tagNovels and NovellasWhy I Hated The Guy From The FBI

Why I Hated The Guy From The FBI

byProlonged_Debut10©

a. Everything in this story is, completely, fictional. No person, place, ethnic group, or agency in this story, is meant to embarrassed, or implicated in any wrongdoing. Please view this story, in that context.

b. If you are looking for sex in every sentence, and paragraph, do not bother reading the story. This is a story that includes erotic sexual scenes in many places. If you read my previous story, "Having Fun with Dycke and Payne", you realize that a story that leads to sex, can be more titillating, then having an opening line that starts with afour letter word. This story will have very little sex. I will make it as titillating and erotic as possible, however the way I have this story laid out so far, "The Story Is My Obsession!"

1. An introduction to 'Family' life.

Antonia Josephine Caruso, and had just arrived home, after graduating, second in her class, from The Immaculate Conception Women's Academy, in Plattsburg, New York. She was a virgin and very naïve, when it came to the mysteries of sex, at the age of eighteen. Her father had sent her to this nunnery, from the age of six, to be schooled, and to be kept away from immoral influences. It was not as bad as you might think, because she had all the modern conveniences: a wooden cross over her single bed, a statue of the Virgin Mary on her night table, a bible, and a bench to kneel on, so you could pray in your off hours. However, in class, they did have computers, an up to date laboratory, for science experiments, and an excellent language arts department. She could now pray fluently in Latin, French, Italian, and English.

Her younger brother is Anthony Vincent Caruso. I would wager at this point, you could guess their father's name is Anthony. Anthony Joseph Caruso VI. Thankfully, he did not continue using the same name middle name for his son. Everyone calls him 'Vincent or Vinny,' so our father, and he do not answer to the same call.

Vincent is in his senior year of high school, also, due to the vagaries of school admission policies on birth dates, and the church knowing our father, extremely well.

My father had different rules for Vincent, than he had for me, because Vincent is a 'man.' He is allowed to screw anything in a skirt, except me, of course, as long as he does not get the girl pregnant. My mother has no say in this matter. Vincent could bring a girl home, in the middle of the school day, have sex with her, and then return to school, without any repercussions. My mother would even make them lunch, after they were finished. Then, she would go to his room and change his linens.

My school year ended, one month before Vincent's this year, because I was exempted from taking final exams. On several occasions, I could hear the screams, vulgar words, and cries of passion coming from his room. I found my hands traveling to places, they had never gone before, and I was leaking fluids from my vagina. I was going to ask my mother about this, but I feared she might tell my father about these questions, so I did not ask them.

I was given a new, laptop computer, so I could continue my studies, over the summer, before beginning college. I was, also, given a cell phone, which I found out had a GPS locator in it, so my father could constantly keep track of me. After reading the manual, I found out I could use the phone to send real-time images to my computer. I decided to use the phone, to see what sex looked like, in the flesh.

Every day I would sneak into Vincent's room, and place my cell phone in an area that faced his bed. If he brought a girl home, I would have a ringside seat, and learn, firsthand, about the intricacies of sex.

Less than one week later, it happened. Vincent brought this gorgeous, girl home. Her olive skin and black hair were stunning, and her body was amazing. She was statuesque, without the oversized chest, or wide hips. She was perfectly proportioned, and as Vincent undressed her completely, she did not have a flaw on her body.

Vincent kissed her from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. His hands and mouth paid special attention to her breasts, paying homage to them. After a while, he moved his body down, kissing her ribs, her stomach, and her abdomen. He played with the curls of her hair above her pubic bone and his mouth played at the area between her thighs and vagina. Then she screamed!

Vincent's mouth had moved from her thigh to her vagina and his tongue was between her vaginal lips; licking her from top to bottom. His thumb seemed to have found something that had her writhing in pleasure, because pain never looked like this. Her hips lifted up, off the bed. She pressed her vagina up towards his tongue and fingers, as if she was begging for more. After a minute, or what I thought was a minute, her body went rigid, she screamed, again, and her body went slack. I wondered if she had fainted.

Vincent got out of the bed, with a big smile on his face. He went to his dresser and pulled out two towels, and return to the beautiful young woman. He gently wiped the sweat from her body and cleaned the liquid from between her thighs, never once touching the area between her legs. He climbed back into bed with her, and pressed his body against hers. Initially, I thought it was an attempt to keep her warm, until I saw his hand move down her body, and enter her vagina and he started moving his fingers in and out of it.

The girl's hips began to move, following his fingers. Her eyes opened, looked into his face, and smiled. Vincent kissed her passionately, and moved his body between her thighs. His penis was very big and I wondered how it would ever fit into such a small space. He pushed her thighs wider and continued to kiss the girl, while he took aim at her opening. As soon as the head of his penis was inside of her, I saw her react by pulling her hips backward. Vincent talked to her for a moment, and then reinserted the tip of his penis. He started moving back and forth, using only the first inch or so, until she became comfortable with the intrusion.

She looked up at him, and nodded her head; Vincent increased his speed but not his depth. The young woman smiled and seemed to enjoy what he was doing, until Vincent powered his hips forward, until his pubic bone met hers.

She screamed, violently, and I could see tears coming from her eyes. Vincent stopped moving. He kissed her face, held her tightly, and said something to her that I could not hear. After a time, she moved her hands back to his shoulders, and Vincent started to move his hips in and out of her very slowly. She still seemed to be in some pain, but not as much as she was before. Vincent started playing with her breasts, and biting playfully at her ears. I could see her hips start to move in rhythm with his. Whatever the problem was before, it was gone now. She was enjoying what Vinnie was doing, and was encouraging him to move faster.

It was very evident that he had done this many times before, because the young woman cried out in ecstasy, not once or twice but three times before Vincent stiffened and poured his essence inside the young woman, and she swooned, again. When he was finished, he rolled away from her, and picked up the second towel. He began cleaning up the area between her thighs. I was amazed to see that she had bled so profusely, because of what he had done to her. I had to find out for myself, why this had happened. Was this normal, and did it occur every time two people had intercourse? The act itself was beautiful to behold, and the way the young woman reacted during the procedure excited me. However, the initial pain, and the thought of bleeding every time I would do that, worried me.

I saved what I saw on a password-protected file. After Vincent and his girlfriend left, I retrieved my cell phone from his room, which had a very intense odor in it, and recharged it. I changed my wet underwear, which had a funny smell emanating from them, also. Then I place them with my other laundry, which I would do myself, later.

That evening, when my father got home, he was angry as hell with me, and wanted to know where I had been all day.

"Dad, I was in my room studying all day. I never left the house."

In his bellowing voice, he called out, "Rose, come here."

"What is the problem now, Anthony?"

"Did Antonia leave the house today?"

"No Anthony, she was in her room all day studying. I had to go up to her room, and force her to come down for lunch."

"Why didn't you answer your cell phone, Antonia?"

I looked at him as if he were crazy and said, "Dad, I was at home. I had the phone turned off."

"Oh, right. Okay, we will forget about it."

"Forget about what, dad. I do not have any friends here. I do not have a car. If I try to leave the house, one of your people stop me. What did you think I was going to do, and where did you think I could go?"

"I am not worried about what you are doing. I am worried about what someone might do to you."

"You mean have some fun, like Vincent does in his bedroom. Go to a movie so I can see what is happening in the twenty first century. Do you realize, I am eighteen years old, and I have not been inside a movie theater? I had to watch a movie on my 19-inch monitor last night. I bet 'Titanic' would have been amazing on a big screen."

"Vincent is a man, and that makes him different. If you want to watch movies, I will buy you a giant-screen television."

"What about the girls Vincent brings home? They are just like me, and he is taking advantage of them."

"They are tramps. Anyone who would do that, before marriage, deserves what they get."

"What is going to happen, when I go to college this fall, dad? Are you going to have armed guards around me, twenty-four hours a day?"

"You are going to college in Italy, under the protection of our family, in Novaro. The University of Milan is an excellent school, and you can take whatever courses you want there."

"I had a feeling you were going to do something like that to me. Just remember, that the Swiss border is just north of Milan. From there, I can disappear to any place in the world."

"Antonia, I am looking out for your well-being. Do not do anything foolish. Many people do not like me, and they can get back at me, by hurting you."

"Vincent runs around like a bull, in a field of cows. You want me to remain a virgin, until you can marry me off to a 'family' member and form an alliance. I will not do that, dad. I will not be a good wife, like mom. I will not put up with a man, who leaves the house, does not tell me where he is going, and when he is coming back. I will not be insulted by knowing looks from women that my husband is screwing, behind my back. It is not going to happen to me. Whether it is here, or in Italy, I will screw the first man available and ruin your precious plan, to keep me a virgin."

"Antonia, there are doctors now, that can put that little piece of flesh back where it belongs. It is painful to lose your virginity the first time. It is painful to have it replaced, and it is painful to lose it the second time. Be careful what you wish for, because you may just get it."

"Thank you, dad, for that information. I can have sex, just like Vincent, before you try to marry me off to some goon of your choice."

My father had never hit me before, probably because I was away at school, most of the time. I think the thing that shocked, both him and me, as I lie on the floor, was that I did not cry. I just looked up at him, and asked, "Do you feel better now, dad?"

After I said that, my mother got between us and told my father to go into the kitchen and get a drink. I believe those with the most forceful words I had ever heard my mother speak to my father. She helped me up, looked at my face, which was developing a huge handprint, and told me to go to my room. She said she would be there in a moment, with some ice.

True to her word, my mother walked into my room with an ice pack, and a glass of wine. I had never had an alcoholic beverage, so I looked at her and asked, "Is the wine for me or for you?"

My mom said, "Do not be funny, Toni. I thought I was going to have to take you to the dentist and have half your teeth put back in your mouth."

"No, mom, my teeth are fine. However, my face does feel like it is on fire."

"Drink some wine, Toni; it is for the pain you will be in soon. Then lie down, and let me put this ice pack on your face, so you do not turn black and blue."

"I am alright, mom, but the ice will feel good."

"I do not understand how you did not cry out, after he hit you. I would have, and I think Vincent would have. What he gave you was not a love tap. He gave you his best shot. He was trying to make a point with you, and now he thinks he failed. He is going to brood over this, for days."

"You can thank the "Sisters of the Good Shepherd" for that mom. They taught me every day, never to let anyone see what you are thinking or feeling. They are taken advantage of by priests, bishops, cardinals, and the Pope. They bear it in silence, until they are back in their home. Only then, when in the presence of their 'Mother Superior', and their fellow sisters, do they vent their anger and frustration, at the stupidity of men. I have watched it, and been a part of it, for twelve years. You give a priest ten dollars and it will be gone in a few days. You give a nun ten dollars on Monday, and she will have twenty, by Friday. They are the best teachers and the most caring women you will ever meet. It does not matter what religion you are; if you are in need, they will not turn you away, ever."

"Is my daughter going to become a nun?"

"I am definitely not becoming a nun. They work too hard, for too little money, and their bosses have their brains between their legs. They are pedophiles, or they are protecting pedophiles or they are saying there are no pedophiles in the Catholic Church. I do not know if I even want to remain a catholic."

"Do not let your father hear you say that out loud, he will break every bone in your body."

"Mom that is exactly what I mean. Men like him, and you know what I mean, pay a gratuity to the church, before they die, so they can be buried in a Catholic cemetery. It is bribery. God does not take bribes, the Catholic Church does. If you live a good life, your reward is heaven. If you live a bad life, you go to hell. Regardless of how much money you pay the church to let you be buried in consecrated ground, you still go straight to hell. I do not know if I want to be a part of a religion that turns a blind eye, to the kinds of things that dad, and the people he is associated with do. As long as the bishops and cardinals can count on them to put large amounts of cash into the basket, or fix a church roof, or buy something for their hospitals, absolution is given. It does not wipe the slate clean, mom. It is not right. God does not work that way."

"Antonia, the faster I get you away from your father, the safer you are going to be. If he hears anything, you just said, you are going to be another stain on his soul. Nothing can keep him from going to hell, for what he has done already. Do not allow him to add you to that list of sins. It would kill me."

I hugged my mother and said, "Mom, I promise you that I will keep my tongue quiet, while he is in this house."

2. LISTENING IN.

Three houses down, from the Caruso's, lived Philip and Gloria Gennaro. They had lived in the same house for thirty-two years and knew everyone on their street by name. Phil was a member of the Plumbers Union, and was well respected, both at home and at work. His son, Frank, was serving in the U.S. Marines, and was stationed in Iraq, when his family received notice that he had been severely wounded. He would be returning home, in four to six months, depending on how long his body took to heal after his operations, in Germany.

Word of this event spread, around the block like wildfire. Anthony Caruso walked down to Phil's house to ask if there was anything, he could do for Frank, when he got home.

"Thank you, Anthony, but right now I do not know how badly Frank is injured. I know that it is his leg, but I do not know exactly what his disability is going to be. However, when I find out, if the offer is still open, I will have him stop by your house to talk to you."

"My door will always be open for your son, Phil. He has paid dearly to make our lives easier. I will not forget that or him."

"Thank you, Anthony."

Five months later, Sergeant Frank Gennaro was dropped off in front of his house by a military vehicle. He limped up the stairs, knocked on the front door of the family home, and into the embrace of his mother.

"Mom, they did not kill me, but you just might."

"If you called more often, or even learned how to write letters more often, I would not have to make sure you are really my son, and you are still alive."

"Mom, if you learned how to use a computer, we could e-mail each other, and see each other any time we wanted?"

"You will not start that with me, again, Frank. The last time you talked me into it, my phone bill was thirteen hundred dollars. Your father nearly killed me."

Frank laughed at his mother, and asked her if he was allowed to come inside the house, because they were still standing at the threshold.

As he entered the house, the old smell and feel of it wrapped around him. It was like an old baseball glove. You put it on and you knew it was yours. Technically, this house would be his, also. His parents had worked it out with a financial planner that it would turn over to Frank, at the time of his father's retirement, because the mortgage was already paid off. In this neighborhood, the houses had appreciated nearly 20 times their original value, and no one in his right mind ever moved. He put his duffel bag into his old room, which he realized needed some serious updating and went back downstairs. His mother put a plate of food in front of him, before he even asked. It was just like old times.

At six o'clock, his father walked in, and inspected Frank from head to toe. He said, "Nothing seems to be missing?"

Frank said, "Dad, let's just say I will never be able to walk through an airport metal detector again, without being challenged."

"Are they allowing you to stay in Frank, or are they discharging you?"

"I am out, dad; full disability, because of the metal fragments by my spine. If I move the wrong way, or they decide to move, I could be in a chair."

Frank hated lying to his parents, but this was the cover story, the FBI had set up for him. They had even done the appropriate cutting on his body, and inserted metal clips, so if anyone looked, or scanned his body, they would see scars where the wounds were. He had been in training at Quantico, Virginia for over a year, for this assignment. He was handpicked for it. His Italian speaking skills had been brought up to an acceptable standard, not fluent, because that would have been suspicious. He could speak haltingly, but he would understand everything that was being said around him. His hand-to-hand combat skills were excellent, and he was an expert with short, intermediate, and long-range weapons. He was stealthy and could run like the wind. However, what impressed his handlers the most was his ability to improvise his way into, or out of any situation, better than anyone they had ever tested.

Phil Gennaro told his son about the offer made by Anthony Caruso. Frank was surprised by this invitation, but it also made his job easier. He was to become a fixture in the community, and what better way to start that job, then at the top, with a meeting with the 'Don'. He asked his father if he should call or just walk down there and say 'hello.'

His father told him to go down to Anthony's home, in his uniform, and say "Hello."

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