Date: Tue, 23 May 2006 11:56:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm@yahoo.com>
Subject: Exploring, Part 24, Adult Friends, 24/?

Exploring, Part 24
By Jackinnm@yahoo.com

	Several days had passed, during which I'd conferred
with Jim twice to find out if he could dig up anything
on Doctor Mangler. The TV news had added little that
would provide an understanding regarding why someone
had shot him. Jim, however, is a hell of an
investigative reporter, and when he came to see me at
home a few days later we pooled our information.
	"Okay, here's what I know, Jim. I got this from my
police sources and the media. First, the doctor was
shot at a range of 200 yards, and that .338 Lapua
Magnum cartridge had enough velocity and energy at
that range to shred his heart and lungs. I think he
was dead before he hit the ground. The cops say there
was a night vision scope involved. They figured this
because the area of the parking lot where he was shot,
as he stood unlocking his car, is just too dark for an
aimed shot at night."
	"Any clue as to who did it?" Jim interrupted.
	"No, nothing. The shooter didn't drop his wallet on
the scene or anything like that, and there were no
witnesses. A few people heard a noise, but nobody
identified it as a gunshot. I think that the only
possible lead for the cops is to try to work up a list
of people who own rifles chambered for the .338 Lapua
Magnum. It's not a common caliber, and so there might
be a fairly short list."
	"That might have been a serious mistake, using that
caliber," Jim observed.
	"Maybe, or maybe not," I replied. "I think the
shooter is smart. Give him credit for brains,
selecting the equipment that gave him a one-shot kill.
He may have also calculated the odds of being traced
because of the caliber. My guess is that he either
bought that rifle privately, or moved to Indianapolis
from another part of the country some time ago, after
he'd bought the gun. After all, the cops can only
chase down people who bought that caliber in the
immediate area. If he bought it in California, let's
say, he's clear. He also might have had the rifle
re-chambered for the Lapua. We don't know. It might
have been a .460 Weatherby Magnum when he bought it. A
custom gunsmith could easily have installed a new
barrel and bolt. Hell, the original rifle could have
been chambered for any kind of center-fire magnum
above .30 caliber."
	"If that's so, then he just might be home free," Jim
said. "Anyway, want to hear what I've found out?"
	"I sure would," I answered. "I haven't heard a word
about a possible motive for the shooting."
	"Okay, then, this is what I've found out. The good
doctor didn't have much of a practice. In fact, he
hardly practiced medicine at all. He made a damn good
living because he was the CEO of the company that
makes the  Clip-Clamp. Remember that one? That cheap
and dirty plastic circumcision device was Doctor
Ripper's invention. Mangler's company made and
marketed this thing, and that's probably why he got
iced."
	"Well, I can't say I mourn for Mangler. His product's
helped to mutilate millions of baby boys," I said.
That fucker's got a lot on his conscience, if he even
has a conscience."
	"Yeah, Mangler made lots of profits and Ripper no
doubt got a lot of royalties on his invention."
	"Some people will do anything for money," I said.
There seemed to be nothing more to say, and we sat
silently for a couple of minutes.
	"I just realized, Jack. I'm hungry. I didn't eat
before coming over. Want to go out to eat?"
	"I didn't eat, either. I was so wound up with
anticipation over your news I forgot all about it," I
said. "I guess we could go out to eat, but I've got
some hamburger patties in the freezer and I bought
some Kaiser rolls at the bakery today. If you like
hamburgers home style, we could eat right here."
	"That sounds good to me," Jim replied. "I've always
liked a good hamburger, not the crap they sell at
these chains. Anything I can do to help?" Encouraged
by his words, I brought out some frozen patties and
handed jim the Kaiser rolls.
	"Just slice these and pop in the toaster while I
grill the burgers." I went out to the barbecue and
when I returned in a few minutes with four grilled
patties, I saw that Jim had toasted the buns. We ate
the burgers with mustard and pickles and then sat
back, sated.
	"You're welcome to stay the night," I suggested. "I
know that we both work tomorrow, but we can get up
early and either eat here or grab breakfast on the way
to work."
	"That sounds good to me," Jim replied. We went into
my bedroom, where the queen sized bed awaited us. It
didn't take long for us to get out of our clothing,
and I looked at Jim's crotch appraisingly.
	"I see you're still using that plastic insert to
stretch your new hood," I remarked.
	"Not quite," he replied. "This one's a little longer
than the one I had on last time. My skin's stretched
some since then." As he spoke he removed the tape that
held the insert in place inside his foreskin. The
insert slipped down into his waiting palm and he took
it into the bathroom to rinse off the betamethasone
cream he'd been using. As he walked his prick swung
from side to side, with the foreskin overhang dangling
an inch below the end of his glans. I followed him and
pinched the end of his foreskin gently between thumb
and forefinger.
	"That's a lot of foreskin," I said. "You've got as
much as I do."
	"More, really, when you think that my cock's not as
big as yours."
	"You're right, Jim. In proportion you've got more."
My erection measured six inches along the top. His was
about an inch shorter than mine, and more slender as
well. The helmet shaped head was almost as bulky as
mine, and therefore larger in proportion to his shaft.
Limp, our pricks were about the same. Now he turned
and grasped mine. I reached past him to turn on the
shower.
	Under the water, we rinsed ourselves. There was no
need to soap up, as we hadn't gotten really dirty that
day. I felt the urge to pee, and I pinched the end of
my hood, noting that Jim pinched his as well. Our
foreskins began to distend as we let go, and when they
were fully ballooned we let go to release our yellow
gushes. We repeated this process a couple more times
until we'd drained our bladders, and then skinned back
to rinse our pricks. Once we'd dried each other we lay
side by side on the bed, but we weren't even thinking
of sleep.
	"I've been wanting to taste your cock," Jim revealed
to me. "I've also been wondering what that big smooth
head would feel like against my tongue. He moved so
that his mouth was over my half-erect prick,
stabilizing it with two fingers while his tongue began
probing into my foreskin pucker. My prick throbbed in
response when his tongue-tip touched my slit, and I
grasped his prick and squeezed the head gently through
the long covering skin.
	I sighed as I felt his tongue insinuate itself deeper
into my foreskin, tracing circles around my now
pouting slit, the sensations making the shaft stiffen
and the helmet swell. I felt Jim's prick swelling
between my fingers as I continued squeezing the glans
and making the root of his prick throb in response.
Jim removed his mouth for a moment to say:
	"I love the sweet taste of your cock. I want you to
come so that I can taste your cream as well." He
enveloped my foreskin with his lips as his tongue
pushed deeply into my hood, caressing the body of my
glans. His tongue worked around my helmet, swiping
across the broad upper surface, while I moaned in
delight. I began working Jim's foreskin up and down
his helmet, a smaller version of mine. We were now in
a "69" position facing each other, and his engorged
prick was inches from my face.
	My fingers tightened on his prick as I gently drew
back his foreskin. I watched the delicate tissues
stretch as they rode over the large head, and then
lock back behind the flaring, upturned rim. Jim's
helmet was as smooth and glossy as mine, now that it
had been protected and kept moist by his new hood.
He'd told me that its sensitivity had increased since
he'd begun restoration, and I believed it. I touched
the tip of my tongue to his slit and felt his prick
throb reflexively.
	Jim was very busy working on my prick. Keeping my
helmet fully covered with my foreskin he pushed his
tongue all the way into it, stretching my hood and
caressing my flaring rim with his tongue-tip. He
worked his tongue-tip around my rim, down one side,
until he reached bottom where the two halves of my
corona joined in a thin weld-line. I felt his
tongue-tip pressing into the triangular groove between
the two halves of my corona, hitting the many nerve
endings just below the surface. Again, my prick
throbbed in response. Now he worked up the other side,
until he reached the top again, where my corona's
flare is most prominent.
	I pushed my tongue-tip into Jim's slit. I didn't get
very far because he didn't have one of those long
slits that would spread to allow my tongue inside. I
did taste a drop of his thick, salty lubricant, and I
spread it in small circles around his slit. Jim's
scrotum was contracting from excitement, drawing up
sharply against his body, and I cupped it with my
other hand.
	I felt Jim's tongue probing deeply into my foreskin,
riding over the flaring rim of my helmet to caress the
groove behind it. His tongue-tip worked down along the
groove on one side, caressed the concentration of
nerve endings where the two halves of my corona met,
and then moved slowly up the other side. Now he
removed his mouth to speak:
	"Your big tip's not spongy anymore: it's gotten hard,
and I think I'll have your load pretty soon. I'm going
to skin you back now." I felt his fingers tighten
around my shaft right behind the head as he slowly
drew back my foreskin, working his tongue in rapid
circles on the glans right behind the expanding ring
of skin. I felt my tight foreskin snap down into the
deep groove right behind my rim, and then pull back
farther as he continued to exert traction. Now my
helmet and groove were completely bared, and I felt
his lips caressing the helmet as they advanced to the
rear. His lips locked behind my flaring rim, and he
twisted his head to give me the delicious sideways
friction he knew was most effective on a hard, excited
glans.
	I was working my tongue around his rim and the ring
of bunched foreskin behind it, adding to his
excitement. His prick was leaking a steady ooze of
tasty, viscous liquid onto my tongue, and I swallowed
repeatedly so as not to lose it.
	Jim was now working his mouth back and forth along my
engorged helmet, his lips and tongue massaging it
relentlessly to work me up and bring on orgasm. This
was very effective because I felt a slight tickle
begin where his wet lips caressed my nerve endings.
The tickle intensified, and I knew that he was
bringing me to the point of no return.
	Jim's hard helmet felt hot against my tongue, and I
knew he was well along too. I didn't want to risk
making him come at the same moment I did, so I slowed
my caresses. Meanwhile, he increased his.
	The tickle had spread all over my hot, hard helmet,
and I knew that, although I was trying to stay
relaxed, he'd draw the cream from my prick very soon.
I felt how swollen my glans was, hot and hard and
aching for relief. My crotch muscles were beginning to
tighten, and now my eyes closed involuntarily as I
withdrew into myself, captivated by the sensations of
my impending orgasm. I let go of Jim's prick, totally
focused on the delightful feelings within my prick and
groin.
	The tickling feeling in my helmet slowly changed to a
hot tingle, and I knew that I was only seconds from
hurtling over the edge. My legs were trembling and my
insides tightened up to the maximum. My awareness of
the world outside my body was nonexistent, and my
entire perception was in my prick.
	My hot, tingling helmet seemed to explode with
sensation, and a tingling spark shot down my shaft
until it made the root of my prick contract in
response. I cried out helplessly as I felt the first
burning jet rush up my shaft to slam through my
orifice and explode into Jim's warm and waiting mouth.
His tongue and lips lashed my straining glans and
brought on another explosion that sent a torrent of
searing liquid up my prick as I cried out again,
helpless in the grip of my agonized ecstasy. My mind
was totally engrossed with the sensational feelings in
my groin, and my body shuddered again as the third
spasm unleashed another gush of hot juice that boiled
up my prick to coat his tongue.
	Jim had stopped pumping my glans with his mouth
because he knew how sensitive my tip becomes during
orgasm, but I felt his tongue still tickling my gaping
orifice. He swiped his tongue sideways across the
pouting lips and triggered another torrent of juice
that spurted into his mouth. The next one was not as
strong, and the one after that a dribble instead of a
spurt.
	A few diminishing contractions kept me moaning, but I
knew that it was mostly over. My body began to relax,
and I felt my prick soften and shrink. It took me a
couple of minutes to recover, but when I opened my
eyes I saw Jim's prick in front of them, the bloated
glans staring right at me. The eye of his helmet was
dripping clear fluid, and I quickly wrapped my lips
around the rim as I licked his gaping orifice to lap
up the tasty juice.
	"Man, you really came hard," I heard Jim's voice as I
began to work on his prick and he slipped my hood
forward to cover my glans. "I felt your tip getting
harder against my tongue as you got hotter, and it was
really hot and feverish when you started shooting." I
guessed that he was primed for an explosion, having
just brought on my orgasm, and that it wouldn't take
long to make him
come.
	I sucked hard on his helmet as he'd done to mine,
calculating that he'd enjoy exactly what he'd done to
me. My lips locked behind his rim, tightening in the
deep groove with all it nerve endings as I pulled back
hard on the skin to make sure it was all exposed. I
worked my tongue around his corona and the groove
behind it, until I reached the magic spot under the
head where the two sides of the corona meet. Jim still
had his frenulum, and I made sure to swipe my tongue
across it several times to make him shudder and gasp
with delight.
	The blood filling his helmet made it both hot and
hard. It was losing its sponginess as I tongued it,
and the ooze of viscous lubricant increased. I enjoyed
the delicious salty flavor as I worked my tongue up to
the top of his rim, where it flared out in a sexy
upturn. Now I concentrated on the back-face of his
rim, where an array of nerve endings lay buried just
under the surface, and I heard Jim begin to moan. I
knew he was close, and I cupped his balls as I started
to pump his glans with my lips and tongue.
	My saliva and his copious lubricant kept his
straining helmet very slippery as I massaged the
delicate nerve endings with my lips and tongue. I
grasped the base of his shaft with my free hand and
clamped my fingers around it to compress the veins and
restrict the outflow of blood. I tightened my lips and
compressed the nerve endings in his corona as I pumped
his helmet hard. I was rewarded by a hard throb
against my tongue and palate.
	"OOOOWWWWW!" Jim yelled as the first spasm wracked
his body, and I felt the hard pulse in the underside
of his shaft as his first load raced up to the bloated
glans to erupt into my mouth. I swallowed hard and
caught another hot gush that spurted from the lips of
his slit to coat my tongue. The throbbing helmet
hammered against my tongue as it spewed another
torrent of cream into me, and I was forced to swallow
hard.
	Jim's frenzied grunting filled the air as his prick
kept throbbing and spurting into my mouth. At this
point I stopped pumping his glans because I knew that
he, too, became super-sensitive during orgasm. I made
sure to keep the loose skin of his straining prick
tightly back to maintain tension on his nerve endings.
Jim's hot prick throbbed in my mouth several more
times, releasing progressively weaker discharges of
semen, until it stopped and his body went utterly
still.
	I lay beside him, listening to his breathing as it
returned to normal. I was profoundly happy to have
been able to give him delightful sensations as he'd
given to me. The sharing was as joyful as the physical
sensations.
	After a minute I felt him stir, and I licked his
white-coated helmet clean and slipped the precious
hood forward over the head. He hugged me silently, the
tactile sensations telling me silently what he felt. I
hugged him back, and then swiveled my body so that we
were face to face. We fell asleep in each other's
arms, limp pricks between our abdomens.
	Next morning we quickly showered and shaved, in a
hurry to get to work. As we walked toward my front
door, Jim stopped me, kissed me on the mouth, and told
me he'd really enjoyed having my hot prick in his
mouth. I told him that I'd enjoyed tasting his as
well, and we went off to work.
	At 10 AM he phoned me:
	"Did you hear the news? It's on the radio right now.
A man named Jack Twister just got shot right outside
his office at Clip Inc., the company that makes the
Clip-Clamp. I'll meet you for lunch after I find out
more." I phoned my friend Brad at the Police
Department to try to find out what he knew, although
as the shooting was not a local affair I didn't have
much hope. However, the news had come in over an
official line, and he had some details. I met Jim for
lunch at a street-corner frankfurter stand and we
exchanged information:
	"It seems that Twister was the marketing manager of
the company," he said. "That's probably the
connection. He apparently did a bang-up job of getting
the Clip-Clamp into widespread use.
	"My police contact told me that the Indianapolis cops
have a `person of interest' that they're interviewing.
They say he owns a .338 Lapua Magnum rifle. There was
no news as to whether he's got a night sight for it."
	"How did they get on to him?" Jim asked.
	"Just routine police work. They checked a list of
people who had bought a rifle in that caliber during
the last five years."
	"Well, let's keep in touch," Jim said as he finished
his frankfurter. "Let's see how this develops." He
seemed glum at the thought that one of the shooters
had been suspected by the police. I felt the same way.
	The next two weeks brought nothing more substantial.
The `person of interest' had been interviewed
repeatedly by police, but had had the presence of mind
to hire a criminal defense attorney. The media
rehashed the same news every day, although there had
been no really new developments in the case. Friday
evening Jim arrived at my house again to discuss the
case.
	"Remember the Atlanta bombing, where this security
guard was investigated as a `person of interest'?" he
asked.
	"I sure do," I answered. "I also remember the anthrax
mail letters, where this doctor was investigated as a
`person of interest'. They were both cleared, weren't
they?"
	"You bet they were. Now it looks like this case is
going the same way. The guy in Indianapolis admitted
having a .338 Lapua, but that was no big deal. He was
able to prove he was in London, England, on business
when the first shooting took place."
	"What about ballistics? Any tests done?" I asked.
	"That was inconclusive. The bullets were too busted
up to retain any clear rifling marks. Back to square
one."

Continued in Part 25