Spy on Spy 3

Were Caity to look in on Gentila, she would’ve seen the enemy agent with her forearm pressed to her ear, apparently doing no more than stretching. She would have little idea that there was a communicator implanted in Gentila’s arm, one able to gain her attention with a slight, telltale tingle and speak to her through the bones of her skull, once held closely enough for the vibrations to be conducted into her head. Gentila was hearing much the same information and orders that Caity was getting, only flipped for her respective side. Caity was a CIA assassin, rarely exposed, and although HOOK only had Gentila in the area, unarmed, literally naked but for the technology that had been implanted in her, the opportunity was too great to ignore. She must eliminate her counterpart.

Coming back to herself, Gentila saw her own snarling expression in the mirror. She would’ve enjoyed testing her will against Caity once more, perhaps truly shattering her, making her forever the submissive slut that she’d been at the moment of orgasm. Upon finding out that Caity was CIA, the prospect became even more alluring. To know that Caity was as well-trained as herself and had still lost to her—it made Gentila want to savor her victory in as many ways and as many times as possible. But no. Duty came first.

Of course, how was she supposed to execute her duty? Let alone Caity? She had no weapons. Caity was as well-trained as she was when it came to martial arts. What was there to do? Except exhaust Caity, sexually overwhelm her once more, and then kill her in her satiated afterglow. If she could reduce Caity to the same level of quivering satisfaction that she had just been at, then taking her out would be child’s play.

Gentila came out of the bathroom to see Caity lying face-up on the bed, no longer embraced by the sheets but shunning them, defying them, surrounded by their wrinkled folds as she pleasured herself. With one hand grasping two flutes of champagne, dangling over the side of the bed, the other was buried between her thighs, playing herself like an instrument as her body roiled and danced with the rapture clearly electrifying her body. Gentila watched in shameless voyeurism as Caity’s hand worked faster and faster, the rest of her trembling so much that the two champagne glasses clinked against each other in a never-ending toast. Caity’s juices glimmered their way down from her sex and between her pert buttocks. Gentila was so enthralled by the sight that she did nothing to attend to the throbbing in her own groin, only standing there as more and more of her pulsed with hunger.

Caity let go of the champagne glasses, letting them rest on the floor to finger herself with both hands. Wrist angled, she slid the middle two fingers of her left hand inside herself, while she rubbed at her clit with the palm of her right.  Her fingers sloshed inside her soaking womanhood. She added another finger, growing her voiced utterances to a gasping, panting cacophony. Then she rammed all four fingers into herself, bunched phallically into a single penetration. Her inner folds sucked and pulled at the intrusion while her clit trembled wildly.

“You’re not helping,” she moaned, eyelashes fluttering, taking in Gentila’s naked body as she pleased herself, openly using the sight of Gentila to feed her own lust.

Gentila stood legs akimbo, equally openly offering herself up to Caity. “Why don’t you come over here and help yourself?”

With that innuendo, Gentila locked her eyes on Caity, investing the look with all her will, all her charisma, all the force of her personality. It was a stare carrying both endless dominance and the promise of unspeakable delight, and she was not surprised when Caity obeyed it. 

Curling her fingers within herself, bringing herself to the cusp of orgasm with a drag of fingertips over her G-spot, Caity stopped masturbating with her pleasure an omnipotent clenching between her legs. She picked up one glass of champagne and gulped it down, then took up the other and held it out to Gentila with wet fingers. Gentila took it from her, running the pads of her fingers over the hand Caity had wrapped around the glass’s stem, feeling the wetness and warmth that otherwise were only inside of Caity’s sex. Taking the glass, she drank it as though she were tasting Caity herself, enjoying a rush of intoxicating anticipation that she knew was soon to be answered. 

Kneeling on the foot of the bed, her cunt a vivid crimson on a body darkened by the dim light, Caity kissed Gentila. Her mouth tasted of the champagne, but sweeter, and as their tongues tapered away from each other, Caity caressed Gentila’s face with her hand, running her wet fingers across Gentila’s lips to turn the taste of the champagne kiss into a sample of her delicious cream. Fingertips lingering on Gentila’s lower lip, Caity licked up her knuckles, tasting herself before her tongue lapsed inside of Gentila’s mouth and they both explored, sucked, tasting all they could of the delectable flavor they shared. 

“The only thing that could make your lips taste better,” Caity murmured, “is if they kissed my pussy for an hour or so.”

Gentila smiled into the end of Caity’s kiss. “Why don’t you go down there and show me?”

Caity obeyed so willingly that Gentila didn’t even think her opponent might be lulling her into the same false sense of security she’d bestowed on Caity to win her first victory. 

Caity’s lips grazed against Gentila’s nipples, wetting them with the liquid spark of the champagne that lingered on her mouth. She felt them throb against her kiss, a quiver that ran into her own body and came to a rest in her pussy, growing as Caity licked and sucked Gentila’s delicious breasts in earnest. She closed her lips around each nipple, pulling them into her mouth, sucking on them with each throb. Then Caity went lower, leaving Gentila’s nipples hardened and stinging, so that she could kiss Gentila’s flat belly, dart her tongue into the cute little belly button. Her own breasts pressed into Gentila’s lap, warm and slick with what felt like hours of Gentila’s arousal.

“Eat my pussy!” Gentila moaned, her words barely understandable in the midst of all her sighs and gasps. “Oh—God… Give me your tongue!”

Caity inched down until she found the silky gold of Gentila’s pubic hair. She eased herself through it, pressing her lips to the smooth opening, hot and moist with need. Gently, she spread her lips to take in the labia of Gentila’s pussy, sending a shiver of excitement racing through her lover. Then, she let her tongue slip easily inside of Gentila, tasting the deliciousness of her cunt, its juices heady, surrounding her with their perfumed scent. The taste was so intoxicating that Caity felt a thrill from the back of her throat down to her boiling sex.

“Mmmmm,” she moaned softly into Gentila’s taste, her tongue quivering against the tight little slit.

Gentila ran her fingers through Caity’s chocolate hair, forcing her face against her groin. Her lips rounded into a soft O of delight as Caity’s tongue lashed against her throbbing clit, striking it with rapid jolts of perfect bliss that tore through Gentila until they were almost too much to bear. Gentila was so lost in the sensation that she was unprepared when Caity twisted, throwing Gentila onto the bed. Caity straddled Gentila’s chest, lowering her cunt down onto one of the firm breasts that made Gentila so irresistible. Her pussy sung with rippling spasms as Gentila’s nipple entered her, throbbing as firmly as any man had ever done with her.

“Sweet Christ,” Caity breathed as Gentila’s breast pressed deeper into her sex, soft and yielding to just the right degree. As Caity ground herself against it, it was almost like she was a girl rutting against her pillow again. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back as the pleasure climbed higher, tightening her body in a grip of agonized need. Her climax wasn't as intense as when Gentila had fucked her, but it lasted blissfully long, with a delicate sensuality that had her instantly ready for more, filled with a longing almost as painful as that she’d just satisfied. She could tell Gentila felt the same way.

“I want your cunt!” Gentila cried, incensed by how Caity had taken the upper hand. She wrapped her arms around Caity’s hips, desperate to get her tongue inside of the other woman.

Caity twisted away from her, going for Gentila’s own sex as her lover clawed at her legs, gripping them to get them apart and drag Caity back. They ended up parallel to each other, sixty-nining, Caity’s face rubbing against Gentila’s creamy pussy while her cunt was pressed to Gentila’s mouth. She drove her tongue into Gentila and Gentila drove her tongue into Caity, both of them freezing with the pleasure that screamed out of the delving tongues inside them.

Caity’s tongue seemed trapped inside Gentila’s pussy as it clenched and tightened snugly. She had to exert her will to deprive herself of the wonderful warmth, pulling her tongue out, then sliding it back in for a fresh taste of Gentila’s cream. It seemed that with each gulp she took, she felt her own cunt tingle with satisfaction, and she rolled her hips against Gentila’s exploring tongue, rubbing it on her inner folds. Together, Caity and Gentila brought each other to a potent orgasm, moaning into one another’s pussies with faces wet from the titanic releases they’d caused. 

Caity rolled them onto their sides and spread Gentila’s buttocks with her fingers, allowing her to train her eyes on Gentila’s tightly closed asshole. She licked from Gentila’s slit to between her buttocks, leaving a wet trail of her saliva all the way to Gentila’s anus. Nuzzling her mouth against the narrow opening, she inhaled the scent of Gentila’s musk, so fragrantly acrid that it was practically sweet. With her mouth full of Gentila’s cream, Caity pressed her lips to the woman’s anus, forcing her tongue up Gentila’s ass dripping with the juices of her cunt. Gentila did the same, sending her tongue circling around Caity’s tightly tiny sphincter. Both their tongues ran in and out, laving one another with the flavorful cream that they’d devoured so readily moments ago.

They both acted hungrily, urgently, stroking their tongues inside tight, virginal assholes as if in defiance of the orgasmically hot throbs they felt growing inside them. Moaning, panting, crying out despite herself, Caity tried to ignore how aroused Gentila was making her. She could hear Gentila choking back her moans as well, muffling them in Caity’s voluptuous ass as she was struck by every forceful jolt of pleasure Caity could give her. 

In the end, they both lost. They were too well-matched, too guarded now. They both reached the point of being unable to take anymore at the same time, and so together they shared an overwhelmingly satisfying climax that rippled through their bodies, filling every nerve with relief, leaving them gasping wetly into each other’s nethers as each moment of afterglow burned brighter than the one before. A tie. A fucking tie.

“I need a drink,” Caity groaned when speech was finally possible. “How about you?”

Gentila nodded sleepily. Although they had both come, she got the feeling it had taken more out of her than Caity. She could barely move.

Caity pulled herself out of bed and picked up the bottle of wine that had previously filled their two glasses. She went back to the bed and knelt over Gentila, tipping the bottle so that a trickle of its contents fell on Gentila’s chest. As Gentila moaned at the chill, Caity lowered her face and licked away every trace of liquor from Gentila’s tanned breasts. 

Gentila raised her head, looking down at Caity as the other woman poured more wine over her cleavage, lapping it up thirstily as it ran down Gentila’s body. Caity collected a mouthful of wine and then kissed Gentila, sharing the drink with her, then sucking it back out of her mouth to swallow down. When their lips parted, Caity simply tipped the bottle back, took another slug from its uncorked opening, and forced her liquored lips together with Gentila’s again. She did this until she seemed as lightheaded as any beach bimbo, such a convincing act that Gentila wondered if Caity’s reputation as a spy was at all deserved.

“You’d better have some,” Caity drawled, redirecting the bottle to hover over her own breasts. “Before I get called greedy.”

Gentila forced herself up—otherwise, the wine would go to waste as Caity poured it onto her tits and down her naked body. Falling into Caity’s lap, she licked away at Caity’s stomach, the soft yet taut flesh seeming to provide an infinite supply of delicious champagne soaked into the skin. She went up to suck eagerly at Caity’s breasts, flavored as they were with the fine wine, and then Caity poured the dregs of the bottle directly into her mouth, following the dwindling waterfall of wine with her mouth—which paused, inches from Gentila’s mouth, as Gentila swallowed. As tired and satiated and laughingly inebriated as Caity was.

“I think I’ve hit my limit,” Caity said, slurring slightly. “And I know you’ve hit yours. You didn’t even notice the pill I dropped in the wine once I was done drinking.”

Gentila giggled, feeling silly, girlish. She couldn’t understand why Caity wasn’t kissing her. Their lips were only an inch apart. “Pill…?”

“Just a little neurotoxin,” Caity said, taking Gentila in her arms for a warm embrace, hands stroking her flesh from where it was smeared with sweat to where it was sticky with spirits. She dipped her head to kiss Gentila’s soft hair. “Don’t worry about it. It’s painless and it won’t take more than a few minutes. That’s the least I could do for such a good fuck.”

She let go of Gentila, dropping her to the bed as Caity stumbled to her feet. She threw on her clothes and grabbed a carryall from under the bed. Even on vacation, a spy had to travel light. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to check out early. Can’t be caught with a dead body in my room. You understand.”

She left Gentila in the supreme comfort of the warm bed, the soft covers, with even the dampness of spilled wine and spurted ecstasy not able to detract from her languor. It was only sheer will that allowed Gentila to roll out of the bed—knocking over the nightstand and lamp in the process—claw her way to her discarded clothes, pick up her clutch, and retrieve the tiny pillbox from the lining of the purse. Opening it, she dropped the pill inside into her mouth and dry-swallowed it. The antitoxin would surely cure her of any neurotoxin a spy agency would find worth weaponizing, but she’d be in no condition to pursue Caity for some time.

It had been a fiasco all around, but Gentila comforted herself by thinking that nothing would really come of it. Neither of them would admit to the sex, especially when Caity realized she really hadn’t managed to take her out, and of course Gentila wouldn’t admit to failing her mission. They would both simply report that they’d been unable to find their respective targets. It was the truth, more or less. Since neither of them had managed to kill the other, it was accurate to say they’d failed their missions, just not how. 

Everything had ended up exactly as if they’d never met in the first place: except that Gentila had found herself enjoying a free bottle of wine and an even freer brunette.