Arrest Record, Part 12 By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com
We got up the following morning and went out for breakfast early, as George had to board his executive jet for a 9 A.M. departure back to San Diego. Then we gathered in Amir's room to plan our day. We decided that, as Amir's next contact, in the Chicago area, was not until the day after the next, we had time to alter our plan slightly.
Ted and Paul would lead in their car, staying a couple of miles ahead of Amir, to watch for fixed surveillance along the route. We didn't really expect any, but it was a good exercise. Amir would be next, followed by Spicer and Adams in their car, and Harold, George, and I would bring up the rear several miles back, watching for a tail and prepared to take the place of anyone who needed a break.
We set out on I-80, quickly crossing the bridge into Council Bluffs, Iowa, and settling down to the uneventful drive. After a couple of hours Ted called us on the radio and asked if we'd like to switch places, to give Harold some first-hand experience at spotting surveillance. Within a few minutes we'd passed the others and were in the lead.
"Have you been eyeballing the cars we passed?" Ed asked Harold. Ed was driving and Harold was next to him. I was in the back.
"Yes, but I didn't recognize any from before, and nothing seemed suspicious," Harold replied.
"Same here," I added. I'd been watching the road and other vehicles as well.
"We can pretty well discount trucks," Ed said. "Surveillance and shadowing aren't practical with an 18-wheeler."
"Panel trucks and pick-ups are improbable," I said. "Still, one might use one of those for surveillance, but more likely in a built-up area."
"I think we can rule out people over 40 or 50 as well, can't we?" asked Harold. "The people we're dealing with are our age or younger."
"That's right," Ed replied. "Terrorists on the cutting edge tend to be young. The leaders are older men, but they don't get involved in the cutting edge."
"Can we rule out women too? Remember what the Iranian President said a few days ago about western countries sending women to fight."
"Yes and no," I answered Harold. "In principle, they see women as belonging at home, doing the cooking and raising the children. However, remember there were a couple of women suicide bombers in the Middle East a year or two ago. You can't totally rule out women as operatives, although they're far fewer than the men."
"Now also keep an eye out for anyone at the side of the road or on an overpass, watching the traffic, especially if they're using binoculars," Ed added. The three of us scrutinized the road and nearby areas, but nothing seemed to stand out.
Interstate 80 passes just south of Chicago, and right off one of the exits was the hotel Amir was supposed to stay to wait for his contact. Amir checked in, and Ted and Paul accompanied him to his room to set up the telephone tap before going to their room down the hall. Adams and Spicer took the duty of staying with Amir because Ted and Paul had been unnerved by the previous day's incident with the hotel manager. Ed, Harold, and I took the room next to Amir's and settled in to wait.
"We've got a day's slack time, but we can't count on that," I explained to Harold while we waited for room service. We were going to follow our usual routine of having meals delivered to our room and we'd walk them over to Amir's room as soon as the hallway was clear.
"See, sometimes it gets tricky," Ed followed up on my comment. "Some operatives play little games for additional security. They told Amir to check in at this hotel on this date, but that he would not be contacted until the day after tomorrow. They just might contact him tomorrow, or even tonight if they're suspicious we have Amir under surveillance or maybe just as an extra security precaution. That's why we have to remain alert." At this moment there was a knock at the door and I answered it. I took the tray from the waiter and then walked it down the hall to Amir's room. Then Ed, Harold, and I went out to dinner, taking our portable radios with us in case anything happened. On returning we undressed.
"How does your tip feel?" Ed asked Harold while I explored the bathroom.
"I think it's a bit more sensitive," I heard Harold reply. "The head's smoother because it's always wet now."
"That's some progress," I said as I returned to the bedroom. "I saw that there's a shower spray in there. Maybe you'd like to try it." We all stripped down quickly and entered the roomy shower stall.
"Take off the condom," I suggested to Harold as I adjusted the water. "I'll show you how this works with Ed and then we'll try it on you." Ed faced the shower as I took the head off its mount and adjusted the water to a pulsing stream. I grasped Ed's still soft penis and gently pushed the foreskin back to expose the bulbous helmet. I directed the stream to hit the front dome of Ed's glans and the response was immediate. He sighed as his prick began to swell quickly, and he grasped my swelling prick with an overhand grip.
"Get behind him and hold him," I said to Harold. "When he comes his knees turn to rubber." Harold stepped behind Ed, wrapped his left arm around his waist and reach around to cup Ed's scrotum with his right hand. Harold's prick pressed against Ed's back as he looked over Ed's shoulder to watch the action. The water was very hot, and this helped bring the blood to Ed's glans, which was rapidly becoming darker.
"Harold, this is really irresistible," Ed muttered to let Harold know what to expect when his turn came. I kept Ed's foreskin pushed back tightly to expose his helmet right down to the groove.
"It's like a vibrator," I added. "The hot water hits the nerve endings on the surface and the pulsing jet reaches down under the skin and works on the deep-seated ones. Ed's got only a few seconds left." Ed was writhing as the sensations bit into his helmet, and now I shifted the spray head so that the jet probed into the triangular groove under the glans, massaging his taut frenulum with its heat. The edge of the stream touched the lips of his slit, spreading them and probing the sensitive tissues deep inside.
"I'm close, so close," Ed moaned as I saw him stand on tip-toe, his body tensing with excitement. His turgid tip was very dark now, and his jaw clenched. I shifted the spray slightly to play over the rounded front dome of his glans, and then underneath again as his breathing became ragged.
"AAAAHHHH!" he cried out as his body jerked and a thick stream of white liquid shot from his prick onto my stomach. His knees buckled but Harold was holding him tightly. I felt the pulse of his orgasm in his shaft and then he cried out again as the second jet spurted from his slit to bathe my stomach in heavy cream. Ed's body was shuddering in the frenzy of his orgasm and his prick pulsed again as it blew a third torrent onto my stomach.
Ed cried out helplessly as I felt hid shaft throb again, releasing another stream that landed on my thigh. His grip on my prick tightened, and I felt a responsive throb deep in the root of my organ. Ed's straining body shuddered again and his prick spewed another load that landed on the shower floor between us. I knew his tip was now too sensitive, so I lowered the spray and let his orgasm work itself out.
Ed's knees were still too weak for him to remain standing, and Harold lowered him gently to the shower floor. Ed released my prick as he sank into the daze that follows climax. Harold's prick faced me, rock-hard from the excitement of having watched and felt Ed's explosive release, and I gave it a short burst of the hot spray. It bobbed reflexively and Harold yelped at the sudden shock of sensation. He was looking at me expectantly and I said:
"Somebody's got to hold you or you'll collapse. Let's wait until Ed recovers. Do you want to go next?"
"No, I want to watch and feel you come, Jack. It's such a thrill to hold a hot guy like you or Ed when he unloads." I kept the spray pointed at the floor as Ed swam upward out of his daze, returning to full awareness. Harold helped him stand and I passed him the spray head. I turned my back to Harold and felt his arm wrap around my waist as his other hand cupped my tight sac. Ed grasped my shaft, ensuring that the skin was pushed all the way back toward the base, so that my helmet was exposed to the spray from round front dome to the deep groove behind the rim.
I sighed as the first spray hit my tip, sending its messages of joy deep inside it. Ed sprayed my front dome and I felt one of the tiny pulsing jets stabbing deep into my pouting orifice, adding another dimension to the sensations. Filling my prick. I was already very excited from just having made Ed shoot, and within seconds my helmet had turned dark purple atop my straining prick.
"Ohhhh," I moaned as the sensations built up within me, and I felt Harold's arm tightening around my waist. The jet spray hammered at my glans as I continued to moan in delight, enjoying the powerful sensations that would soon push me over the brink. My sac was tight in Harold's fingers, and I felt him gently kneading it.
The hot hard head of my prick ached for release, and I felt my body becoming tense. The jet spray was causing an unbearable tickling in my helmet, and I know the sensation would explode in a couple of seconds. My awareness of the world outside my body dimmed as my attention became increasingly focused on my prick. The water hammered the nerve endings and now I was feeling the delicious hot tingle that immediately precedes ejaculation. My eyes closed.
I cried out as I felt the first spasm deep inside and the hot torrent searing its way up my prick to slam through the pouting lips of my slit. My knees turned to jelly and I sagged as the next wave of sensation hit me, but Harold's strong arm held me up. The hot wet pulses hammered against my glans, hitting the front dome and then underneath, strumming my gee-string, before traveling back to work around my hard flaring corona. Another contraction deep inside made me cry out in joyous agony as my prick disgorged another heavy stream.
I felt another torrent surge upward through my prick to the hard, throbbing head before erupting from between the lips of my pouting meatus. The next load was just as heavy, but less forceful. My prick-tip was becoming super-sensitive, but with the water stream it didn't matter. It was pure heaven, sending shock waves down my shaft and bringing forth another gush. I felt Harold gently lowering me to the shower's warm wet floor as my last spasms wracked my prick right down to the root. I gasped and grunted, and then relaxed because the storm was over.
As I returned to full awareness of my surroundings I felt Ed milking my prick, forcing out the last drops, and then pulling my foreskin up over the shrinking helmet. I heard him speak:
"Harold, did you see how dark Jack's helmet got as he was coming? The rim was almost black."
"Just like yours when you came," Harold replied. "Anyway, he was struggling when his knees gave out. I know the feeling." I got to my feet with Harold's help, and now Ed and I took our positions. Ed embraced him from behind while I grasped his rigid shaft, holding it up so that the glans pointed toward my chest. As he was circumcised I didn't have to pull the skin back. I held the spray nozzle so that the water jets poured over the front of his glans and felt an immediate response as his prick throbbed in my hand.
"I think this will be quick, Harold. You've watched us come and you're primed for it." I knew he was. It always aroused him to watch Ed and me come, and he'd not only watched, he'd helped. Ed had both arms around Harold's waist and I knew he'd hold him tightly as he slipped into orgasm. Harold's balls were drawn up tightly, and he was staring into my eyes as I sprayed his big tip with the pulsing hot water.
"Your helmet's already getting darker," I pointed out as I swung the spray head around his prick to hit the area between his rim and circumcision scar. "I think keeping the head covered already made it more sensitive." His shaft certainly felt stiffer between my encircling fingers.
"Yesss," he whispered, and I knew the sensations were reaching deep inside him, heightening his excitement. Now I focused the jet on his corona, working around its circumference, and then aiming it right at the bulging front dome of the glans. I saw the jets part the lips of his long slit, drilling into the orifice, and heard him moan shrilly in response.
"Feeling the tingle yet?" I asked him as I kept the hot jets aimed at his slit. He nodded just before his prick jerked in my hand, and I saw a thick creamy jet erupt to spray onto my stomach. Now I sprayed the broad upper surface of his helmet and felt his shaft throb again as his tip blew another torrent of semen onto my body. Harold was grunting loudly as he sagged in Ed's arms, and I knew he was gripped by the full fury of his orgasm.
His purple tip spewed another load, which this time landed on my thigh, and he grunted again. I sprayed the front of his glans again, bringing forth another surge of sperm. A weaker jet followed, and then another, as I continued pouring hot sensations into his throbbing prick with the spray. Now only a dribble seeped from his long slit, quickly washing away under the pulses of water, and then I turned off the spray as Ed lowered him to the floor.
"He really let go a heavy load," I said to Ed. "He was really struggling in your arms."
"Sure," Ed confirmed. "After his first load he became dead weight. Maybe next time we ought to do this sitting."
"That's a good idea," I agreed. "These orgasms are so hot we almost lose consciousness."
"I think you do, sometimes," Ed riposted. "The way your eyes always close I think you're passing out."
"I'm barely conscious sometimes," I admitted. "It feels like I'm in another world."
"It's like that for me too," Ed said. "I feel like I'm floating when my cock's throbbing so hard."
"It felt like that to me just now," Harold said as he struggled to regain his feet. Ed grabbed his elbow and helped him up. I turned on the water again, leaving the spray head in its wall bracket.
"I guess it's time to wash the cream off us," I said. Harold reached down and grasped our foreskin nipples just as the hot water stimulated my flow. I noticed that his bare glans was already pouring its yellow stream onto the shower floor. I felt a pleasant stretching sensation as my hood expanded with the pressure of the urine.
"I just love to play with those skins and watch them swell," Harold exclaimed. Our hoods were fully swollen now, and Harold released the pressure to let them drain, and then pinched them shut again. The flow rinsed whatever seminal residue we had inside our urethras and swirled around our helmets, washing them off as well. Harold released our foreskins and then he grasped my prick and pushed my hood up off the head, where it locked behind my corona as my bladder completed draining itself. He did the same to Ed, and now all three of us were bare headed, the spray from the shower rinsing us off.
Next morning we went through our breakfast routine, and then gathered in our room to confer.
"It looks like we have a slack day," Ed pointed out to the group. "Still, anything can happen. Amir's contact knows he's here and waiting, and he might push his schedule forward a day. We can't relax and take the day off, much as we'd like to."
"We'll stay alert," Adams said. "As long as we're watching things, you guys can relax a bit, because we'll give you ample warning if anything comes down."
"That sounds good," Ted said. "Maybe the rest of us can take turns going out to lunch so that there's always one back-up team nearby."
"I think that's an excellent idea," Ed said. "Let's play it that way, then." They dispersed to their rooms and the rest of the day went by uneventfully. The following morning we gathered again.
"This is the day," Ed said. "I've got a funny feeling something's going to change now. Maybe I'm just being paranoid but things have been going too smoothly up to now." This drew a laugh from Ted and Paul, who had ambushed the hotel manager in Denver several days before.
"We'll try not to step on our dicks this time," Paul said.
"We'll try even harder," Adams chimed in. "Remember Spicer and I are the ones baby-sitting Amir."
"Amir doesn't sound like an Arabic name to me," Paul said. "It sounds Israeli."
"That might well be," conceded Ed. "I'm sure it's not his real name anyway. All these guys take aliases even before they leave the home country."
"I'd better get out to the airport and see if any more intel came to us during the night," said Harold. He left and the others dispersed to their rooms. Harold was back and hour later with some news:
"We broke into their network, I think. One of the phone calls was to a number in this area, and it just might be today's contact. Another number was in Queens, New York, and that's where we're going next. Anyway, the field office guys are checking them out and we might get more info later." At that point the portable radio buzzed. It was Spicer:
"Amir got his call. Things are different this time. The contact told him to put the canister in a paper bag and go downstairs, out the front door, and turn right and keep walking. Someone will meet him and take the canister."
"Shit!" exclaimed Ed. "This is a whole new ball game. They can watch Amir on the street. They'll easily see us if we try to follow him. We're screwed." This was bad news. Not only was Amir to deliver the canister in what's known as a "brush contact," he'd be open to surveillance during his walk, which precluded our following him closely to apprehend whoever his contact might be. Worse, we had no way of knowing how many people were to be involved in this contact. One, certainly, to pick up the canister from him, and an unknown number of others doing counter-surveillance.
"Maybe not," I suggested. "So Amir hands over the canister. I don't think they're going to use it for a few more days. This looks like they are trying for a coordinated attack across the country. They're probably going to wait until all the canisters are delivered and then set their D-Day. They won't know that they're holding dummies. Only we know that." I felt this gave us a margin of safety. It was slim, but better than nothing.
"We heard," Ted said as he and Paul charged into our room. They startled us, and Ed and I were already reaching under our jackets for our pistols when we recognized them.
"Yeah, this is the shits," Harold said. He hadn't reacted to the sudden intrusion because he was lost in thought.
"Try not to be so sudden next time," Ed admonished them. "We don't want any blue on blue shootings."
"Does this mean we just let them have the dummy canister?" Harold asked.
"I don't see how we can avoid letting them walk away with it," said Ed. We won't even know who picked it up, except for whatever description we can get from Amir."
"Maybe not," Ted said. "We've got something else up our sleeve." All of us turned to face him attentively, eager to hear what he had to say.
Continued in Part 13