Homeland Security

Randall heaved his carry-on bag on to the conveyor belt, slipped his laptop out of its cover, and placed it with his belt and other loose items in a plastic tray.

He was early for the flight to Denver, but it was better that way. Gave you time to do people-watching. Girl watching. For a moment he visualised the blonde last night at the Valley club. Just right, thin and a little bony, the way he liked them. She had accepted the bonds, but he could tell that she did not really like to be dominated.

Domination was what he liked. Last night's girl did not like it, but she needed the money. He smiled. That gave him a sense of power. Control. That was where he wanted to be.

That little shiver when he penetrated her, and she was unable to react, that was a tell-tale. He touched himself, smiling at the memory.

The metal detector was silent. Sometimes it reacted to something, maybe the fillings in his teeth. His bag was still in the machine, the operator was staring at the screen. Oh damn. The machine often picked up something suspicious, but there was nothing. Maybe the frame or the wheels? He should get a new one.

She looked at him. A dark, well-padded woman. Not his type at all, too voluptuous. The uniform blouse did emphasise her ample bosom. She gestured at her colleague to take over the screen.

"Your bag? Open please." He did so, noting her husky voice, her air of command. Definitely not his type. She snapped gloves on her hands, the rubber making a suggestive sound.

She glanced at him. "Mind if I look? Anything you want to say now?"

He shook his head, and, as she bent down to examine the contents of his bag he noticed the blouse open, exposing her cleavage. Nice firm breasts, moving against the thin fabric. No bra? Her jacket was spread over the back of the chair. Well, a show to pass the time.

She moved her hands expertly along the sides, under the packed clothes, and he watched her breasts move as the muscles underneath worked. Nice. He moved a little to one side and was rewarded by a glimpse of a dark aureola. Getting better!

He moved a little more to get a better look, easing his crotch as his hard-on began to strain against his jeans. Her movements stopped. He glimpsed the quivering nipple, then looked up, into dark brown eyes. Furious eyes. She stood up and commanded: "Arms up. Legs spread."

Coming around the table she stood behind him and expertly patted him down. Neck, back, waist, sides of the legs, ankles, up between the legs, then his front. A hand brushed his erection and she stilled.

"In there. With your bag. Move!"

He scurried into the examination cubicle, not knowing what to say. Not knowing how to regain control. She entered behind him, her face drawn with anger. The latch clicked.

"Strip to your underclothes. Now!"

He complied, wondering what was happening. Surely she had not seen him looking at her breasts? And if so... But he had better comply. She stalked around him, looking up and down his body. Her warmth behind him and her musky scent betrayed her closeness. She asked: "Any concealed weapons?"

Her hands, now without the latex gloves, brushed the front of his boxers, his now flaccid penis. "What are you hiding?"

Her hand entered his waistband, grasped him. Her other hand pushed the boxers down. "What do we have here? Rather small, isn't he?"

She moved around and he saw that she was unbuttoning her blouse. One hand grasped him firmly, making small pumping movements, the other was drawing her blouse open. "Were you staring at these? Mmmm? Do you like looking down people's blouses? Are you that sort of person?"

"Excuse, me, madam, I am sorry... "

Despite himself he felt his penis stiffen in her strong hand. The two breasts jiggled as she pumped him. "You will be!"

"Ah, look, I won't..."

"I am sure you will. Look at this. Definitely a concealed offensive weapon. You are in trouble, buddy!"

He gasped, spasms already coursing through his body. "No, look, I can explain... Its not..."

Her laugh was husky. "Of course you can explain. They all say that. What were you thinking? Wanted to play with them? Come, touch them. Move when I tell you!"

He groaned, then cupped the two breasts, feeling the nipples rise to his touch. He massaged them. He usually preferred small breasts, even immature ones, but these were full sized, real woman's breasts. He felt her hands kneading him, one hand fondling his balls. He looked into her dark eyes, and groaned.

"Oh no, you don't do that. Naughty boy! You will obey orders!" Her hand grasped his balls, pulling them, cutting off the beginning of his orgasm. He gasped and staggered back against the door.

She held on to him, then turned. "You can make up for that in one way. On your knees. There, take my panties down. Quick, now."

He did as she ordered, reaching under her tight skirt. Her large, sensible panties were tight around her ample hips, but the crotch was damp. He tugged them down, and she lifted the skirt, leaning back against the table and ordering: "Lick me, buddy."

He hated hairy women, and for a moment hesitated at the sight of her bush, split by the red of her inner lips. She reached forward and grabbed his hair. "Did you hear me? Or should I get the handcuffs on you? Lick me, and make a good job of it."

He did as ordered, sinking his tongue into her yielding wetness, tasting the womanness, the slightly vinegary depth of her vagina. His tongue found the hardness of her clitoris, and she sighed at the stimulation. For a moment he thought he had found the means of control, then she ordered: "Enough. On your feet."

He did so, and she grasped his erection that had lost something of its rigidity.

He looked down at her hand, pumping him, but also at the sight of her legs spread wide, inviting him into her dark-ringed depths. She tugged him forward, setting his tip against her lips. "Come now, move, buddy, we don't have all day."

He pushed in response to the thrust of her hands, feeling her warmth enveloping him. Her vagina grasped at him, pulsing at his entry, seeming to milk him. Her head fell back, and she arched her body, lifting her magnificent breasts, the nipples hard and straining. He grasped one, rubbing it between his fingers, and them he went over the top, coming into her, trying to drive his semen into the depths of her womb.

He arched his back, expelling the last of his come into her, then fell on to her sweating body, the last spasms ripping through him. She waited a moment, then pushed him up.

"Enough of that. Now make me come. Get to it, buddy."

He fumbled at her clit, and she shook her head. "Not enough, you had your fun. Now, lick me as if you mean it. Like that. And a finger inside. Good. Now, more!"

He tasted her juices mingled with his, and for a moment he considered walking out, but he had no choice. He closed his eyes and thrust his tongue into her heat, her throbbing vagina. She lifted to his mouth, opening wider, one hand going behind his head to mash his face against her. Then he felt her pulsing against him as her breath went ragged. He felt her muscles pulling at his tongue, sucking at him, building to a peak, then slacking away. She held him against her for long seconds, then sat up.

"You are good, buddy. Hand me that towel. Now get yourself dressed, there's a good boy. Where did you say you were going?"

"Denver." He tugged his clothes into position, noticing how quickly she re-arranged her skirt, stepping into the panties, tucking the buttoned blouse neatly inside the waistband.

She gave a hint of a smile as she unlatched the door.

"You are good to go, buddy. I think I'll give Denise a call. She does arrivals in Denver."