Arrest Record, Part 1 By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com
Introduction: This is a continuation of the exploits of Ed and Jack, agents of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) previously laid out in "Awareness Level" and "Arrest Powers." Terrorism is a real threat in today's world, and the real-life ICE Agents are doing their part in coping with the problem, although perhaps not in exactly the same way as portrayed in these stories.
Ed and I share a house on the outskirts of Washington, DC, our official base. However, as we're in Special Operations, we often travel on various assignments. Not all of our working time is a thrill-a-minute, though. This day we'd been assigned by our supervisor to help break in Harold, a new ICE agent assigned to Special Ops. Part of the reason was that we had about ten years' experience on the job, and the other part was that there was nothing happening that required our talents.
Ed and I sat with Harold in our cramped office at headquarters. Ed and I were in our 30s, and Harold was easily 10 years younger, with a fresh, unlined face and thicker hair. We were all about six feet, with weight in proportion to height. As we worked for a real law enforcement agency, unlike some of the bureaucracies that infest Washington under the guise of being law enforcement, we were all fairly muscular and agile. Also, instead of three-piece suits, we wore uniforms and gun belts.
"Some of our assignments are pretty routine," Ed was explaining to Harold. "Sometimes we work a port of entry to spot a terrorist trying to enter the country. That involves checking a lot of passports, looking for things that seem out of place, and spot-checking some people."
"What do you look for?" Harold asked.
"We look for several things, and the first principle is not just to see, but to observe," I took up the discourse. "When we look someone over, we look for small details, such as clothing that doesn't seem to match his station in life. Also, we look at the passport carefully. We caught one guy because his passport had an issue date two years old, but it looked as if it had been printed last week."
"We look to see if the person has a lot of money, while claiming to be an unskilled laborer," Ed continued. "We look at his hands. If he says he's a field worker but has hands like an office worker, we know something's wrong."
"Do you watch out for Moslems?" Harold asked.
"Sure we do, but remember that not all terrorists are Moslems and not all Moslems are terrorists," I answered. "We've had some pretty nasty all-American terrorists all through this country's history. Remember Timothy McVeigh? Right now our main concern is Moslems trying to enter the country for nefarious purposes, but we have to remain alert to other possibilities. Just because some Moslem terrorists are trying to get in doesn't mean that Latin American drug cartels have given up trying to smuggle dope."
"One tool we use is the watch list," Ed added. This lists all the identities connected with criminals, terrorists, drug smugglers, and other people we consider undesirable. This keeps out the obvious penetrations, but we know that terrorists travel under other identities. They use various covers to get around the watch list and to maintain lower profiles."
"Another problem we face is that Moslems don't all look like Saddam Hussein," I said. "Moslem is a religion, not a race. While many have a Middle Eastern appearance, there are African Moslems, Caucasian Moslems, and others. You see how complicated our problem is."
"Still, you two guys have a pretty good arrest record," Harold piped up. "That's why I was assigned to you."
"What else did you hear about us?" Ed asked. "I'd been waiting for this. I'd wondered if the new guy had been told that Ed and I are gay lovers.
"Well, the boss told me you were gay," Harold replied. "In fact, that's one reason why he assigned me to you. My background check turned up that I'm gay too, and he thought we'd get along well together." This statement had cleared the air, and I felt more confident that we'd get along well with Harold.
"It's almost five now," Ed stated. "It's almost closing time, and maybe we could continue this discussion at our place. Anyway, we can offer you a great steak dinner." Harold's face lit up at this, and he accompanied us out to the parking lot, where he got into his company car, ready to follow us. The hour's commute was no worse than most days, and we pulled into our driveway long before dark.
"We always strip down when we get home," I told Harold and Ed and I began removing our uniforms. "We've got a high fence around our back yard so we can go bare-assed. Anyway, we'll be grilling the steaks outside." Harold followed suit, and soon we were all naked.
Inevitably, our eyes dropped to each others' crotches. Ed and I had small pricks, as we were both growers,' with long pendulous foreskins that dangled off the ends. Our big helmets made the fleshy tubes bulge. Harold, on the other hand, was a shower,' with a long shaft topped by a big helmet but with a thick brown scar ring instead of a foreskin. Like many American males he'd been circumcised.
"Drink beer?" Ed asked as he withdrew three bottles from the refrigerator. Harold accepted his gratefully and Ed and I began working on the evening meal. It didn't take long to fire up the barbecue and get the potatoes roasting, and then we assembled the salad. Once we had the outside table set, we finished our beers and began on three more. We sat in the lawn chairs while the potatoes finished cooking, the most time-consuming part of the preparation.
"One thing we've got in our favor is that all Moslem males are circumcised," Ed continued with the discourse. Harold looked surprised and said:
"Lots of guys are circumcised. I am. They did me when I was born. How does that help you?"
"That's right, Harold. Lots of American males are circumcised, like you. Most Europeans and Asians are not, unless they're Moslem by religion. It's the same with Latin Americans. Most haven't been cut. If we find a circumcised guy trying to get in on a passport from one of those areas we know we have to check him out further," Ed replied.
"We had one Latin American guy try this a year ago," I added. "He claimed to be a Guatemalan peasant and even carried a crucifix around his neck. He was even able to recite the Hail Mary. When we stripped him down we saw he'd been clipped, and that gave him way. He was Arabic but was trying to look like a Latin American. His cover was perfect except for that."
"These guys trying to get in are not going to be carrying a copy of the Koran, and they're not going to be shouting `Allah Akbar' at the port of entry," I continued. Ed looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I nodded and he spoke:
"Another thing is that most Moslems shave their pubic hair. This isn't required by the Koran but it's a strong tradition with them. So if you find a guy who claims to be Asian or South American, or European, and he's got no foreskin or pubic hair, you know you've got a hot one. I don't care if he wears a clerical collar and carries a rosary and a bible. You hold him while you check him out thoroughly." Ed got up to put on the steaks and the discussion paused.
After dinner we cleaned up and Ed dispensed more bottles of beer. Harold had a question:
"What if he has an American passport or what if the person is a woman? I decided to answer:
"Then you might be screwed unless you catch some contraband during the search. Still, you've got a couple of things going for you. One is that while most Americans are circumcised, few shave their pubic hair. Another is that Moslem women also shave their crotches. Some Moslem women undergo female genital mutilation, but that requires a medical exam. You can't do that yourself. If you're strongly suspicious, and a doctor confirms that a woman's been mutilated and she shaves her crotch, it's a sure thing she's Moslem."
"I really envy you guys," Harold said. "You were both lucky not to have been clipped. Those long hoods look good on you."
"I'm sorry you were," I responded. "Still, since you're here, we'll be glad to share our foreskins with you."
"Sure," Ed added. "Feel free to handle them. They love attention." Ed spread his legs as he spoke, giving Harold full access to his crotch. Harold eased out of his lawn chair and sat on the grass in front of Ed. He reached out to grasp the long nipple of Ed's foreskin between two fingers, rolling it sensually. I saw Ed's prick begin to engorge, and as I watched mine began swelling as well from vicarious excitement. I went over to sit next to Harold on the grass and reached down to give his big pinkish-purple helmet a few gentle squeezes.
"Oh, that makes my insides tighten up," Harold commented as I continued squeezing his rapidly swelling tip. His prick did not lengthen much, just hardened to a full six inches. He reached down with his other hand to begin squeezing my glans through its thick fleshy shroud. My prick immediately responded as the root contracted with each squeeze. It didn't take long until we were all hard.
"We're all around six inches," Ed commented as he scrutinized all three erections.
"We've all got big tips," I added. "They're all helmets, with that sexy flaring ridge at the back."
"But you guys have skin covering your tips," Harold riposted. "Hell, you've got lots of skin. Usually uncut guys' skins come off the head when they get hard. You've got enough to cover the head." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "They do skin back, don't they?" Ed smiled at him and suggested:
"Why don't you see for yourself? Go ahead, skin me back." At these words Harold shifted his grip slightly, closing his thumb and forefinger around the foreskin covering Ed's glans, and began pushing the skin down. The blunt purple nose of Ed's glans came into view as the orifice stretched, losing its wrinkles. A large drop of clear fluid seeped from between the long lips of Ed's slit, filling the foreskin's orifice. Harold pushed Ed's foreskin farther down and then inhaled deeply.
"I love that smell," he remarked. "You really smell like a man should smell. I wish mine smelled like that." As he spoke he pushed Ed's hood farther down so that now the orifice was stretched over Ed's flaring corona. I saw a thin coating of white covering the glossy surface of his glans. Now Harold removed his other hand from my prick and grasped Ed's prick with both hands, stabilizing it as he pushed the foreskin down so that it snapped into the deep groove behind his rim. Meanwhile, I continued to apply gentle squeezes to Harold's helmet.
"I said we'd share our skins with you," Ed told Harold. "Have you ever had another guy's skin over your head?"
"You mean docking?" Harold asked. "No, I read about it and I've seen pictures on the Internet, but since most guys I've known were cut, I've never been docked."
"How about the uncut guys?" I asked.
"None of them had skins as long as you two," Harold answered. They were too short to dock me. Anyway, I've got a big head. You'll have to use all your skin to dock me."
"Let's go inside where we'll be more comfortable for docking," I suggested. We arose and trooped into the house, where Ed and I led Harold to the bedroom. A queen size bed awaited us, and we sat side by side on the edge.
"Do you wash that off?" Harold asked, pointing at the whitish creamy film covering Ed's engorged helmet.
"Yeah, I do, but not now. That's going to be the lubricant for when I dock you." He pulled Harold down onto the bed facing him so that their two pricks were end to end. I got behind Harold and stabilized his circumcised prick while Ed pulled his foreskin forward. Now their tips touched and Ed's skilled fingers began urging his foreskin forward over Harold's glans. Harold sighed as Ed's ample hood engulfed his glans.
"I never felt a guy's skin over my tip before," he said.
"Now that I've got you inside my foreskin let me do the work," Ed suggested. "I'm going to use my skin to massage your tip until you come." Ed now had Harold's helmet completely covered, right down to the corona.
"I don't think that's going to take long. I'm already so hot from handling you guys and feeling my tip covered by your skin."
"You've also got a full bladder," I added. "That adds to the tension." I lay down behind Harold, wrapping my arms around him because I wanted to feel him when he came. Over his shoulder I could see Ed's fingers aggressively working his foreskin over Harold's swollen helmet, fueling his excitement. Harold had placed his hand in Ed's crotch, cupping his sac. I knew their balls were tight against their bodies with excitement, because mine were.
"I'm going to try to make us come together," Ed told him. "It's really hot when you feel the other guy's tip against your while you're both coming."
"That's why you're mainly rubbing your skin on my helmet," Harold observed. "Mine isn't as sensitive as yours." His breathing was coming faster now as his excitement mounted. I pressed myself against him, feeling him begin to thrust slightly as his body responded to the stimulation. I realized that my foreskin still covered the end, as Harold had never retracted it. My prick was pressed between my stomach and his buttocks, the hard core straining inside its covering hood.
I saw that Ed had changed his stroke over the head of Harold's prick. Now he was administering a twisting motion, concentrating on the rim, calculated to hit the abundant nerve endings in the corona. Harold moaned at the new sensation, and I felt the tension in his body increase.
"I'm close, so close," Harold muttered an Ed's sensual stroking dragged him close to the brink.
"Me too," Ed answered. "Just try to stay relaxed and we'll come together." Although Ed had been applying both pressure and friction to Harold's glans, the movement of his foreskin had also stimulated his prick. The inside of Ed's foreskin, richly endowed with nerve endings, had absorbed a lot of stimulation during the last few minutes, and as he'd twisted it over Harold's glans it had also moved over the sensitive surface of Ed's helmet, adding to his sensations.
Both of them were breathing hard now, and as I listened I heard their breathing change to closely spaced grunts as they rode to the peak. Harold was not thrusting harder, pressing his engorged tip deeper into Ed's foreskin and pressing it against the blunt end of Ed's glans. Their grunting grew louder and more ragged, and I knew that they were past the point of no return. Even if the roof caved in they would be floating in the free-fall of orgasm within seconds.
Harold was the first to cry out, and I felt the spasm go through his body as he released the first torrent of sperm. A second later Ed's cry of joyful agony filled the air, and I knew that his jet had splashed against the front of Harold's throbbing glans. Harold yelped now, his body straining against mine as I held him tightly, as he flooded Ed's foreskin with another load. I saw white cream running out of the end of Ed's foreskin, filling the air with the familiar chlorine odor of fresh sperm.
Having docked with Ed and a couple of other guys, I knew what Harold and Ed were feeling. Their orgasms were heightened by the feel of the other's glans throbbing hard against their own, and the sensation of hot sperm bathing their tips. I knew what it was like to have a jet of hot cream washing over my corona and rushing into the deep groove behind it.
Both men shot again and more chlorine-scented cream flowed from under Ed's foreskin, along Harold's shaft and falling down to saturate the bed sheet. Now their spasms seemed to be weaker, although I was sure they were still caught up in the throes of their orgasms. Their thrusts had less urgency and their grunts were not as loud as before.
I had been vicariously enjoying their excitement, and I was aware of the effect this had had on me. My engorged helmet felt very wet inside my foreskin, as I had seeped so much lubricant that my glans was almost sloshing around inside its protective hood. Normally I don't seep much, but this scene, in which I'd been a passive participant by hugging Harold, had me very turned on.
Finally both Ed and Harold were still, the tension leaving their bodies. I sat up and watched them sinking into the daze that follows climax. Their pricks slowly began to soften, and Ed's foreskin began slipping off Harold's glans, releasing a stream of cream that formed a puddle on the bed between them. Harold's prick didn't shrink much as it softened, ending up at a limp five inches, but Ed's deflated sharply, the long foreskin forming a nipple beyond the glans.
"That was awesome," Harold whispered when he was able to speak. "I never had such a hot one in my life."
"What about the first time you came?" I asked. "Do you remember that? Most guys do because that's the hottest one they ever have."
"Yeah, the first time seemed the hottest, but it was dry, and this time it seemed like all my insides were flowing out my cock. I was just pumping all I had into Ed's skin."
"It sure felt like it," Ed acknowledged. "I felt your hot juice shooting against the front of my tip and drowning it."
"Your tip was throbbing against mine each time you shot," Harold added. "That made it even hotter for me."
"I felt your throbs too," Ed stated. "You started to come first and when I felt your big tip throbbing hard against mine, that set me off." Now they were sitting up, animatedly discussing their sensations. I knew that this had been a wonderful docking experience for them because they were very much in tune, reliving their sensations.
"Your tip was like a fire hose," Harold continued. "It was just shooting that hot juice all over mine. That was really hot!" His eyes turned toward me, and then dropped to my prick. Ed followed his gaze.
"Jack hasn't come yet," Ed commented.
"His skin still covers the tip when he's hard, like yours does," Harold observed.
"Jack could have docked you too," Ed added. "But I got there first."
"I can see how his dick is drooling," Harold said. "I'd sure like a taste of that." His eyes were fixed on my prick and he leaned closer.
"Go ahead, taste it," I urged. "There's natural lube and some of my foreskin secretion too. It's not too stale. I took a shower this morning." Harold rearranged himself on the bed and his lips moved closer to my prick. I lay back and Harold steadied my prick with his left hand at its base. Holding it upright. His tongue flicked out and touched the pucker, lapping at the wetness.
"I love that taste," he exclaimed. "It's thick like syrup, but salty." He bent down again and I felt his tongue tip probing into my foreskin, tickling my slit. His tongue circled the front dome of my glans, licking away the secretions, and then he raised his head again.
"That tasted even better," he said as he grasped my foreskin-covered glans and began sliding the hood down slightly to reveal the orifice. "His slit's different from yours," he said to Ed. "Yours is a slit, like mine. His pouts, like a teardrop."
"See if you can stick your tongue inside," Ed urged. "Jack likes that." I felt Harold's hot tongue probing into my orifice, sending hot tickles into my nerve endings, and I sighed in delight.
"I like what you're doing," I said. "Keep it up." Harold's tongue now pushed deeper into my foreskin, stretching it as he probed for my flaring rim. I felt his tongue distending my hood as it slid over the broad upper surface of my glans in its quest. Now he'd reached my corona and began sweeping his tongue down one side, reaching the thick frenulum underneath.
Harold paused there for only a second, and then began working his way up the other side. He was humming contentedly as his tongue swept around my glans, following the contours. Now he was once more at the top of my corona and I felt him push his tongue deeper yet, right into my groove. My prick jerked reflexively as I groaned in delight. Ed moved to my side and his hand snaked between my thighs to cup my sac, contracted with excitement. Harold raised his head again and asked:
"Okay if I make you come in my mouth? I'd really like to taste your cream now that I've tasted your lube and smegma. I really get off on that."
"That's fine," I answered. "Whatever turns you on."
"Do you shoot as much as Ed?" he asked.
"He often shoots even more than I do," Ed answered for me. "Now that he's been hard for longer than we have, he'll probably blast quite a load."
"I understand that," Harold said as he lowered his head once more. His fingers slid my foreskin down slowly, very slowly, to reveal the entire head. His lips closed around my helmet, following the edge of my foreskin as it retreated down my prick, until he'd engulfed my entire glans. His lips locked into the deep groove behind the corona as he held my foreskin tightly back. His tongue worked all around my glans, hitting the nerve endings as his lips tightened around my groove.
Now he began a triple action, pumping my foreskin up and down my shaft in short strokes that bumped against his lips, twisting his head, and working his tongue wildly around my helmet. I suddenly realized that things were totally out of my control. Although I was trying to remain relaxed, the triple stimulation on my prick in addition to Ed's gentle kneading of my tight sac, were bringing me inexorably to the brink. My full bladder added to the pressure, and I knew I'd be unloading within a few seconds.
My glans went into its final swelling, and my corona flared under the pressure of Harold's lips. The sideways friction from his lips inflamed the nerve endings in my rim and groove, and I felt a sharp tickle begin there. Deep inside me, I felt a drop of lubricant begin to crawl up my urethra. His tongue-tip drilled into my gaping orifice, sending more sensations into my tender tissues.
The tickling feeling expanded to fill my entire helmet from dome to rim, and then all the sensations came together and exploded. Hot sparks of sensation stabbed deeply into my swollen helmet, shooting down to the root of my prick, and I cried out as the first hard contraction overwhelmed me.
The sharp spasm deep inside me sent a jet of hot lava pouring into my urethra, and I felt it searing its way up my prick in its rush to the end. It slammed through the lips of my slit and poured into Harold's waiting mouth. I grunted as the second spasm sent another burning jet through my prick, and I felt Harold's mouth sucking hard at my throbbing helmet to draw the cream from it. He twisted his head again and another rush of sideways friction ran along my rim, triggering another spasm that made my entire body shudder.
I was floating mindlessly, totally enthralled by the shattering sensations as Harold forced another jet from my hot, hard, throbbing prick. Each ejaculation sent a hot thrill up my prick, and I was moaning helplessly as the sensations numbed my conscious thought and my body reacted by reflex. The sensations seemed to blend into one another. I was aware of Harold's lips and tongue working on my helmet; also his hand pumping my foreskin in short strokes, but I was also aware of Ed's strong fingers pulling and stretching the thick skin of my scrotum.
Now I was still writhing on the bed, moaning and shooting, but my jets were weaker, although no less pleasurable. My contractions seemed to be coming more slowly, the volume of sperm was less, and the jets no longer burned as they pumped up through my urethra.
Finally, I was still, breathing heavily and coming down off the high. My mind was in a fog, although I was aware of Ed's lips against mine, and of Harold's tongue and lips licking the residue of sperm off my prick. I felt a fingertip pressing into my urethra behind my balls, forcing the remaining fluid forward, and then working up the underside of my softening shaft. I was very aware of a large drop of fluid parting the lips of my slit as it emerged, and then of Harold's tongue lapping it up. The chlorine generated by my heavy load of sperm filled the air. When I revived enough to speak I said:
"Thanks, guys. That was out of this world."
"I really enjoyed sucking your uncut dick," Harold said in reply as he pulled my foreskin up to engulf the head once more.
"Ever suck as uncut one before?" Ed asked.
"Yeah, several years ago. I had a college roommate for a short while. He was uncut and I did him a couple of times. He didn't have a dick like you guys. His head was smaller and the skin only covered the back half of it. When he got hard his dick looked cut because the skin just stretched back along the shaft."
"I think we should hit the shower," I suggested. We got up and entered the adjoining bathroom. Ed and I had modified the shower stall, making it larger, so that several people could fit comfortably inside. By now we were all soft, and our pricks dangled in front of us. The hot water coursing down our bodies stimulated the urge to pee, and as Harold had his glans permanently exposed, he was the first to let go.
Without saying a word, Ed and I decided to give Harold a show. We grasped the ends of our foreskin nipples as we relaxed our sphincters, and Harold got a good look at how our foreskins began to bulge under the volume of the trapped urine. When our hoods were fully distended, we let go simultaneously and the trapped fluid gushed out forcefully. When our foreskins were drained we pinched them shut again and our fluid distended them.
"I never saw that before!" Harold exclaimed. "Do all uncut guys do that?" Ed and I released our hoods and went through a third cycle.
"No, not all," Ed replied, answering for us both. "We like to do it because it's fun, but some other guys might do it when they can't take a shower and want to wash the cheese from inside their hoods. Guys out hiking, hunting, or camping just might not have enough water for bathing, so they improvise like this."
"We've been doing this since we were kids," I added.
"So that's one of the wonderful things you can do when you've still got your skin," Harold concluded. By now we'd drained our bladders completely and we set about soaping each other.
"I skin back to rinse my helmet and foreskin," I explained as I demonstrated it for Harold. "However, I don't use soap. I don't need it. I'm also careful to rinse thoroughly just in case a little soap residue drips down from my body."
"Can I do you?" Harold asked, turning to Ed.
"Sure, Harold, go ahead." Ed thrust his hips forward slightly to give Harold better access to his groin and Harold's fingers wrapped around Ed's prick right behind the head, slowly drawing the long hood back over the glans. The wrinkled skin became smoother as it stretched, ending up locked behind Ed's flaring rim. The water sluicing down Ed's body rinsed his glans.
"Stretch the skin back a little more," Ed coached Harold. "Right now it's right up against my corona, and there might be a little soap trapped there." Harold pulled back on the skin of Ed's shaft, drawing the foreskin away from the rim and allowing the hot water to flow into the groove. By this time I'd pulled my foreskin down to cover my helmet and was fully rinsed.
"Can I pull your skin down now?" Harold asked Ed.
"Go right ahead. I think it's thoroughly rinsed." Harold exerted traction and Ed's foreskin bumped over his rim and rolled downhill to re-cover his glans, forming a nipple below it. I turned off the water and reached for towels outside. We dried each others' bodies and returned to the bedroom.
"Time for some sleep," Ed declared, looking at Harold. "Care to chare a bed with us?" Harold looked at the queen-size and replied:
"Okay, it looks like there's plenty of room." We quickly changed the soggy sheets and curled up together under the covers. Continued in Part 2
Note: There is a Department of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) but the Special Operations Section is a product of my imagination created for the purpose of the story. Probably there is a corresponding section in ICE, but with a different name. The "9/11 Task Force" is also a fictional creation, but there have been rumors of the special treatment accorded terrorists secretly held in secret prisons for protracted and painful interrogation.