“You are exactly what I wanted tonight;
a nice young piece of firm American ass.”
Young American Ford Blackburn kept his
hands against the glass as the man’s hot breath whispered in his
ear. The cock in his ass was grinding him and he continued to
push back, but the club owner would stop every time Ford tried
to get into it. The pounding beats of the music from the latest
hot spot in Prague could not drown out the grunts in his ear.
Ford had been sent there to have fun, but this was not the type
he’d envisioned.
“I love fucking Americans, especially the
sweet young ones. So tight and hot, no my boy, this is for my
pleasure, not yours.”
Ford heard the grunt and tried to ignore
it by watching the crowd below. A young woman with long straight
black hair walked across the stage and started dancing. He shook
his head, but something started nagging him.
“Yes, resist my cock in your ass. You
thought you would find a piece of ass out there and now your ass
is being used.”
Ford ignored the man. He had to keep his
cover. He shifted again and the cock in his ass made him whimper.
He pawed at the glass as the owner increased his tempo. The woman
tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled. Ford closed his
eyes. He could hear that woman tell him that she loved him. Anger
surged through his body, but he retained control.
“You have such a great ass.” The owner
grunted again. “Such a perfect ass.”
Ford winced as the owner slapped his ass
and started to pound into him. That girl continued to dance and
as she looked up, she smiled. Ford felt the man shoot off in his
ass. The girl reminded him of someone. Anger sent his blood surging
through his body. His cock was hard from the continued fucking,
but he was in no mood to finish himself off. He still had a job
to do.
The owner pushed Ford away as he slipped
out of the young American. “I might have to sample your ass in
a better environment. The restroom is through that door; clean
up and come back here. Don’t touch yourself or I’ll make sure
you have nothing to touch.”
Ford nodded and walked down the hall. He
was holding the front of his jeans with a hand. He could feel
the man’s slime sliding out of his ass. Ford knew he was in no
danger of infection or damage. Any tears the owner might have
caused were already healed and he couldn’t get sick anymore. Anger
welled up again as he could not get that girl's face out of his
mind. ‘I think we should just be friends…’ Ford splashed
water on his face and cleaned up the mess from his fucking. He
was in Prague on a mission. The club owner worked for the Russian
Crime Syndicate. Ford ran a hand through his jet black hair and
hitched up his boxers and jeans. He looked every inch of the Californian
he was and that pushed the owner’s buttons in all the right places.
Opening the door, another surge hammered
through his body and he fell to his knees. He had to stay in control
or he would phase through the floor and then his cover would be
blown. Ford tried to calm his pulse, but the anger would not go
away. Image after image of that girl flashed in his mind. ‘I’m
so sorry…’
More images cascaded down on him in progression.
None of them set in California. Exploding trucks, football games,
cheerleaders, fires, frozen people, memory impulses, and a funeral.
Medals…his father’s medals.
He managed to get back on his feet, splashed
more water on his face, and stared at his own reflection in the
mirror. “Who the hell are you?”
