Date: Fri, 13 May 2005 15:19:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Special Assistant 14

Special Assistant

Part 14

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.

I spent the night at Watson's apartment.  Wizard woke me at three and
screwed me a second time, then again at six.  I was relaxed the second time
and more like Jell-O than a man the third.  As I relaxed, Wizard got deeper
and a bit more aggressive.  Less tense, I enjoyed it more.

"Jason, I've never been able to break in a man so fast before," Wizard
whispered to me.

"What do you mean?"

"It takes a long time for most guys to relax enough to enjoy it," he said.
"For some, it's just the novelty of having my monster in their ass.  It's
not fun for them.  They think of it as a genital trophy."

"Like the fish that didn't get away mounted on the wall?" I asked.

Wizard gave me several deep thrusts before he answered.  "I guess you could
put it that way," he replied.  "I get the feeling you like this as much as
I do." I couldn't answer him right away.  He had shifted my position and
the telephone pole in my ass hit something new.  It was almost too much.

Watson woke.  "Have you guys been at it all night?" he asked.

"Not quite all night," Wizard replied.  "You have nice friends."

"He's good for a Republican," Watson replied.  With that comment Wizard
gave me a hard thrust and we both shot off.  It's hard to have a
simultaneous orgasm, but Wizard and I did it.  We twitched and shivered
together, each ejaculation was perfectly timed.

I went off to work, but I said I'd get to the Library of Congress to hear
Wizard's lecture later in the week.  It was a busy week for Rolf and for
me.  He had several appointments and an interview for a magazine.  I took
him to a meeting with the former Secretary of State.  She lived in a rather
quiet and unassuming house near Washington Cathedral.  I was surprised when
Marty appeared.  I didn't know the other men and women, but I had the
feeling I should have known who they were.

I soon realized these were the Assistant Secretaries and Under Secretaries
who actually ran their departments.  I dropped off Rolf at 2:00 and picked
him up at 5:00.  Rolf didn't talk on the return drive, so I let it slide.
Rolf would tell me what was up when he was ready.  A few weeks later I
found out I had made points with Rolf by not asking.  He told me the
meeting was disturbing and he needed time to think it over.

If Rolf was disturbed that evening, the next morning's Post worried him
even more.  The Press Secretary was found dead, floating in the reflecting
pool at the base of the Lincoln Monument.  The article said, "White House
functionary killed in freak accident."  That was hard to believe.

The White House Press office did its job and the official story seemed to
be accepted by the mainstream media.  There was some whispering about being
considerate of the dead man's family.  No one seemed to think it was odd
when a healthy advisor to the President went for a walk sometime between
two and three in the morning and accidentally fell into the reflecting pool
and died.

Kevin Magnuson, our detective friend dropped in a few days later and gave
us the inside scoop.  The Park Police found the Press Secretary nude below
the waist, drowned in two feet of water.  There was no blow to the head and
the best guess was that someone had held him down.  There was a high level
of alcohol and of Crystal-Meth in his blood.

He apparently had been gang raped, or gang banged before he died.  Sperm
from six men was found in his ass and rectum.  The F.B.I. was handling the
investigation and the Metropolitan police were specifically excluded from
the case.  This really rubbed the Metropolitan Police the wrong way.  They
were use to dealing with delicate situations.  After all, a parking ticket
served on a diplomatic car could cause an international incident.  They
knew how to deal with sensitive cases.

I told Kevin of my experience with Steven in the Cosmopolitan Club.  Kevin
knew most of what I told him and had guessed the rest.  "I wonder if the
Press Secretary shared Steven's fantasies? He may have taken his abuse
fantasies to the wrong group of men," Kevin said.

"Or perhaps his fantasies became a problem, or he became a rival for
Randall's affections. Someone decided to get rid of him," Rolf suggested.
"His taste for masochism could have been his undoing.  It would be easy to
use that as a cover for a political assassination."

"He has a wife and several kids," Kevin said.  "There may be an effort to
spare them embarrassment."

"I don't believe anyone in this administration gives a shit about a
family's humiliation," Rolf said. "Look what they did to Vince Foster's
family.  No, it's a good way to escape from the very real embarrassment of
a family-values administration with a few gay masochists in its innermost
circle."  We discussed to possible scenarios with Kevin, but found none of
them particularly convincing.

I took to watching C-Spans broadcasts of the daily White House briefings.
Much to my surprise Randall was still there and seemed to asking questions.
He seemed to ask a question at just about every briefing.  Whenever the
acting Press Secretary got caught in a difficult line of questioning, he
would call on Randall for a soft ball question.

Steven was Randall's patron in the White House. When the Press Secretary
died, Randall's White House career blossomed.  Randall's involvement with
the White House increased.  I wondered if the Press Secretary had been an
impediment to Randall's career, or had blocked Steven's plans for advancing
his protegee.

Before the murder Randall was quiet and in the background.  Afterwards,
Randall was much more in view. He was well on the way to becoming a fixture
at the daily briefing. One thing didn't change. Randall continued to wear a
day pass rather than the plastic encased photo identification badge all the
other reporters wore.

The Press Secretary's death caused remarkably little stir, so little it was
impossible to believe the White House had not applied massive pressure to
keep it quiet.  Kevin came at the end of the week and gave us an update.
He was working on the case. "The FBI has it under control," he said.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Rolf asked.

"They are looking into international terrorism and the chance possibility a
homeless man killed him," Kevin explained. "It's hard to visualize six,
homeless, gay, rapists meandering down the Mall at three in the morning.
It would be laughable if a man wasn't dead.  Murder ain't funny in my
book."

"Could it be a love triangle?" Rolf asked. "Steven is clearly attached to
Randall, but the Press Secretary was younger and more attractive.  Steven
doesn't take losing easily and will do anything to win."

"Lying, cheating and stealing is a long way form murder," Kevin
said. "Steven Martineau is the arch-type of the white collar criminal. It
would be a stretch for that sort of man to use violence."

"Masochists are complicated men," Rolf mused. "Senator Wilburn had the
problem.  He craved sex, but felt it was sinful. Wilburn needed a dominant
sadist to force him into sexual acts. He could only enjoy sex if he was
forced to. Most sadists are play acting, but some are disturbed.  Most
problems started with men who were play acting, but got carried away."

"Senator Wilburn died of a heart attack as I recall," Kevin said. "Was that
really the case?"

"Technically, that was true," Rolf explained. "He was bound and gagged and
had a panic attack while being whipped. It was tape recorded, so there was
no question it was at Wilburn's own request. No charges were filed."

"Have you found any leads?"  I asked. "Other than terrorists and
sex-crazed, homosexual homeless men, I mean."

"We have enough DNA evidence to identify the men if we find them," Kevin
answered. "Normally I would think the sexual aspect would exclude
government agents, but our adventures in Iraq and at Gitmo make it's clear
to this administration gay rape is as American as apple pie."

"I never thought there would be American torture chambers," Rolf
commented. "Apparently homosexual sex is evil unless it's forced on
unwilling prisoners."

"I never thought of it that way," Kevin mused. We talked for another ten
minutes and Kevin had to get back to work.  That evening Rolf and I went to
the Library of Congress and heard Wizard's lecture. We got there a little
late, but a good looking young man gave Rolf his seat and I stood in the
aisle.

Wizard's lecture was impressive. He had a knack for putting complicated
scientific concepts into easily understood terms and building up his
argument logically and seemingly effortlessly. He wasn't an alarmist, but
by the end of the lecture I sensed we were at a turning point. Deep in my
heart I knew there was no way the current administration would be able to
respond to, or even understand or the problems that faced us.

The lecture lasted an hour and a half, but it seemed like thirty
minutes. Afterward, we went to a reception in the lobby. At first I thought
the reception was for defeated Democratic Presidential candidates, but I
did pick out one Republican Senator. I also ran into Gill, my acquaintance
from the weekend in the country.  He and Wizard were friends.

As we left, I saw the young man who gave up is seat for Rolf.  I thanked
him. He was James Wilson and was an aid to the minority leader of the
house. He lived in Georgetown, so we gave him a ride home.  My gaydar
wasn't perfect, but I got some strong vibes from him. By the time we got
home, it was clear Rolf was the object of attraction. Wilson liked older
men.

I returned to my apartment and James stayed for a drink with Rolf.  When I
got back, my answering machine was blinking. It was Gill.  He wanted me to
stop in for brunch the next morning. I returned the call and said I'd be
there.

Gil was staying with a friend in the Watergate Apartments.  The view was
spectacular. His friend was a curator at the National Gallery, Nate
Bullock. Wizard, Watson and the Bishop joined us for breakfast. Nate was
friendly and unassuming. At five feet five, balding and bearded, he was
just plain ordinary looking.  He and Gill were the odd couple. Gill was as
distinguished as Nate was ordinary.

Nate was a great cook and the food was a long way from my standard Egg
McMuffin breakfast. The conversation was good too. Bloody Mary's and
Screwdrivers contributed to the open and pleasant conversation.  I was a
pleasant morning. The party was winding down when I walked in on Nate
giving Watson a blow job in the bedroom.  For some reason I was incredibly
horny and hard as a rock, so I joined in.  "I'm sorry," I said, "That looks
too good to pass up."

"No problem at all," Nate said.  "I added a little booster to
breakfast. Everyone one should be hot to trot." He was right.  A minute or
two later everyone was in the bedroom, stripping. Everyone was horny and
just as hard as I was.

I was afraid I was getting a reputation as a bottom, but with Nate there, I
didn't need to worry. My interest in anal sex was but as a modest hobbyist
compared to Nate.  He was a 100% bottom sex pig.  He loved it. Nate was
also wildly enthusiastic about it and his enjoyment spread.

In my sexual experiences, anal was the high point of the sexual experience,
the main course.  With Nate as the Master of Ceremonies, fucking was the
appetizer as well as the main course and desert.  He liked ass
holes. Rimming, licking and fucking, he liked it all.  It was also clear he
was a size queen.  He had a tight ass and it wasn't easy, but he loved them
big and he loved to watch a guy take a big one.

That is where I came in. I had taken both the Bishop and Wizard as well as
Gill. Nate watched me sit on Wizard's cock as the Bishop worked his cock
into his own, very tight hole. Nate moaned and twitched as the monster
organ penetrated deeply into his rectum.  Wizard sat on a chair and I was
facing away from him as I impaled myself. Nate was on his hands and knees
as the Bishop fucked him.

Nate's face was in my crotch and he tried to lick my asshole and Wizard's
cock as we fucked. Once the Bishop's pubic hair touched Nate's ass, Nate
was out of it. He was in a sexual trance, responding to the thrust of the
horse cock.

After ten minutes Wizard and the Bishop traded places.  I knew Gill liked
to fuck, but Watson wasn't that interested.  I didn't spend much time site
seeing when I was fully impaled, but when Wizard held me up, so only his
cock head was in my ass, I noticed Watson was fucking Gill doggie
style. Clearly both men enjoyed it.

I don't know what Nate had put as a "little booster" in the food, but we
went at it like dogs in heat for two hours. I didn't get tired.  Shooting
off several times, I stayed hard. The only time my ass was empty was when I
traded partners.

I had two rest periods, one with Gill and one with Watson. They were both
well endowed, but after wizard and the Bishop's monsters, they were
relaxing. After the first half hour, the sex dissolved into a haze of
pleasure. It was like a long sexual banquet, with each course flowing one
to another.

Watson's cock was a surprise.  He had a fireplug like organ and it was
unexpectedly exciting.  I don't know exactly what it hit, but it rang my
chimes. A little bit later Gill was fucking Nate when Watson realized there
was more room in Nate's ass and he was able to enter Nate's hole and share
it with Gill. Watson shot off and pulled out. I saw an opportunity and
shoved my cock into Nate's gaping hole.

Nate had been tight at the beginning of the session, but by now he was open
enought to drive a train to his ass. With two cocks it was a tight fit, but
Watson's cum provided addition lubricant.

Nate's ass was quivering and spasming. He tightened his ass and held my
cock against Gill's.  we rubbed to two organs together.  I could move more
than Gill, so I was essentially masturbating his cock with mine. I looked
at Nate in the eye, he smiled and then tightened his ass as much as he
could. Gill began to moan. I felt his cock twitch and I knew he was
shooting.

My entire body shivered as my balls exploded. When I pulled out, sperm
drooled from Nate's ass. Gill and I were wiped out, lying prone on the bed.
Nate got up. He opened my legs and licked my ass hole.

The Bishop got behind him and fucked Nate one more time. "It's like a
butter churn," he said.