Intimate Investigations
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 winarch47@yahoo.com
I am Rodney Dennis. Everyone calls me Rod. I had been a detective in the Wytheburg, Virginia police force. I had a great record of solved crimes and a hundred percent clearance rate for major crimes. All was well until we got and new city council. They said they were the Law & Order candidates.
Their main efforts focused on "moral crimes." That included sex crimes, such as being gay and/or being Black, Latino, or foreign. Technically these were not crimes any more in Virginia, but they obeyed a "higher Law." Wytheburg had four-year terms of office. I resigned since there was no way I could have lasted that long.
My replacement was the son of the New Creation Church's minister, Dudley Donavan, Dudley Jr. Unlike his father Dudley wasn't evil, but when you met him, you wondered if he had been dropped on his head as an infant. His vocabulary consisted mostly of words containing less than six letters.
I founded a company, IIInc. Its real name was Intimate Investigations Incorporated. It wasn't officially a detective agency. I was mostly involved in extortion efforts focusing on gay men. I had a partner, Monica Martin. She described herself as a Bull Dike's Bull Dike. Let's just say I was the caring, sensitive one in the partnership. I handled gay men's problems. She handled lesbians' problems. We didn't advertise, but after our first cases most of the gay men and women in the state knew of us.
We had reasonable fee's but for some reason we got huge tips.
I am gay and tend to be slightly over sexed. I am the average sort of guy that you see on the street, but don't remember. I was ball boy, gopher for the wresting and football teams. I did whatever the coach didn't want to do. Once and a while I showered with the team. I discovered that my cock was not as ordinary and forgettable as the rest of me.
I did have one moment of athletic glory. The wresting team was off to a tournament, and the team was short one man due to the flu. I was the only one in right weight class, so I was a substitute. I wrestled and my opponent beat the shit out of me. I lost big time and had a dislocated shoulder. We won the tournament. The guys were nice to me for the rest of the season.
For the rest of the season, I used the coach's shower to make sure no one bumped my shoulder. I was showering one time when he came into shower. I got semi-erect, and I apologized. He said it wasn't a problem and then added, "If you need help with that come and see me after your eighteenth birthday."
I went to college and after my sophomore year I ran into him in the Wal-Mart parking lot. He asked me if my shoulder still hurt. I said no, but I had another thing that needed attention.
He smiled. "I'm not into kids, but if you can take it like a man, I could help you." We went to his house outside of town.
"Have you sucked cock?" he asked when we were in the house.
"A few times. I liked it a lot," I said.
"Did you take cum in your mouth?" he asked.
"No, but I'm pretty sure I would like yours," I said.
"Guys like my cum. I don't want to waste if when you spit it out," he said.
"I will be sure to swallow it," I said. We stripped and I sucked him to an orgasm. When I took it in my mouth, I swished it around like mouthwash before I swallowed. I shot off as I swallowed. Coach like that.
"Oh shit, I made a mess," I cried.
"That not a problem. I just wish you had shot off in my mouth," he said.
I got dressed and left. He said I could come by if I gave him a call-in advance. He said I had potential.
I called him a few times. He was free in the summer. One time he told me he as a pal with him, and then he asked if I would like a threesome. I said yes. I didn't exactly know what a threesome was. If it involved cock sucking, I was willing.
Coach's friend was Mr. Johansson, the art teacher. He was tall, thin and didn't look as if he had a muscle in his body. Coach asked if I had even taken a cock up the ass. I told him I hadn't, but I suspected that by the time I went home that evening, that would change. We had a good time as they gave me lesson in getting fucked. The art teacher's cock was long, thin, and easy to take.
I didn't have any idea that Mr. Johnson could find the places he did, and I could feel so much. Mr. Johansson was well lubricated and must have ejaculated a pint of cum deep in me. It was good and he said it had been great for him. It turned out to be the appetizer for the main course, Coach's cock. His cock was thicker and longer. Coach told me Johnson spurted the best lube he had ever used. He fucked me for fifteen minutes or more. I was wearing out, but when he ejaculated his load into me, I was in heaven
Two years later, Mr. Johansson was killed protecting a student from her deranged father. There was a huge funeral for him. People were embarrassed that they had made jokes about him as a weakling fag for years.
My connection with Coach and Johnson was good and changed my taste for sex partners. They gave me a lot more than a mouthful of sperm. They were into me. I wasn't just a quicky as had been the case with most of the guys my age. My ass wasn't a cum dump, for Coach it was a long massage followed by a deep lubrication with his own man seed. I am forty now and I have finally admitted that I am always willing to have sex with men.
After college, I joined the police force and rose through the ranks quickly. The former chief called me his human lie detector. I have a knack for telling bullshit from the truth. That was a useful skill for a cop.
My first case as the president of Intimate Investigations was for Bull Smith, the owner of the Bull Construction. They were a large firm which specialized in public building and schools. I didn't know him, but he knew Coach.
Someone had photographs of Bull in a motel room with another man. They wanted him to submit a high bid on a project, so that another firm would get the project. He was married and the picture might ruin his family too. He thought the ACME Construction was behind the scheme. I said I would investigate it.
I was surprised that a modern company would use ACME in their name. That was a name dating to the early twentieth century. ACME was in Gold Hills, a suburb of Norfolk. Gold Hills lacked gold and was flat as a pancake. It had more trailers than houses with foundations. ACME was a second or third tier construction firm that specialized in low bids and high extras. It tended to cheat its employees and sub-contractors.
I didn't shave for a few days, put on jeans, an old plaid shirt, and went looking of a bar near the ACME offices. I figured I would run into unhappy ACME employees. I found the Stars, Bars and Stripes Bar two blocks away. The bar was dirty, smoky, and smelled. Beer was cheap. There were a few over the hill women there and lots of guys. I had a beer and struck up a conversation. I said I was looking for a construction job.
I didn't take long to hear about ACME, and no one had a good word about the company. Everyone was screwed over, fucked, or dumped on by ACME. The president, Miller Bruce was the biggest asshole in the state, a crook, and a con man. The superintendents were slave drivers and forgot to record over time, so you didn't get paid. They employed thugs to beat you up if you complained.
The guys I talked to had real problems with the firm, but I knew most had what a called "lifestyle problems" on their resumes. I suspected resumes were not the true problem, reading and writing was a missing skill for most of the men. I got the name of the man who ran security for them and was the muscle, Bubba Billings.
I went off to the men's room to dispose of the beer I drank. Next to the Mem's room I discovered a back room, which was dark, all male and had a male stripper pole dancing. The patrons were a mixture of construction workers, young guys, and businessmen.
There was another room to the side. It was called the lockers, and if you paid ten dollars, you got a key, a locker and use of an old-fashioned gang shower. I paid the ten dollars, and an attendant gave you a key and a towel. "If anything spills you got to clean it up," he said.
I stripped, locked up my clothes and went in the shower. I knew that I was more attractive naked than dressed if you happen to be into cock. No one in the shower even pretended to look away. There was one young guy, three older men with odd beards who looked used, and three clean-shaven middle-aged guys. I wasn't exactly mobbed, but I soon had admirers.
I have one useful physical characteristic. My soft cock looks large. An old friend told me that I look bigger soft than most men look hard. That was nice but had rarely been useful in daily life. Guys don't wander the streets naked, soft, or hard. In the showers of the Stars, Bars and Strips Bar, my soft cock encouraged men to be friendly and talkative.
"Are you new here," one of the middle-aged guys asked. "I'm Bob."
I said hello and told him I was Rod.
"Is that your real name or is it a tribute to your cock?" he asked.
"It's the name my folks gave me," I said.
"I'm sorry if I offended you," he said. "I say whatever comes into my mind. That's a bad habit."
"It was fine," I said. "No one get insulted because a guy thinks you have a big one," I said.
"What's it like hard?" he asked.
"Let's just say that damn few virgins want to take my cock up their ass as in introduction for becoming a bottom," I said. "It tends to appeal to experienced men."
"The last time I played the virgin was twenty-five or thirty years ago," Bob said. "My ass isn't callused yet. Guys tell me it's still tight."
A man who sported an impressive Fu Manchu beard and mutton chop whiskers joined us. His name was Junior.
"Do you mind if I sample?" he asked as he stared at my cock. He dropped to his knees and tried to swallow my cock.
"Junior is the shy, retiring type," Bob said. "His ass might well be callused."
"He ain't pretty, but I bet he makes up for that with enthusiasm," I said. "Is there any chance he cleans up the spills and drips?"
"How and hell do you know that?" Bob asked.
"I once knew a guy who was a cum-hound. He like it fresh, cold, or as a spread for his morning toast," I said. "Junior reminds me of him."
We went to some marble benches in a corner of shower. As I expected Junior was a skilled and enthusiastic cock sucker. I was hard and that attracted other men who joined us in the corner. Four men entered the shower. They showered and then came to my quiet corner. Somehow, I suspected they could smell new meat.
There was no heavy-duty sex, just a little cock sucking. I realized that the shower was all gay, and they assumed if you were there you were into it. I could tell this was not their first-time sucking cock.
Some men liked sucking, some loved precum, and some wanted the sperm. I had been on the sidelines for a while and had a lot to give. Recently, my best friend had to go home to Iowa to help his elderly parents. I was a little afraid I was rusty. After fifteen minutes I was embarrassed to even think that. It was possible that I might forget something. My cock forgot nothing.
When my cock got tired my mouth took charge. I had the same reaction to sucking a cock as had as a teenager. I had not lost my sucking, or swallowing skills. I sampled Bob's cock. He oozed vintage precum.
I mentioned it was getting late and it was a long drive home. Bob said I could bunk at his house. I let him convince me. We dressed and I followed him to a nice subdivision five miles from Gold Hills. Bob was a developer and ACME had been the contractor for the subdivision. They almost bankrupted him. He made it through several years of lawsuits. His house was the only one on the cul-de-sac. That was where his money ran out. He knew a lot about ACME, none of it good. I asked him how they survived. Non-disclosure agreements were a part of any settlement.
He was a good cook, so the diner was excellent. Around seven he had a call which he took in the other room. He came back and said some pals had been planning to come over. He would cancel if I wanted. Of course, I said that wasn't a problem, I could go to bed and catch up on my sleep. He said some of his pals shared the same interests as we did. So, I told him to have them come over, and if things didn't work out, I could always go to bed.
Four men came over, Donavan was the young man I had seen at the showers, and Junior I met in the shower. There was a bear type man named Billy and a tall, thin man, Rusty. We talked briefly and I said I was tired and said I was going to bed. They looked disappointed. Then I added, "Would any of you like to share the bed with me?" I asked and added, "I should warn you I sleep naked and thrash around a lot."
"What if I said we would all like to join you?" Junior asked.
I laughed, "That would be fine," I said. "Is there any chance any of you would like to be fucked on your first date?"
"Be still my fucking heart," Billy said.
Billy, the bear, and Donavan, the young guy came with me. Billy sucked me and Donavan fed me his cock. Billy had been around the block a few times and he was an enthusiastic sucker. Donavan seemed to have been puzzled by my uncut cock. I told him to suck it, and the skin would pull back as my cock grew. Billy and Donavan changed places.
"Damn, it's big," Donavan said as it reached full size.
"Is it too big?" I asked.
"Shit no," he said.
Everyone had been around the block a few times. I'm not shy and they appreciated that. After a while, Junior took over the cock sucking, and Rusty fed me his cock.
After a while Billy sat on my cock. He was open and receptive. He moaned when I hit some new spots. I took that as a compliment, since I suspected Billy's ass had been well used. I pulled out before I shot off and eased into Bob's ass. Bob was tighter than Billy's, but I got it all in.
Donavan was desperate to get fucked. I had him sit on it. He was facing away from me, so the other guys took turns sucking him. I realized Donovan was a showoff, so he liked the attention.
"Are you going to cum in me?" he asked.
"Is that what you want?" I asked. He said yes.
Sucking cock is hard to screw-up. You can see what you are doing, and if you remember you are sucking with your mouth not with your teeth, all is well. Fucking is more complicated. Some guys are too nervous, or their sphincter is too tight. Sucking a cock almost never hurts, but you ass is designed to get things out of you body, not to let things in. I am careful.
There are revenge fucks, and there are proving you're a man fuck. I like plain old fucking, purely for pleasure. Some might say purity has nothing to do with it, but I like it when a man moans and begs me to get to deeper.
I took my time entering Donavan. My cock kissed his tight sphincter. I told him I was going deep, and it might hurt some. I pushed and I found his prostate a second later. His prostate was perfectly located, so my cock massaged it every time I made a thrust.
The men in the room appreciated my skills. A successful anal experience meant Donavan's ass was in play at the Stars, Bars and Stripes Bar showers. They knew that a good fuck by me improved their chances with him at the Bar showers.
I popped after few minutes. Fucking is usually private. Donovan shot off as I ejaculated. Since he was squirting, there was no question about what was happening deep in his behind. Billy and Rusty shared his cum We were all happy.
I feel asleep after my orgasm. I slept well and was surprised to find Billy slow fucking Donavan in the bed next to me. Rusty, Junior, and Bob were in the master bedroom.
Sex had been one-on-one for me except for a few threesomes. I realized that I wasn't as monogamous as I thought I was. I had thought that group play was trashy. I liked it.
At breakfast Bob told me more about ACME. Their success was a puzzle to him. They were quite well known, and their shoddy work was also well known too. He had mention to a friend who was using ACME because Miller Bruce, ACME's president, had pictures. His friend said he had and the might have ruined him. Bob dropped the subject.
He had a call and said he had to get to work. I said I would like to take a shower and return to my job search. "Lock up when you leave," he said as he left. I took a shower and then found time to look for blackmail material. Usually when a friend has a problem the friend is the man you see in his bathroom's mirror. I was right, there were photos in an envelope taped to the under side of his desk drawer. Bob was not an imaginative man.
They were of Bill with a young guy. He looks like he was 16-17. I assumed he was under aged. I remembered my experience with Coach. He was careful and I was legal. I could have passed for being over eighteen two years earlier.
I found the pictures because I know the usual place people hid things. It is often better to be lucky than smart. The photographer had his name and address on the back of the print. He was the arty type. It was a clear, matte sticker with his name lightly embossed. In the high-powered, retired detective world that is called a clue.
I replaced the envelope under the desk drawer and went looking for William Wallace, Photographer. He worked from a small office behind a rundown shopping center. I knocked on the door. A light turned on, and he unlocked the door.
William Wallace had long red hair and a matching red beard. His eyes were blue and a bit dilated. There was nothing about him suggesting success. I told him I was a detective, and he was in deep shit. I knew I shouldn't have done," he moaned as came close to collapsing. "I tried to stop, but they wouldn't let me."
I almost didn't need to question him. I knew the story except for the names and dates. I got the names and dates. I told him he had to get away to a new town, preferably a state or two distant.