Mr. Cox

A second pleasant surprise was awaiting Mr. Richards in the office. As he was told, Mr. Cox was appointed to head a totally different division in a totally different department. Some dickhead somewhere made a mistake, but that mistake had been corrected and the position of the Division Head was rightfully Mr. Richards's effective immediately.

Shortly after Mr. Richards had settled in the new office, his secretary informed him that he was needed on an urgent matter by two visitors from FBI that were waiting in the lobby. The visitors introduced themselves as Agent Beth and Agent Rachel. They were both dressed in nearly identical black skirts and white blouses, they looked young and athletically fit and appeared very pleasant to the eye in all respects.

"We need to ask you a few questions in confidence," started Agent Beth. "How well did you know Mr. Cox, the one that was mistakenly appointed for your position?"

"Well..." started Mr. Richards not knowing how to approach the subject.

"Let me help you," said Agent Beth with a sly smile. "That Mr. Cox was arrested last night at the Dulles International Airport while awaiting a flight to Venezuela."

"Why Venezuela?" asked Mr. Richards.

"Perhaps because there is no extradition treaty between Venezuela and the United States. That does not matter. What matters is that thank god the security guard at the airport timely noticed that he was just a dick and obviously should not be boarding an international flight. The guard informed the FBI and our people picked up that Mr. Cox and placed him into custody. When he was being processed, he admitted that he was not a real person, but that he was a dick and gave your name, address and social security number as an indication that you were his owner."

"Agent Rachel and I were supposed to interrogate him this morning," she continued, "but Mr. Cox was simply missing from his cell."

"This is all very strange," said Mr. Richards, "but how can I help you with this matter?"

"Do you know his whereabouts?" asked Agent Rachel?

"Actually, I do," said Mr. Richards, "he is back where he is supposed to be, just here, in my pants."

"Can we see him?"

"If you must," said Mr. Richards and started unbuckling his belt.

"Oh, thank you, sir. If you do not mind, please stand here close to the light, so that we could run a proper identification process," said Agent Rachel.

Mr. Richards moved to the middle for the room, stood up facing the window and lowered his trousers and underwear.

Agent Beth and Agent Rachel knelt in front of him and began visually inspecting his dick.

"Excellent specimen. Would you permit me to question him?" asked Agent Beth.

"Question him, what for? How are you going to do that?" asked Mr. Richards in astonishment.

"I cannot comment on an ongoing investigation," said Agent Beth sternly.

"There is a new interrogation technique," explained Agent Rachel, "it is called pussyboarding. It is very effective, but the Congress has not approved it yet. Some liberals are opposing it, but we have a very strong support among the GOP caucus."

"That sounds intriguing," said Mr. Richards.

"So, I hope you don't mind signing this release form, just here, here and here, and your initial over there," directed him Agent Rachel. While Mr. Richards was placing his John Hancocks on the release form, Agent Beth removed her skirt and panties and unbuttoned her blouse.

"Please, undo my bra," she asked Mr. Richards.

After that, Agent Beth knelt in front of him and took Mr. Richards's cock into her mouth.

"Do not worry," said Agent Rachel, "she is very well trained."

Her techniques were indeed very impressive and in a few seconds Mr. Richards's cock reached its nominal size and density.

"Looks like he is ready to talk now," observed Agent Rachel. "Please lay down on the floor facing the ceiling."

Mr. Richards did as instructed and Agent Beth slowly impaled herself on his cock. I am sure, he would not hold any secrets, thought Mr. Richards with his eyes closed and feeling the pleasure enveloping the entire length of his cock. When he opened his eyes, he noticed that Agent Rachel was standing above his face with her feet nearly touching his ears.

"What are you doing?" he asked looking up her skirt.

"We are going to work our good cop -- bad cop technique on him," she replied removing her panties.

"Which one are you?"

"Oh, I am very bad, baby" said Agent Rachel and lowered herself on his face.

After that, Mr. Richards became really tongue tied. In contrast, the Agents became rather chatty. Agent Beth was saying something to Agent Rachel, presumably retelling what she obtained from the interrogation. Agent Rachel was repeating back everything she heard, presumably for information retention purposes. Mr. Richards did not understand a word of what they were saying. Perhaps that was some kind of a professional lingo, he thought. The Agents were speaking faster and faster, no words could be discerned, just moans that were getting more and more loud.

That Agent's double talk made it impossible for the cock to remain silent and it eagerly spilt an extraordinary volume of secrets into Agent Beth's clenching pussy, while both Agents came at once onto that interrogated cock and into Mr. Richards's mouth.

"I think we got what we needed," said Agent Beth standing up, "see for yourself."

With that, Agent Beth dipped two fingers into her own pussy, and placed those fingers smeared in Mr. Richards's cum into Agent Rachel's mouth.

"I think you are right," said Agent Rachel after licking the fingers, "we have what we need."

"Sir, we very much appreciate your cooperation," said Agent Beth. "You should watch him better. Once he becomes a repeat offender, he will be much harder to control. He may be placed on probation, or even worse."

"Probation, what is that?" asked Mr. Richards.

"You don't want to know," said Agent Beth.

"What is worse than probation?"

"That you don't want to know either," said Agent Rachel, "here is my card, feel free to give me a call if there is any problem with Mr. Cox in the future."

And with that, the Agents left.

For the rest of his workday, Mr. Richards felt a little guilty about that interrogation. He was not sure how much of it to share with his wife. Then he recalled that Agent Beth warned him about the confidentiality of their conversation and decided to keep all the information to himself. On the way home, he stopped by the florist and picked up a dozen red roses for his wife.

At home he found Lucy in a pensive mood.

"Anything happened?" he asked.

"Yes, honey. While you were at work, two guys from CIA came to talk to me about Mr. Cox," said Lucy. "First, they asked me to repeat everything Mr. Cox said. I told them that he said very little."

"Right, and then what?"

"Then they were wondering if he was ever talking about black swans."

"Black swans? What that is about?"

"These agents, they said that those black swans are some kind of a secret spy organization that places their own people within government agencies. They were wondering if Mr. Cox had any connection to that."

"Wow, and what did you say?"

"I said I knew nothing, and that Mr. Cox barely said a few words while he was here. And then they were asking what exactly he was doing here for the whole evening if he did not say much."

"And what did you say?"

"And I said that I was not very comfortable describing what he was doing. And they suggested to help me by using some modern questioning technique where I would not have to say anything and they would find out everything they needed. They called it pussyboarding. They said that the Congress is yet to approve it, and that the liberals are opposing it, but that the conservatives are all for it. I thought I would try it."

"So you agreed?"

"Yes, honey. They asked me to sign a release form and after I signed it, they took me to the bedroom."

"Why bedroom?"

"This is how this thing works."

"Or I see. Did they try the good cop -- bad cop technique on you?"

"They did! How do you know? I have to tell you, the bad one was really good. Well, the good one was not bad either."

"What a day," said Mr. Richards taking Lucy's hand into his. "Let's hope Mr. Cox does not owe any taxes. I really do not want IRS people here and neither would you."

***

Some readers may complain that the events depicted in this story are strange. Let me ask you, my reader friends, have you read the news? God bless you if this is the strangest story of what you have read today.