Escapades of an Erotic Spy - Part 1 A Spy is Born

by Lexington Manheim

  His life wasn't what I was worried about. If his family caught him, he'd probably get a stern talking to and maybe a cut in his allowance. Then he'd be off to school again to resume exactly where he left off. Me, on the other hand—I'd be out of a job. Possibly out of several jobs. It was a huge risk.

  But, hell!—this was Beau! My Beau! He wanted to be with me on New Year's Eve, to be there when the clock struck midnight and I became a woman. What's more, he wanted to be the one to usher me into womanhood. How could I possibly turn that down?

  "All right," I agreed.

  Beau beamed. A chill went through me.

  New Year's Eve:

  The late-night trolley ride across the Potomac felt very odd. I had never before traveled to Arlington at that hour. But here it was, New Year's Eve, and the trolley was surprisingly busy. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised. It was obvious a number of my fellow passengers were on their way to parties that wouldn't reach their climax until midnight. So it wasn't unthinkable that, at 11:00 p.m., there'd be people who were on their way to their late-night destinations. Come to think of it, I was one of those people.

  There was no problem about my going out at such an otherwise ungodly hour. My mother asked few questions after I told her I'd be meeting a friend to ring in the New Year. She had plans of her own, the details of which I didn't bother to delve into with her. However, I assumed her plans involved a man and an overnight stay. They usually did. No matter. The only thing that truly mattered to me that evening was my rendezvous with Beau. He'd meet me at the McMahon's empty house where I'd enter as a mere blossoming girl and exit as a fully flourishing woman.

  The bitter winter wind cut right through my coat as I walked the dark, deserted side roads from the trolley stop to the Eldridge's street. It was uncomfortable, but I didn't care. I only cared about my meeting with Beau. In a little while, I'd be with him, in private, where no one would disturb us. This was what I'd wanted for months. I'd have braved the cold for twice as long, even without a coat, just for the moment that was about to happen.

  It was about 11:30 when I arrived at the McMahon house. The large, Georgian style brick home was dark inside. Only the flicker of a sidewalk street lamp illuminated its exterior, and even that was faint. Scouting up and down the street with my eyes, I determined there was no one around, and I cautiously walked up the steps and onto the home's front porch. I tried the door. It was locked. A porch swing was just to my left, in a shadowed area. I sat myself on it and huddled into my coat as best I could for whatever warmth the measly, cheap garment would allow.

  Next door, the diffused light of a small table lamp shone through the red curtains of the Eldridge parlor windows. Things seemed pretty quiet over there.

  Where's Beau? Is he in the parlor? Should I go over and knock on the window, just to let him know I'm waiting? No! Absolutely not! If I were seen, it would ruin everything. I just need to sit and be patient. He'll be along shortly.

  11:45. At least, that was my estimate since I wasn't carrying a timepiece. Shivering, I thought to myself how long it had been since I'd seen anyone on the streets. Wherever the late-night travelers were headed, they must be there by now. No one was still roaming about at this hour. Everyone was now where they were supposed to be—except Beau.

  Just wait. He'll be here soon.

  11:50.

  Where is he? He is coming, isn't he? He wouldn't just leave me sitting here, would he? On New Year's Eve? On my birthday? Oh, not Beau! Not my beautiful Beau! Please don't tell me I've been stood up, on this of all nights! I've been waiting so long! Oh, Beau! Where are you? How could you! How…

  I heard a door opening and closing quickly. It came from next door—the Eldridges. I froze, not with cold, but with fear. From my dark hiding spot, I strained to see. A moment later, there he was. Standing there on the porch. Out of breath. Wrapped in a bulky, brown winter coat, and looking gorgeous. Beau.

  "Hope you weren't waiting long." He proceeded to the front door and fumbled with the key. "Getting the girls to bed was harder than I expected. I finally had to promise them they could stay up till midnight if they stayed in bed, kept their door closed, and went to sleep immediately after. Told 'em not to come wish me 'happy anything' because I was going to bed right then."

  The door was open, and Beau motioned for me to enter. I did. It was dark inside, so I didn't venture far into the room for fear of bumping into, or worse, breaking something. A second later, Beau locked the door behind us. My heart was pounding, but I felt better just knowing we were out of sight of any passersby who might happen along the street.

  I suppose, to accommodate the cat, the McMahons had left the heat partially on. Still, the room felt cold. Yet, by comparison to the outdoors, it was temperate.

  "I'll turn on just this little lamp." Beau was familiar enough with the layout of the house to negotiate his way through the darkness to a small table lamp, and he switched it on. The meager glow of the bulb was enough for me to see that I was standing in a tastefully decorated room. Lots of nicely upholstered chairs, elegant wall sconces, heavy wood bookshelves, and the like. Judging only by the richness of the room's furnishings, I guessed the McMahons had even more money than the Eldridges.

  It suddenly occurred to me as I stood there that I had just done something in the McMahons' house that I had never done in the Eldridges' house—I had entered through the front door. Something about that made me a little uneasy. Maybe because it served as a reminder of the difference in social status between Beau and me. Did I belong there? Well, of course, I wasn't supposed to be in the neighbors' house under any circumstances. No question there. But was I the type of girl who belonged with this boy?

  "You're so quiet." Beau's smile was both warm and calming. Whatever jitters I had gave way to the contented feeling of simply being in his presence. Whether or not I belonged there, I wanted to be there.

  "I guess I don't know what I should say," I responded.

  "You don't have to say anything, I suppose. You're here. That's all that matters."

  "I'm glad to be here."

  "Me, too."

  We looked at each other for a few seconds, uncertain what to do next. Finally, Beau began unbuttoning his coat.

  "May I take your coat?" He sounded so gentlemanly. That was exactly how I had always imagined a man should ask a lady.

  My coat had more buttons than his, so it took me longer to slip mine off, but once I did, he was right there to relieve me of it and hang it on a coat rack next to his own. In the dim light, it appeared Beau was wearing chocolate brown pants and a white dress shirt that had been starched and neatly ironed. I wore a silky, Alice blue dress with gold colored buttons and a delicate frill about the neck, waist, sleeves, and near ankle-length hem. It was the finest I owned, and typically brought out only for the most special of occasions. I could think of no occasion more special than this one.

  "I like your dress," Beau said.

  "Thank you." I was so pleased he liked it.

  He took a breath as he stared. "You look so beautiful standing there."

  At that moment, I felt beautiful—more beautiful than I had ever been in my life. I was in a private place, wearing my prettiest dress, in the company of the man I loved more deeply than life itself. How could any girl in such a position not be a ravishing sight?

  Something brushed against my leg and caused me to let out a squeak of fright. What the…?

  "Mr. Whiskers," Beau chuckled as he pointed toward the tabby near my feet. It was the McMahon's cat, come to cozy up to the visitors in his home. Beau scooped up the cat with one hand and gave his head a rub behind the ears. "He's very friendly. Aren't you, Mr. Whiskers?" Beau put down the cat. "Hey, ever seen a real Revolutionary War musket? They've got one on the wall over here."

  Beau encouraged me to follow him deeper into the room, toward the fireplace. Above the mantle, mounted on a wooden plaque, was a long, mostly rusted weapon of a bygone age. Beau explained to me about the gun's significance d
uring the American Revolution, and how the loading differed from that of contemporary firearms. He also explained how the long-range inaccuracy of the round balls it fired led to the command that a soldier shouldn't shoot until he sees the whites of his enemy's eyes. These were things Beau learned in his American history class at the university, and he seemed anxious to share them with someone who'd never been to college. Although I can't say I'm enthusiastic about the history of firearms, just being there and listening to Beau speaking to me was more than enough to keep me enthralled.

  Somewhere in the room, a clock chimed. It was midnight. He turned to face me directly. Beau and I were standing only inches from each other. He looked nervous. I breathed heavily.

  "Happy New Year," I whispered.

  "Happy birthday," he whispered back.

  I felt Beau's hands touch my arms at the elbows, then slide upwards about halfway to my shoulders. There, his fingers tightened. I felt my body go limp in his grasp. As he held me, he inched his face closer. His approaching blue eyes were hypnotizing. I closed my own eyes and held my breath. A moment later, I felt his lips on mine. It was the kiss—the kiss I had dreamed of, longed for. It was actually happening. I tingled clear down to my toes.

  Oh, Beau! My beautiful, beautiful Beau! Take me, my darling!

  Eventually, the kiss ended. Beau turned off the table lamp and wordlessly led me by the hand to a stairway just to the right of the front door. I followed obediently. My obedience was in every sense the pure eagerness of desire. I was willing. I was yearning. I wanted this more than anything else in the world.

  Lead me, my love! Have me for your own!

  We tiptoed up the stairs to the second floor and down a corridor. My boy had a destination in mind. We passed several open doors—the children's bedrooms, I presumed—until we arrived at one where the door was closed. Beau turned the knob and led me inside the room. He shut the door behind us and turned on a small lamp atop a bureau. I could tell immediately we were in the McMahons' master bedroom. The room's ornamentation was a combination of the femininity of the woman of the house matched with the virility of the man who was deemed to be the master of this home. Dainty little jars and canisters sat across the room from mahogany racks for shoes and ties. Between them was a bed—the most beautiful bed I'd ever seen. Crisp white sheets stretched from corner to corner amidst four wooden posts that jutted almost to the ceiling. Folded halfway down the mattress was a thick green and white quilt that looked luxurious, warm, and inviting.

  There, Beau! Take me there!

  Beau sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned me to sit next to him. I positioned myself only inches from his left. That distance was quickly reduced to zero as he skirted his body until his hip was firmly pressed against mine. The feel of our lower anatomies touching, even if only at the hip, was a sensual delight. It felt naughty and incredibly erotic. What's more, it was thrilling to know it was only the beginning of even greater pleasures about to happen.

  I'm ready, Beau! I've never been more ready!

  He placed his left hand atop my right, which was resting on my leg just above my knee. I splayed my fingers slightly to allow his masculine fingers to intermingle between mine. By doing that, I also made space for his fingertips to wriggle downward to my leg. Even through the folds of my skirt, a man touching my leg sent shivers through me.

  If only that skirt weren't there! Keep going, Beau!

  With his right hand, he reached across, gently touched my left shoulder, and twisted my upper body toward him.

  Yes, Beau! Yes!

  Without awaiting further incentive, I closed my eyes and leaned in. Instantly, his lips were on mine. We devoured each other—lips and tongues smacking hungrily at each other. His right hand slid up toward my neck, then the back of my head. I reached out with my left hand and found his muscular chest a willing target of my eager groping. His left hand slithered up my thigh to my waist. I wriggled my right hand around his mid-section and cradled his back. I felt his torso lean backward, and I followed his lead. Except for our overhanging lower legs, we were now lying on the bed. The kissing never ceased. The fondling grew more frenetic.

  Oh, touch me! Touch me everywhere!

  I heard the rustling sound of my skirt being gathered. He was pulling it up to gain access to my legs. And then he was there—rubbing my knee, my upper leg, my thigh. He was feeling my drawers. There was nothing more under that. Nothing other than me, that is.

  Damn these clothes! I want them off!

  Somehow my left hand found its way past the buttons of his shirt, and I could feel his hairless chest beneath his thin undershirt.

  More! More!

  A hand brushed my breast. I shivered.

  Oh, do it again!

  The hand circled about my upper chest and then came back to rest on my bosom. There it stayed. Then the fingers began to clench. I could postpone the inevitable no longer. I reached toward my collar and began unbuttoning the dress. Beau saw what I was doing, and he quickly withdrew his hands, sat up, and began unfastening his shirt. He had it off so fast. I was still undoing my buttons when he whipped off his undershirt and sat back down, bare chested. He licked his lips and untied his shoes as I stood to slide off the bodice and to undo the various fasteners about the skirt. So complex, women's clothing! The pumps I was wearing were easily undone and slipped off my feet. Now came the stockings. White cotton and bulky, they were donned exclusively for the warmth they provided on the walk over. Now they seemed so unattractive and out of place. I sat back on the bed where I unhooked and pealed them off as quickly as I could. That left the camisole and my drawers.

  I looked at Beau. He was unfastening his pants. There was no question they'd be around his ankles in seconds. I didn't want to be left behind. I turned away from my young man, clutched the bottom of my camisole, and without pausing even a second to think about it, pulled it up past my belly, my breasts, and over my head. It was off. My other clothes were piled on the floor at my feet. I saw no reason not to send the camisole in the same direction. Then I reached for my last remaining garment, raised my ass to provide room, and yanked my drawers down past my knees, past my feet, depositing them on top of the pile of clothing that only a couple of minutes ago I had been wearing. I was now nude.

  Taking a deep breath, I turned back toward Beau, seated on the bed only a foot or so away. He, too, was naked. And whiz-bang!—what a site! His shoulders were broad. His arms so muscular it looked almost as though he could pick up and throw a Model T. His chest was smooth and firm, his belly slim and tight, his legs sturdy. And, right in the middle of it all—to the glory of all things manly—was his cock. Thick and long and standing at full attention—a magnificent erection of, I'm guessing, somewhere between nine and ten inches. It sprouted from a fair-hued crop of pubic hair and sat atop an ample pair of balls. I had always imagined Beau would be well equipped, but the actual sight of it took my breath away.

  I needed no further enticement to reach for his manhood. I put my hands flat against either side of the base of his glorious cock and allowed my fingers to stroke outward to the tip.

  Oh, my god! I actually touched his dick!

  Beau had his own target. He grabbed my dangling breasts, his fingers cupping their underside, and squeezed.

  "Oh, boy, have you got nice tits!" he panted. "So big!"

  "You're big, too." I let my left hand wander downward to feel his meaty balls. I rolled them about.

  Oh, wonder of fucking wonders! I'm playing with his balls!

  I heard him sigh ever so slightly. It was obvious he liked having his balls played with. Or, maybe, he just liked having me play with them. Oh, please, let that be the case!

  I wrapped my right hand around his organ and stroked vigorously. Beau was breathing very hard. His fondling of my tits became more aggressive, rubbing and pressing on them like a baker kneads dough. The feel of his palms sliding against my silver-dollar-sized areolas caused my nipples to rise.

  "They're growing." He was
practically drooling as he stared at my stiffening bumps.

  "Wanna suck them?" I could hardly believe I'd actually said that.

  Further encouragement was unnecessary. He ducked his head, leaned in, and took my right breast into his mouth.

  God, yes! Suck my tit! Don't forget the other one! Yes, that's it! Suck them both! Suck them hard! Suck my big titties like you're going to swallow them whole!

  Beau's mouth had both my breasts moist, but I was also wet elsewhere. Down below. From within the hairy, dark triangle between my legs, my pussy was sopping and wide. Unwilling to wait any longer for the further stimulation I craved, I took hold of my lover's right hand and placed it directly onto my eager sex. Beau responded immediately. His fingers shimmied over my drenched folds until they located my yawning opening. Then he plunged two fingers into me and rubbed from within.

  Oh, such a feeling! Such a fucking feeling!

  And yet I still wanted more.

  "Can we get under the covers?" I wheezed.

  Beau released me. We both stood only long enough to turn down the sheets. I slid in first. Then he followed. I pulled the top sheet and quilt up to cover us and scooted directly into Beau's outstretched arms. My nude body was fully engulfed in his. His strong arms had hold of me. His lips were kissing mine. I felt the underside of his hard dick pressed up against me, and I melted.

  Suddenly, without warning, he pushed me onto my back and rolled on top of me. My legs instinctively parted.

  "I want you!" I gasped. "I want you in me!"

  I worked a hand between our bodies to grab hold of what felt like a cock of iron, and I maneuvered its head to my waiting hole. Upon finding the welcoming opening, Beau thrust forward and submerged his dick deep inside my cunt.

  Pure bliss!

  His wondrous weapon filled me. The feel of his hardness pounding within drove me to ecstatic madness. There was nothing in the world I wanted more. No threat of danger could have turned me away. Any risk was worth just being there.

  Oh, fuck me, Beau! Fuck me!