Q with no gadgets

James Bond's boss, M - Bernard Lee in any Bond film that really counts, and Judi Dench since Lee's death - regularly sends 007 to see Q before Bond sets out on another, dangerous mission. Though someone else played Q in Dr No, and though John Cleese has taken a stab at the role recently, there is really only one Q: Desmond Llewelyn. Somewhat ironically, given Q's penchant for issuing deadly vehicles of one sort or another to Bond, Llewelyn died in a car-crash.


By Goldfinger, Q had arrived at his mature form: the tetchy, long-suffering quartermaster fed up with seeing his amazing inventions reduced to wreckage by the irrepressible Bond, and who thinks he may prevent this by a combination of tedious over-instruction and chits signed in triplicate. I am told that Q was later coerced into other, action-driven roles, but if that happened it must have been in movies that I have not seen, with Bonds that I do not care to think about.

Q's gadgets were not in evidence when she visited me at home, for the second time in a week. We fucked, I went down on her, we fucked some more, she went down on me, we fucked some more again. All the stuff that can be done with no more equipment than two bodies and a bed. I came when Q, riding my cock with utter abandon, took herself into a drenching orgasm, and in the middle of that downpour, I made my own modest contribution to the general damp. That I came when she did is unsurprising; she comes so often that simultaneous orgasm is probable on mere statistical grounds. The clutching and clenching of her cunt on my cock ensures that I am completely taken up into her orgasms, and after staying with her through a number of these climaxes, enjoying them in spectator mode, it was wonderful to join in.

Fucking Q through her orgasms, it is sometimes hard to stay in place. I have never fucked a woman whose cunt seemed so obviously designed to function expulsively. I know that she has given birth to several children, and feeling her bear down on my cock, I am made aware of sex as procreative as well as recreative. Q is a woman good for fucking and making babies, and a lot of her sexual power resides in that. She is not a woman good only for fucking and making babies, however. So we also had a very good time talking - a lot of it talk about fucking, not much of it about making babies.

Since that day, we have met only once, for a couple of hours at La Semana, in one of the most dismal rooms I have been in there. But the surroundings disappear with Q when they have no role to play, and we went at each other almost continuously. I was very pleased that meeting came off, as my schedule has been cramped by work. And now, the holidays, which means home and family, no alibis, and so not much scope for lying, cheating and adultery. I hope, nevertheless, to have a new letter of the alphabet to introduce to the blog very soon.