Date: Tue, 31 Jul 2001 13:59:09 +0100
From: Bob Lilly <lillybob@hotmail.com>
Subject: A Honey Trap

Sir James Cardigan removed the file from his in-tray with more than usual
enthusiasm. Reports from Donald McFee were usually interesting.....even
stimulating. He opened the folder, which contained a thin type-script and a
large brown envelope. He opened this latter carefully with a silver
paperknife (a farewell gift from his comrades in his regiment). Good!
Photographs. The top one was of two young men lying side-by-side, naked,
smoking. That they were smoking cigarettes and were limp-cocked suggested
they had at least temporarily satisfied their passion.

Sir James knocked out his pipe and studied the A4 glossy closely. The blonde
he knew....it was his top agent, Donald. He was still absurdly handsome.
Boyish still, despite his thirty something years. As usual the blonde curly
hair reminded Sir James of his schooldays, and his first love. Charles
Witherspoon. So pretty with his golden curls he had the nickname 'Bubbles'.
And Donald's firm, trim, athletic bottom was no less appetising than his
young friend's had been, so many years ago. Charley Witherspoon was a
high-court judge now....and he himself was Head of  Counter-intelligence. So
no more boyish fun between the sheets for either of them. His files showed
that Charley limited himself to the occasional rent-boy...as did Sir James
himself, though no security file would ever show that!

No wonder Donald was so effective at setting honey-traps. Foreign diplomats,
their wives, matronly senior civil servants, their sons and daughters and
their husbands. They were all putty in his hands. Seduced, compromised,
blackmailed, enlisted as spies. Too easy really.

He sighed, but brightened up at the prospect of a very good read to end the
day. He lifted the phone. 'Miss Stanmore. No interruptions for an hour,
please. ' He locked the door using his new electronic remote device. He
stretched his legs out beside the desk and started to read.


.............................................

		   Operations Oct/Nov 2000, Agent McFee.

The target was identified October 2nd in the Joint Finance Initiative
meeting at the British Embassy. I was in attendance in my cover as
interpreter. Target was also an interpreter for the other side. In the event
neither of us was needed as their delegation all had perfect English. I was
bored, and was drawing on my pad when I noticed the target looking at me ,
surreptitiously. Slim and willowy.  He had those boyish, slavonic good
looks. Perfect complexion with very little need to shave, I guessed, and
wavy dark hair, somewhat longer than socialist conformity permitted......he
would have to be careful! I caught his eye and smiled, as the business
droned on. I was amazed when he blushed like a young girl, and hurriedly
looked away.

I didn't have to be a mind-reader to know I had caught the boy in some
guilty thought! And that thought had included me. He avoided my gaze  for
the rest of the meeting, and left with the crowd of his employers without my
making any contact. But he had been identified as a probable prospect. More,
he could not be an intelligence agent....no-one has ever found how to blush
to order!


...........................................

Sir James looked again at the top photo. Yes, perfect olive complexion. Skin
on his thighs and bottom smooth as a peach. Hairless chest. Good body,
without being muscular. The sort of wiry strength you get in ballet dancers.
Yes! And in teenage boys. Cock circumcised, and elegant in repose. He
compared the two cocks and as he did so his hand slipped to his flies,
unpopped the buttons and liberated his own prick from the cotton and the
expensive tweed. He teased it into full erection, and lifted his arse from
the leather chair to slip his trunks and trousers down to his ankles. his
hand moved slowly up and down the shaft.

You always got good value with Donald's reports, he thought. Sir James had
always stressed that no level of detail could be too much. 'We need to be
aware of your personal trade-craft, my boy. And your reports are ....names
and places  removed of course....... the most valuable training resource.
Both in setting honey traps, and helping our randy officials to avoid
them.Your technique is accepted as near perfect'. It went without saying
that Sir James also revelled in the detail himself....his cock was hard
already and twitching in anticipation.


.............................................
He returned to the typescript:

First contact with the target was made at the reception to mark the
successful conclusion of The Talks. It was at the Ministry of Finance. Again
interpreters were not needed and  I noticed him standing alone, a glass in
his hand. I went over to him.

'Donald McFee. Like you, I'm an interpreter.'

'Yuri Orlov. Yes, I noticed you in the meeting yesterday.' I held his hand
for just a second more than normal when we shook. I could see the surprised
question in his eyes, but ignored it .

'I was bored out of my mind!'

'That was obvious Donald. They'd sack me if  I openly doodled on my pad
while one of them was talking! Some things have changed here, but not that'

'Pompous, self-important idiots. Mine are too! But they aren't  as
unprincipled as yours! Look, this place is dreadful. Let's slip out and go
to a bar I know.'


...........................................................

It was only nine o'clock, so The Pink Parrot was still quiet, calm, and if
not quite respectable, well not yet outrageous. That would start at about
midnight when the real queens put in their appearance. So we were able to
sit at a quiet table....lights subdued. I ordered a bottle of local
champagne from one of the delightful young waiters and paid in dollars as
required (though deutschmarks are acceptable!)  There were perhaps a dozen
clients in the club at this early hour. Most of them Western businessmen
looking for their squeeze that night. And, of course, about twenty 'waiters'
and bar-hosts.

The bar had been there for ten years, to my knowledge, and had figured in
several of my seductions. But since the wall came down it had a more open,
tolerated existance.

We were chatting about how similar and how dreadful our lives were in the
two opposing bureaucracies when a businessman, a German judging by the
accent that cut through his pigeon-Slavonic, came over and asked Yuri to
dance with him. For the second time Yuri blushed bright crimson, but managed
to stutter a polite refusal.

Then, to me,'Dance! Oh, Donald, I just couldn't.'

'He thought you were one of the club-boys. They dance with customers for a
few dollars a dance. Look. He's found one.' The stout German was clutching a
very pretty boy in the standard uniform of tight, black trousers and white
silk shirt. They were swaying together, chest-to chest, and I watched his
be-ringed hands stroking the boy's bottom as they swayed together.
Immediately, the ice broken, six or so other couples were on the floor.

I looked him in the eyes, into those deep, mysterious dark eyes. 'Ah! You
couldn't dance with him, Yuri. But could you dance with me....I'd so like
to!'

Again the deep blush. 'We shouldn't....it's not.......' I smiled and held
his hand in mine as I rose from my chair. Submissive, he followed me, and we
were on the dance floor. He danced well, following my lead. 'You see! What
fun it is!' He laughed, and as the music changed to a slow blues he was
pressing his body up to mine, his hands linked over my shoulder, behind my
neck. I was imitating the German! Caressing Yuri's bottom cheeks, and
pressing my belly against him. I could feel his erection and moved so that
mine moved against his as we swayed rather than danced. He rested his cheek
against mine.

We danced for perhaps ten minutes. The band was unpacking its instruments.
With live music the whole place would soon be jumping. I told him this.
'Let's go and have a sauna. I'm a member at a good one.'

Their saunas are not like ours! Not a bit. In fact they are really central
to working lives, especially for important people. They combine the roles of
golfclub, English gentleman's club, and pub. Men go there to talk, network,
do business, politic etc. And very, very respectable! 'None of that sort of
thing, mother!'

I watched him as he stripped.....this was going to be a pleasant asignment!
You will see from the accompanying photographs that his body is almost
hairless, though he has the physical development of an average seventeen
year-old. (He is in fact twenty). He, with lowered eyes was watching me too
and I carelessly showed him my body. In the hot room there were  three
oldish gents  sitting in a circle. From their very loud conversation they
were obviously military officers and close to being drunk. And obviously not
gay.....not one glance in our direction from any of them. Yuri and I lay
side by side on the hot slab, each with a white towel over our mid-riffs. We
lay,  silent, sweating away the frustration of the working day.

'You know, Yuri, if this were in the UK, there'd be a girl to give you a
massage and anything else you might want.'

'Aweful thought' he muttered.

'And in the US this room would be full of men feeling each other, sucking
and even.........well, I leave it to your imagination! What your bosses
still call the Decadent West!'

He blushed...a third time! And I could see a tent rising up under his towel.
My cock stiffened as I watched his.

'You've the same problem as me,'I said, and for a second flipped my towel
aside to show him my prick standing.  But I immediately stood up and tied
the towel around my waist. 'Cold room  for me....and for you  too I should
think.' I playfully brushed his prick with the back of my hand through his
towel. 'Just one of two or three ways of getting rid of this!' In passing, I
find inuendo and double entendres very useful for introducing gradually the
notion of sex, of setting the scene as it were, and preparing the way for
the direct approach.

Across two rooms, with a scattering of people, and then the Cold . I dropped
my towel and, naked dived in. As usual it took my breath away, but I struck
out across the pool. I saw his hard cock for a second as he dropped his
towel....and knew I would have no problem with my potency when I finally got
him to bed. It was a lovely, straight, long, thin and elegant cock. A cock
to die for.  He dived in after me, and I was pleased to see that he swam
with a strong, athletic stroke. It was too cold to play, but we had the pool
to ourselves and I dived under him, coming up between his legs and brushing
his cock, limp now from the freezing , with my body as I did so. He laughed,
struck off to the edge and hauled himself out. His buttocks opened with the
effort, revealing his secret rose.  I swam behind him and he reached a hand
down to help me out. Just as I was almost out, he let go, and I splashed
back in. As I came up spluttering he laughed. 'That'll teach you......' And
suddenly he blushed again!

This was obviously the best opportunity I would get to seduce and compromise
him, and I took it, inviting him back to my appartment for a nightcap.


..................................................

I put the two glasses on the coffee table, and leaned on the mantlepiece as
I lit  cigarettes for us. I deliberately adopted a romantic pose.....the
mantlepiece, a relic from the pre-revolutionary grandeur of the appartment
when it was still the salon of some nobleman, was white marble. Yuri visibly
relaxed as we chatted. I made up a rigmarole about  my early life in The
Highlands, and I learned he had been brought up by his mother, with whom he
still lived. His father had died in an accident when Yuri was just a babe. I
invented a father who is a sergeant in the army, and a mother who has to
follow him around the world. I invented stories about my life in English
boarding schools where I had suffered by being a Scot. And I certainly held
his attention when I hinted that my blonde prettiness had led to 'certain
practises' in the single-sex school.

'You see, Yuri, these acts are by no means as uncommon in my country as they
are in yours. Most boys in boarding schools will have experienced fondling
another boy's penis. A fair number will  have experimented with mouths and a
large minority even with bottoms. Whereas, here, there is very little play
between men.' I watched him blush! 'Or am I wrong about that? I really know
so little about your country.'

'It is nearly impossible here. And when I......I mean even if a boy
wanted.......well I don't know how he.......' His voice tailed off and he
was  red with embarrassment. 'That was why I was so surprised at the club. I
mean dancing! Men together.'

'But it was nice, wasn't it. I mean it was for me. I enjoyed dancing with
you, Yuri.'

'Oh! Me too, Donald. Me too.'

I handed him his vodka. 'To us. To Yuri and Donald.'

'To us. To Yuri and Donald.'

We threw back the searing liquid.

'Look, Yuri. It's late. You'll never get a taxi now , and I don't have to
tell you how dangerous the streets are at this hour. Why not stay over. I
can run you into your ministry in the morning. It's on the way to my
embassy.'

'I'd like that.'

'Good. The bedroom's there. And use my things in the bathroom if you want.'


..................................................................

Sir James looked at the top photograph again. He'd been rationing himself,
and as usual would only look at the next  when agent McFee's report
indicated it. He wondered if Donald's bisexuality.....so very useful to The
Department.....  had indeed originated in attentions paid to his blonde hair
, his full lips and smooth, boyish bottom at school. Again he found his mind
wandering back to 'Bubbles' Witherspoon. Yes! Donald would certainly have
had his mouth and arse filled had he gone to their School. And so would
Yuri.

Probable , too, that the dark-haired boy had never so much as fondled
another boy's body. Useful, this to the Department. When the wall came down
most taboos had collapsed with it. But this one, against homosexuality,
remained as strong as ever. Gay honey-traps were as effective now as they
always had been. Admittedly in the old days to be caught might have earned
you the camps....especially if the sex was  with a westerner. But nowadays
the social disgrace....and resulting unemployment....was still a powerful
consideration. Their loss and our gain, he concluded.

But back to the report!


...................................................................

I had undressed completely and was laying on the double bed naked when Yuri
came back from the bathroom. He stopped with an amusing double take. He had
after all seen me naked ...if only for a moment....at the pool.

'I sleep nude. Hope that's ok?'

'No problem.' he said, but he was blushing. I could almost hear his heart
racing as he finally found his darkest fantasies on the edge of realisation.
He dropped the shirt and socks he was carrying onto a chair, and undid his
trousers, allowing them to drop to the floor. And now his boxer trunks. He
stood there facing me, half-erect. He didn't know what to do next, so I gave
him something to do. My cock was  stiffening at the prospect of having that
hard little arse.

'Put out the overhead light...there's a dear. Switch's over there. And then
come to bed.' The bedside lamp gave a soft, intimate light. As he walked
back towards the bed his cock swayed, graceful, arcing down, at least
semi-erect. Even here, on his tight balls and up to his flat stomach, his
body hair was slight, though dark and glossy. His legs and arms were as slim
as a young boy's, and his hips and bottom too. His face was almost feminine
with his wavy dark hair and full lips. Altogether a very pretty mouthful. I
found myself licking my lips in anticipation, my own cock hardening. He lay
on the bed beside me, a foot or soof no-mans-land between us.

Now or never! I leaned over him, took his head between my two hands, and
planted my lips against his. I felt his body stiffen under me and for a
moment thought he would reject me, shame and fear triumphing over desire.
But as I kissed him, I felt his body relax , and his mouth opened as I
slipped my tongue in. I released his head from my hold but only so that I
could feel his body. It was every bit as good as I had suspected when we
were dancing. I ran my hands over his chest and hips, and now he was
responding, his hands running over my back, kneading muscles on my
shoulders, and on my buttocks. Still we kissed, neither wanting, nor daring
perhaps, to stop.

Finally I had to come up for air, and instead placed my lips over his nearly
hairless nipple, sucking until it stood, a hard little grain, in my mouth.
He moaned as I licked his other nipple into erection. Now I traced a spiral
pattern with the tip of my tongue over his chest and belly. I gripped his
hips  and, still with the lightest of touches from my tongue, ran it down
over the helmet of his cock, down the shaft. His hips rose in an involuntary
movement, inviting me to take him in my mouth. His hands gripped my
shoulders.

'Please, Donald......'

I ignored him, and licked the skin of his his tight scrotum. His cock
twitched, and I knew it would explode in orgasm almost the moment I mouthed
it. This was certainly a tempting prospect, but there was a real danger that
once he had come guilt and shame would replace lust, and I would be left
without having had what I really wanted....his arse. And what I really
needed for the honey trap....pictures of his pleasure at being fucked in the
arse.

I was still holding him tight, a hand on each hip. I turned him over on his
side and spread his buttocks with both hands. His arsehole, which had
twinkled at me so briefly in the sauna,   was brown and puckered, revealed
now between the olive, smooth delights of his bottom cheeks. Apart from a
very light fuzz he was still hairless. I pressed my face into his cleavage,
and licked. I was rewarded by that same moan of pleasure. My tongue now,
pursed and hard as I penetrated him with it, first into him, and then round
and round in a circular motion.

'Oh! That tickles, Donald....'

'You have a lovely, tight little arse, Yuri.' I heard my voice muffled by
his body.

'Don't stop!'

I did stop, but only for the time it took to get a squeeze of KY on my
finger and return to relaxing his anus. I slipped the tip of my finger in,
very gently, and started to finger-fuck him.
He was writhing under me, and was taking the full length of my index finger
as it slipped easily in and out. A second finger. And a third. There was
going to be no problem with this one! The second photograph in the report
documents this phase of the operation.


...............................................................

Sir James at last allowed himself a look at the second one, slipping the
first to the bottom of the heap. The dark-haired boy was lying on his side .
He was biting his arm with a look almost of pain, but surely of pleasure ,
on his face. One leg was stretched out, and the other bent so the slim but
rounded shape of his buttocks and thigh was accentuated. The blonde boy was
pressed up against him, his face buried in the other's neck and shoulders,
his hand pressed between the other's legs.

He was in danger of coming as he looked at the picture and stroked his cock.
So he returned to the typescript.

...................................................

I rolled him on his back, my fingers still in him, fucking him. Again , his
cock was tempting, but again I postponed that pleasure. Instead I kissed him
again before telling him 'Now I'm going to fuck you Yuri.' They have at
least a dozen words for that , and I used a gentle, romantic one. The sort
of expression a bridgroom might use to his bride on their wedding night.

'Shall I kneel?'

'Later. This time I want to see your face....'

I positioned him on his back so that one of the cameras would focus on his
face and another be centred on his belly. I have selected two photographs
from some thirty of this phase. They are numbered 3 and 3a.


............................................................

Sir James turned over the glossy paper. Yes, Number three. This was clearly
the moment of entry. The boy's face, and below that his belly, and the
suspicion of another body. The boy's face was contorted in pain, his teeth
clenched and his lips drawn back. Sir James laughed, and remembered his
first time....part of the 'new-boy's' initiation at school. It had been that
thug Rugglestone who did it first. It had hurt....but not for long. He had a
sudden thought, wondering what happened to Rugglestone. Easy to find out! He
scribbled himself a note. Soon the full weight of Military Intelligence
would be looking for Mr Rugglestone! No, it didn't hurt for long. Photo 3a
showed that same slavonic  face with a mysterious smile.....was that where
Leonardo found it? Yes , it was clear the boy was enjoying his first
fucking.


..................................................................

As usual, at the moment of first penetration there was a sudden sharp pain,
even though I was as gentle and careful as I know how to be. I have found it
is better to press on, and that with the withdrawal, and second long, gentle
push the pain is replaced by , if not quite pleasure yet, then an acceptable
discomfort. And of course, an increasing pleasure. We were fucking properly
now, my full length in and out, his hips rising to meet me. And our lips
together in a long kiss, tongues inter-mingling.

I needed to come up for air again. I broke off the kiss, and raised myself
on one elbow, still fucking with the same slow rhythm. His cock was hard. I
reached down with my free hand and grasped it. I could feel it throbbing and
twitching in my loose hold. A drop of cum in its eye. He was close to
coming. I fucked harder and wanked at his cock. He moaned and came, great
globules of white cum spattering up over his belly and chest. I released the
cock and collapsed on his chest, his cock trapped between our two bodies,
still twitching and oozing cum. I fucked faster, and pressed my lips to his
as I came. Six sharp thrusts, each culminating in a spurt deep into him.

The shot of him coming with me deep in his arse is numbered 4. The shot of
our embrace at the end is numbered 4a. I should stress there are many other
shots as the camera was on twenty-second automatic.


...............................................

Sir James nodded. Yes, always the professional , our Donald. And the full
sequence could well be edited for a forthcoming Anglo-American training
exercise.He needed something to impress the Americans with The Department's
expertise. There were still some things the Brits excelled at!  He read on,
forgoing the temptation to allow himself to come. Later!


.................................................

There was, happily, no shame, guilt or embarrassment from this newly
initiated boy. He explained to me that since puberty, and maybe before, he
had always dreamed of male bodies in his wet dreams. And that if he
masturbated...which mostly he didn't....or so he claimed (?)..
it would be with images of young men in his mind. He had been painfully in
love with a boy at school, but had never dared do anything.

'I wish I'd known you when I was fourteen, Yuri!'

'I'm too old for you, Donald.' His face was a picture of misery.

'You're perfect, Yuri. You're the best I've ever had. No, I just feel sorry
for the teenage boy who so wants sex, but can't because the other boys
won't. And yet, surely they wanted it too? What a tragedy. Wouldn't happen
in my country!  I wish I'd been there to make love to you those years ago.'

'You're wonderful, Donald. So kind. And so gentle. And yet so strong. ' He
felt down to my cock, which as usual was still hard after the first fuck.
'Shall we again?'

'In the shower this time. We're both hot. It'll be good in the shower.'

There are two shots from the shower phase. The first shows Yuri and myself
soaping each other. That is number 5. 5a shows Yuri in my arse. This is a
transcription of the audio tape taken from the microphone in the shower:

McFee: That's not too cold , is it?

Subject: Perfect, Donald. I love it when you soap me. Over my back, now my
chest, my belly, my bottom, and now my balls. I'm hard again.

McFee: Now everything I do to you, you do to me! Yes, like that. My balls
and cock too.

Subject: How many fingers have you got in me?

McFee: Three......put yours up me. Yes, not too hard at first. Yes. Like
that. In and out like that. God I love it. Hug me. Kiss me.

McFee: (after a silence). I can feel you hard against my belly. God, you've
a lovely cock. Look, I'll brace myself against the wall, and stick my bottom
out. Now, soap it again, and then slip that tool up me.  That's right.
Plenty of soap. Now! Ouch! It still hurts me first...always has. But that's
good now. And reach round me and wank me. I need both hands on the wall to
support me. Time your hand with your cock. Run your hand up my shaft as you
push it in, and down as you pull it out. God! You sure you've never done
this before. God! That's good.

Subject: I can't hold it. It's too good. Dear God! I'm coming. Yes!

Subject: (after a silence) I forgot you while I was coming. I forgot to jerk
you. I'm so sorry, Donald.

McFee: We all forget when we're coming! I love your tongue on my neck. Look,
kneel down on the shower mat. Yes! You know what I want? I can see you do.
Lovely. Lick it. Down the front where it's sensitive. Now the knob. And now
in your mouth. Now suck while I push in and out. I'll hold your head still,
Yuri, and push in and out as if I'm fucking your mouth. Lovely soft, full
lips. God. My turn. Swallow. Yes, lovely, swallow! Yes. All. Swallow all!
God!.

The tape ends there, and although there are photographs of the two of us
sleeping happily, his arm over my chest....we have not included them in the
report.


..........................................................

Sir James kicked the trousers away from his brogues and walked to the wall
cabinet. He opened it, poured a whisky, and returned to his work. His cock
waved in front of him as he walked.


...........................................................

In the event I did not need to blackmail. The conversation was as follows.
'Yuri, why is your society so down on people like us. I mean people who
enjoy their own sex?'

'It is dangerous to them. They see it as subversive of their socialist value
system. And the Church was always against it....although they do say the
priests.......'

'And is it subversive.'

'I hope so!'

'Do you mean that, Yuri. Would you like to see it change?'

'You know I would, Donald. Kiss me. Mmmmmm'

'You could help change it, you know. You must see a lot of interesting stuff
when you're translating?'

'Sure. Kiss me again. That's right, your hand there. Especially the papers
we steal from you and the Americans. They all have to be translated.'


...............................................

'Bingo!' thought Sir James


................................................

'Could you get them for us...I mean for the Embassy?'

'Easy! They're all on my hard disk. And it's easy to get floppies in and out
of the Ministry.Yes, just like that. Mmmmmm.'

'There's someone you must meet, Yuri. His name's Gregor Conningham.


.............................................

The case meeting with Head of Section, Gregor Conningham and myself has been
minuted separately by HOS. But in outline the decision was to give the
development of this agent (codenamed Toy) the highest priority, with
Conningham to hand over all other duties for the time being, and to
concentrate on him. It was decided that a sexual bonding and dependence
should be used to reinforce the agent's ideological motivation. It would be
Conningham's task to replace McFee as the object of the agent's libido.


......................................................

Gregor joined us at our table about ten minutes after we had arrived. He was
careful to ingratiate himself with subject, encouraging him to retell the
traumas of his life, smiling, flattering and generally using sophisticated
seduction techniques.

These of course will be described in his separate contact report.
I  left them to talk, and pretended to be more interested in an effeminate
creature in drag at the next table. However, I was able to see Toy becoming
infatuated. Gregor is, as you will be aware, a massively-built man. Two
hundred and ten pounds and six foot two. Not and ounce of fat on him, and
shoulders and neck like a heavy-weight boxer (which in fact he is).


...........................................................

Sir James stole a glance at the photograph next in the pack, and shuddered
at the massive thighs and biceps. Not his sort at all! He turned back to the
report. Only a page or two left now.


.............................................................

Toy was gazing into his eyes like a love-sick teenage girl, and hanging on
his every word. His blushing had been cured and he tripped happily onto the
dancefloor holding Gregor's hand. I watched them smooch, Gregor fondling
Toy's arse, and Toy even daring to kiss him, pressed body-to-body.

They finally returned to the table when the band started a livelier rock
number. 'The band is pretty good tonight, Tiny,' I said as they sat down.

'Tiny?' Yuri asked. 'Oh, I see . It is a joking name. Because he is so big,
you call him 'Tiny'.'

'Well, Yuri, you're nearly right. Can I tell him, Gregor?' He nodded,
grinning. 'He was always called Tiny at school. And it was a joke , because
he was so big. But not really his body. The joke was about his cock....it
was the biggest any boy had ever seen....and it's even bigger now!'

Gregor laughed, depreciatingly.

'So very big?' Yuri was silent a bit. 'And the other boys played with him,
like you explained, Duncan?'

Gregor was still laughing. 'Sure, Yuri. And I played with them. Wish you'd
been there!'

I interrupted their happy chat. 'Let's go back to your place, Gregor.....and
you can show him.'


..........................................................

We were all naked on Gregor's bed. But I stayed out of it, just wanking to
keep hard. Photograph 7 records this phase.


........................................................

Sir James turned the next glossy print over, and saw the scene. Ducan
indeed, a cigarette in one hand, and jerking his cock with the other. More
excitingly Yuri ('Toy'....a stupid codename, thought Sir James. Too onvious.
He was too obviously a pretty little, sweet little, luscious little Toy.
He'd have to change that codename).....more excitingly, Yuri was kneeling
with his face crushed in the pillow. Massive, twice the weight of the
kneeling boy, Conningham knelt behind him, oiling his cock, which was
encased in a condom. Must get special ones, thought Sir James. Christ, he's
big.....length and girth. Sir James suddenly thought it would be interesting
to try to suck that one....though not for him the prospect of passive
buggery! Though he could understand how someone into being buggered would
find the prospect of that huge prick in them quite entrancing.

He turned over the next photo, referred to in the report.

This must be the moment of penetration. He ran his eye over the text. Yes,
it was indeed. The report drew attention to the momentary look of anguish on
the subject's face as the cock was pressed home. The next photograph. Ah
yes! Now the subject was smiling, and Conningham was clearly well into his
stride, grasping the boy's hips in two great, bear-like paws, and shoving.
The shot caught him half-inserted.

He read on.......wanking himself hard now. Only one paragraph left. 'It was
clear the sexual bonding would be achieved. As I quietly picked up my
clothes and walked out, neither noticed me go. I dressed next door to the
sound of Gregor grunting with each insertion, and as I let myself out, I
heard Toy come with a crescendo of endearments.'


........................................................

Sir James closed the buff folder, and went back to the earlier photos. It
was the one of Yuri in the shower, buggering the eager Donald, that he was
looking at when he allowed himself to come, splattering the top of his
polished desk.

                                                                    FIN