PANDORA’S PORNO BOXI wait at my desk.
The young spy comes in,
dressed in a smart sexy business style suit,
the skirt tight and more than above her mid-thigh.
The stockings stop short of the hem.
She crawls under my desk,
pulling my penis out of my pants,
the gaze of addiction in her eyes.
Her fingers manage my cock maniacally
taking my full length deep
into the throat of her flesh,
her tonsils rubbing my member
to an even bigger erection.
She uses her other hand
to begin unbuttoning my shirt,
running her small hand over my chest.
I pull her face off my cock violently
her hair being ripped in my hand,
and she begs,
“Please, sir?
It’s been three days!”
I see her smile as she goes back to sucking,
and I place my hands behind my head,
allowing her to work.
I smell the anticipation of her sex,
and then I see the look in her eyes.
The obedient slut hasn’t even touched
her own pussy.
She orgasms.
She cums buckets over my floor
from the simple pleasure of
my erect dick in her mouth.
I pull her up
and as she straddles me
spreading her legs around me,
taking my member into her cunt,
I fuck her with no effort
as she orgasms three more times:
once when she rode me,
again when I slammed her back on my desk
to pound her missionary style in her shithole
and a final time when I flipped her over
to rape her cunt doggy-style on my desk.
Her lingerie panties are still on.
I ejaculate deep in her cunt
knowing she is now carrying my seed.
She takes a deep breath.
Adjusting her panties a bit
as they were shifted to the side,
pulled down to her knees,
she drops to the floor again,
squatting with her legs spread,
the short skirt showing her soaked cunt
through her soiled panties.
“Thank you, sir” she says.
I pat her head.
She requests,
“Please mark your territory, sir.”
I begin urinating.
She opens her mouth,
spreads her torn shirt even further
exposing her large breasts,
my urine falling down to her cunt
from her messed up yet still sexy hair
to her short skirt.
I slap her face.
She knows her duty.
I watch her shit and piss over my floor,
the puddle of our urine mixing
as she holds her panties aside to excrete.
Dropping to her hands and knees
she proceeds to shove her face
into the waste and smear it over her flesh,
so as she begs to lick my feet
I allow her.
I point to the black box
given to her at a previous intelligence meeting
It is vacuum sealed military air tight.
She repeats the instructions given before meeting me,
“So I start at the first designated Airport,
open the box and take a world tour
not leaving any airports
until I return here, Sir.”
I nod.
She wants to know,
“What’s in the box, Sir?”
I take a small syringe from my desk,
clearly marked “antidote”
as she accepts she will receive it only after
she returns successfully completely.
She accepts only I have the cure.
My surveillance teams monitoring her constantly.
Her business sense takes over,
“My payment, sir?”
She looks surprised when I hand her a file
as she questions curiously,
“in advance?”
She opens the file knowing her orphan childhood,
sees the images of her parents
and finally learns her name,
her incomplete past being finished.
Only the knowledge of her name
being payment for this mission.
Pleased with the name her parents gave her,
she comments with a content smile,
“Pandora!”
In Rome International Airport,
a crowded place,
her hands shake as she opens the black box,
only the name of the disease
carved on the inside bottom
which she gasps in horror upon realization,
tears never stopping from her eyes
as she says to herself,
“AIRBORNE H.I.V.”
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