Another First Time Ch. 06

He tongue fucked Cory's hole, being able to dig deep, and Cory went up on his knees and widened his stance to give Kerenskyi as much of an opening as possible. Yuri reached in between Cory's legs and milked his cock and fondled and distended his balls until the young man came for him.

Trent was losing his grip on his assigned role, his eye on the target. He wanted the anal fuck so bad, and he let that slip, "Oh, god, Yuri, I want you so bad."

"You want me inside you, don't you?" Kerenskyi murmured as he went onto his knees between Cory's thighs and covered the young man close with his body. "You want the cock. Tell me you want the cock."

"You know I do," Trent sobbed—trying hard to retain his grip on being Cory. He wasn't lying and his sob wasn't acting. "But . . . Istanbul . . . after my birthday." Trent's proviso sounded weak even to himself. Kerenskyi was slapping Cory's buttocks with his hard cock. The young man so much wanted him to insert it—and he knew, from Cory's shuddering and weak resistance that he'd lost resolve.

"You'll let me fuck you now, won't you?" Kerenskyi asked, leaning over and putting his lips close to Cory's ear. The bulb of his cock was pushing at the young man's hole. One thrust and Kerenskyi would be inside Cory. Lost to him, Cory assumed that would happen now, and he set his mind to what he had to do to convince Kerenskyi that he was the first one inside him.

"Yes," Cory sobbed. "Fuck me if you want. I may lose all of my inheritance, but, if you won't wait until Istanbul . . ."

And then he was fucking Cory with his cock—not in his passage, but between his thighs. "Hold your thighs pressed together," he commanded, and Cory did so as he set up a rhythmic thrusting between the clinched muscles of the younger man's thighs.

Lowering his cheek to the mattress in relief, Cory murmured, "Yes, yes, fuck it."

Kerenskyi was getting more pleasure out of this than Cory was, which was borne out by his grunts and groans as he gripped the young man's waist and slid his cock in and out between Cory's thighs. At least when Kerenskyi closed his eyes he could imagine something close to fucking Cory properly. For Cory it was just more frustration, as now he badly wanted the older man inside him and pumping. When Kerenskyi had come, pulling out, turning Cory, and coming up to push his cock between the young man's lips before he shot off, he pushed Cory down on the bed and stretched out beside him, enclosing the young man close in his arms.

"We sleep a bit now," he whispered.

"Yes," Cory answered, relieved that the danger had passed—for now. He hadn't been satisfied, but Kerenskyi had been enough so that he didn't go over the edge.

"When we wake, I will fuck you everywhere else until I'm satisfied: your throat, your pits, your thighs again. You said whatever I wanted but the ass."

"Yes," Cory agreed.

"And then when we get to Istanbul, I'll come to you and fuck you all night in the ass."

"Yes, I want you to be the first," Cory answered and gave a deep sigh. He had gambled and was still winning.

Cory woke up in the morning, on his belly, Kerenskyi on top of him, his knees gripping Cory's legs tightly, his cock slamming the crease between Cory's clinched thighs, high up, almost to the young man's asshole, which was puckering and releasing, begging him to move up and thrust inside. "Yes, yes," Cory whined. "Fuck, me. Fuck me hard." Cory meant an entirely different method of fuck, and if Kerenskyi plowed Cory's ass then, the younger man would have been happy, operation or no operation. Chances were good Cory could get him to Istanbul for a follow-up anyway.

"Fuck me, Yuri. Fuck me properly," Cory whined.

"No, you're right. Istanbul is just a few days away."

"Fuck me now! Stick it inside me; plow me hard," Cory cried out, turning on him, reaching for his cock. Trent didn't care. His mind was racing: Fuck my handler, Maurice. Fuck Mavis, who was posing at Mrs. Deavers. Fuck the Agency. He wanted the big stud to fuck him now.

Yuri pulled away from Cory, slapped him on the butt, laughed, and said, "It will make it all the better in Istanbul. Get dressed. It's almost time for you to be at the breakfast table."

Sobbing, Cory sat up on the edge of the bed, grabbed for Kerenskyi's hips, and pulled him close, opening his mouth over Kerenskyi's cock and beginning to suck.

"Well, all right," the older man said with a low laugh, taking Cory's head between his two hands. "I guess we have time before breakfast."

* * * *

Trent was tied off at all four points on the hotel bed in Istanbul and Gene Chambers was kneeling between his spread legs, tilting his pelvis up with hands cupping and spreading his butt cheeks. Chambers was pounding away in Trent's ass, fucking him to beat the band. The headboard was bouncing off the wall and the springs were screaming a litany of complaint. They hadn't, of course, declared their true selves to each other, but the sex was so raw, so immediate, so their true desires, that pretense was out the window. Trent was no longer Cory—he was Trent, with Trent's needs. Yuri Kerenskyi had melted back into the randy American sailor, Gene Chambers.

It was the third time Chambers had fucked Trent that night and the young man was purring his pleasure. Sometime in the second fucking, Trent decided that he no longer had to act like this was the first time—he made the first time, on the carpet doggy style, difficult for Chambers to get it all inside him, which seemed to have aroused the older man all the more. Trent now was letting it all out, crying out, "deeper, faster, harder!" and Chambers was doing as much as he could to comply.

This wasn't supposed to have happened. As Trent was checking out the very plush room at the Four Season Bosporus hotel, as was fitting for the rich heir Trent had been posing as, Maurice and Mavis were fussing around with directions.

"As soon as he answers your note that he's coming, let us know," Maurice was saying. Turning to Mavis, he said, "Are you sure Trent didn't—?"

"He held off. I had my eye on him every moment," Mavis answered with a straight face.

Trent didn't look at her so that she wouldn't see his smirk at that comment. The man who then was Yuri Kerenskyi had given Trent, as Cory, a peek into the captain's cabin from a side room the last night at sea. The only thing Mavis was keeping an eye on at that moment was the captain's short and curlies. Yuri had taken Cory back to his cabin then and done everything to him but dick-driven ass work—and left the young man craving that as well.

"Well, whatever he's had, he's had his fun. Signal me as soon as he says he'll come and we'll pick him up in the lobby. It's time for the naval defector to answer for the damage he's done to U.S. intelligence."

"Yes, sir," Trent answered, not really caring at the moment what Yuri, or whatever his American name, had done back in the States. Trent was interested in what he could do with his dick right here.

So, Trent didn't call when Chambers said he was coming. So, Chambers didn't encounter anyone in the lobby, as, excited, he came earlier than he was expected and surveillance hadn't been set up, and Trent had let him in the room, Trent had let Chambers fuck him on the floor just inside the room, and Trent had let Chambers tie him to the bed and fuck the stuffing out of him.

And Trent was loving every thrust of it.

All things come to an end, though. The knock on the door, with a question from management on whether something was wrong with the room as knocking sounds had been heard—undoubtedly the headboard bouncing against the wall. Rising, and quickly pulling on his jeans and Chambers went to the door, leaving the chain on, and opened it a crack.

He was propelled into the room by the boot against the door that made it split inward. Within seconds, rough hands on burly suited agents had hustled Chambers—no longer the Russian Kerenskyi, but once again the American traitor, Gene Chambers—out of the room, never to have his dick inside Trent again, although Trent saw the man's face staring at him from the newspaper pages for months afterward, and Maurice was entering the room.

He came over to the side of the bed, a nasty sneer on his face.

"What's this then?" he asked. "You were supposed to signal me before he came up here."

"He just appeared," Trent said. "Here, untie me."

"Not a chance just yet," Maurice said, sitting down on the side of the bed and reaching over to encase Trent's cock and begin to stroke it. "You're lying to me, aren't you? You wanted the man to fuck you before we grabbed him."

"Yes, so what?" Trent shot back. "It was as frustrating for me to hold him off as it was for him. And you got him. What does it matter if I got my pleasure out of him before you snatched him?"

"It wasn't in my plans for him to have the pleasure," Maurice said.

"Oh, you're jealous," Trent shot back.

Maurice slapped him hard on the cheek, sending Trent's head snapping to one side. Then, when Trent turned his head, Maurice slapped it to the other side.

Licking a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, Trent slitted his eyes, arched his back, and moaned. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard, Maurice." It wasn't pretense. Violence and danger was what had brought the two men into the clinch before—had hardened Maurice's cock and had softened Trent at the core to receive the filling dick deep.

Maurice reached down into his boot and pulled out a nasty-looking little dagger. He put it to Trent's throat.

"The point is, Trent. You feel the point, don't you?" Trent could feel the trickle of blood there as Maurice nicked him under the chin. "The point is that you disobeyed me. That doesn't happen between agents and their handlers. If I can't trust you to follow my instructions to the letter, you are of no use to me anymore. You are disposable."

The hand stroking Trent's cock was driving him wild. He was moving his pelvis and Maurice was just holding the hand slightly open and letting Trent stroke up in the sheath he'd provided.

"Fuck me, Maurice. Fuck me hard. We both know you want to do it."

Giving Trent a nasty look and keeping the knife point to his throat, Maurice released Trent's cock, Trent heard him unzip himself, and he climbed up on the bed, with his knees between the young man's spread-eagled legs.

He was hard. Trent knew he would be. Trent knew that finding him like this would make Maurice hard—the dangerous confrontation between them and the knife to Trent's throat making Maurice the hardest. Trent arched his back and huffed to the ceiling as Maurice thrust his cock inside him, deep. Maurice was one of the thickest and longest men Trent had ever had. Soft, yielding, open to him, Trent took him to the root in one slide.

As Trent's eyes watered and his mouth opened in a silent scream, Maurice began to pump him vigorously.