Catfish does Shakespeare 4
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.
I'm not sure I've ever fucked a guy as grief therapy, but that comes close to what I did for Skyler. In some ways he was taking my cock for Maurice. Skyler was normally a bottom, but he wanted to feel what Maurice felt. The costume designer was ill at ease when I first entered his ass, but after five minutes he relaxed and after ten he surrendered and let my cock work its magic. He was doing a good imitation of a bottom pig by the time I shot off.
"Breed me!" he whined and whimpered. Breed him I did. I almost expected to see some of my cock juices spurting from his ears I shot so much. He climaxed too, so we were stuck together with his cum as glue. I collapsed on him in post orgasm exhaustion. My cock was still in his ass and Skyler was nice enough to squeeze his sphincter to get the last drops from my balls. This was enough to inspire a few more ejaculations.
I showered and went home. The next day I got flowers delivered to my apartment with a note that said thank you. I knew where they came from. That morning I also got a visit from Detective Dean Willard of the Richmond police. He was new to the force, and I hadn't met him before.
"Are you the guy they call the Redneck Sherlock Holmes?" he asked.
"Well, they certainly have the Redneck part right."
He laughed. "One of my men said you were hanging around the Midsummer Night's Dream set. Can I ask you why? He didn't think it was because you felt a need to express your artistic nature."
"I'll tell you all, but I prefer to trade information. Do you have anything worrying you about Maurice's death?"
"Bruises on his neck," Willard said, "Not at all consistent with a fall."
I told him the whole story. It was clear after I finished recounting the story. Willard was going to be helpful. He had withheld the autopsy report to give him time to investigate. He didn't want news of the murder to leak out prematurely.
"The Richmond Police have no ability to go undercover in a theater troop," Dean said. "We're good on drug dealers, but no one can mix with artistic types. I don't know how you got in that group?"
"I'm a flexible guy," I said. "It helps that I'm hung like a horse and open minded. Let me guess, you were a linebacker in college, then the Marine Corp, and a degree in law enforcement?"
"I was a Navy Seal," Dean said. He was built and in good shape, Dean had a flat top, that concealed a bald spot and a bristly mustache. With blue eyes and a good tan, the bull like man was impressive. He was born to be a police man. When I mentioned hung like a horse to took a quick glance at my basket. I was wearing old jeans and the wear makes told all.
"You don't think I'd make a good undercover officer?" he asked. Dean smiled. "I take it the less under covered you are the more popular you become?"
I laughed. "If you saw my costume for the play you would know all!" After that interlude we got down to business. He would increase foot patrols in the area of the theater and would check up in police records the backgrounds of the people involved. I would keep him aware of any new developments.
The rest of the day was spent in rehearsals. Charlie was a stickler for pronunciation and natural speech. He and the voice person worked with the actors on being intelligible. I had been use to my High School Shakespeare as a sing-song like recitation. We had done Julius Caesar and Macbeth. The stories were good, but the play itself was partially unintelligible to me. This was very different. The three groups, the courtiers, the fairies and the rustics would each have a 45 minutes session with the voice coach and then practice while the next group met with the voice coach.
I know rehearsals are supposed to be boring, but I thought they were interesting. I helped that Freddy was there. He knew Shakespeare forwards and backwards and was a one man Cliff notes. He was particularly good about the off color, or borderline obscene references. "They were to appeal to the common man," he explained.
"Well they appeal to me too," I said.
"As far as I can tell they appealed to everyone," Freddy said. "I'm pretty sure Queen Elizabeth laughed as hard as anyone else. I suspect the "appeal to the common man" was a Victorian interpretation intended to appeal to that ages fear of sex. Dr. Bowdler revised the plays to hide the "dirty" parts. He also took the sex out of the Bible, but I've never been sure anyone used the Bible as a sex manual."
The courtiers were having the most problems, so we had the next day off so Charlie couls spend the entire day working with them. I got a call from Bobby Wilmot. He had located Tony Deluka, the director of the ill fated Hamlet and Gustav Schmidt and was going to have them over for drinks after a special benefit matinée performance of Guys & Dolls. The benefit was sponsored by the First Lady of Virginia's favorite charity so the Governor and First lady were there. I was invited to the party afterward.
The party was posh event. There was a series of post show cocktail parties where the charity would ask for additional contributions. I was looking pretty shaggy since I was growing out my beard for the play, but I put my good suit on and was presentable. I was introduced to the guests as the man presenting wall in the Midsummer's Night's Dream. That caused considerable merriment.
I met Gustav Schmidt at the door. He was wearing a silk jacket and an ascot. I got the impression he was doing an imitation of a 1930's era director. He had a slight English accent, but it was obviously a stage accent, otherwise he was normal. He didn't strike me as a leader of men.
He asked me about the play. We talked for a while and he seemed to be genuinely interested and friendly. He told me he missed acting and the theater. He had a bad spell a few years earlier and had burned his bridges.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I don't know if you can suffer from temporary paranoia, but I had it. Several things happened all at once and I came to some bad conclusions," he said.
"How are things now?" I asked.
"Good. I'm working in a job I like and things have straightened out. Re married too," he said.
"It's hard to rebuild the bridges?"
Gustave nodded. Wilmot came over to me with a friend he wanted me to meet. A little later I met Tony Deluka. Short and stocky, he looked more like a longshoreman than a director. He was from Jersey and you could tell. He had several followers with him. He seemed to move with an entourage. The girls had an adoring look I found unsettling. One of the boys with him had the same look.
Twenty year olds can be so self absorbed they don't notice the obvious. Tony must have liked the worship and didn't mind any damage it might cause when they discovered he had no interest in them. I know a user when I see one.
After a while I realized he was playing a role. He was trying for Marlon Brando. He liked to play the macho type. He was freely dropping names and insults. It was clear he was not a forgive and forget man. He was an energetic and engaging man, if you didn't notice the undertones. Tony was particularly nasty about the newspapers theater critic, Milton Hammerly. Milton was talking to some people well within hearing distance.
The two men seemed to generate an aura of ill feeling. The rest of he party was cheerful and pleasant, but a cloud hung over them. Wilmot was the perfect host and he separated the waring parties. "Tony, you need to meet Sally White. She's new to town and wants to meet the local luminaries," he said as he steered Tony to the other side of the room.
"No one knows him. They can't appreciate him. He's too talented for Richmond," one of Tony's young woman said.
"I've got that problem too," I said with a smile.
"You're in the theater?" she asked, obviously skeptical.
"I'm playing the wall in Midsummer's Night's Dream," I said. The girl looked puzzled.
"Shakespeare?"
"Oh, I don't do old fashioned plays," she said. "Most of my work has been in experimental theater."
"I was born to play the wall," I said.
"Tony's a real man," she said, returning to her original theme. "There are so many fags in the theater. Tony says it takes a man to play a man."
"What does it take to play a wall?"
"I don't know, but you're too ugly to be a fag," she said. "Has anyone ever told you you sound like Sam Elliot."
"Not recently. Is he from Southside Virginia?" I asked. The girl didn't have a sense of humor. She went off to see a friend. I assume she was going talk about experimental theater. The girl was pretentious, clueless and totally unaware. She was the perfect person to be taken in by a man like Tony.
I talked with one of Tony's boys next. Rufus was 23 and much like the girl. He wanted a hero and a mentor. He also thought he was straight. After a few minutes of conversation I suspected other wise. He had heard of Shakespeare and was interested in the play. I explained the handsome courtiers, dwarf fairies and hairy, rude mechanicals scheme. That made sense to him. I described the costumes.
"You're hairy?" Rufus asked. I nodded. "I'm kind of hairy too. My friends say it's gross."
"You need better friends," I said. "We all get the cards we're dealt."
"Well, I'm really hairy," Rufus said as he leaned close to me. We talked for a while and drank quite a bit. I was sitting on chair when a waiter tripped and covered me with Shrimp and cocktail sauce. Some splattered on Rufus. The waiter was apologetic, but I had to get the stuff out of my hair. I had a feeling horseradish would be hard on my eyes if it dripped into them.
"Come by for a night cap," I said. "I only live a block away. You can clean up there if you want." Rufus was willing. We went in the side door of my apartment. I live above my offices. Rufus didn't know I was a detective.
Rufus liked my apartment. As soon as we got in I offered him a beer. Then we went to the shower to strip and shower. He joined me. My shower is all ornamental ceramic tile featuring tropical plants and parrots in brilliant colors. It looks like a Hollywood stars dream bath. Rufus loved it. It told him about the tile man who owned the building and was stuck with the tile when a client didn't want it.
Rufus seemed like a nice kid, but he had what they call body issues on the TV programs. He was tall, thin and hairy. He thought he looked like a scrawny, hairy scarecrow. I pointed out that half the guys in the country would love to be as slim as he. He thought he was hairy, but when he saw me he realized there were much hairier men in the world. I told him I associated being hairy with being masculine.
"The hair isn't the only masculine thing about you," Rufus said as he looked at my cock.
I smiled. "You're nicely equipped yourself," I said. "You're a couple notches above standard issue."
"What is standard issue?" he asked. "I've never known."
"I think six inches hard is the usual rule of thumb. Soft it can be just about anything."
"What are you?" he asked.
"Somewhere between 9.5" and 10.5" depending on inspiration," I said. "Guys tell me it's the diameter that is impressive."
"Guys?" Rufus asked.
"100% men," I said, "They seem to appreciate it."
"Oh," he said. His cock began to firm up. He wanted to be matter of fact about my sexual inclinations, but his cock had another idea. He looked down and saw he was getting hard.
"Sorry about that," he said. "I didn't mean to get hard." He was silent for a little while. "Yours is big now. It must be huge when it's hard?"
"I hate to get it cocked and ready with no where to shoot it," I said. "You've been drinking. I don't mind getting it up and having some fun, but I don't like solo performances. Are you into it? Are you into cock play?"
"I don't know," he said. Rufus looked at his cock again. He was fully erect. "My cock has a decided preference. I think I drank a little too much to get my nerve up."
I smiled. Rufus finally let his cock do his thinking for him. He came over to me and cupped my balls in his hand. I stroked his cock then dropped to my knees an sucked him. His cock twitched and I got a glob of cum in my mouth.
"Calm down," I said, "Hold back." Remarkably he held back. The next time I licked his knob pre cum oozed from it. All was well. Being in the shower was good for someone who's trying out man sex for the first time. It was clean and sanitary. When I got up to take a breath, he went down to sample my cock. That was a successful experiment. We dried off and went to my bed.
Rufus was a quick learner and soon became enthusiastic. I'm afraid his straight days ended the first time his mouth came in contact with another man's cock. Some guys think of my cock as a curiosity. They like to see it and perhaps use it, but that is all. Others are all but transfixed by it. They love it. Rufus was clearly in the later camp.
He made the virgin to cock hound transition in record time. Fortunately I found out it was purely a sexual attraction. He loved it, not me. I wasn't his type. Wild sex is easy to deal with, puppy love is much harder. Rufus was dealing with a sexual storm of emotion. That was good for him and for me.
Eventually I sat on his cock. I didn't want to fuck him the first night. That would be too much. He was a solid and thick seven and it was good for me, but great for him. He played with my cock while I did a little dance on his meat.
Once his cock was deep in my, Rufus wanted to talk. He was attracted to Tony but had noticed some unattractive things about him. Tone attracted followers, but he didn't seem to remain on good terms with them for long. Tony now was teaching at a large high school and there had been some sort of a problem with a girl. "Tony said the girl had fantasies, but it was nasty," Rufus said. "She thought she was star material, but he sent a bad recommendation for a college. It kept her from getting into the school she wanted."
"Those things are confidential, aren't they?"
"Yes, but one of his former student betrayed him," Rufus said. "He says a man as talented as he is makes enemies. He says he'll get the guy who screwed him."
"I think I know some talented men who have lots of friends," I remarked. Rufus was not to happy about that comment, so I wiggled my hips and he forgot as my warm ass caressed his bloated cock.
"I don't believe this is happening to me," he moaned.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Shit no!" he cried. I had guessed that.
"Is this your first time?" I asked.
"Yes. I don't think I knew you could do this stuff. I thought sex would be good, but not this good."
"It's bad policy to let the little brain in your cock do you thinking for you all the time, but once and a while you have to let go. That little brain in your cock head has it place. Some men can't relax enough to enjoy sex. You're lucky. You can relax and let your cock be your guide. It opens up a world of pleasure."
"I can't hold off much longer," Rufus said.
"You don't need to. Just relax and let nature take it's course. I'm close too."
We made it another five minutes. I was afraid Rufus would get dehydrated by the time he finished shooting. I think I had 23 years of repressed boy cum in my ass. It felt good.