Catfish Goes Naked By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that, DO NOT read it! You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, and is 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
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I am not exactly your standard State Trooper or FBI Agent type. I'm not attractive or muscular. Nothing about me is particularly associated with law enforcement officers. That is one reason for my success as a private detective. No one guesses or suspects me of being a cop.
Some go so far as to say my resemblance to the species homo sapiens is a bit suspect. My mother thought I was cute until the hair began to sprout all over my body. That happened when I was thirteen years old.
My Uncle Jake was a smart man. He shared my tendency to be hirsute, but it work better on a beefy, muscular man who was well over six feet tall. Jake told me if you are given a lemon, make lemonade.
Some people are defensive or embarrassed at their looks. I never had a problem. I am perfectly happy with the way I look. No one else was, excepting Mom, but that did not bother me.
I get more attractive when I am naked, especially if there are some Size Queens nearby. As long as a man looks at my cock before seeing my face, all is well. My cock isn't pretty, but it is big and that counts in some quarters. Being naked does not bother me at all.
I had a call from Captain Miller of the Richmond police. He wanted to come by a talk. He had a man he wanted me to meet. I agreed and an hour later, he came by with a Captain Juan Fernandez of the Miami Beach Police.
They had a problem with a series of burglaries of the homes and apartments of people visiting Haulover Beach, a nude part of Miami Beach. It particularly related to the male portion of the beach. Visitors to the beach were being burglarized while they were at the beach. Someone had to know when the victim was there, but more importantly, the burglars had to have warning when the visitor left. No one had been interrupted mid burglary.
Juan needed an undercover man on the beach. Undercover is not the right description, since there had to be no cover at all. His Departmental brass did not want anything to do with this. They could see the headlines, "Naked Cops Nab Gay Burglars." That would turn them into a laughing stock. It would also ruin the careers of any police officer assigned to the task.
Juan needed an operative who was unrelated to the Police who could get the job done without publicity. Someone from out of town would be ideal.
"When I heard this story, I figured you would be the perfect man for the job," Tommy said.
"You think I'm gay?" I asked in mock horror.
"A little birdie told me," Miller said. "It was confirmed by some notes I saw on a Men's room wall. It included a drawing!"
I had just finished a difficult case and I was tired. I decided to take the job for a week or two. A vacation in Miami sounded good.
A week later I was in a condominium overlooked the northern tip of the beach. Juan came to see me with two members of the beach patrol, Surfer Murphy and Helen Washington. I did not impress them at all.
They went through their suspicions. There were attendants in the beach parking areas that were obvious possibilities, but some of the robberies were of people on bicycles and several were of guests, not the drivers of the car. That seemed to indicate someone was on the beach and reporting to the actual burglars. Of course, there are no more than two or three residents of Miami who do not have a cell phone surgically attached to their ears, so there was no problem getting information from the beach.
"Do people take their wallets or IDs to the beach?" I asked. "You could get some of the info from a cell phone if no one is looking. A two man operation would work best, one man to distract and the other to search."
"One man or woman," Helen interjected.
"Would a woman be conspicuous in the male part of the beach?" I asked.
"Conspicuous is not the right word," Surfer said, "It is a public beach. Some women like it because they are not hit on as much. There are also some gal pals."
"I would do it as a pair of men, one a hot stud and the other his nerdy friend. While the mark is occupied with the glittery bauble, the nerd could go for the wallet," I said.
"That would work," Helen conceded.
"It would be hard to keep an eye on the beach when you are in the water," Surfer remarked.
"It would be harder if you were engaged in underwater explorations," I said.
"Snorkeling?" Surfer suggested. I looked puzzled.
He smiled. "Snorkeling is when you hold your breath and do some underwater cock sucking," he explained.
I laughed. "I'm from Virginia, my underwater sex skills are undeveloped," I said. We talked a little longer and I said my plan was to visit the beach and see what happened. I would report to them at the end of each day.
They left, but ten minutes later Surfer knocked on my door. "Do you mind if we talk a little privately?" he asked.
"Not at all," I said. "Come on in."
"I could have been the undercover guy on the beach, but I have hopes to get a promotion, and that would never happen if I did a nude stint on a gay beach," he said. "You aren't what I expected at all."
"I was born for undercover operations; I am easy to ignore," I said.
"Would you be insulted if I said that is an understatement?" he asked.
"I know my physical charms are not for just everyone," I said. "Most of my charms hang between my legs. That seems to overcome and squeamishness about my physical beauty."
"How much charm is that?"
"Eight-nine inches plus, thick and uncut inches," I said.
Surfer laughed. "You aren't the shy type, are you?"
"I've not been lucky at love, but sex is a different story. I have no problem with superficial, meaningless sex. Some good looking studs are willing to give it a try, as long as there are no strings attached," I explained. "Some come back for more and a few are willing to admit they know me. It's all good for me."
"Some guys may hit on you," Surfer said.
"I have no problem with that, and I don't mind a few sexual interludes," I said. "Some men get talkative after an orgasm."
"That could be a problem in court," he said.
"If we catch the perpetrators, the Police and the Beach Patrol will get the credit. Ideally, no one will know I am involved. Once and a while I am listed as an anonymous "public spirited" citizen, but never more than that. Back home I get paid big bucks to handle things discretely."
"You don't mind not getting credit?"
"My Mom is a big time Presbyterian. You get credit in heaven, not on earth," I said.
Surfer laughed. "My folks are Southern Baptist. That is not the way they see it, especially the gay aspect."
"Mom thinks you need to look at the whole person not just the individual parts," I said. "We can make rules for God, but he doesn't have to obey them."
"I will be patrolling that part of the beach alternating with Helen. She is a good woman, but more by the book than I am."
"If I need to talk with you and I see you coming, I will get hard. I assume being hassled by the Beach Patrol would increase my street cred."
"That is probably the case," he said. As he left, he took a nice long look at my crotch. I knew where we stood.
The next day I went to the beach. I had a rental Mercedes sport car and had some expensive gold chains and watch. I was fully accessorized with designer leather wear and a very small Speedo. While they had tentatively ruled out the parking lots attendants, I wanted to cover all bases.
I was after the redneck who hit it big look. I rented an umbrella and went to the beach. I put up the umbrella, took off the Speedo and went into the water. While I am unusually hairy, the hair does not provide any shade. I was in the water for a few minutes, and returned to the umbrella. Three men had set up next to me. The water was almost hot and the sun even hotter. My balls hung low as did my cock. One of the men came over to me.
"You really need some sun screen," he said. "I can help you get to the hard to reach places,"
"That would be neighborly of you," I said. "The name is Nolen, Nolen Spotswood."
"I'm Johnny Demetrious," he said. He was a beefy, middle-aged man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sandals. He was a classic Gorilla type. His friends, Lonnie and Jules, joined him coating me in sunscreen. I was well coated with sunscreen even in places that were pretty unlikely to see the sun. I am a good sport.
By eleven, the beach was getting crowded. There were many regulars there and I was new meat. As I expected, few seemed to notice that I am short, scrawny and ugly. My cock seemed to make up for my weaknesses in other areas. I would not say that all gay men have one-track minds, but there sometimes is a focus on genitals. There were a few women mixed in with the group, but it was 95% male and gay.
Johnny was a cook in a good restaurant. He went to work a two, but he brought a hamper of food with him. He was more than willing to share. Lonnie was a bar tender and Jules was a musician. They came to the beach regularly and Jules gave me the low down on the regulars. I had known men like him before, but Jules never gave any cock details. Everything was on display.
I went into the water several times with them, but they always left one person at the umbrellas to watch over things. I had a chrome finish cell phone that would show any fingerprint. My wallet had my false identification in it and twenty bucks. The wallet was shiny and plastic. I made sure my fingerprints were on it so I could tell if someone had wiped his fingerprints from it. No one in this group touched them.
Johnny and Lonnie went off to get to work at 2:00, but three musician friends joined Jules. They seemed to think I needed more sunscreen and were more overtly sexual in their application of the lotion. The pianist, Sandor, and the saxophonist, Jerry, went into the ocean with me. They were not that interested in swimming, but had a taste for underwater exploration.
When we returned to the umbrellas, I discovered that they had a scheme for several of them to form a screen to hide more overtly sexual activity. Jerry won the lottery and was the first to suck me. He wasn't a virgin and he was orally skilled. Helen was on the beach patrol and she did not notice anything odd about the activity under the umbrellas.
The musicians rotated and Jules was next. He wasn't as skilled as Jerry, but since Jerry had primed the pump, he took my load. He took it with great enthusiasm. He took it all. He told me that he thought having my cock leaking sperm on the beach was unsanitary. They went to get ready for work and I went to my condo.
The lotion had done its bit, but I was less white than before. I had a sense of the normal ebb and flow of the people on the beach and the types of people there. There were a number of well-tanned regulars, many of whom knew each other. There were some young twinks, who looked at me in absolute horror. They were smooth and some shaved their pubes. A few made nasty comments as they passed by.
There were a number of tourists visiting the beach. They were embarrassed, uneasy, timid and excited. They needed sunscreen more than I did.
I noticed some pros looking for a John as well as some young things doing the same thing. Some thought they were much better looking than they were. I assumed some just did not want to work and hoped several blowjobs would provide income make up for their poor education and lack of drive. These struck me as candidates for membership in our burglary ring. The real pros charged enough to live well without risking serious jail time.
When I returned to my condominium, I showered and then sat on my balcony overlooking the beach. I thought I would have dinner and then walk the beach at dusk. I called Juan and asked for the timing of the burglaries. He said the majority was between 11:00 and 4:00 but there were a few up to 8:00 PM.
I found a good Italian restaurant. I returned to the apartment, changed and walked to the beach. When I encountered the sign warning that it was a nude beach, I stripped off my shorts. I ran into Surfer a little later. He had the late shift and he was closing things up. The lifeguards were going off duty and the beach was closing in a half hour. There was no way you could close the beach since it had easy access for miles. Closing was just a way for the city to reduce liability.
I told Surfer that my day had been uneventful. He said that was his favorite kind of day and asked if I would like to have a beer with him and a friend. I said that was fine, but suggested he might come to my condo. I had beer and the view was great. He agreed.
An hour later, I buzzed Surfer and his partner Travis in. Travis was an accountant who looked five or six years older the Surfer. Surfer had a beachcomber look to him. Travis was all accountant, dressed in Brooks Brother's casual. I was wearing cut off shorts and had ditched the gold chains. The shorts were a little too short and my cock sometimes would hang out. No one ever complained. Travis was polite and pleasant. Every time I looked away, he glanced at my crotch.
Travis was wealthy, and lived in an exclusive area. Several of his neighbors had been burgled. I was use to old Virginia families and associated wealth with being staid. If you were a gay man who hit it big and made millions, Miami was the place for you.
Travis said the crooks took jewelry, silver and gold. "Reggie, one of my neighbors has a collection of good paintings, mostly Impressionist and Post-Impressionists. Most were valued in the six figures; a few were seven figures. They were left untouched."
"The police have checked all the local pawn stores and antique places. None of the loot has shown up," Surfer said. "It must be sent off to be sold."
"It sounds to me that our crooks failed to take an Art History class at college," I remarked.
"The crooks don't watch Antiques Roadshow either," Travis said. "Art is one thing, but Reggie has a lot of collectables, antique paperweights, lamps, figurines and the like. They want precious metals and jewels."
It was clear that we were not dealing with a sophisticated group. I wondered if they might be working for a jeweler. We talked a little longer and I finally asked them if they were pals, pals with benefits, lovers or partners.
"We've been all of that," Travis said. "Surfer was a tenant living in the former stable of my house. We became friendly and then more friendly. We are partners now. We do not have exactly the same tastes in men. Sometimes we share playmates. I like them preppy and young. He likes men who are big, butch, daddy types."
I smiled. "Well I seem to have fallen between the cracks of your preferences."
"Did Surfer mention I am a size queen?" Travis asked.
"No he didn't," I replied. "Did he mention that I like no strings sex?"
Travis laughed. "As a matter of fact he did." I unbuttoned my shorts. By the time I was undressed, both Surfer and Travis had stripped. Surfer was muscular, tanned and covered in golden fuzz. From a distance, you would think he was smooth, up close he was a fur ball. Travis was in good shape and had a hairy chest. Both men were well equipped.
There was a brief uncomfortable period when the two men had a problem deciding who would do what when Surfer's cell phone rang.
"Oh shit!" he said as he answered the call. There was a suspected drowning at the beach and he had to leave. The two men dressed and left quickly. Travis asked for a rain check.
The next morning the news had a report of a party on the beach where several partiers went for a swim in the dark and vanished. After a two-hour search Surfer Murphy of the Beach Patrol found them a mile down the beach, carried off by a rip tide. There were none the worse for wear, too drunk to know there had been a problem.
I went the beach at 10:30 and set up my tent again. This time I was in a group of younger men, much younger. There were six guys from a local college who were apparently there on a bet. They were "straight" and just there to look at the frolicking fags.
They giggled a lot and made snide comments. My gaydar went off indicating closet cases. Most were smooth, twink types. It seemed to me they were way too interested in watching gay men. An older gay couple seemed to find them amusing. They seemed mildly annoying to me.
They did not seem to think much of me either. I heard the phase, "Abominable Sandman" mentioned along with the words "old geezer." Several took a glance at me every chance they could. I went in the warm water. The day was hot, although there was a good sea breeze. My balls hung low as did my cock. I know there is a big difference between an old geezer and a well-hung old geezer.
When they went into the water, one stayed behind. He was the one who was most interested. He stared at me, or more correctly, at my cock.
"You're going to burn," I said.
"What do you mean?" he said in a frightened voice.
"Sunburn," I said. "You need to put on some lotion."
"I forgot to bring it."
"Your friends don't share?" I asked.
"They say it will be a lesson to me for being a space cadet," he replied.
"I think you need better friends," I said. "I have extra, come over and I will spray you."
"I'm okay."
"No you aren't, and you very much will not be okay this evening. A bad burn can be dangerous."
He came over and I sprayed him, giving him a good coat. His name was Sean. He was 19 and bit pudgy. He still had his baby fat. He had the beginnings of a hairy chest, and he was showing the signs of early baldness.
"By the way, I'm not into young guys, but it's okay to look," I said.
"You noticed I was looking?" Sean asked.
"Everyone looks," I said. "Some may look more than others, but everyone looks."
He friends were getting out of the water so he went back to his towel. They had seen him talking to me and ribbed him about it.
They left and a second group of young men replaced them. They were tanned, beach bunny types, and they were with an older man. He was handsome and buffed. I soon realized they were his harem.
I was decked out in gold chains and expensive accessories. One of the men came over to me and we talked. I think my Southwest Virginia accent has mellowed through the years, but it was clear he thought I was one of the ugly Beverly Hillbillies. His name was Raoul. He was muscular and tattooed. He also thought he was hot stuff. I think he had drawn the short straw, but he mellowed. I would like to think it was my sparkly conversation, but I had done a little rearranging of my equipment and his cock had firmed up.
At one point, Raoul turned toward the leader of the pack and showed him his semi erect cock. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the leader smile and wink at him. Raoul was the bait and I was his prey. This was exactly what I was looking for.
Another member of the harem joined us, another beach bunny named Lance. Lance was younger looking, but when you looked closely, you could tell he was nearing thirty. Lance was soon semi-erect too. We chatted and Lance managed get in a position exposing his ass hole. It was pink, pretty and a bit puffy. It was well used. Raoul and I went into the surf. Lance stayed at my umbrella.
When we returned from playing, Lance went back to the group and another young man joined us a kid named Buster. He was a Georgia boy in his early twenties and was a muscle builder. I told them I had an appointment, but that I was planning to visit the beach regularly.
When I returned to my apartment, there were fingerprints on my cell phone. Lance he checked out my wallet too. This modern world is filled with marvels. I took a photograph of the fingerprint with my personal phone and sent it to Juan. An hour later, he called.
"Lance has a record of arrests for prostitution and blackmail," he said. "He is a known associate of a man named Goodhue Rance, a nightclub owner."
I described the older man in the group at the beach. A few seconds later Juan sent me a picture of Rance. It was the man. "Does he have a record?" I asked.
"He is suspected of much and has been arrested several times, but there are no convictions," Juan said. "He seems to have loyal underlings."
This was a promising lead. I went back to the beach in the later afternoon. Much to my surprise Sean was there with a friend named Bobby. Bobby's eyes almost popped out when he saw my cock.
"You are back," Sean said.
"I live in a condo at the north end of the beach. It is an easy walk," I said. They said they would love to see it. "I don't mind a little show and tell, but I would need to see your identification before I ask you in. I'm not into minors." They produced the identification and it was not forged. We wondered back to my apartment. I do not know why I have them over, but I remembered being young and wanting to know and do more.