Catfish Meets Henry 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 or bldhrymn@aol.com
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Henry Bowell is a stunningly handsome man. He was muscular, with a handsome face, dirty blond hair and a killer smile. He was born to be a male model. That didn't happen. Henry is five-feet-three and has a lisp so pronounced that it is almost another language. The phrase flaming faggot could have been invented for him.
I met him years ago. I am exactly like him in height and nothing else. I usually look like something the cat dragged in. We are alike in one other way; we are both hung like a horse. We are casual friends but when we met we finally connected we were stunningly compatible sexually. Nothing that involved sexual organs or activities was anything other than mind blowing.
We were young; we were fucking like sex-crazed rabbits, but we both knew it was only sex. We liked each other enough, but he wasn't Mr. Right. He and I knew it. For the last few decades we connected every few years. It was always great sex, but the connection lasted only as long as the erection. Once we were soft, it was over.
He became a decorator in Charlotte with his partner Bull. Bull's real name was Frank Bullifant, but he was built like a bull and looked like a bull. He wasn't pretty, and Henry was the love of his life. He designed and built hand-made furniture and was very successful. He could build museum quality reproductions, but his own designs were exhibited in galleries.
Henry's designs were more decorative, but he had a knack for making other persons' designs come alive. A good design became a great design when he picked the accessories and wallpaper. As Henry said, "Superficiality sells!"
I hadn't seen Henry in five years when he came by my office. He was unaware that I had lost a leg. I didn't know Bull was dead, a murder victim. He had been killed in a mugging gone bad. That set off an alarm in my head. Bull was a big, muscular man. Muggers go after 100-pound weaklings. I had been mugging bait for years and I know muggers well.
The police thought it was a run of the mill mugging. Bull's wallet and credit cards were gone, as was his phone. They left his Rolex and gold cufflinks. A second alarm went off. Muggers know the value of wearable objects. Bull had been killed with a single blow of a blunt object, probably a pipe.
Had it been a mugging gone bad, the killing would have been accidental and such murders are usually messy. The mugger is surprised by the resistance and flails out. Bull was also hit on the back of his head. To me it was clearly a hit, an intentional murder.
Henry was shocked and devastated, but Henry was no fool. He knew something was wrong. Henry also liked revenge.
The police were uninterested in the case. The lead investigator was clearly second string. Perhaps more importantly, the city had a serial killer hunting for young girls. For a police department that sort of case is a black hole for resources. Henry wanted to know if I could help him.
I was semi-retired and short one leg so my options for detective work were limited. I have no skills with paper work, and my office was appreciative of that. I wasn't sure how I could help. Henry suggested that I visit him and do some nosing around. I told him I like to be undercover. Staying with the victim's lover is pretty open.
"I have a pal who could put you up. He's a nice guy and was one of our friends. I'm sure he would help," Henry suggested. "There is one problem. Some think he over sexed and aggressive."
"What do you think?" I asked.
"I know he's over sexed and insatiable," Henry replied. We laughed. I said I'd do it, if it was okay with his friend. We went to my apartment upstairs and had a beer. We talked about old times. He told me that I had taught him the difference between the love that occurs during hot sex and real love. "I think you always knew the difference," he said.
"Did I hurt you?" I asked.
"Well your cock opened my ass wider that it had ever been before. I loved that. You let me down gently emotionally," he said. "Bull wasn't as spectacular sexually, but he was easy to love and live with."
I don't know how it happened but eventually we ended up in bed and my cock was back in his ass. It was a good as it had been years earlier. When he left, he thanked me. He said he didn't know if he could still feel after Bull died. He felt like a slutty thirty-year-old again. We laughed, I felt a little of the old Henry emerging again.
I talked with some pals at he Richmond Police and found the name of a Charlotte contact who might be helpful. I called him, and he was understanding. The serial killer dominated the news, but some of the police thought the mugging story was thin and improbable.
A week later I was met at the airport by Henry and his pal Logan. Logan was a six-foot-tall, bearded, Marlboro type man. When he talked he was more like a randy Santa Claus. Logan was a well-known set designer. He had a three-man operation and having a "cousin" visit was a regular occurrence. "Cousin" was the phrase used for his current true love. There was only one common characteristic for a cousin, he had to have a cock and he didn't last long.
Henry was well organized and had been hunting for a motive. Bull was a furniture maker and that was not a profession that created many enemies. They lived well, Bull owned the house and took care of finances. He played around some, as did Henry, but they were frank about their sexual contacts and shared them from time to time.
Bull was estranged from his family because he was gay. He rarely talked about them, other than visits from a niece, Mary and his brother Jeff. Henry checked into the family and was surprised at what he found. Bull was more than well off, he had an old trust fund from a grandfather of about a million. If he died without issue, the principal of the fund revered to his brothers and sisters, but the money that had accumulated as interest and investments were Bull's to do with whatever he wanted. Henry was not into finance, and he was shocked to find that the fund was now worth five to six million.
The trust fund also included 1,000 shares of a family owned business. His brothers and sister each owned 33% of the stock. Bull owned the controlling shares of the company. Henry had inherited the house, and the interest and income from the trust, but he couldn't remember the rest of the will. Logan knew a good lawyer and he said he would contact him for Henry.
There was one other bit of interesting information. The will had been written 20 years earlier. Bull had added Henry to the will five years earlier. It was hand written, but properly witnessed. The brother and sister did not know about the new clauses. I realized that Henry might be in danger.
We went out to dinner in an expensive restaurant, and Henry went home, and I went with Logan. Logan was twice my weight, but his personality seemed even larger. His house had three bedrooms but only one shower. It was a gym type gang shower and it served all three bedrooms. I must have looked surprised when I saw the arrangement. The shower was large, had grab bars and marble benches. There was a sling in an alcove. It was a sexual playroom.
"I don't usually have platonic relations with my house guests. "If you like to shower alone, just tell me," he said.
"I think platonic relationships are overrated, but I haven't had enough of them to really know," I replied, smiling. Logan grinned.
A little later I went to my bedroom and took a shower. As soon as I turned on the water, Logan appeared. He took one look at my cock and said, "Henry didn't tell me about that!"
I smiled and said, "I hope that doesn't ruin your evening's plans."
"It changes them, but it changes them for the better," he replied. Logan was not shy was able to support me while sucking my cock. He seemed to be bigger naked than he had been dressed. He was a Polar Bear and was covered in white body hair. There was a marble bench next to the shower head. I sat on it and sucked his tool. It had seemed modest when I first saw it, but that was an optical illusion. His body was so big seven and a half inches of cock seemed small.
We got to know each other and our genitals, and he stopped. "I have a pal who would think he had died and gone to heaven if he saw you. Would you mind if I asked him over?" he asked. "I know that's tacky and I hope I haven't insulted you, but he's a size queen's size queen!"
"Well, I guess it's okay. I have sort of a fondness for size queens," I said. He left the shower and made a call. The doorbell rang less than five minutes later. His friend must have stripped while walking towards the shower. Adam, his friend, was a spare and elegant otter. With a well-groomed black beard, and a thick pelt, the hair disguised his toned swimmer's body.
He was beautiful, I wondered if becoming hot and bothered squirming on a cock in his ass would ruin his good looks. That was not a problem.
Adam was moderately experienced, but was more of the modern, cyber bottom. He jerked off looking at the big cocks online.
"Holy shit! Is that the real?" he exclaimed. He dropped to his knees and gently took my foreskin into his mouth. He shivered in excitement.
"Peel back the wrapper and taste the real meat," I suggested. He did as he was told. He licked the head and shivered again when he encountered precum at the slit. He looked up at me and then tried to get his tongue into my slit. Let's just say he like what he found. I knew he wanted it in his ass, but wanting and taking aren't the same thing. Sometimes young guys have bigger dreams than assholes. Desire and anatomy don't always match.
I was uneasy, but Logan slipped his cock into Adam without warning. Adam tried to deep throat me as Logan went deep.
"I've known Adam for a while. He was a one-night-stand and then became a friend with benefits. We are now friends, fuck-buddies, Logan said. "I also recruit for him. He's timid about picking-up men. He likes men who are a bit rough, you might say rustic, but he can't tell the difference between a diamond-in-the-rough and a sadist. He's had some poor experiences. I convinced him to let me recruit for him. I know all the danger signs for a dangerous man. His ideal man is ugly and hung."
"You think I am ugly?" I asked.
"Let's just say you are unconventionally attractive," he replied.
"Shit, sometimes I scare myself when I look in the mirror in the morning," I said. "Adam, have you ever had a man as ugly as me cum in you?"
"Nope, but I'm willing. I've taken cum a few times in the mouth," he said.
"Some men have choked when I came in their mouth. It neater when I come in the ass, unless I churn it up some." I said. "Now, if Logan drops a load in you it is smoother for me, but messier."
"This isn't your first time? Is this a gang bang?"
"Gang bangs need four or five men. This is more like friendly co-operation. There are three of us. there are a lot of combinations," I explained.
"What would you like?" Logan asked me.
"I'm opened minded and agreeable. I rarely say no to sex," I said. While Adam was reserved, Logan was more than open to any possibilities. He helped me get in the sling, then guided Adam to straddle me and impale himself on my cock. Adam was a bit reluctant.
Logan was a realist. "Catfish is a natural wonder. You are a size queen. If you don't give it a try, you will regret it for years. His cock will be the fish that got away!" he explained. "If you sit on it, you are in charge. You decide how much of it you can take and how quickly you can take it. Just relax, sit back and your ass will tell you if it's too much." Adam sat back. Logan had a bottle of poppers and gave him a sniff.
Adam was sitting on me with my cock at his sphincter. When the poppers hit, the sphincter relaxed, and I popped through. A second later my knob rammed his prostate; he moaned and in another second is ass sat on my pubes. He was fucked.
Adam arched his back and bounced a little. "I feel like I've been fucked by Godzilla!" he moaned. He was facing me. His cock had wilted at first but was now rock hard. I stroked his tool.
"What are you going to do with me?" he asked.
"Well, I was thinking I may explore your ass and then lubricate it with my special sauce. I wouldn't mind eating your cum, but that is difficult in this position. If you want, we can try different positions and see if you like some more than others."
Over the next hour-and-a-half we did a lot of exploring. Adam got up and fed me his oozing cock while Logan fucked me. Then Adam screwed me as Logan did him and left a deposit. As I had guessed, Logan's sperm was a good lubricant. I went deeper, and Adam was relaxed enough to enjoy it. I went to bed, but at sometime during the night, Adam joined me. I woke when I shot off in his mouth. Apparently, he had been nursing my cock to an orgasm. I remembered some pleasant dreams that may have been his doings. We had breakfast and they went off to work, I went to a coffee shop and met up with my police contact, Hillyard Miller.
Hillyard was not exactly a cop. He was the liaison between the Clerk of Records and the Police. He looked like a scarecrow, but that may have been due to his ill-fitting, baggy clothes. He was tall and thin. He wore is late father's suits. His father had been tall and heavier.
He had access to all the deeds, wills, property transfers and other official records. That sounds mundane and boring, but almost everyone has a paper trail of records. I took me a few minutes to realize that Hillyard was obsessive and detail oriented. He also had official access to most records and informal access to the rest. Hillyard was the only one who knew where many of the records were kept.
Hillyard knew Bull. No one knew that since the knowing was sexual and no one thought Hillyard had a sexual life. I told him Henry was an old friend. Hillyard knew what that meant. I later found out that on his birthday, Bull and Henry shared him and Hillyard injected a sperm present into Bull's ass. That was the high point of Hillyard's sexual life.
Hillyard knew there was something wrong with Bull's murder. I explained the complex will. That was in a different county and interested him greatly. Hill knew that Bull was doing a big project for a house in Avalon Gardens, an exclusive subdivision. It was near a house built for Frankie Smithson, who was suspected of being mob connected. Bull liked photography and took multiple photographs of his projects. These might have included parts of Frankie's property. Hillyard remembered Bull commenting on the strange people visiting the neighboring site.
I went back to his office, and he made inquiries about the will. Hillyard was a very helpful man, and many policemen owed him. He went off to look for something and I sat in his office. When I went to the men's room he was there. We exchanged the official gay man's greeting, wiggling my cock to make sure the last drop was in the urinal. He was tall and could see over the screen between the fixtures. It took a while to get my cock on the dark side of my zipper, my crutches provided the excuse for the show. Hillyard liked the display.
I then went to visit Bull's office-workshop. I met Bull's craftsmen, Toby, Oliver and Missy. They were skilled craftsmen but were not designers. Henry was a decorator, but the office manager, Lucy was a shark. Henry said she was like a shark without a tender side. When Bull was murdered she had contacted upscale furniture dealers and had orders for Bull's designs. Toby, Oliver and Missy had work for at least three or four years.
Lucy had a difficult personality, but Bull and Henry were tolerant of other peoples' quirks. She was hard but fair with material suppliers and dealers. If you produced what you were supposed to and on schedule, she would hand you a check on the spot. That was an endearing characteristic for most suppliers who often had to wait months for payment. There were no financial irregularities in the firm. Lucy was not to the Manor born. She didn't believe the mugging theory at all. "They left a fucking Rolex! No self- respecting mugger would leave that!" she said.
"Maybe they thought it was fake," I suggested.
"Those muggers associate with the people who sell the fake Rolexes. There is no way they could be tricked," she explained.
Henry and Logan were busy for dinner that night. Lucy gave me the name of a good restaurant that was near the taxi garage. I could get a taxi to Logan's without difficulty. She gave me the name of the dispatcher and told me to mention her name if there was a problem.
The Tuscany was a good Italian restaurant. Hillyard was there, sitting at a table alone. He saw me and waved me over. He must have been a regular, and when he had a guest the staff was all atwitter. It was a family owned place and the food was excellent. A young boy was staring at me from the kitchen door. He finally built up his nerve, came over and asked what happened to my leg. It told him some one had shot me, and they had to cut the leg off.
At that point, his mother realized he wasn't in the kitchen. She had raced out and reached the table just as I had mentioned amputating the leg. She and eventually her husband, the chef, were profuse in apologies. I told them that kids were curious and there were worse things than being curious. The boy thought I had said they shot off the leg. I told him that I had interrupted several men attacking a woman, and one of the men had shot me in the leg. They took me to the hospital and had to remove the leg.
I told them it was next to a restaurant like theirs and the police had to keep the kitchen crew from chopping off parts of the attackers. The boy asked, "Did Rodolfo used to work there?" The parents burst into laughter.
"No, Rodolfo would have scared them away with his bad temper!" his mother said. They all laughed and gave us a free desert. Hillyard said he would drive me home. When we were in the car he asked if I would like a night cap. I said a beer would be fine, but a blow job would be better.
"You noticed me in the men's room. I'm sorry," he replied.
"I like it when men admire my cock," I said, "There is no need to apologize." We went to his house which was clearly his parents' home. After a beer we went to the bedroom and got naked. He had a swimmer's body, shaved smooth.
"What do you like?" he asked.
"I like it all," I replied.
He took a little while for him to say something, then he asked in a near whisper, "Is there any chance I could fuck you? I don't get to do that often. Actually, I hardly ever get to do that."
I sat back on the bed, pulled my leg and a half up to expose my hole. I then asked if he had some lube. Sometimes when you have no expectations about a guy, you are pleasantly surprised.
"I'm really close," Hillyard said as he pushed his cock into me.
"Go slow and see if you can make it last," I said.
"Is that what they call edging?" he asked.
"If you are lucky, it is," I answered. Hillyard was a fast learner.