The Best Erotic Stories.

In Her Father's Footsteps Pt. 2 of 14
Erotic Adventures of Sexy British Super-Spy Jane Bond
by Latina
  

Returning home after her first day on her first assignment with British Intelligence, to find and stop notorious arms merchant W before he could broker his next deal, Jane Bond sat down in front of her home computer terminal. Miss Moneypenny had given her the access codes to dial into "The Agency's" extensive database from her home computer.

But where to start?

Jane leaned back in her swiveling arm chair, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her tight, navy-blue blazer, to get more comfortable. She remembered how, even at age 80, the roving eyes of her new boss M had given her the once-over in his office. If M could see her now, what would he think, the opened two buttons making it obvious that she had absolutely nothing on under that blazer?

She thought back to her earlier conversation with M, about W. Her well-trained memory had tape recorded everything they had both said, and now she mentally rewound to the beginning and replayed every word. She pushed her mental pause button when she reached the point where M had told her "Sometimes, we think he must have graduated from our academy, because he always enters--"

She had finished, "unobtrusively, gets the job done quietly, and leaves without anyone knowing he was ever there?"

Hmm, what if W was, like her, a graduate of The Academy, but had chosen to use his knowledge of British Intelligence against, rather than for, the good of the Crown?

M had told Jane that W's arms sales to terrorists had first become noticed 10 years ago. That put him at about the Class of 1988, or maybe a year or two earlier. She entered a database query to list all British Spy Academy graduates whose last name started with W, and just to be sure that she went back far enough, she asked for all male W's who graduated between 1980 and 1988. When the list came back, she realized that she had never before thought about how many English surnames start with W. The list seemed endless: Walker, Wallace, Washington, Watson, Weaver, Weber, Webster, Wentworth, Whitworth, Wickham, Williams, Wilson, and so on, all the way through Wyndham. How was she to ever figure out which one, if any of them, was the elusive and mysterious W?

Then she remembered something else. That old fossil M had preferred to call her Ms. Bond, instead of the more- familiar Jane. But her own generation did not stand on such ceremony, and everyone called everyone else by their FIRST name. Since the photos of W made him look to be in his Thirties, certainly no older than 40, he would likely have used his first name, not his last, in selecting to be called by the initial W.

Back to the computer, and a new database search. Jane asked The Agency's computer to show her all 1980 to 1988 Academy graduates, male, whose FIRST names started with W. Depressingly, the list was nearly as long: Waldo, Wallace, Walter, Warren, Wayne, Webster, William, Winston, and on and on.

Then one name caught her eye: William Washington Walker, class of 1987. All three names started with W. His two specialties at The Academy had been Weapons and Warfare: two more W's, and certainly good training for becoming a terrorist arms merchant. He claimed to be from Wallingford, and once worked for the reigning Windsors. Gee, this guy sure liked words with W in them. But could he be the W that she sought?

She decided to look through his Academy records. William Washington Walker had graduated with honors in 1987, but before he could be recruited into Her Majesty's Secret Service, Walker had dropped out of sight. Had he resurfaced a year later, she wondered, as W, and began selling weapons to terrorists?

The search of Walker's records produced another curious fact. The Academy's registrar noted that he had been unable to confirm anyone named William Washington Walker ever having lived in Wallingford. The Windsors had never hired a servant by that name. In fact, NONE of his personal references had checked out. But by the time the Academy had finished checking his references, Walker, or whatever his name really was, had proven himself such an apt student of spying, weaponry, and warfare, that The Academy (and by inference, the Agency) did not want to lose him on the mere technicality of an inadequate background check. Walker's records noted that M himself had been disappointed when Walker could not be found and recruited after his graduation.

That part seemed curious to Jane. How was it that British Intelligence had never been able to track down one of their own students, to recruit him into The Service? But then she remembered her conversation with M, about how her father, the legendary James Bond, possessed all the stealth of a rampaging elephant. Had her father, he wondered, been assigned to find and recruit Walker? Had the great James Bond, as usual, gotten involved in so many highly-visible car chases and explosions, that Walker saw him coming from miles away, and easily eluded her famous father? "Well, Walker," she thought to herself, "if you ARE indeed W, this is one Bond you won't escape from!"

She phrased yet another database inquiry. This time, she wanted a photo of this mysterious William Washington Walker, as he looked around the time of graduation. After the usual delay for her modem to talk to the Agency's modem, a photo began to emerge, pixel by pixel, on her home computer's monitor.

"All right," she calculated, "this photo was taken about 11 years ago." She loaded the image into her computer's photo- enhancement program. Then she typed instructions for the program to age the subject of the photo about 11 years. She looked at the photos M had given her, showing arms dealer W. "OK," she said, "let's put in a receding hairline." A few keystrokes later, and presto, William Wallace had lost a fair amount of hair. "Oh, and a thin, debonair moustache." More keystrokes, and the image on her screen changed again. She blinked in disbelief. She taped M's photo of W to the side of her computer screen, and her eyes switched from the computer-aged image of Walker, to the identical face in M's photo of W, and back again. No doubt about it, Walker was W, and W was Walker.

"Yee-ha!" Jane shouted, obviously having seen one too many old Hollywood western movies on late-night television lately.

Hearing her yell, and fearing his bride of two years had hurt herself, Brad came running from the kitchen, a half- assembled sandwich still clutched in his hands.

"Are you OK, honey?" Brad asked, solicitously, absent- mindedly setting his sandwich down on her computer desk. He stood behind her chair, and leaned his head over her shoulder, glancing at the computer screen.

"Yee-ha!" Jane repeated, practically screaming in his ear.

Clamping his hands tightly over his ears, Brad asked, "What is it, darling?"

"Yee-ha! I found my man!"

Misunderstanding, as men (and especially male spies) so often seem to do, Brad whispered, "Yes, you did, honey, and I'm right here, and I love you, too." She didn't mind his misunderstanding, however, as Brad's words were accompanied by a gentle massage on her aching shoulders, and soft kisses on the back and sides of her sore neck. Next, both of his hands moved down from rubbing and squeezing her shoulders, slid inside the open buttons of her blazer, and cupped her very-accessible 36-C breasts, which pressed hard against the tight fabric of her blazer. She could feel the strength in his well-developed arms. All of his muscles were well-toned, but not bulging like a body builder's. Well, she smiled to herself, maybe he did have ONE muscle that really bulged!

The index and middle fingers of both of his hands began squeezing and pinching both of her nipples, and as her nipples stiffened with pleasure, she couldn't help responding to his warm attention by letting out a soft, low, contented "Mmmm!" She craned her neck over her left shoulder, wrapped both arms around his neck, pulled his mouth down onto hers, and planted a passionate kiss firmly on his tender lips.

Jane swiveled her computer-desk chair around, to face Brad. With both of her arms still wrapped around his neck, and their lips still tightly pressed against each other, Jane stood up. Brad now wrapped his arms around Jane's back, pulling her even closer against him. He ran his hands down her back, until both of his hands were cupping her ass cheeks through her navy-blue skirt. He could not feel any panties. Looking down at the exposed part of her legs, below the knees, Brad could see Jane's beautiful, naturally- dark skin, telling him that his Latina beauty had no stockings on. His hands moved down to the hem of her skirt, and pushed the hem up. He returned to cupping her ass cheeks, this time with his hands under her skirt. Both of Brad's hands touched nothing but bare skin now, confirming his earlier suspicion that Jane was not wearing panties.

From cupping Jane's ass cheeks, Brad slid his fingers under her, and forward toward her inner thighs. After two years of marriage, she instinctively knew what that signal meant, and she shifted to stand with her legs spread wider apart. Brad now snaked his fingers even further forward under her, until his fingers reached around from her shapely ass at the rear, to her irresistible mound at the front. His long, thin, middle finger now began to slowly find its way inside of her pussy. As his finger slid deeper into her, her pussy lips automatically spread themselves wider open. As his finger slowly, lazily slid in and out of her innermost regions, she began to breath more heavily, and her purring "Mmmm!" sounds became more frequent, and began to be interspersed more frequently with moans as well.

Leaving one finger gliding in and out of her dampening pussy, Brad used his other hand to unbutton the rest of the buttons on Jane's tight blazer. The two top buttons that Jane had opened revealed a lot of cleavage, leading Brad to suspect that she wore no blouse or bra underneath. When Brad unbuttoned the final button, and the blazer fell wide open, Brad's suspicions were once more confirmed. Now he grabbed the narrow lapels of her blazer, and slid it off of her shoulders. Jane removed her arms from around Brad's neck just long enough for him to slide the sleeves of her blazer off of her arms. She then resumed wrapping her arms around Brad, pulling him close, and kissing him with all the fiery passion that had not dimmed in the least, since their wildly-passionate wedding night nearly two years earlier.

Now Brad pushed Jane away about a foot, leaned over her, and planted a kiss on the front of Jane's neck. His kisses grew harder and more passionate, and now he started trailing his kisses down her torso, into her cleavage, then across to kiss her nipples and her wide areolas. His tongue darted out and flicked at her nipples, then his lips closed around a nipple and his teeth began gently nibbling on first one nipple, then the other. Brad kissed and licked all around the bottom rims of Jane's breasts, then continued kissing down her tummy, over her belly button, and all over the thick, neatly-groomed patch of dark hair above her sweet pussy, whose excited taste he now so desperately craved. Now it was Jane's turn to step back, and she ran her hands over the front of his zipper. She felt his manhood pulse against her hand through the fabric of his jeans, and after a few minutes of her rubbing and his throbbing, she hungered to see, feel, and taste his magnificently-sculpted cock. Along the outside of his jeans, her index and middle finger walked like a pair of miniature legs, up along the full length of his bulge, from his balls to the swollen head, before reaching the top of his zipper. Grasping the zipper with her thumb and middle finger, she slowly pulled the zipper down, swaying her hips in hula fashion and bending her knees, sinking lower toward the floor, in a sexy update of the Twist, as his zipper glided downward. Finally, Jane knelt completely on her knees before Brad, his zipper was wide open, and she wrestled his jeans down to his ankles.

As she knelt facing Brad, who was still standing, Jane's mouth was level with Brad's big, excited cock. Freed from the confinement of his jeans, it was pulsing madly up into the air, then straight out toward her again. Clutching his ass cheeks in both of her palms, and pulling him toward her, she couldn't resist giving his cock head a very fleeting, teasing kiss. When he moaned and squirmed at her soft kiss there, Jane decided that it wasn't nice of her to tease him, and she moved her lips to his balls, kissing both balls all over. Now she opened her mouth and let her tongue slide out all the way, to very slowly lick her way up the sensitive underside of his shaft. As Jane licked her way slowly up Brad's pulsing eight-inch shaft, she also swirled her tongue all the way around his three-inch circumference, so that her tongue moved up his cock in a slow spiral motion, like an old-fashioned clock spring slowly unwinding itself. When her tongue reached the wide- awake eye at the very tip of his engorged cock, she opened her lips around the head, and let just his very tip in past her lips. Making sure that her lips closed tightly in an O around his stiff rod, she slowly sucked him up past her lips and teeth, her tongue still swirling around him INSIDE of her mouth.

Meanwhile, Brad's long middle finger was sliding faster and faster in and out of Jane's hungry pussy, seeming to push its way deeper into her with each stroke. Her moans were getting louder all the time. If "The Agency" had bugged her home, as she heard that they do with all of their agents, she was certain that someone (maybe even M himself) was getting a real thrill right now, listening to her and Brad go at it like crazed beasts.

Soon, she had sucked his full eight inches down her throat, and Brad's balls rested against Jane's O-shaped lips, his cock completely invisible from being fully engulfed inside her mouth. She hoped that he would come soon, before her jaw became too sore. Her knees were already getting sore from knelling on their hardwood floor.

As Jane's tongue continued to swirl around his buried cock, Brad continued to run his long finger in and out of her pussy, which was already all slicked-up with lust just for him. Her moans could now be heard all up and down the block. Now he moved his thumb to rub over her swollen clit, and after a few minutes of his rubbing, she thrust her waist forward, then backward again, and she came forcefully all over his invading finger and her own mocha-cream colored thighs. As she came, she let out an ear-piercing scream of fulfilled lust: "Yyyyeeee-hhhhaaahhhhh!" As she screamed, she gulped and swallowed hard, gasping for air to calm her down, all of which caused very pleasant vibrating sensations all over the sensitive skin of Brad's cock, still shoved deeply down Jane's throat.

The combination of her passionate scream, her tongue swirling around his cock, and feeling the back of her throat pressing against his cock head, was all that Brad could take. His cock throbbed and thrust forcefully upward against the roof of her mouth, then fell back down with a nearly-audible thud against the top of her tongue. Bucking his hips forward into her face, he emptied gush after gush of his passion juice onto her still-swirling tongue. His warm, sweet, slight-salty ooze glided down her parched throat, which had thirsted to be quenched by the kind of juice that only Brad could serve to her, and which he was indeed pumping into her in full volume right now.

By now, Jane had forgotten all about her computer, and her first break in her search for arms merchant W. Similarly, Brad had forgotten about the half-assembled, uneaten sandwich he had absently placed on Jane's desk. All either of them could think of now, was getting to their bed as quickly as possible, to continue their foreplay in more comfortable surroundings, and to build their way up to the "main event."

Lying on the bed, Jane turned to Brad and said, "I just found my first lead in my first assignment."

Brad smiled at her, cupped her head in his hands, kissed her, and said "Congratulations."

Jane's lips pouted in mock irritation. "That's it? Just `congratulations'? You aren't going to help me celebrate?"

"Of course I am, darling," Brad replied. With that, Brad slid his long, lean body down toward the foot of their bed. His friction against the bed sheet made his already-stiff rod grow even bigger, and throb even more rapidly. When he reached the foot of their bed, he stopped to admire Jane's feet. Since she was only 5 feet 2, she had delicate little feet. Her well-pedicured toenails were painted a bright, inviting red. He began kissing her feet, and Jane surprised him by saying "Honey, please don't."

"Why not?"

"Starting your kisses at my feet takes too long. I need to feel your kisses and licks directly on my pussy, right NOW!"

He grabbed an ankle in each hand, and pushed her legs toward her, raising both of her knees high into the air. He then pulled her ankles wide apart, spreading her legs and allowing him to look up past her thighs, peer past her already-opened dark brown outer pussy lips, and gaze up into the fully-visible pink depths of her femininity.

But Brad wanted to do more than just look. So he moved his head slowly up the inside of Jane's legs, kissing his way up her calves, past her knees, up her inner thighs, onto her pussy lips, and finally kissing and licking inside her pussy. As he licked deep inside of her, he felt her lubrication build up, to coat both her inner walls and the tip of his slow, teasing, licking and circling tongue.

"Mmmm!" was Jane's only comment, spoken very loudly.

Now his tongue began long, sweeping arcs from her inner walls, retreating back out along her pussy lips, up to her swelling clit, then licking back down and into her innermost recesses again.

"Mmmm!" her moans grew longer and louder, then turned into a single shouted word: "Mmmmmore!"

As he continued his long, sweeping licks, Jane began to bounce her tight, curvy ass cheeks up and down off the mattress and closer into his face. Brad cupped an ass cheek in one hand, and palmed the outside of her pussy in the other, not missing a beat in his long, slow licks. This whole time, Jane kept encouraging his long, sweeping licks, from her inner depths to her clit, with loud cries of "Mmmmmore!"

Suddenly, Brad saw Jane's whole body tense, becoming very rigid. She thrust her hips and thighs up even higher off the bed, pushing closer into his face. Then, suddenly, she was very still, and he felt the first taste of her sweet nectar on the tip of his tongue.

In response, Brad sucked her hot, throbbing love button all the way up past his lips, gently but firmly clenching his teeth over it. Now she began bucking rapidly and violently up and down, and it was all Brad could do to hold onto her ass and her pussy as Jane shook, trembled, quaked, writhed, and flooded his mouth and throat with a non-stop torrent of the sweetest juice known to humanity. He couldn't get enough of her natural flavor on his hungry taste buds. Fortunately, Jane gave him a plentiful supply, accompanied by a wonderfully-melodic soprano chorus of moans and screams. He continued licking, she continued coming, and she just kept mumbling over and over, "Oh, Brad! You've got her honey! You've got her! Oh, Brad!"

When Jane finally stopped shaking, moaning, calling out Brad's name, and mumbling `You've got her', Brad's tongue had finally gotten enough Latina love juice to calm his craving, at least for a while. He looked up her body, past her shapely 36-C breasts, to see a beaming smile on her face.

"Oh, Brad, she's your baby! My pussy is your baby! She's all your, only yours!"

Jane paused to catch her breath, then continued, "Is he her daddy? Is your cock, my pussy's daddy? She wants her daddy. She wants to feel her daddy. Will you let her daddy come inside and play with your baby?"

Scooting up on the bed, Brad's cock felt the cool sheet rubbing against his hot shaft again, helping to keep "daddy" all big and hard for his impending entry and descent into "baby."

Now the tip of daddy pressed past baby's wide-open lips, and began its slow, inch by inch thrust into her. She couldn't help smiling now, not only at feeling him start his descent into her, but also at the recollection of the first time that she had seen Brad's love tool. She had fallen in love with Brad for his intelligence, his ability to be a good provider, his understanding that her career was very important to her, and the fun, creative, unusual places and activities around which he built their dates. The fact that he was good looking--not a stereotypical hunk, but pleasant to look at--was not the main attraction, but it was clearly a nice icing on the cake to Jane.

Jane and Brad had just concluded their third date, and after a lot of kissing and stroking each other, she had stood facing him, loosened and removed his neck tie, and slowly unbuttoned his formal white shirt. She had then noticed that he had a nice, muscular chest, with just the right amount of chest hair, just the way she liked her man: enough chest hair to run her fingers through it, but not so much as to obscure her seeing and touching the soft, smooth skin underneath. Her heart had raced and pounded, her mouth had watered, and her tongue had slowly licked her lips in anticipation, as she had slowly unbuckled his belt and slid the zipper of his suit pants down that first time. When she finally had him naked and had looked at him, her mouth had gasped open in astonishment. His love muscle was long and thick, very hard from the muscle and bone inside, but her eager hands and licking tongue had quickly discovered that his shaft had very soft and smooth skin on the outside. She had stealthily retrieved her sewing kit's tape-measure from the nearby night-stand, so stealthily that Brad had not noticed until the soft fabric of her tape measure was actually touching the sensitive skin of his cock.

When she had read the tape measure, Jane's mouth had once more dropped open in astonishment. From the point where his cock began protruding straight out from his balls, until it ended in the wide-open single eye at the very tip, his wonder worm was a full eight inches long, two inches longer than the only other trouser snake she had ever seen up- close and personal. But even more astonishing to her, when she had wrapped the tape measure around his circumference, it had been a very thick 6-1/2 inches around (over 2 inches in diameter).

Noticing that her mouth had opened wide in astonishment, Jane had decided to put her opened mouth to better use than merely gasping in astonishment. Whispering the six most powerful and magical words in any woman's vocabulary -- "I want to suck your cock" -- Jane had then pushed Brad down on the floor, knelt over him, bent her head down, and let him thrust his hips up and down, driving his long, thick rod rapidly in and out of her eager mouth. His bucking hips had pushed the mushroom-shaped head against the back of her throat, and his balls against her lips, before pulling out again to leave only the very tip against her lips. She had then kissed and licked the opening at the tip of his cock's head. He had then thrust himself all the way back down her throat again. She remembered the sweet but tangy taste as a few drops of his juice had hit her tongue, but before she could gulp down his delicious spunk, he had retreated past her teeth and lips.

Jane had feared that a love muscle this long and wide might hurt her tight little pussy, but that day, Brad had proved himself to be gentle and very skillful with his weapon. Now she knew what people meant about it not being the size that matters, but how you use it. She felt truly blessed, having a man with both the size, AND the skill to use it. Very quickly, his deep, rapid thrusts had made her feel so good that she had let herself go, coating his coat with her come and triggering his own wonderful, warm, wet explosion deep inside of her.

Now here she was, her first day on her first case of her first new job after graduation, once more feeling Brad thrust deeply and rapidly in and out of her, her pussy not only no longer fearing his size, but constantly craving it. She could feel her outer lips stretched wide in an O around him, her pussy muscles clamping down tightly on him, as he thrust furiously in and out of her. She knew that he would come soon, and they both knew that they always enjoyed their orgasms more if she came first.

As if to ensure that she would have her orgasm first, Jane began to slide her hand down to her thighs, and across to touch and play with her clit. Brad and Jane were so much in tune with each other, that he beat her to it, reaching down and rubbing his thumb over her clit, then pressing hard on her clit. He hunched himself forward, so that on each in and out thrust, his thick shaft joined his thumb in rubbing her clit.

It only took three or four strokes like this, for her to erupt her desires all over his shaft, accompanied by her loudest and most drawn-out "Yee-hah!" of the evening. Feeling Jane's thick, creamy passion completely coating his cock, Brad now pumped his plentiful supply of love juice deep inside of her, then continued pulsing, stirring their liquid passions into a nicely-blended love martini. Her famous father, from whose shadow she hoped that her new case would finally let her emerge, can keep his "shaken, not stirred" martinis, Jane thought. She much prefers Brad's vibrating human swizzle stick, gently stirring their own natural martini deep inside of her.

When they finally calmed down, and he slowly eased his still-throbbing shaft out of her, the stirred martini of their juices slowly oozed down along the entire length of her still wide-open pussy lips, oozing onto her dark, smooth, creamy thighs, and onto the towel that Brad had thoughtfully placed between her and the sheet. Their strongly-scented ooze seeped out of her at about the same luxuriously-slow pace, and with nearly the same thick consistency, as a Hawaiian lava flow that is starting to cool off. The next morning, invigorated by the previous night's injection of Vitamin Brad, Jane returned to her computer, and her search for the mysterious and elusive arms dealer known only as W. Jane was drawing renewed energy from the thick pulp of Brad Juice still deeply-embedded inside of her. But she couldn't allow her mind to focus on last night now. Jane still had the vague, gnawing feeling that the existence of a Mrs. W was somehow crucial to bringing W to justice.

Jane looked at the photos of W, and of William Washington Walker, again. He was ruggedly handsome, in a traditional sort of way. Handsome in a different sort of way than her Brad. She wondered what sort of shallow woman would have married W for his looks, either not knowing, or more likely not caring, that he was the world's most dangerous and treacherous merchant of death and destruction. Sure, Jane found her own Brad physically attractive, and last night Brad had once more demonstrated his amazing talent for bringing her to sexual ecstasy. But those features were merely the icing on the cake. Jane had first been attracted to Brad, and later fallen in love with him, because of his intelligence, warm personality, and the interesting, unusual, and fun places and events to which he took her. So a woman attracted only to looks, must be shallow indeed.

With W always on the run, watching over his shoulder for authorities of various nations he wanted to stop his nefarious arms trafficking, W obviously couldn't share fun adventures with his wife, the way Brad did with Jane. W must be one hell of a lover, Jane thought, for his wife to stick with him. Either that, or she was not very bright. But who was his wife, and where, when, and how did they meet? Had they met at the spy academy, just as Jane and Brad had first met?

That gave Jane an idea. Could W have met his wife at The Academy? After all, he had gone underground and started running and hiding, less than a year after he graduated. Where else would W have found the time and opportunity to meet, date, fall in love with, and marry a woman?

Since W seemed to like anything with the letter W in it, having concocted an alias with W as all three initials, could his wife's first or last name start with a W also? Or did both her first and last names start with W? Hey, maybe she was on to something here. She punched ina database query for a female academy graduate, class of 1987, both first and last names starting with W. This time, just one name appeared: Wendy Warmcox. That had to be an alias. Maybe she really enjoys warm cocks (and what healthy heterosexual woman doesn't?), but it was unlikely that Warmcox was really her last name. Had the elusive W made up this name for his girlfriend, as some sort of inside joke?

Jane searched through Wendy Warmcox's records from her Academy days. The verbal portrait that came up revealed just the sort of air-head that Jane expected to marry the likes of W. Wendy had been a cheerleader in high-school, and had gotten in trouble with school authorities during a football game. Apparently, naughty little Wendy really did enjoy warm cocks. She was caught lying down under the bleachers, with several football players piled on and beside her, and with her very short cheerleader's skirt raised even higher than normal. She was supposed to be out on the field, leading cheers, and the players were supposed to be in the locker room, resting up for the second half of the game and listening to the coach's half-time pep-talk. Disgraced, Wendy had dropped out of her high school. Not fair, really, Jane thought. The football players hadn't been punished. And her team had rallied in the second half to win the game, after Wendy had fucked the whole team at half-time. Sometime after this incident, Wendy had enrolled in the British Spy Academy, on the very same day as W, suggesting that Wendy and W already knew each other before they both decided to be trained as spies. Jane wondered if W been one of the football players with whom Wendy had been caught at half-time.

Wendy's grades had not been very high at the Academy. And like W, Wendy had never joined Her Majesty's Secret Service at the conclusion of her spy training. So a highly- intelligent man like W had obviously been attracted to Wendy for something other than her brains.

When Jane finally punched up a photo of Wendy Warmcox, even she could see why W had married Wendy. The photo was evidently the one that Wendy had submitted with her application to the Academy, as it showed her in her high- school cheerleader's outfit. She was tall, about 5 foot 7, with long, shapely legs that seemed to reach halfway up to the sun, and which any man would appreciate having wrapped around him. Wendy had an alluring smile, and an absolutely unblemished, smooth, peaches-and-cream facial complexion. That pretty face was framed by long, straight, golden- blonde hair that cascaded down to her well-curved, toned ass, and brushed across her forehead in a cute little bang. But most importantly, her tight cheerleader outfit made it obvious that her huge breasts put even Jane Bond's 36-C breasts to shame. Like Jane, Wendy seemed to dislike bras, as the high-school photo of her in her cheerleader's outfit clearly showed huge, hard nipples poking out against her well-filled-out uniform top. In the photo, Wendy was holding a partially-peeled banana, and her long tongue was suggestively licking the top end of the banana. If Wendy had married W, her obviously-talented tongue was probably what kept this notorious gun merchant loyal to his hot, trampy little bimbo.

But Jane still had no concrete evidence to tie Wendy Warmcox to this dangerous arms dealer named W. Frustrated, she leaned back in her desk chair, propped her feet on her desk, cupped her hands behind her neck, and closed her eyes. For the umpteenth time, Jane replayed in her head the mental tape-recording of the briefing that M had given her about W the previous day. Jane desperately wanted to remember something, anything, that would identify Wendy Warmcox as W's wife. But she finished playing back the briefing in her mind, and still had nothing. Jane leaned forward in her chair, set her feet back on the floor, picked up the stack of the Agency's surveillance photos of W again, and tossed them onto her desk. She spread the photos out, so her eyes could scan them all at once. As Jane looked at each photo, her frustration increased. Nothing in that photo. Nothing here. Nothing, nothing, and still more of nothing.

Amidst all the glossy 8 by 10 black-and-white photos, a tiny color Polaroid snapshot suddenly fell out of the photo pile, and softly landed on Jane's carpeted floor. "Hold on, what's this?" Jane wondered aloud, although nobody was near enough to hear her. She picked up the photo, which looked to her spy-trained eyes like it was taken as some cheap, amateur, and probably bungled attempt at blackmailing W. As Jane looked at the photo, there was the man that she now knew unmistakably was W, sprawled naked on his back on a bed, his arms and legs spread out and tied to the four corner posts of the bed.

Jane's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she noticed in the photo, the enormous size of W's stiff cock, which was pointing straight up. It looked to be even longer and thicker than her Brad's amazing shaft. Jane had heard, from other women, about men with cocks as long as 10 inches, but she had always assumed that they were exaggerating. Her Brad's eight inches always seemed so long to her, that she had never been able to picture one bigger, until seeing this photo of W naked. Brad's shaft had always completely filled her pussy, his tip pressing against her cervix, his balls against her outer lips, and his thickness tightly stretching her lips around him. So while she drooled in wonder at this photo of W's shaft, Jane also felt that if she ever experienced W's love muscle first-hand, it would hurt her too much. She mentally slapped herself for even thinking about W's huge cock. He was considered the world's most dangerous arms merchant, and Jane Bond would never involve herself with such a man. Besides, she loved Brad, and would never do anything to betray his trust. Her Brad's cock was just the right size for her, and he knew how to use it to bring her to wild, thrashing, shaking, quaking, screaming, moaning orgasms every time, so she had no need of any other cock. Still, that was a mighty big cock that W had, and it was SO hard.

Jane wondered what had made W that hard.

Jane finally moved her eyes away from her riveted attention to W's anatomy, and noticed a naked female figure standing over W's bed at the left side of the snapshot. Now Jane knew what had made W so big and hard, and why this blackmail-style photo had been taken in the first place. Jane studied the female figure. This woman's gaze was locked on W's amazingly huge organ, as Jane's had just been. Not at all surprisingly, that woman had a broad, lustful smile lighting up the peaches-and-cream complexion on her face, as she stared at W's erect 10-incher. Jane recognized the cute blonde bangs, and the long, golden- blonde hair cascading down around the woman's huge, naked breasts (her chest must have been at least 40 inches) and delicately curving ass. That woman also had nearly the same tight, sexy, curving creases as Jane did, where his ass cheeks met her shapely legs. Considering that the high- school photo must have been taken about 15 years ago, this girl had evidently aged very little. But there was no mistaking the woman in the Polaroid photo: that was Wendy Warmcox. Although Jane had never before exhibited any Lesbian traits, as Jane gazed at the naked photo of Wendy, she couldn't help wondering what those enormous breasts would feel like cupped in her hands, and what those long, wide nipples tasted like. Jane found herself wanting to experience first-hand what kind of wild animal this blonde sex-goddess was in bed.

When Jane finally snapped out of her fantasies about W and Wendy, she realized that she now had her proof that W and his wife were both alumni of the British Spy Academy, and had both dropped out of sight when he started selling weapons to terrorists in 1988. Now all Jane Bond had to do, was to determine where W and Wendy were hiding-out right now, and stop W's next arms deal from going through. If only she could find out where that color Polaroid had been snapped, maybe she could track W's movements from there.

And if she could find Wendy, maybe Jane could somehow find a way to use Wendy against W, to bring the arms merchant to justice. She didn't know precisely how yet, but Jane just knew that she had to find something more attractive to Wendy than W's 10-inch cock, to break Wendy's 15 years of loyalty to this dangerous man, and to get Wendy on her side in bringing this terrorist down.

To Be Continued...

 

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