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Part 5: The Secret Agent
Claire was feeling horny.
The problem was that she had got used to coming regularly, under the oral ministrations of her co-worker in the RSPHNFFP charity shop, the talented Mr. Sharma. Of course the fact that she was allowing him to go down on her had nothing to do with sex per se.
It was just that she was allowing him to practice his arcane and unfathomable religion which insisted on his maximising the pleasure and minimising the pain of humanity. Claire, as a kindness, had allowed Mr. Sharma to lick her pussy; unfortunately she found herself coming many times and, in order to restore Mr. Sharma’s karma or cosmic balance, she’d had to suck him off in turn.
The problem was that she had grown accustomed to his cultured and skilful tongue.
And now, he had disappeared.
It had all started when Claire had, through an unfeasible series of circumstances, found herself offering her body to a group of local teenagers in return for charitable donations. It had been Mr. Sharma’s idea for Claire to sell sexual pleasure on a sliding scale, from great value handjobs all the way up to more expensive although tight, sticky and satisfying anal sex.
This unofficial sideline had been such a hit that the shop had found itself busy once more and Claire had rationalised her actions by knowing that at the very least she was doing her own bit for charity.
Unfortunately this had all ended abruptly last week when Mr. Sharma had vanished. At first everyone had been worried until it was realised that a significant amount of funds was also missing from the shop’s bank account.
The shop had been closed immediately.
Claire, worried that the investigating police might find out what she’d been doing, kept a low profile.
At first she’d been deeply upset that all the money that she’d raised using her clever capable hands, her full bouncy breasts, her moist welcoming mouth, her thrilling expert pussy and her forbidden snug arsehole had gone straight into Mr. Sharma’s own pockets.
But then she had begun to miss his tongue.
Her lucky boyfriend, Danny, had done his best to gratify her increased sexual appetite but, although he wasn’t exactly bad in bed, he didn’t have Mr. Sharma’s sublime and rare skill.
So Claire found herself frustrated, both sexually and with her lack of employment.
Eventually, Claire’s carnal dissatisfaction subsided but her disappointment at once again losing her career, if anything, intensified.
Would she ever be able to hold down a job?
She really missed her last long-term role as receptionist at a hair salon. She decided to look out for similar opportunities. There had to be something out there for her!
She knew was a presentable and attractive with long red hair, distinctive green eyes, pale freckled skin, long legs and a slender yet enormous-bosomed figure.
Maybe she wasn’t the most academically able person in the market but she was kind and had a lot to offer in the way of experience including sales, teaching, acting as well as shop-work. Someone must want her!
But Danny objected to whatever she suggested, insisting on taking her to interviews and vetting her prospective employers. For some reason he was intensively possessive, always worrying that she would be abused by virtually every man she met.
True, she had found herself in various implausible and contrived situations in which she had had to use the full range of her luscious and moist bodily orifices to provide sexual pleasure to a large and unlikely range of fortuitous men.
However in none of these circumstances, had she not been in complete control. And she certainly hadn’t been having actual proper sex. Nothing of the sort. Danny really was just too overprotective. She could look after herself.
Matters came to a head when he took her for an interview for the role of receptionist for a small stationery supplier. Worried that she had been in for the meeting longer than scheduled, Danny walked in on her allowing the owner of the business, a short bald Scotsman, to take pictures of her in nothing more than her spectacularly sexy underwear.
When Danny dragged her out of the office and back to his car, she explained that nothing underhand had been going on. The interviewer had just been taking a picture for his records to remember which interviewee was which.
When he asked why she needed to be half naked, Claire crossly explained that he had already interviewed another similar-looking young lady wearing similar outer garments and had wanted to make sure the picture had been distinctive. Claire had readily agreed. After all, in the cut-throat world of small business receptionist recruitment, one had to stand out from the crowd.
Danny just shook his head in disbelief at her naïveté but Claire was furious at his intervention.
They had an angry row on the way home which evolved into a silent sulk on Claire’s part.
Eventually Danny went to a gig in Camden where he was due to do a guest DJ spot at a club, leaving güvenilir bahis Claire to fume by herself.
Claire stomped around the house for a while, now doubly livid as she’d been due to go with Danny but had refused sullenly when he said it was time to go.
After some more moping, Claire decided that she wanted to go out for a drink, despite her standing promise to Danny that she wouldn’t go out without him for fear of being tricked and abused by unscrupulous strangers.
Who the hell was he to control her life, she fumed.
She decided to call her friend, Bianca.
Two hours later, Claire was with Bianca in a trendy cellar bar in the West End, sipping a Bacardi and Coke.
Bianca was one of Claire’s oldest friends and was always up for a good time. She was also fabulously attractive with rich dark skin, tight curly black hair, a lush curvaceous body and intelligent brown eyes. Indeed she used her body in her day-to-day role as a glamour model and in the evening as an occasional upmarket prostitute.
However where Claire was naïve and easily manipulated, Bianca, despite her fat tits and peachy arse, was sharp, quick and clever.
Claire had told her about some of her more interesting adventures and Bianca was often left stunned at just how easily Claire managed to get herself into such unlikely situations.
By contrast, Claire was disapproving of Bianca’s lucrative sideline, often scolding her judgementally for allowing ugly grunting old letches to use her body for money. The irony of Claire’s criticism made Bianca laugh, considering Claire’s own inadvertent erotic escapades.
Despite this, the two friends were close and right now were both equally attracting a lot of male attention in the bar.
Claire was wearing a short cropped white t-shirt which emphasised her formidable bust and revealed her flat creamy stomach, as well as a sage green micro-skirt over bare legs and unfeasibly high black strappy heels. Bianca was in a shimmering gold tight low cut dress that ended mid-thigh over high black stiletto boots. They both looked delicious.
Over the evening the girls were chatted up many times my many men. Bianca, used to being the target of such advances, flirted adeptly, refusing all offers and not allowing anyone to separate her from Claire.
Claire, still angry at Danny, enjoyed the attention although she was slightly annoyed at Bianca’s over-protectiveness.
In any case the girls didn’t have to buy themselves a drink all evening and got gradually drunker and drunker as time wore on.
Eventually Bianca found herself being seduced by a man she liked, a handsome C-list up-and-coming TV presenter. She decided that she’d like to go home with him to fuck but she knew she couldn’t leave a half-drunk Claire by herself in a bar.
Claire was having fun and didn’t really want to leave but Bianca managed to persuade her to leave and even found a licensed taxi with a female driver to take her home.
“See you later, Claire, and remember — don’t talk to any strange men!” Bianca giggled happily as she walked off to her flat, arm-in-arm with her newfound friend, who had already slipped a hand up her dress to finger her pussy.
Bianca sat in the back of the cab and decided, in a drunken way, that she needed to text Danny to tell him that she loved him.
She looked for her phone in her handbag but couldn’t find it.
“Wait!” she said to the driver who was just about to pull away. “I’ve left my phone in the bar. I need to go back and get it,” she explained as she jumped out the cab and back in.
She got to the bottom of the stairs and walked back into the bar, still rummaging in her handbag, before suddenly finding her phone tucked under her purse. She let out a huge sigh of relief. Thank goodness for that!
She was just turning to go when a man approached her and put his hand on her arm urgently.
“Please, help me. It’s just possible you could save my life!”
The man who was clinging onto her arm was middle-aged, balding, short and plump with unsightly acne. Claire hadn’t noticed him earlier but then most of the men who had chatted her up had been of the confident sort and generally more attractive.
“What do you mean?” she asked, startled, leaning in towards him to hear him over the loud music.
“I need your help. My name is Fiddle, Con Fiddle. I work for MI5,” he said importantly.
“Really?” Claire looked him up and down. He was wearing a yellow polo shirt, his stomach bulging unpleasantly over his jeans. She loved watching Spooks and other such spy series and Con didn’t really look much like a spy.
“Don’t be fooled by my disguise. Here, look at this,” he answered holding out a card.
Claire inspected it carefully, wary of Bianca’s warning. It was a normal business card but it had ‘MI5’ and a circular crest emblazoned over the top with a grainy picture of Con, his name and the title ‘Senior Field Officer’ underneath.
Claire looked up. “Is this real? It’s not even laminated,” she complained.
Con raised türkçe bahis an eyebrow enigmatically. “That’s so that I can eat it if ever get captured by the enemy.”
“Oh!” Claire gasped, impressed.
“What’s your name?” Con asked.
“I’m Claire Bell.”
“Good. Claire, I need your help. I wouldn’t normally involve a civilian in Her Majesty’s business but I don’t have any choice. I chose you because you look honest and brave. Am I right?”
Claire stood up a touch straighter, pushing her magnificent breasts out even further.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
Con held her hand and pulled her to a table in the corner, sitting down close next to her. “Let me explain,” he said into her ear. “I’m on an undercover counter-terrorist operation. I wouldn’t normally frequent a bar like this but I’m under observation right now by a cell of terrorists who think I’m a rich arms dealer and are here right now, checking me out before they approach me. I was due to meet a female operative here tonight and pick her up as if I were an international playboy just to confirm my cover. After all why would a beautiful young babe want me unless I were filthy rich?”
Claire shuffled even closer to him as he put an arm around her to pull her nearer.
He continued. “Unfortunately the contact has had an unforeseen accident on the way here and can’t make it. All the other female operatives on call tonight are too ugly for a wealthy playboy to be interested in. But it’s imperative the terrorists think I’m a prosperous weapons dealer, out on the town to meet a beautiful young woman with lax sexual morals and big tits. And that’s why I need you.”
Claire was captivated. “What do you want me to do?”
“Claire, I need you to pretend that you’re amazingly attracted to me and to be my girlfriend for the night. I know that in my disguise I’m not that striking but I need you to pretend that I’m the most gorgeous man you’ve ever met. Can you do this for me?”
“Well I have actually got some acting experience so I’m sure I could but I’m scared!” Claire replied.
“It’s OK. You’re in no danger. The terrorists won’t care that I’ve picked up a beautiful young woman in a bar for filthy casual sex. They just want to make sure that I really am a dissolute arms dealer and everyone knows arms dealers are always surrounded by lovely young women. Please, Claire. It won’t take long.”
Claire took a deep breath. She felt quite sober now. She nodded. “What do I have to do?”
Con smiled. “Thanks. You’ve probably saved my life and the lives of many others. All you need to do is do what any horny girlfriend would do.”
He looked up and around the crowded bar. “They could be watching right now. Come here,” he said, pulling her mouth down to his for a kiss.
Claire was startled at first but closed her eyes and did her best to kiss him back. She tried to ignore his onion-smelling breath and allowed him to slide his tongue into her mouth.
When he reached up to squeeze her right breast, she jumped but then relaxed and allowed him to grope her enormous boobs and pinch her nipples through her t-shirt. She had to act naturally.
They snogged for a few more minutes while Con’s hands wandered over her firm curvy body, sliding under her bum to squeeze it forcefully. Every time Claire came up for air, Con pulled her face back down to his, whispering, “Don’t stop. Make it more believable.”
Eventually, Con leant back. “Claire, you’re doing brilliantly. Give me your hand though. I think we need to go a step further to allay any suspicion. Here,” he said taking her hand and placing on the bulge at his crotch.
Claire was horrified but was careful not to pull her hand away in disgust. “Oh, my god! You’ve got an erection.”
Con nodded. “Of course. Remember I need to be in character. What man wouldn’t get an erection after feeling your large bouncy breasts and tight sexy butt?”
“Oh,” Claire replied, “I hadn’t thought of that. But do I really have to touch your cock?”
“Of course. Remember as far as the terrorists are concerned you’re really attracted to me, even if it’s because I’m rich. You have to keep pretending. Go on, give it a squeeze.”
Claire complied by reaching down with her left hand and stroking his bulge while he continued to kiss her long smooth neck, wincing at Con’s roughness as he tweaked her nipples mercilessly.
After a while, Claire whispered in Con’s ear. “Are they still watching?” she said, beginning to turn her head to look around.
Con hissed, “Stop! Don’t look,” before sliding his hand up her t-shirt and over her bra to grope her massive tits.
Matters continued in this vein for a while, Claire rubbing Con’s bulge while he fondled her breasts until, at some unseen signal and to Claire’s relief, he said, “Right. They’ve gone. Let’s get out of here.”
Claire grabbed her bag and, at Con’s guidance, held it casually in front of his rampant crotch while they left.
Outside the cool summer air stiffened her nipples. Her güvenilir bahis siteleri original taxi was long gone. She turned to say goodbye to him but he grabbed her suddenly and pulled her into the alley at the side of the club, taking her down to the end which was quiet and dark.
“What’s wrong?” Claire whispered, scared at Con’s sudden intensity.
Con looked around before answering. “I think I saw them watching. I didn’t want them to follow you home so I thought we should stagger our departures. I’ll leave first and draw them off.”
“Oh, thanks,” Claire said gratefully, dazed by his courage.
“But first, we need to think of some reason the two of us have come down this alley together,” Con pondered. “I just don’t know. Can you think of anything?”
Claire thought for a while before answering brightly. “Oh, I know! We could pretend we’ve come down here for sex. After all you’ve still got your erection and maybe you just couldn’t wait for me to satisfy it for you!” she said, pleased with her creativity.
“Brilliant, Claire! You know, you could make a great MI5 officer. Why don’t you get fantastic tits out? And remember anything I say or do is all part of the act.”
Claire lifted up her t-shirt and unclasped her bra before pulling it up and releasing her colossal creamy freckled boobs.
Con whispered, “Oh fuck!” before bending down to lick and suck her high stiff red nipples.
Claire held his head to her boobs, moaning in simulated pleasure as he slurped on her perfect breasts until he lifted his head.
“Claire, we might need to be even more convincing. It’s possible that they could be watching us right now with an infrared telescope.”
Claire looked up the alley but couldn’t see anyone. She thought a little more. “Oh. Well why don’t I suck your cock? They’ll be able to see it really clearly and then they won’t doubt that I’m your girl!”
Con cleared his throat. “Um, yes, that’s a really good idea.” He unzipped his flies.
Before she knew it, Claire was kneeling in the litter at his feet, her mouth full of his disagreeable penis which was small and tasted obnoxious, another part of his disguise, he assured her. Claire did her best to act as if she were enjoying the experience though, moaning around his erection and slurping enthusiastically as she alternately bobbed and slid her agile tongue around his foreskin.
Fairly soon she began to taste salty pre-cum and so she redoubled her efforts allowing Con to grab her rich auburn hair and fuck her mouth savagely.
“Oh fuck yes,” Con cried in ecstasy as he spurted generously over her tongue, impressing Claire with his attention to detail. Anyone would have thought he was making love to her mouth for the pleasure of it rather than to do his duty.
Unfortunately though, Claire was left with a mouthful of the most repugnant jism she had ever tasted, and over the last few months she had tasted some pretty rank cum. She thought about what Con’s pretend girlfriend would do next. She knew what the answer was.
Claire, thinking of Queen and country, took a deep breath and swallowed.
After he had recovered, Con gave Claire a hug, squeezing her pert buttocks while nuzzling his face between her fabulous knockers. “Thanks, Claire. You’ve done brilliantly. You’ve made your country proud.”
Claire blushed as she wiped a few drops of stray spunk off her chin. “Oh, thank you so much, Con. By the way, is that your real name?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that – it’s classified. You are aware of course that you are now bound by the term of the 1923 Official Secrets Act. You can tell no-one about this encounter.”
“Of course. I won’t tell a soul,” Claire replied earnestly.
“So, Claire, how have you enjoyed your first taste of being a secret agent?” Con asked.
“Well the taste wasn’t so good but it was really exciting, you know, doing something so dangerous,” she said, eyes bright with exhilaration.
“Claire, I’ve been really impressed with you. I wouldn’t normally ask this but would you be willing to help me out again on some low-risk activity? I think you might have what it takes to be a great officer.”
Claire couldn’t believe it. She was being asked to become a spy! Her chest swelled with pride. She paused to savour the moment, took a deep breath and replied.
“Of course! Do you want my number?”
The next day Claire kept an eye out in case she was being followed. Very quickly she began to feel that every man she met was watching her. At first she worried that she might be being stalked by terrorists but then she realised that none of them were looking at her face, just her substantial bosom and her tight peachy butt.
She also kept her mobile close in case Con called. She even browsed the MI5 website, to see if there were any tips she might pick up in her new undercover role.
She’d made her peace with Danny but of course she couldn’t tell him what had happened for two reasons: first, she had to keep her identity and activities secret. And second, Danny wouldn’t have been too happy that Claire had sucked off another man, even if it were for reasons of national security. Luckily, she’d got home before him the previous evening and so, after brushing her teeth, no evidence remained of her indiscretion.
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