Date: Wed, 9 May 2007 06:33:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jacksantoro2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Arrest Record, Part 18, Ault Frtiends, 18/20

Arrest Record, Part 18
By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com

	During the middle of the afternoon Ed received a
phone call from Peter in Ontario, replying to his
request to try to find Amir's whereabouts. When he
hung up Ed seemed in much better spirits, and Harold
and I waited anxiously to hear what Peter had told
him:
	"Well, Amir's okay," he said. "He went on a binge and
didn't even start back to Detroit. He's supposedly a
Moslem, but like many other people, he doesn't follow
his religion very closely. Moslems aren't supposed to
touch alcohol, but Amir got stinking drunk. The he
picked up a woman in a bar and they went to her place.
I don't know if he managed to do anything, drunk as he
was. My guess is that he wasn't even able to get it
up. It didn't matter, though, because the woman was a
working girl and he paid her for it. Peter's agents
were watching the hotel when he returned this morning.
They're sobering him up now and they'll send him off
tomorrow morning. Peter's going to have him escorted
right up to the border. We can take him from there."
	I was relieved to hear this. Compared to what might
have gone wrong, Amir's binge was small beer, no pun
intended. At this point there was nothing more for us
to do so we went back to our hotel in the late
afternoon, after making arrangements for two cars and
several other agents to drive with us to Port Huron in
the morning.
	We stripped down upon entering our room, still
feeling the tension of the day. I knew that we needed
"nature's tranquilizer" to relieve our tension. We sat
facing each other on the bed, legs intertwined, and
Harold rolled my foreskin nipple between two fingers.
Ed gently squeezed Harold's tip, while I did the same
to him. It didn't take long for us to get to full
mast.
	"Harold's made really good progress," Ed said as he
eyed Harold's engorged glans through the translucent
latex. "The coloring's improved a lot. See how the
head's delicate pink around the slit, turning
gradually purple farther back? The rim's a deep
purple, especially the back face." I saw that Harold's
glans was indeed darker and richer looking than it had
been. I knew it had become more sensitive as well,
especially around his flaring rim. Now I saw a large
drop of clear lube force its way between the lips of
Harold's slit, visible in the opening at the end of
the condom. I felt a slight tingle deep inside me, and
a drop of fluid began crawling slowly up my prick
toward the end.
	With my other hand I tickled the hairs on Harold's
sac, watching as his balls retracted against his body.
At the same time I began working Ed's foreskin back in
stages, pulling down slightly and then pulling it back
up. I repeated this, uncovering a little more of Ed's
glans, and then reversed to cover it again.
	"I think Harold needs relief right now," Ed told me
as he let go Harold's prick and began twisting his
nipples gently. Harold's engorged prick was leaking
copiously now, evidence of his mounting excitement,
and I knew Ed was right.
	"Do me, guys, and then I'll blow you both," Harold
pleaded as he fell back onto the bed. I let go Ed's
prick and began working on Harold's hardness. Harold's
need seemed urgent, so I palmed his prick and began
working my hands in opposite directions, twisting the
latex foreskin around the hot hard glans. Harold's
face reddened as his excitement neared its peak, and
the steadily flowing lubricant overflowed the condom,
making my palms too slippery to exert much friction. I
stripped the condom from his prick and worked my palms
directly on his glans and forward shaft, from the
front dome back to the circumcision scar.
	Ed and I crouched over him, heightening his
excitement, and I felt Harold's glans go into its
final swelling, the rim flaring even more as I worked
my palms around it. There was plenty of lubrication,
and so no risk of a friction burn on his tender
tissues. His breathing was very rapid now, just a
series of grunts, because he was right on the edge.
	Harold's prick jerked in my hands and an instant
later a thick column of cream shot from his swollen
purple tip, filling the air with the characteristic
chlorine odor. He grunted hard again as another jet
erupted from his twitching shaft and glans to fall
onto his abdomen. The excitement was contagious, and
my prick was leaking lube was well. I saw the orifice
of Ed's foreskin fill with clear fluid, and knew that
he was also caught up in the excitement.
	Harold's prick throbbed between my palms as it shot
another thick jet into the air. I kept applying the
delicious friction, knowing that although his prick
had become more sensitive, it could still tolerate
stimulation all through his orgasm.
	Now his throbs and jets were weaker, gradually fading
to a dribble as his orgasm ran out of steam. After a
final twitch, his prick was still in my hands and
began to soften. Ed wiped his down with a towel and we
waited for him to revive. Meanwhile, we gently
fingered each other's pricks, maintaining our
excitement. We ere both very wet, a fact that Harold
noticed upon coming back to full consciousness.
	"Man, you guys are really leaking," he commented as
he grasped our shafts. He pulled our pricks closer to
each other, and we followed, sitting face to face with
my legs over Ed's. I edged forward a little more, and
Harold skinned us both back and rubbed our tips
together.
	"Your cocks smell really nice, after a whole day
without a shower." He always appreciated the rich
masculine odor that emanated from our foreskins and
was eager to smell them up close.
	"You've got that head-cream too," Harold added as he
lowered his head and his tongue flicked out to lap at
our swollen helmets, licking up the light coating of
smegma that we'd accumulated during the day. He rubbed
our tips against each other while pumping our
foreskins lightly, working the thick fleshy rings
against our swollen rims. His tongue caressed the
undersides of our helmets, strumming our taut
gee-strings to add to the stimulation.
	Ed and I held hands, enthralled by the excitement
flowing into our pricks, and by Harold's enthusiasm.
We knew he was giving it all he had, determined to
bring us to shattering orgasms. I felt a slight tickle
in the front dome of my glans from the friction
against Ed's hard swollen tip, coupled with a stronger
sensation in my rim from the friction and compression
of the nerve endings. Harold's tongue against my
frenulum completed the picture, and I knew that I'd be
disgorging my heavy load within seconds, as would Ed.
	My glans, dark and distended, ached for the release
of orgasm, and the tension built inexorably inside me,
although I tried to remain relaxed. I kept my eyes on
the action as our pricks went nose to nose, urged by
Harold's strong fingers working our foreskins. The
tickle in my helmet intensified, and my legs began
trembling.
	Suddenly, Harold yanked our foreskins all the way
back and turned our pricks to take both helmets into
his mouth. I felt the scrape of his teeth on the
tender surface and this triggered my release. I closed
my eyes and cried out as the first blast of cream
exploded into my tube, rushing toward the end as I
heard Ed's yelp of orgasmic joy. Ed and I hugged
tightly as Harold sucked and stroked our pricks.
	My throbbing helmet was engulfed by Harold's lips and
tongue, and bathed in the mixture of our discharges as
we floated off into the free-fall of orgasm. I felt
Ed's hot hard head throbbing against mine as it
disgorged its loads, spitting them into Harold's mouth
where they blended with mine and swirled around our
swollen helmets. The delicious agony of orgasm filled
my body as Ed and I hugged and blended into one being,
united by our blissful tremors.
	Our prick-tips throbbed and jerked in Harold's mouth
as torrents of fluid poured from them. Ed and I
floated in mindless limbo, grunting loudly and
joyfully experiencing the frenzy of our orgasms. When
we'd drained ourselves we relaxed and sank into a
daze.
	After a few minutes we roused ourselves and showered,
taking advantage of the detachable shower head and its
extension hose to shoot hot water in needle jets onto
our tips to bring forth the yellow streams that would
flush our plumbing thoroughly. I gasped as the hot
needles stung my front dome and penetrated into my
urethra through my orifice, triggering my stream. Ed
skinned back and I aimed the pulsing stream at his
front dome until a surge of urine poured from his tip.
Then I aimed it at Harold's circumcised tip until he
reacted the same way, disgorging his heavy stream.
	Afterward we dried ourselves, ordered dinner from
room service, and went to sleep, anticipating the busy
day that lay in front of us. We arose early, and
prepared for the drive to Port Huron to meet Amir and
his escorts.
	"I'm not surprised he wanted to blow off steam," Ed
commented as I drove. "These guys lead pretty austere
lives. They all have to be single to qualify for
suicide details, and they have to live in a Spartan
manner while on a mission, no women, no booze, no
pork, no anything."
	"Think they're allowed to beat off?" Harold asked
from the back.
	"Darned if I know," Ed replied. During the rest of
the trip we kept in touch with the detail escorting
Amir by radio, and finally we saw them pulled over to
the side of the road on this side of the border. Amir
was driving his car, with a Mountie in the seat next
to him. Two other RCMP cars were behind them. The
Mountie got out and Ed took his place for a minute,
long enough to brief Amir that we were proceeding
directly to New York City via Interstate 80. When Ed
returned to our car we gave the Mounties a friendly
wave and got on the road.
	It was over 600 miles to New York, and we crossed the
George Washington Bridge at dusk, making our way
across Manhattan and into the Bronx, where we went
down to the Triboro Bridge into Astoria. A few miles
on Grand Central Parkway brought us to 94th Street,
next to Laguardia Airport, where we had reservations
in a small hotel. Adams, Spicer, Ted, and Paul had
flown in earlier in the day and had secured the rooms.

	We followed the same plan, Adams and Spicer staying
with Amir and eating in the room, while Ted, Paul,
Harold, Ed and I had dinner at a pleasant Italian
restaurant on Astoria Boulevard. Next morning we
awaited the customary telephone call. As a result of
Massad's capture, we knew who the contact person was,
and several cars with local agents trailed him from
his apartment to a corner where he phoned Amir's room
on his untraceable cell phone.
	This time the plan was not to apprehend the contact,
but shadow him to discover his associates, if he had
any. When he arrived at Amir's room he took the
canister containing a GPS tracker and left, with our
agents arranged in a loose tail. As before, they
didn't have to stick close to him because his trail
was visible on the screen of the tracking device.
	They also had another edge. The contact had been one
of the people Massad or Masood had revealed to Ted and
Paul, so the trackers knew where he lived. Shadowing
him was just insurance, as the contact might stop to
see another person about which we had no knowledge.
We'd learned from hard experience that we couldn't
take anything for granted in this business.
	As it happened, the contact went almost directly home
to an apartment in Jackson Heights, after stopping at
a coffee shop to buy a container of coffee. The agent
shadowing him reported that he was a heavy smoker, and
apparently coffee went well with his cigarettes. The
apartment was a three-story walk-up at the corner of
81st. Street and 32nd. Avenue, and the contact lived
on the top floor.
Ed, Harold, and I had followed at a distance, and
after the contact had entered his apartment we
conferred with the lead team, who had parked their car
down the street. The tracking device was so accurate
that at this close range we could tell which apartment
our suspect occupied. Ed and I went into the lobby and
found that Apartment 3-C had a mailbox labeled
"Ramirez." Obviously this was not his name, but at
least we knew his working identity.
As the local agents already had a tap in "Ramirez's"
home phone and another team had installed a bug in his
apartment while he was picking up the canister, there
was nothing else for us to do but return to the hotel
after dropping Harold off at Laguardia Airport. He was
going back to Washington, DC to assist in arresting
some of the people identified as terrorist operatives
in that area. Ted and Paul were also going to
Washington, but on the train, while Adams and Spicer
were returning to their duty posts out west.
By this time it was 2 P.M. and Ed and I stopped at a
diner to have a quick lunch. Harold would eat on the
Grumman on his way back to Washington. The diner's
specialty was lox and bagels, and we ordered these, as
we both liked them and had not tasted them in a long
time. After we'd finished we returned to our room.
"I'm glad we've got some time alone together again,"
Ed said to me as we stripped down. "Harold's a nice
kid, but I want to be with just you this afternoon." I
hugged him, kissing his ear, as I felt our pricks
touching between us. He ran his strong hands down my
back as I murmured:
"I feel the same way you do. Harold's very bright and
really nice, but it's been hectic having him with us.
Anyway, we'll see him tomorrow in Washington." Our
pricks were swelling between us, and we parted
slightly to ease them into a vertical position between
our abdomens. The room was warm, but there was
something special about being alone with my partner of
several years, with whom I'd shared dangers, rewards,
and frustrations. Ed kissed me on the lips as we eased
ourselves onto the bed.
Ed turned his body and now his lips were near my
prick. I felt a light kiss on the end of my foreskin
as I grasped his shaft lightly between two fingers.
"I like the way your hood's tight," he said. "It
really hugs the head and I can see the shape perfectly
through the skin." I felt his tongue-tip tracing the
edge of my foreskin's orifice, tickling the juncture
between inner and outer layers. I did the same to him,
and quickly insinuated my tongue-tip inside his
foreskin as it was looser than mine. Ed shivered as my
tongue-tip touched his slit, tasting the drop of
lubricant that was oozing through the lips.
Now I pushed deeper into his fleshy shroud, caressing
the blunt-nosed glans, savoring the rich masculine
taste and stimulating the sensitive nerve endings. I
felt Ed's tongue pushing into my foreskin's pucker,
probing for my slit. His fingers pushed my foreskin
back slightly to stretch the opening and give him
easier access to the glans, and now his tongue-tip
tickled my pouting slit as the fingers of his other
hand cupped my sac.
We were going slowly, not rushing, giving our
excitement ample time to build, and enjoying the
delights of each other's pricks. It felt very hot
inside Ed's foreskin, the result of blood that had
rushed to engorge his helmet, and I ran my tongue
around its circumference, strumming the taut
gee-string at the bottom. I felt Ed's strong fingers
push my foreskin all the way back, slowly enough for
me to feel the delicious stretching sensation as it
expanded over my helmet and its wide and flaring rim.
	His tongue again flicked across my pouting slit, and
then began tracing small circles around it, lapping up
the secretions that had built up since morning. Ed had
told me he loved the taste of my prick, and he knew I
loved his. Now his tongue worked back along the broad
upper surface of my helmet until it reached the
corona, and then began tracing its contours down one
side until it reached my frenulum. He quickly strummed
my gee-string as he tightened his grip on my prick and
pushed back on the skin to stretch the gee-string. Hot
sparks of sensation stabbed deeply into the taut
flesh, making me shudder helplessly.
	"Now that I've got you worked up," he said, "let me
put on a rubber and slip it between your legs."
Princeton was one of his favorites, I knew, as he
greatly enjoyed thrusting between my thighs as he
stroked my long foreskin up and over the glans. He got
up and came back with a towel that he spread in front
of me. Then he unrolled a condom down over his
rock-hard prick, ready to slip it between my thighs. I
lay on my left side and lifted my leg to give him
access, and felt his shaft against my perineum. I
lowered my leg and he began thrusting slowly as he
reached over me to clasp my prick, moving my foreskin
in long strokes, covering and uncovering my swollen
helmet, causing my excitement to rise to match his.
	"It's really nice, with you," Ed murmured as he
kissed my neck. His prick was thrusting slowly between
my thighs, and I felt the big helmet bump my sac with
each stroke. His fingers delicately manipulated my
foreskin, bringing it forward to engulf my glans
completely, and then pulling it back to uncover the
bug helmet and stretch my frenulum, causing the head
to dip slightly. I felt drops of viscous liquid
crawling up my prick to lubricate my thick fleshy hood
each time he brought it forward. His finger pressure
on my urethra forced the drops forward, where they
oozed from my slit to be captured by my hood as it
closed over the blunt end on the forward stroke.
	"I like feeling your prick down there," I said as I
tightened my thigh muscles, increasing the friction on
his prick as it slid inside the lubricated rubber. I
felt Ed's fingers tighten on my penis, and now he
began twisting my foreskin on each forward stroke, and
the sideways friction on my flaring corona fueled to
my fire. Until now we'd been climbing the slope at a
measured pace, but this imposed a new urgency, and
both of us began breathing more quickly.
	"You're really squeezing my tip," he muttered as he
increased his pace. I felt the flaring corona of his
engorged helmet scraping my perineum through the
lubricated condom, and knew that Ed was receiving all
the sensations he needed to attain orgasm. His fingers
accelerated on my prick, and I knew that he'd force an
orgasm from me within less than a minute.
	"I can feel your big tip swelling even more," I said
as I released and tightened my thigh muscles, giving
him surges of sensation.
	"Your tip's bigger too," he replied. "I can feel it
through the skin." He twisted my hood around the head,
stretching my gee-string from one side to the other.
	"I can feel your big rim against me down there," I
added. "Your tip's bumping my balls too."
	"Your rim's really flared out now," he commented as
he continued to manipulate my foreskin. "You'll be
blasting off any second." I knew he was right, as
despite my efforts to stay relaxed, I felt myself
tightening up inside.
	"AAAAHHH!" I heard myself cry out as he yanked my
foreskin all the way back, tensing the gee-string and
pulling the helmet down even as he gave a twist to my
sensitive flesh.
	"I bet you're getting that tickle," he said. "I can
tell when you're at that point." He was right, The
friction had produced a heavy tickle in my rim, and I
knew I was hurtling toward the brink. I slid my hand
down my body, ready to help him come when my climax
began.
	"You're close too, and I'll make sure you come with
me," I assured him as he pumped his prick rapidly
between my clenched thighs. His fingers flew over my
penis, dragging the foreskin back with twisting tugs
and then urging it forward to bump over my rim and
slide down the taper of my blunt glans. The tickle
suddenly changed to the familiar hot tingle and I knew
I was poised on the edge.
	I slid my fingers between my thighs, probing for the
underside of Ed's thrusting prick. I found the sweet
spot in the triangular groove under the head and
pressed against the gee-string to trigger his orgasm.
I heard him cry out helplessly as the newly
intensified sensations overwhelmed him, just as my
eyes closed and the heavy pounding of my orgasm began
deep inside me.
	I felt the first torrent of hot cream boil up my
prick, searing my urethra as it raced to the end. Ed's
prick throbbed hard against me as his body slammed
into mine, and we tumbled into the free-fall of orgasm
together. Ed gave my prick another forward stroke and
I discharged again, the stream erupting from my
throbbing helmet as Ed disgorged another load. Our
bodies strained against each other in hot frenzy,
mindlessly obeying the imperative of orgasm.
	We were both grunting and crying as our third spasms
hit us, and I felt Ed yank my foreskin back hard to
let the discharge shoot unimpeded from my gaping slit.
Now he kept my foreskin tightly back to avoid friction
against my helmet, because he knew that the stretching
of the nerve endings would maintain the momentum of my
orgasm. He kept thrusting hard, though, because inside
the distended condom his engorged prick was swimming
in sperm and not receiving much friction. I kept my
fingers pressed into the underside of his prick,
compressing his gee-string and urethra as he continued
thrusting.
	Now our cries were weaker, signaling the fading of
our climaxes. Our pricks still twitched, but without
the hot fury of a few seconds ago. Our bodies began to
relax as the last drops crawled up our pricks to seep
from our slits. Now we were very still, totally
absorbed in the intimacy of the afterglow and sinking
into the daze that follows orgasm. Our pricks shrank
and we lay together silently as I thought how well Ed
and I got along together, both personally and
sexually.
	Many minutes later, Ed's cell phone rang, and he
answered it. He listened for a minute and then rang
off. When he turned to me his face was grim.
	"There's been a shooting down in Washington. We've
got to get down there right now. Harold was involved."

Continued in Part 19