American Mom Ch. 22

"Well, we just can't have that." He responded, standing up and removing his tuxedo jacket before draping it across her chest and shoulders as she looked on in bewilderment.

'That's weird.' reflected Francine with a mystified look as Bullock sat back down. "Covering the girls up is the last thing I expected him to do. Stan is going to be so disappointed that I misread Avery." Her concerns turned out to be short lived.

"Here my dear, snuggle in." He smiled as he lifted the arm rest between them and wrapped his left arm around her back, his hand coming to rest on her left side, under the jacket. "I will keep you warm for that hubby of yours." He said as Francine turned somewhat and gently worked her upper back into the crook of his shoulder and chest.

'I bet I know where this is going.' She smiled, as her husband continued his acceptance speech.

"And I want to thank most of all my beautiful loving wife Francine. Not only has she been my partner for twenty years, she has proven to be the hit of the evening on the red carpet tonight." Thunderous applause from the men in the audience erupted. "THANK YOU CIA!" he finished.

As Stan made his way smiling to his seat he noticed Bullock was now coatless and that Francine was covered up and sitting close to his boss. "Everything ok?" he asked with concern as he settled in his seat. "You've covered your beautiful gown.

"She was just a bit cold Smith. Don't be concerned about it." Responded Bullock somewhat dismissively as he draped his arm up onto her shoulder while keeping it under the jacket.

"Everything is just fine Stan." Francine said sweetly before winking at her husband and settling back further into Bullocks shoulder.

"Just think, after all these years it turns out Stan Smith can be romantic." gushed Francine to both men. "You seduced the crap out of that spy."

"No biggie." He responded. "I just put hours of thought into who she is as a person. And what would make her truly happy. And then I gave it to her."

"Well." Francine purred. "That's my philosophy these days too. Understand what would make someone truly happy, and then give it to them in exchange for what I need. God, you CIA men lead such an exciting life. I bet I could be a hot ass sexy spy, seducing other spy's and taking their secrets. That would be so thrilling."

"Do you think you could handle that type of assignment Francine?" asked Bullock, suddenly attentive. "Because if you were, we are in desperate need of a female seductress spy. It is a very hands on position that requires a certain touch and appearance. We sent your husband out in drag on our last case, and let's just say it did not end pretty."

"Like I said Avery, I figure out what some else needs to be truly happy, and I give it to them." She smirked

With that comment, Francine moved tighter and higher against Bullock and grabbed his left hand draped over her shoulder under the jacket, and pulled it to her meaty tit. "Isn't this what men need?" she smiled coyly. "Isn't this what you expect from a seduction spy?"

As Stan looked into Francine's beautiful eyes, he could see she was motioning downwards with her eyes. What Stan saw made him smile. Under Bullocks jackets was a constant movement in the area of Francine's left tit.

Francine closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as Avery Bullock casually stroked her plump left breast over her dress. He had not even hesitated to see if she would provide any resistance, going right for her already hard nipple. After circling the taught nub several times, he was now pinching and teasing it with more intensity.

"Uhmmmm." She moaned softly in his ear. "Are you trying to get me horny Avery? Because it's working." She continued as she reached her right hand out and began rubbing his left thigh. "This isn't fair. You get to feel me, but I can't touch you." She craned her neck as she closed her eyes and began to kiss his neck softly.

"Who said you can't touch me?" He rebutted as he leaned forward. "Smith. Give me your coat."

"What?" Stan reacted.

"I said give me your damn jacket. My lap is getting cold and I already gave mine to your wife." Stan looked at the movement of the hand beneath the jacket covering Francine chest and quickly removed his own jacket.

"Here you go sir." He replied, handing the jacket to his boss, still not sure where this was going.

Bullock smoothed the black tux jacket over his lap and then reached over and grabbed Francine's right hand and brought it under the jacket. Without looking down at Francine, Bullock pulled her a bit closer, grabbing her right breast as movement began under the jacket on his lap.

Francine Smith looked down into Avery Bullock's lap as she moved her hands below the protective jacket over his hardening cock. Biting her lip as she rubbed his cock through his slacks she wondered how far he would allow her to go in such a public place. Then she remembered the nondisclosure form everyone but her had signed. The intensity of him mauling her breasts in such a public setting without fear of press exposure was almost enough to get her off.

The question of how far was soon answered when she noticed another movement under the jacket and heard the distinct sound of a zipper being worked. Soon a hand grabbed hers and placed it on the second largest cock she had ever felt, behind only her son Steve's eleven inch monster.

"Oh Avery." She cooed as she gazed in his eyes.

"Stroke that cock you tease." He hissed. "I must know what you would be willing do to pry away commie state secrets.

"Oh fuck." She moaned as she lifted the side of the jacket, watching intently as she ran her hand softly up his brutally hard schlong. "Whatever you say stud."

Stan and the other agents in the row and surrounding area watched in awe as the stunning blonde's face contorted in pleasure over the next few moments as the jacket covering her undulated from the attack of Avery Bullocks hands on her firm breasts.

All the while the motion under the jacket covering his lap increased as well, eventually reaching a crescendo of upward strokes in the tented area.

As Stan watched intently Francine began to rub her pussy through her satin dress.

"And winner of Best Fake Passport goes to..."

Francine began to struggle visibly with her dress. Her free hand would go from one side to the other, noticeably attempting to pull the material up her legs. "She must be trying to get her cunt exposed." Stan theorized. Quickly he grabbed the left side of the hem of her dress and began pulling up.

Francine returned to kissing Avery Bullock, and began stroking his cock with her left hand while her right hand pulled mightily on her dress. Between their efforts Stan and Francine soon had the tops of her thigh high stockings exposed, with the hem of her dress around her waist and under the tuxedo jacket that was sliding down her chest.

One of the official event photographers made his way to the front row, standing directly in front of the writhing blonde on the second row as she deliberately spread her knees wide.

*FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH*

"What say we see how far you will go for your country Francine, you wonderful tease." Bullock groaned "Let's see if you have the nerves it takes to take down..." He menacingly squinted his eyes and paused for effect as she stared trancelike into his eyes. "The FALCON!" he finished as he pulled his tuxedo jacket away, uncovering the beautiful blond, her big tits being pawed in her see through chiffon dress pulled up to her waist, her legs splayed wide for the camera.

Never flinching nor breaking her lip lock with the powerful Director, she allowed the photographer and everyone else watching, access to her shaved cunt, dripping in excitement, framed in her crotchless panties.

*FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH*

As the throng looked on she became even more excited as Stan reached over and pulled her left knee up and over his right knee, opening her wetness to her audience even more.

*FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH*

Stan remained composed enough to pull Francine's phone out and take his own photos as Bullock inserted two fingers in her twat, aggressively pumping them into Stan's wife as she rocked in her seat.

*FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH*

"Oh Gawd!" Francine called out while panting, unable to control herself any longer. Lifting her husband's arm rest up, she kneeled up in her seat, putting her feet in her husband's lap and her ass in his face, and quickly pulled the jacket from Bullocks lap, throwing it to the floor. "I'm going to give you exactly what you need to be truly happy right now." She hissed. "And then you need give me what will make me truly happy... Make me a Hot Ass Super-Secret Spy so I can get The Falcon."

With that ominous reply, Francine reached back and pulled Stan's face to her steaming pussy, before engulfing Billock's hard cock in her mouth in front of a thousand onlookers.

*FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH*

Groans emanated from all three participants as well as their audience.

"MMMMMMMMMM" Francine moaned in acknowledgment of the attention she was drawing as she nosily bobbed her mouth up and down the curvature of the Bureaucrats hard cock. Never touching his shaft with her hands, Francine deftly balanced herself with one hand on the seat between his legs and the other on the top of the seat back, her head bobbing rhythmically while looking into the cameras.

*FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH*

Meanwhile her husband roughly grabbed her meaty buttocks and thrust his face against her wet pussy.

*FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH*

"OH! You fucking nasty wench!" Bellowed Avery Bullock. "I'm going to blow!"

With that Francine Smith pulled her lips off his throbbing cock and began to stroke it towards her mouth, turning her head to stare directly into a production video camera that had joined the photographers and cell phones that were now focused on her.

*FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH*

As his cock began to blow hot ropes of salty cum into her mouth and on her face, Francine suddenly succumbed to the sucking and prodding Stan was performing on her engorged clitoris.

"HHHMMMMMM..." She moaned as she sucked once more on his spurting cock. "OH GAWD! CUM IN MY MOUTH YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" she screamed, pulling off before once more throwing her lips around the Deputy Director's erupting cock head.

The beautiful mother of two slowly came down from her intense sexual high. Her husband fell away from her wet pussy to watch his wife gently suck on his bosses still leaking cock like a baby sucking her thumb. Francine's eyes attempted to focus on the stage video display that was showing in cracks through the crowd standing in front of her.

The crowd opened in front of her with a thunderous applause, and there it was. Twenty five feet tall on the video screen was Francine Smith's beautiful face, covered in cum and staring contentedly into the camera while Avery Bullocks cock still impaled and throbbed in her mouth.

"Smith." Avery Bullock stated with a level of exhaustion on par with a marathon runner. "Go to the concession stand and get me some Gatorade. I'm afraid I left all my electrolytes with your wife."

"And winner...Hottest Sex Freak is... This Slut!" Beamed Nicki Minaj .

Website Development

The following afternoon found Francine Smith sitting in her living room, drinking her second Mikes Hard Lemonade in the past half hour and chewing hard on the end of an ink pen while she examined a to-do list on her writing pad.

"Vat are you vorking on Frazine?" inquired Klaus, propped up on the front rim of his water bowl.

"Yeah Franny. Whatch doin'?" asked Roger the Alien as he entered with a sandwich.

"Last night I managed to talk Avery into allowing me to become a CIA Hot Ass Super-Secret Spy. I even picked out a cool, double entendre spy name; 'The Beaver'."

"The Beaver? questioned Roger. "I thought you kept grass off the field?"

"It's what you call a vagina Roger. It's like a James Bond girl kinda name." Francine scowled.

"It's what you call the HAIR on a vagina Franny, not the actual vejayjay." He said smugly.

"What the fuck ever, asshole." Francine muttered as she again turned her attention to her note pad.

"By Avery, did you mean Bullock? Stan's boss?" asked Klaus.

"Yes. Avery." She deadpanned.

"Who else the fuck did you think a real person named Avery would be fish?" Roger laughed.

"Anyway, Stan just doesn't seem to have confidence I can pull it off." She bemoaned.

"Hot Ass Super-Secret Spy? What kind of assignments are they going to give you? Cause I can't see you on an assassination mission." Klaus injected.

"Unless it is a mission to kill everyone's appetite with your cooking." Replied Roger as he watched TV.

"You know, stuff more in my wheel house. Efforts that work to my talents. Responsibilities more in line with my title." She said with an air of importance while still staring at her pad. "Infiltration...recovery of hardware... Temptation and Persuasion. Stuff like that."

"Temptation and Persuasion?" Klaus questioned with a look of skepticism." Are you going to be seducing male spy's?"

"Fucking. It's pronounced Fucking Klaus." Roger injected.

"Males, females. Whatever it takes." She replied as she contemplated the note pad. "Avery has pretty much left it up to me to set up my own operation. He says it's more organic that way."

"So vhat hav you come up wifh zo far?" the fish asked, grabbing her note pad forcefully.

"Hey!" the housewife, soon to be an active spy cried out as she put her hands on her hips, clearly pissed.

"Zet up a muffin kiosk in the mall. Wait for The Falcon. Really?" Klaus began to scratch furiously with the ink pen at the note pad. "Idiotisch

"Hang out in The Falcon's local grocery store until we bump into each other." Furious scratching. "NEIN!" he screamed.

"Set up black web Spy chat room to engage The Falcon in Dialog. STUMM!" he yelled, before suddenly changing his facial expression to that of interest. "Wait...that's brilliant Francine."

"Yeah. That might work Francine." Injected Roger, as her turned his attention from the TV.

"Do you guys really think so?" she smiled, before looking despondent. "But I need a web page for The Falcon to find advertising that 'The Beaver' is available as a counter spy, and is open to solicitation and seduction from terrorists."

"I can make it." excitedly replied the gold fish. "I bleed HTML."

He quickly pulled his fishbowl to the laptop on the coffee table, opening it and typing furiously. "OK, lets set this baby up with a CSS on the back end. Tweak the GUI...enable Java script...register the site at Geocities.com...and Walla!"

As he flipped the laptop around for Francine and Roger to view, he grinned with pride.

"Oh Klaus. It's beautiful." she gushed.

The web page flashed stars on a deep blue background. In the center a banner of moving Flames proclaimed "Welcome to The Beaver's Hot Ass Super-Secret Spy Website."

"We just need one more thing to lure The Falcon inside the site people." Roger leered. "Bait."

"Bait?" she questioned. "Like a sweepstakes or something?"

"Seduction bait." Roger said ominously.

"We need photos on the index page that will lure The Falcon inside." Added Klaus.

"Don't act like you thought of the idea dumb ass." Roger said sternly as he flicked the fish out of his bowl with his finger. "You would have already added some photos if you had thought of it first."

"Index page?" Francine repeated cluelessly.

"Jezzuz woman. ZIS PAGE!" Klaus screamed as he thumped his fin on the laptop monitor while pulling himself back in his bowl. "You need to catch your viewers' attention immediately to draw zem inzide."

"Got it! Got it!" she repeated with annoyance. "So what do we need?"

"What we need are photos of YOU, Francine. The click bait is YOU my dear." Responded Roger.

"But I'm a Hot Ass Super-Secret Spy. Heavy emphasis, sir, on that one word... super-secret." She retorted like the brainless bimbo she could be at times. "I may plaster face all over the internet, but not next to the words 'Hot Ass Super-Secret Spy".

"Yes, yes." Roger replied dismissively. "Just go upstairs and put on something sexy for the photos. Klaus will mask your face in Photoshop before we launch the page." He finished as he waved her towards the stairs. "Just be sure to change into something that will compel The Falcon to enter your lair. Something that screams "FUCK ME". And for God's sake woman, please do something with that makeup and hair. We want glamour and smoldering sexuality here, not laundry day!"

"Punk ass alien..." Francine muttered as she climbed the stairs. "Like I need to be told I need to freshen my makeup and hair to look sexy for a photo shot. I'll show those two losers what smoldering sexuality is."

Twenty minutes later Roger and Klaus were putting the final touches on setting up Steve's cameras and lights around the family room.

"Is this perhaps something you two boy's had in mind for luring The Falcon into The Beaver's lair? I put a lot of thought into this ensemble."

Roger and Klaus both turned their heads towards the stair landing where Francine stood, dressed in a black twill trench coat, cinched tight at the waist and wearing a matching dark Fedora and sunglasses. In one hand she was carrying an attaché case. In the other she gripped a half-filled fifth of Jack Daniels whiskey and held a smoldering blunt between her fingers.

"What do you guys think? I just reek 'spy' don't I?" she smiled as she took a long swig of the whiskey and followed that with a pull from the big blunt she was now clinching in her mouth. "Gotta stay in character." She slurred.

"I don't know Franzine." Klaus responded. "Sure, you LOOK like a spy in that get up. But a Hot Ass Super-Secret Spy? I don't think so."

"Unquestionably Francine, you're showing a little bit of cleavage here." Roger conceded. "And those stripper shoes you are wearing are to die for." He said as he waved towards the four inch tall clear platform slip on heels on her feet. "But that's not going to lure anyone into your site.

"You two just make sure you keep those cameras on me, and don't get distracted. Something will catch your eyes in this session for the index page."

Both the alien and fish's jaws slowly dropped, their eyes opening fully as they watched the graceful movement of the blond MILF as she undid the belt on her trench coat and pulled the coat open. They both quickly fumbled to turn the cameras towards the staircase.

*FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH*

Francine Smith was slightly swaying from the effects of her afternoon of drinking. She leaned seductively with her right hand for balance on the bannister and let the coat fall from her shoulders into a puddle at her feet. With the big blunt burning between her full, painted lips, the big titted mother looked stunning. The cameras focused on the vision of Francine still wearing her dark hat and sunglasses in stark contrast to a pair of bright pink thigh high stockings with a meticulously patterned top band. The stockings led up to a matching garter belt with four straps. The front two straps and the garter belt framed her uncovered and shaved cunt.

"Wow Franny." Marveled Roger. "Putting the crown jewels on display front and center. Impressive looking...and impressively done."

Francine smiling with pride at the flattering comment, consciously pulled her shoulders back, knowing the motion would stick her magnificent 38DD breasts up for the cameras as they overflowed the delicate matching patterned pink shelf bra she wore.