The XXX Files Season One (Episodes 1-4)
Page 1
Contents
Copyright
Author’s Note
EPISODE ONE: Chapter One — Brad Hammer
Chapter Two – Brad Hammer
Chapter Three – Willow Monroe
Chapter Four – Brad Hammer
Chapter Five – Willow Monroe
Chapter Six – Brad Hammer
EPISODE TWO: Chapter One – Brad Hammer
Chapter Two – Brad Hammer
Chapter Three – Courtney Grayson
Chapter Four – Brad Hammer
Chapter Five – Brad Hammer
EPISODE THREE: Chapter One – Brad Hammer
Chapter Two – Brad Hammer
Chapter Three – Brad Hammer
Chapter Four – Willow Monroe
Chapter Five – Brad Hammer
EPISODE FOUR: Chapter One — Brad Hammer
Chapter Two — Willow Monroe
Chapter Three — Courtney Grayson
Chapter Four — Willow Monroe
Chapter Five — Brad Hammer
About Lexi Maxxwell
More Sexy Titles By Lexi Maxxwell
LEXI MAXWELL’S
The XXX Files
SEASON ONE
Episodes 1-4
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2013 by Lexi Maxxwell
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The authors have taken great liberties with locales including the creation of fictional towns. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
This eBook is for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you’d like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this copy and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors.
***WARNING***
This is a work of erotic fiction and contains GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SEX, WHICH MAY OFFEND SOME AUDIENCES. This book is meant for MATURE AUDIENCES AGED 18 OR OLDER (or whatever the local laws are in your area). All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
www.LexiMaxxwell.com
XXX
The XXX Files
SEASON ONE
EPISODES 1-4
THE PARANORMAL EROTICA THRILLER SERIAL BEGINS!
Special Agents Brad Hammer and Courtney Grayson work for the mysterious paranormal sex crimes unit, Division 13.
Aliens, werewolves, vampires, and ghosts ... they thought they’d seen it all.
But then they are called on to a case which has them stumped ... a room full of dead people and enough “DNA Stains” to look like a Jackson Pollock painting!
The only male victim is a scientist for one of the most powerful pharmaceutical companies on the planet, and it seems he’s the victim of one of his own experiments — a cigarette called Red Breath which turns men into non-stop sex machines.
But it has another effect on women.
It turns them into something unlike anything the agents have ever seen before — a succubus that drains the life of anyone she has sex with.
Can the sex-obsessed Agent Hammer keep his pecker in his pants long enough to solve the crime or will he become the next victim in this case?
The XXX Files is an erotic paranormal thriller series. Part homage to “The X-Files,” part smut, and packed with hot sex, thrills, chills, humor, and cliffhanger endings that will have you hot and hooked.
XXX
Author’s Note
I have a confession.
I’m a bit of a geek.
When I was younger, I LOVED “The X-Files.” Hell, I wanted to BE Agent Scully! She was a strong female character with a quiet sex appeal who played perfectly against the rogue sexiness of David Duchovny.
I loved watching the dynamic between them.
When I started writing smut, I wanted to test the waters with serial fiction. While I see it working extremely well in a few other genres, I don’t see much of it in smut.
And the feedback for Swallowing Secrets was awesome. People wrote me telling me how much they loved the characters, just like I love the characters in the books I write.
I set out to write smut with characters my readers could love and care for, so the reader reaction was gratifying. And since I’m always pushed to improve my craft, it nudged me further toward the decision to do a true serial.
I had a lot of ideas of stories I wanted to write, that would grab the reader by the crotch and hold them by the mind, but something kept bringing me back to the feeling I had back when I was watching “The X-Files.”
Then it slapped me right on the ass.
Why not write a smutty homage to “The X-Files?”
And not one of those corny porn titles based loosely on title only, but something that captures the spirit of the show, with characters you’ll actually love? This isn’t Mulder and Scully, or a cheap imitation, but they were my inspirational starting point to create flawed but lovable characters that you’ll get to know as the series continues.
Could I combine smut with a killer paranormal storyline, suspense, humor, and cliffhangers?
YES.
I’m shocked by how awesome this story is turning out! It’s sexy and thrilling, and rubbing me in two of my happiest places.
I hope you’ll love this as much as I do.
I can’t wait to hear what you think.
Please leave a review and tell your friends, because that’s the best way for me to give you more of what we both love.
Thank you for reading!
XXX
Lexi Maxxwell
XXX
EPISODE ONE: Chapter One — Brad Hammer
Special Agent Brad Hammer tried to open his eyes, but if felt like someone had fucked them shut forever.
Bright light spilled into the $197 a night hotel room, harsh against the shattered fragments of fractured memories. He eased them open slowly.
Where in the hell am I?
Brad rubbed his neck, then moved his fingers to his temples, kneading them deep into his flesh as if the deeper they went the more likely he was to massage the pain and confusion away.
Brad wasn’t sure what was throbbing harder, his head or his morning pride. He forced his eyes open despite the light, then stared at the tent of sheet covering his cock. No girl had ever complained about the size of Brad’s dick – at a nice, thick nine and a half inches, the second hammer Brad’s daddy had given him on the day he was born had never had any problem pounding pussy into submission, but in the bright light of the muggy Atlanta morning bleeding through the windows, it looked two inches thicker than normal, and felt a full fifteen taller.
Brad pulled the sheet from his dick.
Holy fucking WOW. That one eyed Sequoia can’t be mine!
Brad was staring at a fat slab of monster meat, a good twelve inches, and nearly half as wide as a baseball bat. He couldn’t imagine a slit in Atlanta, or the entire South for that matter, who wouldn’t get slippery as a bar of soap after swallowing that.
He curled his fingers around his throbbing cock, then closed his eyes, searching for a thread of memory to stitch his thoughts together from the previous night. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember a goddamn thing. He remembered checking into the moderately priced Atlanta hotel, just expensive enough to give the bean counters in Division 13 something to bitch about. But he didn’t remember which hotel, and sure as shit didn’t remember why
he was in Atlanta, or if he had come with Grayson or alone.
Then again, how could he remember anything when every drop of blood in his body was swelling the walls of his cock? There was a saying about how men couldn’t think when their little head was in charge. While Brad had been led to many dumb decisions, thanks to his cock, he’d never been so pre-occupied by thoughts of sex that he could do nothing else ... until now.
He had to cum and he had to cum now. It wasn’t an impulse, it was a biological fucking imperative!
Brad wrapped his fingers tighter around his dick, his eyes widening at the surprising girth, then started to pump his pain into pleasure. He closed his eyes and sank into the images that were strobing through his mind – powerful, conflicting, and some of them smothering all sense of the reality he knew.
Brad pumped himself harder, as thick veins thrummed against his fingers. He eased his digits down to the base, afraid that he would start jacking so fast that the friction would burn him at the tip.
“AAAaaaahhhhh,” he moaned, throwing his head back and driving his dick faster toward its inevitable spill.
Images he didn’t understand tumbled through his mind like mislaid memories:
He was in a bathroom with jade green tiled walls and mahogany colored wood. A girl with lightly bronzed skin was on her knees, looking up at him with wide doe eyes, and long cascades of coffee-colored hair showering each shoulder. “Please,” she begged. I have to suck your cock.” Her tank top was pulled over the top of a pair of unbelievable tits, with blush-pink nipples pointing straight like two tiny bullets.
That must’ve been the girl from last night. He must have brought her up to the room.
No, that’s not what happened...
He suddenly remembered the girl who had actually been in the room, riding his reamer like she was training for the rodeo.
The memory sent a strong current of testosterone surging through his body.
Brad spotted a bottle of massage oil on the nightstand. He twisted his body and reached over to grab it with his left hand, then tipped it upside down over his dick, pouring it like syrup on a tall stack, as he stroked himself fast enough to start a fire.
The girl was riding him reverse cowgirl, so he couldn’t see her face, just her dirty blond hair swinging in circles, as her gorgeous ass swiveled in a series of swift halos. He caught her face in the mirror, the glare from the fractured memory made her look like a goddess. She smiled in the mirror and drove Brad to orgasm.
Cum erupted from his cock in fat globs of hot white lava, the first flying so high Brad figured he must be seeing things since the last time he saw seed slap the ceiling was never. But the next several shots flew nearly as high, each one thicker than the last.
Brad’s shoulders dug deeper into the mattress as his body made a rainbow across the bed. He continued pumping his still throbbing cock, milking every drop and sprinkling his splatter all around the hotel room.
Brad heaved and shuddered, then collapsed, still slightly shaking from pleasure. He pulled the sheets around him, trying to think of the last time in his life he’d ever felt so damned good. He couldn’t remember anything close, though something inside him said it was only because he couldn’t remember the previous night.
What the hell happened?
He kept wracking his brain, trying to stitch his thoughts together, but everything was too frayed to fit.
As an agent for Division 13, Brad made his living from first noticing the tiny details, then drawing the right connections. Not being able to remember even the largest details from the night before was like not being able to cum. He had figured that emptying his dick would allow him to find some clarity to think. But his head was still buzzing in confusion.
Brad rolled toward the window, and felt the heated light spilling through the cotton shroud. From nowhere, a blurry memory popped into view and invited Brad to follow.
He kept his eyes closed and chased the memory.
Brad remembered checking into the hotel with his partner, Agent Courtney Grayson. Division had sent them to Atlanta, though he couldn’t remember why, at least not the specifics. It had to be some sort of sex crime that couldn't be explained with the same playbook used by 99.99% of the other agencies in the U.S., since that’s the only sort of case Division 13 ever assigned.
He remembered his cell phone ringing in the early evening, then looking at the screen and feeling happy to see whoever it was. Brad didn’t know who it had been, but he did remember that the call led him downstairs to the hotel bar. He remembered being nervous to leave since he was leaving something valuable behind, unprotected. Whatever was waiting for him in the bar must’ve been worth it.
But fuck him if he could remember what that was.
Brad kept chasing the memories, then broke into a smile as they started to flow in a steady current. He remembered ordering a double shot of Patron, then sipping it slowly while waiting for whoever was worth it to show. Then he remembered the barfly, with her coffee-colored hair and doe eyes. And the unbelievable tits.
He felt a twitch in his dick at the memory of her 36 Cs, natural and full, her tight tank top pulled up past her nipples while she was on her knees in the bathroom begging to deep throat him. Brad couldn’t believe there was already blood rushing to his just emptied dick, but sure enough he was well on his way to hard as a rock.
He had to have her immediately. He said, “You do know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” Coffee-colored hair laughed. “Of course. Follow me,” she said, then skipped from the bar, across the lobby and over toward the bathroom, stepping into the men’s room. His hands went straight for her tits as she freed his cock, and said, “Holy shit, dude, that’s the biggest dick I’ve ever seen!” She then dropped to her knees and looked up at Brad, her eyes pleading. “Please, I have to suck your cock. Let me suck you off, I want to so, so bad. I want to swallow your cum and have you cum on my face and tits. Then I want to make you hard again so you can fuck me in my pussy, and make me cum like I did for you.” He fucked her mouth for a few minutes, but stopped just as he was about to flood it with spunk, then pulled her to her feet, reached under her skirt, ripped off her panties and played with her clit right before he fucked her into...
There was something else, something the smartest part of Brad was begging him not to remember; a memory pushing at the edge of a creeping horror.
The next thing he remembered was getting the fuck out of the bathroom and running back to the bar where the something that had to be worth it was waiting.
Brad saw her standing at the bar.
More memories flooded his brain, muddled, almost too much to absorb.
It had only been five minutes or so since his last explosion, but Brad was back to twelve inches and throbbing. He wrapped five fingers around his cock while the others curled into a pillow.
The impossible pleasure from a few minutes earlier was only a warm up for now, as every jack of his shaft sent a new and sudden bolt of lightning soaring through his body.
Brad smiled, remembering three things: Red Breath, her, and the case that would change him, and the face of human sex, forever.
But there was something else ... something his brain was hiding from him, and as he emptied himself again, a different feeling overwhelmed him – dread that he’d done something awful.
Then a memory flashed through him — not his memory, but a memory nonetheless. Something in the bathroom, and a note on the mirror.
What the?
He got up and walked across the carpet to the heavy hotel room bathroom door and pulled it open.
In the tub was a nude woman with dark hair and a yin-yang tattoo on her left bicep. Dead.
And on the mirror, a note.
XXX
Chapter Two – Brad Hammer
24 hours earlier...
“I was the one who single-handedly brought down the underground mob outfit that was growing the porn star lips in that seedy, two-story lab, right?”
Agen
t Courtney Grayson rolled her eyes and made her face ugly, which was hard for a looker like her to do. Brad wasn’t sure if her expression was directed at the conversation, which she was surely sick of after the hundredth time hearing it, or the memory of the lab and the forty or so rows of mouth pussies, grown in a sub-basement beneath an apartment building filled with squatters and drug addicts. She said, “Yes, you were the one.”
“And I’m the one who proved the link between the Red Square bombings and alien orgies at the Kremlin, right?”
She nodded, rolling her eyes again. Like Brad figured she would, Grayson finally put a stop to it. She had to. Otherwise he would have kept going, case by case. Brad was relentless on the topic. He was sick and fucking tired of being called “Agent BallGag” by the other agents.
“Look, Hammer, it doesn’t matter how many nicknames you think you’ve earned. No one gets to choose their own. You’re stuck with BallGag until something funnier comes along. If you didn’t want the nickname, you shouldn't have agreed to wear it.”
“I didn’t know it was a dude,” Brad insisted for what felt like the billionth time. “And I didn’t know the room was under surveillance.”
“For the last time, Hammer, live under the assumption that you and I are always under surveillance, including right now, here in the car. The work we do affects the entire world, and yet no one can know we exist. That means Division wants to know what we know, as we know it, if not before. If you can’t see that, then you need to have more than your overactive libido checked.”
“Doesn’t that bother you, to always be looking over your shoulder for the very government you’re working for?”