My Friend and I

Synopsis: Two friends are gifted a shared. magical, powerful penis from a mysterious stranger. While one shows little interest in the possibilities of the tool, the other realizes its potential in strengthening their friendship through the tactics of sabotage, manipulation, deception, and unrivaled sexual conquest. The friends soon learn about the responsibilities that come with such awesome power. 

by Philip Mason
CHAPTER ONE.
        My friend Rudy and I share a penis. It's a detachable penis with more features than natural penises have. You might call it a designer penis. When I say that, I don't mean it's gaudy, glamorous, or too fancy for the things penises are used for. Nor do I mean it was produced by an expensive name brand. I don't mean to imply that there is another penis like this in existence, because there is not. It is the only penis of its kind, and not something you can buy in a store, or order specially made by a technician or artist or engineer. I guess it's a designer penis in the sense that it's an elite piece of meat that seems to have been designed by a being more brilliant than man, more powerful than any god.

        The properties of this penis are amplified versions of the qualities of a traditional penis, as well as features that are nothing like those possessed by your standard, working class cock; your proletariat penis, if you will. It vibrates at a number of different intensities and frequencies, and can swirl around a full 360 degrees, giving such all-encompassing stimulation and pleasure the likes of which the recipients of its blessings have never known. The thing can generate great fluctuations in temperature, going into a severe coldness that shocks and awes the flesh it touches, and then into a great throbbing heat that soothes the nerves. The shape of the penis is kind of curved so that it provides unmatched penetration depth and power, going off in directions unexpected and touching parts unexplored by the natural phallus. Its texture is similar to a regular penis, but with finely crafted improvements for greater stimulation. Maybe calling it a designer penis isn't accurate because really, it's much more than that.

        How we came upon this penis is really an interesting story. Rudy owns a bike shop out in the city and I don't own anything. I lived on the street, more or less (less, since I lived in a hotel owned by my uncle), and was always visiting Rudy in his shop, riding his bikes around the store like I belonged there and owned the place. Remember, I owned nothing so this was a big deal for me. Customers thought I worked there, so I'd get into long conversations with them about different bikes and wheels and biker shorts until they realized I didn't know what I was talking about and they'd complain to Rudy and ask him to throw me out. Sometime's he'd yell at me and throw staplers and pens at me like I was a bum who he wanted to get rid of, and other times he'd pretend to call the police to escort me away. I never left, though. I just stayed around there most of the time keeping Rudy company. He was engaged to a lousy woman who I won't call a slut legged shit-bitch, but I'll remark that she's horrible in a lot of ways. I had to keep Rudy sane because that devil of a woman was doing everything she could to destroy him.
        
        Let me go off on a tangent about Rudy and his wife really fast before I talk more about the penis. Rudy's mistake early on was that he didn't masturbate enough. He wasn't wise like me. I masturbated all the time, but not just as a means for pleasure - I often used masturbation as a strategic device. I learned at a young age that masturbation had the power to clear the mind and allowed one to focus on a task or a decision without the distraction of lust or the opaque haze of sexual curiosity. I used masturbation as a tool for important decisions and in times of great stress and chaos it was my single weapon to bring in calmness and order. If I were interested in a girl, either romantically or just sexually, I could use masturbation to hone in on my true feelings. If I thought about the girl during masturbation, my feelings toward her post-masturbation would reveal how I truly felt. If I tried to imagine myself cuddling with the girl after I masturbated to her, and I found myself disgusted or annoyed, I knew it was just a sexual attraction. If, on the other hand, I was pleased and excited by the idea of cuddling with her, then it indicated a deeper desire! I could usually make myself invulnerable to the opinions of others by masturbating violently a little while before encountering them. I was also able to exude confidence after masturbation, lending me the upper hand in most social situations.
        Rudy didn't adhere to this strict code of masturbatory self-improvement. He was impulsive and thoughtless, traits which led him on a road of self-destruction. The icing on the cake of this self destruction, or maybe the cherry on top, was Rudy's engagement to Rosalyn. It was the culmination of decades of reckless behavior and idiotic decision making. Rosalyn stood for everything that sane and sensible people are against. Because Rudy didn't understand the benefits of masturbation he was apparently doomed to a life of misery until he someday had the balls to divorce Rosalyn.


        Hanging out at Rudy's bike shop was the only time we could really do anything anymore, since he was busy planning the wedding with his fiancée. Most days I'd set aside a little time to ask him to re-evaluate why he was getting married to Rosalyn, and would drop hints that she was terrible by saying things like, "I fucking hate Rosalyn's guts and I wish someone would run her over with a steamroller and cremate her remains so no strands of DNA can be recovered." He didn't get it. I wasn't joking, so it always hurt when he laughed and reminded me of the girls I've dated.
        "Try to be a little more understanding," he'd say. "I hated Camilla when you told me you were gonna propose to her, but I didn't say anything. I was just happy you were happy."
        "Who's Camilla?" I'd ask. I'd never dated a girl named Camilla. "I never dated a girl named Camilla."
        "Yes you did," he'd say. "Remember the half blonde-half redhead? Her hair on the left was blond, her hair on the right was red. She had sizable breasts and her vagina tasted of raspberries."
        "I don't - oh, yes. I remember. How do you know about her vagina?"
        He'd reply with, "you would remark that her vagina wasn't tuna flavored like you'd come to expect, but instead had the very welcoming taste of raspberries. Why do we have this conversation every day?"
        We had this conversation every day. I actually had dated a girl named Camilla, and her vagina did taste like raspberries.
        "Let's not have this same conversation tomorrow," Rudy would say. But we'd end up having it, still.
        I was trying to break him down, trying to get through to him that Rosalyn wasn't worth his time. If it meant him constantly reminding me of the horrid harlots I'd dated, then so be it. These were blows I was willing to take for a friend.
        One day after we had this typical exchange, I asked him, "do you think you'll get to keep the store after the divorce?"
        "There won't be a divorce," he said. "We love each other too much to ever get divorced."
        "I'm sure you're the first couple who has ever thought this way," I assured him. "What do you think you see in her, anyway?"
        "Juicy lips, curvy hips, pointy nips, stellar tips," was his reply.
        Rosalyn was a bartender, so I understood the lips, hips, and nips, but the tips part was lost on me. I wasn't really convinced. Rudy was just settling because he'd never known anything greater than Rosalyn. Sure, her lips and hips were nice, and I could make a wild guess as to how nice her nips were (pretty nice), but there were girls out there who would be better for Rudy, and who wouldn't shit all over his face and his soul, figuratively or literally.
        "Hey faggots!" someone yelled from the door of the shop. I looked up and Rosalyn was walking toward us with her juicy lips and curvy hips.
        I backed away slowly, leaving room by the cash register for Rosalyn to lean in and talk to Rudy while I tinkered with a bike wheel.
        She was on her phone, reading the latest Tweets by Kim Kardashian. I could tell by the look of shit-eatery on her face. She always had this look about her when she was fully absorbed in some lamentable and deplorable interest, of which she had many. There were headphones in her ears. Not real headphones, but the frail little earbuds that come with iPods, for use by people when they don't really give a shit how music sounds as long as there's some pulsating rhythm going into their ears and violating their eardrums to confuse their brain into thinking its enjoying something. She was enjoying something, alright. Like a throbbing spear of male genitalia up her backside, real enjoyment was pouring out of her every step. She pulled off one of the earbuds and I could ear the sounds of something I hated to acknowledge that I recognized. It was Kanye West. I don't know how I knew it, but I knew. Maybe it was his voice ringing in the back of my brain, singing sweet rhymes about women and bitches alike, reminding me of everything I hate in the world. It took all sorts of willpower to prevent myself from throwing the whole bicycle at Rosalyn's head. All I ended up throwing her way were spiteful glances and piles of intense psychic hatred.
        I didn't pay attention to what her and Rudy talked about because I got a headache every time I listened to her talk. Since she was typing stuff on her phone for the entire duration of the conversation I doubt even she knew what was said. When Rosalyn finally left after a quick and sloppy french kiss to Rudy's face, I walked over to my pal and asked him when he was going to call off the wedding. He still insisted he wasn't.
        "What would make you leave her?" I asked. "I'm doing what good friends are supposed to do, I'm telling you there are better women out there for you and that she's got to go."
        "Anything short of her cheating on me is something we could work through," he said. "Our love is something you would never understand. You're going to need to get over this childishness and start being happy for me, you know? Like a friend."
        So I knew I had to get Rosalyn to cheat on Rudy. I didn't know how I would do it, but clearly it was meant to happen because at the moment I devised this first seed of a plot, a man walked through the door into the bike shop and asked Rudy for help with biker shorts.
        "All the shorts I have for riding bikes are too tight," the man said, "and cause what I fear is irreparable damage to my privates." He looked to be in his early 70's, but was fit and looked like he could probably have beaten me up if he threw the first two punches.
        "That's not good, my friend," Rudy said to the man. He was good at pretending to care about his customers and their lives. Or maybe he really did care. "Let's see if we can get you into something a little more loose around the junk. Any idea what size you're looking for?"
        "Fellow, my fleshy weapon has been ruined by everything I've tried," said the old man. "I've been riding bikes since 1944 and I can tell you that my dangly Dennis worked fine up until 1989. Bad bikes and bad woman and bad shorts are mostly to blame, I can say this with certainty." As all old people will do, the old man looked my way and continued his side-story to anyone else who would listen. Being the only other person in the store, I was caught in his trap of words. He'd taken the unfortunate condition of his penis and run clear through to another stream of thought with it.
        "Didn't let the damage keep me from having a good time, you understand?" I didn't care to understand, but he began to explain. "For a few years there my dick was all wrong, couldn't fuck with it."
        Rudy was pulling biker shorts off the racks and putting them into a neat little pile for the old man while the man continued talking.
        "But I met a magical Medusa maiden, went by the name of Mother Medusa. She could do magic with her tongue and even more diabolical stuff with her hands. She was a real spiritual type, into dark arts and occult wickedness, and magic and things of this sort. Must have been 1992 when I met her because I recall telling her it'd been a good 3 years since I could turn my dick hard. And I do know for sure it was '89 when my thing clogged up and quit spitting silver."
       I choked on my own sense of disgust for a minute, but the man kept talking.
       "This maiden made my dick turn to stone. Not literal stone, but hard as quartz I can assure you. I learned it wasn't my dick at all she did that to, but the magical new cock she'd gifted to me in those dark hours of my life. It was dark figuratively, but sometimes figurative darkness can manifest itself in literal darkness, at least long enough for something relevant to happen invisibly to your eyes, like a magical witch Goddess givin' you a hard new pecker. I didn't ask her how she made it, or why, but she showed me some of the wonderful things it could do. This motherfucker was built to fuck." He pulled down his pants to show us his magnificent tool.
        Rudy and I were a little shy, and both looked away at first, not comfortable with looking at an elderly man's ruins so proudly presented to us. But he stood there silently until we both adjusted our gaze to accept his package, and took in the view. We were speechless.
        "Go ahead," the old man said. "Touch it. I know you want to."
        "I don't really want to," Rudy said like a sheepish coward.
        I rushed over and poked the object with my index finger and then flicked it once or thrice. It was an outstanding piece of creation. It seemed like it could do anything it or its keeper wanted to.
        "Doesn't catch diseases, either. But keeps all the pleasure of a normal pecker, and is even a lot more sensitive. Another nice thing is that it won't get a girl pregnant. Sterilizes your gentlemen as they fly out. It really can do all kinds of wonderful, horrible, and magical things." It was like the old man was a salesman for this fancy piece of meat. "Mother Medusa called it Phallus Dei, or "God's Penis". What little I know of its origins indicate that it has existed for eons, and has belonged to royalty, men of great power and prestige, and legendary lovers remembered by myth and parable. I believe that unholy maiden came to own it by way of witchcraft and devilry. Also, slight spellcraft."
        "Some of these shorts might be just what you need," Rudy said, sorting through the pile he'd made. He laid the pile of shorts down by the cash register next to the old man. "These are the biggest we've got."
        "In my life up to the point at which my dick stopped working, I'd made love to maybe 10 different ladies, including my wife," the old man continued. "But after this mighty dick, in less than 20 years, I've made love to over 600 women, all of incredible beauty and fantastic sexual ability."
        "What about your wife?" asked Rudy. "How does she feel about you fornicating other women?"
        "She left me as soon as I got this magic wand. Doesn't matter, though. I'm happier now than I've ever been."
        That's when I knew this old man was my key to destroying Rudy's marriage. I had to have that penis. "Sir," I said. "Your penis is the most magical thing I've ever seen and I would like to get my hands on it."
        "I'm not gay, son," said the man. "I enjoy pleasure with women only. But I am honored by your proposition, and could see myself obliging you in another life, under different circumstances, with a sexuality less rigid and defined than mine."
        "Sure, I understand. But I mean I would like to have one like that for myself. How does a young chap like me get a rockin' dick like that?"
        "This is the only one in all the land, I'm afraid," the old man told me. "Didn't you just hear my tale of the maiden? I wasn't joking, son. But I'd be more than happy to give it to you."
        "What?" Rudy said with surprise. "Why would you give it to him?"
        "Really?" I asked. "You want me to pay you for it?"
        "No need to pay me," said the man. "My doctor keeps telling me that if I keep fucking the way I've been fucking I'm going  to die. My old man heart can't handle the kind of sexual intensity I create with this thing. When your dick is stronger than your heart, things aren't going to end well. I've had 3 heart attacks in the last 5 years. I've had a good run, partner. Penetrated some fine ladies in my days. Guess it's time for me to pass this torch on to younger blood."
        I could tell Rudy was jealous, because he clearly wanted the dick for himself. Although I knew his reasons for wanting it (to fuck Rosalyn deeper and harder than he knew was possible), I thought there may be a chance to get him to use it for things more in line with my friendly plot.
        "I don't know what to say," I replied to the old man. "I promise I will put that power penis to good use. My friend here is engaged to be married to a savage whore of a woman and won't be needing such a device for the foreseeable future."
        Rudy gave me a look of revulsion, or contempt, or disgust, or something that relayed the idea that he was offended by what I said. I was offended by his choice in women, so I wasn't concerned with his feelings at the moment. 
        "Son, you needn't promise me anything," said the man. "With this piece of magic in your possession, in your hands, in your pants, you really don't gotta put forth much effort to make love to women. All dicks pale in comparison to this dick. I can promise you that. Even the biggest and blackest dicks have nothing on Phallus Dei."


CHAPTER TWO.
        I was now in possession of the most finely crafted sex tool known to humankind. The man left it with me as he walked out of the shop that day. We never caught his name, but I've never thought names were important. What really mattered was the gift he'd bestowed upon us. The features of the penis were truly remarkable. I tried it on first and discovered right away that its abilities were superior to anything natural. I could now do things unimaginable and unseen in even the most extreme and worthwhile pornography. 
        By the end of the day I was able to convince Rudy that he should be interested in using this penis, hinting that he could use it to make love to women who were not Rosalyn, because, since it wasn't his penis, it didn't actually count as cheating. Although he was easily convinced of the item's potential and power, he wasn't receptive to the idea of using it with other women. Not at first. However, after a few more hours of hanging around his shop and letting him try on the penis, test it on the soft mannequins in his store sporting the latest riding gear, and examine its tricks and treats, he started to see things my way. I used a bicycle to demonstrate to him what I thought would be some really cool sex moves, and performed magic with the penis on these unmanned vehicles. I don't know how many bikes I practiced on but Rudy got the idea after a while that this penis was a gift from some unknowable power; some mystical, magical, mighty entity that created this enigmatic phallus for man's most primal desire: pleasure. 
        My plan that had started with the seed of primitive thought grew rapidly after the old man left us with his penis. There were now two possible objectives I might follow. One was to get Rudy to fuck other girls with this penis, film it, and show it to Rosalyn, making her leave him for good.  The other was to fuck Rosalyn with the penis myself, and film it to show to Rudy to get him to leave her. Both plans seemed plausible and highly intelligent with expert levels of sophistication. I knew Rudy would appreciate how much I cared for him as a friend. But before any of this could be done, I needed to experience the penis the way it was meant to be experienced. 
        I took the penis home with me when I left Rudy's shop, and put serious thought into the best and/or quickest way to use my new toy. It was obvious to me that the best and only use for the penis was intercourse of the sexual variety, so I needed to make that happen right away. I'm no ultra-stud (just a run-of-the-mill stud), but I had a few ladies who would open their doors and their legs to me in times of carnal craving, animalistic appetite, erotic eagerness, fleshly fervor, impassioned inclination, lecherous lasciviousness, titillating thirst, sensual salacity, and similar moments of alluring alliteration. 
        I called my friend and ex-girlfriend Latresia. I know what you're thinking: "Latresia? Must be a Japanese girl." Nope, black chick. She was super black. Loved black dicks, too. Who wouldn't, right? I hear a chocolate penis is the most craved treat among females of all flavors. I asked Latresia if she was busy that night, making it known that I was missing her something fierce. She said she remembered what my fierceness meant. She wasn't sure if she could deal with cleaning up blood and hair that night. I assured her it wouldn't be like that, and after hinting that my Marvin Gaye collection had gotten a little bigger and telling her I'd bought a new bottle of Chambord, she was on her way over. 
        I stood naked in front of the mirror in my bathroom with my new penis attached over my birth-penis. I looked positively stunning and couldn't take my eyes off of my beautiful self no matter how hard I wanted to. I didn't want to, so that was that. I blasted some W.A.S.P. from my stereo ("Come Back to Black", if you must know, to prepare me for my night in the jungle) while I shaved my chest, shaved the hair around my new penis, and practiced my most erotic faces until I was satisfied with the accuracy with which they conveyed my willingness to feel pleasure. I sprayed a cloud of cologne in the air and danced through it, into my bedroom, and put my sexiest clothes on in anticipation for Latresia's visit. 
        She knocked on my door right after I finished zipping my pants, and I welcomed her into my lavish hotel room. She wasn't in there for more than a minute before the guitar solo in the song kicked in and I lost control. I couldn't help myself. There was no time for small talk or catching up on one another's lives. The guitar solo meant I had to act, so I threw Latresia to the bed on which we first knew each other in a biblical sense, and foreplayed myself into her pants and very shortly into her body. She screamed at the first sight of the mighty member I brandished before her, but soon granted me passage to her inner sanctuary  as its powers corrupted her judgment. Her moans began right away. Latresia had never been a shy girl in the sack, but she was now a banshee screaming for her god and crying out in ecstasy. Phallus Dei was her God now, and took it to a level never before seen in mortal sex - I was sure of it. It rumbled, it vibrated, it twisted and turned and pumped with the strength of Allah, the thrust of Yahweh, the flight of Satan, and pulled me along like its pilot, the commander of the vessel, leaving me in control but astonished at its power. Subtle movements and oscillations coupled with robust and vanquishing sex-combos to impart paramount levels of satisfaction to my bedfellow. Our revelry was unrivaled, our coitus without equal. 
       The bed of sin on which we fucked was unable to contain us, and we soon found ourselves on the floor creating rug-burn all over our bodies, although the burn could not begin to match the vibrant and vigorous sensations tingling through our flesh. The walls were the next part of the room to be covered by the sweat of our raging bodies. The penis showed us a glimpse of the infinite, offered us a peak into the sensory overload of cosmic sex-gluttony. Latresia's wails of orgasmic warfare permeated the confines of my room and shook the entire floor of the hotel. 
        And then, with eruptive and furious intensification, we simultaneously reached the apogee of our most epic fuck with a force of brick-crushing extremity. And it was over. 
        Hours passed before Latresia or I were able to move from the spot on the floor on which we had collapsed. We couldn't speak, because our muscles were shaking and we lacked the necessary amounts of water in a human body to give us functionality and coherence. Our water was splattered in the form of sweat around the room. The humidity levels increased by 80% over the duration of our passion session. When Latresia was finally able to stand and move, she went to the sink to get a drink of water, and quietly dressed herself in her wet clothes. She was smiling the whole time, and looked at me the same way she had looked at me when we first dated years earlier. I felt a little uneasy at that moment. I wondered if that meant she wanted to date me again. To play it safe, I let myself pass out in that spot on the floor, naked, in my own sweat and love stains, so I wouldn't have to deal with any of that. Emotions were not my forte'.
        I woke up hours later to find Latresia gone and my hotel room's humidity levels approaching a normal value. I showered, got dressed, and grabbed a quick bite to eat at the continental breakfast downstairs before heading out to stop by Rudy's bike shop. 
        "Holy shit, Rudy," I said as I busted into the store. He was with two customers who I didn't bother to notice. "Last night was unbelievable." The customers were young women, each probably about 20 years old. I imposed on Rudy and the two ladies, and began my story. "So I called Latresia last night to test out the new weapon." The girls looked at me as if I was rude and insensitive to the fact that they were customers who needed help. That much was true. This was too important to wait for them to leave or to ask if they were interested. 
        "As you can see, I'm with customers," Rudy said politely. "I'll be finished shortly. You can tell me your story then."
        "Can't wait," I said. "So she comes over and I'm blasting WASP from my stereo to get me pumped for some liquid hot action and dynamite satisfaction. The guitar solo kicks in and I'm like "there's no time for talking! only time for fucking!", so I throw her onto the bed and pull out the new sword like I'm a Knight of the Round Table and she's a dragon begging for a brutal stabbing."
        While I was saying this, Rudy was shaking his head and trying to talk over me to the two confused ladies he was helping, acting like he wasn't listening to what I was telling him. 
        I raised my voice. "So I proceeded to stab the fuck out of that dragon, if you know what I mean. Or maybe I should say that I proceeded to stab the fuck into that dragon. And I think you know what I mean." I looked one of the girls in the eyes with my romantic stare, and said, "I'm talking about a penis, by the way." She nodded and said something. I wasn't listening. 
        "We fucked for what was probably hours, though it only felt like 20 minutes. But I've never, and I do mean never, ever, in my life, had sex that intense or insane. I drank Chambord out of her pussy at one point, and we spit it back and forth into each other's mouths for like ten minutes while fucking on a table that I never thought would hold us. She was screaming obscenities and orgasmic chants through the night, and we ruined our bodies with friction and collision until we both fell down from the shattering explosion of simultaneous orgasm multiplied by a thousand!" I tried to be as animated as possible to really convey the images that were important to the story. 
        "OK, we're leaving," said one of the girls. They turned and quickly left the store while Rudy gave me a look of hate. 
        "You cocksucking asshole!" he yelled. "Your stories can wait for later! I have customers to deal with, OK? If I lose customers, I lose business. I lose business, I lose money. I lose money, I lose the store, and you have no place to spend your entire day bothering me! I don't care about your penis adventures, do you understand?"
        "I think you do care," I told him. "You envy my dive into the abyss, and wish so badly that you could explore these caverns while you're stuck at home with the same old cave, day in, day out, getting ready to tie the knot. Rudy, my only remaining friend, you need a tool to take you through the wonderful world of love and lust. I have the tool. It is good. I know its power, for I have witnessed it, beheld it in its fullest glory." 
        Rudy laughed and told me I didn't know what I was talking about. But I wasn't going to stand there in his store while I could be out there getting some wicked tail with my wicked sick new dick. I was a god among insects, and only I knew it. Below the folds of his heart, Rudy knew it too. He just didn't want to accept it. I told Rudy to talk to the hand, and walked out of the store. 
        I pulled out my phone and looked through my numbers to see who I could contact about some serious sexual sport. I saw the name Mi-Ok and recalled our brief but moist encounter in Seattle when I had visited my parents' farm in Washington. I had gone into town to buy some alcoholic drinks at an establishment wherein I also drank them. It was a bar. The girl tending the bar was a beautiful girl who I struck up a conversation with about the relationship between height and weight. We both agreed that taller people generally weigh more than shorter people, and used this point to leap into more sexual discussion. 
        This girl's name was Mi-Ok. I know what you're thinking: "Mi-Ok? Must be a black girl." Nope, Korean girl. Totally hot and petite and lovely in every way. I had intended to stay at the bar for three drinks around lunch time, but I ended up staying for 30. By midnight I was trashed and wasn't able to pay my tab. I only brought four dollars in quarters into the bar with me, which wouldn't have been enough to pay for my original three drinks anyway, but at least I'd have been sober enough to escape. Mi-Ok said she'd pay my tab for me if I made it up to her in a very special way. I asked her what she had in mind, and she said she wanted to see a farm. She'd never seen one. Apparently, I'd been talking about that fucking farm my parents lived on all night, telling her about the great noises cows and pigs made when you tickled them. As she explained it, there were no farms in South Korea. I was drunk so I believed it completely. 
        I had drunkenly driven Mi-Ok all the way back to my parents' farm and I gave her a tour of it as she requested. She had paid my tab, after all, and I owed her this. We giggled and pranced around together most of the night. I took her out to the fields and told her in a drunken stupor that "the crops are fresh, tonight", and we needed to sample them. So we then started picking and eating different plants for what must have been hours. Even as the son of farmers, I had no idea what most of the plants were. By the time the sun came up, we were naked in a mostly devoured patch of hindberries, wildly embracing in a heated affair of oneness with the earth, and with one another. As we were covered in the juice of these ripe berries and slowly licked them off the other, we exchanged phone numbers via song, replacing the words of our favorite tunes with our telephone numbers. When we were about to get dressed, Mi-Ok had remarked that she wanted to go out to eat with me sometime, and I told her that I loved to eat out. Then I ate her out, juices and all. 
        Two years later, Mi-Ok moved to the town Rudy and I lived in. She called me to set up a time for us to meet for lunch so I could show her around town and catch up on things. I denied her invitation because at the time I was dating Camilla, and Camilla hated it when I spent time around other women. 
        It seemed like this was a good time to get back in touch with Mi-Ok and to show her how I'd improved as a lover. I left a message on her phone telling her I was no longer a mild lover, but a man who bordered on dangerous with the way he delivered the goods. She called me back not even an hour later, very excited to hear from me. She asked me if I'd like to go out to eat with her for lunch so we could catch up. I reminded her, "I love to eat out." 
        After lunch, Mi-Ok came back to the hotel with me and was very impressed that I was living so comfortably in an expensive suite. I didn't tell her it was my uncle's hotel, nor that I didn't have a job. I didn't tell her much of anything before I put on some real cool tunes to put her in the pants-removing mood. I lit all of my candles and turned off the light. I tried to remind her of that night at my parents' farm by singing my phone number to her to the tune of "Purple Rain". I don't know if it was my singing or the candles, or even the cool tunes in the background that by now she probably was ignoring in favor of my singing voice, but she was quickly getting into the mood. We danced slowly in the candlelight before slipping our clothes off under passionate kisses, and intertwining as one organism of orgasm. 
        Mi-Ok's vagina trembled with trepidation but finally accepted the messenger of fervent fruition. She was all mine, and I was all hers. Once contact was made, Phallus Dei made no mistakes and began the ritual of lovemaking like only it could. Slow vibrations increased to slightly faster vibrations, the temperature of the mighty device decreased to send shockwaves of stimulating cold through Mi-Ok's body while I lathered her in kisses and fancy hand movements intended for sculpting sensual feelings out of nothing. Quickly she was moved to screaming orgasmic yelps and moans, and our bones tried to meet through our layers of skin and hair and sweat. 
        "Welcome to Poundtown," I whispered in her ear. "I'm about to light up an ecstasy cigarette and smoke it with you."
        These tender words threw her into a frenzy unable to be contained by my muscles of average strength, and we spent the next moments wet with her secretions of yearning. It was a slippery ride and it only got slipperier. I took her rear end on its first trip to Poundtown, and this made the world quake with violent eruptions below us, sending volcanic bursts of delight through the universe, feeding a thirst unquenched for millennia. Our epic fuck was the stuff of legends, the bringer of peace and also war. When it came time for yet another simultaneous orgasm, the room experienced a rainstorm of liquids not dissimilar to a rainforest.
        Mi-Ok slept at my place that night because she was in no condition to walk, or drive, or move. The next morning I took a picture of the aftermath with my phone to show to Rudy later in the day. The rest of the morning was awkward, as Mi-Ok worshipped the penis as a god. I won't say the penis didn't deserve that sort of adoration, because it did, but it left me feeling like I should do something for Mi-Ok to assure her that her belief in the penis deity was a valid one, not like so many other false gods and the religions based around them. This penis was a thing to cherish, and worship, and praise as a higher power. I kind of wanted to do the same, but it would seem weird if I worshiped what appeared to be my own penis. So I relaxed while Mi-Ok did her thing. 
        Once again, I burst into Rudy's shop with a story to tell. He wasn't with any customers this time, but his cuntlord fiancee was there in full force, talking his ear off about shoes or something, and he was pretending to listen and to be interested. 
        "I'll be damned if I'm gonna stand here and listen to you talk about high heels, Rosalyn," I interrupted. "I have to talk to Rudy right away."
        They both looked at me, a little puzzled. "We're talking about wedding invitations," Rudy said. "Rosalyn doesn't wear high heels, which you'd know if you ever took the time to get to know her." 
        "Hi, I'm Rosalyn," she jokingly introduced herself, and offered to shake my hand. I wasn't having it. Not today. Not now and probably not ever. 
        I walked to the farthest corner of the bike shop and sat on a bike while the two of them talked, and gazed at them, disgusted by their spells of love. Some customers came in and looked around and I frowned at them. As soon as Rosalyn left I rushed over to Rudy and pulled out my cell phone. "Look at this," I said as I showed him the picture I had taken that morning in my hotel room. "That's my friend Mi-Ok. She's Korean."
        "North or South?" Rudy asked. 
        "North, I think. NO, wait. South. Pretty sure South."
        "...Go on."
        "Anyway," I continued, "last night I used it again. The dick. The powerhouse of thunderfuck. It's really, honestly, truthfully, no lie, real serious, the best goddamn thing I've ever used, period. Rudy, man, I'm telling you. This dick will change your life. I don't care what kind of sex you've had with Rosalyn or anyone else, it's got nothing on the sex you'll have with this dick. Shit. Listen to me. It's everything that old man said it was, but more. Not only will you bring the special delivery of the best orgasms and sex any woman has ever had, but you'll experience the most intense and satisfying orgasms of your life. And the best part is, it's not really your own dick, even though you feel it as your own, so it won't count as cheating if you use it to fuck some other lady. Some lady who isn't Rosalyn."
        "It does sound nice," Rudy said. "But you don't seem to understand what commitment means. I am committed to Rosalyn because I love her. I love her more than anything or anyone else on this planet. That includes random sex with random people, even with a stupid magic cock."
        "If this dick had ears," I said, "it would be real upset with how you're talking about it."
        "It would have to have emotions, too," Rudy reminded me. 
        "This stupid magic cock, as you call it, probably has more emotion than you or your stone cold jizz trap of a girlfriend."
        "She's my fiancee," he corrected me, "and every day I try so hard to control myself so I don't curb-stomp your face for talking about her like that. What has she ever done to you?" He seemed a little angry.
        "Sorry, forget about it," I said. "Hey, whattaya say we go grab some drinks after you close the shop, today? Just the two of us, like one or two drinks."
        "Rosalyn and I -" he started.
        "Fuck Rosalyn," I interrupted. "No, sorry. Didn't mean it. But here, listen. Tell her that just this once you're not going to take her feminist garbage and you're going to go out with your goddamn friend for a couple of drinks so you can go home drunk so that you can tolerate her and her incessant nagging and bitching and whining about women's rights and shit like that."
        Rudy had himself a nice little laugh, and said, "man, you really are out of touch. None of that sounds like Rosalyn in the least. But alright. If you promise that you'll quit talking shit about her every chance you get, I'll go grab some drinks with you. Sound good? We have a deal?"
        "Perfect, yes, deal!" I shouted. We shook hands and then we high-fived to seal the deal. "OK, I'll be back around 6 o'clock so we can go grab some killer cold ones!" I said as I walked toward the door. I made gestures of drinking beer all the way out the door. 
        "See you then," Rudy waved goodbye.
        It was a little past noon, which meant I had a little less than six hours to score some Rohypnol so I could drug Rudy at the bar and hook him up with some hot n' hungry slut queens ready for a buttfuck or a cocksuck. My plan was coming together like magic. 


CHAPTER THREE.
        I went to one of the many college campuses in town and made my way to the frat houses, with my hair dazzling like a frat boy's dream haircut so they knew I was just one of the guys. The cool guys. I entered a huge house and saw a couple of gentlemen playing a game of pool. 
        "Excuse me," I said. "Cool game of pool you guys have there and I really hate to barge in on you like this, but I'm from the frat house across the street." I pulled out a comb and put it through my hair to show I cared about my appearance.
        "Which one?" one of the guys asked. 
        "I'm gonna get right to the point, guy," I said. "I need to buy some roofies. Like, right now." 
        They looked at each other and played dumb. "We don't have any roofies," the other kid said.
        "I need some." I kept combing my hair. "Where can I get them?" 
        They looked at each other and played dumb again, saying, "sorry, I don't think we can help you."
        "What kind of faggot fraternity is this?" I asked. I posed it like a challenge so they'd be aware I meant business. 
        "Excuse me?" said the taller of the two dudes. "I think you've got the wrong idea about this place."
        "Not only that," chimed in the second guy, "but who the fuck do you think you are just coming in here like that and asking us for Flunitrazepam?"
        "Party's over," I said as I cracked my knuckles and made a face I'd practiced a hundred times before in case I ever got into a fight. I tossed the comb out the door. The gloves were off. I had masturbated before going to the frat house, so my confidence was sky high. Not to mention I had the most powerful dick in the universe in my pants. "I'm gonna give you to the count of three to find me some motherfucking roofies, or I'm tearing this place down!" 
        "Goddammit, fine," the shorter gentleman said. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small bag filled with pills. "How many you need?"
        "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" I asked, with a rhetorical air about me that surely exuded the confidence of a bull. "How much do they cost?" 
        "Five bucks a pop," he said.
        "Gimme seven," I said. "Just to be sure." Then I winked at him. 
        He didn't care for the wink, but he handed me seven pills after I handed him thirty five dollars. I examined them closely, having seen a few roofies in my time, and confirmed that they were the real deal. 
        "Thanks, amigo," I said. I tried to shake his hand but he insisted on getting back to his game of pool. His friend insisted on me leaving their house, so I did.
        I now had the roofies and it was only 1 o'clock in the afternoon. I spent the next few hours at the hotel pool scoping out the hot babes strutting their stuff in bikinis and even cleverly designed one-pieces. The bulge in my swimming trunks let them know I was open for business, but the hair on my chest let them know I wouldn't be hanging around for long. I made my presence known, and soaked up some rays while the sun moved slowly across the sky toward 6 o'clock. I was either going to have to masturbate or bang it out with a lovely lady before tonight's visit to the bar with Rudy, because I was going to require absolute focus and drive to bring the plan to action.
        I ended up masturbating because all the ladies at the hotel ended up being there with husbands or boyfriends, because women don't know how to travel alone. Masturbation was just the same with the dick, though it felt a little nicer. The magic in this member wasn't to be used simply for self-touch. 
        At 5:30 I headed over to Rudy's shop and got there shortly before he closed. It was only then that I realized the problem with my plan, or rather, the problem with how I was executing it. I intended to get Rudy hammered and violated by some slutty ladies, but where would the ladies be at 6 o'clock? Not at bars. Not yet. This was the hour at which old couples were eating dinner, or families were playing putt-putt golf. This wasn't the hour of power. I couldn't believe I had overlooked something so crucial to my plan. I had to think quick, because I was walking in the door and walking quickly toward Rudy with purpose. How would I fix this?
        "Hey, buddy," Rudy greeted me. "Listen, I know I said we could grab some drinks when I closed, but I promised Rosalyn we'd go to the Gluttony Gulch tonight for dinner. We have reservations at 7, and I still need to go home to change. But how about afterward? We should be done by 9, and we can meet up then."
        I probably let a smile escape my face, but I tried to not let it show how relieved I was, since some part of me thought Rudy might be suspicious of me. "That's actually perfect," I said. "I've got some things I need to take care of in the meantime, anyway. Just give me a call when you want to meet up."
        "Will do," he said. We both thumbs upped, and bumped our fists together because that was our thing. It started being our thing right then, right there. 
        I thought I'd treat myself to a nice meal out as well, so I went to McDonald's and got some chicken nuggets and flirted with the cashier when I noticed a tattoo on her wrist, which meant she had to be at least 18. She liked my haircut and I asked her why she was working at McDonald's when she had looks that should put her in films. As if my charm wasn't enough, I had just popped a breath mint into my mouth after downing the chicken nuggets, so I smelled like flavor crystals and Sprite, and hardly at all like chicken. She responded positively to my coming onto her, so I thought she might respond just as positively to my coming into her. I saw on her name tag that she was named Margarita. I know what you're thinking: "Margarita. Must be a white girl." Nope, Mexican princess, and with a totally bodacious body and an awesome face, and a smoking hot accent that lit fires inside my abdomen. 
        I could have stood there for days talking to her while the smell of French fries overtook me, and while large women pushed me aside to order $18 worth of food. But it was closing in on  7 o'clock, so I asked Margarita when she got off work, and if she'd like to meet me at my hotel when she was ready. I told her I was from out of town, using the hotel to my advantage. I couldn't look away from her eyes, so while customers ordered food and she looked at her cash register I just stared at here eyes and breasts, and nodded my head in slow motion thinking of the things I could do with her. I may have groaned a little bit, too. As soon as her customers had placed their orders she said she didn't get off until 11. I gave her my number and told her to call me if she wanted to get off when she got off, and also wrote down the name of the hotel and my room number. I gave her a wink + smile combo and walked back to my hotel to wait until Rudy called me for the night to begin. 


        I sat down at a table with Ron Jeremy and began talking about his career and about penises. I asked him if he thought that what he did was art. He said he always thought it was, but that was before seeing the films produced by the famous porn production company Money Shot Films at On Demand Studios, both owned by Money Shot Mason, which made his own performances and abilities seem pathetic by comparison. Ron wasn't too broken up about this, though. He knew competition was important, especially in pornography, and was more than pleased with his long career and even longer penis.  He said that seeing Money Shot's high quality productions like "New Orleans House of Jizz", "JO for JO, Blow for Blow", "Lost in Her Eyes with 69 Guys", and "Desert Vagina, Dessert Vagina" were almost religious experiences that caused him to re-evaluate everything he thought he knew about the business. 
        I admitted that I liked those films, too, and kept asking him questions so I could put off the inevitable task of telling Ron Jeremy that I now had a bigger, more powerful penis than he. I didn't want to crush any more of his spirits after he was already beginning to question his entire career. Didn't want to make him question his penis, too. I was going to ask Ron where the vagina ends and the cervix begins, and if he'd ever broken through the wall, but my phone started to ring.
        "Looks like I have to go, Ron," I said as I picked up my phone. "We'll continue this later." He waved goodbye. 


        I woke up in my hotel room to my cell phone ringing. It was Rudy. I answered, and he said he and Rosalyn had just finished dinner, and he was dropping her off at home and would swing by to pick me up. It was a little before 10 o'clock. This was perfect. I made sure the bag of roofies was in my pocket and I went down to wait in the lobby for my dear friend. 
        Rudy and I went to a pretty busy bar called Mecca Man's Pub, and I immediately ordered three drinks, one for Rudy, one for myself, and one for the first girl I could convince to sit down and talk to us. We were at a table right in the middle of the action, and it'd be hard for us to miss any opportunity. With my moisture missile in my pants giving me extreme confidence and Rudy's ring finger indicating that he was already married, because he's a girl like that, it wasn't long before two drunk girls came to talk to us. I ordered a fourth drink. 
        "Hey ladies, what's happenin'?" I asked with charisma like a snake. I introduced Rudy and myself to the seductive girls.
        "You guys wanna dance?" the blonde one asked. 
        "This man fucking lives for the dance," I said, pointing to Rudy. "Do it!" I yelled at him. 
        He'd only had half of his first drink, and I hadn't had a chance to drug him, so he wasn't ready to make any sweet moves with strange women. 
        "What kind of dance do you live for?" the brunette asked. "Tango?"
        "This man knows them all," I said. I winked at him to let him know I had the dick in my pants right now, and he could use it tonight to fuck these girls. That was a complicated message to send through a single wink, but I think he understood, because he got up to go to the bathroom, which he must have known would leave me the perfect opportunity to drug his drink. 
         I crushed one pill and put half of it into his drink. I quickly got another drink from the bar to put another pill and a half into. The girls didn't notice my smooth moves that probably looked a little like date rape, because they were singing the words to the Bon Jovi song blasting over the speakers and over everyone's voices inside. "Ladies!" I shouted, "you want anymore drinks?" 
        "Hell yeah!" shouted blondie. "Screwdriver!"
        "Long Island!" shouted brunettie. 
        I bought their drinks and one more for myself. 
        Rudy came back to the table and drank his drink a little faster, and began talking to the ladies. I sat back and let enchantment's fingers play puppet master with Rudy and the gals. Before too long, Rudy was showing signs of date rape drug consumption. At that moment I knew I was the best friend he could ask for. As long as I kept the drinks flowing, the two ladies hung around and danced and had a great time with us, probably already wet for Rudy and making waterfalls in anticipation for me. But there would be no me in their threesome. This was all for my friend. "Let's get this show on the road!" I exclaimed, after Rudy had finished a few more drinks. By this, I explained to the ladies that I had a hotel room not far from the bar and we should all go back there. All four of us liked that idea. 
        I let Rudy drunkenly drive us back to the hotel, and made everyone in the car take a drink for every car and pedestrian we bumped into on the way. We got to the hotel and the three of them rushed drunkenly through the lobby, toward the elevator while I took my time like a champ, reflecting on my good Samaritan deeds. I picked up a few drinks at the hotel bar and took them up to my room. Once inside, I took Rudy into the bathroom. By now he was totally down to fuck the lovely ladies in my hotel room, so I removed the penis from myself and handed it to him. "It's not hard to use," I said. "You're a little drunk so it may be tricky at first, but it's really intuitive and natural. Go with it." I left the bathroom to let him put it on and I sat on the bed. I picked up my phone and prepared the video camera. This was going to be incredible. 
        I handed the ladies a few more drinks, and we were all getting sloppy drunk in record time.  Rudy came out of the bathroom wearing only his tight underwear and a bulge that trumpeted the arrival of a king. I could smell the precipitation accumulating on the ladies' undergarments. I hit the record button and my phone began recording this truly monumental occasion. As the two ladies approached Rudy there was a knock on the door. I set the phone on top of the TV and propped it against a book so it could continue filming. I ran to the door and, in an attempt to not ruin this moment, I asked, "Who's there?" through the closed door before opening it.
        "Margarita!" I heard a female voice say. 
        "Fuck yeah, we need some margaritas!" I excitedly yelled. I unlocked the door. "I didn't even remember placing an order for more drinks or telling anyone my room number, but this is great." I threw the door open and there were no margaritas. But there was Margarita, my beautiful McDonald's Mexican, my luscious Latina lust. 
        "You never answered your phone," Margarita said. "I called for an hour! It's midnight!" She then began cursing in Spanish.
        "I'm sorry!" I replied. "I realized I left my phone here in the hotel, and I took my pal out for some... drinks." I looked into the room, and saw that some things were definitely happening. 
        "Did I come at a bad time? Should I come in?" she asked. 
        "Hmm. Please hold on for a second." I closed the door a bit and walked back toward the three fuckers. Quite the fuckers they were. Rudy was showing these ladies the time of their lives, piledriving them into fucktown with every last vibrating, pulsating, pleasure bringing millimeter of the mighty thundercock he wielded so expertly. I was happy to see this and made sure my phone was getting everything. But now I wanted the penis back. I had a sultry and salacious babe waiting at the door for me and I wasn't about to go back to the natural penis in my pants. I needed Phallus Dei more than ever. 
        "Rudy!" I said loudly, to momentarily steal his attention from the ladies. But it was too late. The screaming had begun. The orgasmic slip 'n' slide of moisture and moans and muscle were conglomerating into something of a conglomeration to let me bear witness to the glory of the dick from an outside perspective. I admit it was jaw-dropping, but the mission had been accomplished. Every inch of every body in that room, save for my own, was being violated by a tongue, a hand, a finger, or the magnificent cock of dreams. I backed away slowly, though still entranced by the mesmerizing beauty before me. I left the room and closed the door very quietly behind me.
        "Well?" Margarita asked. "You watch some real primal sounding porn."
        "No, that's not porn," I said. "See, my friend is in there and he's having sex with these two chicks at the same time and it's really something incredible. But I don't want to sit around watching it. You wanna go grab a drink?" 
        "I'm not old enough for bars," she said. 
        "Sure, OK. How about a rain check, then? Tonight is suddenly not working out so well for me."
        "Maybe we could go see a movie," she suggested.
        "At midnight?"
        "There's the two dollar theater, shows films until 2 am."
        "That's a perfect idea," I said. "I love films."


CHAPTER FOUR.
        When Margarita and I returned to the hotel after the movie it was about 3 o'clock in the morning. I opened the door to the room very slowly and carefully. Immediately we were hit all over by high levels of humidity caused by the love juices of the three fornicators, but I held my hand over Margarita's mouth so she wouldn't make a sound, and because I wanted to feel her big, Mexican lips on my palm. The lights were off so we tip-toed slowly over the damp carpet. I saw my cell phone still propped up against the  book on top of the TV, but its battery had died. I stuffed it into my pocket and walked over to the bed with Margarita. Rudy was naked, lying on his stomach and the two girls were gone. He was unconscious so I dragged him into the bathroom to remove the penis from his body. 
        I slipped the penis onto myself and dumped Rudy into the bathtub with some warm water about an inch deep so he would stay comfortable. I walked out of the bathroom to find Margarita looking for a spot on the bed that wasn't wet. She was out of luck because that room would be wet for many hours. Soon, she wouldn't even notice or care, because I was going to blow her body and mind with my rocket of nuclear powered intercourse. 
        We started slow, with kissing that matured into French kissing, and petting that grew into caressing and massaging and groping. Soon, items of clothing were being removed, our senses were enhanced, and stimulation took control of our minds and nerves, and we bathed together in torrid pleasures of the flesh. We 69'd for a good ten minutes, and she was sweating and moaning, pleading, begging, ready for more. I flipped her over on the bed, and pierced her caverns with Phallus Dei, sending us past the point of no return. Her muscles tensed while I pumped her full of love and sweet dream sequences, and did the same to her other welcoming holes after her breathless requests. I poured Chambord into her mouth, and moments later she let it burst from her bottom cavity, all over my conquering cock. She sucked it off and spit it into my mouth, and we sledgehammered our way to the core of sexual being. Earthquakes began, hurricanes rolled in, tornadoes touched down, and lightning filled our senses as we flopped from place to place in the hotel room. We both screamed to the heavens as angels and demons massaged our essences. 


        When we both awoke hours later, the room was still damp with our love. The walls were showing signs of wear and tear. The carpet was ripped up. Our bodies were sore. We lied there silently and motionless for a good half hour while we tried to compose ourselves.
        "Oh my god," Margarita said, finally.
        "Did you sleep well?" I asked. 
        "I don't even care," she replied. "That was... quite a night. I hate to do this, but I really need to go. My parents have probably realized by now that I didn't come home last night. I'll be grounded when I get home."
        "Grounded? Really?" I was confused. "You still live with your parents?"
        "I'm only 16, so yeah, I live with my parents."
        Things sort of went black for a moment, and I could feel my heart try to murder itself while my brain tried to rationalize and make sense of the situation. In one night I had helped two girls I didn't know commit date rape on my best friend, and then, only hours later, I committed statutory rape in the same bed. Quite a remarkable feat, I thought. 
        "Yes, you really should get home," I said. "Probably not a good idea to tell them where you were, last night."
        "I'll just say I was at my boyfriend Pedro Juan Gonzalez Hernandez's house. They won't care, they like him."
        I cleared my throat and replied, "yes. Yes. Yes, do that."
        She rolled out of bed and battled her sore muscles while putting her clothes back on. She gave me a kiss on the lips that I took the liberty of transforming into a french kiss. I smacked her on the ass and she walked out the door. 
        I went into the bathroom to relieve myself and found Rudy still lying in the bathtub, but now there was puke floating in the water with him and he was awake. 
        "Hey buddy," he said with a hoarse voice.
        "How you doin?" I asked. "You alright?"
        "Never better. What happened last night? I don't remember anything."
        "We went to that bar after your dinner with Rosalyn, remember?"
        "Fuck. Rosalyn. Does she know where I am? Where am I?"
        "You're in my hotel."
        "You mean your hotel room."
        "Right."
        "What happened at the bar? I really don't remember anything."
        "Not much. You just had way too much to drink. You were the life of the whole place, though! Girls couldn't keep their hands off you, but I was like, "ladies! He's gonna be married soon! He can't do that with you! No! He can't touch you there! Stop showing him your boobs! He doesn't want that vagina!" and stuff like that."
        "Really? Haha. Thanks, though. I could have gotten into some trouble last night. I feel so drained, and just... like I've been sucked dry."
        "OH, no. No sucking last night. No, no, no. You've just been drained of vomit, that's all. That's what's floating in the tub with you."
        "Smells like it."
        "Yeah. You wanna take a shower or something?"
        Rudy looked himself over for a good minute and then decided it was probably a good idea to do that. "Yeah, I think a shower is nice."


        Later that day I visited Rudy at his shop, which he opened rather late. "Man, I bet Rosalyn was pissed when you went home today! Haha!"
        "Nah, she didn't mind," he said. "She understood. Hell, when I told her I was hanging out with you she said she didn't expect me to stay sober for long, and wouldn't be surprised if I crashed at your place."
        "You're kidding."
        "Nope. She wasn't upset at all."
        It was alright. I had video proof that Rudy had fucked two girls all night long. All I had to do was show it to Rosalyn and she'd leave Rudy and I'd have my best friend back. "Rudy, where do you think Rosalyn is right now?" 
        "She's at home right now working on wedding invitations. We decided to do hand made invitations to make it more personal. It's really time consuming, but what a great idea, right?"
        "The best. I'm gonna get out of here now and go sit around in places, doing things. You  know, the normal routine." It was time for me to do what needed to be done.
        "Alright, pal," Rudy said. "See you tomorrow."
        "As a single man," I said, under my breath.
        "What?" he asked.
        "Nothing."


CHAPTER FIVE.
        I rushed over to Rudy's house with my phone in my pocket. It was a neat, big house of stone and brick, and had plenty of trees in the front yard. I thought that was nice. I knocked on the front door and Rosalyn answered, acting like she was excited to see me.
        "Hey!" she said excitedly. "What a pleasant surprise! Come on inside!"
        I was already getting sick of her attitude. "Hi Rosalyn," I tried to be cordial, though I don't know how well I faked it. 
        "So what brings you over here on this lovely day?" she asked, with a very chipper and upbeat tone to her voice, and a slippery, blue raspberry Jolly Rancher swirling in her mouth, sumo wrestling with her bitch-tongue. 
        "Rosalyn, you know I've always respected you with immeasurable amounts of respect, right?"
        "Haha," she laughed. "Sure, I knew that. You're very sweet."
        "I've been so excited for you and Rudy to get married, you know. It's all I talk about when I go visit him at the shop. He says you guys are making custom invitations, personalized, from yourselves. I just think that's adorable."
        "It was my idea," Rosalyn said. "We've finished about a third of them."
        "I just can't wait to see them," I said. "But listen, I came here for a reason. Last night Rudy and I went out to get some drinks, as I'm sure you're aware."
        "Oh yes," she giggled. "Rudy came home today so very hungover. You guys really lived it up last night, didn't you?"
        "Yes, we sure did. That's what I wanted to talk to you about." I pulled out my cell phone. "Last night Rudy had a lot to drink. I mean a hell of a lot. He was a wild man." 
        And then I paused. I saw what was about to happen and caught myself. What was I doing? I was about to ruin my best friend's life just because I didn't want to see him get married. I couldn't go through with it. I realized I was being selfish. This entire operation was based on my sick and twisted desires to get Rudy to not marry Rosalyn, and for what reason? So I wouldn't have to feel like Rudy was better than me? I was pathetic. I excused myself, and left their home.
       No. That didn't happen. I pulled open the video on my cell phone and handed it to Rosalyn. "I knew you wouldn't believe what I'm about to tell you, because Rudy's such a stand up fellow, so I got video evidence to show you... this." I hit play and let Rosalyn watch the video. 
       She watched while she held the phone in one hand, and put her other hand over her mouth like women do when they're seeing or hearing something that is just too shocking for their mouth to be exposed to. 
       "We met these girls at the bar, and they were really friendly to Rudy and me. After we drank too much, Rudy was like, "let's drunk drive back to the hotel with these girls, because we can't go to my house because Rosalyn is there making wedding invitations!" I wasn't so sure I liked the sound of that. I told him, "Rudy, dude, you gotta go home to Rosalyn. She loves you and you probably love her, and these girls - these girls just aren't your type, man!" But he wasn't having it. Rudy insisted we go back to the hotel, and I agreed only because I didn't see any way out of this mess. So we get there and almost right away this starts to happen." I pointed to the cell phone. 
       She was still watching the video, speechless. Speechlessness... Maybe that's why they hold their hands over their mouths. Women want to show that "there are no words...". Her eyes said what her mouth wasn't: "I am so angry at Rudy and I want to murder him with knives. This wedding is canceled!"   
        But when she gave her mouth a moment to speak, that's not what she said at all. "I don't think that's Rudy. I know his penis because we get very intimate sometimes, and that's not it. The rest looks like it could be him, but the picture quality is so grainy that it's really hard to say."
        I didn't appreciate her insulting the quality of my cell phone's video taking capabilities. "It's 9 megapixels," I said. "I'm sure that's enough to at least make out his face."
        "And those sex moves," she said with awe in her voice. "He's never done anything like... that. Wow... I'm really, very impressed and even a little turned on by this. But Rudy doesn't know how to do those things. I would know if he's capable. I don't think he is."
        "He's fully capable!" I shouted. "Look! It's right there on the phone! He's fucking two very beautiful girls who are not you!"
        "I'm sorry, I just don't buy it." She wasn't buying it. "Rudy wouldn't do that, no matter how drunk he thinks he is. We're in love. Don't you know anything about love?"   
        "I know everything about love, Rosalyn," I said. "I advise Rudy on love every day. You know those sweet and tender things he says to you? Those are my lines. I feed them to him." Plan A was failing, which was surprising. In any healthy relationship it seems it would work really well. What Rudy and Rosalyn had was a little harder to break down. If video evidence of Rudy cheating wasn't going to convince her then I had to resort to plan B. And I would make no mistake. It would be very clear that the woman in my cell phone video that I was fucking would be Rosalyn.
        "I do appreciate your concern, though," Rosalyn said sympathetically. "But either you're trying to trick me, or you've mixed up someone else for Rudy. You were drunk, so you probably stumbled into the wrong hotel room last night and imagined it was Rudy and two girls. It was just two girls, one stud."
        I knew what had to be done. Plan B was me fucking Rosalyn, filming it, and showing it to Rudy. He'd be so angry. He'd leave her and we'd stay best friends until we died.  "Anything short of her cheating on me is something we could work through," he had said. I had Phallus Dei in my pants, and it looked like the time had come to use it on the enemy. 
        "Rosalyn, my dear," I began. "The real reason I'm here, and the real reason I showed you that video is because I... want... to make love with you. Now. The man in the video was me, and Rudy filmed it and wanted me to show you, as a demonstration of my ability. He sent me here today as a gift to you. He wanted you to have one more wild fuck before you were both married and unavailable for true sexual pleasure." My guts churned with fire and lava.
        "Haha, you're so funny," she replied. "If Rudy knew you were here now, saying this, he'd get a real kick out of it, too."
        "I'm sure he would." I didn't have time for her games and batshit cunt war diatribes. "You said the performance in the video turned you on a little. Guess what. That was me turning you on a little. How do you feel about that? How would you like to be turned on a little more?"
        "You're going to be such a breath of fresh air at our wedding! I'm glad you'll be able to make people laugh," she said.
        Fucking bitch wasn't caving. I knew what I had to do. I took off my shirt.
        "What are you doing?" she asked, surprised and looking a little uncomfortable. "You're not serious, are you?"
        I'm doing this for you," I said. I threw the shirt toward her and removed my belt as I slowly walked in her direction.
        She backed up, and said, "I think you should leave now."
        "I thought you might say that," I said. I pulled my pants down, and removed my underwear. 
        Rosalyn's anxiety and worry quickly transformed into a trance, and she ceased backing away from me. Her fixation was no longer upon the situation but upon the majestic phallus I presented before her. Here eyes were glued to me, and once more her hand moved to her mouth as she signaled her inability to speak. I stood in front of her, naked, presenting myself as a treat for her to taste. She was helpless to resist the fusion of lust and the forbidden. For now, the forbidden became accessible, and she wanted it. 
        Slowly, Rosalyn approached me. I stretched my arms out to greet her until she finally came into my embrace. Her body felt heavenly against mine, and as we kissed she undressed herself and my hands found their way across her skin. Her breasts and her hips were just as terrific as Rudy had said. Her lips were the same. The rest of her was phenomenal, as well. The magnificent phallic overlord rose to the occasion and entered the woman who was to marry my best friend. For the next 2 hours we fornicated gently, brutally, hypnotically, deliciously, all over the home. Waves of empyrean wind molested us as we united in sexual congress, shagging on the shag carpet, getting wet on the water bed, nailing hard on the bed of nails, having a roll in the hay in the stacks of hay, bringing the wood to the whore on the wooden floor, ramming the phallic sword into the whispering eye, on beds, tables and couches, and outside underneath the sky...
        Rosalyn screamed my name thousands of times, each syllable elongated and squealed to a piercing pitch, her voice rumbling with the thunder of the deity that vibrated within her. Penetration pushed us toward divinity. We conquered one another and caused time to bleed and space to cum. All forces of nature unified in our presence, and galaxies shifted their tilts. Ancient, dead kings resting in their tombs cried out as one, heralding our triumph and announcing the age of aquarius as defined by Rosalyn's and my breathtaking sexual rapture. There was no turning back. We were on a voyage to the center of the universe.
        Rosalyn's blue raspberry Jolly Rancher ended up in my mouth, and incidentally, inside of her vagina, soaking in the sweet oasis of total cervixtude. The pillaging of desires finished in a supernova. The outside was obliterated, and the inside of the home was devastated. Both of us lied paralyzed in puddles of pleasure fluids. Movement was not an option. It was while lying motionless that I remembered I forgot to record any of the sexual carnage that had just taken place. My phone was somewhere in the house, wherever Rosalyn had dropped it. I was too weak to do anything about it except sigh a little bit. As it turned out, though, the video wasn't necessary. 
        After she recovered enough strength, Rosalyn looked over to me and said, "I am leaving Rudy. I want to be with you. I want you to take me like that every day, every night, and fuck me into oblivion until I can no longer walk, or see, or hear, or feel, or taste, or smell, or speak. I want everything that you just gave me, because you just gave me the universe."
        I didn't know what to say, although I thought this development could work to my advantage. If I could play along long enough to get her to leave Rudy I would be able to dump her as soon as she dumped him, and Rudy and I could be two cool bachelors again, high-fiving all the time. 
        I didn't have to wait long for this series of events to unfold, because Rudy walked in the door while Rosalyn and I were lying naked on the floor, and the humidity hit him hard in the face, the skin, all over his body. He looked at the two of us and stood frozen in the doorway. 
        "W-what..." he muttered. "What happened? Oh my god. What is this?" He couldn't say much else. He looked at the penis I was wearing. He knew.
       I didn't know what to do but Rosalyn seemed to have an idea of her own. "Rudy, I'm leaving you. We just fucked in a way beyond anything I've ever experienced. I think we explored all of space and time with the love we just made." She looked at me and smiled.
        Rudy's face looked pretty broken up and furious about the whole thing. I could understand that. His cunt of a fiancee had just cheated on him in his own house. The heartless bitch was just lying there, in front of him, naked and soaked, and couldn't even stand up to face him. Observing this all from my own spot on the floor, I tried to sit up but to no avail. 
        "Rudy, I know this looks bad," I said. "But I told you she was a whore, and a slut, and stuff like that. See what she did to you!?"
        He walked over to me and looked like he was about to smash my skull into the shag carpet. Instead he knelt down next to me. He took the penis off of me. 
        "Rudy..." I said. "Stop. What are you.. quit it."
        Rosalyn was still lying down.
        "I can fuck you just the same, Rudy said to Rosalyn, as he strapped the dick to himself. 
       "Hmm," I let out an audible note of uncertainty.
       Rosalyn looked at him with eyes perplexed by godless confusion. "No one can fuck me like that," she said, still catching her breath.    
        "I'll show you," Rudy said. He then proceeded to do just that. Rosalyn was still weak, and lied motionless on the ground, but Rudy was a mythical beast of sexual energy, going at it like a Nordic god fucking in old poetry from the cold lands. I had nothing else going on, so I watched it all. Similar fissures in the essence of reality opened up during their fornication, and I suffered the tempests of their orgasmic adventures. Mountains of lust rose up around us, and I laid silent while their voyage to the ends of the cosmos was underway. 
        Hours later they were finished, and Rosalyn fainted from exhaustion and dehydration. Rudy and I, both lying in separate areas of the floor, talked a little bit.
        "I don't like what you did to Rosalyn," he said, as soon as he could speak again. "But I understand why you did it."
        I nodded.
        "Still," he went on, "I'm going to knock you the fuck out when you can move again. That's some low shit."
        "I guess I deserve it," I said. "I just want what's best for you."
        "And before I knock you out..." He didn't finish his sentence. He slowly pulled himself to his hands and knees and crawled toward me. 
        "What are you doing?" I asked.
        He didn't answer, but made eye contact with me until he was above me. 
        "Rudy?" 
        He flipped me over, onto my stomach. 
        "Rudy! Let's talk about this. I wouldn't - hmmph!"
        Phallus Dei entered my anus and immediately tore my flesh asunder. I was finally on the receiving end of the bringer of dreams. Rudy used what energy he had left and injected me with the incredible flesh machine's divine deliverance. I screamed, first in pain and then, very shortly after, in pleasure. My vision went to a series of hallucinations and my soul stood erect. The insides of my body had never been explored by another person, and here was my best friend acting as a true trailblazer on the frontier. It was a little bit embarrassing. Rudy's low energy levels meant it couldn't last long. Before I knew it, the rapids of pain and pleasure ended. Phallus Dei was removed from me, and I flipped back onto my back. I'd been given a small taste of the devil's tongue and I couldn't help but like it. I'd never have told Rudy, though. He probably wanted me to hate it and to fear and respect the power of Phallus Dei. There was no mistaking the forces at work here. I had always respected the Phallus, but never would I fear it.
      Rudy crawled away and collapsed by Rosalyn. For a moment we were both silent. Then we acted as if nothing had happened. We sat there and chatted for a good hour, never once mentioning the time he had awkwardly raped me in his house after I took his wife to pleasure town. I regained muscle control first, and stood up and went to the kitchen, still talking to Rudy as I whipped up some eggs and toast for the three of us. The sex brought by Phallus Dei creates a monstrous hunger in those who feel its power. 
        As Rudy regained strength, Rosalyn awoke from her sex-induced paralysis. "Rudy," she said. "I love you, still. I didn't know you could fuck me like that." They kissed for a little bit, and then walked into the kitchen. Rudy showed Rosalyn the mythical penis that he wore, and explained it to her.
        "My love," he said. "It is not me you now love, nor is it my friend. It is, in fact, this penis that has command over your heart. This is Phallus Dei, and it was given to us by an old man a few days ago."
        I thought I'd chime in. "I tried to use this power for selfish purposes, to ruin your marriage. For this, I am sorry. I haven't wielded this power responsibly, and Rudy really taught me a good lesson while you were unconscious. Live by the sword, die by the sword. I know it's a dangerous weapon, but I'm not mature enough to give it up. Here, eat these eggs and this toast before it gets cold."
       Then Rudy remembered his promise to me and punched me in the face with both fists, knocking me out cold.
       I woke up in a few moments with an ice-pack against my head that Rudy was holding. He apologized, and handed me a plate of eggs and toast, and a moist fragment of a blue Jolly Rancher. We ate, and discussed the penis at length, long into the night. 
         We cleaned up the mess and destruction the three of us had caused inside and outside the house, giving Rudy and Rosalyn time to work together again, like soul mates working on a relationship that had hit hard times that was no one's fault but their own. They didn't call off the wedding, but Rudy insisted that I let him borrow the penis whenever he wanted it. Since I felt like I kind of did a bad thing (fucking his fiancee, and maybe drugging him for a date rape), I agreed to this deal. The interesting thing was that he said in exchange for this he would let me fuck Rosalyn whenever I wanted to. I said that was awfully nice of him. Rosalyn, feeling like quite the generous girl herself, told Rudy he could fuck whoever he wanted to as long as he was wearing the Phallus Dei. We all agreed it didn't really count as cheating, since it wouldn't be his penis. This was the same rationale he used to justify me fucking his wife - as long as I used the penis, it didn't count. 
        "I wish there was a vagina like this out there, for me! The Yonic Dea!" Rosalyn joked. Rudy and I laughed, but my laugh was not genuine. I hated jokes. However, I was starting to hate Rosalyn a little less. Phallus Dei had brought us closer.
        Things were back to normal, and probably better than ever. Rudy and Rosalyn got married five months later, and I went to the wedding with the penis tucked into my pants. After the reception, I invited a few of Rosalyn's female friends over to my hotel room, but Rudy and Rosalyn had a better idea. They invited me and the ladies to their house so we could all enjoy the pleasures of the Penile Entity together. It was a difficult experience at first, Rudy and I having to trade the penis back and forth when we needed it most, but it paid off wonderfully, bringing to the house an orgiastic Armageddon. We each fell asleep that night, this time on beds instead of floors, sleeping deep through the storms outside that always followed the call of Phallus Dei. 


        I sat back down with Ron Jeremy at a table with an umbrella on the beach. We could now continue our conversation. I asked Ron if he'd ever penetrated the cervix with his rod, and he said that had, more than a handful of times. 
        "Ron," I said. "The reason I ask is because up until about half a year ago, I had always thought the vagina could go on forever. It was a mystery abyss to me, a place where dreams are held, and where dreams can die. It's dark in there and I'd never seen the end of the tunnel. But something very wonderful happened to me five months ago. I was gifted a weapon of pleasure, a sexual treasure, from a mysterious person who I've not seen since. I don't know where it came from but I know what it is able to do. I've been using this thing, this godlike sex organ, ever since. I've seen your films, Ron. I've admired your talent, I've acknowledged your endowment, but I have to tell you..." I stood up and pulled down my pants. "I am now the bigger man."
        Ron pulled his sunglasses down so he could gaze upon this holy item with his own eyes. His hand covered his speechless mouth and he nodded a couple of times. He smiled and shook my hand. Ron called off into the distance, getting the attention of a man who he told to rush over to us. The man came over and Ron introduced him as Pierre Woodman, the great French pornmaster, and told me to show him my member. I did, and was met with applause. Not merely the applause of the two pornographic filmmakers, but everyone else on the beach. I looked around me at hundreds of people who had gathered and who were staring in awe at my gift. Ron explained that with great power comes great responsibility. I admitted that I hadn't always acted responsibly or wisely with this power, but I had seen the light, and had felt the thunder way down under. I was now going to use Phallus Dei for peace, not for war. I would use it for truth, not for lies and falsities. Regarding this item of great worth perhaps immeasurable in simple human values, I explained to Ron and Pierre and those at the beach that my friend and I would use this power to set the world straight. To bring pleasure where there is none. We would bring happiness where there is sorrow. We would shine light where there is only darkness. We would fight hatred with love. We would fight disgust with lust. All people would know the glory of the Phallus, and we would ring in a new age where taboo would no longer be taboo, and the Earth would shine across the universe as a beacon of sexual liberty.
        A band of minstrels began playing as I finished talking, and Pierre shook my hand and  sat down with Ron and me. Out of the crowd of people came a familiar face. Rudy walked up and sat with us at the table. He was carrying two large tunas he had apparently just caught. He set them on the table and pulled out a bag of fresh raspberries to share. We each took a few to chew on while the stench of tuna forced itself upon us.
        I introduced Rudy to Ron and Pierre as the friend I had just spoken of, and pulled out four cigars. We each smoked a cigar and spoke highly of the women on the beach that day. The sun felt good, and the light breeze from the ocean was just right. The sand in our toes was warm and comfortable.