chem Meth Lab Fuck Down

[Hotcumrod]

Oh, wow that was a hot twist.

[whthole4u]

Part 5: Hawk gave a wild sweep of his arm, “GET THEM ALL IN HERE. EVERY FUCKING ONE. I DON’T CARE IF THEY SWING THAT WAY OR NOT. I EXPECT EVERY GOD DAMN DICK WITHIN A MILE OF THIS PLACE TO FUCK MR. DEA AGENT HERE. DRUG HIM UP AS MUCH AS YOU WANT. DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT. SOMEONE NEEDS TO PAY FOR THIS FUCK UP SO UNLESS ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO STEP FORWARD, THEN IT’S HIM.” My punishment was fast, swift, painful, and complete as one after another of Hawk’s drug crew were escorted into the small room and ordered to mount and breed me. A couple of them did stuff my ass with big meth shards, but not for my enjoyment, it was because they knew the shards would cut and scrape and strip away my gut lining as they were pushed around in my hole by all the dick. The high helped - a little - but what helped more was knowing I had hurt Hawk. He was the biggest meth cooker and dealer in the region and because of his Aryan DNA believed himself to be superior to everyone else. Well that, his huge dick, and his armed men. He suspected, but could not prove, that I had something to do with Chris being picked up. I did.

 

A few years back a buddy of mine who works for another government agency, one far more secretive and into far more shit than the DEA, installed a software program on my phone. While the program appeared to the casual observer to be one of those popular games everyone played, there was a secret level to it that once opened, allowed me to track Chris and whatever phone he was using based on his number. Chris had a long history of drugging out and falling off the deep end and I had to find some way of tracking him down. This program had lots of additional bells and whistles - his phone could be turned on remotely, turned into a recording device of conversations or even other phones around it by creating a small hot-spot. So, between Chris’s phone, and those he was around, I was able to quickly find him, or at least those he had been with recently. The info was uploaded into a secret email account in the cloud as sort of a buffer. It was never real time, but close enough. Hawk and his men would find nothing on my phone. The Assistant D.A. McLeod on the other hand I suspected would have found a great deal that was of interest.

 

Some time later as I laid on the floor covered in the filth of multiple men, shivering from the meth and the shock of abuse to my body, Hawk stomped back in. “Well agent,” he said, far more calmly than he was, “Your phone showed me nothing, although I must admit I was surprised in your taste of music - and porn. Your little friend has now become a risk to me, to this operation, to those I work for. Come with me. We’re shifting operations to a new facility he is not aware of.” I was shoved into the back of an unmarked van still naked except for the tattered remnants of my DEA windbreaker. Hawk slammed me down onto the uneven floor, slid his dick inside my cum filled ass and began pumping me as the van rocked side to side as we turned and drove away. “Head south first,” Hawk instructed one of the armed men sitting against the van wall, “I want Mr. DEA Agent here to know what a true AIDs dump he is when I fill him with another load while we are parked in front of his office building.” Hawk dismissed any feedback about that being unwise and proceeded to fuck me harder, to try to punish me for what he still believed I did. “Since we’re going to be in the neighborhood, why don’t you let me out so I can get back to work? I thought the whole idea was for me to be an asset in the office - not just some fuck toy.” That got me a hard knock to the mouth, a renewed taste of iron as my cut lip opened again, “YOU WILL DO WHAT I SAY, WHEN I SAY. RIGHT NOW - YOU ARE GOING TO MILK A FEW LOADS OUT OF ME. I KNOW EVERY THRUST OF MY SUPERIOR DICK PAINS YOU. I CAN FEEL YOUR BODY TENSE, YOUR MUSCLES QUIVER. YOU CAN FIGHT IT AGENT, BUT IN THE END, I WILL BREAK YOU AND TURN YOU INTO JUST A DEFLATED AIDS BAG. AND OH YES, WHEN WE HAD YOUR PHONE WE USED IT TO CALL YOUR OFFICE AND MY MAN ON THE INSIDE CONFIRMED THE CALL. FAMILY EMERGENCY AND ALL THAT, SO YOU WON’T BE IN TODAY. WE’RE THERE? GOOD. I’M READY TO INFECT YOUR ASS AGAIN AGENT!”

 

Hawk rolled off me, the van pulled away, and I inched closer to the far wall. The two masked guards opposite me were two of the ones who had tortured me earlier. I could see their eyes and I knew somewhere deep down they realized they were marked. Voices rose from the front, the men shifted nervously, Hawk crab walked up to the front seats and shook his head vigorously back and forth and hit the back of the seat with his fist. He turned and glared at me. I wanted to smile, but remained expressionless. The van pulled to the side. Hawk came back, stood over me, raised his fist back and trembled in rage. I stayed still. He then exhaled, lowered his fist, and said, “It appears that my backup lab was just raided by a multi-agency team and a number of my men arrested.” I piled on, “Wouldn’t that be the sort of thing that you would think your ‘people’ inside the DEA, local police, and others would have given you a heads up on?” Hawk growled. I continued, “I could have warned you if I had been at work like I was supposed to be and not here being some fucking chew toy for your pack of dogs. Clearly this is bigger than Chris - or me. I have never been to this other place right? You said Chris had not either so that means you must have a mole. Someone who has been on your team for a while has sold you out.” I looked to the masked men on the other side of the van with a clear, questioning look, then to the two men up front and stated again to Hawk, “Someone sold you out.” Hawk’s head whipped to the side, the front, and back. His eyes narrowed. He calculated loss, risk, safety, and the many forks in the road before him all within seconds. Hawk edged over between the two masked men, placed his left hand on the shoulder of one, his right on the shoulder of the other, leaned in and spoke in a low voice.

 

The two masked guards moved with practiced stealth and grace in a dance of death. Before they could react, the two members of Hawk’s drug gang that had been sitting in the front seats were pulled into the back and any threat they may have posed removed. One of the masked men eased into the driver’s seat, rolled his mask up onto his forehead, and put the van into drive. Hawk looked at his former colleagues, “All threats must be eliminated until I get this under control.” The van rolled over a familiar bump; I was hustled out the side door, up the steps, and into my kitchen. Hawk strolled in and looked around, “For now, we will stay here. What better place to hold out until things settle than a DEA agent’s house, right?” The masked guards did a quick check of the place, confirmed no one else was there, and emptied the chamber of a back up revolver they found in my dresser. Hawk sat at my table like he was king shit. He dumped out two bags of his meth - the Aryan Eagle black and menacing - then proceeded to chop it up. “Come agent. Let’s enjoy ourselves shall we. You and I do not need to be enemies. Frankly I see us as friends who are just - shall we say - getting to know each other. I know you Agent - I know your ass - I know you claim to be a top but when I am inside you and getting ready to spill my toxic seed your hole clenches tight, milking me like a Bavarian maid.” The hours passed. The guards were on high alert, Hawk was on the phone making call after call, trying to get control of a situation that clearly was spinning wild. One of the guards had left to get rid of the van – and the bodies - and when he returned, he had brought with him a large duffle bag that contained a number of bug-out supplies including an entire box of dozens of SIM cards. After every call Hawk switched out the cards and one of the guards would destroy the one just used. Clearly no one was going to track him that way. “Mind if I make some iced tea?” I asked. Hawk shrugged, one of the guards checked the cupboard then nodded. I turned on the faucet and reached over and twisted the little wand on the mini-blinds over the sink. The blinds did not open all the way, but they were open enough - I hoped it was enough.

 

Hawk was calmer and high and still had a trace of meth around his right nostril. He took his shirt off, rubbed his hands over his chest and torso, outlining his tattoos, and admiring his muscled Aryan physique. The guards continued their rounds as Hawk stripped, his massive uncut dick demanding attention being one of those freaks of nature that meth did not make go limp. “Let me just have a little more tea,” I told Hawk as he tried to push me to my knees to suck him. He grunted and stroked his dick awaiting my return. I refilled the glasses of the guards and handed it to them, then returned to the kitchen, knelt on my floor, and let Hawk pummel my throat like I knew he planned to pummel my ass. Had it been enough? Hawk ordered me to bend over the table so he could spit fuck my ass. I handed him a glass of iced tea, “Here. If you’re going to fill my ass with more cum you need to keep hydrated.” Hawk smiled, took the glass, downed about a quarter of it then as he tried aiming his dick into my hole with his other hand the glass slipped, shattered, ice tea spreading across the floor. Was it enough? The grunts and fullness of his dick inside my ass dulled the world around me. Or maybe that was the meth. I barely registered when I heard the first THUD. Hawk paused and asked, “What was that?” He was looking to the front of the house. I slid off his dick, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him down with me to the floor as I begged, “FUCK ME ON MY BACK. YOU’RE RIGHT. I NEED TO SUBMIT AND THIS WAY I CAN FEEL YOU FILL ME DEEP WITH YOUR AIDS CUM. YOU’RE MY SUPERIOR MASTER. I WANT TO SERVE YOU - CAN YOU SHOW ME HOW TO SERVE YOU? PLEASE YOU? OH BREED ME!” Any thought Hawk might have had in his head went WHOOSH and vanished. All he saw was victory. All he felt was my hands clasping at his hips to pull his raw Aryan dick deeper. All he understood was that I was his. Fucking dumb animal!

 

Hawk’s body slumped forward, his weight pinning me to the floor, my arm unable to avoid the splinters of glass that now pierced it. A familiar voice laughed, “Well, well, well, Agent. I must say I didn’t recognize you. Usually I’m the one on my back looking up.” I exhaled then had to laugh as a muscled arm reached down and helped me sit up. Jayce. While Chris and I were best friends growing up, Jayce and I were more like best enemies. We were total opposites in everything from our build to our families. Mine was law abiding, his was the biggest street gang in the city. Yet, Jayce and I alone, together, in bed, was always a good thing and I had dumped plenty of my loads up his sweet black ass. Between my job, and his gang, we of course kept our escapades secret, but on occasion, I was able to help him and let him know when the DEA was closing in on his family’s business and now he was able to pay that all back. We had worked out a secret signal long ago - my kitchen blinds. If they were closed, I had family around or for whatever reason could not see him. If they were totally open, the coast was clear. If they were only partially open, tilted up, then there was danger. I had relied on Jayce’s street skills to figure out the rest and lucky for me - and unlucky for Hawk and his men - he did. OK, well the Rohypnol I might have spiked the iced tea with helped too. I know, I know, who keeps crushed date rape drugs in their kitchen cabinet in a sugar bowl? I was a Boy Scout and I’m a DEA agent and I was prepared.

 

I rubbed my face. Jayce handed me a glass of water. I gulped it down, shook my head, “Thanks,” I said. Suddenly a piercing scream exploded from the next room. Jayce helped me stand, we walked in, and one of Jayce’s guys shrugged and said, “Smurfette just bit off most of his left ear.” Jayce laughed, lit a joint, nodded to the large, black/blue Pit Bull name Smurfette that was knotting Hawk’s ass as he asked, “I don’t think you need both ears to be a bitch do you?” I could only laugh. I never knew what happened to the armed guards Hawk had - the ones I vowed to take out. When I asked Jayce he just shrugged and said, “You see them assholes around anyplace? Ain’t nothing to see man. Nothing to see.” Before Jayce left, and as I watched some of the guys from his family’s gang drag Hawk’s bloodied – but still alive - body out of my house, I went over to the shreds of my DEA windbreaker and pulled out a couple packets of meth with the Aryan eagle mark and a blue shipping receipt. “Here,” I said as I handed him the meth. “When they were preparing to move I was able to figure out why his meth is so damn good. Here are some samples of his latest cook and trust me - that shit is fucking awesome! But more importantly is this. This manifest shows you the extra ingredient he used to make the shit so pure, so kick ass. It’s yours now. Someone needs to step in and become the new, biggest cook and seller in the region.” Jayce smiled, reached down and stroked my dick, then whispered, “So, when do I get to lay on my back again for you Agent?”

 

The next week at the office was fucking crazy. Reports of gang wars, multi-agency task force take downs of the biggest meth cook in the region, connections to Colombian cartels, or maybe the Russians, every day brought some new ripple in the pond created by the small stones I had cast. I was at my desk when there was a large commotion; a TACT Team goose-stepped into the situation room surrounding my cube. The DIC (DEA Agent in Charge) walked through the melee and set a stained, cardboard box on my desk. “This was just delivered for you,” he said while shaking his head. I looked at him, then the box, lifted one flap, then the next, and next, and pulled out a typed note that was resting near the top. The note said, “I DON’T THINK YOU NEED HANDS TO BE A BITCH EITHER.” My eyes wide, I pushed my chair back, stood up, and peered down into the box. My ‘gift’ was wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. I took a pen and eased back the ridges of paper and my breath caught - there in the box was a set of hands clasped together as if in prayer. Within the hour the lab techs would confirm what I already knew - those hands belonged to Hawk.

CASE CLOSED.

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

 

 

[Fillitup57]

GREAT story-  enjoyed it a lot-  and left some many questions unanswered-  Again can not tell you how much I enjoyed it.   Thanks- 

[Corkbb4poz]

Great Story.  Really enjoyed it.  

[TTFN]

Another great story.

 Thought the box was going to contain Hawks dick, he won't need that to be a bitch either.

[lostsheol]

Great story. So different from the rest. It was suspenseful and erotica. Loved the Aryan theme with AIDS cum. Woof. 

[PoliceManuel]

On 7.7.2017 at 8:05 PM, whthole4u said:

Part 5: Hawk gave a wild sweep of his arm, “GET THEM ALL IN HERE. EVERY FUCKING ONE. I DON’T CARE IF THEY SWING THAT WAY OR NOT. I EXPECT EVERY GOD DAMN DICK WITHIN A MILE OF THIS PLACE TO FUCK MR. DEA AGENT HERE. DRUG HIM UP AS MUCH AS YOU WANT. DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT. SOMEONE NEEDS TO PAY FOR THIS FUCK UP SO UNLESS ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO STEP FORWARD, THEN IT’S HIM.” My punishment was fast, swift, painful, and complete as one after another of Hawk’s drug crew were escorted into the small room and ordered to mount and breed me. A couple of them did stuff my ass with big meth shards, but not for my enjoyment, it was because they knew the shards would cut and scrape and strip away my gut lining as they were pushed around in my hole by all the dick. The high helped - a little - but what helped more was knowing I had hurt Hawk. He was the biggest meth cooker and dealer in the region and because of his Aryan DNA believed himself to be superior to everyone else. Well that, his huge dick, and his armed men. He suspected, but could not prove, that I had something to do with Chris being picked up. I did.

 

A few years back a buddy of mine who works for another government agency, one far more secretive and into far more shit than the DEA, installed a software program on my phone. While the program appeared to the casual observer to be one of those popular games everyone played, there was a secret level to it that once opened, allowed me to track Chris and whatever phone he was using based on his number. Chris had a long history of drugging out and falling off the deep end and I had to find some way of tracking him down. This program had lots of additional bells and whistles - his phone could be turned on remotely, turned into a recording device of conversations or even other phones around it by creating a small hot-spot. So, between Chris’s phone, and those he was around, I was able to quickly find him, or at least those he had been with recently. The info was uploaded into a secret email account in the cloud as sort of a buffer. It was never real time, but close enough. Hawk and his men would find nothing on my phone. The Assistant D.A. McLeod on the other hand I suspected would have found a great deal that was of interest.

 

Some time later as I laid on the floor covered in the filth of multiple men, shivering from the meth and the shock of abuse to my body, Hawk stomped back in. “Well agent,” he said, far more calmly than he was, “Your phone showed me nothing, although I must admit I was surprised in your taste of music - and porn. Your little friend has now become a risk to me, to this operation, to those I work for. Come with me. We’re shifting operations to a new facility he is not aware of.” I was shoved into the back of an unmarked van still naked except for the tattered remnants of my DEA windbreaker. Hawk slammed me down onto the uneven floor, slid his dick inside my cum filled ass and began pumping me as the van rocked side to side as we turned and drove away. “Head south first,” Hawk instructed one of the armed men sitting against the van wall, “I want Mr. DEA Agent here to know what a true AIDs dump he is when I fill him with another load while we are parked in front of his office building.” Hawk dismissed any feedback about that being unwise and proceeded to fuck me harder, to try to punish me for what he still believed I did. “Since we’re going to be in the neighborhood, why don’t you let me out so I can get back to work? I thought the whole idea was for me to be an asset in the office - not just some fuck toy.” That got me a hard knock to the mouth, a renewed taste of iron as my cut lip opened again, “YOU WILL DO WHAT I SAY, WHEN I SAY. RIGHT NOW - YOU ARE GOING TO MILK A FEW LOADS OUT OF ME. I KNOW EVERY THRUST OF MY SUPERIOR DICK PAINS YOU. I CAN FEEL YOUR BODY TENSE, YOUR MUSCLES QUIVER. YOU CAN FIGHT IT AGENT, BUT IN THE END, I WILL BREAK YOU AND TURN YOU INTO JUST A DEFLATED AIDS BAG. AND OH YES, WHEN WE HAD YOUR PHONE WE USED IT TO CALL YOUR OFFICE AND MY MAN ON THE INSIDE CONFIRMED THE CALL. FAMILY EMERGENCY AND ALL THAT, SO YOU WON’T BE IN TODAY. WE’RE THERE? GOOD. I’M READY TO INFECT YOUR ASS AGAIN AGENT!”

 

Hawk rolled off me, the van pulled away, and I inched closer to the far wall. The two masked guards opposite me were two of the ones who had tortured me earlier. I could see their eyes and I knew somewhere deep down they realized they were marked. Voices rose from the front, the men shifted nervously, Hawk crab walked up to the front seats and shook his head vigorously back and forth and hit the back of the seat with his fist. He turned and glared at me. I wanted to smile, but remained expressionless. The van pulled to the side. Hawk came back, stood over me, raised his fist back and trembled in rage. I stayed still. He then exhaled, lowered his fist, and said, “It appears that my backup lab was just raided by a multi-agency team and a number of my men arrested.” I piled on, “Wouldn’t that be the sort of thing that you would think your ‘people’ inside the DEA, local police, and others would have given you a heads up on?” Hawk growled. I continued, “I could have warned you if I had been at work like I was supposed to be and not here being some fucking chew toy for your pack of dogs. Clearly this is bigger than Chris - or me. I have never been to this other place right? You said Chris had not either so that means you must have a mole. Someone who has been on your team for a while has sold you out.” I looked to the masked men on the other side of the van with a clear, questioning look, then to the two men up front and stated again to Hawk, “Someone sold you out.” Hawk’s head whipped to the side, the front, and back. His eyes narrowed. He calculated loss, risk, safety, and the many forks in the road before him all within seconds. Hawk edged over between the two masked men, placed his left hand on the shoulder of one, his right on the shoulder of the other, leaned in and spoke in a low voice.

 

The two masked guards moved with practiced stealth and grace in a dance of death. Before they could react, the two members of Hawk’s drug gang that had been sitting in the front seats were pulled into the back and any threat they may have posed removed. One of the masked men eased into the driver’s seat, rolled his mask up onto his forehead, and put the van into drive. Hawk looked at his former colleagues, “All threats must be eliminated until I get this under control.” The van rolled over a familiar bump; I was hustled out the side door, up the steps, and into my kitchen. Hawk strolled in and looked around, “For now, we will stay here. What better place to hold out until things settle than a DEA agent’s house, right?” The masked guards did a quick check of the place, confirmed no one else was there, and emptied the chamber of a back up revolver they found in my dresser. Hawk sat at my table like he was king shit. He dumped out two bags of his meth - the Aryan Eagle black and menacing - then proceeded to chop it up. “Come agent. Let’s enjoy ourselves shall we. You and I do not need to be enemies. Frankly I see us as friends who are just - shall we say - getting to know each other. I know you Agent - I know your ass - I know you claim to be a top but when I am inside you and getting ready to spill my toxic seed your hole clenches tight, milking me like a Bavarian maid.” The hours passed. The guards were on high alert, Hawk was on the phone making call after call, trying to get control of a situation that clearly was spinning wild. One of the guards had left to get rid of the van – and the bodies - and when he returned, he had brought with him a large duffle bag that contained a number of bug-out supplies including an entire box of dozens of SIM cards. After every call Hawk switched out the cards and one of the guards would destroy the one just used. Clearly no one was going to track him that way. “Mind if I make some iced tea?” I asked. Hawk shrugged, one of the guards checked the cupboard then nodded. I turned on the faucet and reached over and twisted the little wand on the mini-blinds over the sink. The blinds did not open all the way, but they were open enough - I hoped it was enough.

 

Hawk was calmer and high and still had a trace of meth around his right nostril. He took his shirt off, rubbed his hands over his chest and torso, outlining his tattoos, and admiring his muscled Aryan physique. The guards continued their rounds as Hawk stripped, his massive uncut dick demanding attention being one of those freaks of nature that meth did not make go limp. “Let me just have a little more tea,” I told Hawk as he tried to push me to my knees to suck him. He grunted and stroked his dick awaiting my return. I refilled the glasses of the guards and handed it to them, then returned to the kitchen, knelt on my floor, and let Hawk pummel my throat like I knew he planned to pummel my ass. Had it been enough? Hawk ordered me to bend over the table so he could spit fuck my ass. I handed him a glass of iced tea, “Here. If you’re going to fill my ass with more cum you need to keep hydrated.” Hawk smiled, took the glass, downed about a quarter of it then as he tried aiming his dick into my hole with his other hand the glass slipped, shattered, ice tea spreading across the floor. Was it enough? The grunts and fullness of his dick inside my ass dulled the world around me. Or maybe that was the meth. I barely registered when I heard the first THUD. Hawk paused and asked, “What was that?” He was looking to the front of the house. I slid off his dick, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him down with me to the floor as I begged, “FUCK ME ON MY BACK. YOU’RE RIGHT. I NEED TO SUBMIT AND THIS WAY I CAN FEEL YOU FILL ME DEEP WITH YOUR AIDS CUM. YOU’RE MY SUPERIOR MASTER. I WANT TO SERVE YOU - CAN YOU SHOW ME HOW TO SERVE YOU? PLEASE YOU? OH BREED ME!” Any thought Hawk might have had in his head went WHOOSH and vanished. All he saw was victory. All he felt was my hands clasping at his hips to pull his raw Aryan dick deeper. All he understood was that I was his. Fucking dumb animal!

 

Hawk’s body slumped forward, his weight pinning me to the floor, my arm unable to avoid the splinters of glass that now pierced it. A familiar voice laughed, “Well, well, well, Agent. I must say I didn’t recognize you. Usually I’m the one on my back looking up.” I exhaled then had to laugh as a muscled arm reached down and helped me sit up. Jayce. While Chris and I were best friends growing up, Jayce and I were more like best enemies. We were total opposites in everything from our build to our families. Mine was law abiding, his was the biggest street gang in the city. Yet, Jayce and I alone, together, in bed, was always a good thing and I had dumped plenty of my loads up his sweet black ass. Between my job, and his gang, we of course kept our escapades secret, but on occasion, I was able to help him and let him know when the DEA was closing in on his family’s business and now he was able to pay that all back. We had worked out a secret signal long ago - my kitchen blinds. If they were closed, I had family around or for whatever reason could not see him. If they were totally open, the coast was clear. If they were only partially open, tilted up, then there was danger. I had relied on Jayce’s street skills to figure out the rest and lucky for me - and unlucky for Hawk and his men - he did. OK, well the Rohypnol I might have spiked the iced tea with helped too. I know, I know, who keeps crushed date rape drugs in their kitchen cabinet in a sugar bowl? I was a Boy Scout and I’m a DEA agent and I was prepared.

 

I rubbed my face. Jayce handed me a glass of water. I gulped it down, shook my head, “Thanks,” I said. Suddenly a piercing scream exploded from the next room. Jayce helped me stand, we walked in, and one of Jayce’s guys shrugged and said, “Smurfette just bit off most of his left ear.” Jayce laughed, lit a joint, nodded to the large, black/blue Pit Bull name Smurfette that was knotting Hawk’s ass as he asked, “I don’t think you need both ears to be a bitch do you?” I could only laugh. I never knew what happened to the armed guards Hawk had - the ones I vowed to take out. When I asked Jayce he just shrugged and said, “You see them assholes around anyplace? Ain’t nothing to see man. Nothing to see.” Before Jayce left, and as I watched some of the guys from his family’s gang drag Hawk’s bloodied – but still alive - body out of my house, I went over to the shreds of my DEA windbreaker and pulled out a couple packets of meth with the Aryan eagle mark and a blue shipping receipt. “Here,” I said as I handed him the meth. “When they were preparing to move I was able to figure out why his meth is so damn good. Here are some samples of his latest cook and trust me - that shit is fucking awesome! But more importantly is this. This manifest shows you the extra ingredient he used to make the shit so pure, so kick ass. It’s yours now. Someone needs to step in and become the new, biggest cook and seller in the region.” Jayce smiled, reached down and stroked my dick, then whispered, “So, when do I get to lay on my back again for you Agent?”

 

The next week at the office was fucking crazy. Reports of gang wars, multi-agency task force take downs of the biggest meth cook in the region, connections to Colombian cartels, or maybe the Russians, every day brought some new ripple in the pond created by the small stones I had cast. I was at my desk when there was a large commotion; a TACT Team goose-stepped into the situation room surrounding my cube. The DIC (DEA Agent in Charge) walked through the melee and set a stained, cardboard box on my desk. “This was just delivered for you,” he said while shaking his head. I looked at him, then the box, lifted one flap, then the next, and next, and pulled out a typed note that was resting near the top. The note said, “I DON’T THINK YOU NEED HANDS TO BE A BITCH EITHER.” My eyes wide, I pushed my chair back, stood up, and peered down into the box. My ‘gift’ was wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. I took a pen and eased back the ridges of paper and my breath caught - there in the box was a set of hands clasped together as if in prayer. Within the hour the lab techs would confirm what I already knew - those hands belonged to Hawk.

CASE CLOSED.

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

 

 

To have my body marked with some Aryan AIDS DNA, is one of my hot dream, I would really LOVE that and if the Aryan AIDS DNA is from cut cocks it will be much better.