This is a sexual fantasy with no effort made at real life experiences. If you object to gay fiction, DO NOT READ. This story is not for you. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymen@aol.com.
Catfish & Company 9
By Bald Hairy Man
"Hands up!" someone yelled. I almost had a heart attack, until I recognized Slim. Jim was shocked.
"You ass hole! Don't you know how to knock?" I asked. Slim was wearing his hat, holster, gun and nothing else.
"Jim, this is Slim. He's on our side, although I kind of hate to admit it!" I explained. "He's dumb as shit, but he loves cock, so at least he has one redeeming feature." Slim came in and immediately swallowed Jim's cock.
Slim was a good cock sucker. Jim was a forgiving kid and there is nothing like cock sucking to encourage forgiveness. Deep throating also seemed to hit the spot. Jim showed his appreciation when he shot another big load in the Deputy's mouth. I think Jim was a bit turned on by the Policeman. Being young is wonderful and Jim must have been twitching for a good minute and a half. Jim would be almost through when Slim would deep throat the kid's cock and Jim would muster another ejaculation.
I was pretty sure they would be seeing each other during the course of the summer vacation. After the orgasm we turned to business. Jim told Slim about the eog.com website. Slim knew Bert and Wally. They kept an eye on Wally whenever a notable appeared in the area. The State Police had him on a watch list in case the Governor, or a Senator appeared.
I soon discovered that Slim wasn't as dumb as he looked. He was so unimpressive and odd looking you wouldn't associate him with an investigation. He seemed to have a good knowledge of the "usual suspects", but also could tell the difference between an over aged cowboy and a real problem. Slim didn't think Wally was harmless. By contrast, he thought Bert was a follower, not a leader.
"Bert's just smart enough to be dangerous." Slim said. "He gets inspired and is enthusiastic, but never gets deep enough to know what he is really doing. He's the kind of guy who gets worked up over something he sees in the National Inquirer."
"Ovid," Slim said, "is another case. He's a good man who's gone bad. Something's wrong in his head. He had that nice wife and kids. It's the same situation as Buddy's wife. Somehow she changed her 100% all-American, Boy Scout husband into a depraved sinner." Slim paused. "I'm worried about Buddy's kids. It ain't safe there."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Bad vibes. I've got nothing to go on, but bad vibes." Slim said. "Anyone who talks as much as Dr. Paul does about the sanctity of motherhood and virginity and then breaks up as many families as he has, isn't kosher. There is something up."
"Do the women live near him?" I asked.
"They live in an abandoned trailer park about a mile away. The women call it the convent, but I have my doubts." Slim added.
"My younger sister knows one of the girls who lives there." Jim said. "They were best friends until the girl moved there. Dad thinks that the girl got too holy for us. Elsie thinks her friend is scared."
"I'd like to meet Dr. Paul." I said. "He sounds like a real piece of work."
"I think we might put off that pleasure until later." Slim said. "There may well be a situation when it would be good for you not to have met the worthy Devine."
"I'll ask Elsie to talk to her girl friend." Jim said.
"I don't want any amateur sleuthing." Slim cautioned. "This is a job for professionals." Slim and Jim both had to go, so I returned to the yard and finished my pruning.
Mr. Edland died that evening. Earl had a murder on his hands, but he played his cards close to his chest. Remarkably, those who knew about the tampered breakes kept it to themselves. The rest of the town was unaware of the circumstances of the teacher's death. Mom returned as soon as she found out. She didn't want me to do anymore investigating.
"Mom, it told him I'd do the fighting this time." I said.
"Catfish. The Sheriff is a smart man." she said. "He has everything under control. You know Earl hates a murder on his turf. It just offends him. You work on the Richmond end, he'll do the Victoriaville angle." She was right. I didn't have the connections I use to. And, while I'm not prone to admire any one other than my own policing, I had a feeling he and Slim were good. I could be more useful in Richmond.
I didn't go the funeral. Mom said, since Mr. Edland and I had not been on the best of terms in High School, it might look odd. "Plus," she said, "the murderer will be there. He doesn't need to see you. I'll give you a report." I went back to Richmond after I gave Earl all my information and suppositions. Earl was thinking the same way I was. He had people planted in the church to find out what was going on.
Richmond was quiet. The investigation had reached the pure slogging phase of work. The computer nerds were refining their search of the web and seemed to find increasing confirmation of the eog.com connection to the bombing. Most weird and whacko sites have a limited attention span, but not the eog.com site. It was still talking about God's judgment and justice wreaked upon the godless infidels of Richmond.
The laboratory studies had all but ruled out foreign involvement. It didn't fit the patterns of any known terrorist groups. It was an original M.O., home made, rather than imported.
I went to the bombing site and the area was a beehive of activity. All the debris was gone and minor repairs were well under way. The big damage remained. One side of the temple was gone and temporary shoring supported the dome. Blue tarps were everywhere. You couldn't fit another carpenter's pickup on the neighboring streets if you wanted too. Some people who had seemed to be in shock after the bombing were cleaning and fixing. I think activity can heal. You feel better if you are doing something. It amazed me at how fast people recovered from such a major disaster.
It was Friday. The Temple services were being held in a neighboring church. It had plywood in place of glass, but was otherwise undamaged. We provided security, but there was a very heavy Richmond Police presence. We were undercover, looking for potential problems, assuming the bombers would avoid the uniformed Police. We also provided security for three other temples and a school.
The City administration wasn't enthusiastic about the bombing investigation, but the individual members of the Police and Fire Departments were. They wanted to get the guys as badly as we did. I ran into John. The contractor and Max, the architect, inspecting the work. They were trying to get the repairs done as quickly as possible, but had run into problems with the Building Code people. The street was all offices and apartments, other than the churches and the Temple. The Mayor was blocking repairs because he wanted it to be a street of single family homes.
He said, he wanted it to be a wholesome street, that seemed to exclude the Gay newspaper and the Women's Health Clinic. Eleanor Salina and Ari were there. She was rip roaring mad and not in a mood to take prisoners. Her house had only lost its windows in the blast, but her neighbor's house across the street was badly burned out. The mayor had stopped all permits until the land use question was resolved and her neighbors were frantic to save what was left and get back in their houses. Blue tarps only last so long.
The neighborhood was inhabited by professional people and Eleanor figured she would mobilize some lawyers. Max said, the mayor didn't have a leg to stand on, but he was afraid if it hit the courts the whole process could go on forever. Eleanor and Max went off to plot strategy. She also was to appear at a big memorial service in the Cathedral on Sunday. The local Clergy wanted to show solidarity with the Temple so the service was at the biggest church in the area. I realized the general assumption still was the bombing was anti-Semitic.
John asked me, to come over for dinner the next night. He was having some friends over. I was going to say No', I was too busy, but I said Yes'. I hadn't done anything not work related in a while. Except for sex with emergency workers, policemen or leads in the case, of course.
The next day I spent interviewing new employees. We were growing and I didn't want to have unqualified guys on the job. Butch had done some preliminary interviews, but he felt I had a nose for trouble. I agreed with him on that. I can smell a bullshit artist a mile away.
It was a productive day. I found several good men. We did real well with retired police and military men. These men were already trained, but they really appreciated working in a place where they didn't have to hide their sexual interests. I hired one oddball. Lonnie was a former waiter, chef, locker room attendant and florist.
Lonnie looked macho enough, but he was a few steps the right side of Pee Wee Herman in terms of masculinity, but only a few. He told me he was the last person in the world anyone would suspect of being a detective. He moved in Richmond's swishy circles and was totally harmless as far as anyone would guess. I could see where he would be helpful.
I went over to John's house for dinner. Millennium Construction had outgrown his house, so he had moved his offices out of the first floor into a bigger building. It was a shock to see living room furniture in place in the parlors. The murals of nude Confederate Generals were well displayed. I remembered the stir they caused when John uncovered them a year earlier. The nude Lee remained my favorite.
I was there a little late, most of my friends from Catfish & Company and Millennium Construction were already there as well as Vince and Ari. I got a beer and talked. The room was crowded. The sliding doors to the dining room were closed. I assumed John hadn't had time to decorate the other rooms on the first floor. I was talking with Tom and Ed, John's right-hand men, when a gong sounded.
Skeeter and John came down the stairs, wearing top hats.
"Welcome gentlemen and not quite gentlemen!" John announced grandly. "Tonight we have the great unveiling of my new dining room, just redecorated and restored. Ari has catered the event with my neighbors Karl and Bob."
Karl, John's next door neighbor and a caterer appeared wearing a chef's hats. "This is a new breakthrough in the world of Richmond catering." he proclaimed. "We have managed to combine Nouvelle Cuisine with Homo Baroque decoration to create a new style." Karl and Skeeter pushed the big sliding doors open.
The Dining room was illuminated with a spectacular chandelier, in the center of the dining room table was a huge ice sculpture of a cock. The room burst into laughter. The room was really beautiful and the contrast between its elegance and the ice cock was outrageous. The entire table was filed with cock like or ball like food. Some erect, some semi erect and the Brie dick had already melted. There was a huge, three tiered birthday cake in the corner.
"Oh shit!" I said. The cake was inscribed "Happy Birthday Catfish!" The room burst into laughter again. Everyone began singing, "Happy Birthday to You" and the top of the cake began to move.
I think Mark was supposed to jump out of the cake, but such feats of athletic prowess weren't his cup of tea. He did eventually get out of the cake and he made up for the clumsiness by being stark naked. Everyone was laughing so hard it really didn't make any difference.
I was showered with gifts. "You guys must think I like nothing but sex!" I said after getting my third bottle of lube and sixth bottle of poppers.
"Only when you're awake!" Mark said. I guess he had a point. Dinner looked odd, but tasted good. I had a good time and everyone was in a good mood. The mood got even better when John broke out the Viagra and gave it to those who wanted it. Mark never got dressed. Skeeter, Ram and Vince joined him. They were all well hung and their big dicks seemed to inspire just about everyone.
Skeeter let us know his attic bedroom was the playroom. He called it the "fuck pen". The guest room on the second floor was christened the "suckatorium". I had wondered how many guys at the party would take advantage of a playroom. There was no pressure to go upstairs, but, at this party at least, everyone was interested.
Above the first floor everyone was naked. I wandered up there around eight and got an opportunity to use some of the Treasure-Trove of "marital aids." I put the poppers away. With the Viagra, there were enough chemicals in our bodies. I also figured dildos were like carrying coals to Newcastle. There were enough real cocks to make dildos unnecessary. Some of the lube was really good.
Skeeter was famous as a cock sucker and cum hound. He set up shop in the "suckatorium". Bobby, a diminutive laborer who worked for John, was a confirmed bottom and he was the lube master for the attic. Bobby was sitting on the stair at the attic entrance and lubricating everyone's ass hole as they went in the room.
Bobby knew his way around an ass and his little fingers got your entire tunnel slicked up in no time. I don't know exactly what he did, but he poked my prostate a few times and seemed to have tripped my "on" button. Mark was right behind me and received the same treatment.
"Hot damn! You're good!" he said to Bobby. He had never met Bobby before. Bobby was looking at Mark, eye to cock.
"You got a keeper there!" Bobby said appreciatively. He poked Mark's prostate a few times to inflate Mark's donkey dong to full erection. "It's a beauty."
"It works for me." Mark said.
"Do you give rides?" asked Bobby.
"I sure do, but aren't your eye's bigger than your ass?" replied Mark. "You'd make a real nice hood ornament, but I'd hate to split you in half."
"Let me be the judge of that." Bobby said. "Take a seat." Bobby coated Mark's dick and when Mark sat on the top step, Bobby got up, positioned Mark's cock at his hole and sat back. There was no hesitation, the entire cock slipped in as if Bobby's ass was designed for it. Bobby arched his back once the whole cock was in. He shivered a few times and wiggled his ass to get more comfortable. I had to admit they both looked happy.
Skeeter's attic apartment was quiet. Vince was there fucking Larry. Vince had a hard time finding guys who could take his man rammer. John told me, Larry wasn't normally a bottom, he only did it for Vince. I guess if you're going to become a bottom, you might as well start at the top!
John and Ed were on the bed. Ed waved me over so I joined them. I had a suspicion they were waiting for me.