I hear the front door to the apartment swing open. It hits the wall, hard. I jolt awake and peek over the back of the couch. A girl in tactical gear is standing in the doorway, leaning her forehead against the frame. Her eyes closed. In one hand dangles a duffle bag full of who knows what. In the other is a carbine. The exposed parts caked with shiny black carbon. 
She takes a deep, exhausted breath. Suddenly she tears off her plate carrier like it's suffocating her, the black pouches absorbing the tired yellow light from the lamp above the door. Her white shirt flashes brilliantly, and her black tie arcs like a dolphin out of the water when she finally drops the plate carrier to the floor like it's an old sock. She leaves her carbine on a table and throws a heavy holster alongside it. 
The girl marches towards me. Not a single emotion on her face. Not a single feeling in her eyes. In the dimly lit confines of the apartment she approaches with grace. A jet flying through the night sky. Her hair catches the moonlight and becomes an afterburner of silky veneer for an instant. When the moment ends, I get a similar feeling to what a soldier in a trench must have felt seeing a muzzle flash in the distance. Not much at all, just waiting for that bit of metal really.  
The girl plops down on the couch next to me with a heavy thud. Flopping back, dead. I inhale sharply when I see the blood stain on her face and clothing. In the greasy amber light of the living room they are black oil stains. The dead body jolts back to life with a slow, gentle breath. Her perky chest pushing out, glad to be free of the weight of the day, the weight of work. The black tie hanging like a noose. Mary takes another relieved breath and her eyes open to stare at the mindless show I was watching.
For an instant her eyes go through a kaleidoscope of feelings, confusion, distaste, amusement, and then endearment when they focus on me. But her face is still emotionless, while a rumbling storm brews behind her eyes. A potential of crazy destruction of rain and thunder that could come down, but for now is only a confusing, endless swirl. Leaving you always wondering if it's going to rain, a worry as old as man. 
The storm is fine as long as it's raining elsewhere but not here; however, the fear of lightning and thunder still makes your bones buzz with paranoia. It's always looming. Mary turns her attention away from me. I relax. She reaches for the glass of water sitting on the table. Starting to take a sip but then stopping when she feels how warm the water is. 
Images of her shattering the glass in her hand run through my mind, but thankfully she only brings a single pointer finger up and casts the tiniest eruption of a turquoise storm from the tip. A lightning bolt of magic chills the water to a frosty cool, ice crystals running up the side of the glass. Mary sets the glass back down on the table and sits back again. 
Mary drifts off into a shallow sleep. She always looks so much calmer when she's sleeping, or at least as calm as a hitman can be when they sleep. Her body is always poised to strike at something, always at the ready. I can't help but smile at how serene she looks. The tiniest fringes of a smile forming on the side of her lips, resembling the ice crystals that ran up the side of the glass. Clingy but temporary. 
My eyes slowly drift downwards. Her wirey, athletic frame is alluring like a grenade is. It's dangerous. On the knuckles of her hands are bruises. Tiny cuts from failed knife slashes run up a forearm. Bruises forming on the other arm. But her neck and collarbone are free of any damage, she's always had the prettiest collarbone as strange as that may sound. Gracefully drawn in a slender line, as svelte as a fox's movements. 
I notice an errant case of 9mm stuck between the skin of her neck and the collar of her shirt. My hand begins to move to brush it off as if it were just an errant hair, but I quickly stop myself. It'd be like spinning a grenade by the pin. All it takes is the wrong twitch or angling of her finger to make it explode. I look around the apartment gingerly, maybe procrastinating, maybe searching for a place to take cover?
My fingers start off with surgical precision but soon begin to shake with cantankerous clumsiness. Descending like a plane without wings. I focus harder as my fingers get closer to the brass sticking to her neck. Mary still sits sleeping soundly. Not noticing a thing at all. That's good. I take hold of the case, my eyes darting upwards to check for some reaction. Only her frosty smug smile that hasn't melted is my indicator that I haven't distrubed her. 
I pull with the most delicate of force, perhaps enough to shatter a snowflake. But shatter a snowflake I did, the sensation enough to melt Mary's cool sleep into a raging fury. Her eyes break open and suddenly the world becomes a blur.
The floor becomes the ceiling and the ceiling becomes the floor, and I'm stuck between both. Suspended in the air like a puppet, hanging from a choking height. I feel Mary's other hand crushing the wrist of the hand that was trying to brush off the casing. I kick uselessly. Realizing maybe this was a bad idea and this is the end a---
The lightning storm in Mary's eyes calms when she sees who she's choking. She gives a smug grin, holding me up for just a second more to relish in the novelty of the moment. I breathlessly gasp to signal I don't have more than a couple more to spare. I'm set back on my feet and fall forward. Mary catches me. Running her fingers through my hair as I fall. The way they graze my scalp makes me forget everything. When my face hits her shoulder all is lost and I'm in a different world.
She smells like gunpowder and of girls, it makes you swoon.
"Sorry, Anon."
I eek out a choked response, "it's okay."
Mary looks at the 9mm stuck to her neck like it's a stain on her shirt. Not exactly worth maybe killing me for… my windpipe was on the verge of cracking into a bloody pile of shattered bone.
"Were you trying to clean that off?"
"Yes."
I feel her hand pat my head gently, rubbing it as she angles her head with a smug smile.
"You could have just woke me up."
"You looked happy sleeping."
Mary sits on the couch and begins to undo her tie, letting it hang loose from her neck. 
"Fucking noose," she mutters. Her face looks up at me, almost happy," could you get the aid kid from my plate carrier?" I nod. "Good boy."
I rummage through the pockets absentmindedly. I jump back when I see the black mess on my hands. 
"You alright?" Mary is looking at me over the couch.
"Y-Y-Yeah…" I search for a place to wipe my hands, "just… looking… for… it." I stammer.
"It's in the front pocket."
        I slip the pristine white box out the blood soaked pouch. My fingerprints stain the aid kit red. When I hand it to Mary, her eyes look up at me amused. She pats the couch cushion next to her for me to sit down.
        She takes my messy hands and uses the clean white cloth of her shirt to wipe it clean. But to do so she has to lift the bottom part up. I can see her bottom two abs, I sneakily try to move my head to see the top ridge of those blocks on her toned midriff. Mary's hand clasps on my jaw moving back to look at her. The beginnings of a stormy, fed up anger brews in her eyes but then dissipate once again with a smug grin. 
        Out the box she pulls a tiny gauze strip and some hydrogen peroxide with a cotton ball. 
        "Okay, pull it off."
        I put my fingers around the case again, my instincts refusing to let me pull. Mary's eyes look at me, confused. Staring silently with a demand to get on with it. There's no reaction when I pull the casing with a sickening sticky sound of skin coming off with it. 
        I dab hydrogen peroxide on the bleeding patch and she only looks down ashamed. 
        "How was work?" I ask.
        "Do you really want to know?"
        The instant the gauze strip is on her skin she stands up.
        "How about we get something to eat?"
        "It's 11 at night."
        Mary stares down at me. 
        I stutter out a response. "O-Okay, we can go eat then." 
        Mary begins to fix her tie reflexively. My eyes look at the blood on her clothing.
        "Mary, shouldn't you change first?"
        "I'm really hungry, Anon. I don't think we should waste time with that."
        "Bu---"
        She moves in close to shush me with her enveloping presence. Looking down at me with a smug smile. "It'll be fine." I nod and look down at the blood stain on her shirt. She sighs. "Fine."
        Mary comes wearing track pants and zipping up the top of her tracksuit. 
        "Happy now?"
        The clothing hugs her body closely, like how I wish I could right now.
        "Yeah."
        I almost trip over her gear in the doorway. On the way Mary leans down to pull something from the side of her duffle bag. A huge envelope full of money. The bag is partially unzipped. Mary takes my hand and pulls me out the door, but as I close the door I see what's inside the bag. It's full of severed hands and AKs.
        When we get outside, the night air is delicious. I take a deep breath and stop to savor the way the other buildings stand like christmas trees around us. All lit up. But Mary pulls my hand impatiently, the grip tightening around my fingers. She gives one powerful tug to pull me spinning into her. She happily leans the side of her head against my ear. 
        "Work was that bad, huh?"
        "I didn't enjoy it, no." She responds. Nuzzling the crook of my neck. Mary is steaming warm while the night is biting cold. In another life, if I were alone, I would be wishing I brought a thicker jacket and feeling lonely in the daunting urban expanse of the city. But in this life it's an exciting adventure, Mary keeps me less than a foot away from her at all times. Refusing to let me any further away. 
        The near blinding lights rushing over her in an ocean of color. I can see why she'd make such a good hitman, she blends into any surrounding so well. Every so often I feel her tired eyes dart over to look at me, usually followed by her leaning her head on my shoulder. Our cloudy breathing mix into one big cloud that is highlighted by the headlights on passing cars.
        I make small talk. "There's a lot of people out tonight."
        "It's Friday."
        "Did you have to work tonight?"
        "It's Friday. Nightclubs."
        "Is tha---" I feel Mary's arm suddenly lock tight around mine. Daring me to continue. Her fingers taking hold of mine in a cold hand hold. "Never mind then."
        "Good boy."
        At the restaurant we sit quietly. The waitress takes our order and leaves. Mary leans on her elbows looking at me. I nervously look out the window next to us at the nightlife happening in the street below.
        "How about I buy you a drink, Anon?"
        "Are you trying to get me drunk?"
        "It depends," she gently kicks her foot against my shin. "What could I expect if I did get you drunk?"
        I sip my water quietly and look away.
        "Okay, fine. I'll drink with you."
        Mug after mug piles up on the table. I sleepily rest my head on my elbow and peek at Mary. She's downing yet another mug with two next to her, entirely unphased by the alcohol. I sigh and hold my head, trying to stay awake. 
        "Hey Mary." I say slurrily. "Why do you still have your tie on?"
        Her eyes widen and she looks down at it. Slowly loosening it before changing the subject.
        "How was your day, Anon? Fun?"
        "I didn't do much." I speak into the table.
        "Really, are you suuure?" Mary pushes her face down to my level.
        "Suuure." 
        "Because I think you went to the bakery today."
        "Bakery?"
        "I saw you spend money on the credit card, 24 dollars."
        I hold my head tighter and shrink inwards.
        "What did you buy?"
        I groan, "it was supposed to be a surprise."
        Mary smiles at me happily. 
        "What did you buy?"
        "A cake."
        "What kind of cake?" Mary continues to interrogate me like it's a business meeting and I'm reporting the quarterly earnings.
        "Boston cream pie."
        "Cream pie?" Mary repeats my words with morbid interest, teasing even.
        Mary brushes aside the mugs and softly taps her finger against my burning forehead. Cool on my skin. Ripples of pleasure running through my inebriated body. 
        "Is that what you wanted, a cream pie?" She asks. "To share one with me, perhaps?"
        "That was the plan."
        "You should have bought it with cash," Mary offhandedly murmurs.         "How about we go home to enjoy it?"
        She leads me out the restaurant in my drunken stupor. I wonder if this is all part of her plan. To get me drunk so I'm more pliable to her words. 
        Suddenly she pushes me into an alley and presses me against the wall, breathing slowly but surely to control her excitement. Mary looks down at me like a target. Plotting in her mind what to do with me. How to get what she wants out of me. The same look she must have given the dozens upon dozens of people she has "taken care of" in the past. 
In my weak drunkenness I can't do a thing. A sultry sigh of air is blown from her lips and into my face. Making me dizzy. Made worse when suddenly her emotionless face bursts out of the cloud. Less than an inch from my face. She quietly speaks to me as she runs her finger along the edge of my jaw. Tracing my cheek with her finger nail as if to slice it off, and she could with the slightest bit more pressure.
The cold air and the sound of the city is lost on me with the loud rush of hot blood in my ears. Mary hovers closer and closer as if to start a kiss but somehow finds another millimeter  between us to take her time crossing. She speaks quietly.
"So shy, even after all this time." Her head moves around to my ear, her arms pushing harder to keep me from escaping. "I'm not going to hurt you. After hours is saved just for you, no need to worry at all. No need to even fight." 
Mary begins to breath faster.
"And I highly recommend not to fight back, it makes it easier." Her head comes back to rest her nose against mine. In this moment she could kill me in many ways if she so desired. She could completely destroy me, but simply chooses not to. Full of power and intimidation but simply keeping it a looming threat over my head. A playful one, but only as playful as a falling meteor coming towards you can be. 
I feel her hands push against my chest, applying a pleasant amount of pressure that increases at an alarming rate. Causing me to gasp for air once again, the force of her hands against my chest builds and builds until I'm worried my ribs will crack. But Mary keeps me on the tantalizing razor blade between fear and pleasure as she pushes me off the ground to be more eye level, a smug, eager grin. 
Her eyes are a crazy storm that shiver in the darkness, pangs of lust lighting up their depths. A car drives by, its headlights throwing a long bar of yellow across her face. For an instant her eyes light up as if every cell were the facet of a finely cut diamond. Glittering with an alarming depth that makes you recoil, much like an abyss with a black bottom you can't help but be terrified looking over the edge but are filled with a morbid curiosity. 
"What's wrong, Anon?" Mary pushes my chest harder. "Cat got your tongue?"
I gasp and stammer silently, I can't breathe enough to speak. 
"Is that so," Mary teases. She lets one hand off my chest to gently pat my head. Her other hand pushes on my chest even harder to make up for the slack. The tips of my hair become electric when Mary brushes her fingers across it. "So delicate," she pushes me higher, "so fragile," I feel my ribs crack silently, "so controllable."
Mary punches the daylights out of me with her lips, her powerful lungs forcing my lungs to fill with her breath. Spreading my tongue to the side with her's and groaning quietly.
"Life can be sooo confusing, so chaotic." She whispers between kisses. "It's so nice to know you always have control over something."
I gasp for air and she silences my plea to be let down with a kiss.
"Shhh… shhh… that's a good boy" she says with a sadistic smile. "Good and quiet. Easy and willing."
Wheezing weakly is my only response.
"I don't think you're going to last much longer like that." Mary smugly whispers. "Do you want me to let you down?"
I nod quickly and she does so. I try to find my bearings but Mary begins to lead me back to the apartment. 
"I'll go up first, then you follow okay?"
"Why?"
"It's a surprise, just wait five minutes."
When I get inside the apartment is pitch black, I reach out in front of me searching for something to guide me.
Suddenly something attacks me from behind, my drunk nerves are slow to react but burn with a terrified reaction. A strong hand covering my mouth.
"Shhhh, shhh, Anon." I hear a kind voice say. "It's just me. Shhhh."
I feel Mary's hand reach down my pants.
"Hard already? A bit of a degenerate, aren't you?"
She undoes my belt and pulls them down. Gently running her silky hand up and down my shaft while she nibbles on my ear. I wirthe growing hotter and hotter. In response Mary pushes herself against me harder, pressing her cool body against me, felt even through her clothes. 
I start to get dizzy from the stimulation, I buck my hips trying to escape but Mary only tightens her grip around my mouth and increases her speed on my shaft. Spending the slightest more time massaging the head to coax groans into her hand. The sheer closeness of her is tantalizing. I want nothing more than to turn around and embrace her. 
In the darkness of the apartment it feels like this is the extent of the universe. Nothing but an existence of pleasure. My vision is absolutely useless and my brain devotes its time to handling the deluge of dopamine flooding in from my nerves. 
On the edge of climax, Mary bites my ear hard but then stops her handjob abruptly. I moan into her hand. Begging for release. I shake my hips trying to somehow solve the slowly becoming painful blue balls.
I feel Mary's chest beat against me as she laughs quietly. 
"Bedroom?"
I murmur a "yes" through her hand. 
She pulls me to the bedroom and pushes me onto the bed. She lies down next to me and hooks her legs around my waist, pressing her perky chest against my back. I feel the material shirt against the nape of my neck. Scratchy but smooth, like a soft grain kind of sandpaper. Running across your skin in little strips when the supple cloth bends to press against your skin. Pressured from behind by a chest with a slowly beating heart that's taking its time with things.
But I stir, desperate to climax and solve my mounting desire. I feel Mary pull her pants down behind me. Her hips wiggling as she slowly peels them down. I start to turn but she forces me to look forward. I feel the balled up track pants gather between my knees before she kicks them off. In a quick little rush of fabric she pulls off her panties and lays them over my shoulders in front of me.
Mary whispers softly, "and? What are you waiting for?"
I turn over and Mary immediately hugs me close, pushing my face into her chest. I can feel the silky tips of her hair around me and the smooth texture of her tie running down like a stream of water down my shoulder. I feel my cock enter her moist slit and she inhales slowly, pushing her hips into me. 
Mary wraps her hands around my back and falls onto her's. I buck my hips back and forth quickly but Mary kisses my cheek and whispers, "slow down, enjoy the moment." To defuse the tension. Breaking it into a soft, syrupy slurry instead. I slow myself and feel Mary begin to match my rhythm. 
Her shirt is partially unbuttoned and I can see the fringes of her bra beneath the white cloth. Mary's hair becoming messy against the pillow. She always seems so dignified and professional, I would have imagined she was "above" such savage, carnal acts. Her cheeks are a little flush as she keeps some semblance of her stalwart self when she cums. The sight sends me into a climax and I empty as much semen as possible inside of her. Desperate to make as many "little" Marys I can. I fall limp against her, happy and satisfied. 
"That all?" Mary asks, teasingly, "really?"
"I--"
Mary pushes me against the bed, straddling me. And enjoying the power she has over me as she slips my still overly sensitive cock into her, I exhale and feel her hand cover my mouth again.
"Shhh… save your breath."
She begins to ride me, grinding with such slow, perfect speed that with every heartbeat my vision flashes like I'm getting my picture taken. I can still make out Mary's crazy, hungry eyes in the darkness. She's clearly restraining herself but enjoying it regardless by how she tumbles into another climax. I feel a hand grip my hair and keep my head to the bed, not that I had enough energy to move it. Her folds squeeze and release to milk another orgasm out of me. 
The entire night Mary simply moves happily but slowly. Making sure to keep me on edge for as long as she can before it gets painful. Fucking with terrifying efficiency. Somehow pulling more and more cum from my balls into her womb, until eventually she takes pity on my exhausted self and lets me go, satisfied for the night. Giving gentle aftercare with her hand caressing my body as she kisses my head.






        European human trafficker vacation
        Huge mission impossible style ball
Wants quickies before and after to relieve stress and help aim