Arrest Record, Part 10 By Jacksantoro1@ yahoo.com
We got away early the following morning, shooting up I-25 towards Denver. Driving through northern New Mexico was very pleasant, as there was hardly any traffic north of Santa Fe. By this time we were very well coordinated, and we drove with Amir leading by several miles and we took turns closing with him and dropping back to make sure nobody else was shadowing him. In the sparse traffic, we were one hundred percent certain that he did not have a tail on him.
We stopped at Springer, a small town some miles south of the Colorado state line, for brunch, including delicious Colombian coffee. Then we got on the road again, and we arrived at our destination in Denver shortly before 2 P.M., having avoided the horrendous traffic jam north of Colorado Springs. Amir was already in his room and again Ted and Paul joined him. We'd decided that their technique of taking down a suspect was the best, and they happily agreed to take this duty for the rest of the operation. Adams and Spicer took a room down the hall and Harold, Ed, and I took the room next door.
The contact was supposed to phone Amir the next day, which meant that we had the afternoon free. Our room had two queen size beds and we stripped down and sat down on the edge of the one nearest the door.
"I bet you and Ed had some fun together," said Harold.
"We did," I replied. "We went head to head."
"That's nice but I really love sucking on those uncut cocks," Harold said. His prick was already half-swollen with anticipation. "I love sticking my tongue inside those long skins." He bent over and took my soft prick into his mouth. I felt his tongue probing the end of my foreskin nipple, working its way inside. My prick rose to meet him and as it firmed up his tongue-tip insinuated itself deeper until it was tickling my slit. Ed reached down and began squeezing Harold's big circumcised helmet, bringing it to full hardness. We'd let Harold bring us both to orgasm first while we maintained his erection with the squeezes.
Squeezing his tip stimulated the bulbo-cavernal reflex deep inside him, making his prick throb and keeping him hard. However, there was no danger of him shooting off prematurely with this technique. We wanted to keep him hard as long as possible while he extracted our orgasms from us because we knew that the longer his period of excitement, the harder and more intense his orgasm would be.
"Harold's always got good technique," Ed commented as he watched Harold work on my prick. Now Harold was holding my prick by the shaft with his right hand to steady it while he pushed his tongue farther into my hood. His left hand cupped my balls, which were rapidly tightening against my body as my excitement mounted. I lay flat on my back, enjoying the sensations.
"I lay on my back too when he does me," Ed added. "I'm just like you. My legs turn to jelly when I come." Now Harold's thick tongue was stretching my long hood as it worked around my rim, stretching the nerve endings and making me sigh with delight. The thick warm tip of his tongue lovingly caressed my rim and then worked down to the underside, strumming my frenulum and making me gasp.
Now Harold was ready to bring me to the peak, for his strong fingers stripped my hood back from the head, revealing the flaring corona and the deep groove behind it. His lips locked behind my rim and he began twisting his head, providing the delicious sideways friction that accelerated my climb to the summit. I felt my prick swelling even more, becoming more rigid as it attained its final hardness. Harold lifted his head for a moment and I felt him start to pump my foreskin in short strokes over the rim as he spoke:
"I felt your helmet getting harder. It's really dark purple now and You're ready to shoot your cream. I'll give you the same double action as before because I know that really turns you and Ed on." His lips closed over the blunt front dome of my helmet, continuing the same sideways friction he'd been giving my corona, and his fingers kept up the pumping action, bringing my thick fleshy hood rolling up over my flaring rim and back down again. This was a very effective technique because while his lips were giving me a tickling feeling in my dome, a similar intense tickle was developing in my crown.
My eyes closed as my breathing became more rapid under the intense stimulation. Harold's technique was very hot and I knew that, although I was trying to stay relaxed, he'd have me over the top within seconds. The tickling feeling in my helmet spread and I felt my legs start trembling as the orgasm approached.
The tickle grew si intense that I began moaning, and then it felt like my entire helmet exploded in sensation. Hot sparks shot through it, producing an intense tingle that made me cry out in joyful agony as it triggered the reflex deep inside me. The first spasm went through me like a hot wave and I felt my urethra fill with burning liquid that shot up my prick, slamming through the pouting lips of my orifice and into Harold's mouth.
I cried out again as another spasm shook me and sent the second hot torrent gushing up through my straining prick. The combination of Harold's hot lips on my tip and the rolling, compressing action of my hood around the rim fueled my fire, and I shuddered with another hot ejaculation.
Now my helmet suddenly became very sensitive, too sensitive to tolerate continued friction, but Harold sensed this and removed his lips from its dome as he yanked my foreskin back hard to bare the entire glans and groove. The tension stretched the nerve endings inside my foreskin and frenulum. Another spasm wracked me deep inside, and the fourth discharge blew through my turgid and throbbing prick. I grunted hard as another load poured up my urethra, and I felt a momentary flick of Harold's tongue as he deftly licked it from my pouting meatus.
Several more contractions expelled the last of my load and my orgasm stopped, fading into nothingness as my tortured body began to relax. I floated in the limbo of the afterglow, gradually returning to full consciousness, and finally I opened my eyes and said:
"That was awesome, exciting, really heavenly." Harold leaned toward my face, kissing me tenderly on the lips, and I hugged him to be for almost a minute. I heard Ed's voice in the background:
"You really blew your load there. He drained you." Now Harold began milking my urethra, pushing out the residue that he avidly licked from my slit as it emerged. My tip had lost its excessive sensitivity as my prick had softened, and the sensation was very pleasant. When he'd drained me he gently pulled my foreskin up to cover the head and turned his attention to Ed, who was still gently and rhythmically squeezing his glans.
Harold's helmet was a beautiful purple, fully distended, and I took over squeezing it as Ed lay flat on his back and parted his legs. A drop of clear liquid had parted the lips of Harold's long slit, and I licked it away, relishing its salty taste, as Harold turned his attentions to Ed's hot hard prick. Ed's foreskin still covered the entire head, forming a pucker in front, as Harold began working his tongue inside the orifice. I watched Ed's pucker stretch as Harold's tongue probed deeply, seeking out his slit. Ed sighed as Harold's tongue-tip traced small circles around his slit.
Now Harold slipped his hand between Ed's thighs, cupping his balls, which were already tight from excitement. I saw Harold's tongue pushing farther into Ed's foreskin, stretching it as it probed for the large nerve-studded corona. Harold's tongue swirled around the head, caressing the sides as well as the rim, and then I saw the distention of the foreskin under the head as Harold swiped his tongue across Ed's gee-string.
"Awwww, that feels so good," Ed moaned as Harold kept stimulating his hot spots. Now Harold slowly skinned him back and the gloriously purple helmet came into view, wet and inviting.
"I love that smell," Harold exclaimed as the hot man smell from Ed's glans and foreskin filled the air.
"It is sexy," I agreed. "Now do the same to him as you did to me." Harold stretched Ed's foreskin all the way back, baring the deep groove behind the head, and I saw that Ed's helmet was so dark a shade of purple that the back of the rim was almost black.
"His dick and tip are so hard now," Harold murmured just before lowering his lips to engulf the front dome of the glans. His right hand began to pump Ed's foreskin, bringing it up over the flaring corona and then back down, caressing and compressing the many nerve endings inside it. He now twisted his head to give Ed the same delicious sideways friction that had helped drive me over the edge, and Ed started moaning. He'd been hard longer than I had, and was primed for orgasm. It would take Harold less time to make him come than it has taken for me.
I watched, fascinated, as Harold lovingly ministered to Ed's prick. I kept squeezing Harold's glans, giving him the sensations he needed to remain fully hard as he concentrated on his task. Ed's head rocked from side to side, and I saw his legs begin to tremble. Ed's moans grew louder and I knew he was on his way.
Ed cried out suddenly and I saw Harold's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. He skinned Ed's prick back and lifted his head slightly, and I saw the bottom of the helmet, wet and throbbing. Ed grunted hard and Harold swallowed again. Ed's fists clenched as he shot his third load into Harold's waiting mouth, and then Harold lifted his head. He had Ed's prick skinned all the way back, and I saw the dark purple helmet dip as the tension on the gee-string pulled it down. Another jet erupted from the long slit, shooting into Harold's waiting lips.
Ed's straining prick spewed another load, and the odor of chlorine filled the air. Despite my very recent orgasm, I felt my prick stirring at the exciting spectacle. Ed's wet purple helmet strained as it shot another rope of cream into Harold's mouth, and then began a steady dribble. Thick cream seeped between the long lips as Harold's tongue-tip flicked delicately over them, lapping up the savory juice. The discharge lost its milkiness, and I knew that Ed had drained his tanks.
Ed was very still as his prick began to subside. I asked Harold:
"Do you want me to make you come now, or wait until Ed's fully recovered?" I thought that, as he'd been hard the longest, he might be urgently needing relief.
"I can wait a couple of minutes," he said. "I know Ed would love to watch."
I got up and retrieved a bottle of Astroglide from my bag and squirted a few drops on Harold's large, bulging helmet, spreading it lightly over the contours but being careful not to apply any pressure. I wanted Harold to last until Ed was able to witness his climax, because we all enjoyed the others' orgasms vicariously
"Hey, Harold, that was wonderful," Ed said as he got up on an elbow and leaned over Harold, who had meanwhile taken a supine position on the bed. He kissed Harold on the lips and then reached down to cup his tight sac.
"Now it's your turn, buddy, and we're going to give you a hot one." Now that Ed was actively taking part, I grasped Harold's prick behind the head with my right hand and began stroking the lubricated organ, working up from the circumcision scar to compress and caress the rim with the sideways stroke that turned us all on powerfully. I placed my left palm over the front dome of Harold's helmet and began working in small circles, giving him additional stimulation. The twisting action focused on the scar ring and the sensitive tissues between it and the rim, as well as the nerve studded corona itself.
"That really gets to me," Harold whispered as his body absorbed the sensations. "I love what you're doing to me." Ed's skilled fingers gently kneaded Harold's testicles inside their tight sac.
Harold's engorged glans felt hard in my encircling fingers, and it had darkened a couple of shades since I'd begun. I knew he was in the final stage of excitement before release, and his prick was no doubt aching for relief. I kept working my palm over the front of his lubricated glans and felt more lube seeping from his slit to make it more slippery. I saw his stomach muscles tighten, and his lips drew back from his teeth.
Harold's sudden cry filled the air as his prick throbbed in my hand. A thick gush of hot cream spurted against my palm as he blew his first load. I saw the thick white discharge leaking from between my palm and his front dome as his straining prick throbbed again and added to the volume. I kept up the twisting action on his scar and rim, feeding his sensations, and felt another throb as the odor of chlorine hit my nostrils. Harold's cream was now flowing down his helmet, seeping between my fingers as I massaged his prick. The thick fluid served as lubricant and his shaft and rim became very slick as I continued to stroke them.
"Beautiful," Ed said. Ed's eyes, like mine, were fixed on Harold's handsome prick, with its big purple helmet standing out proudly at the top of his straight shaft, pumping out its fluids.
Harold was moaning steadily now, completely submerged in the sensations of his orgasm, and I felt his prick throb again and again. Each throb was slightly weaker than the last, until they eased altogether. Ed and I exchanged glances, awed at having witnessed Harold's orgasm. It was always the same. We never ceased to be enthralled by giving another man an orgasm and watching its effects.
Ed's glance dropped to my groin, where I had a full erection just from watching and feeling Harold lose his load. I knew I wasn't ready to unload again so soon after having drained myself, but the vicarious thrill I'd gotten from bringing him to climax had had its effect on me. Ed felt some of this too, because I noted that his helmet was bulging through the long covering tube of skin.
We hugged and kissed on the bed for several minutes, happy that we had shared the joy of orgasm together. I was very gratified that Ed, Harold, and I got along very well professionally as well as physically. I think they were too.
After a short rest, we showered and got dressed again. Harold drove to the airport, as the Gulfstream had followed us, to get the latest transcripts and any other information that had arrived. Later, we met in the hotel dining room, after having provided for dinner for two to be sent up to us, which I delivered to Amir's room so that he and Paul could eat. After placing our orders, we began panning the next stage in the operation. Harold kicked off the discussion with his report:
"The transcripts didn't show anything interesting, but we tracked down the person in Albuquerque whose phone number Habash had in his personal phone book. We placed a tap on it but there was no conversation that indicated he had any task to watch the contact there. We'll continue the tap in case this guy's connected with a terrorist cell there."
"If he is," I said, "we should take him down in a few days so that we could question him and maybe find out more. We could ask him about other members of his cell, and of course track them through their phone numbers too. Searching his place might turn up something interesting, like it did with Habash."
"We hit Habash pretty hard with the drugs," Ted told us. "He's young, and his system can stand up well to the combination of stimulants and depressives we pumped into him. We got a couple of names out of him, but we don't think we ought to act right now. Arresting too many people might alert the people who control the network, and we'd lose half of them because they'd run for cover."
"I'll buy that," Ed said. "I think we'd better round up the members who were ready to act on this phase before we try anything more extensive. Anyway, this is just my guess, and I'll admit it's a calculated risk."
"We've got one sure thing going for us," Ted interjected. "We've got the canisters and they don't. That's our big safety valve, even if everything else goes to shit."
"Anything new about those canisters?" I asked Harold. We'd sent them back east for scrutiny by scientists at Fort Detrick, the U. S. Army's biological warfare center. "Nothing definite," he answered. The report I received stated that it's something they've never seen before. It's certainly not one of ours. It resembles the Ebola Virus a little." This news was scary. Ebola was as deadly as HIV, faster acting, and much more contagious. "Well, now we know they didn't steal it from us," Ted concluded. "That's both good news and bad news," Ed told him. "It means our biological warfare security is good, but it also means that they got it from someplace else. Right now we have no way of telling what their source was. It could have been the Russians, the Chinese, or several other possible sources." "On top of that," I contributed, " we absolutely have no way of telling if they have any more of this stuff, or if that was all they had. Maybe they shot their load, or maybe not." This was the big unknown, and it weighed on all our minds. "It doesn't take all that much to set up a clandestine biological laboratory, and slightly more to set up a production facility, Ed said. "With all the anxiety about terrorists obtaining nuclear weapons, the real threat is biological ones. They're much easier to produce from scratch. You need a tremendous industrial plant to make nukes. We know that people from Middle Eastern countries have gone to college in America and in Europe, studying microbiology. They've learned enough to start a program for a terrorist organization." "I can believe that," Ted said. "There's another reason this worries me. "More than any other type of weapon, biological ones are indiscriminate. There's a real danger of blowback." "Blowback?" Harold asked.
"Yeah, that's when it comes back to you," Ted replied. "Even nuclear weapons are local in effect, except for the fallout plume. Chemical weapons dissipate quickly. Biologicals, though, can spread literally all over the world, and this is why the countries that had them in both world wars didn't dare use them. Throw some shit at your enemy and next week it comes back to infect you. National boundaries don't stop them. Neither does barbed wire."
"I read something a few years ago about the ideal biological weapon," Spicer said. "It would have to be fatal or severely disabling, very contagious, and have a long incubation period. That way, infected people would continue spreading it before they got sick, and then there would be mass casualties."
"Do you think terrorists are more likely to prefer biological weapons," Adams asked.
"I think they do," Ted elaborated. "That's what scares me. I don't mind admitting I'm scared. Remember, they didn't use them in the big wars because they were afraid of blowback? Well, the terrorists don't see it that way. They don't care if their own people get infected and die. They'd be martyrs for the cause. They don't care if innocent people die. To them, that's okay because they've said `Nobody is neutral,' and they mean exactly that."
"They're not the only ones who think that way," I told him. "In this country, some political movements have used slogans like If you're not part of the solution you're part of the problem' and You're either for us or against us,' and similar slogans."
"That's right," said Ted. "Some people used slogans like that, but they didn't kill people. The terrorists will. Hell, they'll sacrifice their own lives, so they won't hesitate to sacrifice others, even their own relatives."
"Fuck me," said Ed. "This is hopeless." I didn't say anything, but I, too, felt a pang of despair.
"No, I don't think it's hopeless," responded Ted. "They want us to think it's hopeless. You know, I lost my wife in the 9/11 attack, and for a while I was depressed and thought it was hopeless. I was wrong. If we give in to that, they win. We can't let them win."
"Yes, they're human beings like us, they bleed the same when cut, but their way of thinking is alien," I said.
"Well, I'd better get back," Ted announced. "I've still got to set up the tape recorder and headphones on the room telephone. Amir's contact will be calling tomorrow and I want to be ready."
Continued in Part 11