The Agnus Dei Gambit

I kissed along her smooth shoulder toward her deltoid and arms. I could hear her start to breath loudly. I nibbled down her upper arm to where her elbow joins and kissed her with an open mouth and a nibble there. She squirmed and hissed like a cat. I continued down her lower arm and across her hand to her fingers which I nibbled on gently. Her hips were making humping motions on the bed and she was gasping rhythmically, like she couldn't catch her breath.

I placed her hand back where I had found it next to her head and started to nibble and kiss down her shoulder blades and into the deep indentation of her back. Like most athletic women, Kelley's upper body looks slim and fragile in a sweater or blouse, if you ignore her giant tits of course.

But when you look at her with her clothes off her back carries as much muscle as her frame can efficiently hold. Hence, the length of her spine wasn't a knobby prominence. Instead it is in a depression between the smooth slabs of very feminine muscle.

Her back muscles would be ripped like a mans if it weren't for the fact that Kelley has the thin layer of subcutaneous fat that all women have. So, instead of ridges, her back is a perfectly smooth rounded plain riven in the middle by a deep canyon.

I placed my hand on her hips which were writhing as I kissed my way over to that canyon. I then worked my way slowly down her back moving back and forth from her spine to her ribs kissing and nibbling. I did this for several minutes until I made my way to the place where her hips and her back come together.

Kelley has the most wonderful apple shaped ass. The flexors and adductors that give her the deep hourglass shape are totally solid under their springy female skin and there are two deep dimples above her buns. But it is the buns themselves that are exceptional.

When they are lying on their stomach, most people's butts are either flat or some variation of chubby. Kelley's butt is two huge solid mounds, perfectly round and heavily muscled, with a very distinct space between where they attach to her hip structure.

However, even though her buns are huge they are also so perfectly developed that they do not extend her hips any wider than they would naturally be. They just jut there like two primal sources of power, located exactly where evolution says they should be.

The owner of those buns was using them to violently hump the bed at that point, meanwhile making loud "Uh-Uh-Uh-Uh" noises.

I kissed across the flat adductors above her ass and actually stuck my tongue in one of her dimples and swirled it around. That produced a loud cry. I then moved down to her frantically churning hips and started nipping on her butt cheek.

That produced an even louder cry. She had not been talking up to that point. But she started to tell me in very forceful and colorful language to fuck her. I ignored her because I had a full banquet to savor and I had only finished the first course.

I shifted on my knees so I could begin nipping and licking the backs of her thighs. The smell down there was overwhelming all of my senses with lust and I had an irresistible desire to mount her, but one should not get greedy in the middle of such a bountiful and delectable feast and so I continued my journey down those full and perfectly muscled thighs to the back of her knee.

She cried out loudly, arched herself into a bow with her butt high in the air and her knees and shoulders as the points of attachment to the bed while she shook in a wild orgasm. She also incidentally managed to kick me in the head with the back of her lower leg but that was not going to stop me.

As soon as she stopped arching her butt in the air and returned to just uncontrolled shaking, I moved on to her calf. Her calves make her legs so exceptional. They are highly developed muscles, almost like little cannon balls and they are responsible for her springy feline grace.

I kissed and nibbled on one of them, making sure I was holding it down with my full weight because she had now included thrashing along with kicking in her repertoire. Her Achilles tendon gave me a little trouble because she kicked back like a mule as I passed over it. But I persevered nonetheless to the top of her foot.

I bent her lower leg back against her thigh, which was something she was trying to do anyhow and kissed my way down the arch of her foot. She is an athletic woman, and that foot is not dainty. It is as muscular as the rest of her.

As I worked my way down her instep to her toe. She began telling me in no uncertain terms what a sadistic bastard I was. But she shut up the minute I sucked her toe and instead started off on the most violent orgasm I could remember.

I steadied my wife on the bed while she thrashed and bucked and writhed and groaned. She started full body shaking as I rolled her over on her back. Her eyes were wide open and completely rolled into her head, but she was conscious.

She was feebly beating on my shoulder. I had a feeling that the beating would have been a lot more robust if she had not just come like she had.

I started from her instep back up her leg, moving a little faster because I could tell Kelley was beginning to reach the end of her rope. I kissed up her shin and she began to come back to normal, her breasts heaving up and down like she had just run a three-minute mile.

When I got to her upper thighs she went back to moaning loudly. Then I plunged my tongue into her white hot and dripping slit, and she spasmed into a vertical position at the fulcrum of her hips, looking like a diver doing the reverse of a jackknife dive. She held that pose for an outrageously long period, huge stresses playing across her stomach and rib cage. Then she fell back with a thud.

She had clearly reached the end of her rope because the only things moving on her now were her heaving tits. They were my final destination, desert so to speak. She was just lying there sucking in air like she couldn't get enough to sustain her.

Kelley seemed dead to the world; her eyes were closed and everything else was limp. But I wanted to sample those huge, firm mounds before I had my own satisfaction. So, I kissed my way up the amazing swell of her left breast, which was jiggling slightly in ripples from the motion and moved to her nipple.

Rather than sucking on it I ran my tongue around the aureole. She began to moan weakly and her nipple got bright red and began to extend to an outrageous length. I sucked on it and she came back to full consciousness. She looked really angry. She said fiercely, "You had better fuck me now, or I'm filing the papers in the morning."

I'd finished feasting on her body. So, it was time to satisfy my soul. I climbed clumsily on top of her. She desperately grabbed me and inserted me into her sopping wet and boiling hot pussy. Given the stimulation I had been giving myself by exploring that perfect body it was amazing that I didn't come on the spot. However, as I pushed up into her, SHE came.

By my reckoning she had already come spectacularly three distinct times and nearly passed out as a result. But those first three were mild tremors compared to what happened next. We were just starting the motion of love. Her legs were on the bed knees slightly bent outward and her tits were squashed on my chest. I was lying on her with my full weight - fortunately!

She began high frequency vibrations all over her body. The effect was like a powerful machine had just started up. You could almost hear her hum. She was making no noise whatsoever because her jaw was clamped tightly shut and her eyes were rolled up in her head so far that I could only see the whites.

Then her arms, which were at her side and not restrained by me, began to flap without direction, powered by her violent shaking. She was striking me, the wall, anything within range of that aimless flailing. Then she began to writhe like a snake while making a continuous low throaty animal noise. It was profound sensation stripped of all emotion.

Her breathing was frantic. I was getting really concerned about how out of control she was when her eyes popped open and she looked at me serenely, like some sort of goddess giving me a blessing and then all light faded from her eyes, and she went out like a light. From long experience I knew that she would sleep until morning.

I could have finished. I was still inside her to the hilt and she was lightly contracting on me even though she was dead to the world for good. But I am not into necrophilia. So, I slowly withdrew down that still white-hot silky passage and popped out of her with a distinct sucking sound.

Kelley didn't move. She was in the middle of deep REM sleep. I closed her legs. I covered her and kissed her lightly in the lips. It was a kiss of true love. Before I fell asleep, I marveled at the woman who had consented to be my wife.

Females absolutely do not understand how men feel about highly sexual women, or they misinterpret it because of their own upbringing.

Humans need to mate for the species to survive. A woman as fearless and powerfully passionate as Kelley is highly desirable for that mating because she gives a man great pleasure during sex. On the other hand, a woman who is inhibited by her fears, or who has a nature that is less ardent, gives less pleasure to their partner and is therefore less attractive to mate with. That is simple biological reasoning.

Nevertheless, various social forces have combined over time to turn that equation around and convince women that inhibition is attractive, a sign of morality. While the kind of all-out, no prisoners fucking that a woman like Kelley will give a man is wanton and should be discouraged.

That reversal of logic might even make sense if the woman was indulging her sexual appetites with many men. But a fiercely loyal wife, who expends maximum sexual energy pleasing her husband, while pleasing herself, is indeed the partner that every man wants. And that was what I had with my superb Kelley.

*****

The next morning, we ate brunch at our bistro table on the little patio that looks out over the Lake. We can see as far south as Gary from the roof of our penthouse on the 42nd floor. We could afford that view because we made a lot of money in our last exploit.

It wasn't breakfast since we had lingered well into the morning. Kelley wanted to finish what we'd started the night before with a long slow session. She had the beginnings of a deep bruise around one of her gorgeous eyes. It looked like it was going to turn into a world-class shiner. Nobody had ever laid her out before and she was pissed.

She said, "I underestimated that guy. He was quicker than I thought. It isn't going to happen again."

I said, "So we're going after him?"

She gave me her predator stare and said, "Absolutely!!"

I said, "Let's look at what we know so far. First, this is some kind of spiritual motive."

Kelley nodded agreement.

I said, "I had an enlightening conversation with the dude the creepy guy killed. He said that they were part of some cult called the "Apostles," who live in "Melago." He said that's in the Alps. I also know that these guys are heavy-duty religious nuts."

Kelley said, "What about Isobel's boss? Shouldn't we do something about that first?"

I said, "Killing somebody with their own car is arcane stuff. Can you figure it out?"

Kelly shook her head and said, "I could probably do the analysis. But I don't have the equipment to gather the actual data."

The person who COULD do it popped in my head. I said, "How about Chelsea?"

The Guy Fawkes mask that Anonymous uses is the image that comes to mind when you think "hacker," not an exquisite little patrician beauty like Chelsea Hughes-Meissner. Nevertheless, Chelsea is one of the most dangerous creatures on this planet.

She is at the top of a select breed of super-hackers. She is also arguably one of the most beautiful women I've ever met. Of course, my Kelley is at the top of that list; an unmatched package of physical ability, beauty, and brains. Yet, Chelsea has her own exceptional qualities.

She's a gorgeous little china doll who lives on a nice un-extraditable island in the Windwards where she is wife to a guy who reminds me a lot of myself, because he's a solid sort of fellow and there's a lot of animal cunning in both of our souls. Chelsea is also mother to her own clone named Brooklyn.

Chelsea's scary because she is an apex predator in cyberspace. She owns the second largest botnet in the world, so she can crack anybody and do anything to them digitally. That makes her an ultimate power player in modern society.

Kelley and I had helped her older brother out of a tight spot eight years ago. And ever since then, she has treated us like a member of her own exceptional family.

Chelsea grew up being that family's society crown jewel. But a woman with her incredible, almost otherworldly, intelligence wasn't destined for a life involving white gloves and picket fences. So, she was the Red Dragon Revolution by night, the most feared hacker group in China. At least that's where everybody thought it was located.

Then, Tommy Meissner came along, and she fell in love. The details of that romance are another story. But needless to say, both live happily ever after on St Lucia and Chelsea only occasionally rolls out the Red Dragon.

The last time that happened an entire terror cell disappeared in a blast of hellfire. It was at our behest. So, it's hard to say who's in debt to whom in our little relationship. But Chelsea is always happy to help. And the neat part about it is that she never has to leave the confines of her palatial estate on St. Lucia.

Kelley placed the call. She's Irish. They're a fiery lot and she claims that she doesn't want her man talking to a woman as beautiful as Chelsea Hughes-Meissner. Plus, she speaks Chelsea's language -- nerd!

St. Lucia is two hours ahead of Chicago and it was the middle of a sunny afternoon there. Kelly got down to business after the usual polite chit-chat. She explained the situation and why we needed help.

Chelsea said, "The CAN bus logs a lot of ECU event data. You should be able to tell what happened from that. You access it through the same ports that mechanics use to diagnose your car."

She paused and said, "But I'd have to have physical access to that particular car to do the forensic analysis and regrettably I have to stay here in St Lucia until the hue and cry about the Target breach dies down." She sighed and added matter of fact, "They should have just given me the refund." Chilling...

Then she hesitated and said, "Of course Brooklyn is going to start at Cal Tech next fall. She's got the best kung-foo of any super-hacker under the age of twenty. Maybe she'd like to get real-world experience. I'll ask her."

That was the reason why Kelly and I were standing in the arrival area of terminal five at O'Hare. The person who walked out of customs wasn't the little girl I remembered. I hadn't seen Brookie since she was ten. She had morphed into a stunning woman.

Brooke, as she preferred to be called, was eighteen now. She had her mother's beautiful, elfin, features, with huge jade green eyes, like a cat's. They were a startling contrast to her alabaster skin and her black hair, which she wore in a no-nonsense bob.

It was also obvious that she had her mother's exquisite figure, on a pair of exceptionally long teenage legs. Those legs made her closer to five-five than her mother's five-two.

Brooke was a great beauty, much like her mother had been at that age. But Chelsea had raised Brooke differently. Brooke was making no attempt to disguise her wicked smart, streetwise attitude under the veneer of a proper young lady. In most teenagers that would come across as punk. With Brooke, it was an aura of mature wisdom, and extreme competence.

She smiled delightedly as she came through the exit door. Walked coolly over to us, extended her hand to me, and said graciously, "Uncle Joey, Aunt Kelley, I'm pleased to see you." Anybody who knows an eighteen-year-old girl would find that approach strange.

She added, "I'm here to help in any way I can. Mother told me that you needed to do a simple forensic analysis on a vehicle memory dump. I brought the technology."

I only understood half of what she'd just said. But it was clear that Brooke Hughes-Meissner was not your typical teen girl.

Kelley, who had spent her life being both gorgeous and smarter than everyone else in the room said kindly, "This is just the first of many times your special abilities will make a difference in people's lives. We need to find out what happened in the last moments of a crash that killed somebody."

Brooke looked down at her roller bag and added happily, "I love digital forensics." If she'd been homely with glasses and a pigtail that would have been a perfectly appropriate thing to say. Since she was perhaps the hottest looking teenage girl in the entire concourse it was one more proof that you can't tell a book by its cover.

*****

Our main obstacle was the Chicago cops. They'd decided on a cause of death and it would be a lot of hassle if it turned out to be anything but suicide. So, they'd dragged their feet until the family demanded a forensic examination of the vehicle's on-board data.

It took a court order to get it and that required a little time. In the meantime, Brooke settled into our spare bedroom. She was a very odd kid. I'm an old Army cop and a major league ass-kicker. I barely understand women, let alone teenage girls. In fact, I wouldn't understand anything if it weren't for Kelley.

My wife is the smart one. At least I have enough brains to recognize that. So, I let her manage our gorgeous little genius. Brooke would spend 24/7 on the internet if she had her way. Since, virtual reality is to her what REAL reality is to me. Kelley, who bridged the generation gap between me and our young guest, understood the dynamic.

Brooke's mother is perhaps the smartest person I've ever known. So, her daughter naturally gravitates to nerd things. Those things are not in the wheelhouse of Joe and Jane average.

Even more insulating, for Brooke, she had spent her entire life being homeschooled by tutors on St. Lucia, which might be as far from the cultural experience of the Windy City as her mom Chelsea was from the average housewife.

Consequently, Brooke had a very skewed understanding of what life in the real world was like. That would not be a problem if she weren't stunningly gorgeous.

Fortunately, her Aunt Kelley was equally beautiful, and Kelley had been fighting off male attention since she grew those big, magnificent tits. Kelley was also the toughest and most capable mentor a girl could ever ask for.

She knew what motivated girls her age. So, she spent a lot of time on the Miracle Mile and on Navy pier shopping with Brooke. My presence was not required or requested.

Still, although Brooke was a unique predator in cyberspace, she was fresh meat strolling the concourse at Navy Pier. Hence, she got a crash course in the perils of being a remarkable teenage girl in a tough city, all without having to endure the unfortunate advances, or fondling.

That was because Kelley had established a "hands-off" policy. Of course, Kelley had to threaten to break a few inquisitive fingers in order to enforce it. But you know the old saw about how omelets are made.

The court order for the CAN-bus data dump came through the following week. Kelley and I showed up at the Central Auto Pound on Wacker with Brooke in tow.

We were met by a couple of surly Chicago detectives and their own evidence tech. They were not happy about being there. But chain of custody had to be rock solid.