Catfish goes to Washington 3
by Bald Hairy Man
If you are underage or if gay sex offends you, Don't read this story. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com
I suspected Jack would be sore the next day, but as for this night, he was one happy camper. It was more than he expected and much more than I expected. He was a reserved and careful man, but once I broke through that, he was your basic everyday sex pig. He loved it. I loved it and the Admiral loved watching it.
Admiral McHugh was the first to pop. I was pounding away at Jack's ass when several volleys of man seed spurted across Jack's torso. I don't know if he had been saving up, but it made a good show. I used some of it to relubricate my cock. The Admiral liked that too.
Jack shot off next, so I pulled out. Much to my surprise, Jack had a short recharge time. He was ready to go again ten minutes later, so I did him doggy style. That too was a success. The Admiral had to go home to his wife, but Jack stayed for a third orgasm. I went to bed and slept well.
The next day I decided to check out Room 8. It was in a badly overgrown part of the garden, so it was easy enough to get near it. Once I was in the thicket, I was invisible from the club itself. I was working there when Lonnie went in with one of the older members. They came out an hour later. Lonnie came up to me.
"You really don't need to do this. It's kind of nice to be secluded," he said.
"Secluded I like," I said. "But I don't like places for a mugger to hide."
"I guess you're right about that," he admitted.
"I'll leave it nice, don't worry," I said. About an hour later the manager came out. He too was worried I'd over prune. I had a section done and he thought it was acceptable. Another couple came by that afternoon and used the room. Just before they arrived, the manager came by and disappeared to the rear of Room 8.
He had that slightly furtive look you have when your trying to slip away to take a leak behind a bush. That seemed unlikely to me, so later that day I went sleuthing. There was a well-worn path to a camouflaged door. It looked old, but had a new lock and hardware on it. There was also new telephone line. I decided I'd check that out when it was dark.
While I worked in the garden, someone was nice enough to leave five hundred dollars in mixed bills in my room. The Admiral appreciated me. I also found out that my friend, Johnson, was actually W. Johnson Rutter III, a congressman. That evening I went wandering around Georgetown and North-West Washington. I'd been there before but never had the time to explore. It was dark when I got back to the club. I went into the garden and went to Room 8.
The lights were on in the room, so I went to the rear. The door was locked, but I had some skills picking locks. It wasn't anything fancy and I was inside after a minute or two of work. The room had a computer and monitor. The monitor showed the bedroom. A tool bar on the screen showed monitors One through Six. Room 8 was bugged. I left quickly and went to my room.
I was wondering if Johnson, Jack, or the Admiral would show up that night in the shower. None of them did. A man I had never seen before appeared. He was tall and thin, about 30 to 35. He had a hairy chest and a pronounced treasure trail connecting to his pubic hair. The man was obviously nervous. I saw him peeking at me from the locker room. He finally got enough nerve to join me in the shower.
"It's good to end the day with a nice hot shower," I said.
"It sure is," he said. "Are you a member here?"
"Nope, I'm the yard guy, Noland," I said. "I live in a small apartment in the back."
"Are you the guy who caught the mugger?"
I nodded.
"You're kind of famous here," he said. "Everyone's talking about you." He looked at me. "They said you're hairy as ape."
"Is that a problem?" I asked.
"Not really," he said. He paused and then said, "Actually, not at all."
I smiled at him. "Did they mention anything else about me?"
The young man looked at my cock. "Well there was one other thing they mentioned."
I laughed, "You'd be surprised how many guys notice it," I said as rinsed off my cock. "Is it what you expected?"
"They didn't mention you were uncut," he said. "I've not seen many uncut guys this close."
"Let me guess, that isn't a problem either," I said, laughing. "Not a problem at all."
"I hope I haven't insulted you," he said.
"What's your name?"
"Conrad," he said. "My Dad's a member here."
"I was thinking you are a bit young for this place," I said. Conrad was still looking at my cock. I turned off the shower. Poor Conrad looked disappointed. "My room's in the back. Come by if you want to," I whispered to him.
"Now?"
"Sure, I've got nothing to do tonight." I said. We dried off, I put on my bath robe and went to my room. Three or four minutes later he knocked on the door. I let him in.
"Are you sure I'm not bothering you?" he asked.
"Don't worry. I don't mind some company. I'm new in town," I said. "Would you like a beer?" he said yes.
I was still wearing my bathrobe and it wasn't too securely fastened. He pretended he wasn't looking.
"I don't know why I'm here," he muttered.
"Well I'm pretty sure I know why you're here," I said. "Lots of men are curious. There's nothing wrong with being interested in a big cock. It seems to be a part of human nature."
"You aren't offended?"
"Shit no," I replied. "You have a much better chance of offending a guy for mentioning he has a mini cock, than admiring a horse cock like mine." I stood up and took my robe off. "Feel free to take a good look."
Conrad was unsure what he should do, but curiosity and desire got the better of him. He leaned closer to look.
"Is it the uncut cock you are interested in, or the size?" I asked.
He looked up at me. "Do I have to make a choice?" he asked.
I laughed. "No, it seems to be a package deal anyway," I said. "You have to take the cock as it is and I throw in the balls and ball sack for free." He laughed and relaxed some. "If you want to see the cock head, you're going to have to peel the skin back."
"I can touch it?"
"Go right ahead," I told him. He reached over gingerly and touched my cock. He relaxed a little more. I wondered if he was expecting a lightening bolt form the sky when that happened.
"I feel odd about this," he said. "Are you going to get hard?"
"If I'm lucky, I will," I replied. "Let me warn you. It doesn't get any smaller when it's hard." Conrad laughed again, then he peeled the skin back exposing half of my cock head. "It's really shiny," he whispered. "Big too."
"It feels really good when you pull the skin back and forth over the head," I said. As he stroked it, I got hard. Getting hard never lessens my allure. Conrad was getting into it.
"You've got some nice equipment yourself," I said. "Why don't you pull it out and we can have some real fun?"
"I don't know if I want to do this," he said in an unconvincing manner.
I laughed. "Let me tell you, you'd be a lot more convincing if you weren't stoking my cock," I said.
He looked up at me and smiled. "I guess you're right about that," he admitted. "It's so big. I've never seen a cock like yours. It's just that I've never really done this before. I'm not sure what I should do."
"I could be accused of some self interest in this, but you may not run into another cock like mine in a long while," I said. "You'll regret not giving it a try. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may."
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Why don't you get more comfortable and we'll let nature take its course?"
There was a brief battle between reserve and lust and lust won. Conrad stripped. As I expected he was hard as a rock and his slit glistened with precum. I dropped to my knees and began to suck him. After a minute or so we went to my bed and sixty-nined. He was much taller than I, but it worked out. He was good at it. I was pretty sure this wasn't his first time. I ooze precum at a good rate and he had no problem with that at all.
After a while, we calmed down. "We're going at this like locomotives with a full head of steam," I said. "I'm going to pop soon. If you have some time, we can slow down and make it last."
"I've nothing planned for the rest of the night," Conrad said. "We can take it easy. I hate to sound superficial, but your cock is beautiful. It turns me on big time. It's like a magnet." We talked for a while. Conrad would take a lick every time it looked as if I was losing my erection.
"You've got a lot of experience?" he asked.
"I've had my share. Some guys are just lookers, others are really into it," I answered. "You're into it more than you want to admit."
"Can you tell?" he asked. "I was hoping it didn't show. If my dad found out, it would kill him."
"Don't worry. It doesn't show. As I said, I've been around," I explained. "Is your Dad the conservative type?"
"Hell, he's an Admiral and all his friends are hard-assed military types," Conrad said. "You can ask anyone. They'll tell you Admiral McHugh is the most straightlaced man in the Navy." Fortunately I was licking his cock, so he didn't see the expression on my face when he dropped that bombshell.
"Is he a good father?" I asked.
"No one believes me when I tell them, but yes," Conrad said. "I'm in the State Department. When I didn't go the military path, everyone thought he'd blow a gasket, but he was fine with it." He licked my cock again. "Do you fuck guys with this?" he asked.
"I sure do," I replied. "Are you volunteering?"
"I'm interested in it, but you're out of my league," he said. "I've topped a few times, but bottoming wasn't much of a success."
"You liked the top?"
"It was good for me, but my partner thought I was too big," Conrad said. "God knows what he would have said if he saw you!"
"As I said you've got some nice equipment," I said. "Nice curve too. It might be a good fit."
"You bottom?" Conrad asked. He was on my bed. I moved and got Conrad on his back. I suddenly straddled him, got his cock at my hole and sat back. I had been sucking him, so he was spit lubricated. It was a good fit. Conrad was a thick seven inches. It wasn't a challenge, but I definitely knew I had a cock stuck up my ass. I was hoping the curve would do something exciting, but it missed the hot spot. Conrad was shocked when I sat on his cock, but adjusted quickly.
I squeezed my buns and rotated my ass. "Can you do that again?" he moaned. I did a little hula dance on his cock. I think his cock grew larger, then slipped into the groove. His hard, curved cock found the spot.
"Am I fucking you, or are you fucking me?" Conrad asked.
"Boy, I don't think it makes any difference who is doing whom," I said. It was great. I don't bottom much, but when I do I'm an active bottom. Conrad provided the cock. My ass did the stimulating. I got it so every time I twitched, his knob made direct hit on my prostate. It was hard to do, but when he gave my nut a sperm bath, I popped like a Roman Candle. His hairy torso was coated with man cream. A good time was had by all.
Conrad left, and I went to bed. Before I fell asleep, I decided to see if I could find the other end of the telephone lines coming from the cameras in Room 8. It was possible the cameras were intended for a voyeur's personal pleasure, but it seemed more likely they were for a blackmailer's use. I didn't know where Jack, the Admiral, Congressman Rutter, or Conrad McHugh fit in the Washington establishment, but all liked man sex and all had careers that would be destroyed if their sexual preferences were to be discovered.
It was Saturday, so I had the day off. I was going to go back to Richmond and see what was up at the office, but there was a small grease fire in the kitchen. The Club was well known for its breakfasts. That meant bacon and sausage. The poor range hood was overwhelmed. It wasn't a big fire, and was put out by the sprinkler in the hood, but it made a mess. This was a good opportunity to get me onto the club's upper floors without suspicion.
Most of the maintenance crew was off for the weekend, but I was willing to do the clean up with the kitchen staff. I was scrubbing the soot-covered kitchen cabinets when the manager came in, he looked over the work and went home, leaving the assistant manager in charge. The assistant manager was a twenty-three-year-old kid. He was clueless and a bit officious. He tried to tell me what to do. It told him let me do it my way, or do it himself. It was an easy decision for him.
His name was Carlton, and he did go out and get cleaning materials and got lunch. It turned out he was willing to help. He just didn't have any experience doing anything physical. I was working with Roosevelt, the head waiter, and Louis, one of the chefs helped. Roosevelt and Louis were good men and had been at the club a long while. Roosevelt was an older black man who knew where are the skeletons were buried. He was also a gossip. I couldn't have asked for more.
It didn't take long to realize, Roosevelt, Louis and Carlton were gay, but they weren't the right type for the club members. They seemed to be interested observers. "The club has changed since the new manager came," Roosevelt said. "He seems to have brought in new members who aren't as distinguished as the older ones."
"A few of the guys are a bit rough around the edges," I said.
"You're a strange one to be noticing that," Carlton said.
"He's right," Roosevelt replied. "There's some odd things going on like Commander Willamette's murder. We've never had a member murdered before."
"Was he one of the new members?" I asked.
"He was new, but he seemed to be a nice guy," Carlton said. "He was very pleasant and affable. Some of the members are too elevated to even say hello to an assistant manager. He wasn't one of those."
"He was a real gentleman, young, but of the old school," Roosevelt said. "He took up with Earnest Hatfield, who is definitely not a gentleman. I thought it was odd. Commander Willamette was very distracted the weeks before he was murdered. I thought something was wrong."
"Did you say anything to the police?" I asked.
"There was nothing to say. Feelings aren't facts," Roosevelt said. "The manager and Hatfield are thick as thieves."
"When you add in Paul De Boer, you have the terrible trio, the bane of my existence here," Carlton said.
"How so?" I asked.
"Rude, unreasonably demanding and nasty sums them up," Carlton said. "I'm an underling here and they seem to look for ways to drive me crazy."
"They aren't a problem for me," Roosevelt said. "They're too scared of black men to say anything to me!"
"You're lucky. DeBoer and Hatfield are pleasant in direct proportion to your rank and potential for helping them get their way," Carlton said.
"That's it!" Roosevelt exclaimed, "That's what bothered me about Hatfield's friendship with Willamette. Willamette was too low ranking to be of assistance to him. I couldn't figure out what was up. It didn't make any sense."
"I don't understand DeBoer's room," Carlton said. "It has a separate lock and the Club staff is not allowed to clean it. He has his own people come in to do it. He's the only one in the club who has that arrangement."
"Is he a high-ranking official?" I asked. "Maybe he has secret files or documents."
"He works for some high toned think tank," Roosevelt said. "Something like the America First Foundation or some such thing. He tries to suggest he's CIA, but I've known a number of them. You never find out about the real ones until the funeral. You never suspect. He's putting on airs."
We cleaned up the kitchen by 3:00 so it was possible to do the prep for dinner that night. There was an important social event at 8:00 that evening. Everyone who had done the cleaning was covered in grime, and Carlton let everyone use the showers to clean up. Normally the members' exercise area was off limits to staff. I was an exception since I lived in the basement.
I'm unimpressive when I'm dressed, but I shine when I'm naked and covered in running water. Roosevelt was impressive dressed, but naked he was in good shape and his black snake hung almost to his knees. Lou, the chef, was a beefy Italian who was almost as hairy as I was. He was uncut, with huge balls, but a modest cock. Carlton was pudgy and bland. When he saw Roosevelt and me he got hard and stayed hard.
There was work to be done, so there was little time to do anything except admire. As the men went upstair to get dinner made, Roosevelt whispered to me, "Damn, you're good for a white guy!"
"Sperm's always white." I replied. "If you have an interest, I'm always ready to trade. You don't mind trying out Redneck High Test?"
"If you don't mind Afro Love Juice, I'm game. Fresh, straight from the spigot?" he asked. I nodded. "By the way, Carlton is a bottom, a good one so I'm told," he added. Roosevelt and I understood each other.