Bait and Switch

The two men, one older, in his fifties, and one younger, in his mid-twenties, but both fit, handsome men, were playing billiards in the early, quiet hours of the morning in the dimly lit billiards room of the large, colonial manor CIA safehouse in Port Deposit, Maryland. The early-American plantation estate perched high on a bluff overlooking the Susquehanna River, where Interstate-95 crossed it at the Tidings Bridge. The house itself was viewable from the northbound section of the bridge. Few could imagine that, exposed to the major East Coast north-south international highway like this, that the mansion was a CIA safehouse.

Both men had claimed they couldn’t sleep after the day’s intelligence agencies conference in the safehouse and both had come down from their rooms, still in their sleeping attire, to mess around until drowsiness sent them back upstairs to their solitary beds. The older man, Sam, from the CIA, wore a silk robe and briefs, and the younger man, Cory, a contract technician for the conference, just had on silk sleeping shorts.

Sam was the taller, bulkier, albeit trim and hard-bodied, of the two and in obvious command. His body was battle tested, more than one pocked bullet wound showing on his muscular torso. Cory, a smaller, slimmer ginger-haired young man, was male-model beautiful, his cut body smooth and pristine.

The two danced around the table, silently, in slow, fluid motion, taking their shots at their turn, Sam obviously more experienced at this. Pausing occasionally to sip from cut crystal glasses of Scotch and murmur something to each other, Sam would lean in and touch Cory on the hip or on a nipple, taking the young man’s lips with his briefly before pointing his pool cue at the table again. It was clear that they were intimates. Sam also had a cigar going that was sending curls of smoke up from the billiards table. They played like they had all the time in the world for the game—and that the game was just preliminary to another, more intimate, game. They were there to engage in more than pool. It was quite possible that, when they went upstairs, it wouldn’t be because they were drowsy and it wouldn’t be to solitary beds.

The men were here for the preliminary meeting with the bid winner for a hush-hush intelligence equipment project that all of the U.S. intelligence agencies had a hand in—the CIA; DIA, the Defense Intelligence Agency; NSA, the National Security Agency; the FBI, the Federal Bureau of Investigation; the various armed service agency intelligence branches; and even Homeland Security. General Henry Holdings, from the DIA, was chairing the conference. Alexsei—Alec—Chernoff of the Chernoff Institute in Princeton, New Jersey, the company that had won the bid, represented the company he owned and headed. The project was to develop a nondescript commercial van-looking vehicle that could drive down a street and image the contents of everything, the vehicles and first couple of stories of every building, it passed, providing identification of simply everything it saw, including, when it was connected to an individual IDing program, the specific people it imaged. Elements that could be used in explosive devices would pop out on the scrutiny screens. The images of the people were automatically sent through the international consortium of facile identification files to finger known terrorists in real time.

Young Cory Gordon was not attending the conference as a participant. He, a civilian engaged by General Holdings, had been brought in to keep the computer support and audiovisual equipment up and running. He didn’t attend all of meetings. He had clearances, but they didn’t go all the way up to the level of some of the discussions that were being conducted.

As the two moved around the table, they drew closer and closer together, until, as Cory was bending over the table to take a shot, the taller Sam was close behind him, hovering over him, his right hand on Cory’s hip, and his left hand gliding around to the waistband on the young man’s sleeping shorts and then down under the waistband in front and lower, to cup the young man’s balls. Moaning, Cory, who had known they were building up to this, held there momentarily, savoring Sam’s hefting, rolling, and squeezing of his balls, until he turned his face to Sam’s and the two men went into a deep kiss. They lingered there longer, swaying against each other, Cory nestling his buttocks into Sam’s groin, with Sam stroking the young man’s cock into erection. Cory reached back, pulled down Sam’s briefs inside the older man’s robe, the sash of which had unknotted, and the robe flared open. He found Sam’s cock, in erection, and the two stroked each other.

At length, Sam grasped the smaller man’s torso at the sides and pulled him up onto the billiards table. Cory raised his arms and grasped the edge of the other side of the table, while, pulling the young man’s sleeping shorts off his legs, Sam lowered his face to plaster it in Cory’s crack. The young man moaned and languidly writhed under the older, larger, more powerful man, as Sam ate his ass out. When Cory was prepared, Sam came up onto the edge of the billiards table on his knees, planting them on each side of Cory’s hips. He took Cory’s billiards cue from him and moved it over the young man’s chest, using it to raise Cory’s torso a bit. Cory dug his fists into the green felt of the table surface. Sam mounted the young man’s ass from above and behind. Cory tensed and panted, huffing as Sam worked his thick erection in.

Mounted on his ass on top of the billiards table, Sam fucked the younger ginger top to an ejaculation—and, eventually, to an afterglow second one. Sam was a big man with a big cock. Cory was small and slim hipped. He indicated the taxing stretching by the big man’s commanding shaft by his deep moans and his muffled exclamations of pain-pleasure.

Sam was a virile, vigorous man. Halfway through the fuck, Sam turned the young man onto his back on the table, being able to maintain purchase inside him by the length and thickness of his shaft. Cory hooked his ankles on the older man’s shoulders, turned his face toward the door into the adjacent lounge, and registered the pleasure of the cock work on his face. Leaning over him, Sam grasped the ends of the billiards cue and pressed the stick into Cory’s throat as he thrust, holding the young man captive to his mastery. Cory gagged at the pressure of the cue against his throat and momentarily scrabbled at and beat on Sam’s chest with his fists, but the older, stronger man was overpowering, and Cory collapsed under him, opening his stance to full vulnerability and surrendered totally.

This was how the CIA’s Sam Winterberry took his men—roughly, brutally, and totally.

The stroking went on for twenty minutes or more, Sam turning the young man onto all fours and fucking him like a dog, before he tensed, jerked, and came . . . and then tensed, jerked, and came again. Cory had already come, stroked off by his own hand, and, at the last, was only held up by Sam’s left hand palming his belly and his right cupping the young man’s chin.

If the two men thought they were the only ones awake and downstairs in the CIA safehouse mansion at that time of the morning, they were wrong. Alec Chernoff also had been unable to sleep and had come down to the lounge connected to the billiards room by open double doors in search of Scotch. He had been sitting in the dark shadows of the lounge, facing the billiards room, when Sam and Cory had arrived and switched on a couple of dim sidelights in adjoining room. Chernoff had dozed off in the shadows of an enveloping wing chair when the lights coming on in the billiards room and the low-voiced conversation of the two nocturnal men woke him.

He sat there, watching and sipping what was left of his Scotch. When the scene became sexy in the other room, Chernoff pulled his engorging cock out of the fly of his sleeping shorts, and, where Sam and Cory had every reason to think it was just the two of them having sex in the early hours of the morning, Chernoff’s masturbating of himself while watching Cory get fucked on the table meant they were having a threesome.

The two, Sam and Cory, left the billiards room by a door into the hall rather than through the lounge, where they hardly could have avoided seeing a satisfied-looking Alec Chernoff slouched in a wing chair, flaccid cock in hand, cum dotting the silk of the sleeping shorts on his thighs.

Sam went to his second-floor room in one wing of the old house and Cory went to a room on the same floor, but in the other wing of the mansion, rather than to the former servant’s room he’d been assigned in the attic. The door to the room was unlocked, and he slipped in. The lighting was dim, the curtains to the two windows overlooking the Susquehanna being pulled apart and the predawn light of a nearly full moon streaming into the bedroom. The bed was a large four-poster, with a curtain-draped canopy frame. General Holdings, a strongly built man of a bit too much meat on the bones at his mid-fifties age, was lying on his back, snoring. He was naked. He had been in a deep sleep when Cory had left him to go downstairs, so he probably was completely unaware of the young man’s tryst with Sam.

Slipping off his sleeping shorts, Cory crawled up on the bed and knelt between the general’s legs, taking the man’s flaccid cock in his mouth. Moaning, the general slowly came into consciousness as his cock stiffened under the ministrations of the young ginger-top. It was obvious that Cory’s appearance and attentions didn’t come as a surprise to the general, and as the younger man gave him head, the older man reached down and ran his fingers through the auburn curls on Cory’s head. At length, breathing heavily, and whispering, “Now, now. Ride it now,” he lifted Cory up and moved the smaller body up his until Cory was saddled on his pelvis. Cory reached down, placed the head of the now-erect cock at his hole, slowly descended on it, and languidly rode the cock into the dawn, edging the older man off when Cory sensed he was building to an ejaculation so that the next build would to higher into the realm of pleasure and need.

When General Holdings came, it was prodigiously and with a jerking motion, grunting, and a little cry to ecstasy that no other person, either male or female, could take him to like Cory could.

* * * *

The next morning, finding Cory sitting at a remote table by himself in the dining room, Chernoff appeared at his side. “Mind if I join you?”

Showing surprise, Cory looked out into the room, assuring himself that the head of the company assigned this project was choosing to sit with him over the opportunity to sit with any number of intelligence community brass. “Yes, certainly,” he said, his voice tentative. “I’m not a participant, though, I hope you realize. I’m just technical support. We couldn’t talk much about the project.”

“It’s not the project I’d like to talk with you about,” Chernoff said. “You’re Cory, aren’t you? I’ve seen you around, setting up and working on the computer equipment.”

“Yes, but that’s all I’m here for. I’m not a participant at the conference.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s all you’re here for,” the man said, giving Cory a little smile, which the young man didn’t appear to pick up on.

Cory continued his own thought. “DIA is sponsoring the conference and their audiovisual guy got sick at the last moment. I know General Holdings and he asked me to substitute. I have most of the needed clearances, but not all of them, so I try to stay out of the way most of the time.”

“But you seem to know what you’re doing, both with the equipment and with what we’re discussing,” Chernoff said. “I’ve been watching you.” He’d been watching Cory do much more than working with the computer equipment, but he said nothing about that beyond the hint he’d dropped and Cory hadn’t picked up on. “You know much more about this business than just to keep computers running, I think. What else do they have you doing at DIA? What other services do you do for General Holdings?”

“I’m a contractor. I don’t work for DIA,” Cory said, with a laugh. “Well, I’m not on staff at DIA, I mean. As I said, I just know General Holdings personally and he asked me to step in. I do know the business, though, and am only contracting until I can find a position.”

“And you’re getting enough work as a contractor?”

“Barely,” Cory admitted, not mentioning that he made pretty good money overall when his side job as rent-boy, which is how he met General Holdings, was added in.

“What’s your education?”

“I finished my PhD in virtual reality at Georgia Tech last semester,” Cory said, “It’s a really specialized field, though, so it isn’t that easy to find a career fit. So, yes, although I can’t listen to much of what’s discussed on this project, I know what it’s about, what use it could be put to, and how it’s being done.”

Chernoff whistled. “Better than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I was going to offer you a job just based on how well you were supporting this conference, but now I’ll have to relook at the project staffing. I’m sure I can offer you a better job.”

“You’re offering me a job?”

“I have to take a look at the project and the staffing, but, yes, maybe so. Here’s my card.” He took out a business card and scribbled on the back. “Think about it. If you’re willing to relocate to Princeton and want to work at Chernoff, call the number on this card and ask for Murriel Gladstone. Tell her I told you to call. Set up an interview.”

Cory was showing a dazed look as Chernoff stood. He leaned down and stroked the young man’s forearm briefly and gave him a look with his eyes that could be taken to mean that more than a job was being offered, but this connection was seemingly coming straight out of the blue, so Cory could be forgiven if he didn’t pick up on the vibes until Chernoff got explicit.

“I’m well acquainted with General Holdings too. I know what he likes. And I think you’re good friends with that CIA guy, Winterberry, too. I could be a good friend of yours as well—in the same way they are. It would be quite profitable for you if you pleased me.”

Cody blushed and his attention went from the card to the tall, trim man walking away from him and approaching a table of intelligence agency bigwigs with a smile and his hand out.

* * * *

The sectional sofa facing the ocean through a wall of glass in the rental beach cottage in an older section of New Jersey’s Monmouth Beach included a lounge bed that Cory Gordon and General Holdings were finding convenient. Holdings was on his back and Cory was suspended over him crab style, facing up at the ceiling, although looking out across the deck and beach to the ocean, while Holdings grasped his waist and raised and lowered the younger man on his cock. Cory had rented the beach cottage for a getaway with Holdings for a week, although the general was only able to be there from Sunday night to today, Wednesday. He had to leave to return to Washington by mid-afternoon. His son has a high school baseball game Thursday night in Arlington, Virginia, that the general had promised to attend.

So, they had only three days together of a seven-day rental, but they had fucked the entire time. They’d even gone out on the beach in the night and fucked there. The general didn’t manage to get off the leash often and couldn’t get enough of the younger ginger-haired computer expert who he’d first met at a gay bar tavern near base at Fort Bragg down in Georgia four months earlier. Cory had been a sweet lay, and he’d been yielding to everything the general wanted to do with him. He said “yes” to everything and Holdings was smitten with him. But he’d only been able to get away for three days when Cory suggested they spend days together rather than just a few stolen hours and that Cory would make all of the arrangements.

Cory was a surfer, and the surfing was good here. There, in fact, was a stand just next door on the beach that rented and sold surfboards and all of the other stuff that went with the sport. The business was owned by a cute guy about Cory’s age who also gave surfing lesson. It seemed he might be gay too, because he’d been ogling Cory when the young man and the general had suspended their sexual athletics long enough for Cory to come out on the beach during the day, and Cory was fairly sure the guy had caught snatches of views of the general doing pushups on him. Holdings was still in military fit when it came to pushups.

“I really feel bad about having to leave so soon,” the general said after they’d fucked and come out on the deck to cool down with a beer.

“No problem,” Cory said, his gaze going over to the surfer’s shack next door to find that the hunk of a guy there was looking at him again. The two shared a smile that the general didn’t see. The guy at the surfer shack popped his tongue in his cheek and showed his hands to Cory behind Holdings’s back. He made an O with a thumb and forefinger and slipped the middle finger of his other hand in and out of the O. He couldn’t have been more suggestive than that. Cory smiled back at him.

“I wanted to get some surfing in anyway and haven’t had a chance to do that yet,” he said to the general. “We’ve spent the whole time in the sack.”

“That’s because you’re sex on a stick. I can’t get enough of you,” Holdings said, leaning into Cory and taking his mouth in a kiss. And he apparently wasn’t exaggerating about not getting enough because, as they kissed, his hand snaked under the waistband of Cory’s Speedo, all that the young man was wearing, and he grasped Cory’s cock. Cory returned the favor, and the two slouched there on deck chairs practically on the beach and jacked each other off.

Cory looked over to the surf shack and confirmed that the hunk holding station there was, indeed gay—and interested. He had his cock out and was watching Cory and the general do each other and he was stroking himself as well.

Cory and the guy—his name was Nick, short for Nikolai—got together not more than an hour after General Holdings left that afternoon. The surf was up, so Cory went out to make some runs there for the first time that week. When he was leaving the water and walking up the beach toward the rental house, with his surfboard under his arm, Nick, just in a Speedo, appeared from nowhere and fell in step behind him. Cory turned and smiled at him, which seemed to be all Nick needed. At the steps to the deck, Nick took the board from Cory and propped it up against the railing. Cory continued on into the house. Nick followed him.

Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Cory walked up to the foot of the lounge bed in the sectional in the living room and stood there. Nick came in close behind him, palmed his belly, and kissed him in the hollow of his neck. Cory turned his face to Nick’s for a deep lip lock. Then he was squirming a bit, because Nick’s hands had gone to work. His left hand went under the waistband of the Speedo in front, grasped Cory’s cock, and stroked it. The fingers of his right hand went under the waistband in back, snaked into the young man’s crack, and found and penetrated his ass. Cory loosened right up and the finger sank beyond the knuckle and moved in and out.

At last Cory broke his silence. “Kind of go right to it, don’t you?” he said.

“I heard you tell that old guy it’s just been him all week so far and you haven’t had time to surf and other stuff.”

“That old guy is really, really good,” Cory said. “And he’s my boss.”

“I’m better,” Nick countered with and he reached under Cory’s cock and gave his balls a roll and a squeeze. “And I can boss you too, if that’s what floats your boat.”

Cory jerked and muttered, “Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Nick said.

Moaning, Cory bent over the lounge bed, pressing his fists into the surface of the sofa. “Do it.”

Nick stripped him of his Speedo, spent some time on his knees behind Cory with his face buried in Cory’s butt crack, and then rose, covered Cory from behind and above, mounted and penetrated him, and fucked the shit out of him.

Nick stayed for dinner and Nick stayed for breakfast—and then through Thursday and Friday. He had another guy working at the surf shack, so he could spend more time here with Cory and on top of him than he did next door at his business. By Friday night, Nick had said he had to go to his father’s place in Princeton, New Jersey, for the weekend, but he hadn’t had enough of Cory yet.

“Can you come to Princeton with me for the weekend?”

“I don’t see why not,” Cory answered.

Nick, who had been fucking Cory on the rental cottage’s bed in a side split, turned the ginger-haired cutie on his back, hooked Cory’s ankles on his shoulders, and fucked him for the fourth time that day. Nick was every bit as randy, virile, and vigorous as General Holdings had been—and he did pushups on Cory’s body like a drill sergeant. Cory brought out the hardness and arousal in men. It was as if he had some special pheromones that men just couldn’t get enough of.

And he was so willing and yielding. He couldn’t say “no.” I certainly didn’t say “no” to anything Nick wanted.

* * * *

“I know you, don’t I? It’s Cody from the Port Deposit conference, isn’t it?”

Aleksei Chernoff stood up from the lounge chair on the lanai by the pool of his Princeton Home. He was wearing just a red Speedo and he was in terrific shape. Although in his early fifties, it was obvious that he still emphasized sports and fitness. He was trim, while being muscular, and hard bodied, and the gray at his temples and dominating in the curls following the curve of his bulging, but firm, pecs probably made him more distinguished and sexy at his age than he had been twenty years earlier. His waist had thickened, but not lost its tone. He was a Zeus of a man.

“Mr. Chernoff?” Cory asked? “It’s Cory. Cory Gordon, but I’m surprised you remembered me at all from the conference. Princeton. And when Nick mentioned his father owned a tech think tank, I guess I should have made the connection. He must have told me his last name but when he did—”

“You must have been paying attention to something else,” Chernoff said. He’d put his hand out to shake Cory’s when they’d encountered each other as Nick ushered Cory through the mansion northeast of Princeton, New Jersey, near Rockingham, the historical site of George Washington’s last field headquarters in the American Revolutionary War. Chernoff owned an extensive, very private estate on land between that and an abandoned stone quarry. Nick and Cory had driven there in their separate cars, Cory following behind and using his GPS, as necessary. After this visit Nick had to go back to the beach for work and Cory would drive back to Washington, D.C., in his own car at the end of the weekend.

Cory had been thinking of something else when Nick had introduced himself, he knew. He’d been absorbed with how sexy Nick looked and by how obvious the surfing equipment business owner had been putting the make on him at Monmouth Beach. Somehow, from the way the man said it and wasn’t letting loose of Cory’s hand, the young man got the distinct impression Alec Chernoff knew exactly why Cory hadn’t caught Nick’s last name and why Nick had brought Cory to Princeton for the weekend. There was little doubt too that the father knew what the son’s sexual interests were.

“I don’t know how you’ve hooked up with Nick, Cory, but I’m glad he’s brought you home for the weekend. I have been thinking of you. And I’ve been thinking about your background too. I hope you’ve contacted Murriel Gladstone about position possibilities the Chernoff Institute.”

Hooked up? Did the mean Chernoff fully understood what Nick and Cory did together?

“I haven’t had time to think about it, but I have intended to,” Cory said. “I’ve been on vacation—at the beach . . . Monmouth Beach, in New Jersey.”

“That’s where Nick has his surfing equipment business,” Chernoff said.

“That’s right. I rented a beach house right next to his business. I surf, but no longer have equipment of my own, so I rented some stuff from him.”

“And got to know him quite well, I wager,” Alec said. Cory guessed the meant the man had no question about what Cory and his son were doing with each other.

“Well,” Chernoff continued, “it’s the pool and a couple of drinks this afternoon. Why don’t you show Cory where to bunk, Nick, and both of you come back ready to swim.”

The house was cavernous and there were bedrooms aplenty. Cory had wondered if Nick would put him in one room with him, but maybe, he thought, that would be too obvious for the father, because they wound up in separate rooms.

“I have some calls to make before I come down, but why don’t you go on down to the pool?” Nick said when he dropped Cory off in his bedroom. “Otherwise, he might think we’re just fucking around and ignoring him.”

“Listen, Nick, if it’s awkward . . . if your father doesn’t know . . . I can be discreet.”

“Oh, he knows all right,” Nick said, with a laugh, and, with that, he was gone from the room.

Cory slipped on an electric-blue Speedo and found his way back to the pool, which took some exploring to accomplish. If Alec Chernoff wondered what was keeping Nick, he said nothing. He merely asked what Cory would like to drink and started the defining conversation while he got it and brought it back to Cory.

“I hope you realize why Nick brought you here for the weekend,” he said.

“Yes, I understand,” Cory answered, understanding more than Alec probably thought he did at this point.

“I presume you two have been together already,” the man said.

“Been together?”

“Nick is gay and active. And he’s a top. He has bedded you already, hasn’t he? We don’t have to go all the way back in the arrangement.”

“Bedded me?”

“Fucked you. I told you I know what your arrangement is with General Holdings. I’m glad to know you go with older men. And I saw you at the conference, in the billiards room, with that CIA guy. I know you take cock—and from older men.”

“That’s twice you’ve mentioned older men,” Cory said.

“That’s because I’m an older man.”

Cory took his drink over to the side of the pool and turned away from Alec. So, this wasn’t really about Nick and Cory fucking. This was about his father and Cory fucking. How should Cory play this? This was the point he wanted to get to, but how should he play it not to raise the man’s suspicions?

“I see,” he said. “Yes, we’ve fucked already. Does he bring guys back here for sex in the weekend?”

“Yes.”

“When you’re here?”

“Yes. So, you do understand. He doesn’t bring young men here just for himself. When he sees something he thinks I will enjoy, he brings him to me. If he hadn’t brought you here, though, I would come looking for you. I do have a job for you, but I have interests in you that go beyond that. Do you think you could—?”

“Yes,” Cory interposed. He, in fact, had thought of the possibility back at the Port Deposit conference, having assessed Chernoff as a possible sex partner then. It was true that he had no problem going with older men, ones who were still in fit shape, whether or not that was work related. He turned at the sound of someone coming out from the house.

“Ah, there he is now,” Alex said, nodding to his son. “What’s your poison, Nick?”

Cory had already figured out what this weekend trip had been about. It had all been too quick and smooth. But he wasn’t put off by it. He’d been counting on something like this.

“You’re a beautiful young man, Cory,” Alec said as he stood by him and handed a can of beer to Nick. “I’ll take good care of you. You do find me arousing enough, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Cory answered.

“Well, that’s heated me up,” Alec said, with a little laugh. “I need to cool off. Think I’ll go for a swim.” As Cory and Nick watched, Alec stripped off his Speedo. He was in full erection and was hung. He strode to the edge of the pool, neatly dove in, and started to do laps.

“I think that’s our signal to join him in the pool,” Nick said.

Cory understood the score, but there was no reason not to make Nick squirm a bit about his role in this. “Is that it, then, Nick . . . the plan? Are you your father’s pimp? Do you seduce surfers at the beach and bring them home for Daddy to fuck?”

“Yes,” Nick said coolly, giving a little laugh and taking a swig of his beer. “Do you mind all that much? You’ve been really, really easy. You’re a slut for it, and my father is very good. I’ve done you a big favor. And I see that you have an added incentive. I didn’t know that you’d already met him and that there’s the possibility of a job on line here.”

“No, I don’t mind all that much.”

“He’s in really good shape. He’s a hunk for his age. And he’s hung, as you can see.”

“Yes, I can see that he is to all of that,” Cory answered.

“Give him the rest of today and tonight,” Nick said. “I’m driving back to the beach tomorrow morning. You can either leave then too or stay for the rest of the weekend, if you want.”

“And us? You and me?”

“If you’re ever at Monmouth Beach again, you know where you can find me, and you know what fun we can have together. Whatever future arrangement you make with my father is fine with me, but it’s not my place to be in competition with him. I provide him tail; it’s not a competition thing. Take it or leave it.”

“You aren’t creeped out even if you wind out in a threesome with your father?” Cory asked.

“Not in the least,” Nick answered. He stripped off his swimsuit and dove into the pool. Cory joined him soon after.

They all swam some laps and then they cavorted with a beach ball in the pool. Nick drew Cory close to him and they kissed and Nick frotted their cocks under the water, while Alec treaded water nearby and watched.

“He just going to watch us?” Cory murmured to Nick.

“This isn’t competition,” Nick murmured to Cory. “He likes to watch a guy he’s going to fuck be fucked by me first. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, not really.”

“And, yes, he might join in. Do you have a problem with that either?”

“No.”

Nick pulled Cory over to the shallow end, hauled him up onto the lip of the pool, laying him on his back on the terrace tiles. Going down on his knees in the pool between Cory’s thighs, he spread and raised Cory’s legs, moved his face into the young man’s crack, ate him out and sucked him off, and, rising over him, mounted, penetrated, and fucked him. Cory went with it. Nick was doing his duty; Cory was doing his job as well. It was kind of kicky, he thought, about being fucked by the father after the son. They were both handsome and hung.

Sitting on the edge of the pool nearby, Alec watched and stroked himself with one hand and touched Cory here and there on his naked body until Nick had ejaculated and withdrew. Then Alec moved over to take his place and fucked Cory missionary style as well.

When Cory and Alec came out of the pool, Nick was already gone. His car was gone too, so he lied about staying through the night. He, indeed, had just acquired Cory for his father. Cory didn’t care. Everything was working out great.

Alec had a gourmet dinner delivered, and after they ate it, they went to the living room to watch gay male porn DVDs on the TV set mounted above the fireplace and fuck on the sofa. And Cory didn’t use his bedroom that night or the next. He rode Alec’s cock in Alec’s bed both nights. Cory had no complaints to give on the attention he received from Alec or on the man’s age, stamina, vigor, or virility. Alec remained erect and ever ready the entire weekend. If he required pills to maintain that condition, Cory didn’t give a shit. The man delivered.

* * * *

“So, did it work out as planned?”

“Yes, Chernoff has hired me as one of his front office assistants.”

“And it’s good with Holdings too?”

“Yes, I’ll be able to look into them both from close up,” Cory Gordon answered. He and his boss, Sam Winterberry, of the CIA’s spying-plus-prostitution operations Candy Store unit were sitting at a remote table in the lobby bar of the Hyatt Centric Hotel on top of the Rosslyn, Virginia, Metro station. The location was ideal for their meeting, as it was across the Potomac River from Georgetown, in Washington, D.C., and halfway between the Capitol building in the District and the CIA headquarters building in Langley, Virginia. Adding to the convenience was that a major subway transfer hub was just below the hotel and they could both arrive from wherever in the region and separate naturally and return the same way without risking close surveillance.

“Chernoff didn’t suspect we were targeting him the way we got you inserted into his operation? He’s far more clever than General Holdings is. Holdings was easy.”

“I was easy for Holdings,” Cory said. “And Chernoff thinks it’s all his idea and that the hookup through his son was just fortuitous. I’m sure they thought they pulled the perfect bait-and-switch and that I just couldn’t get enough of their cocks.”

“Precisely. And they would be right. You can’t get enough cock. Why should theirs be any different? That’s why you’re so good at this.”

Cory couldn’t argue with that, and from the look Winterberry gave him, he knew was about to be covered by his boss as totally as he had been on that billiard table in the Port Deposit safe house when they knew Chernoff was watching them.

Winterberry continued. “We’re worried about both men on this vehicle surveillance project,” Winterberry said. “Holdings would sell his first born for cash he’s salting away in Puerto Rico with his wife’s family, and Chernoff has very suspicious connections with the Russians. We want you to keep both of them randy for you and under observation.”

“I think it’s all good. And I have the codes and the contact instructions here. So—”

“So, I have a room booked upstairs in the hotel,” Winterberry said, “and my schedule is cleared.”

And there it was—where this was going from here today—the real reason they were meeting in a hotel bar and he hadn’t been summoned to Langley for the meeting. Because there were hotel rooms above them. Cory wasn’t surprised. Sex was how Winterberry controlled his agents and kept them in line. Cory shuddered, but he’d known this was coming as soon as the meeting had been set up in a hotel. Winterberry was a cruel and brutal dominator—but this was what Cory did and he had to admit that Winterberry was the best.