Special Assistant.
Part 11
By Bald Hairy Man e-mail bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com
This is an adult story intended for adults. It is a fantasy, so I again remind you that I have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and have included no gestures toward common sense either. These are all new stories. Please e-mail me if you have any suggestions or comments.
The next day Kevin called me. One of his contacts had seen the Post photo and contacted him. The contact, whose name was Bruce, saw the photo and saw the President with Robin. Kevin had been kind to Bruce when Bruce was caught with some coke. In exchange for leniency, Bruce kept Kevin up to date on the goings on in the world of Gay rent boys and hookers.
"Bruce said he and Robin were the entertainment one night at the Metropolis Club. Bruce was just a one night stand, but he understood Robin had been back and had become a regular," Kevin said.
"I thought the Metropolis was purely social and inhabited by geriatric patients?"
"Most of the time, that right," Kevin explained. "Once a week they have a boys night out event. Usually it's with girls, but every month or so, they have boys in for entertainment."
"You're kidding?"
"Not at all. It's all very discrete and well mannered. For the girls they have a private dinner and then off to the rooms. The men's event is under cover of some personal trainers. The place has a gym and pool and a locker room," Kevin said. "Talk to Rolf about it. He will know."
I spoke to Rolf. He knew all about the Metropolis Club. It was ultra conservative and had unsavory association with fringe right wing movements. "In the 30s it had Nazi overtones, but when Commies became the problem, it became respectable. I remember a friend in the State Department who use to send South American dictators over there, so they could feel comfortable."
"Was there always the sexual aspect to the club?" I asked.
"As long as I can remember, sex has been an aspect of the club," Rolf said. "It always struck me as odd, but for a group of ultraconservative men, the club is in the vanguard of sexual liberation. Very open minded."
"Have you ever been there?"
"Hell no. I don't have enough money and I'm not certifiable," Rolf said feigning shock. "Let me give someone a call and see what's up there." He reached for the phone and called someone. It was Marty. This didn't surprise me. They spoke for a few minutes and Rolf hung up.
"Marty will be here for lunch," he said.
Marty arrived at 12:00 on the dot. He wasn't happy at all. "This connection with the Metropolis Club isn't good at all. I'm a conservative man, but I don't come close to being that conservative," he complained. "The sex thing is a problem too."
"I guess everyone needs some recreational activity," I said.
"It use to be straight sex, but it's been turning to the kinky in recent years," Marty explained. "Underage, bondage and masochism in various flavors. I've wondered if someone has been using the information."
"Blackmail?" Rolf asked.
"More as means of keeping people in line," Marty replied. "The men who run it are ultra conservative. They know if a friend is making whoopee with a fifteen-year-old girl, you have a hold on the man. It's not as overt as blackmail. The sex is open, so you know the other men know. I do have one friend who is a member, Baskervill Robinson."
"Old Basket Case is into that?" Rolf asked. "I didn't know he could stay sober long enough to have sex."
Marty smiled. "His Daddy was an early member. I don't think Baskervill is into the politics, only the sex. He's a watcher."
"I'd love to get into the club and find out what's going on," Rolf said.
"You're a good forty years too old to be appealing to Baskervill," Marty said. "We need an attractive young Mata Hari to appeal to him. Maybe a Martin Hairy would do the trick."
"As I recall, Basket Case liked to swing both ways," Rolf said.
Both men were looking at me. To make a long story short, a week later I was Baskervill's escort to an athletic night at the Metropolis Club. I wasn't exactly Baskervill's type and he certainly wasn't mine, but he needed someone to contribute to a "Father-Son" night. My status as a former employee of the White House gave me status in his eyes.
In many ways Baskervill was a handsome man. Well tanned and well groomed, he looked young from a distance. When you got close, you could tell he drank way too much. He was also pleasant in a mindless way. He reminded me of those brain dead English aristocrats you see on the BBC.
The club was hidden on a side street and nothing showed what it was. The brass plate at the door was inscribed with the monogram MC only. Baskervill knocked on the door. A butler answered it and greeted Baskervill as Master Robinson. He didn't acknowledge me at all. I was hired help to the butler.
Dark wood and oriental carpets made the interior dark. We went to the rear of the entrance hall and through a door into a stair hall. At the bottom of the stair was a locker room. The lockers were all mahogany and the floor tiles marble. "From here on, it's all naked. Is that a problem?" Baskervill asked. I said no. Baskervill was tanned from top to bottom and completely shaved, except for a small cube of pubic hair above the spot his cock joined his body.
He looked at me. "Damn, Marty didn't tell me you looked like Godzilla," he said.
"I'm sorry," I replied.
"Not to worry, your cock's big enough to be of interest," Baskervill said. "You can't get in on Father son night without a son. You'll do the trick. Do you mind if I go hunting for younger meat?"
I smiled. "I'm glad to be of service. Go ahead to do what you want," I said.
"I'd hate for you to think I'm rude," Baskervill said. We went to the pool. The pool was more correctly a water feature in the center of an elaborately decorated room. It looked like a turn of the last century ballroom, with a shell encrusted pool in the middle. The lighting was dim, mostly from wall sconces. Light glittered on the water surface.
A half dozen men sat on benches and several more were in the water. One heavy set man sat with a very young looking boy fondling the boy's genitals. The boy giggled. I couldn't see the man's cock, a roll of fat covered it. A young man got out of the pool, he was perfectly smooth, but well hung and I saw his eyes light up as Baskervill entered the room.
I went to the pool and jumped in. Most of the men were either much older than I or much younger. My hairy chest put me in a distinct minority. I talked with a young oriental boy in the pool. He was Indonesian. When he discovered I was a son, not a daddy, he told me his name was Rani he was twenty-five. "Don't tell them, they think I'm fifteen!" he said, giggling in a boyish way.
"Your secret's safe with me," I replied.
"Who's talking secrets?" a deep voice asked. I looked at older, but in shape man.
"All little boys have secrets," the Indonesian boy said. The older man got between us and put an arm around both of us. I recognized him as a former head of the Joint Chiefs. I decided to go for the gold, but found Rani was already playing with his balls.
"Don't worry boys," the older man said. "Uncle Cal here has enough for both of you." He was right about that. His cock was massive. The lights in the room were dimmed. "Damn it, Steve's here with his bitch," Cal said, obviously irritated. "I like to see who's sucking me and I can't see shit."
It was now very dim. Waiters appeared with drinks and passed them out to everyone. Cal took a drink and gulped it down. "Save your piss, boys," he whispered. "You'll have a chance to use it later." He was trying to get the small oriental man to sit on his lap. Rani complained, but somehow he got Cal's meat into his ass.
I was worried until I felt the Indonesian's cock. It was hard as a rock. Rani was whispering something about his boy's pussy into Cal's ear. I looked at the other side of the pool and saw a pudgy tall man with a muscular figure. Even in the dim light I could tell it was Steve Martineau and Randall. Steve was wearing a necklace of some sort. It took me a few seconds to realize it was a dog collar.
Most of the men in the room were quiet and speaking in hushed voices. Randall was issuing orders. "Open wide and be my bitch!" he ordered as he grabbed a boy.
"Don't hurt him!" Steve squealed. Randall let the boy go but forced Steve onto the ground and slapped him. I was shocked. No one other than me seemed to notice. Soon Randall was forcing his cock into Steve's ass. Steve was squealing like a stick pig. The other men in the room didn't react.
I must have looked shocked. Cal whispered, "It's all theater. They're role playing."
"Damn, I hate that kind of shit," I whispered back.
"Different stroked for different folks," he replied. Across the room I could hear Steve whimpering, "I'm just a piece of shit, a turd. You know how to treat me the way I deserve to be treated." Randall wasn't an easy fucker. He was pile driving. Cal went off with his Indonesian boy, leaving me alone.
"Are you taken?" a man asked as he slipped into the water next to me. He was perhaps sixty-five, with a bushy white mustache.
"It certainly doesn't look that way to me. I'm Jason."
"Virgil here," he said as wee shook hands. "You're a bit old for this group."
"Just here with a friend," I said.
"I'm with a friend too. He thought I'd like it, but I'm uncomfortable," Virgil whispered. "I don't know what you're supposed to do." In the dim light I could see he had hairy shoulders and hair seemed to cover his back. Bald and stocky, he was a man who didn't expose his body often. "It's dark in here, but not dark enough."
We moved to a corner of the pool as far away from Steve and Randall as we could get. I brushed against him and he jumped. "I'm sorry," I said. "It was an accident, not a come on."
"Not a problem," Virgil replied, then he whispered, "I wouldn't mind it if it were a come on." I looked at him. He had a frightened smile on his face. He was afraid I would reject him and the smile was an effort to pretend he wasn't serious. I felt sorry for him. Virgil was a good man is an odd situation. I brushed against him a second time.
"That wasn't an accident," I said, smiling at him. He didn't jump this time. "You like men?"
"Yes, but it scares me half to death," he said, still whispering. "What if I get caught?"
I leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. "It's dark in here and most of the action is under water," I said as I stroked his cock. "Relax." If Virgil could draw a gun as fast as he threw an erection, he would have been the fastest man in the West. He was built like a fire plug and his cock had the same shape. It was a six-inch cock, six inches in circumference. He reached over and fondled mine. I was hard too and I could feel him relax.
"Nice and fat," I said as I played with his cock.
"There's a room to the back," he said. "We could go there." We got out of the pool and went through an opening to the side. It was a small space containing a wide bench covered in pillows. Virgil sat and began sucking my cock. He loved that. I rubbed his hairy back and got turned on. Virgil was a Teddy bear. I got him on his back and we sixty-nined. He was dribbling pre cum and a good rate.
From the pool area I could hear Randall giving Steve orders. Randall's foul mouth offended me. I don't understand men who need to abuse to be sexually satisfied. Even less did I understand Steve. Why would you need humiliation to achieve an orgasm? I can't understand it.
Our little alcove was quiet. Virgil liked to suck and seemed very happy. Cal and his Indonesian friend joined us.
"Is there room for two more?" Cal asked. We shifted to make room for them. Much to my surprise Cal got on his hands and knees and Rani fucked him. In spite of his small stature, Rani was well equipped. Cal had no problem taking the cock and I guessed this wasn't a first for him.
"I wouldn't mind taking your cock in my ass," I said to Virgil.
"Really?" Virgil was surprised. The club had a tube of lubricant on a small shelf. I coated Virgil's fire plug and then sat on it. Like a fire plug, Virgil's cock head was easy to take, but as the organ slipped deeper into my ass, it became more of a challenge. It was almost too much, but when his cock head rammed my prostate, all was well.
I just sat on his cock and twitched. It was satisfying and pleasurable rather than exciting for me. Virgil looked as if he had died and gone to heaven. Virgil moaned every time I moved. Cal whimpered every time Rani went deep.
Randall's orders and insults provided the background music. Steve cried and squealed in pain. What could be more humiliating and embarrassing than this? I thought. I shuddered. In response to this movement, Virgil moaned and began to twitch. He was climaxing.
If being humiliated was a requirement for sexual satisfaction, would being humiliated and exposed in front of the entire nation produce the ultimate orgasm?