Date: Sun, 24 Jun 2001 14:39:41 -0400
From: lesli 99 <lesli99@hotmail.com>
Subject: Operation Queer Bait Pt 10

Jake would share what details of the bust he wanted to with me, and while
he didn't have to, he said he felt like I deserved to know.  For the first
time since we started working together I felt that he appreciated me for
more than just queer bait.

The Japanese had monitored enough of the conversations picked up by the
wire to know that something was being planned for the blonde.  Apparently
he was slipping them incoming shipping manifests for the military sea
transports docking at Naha.  They were using the information to plan rip
offs and hijackings on the pier.  It had worked quite well, and
investigators assigned to the case had suspected the blonde, who worked for
one of the shipping companies.  Routine questioning had spooked the kid,
and he was threatening to finger his Soko Gaki friends in return for
immunity from prosecution if they didn't pay him off to get out of town.
That hadn't sat well with them, and after he rejected a few of theirlow
ball counter offers, they had decided to get rid of him.  Permanently.  It
all came to a head that night.

Apparently Kino was the ring leader and, after making arrangements for me
to be sidetracked in the toilet with his friend, four of them held the boy
down while Kino broke a baseball bat and shoved it up the kid's ass.  That
was the scream I heard.  They were going to turn his intestines into mince
meat with the jagged end of the bat, and after they had their fun with him,
shoot him in the head.  Just like they did the transvestite.

They did know how to make a statement.

Only my message to Jake spoiled their plan.  In Jake and the cops came like
the cavalry and busted it up.  Kino and another two Japanese escaped in the
confusion and the Japanese police were trying to identify and track them
down.  They raided Kino's house and what they found there was mind numbing.
The Soko Gaki had detailed records on at least 14 Americans who frequented
the bar.  Names, rank, serial numbers, jobs, everything.  They were either
soliciting or black mailing at least 10 of the 14, and had plans to exploit
all 14.  My name was there, not much else except for where I worked and
what I did.  Jake's guess was that they would have tried to 'turn' me as a
supply of intelligence information from Torii.  So much for Kino's
affection.  It was all part of his act to gain my confidence and exploit
me.  And while I was crushed by the fact that he had just been using me, I
was comforted by the fact that the truth just may have saved my life.  I
was so pliant where Kino was concerned I'm sure I would have betrayed my
country for him.  Maybe Jake had been right.  My kind did make easy targets
for them.  We couldn't help it.

The bust had netted a large Soko Gaki 'cell' and probably put it out of
business.  It would take them years to recover from it.  All in all, a huge
feather in Jake's cap, and a huge accomplishment for his career.

But it spelled the end of the road for me.  At least on Okinawa.

"You're spoiled goods" Jake explained over a cup of coffee in his office
"you'll be on their hit list as soon as they figure out that it was you who
fingered them.  And they'll figure it out as soon as those guys in jail
begin circulating what happened thru the grapevine.  As soon as that guy
who's dick you nearly bit off gets out of the hospital he's going to rat to
his friends in jail for sure."  I remembered the taste of blood.  I knew it
hurt, and I was damned glad I did it.

"What...what do I do?"  I questioned.

"It's more like what do we do.  We got you into this, we'll get you out.  I
talked it over with the chief, and we both agreed that the best thing to do
is get you out of the far east before they can get to you.  The chief's on
to Europe.  They're interested in using you there to help clean up some
concerns they have."

"Like...like here?"  I asked.  Somehow I knew the answer before I
asked the question.

"Yeah, pretty much" he didn't sound very convincing.

"Jake...I can't do that anymore.  I mean, well, I mean I understand
what I agreed to, and I did it.  OK?  But I just can't go on deceiving GI
s.  I'd, well, I'd rather take the court marshal and be done with it.  At
least I could have my life back."

"What about the bad guys?"  I was surprised at how calmly he reacted to my
refusal.  I had expected him to rant and rave and threaten.

"What about them?"

"You wanna let the bad guys keep exploiting homos?  Getting them into
situations where the only way out is a long brig sentence or one between
the eyes?"

"Bullshit Jake.  You know that court marshalling gays, one at a time, isn't
going to get the bad guys.  You said it yourself, there were 14 guys
already in the clutches of the Soko.  How many of them were already being
exploited?  How long do you think it would take me to 'out' them.  One at a
time Jake.  One at a time.  I think you're going after the wrong end of the
food chain.  You should be busting the bad guys.  Then you wouldn't have to
worry about fairies being exploited now would you?"  I was serious.  This
experience had shook me to the point that I no longer believed it was the
gays 'fault'.  Bad guys were bad guys.  Period.

"Just settle down now.  We worked this thing with the only option we had.
You.  And we stumbled on to the Soko and that worked.  Europe is different.
It's not an island like Okinawa with as many servicemen and it doesn't have
to be worked the same way.  They've got a hell of a lot of bad guys there
and they have a better hook on who they are.  Are you telling me that you'd
go along with it if they targeted the bad guys instead of the faggots?  No
offence."

"None taken" I shot back "and yes.  That's the one and only way I would
agree."  My forcefulness seemed to take him aback, and I could see the
wheels turning in his head as he stared at me.

"And you would seriously consider taking a dishonorable discharge?"

"Damn straight I would."  I could see the worried look in his face now.
What was that all about?  What the hell did he care about one homosexual,
more or less.

"Look" he began in a low serious tone "I don't approve of what you
do...sex, I mean.  But I figure that's your problem.  To tell you
the truth, you're valuable to us.  What you've done, I mean, well it would
have taken us months, years maybe, to get inside an operation like that.
There's no way we could have done it without someone like you, someone who
can get inside and be trusted.  And the only way to be trusted in a
situation like that...."

"Is to be a genuine queer.  Like me, right?"

"Yeah, right" he admitted.

"And outing servicemen, that's addition, right?  One at a slow time.  But
getting enough information to bust the bad guys, well that's
multiplication, right?"

"Yeah, multiplication" he seemed to like the analogy.

"Well, I'll agree to cooperate on multiplication.  You can find somebody
else to work on your addition."  I was serious.  I don't know where this
resolve came from, but as long as I had it, I would use it.

"Awright.  I'll take it to the chief and see what he wants to do.  Can't
promise shit, but I'll give it my best."  Somehow I knew Jake enough to
believe he meant what he said.  And somehow I think Jake knew I meant what
I had said.

				    -*-

"Target just entered the lobby.  Looks like he's heading for the bar.  Perk
up Mary, you're on."  the voice in my earpiece jerked me back into the
present reality of today.  I was sitting in a London hotel bar, and my
target was on his way in.  I had work to do.

"Hold one.  Target's going to the head."  I relaxed and waited for an
update from the 'spotter' who was located behind the front desk, posing as
a hotel employee.

This was a far cry from the shoe string budget photo stings Jake ran.  This
was upscale and professional.  Amazing what money can buy when money's not
the object.  If taxpayers realized the expense involved in intelligence
gathering they would probably revolt.  We were sure going thru it like
water.

Jake had worked out the deal for me, I would relocate to Europe and
'cooperate' with intelligence gathering here.  Cooperate?  They had me by
the proverbial 'balls'.  The threat of a dishonorable discharge still hung
over me like the sword of Damocles, but the nature of the stings took on a
different character.  I was loaned out on temporary assignments to any and
all intelligence agencies of the US and allies to assist in 'special'
circumstances that required a person of my 'talents'.  Directly put, I was
useful in situations concerning targets with suspected homosexual,
bisexual, or bi curious tendencies.  I would, as one of my more poetic
handlers put it, 'boldly go where no man would go' to gain information,
incriminating or otherwise, in an effort to thwart the aims of certain
countries or organizations.  These stings were labeled 'Operation Queer
Bait' and my specialty was 'it takes one to catch one'.  Much like what I
had done for Jake, only we were chasing the really bad guys.

I had been in the service of my country for two years now and gone was the
innocent belief that targets were anything but targets.  They were business
to be dealt with.  And forgotten. Business only.

"Target's headed for the bar.  Show time" the voice crackled, signaling
that the wait was over.  "Black suit, looks like Armani, shoes black
loafers, probably Gucci.  Gold pinkie ring, looks expensive.You got a dandy
Mary."  I removed the tiny earpiece from my ear with one demure swipe of my
hand, palmed it, and had it in my pocket before he cleared the bar
entrance.  Just like I had been trained.  Practice makes perfect.

He was at least six feet tall, a little overweight as middle easterners can
be, with short, jet black hair.  His facial features were average, with a
pencil thin mustache that made him look like a bad guy.  But he was
dressed...well, he looked the part of money.

He was an air attache of the Libyan air force, Bin something or other,
in London for one of the 'diplomatic' visits he made every few months.
More like he met regularly to feed money and instructions to several
splinter IRA groups who operated in the UK.  But he had other interests, or
so my handlers seemed to think, and that's where I came in to the picture.
I was on loan to a combination operation by the CIA and MI5 for the purpose
of 'getting a peak into his bag', as the English put it, both literally and
figuratively.

The sexual innuendo couldn't be more clear.  His gaze swept over me as he
walked past on his way to the bar.  As his eyes met mine, my response
couldn't be more clear either, and I caught him glancing over his shoulder
as he sat at the bar sipping what appeared to be a gin and tonic.  I always
took the opportunity to return his stare, and before too long it was
obvious where this was heading.

"From the gentleman at the bar" the lisping waiter said as he sat a fresh
glass of champagne in front of me.

"Which one?" I played along.

"The butch Arab there in the Armani" he sounded breathless as he motioned
toward the mark.

"O god, he is good looking, isn't he?"  why not empathize with the poor
boy, he wasn't going to get any of the action tonight.  At least not any of
this action.

"Umhuh" he exaggerated, "good luck."

"Thanks" I said to the waiter, raising my glass in the direction of the bar
and mouthing the word again.  He nodded and turned back to his drink.

But not for long.  The crowd in the bar was ebbing and flowing as people
and groups came and went.  During the next lull, he made his way over to my
table.

"Care if I join you?"  he asked "I just hate to drink alone."

"Please do" I replied looking up at him with one of those 'I'm available'
looks.  I could be so obvious when I wanted to.

"I hope you don't mind" he began.  His accent was a comparatively mild for
a middle easterner, more like an actor.  "It's just that, well to be
honest, I noticed you sitting here alone.  And...I do dislike
drinking alone."

"To tell you the truth, I was tired of sitting here alone too.  And to be
honest, I don't like drinking alone either."

"Then it is settled.  Since neither of us like drinking alone, we'll have a
drink together.  American?"

"Canadian actually" I lied.  Everyone seemed to trust Canadians.

"Lovely country.  I've visited there several times.  What are you doing in
London?"

"Oh, just seeing the sights" I continued to lie.  I was good at that too.

"Ah yes, the sights.  But all by yourself?"

"Most of the time, yes."  I was trying to be coy.  It seemed to open up
more possibilities if I didn't have some pat storyline to follow.  I was
good at improvising.

"Ah, I see.  And when you're not alone?"  Now he was getting somewhere.

"I'm with...someone" I deliberately drew out the words to see if I could
pique his curiosity.  Apparently I did, as his eye brow went up
immediately.

"And so tonight...is it to be alone, or with someone?"

"Well, so far it's been alone.  But now, well...."  I let my
voice rise a half octave to accentuate the possibilities.

"Now you're with me" he finished the sentence for me "and since you seem to
enjoy fine champagne, could I offer you a night cap in my suite?  I'll have
a bottle sent up.  And I have a wonderful view of Hyde Park.  You could
enjoy the, uh, sights."

Bingo.  Time to real him in.

"Something tells me that the sights aren't all you have in mind."  I looked
him straight in the eye.  And winked.

"I had the feeling, when I first saw you sitting here, that you were the
kind of young man who might appreciate what I have in mind."

"Um..."  I sighed "I think, just maybe, you're right."

"Shall we?" he asked, standing and indicating toward the bank of elevators
just outside the bar entrance.

"Why not" I shot back emphatically, and we both laughed at the Laurel and
Hardy ness of the whole thing.

I ditched the earpiece radio in the potted plant next to the bar entrance
and nodded almost imperceptively to the 'bellman' who walked by, our
prearranged signal that I had made contact and was going 'under' with the
mark.  Under had several meetings, the first of which was that I had left
the radio behind and would have no other contact with my handlers.  I was,
in a word, on my own here.  Whatever happened next, was between the mark
and me, totally.  There was no monitoring now, I was expected to go with
him and get whatever information I could from the list of things my
handlers had briefed me on.  They had a list of wants.  I had to do my best
to fill that list.

But these were professionals.  They understood patience and that sometimes
you had to have a lot of it to work into a relationship necessary to get
all the questions answered.  'Getting the goods' as Jake called it.  Most
of these marks were very intelligent.  And very suspicious.  It may take
half dozen meetings to be at the point where I could ferret out all this
intelligence.  And that was the only part I still had trouble with.

Ever since my disastrous experience with Kino, I tried to distance myself
from the mark.  Not physically of course.  I had to respond physically.
But emotionally it was only about the pleasure sex brought.  No strings.
No attachment.  Just fulfilling my hedonistic tendencies for gratification,
both giving and getting.

I gave up trying to fool myself about what I was doing, and why, two years
ago.  I was good at the sex part of my job because I enjoyed it.  Being a
sexual plaything for men came natural because it was, at least for me.  I
wanted it, I was good at it, and I enjoyed it more than anything else in
life.  In fact, I couldn't seem to get enough of it, which had caused some
problems with a few of my handlers.  But I didn't let that bother me
anymore, I had learned to take it in stride.

The other part they taught me.  And they taught me well.  Lack of morals
seemed natural to me, and the deception, lying, and stealing suited me
fine.  I don't know if I expected to parlay these skills into a career or
not, but for now I was content to do what they wanted.

The suite was impressive, on the top floor of the hotel with a panoramic
view of Hyde Park, far below.  I showered and gave myself an anal douche
while we waited for room service to deliver a fresh bottle of champagne.  I
recognized the operative who delivered it and we both refrained from making
any kind of eye contact.

We sat on the couch, sipping champagne and watched the car lights passing
below us.  Hyde Park seemed to be a sea of darkness in a city alight.
Assad, as he called himself, prattled on about his many visits to London
and all the sights he had seen.  I played the attentive bimbo, making
polite conversation full of 'oohs' and 'aahs' as he talked on about
himself.  To tell you the truth, I could have cared less, and was near the
point of terminal boredom by the time he slipped his arm around my
shoulders.  That perked me up, and I responded by nestling my head on his
shoulder as he pulled me closer.  My hand went to his thigh in an
exploratory move that was accepted as it was offered.  He spread his legs
slightly and pulled my hand to his crotch, where I felt the stirring of his
excitement.  I ran my hand up and down the front of his trousers and felt
him stiffen in response to my attention.

Assad pushed my hand away gently as he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled
them down past his knees.  He wasn't wearing underwear and I was greated by
the sight of his massive cock, at least ten inches of uncut dark meat that
immediately set my mouth to watering in anticipation of what I knew lay
ahead.  I brought my hand up again and let my fingers play lightly down the
semi hard shaft toward the massive ballsack that lay below.

He would have none of this foreplay, and he pushed me roughly off the couch
and into the floor, where I knelt in front of him and helped him off with
his shoes and trousers.  As he spread his legs before me, I crawled between
them and turned my head to lick along the inside of his left thigh, working
my way slowly up until my tongue was at his pubic hair.  I licked and
kissed the soft skin beneath the hair as I worked my way to the base of his
penis, leaving a glistening trail of saliva as my tongue traced down the
center of his ballsack and separated the huge nuts where they rested on the
couch.  I slid my tongue under his ballsack and sucked one nut partially in
my open mouth.  The taste was enough to make me swoon, and I eagerly licked
and sucked on the mass in front of me.  Bringing a hand up, I cupped both
of them in it and lifted the sack off the couch to get more of the ball in
my mouth.  I used my tongue to caress it as my lips sucked more and more of
it inside.  The aroma of his manliness filled my nostrils and transported
me higher up the curve of sexual excitement.

Assad was, as I have come to recognize from experience, one of those 'real'
men.  The macho types who enjoy, no make that who need, to be in complete
charge during sex.  Those men who instruct, guide, and more importantly,
control every aspect of the act.  The kind of man who made being used
enjoyable.  I sensed that I was going to enjoy this.

Working my mouth back up the front of his sack to the base of his cock, I
extended my tongue to lick at the base, tasting the slightly acrid cologne
he seemed to be wearing down there.  I continued my licking, working slowly
up his cock shaft while keeping a light grip on his balls.

"Suck my dick, you whore" he instructed.  It excited me to be talked to
that way, and I didn't need to be told twice.  I brought my open mouth down
on the foreskin encased head and took the first two inches inside.  Now my
taste buds were on fire with the enjoyable sensation of finally having some
of this monster inside my mouth, and I worked my tongue in tiny cirlces
around the top to coax the head from it's sheath.  Imagine my delight when
the head popped free of the foreskin and increased the total length by
another inch.  This man had a big cock, and it was going to take all of my
considerable talent to take all of it.  But try I did, and within a few
minutes of determined cocksucking, I had over half of it inside, the head
just past my gag reflex and into my open throat.  I paused for a second,
gulping air thru my nose, before pushing down hard and forcing another few
inches down my thoat.  As I continued to impale myself on this rigid hunk
of man meat, more and more of it slipped thru my lips and the thought
occurred to me that the head was at least half way to my stomach now.  As
my air gave out, I slowly raised my head, withdrawing til just the head was
in my mouth.  His cock was glistening wet from a combination of saliva and
precum, and as I plunged down again, disstending my throat in the process,
I was able to take him all inside til my nose was mashed in the rough kink
of his pubic hair.  As if in appreciation, Assad brought his hands down to
the nape of my neck and massage it as my head slowly bobbed up and down in
a deepthroated blowjob.

He let me suck him for a few minutes more, then pulled my head up, stood,
and walked to the bedroom.  Without a word, he led me.  Without a word, I
followed him, til I stood in the doorway of the massive master bedroom.  A
large cirular bed, raised of the floor at least three feet, dominated the
center of the room, with another set of curving windows facing in the
direct of Harrod's department store.  As I surveyed the opulense that was
to be our playpen tonight, he stripped.  He was a big man, not fat, big.
At least six feet tall, with a fairly well proportioned body.  His North
African complexion presented a start contrast to the creamy decor of the
bedroom, and accentuated his size.  His most prominent feature stood
proudly in front of him, rock hard and, by my estimation, twelve beautiful
inches of solid cock.

Over the last two years my tastes had expanded to the point that I
appreciated all aspects of sex with men, but the sight of his massive cock
caused my ass to twitch in anticipation, and I knew that a blowjob was just
a preliminary to the main event.  I could feel my spincter relaxing in self
defense and a warm glow creeping up my entire anal cavity as I imagined
giving up what he wanted.

"How do you want me?"  I asked, slipping out of my robe and letting it drop
to the floor at my feet.

"On the bed, here" he replied, indicating the edge farthest from the
windows.  I stepped over the robe and sat on the edge as instructed.  The
spread felt cool against my naked bottom.  Assad ripped open a condom pack
and handed the contents to me as he stepped forward, his stiff cock just
inches from my face.  I positioned the condom in my mouth so the tip was
facing inward, and brought it to the end of his cock.  As he stepped in
toward me, I pushed the roll down his shaft with my lips as more and more
of his penis slipped inside my mouth.  When the tip reached the entrance to
my throat, I pulled back and rolled the rest of it on him with my fingers.

"You've talent" he said, sounding impressed with my oral prowess.

"Practiced" I said simply.

"And this talent" he continued "at what price?"

"Price?"  I tried to sound innocent.

"All English boy-whores ask for money." he sounded so sure of himself that
I couldn't resist that I couldn't resist the temptation to play cat and
mouse with him.

"Ha.  You've obviously not frequented the parks and cottages much.
Besides, I'm not English, remember?  I'm Canadian."

"I've been to the parks.  I know what goes on there.  But this is not a
simple blow job.  This is to be a fuck like your bitch ass has never had
before."  God, this guy was conceited.  But I had to admit that by the size
of his cock, I hoped he was right.

"Well, if that's true, how could I possibly ask for money?"  I said,
smiling up at him as I laid back on the bed, spreading my legs as I did.

Assad spread lube on the condom as I adjusted myself on the bed til my ass
was just at the edge.  I pulled my legs up to rest my feet on the edge as
he moved to me.  He lifted my legs at my knees and pushed back til they
were folded on either side of my chest and my pink button was tilted up at
an inviting angle.  He bent slightly at the knees to bring his penis in
line with my hole, and the sensation of cold lube on my hot pucker made me
catch my breath.

I had been fucked regularly during the past two years, both on and off the
job, and took medium to large cocks without a problem.  But Assad's cock
was big, probably the largest I had ever had, and the sharp pain that
originated in my sphincter and ran down my legs caused me to cry out.  But
it only took a brief second for me to relax.  I had learned that pushing
out helped ease the pain and help me relax, and before I could cry out
again, the pain was replaced by the first, unmistakable signs of
acceptance.  My sphincter relaxed and stretched to receive him as he slid a
few inches inside me.  He hesitated, pulled out slightly, and then pushed
slowly back in, first an inch, then two, then maybe six.  I could feel my
muscles giving way quickly to the point that they weren't effectively doing
anything but providing friction as the lube worked its magic.

I moaned in pleasure as my insides reacted to the all too familiar feeling
of a man invading my most inner sanctum.  I could feel myself letting go,
losing all control.  Focusing only on the pleasure Assad's cock unlocked in
me.  I couldn't think a single rational thought as I concentrated only on
giving him pleasure as he pleasured me.

Some people say that queers are born, not trained.  If anyone was born to
do this, it was certainly me, and as the waves of passion and pleasure
washed over me, I couldn't imagine wanting anything as much as this.

Assad pushed my legs back until my knees were nearly at my head, thrusting
his cock in and out of me faster and faster.  His thrusts reached far
inside me now, and I began to feel the ultimate stimulation as his cock
head repeatedly brushed against my sensitive prostate.  He would bring me
to an anal orgasm, I knew it, and I welcomed it when it came, sending wave
after wave of the most intense pleasure I craved.  My climax sent a thick
stream of semen arcing across my stomach and drenching me in its warm
wetness.  I didn't come down, even after I shot my load, as Assad furiously
fucked me til, after what seemed like hours, he stiffened and I felt the
warmth as he filled the condom with his ejaculate.  He took another dozen
or so thrusts until he finally softened and pulled out, being careful to
make sure the condom came out too.

"I want your cum" I whispered as he lay, panting, beside me.  At first he
looked puzzled, but then a look of understanding seemed to spread across
his face as he came up on his knees beside my head.  pulling the condom
off, and offered me his wet cock.  I took it quickly in my mouth cleaned
the tasty remnants of his orgasm from it, enjoying the taste of his
manhood.

"More?" he asked as I pulled his cock from my mouth and lay back.

"Umhuh" I sighed, breathless, and watched him dangle the condom, upside
down, over my mouth.  As I opened wide and stuck out my tongue, Assad
squeezed the condom between his fingers and pulled down, forcing a thick
stream of cum out the open end and into my waiting mouth.  As air mixed
with his semen, it gave it a strong, rancid taste.  From experience I had
learned that taking cum from a man's penis into my mouth was more of a
sensation than a taste.  But letting it stand for a time enriched the taste
to near disgusting levels.  I had developed a 'taste' for really strong
semen to the point that I often jacked off in a glass and ate it later.

Who says you can't have your fuck and eat it too?


To be continued
lesli99@hotmail.com