Mr. Cox

I

On April 1 of year 2019 a strange sequence of events began its course in our nation's capital. Upon waking up in the morning, Melinda K., a professional massage therapist could not find her mobile telephone on the nightstand. Melinda searched for it in the handbag and encountered a strange object. She stopped looking for the telephone and retrieved from the handbag something round, elongated and wrapped into a cloth napkin. Melinda placed it on the edge of the bed, unfolded the napkin and uncovered nothing else but a male penis. She realized that it was not some kind of a plastic fantastic dildo or other sort of a sex toy. No, that was a genuine uncircumcised penis with blueish veins running along its shaft and with foreskin fully covering its head. Attached to it was a pair of good size testicles. Dark pubic hairs were neatly encircling the overall bottom assembly.

Oh my god, thought Melinda, because she instantly recognized the penis as the one that belonged to Mr. Richards, her regular customer. The fact that she recognized someone's penis, should not prompt the reader to think anything inappropriate about Melinda. She was a fully degreed and certified massage therapist. She worked at a highly reputable establishment which may never be confused with shady enterprises providing services on which we occasionally learn through law-and-order sections of local news outlets. Melinda was an excellent massage therapist, highly regarded by her customers of all sexes and genders. Yet she had an artistic streak in her and considered herself being both a healer and a sculptor. Her artistic nature occasionally made her so inspired by certain human specimen or particular elements of their anatomy, that she permitted herself a little digression from the strict rules of her employment establishment. Those of course were carried with full cooperation on the part of her customers.

That how it was with Mr. Richards who happened to have such an outstanding penis, that Melinda would offer him a special service delivered manually, occasionally -- orally and in a few cases -- vaginally. Although Mr. Richards was not an overly generous tipper, he always rewarded Melinda with a copious amount of cum, which she considered to be a compliment to her professional mastery, good looks and sexual prowess.

It was just the day before when Mr. Richards held his regular appointment with Melinda. As she recalled, Mr. Richards was unusually stressed on account of some work-related issues. To help Mr. Richards relieve his stress, Melinda provided him with relaxing massage covering his entire body and culminating in a nice hand administered release. However, nothing, absolutely nothing in that encounter would even remotely suggest how could Mr. Richards's penis become detached from Mr. Richards's body, get wrapped in a cloth napkin and placed in Melinda's handbag.

Melinda touched the penis just with one finger. It felt warm and live. Encouraged by that feeling, Melinda picked it up and held in the palm of her hand. She could swear that the penis started growing in size responding to her touch.

"What the fuck is that?!"

That was Bobby K., her husband apparently coming from the bathroom and finding his wife holding a strange penis in her hand.

"Did you cut someone's dick off? Why did you bring it here, into our home? What are you doing with it in our bed?"

While Bobby was peppering Melinda with these questions to which she obviously had no answers, the penis kept growing and growing until it engorged to its fully erect and rather impressive size.

"Drop it immediately!" yelled Bobby.

Although Melinda obeyed that order and placed the penis back on the bed, strange things happened at that moment. Bobby discovered that he was having a massive erection excited by the view of his wife holding in her hand a very big and strange dick (as this was the word he used in his mind). At the same time, Melinda realized how wet and horny she became from the encounter with the strange cock (as this was the word she used in her mind).

Up and off had gone Melinda's nightgown. Down dropped Bobby's boxers. In slid Bobby's cock attacking Melinda from behind. Out flew Melinda's moan naturally directed at Mr. Richards's cock. And the cock responded! Its head went up, the foreskin retreated exposing the mother-of-pearl pinkish head glistening in precum and basking in the blissful light of the morning sun. The cock raised its head in a perfect forty-five degrees angle, stood on its balls and like a bunny on hinder legs jumped toward Melinda. Her jaw dropped in awe, and with a swiftness and precision of heat-seeking missile, the cock flew into Melinda's mouth.

And what a wonderful debauchery it instigated over and around her tongue, within her cheeks, in and out of her throat. It was warm, it was smooth, it was strong and throbbing with energy. Unlike any other cock usually attached to someone's body, this free flying cock had extra degrees of freedom: it could push and pull at any angle and turn up and down and around in Melinda's mouth like a lollipop.

Nobody ever fucked her face so thoroughly and so creatively. How nicely the cock twisted and turned inside her mouth in response to the swirling of Melinda's tongue around its silky head as if trying to let her know how pleased it was. She was getting dizzy of the energy the cock transmitted with its every pulsating vein, from the mischievous teasing by touching her throat, and from hitting on erogenous points inside her mouth she never knew existed.

Ah, thought Melinda, how nice would it be to introduce that wonderful cock to my pussy. But the pussy was firmly occupied by Bobby, who pounded it with a newly found enthusiasm and vigor. Bobby's hands were roaming over Melinda's body, groping and fondling everything within his reach in an attempt to claim full possession of his wife against that fly-in intruder.

Obviously, the matter of switching positions required some delicate degree of finesse. Melinda gently grabbed the cock by the balls and slowly pulled it out of her mouth. The cock did not resist, it pleasantly pulsated in Melinda's hand awaiting further directions.

"Come on, honey, I want you to cum in my mouth," said Melinda and made a hundred-and-eighty degrees turn, now facing and swallowing Bobby's cock and at the same time letting the other cock in through her nether lips.

Words have not been invented yet to describe the delicious mayhem that wonder cock caused in her pussy playfully enjoying itself inside, reaching into all her pussy's depths, all its nooks and crannies.

Waves of orgasm traveled through Melinda's body. Bobby unloaded himself into her throat and the wonder cock blessed her pussy with multiple jets of extraordinary cum.

***

Some educated readers may ask me at this point, how is it possible that the cock not being attached to the main body with its system of blood vessels could be capable of swelling and engorging, and where does it get all the materials necessary for making any quantity of cum? What can I tell you, I do not know. Perhaps some form of sexual energy gets transmitted to the detached cock through the Ether, and materialized into those cum producing ingredients by the means of some Einsteinian energy-to-mass transformations. Tell me, my reader friends, do you really know everything? Well, neither do I. I may have a massive Ph.D. under my belt, but I am not that kind of a doctor.

***

After that morning adventure, Melinda and Bobby K. were eating their breakfast.

"May I keep it, please?" Melinda asked. "It is harmless, and you have seen how much fun we can have with it."

"Nonsense," said Bobby. "How can you say that it is harmless? We can get in all kinds of trouble. We do not know where this thing comes from. We have no idea, whose dick this is. What if we are discovered with it in our possession through some kind of DNA tracing, or god knows what, and they, whoever they are, would send an army of lawyers and sue our asses for everything we've got and we ain't got much? You should just get rid of it as soon as possible."

Those were strong arguments, and Melinda felt that perhaps now was not the right time to tell Bobby K. that she knew whose cock it was. And that would not help either, who knows what kind of trouble they might get into if Mr. Richards were to find that they had his cock and even fucked it without owner's consent.

Later that morning, while on her way to work, Melinda was standing on the Arlington bridge above the Potomac. She made sure that nobody was looking and threw Mr. Richards's cock over the railings. Suddenly, she heard a swooshing sound and flapping of big wings and saw a black swan emerging from under the bridge, snatching the falling cock right in the air and soaring with it into the morning sky in the direction of Washington Memorial.

II

That same morning Mr. Richards woke up earlier than usual. His wife Lucy was softly breathing next to him in their bed. Mr. Richards worked at the Department of Good Intentions in its Paving-the-Way Division. That day was going to be a very important day for Mr. Richards, because a new Division Head was going to be named. It was widely expected within the Department that the new Division Head would be no other but Mr. Richards. Yet, Mr. Richards had an uneasy feeling that something might go wrong at the last minute and he could be passed over for this important promotion. Perhaps it was his nervousness about that matter to which he attributed the absence of his usual morning hard-on.

Maybe to check on his erection, or maybe just to scratch his balls, but Mr. Richards reached under his pajama pants and found, well, nothing. Hardly can a man imagine a more devastating horror than the one experienced by Mr. Richards when he encountered absolute nothingness in between his legs.

Trying not to wake up Lucy, Mr. Richards got off the bed and slipped into the bathroom. There he stepped on a stool in front of the mirror and lowered his pajama pants. What he saw in the mirror was terrifying: his belly was present, his pubis and pubic hair were there, but his dick and balls were missing as if they had never existed. There was no scar, not even a trace of anything that could suggest that only yesterday that place was prominently occupied by his impressive dick.

He now vividly remembered how nicely Melinda K., his massage therapist, had channeled all his stress into a warm stream of gooey cum and how expertly Melinda manipulated his dick to spread the cum over her face. He also remembered himself getting dressed and neatly packing his dick and balls into his cotton boxer briefs and then...

"Honey, are you in the bathroom?"

Cold sweat covered Mr. Richards's forehead when he imagined being caught penis-less with his pants down. Men he knew were getting in trouble with their wives for showing up at home without an item of underwear or for just missing a lousy sock. Imagine the trouble he would get in if his wife were to find out that he was missing the entire dick and both balls.

Where is your dick, honey? Where did you leave it? And your balls? What is her name? Mr. Richards vividly imagined that conversation. And then for how long could he hide that from her? But the time was running out, he was getting late for work.

"Yes, honey, I am coming out soon!"

Mr. Richards had to quickly wrap up his morning activities and shortly after that he was on his way to the office.

Bad news was awaiting him there, his worst suspicions were confirmed -- an outsider, some Mr. Cox, was appointed a new Division Head and rumors have been already circulating that the new boss was a total dick.

The Meet the Boss session was planned to take place right after lunch in the big conference room. When at that time Mr. Cox presented himself to all the Division personnel, Mr. Richards made a stunning discovery -- the new boss was none other but his missing dick. It did not matter that Mr. Cox was dressed in a nice pinstripe suit under which he was wearing a perfectly clean and starched white shirt and an elegant tie. It did not matter also, that on top of that, or rather at the bottom of it, Mr. Cox was sporting a pair of very shiny and very expensive shoes. The crux of the matter was that behind all those accessories, he was a dick and not just some figuratively mentioned dick, but actual dick that was prominently absent from between the legs of Mr. Richards.

And while Mr. Cox was going about the team spirit, new paradigms and key performance indicators, Mr. Richards felt that he had had it! Not only he was missing his dick, not only he was passed over for a crucial to his career promotion, but to add an insult to injury, his own dick had just become his boss!

Determined to show the impostor his place, Mr. Richards impatiently waited for the meeting to be over, followed Mr. Cox to, and sneaked into, his office.

"Who are you and what do you want?" asked Mr. Cox.

"You certainly know who I am, and I want you to immediately go back to where you come from," replied Mr. Richards.

Mr. Cox was puzzled, "Sir, I have no idea who you are and what you are talking about."

"Oh yes, you do know who I am. I am Mr. Richards and you sir, you are not a person, you are my dick!"

Once Mr. Cox heard Mr. Richards's name, he suddenly took a more friendly tone.

"Oh, Mr. Richards, I have heard many nice things about you. I was also told that you might be upset that you were not made a Division Head, but let me assure you, there is absolutely no need to for you to call me names. You and I are going to work together and turn this place around..."

Mr. Cox was about to take another round about those key performance indicators, when he noticed that Mr. Richards started unbuttoning his pants.

"Wait a second, who are you taking me for?"

Mr. Richards's fingers moved a little faster, he unbuttoned and dropped his pants and boxers in an effort to literally show Mr. Cox his place.

"You see," he said, "this is where you belong. I do not intend to call you names, sir. You see, you see?!" Mr. Richards was pointing to the flat spot under his belly. "There is nothing here now. You are just an impostor. You pretend to be a man, a Division Head, but in reality, you are nothing but my dick and your place is here, right under my pubis."

"But even for the sake of an argument, how can you prove it?" inquired Mr. Cox. "What evidence do you have that your dick is missing? Why should I believe you? What if you never had one?"

"I had a dick!" proudly exclaimed Mr. Richards, "I have witnesses, my wife for example." In the heat of the moment, Mr. Richards was about to mention Melinda K. but finally did not, as that would be ungentlemanly.

"Your wife, you have a wife?" Somehow that piece of information made a big impression on Mr. Cox.

"Of course I have a wife," assured him Mr. Richards. He even took out his mobile phone, found a picture of Lucy and showed it to Mr. Cox.

Mr. Cox looked at Lucy's picture and somehow increased in size.

"Mr. Richards," he said, "as a Division Head, I take family matters of my employees very seriously. No wife should be left behind."

Having said that, Mr. Cox called his secretary and ordered for his car to be brought to the entrance immediately. Half an hour later, a black stretched limousine stopped at Mr. Richards's house. Mr. Cox told the chauffeur to wait and followed Mr. Richards inside.

Lucy was a little surprised by their unannounced arrival. While on the way to the house, Mr. Richards was desperately searching for how to convey to his wife the essence of his dispute with Mr. Cox. But before he could even peep a word, Mr. Cox grabbed the matter by the horns.

"Dear Mrs. Richards," he said, "I am here to personally extend to you my deepest gratitude for your husband's outstanding work on behalf our department." He waited a little and added, "with full admiration and with all due respect."

To her husband's surprise, Mrs. Richards responded to these platitudes very positively, "You should call me Lucy. What would you like to drink?"

It became clear to Mr. Richards that those two were getting along rather amicably. Mr. Cox was sitting at the table in the dining room. His head turned healthy pink after two tequila shots Lucy served him. Things started getting even friendlier because after the third shot, Lucy somehow was sitting on his lap, while Mr. Cox was fondling her with youthful enthusiasm. Lucy neither objected to his advances, nor complained to her husband, and when Mr. Cox's hand crawled under the hem of her dress, she squirmed a little and moaned with encouragement.

Mr. Richards was intently following the progression of events. First Lucy's dress got peeled off her body on its own. Then her bra jumped off with a snapping sound leaving her magnificent breasts to be shared between Mr. Cox's mouth and his right hand. His left hand was deeply and busily buried inside Lucy's panties which suddenly evaporated leaving her fully naked.

A few minutes later Lucy slid off Mr. Cox's lap and disappeared under the table. Mr. Richards could not see his wife in that position but by the sound of it, he could detect that she was pleasuring Mr. Cox with her hallmark sloppy blowjob. Mr. Cox was visibly pleased, he grew in size so much that he had to remove his tie and shirt.

"Take me to bed now," said Lucy. And so they walked with Mr. Cox grabbing Lucy's ass and Lucy holding his swelling cock. Mr. Richards silently followed them to the master bedroom. There he watched Lucy lay on the bed and open her legs for Mr. Cox who entered her with throbbing firmness and expert precision.

Mr. Richards was torn between several conflicting emotions. Watching his boss fucking his wife was making him jealous. Yet his jealousy was misplaced as his wife was fucking the cock she was married to. Finally, watching his cock doing such as wonderful fucking made him very proud.

While the fucking intensified, Mr. Richards suddenly noticed how unusual were the fingers on Mr. Cox's hands. These fingers in fact looked like swelling cocks which Mr. Cox used to penetrate Lucy everywhere and rather skillfully played her like a flute yielding an impossible tune of Lucy's gasps, whimpering, and moans.

Once her moans reached the loudest ever crescendo, Lucy came so hard that the jealousy Mr. Richards felt caused a heavy swelling in his heart and in the absence of the cock on his body, that swelling had nowhere to go. But then, when with the growl and roar Mr. Cox delivered rivers of cum into all Lucy's orifices, Mr. Richards felt elated with happiness for his wife and with the sense of pride and personal achievement for his cock's mastery.

That restless Mr. Cox kept playing Lucy's flute in all possible and impossible positions. Lucy's tunes could now fill a whole symphony and the rivers of cum kept flowing and flowing until Mr. Richards felt withdrawn and exhausted.

He laid on edge of their spousal bed and fell asleep. In his sleep he did not hear how Mr. Cox left the house, he did not hear how Lucy came to bed and snuggled quietly next to him. He did not see how Mr. Cox got into his black stretched limousine, he did not hear how the clock started to strike midnight, nor did he see how at the last strike of the clock the limousine took off the ground. Nobody noticed that, but if someone were to look up the starry sky, they would see neither a limousine, nor Mr. Cox, but a gracious black swan carrying in his scarlet beak Mr. Richards's penis.

III

Next morning, when Mr. Richards opened his eyes, he saw Lucy next to him. She was already awake.

"Good morning honey," she said.

Suddenly Mr. Richards felt Lucy's hand on his cock. On HIS COCK! The cock was back, it was up, it was there, it was!

What ensued was a spectacular celebration of his regained manhood which both spouses thoroughly enjoyed. The reader should not insist on getting additional details of that event. Let us give these nice people some privacy.