Date: Tue, 27 Mar 2007 06:48:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jacksantoro1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Arrest Record, Part 5, Adult Friends, 5/?

Arrest Record, Part 5
By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com

The alarm didn't ring next morning. Murphy had been
hard at work again. Ed was shaking me and Harold,
urging us to get up. As I quickly became awake and
alert, I looked at the clock and realized that there
was no time for a shower and no time for breakfast.
"I think we ought to wear civvies again today," Ed
said as he pulled on slacks and a sport jacket. "We
might have some more plainclothes shadowing to do."
"Look, you two guys head for the office," I said as we
hurriedly dressed. "I'll stop off and get us some
donuts and coffee. That's give you time to start
plowing through the transcripts of our new telephone
taps on that apartment house." We ran out the door, me
heading for the Honda and Ed and Harold for the
Toyota.
I'd remember to bring my electric shaver, and I shaved
as I drove with one hand. At our favorite donut shop
(Hey, cops just LOVE donuts, don't they?) I picked up
a tray with six donuts and six containers of coffee,
and then ran for my car. At the office I set the tray
on Ed's desk and handed my electric shaver to Harold.
"This is so we don't look too scruffy," I told him. "I
already shaved in the car." We all ate a donut as we
perused the volume of transcripts. I sipped at my
coffee. Most of the transcripts were meaningless.
There were guys calling their girlfriends, bosses,
bookies, and women calling their kids, lovers,
hairdressers, etc. In short, I encountered nothing
that would help us identify the tenant we had followed
home yesterday, and I began to wonder if he even lived
there. After all, he might have been visiting a
friend's apartment, and might even have stayed
overnight.
I ate my second donut and leafed through more pages
with no better results. I was feeling downcast. The
day had begun badly and seemed to be getting worse.
"Anybody got anything yet?" I heard Ed ask. I shook my
head.
"All I've got is shopping lists, dates, what's for
supper, when's the party, and stuff like that," Harold
answered. We went back to work and scrutinized our
transcripts for another hour. I was getting sleepy.
"Maybe this might help," I heard Harold say. He was
holding up a sheet of paper that he'd found in his
stack of pages. He handed it to me and I saw that it
was a telephone company list of all the numbers at
that address. "This seems to be their subscriber
record. I didn't know we had a direct connection with
the phone company."
"We regularly tap into their computer," Ed told him.
"The phone company also lets us access their telephone
switching computer, which is how we put taps on all
those lines at once. We don't go out and splices into
a subscriber's line where he lives. Anyone who does
that is an amateur."
"What is the value of this list?" I asked Harold.
"Well, we can get the names, and the dates they signed
up for phone service," he responded. I smiled. Harold
was bright, very bright, and he recognized the value
of information immediately. "We can look to see who
had their service installed recently, say the last
couple of months, and take a closer look at these
people."
"That's right," I said. "We can also confirm that with
the power company and the city water department. We
tap into their computers too."
"Then this can give us a lead as to who's newly
arrived, whatever name he's using."  This was an
allusion to the absence of any Arabic name on the
subscriber list.
"Very good. This helps because you can be sure that
Osama himself wouldn't sign up under his real name if
he were here. The only exception is if a sleeper set
up the apartment as a safe house several years ago.
Personally, I think that's less likely than a recent
arrival, so we'll begin by checking out the recent
subscribers."
"One problem might be that the guy is staying with a
cell-mate or co-conspirator," Ed pointed out. "Then
the connection would be harder to establish. The
tenant of record would probably have an
ordinary-sounding American name."
"Okay, Harold," I began. "There's one approach you can
handle right now." I removed a sheet of paper from my
file. "This is a sales pitch for a telemarketer. Call
every number dated from the past 12 months and pretend
you're selling something. If you hear a voice with an
accent, note it. Also keep in mind that if our target
is using one of the apartments as a safe house, he's
probably there during the day, instead of working at a
job. That's not conclusive, but we have to make the
most of what we've got." Harold put the list in front
of him next to the page I'd handed him and began
punching buttons on his desk phone. He hesitated.
"What if the guy's got Caller ID?" he asked. "Won't
that tip him off that we're interested in him?"
"No, this is a clean line. It doesn't show the calling
number," I answered his concern. "We use it all the
time for these pretext calls." Harold continued with
his calls while Ed and I kept scanning our pages. A
couple of minutes later he shouted:
"I think I've got a hit." We looked at him. "Apartment
D-4. This guy started his service three days ago under
the name of `Robert Harris.' When he answered he had
an accent that sounded pretty strange, a lot of
guttural syllables. He might be Middle Eastern."
"Okay," I said. "Let's look in the transcripts for
calls from that apartment. We might get a confirmation
right now." We riffled through our pages until Ed told
us:
"I've got him. Apartment D-4. There are a couple of
innocuous conversations and a note that says that a
conversation last night was in a foreign language and
is awaiting translation." I picked up my phone and
called the translation section. After a brief
conversation I turned on my speakerphone and addressed
the others:
"I'm having them play the tape of that conversation
for us. Let's listen." A Middle-Eastern sounding voice
came over the speaker, joined by another. None of us
understood enough Arabic to decipher what they were
saying but we knew we'd get a translation by morning
at the latest. At the end of the conversation I stood
and said:
"Well, it looks like we should do some on-the-spot
surveillance starting now. Maybe we'll get lucky."
Harold and I headed for my Honda and Ed for his
Toyota. We set up our standard surveillance pattern
parked down the street and across the intersections,
facing in opposite directions. I said to Harold:
"I like the way you stay focused on the investigation.
I'm sure Ed noticed it too."
"Well, I know what we're doing is important and I'm
giving it my best. Sometimes, though, my mind
wanders." As he spoke these last words his left hand
dropped onto my crotch. "I really like those uncut
cocks."
"We appreciate that," I replied. "Our pricks love the
attention." As I spoke, a woman approached the car on
the sidewalk and Harold removed his hand before she
noticed anything. I felt my prick stirring. More
people walked by, hardly looking at us.
"Aren't we conspicuous sitting out here in a parked
car?" Harold asked.
"Yes and no," I told him. "If we were staking out a
drug kingpin, he'd have look-outs to spot any
surveillance and we'd be made. If this were an ethnic
neighborhood, people would be immediately aware of
anyone or anything that didn't belong, and the word
would quickly get back to the target. This is a
typical middle-class area where people go on with
their lives and mind their own business."
Nothing happened for several hours. People entered and
left the building we were watching but none was our
target. 4 P.M. came and went, and Ed contacted us on
the radio and said:
"Fuck it, nothing's happening. Let's go home." I
acknowledged that and started the engine. During the
drive home Harold's hand came back to my crotch. My
prick swelled under the warmth of his touch. I had a
very visible bulge when I got out of the car and
followed him into the house. In the bedroom Ed was
already stripped down, and we joined him in his
nakedness.
"I can make pork chops for dinner, but it looks like
you two have something else in mind first," Ed
announced. My prick was fully hard, standing out from
my body with Harold's fingers wrapped around it.
Harold's prick was engorging, although I hadn't yet
touched it. He slowly skinned me back, jiggling my
foreskin to uncover more of the head with each stroke.

"I love that strong male cock smell," he said
breathily.
"Remember, I didn't take a shower this morning," I
cautioned him.
"I can see that," he said. "You've got a nice smell
and that white stuff all around your helmet." I felt a
sharp tickle deep inside me as a drop of lubricant
began its long crawl up my urethra. Ed came up to us
and nudged us closer.
"Let's go head to head," he suggested. "That cheese
we've got is pretty slippery." He grasped Harold's
prick and swung it so that his naked glans touched
mine. The spongy heads compressed where they touched,
and a hot spark seemed to shoot into my helmet. Harold
grasped Ed's prick and began working his foreskin in
short strokes, slowly and progressively uncovering the
big purple helmet. A large drop of lubricant parted
the lips of Ed's long slit.
"You're both leaking," Harold observed. "I like that.
He pulled Ed's prick towards ours and the front dome
kissed our joined tips. We stood for several minutes,
rubbing our engorged helmets against each other, the
mild friction enough to keep us fully aroused but not
enough to drive us toward orgasm. The contact spread
our lube and cheese all over Harold's dry tip until it
was as wet and slick as ours.
"I'd like to taste your hot cock now," he breathed as
he sank to his knees in front of me. My foreskin was
gathered behind the ridge, leaving the swollen glans
bare for him to engulf with his lips.
"Better sit down, Jack," Ed warned. "I know you. When
you blast off your knees will buckle." I backed u[
toward the bed and sat on the edge, Harold following
me as he milked my prick with his lips. My lubricant
was flowing steadily as he worked on me, and I felt my
excitement mounting.
Ed was very hot too, and he caressed Harold's nose and
cheek with his bulging wet glans. Harold pulled back
from me just enough to plant a kiss on the front dome
of Ed's helmet and say:
"I love the taste of that cheese." He returned to my
prick and clamped his fist around the base of my
shaft. I was hard, but the pressure of his strong
fingers compressed the veins and made my prick swell
and harden even more. Ed reached down between my
thighs and cupped my tightening scrotum to add to my
excitement. I reached over to grasp his prick, working
his foreskin up and down the swollen glans, the supple
hood sliding very easily because of the copious
lubrication.
"I'd better sit down too," Ed said as he sat beside me
on the edge of the bed. He knew that if I worked at
it, I'd have his load before I ejaculated, and that he
would fall as the climax gripped his body.
Harold's lips worked around my corona as his
tongue-tip drilled into my pouting meatus, lapping up
my lubricant as quickly as I secreted it. He was
driving me closer and closer to the brink and he knew
it. Ed sensed it too, for he said:
"Let's go back head to head for awhile. You know the
longer it lasts the more powerful it'll be when we
come." We stood at his suggestion, and held our pricks
so that the bulbous heads rubbed against each other.
We were in no danger of blowing our loads prematurely,
and we savored the precious intimate moments. Our sacs
were tight against our bodies with the excitement.
"I'll bet we'll all have strong appetites after we
finish," Ed told us. "Those pork chops are going to go
down mighty fast." We caressed each other's slick
smooth tips ardently, relishing each delicate
sensation, until Harold said:
"I want to finish you off, Jack. Then I'll do Ed." I
sat again and Harold sank to his haunches in front of
me, once more engulfing my swollen sensitive tip with
his lips while clasping my shaft tightly at the base.
I began moaning as my excitement mounted, and I knew
he'd have my load this time.
"Let me help" Ed murmured as he sat next to me and
cupped my balls. He kneaded my sac very gently, adding
to my sensations as I moaned louder.
"I want you to blast off good," he whispered in my ear
before kissing me tenderly on the lips. "You deserve
it." I put an arm over his shoulder and hugged him.
Our lips pressed harder against each other and then I
felt his tongue push into my mouth. We kissed,
open-mouthed, for several seconds before my increased
breathing told him that I was nearing the peak.
Ed pulled away, and we looked into each other's eyes
before mine closed. I was getting the familiar tickle
in the rim now, augmented by a tickle in the front
dome as Harold's tongue swirled in small circles
around my pouting slit. My breathing was rapid now,
and I felt myself slipping away from consciousness
into a state of pure sensation.
Harold's lips were now swirling around the middle of
my helmet as he began pumping my foreskin hard, up and
over the flaring rim. My entire glans was pervaded by
a hot tingle, and when a jolt of sensation shot down
my shaft to the root, I dissolved into orgasm.
I felt the hard contraction deep inside me as the
first jet of sperm spewed into my urethra, rushing up
my prick. I felt the friction of foreskin over corona
again, triggering another torrent of lava-like fluid
to sear its way up my tube. I was crying out
helplessly and mindlessly as my body was wracked with
the glorious sensations of release. My hips bucked
with the fury of my orgasm as Harold sucked another
jet from my throbbing glans.
I knew Harold had sensed that my prick was becoming
overly sensitive, because he removed his mouth and
yanked back hard on my foreskin, stretching its nerve
endings and putting tension on my gee-string. This
made my helmet dip down keeping my orgasm going at
full blast while avoiding friction on my tender nerve
endings.
More jets followed, but they weren't as intense as the
first ones. My eyes remained closed as I enjoyed the
blissful agony of the contractions deep inside me.
More loads rolled out of my distended teardrop shaped
slit, and I knew that Harold had positioned his tongue
under it to catch every drop. The heavy chlorine odor
of sperm hit my nostrils and I fell back on the bed,
exhausted by the biological storm that had just
wracked my body.
After a couple of timeless minutes I began to recover
from my daze and I opened my eyes. I saw both Harold
and Ed smiling down at me. Harold kissed me tenderly
on the lips and I tasted my own sperm, as he'd avidly
lapped up every drop.
"Less sensitive now?" he asked. I nodded affirmatively
and felt his finger digging in behind my balls,
milking the creamy residue forward. Then he milked my
shaft and I felt the last drops parting the lips of my
collapsed slit. His tongue flicked over the front dome
of my glans, wiping it free of cream.
"Your cock's as clean as the day you were born," he
informed me. Ed's, however, was as hard as before,
turgid and unfulfilled. Harold shifted his position
and grasped Ed's prick around the base, clamping his
veins as he'd done to mine. I could see Ed's flaring
corona swell slightly under the increased pressure of
blood, and more clear fluid poured from his long slit.
Harold put his lips on the front dome and began
pumping them up and down.
Ed's glans is a helmet, like mine, but slightly longer
and slightly more slender. Harold's lips traveled all
the way down to the rim, and locked behind it, before
he withdrew and stroked it right to the blunt end. He
was holding Ed's foreskin sharply back to expose the
rim and the deep groove behind it. He used straight
strokes because Ed, unlike me, preferred long straight
strokes to the rotative friction that always sent me
into orbit.
Ed lay flat on the bed as Harold worked on his prick,
and I joined the action by cupping his tight scrotum
tenderly. Harold's lip-strokes became faster, and Ed
began breathing heavily, caught up in the rapture of
sensations. I knew that he wouldn't last as long as I
had because he'd been hard longer and the anticipation
had built up his excitement. Harold's prick was also
hard, wet with slime, and I grasped it with my other
hand and gently stroked it from base to tip and back
again. My fingers bumped over his rim, and I felt the
hardness of his flare.
Ed's breathing had become louder now, and he gasped
for each breath. He felt the orgasm approaching, and I
saw his stomach muscles ripple as he tightened up
involuntarily. His legs began to tremble and Harold
increased his pace, combining his lip-strokes with a
rapid pumping of the foreskin over the hard, flaring
corona. The helmet was now dark purple, ripe for the
sensations that would push him over the edge. I felt a
pulse where my fingertips touched his urethra behind
his sac.
His fists clenched as he bellowed loudly, and I knew
that he was feeling the first hot spasm deep inside
him. His hips bucked as he thrust his throbbing glans
deeper into Harold's mouth, and I saw Harold's Adam's
apple working to swallow the discharge. Ed yelped
again as the next spasm shook his body, and Harold
swallowed frantically again. Having just experienced
my climax I knew that Ed must be feeling the delicious
hot tingle in his helmet.
Ed yelped again as the third contraction gripped him,
and after swallowing the hot stream, Harold removed
his mouth, leaving Ed's throbbing purple helmet
gloriously exposed. Harold yanked back hard on the
foreskin as he'd done to me, and I saw another stream
of white sperm erupt from the glistening purple glans.
Harold gave the skin another tug, pulling the front of
Ed's helmet down and triggering another pulse of cream
that rolled out of the long slit.
The sight was so awe-inspiring that I felt my prick
start to swell again, although Harold had drained me
thoroughly only a few minutes before. I felt Ed's
urethra pulse several more times as he drained
himself, and finally he was still. Harold and I waited
for him to rouse himself from the daze into which he
had sunk, and I kept pumping Harold's wet, slippery
prick as we sat. Harold and I looked into each other's
eyes and then he moved closer to kiss me again. This
time I tasted Ed's prick secretions on his lips.
"That was wonderful," Ed told us when he came back to
full consciousness. "Now we've got to take care of
Harold." He saw that I was still stroking Harold's
prick and he added several drops of Astroglide to ease
the friction.
"What would you like?" I asked Harold.
"Just what you're doing, Jack. That feels wonderful."
Ed reached into the drawer beside the bed and withdrew
a small cylindrical vibrator. Turning it on by
twisting the cap, he touched the rounded end to the
triangular groove under Harold's helmet. Harold sighed
in delight.
"Good thing the doctor didn't cut off your gee-string
when he circumcised you," he told Harold. "You've
still got that hot spot, and the vibrator's going to
do you a lot of good." He leaned forward and kissed
Harold.
I bent over and touched my tongue to Harold's slit,
which was now seeping clear fluid. I tasted his
lubricant, as well as the residue of lube and cheese
from my prick and Ed's. I knew that within a minute or
two Harold's pulsing glans would be spewing torrents
of salty and chlorine-scented cream into my mouth, and
I wanted to catch every drop.
I kept my fingers around his shaft, working them in
rotating strokes over his flaring corona but no
farther, as I was leaving room for Ed to apply the
vibrator to Harold's hot spot. Harold now lay back on
the bed, preparing himself for what was to come. As he
spread his legs I slipped my other hand between his
thighs to cup his balls.
"We're working on you three ways," I murmured into his
ear. "We're going to make sure we drain you dry." I
kissed his lips after saying this, while maintaining
the erotic friction on his prick. Raising my head I
saw that the color of his glans had darkened, and his
corona felt harder under my stroking fingers. Harold's
jaw was clenched, and his body was tensing with
excitement.
"Try to stay relaxed," Ed coached him. "You'll come
soon enough. We'll make sure of that." He continued to
roll the end of the vibrator along Harold's
gee-string, sending message of joy into the many nerve
endings. Harold was staring at the ceiling, and now
his stomach muscles tightened.
"Stay relaxed and let us bring you over the top," Ed
advised him. We knew that the more Harold remained
relaxed, the more the sensation of orgasm would feel
like a slowly breaking wave when it hit him. The
glistening purple helmet was fully swollen, eagerly
absorbing the sensations pouring into it, and I knew
that it would begin throbbing hard any second.
Harold took a deep breath and sobbed loudly as I felt
the first pulse behind his balls. An instant later,
his prick throbbed hard in my hand and shot a thick
jet of cream into the air. I barely put my lips on the
front dome in time, but I caught it all and swallowed.
The salty taste and the heavy odor of chlorine filled
my mouth and nasal passages. His prick pulsed again
and I heard him grunt loudly as he shot another
torrent into my mouth. My lips felt the vibrations
that Ed was applying to his gee-string and then his
helmet throbbed again. I swallowed his third load and
kept stroking his corona with my fingers, bringing
forth more discharges that exploded in my mouth until
they relented to slow gushes.
We were definitely draining Harold, and his body
strained with the effort until the fury was spent and
he began to relax. Ed removed the vibrator but I kept
my lips over the front dome of his helmet as it
softened, wanting to catch every drop. Harold lay
dazed by the after-shock of orgasm, and didn't speak
for a couple of minutes.
I leaned over him, kissing his lips tenderly. I felt
his arm go around me and he pulled me down to him. His
other arm brought Ed down. We clung together,
permeated by a sense of profound satisfaction.
"That was really nice," Harold said. "Doing this with
you guys really made my day." Ed and I took turns
kissing him, filled with a feeling of profound
tenderness toward our fellow worker and sex partner.
Finally, Ed announced:
"Guys, we have to eat. I bet you're both as hungry as
I am." We nodded and Ed went out to the kitchen to
prepare dinner while Harold and I jumped into the
shower. My prick was limp, with the foreskin extending
an inch beyond the head, and Harold pulled it back
because he knew that our bladders were full. The hot
water sluicing over my glans made my sphincter relax
and I felt and saw the thick yellow stream arcing down
from the end of my helmet. I saw that the hot water
was having the same effect on him, and we stood
together until we were drained.
"I still like the way you can pinch your skin when you
pee and make it swell," he told me. "I wish I could do
that."
"You can do that with mine any time you wish," I
replied. We dried each other and went out to join Ed.
He had set the table outside and was grilling the pork
chops on the barbecue. I made a salad and warmed the
bread while Harold took three bottles of beer to the
table outside. Our timing had been perfect, as the
pork chops were ready now.
Ed went inside to pee while I took the chops off the
grill and served them on plates. He returned and we
began to eat. Our foreskins had been loose and gaping,
but as the air grew colder they began to tighten. The
puckers shrank and now we had the usual nipples
hanging off the ends of our pricks.
"We'll have a busy day tomorrow," Ed told us between
mouthfuls. "It would be nice to pin down this `Robert
Harris' and find out where he really came from. I
doubt we'll ever find out his real name."
"What do we do when we find out?" Harold asked him.
 "That depends on who he is and what he's planning.
Maybe when we read the translation of yesterday's
conversation we'll know more."
"It's nice to be able to tap into people's phones the
way we do," Harold mused. "It really gives us a leg up
in an investigation."
"Yeah, but the civil libertarians are all bent out of
shape over it," Ed pointed out.
"I'm sure they'd feel differently if some terrorist
bombed their building or crashed an airliner into it,"
I said.
"I'm sure they would," Ed confirmed. "Must be nice,
living in an ivory tower and pretending that it's a
perfect world." We finished our meal and I said to Ed:
"You ought to go and take a shower now. Harold and I
can clear the table and do the dishes." Ed saw the
logic in that and left us to our task. After we'd
finished we joined him in bed.
"Okay, good night, folks," he said. "We'd better get a
good night's sleep. Tomorrow might be pretty heavy."
We kissed goodnight and went to sleep in each other's
arms.


Continued in Part 6