tildedave

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asshole

young woman's customer tonight is a cost-accountant who likes to have light 
  bulbs <em>screwed into his asshole</em>, and this John has also brought a little 
  <em>hashish to smoke</em>, so by the time he leaves he's forgotten about Byron 
  still there in his asshole&#8212;doesn't ever, in fact, find out, because when 
  he finally gets around to sitting down (having stood up in trolleys all the 
  way home) it's on his own home toilet and plop! there goes Byron in the water 
  and flusssshhhh! away down the waste lines to the Elbe estuary. He is just round

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orgasm

in the place, Benito the Bulb over in the next sconce who's always planning 
  an escape, Bernie down the hall in the toilet, who has all kinds of urolagnia 
  jokes to tell, his mother Brenda in the kitchen who talks of hashish hush puppies, 
  dildos rigged to pump floods of paregoric orgasm to the cap-illaries of the 
  womb, prayers to Astarte and Lilith, queen of the night, reaches into the true 
  Night of the Other, cold and naked on linoleum floors after days without sleep, 
  the dreams and tears become a natural state. . . .</p>