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From: The Bawdy Bloke <john@bawdybloke.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} For your thighs only (007 Parody) [MF]
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Date: Sat, 05 Apr 2014 07:10:01 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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This is posted here, and on my website at 
http://bawdybloke.com/flash-fiction-for-your-thighs-only/

"Cranberry flavoured vodka on ice with a twist of lime. Interesting. I 
think we've met before, in Stalingrad." The black-haired woman said 
nothing, sipping her drink with crimson lips as she continued to survey 
the casino; her elegant black evening gown hugged her lithe body with an 
alluring show of sexuality.

"Laphroaig whisky. On the rocks. I too believe we met briefly in 
Stalingrad. But I must bid you farewell, Mr ..."

"Thunderballs. Jack Thunderballs."
She gave a cursory smile, as her eyes focused on a big spender a few 
tables away from the bar. "I trust you will have a good night, Mr 
Thunderballs, but I have ..."

"You're watching Gregori," I voiced loudly as she went to move away from 
me; she froze. "He's staying the night in room seven-zero-two."

"Very good, Mr Thunderballs. I see MI5 haven't left all of their files 
on commuter trains."

I gave a polite titter. "I'm the Intelligence in MI5. So I'm staying in 
seven-zero-one. With a balcony opposite." She put her glass on the bar. 
"And I don't even believe you managed to get a room in this hotel. Now, 
if you wanted to pool resources," I whispered. "You could work ... 
underneath me."

"Mr Thunderballs, if you think I am sleeping in your room tonight ..."

"You will be in my room," I interrupted. "But most certainly not 
asleep." Her eyes watched as Gregori slammed his fist onto the table and 
swore brutishly at his diminishing pile of chips. "You were told to stop 
him, by any means necessary." She coughed as I adjusted my tie. "Miss ..."

"You can call me Pussy Hoare," the agent replied, adding nothing as the 
Russian sulked from the casino towards the stairs and his room. "Mr 
Thunderballs, my employers would be very grateful if we can have a deal. 
For one night."

I agreed. She picked up her coat, and turned to face me; she had dark 
hair, but 24 hours previous she had blonde locks and a tight PVC outfit. 
She was sexy then, and she was gloriously sexy now.

I had seen Pussy escape from the rooftop as Gregori's top female 
assassin hunted the spies looking for the Russian gangster; Pussy 
managed to flee, I didn't. I didn't really want to: the sexy manslayer 
captured my attention with ease, and we played a game. Svetlana was 
gorgeous, and after a mild bout of amateur seduction, she was bouncing 
on my cock. She forgot her task as she screamed in pleasure, before 
clamping her wrists around my neck. She screamed at me to die, my cock 
twitching in her treacherous cunt, as she squeezed my windpipe. I fought 
her, and her quivering pussy, desperately trying to free myself as she 
cackled ominously.

Of course, Pussy would play harder to get.

I don't think she ever expected to see me again, but Mr Thunderballs is 
not called Double-O Heaven for nothing; with a twitch of my fingers on 
Svetlana's clit, I was taking control of her body once again, causing 
her writhe and wriggle with undulating cries. She was mine: I was 
executing my License to Thrill, and after a few more orgasms - it was 
the decent thing any gentlemanly spy would do - she was cuffed and taken 
into custody, while I went after Gregori.

"I will never have sex with you," Pussy warned as I closed the door to 
my room and hung up my suit.

"Never say never," I taunted.

"You've just come from that Russian girl, surely you're spent," she 
patronised.

"That girl was not enough!" I winked at the defiant spy, and unbuttoned 
my white shirt. "Anyway, she lost control after her sixth climax. 
Complete amateur. I'm sure you won't be quite so easy."

"No man has ever made me come," Pussy said as she stared into my eyes. 
"No man."

"OK." I glanced at the bed. "But this is a clothes-free zone," I told 
her, as my trousers hit the floor. "Just so I know there's no concealed 
weapons."

She groaned; I loved her long elegant arms, as she fumbled with her 
dress: there was no point in arguing with me; she turned away, sexily 
gazing out of the window as her clothes pooled on the floor. My hands 
rubbed her bare back softly as she glanced into the darkness and at 
Gregori on his balcony. "He's reading ..." She whispered.

But I wasn't listening, my touch was cupping her bare bottom, gliding 
over her gorgeous buttocks. She sighed as I kissed her neck, shivering 
as I showered her back with my gentle osculations. She couldn't move, 
mewing as my finger swept over her mound, rubbing her trimmed bush.

She squirmed; I could see the fight in her eyes in the feint reflection 
of the glass: her resolve to not yield to my smooth seduction and light 
touch. Her body was filled with elegance and grace in the moonlight, the 
light dancing across her firm thighs and glorious body. I wanted her; I 
always wanted the girls I took, but I wanted her more than anyone else 
and angled my head between her thighs, sliding my tongue down her buttocks.

She trembled; the cool wetness of my flicking tongue across the whorl of 
her anus sent shivers up her spine. She gulped; the dutiful girl watched 
the evil gangster diligently as my tongue twisted against her arousal 
and muttered under her breath as she leant onto the railings.

I was coaxing the wild woman from her body and she pushed her butt 
further into my face. She needed her relief; she desperately needed my 
vibrating tongue onto the desperation in her body. My right hand twisted 
her nipple, running my fingers over her pert breasts; alive to my 
attention, demanding my touch and overflowing with excitement.

She gulped as my fingers found her pussy; parting her legs with alacrity 
as my attention turned to her slick snatch, she was expecting it: her 
stance showed she wanted it. I pressed against her clit.

Pussy never realised it at first, the sweet melody on her anus combined 
with the firm touch on her button, was taking her further than any man 
had ever done. Her thighs quivered as the last moment of resolve 
crumbled and she gripped the balcony railings: writhing her body with 
animalistic groans. She glanced over her shoulder: her eyes were 
saturated with lust; I was not going to deny her the orgasm and she knew it.

Mr Thunderballs never let his women or his country down, and her 
unrestrained proclamations, signified her gratitude at the orgasmic 
explosion, detonating in her cunt.

I wrote her a poem on her butt with my tongue, as my fingers delved into 
her shaking wetness; effortlessly, easily gliding into her puffy mounds. 
It was too much for her, as she stepped away and pulled me to my feet, 
pushing her mouth onto mine. "Do it," she pleaded, her eyes fiery and 
stacked with desire. "Let's see your Thunderballs in action!"

I could not resist, and pushed her onto the railing, entering her from 
behind.

Her long hair streaked over her back, as we continued our reconnaissance 
mission with carnal entertainment. Her cunt was tight; she looked so 
sexy, she felt so divine. Pussy's pussy stretched as my girth filled 
her; her fingernails gripping the railings with impassioned desire. It 
may have been underneath the stars, but this was no slow, sensual fuck: 
I rammed into her with force, feeling the thrust of my vibrations in her 
thighs and watching her reflection in the glass door. Her face plastered 
with lust: she loved it.

She was loving the ferocious hammering on her cunt, the finger tips 
digging into her waist, the uncompromising sating of her lust, and the 
intensity of her second climax creeping up on her. She needed it; 
wailing and squealing, crying out obscene comments into the atmosphere; 
I contemplated putting my hand over her mouth to silence her, but wanted 
to hear the crushing intensity of her climax.

I pumped forcefully into her; her legs quivering as I felt that she was 
riding the cusp of her arousal. She was on the brink, the split-second 
where she knew her body was going to be swept by an intense relief at 
any moment.

That moment was then; her pussy clamped down on my thrusting cock and I 
came inside her, filling the gorgeous agent with my seed. "You were 
saying I'd not make you come," I whispered to her, as my hands played 
with her nipples. "And perhaps now Miss Hoare, you can come clean."

She slouched on the railings as I reached onto the table behind me and 
grabbed a pair of handcuffs to fasten her to my room's balcony. "You are 
also in the employ of Gregori, Miss Double Agent. Tell me, what is he 
planning?"

She writhed in annoyance. "What?"

"Oh come on, we know all about you. What's Gregori up to?"

"I will never tell you."

"Then I may just have to get it out of you, any way I can," I replied 
and slid down her body to press my tongue against her anus. "We have all 
night! I can be Doctor `O!'"

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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