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The flight from Birmingham to Vienna wasn’t full—at least business class wasn’t. Trent had been told to avoid any of the London airports in proceeding to his next assignment and that had paid off in terms of how crowded the flight was.
This had at least one other benefit as well. A cute little flight attendant, looking much the same as Trent—passing at first glance as a few years younger than their actual twenty-three—who introduced himself as Craig, gave Trent extra attention—and seemed to have the time to do it. Craig was a bit swishy for Trent and was trying too hard to signal his gay sub orientation—frosted hair, a saucy gait when he moved up and down the aisle, the traditional earring in the right ear, and, for good measure, the indentation of a ring in the right nipple clearly seen through the satiny material of his white shirt.
Whereas this overdisplay usually turned Trent off, at this moment it was just what he wanted—a fast, noncommittal lay of a docile and willing sub. Trent was a little tired of having to play the sub all the time himself.
Craig was treating Trent like a celebrity, even though celebrity status was something Trent studiously avoided. His job was to slip in and out of situations unnoticed and unremembered by any but those he was targeting. The airline steward was clearly flirting with Trent, and Trent was in the mood to flirt back. Most of Trent’s assignments placed him in a sub category, as well, but he was versatile and sometime was in the mood to take charge. His blond movie-star looks and good build aided in switch hitting—it’s just that he didn’t get many “take charge” assignments.
The steward kept coming back to him to see if there was anything he wanted and the “anything you want” offer seemed to go beyond what the plane was stocked with.
Trent had a job to do, though, with only the one night open, the night of his Vienna layover before flying to Milan (only to backtrack to Austria again later), so he didn’t push beyond getting more of everything and a suggestive smile or five during the flight. Still, he wanted Craig to know that the reason for the special attention hadn’t gone over his head, so near the end of the flight, when Craig asked him if he needed to know anything about Vienna that Craig might help him with, Trent said, “I’m in Vienna for only one night. Know any good men-on-men bars in the city?”
Craig’s eyes lit up with a smile, and he said, his eyes watching Trent closely, “There’s the Inside Bar near the Naschmarkt for the softer side of interest or, for something rougher, there’s the Rüdiger on Rüdigergasse, which is more of a hustler’s bar.”
There was a visible chill that went down the steward’s back when Trent said, “The Rüdiger bar, eh? Wonder what sort of men could be found there at nine this evening.”
“I’m sure they would be willing men—for you,” Craig said, giving Trent a wink before sashaying off to take up his regular duties.
And, indeed, when Trent showed up at the Rüdiger bar shortly after nine, he not only observed that Craig was standing at the bar fending off offers but found Craig more than willing to turn them all away in favor of giving attention to Trent.
“Ah, you’ve come,” he said as Trent sidled up to him at the bar and after they’d both made clear to other guys showing up that they were there for each other.
“That’s why I’m here,” Trent said. “I want to come with someone who will give me what I want, and I have just the one night here to find relief. If I have to beat around the bush for it—”
“You don’t. But do you top? I couldn’t tell for sure in the plane.”
“That’s what I want tonight.”
“In that case, one drink, and then we’ll need to find someplace. Not my hotel, I’m afraid. I’m in with another flight steward.”
“A sexy flight steward?” Trent asked, with a smile.
“Naughty boy. I have no intention of sharing you. Where are you staying?”
Trent didn’t want to reveal he was booked at the swank Sofitel Vienna, but he didn’t have to. “I booked a room at a small hotel around the corner before I came in here. It obviously is one that won’t give us any hassle—if you don’t give me any hassle.”
“You are a fast worker, aren’t you, naughty boy?” Craig said with a smile on his face and his fingers doing a strum up Trent’s arm.
“I can be fast, deep, and hard if you can take it. You didn’t flinch when I selected Rüdiger.”
“I was hoping you would. It’s what I’m in the mood for. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Are you a screamer?”
“Why would you? . . . shit, what is that?”
“You know what it is,” Trent said, pulling the ball gag further out of his pocket. “You still think you can take it?”
In the sleazy hotel room, Craig proved that he, indeed, could take in.
Trent took him hard and fast the first time, covering Craig on all fours, on the floor between the door and the bed of the small hotel room, fucking him furiously like a dog in a hurry, and listening to the flight Cebeci Escort steward’s muffled screams through the ball gag.
After that, the steward showed Trent that he was both insatiable and flexible, suspended over Trent’s reclining body for a second fuck and supporting himself by stiff arming the mattress on either side of Trent’s biceps and leverage off his bent legs as Trent held him at the waist and helped him fuck himself on Trent’s cock.
For the third coupling, Trent rocked back on his knees, once more holding Craig’s waist in his hands while Craig assumed the crab position again, his body, attached to Trent’s at the pelvis, streaming away from Trent’s and supporting himself on stiffened arms. Trent was duly impressed at the punishment the flight attendant could take as well as his flexibility.
An hour later, they were in the shower together, with Craig’s chest plastered against the tiled wall, and Trent fucking him from behind. But before completion, they’d left the shower, quickly towelled off, and Trent had carried Craig to the bed, pushed him down on his belly, stuffed pillows under his midsection, and mounted and ridden his ass to an ejaculation.
They lay side by side for some minutes, catching their breath, before Trent rolled off the bed and dressed while Craig, exhausted, lay on the bed, in arms and legs akimbo, and watched Trent dress.
“That was great sex,” Craig murmured, no doubt fishing for a compliment. “Do you ride the Birmingham to Vienna route often?”
“No, this is probably the only time,” Trent answered, avoiding telling Craig how well he had performed. He recognized the question as a suggestion for another meeting, but it was done. Trent didn’t do outside-of-the-job entanglements; he couldn’t afford risking them. It had been fun, but he was trained not to live in the past on sexual encounters. He’d wanted to get his rocks off, and the flight attendant had accommodated him. If he had the time he would happily do him again now, but this was all there was.
“I’d like to do this again,” Craig said.
“No, this is probably the only time,” Trent repeated.
“But we were so good together,” Craig said.
“You’re a very good lay, yes. But I don’t repeat,” Trent said. “I needed to get off like that, and I needed the exercise. You give good exercise. That’s as far as it goes.”
“God, you’re cold.” Craig delivered that with a pouty expression, but he didn’t seem to be angry.
“In my business I have to be,” Trent said, and then, without another word, he left the room, leaving Craig spread-eagled on the bed with four used condoms on the floor below—and wondering what Trent’s business was.
* * * *
Trent and Mavis Windsor, a stylish woman in her fifties who appeared more like a retired fashion model than the intelligence agent she was, were sitting in the dining room of the Hyatt Park Milan the next evening, working their way into their roles of Mavis posing as a rich American traveler to cover the role of a chemicals buyer for a Swiss consortium and Trent—or, rather, Christopher in this role—as her secretary/stud and/or maybe her son, depending on the needs of the moment. This was the choice they were discussing.
A trio of waiters was giving them the same level of attention as Craig had given Trent on the Birmingham-to-Vienna flight, with more attention going to Trent as Christopher than to Mavis. Mavis was tolerating this because she knew as well as Trent did the reason why men gravitated to Trent, and that this was why Trent was going on this operation with her.
Beyond his blond, movie-star looks, the Agency technicians had infused Trent with pheromones that made him irresistible to men who were inclined to be attracted to other men. This is what cleared the way so easily for Trent to seduce and be seduced—all in the line of work. Mavis wasn’t all that sure that the pheromones weren’t working on her as well.
He and Mavis had already gone over the operation they were going to near Salzburg in the Austrian Alps. The understanding had been broached that Trent would fuck Mavis to solidify the role of him being her secretary and boy toy should that be the roles chosen when they arrived at the Salzburg ski lodge, but Trent had taken care of that before dinner already, knowing in the back of his mind that, after the role reversal he had performed the previous night with the airline steward that he’d need to do something this night to fall back into the role of a first-time sub—and, in this case, as Mavis’ boy toy if that was the role he was supposed to be in in Salzburg.
Now it was time to practice the first-time sub role with another man. He had his choice at dinner of three very attentive waiters. Picking out the tallest and most muscular one, who was a bit thuggish, which also made him the most attractive, Trent, as Christopher, did his submissive “making eyes” routine with that waiter until all three of them had Kolej Escort gotten the idea that not only would he lie under one of them if the opportunity arose but that he had made a choice.
Taking advantage of Mavis mulling the desert menu with one of the other waiters, the chosen one, Guido, leaned down and whispered in Trent’s ear, “I think you want to be serviced, yes?”
“Yes, I think so,” Trent as Christopher answered back. “I’ve never been with a man, but I have this need—with you.”
The waiter’s eyes flashed and he licked his lips.
“If you can get away from the old women, come back at 10:00. I will take you somewhere and give you what you want. I assure you that I’m very good.”
Putting a possessive arm around Christopher’s shoulders when he returned at the time specified, Guido, massively powerful as set against Christopher, guided the younger American through a doorway covered with a beaded curtain and back down a darkened corridor to a storeroom. Holding a whimpering Christopher close with one arm, Guido swept a wooden table top clear with the other one. He then pulled Christopher into his chest and held him prisoner with one arm, while moving the hand of his other arm over Christopher’s body, loosening and stripping off clothing.
Christopher struggled a bit in Guido’s grip and murmured, “Maybe this isn’t such good idea. I’ve never—” But Guido possessed the younger man’s mouth with his and, as his deep kisses elicited whimpers from Christopher and an increased returning of passion in the kisses, Guido pushed Christopher down on his back on the table. Releasing Christopher’s mouth, Guido kissed down Christopher’s torso while he stripped off his shirt, revealing a well-muscled chest.
The younger man lay there, moaning and whimpering, as the meaty waiter possessed Christopher’s cock with his mouth and brought the young American to an ejaculation. Then it was just Christopher lying there and moaning, as Guido rose over him, slowly worked his cock inside the American’s channel, slowly, slowly invading his channel, as Christopher writhed and sobbed for him in a most convincing “first time” performance, and then gave all struggle up and settled down into moans and sighs as the big Italian began to pump.
When Christopher was able to escape, he did so, having managed to bring sobs and tears up as evidence that he was a novice to this. It was practice that he needed to settle into to establish the role Mavis had briefed him he needed to take on in their assignment to the Austrian Alps.
Guido both apologized and praised Christopher for the first coupling and how well Christopher had taken it, indicating that Christopher had successfully delivered another “first time” performance.
But after the few words of praise, Guido pulled away from Christopher, lying on the table with his legs now dangling toward the floor, zipped up his trousers, and just left Christopher with a growled, “You can find your way out.” He left Christopher as abruptly as Trent (before declaring as Christopher) had left the airline steward, Craig, in the Vienna fleabag hotel room.
This wasn’t taken as an insult by Christopher, though, but as an assurance that he had now slipped wholly into the role of nondemanding submission that he was to take in the coming operation in the Austrian Alps.
He returned not to his own hotel room but to that of Mavis, who was lying, naked in her bed, with a book in her hand.
Laying the book aside, Mavis looked at Christopher when he entered the room.
“You looked pleased. I assumed you returned to the restaurant.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Which of the waiters did you select.”
“Guido, the big one.”
“Ah, makes sense. You said you needed to steep yourself in the role you must fulfill. I assume that has been done.”
“Yes, I’m ready for the ski lodge. Have we decided who I am targeting, the Austrian industrialist, or his assistant?”
“We’ll have to decide that based on what we find. I’ve been thinking. I think we’d best pose you as my son. If you are seen to be my lover, that will complicate your attraction to the men and spin out the operation longer than we wish. I’ll target the Russian.”
Christopher had been stripping down, but stopped when Mavis said that. “So, does the familial relationship start now? Should I return to my room.”
“By no means now. Especially as I see that you are as aroused as I am.” Mavis slipped the sheet off her body, revealing that she was a decidedly luscious, fully ripe woman despite her age.
Christopher silently came to her, pressing his knees between her spread knees, entering her with a well-hung erection, his lips going to the nipples of her ample breasts, As Mavis spread the palms of her hands over the young man’s plump buttocks, aiding with the pressure of her hands the rhythm of the fuck, arching her back, and moaning the pleasure of having a handsome, well-built man deep Yenimahalle Escort inside her.
* * * *
“And what is it that your mother is protecting you from? Do you actually know?”
Both men were watching Mavis, posing as Andrea Worthington, the younger man’s mother, across the room at the Austrian ski lodge as she folded herself close into the Russian at the bar. The room was fairly crowded with skiers winding down from a day on the slopes, but Trent, who was Christopher for this operation, was tuned into three points of a triangle in the room. He first looked to in front of the fireplace, where the German chemical company CEO, Gerhardt Kellsing sat, knee to knee to him, in an otherwise deserted conversation pit. Then he looked across the room, at the bar, where “Andrea” was putting the moves, as she and the newly minted Christopher had agreed, on the Russian chemicals buyer, Aleksy Bukanin. And, finally, he looked at a space between, where Kellsing’s assistant, Hans Docker, was standing, isolated, and sipping a beer.
The revelation hit “Christopher” at that point that Docker wasn’t watching Kellsing putting the moves on him—he already had a hand on Christopher’s knee—but was intensely watching the Russian and Andrea becoming increasingly cozy at the bar. Trent wanted to scream to Mavis that they’d gotten it all wrong—the approach they needed to make—but they were both too far into the current scenario they had created to backtrack during the scene they were acting out.
“Protecting me from? I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Christopher answered, turning his face back to Kellsing’s and putting their faces close together, as the German was leaning into the younger man as they sat in front of the fire, facing each other.
“Perhaps you don’t realize it yourself,” Kellsing said. “I saw how you looked at that waiter when he brought us our drinks—and you should drink yours up; I’m already ready for another one.”
“Again, I don’t understand,” Christopher answered. But of course he did and this was all according to plan. He had been pleasantly surprised by Gerhardt Kellsing. Trent/Christopher had expected the CEO of the large chemical corporation to be a doddering old man who he would have to endure. But Kellsing was anything but that. He couldn’t have hit forty yet, but he’d certainly hit the gym. He was nearly six-and-a-half feet tall and was the classic Nordic blond. he was evilly handsome and ruggedly muscular. He also was expensively dressed, of course, and suave enough to charm the clothes off a conquest, which Christopher, of course, realized he was doing with him now. It was what the plan was. Christopher’s mind was racing, though, to change the plan after seeing where the focus of the German’s assistant’s attention was.
Christopher took a sip of his drink and felt the effects right away. A chemist. Kellsing had enhanced his approach by drugging the young man’s drink. However, it was going to help Christopher control his real reaction while letting his “acting” side go with the drug. Mavis had anticipated this and had given him a countering drug before they had come to the ski lodge lounge. Kellsing wasn’t wasting time. He had parted Christopher’s thighs with his knees. Blushing and looking down, not making eye contact with him, Christopher let him do that. They were playing a game. Christopher just hoped Kellsing didn’t realize that the young American spy was playing a game behind the game.
The knees spread Christopher’s thighs wider and pressed it. It would have been impossible for Christopher not to know the German’s intent.
“I think you do understand, Christopher,” he said. “You mother is trying to protect you from your own inclinations, isn’t she?”
“Perhaps,” Christopher whispered. The German was stroking the young American’s flank with long, sensuous fingers of a hand, a hand crowned with a thick gold ring with an enormous diamond in it. Once again, Christopher let him do this, and the young man let himself go hard. Christopher had worn trousers tight enough for that to be revealing. Again, it helped that Kellsing was a fairly young, muscular hunk. Christopher didn’t have to feign going hard.
“Drink up and let’s have another one,” Kellsing said, as he signaled the passing waiter. To add fuel to his suppositions, Christopher gave the waiter a saucy smile as the hunky waiter, who worked the ski lift by day, handed the American his second drink.
“See, the way you looked at that waiter. You have desires and needs, don’t you?—ones your mother keeps a tight rein on you to keep you from fulfilling—don’t you?”
“I suppose,” Christopher answered in a studied, small voice. The hand Kellsing had been using to stroke Christopher’s flank moved to the inside of the young man’s thigh. Christopher felt the pressure and widened the stance of his thighs, making it seem like the action was involuntary and unnoticed. Kellsing slid further into the young American, pressing his knees deeper between Christopher’s thighs. The thumb of his hand was pressing on the bulb of Christopher’s cock through the material of his trousers and was rubbing the bulb.
The American made no move to stop him.
“You know what I think, Christopher?”
“No, what?” Christopher slurred his speech a bit, signaling that the drug was taking effect.
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