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How to Avoid being Blown
by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com)

***

Her brief was thorough, her job minimal. All she was 
supposed to do was get inside and give Shelby Taylor a 
face. She was to hold hands with Leo, complain about 
her boss and her job at his little accounting firm, 
and ask when Leo was going to get out of jail. It was 
a simple performance, pure fluff, but Agent Stanton 
decided at that moment to ad lib a bit.  (MF, nc, 
oral, strip-search)

***

"Strip!" barked the guard. 

"All right! I heard you the first time," Heather 
Stanton replied. As an FBI agent, Stanton made 
countless trips to prisons around the United States, 
but she was accustomed to more preferential treatment 
under the aegis of her gold badge. Today she signed 
into the prison visitors' area as Shelby Taylor, and 
she had a role to play. 

Stanton normally wore business suits and subtle 
cosmetics. In the guise of Shelby Taylor, she wore 
platform shoes, bell bottom dungarees, a baby doll t-
shirt, bright lipstick, heavy dark liner around her 
blue eyes, and reddish-brown fingernail polish, a 
color named "Morrocco" that deserved a less exotic 
label like "Mud". Shelby Taylor would have been the 
finest example of trailer trash womanhood imaginable, 
if not for the corrections officer in the room with 
her. 

The CO's dark hair was combed down flat against her 
head. A severe part ran down the middle exposing a 
strip of her white scalp like the center line of a 
divided highway. Her jowls sagged, but looked almost 
high and firm compared to her double chin. She had the 
body of someone who had super-sized her McDonald's 
lunch a hundred times in the past year, and a vacant 
look in her eyes that indicated despite her 
familiarity with the Big Mac, she still had no idea 
what the sum of $3.79 and 39 cents was. The strip of 
bakelite pinned to her uniform had the name "Drury" 
etched into it. 

Stanton made a mental note of Drury's name, and 
started to take off her shoes. She looked away from CO 
Drury as she unlaced and kicked off the platforms, and 
then wiggled out of her blue jeans. Drury glanced at 
Stanton's legs, and her eyes narrowed. Normally Drury 
liked to rush this along and make things as unpleasant 
as possible on visitors, as she had when she called 
this one out of line and into the room for a spot 
search, yelling orders in a clipped voice. Now, 
though, she thought it might be nice to slow this 
sweet thing down, get her to take her time getting 
naked. 

"Wait a second," Drury said. She pointed to a shiny 
band around Stanton's ankle. "What's that?" 

"Ankle bracelet," Stanton replied. 

"I know that, missy!" Drury snapped. "What's hangin' 
from it? Some kinda contraband?" There was no 'r' or 
'd' in the way Drury pronounced the word, and somehow 
an extra syllable slipped in. It sounded like 
'conchabayin'. 

Stanton mimicked the pronunciation. "It's not 
'conchabayin'. It's just a charm." 

"Let me see it," Drury said, licking her lips. "Put 
your foot up on that chair there." 

As Stanton obeyed, Drury moved closer, took hold of 
Stanton's ankle with one pudgy hand, and examined the 
heart-shaped charm. Her face stood inches away from 
Stanton's bare knee. Drury looked up from the cheap 
piece of jewelry. White cotton panties covered 
Stanton's crotch, and Drury looked them over far 
longer than she had examined the charm. She knew she 
was going to see it all soon enough, and the sight of 
the flimsy underwear and the contours of the mound 
underneath only increased her anticipation. 

"I guess that's okay," Drury relented, not bothering 
to look back at the anklet. 

A cold shiver went through Stanton's body. She took 
her leg off the chair and pulled her shirt over her 
head. The dark hair that hung in her face obscured her 
vision, and Stanton was glad that she didn't have to 
see Drury's reaction. She stood still. 

"What's your name again, missy?" 

"Shelby Taylor," Stanton answered. Who the hell came 
up with that name?, Stanton wondered. But she was 
relieved to concentrate on her figurative cover rather 
than her uncovered figure. 

"And where'r you from, Shelby?" 

"Springfield," Stanton answered. 

"Well, Shelby, I don't know what they teach you in 
Springfield, but when I say 'Strip', I mean it down to 
the bone. Now keep on goin'." 

Stanton quickly unhooked her bra and rolled her 
panties off her legs. The skin itched where the 
underwire of her bra had pressed against the soft 
flesh of her breasts, but she didn't want to draw any 
more attention to herself by scratching them. The 
irritation simply added to her discomfort. "Sit down." 
Drury said tonelessly. 

Thankful that the seat was wooden and not metal, 
Stanton sat down. It was still cold, however, and heat 
seemed to rush out of her body through her back and 
backside. Drury watched as Stanton's nipples hardened 
in a purely involuntary response. Drury approached the 
chair and took Stanton's head in her hands. 

Carefully the CO ran her heavy hands through Stanton's 
long dark hair. She pulled out a hairpin and continued 
the search, looking down at the brunette's bare 
shoulders, her breasts, and the nipples that stood out 
proudly. Drury wanted to stop for a moment and feel 
the hard curve of her shoulders, and the soft curve of 
her breasts. 

"Stand up," Drury ordered. "Grab the table." 

Clenching her teeth with anger, Stanton followed the 
CO's instructions. 

She bent slightly at the waist and rested her weight 
against the edge of the table. Staring at a chip in 
the paint on the wall, Stanton braced herself for the 
body cavity search. Momentarily, she was jarred from 
her quiet resolve by the snap of latex gloves being 
put on behind her. Wrapped in latex, Drury's plump 
fingers looked like small sausages. 

She squeezed a dollop of lubricating jelly on to her 
right hand and smeared it around her fingers. She took 
a moment to admire the smooth firm haunches in front 
of her, the muscular back and the furrow that reached 
to her waist and ended at the tailbone, flanked on 
either side by a little dimple. Drury could just see a 
tuft of dark hair at the juncture between her legs. 

"Spread 'em," Drury ordered unceremoniously. Stanton 
moved her feet apart as far as she could and held her 
breath. She felt the cool, slippery gloved hand 
between her legs, spreading, stretching, poking. 
Despite the lube, some of Stanton's pubic hairs were 
caught in the glove. She winced once, slightly. 

"If you shaved that it wouldn't hurt," Drury said 
knowingly. In one rough thrust there were two fingers 
inside her, probing the smooth walls of her sex. 
Stanton allowed herself to exhale when Drury removed 
them, seemingly hours later. 

"Bend over more," Drury commanded. Again Stanton 
complied. Drury spread some jelly around the winking 
hole of Stanton's ass and then worked a gloved finger 
inside. She used her middle finger, and placed the 
butt of her palm against one of the smooth strong 
cheeks of Stanton's ass. Awkward as that was, it left 
Drury an open view of the woman's pussy flushed red 
and wet with lube. 

Drury pushed in until her knuckles rested along the 
crack of Stanton's ass. She heard the naked woman gasp 
for air. The CO smiled and took her time removing her 
chubby finger. Drury stepped back and took a moment to 
admire the fine form in front of her before ripping 
her gloves off. 

"OK, get dressed," Drury said. Then she mumbled to 
herself, "Did that little girl a favor. Now her con 
boyfriend can take her any way he wants her." 

Stanton rushed back into her clothes. She avoided 
looking at Drury and followed her out of the room. 
Outside the door stood a tall male CO with a toothpick 
jutting from between his lips. He wore sunglasses, 
tinted dark brown, but tilted his head up and down to 
let her know he was looking her over. He shifted the 
toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other and 
smiled. 

"Oh, Jesus," Stanton thought, "He saw that, didn't he? 
Through a window? Maybe even a camera. They probably 
have that on tape. They'll be taking bribes from 
convicts to show it on television." That kind of 
corruption was the reason she was there. The Bureau 
had an agent inside the prison to investigate 
allegations from former inmates. The undercover 
operation was running smoothly until one inmate made a 
big stink one night. He had noticed that although the 
agent wrote and received plenty of letters, he never 
had a visitor. Enter Shelby Taylor, as portrayed by 
Special Agent Stanton. 

The tall CO stepped out of Stanton's way when the 
magnetic lock released. A loud buzz sounded, a green 
light flashed, and the barred door to the visitors' 
area slid open. Stanton was one of the last in, having 
been delayed by the strip search. Drury hadn't offered 
her anything to clean herself with, and as she walked 
through the tables, she felt the lube squish between 
her legs. Almost as cloying, she felt the eyes of 
guards and prisoners on her as she looked for the 
agent. 

Stanton was given his assumed name, Leo Calderone. 
Without knowing his real name, it was impossible to 
slip up. She had seen his picture, and he had the dark 
Latin features to match his surname. Stanton scanned 
the room, looking for him. She spotted one inmate with 
a woman's head bobbing up and down between his legs, 
and another with a blonde straddling his lap, a short 
skirt hiding their copulation from view. What a 
welcome, Stanton thought. She spotted Leo. "Leo, 
honey!" 

"Oh, Shelby, you look good, baby!" 

The two embraced. Stanton closed her eyes as they 
kissed, and felt his hands reach for her ass and give 
her a playful slap. Had to play the part. At least 
Calderone was easier on the eyes than Drury. 

Her brief was thorough, her job minimal. All she was 
supposed to do was get inside and give Shelby Taylor a 
face. She was to hold hands with Leo, complain about 
her boss and her job at his little accounting firm, 
and ask when Leo was going to get out of jail. It was 
a simple performance, pure fluff, but Stanton decided 
at that moment to ad lib a bit. She started to cry. 
Agent Stanton buried her head in Leo's chest and 
sobbed, heaving her chest as if she'd lost control 
over her ability to breathe properly. 

"Hey, hey, Shelby, what's wrong?" 

"Oh, Leo," she said between sobs, "When are you 
getting out of here?" 

"Soon, baby, soon," he answered, wrapping his arms 
around her shoulders and holding her tight. Stanton 
returned the embrace, and buried her head in his chest 
for a moment. When she looked up again, she saw a 
guard walking by escorting a prisoner through the 
visitors' area. It was time. 

"Oh, Leo, I don't think I can do this again, baby. I 
can't come back here again!" 

"Shelby, don't get upset," he said. "I'll be out soon. 
You don't have to come again." 

That was all Stanton needed to hear. She hoped the 
guard and the inmate also heard the exchange. Shelby 
had a face, and now a damn good reason not to have to 
show it at this prison again. Stanton was satisfied 
with her performance, glad that she was through being 
humiliated, and looking forward to coasting through 
the rest of the visit. The pair of agents quickly 
moved through the litany of Shelby's frustrations at 
work. Stanton rattled off her complaints and Calderone 
dutifully nodded his head and sympathized. Calderone 
mentioned possible dates of release, and it was 
Stanton's turn to nod in ascension. After that she 
figured it was high time to leave the place behind. It 
was at that moment that she saw Curly Williams. 

The nightmare of any agent working undercover is to be 
recognized for what they really are, to be 'blown' as 
the saying goes. As a Special Agent, Heather Stanton 
had investigated and arrested Curly Williams for 
running a prostitution ring out of a set of dry 
cleaners and tailors. The press labeled Curly the 
'while-u-wait' pimp and jokes about 'sew-jobs' filled 
the late night talk show monologues. Having your cover 
blown was no laughing matter, though, even if it was 
the while-u-wait pimp who did it. There was nowhere to 
run. Curly might see her, he might not, but he was 
certainly headed her way. Stanton's mind raced to find 
a means of disguise. She hadn't realized she'd stopped 
speaking in mid-sentence. 

"What's the matter, Shelby?" 

Blown. It was the only word that came to mind. 

"Shelby?" 

Blown. 

Stanton snapped back to her surroundings. Wondering 
where Curly was, she took a quick look around. To the 
left was a woman resting on a prisoner's lap. They 
must have finished. She wondered if the other one was 
done giving head to her... 

"C'mon, Shelby," Leo pleaded, "What is it?" 

No sooner had he finished asking the question than 
Stanton's head was buried in his lap, and her fingers 
were working the button fly of his prison coveralls. 
The undercover agent was so surprised when she took 
hold of his floppy dick that it actually shrunk back a 
bit. "What the...?" 

The man gasped when Stanton took his limp organ in her 
mouth and swirled her tongue around its soft crown. 
Whatever surprise and nervousness he felt dwindled 
rapidly, and in equal measure his cock swelled in 
size. "Oh, fuck!" he stammered. This was the first 
time he'd ever met the brunette agent and her pretty 
blue eyes; now she was kneeling between his legs and 
sucking on his prick as if a snake had bit him and she 
needed to extract the venom. 

"Damn, Shelby," he said in utter amazement. This agent 
sure as hell knew how to get into the act. Quite a 
finale considering a few minutes ago she was signaling 
that under no circumstances was she making a repeat 
performance. His cock had stiffened and lengthened, 
but she continued to work over its full length, with 
her hands resting on his thighs, and her dark hair 
falling near his navel. 

Who was this woman? He wanted to get another look at 
her. As he tried to brush her hair out of the way, one 
of her hands leapt off his lap and slapped him sharply 
on the wrist. For the first time since she'd suddenly 
dropped to her knees, Stanton released her mouth from 
his shaft. "Leave the hair alone," she said quickly, 
before going back to work. 

"Whatever you say, baby." He was as confused as when 
she started, but aroused enough not to care anymore. 
Rock hard, his cock pulsed in her mouth. Stanton 
thought Curly had to have passed by now. She pulled 
off again, taking the wet sticky shaft in her hand. 
"Can you see Curly?" 

"Curly?" he said in surprise. It just so happened the 
man was walking by at the time. 

"Yeah, what you want, man?" Curly asked loudly. 

Stanton's heart leaped into her throat. It was a good 
thing that she no longer had a cock there; the 
collision could have been rough. She had to get rid of 
Curly. She squeezed Leo's cock. "Ahhh," he exclaimed. 
"Nothing, man. I'm busy." 

"Shit, I can see that. Izzat yo woman?" 

"Yeah," Leo answered. 

"Well, when she's done there, send her my way." 

"Fuck you, Curly." 

Curly laughed and walked away. "See ya back at the 
yard, man." 

Now Leo could guess why the agent had buried her face 
in his lap. That was a pretty smart move. He was about 
to tell her that the coast was clear when he 
remembered that he was sporting a monster hard-on, 
there was a blue-eyed girl with her head between his 
legs, and he was in prison, undercover or not. "Keep 
going," he whispered. "Curly's a few feet behind you." 

She worked slowly and methodically. Leo helped by 
guiding her head with his hand, but he was careful to 
let her hair cover her face. Her mouth was warm and 
wet sliding along his rigid prick. "Keep going," he 
said. "That's so good." 

Stanton heard the last bit of what he said, and it was 
her turn to realize what was going on. But she was a 
bit too late. Leo erupted in orgasm and two months of 
frustration burst from his balls and into the roof of 
her mouth. If she pulled off at that point, she risked 
a shot in her face or hair, so Stanton let him blast 
away. Two, three, four warm streams filled her cheeks. 
When the spasms stopped, Stanton opened her mouth. The 
goo trickled along his shaft and down onto his balls 
in his coveralls. Most of it, anyway. She wanted to 
smack him, but instead she kept to their cover. She 
actually smiled. 

"You're the best, Shelby." he said, and meant it. 

"I can't wait until I get you outside this prison," 
she replied.

She meant it, too. 

Stanton let him peck her on the cheek, and then she 
turned to leave. Naturally, Curly was nowhere to be 
seen. As she walked, she felt the lube again between 
her legs. She wanted a shower. She wanted a breath 
mint. She needed to get the hell out of there. What 
she got was a guard stopping her on the way out. 

"That was a helluva show you put on there." Drury said 
to her. 

"Fuck off," Stanton replied. 

"Hold on there, bitch," the guard said, catching her 
by the arm. 

Instinctively, Stanton thought of flipping the CO over 
her hip. Instead she stopped and stayed in character. 
Drury went on talking. "We have rules here, and that 
little indecent act is against 'em." Stanton met her 
with a blank stare. "The fine is fifty bucks," she 
said. 

A bribe, Stanton thought. On top of all that, she 
expects a bribe. Stanton pulled three twenties from 
her jeans and thrust them at the CO. "Happy now?" 

"Not really. But now that you know the rules I guess 
you can go." 

Not really happy, Stanton thought. She wasn't the only 
one. She made her way back to the beat-up CRX the 
bureau procured for Shelby Taylor and headed back to 
the field office. During the debriefing, she simply 
mentioned a 'distraction' that she arranged with Leo 
when she saw Curly. She filled out the bureau's 
copious forms, and a local field agent gave her a lift 
to her hotel. After a long hot shower, she met her 
partner Maytag at the hotel bar. 

"How did it go?" he asked. 

"I don't want to talk about it." Stanton took a long 
swallow from her gin and tonic, then looked over at 
her partner. "Hey," she said. "What happened to that 
orange tie you had on this morning?" 

"I don't want to talk about it," Maytag answered. It 
was a story for another time. They finished their 
drinks in silence. 

END 

Author Note: I hope you enjoyed that, and I'd love to 
hear your comments. There is an anonymous e-mail form 
(and more stories) at http://www.jimmy-hat.com , or 
you can mail me: directly at jimmy@jimmy-hat.com

Anyone wishing to charge fees for access to this 
material, through any media or publication, must 
receive the written permission of Jimmy Hat.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any
of the scenarios in this story should seriously 
consider seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 79