Arrest Record, Part 3 By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com
Back at the office, Ed continued to explain to Harold the way we were managing our surveillance of Abdul:
"We don't necessarily have to shadow him all day and all night. 24/7 surveillance can absorb a lot of manpower and our resources aren't infinite. In fact, they're pretty limited considering what we have to do. One thing we have going for us is that we have an informer at the mosque where he and John Taylor go."
"How did you manage that?" Harold asked.
"Fortuitously," I answered. "We can't always place an informer or undercover agent where we want. In this case one of the members of the congregation had been arrested on a narcotics charge. It's unusual for Moslems to use narcotics, but this one did, and we got lucky. Every morning we get a list of all federal arrests, and this arrest was by the DEA. We ran over there and had a word with the supervising agent. We took over the case and told this guy that we would avoid prosecuting him if he cooperated with us. He's been keeping us up to date on happenings in the congregation."
"Who is he?" Harold asked.
"Can't tell you," I said. "Informers are especially protected people because of the risks they take. Their identities are strictly on a need-to-know basis. Ed and I know because we developed the case. Our supervisor doesn't know and doesn't want to know who he is. Need-to-know limits the number of people who can let confidential information slip, by mistake or by design." Ed nodded assent as I spoke, and then added:
"The informer was able to tell us that Taylor and Abdul are part of a terrorist cell because those people have poor security and they violated the need-to-know principle. Only the cell members and the person they contact for orders should have known. Instead they were bragging to other members of the congregation how they were selected to do Allah's work. That's piss-poor security."
"That's their culture," I explained. "They like to brag, elevate their social status, even if it violates common sense. Guys who can't keep their mouths shut are just looking for trouble. Look at this guy down in Guantanamo. He's confessing to every terrorist act in the last ten years. He couldn't possibly have master-minded all of them."
"Yeah, next thing he'll confess to shooting President Kennedy," I added sarcastically.
"Still, they're very dangerous," Harold commented.
"Bet your ass they're dangerous" Ed said. "Look at what they did to the World Trade Center."
"One reason they succeeded is that our government didn't take them seriously enough," I added. "A lot of people think of them as an inferior species, call them `towel-heads,' and other derogatory names. That's a disrespectful and stupid attitude because it breeds complacency. These people are dangerous because they're as smart as we are. They're also better motivated. It doesn't matter that they dress differently."
"Anybody who's willing to deliberately sacrifice his life for what he believes in is very dangerous," Ed said.
"Most Western people are willing to risk their lives for their country" I said. "However, when you're willing to undertake a suicide mission, that's dedication. Couple that with good planning and that gives us a real problem."
"We've got other ways of getting information on these guys as well, I added. "We got hold of their phone records for the last year and these give us a list of all the people they've called. Some of these are members of their terrorist cell."
"You mean they call other members from their home phone?" Harold asked incredulously.
"As I said, they've got piss-poor security," Ed replied. "Not all of them are that careless, but just enough to give us some breaks in the investigation. We've also tapped their line and recorded every conversation. Strictly speaking, this is illegal as hell, but this case is so critical that we can bend the law to obtain vital information."
"Most of the conversations are irrelevant to the investigation," I added. "We really don't want to know when he phones to see if his dry-cleaning is ready. However, we were able to identify two other members of the cell by the content of the conversations. So far, we've got five members identified. That might be it, unless they're planning something really big and need more manpower."
"We put taps on these other guys' lines too" Ed said. "They're not part of the congregation where Taylor and Abdul go, so right now this is our only surveillance. We don't have the manpower to shadow them all around the clock. We've got to make do with less." At this point the phone rang. Ed picked it up and listened for a minute before hanging up and facing us.
"Taylor was involved in a traffic accident. His car was hit by a cement truck and he didn't survive. We're going down to identify the body."
"Doesn't he have any relatives who might ID him?" Harold asked.
"Oh, he has a sister but we're going down to make sure that this is the John Taylor we're interested in. Our investigation is totally separate from the other thing." He turned and led the way to the car.
At the medical examiner's office we interviewed the pathologist. He was a thin pale man who seemed uncomfortable with his work. He told us that the death was accidental and showed us a copy of the police report. Ed scanned it and asked for a photocopy, which the doctor had his secretary run off for us. Then we went to view the body.
"Most of the injuries are internal," the doctor explained. "That's why you don't see many visible injuries." The body lay naked on a steel autopsy table. Taylor was thin, about 5'10" and blond, judging from the hair on his head and face. He wore a beard. I nudged Harold.
"No pubic hair," I commented. Ed asked the pathologist:
When will you do the autopsy?"
"We won't. None is necessary, unless someone contests the manner of death." None of us could think of a reason to doubt that the crash had been accidental, and that's the way it stood when we left. In the car, I asked Harold:
"Remember his lack of pubic hair? What does that mean?" I wanted to see how quickly Harold learned and retained important information.
"That's an indicator that he's a Moslem," he replied. "Taylor was also circumcised but by itself that doesn't mean much in this country. Moslems shave their pubic hair. He also had a beard, which suggests the same thing."
"That's good," I said. "I'm glad you remembered from yesterday. These details can be important at times."
Ed was driving, and he got on the radio to inform our supervisor that, as it was now 4:30, we were heading home instead of the office, where we would just sign out and turn around anyway. On the way we stopped at a rib place for take-out, and when we got home we immediately stripped down and went into the back yard. Ed had taken three bottles of beer from the refrigerator and we sat around the patio table happily eating and drinking.
"How do we really know that the cement truck's hitting Taylor's car was an accident?" Harold asked.
"Right now we think so, but can't nail it down," replied Ed. "We have the police report. They interviewed the driver of the truck, who works for the company that delivers cement. He's been there for 10 years, and he doesn't look like a suitable suspect. We'll also look at circumstantial evidence. Tomorrow that's going to be your job."
"Who will I interview?" Harold asked.
"Nobody," Ed told him. "Remember we have taps on several phones. Tomorrow morning there's going to be a stack of transcripts of the conversations. Maybe you can get a feel for how these people are reacting to Taylor's death."
"You'll have to get up early so that you've got those transcripts read by the time Ed and I get in there at nine," I told him.
"I know this is a bit hard, but this job isn't all fun and games," Ed added.
"Oh, I don't mind," Harold told us. "At least I'm part of a significant investigation."
"Believe me, you are," I said. "You're a member of the team, and you're doing your part. So far you're doing well. Now let's not talk about work any more." It was a warm day, and our sacs were loose and hung low.
"Your skins seem to relax with the heat too," observed Harold.
"Right, and they tighten when it gets cold," I responded. "Our pricks shrink too. I guess yours does too."
"It really does," Harold admitted. "Some winter days it's really small and my balls are tight against my body. Not now, though." I felt a stirring in my prick, which was slowly swelling as a result of the topic of our conversation. I shot a glance at Harold's groin and then Ed's. Theirs were engorging too.
"The warmth really relaxed your skins," Harold went on. Usually your skins are tight at the end, like little nipples ahead of your tips. Now the openings are wider, almost gaping. Your helmets are selling too."
"Your helmet's getting bigger too," Ed observed. "The rim's really standing out now." We were almost finished eating, and we swilled down the last of the beer.
"I'd really like to suck on those hot uncut cocks," Harold said as he chewed the last mouthful. "Can I start with you, Jack?" I nodded as I took the last bite from the last rib on my plate. Harold brought his chair closer to mine and leaned over, holding the shaft of my prick to steady it as he nibbled the end of my foreskin with his soft lips. I felt his tongue-tip insinuate itself into the wide orifice, probing for my slit. His prick was at full mast now, swollen with excitement. So was Ed's, who had been watching avidly. Both Ed's rim and mine showed prominently through our foreskins.
"I love the smell and taste of your uncut cock," Harold said as he removed his mouth for a moment. Then he bowed his head and resumed working on my prick, driving his tongue into the foreskin and swirling it in circles around my slit. I felt the familiar tickle deep inside that told me a drop of clear lube had begun working its way up my tube. Harold's tongue probed deeper, caressing the broad upper surface of my helmet and going on to work around my corona. I felt my sac start to contract with excitement.
I looked over at Ed and saw that he was slowly stroking his foreskin, drawing it back just enough to uncover his long slit, and then bringing it up again to engulf his glans totally. The next stroke was slightly longer, uncovering the front dome of his helmet. I knew that he was making the most of it, stretching the nerves in his foreskin in slow stages, building up his excitement very gradually at a controlled pace so as not to rush to orgasm. He knew that after he'd drawn the orgasm from my prick, Harold would start on him, and he didn't want to miss that by blowing his load prematurely.
I felt my excitement rising as Harold tightened his grip around the base of my shaft, compressing the veins to promote the final swelling. I felt my prick engorge and the glans harden making it more sensitive as he swiped his tongue around it. His thick tongue stretched my foreskin as he probed deeply within it, adding to the stimulation.
Now I was breathing harder as my arousal mounted, and I knew that soon I'd be beyond the point of no return, helpless to stop my orgasm's rush under the assault of erotic sensations. I felt the lips of my slit distending as a large drop of lubricant forced them open and spread over my front dome. Harold's tongue swirled around my helmet, picking up the lubricant and then descending to hit the hot spot under the head.
While his left hand remained clamped tightly around the base of my shaft, he used two fingers of his right hand to grasp my foreskin right over the corona and then began a rapid up-and-down movement of my foreskin in short strokes. The combination of friction over my rim and his tongue swiping across my taut gee-string launched me into an upward spiral of sensation that I knew wouldn't end until I was crying out helplessly as my prick throbbed in orgasm, spitting out torrents of sperm into his mouth.
I looked over at Ed and saw that his eyes were fixed on the scene, and I knew that he was enjoying my sensation vicariously. Now he was sliding his foreskin up and down the length of his hard purple helmet, stroking at a slow, measured pace, keeping his excitement under tight control. He, like I, knew that a long build-up contributed to a hot and intense orgasm, and he wanted it to last, at least until his engorged prick felt the contact of Harold's lips and tongue.
The short quick foreskin strokes over my rim produced a slight tickling, and I remained relaxed as the sensation intensified, circling my corona and then spreading all over my glans, especially where Harold's tongue was strumming my frenulum. Then the sensation changed abruptly.
"The whole helmet's tingling," I murmured as my eyes shut involuntarily. Harold's tongue sent hot sparks of sensation stabbing deeply into my gee-string and helmet, and I felt myself slipping away into the free-fall of orgasm. My crotch muscles tightened in a hot spasm as he sensations filled my glans and shaft, shooting down to the root and triggering my climax. I cried out helplessly as the first hot torrent shot into my tube, burning its way up the delicate tissues, and erupted into Harold's mouth.
Now I felt him yank my foreskin back all the way, baring the swollen sensitive helmet, and his lips pocked into the deep groove behind my sensitive corona. The friction was intense as my prick-root responded, shooting another heavy load up my prick. My body shuddered with the sensations, and I cried out again.
Harold's strong fingers kept my foreskin tightly back, and the tension this produced on my gee-string made me shoot again, another load of fiery liquid searing its way up my urethra. I was groaning mindlessly, my consciousness dominated by the joyful agony of my orgasm, as my body responded reflexively to the stimulation.
Another spasm gripped my insides, and I blew another stream of cream into Harold's mouth. Now he stopped moving his lips but just held my foreskin back tightly, maintaining the tension that was fueling my orgasm. My tip was now super-sensitive, and friction would have been devastating. Instead, he knew that keeping my frenulum taut was the way to keep me going.
I ejaculated several more jets, each weaker than the last, until I was drained. I felt myself relax, the tension leaving my body, abandoning it to the soft afterglow that crept over me. My prick began to soften, and I opened my eyes. Harold was pulling my hood up over the head.
"I'll be back to clean you out later," he said with an encouraging smile. "Right now Ed's cock needs attention." He was right. Ed had his prick straight up, foreskin tightly back to expose the dark purple helmet, glistening with lubricant. The odor of his prick filled the air and it drew Harold like a moth to the flame.
Harold got on his knees in front of Ed's spread legs and gripped the base of his shaft. His lips descended on the swollen glans, engulfing it in a heartbeat, and now he began rotating his head, applying the deliciously intense sideways friction that was sure to trigger Ed's orgasm within seconds. Ed gasped at the intensity of the sensations, and began moaning loudly. Harold cupped his free hand under Ed's tight sac as he worked on the engorged helmet. Now he gripped the skin of the tight sac and began stretching it downward, intensifying Ed's sensations. His head moved up, down, and sideways as I watched in fascination. I was sated, but the sight of Ed's rapid climb to orgasm gripped me.
Ed's moans became louder and then I saw his body arch as he released his first load of sperm. He threw his head back and yelped as I saw Harold's Adam's apple move in its effort to swallow Ed's discharge. Ed grunted hard as the second spasm gripped his body. Harold was working on his glans, shaft and scrotum, and Ed was helpless in his hands as the combined effort drew the orgasm relentlessly from his tortured body.
Ed's hips bucked, thrusting his hot hard prick deeply into Harold's mouth, searching for more friction against the swollen glans. Now Harold drew back slightly so that his lips touched only the front dome, because he knew that Ed's tip, like mine, became hyper-sensitive during orgasm. He kept Ed going by maintaining the tension on his foreskin frenulum, and scrotal skin, until Ed had emptied himself into his mouth.
As Ed's body relaxed, Harold returned to me. He slid a hand under my balls, probing for the posterior urethra. He pressed a finger into it, forcing the remaining fluid forward. Now he pressed against the underside of my shaft to push the residue up my prick. He slid my foreskin back far enough to bare my slit, and licked the dribble of sperm that emerged. Now he ran his tongue around my glans, cleaning it thoroughly, and made sure my prepuce fully covered my glans before he turned back to Ed.
He gave Ed's now shrunken prick the same treatment, sliding a fingertip the length of his urethra, and intercepting the creamy drop as they poured from the long slit. Then he cleaned the helmet thoroughly and replaced the hood over the head.
After a couple of minutes Ed and I were fully revived from the daze into which we'd fallen after coming, and Ed looked at Harold's swollen, unfulfilled prick. He spoke:
"I've got something special for you, something that maybe you never had before." He got up and went into the house, returning with a vibrator. The vibrator ran on household current, not batteries, and Ed plugged it in. He squirted several drops of Astroglide into the bell's cavity and spread the lubricant around the inside. "This lube makes it easier to slip the bell onto your helmet," he explained. "Ever use a vibrator?" he asked.
"I've got a little battery-powered on at home, small like a candle."
"This is pretty powerful," Ed explained, "because it runs on AC. It's also got a special attachment," he said while pointing.
"This is a custom-made cup that we made to fit over our heads. Yours is a lot like ours, so I think it's going to be a good fit for you." He grasped Harold's shaft to stabilize it while he slipped the bell-shaped cup over the glans and made sure it was seated fully before asking:
"Are you ready?" Harold nodded. "Okay, hold on tight. This will hit you hard." He turned on the switch and I heard the vibrator's loud buzzing. Harold gripped the arms of his chair convulsively, shocked at the intensity of the vibrations that were driving deeply into his glans and shaft. Harold had been hard for longer than either Ed or me, and the hammering sensations pushed him into orgasm immediately. He yelled loudly as his hips bucked, thrusting his hot tip upward as if to push it deeper into the vibrator bell. I saw the thick white cream leaking from under the bell's rim, flowing down the shaft as Harold's body convulsed again. Harold was crying out helplessly as we had, fully caught up in the fury of his orgasm. His eyes were closed and his face contorted as he blew load after load into the vibrating bell.
Ed and I knew exactly what he was feeling, as we'd used the vibrator on each other many times. We gazed into each other's eyes in silent understanding, contemplating the heavy buzzing that drilled into Harold's hot hard helmet and intensified his sensations. We knew that this was irresistible, inevitably bringing on climax despite any effort to remain relaxed, and accentuating each ejaculation by heightening the sensations.
Ed kept the bell pressed firmly onto Harold's helmet, ensuring good contact to give him the maximum benefit of the hot sensations. When he was satisfied that Harold was thoroughly drained, Ed turned off the vibrator and removed the bell from Harold's shrinking helmet. I leaned forward, inhaling the characteristic chlorine odor as I licked his glans and shaft clean.
"This works especially well with circumcised guys," Ed said as Harold opened his eyes. "The nerve endings on the surface of your glans are dried out and less sensitive, but a powerful 110 volt vibrator hits the deep-seated ones too, and this gives you really powerful sensations."
"You can say that again," Harold said, shaking his head. "That was wonderful. Thanks a lot, guys." I leaned down to hug him, saying:
"Thanks to you, too. You gave me a really hot orgasm a few minutes ago. You really drained me."
"You really drained me too," Ed echoed. "I'm glad we were able to give you a hot one in return. Now let's go in and shower, and get ready for bed. Harold's got to get up early."
Continued in Part 4