The XXX Files Season Two (Episodes 5-8) (15 page)

“Fuck yeah, Courtney. Fuck yeah!” he screamed. “Why is your pussy so HOT? Oh, my GOD — you’re so hot and WET!”

“Because I’ve been waiting two days for you, asshole,” she panted.
 

He fucked her harder, laughing as he did. “Long wait?”
 

“Yeah,” she moaned, “you spoiled me.”
 

Courtney’s cunt wrapped Brad’s giant basher like a leather glove, the veins of his dick tickling the grooves of her gusher as he kept slamming inside her.
 

Courtney screamed: “Mmmmmm ... oooohhhhh, oh, OH!”
 

“GOD, yes!” Brad met her moaning, then just as his cock was nearing eruption, he flipped her over.
 

Courtney took him into her mouth, greedily sucking as he came hard, screaming “AAAAHHHH YEAAAAA,” as shot after shot of hot cum spurted into her hungry, waiting mouth.
 

“Mmmmm,” she moaned, eagerly lapping at his dick until every drop was MIA. When finished, Courtney didn’t stop. She pushed Brad from her body, maneuvered herself into a better angle, then continued to suck and lick him. He was still half-erect, and getting thicker with every flick of her tongue.
 

She tickled his balls, suckling gently, until his shaft had hardened back to a pole, then she slowly dragged the flat of her tongue all the way down it, and kept going until she reached his ass, where she stabbed at his starfish.

“Oh, my GOD!” he groaned, tangling his fingers into her hair.
 

Courtney licked harder then went back to his balls, and eventually to his shaft, licking and sucking. Her hot mouth was driving him nuts. Brad grunted, “Oh, JESUS, fuck!” as he lifted his ass from the bed.

“Mmmm,” Courtney hummed, enjoying her tease.

Brad pulled her to her knees, kissed her hard, then flipped her over again.
 

“Uh, uh, not yet,” she said. “You made me wait, now you have to use this.” Courtney scooted up on the bed, then reached underneath and grabbed something she had clearly readied ahead of time — a glass dildo, nearly as long though nowhere near as thick as Brad.
 

“I want you to fuck my ass. Two holes at once. Here,” she tossed the dildo on the bed beside him. “Use this.”
 

“Oh, god, you are so
fucking
hot!” Brad groaned, pulling Courtney towards him. He stood, bent her over the bed, slid the dildo into her sloppy, wet pussy, and coated the entire thing in a river of juices. Courtney groaned, deep as a gully, her pussy slick and the dildo glistening. He rammed it harder, pulling a scream from inside her before positioning his cock in front of her ass and gently probing her.
 

 
“Two days,” she grunted. “Two days you’ve made me wait. Now you better fuck my hot ass HARD!”
 

“You can always fuck yourself and think of me,” Brad said as he slid deeper inside her, until he was buried to the hilt in back while the dildo completely filled her pussy up front.

“It’s not the same,” Courtney whimpered. Brad could see her twisted face in the mirror, looking near tears from the pressure of two long pipes inside her.
 

“Oohhh” she moaned, probably unable to make any words. Brad recognized her rumble and knew she was seconds from her second cumming. He loved this part so much, especially the screams, tighter and louder and more desperate than the rest.
 

As Courtney twitched, Brad went to town on her ass, digging his fingers into her hips with one hand, while the other hand slammed the dildo in and out of her fuckhole. Courtney’s ass was tight and warm, squeezing his cock even harder than her cunt. Brad kept fucking her harder and harder and faster and faster until she came again, this time screeching with the loudest scream of the morning.
 

“Eeeeeeeee!!!” Brad kept mashing her tight holes. “FUUUCCKK!!!”

Brad dropped the dildo, grabbed Courtney’s hips, and slammed inside her until his second cup of vanilla shot from his dicktip into her tight asshole.
 

“Oh, my Lord up in Heaven, Hammer” she groaned as he pulled himself from her hole and watched her collapse on the bed. “That was SO worth the wait.”
 

Brad lay beside her, covered in sweat and cum, grunting.
 

“Crap,” Brad said.

“What?” Courtney asked, seeming genuinely worried.
 

“I’ve been asleep for two days,” he yawned, “and now all I want to do is fall asleep again.”
 

She laughed. “Rest, my love. You deserve it. Maybe when you wake up we can do that again.”
 

Brad was already drifting beneath sleep’s beautiful surface. He heard himself snore a few seconds later, then was deep underneath less than a minute after that.
 

XXX

CHAPTER 6 — Brad Hammer

Brad woke to his phone loudly buzzing, banging against the night stand. Groggy, he fumbled blindly until he felt the hard plastic and glossy glass in his hand.
 

“Hello,” he said, hoarsely whispering into the phone, not even bothering to look at the screen and see who it was.
 

“Hammer?”
 

“Yeah,” he said, looking over at Courtney, snoring loudly. It was too dark to see much more than a shape, but despite the rumbles rolling from her nose and throat, the shape seemed mostly dead.
 

I fucked her into a coma.

The voice was familiar, but Brad couldn’t place it, not with only a single word to go on, or the thick fog of earliest morning confusion clouding his head. “Yeah,” he repeated.
 

“I have the info you wanted.”
 

It’s Thaddeus.
 

“Is this Thaddeus?”

“Of course,” the voice said. “Who else would it be?”

Umm ... anyone?
 

“What time is it?”
 

A slight pause, then Thaddeus
 
said, “11:12.”

“A.M. or p.m.?” Brad felt stupid for asking.
 

“P.M.,” Thaddeus said, then, “You OK, Hammer?”
 

“Yeah, I’ve just been out for a bit I guess. Don’t you think it’s a little late to be calling?”
 

“No,” he said, and for the first time Brad realized Thaddeus was trying to keep an edge of panic from his voice. “I got the info you asked me to get, and you said to call you
as soon
as I had it. You wouldn’t want this to wait until morning. Besides, I
have
to tell you now.” Brad could hear Thaddeus swallow.
 

Something about his voice sent a chill through his body. The guy was terrified.
 

“OK, shoot,” Brad said, feeling cautious. “What do you have?”
 

“Not over the phone. I need to tell you in person. Can we meet?”

“Yeah, of course.” He looked over at Courtney’s still body just as she croaked another snore through her nose. He didn’t want to leave her
again
, especially after she had taken care of him for days after his idiot accident with the Bigfoot. “How does the morning sound? I can get there first thing.”
 

Thaddeus paused too long, and Brad’s heart skipped a beat. He knew what the hoarding fuck was going to say before he did. “Now, Hammer. It has to be
now
.”
 

The guy was clearly scared shitless, and trying without much success to keep the fear from killing every other note in his voice. Brad swallowed. “I’ll be right there. Twenty minutes.”
 

He killed the call, dropped the phone on the nightstand, threw the covers from his body, got out of bed, grabbed a pair of jeans, T-shirt and socks, got dressed, then leaned into the bed, kissed Courtney on her cheek, grabbed his gun, and slipped on his shoes as he slipped out the door. Brad was turning the key in his Lincoln less than two minutes after ending his call with Thaddeus.
 

He pulled into the street and floored it.
 

He raced across town and managed to pull up to Thaddeus’ apartment in 14 minutes, though the trip would have usually nudged a half hour, at least. He opened the door, oddly nervous, his heart beating fast and sweat beading his brow. His instincts screamed, hating everything about this, and not trusting the something in Thaddeus’ voice that wasn’t just afraid, but intimidated, working overtime not to melt into panic.
 

Hammer pounded on the door, not at all surprised to hear nothing in return.
 

“Thaddeus!” he yelled, pounding again, harder.
 

Nothing.

Hammer didn’t bother knocking a third time. He drew his gun, kicked in the door, and tore into Thaddeus’ pitch-black apartment, his heart racing as he held his gun in front of him. “Thaddeus!” he yelled,
knowing
he would hear no response.
 

He flipped on the light. What he saw would have normally had him thinking the house had been ransacked looking for answers — piles of garbage, magazines, broken electronics, furniture harboring high mountains of paper — but this was what Thaddeus’ place looked like when he was expecting company.
 

“Thaddeus!” Brad cried out again, his gun still held a bent arm’s length in front of him as he crept through the cluttered apartment, rounding the giant fridge in the not-too-large living room, then heading through the kitchen, empty of breathing, save for his own, but piled high with an endless array of dirty dishes, open containers of food and smears of grease across the counter, almost glowing in the kitchen’s dim light.
 

In the hallway just outside the kitchen, Brad saw what was once one of Division 69’s best and brightest minds — before about a hundred too many trips with DMT — wearing the same Van Halen tee he had been wearing when last Brad saw him.

But this time Thaddeus wasn’t prattling. He would never whisper another word, and his bright mind would never light again. Not with a neat hole in his forehead, and about a gallon of blood in a sticky blanket under his body.
 

Thaddeus was dead, and although he could feel the shooter gone, Brad
knew
he was the next target, and that the horror was only just starting.
 

TO BE CONTINUED ...

EPISODE 8

CHAPTER 1 — Brad Hammer

Brad looked from Thaddeus’ dead body and into his dimly lit, cluttered apartment, searching everywhere and wondering what he should do. Half of his instincts were ordering him to get the fuck out since whoever ended Thaddeus was likely after him, and probably not too far away, if not watching the place right now. The other half wanted to tear the apartment to pieces.
 

Where would I even start?
 

Spatz — the geeky former Division 69 scientist turned erotica e-book writer — might know something, if he wasn’t somehow behind the hit.
 

Brad tore from the apartment, hopped in his Lincoln, and raced across town, scrolling through his contacts while steering and hoping to goddamn hell that he had the most current information.
 

Spatz lived almost exactly halfway between Brad and Thaddeus, in the back house of a duplex in a quiet residential neighborhood. He swung up onto the lawn, opened the Lincoln without closing the door, then marched past the first house and into the back. Without bothering to knock, he kicked the door in, gun drawn, and marched through the house looking for Spatz.
 

Brad found him sound asleep in his bedroom. His snores were deep — though not as deep as Courtney’s — and almost enough by themselves to convince Brad of his innocence. It would be hard to believe anyone could kill Thaddeus, race back home, hop into bed, and be halfway to dead before Brad got there when he figured the shooter had him by 20 minutes at the most. That didn’t stop Brad from leaping onto Spatz’ bed, climbing on top of his body, and shoving his gun in between his lips.
 

“Wake the fuck up!”
 

Spatz opened his eyes so wide they looked like they were about to roll from their sockets and onto his floor. They started leaking immediately.
 

Fucking pussy.

Brad growled, “Who did you tell?”

“What?” he whimpered. His eyes flashing with confused terror. Even if Spatz hadn’t pulled the trigger — which Brad couldn’t really see him doing at all — he might have had
something
to do with his death. If Thaddeus was to be believed, then the asshole in bed was the only one he told about the transmitter in Brad’s arm.
 

He took the butt of his gun and slammed it hard into Spatz’s shoulder. Spatz cried out like a fallen soldier. Brad repeated, “Who did you tell?”
 

Spatz said, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” so Brad took the butt of his gun and slammed it hard onto Spatz’s opposite shoulder, hoping to jog his memory.