Nikita Wirth stood by her father’s desk and played with the telephone cord. Dressed in Scada silver cropped pants and beaded tank top, black-framed Dior eyeglasses and silver Manolo Blanik mules. Her beautiful long blonde hair was loose, no make-up other than lip-gloss and tiny platinum and diamond earring loops was all the jewelry she wore. A sliver of her flat stomach peaked over her hip-hugging waistband.

Her father Paul Wolf muttered on and on about her assignment, to be trained in Section One before embarking in a deep cover mission with variations. She would become a Supportive Op, something new being developed. The Organization’s Number 1 Operative, Michael Samuelle was to be her trainer; after all he was the best.

Nikita, angry because she had to get involved in missions of any kind, was livid and let it show. “…Immature young lady” was all she heard as he got up to get his wife who was puttering around in the garden. ‘No good can come of this meeting’ she thought.

Six months before when she graduated college at age 22, she had been expecting her inductment into one of the Sections. College for those in this Organization was a brutal “boot camp” of all things Section; she thought she was finished with training. Never did she think she would have to go on some extended mission.

It was a logical presumption to think she would advance and take over her father and mother’s position at Center. She looked at her nails, done in a French manicure, as they tapped rhythmically on the desk, she had to wait for her parents to continue with this torture. She was thinking, “I guess I am not getting that early promotion, hah.”

Even though she was a person of privilege, after all her father was Operations and Madelyn was her mother, Nikita had been brought up with an emphasis on honor, truth, loyalty and trust. She wanted to get this briefing over with; she had plans with her girlfriend Carla, a Cold Op. She had spent all of her existence except for the last four years at Center so she knew the rules and the consequences, but she had heart and joie de vivre, and she guessed this had to be controlled.

Madelyn and Paul had adopted Nikita as a baby. They had learned they couldn’t have children because of an injury Paul received in one of the Vietnam Prison Camps were he had been incarcerated. The Wolfs never kept the adoption hidden. She usually didn’t call her adoptive parents Mom and Dad, but instead Maddie and Ops. She kept the name ‘Wirth’ and knew her biological parents had been Operatives killed in action.

“What aren’t you telling me Dad”, she only called him this when she wanted to disarm him. They were holding something back, the training, mission, all the news wasn’t enough to warrant Maddie and Ops banding together against Nikita, she explained the theory to them. “Why would you think that Nikie?” one of them said.

“Because dad/mom let’s face it there has to be something else, don’t be afraid, I won’t bite.” Sarcastically added by an irate Aussie accent.

Continuing Paul slammed his open hands on the desk, leaning menacingly over the table and peering at this daughter. ”Nikita, enough, pay attention. You need to do this like every member of a Section/Center/Oversight. So better make the best of it for you are in for the long run.” Paul drilled.

Nikita turned to her mother who sat wearing a simple Dior white dress and sporting a straw hat she carried around for effect. “Maddy…” Tears streaming down her face.

”It is time to pay the piper my sweet. This is for the best, you’ll see. You don’t have to like it, just do the job. And yes Paul it is the moment, Nikita you have to marry Michael, it was decided before you were adopted my dear.”

Nikita let out a hoot, “What is this the 1600s or some third world country?”

Her parents continued, and her sunglasses quickly were discarded when she saw the hologram image of the incredible Michael Samuelle. She was paying attention now; the camera panned around Michael and she could see all of him. The audio portion of the presentation recited Michael’s statistics, Level 7 status and single, never been married.

‘If he is as yummy as he seems, perhaps this won’t be the hell I expect.’ she thought he’d be easy to rope and enjoy, easy work for easy pay. The dye was cast; Nikita was Michael Samuelle’s material. She hated the sound of that even if he was a deity, but there was no sense in fighting this, hours had passed, it was time to acquiesce.

-*-

At the same time on another part of the city Michael Samuelle was reading the Intel on his new material. His father Mr. Jones had summons him to Oversight to talk about this assignment. “Michael, it is an arrangement with an old colleague and a good friend. Hell it is not a favor; you have known this was coming it is your destiny. ”

“Pappa with all due respect” Michael said in French “I am too busy to baby sit a bratty 22 year old, to marry in love is a chore, but this, now.”

“English Michael” Adrian said and added “George is this truly necessary. After all Michael is a great catch, he is a Level 7, head of Section I.”

“She is beautiful, no Michael? George tried not to answer Adrian, but he looked into her rich green eyes and melted as he had done for 40 years. “Here, it is not as though you have to love her, marry her become “Complete”, Michael please, how hard can it be, and …it is necessary Adrian.”

Michael took the photograph being handed in his strong hands, a sense of longing immediately conflicted him. “Yes she is beautiful, I’ll do it, for two years that is all, let’s call it her post graduate, not a day more. And I am not doing it for her beauty, I am doing it for Maman’s beauty.” But Michael had felt cupid’s arrow pierce his tough heart.

The trio laughed out loud and continued conversing of other issues. Michael was the Samuelle’s eldest. They had a daughter, Renee who was the Operations of Section 2 a high tech Section, no Cold Ops. Her husband Seymour Birkoff was a very capable, and nerdy Com Director for the same Section. No grandchildren yet.

Michael, his parents agreed, was an extremely serious, hardworking, enormously conscientious individual. He never seemed to have fun; having dated a string of Operatives, but never anyone he cared to introduce to them. Michael was now 26, the couple thought it was time he fell in love, married and settled down.

Michael was about to take over Section I and he needed to be “Complete”. Rules were rules, and this “Complete” rule was the only one Michael had ignored. Ms. Wirth would be Michael’s final apprentice. The Samuelle’s were counting on the girl’s overwhelming spirit to borough into their son’s empty heart. Running Oversight someday was Michael’s destiny, the Heir Apparent, he just needed a wife.

Michael finished the visit and thought he would start towards Section I, his Georgio Armani black suit, black Givanchi shirt and tie would replace the more relaxed Dolce and Gabana blue jeans and hunter green sweater he had been wearing when he first arrived in his parents’ home. He went into his father’s study before changing and one last time to bid his folks adieu.

Michael was told to stick around for the afternoon and dinner for Nikita and the Wolf’s would be joining them, some impromptu invitation and a chance for Michael to take her back to Section I. Michael told them he was not properly dressed, they said non-sense, he said he didn’t want to meet her out of Section I, his mother said “C’est tout Mishel.”

“Mother” in English this time and beleaguered by the thought that he could not put this off any longer “I will train this girl my way, she will become my right hand. I will not put her through the usual steps that all trainees go through, I’ll marry her if you want, but please don’t make me change my way of living right now because of her, I am not a child.”

George responded, not Adrian “Michael the training is a Mission like any other, you can carry it on as you please; now is pleasure I want my son to share with us in an afternoon with friends.”

“Please, I have things to do tonight.” He almost begged a little apprehensive about this meeting out of what he considered his turf. He did sound like a petulant child, not a Section I Operative. This was something that was decided before they were even born, an arrangement made by men caged and looking for continuity in their uncertain future.

The Wolf’s had arrived, “Merde” he mouthed, out of hearing range of his parents. Michael’s assessment of Nikita Wirth was that she floated into the room. Dressed in a powder blue Halston number, full skirt to her ankles with tiny buttons that hung open to her mid thigh were matching leggings hugged her slim legs and a wide cloth belt hugged her tiny waist. Her feet covered in the sexiest strappy flat sandals and the top a halter that tied in a bow at the back of the neck.

Her hair in a ponytail held by a matching flower all done in crisp cotton that made her look ‘fresh’. She smelled of patchouli and wore little make-up. Her arm sported a Gucci gold cuff bracelet and her ears tiny gold hoops. Michael expected her to close her parasol if she had been carrying one. “Exquisite” he said to himself before venturing to shake her delicate hands and dive into those blue eyes and drown. His voice deep, hoarse, and a little unsteady.

Nikita’s assessment of Michael was that he took her breath away, powerful to put it in one word. His intense dark looks sent shivers to her nether regions, her heart skipped a beat when he opened his mouth and a thick French accent addressed her parents. His long auburn curls, his superb green eyes the color of the finest emerald, his luscious lips that quirked at the corners when he smiled, and his jaw… Nikita was ‘floating.’

The way his sweater hugged his chest, the way his jeans hugged his thighs, the way his black soft leather jacket crunched as he moved, made Nikita feel as she had never felt before… horny and sex starved. They exchanged pleasantries “Hi” he said to her, with a passion that made her melt. It was going to be hard not to drool before the night ended.

But if there was such a thing as love at first sight Michael and Nikita, had experienced it. He excused himself to make a phone call, actually to cancel a date with a cute Op from Section 2 that was let us say “easy”. But who wasn’t in Michael’s capable hands? He also needed to regroup; the blonde was making the otherwise unflappable Michael, flappable.

Nikita followed him intently with her eyes. Michael stood to a side talking in hushed tones with the woman, who was not happy at all. Nikita and Michael never took their eyes of each other. To be in their presence all afternoon gave you the feeling that you were playing voyeur in some passionate erotic flik. They flirted, talked, laughed and got along superbly. In a strange way they were accepting the bond created by their fathers.

The Samuelle’s immediately liked the woman that had been the girl they knew and of course the Wolf’s already knew and respected Michael. As for Nikita, she felt strangely lost when he left her in the lower terrace of his parents’ Estate to go answer the phone. She had become fascinated by his tongue could see it peeking from inside his mouth when he smiled or talked. The feeling in the pit of her stomach was more than lust.

Michael, when they stood alone outside couldn’t let go of her hands. He held them, played with her fingers, caressed her palms, raked his nails over them and of course there was the classic eyes, mouth, ears gaze. “I’ve got to get the phone.” He apologized softly.

The Samuelles, the Wolfs, and Michael were interrupted because the Balkan Region had gone hot. He needed to go into Section I Nikita would come with him. He apologized for the motorcycle, explained he had not planned on taking her back this afternoon. She smiled, asked for a helmet and a bathroom to change into jeans and a sweater of her own.

Nikita hugged her parents, cried a little and turned to walk into a new life.

Michael repeated the farewells and whispered to Paul that he would take care of her. Little did the couple know that the Wolfs and the Samuelles or the Jones as they were known, were secretly hoping these two would hit it off or they would have to call off the contract.

-*-

Michael Samuelle, with the weight of the world on his shoulders felt a sense of completion only known by men who had achieved nirvana. Nikita’s arms tightly wrapped around his waist, her face resting on his leather clad back, her whole being seeping into his flesh he wondered if proposing to this woman now would be premature.

They had been speaking, non stop, the entire ride back. The helmets equipped with microphones and headsets helped drone the noise the wind made. Their conversation was about everything, and nothing. She told him her fears, hopes and dreams; he shared his with her with an ease he had never known before. An hour seemed to fly by they arrived at his home, beautiful understated wood and stone two stories Tudor, surrounded by 5 acres of well-guarded paradise, the top of a hill tall enough to sky down in winter.

Nikita looked surprised, she thought they were going to Section. He apologized, blushing, “You are supposed to be on close quarters for the next two years, that means you are not to leave Section, I don’t want that, you can stay here with me, if you want.”

Nikita smiled “Michael, my parents think I am a spoiled brat, they think I can’t do this, I would love to stay with you, but I can’t.” She surprised herself, maturity was creeping in.

Michael acquiesced ”Ok Kita, let us go then, but I will not register you into the program I need to train you my way” and mumbling added in French, “and I don’t think I can be without you now that I’ve met you.”

She smiled to herself French was one of the languages she had perfected while at University. He said “I can’t take you into Section without a good reason.”

Smiling a killer smile he bent down on one knee, outside his front door and said, “Would you be my wife?” Nikita was laughing, very confused and coquettishly replied, “Ok, but Michael I am a sure thing.”

She was disappointed in a way, wanted to take a tour of his home, or have him try to convince her, but he didn’t. She wanted this man; all kinds of fantasies went through her head. Within minutes they arrived at van access. Nikita noticed immediately Michael’s power, he ran Section, even if it wasn’t official. He had been placed there in the interim, for he was not “Complete”, she was in awe and a little afraid of his Section mask firmly in place now. Michael at this moment was Section I, a dangerous, lethal anti-terrorist.

Michael walked holding Nikita’s hand and heads turned. Not a single Operative would dare to comment on the girl; all Operatives that is except Walter.

“Michael, who is this lovely creature?” He asked as he stepped unto their path.

“Walter”, Michael said as he walked and talked to hoards of Operatives asking questions, giving Intel, showing PDA’s, his fingers intertwined with the overwhelmed Nikita. “This is Nikita Wirth, my new material, and she is more than lovely Walter, she is going to be my wife.” He was looking for Nikita’s reaction, but there was none for she was gawking around. Section was nothing like Center; she felt fear and squeezed Michael’s hand.

“A pleasure” she said, not having heard what Michael said.

“Sugar I am the Munitions Expert. We must talk about our boy here.” Walter whispered conspirationally.

By now they were in Michael’s office, which included a window extending the length of the entire Communications Center below. The windows were tinted and no one could see in, but Michael could see what was going on below. Michael quietly was giving orders Nikita sitting were he’d put her next to him; he then addressed her still holding her hand.

“Kita, need to address the Ops going out on the Mission. Would you like to come or would you prefer to stay in my quarters until I can get you settled in.” He said this within a fraction of an inch of her body. His eyes caressing her lips while speaking, his hands holding both of hers and errand thumbs making delicate circles on her over heated skin.

Not being able to control the emotions that were making her feel inebriated, Nikita moved forward and kissed Michael, to his surprise. At first the kiss was just an innocent meeting of two soft lips, but quickly it turned into a war of tongues when Michael took charge of the situation biting her lower lip. He groaned as their bodies touched hip to hip, his arousal raging out of control. “God Kita I have a Mission to prep” and thought ‘what a great distraction, if I don’t take this woman I’ll explode what a quandary.’

As if by an answered prayer, the speaker crackled “Michael” the faceless Op addressed him “the matter has been resolved peacefully, should I cancel the CQ orders?”

“Yes, thank everyone and continue monitoring the area, I’ll be in the Tower.” He said, all the while pulling Nikita towards the elevator, almost in a mad dash.

He never heard the Operatives reply. In the elevator he kissed her with a force that took her breath away, his hand softly caressing the heated skin under her sweater working its way to her breasts.

-*-

The Tower was were Michael “relaxed”. He had brought many a date there and as soon as he got in the elevator and she started kissing him again he realized this and stopped “No Kita I don’t know what is wrong with me, I don’t want it like this with you. You are coming home with me.” He told her this between kisses and commanding the elevator to take them to ground level.

In ground level his driver pulled around the moment he saw the elevator door open. “O’Brien, this is Nikita my fiancé”, O’Brien looked confused but no one questioned the Angel of Death. “A pleasure” he answered and asked “Home?” To wish question Michael just nodded absorbed in Nikita’s blue gaze and the need creating havoc within.

In the car Michael told her he needed to make some calls, he actually needed to disengage. She smiled shyly but aware of the sensuality she was exuding “Michael, is your proposal from before still on the table?”

Michael who had moved and sat across from her had his tented finger playing with his lip. Deep in thought while listening to someone on the phone, he was looking but not seeing her and she felt embarrassed at her brassiness. He surprised her though “Yes.” He answered his eyes filled with excitement and joy as he hung up the phone, mid sentence.

She said, “Then ask me again.”

Michael crossed the back of the limo and put a knee on the floor. Deep green eyes gazing into clear blue ones he said, “I don’t know what has come over me, I don’t want to take advantage of you or the moment. You complete me. Would you marry me?”

Nikita laughed and laid her head on the seat. She had spoken to Carla when she cancelled their date and her friend had told her of Michael’s reputation and his legendary life. He was a woman’s man, he left broken hearts in every crevice of the Organization and the tortured women of the Antiterrorist World were the ones that in hushed tones named him the Angel of Death. “Michael, I’ll sleep with you, hell I’ll spend the next two years as your sex slave is this is what you want, I know I’ll have to marry you, but don’t you be so arrogant as to play with my emotions.” Were did that come from she thought?

He smiled, a sad smile and stroking her eyebrow while still kneeling said, “I guess I deserve that, but Kita, this afternoon when they handed me your photograph I don’t know what happened, I wanted you to be my wife. I know you will not believe me, I guess you’ve heard stories from Carla, but I need to stress that I have fallen in love with you and the proposal was real this afternoon and it is real now. Marry me or I shall die.”

She inhaled, pursed her lips as if thinking, never wondering how he knew about Carla, this was after all Section and said. “We marry right now then.”

Michael picked up her hands and kissed them, first the palms with reverence then her fingers with passion, and after these ministrations he called O’Brien and told him to go to the Chapel on Boulevard Mont de Niege. “You’ll like this Nikita, Father Saminy is a Section Operative that works on the outside.” Not another word was spoken for a couple of moments as both Operatives retreated to their own thoughts.

It was only 6:00 pm and they were wearing mission clothes; Nikita smirked as she realized this and was still not convinced he was in the up and up. He had spoken to O’Brien in Gallic, which she didn’t understand, and Nikita couldn’t believe he was reading her mind when they approached a small boutique in an exclusive street in downtown Paris. O’Brien had called in advance and waiting for them was a beautiful simple white Vera Wang wedding dress with white silk ballet slippers and for Michael an Armani black suit with white crisp shirt and white silk tie. She smiled again and thought, “Slick, this guy is either the most romantic man alive or the smoothest SOB that ever lived.” She blushed when she saw the underwear and stockings.

Nikita was not a fool, she thought as she dressed in the small bathroom of the Chapel that Michael needed to be “Complete” to get his permanent status at Section 1. She was of good stock, Operations daughter, and sworn to him from… always. She decided to talk to him about the predicament she thought she was in, and knew that letting him know where she stood would give her the advantage.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Michael was with Father Saminy in the Sacristy speaking in Italian. The priest was instructing Michael matter of factly, Nikita spoke enough of the language to understand the Father was counseling him in what was expected, needed and allowed in a Catholic marriage.

Michael listened intently and to Nikita’s amazement, he really looked sincere. She started to clear her throat when the two men turned around. There in his eyes she saw… ‘Love’. He gasped, “Kita you are …” she smiled shyly and interrupted “Michael I need to speak with you before we proceed.”

Father Saminy said, “My child, Mishel has told me that he does not want to go through this if you have any doubt, he also wants you, as he has already been, instructed on the Church’s position on Marriage. You know we may be in Section, that your parents may have this contract, but this is the Church. Marriage is the most sacrosanct of sacraments between a man and a woman. The Church does not condone divorce and therefore we must make sure that this union will last Until Death Do You Part.” The Priest went on for a period of approximately one hour, speaking to Nikita and Michael as he would any other couple that wanted to unite in Holly Matrimony.

When he was finished the bride and groom were crying, Michael had effortlessly explained his feelings, how they were strange, new and mysterious. He assured her he had never even been close to feeling this way and related his desires to make with her as beautiful a life as any was possible in Section.

She had listened and then asked Michael to speak with him in private, the Father acquiesced. Sitting side by side in a pew in the small Chapel, she told him, “Michael, I am afraid, I will not lie to you. I woke up this morning and my biggest concern was what Section was I going to head. Tonight I sit in this Sacred Place and know this is the Mission my father spoke about.”

Michael softly, whispering, putting his arm around her, “Ni-ki-ta I don’t know what this is, but I know it is not a Mission. I don’t know how, but I love you.”

She looked at him and saw truth, not control as she had seen in Section, not lust as when he kissed her, not pleasantries as when speaking with her parents, not obedience as when speaking with his parents, not camaraderie as when speaking with Walter; this was something else, this was devotion as when speaking with the Priest. She let out a breath she had been holding and smiled “So what are we waiting for then.” He handed her flowers, the most aromatic gardenias Nikita had ever smelled. She thought she needed time to regroup, but she didn’t have time she feared she would loose him and the moment, and was not sure she would survive.

Michael noticed that she had not said she loved him. But that was allright he would wait, and if she didn’t love him now, she would, he knew it in his heart, one that was filled with the Bride at the moment. She stood, and bent enough to kiss him chastely in those softic lips of his and they walked fingers intertwined to the altar where the Father and now Walter awaited patiently.

A ceremony that lasted but minutes, and Mr. And Mrs. Samuelle were united forever. As Walter had remarked when they drank Dom Perignon 1973 in the Sacristy, “Till Death Do Us Part should be removed from any Section wedding vows.” Walter recounted his wedding to Belinda and everyone laughed, even the groom, his heart was complete. The bride felt the love; she just didn’t want to let her guard down.

-*- (NC-21)

O’Brien after returning to the church took the newly weds to Sections’ airfield.

A small Lear Jet awaited the couple, Michael who had not said much since leaving the church, busy kissing and groping the bride said “How are your flight skills Ni-ki-ta?”

Nikita, chewing on his bottom lip stated, “I can co-pilot fine Michael.” He laughed, “You can, mmmm”, he was busy kissing the small of her back as she got off the car, and back to wearing the clothes they had worn when they first met a scant number of hours before. He had said as he disrobed her, “I wanted to pull this bow of your neck from the moment I saw you.” He immediately had kissed her breast with devotion, commitment and lust. She had moaned, whimpering as his hands slowly started their ascent.

They got on the plane and Michael smirked as she walked to the cabin to find a crew ready to assist them. “Then why…” she questioned he smirked again. “Weren’t referring to that kind of flying.”

She added saucily, “I can fly also Mishel.”

Michael spoke to the Pilot, quickly and succinctly in Portuguese, they smiled at him and took of for the Ivory Coast. A honeymoon to last as long as they wanted; Michael was anxious to make love to his wife, Nikita on the other hand wanted a good “fuck”first from her husband. She told him between soft wet kisses that lasted forever, “The first time needs to be wild and out of control.”

He raised both his eyebrows and separated from her who was gasping with controlled emotion, “You are after all Michael Samuelle, you have a reputation…”he put his finger to her lips as quieting her “Shsh, love we’ll do it anyway you want, anytime you want. Now may I kiss you here… he kissed her first on one eyebrow and then the other. He then kissed her, softly on her eyelids, the side of her face, her cheeks, her ear lobes, her chin. The kisses were soft, full of tongue, little bites and loads of promise.

Nikita whispered, “Michael, please I have never…” she was begging, Michael was so enthralled with his wife that he couldn’t stop. Again “Michael I have never…”

He finally heard her. “Kita are you telling me you are a virgin?”

Nikita shook her head and started to cry “Michael I was with a boy when I was 17, when he was finally brought back into Section I was 19, we hadn’t seen each other for two years and he had changed he wouldn’t take no for an answer and brutally raped and beat me. He was killed on a Mission right after, no one knows about this, so I never even dated again …”

He kissed her gently holding her tightly to his chest soothing her, “My love, I will be gentle or we can wait until you feel secure…”

She interrupted crying but with a glint in her eyes and a catch in her voice, “Michael, I need you, you can cure me, I trust you, I want you to ravish me, we can be gentle later, many times. I want to be …”

Michael made his wife sit on his lap and held her hands in one of his, her face in the other. “Kita I understand why you want it like this, he kissed her hard, I understand you need to feel someone that loves you be rough, he kissed her harder, I will never hurt you, please learn to trust me.” At this point Nikita relaxed rubbing the crack of her ass against Michael’s tremendously engorged member.

He let out a grunt and released her face while anxiously, wildly, but very efficiently, undoing her pants and his fly. Lowering trousers, he was now kissing her tits, with strong suction that made her moan and grind harder. He licked her nipples and then bit them hard. He rolled the wet tips with his fingers and plunged two fingers into her snatch.

Nikita’s prolonged groans and pants made her swoon and when Michael finally rubbed her clit between his index finger and thumb she came with an intensity that made him come too. He could feel her muscles working while he muffled her screams with his mouth, his fingers being milked by Nikita’s incredible spasms. Michael when he felt he was coming moved his wife’s head down to his crotch; she took him into her mouth and started the most amazing blowjob of his life.

He was so sensitized that Michael couldn’t even consciously touch his wife. He was rubbing her breasts and licking her ears and biting her neck were he had determined she liked it without realizing he was doing it. If anyone had seen them they would think these two were contortionists, thank God that Michael had the foresight to keep all personnel out of their side of the plane.

By now they were laying on the floor at a perfect 69, all clothing off. He was relentlessly sucking her clit into his mouth, licking the length of crack he had before him. She was equally sucking him with such abandon that all though had fled her awareness. Their response quotient was out of the chart. They were in “cum” heaven. Their climaxes coming so often they didn’t have time to come down completely from one before the next one took them over.

Michael was speaking strictly in French, impossible to understand because of the moaning and groaning going on. His mouth full with his wife and his body overwhelmed by her body. Nikita on the other hand was out of her mind she was having trouble breathing, she couldn’t get enough of Michael’s dick or his cum.

She cried and begged and uttered commands, “Deeper, harder, more, please, damn, again, there” and on and on.

After the eighth or ninth climax of the 3-hour flight, Nikita said “I love you Michael” and he was ‘Complete.’ He looked at his wife and smiled, a smile that filled his eyes and stretched wide, “So where do you want to live Ni-ki-ta.” She laughed as his dick hit a particularly sensitive spot, and gasping said, “Shut up Mr. Samuelle, and fuck.”

The End

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