Frederic S. Miller Museum of Art.
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 winarch47@yahoo.com
The Frederic S. Miller Museum of Art was founded by Frederic S. Miller, a man who made his fortune in rare metals. There weren't old fashioned rare metals like gold and silver. There were the metals needed in high tech products. In his later years he developed an interest in art and developed a fine collection. It was the reason for the museum.
It was locally known as the Miller Museum. Mrs. Miller, Sally Belle, was charitably known as a difficult woman. She had no interest in art. She liked to go to posh resorts. When they went to the French Riviera, Fred went to see the Louvre and loved it. Since his wife had no interest in art, he could get away from her.
Freddy was an electrical engineer. The engineering school required students to take a liberal arts course. The engineers discovered that the Introduction to Art History was the easiest class. Freddy took the class and loved it. That was partially due to the professor, Dr. Elizabeth Walters. She was a good lecturer, brilliant, engaging, young, and beautiful.
Fred could visit galleries and buy paintings and be both reminded of Dr. Walters and forget Sally Belle. He told his wife art was a good investment. His wife liked resorts and money, so she was still happy.
Fred's tastes in art mirrored his professor's excellent tastes. His collection was good. The gift of the museum and art was made in part to keep it away from his wife.
His wife's brother, Rudolph Winter, was the first director. He was a playboy with a degree in Art History. Against all odds, he was a good director. He hired good curators and partied with wealthy art collectors. He was beloved of wealthy widows and slept with wealthy men. It was said that Rudolph was well hung and had an ass that could accommodate the Washington Monument. By accident, the museum grew with a number of major gifts of art works.
Rudolph died seven years earlier and was replaced another member of Mrs. Miller's relatives, her nephew Phillip Winter. He was uninterested.
I am the current director, Everett Grant, my friends know me as Rett. My wife, Ellen, is an heiress and nymphomaniac. I am gay. We married because she needed a respectable husband, and I needed a wealthy wife. We are good friends and get along remarkably well.
I am well organized and love my job. I am a good judge of character and developed a gifted staff. Gifts donated when Randolph was the director were random. There was no theme or objective. My intention was to organize and clarify the museum's purpose. I also discovered Phillip Winter had fired the museum registrar three years earlier. There were no recent records. New donations were just stacked in the storage rooms.
I hired a new registrar, Thomas Dennis. Thomas was precise and quick. After three months on the job, he came to me and told me there were 397 missing items, not counting what might have vanished in the three years that the registrar position was vacant.
Since the museum was dependent on donations, having some works vanish was a problem, potentially a major problem. I hoped to handle it quietly. Thomas pointed out that two of the missing items had a five-figure value and another one was worth over two hundred. It was not petty cash.
I called a friend who knew an investigator who handled discrete embezzlement investigations. The Ames and Swift Company was all but unknown to the public. I met with the president, Daniel Ames at my house and explained the problem. He understood the situation and outlined a plan. I would hire an assistant for the new registrar, a guard, and a janitor.
All the rest would be done outside the museum. He said he had knowledge of the usual art theft conduits. He knew his stuff. There would be no publicity. Daniel Ames was physically unimpressive. He had a Don Knots like look, without the machismo. The missing paintings included a Frederic Remington and two Hudson River School landscapes. He said that was good, since it excluded most foreign buyers.
My connection with gay men in town were limited, but two men I knew mentioned Dan as member of the club and said there was more to him than met the eye.
"A friend of mine told me that we might share common recreational interest," Dan said.
"Was that Johnny Lewis?" I asked. "We hit it off when we met."
Dan smiled. "It was. He said you are lots of fun and most accommodating."
I told him my wife was visiting her mother for a week or so. Ten minutes later we were in my bedroom, stripping. Dan was not handsome, but his slim body was muscular. He had an oversized cock, long, thick, and uncut.
"Did Johnny mention some of my interests?" I asked.
"He described you as a size queen with an insatiable ass," Dan said. "Is that right?"
"Well, that's not on my resume, but it is accurate," I said.
"I like marathons more that sprints," Dan said as we moved to my bed.
Dan was not a romantic. He told me was professional who loved cock sucking and fucking. He was vigorous and enthusiastic. When he deep throated me, his tongue caressed my knob and shaft. He swallowed and massaged my cock.
He complimented me on my tight ass. "Johnny told me you were well used but still tight," "Some men have sloppy holes. How long were you able to play the virgin?" Dan asked.
I didn't answer the question, not because I thought it was insulting. His cock head had rammed my prostate and I couldn't talk because of the intense pleasure. Dan had impressive stamina, and the shot off just as I reached the point that I couldn't take any more. I relaxed as his warm cock cream flooded my ass.
"Sorry about that," Dan said as he pulled out. he was still ejaculating. "I usually ask before a breed a guy for the first time."
"That's okay," I said. "Are you done shooting off?"
"Almost. Do you want the last spurts?" he asked.
"Of course, I do," I said.
He immediately shoved his cock deep. "Tighten your sphincter. Milk the last drops out of me," he ordered. "Milk it as I go soft." I obeyed.
When his cock was soft, he pulled it out of me and dressed.
"Was it as good for you as it was for me?" I asked.
"I'm not a romantic, but cock fell in love with you," he said. "It was good."
He left and I slept very well that night.
I was afraid his sexual skills were better than his investigating skills. That was not a problem. The new assistant registrar, Tim, was friendly, pleasant and detail oriented. He got along well with Thomas and discovered three more missing art works. He also found seven pages of records which were newer than the pages before and after. These pages were done by a different printer that was not the museums.
Betty was the new guard. She was a painter and had a good background in art history. She was small, middle aged, perky, and friendly.
Waldo was the new janitor. He was an ex-cop who had been injured in the head. One side of his head was partially paralyzed, and his speech was affected. He played the village idiot, but his brain had been unaffected. People said things in front of him without worry.
While art theft was not a specialty of the Ames and Swift Company. They had connections with other security business that did. These companies had sort of a mutual assistance pact. They would help each other when needed. Swift was a specialist in embezzlement.
Dan was interested in missing property, especially with respect to estate fraud. The relationship between Mrs. Miller and the former museum directors raised all sorts of flags for Mr. Ames. Assets and objects are known to disappear or change hands when one heir does not inherit all that he or she expects. It was not unusual for an heir to feel they were more deserving of inheritance than a charity.
The Miller had two daughters, both of whom married well. Dan told me they married very well. One lived in San Francisco, and the other in Greenwich, Connecticut. They were close to their father, but politely estranged from their mother.
Steeling the Frederic Remington was a major error in Dan's opinion. There was a big market for the artist works, but they were easily recognizable. Corot and Sisley were good French impressionists, but not household names. A cultured and educated man or woman would not necessarily recognize their works. Remington is easy.
I met with Dan and an investigator who specialized in stolen art, Dudley Fairfax. Dudley was knowledgeable, articulate and gay as a goose. He was about my age, but he a master at computer searches. He had a direct connection to the major art galleries and auction houses. He also had access to lesser, less reputable dealers. Dudley has a program he called My Curious Friend. Once he found the smallest gap in security, My Curious Friend exploited it.
Dudley told me that my museums security software resisted his attack for two minutes and fifteen seconds. That was the record for the easiest to break in of any museum he had hacked. It was easy because it had been hacked five years earlier, by a friend of the previous director, Mrs. Miller's nephew.
Dudley went off to answer a cell phone call.
"You may have guessed that Dudley is an obsessive-compulsive man. If there is anything associated with art theft, he knows it or he won't rest until he knows it," Dan said. He leaned close to me. "Rett, Dudley wants to fuck you. Are you game?" he asked. "He has a big one."
"Are you going to watch?" I asked. I was taken aback.
"Hell no! We're going to double team you," Dan replied.
"Well, if that's the case, I'm willing," I said. That was supposed to be a nasty, cutting remark. That's not what Dan heard. He thought I said yes. Dudley returned and Dan told him I was okay with a little fun. There was a brief moment when I could have said no. Dudley dropped his pants, exposing his cock. I decided what to hell.
I pride myself about dealing with quick decisions. Most turned out to be right. Five minutes later I realized it was a good decision. Dudley's cock looked good. Erect it looked much bigger. It should have scared me, but I was excited and figured if I was going to die, I might as well die with a smile on my face. Dan fed his cock into my mouth as Dudley maneuvered his cock into my ass. I moaned as he pushed deep into me.
"Damn, it pretty," Dan said. "You're halfway in and Rett's not even crying yet!"
"He's a keeper, Danny boy," Dudley said. It was ten minutes later, when Dan flooded my mouth with sperm as Dudley filled my ass. When he pulled out, Dan went to my ass and coaxed some of Dudley's cum from my hole. I was lovely. Dudley left, but Dan stayed.
"We just moved to the top of Dudley's list. "You were accommodating. He likes that," Dan said.
"Do I have any say in this matter?" I asked.
"Nope, your ass said it for you. He knows you like it," Dan said. "Don't send him a letter saying you hated it. Your anal telegraph was begging him to go deeper."
"I'm not too sure about this," I said.
"Don't worry," Dan said. "Underneath the obsessive-compulsive exterior there a nice man. He's strange but we've been good friends for years. He's there when you want him, and you will get to like him."
I didn't want to admit to myself that Dudley's visit to may as wasn't what we called as a kid "not half bad." That was that period in early adolescence when you thought admitting you enjoyed something your parents wanted you to do was enjoyable. I had a warm feeling about Dudley's sperm deep in my ass.
Dudley was a straight gay man. He had no mannerisms or quirky behaviors on the television fags. I found out he had another persona and a flamboyant gay gossip. Officially he ran an art gallery. His marketing technique was to suck off or take the load in the ass of potential clients proving a sexual discount for men who bought art works. He would regale other art dealers with these stories, and they would tell him of the way they cheated of deceived clients.
Dudley was discerning and knew the difference between bragging and out right criminal activity. He knew the men who sell forgeries had no problem selling stolen works. I had a message that Dudley wanted to meet with me. We arranged a time.
My wife was out of town again so there was no problem meeting at my house. Dudley arrived at nine on the dot with another man, Maxwell Smith. Maxwell looked like over the hill wrestler, big, brawny and a bit scarred.
"We have a problem we need to share with you. Maxwell is in charge of the case for me," Dudley said. "I wanted you to hear what he discovered."
"To make a long story short, all indication is that Mrs. Miller and her family are at the center of the problem. It does not include her children with Fred. It's mostly her brothers and her nephews. She has a child from here first marriage. He is not involved."
"I didn't know there was a first marriage," I said.
"She was a cheerleader. The father was a member of the football team. They were married for two months. The grandparents of the football player raised the child. We don't know if Mr. Miller knows about the child," Maxwell said.
"The Hudson River paintings have just vanished, but I'm on the trail. The Remington was stolen for a collector. Philip took it. There was a fuck-up. The collector was elderly and died before delivery and payment was made," Maxwell explained. "Since this was a personal deal between Phillip and the collector, Phillip has to market the painting on his own. He doesn't have the right connections to the right people."
"Since this is a family thing, we don't know how Mr. Miller would take it?" Dudley asked.
"I'm not sure. Sally Belle is a difficult woman. The first bloom of love vanished decades ago," I said. "Miller might be relieved, or it might be too much to divorce her," I said. "She is the mother of his children."
We talked a while and then Dudley mentioned that we shared a common interest with Maxwell.
"I'm sure you have noticed that Maxwell is a big man. He is also big where it counts. I thought you might get along," he said.
"You think I'm a size queen?" I asked.
"You do know I have checked you out. I know you are honest, intelligent, and responsible. I also know you are accommodating," Dudley said. "One of your friends told me I should use the words telephone pole with respect to Maxwell."
"When I say I'm into a guy, I mean into him," Maxwell said.
I thought I should object to being described that way. Instead, I said, "Let's get naked and see what happens." We were in my bedroom a minutes later.
I am in control of my life as much as is possible with normal activities. Sexual fetishes are all but irresistible. We got naked. Maxwell was an inch or two more irresistible than I had even dreamed.
"Usually I can shoot off two, maybe three times," Maxwell said. "Is that a problem?"
"No," I said. "It's more of a dream come true." I dropped to my knees and licked his semi-erect member. The three of us got along well. They were a team. Dudley opened and lubricated my ass. He was gentle, but he went deep.
"You'll be careful?" I whispered to Maxwell.
"Sure, it's no fun at all if I rip you in half!" Maxwell said, "I like a tight ass. Now it might be a bit messy. We're both fully loaded."
"That fine," I said.
"I kind a knew that" he said. "Dudley told me you grabbed his cock with your sphincter and massaged his cock as he fucked you. I think I would like that."
"Rett's ass was born to please," Dudley said. Five minutes later he shot off, I milked every drop of sperm from his cock, and he pulled out. Maxwell lubricated his tool and eased it into me. My sphincter offered no resistance at all. He was four inches in me, and I tried to tighten my sphincter. I felt his cock twitch.
"You fucking hole is alive and Daddy's going to feed it some man milk! Your my baby and you just fell in love with my cock," Maxwell said.
It turned out that Maxwell was a lover not a fucker. His oversized cock caressed and massaged my ass. Since there was barely room for his cock and my prostate, I was intensely aroused. It was almost unbearable when his knob rubbed it. I was afraid I couldn't take any more. He knew that, and he pushed deeper into me.
Suddenly his cock began to twitch. His sperm spurt into me. Again, it was almost unbearable but I moved my legs so my ass would open and let him in deeper. He had it all in me. When he pulled out, Dudley's cock returned to my hole.
"I'm not fucking you. I'm just giving you a soft landing," he whispered. "Tighten up and grip my cock. It's not as big as Maxwell's, but it's nice, isn't it?" He lifted me so I was sitting up.
"Max come over here, Rett has a present for you trapped in his balls. Help him out with it," Dudley said.
After a minute or two of sucking, I fed Max my load as Dudley shot a second load in my ass. We broke apart, and suddenly Max's cock was in my ass again. He shot off again. They were due back at their office the next morning, so they left. I wanted then to stay, but I knew I needed to rest.
I talked to Freddy Miller the next day. When I explained what was going on he said. "Oh shit. I need to do some house cleaning." He thanked me, and I went to the museum.
Two days later I was surprised when I was shot as I left the museum. Fortunately, I tripped going down the monumental stairs in front of the Museum. My shoulder was all but destroyed, but my heart was untouched. There are bigger problems at the museum than I thought as I passed out due to the pain.