Kipling F. Holliday IV Part 6 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 rwinarch47@google.com
A first fuck can be either a disaster, or an introduction to a new world of pleasure. For Willy it was what he had been waiting for but hadn't known he was waiting. He loved it. I pounded him hard, but I had a feeling I couldn't get it deep enough to totally satisfy him. He could feel me when I shot off.
Willy was the youngest of five boys. He told me he had a good childhood, but in retrospect his parents sometimes mailed it in. His second oldest brother had problems and was continuously getting into trouble. Willy was a good son and while he never doubted his parents' affection, they had to spent time with his older brother.
Willy went home, gave me a good report, and then came back to stay with me. Gofer's snippet of information on the Ruth Cohen picture moved him. He had been a lackluster English major in college. He now wanted to go through the piles of information on the people I painted and turn it into something readable.
I thought that was a nice idea that gave him something to do. I also thought it was a hopeless task.
I didn't realize that Willy had lots of energy, and talent as a writer[BW1]. Willy knew he had energy but had no idea he had talent. He wrote simple, unvarnished prose. The drama was due to the personal histories of the dead. They needed no embellishment.
He set up a computer in the studio, so he was near the portraits. He could climb the scaffold and look at them. He was affable, pleasant, and got along with everyone including Monique, who could be difficult.
In general, mural painting is not a high-risk activity if you don't slip climbing the scaffold or hurt your back. We had a few threats, but the Police Chief knew my parents. I had no idea what his politics were, but he tolerated no trouble in his town.
We were moving at a good pace and four months later the painting was finished. The painting, my assistants, and I returned to Miami to install it in the cathedral. I was worried that we had never seen the assembled complete mural. I talked about that with my assistants, and we were ready to adjust.
We had a crew of construction workers to help installing the painting. Marco was one of the workers. The renovated chapel was screened off from the rest of the Cathedral. The mural was on five six by six-foot panels, so the complete work was twelve by twelve feet. It was big.
To my complete surprise the installation was easy and without incident. Construction workers don't work with materials like canvas and paintings. These men knew what they were doing, and the construction superintendent, Bill, seemed to have anticipated problems and had a plan to deal with them.
When my associates and I went up the scaffolding he had gave us complete instruction on how to do it safely. Billy-Bob was afraid he wouldn't have enough freedom to reach the painting. Bill called in a house painter to show how to paint safely. My guys painted the connections between the panels and made adjustment as needed. I tend to say things are good enough. Billy-Bob, Joey, Gofer, and Monique were not into good enough. The clouds had to be perfect, several portraits looked odd from the floor level, so Joey, Gofer and I touched them up. A few colors were too strident for Monique. We pulled an all-nighter, the first I had done since I was in college.
Unlike college when we drank Cokes and ate stale cookies, we had church members providing a steady stream of food and snacks for us. They also did clean up so the church Sexton wouldn't be overworked. The city police provided security. By ten o'clock the next morning we were done, and my associates were happy.
The dedication-consecration ceremony had been tentatively set for three weeks later. I didn't want to be recognized at the ceremony. I though the focus should be on the victims.
The ceremony was televised, and the All Episcopalian-Non-denominational approach was successful. It was obvious but seemed natural. There were threats of course, but the police presence was minimal. Many policemen and women can sing, so they were integrated into the choirs. Robes are good for hiding weapons.
The Chief had what he called AW officers watching the crowd. I had never heard of that before. AH was the Chief's phrase designating asshole watchers. There we no incidents.
A month later, the Cathedral had a dinner for the people who worked on the project. That included me and my associates, the architects, the builder and his crew and the committee members who raised the money and rain the project. It was a good event. My associates were unemployed, but they all found employment immediately.
I was ready to rest for a while. I had to close my parents' house and sell it. I had some items that relatives and friends liked. Some antiques and paintings were much better than I had known. Some went to a museum, and the rest went to an auction.
The house and the garage studio sold for double I had thought was its value. I returned to Miami Beach. I soon doing portraits and paintings of naked men. I did a portrait of Maximilian Barnes, a college professor of literature and nationally known scholar of Dante. I did a formal portrait for his college, and an informal painting of him nude in the guise of character from the Divine Comedy. That was for a special friend.
The portrait was good, the informal painting was great. Maximilian was formal and academic. No one called him Max, or God forbid Maxey. He Maximillian, fifty-five years old and he was finishing a new translation of the Divine Comedy. It was in modern English and maintained a good sense of the original Italian. I had no clue about the original Italian but was told his translation was brilliant.
Maximillian loved my sketches for his nude painting. He asked if I would consider doing illustrations for a deluxe edition of his book. He brought a copy of the Divine Comedy illustrated by Gustaf Doré. There were as many naked men in the illustrations as I had ever seen, and all of them were muscular.
Maximilian wanted fully nude men, but not pornographic. I told him I was good drawing men who were not pornographic.
"That is exactly what I want," he replied. I had a potential new project. As usual I made more preliminary sketches to explore the options. Rocky had been my most successful model, but he was too muscular. I asked a few friends to pose for me to do some exploratory sketches.
I had one nagging concern in the back of my head. Male genitals were rarely seen in art since antiquity. When the cock appeared, it was usually confined to Adam or Hercules. Modern porn tended toward one-hundred present exposure and usually erect. I wanted to find the normal exposure of genitals. What would be the appropriate exposure for male genitals? Was there a reasonable balance?
Billy-Bob, Joey, Gofer, Marco, Willy, Tyler, Pedro, Rocky, and Rutherford could pose. Salvatore, O'Brien, and Jerome were also willing to pose as were Art and Eddie, the men I met on the beach when I first visited Miami. I made a video of them wandering around my studio. We all watched the video and counted the number of times each man was in view and then what portion of the times you could see his cock. I realized that even though men in a shower are fully naked, the portion of the time the cock is visible is comparatively small. They are facing the wall or the side much of the time.
With our video, full frontal cocks were visible ten to fifteen percent of the time. I assumed the residents of hell were facing away from their tormentors. I realized it would be easy to show naked men and to de-porn the illustrations. That would make the book more sellable. The fig leaves were not needed.
Gustaf Doré was famous for his illustrations of the Devine Comedy. I needed a different style. His illustrations were heavily shaded and tonal. I tried several approaches and decided to emphasize the terrors of hell and the insignificant of the sinners. That also helped to de-penis the drawings.
While the drawings de-emphasized the genitals, the posing sessions did not. Posing for an artist is a difficult and intensely boring. Sitting or standing still for a half hour to an hour is miserable. The possibility of a sexual interlude between posing sessions increased the enthusiasm.
I remembered the "little bit of sugar makes the medicine" go down song. That applies to sperm. Given that I was illustrating the Devine Comedy we had a cheerful group. I also came to realized that my assumptions about men and their sexual tastes were mostly wrong.
Rutherford's friendship with Father Salvatore continued. It seemed as if every time Salvatore eased his cock into Rutherford's back side, Rutherford adopted more human characteristics. He could smile and only a portion of his conversation was made up of cutting comments. Rocky added Willy as a friend. He also liked Gofer.
Over the next two weeks I developed five drawings illustrating individual cantos from the poem. Maximilian came my studio to see them. He came unannounced with his partner, Rupert, who was a fifty- year-plus old man who called him Daddy.
I had been working with Father Salvatore who was modeling Charon, the boatman for crossing the river Styx. Rutherford and Gofer were sinners at his feet. Jerome came with them in case an extra man was needed.
My more complete drawings were of some quiet interludes when Dante was talking with sinners, and some dramatic scenes. Maximillian was surprised and pleased. My style was both traditional and unexpected.
His friend, Rupert was stunned. He thought my illustrations were just what he wanted, but he wanted my nude models more. My studio was warm. After my youth in a chilly northern state, warmth seemed exotic. Since I, and my models were usually nude, cold blasts of air were a problem. While the studio was airconditioned, my air conditioner would be best described as a part-time unit. It cooled some, but mostly it reduced the humidity. It was a wet dream come to life for Maximilian and Rupert.
Rupert was Maximillian's childhood friend. He had a bully problem Rupert was his protector. He was big, strong and had no problem dealing with Bullies. Maximilian was always eccentric, even as a child. Rupert went to Jerome, dropped to his knees, and sucked the young priest cock.
Rupert was a superb cock sucker, and before Jerome could react, it felt too good to object. His sucking skills were also one of the reasons for his long-term relationship with Maximillian.
Maximillian went to suck Rutherford. This was an unexpected turn of events. The men had been posing for an hour, and they were a break. I didn't think Maximillian would provide the entertainment for the break.
Maximilian had just retired from teaching and had no further duties at his university. Years earlier, the school had several scandals of student-professor sexual relations, and they had terrified him since they meant the death of any chance for academic advancement. He told people that Rupert was his parents' yardman and had limited intelligence. He was a charity case, not a gay lover.
He had a summer cottage in the mountains of North Carolina, and they had a gay life there. Back in Florida, they we eunuchs. They got along well, but a little variety was exciting. My studio provided much more than a little variety.
You might think it would be too much for the staid professor. I think that two much was exactly what he wanted. Maximilian had a long, thin cock and big balls. Rupert had a fat cock and monster balls. Max was mostly a top, so Rupert bottomed. As far as I could tell, he shot off five times in two hours. Each orgasm was ass filling.
Maximilian was lapsed Catholic, and he seemed to enjoy taking sperm from Salvatore and Jerome. I suspected that taking their sperm was an intimate form of communion, but I kept my mouth shut about that.
I went over to Rupert and introduced myself.
"This place is wild. Is it always like this?" he asked.
"This is where I work," I said. "I work fast, so I do have some spare time."
"Do all your models like it?" he asked.
"They do, but it's not a requirement," I said, "By the way, no one has sex to butter up the boss. I've always been open minded."
"I like to suck and fuck," he said. "Does that make me open minded?"
I laughed. "That is not exactly right, but it sure helps," I said.
He leaned close to me and whispered, "I don't get to top much. Are any of these guys bottoms? My cock is kind of big."
"They all bottom. Just asked nicely," I whispered back to him."
"By any chance does anyone take the load up the ass?" he asked.
"They have all taken a load, some are more enthusiastic than others," I replied. "I seem to be the most into it."
"I've never done that. I think I would like it," he said. Rupert bottomed for Maximilian.
Rupert was well over half hard. Five minutes later he was deep in my ass. Taking a new cock can be an adventure but he took his time. His cock seemed bigger in my ass than I had thought. You physically can't get any closer to a man than having his cock up your ass. Rupert was a lover, not a pounder. It was intimate.
"I don't think I can hold it back any longer," he moaned.
"You don't need to hold back," I said. "Relax and let nature take it course. You cock knows what to do." I sensed him getting less tense. He caressed my ass for ten minutes before he shot off. shooting off is a crude term for Rupert's orgasm. he bathed my ass with his man seed. It was more of a thank you gift than an orgasm. I could feel his passion. As far as I could tell, he shot off three times in an hour. Each orgasm was ass filling.
Maximillian and Rupert went home, and we went back to work. Several cocks were still dripping sperm, but the drips did not make it to the final sketch. It's safe to say the illustrations and the posing sessions were a complete success.
After working on painting for the cathedral, working on small scale illustrations was a joy. I could produce a drawing every few days and all was well. my friends and I all enjoyed it. Salvatore said if the Inferno was good, he was looking forward to Paradise.
Willy published his book about the victims. It was illustrated with the old photos and my small portraits. It was a success. His simple and direct prose was a meditation on the dead and on evil. Willy would not do any interviews on the book, because it would distract from the dead.
Willy and I were sincere about that, but if you wanted to become a media sensation, that was the way to do it. The phrase, "reclusive genius," was overused.
The publishing house of Maximilian's, Devine Comedy, used my drawing of Charon crossing the river Styx, in their advance publicity. No one guessed that Father Salvatore was the model for Charon. He was never seen in public not wearing clerical garb.
Maximillian was a happy camper. When you spend your entire life as an obscure academic translating a medieval poem, being recognized as a pleasant surprise wonderful. His work, illustrated with the image of a nude boatman, turned him into a star.
Strangely illustrating Dante masterpiece of Hell and Heaven was almost cheerful compared to the mural at the Cathedral. I laughed to myself that a little full-frontal nudity lifted my spirits. I also renewed my admiration for the secret gay telegraph.
The number of friends of friends of friends who wanted to pose nude and be immortalize in my illustrations of the Devine Comedy, was impressive. This included gay executives, trailer trash, strippers, teachers, and body builders.
I told them that I needed specific types for a particular canto. The canto on gluttony had a big response. It was never said, but the men knew a recent test report was needed in case they got lucky. Few got lucky at my studio, and but many made contact later after the modeling session.
One of the gluttons, Tiny, was the model for Satan's ass. Dante moved out of the deepest level of hell climbing out through the Devil's ass. Tiny was a cheerful big man, with an attractive ass. after the gluttony poses, one of the men there fucked him. When the guy shot off and pulled out, Tiny's ass stayed open. That was the image for the Devil's ass. I asked him if he was willing to pose for the asshole. I don't think Tiny had ever said no to any sexual activity.
The hole stayed open for little more than a minute. I was going to use a dildo to re-open it, but Tiny said he was allergic to rubber and plastic. He was fine with actual cock and genuine sperm. We had no problem finding men who were willing to stretch his ass wide. I had suspicions about Tiny's virginity. After the posing session he told me it was good.
Since most of the men shot off in him, there were sperm stalactites hanging in his open hole. Tiny died of a heart attack a year later, and his partner told me his experience as the Devil's ass was the high point of his life.
My models were a good group of men if you like horny men. They were affable and pleasant. I had expected they would be mostly barflies. That was not the case. The chance to pose for illustrations for the Devine Comedy had little appeal if you had never heard of the Devine Comedy.
The men tended to be academic and well educated. There was a tendency towards men of Italian backgrounds. Their educational system was more Dante oriented. They also tended to be uncut. I like Italian food especially when served from an erect cock.
One of the models, Carlo, invited me to a Son's of Italy meeting. Carlo was a well-hung older man who ran a funeral parlor. I thought this was a fraternal group, but it was a joke name for a gay party group.