Date: Sat, 5 Dec 2020 07:29:11 -0500
From: Bob <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Catfish Retires 7

Catfish Retires 7
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.


Sanssouci was a major clue. It apparently meant carefree in French and was
a favorite name for summer homes, cottages, and retreats. It was Louis the
something or others chateau. George called Scotland Yard and they contacted
the French Police. The Count did not own the house. It belonged to Florian
De Monte. He was already suspected of buying suspect art works.

The Gendarmes got someone into the house, she found a massive collection of
stolen works and the house was searched by court order. Florian had
vanished. Days later, all Europe was on the lookout for him. Corsica is an
island in the Mediterranean Sea, and thus off the beaten track. The
Corsican Gendarmes, like the Bath Police, were not going to be shown up by
the big boys in Paris. They were efficient and effective. They found
hundreds of masterpieces, most were European in origin, but Chinese and
Japanese works were plentiful.

I would have thought that the number of works would overwhelm the
police. It turned out to be a great adventure for hundreds of museum
curators, art historians and graduate students. Adventures in art history
are more common for Indiana Jones than the historians. This was an
adventure for the historians who had a tendency towards anal retentiveness
and obsessiveness.  They could put these traits to good use as they tracked
down paintings.

A number of museums discovered that works supposedly in their storage
vaults were in Sanssouci. Since Florian De Monte was the main suspect the
police and Templeton's contacts could concentrate on him. I got a call from
my museum friends in Richmond. Years earlier they had recovered sixty
percent of the Hirsch collection and were hoping to find more of it.

Nazi loot is attractive in some ways. It was stolen 74 to 85 years ago, so
the trail was cold. Some of it was not well documented, and most of the
people who had it were publicity shy. It certainly was the sort of art that
was ideal for a crooked collector. Florian De Monte had all the traits of a
collector of stolen art works.

Deal had been careful with his purchases of artworks, but the people who
vetted the works were in his employ. He called me and asked if I knew some
independent experts. I said no, but I knew someone who did. I called my
museum friends, and they gave me a list. One name occurred on all the lists
Sydney Dolan. A day later he was on the way to England as a consultant for
Catfish & Company. He was to stay at the guesthouse with me.

I thought this might have a chilling effect on my recreational
activities. Sidney looked like an accountant working for a minor firm. He
was he was tall but looked a bit odd. He was the sort of man who could walk
past a white wall and vanish. He was unmemorable.

Sidney was all business all the time. He had good instincts about art
works, and he was obsessive about research. He seemed to have a massive
data base of obscure material in his mind. He had no problem with anyone at
the house. You had to be paint on canvass for him to notice you.

A week after he started working, he tripped and broke his ankle. When he
returned to the house on crutches, he noticed I was missing a leg and was
on crutches too. His ankle hurt some, but Sydney was shocked that something
like that happened to him. I am prone to be helpful and I gave him
firsthand advice on what to do. I was an expert in his eyes.

I loaned him Bobby and Matt, the rechristened Mouse and Lugg, to help
him. A day later we met in the shower. Sydney had an appointment that
morning and he was never late. I was with Bobby and Matt was with
Sydney. We showered together and I just happened to notice Sydney's
equipment. I hate to say it, but impressive genitals increased his appeal
greatly. Bobby told me later that Sydney had noticed mine.  When Sydney
returned that night, he was excited and almost sociable.  He had found one
fake Dutch painting, but he discovered there was another painting below the
fake one. Painting over older works was not that rare. The x-rays showed
the under painting was a study for a Hieronymus Bosch masterpiece. If it
could be proved to be by Bosch himself it would be rare and stunningly
valuable. It could have been a copy, but it was on a wood panel of the
right age.

He had also talked with Bobby about me. Sydney had a problem getting his
cock out at a urinal on crutches. Bobby helped him and mentioned he was big
like me. Bobby also told him I was a lot of fun. Sydney put a big cock and
lots of fun together and figured out the situation.

That night, Bert prepared an impressive dinner complete with fine wines. I
think Sydney was a Gallo man, and it was a revelation to him. Later that
night, Sydney came to showers while I was there. Bobby and Matt were
helping. Bobby became semi-hard and I followed suit as did Sydney.

"I had some bad experiences in showers when I was in school," Sydney
whispered to me.

"No one here is into bad experiences," I said. I sat on a bench and sucked
his cock. He shot off three or four minutes later. I took every drop.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm more than okay," he replied.

We dried off and went to my bedroom with Bobby and Matt. Sydney was soon
hard again and I sat on his cock. Sydney had a nice, meaty cock. It had
been fun to suck, but it was wonderful in my ass. It was the perfect shape
to hit all the right places.

He shot off in five minutes and fell asleep. Matt carried him to his
bedroom. Bobby was sucking me when Matt retuned. Sometimes Bobby used my
cock as a pacifier. Matt looked at me.  I knew what he wanted. I nodded,
and he rolled me on my side and eased his cock into my sperm filled
ass. His cock massaged my ass as Bobby nursed my cock. I was almost asleep
when Matt's ejaculations tickled my ass. I had a slow-motion orgasm, which
Bobby enjoyed.

The next day Sydney told me had had never topped before and he didn't know
anything could be that good. Later that day George came by. The discovery
of Florian De Monte's stash of stolen artworks was a major breakthrough,
the police had two tasks.  One was to find and capture Florian. The other
was to find the people who physically took the artworks.

I had been thinking about that. I assumed there may well have been multiple
agents involved in the stealing. The effort was so extensive, I assumed
there were inside people in some of the institutions. There also may have
been associates of collectors who betrayed them. George agreed with this
assessment.

The next day I had a call from George. He said he had some people he wanted
me to meet.  I told him to come over. An hour later he arrived with Jean,
and Elise. They were with the Corsican police. As they went through De
Monte's house the found two small ledger books, one of numbers and the
other of names. No one knew if it was a coded list or if it had any
relevance to the case. De Monte operated a vineyard and a breeding stable
at the estate so the ledger might have been associated with those
businesses. De Monte was computer illiterate. He did not use computers for
personal business.

Elise was a crossword fan, and liked puzzles.  She discovered there was a
list of galleries and museums, and each was assigned a number and a date.
It was a simple code. BM was the British Museum; L was the Louvre. The
dates were self-explanatory. A second list of numbers was unclear. related
to the person or persons who were associated with the museum or gallery.

De Monte was not a cryptographer. The lists were for his use only to keep
track of things. We knew when some of the recovered works were stolen. We
also knew the dates when some of the works were stolen by the Count. By
comparing those dates, Elise found the Count was 104-A. There were 107
entries for the Count's robberies. Jean located these robberies on a map
and thus he found the geographical focus of individual robberies.

Jean discovered that 76-2 was responsible for Paris and its suburbs. 56-12
worked in Israel and seemed to be responsible for thefts in the
mid-east. 95-1 was related to art looted by the Nazi's. I happened to
remember the name of the gallery that had handled parts of the Hirsch
Collection. That gallery was on the list.

Most of the robberies had been investigated but there wasn't enough
information to charge anyone. There were 52 thefts we could attribute to
76-2. It was now possible to look at the evidence for 52 robberies instead
of a single one. The Corsican police were covered in glory.

We also knew that the Count was active in the British Isles. By comparing
dates with thefts, a clear pattern emerged. He seemed to be focusing on
illuminated manuscripts. Since no manuscripts appeared in De Monte house,
there was another collector involved, or an undiscovered stash of artworks.

I called Sydney and asked to join us. He was excited by the new
information. Whatever you might say about Sydney, no one would accuse him
of being a well-rounded person. He was obsessed with art and its
history. When he looked at our list of dates and locations, he checked them
on his laptop, and came up with 13 thefts. He remembered some of the
details of the thefts.

In some cases, staff members were fired or unexpectedly retired. The fired
personnel were typical low-level persons. Higher level staff also
retired. In one case Sydney remembered meeting one of the retired staff
members who was living very well in retirement. It was a good day for the
investigation.

We had found a possible modus operandi for the crimes. The collector had a
stable of upscale thieves who served specific areas. They recruited
dissatisfied staff members of museums or associates of collectors to be the
inside men or women. They knew the storage rooms were significant works
were kept.

We knew the Count was one of the thieves.  He had inside men, but when he
fell on hard times, he only had second rate thugs to do the actual
stealing. We now had a massive increase in potential evidence. Our meeting
adjourned with everyone feeling good.

That evening after dinner I had a long conversation with Sydney. He told me
he had enjoyed our shower adventures, but he was confused and uneasy.

I asked him if he had ever done that before. He replied that he had sort of
done it.  I am not sure if sort of having sex was or was not sex. I asked
him what that meant.

"After my mother died my Dad sent me to a boarding school," Sydney
explained. "I have always been uncoordinated, and I am not at all
athletic. Most of the people had been in the school since kindergarten. I
didn't fit in well, and there were a bunch of guys who were bullies. I was
the new guy and their favorite target. Sex wasn't gentle or voluntary."

"I was lucky. I had a pal I experimented with. I met some older guys who
were not into domination," I explained. "I'm not sure that the that the
"take it like a man," thing is sex. I think it's a power play that week men
use to seem macho.  I have always seen sex as a recreational, enjoyable
activity. Some men enjoy sports and games. Some men just want to win."

"They must enjoy winning," Sydney remarked.

"Someday you are always going to lose," I said.  "We all get older and
there is always someone who is stronger and meaner. My Mom was a good
Presbyterian. She said St. Peter wasn't going to as you how many games you
won as you try to get into heaven. I'm sure he was not going to reward you
based on how many men or women you molested."

Sydney laughed. "I hadn't thought of it that way." He paused. "Why did you
let me fuck you?"

"You may not have guessed, but I like sex a lot. I like it all, but while
my cock is admired, some think it's more of a decoration hanging between my
legs than it is a useful sexual tool. I do confess there is a little
calculation involved. I have noticed that if a guy visits my ass, the
chances of my cock exploring his behind are greatly enhanced," I explained.

"There is method in your madness?" he asked.

I nodded. "Am I right in assuming you are interested in exploring man sex
further?" I asked. He nodded and then said he thought he would sleep on it.

That night Bobby and Bert showered with me.  Sydney didn't sleep that
long. He joined us. Bert went to help him and got him to a bench under a
shower head. Bert was already erect, and his cock was at Sydney's eye
level. Nature took it course. It was a good night for Sydney.

At three in the morning I had a call from MacDuff. A bomb had gone off near
the warehouse. There were casualties.  An hour later a small explosive
device had gone off at the Well's Cathedral library. Three people were
killed near the Warehouse. One died at Wells. My instincts were that
something was very wrong. There had been an earlier bombing and an effort
to take a manuscript. The new incidents were just as inept as the earlier
ones.

At Wells, the manuscripts had been moved to a bank vault, and the warehouse
had doubled its security provisions after the first bombing. I suspected an
unhinged mind was at work. Whoever that person was, he or she had hired
remarkably inept persons to carry out the crimes.

Crazy people are not my strong suit. I was possible that Antonio De Monte
was deranged. I also wondered if De Monte had a partner.

I thought that Deal might have an obsessive competitor. It was difficult to
find a second oil baron with an obsessive interest in art. I called
Templeton asked him to explore that possibility.

A day later the sun came out and things became clearer. The victim at the
Cathedral was Mr. Delacour, the choir director's cousin. He had been under
arrest but had been released on bond. Apparently, he decided to finish the
job that I had interrupted with my flying crutch. I realized the Choir
Director had probably been one De Monte or the Count's sub-contractors. He
was the first Vice President in charge of Ecclesiastical Robberies. I
called George and suggested that they go through Mr. Delacour's examination
by the Wells Police.

George also was going through all of the Choir Director's correspondence,
phone, and e-mail records. He also was checking the Choir Director's travel
records.

The British Police are sensitive about bombs. Bombings are rare in the
United States but were a daily threat for the Brits during the
Troubles. They knew bombs from top to bottom. By now the investigation
involved Scotland Yard, the local English police, most of the European
Police and international art theft organizations. I wouldn't say the
organizations were competing, but no one wanted to be found wanting. No one
would say the Bath, Wells or the Corsican Police didn't do their part.

Bombs are not dependable. Yes, they do blow-up, but surgeons don't use
bombs do surgeries for a good reason. You never know exactly what they will
do.  In Delacour's case the blew off his head and most of his torso, but
the lower half of his body was untouched. His cell phone and wallet were
also untouched.

When the Wells police arrested him, they found his wallet and cell
phone. Delacour led a double life and he had a second wallet and cell
phone. They had searched his apartment and not uncovered them. We didn't
know where they had been hidden, but they had them now.

George and Miller came over that afternoon to discuss the case. Sydney was
working from home, still savoring the discovery of the Bosch. George and
Miller stayed for dinner, and they got along well with Sidney. The
policemen knew nothing about art, but they were familiar with
robberies. They traded information. They all had good memories and it was a
productive conversation. The conversation was wine fueled, so Miller and
George spent the night.

We met in the shower. I had the feeling that my cock was a few sizes too
big for Sidney and my appearance was well below his standards. George was
ideal for Sidney's tastes. George was better looking naked then when he was
dressed. The rough and tumble of policework was hard on dress clothes. You
could see George was muscular and well equipped. Matt was helping Sidney
with is bad ankle, and he too was muscular and endowed. George and Sidney
were both shy in sexual matters. Matt was not, and he got the ball rolling.

I had noticed before that alcohol can make my cock more attractive. I
seemed to have become a beauty in Miller's eyes. Somehow Deal's fine wine
cellar turned Miller into a cock slut. Miller was usually up tight and
tense. He was on the way up and he wanted to avoid mistakes. A tense, up
tight sexual partner is not a joy to be with.

My cock was in the mood when he started to suck me. My hi-test precum
worked its magic on him. I was sitting on a bench; Miller was on his knees
sucking. Bobby was watching. He lubricated his cock and nudged it into
Miller's behind. He tensed up a little, but Bobby cock nudged Miller's
prostate and all was well.

Next to us George's cock was massaging Sidney's ass. When George got close,
he pulled out and Matt took a turn. Matt's cock was thicker than George's
member. Matt built up the pace.

We moved from the shower to my bedroom. I was on the bed with Miller
sitting on my cock as Bobby sucked his cock. Miller began so shiver. I told
him not to worry, Bobby loved sperm. He had all of my cock in his ass.  As
I was giving advice, I forgot to pay attention to my cock. I had a massive
orgasm. that pulled Miller's trigger. He shot off as Bobby took his load.

The next morning, I woke fresh and energetic. I think the massive sperm
dump of the night had cleared out some of the confusing aspect of the case.