Women Are Holes

By Hannah Hush

Women are holes. We’re built to be empty. It’s our natural state. We all have different strategies for coping. Some women become total sluts as if by sheer quantity of cock we could somehow fill the void. Some women become nuns and fill themselves with belief in something higher. Some women become total control freaks as if by controlling every aspect of their lives it would somehow all have meaning. Women are a little crazy. It’s a design flaw. You wonder why pregnant women always seem to have that extra glow…

It was amazing that I had any time at all for philosophy. I hadn’t hired a fucking caterer. I had to do it all myself. Yep. That’s right. I’m in the control freak category of the aforementioned philosophizing. Tuck, fold; the crepes with cream made perfectly even delicious rows on trays. You can thank me for the order in your universe later.

Tonight was going to be special. Tonight I would find out who my friends really were. I invited everyone; even some people I knew weren’t my friends. It’s all about community. I figure civilian women who like porn need a sense of community. Most people just think we’re freaks. I think that’s why Honey West started the site in the first place. Those of us who like to ogle porn guys need a place to be ourselves where it isn’t all about the chicks. So I advertised my little housewarming get together on the web site and bought some plane tickets for those far away chickas who deserve to not get left out.

I invited everyone who showed up, except one guest. I hadn’t invited Derrick. Truthfully, I was thinking sort of a girl’s night of fun. I guess he felt entitled to show up. You know, his web site, his fans, he was the one who did all the fucking to bring us together and all. But that’s cool, the more the merrier I suppose.

I won’t say the party went off without a hitch. The thing about women who like porn is that there’s a social stigma involved and that means that if you’re willing to publicly admit you like porn that you don’t give a flying fuck what the social norms are; which makes for a house full of really opinionated great girlfriends. None of them bi though… sigh. Of course Derrick’s presence made some of the chicks feel like it was a fucking competition rather than a party. There were some horns locked and some victors and a wasteland of empty trays of food and drink. Some of those trays were empty because women had thrown their drinks on each other in a vast fucking-bring-it, cross-that-sand-line orgy of violence.

I surveyed the room. Cleanups a bitch and the host gets to be bottom bitch; how special. Derrick was the only guest left here and I really wished he would leave so I could get started on this colossal mess. I didn’t say anything though, because my mama fucking raised me right. He was still nursing his single drink of the night, in the same spot he’d been for pretty much the whole night with that same slightly amused cocky smile he had used to survey the competition carnage that his unexpected presence had created—he was a party crasher and loving it.

Suddenly he downed his drink in a gulp and started striding toward me; long cocky strides.

“Hey, mama, I had a good time at your party and I thought it would be nice if I stayed behind to help clean up.”

Damn, I thought. I’ve misjudged him. I’ll bet he gets that a lot, I thought, but said “Thank you for your most gracious offer. Will you help me gather up the empty trays? The kitchen is just through there.”

In no time at all I found myself standing next to Derrick passing dishes back and forth between sinks. Hmmm… he knows how to wash a dish. That’s surprising for a man who doesn’t want to separate his own M&Ms by color. There I go again… a girl gots to be a bitch about everything.

Thunk. The last dish made a satisfying clunk as it settled into its niche in the cabinet. I had barely closed the closet door when I felt hands on me. I tried to squirm away and got a hard countertop mark in my tummy.

“Please stop, Derrick.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“That’s just silly. Don’t pretend to be hard to get. You’re the biggest chaser ever; monopolizing my story board; messaging my other fans. Don’t pretend you don’t want it.” He continued running his hands up and down me and started kissing my neck.

I panicked. My strategy for hole-fixing is being a control freak, not being a slut. I started pushing against him and squirming hard. “No, Derrick, fucking no.”

“You’re so cute when you squirm and it makes my cock hard the way you’re wiggling back and forth like that.”

I tried hard to think of a plan and my mind blanked. Struggling harder just wasn’t getting me anywhere; he was ten times stronger than I’ll ever be. I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Then I had a flash of inspiration. He doesn’t understand about the word no. “Red!”

He backed off, looking confused. “What’s wrong mama?”

“When I say I don’t want to have sex with you, I mean it. I don’t know what kind of girl you’re used to, but I don’t fuck around with the word no. It has its ordinary meaning.” I enjoyed the righteous indignation coursing through my veins. When you can’t control, get mad, I highly recommend it because it makes you feel better.

He rolled his eyes at me. “Well OK, hon, but dayum, you can see where a guy might get the wrong idea, what with you posting erotica starring you and him and all. I mean shit; I watched all the other women leave. I could have had any of them. Then I spent how long washing dishes with you? I mean it’s your body and all, but it does create sort of a social contract of expectations.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, that was fantasy, and this is reality, and I never expected you to jump off the fucking screen and into my fucking house. I like you and all, but I really just met you, the real you.”

He rolled his eyes at me again. “Riiiight. Little Miss Whip-Me-With-Nettles Organic Bondage Queen is gonna get all selective and prudish and what-not at this stage of the game. That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to seeing if you could take me or if you were gonna tap out like a civilian-in-heat.”

I sputtered, completely speechless; I was wringing the dish towel in my hand like it was a chicken neck. He watched me cast about for words for a few minutes and then suddenly his eyes lit up and he said, “Oooohhh, I get it. You’re one of those women who dates guys that’ll do what you say and you can control every aspect of their lives and they’ll take all your shit and then you fantasize about subbing, because it’s what you are inside, and then to top it off now that there is a real man in your kitchen you can’t take the heat. You want me to leave because you’re all scared of not controlling shit.”

He grabbed a hand full of my hair and dragged me over to the sliding glass doors in the adjoining dining room. He slapped each of my palms into the glass and my forehead followed until I was pressed to the glass like a reflection.

“Look out into the night, slut. Look out and think about how many other men out there can give you what you want. If you let me leave, I’m not coming back. People pay me for my time and I don’t fucking waste it on a raw deal.” He moved his hands to my stomach so that his finger was just above the waist of my jeans and he started rubbing the very edge of his finger under them. “Just let go. Let go and dare to be yourself. All it takes is one little ‘yes’ and I’ll reach into your pants and rub your clit until you soak your panties. Let go, it feels good.”

My knees trembled against the glass. “Yes,” I whispered.

He dipped his hand down my waist and I was so mortifyingly wet already. He rubbed back and forth. He used his other hand to pull my shirt and bra up so that my tits were pressed into the cold glass. I’m sure the lights in the house and the darkness outside made it quite a show, but I couldn’t care. I started squirming in massive frustration. I was just too wet to get enough friction for the rubbing to push me over the edge; it was like trying to light a flooded engine.

He suddenly pulled back from me and quickly peeled off all his clothes in quick efficient movements like he was trying not to break up the flow of the scene. More realistically, he was probably just trying not to give me time to bolt like a spooked horse. I wished he would blindfold me. Easily spooked horses need a good pair of blinders. Of course, with him naked, I was practically blind anyway.

“You’re cute with your face all red. I was gonna smack your face around some, but I don’t see how I’d tell the difference. Don’t just stand there; take your clothes off for me.”

My hands trembled as I struggled with buttons. I managed to get my shirt and my pants off and as I was taking my bra off, the tines got caught in my hair. He reached to help me. “That’s so cute. Wave a little cock in a slut’s direction and a bitch forgets how to complete simple tasks like dressing and undressing herself.” He yanked it away and I could see a tiny clump of my hair go with it. I really couldn’t care if it would leave a visible hair-hole or not. I was more concerned with my other holes. I came toward him, intent on getting what I felt I needed.

“Woa little slut. I don’t think so. I’m in charge today. He roughly pushed me away and reached down to grab my t-shirt. He wiped my shirt across my pussy and rubbed until all my lube rubbed away. He grabbed my jaw at the hinges and pressed. When my mouth opened, he shoved the pussy-soaked end in my mouth and let the rest of the shirt dangle down over me. Then he grabbed my pants from the floor and balled them up on the dining room table. He lay down on the table so that the ball of clothing was supporting his lower back and pulled one of his feet up to his knee so that he had one of his knees pointing up and the rest of him was stretched out. He reached his arms toward me.

“Come here, slut. Don’t let your shirt drop and come crouch on the table.” I climbed onto the table, wondering what I must look like to him: a chunk of my hair missing, shirt hanging out of my mouth, covering most of my body and my nipples peaking out around it, squatting on the table with my legs open in front of a sliding glass window in a small, crowded Los Angeles neighborhood.

“Now, I want you to rub your dry little pussy across my knee for me.” I did as I was told and brought my red-flushed embarrassed self over to his knee. I crouched over him with my hands on my knees and started rubbing myself over him in tiny circles.

“That’s the lazy method, slut. Put your hands behind your head and thrust your tits out at me while you rub yourself on me.” I made frown lines of concentration as I struggled to thrust my tits out at him while still keeping my center of mass over his knee with no hands. He reached out and gave my tits a couple of playful, bouncing slaps. Not hard enough to knock me off balance, but hard enough to fucking mortify me at his level of control over me.

“Enough. I don’t want to wear out my new toy before she’s even started to impress me. He put his knee down. Lick yourself off my knee and then come straddle my cock.” I couldn’t lick fast enough. Cock! Derrick cock!

“Slow down and do a good job, whore.” I slowed and started licking more sensuously, rolling my eyes towards his face for effect.

“Don’t get fucking coquettish, just fucking lick your whore juice off me. Don’t be a messy slut.”

I finished and straddled him. His hips were so wide and as I started to move up and down I got tiny shafts of pain in all my joints from being spread so wife. No pain, no gain, I thought. I looked him in the eyes while I bounced, trying desperately to hang on for as long as he wanted.

“See, don’t you feel better with my cock inside you? None of your DP stories have me putting my cock in you. Don’t think I didn’t notice, you fucking tease. Blow jobs, jump-rope handles, ginger roots, markers, fingers, but never my cock.”

My breasts bounced and my nipples peaked back and forth from under the shirt into the air. He reached up and grabbed one of my nipples, forcing me to stretch it every time I pulled off him in preparation for my next downward thrust. He made a rhythm where he would twist it just a little every time it was at its most stretched.

He suddenly let go. “Get off me,” he said, roughly shoving me backward. I lost my balance and started to fall and he grabbed the shirt to pull me back. My teeth ground with the force and he grabbed my hair and commanded me not to fall. He got out from under me and he dragged me back into the living room by my hair on my knees.

He bent me over the couch and climbed on behind me. He put his hand on my head and shoved my head into the space between the couch cushions. He reached around me and grabbed a big handful of my pubic hair. “Come fuck me, don’t be a lazy bitch that makes me do all the work,” he said as he pulled my pubic hair away from his cock and held my neck in place. I pulled myself hard trying to obey and felt fire in my roots all along my pussy. I continued the struggle and started rapidly running out of air. I thrashed violently in panic.

“What’s wrong? Hard to breathe down there, bitch? Take a good deep breath.” I started to feel confused and he grabbed my hair and yanked me upright, slapping my face and commanding me to breath for him. The shirt went flying out of my jaw at the force of his slaps.

I started breathing and he grabbed my hips with both hands and entered me. He entered me hard and the force of it made me fall over toward the couch. He didn’t slow, but instead used the new angle to put his weight behind each anvil-like shove. I could feel a dagger of pain in the center of my cervix that instantaneously radiated out toward the place where it attached to my love tunnel every time he hit. I’d never been fucked that hard before. It was so incredibly painful and yet so satisfying. It hurt so good. It was as if the harder he fucked me the wholer I felt.

Minutes ticked by in a blur and I saw yellow squiggles of light in my field of vision with each thrust. I had no idea what time it was and I didn’t care. I felt so complete and filled. I realized my throat hurt and realized I was screaming hoarsely. Suddenly his rhythm changed and I could feel a sense of urgency inside myself as though something was wrong. He grabbed me tight and hugged me from behind while holding himself deep inside me in really tiny deep thrusts. Immediately I felt ten times wetter and I figured he must have sprayed my insides with his gift.

He suddenly pulled out and let go of me. I fell forward and felt this strange sense of renewed emptiness as I heard him back in the kitchen putting his clothes back on. Then I heard the front door open and close and he was gone.

The yellow lines started to recede from my vision and I felt a cool breeze inside my pussy. Fucking at that velocity must force a girl open, I thought. I tried to get up and felt his seed leek out down my thighs and I got back down as a wave of dizziness hit me.

You know… I think I’ll try the slut method of filling the empty hole from now on. I guess I just never realized that a hard fuck could fill the void so well.