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One of the sexiest things a man could do to himself.

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NICE

I can really dig that.

He was embarassed by it and tried in some pics to blur it out. Dope.

It was a cool day.  The breeze was off of the mainland, chilling the air.  But, this didn't matter.  It was the final test day for which cadets would be admitted into our secret training program to become undercover agents.

     Each trainer was assigned two young cadets.  They had already undergone rigorous physical, mental and emotional challenges and out of over 300 candidates, only 10 remained.  Yet, we had one final test.  In order to become a true agent of our sector of the agency, you had to prove that you could kill indiscriminately. 

     I spent 3 hours training my two cadets on how to wield a sword.  They were already tired from the long night and their strong, dirty-covered bodies were sore and fatigued, yet this was it, the final training and final test. 

     They were both dedicated to the training and gave me their all.  They even offered each other advice on how the other could have better blocked certain moves, etc.  Both were very loyal to their country, thus, their comraderie to each other was strong.

     The two seemed to get along very well and I would be proud to have both on my unit, but I knew at least one of them would fail.  After the three hours were up, the two judges arrived.  

     The two were handed real swords to replace their dull practice swords.  They were then ordered to fight to the death.  Only one would be permitted to train with me in the field.  

     The two faced each other and the swords began swinging.  Even in their exhausted and fatigued state, both men showed great endurance and stamina.  They fought as if they were fresh from a rest.  The cold, the pain, the fatigue was gone.  All that was left was the true warriors within.  And they came at each other with a vengeance.

     The clanking sounds of their sword lasted for about 10 minutes until both went for a kill at the same time.  Each one buried their swords to the hilt in the others' gut.  Their beautiful abs tightened hard around the blade and they stepped back and stared triumphantly at their accomplishment.

     They remained standing, the blades still protruding from their abs.  Turning toward the judges, they awaited approval.  The judges smiled, pleased at the battle.  

        After I had killed the lieutenant, it wasn't long before there was an investigation.  My alibi stuck like solid granite.  With several witnesses and even video evidence that I was elsewhere, the investigators were quick to rule me out as a suspect.

          I got to play the wailing victim who lost his gay lover.  One of the younger investigators, who I could tell was another one of those newbies from intel, bought it big time.  I could tell from the looks he gave me that he was intrigued, even captivated, by my poor woeful circumstance.

          I even made it a point to break out in tears and hug him in my "grief".  I could tell from his response (or lack thereof) that he was interested in "comforting" me.  I pulled up the bottom of my shirt to dry my teary eyes and his glance went immediately to my washboard abs.  Yep, he was indeed interested.

          I was put up in a hotel room, as the apartment was now a crime scene.  When the chief detective had asked for someone to drive me there, I glanced over at the handsome young investigator and he was quick to volunteer.

          I invited him in and he agreed.  He stayed with me most of the night.  (He did have to return to the office for debriefing, but was very quick to return.  I guess, he didn't want to leave me alone in my "sorrows".)

           The night was hot and lustful.  The aphrodisiacs I slipped him went entirely unnoticed and made him even more passionate.  I could tell he had been holding himself back from relationships like most rookies.  This only makes them want it more when the opportunity arises.

          After several hours of love-making (plus a few tranquilizers), he was out-cold asleep in my bed.  I grabbed his car keys and went out to his car.  Sure enough, his computer was hidden in a secret compartment.  (You CIA operatives are so predictable.)

          I brought it in and began scrolling through the files.  Jackpot.  He had some clearances that gave me all their information on members of my team.  The fools had tracked me to up to 5 months ago.  (Looks like I was way ahead of them.)

          I quickly downloaded all of the intel, plus even got the identities of some of their undercover agents.  I returned the computer to the car.  It was almost time for him to wake up.  He had to be at work in an hour.

          I started a fresh pot of coffee.  The aroma filled the hotel room, waking him from his slumber.  He pulled on his underwear and came to the table.  It seems he was told he could come in later today.  Looks like we were going to have some time together.

          We sat and talked for awhile.  He knew from my interviews yesterday, that I had taken the exams to get into the CIA but didn't pass them.  We talked about the recruit training and testing program.  It seems we had a few experiences in common.

          I asked him if working for the CIA was all it was made out to be.  He said it wasn't.  He began complaining about his superiors and the bureaucracy.  I gave him some advice, as my record indicated that my father was a high-level operative.  

          The young man told me how difficult it was to get his superiors to accept his analysis.  He had tried to convince them that my boyfriend's death was a KGB hit, but they were all so convinced it was merely a burglary.  (Well, this was informative indeed.)

          He explained how the kill was in the typical spot for KGB training, especially from some sicko agent named "#####" (sorry, I'm not foolish enough to give my identity up here.)  He said the only difference was the knife that was used.  He said that it was usually a special-issued blade that the assassins received. 

          I told him that I knew exactly what he was talking about.  I got a blade out of my suitcase.  One that my "father" had given me.  He young officer was very intrigued.  I let him hold it and examine the craftsmanship of it.  He even tickled his bellybutton with the tip.  (It seems this may have been some sort of fetish for him.)

          When he handed it back to me, I thrust it straight into his gut.  I covered his screams with a passionate kiss.  His eyes were wide and his muscles quivered from the shock of the blade tearing into his guts.  I placed my hand on his chest and could feel his heart pounding.

I do this from time to time...

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