Goes to School 5 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 doesn't get hysterical; she gets firm. We went to my apartment and she looked me over one more time. She agreed with Carlton and Dr. Wisher that I was okay. Sarah went to the house. Mrs. Putney had just returned from Charlottesville with her son. The daughter was going to spend the night at the hospital. They were overjoyed to see Aunt Sarah.
Eleanor had been a typical St. Cecelia's girl. She was beautiful, intelligent and neglected by her parents. Aunt Sarah was the closest thing to a mother she had. Her children regarded her as their Grandmother. It was the family gathering in a time a trouble.
Mom left me alone to sleep, but Rosa appeared bearing sheets. "You should have told me you are Miss Sarah's nephew," she said. "These are old sheets, if you bleed on them it will be no loss. Breakfast will be ready from seven on. If it hurts too much tomorrow for you to move, I deliver!"
"I can't sleep well face down," I said.
"Pillows will work. Sleep any way you can," Rosa said, "I'll get more pillows." Somehow she remade the bed, got more pillows so I could sleep at an angle and left in about five minutes. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
When I work the next morning, I was stuck to the bedding in a few places. Carlton was waiting for me to wake up. "How did you get in here?" I asked.
""Well, I came by to see how you were doing and I met your Mom. We had a nice chat. She was going to wake you up, but I said maybe it would be easier for a guy to get you. She thought that might be better. So here I am," he said. "I'm also to bring back the sheets for the maid. She had a special technique for cleaning them."
I tried to get up. "I don't feel bad, everything just seems to hurt," I said. Carlton helped me get out of bed and detached me from the bedding where the blood glued me to it. I carefully showered and he applied some antibiotic ointment. He took a few licks of my cock too. I needed to be in better shape to enjoy any more than that. After dressing I went to the house and had breakfast with the family. Doug, their son wanted all the details. First had reports are better that police reports. After breakfast, he took his mother off to the hospital.
The Putney's house was large and served as the meeting place of the school's board. The board was meeting today in an emergency session. Ms. Simmons was all business and weak on some social skills. Sarah and Eleanor wanted everything run smoothly. They didn't want the school to be seen in disarray. Mom hit it off with the cook and Rosa so they handled that part of the day. Sarah did the greeting, while Ms. Simmons kept the school running.
Calhoun came by to take me to the Police Station. I was there when the DNA from my jacket produced a hit on the FBI's computers. The goon was Samuel Horton, a small time thug who had been associated with the Mafia. He was now suspected to be a free lance assassin. The FBI thought he was associated with an attack on a nurse who worked for a women's clinic, and an assault on a gay Episcopalian priest's partner. It was clear Douglass Putney was not accidentally attacked. He was the target. Samuel was also believed to be expensive, costing as much as $30,000 a hit.
Aunt Sarah's suspicions were correct. Something was going on. A $30,000.00 assassination attempt is big league stuff. It involved deep pockets and a paymaster who had no limits and damn little common sense.
The Feds were interested in Horton on suspicion of domestic terrorism. The troopers wanted him for Virginia. I went back to my apartment to try to rest, but I was uncomfortable, more correctly I couldn't get comfortable. I felt better walking so I just wandered. The county deputies were evident. They were well armed and wearing bullet proof vests. I walked to St. Michael's. They organized student patrols of groups of five to six students. They were armed only with cell phones, but were probably effective.
When I got back to my apartment, the board meeting was underway. My Mom came over to see me. My porch held an assemblage of cookies, brownies and pastries from the girls. Most were home made. I also had a bottle or two of Jim Beam. Given the domestic backgrounds of many of the girls, they must have assumed that was the way to a man's heart. Mom had a good time talking with the girls. As a nurse he knew more about the situation facing Douglass than they did. Mom is nothing if not a straight talker. She neither sugar coated the situation, nor over dramatized it.
Many of the girls tended to be dramatic. That was how they got their folk's attention. One of the girls asked what would happen if Mr. Putney didn't fully recover. Mom said you would just have to deal with it. "Mr. Putney has been through a traumatic situation. He may fully recover, but there can be damage that can't be repaired, or won't heal," she said. "You just have to deal with it and work things out."
"My parents go to Europe every time there is a problem," one girl said.
"My husband died when I was 39. I went back to nursing school to get retrained and then got a full-time job in a hospital. Will got a job at a gas station, on weekends and in the summer," Mom said. "I didn't ask him to do that, he just did it. It wasn't what we wanted or had expected, but we have had a good life anyway."
"I could never do that," a young girl said.
"You are wrong about that," Mom said. "You can do what you need to do, if you are willing." Mom had to go back to the house. The board meeting was ending and Rosa would need her. Typically meeting ended with a buffet dinner. The cook produced one that was impressive. Wilda-beast came to say hello to the Board and stayed for dinner. Mrs. Putney returned from Charlottesville with her daughter. She said she couldn't eat anything, but she did. She was starved. Her son spent the night next to the ICU. I had a dinner of Jim Beam and brownies.
Just before dawn there was an alarm. This time it was a fire on the side of a mountain overlooking Randall. It seemed to be a brush or forest fire and was quite spectacular looking. Fortunately it was more spectacular looking than in reality and it was out by 8:00 AM.
I was healing, and wasn't as badly stuck to the sheets this morning. Mom helped me get unstuck. I had breakfast in the house and got an update on Douglass's condition. He was still critical, but stable. Most importantly he wasn't getting worse. Several things they were worried about didn't happen. Mom explained things in a more direct way than the doctors and that helped.
At noon, Calhoun came by. They had found three men dead in a cabin next to a burned out Crown Victoria. That sent chills through my spine. I assumed the men had screwed up and their paymaster wasn't the forgiving type. That was really bad. Whoever hired these men was ruthless, and prone to the most violent way to resolve the situation.
While the short term situation got better, the long term situation got worse. I didn't think the person or persons who had tried to murder Douglass, and had killed three hit men would give up.
That night Douglass improved and was taken off the critical list. The sense of emergency began to dissipate. I planned to get back to work, but that wasn't going to happen. Bending over and lifting was no in the cards. Aunt Sarah was teaching Mrs. Putney's English classes and my mother was running house with Rosa, but the Board had mostly returned home.
I walked to the Police station to see what was up. Wilda-beast saw me as I walked by his school; he sent a student to fetch me.
"It's been such a madhouse here I haven't had time to thank you," he said. "You and Siegfried saved the day."
"You couldn't just stand there," I said.
"If you read the newspapers you well know than many people can just stand there," he said. "Are you free this afternoon? I would like to talk with you privately. I had a hunting cabin a few miles away." I said I was free and he said he would pick me up at 2:00. "This is my free afternoon," he said.
The police station was filled with people, but it was calmer and more relaxed. The Police Chief introduced me to the county Sheriff, Johnny Roberts. "Any more bodies?" I asked.
"Don't even ask. Three dead hit men is my limit," he said. "One dead hit man is more than we have ever had here before."
"Are the Feds working on that angle?" I asked.
"Yes, but that is going on in Pennsylvania and New Jersey," Roberts said. "Two of the men were free lance murderers; the third is neo Nazi associated with racial crimes, although he liked beating up fags too."
"I guess that gave him more opportunities for mayhem," I said. "Were they dead before the fire?"
"Oh yes, all were shot before," Roberts said. "The fire may have been to hide the crime, or it may have been a personal preference of the killer. You had a fire at the school too?"
"Yes, but that was a spite fire. It would have destroyed the semester's work of the art students," I said. "It was the crime, not covering up another crime. Dead men can't talk. I suspect hit men are hired by intermediaries most of the time. I assume these men actually met their paymaster. What would three men have cost?"
"The FBI thinks it may have been $50,000.00 to $60,000.00. Someone has deep pockets," the sheriff observed. "I also assume there are locals associated with the crimes. The studio fire required local knowledge."
"I have nothing definite yet, but you are certainly right about that," I said. "We need someone inside the dorms."
"Do you have an operative who can do that?" Roberts asked. "Chief Wilkerson told me who you are."
"I think I do. I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier." I went home and called my office. Sally, my heart of gold, hard as nails, trailer trash operative was available. The next day she was a maid cleaning the dorms. Sally was small, funny and a gossip. She would get the inside scoop.
Wilda-beast picked me up and we drove to his hunting cabin. It was high style rustic, a small castle rather than a cabin.
"Okay, Catfish, why you are here and what in hell is going on?" he asked. "I know you are a private investigator."
"Someone is trying to damage or ruin St. Cecelia's. I don't know why yet," I said. "My Aunt Sarah hired me to help out Mrs. Putney. The hope was to do it out of sight in a nice discrete way."
"Who in hell would want to ruin the school?"
"Have you ever heard of the Cranmer Society?" I asked.
"Oh shit!" he replied. "The lunatic fringe of the Episcopal Church, are they involved?"
"I don't know. One of your board members finances the Society."
"You're kidding. That can't be true."
"Gerald Fitzroy Milland III is a secret supporter," I explained.
"I'm not sure he has been to church in the last thirty years. That can't be."
"Why is he on your board?" I asked.
"He's a life member. Gerald was a friend of my predecessor. There is a promise of a substantial endowment from him, but nothing has materialized yet. He is the rudest and crudest man I know. I thought he was harmless," Wilda-beast said. "The Cranmer society, are you sure?"
"He is firmly anti-women, anti-gay and anti-anyone who isn't white."
"Well, the anti-gay is a front," Wilda-beast said. "I've plowed his ass enough to know." I was speechless. I should have figured that out myself. Being violently anti-gay is sometimes a side effect of being deeply closeted.
"Is he into pain?" I asked.
Wilda-beast looked at me. "You do know your stuff. He likes forced sex, but if you turn the tables on him he may very well like it more," he said. "That's how I kept my job here. I came be a bull in a china shop and I fucked up badly my first year here. He got drunk and tried to jump me. I'm a lot stronger than he is and I poked him. He cried like a baby, and then begged for more. I do make sure he doesn't get within ten feet of the boys. I told him I would kill him if he did."
"He believed you?"
"He had every reason to believe me," he replied. "He's a bully. When you call him on it he becomes your slave." He paused. "So he's after St. Cecelia's. I hadn't guessed."
"It's a suspicion, not a fact," I said. "I don't have the evidence yet." We talked for a while and he knew the problem and would watch Gerald carefully.
"You seem to have your bull in the china shop tendencies under control," I said.
"That is Douglass's doing. He's always calm, collected and reasonable. He took me under his wing," he said. "Oddly, Gerald helped too. When you meet someone who is an out of control asshole, and once and a while you see him looking at you from the mirror when you shave, it's time to grow up."
He put his arm around me and I jumped in pain. "I sorry," he said. "Is there any place you don't hurt?"
I looked him in the eye and said, "Well, there is one place." He smiled and helped my strip. He had already guessed the part that didn't hurt. He wasn't a naturally delicate or gentle man, but he made a real effort. He wasn't completely successful, but he tried hard and I appreciated the effort. This may sound odd, but he got really turned on. He was making love to my cock and my cock reciprocated. He licked and I dripped. During a break, he said, "I'm usually not much into cock juices and drool, but you've got some high test there. You've got me going."
"You are doing a good job," I said. "You may get the premium high test soon. Do you want me to warn you?"
"Just let it flow," he said. Sometimes I spit it out; would that bother you?"
"Shit, I've got my use out of it. Do with it want you want." I shot off, he took it and then I fell asleep. When I woke, he was still sucking. I shot off again. He sucked until my balls were drained. He got up.
"Have you popped yet?" I asked.
"Not yet, but that is fine," he said.
"Get closer and let me take a lick or two." He came closer. I took his knob into my mouth and then licked the tender underside. He exploded. His man seed seemed super heated almost steamy. If his cock were a volcano, he'd have made a new island.
We went back to Randall and my apartment. I had dinner at the house with the Putney's son and daughter. Their mom was staying at the hospital that night. They thought of Sarah as their aunt, and my mother soon was in much the same situation. Several faculty members and some townspeople dropped by. It was a family atmosphere. I said good night to everyone and went to my apartment at nine. Two men were waiting for me.
I had an "Oh Shit" moment, and then recognized them as Siegfried's redneck neighbors. They were the ones who had chased the muggers. They weren't rednecks, but good ol' boys and they wanted to know more. The older one, Clem was an auto mechanic. He was tall, thin and very hairy. The younger one was Al who was short, thin and hairy. Neither man buttoned his shirt above the navel. Al was a nephew of some sort. We went up to my room and I fed them bourbon and brownies. That struck them as a gourmet's delight.
I had been moving in the academic tier of Randall's society. They moved in the less educated but gainfully employed levels. They were local heroes for having chased the men. Everyone wanted to get the details and several volunteered they had seen the three man around town. The hit men had patronized the MacDonald's and a pizza parlor. Several people had seen the car around town. The desk clerk at the Randall House Inn had seen them in the lobby, but they weren't guests.
"Were they visiting someone at the Inn?" I asked. The Inn was the only upscale hotel in town. It catered to the students' wealthy parents.
"Rufus said they went upstairs, but he didn't know who they visited," Clem said. Al talked little, but then pulled out a little, spiral bound note pad. He had recorded every comment with the day and approximate time the contact occurred. I went to the kitchen table and we arranged them in chronological order. Al had a bad stutter, but as he relaxed, it got better. Al and I were at the glass topped table writing. Clem stood and watched.
Clem seemed to have an itch in his crotch that needed to be scratched and rubbed. I arranged my cock so its outline was more clearly indicated on my worn jeans. Our eyes met and we understood each other. Al looked at Clem and smiled. By the time the list was done, they were nearly hard.
"Are you boys popular with the ladies?" I asked.
"You would be surprised, given how handsome and manly we are, but no," Clem said. "I'm usually covered in oil. Al here is a roofer. They never get close to him. You look like a babe magnet too."
I laughed. "I have the bait, but no one's biting," I said as I shifted my cock again. "I never bite, but I do suck." Al unzipped and pulled his cock out. I explained I was a bit sore, but Clem said they were careful men. The apartment door was locked and the drapes pulled.
They helped me strip. That was hard because Al wanted to suck me really bad. I was afraid I might have shot my wad earlier, but that wasn't a problem at all. I had recharged. Clem fed me his organ as Al took mine.
"Al's never taken anyone but me up his ass, but he would like to try someone bigger. I go deep, but he thinks something thicker would be good," Clem said. "I'd like to see you do him. He likes it a lot. I could open him up for you." That was good for all of us. Al got on my bed on his back. I had lube and poppers. I got on top of Al so he could suck me as I sucked him and watch Clem ease his way in.
Al and I were the same size. He had a good, six inch cock that looked good on his small frame. Al was well built and muscular, a perfectly shaped man at slightly less than full size. I tend to be scrawny. I lost my train of thought when I tasted Al's cock juices. Al was a heavy leaker, so his cock, balls and bush were coated with his juices. I loved it, and forgot to watch Clem.
Pre-cum tends to turn me on anyway, but Al's turned me on big time. My cock did the same for Al. I relaxed and concentrated on milking is cock juices. I got a large spurt and opened my eyes to see Clem's knob nestled in Al's hole. Clem had a large, oval cock head, with a flared edge; it was shinny, lubricant covered and dripping his own man juices.
The cock head caressed and probed Al's hole and finally popped through. Al spurted a huge glob of juices as Clem's cock slid in deep. Once or twice before I got to taste a man's reaction to being fucked, but this was spectacular. Every movement Clem made was indicated by a change in the flow of Al's ball juices. I could taste and feel Al being sexually massaged. Clem looked like a dumb redneck but he was a master lover.
"Clem, I'd love to taste Al's cream, can you pop him for me?" I asked.
"Sure, it's easy as pie!" Clem said. He pulled his long snake so only four or five inches were in the hole and then did some prostate massaging. The prostate to cockhead doubled Al's flow. He got more excited and began to shiver. I think his first ejaculation all but filled my mouth. It was wonderful.
I was a little worried he might get dehydrated from shooting off so much fluid, but my cock solved that problem. It shot the entire contents of my balls into Al's greedy mouth. It was getting late, so they went home. I asked if I could come by and play some more another day. They both said yes.
I slept very well that night for the first time since the mugging. I woke up feeling good, had breakfast with Mom and Aunt Sarah and then too Al's list to the Police Station. Calhoun we on duty, and he saw the significance of the list.
"It's time to check out the guest list of the Randall Inn isn't it? We were looking into the ownership of the cabin too. That is unclear. There may be a problem with poor record keeping at the court house, or there may be a deliberate effort to hide the ownership."
"Is the courthouse staff prone to be sloppy?"
"Shit no, the chief clerk is shocked an appalled if there is a misplaced comma. My older sister is a legal secretary. Everything must be 100% correct."
"Has this always been the case?" I asked.
Calhoun laughed. "This is a small county; the current clerk is the son of the previous one. Anal retentiveness is a genetic problem."
I went back to the school and resumed my janitorial duties. The Art Studio was almost ready to be occupied again. The painters were busy finishing up and I was to do clean-up. The regular staff worked on taking out the trash. I was on broom duty. The students were distinctly friendlier, with a few exceptions.
While St. Michael's and St. Cecelia's schools were completely independent, some of the advanced classes in the upper school were co-ed. Professors from a nearby University came in to teach these classes. I saw Dee Dee, Gerald and Newton in a student lounge talking during a break with some other friends.
I could hear what they were saying. I hoped my new operative on the job; Sally would get the students' view of the situation.