on her skin shocks her, sending a ping of sensation through her whole body. Then he pulls off his own jeans and suggests a blow job, which is a little disappointing since he's not offering to reciprocate, but that's okay, it'll still be fun.
    She gives him an extra nice one, slow until he wants it fast, with lots of lips and tongue. Heat radiates from the swirl of hair blossoming from his crotch, and she's sweating in a jungle; rain forest insects buzz in the shadows. As she's speeding up and slamming down on him again and again and again, her nose starts to run, and it's the most annoying thing you could imagine, this tiny drop clinging to her nostril, damn, fuck, damn, what to do, it's not like you can sniff it back when you're giving a blow job, so she just let's the drop fall onto him, but he doesn't seem to care, pushing harder and faster and groaning, and she wraps her tongue around him and sucks even harder and more urgently, and everything doesn't matter at all anymore because it's all a haze of perceptions that are way too magnified, the inside of her mouth for example feels like someone's scrubbed it with a wire brush, and hurry up, Puck, hurry up, this is getting boring, come on, I don't have many more tricks left, and finally he comes with a shudder and whispers, "Aah, Wren, perfect."
    She swallows and runs a hand over her mouth. "You're welcome." She spreads her legs, and he licks her belly and thighs and his tongue skates across her pussy, yes, oh please! She raises her hips and moans, closing her eyes as desire rips holes in her flesh. His mouth's leaving tracers of sensation everywhere and this is going to be so goddamn great, the best ever, yes, yes, God, yes! His tongue swirls everywhere, even places where it's not, she can't wait, she's in a dream, she's going to cry it's so good, oh this won't take long at all, not at all . . . click to close



To buy Wasted Beauty, click here



To buy Wasted Beauty, click here

A long orange tongue slides from the mouth of the bottle and swirls into the gushing bathwater. Naked and spent, Rick tracks the creep of the burgeoning foam, frowning as the water rises. He places himself on the edge of the tub and considers the liquid heat. Cecilia Bartoli's "Chant D'Amour" echoes through the cottage.
    Disengaged from the usual bone-gnawing worry, Rick's mind floats freely and aimlessly. Usually his thoughts crunch into each other like subway cars at rush hour. Usually, his thoughts live inside of one another, like those nested Russian dolls, each more intensely painted with anxiety than the last. Now yawning gaps have grown between them, and in those gaps is nothing. Simply a feeling. And the feeling is all about Rena. A kind of high. It's a place he can settle himself with, return to again and again, savor.
    The night before, he had driven up to the Cape and neglected to eat. In the morning he had one egg, no lunch, and salad for dinner. Swam all day. Now he checks out his reflection in the mirror. Looking very tan and thin. Face uncharacteristically lean, eyes crystalline. In the two weeks since I've met her, I've changed.
    Does Laura notice? The sex was great this morning, under the covers while the kids watched cartoons, but she didn’t seem to notice. Spending all this time with Rena is making me miss Laura more. Obviously the girl is getting me wound up. I'm becoming a love junkie. My heart hurts. My heart is an itch I can't scratch.
    Rick spins the roaring taps shut and the only sound is the crackle of bubbles expiring. He carefully lowers himself into the water, letting the heat cook his ass, his balls, his thighs. He dips his shoulders and the tension flares through his muscles. Why am I so tense?
    The bubbles caress his face and the heat flows into his limbs, healing him but making him a bit jumpy, too. The water's too hot. I'm a cored apple baking in the oven. I'm dead. No. Not dead at all. I'm alive. I haven’t been this alive in a long time, have I? . . .
    Rick floats in the hot water weightless, no thoughts, nothing to tie him down to earth. Everything has dissolved. Life has dissolved. Everything is gone, except for Rena's spirit, infusing him . . .
    Rick pinches his penis. Wags it. The ur-bath toy, the dick. Something I used to do when I was little. Let the little guy's helmet come up from under the water. The submarine conning tower breaking up through the foam. All sorts of games you can play with your dick when you're small. Of course at six you have no idea what kind of trouble playing with this little monster is going to cause. The little popgun. The little soldier. Fucking troublemaker.
    Still quiet outside. Rick wags his penis again. Kicks up a little wave. Flip-flop. Deceptively playful. Enjoys all the attention. "You like that fella?" Never talked to my dick before. Never named it, either. Don’t really think of it as a part of me or not a part of me. One thing for sure, you and I are in this together, pal. And let's face it, if I didn’t have you, my whole life wouldn’t have happened. A person can be missing a finger, a leg, an eye, a person can still fuck around. But if you don’t have a dick you can't fall in love, can't have kids, can't cheat on your wife. Well, maybe you can fall in love. Hopefully I'll never find out the answer to that one.
    "It's just you and me, guy." And of course Rena's pussy and Rena. That's what this is all about, isn't it? Pussy on the radar screen. Going on a mission. Playing the sensitive helpful uncle, the good listener, get her interested, then reel her in. Right? As if I know what I'm doing…
    Rick massages his penis. Firmer now, just thinking about Rena makes me hard. It's a different kind of erection, isn’t it? I don’t consciously think of being horny, it just shows up. Like something straight from my viscera. No, not viscera. Soul. I don’t even have to visualize Rena. Just open my heart and I go hard.
    The heat is making me sleepy. There she is. There are her eyes. I'm nuzzling her neck, touching her soft breasts. Pushing into her. She's digging her heels into my back, pulling me into her, harder and harder. Her mouth... That perfume she wears. She's here with me right now. She's in the room, she's squatting down on top of me, her gentle hands, bringing my face up to hers, she's kissing me. Kissing me...
    "Oh shit!" Rick clutches himself and curls into a fetal position, the hot water filling his mouth, his ears. When he opens his eyes everything is defused, shimmering with orgasm. The twisted white worms of his cum float in the hot water. He can't help but think: denatured protein. He moans, "God."
    Rick recalls seeing a building once that had been set with hundreds of dynamite charges so that when they exploded the building collapsed in on itself. That's me. Imploded. There are no words, now, only sensation and color and Rena. Rick lets himself slip down into the foam. I could drown this way. Boiled alive. Why not? I've lost my mind, it makes no difference. click to close



To buy The Story of the Night, click here



To buy The Story of the Night, click here

I could hardly keep my hands off Pablo in the street. In the hotel room, I realized that the alcohol had had the same effect on him. We stripped without saying anything. He pulled back the blankets on the bed beside the wall. We got into bed together and began to make love. I touched him and held him as though I would never get the chance again. I was so excited that I moved out of myself into a place where there was only his body, the hardness of his frame, the silky beauty of his skin, the softness of his tongue, his frantic breathing against mine, everything about him perfect beyond belief.
    We lay together after we came and then we fell asleep and did not wake until night. It was cold in the room; I was thirsty and my head throbbed. Pablo was still in a deep sleep.… I turned in bed and he cupped his body against mine and we lay together quietly.
    Slowly, desire began to stir again in both of us. We did not move. His hands were warm on my chest. I could feel his dick hard against me. After a while I turned and faced him, and we began to make love again. He whispered that he had condoms and some cream in his bag. He asked me if I wanted him to get it. I hesitated and then I said that I did. We had not done this before. I lay on my stomach in the dark while he rolled on the condom and opened the tube of cream. The cream was cold. At first he lay on top of me. I turned my face around so that we could kiss. He gently moved my legs apart and then slowly began to enter. I was tense, and at first I thought that I would not be able to take it. He pulled out and slowly came in again and pushed his dick inside much further than before. He held it there and he did not move. He put his hands under my arms and then gripped my shoulders until I began to relax, until his being inside me gave me pleasure and almost no pain.
    After he came he remained still. He asked me if I was all right and I said that I was. All my depression had gone. I was happy with him. As he withdrew he held the condom in place and then he took it off and left it on the bedside table. I still had an erection, was still excited. He knelt over me and started to suck me off, and when I began to come and he took his mouth away the feeling of pure pleasure was stronger than anything I had ever experienced. I cried out and held on to him and then he lay down beside me and pulled the blankets over us and we were calm again. click to close

OVERALL RATING: 6.85



To buy Whores on the Hill, click here



To buy Whores on the Hill, click here

"Get over here. Get — get closer," Devin said, holding the boiled wool blanket between his thumb and forefinger like a tent. I rolled my body over into his. "W-why can't I get you close enough?"
    It was like he was dreaming, his hands everywhere, at my neck, thumbing my breastbone, brushing my stomach, my legs, knotting my hair. His tongue soft as fruit.
    He was like a fire, a heat rash, all across my body.
    "Wait." I pushed back, panting. "Hold on." My heart was pounding. Devin took my hand and brushed my fingers across his dusty-haired aureoles while I tried to speak.
    "Listen," I said. "Wait," I said. "I can't, you know, I've never." I put my face to his chest, pressed my nose against the turtleplate of his breastbone and spoke into it, "Orgasms." I hated the word, I hated it, saying it. "I just don't. I can't. You know?"
    I wanted to die, this shame. Like a defective girl, malfunctioning. My face hurt. My dirty little secret, all that pretending.
    "W-well, okay," he said, his hands trailing their orbits around my body again. "It's okay." He slid down under the sheets and put his tongue inside my belly button. "W-what did you think? I'd kick you out of bed?"
    I laughed, my stomach shaking. The drop ceiling in Devin's bedroom was covered with posters, like a dentist's office, only it was rock bands and old movie posters, Jim Morrison, bare chested and druggie eyed. Right above my head, there was an orchid. PHALAENOPSIS, it said underneath it, in purple cursive script.
    "H-hold on," Devin said. He looked up at me, that shock of dirty blond hair like a girl, those olive eyes with yellow flecks. Just looking at him, I caught my breath. "Let's try something different here," he said.
    And we were moving. His skin in my mouth, biting his lips, nibbling, I made my way around his face, his neck, his ears. He flipped me onto my back, he held onto my hips with his thumbs. It was a new thing for me, to give in to it, to close my eyes, to just let things happen, when there were no words for it, when there should be no words for it. He was rough with his hands, tugging and turning me over. Then generous, luxurious. It was like this for a long time. Everything was caught and carried and swept away in the mouth of desire.
    When I was exhausted and worn to it, his love, he moved over me, placing his knees on either side of my hips, raising me, lightly, by the fingertips, he slid into me, like easing his body into water. He rolled me over onto my stomach, my side. He touched me. He sighed and something moved in his throat, a soft clicking sound. The orchid bloomed above me, the petals fat as sex, beautiful and pink. It started in my legs, first, a burning, crashing wave. I though that I might die.
    It swept me up, this pleasure, and exploded across my body.
    The noise of the city drifted in under the windows after, cars honking, people calling to each other, after. From the falafel joint on the corner, Arabian music carried on the air like onions frying, a beautiful sound, voices wailing and bells ringing. You could get lost in it, that easy. click to close


Lost in the Forest by Sue Miller	7.1
Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami	6.5
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer	6.0
Towelhead by Alicia Erian	5.3
Lighthousekeeping by Jeanette Winterson	4.4
View All Henry Miller Awards


Firewife by Tinling Choong	8.73
The IHOP Papers by Ali Liebegott	7.92
The Virgin of Flames by Chris Abani	6.25
Fangland by John Marks	6.17
The Weight of Numbers by Simon Ings	3.67
View All Henry Miller Awards

Bookslut
Guardian Books
Galley Cat
The Elegant Variation
New York Review of Books
The Paris Review
Moby Lives
Book Lust
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BoldType
DazeReader
Publishers Marketplace
Erotica-Readers


Try by Lily Burana	9.41
Firewife by Tinling Choong	8.72
Sex, Blood and Rock 'N' Roll by Kimberly Warner-Cohen	8.49
The IHOP Papers by Ali Liebegott	8.25
Fortunate Son by Walter Mosley	8.00


Firewife by Tinling Choong	9.18
Try by Lily Burana	8.68
Sex, Blood and Rock 'N' Roll by Kimberly Warner-Cohen	7.76
One Mississippi by Mark Childress	7.5
Cellophane by Marie Arana	7.43


Firewife by Tin	8.72
Try by Lily Burana	8.50
My Girlfriend by Stephen Elliott	7.93
Sex, Blood and Rock 'N' Roll by Kimberly Warner-Cohen	7.63
Fortunate Son by Walter Mosley	7.32


Firewife by Tinling Choong	8.87
Try by Lily Burana	8.86
Sex, Blood and Rock 'N' Roll by Kimberly Warner-Cohen	7.96
The IHOP Papers by Ali Liebegott	7.92
Fortunate Son by Walter Mosley	7.55