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“Of course you have a choice.”
Silas Collins sat there, assessing what was really going on here and whether everything was down the tubes for him. Yesterday morning he’d been in the Colombian jungle, just “that far” from seizing the daddy of all drug cartel lords, and now he was sitting in front of a desk, facing two suits and overlooking Northern Virginia woodlands, with a stack of photographs sizzling on the desktop between the three of them.
“We’ve just about got Emilio Delgado,” he said, stubbornly. “Two years I’ve spent on this. I’m only days away from blowing the top off this one. Send me back to Colombia, Ted.”
“That isn’t one of the choices,” Ted Talbot, chief of the South America section, said, the tiredness showing in his voice. They’d been around the bandstand a couple of times on this point.
“Sam Winterberry here has come up with the choice we’d all like you to make, Silas. It will more than save your career. And when you’ve helped him set up the new unit he’s forming, we can have you back. And all will be forgotten—nothing asked, nothing told. I’m not passing judgment, Silas. All I care about is results. I don’t want to lose you. Taking Sam’s offer is the win-win position for us all at this point.”
Silas took another look at the damning photographs.
“And McGrath. Will he have choices too?”
Both Ted and Sam looked uncomfortable.
“Alas no,” Ted said. “He doesn’t—rather, didn’t—have the value that you do—and Sam couldn’t say there would have been room for him, really in the new unit.”
“That so? Wouldn’t have been?” Silas asked.
“Well, I guess you haven’t heard,” Ted said in a low voice. “Sorry to say that Mike McGrath died this morning. Cleaning his gun. It was a terrible accident.”
There was a nervous moment of silence in the room as Silas absorbed this information.
“Is there really any other choice?” Silas eventually asked, his voice hard.
“A detail to Sam’s unit is by far and away the best choice, Silas—for all of us. Not least for you.”
“When would I have to start?” Silas asked.
“I leave for the Farm this afternoon; it’s a three-hour drive down to Williamsburg if we don’t meet a lot of traffic on 95 between Springfield and Dumfries,” Sam spoke up. “You could go with me—and get started right away. A new recruiting class is coming in for basic today. You could be inserted into this class tomorrow, right from the beginning.”
After he’d left Ted’s office and was sitting, waiting for Winterberry to be ready to leave, Silas thought back on McGrath. He’d been the moody tape—and had been the one who came on to Silas—and Silas had never known him to be careless with his guns. There were just too many choices in what to think about this. And as for the choices that had been given Silas, he didn’t really like any of them.
Silas Collins. I should have known there was something more to him than we were led to believe. It’s not just that he wasn’t on the bus from Washington with the rest of us, that he just appeared as a member of the recruitment class at the Farm for basic physical training the morning after we were bussed down to Williamsburg. It’s not just because he was older than the rest of us and in better shape and exuded confidence. And it’s not because he always seemed to know the answers—that he didn’t jump out and volunteer them—but that, if he was asked, he always had the right answer, succinctly given, on the tip of his tongue.
It was because of all of these together.
Without him ever telling us so or bragging about it, we soon learned that Silas could do everything. He could do more sit-ups and pushups and leg lifts, he immediately knew where to go to get anything at the Farm, he knew just what to say and when to shut up, he knew what direction the river and the main gate were from anywhere in the scrub forest of the triple-fenced installation. When we gathered in the evening, he had read all of the books, seen all of the movies, could play any tune we wanted to hear on the piano—which, when he found I could sing well, he did in accompaniment with me almost nightly in the club—and he could drink us all under the table and still remember what everyone had said throughout the day. He had all of the women recruits hanging on him, and more than one of the men recruits too.
I was one of those men.
I should have known. Much to my surprise, I’d passed the polygraphs. They hadn’t even asked any leading lifestyle questions. Pete had told me I’d be bounced at the initial interview and testing, given in an unobtrusive brownstone building on a Washington street I’d already forgotten the location of—which was probably the plan. But I had the languages and the skills and the desire for it. I hoped that would make up for the other—and to the point of entering basic physical training, it had.
Seth Kamar was another one of those men. I probably should have paid closer attention to Seth’s reaction to Silas—and Silas’s reaction back. But it seemed like merter escort in no time Seth was gone from the program and no one said anything about why—they just glowered at anyone who brought it up and made clear that even this, not asking such a question as this, was part of our training for what we were to do in life.
There wasn’t much of a question why someone like Seth was in this program. He was third generation Palestinian-American and spoke both Arabic and Persian fluently. He was also quick witted and breezed right through the obstacle courses set for us in our basic physical training regime. He’d been captain of the tennis team at Texas A&M, a team that had come close to winning the national collegiate title every year he’d swung his racket for it. But it was obvious to me—OK, maybe a little less obvious to others, but obvious to me—that he liked men. He was handsome, dark, and sultry, spending considerable more time on his looks than a paramilitary recruit should—and he couldn’t control his roving eye.
He’d closely eyed all of the more presentable men—and it was a good-looking, fit recruitment class—whenever we were stripped down just in shorts for the training and whenever we were out in the forest and “making do” with our cleanliness routines.
His eyes had fallen on me more than once, but I wasn’t about to chance anything now that I’d gotten this far, and so I stayed as far away from him as possible.
But Silas didn’t stay away from him. Almost from the first day, they had become close buddies. Seth stuck to Silas like a puppy dog and took every opportunity to team up with Silas on exercise routines or the occasional operational exercise out in the scrub forest.
And then, not more than three weeks into the training, Seth was gone, overnight, without a word to anyone or an explanation from anyone. The next day, the instructors just ignored questions of where he was—or stared down anyone who asked until it dawned on them that this wasn’t a question to ask and might, in fact, be a test of some sort—they were always talking about “need to know” around here—and within two days it was like Seth had never been here.
It wasn’t like this was unusual, though. Others in the class also disappeared as quickly and totally, women as well as men. Some I could understand, because the training was rigorous and it was inevitable that some portion of the class would decide this was not a life they wanted—or had that decision made for them. Most of the fallouts were pretty understandable and identifiable. However, there also were a couple of trainees, Seth included, who were standouts in the training and who just disappeared from the class forever.
I got a handle on this a few weeks into training too. Beth DePage, one of the female physical trainers took a shine to me—although not just to me. She pretty much went through the men in the class in the time I was there. But I was one of the first men she hit on. It became sort of a game on what man she was going to fuck next. But she was peculiar, in that none of the men claimed they had gone with her more than the one time.
My time came one evening after a particularly grueling day on the obstacle course. We were in just shorts and jocks and Beth was showing us how to twist our bodies to fit through ever-smaller pipe openings. And when my turn came, she made quite familiar use of her hands, including a visit to my basket, under the rim of my shorts, and I received a whispered invitation to meet her behind the club hut with a bottle of bourbon at twilight.
I dared not accept the invitation—but I equally dared not turn it down. So there I was, all nervous and not the least bit interested. And we drank while I tried to build up courage and interest by kissing and squeezing her and even latching on to her proffered nipple with my lips. But we both got pretty tipsy in the process. In the effort to put the unthinkable off, my questions were guided by more curiosity then they should have been and Beth’s lips became looser than I’m sure they really should have also. I asked her about the disappearing classmates—especially the ones who seemed to be doing really well, including Seth—and without directly saying it, Beth let me know that not all of the trainees were leaving because they changed their minds or crashed out. Some were being pulled out for special assignments, already being needed somewhere in the field and having proven capable enough to cut their basic training short.
I asked directly about Seth, though, and she just gave me a peculiar look.
She also switched gears at this point, no longer egging me on to fuck her. And she thought of somewhere she needed to be and left me there, relieved—although in hindsight, I shouldn’t have been—that I hadn’t had to try to go through with it. I was probably the only man by the end of training—other than Seth, of course—who didn’t fuck Beth DePage, but I wasn’t about to brag about that.
Then right after Seth disappeared, Silas turned on a dime. nişantaşı escort Switched his interest to me. I should have guessed then. But that was before I’d been working for the Firm for several years, before I discovered how things worked around here.
I didn’t go after Silas, and he didn’t go after me—exactly. But now, suddenly, with Seth gone, Silas needed a partner for our partnered exercises, and my partner, a woman named Janice, crashed out of the program. Silas and I were rebunked together because they said they needed rooms for an incoming class. And there it was, natural, and inevitable. Or so it looked at the time. I’ve seen Janice around the Langley headquarters building from time to time in recent years, though, so I guess she didn’t really bomb out of that course.
Silas was good at spreading himself and his goodwill and his helpfulness around to everyone in the course. But after Seth left, Silas gave me an extra helping of that attention. And I admit that I felt privileged and lucky. And I can’t say that I didn’t find him enticing and arousing too. Silas was a real hunk—and a charmer. A regular “can do everything” Renaissance man.
I learned this in spades when he abruptly let me know I didn’t fool him—that he was on to me. And that he was interested.
One day during a particularly boring tradecraft ops course, Silas was sitting just in front of me, both of us on the edge of the seating, next to the window, which was getting more of my attention than the lecturer was when we were being lectured on things we’d read about more than once and already been lectured on more than twice. I noticed that Silas was writing notes—or seemed to be writing notes. I found this odd, because Silas, while always knowing the answer to everything, almost never took notes.
But the closer I looked, the more I realized that he wasn’t taking notes. He was drawing on a pad of paper. Sketching with a pencil. And when he realized that I was interested in what he was doing, he lifted the pad high enough for me to see what he was drawing.
The shock went straight through my body—and, unfortunately, seemed to focus on the area of my dick, which stood right up to attention, to my great embarrassment, although I’m sure no one could see it.
But it didn’t matter if no one could see it. Silas was signaling to me that he knew all, that there was no hiding from it with him.
What he’d drawn on the sketchpad was two men—naked and in an embrace, fucking. And Silas was such a good artist that I immediately and clearly was able to identify the two men as Silas and me.
He made his move that evening. I went, alone, to one of the gym rooms—one by dorms not then occupied by anyone—where I decided to work out on the machines to the point of exhaustion, to do what I could to exercise the fears and desires right out of me. I’d always been able to clear my head and think better after an exhausting workout.
And it was working, but then Silas showed up. He found me, and the first I knew he was behind me, seemingly to spot me as I sat on a bench, doing arm curls with weights. But his hands were too busy where they didn’t belong to be spotting me. And he was sitting behind me on the bench, close, until I gave up on pretending I was doing arm curls and just sat there, Silas wedged behind me, his thighs pressing mine into the bench.
He’d been holding me by the waist, but when I stopped and let the weights fall back into the racks at the side of the bench, I felt him move in closer and wrap his arms around my chest from behind. I was only wearing shorts, and so was he—if he was wearing even that much.
And he just held me, waiting for the tension to flow out of my body, waiting for me to surrender to him.
“It’s going to be all right, it’s going to be fine,” he murmured in my ear.
I whimpered, knowing both that it wasn’t fine and that it was divine—that he aroused me like I’d never been moved before. I was hardening, and he sensed that I was, and one of his hands went to my basket and he held my cock through the thin material of the gym shorts.
“No, don’t . . . please. I’m not . . . ,” I whimpered. I couldn’t finish the sentence, though. My cock in his fist betrayed me.
“Shush, shush, it’s OK. Just relax. You are . . . I know that you are. But it’s OK, it’s going to be OK.”
“No, please,” I whimpered again. “I can’t . . . we can’t . . .”
“Oh, I think we can, Paulo. You want me. I know you want me. And there’s no reason not to.”
“There’s every reason. Our careers . . . everything.”
“You fuck men, Paulo. I know you do. You do, don’t you?”
I couldn’t answer. He had his cock free now, and was crouched behind me, rubbing his cock up and down on my back. I was trembling and shuddering and little sounds were coming up from deep inside me that I’d never heard before. And I was having difficulty breathing.
“Say it, Paulo. You’ve been fucked by a man before. Say it. It’s OK. We’ll be fine.”
I ortaköy escort mumbled something, I’m not sure what.
“Say it, Paulo.”
“I go with men,” I sputtered out, the saying of it being like wrenching my gut out of me.
“You would go with me if there was nothing to be scared of, wouldn’t you, Paulo?”
“Yes,” given after a brief pause that seemed like forever.
“Do you want to leave right now, Paulo? If so, just get up and leave. But then I will still know about you. If we fuck, I’ll be part of it. I’ll be more of a part of it than just knowing. Your choice. Choose now.”
I started to get up, but my legs were like rubber. He was right. I’d gone too far already. If I left now, he could just report what I was and truthfully say anything he’d done was just to trap me. But even as I settled back down in his embrace, I knew that I would stay anyway. I wanted him, and it was too late to deny that.
“Ah, good choice,” he whispered in my ear. His hand went under the waistband of my shorts and he was fisting my cock, skin on skin, now. “Yes, that’s it, Paulo. Just relax. Yes, like that. Good. It’s going to be OK. It’s going to fine. You’re a bottom, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I squeaked.
“And have taken it big?”
“Yes,” I answered, with a gulp. I’d seen what Silas had. I only now was taking that into account.
“Wow, guy, relax. You’re packing too. Now, have you ever done it with a belt sling—a plow belt? I like the plow belt.”
I never had, and had no idea what a plow belt was. But I sure know what it is now—and I melt every time I think about it. I’m in good shape, but not all that tall. Silas, on the other hand, was tank built and more than a head taller than me, and there soon was no question that he could easily press way more poundage then me.
After it was clear we were going to do this, he stood at the bench and turned me around, and made me suck his cock hard. I was, in fact, good at that, and he showed his appreciation in almost losing control of himself and beginning to fuck my face before he was able to break off. While I was blowing him, he reached over my back and started working lube into my channel, so that we were ready at nearly the same time.
I admit that I was both confused and intrigued when he went over by the door and came back with what he called the plow belt—a black leather, padded strip about ten inches thick and four feet long, with hand holds at each end.
Silas held it in one hand, draped down to the floor, while he told me to stand in the middle of the gym floor, facing him, and he encircled my waist with his arm.
“Work them together,” he murmured, and I reached for our cocks and rubbed and pumped them together while he kissed me on the lips and worked his mouth down to my nipples.
I was more than ready, when he handed me a condom disk and told me to crown him, which I did.
“Turn,” he said, and I turned and he crouched a bit; palmed my belly with the hand he was holding the sling in; told me to bend over, which I did; and then used his other hand to help guide his cock head to, and then into my hole. I cried out and moaned at the breaching, and then gasped and groaned as he slowly slid deep up inside me.
It was heaven. I didn’t care what they did to me now. Having Silas Collins’s cock up inside me was worth it, even if this was the only time I’d have to enjoy it.
And then the fucking began, and everything that went before that didn’t compare to where Silas took me.
When I was fully impaled, Silas flipped the sling around the front of me and grabbed it with his other hand. It was stretched across my lower belly, and the first thing I knew, he’d drawn it tight and lifted my feet off the ground. I tipped forward, my arms just dangling in front of me, while I moaned and groaned, and the hulk that was Silas just pumped my dangling body back and forth on his cock by pulling and releasing on the pressure of the plow belt until we both had climaxed. It was an incredible fuck.
Just to show that he liked me, when we got back to our shared dorm room, he laid me on my back and fucked me hard and deep in the time-honored missionary position, followed by doggy style, and ending near dawn by a side split.
* * * *
The next afternoon, I was pulled out of class and summoned to the administration building. Two of the instructors walked me over.
I wasn’t all that surprised. Silas had been gone when I got up that morning and he wasn’t in class. I figured he’d told our handlers about me. Had his fun and then said he’d trapped me. Silas was gold; they’d believe anything he said.
It was worse than that.
And I knew it wasn’t going to be good, because all of my gear was sitting by the door of the room I was shown into. And sitting down the hall, looking at the floor, was Silas.
I sat there in the administrative office, cheery sunshine streaming in through the window, looking at the photographs: Silas fucking me, both in the gym room and in our dorm room. I had been set up. But the cameras hadn’t shot anything that wasn’t true. There was nothing there I could deny.
The man in the expensive, well-pressed suit told me that his name was Sam Winterberry and that he was putting together a new unit in the Agency, one that tracked down good intelligence the old-fashioned way.
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