Another First Time Ch. 03

"I think that your interest is in men and that you're ripe for the experience with men. Could I be right?"

"Maybe," Christopher murmured. He looked away, ostensibly to signal that he was slightly embarrassed at this acknowledgement. But, in fact, he wanted to look again at the bar, where there was virtually no space separating "Andrea" now and the Russian—and then at Kellsing's assistant, Docker, who Christopher could readily see had his concerned eyes plastered to the couple at the bar.

We'd had it all wrong, the American spy thought. The operation was to disrupt a chemical buy between the German supplier and the Russian buyer. The Agency knew there was sexual friction in the deal that was helping to seal it. They'd thought it was between Kellsing and Bukanin. But they had it wrong. It was the assistant, Docker, who was the key. He was the one linked with Bukanin, who was known to be a bisexual schemer. Docker was the glue in the chemical deal.

"How old are you, Christopher?" Kellsing asked. "Seventeen? Eighteen?" Christopher almost missed the question, with his attention turned elsewhere. His mind was racing on changing the operation with this new revelation. He didn't have to seduce Kellsing—or, rather, let the German seduce him—now. But, then, now Christopher wanted Kellsing to fuck him. He'd worry about changing the operation tomorrow—after he had consulted with Mavis.

"Uh, what? I'm twenty-one?" Christopher answered, letting the thought that the drug was taking hold cover his inattention. The young man also gave the German a low moan, as Kellsing had both hands on the inside of Christopher's thighs now, pressing them to open wider for him, the hands moving high on Christopher's thighs, a thumb continuing to rub the young man's hardened cock through the fabric of the trousers, rubbing down the entire shaft. Of course the twenty-one was a lie—Trent/Christopher really was twenty-three—but the age he had given seemed to thrill the German. Christopher wondered what the German would do if he'd said he was seventeen. Nothing different, probably. It probably would have given the man even more of a thrill.

"Twenty-one and still hiding your true wishes under your mother's wing? Don't you think it's time that you stepped out on your own—that you took the pleasures that you obviously have craved for a long time? I have my knees parting your legs and my hands almost possessing your jewels. And you haven't resisted. You want me between your legs, don't you? I can fondle your cock, and you'll want that too, won't you? I can be inside you."

Kellsing moved a hand to cup Christopher's package. The young American shuddered, blushed, and looked down at the hand. He covered the hand, with its long, sensuous fingers, with one of his. But, to tell the German he'd won, Christopher didn't do it to try to remove his hand; he covered his hand to keep it there. And he gave the German a virginal tremble in his hand.

"Have you ever been fucked by a man before, Christopher? My guess is that you haven't."

"No." I delivered it in a nervous whisper.

"But you've thought of it, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"You've wanted it, haven't you? You came here wanting it from a man at the ski lodge."

"Yes."

"I am that man. You want me to fuck you, don't you? You've opened your legs to me and let me feel you up. You're hard for me." He was running his fingers along Christopher's hard-on through the material of the trousers and Christopher was responding with low panting. "You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

Christopher let an ambiguous moan speak for him.

"I can initiate you in a way that will maximize the pleasure and minimize the pain. Will you let me do that for you, Christopher? Will you come up to my room now and let me fuck you? You needn't worry about your mother. She's left the lounge with Aleksy. My guess is that she will be occupied for a while and will be enjoying pleasures she's denied to you for too long. Will you come upstairs with me now and let me fuck you, let me inside you?"

Christopher noticed he didn't say "make love to you." Kellsing was being real and honest about what he wanted. Christopher knew that once he'd let the muscular German take him upstairs, the towering hunk would fuck the stuffing out of him—virgin or not. He was right about Mavis and the Russian, though. They had left the room. Docker's eyes had followed them out. He was still staring at the door through which they had departed, obviously expecting—hoping—that they'd reappear at any moment, give up on their obvious intent. Of course, the young American spy knew Kellsing was right. They would be fucking for hours. If he went upstairs with the German they'd be fucking for hours too.

"Yes," Christopher whispered, looking up into Kellsing's eyes, willing his eyes to mist over. "Take me upstairs and fuck me good." He delivered it in a voice that was unsteady, unsure. He still wanted Kellsing to think that he'd seduced a virgin, a virgin impaired by drug.

This was about what Christopher—no, Trent—wanted now.

Upstairs, Kellsing had done all of the stripping—of Christopher and then of himself. The young American was busy doing the nervous, blushing, and "in awe" act. Christopher did what he could to come quickly, with embarrassment and snuffled apologies, as he sat on the side of the bed and Kellsing knelt between his trembling legs and sucked him off while his fingers pressed inside Christopher's passage. The German was smart enough not to press his seduced "virgin" to give him a blow job before popping his man cherry, which he did sitting behind Christopher on the side of the bed, starting with encasing the young man's legs between his, letting his hands roam over Christopher's torso as the supposed virgin moaned for him, and jacking Christopher off for a second time.

Before penetrating Christopher, he brought the opening of a small vial to the young man's nose and had him inhale several times.

"Here, this will relax you and loosen you up. There will be little or no pain." And, sure enough, the chemist had come through again. Christopher could feel all the tension draining out of this body and, amazingly, he felt his channel loosen up and opening without the need for the usual lube and fingering.

Christopher wasn't worried. He could feel the German's cock running up the small of his back, and, though, quite long, it wasn't unusually thick. Christopher wouldn't have any trouble at all taking him, as much sex as he had, although he'd mastered the art of tightening his channel over a man's cock to make it seem he was rarely used. This often was a difficult time for Christopher, though—taking the cock but needing to act like it was for the first time. Kellsing had obviated all of that with his chemicals.

The German spread Christopher's thighs and hooked them over his legs, also opening his stance. Then, after turning the young man's face to his for several moments of moaning kissy face, he merely pressed Christopher's torso forward between his legs, which raised the American's buttocks to him, slid his cock into Christopher's drug-induced gaping hole, and, with a hand grip on Christopher's waist on both sides, began pulling young man on and off the cock.

After a few minutes of this, he pushed Christopher further onto the carpet on all fours, mounted his hips, and fucked him with increasingly vigorous strokes. Since Christopher supposedly was a virgin and the German presumably got himself checked often, he barebacked the young American to two strong ejaculations.

Afterward he pulled Christopher up on the bed, hit him with more snorts from his bottle, and showed him three more positions that he could fuck the young American in, with Christopher showing genuine appreciation each time the two of them came. For the two last fuckings, Christopher reached for the vial, but was denied it.

"I want to show you how a tight fuck feels," Kellsing growled. He took Christopher hard, so the young American had occasion to act out the challenge of a taxed and stretched passage under the onslaught of a cruel master.

The last taking was one of complete surrender. Lying on his back, his legs bent and spread, his pelvis raised with a pillow under the small of his back, Christopher opened his thighs and arms to Kellsing and gave the German a dreamy look as he moved to cover Christopher with his knees between the young American's thighs. Christopher grunted, arched his back, and stared up at the ceiling as Kellsing's long, cruel cock entered, entered, entered Christopher's now-tight channel. Christopher clawed at his buttocks with both hands, holding the German's hard, muscular body close. Cupping the young man's head in his hands and looking down into Christopher's eyes, The German gave him all of the cock and whispered, "Is it good for you? Much pain? God, your body is beautiful. Young, nubile, pliant. You were meant to be fucked."

"Shit, yes, daddy. I hurts good. I've waited so long for this. Fuck me hard; fuck me deep."

He did, plowing the channel in long strokes and flooding it deep again and again with his hot cum, and, indeed, Christopher floated in the pleasure of it—not least because the operation no longer demanded that the American spy be doing this.

Before returning to his room, leaving Kellsing snoring happily in his bed, Christopher checked on the ski lodge's lounge. It was practically deserted, but Docker was still there, eyes glued to the doorway Mavis and the Russian had left by. They, of course, weren't in the room.

* * * *

Mavis wasn't in her room when Trent checked the next morning. He found her in the dining room, finishing up her breakfast.

"How is the Russian?" Trent asked.

"Consumed by ego and his own needs. Thick and a bit crude, forceful, and demanding, but I managed," she answered. "And Kellsing. Has your virginity been satisfactorily debauched yet again?"

"About that, I think we've gone for the wrong target. In fact, I'm sure we have," Trent said—rather than answering her question. Since fucking the German CEO had fallen out of the operation as Trent saw it, it had become a personal matter. He didn't want to lump it into the job. He wanted to savor it and he wanted to think about the next time he could be with Kellsing—off the books, which would make it all the more satisfying.

"What do you mean?" she asked. And then Trent laid it all out for her, she agreed, and they readjusted their approach.

"That's if the only assignment here is to break up the chemical weapons deal between Kellsing's company and the Russians," Trent said.

"Yes, but what . . .?"

"We slide back into the other scenario," he said. "The Russian is bi. We know that. Confess to him that I'm not your son—tell him that I'm your boy toy. And that we do threesomes. I'll take care of the rest."

As Trent was saying that, he saw Gerhardt Kellsing go by outside the windows to the dining room. He was all bundled up and was carrying skis.

"For now, I think I'll have to exercise our cover for a while," Trent said, rising from the breakfast table, ready to slip back into his role as Christopher. "Our story is that we're here for me to do some skiing. So, I guess I'd better do some."

"You ski?" Mavis asked.

"I do all sorts of things," Trent said.

"I've noticed," she said, looking at him with admiration in him eyes. Trent duly noted that it wouldn't be a good idea to fuck Mavis outside the line of duty and to draw lines there anyway. This sex spying was a complicated and slippery slope. He'd had no idea how complicated it could get. And to emphasize that, Trent now felt the need to have Gerhardt Kellsing inside him again—and he couldn't help scratching that itch.

Trent also was so steeped in scenarios that he changed back into Christopher and orchestrated the next encounter, wanting to play the vulnerable conquest. He waited at the intermediate takeoff position at the top of the ski slopes until he saw the bundled-up hunk up at the expert blocks. Then, as the man at the top pushed off, Trent could see that this hadn't been his first run. The figure was slathered with the snow that was falling and sticking to everything, masking the pattern Christopher had seen on Kellsing's ski suit.

Christopher pushed off then, as well. He kept in front of the other skier going down the slope, and in an area where there was no one other than the two of them—just someone further up the hill from them, Christopher purposely went off into the trees and made like he'd taken a bad fall.

The skier glided over into the trees as Christopher had hoped he would, bent over the young American, and brushed the snow away from his face. Christopher gave him the sleeping angel treatment, making himself as desirable as possible—and, not being able to resist the young man between the fresh, young beauty of the face God had given him and the sexual-attraction pheromones the Agency lab had given him, the skier couldn't resist lowering his lips to Christopher's. And then, when the young man reacted well to that, the skier couldn't help letting his hand wander down Christopher's torso—ostensibly checking for broken body parts, but both men knew better.

Christopher raised his pelvis to him when the skier reached his package, murmured "Yes, yes," sighed and opened his needy eyes to the other man. Stripping the glove off a hand, the skier unbuttoned Christopher's fly and found his hardening cock.

Christopher gave him a look of shock, the skier fisted his cock. It was a natural impulse even though it served to increase his ardor. The shock was because it wasn't Kellsing. It was the Russian, Bukanin. Without thinking, Christopher pushed his pelvis harder up into the Russian's hand and, taking that as a signal, Bukanin's possessing kiss became brutal.

He was all those things that Mavis had said he was—crude, forceful, and demanding. And, as Christopher soon learned, he was thick, as, against all of Christopher's struggles—growing weaker as he realized that this fell in with the planning Mavis and he had redone—the Russian overpowered the young American, growled in his ear, "Kellsing told me you take cock—that you took his last night," bent Christopher's belly over a fallen tree trunk, pulled his ski pants down, and fucked him hard like a dog in heat.

The plans fell further into place at that point, as it turned out that the skier who had been further up the slope was Kellsing's assistant, Hans Docker. As the Russian fucked Christopher, Docker stood off at the fringe of the trees, watching in frustration, before gliding off down the slope to nurse disappointment and, the American spy hoped, growing anger at the Russian, who had bedded him in a successful effort to solidify the chemical weapons deal.

The Russian, grunting like a rutting animal, fucked Christopher hard and long, chewing on his ear, and accosting the young man with crudities in Russian, which he had no reason to know that Christopher understood.

He did, in English, growl an "I do it better than the German does, don't I?" but he didn't seem to require an answer and Christopher's belabored groaning could be taken as an affirmation.

Trying to enhance the Russians pleasure and interest as much as possible, Christopher moved from virginal struggle—knowing that the Russian was enjoying taking him forcefully without his full consent—to giving in to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, letting him know that the young American not only surrendered to him but wanted what the Russian was giving him, and whispering endearments back to him in French, which Christopher well knew Bukanin was conversant in. As he understood that Christopher had totally capitulated to him, he rose higher on the young American's body, digging his boots more firmly in the snow-covered ground to provide leverage to thrust harder and harder. He grabbed Christopher by the hair, rhythmically jerking his torso back toward him and forcing Christopher's face into the snowbank on the other side of the log.

Sensing what aroused Bukanin the most, when Christopher's face came out of the snow, he gasped dramatically for breath, and cried out in French, "Yes, yes. You're a stud. You're better than the German. Fuck me, fuck me hard. Punish me." This egged the Russian on and he gave Christopher what he was crying for.

To Christopher's shame, he had to acknowledge that this was a superior fuck to what Kellsing had given him. He would prefer Kellsing in the long run, but from time to time Christopher wanted it this rough—rutting animals fucking outside, bent over a log.

Afterward it was firmly established that Bukanin would have Christopher again under less-clothed circumstances and that the young American would give the Russian whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it—which just played to the Russian's enormous ego and sense of entitlement. He was a thug and a brute—and so Christopher knew he was going to enjoy this part of the assignment.

Christopher would leave it to Mavis now to maneuver the Russian into a threesome. The young American knew it wouldn't take much maneuvering—and it didn't.

* * * *

After that, completion of the mission was a piece of cake—but it left its scars on Christopher, and he moved on to the next task chastened and with more steel in his spine over what the necessary pleasure-pain mix had to be of what he had been pulled in to.

Mavis arranged the threesome for that night in Bukanin's room, having no trouble whatsoever interesting the man in the idea.

Christopher, in turn, had a note sent to Hans Docker, inviting him to Bukanin's room that night and providing the room pass card the Russian had given Mavis.

The Russian fucked Mavis hard, missionary style, when the two American spies came to his room, but he pulled out before ejaculating and gave over to Christopher. The young American had barely moved between her bent legs and entered her, though, before the Russian was saddled up behind him, thrusting inside him, and guiding his fucking of him and Christopher's of Mavis with the vigorous stroking of his cock. He fisted Christopher's hair with one hand, arching his torso back to his chest and dug the claws of his other hand in the young American's left pec. Christopher was pulled almost entirely off Mavis, connecting only with his cock buried inside her, his plowing fully controlled by the Russian's thrusts.

Bukanin was jerking and coming as the door to the corridor opened and Hans Docker stood there, taking the threesome in with a shocked look on his face. This sent him over the edge on any favoritism to Bukanin on a chemical weapons deal with Docker's boss, Kellsing, as Mavis and Trent hoped—and had planned—that it would, and there was no question that he would—and had—sabotaged the deal from this point.

Mavis and Trent, eschewing their temporary identities, moved on to Turkey from there the next day, Mavis humming a job well done and Trent more subdued and bitter. The previous evening, before the assignation with Bukanin, Trent had gauged that he had time for a private session with Gerhardt Kellsing. The young American found the German CEO in the ski lodge, sitting in the conversation pit in front of a roaring fire in the towering stone fireplace. He was closely facing a young male skier who had arrived just that morning. Kellsing had his knees insinuated between the young man's thighs. The young man was on at least his second spiked drink.

As Trent approached with halting steps and disbelief, Kellsing looked up and saw him. He showed practically no reaction at all. It was as if he didn't see Trent, didn't know him, hadn't stolen the young American's virginity—at least he thought he had—the night before. Trent had been just another one-time conquest for him.

Somehow, if Trent was going to continue in this spying by sex business, he knew he was going to have to find a way to pull any personal feelings for the targets out of the equation. He turned and slowly walked away—to prepare for the finale with the Russian. He was half expecting—hoping—that Kellsing would call him back.