The sunlight steaming thru the open shades sliced thru my head like a knife, a dull knife, and I knew right away that I had drunk too much the night before.
The other dull ache? Well, let's just say it brought memories of last night into a focus that stirred my inner feelings to the core.
I slowly opened my eyes, trying to shade them as much as possible from the sunlight, and tried to get my bearings. I was alone in bed, but from the ruffled pillow beside me, not to mentioned my recollections of the evening just past, I knew Assad had been there. Out of curiosity more than anything else, I spread my legs and felt down there. I was surprised to find that my hole was still quite dilated from the fucking last night. I guess I shouldn't have been, as I slowly played the events of the night over in my mind. True to his promise, Assad had fucked me like I had never been fucked before. And not just one time. As the fog of the champagne began to clear somewhat, more and more of the details popped into focus. Yes, it had been quite an evening.
I stumbled out of bed and found the robe lying on the floor, just where I had dropped it before all this began. Pulling it on, I made my way into the living room where I found Assad talking on the phone.
"Good morning" he greeted me, covering the mouthpiece as he spoke "breakfast will be here in few minutes. Sit."
I flopped down on the couch as he returned to his conversation. He was speaking French, and I picked up enough of the conversation to know that he was talking with his embassy about money for some para military group. I suspected an IRA off shoot, but then put the thought out of my mind. I had to maintain discipline here and focus on information. Other people, much smarter than me, would analyze that information. No, I had to concentrate on remembering as much of the conversation as I could. That was an important part of my job. Modern anti surveillance techniques virtually precluded wire tapping. Voice scrambling, spread spectrum phone transmissions, you name it, the modern day villain had the upper hand in the game.
I pretended to be oblivious to his conversation as I gazed out on the park spread out below us. It was going to be a gorgeous sunny London day, and I wondered if I'd be able to spend any of it outside. This assignment, like most, was really open ended. I had a list of information my handlers wanted, and as usual I would spend as much time with Assad as he allowed, slowly ticking off the various information as I uncovered it and either passing it on, bit by bit, to the agents working with me or storing it so I could do a 'brain dump' to them at the conclusion of the mission. Or various combinations. In essence, we had been writing the heretofore unwritten book on this particular type of intelligence gathering as we went along.
I held the dubious honor of being the first, and only operative of my kind working for a US intelligence agency. The idea had been floated for approval several times during the cold war, but prejudice seemed to shoot it down each time a candidate was offered up. These intelligence agencies are macho organizations, with an overabundance of James Bond wanna a bees, and like it or not, queers just don't fit that image. Women 'bait' are accepted by these guys, but a fairy? Ya gotta be kiddin. I was in because I got my start out of the main stream intelligence activity, on Okinawa. A relative backwater, Jake and his superiors had a free reign to use me without having to obtain approval from the entire community. The successful breakup of a major Soko Gakai cell had catapulted Jake and company to the forefront of success stories, and when they learned how the cell had been penetrated I became a hot item. I had to leave the Far East for safety sake anyway, so Europe worked for me as well. It had been an interesting two years, filled with enough travel and adventure to keep me in a constant state of amazement. I couldn't have imagined that things would work out this way.
The level of professionalism had been cranked up a notch or two over that of Okinawa, and I was brought up to that level thru a series of training courses over the course of the first few months on the continent. Several training sorties and 'pretend' missions to improve my newly acquired skills, followed by the inevitable sessions to critique performance with an eye on perfection. Yes, I had changed. The work seemed intuitive and reflexive now, due to all the practice, and I went about it efficiently, confidant in my training and ability.
But the training wasn't what put the 'special' in my job title of 'special operative'. Many operatives had been trained and were much better at it than me. No, my specialty was my homosexuality, my willingness to do things no other agent would do with certain targets. And as I had been targeted by the Soko Gaki, so did my handlers use me to target their marks. I was used for those targets who were identified as susceptible to the alternative side of the sexual universe. Unapproachable to this point, the intelligence agencies I worked for now had another trick in their bag to compromise these individuals.
I had experienced what had to be the entire range of sexual predators in the dark world of international relations, from the obvious to the curious, and so far at least, I had been successful in carrying out the work. From the UK, to the Middle East, to Russia, I had played every part, from the willing 'bimbo' to the refined 'gentleman's gentleman', in an effort to gain the confidence of the mark. Some had been easy and fast, others difficult and slow, but the results were always the same. I always found a way to work myself into their confidence to the point that when they finally dropped their guard, I got the goods. And the 'goods' were as varied as the mark, from something simple like incriminating photos to something more involved like my current assignment of securing the combination of Assad's in suite safe where, it was suspected, he was keeping contact details and money related to funding of the IRA. Each case was different. And each mark was different. Assad was at the upper end of the spectrum both in terms of the complexity of the mission as well as the sexual excitement I felt in carrying it out. He was, to be truthful, someone I would have followed anywhere under different circumstances.
But I wasn't following him today. Breakfast over, he talked about a busy day. I promised to come back to the suite later that evening, but I obviously wasn't a part of his plans for the day. As I slipped my clothes on he was at the safe in the bedroom. 9623. Making a mental note of the four numbers he keyed into the safe to open it I sauntered out of the room without raising any suspicion. Another item on the list ticked off.
He showed me to the door and made me promise to come back, which I did, and shut the door behind me.
'9623' I said, offhandedly, as I walked past the front desk. The plant nodded as he scratched the numbers on the notepad in front of him and I walked quickly out of the lobby and a few blocks down the street to my prearranged meeting point.
I spent most of the day with my handlers, going over the details I had collected. No questions, no off color remarks, just a professional debriefing of what I had seen. And plans for collecting the rest of the information they wanted. They knew Assad was booked on a flight from Heathrow home in two days, which seemed like enough time to ferret out the rest. Agents were going over the suite even now in an attempt to photograph the contents of the safe before Assad returned. But the feeling was that he would take certain documents to his meeting today, and those would have to be gotten another way. I needed time alone in the suite, and we discussed the possibilities of arranging that.
The plan was to hide me somewhere on the floor, and using our plant at the front desk, tip me off when he arrived. The thought was that if, by coincidence, I happened to meet him in the hall maybe, just maybe, I could maneuver him into a situation where he would be more interested in sex than taking the normal precaution of putting the contents of his briefcase in the safe. Given the urgency with which we did it last night, and the fact that he probably didn't have sex yet today, it seemed a long shot that just might work.
I spent another hour going over the details before being dropped, three blocks from the hotel, with a key to a room down the hall from Assad's suite, where I sat waiting for the signal that he had arrived. Just before 5 PM the phone range. "On his way to the elevator" the voice said. I slipped from the room and began walking slowly down the hall in the direction of the elevator.
"There you are" I said in releaved tone as Assad came out of the elevator "I knocked but no one answered." From the surprised and delighted look on his face, I guessed that he bought that.
He clutched a rather large leather bag under his left arm.
"Yes, yes" he said, smiling "I was detained a bit. But now, here I am."
"Um...yes, here you are" I replied in a hungry tone.
"You missed me, no?"
"Um huh. I sure did." I was bimbo, in high gear now. As much of an act as it may have been, the truth was that I did look forward to a repeat of last night. I was attracted to the man, and the thought of how he had taken me sent shivers of delight and anticipation racing thru my being.
"We will see how much you have missed me" he said, half joking, as he opened the door to the suite and motioned me inside. Coming in after me, he shut the door and slide the security latch closed. I made up my mind that it was now or never.
Sinking to my knees in front of him, I ran my hands up and down his zipper, feeling the first stirrings of excitement in him. His cock was turned up, along his stomach, and all the attention I was giving him worked to make it hard almost immediately, the outline of it very visible as it strained at the confines of his trousers.
He didn't stop me. He didn't move. He simply let me unbuckle his belt and unzip him. Like last night, he wore no underwear, and as his trousers fell away, his semi hard cock sprang out to meet me. Knowing that I didn't have much time, I pulled it quickly into my open mouth, locking my lips gently around the mass of it. I tasted his precum almost immediately, and a few seconds of attention from my mouth had him rock hard.
The bag slipped to the floor as he brought both hands to the back of my head and pulled me to him. My throat relaxed instinctively, and his cock head slipped past my gag reflex and into my throat. We had each other exactly where we wanted to have each other, and I spent the next few minutes concentrating on giving him a sensual blowjob. We both knew it was foreplay, and he let me suck him for a few minutes more before pulling me to my feet and pushing me in front of him toward the bedroom.
We stood, facing each other, as we both quickly stripped out of our clothes.
He turned me around and pushed me gently face down on the bed in front of us. As I lay there I could hear him rummaging in the bedside table for the condoms and lube I knew he kept there. He put the rubber on himself this time, and as I spread my legs he parted my cheeks and probed my anus with his finger.
"Wait" I interrupted trying to think of what my handlers had instructed "let me clean up." As he sank to the bed, I got up and, bending over, brought my mouth back to his cock and gave it quick suck. "Stay here, I'll get my douche and be right back."
I went into the living room to collect my douche kit from my bag, silently slipping the security lock off 'secure' as I did. He lay on the bed watching me thru the open bathroom door as I sat on the commode and filled my intestines with the sweet smelling douche that cleaned them out. I cleaned up, applying a scented cleansing lotion to the lips of my hole, and forced a lubed finger inside me to spread the smooth liquid into my anal cavity. Then I joined him on the bed, rolling on my stomach and spreading my legs.
He was on top of me in a second, probing my anus with his cock. I reached behind me with one hand and grasp the shaft to guide him in. My lips and sphincter were still dilated from last night, and he slipped in me without a problem, burying at least half of his cock in me with one thrust.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" I groaned as I felt my sphincter and anal cavity opening to him. He thrust again and was completely inside me, the tip of his cock pressing against my sensitive prostate as his pubic hair mashed down on my bare cheeks. I reached back with both hands and spread my cheeks to give him complete access to the warmth of my love hole. He pressed in another inch and the sensation was like nothing I had ever felt before. Assad's was, without a doubt, the largest cock I had ever taken, and I felt myself giving over completely to him. I was an object to him. He was an object to me. And we would both use each other to satisfy complementary, but different needs.
We were in a more relaxed position than last night, and Assad settled into a slow, deliberate fuck, raising slightly to withdraw part of himself from me before pressing down and sliding in completely. I pushed back to meet his thrusts as I held my cheeks apart so that nothing stood between our union except pubic hair.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh...unngggggghhh" I moaned as I felt myself losing all control. I was completely relaxed and open now and I could feel his massive cock making mush out of what had been my tight pink button. I could feel my lips stretch to unbelievable proportions, but strangely enough, I felt no pain. Only need. And pleasure.
"Yessss...yesss" he responded as he continued to slide in and out of me. "Sweet whore. Sweet ass. Ahhhhhhh"
"Ummmmmmmhuuuuhhh" I moaned into the bedspread. He had me on fire now. I was his. He could have done anything to me at this point. I wasn't resisting. I couldn't resist. He was using me in a way that we both knew I wanted to be used. His whore? Yes. I would be his whore. Gladly. "Oh, fuck me Assad. Fuuuuuccccck meeeeeee."
"You like to be fucked by Assad? I think so. I think you enjoy being whore for Assad." He had that right.
"Yes..yes...I'm your whore. Anything....anything for you." I fairly screamed it.
"You Assad white bitch. Pussy boy. Assad fuck you as you have never been fucked. Fuck you like a woman. You take my cock like a woman. You pleasure Assad with your ass like a woman." If he meant it an insult, it was wasted on me. He couldn't insult me at this point, I was too wrapped up in the intense pleasure he was giving me. Maybe it helped him to think of me as a woman. Maybe it appealed to his macho ego to pretend the tight wetness he had his prick buried in was a woman and not a man. Whatever worked for him, it didn't matter to me as long as he kept screwing me.
"Yes...yes, like a woman. I'm a woman for you...fuck, oh...fuck me."
Even in the sexual fog that overcame me, the rhetoric wasn't completely spontaneous, without purpose. The sounds of our lovemaking, our loud moaning and groaning, served to cover the quiet, practiced sound of the outer door to the suite being unlocked as two of the agents slipped in to examine and photograph the contents of the leather bag Assad had let slip to the floor. They were good. And they were fast, getting all the information that the bag held before slipping quietly our and locking the door silently behind them. Not that my mind was on what they were doing.
Assad was in a frenzy now, raised slightly on his knees, with a hand in the middle of my back to support him as his cock pistoned in and out of the pink mess that was my hole. I was as loose as I could be, stretched far beyond the point of being able to offer any resistance. His cock fit inside me and I opened to receive it. I couldn't open any further, and I couldn't constrict my muscles at all. My anal cavity was, for all intents and purposes, the size it needed to be. No more. And certainly no less.
I buried my face in the bed, stifling a scream as his cock worked its magic on the sweet spot deep inside me. I knew that magic would have the desired effect, and I was powerless to stop it when it came, feeling my orgasm that had most lately been boiling in my balls to race along the length of my penis and spill itself on the bed under me as the warmth of it spread along my stomach and soaked into the covers.
Strangely enough, even after such a powerful orgasm, I was still engulfed in a sexual high as Assad continued to fuck me, mashing me into the bed as he strove to relieve himself. I felt him tense, hold his position, then plunge in one more time before holding himself deep in me as he shot his load into the condom. I could feel the warmth, even thru the condom, as his sperm filled the length of it.
Assad rolled off me, removed the rubber, and pushed my head down to his crotch and groaned as took his wet cock into my mouth and cleaned the remnants of his orgasm from it. His cum tasted wonderful, slightly strong, with the bleach like taste and smell that I had come to crave. As soon as I had cleaned him, he rewarded me with the contents of the condom, squeezing out a huge amount of ejaculate for me to take in my mouth and enjoy before swallowing.
We both lay on our backs as we came down from the intensity of what we had just done. The combination of the savory taste and smell of his semen and the warm glow deep inside my intestines reminded me that talent and dedication have rewards far beyond the success of any mission. As a matter of fact, the mission was the last thing on my mind at that moment.
We had room service dinner and drinks before succumbing to our passion yet again, this time on the couch, not taking the time or effort to make it to the bedroom. When we finally did go to bed, we were both sated from enough sex to put us into a deep, almost immediate sleep.
We awoke the next morning to discover that he had no more condoms, and although I offered to let him fuck me without one, he refused. I knelt on the bed, between his legs, and sucked him off, eating his cum like the hungry whore I had become for this man in the past 24 hours.
His guard was down now, and I stayed in the suite all day as he went about his business, taking the opportunity to collect the final pieces of the puzzle that my handlers needed. Finished, I slipped out of the suite and made my way the three blocks to my pickup point.
Assad didn't make his scheduled flight. He was detained for questioning before the Libyan embassy sprang him on modified diplomatic immunity and the British Government expelled him.
I don't know what ever happened to him and his IRA friends, but I'm sure it wasn't a happy ending.
For me, and the combined security operation, it was a resounding sucess. But it would be a very long time before anyone filled me again like Assad had. I'm sure there are scores of lucky boys he's had since, and I've often felt a jeolous longing to be among them.
To be continued lesli99@hotmail.com