Even as I, Brock Gordon, was travelling to my next contract destination I was asking myself why I agreed to accept this assignment. I guess the main reasons were that I wanted to forget my ex-wife, the money was good, I was told time and time again that it was the patriotic thing to do and would benefit national security (indeed international security for all Western Nations) more than any other thing that I could do, and I had the perfect background for the job.
I work for a corporation that has contracts with Western governments for clandestine activities. My particular area of expertise is securing and analyzing electronic data from terrorists and other potential enemies to thwart attacks. Although only thirty one years old I have a BSc in computer science from MIT in the United States, a Masters in Infrastructure Protection and International Security from Carelton University in Canada, and a Ph. D. in Strategy and Security from the Uinversity of Exeter in the UK.
The assignment was to last roughly a year -- the projected time it would take to do what was needed -- in a remote location in British Columbia, Canada. Most of the workers were US, Canadian, British and German military, although there were a few other private contractors. There were about thirty workers in all, twenty of which had university degrees and actual experience in security matters, particularly thwarting terrorism. The technological facilities were state-of-the-art.
Since the entire program was secret the workers who had wives (there were no married women who were workers), and even children, had them along. No one ever wore a uniform. The facility -- as far as the neighbors (about 1100 natives) knew -- was for bitcoin mining, although if one of them had really looked into the situation (none did in my time there) they would see that the facility didn't use nearly as much electrical energy as a bitcoin mining operation would, nor did it make nearly as much noise (although literature about the facility said that advanced sound-proofing technology, never before used, was the reason for the relative quiet of the facility).
All the workers were in rotating shifts so that the facility was always manned by at least seven workers.
Most of the workers were very friendly, and we often had get-togethers of ten--twelve families at a time. There was no attempt to ostracize single people (men or women) like me.
After about a month on the job I liked the work and felt it worthwhile, and we were making progress and had already thwarted one terrorist attack in the UK. I noticed, however, that most of the fourteen wives who were there seemed to be bored. While they had a social club and a gym to work out in, and those that had kids as well as some without kids helped at the local understaffed elementary school, there was no possibility for them to work or to get a significant amount of satisfaction, movie nights and parties notwithstanding.
There was one thing that I didn't like about the situation. Actually, that's an understatement. There was one thing about the situation which was maddening. There were no single women that I was attracted to. The single women who were workers were very competent and intelligent people -- but shallow individual that I am I had no interest in them because they were universally plain or downright ugly. I was very friendly with them, but had negative sexual attraction to them.
The roughly 1100 townspeople also were devoid of any single women more than a 5 on a ten point scale. It seems that all of the decent to good-looking single women moved to Vancouver or another big city, although a few did get married to local guys.
Because of the remoteness of the location and how long the work hours were, there was no opportunity for any decent pussy by travelling unless one had four days in a row off -- which happened about once a month, if at all.
In view of my situation with my ex-wife and the need for comradery of the workforce, I was not about to chase after wives of workers even if that was practical -- which it was not. None of the wives dressed provocatively -- because it was not that type of place -- although over the first month I did see half of them in the gym while I was working out and the ones I saw appeared to have good bodies. In fact -- I was embarrassed that I was keeping track -- of the fourteen wives I would say that all had faces of a 7 or above on a 10 point scale, and bodies -- as best as could be determined since there were no bikini events -- of at least an 8.
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About six weeks into my work in a remote part of British Columbia I had had a very successful day. I was almost solely responsible for ferreting out a terrorist attack in Toronto which Canadian authorities quickly quashed, but when I got to my small detached house around 10 p. m. for some reason my lack of sex hit me hard. I went on the Internet with the intention of jacking off to some porn when I checked one of my email accounts.
Aside from the normal unwanted solicitations, and a few quick notes from friends and relatives, there was one with an unusual title. I would have thought that it might be a typical porn solicitation except that the title -- "Enigmatic Local Whores" -- intrigued me. I clicked on it.
Of course I would never had clicked on an attachment -- a sure way to get your computer infected with a virus -- and apparently the author of the email recognized that because he/she/it had six photos in the body of the email. All were frontal views of naked women with masks on their faces and what looked like the same or a similar blonde wig. The words were straightforward:
"Local Mystery Whores are available for the right man. Must be single and know how to please a woman -- sexual satisfaction must go both ways. The following opportunities are available the next week for the whores in Photos A-F; price can be negotiated before services are provided. Our whores don't show their faces or reveal their identities, don't flirt, and talk little -- but they love to fuck, and moan. Fill out the questionnaire -- no names:"
Following that were Photo letters and dates and times. An example is:
"Whore in Photo D; Monday 4/12 one or more hours between 8 a. m. and 12 p. m.; Thursday, 4/15 one or more hours between 7 p. m. and midnight."
The only thing that the questionnaire required was "Address of liaison....Price range...Whore letter...Date and Time of liaison...Amount of time desired..."
I cogitated for at least a half hour looking carefully at the photos and batting back and forth in my mind whether this was fake, a joke, a potential disaster, or a way to shave off my horns. What swayed me to reply was the fact that my cock was stiff as a board. As best I could tell from the relatively small photos, according to my tastes the women in photos A, D, and F had a body between 9 and 10, and those in B, C, and E a body between 8 and 9; in other words all eminently suitable for my needs.
The whore in Photo D had a date and time that most suited me; As the Price Range I but "$100/hr.+" and as the amount of time I put "Two hours." If the women in photo D was even close to as good looking and interested as it seemed I probably would have paid $1000/hr. I am well paid and had nothing to spend my money on so the money wasn't a consideration. With one last sigh I closed my eyes and hit the "Send" icon.
I did have to jack off to relieve my blue balls, but I had a very good night's sleep dreaming of porking "Whore D."
The next morning when I got up and checked my computer I was surprised to already see a response. "The Whore in Photo D is available for two hours on April 14 from 10 p. m. to midnight, $100/hr., cash only, condoms necessary. Click on the icon to accept."
I read it twice, clicked on the icon, and couldn't wait for Wednesday night to see if it was real.
It was hard getting work done Wednesday thinking about that night. I had so many questions in my mind -- where was the whore coming from, did she really look like the photo, was it going to be some sick joke, etc. I finally concentrated enough to get my work done and got home by 8 p. m. to shower, clean up the house (I'm a neat freak and it didn't need much) including changing the sheets on my bed, and take a quick nap.
I couldn't believe it when there was a knock at my back door at 9:58. I looked out -- without turning on the outside overhead light -- and saw what sure looked like a woman about five feet six inches (168 cm) tall in a cape with what appeared to be a long pants and sleeve exercise outfit under it.
I opened the door and the woman quickly stepped into my house and then pulled down the shade covering the windows in the door. She took off all of her clothes exposing a body that sure did look like the one in Photo D except that her pussy had sparse pubic hair instead of being shaved as in the photo. Her mask wasn't cute, but also wasn't creepy, and her blonde wig seemed to be tightly attached. In a husky obviously mechanically altered voice she said "Please put the $200 in my fanny pack and then lead me to your bedroom."
I did as told and disrobed quickly -- I only had exercise shorts and a T-shirt on -- as soon as I entered my bedroom. She stared at my hard cock for a good fifteen or twenty seconds then asked "Do you have Magnum Condoms?"
"Sure do," I replied, holding out a box of twelve.
Kissing on the facial lips was not possible with her mask on, but she wasted no time in fondling my testicles and playing with the foreskin on my cock. "Uncut, I like that," she moaned while playing with my foreskin as I fingered her pussy and sucked on a tit which I estimated was a C cup round tit.
It wasn't long before we moved from a standing position to a prone one on my clean sheets. I anticipated -- given the "mutual" comment in the email -- that I would get a good review and would be able to call on Whore D again is she had a good time if I ate her pussy -- something that I always liked to do anyway, as long as it didn't smell like three-day-old fish.
Dee's (I called her "Dee") pussy was clean and fragrant. After I ate and fingered it to two quick orgasms I rolled a condom on my steel-rod-like cock and entered her vaginal vestibule. She wasn't super-tight, but definitely snug enough for a great fuck. What I wasn't counting on was that after I was completely buried -- even though she wasn't super-tight and was lubricated it still took a minute or two to completely bury my rod without hurting her -- she turned into a wild woman. The way she bucked and rotated her pelvis and squeezed and released her pc muscles was like it was the most important thing in the world to her.
Dee was so fucking active -- and active at fucking -- that I came faster than I ever have before with a condom on. That didn't seem to bother her since she also seemed to cum almost completely with me -- unless she was a great actress.
We both lay panting, wiped out, and despite the relative quickness of our copulation with a sheen of sweat on our bodies.
