Date: Fri, 6 Apr 2007 11:22:27 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jacksantoro1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Arrest Record, Part 11, Adult Friends, 11/?

Arrest Record, Part 11
By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com

	The following morning we followed the usual procedure
of having room service deliver breakfast to our room,
from which Harold carried the tray for three next
door. As it was early, and we felt more confident, we
decided to change our tactics somewhat. Harold, Ed,
Adams, Spicer, and I decided to go down for breakfast,
as we knew that Ted would immediately notify us on the
portable radio if there had been any contact.
	We spread out individually around the parking lot and
the adjacent street to observe for activity and
possible surveillance. None of us noticed anyone who
appeared to be  watching the hotel or its occupants.
After several minutes of casual searching we converged
on the dining room.
	"Ted and Paul seem pretty sharp," Ed told us. "I
didn't like them at first but they carry their weight
and their takedown technique is better than ours."
	"Ted gave us a frightening picture of what these guys
might be up to," Harold said. "I'm sorry to say it but
I think he's right."
	"He sure made a lot of sense," Adams agreed.
	"Still, these terrorists are forcing us to play by
their rules," Spicer pointed out. "I like the American
system of trial by jury, with all its drawbacks. Ted
and Paul snatch a guy, drug and question him, and then
send him off with a bullet in the head. That bothers
me."
	"I sympathize with you," I said. "Still, remember we
don't play by all their rules. We don't kill innocent
people." We were halfway through the meal by then, and
my portable radio buzzed. I answered it and told the
others:
	"Ted said the contact called and he'll be here by
ten. We've got time to finish." In a few more minutes
we were done and went back to our respective rooms. At
9:30 we heard footsteps in the hall and a knock on the
door of the room next door. There was the sound of a
scuffle and we bolted from our room to see what had
happened. Inside Amir's room Ted and Paul stood over a
neatly dressed gray-haired man in a suit who was lying
dazed on the carpet.
	"I guess he came early," said Spicer, who had
followed on our heels with Adams. Ted rolled the man
over and our eyes went to the oblong gold badge he
wore under his breast pocket. Harold read it and
swore:
	"Holy shit, `MANAGER'."
	We looked at each other anxiously. It took a few
seconds for us to shake off the shock and decide what
to do.
	"Let's carry him into our room," Ed suggested. "We've
got to get him out of sight." Ed and I picked the man
up and carried him back to our room, placing him on
the bed. Adams and Spicer followed us and Tec and Paul
got ready to receive another visitor.
	"Bad luck," I concluded. "Bad luck, the guy chose to
knock on that door at the wrong moment."
	"What did he want, anyway?" Adams asked.
	"Who the fuck knows? Who the fuck cares?" Ed replied.
The main thing is we assaulted an innocent person, and
now we've got to explain the mistake to him and hope
he keeps his mouth shut and doesn't file a complaint
and doesn't sue. We could be up shit creek over this.
This could blow our whole operation."
	"I hope nobody suggests that we just make this guy
disappear," Spicer said. We turned to look at him.
	"Well, this is the acid test, isn't it?" I said. "Now
you'll find out if we kill innocent people like the
terrorists do." As I finished we heard more footsteps
in the hall and another knock at Amir's door. We heard
the door open and then the thud of a body hitting the
floor. I waved to Harold to stay behind and we all
rushed next door. A tough-looking bearded man of about
20 or 25 lay on the floor, dressed in a windbreaker.
At least this guy wasn't wearing a manager's tag.
	"He tried to fight us," Ted began. "I've never seen a
guy with faster reactions than this bozo. I had to
thump him on the head so Paul could get the needle
into him." Amir was standing by the far wall, a look
of shock on his face.
	"I'd better give him another dose, and we'd better
forget about walking him out of here," Paul told us.
He knelt beside the newcomer and injected the contents
of another syringe into his vein.
	"Now we've got two problems, or maybe three," Ed said
with disgust. "Look, we'd better go downstairs, nice
and easy, and make sure there's no surveillance on
this building. Then once we're satisfied that we're
clean, we carry this guy down the back way and load
him in a car. Ted and Paul can take care of him from
that point." We all nodded that we understood, and I
went back to the room to explain the latest events to
Harold. I told him we'd be scrutinizing the area and
that he was to stay with the manager.
	Our careful search for surveillance turned up
negative, and we felt more comfortable as we loaded
the latest terrorist into a car for the trip to the
airport. Then we trooped back to the room while Ted
and Paul drove to the airport.
	"I hope you see that this was an innocent mistake,"
we heard Harold say as we entered. The manager was
sitting up on the bed still looking a bit foggy, but
he appeared to understand Harold's words. Harold sat
next to him, looking anxious.
	"I had to explain the situation to him," Harold told
us as we gathered around the bed. We understood the
implications without being told. Now the manager knew
about the operation and its implications, and we had
to trust him to avoid revealing this information to
the media and even his family.
	There was still some coffee left on the room service
tray next door, and I hurried to get it, hoping it was
still hot. I came back to hear the manager's voice:
	"I understand. I had a cousin who almost got killed
in the World Trade Center. I know how important this
is." I handed him the coffee and he nodded gratefully.
	"Why did you come up here, anyway?" Ed asked him, and
went on to explain that this had been the first time
any such mishap had happened.
	"Mr. Khaled's credit card expires today. The credit
card company is being bitchy about it and won't accept
it as payment." Khaled was Amir's last name, at least
the one he was using in America, and we looked at each
other.
	"Put his room on our bill," I told him. "The
government credit card is good."
	Later, Ed and I went to Amir's room. Amir was
distressed by the morning's events.
	"What happened with the manager?" We asked him.
	"There was a knock on the door, and when I opened it
Ted and Paul jumped out from behind the door and
pulled the man into the room. Ted kicked his legs out
from under him and they put him on the floor. Then
Paul injected him." It was easy to understand what has
happened. Ted and Paul had been primed to expect
Amir's contact, and had had no inkling that the
manager would pay them an unannounced visit.
	"What about your credit card?" I asked. The
arrangement had been that Amir would pay for his
expenses with his credit card and that the government
would cover the amount when the bill came due.
	"I am supposed to receive my new card in the mail but
you know that I haven't been home lately," he told us.
This was an administrative slip that could have
destroyed our entire operation.
	"We have to get him his new card," Ed said. "I'll
have our people in San Diego go to his apartment and
check his mail." He left to coordinate the operation.
	"It's essential that you show your credit card when
you check in," I explained. "We don't know if the desk
clerk at any of these hotels is working for the
terrorists and if you used a credit card we gave you
it might blow the whole operation. Now let's pack and
get on the road again.  Next stop is Chicago, and we
have three days to make it."
	Back on the road again, we took I-76 diagonally up to
I-80, which goes straight through Nebraska. During the
drive the word reached Ed over the radio that indeed
Amir's credit card had arrived at his apartment, and
that the San Diego office would assign one of its
agents to deliver it at our next stop. We had plenty
of time and we decided to stop in Omaha, taking a
hotel downtown. As this was not a contact point we pad
for Amir's room with a government credit card, certain
that it would not interfere with our operation.
	After checking in we walked around the old town,
stopping for dinner at a pleasant pizza shop in a
quaint old turn of the century building. Adams and
Spicer sat with us, as did Ted and Paul, who had flown
in that afternoon. After our pizzas had been delivered
to the table, a homeless man shambled in, begging for
food at several tables. When he came to ours Ted gave
him a slice. I'd pegged Ted as a pretty hard-boiled
type, and this demonstration of compassion surprised
me.
	Back at the hotel we went to our respective rooms. As
there was no contact expected, we let Amir have a room
to himself. Ted and Paul shared a room, Adams and
Spicer another, and Harold, Ed, and I shared a third.
Our room had two queen size beds but we didn't
undress, as we were expecting the courier with Amir's
credit card that evening.
	Shortly before nine there was a knock at the door and
Ed went to open it. A young blond guy about Harold's
age stood there, and when Harold saw him he jumped up,
saying:
	"George!" Harold embraced him warmly, and made the
introductions.
	"We went through the FLETC (Federal Law Enforcement
Training Center) together," Harold explained. Turning
to George, he added: "Ed and Jack are uncut! They've
got really long skins." George seemed to be a bit
confused, as we were.
	"We played around together while we were in
training," Harold added.
	"Glad to meet you," Ed said, extending his hand. "Any
friend of Harold's is a friend of ours."
	"We've been having a good time with Harold since he
joined our unit," I told George.
	"Do you have to be back right away?" Ed asked George,
who replied:
	"No, I flew in on a DHS airplane and I told the
pilots we'd be staying the night so they got
themselves a hotel somewhere near the airport. We'll
be flying back to San Diego at nine. I figured I'd get
a room here after handing over the credit card to you
guys." He reached into a side pocket of his sport
jacket and produced an envelope. I laid it on the
table to give to Amir in the morning.
	"You're welcome to stay with us," Ed told him. "You
won't have to go down and check in."
	"You'll enjoy it too," Harold added invitingly.
	"I'd really like to," George replied with a bright
smile. I began to strip down and Ed and the others
followed a moment later.	George's eyes were fixed on
Ed and me, while we watched George. He was about our
height, six feet, muscular, with blond hair and gray
eyes. As he dropped his boxer shorts I noted that his
prick was large when limp. He was a "shower," not a
"grower" as the rest of us were. His shaft was thick,
tapering down to a small glans that was red, not pink,
ahead of a thick circumcision scar. George's eyes went
to Harold's prick, covered by a condom.
	"What's that for?" he asked.
	"Getting the skin cut off made the head dry out.
I keep a lubed condom on 24/7 to make my tip more
sensitive.	I found even wearing it a week gave me
results."
	"Do you take it off to pee?" George asked.
	"No, I cut off the nipple end and when I have to go I
just make sure the hole in the condom's aligned with
my hole. No problem."
	"Maybe I'll try that too," George said. "I always
felt my cock wasn't sensitive enough, especially
compared to uncut guys. Sometimes it's hard for me to
come."
	"Let's pair off," Harold suggested. "We've got two
uncut guys and two cut guys who love uncut cocks." He
moved toward Ed, and George stepped close to me,
reaching for my prick. He grasped my foreskin's nipple
between thumb and forefinger and lifted my prick.
	"You're got a long tight skin, the kind I like," he
said. My foreskin was marginally longer than Ed's and
significantly tighter. I grasped his small glans and
began squeezing it rhythmically to get him going. His
prick sprung to attention within seconds.
	"You've got about six inches," I commented. "So do
we."
	"I know Harold's got six inches from when we played
together before," he said. I saw that George's prick
had  a slight upward bow extending upward from his
blond pubic hair. By this time I was fully erect, with
my foreskin extending over my bulging helmet to form a
pucker in front.
	"Man, you've got a lot of skin and a big head on your
cock," he observed. "Does the skin always cover the
head or does it come back?"
	"Try it and see," I urged. "Just hold it around the
head and push the foreskin back." He did as I had
suggested and I felt the end of my foreskin stretch as
the orifice rode back over the front dome of my
helmet. He pushed back a little more and paused.
	"That's a nice big hole you've got," he commented.
"It looks like a teardrop."
	"My cream comes out in thick streams," I said.
	"You've got a big flaring rim too," he declared.
"Does your skin go back behind it?" By contrast,
George's corona was rather flat, not flaring.
	"It goes back and locks behind the rim," I told him.
At the edge of my vision I saw that Ed and Harold had
already gotten down on their bed and were in a "69"
position, with Harold's mouth over the end of Ed's
prick. George nudged my foreskin farther back until it
rode over the flare of my corona and dropped into the
deep groove behind it. I looked down at his prick and
saw that he had a small tight slit.
	"I love the smell of your cock," he said. "I wish
mine smelled that way. The doctor cut me when I was a
baby and I've always wished I still had my skin."
	"You can play with mine all you want," I told him.
	"Is the skin stuck behind the head?" he asked.
"That's such a high rim."
	"No," I answered him. "It's tight, but you can pull
it forward again. He did, and my foreskin stretched
over the corona and rode back down the taper of my
helmet to cover it again.
	"Man, what a toy to play with," he said. "I'd like to
suck it, just suck the come right out of it." We sat
on the bed and his head came down into my lap.
Suddenly Harold was standing next to us, holding the
bottle of Astroglide out to me.
	"George likes hand jobs, like I do. You can give a
terrific hand job." I took the bottle from him and
squirted George's penis with it, and then wrapped my
right hand around it to spread the lubricant. His
flesh was very warm to the touch. I felt George's
tongue probe into the pucker of my foreskin as Harold
went back to Ed. George and I assumed a "69" position
and worked at stimulating each other for a couple of
minutes. George pushed his tongue deeper into my hood,
tickling my slit. I stroked his prick steadily,
twisting my fist around the small glans at the top of
the stroke.
	"You're really turning me on," George said. "Can we
take a break and watch Harold and Ed?" We sat up to
look at the scene on the other bed. Harold now had Ed
on his back, and was giving him a fast up-and-down
pumping action with his mouth on the glans while
pumping his foreskin up and over his rim. Ed still
held on to Harold's condom-covered prick, but it was
clear that Ed would come first. Ed's jaw clenched but
his eyes stayed open. He was breathing heavily and his
balls were tight against his body.
	"I never sucked an uncut dick," George confessed.
"I'm learning something. I saw only a couple of uncut
dicks while we were at the training center. They were
Hispanic guys. Harold and I really envied those guys."
I kept fondling George's prick and he kept sliding my
foreskin up and down, in short slow strokes.
	"Ed blows a heavy load," I advised him. "His legs are
trembling now. He'll shoot any second." As I finished
speaking Ed's body grew visibly tenser, and then we
heard him yelp loudly. Harold's Adam's apple bobbed as
he swallowed the first ejaculation. Ed's hips bucked,
driving his prick deeper into Harold's mouth and
Harold swallowed again amid Ed's joyous grunts. Ed
yelped a third time and now Harold removed his mouth,
yanking Ed's foreskin back behind the flaring purple
corona.
	"Ed's prick gets too sensitive after about three
shots, like mine," I explained to George. Ed grunted
again and his wetly glimmering glans expelled another
torrent of cream between Harold's waiting lips.
George's eyes were riveted on Ed's straining prick as
it discharged jet after jet. Harold kept the tension
on Ed's skin and the tautness of the frenulum made the
big helmet dip. The back face of the rim was so dark
it seemed almost black.
	"Harold's keeping his mouth close to drink all Ed's
sperm," I commented. "He's careful not to touch the
tip or rub the foreskin against it." Ed's jets tapered
off to a slow dribble and Harold just held his penis
as he waited for it to soften.
	"Is Ed going to do Harold now?" George asked me.
	"As soon as he recovers," I answered. After another
minute Ed's breathing had slowed to normal and he got
up on one elbow and kissed Harold's lips. Harold
milked his prick and bent down to lap up the residue.
Then Ed pushed him flat on the bed and began stroking
his prick with one hand while cupping his balls with
the other. He used the condom as an artificial
foreskin, pumping it up and down the shaft and head.
	"You'll see Harold's helmet get darker even through
the latex the more excited he gets," I advised George.
"Ed's pretty good with his hands."
	"I see Ed's giving him that twisting stroke we both
like," George commented. "That really feels good,
fingers going around the head and rim. Harold's got a
big rim, too, like you and Ed."
	"Since Harold's not as sensitive as Ed and me, Ed's
going to continue stroking him after he starts to
come," I said. Harold was breathing hard now, and his
face had turned ruddy.
	"Harold shoots a big load too," George told me.
	"Harold's helmet just got darker purple," I advised
George. "He'll be blowing his load any second."
Harold's stomach muscles visibly tightened, and now he
was breathing in great ragged gasps, drawn inexorably
toward the brink.
	We heard Harold cry out as we saw his prick erupt in
a long thick jet of cream that shot out of the opening
in the end of the condom. Ed's mouth was poised above
the glans and he swallowed the ejaculation. Ed's fist
kept flying over the end of his prick, squeezing and
twisting to intensify Harold's sensations.
	"Harold's cock really throbbed hard in my hand when I
used to do him," George murmured. "I really felt him
come." He gave my prick a squeeze through the
enveloping skin as he spoke. Harold shot again and Ed
swallowed it. Harold's head rocked from side to side
as he continued pouring out his juice. He cried out
again in blissful agony, shattered by the fury of the
orgasm. The odor of Harold's chlorine cream filled the
air.
	"I hope your big tip throbs hard in my mouth when you
come," George whispered in my ear. He gave my prick
another squeeze and I returned the favor. Now Harold's
ejaculations were less intense, but Ed kept pumping
his prick to squeeze the last drops out of him as he
licked at the orifice. When Harold had stopped
dribbling Ed milked his prick from behind the scrotum
all the way forward, squeezing out the last drops and
swallowing them, although some of the residue had
seeped down inside the sheath. George and I were still
stroking each other's pricks, but now George turned
toward me and said:
	"Now it's our turn to put on a show for them." He
pushed me flat on the bed and lowered his head. I saw
Ed turn to watch and a few seconds later Harold
propped himself up on one elbow.
	"Use your lips on the front of the head and pump the
skin, like you saw me do to Ed," Harold coached
George. "That action gets them off and shooting."
George's ringers tightened around my foreskin, still
covering the glans, and I felt it roll back. His warm
lips closed over my front dome and he began twisting
his head from side to side, an improvement on what
Harold had done to Ed's prick. I took a deep breath as
he started pumping my foreskin up and down over my
rim, bumping against it and then compressing its many
nerve endings as he brought it up over my corona. His
other hand cupped my tight sac. I kept my hold on his
lubricated prick, sliding my fist up and down in long
slow strokes but not twisting.
	"Make Jack come first," urged Harold. He came over to
sit beside me, both hands caressing my nipples. Ed sat
on a corner of the bed to get a closer view. George
lifted his head for a moment to say:
	"I'm going to work my tongue inside his hole." And
then engulfed my front dome again as I felt his tongue
drilling into my orifice.
	"You won't be able to get your tongue as far inside
it as I did to Ed," Harold informed him. "Jack's hole
pouts, but Ed's slit is longer."
	"That felt good, when you worked your tongue inside
my slit," Ed told him.
	"It was tasty, too," Harold replied. "Your lube
tastes slippery and salty."
	"About now you should feel the head getting fatter,"
Ed said to George. "It should feel harder too. Jack's
pretty close."
	"Any second he'll close his eyes," Harold added. "He
always does that when he's ready to shoot." Harold was
absolutely right. I felt my excitement mounting, and
when George's fist began giving my foreskin a twisting
action as he pumped it, I felt the intense tickle
begin in my rim. His tongue continued to play with my
orifice while his lips caressed my front dome, and the
tickle spread all over my straining helmet. I closed
my eyes.
	"His eyes just closed," commented Ed. "Any second now
and he'll drown you with his come." My breathing was
heavy, and I felt my body tensing involuntarily,
although I was trying to relax and prolong the
delicious feeling of anticipation.  It was not to be.
My glans ached for release, and within seconds the
intense tickle had changed to a hot tingle, and I was
on my way. I felt a momentary jolt of sensation as
George's teeth grazed my swollen glans.
	I cried out as hot sparks of sensation stabbed deeply
into my glans from both top and bottom, and a sharp
contraction inside me sent the first hot torrent
hurtling up my prick. I felt it searing its way up my
tube and then a slight tickle as it rounded the gentle
upward curve in my glans before slamming through the
lips of my slit.
	George's fist pumped and twisted my foreskin as his
lips twirled around the front of my helmet, sending
more triggering sensations down my prick. A second
spasm shook me and another jet of cream pulsed up my
straining prick, erupting into his mouth. I was crying
out and grunting in mindless abandon, unaware of
anything except the beautiful sensations that wracked
my body.
	My hips bucked as the third contraction hit me, and I
was lost in the fury of my orgasm. Now I felt my
foreskin being drawn all the way down and George's
lips locking behind my bare corona. My tip suddenly
became over-sensitive, and I yelped loudly as another
heavy throb filled my prick.
	George pulled his lips back, but still twisted my
fully retracted foreskin to give me another jolt of
sensation. The root of my prick responded, and I felt
another gush pouring upward through my straining shaft
and glans. George gave the skin of my prick a few more
backward yanks, tugging on my gee-string, and I felt
my helmet dipping in response. Although I was still
jetting, the volume was less. My orgasm was fading,
and soon I was utterly still, dazed by the aftershock.
	I was aware that George was kissing me in the lips,
and that Harold was still caressing my chest. As I
returned to full awareness I hugged George and then
pushed him flat on the bed. Harold moved into position
to cup George's scrotum, which was already tight. Ed
slid in on the other side and caressed his nipples.
	"Now it's your turn," I said as I grasped his prick
and began administering long strokes from base to tip,
twisting my fist at the end. George had been without
orgasm the longest and he was very hot. He sighed at
each stroke, and then his body began to shudder when I
twisted my fist around the end of his tapered prick.
His face flushed, his fists clenched, and his
breathing became very rapid.
	"With three guys working on me, I won't last long,"
George announced to us.
	"Watch out, he shoots high," warned Harold. "That
small hole of his really builds up the pressure." I
kept my head out of the way as I felt Harold's shaft
stiffen further and his small glans hardened between
my fingers. His engorged flesh felt hot in my hand,
partly because of the blood flow and partly because of
the friction that was fueling his excitement.
	George was climbing the slope quickly, and I became
caught up in his excitement as I increased my pace and
squeezed his prick more tightly. I saw a drop of clear
fluid seeping through the tight slit, and I knew our
combined efforts were having an effect on him. Tension
filled my body as I stroked his hot hard prick with
trembling encircling fingers. Several more drops of
lube seeped from his orifice, blending smoothly with
the Astroglide, keeping his hot prick well lubricated.
George was right on the brink now.
	He yelped as I felt a massive throb in his penis. A
long thin squirt of white cream shot about three feet
into the air as we watched, arcing down to fall on his
chest. Now he sobbed as another thin jet erupted from
his prick. I felt each throb as the jets pulsed
through his prick and I knew he was experiencing the
sublime sensations he'd given me minutes before. With
another agonized cry, George discharged another load
that sprayed upward and came down on his abdomen, my
forearm, and fist. The heavy chlorine odor of his
semen filled the room and I knew that Ed and Harold
smelled it as well.
	I kept pumping his prick hard, twisting my fist
around the end where I caressed the head and the
sensitive tissue between the scar and rim. George
continued moaning as his prick throbbed repeated in my
fingers. The jets weren't flying as far now, and I
knew he was almost drained. A few more thin jets
erupted before his prick settled down to a steady
seep. Because of the lessened sensitivity of his
prick, I had no problem in milking him down, aided by
Harold who forced the fluid out of his posterior
urethra. Ed handed me some tissues and I wiped his
prick as he lay there dazed.
	We all clustered on the bed as George returned to
full awareness. We hugged and kissed, rejoicing in the
good fortune that had gathered us there for an evening
of hot pleasure. Then we went to our respective beds
and dropped off to sleep, fulfilled and eager to face
the coming day.

Continued in Part 12