Date: Wed, 16 May 2007 08:31:49 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jacksantoro2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Arrest Record, Part 20, Adult Friends, 20/20

Arrest Record, Part 20
By Jacksantoro2@yahoo.com

	Well, it had finally happened, and I was paralyzed
with fear. I'd been shot, it hurt, and only a second
after the explosion I realized that my ballistic vest
had stopped the bullet, and I began to draw my SIG
P229. However, Ed dove by me, grabbing the assailant's
wrist and twisting it hard enough to make the bones
snap. The man's hand unfolded and the Makarov
clattered to the parquet floor.
	I wondered who the man might be as he began screaming
in pain. Was he the terrorist who lived there? A
visitor? Co-conspirator? A second terrorist about whom
we didn't know? Yeah, Sherlock, he had to be involved
somehow. I hadn't been shot by the Fuller Brush Man.
	"You okay? Ed turned back toward me as he threw the
gunman to the floor. He planted a foot on his back as
Ted bent down to put the needle in his arm. The
screams of pain subsided as the drug took effect, and
then Ed and Ted lifted him to his feet to walk him
down to the van. I stood leaning against the wall,
recovering from the shock, while Paul watched both me
and the other terrorist on the floor.
	Now neighbors were milling in the hallway, asking us
what the shooting was all about. I couldn't answer,
but Paul said: "Narcotics," and that seemed to satisfy
them. Ted and Ed reappeared and walked the second
terrorist down. I followed, while Paul remained to
secure the apartment until a search team arrived. A
couple of uniformed local patrol officers approaching
up the stairs stopped me and the female officer asked:
"Are you the one who got shot?"
"Yes, I am," I answered feebly. "It's no fun."
"Good thing you had your vest," her male partner said.
I nodded agreement and continued down. In the van I
saw that the gunman had been cuffed to a seat rail by
his left wrist. The other was sitting in the seat
beside him, while Ed watched both carefully.
"Hurts, I bet," he said to me, a look of concern in
his eyes.
"It did happen," I mused. "I never believed deep down
that it could happen to me, although I should have
known better after Harold got shot." Ed squeezed my
hand and said:
"You know you'd better get checked out at the
emergency room. I think you'll be okay but you might
have a cracked rib. The other guy also needs medical
care." He was right, and once we got squared away with
the local police we took a slight detour to drop us
off at a hospital. Ed remained with us, while Ted and
Paul drove the other prisoner to headquarters.
My problem wasn't serious, just uncomfortable. An
X-ray showed a cracked rib, as Ed had surmised, but
the gunman whose wrist Ed had twisted during the
affray had both the radius and ulna broken, as well as
several torn ligaments. In short, he was a mess, and
the doctor scheduled him for surgery in the morning.
Two uniformed ICE Agents showed up to guard him, and
Ed and I took their vehicle and made our way back to
headquarters.
Novick greeted us with a grim expression, and after
receiving the news that my injury wasn't serious,
seemed to relax slightly.
"Well, we've got a real shit storm here, guys," he
continued. "Too many suspects, two agents shot, and a
hell of an administrative mess to clean up. It'll take
a month to interrogate all these guys. Meanwhile, you
and Harold are on administrative leave. You've done
enough. I don't want to see you back here until you're
recovered. Ed, your job is to take care of them while
they're recovering." He patted us on the back and
dismissed us. Wearily, we headed for the parking lot.
Ed drove.
It was 3 A.M when we arrived. Harold was sleeping and
we joined him. We all needed rest, and we dropped off
to sleep. Ed and I were exhausted, and slept until
noon, when the aroma of food stimulated us to full
wakefulness.
"French Onion Soup," Harold told us as Ed and I
staggered into the kitchen, naked.
"I didn't know you could cook," Ed said stupidly after
inhaling the aroma.
"Lots of things you don't know about me," Harold said
as he stirred the soup. It was ready to serve, and we
soon slopped the soup down hungrily.
After eating we all went back to bed, cuddling
together as sleep overtook us again. We stirred
ourselves at six, and ate more soup. We weren't
ravenously hungry, just horribly fatigued, and we ate
just enough to keep us going. The weeks of
investigation, arrests, and thousands of miles of
travel had ravaged us, and we realized that Novick had
been absolutely right in granting us open-ended leave,
as we would have been ineffective if he'd kept us on
duty. At this point, we weren't even interested in
sex.
Two weeks later Ted phoned to say that he and Barton
would be holding a substantial briefing the next day,
and that we might want to attend. We were becoming
bored, and welcomed the chance to find out the results
of our investigation. The following day we dressed in
our uniforms and reported to the conference room Ted
and indicated. Ted led off:
"Well, we've finally got all of our prisoners
processed and believe me, we got a lot of information
from them. We rounded up several calls across the
country and in Canada, and we found several of their
affiliates who hadn't been on the books. We got 96
suspects, and the Mounties across the border arrested
another 19. As you know, the FBI rounded up a group
totally independent of our organization and our
investigation in New Jersey. This points up the fact
that there are independent groups operating, groups
with no contact with the Middle East outfits."
"Are any of these going to trial?" someone asked.
"The FBI is going for prosecution with their suspects,
as you probably know. We're going to keep ours totally
dark, as we're not seeking publicity for a number of
reasons." I knew what he meant. We wanted, as much as
possible, to keep the terrorists in the dark about our
successes and our investigative techniques.
"Then that means administrative disposition of the
suspects?" someone else asked. Ted nodded. I knew what
this meant- a bullet in the back of the neck or a
lethal injection. I spoke up:
"Ted, what about Amir and a couple of others who
helped us?" I was concerned about them, as they'd
cooperated fully.
"We've been working with the U. S. Marshall's Service
and their Witness Security Program," he replied.
"Amir's in the program, as are a couple of others, and
they've been relocated. However, the two guys who shot
you and Harold are already dog meat," he went on with
a chuckle. "The guy who shot you, Jack, was a new
member of that cell. He'd arrived in the states just
the day before, which is why he was the unexpected
co-tenant  of the guy who had the apartment."
"Thanks, Ted," interjected Novick. "We appreciate the
work you and a lot of others have put in during the
last few weeks. We've destroyed the entire Middle East
network on this continent, for now. At least that's
what we believe. Our work isn't over yet. Barton is
going to fill you in on what's on the horizon." He sat
down as Barton took the floor. Barton had informed us
several weeks ago about the new method of
communication between some terrorists.
"Sorry, folks, but I've got only bad news. You all did
a terrific job on this major investigation, but the
going to be tougher ahead. By now al of you should
know that with these pay-as-you-go cell phones,
terrorists and their wannabees have untraceable
communications. More, they can open up a new channel
within minutes if they feel uncertain about the old
one. Worse, free-lance terrorists, like the ones in
New Jersey, can spring up at any time and since the
members of a cell all know each other, they don't even
need cell-phones to communicate."
"How is that going to affect our work," an agent in
the back asked.
"Very adversely, I'm afraid. The big vulnerability of
terrorists controlled from the Middle East has been
their communications. Their cells are all networked,
and we can trace them through their communications and
associates. They've used Internet cafes for
untraceable e-mails for years, but we still got a line
on them. These free-lancers, on the other hand, are
completely independent. They start up without telling
anybody, discuss their plans only among themselves,
work to their own schedules, and select their own
targets. In other words, getting a line on them is
always going to be problematic."
"A bitch, you mean," Ed interjected.
"Exactly," agreed Barton. "You'll never see them.
They'll be under your radar screen unless they go out
of the country and return, or someone from overseas
joins them. That's unlikely, as most of them are
home-grown, such as those in New Jersey and in London
a couple of years ago." On that unhappy note the
briefing ended, and Novick wished us all well before
dismissing us.
We decided to stop at an Italian Restaurant on the way
home, instead of cooking a meal. None of us were fussy
eaters, so choosing a restaurant or cooking style had
never been a problem between us. After we'd eaten, we
tumbled into bed, sated and tired.
Perhaps dining out had revitalized us, for next
morning we awakened without the blanket of oppressive
fatigue that had dogged us during the last couple of
weeks. Over coffee in the kitchen, Harold suggested:
"You guys realize we haven't done anything for a
couple of weeks." He was right. It wasn't just our
injuries, which were superficial, but the
psychological shock of realizing our vulnerability in
the most vivid manner possible, that had depressed us.
Ed, too, had been affected, because he'd come within
measurable distance of losing his two closest friends.
"What would you like to do?" Ed asked as he reached
over to caress Harold's prick, still covered with the
condom that he'd been faithfully wearing 24 hours a
day.
"I'd like to wrap my lips around those beautiful dicks
and stick my tongue inside your skins," Harold
answered without hesitation. "I'll settle for just one
if we can do a three-way."
"Sounds good to me," I said. "Let's finish off the
coffee first, though, so we have full bladders and a
caffeine high." We each drank another cup, emptying
the carafe, and then headed for the bedroom. Harold
removed his condom before lying down with us to form a
triangle, my face at Ed's crotch, Ed's face at
Harold's, and Harold's eager lips already caressing my
foreskin's long nipple. Ed's lips wrapped around
Harold's big glans, and I was sure he was
tongue-probing Harold's slit as well. Harold removed
his mouth from my prick for a moment to say:
"My tip's gotten more sensitive since last time,
that's for sure. I also haven't come in over two
weeks." Neither had we, and I knew that with the
coffee, our orgasms would come soon. I grasped Ed's
prick behind the head and worked my tongue into his
orifice, tickling his long slit and tasting the salty
lube leaking from it. We'd already been half-hard in
anticipation when we'd begun, and now we were fully
hard with only slight stimulation. Harold removed his
lips from my prick again and said:
"Yours is really tasty this morning, and I love the
smell." I knew why. The last time we'd showered had
been the previous morning, and I'd been in a hurry. I
hadn't skinned back for the usual rinse, so I had two
days' accumulation of natural secretions inside my
hood. Harold's tongue plunged back into my foreskin
and I felt a slight tingle in my tip as it reached its
objective, circling my pouring orifice. Harold's
fingers gently cupped my sac, which was already
tightening.
Ed's lips worked rhythmically on Harold's swollen
glans, and he was becoming aroused very rapidly. I
felt his hot breath on my groin as he got more and
more worked up, and I knew that he was going to come
before Ed and I would. Harold was about 10 years
younger, had been anticipating sex for over two weeks,
and his glans had become very sensitive in the
moistness of the condom he'd kept covering it.
I peered past Ed's prick to see his lips around
Harold's prick, even as I pushed the foreskin back
with my lips. My lips locked behind Ed's rim as I
worked my tongue the length of his slit and into the
triangular groove under the helmet to hit the sweet
spot. Ed's sac was tightly contracted between my
clasping fingers, but still Harold was ahead of him.
Harold had just grasped my shaft and yanked back my
foreskin when his mouth opened.
"AAAAHHHH!" he yelped as the first wave of orgasm
overtook him. He threw his head back and shuddered as
the overpowering sensations flooded his body. I knew
he was pumping his sperm into Ed's mouth, and Ed was
swallowing hard to cope with the flow. No chlorine
odor was detectable, as Ed was swallowing it all.
I was working on Ed's swollen tip, feeling it harden
even further as his excitement mounted, when Harold's
second wave of orgasm immersed him and he yelped again
in pure joy. His hips bucked as he thrust his prick
deeper into Ed's mouth, disgorging another stream of
cream that Ed frantically swallowed.
I kept working on Ed's lovely hard prick, seeking to
time it so that his orgasm would begin when Harold's
ended, and I was getting results. Ed was breathing
hard, taking rasping breaths between swallowing gobs
of Harold's sperm. Harold's back arched as his body
shuddered again, and I knew that his throbbing prick
had just released another surge or sperm into Ed's
mouth.
Ed's prick seeped salty lubricant steadily as I worked
my lips and tongue around the contours of Ed's helmet,
the taste mixing with the other natural secretions
that coated his glans and lined the inside of his
foreskin. Now I saw Ed twisting his head to provide
Harold those delicious sideways caresses around his
corona. Harold bucked his hips again, thrusting his
prick into Ed's mouth as far as the scar where he'd
been circumcised, as he grunted again. All my senses
were alert, as I was watching and hearing Harold
having his orgasm, and feeling Ed climbing to the peak
of his sensations, the dam about to burst.
Harold grunted again, but this time he didn't buck his
hips. His body shuddered, but I knew he was on the
descending slope. It would be over for him after a few
more spasms. Meanwhile, my tongue and lips explored
Ed's helmet, following its compound curves and sexy
contours. The surface was very hard, as mine gets just
before the final surge.
My prick was out of Harold's mouth, but still
rock-hard from the contained excitement. I knew Harold
would finish me off after he'd recovered. Meanwhile,
he shuddered again and unloaded another discharge into
Ed's mouth. Ed's lips were wrapped tightly around his
shaft, just behind the corona, and Ed was avidly
sucking the sperm out of him. Ed began pumping
Harold's prick with his fingers, forcing the last
drops forward, as Harold's orgasm faltered to a stop
and he began to relax. Now, I knew, it was Ed's turn.
I grasped Ed's shaft tightly around the base,
compressing the veins to gain that last iota of
hardness as my lips and tongue worked on the helmet's
sensitive nerve endings. Ed's foreskin was lodged
behind the rim in a thick fleshy ring, and I moved my
lips to give it a circular twist. As I moved back, I
let my teeth lightly scrape Ed's straining corona, and
this triggered his storm.
Ed grunted hard as I felt his turgid glans throb hard
against my lips and tongue, and an instant later I
tasted the first surge of chlorine-flavored fluid as
it jetted against my tongue and palate. I swallowed
hard as his hips bucked and his shaft throbbed again
between my fingers. The engorged helmet hammered
against my tongue as it flooded my mouth with another
hot discharge. I yanked back hard on the shaft skin,
dragging the foreskin and gee-string with it, to bare
the back-face of Ed's corona. My lips encircled it and
I twisted my head, hearing Ed cry out helplessly in
response as another heavy spasm shot through his
prick.
The powerful odor of chlorine filled my throat and
nostrils as I swallowed frantically and Ed's body
trembled in orgasm. I knew his tip was about to become
overly sensitive, and removed my lips, keeping my
mouth open to catch his jets. I gave his shaft skin
another yank, increasing the tension in his
gee-string, to keep his orgasm going and trigger
another spasm. His tortured prick responded instantly,
shooting another heavy jet into my mouth as he cried
out again.
Ed was now moaning mindlessly as the frenzy of orgasm
swept uncontrollably through his body. I gave his
shaft skin another jolt and his tip shot another surge
of sperm into my mouth. Now the spasms had become
weaker, and his white cream just seeped from between
the lips of his long slit. I delicately licked away
the flow, savoring the delicious taste and viscosity,
for a moment thinking of how I was going to disgorge
my loads when Harold resumed his action.
Ed was now still, although his prick was still
seeping, and I felt faint throbs in his shaft. I began
milking his urethra behind his scrotum, working my
finger forward to force the residual discharges from
his prick. His prick had lost its peak hardness,
although it was still erect, and a slow discharge
began to seep from the slit that parted the front dome
of his glans.
Ed's body began to relax, and he was quiet. Suddenly
Harold's fist closed around the base of my shaft and I
felt his lips around my foreskin again. His tongue
probed forcefully into the nipple, reaching for the
slit. I felt a tingle in my tip as his tongue traced
small circles around my teardrop orifice. I released
Ed's prick, pulling the protective foreskin up over
the head, as Harold's tongue probed aggressively
inside my foreskin.
I knew I'd be blasting off very soon, because I had
been hard the longest, and now I felt my shaft and
helmet swelling even more in their final engorgement.
A tickle deep inside me told me I was secreting
lubricant, and I felt a drop begin to crawl forward
inside my groin. Harold's fingers tightened even more
around my shaft as he dragged my foreskin back off the
glans to snap down into the deep groove behind my rim.
My helmet was now fully exposed to his lips and
tongue, and he began to give me the delicious sideways
friction around my corona. My straining glans ached
for release, and my body tensed despite my best effort
to remain relaxed and prolong the anticipation.
My eyes closed as the first sharp spasm wracked my
groin, and I felt the rush as the hot sperm boiled up
my throbbing prick to erupt from the teardrop shaped
orifice. I cried out helplessly, caught up in the
frenzy of my orgasm, as my body shuddered and another
torrent of burning lava seared its way up my tube. The
heavy pounding of orgasm had me in its grip and I was
in an altered state of consciousness.
Harold's lips were tight around my corona and the
thick fleshy ring of foreskin bunched behind it,
compressing my nerve endings as his tongue strummed at
my orifice. I grunted and moaned mindlessly as waves
of sensation flooded my body. My prick gushed another
load into his mouth and now I felt him remove his lips
from my helmet. He kept my foreskin back tightly,
maintaining the tension on the nerve endings and
triggering another spasm that made me groan
mindlessly.
I was rapidly draining myself, releasing two weeks of
pent up fluids that poured from my throbbing helmet
onto his waiting tongue. Now the pulses were fading,
but the delicious sensations still pervaded my nether
regions. I floated in the limbo of semi-consciousness,
aware only of the sensations in my own body.
Now my pulses had ceased, and I felt the pressure of
Harold's fingers forcing my residual fluid forward in
my urethra. I felt every drop as it slipped through
the gasping lips of my teardrop, producing a gentle
tickling feeling. As my prick shrank and lost
sensitivity, I felt my foreskin being pulled forward
to cover my helmet.
We lay still on the bed, exhausted from our efforts,
and I reflected on the intimacy of our complex
three-way relationship. We had been through a lot
during the last few  weeks, faced danger and fatigue,
and shattered  a dangerous terrorist organization.
Despite this, the end was not in sight. Our problems
were multiplying and becoming more dangerous, and we'd
need all our physical and emotional resources to face
them. However, I was confident I was teamed up with
the best in the field.

The end

	Would you like to read a sequel to "Arrest Record?"
Please let me know.