Catfish Takes a Vacation
By Bald Hairy Man
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.
You never really know a guy until you have your cock buried in the deepest recesses of his ass. Langston Carter Carlisle III wasn't my cup of tea. He was nice enough, but he just wasn't my type. He was the Curator of Antiquities at the Commonwealth Museum of the Fine Arts in Richmond. He was young, about 35 and he knew it all. Everyone said he was brilliant. He struck me as a hothouse flower, grown under greenhouse conditions. He wasn't interested in anything outside of his realm of activities and could be standoffish, if not rude and dismissive. I didn't run into him often and that was fine with me.
I was at a party for Andy Andrews, a painter who was going to do some murals for a new art center John was building. John was my best friend and I was invited to the party. Andy was also brilliant, but didn't seem to need to show it to everyone the way Langston did. Andy was a genuinely nice guy and horse hung too.
I had been told about Andy's cock; it was one of the wonders of the natural world according to everyone who had seen it. I had some hope to see it myself after the party. The place was filled with artsy types but I knew many, so it was congenial and pleasant. My plan fell apart when I had a bit too much to drink. I decided to walk home to get some air and sober up. Langston left the party when I did and by chance we were walking in the same direction. It was a cold night.
We came to his apartment and he asked me in. The night had turned very cold and I was freezing my ass off. He was as cold as I was and I wanted to warm up, so I said yes. The building he lived in was dumpy, but his apartment was nice. It was filled with Classical antiquities and statues.
"Wow," I said. "You're living in a fucking museum." He laughed.
"All copies or forgeries," he said. "I'd never have any stuff of this quality in a non fireproofed building. It does make a good show though. Would you like a drink?"
"I've had enough," I said.
"How about a blow job?" he asked. I was openly gay, but this seemed a bit forward, even to me.
"You've been drinking too much too!" I said. He laughed again.
"I guess I have, but the offer still stands," Langston replied.
"I've had enough booze, but I sure haven't met my quota of blow jobs for the night," I said. "How about 69?"
"Fine with me," he said. "The bedrooms this way." We went to a room on the side. He was stripping on the way. He was tall and lanky, with a dusting of blond hair on his chest. I stripped.
"Damn, you're ugly," he said, looking me over, "What in hell is that?" He was staring at my cock.
"All my friends say the same thing! The polite ones say I'm not conventionally handsome," I said. "And, what you are looking at is a 100% pure, redneck, donkey dong. If you play nice, you'll know a lot more about it in a second or two." We got on the bed. I licked his cock, Langston was average in size and cut. He was also oozing already. He hesitated a few seconds before touching my cock.
"I've never sucked an uncut cock," he said.
"Well, the cock's inside. Stick your tongue into the puckered skin and work it in,." I said. "You'll find the cock soon enough." He took it into his mouth. "Swirl it around a few times. The skin will pull back." He was cautious and I could feel his tongue first delicately licking the skin and then concentrating on the pucker. That was enough to wake my cock up. As it enlarged, the pucker opened. Langston's tongue touched my slit. I was slowly sucking him and when his tongue touched my cock head, he oozed a big glob of precum.
I'm not into man smells or stink, but after 10 hours since my last shower there is always a little build up inside the skin. It's different from a cut cock. As Langston worked his tongue from the slit to the sides where the skin joins the shaft, the taste gets stronger. As his tongue penetrated into the deeper recesses of the skin, he had completely licked my cock head and his balls must have shifted into overdrive. His precum was oozing in a constant flow and once in a while his cock twitched.
I knew if there had been any way for him to play it cool, he'd have done it. Langston couldn't play it cool. He was in the grip of pure sexual excitement. My cock juices touched his tongue then sent signals directly to his cock and balls. His juices did the same to me. As we 69ed, we formed a perpetual motion machine of increasing excitement. My cock and juice excited him, as his did mine. There was no brain involved at all.
I was petty sure Langston was an up and coming member of the "Chandelier" crowd of gay men. They were the artistic, flower arranging and decorating part of Richmond's gay community. I was a card carrying member of the ruff and tumble group.
As it turns out, I was there when Langston discovered he had a fetish for uncut cock and he was a size queen. I later found out Langston's cock experience was a bit limited and refined. He had been an older man's lover. That man had helped him with his career, but had dumped him when he reached 30 and could no longer be considered a boy. Langston had concentrated on his career and sex had been sporadic and limited to elderly men who liked "boys".
Langston had admired the Classical statues of muscular men with small cocks, or adolescent boys with small cocks. It would be hard to find a cock less like those on a classical statue than mine. I've got a ten inch man-ramming shaft in a tube of veiny foreskin. My bull balls hang low in a hair-covered sack. As an aesthetic experience, my cock eats shit. As a sex tool, it's a fucking wonder and I do mean fucking.
When I said, there was no brain involved in our sex what happened next proves that point. Somehow I realized I was going to be fucking him that night. While I love my cock, I know it's not an easy fuck. My cock is a treat for guys with a lot of experience and for true size queens. It's not for amateur night.
Nothing about Langston said he was ready for my cock in his ass. I just knew he wanted it and would be able to take it. As I sucked him, I began moving a few fingers toward his ass. He shifted his position, so I would have better access to his hole. I licked a finger and worked it into his ass, when I touched his prostate he moaned.
Langston was trying to deep throat my cock. He wasn't getting that far, but I appreciated the effort. He wanted all of my cock in him; I knew how to do that.
"You want all my cock?" I whispered.
"Yes!"
"You know where that's going to have to be, don't you?"
"Yes," he answered in a barely audible whisper.
"You've taken it in the ass before?"
"Yes, but nothing like yours," he said. "I'm sorry about saying you're ugly."
"We'll talk about how I look when you are impaled on my cock," I said, "We'll have a nice long talk. Do you have some lube?" He had some in the bathroom. When he returned with the tube, I told him to get spread eagled on the bed.
"I've done this a few times before and I don't want you fighting it." I explained. "Do you have some poppers?" He reached over to a night table next to the bed. I lubricated his ass well, and coated my cock. I pressed my cock head into his ass hole and he gave way a little.
"Can you take it slow?" he whispered. I nodded, then pulled my cock back. I pushed forward again a little bit harder. My cock went deeper. I kept on doing this for a few minutes, working my cock head into his love tunnel and a few inches of my shaft. I added lube several times. Langston was pretty tense, but realizing I wasn't going to ram him, he relaxed some.
I pulled all the way out, then pushed in five inches. He moaned. "Doing okay?" I asked. he nodded. I don't think he could talk. "I'm going to up the pace some. If you relax, it will be easier." Langston was too overwhelmed by the rush of new sexual sensations to think straight. I slowly pulled all the way out again. I was pulling his ass inside out and it looked like lips enveloping my cock. His hole stayed open for a second or two after I pulled out, then it closed up.
I opened the bottle of poppers. I figured they make the final penetration easier for him. I saw his hole was twitching, inviting me to return. I've seen that in true ass pigs. I think it was natural for Langston; he wanted it that bad. I gave Langston a good snort of the poppers and decided to try some myself. It was good stuff; I waited a second or two for the fumes to hit, then slipped in. His ass offered no resistance. My cock vanished into his love tunnel and by the time my pubic hair touched his ass, he was crying in pleasure.
This was uncharted territory for Langston, but he rose to the occasion. I'm not sure he had ever surrendered himself to another man's cock. We weren't friends, we hardly knew each other, but my cock was probing areas never touched before. He was experiencing sexual feelings he didn't know existed. He told me later, he really hadn't even guessed they existed. He thought guys made it up when they talked about toe curling sex,
It got messy, so we showered and cleaned up. He was embarrassed, but I was still hard. I could tell he was still hot-to-trot, so I asked him how he wanted to take it. He said, he wanted to sit on it. That's what we did. He shot off a huge load that time. We cleaned up once again. I was still hard. He asked me how I liked doing it. I told him I like playing the junk-yard dog, who found a bitch-in-heat.
Langston got on his hands and knees and I went after him. I will swear his ass all but sucked my cock into its innermost recesses. There was no way a cock can penetrate an ass that we didn't explore over the next twenty minutes. He was limp as a dishrag when I finally shot off. I was still dribbling when I pulled out. Langston looked at my drooling cock and sucked it. I leaned over and licked his cock and damn if he didn't shoot off again.
If I were a nasty guy, I could have made Langston into my cock slave: he loved it that much. Master-slave stuff ain't my thing, so we became fuck buddies. I saw him every two or three weeks. I introduced him to some of my donkey donged friends, but it wasn't the same for him. He needed my cock.
This may not be a scientific fact, but I think the regular injection of my cum into his rectum helped his personality too. I guess having a guy willing to bend over and get fucked by you at anytime and anywhere might affect my opinion, but he did seem to mellow.
I had known Langston for a year when he came to see me with a friend of his, Julio DeMarco. Julio was a curator in the British Museum. Julio looked like a caricature of an Italian gangster, but he had an English accent. After two minutes of conversation you knew he was an educated and cultured man. He was involved with a group of curators who were trying to slow the trade in stolen and looted antiquities.
Their focus was in Central America, where Mayan sites were being destroyed. DeMarco was tracing a ring, that seemed to be centered in St. Petersburg, but had branches all over the world. The European Union and the US had cracked down on the trade, but the unsettled aspect of central Europe and the old Soviet Union made these areas a natural breeding ground for criminal activities.
DeMarco needed a new face, someone who wasn't associated with any of the organizations known to be investigating the trade. DeMarco knew the organization focused on big cities and it was unlikely Richmond was in that category. The group also focused on nouveau riche millionaires, and Texas had been a good place for them. Julio figured Richmond might seem like another redneck southern city like Houston or Dallas, to some one in St. Petersburg.
"The only trade of that sort I know of around here is in Confederate relics." I said. DeMarco looked puzzled. I explained the demand for real Confederate memorabilia and the prices paid by collectors. Many of the collectors weren't interested in wheather the object was stolen or looted.
"Julio, would it make sense for a dealer in Confederate relics to branch out into other antiquities?" Langston asked.
"As a matter of fact, some of the guys handle Indian stuff too." I said. "All of that is looted, I would guess."
"I think we have found the cover story we need." Julio said. "Do you have connections to these men?"
"I sure do. Several years ago. I was kind to some bubbas who had slipped over the line." I said. "It was the 'Johnny Reb Guns & Ammo Shoppe'. The owners, Beau and Deveraux, tried a few crooked deals and ended up in trouble with some big time gangsters. I got them out of that problem and didn't turn them in to the Police. They owe me."
"I take it you are interested?" Langston asked.
"I'm kind of interested. Make me a deal and we will see." I answered. Julio and Langston made me a very good offer. I would get to travel to Europe and Central America. I had visited friends at an archaeological expedition in Mexico several years before, but that was the only time I had left Virginia. It was tempting. The fee was good too. I took the job.
Langston said, he would tutor me in art history, so I could be convincing. Julio asked me to visit him in London to get the details of what they knew and what they wanted. I said, I'd visit Beau and Deveraux and find out all there was to know about Confederate memorabilia. I was moving into a new world.
DeMarco was in Richmond for a week, giving a major lecture at the Museum. It turned out to be on an obscure aspect of Greek vases. Much to my surprise, it was interesting. He had a knack for making a dry subject interesting. He also had a great, but dry, sense of humor. I was there with Mark, my EMT friend. We took him out to diner after the lecture and ended the evening in the Museum's Guest House. He was the only guest in residence, so he had the whole house to himself. We had drinks and talked.
DeMarco thought we were hillbillies and about as exotic a species of man as he had ever encountered. Mark picked up on this and played the part like a bit actor in a grade B movie. Julio loved it. It hadn't occurred to me Julio was gay, but as he relaxed, I had the feeling he wouldn't mind some more intense relaxation. I went to the toilet and when I came back, Julio was sucking Mark's cock. A minute later, were we in the bedroom, naked.
Julio was deeply tanned with a heavy black beard. When he was dressed. I thought he was overweight; naked he was solid as a rock. His chest and gut were furry and there was no tan line. His cock was uncut, thick and just as hard as his body. He and Mark hit it off, so I was sidelined. I'm usually a doer, not a watcher, but Mark got really into it and it was fun to watch. I got to suck DeMarco when he popped, as Mark fucked him, so it wasn't a wasted evening.
The next day, I got out to Johnny Reb Guns at closing time. Beau and Deveraux were glad to see me as soon as they realized I wasn't after them again. They really knew their stuff and knew a lot more about antiquities trading than I would have guessed. I had thought the connection between collectors of Civil War relics and ancient antiquities would be tenuous, but collectors were the same everywhere. Some wanted only the object and didn't care where it came from.
Beau and Deveraux were gung-ho, but not smart enough for the big time criminal leagues. They had been thinking about moving into that scene several years earlier and got in over their heads. Beau got shot. I let them go, partly because they were small fry, partly because getting shot was punishment enough and partly because Deveraux was good in bed.
Beau was an older, overweight, rather slovenly guy, nice as could be, but not much of a catch. Deveraux was short, thin and good-looking. Beau played Daddy, Deveraux the son. Beau was a top, and Deveraux 100% bottom. With five inches of cock, Beau only met half of Deveraux's needs. My ten incher met the rest.
Beau liked to top, but loved to watch even more. He would watch us, then, after I left, get mad at Deveraux, spank him and then fuck him. It was a good arrangement for all of us. Beau asked me to pull out some when I shot off in Deveraux's ass. He told me, he made his `son' lick my cum off of his cock after he fucked and he wanted more of my cum where his cock could reach it. That was a bit more inventive than I gave him credit for.
They lived in a small bungalow to the rear of the store. Deveraux ran off to get some beer; Beau and I talked. He gave me the names of guys who were in the trade. He knew who the lower level guys were and the fronts they worked for.
"You know, it's been a long time since you were here last, Deveraux could use a good fucking." he said. "You got a good load in those bull balls of yours?"
"I sure do." I replied. "You're in the mood to watch?"
"I am, but it's funny. I've been thinking about your cum. I've never been much of a cum man, but yours I like. It makes the boy's love tunnel smooth as silk." The front door opened and Deveraux returned.
"Get naked and show our guest a good time." Beau instructed. Deveraux did as he was told willingly. He was shorter than me, but well built and muscular. He had a cute bubble butt, and it was hard to believe my cock would fit through his diminutive hole.
Deveraux had no problem at all. There was nothing I had he couldn't take. He was tight, and once I was in he clamped even tighter. It wasn't the tight ass of a man trying to keep my cock out. He was trying to keep my horse cock in. His sphincter formed a natural cock ring that kept me hard.
Beau was sweating like a pig as he watched his boy take my cock. "Beau, if you were going to make an entrance into the world of stolen art objects, how would you do it?" I asked.
"I think I would say I had a client with special interests. May be a millionaire who was trying to get culture," Beau said.
"What about a guy trying to impress a trophy wife?" Deveraux suggested. One nice thing about Deveraux was his ability to think clearly while being fucked. Some guys get confused, but he liked his ass occupied by my cock more than serious ramming, so he could carry on a sensible conversation as long as I only moved my cock in short thrusts. "You remember Glen Atkinson?" He was a local country singer who had hit the big time and moved to California. "He wanted a big painting for Tonya?"
"She wanted it for the future divorce settlement," Beau said, chuckling. "He wanted a Picasso or Dali, as I recall."
"Where did you send him?" I asked.
"For a fake Picasso or Dali, you can almost find them in the local WalMart. They're a dime a dozen," Beau answered. Deveraux's ass tightened and I pumped a little harder.
"Another group is made of legitimate, well known collectors, who have a second collection of stolen works," Deveraux said. I gave him a few deep thrusts for that bit of information.
"Would those guys go through a man like me?" I asked.
"They sure would. They'd want an agent as unlike their regular dealers and gallery owners as possible." Beau said. "We've run into that here. The collectors are regulars at the galleries and respectable auction houses, but like a sleazy redneck for the collection in the basement room."
Both men were filled with useful information, but all good things come to an end. It's really hard to control yourself when your cock is deep into a twitching, quivering ass and you been fucking him for a good thirty minutes. As I said, I hadn't been doing deep thrusts, but things build up. Deveraux twitched and I lost it.
I did remember to pull my cock back. When I shot off, my cock head was just on the inside of his sphincter, so I deposited my balls' contents within easy reach of Beau's cock. I squirted my last drop of cum into Deveraux's ass. He squeezed my cock in sort of a fair well gesture trying to milk the last drop of man seed from my organ and I pulled out. I got dressed and thanked them for being helpful and left.
As I walked out of the door, I heard Beau saying, "You've been a very bad boy today!" The two men's had a lot for fun in store for them.