Catfish Rides Again
By Bald Hairy Man
If you are offended by gay sex or are underage, DON'T read this story. This is a fantasy, not a sex manual. No effort to portray safe sex is made in this story. This story is part of an extended group of stories listed under Millennium Construction Company. If you have want to know more about the characters look it up. If you have comments write me at bldhrymn@excite.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com
Mom always jokingly asked why no one ever killed her sister Edith. Her sister, my Aunt Edith, had a special ability to enrage and insult. She had been pretty as a girl, but my Aunt Ellen said, Edith hadn't aged, she soured. She married late and tried to make up for her increasingly unattractive appearance by being exceptionally narrow and intolerant of anything she regarded as "sinful", "immoral" or "modern."
While she was expert at finding sin in the most ordinary and simple of human endeavors, Edith's sense of virtues didn't seem to include charity, tolerance, love, or affection. She was attracted to crackpot preachers and to sanctimonious freeloaders. This got her in trouble several times, especially after Uncle Edgar died. Edgar was by no means a catch, but he could spot a con man two counties away.
It was ten in the morning when Mom called me and said Edith was dead. Mom wanted me to come right away. "I think there is something wrong," she said.
"What can be more wrong than dead?" I asked.
"I don't know exactly. Your Aunt Becky called. She didn't want to talk on the phone," Mom replied.
Fortunately, things were quiet at Catfish & Company, my security agency. By noon I was on the way home. It was a long drive to south west Virginia and Mom called me on the cell phone three times. The first time was to say that Edith had been murdered. Then she called to say the body had been mutilated, and finally to say Edith's house had been torched.
By the time I got home, Mom was frantic. He sisters were coming and I was to take them immediately to Wythetown, Edith's hometown. Wythetown was the county seat of Talliaferro County. Talliaferro was one of Virginia's western most Counties. I was noted for its poverty and inaccessibility. It was mountainous, with poor roads and with few resources, other than a particularly poor grade of coal.
Talliaferro, pronounced Tolliver, had been briefly prosperous at the turn of the twentieth century. There were several coal mines than had once employed several thousand. The coal produced as little heat and as much soot as was possible, and after World War I the mines were abandoned for cleaner fuel sources.
At 74, Mom was the youngest of the sisters. Becky was 77 and Ellen 80. They were spry, but the drive west was too much for them, especially considering the famously poor state of roads. My Aunts arrived just after I got there. We transferred my bag to Ellen's Buick 88 and left for Wythetown. It was a long five hours before we arrived at Edith's burned out house.
A policeman was on guard. Becky went up to him to get information. I'm pretty sure he wasn't supposed to tell us what he did, but Becky had her ways. Becky had been a High School Latin teacher. She was noted for being firm, but fair and she was every inch a lady. Becky expected people to tell her what she wanted to know. The Policeman, Officer Rollie Waterson, was a well bread country boy and he told her as many details as he knew.
Firemen discovered the body after they put out the fire. "It was a poor attempt at a fire," Rollie said. "More smoke than flame. At first they thought it was a typical smoking in bed thing."
"Edith didn't smoke," Ellen said.
"That what one of the guys in the Fire Department said," Rollie said. Scooter had her for Sunday School. He said, "Miss Edith didn't smoke, didn't drink and hardly took a breath without asking the Lord's permission. Scooter smelled something fishy from the start."
"When they found the body, they knowed something was really wrong, " Rollie continued. "There were parts missing." Becky gasped. "Sorry ma'am, maybe I shouldn't have said that."
"Not at all," Mom chimed in. "I'm a nurse and nor squeamish at all. Please tell us all." He continued. It was getting dark and a red truck drove up. A skinny guy with a huge handlebar mustache got out. Somehow I guessed it was Scooter. I was right.
"I was just driving by and saw you guys here, what's up Rollie?" he asked. He sounded authoritative and mad.
"These are Miss Edith's folks, Scooter" Rollie replied. "Her sisters and a nephew."
Scooter's attitude changed immediately, "Sorry about your loss," he said. "It's a bad situation. Miss Edith's body is at the medical examiners, so you'll have some time to make arrangements." We talked more about the events surrounding Edith's death. By now it was dark and it was getting cold. In the dim light I could see Aunt Ellen was shivering.
"I think I'd better get the ladies to a motel," I said. "This has been a shock to them."
"The motel situation here is poor," Rollie said. "The Town and Country has seen better days."
"Well, as long as it clean . . ." Mom said.
"Clean is kind of the problem, ma'am," Rollie said. "It's not too good for ladies. Even the Mexican's don't think much of it."
"My Mom has a room, if you don't mind things being a bit down home," Scooter said.
Rollie laughed. "Scooter's Mom is a nice lady, not like Scooter at all," he said. "It's a pretty house." My Aunts thought that would be fine. Scooter called his mother and she said she'd get the room ready. Scooter bumped into to me accidentally. I didn't react. A little later he bumped into me again, this time not by accident.
"The boy here can bunk with me," Scooter said. "I've got a double-wide on the other side of the farm." I wanted to find out more, but Mom and her sisters were worn out. I followed Scooter into the country side and then down a long farm road. The moon was out and the farm house was impressive. It was a two-story stone building with all the lights on.
Scooter's mother greeted us at the door. It took at least thirty seconds for Mom and her sisters to realize Scooter's mother, Elizabeth, was a like spirit. Ellen was looking a bit shaky. Elisabeth produced tea and a cake. She was sympathetic and had the ability to appear to be effortlessly helpful.
Scooter said he had to get up early with the cows, so we went off. I left the Buick at the house, and drove in his pickup. He said the road wasn't Buick friendly.
His double wide was a half mile away. It was a big farm. "I'm ready for a beer," Scooter said. "Are you a drinking man?"
"A beer sounds great."
He got out a Miller. "Your folks don't seem much like Miss Edith," he said cautiously.
"Thank you Jesus," I said. "Aunt Edith was a problem. Mom and my other aunts are normal. We never figured out what got into Edith."
Scooter smiled. "She was a trip. I hated her in Sunday school. She was a mean as they come, but as I got older I got to think of her as a type," Scooter said. "My mom tries to think the best of people, but even she admitted Miss Edith was a challenge." We talked for a while and had another beer.
I remembered to bumps in the dark and decided to go for it. "What in hell do you do for entertainment here? You're a long way from the big city lights."
"Other than satellite tv?" He asked with a sly smile on his face.
"You got some buddies?"
"A few," he said. "Fishing buddies, hunting buddies, fire department buddies. You've got friends?
"Sure," I said. "Mostly fuck buddies."
Scooter laughed. "That's my favorite kind."
"I need to warn you, I'm 90% a top."
"I'd guess I'm 50/50." Scooter said. He was 6" taller than me and he was looking at me in frank appraisal.
"Are you the kind of guy who like to know someone before he gets down and dirty?" I asked.
"Shit, if there's a cock involved, I don't even need to see a guy's face," Scooter said as he unbuttoned his shirt.
"A romantic?" I said as I stripped.
He nodded, "Sure, I'm romantic as hell." By now he was shirtless. He was thin, but quite muscular. He had taken off his baseball cap and was balding, but what he lacked in his head he made up for on his chest. The mat of dirty blond chest hair linked to his bush with a treasure trail. His cock was long and uncut. His nuts hung low in a hairy ball sack.
"Damn, you're a fucking gorilla," he exclaimed just before I dropped my pants. He whistled.
"You said you bottomed?" I asked.
Scooter looked at me a bit sheepishly. "I don't know about that. If I'd seen the coming attractions I might not have volunteered that information." he said as he stared at my cock. "I sure do like what I'm seeing. Your dick must be half your body weight."
"Don't worry Scooter, I never stick it where it's not wanted," I said.
"Wanting ain't the problem," Scooter said. I started sucking on his cock. He had what I call an ice teaspoon style cock. It was long and thin, with a bloated cock head at the tip. We were soon sixty-nining on the floor and the curve of his erect organ was a perfect fit for my throat. I could deep throat him and still breathe as his cock head massaged my tonsils. Scooter had a lantern jaw and he came damn close to deep throating me.
Scooter may not have been a romantic, but I knew we were going to hit it off. After a few minutes he seemed like an old friend. I've never heard anyone talking about a cock as a communication organ, but you can tell. I got Scooter from stop to 100 mph in 40 seconds or less. There was so much pre cum it was almost as if he was ejaculating. I was revved up too.
"Damn Scooter, you can pick them!" a voice said. I jumped, turned over and saw Rollie standing beside us taking off his shirt. Rollie was a black haired bear-like man. He must have been in his twenties and looked as if he still had some baby fat, but he looked good to me.
Scooter must have seen Rollie entering the room. He didn't jump and continued deep throating me. He slowly pulled off, exposing my cock to Rollie for the first time.
"Holy shit!" Rollie exclaimed. I'm good about recognizing all the signs of a size queen. Rollie had 12 of the ten most common signs. I don't think you can get whiplash from getting erect too fast, but Rollie was close. He pushed Scooter out of the way and went after my cock.
Rollie was clean shaven, balding, and shaved his neck to an inch below his collar. From that line down, he had a pelt. He also had huge balls. As Rollie sucked me, Scooter got off the bed, coated his cock with lube and rear ended the policeman. Rollie sighed in relief as if a particularly annoying itch was scratched.
"I hope I'm not telling stories out of school, but Rollie here likes the bottom," Scooter said and he slowly thrust his cock into Rollie's ass. "He's not exactly a bottom pig, but he's damn close."
"I take it you boys are old friends?"
"Since we were twelve," Scooter said. "Sucking at twelve, fucking at fifteen. Don't worry. We aren't lovers, just pals." Scooter tensed up, then began to twitch. He shuddered and twitched with every ejaculation.
"Sorry about that," he said. "It caught me by surprise. I wasn't expecting it." Scooter looked at me. "Do you have a problem with sloppy seconds?"
"I have no problem if Rollie is okay with it," I answered.
"Don't worry about Rollie. Just think of me as his social secretary," Scooter said. "Just take your time, and he'll be fine." I later found out Rollie had been a linebacker on his high school team and had spent four years in the Marines. He was a firm believer in the no pain no gain school of life.
Rollie had a tight ass, but I used my cock as a battering ram and got in. While I sensed he wanted my cock, he fought it all the way. Once my cock head was on the dark and warm side of his sphincter, Rollie became a whimpering pussy cat. I know a number of men who like to be fucked, but Rollie was right up there at the top.
Sperm is the best lube, and Scooter had shot a bucketful of the stuff deep in his rectum. Rollie's sphincter remained tight, forming a natural cock ring. I'm uncut and have sone extra skin. The sphincter held the skin, while the shaft and head churned Scooter's cum. If sperm could make butter, we'd have had it.
Rollie didn't last long. He started shooting after five or six minutes of heavy fucking. Since Scooter and Rollie had shot off, I figured I was out of luck. Most guys aren't interested in sex for a while after they've shot.
I miss judged Scooter. He had watched me fuck his pal and wanted to give it a spin himself. "Catfish, I'm not sure I can take it, but I'd like to give it a try," he said. "Would you mind if I sat on it?" Needless to say, I said yes.
A half hour later Scooter was skewered on my cock. He'd sit on it. Get up, squirt more lube in his ass than take his seat again. Each time his did this he'd get another inch in his hole. When about seven inches were in, his eyes crossed. I flipped him over and fucked him on his back. I took my time, but I realized my judgement as to his sexual capacity was better than his.
It was one of those situations when taking my cock was more like climbing Mt. Everest that a real pleasure. Once I was in, I pushed his knees back so they touched his chest and fucked him good. Briefly, I was afraid I had gone too far, but a second later Scooter had a hands free orgasm. Given he'd had a monster orgasm a half hour earlier, I took that as a good sign. I shot off and collapsed on the bed.
When I woke the next morning, Scooter was gone to his cows, but Rollie was still there. He wanted to be fucked again, and we had a good time. He went off to work and I went off to the big house to see what my Mom and Aunts were doing.
They were having breakfast and talking. Miss Elizabeth was fifteen years younger than my Mom, but the same sort of person, sensible self reliant and reasonable. She knew everyone and everything, so she gave guidance to find right undertaker and she knew who ran the cemetery.
Scooter appeared. He had showered and didn't show any signs of the activities with the cows. My Aunts wanted to go to the house. Scooter thought I might be better I he and I went there and scouted it out. Elizabeth agreed with her son said she would be glad to go with my family to make arrangements. I could check out the house with Scooter. He was the designated arson investigator for the fire department.
There was something unsaid as to why my mother and aunts shouldn't go to Edith's house. As Scooter drove me into town, I asked he what was up.
"The place is a real mess. We're not sure, but some parts of your Aunt may be missing," he explained. "We don't know if they were burned up, or removed. Some still may be in the house. I think we'd better know before the ladies go looking around the house."
Another volunteer fireman was watching the house as we drove up. The big boys from Roanoke were on their way to do the major forensic investigation. "Arson in these parts is usually burning barns or sheds and 90% o the time it teenagers," Scooter said. "The other 10% is for insurance. I've never been close to having anything like this here."
"Was there an accelerant?"
"I smelled gasoline when I got here," Scooter said. "Given the condition of the body, I'm pretty sure she was dead well before the fire."
We went into the house. The living room, dining room and kitchen were only smoke and water damaged. I recognized some of the furniture as belonging to my grandparents. My Aunt Becky had some parts of the old parlor suite in her house. The china cabinet was undamaged and I saw some of the hand painted china done by my great-grandmother was in there.
The acrid smell of the fire pervaded everything. We went upstairs to the bedroom. The door to the master bedroom was open. The damage was greater here, but it was superficial. The house had plaster ceilings and the fire had not spread into the attic. All the bedding and the mattress were destroyed. The windows were broken out and clear, bright sunlight into the room.
"You can see a lot better today. There was still smoke everywhere yesterday," Scooter remarked. There were odd looking things here and there. One glob of stuff turned out to be a clock radio. Broken pots held the remains of houseplants. I remembered Edith was known for her green thumb. Next to the pots was an oddly shaped piece of wood. There was something shiny on the wood. When I looked closer, I saw it was a ring, a wedding ring. It took me a few seconds to realize the chared wood was Aunt Edith's hand.
I came really close to throwing up.