Operation Velvet Whisper (3/6)

Smith woke up to warmth, muscle, and the gentle sound of slow, steady breathing against the back of his neck. Julian’s arm was wrapped tightly around his waist, his bare chest rising and falling behind him. Smith purred softly, still half-asleep, nestling back into the embrace, his body aching. His pussy throbbed faintly, every little shift of his hips reminding him just how thoroughly he’d been fucked last night.

Then his eyes snapped open. Shit.

The mission. He was supposed to slip away after Julian fell asleep last night—sneak into his office, copy the files, get out clean, and finally have the agency turn him back into a man. But he’d let himself get distracted. Wrapped around Julian’s thick cock, moaning like some needy little cumslut instead of a field agent.

Week after week, Smith showed up perfectly dolled up—short skirts, glossy lips, heels clicking as he flirted with Julian at some party, only to be swept right back to the compound like it was routine. And week after week, he told himself this time he’d stay focused. But the moment that thick cock slipped between his lips or pushed up into his slick, desperate folds, everything else melted away. He’d end up bent over furniture, on his knees on the marble floor, legs spread on Julian’s bed moaning, “Mmm deeper, Daddy! F-fuck, like, don’t stop, pleaaaseee” —forgetting all about the mission until the next morning.

Tonight was no different.

He was down on his knees, eyes glazed, Julian’s cock gliding in and out of his mouth with a wet slurp. His hands clutched at Julian’s thighs for support as his head bobbed hungrily, spit dripping down his chin. Smith didn’t even flinch when a knock echoed through the penthouse—he just whimpered softly as the cock popped out of his mouth.

Julian smirked and tucked himself away. “Wait here, baby. I’ll be back in an hour. Just need to take care of something.”

Smith pouted, squirming a little on his knees. “M’kay, I’ll be like suuuper ready when you get back…”

But after a minute or two, his mind started to clear. He blinked, realization creeping in as he sat there. Fuck. He’d gotten distracted again. Then his eyes sharpened. Wait… this is it. This is my chance.

He scrambled to his feet, straightening his yellow mini dress and tottering out of the bedroom, heels clicking as he made his way down the hall, hips swaying reflexively. He peeked around corners, pausing at each door before quietly moving on, his heart racing with every step. Then, finally—Julian’s office.

Inside, he rushed to the desk, flipping on the monitor, his long nails clacking softly against the keys as he typed. It took only seconds to plug in the agency drive and start copying the files. His heart pounded. This was it. He was finally going to finish the mission… hopefully get his manhood back.

Then the door creaked open behind him. “Why are you in Mr. Stroud’s office?”

Smith whirled around, eyes wide. A guard—big, broad, manly—stood in the doorway. He gasped, scrambling to yank the drive from the computer before it could finish copying, heart pounding in his chest.

“I, um… got like kinda bored waiting for Daddy, so I was just like... trying to buy some super cute heels I found online…”

The guard let out a quiet sigh. “Let me call Mr. Stroud. See what he wants me to do with you.”

Smith panicked—if Julian found out he was in here, the whole mission could be over. His mind scrambled, cheeks burning as he minced up to the guard, every click of his heels feeling louder than the last. He draped his arms delicately around the man’s neck, pressing his soft tits against that solid chest, his voice dropping to a needy whisper.

“Before you call him… maybe you could, like… help me out?” he breathed, lips parting in a helpless pout. “Daddy left me soooo horny… and you look soooo hot...”

His hand slipped lower, fingers brushing over the thick bulge in the guard’s pants. He swallowed hard—it was big. Really big.

The guard looked down at him, eyes darkening as a smirk formed. He grabbed Smith’s tiny waist in his strong hands, spinning him around and bending him over the desk. Smith let out a soft, breathy gasp as his cheek pressed against the cool surface—then, without warning, the guard plunged his cock deep into Smith’s wet, aching pussy.

“Ohmygaaawwwd—nngghhh!” he cried, the sound ripping from his throat as he felt himself being split in half. This guard was huge—even bigger than Julian. His back arched automatically, nails clawing at the table as his body struggled to take it. His mouth hung open, lips slack and glossy, as each brutal thrust rocked him forward—his soft tits bouncing beneath the thin yellow dress, eyes fluttering before finally rolling back.

The desk creaked under him. Smith’s heels clicked and wobbled as the guard grabbed his hips and slammed deeper, filling him over and over while lewd moans spilled from his lips like syrup. Then with one final groan, the guard buried himself to the base, cock pulsing thickly as hot cum flooded Smith’s pussy.

The guard zipped up, glancing down at the mess he'd made. “Goddamn… you’re a needy little slut, aren’t you? Pussy was practically milking me dry,” he muttered, giving Smith’s ass a sharp smack that made him jolt. “Now hurry back to Mr. Stroud’s room and clean yourself up.”

Smith minced back toward Julian’s bedroom, cum leaking down onto his thigh, his cheeks burning with humiliation. This had been the perfect chance, and he’d ruined it—again. The only thing working in his favor was that the guard probably wouldn’t mention what happened. So, for now… the mission was still alive.