Catfish Has a Death in the Family
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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I was at my apartment in Richmond when I had a call at 8:30 in the morning. It was Rev. Williams, the minister of my mother's church.
"Catfish, your mother died in her sleep some time last night," he said. "Margret Young went to pick her up for breakfast. When no one came to the door, she had a key and found her in the bedroom. You have my deepest sympathy."
Mom was 93, but he seemed in mostly good health and was still sharp as a tack. At 93, I knew she could die it hadn't occurred to me that she would actually die. I know that sounds stupid, but I knew it was possible; it just didn't seem probable.
Rev. Williams was a smart man. "You know she had everything preplanned, so there is little you need to do. Let me give you some time to take things in. I will leave you to adjust and I will call you back in an hour or so. Does that make sense to you?" he asked. I said yes. "Who should I notify there?" I asked.
"Catfish, this is a small town. Everyone knows. Don't worry about that," he said. "You do know if Presbyterian's had saints, she would have been one?"
"I know and for years I was considered to be a trial," I said.
"Not to her," he replied.
My Aunts and Uncles had all died so I called cousins. Buddy lived near my mother and he knew everyone. My mother was the last living member of that generation and he said they would all be at the funeral. I had to get home. Buddy sent his youngest son to pick me up. Randy was 30 and built like his father.
He was dressed in his farm clothes, but he had no problem with Richmond's traffic. He was taking over running his father's farm and had a degree in agriculture. He thought of my Mom as his grandmother. I had met him a few times at family events when he was a child. I went to the house. When I got there the neighbors, Sally and John, were weeding and pruning the garden. I knew they had been doing much of the work for years.
They wanted the yard and house to be exactly as Mom wanted it. Clara, a friend from church had been helping Mom with cleaning two days a week. She had come to make sure things were perfect. I would have stayed at the house, but the stairs were steep and had winders. I thought I could get up to the bedrooms, but Buddy arrived and told me that one death in the family was enough. I could stay with him.
We went to see Rudolph Maxwell, the funeral director. Mom had arranged and paid for everything. It would be closed casket. She said she didn't want people to remember her when she was dead but from when she was alive. That sounded like Mom. I went to meet Rev. Williams. He was new and young. Mom had arranged the funeral too. Mom had always said things are bad enough at a funeral without people being dreary. She wanted a short service, no eulogy and upbeat hymns. "Presbyterians can only be so upbeat, but the choir director knows what she wanted," he explained.
I went to Buddy's house. In small towns there seems to be a belief that the family of the deceased needs as much food as will fit in the kitchen. Buddy was the closest relative in town and had had been informally checking up on her two or three times a week. He did any house repairs and took her shopping, since she had driven a car since she was 80. Buddy's wife had left him years earlier. Since I was staying with him, the food needs of two unmarried men seemed to have doubled the required amount of food.
A lot of people dropped in to express their condolences, and we fed them all. That was a blessing since we managed to get rid of most of the excess food. Clara kept track of who gave what. Mom was good about thank you notes, and I was afraid she would haunt me if I failed to send them.
The next two days were busy, but everyone was nice. Mom was a good nurse and an even better friend. Randy, Buddy's son, thought of her as a mother figure, not just an aunt. After the funeral I had to check on her financial affairs and sell the house. She had some good antique pieces, but she got them after I left. Things had been tight after my father died young.
Uncle Jake had helped, but she was an independent woman. She paid him back. He second husband had been well off and he left her a large insurance settlement. Uncle Jake had no children, so he left her his estate. It was mostly property. She hadn't sold it and it had appreciated greatly. He spinster sister had also left Mom her estate.
It was complicated and confused so I stayed longer than I expected. I didn't want to burden Buddy. There was a nice motel in town, and Randy had a pal who needed some work. Thompson was a nice boy but lacked direction. He would be my helper and chauffeur. I would think sitting around waiting for me when I was in meeting, would drive you crazy. Thompson was well equipped to deal with just sitting around.
Mom had a good lawyer, Nelson White, and a good realtor, Johnson & Fredericks. Thompson sat in on the meetings.
Thompson's father had recently died. His father had properties in the same areas as Uncle Jake. Thompson, who usually had the expression of a rock, became interested. Thompson said his father's properties sold for a fraction of the prices Johnson mentioned. John Johnson, the realtor looked surprised. Mr. Johnson was not an emotional man. A good poker face is a good trait in his business.
I spent the night at the motel going over documents. Randy dropped by to chat. I wasn't expecting that. We had some small talk and then he mentioned the old Sheriff I had met years earlier. The Sheriff was one of Buddy's friends. The relationship between Buddy, Earl, the Sheriff and me was not platonic.
"You know Earl?" I asked.
"He died a few years ago, but he told me he liked you and you had shared some really pleasurable things," he said. "Dad and I are alike in many ways. I know and he knows, but we don't do anything together. I have my friends, he has his."
"Have any of your pals connected with him?" I asked.
Randy nodded. "George told me had a done it with him and Earl when he had been drunk. He said Dad was nice."
"Did that bother you?" I asked.
"Nope. I thought it might, but this was before I came out to Dad. It made things a little easier. George told me it was the first time he had taken it in the ass and enjoyed it. Dad told me he learned from a master, Cousin Catfish," Randy explained. "I'm kind of curious. George has done me, but he is not exactly a giant."
"Was it good?" I asked.
Randy nodded. "It was fine, but I'm sort of interested in something more intense. I was thinking we might get naked and see what pops up?"
He stripped and was a younger, more muscular version of his dad. His red hair was hard to see but I think he was hairy. I stripped and Randy liked what he saw, but I think he only noticed my cock and balls. As a pal said to me once, "Guys like your cock and eventually get to like the rest of you." That is sort of true, but the eventually can take years. When I'm dressed eventually can be years.
Randy's eventually was between ten and fifteen minutes. At ten minutes he was licking precum from my knob, and in fifteen minutes he was close to deep throating me. His precum reminded me of good times with his father. We had a nice rest period. Then I managed to skewer myself on his cock. Randy like that a lot and left a nice thank you load six inched in my ass.
He wanted me to fuck him, but I asked for a rain check. I told him my cock was best taken with fully loaded balls. He sucked me off and took my load with obvious enjoyment. When he left, he asked if he could come again? I told him would like that.
I had a meeting with the realtor, Temple Johnston III. He inherited the business from his father. He used his last name in business to avoid being called Temple Junior. He had all the properties with their assessment, zoning classification and list of comparable recent sales. It was crystal clear. We discussed the possible sale prices.
Many of these were inherited from Uncle Jake and Mom had just sat on them. I had no need for more money. Since Mom was a pillar of the Presbyterian Church, I thought the property might be good for them. I had noticed a display in the church of a potential daycare center. Johnson suggested that I talk with Rev. Williams.
Johnson also ask if I might talk with Thompson about his father's estate. "I have heard whispers about the firm his used," he explained. "They are just whispering but they all relate to low sale prices. The owner of the firm he used, Gilbert Grove seems to be living rather high on the hog," he said.
"Living well and low sale prices don't seem right?" I asked.
"I can't say that about a competitor," Johnson said. "Your mother said you were sharp as a tack," he added. I went to talk with Rev. Williams about the day care center.
Williams turned me over to his wife, Elise. She had been a teacher and now had three children. She and my mother had hit it off. Elise was a stunning, rather delicate, blond woman. She was also intelligent and had a will of iron. Day care in the area was either expensive or little more than a babysitting service. The Churches that provided services tended to provide it for their members of friends of members.
The people who needed the services the most were poor and minority. Many came from what Elise referred to as problematic backgrounds. Mom encouraged the proposed center made a pledge to pay for it. I told her I would make sure they received her pledge.
I ran into Buddy later that day. He was with Judge Smith. I asked them about Gilbert "I don't know much about Gilbert either," Buddy said. "He had a big house on a large farm he bought for a song from an estate sale. Somehow the wrong date was published in the newspaper. There were only three bidders."
"Out of town bidders nobody knew," the Judge added.
I tend to be a suspicious person anyway, but Buddy, Johnson and the Judge could not have been clearer. They smelled the smoke but had not yet found the fire. Finding fires was my specialty. I talked with them about Elise William's day care center.
"The need is clear, the funding is not," the Judge said. "Usually leadership is a problem, but I've played Bridge with Elise. She is charming, good to chat with, and she won every hand. My wife was impressed.
Later the night at the motel, Randy knocked my door with a guy named George in tow. I let them in. Randy was a handsome guy. George was forgettable and he had no memorable physical features.
"I made a mistake and told George about you. He wants to see it," Randy explained.
"I don't do show and tell, but I do like to suck and fuck, I hope George has lubricated his ass," I said. I am not noted for witty conversation, but I hit the right note for George and Randy. "Let's get naked and see what happens?"
There is room for two on my cock, so Randy took the right side and the cock head. George took the left side and the balls. When I was fully erect, George asked, "Can I try it on for size?" He had maneuvered Randy out of the way and straddled me.
He must have lubricated his ass earlier. He sat back and was balanced on my sphincter. Randy pinched his nipples. They were the buttons that opened his sphincter wide. A second later I was fully embedded. George looked dazed. He looked up at the ceiling. Somehow, I think he may have seen stars.
"Holy fuck, this is better than Coach Martin," he moaned. He began undulating his ass. that was when I realized George was more experienced that Randy had thought. My virgin days are long behind me. I could appreciate a well broken in ass.
"I've never seen George take another guy's cock before," Randy said. "He really likes it, doesn't he?"
"He sure does. Are you shocked?" I asked.
"I don't think so. I kind of think I'm turned on," he replied. "Are you going to shoot off in him?"
"I was thinking I would give you the grand prize. It's yours if you want it," I said.
"I think I would, No one has ever shot off in me before," Randy said. "I don't want to disappoint George though."
"I have a feeling Coach Martin has been using George as a cum dump," I said. "Am I right George?"
"How in hell do you know that?" George asked. He pulled off, so Randy could take his place.
It took some serious determination for Randy to take most of my cock. He was tight and eager. I shot off when I was two thirds in. I pulled out and we all rested. Thye dressed and left. I had a good night's sleep.
The next morning, I called Templeton and asked him if he knew anything about Gilbert Grove or Central Reality. Templeton wasn't in the real estate part of the bank, but Templeton always seemed to know people who knew something. The only thing I had to do was to meet with Mrs. Williams to discuss the childcare project.
I worked with many charitable organizations and was suspicious of well-meaning incompetent people. Wanting to help and being able to help aren't the same thing. Child care where small children are involved is not a simple thing. It requires skills and organization.
Elise Williams had a tentative board of high-powered church ladies, two ministers, a retired school principal and several businessmen. It was a racially mixed group. Large scale chicken farms had moved into the area and they had many Mexican and Central American employees. The Spanish born Catholic priest, Father Julien was worried about them, and thought the day care center could help. Rev. Williams spoke Spanish and they seemed to get along. I just listened to the conversation and was impressed.
After the meeting Father Julien offered to drop me off at my mother's house so I could go through the stuff she had accumulated. He asked me to dinner. He lived alone in the rectory and said he was always interested in dinner with anyone who wasn't interested in religion. I told him I understood. He would pick me up at six.
Mom had things mostly well organized. I found all the stuff related to her second husband in one place and all my family's documents in another. Her banking stuff was in a drawer. She had several accounts, so I called the lawyer and gave the account numbers to his office. Since she was the last surviving sister, she had estate information on them.
Father Julio arrived and he liked the house. He told me he lived in the Rectory next to the church and it served as the church office and classrooms. We went to dinner and he told me his story. He was from Madrid, and when he came to the United States he was assigned to a Latino parish. He was an assistant pastor for a church in Baltimore, and then was sent to our town.
"Madrid is not much like rural Virginia," he said. "Rev. Williams has been a lifesaver. I met your cousin Buddy and his son. They have been nice too. There are no farmers in Madrid." I told him the area had been all tobacco farms, and was in a decline until the modern, industrial type chicken and hog farms developed.
"The local farmers seem nice except for Hill Top Farm," Julien said. "They treat their workers badly." Over dinner Julio gave me a lot of detail on the problems at Hill Top Farm. It was interesting. When he dropped me off at the motel that evening, I called Buddy and asked him what the know about the farm.
Hill Top had belonged to Thompson's family for generations. It was the farm Gilbert Grove had sold at a bargain price. Maybe that was a co-incidence, but I run into damn few real co-incidences. Buddy wasn't interested in the real estate market, so he knew nothing about Gilbert.
I was tired and ready for bed when someone knocked on my door. It was George. "Catfish, can I talk to you for a few minutes?" he asked. I said sure and asked him in.
"I had a great time last night. Was I going it right? I couldn't tell I you liked it?" he asked. "I'm not experienced. Coach Martin wasn't the delicate type. I'm clumsy at almost everything I do. The guys who have fucked me before just said that my ass was a good place to hide their cum. I'm just their cum dump."
"You were fine, open and responsive," I said. "I've fucked some guys who were as responsive as a log. You were fine."
"Did you feel like you were slumming?" he asked.
"I just met you. I had no idea who you were, so I didn't have any preconceptions," I said. "I don't want to insult you, but as soon as my knob was caressing your sphincter, I knew all was well. It wasn't love, but it was a friendly reception. By the time I was all in, there was a brass band greeting me."
"I did okay?" George asked.
"You sure did. Now who would you really like in your ass, Randy?" I asked.
"Would it sound terrible if I said Buddy?" he asked.
"You like older guys? What was Coach Martin like?" I asked.
"He looked like Buddy. Coach Martin would have been okay if he had been a nice guy," George said.
"You are looking for a Father figure?"
"My Dad left us when I was four years old. I have no idea what he was like. You aren't quite what I thought a Dad would be like, until I saw your oversized Daddy cock," he said. "You must think I am dumb as shit."
"I will say that maybe your cock is doing more of your thinking than your brain. I have the same problem, but I'm old enough to know when the balance between brain and cock are out of whack," I said. "Most of the time. That is unless I get lucky." We talked a little longer, and he went home. I think he was more comfortable with himself.