Sex Corps by Johnathan E. Ford
It was the best job in the world, but also the most dangerous. John Bancroft is a spy, but no ordinary secret agent. John works for Life Corps, known to insiders as Sex Corps, now one of the largest pharmaceutical companies.
The founder of the company, while researching a better medicine for male impotency, stumbled upon a drug that altered the genetic structure of semen. If a male were to have sex with a female, the biochemically changed semen could affect the female recipient psychologically. Obviously not a thing to be desired unless you are a spy sent to work for the secretive branch of Life Corps that, under the Governments watchful eye, now manufactured the drug for the sole purpose of espionage.
It was John’s dirty job to ‘turn’ the minds of the wives and female consorts of some of the most vicious bad guys on the planet. A job that he made all the more dirty with his insatiable thirst for female delights.
In Sex Corps, Bancroft’s first spy adventure, the agent is sent to an Afghanistan of the near future. A relatively peaceful place threatened now by a resurgent terrorist whose aim is to overthrow the democratically elected government. John’s mission is to ‘turn’ the terrorist’s equally extremist but beautiful wife by sexually inoculating her with pints of his genetically active sperm. A mission he is more than able and willing to perform. First, he must infiltrate the terrorist group and get close to the object of his desire.
On the way we are introduced to a bevy of fortunate girls that are entered and enjoyed in every possible way by Life Corps' most active and handsome field-agent, without the side-effects.
Bullets fly fast in this thrilling tale, but faster still are the bedroom capers, the lustful interludes, and the sexually impressive feats of the novels characters.
Includes: Multiple partners, oral & anal sex, and much more!
I reached under Mother to massage her clitoris. Mother is my ‘Handler’. I am John Bancroft, former Navy Seal, former Intelligence Officer, and now, at least in name, a real ‘mother’ fucker. Mother’s clitoris was famous among those who had been intimate with her, a select few, who could personally testify to the remarkable size of her chief sexual hot-button. I thought, not for the first time, that it was like a small erect penis, a rosy thick bud of flesh, generously imbued with nerve endings that with the slightest touch upon its swollen nub would transport Mother to paroxysms of fiery bliss. I enjoyed sending her into these little, almost climactic orgasms. I en-joyed rubbing the tight, super-sensitive stalk; each delicate caress of my fingertips eliciting an electric shudder. A shudder that made her peach of a bottom tremble under the palm of my other hand. That little female penis was also a delight to hold between my teeth as my tongue played up and down its length.
As far as I could tell Mother did not work-out. She never ‘hit’ the gym with the staff at Life-Corps, and there were no exercise machines in her spacious executive apartment, yet her body was always firm and supple, her breasts pert, her tummy tight and well defined. Her living quarters were attached to the Corporation campus, a campus that could boast most of the ameni-ties of a small town.
I had no idea how old Mother was also, Mother was a ‘ghost’, a non-person. Life-Corps had taken her off the social and traceable map. What, and who Mother was in her former life would never be known, except perhaps only to Jason Grainger, the founder and operational CEO of Life-Corps. I guessed that she was quite a bit older than my 35 years, maybe Mother was in her mid-forties, but there were no outward signs of age on which to hang that assumption. Her hair was shoulder length and raven black, with no hint of dye. Her skin was, if not flawless, still smooth with just the faintest suggestion of mature lines here and there, just enough to add attrac-tion rather than suggest too much aging.
“John dear, touch it on the tip again; pull the shaft out until the head of your lovely cock rests just inside of me and near to it.”
What Mother meant by ‘it’, was her above averagely proportioned clitoris. I am an attentive lover with Mother, for this sexual session is part of my de-briefing, a way of transferring biologi-cal data into her specially adapted womb. Mother has always been just ‘Mother’ to me, the beau-tiful woman I return to after a field operation, to download and deposit all of my recent emotion-al and erotic experiences. In a sense, she was more a mother to me than my unknown biological mother, a motherly figure at those times when I was wounded either physically or psychological-ly. She is primarily my sexual manager; a manager whose work is to drain me of every form of genetic information I had shared with my specific target. That ‘information’ was being gathered, scanned and processed even now through delicate sensors imbedded in the fabric of this, her main bedroom. It was being absorbed into her as my sexual juices mingled, her modified womb collating and passing that sexual material as a code that could be read by a main-frame computer, and decoded into hard intelligence.
I did her bidding, my finger moving gently in lazy circles around the tip of her pleasure bud, the head of my cock a few millimeters into the warm wet flesh of her pussy. The lips of that lovely flower fluttering like wings against the head of my swollen cock. My balls aching; tight and hard, wanting release, but I know I have to pace myself with Mother. She would not appre-ciate a quick down-load; always the consummate professional in her corporate duties
Mother demanded to be fucked just so. She had no taboos, and Mother had seemingly limit-less ways that she needed to be fucked. Her imagination was at least on par with my hyperactive libido, and just as creative in the way we performed these important sessions.
I eased my cock in and out of her sweetness, her labial lips folding and unfolding as my shaft parted them. I did not enter her far though; I knew Mother, like most women, gained the greatest intensity of pleasure from those areas nearest the clitoris. With one hand, I now held my shaft, and turned it in slow circles just inside of her, while my other hand played a romantic con-certo on her dancing clitoris. We both listened to the wet sucking sounds of our love-play. I gazed at her sweet cunt as it opened wide, as if begging me to ravish it. It was a pink bloom of flesh as pretty as any rose. I could smell our mingled sexual oils, the musk of our lust blending into an aromatic poem for the senses. I held her clitoris between two fingertips tugging in short up and down strokes, half expecting sperm to shoot onto my fingers. Mother groaned loudly, her bottom wriggling with sluttish passions. I knew what Mother needed, she wanted a slow internal and external masturbation, and she was in no hurry.