("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW! Thank you... _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: diplomat.txt (mmf,share) Authors name: rodsti@hotmail.com (Rod Stiffener) Story title : DIPLOMATIC INCIDENT == == == This work is copyrighted to the author. No changes may be made to this story, and the author information must remain intact. This work may be copied freely for non- profit purposes only. == == == I am a First Secretary at our Embassy, one of several such diplomats who are next rank down from the Ambassador himself. That means I have to tread the cocktail circuit a fair bit, which frankly is a bore. It sounds great to be out partying as a profession, but unfortunately you have to stay fairly sober, mind what you say to people, and listen to all their bullshit. After you've been for a while posted in one place, it gets to be the same old people talking the same old bullshit. But I have to do it, as "networking" goes with the territory. And you do pick up some interesting gossip from those for whom the novelty of unlimited free drinks has not yet worn off. The one oasis in this social desert was the functions held at the Residence of the new British Ambassador. He was an old fart, but his wife Samantha was smashing. Smashing to look at, I mean. When in his forties, he had wed a young show-biz type in her early twenties. Since he was now around sixty, that made her almost forty. She was about 5'5" and built along Teri Hatcher lines, but a wee bit plumper with the onset of mid-life. This made her breasts a tad bigger, her arse fuller and her tummy a bit more rounded. All of which, Monroe-fashion, simply added more dangerous curves. And she liked to dress up for functions. Not ornately, but simply and sexily. Her favourite was backless gowns of elegant cut with the hem just above the knee. Great legs. He obviously liked her to show off her figure with clinging outfits of thin fabric, and he always seemed to beam with pride when she was on his arm. Yes, well chosen, Harry. So there we all were, the diplomatic corps regulars plus the usual sprinkling of social climbers who always put their names on Embassy resident-nationals lists. We were quaffing wine and finger-food in honour of some state occasion. It really was the type of dreary little nation where there was nothing interesting to do except drink and fornicate. More on the latter later. It was getting toward the end of the evening, and I had just finished listening to a local politician griping away about this and that. I got away from him and joined a colleague over in a corner. He had just finished being chatted to by Samantha. She had joined another group and now had her back to us. As usual she looked great. Tonight her volup- tuousness was clad in a matt-black dress that stopped above her knees and had splits partway up the sides. It left her shoulder-blades bare, except for thin straps which ran over and secured (not all that tightly) the two triangles of fabric in front which covered her chest. The width of these was only just adequate to conceal her breasts, and her nipples were easily discernable under the thin covering. Each breast would wobble pleasingly as she moved about. Her long dark hair was piled up in an elegant coiffure, and she had a single short strand of pearls around her neck, worn like a "choker". Gazing at her derriere, I could not see even a hint of a panty line to mar the shape of each arse cheek (curious, I thought). The dress fabric fell across the curve of her bum so faithfully that it even hugged into the cleft in between. "So, what did she have to say for herself?" I said to my colleague. "She talks about nothing very much, but in an entertaining way." "Well, if you don't want to listen I guess you can always just look." "Actually, I could hardly tear my eyes away from her tits," he murmured. "And there may be hope for somebody. I have heard some scuttlebutt that she may not just be a case of Can See Can't Touch." "Yeah, right; when we finally get a spunky-looking Mrs Ambassador over here, someone's bound to go and say that." "No, I have it on good authority. It could well be that she likes a young stallion now and again. My source says that young Martin from the French Embassy was noticably absent near the end of last month's do, for about half an hour. And so was she." "I didn't notice, and I was there." "You should be more observant, then." "So you think he went up to view her etchings?" "Unless it was coincidence, but my informant thinks not." I filed this away in my brain under "I" for "Intriguing", and we separated to circulate some more. I gravitated toward her group, and ended up in conversation with her for about a minute. It was just the usual politely-interested "Who are you, and how long have you been in this place" sort of stuff from her, pitched at a professional level but with a twinkle in her eye all the same. She held a glass of white wine, and seemed to be just a little bit tipsy. Her accent was very proper BBC English, probably calculatedly so, as the occasional word would betray slightly more provincial origins. My colleague was right about her breasts. They were magnificent. The black material of her dress might as well have been spray-painted on, for all the good they did at stopping you seeing exactly what her boobs looked like. About a C cup, very full and round, and slightly pendulous. When she moved, they moved too. The two raised bumps caused by her nipples were particularly enticing. I got the slight impression that she was checking me out too, because she was regarding me a bit more intently than our "sweet nothings" level of conversation really warranted. She turned and leaned forward a bit to pick up a smoked-salmon tidbit from a passing tray, and the movement created a bit of slack in one shoulder strap. The fabric of her dress fell forward slightly and afforded me an excellent profile view of the curve of her upper breast, almost down to the fairly-prominent nipple. It was just a glimpse, as she turned back and popped the salmon between her lips. "Mmmm ... " she said of the salmon, "truly sex-on-a- plate ..." Before I could think of anything to say to that, some- one else buttonholed her and I retreated. I sat by myself on a sofa in a side alcove and nursed my drink. The glimpse of her breast had caused a sudden hot tingling all around the back of my neck, and I was savouring those feelings. This woman excited me beyond belief. Next, to my surprise, she and a gentleman came and sat on a sofa directly opposite me, about 15 feet away. They were in conversation (don't ask me what about!), and she didn't look my way at all. I could see something of her smooth thighs, though her legs were crossed and this stopped anyone looking right up her skirt. But then, still talking to her companion, she uncrossed her legs quite slowly and then recrossed them the other way. Again it was just a glimpse, but under the tent made by that momentarily-tightened short skirt I saw what was practically a naked pussy. I say practically naked, because the gusset of whatever passed for panties was, across her vaginal area, really just a loose strip of scallop-edged black lace no more than about half an inch wide. It did not so much cover the lips to her entrance as disappear into them, and into the crack of her arse. She had very little pubic hair in that area, just a dusting of fine black hairs on the crest of those pale fleshy lips. Of course this had to have been deliberate. One does not succeed as a short-skirted socialite without knowing exactly which way one's pussy is pointing. Or at whom, for that matter. Had my colleague been thinking along the right track? If so, then she must be quite a sexual opportunist to be wearing knickers like that on a state occasion. The gentleman opposite tore himself away from the vision of her breasts to go and freshen his drink. She stood up, and for the first time glanced briefly my way. If I had blinked I would have missed it, but she jerked her head very slightly in a silent "Follow me." Then she strolled toward the main staircase. Heading for the stairs was not of itself unusual behaviour, since the Ladies and Gents rooms were off the upstairs mezzanine. But giving me the nod to follow was certainly unusual for a Mrs Ambassador. My better judgement was saying "Don't even think about it!" I didn't know what she had in mind for us, but it clearly involved going somewhere more private. And for two people of our social standing, this was taking a huge risk. For me, any scandal would get me sent to a posting in Antarctica. But I found about a minute later that I was indeed thinking about it, not only that, I was up and my feet were moving. Once upstairs she headed past the Ladies and on down the long corridor. Twenty yards or so behind, I admired the swaying of her arse as she stalked along on her high heels. My brains had definitely moved to regions south, because, having entranced me with deliberately-revealed bits of herself, she was now practically leading me along by my dick. Only when she got to the far door did she turn and look back to check if I was coming. She was waiting inside the darkened room when I got there, and she closed the door behind us. "Glad you could make it." She stood close in front of me, and without further ado she put her hand right on the front of my trousers. My dick was only about a half-fat at the time, reflecting my mix of anticipation yet uncertainty over the agenda for this meeting. But when she started rubbing the palm of her hand up and down it a few times, there was soon a ridgepole making a tent in my fly. "It was soooo boring listening to those old fossils. I had to get away for at least a moment." "You're not worried about us creating a diplomatic incident?" I paid final lip-service to propriety. "Darrrling! I adore diplomatic incidents! That's why I enticed you up here." My fly got unzipped, and she fished out my now- hardened penis. She sank to her knees, and took the head straight into her mouth. Soft lips closed around it and her head started bobbing up and down. I gasped. It felt great! Teeth well out of the way, just encircling lips, swirling tongue, and velvety cheek linings clinging to my pole as they sucked-in on each outstroke. She was clearly well-practiced at the art of blowing. I mellowed out and just enjoyed the sensations in my prick. Adjusting to the light, I noticed for the first time that we were in a large dining room. It was dimly lit through the windows by the glow of some lamps out in the grounds below. Expensively but tastefully furnished in a Victorian style, with oil paintings on the walls, antique sideboards of dark mahogany or walnut, a central chandelier, and a substantial dining table that could seat about a dozen. Its french-polished surface gleamed in the twilight. I looked down at Samantha's expensively-coiffured head as it bobbed up and down. One hand was pumping my engorged prick as she sucked. Her other hand was under the hem of her black gown, pressed between her legs. She pulled back from my cock and stood up. "Okay, its good and hard. Now fuck me with it." Who could resist an invitation like that? My ears seemed to burn at the hearing of it. At the same time, why was she in such a hurry? I backed her up against that huge table. She slipped her bottom up onto it, and lay back on her elbows. I grabbed each ankle and spread her legs out wide, so that they formed a "vee" in the air. Parting them had made her short dress ride up to the tops of her thighs, so her scantily-clad fanny was now nicely displayed. I leaned forward and licked my tongue down her inner thighs then over her bulging sit-sac. It was now possible to unravel the mystery of the panties. They were basically a black G-string, made from a narrow triangle of lace-edged silk which tried but failed to adequately cover her mound. The lower point of this triangle tapered off altogether just above the clit area. This meant that the only thing covering the entrance to her vagina was a narrow lacy ribbon; it ran between her legs and up her arsecrack to join the thin straps of the waistbands at the small of her back. No wonder there was no panty line! Since the lacy ribbon had a certain amount of slack in it, I was able to just pull it to one side with my teeth. My tongue glided over her bare lips, going from anus to clitoral hood. She shuddered. I did it again, with the same result. Her fine, straight black pussy hairs were a stark contrast against the pale skin of her mound, like little engraved lines all pointing inward toward the pinkness at bottom dead centre. Poking one finger at the soft, yielding vaginal lips, it was swallowed up in a scalding wetness that seemed to give off heat like a furnace. "Fuck me." Thanks for reminding me. I stood and put one of her legs straight up on my shoulder, the other I bent at the knee and laid sideways on the table. Holding my cockhead against her entrance and taking aim, I heaved it in with a single thrust. Her head flew back and she gasped with the suddenness of it. Pearls gleamed across her throat. I felt encased in a hot moistness that seemed to suck at my dick. I reached forward and pulled the straps of her dress down off her shoulders as I started my fuck-motion. The hills made by her breasts rocked back up toward her armpits in time to each thrust. I love to watch as breasts are rolling around like that in response to my humping. I grabbed one and squeezed it firmly, my fingers digging in a bit. It completely filled my hand with its softness, with some to spare. I held the stiff little teat between thumb and forefinger and tugged it in time with my fuck movements, lifting the whole breast up into a pointed cone on each pull. She was starting to make a little bit of noise, just soft- ly going "Uuuuh! Uuuuh!" in time with my strokes. To me her passage felt very pleasant indeed, being moderately tight and well lubricated. I was just starting to get that familiar feeling in the base of my cock which warrants an increase in tempo, when suddenly the room's lights snapped on. "Starting without me again, my dear?" It was Harry! He closed the door and stood there, in immaculate evening dress, taking in the sight of his wife on her back with legs wide apart, being thoroughly fucked by one of his guests. I froze. I was mortified. Luckily he was British, as they don't normally carry guns. But the next exchange of remarks were not what I expected in a scene like this. "Darrling! I was just getting it warmed up for you." Samantha's expression was far from fearful, in fact she had on a slight smirk, like the cat that ate the cream. Or that was just about to. "Well, come on man! Don't keep the lady waiting!" "Eh?" I was standing stock-still, with my cock buried deep inside her. Somehow it seemed more polite to stay well inserted, rather than flop my willy out to where old Harry might see it. "Finish her off. She wants to come. And I want to watch." "Your guests ... ?" "... are leaving. My staff are showing them out. Now get on with it." Well, I wanted to come too, despite the weirdness of the situation. And it explained why Samantha had wanted to cut right to the chase with me - she had WANTED her husband to walk in and see her already fucking with someone else! I restarted the humping and picked up speed. Harry walked around to the other side of the table, and Samantha lay down full-length till her head nearly reached right across. She was slithering about a bit on the french-polished surface, and I had to grip her thighs firmly so she didn't skate away with each thrust. Harry had his dick hanging out of his fly, and though he was well hung, all it did was hang. That's right, it was completely limp. Not even a hint of an erection. He didn't bat an eyelid about it though, and, moving in closer, Samantha was able to tip her head right back and take it into her mouth. It still didn't get hard, though. My fuck motions were causing Harry's flaccid dick to stretch out thinner as Sam slid away from him, then squash down fatter as she slid back again. It was like watching the locomotion of a sea anenome. Samantha's vaginal walls started convulsively tightening around my cock. She released her husbands soft cock from her mouth, so that she could make noise again. "Oh-fuck. Oh-fuck. Oh-fuck. Ooooohhhhhhh!". The cunt-squeezing was too much for me, my tempo became frantic. Then she went all quiet, arched her back and turned her head away with eyes tight shut in concentration. Her breasts shook as her body gave lots of little shudders. I was now close to the edge myself, feeling stuff welling up from my balls and not caring who might be watching, I just wanted to get my cockend going in harder and deeper. "Come right in her. I want your spunk right up inside her." Okay Harry, here goes!. Each spurt followed hard on the heels of a huge thrust that buried my cockhead as deeply as it could go. I forgot all about where I was, who I was, who I was fucking, or even whether I could be hurting her. I just got totally lost in that moment when one's prick becomes the centre of the Universe, and you want it as far up into a warm Black Hole as is physically possible. But Harry had no time for Metaphysics, he wanted me out of the way. Back on my side of the table now, he steered me firmly aside the instant I came to a stop. "Quick, I want to see what you've done in there." Samantha pulled her legs up till her feet were on the tabletop with knees bent, like a woman in labour. Harry bent down and looked right up her twat. I looked over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. "Yes! I can see his spunk right there in your hole!" He used his hands to spread her pussy out until it was gaping wide. Sure enough, a whitish glob of my semen was sitting inside, a contrast against the pink, pulpy vaginal walls. He dabbed it up with his fingertip and smeared it out along the edges of her entrance. I could see that his prick was now quite respectably erect. Usably erect, in fact. "Get up dear, I want you on top of me." Harry wriggled onto the table-top and lay on his back, long fat dick held straight up out of his trouser front like a pylon. Sam stood on the tabletop, hitched up her skirt and crouched down onto him. From my vantage point I saw Harry's cock bend a bit as her pussy lips took the strain of being parted by its huge head, but in the next moment she had eased herself down onto it. Putting her hands palmdown on the table behind her to take her weight, she started raising and lowering her pelvis rhythmically, sliding her twat up and down that enormous rubbery cock. After a while my semen began to seep down out of her and onto him. The shiny translucent whiteness of it covered his prick in a thin film, and got wiped off onto her where it formed a halo around her tightly-stretched vaginal lips. Her glass of white wine was still on the table where she had left it. I picked it up and held it to her lips. She sipped, but bumped the glass with her chin in mid- hump and wine spilled down onto her breasts. It soaked into the front of the black dress which was now all bunched up around her waist. I stooped and licked the rivulets of wine from the skin of the nearest soft and undulating breast, paying particular attention to the hard nipple. Harry lay back with his hands folded behind his head to prop it up and improve his view of us. I took the glass again and slowly poured the remainder of the wine down her lower belly, so it ran over her mound and around Harry's embedded cock. The black silk of the G-string got pasted to her pubic area by the drenching. I put my hand under the silk covering and ran my fingers over her smooth, near-hairless mound - just light strokes with my fingertips, up, down and around. My middle finger located her clit which could be felt peeping from its fleshy inverted-vee hood. I continued cupping her mons with the middle finger doing tiny, light circles on this little bud. My finger occasionally bumped against Harry's pistoning cock at the junction between the two of them. My mouth found her full breast again and I gave it a thorough exploration, licking my tongue along its milky-white sides to her armpit and back over its softness to the pink nipple. I sucked the nipple firmly into my mouth and anchored it there between my lips. Holding my head stationary, I didn't have to do anything as her increasingly violent movements tugged the breast about for me. My dick, which hadn't softened much anyway, was now fully hard again. She came a second time, in hard juddering movements that broke her humping rhythm up into chaotic spasms. Her legs were a bit rubbery after this, but Harry still hadn't come. "Turn over, dearest, and I'll get behind you." She got off and went down on all fours, resting down on her elbows with arse in the air. The striplike "gusset" of her G-string ran crookedy up past one side of her crack, and there was absolutely no need to remove it. Her vulva was wide open and waiting. She faced me, and Harry got behind her on the tabletop so that her pale heart-shaped arse was silhouetted perfectly against his dark dinner suit. He launched into her with a vehemence that betrayed a need to come soon, and come hard. I stood on tiptoe so my cock was level with her mouth. She got the hint and slurped at it, but it was hard to fellate me properly because of Harry pounding away at the other end. She just sucked me into her mouth and held me there, which felt good anyway because Harry's movements into her caused her to move on me. I reached under with both hands, and let the ends of those magnificent swaying breasts brush against my upturned palms. We stayed like this for a several minutes as Harry maintained a steady motion and I just revelled in the new sensations being applied to my twitching dick. Then Harry started making piggy grunting noises, and his face went beet-red. I hoped he was fit enough for this level of activity. Gripping her hips tightly, he heaved himself into her full-force and went "Aaaaaaaaaaaaa -aaa-aaa-aaaah!" I shot moments later. The violence being done at the other end caused my cock to come out of Samantha's mouth momentarily, but she recovered it. This left a couple of shots of jism on her nose and cheek, while the rest went against the back of her throat. Harry de-cunted and stood there breathing hard, dick already softening in his hand. Samantha gave me a last bit of sucking to wring out the final drops of my jism. Then she just rolled away onto her back and lay there, semi-comatose, dress up around her waist and legs akimbo. Harry had produced a fair jugful of cream which, added to mine, meant that Sam's cunt runneth over. A whitish trail was creeping out of the pretty pink folds of her vaginal entrance to pool in the crack by her arsehole. I remembered my manners in front of a Mr Ambassador and put my now-aching cock back in my pants. Harry stowed his away too. "Well done, young fella! I really got it off that time." "I don't understand! Did you plan all this?" "You bet! Sam and I chose you together. Of course, she had to lay the bait to get you up here." "Why? If I were you, I would want to keep her all to myself!" "Ah, there's a problem there. I had something done to my prostate two years ago, and its been difficult to get it up ever since. Only when I give vent to my wildest fantasies can I get any signs of life out of the old fella." "And my biggest thrill with my darling wife comes from seeing someone else screw her first. The idea of plunging my tool into another bloke's leftovers is an almost guaranteed cock-stiffener. Sam is glad that it pleases me, and I think it pleases her to have some fresh meat now and again." "We have to choose carefully though, discretion and all that. There was a chap from the French Embassy but he is being transferred and we need a replacement." "Of course you won't mention this to anyone. It would be a blot on your career if this got about. Best keep your mouth shut and join in the fun. In for a penny, in for a pound, eh?" "By the way, Sam is able to take it up the bottom as well, you know." Once again, my senses were reeling. "Next time ..." I replied. Samantha didn't say anything, or even open her eyes. But her cum-daubed lips formed into a very satisfied smile. ___________________________________________________ Kristen's collection - Directory 8 - Text 8364