Mission Accomplished

In the shadowed glow of a single desk lamp, Agent Steve Hammond flipped open the dossier, his eyes scanning the glossy photos of chiseled operatives—each a specimen of raw, masculine allure. The candidates' true qualifications hung heavy in the frame: big, thick pricks, veined and imposing, promising unyielding precision. Hammond leaned back, a sly smile curling his lips. Picking the best man for the job? Pure relish, like savoring a forbidden vintage. His gaze lingered on Dcota's shot. That thick, long dick, a coiled serpent ready to strike—perfect for the target. Lee Jennings, the rugged mechanic who'd gotten some creep canned for cornering him with unwanted hands at the garage. Time to even the score. Hammond summoned Dcota to the briefing room, voice low and commanding. 'Your mission,' he said, sliding the file across the table, 'is to fuck him down and dirty till he squeals. Make it count.'