Crestwood 6
by Bald Hairy Man
This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that DON'T read it. You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual. No effort to portray safe sex practices has been made. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com.
The Admiral and Bull joined in our conversation. Bull said he had a friend who had just gotten a new houseboy-playmate. "From what I could gather, you could get the house boy permanently, or for a weekend," Bull explained, "To put it mildly, I'm not into boys, or men who pretend to be boys, so I didn't get any details."
"Do you think it's our Henry," I asked.
"I don't know about that, but my friend mentioned the boy came from Richmond," Bull said. "It apparently is very private and exclusive."
"Where did your friend live?" I asked.
"In northern Virginia," Bull answered. "If you were hiring playmates, it would be good to use a Richmond supplier. They are sensitive to foreign sex slaves in D.C."
"Did your friend by any chance just buy a painting?" the Admiral asked.
"How in hell did you know that?" Bull exclaimed. "The conversation started when he told me he had bought a good painting at a bargain price. My friend is wealthy, but not as loaded as he's like to be. You know, three or four million."
"Did he say who the painter was?" I asked.
"I'm not into art much," Bull confessed. "It was some Italian name like pizzeria."
"Pissarro?" the Admiral suggested.
"That's it," Bull said. "You're really up on this sort of stuff."
"Purely a stab in the dark I assure you," the Admiral said. "My wife was into that sort of thing. Pissarro is a French Impressionist."
"Sounds Italian to me," Bull said.
"What's wrong with being Italian?" Tommy asked.
"Is Pissarro a big time painter?" I asked.
"I would say he was either one of the lesser first string painters, or the top of the second string," the Admiral replied
"We're not talking about a painter whose paintings go for a bargain price?"
"Not at all," he said. "It's hard to think anything short of a million would get a painting. Maybe a drawing or sketch would go for less. I'm interested in American nautical paintings. I have to satisfy myself with good works by lesser known painters and with primitives. My wife gave me a fine painting when I retired from the Navy. It set her back $70,000.00 and it took a lot of doing to find it. She had good connections in the art world and lots of friends. One of them saw it in an out-of-the-way gallery and gave her a call. No one comes by your house and says, "By the way, I've got a bargain Pissarro you might like."
"You'd find them in a big New Your or London auction house?"
"That's right," he said. "You'd be bidding against the Met and Japanese, or Arab billionaires. If you couldn't get a Renoir, or Monet, you'd be really happy with a Pissarro."
"Or a Cassatt, Remington , or Winslow Homer?"
"Actually, American paintings are very hot now," the Admiral said. "There are no bargains in the top tier of painters. You'd have to be crazy to think you could get a bargain."
"That's the scam, isn't it?" I observed. "You find a retirement community for the rich, then you wait for age and dementia to take it's toll."
"It's a vile scheme," the Admiral said in disgust. "Vile."
"And we have the prostitution enterprise too," I said, "It seemed as if Henry is involved in a handful of suspect enterprises. I think he may trade in underage boys."
"Boys aren't my thing," the Admiral said.
"Not mine either," I said. "I like my men full grown with some mileage. I hate breaking in a new model."
Tommy laughed. "Well if you like high mileage vehicles, you have hit the jackpot today."
"You mean you're not a virgin?" I asked.
He laughed, "Well you could say my warranty's expired. Don't worry, though, I've replaced the spark plugs."
I wondered if the party was winding down, but then discovered it had just started. The Admiral had failed to tell me it was a sleep over. Several men arrived in a Mercedes. They were retired Navy from Norfolk. Jimbo was a tall and impressive 65 year old man. Hid friend was Roger. They made a Mutt and Jeff like pair. Jimbo towered over Roger.
Both got naked in record time and joined into the festivities immediately. Jimbo was a cum hound. He loved man cream and sucking it from a cock. Roger was into asses. He topped. His cock was thin, longish and always hard. He tended to shove his cock into any available ass. Oddly, no one seemed to mind. He had an easy cock to take, and he was a rather jolly old man.
Jimbo almost magically appeared where ever there was cum. He preferred it fresh from the balls, but he didn't mind licking up the remains from your gut and chest. It may sound stupid, but his efforts kept things neat. Dried cum is hard to get off if your hairy, and most of us were. Kurt fixed a good dinner for us, and after wards I drifted off to the bed room to see what was up.
No one was in the bedroom, so I got on the bed and planned to have a little post dinner nap. I might have dozed off for a little, but the Admiral showed up. He got on the bed, beside me and reached over to play with my meat.
"Do you mind?" he asked.
"Shit no," I replied. "It's pretty rare when I'm not hot to trot."
"I've always been a man of action, but that didn't extend to sexual matters," he said. "It's hard for me to let my hair down, but I've been comfortable with you. You don't have many hangups, do you?"
"You noticed?"
The Admiral smiled. "I was shocked seeing you with Bull. I've known Bull for 25 years. He makes Bruce Willis and Conan the Barbarian look like girly men. I've never seen him let his guard down until you were up his ass. He's always been in control before."
"Have you ever admitted you like sex to yourself?" I asked. "Has it always been a guilty secret?"
"I loved my wife, but sex was just a part of that experience," he said. "For pure physical pleasure and excitement, Glenn was a revelation. What I think Bull was feeling is still well beyond my comprehension."
"Give it time," I said. "I saw a book titled something like My Best Orgasm. A majority of the men in the book said it was their first. They all must have been doing it wrong. It gets better the more you do it. You like men and you like sex with men. Admit that to yourself and see what happens. Bull and Tommy came in the bedroom. Nature took it's course.
On Monday Fire Marshall DeSoto got the results back from the labs. Liz and Mrs. Carlisle had both been drugged. Mrs. Carlisle had actually died from the overdose, not the fire. It's odd, but I felt better about that. To burn a person to death has always seemed to be more than murder to me. Liz had been perilously close to an over dose. There was one very interesting finding in the report. The drug used to put them to sleep wasn't pure. It had been adulterated.
"What does that mean?" I asked DeSoto.
"Adulterated drugs are rare in the US and Europe. Actually they are rare in the developed world in general. They're not that rare in Asia," he explained.
"Any chance they are home made?" I asked. "Like crystal meth labs?"
"Nope, this drug requires sophisticated, expensive equipment and materials," DesSoto said. "It's not a lab in the basement sort of thing."
"Is China the best bet?"
DeSoto nodded.
"Shit, it's hopeless to trace then," I said.
"It's not quite hopeless," he replied. "The Chinese government isn't happy about the adulterated drugs. It badly hurts their exports. We've turned over the lab reports to their Embassy. They will see what they can do. They admit is a outside chance, but if they do find it there may be a firing squad in the future for the bad guys. The Chinese aren't prone to be forgiving."
After the conversation with DeSoto, I called Elliot and Sedgwick and told them about my conversation with Rich. They were more than interested. All of their bloodhound like tenancies were excited.
I then met Gus who was investigating the Miller Galleries of Americana for me and told him about the Chinese "Old Masters". He asked if he could see the Crestwood Cassatt and the Remington. I called the Admiral to see what he could do. He called me back and said perhaps Gus could be a his nephew and visit for a while. He was planning a little memorial for Emily would be nice and he could visit residents for donations. A memorial garden would be nice,I think," he said. "Can this Gus person be a Landscape Architect by any chance? Bill Davis, our grounds man is a friend. He can help provide cover."
"By the time he arrives at your house he will be," I replied.
Gus was game. "My Mom is into roses," he said. "I've spent hours working with her and what seems like years listening to conversations on roses. If your Admiral wants a rose garden, I'm you man."
The Admiral was nothing if not organized. He went to see Jon about the possible garden. Jon liked the idea. The residents had been spooked by Emily's death and he wanted to channel that energy into something constructive. He asked Larry and Bill Davis to work with him. He wasn't too sure about a landscape architect, but those worries vanished when he found out the Admiral would pay for it.
The Admiral got a hint that Henry was on the outs with Jon. While outwardly Henry had been shocked by the death, Jon had overheard him joking about "frying the bitch" and "barbecued biddy". Henry had been talking with Tiffany Lewis and she found these comments amusing. Jon was disturbed. "Jon is clueless, but not bad," the Admiral concluded
Two days later Gus arrived and met the Admiral and Bill. The trio hit it off at first sight. Gus had a sketch for a small rose garden, labeled "A Garden to Celebrate the Life of Emily Carlisle." It was pretty and well thought out. Gus' mother provided the names of low maintenance roses, and even put a thorn less rose, the Zpherine Drouhan, at the entrances. It was very convincing.
"This looks real," I said.
"It is," Gus replied. "It's safer to have something real than to rely on bullshit." Gus and the Admiral went off to visit residents to see if they might be interested in donating to the memorial. The day was a success.
There was golf tournament at Crestwood that day. Glenn and Larry had to stay until after the awards banquet, so I had to stay late. I went to the Admiral's house at five. They had visited ten houses. They saw the Cassatt and found one other suspect painting. John Dell, an 88-year-old former stockbroker, had a Ned Wyeth in his entry hall.
"The paintings are cleverly done," Gus said. "The colors are right and the subject matter is perfect. The brush stokes are off, but a layperson wouldn't notice that. I think they cut and pasted some figures from Wyeth illustrations and then used that as the basis for the new Wyeth. There was one major error, the painting was too small. Wyeth's paintings were over sized. John thought it was an unused illustration from Treasure Island. By the way, I think they may have used old canvas."
"Old Canvas?"
"You find it in back rooms of shops and tucked away in attics," Gus said. "The paintings were just dirty enough to back up the story. The Wyeth had a label for the Brandywine Book Store, established 1897 in the frame. I think it was real. John told us a story of finding it in an attic in Wilmington."
"How much did he pay for it?"
"$15,000.00," the Admiral said, "John whispered to me it had a little problem with provenance. It was found in the attic of a house that was being demolished, so it might not be 100% legal. It's a good line of bull."
Gus and the Admiral were polite when they met in the morning. By five they were an Uncle and his favorite nephew. I could tell they hit it off well. Once and a while there was a glint in the Admiral's eye indicating more was involved. Gus wasn't particularly tall, but he was brawny. As a sculptor in stone, he had to be muscular. He was wearing a dress shirt and a tie, but they didn't hide the body beneath. He had huge, hairy hands and with his Greek coloring he would be a good Ajax or Achilles.
I knew little about his personal life, but recalled he had been partnered and something had had happened. I had been away on assignment when it happened and by the time I got back it was old news. Gus wasn't a full time employee of Catfish & Company. We called him when we needed his skills. I knew Gus was gay, but I had no personal experience with him.
Bill Davis and Glenn came over at six for dinner. The Admiral was a good cook, but it turned out Gus was a great cook. Apparently his father had owned a restaurant and he could slice and dice like madman. We made a cheerful and compatible group. The mutual sexual attraction did nothing to reduce the good mood. The wine didn't hurt either. The banquet was over at 8:30 and we were really happy by then. Larry came by and joined us for after dinner drinks.
Larry had been seated at table next to Henry and Tiffany. They were seated with several older ladies, most of whom were deaf or partially deaf. As was their wont, they were all sweetness and kindness until the ladies left the table when they reverted to type. "It was a real Dr, Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation," Larry said. "They had a few cocktails before and wine with dinner and they assumed most of the room was deaf."
"They were right about that," Glenn said. "They didn't notice you?"
"I'm an intern," Larry said. "I don't count in their book. I think the booze made them indiscreet. They had an extended joke about old cows that needed to be milked. Henry said he'd do the cows, Tiffany could milk the bulls. Tiffany laughed at that and said Henry had more practice at milking bulls than she did. Then they went into a discussion of sale's prospects."
"Did you overhear that part?" I asked.
"I got got a few names," Larry said. He paused. "Can you tell what's going on? I thought there was something odd going on here. The way Henry and Tiffany were talking sounds like a scam is a foot. A friend of mine who works at the State Lab told me to watch my ass. The only thing that could possibly mean is something's wrong with Mrs. Carlisle's death."
I told him and the rest of the group the full story. There was a slight chance Glen or Bill were involved, but the cat was already out of the bag. I didn't need to worry. Bill had seen the car from the art gallery at several other houses and had wondered what was up. The Admiral took notes of the names and said he would visit them the next day. We combined the houses Bill had noted with the persons mentioned by Henry and Tiffany. I asked Glenn if these persons were suffering form early forms of dementia.
He told us he couldn't ethically reveal medical records. "I could tell you if a resident is healthy I guess," Glenn offered. "You might be able to jump to a conclusion if you want from that information."
That worked for us. An hour or so later we had a list of seven residents we hadn't known about. It was late and the Admiral was a good host. We went through a lot of booze. I wasn't flat out drunk, but I was borderline.
"I'm afraid none of you boys are in any condition to drive home. I think you should stay here," the Admiral announced. "I've got an extra bedroom and there's a couch in the den, if you don't mind sharing." It was late and no one was opposed spending the night. After some confusion, the Admiral and Gus took the bed in the guest room. The rest of us shared the king sized bed in the master bedroom. Actually Bill was going to sleep on a couch, until we all shared a shower.
We didn't start sharing the shower. I stripped to take a shower and Larry asked if I would like some company. I said sure. Glenn and Bill came in the room and saw us. Larry is young. When he dropped is pants, he was at half staff. I was feeling a bit randy too, and I had firmed up. Glenn took this in stride, but Bill's jaw dropped. He looked like a six year old who just saw what Santa had left under the tree.
"We're going to take a shower," Larry said.
"Is there any extra room?" Glenn asked.
"I don't know. It may be a little snug, but we can work something out, I'm sure," Larry answered. He put his arm around my shoulders and stroked his cock with his other hand. As I said before, Larry wasn't shy. Bill glanced at Glenn who was already half naked. I didn't know a man could strip as quickly as Bill.
Bill was handsome in a Marlboro man way. His equipment was average, the the whole package was a knock out. Bill was torn between looking at Larry, who also was handsome, and at my cock. We wedged ourselves in the shower and all got wet and soapy.
It was tight, but just right. There was a little room to move, but you couldn't move with out genital contact. In some situations like this guys pretend they didn't notice everyone was hard. This wasn't one of those. Larry got to his knees and sucked the three of us. I was in the middle. Bill and Glenn had their arms around me and we were kissing. Our cock heads were touching, so Larry could lick the precum drooling from our slits with one swipe of his tongue. He gripped Bill and Glenn's balls, so he could pull them closer if they strayed.
When Larry came up for air, Bill dropped to his knees and started sucking. Bill wanted to inhale the cock and balls. Glenn was in the middle now, so Bill grasped my ball sack with his left hand and Larry's with his right. Larry had been interested in precum, so he had concentrated on the cock heads in general and the slits in particular. Bill liked the shafts too and the balls. He treated Larry and my cocks like a harmonica. I don't know what tune he was playing, but it was good.
I took Bill's place next. Since I am short I concentrated on the tender underside of the cock heads. I decided to up the ante a little. I grabbed Bill and Glenn's balls to steady my self, but then decided I would hook a finger in their ass and hunt for their prostates. I guessed Glenn would be fine with this. I had no idea if Bill would like it.
I concentrated on Glenn's knob as I slipped a finger toward his hole. He jumped a little then relaxed. After playing with the hole a second or two, I popped a finger through the sphincter, Glenn jumped a little then oozed a big glob of precum. Glen was fine. I turned my attention to Bill's organ. He was drooling 100% Marlboro Man cock juice. He was making out with Glenn and Larry and was really excited. His ass hole twitched when I touched it and he moaned. His sphincter caressed my finger when it made contact. I got a second finger at his hole the worked both of into his ass hunting for his prostate.
I worked a second finger into Glenn's ass, then added a third to Bill's. Some people have one traced minds, other can multi task. I am the later. With my lefty had up Glenn's ass and my right had up Bill's, I was still able to suck the three cocks and enjoy the banquet of ball juices. I found the prostates easily enough and gave them a finger massage.
"Hey, we're getting too close," Larry said. "Let's get on the bed and have some real sex." Everyone was ready. We were rolling around on the bed when the Admiral dropped in.
"I thought you might need this," he said as he dropped off two tubes of lubricant and a bottle of Jungle Juice.
"Did you save some for yourself?" I asked. He just smiled and went to the guest room and to Gus. I later found out the Admiral's ass was no longer virgin the next morning, and the Gus got fucked for the first time since he partner had died. It was a good night for both.
Larry's cock found a home away from home up Glenn's ass. Glenn was tight, but willing and it took a while, but was worth the effort. Technically you could say I fucked Bill, but that wouldn't be correct. My cock occupied his ass and then I gently massaged his rectum with it. He was tight and stretched wide open, but there was no resistance. As I slowly pumped, his ass lining got sensitive. He he got more responsive. I barely needed to move and he'd shiver. If I did a deep stroke, he's moan and gasp for air.
On one of the deep strokes, he shot off and promptly fell asleep. Larry was deep fucking Glenn pile driver style. Glenn popped and crashed. Larry and I were alone with two sleeping men. We were back to back in the middle of the bed. Larry rolled over and eased his well lubricated cock into my ass He put his arm around me and we fell asleep.