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Related article: Date: Thu, 22 Jun 2006 14:07:42 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro
Subject: Exploring, Adult Friends, 29/29Exploring, Part 29
By Jackinnmyahoo.com Back home, Brad and I again got together for lunch,
sitting in a booth at the back of a fast food outlet.
It was after 2 PM, and few customers were present.
He’d indicated when he’d phones me that he had
something important to tell me.
“We just got the news,” he began. “Another doctor’s
been shot, this time in Mobile, Alabama. I don’t know
the doctor’s name, but this was just a couple of hours
ago, in broad daylight. A witness saw the shooter.”
“Any identification of the shooter?” I asked, as I
was apprehensive that the shooter might have been
captured.
“No, the witness was too far away to make out the
face. The shooter was on the fourth level of a parking
garage, and fired into a hospital parking lot, where
she brought down the doctor with a head shot while he
was unlocking his car. The witness was looking out of
her apartment window just at the moment the shooter
fired. The rifle obscured the face and the shooter
turned away after the shot.”
“Anything special about the shooter, though?”
“You bet there is, Jack. I saved the best for last.
The shooter was a woman!”
“If the witness didn’t see the face, how?….” I
began, but Brad had more to say:
“She’s sure it was a woman because of the long brown
hair. Also, the woman was wearing a tight jumpsuit and
that showed off her figure. She’s sure it was a
woman.”
“This opens Preteen Models Bbs
up a whole new ball game,” I suggested,
employing a cliché I didn’t like. “Maybe the woman had
had a kid who was circumcised by this doctor against
her wishes.”
“Maybe she consented but the doctor botched the job,”
Brad countered.
“I hope the Mobile cops don’t make the connection. If
they started looking at the doctor’s patients or
former patients, they might have a short list of
suspects.”
“If they look at patients who sued him, or who had
complaints against him, they’d have an even shorter
list,” Brad pointed out with a grimace.
“Was this doctor a high-profile circumciser?” I
asked.
“Hell, I don’t know. I don’t even know his name at
this point. Anyway, I didn’t think there were any
high-profile circumcisers left.”
“I think you’re right,” I agreed. During the couple
of years that a person or persons unknown had been
shooting or otherwise killing doctors Preteen Models Bbs promoting
circumcision, the number of circumcisions performed
had declined drastically, almost to zero.
“Well, I’ll try to find out more when I get back to
the office,” Brad exclaimed as he got up. He was a
police detective and we often compared notes on
high-profile cases.
“I’ll check around with my sources,” I contributed.
“Something might come my way. Want to come over after
work?”
“Sure. Suppose I come to yur house at six?” he
suggested.
“That sounds good,” I said as we parted. Back at the
newspaper office I scanned wire service reports,
looking for additional information regarding the
latest shooting. This search provided a few new
details and some unconfirmed information.
“Come on in,” I said when I opened the door, and Brad
walked into my living room.
“I’m not hungry,” he said. “We ate late.”
“I feel the same way,” I replied. “How about a beer?”
I offered. He nodded, and I returned from the kitchen
with two bottles of Dos Equis.
“My information is that the slant range for the
shooter was about 110 feet,” I said. “Slant range” is
the distance between gun muzzle and target, not the
range along the ground.
“Not too bad Preteen Models Bbs shooting,” Brad said.
“That’s right. The shooter made a head shot at that
range. A four-power scope would have been just right
for that shot.”
“She was wearing a black jumpsuit. You know what that
suggests to me?” he asked.
“I can guess- a police sniper, precision marksman,
maybe on somebody’s tactical team,” I replied,
confident of my answer.
“The bullet recovered appears to be a Federal .308
caliber 168-grain International Match,” he added.
“That pretty much clinches it for me. The .308 is
pretty much standard among police precision marksmen
and the 168-grain bullet is the most accurate they’ve
got.”
“If it hit the brain case the bullet would have blown
the top of his head off. His brain would have been a
bloody cloud. The one-shot kill shows she’s had
training,” I said.
“Right,” he added. “She’s got skill and she’s got
confidence.” As he spoke he moved closer to me on the
sofa and I found the contact of his tight against mine
arousing. He sensed it too, because when I got up he
followed me Preteen Models Bbs
into the bedroom.
“That means a very short list to work from,” I
suggested as I stripped off my clothing. “If she’s a
police SWAT Member, it’ll be very easy to narrow it
down.”
“Theoretically yes,” Brad said as he dropped his
clothes to the floor. “However, I don’t think the
investigators are going to be working very hard at
it.” He pulled at his prick as he said this, and I
suspected that the anticipation was arousing for Brad
because his hooded member began to swell.
We sat next to each other on my queen-size, and I
reached for his prick. I admired his natural foreskin
because it was long and tapered, swelling at the
corona and narrowing down to almost a point beyond the
end of the glans. Mine was the same way, but it was
not the foreskin with which I’d been born, but
reconstructed by plastic surgery. Now Brad’s strong
fingers grasped my foreskin at the end and pulled
outward away from my body. I felt the gentle friction
in my helmet as the sleeve of skin pulled forward.
“I like the way the shape of Preteen Models Bbs your tip shows through
your foreskin,” I commented as I pulled lightly on his
hood, as he was pulling on mine.
“Your tip shows up too,” he said. “I can see the
outline even though your skin’s thicker than mine.”
Now both our helmets were fully swollen, having
responded to the stimulation. I began easing his
foreskin back over the swollen dome of his helmet,
stretching the orifice.
“I know you’re feeling the stretch in your nerve
endings,” I said as I watched the orifice of his
foreskin widen as it rode over the nose of his glans.
“That’s a delicious feeling,” he said. Now he pushed
my foreskin back to reveal my dome. “You don’t get the
same sensation, I think you said.”
“No I don’t,” I replied. “Mine doesn’t have the nerve
endings yours does. I do feel the friction against the
helmet, though.” My heartbeat was loud in my ears, and
I knew that I was very aroused by his magic touch.
“Your tip’s already dark,” he commented. “Looks like
you’re ready to pop.” He pushed my foreskin back more
aggressively, stretching it hard over the crown until
it snapped down into the deep groove behind it. The
burst of sensation triggered my orgasm, and I began
howling as the contractions began deep inside me. I
squeezed Brad’s prick as I shot my first load, and
felt it throb hard through the covering skin.
We’d been so worked up we’d begun unloading
involuntarily, and we were both gasping and sobbing as
we grasped each other’s pricks to heighten the
sensations, spewing all over the sheet. Brad fell back
onto the bed and I rolled on him, bringing our pricks
in close contact their entire lengths, and I felt the
throbs of his shaft and glans against mine. Our hot
fluids poured between us, wetting our pubic hairs, as
we floated in blissful agony.
Both of us became very still because our tips had
become super-sensitive after several ejaculations. We
clung to each other, gasping as our life-force poured
from our straining pricks. We became still as the hot
thick juices continued to Preteen Models Bbs ooze from our swollen tips,
sinking into a delicious daze. We revived in a few
minutes, staring at each other in disbelief.
“Premature ejaculation! Can you imagine that?” Brad
asked.
“Well, we were really wound up today, and it shows
also how much we turned each other on,” I said.
“There was hardly any build-up,” Brad continued, “but
the orgasm was so intense that I’m totally drained.”
“Me too,” Preteen Models Bbs
I added as I got up off him and led the way
into the bathroom.
“How many more shootings you think there might be?”
Brad asked me as we stood under the warm shower. We’d
kept our helmets skinned back and the warmth of the
water flow had stimulated our bladders.
“I can’t say, really,” was my reply. “There aren’t
any big-time circumcisers left. The only possible
targets are those who clipped a kid who later resents
it and comes back for revenge.”
“Maybe the parent or uncle of a kid who was clipped,”
he added.
“Or aunt,” I pointed out. “The important thing is
that hardly any baby boys are getting ripped off these
days. Doctors are afraid to do it anymore. They’re
even shit-scared that a circumcision they performed
years ago is going to return to haunt them.”
“As it well might,” Brad said.
“As it already has, for some,” I appended.
“I’ll take a wild guess and say we’ll see maybe one
shooting a year,” Brad speculated.
“One will be enough,” I commented. The end
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