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 tend to be a gut instinct man, and in general my gut is 90% - 95% right. That's not good enough when you're a detective. That 5%-10% wrong can ruin a guy's life. For many people, you don't need to be guilty, you just need to be accused. I'm really careful about accusing.
The smell test is more reliable. A bad smell, or downright stench is a good indicator of where to start looking. At Catfish & Company we've all got good noses. When Dr. William G. DuVal IV called me and asked if I would visit him at home, I knew something was up. His family had produced distinguished doctors in Richmond for generations. Their blood wasn't blue. It was downright purple.
Somehow, the DuVal family had escaped the problems of old money and old reputations. I didn't know him personally, but my friends in the medical field said he was the real thing. He was intelligent and gifted. While he had a large practice, he was also involved in some major research, dealing with infectious diseases.
He asked me to meet him at his house at five. At first I thought I might be a personal problem, but when that's the case you meet is a dark restaurant or park. I drove into Cumberland Farms, a ritzy area of old mansions, when down a long drive and parked in the cobblestone forecourt of a Virginia Plantation look alike.
I knocked and a handsome, well-dressed woman answered the door. This definitely wasn't a personal problem. She was obviously his wife. "Come in, Billy's out side, I'll get him," she said. She showed me to the library. The library was beautiful. Paneled in mahogany, with oriental rugs, it looked like the set from a Agatha Christy, Murder in the Library' movie.
"Mr. Noland?" he said as he entered the room. He was dressed for gardening, but was an impressive man, tall, thin and distinguished. His wife joined him. "This is Liz, my wife, I'm Billy DeVal," he said. "Please sit down."
"I have a problem, which needs to be investigated in a delicate and careful way," he said. "My wife tells me you provide security. Do you ever undertake work for the Commonwealth?"
"No sir," I replied. "We're busy with private clients. We don't ever do competitive bids. Our clients want to be safe, not safe on a budget."
"You are aware the security for the University Hospital was bid out two years ago?" he asked,
"Yes, we got some good men who lost their jobs when that happened," I said.
"I opposed the farming out of security very aggressively," Billy said. "I was accused of undertaking a personal vendetta against Governor Fenimore. They were threatening funding for the hospital."
"I thought Fenimore was an idiot," I said.
Liz smiled. "I know he was an idiot," she said. "He was playing for national attention and letting the state go to hell to make a point."
Billy looked at his wife with affection. "You may have noted my wife has no future in diplomacy," he remarked. "He auctioned off the security services for both university hospitals, the Richmond Medical Center and the Blue Ridge Hospital in Charlottesville. Both are experiencing problems."
"Such as?"
"I discovered some of my employees were paying a "Security Fee," to insure their safety," Billy said. "It was small change, five bucks a week, but it struck me as odd. Then I found one of the staff who didn't pay it was mugged."
"A protection racket?" I asked.
"That's the way it looks to me," Liz said. "I found out about it from one of Billy's lab technicians."
"Why not call the police?" I asked.
"I've already been accused by some very powerful men of having personal animosity to Fenimore," Billy said. "Personally I don't give a shit, but state funding is involved. Fenimore is no longer the governor, thank you Jesus, but his friends are still in high places. I think they'll protect his ass."
"We'd like you to do some poking around in Charlottesville. You might be recognized here, but they don't know you in C'ville," Liz said. "We'll pay you out of my father's estate account. My maiden name was Benedetti. I don't think anyone knows I'm a nice Italian girl from New Jersey."
"As I recall, the company is headquartered in Tulsa. They don't hire local people," I said.
"Are you willing to work for us?" Billy asked. I said yes.
Liz went to the desk and wrote out a check. "Here is a retainer," she said as she handed it to me. It was it was a check from the Benedetti Company, Bakers & Confectioners for $25,000.00. I looked up at Dr. and Mrs. DeVal. "You think there's more involved than a protection scheme, don't you?"
"Let's just say, we want a thorough investigation," Billy said. "Let us know if you need more to handle your expenses."
That night I got on the computer and looked up Greenfield Security Company of Tulsa, OK. Their web site was slick, processionally designed and entirely uninformative. No names, just bullshit.
I sent two of my people off to get a job with Greenfield. They had resumes perfectly tailored to appeal to a security company. Greenfield didn't jump. Not a nibble. I then sent two operatives with problems. Both were hired. One was long haired, tattooed and had some big gap in his personal history. The other was Wilma. She was a straight arrow now, but had a bumpy life and you could tell. She had the look of a long time alcoholic.
I went to Charlottesville and got a job as a maintenance worker at the hospital. The head man was Guido Martinelli, a gruff Italian. He ran a tight ship and I was surprised I got in so easily. Guido was Liz DeVal's cousin. He was an insider at the hospital and saw things he didn't like.
"Make sure no one knows I'm related to Liz," he said. "There are guys looking for informants."
"I don't think anyone would guess you are related to the elegant Mrs. DeVal," I said. "Shit, it's hard to believe you're the same species."
"I think you're pretty too," Guido said with a smile on his face. Guido was a good man. He assigned me to clean the security offices. I was in charge of the office, locker room, showers and lunch room. I had shaved my beard and turned it into a Fu Manchu. With two days growth of beard, I looked like something the cat dragged in. They didn't guess.
Some of the security guys were just country boys from the mid west. They seemed clueless. Maybe a third of the men were petty criminal types. There also were several business school types. I didn't know what they were doing, but I was going to find out.
I had a small apartment near the hospital. I was the only non student in the building, and I seemed to scare most of the kids. I have been there for a week when I got home from a late shift. I heard one of the girls in my building scream. This was a noisy part of town anyway, but I knew this was real. I went in the hall and raced up stairs. The apartment door was open. Racing in I saw a big man with a knife.
The perpetrator looked at me, saw how big I was, and proceeded with his planned rape. When I was done, he had a broken arm, dislocated shoulder and three cracked ribs. When he tried to escape, I threw him down the stairs. The police arrived as he bounced off the last stair. The girls on the other side of the hall had called the police when they heard the scream, which was the right thing to do. The guys across the hall from me had been asleep, but got into the hall with a baseball bat at the same time as the cops arrived.
One of the police men looked at me oddly, "You did a job on him," he commented. "You didn't get scratched, did you?"
"I don't like rapists much," I said. From that day onward I got along really well with my neighbors. The girl was really shaken up, but she hadn't been hurt. The investigator knew who I was and he altered the story given to the papers, so I wouldn't blow my cover. I didn't volunteer anything and the investigator didn't ask. He was a smart man. I noted that everything was done by the city police and not the school cops. That struck me as odd.
There were two guys in the back apartment who got back to the apartment fifteen minutes later, winded form running. Several of her close friends arrived moments after the guys. One of the boys went to stay with the girl. He may have been a boyfriend, or maybe a close friend. After the police left, the other came knocking at my door with a bottle of wine.
"Cindy said you saved the day," the kid said. "We always walked her home from the studio, but she insisted she'd be all right. I can't believe we're that stupid. Thank you sir." I knew they were architecture students. The architectural studios were on the other side of the campus the rapist would have been able to follow her for a while.
"Come on in," I said. "Let's open it up and have a drink. I'm a bit keyed up. It would relax me some." He looked at me uneasily and then came in. I was wearing a towel after taking a shower. I think he was seeing a lot more of me than he had anticipated. "My name is Noland," I said. I didn't want Catfish to get out.
"I'm Martin," he said as we shook hands. He looked me over. "Were you hurt? He was huge."
"Nope, I'm very fast," I said. I poured some wine into two plastic glasses. "It's had to see bruises through the hair. Maybe something will pop up tomorrow, but as of now, I feel great."
"Were you a Marine or something?" Martin asked.
"Too small to be a Marine, too small to be a State Trooper too," I said. "This is good wine."
"It does hit the spot," he said. I filled his glass again. Martin seemed very young, but he was 21. I soon realized his relationship with Cindy was platonic. I wasn't so sure about his relationship with his room mate. We talked and went over the details of the attack.
We had dented the bottle pretty well. I stood and when I did, my towel slipped. Martin did a double take when he saw my cock. I love size queens.
"Sorry for staring," he said, "It's huge. I've never seen one so big."
"I don't mind being admired," I replied, "It's more fun to play with, than to look at." I figured that line would either send him running back to his apartment, or turn him on.
Martin was shivering a little. "Can I touch it?" he asked.
"Sure, take your time," I said.
He reached over and held my cock. "You're un circumcised," he murmured.
"You've never seen an uncut guy before?"
"I've seen it," he said. "But you're really un circumcised. Can I peel it back?"
"Sure. Just remember peeling it back and stroking it is the same thing," I said. "I can't be responsible if things get messy."
Martin looked worried. "Oh," he said. Then he smiled. "I'll take the risk." He stroked my cock. I was getting erect fast. My physical charm is limited, but it increases when it's erect. My cock worked its magic.
"You've got a nice tent there," I said as I noticed his pants. "Want to do a little comparison shopping?"
"I thought I was hung," Martin said. He had exposed my cock head and he was swirling precum around my shiny knob with his finger. He was really interested.
"I'm tired," I said. "But I wouldn't mind some fun before bed." Martin didn't say anything but when I moved toward the bedroom, he followed. He stripped and got on the bed. He was tall, thin and had dirty blond hair. His chest was dusted with hair too. His cock was long and thin, with an almond-shaped head.
"69 okay?" I asked. He was on the bed. I straddled him with my cock in his mouth and his at mine. I leaned forward and took his entire cock in a single gulp. Martin had the perfect cock for deep throating. I had my nose in his balls and his cock at my tonsils. I could breathe and suck.
Martin didn't have an easy time with mine, but he sure had a good time. He got me close to shooting several times. Once he got going, he drooled precum. He had big balls and they were working over time. Twice I got a spurt of cum, but Martin was able to hold back.
We broke apart to catch out breath. "Are you doing okay?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "It's good. You're not my type, but it's been good."
"What's your type?"
"A lot younger, that's for sure," he said smiling. "A lot prettier too."
"Is the sex better with your young pretty boys?" I asked. I knew the answer. Cock's can't lie and Martin's was excited and ready for more action. "Are you a fucker, by any chance?" I asked.
"Peter likes me to fuck him," Martin said.
"Peter's your room mate? Partner?" I asked.
"Room mate and play mate, but not lover," Martin said. "You want to get fucked?"
"Usually I top, but if you can keep from shooting off too quickly, I'd like to try yours in my ass," I said. "I like the cut of your jib, as it were."
"What do you mean?"
"Your cock is a good shape for me," I said, "A few years ago I took one like yours. Slipped in easily and rang my chimes. It was good."
"You don't want to fuck me?" Martin asked. Martin knew he was a good-looking boy and was surprised I didn't want to screw him.
"I didn't say that," I replied. I stroked his rock head cock. It curved toward his navel. I had a tube of lubricant by the bed. And coated his cock.
"Do you have a preference?" I asked. "Doggy style, spread eagled?"
"What do you like?" Martin asked. I rolled on my back and hooked my legs with my arms. My hole was wide open. Martin stepped up to the place and poked his cock into my ass. He took his time. His cock head was a good shape. I grabbed his head with my sphincter. Martin and I had a playful match as I tried to either hold it in or keep it out.
I gave up on one of his thrusts and the entire organ went deep. His pubic hair was at my ass. Martin was shocked. Martin wasn't that experienced and he got genuinely enthusiastic. Martin had struck me as the kind of guy who would try to fuck and not muss his hair. He lost it and turned into a fucking machine. It was as good as I had hoped.
We went at it for a good ten minutes and Martin shot off. I could feel his cum squirting in my ass. He was stroking my meat as he came and I shot off too. We cooled off.
"Don't tell Peter about this," Martin said.
"I thought you weren't partners?"
"We aren't. Just don't tell him, how much I enjoyed it," Martin said. "I lost it with you. I've never done that with Peter. I would hurt his feelings. He thinks he's hot stuff."
"How often do you loose it?" I asked
Martin had a sheepish look on his face. "This was sort of my first time." He returned to his apartment.
The next day I gave a statement to the police. The detective, Roddie Shifflet, was curious. They had my real name and knew I was there for a purpose. I asked him about the rapist.
"That guy had a rap sheet a mile long. The Oklahoma police had wondered where he had gone," the detective explained.
"Oklahoma? It's long drive for a rape," I observed. "I wonder of he was a traveling man?"
"Odd isn't it," Roddie agreed. "With his arrest record we should be able to follow his travels." As I left, Roddie asked me to keep him aware.
It was late Saturday morning when I got back to the apartment. I intended to go to Richmond to check in at the office, but Cindy's parents had arrived from Bristol. They were effusive in their gratitude and insisted I go out to lunch with them. They were a nice couple and there was no way to say no.
They took Cindy home with them for a few days. My landlord appeared with new locks and alarms for the front and rear doors. It was a panic button that activated a horn. If someone was followed home, she could press the button and wake up the entire neighborhood.
Back to my apartment, I planned to get in touch with my office with my laptop. Someone knocked at the door. I opened it and there was Peter, Martin's room mate. He had a bottle of wine.
"I wanted to thank you for saving Cindy," Peter said. "He said you liked wine."
"Come on in," I said. Peter was my height, but cute as a button. He had pitch black hair, clear blue eyes and a stylish week's growth of stubble. He looked like a model from GQ. He was too pretty to be handsome, but pretty he was. "Let's try out the wine."
Peter came in. He was nervous and I guessed Martin had told him the general outlines of our evening. We talked about Cindy. Peter had heard there had been guys hanging around late at night. They reported it to security, but there had been no noticeable change. He thought the security guys were jokes.
After about fifteen or twenty minutes of conversation, Peter got down to business. "Martin told me you had a good time last night," he said.
"We did. He's a nice kid," I said. "Did he mention I have an informal dress code here?"
Peter smiled. "I think he did mentions something like that," he remarked. "He said something about a horse cock."
It was my turn to smile. "Are you interested in horse meat?" I asked. "By the way, I wasn't trespassing, was I?"
"Nope, we're just friends. When I first got here, it was more than friendship, but it seems to have turned into just plain old friendship."
"With benefits?"
"Some times," Peter admitted. "About that horse cock, can I get a look?"
"Well, I'm not into show much," I said. "I like action."
"Martin mentioned something like that," Peter replied.
"I'm not rough, but I do like hot, sweaty and sometime messy fun," I said. "You know, creamy, sticky stuff everywhere. You look like a nice kid, but you'd need a shower after fun with me." I started unbuttoning my shirt. "It seems to be getting warm in here," I said.
"I noticed that," Peter said as he took off his shirt. "Did Martin tell you I like to bottom?"
"He did," I replied. "Let's just see how things go before we make plans." I took my shirt off and unbuckled my pants. Surprisingly, Peter had a hairy chest and a treasure trail leading to his bush. I stood and dropped my pants. Peter looked pleased. He got on his knees and just stared at my equipment.
"Do you think you can take it?"
"I don't know, but I'd sure love to try," he replied.
"How much time do you have?"
"Martin's gone to a wedding in Norfolk. I've got no plans for the weekend," he said. I got him up, naked and in my bed. Peter was well hung, but just like his body his genitals were pretty. Nice balls in a low hanging sack, a rock hard cock, thicker than usual. I reached behind his balls and felt for his ass.
Peter twitched when I touched his ass hole. It was already lubricated. "I like a guy who's ready," I said. "Have you taken a big cock?"
"Martin's the biggest," Peter said. "It's great."
"Most guys tell me it the diameter, not the length, that's the problem," I said.
"I'd like to try it anyway," Peter said.