The Trap: From 'Bridget's Days'

Falling from the sky were three helicopters. Two were marked "FBI" and were crowded with armed and armored men. The third was marked "Sheriff's Department" and had a familiar figure hanging out of the door with an M16 in his right hand.

"Nooooooooooooooo," screamed that damned voice. I fell to the ground as bullets barely missed me. I rolled frantically as I felt more than saw more impacts around me. Oh GOD, it wasn't fair. To have my Mike leading the cavalry to the rescue and fall to this madman at the last moment. I squinted through eyes stinging from the dust and gravel and saw the figure racing towards me. I extended my pistol, locked in both outstretched hands, and fired the last rounds.

For an instant I thought I had missed. Then the man fell to his knees. He put one hand down, trying to steady himself and hold the wavering rifle muzzle on me. His eyes glaring at me in hatred, he finally fell forward and lay still.

I tried to stand. Around me FBI agents were disarming the gunmen. My legs were wobbly. Then a wonderfully strong arm was around me and Mike was scooping me in his arms and carrying me to the chopper.

Hours later I was back in our house. I had been carried to a local hospital and checked out before going to the nearest Federal building where NOT to my surprise, my oldest friend Robert Dale was waiting.

"Bridget, you've been a very bad girl," he sighed. He dropped a picture on the desk. I picked it up. It was the man.

"This is, or rather was, Nyguen Van Vann. He was the Third Secretary of the Vietnamese delegation to the United Nations. As such, he had full diplomatic immunity and normally everyone in the world would be very upset at your killing him. However, his actions went a bit farther than can be overlooked so the general consensus is that the whole incident never happened."

"Who was his father?" I asked quietly.

"A Lieutenant Colonel in the NVA. You met him in your guise as 'Rolling Stone' reporter. I looked up your report on the matter."

I nodded. There was no point in going over that again. The Colonel had thought I should show my appreciation for his heroic struggle against fascism, as well his generosity in allowing himself to be interviewed, by my spreading my legs for him. When I tried to gracefully refuse, he tried to use force and that was the end of the Colonel.

"How his son discovered how his father met his end I don't know if we will ever find out. As diplomats generally do, he was acting as an Intelligence Officer and it seems he somehow got to someone in the Agency records facility. We'll find out who that was. He learned the details about the incident and went to work finding you and then setting you up."

"Its strange," Robert paused. "He was able to accumulate the funds to try this; hire the gunmen, get the automatic weapons and wooden bullets because of the softening attitudes in the Socialist Republic of Vietnam towards capitalism. He was deeply involved in the burgeoning tourist trade and was making a lot of money."

"Yet he screamed slogans at me like a full-blown Marxist."

Robert nodded. "He also never picked up on the fact that you are human again."

"Thank GOD for that," I said. "If he had know the children were mine, that Mike and I are really husband and wife..." I shuddered at the thought.

Speaking of thoughts, I had another one. "How did you all find me?"

"I got your cut-off message. Knowing you as I do, I figured you were in trouble, as always." The glare I directed at him bounced right off. "I contacted Mike and he rushed home, where he found the directions you had left. Then it was simply marshalling the troops and getting there."

I managed to stand up. "This as all well and good, but now I want to go home."

Mike carefully walked me to the Jackson County helicopter and strapped me in tightly. I leaned against him and dozed off and on until we were on the ground by the Department. He put me in his cruiser, which had been parked nearby and drove us home. Once there I followed him into the bedroom where he began rummaging for clean clothes in my dresser.

"Oh God, Mike. All I want is to go to bed."

"I know, sweetheart." He hesitated and I saw him make a valiant attempt to smother a grin. "But you really should consider taking a bath first."

Oh dear. I walked over to the mirror. How bad could I... Eeekkkkkk!

The person looking out of the mirror at me belonged to a hag. Not just that, but one who had been made up to perform in an old-time Vaudeville show. My stringy hair hung down in front of my face. Everything was streaked with dirt, that is, where dried mud patches didn't cover me. I pawed at my hair, trying to push it back and only succeeded in rearranging the dirt to cover the only bit of red that had been making a last stand against turning black. My clothes were torn and as filthy as my face.

I turned a glare on my husband. He paid no more attention to it that Robert had to the one I had directed at him. "You let me sit in that FBI Office looking like THIS?"

"I wanted you to finish your debrief and bring you home." He took three steps and caught me up in his arms, crushing me to him and kissed me soundly. "Now then," he said as he released me, "Go take that bath!"

I did. This time my fingers behaved themselves. When I finally came out of the shower, my dirty clothes were gone. I wrapped one towel around me and wound another one over my hair. Then I stood there, just about too tired to do anything else.

Two arms circled me, lifting me from my feet. I leaned my head back on a familiar shoulder as Mike carried me to bed. He simply laid back on the mattress and held me as I drifted off to sleep.

I think I woke up twice, unsure of where I was and afraid I was back in the mine complex. Both times the firm arms around me and the hushed words lulled me back to sleep. When I awoke for good, the sun was shining and soft snores were tickling the side of my neck.

I giggled to myself. Mike's arms still firmly held me. And that wasn't the only thing I felt that was firm. Something was very firm indeed against my bottom. I twisted slightly and looked up at my husband. Sound asleep and with a hard-on that if I shifted a couple of inches would be right up inside me.

That was an interesting thought. Sometime in the intervening hours I had lost both my towels. Mike was sleeping, as he usually did except when I relieved him of them, in his boxer shorts. And from the feel of him against my skin, his cock had worked its way through the front opening.

Carefully I moved one leg sideways and used it to lift my body just a bit. I settled back down on him. Except now his shaft was firmly positioned along the cleft of my ass. I began to move my hips ever so slightly, feeling him begin to slide up and down. I moved a bit faster, biting back a moan as I felt the head of his cock brush over my anal ring. I hiked myself up a bit more. Now he was moving along my perineum, then the bottom of my slit. For an instant the head rested between my labia and against the opening of my pussy. Then I slid back down again until I felt him back at my rosette.

Mike's cock was getting slick with my wetness. I flexed my ass muscles, gripping him for a moment. I was tempted to rise up and see if I could sit back on his cock fast enough to have him in my ass before he woke. But the feeling of him rubbing back and forth was too good, the excitement of where I was going to take him too strong, for me to decide.

The decision was taken away from me. I had been so focused on me that I hadn't noticed that Mike's snoring had stopped. My first clue he was awake was when his hands covered my breasts. He shifted so that I was now laying right on top of him, my legs spread apart. Lips were tugging at my ear lobe and I shivered as his fingers gripped my nipples.

"Now just how long did you think you were going to get away with this?" He mock-growled in my ear, just before his tongue dipped into it. I strove to regain control of the situation but failed as one hand remained on my breast but the other slid down to the swell of my mound and trapped me against him. His cock was laying between my ass cheeks and his hips were beginning to push up.

Mike's hand moved further, covering me. His index finger curled, parting my lips and entering me. The heel of his hand pressed down and began to rub against my still hidden clit.

Now this WAS a ridiculous position. I rocked my hips harder, squirming up and down, trying to get Mike's cock positioned so that I could get it into me. I didn't care where. But my infuriating husband moved with me, even as he sank a second finger into my pussy. He spread them slightly and flexed his hand, pushing back onto my still concealed but already aching clit, then forward to drive his fingers deeper.

"Mike," I gasped. "Michael, Michael, Michael!" His only response was to move faster, his other hand clamping firmly on my breast. By now I was begging. "Michael Gibson, please. PLEASE!"

Then his hands shifted, catching me under my arms and lifting me. Darn show-off. Just because he's so strong and in control and thinks he's the master of any situation and oh GOD, he lowered me right down onto the head of his cock. I managed to get my legs under me so I was kneeling over him. I hoped to maintain at least a little control.

That hope was vain. As soon as Mike dropped me onto him I went wild. I bounced up and down on top of him. Each time I rose farther than Mike judged he wanted me to, his hands gripped my hips and yanked me right back down, thrusting up at the same time. I felt like I was being spitted and I loved it. Other than cupping my breasts, I gave up doing anything but enjoying what Mike was doing to me.

It didn't take long. As excited as I was, I was already on the edge. I managed to hang on until I heard the strangled grunt from Mike that heralded his cock emptying in me. Then I arched on top of my guy, feeling the wonderful rush of my orgasm.

Sighing happily I stretched back out against Mike, his cock slipping from me. I cuddled and was surprised when he sat up, with me in his lap. I swung my legs to one side as he wrapped me up in his arms and looked me in the eyes.

"Bridget, I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mike."

"I just have one thing to say about this whole thing."

"Yes?"

Suddenly Mike flipped me over onto my tummy. I kicked my legs in surprise, my arms waving from the other side of his legs. Then I realized what he was going to do.

"MICHAEL GIBSON! Don't you DARE!"

Smack! My husband work-hardened hand fell on my upraised bottom. Smack! Again. Smack! Again and again "If you ever, Ever, EVER take off like that again without letting someone know where the hell you are going," his hand fell on my ass harder and faster. "I will spank you until your pretty little butt is red and don't you think I won't do it!" Smack, smack, SMACKKKK!

I twisted and turned as I realized just how scared he had been. And it really didn't hurt. Well, not much. In fact...

To make a long story short he ended up spanking me quite a bit before I finally got loose and attacked him. Okay, that was when I finally decided to try, I was, after all, having a lovely time and I was so darn wet by then I was afraid I was going to slide off his knees. We made love twice more before we had to call it quits from sheer exhaustion and get something to eat before climbing back into bed.

By the way, nine months after the adventure of those two nights, Mike and my last child, our son Sean, was born. Well, you know what they call people who use the rhythm method. Parents. So I wasn't paying attention to my cycle. But who cares?

(The End)