Femme Fatale

Secret Agent Sledge Riprock walked into his boss's office, his broad shoulders barely fitting through the doorframe. The Chief nodded toward a chair. Sledge sat, his sculpted glutes sliding easily inside the fine wool of his expertly tailored Savile Row suit.

The Chief took his pipe out of his mouth and looked levelly at Riprock. "Sledge, I've got a new assignment for you. It's very dangerous."

"That's my favorite kind, Chief," said Sledge, his lantern jaw jutting out over the desk.

The Chief tossed a dossier in front of Sledge. "Your assignment is a very lethal Russian assassin. We need her neutralized. She has killed or otherwise eliminated seven of our top agents. Her primary weapon is sex."

Sledge leafed through the folder. The first item was a glossy black and white photo of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her name was stamped across the top. He knew her well.

"Colonel Tatiana Igetzemov!" exclaimed Sledge. "She was a top assassin for the KGB, and is now the deadliest agent in the Russian secret service. I've been wanting to get a crack at her for years. When do I start?"

"Immediately," said the Chief, tossing a plane ticket on the desk in front of Sledge. "Do you have a plan?"

"Yes," said Sledge, smoothing his lapels and tucking the ticket into an inside pocket. "I will allow her to capture me. Then I'll turn the full power of my manly charms upon her. I know exactly how to turn evil female agents into blubbering piles of goo." He glanced down at his crotch. "One ride on my muscle of love and she'll be eating out of my hand and begging to mend her evil ways. She'll be working for us within the week."

"Well, be careful," said the Chief. "She is more dangerous than any other target I've ever sent you against. She can kill with a smile. She can wound with her eyes. She can ruin your faith with her casual lies."

Sledge rolled his eyes. "Thanks. Now that song will be running through my head all day."

**************

Secret Agent Sledge Riprock stepped in through the door of the Golden Tulip Restaurant in downtown Casablanca, Morocco. All eyes turned to stare at him. He was radiant in his crisp white tuxedo, with his broad shoulders, trim waist, taut buttocks, lantern jaw, and slicked back hair. The maître d'hôtel came running up to him, obsequiously bowing and wringing his hands.

"Does Monsieur have a reservation?" he asked, groveling.

"Certainly," said Sledge, sliding a 100 Dirham note into the host's breast pocket. "The name is Riprock. Sledge Riprock."

"This way, Monsieur Riprock," said the maître d', bowing and scraping, and leading our hero to a secluded table in an alcove. Sledge seated himself, careful not to ruin the crease in the trousers of his Armani tux.

Moments later, a swarthy waiter placed an ice-cold up glass on the table, ice crystals still swirling in the gin. "Wonderful to see you back in Casablanca, Monsieur Riprock," he said with a bow.

"Thank you, Hadji," said Sledge, taking a sip of the martini. Ah, they remembered, he thought, just the way I like them. His hand reached for the small dish of dates on the table in front of him.

As Sledge munched dates and studied the menu, a shadow suddenly fell across his table. He looked up, and found himself staring into a dark, sensuous face with full glowing eyes, moist luscious lips, and coal-black hair. The face of his quarry, of course.

"Haff you been vaiting long, darling?" asked the sultry beauty, in a thick Russian accent.

"Not at all, my little dumpling," said Sledge, playing along and half rising from his chair. "Please..." He indicated the other chair at the table.

The sensuous vamp snapped her fingers at Hadji, who bowed and nodded, then scurried away. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent Riprock," she said.

"You too, Colonel Igetzemov," said Sledge. "I've been tracking you for a long time."

"Yes, I know," she said. "You haff been most determined. I felt it time we finally settle things, once and for all."

Hadji returned, and placed a chilled glass of vodka in front of the Colonel. He also set down several small platters of food, including a plate of Baba Ghanoush, a dish of Hünkar Beğendi, and a bowl of Kokoreç, before bowing and disappearing once more.

Sledge helped himself to a few of the delicacies. "How do you suggest that we 'settle things,' Colonel?" he asked. "Do you wish to surrender to me now?"

The Russian raised her glass to her mouth, and pressed it erotically to her plump, sensuous lips. "Nyet, not at all," cooed the Russian, swallowing a mouthful of vodka. "I propose that I take care of you the same vay that I haff taken care of the last seven of your countrymen. I vill fuck you to death."

"Very interesting," said Sledge. "But suppose that I fuck you to death first?"

Colonel Igetzemov laughed; a small snorting sound. "Not very likely, my dear Agent Riprock. I eat men like you for breakfast. Providing that they survive until breakfast, that is."

Sledge suddenly felt queasy. He tried to stand, failed, and sat back down. "What the...," he said, as the room began to spin.

"Poisoned Kokoreç," said the Colonel, as she drained her glass of vodka. Then Sledge felt the floor slam upward to meet his face.

*******************

Sledge Riprock awoke with a start. He was instantly alert, and took in his surroundings with darting eyes. He was still in his tux, seated in a comfortable chair, in a softly lit room. To his surprise, he was unbound. He glanced around. The room also contained a huge bed, a nightstand on each side of the bed, and one other chair. In the chair was Colonel Igetzemov. She was dressed in a black leather catsuit.

Sledge rose carefully to his feet. So did the Colonel. She looked at him through her dark, sparkling eyes. "Well, Agent Riprock. Are you ready to be fucked to death?"

"Hit me with your best shot, Tovarishch," said Sledge. "You are about to meet your match."

Agent Igetzemov reached to her throat, and pulled down the zipper of her outfit from her neck to her navel. She shrugged her shoulders, and the catsuit fell away from her body, draping itself on the floor in a smooth black puddle. She stood there naked in all her glory.

Sledge loosened the bowtie of his tux and flung it across the room. He shrugged out of his jacket. He flexed his pecs and his shirt found itself in tatters on the floor. He yanked the belt from his waist in one swift motion, and kicked his Florsheims across the room. One gyration of his hips and his trousers and boxers joined his other garments on the carpet.

The two super-spies regarded each other, naked, across the room.

Colonel Igetzemov saw a fine specimen of a man; broad shoulders, rippling pecs, sculpted abs, flat hips, legs like tree trunks. And a cock as long and hard as a pipe-bomb, with a head the size of a Granny Smith apple.

Agent Riprock saw a woman as lithe and sensuous as a panther, and as dangerous as a hydrogen bomb with a short fuse. He looked her up and down, from head to toe. Her hair, jet black and full, framed her sensuous face like a satanic halo. Her neck, long and sinewy, looked as powerful as an anaconda. Her shoulders were milky white and rounded, but muscled and strong. Her breasts hung on her chest like two ripe cantaloupes, with just the perfect amount of sag. Her nipples pointed straight forward, as stiff and brown as two wine corks.

Her hands were on her hips, her arms slim but muscular. Her fingers were long and sensuous, with nails painted the color of fresh blood. Her stomach was flat and ripped, smooth and taut below her perfectly formed ribcage. Her hips were broad and round. Her pubic hair was trimmed into a tidy patch, as neat and triangular as Lenin's beard. Her legs were long and lithe and creamy, her quads rippling in barely restrained anticipation. She was poised on the balls of her two perfectly formed feet, well arched and smooth, with perfectly shaped toes and nails that matched her fingers.

After this tour of her body, Sledge returned his gaze to her face. It was grim and determined. They both knew that only one of them would leave this room alive.

Sledge broke the silence. "Exactly how does one die, Colonel, when one finds oneself fucked to death?"

"It depends," said the Russian femme fatale. "Sometimes they die of heart failure. Other times, they suffocate. In extreme cases, they succumb when their internal organs are ejaculated out through their urethra. I dare say in your case, it will be a combination of all of these effects."

"Very interesting," said Sledge. "In my experience, I have rarely fucked a woman literally to death. It would be a waste of quality pussy, in my opinion. Normally, one orgasm from me is all that it takes to make them renounce their wicked ways, embrace charity and virtue, and pledge to me their undying love in the service of goodness and niceness." He arched his eyebrows twice in her directions, and blew her a kiss.

"Well, you can forget about that derr-mo this time, Agent Riprock." said the Colonel. "But I'll grant you the first move. As they say in the decadent West, bring it on!"

Sledge Riprock stepped forward, and reached for the Colonel. He grabbed her by opposite shoulder and hip, and tossed her lightly to the bed. She landed on her back. He leapt onto the mattress, between her legs, and spread her knees apart. Kneeling between her thighs, he guided his gigantic cock to her well-trimmed pussy. Her lips were already spread, glistening with the womanly dew of excitement. He pressed his hips forward, and placed his gigantic cockhead against her moist lips. Two thrusts of his hips and he was in.

The Colonel moaned lightly in her throat as Sledge pressed his advantage. In and out he stabbed his massive manhood, sliding lewdly in and out of her well-oiled pussy. He looked down, and watched as her slick brown outer lips alternately slid inward and outward along with his thrusting, stabbing schlong. He glanced up at her face, to see her half-lidded eyes and panting mouth, as she enjoyed every violent thrust of his relentless fucking.

As the Russian agent became more and more aroused, her clit swelled. When it popped free of its hood, Sledge moistened his thumb in his mouth, and then pressed it to the tumescent bud. He swirled and stroked his stiff digit against her love button, in time with his thrusting and stabbing into her mighty vagina with his rigid cock.

Sweat broke out on Colonel Igetzemov's forehead. This is it, thought Sledge. In mere moments she will be mine. His hips continued their relentless thrusting, vibrating like a paint mixer in a hardware store. His thumb flicked back and forth on her clit like a telegraph operator with epilepsy. Before long, he brought her to a thunderous orgasm.

The Colonel shook mightily and screamed out loud. Her body arched and spasmed and nearly levitated off the bed. A flush ran through her body, from head to toe and back again, and then she lay still.

Sledge pulled his still-hard cock out from her dripping snatch and watched her face. He fully expected her to pledge her undying love to him then and there, and to offer to join him in his fight against evil. But no.

Instead, she sat up on the bed, and reached into a drawer on one of the nightstands. She took out an emery board and began to nonchalantly file her fingernails. "Not bad," she said. "Not bad at all. But hardly the quality of sex that I expected from a super-agent such as yourself."

"Oh, and I suppose that you can do better?" asked Sledge, incredulous. She should be a simpering idiot by now, he thought, crawling on her belly and begging him to take her home with him!

"That should not be too hard," said the Colonel, rising to her knees on the bed. She grabbed Sledge and threw him to his back, then quickly turned and straddled his face, jamming her still-sopping pussy down onto his mouth.

Sledge was nearly suffocated as the Colonel's muscular thighs compressed his skull. He then felt her mouth descend onto his raging hard-on, engulfing his gigantic cock-head. Against his will, he gave himself over to the pleasure.

Still squeezing his noggin in the death-grip of her thighs, her mouth assaulted his engorged penis. She licked and slurped the mighty head, lapping all around the rim and into the slit with her talented tongue. She wrapped both of her hands around the shaft and slowly jacked them back and forth as her jaws worked the head with talent honed over many years of sexual combat.

No woman had ever before taken Sledge's enormous cock-head into her mouth, but the Colonel had uncanny talent, and nearly unhinged her jaws, snake-like, to take it all inside of her wet, warm, loving, talented mouth. She plunged her face downward to meet her curling hands, and somehow managed to completely engulf the gigantic tool. Sucking, licking, and stroking, she stimulated the swollen man-meat of the gargantuan cock with all of her talent, over and over, finally bringing Sledge to an orgasm of epic proportions, so that he shot forth a geyser of spunk deep into her throat. Spurt after spurt met swallow after swallow, and each white rope of jism found itself down her gullet and into her stomach. Sledge nearly passed out from the warm waves of pleasure.

But his swoon was brief. Fluttering his eyes back open, he grasped the Colonel's hips and tossed her off of him and onto her back. "That was not a bad little blowjob, Colonel," he said, condescendingly. "You have potential. But now it is once again my turn to show you who is your daddy."

Plunging face first into her crotch, Sledge snaked his nearly prehensile tongue deep into the womanly caverns of her vagina. In and out, back and forth, up and down went his muscular tongue; dancing on her outer lips, stroking her inner lips, coiling and caressing the sugar walls of her vagina. His teeth, ever so gently, nipped and kneaded at her clit, as his fingers stretched and stimulated the tissues surrounding her nether regions. With his other hand, he shoved first one finger, then two, and finally three into her moist and sopping pussy, rubbing and massaging her G-spot.

Agent Riprock's efforts soon paid off. As the Colonel's twitching thighs clamped tighter and snugger about his ears, he knew that he had her on the ropes; he increased the pressure of his tongue, his fingers, his teeth; he accelerated the tempo of his assault; he upped the ante of his full-fledged frontal ferocity on all of her most delicate and sensitive tissues. And then, in one final burst of fury, he unloaded his every trick at once: tongue and teeth, fingers and face, he gave her all he had with guns blazing, bringing her to a higher high than any woman he had yet to face!

The Colonel screamed and yodeled; she shuddered and convulsed; she secreted quarts of fluid from her vagina until Sledge's face looked like a glazed donut. And finally, she lay still, panting, her pale skin flushed.

Sledge got up on his knees and favored her with his best and haughtiest grin. "Ready to come home with me now, Colonel? And to join the team of goodness and righteousness?"

But the Colonel hoisted herself up to a sitting position and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "Very pleasant, my dear Agent Riprock. Thank you for the modest orgasm. But I am not ready to concede. My turn."

She pushed Sledge back down onto the bed on his back, and gave his oversized cock a few quick flicks of her wrist; soon it was once again admiring the chandelier. She crouched over his hips, hovering her moist and nearly prehensile pussy over the head of his monster cock. She poised for precious seconds, and then plunged downward, taking him up to her cervix in one quick, violent thrust. Placing her manicured hands on his broad chest, she pressed her buttocks down to his hips, and began furiously fucking him, cowgirl style.

As Colonel Igetzemov vibrated her pelvis up and down, jack-hammer style, on Agent Riprock's tower of power, her hands clenched involuntarily into his chest hair, nearly ripping it out by the roots. He stared into her face, reveling in the pain of his chest hair follicles. He felt the voluptuous, sensuous, irresistible pleasure of her silken pussy sliding up and down on his manhood, all the while drinking in the harsh and dangerous beauty of her facial features. As the skin of his penis felt her moist sliding vaginal tissues, he gazed deeply into her dark eyes, her full sensuous lips, her high cheekbones, and her quick clever darting tongue, licking again and again at the corners of her cruel and clever mouth. She was like no woman he had ever before met. But he resolved not to let her conquer him.

Colonel Igetzemov continued to wriggle and gyrate her pelvis on Agent Riprock's super-sized schlong. She felt his enormous cock-head ramming against her cervix; she felt his outsized shaft stretching her lips to the breaking point. But she would not yield; the Motherland needed her complete dedication! She thrusted and wriggled faster and faster, up and down, side to side, right and left and in and out. Finally, eventually, she felt his scrotum tighten under her taint, and knew that his orgasm was imminent. As he tensed and began to shoot, she bore down all the harder with her crotch, and planted her mouth on his, invading his mouth with her tongue in a deep and intense soul kiss.

Agent Riprock exploded! He shot jolt after jolt of white pearly cum deep into the Colonel's pussy, all the while doing his best to swallow her tongue into his throat. Her breasts mashed against his rippling pecs, and his arms sought out her buttocks. He even imagined that she climaxed herself as his massive tool spasmed wantonly within her womanhood.

The two super-agents lay quiescent for several minutes, the cool Russian agent atop the manly Western spy. But before long they sprung apart, neither willing to admit being affected by the other.

"Ha!" said the Colonel. "You have been conquered by my superior sexual skills! Crawl at my feet, western pig-dog!"

"Not bloody likely, Colonel," said Sledge. "You continue to be a pleasant dalliance between the sheets, but have yet to prove yourself my superior."

The Colonel glared at him, eyes red and glowing with something that might have been hatred. "And I suppose that you can do better, Tovarishch?" she said.

"We'll see." Sledge grabbed her and manhandled her into an all-fours position on the bed. He came up behind her, his cock still at full mast. Foregoing her pussy, he pressed the baseball-sized head of his cock up against her asshole. "Now, you will learn of the full power of my love-making skills, Colonel. God bless the Queen!" And with that, he plunged his tool deep within her Bolshevik bunghole.

"ARgghghgh!!" yelled the Colonel, but only briefly. As the outsized glans invaded her sphincter and began to massage her colon, she began to twitch and moan in incredible pleasure. Sledge continued to thrust and stab, poke and stroke, and dominate her chocolate chakra for nearly an hour. Eventually, limp as a rag-doll, the Colonel collapsed on the bed, swooning in uncontrollable pleasure.

As she lay there quiescent, Sledge pulled out of her pink starfish and retreated to one of the chairs in the room. He lit up a custom-made cigarette and waited for the Colonel to concede defeat. But he was to be disappointed yet again.

The Colonel rolled over to her back. She gritted her teeth, took a deep breath, and got to her feet. She looked Sledge in the eye. "Thank you, Agent Riprock. That was a very pleasant, if somewhat prosaic, diversion. We'll have to do it again some time. But for now, it is time for me to administer to you the coup de grace and put an end to this little silliness."

She went to the nightstand beside the bed, and pulled open the drawer. From within she removed a black harness, and a long, thick, purple dildo. It was as long and hard as a Louisville slugger, with a head like a croquet ball. Strapping the harness about her hips, she affixed the strap-on dildo in place. Turning quickly back and forth, she demonstrated the angular momentum of the cruel appendage. "Ready?" she asked.