Catfish Retires 7 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.
Sanssouci was a major clue. It apparently meant carefree in French and was a favorite name for summer homes, cottages, and retreats. It was Louis the something or others chateau. George called Scotland Yard and they contacted the French Police. The Count did not own the house. It belonged to Florian De Monte. He was already suspected of buying suspect art works.
The Gendarmes got someone into the house, she found a massive collection of stolen works and the house was searched by court order. Florian had vanished. Days later, all Europe was on the lookout for him. Corsica is an island in the Mediterranean Sea, and thus off the beaten track. The Corsican Gendarmes, like the Bath Police, were not going to be shown up by the big boys in Paris. They were efficient and effective. They found hundreds of masterpieces, most were European in origin, but Chinese and Japanese works were plentiful.
I would have thought that the number of works would overwhelm the police. It turned out to be a great adventure for hundreds of museum curators, art historians and graduate students. Adventures in art history are more common for Indiana Jones than the historians. This was an adventure for the historians who had a tendency towards anal retentiveness and obsessiveness. They could put these traits to good use as they tracked down paintings.
A number of museums discovered that works supposedly in their storage vaults were in Sanssouci. Since Florian De Monte was the main suspect the police and Templeton's contacts could concentrate on him. I got a call from my museum friends in Richmond. Years earlier they had recovered sixty percent of the Hirsch collection and were hoping to find more of it.
Nazi loot is attractive in some ways. It was stolen 74 to 85 years ago, so the trail was cold. Some of it was not well documented, and most of the people who had it were publicity shy. It certainly was the sort of art that was ideal for a crooked collector. Florian De Monte had all the traits of a collector of stolen art works.
Deal had been careful with his purchases of artworks, but the people who vetted the works were in his employ. He called me and asked if I knew some independent experts. I said no, but I knew someone who did. I called my museum friends, and they gave me a list. One name occurred on all the lists Sydney Dolan. A day later he was on the way to England as a consultant for Catfish & Company. He was to stay at the guesthouse with me.
I thought this might have a chilling effect on my recreational activities. Sidney looked like an accountant working for a minor firm. He was he was tall but looked a bit odd. He was the sort of man who could walk past a white wall and vanish. He was unmemorable.
Sidney was all business all the time. He had good instincts about art works, and he was obsessive about research. He seemed to have a massive data base of obscure material in his mind. He had no problem with anyone at the house. You had to be paint on canvass for him to notice you.
A week after he started working, he tripped and broke his ankle. When he returned to the house on crutches, he noticed I was missing a leg and was on crutches too. His ankle hurt some, but Sydney was shocked that something like that happened to him. I am prone to be helpful and I gave him firsthand advice on what to do. I was an expert in his eyes.
I loaned him Bobby and Matt, the rechristened Mouse and Lugg, to help him. A day later we met in the shower. Sydney had an appointment that morning and he was never late. I was with Bobby and Matt was with Sydney. We showered together and I just happened to notice Sydney's equipment. I hate to say it, but impressive genitals increased his appeal greatly. Bobby told me later that Sydney had noticed mine. When Sydney returned that night, he was excited and almost sociable. He had found one fake Dutch painting, but he discovered there was another painting below the fake one. Painting over older works was not that rare. The x-rays showed the under painting was a study for a Hieronymus Bosch masterpiece. If it could be proved to be by Bosch himself it would be rare and stunningly valuable. It could have been a copy, but it was on a wood panel of the right age.
He had also talked with Bobby about me. Sydney had a problem getting his cock out at a urinal on crutches. Bobby helped him and mentioned he was big like me. Bobby also told him I was a lot of fun. Sydney put a big cock and lots of fun together and figured out the situation.
That night, Bert prepared an impressive dinner complete with fine wines. I think Sydney was a Gallo man, and it was a revelation to him. Later that night, Sydney came to showers while I was there. Bobby and Matt were helping. Bobby became semi-hard and I followed suit as did Sydney.
"I had some bad experiences in showers when I was in school," Sydney whispered to me.
"No one here is into bad experiences," I said. I sat on a bench and sucked his cock. He shot off three or four minutes later. I took every drop.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"I'm more than okay," he replied.
We dried off and went to my bedroom with Bobby and Matt. Sydney was soon hard again and I sat on his cock. Sydney had a nice, meaty cock. It had been fun to suck, but it was wonderful in my ass. It was the perfect shape to hit all the right places.
He shot off in five minutes and fell asleep. Matt carried him to his bedroom. Bobby was sucking me when Matt retuned. Sometimes Bobby used my cock as a pacifier. Matt looked at me. I knew what he wanted. I nodded, and he rolled me on my side and eased his cock into my sperm filled ass. His cock massaged my ass as Bobby nursed my cock. I was almost asleep when Matt's ejaculations tickled my ass. I had a slow-motion orgasm, which Bobby enjoyed.
The next day Sydney told me had had never topped before and he didn't know anything could be that good. Later that day George came by. The discovery of Florian De Monte's stash of stolen artworks was a major breakthrough, the police had two tasks. One was to find and capture Florian. The other was to find the people who physically took the artworks.
I had been thinking about that. I assumed there may well have been multiple agents involved in the stealing. The effort was so extensive, I assumed there were inside people in some of the institutions. There also may have been associates of collectors who betrayed them. George agreed with this assessment.
The next day I had a call from George. He said he had some people he wanted me to meet. I told him to come over. An hour later he arrived with Jean, and Elise. They were with the Corsican police. As they went through De Monte's house the found two small ledger books, one of numbers and the other of names. No one knew if it was a coded list or if it had any relevance to the case. De Monte operated a vineyard and a breeding stable at the estate so the ledger might have been associated with those businesses. De Monte was computer illiterate. He did not use computers for personal business.
Elise was a crossword fan, and liked puzzles. She discovered there was a list of galleries and museums, and each was assigned a number and a date. It was a simple code. BM was the British Museum; L was the Louvre. The dates were self-explanatory. A second list of numbers was unclear. related to the person or persons who were associated with the museum or gallery.
De Monte was not a cryptographer. The lists were for his use only to keep track of things. We knew when some of the recovered works were stolen. We also knew the dates when some of the works were stolen by the Count. By comparing those dates, Elise found the Count was 104-A. There were 107 entries for the Count's robberies. Jean located these robberies on a map and thus he found the geographical focus of individual robberies.
Jean discovered that 76-2 was responsible for Paris and its suburbs. 56-12 worked in Israel and seemed to be responsible for thefts in the mid-east. 95-1 was related to art looted by the Nazi's. I happened to remember the name of the gallery that had handled parts of the Hirsch Collection. That gallery was on the list.
Most of the robberies had been investigated but there wasn't enough information to charge anyone. There were 52 thefts we could attribute to 76-2. It was now possible to look at the evidence for 52 robberies instead of a single one. The Corsican police were covered in glory.
We also knew that the Count was active in the British Isles. By comparing dates with thefts, a clear pattern emerged. He seemed to be focusing on illuminated manuscripts. Since no manuscripts appeared in De Monte house, there was another collector involved, or an undiscovered stash of artworks.
I called Sydney and asked to join us. He was excited by the new information. Whatever you might say about Sydney, no one would accuse him of being a well-rounded person. He was obsessed with art and its history. When he looked at our list of dates and locations, he checked them on his laptop, and came up with 13 thefts. He remembered some of the details of the thefts.
In some cases, staff members were fired or unexpectedly retired. The fired personnel were typical low-level persons. Higher level staff also retired. In one case Sydney remembered meeting one of the retired staff members who was living very well in retirement. It was a good day for the investigation.
We had found a possible modus operandi for the crimes. The collector had a stable of upscale thieves who served specific areas. They recruited dissatisfied staff members of museums or associates of collectors to be the inside men or women. They knew the storage rooms were significant works were kept.
We knew the Count was one of the thieves. He had inside men, but when he fell on hard times, he only had second rate thugs to do the actual stealing. We now had a massive increase in potential evidence. Our meeting adjourned with everyone feeling good.
That evening after dinner I had a long conversation with Sydney. He told me he had enjoyed our shower adventures, but he was confused and uneasy.
I asked him if he had ever done that before. He replied that he had sort of done it. I am not sure if sort of having sex was or was not sex. I asked him what that meant.
"After my mother died my Dad sent me to a boarding school," Sydney explained. "I have always been uncoordinated, and I am not at all athletic. Most of the people had been in the school since kindergarten. I didn't fit in well, and there were a bunch of guys who were bullies. I was the new guy and their favorite target. Sex wasn't gentle or voluntary."
"I was lucky. I had a pal I experimented with. I met some older guys who were not into domination," I explained. "I'm not sure that the that the "take it like a man," thing is sex. I think it's a power play that week men use to seem macho. I have always seen sex as a recreational, enjoyable activity. Some men enjoy sports and games. Some men just want to win."
"They must enjoy winning," Sydney remarked.
"Someday you are always going to lose," I said. "We all get older and there is always someone who is stronger and meaner. My Mom was a good Presbyterian. She said St. Peter wasn't going to as you how many games you won as you try to get into heaven. I'm sure he was not going to reward you based on how many men or women you molested."
Sydney laughed. "I hadn't thought of it that way." He paused. "Why did you let me fuck you?"
"You may not have guessed, but I like sex a lot. I like it all, but while my cock is admired, some think it's more of a decoration hanging between my legs than it is a useful sexual tool. I do confess there is a little calculation involved. I have noticed that if a guy visits my ass, the chances of my cock exploring his behind are greatly enhanced," I explained.
"There is method in your madness?" he asked.
I nodded. "Am I right in assuming you are interested in exploring man sex further?" I asked. He nodded and then said he thought he would sleep on it.
That night Bobby and Bert showered with me. Sydney didn't sleep that long. He joined us. Bert went to help him and got him to a bench under a shower head. Bert was already erect, and his cock was at Sydney's eye level. Nature took it course. It was a good night for Sydney.
At three in the morning I had a call from MacDuff. A bomb had gone off near the warehouse. There were casualties. An hour later a small explosive device had gone off at the Well's Cathedral library. Three people were killed near the Warehouse. One died at Wells. My instincts were that something was very wrong. There had been an earlier bombing and an effort to take a manuscript. The new incidents were just as inept as the earlier ones.
At Wells, the manuscripts had been moved to a bank vault, and the warehouse had doubled its security provisions after the first bombing. I suspected an unhinged mind was at work. Whoever that person was, he or she had hired remarkably inept persons to carry out the crimes.
Crazy people are not my strong suit. I was possible that Antonio De Monte was deranged. I also wondered if De Monte had a partner.
I thought that Deal might have an obsessive competitor. It was difficult to find a second oil baron with an obsessive interest in art. I called Templeton asked him to explore that possibility.
A day later the sun came out and things became clearer. The victim at the Cathedral was Mr. Delacour, the choir director's cousin. He had been under arrest but had been released on bond. Apparently, he decided to finish the job that I had interrupted with my flying crutch. I realized the Choir Director had probably been one De Monte or the Count's sub-contractors. He was the first Vice President in charge of Ecclesiastical Robberies. I called George and suggested that they go through Mr. Delacour's examination by the Wells Police.
George also was going through all of the Choir Director's correspondence, phone, and e-mail records. He also was checking the Choir Director's travel records.
The British Police are sensitive about bombs. Bombings are rare in the United States but were a daily threat for the Brits during the Troubles. They knew bombs from top to bottom. By now the investigation involved Scotland Yard, the local English police, most of the European Police and international art theft organizations. I wouldn't say the organizations were competing, but no one wanted to be found wanting. No one would say the Bath, Wells or the Corsican Police didn't do their part.
Bombs are not dependable. Yes, they do blow-up, but surgeons don't use bombs do surgeries for a good reason. You never know exactly what they will do. In Delacour's case the blew off his head and most of his torso, but the lower half of his body was untouched. His cell phone and wallet were also untouched.
When the Wells police arrested him, they found his wallet and cell phone. Delacour led a double life and he had a second wallet and cell phone. They had searched his apartment and not uncovered them. We didn't know where they had been hidden, but they had them now.
George and Miller came over that afternoon to discuss the case. Sydney was working from home, still savoring the discovery of the Bosch. George and Miller stayed for dinner, and they got along well with Sidney. The policemen knew nothing about art, but they were familiar with robberies. They traded information. They all had good memories and it was a productive conversation. The conversation was wine fueled, so Miller and George spent the night.
We met in the shower. I had the feeling that my cock was a few sizes too big for Sidney and my appearance was well below his standards. George was ideal for Sidney's tastes. George was better looking naked then when he was dressed. The rough and tumble of policework was hard on dress clothes. You could see George was muscular and well equipped. Matt was helping Sidney with is bad ankle, and he too was muscular and endowed. George and Sidney were both shy in sexual matters. Matt was not, and he got the ball rolling.
I had noticed before that alcohol can make my cock more attractive. I seemed to have become a beauty in Miller's eyes. Somehow Deal's fine wine cellar turned Miller into a cock slut. Miller was usually up tight and tense. He was on the way up and he wanted to avoid mistakes. A tense, up tight sexual partner is not a joy to be with.
My cock was in the mood when he started to suck me. My hi-test precum worked its magic on him. I was sitting on a bench; Miller was on his knees sucking. Bobby was watching. He lubricated his cock and nudged it into Miller's behind. He tensed up a little, but Bobby cock nudged Miller's prostate and all was well.
Next to us George's cock was massaging Sidney's ass. When George got close, he pulled out and Matt took a turn. Matt's cock was thicker than George's member. Matt built up the pace.
We moved from the shower to my bedroom. I was on the bed with Miller sitting on my cock as Bobby sucked his cock. Miller began so shiver. I told him not to worry, Bobby loved sperm. He had all of my cock in his ass. As I was giving advice, I forgot to pay attention to my cock. I had a massive orgasm. that pulled Miller's trigger. He shot off as Bobby took his load.
The next morning, I woke fresh and energetic. I think the massive sperm dump of the night had cleared out some of the confusing aspect of the case.