Not Far

You drag Sandy out into the street. She eventually complies, walking unevenly and painfully on her bare feet. You frown as you look around at the empty suburban street.

Your original plan was to flag down a nice car and commandeer it, but no one was driving now. Maybe you can go back and get Dr. Bryan's keys, or just knock on a neighbor's door.

But then you spot a large black SUV turning unto the street. That'll do, you smile. Wait, there's more, identical vehicles. And they're armored vehicles.

They surround you before you have a chance to flee. You put yourself behind Sandra, as you contemplate an exit strategy. "Mr. Schlansky," says a stern, imposing figure exiting the lead car in front of you and Sandy. "I'm Omar Goodwin, formerly of the FBI. We've been assigned by the United States Government to assist in your protection and preservation as long as you remain on United States soil or one of its allied governments. We have several safehouses for you to use, and, of course, the capability to transform any home of your choosing into a safehouse."

You look around you. At least ten men and women, in identical dark sunglasses and blazers marked "JSP" surround you in five vehicles. "Umm..." you say, getting out from behind your naked shield, "can you take me to my old house?"

"Absolutely."

Ten years ago, after living in a small condo since you left the Navy, you and Betty bought a nice three-bedroom home in the middle of the city about a block off from the James River, in order to raise your boy and two girls. She was an office manager, and you were always at odd jobs (truck mechanic, marketing, scuba instructor), so at the time, she paid the bulk of the mortgage.

When she first filed for divorce last year, the day after your twins graduated from high school, she made it known that she would keep the house. You began renting out a small apartment, and eventually landed a CDL and a job with Intercontinental Trucking.

But now you were a multi-millionaire in a convoy of armored SUVs being protected by the US government, and had universal acknowledgment as ruler over the planet. You would take back the house. Take back the wife. Take everything and anything ever denied you.

The car was cold, and an agent offered Sandy a JSP jacket, which she graciously accepted and hunkered underneath. You pulled it off of her, and pulled her in close. She eventually reciprocated, and cuddled with you, more to preserve warmth than out of any affection. Her tits were cold, so you put on the jacket and was given gloves.

"What's the plan, Mr. Schlansky?" yelled Goodwin from the passenger's seat. "I need you guys to break into the house, immobilize anyone in there, and then bring them into the living room for my arrival."

"Yes, sir. Me and my men should have a simple op like that done in less than three minutes."

"You better." You left unsaid what would happen if they fail, mainly because you had no idea what you'd do in that instance.

You sat comfortably in the back of the SUV, as the other vehicles and guards prepared about three blocks south for the operation. "You," you said to one of the female JSPs. "I'm recalling you from this op. You're going to keep me company."

She wasn't scared, she wasn't doubtful. She was a soldier, following your orders implicitly. She sat in the back in rear-facing seats of this large contraption, and removed her kevlar helmet. "Tell me about yourself, and strip off everything as you do so."

She didn't as much as blink at this absurd suggestion. She started with her jacket, shirt and vest: "I'm Agent Jordan Mears, previously of the US Army Special Forces. I was discharged from the service yesterday and deployed to the Joseph Schlansky Protective Detail of the United States Department of State."

She took off her shirt and unclasped the front of her flesh-colored bra, revealing a well-toned physique and just a handful of breasts. "I was told, based on your activities with Ms. Bryan outside of the crime scene yesterday, to expect frequent sexual activity on your part."

She removed her gunbelt, and in one quick motion, peeled off her uniform pants and underwear, showing a freshly waxed and completely shaved lower half. She was prepared. She removed some other minor doodads: a watch, her earrings, a wedding ring, her hairpin, a small crucifix necklace.

You had enough, and jumped forward to grapple this Amazon princess. She reciprocated as Sandy sat awkwardly watching you two fuck.

You slid off your boxers, and she slid down on the chairs, raising her legs in a manner to accept your member. Your phone tumbled out of your shirt pocket as you plugged away. She was a little dry, but trying to lubricate herself with some light fingering. Your phone rang as it fell next to Jordan's earpiece.

"He-hello," said Sandy as she answered your phone as you fucked this guard. "Ms. Bryan, inform Mr. Schlansky that we've secured the home and inhabitants whenever he has finished his current, um, activity."

"Um... okay." Sandy looked up as you bottomed out into the statuesque blonde.