Catfish Retires 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 or bldhrymn@aol.com.
F.Y.I You might look for Catfish Looks for Loot for some background on this story.
I was surprised to run into Detective Miller at the Club. He was nude and came over with two friends, one was maybe 45 and the other 30 or so. I had seen them when I was interviewed. We talked a little and I noticed that Miller was much taken by the younger man. Miller and the younger man left. The older guy sat next to me.
"You're the Crutch of Death man?" he asked, "I'm George, I'm working on tracing the thief's movements."
"I'm Catfish. I guess the Crutch of Death man is better than crippled dwarf," I said. "Good to meet you," I added as we shook hands.
George took a long, good look at my cock. "Part of you isn't dwarf like," he said. "I've never been here before. My divorce came through on Monday. I am nervous. I don't think my body is designed for display." George was still muscular but had gained some weight. He was clean shaven but had a hairy body.
I laughed. "I've been around, and you can see the wear and tear. I never was a dreamboat," I said.
"You have an impressive cock," he said off hand. "I'm sorry, I can't believe I said that. You must think I'm an ass!"
I laughed. "You aren't the first to notice," I replied. "Don't worry, no one has ever complained about complimenting is cock!"
We talked about the manuscript snatching. George said the snatcher made a stunning mistake. He used a credit card to pay for hotel stays. He had been at or near Ely, Peterborough, and Durham. I asked what that meant.
"They are cathedral towns like Wells," George replied. "Everyone knows about St. Paul's and Westminster Abby. Many smaller towns like Wells have a major Cathedrals."
"Are they as beautiful as Wells? More to the point, have they been robbed recently?" I asked.
"They are all impressive. Durham was the only one that knew they had been robbed. Ely did a search and found a missing Book of Hours. The Bishop at Peterborough has his entire staff on the search to see if something is missing," George explained. "You might be interested to know that Count Antonio Grasse recently bought a house near Ely."
"That is an interesting coincidence, isn't it?" I remarked.
"Detective Miller made the exact same comment," George said.
"Am I right in thinking that the title "Count" is rare in England?"
"Count Antonio seems to be Hungarian, but his family and fortune vanished during World War II." George replied. "Antonio was born in England. He has never even visited Hungary. He claims to run a fine art auction house, but there is no record of auctions. Antonio claims his corporation is registered in Liechtenstein. He is a slippery customer, it's hard for us to get a lead on him."
"I will see if I can do some checking," I said. "I assume Detective Miller smells something?" I asked. George nodded. As we talked, the men of the BBC seemed to have broken into couples and several groups. Lugg seemed to have found an admirer. Since most of the men were occupied, George leaned over and licked my cock. He was tentative and careful at first. I had a friend who claimed my cock oozed a magic potion that inspired sexual enthusiasm. I wasn't sure of that, but I did think my cock helped men find their secret inner slut.
George wasn't an Olympic medalist cock sucker, but he made up in sincerity what he lacked in experience. I felt like I was a kid again with one of my pals experimenting. We switched to a modified sixty-nine position, sucking him as he sucked my cock while he did push-ups. I have a warm spot for precum, and all of George's production facilities were in full operation. I thought George was in unexplored territory, but I knew he was getting close. I soon took his first load of the day.
We broke apart. I was still hard, and surprise of surprise, my popularity seemed to skyrocket. A bearded, small but muscular man came over. He introduced himself as Marcus Green.
"Is there any chance you are the man who saved the Gospel manuscript" he asked. I told him that was me. He was staring at my semi-erect cock.
Opting for the refined and subtle approach I asked if he was a size queen.
Marcus looked at me oddly, then burst into a smile. "I didn't think I was a size queen, but I'm reconsidering that," he replied. We talked. Marcus was working on a doctorate in Medieval English Illuminators. He was working on regional masters and thus was in Wells. As we chatted it suddenly became dark and cold. There was a cloud above us, and I could hear distant thunder.
Marcus lived next door and suggested we go to shelter there. Lugg, George, and I went to the house with several of Marcus' friends, Andrew, Marcus' partner, and an older man named Evelyn. As we got in the house the heavens opened with torrential rain. The house was small, but nice.
It did not require my high-powered detective skills to know Marcus's friends were gay. They had been elsewhere on the small, beach like area. One look at my cock and I became a member of the group. They were all doctorial or post doctoral students, mostly engaged in medieval studies. I was worried that Lugg and George were out of place, but they seemed to appeal to the men. Big and hung Daddy types tend to attract gay men.
Andrew was bigger and more bear like than Marcus. Evelyn owned a bookstore called Shakespeare and His Mates. He was about sixty and had a swimmer's body.
Andrew came over to me. "I hope Marcus isn't bothering you," he said. "He can be a pest when he's in love."
"Am I trespassing?" I asked.
"I used to think he was cheating a bit, but now he's mostly recruiting for our mutual pleasure," he said.
"As long as my pleasure is involved, I am fine with whatever develops," I said. "I'm not looking for Mr. Right, but Mr. Right Now would be fine."
"Guys tell me I'm sincere, but not very skilled," Andrew said.
I smiled. "I am skilled and experienced, and I can be sincere at least until I shoot off," I explained. Andrew broke out laughing. "That's good enough for me," he said. We all got along well.
Evelyn's book shop specialized in rare books. These were books that were of museum quality, not rare like the first edition of Spiderman. He was puzzled at the attempted robbery of the Gospel from the Cathedral.
"It is immensely valuable and important, but could never be sold, could never be displayed. It's too unique and easily identified. I suspect mental illness is involved," he explained. "I assume the robbers were not to the manor born?"
"I think the guys would regard council housing as an unattainable goal," George said who had overheard our conversation. "They are underlings with delusions of grandeur. I thought they were free lancing, but someone had to show them a picture of the book. There was no indication they knew what it was or what it was worth." he paused briefly. "Any ideas who might buy it?"
"It's very specialized. I would assume it is an Englishman, Canadian, or Australian. Collectors tend to like the books from their own country. The French like French works, Italians like their own works. They tend to regard illuminated works by other nationalities as inferior," Evelyn explained. "My own customers tend to be obsessive, but most want it for display or to fill a void in their collection. There is no reason to fill a void and not to let anyone knows you have done it."
"None of your customers might be involved?" George asked.
"You may not know my personal history," Evelyn said. "Years ago. I acquired a work which had improper provenance. That was before they had registries of missing works. I was proven innocent, but it was a dark period in my life."
"Was it something like the Hirsh Collection?" I asked.
Evelyn shuddered and then gave me a strange look. "Oh my god, was that you?"
I nodded.
"What in hell is the Hirsh Collection," George asked.
"It was a major art collection looted by the Nazi's and recovered by a person described as a hairy dwarf," Evelyn replied.
"A lot of people were involved in the recovery. I seem to have been the one people remember," I said.
"If I were going to describe you, I would say you are a hairy, horse-hung dwarf. I guess they didn't know about your cock?" George said.
"I heard about the cock too," Evelyn said. We all laughed. Evelyn told he would do some thinking and checking.
A little later Andrew came over to me. "This is the time of the day when the guys relax, and things get a little intimate. Is that a problem for you?"
"Nope," I said. "I'm pretty open minded about sex."
Andrew leaned closer to me. "I'm open minded too. I think you could say that about everyone here. We all give and take," he whispered. Lugg was always near with one eye on me. He made sure my bruised body was protected. George was also near. I was on my back on a couch and Evelyn fed me his cock. George was sucking me. I didn't know it was him, but he was good. I am not much of a butterfly kisses sort of guy, but he was good. Evelyn lost it. I took his load, and seconds later George fed me his cock. I took his second load. His balls had completely recharged, and[BW1][BW2] the orgasm was a good and plentiful as his first orgasm.
Marcus had been talking with Lugg. It was a one-way conversation, but Lugg understood. Marcus came to me and said they were going to relocate me on the floor which would be a more stable surface than the couch. They relocated me to a quiet corner a mat. The mat was thin, but more supportive than it looked. I was annoyed because don't like being treated as if I were breakable. I laughed to myself. After my recent history I should have realized that I am breakable, and a good portion of me was broken, injured, or removed.
On the floor, Andrew fed me his cock as Marcus sucked me. They were a good team and I suspected they and done this before. Andrew's cock drooled, twitched, and oozed. It seemed to be one step away from being able to talk.
Marcus stopped sucking me and I assumed another guy would take his place. A few seconds later, I felt an asshole sitting on my cock. It was Marcus impaling himself. It took a while, but Andrew was encouraging him. I knew that Andrew had a thick member, and that mine was thicker.
Lugg joined in supporting Marcus to make sure he didn't fall on me. Andrew was close enough to suck Lugg. A little later I tasted Andrew's cock drool react to Lugg's cock.
Two or three minutes later, Marcus had a massive fire works style orgasm. Lugg helped him to get off my cock and then helped Andrew sit on it.
"It may be too big, but I've got to try it," Andrew said. Where there is a will, there is a way. Lugg had fed me his cock. I have been in one or two group situations before, but somehow, I felt Lugg's cock was a friend. It leaked like a mountain stream. It was comfortable, reassuring, and still exciting. Actually, I was still happy that I could be excited by a new sexual situation with new men.
At first, I think Andrew underestimated his ability to take a big cock in the ass. Later, I could tell he greatly underestimated the sensation my cock generated. Marcus was watching and that could have been uncomfortable. I thought Marcus recognized that Andrew was much more sexually adventurous than he thought. I wonder if they had been timid in their explorations. Andrew seemed to have a nearly prehensile ass, especially his annus and sphincter.
While I was pondering the sexual possibilities, I forgot to keep my cock under control. A split second after my first ejaculation, Andrew's cock exploded. There was sperm everywhere. Marcus got most of the cum, licking it off my hairy body. In contrast Lugg unloaded with what seemed like a slow-motion climax flooding my mouth with his well-spaced ejaculations.
This seemed calm afterwards, but Evelyn seemed to like the post orgasmic drool from my cock. I apparently looked at George in a way to make him think I wanted another cock to suck. I sucked his cock and discovered that was exactly what I wanted.
The storm ended, but the sex continued. I am surprised at how sex seems to supercharge becoming friends. During the quieter interludes I learned a lot about illuminated manuscripts and about cathedrals. While Evelyn handled some early printed books, some were elaborately illustrated with wood cuts and engravings. I also learned about the rare books market. Illuminated manuscripts were a specialized part of the market. The book market was odd. If you found a man looking for the complete first additions of Perry Mason mysteries you hit paydirt, but that market was small. You might find the book for a dollar in a secondhand shop. First editions had value, but the first editions of a popular author might have been printed in the thousands.
Illuminated manuscripts are produced as a single book. Gospels and Books of Hours were more common than romances or histories, but all are rare. Many are owned by churches and would never be sold. The beauty of the works and their rarity made them valuable. While many of the most important works are well known, less know works are found in less well-known places. Thus, the effort to steal from Wells.
Later, I was back at the Choir Director's house. We had a good dinner, and I went to bed early. Stephen was nice enough to suck me awake the next morning. Dunstan came in and eased his cock into Stephen's ass. He enjoyed me shooting off in his mouth as Dunstan injected his sperm in his ass. Steven was a happy man.
The storm the day before had felled two trees in the garden of the bishop's palace, so Lugg was cleaning that up, with two of his friends, Mouse, and Denny. Mouse was my size and Denny was Lugg sized. The cook made lunch for them and I joined them. They had heard of me and I was sort of a celebrity. I told them of my adventures in Wells and explained my missing leg.
Mouse asked me if I regretted going after the rapist and losing my leg. I told him that I couldn't stand there and watch guys rape a woman. There were other guys and girls who joined in attacking the rapist. I was just unlucky, I explained. Denny didn't say much, but he was interested in the conversation.
"I saw the guy you caught talking to the guard, Mr. Delacour, the day before," Mouse said.
"Do you know him?" I asked.
"Mr. Delacour is mean, he tells me to go way," Mouse explained.
"Was he telling the man to go away?" I asked.
Mouse shook his head. "No, they were whispering about something," he said. Later that afternoon I asked Marcus what he knew about Mr. Delacour.
"Delacour is a failed doctorial student, who afflicts visitors to the library with his bad attitude. He thinks he's an unrecognized genius," Marcus explained.
"If he a genius why didn't he get the doctorate?" I asked.
"Delacour failed to footnote several key passages in his dissertation. In a remarkable twist of fate, one of the readers of the work, had been the author of the suspect passages," Marcus explained. "That is a big oops!"
"No recommendation that he revise and resubmit?" I asked.
"No, no, that is a fatal flaw. You can't recover from that," Marcus said. "I think he is a third cousin of the Bishop. He is a charity case." We talked a little longer. "By the way, I want to thank you for our interlude the other day. It was good. I was a little reserved. I didn't want Andrew to know just how good it was."
"I aim to please." I replied.
I went to my room and called George. I told him of the meeting of the thief and Delacour.
"I interviewed Delacour who told me he had never seen the thief before," George said. "I got the impression the Queen was little more than uppity parlor maid compared to his background."
"A good, down to earth kind of guy?" I asked.
George laughed. "I think we will bring Mr. Delacour in for some serious discussions," he said.
Late that afternoon George called. "Mr. Delacour wasn't at work today, and we found him loading luggage in his car. He was planning to take a long trip."
"What a surprise!" I said. "Are there any large deposits in his back accounts?"
"Are you a mind reader?" George asked. "It was in a bank account in Bristol. I would have been hard to find, except for the deposit slip in his wallet. It was for ? 50,000,00. It was drawn form a Swiss Bank. That might be a dead end."
I asked for the name of the bank and the account number. I told him I had connections. That seems like a nice day's work. I told Lugg to bring mouse to me. I told Mouse not to say a word about Mr. Delacour to anyone other than the police and to keep that information secret. I called Templeton and told him about the deposit slip and gave him the name of the bank.
"I know the bank," Templeton told me. "The Chairman had a little problem with an underaged girl. I helped him with it. I found out the girl was twenty-two and had an arrest record. It was still embarrassing. I made it go away."
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