Catfish Goes to School
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
My mother went to nursing school; Aunt Sarah went to a teachers college and taught school for forty years. Most of the time was at an upscale prep school, St Cecelia's Academy in Randall, Virginia. It sat next to a boy's school, St. Thomas' Academy for the Rich. I added the for rich by myself. It was where you send brats to grow up.
While my Aunt was teaching the schools had several good headmasters and head mistresses who transformed the schools. Aunt Sarah claimed if the children were at the school they might as well do something with them, and both schools became quite distinguished.
I always was shocked when I visited Aunt Sarah's house at Christmas. There must have been hundreds of cards and letters from her students. I think she must have been the caring mother they never had.
She gave me a call and asked me to come and see her about a "problem". Aunt Sarah solved problems; she didn't have them. I went to see her the next day.
"Catfish, thank you for coming so quickly. I talked with your mother and she told me you were the man for this job. You know I taught at St. Cecelia's years before I returned home and taught school here?"
"As I recall you came home, substituted for a teacher and stayed for twelve years?"
"She smiled. "Well, they needed an English teacher here so badly," She said. "I keep up with St. Cecelia's. The Headmistress was one of my students. There are problems there. Whispers of sexual impropriety. There is nothing official yet, but a school's reputation can be ruined by whispers as well as by a headline."
"The suggestions is that Eleanor' husband is molesting the girls," Sarah said. "Frank is a good man, a good husband and a good father. Years ago Eleanor had a bad relationship. She was engaged and got pregnant. Her fiancée vanished and Frank stepped up to the plate. They had been close friends and he saved the day. No one knows this of course."
"It turned out Frank's sexual tastes are the same as yours. There is no chance he has a problem with the girls, or the boys either. As I said, his tastes are the same as yours."
Luckily I have a good poker face. No one had ever mentioned my sexual orientation before. I assumed they knew; they were too smart to believe I was waiting for the right woman. I was shocked. Sarah was matter of fact about the statements. She wasn't shocked or uneasy.
"I need to have someone to look into this discretely, quietly and without any fuss. Eleanor thinks there is something going on that is sordid and possibly very destructive to the school as well as her career," Sarah said. "Your mother told me she guesses sordid was your strong suit."
"Is Eleanor more worried about her career of the school?" I asked.
"Eleanor could retire anytime she wished. The school is her concern."
"Is there anything else?"
"Frank has a close friend, the headmaster of St. Thomas's."
"Colonel Wilda-beast?"
"The same, I think he prefers Wildhurst," Sarah said with a smile. "I know he strikes people as an over the top army man, but he is good with the boys and has done wonders with the school. Academically, that is. You can see his relationship with Frank could be problematic. Oh, here have been some fires too. They were small fires, but fires."
"Warning fires?"
"That could be," Sarah replied. "They need someone at the school watching. There is an opening for a job in the Janitorial department, and there the room above the president's carriage house. It has a panoramic view of the entire school. I will pay you of course."
"That isn't necessary," I said. "We're family."
"Your aunt Edna left me a wealthy woman. I'm 85 and can't find a way to spend it in the years I have left. I want full professional services, no favors, no shortcuts," Sarah said. "I helped turn that school from being an embarrassment into a fine establishment of quality education. I don't want to see it destroyed."
A week later I was the new Janitor at St. Cecelia's in Randall, Virginia. I trimmed my beard to a semi-redneck length. I wanted to look redneck, not trailer trash. Mrs. Putney, the headmistress was a handsome woman, very professional. She told me I could call her Eleanor, but I told her I preferred to stay in character all the time. Her husband was away on a business trip.
My apartment was small but had a deck with a great view. The apartment had been used as a guest house for the school, but they had a new one which didn't have stairs. Many of the guests were older. They had a Monday chapel and Eleanor introduced me and asked me to say a few words.
"I'm Willy and I'm here to clean and fix things. I am the guy who is on call 24-7 since I live above Mr. and Mrs. Putney's garage. I know that stuff happens, but I like to clean up fresh messes. When I say fresh, I mean not dried and hardened. Get me to clean it up as soon as it happens. If there's a leak, tell me. Let me know before it floods out the basement please." I sat down. There was laughter.
The second day I was there two girls and a bout of food poisoning, courtesy of something they found in the refrigerator. They had the runs and projectile vomiting in their room and the floor's bathroom. The next morning everything was spic and span. I got it cleaned, disinfected and spotless. I got points for that. I also got points for dealing with improperly disposed of tampons.
Somehow, in a few days I was known as the Abominable Janitor, and the name stuck. The school didn't have any real security. Mr. Denny Dugan was the official security, but he was 67 or so and semi blind. My apartment didn't have a television so I walked around a lot and got the lay of the land.
I found a peeping Tom my second night there. He was a 15 year old boy from St. Thomas's. I scared him half to death, so he never came back. St Thomas's was a block away so there was a constant flow of students bettering the schools in the evening.
I found a trash can fire and the third day while I was walking around. It was easy to put out, but I smelled accelerant. That was a bad sign. Dropping a match into a trash can is one thing, but adding a flammable fluid is another tier of intensity.
As a Janitor I tended to fade into the walls, but several people stood out. The Latin Language teacher Mrs. Goode was a bitch. She took one look at me and needed to know no more. She complained to Mrs. Putney there was a strange man hanging around. Mrs. Putney told him she had introduced me at the Chapel. Goode said she hadn't noticed. The Art teacher was a young male twink, who looked at me as if I were infectious. Everyone else seemed fine.
I had my office staff back in Richmond looking into the backgrounds of the staff. The school made it a point to do background checks, but we had other places to look.
In my spare time I did some safety pruning. I like to prune anyway, but I am continually amazed people plant bushes and trees in prime mugger locations. I like to limb up trees so there is no place to hide. Mrs. Goode hated this. She thought trees and bushes should be natural. It was obvious she wasn't a gardener.
Some of the girls noticed I was a man, but for a good many of them I was a piece of furniture, and they hardly noticed I was there. That was good for me. I found a particularly unpleasant gaggle of girls who like talk outside the rear door of the library. They were, in their own opinions, the elite group with wealthy, well connected parents and money to burn. Several girls were at the school on scholarship. They seemed to think these girls were stupid for not having wealthy folks. There were two plain girls they despised; they should have been born pretty. They looked down on the several girls they thought were artistic or were brains. Being artistic or intelligent seems to be problematic.
They were trying to get a stud from St. Thomas's to make a date with one of the plain girls, so he could not show and humiliate the girl. The leader of the group was Deedee Hamilton. She seemed to be over the top in her own self assurance had no sense of moderation at all. I would keep an eye on her.
The librarian, Miss Smith, came out and shooed the girls away. She looked at my work. "You had an eye for pruning," she said.
"These are good trees but out of control," I said.
"They aren't the only thing out of control here," she remarked.
"I feel sorry for anyone who dates one of those girls," I said. "A few were what my Mom would have called a real piece of work."
"Have you worked at a girls' school before?"
"Nope, but I've been around," I said.
"Well. You look like you've been around and been run over a few times," she said. Then she looked horror stricken. "My lord. I don't believe I said that. Forgive me, I just blurted it out! I don't know what got into me."
I laughed. "I've come to think I'm not everyone's idea of a dream boat," I said. "Usually people say I'm different looking or interesting."
"I am so sorry!" she repeated.
"I take it girl's schools are prone to cliques?"
"That is an understatement. Some are just girls who get along well. They are fine. Some girls have a need to dominate or manipulate. They are problematic."
"How many of these girls are Daddy's little princesses?" I asked.
"Usually they are an uninvolved daddy's little princesses. Daddy sends them presents and on trips to resorts in place of paying attention to them in person. They express love in dollars. The more dollars the more love."
"There are few men here," I said. "Are they bitter about that?"
"Well, Mr. Putney has a problem. He is handsome and fatherly, but is never more than polite," Miss Smith said. "Some fantasize about him. Mr. Siegfried, the chemistry teacher and Mr. Lewis the head of the English Department. Lewis is a poet. That makes it worse."
"They are careful men?"
"Oh yes, they have to be careful." Miss Smith said. "Gossip is the problem here. Almost any comment can be greatly inflated into a deep expression of love. You need to be careful."
"I'm a card carrying member of another union," I said. "That and my natural good looks should keep me safe." She looked puzzled then understood. She smiled. By the way, I put out a little fire in a trash can yesterday. Have you noticed anything like that?"
"No, but I will keep my eyes open," she said.
That night I walked four blocks from the school to downtown Randall for dinner. I tried out small hole in the wall restaurant and discovered the owner was Greek and a good cook. I asked the Chef, Ajax, if he served and Greek dishes and the man almost cried in joy. I had a spectacular dinner of Souvlaki. I think he may have shared his own dinner.
Walking back to the school I saw a car filled with men talked to a single woman on the street. My instincts told me this wasn't right. The woman looked uneasy. I walked over.
"If you men are lost I can tell you where to go!" I bellowed. I had a deep voice and in the dim light they couldn't see me clearly. They took off. The woman looked at me with relief and then looked uneasy. I am not your dream rescuer.
The cook from the restaurant heard me yell and came out with a rolling pin. "Mrs. Elliot was there a problem?" he asked as he ran over.
"I hope those men weren't friends of yours, ma'am. I had an odd feeling about them," I said.
"Not at all, they wanted me to get in the car with them," she said. She looked faint.
"Come to the restaurant," the chef said. "I'll call the police."
"You don't need to do that," Mrs. Elliot said.
"We sure as hell do need to call the police," I said. The chef made him a cup of coffee, and I called the cops. They were there in a minute or too. I described the incident, the car, and I had managed to get a partial plate number. I told the cop, Patrolman Calhoun, I was a janitor at the school and was in the headmistress' garage apartment. He took Mrs. Elliot home and said he would come over to get a statement the next day.
I went to my apartment and had just gotten out of the shower when someone knocked on my door. It was Calhoun. I let him in. I was wearing a towel. "The chief want I to get your statement know. Mrs. Elliot is a friend of his. This is the first time this has happened in this area as far as he knows."
Calhoun was a tall, young man with an ineffectual mustache and a good attitude. I had the feeling this was the closest to a real crime he had encountered. I confirmed the information I gave him before and filled in some details.
"You have a good memory mister," he said. "It was a ford Taurus, 2000 year?"
"I think they changed the tail light that year," I said. He called in the information. The chief told him to go home. He had been off duty when the call came in so his was putting in over time.
"Budget problems in the town government?" I asked.
"You got it. Shit, for a real crime I'd do it for free, but the town manager is a bean counter and he would be pissed."
"Would you like a cup of coffee or a beer?"
Calhoun looked uncertain. "I guess if I'm off duty a beer might be nice. I don't think I need anything to keep awake."
We talked and had several beers. He was 23, this was his first job. I was still wearing a towel and caught him looking at my chest and crotch a few times. "I thought I was a hairy guy, but you take the cake," he said. "I was a wrestler at school. The girls said it was gross." I think he had been much heavier at one time and he had what they call body issues.
"It makes you look more masculine," I said. "I don't much worry about what girls say anyway." Calhoun looked at me and understood. I got him another beer and when I gave it to him my towel slipped.
"Jesus is that thing real?" he exclaimed. I smiled and sat down naked.
"We all have one, don't we?"
"I thought I had a good one, but it's half sized," he said. "Sorry for staring at it. I'm not a gay guy, but it's spectacular"
"I don't mind. You aren't the first to stare," I said. "It wouldn't be a problem if you were a gay guy either." He just stared at my cock.
"Why don't you get comfortable and let's see what happens," I said.
"I've never done anything like this," he whispered. He began to take off his shirt. A few seconds later he was on his knees and my cock was in his mouth. Maybe he's never done it before, but he sure liked it from the start. He later told me he had messed around with some pals, but never done it with a grown man.
It's fair to say he was ripe and ready to go. I know enough about men to realize that my cock gets more attractive as it enlarges. He wasn't an expert cock sucker, but he was good, good enough to get my juices going. Once they got flowing, he started licking my slit. He seemed to like my ball juices.
Calhoun was a big man with the remains of baby fat on a big frame. He was hairy for a 23-year -old and would be a gorilla by the time he was forty. He cock was smaller than mine, but more than respectable. It was a thick seven incher. His uncut knob was a prize winner. I got on the floor and we sixty-nined. He liked that a lot.
He was oozing big time too. I liked his special sauce, but had to pull off a few times. He was excited and on the edge. I wanted to get some good play time in before he popped his nut. He was afraid I didn't like what he was doing when I pulled off, so I had to do some explaining. The next time I sucked him I misjudged and got a mouthful of his man seed.
Once the ejaculations stopped he was apologetic for having fed me. I told him I was fine with that. He also wanted to go home. I asked him if he could wait a few minutes. He told me he was worried about that he would have to take my sperm. "I've never done that."
I told him it wasn't necessary and not to worry. We talked and he relaxed. He told me he had messed around some, but it was nothing like this. "I loved it. I'm not a fag, but I love it," he said.
"Do you think I'm a fag?" I asked.
"No," he replied.
"Do you know you can be all man and like to suck cock?" I asked. "Somehow, I feel more masculine when I'm having sex with a man. I know that some say one of you should be butch and the other fem, but that not the way it works with me."
He got hard again as we talked and I lubricated his cock. He thought it was for a jack off session. I surprised him by sitting on it. It was a pleasant surprise for him and me. It was a near perfect fit. His knob bonded with my rectum. I'm not sure Calhoun knew enough about man sex to know, but it was great for me. I'm not a virgin, but Calhoun was virgin enough for two. He had never fucked a man or a woman before and he was in heaven. I did a little dance on his cock and moaned in appreciation. He shot off in my ass.
"I've never shot off before without a manual assist," he said.
"I think I could teach you a lot of things you can do with a cock you may not have done yet," I said. "All of them are just as good." I got off him when his cock finally stopped twitching. I looked out the window and saw something that looked like a flash, followed by a red flickering in a school window.
"Shit, there's a fire!" I cried.
I called 911 and reported a fire. Calhoun and I drove over to explore. There was a fire in a studio in the art building. I knew enough about art to know the typical studio was filled with flammables. Mrs. Putney and her husband came over. The fire chief had called her, and as soon as you could hear the sirens, most of the students were soon out of the dorms. I noticed one of the girls I listen to at the library was the first to arrive.
The art teacher came in a state. "The room has all the end of the semester portfolios are in there!" he said, "Help me save them! They will be ruined." He ran into the building.
"What an idiot!" I cried and went in after him. My plan was to stop him from going into the burning room before he got caught up in the fire. He was faster than I thought. Fortunately the ceiling was high. He had opened a window and was tossing cardboard portfolios out the window. Several girls caught them and took them to safety. The fire spread, I told him to jump. He was afraid to jump, so I threw him out the window. I was ready to jump when the room exploded. If you can't be smart, good luck is a good thing.
The explosion blew me twenty feet onto the lawn. I was fine, singed, but not even cut by the window glass. The art teacher was alive too. I was going to tell him he was an asshole for even considering going into the burning building, but since I had gone in too, and we were both alive, I decided to keep my asshole comments to myself.
The local volunteer fire department arrived quickly and got the fire under control in a few minutes. They were good. It would have been better if they got there faster, but that is the problem with volunteer fire departments. I noticed the several of the volunteers were young men and women. The two schools provided members.
The art teacher had a broken wrist, but didn't seem to mind. It was better than getting burned alive. He was at the center of a cluster of attentive girls as well as the rescue squad. Calhoun was with the Police Chief in deep conversation.
"How are you?" Mrs. Putney asked.
"Well, I'm a lot better than I could have been." I replied. "It was a close call."
"Was it. . . ?"
"We can talk about that later," I said.
"Douglas, this is a new member of our staff, Will," she said introducing me to her husband. Douglas looked like the fathers on My three Sons or Leave it to Beaver.
"Apparently you were the one to report the fire," he said. "Eleanor, I think he may have earned his keep already. That would have been nasty if I had been caught later."
The Police chief came over to us. "Do you want the fire Department to clean it up?" he asked Mrs. Putney. She looked at me.
"A purely routine investigation as to the cause might be desirable," I said. Mr. Putney looked at me oddly.
"You smelled it too?" The chief said. He must have noted the smell of gasoline in the room. I nodded.
"Do whatever you think is best," Mrs. Putney replied. "Leave everything where it is until tomorrow. Will will help you with anything you need.
The art teacher came over. "Can I get the student portfolios to a safe place? It's supposed to rain tomorrow. Several of the girls need their portfolios to get into art school."
"I'll help you with those," I said. "I don't think you will be lifting anything soon. Do you have some students who can help?" we went off.
"If we could find a place to lay them out, we might assess the damage," the art teacher said. "I am Anton Deekens, by the way.
"I'm Will."
The head gym teacher, a rather mannish woman, allowed us into the gym and the girls carried the portfolios into the room. They laid out all of the drawings and paintings. Several were singed and others had minor water damage. Paper towels took care of that. Most of the works were pretty ordinary, but several girls were good. There was nothing I could identify as a clue in the works.
I went back to the apartment and slept until the Police chief knocked on the door at 7:00. "Okay, why are you here. I checked on you and you are no janitor."
I told him about my aunt and her concerns. "She must be a perceptive woman," he said. "I've heard a whisper or two. Was the incident with Mrs. Elliot a part of this?"
"I have no idea yet," I said. "The fire was almost certainly arson," I said. "I'm here under cover; I'd like to keep it that way."
"Are you with me or against me?" he bluntly asked.
"I think we are 100% on the same side. If there is something illegal, you make the arrest. If it's something embarrassing, that would be up to your discretion."
"The two schools are the financial mainstay of Randall. Part of my job here is to make sure they stay that way," he said. We shook hands and he left.