Russian into Marriage

by Paddy Killeen

I’m not saying that the majority of my clients are down at heel but it is rare I get someone as rich as Nikolai Kadinsky. A recent player in Ireland’s investment community he financed everything from massive construction projects to sports teams. He was also known for being unscrupulous, ruthless, and bad tempered.

When he stormed into my office one day, it was as though he had a grudge against me, Snowy hid under the sofa. That was a bad omen.

I invited him to sit down but he said he hadn’t got time for that he just stood there towering over me in an almost menacing manner.

“I know your seedy reputation, Killeen,” he said, in his thick Russian accent, “and I have a job that’s right down your alley. Money is no object but I want results and I want them fast.”

“What’s the job?” I asked.

“I want you to follow and discredit my son’s fiancé, I want every bit of dirt you can dig up, I want photographs of who she meets and if you can fuck her and photograph that – so much the better.”

“Can I ask what your objection to the relationship is?”

“She a fucking money grubbing whore that’s what,” he yelled, “my son is only 21 years old, this old bag is 40 but somehow she managed to seduce him into thinking he loves her. I don’t know if she gives the best blowjobs in the world but that’s up to you to find out.”

He tossed an envelope on my desk, “There are all the details – call me as soon as you have something – and make it quick.”

Kadinsky slammed the door so hard on the way out it skewed all the pictures on the wall. I opened up the envelope to find a wad of cash, two or three photos and some background information on Mary Anglin. She was in fact 41 years old, occupation actress, had no known relatives and nobody seemed to know what school she attended or even if she was Irish. Most of what was known of her appeared to be gleaned from her resume, which gave her statistics and a short list of productions she appeared in.

As I gazed admiringly at her 10 X 8s there was a knock at the door, I shouted come in and then nearly fell out of my seat as my second visitor of the day was no other than Mary Anglin herself.

“I thought I make your job easy,” she said, with a smile, and then showed me her badge. She turned out to be Fiona Buckley, an investigator for an EU agency I’d never heard of.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take the envelope and contents,” she said, and then putting on a pair of rubber gloves she scooped them up, except for the money, which I’d already put in my desk drawer, and slipped everything into a plastic bad.

“Make me a coffee and I’ll tell you all about it,” she smiled.

I put the lock on the office door, ushered her into my living quarters and invited her to sit down while I put the coffee on.

“You must understand that everything I say to you is in strict confidence,” she began.

“Sure – absolutely,” I replied, anxious to find out what the fuck was going on.

“I’ve been trying to get a sample of Kadinsky’s DNA for over three months,” she said, “He’s wanted for questioning in several European countries with regard to his shady business interests but he’s also the prime suspect in the murder case. We think he killed, August Sebring, a member of the European Parliament. The victim seems to have backed out of a financial arrangement they were cooking up together.”

“I find it hard to believe that you’d get engaged to his son just to get near to him,” I grinned, shaking my head from side to side, “that’s certainly going beyond the call of duty.”

“That was an accident,” she snapped, obviously unimpressed that I found the situation amusing, “posing as an out of work actress I took a job with a landscaping company that maintained the gardens Kadinsky mansion. I was snooping around in the house pretending to be looking for the toilet when we bumped into each other.”

“And it was love at first sight?”

“Well it was for the kid, the next thing I know we’re out on a date and then he’s asking me to move into the guest house with him. At first, I think his father was OK with it, he only thought his boy was doing what any hot blooded Russian would do – fucking the ass off some woman.”

Looking at Fiona’s gorgeous legs and tits I could see, to paraphrase Tennyson, where “a young man’s fancy could turn to love.” She certainly didn’t look forty-one, she had beautiful youthful features, long black hair, and deep blue bedroom eyes. Add to this fact that she had full red lips that looked capable of giving the best blowjob in the world and you could see why any young man might pop a pimple or two.

“How’s the coffee coming,” she asked, crossing her legs in the most seductive fashion.

I went over to my kitchen unit, dug out my best mugs and poured her a cup. Like me, she took it black.

“Unfortunately in spite of living in the grounds I couldn’t get near the house for camera’s and bodyguards, she continued, sipping on her coffee, “and so I pushed for the engagement suspecting his father would not be happy with our age difference and would hire someone to dig the dirt on me.”

“So you left your resume and photos where he could see them if he snooped around the guest house?”

“Exactly, and as soon as they’d disappeared, another two agents and myself tailed him 24/7, hoping he’d end up coming to someone like you.”

“But surely it would have been easier to have acquired his DNA by following him into a restaurant and grabbing his glass after he’d left.

“Not a chance, you’re talking about “Cautious Kadinsky.” Law enforcement agencies have been trying to entrap him for years but he’s never slipped up once. He carries around a pack of hand wipes and cleans everything off. It was a stroke of luck that we managed to scrape a little DNA from the victim because when it comes down to it nobody is perfect, and we just happen to have a great forensics team. ”

“How do you know he wasn’t wearing gloves when he handed me the stuff?” I inquired.

“Because I watched him get out of the car with the envelope in his bare hands. Of course, I shall have to take your DNA before I leave so we can isolate his.”

“And I suppose you’ve got his son’s DNA for comparison?” I said, thinking she’d probably had a crack full.

“More than you’ll ever know,” she said, obviously thinking along similar lines.

I watched her as she sipped on that coffee, she raised her eyes over the mug, as if she sensed I was looking at her.

“So what were your instructions?” she asked.

“The usual, I had to follow you, dig the dirt and if possible fuck you and photograph it.”

“So that Daddy could show his boy?”

“I guess that’s the idea.”

“Well I do need to break it off with my young lover and I need to do it without exposing my true identity, then as soon as the DNAs tested and compared, I can make a clean break and get the authorities here to make the arrest.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Holy fuck – do you want me to spell it out for you – set up the camera and get your clothes off.”

The way that she said that made me think her need was probably greater than mine so it gave me a bit of an advantage.

“I’d like to watch you take your clothes off first,” I said, laying back in my seat ready for a performance.

“You’re a pervert.”

“No – I just appreciate a beautiful woman so I don’t like to rush things.”

She shook her head as if getting a little impatient with me but then very slowly she took off her top. Fiddling with the hooks on her bra, perhaps to tease a little, she slipped it off, covering her tits with her arms for a few seconds. When she removed them, and let those firm beauties point right at me I took a deep breath. Fiona, realizing that she was making me chomp at the bit, took even more time to undo her skirt and let it drop slowly to the floor. She was wearing a pair of very flimsy white panties and she wriggled out of them seductively, making my dick press harder and harder against my pants.

After she was completely naked I quickly set up the camera taking my clothes off at the same time. When I’d stripped everything off she stood and stared at me like you would if you were buying a horse.

“Is that all you have to offer,” she said, looking down at my dick.

I guess my expression was priceless and she started to laugh pushed me onto my bed sofa and grabbed hold of my balls, she then went down on my cock and slid it as far as it was possible into her mouth. After a brief pause, she began to work up and down it, fondling my scrotum with her long slender fingers as she did so. When she suddenly stopped, withdrew and asked me if it was OK, my body was jerking up and down as I was on the verge of cumming.

“It’s great,” I managed to stammer, and with that, she smiled, plunged it back in her mouth and sucked until I blew my load.

Holy shit I was exhausted by the time the contents of my balls had coated her tonsils. However, I meant to suck and fondle her body until she yelled for mercy.

I started off real gentle. Laying her back on the bed, I lightly licked her nipples before sucking hard on them. At the same time I reached down and inserted one finger into her wet crack, it felt so inviting I would like to have rammed my dick in it right then but I wanted to eat her out first.

Moving down her smooth warm body with little kisses, I flicked my pussy fluffer along the inside of her thighs before putting my face between her legs and probing her bush with my tongue. Her body jerked and she groaned as I began to play with the lips of her vagina as if I was strumming some exotic musical instrument. I then prized her pink folds open and inserted my tongue even further than before. She began to tremble quite violently and then her ass jumped four inches off the bed as she came, flapping her arms around as if it was too much to take.

Before she settled down I opened up her legs and I plowed my cock into her and held it there for a moment before driving in and out like someone possessed. Her cunt was well lubricated but was still as tight as a mouse’s ear, and it wasn’t long before my balls started to go on the boil.

Sensing that I was about to cum she wrapped her legs around me and grabbing onto my face, crushed her lips against mine and attempted to stick her tongue in my mouth. It was all very wild and wonderful and I was yelling fuck, at the top of my lungs as I felt my hot cum move up my pipe and into her quim.

I’d forgot all about the camera until I rolled off of her and saw the red light flickering. I gave a little wave for the young Mr. Kadinsky and then went over to the kitchen cabinet to get a bottle while she wiped the surplus goo from between her legs.

Still breathing a bit heavy I asked her if she wanted a drink, she said she’d like some wine, so we sat around naked for the next hour sipping on our Bordeaux. Fortunately, she drank too much to allow her to drive and so she texts Kadinsky junior, made some excuse and spent the night with me. We didn’t get much sleep, but that was OK.

The next day she left early to go to a lab, where she’d arranged to have the tests done. When she received a positive report she phoned me to say she was sending the material back to me and so I could give it back to my client along with the photos I’d taken. As soon as I left his house the police would move in.

Nikolai was naturally happy when I phoned and said the job was done. When I dropped the photos off he looked at them and laughed out loud, “I knew she was a whore,” he said, “I can’t wait to see the expression on her face when she gets a look at these.”

With that, I got a pat on the back and a nice little bonus that added up to 5000 Euro in total.

As I drove through the gate on my way back to the office the Gardai were lined up ready to make their move.

I’d hardly done anything for the money and so I split it with Wanda and the Colonel to put toward their cat charity. As for Fiona I never saw her again but I’m always hoping that she’ll get another case in Ireland one of these days. THE END

Fully Illustrated Online Sex Toy Catalog

Copyright Paddy Killeen 2017. You may not sell, license, sub-license, rent, transfer or distribute any part of these stories or the photographs herein in any format, or claim ownership.
Author
In an effort to blend reality with fiction the author and the protagonist are essentially one and the same. Their oneness is reflected in their choices, their backgrounds and their obvious dislike for the conventional.

%d bloggers like this: