Date: Fri, 1 Apr 2005 19:41:34 -0800 (PST)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Special Assistant 10

Special Assistant.

Part 10

By Bald Hairy Man    e-mail  bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com

This is an adult story intended for adults. It is a fantasy, so I again
remind you that I have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and
have included no gestures toward common sense either.  These are all new
stories.  Please e-mail me if you have any suggestions or comments.

Kevin became a friend.  His connections were in the day to day life of
Washington.  This was an entirely different world from that of the upper
tiers of the administration. He told me he'd check out the bottom feeders
and see if any of them knew Randall.

He called me a few days later. "Nobody, no where, no how knows Randall," he
said. "I did turn up something that might relate to your friend."

"What is that?"

"There's a trick hookers call the Fat Guy. They describe him as a
baby-faced man who like rough trade, military types," Kevin said.  "He
likes to get drunk and then get fucked after he gets pissed on."

"Why do you think it relates to Randall?"

"Well, when the guy got really drunk, he told his trick he was the
President of the United States," Kevin replied. "The trick, Bubba Davis,
told him he was full of shit.  Bubba's a sophisticate. Well, the guy told
him he was the real president. They fought over it, then Bubba made him
drink his piss. Bubba said the Fat Guy liked that. Bubba said the man told
him his name was Martin Stevens.  Bubba noticed the man's wallet was
monogrammed SM."

"My God, do you think it's Steven Martineau, Darth Vader?"

"The description is right," Kevin replied.

"What does Bubba look like?"

"He has a shaved head, is a body builder and is aggressively macho." Kevin
replied. "He was a freelancer when he met Martin Stevens.  He ran into some
bad luck and slipped off the "A" list, but he was a good-looking guy. He
was an all American type when things were good."

"Drugs?"

"Yep, he was the self confident type.  He thought he could take them and
not get hooked," Kevin said. "When you're into what he was into, you can
turn from a pisser into a pissee.  Water sports and kink can be a harsh
mistress."

"You think Steven Martineau is Randall's patron?" I asked.  Martineau was
known as Darth Vader by those who like him.  Those who didn't like him were
less flattering.  He was known for his no-holes-barred election strategy.
No lie, no slander, no misrepresentation was too far fetched for him not to
use.  He was best known for creating "independent" attack groups who could
spread his slanders while maintaining plausible separation from the
President.

I had never met him, but he was a god to some of the political types in the
White House.  If you were a believer in the win at any cost school of
politics, Steve was your man.  Rolf hated him.  "Mr.  Martineau knows how
to win battles.  He doesn't know how to win a war," Rolf claimed.

"He got the President elected," I retorted.

"Nixon won a second term too.  It was a real landslide though, not a 2
percent win," Rolf explained.  Rolf used his more to be pitied than
censured tone of voice.  "Nixon realized polarizing the nation could give
him a victory.  Nixon discovered he just couldn't rule the nation with it
turned into two camps, one of which hated his guts."

"Watergate brought him down," I said.

"Watergate is child's play compared with what's going on now," Rolf said.
"Nixon was fundamentally right about it.  Watergate was a second rate
burglary.  Billions are missing in Iraq. I don't have enough fingers and
toes to count the billions vanishing in the Pentagon.  Throw in a few
hundred sweet heart deals for your closest and dearest friends and the
total must be astounding."

"Why isn't anyone exposing the scandals?" I asked.

"My fear is a straw will break the camel's back and the administration will
fall like a stack of cards," Rolf said.

"If it's that corrupt that may be best."

"If the world were a perfect place, I would agree with you, but I'm
worried," Rolf said.  "We aren't talking about petty crimes.  The sums
involved are in the billions.  Perjury, treason, embezzlement, perhaps war
crimes are involved.  We're talking serious jail time.  Cornered rats are
dangerous."

"You don't really think treason is a problem, do you?"

"Yes I do.  There are two problems.  One is Israel.  There are many
high-ranking government officials who have been in the employ of Israel at
one time or another.  While Israel is a friend, its interests are not
identical to our own," Rolf explained.  "Iran is the other problem.  Some
of our "friends" in the Middle East may be Iranian agents.  State secrets
are not to be divulged to anyone, friends or enemies.  State secrets are
just that.  Lose lips sink ships, and our ship of state looks leaky.  By
hook or crook we have destroyed Iran's foremost opponents, the Taliban and
Iraq.  If you were to devise a policy to strengthen Iran's position in the
Middle East, you couldn't do better than we have done."

"When you look at recent scandals, you start with Watergate.  In Watergate
the Attorney general was implicated and went to jail.  State and Defense
were untouched.  In Iran-Contra the CIA and Defense were involved, but the
major players were in a shadow government at the White House. It didn't
reach into the departments." Rolf said.  "As I see it now, the President,
Vice President, Secretary of Defense and his staff, the Attorney General,
homeland security, the CIA and the FBI are all involved.  If the house of
cards collapses, who will be the president?"

"The Treasury Secretary?  President Pro-Tem of the Senate?"

"The Speaker of the House, but the leadership of the house is so corrupt,
it's hard to know who will be left after the bloodbath.  It's a frightening
proposition," Rolf said quietly.  "Once men and women made up the cabinet.
Most now are old friends of the President or proven incompetents."

We went back to work.  I thought Rolf overstated the problems.  After I
thought about his fears for a few hours, I began to realize he might be
right.  Marty, Rolf, Bernard or Admiral Billy were naturally political
allies of the President.  They were conservative and conventional men, with
a slight tendency to be libertarian in a moral sense.

Not one of them was happy. I was born after Watergate so I had no idea what
was like when a President's administration fell apart. I had little
knowledge of the history of that period.  That night I wandered into a used
book store and bought a copy of All the President's Men. The shop clerk, a
wild looking bearded man named Watson, knew all about Watergate.  He looked
like a wild man, but turned out to be a Civil War reinactor. Watson was
also a flaming liberal. He hated the President and everything the President
stood for. In his view every action of the President was pure political
calculation. I should have been insulted, but Watson had a sense of humor
as which was as wild and unconventional as his beard. It was near closing
time and several of Watson's friends appeared. I had fallen into a den of
unrepentant liberals.

It was as if I was back in a college bull session at the dorm. There was
one difference. These guys were both a lot smarter and a lot funnier than
any of my college friends.  Watson closed the shop and we went to Watson's
apartment to continue the conversation.

 Watson's apartment was a book lover's delight.  It was an entire floor of
a large town house and was well furnished, very well furnished.  His
friends were mismatched.  Brandon was a dapper and rather elegant State
Department protocol officer. Leonard looked like a football player, but
worked in the National Park Service as a planner.

Brandon had stories about what he called the "Hooterville Mafia."  Brandon
complained, "It's one thing to be yourself, it's another to be an
insensitive asshole.  Some don't understand that. Some are proud of their
ignorance." Brandon and the President shared the same educational
background, but Brandon spoke three languages fluently and was proud of his
knowledge of world affairs.

Leonard was an environmentalist and was interested in protecting wild
areas.  Both he and Brandon were waging guerilla war within the
administration, trying to save what they could.  I had been accustomed to
the "us verses them" attitude in the White House and the good natured, but
serious tone of these men was a pleasant surprise to me.

At some point in the conversation I realize all three men were gay.  I also
began to get interested in Watson.  In spite of his eccentric looks, he was
easy going and had an unforced sense of humor I liked.  He had a way of
making his points without being too aggressive.  I think he looked at the
world in a different way, and his comments made you look at things with a
fresh eye.

Somehow I bumped into him and he didn't seem to mind.  When Brandon and
Leonard left, Watson told me I could stay if I wanted.

"This has been a great conversation, but I've got to get home," I said.
"I'm worn out from all the talk."

"To tell you the truth, I wasn't thinking about conversation," Watson
replied.  I looked him in the eye and knew exactly what he was thinking.
It was what I was thinking too.  "Let me show you to my bedroom," he said.

"I hardly know you," I said.

He smiled.  "I not asking to marry you, I was hoping to suck your cock," he
said.

"That certainly sounds fair enough," I replied.

We both laughed as I followed him into the bedroom.  "I need to shower,"
Watson said.  "I'm covered with the dust of ages." We both stripped and
went to his bathroom.  Watson's shaggy beard merged with the hair on his
chest.  The beard was dark, but his body hair was reddish brown.

He stared at my cock.  "It's pretty," he said.  "I hope you don't mind
playing with Chewbacca." Watson wore baggy clothes, mostly tweedy and
professorial looking.  Naked he was well built, not stocky as I had
thought.  We got under the water and cleaned off.  He slipped to the floor
and began to suck me.

After three or four minutes he got up.  "I hope I don't offend you, but I
love cocks," he said.  "I know you're supposed to be into relationships and
the whole person, but I like cocks."

I laughed, as I felt his cock.  It hadn't been impressive soft, but it had
grown.  "I've got no problem with that.  It's wonderful that our
reproductive organ is also a toy."

"That's the way I see it," Watson said.  "It still amazes me how exciting
it is when another man plays with it.  When I was a teenager, I must have
been the jerk off king of Manhattan, but your touch is more exciting than
anything I could do myself."

"I bet you say that to everyman you meet," I said.

"Damn right, and it's true each time!  Let' get into bed."  We dried off
and jumped into his bed. Watson was a master sucker and we were a perfect
fit.  After I while I asked if he would like to fuck me.

"I'm not good at that.  I don't know why, but I lose my erection," he said.
"I'm sorry."

"Not a problem," I said.

He smiled.  "From the tone of your voice, I can tell you're not being
frank.  Brandon's a top.  He lives in the next block.  He can come over."

"He's in bed by now," I said.

"Don't worry about that.  Brandon's the Energizer Bunny.  He's always
ready, willing and able. We aren't lovers but we play together." Watson
relied as he reached for the phone.  It couldn't have been more than five
minutes before Brandon and Leonard were at the door.

"I hope you don't mind if I brought another top along," the State
Department official said.  They came to the bedroom, stripped and jumped
into bed.

"You're a life saver," Leonard said.  "Brandon and I are both tops.  It was
going to be like a dinner without desert."  Leonard was blond and had a
goatee.  His body was that of a tackle, but had somewhat gone to pot.  His
cock was uncut and looked like a fire plug.  Brandon was groomed and
elegant, like a 1930s statuette.  His cock was pure caveman, thick and
gnarly.

"I hope you don't mind if I skip the preliminaries and get down to
business," Brandon said as he coated his cock with lubricant.  Leonard
cuddled up to me and began to kiss me as Brandon lifted my legs.

Brandon's cock eased its way into my ass as Leonard's tongue headed for my
tonsils.  Both the cock and the tongue were longer than I expected and for
a moment it seemed as if they might meet.

"Damn, that's hot looking," Watson said, as he bent over and started
sucking my cock again.  I got confused.  It seemed as if feelings were
coming at me from all directions.  Separating sensations was hard.
Brandon's cock wasn't fat, but it was long and seemed to have a bend in
it. Whatever it did, it was hitting new places.  His cock was rubbing my
cock from the inside and Watson was rubbing it from the other.  I was in
heaven.

I had almost figured out who was doing what where, when Brandon and Leonard
rotated.  I sucked Watson while Brandon took care of my cock.  Leonard's
fat fire plug got me going again. He was a pile driver and popped my nut
after a few minutes.  Leonard shot off.  I almost cried when I climaxed,
but Watson filled my mouth with his cream.  My orgasm set him off.

We rested briefly, then Brandon fucked me again and shot off.  Brandon and
Leonard went home and I just stayed on the bed, exhausted.  Watson returned
to the bed and got beside me.  I was surprised when he began to rub his
cock against my ass.  I shifted to give him easier access.  Two or three
minutes later his cock was pumping in my ass.

We had both shot off already and were tired.  This was more of an anal
massage than intercourse. I may have been tired, but a half hour later I
had a prize winning orgasm.  I fell asleep with Watson slowly pumping his
cock in my ass.

Watson cooked breakfast for me the next morning.  I got to read the Post as
he cooked.  On page three was a photograph of the President, Steven
Martineau and Randall in deep conversation.  The caption said, "The
President and his top advisors discuss the next move in the Middle East."
In my wildest dreams, I never thought Randall would meet the President.