"Can we take some time afterwards and see some of Europe?" I begged. "I've never been there and this may be my only time."
"We'll see," he smiled.
Chapter 3
The flight to Amsterdam was long, but we joined the Mile High Club at about four hours into our journey. The bathrooms in the aircraft were tiny, but we managed to squeeze in together. I bent over the metal toilet and took the usual big load of baby gravy from Gene deep into my ass. He sucked me off as he sat on the john and drained my teenage nuts. We left with a smile. No one saw us open the door to the lavatory, so we were golden.
Well, we thought we were until a steward leaned over our seats and smiled, "Welcome to the Mile High Club!" Our gaydar had been working. We assumed he was gay as soon as we'd boarded the plane at home. Too bad there wasn't a certificate or medal celebrating our tryst.
We breezed through Immigration and Customs at Schiphol Airport. Gene had reserved a car for us for our journey to Bruges, Belgium. The Volkswagen Jetta diesel was the perfect size for us and still got decent mileage. Although we'd grabbed only a few hours sleep on the flight, we were wide awake and ready for the drive ahead of us. Reservations had been made at a bed and breakfast at our destination. Traffic was appalling as we drove around Antwerp on the autobahn. When we finally got away from the congestion, the posted limit was 120 kilometers per hour (that's about 75 miles per hour). But, at that speed, we were passed up by everyone except the heavy trucks. Gene tried to keep up, but decided they were driving too fast for the traffic conditions. I thought he was being an old lady, but I didn't say anything. However, he did maintain a speed of more than 80 miles per hour. We'd get to Bruges in plenty of time to satisfy the reservation check-in time of 6 p.m.
The directions to get to our hotel were excellent. We drove right to it. Gene and I stretched and pulled our belongings out of the car. Our hosts signed us in and showed us to the third floor bedroom we'd be staying in. The stairway was nearly straight up! I was happy that our suitcases didn't weight too much. But, it was still a struggle to get them up the winding, steep steps. The en suite bath was roomy and modern. Our hosts said that the continental breakfast was as early as 7 a.m. or as late as 10 a.m. They suggested that if we really wanted to see the city, we should rent bicycles at a shop a few blocks away. That rental place, they said, charged about half what everyone else in town did and the bikes were every bit as good as the others.
With directions clear, we asked about a good place to eat. "Where do the locals eat?" Gene had asked.
"Right across the street, next to the canal is the best place in the neighborhood. The restaurant itself is right on the corner across from us. The servers walk across the little street and take your orders and bring you the food. It is excellent!" the woman smiled. "You'll not be disappointed. And their English is superb." We checked out the extensive menu posted in a small window of the restaurant. Her recommendation seemed to be a good one. We'd be back later for dinner. Dinner in Europe is always served later than we are used to. So, we decided to have a light snack downtown after we got our bikes.
We rented the bikes and slowly surveyed the layout of the city. Several pastry, chocolate, lace, and beer-brewing shops lined the streets. We each had a delicious pastry which we chased with beer and a chocolate. At the direction of the bike shop owner, we cycled along the flat, paved barge paths. Gene had purchased a bottle of wine and some crusty bread to enjoy later. An hour of cycling later, we pulled into a meadow next to the river and leisurely enjoyed his purchases.
By eight in the evening, we'd returned the bicycles, and walked back to the restaurant we'd selected earlier. The service was fast and efficient. When the food and wine were brought out, Gene had to take pictures. They truly were artisans in their food presentations. The wine was a perfect accompaniment to our meal. The waiter didn't hover, leaving us to enjoy our meal and some quiet time. If Gene hadn't asked for the bill, we could have spent the night there without being disturbed.
Back in the bed and breakfast, Gene called his office to see if any more information had been gained about the hacker trying to get into his systems. He was assured there had been no more attacks, but they expected one again soon. As he was about to hang-up, the sergeant on the line asked Gene to hang on. Something was up! We waited impatiently for another minute.
"He's in Bruges for sure," the sergeant began. "He's in an apartment building about four blocks from you." He gave Gene the address of the building. "But, I don't know which floor he's on. The information we have states that the building is five stories high. We can tell you that he's in the northwest corner."
While the sergeant was relaying the information, Gene pulled out equipment I'd not seen before. "Give me his address again," Gene asked. He typed it into his laptop. "What does the satellite show?" Gene smiled. "Great! We have him!" He listened again. "Yeah, good point, but I think we have our man." Gene hung up and turned to me. "Only one apartment in the northwest corner has lights on. The sergeant pointed out that our man could be working in the dark, but that's unlikely. You wanna come along for the bust?"
"Yeah!" I exulted. I'd wanted to nail this guy as much as Gene had.
"We have no jurisdiction here, so I'll need to include the Belgians in this. They're on standby. I'll make the call," he added.
We dashed down the steep steps as rapidly as possible and nearly ran to the apartment building where our hacker lived. Sure enough, the only apartment in the northwest corner was on the fourth floor. Gene and I walked into the apartment building behind an old lady and her dog. She glanced at us, but ignored us as we walked up the stairs and she went into her ground level apartment. In European terms, our man was on the third floor. They count the ground floor as zero and the floor above it as one. Gene led the way as we stealthily crept up the staircase. At the right floor, we paused and listened. No sounds came from the target apartment. We stepped closer and Gene put his ear to the door. He could hear typing and mimed the motion for me.
In the distance, and growing closer, we could hear the police sirens. "Shit!" Gene whispered. "They were supposed to come in quietly," he snarled. "Open up! Police!" he bellowed in a loud voice in English and in French as he pounded on the door. The transom over the door rattled and a metallic object landed at our feet. "Oh, SHIT!" Gene exploded. "Grenade!" He pushed me back down the hallway and landed on top of me at the top of the stairs. As we bumped down to the next landing, an explosion rocked the building. The sound of heavy footsteps thundered down another stairway. A second explosion followed, blowing apart the remnants of the apartment door we'd just stood before.
Police sirens grew nearer. Maybe they'd catch the guy leaving the building. A small fire had started in the apartment. Gene dashed inside after he'd checked for other occupants. However, from the state of the shattered apartment, anyone still inside would be seriously injured or dead. The fire was the gas line to the stove. It burned brightly, but hadn't ignited any seriously flammable items. Gene reached behind the burning line and turned off the gas.
Meanwhile, I'd spotted the computer under a nearby table. The computer was toast. Twisted metal exposed the inner workings of it. Gene reached inside and pried away the hard drive. "You won't get a thing out of that hunk of junk," I sighed.
He smiled at me and pocketed the device. "You never know what the computer wizards at home can find on a drive as damaged as this one," he said. Exiting to the hallway, we waited for the police with hands up and identification in hand. Vouching for our reason to be there, the officer in charge asked us to wait on the street to make a statement. Another officer took down our statement with a hand-held transcriber. He asked a few questions, some of which Gene wouldn't answer, citing national security. The officer nodded, but didn't like it. Gene gave him the name of Gene's commanding officer and told the policeman to take it up with him if the officer wanted to try to get more information. The officer in charge allowed us to leave 20 minutes later.
"That went well," I smirked as we entered our room at our bed and breakfast.
"Could have been better," Gene rejoined. "There's no point in sticking around. I'll have my sergeant get us on the next plane home. We should leave tomorrow."
"Do we really have to?" I whined. "Couldn't you take the hard drive to the embassy and send it home in a diplomatic pouch?"
"You learn quickly," Gene grinned. "Yeah, I could do that. There really isn't anything I can do about downloading the data at home, other than wait and watch. My people there are the experts, not me. Sure, we can take a couple of extra day," he finally agreed. "What would you like to do?"
"Besides fuck like rabbits?" I laughed. Gene smiled and shook his head.
"We can do that at home," he replied to the obvious rhetorical question.
I began stripping out of my clothes. "Let's discuss it in bed," I smiled suggestively. "I can see you need to release some tension."
"You think cumming in that pretty ass is going to make things better?" he said as I bent over and spread my ass for him. "Well," he smiled, "it couldn't hurt." He fell to his knees and began to eat out my manhole. I pulled his head deeper into my ass with my right hand and spread my ass wider with the other hand. "You're such a pig," Gene sighed into my ass trench, gasping for breath. "I'm gonna pound you into hamburger!" he promised.
He did his best. Gene nutted in my ass six time in the following two hours before he finally allowed me to pull away and race for the bathroom. I had so much of his seed in me that I sloshed when I moved. He blew me three times, but needed to seed more than I needed to nut. In the morning, I got even with a deep and creamy fuck into his black and eager ass. It was lovemaking, not hard sex like the night before had been. That was what we both needed after a refreshing sleep.
We arose at 8:30 and showered. By nine, we were downstairs in the dining room. Another couple was already seated. They were just finishing their breakfast and deciding what to do next. A counter was spread with yogurt on ice, fresh fruit, cereal in large bowls, hard-boiled eggs, several kinds of hard rolls, and buttery croissants. Fresh milk, cream, coffee, jams, and cold cuts rounded out the buffet. We were famished when we began, but well sated by 9:30.
For the day, we travelled down the French coast to Dunkirk (Dunkerque in French and Duinkerke in Dutch) and then to a launch site for the V-2 rockets near Watten. We returned to Bruges for the night. The following day, we drove to Paris. What a mistake that was! Parisian traffic was chaotic at best. We parked the car at a hotel and used the Metro to get around. We hit several of the tourist sites before retiring for the evening. The next day, we drove back to Amsterdam, having turned in the car at the airport and taking the train into the city. The bike parking structure next to the train station amazed me. There had to be thousands of bikes stored there for the day. Gene later took me to the red light district. I was unimpressed. It was commercial and touristy. I couldn't wait to leave. But, we did get in a canal trip in the evening that was well worth it.
Gene had booked us into a hotel at the airport, so we could leave early the next morning for home. We watched gay porno on the television (the Dutch are so open-minded!) and did our best to imitate the actors. Of course, we nutted long before the actors did, but it was still worth watching. I liked the oversexed person that Gene had become. When on vacation, he couldn't get enough of me and my ass. He loved taking my dick up his black butt more than he did at home. Here, he wasn't distracted by work. I'd have to get him away from the base and his home more frequently.
Before we boarded the plane, Gene got a secure text message which stated that the hacker was Albanian, had eluded the Belgian police, and the Belgians were sorry that they hadn't followed instructions about the police sirens. Yeah, "sorry" makes it all better. Our hacker would only move on and set up shop again. Clearly, this wasn't some lone wolf trying to crack the Air Force systems. Someone was supplying him with explosives and funding to keep him pounding away at our computer systems. The name on the apartment lease was obviously fictitious. For the time being, our pursuit was at a dead-end. They had only begun working on the damaged hard drive.
The flight home was a little bouncy. Evidently, we were battling the jet stream. Making things worse, the food was abysmal. How could the same airline have such good food going over and so rotten coming home? The food originated in Europe. The food is always better there! The wine was from California, instead of France, Italy, or Germany. I guess the vineyard in California had the contract. It wasn't very good, either. Maybe they got better food and wine in Business and First Class.
Although the flight was late arriving, we got home before the rush hour traffic began. We started some laundry, checked the mail, and the phone for messages. Gene checked in with his people in case something had been learned from the hard drive he'd sent ahead of us. Unfortunately, nothing helpful had been gleaned from it.
Jet lag caught up with us about 8 p.m. We hit the sack and fell instantly asleep. As the summer sky lightened in the morning, we were fucking. We'd gotten our eight hours of sleep and needed something more fun to do before we got up to start our day. Gene started it. He woke me up as he slid his monster up my ass. Of course, I pushed back against him, allowing my ass to swallow his full 10" of man meat. He rolled me on to my stomach when he knew I was awake and plowed me deeply. Within another 30 seconds, he was flooding my friendly love tunnel with baby batter. He stayed atop and inside me for another five minutes, enjoying the sexual afterglow.
When he pulled out and flopped on the bed next to me, I rolled atop him and raised his legs. He didn't resist for a moment. Pushing his beautiful legs into his chest and allowing his ankles to rest on my shoulders, I pumped and plowed his hungry hole. My need to seed overwhelmed me before I could slow down. Less than a minute after I pressed his knees into his chest, I was nutting in his muscled ass. His hands worked my ass, urging me to fuck him faster and harder. As much cum as I was squirting, he needn't have worried about what would happen.
After I pulled out, we felched each other for a few minutes, savoring the scent and taste of creamed manhole. Later in the shower, we played with each other and were rewarded with more sperm. Life with Gene was good!
The weekend was upon us, so we shopped and worked a couple of hours in the yard. There was only so much that the yard service did. We were expected to do the rest. After a shower (and another satisfying romp and cum exchange), Gene called the base to see if there was any news. He was told they were making progress, but it was slow. They might have more definitive results by the middle of next week they said.
The middle of the week came and went with no progress. "The hard drive was well and truly trashed," the Tech Sergeant said. "The bits and pieces we are getting aren't helpful. We're getting only fragments of addresses, files, pictures, etc. This may be a dead-end."
The Belgians hadn't come up with anything new, either.
However, the following week, our hacker was attacking the base computers again. He was relentless, but unsuccessful. Our latest security patches were keeping him out, but for how long was uncertain. No computer system is completely immune to attack, unless it is completely isolated. And that wasn't possible, given the nature of our work and the numbers of people across the country who needed legitimate access to our data.
More tracers were sent back along the line to try to locate our demon again. But, he was elusive. In July, we finally caught a break. For whatever reason, he stayed on the line much longer than usual. Carelessness or deliberate, we didn't care. We had him! He was in St. Omer, France, just across the border from Belgium. The French gendarmes would nail him. Anyway, that was the plan.
Oddly enough, it worked. They had him in custody and were holding him for us. I had no idea what the jurisdictional issues were or how we could arrest him on our authority, but they did. Later in the day, Air Force interrogators had him singing like a canary. He gave up a name and that the money behind the operation came from several sources, none friendly to the U.S.
With the name came a problem. He was a well-known arms dealer with deep connections to organized crime and nefarious regimes around the globe. He owned enough politicians in enough countries that no one would honor our extradition request. Or, if they said they'd arrest him, they warned him to leave or dragged their feet until he was told to leave. This was getting us nowhere.
"What he's doing isn't a capital crime, so we can't ask for termination with extreme prejudice," Gene sighed. "He's not officially a spy for any country, but he has the equivalent of diplomatic immunity with all his political connections. The four countries that we know support him aren't friends of ours, so it'd be pointless to ask them to cooperate."
"Thinking longer term, what would happen if we did catch the guy or terminated him?" I asked.
"Those governments would find someone else to do their dirty work," Gene allowed.
"But, without his political connections and cover," I pointed out. "I think we'd be ahead if he didn't exist."
"Possibly, but if these four countries lost him, they'd only have to find some gifted computer geek to keep pounding on us," he sighed. "Some of those hackers would be proud to bring down a computer system like ours, regardless of the consequences."
"But, they'd have to recruit and train them," I protested. "That could give us enough time to devise even more solid security."
"Delay is our friend. I agree," Gene smiled. "But, we aren't gonna catch this guy or get any governments to act. We don't have the horsepower."
"Don't you have something off the books that could help us out?" I pressed.
"That would have to come from the highest levels and I don't see our little corner of the world as being that crucial to national security."
"Maybe someone higher up will, if you phrase it correctly."
"Maybe," he allowed. "Let me call an old friend who has his finger in a lot of black budgets. He might have a solution to our problem."
This story is fiction. Your life isn't. Always play SAFE!
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