Date: Thu, 12 Apr 2007 09:21:47 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jacksantoro1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Arrest Record, Part 12, Adult Friends, 12/?

Arrest Record, Part 12
By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com

	We got up the following morning and went out for
breakfast early, as George had to board his executive
jet for a 9 A.M. departure back to San Diego. Then we
gathered in Amir's room to plan our day. We decided
that, as Amir's next contact, in the Chicago area, was
not until the day after the next, we had time to alter
our plan slightly.
	Ted and Paul would lead in their car, staying a
couple of miles ahead of Amir, to watch for fixed
surveillance along the route. We didn't really expect
any, but it was a good exercise. Amir would be next,
followed by Spicer and Adams in their car, and Harold,
George, and I would bring up the rear several miles
back, watching for a tail and prepared to take the
place of anyone who needed a break.
	We set out on I-80, quickly crossing the bridge into
Council Bluffs, Iowa, and settling down to the
uneventful drive. After a couple of hours Ted called
us on the radio and asked if we'd like to switch
places, to give Harold some first-hand experience at
spotting surveillance. Within a few minutes we'd
passed the others and were in the lead.
	"Have you been eyeballing the cars we passed?" Ed
asked Harold. Ed was driving and Harold was next to
him. I was in the back.
	"Yes, but I didn't recognize any from before, and
nothing seemed suspicious," Harold replied.
	"Same here," I added. I'd been watching the road and
other vehicles as well.
	"We can pretty well discount trucks," Ed said.
"Surveillance and shadowing aren't practical with an
18-wheeler."
	"Panel trucks and pick-ups are improbable," I said.
"Still, one might use one of those for surveillance,
but more likely in a built-up area."
	"I think we can rule out people over 40 or 50 as
well, can't we?" asked Harold. "The people we're
dealing with are our age or younger."
	"That's right," Ed replied. "Terrorists on the
cutting edge tend to be young. The leaders are older
men, but they don't get involved in the cutting edge."
	"Can we rule out women too? Remember what the Iranian
President said a few days ago about western countries
sending women to fight."
	"Yes and no," I answered Harold. "In principle, they
see women as belonging at home, doing the cooking and
raising the children. However, remember there were a
couple of women suicide bombers in the Middle East a
year or two ago. You can't totally rule out women as
operatives, although they're far fewer than the men."
	"Now also keep an eye out for anyone at the side of
the road or on an overpass, watching the traffic,
especially if they're using binoculars," Ed added. The
three of us scrutinized the road and nearby areas, but
nothing seemed to stand out.
	Interstate 80 passes just south of Chicago, and right
off one of the exits was the hotel Amir was supposed
to stay to wait for his contact. Amir checked in, and
Ted and Paul accompanied him to his room to set up the
telephone tap before going to their room down the
hall. Adams and Spicer took the duty of staying with
Amir because Ted and Paul had been unnerved by the
previous day's incident with the hotel manager. Ed,
Harold, and I took the room next to Amir's and settled
in to wait.
	"We've got a day's slack time, but we can't count on
that," I explained to Harold while we waited for room
service. We were going to follow our usual routine of
having meals delivered to our room and we'd walk them
over to Amir's room as soon as the hallway was clear.
	"See, sometimes it gets tricky," Ed followed up on my
comment. "Some operatives play little games for
additional security. They told Amir to check in at
this hotel on this date, but that he would not be
contacted until the day after tomorrow. They just
might contact him tomorrow, or even tonight if they're
suspicious we have Amir under surveillance or maybe
just as an extra security precaution. That's why we
have to remain alert." At this moment there was a
knock at the door and I answered it. I took the tray
from the waiter and then walked it down the hall to
Amir's room. Then Ed, Harold, and I went out to
dinner, taking our portable radios with us in case
anything happened. On returning we undressed.
	"How does your tip feel?" Ed asked Harold while I
explored the bathroom.
	"I think it's a bit more sensitive," I heard Harold
reply. "The head's smoother because it's always wet
now."
	"That's some progress," I said as I returned to the
bedroom. "I saw that there's a shower spray in there.
Maybe you'd like to try it." We all stripped down
quickly and entered the roomy shower stall.
	"Take off the condom," I suggested to Harold as I
adjusted the water. "I'll show you how this works with
Ed and then we'll try it on you." Ed faced the shower
as I took the head off its mount and adjusted the
water to a pulsing stream. I grasped Ed's still soft
penis and gently pushed the foreskin back to expose
the bulbous helmet. I directed the stream to hit the
front dome of Ed's glans and the response was
immediate. He sighed as his prick began to swell
quickly, and he grasped my swelling prick with an
overhand grip.
	"Get behind him and hold him," I said to Harold.
"When he comes his knees turn to rubber." Harold
stepped behind Ed, wrapped his left arm around his
waist and reach around to cup Ed's scrotum with his
right hand. Harold's prick pressed against Ed's back
as he looked over Ed's shoulder to watch the action.
The water was very hot, and this helped bring the
blood to Ed's glans, which was rapidly becoming
darker.
	"Harold, this is really irresistible," Ed muttered to
let Harold know what to expect when his turn came. I
kept Ed's foreskin pushed back tightly to expose his
helmet right down to the groove.
	"It's like a vibrator," I added. "The hot water hits
the nerve endings on the surface and the pulsing jet
reaches down under the skin and works on the
deep-seated ones. Ed's got only a few seconds left."
Ed was writhing as the sensations bit into his helmet,
and now I shifted the spray head so that the jet
probed into the triangular groove under the glans,
massaging his taut frenulum with its heat. The edge of
the stream touched the lips of his slit, spreading
them and probing the sensitive tissues deep inside.
	"I'm close, so close," Ed moaned as I saw him stand
on tip-toe, his body tensing with excitement. His
turgid tip was very dark now, and his jaw clenched. I
shifted the spray slightly to play over the rounded
front dome of his glans, and then underneath again as
his breathing became ragged.
	"AAAAHHHH!" he cried out as his body jerked and a
thick stream of white liquid shot from his prick onto
my stomach. His knees buckled but Harold was holding
him tightly. I felt the pulse of his orgasm in his
shaft and then he cried out again as the second jet
spurted from his slit to bathe my stomach in heavy
cream. Ed's body was shuddering in the frenzy of his
orgasm and his prick pulsed again as it blew a third
torrent onto my stomach.
	Ed cried out helplessly as I felt hid shaft throb
again, releasing another stream that landed on my
thigh. His grip on my prick tightened, and I felt a
responsive throb deep in the root of my organ. Ed's
straining body shuddered again and his prick spewed
another load that landed on the shower floor between
us. I knew his tip was now too sensitive, so I lowered
the spray and let his orgasm work itself out.
	Ed's knees were still too weak for him to remain
standing, and Harold lowered him gently to the shower
floor. Ed released my prick as he sank into the daze
that follows climax. Harold's prick faced me,
rock-hard from the excitement of having watched and
felt Ed's explosive release, and I gave it a short
burst of the hot spray. It bobbed reflexively and
Harold yelped at the sudden shock of sensation. He was
looking at me expectantly and I said:
	"Somebody's got to hold you or you'll collapse. Let's
wait until Ed recovers. Do you want to go next?"
	"No, I want to watch and feel you come, Jack. It's
such a thrill to hold a hot guy like you or Ed when he
unloads." I kept the spray pointed at the floor as Ed
swam upward out of his daze, returning to full
awareness. Harold helped him stand and I passed him
the spray head. I turned my back to Harold and felt
his arm wrap around my waist as his other hand cupped
my tight sac. Ed grasped my shaft, ensuring that the
skin was pushed all the way back toward the base, so
that my helmet was exposed to the spray from round
front dome to the deep groove behind the rim.
	I sighed as the first spray hit my tip, sending its
messages of joy deep inside it. Ed sprayed my front
dome and I felt one of the tiny pulsing jets stabbing
deep into my pouting orifice, adding another dimension
to the sensations. Filling my prick. I was already
very excited from just having made Ed shoot, and
within seconds my helmet had turned dark purple atop
my straining prick.
	"Ohhhh," I moaned as the sensations built up within
me, and I felt Harold's arm tightening around my
waist. The jet spray hammered at my glans as I
continued to moan in delight, enjoying the powerful
sensations that would soon push me over the brink. My
sac was tight in Harold's fingers, and I felt him
gently kneading it.
	The hot hard head of my prick ached for release, and
I felt my body becoming tense. The jet spray was
causing an unbearable tickling in my helmet, and I
know the sensation would explode in a couple of
seconds. My awareness of the world outside my body
dimmed as my attention became increasingly focused on
my prick. The water hammered the nerve endings and now
I was feeling the delicious hot tingle that
immediately precedes ejaculation. My eyes closed.
	I cried out as I felt the first spasm deep inside and
the hot torrent searing its way up my prick to slam
through the pouting lips of my slit. My knees turned
to jelly and I sagged as the next wave of sensation
hit me, but Harold's strong arm held me up. The hot
wet pulses hammered against my glans, hitting the
front dome and then underneath, strumming my
gee-string, before traveling back to work around my
hard flaring corona. Another contraction deep inside
made me cry out in joyous agony as my prick
disgorged another heavy stream.
	I felt another torrent surge upward through my prick
to the hard, throbbing head before erupting from
between the lips of my pouting meatus. The next load
was just as heavy, but less forceful. My prick-tip was
becoming super-sensitive, but with the water stream it
didn't matter. It was pure heaven, sending shock waves
down my shaft and bringing forth another gush. I felt
Harold gently lowering me to the shower's warm wet
floor as my last spasms wracked my prick right down to
the root. I gasped and grunted, and then relaxed
because the storm was over.
	As I returned to full awareness of my surroundings I
felt Ed milking my prick, forcing out the last drops,
and then pulling my foreskin up over the shrinking
helmet. I heard him speak:
	"Harold, did you see how dark Jack's helmet got as he
was coming? The rim was almost black."
	"Just like yours when you came," Harold replied.
"Anyway, he was struggling when his knees gave out. I
know the feeling." I got to my feet with Harold's
help, and now Ed and I took our positions. Ed embraced
him from behind while I grasped his rigid shaft,
holding it up so that the glans pointed toward my
chest. As he was circumcised I didn't have to pull the
skin back. I held the spray nozzle so that the water
jets poured over the front of his glans and felt an
immediate response as his prick throbbed in my hand.
	"I think this will be quick, Harold. You've watched
us come and you're primed for it." I knew he was. It
always aroused him to watch Ed and me come, and he'd
not only watched, he'd helped. Ed had both arms around
Harold's waist and I knew he'd hold him tightly as he
slipped into orgasm. Harold's balls were drawn up
tightly, and he was staring into my eyes as I sprayed
his big tip with the pulsing hot water.
	"Your helmet's already getting darker," I pointed out
as I swung the spray head around his prick to hit the
area between his rim and circumcision scar. "I think
keeping the head covered already made it more
sensitive." His shaft certainly felt stiffer between
my encircling fingers.
	"Yesss," he whispered, and I knew the sensations were
reaching deep inside him, heightening his excitement.
Now I focused the jet on his corona, working around
its circumference, and then aiming it right at the
bulging front dome of the glans. I saw the jets part
the lips of his long slit, drilling into the orifice,
and heard him moan shrilly in response.
	"Feeling the tingle yet?" I asked him as I kept the
hot jets aimed at his slit. He nodded just before his
prick jerked in my hand, and I saw a thick creamy jet
erupt to spray onto my stomach. Now I sprayed the
broad upper surface of his helmet and felt his shaft
throb again as his tip blew another torrent of semen
onto my body. Harold was grunting loudly as he sagged
in Ed's arms, and I knew he was gripped by the full
fury of his orgasm.
	His purple tip spewed another load, which this time
landed on my thigh, and he grunted again. I sprayed
the front of his glans again, bringing forth another
surge of sperm. A weaker jet followed, and then
another, as I continued pouring hot sensations into
his throbbing prick with the spray. Now only a dribble
seeped from his long slit, quickly washing away under
the pulses of water, and then I turned off the spray
as Ed lowered him to the floor.
	"He really let go a heavy load," I said to Ed. "He
was really struggling in your arms."
	"Sure," Ed confirmed. "After his first load he became
dead weight. Maybe next time we ought to do this
sitting."
	"That's a good idea," I agreed. "These orgasms are so
hot we almost lose consciousness."
	"I think you do, sometimes," Ed riposted. "The way
your eyes always close I think you're passing out."
	"I'm barely conscious sometimes," I admitted. "It
feels like I'm in another world."
	"It's like that for me too," Ed said. "I feel like
I'm floating when my cock's throbbing so hard."
	"It felt like that to me just now," Harold said as he
struggled to regain his feet. Ed grabbed his elbow and
helped him up. I turned on the water again, leaving
the spray head in its wall bracket.
	"I guess it's time to wash the cream off us," I said.
Harold reached down and grasped our foreskin nipples
just as the hot water stimulated my flow. I noticed
that his bare glans was already pouring its yellow
stream onto the shower floor. I felt a pleasant
stretching sensation as my hood expanded with the
pressure of the urine.
	"I just love to play with those skins and watch them
swell," Harold exclaimed. Our hoods were fully swollen
now, and Harold released the pressure to let them
drain, and then pinched them shut again. The flow
rinsed whatever seminal residue we had inside our
urethras and swirled around our helmets, washing them
off as well. Harold released our foreskins and then he
grasped my prick and pushed my hood up off the head,
where it locked behind my corona as my bladder
completed draining itself. He did the same to Ed, and
now all three of us were bare headed, the spray from
the shower rinsing us off.
	Next morning we went through our breakfast routine,
and then gathered in our room to confer.
	"It looks like we have a slack day," Ed pointed out
to the group. "Still, anything can happen. Amir's
contact knows he's here and waiting, and he might push
his schedule forward a day. We can't relax and take
the day off, much as we'd like to."
	"We'll stay alert," Adams said. "As long as we're
watching things, you guys can relax a bit, because
we'll give you ample warning if anything comes down."
	"That sounds good," Ted said. "Maybe the rest of us
can take turns going out to lunch so that there's
always one back-up team nearby."
	"I think that's an excellent idea," Ed said. "Let's
play it that way, then." They dispersed to their rooms
and the rest of the day went by uneventfully. The
following morning we gathered again.
	"This is the day," Ed said. "I've got a funny feeling
something's going to change now. Maybe I'm just being
paranoid but things have been going too smoothly up to
now." This drew a laugh from Ted and Paul, who had
ambushed the hotel manager in Denver several days
before.
	"We'll try not to step on our dicks this time," Paul
said.
	"We'll try even harder," Adams chimed in. "Remember
Spicer and I are the ones baby-sitting Amir."
	"Amir doesn't sound like an Arabic name to me," Paul
said. "It sounds Israeli."
	"That might well be," conceded Ed. "I'm sure it's not
his real name anyway. All these guys take aliases even
before they leave the home country."
	"I'd better get out to the airport and see if any
more intel came to us during the night," said Harold.
He left and the others dispersed to their rooms.
Harold was back and hour later with some news:
	"We broke into their network, I think. One of the
phone calls was to a number in this area, and it just
might be today's contact. Another number was in
Queens, New York, and that's where we're going next.
Anyway, the field office guys are checking them out
and we might get more info later." At that point the
portable radio buzzed. It was Spicer:
	"Amir got his call. Things are different this time.
The contact told him to put the canister in a paper
bag and go downstairs, out the front door, and turn
right and keep walking. Someone will meet him and take
the canister."
	"Shit!" exclaimed Ed. "This is a whole new ball game.
They can watch Amir on the street. They'll easily see
us if we try to follow him. We're screwed." This was
bad news. Not only was Amir to deliver the canister in
what's known as a "brush contact," he'd be open to
surveillance during his walk, which precluded our
following him closely to apprehend whoever his contact
might be. Worse, we had no way of knowing how many
people were to be involved in this contact. One,
certainly, to pick up the canister from him, and an
unknown number of others doing counter-surveillance.
	"Maybe not," I suggested. "So Amir hands over the
canister. I don't think they're going to use it for a
few more days. This looks like they are trying for a
coordinated attack across the country. They're
probably going to wait until all the canisters are
delivered and then set their D-Day. They won't know
that they're holding dummies. Only we know that." I
felt this gave us a margin of safety. It was slim, but
better than nothing.
	"We heard," Ted said as he and Paul charged into our
room. They startled us, and Ed and I were already
reaching under our jackets for our pistols when we
recognized them.
	"Yeah, this is the shits," Harold said. He hadn't
reacted to the sudden intrusion because he was lost in
thought.
	"Try not to be so sudden next time," Ed admonished
them. "We don't want any blue on blue shootings."
	"Does this mean we just let them have the dummy
canister?" Harold asked.
	"I don't see how we can avoid letting them walk away
with it," said Ed. We won't even know who picked it
up, except for whatever description we can get from
Amir."
	"Maybe not," Ted said. "We've got something else up
our sleeve." All of us turned to face him attentively,
eager to hear what he had to say.

Continued in Part 13