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Mission: Impossible Part 2 (m/f)
by A Fan

And so, the three soldiers rapidly and savagely fucked the elegant blonde
woman's face. The one guard pulled his erection in and out of her hair
while the other one kept sliding his cock along the front of her face.
Meanwhile, Roshov rhythmically fed his huge slab of tubular, vein streaked
meat in and out of her wet, hot mouth.

The guard who was fucking her face came first. He spurted several bullet
like bursts of whitish, sticky semen onto her cheek and as he kept fucking
her face he spurted drops of gooey jism all over the left side of her face.
The other guard shot his immense load into her golden blonde strands.

A few moments later, Captain Roshov blasted a glob of boiling scum against
the back of the woman's throat. He kept drawing his broad instrument in and
out of her mouth while he pumped drop after hot drop of viscous jism down
her gullet. As soon as Roshov pulled his penis out from Cinnamon's face the
two guards stepped back away from her.

"Stand up," Roshov ordered.

Slowly, Cinnamon climbed to her feet. As soon as she was standing, Roshov
grabbed the hem of her maroon skirt and pulled it up along her body until
all of her white panties were out in the open. Then he grabbed the cheeks
of her taut ass and squeezed the slightly loose skin through the thin
material of her panties. He inserted his right hand between her thighs and
rubbed his fingers up and down over her hairy vagina.

"Nice," Roshov complemented her. He pulled his hand away and let the skirt
fall back into place. "Quite nice, indeed. But I like to see what I'm
playing with. Strip!"

Roshov's tone offered no chance for opposition. Cinnamon unsnapped and
unzipped her skirt. She pushed the skirt down to her ankles and stepped out
of it. Then she pushed her panties and her gartered stockings down to her
ankles. The guards hungrily eyed her extensive, furry, blonde pubic bush
and her flat, shapely tummy. Long, blonde pubic strands hung down between
her thighs and her thick, squiggly cunt lips were sticking up into the air.
A sliver of pink membrane could be seen between her labia, within all those
blonde, pubic strands.

Roshov pushed his pants and his underpants down to his ankles. His
revitalized cock stood out straight and stiff from his lower belly and the
erect tool twitched all over.

He stepped up to Cinnamon and placed his left hand over her left breast. He
slipped his fingers beneath the cup of Cinnamon's bra and moved his hand
along her firm mound and then squeezed her prong like nipple between his
fingers. He pulled out his hand and moved it down along the front of her
smooth, lithe body. Then he brushed his hand over her blonde pubic bush.

"Get down on your hands and your knees," he ordered the blonde beauty, "with
your ass to me, sticking way up into the air."

Cinnamon got down on her hands and knees with her provocative, tight ass
pointing towards Roshov. He could see her delicate face with its dark,
brown, somewhat thick eyebrows and her soft, blue eyes.

Roshov went down on his knees behind Cinnamon and placed his hands over her
tits. He scraped the tip of his engorged member along her cunt slit and he
could feel her pubic strands scrape along the hardened flesh of his cock
head. He pressed the tip of his organ into the bottom of the crack of
Cinnamon's ass, which was stuffed with long strands of blonde hair. As he
slid his cock head upwards through the crack of her ass he worked the head
of his enormous erection into the crack.

And then the State Secret Police officer gritted his teeth and lunged his
lengthy tube of vein streaked meat all the way up into the young woman's
tight, tight asshole until his penis vanished into her slender, sexy body.
Cinnamon let out a piercing shriek Roshov just laughed in response and began
to frantically hump the girl's asshole like an animal. His huge body loomed
over her small, but highly sensual body.

Roshov moaned and groaned softly as he kept on driving his long, thick pole
in and out of Cinnamon's asshole. He placed his hands over the taut cheeks
of her ass and his balls slammed into her cunt lips while he kept on
brutally sodomizing her. As he fucked her asshole with more and more fury
his moaning and groaning grew louder and louder until at last he was
growling from his guts just like the sort of animal which he presently
resembled.

Cinnamon let out a little groan, which Roshov mistook for a sign of pain.
In fact Cinnamon felt no pain. She felt only bliss, the fire, the friction
of a dick stoking her furnace. Cinnamon enjoyed being buttfucked and her
ass had been used by many men, many times before. It had only been Roshov's
unexpected and violent entry that had caused her to cry out. Now, as the
Captain, cruelly raped her ass, Cinnamon Carter could only struggle to hide
the erotic shivers flashing through her body.

"You guard," Roshov grunted, to the one guard who had not yet been allowed
to use Cinnamon. "Take her mouth!"

Immediately the guard had his pants down and pressed his cock bead between
Cinnamon's lips until the tip of his pulsating member knocked against her
teeth. As he maneuvered his instrument into her mouth she parted her lips
and he stuffed his meaty organ into her mouth and immediately began humping
her face, sliding his cock back and forth along her tongue and ramming the
tip of his erect penis against her upper palate.

Roshov opened his mouth and let out a loud piercing whining sound. His face
turned beet red as he squirted slithers of steamy jism into Cinnamon's
constricted anus. He leapt drawing his erection in and out of her asshole
and pounding his hairy loins against her taut buttocks while he spurted the
remaining droplets of his awesome load into her slim, small body. The
muscles within his groin clenched tighter and tighter together until the
last traces of his come were wrung from out of his scum storage sacks.

The guard gave a final, strenuous thrust with his hips and he smashed his
immense slab of tubular meat right down into Cinnamon's throat. He grunted
over and over and then he suddenly extracted his erection from her face.
He ejected a long, whiplike bolt of smelly semen onto her tongue just before
he pulled his cock head out from between her sensual lips. Then he pressed
his piss slit against the front of her face and shot drops of semen all over
her soft, smooth, baby like skin. He inserted his convulsing organ into her
blonde hair and covered his penis with her silky, lustrous strands while he
dribbled the final bits of his orgasmic goo into her hair.

Both Roshov and the guard heaved out long sighs of relief and then they
looked at each other. Their grins reflected the utter satiation which they
had just each experienced.

"That was good," Roshov stated. "But we are not finished with you yet."
The consummate professional, Cinnamon's eyes went wide with mock fear, but
her body almost betrayed her with a shiver of excitement at the thought.

*I* *M* *F*

Inch by inch, Barney Collier moved through the tight maze of ventilation
shafts. Before he reached his destination, he could already hear Major
Krarn's voice, or rather Rollin's voice, faintly ahead.

"This is the man you came for," Barney heard Rollin say. "Robert Mitchell,
American spy. The man who has the decryption cipher key code to break
Conundrum."

"But the question is, Major," replied Colonel Pavoric, "have you broken him
yet?"

Rollin hesitated a moment before answering. "Not yet, Major. We have
tried, of course, but he is strong willed. He refuses to talk."

Barney pulled himself into position so that he could see what was happening
in the office below through the grill of the air vent.

Rollin was standing, moving around the room. Pavoric was sitting at the
desk with his back toward Barney. Slouching in a chair in the corner of
the room, was Mitchell, obviously the worse for wear after the real Major
Krarn's attempts to beat the Conundrum code out of him. Barney grinned
with satisfaction as he saw Pavoric take a sip from a cup of coffee before
speaking.

"Tried is not good enough, Major," snapped Pavoric. He took another sip of
coffee. "I have come a long way for what this man has to offer. I do not
intend to go home with out the key to this..." He reached into his coat
pocket and pulled out an envelope which he slapped down on the table.

"Is that the list?" checked Rollin.

"Yes," responded Pavoric. "The only copy. I keep it with me at all times
for security reasons. It is of immeasurable value and the West would do
anything to get it back."

"Yes," agreed Rollin. "Anything."

"We will break this man! I must have the cipher key!" Pavoric tried to
stand up and, finding that his legs would not support him, dropped back
down heavily into his chair.

"Is something wrong, Colonel?" inquired Rollin, carefully observing
Pavoric's condition.

"I don't know," answered the Colonel, his speech becoming slurred. "I feel
My head... I," Pavoric put his hands out trying to hold onto the desk,
trying to steady himself from the room that was spinning wildly around him.
His hands slipped forward and he fell face first onto the desk, completely
unconscious.

Mitchell watched curiously as Rollin checked out Pavoric, assuring himself
that he would be out for some time, then hurried over and began unfastening
the air vent cover.

Head first, Barney crawled out of the vent and into the office. He went
over to Mitchell.

"Look," he said, "we don't have a lot of time. This man here is not Major
Krarn. He's an American agent. So am I. We're here to get you out.

Unfortunately the only way is through that air vent and then through the
ventilation system. Can you make it?"

Immediately Mitchell was on his feet. "To get out of this hellhole?" he
said. "I can make it."

Barney smiled and clapped Mitchell on the shoulder. "All right then,
let's go."

*I* *M* *F*

Jim Phelps parked his car on a quiet side street six blocks from his
destination. He glanced at his watch, then got out of the car and went
into the restaurant across the street to wait.

Inside the trunk of the car, Gregorish Krarn slept peacefully in his
drugged slumber.

*I* *M* *F*

The coded list carefully secured in his pocket, Rollin, left the unconscious
Colonel Pavoric in Krarn's office and walked calmly through the halls filled
with soldiers down to the prison section of the building. As he approached
the door to Roshov's office, he could hear moaning through the door.

Pushing open the heavy door, he was greeted with a sight that immediately
made him go hard in his pants.

There naked on the floor was the beautiful Cinnamon Carter, with one guard's
cock in her cunt, another fucking her ass and the third guard's organ jammed
down her throat.

"Ah, Major," greeted Roshov cheerfully, momentarily turning his attention
away from the spectacle in front of him, "as you can see, sir, we are
working on this American whore as you instructed."

"Yes," replied Rollin, as the guard fucking Cinnamon's mouth came,
splattering his load all over her face. "So I see."

Cinnamon let out a moan and started to shiver as first the guard fucking her
ass, then the one in her cunt came within seconds of each other. Both
guards pulled out, fully spent, leaving a scummy mess between the blonde's
legs.

Rollin walked over and looked down at Cinnamon, smiled whorishly up at him
and gave him a secret wink.

"Do you wish to try her out now, Major?" inquired Roshov. "She really is
quite an exceptional little slut."

"Yes," replied Rollin, making Cinnamon's eyes go wide. "I believe I will."

Rollin knelt down quickly and grabbed Cinnamon roughly, flipping her over
onto her hands and knees. Swiftly he pulled free his cock and rammed it
fully into Cinnamon's well used cunt. The blonde let out a deep moan,
letting her head fall forward as Rollin's giant meat filled her.

"Captain, come here!" ordered Rollin.

Roshov quickly obeyed, positioning himself in front Cinnamon. Rollin
grabbed a handful of the woman's blonde hair and pulled her head up so
that Roshov's hardening prick was pointed at her face.

"Whore," Rollin said, "while I am fucking you, you shall keep your head
raised and suck on the captain's cock. When you detect that he is ready to
come, you are to open your mouth so that I can watch his semen spurt into
your beautiful face. Is that quite comprehensible, whore?"

"Yes, Major," Cinnamon replied, trying to conceal her excitement. She knew
it was Rollin that was actually going to fuck her, not Major Krarn, and the
thought of her own teammate using her in such a way made the whole business
seem doubly perverse and doubly exciting.

"Good," snapped the man with Major Krarn's face.

Roshov stood next to Cinnamon's head and grabbed her blonde hair. He
proffered his fully erect organ to her and she turned her head and looked up
at his face with her exquisite green blue eyes. Roshov pressed the tip of
his penis between Cinnamon's extremely erotic lips and she opened her mouth
wide. He stuffed his tubular slab into her mouth until her gums pressed
upon the stretched skin of his staff and then he kept forcing his penis
further and further into her face until his cock head was completely
inserted within her throat. Then he placed his other hand against
Cinnamon's forehead and began to energetically fuck her face.

Cinnamon closed her lips and cupped her left hand around Roshov's huge
testicles. She placed her other hand over his pubic bush with her thumb
pressing up against the base of his meaty instrument and she sucked eagerly
and expertly upon his mammoth tool, drawing in her cheeks and extending her
lips so that his prick was thoroughly sealed within her face.

Rollin watched this procedure and then he slowly extracted his long, long,
broad tube of hardened flesh from Cinnamon's gripping dripping vagina until
only about half of his cock head remained within her membranous cavity. He
brushed his hand over the outer lips of her cunt and her long, curving,
blonde pubic hairs scraped along the skin of his palm.

Then he rammed his flesh spear all the way into the beautiful woman again
and began to hump her furry cunt with more savage energy than before. Every
time he drove his vein streaked pole into her, his pubic bush ground into
the tight, jutting cheeks of her ass and her trim, gorgeous body shook all
over.

Rollin placed his hands on her smooth shoulders and gripped her soft skin
tightly. He just kept humping Cinnamon's snatch with his monstrous tool
until he felt his come gathering beneath his balls. He grabbed onto
Cinnamon's hanging left tit with his left hand and he placed his other hand
against her right buttock. As the muscles within his groin clenched
together he let out a long, whining sound and he gritted his teeth together.

At the same time Cinnamon felt Rollin shoot his wad of boiling jism into her
enveloping, undulating womb, she felt Roshov's penis twitch wildly within
her mouth and she felt his come course hotly through his tool. She opened
her mouth and pulled her face back until her gaping mouth was positioned
just in front of Roshov's flaring piss slit. She wrapped her long, sensual
fingers around the base of his cock and kept his piss slit directed towards
her mouth.

Roshov groaned as if he was in pain and he shot out a slug of semen which
traveled through the air, passed into Cinnamon's gaping mouth, and
splattered all over her tongue. He squirted several more drops of steaming
scum into her face and then the rest of his load dribbled out from his piss
slit and drained onto Cinnamon's lower lips.

Rollin watched all of this as he emptied the last traces of his own load
into Cinnamon's womb. When he was done he lay his head upon her smooth
skinned back and murmured with contentment and tried to catch his breath
for more than a minute.

Roshov pulled his slime coated penis out from Cinnamon's face and
immediately collapsed onto his ass and leaned back against the wall. He
had achieved orgasm so many times this day that he was now utterly spent
and exhausted. He didn't have a single drop of scum or energy remaining.

A little unsteadily, Rollin got to his feet and zipped himself back up.

"Now, whore," he spat, "Colonel Pavoric wishes to question you, himself.
You will get dressed and come with me, immediately."

Crawling on her hands and knees, Cinnamon collected her skirt and torn
blouse and, as the spent Roshov and his equally exhausted guards watched,
began to dress.

*I* *M* *F*

Rollin escorted his prisoner outside to the parking lot where Willie was
just finishing repairs to the engine he had disabled.

"Soldier!" snapped Rollin. "Is this truck ready to go?"

"Yes, sir," replied Willie, snapping to attention.

"Good, put this prisoner in the back."

Willie took hold of Cinnamon and put her into the back of the truck, where
Barney was refastening the cover on the vent. Mitchell was laying on the
floor.

"He passed out right after we got here," Barney said in answer to Cinnamon's
unspoken question. "They beat him up pretty bad. It must have been hell
for him dragging himself through those vent shafts. I gave him a shot to
help keep him out. Best thing until we can get him to a doctor."

Cinnamon nodded. Barney finished reattaching the cover and moved Mitchell
into the secret compartment in the floor of the truck before he and Cinnamon
climbed in as well.

As Barney pulled closed the cover to the compartment, Willie started up the
vehicle and they were off.

*I* *M* *F*

The sound of approaching sirens brought Krarn back to consciousness. He
shook his head, trying to clear away the cobwebs, slowly taking in his
surroundings. He was sitting in the driver's seat of a car he did not
recognize, on a street that looked vaguely familiar.

The sirens, which had seemed very close, had stopped now and someone was
pounding on the car window.

"Get out!" ordered a soldier, waving a machine gun at the car.

Krarn bristled. How dare he, he thought. He pushed open the car door and
stumbled out, his feet still a little unsteady. The soldier grabbed him
and slammed him back against the car.

"Do you know who I am?," raged Krarn at this rough treatment.

"We know who you are, Major," retorted a familiar voice.

Krarn looked around. His wits slowly coming back to him, he realized that
he was surrounded by many soldiers, all of them with guns pointed toward
him.

Colonel Pavoric pushed his way through the wall of menacing soldiers. "We
know who you are and what you are." He walked up until he was standing a
foot away from Krarn. "You traitor!" he spat.

"Traitor?" gasped a shocked Krarn. "No, Colonel -- I am no traitor --"
Pavoric gestured and one of the soldiers began to roughly search Krarn.
The soldier pulled a thick envelope out from the Major's coat and handed
it to Pavoric. The Colonel looked inside the envelope and then pulled
out a thick wad of American greenbacks.

"Then what are you doing here," accused Pavoric, pointing at the United
States Embassy across the street, "with these?" He waved the money
contemptuously under Krarn's nose. "And where is list of Western agents
you took from me? And where is Mitchell?"

"I -- I -- do not -- know --" stammered Krarn.

"Then maybe we will take you back to headquarters and find out, eh?" He
gestured to two of the soldiers. "Bring him!"

Just down the street, Jim Phelps stood beside a dark colored car, watching
as Pavoric spun around and marched off, two soldiers dragging Krarn along
behind him.

"Krarn will never explain his way out of that," commented Barney from
inside the back of the car.

"Wasn't that the plan?" checked Cinnamon.

Rollin nodded his head in agreement.

Phelps glanced at his watch. "Let's go, Willie," he said, climbing into
the car.

A moment later the dark car sped away down the street.

FINI

    

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