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"We need to have a talk later fish." She glared before returning to the screen chat.
The_Beaver: The tanning photo would look much better today. I recently shaved all that brush away.
The_Falcon_Terrorist: how exciting my dear. We simply must get together to discuss working together on a project or two.
The_Beaver: What do you have in mind? It seems that a lot of men want to "work" with me lately after seeing my new webpage.
The_Falcon_Terrorist: Do these men all have an eleven inch cock my dear? I would think that should move me up the que?
"Jesus H. Christ! Eleven fucking inches!" Francine whimpered as she bit her lip.
The_Beaver: It might. You have my photos. Let's see some proof you are who you say you are. Let's see a photo of your eleven inches laid on today's newspaper or next to a TV screen with todays date showing.
A few seconds later an image popped in the screen. Laid on today's Wall Street Journal was a massive cock with a slight left hand lean.
The_Beaver: When can we meet?
The_Falcon_Terrorist: Gold Nugget in Atlantic City, midnight tomorrow. I will have a small flower on my lapel so you will know how to find me. Wear something sexy and scandalous. Make sure it comes off with ease.
The_Beaver: Oh God... I mean...sure thing. I will be wearing a cute purple dress.
Francine signed off with an emoji of a female smiley face with tongue sticking out while jacking a cock off onto her face.
Operation Beaver Goes Down
At eleven forty five Francine Smith was tooling down the Atlantic City Expressway in a bright yellow Ferrari convertible. Deputy Director Bullock had immediately agreed to fund Francine's mission to take down The Falcon.
"I am just blown away at the toys you guys are given for missions." she spoke to her husband Stan on her cell phone. "I mean a freaking Ferrari?" she laughed as she passed 110 miles per hour.
"I am telling you Francine, you are not going to fit into the crowd at the casino like you think you are." Stan replied.
"Sweetie I'm going to look fabulous tonight, no matter how hot everyone looks. I'm looking sexy and I'm on a mission." She bragged. "So where are we with the room prep Stan?"
"Complete. We determined the block of rooms that The Falcon would be assigned to when he checked in and they were all wired up." Stan reported "Microphones...Cameras...the whole package."
"But what about my backup?" She asked with concern.
"Got it covered." He said matter-of-factly. "We built false walls in each closet in those rooms. As soon as I know exactly which room he has been given I will go to the room and go into the hidden space. I can control the cameras with my handheld monitor. We don't want him finding a weapon or microphone on you, which means you can't take the shot. When the moment is right I will slip from the closet and shot The Falcon in the head. So whatever you do, stay in character and work the mission no matter what he does or says."
"Will do Stan." She said with relief "I'm pulling up to the casino now. Wish me luck!"
Francine pulled the powerful vehicle up to the valet parking attendant's station of The Gold Nugget with a roar as a young attendant ran to the driver's side and opened the door.
"Can you give me a hand Sweetie?" Francine asked, holding her left hand out.
The attendant put his hand out to assist, but then just stood there, motionless.
"I really need you to help pull me out of this low sitting car." She smiled.
The young man tried to regain his composure as he slowly pulled the beautiful blond from her car, even as he felt his dick becoming uncontrollably stiff.
Francine stood and looked around at the flashing lights of the Gold Nugget signage as the crew of valet attendants gathered around her. She was dressed in the simple purple tube gown she had bought from Linda Memari at Fredericks of Hollywood a few days ago. The dress performed as Linda had promised, hugging Francine's big 38DD tits as if its life depended on it. The stretchy material contoured to every bump of her areola and nipples. Because the top had stretched so much to accommodate her large boobs, the darkness of her areola showed through the strained material, with a tiny bit of each poking erotically over the low riding top of the dress.
As she looked around, her big boobs rocked gently in her tight dress as the purple garment hugged every curve of her body. Slits on each side of the dress terminated at a point at the top of her hips. Between the slits and her four inch matching purple platform heels, Francine's legs seemed even longer than normal.
"Take good care of it boys." She called out as she stepped away towards the entrance, with each boy's eyes burning into her scrumptious ass swaying from side to side.
She entered the casino with confidence, coming to a stop with her chest held out and both hands on her hips, smiling assertively. But quickly the smile dropped as she looked around the smoke filled main room, dingy from years of soot, and filled with people that looked like they belonged in a soup line.
Out of shape men wearing camo trucker hats smoked while pulling the slot machine arms. A mid 30's guy with a day's growth of beard was slumped drunkenly against a rail on the two stairs leading to the main floor. Several games had caution tape wrapped around them.
A man breathing with the aid of an oxygen tank and wearing a green Tweety Bird tank top and gray shorts rode an electric Rascal scooter up to her. "I told you Francine. You are WAY over dressed for Atlantic City." It was Stan Smith in disguise. "Now let's get The Falcon."
"Sexy spy fun." Francine rubbed her hands together and smiled excitedly.
"No." injected Stan. "Life and death work. And there's our man." Stan discreetly pointed towards the bar.
Standing at the bar was a plain looking man with beady eyes dressed in a business suit with a tiny rose in the lapel . No big muscles. No ruggedly handsome face. He looked like any nondescript CPA. "That's The Falcon?" Francine asked with disappointment before composing herself. "You're a professional now Francine. You have a job to do." She said to herself as she started walking towards the bar.
"Wait." Stan reached out and grabbed her forearm. "There has been a pretty big kink thrown into our plan."
"What?" Francine asked.
"You will see soon enough. Just be calm and deal with it. I will have your back in the room." He said as he ominously backed away into the shadows of the machines. *Beep* *BEEP* *BEEP*
Francine confidently walked over to the where The Falcon was standing with a drink.
"I believe we have business to discuss Mr. Falcon." She leaned in closer. "I'm The Beaver."
"So you are my Dear." He smiled, leaning in and giving her a light kiss on the cheek. "Even more dazzling without the black bar." He laughed lightly.
"Without the who?" asked Francine with a puzzled look.
"The black bar over your eyes." He attempted to remind the sometimes dizzy headed hot blond. "In the pictures...from your web site."
"OH! Yes, yes. Well thank you sir." She laughed
"May I order you a libation my dear?" The Falcon asked, motioning for the bartender. "I believe Long Island Iced Tea is your drink of choice, as listed on your profile page?" He smiled.
"Well aren't you the attentive one." She smiled. Moments later she was downing a tall glass to calm her nerves.
"A little thirsty my dear?" The Falcon smirked. "Bar keep. One more LIT please." He called out as he wrapped his left arm around Francine's shoulder and brought her closer. "You have such a delightful aroma my dear."
"But I'm not wearing any perfume." Francine said, taken off guard.
"I know darling." The Falcon said softly. "Yours is a natural pheromone that just screams "I want to be fucked hard!"
"OH my God. You really are a smooth talker." She smiled and shivered slightly as she turned up her second drink.
"So...where were we Miss Beaver?" He asked with a look of concentration look on his face. "Ah yes, joining forces.
"Shall we adjourn to a room upstairs and ponder our options?" grinned Francine.
"You expect me to go upstairs with a stranger? HA! HA! HA! HA!" he laughed in his thick European accent. "I am more careful than that. Before I go with you I must know, is the inspection in the elevator up to date?"
"Seriously?" she asked, perplexed.
Fifteen minutes later Francine and The Falcon exited the stairs on the ninth floor, panting from exertion.
"Sorry to make it a whole big thing." Wheezed The Falcon to the equally out of breath Francine. "But I just don't trust elevators when the sign says 'certificate on file at front desk'."
Francine took The Falcons hand as he led her into the darkness of room 9015, lit only by the ambient light from outside. She walked across the room and gazed through the large floor to ceiling window overlooking a garden below. Light glowed around the curtains of the rooms running parallel on the other side of the garden. Through the window of one room with an open curtain, Francine could plainly see a guy watching a porno on the TV, while he gently beat his tiny cock. She pulled the curtains shut.
"Well. Here we are...all alone in your room." She smiled seductively, sticking her chest out and putting a hand on her side.
The Falcon swiftly pulled a side arm from his jacket and held it to Francie's forehead "OH GOD!" she cried out.
"Well shit." Stan whispered in disgust from his hiding spot as he watched the action in the room on the video monitor.
"No worries my dear Beaver." The Falcon smiled deviously. "I am sure this will prove to be merely a precaution. I need to make sure you are not wearing a wire or any weapons." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket with his free hand. "Come and let yourself into the room." he said firmly to the person on the other end of the conversation. "I have her covered."
'Stay calm Francine. Stay calm.' thought Stan to himself from the confines of his hidden closet panel. While he watched the action on his portable video monitor he gripped his service revolver in his right hand, ready to spring into action.
"Who is that you called?" trembled Francine, trying to regain her composure. She was amazed to find that the heavy breathing and rapid pulse she was feeling felt similar to a sexual high.
"Just a trusted associate." He sneered.
Francine was startled to be partially blinded by the bright light from the hallway as the door to the room opened and then closed. "Put the lights on G." The Falcon called out. "I need you to do a thorough search of this fine beauty. We don't want any weapons of wires in here as we discuss business."
Bright light filled the room. The Falcone stood arm's length away, staring deeply into Francine's eyes. "Let's get started already G." He ordered. Francine looked past The Falcons shoulder. She stood perfectly still and stared ahead with her hands still up, fighting every instinct in her body that said to do the exact opposite.
"Gwen?" Stan whispered under his breath. 'What the fuck is she doing here?' he thought as the image of his busty Asian sister in law filled his monitor. 'oh, that's right...I forgot...she's a petty crook. Makes perfect sense she knows this guy.'
"Come on G. We don't have all night." barked The Falcon. "You know the routine."
Gwen stood for a second taking in the unexpected view in front of her. Her boss, The Falcon was holding a gun to the forehead of her adopted sister. Her adopted sister...the housewife. Something wasn't right, but she knew she would have to be extremely careful for her and Francine to make it out of this room tonight alive.
"OK Falcon. I've got her." Replied Gwyn, giving her sister a 'what the fuck you doing' look as she grabbed her left arm and moved her towards the curtains. The Falcon sat on the couch by the window.
"Open it." He instructed Gwen, who complied and pulled open the curtains covering the floor to ceiling window. She then grabbed Francine's shoulders and turned her around to face the window. Francine was once more looking into the room of the guy jacking off to the porn on his TV.
"Who is this bitch?" spit out Gwen roughly as Francine took in her sister's attire. Gwen was wearing a short black skirt with a white silk blouse unbuttoned to show a spectacular amount of cleavage. A long gold chain hung seductively nestled between her 40E breasts.
"This, my dear is The Beaver." He replied. "She has recently advertised herself as a Hot Ass Super-Secret Spy. I may work with her. But that is all dependent on how this all goes tonight. Now check her. Oh, and Miss Beaver. Please remember I have my fire arm trained on you. "
"Just go along if you know what's good for you sweetie." Gwen said in a tough voice, but her face pleading to her sister to go along for both of their wellbeing. "Hands up high, palms against the window." She instructed as she pushed Francine against the glass with force.
"Where do you want me to start Falcon?" Gwen asked, looking over her shoulder.
"Did you have a stroke G?" He asked with annoyance. "You know the damn routine; you've done it enough times with me. Hair, head and so on until you finish. Get to it."
Francine stood leaning against the plate glass window, breathing deeply as her sister walked up and placed her hand on Francine's left shoulder.
"Spread 'em Bitch." Gwen hissed, hooking Francine's left foot with her right foot and sweeping it outside of her shoulder, and then doing the same with her right foot. Francine's platform shoes were now so far apart that it dropped her hands six inches down the glass window with a screech. "And don't get any ideas. Keep those hands on the window until I tell you to move them."
"Get her Gwen." Smiled a whispering Stan Smith, his hand beginning to rub his crotch.
Francine watched her sister through the reflection in the window as she slowly circled behind her.
"Look at those magnificently well-toned thighs G." The Falcon noted, taking in the image as Francine stood leaning over, her legs spread wide beyond the confines of her dress thanks to the generous slits on both sides of her skirt. "You must work out religiously my dear."
"Just a little Yoga every morning and spin classes three days a week." She smiled over her shoulder.
"The spin class really shows." Said The Falcon. "Your ass is even more impressive than your legs my beauty."
Francine faced the window and smiled with great pride. It did not go unnoticed by Gwen. 'She is really flattered by that load of shit.' She thought as she began running her fingers through her sisters golden mane. "Let see what you have in your hair you little fuck toy."
She stepped under Francine's arm and turned to face her. As she carefully ran her fingers through her sister's hair from the front back, she whispered softly. "What the fuck are you doing here Francine? This guy will kill you. He does it every day. I don't think he intends to kill you tonight, but someday he will. Just make sure you don't fight anything we do to you tonight Sweetie."
"All clear in her hair and ears Falcon. Mouth check now." With that Gwen grabbed both sides of her sister's face and began to kiss her passionately. Francine closed her eyes and began to mirror her sister's actions. They began to alternate wrestling their tongues with soft pecks to each other's puckered lips.
"Uhhhmmmm. She's a great kisser." Francine called out to The Falcon as she actively wrestled tongues with her sister.
"Yes she is Beaver. Yes she is." Replied The Falcon.
Stan sat opened mouth as he watched his wife and her sister making out. His wife's hands being out of bounds on the window made the scene all the hotter.
"All clear with her mouth boss." Said Gwen as she walked back around to her rear. As Gwen cleared the window Francine discovered she now had a small audience watching the show. A man and woman in the apartment across the garden and up one floor were on their balcony, leaning on the rail in rapt attention to the scene unfolding before them.
Two apartments over were three boys that looked to be in their late teens. One was pointing towards the window while another had his phone pointed towards Francine.
And of course, Mr. Tiny penis had taken notice as well.
"Let's check these legs out." said Gwen." She could have a knife in these heels." She bent down on her knees and lifted Francine's left foot, gently removing her shoe and shaking it before setting it back on her foot and placing her foot a little further out from center than it was before. She then followed with the same procedure on the other foot.
Standing back up, Gwen began patting down Francine's legs. Beginning at her left ankle, she rubbed up with her left hand on the outer side of Francine's leg and the right one on the inside. As she worked her way up, the purple dress gapped open further at her hip, exposing the edge of her left ass check as Gwen's hands traveled as high as Francine's mid-thigh before dropping back to her ankle while rubbing.
"That felt really good." Cooed Francine.
"It did, didn't it?" agreed Gwen.
Meanwhile Stan was pulling his cock swiftly from the safety of his concealed lair in the closet.
"Don't forget the other leg." Smiled The Falcon, still training his gun at Francine's head.
Moving to her right, Gwen began rubbing up The Beaver's powerful right leg from ankle to mid-thigh.
"Continue G." Directed The Falcon.
As Gwen removed her hands from her sister's thigh, Francine's purple dress dropped back in place, hanging off her firm ass and rocking loosely between her legs. Gwen stood for just a second, placing her left hand on Francine's firm backside . "You've got a spectacular ass Miss Beaver."
"Thank you G." Francine replied over her shoulder, her breathing becoming more labored as she gently rocked her ass in her sister's hand.
Gwen leaned over below her sister's ass and grabbed the hem of Francine's sexy purple dress. She began to meticulously fold it over several times until it was level with the top edge of the slits on her dress. Francine's breathing became even more labored as Gwen then pushed the folded rear of the dress up and under itself.
"Very, very nice!" uttered The Falcon with a huge smile as he admired Francine Smith's toned ass, bared for his admiration. "And where are your panties my dear Miss Beaver?"
"I didn't want anything to get in the way of that big cock of yours Falcon." Francine purred as she looked over her shoulder.
From his hiding spot Stan Smith fought with all his might to not scream in ecstasy as he pumped a massive load of cum watching his wife be rubbed by her sister.
The power of Francine's legs was evident as she stood on her tall heels while gripping the window. Every muscle in her legs rippled. "You can probably reach the rest of her thigh now G." Directed the European spy.
Gwen stood to Francine's right side and began rubbing both hands up the inside of Francine's powerful right thigh from her knee upward. As her hand got closer to her sisters pussy Gwen could feel the heat emanating from her excitement. Francine visibly shook with excitement as she suddenly felt her sister's left index finger slide across her throbbing clit several times before being withdrawn.
Gwen walked to the other side of her sister. Before running her hands up her left thigh Gwen brought her visibly wet index finger to her mouth and licked it. "Uhmmm. Tasty." She smiled.
Reaching over once more, Gwen brought both of her rubbing hands up the inside of Francine's thigh. The window began to shudder in the night darkness, transferring the energy from Francine's uncontrollable excited trembling, through her hands and onto the big window pane.
