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The Hottest Fire Ch. 01

By: velvet hammer



Chapter 1. Sanctuary

He hunched his shoulders and pulled his collar up against the cold wind as he stepped out of the tube station and into the suburban street. He walked down the street of row houses in what used to be an industrial neighbourhood. Before all the factories shut down and the concerns moved to Taiwan or Korea the street would have been full of children playing, fathers coming home from work, wives chatting over backyard fences. Now it was simply another down and out suburb of London, awaiting eventual discovery and rejuvenation into loft apartments by the new class of young moneyed professionals. 

He was not a particularly short nor small man, but not a large man, either. He walked slowly, hunched over only to make him appear small and insignificant. ‘Smith’; that was not his name nor even the name he was going by, that was simply how he regarded himself. A Smith or a Jones; anonymous and grey. Along with costumes and disguises, gait, mannerism and speech, it was all a part of projecting an outer appearance that cloaked his true persona. By mentally assuming this non-identity he sought to further blend into the masses of the work-a-day population. 

The sky was overcast, grey. He passed an Indian restaurant, a tobacconist’s and newsvendor’s, a fish and chips shop, an ancient drycleaners. Rusted grills protected dusty panes of glass. Starlings pecking at the pavement scattered and flew away as he approached. The pavement was grimy; it matched the buildings and the complexions of the people who dwelt there. The cold wind blew pages of last weeks newspapers down the street, blew through his thin coat and chilled him to the bone. His feet hurt in the heavy boots he wore, the muscles in his thighs were sore from the many miles he’d covered in the past two days and his back was stiff from sleeping on benches, in the tube. The street went uphill. He leaned into the grade as he made his way.

He thought over the events of the past two weeks that led him to seek out the Organization’s safehouse and shuddered at the recollection of death and destruction he’d left in his wake, the three men he’d killed. It wasn’t supposed to end that way, but things went pear-shaped and so he had to fight his way out. There you have it.

The last one was a particularly unpleasant business; the poor sod cried like a baby, begging for his life. ‘Smith’ let him have it all the same, just like his two mates. Sorry, Bob, it’s just a job, nothing personal. You’d have killed me if you’d had half the chance. Heaven knows you tried. Bleedin’ amateur. ‘Smith’ had lured the poor buggers down dark East End alleys one by one - the unsuspecting rotters thought they were moving in on an easy target. ‘Smith’ would simply find an alcove, blend into the scenery as it were, and then waited ‘till his prey was close enough to touch. Then he jumped out and let ‘em have it and finished ‘em off with his knife a la Jack the Ripper. Just like a gamekeeper cleaning a rabbit; it was too easy.   

He stopped before the stone steps leading up to the address given him in a coded duress message two days ago. Number 1369. He stared at the door, the little black plastic button to the doorbell buzzer mounted in brass on the heavy wooden doorframe. It was vain to attempt keeping down any false hopes; at this stage of fatigue he was almost like a drowning man grasping at straws. He went up the steps and pressed the buzzer, then took a step or two down and waited, drawing his collar up against a particularly icy blast of cold wind as he did so.

A young woman in a French maids’ outfit, complete with black fishnet stockings and starched, frilly white apron answered the door. She wore a cameo brooch at her neck on a choker of black velvet ribbon. Her honey-coloured hair was tied up into a tight bun, held in place with a tiny little white lace maid’s bonnet that featured a narrow black ribbon tied in a bow. He didn’t bat an eyelid; the Organization had long ago trained him to be accustomed to the unaccustomed, to expect the unexpected, although he did appreciate the black patent leather stiletto-ed heels that she was perched upon. He gave the bona fides; the memorized catch-phrase that was to identify himself.

“Pardon-mois, Mademoiselle, este-ce que ca le Chez D’Ambrosio?”

“Oui, c’est ca.” In an exaggerated gesture the French maid put her arms about herself and looked out at the weather in the street. “Ooh, la la! C’est tres froid ajourdhui!” 

As perfect as her accent was he had the distinct impression that French was not her native language, yet his trained ear discerned that neither was English. 

“Oui, c’est le froid du canard,” he answered. ‘Yes, it is the weather of the duck’ - the canned reply to her comment about the cold. 

“Sil-vous plais,” she gestured for him to enter, to come in; at long last he’d arrived. Sanctuary.

The Hottest Fire Ch. 02



Chapter 2. Debrief

It was only when she turned to lead him down the hallway that he became aware the fishnet stockings she wore were actually an entire body stocking, right on down to the sleeves, which ended with starched white cuffs at her wrists. Aside from the ridiculously undersized white apron that barely covered her front, the see-through fishnet catsuit was the only article of clothing she wore. As she led him down the hallway he was able to appreciate the undulations of her ass-cheeks and the litheness of her petit form; the wide white drawstrings of the apron wound about a slender waist, the fishnet material garment was cut low enough to display a well muscled back. A stray lock of brown hair curled tantalizingly along the back of a long, slim neck, well-formed legs deliciously sculpted by the heels she wore reached from her perfectly round ass all the way down to the floor. Mademoiselle paused at an open doorway, cleared her throat and announced his arrival to the occupant within.

“Monsieur Ludlow c’est arrive,” she announced in a voice that tinkled like a crystal chandelier. 

A gruff voice emanated from within. “Ludlow? Is he here? Show him in! Show him in!” Mademoiselle waved him toward the doorway. As he passed by her to enter a well-appointed parlour Ludlow studied the young woman’s face. Green eyes spaced wide apart met his, bright red lips slightly parted seemed almost about to speak. Her open mouth and tongue almost seemed to be a succulent piece of fresh fruit. He hungered to taste it. She answered his gaze with the slightest arching of an eyebrow.

Sir Kilby rose from an enormous armchair by the fireplace to greet Ludlow. A burly fellow, Sir Kilby was an anachronistic throwback to the days of Empire, Queen and Country. Complete with waxed handlebar moustache and monocle, he wore a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches that featured a military device on the lapel; his tie was the regimental colours of the Coldstream Guard.

Everything about Sir Kilby, even the very room itself, radiated Old School. From the wallpaper to the smell of rum-soaked pipe tobacco to the framed print of The Defence of Rourke’s Drift over the mantelpiece; the well-appointed parlour was a study in Victorian decor. Anybody who didn’t know any better would assume Sir Kilby was a card-carrying member of the most connected Old Boys Clubs in town. It was all a part of the camouflage the Organization was so deeply embedded within.   

“Ludlow, old man!” Sir Reece grasped his elbows and clasped him on the back. “Good to see you at last!” His happiness and enthusiasm were genuine; Sir K, as he was known within the Organization, projected an almost youthful fervour that was almost infectious. And of course he showed the natural joy that came with the relief felt by a leader whose most trusted man has returned safely from battle. Sir K held Ludlow out at an arm’s length and inspected him.

“Good God, man, you look a sight!” Ludlow knew he looked like shit warmed up. “We’ll get a brandy into you, and then a bit of a clean up before your debrief, what?”

“That’d be great, Sir K.”

“A nasty business, the way things went in the end there. A very nasty business,” Sir K said as he handed Ludlow a bulb glass and poured him a generous measure of golden-brown liquid. 

“Sometimes it turns out that way,” Ludlow said briefly. He hadn’t yet thawed out enough to comment at length. 

They seated themselves in the overstuffed armchairs and Sir K lifted his glass in toast. “To absent comrades,” he said briefly. 

“Absent comrades,” Ludlow replied. He took a deep draught of the liquor and savoured the burning sensation as it seemed to pierce his very being all the way down to his heart.

“A bite to eat, old boy?” Sir K took care of his troops with all the care and concern of a Regimental Sergeant Major, which of course was the rank he retired from the Army with. A wave of his hand and the French maid appeared, bearing a covered tray. “Ah, Gabrielle has read my mind, it seems,” Sir K declared. Ludlow wondered if she could read his. You know she bloody well reads every dirty thought you’re having, you dirty sod you.

Gabrielle uncovered the tray, revealing roasted chicken nestled on a bed of rice. Enough to satisfy his hunger for now, Ludlow thought as he surveyed the rounded tops of a nice pair of tits, quite visible above her apron as Gabrielle leaned before him. Ludlow hardly waited for Sir K to indicate for him to eat, he practically inhaled the food. The roast bird melted in his mouth as the meal seemed to evaporate before him in an instant.     

“Gabrielle will see you to a hot bath, and then when you’re comfortable we’ll proceed with the debriefing.” The French maid appeared at the doorway at the mention of her name. “Gabrielle, see our fellow Ludlow here to the bath . . .”

“Apres-mois, monsieur . . .” she said, leading him to a bathroom down the hallway. Following her down the hall, Ludlow was able to appreciate the way the fishnet material set off the curves of her hips. Once in the bathroom, Ludlow practically drooled at the sight of her fantastic ass from a new vantage point as she bent over to draw the hot bath. 

Gabrielle stood aside with her hands over the front of her tiny white apron. Ludlow removed his coat and she took it, held it folded over her arms and remained standing in place. When Ludlow finally realized that she wasn’t about to leave the room he shrugged and continued to undress. Gabrielle took all of his clothing until finally he was down to his undershorts, which she also took as he skived them off. A slight grimace expressed her disdain at the condition of his soiled clothing. Before she turned to leave the room her eyes casually wandered down his naked form; an eyebrow arched as she shamelessly eyeballed his cock.

Ludlow closed his eyes as he lowered himself into the soothing hot water. The heat penetrated his sore, stiff muscles, relaxed him where he’d been wound like a coiled spring for days. Wisps of steam vapour curled up around his head. He totally submerged himself to wash the grit and oil from his scalp. He scrubbed his face, wiped the muck from the corners of his eyes, and then surfaced. Eyes still closed he was startled to feel a hand on his as he reached for the soap. He opened his eyes to see Gabrielle, kneeling on the bathmat beside the tub.

“Permittez-mois, monsieur,” she said simply, and in a business-like manner proceeded to scrub his head, his neck and chest. She indicated for him to stand, then continued to scrub him down, paying an inordinate amount of attention to the crack of his ass. Ludlow revealed in the feel of tiny hands wandering over his body. She washed his balls and stroked his dick with a fistful of suds until it was hard, poking out in front of him like a wooden pole. 

Ludlow thoroughly enjoyed the marvellous sensations of her soapy wet hand, moving slick and fast over his rock-hard dick, when quite abruptly and without completing the handjob she quit her attentions and moved on to scrub his legs. Finally she rinsed him off and indicated for him to leave the tub. In a state of sheer consternation Ludlow indicated his erection, sticking straight out before him like a wooden spar on a sailing ship. Gabrielle regarded his thick, stiff pole, then looked into his eyes. With a silent Gallic shrug she reached for a bottle of body lotion, squirting a generous glob into her right palm before addressing herself to the task of stroking him off.    

The handful of cold lotion sent thrills through his system as she curled her fingers around his shaft. With the combination of slick lotion and her hand applying just the right amount of pressure as it raced up and down his slippery length, it took but a few strokes for Ludlow to come; he must have ejaculated a gallon of cum his first spurt alone. Ludlow felt both orgasmic pleasure in the head of his dick as well as an incredible release of tension. He weakened in the knees and had to put his hands on the tiled surface of the walls to hold himself up as thick, gooey white jets shot out of his swollen cock, puddling up at his feet in the bottom of the tub. 

Throughout the entire affair Gabrielle maintained a studied air of detachment, as if stroking a man off were no more involved than selecting a ripe piece of fruit at the greengrocer’s. She washed her hands under the tap, then soaped his dick and rinsed him off once more. She held out a thick, fluffy towel for him as he stepped out of the tub, patted him down and then abruptly left the room. 

Ludlow inspected himself in the mirror. It was obvious the razor on the side of the sink was for him to use, so he lathered up and proceeded to shave off the better part of a week’s worth of stubble. Gabrielle returned with a fresh suit of clothes. Ludlow knew without asking they were all his size; the Organization always took care of the little details. He donned the crisp, white shirt – it could have been tailored for him. A grey birdseye suit done in the latest Savoy Row style, Gabrielle assisted him into his coat sleeves then knotted his tie, all the while making little comments, Vous est tres beaux, monsieur, tres genereux. He continued to wonder about her origins as his trained ear struggled to discern the traces of an accent through her near-perfect French. Voila! she announced, as she completed knotting his tie with a pat of her hand on his chest. Ludlow thanked her with a brief kiss on the forehead, to which she closed her wide-set green eyes and dipped a slight curtsy in acknowledgement.

Sir K was waiting for him in the parlour. “Ah, there you are. I must say, you look a damn sight better, Ludlow. More like your old self, I should say. Shall we get on with the debrief, then?”

*  *  *

“Very well, then,” Sir K harrumphed as the debrief drew to a conclusion. “Now I’d like to take the opportunity to properly introduce you to one of your fellow operators.” 

“Gabrielle?” Ludlow asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“No, no, Gabrielle’s a trainee still. She’s in from our Rio de Janeiro branch.” Ludlow should have known – the accent was Portuguese; Brazilian Portuguese. Sir K went on, “I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce Miss Jenny to you.”   

Ludlow looked up to see a beautiful woman enter the room, a magnificent creature with silky shoulder length blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. She wore nothing but a chemise of the thinnest gossamer and a pair of grey silk stockings that ended on her thighs in a thick band of lace. A pair of stiletto-heeled black pumps completed her brief ensemble. 

“Miss Jenny has been running the little safehouse operation we have here for the past six months,” Sir K explained. “She’s been operating under the guise of madam of a house of ill repute.” Jenny smiled sweetly at this. “Your arrival conveniently allows us to perpetuate this cover. 

False modesty was not a trait of the Organization’s members; agents who often spent extended periods of time working in close quarters, whose very lives were in each other’s hands, gradually assumed an attitude of complete openness with one another about the tiniest facet of their lives. Indeed, Jenny’s lingerie was quite appropriate given the cover she needed to maintain.

“Hello, Mr. Ludlow,” she said in a sweet voice that tinkled like a bell. “This is such an honour. Sir K tells me you’re one of our most hardened veterans.” She smiled, wordlessly inviting Ludlow to inspect her practically naked body. Her full breasts poked out like a pair of torpedoes, capped by wide pink nipples. A long strand of pearls hanging between her generous breasts drew the flimsy see-through material close and accentuated her taut nipples. A hard, flat belly was testament to the state of physical fitness all of the Organization’s operators kept themselves in. The lacy tops of the stockings on her shapely thighs drew attention to her nether-hair; close cropped and shaven into a diminutive triangle. Her crotch was shaven quite bald, as smooth as a peach. The briefest glimpse of slit was visible below her golden curls. 

Jenny held out a hand and Ludlow rose to take it. Given his fellow agent’s total lack of modesty Ludlow made no attempt to conceal his own state of arousal.  

“And now,” Sir K went on, “Jenny would like to assist you in a little, ah, post-mission decompression,” Sir K said with a broad smile. Jenny smiled sweetly at this. “You two young people go on, now. Enjoy your time off, Ludlow, you’ve certainly earned it.”



The Hottest Fire Ch. 03



Chapter 3. Decompression

Jenny smiled as she took Ludlow’s hand and led him out of the parlour, across the passageway to a larger room, this one done in more modern style and featuring a large, flat-screen TV and an overstuffed sofa. The room was dark, the only light entered through the door, which was slightly ajar. “Let me help you with your jacket,” she said, taking it from him as he removed it. “Why don’t you take off your shoes and make yourself more comfortable?” 

She waved him to the large couch, Ludlow sighed his appreciation as he sank into it. He was absolutely comfortable. Jenny sat next to him on the sofa, tucking her legs under herself. Her magnificent tits poked forward as she arched her back. When she reached over for a little bell that was on the coffee table the tips of her nipples actually brushed across his cheek and lips. There was an immediate stirring in his loins. Gabrielle appeared at the doorway when Jenny rang the bell. “Madame?” she asked.

“Oh, Gabrielle, please bring a drink for our guest.”

“Bien sure, madame. De quelle est votre preference, monsieur?” Ludlow could make out the accent, ever so slight, beneath the girls flawless French. She might have the makings of a good operator. 

“Oh, uh, gin and tonic,” he said as he diverted his attention between Gabrielle and Jenny’s bountiful pair of tits suspended mere inches from his nose. “And please make it a strong one. It’s been a long day.”  Gabrielle nodded and left, returning with a tall glass on a tray. Jenny thanked her and she left. 

As Ludlow took a long pull on his drink, Jenny reached for the remote and switched on the telly. “Let’s see what’s on,” she said. The darkness was filled with the image of two beautiful naked women engaged in a long, slow kiss on the enormous screen. One of them bore a striking resemblance to a young Liz Taylor, the other had a more modern look, with straight long hair in the sixties style. The women were holding up their tits in their hands and rubbing their nipples together. 

“Oh, this looks good!” Jenny said excitedly. She grasped her own generous pair in her hands and held them up, pinching and teasing her nipples through the transparent fabric. She closed her eyes and moaned as she pleasured herself. Opening her eyes, she looked at Ludlow and asked “like them, eh?” indicating the screen with a nod. The longhaired girl was sucking on the Liz Taylor girl’s nipples while the Liz girl leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Ludlow chuckled. Jenny reached over to undo his tie. She slowly unbuttoned the front of his chest and ran her hands across his broad chest. “Mmmm . . . nice,” she said, giving his nipples a playful pinch.

Then Jenny cupped her tits, held them forward and in a cute, cockteasing manner she asked, “do you want to suck on my tits?” This time Ludlow couldn’t even muster a sound; his throat was dry, his balls were in an uproar.

Jenny lifted the flimsy chemise over her head and tossed it aside, then ran the palms of her hands up and down her sides. The blue light from the television screened reflected artfully off the rounded curves of her nude body. Pinching her nipples to hardness she cupped her bare breasts and held them forward, offering them to him. 

Ludlow reached forward, placing his hands upon her magnificent pair at last. He palmed her full breasts, squeezed them and gently pinched her nipples, now as hard as a pair of acorns. Jenny smiled as he felt her up. He closed his eyes and placed his mouth on a nipple to lick and suck, then kissed his way across her breasts to her other nipple to again suck, lick and suck. Ludlow hummed as he sucked her tits; Jenny sighed out of sheer bliss at the terrific sensations his mouth delivered to her nipples.

After sucking her nipples quite generously he finally broke free to reach for his glass and took a drink, taking an ice cube into his mouth. Then he replaced the glass to the coffee table and with the ice cube in his mouth he played it upon her nipples. Jenny sat up straight and arched her back at the intense sensations of wet warmth and slick, cold hardness the ice in his mouth delivered to her pointy nipples. They seemed to grow even longer in his mouth as he moved his lips back and forth between the hard little nubbins of flesh. 

Jenny’s hand fell to his lap and brushed across his cock, by now straining at the fabric of his trousers. The ice in his mouth was melted now. As he nibbled and sucked harder at her stiff nipples Ludlow idly wondered if it were possible for a woman to orgasm through stimulating her nipples alone. Jenny’s fingers fumbled at his belt, undid his trousers. Without releasing his mouth from her tits he lifted his ass to allow her to pull his trousers down. They fell about his ankles and he kicked them free, continuing to suck and kiss her breasts all the while. 

Unrestrained, his cock stood straight up. The air of the room felt cool and fresh on the hot skin of his red-hot member. Jenny’s fingers fluttered up and down his length, playing and stroking lightly as he continued to suck her nipples, to amuse them with his teeth. She trailed her fingernails across his balls in a tantalizing, tickling manner and then went back to slowly stroking his dick up and down, up and down.

“Would you care for a blowjob?” she asked, quite innocuously. To hear such words coming from her lips caused his cock to twitch in anticipation; quite nearly a mini-orgasm. In saying it Jenny was as casual as a hostess offering a canapé to a guest at a party.

- Would you care for a blowjob?

- No thanks; I just had one for lunch.

- Would you care for a blowjob?

- No thanks; I’m trying to quit.

- Would you care for a blowjob?

- No thanks; my doctor said they’re bad for me. But seeing as it’s Boxing Day, what the hell!

A thin stream of pre-come leaked out the end of his dick. Jenny expertly spread the wetness over his cockhead and around the rim as she continued to lightly finger his dick. “Mmmmm . . .” he moaned, sucking her nipple like a baby. It was all he could muster to say. Did she expect him to say? Did she truly think he would decline?  

Jenny released his penis from her hand and leaned forward, drowning him in the pillowy sea of her cleavage as she reached for the little bell on the coffee table. She rang the little bell: ding-a-ling-a-ling! On the screen Ludlow glimpsed the two women clamped in a tight sixty-niner; the one who looked like Liz on the bottom. The camera gave a good view of Liz’s tongue working the other girl’s clit while her fingers went rapidly in and out of the girl’s wet hole. Ludlow looked over to the door as Gabrielle appeared. 

“Madame?”

With her chin Jenny indicated Ludlow’s cock, poking rock solid straight up from his lap. Gabrielle acknowledged the wordless command with a little nod. Ludlow’s dick throbbed as she moved to kneel between his legs; her little hands felt cold and tiny as she placed them upon his dick. Ludlow thought his heart had stopped as he watched the wide-eyed girl part her ruby-red lips and stick her tongue all the way out. Holding his length up before her she proceeded to lick her way up from his balls to the sensitive flesh at the base of his cock. She licked his length like a cat lapping cream. She continued licking right up to the top and started flicking her tongue across the head of his cock.  She tongued the tiny slitted opening and ran her lips and tongue around the rim of his helmet. Then she parted her lips and took his entire length all the way in, sucking him into her mouth right down to the base. Jenny regarded the girl’s activities with a look bordering upon disinterest.

Ludlow’s eyes closed to slits as he revelled in being sucked. As Gabrielle’s mouth continued to go up and down on his cock he returned to sucking Jenny’s fabulous tits. He hummed as he sucked her tits, Jenny moaned in reply.            

Gabrielle expertly sucked Ludlow’s dick slowly and leisurely, her head bobbing gently up and down in his lap. Encircling his dick with a forefinger and thumb, she started stroking as her mouth saturated his pole with saliva. All the while Ludlow continued to suck on Jenny’s tits, holding and squeezing them tight as Gabrielle’s worked her magic on his pole with her lips.

Now Gabrielle’s fingers were going up and down his wet cock with speed. She parted her lips wide and began jacking him off into her open mouth. Ludlow closed his eyes and moaned; it was getting harder for him to maintain his equilibrium as he approached orgasm. Gabrielle seemed to sense this and she increased the speed of her strokes. Ludlow’s face was buried into one of Jenny’s ample breasts; his eyes were screwed shut tight. He had a mouth full of nipple, sucking hard and nibbling, he gripped the other tit and pinched her nipple tight. Jenny’s breath came short, she was almost panting. As Ludlow sucked her tit he moaned with pleasure, causing Jenny to sigh, sigh, sigh, again and again! Now her eyes were on the blunt end of his pole as he came in spurts all over Gabrielle’s open mouth, her face, spurted all over her ample tits. 

Gabrielle leaned back to stroke him off to completion until he could come no more. When he was at last finished coming she quietly stood up, holding her come-covered hand up so as not to spill his cream on the carpet. She wiped the spunk that plastered her face and chest with the back of her other hand as she left the room. Ludlow lay back on the sofa, his eyes half shut down to narrow slits. Jenny was smiling cryptically at him, she practically glowed. Damn if the girl wasn’t a beautiful piece of work! Once more Ludlow wondered if a woman could orgasm through stimulation of her breasts and nipples alone; even in the relative darkness of the room he was almost certain he could discern a deep blushing from Jenny’s chest up to her hairline.  

Gabrielle returned shortly with a damp washcloth and kneeled before him again to wipe him clean – it was a nice touch and Ludlow appreciated it. On the screen the two women were exchanging a series of open-mouthed tongue kisses as they rubbed their nipples together. 

“Can I refresh your drink?” Jenny asked, getting up as Gabrielle finished wiping his cock clean. 

Aahhh, decompression! was his single thought as he sank back in the cushiony sofa.



The Hottest Fire Ch. 04



Chapter 4. The Iron Lady

They met as scheduled. It was her style to meet for lunch in a simple restaurant, to avoid the very expensive, exclusive places where her presence would be noted and reported. Yet it was also her style to be wearing only the best, the top of the line, the most expensive clothes and jewellery available. The mink coat was de rigueur, the strand of pearls around her neck likewise. The gloved hand she offered him was adorned with a bracelet studded with diamonds, quite real and very big. And yet she had about her the air of a true aristocrat, someone who could wear such an outfit in broad daylight and pull it off naturally, without appearing a whore or a film star. And this, of course, was because she was a true aristocrat.

Her wardrobe was a study in black, her jet-black hair was cut in a severe pageboy; her age was indeterminable. There were lines on her face, but not unsightly battle scars of age; rather the kind that showed where smiles went. She was old enough to be in charge of the Organization, to have climbed to the top, yet somehow she managed to look youthful despite her age. The black colour of her hair was quite natural. She filled the dress she wore well; nice breasts, a slim waistline and a pair of hips that immediately brought to mind a certain activity. She could have been anywhere from thirty-five to sixty. Ludlow suspected she had a picture in the attic as ancient as Babylon, and probably just as sinful. 

She looked at Ludlow over half-rimmed spectacles as she peered over the menu and somehow the effect was quite sexy, startlingly so. 

There were whispered rumours within the Organization about her true identity, her titled family, but nobody knew for certain. This strict compartmentalization was the nature of the Organization. Given the broad scope of the Organization’s charter the strictest of security both within and without was absolutely necessary. No mole had ever penetrated the super-secret Organization. Ludlow was not even certain of her actual role within the hierarchy of leadership. To operators and department heads alike she was only known as The Lady, or more often than not The Bitch. Ludlow kept it simple; he called her Ma’am.

Like everything to do with the Organization The Lady was a study in opposites. It had startled him the first time he heard her swear; nowadays he was used to hearing the basest profanities uttered from those delicate lips. Indeed, it would make him uncomfortable be in a conversation with her when she didn’t cuss like a sailor, because then he would know something was terribly out of the ordinary. 

But today things were in order. She was sharing a story about a recent encounter. “It was at a party I went to the other week, this young American fellow just came right out and asked me, ‘Do you shag?’”

“Cheeky fellow!” Ludlow replied.

“Yes, well, quite.”

“What on Earth did you say?”

“I didn’t say a word; I slapped him right across the face.” Ludlow imagined her decking the oaf. “It turns out that the Shag is a sort of a dance they do out there in the colonies.”

“Yanks.”

“Yes, quite. Naturally, I took him with me afterward and let him know what it is that we call shagging.” Ludlow could picture her laying it to the naive American with a sixteen-inch strap-on. Egging him on with a riding crop, no doubt.

There was something distinctly British about having The Lady in charge of the Organization. It was something that seemed to reach from the distant tribal origins of Britain itself; ever since Queen Cholea led the Celts against the Romans Britons had been following women. Elizabeth, Victoria. And just like Elizabeth had her Drake and Victoria her Gordon, so Ludlow felt he served The Lady as her gentleman adventurer. 

Today’s agenda was Ludlow’s next assignment. “I can’t brief you here. Have some lunch and we’ll go to a secure location,” she said. He ordered the roast beef sandwich – it came with a whacking great hunk of bread and was served au jus. She had a martini. 

Her chauffeured limousine dropped them off at one of the white row houses in Somerset Mews – the entire street looked like it was done in white marble. The Lady produced an encoded card from her purse, swiped it at a box by the door and donned her spectacles before pressing a series of numbers on the pad before opening the door with a conventional key. They entered. 

The interior of the house was cold, the furniture was draped in drop cloths; it was clear nobody was in the place. The Lady said, “brrr,” and held her mink about her as she went down the hallway and turned the knob on a radiator. When she returned to the alcove by the door where Ludlow politely waited she held a silver-plated automatic in her gloved hand. A Berretta .25 ACP Jetfire, more suited to a pimp or a prostitute than a professional, still in her capable hands it was a very, very lethal weapon and Ludlow knew it. And it went well with her diamond encrusted silver bracelet.

“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” she said, looking at him in deadly earnest over the half-rims. “Take off your coat.” 

She wasn’t The Lady anymore; she was definitely The Bitch. Ludlow removed his overcoat, tossed it to the floor. 

“Now your jacket. Carefully.”

He tossed his jacket aside. 

“Good. Now put your hands on your head.” She relieved him of his pistol, the big American .45 he carried. Most in his line of work favoured little pop-guns like the one she held on him now, but Ludlow liked them to go down and stay down when he had to put one in them; hence the artillery. The peace of mind the thing gave him more than made up for having to put up with the extra weight. The Bitch put the large handgun on the side table, then reached around his other side and withdrew the fighting knife he always carried as backup. She knew him only too well. 

She proceeded to pat him down, keeping the Berretta tucked up against her hip and safely out of his reach as she did so. Satisfied, she said, “You aren’t carrying a wire. Good. You can relax now. Have your toys back.” She nodded to the gun and the knife on the side table, the Berretta was snapped neatly back inside her purse. She turned so he could take her mink. He placed it on a coat hanger and hung it on a coat hook on the wall. Her dress was a print done in black and grey with some interesting purple motifs. It was cut modestly, yet hugged every curve. The black gloves went up to the elbow. With her back to him she said, “Undo me?” the gloved hands indicating the zipper that went up the back of her dress.

Ludlow undid her zipper, pulled it down far enough to reveal the back of her black lace brassiere. The Bitch turned and looked at him with those dark eyes of hers, then quite simply said, “Shall we shag, then?”

He followed her upstairs. She doffed her dress, then the brassiere came off and joined it on the floor. She wasn’t wearing panties; Ludlow would have been surprised if she had. The Bitch turned and faced him, quite nude, as if putting herself on display before him. The black elbow gloves, the diamonds, her black, thigh high stockings lent a certain naughtiness to her nudity as if exaggerating somehow her nakedness. The half-rimmed reading glasses that she still peered over only added to the overall sinful effect. 

Her full, round breasts showed barely a hint of sag. Black-gloved hands fluttered about them in a carefree manner, her fingers tracing little circle about her nipples and pinching them to delicious hardness. The black hair at the junction of her shapely thighs was trimmed to a severely short buzz cut. Other than an abbreviated triangle, which narrowed to a sharp point ending right at the top of her slit, her pussy was shaven quite bald.

The sheer beauty of her naked body never failed to amaze Ludlow. No matter how many times they bedded together he always found it a thrill to see her, to experience the pleasure of her body. There was something about an older woman, an unquestionably more experienced woman, which made The Bitch a truly exciting bed-partner. It was whispered that she’d slept her way to the top. With a laugh she’d once openly admitted as much to Ludlow, “Now that I’ve fucked my way to the top of the ladder, I’m working my way back down again,” she’d told him right before their first time together.

Quite comfortable in flaunting herself thusly, The Bitch walked over to seat herself on the bed and assumed a leisurely air. Ludlow moved to her. Her black-gloved fingers moved to his waistline. As she undid his belt and unzipped his fly Ludlow managed to pull off his shirt and kick off his shoes. Once his trousers fell to the floor his cock poked straight out, inches from her face. Her gloved hands caressed his tool, her eyes flashed and she gave him a naughty smile before pursing her lips to lightly kiss his cockhead. His dick quivered. A pearly bead of moisture formed at the tiny slitted opening, leaked across her red painted lips. Her tongue darting out like a cat’s to quickly lap it up. Lolling her tongue about the blunt end of his rigid pole, she proceeded to lick her way up and down his length. 

She flicked her tongue as she worked her way down to the base and up again. She palmed his cock, rubbing the underside of his shaft all over her face and kissing it, continually giving him the eye-fuck as she did so. She boldly watched him as he watched her perform her cock-worship, intensifying the taboo aspect of it all. Then she closed her eyes, parted her lips and took his cock deep into her wet mouth. 

Ludlow groaned with pleasure as The Bitch sucked his cock with the finesse of a true connoisseur. She stroked him with one gloved hand while tickling his balls with the other, sucking up and down his pole all the while. Beyond the totally exquisite feeling itself, the total disconnect of having a lady of the highest station seated before him, naked, with his dick in her mouth, served to all the more intensify the sensations to his dick. 

He was as solid as a rock. She released him from her mouth and moved back onto the bed to spread out, once more display her charms. One gloved hand pinched a nipple, the other moved south down her nude body to linger about her mon du Venus. She was a figure from an erotic Baroque painting, a noble woman reclining in the nude, pleasuring herself absentmindedly while a celestial audience of cherubim and seraphim, nymphs and satyrs looked on. White skin encased in black gloves and stockings, pink nipples; down below her neatly trimmed black triangle served to emphasize her splendour like a beauty mark. Lightly fingering her bare cleft and smiling in a most sweet and innocent manner, the words that came from her mouth were predictably outrageous. “Now come along, there’s a good lad, and suck my clit.”

He held her ass-cheeks in both hands and began to lightly kiss her slit. The Bitch threw her head back and closed her eyes. She tickled and pinched her nipples with gloved fingers. Ludlow pressed his face to her pussy and gently probed her slit with his tongue. The Bitch moaned her approval, sucking in her breath as he closed his lips around her budding clitoris and circled his wet tongue around it. 

Her gloved hands went to his head. She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled his face even closer into her pussy as his tongue swirled around her swollen nubbin of flesh. Her pussylips were open; she was very wet. He moved down to delve her hole with his tongue, then moved back up to the main object of his attentions. Forming his lips like an “o” he sucked her clit right into his mouth. The Bitch openly moaned as a series of mini-orgasms raced through her system.

Finally she could take it no more. Indicating for him to release her pleasure-button from his oral ministrations, she pulled him up. Holding his face in her hands, she looked into his eyes, kissed him, her tongue relishing the taste of her own juices. “Please, fuck me now,” she said quite breathlessly.

Ludlow moved over her. Beneath him, the Bitch looked into his eyes with an air of expectancy; her glove- and stocking-clad limbs were all about him. The head of his dick rested upon her slit. He licked his fingers, reached down and expertly spread her swollen pussylips. His shaft quite easily slid into her dripping pussy.

Her pussy muscles clamped around his dick, gripping him as wave after wave of orgasm immediately coursed through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled him close as her wet pussy saturated his dick. A hot feeling burned in her loins, a bright ball of orange and purple light exploded inside her brain. Ludlow hung on for dear life; it was all he could do to thrust his hips, plunging his dick in and out of her hot, wet hole. 

Her pussy assumed a life all unto itself; it became like a sort of undersea creature that gripped and sucked, seeking sustenance from his hard pole. As the pressure of his mounting orgasm reached crescendo a stream of fluid started to flow from Ludlow’s dick. She gripped him tight, the walls of her pussy clamping down around the base of his cock as they came together. Gallons of cum issued forth as he spurted searing, hot liquid into her.

They lay together, still enjoined. Her pussy seemed reluctant to release his now softening cock. Finally he rolled over; exhausted, spent. She moved on her side and placed her head on his chest, eyes closed, a gloved finger tracing little circles on his nipple. They dozed off in each other’s arms.

Ludlow awoke to the sound of the shower running. Wisps of steam emitted from the open bathroom door. Then the shower stopped and he heard her step out of the shower stall. He got up, still nude, and went into the bathroom. She was standing before the sink with a towel wrapped around her, her hair done up in another like a turban. He looked at her bare shoulders, the way the towel hung about her breasts, looked at her shapely legs. For the millionth time he marvelled how beautiful she looked, despite her age, even without her makeup. 

She looked at him, looked down his body and let her eyes linger on his cock, then looked back up at him and smiled. “You’re a good operator, Jonathon,” she said. It was quite out of character for her to address him by his given name. “You’re going to love your next assignment.”

He finished showering, towelled off and stepped into the bedroom. The Iron Lady sat at a little side table wearing a white terrycloth robe. She’d brought a pot of tea up and was pouring a cup. “Ah, there you are,” she said, looking up at him with a smile. “It’s two lumps, with milk, right?” How well she knew her prize operator. Ludlow smiled and joined her at the little table. As they had tea she briefed him.

The assignment involved enrolling as a graduate student at University College. The Organization was concerned about an underground cell of Middle Eastern terrorists they suspected was active amongst the foreign student body there. Ludlow was to establish himself on campus, to recruit possible agents, and to hopefully expose and eradicate the terrorist presence. It was a difficult assignment, but given the government’s current high priority to anti-terrorist operations Ludlow would enjoy an extraordinarily liberal amount of time to achieve his mission, not to mention a generous budget. This was Iron Lady’s way of rewarding Ludlow for his successful performance on missions to date, and, of course, for his performance in certain ‘extra-curricular’ matters.



The Hottest Fire Ch. 05



Chapter 5. University College

He met her at an opening of an art exhibition, in one of the great halls of the University. It was a rainy day; he was trying to find a way to kill time and discovered the event quite by chance. Quite by chance and without intent he noticed her standing next to him, looking at the same canvas 

She was breathtakingly beautiful; slightly taller than him, a study in willowy curves with miles-long legs and a healthy pair of breasts that poked straight out with the incredible firmness that only a young girl may possess. She sported the supermodel-whore look that seemed to be the current rage with the young ladies these days: a lime green one-piece outfit that featured long sleeves, cut wide-open in the front down to the huge metallic buckle of a four-inch wide leather belt that rested on her hips, before ending in abbreviated bun-hugging shorts that displayed her fishnet stocking-clad thighs to their best advantage. She wore a sleeved shawl over her playsuit, crocheted in an open hooked pattern from strands of thick black yarn that made it look like it was fabricated from a circus act’s safety net; it hung down almost ankle-length. Her long legs sank down into a pair of calf-high boots, stiletto-heeled, of course. Her long, blonde hair was done up in the back into a loose bun, held in place with a pencil of all things, balancing out the slut-chic look with the slightly sophisticated air of a busy academic. A tightly tied paisley pattern silk scarf in tan and beige emphasized her long, thin neck. She regarded the world through a pair of round, wire-framed granny glasses tinted blue that served to enhance the cornflower blue of her eyes, and to magnify the pure sexual message her persona transmitted.      

Ludlow wondered if she was American; he assumed he’d never have a chance with such an incredible bird.  

The work they stood before was a typically unoriginal modern that featured thin lines on a washed jade green background; it looked like it was inspired by an engineer’s technical drawings. She was barely aware of his presence when he decided to strike up a conversation. "What do you think?"

“I don’t know if I like it. Perhaps here, in this setting, but I don’t think I could live with it. What do you think?”

“I dunno,” he said honestly. “Predictable. Average. Boring.”

“Do you like art?”

“I don’t like this.”

“What do you like, then?”

“Give me an honest Rembrandt, or a good Michelangelo over this modern stuff any day.”

“I could go with that,” she replied, and she ended up going with him.

Her straight, long hair and the blue-tinted wire-framed sunglasses she wore gave her a sixties-era hippy-chick look that Ludlow found fascinating. Ludlow imagined they looked an odd pair, he in his tweeds and turtleneck, she with her love beads and granny glasses. He wondered if he’d ever have a chance with the taller girl.

Over cappuccinos in the Student Union he told her his name; Jonathon Ludlow. Her name was Barbara, she was twenty-two, and she seemed very talkative. His first impressions were incorrect; she wasn’t American, she was a surprisingly fresh and vivacious London girl in her second year at University, studying history. Although she felt it was a bit of a waste of time, attending University to study a subject that one could very well do on their own, she didn’t know what else would interest her enough to make an effort at. In the same offhand manner she casually commented that she was currently experimenting with lesbianism, as if it were a class she was taking. All her past boyfriends, she stated candidly, knew more about football than fucking.

It was growing late. Ludlow suggested dinner. Barbara accepted. His car delighted her; she practically squealed as she slid around on the Jaguar’s calfskin interior. The place he took her to pleased her even more; very expensive and very exclusive. She ate with gusto; one could barely survive on the food they dished up in the University cafeteria, she told him. “So tell me about yourself,” she said, spearing a piece of perfectly done steak with her fork and popping it into her mouth.

He told her the usual cover story; he was Canadian, from northern Ontario - true - an electrical engineer – also true - he worked for a steel company as a sort of consultant to overseas clients – this part was cover. He was taking a couple of years off to finish a graduate degree. He was single, never married, no kids – this part was true as well. Barbara seemed truly contented in his company. 

They ended up in a pub near the University grounds – neutral grounds for a first date. Barbara was washing her meal down with a pint of beer, Ludlow nursed a single malt Scotch. A hulking young man suddenly interrupted their tête-à-tête.

“So wot’s this then? I thought you were going lesbo?” he said rudely. He was obviously some kind of jilted ex-; one of the football types Barbara had mentioned earlier, obviously full of grog.

“Oh, I, uh . . .  . . . go away, Reggie. Don’t you know it’s over between us?” She was clearly upset. 

“And who’s this geezer? You screwing the profs now, eh?” Reggie poked a couple of hard fingers into Ludlow’s chest. With that gesture he made two mistakes; his first and his last.

Ludlow secured the offending fingers in a tight overhand grip. He stood up, kicking his barstool away behind him as he did so. He twisted Reggie’s arm around cruelly as he brought the hand he gripped to his hip and secured the boy’s wrist with his other hand. Reggie went over face into the bar, his free hand grasping about as if seeking an escape from the source of total, overwhelming pain. Ludlow applied a further twist; an unmistakable pop reported the boy’s shoulder was dislocated. Still holding on to the fingers, Ludlow reached down, applied an iron grip to Reggie’s testicles and lifted the lad high up onto his toes.

Reggie was now in such pain he couldn’t even howl. All he could see was a solid white spot floating before his eyes; his peripheral vision was gone. Reggie sucked for breath as Ludlow squeezed his balls and mercilessly twisted the dislocated arm. Ludlow walked him bent over to the door of the pub and booted him out into the street, was scarcely breathing hard when he returned to a stunned and visibly shaken Barbara. 

“What . . .   . . . what . . .   . . . happened?” was all she could muster to say.

“I just defended your honour,” he replied matter-of-factly. He regretted the action, assumed that the brief display of violence had blown any chances with the beautiful young girl. C’est la guerre, he thought.  

The landlord came over. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be moving on,” he said, but not disrespectfully. Ludlow nodded and threw a wad of bills onto the bar.

“Come on, Barbara. Let’s get out of here before the first Sevens show up.” He helped her into her coat. The poor girl was obviously in a state of shock.

He took her home, saw her off at her doorstep; a Victorian row house, typical student lodgings. At the top of the steps Barbara surprised him when she turned around and ran back down to the pavement. Her hands went into his overcoat to hold him, draw him close. She closed her eyes and bent down to gently kiss him on the forehead. “I’ve never had anybody . . .  . . . uh . . .  . . . defend my . . .  . . . uh . . .  . . . honour . . .     . . . before,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry about what happened back there, Barbara.” He eyes were at about neck level on the taller girl. 

“I’d like to see you again, Jonathon,” she said, regarding him over her wire-frames. She leaned down to kiss his forehead and lightly run her fingers through his hair. He just stood there looking up at her, silent, only his eyes visible under the light of the streetlamp on the corner. A definite non-verbal conversation occurred. “Oh, wot the hell,” Barbara said as she took his hand. “You defended my honour tonight. Why don’t you come in?”

*  *  *

The place was dark. Barbara turned on a small lamp on a hallway table by the doorway then indicated for them to remain silent with a finger to her lips. “Let me look in on my girlfriend,” she said in a low whisper, “she’s got an important exam tomorrow, so she was going to turn in early.” When Barbara said girlfriend Ludlow got the distinct impression she meant more than a friend who simply happened to be a girl, more than just a roommate. 

While she went down the hallway to the back of the house Ludlow’s eyes adjusted to the dark. At some point the interior of the older house had been remodelled in the modern style; it featured a modern kitchen arrangement with a counter that opened to the dining area, lots of bare brick where the plaster had been sandblasted back, and bare hardwood floors. A couple of comfortable sofas were arranged around a coffee table in front of a television set. There was a computer on a desk at a far corner and a large bookshelf full of textbooks, testimony to her student occupation. 

Barbara appeared behind the kitchen counter. She’d discarded the loosely knit black shawl in the back somewhere. “I have some cognac,” she said, holding up a bottle.

“Sounds fine.”

He sat on one of the tall stools by the kitchen counter while she located glasses and poured. Then she came around the counter with two snifters in her hands. “Let’s sit on the sofa, shall we?” 

They sat together, quite close. They clinked glasses. 

“To . . .?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Good health,” he said simply.

She smiled. “I’ll drink to that.”

They sipped their liquor, then Barbara replaced her glass to the coffee table and turned to face him. The chopstick came out of her bun and with a casual toss of her head her long blonde hair cascaded down in silky tresses. Ludlow received the distinct message that the evening wasn’t to be wasted on idle conversation. He put his glass beside hers on the table, then put an arm up, ran his fingers along the side of her face and tucked a strand of blonde hair back in place behind her ear. They’d kissed outside the door; the ice was already broken, so Ludlow didn’t hesitate. He placed his hand behind her head and gently pulled her toward him. She closed her eyes, he closed his; they exchanged a long, slow, open-mouthed soul kiss.

His other hand went to her lap, rested gently on her thigh. Barbara’s hand went to his lap and brushed gently across the hardening bulge in his trousers, almost by accident at first, then returning to blatantly stroke his hard rod, clearly signalling the direction their making-out was to take. Ludlow moved his hand up to caress her pert, young breasts. He ran his hand across her chest to cup and feel first one firm, round breast and then the other. Her breasts were full, yet constrained so tightly against the fabric of her garment that he could barely pinch her nipples. Barbara arched her back, pushing her chest out to where her globes were in danger of bursting free of the very cloth that restrained them. Slowly pulling her zippered front, her outfit’s open vee front widened. Ludlow accepted this as an invitation to run his hand inside and cup, caress and fondle her breasts, to tug and pinch at her nipples as their tongues continued to silently do battle in a duello d’amour.

Barbara willingly took his tongue deep into her mouth, stroking his hard cock through his trousers while letting his hands roamed freely across her body. It occurred to Ludlow that she was quite young enough to be his daughter, conceivably his granddaughter, even.  

His hand trailed downward tracing a line beneath her navel to the juncture of her thighs, but the wide belt buckle and the tightness of her pantsuit would not allow access; he could barely feel through the folds where the garment collected at her crotch. Exploiting this barrier to playfully tease him, she spread her legs wide, pulling the belt and fabric of her clothing tighter to her skin, a move that allowed him to run his hand completely across her pubic mound yet frustrated any efforts to move beneath her clothing. He rubbed her slit until the fabric beneath his fingertips smouldered with the heat of her pussy. Barbara then indicated that it was time to progress to the next level of lovemaking by breaking the kiss. “Let’s go into the bedroom,” she whispered. 

“Uh, your roommate?” Ludlow mentioned, out of discretion.

“I’ve got my own room. It’s okay,” she said. Her earlier comments to him concerning Lesbianism came to mind. “I said I’m experimenting with girls, right?” She loosened his tie and undid the first two buttons of his shirt. They got up and went to her room. 

The only light in her room was a light glow through closed Venetian blinds. He unfastened that annoying belt and peeled her out of the lime green playsuit. Now she stood before him wearing only fishnet pantyhose stockings over black lace panties. She was absolutely beautiful. Her hands went to undo his shirt, his trousers. Soon he, too, was quite naked. They kissed. Her hands went to caress his rigid tool, sticking out in front of him like a policeman’s nightstick, while he tickled and pinched her nipples. She backed away from him, pulled back the bedcovers, then positioned herself in the middle of the pillows. With her stocking clad legs crossed in front of her the fishnet material described parabolic patterns down the curvatures of her legs to where her ankles crossed in front of her crotch. She held her arms folded across her chest, barely concealing her magnificent tits, her hands resting upon opposite shoulders. While her position and attitude reminded Ludlow of some classic sex siren from the halcyon days of the freewheeling sixties, Barbara’s pose was completely spontaneous and unaffected. He joined her on the bed and they entwined themselves in each other.

The fishnet stockings were peeled off and tossed aside, her lace panties soon joined them on the floor. He kissed his way down her neck to her chest, kissing each breast in turn. She sighed as he licked and sucked her nipples. His hand went to that which was previously denied by layers of clothing; she willingly opened her legs to let him stroke the soft nether hair of her pussy. As he trailed fingertips across her labia her pussylips parted, allowing him to spread her moisture the length of her slit, up to her budding clitoris. He rubbed in slow, gentle circles, then withdrew his fingertips to place them at her mouth. She sucked them, licked them to make them wet, and he returned them to her nether lips, sliding wet fingers back and forth across her love button.

Barbara moaned in ecstasy. She spread her legs wide as he played with her pussy and clit. Ludlow mounted her, placed the head of his cock on her wet pussylips. He reached down and expertly parted her pussylips with his fingers before gently edging his blunt cockhead into her hot, wet pussy. He worked it back and forth until there was enough wetness to allow him to thrust into her. “OOOHHHHHHHHH!!!” she exclaimed, quite involuntarily, as he slid his rigid pole fully into her hot wet pussy.       

She wrapped her arms about him, her long legs entwining him like a spider monkey. Her mouth went to his, her lips formed an “o”, and she sucked upon his tongue. She wished to be filled with him, completely connected; it was almost as if he was fucking her mouth with his tongue at the same time he was fucking her pussy with his hard cock. She loved it. Ludlow’s short, compact body went up and down, in and out, slowly at first; his wide hands cupping her asscheeks, squeezing them and pulling her closer to him. 

Barbara now existed in a world that consisted solely of his hot dick and her wet pussy wrapped around it. She thrilled to the sensation of his shaft drilling her wet hole. Her hands went to his asscheeks, her fingers dug into the hard muscles there and urged him to plough her deeper, faster. Her nails were little daggers pushing him into her, urging Ludlow to increase the speed and power of his thrusts. Quite soon her pussy muscles twitched about his length, then clamped hard around his dick as she went into the first throes of orgasm.  

“OH, OH, OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!” she cried. Liquid squirted out of her pussy as she reached climax; slowly falling over a massive cliff and never reaching the bottom, riding a massive waterfall down to the churning waters below. Ludlow did not desist, as her pussy convulsed and spasmed he continued to plough her with his hot, hard dick. He finally pulled out, panting and groaning like a bull as he came in buckets. Thick, gooey strands of cum splashed her belly, her heaving chest, even her neck and her chin.

His now softening dick lay against on her pussy. He paused, chest heaving from his exertions. After awhile Ludlow rolled aside, then leaned over to kiss her cum-drenched body, first one breast, then the other; to suck one cum-covered nipple and then the other. 

Barbara pulled his face up to hers and kissed him. When their lips parted and their tongues met once more she tasted the semen on his lips. It was the first time she had ever tasted sperm; she was somewhat surprised to find the taste of a man’s seed was not at all unpleasant. 

They lay back and regarded one another in the dim light that seeped through the Venetian blinds, revelling in the afterglow of their lovemaking. After a long while Barbara got up, went to the bathroom and cleaned herself up. She returned with a wet washcloth and went about scrubbing Ludlow’s tool. His thick cock definitely twitched beneath her fingers with little post-orgasmic spasms. The cloth went to the floor. She climbed under the covers curled up in his arms; the tall, willowy Barbara was now a little girl seeking the quiet warmth and strength of her Daddy’s arms. After awhile she spoke.

“I don’t sleep with a man on the first night out,” she said quietly, her head on his chest. “You’re an exception.”

“I hope I’m not habit-forming,” he said.

“Baby, I think you’re heroin,” she said.



The Hottest Fire Ch. 06



Chapter 6. Love Affair

And so their affair began. Barbara wasn't interested in doing the dating thing, the club scene; the usual nightlife hangouts where the younger student crowd gathered to take hallucinogens and shake their sweating bodies beneath loudspeakers blaring deafening techno-pop noise. She was intrigued, rather, by Ludlow's quiet persona. He was urbane, sophisticated, much more mature than the student circles in which she usually moved. She was interested in his lifestyle; so different from the frenzied lives of the younger students, much more exciting in a simpler way. She wanted to get to know him better, to see his place, to possibly become a part of his life. Like everything about him even his car was simple, yet it reflected good taste and class; the Jaguar XJ12, in British racing green with an interior of soft, beige coloured calfskin. She felt an overwhelming urge to offer herself up to him, to spread open and lay bare the innermost recesses of her heart and soul. She wished to let him have his way with her. 

She arrived at his place the afternoon following their first evening together. Ludlow dwelled in a well-appointed apartment befitting a graduate student of means. Barbara liked his place, she liked his décor; simple modern in the Scandinavian style, lots of finished wood surfaces with furniture that featured chrome plated steel and leather upholstery. Walking in one entered a small vestibule, which opened to a large greatroom. The wall on the right was done in granite stones, a fireplace with a large hearth was set into it. A single framed piece of art decorated the large wall opposite; Barbara assumed it was a print. Later on she was astonished to discover that the piece was an original, done in the impressionist style by a contemporary artist of some renown. The wall at the far end of the room consisted large sliding glass doors that led to a balcony. A collection of houseplants made it resemble a small tropical rainforest. Barbara like the houseplants, she liked his well-equipped kitchen, and she especially liked the enormous master bathroom. The walk-in tiled shower stall, as big as a walk-in closet, with wide, stepped sides where one could sit at two different levels. When Barbara saw it she turned to him with a wide smile on her face and exclaimed, "Why, it's big enough to fuck in!" 

He smiled back. "Well, I suppose we should take a shower, then." Barbara smiled and silently started unbuttoning the front of her simple cotton dress without a moment's hesitation; it dropped to the floor, followed by her brassiere and white cotton panties. Then she was quite shamelessly nude. Ludlow glanced over Barbara's superb body with an approving eye; in the darkness of her room the previous evening he had not been able to fully appreciate the beauty of her naked body. Her incredibly firm breasts were not necessarily large, but with her slim young body they seemed to point straight out like the nose cones of a pair of fighter jets. Her belly was flat and as tight as a snare drum, developing to a slight bulge beneath her navel where a little bunny trail of short, golden hair led naturally down to the yellow fur of her nether hair. Barbara's ass was nice and round, her hips wide and well rounded, leading down to a pair of shapely thighs, a pair of nice-looking legs. 

A magnificent bird like this is wasted on the pigs of the footy team, Ludlow thought. 

Ludlow's clothing joined hers on the floor and he, too, stood nude before her. Now Barbara's eyes roamed over his naked body. Considering the conservative style of Ludlow's wardrobe, his age, his relative shortness of stature and the nondescript manner in which he carried and conducted himself, Barbara was pleasantly surprised to observe the hard muscular compactness of his body. His was a muscular upper torso, the result of years of punishing daily regimen. Thick, ropy sinews rolled like steel cables beneath the skin of his chest, shoulders and arms. He had only the briefest middle-aged gut; a slight, pleasant roundness about the middle that did not seem unnatural or the least bit unsightly. 

As her eyes travelled further downward she tried not to gape, but could not help herself. She found it pleasant to gaze upon his manhood, thickening now and poking forward; he sported a full, solid cock. It seemed the most natural thing to do to take a hold of it, to fondle it. Doing so she could feel his thick, meaty cock growing stiffer by the second beneath her finger's light touch. She pulled him gently, drawing him closer to her, closed her eyes and opened her mouth for a kiss. He grasped her ass cheeks in both hands and pulled her to him. She gently stroked his dick as they kissed. It was now hard as a wooden pole and pointing upwards. 

Then Ludlow broke the kiss, reached into the shower stall to adjust the stream of hot water. He led her into the roomy pleasure pit.

The shower nozzle shot needles of hot water over their naked bodies. Barbara stood facing the spray, holding her hair up with both hands and smiling at the pleasant sensations while he soaped her up from behind. He ran his hands over her firm, round breasts, cupping them, rolling her nipples in soapy fingers.

Ludlow moved on to soap her back, then roamed further south to ensure that her ass, too, was clean. He spread soapsuds across Barbara's firm, round ass cheeks. With the middle two fingers of one hand he traced a line up the crack of her ass and moved around in little circles to thoroughly clean her asshole. It was a pleasant surprise for Barbara to find that she enjoyed the attention he was paying to this very private part of her body. 

While he was preoccupied with her derriere, Barbara took the opportunity to shampoo her long hair. When she was lathered up she turned to shampoo his hair. They embraced as the suds rinsed off, running slick between their bodies; her breasts pressed against his chest, his hard, hot dick laying up flat against her belly. Barbara held his face in her hands and kissed him long and slow. Their tongues played little love-games. As she stroked his cock with a handful of soapsuds he became as a rock in her soap-filled hand. 

Barbara broke the kiss to concentrate on the cock she held in her hands. She rinsed the soapsuds off in the stream of warm water, then still gently holding on to his dick, she looked deep into his eyes and quietly said, "Fuck me." 

Without a word Ludlow turned Barbara around to face the tiled wall. Her back was to him once more, away from the stream of the shower. He proceeded to rub the head of his dick up and down the crack of her ass and between her legs, across her pussy. Barbara leaned forward, arched her back, and stood with her legs slightly parted to allow him room to enter her. As he slid the swollen head of his cock up against the outer lips of her pussy he could feel her heat and her wetness. She reached down between her legs, separated her labia with two fingers and said, "go ahead, lover. Stick it in." Ludlow thrust his hips forward ever so gently and slid his dick in up to the rim of the helmet.

The sensation of Ludlow's hot meat in her was terrific. Ludlow gingerly worked his dick in and out, allowing her wetness spread, to completely cover the head of his pole, before thrusting in as deep into her as he could go. Barbara sucked in her breath as she took him in all the way, balls to the walls.

Bent over at the waist and gripping a handrail to hold herself up, Barbara felt it was decidedly erotic to be skewered from behind while standing. The splashing water to their side gave their skin a pleasant wetness. She went up and down on the balls of her feet as his dick slid in and out, then turned to look back at him as he gently ploughed her hole. She almost felt as if her ass was lifted off the floor by his pole. Her wetness increased, a burning heat built up within her and her pussy muscles clamped around his swollen dick. They arrived at the edges of climax very quickly. Ludlow gripped her hips tight and pulled her ass toward him again and again and again, sinking his dick deeper and deeper into her until at last she cried out from sheer pleasure, "Ah! Ah! Ah! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" 

Her wet pussy clamped around his hot dick like a fist gripping a rubber ball. A heat and pressure built up within the head of his cock; his balls were in an uproar. Finally he withdrew, taking his red-hot dick in his hand and stroking himself off. He groaned, "Uh! Uh! Uh! UHHH!" as his hot seed splashed all over her ass.



The Hottest Fire Ch. 07



Chapter 7. The Education of Barbara

She liked his mature sophistication, his knowledge of physical love. She liked the skill and expertise he demonstrated in bedding her, his sensitivity to her sexual needs. For his part, Ludlow could understand why Barbara dabbled in lesbianism; while she was an enthusiastic bed-partner it was obvious that her previous boyfriends were ignorant finer points of lovemaking; she was far from fully versed in The Art of Love.

Her roommate was understandable unenthusiastic about Barbara's sudden renewed interest in heterosexual activities, however. As a result Barbara took to spending more and more time with Ludlow at his place.

The true education of Barbara started their second time together. 

He met her at the door to his place. Once inside they kissed, then Ludlow asked her to please wait while he attended to some things; she could make herself at home. While he puttered about Barbara decided to pleasantly surprise her lover. She wandered into the bedroom, stripped down to her underwear, lay back on the pillows and waited for him there. The sunlight poured in through the blinds, playing upon the firm curves of her body and emphasizing the contrast where the white lace of her undergarments lay against her cream-coloured skin. 

But it was Ludlow who surprised her when he walked into the bedroom with a towel over his shoulder, a can of shaving cream and a razor in his hand, a wide grin on his face. Barbara regarded him with a somewhat puzzled look. "It's time we do something about that hairy snatch of yours, young lady," he chuckled, indicating her crotch with his chin. 

He sat on the bed beside her and placed the shaving cream and razor on the side table before reaching for the silky white lace that encircled her hips. Barbara obediently lifted her ass so that he could remove her panties. He tapped the inside of her thighs, indicating for her to spread her legs. She did so without hesitation, quite shamelessly exposing her pussy to him in the well-lit room. The cool shaving cream tingled as it was applied between her legs, but she sat patiently with her legs spread wide apart as Ludlow carefully set about the task at hand. He started by narrowing down her triangle before moving lower to shave around her labia. 

Halfway through Barbara began quietly chuckling. "Am I tickling you?" he asked.

"No, it's not that," she said with quiet laughter.

"What, then?" he asked, as her laughter became a nearly uncontrollable giggle. 

"It's just that I just remembered," she laughed, "I have an appointment with my gynaecologist tomorrow!" They both laughed at this. Then as he continued, Ludlow remarked with a chuckle,

"Well, I imagine he's in for a surprise, then, isn't he?" Barbara blushed a deep red as she imagined old Doctor Basset of the University clinic's reaction tomorrow when she spread her legs tomorrow and exposed a freshly shaven pussy. 

Ludlow wiped her clean of the remaining shaving cream then peered closely to inspect his work, his face inches from her crotch. Then he went into the bathroom and returned with a pair of scissors and a comb. Barbara watched, fascinated with the attention he paid to this task while Ludlow cropped what little hair remained to a severely close trim. 

Finally done, he invited her to inspect the results of his labour in the full-length mirror on the bedroom door. Wearing nothing except her bra, Barbara stood before the mirror moving her hips this way and that to view her new look. The tight fitting push-up bra held her ample breasts out forward as if on a shelf; above her tight, flat belly and impossibly narrow waist. She ran her fingers through her new coiffure; he'd trimmed her hair to a tight Mohawk. All that remained was a simple strip of short fur; she was completely bald from the clit down. It was a statement of utter sexuality. "I like it!" she exclaimed happily as she turned to rejoin him on the bed. 

Out of consideration for Barbara's appointment the next day, Ludlow refrained from entering her that afternoon. He wouldn't have her showing up in the stirrups freshly fucked, swollen and gooey. Instead he spent the afternoon sharing with her the delights of oral sex. 

As a reward for the patience she had shown while being shaved Ludlow decided to go down on her first. He took some of the pillows Barbara sat up against the headboard with and placed them beneath her ass, elevating her crotch to his face. She smiled as he parted her legs and lowered his lips to kiss her smooth, naked slit. 

He kissed her lightly at first, darting his tongue in and out to deliver the faintest of licks. He rested his lips on her budding clitoris, barely brushing his tongue across it in agonizing torture. 

Barbara threw her head back, closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure. As he continued to tickle and lick her love-button, she ran her fingers through his hair and gently pulled his head closer between her legs, wordlessly urging him on. 

Ludlow responded by playing his wet tongue upon her clitoris, tenderly sucking it into in his lips while his fingers circled her labia, seeking entrance. His tongue darted down to wet her slit, then returned to play upon her quivering clit. He gently probed into her pussy as he continued to suck and lick. Barbara sucked her breathe in as two fingers slid into her wet hole. 

Barbara rocked back and forth and pulled his face harder against her crotch. She arched her back up and down like a fish landed on the deck of a boat as Ludlow's mouth brought her to higher levels of pleasure than she thought possible. In a hoarse whisper she begged him, "Please . . . . . . please . . . . . . suck my clit! SUCK MY CLIT!" 

Ludlow obliged her, savouring the sweet taste of her now free-flowing juices. With her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth set, Barbara was now in a universe that existed of only her wet pussy and Ludlow's face, his talented lips and tongue. She rocked her head back and forth on the pillows as anticipation steadily increased toward a massive climax; she stood at the top of an immense cliff and stared down at the ocean waves crashing hundreds of feet below, she rode a raging river toward the unseen drop-off of an enormous, gushing waterfall. 

Finally her head exploded as she released into a series of mind-blowing orgasms. Ludlow continued to fingerfuck her as he licked and sucked until Barbara could take it no more. Her pussy continued to twitch and contract around his fingers as she gently sought to push him away. "Please," she said in a weak voice, "enough . . . . . . enough . . . . . . I can't take it anymore . . ."

Ludlow removed his fingers, released her clit from his lips. He wiped her juices from him by rubbing his face against her closely-cropped pussy hair, and then moved up to hold her in his arms. They kissed, sharing the taste of her pussy as their tongues delved back and forth between their lips. Finally they broke the kiss. Barbara placed her head on his chest; Ludlow felt hot tears falling. He ran his fingers through her hair as she gratefully sobbed, "Oh lover, I've never come like that before!" 

As she recovered she wrapped her legs about him, rubbed her hot, wet pussy against his leg. Her hand reached down to gently hold his semi-rigid dick. She stroked him, bringing him soon to a solid hardness. Without a word Barbara lowered her head, parted her lips and took his hard dick into her wet mouth. 

In seeking to pleasure him with her mouth Barbara sucked so deep that she gagged and choked; her jaw soon hurt and she had to desist. Ludlow now showed her how to lightly stroke him with her fingers as she ran her lips and tongue up and down his cock. "A blowjob is really as much about giving a fellow a tug as it is sucking a fellow's dick," he told her. 

Barbara released his dick from her mouth. "A tug!" she remarked, her hand still holding his dick in front of her like a microphone.

"Yes, you know. Like a fellow tugs himself off," he answered quite forthrightly. 

Although unaccustomed to such frankness in bedroom matters, she appreciated his guidance. And she found he was right. It was easier to suck him off if she stroked his length with her hand. There was no pressure on her jaw or the back of her mouth as her lips licked and sucked about the head of his cock, only occasionally sucking his length fully in her mouth. 

"Have you ever actually seen a man come before?" he asked as she stroked him into her mouth. 

Barbara shook her head 'no' and mumbled "uummm-uummm" as she continued to mouth the head of his knob.

"Would you like to see me come?" he asked.

"Mmmm!" she answered, without releasing his dick from her mouth. The notion of watching him ejaculate excited her. 

"Make it wet with your mouth, then pull me off, honey," he said in a tone of careful guidance. "You can watch me come." Barbara did so, releasing a mouthful of saliva from her lips, allowing her fingers to freely slide up and down his pole. 

He was soon writhing on his back, his eyes shut tight. His hips went up and down as he sought to fuck her hand faster and faster. Barbara's eyes went wide, watching with fascination as a stream of hot jizz spurted out the end of his dick. She continued to stroke, laughing with joy as he thrust toward the sky. Several more jets of semen shot out; her hand was soon coated in the sticky, white fluid.



The Hottest Fire Ch. 08



Chapter 8. The Lebanese Lesbian

The focus of Ludlow’s investigations soon centred on the University’s Professor of Mathematics. Her name was Layla, on loan from the University of Beirut, a part of the much-lauded foreign-exchange program. The Board of Regents of the University would not have been quite so excited to learn that she was using her position to cover her activities as the ringleader of an underground network of extremist Middle Eastern terrorist operatives.  

Layla was the quintessential hot little Lebanese shish kabob; dark, flashing almond-shaped eyes and a wide smile of pearly white teeth. Her skin was olive-toned, the natural blonde highlights in her full head of chestnut brown hair bespoke of the sunnier climes of the Levantine. Even the way she spoke elicited visions of the mysterious kabala of the Near East; her accent was an exotic mix of Arabic with quasi-French overtones.  

Layla always dressed as if she were just about to attend some spectacular social event, with matching handbags and heels of all things. She was never without a silk scarf; she owned a vast collection, all in the most vivid blue and purple paisleys set tastefully on ochre and maroon backgrounds. 

Her scarves were her trademark, either pinned about her neck and shoulders with a gaudy brooch or quite often worn about her head to hold her hair in place during sunny or blustery weather. An apparent acknowledgment to the proper amount of modesty expected of an Arab woman, her scarves nonetheless never seemed able to completely conceal tantalizing glimpses of lace-trimmed undergarment at the bountiful curve of her full bosom.

With her round hips and magnificent ass Layla always caught the eye of faculty and students alike as she sashayed about campus, a flurry of silk skirts and clicking heels. Everything about her seemed to transmit an enthusiastic signal of vivacious sexual appetite. 

There was something in her scent; a certain muskiness beneath her exotic Oriental perfumes that triggered a man’s primitive urge to rut. Her dusky hue, the sun-toned highlights of her thick, silky brown tress evoked images of hotter, sunnier climes. One longed to stroke her naked, brown body. All the men on the faculty wanted to fuck her; the poor male students who sat across from her desk during the course of events quite often drooled outright; the poor fools simply weren’t prepared for such a barrage of outright sex appeal. The red-painted lips of her wide smile seemed to beg out loud for a hard, hot dick to suck upon. 

The many bouquets of flowers with which she was presented were acknowledged by the briefest of hugs, during which would-be suitors were held at the correct distance by a slight hand to the chest. She laughingly exchanged “air-kisses” when men attempted to greet her in the French fashion. Invitations to dinings-out and other excursions were fopped off on the flimsiest of alibis. She became known as something of a cock-tease. 

Alas, the pent-up desires of the men on campus were for naught; it was not common knowledge that in indulging her body’s natural hunger and cravings Layla preferred the company of women to that of men. Indeed, as an accomplished masturbatrix, Layla preferred the gratification available at her own fingertips to either of the above. 

For the time being Layla was happy the way things were. She had no wish to become entangled in a messy relationship with one of these penniless academics. Her dream was to successfully return to Beirut with enough funds saved up to buy an entire harem of Phillippina sex-slaves to would wait upon her hand and foot. Nightly she fingered her pussy to the fantasy of having three ‘little brown fucking machines’ pleasure her at once; one on each nipple, one down below sucking and licking her clit.   

Ludlow made his approach to Layla tepidly, using his cover as a graduate student to feel her out during a series of one-on-one meetings. It was a delicate and tenuous process, but also a surprisingly successful operation. Layla was a social gadfly and was genuinely charmed by the quiet, unassuming older graduate student who dressed nicely and was able to converse intelligently with her in three or four languages. Layla became quite friendly with Ludlow as he carefully spun his subtle web to ensnare her.

At the same time Ludlow had Barbara acquaint herself with Layla in an attempt to exploit what he suspected was the sexual predilection of the dusky demoness. Eventually, this ploy would succeed beyond his wildest expectations, though not in the precise manner that he suspected.

Employing the crudest of techniques, Ludlow arranged the circumstances for Barbara to encounter Layla. He encouraged the young woman to doll herself up in a tasteful manner that was subtly seductive yet at the same time overwhelmingly signalled sexual availability. Unbeknownst to her, Barbara was now playing a passive role in the game of clandestine operations. Although Ludlow felt some tepid feelings of guilt, his conscience was assuaged by the notion that he was merely using Barbara as bait, a lure to ensnare Layla. 

Barbara selected a long gypsy skirt of crushed black chiffon and a white cotton peasant girl blouse cut low enough to display her cleavage to it’s best advantage, yet not in an overt way. A silk scarf tied about her hips was held in place with a decorative belt of Navajo silver that advertised the roundness of her hips, a pair of spiked-heeled boots of soft calfskin poked out where the calf-length black skirt ended. Barbara had explored the hippy marketplaces to find just the right broad bracelet cuff-pieces of ethnic silver to wear about her wrists. She wore nothing about her neck save for her customary choker of black velvet ribbon. The whole dashing ensemble was completed with gold hoop earrings and a scarf about her hair that made her look like an MGM pirate. 

Only Barbara could pull off wearing an outfit like this; the sweet and innocent look of Barbara’s natural visage served to tone down what might otherwise be an outrageous costume. The message she transmitted was loud and clear: here was a woman confident in herself and her own sexuality, willing to take the high road in pursuit of carnal adventure. Layla practically drooled when she first laid eyes on the sexy swashbuckler.          

It was at one of the many wine and cheese affairs that the faculty hosted on a frequent basis. Ludlow wore his customary tweeds, complete with leather elbow patches and pipe, but chose a black turtleneck over his usual collar and tie to present the image of a modern sporting gentleman upon whose arm the dazzling and vivacious Barbara would not look out of place. Indeed, amongst weirdo’s and beatniks who occupied the academic world the couple blended in quite naturally.  

They had just entered the hall and received refreshment; Barbara held a glass of Chardonnay while Ludlow nursed his trademark Scotch. Layla appeared before them almost immediately. She wore a deep purple mini-dress with matching handbag and heels. The flowing scarf of gold-coloured silk was held about her shoulders with an enormous topaz brooch. Her hair was done in a windswept coiffure; she looked magnificent. 

Layla made no disguise of her immediate interest in Barbara. “Jonathon Ludlow, bon soir! How simply wonderful to see you here this evening!” Air kisses to the cheek completed her continental greeting. “And do tell me, qu’est que c’est cette petit ouiseau ici avec toi?” This last indicating the stunning young bird on his arm. 

“Miss Layla, allow me to introduce ma cher ami, la madamoiselle Barbara.” Barbara smiled demurely; Layla grinned like the wolf, sizing up Little Red Riding Hood.

“Une pleasure a fait votre connaissance,” Barbara said in her best schoolbook French.

“J’espere,” Layla replied with obvious desire. I hope. Ludlow’s entrapment campaign was off to a promising start.

The event continued; Layla would not leave Barbara’s side. She held Barbara’s hand and would not let go, as if she were claiming ownership. For her part, Barbara merely felt complimented by the beautiful woman’s attentions. Although she detected that Layla’s interest in her was more than mere friendship, Barbara naively assumed that Ludlow’s presence indicated her present status regarding sexual orientation and availability.  

Having played this segment of the gambit to the hilt, Ludlow took Barbara’s arm and they departed the affair early; Layla’s frustration showed in her eyes, in the terse set of her teeth as they bid their farewells. Ludlow felt confidant that Layla would seek Barbara out later, that through this he would somehow gain a position of advantage over her. Leaving Layla high and dry early in the game was a part of his plan; to cock-tease the cock-teaser. By playing on the Lebanese Lesbian’s hot desire for Barbara’s exquisite body, Ludlow hoped to force her into some act of misjudgement, to cause her to somehow mistakenly expose her connections to the underground terror cells he knew to be lurking just beneath the surface of the University’s student society.

Even in his wildest dreams, Ludlow could not imagine the success of this early manoeuvre. Layla returned to her apartment that evening quite alone. Tonight none other would do for her, she must have, she would have this sexy one she had met tonight; this Barbara. There was the annoying presence of the girl’s man friend that she would have to somehow deal with. Not a problem, one way or another Layla would take the beautiful young girl away from him. It would not be difficult. After all, he was already past his prime, practically an old man? What could such a ripe, young flower be doing in the company of such an old camel? If she were a man it might be difficult to steal her away from him; he seemed to have money, and some kind of charisma that attracted her to him. But as a woman, Layla knew she could get closer to Barbara. She could subtly seduce the young girl through the pretence of friendship that would gradually develop into a staged “exploration” of each other’s sexuality.

Once in the door to her apartment Layla kicked off her heels. She unzipped her dress as she walked into her bedroom and slid out of the garment, revelling in the feel of fresh air about her nearly naked body. Layla regarded herself in the full-length mirror on her bedroom door. Her black lace bra and panties lay upon her supple body’s curves like decorations, in wonderful contrast to her golden brown skin. She shook her head and her tresses fell about in wild abandon. She had to admit, even to herself, she was nothing less than stunningly beautiful. How could any being on this earth find her less than irresistible, man or woman? 

Layla took her scarf and drew it slowly across the round tops of her generous breasts, held it against her belly, smooth and pleasantly round from years of belly-dancing performed in the souk’s of every capital of the Arab world. She turned and viewed her ass; firm and muscular, high and tight, encased in the briefest triangle of black lace. Her shapely legs disappeared into the lace tops of her sheer, black silk thigh-high stockings. Who could blame her for admiring herself in such a fashion? Why should she love anyone but herself, her own body?

Layla unhooked her bra, tossed it aside, cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples until they stood out deliciously. She watched herself do so in the mirror, thrilling to the sensations to her nips, delighted by the beauty she observed before her. Her hands travelled downward, she hooked her thumbs into the thin straps of her string bikini panties and gradually drew them downward, enjoying every moment of viewing herself as her panties slid ever so slowly down her hips, across the tops of her thighs to fall ever so softly to the floor. She left her stockings on, enjoying the way they presented her nude body. She wandered her hands back up her body, pausing to trail across her slit; freshly shaven quite bald, it resembled a ripe peach. Her fingers travelled upwards to play at her breasts, to once more pinch her pointy nipples. She lifted her arms above her head to hold her hair away from her neck as she viewed herself in all her natural glory. In the Arab fashion, her body was totally hairless from the neck down. 

Layla backed away from the mirror to lay back on her wide bed. It was time to revel in the exquisite pleasure of self-gratification. She closed her eyes and thought of the beautiful young girl Barbara, her beautiful face, imagined kissing her sweet lips, her firm young tits. As she fantasized about running her lips over Barbara’s naked body, kissing her slit and tasting her sweet young pussy, she opened her eyes ever so slightly to watch herself in the mirror suspended above her on the ceiling. She drew her heels up, spread her legs, licked her fingers, and began to slowly stroke her clit in a gentle, circular motion. 

Oh! How she loved to pleasure herself! Oh! How she would love to be pleasured by the young girl Barbara! She stroked herself up and down her slit; she was very wet. She brought her fingers to her mouth to taste herself, sucked her fingers and made them wet then returned them to apply this wetness back and forth across her clitoris. The sensation was truly wonderful. 

Layla closed her eyes and imagined the lovely young Barbara. Barbara, dressed as she was tonight at the 'do', a lovely piece of baklava. She imagined Barbara naked, she imagined kissing Barbara’s tits, licking her lovely young pussy. Without removing her hand from diddling herself, Layla reached over with her other hand to the bedside table, opened the drawer and retrieved her ‘little friend’; a sturdy, ten-inch vibrator tastefully done in cream coloured plastic. 

She brought the large phallus to her lips and licked it, made it very wet, then lowered it to join her other hand, already working hard at pleasuring herself. She withdrew those fingers and replaced them upon her clit with the blunt end of her tool, manipulated a switch on the base of the device with her thumb and a pleasant buzz instantly delivered irresistible pleasure across her entire pussy. While the apparatus delivered immeasurable joy, Layla delved down with the fingers of her other hand to stroke herself, to gently explore the wetness of her inner labia.  

And yet as she masturbated to the thought of Barbara’s naked body, the image of the man Jonathon Ludlow came to the front of her mind. She is fucking him! she thought, what can she possibly see in him? What can he possibly do for her? And as she thought of Ludlow, it was almost natural that a mental image of a penis automatically came to the forefront of her mind. An erect penis, long and hard, curving upward; tantalizing her, beckoning her. His penis. 

She closed her eyes tight and shook her head from side to side. No! No! she hissed through clenched teeth as she rubbed the buzzing dildo manically across her swollen clitoris. And yet in her mind’s eye she imagined parting her lips to mouth his cock, to lick and suck, to gain sustenance from the nectar that flowed forth. She could not resist these thoughts, and as they consumed her imagination she inserted two fingers into her pussy and began fucking herself. She fucked herself as she would be fucked if it were Ludlow fucking her. She imagined him humping her with his short, round, frog-like body, his pole drilling her to the mattress. 

Her hand went up and down manically, her fingers went in and out of her wet pussy like an engine’s piston in a cylinder while the vibrating plastic cock tormented her clitoris ceaselessly. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth clenched. She tossed her head from side to side; as she fucked herself relentlessly with one hand, the fingers of her other hand worked her clit mercilessly with the buzzing vibrator as the thought of Ludlow’s ass going up and down on top of her overwhelmed her. Her pussy muscles clamped around her fingers, fluid splashed over her hand and the massive hot wave of pleasure that was building up within swept over her entire body, to be followed by another, then another and another until, at last, she was spent.

She was almost too weak to thumb the switch on the base of the vibrator to end its maddening buzz. She tossed it aside, ran her fingertips across her satiated body, lightly pinched her nipples, anointing them with her love juices. Layla opened her eyes and regarded herself in the mirror suspended above the bed. Her legs were spread wide apart, feet planted on either side with her stocking clad knees up, the bare skin of her open thighs contrasting to the black lace tops of her stockings. The vibrator lay on the bed beside her hips, a loyal friend, now silent witness to one more of Layla’s punishing self-gratification sessions. 

With fingertips still buried in the folds of her bald pussy she diddled herself lightly, enjoying the aftershocks of her orgasm. The other hand lay across her breasts; in the mirror she seemed attempting to cover them out of some false sense of modesty, yet this only served to add to the overall effect of pure sin. Her hair was spread about her head over the sheets; she was wild in her abandon. She was a purely sexual being in a total animal state. When she closed her eyes the image of Ludlow’s giant penis returned to tempt and torment her once more.



The Hottest Fire Ch. 09



Chapter 9. The Recruitment of Barbara

The time had come for Ludlow to completely reveal himself to Barbara. A thorough background investigation had been discreetly conducted; as he had hoped and expected, Barbara’s credentials checked out. Over a period of a few weeks Ludlow initiated a series of seemingly impromptu conversations regarding the current world conflict against terrorism. He judiciously broached the subject of patriotism with her, particularly the area of one’s patriotic duty to Queen and Country. 

Ludlow determined that the young girl’s angst was nothing more than usual for a person her age, a healthy questioning of the ways of the world and a natural anxiety concerning one’s place within society, and was pleased to discover a strong patriotic sentiment within her. The long list of atrocities visited upon innocents by the terrorist forces had made rebellious anti-establishment sentiments of the past blasé and irrelevant. Barbara recognised this as a war for the very survival of Western civilization itself. Encouraged by the emotion he saw in her eyes as she voiced her opinions, Ludlow carefully went about the recruitment of Barbara. 

They sat at his table, the morning sunlight pouring in as they enjoyed their morning tea and toast. He had already gotten up earlier to do his morning callisthenics and was already showered and shaved. She wore one of his shirts and apart from a skimpy pair of lacy white panties, nothing else. 

“Barbara, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said in a flat tone that caught her attention. The young girl looked at him in a peculiar way; expectant, curious.

“It’s time for you to know a little more about me.”

“You’re married.”

“No,” he laughed, “not that.”

“You’re HIV-positive.”

“No, not that either. I can show you test results if you wish,” he assured her.

“What, then? You couldn’t possibly be gay,” Barbara mused aloud.

“No,” he laughed. “What I want to tell you is that I’m not exactly a graduate student.”

“What? You just hang out here because you’re a schoolgirl groupie?” she asked in jest.

“That’s it,” he replied with a grin. Barbara smiled at this and the tension was broken. Whatever the news was, the big two had already been shot down. Her natural curiosity as a woman bedevilled her, and she was eager to learn what it was he wished to impart.

Ludlow went to a sideboard, withdrew some things from a drawer and laid them out on the table. They were official government identification cards, firearms licences, a passport and driver’s license; all of which sported Ludlow’s photograph but with a different name. 

“This is me,” he said. “I usually keep these locked away in a safe, in London.”

Barbara was puzzled. “What does it mean?”

“It means that the name you know me as, Jonathon Ludlow, is a persona.”

“You’re not . . .   . . . you?” she asked, trying to piece it all together.

“I can assure you that I most definitely AM me,” he said. “Think of Jonathon Ludlow simply as a nom de plume, or perhaps, more appropriately, a nom de guerre.”

Barbara knew the meaning of this phrase: nom de guerre, or ‘war-name’, as opposed to a writers’ nom de plume; ‘pen-name’. She still struggled to put it all together. “Who are you?” she asked, a shrewd look developing about her eyes that Ludlow found incredibly sexy.

“The fact that I don’t go by my true identity is not particularly significant, it’s merely a security measure. You may as well know, my real name is Patrick Cochran, as you can see for yourself from the documents before you. I am Irish by birth, born in the Republic down in County Galway. I immigrated to Canada at the age of twenty-two following some nasty involvement in the Troubles. My Canadian citizenship allows me a certain degree of flexibility in travelling abroad; Canadians are viewed with as somewhat neutral by governments and people that normally view Britain and America in a hostile manner.”

“I think I’m beginning to get it now,” she said quietly. His next words confirmed her growing suspicions, as far-fetched as they seemed to her incredulous ears.

“I work in the service of her Majesty’s Government. Because of my previous involvement in certain Irish revolutionary organizations, that in itself is reason enough to mask my identity, to protect my family from reprisals, if nothing else. I work for a department of the Intelligence Services, an organization that is so compartmented, buried so deep beneath layers of bureaucracy that it is known simply as ‘The Organization’. Our mission is counter-intelligence; that is, the ferreting out of hostile intelligence services’ operations, and the elimination of such operations.”

“Elimination?” 

“By whatever means necessary,” he replied tersely. “This war we are in against the terrorist forces is a new kind of war; a secret war, but a war nonetheless. We practise war in its’ purest form, if such a concept is legitimate, but this war, like all wars, has a side that is rude, crude and extremely brutal, of that I can assure you.”

The dark shadow that crossed the pretty young girl’s face, the shudder he detected in her body reassured him; Barbara was no young idealist. The concept of cloak and dagger held no inspiring lure of false glory for her. 

“If all of this is so absolutely secret, then why are you telling me?” she asked, quite astutely.

This was the point in the conversation that Ludlow had anticipated, had tried to prepare himself for, had agonized over for weeks. Would she believe now that their meeting at the art exhibition was entirely spontaneous, that their love was genuine, or would the proposal he was about to offer darken her heart out of a sense of betrayal, a feeling that she had been used all along? He chose his next words very carefully.

“Sooner of later, Barbara, it would be necessary that you find out, one way or the other.” 

She remained silent. He continued. “We met, we’re having a love affair. It’s a beautiful thing. For our love to go on, the truth about me has become a burden that must be released.”

Barbara nodded her head slightly, indicating agreement, approval. Her eyes signalled doubt, however. He sensed her suspicion that perhaps their affair was nothing more than a game, a part of some undercover campaign; that she was nothing more than a pawn in the shadow war that governments and anti-governments were currently embroiled in.

“I love you, too, Jonathon. I’m sorry, I can’t think of you as ‘Patrick’. I love Jonathon, or at least I think I do. Oh, it’s so very confusing!” 

“It’s okay, Barbara. You can call me whatever you like. Nowadays I go by Jonathon Ludlow. As far as I’m concerned, Patrick Cochran ceased to exist a long, long time ago. Merely an identity I use for official purposes only anymore.”

“Jonathon, Patrick, how many other names do you go by? How many other women do you love?” the young woman was on the edge of despair; it was a very delicate moment for Jonathon to navigate. 

“Well, Barbara, I won’t lie; there have been others in the past. And while it’s true that a man, or a woman for that matter, can make love to multiple partners, practically at the same time upon occasion, I personally believe that it’s impossible to have romantic love for more than one person. I love you, Barbara. My heart is yours and yours alone, as I’m sure yours is for me.” He paused, then went on. “I don’t know where our love is to go, but I want it to go on forever. You are the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me.” This was the most sublime moment of truth in Ludlow’s entire life.  

Barbara beamed, her heart flooded with a warm glow of love for this peculiar man sitting before her, this most improbable secret agent. She reached across the table and took his hands in hers. “I love you, Jonathon, or whoever you are. I think you’re the most beautiful man in the world.” She had to release one hand from her grasp of his to wipe the tears that threatened to flow like water. She was overwhelmed by the emotion that flooded her being. “I don’t care who you are. I love you.”

He was overcome with an incredible sense of relief at successfully revealing the truth about himself to her. He wasn’t quite out of the woods, yet, however. One delicate matter had been successfully negotiated, but another still remained. 

“There’s something else I need to go over with you, Barbara,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Not another earth-shattering revelation? I don’t think I can handle two in one day,” she said, half in jest.

“Well, you must understand, given my line of work, I couldn’t simply reveal myself to you, tell you of The Organization and the nature of our operations, without first having your background fully investigated, for security reasons of course.”

Barbara looked startled but didn’t say anything.

“I’m glad to say that it was reported to me by our vetting department that you fully checked out. Let me also say that I did not personally involve myself in your background investigation; it was conducted in a thoroughly professional manner, quite discreetly, and in accordance with the law and government policies concerning the privacy rights of British subjects.”

“Well, um, ah . .” she said, not knowing what quite to say.

“I know how you feel, Barbara. It feels like you’ve been defiled, somehow, to learn that government agents have been snooping through your private life.”

“Well, yes, it does, actually,” she replied, somewhat tersely.

“Can you understand the absolute necessity of such actions? I mean, I couldn’t very well expose myself and our operations to you, and then discover that you’re sympathetic to, ah, certain political movements, or worse, that you turn out to be an actual enemy operative. The current situation, this war we’re in, makes such precautions mandatory.”

“Well, I suppose . . .”

Then he dropped the bomb. “There’s another reason the investigation into your background was initiated.”

Barbara merely arched an eyebrow. Ludlow was struck for the millionth time by the pure simplicity of her classic beauty.

“We want you to come on board, to become an operator.”

There was a long silence. Barbara looked at him, then looked away, took a sip of tea, then put her cup down. “I don’t know, Jonathon,” she said in a very low voice. “I’m not sure I know what this all means.”

“It means that not only does your background check out, but that you possess certain credentials and personal qualities that have been judged to be impeccable, to say the least.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing you’ve got a near-genius IQ, whether you know it or not.”

“So? I’m sure lot’s of people do, here in Uni.”

“Yeah, but they’re not all making it with one of the Organization’s field operatives.”

“What are you saying? Jonathon, have you recommended me for a job with your people?”

“Let’s just say that in the process of initiating your investigation, the notion of signing you on seemed to be a natural development. I saw it as a possible opportunity. I’ve loved you for quite some time now, I don’t want to say goodbye anytime soon, and it seems a likely way for us to stay together as a couple, indefinitely.”

Barbara seemed to smirk at this. “Jonathon, are you proposing to me?”

“Well, yes, Barbara. You could look at it that way. I suppose I am proposing. If we’re going to stay together, be an item, then you’re going to be onboard to a greater or lesser degree, one way or the other. What do you say? Are you in or out?”

“I must say, this is the most peculiar proposal a girl could possibly expect.”

“You’re probably overwhelmed by all this; I’ll give you some time to think it over.”

“Thanks. How soon do you want an answer?”

“Oh, I’ll give you thirty seconds or so,” he answered with a chuckle. Barbara laughed out loud, like a shout, got up and came around the table to straddle him where he sat in his chair. She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him; long, slow, deep and with feeling.

“I love you, Jonathon Ludlow, or whoever you are,” she said with laughter.

“I love you too, Barbara.”

“Let’s fuck,” she said. 

Her hand went to his lap, her fingers found his cock through his trousers. He became instantly hard. 

Barbara scooted back from where she straddled his lap in order to undo his belt and trousers. This accomplished, she went to her knees on the floor before him and pulled his trousers down around his ankles. He was practically pinned down; he could only sit and regard her while his dick pointed straight up at the ceiling. Barbara leaned forward, continuing to regard him over her blue-tinted granny glasses as she parted her lips ever so slightly to kiss the head of his cock.

Barbara proceeded to demonstrate her newly acquired skill and finesse at the art of fellatio. Gripping his dick in front of her, she moved her head about as she gently licked and kissed her way down his shaft. She tenderly nibbled at his balls with her lips, tickled the sensitive skin with her tongue, rubbed the side of his cock against her face and revelled in the feeling of his hot, hard flesh against her cheek. A glistening drop of fluid formed at his dick’s tiny slitted end. Barbara stuck her tongue out and licked it, then opened her mouth and rolled her tongue all about his cockhead. 

Then Barbara looked him straight in the eye, opened her lips wide and she took his erect penis deep into her mouth. She sucked his cock deep into her mouth until her lips reached the base, then slowly released it only to take him in again. She continued to maintain steady eye contact as she sucked his length in and out, again and again, making his dick wet with her saliva and stroking his slick length with her hand until Ludlow’s cock was as hard as an iron bar.

Now Barbara arose to stand before him. She unbuttoned her shirt with deliberate slowness, tossing her long blonde hair casually to one side in a gesture that was simply magnificent. As she leisurely undid her shirt and slowly peeled it away, Ludlow managed to kick off his shoes, free his ankles from the restraints of his trousers, pull off his shirt and toss it to the side. Barbara slowly pulled her panties to the floor, then moved toward him and hiked a leg over his lap to straddle him once more. Reaching down she parted her labia with her fingers, then gently lowered her wet pussy onto his rock hard cock.

After impaling herself upon him she sat still for a moment with her arms about his neck. His hard meat filled her with a searing heat; her pussy engulfed his dick with a tight hot, wet grip. He felt the muscles of her pussy walls clench about his length once, twice, in involuntary spasms. She shuddered, then ever so slowly began to lift herself up and down on his rod. 

“Oh God, I’m coming!” she cried as she almost immediately went into the first throes of orgasm. She placed one hand flat on his chest, put the other around his neck to hold her to him as her body quivered and shook. Ludlow had her pillowy tits in his face as Barbara humped him; he nibbled and sucked first one nipple, then the other, driving her insane with pleasure. 

Barbara was now driving herself up and down on his cock with a purpose. Her pussy clenched his thick, meaty pole in a series of spasms as her body was overwhelmed by wave after wave of blissful pleasure. “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!” she grunted; her juices flowed freely as she humped his cock; she was in a total state of rut. All she wanted, all she knew was to fuck, fuck, fuck his pole until at last she was spent and she could fuck no more. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! OHHH!” she cried, “I’m coming! I’m coming! Omigawd I’M COMING!” She collapsed against his chest, her hips moving involuntarily back and forth, the muscles of her pussy gripping him and twitching uncontrollably as she experienced wave after orgasmic wave coursing through her loins.

Barbara finally rested, impaled upon him still. Overcome by gratification and the intensity of her multiple orgasm, she sobbed into his chest. “Oh baby, you’re so good for me,” she cried in a soft voice. She lifted her face, held his face in her hands. They shared a long, slow, soul kiss. Still rock solid, Ludlow began to gently push upward, causing Barbara to shift her weight about in his lap, so sensitive was her pussy following her monumental series of climaxes. She laughed as they kissed, reached down to place her hands on his hips and slowly lifted herself off of his dick. There was an audible ‘pop’ as they parted. 

“Oooh, baby, that was a good fuck!” she said with a smile, now standing nude before him. “I can barely stand up!” 

“But what about me? I’m not finished yet!” Ludlow said in mock protest, indicating his solid rod, which still pointed skyward. 

Barbara looked at his dick and simply smiled. “You know what? I think I’ve got to brush my teeth,” she announced as she turned and walked toward the bathroom, pausing to look over her shoulder at him and smile. Her blue-tinted granny glasses gave her a certain sexy coquettishness as she walked about with her long blonde hair reaching down to her naked round ass. 

Ludlow’s momentary sense of consternation was relieved moments later when Barbara returned, naked still, a glass of water in one hand and a tube of toothpaste in the other. Once more she knelt down before him, uncapped the tube and squeezed out a line of toothpaste all around the head of his cock until it resembled a fleshy ice cream cone. She put the tube of toothpaste on the table beside her and took healthy a swig of water from the glass. Holding her lips shut tight so as not to loose a drop of water, she placed them on the very tip of his cockhead. Without loosing a drop of water she slowly worked her lips about his length to take him completely into her mouth.

He was instantly engulfed in a whole new world of intense sensation as the combination of cold water, toothpaste, and the soft, wet warmth of her mouth was applied to the hot, sensitive flesh of his freshly-fucked cock. 

She ran her lips up and down his tool, licking every inch, then took him into her mouth started sucking up and down until he was harder than steel. She looked up at him over her blue-tinted glasses and smiled, forming an “o” with her finger and thumb to slowly begin jacking him off into mouth, making sure to lubricate with plenty of saliva from her parted lips.

The alternating sensations her wet mouth delivered to his rod, both hot and cold at the same time, as she slid her hand up and down his slick length were overwhelming; Ludlow couldn’t hold back much longer. His balls were already in a turmoil; a pressure built up in his tool. Finally it was too much, more than he could bear. With a release of absolute pleasure his first spurt of come jetted out and splashed on her cheek. Barbara sat up and jacked him off to completion, watching with a studied interest his hot, white spurts pouring down his pole like lava from a volcano. His hot sperm coated the back of her hand. When he was finished she released him and looked at her cum-covered hand. In spur-of-the-moment impulse she brought the back of her hand to her mouth and licked up some of the white goo. “Mmm. . . ” she said with a smile, once again finding the taste of semen not at all unpleasant. She wiped a line of cum off her cheek with a finger and popped that into her mouth as well. “Mmm!” she said. Wiping her hand clean on the sheets, she leaned over to start licking his dick clean with her tongue. 

As Barbara continued her ministrations his dick didn’t remain limp for long; Ludlow soon hardened to another raging hard-on. Barbara sensed his renewed vigour; she began sucking his cock once again. She sucked with a purpose, stroking him into her mouth as her mouth went up and down on his pole. Ludlow thought that his heart had stopped. “Ah! Ah! AAAAHHHHHHHHH!” he cried, amazed to find himself coming a second time; this time his semen flowed like water from a tap. Barbara took it all in her mouth, swallowing as much as possible, though some escaped her lips and oozed down to flow over her fingers, down the length of his shaft. 




The Hottest Fire Ch. 09



Finally he finished spurting; it seemed as if he had come in gallons. Barbara licked him clean once more, then sat up and casually wiped her face with the back of his hand. She had a shameless grin on her face. “They say it’s very important to brush your teeth more than once a day, you know,” she said chirpily. 

Ludlow couldn’t resist. “Well, you’ve certainly become the expert cocksucker, haven’t you, my dear?” he said with an erstwhile smile. Barbara’s silent answer was to lean over and plant a big, open-mouthed tongue-kiss on him. He enjoyed the feel of her naked body pressed against his as together they shared the smell and taste of his cum. 



The Hottest Fire Ch. 10



Chapter 10. Barbara’s Advanced Training

That afternoon Ludlow took Barbara to London in the Jag, to a certain Victorian row house in Kensington. There he introduced her to the Iron Lady. The Iron Lady looked very elegant in a simple blue dress with a double strand of pearls around her neck; a golden silk scarf about her shoulders was held in place by a cameo brooch. She greeted Barbara in classic aristocratic manner, pro-offering her gloved hand to be kissed while at the same time managing to exude a friendly warmth. It seemed to Barbara that the Lady was somehow subtly suggesting that Life itself was nothing more than an amusing distraction.   

“So this is the fresh meat, then, is it Jonathon?” she asked, choosing her crude expression for sheer effect upon Barbara. Startled, Barbara glanced over to Ludlow with widened eyes. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered respectfully. 

“Hmmm, good then. I think I’m going to enjoy training you, then, young miss,” she said, speaking directly to Barbara. Her eyes travelled blatantly up and down Barbara’s lush, ripe body. Barbara had chosen a long, navy blue, sleeveless over-garment cut low that presented her tits to their best advantage; sitting up and pretty, a nice pair of cupcakes. Indeed, she seemed to be literally bursting out of her bodice. It was done up in the front with a long row of tiny black buttons, cut open below the waist and featured a slit in the back; a sort of equestrian outfit, her black leather miniskirt did not seem at all gaudy or ostentatious. She wore one of Ludlow’s white shirts; a white button-down collar number with the long sleeves rolled up at the cuffs. The necktie she wore, Ludlow’s also, lay between her bulging tits and almost gave her the countenance of a schoolgirl. Her blonde hair, plaited in braids that hung down over each shoulder, added to the effect, but the wickedly high-heeled shoes she wore, with little straps that buckled about her ankles, made the schoolgirl-ish look give way to a sort of wild adventuress air. A riding crop would not have been out of place.      

The Iron Lady turned to Ludlow, “Does she know exactly what she’s getting involved in here?”

“Only in the most general of terms, ma’am,” Ludlow replied.

“Good, then. I tell you what, Jonathon. Due to the urgent state of the ongoing operation, why don’t you let young Miss . . .”

“Barbara,” Barbara interjected, “my name is Barbara.”

The Iron Lady gave Barbara a look that could freeze mercury over the tops of her tortoise-shell reading glasses. “. . . Miss Barbara and I get acquainted, and start with her training program,” she said acidly. “You can return to University College, Jonathon, and I’ll let you know when you can return to pick up Miss Barbara.”

“Very well, ma’am. About when might that be?”

“In about two weeks.”

Barbara stood quite demurely, clutching her handbag in front of her, her back straight and her titties pushed out, pert and impudent. Butterflies raged in her stomach, from the thought of unknown territory that lay ahead.

“Very well, ma’am,” Ludlow remarked. Jonathon turned to Barbara and they exchanged a soft, brief kiss on the lips. She felt like clutching him; she did not want him to leave. Barbara’s eyes revealed her concern. Ludlow gave the nervous girl a wink and a smile to cheer her up. “It’s quite all right,” he said. “just think of it as an in-depth studies-observation project in one of your sociology classes. That’s all it is, really. You’ll see.” 

“I love you, Jonathon,” she said simply.

“I love you, too, ducks.”

“It’ll be a long two weeks, darling.”

“It’ll be over before you know it, love, and it’s for the best. You’ll see.”  

They kissed again, lightly, then he turned to leave the house. The Iron Lady rose to see him to the door. At the door they held hands briefly, exchanged polite kisses on the cheek in the French fashion. She looked him in the eye; Ludlow detected a softening in her normal haughty persona. “She’s a beautiful young woman, Jonathon,” she said, quite out of character.

“Thank you.”

“I think you’re a very lucky man.” 

“Please don’t be too hard on her,” he said.

“It takes the hottest fire to make the hardest steel,” the Bitch replied, returning to her normal demeanour. Ludlow nodded; it was true of his own training. The young girl must face her own trials and tribulations and emerge, stronger and the better for it. The Bitch softened again, placed a gloved hand to his face and lightly stroked his cheek with a finger. “We’ve had our moments together, Jonathon,” she said quietly, “let her have her turn.”

Ludlow nodded. They stood silently for a moment, holding hands and facing one another. The Bitch lightly squeezed his hands. “Goodbye, Jonathon.” He closed his eyes and ever so lightly kissed her on the lips.

“Goodbye, ma’am.”

When Ludlow left the Iron Lady returned to the room and said to Barbara, “Now then, young lady, why don’t we sit down and have a cup of tea, and we’ll go over your training program before we get started.” They moved into the front sitting room. The room was stark, almost barren, yet despite the bare walls and the uncarpeted hardwood floorboards, was appropriately appointed with a few pieces of silk-upholstered furniture that seemed not out of place. Yellow light of the afternoon’s sun flooded in through the swathes of gauzy drapes that adorned the two broad windows on either side of the white marble fireplace. A girl in a traditional French maid’s attire was placing a tray bearing a porcelain tea service on a small side table.

“Thank you, Gabrielle, that will be all for now.” The French maid performed a courtesy, of all things, and turned to leave the room. When she did so Barbara became aware that the maid’s outfit was actually only white cuffs and a frilly starched white apron worn over a black fishnet body stocking. Barbara was taken aback to discern that the girl was quite naked beneath the see-thru garment. The Iron Lady seemed not to take any notice, either of the erotic nature of Gabrielle’s costume, nor of Barbara’s gaze as Gabrielle’s shapely backside exited the room. 

The Iron Lady spoke as she poured tea for the two of them. “Before we proceed, it must be understood that normally an operator goes through a quite extensive period of training, in three phases, the longest of which is eight weeks. Given the current situation, and the fact that you’re involved in the conduct of an ongoing operation, we’ve narrowed down your training regimen to the absolute basics required to ensure your survivability in an operational environment.”  

“Yes, ma’am,” Barbara replied, taking her cue from Ludlow’s etiquette. 

“It will be almost impossible to impart upon you the kind of discipline that an agent normally develops over years of preparation and training. You shall have to rely upon a deep sense of self-discipline, which we have detected in our investigations into your school performance, both academically and in sport. Hopefully your stay here over the next two weeks may heighten this trait, for it is absolutely necessary for survival in our line of work. 

“Having said this, it is absolutely imperative that from this moment onward, for the duration of the next two weeks, you obey any and all commands and directions given to you, immediately and without question. Are you willing to do this?”

Barbara hesitated for the slightest moment, then nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I noticed that you did not give your assent right away,” said the Bitch. “This is good – we do not want automatons here, we want agents capable of free will, able to think on their feet and to make difficult decisions under the most trying of circumstances. We have already determined you to possess this personal trait, part of the reason why we are willing to bring you onboard at such short notice. However, I will say it again; because of the extremely abbreviated time to which circumstances limit us, during the course of your training here you must be willing to obey any and all directions that you receive. Immediately, without hesitation. Is this completely understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Barbara said, with the slightest hint of resignation.      

“Very well then,” the Bitch proceeded. “Subjects covered will include simple tradecraft, clandestine communications, an introduction to explosives and pistol marksmanship to name a few. Are you quite comfortable with this?” She held her cup up by the saucer and sipped her tea as she imparted this, as if she were discussing something as mundane as The Royal Horticultural Society’s annual Rose Exhibition. 

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied. Ludlow had briefed her on some of what she was to expect, although he had not gone into great detail. 

“You’re an open-minded and intelligent young lady, otherwise you wouldn’t be here with us.” The Iron Lady replaced her teacup and saucer to the table and faced Barbara, her gloved hands folded primly in her lap. Barbara nodded politely, holding her saucer in one hand and holding her teacup daintily in the fingers of the other. “Now then, I’m sure that you have a healthy and enthusiastic interest in shagging, don’t you my dear?” She said this last with special emphasis on the earthy term.

Barbara nearly lost the tea she was sipping; it was her first introduction to the Lady’s habitual use of crude language quite out of context with her surroundings, her refined poise. “Well, uh, yes, I suppose I do. Yes, ma’am.” Barbara was apprehensive, but not anxious. Jonathon had asked her to have faith in him; that no matter how bizarre or outlandish the course of events that followed may seem, everything that was to occur served a legitimate reason and that although she may not realize it at the time, given time the point of it all would come to her.   

“Of course you do. It seems that we humans are the only members of the animal kingdom that engage in sport-fucking.” The Iron Lady said this, looking at Barbara quite straightforwardly over the top of her teacup. “You’re young, free-thinking; a modern woman. Why should you deny yourself exquisite joy and pleasure when such is so readily available, quite literally at an arm’s length if necessary?” 

“Uh, yes, ma’am, quite,” Barbara replied, a bit nervously. She was not sure where the Lady was going with all this. The entire discourse was beginning to remind her of certain uncomfortable conversations she’d had as a young girl with her mother, who would have positively died if she’d known of her sixteen-year-old daughter’s nightly digital adventures.

“A woman’s sexuality is, after all, her greatest weapon, don’t you agree?” 

“Uh, yes, quite,” Barbara replied.

“History is replete with examples of remarkable women who have made full use of their natural, uh, assets in order to achieve certain objectives,” when the Iron Lady said this Barbara imagined she detected a slight emphasis on the first syllable of the word ‘assets’. “The femme fatales of this world are quite legendary – Mata Hari, Cleopatra, Helen of Troy; why the list goes right on back to the Old Testament. One thinks of Delilah, or even Eve, for that matter.

“My point is that no matter how strong the man, how invincible the warrior, they all have the same vulnerability. Some may be more immune to temptation than others, and that’s where, shall we say, certain ‘advanced’ sexual techniques come into play. 

Barbara was beginning to feel a bit warm in the bright, sunlit room, and wondered if she could open a window, when the Iron Lady said quite abruptly, “Well then, are you quite ready to begin?”

“Uh, now?”  Barbara had anticipated a good nights rest, a chance to acquaint herself with her new surroundings, perhaps getting off to a good start in the morning.

“There is no time to lose, my dear. Please be aware that Jonathon is, at this very time, critically involved in a very important and very real-world operation.” The Iron Lady regarded Barbara with a look over her spectacles that left no question to the seriousness of the entire enterprise, “an operation that you are already involved in, regardless of your wishes or desires.

“I’m ready,” Barbara said in a quiet voice, wondering not for the first time exactly what she was getting herself into.    

“Good girl. Now go stand over there in front of the mantelpiece and take off your clothes.” The Bitch said it simply, as if she were asking Barbara to pass the sugar, yet Barbara sensed a dead earnestness in her voice. Her heartbeat increased noticeably as she stood up, walked stiffly to the fireplace and turned to face the Bitch. 

Her fingers seemed to fumble as she undid the long row of buttons down the front of her dress. The buttons came undone ever so slowly, one by one, until at last she reached the bottommost one. She looked up, took a breath, and shrugged the garment to the floor. The Bitch merely looked on expectantly, a look of studied boredom on her face. Barbara unzipped the side fastening to her leather miniskirt; that, too, fell to the floor and she stepped out of it, careful not to catch her heels as she did so. 

The long tails of Jonathon’s white shirt still covered her, but not for long. Barbara’s pulse raced in her ears; she felt a heat flushing her face. She was embarrassed! To please Jonathon she had lately taken to not wearing panties beneath her skirts; she found this excited him. Now her secret was about to be revealed! Still, she had just agreed to obey any and all directions she received here immediately, so to hesitate was out of the question. Fumbling with the knot she undid the necktie, then somehow managed to unbutton the front of her shirt. She opened it slowly, her fingers gradually pulling it back to her shoulders, to let it fall to the floor. 

Now she stood clad in only the thigh-high, lace top stockings that she wore just for the occasion today and the white lace-trimmed, scalloped demi-bra that displayed the rounded tops her breasts to their best advantage. Other than these delicate underthings she was quite literally bare-ass naked. Her high-heeled shoes, with their little straps that buckled about her ankles, only served to enhance her loveliness, to present her natural beauty in a truly erotic manner. She went to unfasten the plastic hook that held her bra together in the front when the Bitch spoke. “You can stop right there, young lady. That’s fine for now.”

As Barbara stood before the Bitch she felt cool air about her naked ass. Her freshly shaven pussy was for all practical purposes fully on display; her slit quite visible beneath her tiny triangle of neatly trimmed blonde stubble. She felt more than a little ridiculous with her schoolgirl’s braids hanging down her shoulders, and wondered what was the purpose of this exercise, where this was all going, when the Bitch reached over to a side table to lift a little bell and gave it a ring. To Barbara’s utter discomfiture, the French maid appeared bearing a tray. 

Upon the tray were a number of strange devices, two of which Barbara recognised as vibrators; they looked rather like plastic flashlights but they each tapered to a cone-like head, such as a man’s penis only smoother, more conical. One of the vibrators was smaller than the other; it was not as quite as thick around as a standard flashlight; indeed, it was rather slim. The other was of a more standard length and width; indeed, it looked larger than Jonathon’s cock, even when he was fully rigid. Barbara did not recognize the other three objects. They were identical, but in three different sizes; each one was slightly larger than the one next to it. Black in colour, they were made of a smooth, shiny material; perhaps finely polished ebony, or some semi-precious stone. Rather cylindrical in shape but slightly curved with a rounded head on one end, widening out come to an abrupt flat end on the other. She was curious as to what the strange items were. Little was she aware that she would very soon be quite intimate with their use and purpose.

“Thank you, Gabrielle,” the Bitch said, as she got up and ran her fingers over the items on the tray. She passed over the vibrators and selected one of the other strange devices, not the biggest one nor the smallest but the middle-sized one. “This will do nicely,” she said, holding it up with both hands. “Bend over, Missy.”

“Ma’am?”

“Bend over and grasp your ankles. Do it!”

Mortified, Barbara did as instructed, placing her feet about a meter apart in order to be able to grasp her ankles. As she placed her head down between her ankles her blonde braids fell forward about her face. How utterly humiliated she felt, bent over with her ass in the air; spread wide open with the most intimate part of her body quite on display for the Bitch and that strange foreign girl in the bizarre maid’s outfit!

The Bitch placed her hand on Barbara’s ass, caressed it, ran her fingers in between Barbara’s asscheeks. Barbara was dismayed to detect the Bitch gently stroking her asshole! Thankfully, Barbara thought, Jonathon had been quite efficient in cleaning her ass that morning in the shower! Then she felt something round and blunt pushing against her asshole; she suddenly grasped the purpose of the strange items that lay on Gabrielle’s tray. The Bitch had her hands on either side of Barbara’s ass and with both thumbs was pushing the thing into her asshole! It was some kind of buttplug! When her little asshole tightened up instinctively against the intruding device, the Bitch spoke up, “you might as well relax, darling. This thing is going in, so the best way to take it is to just breathe out and relax.”

Barbara realized the validity of this advice. She let out a breath and tried to relax her anal sphincter as much as possible. She detected a wetness; the Bitch had applied some kind of lotion to her asshole as a lubricant. There was a slight pressure and suddenly the buttplug was inside of her. The rounded head hurt a little going in, but not much; her asshole seemed to easily adapt to the foreign item jammed into it. The Bitch ran her fingers lower, trailed them across Barbara’s pussylips before she said, “That’s good enough for now, young lady. You may stand up now.”             

Barbara stood up, brought her legs together. The horrible buttplug remained wedged firmly in her asshole, a humiliating reminder of the entire embarrassing ordeal. She wondered what the possible purpose the offending episode might serve, and was beginning to suspect that possibly the Bitch was simply kinky when her musings were answered.

“Most women fail miserably to fully employ that which God and Nature have provided us. A woman’s body has three orifices that men seek to enter; most women fail to properly make use of even the first to deliver pleasure to a man. In recent years there has been growing acceptance, indeed an active interest, for using the second orifice to provide men pleasure, although the history of fellatio dates back at least to ancient Babylon. The third method available also dates back to ancient times. The ancient Greeks come to mind. Despite their culture of physical purity they did not limit themselves when it came to seeking physical pleasure; indeed, it is suggested that they preferred a certain, uh, ‘backdoor’ approach to things.”

Barbara shuddered when she realized the ultimate objective of the afternoon’s humiliating training session. She was relieved somewhat when the Iron Lady continued, “it is not our intention to have you pleasure a man in such a way, at least not here and now. For one thing, your anus will need stretching, loosening; hence the purpose of the buttplug, and this will take some time.” 

Barbara wiggled her asscheeks a bit, flexed her buttock muscles and attempted to squirm about the object which so rudely penetrated her asshole. As she patiently stood in her bra and nylons she found she was growing a bit cold in the room, which not so long ago seemed quite stuffy and warm. Her nipples stood out, poking through the flimsy, sheer material of her brassiere. It was not at all unpleasant when the Bitch pinched her nipples through her bra, one at a time. They tightened into hard, little cones; an electricity coursed through Barbara’s entire being. Gabrielle the French maid stood to the side, her hands in front of her, with a look of studied disinterest on her face.




The Hottest Fire Ch. 10



“Today, rather, you will learn to fully appreciate the ability of your own body to give and receive pleasure, so that in future you may be able to more fully deliver pleasure to others, be they a man or a woman, or both, or for that matter several persons simultaneously, should the occasion present itself. Come with me.” The Bitch turned to lead her out of the room. Barbara noticed Gabrielle following them as the Bitch led her down the hallway and up a flight of stairs.

The stairs themselves presented an interesting challenge to Barbara. She clenched the muscles of her asshole tight out of fear that the offending buttplug might come out as she climbed the stairs. As she dealt with this possibility she was painfully aware of the French maid’s presence behind her and the view her naked ass undoubtedly offered.  

They arrived upstairs in what was obviously a bedchamber. Like the sitting room downstairs, this room’s décor was distinguished by its barren starkness. The drapery consisted of simple, white sheer curtains that filtered in solid yellow shafts of afternoon sunlight. Aside from some mirrors on the wall and a small settee off to one side, the only furniture in the room was an enormous four-poster bed. It was a bedroom, but sleeping was obviously not the primary activity intended to occur here. 

The Bitch turned her back to Barbara, indicated the top of the zipper fastening at the back of her dress. “Undo me?” she said casually.   

Barbara was a little astonished; she hesitated slightly, reaching up as the Bitch looked over her shoulder at her with a slightly raised eyebrow. No words were exchanged; Barbara undid the fastening at the top of the Bitch’s dress, slowly pulled the zipper down to where the small of her back curved outward to the beginning of her ass. “Thank you, my dear,” the Bitch said with a surprising tone of sweetness as she peeled off her dress, stepping out of it and handing it over to Gabrielle to put away.

Now the Bitch stood her before, very close, wearing only her underwear; a black lace bra and panties, stockings and heels. Her elegant coiffure and the pearls about her neck added a classic touch of grace and style that Barbara found quite alluring. Indeed, she was quite amazed at the older woman’s incredible beauty. She obviously practiced some kind of punishing physical routine; it seemed quite impossible to ascertain her age. Barbara was embarrassed to detect a warmth stirring within her pussy; she found that in her current state of undress it excited her to stand so close to such a beautiful creature! She blushed deeply when the Bitch place a hand on her breast; she felt her pussy moistening. She was getting turned on; worse, she couldn’t control it.

“Your files indicate a limited experimentation with Lesbianism,” the Bitch said quietly. “Have you found making love with another woman pleasant, agreeable?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, ma’am,” Barbara replied.

“Not sure?” the Bitch raised an eyebrow.

“I, uh,” Barbara stuttered, not knowing exactly how to properly express herself on this difficult subject. “my girlfriend and I, we only just, well, we didn’t really go all the way.” Then Barbara flushed a deep red, knowing that what she wished to say was that yes, she had kissed a woman before, had been naked in bed with another woman. That is to say, she and her girlfriend had done some mutual exploring of each other’s body’s. She had felt her girlfriend’s hands on her naked body, had achieved orgasm at her girlfriend’s hand; but she did not know how to say that she had never received oral sex from a woman, nor had she herself ever gone down on another woman, had not gone so far as to actually lick another woman’s pussy.    

“I hope this afternoon’s session leaves you more fully experienced, more skilled and knowledgeable in the ways that women may, shall we say, ‘appreciate’ each other,” the Bitch said quietly as she put a hand behind Barbara’s head, drew her to her and kissed her fully on the lips.

The kiss was like no other Barbara had ever experienced; so soft, so natural. The Bitch’s hands went to her hips, cupped her bare ass and pulled her close. Barbara found the sensation of another woman’s body pressing against her quite thrilling; breasts to breasts, belly to belly, the other woman’s thighs rubbing against hers. The slight roughness of the Bitch’s Mon du Venus encased in lacy silk felt positively arousing against Barbara’s neatly trimmed and shaven mound. It did not seem at all unnatural when she detected the Bitch’s tongue gently probing her lips; Barbara parted her lips and found herself willingly sucking on the Bitch’s tongue as she would a man’s.

The Bitch broke the kiss, gently pushed Barbara back a short distance to sit on the bed. Barbara’s eyes were level to the Bitch’s full cleavage. The Bitch trailed her fingers about Barbara’s neck and shoulders, pushed Barbara’s plaited braids behind her shoulders, then reached behind her own back and unfastened her bra. Barbara marvelled at the Bitch’s breasts; a fine pair, full and round with barely a hint of sag. The Bitch ran her hands up her sides, pursed her lips as she cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples in a gesture of pure lust. 

Barbara ran the palms of her hands up the Bitch’s thighs, across her hips, her waist, to cup and feel the other woman’s full breasts. She closed her eyes, parted her lips; it was the most natural thing in the world for her to place her mouth upon first one nipple, then the other. She found it enjoyable to kiss and suck. She pinched the Bitch’s nipples with her fingers as she nibbled and licked, bringing them to hardness. The Bitch’s hands rested gently about Barbara’s neck and shoulders. She tossed her head back and gently sighed; a signal to Barbara that so far she was doing well in her training to deliver pleasure.

The Bitch’s nipples were now hard and pointy in Barbara’s mouth. As she sucked upon them it occurred to Barbara that it was like sucking on little penises, and then the random thought crossed her mind that just that very morning her mouth had been full of cock, that she had swallowed mouthfuls of Jonathon’s milky white sperm. This memory pleased her. With eyes closed Barbara sucked harder, squeezed the Bitch’s tits tighter as she went back and forth and tried to fill her mouth with the other woman’s nipples.

Barbara became aware of a presence on the bed behind her; Gabrielle had moved onto the mattress, placing herself to sit behind Barbara with her legs wide open, her thighs on either side of Barbara’s ass. Gabrielle pressed her body against Barbara’s from behind; Barbara could detect that Gabrielle had removed her frilly white apron, was now wearing just the fishnet body stocking material and nothing else. Barbara enjoyed the feel of Gabrielle’s body behind her, enjoyed it as Gabrielle’s hands moved up her front to cup and feel her tits, to pinch her nipples through the flimsy, sheer material of her brassiere. 

Despite the proximity of two nearly naked women, Barbara felt somewhat exposed when Gabrielle’s delicate fingers unfastened the front of her brassiere and pulled the cups apart, exposing her breasts to the cool air of the room. Any feelings of self-consciousness were temporary, however, as Barbara thrilled to Gabrielle stroking her full, round tits, teasing her nipples to a delicious hardness as she licked and kissed her neck and shoulders from behind. She detected the young woman’s hand moving southward, down her side, across her hips and around to her ass. She gently lifted herself to allow Gabrielle to reach beneath her; Barbara experienced an incredible feeling of relief as Gabrielle removed the buttplug from her asshole and placed the offensive object aside. 

Now Gabrielle was gently tugging at her, the Bitch was gently pushed her back; both women indicating for Barbara to lie back on the bed. Down to only her thigh-high stockings and still wearing her high-heels with the little ankle straps, Barbara kept her legs together as she reclined on the pillows, feeling almost as if her body was on display. Both women joined her, Gabrielle in her fishnet catsuit to her left, the Bitch in her panties and hose to her right. 

Barbara closed her eyes as the two women’s hands wandered at will over her naked body. Her tits were stroked, her nipples pulled at and pinched, a hand softly petted the trimmed-tight blonde stubble of her neatly coiffeur’d pussy . Barbara parted her legs to allow herself to be stroked between the legs. The feeling was absolutely delightful! She threw her head to the right, felt a woman’s lips press to hers. It was the Bitch; she parted her lips to accept the Bitch’s tongue in her mouth. As they kissed Barbara detected Gabrielle’s fingertips dancing over her bald pussy, gently teasing, coaxing her slit. At the same time Gabrielle’s lips traced a trail of kisses that started at Barbara’s neck and shoulders, down to her breasts, across her nipples where the young woman’s lips, teeth and tongue nibbled, sucked, and licked. Her lips were so soft, so much softer than those of a man. 

Barbara sighed as Gabrielle continued southward to tantalize, tickle and tease; her tongue momentarily delved into Barbara’s bellybutton. Barbara felt the Bitch’s hands on her breasts, holding and squeezing them. The Bitch broke their kiss, moved down to nibble and suck at her nipples. Barbara sighed, finding the sensation of two women feasting upon her body quite lovely and agreeable. They were so soft!     Barbara now dwelled in a state of sheer ecstasy. Her pussy was hot, almost smouldering beneath Gabrielle’s dancing fingers; she was very wet. Gabrielle’s fingers gently described little circles about her clitoris. Barbara opened her eyes and strained to look down; she wished to behold these two beautiful women as they made love to her body. 

“MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!” A moan involuntarily escaped Barbara’s lips as she watched the younger woman’s lips travelled across her mound and move ever southward, arriving at last to kiss and suck her budding, wet clit. “Oh yes! Yes! YESSSSSSSSS!” she hissed as she experienced for the first time a woman’s soft lips on her pussy, a woman’s smooth face against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.  

The Bitch now moved downward to join Gabrielle at the juncture of Barbara’s thighs. Barbara spread her legs wide, drawing her feet up and reaching down to grasp her ankles, ensuring that her high heels would not catch upon the bedclothes as she thoroughly enjoyed the two women’s tongues dancing in tandem across her pussylips, her clitoris. 

Lying on her back in a state of absolute bliss, it pleased Barbara to watch as another woman kissed and licked her hot, wet pussy; she idly wondered what the pleasures the next phase of the operation would entail. Then Gabrielle sat up and began fumbling about the little nightstand to her side of the bed. A metallic click and a fairly loud buzzing noise informed Barbara that one of the vibrators, previously located on the French maid’s tray, was now being introduced into the equation. 

Kneeling to one side, the fishnet-clad Gabrielle held the larger of the two vibrators. In her sheer, body-hugging catsuit she looked positively wanton; the plastic phallus she brandished looked enormous in her little hands. The Bitch moved aside to allow Gabrielle to apply the pulsating dildo to Barbara’s pussy.

“OOOHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!” Barbara moaned as Gabrielle introduced the throbbing head of the vibrator to her sensitive, swollen clitoris. The heat in her pussy intensified; she felt the muscles in her pussy twitching involuntarily as she wished for Gabrielle to fuck her with the thing. But the young girl did not; she preferred to tease and torment Barbara instead, buzzing the thing mercilessly against her clit and rubbing it’s length against Barbara’s wet slit. 

Barbara wanted to be fucked, needed to be fucked; but it seemed to be the intent of the two women to deny her, to intensify Barbara’s pleasure by delaying her sexual satisfaction indefinitely. Now the Bitch was pushing her side, telling her, “roll over, darling, there’s a dear.” Then, reverting to a plainer manner of expression, she added, “get on your knees and put your ass in the air.”

Barbara did as ordered, turned over to lay face down on the pillows. She drew her knees up and once more reached down to grasp her high heels, leaving her bare ass up in the air. For the second time that day she had her asscheeks apart and was fully exposed. But now Barbara was in a highly sexual state; far from feeling humiliated, she willingly spread herself wide-open, seeking gratification.

She was not long in waiting. The first thing she felt was Gabrielle’s soft face pressing against her crotch from behind. The young woman’s lips found her pussy; her tongue delved deep within Barbara’s wet folds. The feeling was heavenly as Gabrielle’s velvety tongue penetrated almost as deep as a penis would. Barbara sighed as Gabrielle skilfully used her tongue to fuck her pussy; in and out, in and out. Then the younger woman withdrew her tongue and replaced it with the vibrator. The device’s incessant buzz muffled to a drone as it was buried deep into Barbara’s wet pussy. Barbara had never experienced such intense sensations as were now being delivered straight into the depths of her lovebox. 

“Yes! Yes! YESSS!!!” she cried, gripping the pillows tight against her breasts. “Fuck me! FUCK ME!” she whimpered as the thing relentlessly plunged into her from behind. 

Next Barbara felt another hand move up the back of her thighs to replace Gabrielle’s on the vibrator. It was the Bitch taking over the pulsating dildo. While the Bitch gently thrust the plastic penis in and out of Barbara’s sopping wet pussy, Barbara detected Gabrielle kissing the wet flesh around her pussy, the back of her ass. Despite the intensity of joy that her pussy was enduring, Barbara could unmistakably perceive Gabrielle’s hands on either side of her ass, Gabrielle’s tongue working it’s way further back until she felt the young woman’s face on her asscheeks, her tongue delving into her backdoor. There was no mistaking it! Gabrielle was delivering little butterfly licks to her asshole! Barbara found that she liked it. For the second time that day, Barbara was grateful that Jonathon had paid extra attention to cleaning her ass completely in their morning shower together.  

Barbara’s head was down into the pillow, her eyes closed, a feline smile wide upon her lips while behind her the two women worked upon her pussy and her derriere. Then Barbara sensed Gabrielle pull away, and she could not help but become aware of something cold, hard and round replacing the young woman’s hot, wet, velvety tongue around her anal sphincter. Barbara was surprised that she noticed only a minor discomfort as the cylindrical thing was inserted.  There was a metallic click and the thing began buzzing incessantly; any discomfort Barbara had experienced was immediately overcome by the fantastic sensation of being penetrated in both holes at the same time by two vibrating dildos.

It was the ultimate fuck. Barbara felt she was full of cock; she felt like a wine bottle, tightly stoppered. She was riding a long, smooth banister down an endless winding staircase, every inch of it infinite pleasure sliding between her legs. Every pleasure node in her being was abuzz; the feelings were quite overwhelming. She felt for sure that her head would explode. 

The muscles of her pussy were twitching about the vibrator, gripping and releasing it in a series of spasms. Separated by only the thinnest wall of tissue from her pussy, the incessant buzzing of the smaller vibrator up her asshole complimented and magnified her pleasure. Barbara held her asscheeks in both hands and lunged into the pillows as if in response to a man thrusting into her from behind. She reverted to a primal state of being; nothing existed save the two buzzing phalluses embedded in her pussy and her ass, and the absolute pleasure they delivered to her brain. She lived only for cock, for cock, and to be fucked long and hard.

Barbara lost track of how many overwhelming orgasms swept over her. Finally she could take no more. “Please,” she whimpered, “enough! Enough! I’m satisfied!” In a moment of panic the fleeting thought that they would not remove the relentlessly buzzing devices crossed her mind, but then she felt Gabrielle’s little hands fluttering about the backs of her thighs as the maid reached up to remove the vibrators and click them off. Gabrielle first removed the one in her asshole; it came out with a slight pop not like a cork from a bottle of wine, then she relieved Barbara of the larger dildo buried in her pussy. 

Barbara collapsed onto the mattress, her body a quivering wreck. “Oh! Oh!” she said in a quiet voice, her eyes closed, her face pressed against her tear-stained pillow. She could sense more than feel Gabrielle and the Bitch stroking her, their hands soft caresses like the lightest flutter of a bird’s wings upon her tender ass.

“That was your welcome to the world of ‘D-P’,” the Bitch said at last.

“D-P?” Barbara asked?

“Dual penetration,” the Bitch explained. 

“Thank you . . .  thank you . . . ” she sighed. It was all she could manage to say. Everything felt all so beautiful. Her pussy and ass seemed to buzz and hum for quite a long time afterward. 

*  *  *

Ludlow’s work continued in Barbara’s absence. He went about his duties, attended classes, maintaining the pretence of a diligent graduate student. His collection activities also continued, of course. An emerging picture of the terrorist support group that was active at University College began to take form. With support from The Organization, Ludlow was able to positively identify at least fifteen suspected operatives. On the surface they seemed harmless enough; simply a group of overseas exchange students that participated in the usual politically-oriented demonstrations that are common on university campuses worldwide. They distributed leaflets and plastered politically-oriented posters on available wall space about campus. 

There were political meetings where they publicized their cause, playing upon the sympathies of their target audience. Those Western students naïve enough to take the bait were befriended, taken aside, and exposed to more radical propaganda and indoctrination; the usual tripe about Western imperialism oppressing the Third World, and evil capitalist multi-national corporations exploiting the downtrodden, etcetera, etcetera. This was their recruiting effort, as significant to their sick cause as any single act of terrorist violence. Such campus recruitment by the communists during the thirties had successfully placed ‘moles’ deep within the infrastructure of the British secret services. These moles had eventually borne fruit for the Soviets, as verified by the spy scandals of the fifties, sixties and seventies. 

There were also more insidious activities; the distribution of funds, false passports and other documentation to active terrorists, also providing safe-houses, transportation, and medical aid in direct support of terror operations, the traditional duties and responsibilities of an underground support network. And in Ludlow’s personality files the same name kept cropping up, associated with it all: Layla. 

All of Ludlow’s suspected operatives eventually had some connection with the Lebanese Lesbian. Layla attended their meetings, was seen on the periphery of their staged demonstrations. While she didn’t seem to play an active role in their recruitment efforts, through her position on the University faculty Layla was instrumental in helping the suspected operatives maintain their status as legitimate exchange students. 




The Hottest Fire Ch. 10



Ludlow made it his business to cultivate his rapport with Layla. He found reason to be within the vicinity of her office several times a week for the most seemingly innocuous of reasons. Indeed, as Ludlow developed this laissez-faire relationship with Layla, going in and out of her office he found himself brushing elbows with some of the very people he maintained files on. Ludlow never let on that he understood a word of Arabic as the dark, young men of obvious Middle-Eastern extraction carried on extended conversations with Layla, all the while deliberately ignoring in his presence with typical arrogance. 

For her part, Layla was quite keen and eager for an opportunity to meet the lovely young thing, Barbara, again. And while she never suspected Ludlow was anything more than he appeared to be on the surface, Layla found herself curiously pre-occupied with the peculiar Canadian graduate student. There was something about the man, an unusual charisma that somehow distracted her, even after he had left for the day. She found herself intrigued with his persona. How was it that this simple, non-assuming middle-aged ‘Ludlow’, who wore tweeds and wire-framed glasses, was able to squire such a fabulous bird as Barbara? Her curiosity soon developed into a fascination. She had to admit, there seemed to be something about the man, although she could never quite put her finger upon it. 

It soon became quite apparent to Layla that she was not going to get any closer to Barbara until she developed some kind of liaison with Ludlow. She found it easy to become friends with him.

The event was a simple affair; one of the early evening wine and cheese events the faculty sponsored on a semi-regular basis.  “Oh, Jonathon! There you are!” Layla waved at him from across the room. Ludlow looked up at the sound of his name, nodded and smiled. Layla was surrounded by a group of male admirers. In fact, she seemed to be drowning in the attention of a mob. When she waved a second time, Ludlow took it as his cue to ride to the rescue of the damsel in distress.

“Hello, Layla,” he said simply.

“Hello, Jonathon. Bon soir!”

“Bon soir, madamoiselle.”

“Jonathon, so good to see you! Ca va?” This accompanied by a flurried Gallic exchange of cheek kissing.

“Ca va.” Ludlow thought she seemed to be overdoing it a bit, to the discomfort of the colleagues that surrounded her. Layla held his arms, pressed her remarkable breasts flat against his chest. This drew stares from her male audience. Ludlow enjoyed every second of it. What the hell, he thought, so what if I piss off every Englishman in the world? 

One of the fellows, an anaemic academic with bad teeth, tried to make a bit of polite conversation. “I say, you’re the Canadian grad student, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered, using formal tones to put the guy off balance.

“Oh, I’m Arthur,” Bad Teeth said, extending his hand. “Professor; Oriental languages.”

“Ah, so. Konbanwa, sensei. Genki deska?” Ludlow replied, nodding his head in a slight Japanese bow. He had to slightly disentangle himself and reach over the top of Layla’s round tits to shake hands. The almond shaped mascara’ed eyes of Layla stared up at him as he did so. 

“Oh, yes!” Bad Teeth laughed, “I say. Hei! Konbanwa!” It occurred to Ludlow that this character was the epitome of the classic English fop.

Layla seemed to be frustrated that Ludlow was by himself. She even went so far as to inquire in an indirect manner as to Barbara’s whereabouts. “Oh, Barbara and I are hardly joined at the hip,” he replied. “At least, not twenty-four hours a day!” he added with a chuckle. The mental image this turn of phrase evoked only exasperated Layla all the more. It seemed obvious to her that the situation called for drastic measures.

Layla navigated Ludlow away from the group to a corner of the room to where she could engage him in a more discreet conversation. As they moved away arm-in-arm, Ludlow wasn’t quite sure if he imagined one of her erstwhile suitors muttering, “bloody Colonial!” 

“Thank goodness you are here, Jonathon! I don’t know if I could have taken the pressure another minute!” Layla was confident that through her incredible sexual allure she could somehow manipulate him, that some way to gain access to Barbara would present itself. 

“I’m sure you would discover a method, given time,” he answered drolly. 

“Oh, Jonathon, now I see how you catch such a young, lovely one!” she laughed. 

“Yes,” he replied, “perhaps we should get together and compare technique sometime.”

“Oh, Jonathon, you are a knave!” This last accompanied by a blush, which was hardly a part of the act. She placed a hand on his arm, took the opportunity to press her breasts against him once more. Ludlow found he was becoming quite stiff in the trousers.

Layla pretended to be fascinated with him, as if his comments were the most sublime ever uttered. Indeed, she was surprised to discover a certain uncanny attractiveness about the man. Despite herself, Layla found she was behaving quite coquettishly before him. As they conversed in French Layla spoke with a most exaggerated accent, drawing out her syllables in a study of zzz’s and breathy, voiced vowels. She fluttered her eyelids, played the rim of her wineglass upon her lower lip. She even tugged her silk scarf up and about her neck, allowing Ludlow an unobstructed view of the rounded tops of her breasts.

For his part Ludlow was enjoying her performance. Knowing the surest way to infuriate a woman was to rebuff her advances, Ludlow carefully played the clueless buffoon. His intent was to frustrate her just so far as to heighten desire, yet not to the point to where she might dismiss the entire issue with an agitated harrumph. When Layla began trailing her fingernails along the inside of his thigh, Ludlow found occasion to consult his watch. “Oh, drat!” he announced. “Look at the bloody time!”

“Comment l’heure?” she asked.

“Besoin a faire un rendezvous,” he answered, “avec elle.” I need to meet . . .  . . . with her. He quickly downed his glass of red wine. With a quick kiss to her cheek it was a confounded and very sexually frustrated Layla that Ludlow left in his wake as he exited the affair. 

Needless to say, that night Layla punished her pussy mercilessly with her love toy. Lying on her back with her legs spread wide, it was the first time Layla ever recalled the feeling that something was amiss as she made love to herself. Usually it was enough to take pleasure in the reflection of herself in the mirror that hung suspended over her bed, naked save, perhaps, for some delicate bit of lingerie and always, of course, her black patent leather high-heeled pumps. But not tonight, for some strange reason. 

Oddly enough, as she masturbated to the thought of Barbara’s naked body, the vision of a man’s erect penis kept entering her mind. 

Not just any penis. His penis. Jonathon’s penis. I want cock, she thought as she fucked herself. I love cock. I NEED cock! The fingers of one hand held her lips apart, the other hand gripped the plastic phallus and thrust it in and out of her wet hole. “I want your cock!” she moaned. “I WANT YOUR COCK!” Her eyes now squeezed shut, Layla thrashed back and forth on sweat-soaked sheets. Her wet pussy clenched the solid plastic pole that buzzed inside her incessantly. She put the middle finger of her free hand into her mouth, wet it, then returned her hand to her quim and began frantically diddling her clit. Finally a hot, overwhelming feeling of release flooded her body in waves; a small jet of liquid squirted out of her pussy as she brought herself to a spurting wet orgasm. She barely had the strength to click off the buzzing contraption before she passed into sweet blackness. 

Consciousness returned moments later. Layla contemplated the image that presented itself in the mirror above; naked save for the high heels she still wore, her knees were up and her legs spread wide, one hand cupping her pussy, the other flung out by her side. Her dark hair was spread about the pillows giving her the impression of a Medusa, with eyes wild like a woman possessed. By her side lay her trusty dildo, tirelessly awaiting future service. As she regarded herself in this savage, primal state a single thought preoccupied her mind: she must have him. No, she would have him. Oh yes, she would!



The Hottest Fire Ch. 11



Chapter 11. Homecoming

When Barbara’s two weeks with the Bitch had expired Ludlow drove down to London to pick her up. They kissed inside the car; just a brief meeting of lips, the slightest flick of tongues together, tip to tip. Not much was said during the drive back up to University, they just quietly held hands as Ludlow drove the powerful Jag. It was almost as if they were meeting again after a long absence of many, many years. In some ways the gulf of their separation was just as vast. 

For it was a more sophisticated and infinitely wiser Barbara who now sat next to Ludlow. She had received training in the use of weapons, clandestine communications, offensive driving; all the basic operational tactics, techniques and procedures of the secret agent, including, of course, advanced sexual techniques. She was still the same Barbara, still lithe and young, carefree and winsome in her mannerisms, but there was something in the way she now carried herself. A certain self-assuredness and confidence in her manner that bespoke volumes of a woman who truly knew herself, was comfortable with her body and with her sexuality. Although he had anticipated some slight adjustments in her character, Ludlow was fascinated with the subtle changes Barbara exhibited.

Once inside his apartment they kissed, longer this time, she holding his face in her hands as her tongue explored his mouth. His hands rested on her hips. Ludlow marvelled at how he had missed the tight curves of her body; her willing lips, her pillowy tits against his chest. He was already very stiff; as they kissed she ground her smouldering mound against his solid rod. Barbara’s hand travelled down to discover his cock at full length and hardening beneath her very fingertips. 

“God I missed you,” she breathed as she gently stroked his hardening length, gave it a playful pinch. Jonathon moaned his approval, sucking on her tongue. Then Barbara broke the kiss. Looking into his eyes and smiling, she said, “not right away, lovey. Could we have a bite to eat, perhaps? Maybe a bath, perhaps? That bitch drove me into the fuckin’ ground, even on the last day!”

Ludlow raised an eyebrow at Barbara’s uncharacteristic use of crude language. She was beginning to show the hallmarks of a hardened professional. “But of course, love. You go hop into the bath and relax, I’ll put something together in the kitchen.” To this Barbara closed her eyes and delivered a quick kiss to his lips, then turned to leave the room, giving his hand a little squeeze.

“Love you, darling.”

“You too, sexpot.” When he called her this she laughed.  

* * *

Barbara was already awakening into a very sexual creature when Ludlow first met her; she now revelled in her abandon. As he had originally introduced her to different and exciting aspects of sex, she now sought to pleasure him in ways unique and original. 

She intentionally left the door to the bathroom open so that he could observe her undressing, left the door to the shower stall ajar quite on purpose so that she could display her naked body. As Ludlow went about the place tidying up and preparing some refreshments he couldn’t help but notice Barbara leaning over, nude, in the shower. She was slowly rubbing a bar of soap up and down the crack of her ass. Quite aware he was watching, Barbara was afraid he’d put his neck out of joint. She turned to rinse her ass, then straightened up and cupped her tits, pinched her nipples beneath the jets of steamy water, pretending all the while to be quite unaware of his eyes upon her. 

Ludlow attempted to regain his composure as he went about what he had intended to do in the first place, which was to put on some light classical music while he prepared their supper. He owned a large component stereo system, an older Bang and Ullfson number that included a regular turntable, practically an antique. When CD’s had come around Ludlow felt he couldn’t face starting all over again compiling a collection, so he kept all his old LP’s. Besides, he maintained that better fidelity was delivered from an analogue groove in vinyl, as long as the needle was replaced regularly, than in a series of one’s and zeroes embedded in a plastic CD and mathematically converted into sound through an electronic process. Ludlow shared this belief with an elite group of music connoisseurs who were able to acquire and maintain their stereophonic systems via a loose association of second hand stores that dealt in the long-obsolete albums and playing systems of the by-gone era.  

By the time Barbara finished in the shower and was prowling around the flat clad in one of her customary skimpy white lace panty and bra combinations, Ludlow had finished in the kitchen and was placing dinner on the table. In anticipation of the evening’s activities he’d prepared a light repast; a goulash, some French bread and a bottle of wine. Just enough for refreshment, not enough to load them down with food. The buoyant strains of Beethoven on low volume filled the background, piping in from his concert-quality speaker arrangement.   

They ate quietly, simply taking pleasure in each other’s company after their two-week absence. Ludlow enjoyed the sight of Barbara sitting across the table in nothing but her underwear, the rounded tops of her breasts practically bursting out of the lace trimmed cups of her push-up bra. A black velvet ribbon tied about her neck as a choker seemed to give her body the appearance of being gift-wrapped. With her long hair tied up, the black velvet choker allowed Ludlow to more fully appreciate the beauty of her neck. As she looked at him over the blue-tinted lenses of her wire-framed granny glasses, a smile playing on her lips, it occurred to him that Barbara seemed to have achieved a sort of classic beauty that amplified her sexuality a thousand fold. Even the simple sight of her pursing her red lips to sip the Beaujolais from her glass seemed an erotically charged vision. 

Suddenly, a stream of images floated across Ludlow’s consciousness. He could not help but have fleeting thoughts of past relationships, the bedroom antics of other women he had loved; thinking of them he marvelled at how Barbara seemed to surpass each and every one of them in so many ways. 

There was Theresa, the Spanish flamenco dancer he’d carried on with a few years ago in Barcelona. A long, slim Latin beauty with a head full of raven-coloured hair that fell down about her shoulders, olive-hued skin, a narrow strip of jet-black fur over her pussy, wide hips just made for fucking and a set of legs that seemed to automatically wrap around his midsection at the earliest possible opportunity. The woman was remarkable; she loved to fuck in every way imaginable, every position that Ludlow knew of and even a few he had never thought possible. They even did it upside down in the shower. The trouble with Theresa was that not only did she love to fuck; she loved to fuck everyone. Ludlow was certainly open-minded enough to handle a certain degree of free love. He tolerated her affair with the bullfighter, he tolerated her fling with the group of rock musicians, and naturally he had no complaints when she shared her lesbian lovers with him. 

Theresa’s adventurous sexual appetite was not such a bad thing; she arranged for Ludlow to attend a group event with her entire dance troupe. As the only male in an otherwise all-lesbian orgy he had enjoyed the phenomenal pleasure of being present while fifteen women, in various stages of undress, engaged in every imaginable sexual variation that is possible between women. The spectacle of all those beautiful women’s breasts, all of their round hips, arms and legs intertwined, mouths on mouths, red lips on red lips, on nipples, women’s faces buried in other women’s pussies; all the while having his cock and balls attended to by the willing lips and tongues of two beautiful Spanish dancers, it was a truly extraordinary evening, to say the least. But Ludlow had to draw the line when Theresa insisted on carrying on with a known enemy operative, even after he informed her of the terrorist’s true identity. 

Then there was little Took, the Thai girl he met while on assignment in Hong Kong. A small girl, almost childlike, she must have been under five foot tall, yet with a woman’s body; a perfect little Oriental Barbie doll. A doll-like face, lovely almond shaped eyes, a pair of tits that were barely handfuls yet in proportion to her tiny body looked like 36 DD’s, with nipples Ludlow swore couldn’t have been a half inch in diameter. Her body was absolutely hairless from the neck down; what little hair Took had on her pussy she diligently plucked, sitting on a chair with one leg hiked up, a small mirror propped up before her crotch. 

Took did everything for him, worked about the house like a slave, loved him in every way, loved every inch of him like an emperor’s concubine. Took bathed him, squatting by the tub and scrubbing his body. She literally waited on him hand and foot. She would not even allow him to feed himself; insisted on holding his ricebowl and lifting titbits to his lips with her chopsticks. The trouble was that while Took loved him in every way she would not indulge that which is most pleasurable, most sought after, indeed the lovemaking technique that is nigh on expected by the Western man of his women; alas, Took adamantly refused to suck dick. In the end Ludlow sadly decided to seek a lover who would not hesitate to bestow upon him this exquisite form of pleasure. 

And of course he could never forget the American girl, Lisa. A strapping strawberry blonde with a penchant for giving blowjobs, Lisa loved to suck dick. Lisa was a highly paid international fashion model. She strutted the catwalks in New York and Paris wearing the most outrageous of costumes; quite brief, skimpy and revealing. Lisa didn’t see the purpose to wearing much more when not working. A inveterate nudist, her au naturel suntanning sessions on the roof of her lower Manhattan apartment were the continual cause of scandal and sensation, although even the jealous wives and grandmothers of the neighbourhood had to grudgingly admit that if one was going to practice public nudity then this living goddess was certainly equipped to do so. Lisa had long, shapely legs and a high, round ass. Better endowed in the chest department than one expects of a girl in the fashion industry, her large tits stuck straight out almost like a pair of torpedoes, beneath which her narrow waist and flat belly led the eye naturally to the tightly trimmed nest of golden curls on her mon du Venus. 

As well as being a confirmed nudist Lisa also was advocate to a peculiar belief; she swore by the youthful regenerative powers of sperm. She not only swallowed as much of the thick white stuff that she could suck out of him, she also liked to rub his semen on her face as a sort of skin therapy mask. The problem with Lisa was that she refused to love Ludlow in any way except by mouth. She literally preferred sucking to fucking; it might even be said that she lived to suck and swallow. 

As difficult as it was to do so Ludlow had to finally draw the line; being sucked off on a daily basis was all very well and fine but a man had to have pussy at least once in a while, otherwise what was the point to putting up with a woman in the first place? Still, it was with heavy heart that he bid this amazing fellatio artist goodbye. To this day he could visualize Lisa sitting up in bed, nude, yellow sunlight streaming through from the window behind her, her golden curly hair a glowing aura about her head and shoulders, puddles of his spunk on her chin, her cheek, dripping down onto her breasts; a wide, sheepish grin on her lovely face.   

None of them could compare, however, to the beautiful Barbara who sat across from him now; so fresh and young, so free of inhibition and hang-up, so willing to learn how to love him in any and every way imaginable. 

When dinner was finished Barbara said simply, “That was nice.” Then as she daubed her lips with her serviette she added, “you cooked, I’ll clean up.” It was this kind of simple, easygoing manner of hers that made it so easy for Ludlow to love the girl.   

Ludlow retired to the sofa while Barbara took care of the dishes; she refused to let him assist. While he waited she pleasantly surprised him by bringing him a Scotch. He thoroughly enjoyed being waited upon by the slim young thing, practically naked but for the briefest triangles of white silk. Though there wasn’t much to clean up Barbara seemed intent on making a show of it as she worked at the sink, bending forward to afford him the best possible view of her sweet round ass. The flimsy fabric of her panties left nothing to the imagination; the soft globes of her butt cheeks and the crack of her ass were plainly visible. Indeed, the simple scrap of lacy white silk that graced her hips seemed to emphasize the beauty of her figure; the muscles and lines of her back, the backs of her well-formed thighs. Sitting back and nursing his drink, Ludlow was able to fully appreciate the perfect scenery of Barbara’s derriere she worked at the sink. Her sweet ass! he thought. Her sweet ass! 

* * *

When she was finished in the kitchen Barbara joined him on the sofa, a drink of her own in hand. They clinked glasses, drank, then shared a kiss. Barbara had sucked an ice cube into her mouth from her drink without him noticing; now she pushed it into his mouth as they kissed. It caused her pillow-like lips to feel pleasantly cold; her soft, wet tongue hot as it probed his.

It was Barbara’s intent to stage a little reunion celebration for her lover. She enjoyed going through Ludlow‘s collection of vinyl LP’s; the great albums put out by the super bands of the late sixties and early seventies. The Allan Parsons Project. Black Sabbath. Blue Oyster Cult. The Beatles. The Rolling Stones. Credence Clearwater Revival. Cream. David Bowie. Deep Purple. The Doors. Emerson, Lake and Palmer. Jethro Tull. Jimi Hendrix. Kansas. Nazareth. Uriah Heep. Pink Floyd. Rush. Santana. Steppenwolf. Styx. Ten Years After. The Velvet Underground. The Who. Yes. And of course, the mighty Led Zeppelin.

For tonight’s entertainment Barbara had acquired a blacklight from one of the little shops downtown that catered to the whims of the college crowd. She placed the blacklight in the living room, put a lava lamp on the mantelpiece and dropped the phonograph’s needle on to the quintessential sixties classic; Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit. Already practically naked, Barbara began to slowly dance a striptease before her lover. The purple light glancing off her curves cast interesting silhouettes as she writhed to the trance-inducing music. She unhooked her bra and shrugged it off, dancing before him now in only her white panties, a ridiculously minute sliver of white lace about her hips. Her blue tinted granny glasses and the black velvet choker about her neck had an even more erotic effect when she bared her supple young body like this.

Barbara stood before him with legs spread wide, holding her pert tits in her hands; two pillowy handfuls. She swayed her hips and rotated her silk-covered mound inches from his face in a classic stripper’s bump and grind. Barbara pinched her nipples to delightful hardness as she moved her hips side to side, her lips in a mock pout. Then she moved her hands up to hold her hair on top of her head, away from her neck.  

Barbara lifted one leg to rest her knee on the arm of the sofa and straddle Ludlow, lap dancing him, rubbing the silk that covered her hot pussy against the cloth tent where his hard cock poked up through his trousers. Their lips barely touched as she imparted the lightest of kisses upon him. His hands played upon her round breasts, cupped them, squeezed two soft handfuls, pinched stiffened nipples. She moved up, climbed the sofa to move her tits to the level of his mouth and revelled in the feeling as his lips kissed and sucked her nipples. 

The song finally came to an end. Barbara leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I’m ready to give you something very special, lover,” she said. Ludlow couldn’t doff his trousers fast enough; his dick was pointing straight up like in the air like a flagpole. 

Barbara trailed her fingers down the length of his body as she went to her knees before him. Her head went down. Forming an “o” with her red lips, she engulfed his cock entirely into her mouth then slowly released him, inch by inch. When finally her lips rested upon the very tip of his dick she began licking, flicking her tongue up and down his length, holding him up with one hand as she tickled his balls with the fingertips of her other hand. He was very hard. Stroking his length with one hand as she licked his balls and the base of his cock, she maintained eye contact all the while. She was giving him the eye-fuck, making him hard for what was to come next. She continued to look him in the eye as she rubbed his dick all over her face, then popped the head of it back into her mouth, sucked it and released it with an audible pop. With her lips she gave the head of his dick a playful nibble.

Barbara stood up, gave his cock a playful little tug. “Come on, lover,” she said. Ludlow stood up. Holding him by the cock, Barbara led him into the bedroom. She indicated for him to sit on the bed. Standing naked before him with her hands over her head, her body looked magnificent in the soft glow of light coming in the slightly ajar door. It seemed as if she were an exotic piece of tropical fruit, on display. Ludlow gently peeled her panties off her ass, let them fall to the floor. Holding on to her hips hands he began loving her tits, kissing them and sucking them so slowly, ever so slowly.

After enjoying his attentions for some time, Barbara placed the palms of her hands on his chest and looked him in the eye, her face adopting a stone serious look. “Tonight, lover,” she said simply and without the slightest shame, “I want you to fuck me in the ass.”  

Not another word was said, they now communicated via a strange silence. Her eyes locked on his, Barbara moved around to the other side of the bed and leaned forward, lay belly down on the sheets and spread her legs apart. Ludlow moved toward her, placed a hand on her ass. He detected a trembling, a slight quiver that briefly rippled through the supple muscles of her taut asscheeks. Barbara took a deep breath and relaxed as Ludlow’s fingers traced a line down the crack of her ass, down deeper to lightly stroke where her pussy lips were just barely accessible. She moved her thighs further apart so that he could stroke her there. He leaned over and softly kissed her ass cheeks.

Ludlow grabbed some pillows, indicated that she should lift herself, then placed the pillows beneath her. Relaxed now with her ass quite up in the air, Barbara’s asscheeks were two soft pillows for him to bury his face in. His fingers trailed across the backs of her thighs, her ass, her pussylips, tickling and teasing her, as his lips and tongue delved her crack. He moved his hand up, separated her ass cheeks and placed his mouth directly on her pussy. Barbara sighed, then moaned her approval as his tongue probed her wet pussy from behind.

She was very wet. Her eyes closed, she delighted as Ludlow’s mouth worked her from behind. His tongue delved into her wet depths, moved down to lick and suck her budding clitoris, a tight and erect button of flesh in his lips. “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” A sigh of approval involuntarily escaped Barbara’s lips from where her face was buried in the pillows. Ludlow’s hands were on her ass, his fingers deep in her crack, playing, stroking, probing her pussylips, her asshole. He licked two fingers wet, expertly separated her labia and gently inserted to fingerfuck her pussy as he continued to suck her clit. Barbara moaned her approval louder this time, “OOOHHH!” She arched her back, raising her ass to give him better access as he licked her and fucked her with his hand. 




The Hottest Fire Ch. 11



Her fluids seemed to almost pour forth, making his hand wet, his face wet, saturating the insides of her thighs as his fingers plunged in and out of her wet hole. His lips and tongue were merciless on her clit, sucking in her little love button and torturing it with tongue flicks and gentle nibbles. “OH! OH! OH!” she cried, clutching her pillow tight as she came on his face. Ludlow finally relented, releasing her clit from his lips, removing his fingers from her pussy, moved up to lick her love juices. He lapped at her hot, wet slit like a dog drinking water on a hot day. Then he moved up again, separating her buttcheeks as he traced a line the length of her wet slit to where her little pink asshole awaited, puckered and tight. 

He teased her with the very tip of his tongue, bestowed little butterfly licks upon her sphincter. Barbara sighed, relaxed, and the muscles of her anus seemed to loosen somewhat. Ludlow’s tongue went around her asshole. He wanted to make her very wet. “Here, love, use this,” she said. Fumbling in her bag on the little table next to the bed she produced a small bottle of lotion. Ludlow sat up, placed a knee over her leg to reach for the bottle. His hard, hot meat lay across the back of her thigh. He squeezed some of the cool, white liquid onto her hot ass, and with two fingers began to gently work the lubricant into her asshole. 

Barbara lay silent, eyes closed. Reaching back, she grasped her asscheeks with both hands and held them apart to provide Ludlow a perfect view of her ass. It was Barbara’s wish to give herself up like this, completely and utterly, the most absolute manner imaginable that she could bare herself before her lover. It pleased her to lay herself vulnerable before him like this, to break taboo, to pleasure him in this most forbidden way.

Ludlow stroked her asshole, managed to insert first one, then two fingers into Barbara’s ass. She was totally relaxed, totally receptive at being entered in the rear. “I’m ready, lover,” she said quietly, “Go ahead. Go ahead and fuck me. Fuck me in the ass.”

Ludlow lifted his leg to straddle the backs of her thighs, his erection lay thick and hard and meaty across her soft buttocks. He took his dick in hand, guided the blunt head of his cock to her asshole and gently thrust his hips forward. His cockhead slipped into her tight asshole quite easily; he got it in to the rim and paused. 

Barbara exhaled; his dick was not as uncomfortable as she had anticipated. “Easy, lover,” she whispered, “please be gentle. I’ve never taken it . . .  . . . I’ve never taken it . . .” . . . from a man, she wanted to say, “. . . this way, before.” 

The buttplug regimen that the Bitch had imposed upon her had obviously succeeded in loosening up the muscles of her asshole. Ludlow leaned forward, his thighs on the backs of hers, the length of his pole protruding into her ass. Ever so slowly he began to thrust deeper into her tight hole. He worked his cock in and out until he was fully inserted, his dick buried between her soft, round asscheeks. 

For Ludlow the feeling was nothing less than breathtaking, his hard cock totally encircled by a hot, tight ring of muscle. Not wishing to cause Barbara any pain or discomfort he began fucking her slowly at first. She seemed able to take it; her asshole loosened somewhat to accommodate his girth. 

Barbara liked the feeling: hard, hot meat going in and out her backdoor. Yet something was amiss; she now knew that she was missing the total experience. Again she reached over to fumble in her bag, this time producing a vibrator. Overwhelmed as she was by his thick length of meat buried up to the hilt in her ass, she reached down to rub the full-length cream-coloured plastic dildo to the lips of her pussy. The plastic phallus easily slipped into her wet slit. “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” she moaned as she began to fuck herself. The sensation of being double-fucked loosened herself further, allowing Ludlow to begin regular thrusts into her ass. Barbara flicked the switch on the base of the vibrator and a loud buzzing filled the air.

“Oooooooooo . . .   . . . oooooooooO!” she cooed as she thoroughly appreciated being fucked in both holes at once. She lifted her ass to meet his thrusts. “You’re fucking me in the ass! You’re fucking me in the ass!” she cried softly.

“Uuuhhhhhhhhh!” Ludlow moaned as the vibrations instantly coursed through the length of his dick. The lotion lubed her hole well, wet and slippery around his cock. He began humping her in earnest, his hips going SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! against the skin of Barbara’s sweat-coated ass, while Barbara did all she could to manipulate the plastic phallus in and out of her wet twat. 

“OH! OH! OH! OH! OH! OH!” she cried as she immediately going into the throes of an intense orgasm. Her hand plunged the vibrator in and out of her dripping wet pussy. Ludlow felt the muscles of her asshole tightening around his cock, gripping, convulsing, as he plunged in and out. He sank his fingers knuckle deep into the soft flesh of her ass. A feeling of pleasurable pressure built up in his balls, in the head of his dick. His hips became a pounding pile driver; driving his dick home into her ass until he could hold off no longer. Ludlow pulled out and jacked himself off to the sight of Barbara fucking herself with the dildo. Jets of white fluid spurted from his dick, painting her ass in come.

Hot, thick lines of cream draped over her quivering buttcheeks as he unloaded what must have been a gallon of spunk. Barbara lay slumped forward, sweat beaded up all over her slim back. After a fourth, then a fifth mighty spurt Ludlow released his cock and let it lay spent on the crack of Barbara’s ass, a hot sausage, his balls resting where her buttocks met the tops of her thighs. Barbara’s buttcheeks flexed; a final, tiny spurt of fluid shot out of the end of Ludlow’s cock. He remained slumped forward, sweat dripped from his brow to join the watery puddle that saturated her ass.

He finally collapsed lay by her side. Barbara still lay belly down on the pillows. They kissed. “I love your cock,” she said simply, quietly.

“My cock loves your pussy,” he replied.

“I think your cock loves my ass right now!” she said with a laugh. Ludlow could only laugh in reply. 

A short while later when she got up to make her run to the bathroom, Barbara paused by the full-length mirror on the closet door and leaned back over her shoulder to inspect her rear. “Ah, ha!” she laughed, looking at him and indicating her goo-covered ass. Ludlow smiled. The Bitch had trained Barbara well.      

 * * *

In his continual quest to confound and bamboozle Layla, Ludlow found reason to visit her offices in the Administration building late Monday afternoon. 

Today she wore a simple day dress of black calico featuring a row of little buttons up the front, the latest style. A thick gold coin suspended from a substantial gold chain around her neck drew Ludlow’s eyes to the valley formed between her breasts. Not detecting the usual glimpse of lace at her cleavage, Ludlow suspected she was bareback beneath the simple, body-hugging garment. Layla’s mascara’ed eyes regarded him carefully. “Bon jour, monsieur Jonathon.”

“Bon apres-midi, madamoiselle,” he replied.

He had never dropped by this late in the day. There was a strange quietness. The offices on this floor were usually quite busy, but now they seemed almost deserted. Like civil servants everywhere, the administrators and office staff bolted when the hands on the clock approached anything near five o’clock. 

They regarded one another across her desk. Direct eye contact, yet nothing was said; no light-hearted banter, no chit-chat. Golden beams of sunlight streamed through gaps between the slats of the Venetian blinds. Without a word Layla came around the desk and perched her derriere upon it. In the slit where the buttons struggled to hold her clothing in place Ludlow could quite easily observe her inner thighs. The lack of a visible panty line made him wonder if she were also pantyless this afternoon. 

The room suddenly seemed quite stuffy; he seemed overwhelmed by Layla’s musky aroma. She gently placed a hand on his cheek.

“It should be you and me, Jonathon.”

Ludlow sensed the time for flip comments had passed. “Perhaps it should have been, but it is not now, Layla,” he said quietly. Layla’s ample chest was at Ludlow’s eye level, her nipples poked quite visibly through the flimsy material; it seemed as if her were having a conversation with her tits.

“She is beautiful, but she is young.” Ludlow remained silent. He felt no compulsion to reply to a statement of the obvious. “So young. Too young!” Layla went on, “I could love you so much better!” Layla punctuated this last by running both hands through his hair, then clutching his face to her outthrust chest.

Ludlow’s mouth was dry, his pulse racing. He mumbled an incoherent reply from where his face nuzzled her bountiful breasts. Layla responded by jumping off her perch on the corner of the desk to straddle him in his chair. She rapidly unbuttoned the front of her dress, practically tearing it open to reveal herself to him. Ludlow was right; beneath her dress she was quite naked. She was completely nude save for the pair of heels she wore, black patent leather pumps. Ludlow could also see that her pussy was quite hairless, in the Arab style.

“You MUST love me!” she cried.

Layla thrust her tits into his face. In her zeal she tipped Ludlow back in his chair to where he was teetering dangerously off-balance. He gripped a corner of the desk at the last moment and voiced a quiet, “Help!”

At that very moment the President of the University’s Board of Regents walked in, the grey-haired Sir Henry; his face aghast. His wife was with him, Lady Abigail, a respectable matron. For a split second Layla simply stood there, mouth agape, holding her dress open and presenting her naked body for all the world to see. Then she quickly pulled her clothing about her, her hands clutching the material about her neck. It occurred to Ludlow that this was an opportune moment to release his grip on the corner of the desk and let his chair fall to the floor, crashing on his back.  

“He . . . . . . he . . .” she started to say. 

The outcome of the entire affair was the subject of an summary meeting of the senior administrators the very next day. Because of the peculiar geometry of the situation Sir Henry and his wife had witnessed, it was difficult to determine whether or not the act was the rape of a male student by a female member of the faculty staff. Whatever the elusive truth, it was generally agreed that the case of Miss Layla suggested a definite conflict of interest, and therefore constituted a litigation risk that the Board of Regents of the University was unwilling to accept. Miss Layla was given two weeks’ punitive leave without pay while the senior administrators would consider her fate.

Ludlow wasted no time in exploiting this turn of events. He contacted the Organization immediately. It was critical that they act to expose Layla’s entire network before they spooked and went to ground. A clandestine operation was quickly mounted; Layla was immediately apprehended and brought to the nearest safehouse for interrogation. Ludlow himself conducted this most delicate phase of the operation. 

The interrogation of Layla was a classic case of carrot-and-stick. She was stripped naked, naturally, then forced to don a straitjacket. She then was placed in a wooden chair with her ankles tied to the chair’s legs, holding her legs slightly apart. Ludlow placed a vibrator on the table before her and left her for several hours. Even if she could wiggle out of the straitjacket the dildo would be tantalizingly just out of reach. This was the carrot, so to speak. Ludlow then left the room; without actually saying as much he let Layla know she was under observation. Any attempt to escape would be utterly futile. 

Left by herself for an extended period of time, bare-assed, Layla ‘stewed in her own juices’ so to speak. As a result, by the time Ludlow returned Layla was in a highly agitated state. Her mouth was dry, she fidgeted and squirmed her bare bottom about on the wooden chair. Somewhat mesmerized by the phallus on the table before her, she was to some extent aroused, even. 

Ludlow walked around to the far side of the table and assumed a casual posture, his arms lightly crossed across his chest. “Comment ca va, Madamoiselle Layla?” Seething in rage, the Lebanese lesbian barely acknowledged his presence. I’ve got a little treat for you, Layla,” he said cryptically, “something I think you’ve been interested in for quite some time now.” He waited until Layla looked up, made the slightest of eye contact, then reached over and pressed a button on the room’s wall mounted intercom device. “Come in, Barbara.”

Barbara made her entrance striding into the room on a pair of shiny black patent-leather stiletto-heeled pumps. Her blonde hair was done up, of course she wore her blue-tinted wire-framed glasses. Her outfit surprised even Ludlow’s wildest expectations of the girl; the black lace bustier she wore seemed perfect for the occasion, it displayed her bountiful tits to their best advantage. From where the bustier ended at her waist to where the lace-trimmed tops of her thigh-high stockings began Barbara wore nothing; her naked ass was quite on display, her pussy quite accessible beneath the diminutive triangle of golden fur that adorned her mons. It seemed to Ludlow amazing how Barbara continued to out do herself time after time; every time he looked at her she seemed more and more beautiful. The black velvet ribbon choker about her neck made her look like a schoolmistress from a pervert’s wet dream. To Layla she looked positively delicious. 

Ludlow had given explicit instructions; Barbara understood exactly what was expected of her. She perched her ass on the edge of the table and hiked a high-heeled foot onto the back of Layla’s chair, quite shamelessly exposing herself. Layla practically drooled at the sight of Barbara’s bald crotch mere inches from her face; her bare pussylips seemed to quiver before Layla’s very eyes, her gaping mouth. 

Looking Layla right in the eye, Barbara put her finger in her mouth, pursing her lips as she sucked upon it. Making it wet, she withdrew her finger from her lips and let her hand slowly travel down to the pink lips of her bald little pussy. With her wet finger she began to slowly describe gentle circles over her clitoris. 

Layla’s eyes were darted back and forth, between the dildo on the table and the lovely young Barbara. Ludlow uncapped a bottle of water he’d brought in the room and held it out for Layla, allowing her to drink. As she quenched her thirst he finally spoke. He was brief and to the point. “We’ve been on to you and your operation for some time, Layla. You will talk now.”

“Nevair!” she exclaimed in her heavy accent, spitting a mouthful of water at him. 

“Oh, yes, I’m afraid you will,” Ludlow replied, wiping his face. “You will talk and you will tell us then entire list of names of contacts within your organization.” 

“Nevair!” she repeated, a little quieter this time. Barbara had folded the bra-cups of her bustier down so that now her tits were held out before her as if on a shelf. She continued stroking herself, while with her other hand she began pinching and tickling her nipples. 

Ludlow continued. “You will talk, Layla. Let me tell you why. One of two things is going to happen: if you talk, you can go free. Under a program designed to protect witnesses in such cases you will be allowed to resettle in Canada, under a false identity known only to yourself, and of course, to Her Majesty’s Government.

“If you don’t talk, your absence from the University will be explained in the newspapers by a story describing your apprehension and subsequent confession. A public trial will be staged in which you are exonerated, due to your complete cooperation with British authorities. Your location will be made known to your own organization, of course. We can both assume that their methods of dealing with suspected traitors are quite a bit more, shall we say, primitive, than are ours?” 

“Be that as it may,” he shrugged, “the choice is yours.” He picked up the vibrator, switched it on and began to stroke it across the tops of Layla’s thighs. It was the closest he had come to touching her since that afternoon in her office. Layla stared at Barbara, transfixed by the beautiful young woman who continued to shamelessly pleasure herself, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. Ludlow could tell that his exquisite torture was having its’ effect; Layla seemed straining to spread her thighs apart as wide as her bonds would allow. She seemed to be attempting to scoot forward in her chair in a vain attempt to gain access to the buzzing vibrator that Ludlow held inches away from the juncture of her thighs.  

“So what will it be, Layla?” Ludlow asked, “a life of freedom where you seek whatever it is that pleases you?” He indicated the lovely Barbara. Her head was flung back, her eyes shut, her lips parted; she was beginning to make little whimpering noises.

“Feelthy pig!” she cried out, then slumped over and began to sob.  

Ludlow continued, “. . . or a completely unthinkable alternative?”

Layla looked up, her beautiful face a mask, mascara trailing down her cheeks where her tears poured like rain. “Very well,” Layla said quietly, “you win . . .   . . . I ask only one thing.” She seemed to be having difficulty tearing her eyes from the wanton spectacle of Barbara, pleasuring herself. Layla continued. “When this is over, when I have told everything . . .   . . . could you . . .   . . . would you . . .” Her voice trailed off to a near-whisper. 

Ludlow regarded her with a slightly raised eyebrow. It occurred to him how vulnerable she must feel, strapped to a chair, bare-assed; how utterly pathetic she looked. 

By now Barbara was making no attempt to control the gasps and moans that escaped her lips as she continued to masturbate for the benefit of Layla’s interrogation. A hand methodically went up and down as she plunged two fingers in and out of her wet quim. 

“. . . could we please make love together?” Layla pleaded in a small voice, “the girl . . . . . . your Barbara . . . . . . and myself?”

Neither Ludlow nor Barbara replied. Layla bent over in the chair, grovelling before them in her desperation. “Perhaps even . . .” she whined, “. . . I will love you, Jonathon. Let me love you!” This last in a whisper that was barely audible. 

“I make the deals here, not you, Layla,” Ludlow said firmly. “You talk, you tell us everything, and if I’m satisfied we’ll take it from there.” 

Layla began singing like a canary.

* * *

Layla’s confession produced phenomenal results; no less than twenty terrorist operatives were uncovered from amongst the University student population alone. When they were interrogated, entire cells of terrorists, including both active and ‘sleeper’ agents, were rolled up across Europe. It was a devastating blow to the terrorist’s capabilities and a stunning victory for the Western nations, as the plans for insidious acts of death and destruction were revealed and literally nipped in the bud.

It was a busy, weekday afternoon in London’s business district; the sky was overcast, there was a gentle drizzle; typical early spring weather. Barbara and Ludlow were walking together, arm-in-arm, he in a tan trench coat, she in hip boots and a open longrider’s coat that swept to the ground. They made a handsome couple, an air of classy sophistication about them. 

At the end of the street was the embankment, a wide strip of grass and trees and a pedestrian pavement enjoy a walk by the river. They crossed the street. Some pigeons scattered. They passed a newsstand; both glanced at the headlines, both silently digested the latest news of the war. They made their way to little stone wall by the river. Neither one spoke for the longest time. 




The Hottest Fire Ch. 11



“Whatever became of Layla?” Barbara asked at long last. “Did The Organization make good on our offer to relocate her with a new identity?”

“Of course not,” Ludlow replied. “To do so would have left ourselves open to future threats. That was just a bluff I threw out there. The silly girl was in such a state of distraction that she took the bait.”

“Then what became of her?”

“She was discharged from the University faculty under less than honourable conditions, declared persona non grata throughout the British Commonwealth and deported back to Beirut.”

“Well, that’s not such a bad punishment,” Barbara said. “She got off light!”

“Not exactly,” Ludlow answered. “The last I heard the Syrian Secret Intelligence Services were keeping her on her knees, having her give blowjobs to literally thousands of their agents-in-training.”

“Ooh!” Barbara winced, “that’s a bit rough!”

”I have no sympathy for her,” Ludlow stated curtly. “If she’d have been allowed to carry on, who could tell the number of innocent lives she would have been responsible for ending?” 

Barbara simply nodded, her eyes narrowing to a cold squint. Jonathon was right. The Organization had seasoned her, she now understood and accepted their work for the dirty business it sometimes was. She took his hand in hers, intertwined her fingers with his. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go to the whorehouse.”  



The Hottest Fire Ch. 12



Chapter 12. EPILOGUE 

Six Months Later . . .

Ludlow looked up from where he was reading the evening paper by the fireplace. The ubiquitous Gabrielle stood demurely in the doorway, announcing her presence with a small clearing of the throat. The young woman wore her customary outfit; black fishnet body stocking, black patent leather stiletto-ed heels, and a choker of black velvet ribbon tied tight about her neck that featured a cameo brooch. She nothing else save for the frilly white apron that barely covered her front. Her honey-coloured hair was tied up into a tight bun, held in place with a tiny little white lace maid’s bonnet that featured a narrow black ribbon tied in a bow.

“Ah, what is it, Gabrielle?” he asked, tapping the ash from his cigar into the hearth. As usual, Ludlow found it all but impossible to keep his eye from travelling over the young woman’s near perfect form. The miniscule apron served for hardly any purpose but to emphasize her assets; from the rounded tops of her full breasts to the generous curves of her hips to her long, magnificent legs that seemed just made to wrap about a man’s midsection. It occurred to him that if not for the immodest cover that the tiny apron provided, the beautiful young lady might as well be stark naked. 

“The Monsieur Smith has arrived, monsieur,” Gabrielle said simply. 

“Ah, yes, show him in, show him in,” Ludlow replied. 

Ludlow got out of his chair, ran his hands down the front of his smoking jacket and looked in the mirror above the fireplace to straighten his tie – it was the regimental colours of his old outfit: le 13eme Demi-Brigade des Parachutistes, la Legion Etranger; the French Foreign Legion. 

The man who walked into the front parlour looked an awful sight, even to his experience eye. Filthy and unshaven, Ludlow had to credit him for his unkempt clothing. He truly looked the part of a piece of human flotsam. Ludlow involuntarily wrinkled his nose at the man’s stench. It wasn’t simply that he stank; Smith smelled like a Bosnian refugee camp in the summertime. Ludlow suspected he’d slept in those clothes for a month. 

“Good God, Harrington, you look a sight!” he exclaimed. “Let’s get a brandy into you, eh?”

“Thank you, Sir J.”

Ludlow poured a generous measure of brandy into a snifter and handed it to Harrington, then lifted his own glass. “To absent comrades.”

“Absent comrades.” The seasoned operator downed the liquor in a single draught, breathing a satisfied “ . . . aaah!” Ludlow appreciated what Harrington was now going through; the near total state of exhaustion at the completion of a rigorous mission, the feeling of utter relief at having survived, having made it to sanctuary. 

“Very well, now then, Gabrielle will show you to a wash before we get down to your debrief.” The girl in the French maid costume appeared at the sound of her voice, indicated for the new man to follow her down the hall. For perhaps the millionth time Ludlow appreciated the rear view of Gabrielle’s fabulous body; how the round cheeks of her naked ass undulated beneath the tantalizing fishnets as she walked. 

While Harrington bathed Ludlow prepared for the debrief. The man looked a damn sight better when he returned; he seemed to be positively glowing. Funny what a shave and one of Gabrielle’s little ‘treatments’ could do for a man. “Now then, let’s get down to it, shall we?”

* * *

At the conclusion of Harrington’s debrief Ludlow announced, “Now I’d like to take the opportunity to introduce you to one of our newest operators.” 

Harrington arched an eyebrow. 

Ludlow went on, “I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce you to Miss Barbara.” 

As accustomed as he was to seeing Barbara nude, when she entered the room Ludlow swore once more she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Apart from her shoulder length blonde hair and blue-tinted wire-framed granny glasses, Barbara wore nothing but a sheer shirt-like garment that was made of totally transparent fabric. 

“Hello, Mr. Harrington,” she said sweetly voice that tinkled like a bell. “Sir J told me you’ve just completed a hard assignment.” She seemed perfectly comfortable to allow all present to inspect her practically naked body. Her full breasts jutted out, pink nipples poked through thin cloth, stiffened by exposure to the air. Her blonde pubic hair was close cropped and shaven into a tiny Isosceles triangle; the slit of her bald pussy quite visible below. For the millionth time, Ludlow was filled with love and admiration for her. Not only had Barbara completed her training with flying colours, she proved to be cool under fire like he suspected she would, and accepted the most arduous of duties as a challenge; all traits of a brilliant operator. 

Ludlow spoke up. “Uh, Barbara, perhaps you could escort our man Harrington to the, uh, decompression chamber.” This last said with a slight wink and a nod. Assisting a fellow operator in a little post-mission ‘stress-relief’ was a time-honoured ritual within the Organization. As a newly graduated field agent, it was considered a privilege for Barbara to perform this traditional duty.

Barbara’s reply was a smile as she took the new man’s hand. She paused at the door where Gabrielle still stood, apparently awaiting further instructions, and whispered something in the maid’s ear that caused the young woman’s eyes to go wide. Gabrielle looked directly at Ludlow’s crotch; in the presence of all this near-naked female flesh he had become quite stiff in his trousers, and already sported quite a tent beneath his silken smoking jacket. 

Gabrielle wordlessly went to her knees before him and obediently opened the front of his clothing, releasing his straining erection from its previous confines. Forming an ‘O’ with her forefinger and thumb, she gently stroked him into her parted lips. Ludlow’s eyes narrowed into slits as her hot, wet mouth engulfed his rock hard cock. 

Barbara glanced over her shoulder at Ludlow as she departed the room. She gave him a wink that spoke volumes, then pointing first to her face and back at Ludlow, she wordlessly mouthed the words: I-LOVE-YOU.

THE END 

Author’s Comment: It’s exciting to receive your comments regarding THE HOTTEST FIRE. I appreciate all of your input; indeed this is what I sought when I presented my work on Literotica. Please note, this story was never intended to be anything but a work of pure erotic fiction of the most fantastic variety. Because I’m a long-time fan of the spy thriller genre, I thought it might be amusing to create an erotic tale based on a ‘secret agent’ plot line, and the violence suggested in Chapter One is merely a foil to support this theme. I hope reading this story was as fun and entertaining for you as writing it was for me.

- Velvet Hammer