Date: Sat, 14 Apr 2007 11:37:03 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jacksantoro1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Arrest Record, Part 13, Adult Friends, 13/?

Arrest Record, Part 13
By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com

	We were listening attentively to Ted speaking:
	"One of the guys at our lab who supplied us with the
duplicate canisters had an idea a few days back. He
put a GPS unit and transmitter inside one of the
canisters. That way, if it ever got out of our hands
for any reason, we could track it. I've got it back in
our room." This revelation transformed the situation.
We weren't facing disaster.
	"Okay," said Ed. "We'll substitute that one for the
one in Amir's room. Then we don't have to stick close
to him when he goes for his walk. We've got about ten
minutes, so let's do it."
	"One proviso," cautioned Ted. "We don't let Amir know
about the switch. We've got to play this as if we
still depended on him to give us a good description of
the guy he passes the canister to."
	"Don't you trust Amir by now?" Spicer asked him.
	"Trust doesn't cut it," Ted replied forcefully. "It's
need to know. He doesn't need to know, so we eliminate
one possible source of a leak."
	"He's right," I assured Spicer. "It's nothing
personal. Need to know is standard security practice."
Ted went out and returned a minute later with a
canister that looked exactly like the ones we'd been
using so far.
	"It's a little heavier than the others but whoever
picks this up won't be able to tell because he won't
have anything to compare it with," he said.
	"What about Amir?" I asked. "He'll know."
	"No he won't," Ed corrected me. "Up to now he's just
answered the door while the canister's been laying on
the bed. He hasn't handled it or carried it for any
distance." Spicer picked up the canister and put it
under his jacket.
	"I'll try to switch them without Amir's noticing," he
said as he went out. A minute later he returned and I
looked at him with an anxious feeling.
	"What happened?" Ted asked.
	"Piece of cake," Spicer replied. "When I got to the
room Amir was in the can. I just replaced this one
with the other and that's that." He held up a canister
that looked exactly like the one with the GPS tracker.
Ed and I looked gratefully at Ted.
	"Good thing you had that one with you," Ed told him.
"Got any more in case we need them."
	"No, but I can get a couple more. I can have them
modified and flown out here by tomorrow."
	"That would be a good idea," Spicer concurred. "We
never know if we might need them."
	"These guys have already sprung one surprise on us
already," I added.
	"Now here's how we'll work this," Ed said to us. "We
leave here right now. Ted takes the car with the
tracker and the rest of us go by parallel streets to
about ten blocks ahead of Amir's path. Then we start
walking back toward him, a block apart. Any of the
opposition watching will be looking for people
following him, not people walking toward and passing
him. Ted will hang back a couple of blocks and pick up
the guys who have already passed Amir."
	"What's the purpose of that?" Spicer asked.
	"One of us might get lucky and witness the contact.
At least, we'll be walking face to face with anyone
following Amir and get a good view of him." We got up
and headed for the door. Ed, Harold, and I walked a
block down to the next street. There we got lucky. A
bus was coming and we boarded it, getting off a block
apart once we were ten blocks away. There was enough
foot traffic on the designated street so that we
wouldn't be conspicuous as we walked back along the
path.
	I led our little procession, and after covering five
blocks I saw Amir walking toward me. He gave me no
sign of recognition as we passed each other, and from
my peripheral vision I saw that he was still holding
the paper bag with the canister. I didn't look back
after passing him. A couple of blocks farther I saw
Ted's car parked by the curb. I got in beside him.
	"We'll stay here a couple more minutes," he told me.
"Ed and Harold will be here soon, and then Paul after
them. Adams and Spicer will walk back to the hotel and
pick up their car." I saw that the small tracking
device was on the seat next to Ted, a red light
blinking as it moved up the screen. That was the
canister.
	"What kind of range does this thing have?" I asked
Ted.
	"About a couple of miles," he responded. It was now
10:30 and I wondered how long the operation would
take. I noticed that the blinking red dot had changed
direction, swerving off to the right.
	A minute later Ed climbed into the car and a couple
of minutes after that Harold joined us. Both had
passed Amir but neither had seen any sign of a
contact. Paul showed up a minute later, excited. He
told us what had happened:
	"There was a guy in front of me while I was walking,
and when we got close to Amir he swerved and got very
close to Amir. He didn't stop, and I didn't even see
the package change hands, but the guy went left into
an office building."
	"That was it, then," I said. "I saw the red dot
change direction. He must have gone into the building
to get rid of any tail. I bet you there's another exit
on the next street." Ted put the car in motion, and
turned the corner, going left as we reached the
parallel street. Watching the screen, I saw that the
red dot was directly ahead of us again.
	"Let's repeat what we did before," Ted suggested.
"I'll pass him and drop one of you off in front of him
to started walking back. You okay with that, Harold?"
	"Yeah, I'll do it," Harold replied. "I'll watch to
see if the guy's alone or if he has a tail covering
him."
	"That's the idea," Ted told him. "We'll go on ahead
and Drop Jack off for a fixed surveillance and after
that we'll swing back to pick you up. There's no
danger of losing him as long as we've got the GPS
tracker." He accelerated and in a minute we passed the
contact that Paul pointed out to us. A couple of
blocks farther Ted pulled in and dropped Harold at the
curb. As soon as he'd left the car Ted went another
block and dropped me off in front of a coffee shop. My
job was to sit inside the coffee shop and watch the
street through the window. As it wasn't lunchtime yet
I was able to get a table by the window with a perfect
view of the street. I ordered a sandwich for myself
and several to go because I knew this operation might
last the entire afternoon. A small slight man with a
beard walked past me a couple of minutes later as I
was munching my meal. Another bearded man, slightly
taller, was about 20 yards behind him. A couple of
minutes after that Ted's car pulled up. I grabbed the
bag of sandwiches and went out, having paid for them
when I'd ordered them. Paying for your meal in advance
is standard procedure while on surveillance, as it may
be necessary to move out on a moment's notice.
	Inside the car we compared notes. Harold spoke first:
	"I saw him walking toward me, and now I'm not sure,
but there seemed to be a guy tailing him. The contact
was wearing a long black coat and had a beard. The guy
I saw behind him had a red sport jacket and also a
beard."
	"That checks with what I saw," I confirmed. "They
seemed to be in formation." At this point the radio
buzzed and Paul answered it. We heard Adams saying
that he and Spicer were in their car driving in our
direction. Paul gave them descriptions of our two
targets and suggested that they pull far ahead on a
parallel street and drive back on the street we were
taking, to spot our two targets. Meanwhile, we ate on
the run. I finished my sandwich and the others ate
theirs as we drove. We conducted this leapfrog
surveillance for another half hour until our two
targets turned into a walk-up apartment building. The
GPS tracker showed that the canister was there too, so
we knew that they hadn't handed it off to yet another
contact along the way, one of our concerns.
	"I think they'll be there for awhile," I said. "They
didn't spot us trailing them, and presumably they
don't have any reason to be concerned and head out."
Another undercover car from the local ICE field office
had joined us with two more agents, and they informed
us that they would arrange for a telephone tap and
physical surveillance of the property. They, too, had
a GPS tracker in their vehicle, which was our best
indication if our targets tried to move the canister.
	"We could make them disappear," Ted suggested as we
drove back to the hotel.
	"We've been successful at that up to now," Ed
countered, "but this is a different ball game. We know
for sure there's more than one guy involved here, and
we don't know how many more. Maybe another team will
come in to baby-sit the canister tomorrow. Maybe
they'll move it somewhere else. We don't know what's
going to happen and more importantly, we don't know
why. I vote we sit on this and try to get what we can
from the telephone taps."
	"I'll second that," I chimed in. "If we tried to raid
the place now, another contact might just come along
at the wrong moment and see the action. That would
fuck us up big-time."
	"I guess you're right," Ted conceded. "Let's get back
and baby-sit Amir. We have to move out in the morning.
I think the next stop's Pontiac, Michigan."
	"Not a long drive," Harold observed.
	"No, just a couple of hours, maybe. We won't be
rushed," Paul said.
	At the hotel we split up and went to our rooms. Adams
and Spicer had returned before we had and were already
with Amir.
	"I'm not hungry," Harold declared. It was close to
dinnertime, and I wasn't hungry either.
	"We can go out later if we feel hungry," Ed said as
he undressed. Harold and I stripped down as well, and
now we stood next to the bed, inspecting each other's
crotch for signs of excitement. I saw that Harold's
prick was already engorging inside its latex covering.
He was eagerly anticipating the next orgasm.
	"I like to play with those skins," he said as he
grasped both our foreskin nipples and began rolling
them between two fingers. This brought a response from
both Ed and me, and our pricks began swelling. Harold
got us hard in less than a minute and then pushed our
hoods back to bare the wet, glistening helmets. A
strong odor immediate permeated the room.
	"It's been a hot and busy day," Ed said. "Our cocks
got a little ripe."
	"That's just the way I love them," Harold said. "I'll
clean them off for you." He sat on the edge of the bed
and we stood in front of him. He pulled me toward him
and I felt his warm lips closing around my helmet, and
the point of his tongue drilling into my pouting
orifice. I reached down to work the latex sheath up
and down over his glans, and saw a drop of dew part
the lips of his slit. A tickle deep inside told me
that I was also secreting lube, and now I felt a drop
start its slow crawl up my urethra.
	Now Harold turned his attention to Ed's bare headed
prick, avidly taking it in his mouth to lick and
swallow his cheesy foreskin secretions. We were all
hard, and our pricks were responding to the attention.
	"You two go head to head," Harold suggested as he
pulled our pricks toward each other. His warm fingers
were tight around our shafts, keeping the foreskins
all the way back, and now I saw and felt the front
dome of my helmet bump into Ed's. There was a
resiliency to its hardness, and the front of our
helmets compressed as they touched. Although Harold
had licked off the secretions, fresh lubricant was
seeping from our orifices, and the front domes slid
easily over each other.
	"Your balls are getting tight, both of you," Harold
commented as he continued to handle our pricks,
rubbing the heads together in different patterns,
first side to side, and then in small circles. Now
Harold was sliding my glans up over Ed's, and my
frenulum slid along the broad upper surface of his
helmet.
	"Let's double-dock," Ed suggested. "I don't think
Harold's seen that before." Harold nodded negatively,
and let got of our pricks. I released his and
concentrated on keeping Ed and me head to head while
we worked our foreskins into place. Harold slowly
stroked the latex hood up and down his prick as he
watched, fascinated.
	Ed slid his foreskin up over his head and then onto
mine, bringing it all the way to my flaring rim until
he ran out of foreskin. Now I worked mine up over my
helmet, covered with Ed's foreskin, overlapping it and
then stretching it out to reach to Ed's foreskin
covered corona. Now we had two layers of foreskin
covering our engorged helmets, and Harold reached up
in wonderment and began stroking our pricks through
the layers of flesh. His touch was electric, his
enthusiasm communicating it way to us through our
pricks, and our arousal surged.
	I reached down to cup Ed's tight scrotum and he did
the same to mine. Harold's strong fingers worked our
layered foreskins back and forth, and then sideways,
varying the sensations unpredictably as we sighed in
delight.
	"I think you guys better lie down," Harold told us.
"If your legs turn to jelly while you're joined like
that, it could hurt." He was right, and we carefully
joined him on the bed, ending up lying face to face
with Harold behind me. He reached over me and resumed
working on our foreskins, stroking slowly now so as
not to precipitate our orgasms.
	"I'll keep you guys going for awhile," he said as I
reached behind me and groped for his prick. I found it
and wrapped my fingers around it, stroking the latex
gently along his swollen glans. Ed and I stared into
each other's eyes, enjoying the intimacy and
anticipating the wild orgasms to come. We still cupped
each other's tight sacs, slowly and gently kneading
the orbs within, adding to our sensations.
	"It's really slippery in there," Ed commented.
	"Yeah, we've both been juicing a lot," I answered.
Harold had brought a towel and now he placed it on the
bed between us.
	"This is for after you guys come. There's going to be
a lot of cream flying around." There was already a lot
of liquid inside our foreskins, as we'd been secreting
steadily, and now I felt it creep between the layers
of skin. Harold noticed it too.
	"You guys feel really slippery inside," he said as he
fingered our foreskins, feeling mine sliding over Ed's
lubricated hood. I felt his soft lips as he kissed my
cheek.
	"This is really nice of you," I told him.
	"I just want to make you guys come inside each other,
and feel your cocks throb," he said. "I've got a front
row seat to the hottest docking scene in town." His
excitement was infectious, and my passion rose as his
fingers tightened on my foreskin, applying both
friction and pressure to our engorged helmets trapped
inside.
	"Even through the two layers of skin I can feel your
tips just got harder," Harold announced. "Now some of
your juice is leaking out. His fingers had reached the
forward edge of my foreskin, wrapped around Ed's
corona, and some of the lubricant was seeping from
under the edge. He massaged the warm slippery liquid
into my flesh, pressing hard to reach the straining
prick heads underneath.
	"My tip's tickling," Ed told me. His eyes bored into
mine, watching and monitoring my excitement. I knew we
was waiting for my eyes to close, because that would
signal my impending explosion. I felt a tickle in my
tip too, right at the rim where Harold's fingers were
still playing. Now Harold full-fisted our foreskins,
and began a strong twisting stroke intended to bring
us over the brink.
	The tickle intensified, and I felt my body tense in
response. I sensed that Ed was feeling it too, because
his breathing became ragged like mine. I still cupped
his balls, but now I clutched his free hand with mine,
feeling him squeeze hard as his excitement neared the
peak. My eyes closed as the tickle in my helmet grew
and began changing to a hot tingle.
	My engorged glans ached for release, and now the hot
tingle exploded, sending hot sparks down my shaft and
triggering the explosion. I cried out as the first
spasm shook me, and heard Ed yelp as the torrent of
hot juice seared its way up my tube to pour from my
pouting orifice. Ed's long slit disgorged its load at
the same time, the hot fluid washing over the front
dome of my glans as it mixed with his. Another
contraction hit, and our bodies struggled together as
our juiced filled our foreskins, bathing the helmets
right down to the flaring, straining coronas.
	I felt my foreskin distending as our third loads
discharged simultaneously, further stretching our
foreskins and seeping through the layers. I felt Ed's
hot hard helmet hammering against mine as it throbbed
with joy, releasing further streams to mix with mine.
Our tips were awash in sperm, which masked the
friction Harold was still applying to our entwined
foreskins and preventing distress from
over-sensitivity.
	Our straining bodies shuddered again as we shot
another load, and now I felt our pricks separating,
sliding away from each other inside our lubricated
hoods. I didn't feel the throb of Ed's glans as the
fifth stream washed over the front of my helmet,
followed instantly by my liquid response. After a few
more weaker spasms, we were still, breathing heavily
and feeling our foreskin separating.
	My awareness returned and I heard Harold's voice:
	"Did you shoot into each other's holes this time?" He
was referring to an earlier occasion when Harold's
first discharge had shot right down my pouting
orifice, triggering my orgasm.
	"Not this time, but it was terrific anyway," was Ed's
reply.
	"It was heavenly, thanks to you," I added as I pulled
Harold down to me and kissed him fully on the lips. I
pulled Ed closer to me and kissed him too.
	"We couldn't have done it without you," I told Ed.
	"Harold hasn't had his jollies yet," Ed reminded me.
"We've got to take care of him." Ed pushed Harold flat
and gasped his hot hard prick, peeling off the condom.
	"It feel good when you do it to me with a condom on,"
Harold said. "Why are you taking it off?"
	"I think your tip's sensitive enough by now to
appreciate some direct action," Ed answered. I moved
next to Harold to cup his balls, certain of what Ed
meant to do. Direct finger action on a sensitive glans
produces an intense, almost unbearable sensation. Ed
and I had done this to each other several times. Each
time Ed had rubbed his fingertips directly on my naked
helmet he'd reduced me to a shuddering, yowling
creature, totally captivated and rendered helpless by
the stimulation. Now he grasped Harold's shaft in his
left hand, holding it upright, whle he began to
massage the wet, lubricated helmet with the fingertips
of his right.
	Harold went rigid, and I was certain he'd never felt
anything as intense before. He began moaning, and I
detected a slight tremor in his body. I was happy that
Harold had regained enough sensitivity in his glans
from keeping it covered with the condom to benefit
from this type of stimulation. Before, it had taken
heavy, full-hand stroking to bring him to orgasm. Now
Ed's light fingertip touch was enough. I noticed that
his slit was juicing copiously, keeping the tender
helmet well lubricated.
	Harold was moaning louder now, and his stomach
muscles had tightened. His fists had clenched, and his
scrotum was drawn up tightly against his body. Ed's
fingers flew over the end of his prick, working from
the front dome, down over the high flaring corona, and
back to the brown scar ring where he'd been
circumcised. He kept his fingers moving so as not to
tire out the nerve endings in any one spot, and the
succession of fresh sensations now had Harold emitting
a series of staccato yelps in response. I saw that his
tip had turned darker purple and the rim seemed to be
flaring out more.
	"His helmet's gotten harder," Ed pointed out to me.
"He's close." I had my fingertips lightly touching the
tissue behind his tight scrotum, and I knew I'd feel
the first pulse when Harold slipped over the brink.
	Harold's yelps became louder as hot sensations poured
into the end of his engorged, straining prick. I saw a
tremor begin in his legs muscles as his body tightened
up further under the impact of the overpowering
stimulation. Ed carefully varied his touches, at times
rubbing straight and changing to a light twisting over
the front dome. Clear liquid seeped from his long
slit, and Ed lovingly spread the viscous fluid over
the sensitive nerve endings, making Harold cry out
helplessly.
	My fingertips felt a pulse behind his balls as I
heard him yelp again, and a second later a thick white
stream of cream erupted through the long slit atop his
helmet. I felt another pulse as the second load shot
through his throbbing prick, arcing high and landing
on his stomach. Ed continued caressing the deep purple
glans, giving him more friction to maintain and
heighten his orgasm, and Harold responded by bucking
his hips, caught up in the frenzy of orgasm. His yelps
filled the room as he blew another hot stream of sperm
into the air, completely helpless as the orgasm raged
through his body.
	I noticed Harold's eyes were closed, the first time
I'd seen him do so as he came, and I knew the
sensations must be unusually intense. I felt another
pulse just before I saw the jet shoot from his
straining tip, this time landing back on his swollen
glans and adding to the lubrication.
	Harold's next jet was weaker, and the following one
barely cleared the gaping orifice before oozing down
the glans under Ed's caressing fingers. Now his prick
was just seeping, although he was still moaning and
breathing hard. After a few more seconds the orgasm
died out and Harold was still. Ed still held his prick
upright, but removed his fingers from the glans.
	Harold lay dazed for a couple of minutes as his
breathing slowed and his body relaxed. As his prick
softened, Ed bent over and licked the mixture of sperm
and lubricant from the shrinking helmet. I pushed the
residue forward with a fingertip, and Ed milked the
shaft to drain him completely.
	"That was so hot," were the first words he spoke as
he revived. Ed and I lay next to him, sandwiching him
between us, hugging and kissing him.
	"We enjoyed it too," I whispered into his ear. Harold
squeezed my hand in response. Finally, we got up and
showered before going to sleep.
	At six the following morning, we were awakened by the
buzzing of the portable radio. Ted told us that
Barton, from the local field office, was coming with
news, and that we'd all be assembling in our room in
ten minutes. We just had time to dress when there was
a knock at the door. Barton, whom we hadn't seen
before, was big and beefy, with square head, square
jaw, and the build of a heavyweight boxer.
	"There's a lot of news, and not all of it good," he
began. By contrast with his appearance his voice was
pleasant, soft, and his manner was more professorial
than that of a brawler.
	"We got the taps in place by six, and we started
recording the calls. There weren't many, and they
proved to be dead ends. We couldn't trace the numbers
because they were to cell phones. These are a special
type of cell phone. You buy them for about 30 dollars
at any convenience store, and you buy a calling card
with them. There's no record of who owns the phone,
and of course no address. We can trace such calls to
the nearest cell tower, but that's it. The caller
could be living anywhere within hundreds of yards, or
he could be from out of the area and sitting on a park
bench or in a coffee shop."
	"Ohhh," muttered Ed. I shook my head. This was bad
news.
	"We hadn't encountered this before, although we'd
thought of it as a tactic to frustrate tracing
telephone calls.  We didn't know they were that
sophisticated, although we should have realized that
if we could think of this, so could they. These people
aren't idiots." Barton was right. Underestimating the
enemy can be a fatal mistake, as this country had
learned at Pearl Harbor, the Battle of the bulge, and
on September 11.
 	"This is going to make it more difficult to trace
cells and individual members," Barton went on. "We'll
be forced to rely more on painstaking analysis of
traffic patterns, informers, and interrogation of
captured members. I understand Ted and Paul are pretty
good at that." E again was right. It was going to be
harder from now on.

Continued in Part 14