Bank Dick

I arrived for my interview five minutes early. The receptionist, James Bolton according to his desk nameplate, buzzed his boss, and I was ushered in to see her with no waiting. The plaque on her door read: "Melanie McCoy, Vice President of Customer Relations".

"Take messages for all my calls, Jimmy."

"Certainly, anything else, coffee?"

"No, Jimmy, thank you." She followed him to the door, locking it after him. Melanie stood about five-six, early thirties, light skin, on the slim side, small features, hazel eyes, and red hair that she parted in the middle and wore in a page boy. She wore a business suit with a loose A line skirt that stopped just below her knees. The light green color complemented her hair and eyes. She wheeled a portable clothes rack from a closet and sat back behind her high tech desk, opening a folder containing my application. I could see my name, Richard Dane, on the label of the folder.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Dane, and although it wasn't necessary, thank you for wearing a suit."

"I want this job. The work sounds interesting and it pays well. And please call me Dick."

"Okay, Dick, let's be informal. Call me Mel. Your application and photos seem to be what we're looking for. Take off all your clothes and let's see what we have to work with."

With shoes, socks, tie, shirt, and suit neatly hung on the rack, I stood in the only underwear I ever wore, a pair of Jockey briefs, the color of the day being light blue. She looked at them and smiled.

"What, the color is funny?"

"No, I like the color. I was just playing a girl's guessing game, boxers or briefs. I guessed right."

"There's really no choice. Boxers just won't do the job."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"I'll show you." I hooked my thumbs in the waist band and slipped off my briefs. When my package was revealed, I heard a surprised laugh. I looked up at her and saw that she had covered her mouth with her hand to stifle further laughter, had lowered her eyes, and was blushing.

"I...I'm so sorry," she stuttered. "I don't mean to make fun of you. It's just that you have the smallest penis I've ever seen on a man. And in contrast, you have the biggest testicles I've ever seen. The combination just looks funny. I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's okay. Don't be embarrassed. I'm not. You're not the first to find me amusing. I'm sure I've caused many inner gleeful laughs from other males in locker rooms and showers."

"Guys really do that, check each other out? I'd like to see that." She'd regained her composure.

"Oh yeah, but not by barking out a laugh and turning beet red. Furtive glances usually. It doesn't bother me. In those situations we are all flaccid, so it doesn't mean much. Erection makes everyone about the same." She raised her left eyebrow.

"Well maybe so," she said with a little smile. "I'll have to introduce you to my husband sometime." She got back to business and opened my folder to look at my photos. The application had required front and side view color photos with a full erection. Mel was looking first at my small cock, its shrivel of foreskin ending before my ball sack barely got started, and then looking at my photos, shaking her head, probably thinking "false advertising". She put the photos down and removed a tailor's tape measure from a drawer, then came around her desk and knelt in front of me. The tape was made of some non-stretching synthetic and had precise markings in inches and centimeters. She unrolled it and measured down the front of my cock.

"Well, not counting the raisin at the tip, you've got an inch and three quarters. That's got to be a record dick, Dick." She seemed pissed at me for wasting her time. She threw the tape on the desk and wheeled an armless, backless chair to the front of her desk, adjusting its height to a few inches less than the height of the desk. She kicked off her pumps and sat on the desk facing me. She propped her feet on the stool, spread her legs wide, and pulled her skirt up tucking it in the waistband to hold it up and free her hands. Mel wore no hose nor panties. Her pussy spread open for my enjoyment and stimulation. The hair along the sides of her outer lips was trimmed short, but on her mound grew a lush bush of reddish brown, curly pussy hair. A real redhead. Her bigger lips were white like her flawless thighs. Her inner lips and her meat in between were a light pink, glistening with a thin sheen of pussy juice. She wet her fingers in her mouth and started stroking up and down her inner lips and rubbing gentle circles on the skin covering her clit. At the same time, she flexed her fuck muscles, making her cunt opening wink at me.

The air circulation in the room must have been from her toward me. I couldn't smell any perfume, but I did whiff a fragrance much more powerful; the clean, heady aroma of a highly sexed woman's fully aroused pussy. I felt my cock stretch and thicken as it engorged with blood. My heart didn't have to pump more than ten times to give me a full hard on. Mel no longer looked pissed as she stared at my erection. Now she looked surprised. She picked up the photos and compared them to real meat and blood, shaking her head, "I guess you never can tell."

Mel kicked the chair away, pulled down her skirt, and put her shoes back on. She got a palm computer from her desk, retrieved the tape measure, and knelt before me again. Placing her tools on the floor, she massaged my balls, rolling them around in my bag to feel their size, and gently bouncing them to appreciate their weight. She smiled up at me, "With balls as big and hard as these, you should go into the sperm business. You'd be a millionaire."

I smiled back, "Sounds like a great business idea, provided I got to make direct deposits into my customer's cunt. Unfortunately, there's no market. Too much free product. But now you know why briefs instead of boxers."

"Well, I guess so! My god, they're as big as kiwi fruit! You must be very proud of them."

"It's love/hate. I like it when you get wet from playing with them, even more when you make me pump their cum deep into you, but the rest of the time, packing them around is just a hassle. It's almost like a woman with big tits, except she gets to show hers off. If I did that, I'd get arrested."

"Enough admiration. Let's get you measured and fitted." I wasn't sure what "fitted" meant, but thought it might be fun finding out.

My erection had caused the foreskin to partly retract, exposing the mouth and lips along with half the head. Mel expertly peeled me, snapping the skin behind my shiny, purple acorn. She measured along the top of my cock and entered five and a half inches into her little computer. She then slipped the skin back over the head, gripped my shaft firmly in her fist, and stroked me, building up speed until my cockhead was a blur as it popped in and out of her tight fist. She released me from her grip leaving me once again peeled. My cock jumped closer to my stomach, becoming slightly longer, thicker, and harder. Mel re-measured and punched five and three quarters inches into the keypad. She kept jacking and measuring me until she had entered all my dimensions.

"Well, what's the verdict? Am I qualified?"

"You've got a nice cock. You're prow shaped, so even though you're under six inches dorsally, your bottom tube is almost seven inches from your balls to the lips of your cockhead. He's a thick little guy; over two inches wide and almost six inches around. And once I got his attention, he got very hard. I also like the widely flared, elongated head. Personally, I think the light brown color of your shaft is exotic. My hubby's is white. So, in a nutshell, pardon the pun, yes, you may be what we're looking for. Of course, I'll have to test it to know for sure." Test it?

"What was all the precise measuring for?"

"Oh, well you know you'll have to wear a condom?"

"Yes, of course."

"You'll like them. We have them custom made to exactly fit your erection. They're like a second skin. You'll hardly know you're wearing one. They're made of a new polymer, clear, ultra thin, and completely odorless. No latex smell." She pointed to the port where she had plugged in the hand computer. "They're being molded for you right now as we speak." *

I had seen the ad in Wild Side magazine. It specified: (1) heterosexual male (2) penis five to six inches when fully erect, measured dorsally, girth of four to five inches, uncut (3)and in bold print, must be capable of satisfying five women per day, mounting them from the rear(doggy style), without coming. The pay promised was $500 per day, three days per week. I applied immediately. Except for my erection being slightly too thick, I qualified. I liked all kinds of women and loved pumping their cunts while I admired their asses. And for some reason, I had complete cum control when giving doggy. I'd plowed a lot of pussy from the rear and knew I could keep my sperm percolating in my balls until I gave my cock the green flag to squirt cum into a cunt. I'd even taught myself to have several mini-comes while holding my semen, oozing out clear precum until my cock and balls felt like they were ready to burst if I didn't finally shoot my thick, white load. I'm a natural for a job as a dogolo.

Melanie explained that it had all started over lunch with a friend, who also happened to be one of the bank's customers. They got to talking about sex and her friend confided that she liked to be fucked from the back, but that her husband wasn't capable of controlling himself long enough for her to thoroughly enjoy it. "I wish I could find a stranger to service me," she had lamented. After lunch, back at her desk, Melanie wondered if perhaps her friend's wish was not unique. Maybe there was a wider interest out there. So she discreetly surveyed her female bank customers, promising anonymity. And yes, there was quite a large interest out there. The only problem was she couldn't ask a man to service strangers for free without getting to shoot his load. And women were uncomfortable paying for sex. Deeply ingrained in the female psyche was the fact that they controlled heterosexual males access to sex. Men pay for it, women never. Always been that way, always will be. End of story.

*

"So that's when I got my bank machine idea. What if a woman could tell herself she was just using a unique type of bank machine while a stud serviced her from the rear. Let me show you." She led me into a small room where one wall contained a bank machine of sorts. It had no slot for a bank card, but did have the usual small drawer to dispense cash. A large screen TV took up most of the space. Below it was the standard numerical keypad. Also below the screen were arrayed a row of buttons labeled front, rear, side, top, bottom, and zoom. In front of the screen stood a well upholstered, firm bench, adjustable for height.

"The way it works is the customer gets on the bench on her hands and knees and enters the amount of cash she wants while you give her stud from behind. Notice there's no slot for a bankcard." I nodded and waited for her to go on. "What we've done is voice print each client's unique sounds she makes while coming, be they soft cries, guttural grunts, even if she screams like a banshee. The walls are sound proof. When she's satisfied that she's had her cunt well and truly reamed, she signals you and you finger her clit while continuing to plow her pussy with your hard cock until she comes. Bingo, her cash pops out, $100 is transferred from her account to yours, she gets dressed and goes shopping, you rest, get the blood circulating in your tool, and wait for your next customer. Questions?"

"Well, yes several."

"Shoot."

"I've fucked a lot of women and know that a considerable number of them make no noise whatsoever when they come. What about them?"

"Ah, we've thought of that." She led me back to her office. I sat in the side chair. She corrected me, "No, you'll have to stand up." I stood in front of the desk facing the door. She removed a small, gold chain bracelet from a desk drawer, then came around and knelt before me. She opened the clasp, wrapped the bracelet around the top of my ball pouch, and closed the clasp. She couldn't resist playing with my big balls and rolled them around in their bag and licked my cockhead as I continued my questions.

"And how did you arrive at the cock size?" I asked.

"That's what our customers wanted. We had them sample dildos from four to eight inches long and with girths varying from three to six inches." She wrapped her fingers around my shaft and squeezed as she continued, "You're a little too thick, but I'll bet no one will notice. This little fucker is hard, but not as hard as a dildo." She tried to get both my balls in her mouth, but finally gave up and enclosed one at a time behind her lips and massaged each with her tongue.

"So did your women request an uncut cock?"

She slipped my left ball out of her mouth and replied, "No, they didn't care one way or the other. It was my personal preference. I've found that a cut cock seems to have tougher skin on the head from the constant friction with clothing. A man with a cockhead that's protected except for when it's getting and giving pleasure has soft, velvety skin. I just think it feels better when he slips it into me. By the way, did you know your left ball is slightly bigger than your right. Is it because you pump more sperm from your right? Or do they alternate like my egg makers?"

"No, I think they work as a team. Just before my cock jets, sperm is pumped from both simultaneously to mix in my cum. I don't know why my left is bigger. Probably for the same reason some people have brown eyes and others blue. Anyway, what's the purpose of the little ball necklace?"

"Ah yes, the silent comers. You see there's an electronic motion sensor in the bracelet. When you fuck, be it fast or slowly, it senses the to and fro movement of your balls. I got the idea from that." She pointed to one of those office toys that is a series of hanging steel balls. When you pull one of them out and release it, it transfers the energy through all of them, making the one on the opposite side swing out.

"Okay, go on."

"Well, say you've mounted her and ridden her until she's ready to come, get her money, and go shopping. She'll signal you in a prearranged way that she's ready to come, and you'll touch her exactly as she wants to be touched. You'll feel her clit throbbing, and if she's tight enough, you'll feel her cunt milking your cock. You keep pumping her with your hard cock until she's completely done coming, then you ram your cock in all the way and stop moving. The sensor in the bracelet detects that your balls have stopped swinging. After five seconds of no motion, it sends an electronic signal for the bank machine to operate. Presto! She goes to the mall with a tingle between her legs and a sly smile on her face. You get a larger bank account and a much smaller cock with fresh blood coursing through it."

"I'm impressed, Mel. You really put the relations in customer relations."

"Speaking of custom, your custom molded raincoats should be here soon, and you can try one on and model it for me." As if on command, the intercom buzzed. She gave my balls a final bounce, kissed my cock, and answered the intercom.

"Your package has arrived, Ms. McCoy."

"Okay Jimmy. Put the phones on VoiceMail and bring it to the door. I'll meet you there." She crossed to the door, unlocked it, and because I was nude, opened it just enough to let Jimmy slip through. She re-locked the door, put the package down, and motioned him to the side of her desk.

Jimmy didn't seem surprised to see me naked. He probably knew all about the new service. He gave my equipment the usual furtive glance and awaited his boss's next command. No doubt, having sized me up, he felt better about himself.

"Take off your clothes, Jimmy. I want to conduct a little experiment." He did as ordered, finally draping his boxer shorts on the back of the side chair. My cock had relaxed and shrunk to about two and a half inches, with the skin slipping down and covering most of the head. Jimmy was also limp and as we checked each other out, he had that smug look I'd seen a thousand times at urinals and in locker rooms and communal showers. Mel took her tape measure and sized along the front of his cock. "Let's see, four inches. Is that as small as it gets?" Jimmy nodded slowly. "Well, Dick here can shrink his down to an inch and three quarters." As she said this, she glanced at both of us to see where we were looking, and for changes in our expressions. Jimmy glanced at my cock, then back at her with a smirk.

She turned him side to me to give me a good view. Still kneeling in front of him, Mel grasped his shaft and brought it to her lips. She licked the head all over, slid it into her mouth, and alternately sucked and tongued him. Jimmy's cock stiffened quickly and Mel fisted his shaft and jacked him while slipping his cockhead in and out of her mouth, using her lips as a substitute cunt. His full erection stood up at a sharp, youthful angle. He was cut and his dark pink cockhead was about he same width as his white shaft. He was longer and thinner than me. Mel measured his hard on. "About six and a half inches along the top and three inches around. That's pretty good, Jimmy. From four inches to six and a half is a sixty per cent increase in length." She pointed to me, and in a lilting voice, teased, "Now Dick here, can change from an inch and three quarters to five and three quarters; an amazing three hundred per cent increase. And he swells to almost six inches of thick, cunt stretching cock.

Watching the cocksucking had made me hard and peeled me, displaying my flared cockhead. As Jimmy looked at my tools, his eyes widened and the smirk was gone. In contrast to his ruler straight, chalk white, all one girth cock, he now stared at a thick brown brother, big at the base, thinning slightly as it stretched skyward, and capped by a big purple mushroom, whose pleasure rim flared out wider than the shaft. Instead of being straight, my boy curved upward from the base, like the battering prow of an icebreaker.

"Are those the biggest pair of balls you've ever seen, Jimmy?" Mel asked. He gulped and nodded. If he could've read my mind, he'd have known that was the one thing I envied about him. His set were about as big as pecans, riding high against the root of his cock; neat, compact, and as potent as my kiwis.

"Okay, Jimmy. I was just having some fun with you boys." The mental comparison had made his cock hang down, half erect. "At First National Bank, everyone gets to have some fun. So, right this way." She grabbed his shaft and led him into the bank machine room. Mel left the door open so I could watch. She sat Jimmy on the bench, adjusting its height so his feet were flat on the floor. She spread his legs, knelt between them, and started to massage his little nuts. Mel pulled the back of her skirt up, turned her head, and winked at me. In the middle of her lovely, white butt, I could see her tiny asshole and her major pussy lips smiling at me. It took all my will power to keep my hand off my throbbing cock. I went to the door for a better view.

Mel encased his shaft in her fist, jacking him as she sucked on his glans. Impetuous youth didn't last long. A low moan mixed with the slurping. She withdrew her head, but kept him trapped in her fist to aim him. Jimmy thrust against her fist, continuing to moan, and started shooting his cum. His first squirt was small, landing in Mel's waiting palm, about two inches from the mouth of his tube. Then his geyser became full blown. He shot six or seven thick, copious spumes, jetting half a foot before filling Mel's waiting mouth. He finished by pumping several more thick dollops of creamy semen into her palm. With his ejaculation down to a drip, she milked him in her fist for five minutes, licking and sucking his softening cockhead to get every last drop. She swallowed all his cum(none leaked out of the corners of her mouth!). I had no way of knowing how virile his sperm were, but I had been right to envy him. Though just one of my balls was over twice as big as both of his, Jimmy's thin, white penis could shoot enough cum to make the most seminiferous wild boar in the jungle closely guard his sows.