Date: Thu, 3 Mar 2005 19:56:07 -0800 (PST)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Special Assistant 5

Special Assistant.

Part 5

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'm not the sexually experienced guy in the world although, Tommy, Marty
and Rolf had done what they could with me.  I was totally unprepared for
Admiral Billy's cock.  Marty was a big man, but Billy's cock sent me to the
moon and back.  He was as gentle and careful as he could be, given he was
forcing an organ the size of a baseball bat into my ass.

His cock head was huge and once it was in my ass, the rest was easy.  Easy
isn't exactly the right world, but the rest got in.  It was entirely
different from my other sexual experiences.

They talk about the bottom as passive and seem to think bottoming is
feminine.  As Billy's monster worked its way deep into my ass, I felt and
explosion of masculine sensation.  His cock must have reacted with every
drop of testosterone in my body.  I felt like Superman.

His cock may have hurt at first, but I was so overwhelmed by the
penetration, I didn't know what I was feeling, only that I liked it.  Billy
pushed it deeper and deeper and I went into a sexual trance.  When he
pulled out, I returned to this world.

"Are you all right?" he asked.  Billy looked concerned.  I didn't say
anything for a minute or so.  When I got my senses back, I said, "Shit that
was good."  Billy smiled, added more lube to his cock and pushed it in
again.  I went back to the moon.  Billy figured out how much I enjoyed it
and he relaxed.  He knew he had total control.  I was in no condition to
object.

I eventually got to know the Admiral well.  He was use to power and
authority.  He was a natural leader of men and had no need to prove
himself.  Physically he was strong as an ox and hung like a bull.  Weaker
men might feel a temptation to take advantage of my situation, but I don't
think that occurred to Billy.

He was happy I could take him so easily and so obviously enjoy it.  That
was enough for him.  It was more than enough for me.  After a half hour of
play, I was wiped out, so he pulled out and let me recover.  Billy was
pleased as punch I had enjoyed it.  He wanted to know how it felt.  I tried
to describe it.  I could tell he wanted to do it again, but didn't want to
impose.

I felt the urge rising again.  When Billy saw I was getting hard again he
asked if I wanted to do it again.  Of course I said yes.

"Would you mind if we tried another position?" he asked.

"Not at all, I replied.  He picked me up and took me doggy style.  It was
just as good as before if not better.  By the time I left in the late
afternoon we had been at it for four hours.  With each successive
penetration, I relaxed more and Billy worked his cock in deeper.

We talked between sexual interludes.  Billy hates the administration and
the new leadership of the Pentagon.  I was shocked at that, since I assumed
the conservative officer would be the administration natural friend.  Billy
was convinced the administration was destroying the uniformed services.
"They see global strategy and theory, but they don't have a clue as it what
it's like in the trenches," he complained.

"I never got close enough to the leadership to know," I said.  "Certainly
the war hasn't gone well."

"That what I mean.  They haven't learned the lessons of the Civil War, not
to mention Vietnam," Billy said.  "The problem with lightening attacks is
exposed supply lines.  The other problem is having enough troops to wipe
out a mediocre army, but not enough to occupy the territory.  Napoleon had
the problem.  Hitler had the problem.  We have it now.  I think they have
their heads up their asses."

"That not all they have in their asses," I said.  I regretted that
immediately.  Billy pounced and I told him about Randall-Ronnie.

"Who's the hooker's bitch?" he asked.

I didn't know and told him so.  Billy had some thoughts.  "Those men run a
tight ship, a gay whore in the press room can't be an accident," he said.
"Either someone way up is the hooker's trick, or someone low is being
blackmailed."

"By whom?"

"Let's work out a scenario," Billy said.  "We have an aggressively
"family-values" and Christian" administration which is openly anti gay."

"If you read any of Randall's articles, you'll find he's anti gay and as
God fearing as any guy into anal sex and water sports can be," I added.
Billy burst out laughing.

"That is a nice touch," he said when he stopped laughing.  "There are two
options.  Either, one of the top men is letting one of his underlings to
get involved, so he can have greater control.  If they consider getting out
of line, the threat of exposure could keep him on the reservation"

"The other option is more sinister," he mused.

"It seems to me, option one is none too good."

"Jason, you are young," Billy said as he continued.  "Option two is that
the hooker is serving someone at the top.  The hooker's handlers are using
the threat of exposure to make the top man toe the line."

"The president?"

"That's a possibility, but there's another one," Billy explained.  "The
leader of the free world has never had an original thought in his life.
The President does what his close advisors tell him.  Your friend Randall
may be playing with one of these men.  He may be pushing the president into
a direction the hooker's handlers want."

"What do they want?" I asked.

"Power or money." Billy said decisively.  "I miss spoke.  Power and money.
Billions of dollars are vanishing.  From the Defense Department, Homeland
Security, the CIA, Department of Justice.  It just vanishing."

"And who is after the power?"

"It could be a home-grown fascist," the Admiral said.  "Or it could be a
foreign power.  We are the only superpower, but we're bankrupting ourselves
and destroying our armed forces.  What more could second tier power want?"

"The Chinese?  The Russians?"

"They are possibilities, but there are other, like the Saudis." Billy said.
"They're arch conservatives and followers of an extreme form of Islam.  We
pretend they weren't involved in the 9-11 disaster.  You could make a case
they are at the core of what's wrong in the Islamic world.  The plot could
be to destroy us economically and leave them in the Catbird's seat."

"Maybe Randall's not there for the sex?  He just someone's friend who got
into the press room," I suggested.

"You've met him, right?"  Billy asked.  I nodded.

"What does he have going for him other than sex?"

"Not a whole lot," I admitted.  "I met him and he made a pass.  He
certainly didn't dazzle me with his intellect."

"Your friend who bought him for a weekend of fun, what does he do?"

"I'm not sure, but I think he's upper level CIA or something like that.
Maybe a contractor?" I guessed.  Billy knew what I meant when I said
contractor.  "Randall didn't meet me by accident, did he?"

"I rather doubt it," Billy said.  "You know he's close to someone in the
White House and you just happen to be the guy who approves press passes.
It's not a coincidence."

I looked at Billy.  He was an ugly man, but I could see his mind working
out the possibilities, considering the options.  I felt a chill realizing
he might be right.

"Are you cold?" he asked.  Billy put his arm around me and held me.  Oddly,
I had the sense he wanted to hold someone too.

I could sleep that night.  The next morning I went to work with Rolf and
told him or my conversation with Billy.  I asked him if he thought Billy
saw the situation correctly.

"Admiral William Miller is known for two things.  He one of the ugliest men
to set foot in the Pentagon and he's also one of the most perceptive.
Incite full, brilliant, gifted and decisive are the words they usually used
to describe him," Rolf said.

"And they fired him?"

"Yes, but not for being perceptive."

"What did they fire him for?"

"They fired him because he was right," Rolf replied.  Some people have a
vision of the way the world should be.  When they run into someone with
another vision, they're unhappy.  If they discover the man with the
competing vision is right, it's too much.  They have to destroy him."

"That's crazy."

"Jason, you don't understand the essence of fanatical belief," Rolf said.
He was like an old, distinguished college Professor explaining the basis of
life to a freshman.  "If God directly gives you your beliefs, mere reality
is unimportant."

"I don't think these men are that religious.  They talk the talk but don't
walk the walk," I said.

"For some men their own intellect is all the God they need." Rolf said.
"They create internal beliefs and justifications so strong and so logical
in their own view, they are the only possibility.  Any alternative views
are impossible."

Rolf was to visit a relative in Boston for the rest of the week, so I spent
the week in his attic arranging files and working on fact checking at the
computer.  Google is God's gift to the researcher.  I was able to find some
information directly, but most of my e-mails got good responses.  On
Thursday I got a call from Marty asking me to come to see him at his house
in Virginia.  He was having a few friends over and he thought I'd enjoy
them,

I wasn't sure I wanted to go, but lust always seems to carry the day in my
decision making.  I was on my way to Marty's house in the Blue Ridge on
Friday afternoon.  I'm a native of Indiana, and had done little sight
seeing since I came to Washington and the drive was fun.  I was a hot
summer day and once on got away for the suburban sprawl of Northern
Virginia, the countryside was beautiful.  I got on I-81 and loved the
scenery of the Shenandoah Valley, even if the 18-wheelers on the interstate
made it hard to look.

When I got off the road, I traveled down a series of progressively smaller
roads until I found and gate labeled Silverback Farm.  It seemed as if the
dirt farm road was a mile long, going almost straight up a mountain side.
I finally came to the house.  It was a 1920s bungalow in stone and wood
shingles.  I parked and Admiral Billy came out to greet me.

"I didn't know you were going to be here," I said.  "It's good to see you
again."  He hugged me and we went into the house.  "Marty is in town
getting some food for dinner," Billy said.  The main room of the house was
mostly windows, but was dark since the house was enveloped in deep porches.

I could see a man on a sofa.  He got up.  "Jason, this is Bernard, he ans
old friend of mine." Marty said in introduction.  I shook hands and
realized Bernard was a well known columnist for the New York Times.  He was
stocky and bearded and about 50.  Another man came in and introduced
himself as Herbie.  I couldn't place him at first, but I think he was a
former Secretary of the Treasury.

Herbie was tall and distinguished looking.  He had grown a beard since he
had been Secretary and was wearing a flannel shirt and genes.  He had been
very dapper and Wall Street before he retired.  I felt like Gulliver in the
land of the giants.  They were a brilliant and accomplished men as well as
being much bigger than me physically.

For a second I was afraid I was going to be their sex toy.  "Would you like
some lemonade?" Bernard asked.  "It's hot today."

I laughed and said yes.  If life serves you a lemon, make lemonade, I
thought.  I figured a weekend of being a sex toy could only be so bad.