Steph slid her tongue across the barrel's head and paused to flutter over the hole like a butterfly, and she absorbed the oil, the faint musk of sweat from where D had slung the .44 in his pants. Steph smiled up at him, and closed her mouth on the barrel and took the barrel five inches into her throat, moaning lowly as she rubbed her thighs together, grinding her swollen sex between her thong and her thighs.
D moaned as well and his pants ballooned. Sweat beaded on his lips as he stood Steph down, trying to concentrate.
She was supposed to die, this wasn't supposed to happen. But here he was, and damn if he weren't having a grand old time.
Steph bobbed her head down on his pistol, and he eased his finger off the trigger and flicked the safety on, she didn't notice, her fingers now sliding and rubbing over her mound; he could see her juices soaking through her skirt, the imprint of her thong against the wet fabric.
With two fingers, D unzipped his jeans, and freed his swollen cock. Steph wasted no time, and plunged her hot sloppy mouth on the swollen head.
She moaned and put her tongue into action. Thrilled, and rushing with the gun oil, the threat of death. His cock was thicker than the barrel and warm, she inhaled his scent as it permeated the hot air about her face.
Sweat, chase, and danger. He'd been one-step behind her all night. His blood pumped like a shotgun through the fat veins of his cock. She briefly pressed her teeth around the crown. She felt every beat of his heart, the blood a regular rush with his elated and elevated heart.
Steph sucked her lips back, and focused on the head, sliding her tongue over the hole, and riding her fingernails up his shaft and into the warm pocket of his jeans. She found his balls and gently squeezed them. For a second D tensed, as he must have thought she was going to try to cripple him. But she didn't, she moaned instead and bent her neck back so she could take more of him in her mouth, his raging cock dipping into her back throat. She pounded her face into his dick, and he responded by gripping the back of her neck and fucking her mouth.
4
D had been following her for almost a year. At first as a marginal spook, marking her comings and goings, and later, nearly six months ago, he began eavesdropping on her cell phone conversations, her email, and her computer traffic.
The bitch was busy. Bilking web businesses with phantom sites, skimming money from government grant projects, white collar crime. She lived in a trendy suburban neighborhood, for which she had siphoned nearly $900,000 from, by creating a phantom website where she took resident's mortgage payments on-line.
And now she was removing her dress. At first tearing a small hole in the top, then ripping the hole across her chest so that her breast fell out, her nipples like bullets.
He cast the gun aside, and she sucked him deeper. He reached down and ripped the remainder of the dress away. She moved up into a half kneeling position, her ass up in the air. D got the message and reached around her and pulled her thong aside, sinking a finger deep into her ass, and sliding his thumb across her clitoris. She yelped and buckled, and sucked his index finger deeper into her ass, and his thumb ground up and into her. She moaned fiercely, and in one swift motion pulled her mouth from his cock, and turned over to open her pussy to his engorged prick. He wasted no time and plunged into her wet cunt. She screamed and took all ten inches into her womb, as he pounded into her.
D had never once caught Steph fucking anyone, but his partner Nicky had. Nicky shared the shadow detail, and was the moon to his sun, and being female often entered Steph's world, having followed her into restaurant bathrooms, and into clothing shops to get a feel for the little sneak.
"She's a little sneaky fuck," Nicky cooed to D the first time they discussed her dossier. Normally government agents on their detail didn't discuss "clients." Competition. Especially between female agents and male agents. Some old dusty code about women being better at paperwork was the stinking dead elephant in the room, as far as Nicky was concerned. And she could smell the misogyny on D's breath when he snickered at her suggestions about how to trap the little bitch. It was the same everywhere in the agency. But she worked her sex well, flirting with D to draw information she had not witnessed firsthand. Small details, such as the look on Steph's face after filching a million from a "client," or the way Steph held her cigarette after a meal. These trivial details meant nothing to D, but meant everything to Nicky, who read them like tea leaves, and would use them to gather more intelligence later.
And because D was cute, she had taken to following him on occasion, gathering even more information on Steph, so Nicky herself could make the bust, get the promotion, take the praise.
And she couldn't believe it when she set up watch on the perimeter of the nightclub, where Steph was supposed to meet a client. It wasn't yet D's turn to work the nightshift, having been on days for two weeks straight he still had another four days before he would take over the night shift. Still Nicky didn't say anything because she could tell that D was on to something. She would follow him, gather information, and maybe spoil his bust by nabbing her first. D had proved to be a lousy spook. He looked more like a bouncer and stood out all evening. It was no wonder Steph evaded him. In fact, over the last few weeks Nicky was sure their cover was blown, for as soon as D trailed her to a spot, Steph vanished. As if she had grown eyes in the back of her head.
And when Steph disappeared from her sight, Nicky faded from the club to the brownstone roofs like smoke, and poured her focus through her night binoculars in on Steph's naked body bent over on the alley floor.
The sight of her body surprised her.
"What a whore." Nicky purred. She moved the binoculars back up Steph's body, admiring the curve of her thighs, and the muscle which bounced with the rhythm of a deep fuck. Nicky paused to catch the glistening glimpses of Steph's shaved pussy that winked back at her every few seconds as Steph's lover pounded into her.
She's wet, Nicky thought. Her inner thighs are soaked. Nicky bit her lower lip and felt her own body warm. Her nipples tightened and pulled up into bullets. Nicky tugged on her shirt which ran across her breasts and heated her up even more.
"I wonder who your fucking, huh, baby." For weeks Nicky didn't think the woman was human. She didn't date, didn't watch porn, not even girly porn, or even seem to be interested in sex. Her criminal activities kept her away from clubs and dating scenes. Once, while disguised as a redhead, she complained to Steph in a country club bathroom about men, implying that perhaps the two of them should get together and express themselves, however Nicky was surprised when Steph not only turned her down, but recommended a stiff cock as a cure for her troubles.
Yet the woman didn't have sex. And yet, here she was bent over on an alley floor, at two in the morning getting fucked from behind by a black stud.
"Kinda looks like D." The thought was there before she said it, and as she said it she recognized the face, the dark skin, the handsome chin. "Oh. Well, now." She purred, and dipped her fingers under her skirt and ran them across her damp panties.
Steph moaned and pulled her head back, and D took the hint and pulled her hair.
