His Grace, the Duke of Lincoln
Finally, we parted and lay next to each other. We kissed, sharing my ass and his cum flavors. The more we kissed, the harder my dick got. He grabbed at it and said that we shouldn't waste it. So, I mounted him again. This time, it was real love-making. Face to face, I fucked him on his back. We kissed tenderly, only increasing the rhythm as mutually necessary. I slapped his hand away when he tried to jack in tempo with my fucking. "I'll suck you off as I cum inside you," I promised.
"That's a promise I'll hold you to."
"And if I should break it?"
"I guess I'll have to fuck you again."
"Not much of an incentive," I smiled down at him. "I win either way."
"You win no matter what we do, Derek, and so do I."
Chapter 7
My pace increased slowly. His hands on my hard ass encouraged me to go faster and faster. Moaning with pleasure, Sir Alex squeezed my dick with his ass at each thrust. His dick flopped and dripped on to his abs with each pump of my hips.
"I'm so close, Derek," he whispered throatily. I smiled down at him and increased my rhythm. At the same time, I bend over farther and took the head of his leaking dick into my mouth. My tongue lashed and sucked on it hungrily. The Duke's hips speared his hungry ass on my pistoning dick and then withdrew to shove his bloated dick into my mouth without losing my dick up his ass. The ensuing battle between his climax and his need to get fucked raged for another minute. But, I could tell by how he was panting that he was only seconds away from flooding my mouth with his third climax of the evening.
Alex's dick jerked in my mouth and warm sperm jetted between my lips. I swallowed hungrily and sucked eagerly for more. My hips thrust faster, the head swelling ominously inside him. With one more hard hump, my cum dam burst. Streams of thick dick gravy jetted from my dick, adding to my first load of the evening. More cum sprayed from the Duke's dick forcing me to swallow again.
An unyielding need to breed crashed over me. I pulled off his dick and pushed hard with my hips until my black baby-maker was all the way in. More juice jetted into him as my hips rode his ass hard. I wanted to finish blowing him, but my own desire to nut inside him overwhelmed rational thought.
Alex finished off his climax by jacking the last weak sprays with his hand. When my jerking dick stopped pumping sperm out so hard, I leaned in and licked up all the spilled cum on Sir Alex's abs. Finally, I began to pull out. He insisted that I remain in him as long as possible. That was only another couple of minutes. Lying beside him again, we kissed softly.
"I've never had better," Alex smiled, "never."
"Nor have I," I agreed.
Hours later, I awoke with a start. My hard dick was wet. Heavenly pressure was being applied around the head. Alex was giving me a wonderful blowjob. I jerked my dick in his mouth and moaned. He giggled softly, but didn't change his urgent need to drain my nuts again. I urged him to turn around so I could do the same for him. He eagerly agreed, swinging his right leg over my head and burying my nose in his asshole and my lips against his tight ball sack. I inhaled greedily, enjoying his scent and the smell of cum. My dick jerked again.
"Get my ass wet so I can sit on your big dick, Derek," he ordered.
As if! Eagerly, I pressed my lips against his scented pucker and inserted my tongue between his ass lips. He moaned at the pleasure I gave him, pushing his ass forcefully into the rimming he was getting. I was only too happy to eat his ass until he couldn't stand it any longer. The taste of spent cum encouraged me to eat deeper. But, his need to be seeded again couldn't be denied.
Hurriedly, he spun about and sat on my dick like he'd been born to it. Alex didn't take it all at once (I doubt anyone could), but he certainly tried. With a couple of inches exposed, he halted his downward progress and pulled back to the bloated head. He smiled down at me as his ass descended again. His hard dick slapped wetly against my abs as I thrust upwards to deeply open his muscled butt tunnel. Groans of appreciation escaped from both of us. I held his hips down as I thrust up into him again and again. His hips corkscrewed around my pistoning dick, giving me tight pleasures I used to only dream about.
Deliberately, he kept the pace slow. Alex wanted to get seeded, but he was in no rush to get to that creamy destination. The journey of taking a big, black dick up his ass was part of the joy of mating with me. He leaned into me and kissed me softly on the lips. I thrust harder up his ass, pushing his mouth away from mine. He pushed back hard against me and our lips met again. His spread ass took every inch of man-meat I had and gleefully gobbled it up.
Alex's need to get fucked was quickly turning into his need to be seeded. His ass muscles clamped down and began to suck me toward a juicy climax. My need to breed rapidly overtook both of us. With a bone-jarring rocketing of my hips, my first wave of climax and creamy spray of cum raced from my nuts into his deep ass. My hands held him down as my hips repeatedly pumped more jizz into his welcoming butt tunnel. The harder I fucked him, the more he squealed with delight and used his ass muscles to extract more dick gravy from me.
As my climax waned and my need to thrust hard into him became less urgent, I felt splatters of warm dick sauce bathe my chest and abs. The more my dick jerked inside him, the harder he nutted on to me. His hand raced up and down his thick dick and delivered more cum onto my body. I scooped it up with my fingers and relished the creamy, salty taste of my favorite aristocrat.
The Duke continued to rock on my dick, keeping it captive with his strong ass muscles. His wilted dick rested on my navel, pooling more cum. We quietly competed to scoop up the most cum that we could from my chest and abs, feeding it back to him.
"I could spend all day sitting on your big dick and eating cum," Alex sighed heavily, "but, I have a meeting this morning at the House of Lords."
"Party pooper!" I laughed. By then, my dick had wilted too and was on the verge of slipping out of his ass. "I was hoping for another round of fun before you had to leave."
"Well," he smiled devilishly, "we do have to clean up before we go." With that cryptic comment, he turned around and sucked my cum-coated dick into his mouth, eagerly cleaning it off. His ass was close enough that I could smell cum in it. Not one to turn down a chance to rim his creamed, muscular ass, I pulled his cheeks apart and ate his hole out until my tongue couldn't find any more baby batter. With another contented sigh, Alex rolled off me and the bed and headed for the bathroom. We'd need a good shower to start our day if we were to be near other humans.
I waited near the limousine most of the morning, conversing with other drivers, security people and our driver, James Dunbar. James was an interesting, young man that I'd have to get to know better at a later date without so many others hanging about.
"Bloody waste of time," the Duke fumed as he strode purposefully toward us. "Unbelievable ill-informed asses they are!" Before James or I could open the rear door for him, the Duke swung the door open and jumped into the back seat. "Home Office, James!" he nearly shouted. "And be quick about it, if you please!" Something was obviously bothering him. Knowing better than to asked, I waited until he was ready to tell us. "What little power we do have, we should use it!" he exclaimed to no one in particular. "Intelligence is the key!" I was sure all of this was leading somewhere, but I was at a loss to know where. He continued to fulminate in the rear compartment as James drove expertly through the London traffic.
At the Home Office, he again let himself out of the car, then turned and beckoned to me, "I need you with me, Mr. Jackson." That wasn't a summons; that was an order. Quickly, I complied. I hurried along beside him, watching for nefarious souls as we walked into the ornate building. Passing through security hurriedly, we headed for the Home Secretary's office.
Bursting through the doors, Alex had a full head of steam up now. The Home Secretary's gatekeeper instantly rose and offered the Duke a chair in the inner office, away from the reception area. "I'll inform the Secretary of your arrival, Your Grace," the woman hastily added as she swept through another set of doors. Less than a minute later, the Home Secretary came out and personally escorted us into his private office.
"What may I do for you, Your Grace?" he asked after introductions had been made (for my benefit) and tea and biscuits offered.
"This confounded nonsense about cutting the intelligence budget!" Sir Alex blustered. "What nincompoop did that?"
"Ah, I suspected as much," the Home Secretary smiled. "Not to worry, Sir Alex," he added. "The funds you seem to be missing have been moved to the military budget. We can more readily hide it and add to it there." The Duke deflated and smiled. "So, this is the famous Mr. Jackson who thwarted your uninvited guest a few months ago?" the Home Secretary beamed at me.
"Yes," Sir Alex answered, "and that's another reason to pay you a visit, Hugh. Have you made progress on identifying his handlers?"
"We have, but not enough to pull him in, I'm afraid," the Home Secretary replied, stating a name that meant nothing to me, but one I'd be sure to pass along to the American Embassy. "We have electronic and personal surveillance on him, but he hasn't made any false moves, yet."
"Has the perpetrator supplied you with any useful information?" I asked.
"I'm afraid not, at least not very useful. So far, it is only guilt by association, but we know who his control is."
"I won't ask how you know that," Sir Alex smiled. "Will his operatives come after me again? My boys will be returning from the States for Christmas, so I'm more concerned than before."
"I think we have the leader pretty well buttoned up, but we're not willing to take more chances," the Home Secretary revealed. "There will be more security at your estate in Berkshire as well as here in London. We don't doubt your skills, Mr. Jackson," he quickly added, "but, you can't be in all places at all times, nor do you have the intelligence network to know what the bad guys, as you say, are up to. He has vast resources to draw upon. We will keep you informed, of course. May I suggest, Your Grace, that this might be a good time for you to go on holiday?"
"Is there some reason that I should be away?" the Duke quickly asked.
"Nothing specific, but there has been some chatter that could mean something or nothing," the Home Secretary responded. "We need to chase down some leads, that's all. But, if you were out of the country or in a safe place that no one knew of, it would make our jobs easier and give us more time to nail this down."
"I see," Sir Alex mused. "Perhaps, a week or two away would be good enough for your purposes?"
"Yes, Your Grace. That would be perfect!"
"Very well. I'll let you know where and when," Alex agreed.
"I'd prefer that you not. Too many people know about this tawdry affair," the Home Secretary cautioned. "Perhaps, you could check in with us every couple of days. I'm sure Mr. Jackson knows of ways to mask phone calls. I'd also recommend that your household only be told that you are away, but not where or for how long."
We nodded agreement. There was only so much I could do alone to protect the Duke against resolute men intent on doing harm to the Duke and his family. And if the intelligence was solid enough that the Home Secretary was warning us to leave, we should take his advice. Alex thanked the Home Secretary, they shook hands and we left. On the way back to the car, Alex whispered to me, "How about a couple of weeks in the south of Spain, say, Gibraltar?" I smiled back at him and nodded.
"All is not lost," the Duke said when we'd left the House of Lords. "I didn't think the Home Office was totally without sense, but you never know about these bureaucrats and their budgets." We headed back to the car. I smiled and nodded to Mr. Dunbar as he opened the rear door for the Duke. That was my subtle way of letting James know that all the fuss had been brushed aside and all was good with the Duke's world, as far as James needed to know, anyway.
Our direct, chartered flight left on time from Gatwick and landed at Gibraltar nearly three hours later. I had selected the four-star Rock Hotel Gibraltar for its location and security. The other hotels had security or access problems. I also knew that this hotel had a penthouse suite that would be close to what the Duke was accustomed to enjoying. It had been built in 1932 by the Marquis of Bute, a cousin of the Duke's. We were not disappointed. It was nicely decorated in an art deco style, while still being modern. The penthouse was spacious and well appointed. The elevator to the penthouse was locked down when occupied. Only the hotel manager and the assigned guests could over-ride the lock-out. Hotel staff was only allowed into the penthouse when the guests were gone and then only when the hotel manager used his pass key to allow them access. All those safeguards could be thwarted and a time-bomb planted in the room to go off in the middle of the night when the guests were asleep. But, there was only so much I could do about that.
Although it was late October, the weather was warm and sunny. We had asked the hotel manager to register us as Allen Greville and Darren Jones. Any incoming calls were to be greeted with the standard response of, "I'm sorry, but that person is not registered here." I'd brought along disposable cell phones, so our calls couldn't be traced. Additionally, I'd set up blind e-mail accounts so that the head butler at the estate could leave messages for us, if necessary. I checked those accounts every few hours, except at night, of course. Nothing transpired, other than the e-mail from Berkshire confirming that the accounts were working. We had left word with the Home Secretary before we departed that he could contact us through the head butler at the estate if necessary.
Alex remained connected to his banking and shipping interests via the laptop computer we'd brought along, but only through secured sites. At my recommendation, but more importantly, at the recommendation of his trusted financial advisors, Alex had been slowly divesting himself of stocks and moving his money into high-yield bonds. After checking his accounts and the last minute instructions that he'd left before we departed, we went to the restaurant in the hotel and had a delicious Italian dinner. A very good wine had been recommended by the sommelier and was the perfect accompaniment to our dinner.
With the distractions of the House of Lords and running his diverse empire far in the background, Sir Alex and I acted like newlyweds, fucking ourselves into a lather several times a day. We did the tourist thing by taking a guided, escorted tour telling us of the history of the Rock of Gibraltar, including the macaques, the gun emplacements from several wars, uniforms worn by the soldiers, and how the British forcibly took the Rock from Spain in 1704. The Treaty of Utrecht in 1713 confirmed it, but that never set well with the Spanish and is still a bone of contention between the two countries. However, the Gibraltarians strongly oppose any change in their status. The currency is the English pound, but the Euro, once adopted by the EU, is now (2009) widely accepted.
We rented a car in Algeciras (just outside Gibraltar) and toured the nearby beaches and points of interest, including the most southern tip of Spain at Tarifa. From there, we could see Morocco. Although hydrofoils left every two hours for the 35-minute trip to Tangiers, we decided not to go for security reasons. A well-worn sign showed that one side of the breakwater was the Mediterranean Sea and the other side was the Atlantic Ocean. We motored on up to the historic city of Cadiz and played tourists again. All along the Spanish coast, we saw many wind farms, their three-bladed windmills happily generating electricity for the Iberian Peninsula.
On another day, we took the car up to Seville and spent the day playing tourists once more. As Alex had already been here many times, he was our tour guide. It was another wonderful day. I gave him a blowjob on the way back to the Rock. I know we both enjoyed it. He thought it only fair that when we returned to our hotel, that I fuck his brains out. Of course, as the dutiful employee, I did as I was asked, seeding him deeply.
But, two weeks is a long time for a dynamic man like Sir Alex to be away from England, especially when he's cut off from most of his business connections. Yes, the internet was available, but that wasn't the same as direct contact. I saw the unmistakable signs and knew it was time to leave. Our chartered jet got us into Gatwick in the early evening. I had called Mr. Dunbar and asked him to meet us at the business jet part of the airport. Securing our luggage from the plane, Mr. Dunbar guided us to where the Rolls was waiting beside the parked jet. Rank (and money) does have its privileges.
When we returned to the estate in Berkshire, the head butler informed me that the American Embassy had called two days earlier and would like to speak with me. The matter wasn't urgent, but necessary. I wondered what that could be about. I was a civilian now. No matter, I decided. Perhaps, it was some kind of last minute papers that needed to be signed for my mustering out.
As Sir Alex would be in London again tomorrow afternoon for more House of Lords business, I decided that I'd stop by the Embassy and see what they needed while the Duke was otherwise occupied. Mr. Dunbar could reach me there if the meetings with the other members of Parliament took less time than anticipated.
It felt good to be home in our own bed. Alex seemed more relaxed than he had been on holiday. Perhaps, it was the unfamiliar bed, or the isolation, or even the lack of security in a "foreign" land. In any event, he went to bed early, coaxing me to join him in debauchery. I was a very willing accomplice! It was nearly midnight before his sexual energy had been drained, twice into my thirsty ass and once down my throat. I gave as good as I got, too.
In the morning, we showered, fucked again, and began the morning. He had a quick meeting with the head butler, spent some time with the Duke's mother, and the head grounds-keeper. All seemed to be back to normal. But, I did notice three additional persons on the estate I hadn't seen before. Mr. Dunbar pointed out and vouched for them as being from the Home Office. The threat was being taken very seriously, more so than the Home Secretary had let on two weeks earlier. I'd be sure to mention that to the Colonel at the Embassy this afternoon.
The Colonel greeted me as a good friend. I enjoyed treating him as my equal, not a subordinate. When the pleasantries had finished, he told me that the intruder on the Duke's estate was being shipped off to the Bahamas to face the hangman. He'd been tried in absentia for two murders there two years ago and found guilty. As England and the Bahamas had an extradition treaty and because England didn't have any reason not to release him to the Bahamians' tender care, he would be put on a plane at the end of the week to meet his demise. At least that was one more bad guy I wouldn't have to worry about any more.
When I brought up of the name of his handler, the Colonel smiled broadly. "He's been implicated in all sorts of misdeeds from murder to extortion to drug trafficking to prostitution rings. He's a wanted man on several continents, but is being shielded in Tunisia for a large fee, we suspect. Word has it that the government there wants him out (despite his friends in high places), so he will soon be deported or allowed to be kidnapped by foreign agents. Two good men are already on it. Even if we rid ourselves of him, there will be others to take his place, but perhaps not as lethal or as powerful."
"Who gets jurisdiction? Where will he be tried?" I asked.
"There will be no trial," the Colonel said flatly.
"Terminated?
"With extreme prejudice. But, you didn't hear it from me. I've said enough already to a civilian," he smiled.
Clearly, the head man who directed our unwanted infiltrator would be assassinated by a special "wet" team trained for tasks such as that. The manner in which he'd phrased it with "two good men already on it," I had to assume they were being directed by the U.S. However, they could also be assassins from Mossad, MI6, or any number other intelligence services. This was a highly wanted, highly dangerous man. The Home Secretary had intimated that MI6 was already on station, ready to accomplish their mission once the word from on high had been given.
(For those wishing to know what finally happened to the international pariah being pushed out of Tunisia, read Chapter 2 of The Assassins, appearing soon on www.nifty.org)
This story is a work of fiction. Your life isn't. Always play safe!
Constructive criticisms welcome. Send to blackhunk33@yahoo.com