I Spy With My Little Eye

I punched out her number and heard her crisp "Hello".

"Not fair, Laura," I protested. "My pictures will be taken on a timer by my digital camera and may well be out of focus, your pictures are superb, professional jobs."

"I kept my side of the bargain, Mr Spy," she snapped. "Now put up or shut up." And the line went dead.

Well, she had a point, I guess. I got out the digital camera, set it up on a stool and pulled on a white satin thong by Frederick's of Hollywood. It contrasted superbly against my tan, cupped my balls tight and allowed my cock to lay across the front in what I hoped would be an outline of eye-popping semi-stiffness.

I took a full frontal picture, then a three-quarter side shot to reveal my tanned, toned butt, then a naked full frontal. My cock was stiff as a policeman's nightstick by now.

I checked 'em out. All were sharp enough, so I loaded 'em into the computer and fired off the email. Ten minutes later, I called her.

"Get round here, and make sure you've got that Krug with you," she snapped.

Well, of course it could have been a trap. But hey, I'm an ex-Navy Seal, I can handle myself, I'll take the chance. I splashed some Envy for Men, by Gucci, on my face, pulled on a pair of white Polo by Ralph Lauren shorts – so white they almost made you squint – and a Tommy Hilfiger "Hawaii" T-shirt, the one with the Hawaiian islands above the logo. Very touristy, but I like it.

On my feet I slipped near-new Sperry TopSiders, and strapped my Omega Seamaster on my wrist. From the kitchen hook I took the Daytona's keys – this was definitely not a job for the Datsun!

I wheeled into her large yard in front of the house and heard the gates behind me clicking shut. Well, if she was surrounded by a bunch of goons, I'd soon find out. I climbed from the Daytona, walked as casually as I could to the front door and heard the doorbell chimes – it sounded like the start to Beethoven's fifth symphony, but then I could have been wrong.

The door swung open and there stood Ms Magnificent, still clad only in her PVC bikini and high heels. She looked even more superb up close, her face was hard, perhaps, but had once been beautiful. She was wearing too much mascara, but hey, who gives a fuck?

"Peace offering," I grinned, in my most winning smile, handing her the chilled bottle of Krug. "Sorry I didn't dress up like you," I tried to make a feeble little joke.

She stepped back and let me in. "I was going to put on a shirt and jeans," she said, "but it's so warm here in Honolulu and you've seen everything there is to see, so I thought what the hell. Come in."

In her sumptuous kitchen I sat on a barstool. "What's your poison?" she asked, stowing the Krug in her fridge.

"I'm a Grey Goose man," I replied. She sniffed.

"Over-priced and over-praised," she said. "Have an Absolut – half the price, twice the taste. Or, if you're a real vodka drinker, you can have a Stolichnaya straight."

"Too tough for me," I laughed. "Absolut and tonic's fine."

As she poured our drinks, Laura looked archly at me. "OK, buster, time you levelled with me. How'd you get my number – and cut the land registry crap. Dad's still the registered landowner, he owns the house and the land, only he's gone back to retire in Boston."

"What's he a doctor of?" I asked, thinking what my response should be.

"He used to lecture on philosophy at Princeton," she said. "Now, how'd you get the number?"

I decided in the old "honesty is the best policy" ploy and explained everything. The phoney "wrong address" trick, finding her name, the whole deception.

"And your line of work, as if I couldn't guess," she said. "You're a cop, right?"

I shook my head. "Nope, a private investigator."

"Christ, I could have done with you a year ago," she sighed. I relaxed a tad.

"How come?" I asked, sipping on the Absolut. It wasn't bad, but it was no Grey Goose.

"Marriage went belly up," she said. "The fuckin' private dick I hired was incompetent. The divorce I'm going through is a mess."

I raised an eyebrow, and she ploughed on.

"The bastard left me for his office girl. She's 18, an improbably busty blonde. He even sent me an email with a video attached of her going down on him! I'm not a big cocksucker."

Then she laughed again. "I mean, I'm not huge on sucking cocks."

It was my turn to laugh. "And you're here on holiday?" I asked.

"Dad's lent me the house for a couple of months just to get away from it all," she said. "I've been here a fortnight and just mooch around, I'm not into the social scene, clubs, eating out.

"So I lay around here in the nude all day – as you've seen." Then she paused. "And I drink vodka all day ..."

Then her voice trailed away and she began to sob.

I didn't know what to do, so I did the gentlemanly thing and stood up and put my arms around her quivering back. She slipped off her stool and pressed her face into my chest and howled. Her body was firm and warm against mine.

I stroked her hair, saying silly things like "It's all right baby". Stuff like that. Hey, I'm a private dick, not a poet, for crying out loud.

Then she pulled away and looked at my T-shirt. "Oh, sorry," she sniffled, "I've got gunge all over Tommy."

I looked down and saw enough mascara on my shirt to supply the entire Dallas Cowboys cheerleader squad. "Forget it," I said, pulling the messed up T-shirt off.

She stepped against me and ran her hands over my upper back. It's a finely chiselled upper back, I can tell you. Then she stepped back again and moved past me towards the door into the hallway.

"Walk this way," she smiled.

"Well, I'll try," I said, "but you've had years of practice."

She looked back at me over her shoulder. "Hey," she said, "that's not W.C. Fields – that's Groucho Marx." The tears were still streaming down her face, but she was smiling. Make 'em laugh, remember?

Upstairs in her bedroom she flicked her fingers at me. "Get out of that stuff and get up here," she said, slipping out of her high heels and climbing onto the bed, before leaning over and pulling a tissue from a bedside table box and cleaning her eyes.

I lay beside her in my white satin thong. She bent over and calm as you like slipped it away from my groin. The eight-inches I have down there couldn't control himself, of course, and pointed directly to my chin. She bent lower, planted a very tentative kiss on his lips, then sucked him, slowly, then pulled away.

"Sorry, Mr Spy," she said, "I'm not really into that. I far prefer it the other way round."

I leaned across her body and started to pull her bikini thong down, but she placed firm hands on my shoulders and pushed me away. "Down, Mr Spy, down," she said, "I prefer to be on top."

Then she arranged the two big pillows on the bed so they were lined up pointing down the bed. I fell back onto them, my upper torso and my head quite high off the mattress.

Laura shucked off the thong and placed one knee against my right armpit, then swung across me until her right knee was snuggled against my left armpit. Now, in even more detail than I'd seen through the binoculars, I could see her stunning pussy.

I first kissed the crinkly little thatch of black pubic hair on her mons, while cupping her heavenly buttocks in both hands. Then I licked my way down from the thatch to her clit – it was hard – then down between her lush labia lips to her cunt.

It was heaven there. She was dripping sex juice and it tasted tangy. An aroma that only a mature, on heat woman can exude, invaded my nostrils. Then I delved deep down her sex, my tongue seeking, then finding her musky anus.

From above me, Ms Magnificent let out a sharp hiss, followed by an exclamation: "Oh god, I love that, please don't stop. That's so arousing."

I had no intention of stopping. As my nose buried itself between her lush labia, inhaling her sexual perfume, my tongue worked its way into the outer lips of her anus, tasting the brackish flavor, licking hungrily. She tasted so hot!

Finally, though, I had to pull out and work back to her cunt, otherwise I'd have passed out through lack of oxygen. My tongue again worked into her cunt, still dripping wet, still smelling so sweet. Then I lifted my game to her clit and began to suck and nibble on it prior to what had to be an early orgasm.

Ms Magnificent was thrusting on my face now, humping me with her groin, face fucking me with her marvellous minge. I tasted every salty sweet-smelling blob of moisture and soon she was sobbing, then screaming at the arrival of her climax.

"Oh yes, Mr Spy, yes, keep licking it, I'm coming, don't stop, don't fuckin' stop," she implored.

As if I had any intention of stopping!

Then, with a grunting gasp, she fell away from me, pressing her steamy pussy firmly against my right shoulder, shuddering on me as her climax subsided and faded away.

She lay down beside me and I saw her glorious globes standing firm against my mid-chest, the nipples pressing their suckable erections onto me. She had obviously removed her bra during our cunnilingual congress.

Laura leaned over and kissed me on the nose, then wrinkled her own nose up. "Ooooh, you smell so, ooh, so smelly!" she said.

"It's the most wonderful smell in the world," I said, kissing her hungrily on the mouth.

Then I pressed my cock against her thigh and whispered in her ear: "My turn now, I think."

Ms Magnificent smiled at me and said: "Sure, but for our first fuck I want it to be the missionary. I know I'm a prude, but it's my favorite way."

She'd get no arguments from me, I thought, as I climbed on board, pardon the nautical term. Her cunt was still sopping wet from my oral adoration and my cock slid into a velvety-smooth vagina like it was made for me. She lifted her thighs and planted her heels on my buttocks and I started to ride her smoothly to a climax.

I was so tense and so intent on enjoying myself that I didn't give a fuck if I came quickly. "I'm gonna come quick, that OK with you, Ms Magnificent?" I whispered in her hot ear as I pumped up and down on her toned, tanned figure.

"Fine, Mr Spy," she said, with a big smile, "we've got all day for you to slow down."

And that did it for me. I kissed her warmly on her lovely large lips and pumped my seed deep into her, grunting loudly as I felt my spunk shoot from me and into her vagina.

She allowed me a soft cuddle for a while as my cock went limp on me, then she slid out from under me. In the shower, we soaped each other and kissed like schoolkids. Then we towelled down and I went downstairs to fetch the two Absoluts.

Back on the bed, sipping the vodkas, I asked: "Why did you let me visit? Why even allow me to chat you up?"

Laura took a deep draught on her Absolut and eyed me up and down.

"It was a combination of things. First the sheer audacity. Then your voice. It's a deep voice, it's not a creepy voice. And you made me laugh.

"I used to do research for a behavioural scientist – well, two of them, actually, they were working on a book together. In the research I learned quite a lot.

"With phone creeps, either just obscene perverts who want to masturbate while they speak, or really creepy bastards who want to rape or strangle, there are certain buzz words, certain timbres of voice inflexion.

"You had none of them. You sounded sane, although, of course, that can be faked. You sounded about my age, although that can be faked, too.

"And I'm in such a mess with my life, I've not had a fuck in months, no make that a year. I don't get out to meet people. I thought I'd take a chance with you. I was right. I guess I was just lucky."

With that she drained her Absolut, then knelt on the bed, gripping the headboard, her knees wide, displaying her gorgeous ass and pussy to my gaze.

"I love it when you go down there, Mr Spy. Do it again and then take me from the rear," she ordered.

Who was I to refuse?

This time I started at her rosebud anal passage. It was no longer so musky, following the shower, but I licked and kissed her until it was again very moist, then I pressed my tongue an inch or two into her. Again she hissed her pleasure at this anal penetration.

Then I moved my tongue up to her lovely cunt, which had again begun to leak sex juice, the same sweet tasting flow that I had experienced before. Now if only you could bottle that, you'd become a real competitor for Grey Goose!

As my tongue laved at her cunt, my nose was close to her anus, then as I moved between her labia lips and began to suck on her clitoris, my nose buried into her asshole, inhaling a faint trace of musk. I panted at my work, breathing through my mouth as my nostrils were blocked by her buttocks flesh, then she writhed and moaned as she came again.

The cries and whimpers of her second orgasm were continuing as I rose and placed my cock against her still-wet anus. I probed her, sensing she might react to an anal intrusion, but she pushed against me, and then I slid the first two or three of my eight inches into her back passage.

I felt her sigh again and her body relax, then I drove up her, my pubic bone banging against the bottom curves of her ass as I entered her fully. I moved my hands up and cupped her sensationally heavy but firm breasts, tweaking her lovely nipples between thumb and forefinger as I do so.

This time I managed to control my animal urges much better and for five minutes I pounded her ass, long strokes, short, jerky strokes, and then the surge of ejaculate flowed through me and I pumped seed deep into her.

My cock fell from her back passage with a "plop" and we lay back, sweating and exhausted on the bed.

Now it was my turn to answer her queries about my Seal experiences in the navy, then we went downstairs, both still naked, Laura in her high heels, though, and she prepared a lunch of smoked fish sandwiches, olives and capers, little wedges of white bread with caviar and the bottle of Krug.

Then she dragged me upstairs again. I say "dragged", hell, I wasn't protesting.

We made love again, missionary position, then I pulled out before ejaculation and laid back to allow her to kneel above me for her orgasm.

After she had panted to her pussy-pleasuring climax, I had a question: "I know you don't like going down, but will you permit me a tit fuck, Ms Magnificent?"

"Well, Mr Spy," she smiled, "I've just enjoyed another great Big O, so it would be churlish of me to refuse. But don't expect me to suck you down, I'm not into that."

I kissed her gently on the mouth. "No sweat," I smiled, "I'll just spray your throat with my sweet-tasting jism. You don't know what you're missing, Ms Magnificent."

She punched me lightly on the chest. "Oh shut the fuck up and get on with it, Mr Spy!" she said, lying back and waiting for me to mount her mammaries.

I placed my eight inches between her lush 36-inch breasts and pushed up towards her throat. As I did, Ms Magnificent cupped her glorious globes with her palms, pushed inwards and trapped my cock between her breasts.

As I moved up, the tension between the twin peaks dragged my foreskin back almost to the ring, in a deliciously erotic move. Then, on the down slide, the foreskin slipped back to cover my helmet. It was a sensational feeling and soon I couldn't hold back.

With a grunting cry of "Here I come, Ms Magnificent" my cock splattered three sprays of spunk onto her chest, just below her throat.

After another clean-up in the shower, we lay back, exhausted, looking up at the ceiling and the fan as it made its lazy way around and around above us, sending slight wisps of breeze down onto our naked bodies.

"Tell me about your office, how many people you employ? What do they do?" she asked.

"Well," I began, "there's Miranda the office manager. Her father was a minor criminal here in Honolulu and she's got terrific contacts in the crime scene, and also with the Honolulu PD. She's also street smart, is part-Hawaiian and gorgeous. Naturally she wants my body."

Laura laughed and punched me in the ribs. "Every woman does, you egomaniac," she laughed. "How old?"

"She's 26, so she's far too young for me," I told her.

"Then there's Dean – we call him Deano, though," I said. "He's another part-Hawaiian who is our skip tracer."

She frowned: "Skip tracer?"

"Lots of people skip town leaving behind all sorts of bills. Deano can pick up a phone and work it like a conductor works a symphony orchestra. He can trace people just by using his skills on the phone. To listen to him is like listening to a Beethoven symphony," I said, remembering her door chimes.

"Oh yes, that fucking door chime of dad's," she grimaced, "it's got to go.

"So that's it? The girl and the skip tracer? And you?"

"And Mr Fyffe," I said. "We call him Mr Fyffe because I've never bothered to find out his first name. He's monosyllabic but he could follow you in your car all week and you wouldn't have a clue you're being tailed. He's indispensable."

"It all sounds fascinating," said Ms Magnificent, stroking a cool nail down my chest to my cock. "Much more interesting than behavioural science."

"I don't know," I said. "I reckon with your experience, I could find a job for you in the outfit. That's if you're interested, of course."

She looked me straight in the eye. "Now that's one of the nicest propositions I've heard in ages, Mr Spy. You know I think I might take you up on that."

I kissed her on the nose, feeling my cock starting to surge again. "The offer will always be open, Ms Magnificent," I said, taking her into my arms, then lowering my mouth to her astounding tits.

"And please stop calling me 'Ms Magnificent', the name's Laura," she said, as I sucked her nipples to erection.

"OK," I said, "but only if you stop calling me 'Mr Spy'."

"But you're my secret agent," she pouted, as I resumed licking her breasts, while one hand probed her sex trench. It was seeping sex juice!

"You're my James Bond-type – Bond was ex-Navy, wasn't he?" she asked.

"He certainly was, Miss Moneypenny," I said, attempting my not-too-good imitation of Sean Connery's Bond accent.

"Then I'll call you 007," said Laura, as I mounted her and slid my cock deep into her cunt.

"In view of how well I'm hung," I said, "you'd better make that 008!"

Laura pealed off into laughter so intense I thought I'd get dislodged from her pussy.

"Shut up and fuck me," she grinned.

See what I mean? Make 'em laugh!