Date: Mon, 25 Jun 2001 06:10:19 -0400
From: lesli 99 <lesli99@hotmail.com>
Subject: Operation Queer Bait Pt 11

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