The pleading in her tone tore at his heart.

  “Because I... You’re my friend, and I just don’t want to ruin things...” His voice softened as he tried desperately to make her understand. “What about Elsa?”

  “I’m not going to tell her. All I want is one night. Just one night, nothing else... just once. It’s not going to change anything, Terry, I promise...” A stray tear rolled down her cheek and Faye didn’t have the heart to brush it aside. She’d come so close, he couldn’t turn her down, not now.

  So, instead, Faye threw herself at him. Literally.

  Too surprised to get out of the way, Terry could only gawk dumbly as she barrelled into his legs. She sent him reeling back onto the bed that took up one whole corner of the room. Then she was on him. With one move, she ripped open his trousers, then pulled his boxers down.

  Oh...my...God! In spite of the fear winding her belly into a thick rope of knots, Faye licked her lips as his cock stood rampant before her eyes.

  Fingers shaking, she reached out and tried to wrap her hand around him. He was so thick she couldn’t even get her thumb and finger to meet. Marvelling at the way it pulsed and throbbed, she started to pump her hand. She took her time, running her hand down from the swollen head to the thick base and then back again with the slow, almost hypnotic motions she’d heard could work guys into a frenzy.

  Scarcely able to breathe, Terry could only seize the sheets with white-knuckled fists as his whole body seemed to writhe beneath the siren’s hand job. With that first touch, Faye had stolen all his strength away. He was powerless and completely unable to stop himself from bucking into her hand with every stroke of her palm. He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this, that it wasn’t right, but just felt so good. He couldn’t resist.

  “F-Faye wh... what... what are you doing? No... oh fuck... Stoooohhhh!”

  His whole body spasmed at the lush heat that suddenly whispered over his flesh. Breath and pulse quickening, he looked down in time to watch his friend lean in and wrap those full, kissable lips around the head of his cock.

  “You want me, don’t you, Terry?” she asked, running her tongue along the edge of his crown. “Mmm...I know you do. Your cock’s so big and delicious.”

  Though she had virtually no first-hand experience giving head, Faye made up for that with determination and continued to slowly run her hand up and down his thick column, while her mouth, tongue, and teeth played with the swollen head.

  “Oh God, Faye... Please... Stop.” His voice was choked and thick with pleasure.

  Faye couldn’t resist giving him a sly, playful smile. God, his flavour, that musky scent, the very...feeling. She’d had no idea sex could feel like this. It was incredible to have such power over him. It both thrilled her and turned her on, got her heart pumping and made her panties soaked. She wanted to make it last forever, but knew she needed to move things along before her nerve broke. So Faye dipped lower, her lips flowing over the slick, velvety flesh, stretching to their limit as she began to bob her head.

  Terry thought he was going to go mad. The head of his cock was tingling with sensations. It was so sensitive that he could feel everything as she took him into that hot cavern of wonders. He could feel the way her teeth scraped across the edges. The swift creases of her tongue on the tip, even the delicious rush of warmth that washed over him every time she inhaled. He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. That it was wrong. She was his best friend, and he had a girlfriend. Everything told him he should make her stop before this went too far, but it just felt so good.

  She was barely halfway down when his hips began to churn. Despite her resolve to take him all in, when the thick crest breached her throat, she gagged. The reflex was as violent as anything she’d ever felt. Instinctively knowing she was at her limit, she pulled back until she could breathe again. Lingering there only long enough to catch her breath, however, she reached down and grabbed the bottom of her top. With one quick tug, she pulled the snug garment up and over her breasts.

  Mesmerised by her beauty, Terry didn’t dare look away as Faye’s bountiful cleavage bounced and jiggled with every dip of her head as she resumed working on him. They were larger than Elsa’s, but not so overly large that they appeared comical or artificial, and tipped by rosy nipples that he so badly wanted to lick. Just to see if they tasted as good as they looked.

  Glancing up in time to catch him openly ogling her, Faye would have smiled if her mouth wasn’t so full.

  His eyes grew wider than saucers as he watched her drop both her hands to her sides, gather up the objects of his attention, and lean in to envelop the remainder of his cock between her tits. Continuing to suckle the weeping head, she began slowly sliding her chest up and down, massaging the thick base with her breasts, timing her motions to match her mouth’s slow up and down rhythm.

  Unable to breathe or think, Terry felt as though his life’s thread was hanging on the edge of a knife. On one side was his self-control, on the other, his release from this torturous pleasure Faye was conjuring up. He hungered for both but knew that giving into one would extinguish the other...

  In theory, it should have been an easy choice. Elsa was his girlfriend. He loved her, he thought, and was determined not to do anything that might jeopardise the relationship. Unfortunately, his body seemed to have its own ideas.

  “Oh shit!” he gasped as he felt his orgasm coming. One last stroke was all it took. In a rush, rope after rope of his thick, creamy seed flooded her waiting mouth. Faye swallowed greedily. Only when she had got every last drop did she pull off.

  “Mmm... you’re delicious,” she cooed, raising her eyes to meet his. “Please sir, can I have some more...” Her voice failed her when she saw the primal hunger gleaming back at her like quick-silver. Suddenly afraid, she tried to back away, but one of his large hands came down to seize her bunched up top and yank it over her head and arms. Unprepared for his sudden aggression, her body folded to his will as, with one move, he rose, lifted her and threw her across the bed. Surprised by the abrupt change in him, she didn’t dare move from there as he dragged her skirt and soaked panties down her legs.

  Stepping in behind her, Terry seized her waist and pulled her back, so his crown brushed over her folds and lodged against her exposed clit.

  “Oh...” Faye squealed, stars bursting behind her eyes.

  “Just once,” he breathed again in that low, sexy tone. His breath hot on the back of her neck, that tongue teasing her ear. “Hold on to something.”

  With another roll, he entered her.

  “Fuck!”

  The burn of her vagina stretching around him as he filled her was utterly overwhelming and seemed to go on and on. No, he seemed to go on and on. Fisting the sheets against the delicious ache, she was immediately grateful for all those quiet evenings alone with her kindle, and her B.O.B. In the beginning, it had seemed like a woefully inadequate way to lose her virginity, but without them, there’d be no way she would ever have accommodated him. Victory loves preparation, indeed.

  The odd position was making her feel somewhat disorientated. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, but beneath that, there was an exquisite feeling of fullness, the likes of which she could never have imagined.

  She was just starting to get used to the feeling when he suddenly switched and began to withdraw, pulling back from her desperate sucking grip, until just the head remained inside her. Then he pushed back in.

  “This what you want, baby?” Terry growled, dragging her back to meet him as he did, opening her up a bit more and sliding deeper.

  “Y-yes...”

  “You love it, don’t you?”

  He repeated the slow draw, then thrust again, and then again, working up a smooth, steady rhythm that quickly had the heavy weight of his balls slapping her clit.

  “It’s so good... feels so fucking good... I... I can’t...”

  “Can’t what Faye?”

  She gasped and babbled in an answer.

  Utterly overwhelmed, Faye’s mouth gaped as she felt him forcing himself a little deeper inside her every time. She felt so full, almost ready to burst. With every stroke, his thick member was hitting that spot deep inside her. God, she had never known sex could be this good. She wanted more, and of its own accord, her body responded by moving to meet his thrusts, rocking and grinding her bottom against his pelvis.

  Swept up in the rising tide that signalled an approaching orgasm, she had to squeeze her eyes shut against the pleasure as hot tears of ecstasy crept down her cheeks like the cream rolling down her legs. Burning like liquid desire through her veins, her orgasm promised to be a big one, and she was sure she’d be walking funny for days.

  On second thoughts, nothing, not her B.O.B or any other toy, living or rubber, could ever hope to have prepared her for the storm Terry was stirring inside her.

  “Oh, it’s so fucking good! Fuck me, Terry! Fuck my little pussy so good!”

  Terry was happy to oblige. “Mmm... I never guessed you were such a little slut. Begging to get fucked like my own dirty little whore, while I use your hot little cunt like my fuck toy.”

  This was madness, but he didn’t care. With a white-knuckled grip on her, he snapped his hips back and forth in a violent rhythm that filled the space between them with wet slaps and made the bed rock and bang against the wall. In layman’s terms, he was fucking Faye, and it was clear she loved every moment of it. With each thrust, he poured all his years of pent up lust and desire for this girl into her body and she would rock and grind her succulent bottom back against his pelvis in a wanton frenzy. Only it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. He wanted her, all of her, and not just this once...

  “Oh... oh my God... oh my God... oh-oh-oh fuck you’re going to make me cum! You’re gonna make me- I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

  Consumed by the wild passion of their forbidden tryst, time seemed to hold its breath as bursts of brilliant colour ignited behind her eyes and the knot in her centre erupted in wild convulsions that rippled with white-hot fire through her nerves, from her core to the tips of her fingers.

  “Yeah! Cum for me, Faye,” Terry ordered, supporting her, continuing his furious pace without missing a beat. “Cum all over my cock.”

  “Yes!” Faye babbled senselessly, her long legs trembling violently as wave after wave crashed over her, the orgasm extending into two. Then three.

  She was only vaguely aware that she was growing light-headed. Fog encroached on the edge of her vision. God, he was too much. “Use me however you want! Make me your little toy... That’s your pussy, it’s yours! I... I love you, Terry! I love you, fuck me whenever you want to... I... I...”

  “Oh fuck! Faye!” Caught off guard by her words, his release came upon him so suddenly, it was all Terry could do not to succumb right then and there. He knew he should pull out, but something deep down, dark and very primal, wanted to mark her. To take that final step and claim her as his own. It was that side that won out and with a low grunt, he came inside her, his balls tightening until black spots danced before his eye as he flooded her core with his thick creamy seed.

  They collapsed together onto the bed. Exhausted, they rolled and twisted until they found themselves beneath the sheets and curled together, spooning in the bliss that carried them both to sleep. There were no words said. No feelings that needed to be said. They both just knew...

  When Faye awoke in the morning, to the bright new dawn, the first of a new year filled with possibilities, Terry was gone.

  As a rule, never fuck with the Germans. Krauts weren’t known for their sense of humour.

  Then again, rules were meant to be broken.

  It took a lot for Terry to think he was in trouble, but when the first of his interrogators walked into the room, he knew he was well past that point. In fact, he was so far up shit creek, the water had dried up and he was slogging up fucked up way with a very clear dead end just ahead.

  A dead-end in the shape of a huge, meaty fist arcing straight towards his...

  Light exploded across his eyes. Pain split his skull and the manacles, leashing him to the floor-bolted chair, were all that kept his naked body from being thrown over the armrest as the fist slammed into the side of his head like a .50 BMG bullet.

  It was a decent punch, short and fast. Pretty bloody fast for a bugger that size.

  Then again, Terry couldn’t say he was surprised- the guy had the look. The look of a man well-schooled in violence, with a barely restrained savagery that made his eyes burn a baleful blue. Like a savage dog.

  At well over 6-foot-tall, with a broad and muscular frame that bulged beneath his tight black t-shirt and a face like an anvil topped with a brush of sharp blonde hair, Terry could imagine this was just the sort of man dear old Heinrich Himmler had been picturing when he had outlined the requirements for joining his infamous SS.

  Just the sort of man the Spooks would hire for a job like this.

  Across from him, his inquisitors watched from behind the safety of the Dell XPS’s 15’ screen propped up on the steel table in the centre of the room.

  Once they would have been required to sit in on this personally, but times had changed. The cold war was long over, and the miracles of modern technology ensured they could now ask him all the questions they wished from the safety of their conference room on the top floor.

  God forbid the bastards risk getting blood on their dry clean-only suits.

  There were five of them. Four men. One woman seated at the centre.

  All of them were clean cut and dressed in immaculate grey business wear. So grey, the colour seemed to have seeped into their very skin. The typical bunch of German bureaucrats.

  None of them spoke. Nor had they asked a question yet. They just watched, their faces blank and expressionless, regarding him with all the contempt they would a bug.

  A cockroach they were about to crush.

  “Ow...Such hospitality. I take it we’re skipping the tea and biscuits?” Terry groaned, working his jaw from right to left. It hurt like hell, but there were no bones broken, not yet anyway. “Isn’t this the part where you ask me my name?”

  “We know who you are, Mr Walker.” The woman didn’t waste time with niceties. “Who and what you are. We know everything there is to know about you.” Her English was perfect, but she had a slight classical German accent that was unmistakable amidst the mess of pompous verbal diarrhoea.

  That was about the only thing classically German about her.

  Far from the ancient Germanic portrayals of bountiful blonde German womanhood, she was thin and lean in a no-nonsense two-piece and had the sternest face of any woman Terry had ever seen. With her grey streaked black hair pulled back into a bun and tight leathery skin that only came from smoking forty Reemtsma a day, she was definitely the sort of woman more suited to riding in the back of a Luxury Mercedes Saloon than working out in the fields.

  In fact, she probably couldn’t remember the last time she’d been somewhere there wasn’t a decent phone signal.

  Or enjoyed a good bit of German Bratwurst.

  She opened up one of the Manilla folders that had been placed on the desk for each of the five. Her eyes moved like chunks of lead rolling from side to side in their sockets as she skimmed over the contents. Then she fixed him with a look so cold, he could have sworn a shiver moved down his spine. “Terrance Andrew Christopher Walker. Dual British and American Citizen, born in Great Britain, October 1990. British father. American mother. Both were killed in the 2009 PIRA London Underground Bombing. You’d been in America at the time, studying at the New York University.

  “Shortly after, you dropped out and enlisted in the British Army, just barley passing selection to join the Rifles Regiment. You remained there, seeing some service in both The Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, until being discharged on a charge of conduct unbecoming in 2017. Thereafter you have been working, what is it you British say, the circuit, as a freelance mercenary.”

  She closed the file and steepled her fingers. “In short, an unremarkable carrier, distinguished only by the shame of your failure. No family. No wife. No one to mourn you. A man easily overlooked and forgotten.”

  The thin pale lines of her lips twisted into a cruel twist of barbed wire as she stressed the point. It reminded Terry of a crocodile’s grin.

  Yeah, just keep grinning bitch, we’ll see who has the last laugh.

  “What can I say, I left my heart in New York. Did your source forget to mention I also wrote songs? I gave Tony Bennet the lyrics, but the cheap bastard thought San Francisco sounded better and cut me out.”

  “Your sense of humour does not impress us, Mr Walker, you are inconsequential, a nobody.”

  “But you do know all about me,” he countered, doing his best Jack Sparrow impression.. “I, on the other hand, know nothing about you so maybe nobody thought you were worth mentioning?”

  A flushed, suet pudding of a man with thinning blonde hair and a face like a squashed bullfrog on her right slammed his fist on the table in outrage. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr Walker. You are in the custody of the Bundesnachrichtendienst! The greatest intelligence organisation the world has ever seen.” This one was all Bavarian, with an accent thicker than his neck. “We have people everywhere. You are just an evolutionsbremse lustmolch.”

  An evolutionary brake pleasure newt huh? Talk about losing something in the translation.

  Terry snorted. “Size is no proof of quality Fritz.”

  The bullfrog flushed, turning a shade of red-grey and swelled up with such rage that the buttons of his shirt would probably pop off at any moment. Then the storm passed, he deflated, then nodded.

  It was only the slightest of movements, a subtle dip of his squashed head, but it was all that Himmler’s poster boy needed as he came round to tower over his victim.

  Terry refused to let himself be cowed. He knew the score. They were pissed and he was the only one left alive to question, or blame.

  He could take a beating. That was the easy part.

 

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