Date: Tue, 13 Mar 2007 09:19:24 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jacksantoro1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Arrest Record, Part 1, Adult Friends, 1/?

Arrest Record, Part 1
By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com

Introduction: This is a continuation of the exploits
of Ed and Jack, agents of ICE (Immigration and Customs
Enforcement) previously laid out in "Awareness Level"
and "Arrest Powers." Terrorism is a real threat in
today's world, and the real-life ICE Agents are doing
their part in coping with the problem, although
perhaps not in exactly the same way as portrayed in
these stories.

	Ed and I share a house on the outskirts of
Washington, DC, our official base. However, as we're
in Special Operations, we often travel on various
assignments. Not all of our working time is a
thrill-a-minute, though. This day we'd been assigned
by our supervisor to help break in Harold, a new ICE
agent assigned to Special Ops. Part of the reason was
that we had about ten years' experience on the job,
and the other part was that there was nothing
happening that required our talents.
	Ed and I sat with Harold in our cramped office at
headquarters. Ed and I were in our 30s, and Harold was
easily 10 years younger, with a fresh, unlined face
and thicker hair. We were all about six feet, with
weight in proportion to height. As we worked for a
real law enforcement agency, unlike some of the
bureaucracies that infest Washington under the guise
of being law enforcement, we were all fairly muscular
and agile. Also, instead of three-piece suits, we wore
uniforms and gun belts.
	"Some of our assignments are pretty routine," Ed was
explaining to Harold. "Sometimes we work a port of
entry to spot a terrorist trying to enter the country.
That involves checking a lot of passports, looking for
things that seem out of place, and spot-checking some
people."
	"What do you look for?" Harold asked.
	"We look for several things, and the first principle
is not just to see, but to observe," I took up the
discourse. "When we look someone over, we look for
small details, such as clothing that doesn't seem to
match his station in life. Also, we look at the
passport carefully. We caught one guy because his
passport had an issue date two years old, but it
looked as if it had been printed last week."
	"We look to see if the person has a lot of money,
while claiming to be an unskilled laborer," Ed
continued. "We look at his hands. If he says he's a
field worker but has hands like an office worker, we
know something's wrong."
	"Do you watch out for Moslems?" Harold asked.
	"Sure we do, but remember that not all terrorists are
Moslems and not all Moslems are terrorists," I
answered. "We've had some pretty nasty all-American
terrorists all through this country's history.
Remember Timothy McVeigh? Right now our main concern
is Moslems trying to enter the country for nefarious
purposes, but we have to remain alert to other
possibilities. Just because some Moslem terrorists are
trying to get in doesn't mean that Latin American drug
cartels have given up trying to smuggle dope."
	"One tool we use is the watch list," Ed added. This
lists all the identities connected with criminals,
terrorists, drug smugglers, and other people we
consider undesirable. This keeps out the obvious
penetrations, but we know that terrorists travel under
other identities. They use various covers to get
around the watch list and to maintain lower profiles."
	"Another problem we face is that Moslems don't all
look like Saddam Hussein," I said. "Moslem is a
religion, not a race. While many have a Middle Eastern
appearance, there are African Moslems, Caucasian
Moslems, and others. You see how complicated our
problem is."
	"Still, you two guys have a pretty good arrest
record," Harold piped up. "That's why I was assigned
to you."
	"What else did you hear about us?" Ed asked. "I'd
been waiting for this. I'd wondered if the new guy had
been told that Ed and I are gay lovers.
	"Well, the boss told me you were gay," Harold
replied. "In fact, that's one reason why he assigned
me to you. My background check turned up that I'm gay
too, and he thought we'd get along well together."
This statement had cleared the air, and I felt more
confident that we'd get along well with Harold.
	"It's almost five now," Ed stated. "It's almost
closing time, and maybe we could continue this
discussion at our place. Anyway, we can offer you a
great steak dinner." Harold's face lit up at this, and
he accompanied us out to the parking lot, where he got
into his company car, ready to follow us. The hour's
commute was no worse than most days, and we pulled
into our driveway long before dark.
	"We always strip down when we get home," I told
Harold and Ed and I began removing our uniforms.
"We've got a high fence around our back yard so we can
go bare-assed. Anyway, we'll be grilling the steaks
outside." Harold followed suit, and soon we were all
naked.
	Inevitably, our eyes dropped to each others'
crotches. Ed and I had small pricks, as we were both
`growers,' with long pendulous foreskins that dangled
off the ends. Our big helmets made the fleshy tubes
bulge. Harold, on the other hand, was a `shower,' with
a long shaft topped by a big helmet but with a thick
brown scar ring instead of a foreskin. Like many
American males he'd been circumcised.
	"Drink beer?" Ed asked as he withdrew three bottles
from the refrigerator. Harold accepted his gratefully
and Ed and I began working on the evening meal. It
didn't take long to fire up the barbecue and get the
potatoes roasting, and then we assembled the salad.
Once we had the outside table set, we finished our
beers and began on three more. We sat in the lawn
chairs while the potatoes finished cooking, the most
time-consuming part of the preparation.
	"One thing we've got in our favor is that all Moslem
males are circumcised," Ed continued with the
discourse. Harold looked surprised and said:
	"Lots of guys are circumcised. I am. They did me when
I was born. How does that help you?"
	"That's right, Harold. Lots of American males are
circumcised, like you. Most Europeans and Asians are
not, unless they're Moslem by religion. It's the same
with Latin Americans. Most haven't been cut. If we
find a circumcised guy trying to get in on a passport
from one of those areas we know we have to check him
out further," Ed replied.
	"We had one Latin American guy try this a year ago,"
I added. "He claimed to be a Guatemalan peasant and
even carried a crucifix around his neck. He was even
able to recite the Hail Mary. When we stripped him
down we saw he'd been clipped, and that gave him way.
He was Arabic but was trying to look like a Latin
American. His cover was perfect except for that."
	"These guys trying to get in are not going to be
carrying a copy of the Koran, and they're not going to
be shouting `Allah Akbar' at the port of entry," I
continued. Ed looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I
nodded and he spoke:
	"Another thing is that most Moslems shave their pubic
hair. This isn't required by the Koran but it's a
strong tradition with them. So if you find a guy who
claims to be Asian or South American, or European, and
he's got no foreskin or pubic hair, you know you've
got a hot one. I don't care if he wears a clerical
collar and carries a rosary and a bible. You hold him
while you check him out thoroughly." Ed got up to put
on the steaks and the discussion paused.
	After dinner we cleaned up and Ed dispensed more
bottles of beer. Harold had a question:
	"What if he has an American passport or what if the
person is a woman? I decided to answer:
	"Then you might be screwed unless you catch some
contraband during the search. Still, you've got a
couple of things going for you. One is that while most
Americans are circumcised, few shave their pubic hair.
Another is that Moslem women also shave their
crotches. Some Moslem women undergo female genital
mutilation, but that requires a medical exam. You
can't do that yourself. If you're strongly suspicious,
and a doctor confirms that a woman's been mutilated
and she shaves her crotch, it's a sure thing she's
Moslem."
	"I really envy you guys," Harold said. "You were both
lucky not to have been clipped. Those long hoods look
good on you."
	"I'm sorry you were," I responded. "Still, since
you're here, we'll be glad to share our foreskins with
you."
	"Sure," Ed added. "Feel free to handle them. They
love attention." Ed spread his legs as he spoke,
giving Harold full access to his crotch. Harold eased
out of his lawn chair and sat on the grass in front of
Ed. He reached out to grasp the long nipple of Ed's
foreskin between two fingers, rolling it sensually. I
saw Ed's prick begin to engorge, and as I watched mine
began swelling as well from vicarious excitement. I
went over to sit next to Harold on the grass and
reached down to give his big pinkish-purple helmet a
few gentle squeezes.
	"Oh, that makes my insides tighten up," Harold
commented as I continued squeezing his rapidly
swelling tip. His prick did not lengthen much, just
hardened to a full six inches. He reached down with
his other hand to begin squeezing my glans through its
thick fleshy shroud. My prick immediately responded as
the root contracted with each squeeze. It didn't take
long until we were all hard.
	"We're all around six inches," Ed commented as he
scrutinized all three erections.
	"We've all got big tips," I added. "They're all
helmets, with that sexy flaring ridge at the back."
	"But you guys have skin covering your tips," Harold
riposted. "Hell, you've got lots of skin. Usually
uncut guys' skins come off the head when they get
hard. You've got enough to cover the head." He looked
thoughtful for a moment. "They do skin back, don't
they?" Ed smiled at him and suggested:
	"Why don't you see for yourself? Go ahead, skin me
back." At these words Harold shifted his grip
slightly, closing his thumb and forefinger around the
foreskin covering Ed's glans, and began pushing the
skin down. The blunt purple nose of Ed's glans came
into view as the orifice stretched, losing its
wrinkles. A large drop of clear fluid seeped from
between the long lips of Ed's slit, filling the
foreskin's orifice. Harold pushed Ed's foreskin
farther down and then inhaled deeply.
	"I love that smell," he remarked. "You really smell
like a man should smell. I wish mine smelled like
that." As he spoke he pushed Ed's hood farther down so
that now the orifice was stretched over Ed's flaring
corona. I saw a thin coating of white covering the
glossy surface of his glans. Now Harold removed his
other hand from my prick and grasped Ed's prick with
both hands, stabilizing it as he pushed the foreskin
down so that it snapped into the deep groove behind
his rim. Meanwhile, I continued to apply gentle
squeezes to Harold's helmet.
	"I said we'd share our skins with you," Ed told
Harold. "Have you ever had another guy's skin over
your head?"
	"You mean docking?" Harold asked. "No, I read about
it and I've seen pictures on the Internet, but since
most guys I've known were cut, I've never been
docked."
	"How about the uncut guys?" I asked.
	"None of them had skins as long as you two," Harold
answered. They were too short to dock me. Anyway, I've
got a big head. You'll have to use all your skin to
dock me."
	"Let's go inside where we'll be more comfortable for
docking," I suggested. We arose and trooped into the
house, where Ed and I led Harold to the bedroom. A
queen size bed awaited us, and we sat side by side on
the edge.
	"Do you wash that off?" Harold asked, pointing at the
whitish creamy film covering Ed's engorged helmet.
	"Yeah, I do, but not now. That's going to be the
lubricant for when I dock you." He pulled Harold down
onto the bed facing him so that their two pricks were
end to end. I got behind Harold and stabilized his
circumcised prick while Ed pulled his foreskin
forward. Now their tips touched and Ed's skilled
fingers began urging his foreskin forward over
Harold's glans. Harold sighed as Ed's ample hood
engulfed his glans.
	"I never felt a guy's skin over my tip before," he
said.
	"Now that I've got you inside my foreskin let me do
the work," Ed suggested. "I'm going to use my skin to
massage your tip until you come." Ed now had Harold's
helmet completely covered, right down to the corona.
	"I don't think that's going to take long. I'm already
so hot from handling you guys and feeling my tip
covered by your skin."
	"You've also got a full bladder," I added. "That adds
to the tension." I lay down behind Harold, wrapping my
arms around him because I wanted to feel him when he
came. Over his shoulder I could see Ed's fingers
aggressively working his foreskin over Harold's
swollen helmet, fueling his excitement. Harold had
placed his hand in Ed's crotch, cupping his sac. I
knew their balls were tight against their bodies with
excitement, because mine were.
	"I'm going to try to make us come together," Ed told
him. "It's really hot when you feel the other guy's
tip against your while you're both coming."
	"That's why you're mainly rubbing your skin on my
helmet," Harold observed. "Mine isn't as sensitive as
yours." His breathing was coming faster now as his
excitement mounted. I pressed myself against him,
feeling him begin to thrust slightly as his body
responded to the stimulation. I realized that my
foreskin still covered the end, as Harold had never
retracted it. My prick was pressed between my stomach
and his buttocks, the hard core straining inside its
covering hood.
	I saw that Ed had changed his stroke over the head of
Harold's prick. Now he was administering a twisting
motion, concentrating on the rim, calculated to hit
the abundant nerve endings in the corona. Harold
moaned at the new sensation, and I felt the tension in
his body increase.
	"I'm close, so close," Harold muttered an Ed's
sensual stroking dragged him close to the brink.
	"Me too," Ed answered. "Just try to stay relaxed and
we'll come together." Although Ed had been applying
both pressure and friction to Harold's glans, the
movement of his foreskin had also stimulated his
prick. The inside of Ed's foreskin, richly endowed
with nerve endings, had absorbed a lot of stimulation
during the last few minutes, and as he'd twisted it
over Harold's glans it had also moved over the
sensitive surface of Ed's helmet, adding to his
sensations.
	Both of them were breathing hard now, and as I
listened I heard their breathing change to closely
spaced grunts as they rode to the peak. Harold was not
thrusting harder, pressing his engorged tip deeper
into Ed's foreskin and pressing it against the blunt
end of Ed's glans. Their grunting grew louder and more
ragged, and I knew that they were past the point of no
return. Even if the roof caved in they would be
floating in the free-fall of orgasm within seconds.
	Harold was the first to cry out, and I felt the spasm
go through his body as he released the first torrent
of sperm. A second later Ed's cry of joyful agony
filled the air, and I knew that his jet had splashed
against the front of Harold's throbbing glans. Harold
yelped now, his body straining against mine as I held
him tightly, as he flooded Ed's foreskin with another
load. I saw white cream running out of the end of Ed's
foreskin, filling the air with the familiar chlorine
odor of fresh sperm.
	Having docked with Ed and a couple of other guys, I
knew what Harold and Ed were feeling. Their orgasms
were heightened by the feel of the other's glans
throbbing hard against their own, and the sensation of
hot sperm bathing their tips. I knew what it was like
to have a jet of hot cream washing over my corona and
rushing into the deep groove behind it.
	Both men shot again and more chlorine-scented cream
flowed from under Ed's foreskin, along Harold's shaft
and falling down to saturate the bed sheet. Now their
spasms seemed to be weaker, although I was sure they
were still caught up in the throes of their orgasms.
Their thrusts had less urgency and their grunts were
not as loud as before.
	I had been vicariously enjoying their excitement, and
I was aware of the effect this had had on me. My
engorged helmet felt very wet inside my foreskin, as I
had seeped so much lubricant that my glans was almost
sloshing around inside its protective hood. Normally I
don't seep much, but this scene, in which I'd been a
passive participant by hugging Harold, had me very
turned on.
	Finally both Ed and Harold were still, the tension
leaving their bodies. I sat up and watched them
sinking into the daze that follows climax. Their
pricks slowly began to soften, and Ed's foreskin began
slipping off Harold's glans, releasing a stream of
cream that formed a puddle on the bed between them.
Harold's prick didn't shrink much as it softened,
ending up at a limp five inches, but Ed's deflated
sharply, the long foreskin forming a nipple beyond the
glans.
	"That was awesome," Harold whispered when he was able
to speak. "I never had such a hot one in my life."
	"What about the first time you came?" I asked. "Do
you remember that? Most guys do because that's the
hottest one they ever have."
	"Yeah, the first time seemed the hottest, but it was
dry, and this time it seemed like all my insides were
flowing out my cock. I was just pumping all I had into
Ed's skin."
	"It sure felt like it," Ed acknowledged. "I felt your
hot juice shooting against the front of my tip and
drowning it."
	"Your tip was throbbing against mine each time you
shot," Harold added. "That made it even hotter for
me."
	"I felt your throbs too," Ed stated. "You started to
come first and when I felt your big tip throbbing hard
against mine, that set me off." Now they were sitting
up, animatedly discussing their sensations. I knew
that this had been a wonderful docking experience for
them because they were very much in tune, reliving
their sensations.
	"Your tip was like a fire hose," Harold continued.
"It was just shooting that hot juice all over mine.
That was really hot!" His eyes turned toward me, and
then dropped to my prick. Ed followed his gaze.
	"Jack hasn't come yet," Ed commented.
	"His skin still covers the tip when he's hard, like
yours does," Harold observed.
	"Jack could have docked you too," Ed added. "But I
got there first."
	"I can see how his dick is drooling," Harold said.
"I'd sure like a taste of that." His eyes were fixed
on my prick and he leaned closer.
	"Go ahead, taste it," I urged. "There's natural lube
and some of my foreskin secretion too. It's not too
stale. I took a shower this morning." Harold
rearranged himself on the bed and his lips moved
closer to my prick. I lay back and Harold steadied my
prick with his left hand at its base. Holding it
upright. His tongue flicked out and touched the
pucker, lapping at the wetness.
	"I love that taste," he exclaimed. "It's thick like
syrup, but salty." He bent down again and I felt his
tongue tip probing into my foreskin, tickling my slit.
His tongue circled the front dome of my glans, licking
away the secretions, and then he raised his head
again.
	"That tasted even better," he said as he grasped my
foreskin-covered glans and began sliding the hood down
slightly to reveal the orifice. "His slit's different
from yours," he said to Ed. "Yours is a slit, like
mine. His pouts, like a teardrop."
	"See if you can stick your tongue inside," Ed urged.
"Jack likes that." I felt Harold's hot tongue probing
into my orifice, sending hot tickles into my nerve
endings, and I sighed in delight.
	"I like what you're doing," I said. "Keep it up."
Harold's tongue now pushed deeper into my foreskin,
stretching it as he probed for my flaring rim. I felt
his tongue distending my hood as it slid over the
broad upper surface of my glans in its quest. Now he'd
reached my corona and began sweeping his tongue down
one side, reaching the thick frenulum underneath.
	Harold paused there for only a second, and then began
working his way up the other side. He was humming
contentedly as his tongue swept around my glans,
following the contours. Now he was once more at the
top of my corona and I felt him push his tongue deeper
yet, right into my groove. My prick jerked reflexively
as I groaned in delight. Ed moved to my side and his
hand snaked between my thighs to cup my sac,
contracted with excitement. Harold raised his head
again and asked:
	"Okay if I make you come in my mouth? I'd really like
to taste your cream now that I've tasted your lube and
smegma. I really get off on that."
	"That's fine," I answered. "Whatever turns you on."
	"Do you shoot as much as Ed?" he asked.
	"He often shoots even more than I do," Ed answered
for me. "Now that he's been hard for longer than we
have, he'll probably blast quite a load."
	"I understand that," Harold said as he lowered his
head once more. His fingers slid my foreskin down
slowly, very slowly, to reveal the entire head. His
lips closed around my helmet, following the edge of my
foreskin as it retreated down my prick, until he'd
engulfed my entire glans. His lips locked into the
deep groove behind the corona as he held my foreskin
tightly back. His tongue worked all around my glans,
hitting the nerve endings as his lips tightened around
my groove.
	Now he began a triple action, pumping my foreskin up
and down my shaft in short strokes that bumped against
his lips, twisting his head, and working his tongue
wildly around my helmet. I suddenly realized that
things were totally out of my control. Although I was
trying to remain relaxed, the triple stimulation on my
prick in addition to Ed's gentle kneading of my tight
sac, were bringing me inexorably to the brink. My full
bladder added to the pressure, and I knew I'd be
unloading within a few seconds.
	My glans went into its final swelling, and my corona
flared under the pressure of Harold's lips. The
sideways friction from his lips inflamed the nerve
endings in my rim and groove, and I felt a sharp
tickle begin there. Deep inside me, I felt a drop of
lubricant begin to crawl up my urethra. His tongue-tip
drilled into my gaping orifice, sending more
sensations into my tender tissues.
	The tickling feeling expanded to fill my entire
helmet from dome to rim, and then all the sensations
came together and exploded. Hot sparks of sensation
stabbed deeply into my swollen helmet, shooting down
to the root of my prick, and I cried out as the first
hard contraction overwhelmed me.
	The sharp spasm deep inside me sent a jet of hot lava
pouring into my urethra, and I felt it searing its way
up my prick in its rush to the end. It slammed through
the lips of my slit and poured into Harold's waiting
mouth. I grunted as the second spasm sent another
burning jet through my prick, and I felt Harold's
mouth sucking hard at my throbbing helmet to draw the
cream from it. He twisted his head again and another
rush of sideways friction ran along my rim, triggering
another spasm that made my entire body shudder.
	I was floating mindlessly, totally enthralled by the
shattering sensations as Harold forced another jet
from my hot, hard, throbbing prick. Each ejaculation
sent a hot thrill up my prick, and I was moaning
helplessly as the sensations numbed my conscious
thought and my body reacted by reflex. The sensations
seemed to blend into one another. I was aware of
Harold's lips and tongue working on my helmet; also
his hand pumping my foreskin in short strokes, but I
was also aware of Ed's strong fingers pulling and
stretching the thick skin of my scrotum.
	Now I was still writhing on the bed, moaning and
shooting, but my jets were weaker, although no less
pleasurable. My contractions seemed to be coming more
slowly, the volume of sperm was less, and the jets no
longer burned as they pumped up through my urethra.
	Finally, I was still, breathing heavily and coming
down off the high. My mind was in a fog, although I
was aware of Ed's lips against mine, and of Harold's
tongue and lips licking the residue of sperm off my
prick. I felt a fingertip pressing into my urethra
behind my balls, forcing the remaining fluid forward,
and then working up the underside of my softening
shaft. I was very aware of a large drop of fluid
parting the lips of my slit as it emerged, and then of
Harold's tongue lapping it up. The chlorine generated
by my heavy load of sperm filled the air.
When I revived enough to speak I said:
	"Thanks, guys. That was out of this world."
	"I really enjoyed sucking your uncut dick," Harold
said in reply as he pulled my foreskin up to engulf
the head once more.
	"Ever suck as uncut one before?" Ed asked.
	"Yeah, several years ago. I had a college roommate
for a short while. He was uncut and I did him a couple
of times. He didn't have a dick like you guys. His
head was smaller and the skin only covered the back
half of it. When he got hard his dick looked cut
because the skin just stretched back along the shaft."
	"I think we should hit the shower," I suggested. We
got up and entered the adjoining bathroom. Ed and I
had modified the shower stall, making it larger, so
that several people could fit comfortably inside. By
now we were all soft, and our pricks dangled in front
of us. The hot water coursing down our bodies
stimulated the urge to pee, and as Harold had his
glans permanently exposed, he was the first to let go.

	Without saying a word, Ed and I decided to give
Harold a show. We grasped the ends of our foreskin
nipples as we relaxed our sphincters, and Harold got a
good look at how our foreskins began to bulge under
the volume of the trapped urine. When our hoods were
fully distended, we let go simultaneously and the
trapped fluid gushed out forcefully. When our
foreskins were drained we pinched them shut again and
our fluid distended them.
	"I never saw that before!" Harold exclaimed. "Do all
uncut guys do that?" Ed and I released our hoods and
went through a third cycle.
	"No, not all," Ed replied, answering for us both. "We
like to do it because it's fun, but some other guys
might do it when they can't take a shower and want to
wash the cheese from inside their hoods. Guys out
hiking, hunting, or camping just might not have enough
water for bathing, so they improvise like this."
	"We've been doing this since we were kids," I added.
	"So that's one of the wonderful things you can do
when you've still got your skin," Harold concluded. By
now we'd drained our bladders completely and we set
about soaping each other.
	"I skin back to rinse my helmet and foreskin," I
explained as I demonstrated it for Harold. "However, I
don't use soap. I don't need it. I'm also careful to
rinse thoroughly just in case a little soap residue
drips down from my body."
	"Can I do you?" Harold asked, turning to Ed.
	"Sure, Harold, go ahead." Ed thrust his hips forward
slightly to give Harold better access to his groin and
Harold's fingers wrapped around Ed's prick right
behind the head, slowly drawing the long hood back
over the glans. The wrinkled skin became smoother as
it stretched, ending up locked behind Ed's flaring
rim. The water sluicing down Ed's body rinsed his
glans.
	"Stretch the skin back a little more," Ed coached
Harold. "Right now it's right up against my corona,
and there might be a little soap trapped there."
Harold pulled back on the skin of Ed's shaft, drawing
the foreskin away from the rim and allowing the hot
water to flow into the groove. By this time I'd pulled
my foreskin down to cover my helmet and was fully
rinsed.
	"Can I pull your skin down now?" Harold asked Ed.
	"Go right ahead. I think it's thoroughly rinsed."
Harold exerted traction and Ed's foreskin bumped over
his rim and rolled downhill to re-cover his glans,
forming a nipple below it. I turned off the water and
reached for towels outside. We dried each others'
bodies and returned to the bedroom.
	"Time for some sleep," Ed declared, looking at
Harold. "Care to chare a bed with us?" Harold looked
at the queen-size and replied:
	"Okay, it looks like there's plenty of room." We
quickly changed the soggy sheets and curled up
together under the covers.
Continued in Part 2

Note: There is a Department of Immigration and Customs
Enforcement (ICE) but the Special Operations Section
is a product of my imagination created for the purpose
of the story. Probably there is a corresponding
section in ICE, but with a different name. The "9/11
Task Force" is also a fictional creation, but there
have been rumors of the special treatment accorded
terrorists secretly held in secret prisons for
protracted and painful interrogation.