House Girl VIII- The Western Flight free porn video
As important as I am to the national defense, and I don’t say that with any boast, I am really just a small part in what is the most sophisticated amalgamation of power, science, political will, intelligence and firepower. There had to be something else that I was missing. Something incredibly important. So important it should have been obvious. It had to be right in front of my face and I was overlooking it.
“Mrs. Honeycutt,” I said over the office intercom. “Please step into my office. And cancel the rest of my appointments for the afternoon. I am going into conference.” Mrs. Honeycutt shooed the several students and GA’s that were in my office waiting for a few minutes of my time. She punched a few numbers into her phone and her calls were forwarded to another secretary who would politely take messages and tell the callers that I was not available. Then she stepped into my office.
Though it has been several weeks since my betrayal and kidnapping, I wasn’t finished holding Mrs. Honeycutt accountable for her part in the scheme to put me in the control of the black op intelligence community. After the years we had spent together, all the times we had been intimate, it still stung. Even the night of punishment hadn’t sated my appetite for retribution. She stood before me, wearing a black business suit jacket, cut to fit her torso perfectly while not encumbering her movements in hand to hand combat. She wore a short black matching skirt that overlapped across the front, creating a natural opening that allowed her full movement of her legs.
“Lay down on my desk,” I instructed aloud, not using the neural link we shared. I wanted her to hear my words.
“Spread your legs.” She lay on her back with her legs hanging over the end of my desk, knees as wide as she could get them.
“Show me your cunt.” She pulled the folds of her skirt apart and moved her black lace panties aside, exposing her clean shaven pussy to my eyes.
“Where is your sidearm?” She slipped her hand deep under her skirt, along her hip and pulled out an extraordinarily compact 9mm.
“Take off the safety.” Her thumb complied without question.
“Put it to your temple.” Without the barest fear, she held the handgun to her head, finger still on the trigger guard, not on the trigger.
“I am going to fuck you now. If you cum, I want you to pull the trigger and blow your brains out.” Her eyes flickered. This was a dangerous game and she knew she couldn’t win. She also knew that she would play it out to the end.
“Do you know why I am doing this?” She nodded.
“Do you have any questions?” She shook her head no.
“Are you afraid?” She nodded, barely. Her eyes moistened with resignation that she knew she was minutes away from her own death.
I knelt between her legs and pulled her panties off. I put her thighs and my shoulders and buried my face in her sweet sex. I licked, I sucked, I nibbled and I impaled her with my tongue. All the while, I was sending waves of pleasure through her neural network, increasing her sense of pleasure. Just when she was ready to cum, I stopped and stood up. I dropped my pants, but I didn’t step out of them. I simply crammed my cock into her dripping hole and started fucking her hard, pistoning in and out of her. I looked her right in the eyes as her pleasure became a trickle, then a stream, then a torrent, and just as she reached the point where her epic orgasm was inevitable, I could see she was torn between orgasm and death. She wanted to let it go, and ride the wave into oblivion, but she retained a tiny vestige of control.
The pleasure was overwhelming. Her last tenuous grasp was fading. She was about to climax for the last time in her life. It was at that instant I removed all of the controls from her nanobots, returning her entirely to her own control.
“Now you will have to choose: End your own life as a punishment for your betrayal, or forgive yourself and me for having let you down.” Her finger tightened on the trigger. I felt that I may have judged her incorrectly. For a second, I thought she was going to go through with it. My pounding of her cunt never let up. If she was going to die, I was going to fuck her while she convulsed in her death throes.
Mrs. Honeycutt dropped the pistol beside her head, and put both hands around my arms, pulling me down to her. I blasted her insides with a load of sperm when I realized that she had opted to forgive herself and me as well. She came as well, bucking and writhing and gasping. We locked lips and mashed together in an embrace that joined our bodies entirely.
“Thank you for forgiving me,” she finally spoke after we broke our kiss. “Thank you for allowing me to make the choice. I will hand over my letter of resignation in the morning.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Angela and Theresa will need your guidance for the next several months. I am going on Sabbatical.”
“Professor, we are in the middle of a semester. You aren’t due for sabbatical for another year and a half,” she protested.
“I am sure the Dean will approve.” I can be very persuasive.
“What about the girls?”
“They are my employees, not my children. They have their school work to focus on, and their special projects. I think having a couple months without me fucking them silly every night might allow them to act like the teenagers they are. We will be in touch every day. Don’t worry.”
“Where will you be? Do you have something planned?”
“Don’t you worry about me. I will plenty busy researching a new idea.” I kissed her like a lover and withdrew my softening and gooey cock from her well used groin. Mrs. Honeycutt dropped to her knees and licked it clean, all the while dripping out a puddle of cum onto the carpet next to my desk. When she saw what she had done she said, “I’ll have new carpet installed while you are gone.” We both laughed.
“Make sure it’s something easy on the knee,” I winked.
Angela and Theresa didn’t take the news well. Even when I informed them that Mrs. Honeycutt would be taking good care of them, not that they needed it. Both girls were certified geniuses. Both girls were sublimely gorgeous. And both girls secretly looked forward to a little free time. They tried, but they couldn’t keep that secret from me. Even without the nanobots that fed all of their neural information directly to me, I know young women well enough to know what they are thinking.
The Dean of the college took the news that I was leaving on sabbatical immediately with professional aplomb. He wasn’t so short-sighted that he would dare insult the Golden Goose. He wished me Godspeed and asked me to stay in touch as my schedule allowed. I assured him I would.
The following morning I boarded a prototype aircraft headed west to chase the dawn. The aircraft was built by the best minds in stealth technology at Lockheed. Using twin jet engines built by Honda, the carbon fiber cabin and airframe was skinned entirely with a polyplastic nano mixture that was able to draw electrical energy from the static electricity created as the jet moved through the air. Much like my home, the aircraft could be reshaped to meet different flying criteria and conditions. It had its limitations, but comfort was not one of them. On the ground it looked much like the newer LearJet 75. In the air, flying higher than nearly all other aircraft, it took on an even sleeker, more aerodynamic aircraft similar to a miniature SR-71 Blackbird. There was so little metal used in its construction, it had the radar signature of a dvd player moving at the Mach 2+ speed. The aircraft itself was highly intelligent. Created only to fly, and fly very fast, it felt its only two purposes were to fly very fast and to provide its passengers the very best comfort in the sky.
Joining me on my flight was the only person on the planet I felt I could still fully trust, Rick Cheney. He poured us both perfectly brewed cup of coffee from the well-equipped galley and handed me one.
“Now we are airborne, want to tell me where we are going? Besides THAT-AWAY!” he said, pointing his finger toward the nose of the aircraft.
“Negombo,” I replied.
“Sri Lanka? What do you expect to find there?”
“There’s a man there I need to see about a horse,” I explained, enjoying my play on words.
“Have you decided to take up polo?”
“Do you know the history of the game of polo and where it was invented?”
“No, not really.”
“Too bad. If you did, you’d know how close you have come to the mark.”
We landed at Hawaii and refueled. Not that we needed to, the new Honda jet engines were extremely efficient at altitude, able to extract large amounts of thrust at the cost of very small amounts of fuel. In fact, I knew that landing and taking off from the big island would consume far more fuel than if we had just pressed on to Midway. But I had appearances to keep up. We were flying a prototype aircraft that had cost over a hundred million dollars to develop and I didn’t want to tip off any of its advance capabilities in case we were being observed. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched, in spite of my constant system checks. I connected to the aircraft’s neural network and communicated my pleasure over its fine performance. The aircraft responded with something akin to emotion, showing joy, if no other word could describe the semi-conscious state of the aircraft.
Airborne again and back to our cruising altitude higher than any commercial traffic, we cruised westward toward tomorrow. We’d be crossing the international date line before we landed in Sri Lanka. When we got there, I was going to see a certain man about a horse. The man was a former colleague and the horse you might say, was from Troy.
A Trojan Horse. -->
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