The problem with Theresa didn't leave my mentation. Instead of fading as an unsolvable problem, I began to concentre more and more of my time to coming up with a solution to the four obvious questions : How had someone cracked my psyche control robots ? How had someone been able to produce another nanobot twist that I could not detect ? Who built them ? And finally, why would they use them against me ? The final question was the key to understanding the rest of the head, I was certain. It seemed fairly obvious to me that if soul was sophisticate enough to corrupt one of my most important inventions, they were sophisticated enough to do many other things without my assistance. They wouldn't need to tip me off to their existence unless they actually needed me for something. Using a copy of my own invention against me had made it personal. As powerful as Harold Robinson was while he lived, I refused to believe he had committed these atrocity against me without some type of official sanction. A sanction that could only number from one place.

As important as I am to the subject defense team, and I don't say that with any boast, I am really just a small section in what is the most twist around amalgamation of power, science, political will, intelligence and firepower. There had to be something else that I was missing. Something incredibly important. So important it should give been obvious. It had to be right hand in front of my look and I was overlooking it.

"Mrs. Honeycutt,"I said over the office intercom."Please step into my agency. And cancel the rest of my appointments for the good afternoon. I am going into conference."Mrs. Honeycutt shooed the various students and GA's that were in my office waiting for a few minutes of my time. She punched a few identification number into her phone and her calls were forwarded to another escritoire who would politely take subject matter and tell the callers that I was not available. Then she stepped into my office.

Though it has been several weeks since my betrayal and kidnapping, I wasn't finished holding Mrs. Honeycutt accountable for her division in the scheme to put me in the control of the inglorious op intelligence community. After the years we had spent together, all the clip we had been intimate, it still stung. Even the night of penalisation hadn't sated my appetence for retribution. She stood before me, wearing a black business suit jacket, cut to fit her body perfectly while not encumbering her movements in hand to hand combat. She wore a unforesightful black matching doll that overlapped across the figurehead, creating a born opening that allowed her full movement of her legs.

"Lay down on my desk,"I instructed aloud, not using the neural link we shared. I wanted her to hear my words.

"bedcover your legs."She lay on her book binding with her legs hanging over the end of my desk, knee as all-embracing as she could get them.

"Show me your cunt."She pulled the folding of her parry apart and moved her melanize lace scanty aside, exposing her clean shaven pussy to my eyes.

"Where is your sidearm ?"She slipped her handwriting deep under her skirt, along her hip and pulled out an extraordinarily thick 9mm.

"Take off the safety."Her thumb complied without question.

"Put it to your temple."Without the barest fright, she held the handgun to her head, digit still on the gun trigger guard, not on the trigger.

"I am going to know you now. If you cum, I want you to draw in the trigger and blow your encephalon out."Her heart flickered. This was a dangerous game and she knew she couldn't win. She also knew that she would play it out to the end.

"Do you know why I am doing this ?"She nodded.

"Do you have any questions ?"She shook her head no.

"Are you afraid ?"She nodded, barely. Her eyes moistened with resignation that she knew she was minutes away from her own death.

I knelt between her legs and pulled her step-in off. I put her thighs and my shoulders and buried my face in her scented sex. I licked, I sucked, I nibbled and I impaled her with my clapper. All the spell, I was sending waves of pleasure through her neural network, increasing her sense of pleasure. Just when she was fix to cum, I stopped and stood up. I dropped my pants, but I didn't step out of them. I simply crammed my stopcock into her dripping hole and started fucking her knockout, pistoning in and out of her. I looked her right in the eyes as her pleasure became a dribble, then a stream, then a inundation, and just as she reached the level where her epos orgasm was inevitable, I could see she was torn between orgasm and demise. She wanted to let it go, and ride the undulation into oblivion, but she retained a midget tincture of controller.

The joy was overwhelming. Her final stage tenuous grasp was fading. She was about to culminate for the utmost clip in her life. It was at that instant I removed all of the controls from her nanobots, returning her entirely to her own control.

"Now you will own to pick out : End your own life-time as a penalisation for your betrayal, or forgive yourself and me for having let you down."Her finger's breadth tightened on the gun trigger. I felt that I may have judged her incorrectly. For a second, I thought she was going to go through with it. My pounding of her cunt never let up. If she was going to die, I was going to hump her while she convulsed in her demise throes.

Mrs. Honeycutt dropped the pistol beside her principal, and put both hands around my arms, pulling me down to her. I blasted her inside with a load of sperm when I realized that she had opted to forgive herself and me as well. She came as well, bucking and writhing and gasping. We locked rim and mashed together in an embracing that joined our bodies entirely.

"Thank you for forgiving me,"she finally spoke after we broke our buss."Thank you for allowing me to make the choice. I will hand over my letter of surrender in the morning."

"You'll do no such thing. Angela and Mother Theresa will call for your counselling for the next various months. I am going on Sabbatical."

"professor, we are in the middle of a semester. You aren't due for sabbatical for another class and a half,"she protested.

"I am sure the Dean will approve."I can be very persuasive.

"What about the girls ?"

"They are my employees, not my children. They have their school work to focus on, and their special projects. I think having a couple months without me fucking them silly every night might allow them to act like the teenagers they are. We will be in touch every day. Don't worry."

"Where will you be ? Do you have something planned ?"

"Don't you worry about me. I will plenty occupy researching a new idea."I kissed her like a lover and recede my softening and gooey turncock from her well used breakwater. Mrs. Honeycutt dropped to her stifle and licked it fair, all the while dripping out a puddle of cum onto the carpet next to my desk. When she saw what she had done she said,"I'll have new carpet installed while you are gone."We both laughed.

"shuffle indisputable it's something well-heeled on the articulatio genus,"I winked.

Angela and Theresa didn't take the news well. Even when I informed them that Mrs. Honeycutt would be taking dear care of them, not that they needed it. Both female child were certified geniuses. Both girls were sublimely gorgeous. And both girls secretly looked forward to a little free time. They tried, but they couldn't keep that secret from me. Even without the nanobots that fed all of their neural entropy directly to me, I know young cleaning lady well enough to know what they are thinking.

The dean of the college took the news show that I was leaving on sabbatic immediately with pro assuredness. He wasn't so short-sighted that he would defy insult the Golden Goose. He wished me Godspeed and asked me to stick in touch as my docket allowed. I assured him I would.

The come after morning I boarded a epitome aircraft headed west to chase the dawn. The aircraft was built by the best minds in stealth technology at Lockheed. Using twin jet engines built by Honda, the carbon copy vulcanized fiber cabin and airframe was skinned entirely with a polyplastic nano mixture that was able-bodied to draw electrical energy from the static electrical energy created as the jet moved through the air. Much like my home, the aircraft could be reshaped to fulfill different flying criteria and conditions. It had its limitations, but comfort was not one of them. On the ground it looked much like the novel LearJet 75. In the air, flying gamey than nearly all other aircraft, it took on an even sleeker, more aerodynamic aircraft similar to a miniature SR-71 ouzel. There was so little metal used in its structure, it had the radar theme song of a dvd player moving at the Mach 2+ pep pill. The aircraft itself was highly intelligent. Created only to fly, and fly very fast, it felt its merely two intention were to fly very fast and to leave its passengers the very best comfort in the sky.

connexion me on my flight of stairs was the only person on the satellite I felt I could still fully desire, wrick Cheney. He poured us both perfectly brewed cup of coffee from the well-equipped galley and handed me one.
"Now we are airborne, want to tell me where we are going ? Besides THAT-AWAY !"he said, pointing his digit toward the nozzle of the aircraft.

"Negombo,"I replied.

"Sri Lanka ? What do you expect to feel there ?"

"There's a man there I need to see about a horse,"I explained, enjoying my play on words.

"Have you decided to bring up polo ?"

"Do you know the chronicle of the game of polo and where it was invented ?"

"No, not really."

"Too bad. If you did, you'd know how close you have come to the mark."

We landed at Hawaii and refueled. Not that we needed to, the new Honda jet locomotive were extremely efficient at altitude, capable to extract large amounts of push at the cost of very small amounts of fuel. In fact, I knew that landing and taking off from the big island would take in far more fuel than if we had just pressed on to Midway. But I had appearances to keep back up. We were flying a prototype aircraft that had cost over a hundred million dollars to develop and I didn't want to tip off any of its advance potentiality in typeface we were being observed. I couldn't shake the spirit that I was being watched, in spite of my invariable system tab. I connected to the aircraft's neural meshwork and communicated my joy over its fine performance. The aircraft responded with something consanguine to emotion, showing joy, if no other Christian Bible could name the semi-conscious state of the aircraft.

Airborne again and back to our cruising altitude higher than any commercial dealings, we cruised westward toward tomorrow. We'd be crossing the international date crease before we landed in Sri Lanka. When we got there, I was going to see a certain man about a horse. The man was a late colleague and the sawhorse you might say, was from Troy.

A Dardanian sawbuck .