Who Killed Koch Robin 3 By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that, DON'T read it! You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, and is not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual. No effort to portray safe sex practices has been made. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com
Junior told me that his relationship with Koch intensified. They were thinking about getting married.
"Did your father know about this?" I asked.
"No, but I told my sisters. They were fine with it," he said. "They may have told Dad, but we hadn't set a date. Dad would have been bad about that, but my sisters thought they could handle him. If he disinherited me, they would cut off relations with him. He likes them."
"He doesn't like you?"
"Not really. When Mom died, I took care of the girls. He said that wasn't the manly thing to do," Junior explained. "He was too busy to pay any attention to us, but he had standards. He wanted me to go to an out-of-state school and play football, not raise the girls. Dad said Clinton, his right hand man, would take care of the girls. Clinton likes them young and my sisters were scared of him. I promised that I would stay with them. They are away in college now. Everyone seemed to think I was a wimp, except for Koch. He understood," Junior added.
I did not think Junior was a suspect. It was possible he was a great actor, but I doubted that. He seemed genuinely shocked and distraught.
I called Woodrow and asked him what he knew about King Cole and Clinton. Of course, he knew a lot. King Cole was a plain, old-fashioned religious charlatan. "He is one of those men who appeal to a certain kind of uneducated man. He seems to attract those men who are too smart to need education. Clinton is a slick public relations man. He runs a big poling operation that finds out what way the wind is blowing and he tailors Cole's message to suit," Woodrow said.
"What about Clinton's personal life" I asked.
"He is a 100% born again Christian, waiting for the right woman," Woodrow said with a smirk. "Clinton is a big time family values man, but has no family. He taught school for ten years, but he taught at seven schools. I heard that he left quickly with no charges filed against him, but no severance package either. Reading between the lines, I suspect there were incidents and suspicions. Incidentally three of the schools were private girls' schools. He is estranged from his only brother. The brother has three daughters."
I told Woodrow about my conversation with Junior.
"I don't know the boy, but he seems to have more sense than his father," he said. "There were stories that Junior didn't have it in him to be his father's heir. It was not going to be a dynasty as seemed to be typical in the world of media driven religion. A gay marriage would have been a real shock."
"King Cole is not an accepting man?"
"Not at all, but it's worse than that. King Cole makes big bucks selling self-help books and DVDs. He claims that if you buy the books and raise your children according to his principles, you will automatically have pure, virgin Christian children. In that world a gay son is the worst thing that could happen to you."
Later I told Lance about Junior's interview. He knew much more about King Cole than I did. His Uncle was a member of the King Cole Posse. They were true believers in King Cole's bullshit and had a tendency toward violence. "My Uncle is one of those Christians who are so good and so virtuous they can't find a church that meets their high standards," Lance said. "He doesn't go to church but he knows everything there is to know about what God wants. Uncle Joe lives alone, feuds with his neighbors and listens to King Cole."
"My mom, who is an old fashioned Presbyterian Church lady type, said King Cole is the apostle to the angry and the stupid. Mom tends to be charitable, but she says Joe is too stupid to know just how stupid he is," Lance added. "His followers would go bat-shit crazy if the found out Junior was gay."
"Killing Koch wouldn't make Junior less gay," I said.
"You are thinking logically, not like an old, angry nut job," Lance said. "Uncle Joe was into Hitler before he found King Cole. The Posse is made up of that sort of men."
Lance had done more checking into Donna Robin's friends. She seemed to like either brainless socialites or borderline criminal types. That struck him as an odd combination.
I asked him how close the criminal types were to the border. "Many have records. Assault and battery and that sort of thing. The socialites have mostly DWI arrests and drug busts. Some of the problem may be due to youthful high spirits combined with low IQ. A few are in their later twenties and early thirties. They should have outgrown that by now. None of them seem to be gainfully employed," Lance said. "Donna pays their way."
"I talked to one of her former boyfriends," Lance said. "He told me she would rather buy her friends than be pleasant. He thought being nice to friends was too much effort for her. Incidentally, he had heard that a good chunk of Koch's money went to her."
If follow the money is a basic approach to investigation, we now had two possibilities. Koch's sister was the most direct beneficiary. I had not met Donna yet. I did not know if she was merely a spoiled brat or a sociopath. I know that being spoiled brat is stylish now and makes for popular but depressing television programs. That could hide deeper problems. I did not know if her friends could manipulate her, or if they might decide to kill her brother. That would solve her financial problems and they would hopefully reap the benefits.
King Cole ran a big organization that raked in cash from the true believers. Would a gay marriage take a big chunk out of the take? I called Pete DeTomas of the fraud division and asked him about King Cole. He said he could not talk now, but asked me over for dinner at his house that night. That was an indicator that King Cole's operation was a hot potato. Pete knew a lot, but he was careful about spreading information.
I was getting ready to interview Donna and explore King Cole's son's relationship with Koch when I received a call from Horace Quince. Officially, Horace was a public relations manager for the police force. Unofficially H.Q. was a messenger from on high. He brought messages from the powers-that-be that could not go through official channels. I was never sure who those powers were. Sometimes it seemed they were the Mayor and council. Other times they were the well-connected people who influenced the mayor, police chief and any others who occupied official positions.
Horace tended to be devious but he could be helpful. While I never trusted him, he was manipulative, but not evil. I rarely ran into him in my official role. I had been too low on the totem pole to concern him. I did see him often, but on a strictly unofficial level. Horace was both intensely sexual, almost sex crazed and deep in the closet. We had met years ago, and I was a safe sexual partner, since I was in a similar closet. My friends classified me as an obsessive workaholic who was too engrossed in my work to have any sexual life at all.
Horace and I had nothing in common except for sex. That was enough for both of us. He asked me to drop by his house after work and have a drink. Some times that was all sex, but other times it was to express concerns and information as well as sex. He lived in the penthouse of a high-rise apartment.
Horace was independently wealthy and his public relations work was unpaid. He did not officially have any role at all. He specialized in giving reporters information on deep background. As far as I knew, that information was technically true, but tended to slanted in a certain direction. I spent the afternoon going through forensic information and the medical examiner's report. These were not particularly helpful, but if I did not do it, it could cause a problem in a trial.
I arrived at his apartment at six. He had cocktails ready. Horace was tall, slim, perfectly groomed and dressed. He would have been a perfect lounge lizard in the 1930s.
"Brick, you do know that you have the case from hell?" he said as I drank a bourbon and water.
"The Koch Robin case?" I asked. Horace smiled knowingly. "We are looking at two possible groups of suspects, both of whom are well connected and very high profile," I added.
"I heard you had met Junior and had been looking into Donna's harem," he said.
"Donna's harem?"
"She has a stable of men who remain on call and available," Horace said. "She likes them to be financially dependent on her, but she has considerable sexual skills. At one time, I thought the attraction was her easy availability, but she apparently is good in bed too. I don't know if her sexual excesses are due to mental problems, or just her natural inclinations."
"She seems to have bad taste in men," I remarked.
"Koch was such a nice boy, it seems that she decided to be as bad as she could be to set herself apart," Horace said. "Again, that may be a mental problem."
"What about King Cole?" I asked.
"King Cole is pure, unadulterated, born-again, trailer trash," he exclaimed. "He is a classic con man. His wife was sweet and uninvolved in anything other than her children."
"Would having his son marry another man be a problem?" I asked.
"It certainly would," Horace said. "Most people think King Cole is over the top heterosexual, but he is actually over the top sexually in general. He is into men and women and would do sheep and goats if they were available. He is a slam-bang-thank-you-ma'am kind of man. There is no emotional connection or grace in his sexual life, but there is a lot of sex."
"How does he keep it secret?"
"He devotes a lot of his time to solitary prayer and meditation," Horace explained. "I met him when I was much younger and I doubt he remembers me. At the time I was excited by crude men and I thought he fit the bill."
"It was not a success?"
"Let's just say, it was very fast." Horace said. "It was a disappointment. I might mention that you have never been a disappointment in any respect." He stood and we went to the bedroom.
Underneath the carefully groomed exterior, Horace was a slim fit, Otter. We met because he liked crude, common men. He liked the way I look. I look like construction worker. Physically I turned him on. He wanted me to dominate and use him. I am not into that, but my body was what he wanted and it worked out.
Horace also liked one of my physical quirks. I have big balls and they tend to produce generous amounts of sperm. The first time we met, he sucked me off and he took the load. I then fucked him and he took a load in the ass. A little later, I fucked him a second time and I made a second deposit.
Until then, Horace had not realized that he loved man cream so much. Taking three loads in one night was a month's worth of sex for him. My cock was also thicker than he liked. I had stretched his hole, but the extra lube I injected into him made it better for him. The next time we met, I discovered the extra lube had made it a lot better for him.
He was 100% bottom, but I sat on his cock at our second meeting. As soon as his cock head cleared my sphincter, he was shooting. I could feel him squirting as I impaled myself. When he tried to lick his cum out of my ass afterwards, I knew that Horace was a sperm hound. I would have thought that an obsession with sperm was a thin reed to base a friendship on. I was wrong about that. We became friends with particularly good and generous benefits.
He was a great sucker and when we got used to each other he learned how to make it last. Horace like to keep things neat, so he took every drop of semen. He often kissed me afterwards and then fed me my load. Once, I spit it out onto his hole and shoved it into his ass with my cock. Even after an orgasm I am usually, three-quarters erect. Using my own sperm as lube gave me a definite tingle.
This made him shoot, hands free. It was that good for him. It was good for me too, as he shot off his ass twitched and spasmed. My cock liked that. I would slowly pump until I was hard again. After that, we usually did the same thing each time we got together. There was not much variety, but it worked for both of us.
He was sucking me when the phone rang. He did not answer, but he heard the message. "This is Tom, I am free after all. Pick up phone if you are there." Horace picked up the phone.
"I am here, where are you?" Horace asked. He heard the answer and added, "Let me put you on hold for a minute."
"Tom is a friend who would like to meet you," Horace said. "He is young, very handsome and into your type. He is also one of Donna's former boyfriends. You will like him."
"I don't know . . ." I started to say.
"You will like him a lot, I can guarantee that," he said. It turned out that Tom was outside the apartment house and he was at the door five minutes later. Tom was not what I expected; he was about thirty, a little shorter than I am, solidly built and handsome. He wasn't pretty, but he was attractive. He had a killer smile and a firm handshake. He looked me over. I was wearing only my jockeys, and the smiled more. We went directly to the bedroom. He was naked by the time I dropped my shorts. A second later, he was sucking my cock with enthusiasm and skill.
I am not prone to love at first sight, but soon I knew he was. He was too slim to be a bear, and too beefy to be an otter. His body hair was silky, rather than curly like my own. Horace stood back and he let us go at it. We sixty-nined and that was a total success. He had a beautiful cock, like a Greek statue, but bigger. He oozed rich thick precum.
"Damn, I love precum," he moaned as he sucked mine. I do not fall in love easily, but my cock had other ideas. I knew that his cock and my cock shared a common enthusiasm. I deep throated him and as I pulled back, he began to ejaculate. He shook, shivered and moaned as he unloaded. I took it all.
"Are you done?" I asked.
"I doubt it, I will be ready to go again in ten or fifteen minutes," he said. "Play with Horace and I will be ready to join in. Horace told me you are a good fucker. Would you mind if I watch?"
"Not at all," Horace said. Tom rolled to the side of the king-sized bed and Horace took his place. I was a little uneasy about being watched, but I was not a problem. Horace was accommodating as usual. He was on his back and I was slow thrusting, when Tom embraced me. He caressed my hairy chest and gut.
"Some girls told me I needed to shave my body," he whispered. "I like the hair; it's masculine." I knew my body turned him on. He was erect again and his cock rested on my ass crack. He rubbed his cock against my crack and I shifted to give him better access.
I had never been fucked while I was fucking another man, and I can recommend it highly. As soon as I was deep in Horace's ass, Tom would ease his tool into me. That would push me deeper into Horace. Ten minutes later, we had a triple orgasm. Again, this was a new experience and a good one.
We broke apart and Horace cleaned up the drool.
"Horace said you know Donna?" I asked.
"It would be more correct to say I knew her. We dated some in high school, but we grew apart," Tom said. "She was always demanding, but as she got older she became odd. She had everything a teenage girl could want, but she was not satisfied. She comes from a wealthy family, As far as I could tell she was on the top rung of the social ladder. I do not think they were wealthy enough. It was strange."
"Donna wanted to star in the school play, but she didn't want to learn the lines. She was one of the mean girls you find in exclusive private schools," Tom explained. "One of my friends said she was the type who would go to a friend's birthday party and be pissed the presents weren't all for her. I remember going to her own party and being told my gift wasn't good enough."
"She seems to like slumming now," I said.
"That happened after she went to college. She made it through one semester at Vassar and came home. She said it was not challenging enough. When she came back she went bottom fishing," Tom said.
"Did she get along with her brother?"
"No, she thought he got all the attention and her parents ignored her," Tom explained. "My mom said it was the other way around. Koch was a good kid who did well in school and was polite and courteous. Mom said it was a dream child, effortless. Donna became more and more demanding as she got older. Unfortunately she was Mr. Robin's little princess. She could do no wrong as far as he was concerned. She got all the attention, but it was never enough."
"Do you know any of her current friends?" I asked.
"Not really, but I met a few at a beach party a few years ago," Tom said. "They were drunk and had been taking pills. I left the party early. One of them ran into my car. Travis was driving Donna's Mercedes. I was at a red stop light. Travis was mad I had not run it and then he claimed it had turned green. It was a bad scene, but there were witnesses who backed me up. The police took an immediate dislike to him."
"It was lucky for Travis the police arrived when they did. He got in the face of a little old lady who had seen the accident. Travis turned vulgar and be became threatening. One of the other witnesses was a truck driver and he and another woman came to the woman's aid. The driver was built like Godzilla and Travis is a twerp," Tom added. "If Travis had just said he was sorry and it was his fault it would have been nothing. He got DWI and drunk and disorderly in addition to the traffic fines."
"Where was Donna during the accident?" I asked.
"She was drunk too and backed her boyfriend 100%," Tom said. "It is a surprise that she just lied. I was her friend at one time. The cops arrested her for drunk and disorderly, but her Dad got her off. By the way, you are either Donna's best and closest friend ever or you do not exist. There is no median. It is 100% or zero."
"A day ago a friend told me he had overhead a guy talking at a bar. The guy said that his bitch had just come into some big money and he had it made. The bitch was Donna. She joined him later. It was a little celebration. Donna said she had to spend the next few days at home until the funeral," Tom continued.
"Who was the man?" I asked.
"My friend didn't know him, but it was at a dive called Jim's Bar & Grill. He did not get the man's name; she called him Baby. He was heavily tattooed, with a ring of swastikas around his neck," Tom added. He had to go and he gave me his phone number. I stayed a little longer talking with H.Q. and then went home.