No Rest for the Wicked
Cara Capello, British government agent, professional seductress and nymphomaniac, and – although the UK government might kindly describe her job title as ‘spy’ – highly competent and efficient assassin, tried to concentrate on the news article she was scrolling though on her phone. She was impeded in this usually straight forward feat of hand-eye coordination by her partner, Meg, who, at that moment, was delicately licking around her vulva.
Cara groaned quietly and tried to focus her attention on the first paragraph on the news story – which she had read at least four times already without taking in a single word. Her body stiffened, as Meg’s playful tongue tickled squirmed downwards and began to trace the rim of Cara’s asshole, and she exhaled heavily through her nose. From under the covers she heard Meg giggle mischievously.
The article was about the recent spate of bombings in London and other cities around the UK. That was as much as Cara had been able to ascertain thus far. She managed to take in another paragraph whilst, under the bedclothes, she heard Meg sucking on her fingers.
It seemed that there had been another bombing over night – a big one – on a building belonging to the Ministry of Transport. The papers and news outlets were blaming ‘fanatics’. Just who these fanatics were or what they were so bloody fanatical about the press didn’t seem to be able to say, but the main thing was that they were fanatical.
Cara had never really understood fanatics, radicals, zealots, or whatever else you wanted to call them. She felt that people who had the sort of free time that allowed them to organise marches, write zippy chants, knock up homemade explosives and then blow unlucky pedestrians to smithereens were lucky indeed. She was certain that, what with juggling families and careers and social lives, a lot of people would be delighted to find themselves with the sort of time that it took to become truly fanatical.
Cara closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the mattress with her free hand as Meg’s impish fingers slid smoothly into her ready pussy.
“You naughty girl,” she hissed. Meg’s only response was to kiss her lightly on the clit, sending a twinge of pleasure running through the length of her body like a red-hot wire.
As Meg started to lap at her clitoris, simultaneously fingering her slowly and deeply, Cara saw that at least seven government employees had been killed in the most recent blast. There was a line or two hinting that authorities suspected some sort of mastermind or common thread.
A trickle of apprehension ran down Cara’s spine from the back of her brain, like an icy rivulet of foreboding, and landed in her stomach where it blended oddly with the building, breathless lust in her groin. Like most media companies, the website she was browsing at that moment didn’t really ever run ‘news’ items. It ran ‘olds’. People liked reading about stuff they already knew was the thing, and the government had teams of people whose sole job was to make sure that what they read was what they expected and were comfortable with. If the general public ever actually got told what was going on in their country, there would be an uproar that’d stay up for quite some time.
She closed her eyes and squirmed as Meg spread her pussy lips and ran her tongue in and out of her holiest of holies, before burying her nose in Cara’s cunt as she fucked her asshole with her fingers.
Unable to fight the ministrations of her ravenous lesbian lover any longer, Cara dropped her phone and pulled back the covers so that she could see her pixy-haired paramour working her magic. At some point, whilst she had been giving Cara a dose of morning head, Meg had removed her top. She looked up when Cara removed the duvet and gave her a wicked grin. Her mouth was ringed with a mixture of pussy juice and saliva as a fat kid’s might be with sugar after they’ve been into a box of doughnuts.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Cara purred.
“’Scuse me, but you’ve interrupted my breakfast,” Meg replied, pouting. She licked some of Cara’s wetness off of her lips and said, “And it’s my absolute fave.” Gazing deep into Cara’s eyes she gently fingered her asshole, before pulling her fingers out and sucking them exaggeratedly. “Yum!” she said.
Cara gazed hungrily at Meg. “Aren’t you going to share with me, you mean bitch?”
Meg bit her lip as if she’d just been scolded, put her hand between her own legs and started to play with herself, moaning and breathing heavily – all the while looking at Cara. She pulled her hand back out and it was slick with her own desire. She reached out and ran her fingers across Cara’s lips. Cara opened her mouth and her lover slipped her fingers inside so that she could taste her pussy.
Cara sucked on Meg’s fingers, relishing the familiar musky taste.
“Come up here and kiss me, Megan,” she said in a sultry voice.
Meg flowed up the front of Cara’s body, her nipples rubbing up against Cara’s bare stomach. Cara could feel her partner’s soaking wet pussy against her thigh as she straddled her leg.
They kissed, tongues entwined like a couple of the more randy, lascivious types of python. Cara cupped one of Meg’s juicy tits and squeezed the thick nipple. Meg groaned into Cara’s own mouth.
“Fuck me,” Cara said, softly. “Scissor me until I beg for fucking mercy.”
Meg’s hand crept back down to Cara’s pussy. She gave it a few playful slaps, which caused Cara to gasp and crush her lips harder into Meg’s.
Meg reached into her bedside drawer and extracted a large purple dildo. She started sucking on it, lubricating it with her own spit.
Cara nodded, looking into her partner’s eyes.
And that is when the phone rang.
Without looking at it, Cara knew that it was work. The intuition, that had kept her alive on more than one occasion, lit up like a warning light in her head. The article that she’d just been reading, blurring through her mind’s eye.
Someone was for the noose.
