Huge

The next night I quietly crawled beneath the covers. I was grinning in the dark. Leona was about to get a HUGE surprise. Stealthily I put my arm around her.

"What is it?" she asked.

I crawled on top of her and reached for my cock. It was limp. It was so limp. I lay on her and played with myself. Nothing. She patiently waited beneath me. I rubbed, I kissed, I slapped, I tried everything, and Nothing. Puzzled, I rolled back to my side of the bed and stared up into the darkness.

"I guess it's never going to work," she brooded sadly.

I couldn't tell her that it already had worked, now could I? Maybe I needed a psychiatrist.

"I don't understand it, I don't understand it," I babbled insanely.

"Never mind, honey," she touched my cheek, trying to comfort me. A tear slipped out of the corner of my eye and rolled down my cheek.

The next day Leona drove into town to do some shopping. I was alone in the house. I was reading my newspaper. Outside I could hear the sound of the motorized lawn mower. Then the sound stopped. I continued reading my newspaper. I heard a knock at the front door. I went to the door and opened it.

It was the new gardener. He was a tall sturdy fellow with an unruly mop of yellow hair. His pectoral muscles bulged through his short-sleeved T-shirt, and his biceps and triceps rippled, as he wiped his face with a red handkerchief. I looked up into his eyes. I had to. He towered over me.

"Sorry to bother you, sir," he apologized. "Could I get a glass of water?"

"Of course," I said, admitting him and guiding him down the hall to the kitchen. He went over to the sink, but I said, "no. I have some cold water in the refrigerator. Drink that." I took out the bottle and poured a glass for him. He took it from me and downed it in three gulps. I poured another glass. He drank that.

"Thanks a lot, I was really thirsty."

"So I noticed," I said. And when he turned to put the glass in the sink, I noticed something else. His gluteus. His round ass was absolutely bulging through his slim-cut blue jeans. The cloth was absolutely molded to the cheeks. My cock sprang suddenly into stiffness, and it looked like I had a maypole in my fly.

"Would you mind if I used your bathroom for a minute?" he asked. "I've really got to take a leak."

"This way," I said, leading him down the hall, trying to cover my embarrassing tent. How would I explain this?

"Oh, man. I've really got to go," he lamented, and pushed ahead of me to stand at the toilet. His pants were so tight, that there was no way he was going to get his dick through the fly. He opened the waist buttons, and undid the zipper and pushed the jeans down to mid-thigh level. He wasn't wearing any underwear. He hadn't even taken the time to close the door. He was standing there in front of me. I was standing there in the doorway gazing longingly at his gorgeous ass. My cock was doing the Charleston, a crazy 1920's dance.

He leaned forward to flush the toilet, and his flesh cheeks separated slightly. The little hole between them was exposed for a moment. I heard the sound of cloth tearing, and looked down. My rigid cock had burst through my pants. And I was wearing underpants. The large staff was pulsing all around, and before I knew what was happening, my feet moved forward a couple of steps and my cock was trying to jam itself into his asshole.

"Damn, man. What are you doing?" he cried in surprise.

"I don't know," I explained. "It's not me. It's my cock."

"Well, get it away from me."

I tried. I failed.

"I can't," I lamented. "It wants to fuck you. It has to fuck you." My cock was flicking itself all over his ass, stroking the little rosebud between his breathtaking cheeks. I heard him catch his own breath.

"Man. That feels wicked." And he started to press his ass against me. "I never had anything rub against my hole like that before. And your dick is so warm and so HUGE." He reached behind him and wrapped his hand around my rod. It pulsated in his grip.

"AAAGGGHHH," I moaned. I was getting harder and harder.

"I never saw such a big cock before," he said in wonderment.

"It wants to go up your asshole. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. He wasn't 100% sure, but the more he gripped my dick, the more he wanted it. Meanwhile, I was pinching and squeezing his delicious balloons. I bent down and licked the bouncy flesh. Then I worked my tongue toward the center, and I was actually tonguing the entrance to Utopia. It was so smooth and sensitive against my tongue. I could feel his asslips flickering against my lips. As if they were kissing me back.

"Suck my dick," I ordered frantically. "You've got to get it really wet and slidy."

Now I stood up and he knelt in front of me. He took my monster into his mouth and began coating it all over with his salivary secretions. I pressed his head into my crotch. He started to choke and cough up, but that was okay because it was just getting me wetter. I hated to lose access to that sweet ass, while he was sucking me.

I wheeled him against the sink and got behind him. I started forcing my dick into his hole.

"Oh, man. That hurts," he complained.

"Don't be a baby," I snapped angrily. "Take it like a man." I continued to charge forward and felt him opening up around me, accepting me. My appendage was sliding home. It was great. It was so great. I kept moving forward until my balls hit his jiggling assballoons. Then I knew I was there. I lay against his back for a minute or two, luxuriating in the feeling of his hot tunnel squeezing and fluttering on my dick. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.

"Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Fuck me," he begged and he tried to screw his hole around on my dick. Now he wanted it. I began a gentle fucking motion into him. And when he divined the rhythm, he began fucking his ass back against my abdomen and balls. His ass was tight enough, but he was squeezing it even tighter around my dick. He was actually jerking me off with his assmuscles.

"Fuck my hot ass. Fuck me," he was chanting continuously. And I added my own voice and made it a duet.

"My cock is fucking your tight ass. Feel my cock up there inside your body. I'm gonna shoot my fertilizer inside your dark garden. Would you like that? Would you like me to fertilize your asshole?"

"Yes. Yes," He agreed. "Fertilize me. Fertilize me."

My cock was just loving this. It was feeling so good. I guess it was glad to be alive. It could have easily died with its donor, if I had not been right there at the right time. Inside his ass it began to feel bigger than ever. As if it were expanding from his assheat. I felt my nuts itching and tingling. The cum was building. It was gonna shoot out through that long tube, which was buried deep in the gardener's guts. I was going to fertilize the gardener.

"AAAAAARRRRGGGG," I screamed in passion, as my seed shot forth. "AAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH," I screamed as it shot forth again, and again. My ass was driving my tool deeper into his rectum as my semen shot out.

"Ohhh, yeah. Cum in me. Cum in me," he wailed slapping his cheeks against my body, milking my cock. "Cream in me. I feel it. My ass is drinking your sweet cream. My ass is getting fertilized. My ass is ready for next year's crop."

When I stopped cumming, and he stopped milking, and we both stopped vocalizing, I withdrew my cock from his ass. He stood up. He pulled up his jeans. I stuffed my softening dick back through the tear it had made in my own pants. We looked at each other. I think we were both a little embarrassed. Neither of us had anticipated this. It had all been a complete surprise.

"I guess I'd better get back and finish mowing the lawn," he said.

"Yes," I said, and escorted him to the front door. I was still admiring his asscheeks when he walked across the grass and climbed back up onto the seat of the lawn mower. I closed the door, and went back into the living room. I had some thinking to do.

I opened my pants and dropped them around my ankles. I lowered my split jockeys on top of them. I sat down in an armchair, and began to study my cock. I held it this way. I held it that way. I looked at the freckle. My cock seemed to have a mind of it's own. It was leading me down strange paths. It knew what it wanted. It wanted ass. It wanted manass. It did not want Leona or Leona's cunt. That seemed fairly certain. I had a gay cock. I was a walking life support system for a HUGE faggot cock. My whole life was being disrupted, but when I was allowing the cock to have its own way, I certainly wasn't suffering. I was growing attached to my new cock and wanted it to have a good time.

Just who was my cock donor? I started to wonder. I had to find out where this cock had come from. Just whose it was. What it had done before it was stitched onto me. It seemed very important to me now to find this out. How would I go about this investigation? I knew the doctors would never tell me. I knew the hospital would never tell me. What could I do? I started to devise a plan.

I told Leona I was going to be out on business and would be home late. I had gone to a medical supplies store and purchased a white coat and a stethoscope. I waited till late in the afternoon and drove down to the hospital. I parked in the staff parking lot. (I was wearing my white coat.) I walked into the hospital and found my way to the basement. Yes. There was a door there. Records Room. That was what I wanted. The hall was empty. I went over to the door and turned the knob. Locked. I figured.

I started slowly walking up and down the hall. People passed me, but I kept my eyes down. I didn't want to gain attention. Up. Down. Up. Down. I touched the stethoscope to my own heart. It was beating rapidly. At last. A woman. A woman with a set of keys. She was walking towards the Records Room. Unobtrusively, I followed her. Walking several paces behind.

She turned the key in the door and went in. I waited a few moments and gently eased the door open. I saw no one. Good. She was lost behind the files. I tiptoed into the room and shut the door behind me. I head her opening drawers on the left side of the room. I scurried into one of the rows on the right side of the room and crouched down.

It took about fifteen minutes, but she finally left. I heard her high heels clicking toward the door of the Records Room. I heard the door open. I heard the door shut. I heard the key turn. How the hell would I get out of there? Oh, well. I'd worry about that later.

I started walking up and down the rows of file drawers. Births. Starting with 1900. Great. I kept walking. Deaths. Starting with 1900. Great. At least they were clearly marked. Appendectomies. Hernias. Euthanasia. Really? I searched and I searched. I must have walked for miles in those files. And there it was. Transplants. Starting with 1970. Good. A shorter row.

I located the row with my date. I opened the drawer apprehensively. Would it be there? It had to be there. I moved through the file to the date of the accident. There it was. Penis Transplant. Recipient. Mr. Gordon Quincy-me. My address. Everything. Donor. I held my breath. Harvey Meeker. Harvey Meeker. 122 Witherspoon Street. Witherspoon Street. I knew where that was. I would go there. What would I find? Harvey Meeker was dead. I had Harvey Meeker's penis. I wasn't going to find him at 122 Witherspoon Street. But it was a starting point.

I knew I should go home and go to 122 Witherspoon Street on another day. But I needed to know. I desperately needed to know. What did I need to know? I didn't know.

I went over and turned the door handle. Locked. Fuck. I'd forgotten that. And it was late in the day. Would I be locked in here all night long? My god. I realized I had to go the bathroom. Fuck. Not now, I thought.

I sat down on the floor next to the door, and waited. And waited. Not a sound. Nothing. I really had to go. This was bad. I clutched my HUGE penis and clamped down on my bladder.

Footsteps. Down the hall. Coming this way. I began to pound on the door.

"Help!" I called.

"Who's in there?" a female voice called.

"Dr. Fagin," I improvised. "Help. I'm locked in. I lost my keys. Get me out of here."

"Wait. I'll go get help," the voice said, and I heard high heels clacking down the hallway. Not fast enough. I squeezed and clamped. I didn't want to go on the floor of the Records Room. I'd try to wait.

Five minutes later I heard footsteps again. Two people. High heels and flat heels. A woman and a man.

"Hurry," I begged. "I have to go to the men's room."

The door opened. It was a tall skinny blonde haired woman, and a gray haired uniformed security guard. Before they could ask me any questions, I ran past them calling "men's room." The woman pointed. I ran down the hall. I went in. I made it.

I thought they might follow me and ask for my badge or my pass, but no. When I came out of the men's room, they were gone. I went up the stairs to the ground floor and out the front door. I walked across the parking lot to my car, got in and drove away. 122 Witherspoon Street.

122 Witherspoon Street was a two story wooden house on a quiet suburban street. I pulled up in front of it, and pulled off my doctor's coat before getting out of the car. I walked up the front path, up onto the porch and rang the doorbell.

A pleasant looking young man answered the door. Actually he was more than pleasant looking. He was very good looking. He was medium height and slender, with thick brown hair, neatly combed. And he was wearing fairly formfitting slacks, perfectly pressed with a good crease, and a bulky wool sweater.

"Yes?" he asked, wondering what I wanted at his front door.

"This is going to sound strange to you. Did a Harvey Meeker live here?"

"Yes, he did. Did you know Harvey?"

"Not exactly," I answered. "Did you know Harvey?"

"Of course I knew Harvey," he said. "We were friends. We were good friends."

"I see," I stammered for a couple of minutes. "May I come in?"

He opened the door and motioned for me to pass. He led me into the living room and sat me on the sofa. He sat himself in an armchair facing me.

"Now, what's this about?" he asked.

"Did you know that someone received a penile transplant from Harvey?"

"Yes. I knew." He nodded his head and narrowed his eyes on mine.

"I'm the recipient," I said.

"But those records are supposed to be kept secret. How did you find out about Harvey? And why are you here?" He was puzzled. Puzzled and upset.

"I'm really sorry to bother you, but I needed to find out about Harvey. Who he was. What he did."

"But why?" he asked me.

"I haven't been myself since the surgery," I explained. "My whole life is topsy-turvy. Was Harvey gay?"

"What kind of question is that?" He was a little put out with me. I really did have a lot of nerve coming to his house and asking a question like that.

"Just answer me," I pleaded. "I need to know."

"Yes. Harvey was gay. He was my lover. My partner. And I miss him." His eyes started to tear up and he reached into his pants pocket for a tissue, and began to dab at his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," I said, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder. "How did Harvey die?"

"He was shot."

"Oh, my god. How awful. I'm so sorry.... What's your name?"

"Ralph," he blubbered into the tissue. He was really sobbing now.

"Ralph, I'm so sorry," I repeated. "What was it? A robbery?"

"No," he said. Now he started to talk freely. "I kept begging him to be faithful to me. But he was so promiscuous. It was like he had to screw every man he saw. He was compulsive."

I was beginning to get a picture of Harvey. That could explain a lot of what had been happening to me. "Who shot Harvey?" I asked.

"A jealous wife," he cried. "She caught him fucking her husband, and she shot him to death in a jealous rage."

I was stunned. "How awful," I said. "How terrible."

"And she's going to get off. She's going to be acquitted. They're using the gay panic defense."

I squeezed his shoulder again. I wanted to calm him. I wanted to comfort him. Little by little his sobs subsided. He wiped his eyes again.

"You have Harvey's penis?" he asked shyly.

"Yes," I said. "And it's been doing strange things. It won't have sex with my wife, but I keep getting hard for other guys. This never happened to me before. I don't know if it's the penis. How could it be? It must be me." Now I started to cry. I reached in my pocket and grabbed a tissue, and began blotting my own eyes. He reached over and began to pat my shoulder.

"I know this is a horrible thing to ask," he said, "But could I see it?"

"My penis?" I wasn't prepared for this.

"Harvey's penis," he clarified. "Please. I'd like to see it."

"Okay," I agreed slowly. I stood up and began to unbuckle my belt. I unbuttoned the top button and opened the metal clasp. I pushed the pants down my leg. Then I lowered my underpants, and stood there with Mr. HUGE hanging there, dangling from my crotch.

I heard a quick intake of breath. "Yes," he said. He got down on his knees in front of my cock and began to study it. "Do you mind very much if I touch it a second?"

"Be my guest," I said generously.

He took it in his gentle hand and began feeling it. The length. The weight. He stretched it out and gazed at the head. "Yes. This is Harvey's penis," he said. "I'd know it anywhere. This is the cock I love. And there's the freckle." He leaned forward and planted a kiss on my freckle. "Oh, it's so beautiful," he continued. "And it's alive. And it's here. It's like a miracle."

I was starting to get a little stiff from his manual attention.

"It's so beautiful. It's so beautiful," he crooned. Then he started to rub it against his cheek. Then he started to nuzzle it. He looked up into my eyes. "Do you mind terribly?" he asked me.

"No. Go ahead," I said. I felt sorry for him. He opened his mouth and drew my cock into it. My cock was starting to enjoy the warm wet stimulation. It began to lengthen out and was losing its pliancy. He was almost singing as he worked on it. I looked down at him, and suddenly I knew that my cock wanted to fuck him. "Can I see your ass?" I asked.

He took his mouth off my dick. Strings of thick saliva still connected him to me. He looked up into my eyes again. "Sure," he said. He started to unbuckle his pants.

"Stand up and let me see your ass," I urged.

He stood and turned his back to me as he lowered the tight trousers and his gleaming white form-fitting cotton shorts. And then I saw those magnificent fleshy orbs. A thousand bells went off in my head. This had to be the greatest ass of all times. I had never seen anything so beautiful. He thought my cock was beautiful. I thought his ass was beautiful. Maybe we were made for each other. I reached out and began to palpate the resilient flesh. Gorgeous. Magnificent. "Bend over, a little," I said. "Spread your cheeks."

I saw the rosy circle. Zing. My cock went berserk. It started swinging around like a paddle-ball game. It turned an angry red. It was pulsing. It was throbbing. It reached out, (I almost tripped following it,) and delved between his luscious cheeks. It started jamming itself into his tight hole.

"Just wait a second," he said. "I'm a little tight. It's been a while. And it's so big." He knelt down and started sucking me again. He spit onto his fingers and started threading them into his asshole, moistening it, getting it ready for my entry. Then he stood up and turned his ass to me again, bending at the waist. "Go for it," he said.

I went for it. My cock plunged in. Right in. It slipped right through the entryway and skated all the way down his hot hallway. My god. I had never in my life....No, never. I swear it.

"It feels so good," he said. "I love it. I love it. Give me Harvey's cock. Give it to me."

I swear I heard an angel chorus. "Oh, Ralph, baby. Take it. Take my big cock. Squeeze your ass on my big cock. That's it. That's it, honey." I slammed into him enthusiastically. First I had my hands on his hips, than I moved my arms around him and clasped him to me, and began hunching into his delectable hole. This was where I belonged. My cock had finally come home. I hunched, and I hunched.