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Retired Navy man take four girls on a sailing adventure.
"You're just a goddamn hallucination."
He rolled over on his stomach to squelch his penis's protesting thrashes inside his pajama bottoms and finally fell asleep.
The dinner with Dick Smithers and his most voluptuous wife Claudia did not go smoothly.
They were all three chatting amiably when Joe felt something thrashing inside his pants. Goddamn hallucinations are starting in the daylight hours, he thought. He really had better go see Weinstein pretty soon.
Then the voice started up again.
"I want to make hot monkey love to you, Claudia," announced Joe's crotch.
Joe's boss broke off his anecdote about his African vacation in mid-sentence.. "What did you say?" asked a disbelieving Claudia, her eyes fairly bulging out of their sockets.
"I said I'm going to rub myself against those lovely knockers of yours until I spill my seed all over your rosy pink nipples," the muffled voice beneath Joe's zipper elaborated.
Oh shit, Joe thought. They aren't hallucinations after all. "Shut up," he told his misbehaving crotch.
"No, you shut up!" retorted Joe's penis.
"No, you," responded Joe.
"What is that, some kind of ventriloquism act you're working on?" asked Joe's clearly bewildered boss. Claudia was glaring at him, but not, he thought, without some degree of newly acquired sexual interest.
"I'm sorry, Claudia. that was just my genitals talking. What can I tell you? They seem to have a mind of their own lately. Where the hell is Lorena Bobbit when you need her, anyway?" he joked, searching Claudia's eyes for signs of forgiveness, but seeing only lust instead.
Suddenly he had an idea.
"You must be joking," said Joe's penis, turning around to look at him from its perch on the workshop bench.
"No, I am afraid not," Joe told his flaccid organ. "You've cost me my job. You're ruining my marriage. This is where we part company." And he brought the meat cleaver down again.
And once again Joe's penis dodged it deftly.
"OK, you weaselly little worm. No more Mr. Nice Guy," Joe told his rebellious member as he forced its helmet into the jaws of the vise. He considered simply crushing the organ in the vise, but somehow that thought sent a shiver up and down his spine. He saw that he was at a bad angle to wield the meat cleaver. He reached up on the rack for the hacksaw instead.
Joe's penis seemed to tremble at the prospect of its impending fate. But soon it began to grow tumescent. "Wait, I haven't shown you everything I can do," it told Joe, its voice sounding quite panicked at this point.
Joe drew the hacksaw across its shaft one time, producing a thin line of blood. This is going to be as easy as playing the violin, he thought. And probably will sound just about as good.
"Wait, let me show you," Joe's penis pled. It suddenly grew rock hard and began to throb with pleasure. "How do you like this, Joe?" it asked as it began to convulse in the most intense orgasm Joe had ever experienced in his life.
"And this?" it queried, showing signs of exertion as it brought Joe's pleasure to an even higher level of intensity.
The orgasm did not stop. It went on for minute after minute, the intensity level growing stronger and stronger. "How about this one, eh Joe?" it whined in an uncharacteristically high-pitched voice. "Not bad, huh?"
As wave after wave of pleasure overtook him, Joe found his resolve beginning to weaken. It was impossible to sever himself from something that was capable of such feats of ecstasy. Joe found his awareness beginning to dim after the first half hour. The orgasms were still intensifying as he finally lost consciousness altogether.
Months later, Joe was pushing his shopping cart down 107th Street.