Catfish Goes to Tinseltown By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you do not 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. I have made no effort to portray safe sex practices. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com
Several months after I left Florida, Hector called me. I had been in a low budget porn video produced and directed by Hector. Truthfully speaking, my cock was the star. Hector said a producer from Hollywood, Maury Greenburg, was interested in me.
Maury was doing a movie set in Depression Era Appalachia. Even naked he could tell I had a solid grip on red neck characteristics. The Hollywood types tended to do it Beverly Hillbilly's style. He liked my accent and thought it sounded "authentic." How he could tell from lines like, "Hold still while I fuck you good," I don't know.
Hector told him I was not an actor or a model. I was an undercover detective. After a few jokes about being naked and undercover, the producer said he had a problem. He had a prankster or perhaps saboteur in his company. Hector said he had given Maury my name and number and he might call.
Ten minutes later Maury called. Maury thought I was playing the role of a Southern Redneck. I thought he was playing the role a hyperactive Jewish movie producer. I told him I couldn't act. He said he wanted my voice. If I would come to Hollywood and talk with his voice coach for a week, he would pay me $10,000.00. That sounded good to me.
"Hector told me that you have a saboteur," I said.
"I have something," he replied. "It could be a mean spirited practical joker, but the pranks are getting borderline dangerous. The creep doing them mostly directs them against the newer people in my company. They have spooked some of the girls."
"Do you think it's a pervert disguising his actions as a joke?" I asked.
Maury was silent for a while. "You know, I hadn't thought of that," he said. "I rarely stop long enough to think about that sort of thing. That could be what is happening."
"I got my start going after muggers and purse snatchers," I said. "I'm a small guy and I hate men who prey on people they think are easy targets."
"I saw the video. Part of you isn't small," he said. "Was that guy really begging you to get in deeper?"
I laughed. "No one could act worth a damn. All the dialog was from the heart," I said.
Five days later, I was getting off a plane at LAX. Maury had sent Edith Minor, a dialog coach, to meet me and take me to my hotel. We talked as a drove to Hollywood.
After a few minutes, she said, "I thought Maury was crazy bringing you in. Damn it, he was right. You have just the right accent," she said.
"I thought I was losing it," I said. "Some friends say it has mellowed."
She laughed. "Take my word for it; it is memorable. He said you are a detective too?"
"Yep. I am a good undercover type guy. I have the gift of being forgettable," I said. "What are these pranks like?"
"Most are little nasty notes left on a desk. Someone fiddled with my desk chair and it collapsed," she said. "Things break and fall over. The coffee machine shorted out and gave a copywriter a nasty shock before it caught on fire."
"Were you hurt when the chair broke?"
"Nope, but the cleaning lady was hurt. She was going to call home and sat in my chair. She was badly bruised," Edith explained.
"Is it an inside job?"
"That would be my guess," she replied.
"Any demands being made?"
"There are some nasty notes, but no demands to my knowledge," she said, adding, "Maury may be getting some, but he plays his cards close to his chest. He also does not always read his mail. There may be something in the mail he hasn't seen or noticed. Maury is driven and has all the grace of an out-of-control bulldozer. That is not a good way to make friends. By the way, he wants to meet you at dinner tonight. He will send a car to pick you up at 7:00.
She dropped me off at a 1960's type motel. It had been souped-up and was a popular and retro place. It was near the studio, so it was convenient. I checked in and the man at the desk checked me out. I was definitely not his type.
It was three in the afternoon. The motel had a pool and I went for a swim. The pool manager checked me out too. One part of me was his type. He introduce himself as Manny, and he was a muscleman. He told me he was an actor waiting for a break. Something about him gave me the impression it might be a long wait.
I told him I had just flown in from the East Coast and was going to meet with Maury Greenburg later. He was impressed.
"If you need to relax, I give great massages," he said. He was looking at my crotch so I knew what he wanted. I told him I might take him up on that later.
At 7:00. Edith appeared and took me to Maury's house. The modern and extravagant house was in the hills overlooking the city. Floor to ceiling windows opened onto a terrace and a spectacular view. It sure didn't shout out the hills of Virginia. Edith told me it was an informal event, but I saw the tee shirt Maury was wearing must have cost a few hundred dollars. My Polo shirt cost fifteen, but it was at an end of the season half-price sale.
He was with Rocky Masters, a star who specialized in Hillbilly car movies, Johnny Wells, an up and coming teen heartthrob and Phil George. Phil had been a heartthrob thirty years earlier. He was now bearded, a bit heavy and played character roles. The screenwriter, Jason Holliday and an accountant named Saul completed the group.
Five minutes later Brenda Beaumont arrived. She was a rising star and was really pretty. She wasn't wearing much makeup and I realized she was more than pretty. I looked out of place, but after a few minutes, all was well. I have deep voice and a South-West Virginia accent. It is a Southern accent but not the rustic, hayseed type accent you hear in hell-raising, redneck movies.
I could slip into a trailer trash accent, but Mom and my relatives were solid middle class, hardworking people. The movie, "High Water," was about a family surviving the depression. It was set in a mill town, dominated by one mill and built below a weak dam. It was to combine themes of personal heroism and corporate greed. Most of the actors were trying to break out of their stereotypical characters and move up the status ladder.
"Our problem is that the thing is turning into "The Beverly Hillbillies Save a Village," Jason explained. "The plot is fine and dramatic enough, but the ambiance is wrong."
"I don't know if mill towns had an ambiance," I said. "Maybe they have a mood or an atmosphere, but ambiance suggests white wine."
Jason laughed. "I kind of think no one drank white wine for another forty years in that sort of town. I would guess it was beer and bourbon," Phil said. "I would assume there was some homemade brew."
"My Dad drank beer and brought out Bourbon for guests. That would be for his uncles and maybe a neighbor if it was a special occasion," I said. "Mom was a nurse so they both worked long hours. There wasn't much time left for serious drinking. My uncles and aunts tended to be frugal. Drinking cost money so it wasn't regular."
We talked quite a bit about small town life. Most of them were product of suburbia. Rocky and
Phil were good mimics. They began to pick up on my accent and mannerisms. Edith was a human tape recorder; she caught every intonation of my speech patterns.
Edith had a call and had to go home. Phil said he would take me to my motel. I did find out more about the prankster. Maury's understanding of the situation was limited. He was excitable and it was easier for the staff to keep quiet about the pranks than tell him about them. I had the feeling that the pranks were getting out of hand.
Phil and Saul took me back to the motel. Saul was a quiet man who sat in the background and I had barely talked with him.
"Saul is the man who discovered you," Phil said. "He saw you in that video and he liked what he heard."
I laughed. "No one had ever mentioned the sound track before," I said.
"When I saw the video, I didn't notice that either," Phil said. "For a small guy who is hairy like a chimp, one part of you is memorable. I hope I don't offend."
I laughed again. "I am pretty realistic about my charms. I don't get offended. Are you a size queen?"
"I'm the size queen," Saul responded. "I had never seen one as big as yours."
"Saul likes things kosher. He wants to see it, but he's a bit shocked that your uncut cock turns him on so much," Phil said. "I'm his wing man."
"You want some show and tell?"
"That want Saul wants. I think he would like more, but the kosher thing might get in the way," Phil explained. "He wants me to be with him in case he needs some help. I told him shit no; he can suck his own cocks. Saul is gay as a goose; I dabble in man sex once and a while. When I met you, I sort of reconsidered that. You aren't my type, but you are an interesting guy."
By then, we were at my motel. I asked them in for a beer. I didn't expect that. It just came out of my mouth. Both men were game. I picked up a six-pack at a convenience store next door and we went to my room. The men were nervous.
"If you saw the video, you know I'm not the shy type. I don't mind a little show and tell, but everyone needs to show," I said. "Is that a problem?"
"Shit no!" Phil replied as he stripped off his shirt and dropped his pants. He went commando. I followed suit; Saul brought up the rear. In his younger years, Phil was often cast as a shirtless surfer, beach bum, or gladiator. He was much thicker now and had a gut, but his fur had thickened too. He had wavy, dirty blond hair.
Saul was muscular and toned, but curly black hair covered him from below his collar to his toes. He was a gorilla. Phil sported a cut beer can with a big mushroom; Saul had a cut, teaspoon type cock with an almond shaped knob. We all liked the scenery.
When Phil saw my cock, he dropped to his knees and he was not shy and knew what to do next. Phil had told me that he dabbled in man sex once and a while. His dabbling apparently was successful. He was an enthusiastic and skilled cocksucker. Saul had been uneasy, but when Phil stepped up to the plate, he relaxed. He could watch and enjoy.
If you are a size queen, my cock has an allure. That allure does not diminish when it gets hard. I have a lot of foreskin, but it pulls back when I am fully erect. I tend to be an equal opportunity sucker. When a man sucks me, I return the favor and take care of his needy organ. I don't think of myself as a great cocksucker, but no one has ever complained. Once a man is excited, I have no problem pulling his trigger and taking his personal cream.
When Phil needed a breather, I took care of his cock. I like doing that anyway, but I like to show my playmate I am a good sport. Phil was oozing already. I sucked him and milked his sweet and creamy precum from his balls. I also played with his balls and my finger strayed toward his asshole. He did not seem to mind that at all. I suspected that his ass had participated in his dabbling.
As I pondered Phil's sexual potential, I neglected Saul, who was watching. He was uneasy about my uncircumcised cock. When I am fully erect, the foreskin peels back and stretches thin. He saw my erect cock as I sucked Phil. You could not tell I was uncircumcised.
I have a warm spot for size queens for obvious reasons. They have an urge, or perhaps a fetish about large cocks. It not logical or rational. It is a compulsion. I would guess that my cock both attracted and repelled Saul. Sex being what it is, while he may have been repelled, he was also looking for a way to overcome that repulsion. As is the case with most sex, he wanted to get closer and experience it directly. Maybe he pretended he wanted to just look at it closely, or touch it. I knew that eventually he would desire a more intimate connection. Now that I was fully erect, he could pretend I was cut. That was the excuse he needed.
I had a feeling Phil's dabbling with man sex included Saul. They were close enough for Saul to show Phil the porn video. I knew the video was not for the dabbler in man sex. It was heavy-duty man sex with no holes bared. There were a lot of close-ups of cocks ramming tight holes.
Phil and I broke apart and Saul dropped to his knees. He opened his mouth.
"I ooze a lot," I said. "Is that a problem?" Saul did not say anything but his cock twitched. He wrapped his lips around my exposed knob. I could sense his tenseness, but after thirty seconds or so, he relaxed. This had happened before when some Baptist boys sucked me for the first time. They could relax once they realized they were not going to be struck by lightning sent from on high.
Saul's tongue caressed my knob. A little later it found my cum slit and he tasted my man ooze. He shivered and twitched again. I have a nice wide slit and he soon was trying to intercept the ooze. I like it fresh too and I understood what he wanted.
"Saul was turned on and scared by you," Phil said. "He's a New Yorker and he doesn't have much experience with hillbillies."
"I'm not a hillbilly!" I protested.
Phil laughed. "You are compared to the guys in the lower East Side," Phil replied. "Saul and I are pals with benefits. Sex is purely recreational for us. We have watched our share of porn, but your fuck video was the first time I have seen Saul get really turned on. His ass is virgin."
"Is your ass virgin?" I asked. Saul was a good sucker I was getting excited.
"I guess you could say I'm a semi-virgin," he replied. "I've never been fucked sober."
I laughed. "I know some guys like that. Most of them got drunk regularly and usually with the same guys. I assume Saul is one of your tops?"
"How did you know?" Phil asked. "I usually take a cock in the ass to be polite. With Saul, it is different. That is embarrassing."
"I realized a long time ago that I'm not in control of my genitals," I said. "My cock and ass seem to have their own needs and desires. I am basically a top, but I've had some really good times doing a fancy dance on another guy's fuck tool. I can tell you from my own experience that you can have a much better time if you forget to be embarrassed and go with the flow. If you are a mostly straight man in bed with a gay guy, it's best of you let yourself be gay for an hour or until whenever you shoot off. Trying to be macho when you are sucking a load from a pal's cock is a turn off."
"Is the same thing true when a pal is in your ass?" Phil asked.
"Maybe it's doubly true in that case," I said.
"Do you want to fuck Saul or me?" Phil asked.
"I'm usually ready to fuck anyone who is willing," I said. "I never shove it where it's not welcome. I like it when my playmate invites me into his body." As I talked, Saul hit stride and I unloaded my balls into his mouth. I felt him tense up at the first spurt, but by my third ejaculation, he had relaxed. I assumed he had missed a second bolt of lightning.
It was getting late. Phil and Saul left. Phil said a car would pick me up at 8:00. I was tired and fell asleep. Saul picked me up the next morning in his BMW.
He was worried. Eventually I discovered that Saul was always worried. "You won't tell anyone what I did last night, will you?" he asked.
"I don't kiss and tell, not to mention ejaculate and blab about it," I said.
"Phil is my only playmate here. He won't tell either," Saul said. "No one knows he does that sort of stuff either." I told him not to worry, but I didn't mind a little fun once and a while. I liked sharing recreational interludes with other men. I did not tell him that I was surprised that he and Phil were worried about that in wild and crazy Hollywood.
At the studio, I went to meet the screenwriter, Jason, and looked over the script. Edith joined us. I got rid of the "hee-haw," the "see-ment pond" and the "gul-darn-it" references. Jason was a smart man, but his links to Appalachia were minimal. His idea of rural was the California wine country. He did not understand the difference between a schoolteacher's accent and a working man's twang. There was also a difference between nice folks and trailer trash.
I wasn't sure he knew the difference between poorly educated people and ignorant jerks. I also explained that while a man might use fuck as a verb, noun, adverb and conjunction when talking to a buddy, it would be different if a schoolteacher was present. Jason was a fast learner, and he understood what I was telling him.
Several actors dropped in as we talked about the script. Brian Turner was an older man who would be playing the local factory owner. He understood what I was saying. He assumed he would have one manner with his men and another with his family.
We were chatting when a fire alarm went off. People just stood around for a few seconds and then I said, "It's time to get out." I opened the door to the corridor and I smelled smoke and the acrid smell I associate with an electrical fire. We went by some offices where employees were still working.
I had been a cop and I used my, "obey me or face the consequences," voice to get them moving. That helped, but Maury appeared and ordered people to get out. His message was, "Keep calm and get the fuck out."
The staff was accustomed to obeying him and they left. The building was sprinkled, but the sprinklers didn't seem to be working. The emergency lights were not functioning either. By now, smoke was billowing along the ceiling of the corridor. Just after we got out, there was an explosion inside the building. By then, there were maybe a hundred people in the street. Fire Engines appeared and cooler heads forced everyone away from the building so they could make room for the firefighters.
A second explosion blew part of the roof away and flames shot high into the sky. Debris fell on us. Most was paper and building insulation, but there were some larger pieces. I had a strong feeling the fire was suspicious. The building had modern fire protection and they were not working.
The fire department was efficient and well organized. The hole on the roof was a godsend. They were able to use it to get directly to the fire. Maury was getting his people to make sure that everyone was out of the building. The receptionist who checked in everyone had that information on a laptop. She was an old-fashioned, battle-ax type who insisted that everyone check in or out with her. She was the sort of woman you obeyed. That solved many problems. She also had all the home and cell numbers of the employees on the same laptop. Two people were missing, a janitor and a PR person.
The Firefighters found the PR man at his desk, dead. He apparently had a heart attack. Later that day, they found a body, burned beyond recognition. I told Maury that I thought there was something wrong with the fire. Someone had turned off the valves that fed the sprinkler system and disabled parts of the alarm and emergency light system. I told my suspicions to the Fire Marshal. He was unimpressed.
Jason came up to me and asked me to come to his apartment and we could work on the script there. "Maury's not the kind of man who would let a fire disrupt a schedule," he explained. I went with him and his assistant, a young man named Travis.
Jason lived fifteen minutes away in an older Spanish style house enveloped in semi-tropical greenery. Travis had his laptop. His job had been to keep a record of our meeting and all the changes in the script.
It was a hot day and we all smelled of soot and smoke. Jason suggested we take a dip in his pool. Thick vegetation screened the pool. Jason and Travis stripped and jumped in. Apparently, skinny-dipping wasn't a problem.
It turned out that they had seen my video and wanted to check out the merchandise. Jason was slim and shaved smooth. Travis was pretty boy, but he was also an otter. He had a closely cropped beard. He had well-manicured chest hair and a treasure trail to his bush. Neither man had a tan line.
"Travis liked your video allot," Jason said. "He has a taste for bad boys."
"Do you share that taste?" I asked.
"Not at all," Jason replied. "When I saw you yesterday, I was shocked. Of course, I recognized you from the video; you are hard to forget. I have no idea how he found you."
"I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not a bad boy," I said. "I'm just an ugly man with a donkey dong."
"I thought you were one of those oddly sexy repulsive men. You seem to have a double dose of manly characteristics all wrapped up in an unappealing package," Travis said. "Now that I have met you, you aren't repulsive at all; ugly, but not repulsive."
"My charitable friends said that I have non-standard attractiveness," I said. "In the back of my mind, I suspect my cock is the focus of my attraction." Travis came over to me and began to suck my cock.
"Jason, how close are you two?" I asked. "I would hate to be a home wrecker."
"We don't play solo on the side, but threesomes are fine," Jason said. "Travis's bad boy interest can get him into trouble. If I am there, I can keep him out of trouble. I am a bottom, but sometimes Travis likes the wild side. It's a different sort of release."
"Given my druthers, I am a top, and sex with me is all sweaty and sticky. Somehow I get the impression that you like sex neat and tidy," I said. "I have no problems with group play, but the sex can get intense. Some guys get uneasy when their partner is squirming on my cock and squirting his man seed all over the room."
"Maybe I could be in the middle?" Travis volunteered. Jason looked shocked, but his relaxed cock turned hard.
Travis was a born sexual athlete, and had been a gymnast. He was limber, flexible and eager. Those qualities applied to his ass. It was a tight fit, but he was receptive and open. Jason seemed to regard his lover with amazement as my cock vanished into the tight hole.
Travis was impressively erect when he eased his cock into Jason's behind. Once he was in deep and they were comfortable, I reentered Travis. It was a perfect fit for the three of us. When I shot off, I felt as if my cock was filling Travis's ass and then he filled Jason's needy hole. It was a total success.
Travis fell asleep. I looked at Jason. "If you are in the mood, could I shove Travis's cum deeper into to you?" I suggested.
"You are awfully big," he whispered. That is not a no.
"Sperm is a great lubricant," I said. Jason rolled over and spread his legs. He was tight, but once my knob caresses his prostate, he opened wide. It was a pleasant afternoon.
The next morning the Fire Marshall called me. He had contacted Richmond and found out I had cracked a big arson ring years earlier, and that I was a detective with a good reputation. I don't think the Fire Marshall had guessed that. The reviews must have been impressive.
"You are inside the studio and have access to people on a daily basis. Are you willing to share any information you might find?" he asked.
"My job is to find bad guys, not protect my client's reputation," I said. "I have no problem sharing information. By the way, I have no desire to get credit for arrests. It is a lot better for me if the bad guys never realize I am involved. I don't look like the detective type."
"The Richmond people said you were helpful and didn't get in the way," he said. We talked for a while and I told him about the pranks.
"Do you think this is a prank?" he asked.
"I doubt it, but some pranks tend to grow and get out of hand," I said. "Is it going to be arson and man slaughter or murder?"
"What makes you think it might be murder?" he asked.
"Somehow the phrase, burned beyond recognition, sets off alarms in my mind," I said.
"His head had been bashed in before the fire," Dan said. "He was a Mexican, was well liked and had five kids. He had worked for the studio for ten years. That doesn't fit an arsonist's profile."
The next morning the office had relocated in another building and it almost was business as usual. All the studios paperwork and records were backed up on a remote computer. Maury had a super tech department. A high-flying hedge fund had gone belly-up a few months earlier. Maury got their furniture at 20 cents on the dollar. Arsonists like to see the confusion and destruction created by their acts. Being back in operation the next day robs them of that satisfaction.