Message-ID: <28348asstr$979146606@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <200101092148.f09Lmim26289@fozzie.webservepro.com> From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat) X-No-Productlinks: Yes Subject: {ASSM} The Russians Are Coming 3/4 (MF oral mild bd) Date: Wed, 10 Jan 2001 12:10:06 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: IceAltar, RuiJorge, newsman Her lips were cool from the ice but tasted smoky from her cigarette. It was a strange sensation, made stranger by the hint of the soft warm tip of her tongue. When there lips parted, Maytag found himself looking into her dark eyes to avoid staring down the front of her blouse. Either way he was doomed. Meekly, he tried to stop the affair. "I don't think this is a good idea, Nadezhda" he said. "Why?" Nadezhda asked. "Am I not interesting yet?" Somehow she had a hold of his hands and she placed them on the back of her legs. She guided his hands along her thighs, and he felt the grainy hose give way to smooth bare skin, which gave way to slippery panties stretched over a round ass. They kissed again. Maytag leaned back until his shoulders touched the bed. Nadezhda straddled him. She broke their embrace and nuzzled her nose against his neck. He felt her breath against his skin, and then her tongue against his ear. "Get your legs on the bed," she told him. Maytag swung his legs onto the bed, and moved his head to the pillows. Nadezhda slid down until her face was at his waist. She pulled his shirttails out of his pants, and unbuckled his pants. She pulled them off and made no comment about his handgun. She let the trousers fall gently to the ground. Then moved so that her crotch covered Maytag's face. Maytag caught only the barest scent of her slit, and stared at the smooth insides of her thighs. He wanted to lick at her, and craned his neck to do so. "Eager," Nadezhda said. "I like." She pinned his hands to the headrest and pushed her twat against his mouth, ribbing herself along his chin. Maytag mumbled enthusiasm. "Very eager," Nadezhda said. "It makes this difficult." Maytag did not exactly hear that, as Nadezhda's thighs muffled his ears. But he didn't need to hear the clicking noise to know it came from handcuffs. He could feel them on his wrists. Maytag tried to move but it was too late. Nadezhda was off of him in a quick movement, and he was bound to the bed. "Sorry, Zherry," she said. "But I must do this." "My guh--" Maytag stammered before catching himself. Suddenly we was very nervous. His cock receded faster than it had been growing. He hadn't finished the words, but Nadezhda knew what he meant to say. "Silly boy," she said. "I have my own." She produced a pistol from her jacket. She did pick up his pants, though. "I will take this, though. And I have work to do." FOUR As Stanton returned to the hotel, a slightly different version of the previous day's events unfurled. The day before, outside a dilapidated hotel, Stanton heard shots, then saw a man run out of the hotel followed by a woman. This time, outside an impeccable Chicago hotel, as Stanton approached she saw the same man walking into the hotel. She took a few quick steps to catch up to her target. Stanton entered the lobby and now saw the same woman advancing toward the man. It was if the sequence had been run in reverse. "Smerov!" the woman called. The man turned to face Stanton and the brunette produced a handgun from somewhere. It seemed the sequence might play forward again. This time, however, Stanton was not caught off guard. She dropped the trousers she had been carrying and drew her own weapon. A bystander noticed the guns and shouted. The Russian man certainly saw and tried to run out of the hotel, but Stanton stood in his way. He found himself between two pistol wielding brunettes. "FBI!" Stanton called "Get down!" The other woman yelled something in Russian. "I--" the man stammered. "Get down!" Stanton yelled. He dropped to his knees. She turned her attention to the other woman. "Now you! Put the weapon down!" "You put your gun down," Nadezhda said plainly. Stanton calmly announced, "I am Special Agent Heather Stanton of the FBI. This man is an operative of the Russian Government. Put your weapon down now." "Russian operative?" Nadezhda repeated, puzzled. "This man is Russian criminal." It was Stanton's turn to be confused. It was worse when the man on the ground started shouting "She is lying! Stop her! Shoot her!" Stanton looked at the woman. "This man is Valerii Patrikov, a Russian policeman." "This man is Pavel Smerov, criminal. He smuggles women illegally to work as prostitutes. I am Nadezhda Skaya of MVD. Valerii Patrikov is my partner and he is waiting in car outside. We are here to arrest fugitive." "Oh, shit," Stanton said under her breath. "Prove it. Put down the weapon and show me ID." She decided not to ask this Russian to take off her pants this time. Besides, she was wearing a dress. "You won't let him go?" Nadezhda asked. "It's all a trick!" the man shouted. "Lie face down and keep quiet," Stanton said. She faced the desk, "Someone call the police!" "We did," called a voice from behind the desk. Stanton hadn't noticed, but everyone in the lobby had fallen to the floor long before. Nadezhda put her pistol on the floor. "Kick it away," Stanton ordered. "Do you carry handcuffs?" she asked. "Yes," Nadezhda answered. Then she remembered where they were. "But not now." "Damn!" Stanton said. Her cuffs were also occupied elsewhere. "This is big misunderstanding." the man said. "Shut up!" Stanton and Nadezhda both said at the same time. "We have restraints back in the office," a voice said from behind the desk. "OK, listen! This is Agent Stanton of the FBI speaking. Things here are under control. Just come out with the restraint and you can go back to behind the desk." A moment later, a plastic restraining device came flying from behind the counter. "Or you can do that," Stanton mumbled. "Thank you!" she called audibly. "Cuff him," Stanton instructed Nadezhda. The Russian tied the man's hands together, digging her knee into his back for good measure. Then she disarmed him. sliding that gun away to meet the other. "Now let's see that ID," Stanton prompted her. Nadezhda handed her a laminated card. It had a gold, two headed eagle under a crown with a tricolor shield, a picture of the woman, and an explosion of Cyrillic letters that were all meaningless to Stanton. It didn't matter if she couldn't read it, she was beginning to believe the Russian woman. Stanton tilted her head behind to her right. "Now pick up those pants behind me and show me the ID stuck in there somewhere." Stanton heard sirens. Nadezhda retrieved the ID, and recognition hit her instantly. "This pants are from Valerii!" "Yeah, sorry about that," Stanton said. "He's OK, I promise you. Now show me his ID." It looked just like Nadezhda's except for the picture. Stanton holstered her weapon, and pulled her FBI shield for when the Chicago PD arrived. They busted through the door like gung-ho marines, not a care in the world. Stanton hoped they wore bullet proof vests if they acted so cavalier. She showed her bona fides, explained who the man and woman were, and told them to put the man under arrest. Then she headed to the door to make up for an earlier mistake. "Wait! What do we arrest him for?" someone asked. "Criminal possession," Stanton said. "That'll be enough for us to start extradition proceedings." She nodded to Nadezhda and headed out. Stanton didn't notice the pair of pants that Nadezhda retrieved from the ground. But she did wonder why she was not in more of a panic to find her partner. The two were, of course, related. Nadezhda had her own mistaken captive to worry about. FIVE The sky was darkening. Stanton hurried to the car, weaving through squad cars and curious pedestrians. Somehow in the street scene, it seemed no one noticed the man with no pants handcuffed to his steering wheel. Stanton fished out the keys from the trousers she carried and unlocked the passenger door. Valerii looked relieved. "Sorry about that," Stanton said. "You're Valerii Patrikov." "I was trying to tell you that," he said. "We caught Smerov," Stanton said. She pushed the keys in the ignition and started the motor. I was dark in the car, but she managed to open the floor vents and turned the heat on full without turning on the headlights. "Who is we?" "Nadezhda and I," Stanton said. "We almost shot each other." "Is she hurt?" asked Valerii urgently. "No, she's fine. It was just tense there for a while." "Yes. I saw the police and though the worst. Where is Nadezhda?" "Actually, I don't know. As soon as I found out who you really were I couldn't wait to get back to apologize and let you out." "So why aren't you letting me out?" Stanton looked over at him and smiled. "Well now the emergency is over, and you just look cute." "Wonderful," Valerii said dejectedly. "So you were at Quantico," Stanton said. "Yes. My English is quite good, so I was a natural candidate for visiting your FBI training ground. I found it fascinating." "And this trip was just to get Smerov?" Stanton asked. "He deals in women, Agent...What is your name?" "Stanton. Heather Stanton." "He fools these women Agent Stanton, holds their passport, forces them to sell themselves. Very ugly business." "Well, we got him. You should have no trouble extraditing him." "Why were you protecting him?" Valerii asked. "We weren't," Stanton answered. "He said he had information for us. He probably wanted us to remove competition. After the shooting he claimed to be you. I guess he was just buying time." "It almost worked. We chased each other." "Yes, sorry about that." "Is taking a man's pants standard FBI procedure?" Valerii asked. "Just seemed like a good idea at the time," Stanton smiled. "By the way are you getting warmer?" "My legs are still a little cold, but yes, thank you." Stanton leaned over to rub his legs. "There, how's that?" "That's kind of you, but I would rather you just uncuff me and give me my pants." "No fun in that," Stanton said. She moved her arm to rub his other leg when it brushed against his briefs. That's when she noticed his hard-on. It must have been too dark to see it, which was amazing to Stanton as the organ was just about ready to spring out of his tight shorts. "Oh, my," she remarked uncontrollably. "It's the heat," Valerii said. "The sudden return of blood to my extremities. Please excuse me." Stanton brought her hand back to his crotch and squeezed. "That's some extremity there, Valerii. I'll never doubt that's a man's name again." "Please, Agent Stanton. You must not tease me." "Who said anything about teasing," Stanton said with a smile. "Besides, how are you going to stop me? You're handcuffed." "Please, Agent Stanton, don't!" Stanton had worked her hand into his tight briefs and pulled out his cock. She gave it a quick stroke. Valerii pleaded again for her to stop, but Stanton just smiled and ignored him. Somewhere between Stanton's first stroke and the time she started using both hands, Valerii stopped pleading for her to stop. Instead he began to think how much warmer her mouth might be, or her other parts. "Something wrong, Valerii?" Stanton asked. "You stopped telling me to stop." "I was just wondering..." "Yes?" "As long as you're not stopping, maybe you'd like to, you know..." "Oh, Valerii, I thought you'd never ask!" Stanton ducked her head under his arm. Her face was wedged between the steering wheel and his stiff prick. Stanton needed a little more room. She reached around the chair for the release. She found it. "Slide back!" she called. He did, and she devoured his cock. Valerii's arms were fully extended in front of him, linked to the steering wheel. Stanton's head bobbed up and down between the weary limbs as she worked on his cock. Her mouth was warm and wet, and she sucked hard on him with every upstroke. Fingers worked his balls and a thumb rubbed his urethra at the base of his cock. "You're so good," he said. Stanton worked faster, as if spurred on the compliment. It was all a little too much for Valerii. "I'm going to come," he warned her. Stanton just moaned appreciatively and slapped his thigh, as if to say, "let it rip, big boy." Which he did. He filled her mouth with warm slippery jism, and Stanton could not hold all of it in her mouth. Three salvos splashed inside her cheeks, and she kept sucking him off the whole time. Valerii's arms strained so much against his bonds that she thought he might hurt himself or the steering wheel. The waves of his orgasm subsided, though, and Stanton concentrated on not drowning. She took a swallow, maneuvered her head out from under his arms, and wiped off her chin. "Thank you," Valerii said. "Thank you so much." Stanton smiled. "All that gratitude," she said. "And I haven't even uncuffed you yet." SIX Maytag heard footsteps and froze. He had been trying to move his body to give his feet a shot at knocking the phone to him. He planned to use his nose to dial the operator. Nadezhda walked into the room and giggled. "Sorry, Zherry," she said. "I don't mean to laugh. But you look silly. I used your room key. Do you mind?" "What's going on?" Maytag asked. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+