Kinky Interventian: A Sam Winterberry CIA Antiterrorism Operation

By Habu

Sex and Spying, the Two Oldest Professions.
Kinky Intervention depicts the unfolding of a typical Sam Winterberry Candy Store counterterrorism operation.
No one from the outside could tell how much of the frequent successes of the counterespionage and counterterrorism operation of the CIA’s Candy Store unit activities were based on intricate plans and how much on coincidence and pure luck and how good the unit was in its planning and how much of its luck it provided itself.
Some of those inside the unit, although there were few beyond the unit’s chief, Sam Winterberry, himself, who had full knowledge of operation plans, knew, but they weren’t telling.
The Candy Store was a secret, even for the CIA, unit that combined prostitution with spying, the world’s two oldest professions, in ruthless and well beyond legal ways to protect and further the interests of U.S. intelligence.
No one from the outside could tell how much of the frequent successes of the counterespionage and counterterrorism operation of the CIA’s Candy Store unit activities were based on intricate plans and how much on coincidence and pure luck and how good the unit was in its planning and how much of its luck it provided itself. Some of those inside the unit, although there were few beyond the unit’s chief, Sam Winterberry, himself, who had full knowledge of operation plans, knew, but they weren’t telling. The Candy Store was a secret, even for the CIA, unit that combined prostitution with spying, the world’s two oldest professions, in ruthless and well beyond legal ways to protect and further the interests of U.S. intelligence. Kinky Intervention depicts the unfolding of a typical Sam Winterberry Candy Store counterterrorism operation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BarbarianSpy
• Release date: Jan 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781925568912

Habu

Habu is one of the pen names of a former supersonic spy jet pilot, intelligence agent, male model, movie actor, and diplomat. A wild youth in South East Asia was spent enjoying whatever sexual opportunities came his way, and much of his gay male writing is about recalling incidents from those days and inventing ones he’d perhaps have liked to experience. He now leads a very quiet and ordinary life.Check out our blog and get free stories. Feedback and reviews are always appreciated.

Book preview

Chapter One: A Desert Secret

For most security guards at the King Faisal Air Base at the Tabuk Regional Airport in northwestern Saudi Arabia, near the Jordanian border and near the southern tip of Israel, constant surveillance via the myriad security camera on exteriors and interiors at the base was boring duty. That was not so with Sulaiman al-Zamil, who was quite attentive to what was going on at the base and who shared rather more than he should about what he saw and learned. He had managed to make a profit from doing so, however. Tonight was a gold mine of information for him and would have been highly entertaining and arousing for him if he were bent that way. He wasn’t, but what he was watching was still a gold mine of information for him.

At the base that night, here to be shown possible locations for U.S. safe houses near the Jordanian border, were two U.S. military officers—a forty-year-old colonel, Oliver Everhardt, and his twenty-four-year-old aide, Lieutenant David Dennison. The two were being housed in officers’ guest quarters at the base, and Saudis being Saudis and never ones to overlook an intelligence opportunity, the guest quarters were outfitted with surveillance cameras that were monitored in the office Al-Zamil was now manning.

There were three bedrooms in the guest house. Only one was occupied now, though. What Al-Zamil was observing were the fat buttocks of the hefty colonel tightening and releasing as the shapely legs of the lieutenant were raised and spread around them. The colonel was crouching over the lieutenant, standing between the junior officer’s thighs, and fucking him in the missionary position. Al-Zamil’s view was from the colonel’s rear.

Both disgusting and interesting, Al-Zamil thought, as he concentrated on the camera providing this view of the guest house bedroom. There surely was something he could make use of with this information. He flipped on the camera’s recording function. What should he write down on his report form, though? What should the Saudis know about this? Who should he show the recording to? Perhaps there was even more use Al-Zamil could get out of this to enhance his own standing and fatten his money belt. The hand holding the pen hovered over the report form and then was pulled back. He didn’t have to make a decision on that now. That could wait. He would be here for a while and a cup of coffee now would make watching this perversion easier.

He left his post to get his coffee. When he came back, he barely had time to turn the monitor in the officers’ quarters bedroom off before the night supervisor, Khaled Olayan, came into the room.

The Americans are being taken on an inspection tour tomorrow, Sulaiman, he said. You will go with them as a bodyguard.

Al-Zamil grunted his acknowledgment of this; it wasn’t something that required his agreement. He said nothing else, though, wanting Olayan, who could waste a lot of time in small talk, to move on, which he did. Al-Zamil turned the monitor showing the recorded guest house action back on. The colonel was on his back on the bed and what was seen now was the muscular, well-cut back of the lieutenant, naked, straddling the colonel’s pelvis and, presumably, riding the colonel’s cock in an undulating motion such as a camel loping across the sand dunes.

As Al-Zamil watched, the younger man went into a frenzy of motion, tensed and jerked, tensed and jerked, and then crumpled backward between the colonel’s thighs. The older officer sat up, leaned over the now-prone body of the lieutenant, dipped his face to the younger man’s chest, and taking one of the lieutenant’s nipples in his mouth, gave suck. His hands grasped the lieutenant’s slim hips, and he continued his march to an ejaculation by pulling the young man’s channel on and off his cock. Based on the lieutenant’s reaction, Al-Zamil had to either give the colonel accolades for the power of his cock or the lieutenant an award for his acting.

By the time the colonel released his seed and the lieutenant rolled off the bed and disappeared from the screen, Al-Zamil had made up his mind. He would write nothing about this on the report form and he would pull the recording for his own use. Instead, he pushed away from the console in both disgust and excitement and left the building, walking a good bit into the darkness before pulling out a cell phone he should not have had and making a call he should not make.

* * * *

The first of the possible safe house locations the Saudi major from the King Faisal Air Base wanted to show the American officers was in the northern outskirts of Al Bi’r, the largest town between Tabuk and the Jordanian border to the north. To the west of the road to Al Bi’r, beyond a low north-south ridgeline, was the northern end of the Red Sea. The convoy consisted of two Toyota sedans. A driver and guard were in the front seat of the lead sedan, with the American colonel, Oliver Everhardt, and the Saudi major in the backseat. The second car had a driver and guard in the front seat and the American lieutenant, David Dennison, and a Saudi captain in the back.

Half way between Tabuk and Al Bi’r, popping sounds were heard and the lead car slewed off the side of the road and into the sand of a depression. The guard in the first car, Sulaiman al-Zamil jumped out of