Distinctions

I have several distinctions, some good, some bad, but they show who I really am.

I'm probably the only person in history to be dishonorably discharged from the U. S. Army Rangers and disbarred by the Virginia State Bar, both before my thirtieth birthday, both times for physical violence (that's all I'm going to say about the matter, except to say that I only spent a few days in jail or the guardhouse). Obviously I have what many people consider a "bad attitude." In my view my attitude is "take no shit and never back down," and I have no intention of reforming.

I was born with a near perfect physique for a combination of strength and endurance and have been tested for reflexes and reaction time -- in all ways possible -- that indicate that I'm in the top 0.01% in the world. I'm not exceptionally big (six feet one inch, 205 pounds) but given my inherent strength, endurance, reflexes, and reaction time, have never lost a fight in my life, even against multiple opponents. I also have a facility with languages; not something I developed, I was just born with it but I have cultivated it.

I, Sean Lisle, am telling you these things only to set the stage for how and why this story unfolded like it did.

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After my disbarment I was looking for a new profession although I still had hope that the attorney I had hired could get it reversed. An old client of mine, aware of my background and capabilities, recommended me for a position as a translator/bodyguard for a documentary being filmed by a news crew in an Eastern European Country which I'll call Empore where the native language is Emporian. I've used those fictional names just so I don't have to reveal the real name, which might get some people's hackles up especially if they believe what I'm about to recount in this story. I do speak Emporian if not fluently, close to it, and definitely without an American accent.

When I met the primarily American crew of the documentary I was non-plussed. They seemed to be naïve and the narrator/reporter/boss was an entitled bitch. The crew consisted of Jeremy a cameraman, Bill a sound guy, Nigel a producer (a Brit, the only non-American), and Cynthia (never "Cindy") the star reporter. All of them were married. After talking to Cynthia for less than an hour I couldn't believe that any guy would marry her despite the fact that she was fairly hot; I'd rate her a 9 on a 10 point scale. Given her obnoxious personality if she were a guy she probably would have gotten the shit beat out of her ten times a day -- including by me. However, since I never have -- nor will I ever -- hit a woman with her I'd just have to grin and bear it.

After spending some time with Cynthia and the crew despite my poor work history and bad financial situation I declined the offer. It seemed to me that they had a stupid plan and despite some assurances from the Empore government the assignment was fraught with danger. However, when they couldn't get anyone else and they raised my compensation to a ridiculously high level, including paying 25% cash in advance, I decided that it was worth the risk and pain.

The first few days in Empore weren't too bad. The government had provided some soldiers to assist with security the first couple of places that we visited. When I actually got to see Cynthia at work my attitude toward her changed a little -- both for the better and worse.

For the better, she had a real facility for getting people to open up and for choosing the right locations for filming (she was obviously very smart); and after seeing her in some of the provocative outfits that she wore I'd have to rate her looks as even higher than a 9 -- close to a 10.

For worse, she took too many risks, wouldn't listen to reason, didn't watch what she said which could be interpreted by the authoritarian Empore government as insulting, and was hard on the crew and attempted to be hard on me, although I didn't take her shit.

Despite having derisively told me on several occasions "You don't look like you're worth shit as a bodyguard Sean," Cynthia also seemed to ultimately appreciate me (although she never thanked me). Her grudging appreciation ensued because despite the small military escort I personally had to dispatch no less than five guys who were trying to do her harm or wouldn't take "no" for an answer including two guys at once in one episode. Also, she had no choice but to rely on me since more than 90% of the residents we encountered spoke no English and no one else on the crew spoke even two words of Emporian.

My fear that given how reckless Cynthia was with her language and risk taking that the shit would ultimately hit the fan came to be about a week into our sojourn into Empore. The night before I cautioned Cynthia not to ask the questions she was planning to ask a government official (who spoke English so I couldn't modify her questions when I translated) the next morning. The bitch ignored what I told her. The official was obviously insulted, the interview ended abruptly, and after that our military escort disappeared.

That afternoon, after it was clear that the military escort was not coming back, I insisted that we get to the international airport and get the hell out of Empore as soon as possible. Jeremy and Nigel were in agreement; Bill said nothing but did have a wide-eyed look about him, however Cynthia poo-poohed my concerns. I would have taken off by myself and left her to the wolves except for the fact that I wouldn't have gotten the other 75% of my pay and I liked Jeremy and Nigel (Bill, not so much) and didn't want harm to come to them.

What I did do that night, however, was to go into a bad section of town and pull a "Jack Reacher," namely I beat the shit out of a thug who tried to mug me and took his gun. Unfortunately the gun was an old East German version of the Makarov pistol and was a piece of shit; but it was better than nothing, and the thug also had an extra magazine.

We somehow got through the next day without more than one mildly concerning incident but the day after that we were confronted by four large men in dark suits with handguns conspicuously present on their person. The large men talked only in Emporian so I was the only one to converse with them. It was obvious to me that they were some version of the Empore "secret police" and were agitated because of Cynthia's interview with the government official two days before. After some preliminaries they demanded the "tape" from the interview.

Apparently technology isn't as developed in Empore as it is in the West because the video and sound were both digital and had already been transmitted back to the U S via the Internet hookup in the hotel we were staying at. Perhaps I made a mistake in telling them that, but since I couldn't produce a "tape" anyway because we didn't have anything resembling one there wasn't much else that I could do.

They got incensed when I couldn't produce a tape and said some very threatening and disturbing things and nothing that I said was having any effect on calming them down. They clearly were out for blood.

One guy pushed Cynthia down, and two others went for their guns. At that point I thought that I had no choice; I sure as hell wasn't going to land in a prison in Empore -- I'd rather be dead -- and since my reaction time was half theirs they were both dead before their guns cleared their holsters. However, two shots were all my poor, old, version of a Makarov pistol was good for before it jammed.

One of the two remaining secret police cleared his holster but when I deflected it away from me and it discharged the bullet hit Bill in the chest, wasting him. I hit that guy hard in the face twice and he went down with his gun bouncing on the pavement. The fourth guy, who had pushed Cynthia down and was ominously hovering over her, was slow to react but instead of going for his gun once he saw what was happening he charged me. Fortunately, although he outweighed me by at least 70 pounds (32kg) he was mostly a bull, and not a skilled fighter. I avoided his initial charge and then slammed his head twice into the brick building adjacent us.

As the startled remaining crew looked on, Cynthia still from a position on her ass, I picked up the gun -- a modern, excellent, version of a Makarov -- that the third guy had dropped and put a bullet into the heads of each of the third and fourth secret policemen. Then I put the gun, and a magazine from the pocket of one of the dead dudes, into my pocket.

"We need to get the fuck out of here," I yelled.

"What about Bill?" Nigel asked.

"He's dead; leave him, the sound equipment and the camera and let's go," I snarled.

Cynthia protested but I didn't give a shit. I literally threw her over my shoulder and started running.

Once we were about a kilometer away -- Nigel and Jeremy were out of breath and couldn't have gone any further -- I put a mad-as-a-hornet Cynthia back on the ground, stopped her feeble attempt to slap me, and told them my plan.

"Look, soon the entire country will be looking for us. Nigel and Jeremy do you both have your wallets and passports with you?" I said/asked. They both nodded "yes." "While Cynthia stays behind this building I'll flag a taxi down for you, you get to the International airport in the capital and get the first flight out to anywhere. Cynthia and I will try to flee into the neighboring country closest to us -- it's only about forty kilometers away. We'll contact you once we're safe."

"Shouldn't we stay together?" Jeremy asked.

"Hell no; they'll be looking for three guys and a woman. Splitting up is our only hope and given how the men have reacted to Cynthia since we've been here she needs my protection." Before they could say anything else a taxi was coming our way. I told Cynthia to hide -- unbelievably she actually obeyed me -- and I flagged down the taxi. I told the driver where to take the passengers, got him to tell me the fare -- in Euros -- and promised him a 100 € tip if he got them there within an hour. I then told Jeremy and Nigel what the financial situation was and off they went.

I retrieved Cynthia who now appreciated the seriousness of the situation. "We need to find a way to change our appearance and then a hotel to lay low for a couple of nights before we flee to the next country west of here," I said. Surprisingly she didn't give me any shit -- she just nodded her head in agreement.

Cynthia and I first went to an apothecary (the Emporian language word for it is very similar) to get hair dye, a scissors, and fake glasses; we separated so that it didn't appear that we were together and we each got what we wanted. Then we went into the equivalent of a department store -- also separately -- and bought garments that were very Empore-like, and changed in the changing rooms and discarded our Western outer garments. Then we sought out a cheap hotel. I checked in and surreptitiously told her the room number.

When we got to the room we had a frank discussion. Cynthia finally realized that she should have listened to my advice and not interviewed the government official like she did. She was broken up about Bill's death -- and our situation -- and since I don't like to kick someone when they're down (except for the two secret police who obviously wished us ill-will) I sympathized with her.

After our frank discussion we both dyed our hair, I cut hers and she cut mine, and we had our fake glasses at the ready. I was looking out our window to see possible areas of escape if the situation deteriorated when I saw two old Russian-made GAZ-24 vehicles pull up and eight guys dressed just like the secret police who had accosted us get out. There is no way that they could have found us already -- unless!

I turned to Cynthia. "Did anyone from the government give you something during our stay?"

"Yes, they gave me a ceremonial key to the capital city the first day that we arrived," she replied.

I hadn't been around when that was done or I would have long ago ditched it. "Let me see it," I said.

Cynthia pulled it out of her purse. As soon as I held it I knew that it had a tracker in it. "We need to leave -- now," I snapped.

"What..." she started to say when I interrupted her and said "I'll get the plastic bag with all of our hair dye products in it from the bathroom," as I put the ceremonial "key" in my pocket. "You grab your purse and turn right out of the room and wait for me in the North stairwell."

Cynthia did as asked. After retrieving the bag I looked around to make sure there was nothing else behind that would give us away, and then ran to the North stairwell. We were on the 3rd floor. I grabbed Cynthia's hand and we went up to the 4th floor and plastered ourselves against the wall. We heard footsteps coming up the stairs; they obviously were covering the elevator and both stairwells.

When we heard the door to the third floor close, we ran down to the first floor, out an emergency exit, and then ran like hell until Cynthia couldn't run any more. As she panted with her hands on her knees -- we were close to a kilometer from the hotel -- a guy came by on his motorbike and parked it. As his back was to me and he was locking it up I choked him unconscious, laid him gently down on his back and out of sight, gave Cynthia his helmet to put on, and fired up his motorbike as she got behind me.

The motorbike was a Ural/Dnepr, not a very good bike, and under-powered. However, it did the job and got us a good twenty kilometers away from the hotel. After about a kilometer I put the ceremonial "key" in an idling truck with a German license plate, and then tore away, with the hope that the secret police would follow the truck which -- once it got going -- would likely go in a direction perpendicular to the direction we were heading.

We checked in at a new cheap hotel. We were distressed when on the fuzzy tube TV in our barely adequate room our photos were prominently displayed in a news show; along with Jeremy's and Nigel's. Fortunately the photos were taken before our hair dying and cutting, and use of glasses. I have to say that our disguises were much better than perfunctory. The news caster noted that Jeremy and Nigel were separated from us but didn't indicate that they had been captured.

Once Cynthia and I calmed down, and I brought some takeout food and beverages into the room, we both finally relaxed for a while. Then some lascivious thoughts entered my mind. Even in her Empore-like poor quality clothing and with a hair color and styling that wasn't suited to her, I suddenly started looking on her as a sex object rather than a super-jerk, as I had previously perceived her. When she said "I'm going to take a shower," and removed her top -- with just her bra covering her tits -- before she entered the bathroom my mind started churning.

Here we were; in a foreign country where every cop or government official -- if not every citizen -- was looking for us. If we were caught it was curtains. I hadn't been laid in three months and on the other side of the bathroom door was a naked woman who even though she had been a super-jerk in the past seemed to be mellowing, and who had a top notch body. Normally, the fact that she was married would have been a factor discouraging me but given the circumstances played no role.

I took off all of my clothes and entered the bathroom. The shower was in a bathtub and unsuitable for fucking, but not for fondling. I opened the curtain and stepped into the bathtub as the shower was running. The sleek, sculptured, naked body in front of me resulted in an instant maximum hard-on.

"What do you think that you're doing?" Cynthia asked in a bored tone, making no attempt to cover her prodigious tits or shaved crotch.

"I need a shower too and I thought why waste water; this cheap hotel probably has a small supply of hot water," was my deadpan reply as my eyes carefully perused her exquisite body.

"Then you can wash my back," she nonchalantly said, turning her back to me and handing me a bar of soap.

I silently washed not only her back but her ass and the back of her legs. She had no indication of protest. After I had cleaned her legs and ass I stood up and wrapped my arms around her torso and started washing her tits. Once I touched a nipple she turned around to face me. She's a tall woman, probably five feet ten inches since it seemed that I was only about three inches taller than she is.

"Sean I know that I can't stop you from fucking me because of your overpowering strength and our situation," she calmly said while staring into my soul, not just my eyes, "but I want you to know that you'll be raping me, since I don't consent."

"That's OK with me," I smiled while shrugging my shoulders. "We're probably going to get caught anyway, and I won't allow myself to be captured and end up in an Empore prison so I'll be dead," I unemotionally replied. She had no reaction as I proceeded to wash her tits. She did jump slightly when I washed her crotch but didn't moan or try to stop me.

As predicted the hot water started giving out so we turned it off and exited the tub. The towels were threadbare but we dried each other off enough so that we wouldn't be soaking the sheets -- at least not with shower water.

Being the caveman that I am I lifted Cynthia's 140 pound body up like she weighed nothing then strolled into the main part of the hotel room and briskly moved the covers down with one arm while holding her with the other, and then gently laid her on the bottom sheet.

"You're a fucking Neanderthal, aren't you Sean," she sneered.

"Oh, Cynthia my dear, I think that I'll do a better job than a Neanderthal," I snickered as I lowered my mouth to her pussy.

I do believe that the first few minutes that I simultaneously penetrated Cynthia's pussy with my fingers, licked her labia, and mauled her tits, Cynthia was trying her best not to react. However, a few minutes as a stoic were all that she lasted. Once I started sucking her clit at the same time that I was lightly twisting both of her nipples she started shaking. By the time that I let her clit slip out of my mouth she was vibrating. When I then shinned up her body, stared not just into her eyes but into her soul just as she had done with me, my cock was throbbing in anticipation.

I slowly buried my cock in her pussy in one deliberate stroke, which caused her eyes to flutter even though she was trying to stare through my eyes. After the first few strokes she wrapped her muscular thighs around my waist. Once she did that all pretense that she wasn't "consenting" rapidly disappeared; unless if this wasn't consent then I'm afraid that she would be too much woman for any man if she did consent.

As she bucked up her hips and I pistoned in and out we kept almost constant eye contact, interrupted only temporarily when one or both of our sets of eyes fluttered. It was only a few minutes of athletic gyrating before her pussy clamped down on my cock with such force that I spontaneously dumped the largest load of seminal fluid in my life into her pulsating pussy.

Cynthia screamed; I grunted; she screamed again; I grunted again; then suddenly it was like both of our spines had been simultaneously removed.

I know that I lost awareness for a time; fortunately I had not completely collapsed onto Cynthia which might have hurt her. When I gained awareness I was over her but supported by my elbows. She was groggy and her eyes involuntarily fluttered. Eventually her eyes opened fully and we stared at each other.

I slowly removed my still three-quarters hard cock from her pussy, we moaned when we disengaged, and I lay next to her, still making eye contact with each other.

After a long pause where we simply made eye contact she mumbled "You fucking rapist. Did you have fun busting your nut Sean?"