The Agency 4 Part Four: The Men's Club 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
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The Bartlett Club was an all but unknown men's club in the West End of London. It was on a small, little frequented street flanked by a private bank and a warehouse. It was a large but non-descript house identified only by its street number.
The Bartlett had the normal rooms typical of a men's club, a dining room, a card room and some bedrooms for overnight stays. It also had a locker room, exercise space and a small swimming pool. It had an unusual membership. Sustaining members tended to be well off but little known. They shared some of the interests of Oscar Wilde, but not his fame. Indeed, being famous was a disqualifier for membership.
Secondary members were less wealthy and successful but shared common inclinations. They also tended to be more playful than the older members. If you were to visit the Dining or Card room, this was a conventional men's club. If you visited the pool or exercise rooms, the club was less conventional.
The essence of the Bartlett Club was to be anonymous and to be not noticed. Club members were known by a nick names, not by a given name. All bills were paid in cash and records were coded.
I pride myself of being knowledgeable especially about men who shared my tastes, but I had never heard of the club. The President of the Club, Ascot Mandrake, came to me with a problem. Men were being harassed as they entered or left the club. Windows were being broken and some members had been threatened. While the club had a detective inspector from Scotland Yard as a member, it was impossible to involve the police for obvious reasons.
Ascot, who was as eccentric as his name, had two theories. The Oscar Wilde scandal had generated great animosity towards men of a certain inclination. Someone might have discovered the nature of the club and decided to afflict the club members. His other thought was related to the value of the club's property. London was booming, and speculation was rampant. If the club were to move, that land would be available.
I joined the staff as a jack of all trades. My job was the take care of the members any way possible. While the Sustaining members and the secondary members were not of the same class, they shared common interests and were open minded. I helped as a doorman, serving the mid-day luncheon and then dinner, or working in the locker room doing whatever was needed.
The club was egalitarian in one way. While the goal of the club was to provide friendship and sexual release for it members, that was not a part of the staffs' duties. While the staff could engage in sexual activities, when, where and with whom was the prerogative of the staff, not the club members. I soon noticed that the staff was most generous sexually and quite willing to connect with the members. I must admit I seemed to have the same tendency to be generous.
Tommy joined me at the Bartlett Club along with a new employee, Barnabas. Barnabas was slightly smaller than Tommy but was covered in curly red hair. He had been a strong man at the traveling fair and once gave massages in a fancy hotel. He left that job when he seeded a man who had wanted his cock, but not the seed. Both men could serve as door men and locker room attendants. One would think twice before harassing a club member in the view of these massive men. They were also to wander the streets and pick up gossip.
I was surprised at how easily we were accepted by the members. The membership was quite small and stable. Three well-endowed, new staff members were exciting. I also met the Inspector, nicknamed the Searche, from the Metropolitan Police.
Wilson, the head doorman was an older man who knew all the members. Most of the waiters were young and friendly. The bar men were older and well versed in making conversation with older men. The Main level of the club was like any other English gentleman's club. The second floor had rooms for men who had too much to drink or were too tired to go home. The third level was for men who could climb three floors for less restful, but more intimate entertainment. These rooms were rented by the more prosperous who were entertaining friends. The club used the phrase, "Would you like a night cap in my room?" as the invitation to the third floor.
The ground level was a locker room-shower, a weight room and a small pool. While the servants were properly dressed on the upper floors, they only wore a towel on the ground floor. Massages by Barnabas were immediately popular. When I wasn't at the main door I was often cleaning in the locker and shower rooms. Overt sex was mostly under water in the pool, until Barnabas arrived.
Barnabas had a problem controlling his erections. The members of the Bartlett club regarded this as an interesting natural phenomenon. Ascot Mandrake ruled that while overt displays were discouraged, Barnabas had a physical condition that was acceptable since his member was soon buried in a member's bum or throat. It was fleeting and thus not a vulgar display.
There was another rule that applied only to the pool. It was a sperm free zone. Too much sperm would contaminate the water. The swimmers had no problem with this rule if they swallowed the problematic seed.
A little more than a block away from the club, Tommy and Barnabas found a disreputable pub called the Swan. This was a hangout for rogues and petty thieves. My men looked like laborers. It was not a friendly place, but they were so big no one bothered them. At the far end of the block was the headquarters of the Purity League. This was one of the neo-puritan groups that had recently sprouted up in London. From time to time a man from the Purity League would come by the Swan and hire a few men.
Even in the rancid Pub, Tommy smelled something bad. I contacted my office asking them to check on the Purity League. I also sent Alfred to watch the men. Tommy and Barnabas were good men, but they were too big to go undercover.
At the club, I encountered a man they called Uncle Sam. He was unlike most of the members who were affable. He complained about almost everything. He had an inflated view of his importance. His Uncle had been a founder of the Club and Uncle Sam let you know it. I couldn't tell if his complaints were real, or an aspect of a troubled mind. He liked to swim as exercise, unlike most of the members who swam as a prelude to sexual activity. Discontented men always interest me.
One of the unusual residents of the second floor was a young teacher, Desmond Duke. He was a bland unassuming man. Wilson told me was from a wealthy family who had discovered his inclinations and cut him off. His Grandmother sent him an allowance, but relations with his Father were "unacceptable" according to Wilson. Wilson was a tolerant man and unacceptable was a harsh judgement for him. Desmond tutored boys who had medical problems, so he had irregular hours at the club.
I was finishing my door man duties and going to the locker room when he came back to the club. He was disturbed. One of his pupils had taken a turn for the worst. I suggested he go to the lower floor and exercise. Activity might be good for him.
"I've only been there once," he said. "I was shocked that the men weren't properly dressed," he said.
I smiled, "They weren't dressed for the dining room, but they were appropriate for the pool," I said. "Would I be right in assuming the dress code at your home was quite formal?"
He nodded and whispered, "I've never seen openly naked men before. The pool was a shock."
"Come with me, the pool will be almost empty at this time of the day," I said. Desmond was a timid man. I was just a servant, but I think he was uneasy about possibly offending me. We went to the locker room.
"The rules of appropriate behavior and dress are entirely different in the club's lower level. They are informal," I explained. "It is acceptable to wear little or nothing at all, indeed that is required in the pool. Some men are of an affectionate nature. Let us just say, men often display that affection. Often other men reciprocate that affection in physical and intimate ways."
"I don't think I could ever do that," Desmond said.
"You do not need to do that. Some men enjoy physical responses, others may only observe." I said, "You might note that some men wear towels around their waists, other have it over their shoulders.
"They display their members?" he asked.
"Good men have no need to hide anything, do they? I replied. Luckily there were only two men there, the Major, a former military man and Gramps, a mellow older man.
"Come with us to the pool," they said to Desmond. He told them that he couldn't swim.
"If I told you that you will be swimming in an hour, would you believe me?" the Major asked. Desmond said he doubted that.
"You have insulted my honor Sir!" he said in the dramatic voice of a Gilbert and Sullivan officer. "Come to the pool and prove me right or prove me a Liar!"
"Desmond, I've known the Major for years. It's easier to do what he wants than argue with him," Gramps said as he laughed. A few minutes later the trio was off to the pool. The Major and Gramps had dealt with shy, unsure men before. They knew how to ease from being helpful to overtly sexual without offending their potential playmate. They knew more about Desmond's needs and desires that Desmond knew. Desmond was only barely acquainted with sexual pleasure.
Desmond learned how to swim and became erect at the same time. They pretended not to notice his tool until Desmond was floating on his back. "You have a handsome organ," the major said. "It is a beautiful display." Gramps leaned over and kissed Desmond's bloated cock head.
"My friend gets carried away when he sees a young man's organ at attention," the Major said. Desmond began to squirt, and Gramps quickly made sure that no seed entered the water.
"I'm so embarrassed," Desmond moaned.
"We are all men here. You are doing what makes a man a man," the Major said.
Gramps looked up. "I've taken most of it, but I think there is more of the food of the gods left if you would like a taste, Major," Gramps said. The Major took Desmond's tool into his mouth. I couldn't tell if Desmond had a second orgasm, of if it was part of the earlier event. The Major enjoyed whatever it was. Desmond became a regular visitor to the pool.
I asked the Searcher if he had any information about the Purity League. The Searcher was not a trusting man and was naturally suspicious. He held his cards close to the vest. He was a dumpy, quite forgettable man in the card room. Naked he stood out. He was muscular and had a natural Billy club hanging between his legs. While everyone admired it as a natural wonder, few could take it.
Eventually we played, and I was willing to take his club. It wasn't exactly painful, but it wasn't that pleasurable for me. While he was slightly too big for me, my tight hole was prefect for him. I asked him the slow down his thrusting. That was better for me, but even better for him.
He was enjoying it so much, I began to enjoy his pleasure. I felt a warm, affectionate feeling about him. He was almost glowing as he repeatedly eased his oversize member into me. I often tried to grip a man's tool to enhance the pleasure. I was so tight, I didn't need to do that. After a few minutes, I felt him twitch and then project a powerful steam of seed into me. Searcher was handsome as he seemed to inject the entire contents of his balls into me. I began to ejaculate. My twitches seemed to excite him. Searcher ejected still more of his man seed into me.
The Searcher was an intelligent man and helped my investigation as much as he could, given his position at the yard. Several days after our connection, he told me that while the League raised considerable sums of money promoting Purity, that money went directly into the Society President Malcomb Smyth-Warren's banking account. Malcomb's real name was Micky Smith, and he was a fraudster.
I went to find Ascot Mandrake to give him this information. Ascot was being massaged by Barnabas. I knew you had to be direct with Ascot, since he lost his focus when Barnabas slipped into his bum and began the anal massage. Ascot was sixty-four-years-old, but Barnabas had introduced him to unexpected pleasures. Barnabas' tool was large, but well-shaped for penetration.
Ascot was the fourth son of a high ranking noble and associated with men of his class. Barnabas was a common, common man and his tool excited Ascot. His forceful orgasms excited Ascot even more. He discovered that a flood of laborer seed was superior to aristocratic cock dribble.
Ascot had connections in the banking and charitable world and said he would investigate the Purity League. That was seconds before Barnabas' tool poked into his bum.
Barnabas had changed the sexual character of the club. Ascot had not been interested in back door activities. These activities had only taken place in the third-floor rooms. Now that Ascot realized the potential, men were more able to explore other activities.
Being dogged and persistent are good traits for a detective. I tried to develop these traits. You can not develop luck. It strikes like lightening, unpredictable and random. Desmond had a student who lived on Regents Park. The student was intelligent but delicate. Desmond was entirely proper with his students and was deeply offended if anyone suggested otherwise. Desmond came to know the boy's Uncle Rodney, and found they shared common interests.
Desmond shared some of the skills he had learned from the Major and Gramps with Uncle Rodney. Rodney was most appreciative. Rodney's sister and the boy's mother, Elizabeth, thought her son's weaknesses were due to sin, particularly Oscar Wilde's sin. In this modern age that was absurd, but desperate people are not known for rational thought.
Rodney's sister was a donor to the Purity League. When she went to Scotland on a holiday with her son, Rodney found her letters to and from the League. When Desmond found out about them he invited Rodney to the club. Visitors could only use the first and second floors of the club, although the hosts could invite friends to meet the guest in his room. Four men had to vouch for a potential member.
Ascot told me that the Major had twelve men support him. The major was sexually generous and was able to accommodate a cock in his bum and another in his mouth. He would have served every man in the club if he had time.
I had a chance to talk with Rodney. He loved his sister but despised the Purity League. He knew the league was taking advantage of her. Smyth-Warren sent her newspaper clippings of assaults and muggings with a note saying things like, "The League takes Action!"
While that was a clue, Smyth-Warren was a fraud, and he might well take credit for other persons' crimes. The fundamental problem of the League was its reliance on petty crime. The Searcher said that the League had over 10,000 pounds in the bank. If the ruffians from the Swan were involved, they could be bought for a few shillings.
The Major, Gramps and a third man, Marco came to the room to "interview" Rodney. Apparently, Rodney had easily passed the oral exam. I had seen, but not met Marco. He was young, handsome and sported an unusually long and thin member. In an anal test, and I knew it was the diameter, not the length that was a problem for most men. I left, but Rodney passed the exam with flying colors taking one load in his bum and two loads in his mouth simultaneously.
Elizabeth's brother, Rodney joined the League as a spy and made reports back to me. Smyth-Warren assumed Rodney shared his sister's beliefs. The odd outbreak of luck continued. Rodney became a friend of a man we called Marlow. He was an older man with a thin member crowned with a large knob. Rodney loved it. Marlow was a distinguished doctor, who became interested in Rodney's nephew. He was a regular correspondent with Pasteur and had a theory about the child's illness.
A year later an article in the Times described a medical breakthrough, by a Dr. Melbourne in a childhood disease. Marlow was the doctor and Rodney's nephew was the child he cured. One could say the child was saved by Rodney's urge to take cocks in his bum.
Rodney was able to identify several of Smyth-Warren's thugs. Several of the club members volunteered to be decoys as drunken club members on the way home. They were under the watchful eye of Black Tommy and Barnabas, assisted by the Major and the Searcher.
Gramps and Uncle Sam were the decoys. Gramps was able to imitate a drunk by drinking a lot. Two thugs moved in on them and Tommy and Barnabas made their move. The thugs were totally surprised and overwhelmed. Uncle Sam was quite aggressive. He made use of his normal bad temper to attack the thugs. The Searcher had told them that physical damage was acceptable, but not death. Badly beaten thugs would lick their wounds and move away. A death would bring in the Bobbies.
The Searcher knew several men on the force who shared his tastes. They took care of another thug a day later. The rascals at the Swan realized two shillings were not enough to do the League's dirty work. We had taken care of the immediate problem, but Smyth-Warren was still making money on the league.
I had no cases demanding attention, so I stayed at the Club with Tommy and Barnabas. While I could keep an eye on the situation, I thought of it as a vacation at a sexual resort. I grew closer to the Searcher; whose real name was John Walters. He loved my ass. It took a little while for me to fully enjoy his oversized tool. With each penetration I became closer to him. He wasn't demonstrative or emotional, but somehow his Billy club cock seemed to exude affection.
I was shocked at how comfortable the club members and I had become being nude and overtly sexual. Outside the walls of the club that wasn't possible in foggy London.
Several good things happened. Ascot Mandrake dipped into his fortune and bought the Swan and promptly closed the pub. The Searcher was trying to get the Purity League for fraud. The Bartlett Club had an asset to assist in that effort. A man called Dickens Hope returned to the club after a long absence. He was a newspaper reporter who had been doing a series of articles on visits to the distant parts of the Empire. Dickens was a short, bland and unimpressive man. He was the sort of man you might talk to indiscreetly not guessing he was a reporter.
Dickens had not been a regular patron of the Club. When he returned after the two-year trip around the Empire the Club had changed. Dickens enjoyed using a man bum to keep his member warm. In return for this service, Dickens was willing to lubricate the warm tunnel with his own man seed.
Barnabas had opened Ascot's back door and he had no longer had an objection to letting men enter through the rear. It had taken little time for the membership to adjust to the new recreational opportunities. I had assumed that most men would be aggressive, but not necessarily receptive. I was wrong. The anatomy of the ass and the configuration of the male member are varied.
Some men had organs that were designed for easy penetration. Other men were surprised to find they felt intense pleasure accommodating another man's tool. In the great variety of sexual responses, most discovered more intense pleasure at the Club. Dickens was one of these men. He was short, but his organ was not lacking. His balls were large, always full and easily refilled. Four or five orgasms a night was possible for him with no diminution of pleasure. He became popular. He was a great conversationalist in addition to his sexual skills.
He spent most of his time on the ground floor, but he was a popular guest in the third-floor bedrooms. He introduced some new men to the club, Ravi, who was probably the son of an Maharaja, and Zulu, an African prince, perhaps. The club members were not particularly open minded racially, but both men were horse hung and pleasant. The members were dazzled by the size of men men's organs, well before the discovered the men were pleasant and "Good Chaps."
Tommy, Barnabas and I were with Dickens, Searcher, Ascot, Ravi and Gramps in the pool getting acquainted. Since Tommy had been mostly outside the club, the men weren't that familiar with him. He was a well-endowed as were Dickens, Searcher and Ravi and they shared a mutual admiration. Ascot, Gramps and I were more conventionally equipped, but we were known to be accommodating. I was becoming quite attached to Searcher but had discovered I enjoyed watching other men squirming on his tool. His cock felt just as good in my bum after he had played with other men and he usually saved his seed for me. Tommy's tool visited Ascot bum. It was a tight fit, but Ascot was smiling.
When I told Dickens about the Purity League and Smyth-Warren, his eyes lit up. Dickens could affect a complete poker face, or an enthusiastic look that gave you the impression he was hanging on your every word. Searcher gave him some of the information he had found.
Three weeks later the Times published a long article about questionable charities and political groups. It was factual and did not exactly claim the groups were frauds, but no reader could have failed to come to that conclusion. The Purity League was featured in the article. Two days the Purity League's offices were empty, and Smyth-Warren had a one-way ticket to France. His bank had put a hold on his accounts, so he left the country without his ill-gotten gains,