Johnnie Faero in the Seychelles

by Cristiano Caffieri

A Dangerous Mission

Johnnie Faero loves his job because it’s living life on the edge. As a covert operative for a highly secret European intelligence organization, referred to as Agence Vingt-deux Vingt-deux, he gets involved in some very dangerous situations, however, there are some great perks. In addition to traveling all over the world, and getting paid handsomely for it, there is the sex. Johnnie has fucked more beautiful women than most men could dream of.

As part of his contract, he is not allowed to form long term relationships, and that suits him fine. Unfortunately, some women do become attached to the suave handsome agent but he makes it clear that he can make no commitments, and the words “I love you,” are not in his vocabulary. Despite his ability to attract the opposite sex and get into their panties, he is, always, every inch a gentleman.

Johnnie is well-liked within the organization even though close friendships are not encouraged. He does have one superstition that some folk might find a little strange. Before every mission, he pokes his finger into the crack of Alina, the woman who manages what is known as the transformation room. She assembles all the disguises, false passports, airline tickets, and weapons that he will need on a mission, and it all takes place in a private room.

Alina is much older than Johnnie but is still attractive and is a fun person to be around. The fingering all started as a joke during one of his fittings before a mission where he was confronted by a terrorist with an AK 47 pointing right at his guts. The gun misfired giving Johnnie the few seconds he needed to break the man’s neck. He somehow tied this miraculous escape to sliding his finger in Alina’s tight but very wet cavity that day. As a consequence, he now performs the little ritual before all his missions and she doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, she’s hoping one day he’ll substitute his dick for the finger.

Prior to his mission to the Seychelles last year he was kitted out as Matthew Garry, a tweed suited, horn-rimmed spectacled biologist. The real Matthew Garry was involved in a fatal car accident in South Korea while studying the mating habits of the Jeju Salamander.

Johnnie had learned everything there was to know about the eccentric scientist from his old school friends to his favorite salad dressing, and after picking up all his gear and sliding his finger into Alina’s crack a few times for good luck, he was on his way to the Seychelles. Max Thibodeaux, the head man at the agency, had launched this mission to prevent Somali pirates, who terrorized shipping off the coast of Africa, from expanding their area of activity. A well-known villain named Willie Schober was suspected of financing the pirates and proving them with faster boats and better weapons. A career criminal, he’d managed to escape justice for years by paying off officials throughout the world and was now running his operation from a private island on the edge of the Seychelles. He had built a sophisticated control center there and Johnnie’s job was to blow it sky-high, preferably with Willie still in it.

As they couldn’t smuggle a gun and explosives on a commercial airliner and fly straight to the islands it was arranged that Johnnie would pick up his assets in Nairobi and then to the coast where a boat had been arranged to take him to Victoria in the Seychelles the next day. There he would pose as Matthew Garry the biologist who was there to study the native Salamanders.

Because the agency leaves nothing to chance, Johnnie first flew to Chicago, where Matthew had taught at the university, as arriving from Paris might arouse suspicion. There was a 12-hour stopover and this allowed him to look up an old girlfriend. He gave her a call and was immediately invited to her apartment where she was just about to open up a bottle of wine.

Knowing that she liked to sip on a good Beaux Freres and suck on a throbbing cock, he quickly stripped off his disguise and took a cab over to her fashionable Streeterville apartment with a bunch of roses and a pack of Skyn condoms. Élise was a fashion model who had moved from France to the United States and although she had taken on an American accent she still made love like a French woman.

When she opened the door for him she was dressed in a see-through negligee that sent his blood pressure up 10 points.

“I am so glad to see you, Jean-Paul,” she smiled, using the name that friends and neighbors know him as, and having no idea that he was a secret agent she went on to ask if he was still working for the same boring auditing firm.

“Well I wouldn’t call it boring,” he replied, “I do get to travel around the world poking into other people’s affairs.”

“The only things you like poking are warm and wet.”

“Is yours wet at the moment?” he asked.

“Why don’t you poke it and find out.”

He didn’t need a second invitation, he pressed her up against the wall crushed his lips against hers, and pulled up the negligee until his hand made contact with her shaved crack. She gasped and gripped his arms eagerly anticipating his next move. He used his fingertip to run up and down the outside and then slipped it deep inside of her.

Élise went hysterical and cried out fuck me, Jean-Paul, fuck me, let’s do it over there on the Bearskin rug.”

Johnnie liked a little foreplay first but if she wanted his cock that bad he hadn’t the heart to deny her. Picking her up while still attached to her lips he carried her over to the rug and gently laid her down. Standing over her his stripped naked and so did she.

As he looked down at that gorgeous body with her tits pointing right up at him he could feel his cock getting harder and harder. She moved up between his legs and reached up to play with his balls. Desperate to taste the soft pink petals of her flower he stepped back, dropped to his knees, opened up her thighs, and stuck his face right in it.

As soon as his tongue began to swipe up and down the lips she became hysterical again. I want you so bad Jean-Paul,” she cried, “I want you to fuck me and fill me with cum.”

He bought the condoms as he didn’t know if she was on the pill but not wanting to look a gift horse in the vagina he raised himself up took aim and drove his throbbing cock into her crack as far as it would go. He then held it there and remained quite still for a few moments.

Sensing that he was teasing her she began to move her ass up and down and called out, “fuck me you bastard, fuck me!”

She asked for it and she got it. He pounded her mound until she screamed, ”I’m cumming, I’m cumming, go faster, go faster!”

Johnnie’s ass was going a mile a minute as he could feel his cum moving up his pipe and spewing into her love tunnel. Élise threw her arms back and closed her eyes as tight as she could as he continued to ram it into her.

When he withdrew she quickly took it into her mouth and sucked. Now it was time for foreplay and they played and fucked for the next two hours. Élise was disappointed that he had to take an early flight to Africa but he promised to come back to Chicago at the earliest opportunity.
As they said goodbye at the door she kissed him and said, “Nobody can fuck like you Jean-Paul, nobody.”

Changing Identity

Early the next morning, he re-assumed his Matthew Garry garb and checked himself out in the mirror. Putting on a disguise and assuming someone else’s identity was not new to him. When captured by a Middle Eastern terrorist group while posing as a French investment broker he was interrogated on every aspect of his life. Questions were thrown at him such as, “Who was your best friend at school?” he answered, “Pierre Belanger,” without hesitation. If he had hesitated to answer this mundane and seeming irrelevant question it would have been the first crack to appear in his story and that first crack can turn into a fatal flaw.

Regardless of how he well he concealed his true identity and the purpose for being in their country he knew the chance of getting out of their encampment alive was somewhat remote. On the third night, he broke the necks of his two guards and escaped on a motorcycle.

As he tore through the gate of the compound he came under sustained gunfire and took a bullet in the leg. He managed to ride twenty kilometers with blood pouring from his wound before he started to lose consciousness and careened down a hillside coming to an abrupt halt in the middle of the chicken pen.

When he came to he’d been taken into a farmhouse and was being attended to by an Arab lady while her children stood there staring at him in wide-eyed wonder. At sunrise, after a short nap, he was confident he could continue his journey but felt he had to give something to the woman and her family for looking after him and possibly saving his life. This was not that easy considering his captors and taken his watch, wallet, and his OpsPhone. Fortunately, the phones are thumbprint activated and anybody trying to access data any other way simply causes them to delete the classified information and replace it with files appropriate to the business he was supposed to be conducting.

The gift situation resolved itself when Johnnie noticed that Mohammed, the man of the house, seemed fascinated by his suit and kept feeling the texture of the material, as did the wife and children. Obviously, good tailoring was hard to come by in this remote location. In a move that delighted his hosts, and gave him a new disguise, he took off his clothes and exchanged them for some well worn, home-made and ill-fitting garments that hung on a peg by the door.

The fact that his suit pants had a bullet hole and a large bloodstain didn’t seem to worry Mohammed, and his wife immediately put his hundred Euro tie around her Hijab as added decoration.

The nearest town was about an hour away and he was beginning to feel groggy again by the time he reached the local police station. It wasn’t easy convincing the local Gendarmerie that he was an investment broker from France and that he’d been kidnapped by terrorists, but they eventually allowed him to Skype the offices of Henri Delorme and sometime later an ambulance turned up from the capital to take him to hospital. Here he languished for several days bemoaning the fact that he’d not managed to meet up with the terrorist leader that he had been sent to eliminate but some months later an American drone did the job for him.

At O’Hare, awaiting his flight to Nairobi, he engaged several people in conversation in his new role as Matthew Garry. The real challenge came when he chattered up a young woman who looked as if she had just stepped out of a page in Vogue Magazine. To his dismay, when mentioning he’d done research in South Korea, she advised him that she had just spent several weeks there and had traveled extensively throughout the peninsular.

Although he had a good grasp of the region’s geography he thought it might be wiser to change the subject. Putting on his bumbling professorial facade he managed to completely re-direct the topic at hand and they ended up discussing the quality of Kenyan coffee. As he left the young lady slightly dazed, and infinitely better informed about the merits of a nice cup of Nyanza he felt quite pleased with his performance.

Johnnie has been coached in acting techniques by one of two drama directors on the staff of 22-22. Unfortunately, the man’s liking for alcohol caused him to be a little indiscreet at times, this may also have been a contributing factor in his death. However, what caused his car to plunge over a ravine in the French Alpes may always be a bit of a mystery.

Something Smells in Nairobi and it isn’t the Coffee

The flight was direct and uneventful. When he left the plane at Jomo Kenyatta International, the woman who now knew much more about coffee gave him a wave. He waved back and as he did so he got that strange uneasy feeling that he got sometimes when everything wasn’t quite right.

Johnnie saw her again at the luggage carousel and took a photo of her with his cell phone. In the reception area, she was met by a burly black man who looked like two American footballer players glued together. He managed to get a quick snap of the man before he turned his ugly tattooed face towards him. Johnnie quickly faked a phone call and hoped he hadn’t been noticed.

The man hired to take him to his hotel, provide a gun and explosives and then drive him to Mombasa the next day, held up a card with “Tom Whitcher” written on it. As an extra security precaution, an operative might use more than one identity on a mission. In fact, the unofficial motto of Agence Vingt-Deux Vingt-Deux was “Neminem crede,” (trust no one).

Johnnie identified himself to the man, whose name was Rueben, by giving him a code number. Rueben carried his bag to an aging Mercedes and drove as if he was the only one on the road until they reached the Hilton Hotel on Mama Ngina Street. Rueben assured Johnnie that he would be outside the hotel at 8 a.m the following day with the items he needed and ready to drive him to Mombasa.

After handing over the luggage to a bellboy he drove off in a cloud of smoke. When the car was out of sight Johnnie tipped the bellboy, took back his luggage, and took a cab to the Boulevard Hotel a short distance away. Once settled into his room there he contacted HQ and in a scrambled conversation confirmed some of the arrangements and inquired if the people he’d photographed were known to the agency. When he received an answer he took a deep breath. The woman was Terri
Schober, Willi’s daughter, and the black man who met her at the airport was Abassi Abassi, one of his most feared African lieutenants.

He thought it was ironic that he had chosen to test his character on the offspring of his target at the airport and he cast his mind back to all she had said about her travels in Korea and how they might relate to her father’s operation. She’d certainly not been tied to any of his dealings in the past but she was just 19 and maybe about to move into the family business.

There was no doubt in his mind that she was heading for Willi’s island and he couldn’t help thinking what a shame it would be to blow up this beautiful young woman – but it was not his job to take such things into consideration when there was a greater evil at stake. His bigger worry at this time was whether, during their conversation, he had shown the slightest chink in his armor.

On assignment Johnnie usually stays as close to his hotel or other accommodation as possible, the reason being that some little accident, traffic jam, stampede, or riot could prevent him from carrying out a timely action and could lead to the entire mission being aborted. This almost happened to him once in Vienna when he decided to take a relaxing cruise on the Danube. The boat developed a mechanical failure and after half an hour of apologies from the engineer who was trying to fix it Johnnie dove overboard and swam to shore, much to the amazement of the other passengers. They actually applauded when he climbed onto the bank and he gave a bow before dashing off to his appointment.

As he had lots of time before he left for Mombasa he decided to take a cab to Java House on Limuru Road – not a particularly fancy place but they serve great coffee and the food is also very good. After a few kilometers of slow but definite progress, the traffic ground to a halt. They were right outside a bar that had an open front and there, as large as life, sharing a beer together was no other than Rueben, his presumed safe contact in Nairobi and Abassi Abassi.

Obviously, his contact had turned bad and even though Rueben only knew him as Tom Whitcher, supposedly booked in at the Hilton, he still felt quite vulnerable. There was no doubt that the information about someone from Paris who required explosives and was going to meet up with a ship in Mombasa would raise red flags in the Willi Schober camp.

He continued to the Java House although his interest in coffee had waned somewhat. It was lunchtime by now, the place was quite full and a bit noisy but he did manage to find a table and text Max in code. If the ambiance had allowed he might have spoken to him in OpsSpeak, a language invented by some nerdy operative so they could communicate privately while others were in earshot. It was based on an idea the Americans came up with in WWII when they used Navajo Indians as radio operators. It frustrated the hell out of the Germans.

Max said that Rueben would be dealt with and ordered Johnnie to go immediately to the airport and fly to Zanzibar. In a couple of days, a boat called Black Beauty would dock there and take him to Victoria, in the Seychelles. He added that he would arrange for a suitcase to be on board with the assets he required.

What’s Black and Beautiful? Isabelle Fortier!

Orders are orders and so Johnnie hailed a cab, collected his luggage from the hotel, and headed out to the airport. He was just able to catch a plane leaving at 2.30 and in less than two hours he was in Zanzibar. His instructions were to go to a boutique hotel called Mamamapambo in Jambiani on the east coast. The boat would pick him up there in a couple of days and take him to the Seychelles.

He was getting a bit tired of all this chasing around when there was a job to be done but when he arrived at the hotel he knew it was his kind of place and he could relax. Maybe even forget about the mission until his transport arrived.

He really got into the character during his time there and then early on Monday morning there came a knock at his door and a tall slender black woman in a white bikini said that she had been told by Monsieur Henri Delorme to pick up a Matthew Garry and take him to Victoria.

“Are you Matthew Garry?” she asked.

When he told that he was she introduced herself as Isabelle Fortier and asked to see his ID. He invited her into his room where she checked his face carefully against his passport photo and nodded her approval. She then picked up one of his bags that he had already packed, knowing that his departure was imminent, and told him the boat was ready and waiting.

After he had paid his bill and said goodbye to his hosts he walked down to the foreshore where Isabelle was standing by a dingy. She invited him to step in first and shoved it out into the water. They moved swiftly toward a long sleek white boat that bore the name Black Beauty. Color wise it didn’t seem to suit the vessel at all and he presumed that it was named after her. She was indeed a black beauty.

As he climbed over the gunwale he noticed that it was a state of the art vessel and wondered if she was the owner or just part of the crew. She barely looked 25 and he could hardly see a woman of that age owning such a prize.

Isabelle showed his around the ship which was quite luxurious but he was baffled when he saw no one else around.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?” he asked.

“We’re it,” she replied with a smile, “For the next two days it’s just you and me, don’t worry this baby can sail herself – it’s very high tech.”

Johnnie could see that but he would have preferred additional crew members, or at least Matthew Garry would, after all, he was not a covert operative. However, even Matthew thought being alone at sea with a beautiful woman for a couple of days couldn’t be all that bad – even for an academic.

Before they started the voyage he wanted to know where the suitcase was that she had been instructed to give to him. She pressed a button on the control panel and a door slid open on the side of the stairwell.

“Would you like to check it out?” she asked, pulling it from its hiding place.

He nodded and took it from her and went below to check it out. His cabin was a bit cramped but he opened up the case and there were three specially modified UZIs, some Super Thermite explosive devices, and a few other goodies. As Isabella fired up the motors, took up anchor, and headed across the Indian Ocean towards the Seychelles, Johnnie sat down and carefully began to plan the next stages in his mission.

Black Beauty was to dock in Victoria, the capital and then he was to head off by helicopter to an exclusive resort on a small island from where you could see the one over which Willi Schober now had domain. He shut down his OpsPhone when he heard Isabelle calling him.

“Did you manage to get breakfast this morning?” she asked, as his head appeared above deck.

“No, I didn’t,” he replied.

“Do you want to keep watch while I rustle up something in the galley?”

Playing the naive Matthew, he asked her what he had to watch for. “Anything unusual like flying saucers,” she joked.”

“O don’t worry,” she said, as she sensually squeezed passed him on the gangway, “it can steer itself, detect other boats, reefs and even predict the weather. All you have to do is sit here and look important.”

After his brush with the bikini-clad captain, his temperature slightly elevated, he stepped onto the deck and took his position in the cockpit. As he sat back in the big leather chair looking out across the rolling sea he began to examine the events of the last hour and attempted to sum up Isabelle Fortier, if that was her real name. He knew that she must be a trusted a great deal more than a man like Rueben or once again he would have been required to take on an additional identity.

22-22 did have sleepers in many parts of the world. They were paid a stipend to always be ready and like the agents operating out of Strasbourg, they had microchip implant so their location could be pinpointed at all times. This did not, however, indicate who they were meeting in a public place and so was not helpful in situations such as the one encountered with Rueben in Nairobi.

A year ago Johnnie had been involved in sleeper training at a camp in Chile. They are required to attend such camps for one week every year. It’s a very tricky situation bringing 40 or 50 people together to what essentially is a spy camp. They are required to wear masks so that they are able to keep their true identity secret. And although their microchip is checked before they join training sessions it’s very tempting for both criminal organizations and other agencies to try and infiltrate. Someone did manage to do this at the Chile camp and they would no doubt have been arrested and sent to trial if they had not met with an unfortunate climbing accident. It taught the other sleepers two important lessons “Honor your pledge of allegiance and always check your ropes.”

Johnnie felt sure that Isabella was indeed a sleeper agent but protocol denied him the right to ask unless a situation arose where it was essential to know. On the other hand, he was not to trust anyone and so he felt obligated to keep his eye on her and he had done that diligently since they met. She was extremely easy on the eye.

Being secretive and not talking about yourself tends to be a bit of a giveaway and so operatives are taught to gab like anyone else but to only impart useless information. As they sat at the table in the bow of the ship eating eggs and bacon and drinking fresh-squeezed orange juice Isabelle did say she was part French and lived on the island of Mayotte, a Department of France just off the coast of Madagascar.

He, as Matthew, babbled on about his time at Oxford and the fact that he was had a habit of dabbling in various pursuits and found it difficult to settle on one discipline. His present interest was studying the sex life of mollusks on which he was writing a paper. This prompted Isabelle to ask a rather direct question.

“What about your sex life Matthew – are you married?” she asked, eating her last morsel of breakfast and gently patting her lips with a napkin.

He, pretending to be a little surprised by her frankness replied “No I’m not,” somewhat hesitantly.

A Man and a Woman alone on a Boat – What Could Possibly Happen?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she inquired, leaning over toward him exposing her cleavage to its fullest extent.

“I’ve never had much luck with women,” he mumbled, playing the part of Matthew Garry to the hilt.

“I don’t know why,” she said, “You’re quite handsome – particularly without those glasses.”

She leaned over and took them gently away from his face and placed them on the table. Pretending to be having difficulty in seeing he reached out to retrieve them and “accidentally” put his hand on her breast. She didn’t move it but leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips, then standing up she took him by the hand she led him to the companionway and down the steps one by one.

Isabelle guided him along the narrow passageway to her cabin. Once inside she closed the door and pulled the strings on her bikini. As her beautiful nubile body revealed itself he couldn’t say WOW! Which, he would have liked to have done but instead he ran his hands over her body as if he was reading Braille, starting at the top and working his way down very slowly.

The pilot-less boat sped on at a steady 28 knots as the pair rolled gently with the swell. She seemed to like the sixty-nine position and so they sucked on each other until he came in her mouth and he absorbed a lot of her fluids at the same time.

When it came to shoving it in time, she leaned over the bunk with her beautiful black ass positioned perfectly for him to slip between those puffy pussy lips. When he was in up to his balls he grabbed onto her tits and started to pound her ass. Every time he crashed against those firm round cheeks she let out an ugh! sound and as he went faster and faster, so did she.

When he shot his load it just kept flowing and flowing. It felt so good that even after he’d given her the last drop he continued to plunge it in and out it in for a while. It was two o’clock in the afternoon before they got back on the deck.

Isabelle was smiling.

“You seem to have acquired quite a knowledge of the female anatomy for a man who hasn’t had any luck with women,” she commented dryly, standing at the control panel.

“I do read a lot,” he replied, smiling inside.

“You should leave me your book list,” she laughed.

Johnnie sat down again and put his fake glasses back on and continued to enjoy the view of her well-rounded backside. As he did so he mulled over the question of if she was a sleeper or just some mercenary simply hired to take him from point A to point B. As she moved her ass from side to side with the motion of the boat he lost his concentration for a moment but then turned his thoughts to what she might be thinking about him. He felt she must realize that he was an agent of some kind and thought it unlikely that she was taken in by the Matthew Garry character.

In the end, he decided he wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it and as he laid his glasses on the dressing table in her cabin that night – sleep was the last thing on his mind. Eventually, they both did get to sleep but were awoken bright and early with the alarm linked to the radar playing Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries. Isabelle leaped from the bed and rushed up to the deck as Johnnie followed her.

He found her looking through a scope. “It looks like a pirate mother ship out there,” she said.

“How can you tell?”

“Take a look – they’re lowering the smaller boats over the side – she’s quite a big ship – there could be several boats out there scouring the sea for prey already.”

He looked through the scope and as they were getting closer, and as Wagner kept playing, he could see that the small boat being lowered off the side was painted blue, a color used by pirates to evade being detected from the air.

“We’d better change course or we’re likely to end up in Somalia,” he said.

“Bullshit,” she grinned, “We’re going to sink the bastards – with no mother ship to come back to those that are already out to sea are going to be mighty thirsty before they find their way home.”

Johnnie was a bit shocked that she believed she could sink the hulking ship that lay in the front of them and also how callous she was – certainly 22-22 material. He had no right to question her judgment even though it seemed like sheer lunacy – she was the master of the vessel. The next few minutes demonstrated how masterful she could be. She turned on another screen and crosshairs appeared. Next, she configured something on a touch screen, checked her alignment, and started the countdown.

Picking up a pair of binoculars Johnnie could see the crew scrambling as they caught sight of the Black Beauty roaring towards them. The boat they were lowering into the water was left dangling with its occupants hanging on for dear life. Those on deck grabbed weapons and began to fire, thinking no doubt that they were about to be rammed. On the bow of their ship there was a larger mounted gun but before they could get it into position Isabelle pressed a big red button.

“Torpedo on its way baby,” she cried, and the next thing he knew a thousand pieces of mother ship were raining down on the water some of them still burning. She swerved away from the sinking remnants of the ship and settled back on course.

“Those torpedoes are just little suckers but they do an amazing job,” she cried excitedly, putting her arms around his neck and dancing around in circles. He’d never seen anyone quite so happy at seeing a potential adversary destroyed. It was quite refreshing.

The journey took a little longer than expected as they had to reduce speed to save on fuel. However, on the morning of the third day, they moored off of Victoria on the main island and customs officers came aboard to look it over.

A Violent Confrontation

The hiding place for the case was never in jeopardy and they were given a clean bill of health. Johnnie decided to leave the suitcase on the boat until he secured a helicopter to take him to the outer islands. However, before leaving he wanted to treat Isabelle to a late lunch and so she accompanied him onshore and, just a short walk from the boat a little pub caught his eye.

It was quite crowded inside but they managed to get a table.

There were lots of British ex-pats there and it was all very jolly until two grinning Neanderthals with English accents came swaggering in. As they entered they tipped an old man’s hat over his eyes and thought that to be very funny. The uglier one of the two then took a glass of beer from a waitress who was just about to serve it to a customer and then he made an almost fatal mistake.
Walking over to Johnnie he said, “I think that’s my chair you’re sitting in.” The other man flashed an idiotic smile in support of his ugly friend.

“Did you hear what I said – that’s my chair you’re sitting in.”

Johnnie got up almost apologetically with the two men enjoying every moment of their encounter until, with lightning speed, he picked up the chair and rammed the legs, with great force, into the man’s rib cage.

“It’s yours,” he said, as the man hit the floor with a thud and started coughing up blood.

The other man looked shocked but was still foolish enough to make his move. He lunged at Johnnie with a howl that suggested he’d watched too many vampire movies, slipped on the beer spilled by his whimpering partner, and crashed face-first on to the wooden table, where Isabella promptly took her fork and pinned his ear to it.

As the owner was about to call the cops the pair thought it advisable to skip lunch and make themselves scarce. There was no point in getting involved and possibly being detained for questioning.

They quickly mingled with the crowd outside and after walking a couple of blocks she turned to him, and referring to the incident back at the pub said, “I suppose you learned how to do that from a book.”

“I do quite a lot of reading,” he replied, adjusting his Matthew Garry glasses as if to emphasize the point.

Fucking the Enemy’s Daughter

Later in the day he collected his case from the boat, gave Isabelle a peck on the cheek, and walked away. The helicopter he hired took off at the arranged time and in less than an hour, he landed on the outer island where Max had rented the honeymoon cottage for him. It was situated some distance away from the others, not only for the sake of privacy but it gave a measure of safety to the guests – just in case there was an accidental explosion.

Some eyebrows were raised as he signed in alone and he thought he’d better say something or the story of the man honeymooning by himself might create suspicion in some quarters. He explained his bride’s absence by saying her passport was stolen at the airport and she was getting emergency documents that would allow her to leave the United States in the next few days.

Having no lunch he was starving by supper time but when he phoned to get room service he was told that there was a staff problem and he’d have to eat in the dining room. Johnnie didn’t want to leave his suitcase just sitting there in the cottage and so he looked around for a hiding place.
There was a trapdoor in the ceiling to allow access to the attic so he decided to explore that possibility. He stood on a chair and started to slide it back. A huge cockroach immediately fell onto his face and he almost lost his balance.

He hated cockroaches but he’d once had to share a cell with several dozen of the disgusting creatures in a Central American jail and he’d managed to desensitize himself to them. After that whenever they crawled on him he just flicked them off like one would a fly. They actually became useful during his short incarceration as he used them to taunt the fat sweaty guard who sat outside his cell and drank mugs of coffee all day.

Fashioning a blowpipe from some newspaper he would load a cockroach into it and when the guard left his desk for a few minutes he would poke it through the bars and send the unpleasant looking projectile splashing into his coffee mug. He learned almost every Spanish swear word during his two-day stay. When a sleeper turned up with a bulldozer and demolished the entire prison, which only consisted of three cells, he’d had such fun he was almost sorry to leave.

With the suitcase secured in the roof of his honeymoon cottage he wandered along the beach to the main building and entered the dining room. What a shock he got when a woman’s voice said, “Quite a coincidence seeing you here.” It was Terri Schober. “It is Mr. Carry isn’t it?”

Johnnie shouldn’t have been surprised to see Terri there with her father’s island being less two miles away but he was a little shocked and perhaps somewhat hesitant in his reply to her greeting. “It’s Garry actually – Matthew Garry,” he said, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
“O yes – you study mating habits or something.”

“Yes I do,” he said trying to sidle away from her table.

“Don’t go,” she purred, gripping hold of his hand, “sit here with me – I’ve ordered a whole bottle of wine and I can’t possibly finish it all by myself.”

Johnnie didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t drink a glass of wine as long as the waiter opened it at the table. He sat across from her and he had to admit she was quite beautiful and must have inherited her looks from her mother as her father was no oil painting.

Terri ordered a fairly hefty meal for someone with such a willowy figure. He decided to start with Oysters as they might help the evening along, especially if he could persuade her to share them. As they sampled the local cuisine with some enthusiasm they were able to conduct a more in-depth conversation than they had back in Chicago.

“Are you here alone?” he asked, obviously not wanting to let on what he knew about her father living close by.

“O I’ve come to visit my father, he owns an island – it’s just over there,” she said, pointing in a southerly direction.

“So you’re staying over there?”

“No way – it’s like a fortress – concrete, barbwire, and attack dogs – it gives me the creeps. I just spend a little time over there and he comes here most days.”

“He must be a very important man to warrant such protection.”

“He just thinks he is,” she laughed, “he likes to play King of the Castle. I think that’s why my mother divorced him, she couldn’t put up with all the drama. However, she does feel that I should spend some time with him every year and I must admit he spoils me rotten. It’s nice to have a rich dad,” she continued, fingering a magnificent watch encrusted with diamonds, “I have a lot of nice things and I’ve traveled to a whole bunch of different countries.”

The light conversation went on for over an hour and although she seemed open and pleasant he was not convinced that she was not working for her father’s organization. Johnnie’s a skeptic, he’s not even sure the Pope is Catholic and so he never lets his guard down for a moment – or at least most of the time.

As they sipped on a liqueur to wind up their meal Terri asked what cottage he was staying in. There was no use trying to deceive her as she could easily have checked at the desk. When he told her the Honeymoon Cottage she burst out laughing. Some of the other patrons looked over toward them perhaps thinking how nice it would be if they could be in on the joke.

“I like to be away from other people when I’m studying,” he mumbled trying to look embarrassed, but then casually mentioned that the place had a circular bed and a bottle of complimentary Dom Perignon that hadn’t been opened.

“Why don’t we go and pop the cork,” she giggled, “come on let’s go.”

She shoved her chair back and seemed a little unsteady on her feet. Johnnie, playing the gentlemanly Matthew took her arm to give her support. They walked along the beach like that until they got to the cottage. Terri giggled most of the way.

Once inside she ran and jumped on the bed rolling from side to side and yelling like a banshee. “Gosh this is a really great bed,” she cried, and then she got up and started to explore the room. She sniffed at the big bouquet of flowers, caressed the bottle of champagne, and threw a whole lot of teabags in the air. “Let’s have a tea party,” she yelled, and then opening a drawer she thought she’d found more tea bags but they turned out to be condoms.

“Wow, do you think we’ve got enough for tonight Matthew?” She giggled throwing her arms around him and pinning him down on the bed. “Do you think we’ll have enough?”

Still trying to play the role of the shy biologist he said he thought she wanted to open the champagne.

“To hell with the champagne,” she retorted, “I want you to tell me how those naughty Salamanders to it,”

Johnnie, always anxious to share his knowledge of nature, slowly took off his glasses intending to repeat his Braille routine but she was not going to wait for him to turn any pages, she wanted action and she wanted it right away. She was not so interested in him ramming up her pipe she wanted to ride him like they were in the Kentucky Derby. After sucking his dick and rather roughly massaging his balls she mounted him, pinning his arms to the bed and lowering her hairy muff until she’d absorbed the whole nine inches. Freeing his hands and leaning back she started at a light trot, cantered along the straight, and then went into a gallop. Her big tits made a slapping sound as they swung from side to side and it wasn’t long before his sperm shot up inside her like a fountain.

Before his dick had time to rest she went into a reverse cowboy and crashed her lovely ass against his ball while singing some song in German. When he felt his load moving up he yelled “I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” and this made her go ballistic. She pounded it so hard he wondered if it would ever be the same again. However, perhaps realizing that she might have overdone it she decided to give him a special treat. Reaching for the tube of lubricant from the bedside cabinet she liberally covered her middle finger and gently squeezed it up his ass and then began to lick his balls and the end of his cock. In spite of being a little battered and bruised it did feel good but before she could make him cum he grabbed hold of her, it was his turn to take charge.

Johnnie flung her onto her back and then taking the tube of lubricant he squeezed the entire contents on her tits then he sat on her, shoved his cock between and fucked them until he felt himself cumming and then shot his load all over her face. She loved it, but now obviously tired her eyes started to close and they both fell asleep.

A Kick in the Balls

When he awoke he was not wrapped in the silk sheets of the night before but was spread eagle on a cold concrete floor in his boxer shorts. His hands were tied to two rings in the wall and his feet to the floor. His head was spinning as he’d been drugged and his vision was somewhat blurred.

Johnnie squirmed around for around ten minutes trying to see if he could loosen his bonds but they were well tied and his chance of escaping from them remote. He knew that he’d made a grave error in cavorting with Terri, she obviously was part of her father’s organization. It looked as if Rueben, once he had received instructions to meet, equip and take Tom Whitcher aka Matthew Garry to Mombasa he had informed Willi who had jumped to the right conclusion. Somebody was heading in his direction to destroy his little empire.

At least that was how it looked until Willi entered the chamber and began to curse him for daring to take advantage of his young daughter.

“I know how to deal with garbage like you,” he said and kicked Johnnie twice in the groin with as much force as he could muster, promising to come back and do it again every few hours. “It will give you something to think about in between,” he smirked, “there’s one thing for sure you won’t have to worry about having children of your own.”

Writhing with pain Johnnie was unable to think quite as clearly as he would have liked to have done but the fact he still had his cover meant that the mission was not a complete failure. However, unless he could break his bonds he was helpless. He tried every trick in the book but the ropes stayed secure, and sometime later the door opened once again and Willi this time wearing heavy boots walked in with a big grin on his face. “I had to change my shoes,” he said, banging his feet on the floor to show just how heavy they were. Fortunately for Johnnie, before he could deliver another blow to an already tender throbbing groin Terri came rushing through the door.

“Please Daddy, don’t do this – he’s really a nice person.”

“He’s a shithead,” he growled, savoring the thought of his next kick.

“Please don’t punish him Daddy – please – it was just as much my fault as his.”

Frustrated Willi shook his head, “This man took advantage of your innocence he deserves to be punished – in fact he deserves to die – slowly,” he drew up some phlegm, moved up closer and spit directly in Johnnie’s face, “He’s a filthy perverted son of a bitch who likes to prey on young girls.”

“I’ll stay on at the resort for an extra two weeks like you want me to if you let him go.”

Willi was now standing between his victim’s legs, he raised his heavy boot and brought it down towards the groin stopping a few centimetres from his target. Terri had closed her eyes but opened them when her father broke into a maniacal laugh, “Look at the expression on his face,” he said, “I wish I had my camera.”

His tobacco stained lips hovered over Johnnie’s and his foul-smelling breath was almost unbearable. “I’m going to let my daughter release you,” he whispered menacingly, “when you get back to the resort you have twenty minutes to check out and I don’t ever want to see you in the Seychelles again. We don’t like unsavory characters like you around here.”

He delivered another gob of phlegm in Johnnie’s face before standing back up and making his exit. Terri quickly knelt beside Johnnie and started to struggle with the ropes.

“I’m so sorry about this,” she said, “Someone at the resort must have told Daddy that I went into your cottage last night, he’s got spies everywhere. Abassi Abassi came in the early hours of the morning and injected you with something and brought you here. I just couldn’t stop him.”

Johnnie vaguely remembered waking up for a few seconds and then everything went black. When his hands were untied she wiped the spit off his face with the hem of her dress. “I am really, really sorry,” she repeated, “That was an incredible night we had together.”

“It’s OK,” Johnnie told her, straining forward to untie his own feet, “I know that it wasn’t your fault”.

She helped him to stand and he staggered painfully toward the door and into a corridor where Abassi Abassi was waiting for him. “I’ve got to make sure you get off the island,” he said with a sinister smile.

He led the way out of what appeared to be a concrete bunker situated on a cliff below the main compound. Once outside he told Terri that her father wanted to see her immediately. Before she left she whispered to Johnnie that she would see him again at the resort. With his groin having ballooned to three times its normal size and the throbbing pain that accompanied it, he didn’t think he’d be any good to her for quite some time.

Getting impatient Abassi Abassi forcefully repeated his request for her to go to her father, she gave a pathetic little wave and left.

When she’d disappeared through the big iron gate Abassi Abassi told him that he’d like to rip out his heart and feed it to him but he just didn’t have time for such niceties.

“Instead I’m going to give you a break,” he grinned, his tattooed face lighting up as if he was enjoying every moment of the situation,

“I’m going to let you swim back to the resort – that shouldn’t be a problem should it?” he asked, with a sneer.

Before Johnnie could say anything Abassi Abbasi’s powerful arms grasped him by the shoulders and he was sent sprawling over the edge of the cliff into the sea. He floundered about in the water for a few minutes and looking up saw the big black man giving him the finger before turning around and walking up the hill towards the compound. Normally the two-mile swim back to the resort island would not have been a problem but he was in considerable pain every time he kicked out with his legs.

For twenty minutes he tried desperately to make some progress but he was in agony and didn’t know how long he could hold on. He was so exhausted he was beginning to swallow water and it looked as if he wasn’t going to make it.

A Welcome Face

There were a number of small pleasure boats some distance away but they just didn’t see him in the choppy water. However, just when he thought that all was lost a jet ski appeared on the scene and pulled alongside. Spluttering water he looked up and there was Isabelle.

She didn’t say anything, she just leaned over and helped him aboard. He grimaced with pain as he pulled himself onto the seat behind her,

“Thanks, you’ve saved my life,” he said, coughing up some of the seawater as he did so.
“This was not your day to die,” she said quite coolly and turning her back on him she put the jet ski in full throttle and off they sped over the choppy water, Johnnie wincing with pain on the crest of each and every wave.

No other words were exchanged until they rounded a promontory and there in a sheltered cove Black Beauty lay at anchor – what a beautiful sight she was. Isabelle struggled to get him up onto the boat and helped into a deckchair where she gently pulled off his boxers to review the damage.

“I’ll get you an icepack,” she said, “And if I were you I would erase any thoughts of a playful evening for a couple of days at least.”

When she returned with the icepack she applied it gently with her slender manicured fingers. It was then, in between wincing with pain and just a tad bit of ecstasy that he got around to asking her how on earth she knew where he was. Her answer confirmed his suspicions that she was indeed a 22-22 operative.

“HQ informed me that your locator had positioned you on Schober’s island and that someone had messed with your OpsPhone. I anchored here to await further instructions and thirty minutes ago they informed me that you were somewhere offshore – possibly without a boat.”

“So you are, shall we say, a member of the accounting fraternity.”

“I’m the eyes and ears in this part of the Indian Ocean,” she smiled, “And sometimes the enforcer.”

“What happened with that guy Rueben?” he asked.

“O he was just a minor player who decided he wanted to join the majors.”

“And where is he now.”

“Well – I suppose that because no Tom Whitcher could be located at any hotel in Nairobi and he was not a passenger on the plane from Paris – it looked as if his story was just a ploy to extract money from Willi’s organization. I imagine Abassi Abassi took a very dim view of that.”

When Johnnie suggested that they should try and recover his things from the resort she told him that was already done.

“It’s the first place I went,” she said. I have your clothes, the suitcase and this.”

She tossed a pair of panties which landed on his face. “I think they’re a bit small for you,” she smiled.

“They must have been left by the couple who occupied the cottage before me,” he grinned.
Isabelle looked after him for two days after which he was ready to blow Willi’s little operation into oblivion. “I think I should go back to the honeymoon cottage and draw Willi out,” he said, sipping on a beer. “He won’t use firearms in the resort because that would attract attention and might lead to the police making a visit to his island.”

“I don’t think Willi is going to leave the island – even with the prospect of kicking you in the balls again,” Isabelle responded.

“No but he’ll send Abassi Abassi and I have plans for him,” he paused thoughtfully, “The one problem I have is the daughter – I’d prefer not to kill her when the compound goes up in smoke.”
“You’re not allowed to be sentimental,” she said, “You know that.”

“I’m not being sentimental – she saved my life or I wouldn’t be able to complete this mission. I owe her one.”

“How do you plan to get into the compound anyway,” she asked, “they’ve got motion sensors on the dock and cameras everywhere they’ll obviously see you approaching and be ready to give you a rousing welcome.”

“There’s certainly more planning to do,” he said, “but look at this.” He went to the computer and tapped in his code. “Max has provided me with a map of the island as it used to be six or seven years ago. Some crazy religious cult occupied it then and most of the compound that’s there today was built by them. Willi has made some improvements but it’s essentially the same.”

Isabelle looked at the map with interest. “Is this a tunnel on the north side of the island?” She asked.

“Yeh – they were a secretive bunch – much like Willi,” he said, “they tried to cover up their comings and goings by sailing their boats right up that tunnel into a dock under the compound.” He turned to her with a serious look on his face, “If you could cover the front gate for me I could try and enter that tunnel and hopefully find some way of locating the nerve center and planting a little explosive here and there. But there is a snag,” he smiled grimly, “if I don’t make it out – you will either have to steal a boat or swim to shore.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she said, “I can find my way back.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, “Let’s do it tonight.”

As Isabelle sneaked into the honeymoon cottage under the cover of darkness Johnnie walked into the resort dining room and drew attention to himself by pretending to be a just a little inebriated. He bumped into a fat lady who was doing her best to squeeze by him in the doorway and apologized profusely when he momentarily pinned her against the doorpost. The manager quickly found him a table in a corner and got the staff to pay special attention to him to try and get him out of the place as quickly as possible.

On leaving the dining room he first went to the cottage occupied by Terri and luck was on his side. She had left a little chink in her curtains and he was able to see her and a young man cavorting on the bed together. He took her panties from his pocket, hung them on her doorknob, and proceeded to his own cottage to await Abassi Abassi.

Rest in Pieces

Isabelle was concealed in the closet near the door and Johnnie strategically positioned himself facing it. He sat there reading the paper for what seemed an interminable length of time and his closeted companion began to complain that she was getting cramp in her leg.

The moment came however when they heard the sound of an outboard motor and then it stopped. A few minutes later, not bothering to knock, Abassi Abassi burst through the door ready for action.

Johnnie quickly got up from his chair and picked it up to defend himself. His opponent simply shoved him up against the wall with it at the same time uttering threats about what he was going to do to him.

Isabelle, wincing with pain from her cramped leg, had some difficulty in opening the closet door and ended up falling out onto the floor. Abassi Abassi turned around like an enraged bull as she shot a tranquilizer dart into his hip.

It slowed him down but it didn’t bring him down. Still having the chair in his hand he took a swipe at Isabelle knocking the gun out of her hand and catching her a glancing blow that sent her sprawling across the floor. Johnnie grabbed another chair and crashed it on Abassi Abassi’s head and the big Ox fell on top of her.

Struggling to pull her clear he could see that her head was bleeding.

“That’s quite a gash you’ve got there,” he said.

“I’m OK,” she whispered, obviously shaken but determined not to let it interfere with the mission.

Johnnie brought his case out from under the bed, took out the first aid kit, and cleaned the wound. As he put a Band-Aid on her head Abassi Abassi started to groan. She picked up the gun and shot another dart into his backside. That seemed to settle him down. Johnnie then rolled him over and taking the pin out of a grenade he crushed it into the big man’s hand while Isabelle bound them tight together with duct tape. They also taped his feet and mouth for a little extra security.

Dragging him down his dingy and lifting him in was quite an effort but with a bit of teamwork, they managed it. When he was resting there comfortably they brought their own inflatable in and tied a tow rope to his. The pair slowly made their way to Schober’s island and a hundred yards or so from shore Johnnie got into the water untied the other boat and instructed Isabelle to take their dingy to the side while he gently pushed Abassi Abassi toward the dock.

When the sensors switch on the floodlights he gave one last push and then swam quietly to Isabelle who was drifting in the shelter of some overhanging trees. He climbed on board just as all hell broke out at the dock. Two armed guards, accompanied by two snarling dogs, came running down the stone steps that lead to the wharf and recognizing Abassi Abassi pulled him out of the boat.

Immediately they began to free him from his bonds, there was a loud explosion and then silence. They had reduced Willi’s capability considerably by taking out the three men and two dogs with just one grenade.

The compound gates opened momentarily and it seemed that Willi was there yelling out some instructions but it was difficult to tell in the dark. The gates then slammed shut and Johnnie turned to Isabelle and said, “This is it.”

She climbed ashore to keep the front gate and the dock covered as he started the motor on the boat and made his way around the island. When the tunnel came insight it was much larger than he had imagined and obviously made to take quite a large craft. Although he knew the lights would come on and cameras would detect him as he entered he had no other choice than to go in there full bore.

Once inside the tunnel, blinding lights were turned on and he came under fire from what he believed were two shooters. The inflatable was hit a couple of times but having multiple chambers it didn’t have much effect. However, he felt like a duck in a barrel and decided to toss a grenade in the general direction of the fire hoping that at least it would keep their heads down until he managed to shelter behind a large luxury cabin cruiser by the dock. It did.

He tied up to the ladder at the stern and then stealthily climbed up and poked his nose over the top. One of the shooters saw him but didn’t fire. It was if they couldn’t take the risk of damaging the boss’s boat. Instead, he put down his gun and brandishing an impressive looking knife he leaped onto the deck seemingly oblivious to the fact that his adversary had a superior weapon.

Johnnie, not bound in any way to protect Willi’s fancy customized craft, brought the man down with a single shot as he came charging toward him. It was like a scene from an Indiana Jones movie.

In the silence that followed, he could hear a faint groaning and he cautiously crept along the boat until the second shooter came into view. Obviously wounded from the grenade he lay on the dock unable to move. As Johnnie stood over him he closed his eyes as though he expected to be put out of his misery but he simply picked up the man’s gun and threw it into the water.

The entrance to the upstairs compound was locked. As it was made of rugged steel and the lock was not the kind you could pick with a bobby pin, the chance of gaining access was remote. Johnnie decided that the only way to get Willi was to get him so mad he would act irrationally and come charging out of that door. There seemed no better way to do that than to lob a grenade into his boat.

It made an awful mess, splinters of glass and wood were everywhere and it even sprung a leak and start to list heavily to one side. Johnnie waited a good ten minutes tucked behind a concrete buttress sure that Willi had seen his prize possession destroyed and would be seething with anger and hungry for revenge. He wasn’t sure whether Willi had secret weapons up his sleeve like the possibility that he could fill the tunnel with gas – but he didn’t.

Suddenly the door burst open but instead of Willi firing from the hip, it was a man and a woman, who looked more like office workers than mercenaries, that came out firing every which way with automatic weapons they could barely control.

Johnnie had no choice but to bring them down but as they presented little risk and might not be working there involuntarily he decided to shoot them both in the shoulder and use them to locate the nerve center. With startling accuracy, he disabled them, took their guns away, and ordered the petrified pair to take him to the control room.

They turned out to be Somalis but both spoke some German. Half sobbing they told him they were just worked as administrative assistants, which was what he suspected.

He explained to them that he fully intended to give them the chance to evacuate with any other low ranking workers but he had to find that control room first. Whether they really understood what was happening he wasn’t sure.

As they edged their way up the stairs he had to tell the woman to stop crying as it would give their position away, she nodded and bravely tried to contain herself but Willi was already aware of where they were on the stairs and at just the right moment he stepped out above them and open fire. Both the Somalis went down in a hail of bullets and Johnnie was hit in the left forearm.

Returning fire with a superior weapon made Willi take flight with Johnnie in pursuit. He passed several terrified men and women as he bounded along the corridor and he yelled that there was going to be an explosion and for them to make a break for it.

The chase ended when Willi managed to get into the control room and lock the door. It was a formidable structure made of steel and bulletproof glass but Johnnie took an explosive charge of Super Thermite from his backpack, waved it at Willi, and mouthed the word BOMB! He figured that the fat slob with bad breath would be thinking he was going a bit too far to pay him back for a kick in the balls – but maybe he had worked that he was not a short-sighted horny academic after all.

Whatever he was thinking he had gone very pale but then suddenly, as the charge was about to be clamped on the door, he began to grin as if he didn’t care anymore. He had good reason as a female voice from behind Johnnie chirped up, “I’ll take that Matthew.”

He turned to face Terri with a gun in one hand and the other extended to take the explosive charge.

“You might also take the gun out of your belt and drop it to the floor,” she said.

Johnnie complied and then heard the click of the control room door as Willi let himself out and began to gush over his daughter, praising her for her initiative and urging her to blow Johnnie’s brains out. She was in no hurry to rush the process and felt she should allow herself a little time to taunt her captive.

“When I thought you were an eccentric botanist Matthew.”

“Biologist,” he corrected her.

“Whatever – I felt sorry for you and I saved your life – but you don’t study Salamanders do you – you’re some kind of agent.”

“Probably CIA or MI6,” Willi snarled, looking as if he was ready to cough up some more phlegm.

“And you’re bent on destroying this organization and my father – the man who has been wonderfully kind and very generous to me,” she continued, and then with a little smile she said, “I’m afraid I just can’t let you do that.”

“Just kill him,” growled Willi, anxious to get it over with.

“No I’d like a little sport – I like to play that game daddy – you know the one we played when we wanted to get rid of that Nanny who was unkind to me in Kenya.”

Willi nodded his head in agreement with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

“If you can reach that door at the end of the corridor before I can count ten Mr. Garry,” she said, almost seductively, “You’re a free man – if you don’t I’ll simply shoot you in the back.” Without further explanation of the rules, she simply snapped, “Get ready – set – go.”

Johnnie started off like a bat out of hell. He could hear her counting and the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor as he ran. There was little chance that she would play by her own rules and he knew it. He figured that she would probably pull the trigger at seven or eight and so at the count of six he decided to make his move and threw himself on the floor. Terri fired a couple of short bursts and bullets were ricocheting off the walls as he pulled a small controller from his pocket and pressed the button that was set to detonate the explosive charge she holding in her left hand.

Of course, there was a massive explosion. Plaster and bricks were falling all over him as he struggled to his feet using his good arm to ease himself up. He didn’t look back, he didn’t have to – he knew that there would be little remaining of either of them.

Outside Isabelle was waiting for him amongst a dozen or so confused workers. The jubilant pair climbed into one of Willi’s boats and made for the Black Beauty.

Testing his Manhood

He didn’t want to go to a hospital because of questions being asked and so he let her dig the bullet out and she gave him “excellent” care until they got to Mayotte where he received further treatment from both the doctors and Isabelle.

He convalesced for a couple of days before leaving for Paris. She thought that perhaps he should test his balls to see if they were functioning. Insisting they did it in easy stages using some exotic oils she lubricated his dick and gave him a slow sensual handjob. When he came all over her dress she nodded her approval. After lunch, she smeared his dick with whipping cream and sucked it off until she got a mouth full. After supper, she stripped off, lay on the bed with her legs spread out, and invited him to fuck her. He didn’t do that right away as he was in the mood for foreplay. Johnnie got her to sit on his face for a good licking, he sucked her tits while he fingered her pussy, and then he pounded her mound and fucked her ass.

Isabelle declared that he was fit for duty and the next day she went to the airport to see him off. Once he’d checked his bag they just stood and looked at each other. She didn’t say anything but he could see a tear in her eye.

“You’re not allowed to be sentimental,” he reminded her.

“I’m not sentimental because you’re going, it’s just that I’ve been told we’ve been selected to do another mission together. I’m not sure I can take the strain.”

Laughing, she gave him a big kiss on the lips and took off toward the exit – throwing one last kiss before disappearing into the street. THE END

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PLEASE NOTE
The characters portrayed in these stories are fictional and any similarities with persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
You may not sell, license, sub-license, rent, transfer or distribute any part of this story or the photographs herein in any format, or claim ownership.
Copyright D C Vickers 2012 – 2020.

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