Date: Thu, 28 Sep 2017 03:20:22 -0400
From: bldhrymn@aol.com
Subject: Catfish Takes a Hit 5

Catfish Takes a Hit 5
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

If you enjoy these stories. Please consider giving a donation to Nifty!

I thought Mrs. Vienner's case was over, but it came back to life. We had
rolled up the Richmond operation, but Templeton's accountants had spread
the word to other banks and they uncovered similar bookkeeping
irregularities in Danville, Charlottesville, Norfolk and in Leesburg.

Ralph had been busy too. He was a good interrogator.  Ralph didn't give off
the aura of a nuclear scientist or brain surgeon. He impressed you as the
man next door. He tended to lob softball questions until he sprung the
trap. Con-men tend to think they are smarter than anyone else. They fell in
Ralph's traps easily.

He discovered that BeautyTemps was sort of a franchise operation that
operated in several cities. Someone had discovered this neat scheme to
defraud the elderly and then sold the ideas to people in different
locations. The main role of the originator of the scheme was to launder
money and serve as a fence. He or she took a percentage of the take.

Carl Fincastle's concerns about his son's death nagged at me. TR had been a
jerk, drug seller and rapist. His death was hardly tragic, but it had also
been convenient.  What had he been involved with and who else was involved?
For some reason, I believed Carl when he said he wasn't involved in drugs.

He believed his brothers were involved. That might or might not be true,
but even in a Mafia family, losing a child to a drug overdose might put you
off the drug business. I suspected that Windsor University had a drug
problem, but it was firmly committed to "family values" and would not
acknowledge it had any problems.

I had a former operative, Jimmy Whalen, in Windsor's security operation. I
got in touch with him to get the lowdown.  Jimmy was an unusual combination
easy-going, go-with-the-flow, Southern Redneck and harsh realist.  He had
been raised in a trailer park. He was smart, but could do a perfect
imitation of trailer trash.

Jimmy told me that campus security's main objective was to uncover problems
and crimes so that they could be effectively swept under the rug by the
Dean of Students. This seems to have involved cash payments by the
offenders' parents to victims and generous donations to the school.

The school was expensive and somewhat secluded. Students had to live in
dorms for their entire college term. The school had a mass of regulations
and rules that gave parents a sense that this was a good place to send
their problematic children. The exception to the living in dorms rule was
fraternities and sororities.  That is where boys could be boys and girls
could be girlfriends.

Jimmy had a pal in the Dean of Students' office who handled "problems."
This pal, Grant, was unhappy with the University. He had been doing the
dirty work for the Dean, but had been passed over for the assistant Dean
position.

"Grant thought that if he did the work of covering up problems, they would
have owed him something. It turns out that when you do that they seem to
think of you as a janitor doing clean up, not as dean material," Jimmy
said. "By the way, my pal is deep in the closet, but the administration
thinks he is suspect, since he is not married. He doesn't even look at
students with lust in his eyes.  He likes me and I bet he would really like
you."

"He's the opposite of a cradle robber?" I asked.

"Grant likes rednecks and construction worker types," Jimmy replied.

Two days later, Grant came by to see me at my apartment at 9:00 in the
evening. He was uneasy about being seen during the day. Grant was a
good-looking man in his later 30s. He had the look of a State Trooper or a
Marine, even though he was wearing a suit. He had a file with him. we had a
beer or two and talked.

I told him I was interested in the death of TR. Grant knew TR well.

"TR was a problem from the day he entered Windsor until the day he died,"
Grant said. "He was a born leader of weak minded boys. He seemed cool and
sophisticated and had a skill at getting other kids in trouble."

"He didn't seem to have any problem direct action with rape," I said.

"That surprised me," Grant said. "Usually tries to get one of his followers
to do the criminal things." He paused. "When I think about it one of his
pals died over the summer of a drug overdose. That kid was trouble too. I
suspected that TR was the brains and his pal was the guy who did the deed."

"You make Windsor University sound like a bad place to be," I remarked.

"I was thinking about that as I drove over. I've been there for almost ten
years, the number of incidents seems excessive," he said.

"It's not coincidental?" I asked.

"Windsor is an expensive school for average students from wealthy
families. Most of the students are harmless, but lack direction or
purpose. We don't flunk out students and we don't expel students for
anything less than murder," Grant explained. The President says that we
give our students a change to grow up."

"That growing up process is very expensive for the parents of our
students. Many of them think that a donation of only one or two hundred
thousand dollars is a good deal, especially if it keeps the kids out of
their hair. The last thing a millionaire wants is to have the child of his
first wife hanging around the house with his third or fourth trophy wife,"
Grant continued.

"Is this just a way to increase the donations?" I asked.

"I'm not sure it is as baldly opportunistic as that, but if I stand back,
that might describe the situation," Grant admitted.

"I take it drug use plays a role?"

"When you have a bunch of rich kids who will inherit more money that they
will ever need, are lazy and have nothing but time to fill up, drugs fill
the need," he said.

"Was TR dealing?"

"He wasn't a user, so I hadn't considered that," Grant said. "Usually
student dealers start as users. I hadn't known about his family's criminal
connections. There would be one odd thing though. TR was from New York. The
drugs we have been dealing with are local, homemade."

"Not New York Mafia, but Bubba and Sue-Ellen working from their
double-wide?" I suggested.

"We found a batch and turned it over to the police. They analyzed it. I was
what they called Goochland Gold," Grant said. Goochland was a county just
to the west of Richmond. It was a preferred site for mini-mansions on
ten-acre lots as well as an indigenous population of rednecks and a few
farmers.

"How would students connect with the Goochland people?" I asked. Grant
didn't know, but I bet that Jimmy would have some thoughts on that. He was
New Kent County resident and he knew they ways of rural Virginia Low life.

Grant was uneasy when we first met, but a few beers and casual conversation
helped him to relax. He was a good-looking man, toned but not overly
muscular. He was over six feet tall and maybe 180 pounds. We talked about
the case and being shot. He was interested and sympathetic and I could see
he would be a good councilor for troubled students.

"I work with students who have problems, but I never had one who has lost a
body part. If I asked you about that, would it bother you?" he asked.

"Well, it hurt a lot and it aggravated me. I wish it hadn't happened, but
it did and that can't be changed. The leg is gone," I said. "I tend to be
cheerful, and I can't look back with regret. My mother is the same. When
Dad died, she went to work and did what she had to do to keep us a
family. She told me that she missed Dad, but crying took too much time."

"Even when I was young, I knew things were difficult, so I pitched in when
I could," I explained. "I'm a small, unimpressive guy, but I could never
sit on the sidelines and watch. I get involved."

"Did you get beat up a lot?" Grant asked.

"No. My Uncle Jake said I was small, but mean," I said.

"How did you get the nickname Catfish?" Grant asked.

"Some of the guys at school called me "the Shrimp." I matured early and the
coach saw me in the showers. A guy called me the Shrimp and the coach said
it looked to him that I sported a big one-eyed Catfish and it surely was a
keeper," I explained. "I was 14-years-old and the story was all over the
school by the end of the day.  I wasn't sure about being called Catfish,
but my Uncle explained it better to have a big ol' Catfish than a shrimp."

"Did the girls flock to you?" Grant asked.

"A big cock did not make up for being an ugly, hairy guy," I said. "It
turned out that those problems didn't bother some men," I said.

"That doesn't bother me, either," Grant said. "Is that a real story about
you name, or just a come on?"

"It is a real story, but if it works as a come on, I'm fine with that," I
said. I undid the top button on my shirt. Grant loosened his tie and we
were off to the races.

Grant was just a good looking naked as he was dressed. He was tanned and
had a manscaped hairy chest with a treasure trail to his cock. His cock
wasn't exceptional, but it was pretty. It may sound odd, but he was more
turned on by me than I was by him.

Jimmy told me that Grant liked rednecks. I soon realized he liked ugly,
bald, hairy, horse-hung rednecks with one leg. Apparently, I checked every
box on Grant's list of fetishes. This was odd for me. Usually I am pretty
aggressive, but I didn't have a chance.  He was all over me.

I was a bit taken aback, but I adjusted quickly, and we moved into the
sixty-nine position. Once I tasted his cock ooze, I became more
enthusiastic. Grant was like a six-year-old getting a bike at a birthday
party. He came close to deep throating me and I began to spurt.  A second
later, he shot off. A minute later we were both contentedly licking up the
remains of our orgasms.

"I don't know what got into me. I didn't expect it," he said. "It was
wonderful."

"I'm not complaining. It was good for me," I said. "You didn't expect the
orgasm?"

"I didn't expect my reaction to you. I usually don't take cum," he
added. "I've never enjoyed it before. I'm not exactly inexperienced
sexually. This was different, much more intense. I'm feeling embarrassed,
as if I am naked in front of strangers."

We talked and I realized that Grant was a conventional, straight arrow sort
of man.  While he wanted to be conventional, his cock had other ideas. He
wanted to fit in, but his sexual tastes were not co-operating. Windsor
University was a bad place for him. He wanted to help the students, but
instead he was helping them get out of trouble without dealing with their
problems.

I felt sexual urges rising again. He said that he needed to go.

"I ready for round two, if you are into it," I said. Grant looked sheepish.

"I would like that, but it is only sex I am after. I don't think it's ever
going to turn into anything more," he said.

I smiled. "Grant, you need to discover the advantages of meaningless sex!
There is nothing wrong with that. Maybe we will never see each other
again. We may remain acquaintances, we may become friends, we may become
fuck buddies. Whatever happens eventually doesn't mean we can't have some
fun along the way," I said. Grant stayed and all was well.

The next day I called Ralph and told him about TR and the disconnect
between his New York background and the Goochland Gold. Ralph was
interested. I also called Carl Fincastle and told him that there seemed to
be a local connection. I mentioned Goochland Gold.

He thanked me, "At least we can have a family dinner without worrying about
poison in the desert. Maybe I can find something about that Goochland
stuff," he said. "I know some guys."

"You do know there will be big trouble if some local druggies turn up
dead?" I said.

"Think of this as a thank you gift," he said, "I hope I can get my marriage
back on track." I mailed his check back to him.

Ralph was on a roll, contacting the Goochland police and the State
Troopers. TR's death pushed the search for Goochland Gold manufacturers up
to a higher status in the law enforcement word. Some coordination between
police uncovered that the bullet in a Goochland murder matched several in
Richmond's Church Hill area. There had been a spike in shootings in Church
Hill and a trigger-happy man in Goochland might be the reason.

Grant visited me a week later and he ran into Templeton who was visiting. I
had never seen love at first sight, but Templeton was all that Grant could
want in a man. We talked for a while. Grant explained his situation to
Templeton who told him to get a new job.

"You are the janitor who is cleaning up the messes left by poor
students. You may do it well, but they will always associate you with
problems. You will never advance," Templeton explained. "The entire
situation is suspect. Something will go wrong, there will be a scandal, and
you are the obvious fall guy."

"You think they would do that?" Grant asked.

"They will throw you to the dogs," Templeton replied. "You need to resign
and escape."

Templeton knew everyone who was anyone in the city. He was one of the
people who is knowledgeable and helpful. He also knew several members of
the Windsor Board of Trustees. Templeton was attractive, gay and
openminded, the prefect man for a trip to the wild side for a closeted
executive.  Templeton said some might be interested in his story.

"I could get in trouble for that," Grant replied.

"Windsor University could get in deep shit if this bribery scheme became
public. The men I know can solve problems without a whisper of
impropriety," Templeton explained. "This scheme may have worked for a
while, but if it became public it could destroy the school. No one is going
to send their son or daughter to Rape U.  It may have been a clever
fund-raising scheme, but the downside is too great."

We talked for a while longer, before Grant asked if we were old friends.

"We've been friends for a long while," I said.

"We have been friends with benefits, not lovers," Templeton added. "Catfish
has helped me with investigations, but we knew each other long before
that."

"Maybe I should leave," Grant said, "Three's a crowd."

"In our case, three is a party," I said.

"I've never done anything like that," Grant said in an unconvincing voice.

"Templeton and I have always engaged in no-fault-sex. If we get together
and things work out, all is well.  If it doesn't work out we just forget
about it; no blame, no recriminations," I explained.

"Do things often not work out?" Grant asked.

"Not yet," Templeton replied. He was smiling. A little later it was clear
that this was not going to be the first unsuccessful experience.

Both Templeton and I tend to be sexually generous and have a lot of
practice with gay sex. Grant had been too reserved to experiment or relax
in a sexual situation. once we got goings, Grant relaxed and allowed
himself to enjoy sex. It began as all oral, but when Templeton straddled
his head to feed him his cock, Grant's erect organ was rock hard and looked
lonely to me. I straddled it and took a seat.

Grant had never fucked a guy before and he loved it. Templeton noticed
Grant's reaction. When I got off Grant's tool, Templeton took my
place. Templeton and I are normally tops. Templeton was exclusively a
top. Grant must have inspired him.

I would hate to be considered a calculating man, but I had noticed that
many men think that turnabout is fair play. Once they had fucked a guy,
they would eventually take that guy's cock. I suspected Grant would open
his ass for one of us.

Nothing happened publicly the next two weeks. Templeton had a little dinner
with Grant and a member of the Board of trustees on Windsor
University. Grant had resigned and a week or two later the Dean of Students
resigned to pursue other opportunities.  Few months later the President
resigned. As I had guessed there was no messiness or controversy.

Ralph got a few tips that aided the investigation of the Goochland Gold
manufacturer and sales.  Ralph was surprised the tips were from the New
York City police who assured him they were from reliable sources.  Things
fell into place quickly after that.

The State Police launched a series of raids, one of which resulted in what
was nearly a western style shootout. I admit that when your double wide is
surrounded by police, a shootout is a bad idea, especially since the walls
weren't thick enough to stop a bullet. Two guys were killed and two
wounded. One of the dead had a weapon that had been used in three Richmond
murders.

Ralph dropped by to give me the details. He was now the brightest star in
the Richmond Police force. His ex-wife was talking to him again and he had
reestablished his relationship with his kids. Templeton and Grant came by,
and Templeton told him about the successful fraud investigations of his
bank. Grant was working with the local public university. This time he was
counselling students.  Things had turned out well for them. I was good too,
except I was short one leg.

The door buzzer rang and Skippy, the Lawyer joined us. He had been doing
much of the work pro-bono for the staff the restaurant staff. That turned
into a gold mine of good will from the neighborhood's residents. He had
become that rarest of species, a highly respected criminal lawyer.

I knew all the men in my living room were gay. While I was more than
willing to have some fun, I had no idea how to get the ball
rolling. Apparently, the men all assumed if the other guys were visiting me
they were probably were gay too.

"Well guys, I hate to be direct, but I came here hoping for a little
one-on-one with Catfish," Skippy said during a lull in the
conversation. "I've never done a five-on-five, but it might be fun. Are any
of you game?"

"For any of you who don't know Skippy, he is always direct," Templeton said
with a smile. "For those of you who don't know me, I am always game!"

"I would love to see your shower room again," Ralph said. "I wouldn't mind
a quick shower." For the next hour-and-a-half the five of us has a good
time. Ralph liked Templeton and Grant who were both conventionally
handsome. Grant liked men who were construction-redneck types. Ralph and
Skippy filled those roles. Ralph was plainspoken and direct, Skippy had a
Buddy Ebsen type charm. It helped that we were well equipped.

A friend had once described Templeton and me as being "sexually generous."
I think that might have been the same as being horney as hell, but no one
was left out. Let's just say that no cock or ass was neglected. Grant and
Skippy connected, while Ralph went for Templeton. I discovered that
Templeton had introduced Grant to sexual use of his ass. Templeton was
small, polite, well-groomed and well endowed.

Somehow you thought it was an honor to have him in your ass.  It took him a
long time to shoot off, but you were pleased to keep his sperm warm, deep
in your ass. Men seemed to think it was an achievement to take my cock. I
told them I might try to keep from shooting off in them, but sometimes my
cock had different ideas. For most of them a load of my sperm was good, but
some were glad that they couldn't get pregnant.

A few were unhappy I had shot off, but few were so unhappy they didn't come
back for a refill. I noticed that some of the unhappiest seemed to crave my
seed when we connected a second time.

We had been drinking a little before we played in the shower. Apparently,
we had drunk enough for everyone one except me to lose their inhibitions. I
didn't lose them because I don't seem to have any inhibitions. It was good
night.