Catfish Looks for Loot 2 By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have, comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com
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The next day was good. Eubank's "special' collection had more authentic items than I had guessed. We had a good conversation. I told him I had a confession to make. Eubank turned white as a sheet.
"I'm actually buying things for another guy. He is rich and doesn't want anyone to know what he has or is buying. He says he is afraid of robbers, but some of his stuff may have come from other collectors and museums. I kind of think he may not exactly have had their permission to take the stuff. Do you know what I mean?"
Eubank relaxed. "We are very private here. If he pays in cash there will be no record at all," he said. "Do you buy stuff for other collectors?"
"I do have a few private clients," I said. In the antique world, private clients are often receivers of stolen goods.
"Can I help you with anyone else?" he asked.
"I do know one guy who is into old paintings. He has a business that is mostly all cash," I said. "A good painting is a way to hide your cash in plain sight. Most people think it's a print."
"What sort of business is he in?" Eubank asked.
"He into trash collection, I replied. "Let's just say he also gets rid if things that the EPA would not approve of. That is a gold mine financially."
The doorbell rang, and it was Eubank's pal, Jerry. Jerry was Eubank's childhood friend, and he was a Woody Allen type. He worked the night shift as a stocker at Walmart. We talked a little, then a van drove to the door and six women came in the store. They were in the mood to shop. That ended the potential for some fun for me.
"Would you like a beer?" Jerry asked me. "I live a few blocks away." I figured why not, and we went off. Eubank said he would join us later. Jerry lived in a big, slightly rundown house. It was his family home and his mother had died a year earlier, leaving him the house. He was the classic, youngest son who stayed home to take care of mom. The drapes were drawn and the house was dark. He turned on a light and I immediately saw a picture from the Hirsh collection.
He went to get the beers, and I looked more closely. I looked for the little dots that mean it was a print. It was a watercolor and ink drawing of an almost nude man at a well. It was signed with a capital interlocked letters A and D. I remembered it was by a German painter.
There were several other paintings in the room, all drawings from the collection, mostly of nude men. Jerry came back, with the beers. "These are petty drawings," I said. "Did you get them from Eubank?"
"Yeah, they figured no one in Petersburg would buy a picture of naked men. Eubank's boss doesn't like prints or stuff on paper. He sold me these just to get rid of them," he said. "Do you like them?"
"Let's just say, I have no problem with naked men at all," I replied.
"I don't either," Jerry said. "They aren't dirty pictures like Eubank's boss thinks they are, I like them."
I looked at the picture of the man at the well. "He certainly fills the jockstrap well, doesn't he?" I said. We talked a while and drank the beer. Jerry was a nice man who had given up having a life to take care of his mother. He was smart, but getting a new life at forty is difficult. While he went for refills, I took pictures of the pictures. When he returned we drank the beers.
Out of nowhere he said, "Eubank told me you could fill a Jockstrap too. He said it belonged in a museum."
"Did he tell you he got to know my cock, up close and personal?" I asked smiling. Jerry nodded.
"Would you like to see it? I'm not the shy type," I said. He nodded again. The nod was unnecessary; he was rock hard. I unzipped and pulled my cock out. "Will you show me yours?" I asked.
"I'm embarrassed; it's hard," he whispered. It told him that was fine. I liked hard cocks. We stripped and he was in better shape than I had guessed. He was small, hairy and almost toned. His cock was a thick seven incher. I later found out his only sexual experiences were with Eubank, and consisted of sucking him. We got naked and I introduced him to the 69 position. I am a good sucker, and got him off, taking his load in my mouth. He loved that and asked if he had to take my load in return. I said no.
He sucked me a second time. When I told him I was close he kept on sucking. He surprised me by taking it all. After the first few spurts, he took the remainder with considerable gusto. When he pulled off he was hard again, so I sat on this cock. It fit well. I bounced on it and he lasted five minutes before giving my prostate a sperm bath. Jerry was a very happy man.
When I left he asked if I might drop by to see him another time. I said I would like that. I think Jerry was surprised at my answer. He had been living with his mother for a long time. I was leaving as Eubank came up the street. I assumed they would have a lot to talk about.
I sent my images to Townsend at the Museum from the car. A few minutes later he called me and asked me to come directly to the museum.
Townsend, the director, and the Chairman of the Board were waiting. The Chairman had obviously been at the pool and had rushed over. This additional find pretty definitively indicated that much of the collection survived.
Finding a major trove of looted artwork 60 years after the defeat of the Third Reich was a big deal. The museum was up and coming, and this would increase the museums prestige greatly. More importantly, the sole serving direct heir of the family, Rachel Myers, was a friend of several board members. She had terminal cancer and when they told her about the discovery she offered to give the artworks to the museum as a memorial to her family.
I told them about my trash man art collector. I asked if they could find someone to play the role if necessary. Townsend and the Director both said the name Toby. He was a local collector who owned a huge plumbing supply company, but he was also deeply involved in recycling. They would talk with him.
The next day Toby called me. He had heard about the Hirsh collection and was interested in helping. He wanted to meet me and see what he could do. I went to his house at 8:00 that evening. Toby was a solid 6-feet-five, massive man.
he looked like a super-sized Ed Asner. He was a native of Emporia, and he had a spectacular accent. It was pure Southside.
I had the images of the Hirsh collection on my computer. I showed it to Toby. He was shockingly knowledgeable. He told me his late wife liked paintings. She had bought several forgeries, and he got into it to make sure the works she bought were genuine. "It turns out I got to love it. I also had a better eye for art than she did. She died five years ago, and I am still collecting."
I showed him my pictures of the paintings in Petersburg. He was shocked by them. "Do these guys have any idea what they have?" he asked. I told him about Townsend's $150.00 Corot.
"Corot ain't my favorite painter, but damn, those guys must be clueless," he exclaimed. He continued looking at my photos, and came to Jerry's jockstrap wearing man at the well. "Damn, is this a fucking Dürer?"
"I don't know what a fucking Derer is. The drawing has an A and a D on it," I said.
"It is a drawing?" Toby asked.
"It looked like an ink drawing with watercolor on it to me," I said, "What is it worth?"
"The etchings can sell for thousands. A painting could sell for millions, maybe ten or twenty million," Toby replied. "If it is real of course."
The phone rang. It was Townsend. He had found a reference to the drawing as a study for a well-known etching. It had been authenticated in the 1880s, before modern technology. He was in his car in front of my office he wanted to talk with me. I told him to come in.
He was surprised to find me with Toby. They knew each other but I had a feeling they were closer than that. I felt a sexual undertone. This surprised me, but I soon guessed they were friends with benefits not monogamous lovers. When the surprise of meeting wore off, I had a feeling they were considering the possibilities.
"How did you get in with Eubank and Jerry so quickly?" Toby asked.
"I guess you could say we shared some common interests," I said. "I hit it off with Eubank and he then introduced me to Jerry. I'm pretty sure they are clueless about the paintings."
Toby looked puzzled. Townsend join in to explain. "I think you and I share the same interest as Catfish," he said to Toby. "Catfish sports a world's fair exhibit. He makes friends quickly."
"That is not part of my normal business approach," Toby said.
I smiled. "Don't worry. That base is covered," I said.
"I would like to see the pictures. Can you arrange that?" Toby asked.
"I can try, any chance you are free tomorrow? The boss man is back on Saturday. We could see more without him," I said. " The boss might be smarter than Eubank. Shit, he has to be smarter than Eubank!"
"If you can arrange it, I can be there," Toby replied. He left with Townsend.
The next morning, I called Eubank and said I had my art collector interested.
"Is this the guy who buys with cash?" Eubank asked. I said it was the same man. He said to bring him by with some cash.
"Are you on commission?" I asked.
"I sort of am, especially when the boss is away," Eubank explained.
I called Toby and we went over in the afternoon. Toby was in an old van, and was wearing Redneck high style clothes. The close weren't exactly dirty, but they were worn and used. He also wore some flashy gold jewelry and a Rolex. Toby knew the look of a Redneck who had made it big.
He hit it off with Eubank right away. Eubank was from South Hill; Toby was from Emporia. They were both small, Southside towns. Toby said his wife was all artsy-fartsy and she liked pretty things. "I don't give a shit about art, but every time I give her a painting she does a fancy dance on my love pole. Buying a painting or two is worth it."
"Shit, I can sell you a month or two of paintings," Eubank said. "That love pole of yours will be callused." The combination of wild sex and art collecting seemed odd to me, but Toby knew rednecks. To Eubank loving art was odd, wanting to get fucked was normal and expected.
Toby also knew what would be a good price for Eubank. He offered more money for big paintings and less for smaller ones. He also knew that $100.00 to $300.00 would seem like a good price. He also bought a Confederate sword for $1,500.00. Eubank knew more about the memorabilia than art. Eubank wanted a higher price, but Toby asked if he had the original bill of sale for the sword. Eubank agreed to the lower price. It almost certainly had been stolen. We left with 10 paintings and the sword for around $3,500.00. More than that would have been suspicious.
While Toby and Eubank negotiated, I wondered around and found the office. Nothing was filed; it was stacked. I did find an old rolodex. I went through it quickly. One name stood out. Karl Koenig of 158 Wasserstrass, Hamburg, Germany. Most of the other names were local. If figured the FBI guys could check on that.
I rejoined Toby and Eubank. By this time, they were old pals. I assumed $3,500.00 was a really good day for the store, even after Eubank's discount.
As we drove away I saw Jerry mowing his lawn. We stopped and said hello. Jerry was wearing a wife beater and shorts. That looked a lot better the clothes he wore to work. We went inside for a beer and Toby saw the paintings. Toby said he liked the paintings and told Jerry the story about his wife's art collecting activities. "My wife wouldn't think much of the naked guy pictures, but I like them. They would be real nice in my hunting camp."
"Does your wife visit the camp often?" Jerry asked.
"Well, she likes the condo at Wintergreen. She doesn't know about the hunting shack. It's where I can let it all hang out with the guys," Toby said. "It is a piss behind a tree and skinny dip in the stream kind of place."
"My Uncle had a place like that. I loved being there with his kids," Jerry said. "I didn't know adult men were ever naked. My uncle was an impressive man. I didn't know cocks grow when you get older."
Toby laughed. "That was a surprise to me too. As kids, we messed around some, but most of the guys out grew that," he remarked. "I thought I out grew it, but some things feel so good, I still think about them."
"I think about that too," Jerry admitted. Jerry had one notably endearing characteristic; he got hard at the slightest suggestion of sex. The only thing that spreads faster than the common cold is an erection in a group of horny men. I wasn't horny or interested, but my cock was and my body followed my cock's lead. Toby undid his belt and Jerry went for his cock.
Toby's cock was thick, stubby and shaped like a fire hydrant. He had bull balls. Toby looked uninterested, but his cock was dripping like a faucet with a bad leak. I joined Jerry, since there was more than enough precum for two men.
"You guys don't need to do this," I said. "I don't reciprocate."
"It tastes good," I said, "Just relax and let nature take its course." His cock was oozing all the reciprocation I needed.
"I'm getting close," he moaned. Jerry pulled away, so I took Toby's mushroom into my mouth and worked my tongue into his slit. Toby tried to pull away, but it was a halfhearted attempt. He shook, shivered and moaned as he unloaded. I kept his knob in my mouth and took every drop. I have a little confession to make. I'm a small guy and I love it when I make a mountain of a man like Toby lose it and eject the entire contents of his balls into my mouth. It was really good for me.
I pulled away when he stopped ejaculating. I stood up and Jerry turned his attention to my cock, swallowing it whole.
"Damn, you can take the whole thing!" Toby exclaimed as he watched Jerry. "We look like a bunch of fucking hairy monkeys." I was ripe and fed him my cream. Jerry seemed to have acquired a taste for man seed. We returned to the art. Jerry's car needed some work and Toby traded him $1,000.00 for the Dürer. Jerry had paid $20.00 for it, so he was happy.
We returned directly to the Museum. Toby called ahead and there were armed guards ready to protect us as we arrived.
I the van, Toby was a bit uneasy. "You wouldn't mention this to Townsend, would you?" he asked.
"I never kiss and tell," I replied. "You don't need to worry one bit."
"I know I should be okay with what we did. I can't seem to come to grips with it," Toby said.
"It's hard to change the habits and thinking of a life time," I said.
"You ate my cum," he said.
"Was it good for you?"
"It sure was. I loved it, but it didn't seem right," Toby replied.
"I know I liked and since you liked it, what is the problem?" I asked.
Toby smiled. "I guess you are right. It seemed one sided," he said as we drove into the Museum gate.
When the gate closed the guards and staff descended on the van. We had just placed the painting in the van. Toby had blankets between the paintings. It was immediately clear to me that the people who move art works in a museum are not wild and crazy guys. They were obsessively careful. The director and the head curator saw the Dürer drawing and immediately knew it was real.
Townsend had been researching the paintings and the art experts who had authenticated the works. I would have thought that art historian in the 1880's would be obscure. Townsend knew who he was and his track record. Many attributions in that period turned out to be incorrect. This historian was not one of those; his judgement had held up well.
The Hirsh family was careful about collecting only genuine works. The lived in an out of the way part of East Prussia. Apparently older families who needed cash sold to the Hirsh family because they were noted for paying good prices. Many of the families had bought the works from the artist himself, or from the original owners. The collection was not well known since it was located far from Berlin, Munich and Dresden, the major artistic centers.
I gave the name to the FBI guy and he immediately got the ball rolling. I went to an update meeting at the museum at 11:00 the next morning. The name in Hamburg was for a big time art dealer. Karl Koenig had died two years earlier, but his sons still ran the business. Unlike my Petersburg antique shop, the Koenig firm had good records and were co-operative.
We knew that the Hirsh collection was extorted from the family by a Nazi official to allow them to immigrate. We knew the official planned to take the collection to his family home in Dresden. He died in the fire-bombing of the city. The collection did not reach the city. It either was abandoned or stolen on the way.
We knew that by 1944-45, the Russians were advancing and the men transporting the collection could have fled to the west to escape capture by the Russians. They could had simply abandoned the collection in a barn or house, or they could have divided it up into more transportable bundles. Other persons may have just found the art work and carried it off.
We now knew that part of the collection was in Hamburg before it was sent to the US and came to be in a Petersburg antique store, but had no idea how it got there. Townsend was on the trail. I knew him as a casual playmate, not as an art historian. He had a cluster of interns working with him on the recovered paintings and the missing paintings from the gallery photographs.
We had found paintings by Dutch and French painters, and some impressionist works. With the exception of the Durer, we were missing the big time painters. We hadn't found a Rembrandt, and two Frans Hals paintings. The younger Hirsh collected modern paintings. I recognized the names of a few of them, Picasso, Dali, and Degas.
Townsend thought they could have been destroyed as degenerate art, but it didn't seem to be coincidental to him that they are all big ticket paintings. He thought if you encountered abandoned paintings, you might scoop up those by famous artists and leave the rest. He believed we were dealing with two or more thieves. One may have been knowledgeable, the other perhaps not.
Hamburg is a long way from East Prussia, as is Dresden. The senior museum people, the Nazi Art people and the FBI would decide on the next course of action. I was needed for only the Petersburg part of the action. The museum Director said I had the Dumb Redneck aspect of the problem under control. Strangely enough, that was a compliment.
The next day Toby called me as asked me if I would like to go fishing at his camp. He wanted to talk. I said yes, but I knew he wasn't that interested in the fish.