Catfish Finds Old Gold 3 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
The next day was productive. Bill and his crew removed a good part of the wall and we finally had easy access to the interior of the vault. Captain Billy delivered two generators and other equipment to the island. We were all excited when we finally broke through. Then excitement stopped. Livingston had agreed the site was a crime scene. The forensic team was waiting and the Richmond Police took charge. Our work was done until they investigated the bodies.
Captain Miller did confirm the floor of the cave was paved in gold ingots. Each ingot weighed about twenty pounds. I did a quick calculation in my head and figured each was worth $400,000.00 or so. There had to be well over a thousand of them. Four hundred million was a tidy sum.
Livingston sent the archaeological team home except for Wilbur. His skills with skeletons were still needed. I sent my people home too. Regular police patrols were needed now and my staff people needed a rest.
Some things happened off the island. The chatter on the Civil War sites had greatly increased. Some seemed to know something big was afoot. My geezers didn't think they knew exactly what had been found but there were suspicions. My top geezer, Jarvis Malloy, had focused on two groups. Jarvis was a retired ATF investigator and he had a nose for trouble. One group called itself the SOS. That was either the Sons of the South or the Saviors of the South.
The SOS was militantly states' rights. They were anti-constitution and felt each state could define its own Bill of Rights and determine its own rules for citizenship. They did not feel the Federal government had the right to collect taxes or have a treasury. It was run by a real estate executive, Wilson Woodrow. He lived in Buckingham County, a rural area outside of Richmond. He was a known "gun collector" and lived in an estate called the Compound.
A second group was the White Legion. It was a militia group founded to protect us against them. They never said who "them" was but everyone knew. Jarvis thought they were officially anti-communist, but they seemed to believe Spanish speaking people were all Cuban agents, as were blacks, Jews and most Catholics. Their leader was Billy-Boy Jones. "Reading between the lines, I think they would be happy reinstating slavery with a few extermination camps for troublemakers," Jarvis said. "Their headquarters is just over the border in West Virginia. Both groups place a great emphasis on financing and on the government stealing their rightful income through taxes."
"Normally, that emphasis is actually on enhancing the income of the leader," Jarvis explained. "I assume that is the case here, but they are secretive."
"How big are they?" I asked.
"I think the SOS has perhaps 100-200 heavily armed members. The Legion may have a hundred," Jarvis said. They claim thousands, but that is based on the hits their web sites receive. The web counter said they had 175,000 or so hits and that happens to be the claimed membership."
"Are they dangerous or just whacky?"
"That is the question, isn't it? They are ready to repel a Cuban or North Korean invasion. They see police as enemy agents and would like to see all political questions answered by force. They are very interested in money and see themselves as the heirs of the Confederacy," Jarvis said. "I admit, this is more of a gut feeling than actual facts. I can smell something." I told him to keep tracing the two organizations.
I liked the Geezers. I case you thought I was making fun of the old guys, there were some who thought I was one of them. Somehow, in the last year or so my beard seems to have turned white. I have a Gabby Hayes look to me. The white beard makes me look less scary, but no more attractive or intelligent. I look as if I am well on the high side of 65.
The news that some suspected something was going on was worrisome. It was the last week of July, the silly season for the news. There was no news to fill up the hours of programming on the 24 hour news channels. Livingston was opposed to giving out false information. He felt it undermined the credibility of his organization. Captain Billy came to the rescue. Billy could let slip some information that was sort of correct, but not complete. Billy was talkative and ran into a reporter at a bar.
According to Billy, we had found something an old ruin and some bodies on the island. He thought they had found and old cemetery near some forgotten fortifications, or the footings of an old mill. All of that was sort of correct. There was no mention of murder or of the gold.
When the story got out it seemed to excite the internet people, but it also seemed to satisfy them. The media went after the medical examiner and the Richmond Police. Unless immediate public safety was involved, the police spokeswoman was friendly and completely uninformative. The medical examiner never gave out any information except at a trial.
Of course, someone else could leak the discovery of the gold. As of now, while there was considerable interest in the story, there was not so much as to get in the way of the investigation. If the reporters had been smarter they would have noticed several law offices were working at night and on weekends, as was the Attorney General's office. Virginia has a strong preference for political hacks as the chief legal officer of the Commonwealth, but some people in the office were bright. All were researching the legal status of the gold.
I went home to clean up and find out what was going on at my office. Unexpectedly, I took Wilbur and his assistant, Roger, home with me. They lived on the Northern Neck, about two hours away. Wilbur needed to stay nearer Richmond in case he was needed, so I offered my apartment as a crash pad. Roger was an innocuous man who took notes as Wilbur investigated. He was the sort of man you ignore.
I live above my office, but it was Saturday and it was quiet. I did have a rule that my apartment was my home, not an extension of the office. No one drops in without calling first.
Wilbur was knowledgeable and intelligent. I don't think he was a Civil War buff, but he was also one of those men who tended to know everything. He wasn't a know-it-all; he just knew it all. He was not the sort of man you would want to Play Trivial pursuit with if he was on the other team.
"The official story was that the Confederacy was bankrupt," he said. "In the winter of 1865 the people were starving. There had been a famous food riot two years earlier and by '65, the situation was much more dire. When they set fire to the warehouses as they evacuated the city, the residents looted the buildings of food and anything else they could get their hands on."
"We know they were starving, but why was there so much food in storage?" he asked rhetorically. "What were they saving it for? Federal troops were six miles away from the White House of the Confederacy. Richmond was the last major city of the South not in Federal hands. What were they thinking?"
"Denial is not just a river in Egypt," I said. "Were they delusional?"
"Hitler liked Richard Wagner's operas. In his Ring of the Nibelungen, the gods find gold, steal it and eventually die rather than return the gold to the rightful owners. Hitler destroyed Germany, the nation he ruled and loved, rather than give up his power," Wilbur continued. "The South was lost, but they still set Richmond on fire to keep supplies from falling into Union hands. The Union had all the supplies it needed and more. Its farms produced unlimited food and factories made more weapons than they needed. It was a modern, industrial nation. The South was already in ruins, the North was thriving."
"So the question is, why was the South bankrupt with a vault filled with gold?" I asked.
"I surely is a puzzle," Wilbur said.
"This conversation is interesting, but I need to take a shower. I feel like I am the inside of a garbage bag," I said.
"We need a shower too," Wilbur said. "May we join you?" Apparently Rodger and Wilbur were a couple.
"The more the merrier," I said. I didn't expect that, but I'm always friendly and willing. We adjourned to my shower. My apartment had been owned by a tile installer. He got stuck with an order his client didn't like, so my shower is spectacular. It is filled with terra-cotta birds in brilliant colors. Wilbur was impressed.
Wilbur and Roger weren't shy at all. Apparently getting naked with a man they had just met was not a problem. It wasn't a problem for me either. They were an odd couple. Wilbur was a big, strapping fellow with a hairy chest and uncut meat. Roger was just slightly taller than me, and every hair was in place. There wasn't much hair. He shaved his head and body expect for his pubes. He was cut and his equipment looked over sized for his small frame. He was staring at my cock with obvious interest.
We showered and cleaned up. Once the utilitarian part of the shower was finished, we got down to business.
"I heard it through the grapevine you were hung. Actually, Roger heard it. He's a bit of a size queen. I not, but I don't mind a generously scaled cock."
"I hope it meets your standards. Are you partners?" I asked.
"We use to be fuck buddies. Somehow over the last ten years it has turned into something other than that," Wilbur said. "He's a top and I'm a bottom, but he gets all excited by big ones. His ass turns needy on him. Do you give free samples?"
"Well, I do admire the romantic approach," I said, "I take it you don't mind watching him get all excited over a game of prostate tag?"
"I like to see Roger happy," he said. We dried off and went to my bedroom.
I am not that prone to self-criticism. It seems to me that most people can take one look at me and see my short comings. My Mom thought I was a pretty baby and that was enough for me.
It would be nice if when a guy came up to me and said he heard I had a big cock and asked if I would fuck him, if I said no more often. Truthfully speaking, it would be nice if I said no just once. If that were to happen, it wasn't going to be with Wilbur and his pal Roger.
Both Wilbur and Roger were well beyond half-staff when we talked and I am easily inspired. At one time, I thought that maybe I was doing it out of charitable instincts. Perhaps I was a Mother Theresa type with a big cock. It turns out my abilities at self-delusion aren't that great. Once there is an erection nearby, the little brain in my cock takes over.
Roger was a trip. He made Woody Allen look like Steve Reeves. Somehow, he had the look of a man who expected you to slam the door in his face. He didn't exactly cower, but he came damn close. He had a nice seven incher with a big knob and I soon discovered he was all but double jointed. Curiously, he seemed to lose all of his timidity when he was sexually engaged.
Wilbur was a good looking man, sort of an Indiana Jones-lumberjack sort. He had a six by six cock. It was a thick ass plug. Wilbur was masculine, but all bottom. He was an aggressive bottom. Roger may have been a wimp, but he was a top. Oddly his interest in big cocks seemed to bring out the bottom in him.
I told Wilbur I didn't like watchers; he would need to play. I was firm, but I seemed have been distracted by his erect cock and I dropped to my knees to sample it. His cock was responsive and almost delicate. The slit was wide and I licked it. Wilbur was enthusiastic. I later found out Roger wasn't much into oral sex and he wasn't very good at it. Wilbur bent over and worked on Roger's meat.
We weren't in a rush and we took our time. I suggested Roger screw Wilbur and then I would rear end him. They were both enthusiastic about that. They were essentially monogamous, with a rare threesome. It wasn't just that I was hung. I wasn't academic and didn't associate with academics. Wilbur didn't want his sexual preferences known. At school there were some who were willing to trade sexual services for grades. It was better if Wilbur's sexual life was unknown. There was less stress that way. Wilbur didn't need to worry about me showing up at a departmental party and seeing me or finding me on a committee with him.
I had scared Roger when he first saw me. He relaxed when he discovered I wasn't going to eat him for lunch, but a little bit of unease seemed to excite him. When I mentioned fucking him as he screwed Wilbur, he got a glow. From my own experience I knew a double fuck could be anatomically complicated. I had never encountered a double jointed man before. For all practical purposes, Roger could get his ass anywhere he wanted.
I am usually not an aggressive top. A friend of mine described me as a memorable top. That friend didn't become a regular, but it did like to keep in touch. Wilbur and Roger liked threesomes in principle, but hadn't had any particularly successful experiences. Once I discovered Roger liked to be the filling in a fuck sandwich, we were off to the races.
I sucked Wilbur and his thick tool responded quickly. Once his thick foreskin retracted, his cock head was delicate and responsive. His balls responded too. Once my lips caressed his knob his sex juices began to flow. For some men that happens only just before the orgasm. He was ready from the very start.
Wilbur and I were in the 69 position with his ass on the edge of the bed. Rodger lifted Wilbur's and spread them wide. He then nuzzled his cock in Wilbur's asshole. My bedroom comes equipped with lube. He toyed with the hole a little and then pushed. That was when the fun started. It was clear that Wilbur's hole and Roger's cock were a perfect fit.
Wilbur was one of those men whose cock responded to every stimulus. With every movement of Roger's cock, Wilbur's cock reacted, either by twitching or by oozing. Of course, I had a front row and center seat. The view was great, but the taste was better. I knew exactly what Wilbur was feeling. I could tell when Roger's knob rubbed his prostate and that he got more excited by Roger cock as it was on the way in, than on the way out.
Wilbur loved it when the fuck tool was fully lodged. He tended to twitch on the quick, hard thrusts and ooze on the slow, deep movements. I was actually sharing and enjoying Wilbur's reactions. The nice thing about group play is that there is back up when your playmates shoots off. You don't need to rest until he recharges.
I seem to have a long fuse and I can work over several men before I pop. In this case it was more of a shared experience. I was able to look at Roger's face and I knew he wanted me in his ass. I got off of Wilbur and we rearranged ourselves. Roger was on his back and Wilbur sat on his cock. Roger then pulled his legs up and hooked them in front of his Wilbur's chest so that Roger's ass was spread wide and open.
I lubricated the opening well. His hole was tight and I wondered it could accommodate my organ. He was an adult and that was his problem. When I was younger I tended to bulldoze my cock and ass. I don't do that anymore. I need to have my partner enjoying it. Some guys get turned on by a whimpering playmate. I am not.
Roger jumped when my knob touched his hole. I pushed gently. A friends of mine told it wasn't the gentleness of the thrust that was the problem, it was the size of my cock. I took my time.
"Add some more lube and push harder," Roger said. I coated my cock with more lube and returned to the needy hole. I pushed and tried a little rotating movement with my hips. I thought a little cork-screw action might help. My knob vanished and Roger gasped for breath. I added a pumping movement to the cork-screw. A few minutes later my cock head encountered his prostate. There wasn't quite enough room for my cock and his prostate in his tight ass. The tight squeeze was good for him.
My cock seemed to like using his prostate as a punching bag. I had just progressed beyond his prostate when he shot off in Wilbur's ass. Roger had an almost convulsive series of ejaculations. There was no way to hide them. Wilbur disentangled himself from Roger and we pulled apart.
Roger was all but asleep. I was all dressed for the ball, but had just lost my date. I looked at Wilbur and saw he was still fully erect. Our eyes met. He had been looking at my organ.
"Let's give it a try," he whispered. He was on the bed; I got behind him and eased into his ass. I was bigger than he was used to, but Roger had worked him over and his ass was semen filled. I pushed it deeper. I was careful, but it was fine for both of us. He was tight and firm. He later told me he hadn't had anyone other than Roger for five years.
It was just friendly at first, but a big cock in a tight ass can only encourage greater intensity. It was good. Wilbur asked me to hold off. "When Roger wakes up, he will want you to breed him," he explained.
"When will he wake up?" I asked.
"It will be twenty or thirty minutes at the most," Wilbur said, "Can you last that long?"
"I can try, but mistakes and misjudgments happen," I replied. "Is that a problem?"
"Neither Roger or I would have a problem with anything spurting out of your cock," he said. We had a nice rectum-cock massage session. When Roger rejoined us, I upped the intensity level and Wilbur popped. I pulled out and returned to Roger's ass. I got in deep right off the bat and he shot off as soon as I began squirting my love juice in his ass.
I was up for a day of round robin fucking, but Wilbur took a call. They needed him at the Medical Examiner's office.
I had a good lunch and was going to rest, but I turned on the television. There was a Special Report. "Confederate Treasure found in Downtown Richmond," was the headline. The word was out.