by Jean Roberta
He seemed surprised. ‘Will you show me?’
‘I will.’
We galloped through our roast chicken and vegetables.
‘Can we have the strawberries and cream served in your room?’ I asked.
He snapped his fingers and gave the order.
We left the dining room, Karl carrying another bottle of wine, and hurried upstairs towards his room.
‘Take off all your clothes,’ I commanded. ‘I prefer to work in the nude.’
He removed his suit, his shirt and tie, his underclothes. I gazed at his penis, riding hard and high. His clear blue eyes smiled at me. He had such an open expression I couldn’t imagine him being a double agent. Had Control been right?
I let fall my skirt and stood before him in my basque, black stockings and stilettos. He came up to me and unlaced my front.
‘Beautiful,’ he said, his hands caressing my shoulders, my stomach, my hips. He undid my suspender belt. Then he eased off my stockings, stroking the curves of my calves, the hollows of my ankles. As he bent over, I slid my fingers towards his anus and played with his hole. What a perfect butt! I moved my hand over his slim hips and up to his muscular shoulders. His skin was pale coffee, an all-over tan.
With an effort I stepped back. ‘Try to assault me.’ I rooted my body and got into the ‘ward off’ position.
He ran towards me, grabbed my arm and I threw him back against the bed.
‘Blimey,’ he said.
‘Now from behind.’
He tried again, and I flung him to the carpet.
‘Ouch!’
‘Tie me up,’ I said, ‘and have another go.’
Karl undid the leather straps from his case and fastened my wrists to the bed head.
‘You can’t get out of that.’ He bent over me in a threatening movement, I drew up my legs and kicked him in the stomach. He gasped, although I deliberately hadn’t hit him hard.
‘What about if I tie your ankles, too?’
‘Try it,’ I pushed the soles of my feet into his face as he endeavoured to do so. At length he had to give up, taking my toes and kissing them.
I squirmed with delight and spread-eagled my legs so he had the best view of my cunt. Combat always turns me on.
Karl’s cock thickened. He leant down and sucked my pussy, tonguing right into my slippery hole, coming up for air, then pushing his head down again, his dark curly hair between my legs. My flesh tingled, my clitoris swelled. He found my nub and pinched it between his lips. My stomach contracted – oh, this pleasure could go on for ever!
He reached up and undid the straps round my wrists. Freed, I stroked his hair, pressing him down. I released the pressure, he came up for air, his face smeared with my honey. I licked it off. He bent his knees, came further up the bed and presented me with his bulbous member. I licked all round the head, down the shaft and ran my tongue towards his heavy balls, taking each tenderly in my mouth. He groaned as I found his G spot in front of his anus. I spent some time running my tongue all over this vulnerable area and he let out little gasps of delight.
‘Don’t forget the strawberries,’ I murmured.
Obediently, he fetched over a handful and rubbed them on my breasts. The juice trickled like rivulets down my body and he licked my skin. He shoved another half dozen up my cunt and began to eat, greedily.
But I wanted more. I couldn’t hold on much longer, and neither, I guessed, could he.
The last of the strawberries consumed, I lifted my legs over his shoulders. With a gasp of excitement, he thrust his cock into my cunt. It felt so good. He began to move inside me, I clenched my muscles to hold him more tightly. He plunged in further, pumping into my hungry cunt. He thrust in and out, rubbing my clit to distraction.
‘I’m coming!’ I cried.
‘So am I!’
We climaxed together, waves of ecstasy filling my body like vibrant colours and transporting me to a land where everything was so glorious I could have cried.
Panting, we lay close beside each other on the bed. It was an effort to say what I had to say.
‘Wonderful, Karl, but I’m worried about my wrists.’
Karl jumped up, his face full of concern. ‘They’re a bit red, but Sandi, you said you were okay …’
‘I know, sweetie, but would you be kind enough to fetch me my first aid kit. It’s in my room – number five on the ground floor.’ I leant over to my purse and extracted the key. I laughed. ‘Put on your underpants first.’
‘I won’t be long, darling – I’m so sorry.’ He raised my wrists and kissed them. ‘Soon be better.’
I waited until I heard his footsteps fade. I sat up and opened his case, now strapless and easy to unlock. Inside were several books, folders marked ‘Top Secret’ and wads of paper. Quickly, I opened the folders. Mathematical formulae which meant nothing to me, but words which did. My knowledge of Russian is limited, but I saw enough to realise Karl’s top secret formulae had been written with the Ruskies in mind. Sadly, I recognised Control had told me the truth. Karl was indeed a traitor. And it was my job to expose him.
I folded one of the sheets of paper and stuck in the my suspender belt. It nestled against my satisfied pussy. I pulled on my skirt before Karl returned. He carried my kit containing Vaseline. It seemed a shame to waste the ointment, particularly as I would never see Karl again.
I smeared the cream on my wrists. ‘Do you fancy – a touch of sodom? The ultimate sin?’
‘Would you like that, Sandi?’
‘I sure would.’ At my words, his erection heaved into life again, bulging from his pants like the forceful member it was.
I crouched on the bed, my bum raised high. Karl anointed my anus with Vaseline and gently pressed his way in.
‘Harder,’ I encouraged him.
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘You won’t.’ What a pity I worked for London Centre. If only I had been an ordinary girl, like Marigold perhaps, enjoying a night of pleasure.
As he pressed in, I climaxed again. Karl cried out, too.
‘Brilliant. I’ve always wanted to do that to a girl.’
‘I’ve always wanted a man to do it to me,’ I confessed. ‘We’re both virgin anus fuckers.’
‘Love you and leave you, Karl.’ I sighed. He was such a lovely man. ‘I have to go. Things to do.’
Karl looked so crestfallen. I raised my arms and kissed his mouth. His tongue found the back of my throat. Oh, how I should miss him!
I lowered my voice. Would he take the hint and escape?
‘The Earl of Pensley travels abroad – I believe the best amber’s found in Moscow.’ I picked up my loose beads and departed.
‘Well done, Sandi. Another job completed.’
My heart raced. Control swivelled in her chair. ‘Once you’d left Dr Smith’s room, we barged in and took him.’
A sliver of ice ran down my spine.
‘No exchange?’
‘Not this time. Dr Smith’s too important. He’ll be settling into his flat off Red Square by now.’
‘What d’you mean?’
She heaved her shoulders.
‘Karl’s continuing his work for Moscow Centre – but he’s employed by us at the same time.’
‘He’s still a double agent?’
‘Yes – playing the game in Moscow, instead of London.’
‘So – they believe he’s one of theirs, whereas, he isn’t?’
‘Absolutely.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Can we trust him?’
Control didn’t answer.
‘Do you think we’ll ever be friends with the communists?’ I asked.
‘Give it six years,’ she replied. ‘New friends, new enemies. By the way, what was all that about amber beads in Moscow?’
‘I lost my necklace dancing,’ I said, without changing my expression.
She nodded. ‘Good show, Sandi. Bugged the room, naturally. Enjoyed listening. Virgin anus fuckers, my arse! Clever girl.’
>
I collected my bonus. Six years might be a long time to be without amber beads, but who knows, I might just wait.
Eat Me
by Elizabeth Cage
She was right. The bloke was urinating against the wall in the alleyway beside the bus station. Quite blatantly, too. The question was, what to do about it. And Joanne knew she had to do something. It wasn’t a situation she’d encountered before. Not like telling someone off for trampling on the grass when there was a No Trespassing sign.
It was 6.30pm and Joanne had just finished another stressful day at the call centre where she worked in Customer Services. She didn’t want any more hassle. She was fed up with dealing with other people’s complaints. At this moment all she wanted was to get home to her nice quiet flat and lovingly devour a double chocolate fudge cake.
“Excuse me.”
As she spoke, the man glanced over his shoulder at her, not in the least distracted from the task in hand.
“Excuse me,” she repeated. “I don’t think you should be doing that in a public place.”
“Why not?”
She was incredulous. “Why not? Because you’re breaking the law.”
“Show me the sign, then, that says No Pissing.”
For a moment she was taken aback. The man stared at her, his toffee-brown eyes brazen, and she noticed that his caramel-coloured hair looked soft and freshly washed, and his bronzed complexion reminded her of a crème brulée. She began to feel hungry.
“You shouldn’t need a sign. It’s obvious.”
He studied her curiously, gestured around him to the numerous passers-by who behaved as if it was a normal Friday night occurrence in the rush hour. “Do you see anyone complaining?” he asked.
Now he was getting on her nerves.
He continued cheekily, “Am I inundated with protests? I think not.”
They had reached stalemate.
Glaring at him, Joanne noticed that although he was behaving like a lout, he was not dressed like one. In fact, he was smartly attired, with liquorice-black trousers, a creamy white shirt open at the neck and a leather blouson-style jacket the colour of Bournville chocolate. He looked good enough to eat.
Joanne wondered what to do next. Perhaps she should call the police. She was certain he must be committing some kind of criminal offence. Indecent exposure. Or was it gross indecency? Thank goodness her mobile phone was tucked neatly in her shiny handbag. Her fingers encircled it, cradling, ready to dial. And then the strangest thing happened. She was seized by a powerful urge to place her hands elsewhere.
The man noticed with interest where her eyes were straying.
“Do you want to touch it?” he asked.
Appalled at the suggestion, Joanne shook her head vigorously. But the man took her hand and gently placed it over his rapidly stiffening cock. She felt that she should have protested. Instead, she closed her fingers. His circumference and length were indeed impressive, crying out to be touched. She grasped him firmly and began to move her hands up and down.
“Harder,” he cried.
Joanne considered the steel rod in her hand. “I don’t think you could get much harder,” she replied. He groaned.
“Oh, you mean you want me to rub harder?”
Within minutes, the man came loudly. Joanne suddenly wondered about the passers-by. But it was getting dark now, and no-one seemed to notice them.
“Thank you.” The man calmly zipped up his flies and smoothed down his shirt.
She nearly replied, “No problem. Think nothing of it.” She even considered,
“That will be fifty pounds please.” Her head was spinning. She fumbled for a tissue to wipe the stickiness from her hand.
“Thank you,” he repeated, kissing her lightly on the forehead and before she could respond his hand was under her stretch-cotton skirt, between her legs, his fingers feather-touching through her mocha tights.
She was vaguely aware of her own murmuring, and surprised at her own excitement. She remembered reading an article somewhere that sex was so much easier with a stranger. And after all, she was hungry. Very hungry.
Carefully, he pulled down her tights. She didn’t protest. In fact, she felt almost embarrassed at the creeping wetness that she knew must be visible through her white cotton knickers. Smiling, he pulled the fabric to one side and continued to stroke her clit.
“Relax,” he whispered.
But her muscles seemed to be going into involuntary contractions as his thumb pressed softly, increasing the pressure between her legs. She groaned. In response, he teased her with his fingers, playing with her swollen pussy, her juices supplying all the lubrication he needed as he slowly slid a finger inside her. She gasped as tiny electrical impulses were soon transformed into jolts that threatened to consume her aching body. Any self control she was clinging onto soon vanished. She thrust her hips forward, pushing urgently against his hand. He moved his finger in and out of her, and she became aware of the slurping sounds emanating from her pussy, like he was dipping into a pot of honey. Lifting a finger to her lips, he said, “Taste yourself.” As she licked the juices dripping from his finger, his tongue joined hers, relishing the taste.
“Good, isn’t it?” he breathed. He ran the base of his thumb around her clit, adding to the exquisite sensations that threatened to engulf her completely. She shuddered as the first wave hit her, so powerful he had to slip his other hand around her waist to steady her. But still his fingers continued to stroke and almost before she knew it, she was coming again, gasping with the force of it.
When she was finished he got down on his knees and licked her clean, relishing each mouthful as if it were golden syrup.
“I’m still hungry,” he said. “What about you?”
“Ravenous,” Joanne replied, still reeling. “We’ve had the starter – how about the main course?”
“And mustn’t forget the dessert,” he murmured, pushing back her fitted jacket and caressing her erect nipples through her blouse. He stopped to undo her top button, then the next one, then the next, until the ivory cream lace of her bra was clearly visible. He slid his hand inside, gently squeezing the soft flesh. He closed his eyes, as if savouring the sensation. Joanne wondered how she would feel if someone saw her now. Her work colleagues would be shocked. Her mother would be horrified. But somehow, she didn’t care. She was enjoying herself too much. The man opened his eyes and met her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed red, her lips moist and parted invitingly. Taking her hand he said, “Come with me.”
“I just did,” she sighed.
“I know somewhere close by we can go to.”
Amazed at herself, Joanne scooped up her discarded tights and allowed this total stranger to lead her down a quiet side road, away from the traffic and bustling commuters. What was she thinking? Had she forgotten the meaning of the word ‘caution’? Five minutes later, they were outside what was clearly an expensive restaurant. She felt suddenly foolish. She hadn’t expected him to buy her a meal. When he’d talked about being hungry, she’d imagined he’d meant something else.
“Oh. I thought we were going to......that you wanted to–” she mumbled, blushing.
“And you were right,” he replied, grinning.
Then she noticed the restaurant was in darkness, obviously closed.
“We open in two hours,” he said, taking a key from his pocket. “Plenty of time.”
Joanne hesitated. “What about your boss?”
“I am the boss.”
He flicked a switch and the dining area was flooded with light, revealing clusters of neatly dressed bistro tables, draped in white tablecloths, each decorated with a cut glass stem vase containing a lilac freesia. Tasteful modern paintings adorned the white walls. He led her to a quiet alcove at the back of the restaurant.
“This is reserved for couples who prefer some privacy,” he explained. Briskly removing the vase and bread basket, he lifted her onto the table. His hands on her knees, he carefully parted her legs, his li
ps brushing her thighs. Joanne felt her heart pounding. Pushing her skirt up over her hips, he pulled her knickers down and over her ankles.
“I don’t think we need these, do we?” he asked grinning.
Joanne shook her head as he dropped them onto the polished wood floor.
“You smell wonderful,” he said, burying his face in her neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. “Quite delicious, in fact.”
“Then eat me,” she replied.
And he proceeded to run his tongue between the lips of her labia, causing her to gasp with pleasure. She felt warm and wet, her clit already pulsating with anticipation. He sucked her into his mouth, like he was trying to extract the juice from the sweetest orange. As his tongue probed deeper and deeper, she felt her hot pussy enfolding him. Instinctively, her muscles gripped him, sucking in, then relaxing as he tongue-fucked her. Before long, she was coming again.
“Greedy girl,” he joked, gazing admiringly as she lay sprawled across the table, her juices spreading over the white tablecloth. “You’ll ruin your appetite.” She heard him unzipping his trousers. Her pussy still throbbing, Joanne sat up, and came face to face with his erection.
Feeling it would be bad manners not to return the compliment, she licked her lips and began to suck his renewed hardness rather as she would have done her favourite ice cream lolly.
“That feels good,” he groaned, as she flicked her tongue over his knob, tracing its smooth length. She teased him for some time before turning her attention to his balls, licking each one in turn, rolling it in her mouth like a giant profiterole. She could feel him trembling, and guessed he was close to coming.
“Not yet,” he sighed, pulling away. “I want this to last.”
But he couldn’t resist her for long.
“Feed me,” she demanded and he soon thrust his cock back into her mouth, filling it. He gasped as she deep-throated him before sliding her mouth away, until only the tip of his cock was held tantalisingly between her soft lips. She opened her mouth, releasing him.
“Do you want more?” she asked.
He moaned appreciatively. Once again, she took his cock in her mouth, enveloping it, and began to suck vigorously, squeezing, as if she was trying to milk him dry. Suddenly, he came in violent spurts, the creamy fluid exploding onto her taste buds like heavenly nectar. There was so much of it, too much to swallow it all. The sticky liquid dribbled down the sides of her mouth. She licked her lips, wanting to lap it up. Waste not, want not.
