Amanda Simmons Fbi-Petey

This is my first attempt at a submittal, I hope you like it. Please feel free to comment. This is meant to be one chapter of a much larger work. Positive comments are likely to push me to explore the rest of the story sooner. Enjoy!

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Amanda looked down at the doorknob with mixed emotions. On the other side of this door was a man that she knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that she hated. She hated everything that he was, everything that he stood for, and pretty much everything in his world.

She also knew that she was about to give him one of the best blowjobs that he would ever get in his miserable, pathetic life. And that, for her own very private reasons, gave her great satisfaction. A touch of excitement also spiced the mix of emotions that she felt as she put her hand to the door, turned the knob, and stepped inside.

Two years earlier, she had graduated in the top 20 of her class in Quantico, Va. She put everything she had into her training, and it showed. She had excelled in Marksmanship, Self Defense, and Critical Thinking. Even though she and the other trainees were constantly reminded that they were just that, trainees, and not worth the dog shit on the soles of the shoes of a "real agent," she was not surprised when she was called to three separate meetings less than a week after graduation.

The first was from the head of an anti-terrorism unit. A-T was the latest rage, and the reason that most of the trainees wanted to join the FBI. She could not help noticing the disappointment and very subtle hints of confusion on the face of the agent when she later declined his offer to join A-T.

The second meeting that she had was with Special Agent Melody Maines. Despite her pleasant sounding name, Agent Maines was anything but. She was hard-ass, through and through. No bullshit, no frills, and no personality. Agent Maines made her case for her Intelligence unit, asked a few questions, and promptly left. Amanda noted that the meeting lasted exactly fifteen minutes. Agent Maines' arguments were quite good, though, and Amanda might have actually gone into Intelligence if not for the real reason that she had chosen to join the FBI.

Her third meeting was with SA Stephen Mills. Steve, as he had insisted she call him, had obviously done his homework. Organized Crime had experienced major budget cuts in the last few years. It was not as sexy as it used to be, and most of the good agents now went to A-T. He was not above telling her all of that, and she appreciated it. Steve also knew about Amanda's sister Michelle, and what had happened to her. He had guessed that this was the reason that she had changed majors in the middle of her sophomore year at Kent State to criminal justice. Why she had quit the cheerleading squad, moved out of the dorms, and improved her GPA substantially. He correctly guessed (though she was not quite convinced that it really was a guess) that she had stopped partying, dated a lot less, dressed differently, and pretty much devoted her life to studying. He had summed it up in a way that had not occurred to her before, but made complete sense to her now. "None of that happy shit seemed to matter anymore, did it." It was not a question. It was a statement of fact. He knew she went to Quantico with one goal in mind. She wanted Organized Crime. She wanted to put away every fucking son of a whore that did anything remotely like what had happened to Michelle for a living. There was no need to hide it. No need to play the psychological games to prove that she was in this "for the right reasons," whatever the fuck those were. Steve knew the score. And she had the suspicion that he knew that she would join his team before he even walked through the door. He was right.

Now here she was, in a room with three of those same goombah bastard types, about to get on her knees and suck one of them off while the other two watched. Of course, that was not the reason that was given to her for this office visit. In fact no reason was given, but it was no secret among the other dancers. After you worked at the club for a couple of months, if Petey liked what he saw, you got called up to the office to see if you were willing to go "the extra mile." If you were, you might get invited to some of the private parties that he "catered" for the other wise guys. Most of the girls wanted this chance to make some extra money. Of course, Amanda wanted something much more valuable. Information.

She walked over in front of the desk and stood next to the chair. After a few seconds Petey motioned for her to sit, and she did. Her trained eye could not help but assess the two goons on either side of the desk. Vinny and Bobby, Petey's personal body guards stood on either side of the desk like a pair of those cheesy stone lions that people in the suburbs back in Ohio put on either side of their driveway. They were obviously armed, but carried themselves as if they would rather beat the shit out of someone than use a gun. They would not be a problem for her if it came to that, but there was no reason to think that it would.

"So, Melody, how do you like the club so far?" Petey asked in a pleasant, chatty tone. Amanda had chosen Melody as her stage name. She loved the irony of naming her stripper persona after the straight laced, completely un-sexy agent she met in Quantico.

"It's great," she said, matching his tone. "You guys get some pretty big spenders in here; I've made more cash in the last couple of months than I did in twice the time at the last place I worked."

"Good, good, I'm glad you like it," Petey said with a smile. Petey the Asshole was Amanda's name for him, most of the guys called him Petey the Actor. He was a decent enough looking guy, six foot tall, 190 pounds, most of it well placed. He wore his dark hair a bit shorter than most of the guys. To his credit, he also did not go with the slicked back greaseball helmet look that most of the guys, including the steroid twins to either side of him at the moment, did. Petey got his nickname because he had hung around with some Hollywood types when he was younger. Hollywood was always fascinated with organized crime, and some schmuck producer was always looking to make buddy buddy with a real live wise guy. A couple of them actually let him try out for a few parts, but nothing ever happened.

"I been watching you on the floor, you ain't bad." Petey began. "Pretty face, great tits, nice ass, and you know how to shake it. I tink your financial situation could greatly improve here." His accent was pure New York Italian. Not Italy Italian, which she found quite sexy, but that goombah, New York Italian that always reminded her of Joe Pesci. She wondered how much actual Italian he spoke. She, of course, was fluent. Petey kept a dictionary on his desk and would often throw multi-syllable words into his speech. In his mind, that made him sound more intelligent, but in reality, it only made him sound even more ridiculous.

"Thanks." Amanda smiled, giving the impression that she truly enjoyed the compliments about her body, as most strippers would.

"The reason I called you in here is to assess just how well you could do. I am in a position to give you opportunities to make more money. A lot more money...if you are, ah, willin' ta go the extra mile."

And there it was.

"That did't take long." She thought. She leaned forward a bit placed her elbows on the desk, and folded her forearms. The move pushed her 32 C tits together and, coupled with her stripper dress that did a great job of showing off her girls in the first place, gave Petey an unmistakably intentional view of her cleavage. "What did you have in mind?" she asked, with every note of her statement revealing that she knew exactly what he wanted.

Petey pushed his chair back from the desk and gave her another smile. He reached down with his right hand and grabbed his crotch, at the same time spreading his legs wide enough for her to kneel between them. "Oh, I tink you can probly figure sumthin' out."

She glanced briefly at the two goons, silently asking the question that she thought he would expect, but to which she already knew the answer. "Vinnie and Bobby never leave me," he said with an air of importance.

She stood up slowly, reached her right arm up to move her shoulder length blond hair to one side, and deftly undid the clasp of her dress behind her neck with her other hand. She brought her right arm back down to catch the fabric before it completely fell off of her, a move she had performed dozens of times on the floor earlier that night. After a moment, she let her arm fall, and the dress with it, revealing her pair of perfect breasts. She cupped them with her hands and looked at Petey. "You like my tits, Huh?" She said, giving them a little jiggle. "Well you're gonna love this."

She walked around the desk and kneeled in front of him, reaching up to unfasten his belt. She felt a weird sensation in the pit of her stomach. It was part fear, part loathing, but there was something else. The thought of the act she was about to perform came with a certain amount of arousal. Even though she had no feelings of lust for this man what so ever, she could not help but get a little turned on. Maybe it was a purely physical thing, if one only considered aesthetics, Petey was not unattractive. She doubted that was it, though. And she really did not have time to do a deep psychological assessment of her feelings at this point. Whatever the source, she decided that the fact that she was a little turned on by the situation was good for her cover, and she decided to go with it. It would give her something positive on which to focus.

She opened his fly to find that he was already hard. "Oooh," she purred, "is that for me?" She gave his cock a quick squeeze and flashed him a sexy little smirk.

"You know it baby." He said. He lifted his ass off the chair slightly and slid his pants and boxers down past the end of the chair. She got up off of her knees for a moment and stepped back so that he could close his legs. He kicked off his right loafer and she helped him slide his pant leg and boxers off of his right leg. He let them remain in a pile around his left leg. Her efforts to help him with his pants kept her bent at the waist, and she was not completely unaware that she would be presenting quite a little show to Bobby, who was on the right side of Petey's desk. Again, though she found Bobby completely repulsive as a human being, she caught herself wiggling her ass a little more than was necessary. She had to admit that this whole situation stimulated her physically much more than she had anticipated.

Petey was now completely splayed out before her. On his right leg was only a black sock, his left completely dressed, other than the fact that everything was in a pile at his ankle. She noticed that his balls were shaved, and that his cock was slightly above average in size. These two seemingly inconsequential facts gave her more information than one might think. Her psychological training along with the two months of "special training" with Stephanie, the former call girl, told her that the slightly above average member in front of her would give the guy attached to it a certain level of confidence with women, but not quite like that of a guy hung like a porn star. His shaved balls were an obvious sign that he liked to have them licked and sucked, and that he probably liked his blowjobs a little sloppy. This second item was corroborated by the fact that he had a leather desk chair, not a cloth one that would be harder to clean. All of this was taken in and assessed in an instant as she resumed her place on her knees between his legs.

She reached out and began to stroke his member. She looked him in the eye and gave the underside of his cockhead two quick licks. Then she gave him another smirk that any guy in Petey's situation would find incredibly sexy. He, of course, read nothing else into it. For her though, the smirk was because in the back of her mind she was thinking how easy it would be to castrate this son of a bitch with one good chomp. Of course, doing that would blow years of training, months of undercover work, and was almost sure to get her killed. Still, it was fun to think about it.

"Ok," she thought, "this is it. Make it convincing, and good enough that you get into the parties, but not so good that he is going to want to keep you for himself. Don't bring your A game, maybe B minus." And that is exactly what she did. She started by popping his cock head in her mouth and letting a little saliva escape to start to coat his shaft. She wrapped her right hand around his cock and slowly started to work the lubricating saliva around. She could still hear the muffled beat of the music in the club below as she started to work her lips up and down his cock.

Her FBI training had taught her to plan everything, but improvise as required. Naturally she had applied that training to this moment, which she had known for some time to expect. Her plan was to bring him close to ejaculating as quickly as possible. She knew from her training with Stephanie that she could bring almost any guy to that point within three to five minutes if she really put the effort into it, and if the guy was not in a chemically altered state fed by alcohol or some other drug. When she sensed he was close, she would back off and let him settle down for a nice steady blowjob for another seven or so minutes. She would then bring him to completion after about a total of ten to twelve minutes. This timeframe would let him know that she had mad cocksucking skills, but would not unduly embarrass him in front of his fellow wise guys. The music from the club would provide her with a way of monitoring the time without looking at a clock, as she knew that the average song that the club played on the floor was about three and a half minutes long.

She set in on phase one with gusto, pumping her lips up and down his length while working his shaft with her hand just in front of her mouth. She gave a slight twist of her wrist to add extra stimulation near the apex of her stroke. She kept medium high suction on his cock the entire time. She also added in the newly acquired info and let him get nice and wet with her saliva as she pumped him. After about twenty or so strokes, she took him out of her mouth and made eye contact with him, another trick she had learned from Stephanie. She took this time to lick and kiss his head and the underside of his shaft, all the way down to his balls. Then she would loosen her grip and jerk her hand up and down his full wet, sloppy length while tonguing his balls. During these "ball breaks" as Stephanie had liked to call them, she would never break eye contact with him. The effect on all of Amanda and Stephanie's "test subjects" was exactly the same as the effect on Petey now. He was mesmerized by the gorgeous green-eyed beauty working his member and could barely blink let alone tear his gaze away from her. She then worked her way back up his shaft and swallowed him.

She knew that she could not only deep throat a cock of Petey's size and girth with no problem now, but she could also give him "the lizard" if she wanted to. The lizard was a move that Stephanie had taught her where she would cup a guy's balls with her right hand, and then while deep throating him to the root, she could extend her tongue out move it side to side further stimulating his balls. If the guy seemed like he would be into it, she could slide the middle finger of the hand she was using to cup his balls up his ass and stimulate his prostate. If not, as was sure to be the case with the wise guys that Amada would be dealing with, she could alter this slightly by putting slight pressure at the very end of the scrotum, near the guys "taint." Either way, most guys would cum in a matter of seconds. Sticking to her plan though, she did not bring her A game, and left the lizard in its cage. She figured Petey would be more than impressed if she were to deep throat him most of the way. She grabbed the base of his shaft with the first two fingers and thumb of her right hand and took him into her throat until her lips touched her fingers.

"Holy fuck!" Petey exclaimed just as her lips made contact with her fingers for the first time. "Jesus Christ you can suck a dick, girl!" By his tone, she was glad that she had held back, but wondered if she had not gone too far. Surely a guy that had had dozens of strippers suck him off had had someone give him a better blowjob than her B minus moves. She decided not to risk it, and to not bring out any more advanced tricks than she had already revealed. She took him out of her throat and repeated the entire process two more times. At this point, she could tell that everything was going exactly to plan. Judging from the beat coming from downstairs, the first song had just ended and a different one was just beginning. Petey's balls were tightening, and she knew that if she wanted to she could put him over the edge in a few strokes. She looked him in the eye and gave him a knowing smile, then she stopped pumping with her right hand and went back to the two finger grip at the base of his cock. This time, though, she tightened her grip slightly and kept her hand motionless. The effect was like that of a cock ring. It held off the impending orgasm while keeping him rock hard. She bathed his dick with soft, feather light licks until he calmed down some. When she felt it was safe, she began a medium paced rhythm, sliding him about half way into her mouth and then back out again until the ridge of his head barely escaped the tight confines of her warm, wet, pouty lips. After a few minutes of this, she loosened the grip on the base of his shaft slightly, but did not resume pumping with her hand. She knew she was having the desired effect on him when she felt him reach back and grab a loose handful of her hair. She let him guide her mouth up and down his dick, knowing that she was giving him a feeling of control. Guys like Petey the Asshole always lusted after control in everything they did. She let him have it. For now.

By the time the second song ended, Petey was giving out soft moans and muttering phrases like, "That's it, suck that cock," and "yeah baby, that's right, let me fuck that pretty mouth," on a fairly regular basis. In her planning stages, she had figured that by this time she would be anxious to get this whole thing over with, but found herself not quite ready to finish him off yet. Could it be that she was enjoying this? When that question formed consciously in her mind, she answered herself with an emphatic "Fuck no!" and set about phase three of the blowjob with renewed vigor. She had planned on whipping out a few new techniques for phase three, but decided to just go back to what she had done at the beginning. She did not want to increase the chance that Petey would want a repeat performance. She also did not care to impress Vinny and Bobby more than she already had. It was true that they always stuck close to Petey, but what he sad about them never leaving his side was not one hundred percent true. She knew that if they wanted to, they could find some time to persuade her to give them firsthand knowledge of her cocksucking skills, and she had heard from other dancers that they often did just that.

After the second round of pumping, sucking, licking, kissing, ball stimulation, and deep throating, she could fell him start to tense again. This time she did not let off. She wrapped her lips around his cock just below the crown of his head and built up mild suction. Her right hand was a blur as she worked it furiously from his root to her mouth. Every few seconds, she would move her elbow closer to or further away from her body, changing the angle of her grip on his cock. The purpose of this was to not let the stimulation continue in one place too long. The constant minor changes in angle heightened his pleasure incrementally until he could hold off no more.