Date: Sun, 29 Apr 2007 10:02:23 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jacksantoro1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Arrest Powers, Part 17, Adult Friends, 17/20

Arrest Record, Part 17
By Jacksantoro1@yahoo.com

	After Peter's office staff had eaten their fill there
was still enough food to provide an ample dinner for
us, and we packed it up and drove to his house with
it, stopping to allow Ed to buy another case of
delicious Canadian beer. Once there we stripped down,
and as we were in the middle of a gorgeous summer
afternoon, we opened four beers and went into his back
yard.
	Harold's eyes were on Peter's tapered uncircumcised
prick and he said:
	"What I wouldn't give to have one like that." Turning
to Ed and me he added: "Or one like yours."
	"Peter didn't always like skinning back," Ed said to
Harold. "Let me show you how I got him off the first
time." He looked at Peter, who slid off his chair onto
the grass, lying on his left side. Ed knelt behind him
and grasped his prick between the palms of his hands.
	"This is what we call "palming," he explained to
Harold. "There's no back and forth motion, just
rotating the foreskin rapidly in opposite directions."
He proceeded to demonstrate, moving his hands in
opposite directions to twist Peter's foreskin. He went
slowly at first, and then more quickly, as Peter's
prick quickly responded to the stimulation. Ed bent to
his task and I took up the explanation for Harold:
	"This rapid twisting of the foreskin not only rubs
the head and the inside of the foreskin, but it
stretches the nerve endings, both in the hood and in
the gee-string. No uncut guy can resist coming for
more than a minute because the stimulation's so
intense."
	"Awesome," muttered Harold, whose eyes were fixed on
Peter's penis. Ed's hands were moving rapidly now, and
Peter's eyes had taken on a glazed, fixed stare.
Harold's prick had begun to swell, and I moved to the
chair next to him.
	"Here, let me do it to you," I said. You've got a
condom on, and I can use that to give you the same
stroking." I placed one palm under the end of his
prick and the other on top, and began moving them in
opposite directions, twisting the condom over his
rapidly swelling glans. Harold's prick responded
rapidly and was fully swollen within seconds.
	"That's intense," he whispered.
	"It really is intense," I told him. "You're already
leaking lube. Your tip's really become more sensitive
since you've been wearing the condom." Meanwhile,
Peter's excitement had mounted and I saw that his
balls were tight against his body and his legs were
already trembling. Ed had not let up, and if anything
was twisting his foreskin even more rapidly. Peter's
foreskin pucker was dribbling clear fluid that was
running down into the grass and his breathing had
become heavy.
	"His tip's really hard inside his skin," Ed advised
us as he maintained his efforts. We saw that Peter's
lips had drawn back from his teeth and the cords in
his neck stood out visibly.
	"AAAHHHHH!" Peter yelped as the orgasm came on him
like an express train. His hips bucked and a long gush
of cream poured from the puckered end of his foreskin.
He yelped again and we watched another heavy string of
sperm force its way through his foreskin, stretching
the pucker as it emerged. I felt Harold's glans
through the thin latex, and it was very hard. Harold
now cried out as his prick throbbed hard between my
palms, and a long stream of cream shot through the
lips of his long slit, through the hole at the end of
the condom, and arced onto the grass between his
spread legs.
	Peter's body jerked as his prick poured another heavy
rope of semen onto the grass, and an instant later
Harold's hot hard prick again pulsed between my palms
as it spit a second load into the air. I felt my prick
swelling inside its long foreskin, and a quick glance
told me that Ed's was already fully hard, resting on
Peter's hip. Peter shuddered again, and another stream
dribbled from his long foreskin.
	I heard Harold groan as his prick again throbbed
hard. His jet, unencumbered by a long enveloping
foreskin, shot free and landed on the grass between
his spread legs. His eyes were fixed on his prick,
through which he was receiving the most unbelievable
sensations.
	Peter's orifice stretched again to release another
stream, and a moment later Harold's orifice dilated to
allow another jet to pass. Now both men were coming
down off their highs, their pulses weaker and streams
less forceful and copious. Ed and I exchanged glances,
having witnessed two powerful orgasms and indeed,
having brought on the storms. Two beautiful pricks had
disgorged their hot liquid loads for us, and were now
pulsing weakly, seeping their last drops.
	Ed and I milked their urethras to push forward the
last drops, and the residue seeped from their pricks.
We were thoroughly aroused by having helped Peter and
Harold attain release, and now we stood and hugged,
pricks upright between our abdomens, sharing the
intimacy of the delicious moment. Ed kissed me and I
kissed him back. We clung together, devoted to each
other, secure in our long relationship. Lubricant
seeped from our slits, escaping through the puckers in
our long foreskins, which still encased our helmets. I
grabbed Ed by the shoulders, pushing him urgently down
onto the grass.
	"Here, let me do you," I urged. "After that, you need
to blow your load." He didn't resist as I positioned
him on his side and knelt behind him. I palmed his
prick, feeling it throb at my touch, and began moving
my hands in opposite directions. I knew that he was
very hot, and felt it in the hard swelling of his
helmet. His rim stood out proudly through the
enveloping foreskin, and I twisted the fleshy sleeve
around it, alternating directions every half second.
	His breathing was hard and ragged, and he was
perspiring copiously as his body tensed for the effort
of release. I noticed Peter and Harold watching, eager
to see Ed undergo the same hot ejaculations that had
gripped their bodies only a minute earlier. My hard
prick rested on Ed's hip, a steady dribble of clear
lube seeping through my foreskin and running down his
body. Ed's foreskin was disgorging large drops that
fell onto the grass below, and I knew that he was
close, very close.
	"You felt how intense palming is," I said, looking at
Harold. "Palming gives you some of the most powerful
ejaculations ever."
	"Yeah, it's like electro or using the vibrator,"
Harold acknowledged.
	"I'm going to do something slightly different now," I
explained to Harold. "Normally you keep the foreskin
all the way forward, but this time I'll give you a
show. I'm going to pull it back just enough to clear
his slit so the ejaculation can shoot out freely." I
shifted my hands slightly, just enough to pull Ed's
foreskin back enough to expose the long slit while
still applying intense friction to his glans and
corona. Now his hot streams wouldn't be impeded by the
foreskin.
	His legs began trembling as his breathing grew more
rapid and ragged. His fists clenched, and his lips
draw back. His helmet was very hard through the skin,
and now his entire body seemed to tense.
	Ed yelped loudly as I felt his prick throb between my
rapidly moving palms, expelling a thick stream of
white liquid from its slit. Ed's slit gaped as the
ejaculation sailed three feet to land on the grass. As
his chlorine aroma filled the air I kept rotating his
foreskin, bringing forth another thick rope that
soaked into the grass. I felt hands clasp my prick as
I worked on Ed, and a quick look told me that Peter
was palming my prick, intending to make me discharge
as soon as I'd finished Ed. I let myself go,
concentrating on doing Ed's prick, and knowing that
the intense twisting sensations in mine would send me
hurtling over the brink within seconds.
	My consciousness started to slip as the intense
sensations in my glans and foreskin began to dominate
my consciousness. I was still twisting Ed's foreskin
through the final stages of his orgasm, watching him
shoot, while the tension rapidly built up in my body.
I was already breathing hard, but now the tension in
my prick spread all over my body, and my awareness of
the world outside dimmed. I let go of Ed's prick and
the hood closed over the end. The last thing I saw as
my eyes closed was a thin string dripping from Ed's
foreskin.
	I felt the intense tickling sensation around my hard,
flaring rim as the nerve endings in my gee-string
stretched from each frenzied twist. The tickle built
up as the jolts from my gee-string shot down to the
root of my straining prick. My helmet and foreskin
were tingling as my world exploded, and I grunted hard
as the first hot torrent poured into my urethra. It
seared its way up my tube as Peter's strong hands kept
twisting my foreskin, stretching the nerve endings to
their limit. The first jet had barely shot into my
foreskin nipple when the second one slammed through
the lips of my pouting slit, producing the delicious
burning sensation that enhanced my orgasm. My tight
foreskin released only a trickle of sperm, and the hot
wet pleasure pervaded my prick as the fiery liquid
swirled around my helmet right back to flood the
groove behind my rim. My hips bucked as my prick
jerked helplessly, forced to disgorge its hot liquid.
I collapsed on top of Ed's body as another spasm shook
me to the core, and then a fourth contraction gripped
the root of my prick.
	Now I fell onto my back, totally helpless as Peter
wrench the last of the orgasm from my straining prick.
I was floating in limbo, shattered by the intense and
irresistible sensations, gasping, moaning, and
shuddering.
	It took several minutes for me to recover from my
daze, and when I opened my eyes I saw Harold, Ed, and
Peter with beers in their hands. Ed motioned to a
fourth beer on the table. Peter put down his bottle
and knelt beside me, carefully milking my urethra and
foreskin now that my prick had lost its extreme
over-sensitivity. I sat up and he helped me to my
chair.
	"Peter's got a nice load of cream and cheese inside
his skin," Ed was saying to Harold. "I think you'll
enjoy cleaning it out later." I took a deep drink of
cool beer, enjoying the sensation as the liquid ran
down my throat. Now I took a deep breath and looked at
Peter.
	"That was beautiful. You had me shooting my juice so
quickly that I almost didn't know what hit me."
	"I was happy to do it," he assured me. "You and Ed
have brought me to seventh heaven so many times that I
was happy to reciprocate." As he spoke, Harold sat on
the grass in front of him and grasped his limp prick,
holding it up so that he could probe the tight
foreskin with his tongue. We watched Peter's thick
tight hood stretch as Harold's tongue drove deeper,
caressing his slit and then plunging all the way to
the corona and filling the groove behind it, sweeping
up the accumulated secretions.
	Peter's prick, totally drained from his orgasm,
remained limp and small. Harold worked his tongue
around the small helmet, lapping up the juices, and we
saw his throat working repeatedly to swallow them. He
gave a final lick at the foreskin's tight pucker and
returned to his chair.
	"I watched you shoot when Jack skinned you back,"
Harold said to Ed. "You really shot far. That palming
technique is really powerful. The same happened to
me."
	"It is," Ed affirmed. "I always shoot fast when I get
palmed. I just can't relax and hold back because it's
so hot."
	We sat in ruminative silence now, sipping our beers,
until Ed got us another round. There was not much to
say, and we enjoyed the rest of the afternoon.
Fortunately Peter's yard was in the shade of the house
and we did not risk sunburn.
	We became very sleepy as a result of the beers, the
relaxation that follows orgasm, and the warm summer
afternoon. Because of the warmth, our balls were very
slack and our pricks relaxed. We slipped out of our
chairs and lay on the grass, and I held Ed's hand.
Harold was still paired off with Peter, also holding
hands, and this is how we fell asleep.
	The sun was low in the sky when we awoke, and when
Peter suggested bringing out the food, we responded
enthusiastically. We were very hungry, and we finished
off the remnants of the trays that had greeted us in
the conference room.
	"We'd better get to bed," Peter suggested as Ed and I
cleared the table. "Tomorrow might be a very busy
day." He was obviously right, and we did exactly that
to get a full night's rest.
	The following day we sat with Peter in the command
center, watching the action unfold. Peter's techs had
set up video cameras to record the scene in Amir's
room, the hotel lobby, and the street outside for
several blocks. Peter had several teams in place to
shadow the contact after the transfer of the canister.
Ed, Harold, and I had nothing to do but watch.
	Following the pattern, the call to Amir's room came
shortly after ten. Over the loudspeaker came a voice
in heavily accented English, instructing him to leave
the hotel and turn right. Amir did so and began
walking, and a mobile camera concealed in a van
followed him as he made his way along the street.
	"There are teams all around him," Peter assured us.
Ed and I exchanged looks. The Mounties were more
advanced than we were with their sophisticated video
surveillance. We could learn a few things from them.
	"How do you get the manpower for an operation this
size?" Ed asked him.
	"We borrowed some troops from detachments around
Toronto, and flew in some constables from outlying
areas. They're al good at surveillance, and I don't
expect anything to go wrong."
	"I hope it all goes well," I said as I watched Amir
still walking along the sidewalk. "Anyway, our ace in
the hole is that the canister doesn't contain any
virus."
	"If it did," observed Peter, "we wouldn't be doing
this. The risk of a live canister on the streets of
Toronto is far too great to tolerate. We would have
had to figure out something else."
	"Hey, maybe that's him," Harold exclaimed, pointing
at the screen on the right. Another van cruised the
street about a block ahead of Amir to provide a view
of oncoming pedestrians. A bearded man was walking
toward Amir.
	"Looks like a car shadowing Amir, too," Peter told
us, pointing to the screen on the left, where another
camera was monitoring the rear. "Not one of ours,
that's for sure." He picked up the microphone:
	"Tiger teams, watch out. This may be a mobile
pick-up. The white Buick coming up slowly behind Amir.
Be ready to follow." We watched as the bearded man
neared Amir, and then accosted him, taking the paper
bag from his hand just as the Buick pulled in to the
curb. The man jumped into the car and it took off,
blending into the traffic.
	"Tiger two," came over the radio. "We've got him.
Tiger three is right behind us and we'll switch off in
a couple of blocks."
	"Tiger four," a woman's voice came from the speaker.
"We're on a parallel street, ready to come over when
we're needed."
	"Tiger five," a man's voice announced. "We've got him
on the GPS tracker."
	"See? Peter said. "I doubt we'll lose him. We can
follow him right out to Manitoba if we have to." The
mobile surveillance went on for almost two hours,
until the radio reports announced that the Buick had
pulled into the driveway of a rural house.
	"What now?" I asked.
	"We'll simply keep an eye on the house, get a warrant
for a telephone tap, and continue the surveillance.
With only a little bit of luck, these people will be
in touch with their contacts and we'll get a line on
all of them," Peter told us.
	"Then what, bring them to trial?" Ed asked him.
	"Eventually yes," Peter replied. "We'll coordinate
with you people, though. We wouldn't want to
compromise your investigation. In any event, there's
no urgency. We can keep an eye on the cell and perhaps
discover other cells elsewhere in Canada. There's a
benefit to letting an investigation or surveillance
run for a long time. We can get more information."
	"Can you run us out to your house so we can pick up
our bags?" Ed asked as he stood. "We really enjoyed
your hospitality and we'd love to stay another night,
but we should get back to the states as soon as
possible now that you've got the situation under
control. Anyway, there's a lot happening back there
and we ought to lend a hand."
	"It will be my pleasure," answered Peter as he stood
to shake hands with Ed. "I enjoyed your visit, but I
know you've got a lot to do back home." It took the
better part of two hours to drive to Peter's house in
Hamilton and then back to Pearson Airport so that we
could board the Grumman. We said our hasty good-byes
at the ramp, having hugged and kissed at Peter's
house, and then within minutes we'd gotten clearance
and were airborne back to Detroit.
	Agents from the local office were awaiting us at the
private air terminal and drove us to a hotel. They'd
brought our firearms with them, and handed them to us
at the hotel. We had reserved a three bedroom suite
with a king-size bed in one of the rooms, and Ed,
Harold, and I planned to sleep together that night.
	We'd missed dinner, as the flight crew had not loaded
any food aboard the Grumman, due to our hasty
departure, and now we ordered hot roast beef
sandwiches from room service. Although we were hungry
we ate listlessly as a result of fatigue from the
tensions of the day.
	"Now what?" Harold asked. Ed replied:
	"Okay, we wait here for Amir. He should be pulling
into town by mid-day tomorrow, and then we'll
coordinate our plans. He should be driving to the next
destination, Pittsburg, and prepare for a contact in
three days. This part of the plan allows more time
between contacts, despite the shorter distances. I
guess that's to provide for any delays." After saying
this, Ed took a sip of beer and started anew on his
sandwich. I'd been munching steadily during this
exchange, and was ready to start on my salad. Harold
took a long drink of beer and said thoughtfully:
	"I was really impressed by the Mounties. That video
surveillance they had was state of the art."
	"Well, the United States isn't always number one in
everything," I said. "We can learn some things from
other countries."
	"That GPS tracking system really impressed Peter," Ed
added. "That's one thing they don't have."
	"Both sides contributed something important in
Toronto," I said. I can't complain about the level of
cooperation we got from Peter and his people."
	"Peter was really nice," said Harold with a dreamy
look, and I knew he wasn't speaking only about our
official duties. He'd been fascinated by Peter's
foreskin, in contrast to his own circumcised prick,
and I knew he'd enjoyed our various sexual experiences
as a foursome.
	Fatigue overtook us, and we got undressed and climbed
into bed, our eyes closing within minutes. Next
morning we awoke at our usual six o'clock and ordered
breakfast. We were sexually exhausted from our
Canadian trip, although we awoke with piss erections,
and all we did was share the shower. Harold skinned me
back and turned the removable shower nozzle to needle
spray, and played it on the front dome of my glans.
	I gasped as the hot water needles stung my helmet and
stabbed deeply into my pouting teardrop orifice. I
felt my sphincter release deep inside me and within a
couple of seconds my yellow stream was gushing into
the air. Harold kept up the spray until my bladder was
drained, and then turned his attention to Ed. Ed had
already uncapped his helmet, and was ready for the hot
spray. The moment it hit his front dome, parting the
lips of his long slit to penetrate deep inside his
urethra, he groaned and released his stream.
	Harold had removed his condom before entering the
shower, and the splash from the shower spray had been
hitting his glans, which turned a shade darker and
gushed a yellow stream. He and Ed drained themselves,
and then we set to soaping each other's bodies. We
rinsed off and dressed, and went down to the dining
room for breakfast. After eating we returned to our
room and Ed checked in with the local office. They
hadn't heard from Amir. Later in the morning Ed called
again, to hear the same news. By noon there was still
no news.
	We drove to the office in the car that the local
people had provided for us, and waited there to hear
from Amir. He was now overdue, and we began worrying
about various unhappy possibilities. Had he been in a
collision on the freeway? Had he been tracked by
members of the terrorist organization without our
knowledge and been killed for his cooperation with us?
Had he re-defected to the other side?
	"We should have been more careful," concluded Ed. "We
should never have let him travel alone. We should have
stayed behind him all the way." We were in the
self-recrimination phase now, and our unease was
compounded by the knowledge of our culpability if
anything had gone really wrong.

Continued in Part 18