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Message-ID: <62322asstr$1347927001@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Nicolo Parenti <nicoloco@live.com>
Importance: Normal
Subject: {ASSM} Covert Affairs: Operation Black Ore
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Date: Mon, 17 Sep 2012 20:10:01 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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This story is a fictional extension to the world of the television series
"Covert Affairs", which chronicles the lives and operations of a team of US
CIA agents.  The show, and the episodes in this story, focus on Annie
Walker, played by the lovely Piper Perabo.  Need I stress the "fictional"
here?  .  .  .
   

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                    Covert Affairs: Operation Black Ore (c) 2012 Nicolo
                Parenti - nicoloco@live.com

      [Based very loosely on the TV character played by Piper Perabo]

                                -----------

Annie had heard of cocks this size but had never seen one. It was certainly
the biggest she'd ever had to suck. And by far the largest thing, flesh or
fake, ever put in her ass. She sighed, musing about the things she did for
her country...

                                -----------

Annie Walker dressed to kill, if only figuratively. Even her casual clothes
showed her keen fashion sense. But she didn't need to flaunt her figure. It
would take a sack to disguise the trim, athletic and sexy body she knew was
a prime asset in her job as CIA agent, as it would be in any job. It was a
good fit with her open and innocent face.

People liked Annie, liked her quick, genuine smile, her easy grace, her
obvious intelligence, the flash and promise of passion just below a chic
veneer. Men, as men will, imagined Annie without those trendy clothes,
positioned just the way they preferred. Some pictured her generous mouth
forming an oval around their cocks. A lucky few didn't have to imagine.

Her job descriptions -- both for her real job, and for her cover job of
acquisitions specialist for the Smithsonian -- didn't mention fucking. But
she'd always known that sex was a major tool in the spy kit, one that male
agents used without a second thought. No one said it, but it was understood
that if sex was what it took, those Fendi slacks were coming off.

For female agents, seduction is both easier and harder. Easier because,
well, duh. Harder because even with training in weapons and self-defense,
the playing field isn't level. By its nature, her world harbors some wacky
guys with major kinks. Come to think of it, that's the world we're all in.

Sex was never Annie's first resort. Sure, she flirted and charmed -- that's
just life as a woman. Actually getting laid was somewhat rare, though it did
seem to pop up more often lately. Good managers maximize the utility of
their assets, and Annie had some fine ones.

                                -----------

Annie first put her body on the line in Operation Date Palm:

"Grab your go bag, Annie, you're headed to Dubai on a 9PM out of Dulles,"
said Joan Campbell, Annie's boss as head of the DPD section. Annie was used
to this sort of summons. Most operations are meticulously planned, but quite
a few are go-right-now.

"What's the op? Will I need anything special for desert work?"

Joan laughed, "You won't see much sand this trip. You're attending a soiree
at the home of Ali Khat, the oil sheik. He has a collection the Smithsonian
would be interested in showing -- that's your cover.

"But your real goal is to scan some documents we think are in the hands of
an Emirates businessman, Maktub Fatash, who'll also be at the party. His
photo and details are in the packet. So, a cocktail dress this time instead
of desert camo."

Annie just had time to find an appropriate, and expensive, dress before her
flight. Twelve hours later she was in Dubai, with a day to get over the jet
lag. An invitation was waiting at her hotel, and next evening a taxi took
her to the wealthy sheik's modest 18-room city home.

Her outfit was somewhat daring, a bit over the edge of Muslim propriety. But
this was Dubai, not Jeddah, and the lines weren't as bright here. Her dress
conveyed the impression that Annie could afford any underwear she wanted,
she just hadn't seen the need tonight.

She was a hit with the men, less so with the women. Using a skill honed
since high school, she cut Fatash from the herd and steered him to a quiet
nook. His drink -- he was a liberal Muslim -- soon had an extra ingredient,
and Annie was helping him to a cab, then to his hotel room.

"I'm so glad you could accompany me, dear. I was quite taken with your frock
and of course the lovely body so artfully concealed within it." Maktub may
have been slurring, but he was still awake enough to grope Annie's tits.

He must have the constitution of an ox, she thought. There was enough tranq
in that drink to lay out a wild boar, let alone this bore. But he wouldn't
go down. He still believed he could get Annie out of her dress. With an eye
on the clock, Annie considered her options.

She played along, sure she could outlast him. "Here, why don't I help with
that," she said. Stepping back, she slipped the thin straps from her pale
shoulders, revealing to him what every man that night had pictured.

"Oh, what a delicious sight you are, my dear," he said as he stumbled over
to her. Almost out, thought Annie. But not quite quickly enough for her.

Her breasts were like laser-painted targets, and he was a crude missile. He
sucked and tweaked them until, despite her mission sense, Annie started to
turn on. Damn, how is he still standing? She knew one sure way to put a man
to sleep. Besides, she figured, with that dose he wouldn't remember anything
in the morning.

Soon the dress was on the floor and all of her on display. He was delighted
to find Annie as smooth as a young girl, save one small patch at the top of
her juicy crevice.

"Oh, I always say, the way to my heart is a shaved part, and yours is a very
nice part indeed. Let me see if it is as welcoming as it looks."

Staggering, with one hand he worked open his fly to release a thick, rigid
cock. The other slithered downward, grazing her pulsing clit as he dipped a
rough finger into her slick groove. He licked his lips in anticipation, but
alas for both of them, those were the only lips he'd lick tonight.

Annie knew it wouldn't take much, but it would take something. So she jacked
his meaty prick, stroking it and fondling his balls until, with a last great
spasm, he shot a pearly load onto his chest. She lapped it up as a reward
for her hard work, and to cover her tracks.

Finally he was out cold. Annie tucked him in and got down to the real
business of the night. She tossed the room while still naked, careful to
leave no evidence of her search. She found his papers in the room safe,
easily cracked by anyone with Agency training. Her cell camera scanned the
details and sped them to Langley.

She slipped on her dress and Louboutins and eased out of the room, mission
accomplished. Cost: one dress and one hand job. The Agency only reimbursed
for clothing.

                                -----------

In her field ops over the next few months, Annie had little occasion for
anything beyond casual flirting to meet her mission goals.

The one exception came in Istanbul, stuck out in the boonies, having used up
every spare bit of cash to pay off an asset. Sweet persuasion didn't work on
her corpulent taxi driver, leaving only her oral skills for cab fare. Annie
was a trouper: if sucking a fat Turkish dick was the worst thing she ever
did for the Agency, well, god bless America.

That all changed, big time, with Operation French Letter:

"Annie," said Joan, "this is a deep-cover op. We're setting you up in Paris
('oh no, not that', grinned Annie) to get close to Henri Ladouche, who we're
sure is diverting small quantities of fissionable material to someone in the
Middle East. Your job is to figure out who, and how.

"He's a mid-level guy at ASN, their equivalent of the NRC. And he's careful
as hell -- none of the agents we've thrown at this have gotten even a sniff.
You're going in as a Canadian exchange student, cover name Mary Achiband, so
you'll have to tweak your French to sound Quebecois."

After a quick refresher in Quebec accent and idiom, and some time to learn
her legend, Annie arrived in the City of Light. She took a flat in Henri's
building, and they grew friendly over the next few weeks. Neighborly coffee
chats became a sharing of life stories. Annie's of course was pure fiction,
framed to make her vulnerable, needy and available.

Sensing that Annie (er, Mary) was feeling low, Henri made a pitch. "Come to
dinner chez moi, Marie. I have a recipe for lapin d'Andalou that never fails
to improve one's mood," he teased. "I am certain they have nothing like it
in your province."

"Oh, Henri, I wouldn't be good company. I got email from Paul today saying
it's completely over for us. I'm feeling sad and lumpish and unlovely and
I'd just bring you down."

"Nonsense, cherie, instead I will bring you up. Come, we'll open a bottle of
wine or two, and drink a big fuck you to this idiot Paul."

Annie laughed and agreed. During dinner she had, oops, a bit too much vin
rouge and got a bit weepy. Henri consoled her, then consolation turned into
comforting. He caressed her shoulder until her shoulder became a breast.

"No, Henri, not that. I like you, but I can't get involved with anyone."

"Ah, cherie, this is just two friends, not 'involved'. It will do you good
to get this bad lover out of your system, and we need never speak of it
after tonight," schmoozed an obviously experienced Henri.

A powerful (if fictional) need rose in Mary, and before long they were
kissing and groping, then naked and horizontal. Henri got his first look at
the delicious Annie Walker. He couldn't believe his luck.

He pressed his prick insistently at her lips. "Oh, cherie, I have been
watching that beautiful mouth for days, knowing it would be heaven itself
for you to suck me. Take it, ma Marie, tongue me, suck it, ohhhh, yes..."

Annie nearly swallowed his cock; he, like a well-mannered Frenchman, ate her
to a nice climax before splitting her with the tool she'd so thoughtfully
lubed. Weeks of escalating sexual tension exploded in just minutes. Sure, it
was a job to Annie, but who says you can't enjoy your work?

The new lovers were insatiable that night, screwing every way they could
dream up. Both agreed that 'en levrette' was the best, where he could plow
her from behind while cupping and kneading her tits. Henri had a sexy new
toy, and Annie had her entree into his world.

And of course it didn't end with the evening -- no one night stands for our
Mary, who transferred her dependence onto this new man in her life. She'd do
anything for her Henri, a premise he would soon test.

There was more to M. Ladouche than the Agency knew. Henri was one of those
kinky dudes that inhabit Annie's shadowy world. One evening that week he
introduced her to an old friend, a man who believed as Henri did that good
fortune should be shared.

Earlier, Annie had seen the two men in animated discussion on the street.
She couldn't hear it, but their conversation (in Farsi) had gone like this:

"Henri, you pussy hound. You know nothing about this girl. She could be sent
to trap you, trap us. You break our first rule just because you like the way
she sucks your dick."

"But my friend, even if so, what could she discover? We commit nothing to
writing, there is no trail back to us, and our meetings are innocent. Yes, I
like the way she sucks, you will too. She clings to me and will do anything
I ask. Come and meet her." The man grumbled but agreed.

Soon they were at her door. "Marie," said Henri, with a possessive arm
around her waist, "say hello to my bon ami Pervez, who is on a short visit
to Paris. I've been telling him what a treasure you are. He and I go back
forever, and have shared so much together." As we will share you, was his
unspoken thought. "Come to dinner with us, I have a table waiting."

Pervez, whose dark complexion and clipped accent marked him as a man from
elsewhere, was not a subtle person. At the restaurant he openly appraised
his friend's new lover, his gaze lingering on her curves. Uh oh, thought
Annie. This could get complicated. But overall it was a civilized evening,
and she relaxed in their company.

On her way to the restroom she sneaked a cell pic, and when she posted it
home, Langley buzzed like a Rabbit with fresh batteries. Pervez Mosadegh was
highly placed in Savak, the notorious Iranian secret police: this was the
contact. She was instructed to spare nothing -- a euphemism that everyone
understood -- to find out how these two worked their scheme together.

They worked at least one scheme together well. Pervez became a regular at
their evening meals. Henri had been taking increasing liberties with Annie's
body in his friend's presence. Then after one meal, when all were well
supplied with wine, Henri dropped his bombshell.

"Marie, ma cherie, I have been telling our friend what a marvelous mouth you
have, how it is made for sucking. But I may have praised your skills too
much, as he does not believe anyone could be so good."

"Mary" was in total shock at his brazen betrayal of their, she believed,
most secret life. Annie, on the other hand, had seen this coming from
several kilometers away.

"Henri! What are you saying? That's a very private thing between us, not
something to speak of with others. Please tell me I misunderstood you!"

"But no, cherie. You please me greatly, and you would not want my friend to
think I falsely boast, hien? It would be but a small thing for you to suck
me here, now, to show him I am not one to exaggerate."

With a pretense of great reluctance and embarrassment, she eventually
complied, fishing out Henri's cock and working it to full erection as Pervez
looked on with a leer and a smirk. As she bobbed and stroked over Henri,
Pervez exposed his own cock and idly stroked it until it grew to impressive,
if somewhat crooked, proportions. Fuck, Annie thought. I didn't sign on for
something like that.

That night she learned that Iranian cock tastes a lot like French cock
(though better than at least one Turkish cock). And of course it couldn't
stop there. After dinner a few days later, Annie was the dessert.

"Ma Marie, it is hard to believe that Pervez has not seen your lovely body.
You have touched his private parts, and still you remain as mysterious to
him as a veiled virgin. You should dance for us, and shed those veils as you
dance. Come, this music has the perfect rhythm."

She refused, indignant, but they cajoled her and plied her with more wine.
Before long she did dance for them, shedding her blouse to show off a lacy
bra, twisting out of their lewd reach as she unzipped her skirt.

They stripped her of her filmy lingerie, and she found herself writhing
naked on their laps, pushing her wine-flushed breasts into their faces. The
two men nipped and tweaked and probed until she was frantic with need. She
ground her dampening pussy on their clothed erections, which they soon
freed. She sucked and stroked them and lavished them with lust, until her
pretty face and mouth received two large loads of male seed.

The men were sated for now, but Annie was still revving, her lust unslaked.
It took more wine and several licks on their limp dicks, but eventually she
had them at full stand again, Pervez just a bit ahead.

"You're going to fuck me with this," she said, grasping the curved shaft
she'd first sucked off just a few nights ago. "You may be too big or too
bent for comfort, but by god you're going to fuck me."

Annie swung a leg over his seated form and eased her wet and aching pussy
onto the fat-headed cock. With a moan of pleasure she sank to the root, then
began fucking herself up and down with deliberate strokes. Her gaze never
left his as she worked for solid, slippery contact between her itching clit
and his rigid tool.

Pervez took over the action, spearing up into her with maddening slowness.
"Fuck me, oh, yes fuck me you bastard. Ah, christ what a cock, I've never
felt one so deep. Fuck, fuck..." Annie had by now abandoned all tradecraft,
consumed by the need to come, to release what this debauched night and this
devil-cock had built up inside her. At this moment she was more horny woman
than spy. But she was always a spy.

She glanced at Henri, half expecting to see a look of anger or betrayal at
her wanton assault on his friend. Instead what she saw was amusement,
excitement, lust -- maybe even a little pride. He reclined and stroked his
smaller but still adequate member, surveying the scene before him.

"Look how firm her young breasts are, how little they bounce as she fucks.
Now you know I was not telling tales." Annie was beyond embarrassment at any
lewd comments about her body. After all, she was fucking one man in front of
another, a first for her. She was also finding that a cock with a curve has
a charm of its own, making an old motion seem new and different.

"Ah, but you should try her from behind, my good friend. You will enjoy the
view, as well as the feel of her tight pussy. Go ahead, that's right, swing
her around. I assure you she well loves a hard pounding from the rear."

Pervez took the suggestion and manipulated Annie onto her elbows and knees.
When he again inserted himself, he touched new places in her heated core.
Now in full control, he upped the depth and intensity of his thrusts, but
kept his pace steady. He was fucking Annie like a pile driver, his ball sac
slapping her clit on every stroke, impelling her toward release.

The dam broke for Annie and she shouted out her climax. The room, the men,
the world, receded until there was nothing but a wave of pleasure spreading
outward from this hot, stabbing cock to every part of her body and mind.

Pervez came too, jetting milky ropes of semen deep into Annie's womb and
adding his voice to hers in a mutual concert of passion. Both collapsed,
Annie spent from throes of delight that ranked in her personal top five.

Henri was pleased and aroused by the spectacle. "Bravo, brava, my friends.
Normally I would not wish to interfere, but perhaps ma Marie could at least
relieve the tension she has caused," he said, indicating his firmly erect
penis. Annie obliged by taking it passively in her mouth, accepting the
generous gouts that quickly issued.

As the trio disentangled, she fell into an almost comatose state, apparently
dead to the world, spunk oozing from her mouth and pussy. The men grinned
and slapped hands, then slipped into Henri's office and closed the door.
There they could have a quiet talk in Farsi, a language they knew Annie
couldn't understand even if she did overhear.

But they were wrong. Annie, ever the professional, had feigned her stupor.
She was in fact fluent in the Persian tongue, and many others. She listened
through the door, using her Agency cell phone as an amplifier and recorder,
as the men reviewed their next exchange. This was exactly what was needed,
and provided a culmination to her mission that almost matched the one she'd
just had on that warped Iranian cock.

Annie passed her intel on, but hesitated before ending the operation. If she
just disappeared, they'd figure something was up and change plans. Winding
down over time was the smarter course. And so the lovely Annie Walker was
passed between two horny men for four more days, fondled, fingered and
fucked until she -- almost -- didn't want any more.

Her report was a textbook example of how to report events without revealing
things best left secret. Although oddly, no one can say just how, a picture
of an erect penis with a wicked bend to the left found its way into the file
on Pervez Mosadegh.

                                -----------

By now Annie was a seasoned pro, her mission success rate the envy of her
section. Sure there were failures, even fiascos, but overall she'd done very
well, and had gained the respect of her bosses and colleagues.

Now she had her toughest assignment yet, in a dark and primitive area far
from the enlightened centers of America and Europe, or even the cultural
oases of the Gulf States.

This was Operation Black Ore:

"Annie, we have reports of new conflict around Lake Kivu in Africa, which
borders several countries. This includes the eastern Congo, with lots of
desirable minerals. A swarm of militias, gangs really, are fighting for
control of the many small coltan mines around Goma."

Any burp in the coltan supply, a source of tantalum metal for electronics,
was bad for business, and the Agency was always responsive to commercial
interests. Coltan ore, black and potent, qualified for protection.

"We're pouring agents, tech and money into the area to buy off any bad guys
we can, and um, remove the ones too stupid to deal. It's gotten big enough,
and rich enough, that we need a coordinator on the ground. We wouldn't send
you into a hot zone, but this is more of a rear echelon role."

Well, that's what they all say. In fact, things were so fluid there was no
way to insure anyone's safety, even well away from the fighting. Annie was
going into a minefield, which she accepted as part of her job. If she could
have seen the future, she might not have been so sanguine.

They made HQ at a minor hotel in Kigali, the Rwandan capital. As the only
really civilized spot within 200 km of the mines, Kigali was where everyone
else set up shop too. Spies, traitors and weasels were thick on the ground.
Some wanted coltan, but most smelled what the Agency had in spades: cash.

Money is the Agency's weapon of first resort, and there was a literal pile
of it available to co-opt or subsidize. Most of the time, controls worked
well enough that the cash was accounted for. Sure, some leaked away, but
they'd learned a lot from Afghanistan and Iraq.

Now every pallet, bag, vehicle and agent could be 'chipped', and monitored
from the sky. Even Annie was tagged with a subdermal geolocator. To help
avoid collusion, two randomly paired agents were assigned to each money
exchange. Opportunities to skim were few.

But not absent. Greedy men and loads of cash always seem to find each other.
All it takes is the right confluence of temptation and events to turn a once
trusted ally into a thief, or worse.

"Markus," said Annie, "we have a big drop today about 100 clicks northwest
of here, up in the hills. The guy we're buying off is a prize, but super
nervous, so this has to go smooth and quiet."

"Sure thing, chief," Markus grinned. He liked to tease Annie, who may have
been the boss, but was also the greenest agent on the op. "Who's next up on
the rota? Tell me it's not Haller, he's not exactly Mister Smooth."

"Well, here's the problem. Everyone's assigned elsewhere, you're the only
one left for this. And you know the rules, two agents, especially when we're
dropping five million in hundreds."

Markus whistled. "Jesus, that's more than big. So what do we do?"

"The only thing we can. I'm your second. We'll have to leave my assistant in
charge of HQ for a few hours. He'll be fine, we'll be fine."

"Whoa there, boss, you're not really thinking about going into the weeds
with five million bucks? Are you nuts? Langley would have our asses if
anything happened to you. Your job is here, not out in the wild west."

"It has to be, Markus. I'm your partner, one time only. We can't let this
one slip away. I've already weighed the packs, all we need is your cross-
check and both of us to sign. We go in two."

[You don't count out five million dollars: it's done by weight, 1 kilo per
1,000 bills. For this drop, a mere 110 pounds of US greenbacks.]

A lot can happen in two hours. For example, someone with an itch for the
good life, tired of seeing fortunes casually tossed to vicious fools, could
make a couple of coded radio calls to people with similar ideas. Plans can
hatch quickly in the African heat.

Annie left her assistant a detailed plan, noting their route, waypoints,
contacts, and tracking numbers. The chips in the money stacks were scanned
as they went into their JUV -- one of the whimsically named Jungle Utility
Vehicles. Their movements could now be tracked by satellite, and loosely
monitored back at her headquarters.

They rolled out, expecting the trip to take about two hours. Roads in the
hills were really just tracks, but the weather had been dry. They were
staying inside Rwanda, so it was unlikely that trouble would find them.

                                -----------

Trouble found them about halfway along, a makeshift checkpoint at a bend in
the track above a gorge. They were ordered out by two men with Uzis. Annie
was restrained and her sidearm taken, but oddly, no one disarmed Markus.
Then the penny dropped.

"Shit, this is you, a setup. What the hell are you thinking? You know you'll
never get away. We're being tracked, your name is all over the paperwork."

Markus just laughed. "No, boss, I won't get away, I'll be dead. Just not as
dead as you. Didn't you hear? We went into the gorge, too deep to recover.
Everything burned up -- trackers, cash, bodies. Tragic, but that's Africa.
Meanwhile, me and the money will be somewhere else." He looked around with a
bitter sneer. "Somewhere with electricity."

Annie struggled in the grip of the young gang members, who hadn't caught all
of their rapid exchange in English. Addressing them in French, still the
main language in this former colony, she asked, "You know we have more
money, right? A lot more than we're carrying here. Whatever he's offered
you, I can double it. Triple it."

The men laughed. "Sure, we know it, mademoiselle," one said. "But we didn't
plan much of a split with Markus. He didn't think this through. Nobody's
walking away rich except us."

A short burst from an Uzi cut Markus in two. They tossed his body into the
vehicle, took the cash, and started to shove Annie in with him, ready to
send them flaming into the gorge. But one of the men pulled her out, which
sparked an argument in a language Annie didn't know.

Whatever the topic, the result was that Annie stayed back as they torched
the vehicle and rolled it over the edge. The last anyone saw of it, or of
Markus, was ball of fire crashing through the dense growth to a rocky end
two hundred feet below.

The cash went into metal boxes. So they knew about the bugs, but Annie was
praying they didn't know she was chipped too. They manhandled her into their
jeep and took off on a barely visible side trail.

"Where are we going? What do you want with me? Do you expect to ransom me
for more cash?" The only response was a swift strike with a rifle butt that
knocked her cold.

                                -----------

She came to in a large cave, naked on a blanket, with a bad headache,
loosely bound but not gagged. There was still light at the entrance, so it
had probably been just a couple of hours. The alarm would have been raised
at her HQ by now. The trackers wouldn't work in here, but they'd have a last
known fix, which should get them close.

When she called out in French and English, two men, not her original
captors, came in. "Ah, the lady is awake," the first one said with a grin.
"Call the others, it's time to continue." He began to unbuckle his belt.

Continue? thought Annie. What had she missed? She was aware that her breasts
were slightly sore and wondered what that meant. Then her attention snapped
back to the present: whatever had passed so far, it looked like more was
about to transpire.

"What do you want, why are you holding me?" she asked. "Did you contact my
Agency for a payment, is that why you didn't kill me along with my partner?"

"No, miss. Patrice wanted to put you in the gorge, but Didier convinced him
you would be a nice treat for us. We have not seen a woman in many weeks,
and never one so pale. You will join your partner, but first you will please
the men of this camp. The better you please, the longer you live."

He had finished removing his trousers and now displayed a growing erection.
"My name is Jean, this is Pierre. Since I am senior here, I will have you
first. But there will be more, many more. Now, I am not a cruel man, so I
will make sure you are not too dry to give pleasure." He turned to his
companion and warned, "Do not speak of this next thing to the men, they
would not understand."

He removed the rope, spread her on her back, and knelt between her trembling
thighs to lick at her smooth crotch. His casual statement that she was to be
used, then killed, left Annie reeling, and far from lubricated for sex. But
despite her fears, his copious saliva and the regular stroking of his thick,
raspy tongue evoked a physical response in her. Goddammit, her body was
betraying her!

After several minutes he rose and presented his half-hard cock to her lips.
"You would be wise to prepare me well. I hear that white men have smaller
penises, so you may not be used to the size of the ones you service here.
But soon you will be, starting with this one." His cock looked to Annie's
eyes about nine inches long and moderately thick. Not my biggest ever, she
thought, recalling her time with Pervez and Henri.

Taking his words to heart, she slurped to wet the bulbous head, then sucked
him deep into her mouth to coat the shaft. His cock had a musky taste and an
earthy odor reminiscent of the jungle around them. Conceding the rape to
come, she reasoned that cooperation could prevent damage, and a feigned
enthusiasm might just be a key to survival. All delay was in her favor, as a
rescue party had to be near. The longer she sucked, the closer they'd be.

"Ah, you do know how to suck a man! But that must do for now. It is my job
to grease you with semen, so my larger brethren will have an easier time
getting into you." His member was now at full size, and if his brothers in
arms were larger than this, she'd need all the lube he could provide.

"In the meantime you can do the same for Pierre," he said. Pierre had been
watching the proceedings wide-eyed. His trousers had also come off, and he
was stroking a cock the equal of his superior's.

Jean shifted down to press himself against her moistened entrance. He may
not have been cruel, but he was insistent, never backing off, pressing into
Annie without letup until he had completely skewered her. His pubic bone
rested on hers, and his flesh stimulated her clit.

For a large man he moved with considerable speed, pistoning in and out and
twisting his hips. There was no thought of pleasing her. He had one thing on
his mind, and that was getting his nut.

But perversely, his complete disregard for her as a person wakened something
primal in Annie, and the friction began to turn her on in spite of, or maybe
because of, the degradation. She'd always been the beautiful seducer of men.
This was different. In all her years, in all her sexual encounters, she'd
never been merely a vessel, a cunt. And it was just beginning.

Her reluctant but growing arousal was briefly interrupted as Pierre pushed
at her lips, unable to resist the scene before him. Annie accepted his cock,
and he began fucking her mouth in a mirror of what Jean was doing below. He
pawed at her breasts as she sucked him, adding fuel to her fire.

It became a race between the men, and Pierre finished first. His shouts of
completion echoed in the confines of the cave, as he blasted a dozen thick
spurts into Annie's mouth. She couldn't contain it all. The overflow oozed
onto her chin and dripped to her neck and chest.

Her mouth was freed just in time, as without conscious thought she began a
series of rhythmic grunts, in pace with the large cock thumping her cervix.
Ten, twenty, thirty merciless thrusts and Jean stiffened, cresting the wall
they'd both been scaling, sending Annie into a screaming climax as he loosed
his own passion within her clutching cavern. Again and again the waves and
pulses came, gradually ebbing until it seemed a light had faded out.

Jean had done his job, reaming her well, coating her inside and out, from
pussy to asshole, with enough natural lube to ease the passage of the cocks
that would soon follow.

Their cries had drawn a crowd of men to the mouth of the cave. As Jean
called for order, they formed up into a rough queue, eager but disciplined.
"We want her to last, brothers, so be not violent. She has several holes fit
to serve. Fuck what you will, but leave her able to accommodate those after
you, and your own repeat visits."

                                -----------

Annie's HQ had indeed tracked the operation, had seen the other chips blink
out until only hers was active. They knew where her trail ended, but had no
idea why, nor any clue there was a force of a dozen men in the mix. Four
well-armed agents were dispatched to find Annie, whatever her condition, and
try to salvage the mission. They weren't far now, maybe half an hour, but
given the unknowns they had to proceed cautiously.

At the camp, two more men rushed to where Annie lay exhausted, their rampant
cocks evidence of their intent. Another six waited, whooping and clapping at
the show to come, eager for their turns at the lovely treat their commander
had allowed them.

The first man flipped her over, yanking her onto hands and knees. He plunged
his cock into her sopping pussy doggy style, and started a rapid-fire fuck.
There was no finesse here, only the urge to climax. The other man opted for
her mouth, which was still slimy with the deposit Pierre had left.

Annie sucked him in, noting that his was larger than the cock she'd just
taken, itself no slouch. This man wasn't content to let Annie do the work,
instead pushing himself deep into her gullet. She had a moment of panic as
the big dick blocked her airway and made her gag. He paid no heed to her
discomfort, pulling out and thrusting in, using her throat as a cunt. In
time she learned to breathe as well as she could on the out strokes.

The overly excited man in her pussy had already added his sperm to the load
Jean had pumped in, causing some mirth for his quick trigger among those
waiting. To cover his slight embarrassment he muscled aside the man in her
mouth, presenting his cock for cleaning. Annie got to taste her own juices.

The throat-fucker switched places and took her from behind while his comrade
got a tongue bath. He too fell quick victim to the hot, tight slickness of
Annie's pussy, and a third overflowing load joined the others.

These two retreated to the end of the queue and another man came forward.
From the crowd's muttered comments Annie could tell this was something the
men wanted to see, and it soon became obvious why.

"My name is Pascal," he said with a smirk, "and my prick is well known in
these parts. The men coming after me want to be able to feel the walls of
your sex, so I have agreed not to fuck you there for now, because I would
leave you quite stretched."

Annie took some small comfort from this, although she was intrigued by the
prospect of a really large cock. He didn't look that big in his currently
limp state, except for the plum-sized head, so maybe it was all just brag.
Her relief was short-lived, though, because Pascal wasn't done talking.

"Instead I will fuck you in le cul. The pussy has a bottom, but the ass has
none." Annie winced. She was practically a virgin in that hole. "Get me hard
with your mouth and my friend will prepare you for me." He held his member
to her lips in an invitation, well, a command, to suck.

Another man moved in behind her. He smeared and fingered some of the gooey
mess from her pussy into her dark hole, as she worked on Pascal's member.
Now she could see he hadn't been boasting. It was as thick as a shillelagh,
and almost as knobby. Even her flexible mouth could no longer fit around it,
so they had to be content with licks and slurps to wet him.

The man at her rear had worked her open enough to take two, then three fat
fingers. Annie nearly fainted when, as a coup de grace, he added a fourth
finger and twisted them all into her now distended asshole.

Pascal declared that she was now ready. He adjusted her to a good angle for
deep penetration. Annie hyperventilated as she felt his knob probing, then
stretching her, then slipping inside. He groaned in pleasure at the contact
and eased back, only to push farther in on the next stroke. He repeated this
until all of his impressive tool was sheathed in her rectum.

Annie had heard of cocks this size but had never seen one. It was certainly
the biggest she'd ever had to suck. And by far the largest thing, flesh or
fake, ever put in her ass. She sighed, musing about the things she did for
her country...

As he started to stroke, his companion had to hold onto Annie so he could
withdraw -- otherwise their tight seal just pulled her backward with his
cock. Smiling to the men watching, he increased his pace.

Annie had now completely zoned. This giant was reaching places no one had
ever been, nor likely ever would be again. In spite of herself she began to
rouse, as much from the thought of her situation as from the substantial
stimulation. To her amazement, his size and the angle of attack pressed and
rubbed her G-spot. Slowly, slowly but insistently, she edged toward a climax
she knew would be epic. And in her ass! Who would have thought?

The friction and heat weren't lost on Pascal. This was by far the most of
his cock anyone, or anything, had been able to take. He was in bliss,
climbing toward nirvana. He felt her intestines clenching rhythmically in
advance of her peak, sensed his own climax boiling just below the point of
no return. He arched his back as she stretched with one hand to frig her
clit and bring on the final rush...

...when gunfire erupted outside the cave. It cut down some of the assembled
audience and scattered the rest into the jungle. The cavalry had arrived.
But at least one person thought the timing could have been better.

"Noooooo!" screamed Annie. "Oh god not yet, no, please let me come, please
just one more minute, oh god, fuck me, fuck me, make me come..."

They say that just at the moment of death the body loses all control of the
involuntary muscles, so it's possible that some cadaveric spasm, and not the
will of a man in ecstasy, caused Pascal to release the load that was waiting
just at the brink when the bullets struck him.

Whatever it was, it sent a pint of semen into Annie's bowels and sparked the
massive orgasm she'd been building toward. As his body gave out, Pascal fell
back, and his cock popped out of Annie's ravaged asshole. If anyone has ever
died a happy man, it was Pascal.

                                -----------

Out of respect for their colleague, no one who witnessed the end of that
scene ever mentioned it again. Reports were written to satisfy the Agency
without revealing Annie's defilement, rendering it as "a short period of
detention at the hands of rebels". After all, the money was recovered, a
rogue agent had been eliminated, and frankly, no one much cared about one
small incident in a remote part of a dark and distant continent.

But they remembered, they all remembered. Each one carried the indelible
image of the beautiful, sexy, naked Annie Walker coated in semen, impaled by
a penis like a tree branch, crying to the heavens to please, please give her
just one minute more.

                                -----------

With love from Nico, September 2012.

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