The XXX Files Season Two (Episodes 5-8)

by Maxxwell, Lexi

  Brad laughed.

  She loved his laugh. Of course, these days Courtney loved everything about him. Ever since the whole thing with Willow Monroe, things were definitely different between them. Better. It had taken them years to accept the inevitable, spent with the two of them forever circling the truth of their attraction. Now they were finally together. Courtney loved Brad so much that she doubted she would, or even could ever stop, which made it hard for her to imagine being with anyone else, and harder to acknowledge his undying need, and know that it might be satisfied somewhere other than in between her legs, or her mouth, or sometimes the mashed valley between her tits where he thrusted until he gave her the only pearl necklace he could ever afford working on a Division salary. Courtney even let Brad have her ass, though they were together for nearly a year before she finally did, and that was only after she caught him with a hand fisted in Adeline’s hair, while he fucked her from behind, screaming that she better get his order right. Courtney stood in the doorway behind them as Adeline screamed, “Cover my fries with your ranch!” which might have been the least sexy thing she had ever heard, and wondered if all waitresses brought work to their bedroom talk.

  Once they got together, Courtney loved Brad even more than she ever thought she could, and that was already a lot. She adored his eyes and smile, and not just his laugh, but the way he made hers so easy to find. She loved how they had started finishing one another’s sentences, but not in that stupid Gerard Butler movie sort of bullshit way, but in the way it was between two people who spent most of their hours together. She loved even the simplest things, like how they would look into each other’s eyes from two sides of a suspect and the entire world would suddenly disappear, or when they would load that suspect into a car and Brad would brush her shoulder as if she were a precious jewel. She loved that they had started planning a future life, with grand adventures together — like going to Europe for fun, instead of traipsing across the continent to track down some sexbot ring in Barcelona, or shutting down botanists developing a deadly lupine aphrodisiac in the South of France.

  Courtney loved that Brad valued her opinion, took stolen pictures of her with his phone when he thought she wasn’t looking, and loved her even more than he did a year before, despite her extra 13 pounds. More than anything, she loved that she could always be herself around him.

  But through all the love, Courtney hated that no matter what, she would always feel like she wasn’t enough.

  Brad scrunched his brow as he moved gazed his list from top to bottom. There were two lists — one a running tally of names provided by the cops, detailing each of the staffers who had reported weird sightings. The list dated a month back to when the sisters first thought something strange was afoot in the abbey. The second list, Brad’s, was filled with students.

  Courtney said, “What do you see?”

  Brad looked from the list to Courtney. “Not much,” he shrugged. “I don’t really see any sort of discernible pattern. He looked up at Courtney and shrugged. “Wanna trade lists?”

  She did, no doubt about it.

  “Yeah,” she said. “The last thing I want you doing is interviewing a bunch of impressionable, virginal sorority girls!”

  “Aw, crap,” Brad laughed, handing her the list. “What was I thinking?”

  “Careful,” Courtney teased, even though she meant every word, “you might just hurt my feelings.”

  “Ha,” he laughed, “that’ll be the day.”

  For the thousandth time that month, Brad proved he didn’t know all that much for a guy who knew a lot.

  Courtney ignored her man, then said, “This should go pretty fast. I’ll question the girls then meet you out at the quad when I’m finished. Sounds great. And you suck.”

  “You suck,” Brad said.

  Courtney blew him a kiss. “Maybe later. If you’re a good boy, I’ll suck and swallow.”

  Brad said, “Fuck, Courtney, now why would you want to go and do that? Don’t you know I’m going to have a hard enough time not thinking about you, without the teasing?”

  Yes, and that’s exactly what I want.

  Courtney glanced around the locker room, made sure they were alone, then leaned into Brad and whispered, “I don’t want you to stop thinking about me, and if you promise to think about me while I can’t be near you, I’ll tell you exactly what I promise to do once we’re back together.” She purred, “Would you like that, Brad Hammer?”

  He whimpered yes.

  Courtney stood on her tip-toes, nibbled his earlobe, and whispered, “I’m going to drag my tongue across your cock, then swallow the whole thing while it’s still soft, enjoying the two seconds it’ll take to get rock hard in my mouth. Then, with my hands, mouth, and tongue, I’ll explore your every inch; running my wet tongue along your throbbing shaft, getting wetter as it laps the length of every vein.”

  “Uh huh...”

  She could see the bulge in Brad’s slacks, and feel the moisture now seeping between her legs.

  “I’m going to suckle your balls until you beg me to cum, then,” she dropped her whisper into an even softer pitch, “I’m going to let you do whatever you want to me, wherever you want to do it.”

  Courtney fell back from her tippy-toes and said, “How does that sound Agent Hammer? Does that sound like something you would like?” She reached down and softly pinched his dick between her pointer and thumb.

  Brad lightly moaned and nodded, but said nothing.

  “Excellent,” Courtney finished her whisper. “Consider it a date. But remember, you promise to think about me.”

  “Of course,” Brad leaned in to kiss her, then stumbled back several feet in surprise as the locker room door burst open. An old janitor, as sad looking as Paul Giamatti but three times fatter, came into the locker room dragging a bucket behind him. It looked like it would take an army of clowns to make the man smile, though Courtney couldn’t blame him with all the crust to scrape and clean.

  Brad laughed. “Man, I’d hate to have your job.”

  XXX

  CHAPTER 3 — Brad Hammer

  Brad spent 40 minutes questioning Saint Ursula staff, and after two-thirds of an hour had exactly dick to go on. About half of the school’s teachers were nuns, which made Brad’s job especially difficult. It wasn’t that he didn’t respect their more conservative views — not everyone worked for Division 69 and dealt with spunk as a regular part of their normal workday — it was that Brad thought the clinical words for stuff like dick, pussy and jizz were stupid. Who said penis, vagina and sperm? No one, that’s who, and using words that felt wrong on his tongue made Brad feel like an asshole, especially since he couldn’t have imagined their reactions being that much different if he went balls to the walls with his language in the first place.

  The last nun was Sister Mary Cecelia Clare, who Brad thought looked a little too yummy to be wearing the cloth — a little like one of his favorite porn stars, April May. Throughout their exchange, as bad as it made him feel, Brad kept picturing her naked. He pictured himself slapping her pretty face with his dick, blaming it on the Red Breath in his head to keep from feeling like he had a sure ticket to hell if there was one. He figured a girl that good-looking had to be at least semi-familiar with cock since it wasn’t like she was a nun in high school — when every guy in all four classes was likely jerking to her yearbook photo, yet Sister Mary Cecelia Clare seemed horrified if not downright offended by every word from his mouth. The worst part was, Brad wasn’t trying to be offensive at all.

  He asked her a simple question. “Have you seen any penises or ejaculates, invisible or otherwise?” But judging by Sister Mary Cecelia Clare’s cold hard stare, she heard him say, “Have you seen any giant ghost cocks shooting spooge inside the church?”

  Brad left Sister Mary Cecelia Clare’s office feeling as if there was something seriously wrong with him, and hating that all his interviews hadn’t led to a single lead. He thanked the sister for her time, then headed toward the
girl’s dorm to see if Courtney had had any luck.

  Brad was a good boy, and had done as promised by keeping his partner at the top of his thoughts, at least through the first 35 minutes or so, until he started speaking with Sister Mary Cecelia Clare and thinking of her as April May, which of course made him wonder what sort of panties nuns wore since it definitely wasn’t a lace thong like April had in “Inspect Her Gadget 2.”

  Brad was around a hundred yards from the dorm, wondering if the depths of his depravity went much deeper than imagining Sister Mary Cecelia Clare wearing a lace thong and peeling it to the side so she could take it in the ass, when a hot young coed bounced up to Brad and asked him if he had a minute.

  “Of course,” Brad said, imagining her naked. “How can I help you?”

  “Are you here investigating the locker room ... uh ... stuff?”

  “Yup,” Brad laughed. “That’s me.”

  “Well,” the hot young coed batted her eyes, “I think I might know something that could help you.”

  “Oh?” Brad had a sudden, genuine interest, beyond the one twitching his dick. “And what’s that?” He reached into his jacket for the small notepad and pen he kept tucked in the pocket.

  The hot girl swallowed, looking suddenly nervous. Either because of the Red Breath inside him, or because the Breath made it easy to be the sexual deviant he naturally was, Brad imagined her swallowing a load of his yogurt.

  “I don’t think I should tell you here,” she said. “It might be dangerous. Besides, I think I’d rather show you. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Of course,” Brad said, clicking the pen, looking at his watch, and wondering how far Courtney was getting with her own round of questioning, and whether he should grab her before getting to the coed’s discovery. Then, again, either because of the Red Breath in his blood or because nature made him an asshole, he smiled, said, “Lead the way,” then fell into step behind the hot girl.

  “What’s your name?” Brad asked as they rounded the library, apparently headed toward the lecture hall. As if to confirm their direction, the hot girl turned back toward Brad, pointed at the auditorium.

  “We’re headed there,” she said. “And my name is April.”

  Well, goddammit.

  Brad followed April through the entrance, down the aisles, and then backstage. As they were stepping into the shadows, she turned back to Brad and said, “Don’t worry. No one ever comes back here during the day.”

  “And what you’re showing me has to do with the case, right? What we’ve already seen in the locker room?”

  “Yes,” April nodded, stepping deeper into the shadows.

  Of course, April was lying, and Brad suspected as much the second they started walking toward the auditorium. Now, together in such a small, closed-in space, Brad could smell her lust. He knew he should about face; turn around and get back to Courtney before he did something stupid, but he couldn’t. Brad was trapped by his momentum, forced to be a selfish cheating dog by the Breath in his blood.

  His cock pounded hard as April’s ass swayed in the shadows a few feet in front of him. He smiled, knowing he was seconds from spilling his load.

  “OK,” she said, coming to a full stop in what seemed to be a costume and prop room. Brad hoped she didn’t want him to dress in anything weird. “I have a confession.”

  Let me guess: You cheated on your entrance exam.

  “I don’t really know anything about what’s been happening in the locker room, but I saw you earlier and thought you were cute.” She turned her eyes wider and smile brighter. “I was hoping you might want to have some fun.”

  Brad wanted to be a good boy, and for a second almost said no. But he couldn’t do that — his dick wouldn’t let him — so he just stood there frozen instead.

  April said, “Are you worried about your partner? Because if you are, I promise, she’ll never know a thing.”

  Like that, he was all over her.

  Even though Brad knew he could get April to worship him, he felt an aching need to worship her first, so he grabbed a coat from a nearby rack, dropped it to the floor, then fell to his knees — not wanting scuff marks or evidence to stain his slacks — then yanked her skirt down in a single fluid motion, and followed it by sliding a pair of thin pink panties down to her ankles.

  April smiled, then whimpered.

  Brad ran his tongue from knee to inner thigh, then to April’s inner crease. He looked up at her, smiling. She nodded, and Brad spread her legs and buried his face in her bitchcake.

  Brad teased April’s dripping pussy with his softly lapping tongue as she peeled the tight tee from her body and started kneading her right tit, pinching her nipples and softly moaning. Brad spread her pussy wider with a pair of fingers while lapping faster along the upper rim of her lower lips. She shuddered each time Brad’s finger found her nub. He shoved his fingers inside her, harder by the shudder.

  Warmth flooded from Brad’s tongue to April’s insides, then up through her lower stomach. Her hands went from her breasts to Brad’s hair, pushing his face deeper into her DNA drive. He stabbed and withdrew, repeating the motion over and over until April’s legs started to tremble.

  Brad could feel her scream before she actually did. He pulled his mouth from her pussy and glared up at her, then launched to his feet and slapped his hand on her mouth.

  Oh great, if someone walks in now, I am SO losing my job.

  She bit his finger and Brad yanked it away. Then April winked and started chewing on her lip, thrusting her hips into the open air between them. Brad’s fingers replaced his tongue as he twisted two and then three digits inside her. April bucked against his hand, pushing harder against him, as Brad slammed his knuckles into her ass.

  A hot mess of liquid shot down his arm. April smiled down at Brad, then yanked him up to her mouth as the taste of her twat still frothed on his tongue. She slipped a button through its hole, then frantically tugged his slacks to his ankles on the way to her knees, taking his dick in her mouth and sliding her tongue around his head with a swivel before shoving him as far down her throat as she could.

  Brad guided her head with his hands, rocking her mouth back and forth over the length of his rock hard cock. One of her hands grasped at his base while the other fondled his balls, rolling them in her hand like a pair of lucky dice.

  The foreplay was nice, and Brad was digging it, but he thought of the danger of getting caught — either by Courtney or one of the sisters — and, fueled by the Red Breath, tore his dick from April, then scooped her up from the floor and roughly bent her in half.

  She turned back to Brad, eyes wide and mouth growling, then giggled, said, “Yummy,” and slapped her hands on the wall, waiting for entry. His hand found her slick, dripping hole as he brushed his cock across it, from bottom to top, wanting to hear her beg.

  April knew what he wanted and was happy to give it. “Please ... Please!” she begged.

  Brad roared into motion, plunging himself into her hungry hole, shoving his pelvis against her, fast and deep, holding her hips as he rocked his body hard against them. One hand held April against the wall while the other slipped between her legs and started furiously rubbing his fingers across her pussy.

  He fucked her faster and harder, grunting, no longer giving a shit for her pleasure, just wanting to get off as fast as he could. A few seconds before Brad had been rubbing her pussy, trying to bring her to orgasm before he got his, but the Red Breath was now in control. He dug his thumbs into her skin, using April’s body for leverage as he pounded her without mercy.

  She screamed, clearly unable to help it. Brad didn’t stop, but used the fear as fuel to fuck her faster. She shook as Brad felt her climax approaching. April screamed again, grabbing at the wall, her body rattling with pleasure as her tits swung down in front of her. Brad grabbed a nipple, and squeezed, intensifying April’s orgasm by blending pleasure with pain. She screamed for a third time — the loudest of all and the one Brad was sure would get
them found out — rocking her ass harder against his dick.

  Her back arched as she came, lifting her onto her tiptoes. Her scent was everywhere, humid from the heat of their blended bodies. Brad couldn’t hold back, nor did he want to. He thrusted again, then held himself to the hilt, his skin mashed against hers as he shot giant loads of hot cum deep into her cunt.

  He thought of Courtney, then Willow and the hundreds of women between them — he felt grateful that he’d learned to control the Breath in his blood as well as he had, which meant turning encounters like the one with April into amazing sex, rather than a dangerous dance with possible death.

  Brad helped April to her feet, then moved a sweaty clump of hair from in front of her face. She smiled, then giggled and said thank you. Before he could answer, the short hairs on his neck all bristled at once.

  Brad heard heavy breathing, as if someone were behind them ... watching.

  He launched himself toward the sound of the breathing, coming from the far side of the costume room just a few feet away. Halfway there he was slapped in the face with an impossibly large wad of ectoplasmic spunk.

  “Fuck!” he screamed, pulling up his pants and chasing what looked like a heat blur outside the auditorium and across the campus.

  In bright daylight the shadow disappeared. After turning in circles and seeing nothing, Brad went back to the costume room, wiping handfuls of sticky goop from his body.

  Holy fuck — this guy cums more than I do!

  “I think you need to change,” April said.

  “No shit,” Brad grumbled.

  They searched for 10 minutes together — certainly longer than their coital encounter — but since there were almost no men’s clothes at all they found nothing Brad could wear other than a pimp costume for a play the drama department had put on a month or so before. April said the performance wasn’t very good at all, but that the pimp had been “almost as funny as ‘Always Sunny.’”