The Henry Miller Awards

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This month: chub chasers, clown sex and the very first orgasm ever. And soon to come: Hooksexup's second annual Henry Miller Award grand-prize winner, to be selected by you. Stay tuned!

From Piercing
by Ryu Murakami
(Penguin)

OVERALL RATING: 5.528



Buy Piercing here



Buy Piercing here

Kawashima stripped, dimmed the lights and lay face-down on top of the bedspread. The woman sat on the side of the bed and lightly ran her fingernails over his back and buttocks and hamstrings, tracing leisurely circles on the surface of his skin. He felt like a patient being pampered by a nurse. As she helped ease him over on his back, the woman was telling him about the man she lived with, explaining that he was the one who'd bought her the fur half-coat. She placed a box of tissues next to her on the bed and rubbed oil into her left palm, then began stroking his already-erect penis. He lifted his head from the pillow and asked if she wasn't going to undress as well. Without pausing the motion of her hand, she told him it would cost an extra ten thousand. "I'll pay it," he said, and she wiped her hand with a tissue and reminded him that he mustn't touch her, and wriggled out of her clothing.

Wanting to get a better look at her soft belly and the marks left by the elastic of her pantyhose, he switched on the bedside lamp. The woman made no attempt to conceal her body. It was a body that stirred nostalgic feelings in him: skin your fingers could sink into; breasts with visible veins and thighs that jiggled with the slightest movement; the pathos of pubic hair; the cracked, yellowed nail of a big toe. He'd once been so accustomed to this sort of body that when he first slept with Yoko the firmness of her flesh actually felt strange to him. Yoko was now twenty-nine and had given birth to a child, but when you touched her neck or arm or ass, the flesh still pressed back. Looking at the supposedly thirty-eight-year-old ass pressed against the bedspread, Kawashima thought: There's something non-threatening about skin like this. Soft as a spongecake left over from Christmas; skin that yielded to your touch rather than resisting defiantly. It was as if the very cells were conscious of their age and had ceased to assert themselves.

He was drinking this body in with his eyes when he came. The woman wiped him off with a hot, wet towel. click to close

From The Average American Male
by Chad Kultgen
(Harper Perennial)

OVERALL RATING: 4.728



Buy The Average American Male here



Buy The Average American Male here

She says, "Just like that," with her hand still on my cock, but not as intent on jerking me off.

I finger her for a while listening to her moan and feeling her hand on my cock until I feel her pull away. I've gotten enough head to know that as she starts kissing me on the neck and then on the chest that her mouth's headed for my dick.

A few seconds later I'm not disappointed as she has one hand on my balls and her mouth on my cock. It's a pretty good blowjob. Not quite the best I've ever had, but definitely good. I stop wondering if this is going to be a precursor to fucking when I realize I'm about to cum. I reach down and squeeze her shoulders to give her fair warning, but she keeps sucking and right as I cum she squeezes my nuts a little, which is a new experience and not unenjoyable, then swallows the entire load I shoot in her mouth with a little giggle. This is more than pleasantly surprising. It confirms my hopes that Alyna is a girl who not only genuinely enjoys sucking cock, but also fully enjoys all aspects of the act. She keeps sucking my cock for a minute or so after I've shot my load, which is also a new experience for me that I find much more enjoyable than the nut squeeze.

When she finishes she sprawls back up and lies next to me on her on her back, rubbing my chest and kissing me on the neck in a way that lets me know she's ready for her turn.

I spread her legs and bury my face in her cunt, which is easily the best-looking pussy I've ever seen. It's well-trimmed and neat with smallish lips and a decent taste. I flick my tongue at her clit for a few seconds before really going to work and putting a few fingers in her as I eat her out. After twenty or thirty seconds of this, she's kind of writhing around and moaning with hands on my head pulling my face deeper into her pussy. She accidentally pulls a little too hard once and hits my nose against her pubic bone, which hurts a little, but not enough to stop me from doing my work.

Once she gets completely worked up and she's about to cum, she pushes me away, rolls over on her stomach, gets on all fours with her ass in the air and her legs spread so her pussy's kind of open and sticking out.

She says, "I want to cum like this."

I've only seen a guy eat a girl out from behind in a porno movie, but I have nothing against it as I spread Alyna's ass from behind, which I'm dumbfounded by when I look at how perfect it is again. I get off the bed slightly so my face is at her ass level and pull her back so she's still on all fours at the edge of the bed as I lick her cunt from the back.

She keeps backing into my face as I'm eating her out, which causes my nose to actually touch her asshole. I'm surprised to find that it smells good, kind of like pears or some kind of berry. I wonder if she uses scented toilet paper or actually sprays some kind of body spray in her asshole on a regular basis, or maybe she just thought that at some point tonight she'd wind up with my nose in her ass so she used the spray, based on an educated guess.

Her nice-smelling asshole makes me less apprehensive about really cutting loose, and a few times I notice my tongue getting a stray lick in on the asshole itself, which she seems to genuinely enjoy. This makes me think that at some point I could possibly fuck her in the ass.

My neck starts to hurt from the weird angle my head's suspended at but her perfect ass in my face and her escalated moaning make me want to finish her off like this. So I continue for a few minutes more, ignoring the burning pain.

Right after one of her loudest moans she says, "Spank me."

Holy shit. I have spanked girls I've fucked in the past and some have even liked it. But none have demanded it of me. I hit one of her ass cheeks.

She says, "Harder."

I hit her harder.

She says, "Again."

I get in about seven or eight solid slaps before she cums like a ton of bricks, shudders a little, and then collapses in a heap on her bed. She rolls over on her back and I lie down next to her.

She says, "That was great."

"Yeah, it was."

I'm kind of curious as to why we didn't fuck, but more than curious I'm refreshed by the immensely satisfying and enthusiastic blowjob she delivered and her clearly expressed and unique preference for being eaten out.

Just before we both fall asleep I wonder if Alyna will fall in love with me. click to close

From Radiant Days
by Michael Fitzgerald
(Shoemaker & Hoard)

OVERALL RATING: 7.387



Buy Radiant Days here



Buy Radiant Days here

I sat down on the corner of the bed, moving towards her. "Honey," I said, putting my hand on her leg, "this is ridiculous. Hurting you is so 'not me.' So against what I'm for. Seriously, I think I'm in love with you. I want to be with you so fucking bad. I want to be together. I want to be your boyfriend."

"Men," she grumbled.

I crumbled toward her, almost rolling over, full of grief but getting my head closer to her crotch. My hand and arm pushing up her leg. My elbow on her knee. My hand on her thigh. Kind of not, but all the while leaning toward her crotch. Shooting for tension. I wanted the control that regular, plain old fucking has never given me. Your tongue on her mons Venus has ten times the power of your stupid meat in any of her holes. Once your mouth is hovering above her, it's over. And then once that thought was up there, I couldn't get it out of my mind: heroin, German morphine and licking her. It needed to happen, had to. It would all be great if I could get her to come. I pictured her arched. Eyes closed. Me looking up through her pubic hairs, able to see an immediate facial reaction to my tongue barely grazing her clit. I move, she moves. I twitch, I blink: she gasps, shudders. We'd move to a different hotel, pool our drugs, move on to my Italy plan. Bada-bing-bada-bang. Bada-my-tongue-on-your-clit. I leaned my head against her knee and put my lips on her dry skin. Is there something humiliating about going down on a girl? Maybe at first, with you just bobbing around down there, her up top, taking in the ceiling, wondering about postcards she meant to write, wondering whether she should start yelping out instructions, but then once you've done something to display that you have a vague idea of women's geography, once you demonstrated your ability to breathe through your nose, she's sold, she's going to sit back, relax, surrender and let your tongue ride her little pink guy until whammo, she's a gasping, bucking, helpless fool, and you've won, and who looks silly now?, and once she catches her breath enough, so that she can just beg for it, then the dynamics have turned and those first few minutes of shame have matured into a hefty dividend. I was inside her thighs. I was in the cleft of her labia, then over it into the real, hunting for dampness. Then back up around her hairless thigh. And retreating even further to the knee. Pulling her underwear down with me. Slipping out one leg and then the other. A quick breath, gulp for air, then down again. And it was damp. The store was open. My tongue did a long pass, parting the lips, stopping for a brief, light second on the small tent of skin over her clit.

"I'd be careful," she said. "I think he came."

This is the girl who draws. A Young Pioneer. Did she laugh after she said this? My tongue stuck as if it were frozen to a chairlift bar. What would Asher do? What would a Man do? He'd make it fucking happen. He'd astonish her by forging on, blow her away. Because who fucking cares? I witnessed death. It's protein. Someone else's, but it's all just life stuff, matter forming, transforming, cells and atoms, tree bark, a worm, a fish, a Croatian guy's spunk, a dead British guy going back into the ground. Just don't swallow. She's waiting. She's not laughing. Do it. She wouldn't have let me even begin if he had. She just hasn't showered. It's a musty taste but compared to what? I've never dined here before. And so what if he freaking did? This is your chance to show her an extraordinary love, an untouchable love, a wide and deep love. Blow her away. What was this, if it wasn't love?

"Seriously, it's kind of gross. I don't think I can let you continue."

Then I heard the door open. click to close

From Grotesque
by Natsuo Kirino
(Knopf)

OVERALL RATING: 5.240



Buy Grotesque here



Buy Grotesque here

Zhang grabbed me tightly and I leaned into him. His leather coat was cool against my bare skin.

"Hurry up and take off your clothes."

"I'm not undressing. I want you to suck me off just like this."

I got down on my knees and pulled the zipper on Zhang's jeans. He pulled his dick out of his shorts and pushed it into my mouth. He rambled away while he had me suck him.

"You're really a submissive girl. You do everything I tell you to do, since I'm your customer. I wonder why that is. I don't know much about Q University, but I imagine it's one of the most prestigious institutions in Japan. In China, girls who graduate from university wouldn't dare do what you're doing. All they can think about is their own career — making it to the top. It looks like you've given up on your career. I guess you got tired of being submissive at work, so instead you submit to men you've never met. Am I wrong? You know, men don't really like women who are submissive. My little sister was extremely attractive. Her name was Mei-kun. She's dead now, but I really respected her. I loved her. No matter how difficult things became or how she had to struggle, she always fought her way to the top. She was always looking for the next challenge. I hate a woman who looks back. I could never love a woman like you. That's what lets me treat you like this."

Zhang gradually grew more excited as he talked. I took my mouth off his penis and quickly fumbled through my purse for a condom. Zhang was still sitting on the mattress. He drew me closer and started kissing me roughly. I was startled. I'd never been embraced that way by a customer. Zhang started to move his hips on top of me and I felt a change taking place inside me that I had never experienced before. What was happening? I was burning. All this time I had been faking orgasms and now I was finally having the real thing? It wasn't possible! Oh, God! I clung to Zhang's leather jacket.

"Oh God, save me!" click to close

From Clown Girl
by Monica Drake
(Hawthorne)

OVERALL RATING: 5.360



Buy Clown Girl here



Buy Clown Girl here

If Rex asked me to eat glass, I would've done it.

Later, in the quiet of the dressing room, he closed the door. I stood. My legs trembled, knees stiff with exertion, exhilaration and Hooksexups. Rex said, "You're a natural." He unstrapped the table, lifted it from my back and set it aside.

"It was all you," I said.

"Not at all!" His big hands reached forward to massage my shoulders. I closed my eyes and groaned. "Tough work, isn't it?"" He let his hands slide down my shoulders to the collar of my black catsuit, lowered the zipper in back. The cloth peeled away, cool air brushed my skin and my shoulders stretched larger, free of the fabric. "Goosebumps," Rex said and ran a finger down my spine, his voice a quiet growl. His skin smelled hot, flammable as white gas. He touched a calloused finger to my collarbone, then ran his finger down over my breast and pushed the suit lower. Bottles rolled over the floor between smoking batons. Sweat-marked Lycra clung tight as hands against my thighs, my hips.

We dropped onto a sagging couch buried in costumes, and around us the costumes smelled like every show there'd even been, every date, every human body: smoke, perfume and cologne layered over the musty mix of Goodwill and basement mildew, cat piss, the hot animal ripeness of Hooksexups and sweat. This was our opening night. Rex was on top of me, his weight and smell, and the clothes underneath us were like a hundred people there, a bed of empty arms and torn pant legs.

My clown makeup smeared across the white spaces of Rex's clown face and made a print on his skin.

I pushed him back an inch, said, "Your lipstick's smeared, dahlink."

When he smiled, his cracked makeup deepened the creases in his face until he was a marionette, a dusty doll, an outdated mannequin.

He leaned forward, bit my belly. With gentle bites he moved along my ribs, up, until he found the white of my breasts, until I was covered in patches of red, smeared chalk white, and blue-black like bruises. Rex Galore and I blended, designs merged and morphed. Forget P.T. Barnum — sex was the greatest show on earth, and Rex and me, we were a tangle and I was in the perfume of white gas, smoke and sweat. I couldn't breathe. I was buried alive. Did I care? Only for an encore.

Rex undid his fly. The catsuit was a pile of darkness on the floor.

I whispered, "Do you have a rubber?"

He laughed, hushed, a laughing whisper, as though his parents were in the next room, and reached one arm past my head to a nightstand there. "A rubber chicken." He shook the dancing chicken in the air. "Will that do?"

I laughed back, ran a finger along the bumps of the fake chicken skin. "Ribbed and beaked for her pleasure, even. Want me to leave you two alone?"

He threw the chicken on the floor and bit my neck and I giggled and he said, "Never," and he was everywhere then. The couch was a sinking place and I disappeared into the orgy of costumes, the smell of nervous strangers, makeup and smoke, my naked body buried in the perfume of human need. click to close

Previous Henry Miller Award


Ooh La La by Florence Dugas	6.19
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Everybody Loves Somebody by Joanna Scott	3.67
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Try by Lily Burana	9.41
Sex, Blood and Rock 'N' Roll by Kimberly Warner-Cohen	8.49
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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
Surfing Armageddon by George Tabb	7.33


Try by Lily Burana	8.50
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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


Try by Lily Burana	8.86
Sex, Blood and Rock 'N' Roll by Kimberly Warner-Cohen	7.96
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Cellophane by Marie Arana	7.23