Caitlin Cardinale p1

Caitlin Cardinale p1

Copyright © Catcher78. All Rights reserved.

Author's notes: This is a work of fiction and fantasy. There's no underage sex. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. Constant collaborator, Challenger69, assisted as always. None of my stories use AI technology, not now and not ever.

2025

I was first mentioned in this story, although unnamed as Leanna's trainer:

I had been a field officer operative in 2006 for INR (U. S. State Department). I had fallen in love with my supervisor in the U. S. embassy in London, David. I'm just going to say that David is not his real name; he's a U. S. Senator, and I will leave his name out of this story. Somebody at the farm leaked the evening I had with Leanna to David, and he and I are recently divorced, and he has announced he's engaged. Black men do not put up with their white wives discovering their sexuality includes women.

I never should have got into that shower with her, but there it is; she destroyed me. The service put me into training, and I lost weight from one hundred sixty-five pounds to one hundred and thirty-seven pounds. My boys are with David, and there is a no contact order because I got a little out of control. I cannot best describe my love for David or my boys, who I will not name since they are teenagers. I will always love my husband till I stop breathing.

When I had lost weight to one hundred and forty-five pounds, my tits almost sagged to my crotch; the stretch marks on my stomach and my ass were riddled with cellulite, that is to say, ugly fat.

All of this exercise and work was at Camp Peary, which exists under the aegis of the Department of Defense (WAR now), and as an employee of the Secretary of State, I was being seconded to the FBI for a special project. I had this sense that my boss thought I might be suicidal and was doing something to keep me busy.

It worked, except at night. Like Leanna, I grew up in Seattle, Washington. Not in South Seattle, but on Queen Anne Hill, just north of the corner of Second Avenue West and Boston Street. Two-Two-OH-EIGHT specifically, with a high grass bank, and a bedroom next to my parent's room, where she gave my dad head, six days a week; then she would run to the sink and spit it out, and rinse her mouth out with Listerine. I dreamt that I rode a high wire on a tricycle towards Five Corners as I had as a two-year-old; I now dreamt again.

He quit fucking her after she started cheating on him. I was in the fourth grade in the summer, and it was a week before my tenth birthday. He was a school teacher and was teaching summer school at Garfield High School, and she was a real estate broker. I was at my friend Rosemary Owens' home, and she asked me, her mom did, if my parents were getting divorced. We went to the same Church, St. Anne's, on the corner of Second West and Galer Street.

I started crying, and Rosemary's mom said, "Oh honey, I'm so sorry." she wasn't, she wanted to hurt my mom through me. Dad would bang her; I know what he was doing now. I was in the seventh grade at McClure Middle School when he filed for divorce. She remarried one of the guys she was fucking. Dad knew he needed evidence; he got it, and primary custody. She was supposed to have visitation rights, but the one time we talked, I told her almost everyone on the Hill knew, especially my friends, that she was a cheating whore. I was almost fourteen when I told her that.

When I was sixteen, her man was struggling to make money, and was selling cocaine on Queen Anne Hill of all places, and was quite successful, but not discreet. The last noises my mom ever heard were 'GUN', and the sound of a riot gun, which killed her and him. She lingered for a month, as her head was buried in his crotch. Several pellets hit her upper body; most of his face was gone.

David thought that was why I cheated. It was not. Leanna is the spitting image of Blake Lively; except she's twenty-six and not forty. Every night I dreamt of her, and when I masturbated, it was to her, really it was. When we interviewed her, I felt something that I never felt with David or the other men I'd been with. Let me dispel one thing from my history: David did not have a so-called big black cock. It was my man's dick, and I loved it, and him, but I had bigger dicks, (black people hate the word 'cock'), and they were white, a couple that was smaller. But it was David's dick, and I love him.

But as I write this, I realize that I love Leanna, and she will never ever know. Camp Peary has a full-sized clinic, and I had off-and-on plastic surgery for two months. Fat removal from my ass and thighs, under my arms, the double chin, and waddle on my neck. Then my face, well, under my eyes, my eyebrows, behind my ears, my nose, and lastly enormous augmentation to my tits and ass. My new titties sat on top of my pectoral muscle and shimmered when I moved, and inhaled or exhaled. I was a MILF. Both cheeks of my ass had a green card symbol for spades tattooed on them, symbolizing I only fucked black men, which was so fucked up, as I was about ninety-two percent lesbian now. I looked as if I was twenty-eight or so years old.

There was actually a real operation, and I had been taught tradecraft, seeing my own special signal, which was lipstick on restroom mirrors, with paper in a toilet paper receptacle in a stall. I had long training cycles on knife fighting and shooting with various revolvers and machine pistols. I became very good with knives. I seemed to get worse the more I shot.

My coordinators took me to a meeting with the United States Attorney General, who is dead; he just did not know it. The net of it was the AG thought that there were FBI agents and Supervisors that had been subverted by Mexican and other Central American countries for the purpose of making billions of dollars in sales, primarily with cocaine and meth.

On January fourth, my handler and I met with the attorney general of the United States to discuss my mission to infiltrate various illegal gangs engaged in drug trafficking. He would soon be out of office. We (myself, my handler Jeannette, and a medic) left Camp Peary's airfield aboard a C-130 owned by Lynden Air Freight at twenty-three thirty on January 4th, 2025. We arrived at zero three hundred hours in Deming, New Mexico, at the municipal airport. There was nobody staffing the facility, but the pilot could activate the runway lights.

Jeannette had the keys to a red 1979 Chevrolet pickup that was filthy on the outside, with empty fast food wrappers from Sonic drive-in on the inside. It was famous for being open all night. "I have not eaten for thirty hours; go to Sonic. I have fifteen fucking dollars, a fake driver's license, and my makeup. God knows when I'll eat again."

I ordered a cheesy breakfast burrito and cheesy fries. I leaned forward while I ate, so as to not get my outfit dirty. We drove to the Americana Inn in El Paso in an hour and a half, and she booked two nights. My trolling would begin that night.

I was afraid, excited, and horny, and needed release. I turned on the television and ordered a lesbian porn movie of Ryan Ryans fucking Abby Cross. I pulled off my cowboy boots and torn jeans in front of Jeanette, and watched Abby seduce a supposedly straight and married Ryan, go down on Ryan, and play with her gorgeous titties. I was rubbing my furry lips and clit when Jeanette crawled between my legs, and I turned off the movie. She had red hair, a very practiced mouth, and such a long tongue.

Nobody had touched me in over a year. She put two fingers in me and touched this spot; she told me afterwards it was my G-spot. At some point she sat on my face. Submitting to her was exquisite.

She woke me up at nine in the evening and told me to shower and get ready. I was not as horny, but asked her to shower with me with a movement of my head.

Her response was, "We need to get serious, think of yourself as Catalina Garcia."

I said, "I am so fucking afraid, Jeanette. I'm going to be dead in a week, just because some bitch leaked that tape. Who would hate me so much?"

She was quiet, and then said, "David has been cheating on you for ten years. He's a total hound, and his new bride has been fucking him the whole time. You're lucky to get away from him."

Something turned off in me. I knew she was telling me the truth. He would pay for stealing my sons from me, no matter what I had to do.

I put my hair in a ponytail, and three hoop earrings in each ear, one smaller than the next. I had a landing strip above my clitoris, and rubbed my legs with Vaseline intensive care. I was born with big fat lips. I drew a bit outside the lines, as I thought I might suck some dick in the next few hours. I sprayed way too much Victoria's Secret's 'Pure Seduction' all over me.

She had ordered some cheese pizza from Domino's. I looked at her and said, "That's not what I want to eat, Baby."

She let me feast between her rosebud, and very gorgeous cunt for a while, to great effect. I finished by devouring her mouth. I stood up and reapplied my lipstick; my smell was a new variety that I was going to suggest to Victoria's Secret, 'eau de cunt'.

I checked my outfit: too-tight, torn 501s, pink wife beater with side boob, and of course no bra, pink G-string underpants, and my scuffed cowboy boots.

I said, "In another time I'd get down on my knee and propose to you. Please do not forget me."

I strutted into the stripper joint Las Toxicas, where I would pay the entrance fee to the enormous black bouncer. He was six foot eight inches tall, ripped, and I showed him my driver's license. I reached out and touched his hand with my crimson nail extensions and said, "Papi, Necesito que me llenen la boca." (Fill my mouth up, daddy) His nostrils opened up like he was a cartoon bull. He took my hand and walked me down a hall as I bumped his leg while I walked with him. He unlocked a door, and we went in. He closed and locked the door, turned, and kissed me, deeply and tenderly. One enormous hand was kneading my ass, as this enormous bulge was against my belly.

Un-performatively, I moaned into his mouth. He'd made me forget Jeanette and Leanna, and I wanted him badly. He unbuckled my 501s as I kicked my boots off, and pulled my wife beater up, and pushed my titties towards him. When he entered me, I said, nearly delirious, "Ay dios mio!"

I did not fucking measure him, but it was fatter and longer than anything that had ever been in me before. I lay there as he slowly made love to me, and that is what was happening: he wanted me, and it was so fucking glorious. I clung to his massive shoulders as I felt so full. Finally, he released inside of me. I had never ever had an orgasm from David fucking me; lots of married women faked orgasms according to Mom's Cosmopolitan, but I was not faking now. I lay there as my cunt milked him.

He started to get off me, and I slid out from underneath him, opened my mouth, and cleaned him off with my mouth very slowly, as I stared up to see his eyes watching me.

He had really large testicles; I could only get one in my mouth, and made love to it and then the other, while gently pulling on that fuck stick. He was watching me with elbows propping him up. I gently pushed his chest so that he lay on his back. I straddled his dick, grabbed it, and rubbed it over my rosebud. David loved fucking my ass, and it HAD been my favorite, and why not try it with this man. The hardest part was pushing the head into my ass, but once he was in, it was so much better. It is as if every sixty-fourth of an inch had a bazillion pleasure spots, and he touched all of them for thirty minutes or so. I collapsed on his chest, and he held me, and fucked me over and over again as I came on that dick, and again the sensation of his cum warming my insides was extraordinary.

When he caught his breath, he started to push me off of him, and I whispered, "Abrazame Papi"

(Hold me, Daddy)

I wanted to fall asleep with him. I felt his arm wrap around me, and slumber found me almost immediately.

During the night, he carried me into an office, laid me on a sofa, and put a woolen blanket over me, which I became aware of as I heard him talking on the phone. I opened my eyes and saw him watching me. I smiled at him, and he returned it, "El Papi del bano?"

He pointed to a door so I stood up and started to walk, my cunt and ass hurt badly, "Papi, me duele el cuerpo," patting my ass, with an exaggerated frown. I sat down on the toilet and peed forever while squeezing out a turd along with a pint of his seed. I needed an enema badly, but was fucked.

He had put my boots back on, but nothing else. I ran some cold water in the sink basin, crawled up on top of it, and tried to wash my cunt, because it stunk like lots of him in me.

He was standing behind his desk, and I slunk towards him, slipping in between him and the desk, and unbuttoned his very expensive trousers, made of what felt like a combination of wool and cotton. It was my intent to drain his huge balls.

It took me about ten minutes. He grabbed the back of my head, pushing that monster into my throat, as I did the best I could to breathe through my nose, and I could feel him deep in my throat until I felt his balls on my chin tighten. He released into my stomach, and released, then released again. Who needs breakfast? My belly was full.

I kissed the uncut head with little smooches, staring into his eyes, and whispered, "Mi pene, Papi" (my dick, Daddy), then asked him where my clothes were, and he pointed behind the couch.

I barely had them on when the door opened, and coffee for two was brought in with some grapes and sweet rolls. It was perfect, and so intimate. After we finished, we left his office and went out into an alley behind the stripper joint, and into the back seat of a black Suburban. Soon we were to cross the border to Ciudad Juarez. The driver asked for my driver's license, and I fished it out of my 501s and handed it to the driver.

My man reached through, grabbed my driver's license, and in English he said, "You're from Deming, New Mexico?"

I said in English, "No, that's fake. I am from Seattle in Washington State. I had to get away from a very bad man, Daddy. My name is Caitlin Cardinale; I am half Mexican and half Italian. My mom was a whore, and my ex-husband cheated on me with a number of women," I paused, "so I was seduced by a beautiful woman. Until I met you, it was the best sex I've ever had. Daddy, I will get out now; I do not deserve you."

He said, "No, no, this is good enough for now; we will get you a Mexican identification and passport today. He had an enormous mansion. He took me to his bedroom, and he destroyed me, not painfully so, rather perfectly. At five o'clock he woke me up, after fucking me to sleep again, and he had new clothes for me, a sun dress, lace panties, and he liked open toed pumps. Then there was a man who took my pictures for the passport and driver's license. My name was now, 'Elena Marquez'.

He said to me, "My name is Andrés Marquez."

"My wife Maria passed ten years ago, from a, umm, ruptured aorta. She was walking along, and just fell forward, and it was over."

"I am so, very sorry, my darling," grabbing his forearm.

Where did that come from? I knew it was what I felt.

He looked at me, and he knew I spoke the truth, nodded, and a tear slid from his eye. I reached up, wiped it away, and patted my heart. When he saw that, well, it was important.

In the morning, barely able to walk to our Suburban, my arm hooked into his, and he helped me into the back seat. We drove to the airport, and he had a private hangar where the driver parked. There was a Jet airliner; no, it had propellers with an old fashioned staircase to the door just behind the cockpit. He gestured for me to go first. I put a little more wiggle into my steps, and with two to go, I pulled up my dress.

There were fifteen seats, two configured as a love seat where we sat. There were two stewards and two pilots. Once in, the door was closed, and I could hear jets. I said, "Andrés, I hear jet engines, but our plane has propellers; what does it mean?"

"Elena, this is what's called a turboprop, a Lockheed L-188. It uses jet engines to drive the propellers. It is more fuel-efficient than a jet, and less than a piston engine. It was an old airliner when I bought it for next to nothing, and had it retrofitted as a private plane overall for a quarter of the cost of a modern private jet, and the operating costs are tiny."

He was wearing a tan linen suit, and he was hard. My hand snaked over and lightly rubbed up and down, causing him to groan, "Andrés, darling, let me take care of you."

I kept rubbing, then I undid his belt, pulling his pants and underpants down. Pulling my dress up over my hips, I grabbed his staff, rubbing it on my sopping pussy, and sat on his dick. He grabbed me above my hips, and pulled me up and down, and the orgasms started for me until he released. I climbed off of him after my aftershocks stopped, dropped to my knees in front of him, and licked up all his seed that had leaked out of my cunt onto his thighs, and of course cleaned his ball sack and his dick. He stood up, pulled up his underwear and pants, and we put our seat belts on.

Within seconds, the plane began moving, as the propellers were a blur, and it seemed like forever until we got to the end of the runway, turned onto it, and stopped. The engines got louder, then the brakes were released, and not long after that we lifted into the air smoothly, climbed steadily upwards, and flew south.

I had no idea where we were going; Jeanette was certain we were going to Guatemala. Four hours later we were served lunch, which Andrés explained to me: "This is traditionally our largest meal; we will start out with ceviche with shrimp, then octopus with rice, with a slow-cooked beef shoulder in onion sauce. It is not as good as we have at our home. My daughters love going out to Alma, an old town near the harbor in Cartagena."

Two daughters, home, Cartagena, where in hell is Cartagena?

"Two daughters, Andrés, what are their names and how old are they?"

"Mariana and Isabella are both twelve; they are identical twins. Would you like to see a picture of them from two months ago?"

I nodded yes.

He pulled out his phone and showed me a picture of two angels who looked as if his wife had been white like me. They were unbelievably beautiful.

"They are so beautiful, Andrés!"

End part one.