Sporting and Spying

"You've never killed a guy in sex, have you?" I asked, seeking assurances. He didn't answer before he was gone up the stairs to the fuck room.

I can't say he didn't give me a change to leave. I'd gotten a taste of how lost to blood-lust he was and how brutal he could be. When he was conscious of it or not, he was giving me an opportunity just to slip out of the garage between those canvas strip and escape his lust. But I was on assignment. I didn't really have a choice.

Twenty minutes later, I had joined him, finding him naked and hugging a bottle of Jack Daniels he'd had in the car and took upstairs with him. I didn't see him in the room when I reached the top of the stairs. He was behind me, though. He grabbed me, turned me with one hand gripping my shoulder, and punched me in the belly. As I was going down, he hit me with an uppercut to the chin. Neither were killing blows, but I wasn't a prize fighter. I had no defenses to offer. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me across the floor to the bed. There, on the big bed that dominated the room, he put me on all fours, mounted me, dominated me, and fucked me hard and vigorously again. I gave him what he wanted, called him the master, surrendered to him, and told him exactly what he wanted to hear about what a dominating animal he was.

Once again, he used what he had--extraordinary thickness rather than length--to the best advantage, trapping my wrists and forcing himself in before I was dilated enough to take him, making me pant and gasp and whimper as he forced me open and used what he had as a battering ram. I whined embarrassingly and begged him to be less rough, knowing that that was exactly what he wanted to hear to justify the Turk in him--the need to win, to dominate, to conquer. I needed to simper and allow myself to be degraded.

He grasped both of my wrists in a beefy hand and held them together with one strong hand, my arms stretched painfully at my back, while he cupped my chin with his other hand, pulling the back of my head into his chest--and ramming, ramming, ramming me with his thick cock. I let him take it all, both because I enjoyed it like this on occasion and because I wanted him to be in a good, open, and unguarded mood for later.

He was only in maybe four inches when he could feel me surrender fully to him, relaxing and collapsing. My torso fell forward, flat onto the bed, the palms of his hands getting under me and clutching and working my pecs, The silkiness of his hairy chest rubbed on my shoulder blades, and the only energy I was expending was to my knees keeping my buttocks elevated enough to accommodate his angle of penetration and aiding me to rock back and forth on his shaft, assuring him that I was fully invested in the fuck.

His lips were close to my ear and he was murmuring a low litany of, "Al onu. Onu bana ver. Take it. Give it to me. I fuck you. Screw you hard, baby."

Four inches of his thickness was enough for me to be lost to him. Giving a little laugh, he turned me onto my butt, hooked my ankles on his shoulders as he hovered over me, rocking on my pelvis, moving his thick cock in and out and around, stretching me to the max, while I lay back, my arms stretched out, my cheek to the sheets, my eyes bugged out and mouth yawning, every nerve in my body concentrating on those four extraordinarily thick four inches working, mastering, owning my passage. Arching my back and grabbing for my cock, I stroked to a finish as he held, hovering over me, clutching, separating, and kneading my buttocks.

With a little cry of "I'm coming," I did. I tried to rise to him then, but he struck me across the face and I collapsed back onto the bed with a sob as he resumed the stroking to his own ejaculation.

Seduction mission or no seduction mission, this was a great fuck. The jury was still out, however, to the question of whether he'd every killed a guy during sex.

After we showered, he drove me over to the nearby Dusit Thani hotel on the opposite corner of Rama IV and Wireless Road from the Royal Thai Military Academy, where we had started that morning, and, at last, bought me a sandwich in the bar as we continued our love affair with Jack Daniels from a bottle. I didn't point out to him that his devotion to American liquor meant I won. He had been conquered by the Americans.

We didn't get around to what I, at least, and maybe Erol Erdegon too, was primarily here for until we had finished refueling in the Dusit Thani bar. I had asked him if he'd ever been to the States and told him that Disneyworld didn't really count, but I'd done so to work in the comment that I'd been to the U.S. Incirlik Airforce base near Adana, Turkey, with the comment that this symbolized how well the United States and Turkey got along. This had played, rather tenuously, I admit, off his comment that we'd been good together in bed and he was interested in going back to the short-term hotel after we'd finished our drinks. He'd paid for the day, which was good up to 6:30 p.m. The cleaners would come in then and the night shift went into effect at 8:00.

"I don't know if I'd survive another trip to that hotel with you," I said.

He just smiled.

He agreed that the United States and Turkey were good allies, which let me get to where I was going.

"But what's this I hear about the Soviets opening up a facility in Turkey up near the Black Sea?"

This was his prompt to pretend like he'd never heard of that and didn't believe it, but I'd pleased him in bed and he wanted to bed me again. He was prompted to be forthcoming to achieve that desire. His defenses down, he came right back with, "That is just part of their man-in-space program--a communications tracking facility to help their manned capsuled get back to earth safely."

"But do you really believe that?" I asked, surprised that he had a quick answer and acknowledged knowing about the facility. "How do you know what they are going to be doing there?"

He laughed and said, "My cousin, Sami, told me all about it. He's a soldier and is being assigned to do security there. It's nothing like America having military bases in Turkey. Where did you hear about it? Did someone at your embassy say something about what was happening there?"

This provided a perfect opening for me to do what else I'd been assigned to do--to drop a name in his lap that he would see as valuable information gathering and I knew was investment.

"Tom Dorning, a political officer, at the embassy told me," I said. "If he's really a political officer," I added.

"A maybe political officer? Do you mean someone from the spy station in your embassy? A CIA agent? Or would you even know these things about who does what in your embassy?" He was goading me into revealing more than an embassy clerk should. I knew how this worked. He was being affectionate now, working my body out of view of others in the bar with his hands, and I was pretending I was lost to him.

"Of course I know about the people doing a different job than their job title said," I answered. "Dorning does seem to be involved in more than just political reporting," I acknowledged--purposely and somewhat innocently, I thought.

From there Erdegon tried to make me interested in going back to the short-term hotel with him. It was tempting and I told him it was, but I told him I had an embassy party to go to that evening and I'd better get back home and rest--that he was such a stud that he had exhausted me.

He let that stand when I added that there was always the next Saturday on the tennis courts at the Royal Thai Military Academy. In the "let's go do it again" discussion, he hadn't mention going back to his apartment. He was married. And I didn't mention going to mine--I was married too. I knew that about him and that fact was going to make it so much easier to blackmail and recruit him; I doubted that he'd bothered to learn that about me. It didn't matter so much about me. My wife worked in the Station and was as much a whore as U.S. interests required as I was.

* * * *

From the Dusit Thani, I retrieved my car from the military academy and drove up Wireless Road to the American Embassy, to meet, by prearrangement, Tom Dorning, a CIA Station agent at the embassy. My JUSMAG boyfriend had reported to the Station that I managed to drive away from the tennis that day with the Turkish Embassy mark. It had been prearranged that, if I managed to snare the Turk, Dorning was to come into the embassy and I would report to him when I could.

It wasn't my job to assess information I'd collected, just to collect and report it, so I was somewhat surprised at how Dorning received what little I thought I'd learned from Erdegon on the new Soviet installation near the Black Sea in Turkey. He was delighted.

"Don't you see?" he said. "If Erdegon knew about the facility and was quick to tell you what he thought was going on there, it's good evidence that it's for space program tracking rather than missile guidance. Otherwise, Erdegon wouldn't have known it was being built and would doubt that it was. He's nowhere close to the 'need-to-know' chain on that."

"I see," I said, only being able to half-way see that as evidence.

"And more important, he knows a Turk who says he'll be involved in security there. If this were part of the Soviet offensive missile program, there's no way they would let Turks do the security--or that Erdegon would be talking about it."

"Ah, yes." I did see the evidence of that.

"And did you manage to bring my name up with Erdegon?"

"Yes, that was easy," I said. "So, are you going to recruit and run him now?"

"Since you've hooked up with him, we were thinking perhaps you could get him hooked for us before I move in. Tennis next Saturday. Did you leave it that you might hook up with him again then?"

"Yes," I said. "He seems to be salivating for it." I didn't really like where this was going, though. I wasn't then so deeply involved in recruitment, and Erdegon was more brutal fuck than I was comfortable taking. Not that I didn't love the fucking; I just wasn't sure I would survive it. Of course, later I was up to my neck in it.

"See if you can say that it's your turn to drive and to pick out a hotel. Go to the one we have a room bugged in. The cameras will pick up the action and we'll have something to blackmail him with. In fact, you said he really wanted to do it again today. Maybe--"

"Maybe not today. Anne and I have someplace to go, and I've been advised not to change my schedules around much not to attract attention." What I really needed was to go a bit slower on this. Also, I wasn't sure I could take this physically. The Turk was really brutal--not that the Station would care. My handlers didn't take my well-being into much account. And I was as blackmailed into doing this as the Turk would end up being.

I'd do it, of course. I was part of my job. But now I'll be more exposed. Turning Erdegon over to Dorning, and Erdegon thinking he'd pulled the name out of me himself, wouldn't put me in the middle of this. If--no, when--I took the Turk to a room where we'd be photographed then he'd be blackmailed to work for the Station, Erdegon would know I was part of the recruitment. "Next Saturday," I said.

I'd been on the job enough this Saturday.

I needed to unwind. I needed something tonight that was my choice. From the embassy compound, I drove back down Wireless, parked in the Dusit Thani garage, which, with my diplomatic tags, was easy enough to do. I walked into the Patpong red light district and went to a gay bar that had a male prostitute massage parlor and brothel in the floors above it.

Kiro Hirowatha, a little Japanese man of nearly fifty, who had magic hands and who owned the place, gave me a big smile when he saw me enter the bar. Kiro was a magician with the massage. He also was a magician in the use of his hands for other pleasures. I lay on his table and after he'd gotten me mellow with his deep massage, I felt his hand wrap around my erection, and I lay there and moaned. I was purring and completely relaxed when he'd gotten me off with his hands and then climbed up onto my prone body, mounted me, and rode my ass to heaven.

I was quite sure that Kiro wasn't attached to any of the world's intelligence agencies. But, then again, who could be sure of that?