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The next day, a customer-experience specialist from the electric utility called me. "Just reaching out to get your feedback on recent interfaces with the electric company," he said. "May I ask you a few quick questions, Sir? It would be most helpful and appreciated."
"Sure. Shoot," I said.
"I see you've had two interactions lately with our service men, is that correct, Sir? First your regular meter-reader, then with a team of three follow-up specialists?"
"Yes, that's right."
"And what was their general attitude? Were they friendly and respectful, or did they fall short in people skills?" His voice had dropped a few notes in pitch and sounded rather conspiratorial and even intimate on those last two words.
"No way," I answered, "The guys treated me with great respect and attention to detail." I hesitated, then continued. "I don't know if their notes reflect that they offered me special services, personal services."
"Yes, Sir, absolutely. They are required to report every detail of customer interaction. In fact, they were very eager to share their enthusiasm about you." There was a moment of awkward silence as I waited for him to continue. He went on slowly, "They say you've got the most stud body of any of their customers, and a world-class big fat dick. They said you produce an incredible amount of cum."
"Yeah, that's all correct. I gave the first guy a Ziploc bag full of my cum, and next time the team all got cum-soaked badges of honor. I hope it's not against your employee rules."
"Oh, no Sir! Many of our gentlemen customers like to acknowledge our workers with a personal gift. No problem at all. The boys were in awe of your generosity."
"Well, they were a big help to me! I was holding an eight days' load which hurt like hell and was driving me crazy. The team took their time working it out of me, but they drained every drop."
"Sir, were the men careful when handling your penis and your testicles? Any roughness or unpleasant carelessness?"
"Well the regular meter-reader didn't ever actually touch me, things happened so fast. But the follow-up team were total professionals, taking turns handling my dick and balls and passing them back and forth to each other, which wasn't easy. So huge."
"Yes, Sir, I see that noted. However, I'm sorry to say the team neglected to get detailed measurements, which we require on every job."
"What do you mean?" I was puzzled. "Measure the house? The electric current?"
He laughed softly. "No, Sir, we require personal measurements of all our gentlemen customers, for aggregated data analysis. We keep routine records of your height and weight, chest, waist, hips, each arm and leg muscle, hand dimensions, foot dimensions, nipple diameters and projections, penis length flaccid, penis length erect, penis weight, each testicle's height, width, and depth, and each individual testicle's weight."
"Yeah, I can see why you would need all that!" I admitted.
"We note what the subject is wearing when we arrive. Not a consideration in your case, I know! And of course we record how much semen is produced, and the length of time edging you. We give subjective scores on how sensitive your nipples are and on how strongly your nipples are wired into your dick."
I was amazed and a little shocked. "So you keep these stats just for all your personal-service customers? Wow, how many guys would that be?"
"Sir," he answered curtly, "I cannot divulge private company information." (This, from somebody who's just been asking me about my dick size and my sexual response.)
We recovered our cool instantly. "Anyway, Sir, we'll have your measurements taken on our very next visit, if that meets with your approval."
"Hell, yeah, measure away!" I enthused.
"Your sharing and cooperation are very important to us, Sir. For my final question, Sir, is there anything you can think of that our service men could have done differently? Or did you feel that anything was missing, anything you would like to have included in future service calls?"
This was a great question, so I thought about it for, must have been a minute. I had so many ideas. The interviewer waited patiently. Finally, I told one: "Sometimes I like to be tied up when I get edged, you know? It's like, being helpless makes my eventual orgasm so damn intense. I like to be tied up and displayed to a group. Sometimes I like to get spanked a little, just to show how tough I am."
Now it was his turn to be silent, and I wondered, had he hung up the phone? Was he actually writing all this down? Was he panting a little, ever so quietly?
"Thank you so much for your time and your very candid replies, Sir," he said, a little breathlessly. "I did get all that down, so we can definitely strategize and interface to provide those special touches to you when we reach out for future service calls. Now, Sir, is there anything else I can help you with today?"
"You can send some of your studs over here to drain my fat dick, that's what," I said pointedly.
He chuckled a little, as if I had been kidding. "I'm sorry that won't be possible today, Sir, since as you said, last time you had saved up an eight days' load. You'll need to go at least eight more days before you can cum again, that's our rule. But we will be in touch. Good-bye."
And with a click he was gone. I was left with a painfully erect, precum-dripping dick, and eight more days to carry my new cum load, already swelling and throbbing deep inside.