Special Assistant
Part 15
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 walked home through the shopping areas which line the Potomac near Georgetown. It was a beautiful day and it was crowded. I ran into Admiral Billy and Marty having coffee at an open air cafe. I joined them. The Cafe was next to a small, expensive hotel. We had a clear view of the entrance.
I was surprised when I saw Randall leave the hotel. I pointed him out to Billy. A second later another man left. He walked in the opposite direction, but glanced back at Randall and smiled.
"Holy shit!" Billy exclaimed under his breath. "It's Prince Abdul."
Marty glanced at the departing man. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," Billy said in an irritated tone of voice.
"Who's Prince Abdul?" I asked.
"Let's find a more private place," the Admiral replied. I lived a few blocks away, so we adjourned to my apartment. Once we were inside, I asked who the Prince was again.
"Officially he's cultural and charitable officer at the Saudi embassy," Marty said. "In reality he's in intelligence. Counter terrorism, we think. Mostly he's in charge of damage control."
"I thought the Ambassador did that?" I replied.
"The Ambassador is the front man. Prince Abdul is in charge of payoffs. He owns a few newspaper men and cable reporters, but mostly he gets the friends and associates of problematic Saudi subjects out of the way."
"Whose side is he on?"
"Our side when were are dealing with minor figures who are of no importance. Our enemy when dealing with significant issues," Marty explained. "He protects his people no matter what they do."
"I thought they were making some headway with fanatical groups in Saudi?" I said.
"If they are fanatically anti American and anti Royal family, yes. If they are fanatically anti American and members of, or friends of the Royal family, no," Marty explained. "Bin Laden is upper crust. Not quite Royal family, but close. They've made a pact with the devil and don't realize it may bring then all down."
"What is the Prince doing with Randall?" I asked. "He can't be much of a media catch."
"Is Randall the kind of man who would brag about the powerful men he knows?" Billy asked. "Would he tell stories illustrating how close he is to those powerful men?"
"Damn, you've nailed it," I said. "That's Randall."
"If a foreign government knew there was a homosexual sex ring in the White House, do you understand how valuable that information might be?" Billy asked.
"My sources tell me some parts of the administration are overly kissy-kissy with the Israelis," Marty said. "We know our policies largely match those proposed when they worked for Israel. If you combine that information with potential sexual blackmail of oil manipulation by the Saudi's you arrive at truly bad policies."
"Maybe that could explain the problems," I said. "We're being pushed in one direction by the Israeli connection and in the opposite direction by the Saudis."
"It may explain some of it," Admiral Billy mused. "Delusion and denial are the mother of disaster. I don't want to believe it, but this could be the end."
"The end of what?" I asked.
"America as a great power," he answered. "And certainly it's the end of America as a force for good. I didn't like Clinton, but he was careful and frugal in every respect other than sexual."
"Bush is recklessly daring and spends like a drunken sailor. I thought at least he didn't play around with young women," Marty said. "It's funny. Clinton was a flaming hetro sexual, but aggressively pro gay. Bush's administration is violently anti gay and seems to be closeted."
"I don't see there is anything wrong with being closeted," Admiral Billy stated. "It worked for me."
"Shit, it worked for me too," Marty admitted. "I at least admitted to myself I was gay. I sure as hell didn't lead an anti gay crusade. I do know some men who turned their sexual leanings into a massive case of self hate. You can get really screwed up that way."
"Like Steven Martineau?" I asked.
"That remains to be seen," Marty said. He had to meet someone, so he left me with Admiral Billy. I knew what Billy wanted, but as I had been royally fucked that morning, I wasn't sure I was up to it. I told Billy that and he was understanding. As it turned out, I underestimated the power of Nate's special ingredient at brunch.
"I'm afraid a couple of guys have been in my ass already today." I said.
"Anyone I know?" Billy asked.
"Believe it or not, you do," I replied. "The Bishop and Gill took turns. They both shot off and it might be messy." The Admiral looked me in the eye and I knew using his friend's cum as lubricant wouldn't be a problem for him. Or for me either. We went to my bedroom.
The first time the Admiral fucked me it had been exciting and a bit scary. I had no idea if I could take a cock as large as his. I was just as excited now, but the fear was gone. I knew it might hurt some, but I also knew it was worth it.
"Jason, I'm not in much of a sensitive mood today," Billy said. "I want to fuck, not make love. Do you mind?" I said it was okay. He pushed me onto the bed, grabbed my legs and held them wide. Then he pushed my legs back so they were pinned against my chest. My ass hole was wide open and undefended.
Billy fucked me like a mad man. He pounded deep on the first thrust and just as deep on the next twenty or thirty thrusts. I could barely breathe. My earlier adventures had left me open. Billy took full advantage of this and seemed to ram deeper into my body with each successive thrust. He stopped suddenly and rolled me to the side. Billy got on the bed, then entered me from the rear.
He had grabbed one leg and held it up so my ass was still wide open, but he was gentle this time. My ass was tingling from the rough fucking of a few seconds earlier. The gentle cock massage was unbearably sensual. Billy knew where the good spots were in my ass and his bloated cock head lingered at each spot.
I felt as if I were going to shoot any moment, but since I had already shot off, I lingered at that pre orgasmic state for a solid half hour. The continual contact between his cock and my rectum was incredible. I finally shot off, but Billy wasn't through.
"Haven't you cum yet?" I asked.
"Jason, I shot off twice," he replied. "Somehow it was just too good to pull out." He never lost his erection and continued slow pumping. The slow rhythm of his cock against my prostate was almost hypnotic. I slipped into a sexual daze. My ass was totally open, totally responsive to the huge cock.
Billy had told me he wanted to fuck, but now he was making love. After fifteen or twenty minutes Billy would shift and try a new position. Several times he picked up the pace. He would then ram me hard once or twice and I knew he was ejaculating.
He left his cock in my ass after each orgasm and a short while later, he would start pumping again. I didn't know how many times I shot off. It was hard to separate the events of the afternoon. After two hours of continuous fucking, Billy was finished. Up until this time I thought of sex as short episodes climaxing in an orgasm. I hadn't visualized hours of sex. I saw sex as a sprint, not as a marathon. Billy had to go and meet friends for dinner. I went to sleep.
The next morning, I went over to see Rolf. I was surprised to find James Wilson, the Minority Leader's aid we had met the day before still there. He answered the door. I must have looked surprised.
He smiled. "Don't worry, I'm on the way home," he said. He was carrying an overnight bag as he left.
"Is that you, Jason?" Rolf called from the other room.
"It is," I yelled as I walked into the living room. Rolf looked happy. "I take it you and Mr. Wilson hit it off?" I asked.
Rolf laughed. "I guess you could say that. Jim and I have enjoyed ourselves. We hit it off."
"I hope it wasn't all platonic," I said.
"It wasn't at all platonic," Rolf said. "He's looking for a daddy and thinks he has found one."
"Has he?"
"I don't really know," Rolf replied, "We do get along well. It's nice to be worshiped. Have you been playing monk since I saw you last?"
"Almost non stop sex," I said. "I ran into Randall. He's been playing around with Prince Abdul. I just happened to be with the Admiral and Marty when we saw them together."
"I will bet they weren't too happy about that."
"They didn't like the potential for blackmail," I said.
"Apparently our friend Randall had been making friends in the Congress too," Rolf said. "He must have very good gaydar, or he's being tipped off by his friend in the White House. I like to think of myself as a man of the world, and Lord knows, I've seen a good deal of it, but Randall is a one of a kind. He must be totally amoral. He's fucking men in the White House, the press corps, foreign agents and member's of Congress. I wonder if he remembers who he is working for?"
"Being a 100% All-American male hooker and family values kind of guy takes some mental gymnastics," I observed. "He seems to be self confident, does anyone know anything about his background?"
"He could be a space alien as far as I can tell," Rolf said. "Most people here come with resumes a mile long. Randall has nothing. I may have to get Marty working on that. He specializes in men with no past."
"Does your new friend Jim have a past?" I asked.
"President of his High School, distinguished academic career at UVA, accomplished in every way," Rolf said. "He's the kind of man you find scores of here. I think he may be deeper than the unusual man on the make. I got the impression his form of rebellion is doing good deeds for the environment instead of joining his father's company as vice-president for New Projects."
I laughed. " That sounds a bit like me. Dad would have liked to have had me join the company, but I wanted a career." I said. "I'm not flawed by having a good academic career, like Mr. Wilson. Average grades here."
"I think you're selling yourself short," Rolf said. We talked for a while longer then we got down to work. Friends came to pick Rolf up for dinner so I got home early. As I waled up to my door, Jim Wilson appeared and said hello.
"This is quite a coincidence," I said, "running into to you twice in one day."
"It's not quite a coincidence," Jim said. "I wanted to talk with you." I asked him in for a beer. We sat in my kitchen. After some small talk and an uncomfortable lull in the conversation, Jim got down to the reason for his visit.
"I really hit it off with Rolf this weekend," Jim said. "I didn't know if he was . . . ? I mean, I'm I screwing up something? He speaks so highly of you. "
"Don't worry. I work for Rolf and would like to think of him as a friend," I said. "It's not a romantic attachment."
"He told me you had sex together." Jim murmured.
"That's for fun, not love," I explained. "No strings attached and no promises made. I take it you feel differently about him?"
"I think so," he replied. "He's like so many of my father's friends. Successful, distingue and impressive looking, but he isn't narrow. He's interested in things other than the profitability of his company and his golf handicap. You can actually talk to him about environmental issues and he knows what you are talking about."
"He's a sex machine too," I added.
"I've never known anyone like him," Jim said. "He enjoyed it as much as I did. He wore me out."
I smiled at him. "I'll bet you came back for more?" Jim nodded.