A Tangled Web

Young and exceptionally bright, Sheila Hurtz had joined MI7 when she was just 19. She'd been with the Service and without a public identity for nearly a decade when she was assigned to spy on the young Russian prime minister at the time, Fillyp Dombrovski.

Often MI7 agents weren't given all the details of the reasoning behind their assignments, and such was the case this time; Hurtz knew her own job, but had no idea what Britain's interests were. It didn't trouble her.

Dombrovski had been vacationing on a tiny uncharted island in Fiji which the Russian government in cooperation with the local government sometimes unofficially used for retreats. Britain had no legal jurisdiction there, so Hurtz had been cautioned to be particularly subtle in her methods. But the job was easy: simply record the prime minister's conversations for the duration of his stay on the island, and report them to MI7 Headquarters via radio as they were received. A cake walk.

Smuggling herself onto the island with fake i.d. as a Russian waitress had been easy. Dombrovski was staying in one of a row of a dozen or so romantic grass bungalows on the beach. They were modest, yet immaculately maintained and even luxurious by some standards. Hurtz simply let the attached adjacent grass hut and stuffed a state-of-the-art micro-microphone into the grass wall facing Dombrovski's room. She trailed him at a distance whenever he left his hut and picked up and recorded his speech with a directional mike hidden in the cute blonde bun her hair was done up in atop her petite head. At night she would transcribe whatever the mics had recorded, and radio them directly in to MI7 Headquarters using a plastic micro-satellite telephone hidden in one of the stiletto heels she had packed in her suitcase. She'd then burn the transcript and wipe the microchips clean of any evidence.

Dombrovski made a few personal phone calls on the first day and spent the first night alone. During the course of the second day he picked up an American lover; an 18-year-old blonde student by the name of Tiffany Johnson. Tiffany had wound up on the island through an exchange program with a Russian university. The girl she was 'exchanging' with had been interning with a large Russian catering company. Hence, she was traveling/interning as a cocktail girl on a beautiful beach in Fiji, and sleeping with the Russian prime minister. Hurtz had seen stranger things before... on occasion.

When the pubs finally closed around two, Tiffany and the prime minister teetered back to his grass hut laughing arm in arm where Hurtz was already in position in her own hut with the curtains drawn, completely inconspicuous. She decided to catch a few hours of shut-eye while the mics did their work before waking up to transcribe and radio in whatever they'd picked up a little later.

'Wish I had me a big bloody cock,' Sheila muttered to herself as she settled into her comfortable bed for a few hours rest. 'Lucky bastards...' she yawned, her hand unconsciously massaging the fleshy moistening lips of her immaculately waxed-smooth cunt, and fell asleep.

Hurtz awoke at five and made coffee quietly in the nude. Next door, all was silent. She pulled on a clean, extremely skimpy white string thong but left her large breasts bare for comfort in the heat, retrieved the mic, sidled up to the hardwood desk and sat down, put on soundproof earphones and began transcribing what she heard into shorthand, pencil on paper, in the following way:

(Sounds of them (Fillyp Dombrovski and Tiffany Johnson- voices earlier confirmed) loudly (drunkenly) entering Dombrovski's hut, laughing and with shuffling steps.)

Dombrovski: 'Is you! You make me drink so mach!'

Johnson: 'Oh, no! No WAY, Fillyp! YOU made ME drink so much!'

(Laughter. Sounds of kissing and things crashing about. Sound of them falling onto the bed together and laughing, still kissing. Sounds of both of them becoming sexually aroused, i.e. moaning and increased breathing, and likely disrobing.)

Johnson: 'Well! What's that, Fillyp?? It's fucking big!!'

Fillyp: 'Is you; you make me so beeg, you are so beautiful, Teeffany!'

Tiffany: 'Ah-ha! Less sweet-talking Fillyp, and more sixty-nining!' (Some shuffling noises) '...Let me show you.'

(Intense moans of pleasure from both parties.)

...

Sheila Hurtz was trying to remain professional and just do her job, but was finding herself becoming quite aroused by this particular assignment. Still, she kept her hands off of her cunt for the time being and got back to work.

(Sounds of young miss Johnson sucking the prime minister's cock. And him apparently licking out her pussy.) She scratched that out and wrote, 'administering cunnilingus.' (More sexual moaning. Same noises continue for several minutes.)

'O, what can it hurt?!' Sheila thought, and went and fetched her pocket-rocket vibrator from her case. 'There- aaaaaah!' she sighed in her mind as she pressed the vibrating bullet beside her thong and onto her wet clit. 'I can still work just fine like this...' she thought smiling lustfully to herself.

Tiffany: 'You want me to sit on it now? Yeah? Yeah?'

Fillyp: 'Oh fuck yeah, girl. Sit on my fucking cock...'

(Moans of pleasure intensify greatly. The rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh audible as they begin to copulate.)

Tiffany: 'Oh yeah, fuck my cunt you big stud! Oh! I'm so wet! Oh yeah!' (Several minutes pass similarly; sex sounds/dirty sex-talk continues.) 'Fuck me from behind...'

(Some shuffling sounds, then sex recommences, more vigorous than before.)

Tiffany: (Wails with pleasure. Much rapid slapping of wet flesh on flesh.) 'Ooooh! Aaaaah!...'

Fillyp: 'I vant to fuck your ass...'

Tiffany: (No hesitation whatsoever) 'Do it! Fuck my tight fucking asshole! Just go slow at first...'

Fillyp: 'Oh fuck, baby... I cannot believe these!'

(Tiffany moans louder than ever, followed by the prime minister also moaning loudly. Slight pause. Then the sound of farting as the prime minister's cock evidently displaces air pockets up Tiffany's asshole. Moaning. Farting. Flesh slapping flesh. Bed creaking wildly.)

...

'Holy fucking balls!!' Sheila whispered to herself breathily, horny as all fuck by then. Her clit was completely engorged; she'd just cum! And her pussy was utterly soaked, along with her thong and the chair she'd been sitting in. The little vibrator just wasn't gonna cut it at this point. She looked around the room frantically, and quickly raced to retrieve an aerosol bottle of hairspray and a bottle of shampoo from her case and the bathroom respectively. She slathered them in the baby oil she kept for her skin, peeled her pussy-juice soaked thong down over her shapely firm ass, down her long slender legs and off over her tiny feet, sat back down on the chair, spread her legs wide open, shoved the four-inches-in-diameter oiled-up shampoo bottle about twelve inches up her cunt, and the two-inches-in-diameter oiled hairspray bottle about the same depth (a foot) up her asshole, put the earphones back on and continued to transcribe what she heard, nearing an almost unbearable orgasmic ecstasy.

(The prime minister and the American girl moan and fuck wildly. Indescribably beautiful sounds of wet flesh rapidly slapping together, moans of ecstasy, Fillyp's cock obviously drilling Tiffany's tightest fuck-hole deep, up to his sweaty balls!) Sheila wrote. She reached down with her left hand and jerked her big makeshift dildoes in and out of her nearly cumming, ridiculously tightly stretched holes, as she wrote the transcript for MI7 with her right.

(The stank of pussy and ass certainly heavy in the air as he fucks her hard up the fucking arse!)

Tiffany: (Literally wailing) 'I'm fucking cumming!!!'

Fillyp: 'O Bozhe!!' she transcribed in English-character Russian, 'I cum too!'

Sheila then came so violently she nearly fell off the chair, her ass spasmed wildly round its tight invader, her cunt likewise round its, and gushed madly all over the chair and onto the floor. She had to bite her finger to keep from wailing herself and waking everybody up. Her whole torso heaved repeatedly as wave after wave of orgasm ripped through her helpless petite frame, her eyes seeing sunspots she was cumming so damn hard, and she pissed all over herself.

After several minutes she collected her quivering self, and weakly continued her duty, the bottles still up her holes:

Tiffany: 'Cum in my mouth, lover!!! I wanna swallow your fucking cum!!'

(The sound of a fart; presumably Fillyp's cock exiting Tiffany's stretched-out asshole, and some shuffling sounds.)

Tiffany: (Moaning, as she were sticking her tongue out of her mouth) 'Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!'

Fillyp: (Groaning) 'Ooh! Fack! Suck my cock! Yes, suck it all down! Oh, shit baby! I cum! Oh, I cum I cum I cum!' (The sounds of Tiffany's mouth certainly wrapped around and sucking Fillyp's ejaculating penis...)

(Slight pause. Much heavy breathing. Followed by much sighing, some shuffling, kissing and giggling noises.)

Tiffany: 'I'm sorry to have to do this, Fillyp.'

Fillyp: 'W-What are you doing!? What's this all about?? You used me!!'

Sheila, slightly shocked, continued to transcribe the recording.

Tiffany: 'Sometimes a bitch has to get it where she can in this line of work, doesn't she? Please: don't tell me you'd rather I hadn't!'

Fillyp: 'N-No!!'

(Muffled pop, as in a gunshot with a silencer. Loud thud, as if a body had just fallen to the floor.)

Tiffany: (Nearly inaudible brief radio static preceding her speech) 'FBI Headquarters? This is agent 9, aka Tiffany Johnson. Mission accomplished; I repeat: mission accomplished.'

(Some more barely audible radio static, as in a remote transceiver. Quiet sounds. Door opening and closing.)

'Huh.' Sheila said quietly to herself. She'd seen stranger things before.

...

She then proceeded to gently extricate her improvised dildoes from up her still super-sensitized-from-having-just-cum-super-fucking-hard holes and clean things up. She took her pencil and crossed out all unnecessary adjectives and so on in her transcript before radioing it in to MI7 headquarters.

...

Next door unbeknownst to Hurtz, Sergei Asimov, a KGB agent, had just cum all over himself whilst peering into his computer screen which showed the streaming video from the hidden mic and cam he'd placed above Sheila's desk the previous afternoon. He'd been under orders to keep her under surveillance at all times.

What a tangled web we- oh fuck it. : P