Arrest Record, Part 18 By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com
During the middle of the afternoon Ed received a phone call from Peter in Ontario, replying to his request to try to find Amir's whereabouts. When he hung up Ed seemed in much better spirits, and Harold and I waited anxiously to hear what Peter had told him:
"Well, Amir's okay," he said. "He went on a binge and didn't even start back to Detroit. He's supposedly a Moslem, but like many other people, he doesn't follow his religion very closely. Moslems aren't supposed to touch alcohol, but Amir got stinking drunk. The he picked up a woman in a bar and they went to her place. I don't know if he managed to do anything, drunk as he was. My guess is that he wasn't even able to get it up. It didn't matter, though, because the woman was a working girl and he paid her for it. Peter's agents were watching the hotel when he returned this morning. They're sobering him up now and they'll send him off tomorrow morning. Peter's going to have him escorted right up to the border. We can take him from there."
I was relieved to hear this. Compared to what might have gone wrong, Amir's binge was small beer, no pun intended. At this point there was nothing more for us to do so we went back to our hotel in the late afternoon, after making arrangements for two cars and several other agents to drive with us to Port Huron in the morning.
We stripped down upon entering our room, still feeling the tension of the day. I knew that we needed "nature's tranquilizer" to relieve our tension. We sat facing each other on the bed, legs intertwined, and Harold rolled my foreskin nipple between two fingers. Ed gently squeezed Harold's tip, while I did the same to him. It didn't take long for us to get to full mast.
"Harold's made really good progress," Ed said as he eyed Harold's engorged glans through the translucent latex. "The coloring's improved a lot. See how the head's delicate pink around the slit, turning gradually purple farther back? The rim's a deep purple, especially the back face." I saw that Harold's glans was indeed darker and richer looking than it had been. I knew it had become more sensitive as well, especially around his flaring rim. Now I saw a large drop of clear lube force its way between the lips of Harold's slit, visible in the opening at the end of the condom. I felt a slight tingle deep inside me, and a drop of fluid began crawling slowly up my prick toward the end.
With my other hand I tickled the hairs on Harold's sac, watching as his balls retracted against his body. At the same time I began working Ed's foreskin back in stages, pulling down slightly and then pulling it back up. I repeated this, uncovering a little more of Ed's glans, and then reversed to cover it again.
"I think Harold needs relief right now," Ed told me as he let go Harold's prick and began twisting his nipples gently. Harold's engorged prick was leaking copiously now, evidence of his mounting excitement, and I knew Ed was right.
"Do me, guys, and then I'll blow you both," Harold pleaded as he fell back onto the bed. I let go Ed's prick and began working on Harold's hardness. Harold's need seemed urgent, so I palmed his prick and began working my hands in opposite directions, twisting the latex foreskin around the hot hard glans. Harold's face reddened as his excitement neared its peak, and the steadily flowing lubricant overflowed the condom, making my palms too slippery to exert much friction. I stripped the condom from his prick and worked my palms directly on his glans and forward shaft, from the front dome back to the circumcision scar.
Ed and I crouched over him, heightening his excitement, and I felt Harold's glans go into its final swelling, the rim flaring even more as I worked my palms around it. There was plenty of lubrication, and so no risk of a friction burn on his tender tissues. His breathing was very rapid now, just a series of grunts, because he was right on the edge.
Harold's prick jerked in my hands and an instant later a thick column of cream shot from his swollen purple tip, filling the air with the characteristic chlorine odor. He grunted hard again as another jet erupted from his twitching shaft and glans to fall onto his abdomen. The excitement was contagious, and my prick was leaking lube was well. I saw the orifice of Ed's foreskin fill with clear fluid, and knew that he was also caught up in the excitement.
Harold's prick throbbed between my palms as it shot another thick jet into the air. I kept applying the delicious friction, knowing that although his prick had become more sensitive, it could still tolerate stimulation all through his orgasm.
Now his throbs and jets were weaker, gradually fading to a dribble as his orgasm ran out of steam. After a final twitch, his prick was still in my hands and began to soften. Ed wiped his down with a towel and we waited for him to revive. Meanwhile, we gently fingered each other's pricks, maintaining our excitement. We ere both very wet, a fact that Harold noticed upon coming back to full consciousness.
"Man, you guys are really leaking," he commented as he grasped our shafts. He pulled our pricks closer to each other, and we followed, sitting face to face with my legs over Ed's. I edged forward a little more, and Harold skinned us both back and rubbed our tips together.
"Your cocks smell really nice, after a whole day without a shower." He always appreciated the rich masculine odor that emanated from our foreskins and was eager to smell them up close.
"You've got that head-cream too," Harold added as he lowered his head and his tongue flicked out to lap at our swollen helmets, licking up the light coating of smegma that we'd accumulated during the day. He rubbed our tips against each other while pumping our foreskins lightly, working the thick fleshy rings against our swollen rims. His tongue caressed the undersides of our helmets, strumming our taut gee-strings to add to the stimulation.
Ed and I held hands, enthralled by the excitement flowing into our pricks, and by Harold's enthusiasm. We knew he was giving it all he had, determined to bring us to shattering orgasms. I felt a slight tickle in the front dome of my glans from the friction against Ed's hard swollen tip, coupled with a stronger sensation in my rim from the friction and compression of the nerve endings. Harold's tongue against my frenulum completed the picture, and I knew that I'd be disgorging my heavy load within seconds, as would Ed.
My glans, dark and distended, ached for the release of orgasm, and the tension built inexorably inside me, although I tried to remain relaxed. I kept my eyes on the action as our pricks went nose to nose, urged by Harold's strong fingers working our foreskins. The tickle in my helmet intensified, and my legs began trembling.
Suddenly, Harold yanked our foreskins all the way back and turned our pricks to take both helmets into his mouth. I felt the scrape of his teeth on the tender surface and this triggered my release. I closed my eyes and cried out as the first blast of cream exploded into my tube, rushing toward the end as I heard Ed's yelp of orgasmic joy. Ed and I hugged tightly as Harold sucked and stroked our pricks.
My throbbing helmet was engulfed by Harold's lips and tongue, and bathed in the mixture of our discharges as we floated off into the free-fall of orgasm. I felt Ed's hot hard head throbbing against mine as it disgorged its loads, spitting them into Harold's mouth where they blended with mine and swirled around our swollen helmets. The delicious agony of orgasm filled my body as Ed and I hugged and blended into one being, united by our blissful tremors.
Our prick-tips throbbed and jerked in Harold's mouth as torrents of fluid poured from them. Ed and I floated in mindless limbo, grunting loudly and joyfully experiencing the frenzy of our orgasms. When we'd drained ourselves we relaxed and sank into a daze.
After a few minutes we roused ourselves and showered, taking advantage of the detachable shower head and its extension hose to shoot hot water in needle jets onto our tips to bring forth the yellow streams that would flush our plumbing thoroughly. I gasped as the hot needles stung my front dome and penetrated into my urethra through my orifice, triggering my stream. Ed skinned back and I aimed the pulsing stream at his front dome until a surge of urine poured from his tip. Then I aimed it at Harold's circumcised tip until he reacted the same way, disgorging his heavy stream.
Afterward we dried ourselves, ordered dinner from room service, and went to sleep, anticipating the busy day that lay in front of us. We arose early, and prepared for the drive to Port Huron to meet Amir and his escorts.
"I'm not surprised he wanted to blow off steam," Ed commented as I drove. "These guys lead pretty austere lives. They all have to be single to qualify for suicide details, and they have to live in a Spartan manner while on a mission, no women, no booze, no pork, no anything."
"Think they're allowed to beat off?" Harold asked from the back.
"Darned if I know," Ed replied. During the rest of the trip we kept in touch with the detail escorting Amir by radio, and finally we saw them pulled over to the side of the road on this side of the border. Amir was driving his car, with a Mountie in the seat next to him. Two other RCMP cars were behind them. The Mountie got out and Ed took his place for a minute, long enough to brief Amir that we were proceeding directly to New York City via Interstate 80. When Ed returned to our car we gave the Mounties a friendly wave and got on the road.
It was over 600 miles to New York, and we crossed the George Washington Bridge at dusk, making our way across Manhattan and into the Bronx, where we went down to the Triboro Bridge into Astoria. A few miles on Grand Central Parkway brought us to 94th Street, next to Laguardia Airport, where we had reservations in a small hotel. Adams, Spicer, Ted, and Paul had flown in earlier in the day and had secured the rooms.
We followed the same plan, Adams and Spicer staying with Amir and eating in the room, while Ted, Paul, Harold, Ed and I had dinner at a pleasant Italian restaurant on Astoria Boulevard. Next morning we awaited the customary telephone call. As a result of Massad's capture, we knew who the contact person was, and several cars with local agents trailed him from his apartment to a corner where he phoned Amir's room on his untraceable cell phone.
This time the plan was not to apprehend the contact, but shadow him to discover his associates, if he had any. When he arrived at Amir's room he took the canister containing a GPS tracker and left, with our agents arranged in a loose tail. As before, they didn't have to stick close to him because his trail was visible on the screen of the tracking device.
They also had another edge. The contact had been one of the people Massad or Masood had revealed to Ted and Paul, so the trackers knew where he lived. Shadowing him was just insurance, as the contact might stop to see another person about which we had no knowledge. We'd learned from hard experience that we couldn't take anything for granted in this business.
As it happened, the contact went almost directly home to an apartment in Jackson Heights, after stopping at a coffee shop to buy a container of coffee. The agent shadowing him reported that he was a heavy smoker, and apparently coffee went well with his cigarettes. The apartment was a three-story walk-up at the corner of 81st. Street and 32nd. Avenue, and the contact lived on the top floor. Ed, Harold, and I had followed at a distance, and after the contact had entered his apartment we conferred with the lead team, who had parked their car down the street. The tracking device was so accurate that at this close range we could tell which apartment our suspect occupied. Ed and I went into the lobby and found that Apartment 3-C had a mailbox labeled "Ramirez." Obviously this was not his name, but at least we knew his working identity. As the local agents already had a tap in "Ramirez's" home phone and another team had installed a bug in his apartment while he was picking up the canister, there was nothing else for us to do but return to the hotel after dropping Harold off at Laguardia Airport. He was going back to Washington, DC to assist in arresting some of the people identified as terrorist operatives in that area. Ted and Paul were also going to Washington, but on the train, while Adams and Spicer were returning to their duty posts out west. By this time it was 2 P.M. and Ed and I stopped at a diner to have a quick lunch. Harold would eat on the Grumman on his way back to Washington. The diner's specialty was lox and bagels, and we ordered these, as we both liked them and had not tasted them in a long time. After we'd finished we returned to our room. "I'm glad we've got some time alone together again," Ed said to me as we stripped down. "Harold's a nice kid, but I want to be with just you this afternoon." I hugged him, kissing his ear, as I felt our pricks touching between us. He ran his strong hands down my back as I murmured: "I feel the same way you do. Harold's very bright and really nice, but it's been hectic having him with us. Anyway, we'll see him tomorrow in Washington." Our pricks were swelling between us, and we parted slightly to ease them into a vertical position between our abdomens. The room was warm, but there was something special about being alone with my partner of several years, with whom I'd shared dangers, rewards, and frustrations. Ed kissed me on the lips as we eased ourselves onto the bed. Ed turned his body and now his lips were near my prick. I felt a light kiss on the end of my foreskin as I grasped his shaft lightly between two fingers. "I like the way your hood's tight," he said. "It really hugs the head and I can see the shape perfectly through the skin." I felt his tongue-tip tracing the edge of my foreskin's orifice, tickling the juncture between inner and outer layers. I did the same to him, and quickly insinuated my tongue-tip inside his foreskin as it was looser than mine. Ed shivered as my tongue-tip touched his slit, tasting the drop of lubricant that was oozing through the lips. Now I pushed deeper into his fleshy shroud, caressing the blunt-nosed glans, savoring the rich masculine taste and stimulating the sensitive nerve endings. I felt Ed's tongue pushing into my foreskin's pucker, probing for my slit. His fingers pushed my foreskin back slightly to stretch the opening and give him easier access to the glans, and now his tongue-tip tickled my pouting slit as the fingers of his other hand cupped my sac. We were going slowly, not rushing, giving our excitement ample time to build, and enjoying the delights of each other's pricks. It felt very hot inside Ed's foreskin, the result of blood that had rushed to engorge his helmet, and I ran my tongue around its circumference, strumming the taut gee-string at the bottom. I felt Ed's strong fingers push my foreskin all the way back, slowly enough for me to feel the delicious stretching sensation as it expanded over my helmet and its wide and flaring rim.
His tongue again flicked across my pouting slit, and then began tracing small circles around it, lapping up the secretions that had built up since morning. Ed had told me he loved the taste of my prick, and he knew I loved his. Now his tongue worked back along the broad upper surface of my helmet until it reached the corona, and then began tracing its contours down one side until it reached my frenulum. He quickly strummed my gee-string as he tightened his grip on my prick and pushed back on the skin to stretch the gee-string. Hot sparks of sensation stabbed deeply into the taut flesh, making me shudder helplessly.
"Now that I've got you worked up," he said, "let me put on a rubber and slip it between your legs." Princeton was one of his favorites, I knew, as he greatly enjoyed thrusting between my thighs as he stroked my long foreskin up and over the glans. He got up and came back with a towel that he spread in front of me. Then he unrolled a condom down over his rock-hard prick, ready to slip it between my thighs. I lay on my left side and lifted my leg to give him access, and felt his shaft against my perineum. I lowered my leg and he began thrusting slowly as he reached over me to clasp my prick, moving my foreskin in long strokes, covering and uncovering my swollen helmet, causing my excitement to rise to match his.
"It's really nice, with you," Ed murmured as he kissed my neck. His prick was thrusting slowly between my thighs, and I felt the big helmet bump my sac with each stroke. His fingers delicately manipulated my foreskin, bringing it forward to engulf my glans completely, and then pulling it back to uncover the bug helmet and stretch my frenulum, causing the head to dip slightly. I felt drops of viscous liquid crawling up my prick to lubricate my thick fleshy hood each time he brought it forward. His finger pressure on my urethra forced the drops forward, where they oozed from my slit to be captured by my hood as it closed over the blunt end on the forward stroke.
"I like feeling your prick down there," I said as I tightened my thigh muscles, increasing the friction on his prick as it slid inside the lubricated rubber. I felt Ed's fingers tighten on my penis, and now he began twisting my foreskin on each forward stroke, and the sideways friction on my flaring corona fueled to my fire. Until now we'd been climbing the slope at a measured pace, but this imposed a new urgency, and both of us began breathing more quickly.
"You're really squeezing my tip," he muttered as he increased his pace. I felt the flaring corona of his engorged helmet scraping my perineum through the lubricated condom, and knew that Ed was receiving all the sensations he needed to attain orgasm. His fingers accelerated on my prick, and I knew that he'd force an orgasm from me within less than a minute.
"I can feel your big tip swelling even more," I said as I released and tightened my thigh muscles, giving him surges of sensation.
"Your tip's bigger too," he replied. "I can feel it through the skin." He twisted my hood around the head, stretching my gee-string from one side to the other.
"I can feel your big rim against me down there," I added. "Your tip's bumping my balls too."
"Your rim's really flared out now," he commented as he continued to manipulate my foreskin. "You'll be blasting off any second." I knew he was right, as despite my efforts to stay relaxed, I felt myself tightening up inside.
"AAAAHHH!" I heard myself cry out as he yanked my foreskin all the way back, tensing the gee-string and pulling the helmet down even as he gave a twist to my sensitive flesh.
"I bet you're getting that tickle," he said. "I can tell when you're at that point." He was right, The friction had produced a heavy tickle in my rim, and I knew I was hurtling toward the brink. I slid my hand down my body, ready to help him come when my climax began.
"You're close too, and I'll make sure you come with me," I assured him as he pumped his prick rapidly between my clenched thighs. His fingers flew over my penis, dragging the foreskin back with twisting tugs and then urging it forward to bump over my rim and slide down the taper of my blunt glans. The tickle suddenly changed to the familiar hot tingle and I knew I was poised on the edge.
I slid my fingers between my thighs, probing for the underside of Ed's thrusting prick. I found the sweet spot in the triangular groove under the head and pressed against the gee-string to trigger his orgasm. I heard him cry out helplessly as the newly intensified sensations overwhelmed him, just as my eyes closed and the heavy pounding of my orgasm began deep inside me.
I felt the first torrent of hot cream boil up my prick, searing my urethra as it raced to the end. Ed's prick throbbed hard against me as his body slammed into mine, and we tumbled into the free-fall of orgasm together. Ed gave my prick another forward stroke and I discharged again, the stream erupting from my throbbing helmet as Ed disgorged another load. Our bodies strained against each other in hot frenzy, mindlessly obeying the imperative of orgasm.
We were both grunting and crying as our third spasms hit us, and I felt Ed yank my foreskin back hard to let the discharge shoot unimpeded from my gaping slit. Now he kept my foreskin tightly back to avoid friction against my helmet, because he knew that the stretching of the nerve endings would maintain the momentum of my orgasm. He kept thrusting hard, though, because inside the distended condom his engorged prick was swimming in sperm and not receiving much friction. I kept my fingers pressed into the underside of his prick, compressing his gee-string and urethra as he continued thrusting.
Now our cries were weaker, signaling the fading of our climaxes. Our pricks still twitched, but without the hot fury of a few seconds ago. Our bodies began to relax as the last drops crawled up our pricks to seep from our slits. Now we were very still, totally absorbed in the intimacy of the afterglow and sinking into the daze that follows orgasm. Our pricks shrank and we lay together silently as I thought how well Ed and I got along together, both personally and sexually.
Many minutes later, Ed's cell phone rang, and he answered it. He listened for a minute and then rang off. When he turned to me his face was grim.
"There's been a shooting down in Washington. We've got to get down there right now. Harold was involved."
Continued in Part 19