Starting Over 1 By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have, comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com
From the moment of my birth until my 31st birthday my Father planned my life. He was Johnson Fitzhugh, financial genius, Wall Street Wonder, the great mover, and shaker. I am quite sure I had a mother, but I can barely remember her. She died when I was three. I was 24 when I found out she committed suicide.
I am Johnson Fitzhugh II. I should have been a junior, but my father thought that the second sounded classier. I was raised by governesses and maids. I went to elite private schools and then college. After that I worked for my father. It would be more correct to say I worked at my father's companies. I was supposed to start at the bottom and then work up. I did well in every job, but that didn't seem to make any difference in my life.
Fortunately, I don't have a rebellious bone in my body. I just did what I was told. I was the perfect child. I never caused trouble. Life wasn't interesting or exciting, but it was all I knew.
On the night before my 31st birthday, my father killed himself when he was charged with tax evasion and fraud. Around 500 additional suits were filed against him in the next six months. His genius and wealth were all smoke and mirrors. His only real skill was in fraudulent accounting practices. In months, his businesses were gone, along with the mansions, cars, yachts, vacation houses, and even his clothes and the furniture were gone. I had three thousand dollars in my personal checking account left, but no job and no prospects.
That is when I met Uncle Jerry. He was my mother's younger brother and owned a building contracting firm. Luckily, Jerry and his firm did not have any connection to my father's businesses. He hadn't seen me since my mother died, but he was a blood-is-thicker-than-water guy. He offered me a job at a friend's firm. I took it and moved into an apartment over the garage of his house. He lived in a small city called Appleton, and no one knew he had any connection to my father.
I actually shared the apartment with a guy named Bill. He was a mostly reformed alcoholic. Jerry hoped having a roommate would make it easier for him. We had separate bedrooms sharing a bath.
I am thin, tall, and pale. I did workout some at the gym in my former home. Uncle Jerry was a beefy, stocky, muscular man. He wasn't what most people would consider attractive. Bill was a huge, bear like man. They were unmarried and Jerry had a housekeeper-cook, Manuel, so we ate with Jerry.
Bill and I had nothing in common, except we both had lost everything. He was a high school drop out and had learned a degree from the school of hard knocks. I had the best education money could provide and was penniless and alone. Millionaires' children don't like encountering guys who were wiped out.
I never dated, since my father thought everyone was after my potential fortune. No one in their right mind would date Bill. Jerry said most women could smell trouble whenever Bill made appearance. He said Bill combined Bigfoot's looks with Godzilla manners.
I had been living with him for two weeks when one Friday night I walked into the bathroom and saw him naked. Bill had Bigfoot's cock. When I saw it, I hadn't known I was into cock. I thought I wasn't really into men or women. His cock was big and beautiful. I hoped Bill hadn't noticed. He noticed.
"Why don't you get on your knees and suck it?" he asked.
I was shocked and had no idea what to do. I don't know how I ended up on my knees, licking his oversized cock head.
"That's it, baby. Don't be shy," Bill whispered.
My lips pushed back his thick foreskin and enveloped his knob. I thought it would taste of piss, but he had just showered. I knew I should have stopped and pulled away, but I wanted it. It grew as he got harder, and that seemed to excite me more.
It was as if it was magnetic and was making me to take more and more of the excited organ. I pulled back a little and tasted something sweet oozing from his knob. I franticly tried to get more of it.
"Johnny, my balls are filled to overflowing. You can have as much as you want in your mouth, on your face, or up your ass. You don't need to rush, it's all yours if you want it," he said.
My brain told me I didn't want it. The rest of my body craved it. In college I had heard guys talking about blow jobs and cock suckers. I couldn't believe that men did that sort of thing. It seemed to be impossibly vulgar and crude. It was not the sort of thing Johnson Fitzhugh II would do.
After my mouth touched Bill's cock, it was the only thing I wanted to do. We went back to the shower and we showered together covered in soap, our bodies slipping together. Bodies were nice, but I wanted his cock. Bill seemed to know that. When we got out of the shower we went to his bedroom and I sucked him more. Somehow, I couldn't believe he was willing to use his cock for my pleasure.
He switched positions do he could suck me as I sucked him. I felt as if I had won the lottery as my cock vanished into his mouth. I don't know how I avoided shooting off as soon as he deep throated me. Soon I was mimicking every movement of his mouth on his cock.
Bill was not a handsome or pretty man, but he was 100% man. Strangely, I felt as if I was sharing his manliness. His cock twitched and shivered as I sucked it. I was pleased that I could make this monster man react and react in pleasure. I wouldn't have considered sucking another man's cock a half hour earlier. I now felt that sucking a cock and giving him pleasure was my highest calling, my reason to exist.
I have to admit that my life before encountering Bill's cock was emotionally and sexually limited. I just didn't have any idea that those feelings were real. It seemed they were just fantasies. Bill and his cock were real.
We must have fallen asleep at sometime that night, but the entire night merged into a single sexual fantasy. The next morning, we went to Jerry's for breakfast.
"Jerry, I have a surprise for you. Your nephew is a member of the fraternity," Bill said. "We had a nice, long initiation ceremony last night."
"Johnson, are you okay?" Jerry asked as Manuel served scrambled eggs and bacon. "Bill is a nice guy, but not the delicate type," Jerry added.
I was embarrassed but managed to say I was fine. "I liked it. I liked it a lot." I added, "Bill was nice."
"I guess I should make a confession," Jerry said, "Bill, Manuel and I have a little club, or maybe it's more of a play group. We help each other out with stress relief. We are all single and the three of us have a good time. No one ever gets lonely."
"It isn't a lonely-hearts club," Bill said. "It's more of a lonely-hards club. Like last night, you don't ever stay lonely if you have a hard cock. Does that scare you? Are you shocked?"
"I think I should tell you that I am shocked, but last night was so exciting and mind-blowing, I am fine with it," I said. "Is it always that good?"
"The worst we've ever done was a seven on a ten-point scale," Jerry said. "A few times we've hit a twelve." We all laughed. Manuel was a good cook. He was my age, cheerful, short, and muscular. He had a strong Spanish accent. He looked like a mix between Spanish and Indian ethnic backgrounds.
The house was large and was built by Jerry in his spare time. The living rooms faced a pool. It was a swimming pool but looked like an ornamental pool from inside the house. There were some odd features due to Jerry's construction business. When a client rejected a non-returnable an item, Jerry would take it and add it to his house. That was easier and less expensive than having a fight or a lawsuit.
I had a nine to five job with a contractor friend of Jerry's. Walter Construction was an older firm that had resisted computerization. I was hired help them into the 21st Century. I was up to date with modern technology, but more importantly I'm polite. There previous efforts were with a man who treated them as idiots. I am much more mellow.
I discover that the previous effort focused on out-of-date software. This was much more difficult to master. Ten-year-old software was more difficult to learn and less useful. In two months, all was well, and Mr. Walters was happy.
I moved to Jerry's house in December. I eventually discovered that Jerry, Bill, and Manuel had their own group of friends. They were quite different groups in general, but they were shared common sexual interests. At first, I would meet these guys one by one, and I might sexually connect with one or two. Everything sexual was new to me, and I now realize I was at the elementary level of sexual exploration.
A week or so after my first connection with Bill, I met Lonnie, one of his friends, naked in the bathroom. Lonnie was younger than me, slim and had a hairy chest and a treasure train to his more than adequate cock. He also had a poorly repaired cleft pallet.
"You must be Johnson. I'm Lonnie, Bill's pal," he said.
Bill looked in the room. "You've met. I was going to introduce you later," he said.
"He's seems to be a nice guy," Lonnie said. "Can we play with him?"
"Why don't you get in my bed. I'll talk to Johnson and see if he wants to play," Bill answered. Lonnie went into the bedroom.
Bill and I went into my room. He closed the door. "Lonnie is a good boy, but he doesn't have good judgment about playmates. He needs some protection from losers, and users if you get my drift," Bill told me. "He loves sex, is technically an adult, but he needs guidance. He's fun, but you need to be gentle. He tends to do anything you ask. Sometimes he gets hurt."
"He had a difficult childhood?" I asked.
"As far as I could tell it was a nightmare. He works for Jerry as a laborer and all the superintendents watch after him," Bill said. "If someone treats him badly or makes fun of him, they either accept Jesus as their God and ask for forgiveness, or they don't work for us anymore." He paused. "Do you feel like playing a little?"
I have to admit there is only one answer a gay guy would make to that question. Bill knew that too. He was just being polite. A minute later I was naked and joined them in Bill's bedroom.
When Lonnie saw me enter, he asked, "Can I suck you until you get hard?"
"That sounds great to me," I replied.
Lonnie smiled. "Let me know when you are ready to shoot?" he asked. "Sometimes Bill wanted to eat the ball juice."
"Can I eat your juice later?" I asked.
Lonnie smiled. You didn't notice his cleft palette when he smiled. "I can shoot off four or five times. There's enough for everyone," he replied.
Lonnie sucked me and soon I was in the sixty-nine-position sucking him. Lonnie didn't hide any of his emotions. He twitched, shivered, and oozed to every movement of my mouth and tongue. I was soon doing the same. I had been nude before, but never emotionally naked. It was a bit frightening. I was the master of hiding my true feelings. It was also stunningly erotic. Everything was reacting to a sexual tornado.
"I'm going to shoot!" Lonnie cried.
Bill joined me at Lonnie's cock, and we alternated taking the ejaculations. I had cum down my throat, on my tongue and dripping from my nose. We both kissed his cock head as it drooled the last dribbles of sperm. Bill and I were feeling the same things.
"Did I do okay, Daddy?" Lonnie asked.
"You did just fine, son," Bill replied. I went to bed, but I thought about it. I was my first group experience and I was clear that I had just begun to scratch the surface of my sexual potential.
I had to go to New York to talk with some men investigating my late father's finances. Jerry had a friend I could stay with. I got there the night before and Armand was at the airport to get me. Armand was a high style fashion designer and how he got to know Jerry was a mystery.
Armand was only the designer's professional name. His original name was Rocky Tonelli and was a native of Brooklyn. He became Armand during his twenty years in Paris. He was tall, slightly overweight, and very funny. He lived in a spectacular apartment on the Upper East Side. Jerry and he had met in a motel room shared when they were trapped in an ice storm years earlier. Reading between the lines, I assumed the sex must have been spectacular. Armand told me that he liked to pick up construction workers and Jerry was everything a man could want.
He knew about my father and was sympathetic. His father had been a mid-level Mafia figure that was left holding the bag for the big boys. He knew all about losing everything overnight. Armand was a flamboyant queen when he was dressed. Naked he was your basic oversexed gorilla.
He had a whirlpool in the exercise room of his apartment, I was tense, and he suggested the water would relax me. I stripped and got in the water. He went off and returned naked and joined me in the tub. He had been Armand when he left, but he returned as Rocky. "Clothes make the man!" he said as he got in the whirlpool.
As had happened with Bill, his monster cock left me staring. He noticed, and said, "I give samples." A few seconds later I was sucking his cock as he sat on the edge of the whirlpool. Bill's cock struck me as being beautiful. Rocky's cock was lumpy and almost grotesquely large. It was pure sex organ with no aesthetic overtones. It was almost magnetic.
I forced my tongue into his thick foreskin and discovered he was already leaking precum. After that I did all I could do to get the entire cock into my mouth. Five minutes later he was deep throating my cock. Rocky was a sexual artist and my cock loved it.
Between sexual interludes, we talked. He felt that the hold back the climax as long as possible was ideal. The orgasm was spectacular, but the moments just before the orgasm were pleasurably intense and could be prolonged. In most cases the orgasm marked the end of sex and that was a letdown. I told him I thought that teetering on the edge of an organism would be frustrating.
Rocky returned to sucking my cock and continued sucking for more than an hour. I fell asleep and he woke me at 7:00 the next morning. I had the interview with the men who were investigating my father.
"Did you have sweet dreams last night?" he asked.
"I certainly slept well," I said.
He laughed. "I sucked you for several hours. You should weigh less this morning, I lost count of the orgasms I ate. It was a dream come true."
I was a bit shocked but Rocky soon turned back into Armand. He wanted to make sure I looked right for the investigators. I was off in a taxi to lower Manhattan by 9:00. I was greeted at the door by and assistant. She asked about my lawyer. I told her I didn't have one. I couldn't afford it. Jerry had offered to find one, but while his was well off, high powered lawyers were expensive. I didn't want to bankrupt him and his company because of my father's crimes.
Dad had some accounts in my name without my knowledge. He was the sole trustee of the accounts and the sole signatory. Fortunately, Thomas O'Brien, the investigator who discovered the accounts, hadn't noted the date the accounts were first used. They were continually active accounts but had been created when I was three years old.
Maxwell Dumont, the Senior man there was annoyed. "Is there any chance you were a financial genius at age three?" he asked.
"I don't remember much before nursery school," I replied.
Maxwell leafed through some papers. "It seems you were a History major with a minor in Archaeology at college. Did you take any business or finance courses?" he asked. I shook my head.
"Well the good news is that this interview is over, and I think there is little reason to bother you," he said.
"I need to apologize to you for my sloppy work," Thomas, who apparently screwed up, said. "It does indicate that the financial irregularities, began a decade earlier than we thought."
"There is one odd coincidence," I said. "My mother died when I was three. They say it was a suicide."
"Do you have any information on that?" Maxwell asked.
"No, my father tended to replace all the servants every few years," I said. "No one I knew had been around when she died."
I was back at Armand's apartment by noon so I could get a plane that afternoon. I thanked him for the hospitality. He said I was welcome anytime. I then called Uncle Jerry and told him about the meeting and that I was returning that evening.
It turns out I didn't know everything that was going on. Jerry was a good friend of Armand. It would be more correct to say he was a close friend of Rocky, a really close friend. I didn't know that Jerry was unsure about my mother's death. He had been at the funeral, but felt they gave him the bum's rush. He was just a construction foreman then. That was too insignificant to appear on my father's radar.
Jerry's family was well off but not rich. My mother was a wealthy Aunt's favorite niece. My Mother was the sole beneficiary of the aunt's estate, about $2,000,000.00. My Grandparents were too distraught to worry about the money and Jerry was just a working guy. No one looked into it.
Jerry, Bill, and Lonnie were waiting for me at the airport. I hadn't been clear on the phone about the interview. They feared the worst. I gave them a detailed account of the meeting. Lonnie was afraid I was going to jail. That was what the told in in school when he had been bad. He was terrified of jail.
Jerry had other suspicions. My mother's money was left to me. Dad deposited the money in my name, but he had control of it. I didn't know it existed. Jerry wanted to know where it was now. When we got home, I went to bed. I was exhausted.
I slept late and when I woke, I went to the bath. The door to Bill's room was open. Lonnie was sitting on Uncle Jerry's cock and was sucking Bill.
Jerry saw me. "I guess the cat's out of the bag," he said.