The Chocolate Cock
a Story by Kellis
Copyright © 2003, Kellis
Pausing in the foyer, Paul checked his mailbox. Today to his surprise it contained a long, stiff cardboard box of unusual dimensions, about 3x3x10 inches, jammed among the catalogs, addressed to him using a computer-printed paste-on. He turned it back and forth: no return address. Prominently on one side was the legend, STORE IN A COOL PLACE. No problem there: February is cool even in Texas. Hefting it in hand, he guessed its weight at nearly a pound. What in the world?
On the elevator going up he studied it, thinking of anthrax, smallpox, explosives. A stick of dynamite would just about fit. Then he began to chuckle, ending in a bray of laughter as the doors opened on his floor. Who would care to blow him up? Hadn’t his mother-in-law said just last year that he wasn’t worth the necessary gunpowder? That relationship, his most aggravating since childhood, had eased since the divorce. Literally he could think of no enemy.
Curiosity begets courage. He found a sharp steak knife still resting in the now-unused kitchen drawer and opened the package carefully, grinning like an idiot, half expecting his world to vanish in a red flash. Inside was bubble wrap rolled around a long, chocolate-brown object. Laughing incredulously, he wondered if one of the people at work had sent him a turd for his birthday, now only a few days off.
Popping the tape, he unwrapped the thing gingerly, keeping fingertips away from it. His nose told him the truth first. Pre-turd! Lying atop the open bubble wrap was an irregular but curiously familiar cylinder of pure milk chocolate, one end swelling to form a base, the other crowned with a slitted blunt helmet.
Now his incredulous laugh took a different tone. This thing was an accurate replica casting, in solid milk chocolate, of an erect human penis.
“Good god!” he cried in awe. Only in porn movies had he ever seen a larger.
It contained no inscription. Examining the packing material, he found nothing to indicate the source. Who might have sent him this thing? Surely not Vera!
It had to be Vera!
He thought of her as a consolation prize for losing the wife who had learned independence during his years at school. Vera was loyal and willing but he had never suspected her of such lusty depths as this. Depths? His own average cock was enough to reach her cervix; how much depth could she want? Ah ha! He snapped his fingers. She loved to be licked.
That was the answer. She wanted him to let this chocolate cock melt in her, then eat it back out. Giving his imagination full rein, he grinned in anticipation. What a combination! He loved tongue on chocolate almost as much as she loved it on clit. Okay. He would do her up brown!
* * *
“Let me see the one on the right.”
The porn store clerk brought out the package to the top of the glass counter.
“You mind if I open it?” asked Paul.
The beefy young man sneered. “If you open it, you buy it.”
The directions on the back, especially the diagrams, told Paul what he needed to know. Grinning at the clerk, he ripped the end off the flimsy box and pulled out the dangling article.
“Damn it!” snarled the clerk, actually balling a fist, “I said if —”
“Relax. I’ve decided to buy it, even if $44 is exorbitant for a couple of elastic belts.”
“Oh.” The man took a deep breath. “Okay. How about this set of dildoes for it? They’re designed to fit on it here where —”
“No thanks. I only need the belt.”
The man looked puzzled. “You sure your dicks will fit? This is a new design.”
Paul smiled confidently. “That’s why they make electric drills.”
* * *
“I’m surprised at you, Paul. Turning out the lights with me naked! Don’t you want to see what you’re poking tonight?”
“Maybe I want to surprise you, Vera.”
“Ha! A man really gets only once chance to surprise a woman this way. I get it! You want to fantasize, right? Who is she, Paul?”
“It’s not for me. I’ve got a super Valentine treat for you, honey.”
Her voice grew throaty. “You have?”
Silence reigned for long seconds, aside from the rustle of bedclothes, irregular at first but soon becoming rhythmic.
The woman asked in evident puzzlement, “What in the world did you put in me, Paul?”
“Does it feel funny, Vera?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that. It smells funny!”
“Well, what’d you expect? How do you like it? Is it getting deep enough?”
“Oh, yes, all the way. But, but … it feels like you’re going soft!”
“That’s because you are verily a hot number, Vera!”
“Do hurry up. That odor is making me hungry.”
He laughed aloud. “Me too! I think that’s enough for the preliminary, don’t you?”
“Paul, I don’t under— Wow! Oh my god, that’s … that’s wonderful! Oh, Paul, you know I love it.” She laughed weakly. “But don’t try to put your whole face in there!”
* * *
“Hi, Paul. Remember me?”
“Julia!” He laughed. “That’s a voice I’ll never forget. How’ve you been, honey? Oops! Excuse me. Old habits.”
“I don’t mind if you call me honey. Even to my face. We’re not enemies, Paul.”
“Tell your mother that.”
She laughed wryly. “Mom sends her love. Listen, I called up to wish you a happy birthday, this being your first since our divorce.”
“And to make sure you fully appreciate it.”
“Appreciate? It’s not as if I’m turning 30, for Christ’s sake!”
She chuckled softly. “No, not yet. But I was killing two birds with one stone. I remembered something you said once. And of course I know what you love.”
“I’m sure you do. What was it I said?”
“I couldn’t find the words then but now you know anyway.”
“What was it, Julia?”
She laughed in obvious enjoyment. “You wondered what it felt like to have a cock in your mouth.”