Catfish Takes a Vacation
Part 2
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.
I guess it would be safe to say my background in ancient antiquities and art history was a bit lacking. Actually, if someone had tried to get me interested in that stuff when I was a teenager, he'd have had a real problem. Langston was my tutor. I had joked I had shot enough cum into his ass to make him into a nicer guy. Langston was 100% an art historian and he claimed some of his knowledge must have been directly transferred from his ass to my cock.
Whatever happened, I got interested in antiquities and was good about identifying fakes. Some of the objects were interesting and pretty, but all of my Sherlock Holmes like instincts were aroused by forgeries. I loved it. I had access to the collections of the Commonwealth Museum, so I could see what the objects were like. I got my passport updated and went to London to visit Julio.
The British Museum is huge. I got into the back rooms and storage areas, where I saw acres of antiquities. If I saw 100 Greek vases in Richmond, they had a thousand. I was concentrating on Mexican and Central American objects and there seemed to be thousands of those. Julio left me with the Assistant to the Curator for American Art, a guy named Simon Botham.
We had a language problem. He had a thick, Scots accent and somehow he seemed to think I had a twang of some sort. It took about three days to sort that out. When you have a perfectly good Mayan god's name, take to Glasgow, then to Virginia's Blue Ridge, the resulting name is downright odd. Julio heard us talking and almost fell to the floor laughing.
Simon knew his stuff, but even better, he had a devious mind, well suited for finding forgeries. It was a hobby of his; he prided himself on his ability to spot fakes. We got along well. I kept a low profile in London; I didn't want anyone to know what was up. I spent most of my time with either Julio or Simon. An American redneck in the Mayan Art collection of the British Museum would have been easy to spot. We assumed there were agents there, watching.
I was ready for a long, sexual, dry spell. Julio was busy and out of town, most of the time. I didn't know about Simon. I was staying at his apartment in central London. He was a nice guy with bland features and mousy brown hair. Simon was about as average as a guy could be. His most noticeable feature was his thick glasses. The lenses looked as if they were a half-inch thick. They gave him a bug-eyed look. Simon also had a boy friend, Hugh. Hugh wasn't my type at all, so I kept to myself when he was around.
Simon and Hugh planned a trip to the country on a bank holiday. I didn't know what a bank holiday was, but I would be on my own for the weekend. When I came home Friday night, Simon was on his way out, but found out there was a new resident of the apartment, his Uncle Ted.
"He should be here by nine or so," Simon said as he left. "Let him in please, he doesn't have a key." I went out and got some dinner. English food is bad, but it reminded me of Mom's, so it wasn't that bad and then I returned home. At nine-fifteen there was a knock on the door. I opened it and there was Uncle Ted.
Ted didn't know Simon had left. He didn't like that at all. I hadn't realized Simon's accent had mellowed since leaving Glasgow. Ted could have been speaking Swahili as far as I could tell. I did pick out the words bloody fool" and arse wipe'. I figured that was a start. When Ted calmed down, he became marginally intelligible. I think he apologized. I tried to explain who I was. He looked puzzled.
"Beverly Hillbillies?" he said. I laughed.
"Blue Ridge redneck, but it's almost the same thing," I replied.
"Do you fuck your sister?" he asked.
"Hell no, I don't have a sister." I said. "Use to fuck my Uncle though. Does that count?" he looked at me oddly, then exploded in laughter. We got along well from that point onward. He was a former sailor, who had retired to a cottage in Scotland. He had never married, but loved to garden. The cottage was too quiet for him and he came to London to get some fun. He was planning to have a friend come over, but my presence there was a problem.
I was going to say I could leave if he wanted, when there was another knock on the door. I opened it and there was a policeman there.
"Excuse me, I must have the wrong apartment," he said. "I'm looking for Theodore Botham."
"You've got the right place,' I said, "come in." I let him in. Ted cried "Nigel" and came damn close to kissing him when them met. They pulled back at the last moment when they remembered I was in the room. I got everyone a beer and we sat down. Nigel took his coat off and was wearing a bulletproof vest. I asked about that and he said there was a terrorist alert.
I told him about my bombing experience. The Richmond Bombing had received extensive coverage in the British press, so he knew all about it. We had a few more beers and all of us were best friends by the end of the evening. I left them to go to bed and I took a shower. Ted took a piss, when I was showering. I got out to dry off.
"Damn, you're packing a lot of equipment for a runt!" he said. I don't get easily offended, and there was a tinge of admiration in his comment. "And I mean, a lot of equipment!" he repeated.
"Catfish, I don't know how to ask this nicely, so I'll just ask. Nigel likes big guys, would you mind if I brought him in to see it?" he asked.
"You mean see me?" I asked. He looked puzzled, then he laughed.
"You and it!"
"No problem," I said. Ted was a big man, but he scooted back to the living room and brought back Nigel in tow.
"Damn!" Nigel said. "Who'd have ever guessed?"
"What's it like hard?" Ted asked.
"Well, let's just say it doesn't get any smaller," I said. "If this is show and tell, boys, I'd like to see some more show."
"That seems fair to me," Ted said. "Do you have any problem with man sex? I assumed since you are Simon's friend."
"Well, I'm not really a friend of Simon's, but I like man sex, well enough," I said. "Are you are making me an offer?"
"We sure as hell are!" Nigel said. By this time Ted was stripped. He reminded me of my Uncle Jake, he was hairy, beefy and hard already. Nigel was smooth, muscular and toned; he worked out and I would bet, shaved his body hair. That was confirmed when he dropped his pants and his pubic hair was shaved to a neat cube.
He moved and then light hit him from the side. I saw he wasn't just built, he was Steve Reeves, or Charles Atlas built. He didn't use drugs, so he didn't look like Arnold.
"Were you serious about fucking your Uncle?" Ted asked.
"To tell you the truth, I come from a real loving family. Somehow, I ended up fucking two uncles and several cousins, maybe four," I said. "I don't want to sound slutty, but I seem to fuck anyone who can take it. Let's get out of this bath and into a bed."
As soon as we hit the bedroom, Nigel was on my cock. He was no amateur in the cock sucking department. There as no question he like big cock either. He got a lot more of my meat in his throat than most guys do. Ted was standing back and watching. His cock was a full size now and his cock was more than respectable. Ted was a grower, not a shower.
It was hard to get Nigel off my cock. We managed to get him on the bed. Then, I straddled his head and fed him my cock, as Ted sucked on his cock.
"Slow down, or I'll shoot too fast." Nigel mumbled. Ted stopped sucking Nigel and came over to me. Ted got into a position I could reach his cock. Ted was an older man, but his juices were still flowing and still were a taste treat to a horny redneck. I would guess, he had been saving and stewing precum since Nigel came into the room. His thick foreskin didn't retract all the way when he got hard. All of the love juice was trapped in the space between the skin and his cock head.
Ted's balls were operating at full capacity and his cock was as responsive as any I had sucked. It was good to be appreciated.
"Shit, Catfish, I'm getting close," Ted cried. "Slow up some."
"Maybe we'd all better cool off some," I suggested. "Do we have the whole night?"
"We have the whole bloody weekend!" Nigel said.
"Oh, shit, have I screwed up your entire weekend?" I asked. "You've been planning this for a while?"
"For six months," Ted said. "It seems to me, it all depends how interested in sex you are. It could be a great weekend, if you're interested." I told him I was interested. We talked and I found out Ted and Nigel were long distance lovers. They had met on the Internet and hit it off, but found it hard to get together. Nigel was closeted. Officially being gay wasn't a problem in the Metropolitan Police, but he wasn't taking any chances. This was a rare weekend off.
Ted was more free and easy. From the way they talked, I could tell they had started as sex buddies and the friendship grew. Nigel was new to the scene. He had looked a lot, but not done much until Ted. He didn't say it, but Ted lived so far away from Nigel, he wasn't any threat to his career. This was the fourth or fifth time they had gotten together Apparently they were frank enough in their relationship for Ted to admit Nigel was attracted to large cocks. Ted figured if he was attracted to large cocks, it was better if he was there.
I was ready to get back to some heavy duty-sex when the phone rang. It was Julio and he had someone he wanted me to meet. "Now?" I asked.
"Yes now," he said. "Get over here as fast as you can." I got dressed and took a taxi to Julio's apartment. Julio lived in a beautiful house on Regent's Park. His apartment was on the second floor, overlooking the park. Julio greeted me at the door and took me to the living room. I had never been in a room like this. It was a spectacular combination of antiques and antiquities. I was pretty sure, these weren't copies. Sitting in one of the chairs was a huge, unkept, bearded man, who looked as if he had just walked out of the Ozarks after a binge.
"Catfish, I'd like you to meet Ivan. He'll be your contact in St. Petersburg," Julio said. Ivan rose to his full height and we shook hands. He had the grip of death, but I could give as much as he gave. He spoke in heavily accented English, but he was easier to understand than Simon.
Ivan was an agent working for the Hermitage. With the extent of the crime problem in Russia and the prevalence of bribery, the museum had its own agents. He was paid well and received a percentage of the value of the objects he recovered. I had to admit he looked as unlike an art connoisseur as was possible; I would have guessed a ditch digger. Our eyes met. He had been giving me the once over. We both burst into laughter. I realized he had the same thought about me as I did of him. We were both improbable artistic types.
There was vodka, but I was sober. Both Julio and Ivan had been drinking some. Julio went off to the toilet and didn't return. Ivan and I worked on my cover story. He knew what made sense in St. Petersburg and he found some shortcomings in our preliminary plan. Ivan was also knowledgeable and down to earth about the forgery and stolen antiquities business. I told him about my experience with the bombing in Richmond and he was interested. He was a bit disappointed when the bad guys turned out to be Christians; he had his hopes set on Islamic extremists, but at least they weren't Orthodox. .
At first I thought Ivan was fat, but that wasn't true. He had a massive barrel chest and a big head, but his hips were normal. He had Bluto's figure from the Popeye cartoons. His unruly mane of red hair and thick beard gave him a wild look, but I soon realized it was a costume he adopted for his own purposes.
I went off to the toilet and found Julio passed out on his bed. There had been a lot of vodka earlier that night. I went in his bathroom to take a piss and Ivan joined me.
"I'm going to explode," he said. He pulled out about three inches of foreskin and went fishing for his cock. Finally a purple-blue cock head emerged and he pissed and pissed and pissed and pissed. I couldn't tell if I was seeing something from Ripley's Believe it or Not, or an off-color Candid Camera skit.
"Damn, you must have a bladder the size of a gallon jug!" I said.
"Liter bottle of vodka!" Ivan said proudly. The piss had been clear and it must have been mostly vodka. Once he directed the stream into the bowl, Ivan had closed his eyes and savored the relief. When he opened is eyes he took a looked at his cock, then mine. His eyes opened wider.
"You have a man's cock!" he exclaimed.
"Well, what did you expect?"
He smiled. "You have enough cock for two men! I thought I was big. It is beautiful!" he said, as he reached over and stroked my cock. "Balls big too?" My cock was poking out of my unzipped pants. I undid my belt and dropped my trousers. Ivan cupped my balls in his hand. Ivan wasn't much on foreplay. We went back to the bedroom, stripped and went at it. Julio was still passed out on the bed.
Ivan liked my cock. That is not strictly true. Ivan loved my cock. I'm small and Ivan was huge. His cavernous mouth enveloped my cock and he deep throated the whole thing. I have very little experience with being deep throated, but I sure liked Ivan's approach. His bushy beard cushioned my balls. I got him to stop for a second, so I could pivot around and suck him too. His cock was hard, but still shrouded in his foreskin. I sucked the skin into my mouth, then worked my tongue into the pucker.
As soon as my cock was within reaching distance of his mouth, he swallowed it again. This was the perfect angle of attack for him and his throat fit my cock like a glove. The deeper he sucked my cock, the easier it was for me to suck him. The inside of his foreskin contained a rich brew of man juice. My tongue finally reached his cock head. I licked the slit. Ivan moaned. His cock responded with a glob a precum. I'll swear it tasted of vodka.
I soon realized Ivan had no gag reflex; I had never been sucked by anyone who had Ivan's throat. He came up for air. "Do you fuck?" he asked.
"I sure do," I answered. A few seconds later, Ivan's legs were on my shoulders. Ivan had slobbered enough on my cock, I didn't need lubricant. I just positioned it at his hole and pushed. There was no resistance at all. My cock slid deep into his ass in a single movement. Ivan moaned something; I guessed it was "Holy Shit!" in Russian.
If Ivan's throat was good, his ass was great. It was tight, hot and quivering. I loved to fuck, but it usually took a while for a guy to get used to my cock. After two or three good fuck sessions, most guys could get beyond the pain into cock lust. Ivan had no problem from the start; his ass was big enough to take my horse cock without effort.
It was nice to fuck at full speed and all out, without having to worry about my partner. Ivan loved anything I could do with my cock in his ass. As I fucked his eyes would glaze over and he'd slip into a cock induced trance. His cock got hard and finally cleared his foreskin. His dick had a small head on a tapered shaft. Where it joined his body it was truly impressive. His balls were monsters and produced a rich flow of Russian cock cream. I stroked his cock as I pumped his ass. It was as good for me as it was for him.
We broke apart to cool off several times. It was so good neither of us wanted for it to stop. During one of these rest periods, I fingered Ivan's ass. There was a tube of lubricant next to the bed and I had coated my fingers. His ass was tight, but welcoming. I felt for his prostrate and couldn't find it. I worked another finger, then a third. My hands are small and I was in to my thumb when I finally found the magic nut. It was buried a good six inches up his ass. I pulled out, covered my hand in lube and slipped my entire hand into his ass. I pressed his prostate and Ivan's eyes glazed over again.
I know enough about men's genital apparatus to know Ivan's prostate was too deep for most cocks. He was a passionate man, but needed some size to push him to the peak. I pulled my hand out of his ass and replaced it with my cock. Ivan looked deeply satisfied, almost relieved. I rubbed my cock over his prostate over and over again. Ivan purred.
His cock looked like Mt. Vesuvius, oozing precum like lava. His pubic hair was matted with the thick drool and his cock looked glazed. It was messy and exciting. I pulled out of his ass and he stretched out. I straddled him and sat on his cock. It was as I thought, easy at first and more challenging as it penetrated deeper.
It surprised and pleased Ivan when I did this. He was relaxing with his eyes closed when I slid down his pole. I had guessed right, the base of his cock was huge. I had misjudged the length. It went real deep.