Andropov groans as he sees the much younger woman's ass rise, leaning over her body to reach out and grope at her leather-clad cheeks, fingers squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as the wet sounds of flesh on flesh and the steady drip drip drip of saliva fill the room every time he thrusts into her throat. This is the life. He thinks to himself. At this point, he doesn't care if she completes her mission and blows his brains out immediately afterwards. The thrill of having a young beauty, one sent here to kill him no less, obediently sucking on his manhood, accepting it as he ravages her throat, is worth it all. He gazes down into those big blue eyes, watching the expression of devotion on her face, and it's all he can do not to laugh. He doesn't know what the KGB did to this girl, but they did it well.
Olena feels blessed air finally return to her lungs as Andropov pulls out of her throat as roughly as he entered it. He lets go of her hair, and she collapses into a puddle of her own drool, coughing and sputtering in a heap. The old man is far from done, though, slipping his hands beneath her armpits and hoisting her up. She feels him push her up against the wall, bringing his face to hers. The kiss is nothing like the fairy tale pecks she'd imagined sharing with Prince Charming when she was a girl. This is forceful, dominant - his tongue invading her mouth to press against her own, as he presses his body into her. She feels his manhood rubbing against her leather-clad thigh. Finally, they break. "A blowjob isn't enough, girl... Come with me." He grips her hand, leading her out into the hallway, and through to a well-decorated chamber filled by a large bed with silk sheets. "Get that silly thing off." He orders, pinching at the fabric of her bodysuit - degrading the symbol of her power and authority as an agent.
Olena took a deep breath as soon as the the option was available to her, settling on her knees before the small pool of drool between her legs and adding its shine to her chest. She had little time for respite, however, as Andropov lifted her up and pressed her against the wall, hands pinning her wrists in line with her head as his tongue plundered her mouth as surely as his cock had. While the Vixen had her flights of childish fancy of being married to a wonderful, well-off man that would take good care of her, she had long since forsaken those fantasies, replacing them with the more grounded desire of being... Well, desired. Sought after. Played with. Made useful...
Used. Thus she allowed herself to be orally invaded, while she grinded herself against her conqueror's manhood, made wet by her saliva.
"Not enough," Olena's mind concurred with Andropov, though she was a bit busy trying to catch her breath. Heady with breathlessness and the taste and smell of the old man's cock still fresh in memory, the redhead offered no resistance as she was ushered along into another room. Andropov's bedroom? The thought came and went as he pinched her suit - pinched
her, considering how tight it was. She let out a low squeak, followed by another husky, submissive "
yes, sir," before stepping away. She makes a point to turn her back on him as she takes a couple paces away, allowing him to see just how tightly the bodysuit clings to her every curve before she removed it for his benefit. She twisted about, placing one hand just above the right side of her derriere, a mix of smoldering desire and nervous energy clear in her expression as her other hand reached for the zipper below her throat, beginning to slowly, slowly,
slooowly pull it down, revealing inch after inch of milky pale flesh... As the bodysuit grew looser, hopefully the financial documents fell deeper into it, hiding it from Andropov's gaze... Hopefully.
However, as the bodysuit began to split open, Olena teased Andropov by turned back to her front, still looking over her shoulder at him as her tits, nipples erect in the cold air and charged atmosphere of the bedroom but hidden from view for now. As consolation, the Vixen began to sway, wide hips that
begged to be grabbed and filled out undulating from side to side like a ship at sea. Her voluminous derriere jiggled each time the motion terminated and pendulously swung back in the other direction. All the while, the bodysuit continued to peel downward, half from the zipper descending and half from momentum... When it reached her waist, Olena hesitated. This was her last chance to come to her senses. Her last chance to show the old man she wouldn't submit so meekly to him. That she wouldn't stand to be treated like a whore. A slut. A... A toy... And with those thoughts in mind, that alternative course of action that would be more in line with who she was
expected to be, the voluptuous double-agent shook the bodysuit down the over the swell of her posterior, baring herself to the man that - without firing a shot or swinging a fist in anger - had so thoroughly subdued his would-be assassin.
Pale ass out for Andropov's pleasure, Olena twisted her torso about, repeating her initial pose, now showing him everything she had to offer, from her plump breasts, to her hard six-pack of abs, to her fat ass, and thick thighs... For now, at least, he had won.
. Sorry it's taken so long to write a response. I didn't like my earlier response so I axed it.)
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