Arrest Record, Part 17 By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com
After Peter's office staff had eaten their fill there was still enough food to provide an ample dinner for us, and we packed it up and drove to his house with it, stopping to allow Ed to buy another case of delicious Canadian beer. Once there we stripped down, and as we were in the middle of a gorgeous summer afternoon, we opened four beers and went into his back yard.
Harold's eyes were on Peter's tapered uncircumcised prick and he said:
"What I wouldn't give to have one like that." Turning to Ed and me he added: "Or one like yours."
"Peter didn't always like skinning back," Ed said to Harold. "Let me show you how I got him off the first time." He looked at Peter, who slid off his chair onto the grass, lying on his left side. Ed knelt behind him and grasped his prick between the palms of his hands.
"This is what we call "palming," he explained to Harold. "There's no back and forth motion, just rotating the foreskin rapidly in opposite directions." He proceeded to demonstrate, moving his hands in opposite directions to twist Peter's foreskin. He went slowly at first, and then more quickly, as Peter's prick quickly responded to the stimulation. Ed bent to his task and I took up the explanation for Harold:
"This rapid twisting of the foreskin not only rubs the head and the inside of the foreskin, but it stretches the nerve endings, both in the hood and in the gee-string. No uncut guy can resist coming for more than a minute because the stimulation's so intense."
"Awesome," muttered Harold, whose eyes were fixed on Peter's penis. Ed's hands were moving rapidly now, and Peter's eyes had taken on a glazed, fixed stare. Harold's prick had begun to swell, and I moved to the chair next to him.
"Here, let me do it to you," I said. You've got a condom on, and I can use that to give you the same stroking." I placed one palm under the end of his prick and the other on top, and began moving them in opposite directions, twisting the condom over his rapidly swelling glans. Harold's prick responded rapidly and was fully swollen within seconds.
"That's intense," he whispered.
"It really is intense," I told him. "You're already leaking lube. Your tip's really become more sensitive since you've been wearing the condom." Meanwhile, Peter's excitement had mounted and I saw that his balls were tight against his body and his legs were already trembling. Ed had not let up, and if anything was twisting his foreskin even more rapidly. Peter's foreskin pucker was dribbling clear fluid that was running down into the grass and his breathing had become heavy.
"His tip's really hard inside his skin," Ed advised us as he maintained his efforts. We saw that Peter's lips had drawn back from his teeth and the cords in his neck stood out visibly.
"AAAHHHHH!" Peter yelped as the orgasm came on him like an express train. His hips bucked and a long gush of cream poured from the puckered end of his foreskin. He yelped again and we watched another heavy string of sperm force its way through his foreskin, stretching the pucker as it emerged. I felt Harold's glans through the thin latex, and it was very hard. Harold now cried out as his prick throbbed hard between my palms, and a long stream of cream shot through the lips of his long slit, through the hole at the end of the condom, and arced onto the grass between his spread legs.
Peter's body jerked as his prick poured another heavy rope of semen onto the grass, and an instant later Harold's hot hard prick again pulsed between my palms as it spit a second load into the air. I felt my prick swelling inside its long foreskin, and a quick glance told me that Ed's was already fully hard, resting on Peter's hip. Peter shuddered again, and another stream dribbled from his long foreskin.
I heard Harold groan as his prick again throbbed hard. His jet, unencumbered by a long enveloping foreskin, shot free and landed on the grass between his spread legs. His eyes were fixed on his prick, through which he was receiving the most unbelievable sensations.
Peter's orifice stretched again to release another stream, and a moment later Harold's orifice dilated to allow another jet to pass. Now both men were coming down off their highs, their pulses weaker and streams less forceful and copious. Ed and I exchanged glances, having witnessed two powerful orgasms and indeed, having brought on the storms. Two beautiful pricks had disgorged their hot liquid loads for us, and were now pulsing weakly, seeping their last drops.
Ed and I milked their urethras to push forward the last drops, and the residue seeped from their pricks. We were thoroughly aroused by having helped Peter and Harold attain release, and now we stood and hugged, pricks upright between our abdomens, sharing the intimacy of the delicious moment. Ed kissed me and I kissed him back. We clung together, devoted to each other, secure in our long relationship. Lubricant seeped from our slits, escaping through the puckers in our long foreskins, which still encased our helmets. I grabbed Ed by the shoulders, pushing him urgently down onto the grass.
"Here, let me do you," I urged. "After that, you need to blow your load." He didn't resist as I positioned him on his side and knelt behind him. I palmed his prick, feeling it throb at my touch, and began moving my hands in opposite directions. I knew that he was very hot, and felt it in the hard swelling of his helmet. His rim stood out proudly through the enveloping foreskin, and I twisted the fleshy sleeve around it, alternating directions every half second.
His breathing was hard and ragged, and he was perspiring copiously as his body tensed for the effort of release. I noticed Peter and Harold watching, eager to see Ed undergo the same hot ejaculations that had gripped their bodies only a minute earlier. My hard prick rested on Ed's hip, a steady dribble of clear lube seeping through my foreskin and running down his body. Ed's foreskin was disgorging large drops that fell onto the grass below, and I knew that he was close, very close.
"You felt how intense palming is," I said, looking at Harold. "Palming gives you some of the most powerful ejaculations ever."
"Yeah, it's like electro or using the vibrator," Harold acknowledged.
"I'm going to do something slightly different now," I explained to Harold. "Normally you keep the foreskin all the way forward, but this time I'll give you a show. I'm going to pull it back just enough to clear his slit so the ejaculation can shoot out freely." I shifted my hands slightly, just enough to pull Ed's foreskin back enough to expose the long slit while still applying intense friction to his glans and corona. Now his hot streams wouldn't be impeded by the foreskin.
His legs began trembling as his breathing grew more rapid and ragged. His fists clenched, and his lips draw back. His helmet was very hard through the skin, and now his entire body seemed to tense.
Ed yelped loudly as I felt his prick throb between my rapidly moving palms, expelling a thick stream of white liquid from its slit. Ed's slit gaped as the ejaculation sailed three feet to land on the grass. As his chlorine aroma filled the air I kept rotating his foreskin, bringing forth another thick rope that soaked into the grass. I felt hands clasp my prick as I worked on Ed, and a quick look told me that Peter was palming my prick, intending to make me discharge as soon as I'd finished Ed. I let myself go, concentrating on doing Ed's prick, and knowing that the intense twisting sensations in mine would send me hurtling over the brink within seconds.
My consciousness started to slip as the intense sensations in my glans and foreskin began to dominate my consciousness. I was still twisting Ed's foreskin through the final stages of his orgasm, watching him shoot, while the tension rapidly built up in my body. I was already breathing hard, but now the tension in my prick spread all over my body, and my awareness of the world outside dimmed. I let go of Ed's prick and the hood closed over the end. The last thing I saw as my eyes closed was a thin string dripping from Ed's foreskin.
I felt the intense tickling sensation around my hard, flaring rim as the nerve endings in my gee-string stretched from each frenzied twist. The tickle built up as the jolts from my gee-string shot down to the root of my straining prick. My helmet and foreskin were tingling as my world exploded, and I grunted hard as the first hot torrent poured into my urethra. It seared its way up my tube as Peter's strong hands kept twisting my foreskin, stretching the nerve endings to their limit. The first jet had barely shot into my foreskin nipple when the second one slammed through the lips of my pouting slit, producing the delicious burning sensation that enhanced my orgasm. My tight foreskin released only a trickle of sperm, and the hot wet pleasure pervaded my prick as the fiery liquid swirled around my helmet right back to flood the groove behind my rim. My hips bucked as my prick jerked helplessly, forced to disgorge its hot liquid. I collapsed on top of Ed's body as another spasm shook me to the core, and then a fourth contraction gripped the root of my prick.
Now I fell onto my back, totally helpless as Peter wrench the last of the orgasm from my straining prick. I was floating in limbo, shattered by the intense and irresistible sensations, gasping, moaning, and shuddering.
It took several minutes for me to recover from my daze, and when I opened my eyes I saw Harold, Ed, and Peter with beers in their hands. Ed motioned to a fourth beer on the table. Peter put down his bottle and knelt beside me, carefully milking my urethra and foreskin now that my prick had lost its extreme over-sensitivity. I sat up and he helped me to my chair.
"Peter's got a nice load of cream and cheese inside his skin," Ed was saying to Harold. "I think you'll enjoy cleaning it out later." I took a deep drink of cool beer, enjoying the sensation as the liquid ran down my throat. Now I took a deep breath and looked at Peter.
"That was beautiful. You had me shooting my juice so quickly that I almost didn't know what hit me."
"I was happy to do it," he assured me. "You and Ed have brought me to seventh heaven so many times that I was happy to reciprocate." As he spoke, Harold sat on the grass in front of him and grasped his limp prick, holding it up so that he could probe the tight foreskin with his tongue. We watched Peter's thick tight hood stretch as Harold's tongue drove deeper, caressing his slit and then plunging all the way to the corona and filling the groove behind it, sweeping up the accumulated secretions.
Peter's prick, totally drained from his orgasm, remained limp and small. Harold worked his tongue around the small helmet, lapping up the juices, and we saw his throat working repeatedly to swallow them. He gave a final lick at the foreskin's tight pucker and returned to his chair.
"I watched you shoot when Jack skinned you back," Harold said to Ed. "You really shot far. That palming technique is really powerful. The same happened to me."
"It is," Ed affirmed. "I always shoot fast when I get palmed. I just can't relax and hold back because it's so hot."
We sat in ruminative silence now, sipping our beers, until Ed got us another round. There was not much to say, and we enjoyed the rest of the afternoon. Fortunately Peter's yard was in the shade of the house and we did not risk sunburn.
We became very sleepy as a result of the beers, the relaxation that follows orgasm, and the warm summer afternoon. Because of the warmth, our balls were very slack and our pricks relaxed. We slipped out of our chairs and lay on the grass, and I held Ed's hand. Harold was still paired off with Peter, also holding hands, and this is how we fell asleep.
The sun was low in the sky when we awoke, and when Peter suggested bringing out the food, we responded enthusiastically. We were very hungry, and we finished off the remnants of the trays that had greeted us in the conference room.
"We'd better get to bed," Peter suggested as Ed and I cleared the table. "Tomorrow might be a very busy day." He was obviously right, and we did exactly that to get a full night's rest.
The following day we sat with Peter in the command center, watching the action unfold. Peter's techs had set up video cameras to record the scene in Amir's room, the hotel lobby, and the street outside for several blocks. Peter had several teams in place to shadow the contact after the transfer of the canister. Ed, Harold, and I had nothing to do but watch.
Following the pattern, the call to Amir's room came shortly after ten. Over the loudspeaker came a voice in heavily accented English, instructing him to leave the hotel and turn right. Amir did so and began walking, and a mobile camera concealed in a van followed him as he made his way along the street.
"There are teams all around him," Peter assured us. Ed and I exchanged looks. The Mounties were more advanced than we were with their sophisticated video surveillance. We could learn a few things from them.
"How do you get the manpower for an operation this size?" Ed asked him.
"We borrowed some troops from detachments around Toronto, and flew in some constables from outlying areas. They're al good at surveillance, and I don't expect anything to go wrong."
"I hope it all goes well," I said as I watched Amir still walking along the sidewalk. "Anyway, our ace in the hole is that the canister doesn't contain any virus."
"If it did," observed Peter, "we wouldn't be doing this. The risk of a live canister on the streets of Toronto is far too great to tolerate. We would have had to figure out something else."
"Hey, maybe that's him," Harold exclaimed, pointing at the screen on the right. Another van cruised the street about a block ahead of Amir to provide a view of oncoming pedestrians. A bearded man was walking toward Amir.
"Looks like a car shadowing Amir, too," Peter told us, pointing to the screen on the left, where another camera was monitoring the rear. "Not one of ours, that's for sure." He picked up the microphone:
"Tiger teams, watch out. This may be a mobile pick-up. The white Buick coming up slowly behind Amir. Be ready to follow." We watched as the bearded man neared Amir, and then accosted him, taking the paper bag from his hand just as the Buick pulled in to the curb. The man jumped into the car and it took off, blending into the traffic.
"Tiger two," came over the radio. "We've got him. Tiger three is right behind us and we'll switch off in a couple of blocks."
"Tiger four," a woman's voice came from the speaker. "We're on a parallel street, ready to come over when we're needed."
"Tiger five," a man's voice announced. "We've got him on the GPS tracker."
"See? Peter said. "I doubt we'll lose him. We can follow him right out to Manitoba if we have to." The mobile surveillance went on for almost two hours, until the radio reports announced that the Buick had pulled into the driveway of a rural house.
"What now?" I asked.
"We'll simply keep an eye on the house, get a warrant for a telephone tap, and continue the surveillance. With only a little bit of luck, these people will be in touch with their contacts and we'll get a line on all of them," Peter told us.
"Then what, bring them to trial?" Ed asked him.
"Eventually yes," Peter replied. "We'll coordinate with you people, though. We wouldn't want to compromise your investigation. In any event, there's no urgency. We can keep an eye on the cell and perhaps discover other cells elsewhere in Canada. There's a benefit to letting an investigation or surveillance run for a long time. We can get more information."
"Can you run us out to your house so we can pick up our bags?" Ed asked as he stood. "We really enjoyed your hospitality and we'd love to stay another night, but we should get back to the states as soon as possible now that you've got the situation under control. Anyway, there's a lot happening back there and we ought to lend a hand."
"It will be my pleasure," answered Peter as he stood to shake hands with Ed. "I enjoyed your visit, but I know you've got a lot to do back home." It took the better part of two hours to drive to Peter's house in Hamilton and then back to Pearson Airport so that we could board the Grumman. We said our hasty good-byes at the ramp, having hugged and kissed at Peter's house, and then within minutes we'd gotten clearance and were airborne back to Detroit.
Agents from the local office were awaiting us at the private air terminal and drove us to a hotel. They'd brought our firearms with them, and handed them to us at the hotel. We had reserved a three bedroom suite with a king-size bed in one of the rooms, and Ed, Harold, and I planned to sleep together that night.
We'd missed dinner, as the flight crew had not loaded any food aboard the Grumman, due to our hasty departure, and now we ordered hot roast beef sandwiches from room service. Although we were hungry we ate listlessly as a result of fatigue from the tensions of the day.
"Now what?" Harold asked. Ed replied:
"Okay, we wait here for Amir. He should be pulling into town by mid-day tomorrow, and then we'll coordinate our plans. He should be driving to the next destination, Pittsburg, and prepare for a contact in three days. This part of the plan allows more time between contacts, despite the shorter distances. I guess that's to provide for any delays." After saying this, Ed took a sip of beer and started anew on his sandwich. I'd been munching steadily during this exchange, and was ready to start on my salad. Harold took a long drink of beer and said thoughtfully:
"I was really impressed by the Mounties. That video surveillance they had was state of the art."
"Well, the United States isn't always number one in everything," I said. "We can learn some things from other countries."
"That GPS tracking system really impressed Peter," Ed added. "That's one thing they don't have."
"Both sides contributed something important in Toronto," I said. I can't complain about the level of cooperation we got from Peter and his people."
"Peter was really nice," said Harold with a dreamy look, and I knew he wasn't speaking only about our official duties. He'd been fascinated by Peter's foreskin, in contrast to his own circumcised prick, and I knew he'd enjoyed our various sexual experiences as a foursome.
Fatigue overtook us, and we got undressed and climbed into bed, our eyes closing within minutes. Next morning we awoke at our usual six o'clock and ordered breakfast. We were sexually exhausted from our Canadian trip, although we awoke with piss erections, and all we did was share the shower. Harold skinned me back and turned the removable shower nozzle to needle spray, and played it on the front dome of my glans.
I gasped as the hot water needles stung my helmet and stabbed deeply into my pouting teardrop orifice. I felt my sphincter release deep inside me and within a couple of seconds my yellow stream was gushing into the air. Harold kept up the spray until my bladder was drained, and then turned his attention to Ed. Ed had already uncapped his helmet, and was ready for the hot spray. The moment it hit his front dome, parting the lips of his long slit to penetrate deep inside his urethra, he groaned and released his stream.
Harold had removed his condom before entering the shower, and the splash from the shower spray had been hitting his glans, which turned a shade darker and gushed a yellow stream. He and Ed drained themselves, and then we set to soaping each other's bodies. We rinsed off and dressed, and went down to the dining room for breakfast. After eating we returned to our room and Ed checked in with the local office. They hadn't heard from Amir. Later in the morning Ed called again, to hear the same news. By noon there was still no news.
We drove to the office in the car that the local people had provided for us, and waited there to hear from Amir. He was now overdue, and we began worrying about various unhappy possibilities. Had he been in a collision on the freeway? Had he been tracked by members of the terrorist organization without our knowledge and been killed for his cooperation with us? Had he re-defected to the other side?
"We should have been more careful," concluded Ed. "We should never have let him travel alone. We should have stayed behind him all the way." We were in the self-recrimination phase now, and our unease was compounded by the knowledge of our culpability if anything had gone really wrong.
Continued in Part 18