Arrest Record, Part 11 By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com
The following morning we followed the usual procedure of having room service deliver breakfast to our room, from which Harold carried the tray for three next door. As it was early, and we felt more confident, we decided to change our tactics somewhat. Harold, Ed, Adams, Spicer, and I decided to go down for breakfast, as we knew that Ted would immediately notify us on the portable radio if there had been any contact.
We spread out individually around the parking lot and the adjacent street to observe for activity and possible surveillance. None of us noticed anyone who appeared to be watching the hotel or its occupants. After several minutes of casual searching we converged on the dining room.
"Ted and Paul seem pretty sharp," Ed told us. "I didn't like them at first but they carry their weight and their takedown technique is better than ours."
"Ted gave us a frightening picture of what these guys might be up to," Harold said. "I'm sorry to say it but I think he's right."
"He sure made a lot of sense," Adams agreed.
"Still, these terrorists are forcing us to play by their rules," Spicer pointed out. "I like the American system of trial by jury, with all its drawbacks. Ted and Paul snatch a guy, drug and question him, and then send him off with a bullet in the head. That bothers me."
"I sympathize with you," I said. "Still, remember we don't play by all their rules. We don't kill innocent people." We were halfway through the meal by then, and my portable radio buzzed. I answered it and told the others:
"Ted said the contact called and he'll be here by ten. We've got time to finish." In a few more minutes we were done and went back to our respective rooms. At 9:30 we heard footsteps in the hall and a knock on the door of the room next door. There was the sound of a scuffle and we bolted from our room to see what had happened. Inside Amir's room Ted and Paul stood over a neatly dressed gray-haired man in a suit who was lying dazed on the carpet.
"I guess he came early," said Spicer, who had followed on our heels with Adams. Ted rolled the man over and our eyes went to the oblong gold badge he wore under his breast pocket. Harold read it and swore:
"Holy shit, `MANAGER'."
We looked at each other anxiously. It took a few seconds for us to shake off the shock and decide what to do.
"Let's carry him into our room," Ed suggested. "We've got to get him out of sight." Ed and I picked the man up and carried him back to our room, placing him on the bed. Adams and Spicer followed us and Tec and Paul got ready to receive another visitor.
"Bad luck," I concluded. "Bad luck, the guy chose to knock on that door at the wrong moment."
"What did he want, anyway?" Adams asked.
"Who the fuck knows? Who the fuck cares?" Ed replied. The main thing is we assaulted an innocent person, and now we've got to explain the mistake to him and hope he keeps his mouth shut and doesn't file a complaint and doesn't sue. We could be up shit creek over this. This could blow our whole operation."
"I hope nobody suggests that we just make this guy disappear," Spicer said. We turned to look at him.
"Well, this is the acid test, isn't it?" I said. "Now you'll find out if we kill innocent people like the terrorists do." As I finished we heard more footsteps in the hall and another knock at Amir's door. We heard the door open and then the thud of a body hitting the floor. I waved to Harold to stay behind and we all rushed next door. A tough-looking bearded man of about 20 or 25 lay on the floor, dressed in a windbreaker. At least this guy wasn't wearing a manager's tag.
"He tried to fight us," Ted began. "I've never seen a guy with faster reactions than this bozo. I had to thump him on the head so Paul could get the needle into him." Amir was standing by the far wall, a look of shock on his face.
"I'd better give him another dose, and we'd better forget about walking him out of here," Paul told us. He knelt beside the newcomer and injected the contents of another syringe into his vein.
"Now we've got two problems, or maybe three," Ed said with disgust. "Look, we'd better go downstairs, nice and easy, and make sure there's no surveillance on this building. Then once we're satisfied that we're clean, we carry this guy down the back way and load him in a car. Ted and Paul can take care of him from that point." We all nodded that we understood, and I went back to the room to explain the latest events to Harold. I told him we'd be scrutinizing the area and that he was to stay with the manager.
Our careful search for surveillance turned up negative, and we felt more comfortable as we loaded the latest terrorist into a car for the trip to the airport. Then we trooped back to the room while Ted and Paul drove to the airport.
"I hope you see that this was an innocent mistake," we heard Harold say as we entered. The manager was sitting up on the bed still looking a bit foggy, but he appeared to understand Harold's words. Harold sat next to him, looking anxious.
"I had to explain the situation to him," Harold told us as we gathered around the bed. We understood the implications without being told. Now the manager knew about the operation and its implications, and we had to trust him to avoid revealing this information to the media and even his family.
There was still some coffee left on the room service tray next door, and I hurried to get it, hoping it was still hot. I came back to hear the manager's voice:
"I understand. I had a cousin who almost got killed in the World Trade Center. I know how important this is." I handed him the coffee and he nodded gratefully.
"Why did you come up here, anyway?" Ed asked him, and went on to explain that this had been the first time any such mishap had happened.
"Mr. Khaled's credit card expires today. The credit card company is being bitchy about it and won't accept it as payment." Khaled was Amir's last name, at least the one he was using in America, and we looked at each other.
"Put his room on our bill," I told him. "The government credit card is good."
Later, Ed and I went to Amir's room. Amir was distressed by the morning's events.
"What happened with the manager?" We asked him.
"There was a knock on the door, and when I opened it Ted and Paul jumped out from behind the door and pulled the man into the room. Ted kicked his legs out from under him and they put him on the floor. Then Paul injected him." It was easy to understand what has happened. Ted and Paul had been primed to expect Amir's contact, and had had no inkling that the manager would pay them an unannounced visit.
"What about your credit card?" I asked. The arrangement had been that Amir would pay for his expenses with his credit card and that the government would cover the amount when the bill came due.
"I am supposed to receive my new card in the mail but you know that I haven't been home lately," he told us. This was an administrative slip that could have destroyed our entire operation.
"We have to get him his new card," Ed said. "I'll have our people in San Diego go to his apartment and check his mail." He left to coordinate the operation.
"It's essential that you show your credit card when you check in," I explained. "We don't know if the desk clerk at any of these hotels is working for the terrorists and if you used a credit card we gave you it might blow the whole operation. Now let's pack and get on the road again. Next stop is Chicago, and we have three days to make it."
Back on the road again, we took I-76 diagonally up to I-80, which goes straight through Nebraska. During the drive the word reached Ed over the radio that indeed Amir's credit card had arrived at his apartment, and that the San Diego office would assign one of its agents to deliver it at our next stop. We had plenty of time and we decided to stop in Omaha, taking a hotel downtown. As this was not a contact point we pad for Amir's room with a government credit card, certain that it would not interfere with our operation.
After checking in we walked around the old town, stopping for dinner at a pleasant pizza shop in a quaint old turn of the century building. Adams and Spicer sat with us, as did Ted and Paul, who had flown in that afternoon. After our pizzas had been delivered to the table, a homeless man shambled in, begging for food at several tables. When he came to ours Ted gave him a slice. I'd pegged Ted as a pretty hard-boiled type, and this demonstration of compassion surprised me.
Back at the hotel we went to our respective rooms. As there was no contact expected, we let Amir have a room to himself. Ted and Paul shared a room, Adams and Spicer another, and Harold, Ed, and I shared a third. Our room had two queen size beds but we didn't undress, as we were expecting the courier with Amir's credit card that evening.
Shortly before nine there was a knock at the door and Ed went to open it. A young blond guy about Harold's age stood there, and when Harold saw him he jumped up, saying:
"George!" Harold embraced him warmly, and made the introductions.
"We went through the FLETC (Federal Law Enforcement Training Center) together," Harold explained. Turning to George, he added: "Ed and Jack are uncut! They've got really long skins." George seemed to be a bit confused, as we were.
"We played around together while we were in training," Harold added.
"Glad to meet you," Ed said, extending his hand. "Any friend of Harold's is a friend of ours."
"We've been having a good time with Harold since he joined our unit," I told George.
"Do you have to be back right away?" Ed asked George, who replied:
"No, I flew in on a DHS airplane and I told the pilots we'd be staying the night so they got themselves a hotel somewhere near the airport. We'll be flying back to San Diego at nine. I figured I'd get a room here after handing over the credit card to you guys." He reached into a side pocket of his sport jacket and produced an envelope. I laid it on the table to give to Amir in the morning.
"You're welcome to stay with us," Ed told him. "You won't have to go down and check in."
"You'll enjoy it too," Harold added invitingly.
"I'd really like to," George replied with a bright smile. I began to strip down and Ed and the others followed a moment later. George's eyes were fixed on Ed and me, while we watched George. He was about our height, six feet, muscular, with blond hair and gray eyes. As he dropped his boxer shorts I noted that his prick was large when limp. He was a "shower," not a "grower" as the rest of us were. His shaft was thick, tapering down to a small glans that was red, not pink, ahead of a thick circumcision scar. George's eyes went to Harold's prick, covered by a condom.
"What's that for?" he asked.
"Getting the skin cut off made the head dry out. I keep a lubed condom on 24/7 to make my tip more sensitive. I found even wearing it a week gave me results."
"Do you take it off to pee?" George asked.
"No, I cut off the nipple end and when I have to go I just make sure the hole in the condom's aligned with my hole. No problem."
"Maybe I'll try that too," George said. "I always felt my cock wasn't sensitive enough, especially compared to uncut guys. Sometimes it's hard for me to come."
"Let's pair off," Harold suggested. "We've got two uncut guys and two cut guys who love uncut cocks." He moved toward Ed, and George stepped close to me, reaching for my prick. He grasped my foreskin's nipple between thumb and forefinger and lifted my prick.
"You're got a long tight skin, the kind I like," he said. My foreskin was marginally longer than Ed's and significantly tighter. I grasped his small glans and began squeezing it rhythmically to get him going. His prick sprung to attention within seconds.
"You've got about six inches," I commented. "So do we."
"I know Harold's got six inches from when we played together before," he said. I saw that George's prick had a slight upward bow extending upward from his blond pubic hair. By this time I was fully erect, with my foreskin extending over my bulging helmet to form a pucker in front.
"Man, you've got a lot of skin and a big head on your cock," he observed. "Does the skin always cover the head or does it come back?"
"Try it and see," I urged. "Just hold it around the head and push the foreskin back." He did as I had suggested and I felt the end of my foreskin stretch as the orifice rode back over the front dome of my helmet. He pushed back a little more and paused.
"That's a nice big hole you've got," he commented. "It looks like a teardrop."
"My cream comes out in thick streams," I said.
"You've got a big flaring rim too," he declared. "Does your skin go back behind it?" By contrast, George's corona was rather flat, not flaring.
"It goes back and locks behind the rim," I told him. At the edge of my vision I saw that Ed and Harold had already gotten down on their bed and were in a "69" position, with Harold's mouth over the end of Ed's prick. George nudged my foreskin farther back until it rode over the flare of my corona and dropped into the deep groove behind it. I looked down at his prick and saw that he had a small tight slit.
"I love the smell of your cock," he said. "I wish mine smelled that way. The doctor cut me when I was a baby and I've always wished I still had my skin."
"You can play with mine all you want," I told him.
"Is the skin stuck behind the head?" he asked. "That's such a high rim."
"No," I answered him. "It's tight, but you can pull it forward again. He did, and my foreskin stretched over the corona and rode back down the taper of my helmet to cover it again.
"Man, what a toy to play with," he said. "I'd like to suck it, just suck the come right out of it." We sat on the bed and his head came down into my lap. Suddenly Harold was standing next to us, holding the bottle of Astroglide out to me.
"George likes hand jobs, like I do. You can give a terrific hand job." I took the bottle from him and squirted George's penis with it, and then wrapped my right hand around it to spread the lubricant. His flesh was very warm to the touch. I felt George's tongue probe into the pucker of my foreskin as Harold went back to Ed. George and I assumed a "69" position and worked at stimulating each other for a couple of minutes. George pushed his tongue deeper into my hood, tickling my slit. I stroked his prick steadily, twisting my fist around the small glans at the top of the stroke.
"You're really turning me on," George said. "Can we take a break and watch Harold and Ed?" We sat up to look at the scene on the other bed. Harold now had Ed on his back, and was giving him a fast up-and-down pumping action with his mouth on the glans while pumping his foreskin up and over his rim. Ed still held on to Harold's condom-covered prick, but it was clear that Ed would come first. Ed's jaw clenched but his eyes stayed open. He was breathing heavily and his balls were tight against his body.
"I never sucked an uncut dick," George confessed. "I'm learning something. I saw only a couple of uncut dicks while we were at the training center. They were Hispanic guys. Harold and I really envied those guys." I kept fondling George's prick and he kept sliding my foreskin up and down, in short slow strokes.
"Ed blows a heavy load," I advised him. "His legs are trembling now. He'll shoot any second." As I finished speaking Ed's body grew visibly tenser, and then we heard him yelp loudly. Harold's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the first ejaculation. Ed's hips bucked, driving his prick deeper into Harold's mouth and Harold swallowed again amid Ed's joyous grunts. Ed yelped a third time and now Harold removed his mouth, yanking Ed's foreskin back behind the flaring purple corona.
"Ed's prick gets too sensitive after about three shots, like mine," I explained to George. Ed grunted again and his wetly glimmering glans expelled another torrent of cream between Harold's waiting lips. George's eyes were riveted on Ed's straining prick as it discharged jet after jet. Harold kept the tension on Ed's skin and the tautness of the frenulum made the big helmet dip. The back face of the rim was so dark it seemed almost black.
"Harold's keeping his mouth close to drink all Ed's sperm," I commented. "He's careful not to touch the tip or rub the foreskin against it." Ed's jets tapered off to a slow dribble and Harold just held his penis as he waited for it to soften.
"Is Ed going to do Harold now?" George asked me.
"As soon as he recovers," I answered. After another minute Ed's breathing had slowed to normal and he got up on one elbow and kissed Harold's lips. Harold milked his prick and bent down to lap up the residue. Then Ed pushed him flat on the bed and began stroking his prick with one hand while cupping his balls with the other. He used the condom as an artificial foreskin, pumping it up and down the shaft and head.
"You'll see Harold's helmet get darker even through the latex the more excited he gets," I advised George. "Ed's pretty good with his hands."
"I see Ed's giving him that twisting stroke we both like," George commented. "That really feels good, fingers going around the head and rim. Harold's got a big rim, too, like you and Ed."
"Since Harold's not as sensitive as Ed and me, Ed's going to continue stroking him after he starts to come," I said. Harold was breathing hard now, and his face had turned ruddy.
"Harold shoots a big load too," George told me.
"Harold's helmet just got darker purple," I advised George. "He'll be blowing his load any second." Harold's stomach muscles visibly tightened, and now he was breathing in great ragged gasps, drawn inexorably toward the brink.
We heard Harold cry out as we saw his prick erupt in a long thick jet of cream that shot out of the opening in the end of the condom. Ed's mouth was poised above the glans and he swallowed the ejaculation. Ed's fist kept flying over the end of his prick, squeezing and twisting to intensify Harold's sensations.
"Harold's cock really throbbed hard in my hand when I used to do him," George murmured. "I really felt him come." He gave my prick a squeeze through the enveloping skin as he spoke. Harold shot again and Ed swallowed it. Harold's head rocked from side to side as he continued pouring out his juice. He cried out again in blissful agony, shattered by the fury of the orgasm. The odor of Harold's chlorine cream filled the air.
"I hope your big tip throbs hard in my mouth when you come," George whispered in my ear. He gave my prick another squeeze and I returned the favor. Now Harold's ejaculations were less intense, but Ed kept pumping his prick to squeeze the last drops out of him as he licked at the orifice. When Harold had stopped dribbling Ed milked his prick from behind the scrotum all the way forward, squeezing out the last drops and swallowing them, although some of the residue had seeped down inside the sheath. George and I were still stroking each other's pricks, but now George turned toward me and said:
"Now it's our turn to put on a show for them." He pushed me flat on the bed and lowered his head. I saw Ed turn to watch and a few seconds later Harold propped himself up on one elbow.
"Use your lips on the front of the head and pump the skin, like you saw me do to Ed," Harold coached George. "That action gets them off and shooting." George's ringers tightened around my foreskin, still covering the glans, and I felt it roll back. His warm lips closed over my front dome and he began twisting his head from side to side, an improvement on what Harold had done to Ed's prick. I took a deep breath as he started pumping my foreskin up and down over my rim, bumping against it and then compressing its many nerve endings as he brought it up over my corona. His other hand cupped my tight sac. I kept my hold on his lubricated prick, sliding my fist up and down in long slow strokes but not twisting.
"Make Jack come first," urged Harold. He came over to sit beside me, both hands caressing my nipples. Ed sat on a corner of the bed to get a closer view. George lifted his head for a moment to say:
"I'm going to work my tongue inside his hole." And then engulfed my front dome again as I felt his tongue drilling into my orifice.
"You won't be able to get your tongue as far inside it as I did to Ed," Harold informed him. "Jack's hole pouts, but Ed's slit is longer."
"That felt good, when you worked your tongue inside my slit," Ed told him.
"It was tasty, too," Harold replied. "Your lube tastes slippery and salty."
"About now you should feel the head getting fatter," Ed said to George. "It should feel harder too. Jack's pretty close."
"Any second he'll close his eyes," Harold added. "He always does that when he's ready to shoot." Harold was absolutely right. I felt my excitement mounting, and when George's fist began giving my foreskin a twisting action as he pumped it, I felt the intense tickle begin in my rim. His tongue continued to play with my orifice while his lips caressed my front dome, and the tickle spread all over my straining helmet. I closed my eyes.
"His eyes just closed," commented Ed. "Any second now and he'll drown you with his come." My breathing was heavy, and I felt my body tensing involuntarily, although I was trying to relax and prolong the delicious feeling of anticipation. It was not to be. My glans ached for release, and within seconds the intense tickle had changed to a hot tingle, and I was on my way. I felt a momentary jolt of sensation as George's teeth grazed my swollen glans.
I cried out as hot sparks of sensation stabbed deeply into my glans from both top and bottom, and a sharp contraction inside me sent the first hot torrent hurtling up my prick. I felt it searing its way up my tube and then a slight tickle as it rounded the gentle upward curve in my glans before slamming through the lips of my slit.
George's fist pumped and twisted my foreskin as his lips twirled around the front of my helmet, sending more triggering sensations down my prick. A second spasm shook me and another jet of cream pulsed up my straining prick, erupting into his mouth. I was crying out and grunting in mindless abandon, unaware of anything except the beautiful sensations that wracked my body.
My hips bucked as the third contraction hit me, and I was lost in the fury of my orgasm. Now I felt my foreskin being drawn all the way down and George's lips locking behind my bare corona. My tip suddenly became over-sensitive, and I yelped loudly as another heavy throb filled my prick.
George pulled his lips back, but still twisted my fully retracted foreskin to give me another jolt of sensation. The root of my prick responded, and I felt another gush pouring upward through my straining shaft and glans. George gave the skin of my prick a few more backward yanks, tugging on my gee-string, and I felt my helmet dipping in response. Although I was still jetting, the volume was less. My orgasm was fading, and soon I was utterly still, dazed by the aftershock.
I was aware that George was kissing me in the lips, and that Harold was still caressing my chest. As I returned to full awareness I hugged George and then pushed him flat on the bed. Harold moved into position to cup George's scrotum, which was already tight. Ed slid in on the other side and caressed his nipples.
"Now it's your turn," I said as I grasped his prick and began administering long strokes from base to tip, twisting my fist at the end. George had been without orgasm the longest and he was very hot. He sighed at each stroke, and then his body began to shudder when I twisted my fist around the end of his tapered prick. His face flushed, his fists clenched, and his breathing became very rapid.
"With three guys working on me, I won't last long," George announced to us.
"Watch out, he shoots high," warned Harold. "That small hole of his really builds up the pressure." I kept my head out of the way as I felt Harold's shaft stiffen further and his small glans hardened between my fingers. His engorged flesh felt hot in my hand, partly because of the blood flow and partly because of the friction that was fueling his excitement.
George was climbing the slope quickly, and I became caught up in his excitement as I increased my pace and squeezed his prick more tightly. I saw a drop of clear fluid seeping through the tight slit, and I knew our combined efforts were having an effect on him. Tension filled my body as I stroked his hot hard prick with trembling encircling fingers. Several more drops of lube seeped from his orifice, blending smoothly with the Astroglide, keeping his hot prick well lubricated. George was right on the brink now.
He yelped as I felt a massive throb in his penis. A long thin squirt of white cream shot about three feet into the air as we watched, arcing down to fall on his chest. Now he sobbed as another thin jet erupted from his prick. I felt each throb as the jets pulsed through his prick and I knew he was experiencing the sublime sensations he'd given me minutes before. With another agonized cry, George discharged another load that sprayed upward and came down on his abdomen, my forearm, and fist. The heavy chlorine odor of his semen filled the room and I knew that Ed and Harold smelled it as well.
I kept pumping his prick hard, twisting my fist around the end where I caressed the head and the sensitive tissue between the scar and rim. George continued moaning as his prick throbbed repeated in my fingers. The jets weren't flying as far now, and I knew he was almost drained. A few more thin jets erupted before his prick settled down to a steady seep. Because of the lessened sensitivity of his prick, I had no problem in milking him down, aided by Harold who forced the fluid out of his posterior urethra. Ed handed me some tissues and I wiped his prick as he lay there dazed.
We all clustered on the bed as George returned to full awareness. We hugged and kissed, rejoicing in the good fortune that had gathered us there for an evening of hot pleasure. Then we went to our respective beds and dropped off to sleep, fulfilled and eager to face the coming day.
Continued in Part 12