Special Assistant
Part 14
By Bald Hairy Man e-mail bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com
This is an adult story intended for adults. It is a fantasy, so I again remind you that I have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and have included no gestures toward common sense either. These are all new stories. Please e-mail me if you have any suggestions or comments.
I spent the night at Watson's apartment. Wizard woke me at three and screwed me a second time, then again at six. I was relaxed the second time and more like Jell-O than a man the third. As I relaxed, Wizard got deeper and a bit more aggressive. Less tense, I enjoyed it more.
"Jason, I've never been able to break in a man so fast before," Wizard whispered to me.
"What do you mean?"
"It takes a long time for most guys to relax enough to enjoy it," he said. "For some, it's just the novelty of having my monster in their ass. It's not fun for them. They think of it as a genital trophy."
"Like the fish that didn't get away mounted on the wall?" I asked.
Wizard gave me several deep thrusts before he answered. "I guess you could put it that way," he replied. "I get the feeling you like this as much as I do." I couldn't answer him right away. He had shifted my position and the telephone pole in my ass hit something new. It was almost too much.
Watson woke. "Have you guys been at it all night?" he asked.
"Not quite all night," Wizard replied. "You have nice friends."
"He's good for a Republican," Watson replied. With that comment Wizard gave me a hard thrust and we both shot off. It's hard to have a simultaneous orgasm, but Wizard and I did it. We twitched and shivered together, each ejaculation was perfectly timed.
I went off to work, but I said I'd get to the Library of Congress to hear Wizard's lecture later in the week. It was a busy week for Rolf and for me. He had several appointments and an interview for a magazine. I took him to a meeting with the former Secretary of State. She lived in a rather quiet and unassuming house near Washington Cathedral. I was surprised when Marty appeared. I didn't know the other men and women, but I had the feeling I should have known who they were.
I soon realized these were the Assistant Secretaries and Under Secretaries who actually ran their departments. I dropped off Rolf at 2:00 and picked him up at 5:00. Rolf didn't talk on the return drive, so I let it slide. Rolf would tell me what was up when he was ready. A few weeks later I found out I had made points with Rolf by not asking. He told me the meeting was disturbing and he needed time to think it over.
If Rolf was disturbed that evening, the next morning's Post worried him even more. The Press Secretary was found dead, floating in the reflecting pool at the base of the Lincoln Monument. The article said, "White House functionary killed in freak accident." That was hard to believe.
The White House Press office did its job and the official story seemed to be accepted by the mainstream media. There was some whispering about being considerate of the dead man's family. No one seemed to think it was odd when a healthy advisor to the President went for a walk sometime between two and three in the morning and accidentally fell into the reflecting pool and died.
Kevin Magnuson, our detective friend dropped in a few days later and gave us the inside scoop. The Park Police found the Press Secretary nude below the waist, drowned in two feet of water. There was no blow to the head and the best guess was that someone had held him down. There was a high level of alcohol and of Crystal-Meth in his blood.
He apparently had been gang raped, or gang banged before he died. Sperm from six men was found in his ass and rectum. The F.B.I. was handling the investigation and the Metropolitan police were specifically excluded from the case. This really rubbed the Metropolitan Police the wrong way. They were use to dealing with delicate situations. After all, a parking ticket served on a diplomatic car could cause an international incident. They knew how to deal with sensitive cases.
I told Kevin of my experience with Steven in the Cosmopolitan Club. Kevin knew most of what I told him and had guessed the rest. "I wonder if the Press Secretary shared Steven's fantasies? He may have taken his abuse fantasies to the wrong group of men," Kevin said.
"Or perhaps his fantasies became a problem, or he became a rival for Randall's affections. Someone decided to get rid of him," Rolf suggested. "His taste for masochism could have been his undoing. It would be easy to use that as a cover for a political assassination."
"He has a wife and several kids," Kevin said. "There may be an effort to spare them embarrassment."
"I don't believe anyone in this administration gives a shit about a family's humiliation," Rolf said. "Look what they did to Vince Foster's family. No, it's a good way to escape from the very real embarrassment of a family-values administration with a few gay masochists in its innermost circle." We discussed to possible scenarios with Kevin, but found none of them particularly convincing.
I took to watching C-Spans broadcasts of the daily White House briefings. Much to my surprise Randall was still there and seemed to asking questions. He seemed to ask a question at just about every briefing. Whenever the acting Press Secretary got caught in a difficult line of questioning, he would call on Randall for a soft ball question.
Steven was Randall's patron in the White House. When the Press Secretary died, Randall's White House career blossomed. Randall's involvement with the White House increased. I wondered if the Press Secretary had been an impediment to Randall's career, or had blocked Steven's plans for advancing his protegee.
Before the murder Randall was quiet and in the background. Afterwards, Randall was much more in view. He was well on the way to becoming a fixture at the daily briefing. One thing didn't change. Randall continued to wear a day pass rather than the plastic encased photo identification badge all the other reporters wore.
The Press Secretary's death caused remarkably little stir, so little it was impossible to believe the White House had not applied massive pressure to keep it quiet. Kevin came at the end of the week and gave us an update. He was working on the case. "The FBI has it under control," he said.
"Does that mean what I think it means?" Rolf asked.
"They are looking into international terrorism and the chance possibility a homeless man killed him," Kevin explained. "It's hard to visualize six, homeless, gay, rapists meandering down the Mall at three in the morning. It would be laughable if a man wasn't dead. Murder ain't funny in my book."
"Could it be a love triangle?" Rolf asked. "Steven is clearly attached to Randall, but the Press Secretary was younger and more attractive. Steven doesn't take losing easily and will do anything to win."
"Lying, cheating and stealing is a long way form murder," Kevin said. "Steven Martineau is the arch-type of the white collar criminal. It would be a stretch for that sort of man to use violence."
"Masochists are complicated men," Rolf mused. "Senator Wilburn had the problem. He craved sex, but felt it was sinful. Wilburn needed a dominant sadist to force him into sexual acts. He could only enjoy sex if he was forced to. Most sadists are play acting, but some are disturbed. Most problems started with men who were play acting, but got carried away."
"Senator Wilburn died of a heart attack as I recall," Kevin said. "Was that really the case?"
"Technically, that was true," Rolf explained. "He was bound and gagged and had a panic attack while being whipped. It was tape recorded, so there was no question it was at Wilburn's own request. No charges were filed."
"Have you found any leads?" I asked. "Other than terrorists and sex-crazed, homosexual homeless men, I mean."
"We have enough DNA evidence to identify the men if we find them," Kevin answered. "Normally I would think the sexual aspect would exclude government agents, but our adventures in Iraq and at Gitmo make it's clear to this administration gay rape is as American as apple pie."
"I never thought there would be American torture chambers," Rolf commented. "Apparently homosexual sex is evil unless it's forced on unwilling prisoners."
"I never thought of it that way," Kevin mused. We talked for another ten minutes and Kevin had to get back to work. That evening Rolf and I went to the Library of Congress and heard Wizard's lecture. We got there a little late, but a good looking young man gave Rolf his seat and I stood in the aisle.
Wizard's lecture was impressive. He had a knack for putting complicated scientific concepts into easily understood terms and building up his argument logically and seemingly effortlessly. He wasn't an alarmist, but by the end of the lecture I sensed we were at a turning point. Deep in my heart I knew there was no way the current administration would be able to respond to, or even understand or the problems that faced us.
The lecture lasted an hour and a half, but it seemed like thirty minutes. Afterward, we went to a reception in the lobby. At first I thought the reception was for defeated Democratic Presidential candidates, but I did pick out one Republican Senator. I also ran into Gill, my acquaintance from the weekend in the country. He and Wizard were friends.
As we left, I saw the young man who gave up is seat for Rolf. I thanked him. He was James Wilson and was an aid to the minority leader of the house. He lived in Georgetown, so we gave him a ride home. My gaydar wasn't perfect, but I got some strong vibes from him. By the time we got home, it was clear Rolf was the object of attraction. Wilson liked older men.
I returned to my apartment and James stayed for a drink with Rolf. When I got back, my answering machine was blinking. It was Gill. He wanted me to stop in for brunch the next morning. I returned the call and said I'd be there.
Gil was staying with a friend in the Watergate Apartments. The view was spectacular. His friend was a curator at the National Gallery, Nate Bullock. Wizard, Watson and the Bishop joined us for breakfast. Nate was friendly and unassuming. At five feet five, balding and bearded, he was just plain ordinary looking. He and Gill were the odd couple. Gill was as distinguished as Nate was ordinary.
Nate was a great cook and the food was a long way from my standard Egg McMuffin breakfast. The conversation was good too. Bloody Mary's and Screwdrivers contributed to the open and pleasant conversation. I was a pleasant morning. The party was winding down when I walked in on Nate giving Watson a blow job in the bedroom. For some reason I was incredibly horny and hard as a rock, so I joined in. "I'm sorry," I said, "That looks too good to pass up."
"No problem at all," Nate said. "I added a little booster to breakfast. Everyone one should be hot to trot." He was right. A minute or two later everyone was in the bedroom, stripping. Everyone was horny and just as hard as I was.
I was afraid I was getting a reputation as a bottom, but with Nate there, I didn't need to worry. My interest in anal sex was but as a modest hobbyist compared to Nate. He was a 100% bottom sex pig. He loved it. Nate was also wildly enthusiastic about it and his enjoyment spread.
In my sexual experiences, anal was the high point of the sexual experience, the main course. With Nate as the Master of Ceremonies, fucking was the appetizer as well as the main course and desert. He liked ass holes. Rimming, licking and fucking, he liked it all. It was also clear he was a size queen. He had a tight ass and it wasn't easy, but he loved them big and he loved to watch a guy take a big one.
That is where I came in. I had taken both the Bishop and Wizard as well as Gill. Nate watched me sit on Wizard's cock as the Bishop worked his cock into his own, very tight hole. Nate moaned and twitched as the monster organ penetrated deeply into his rectum. Wizard sat on a chair and I was facing away from him as I impaled myself. Nate was on his hands and knees as the Bishop fucked him.
Nate's face was in my crotch and he tried to lick my asshole and Wizard's cock as we fucked. Once the Bishop's pubic hair touched Nate's ass, Nate was out of it. He was in a sexual trance, responding to the thrust of the horse cock.
After ten minutes Wizard and the Bishop traded places. I knew Gill liked to fuck, but Watson wasn't that interested. I didn't spend much time site seeing when I was fully impaled, but when Wizard held me up, so only his cock head was in my ass, I noticed Watson was fucking Gill doggie style. Clearly both men enjoyed it.
I don't know what Nate had put as a "little booster" in the food, but we went at it like dogs in heat for two hours. I didn't get tired. Shooting off several times, I stayed hard. The only time my ass was empty was when I traded partners.
I had two rest periods, one with Gill and one with Watson. They were both well endowed, but after wizard and the Bishop's monsters, they were relaxing. After the first half hour, the sex dissolved into a haze of pleasure. It was like a long sexual banquet, with each course flowing one to another.
Watson's cock was a surprise. He had a fireplug like organ and it was unexpectedly exciting. I don't know exactly what it hit, but it rang my chimes. A little bit later Gill was fucking Nate when Watson realized there was more room in Nate's ass and he was able to enter Nate's hole and share it with Gill. Watson shot off and pulled out. I saw an opportunity and shoved my cock into Nate's gaping hole.
Nate had been tight at the beginning of the session, but by now he was open enought to drive a train to his ass. With two cocks it was a tight fit, but Watson's cum provided addition lubricant.
Nate's ass was quivering and spasming. He tightened his ass and held my cock against Gill's. we rubbed to two organs together. I could move more than Gill, so I was essentially masturbating his cock with mine. I looked at Nate in the eye, he smiled and then tightened his ass as much as he could. Gill began to moan. I felt his cock twitch and I knew he was shooting.
My entire body shivered as my balls exploded. When I pulled out, sperm drooled from Nate's ass. Gill and I were wiped out, lying prone on the bed. Nate got up. He opened my legs and licked my ass hole.
The Bishop got behind him and fucked Nate one more time. "It's like a butter churn," he said.