I’d be lying if I said that I trusted any of what Elena had said during our meeting, after all she was still my adversary’s wife. However, this was an opportunity that was far too good to pass up.
The bullet had gone into my left shoulder and richocheted off the bone. A .30 caliber cartridge.
A .30 caliber was what killed Benjamin ‘Bugsy’ Siegel back in the 1940s.
The grotesque looking scar was a sort of macabre parting gift courtesy of Charlie Duran.
Honestly, I was lucky to still be able to use my arm but I could remember ever so vividly just how and when it happened. It came flooding back to me in real time like some kind of on demand video playback. The sound of the rain combined with the hustle and bustle of city nightlife; the sound of cars dodging and darting through evening traffic and congestion of motorways. Then there were the lights. The bright lights of marquees. As I exited the doors of the theater, they made their move.
The lady friend admired my well tailored suit and was anticipating an evening with Antonio Geist; one of the most prominent names in local society.
As I reached for the door to open it for this blonde beauty, the report of the carbine echoed out.
Three Shots.
Two missed. One found its mark.
I did not feel the hit.
Next thing I knew, my associates had guns drawn and the report of gunfire at an indecernable assailant interrupted what she have been a night of entertainment with this blonde broad. I should have had my cock between her breasts at my lakeside retreat, but instead there was the commotion of frightened patrons and pedestrians; people ducking and darting for cover as my associate Marco rushed to my aid.
“You’ve been hit.” He said.
The only response I could give was some indecipherable grunting sound. I remember slipping in and out of consciousness; probably from the shock of the wound trauma and blood loss.
Marco tried his best to dress my wound with what he had, his bloody hands reaching into a hole in my jacket shoulder.
The last thing I heard him say before I slipped away was, “Hold on boss.”
That was seven years ago.
I jerked from the depths of sleep.
The crack of thunder and the sounds of rain against the house created a peaceful ambience that proved hard to not enjoy.
My eyes scanned the dimly lit room. Faint movement caught my eye amidst the shadows of the room.
Elena was hard at work on my fleshy member.
Her beautifully naked body lay curled up amidst the linen sheets of my bed. Her long dark hair was tossed over one shoulder.
The wall mounted television was muted. The cacaphony of noise of the passing thunderstorm would have rendered it useless anyway. Still, its glow cast some lighting although faint throughout the room.
On it’s screen, her husband Attorney General Charlie Duran gave a live press conference in a bid to garner support for his mission to crack down on organized crime. He stood at the podium flanked by aides delivering a fiery sermon to an audience of reporters and flashing cameras.
Meanwhile, his wife was servicing me.
One hand gently cupped my balls, caressing and kneading softly while the other stroked the girthy shaft of my erection.
While the closed captioning announced his plans to bring me to justice, his overly animated gestures and theatrics orchestrated to drive his points whom to viewers; Elena passionately ran her tongue up the base of my cock as if it were some perverted lollipop.
She traced the roadmap of veins which framed the robust shaft with her tongue until her pillowy soft lips pursed against the powerfully crafted and bulbous head. She dribbled a blob of saliva over the head before it disappeared between her crimson red lips. Her head bobbed up and down rhythmically wit a profuse determination as she stroked away at my swollen flesh.
Fuck was she good.
The more animated Charlie got on television, the more intense she was in pleasuring me. The idea of gaining revenge for everything that he had ever done to her, specifically taking revenge with Charlie’s archenemy proved overwhelmingly arousing to her.
The physical and psychological torment was too great. It affected her deeply.
She was a changed woman. No longer naive to the ways of man, but she now saw the world naked and unbridled.
****
The black sports car pulled up the long winding driveway of the estate. Its dark tinted windows masked the occupant before it came to a halt before a lengthy garage door. The license plate on the rear simply read ‘DURAN’.
The driver’s door opened and Elena emerged from the driver’s seat.
Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. A pair of designer sunglasses concealed her eyes. She wore a cream colored blouse and a pair of white capri pants which complimented her modelesque figure.
As she shouldered a designer purse, she picked up the straps of a shopping bag and closed the door.
She sauntered along, the sound of her heels clicking against the pavement of the walkway as she made her way to the door.
She happily let herself in.
I mean what was there not to be happy about? She was a newlywed to one of the most powerful and influential men in the country; Mr. Charlie Duran who had been nominated to be the new Attorney General. She had recently arrived from her native Europe and life appeared to be great. She was filled with life and optimism.
The large house was spacious and elegant, something that she could only wish for in her youth.
There was not much to be had when you grew up in a working class family under the Communists. They preached equality for all and the dangers of capitalism but it was all an illusion. While high ranking members of the party endulged in luxury goods and abundance, the working class families toiled and labored for the crumbs.
She was far removed from the small mountain village with the little house that accommodated her, her parents and her three sisters.
Elena Kurashenkyo, became a celebrity in her village when the news arrived that she was attending the prestigious University in the capital and that she would marry Charles Duran, the Acting Solicitor General of the Justice Department.
As she set her shopping bags down, she called out for Charlie.
No answer.
“Babe!” she called out, looking in search of her husband.
She peered into the living room. No sign of him.
Maybe the kitchen? Nope.
She curiously looked around in search of Charlie. Where could he be?
Then a faint sound caught her attention from behind and she turned to head towards his office.
The sounds slowly began to grow more and more frequent.
She curiously reached for the door which appeared to be closed but it did not fully seat.
As she pushed the door open, she was greeted by the sight.
There was her husband, balls deep in the maid.
The college aged girl was bent over the solid oak desk. A cloth gag was tied around her mouth in an attempt to muffle and silence her moans. Her dress had been hiked up and her bare ass full and round absorbed the brunt of Charlie’s thrusts. His hands held a firm grasp of her waist as he balanced himself on one foot which was perched firmly on the floor and his other bracing himself; bent on the surface of his desk.
The strange noises she had heard was the creaking of the oak desk as it absorbed the energy of Charlie’s thrusts into the maid.
Elena stood frozen in silence and disbelief.
She was devastated.
Charlie hadn’t noticed his young bride in the doorway.
His thrusts slowed as he released his grip on her hips and one hand reached down and secured his penis. He slowly extracted his being from the wet fleshy sheath, her juices beginning to run down the insides of her legs. He began to stroke himself in anticipation of finishing.
“Quick, before Elena gets home.” He whispered, smacking the girl on her ass.
She began to gyrate her hips in a rhythmic fashion while she remained bent over the desk.
“Fuck.” he grimaced as he began to stroke harder.
Finally, he had all he could take and he climaxed.
The splurt of fluid exited his erection and splattered across the maid’s fleshy buttocks.
Elena was heartbroken and devastated.
That vivid memory of the first time she caught Charlie being unfaithful played over and over again in her mind like a broken highlight reel. It all fueled her. The infidelity, the lies, the abuse, the threats. It rang deep within her until finally she felt that she had nothing left but revenge. There was only one person she could think of who could get at Charlie so deeply, that it would completely destroy him; and that man was Antonio Geist, aka Tony the Ghost or Mr. Specter. They called him the Ghost because of his elusiveness.
Her diamond necklace bobbed and swayed as she serviced me.
I reached my hand down and rested my palm on her head, brushing her dark hair to the side and running down the side of her face. She nuzzled my palm with her cheek, her green eyes closing with an expression of lust and passion on her face before she glanced up at me and proceeded to lick along the cock and take as much of me into the warm recesses of her mouth as she could.
The back of her throat felt amazing.
She adjusted her posturing so that I could get a better view of her naked figure. Her large full breasts pressed against the sheets and her curvy hips and round ass seductively curvaceous and enticing.
The green wiggle dress she had worn to meet me lay in disarray, sprawled on the floor beside a pair of expensive designer thong panties. Her high heeled pumps haphazardly at the foot of the bed.
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” I mused in a low tone as I observed Elena’s activity.
She replied with an exaggerated slurping sound as she stroked the base of my erection.
A deviant smile turned into a lustful grimace as I prepared to finish.
She leaned back, cupping my balls once again and stroking the lengths of my swollen member.
She glanced to the TV for a few moments.
The sight of her husband oogling his blonde aid brought all of the feelings of anger rushing back to the surface. She knew that look, and that meant she was going to get a phone call that he was working late. She knew his routine.
She began to tighten her grip and stroke my shaft more assertively. I held on as best as I could.
“This fucking Charlie guy I swear.” I thought to myself as I struggled to maintain my composure under Elena’s onslaught.
The caption on the TV announced his plans to bring the infamous Antonio Geist to justice, and that nothing would stop him until he saw me dead or in jail.
That was when I lost it.
My groin muscles tightened and tensed up. The first splurt shot out the tip of the broad head and came to rest on Elena’s lips. She wasn’t letting the rest get away as she wrapped her lips around me and proceeded to massage me with her tongue and the final remaining streams of jism exited the depths of my groin.
With a mouthful, she licked up the stray droplet or two before turning her attention to the bastard on the TV screen.
With a gulp, the contents of her mouth was gone and she wiped the remainder from her lips and licked it from her fingers.
Her fingers ran along the lengths of my now emptied member with its lengths decorated in prints of crimson lipstick.
I ran my hand through her hair in silence.
She looked up towards me before she pursed her lips and kissed my penis with a mischevious smile before slinking away to the bathroom.
The tattoo of a phoenix on her left shoulder blade caught my eye before she disappeared behind the door.
After a few moments, Elena emerged from the bathroom and slipped her naked body into the depths of the bedsheets. I picked up the television remote and turned it off.
The room fell into darkness aside from what light from the night outside cast upon us.
Revenge was definitely sweet and it would be more so for both of us soon enough.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/o3xtfl/sleeping_with_the_enemy_part_i