Date: Thu, 22 Nov 2012 12:47:22 -0800 (PST) From: Bob Archman Subject: The Great Man The Great Man 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, any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com If you enjoy these stories, please consider donating to Nifty. If being a hypocrite is a uniquely human characteristic, Saunders F. Bowman was the ultimate human being. He was a hypo-hypocrite or perhaps a mega-hypocrite. Saunders was a self-made man, if self- made means he inherited every penny he possessed from his father. He father was no fool and had his estate run by competent businessmen and women. Saunders believed hiring good people was the same as being a good man. Saunders never gave credit to anyone other than himself. He golfed every day, took long weekends, vacations, and from time to time went on a sabbatical. In short, he was lazy, but to the outside world, he was a captain of industry and a pillar of the community. Luckily, while he never gave anyone else credit, he paid well, very well and he didn't bother the people who did the work. At some point in his life, he found god. His god liked rich and successful men, and showered wealth on them. His god punished the unworthy with poverty. Technically, his god had a connection with Jesus, but as far as I could see, the only connection was that they both had a beard. Saunders hated sin, sinners, perverts and whiners. He despised people who didn't know their place and didn't know how to show proper deference to his elevated state. I am Conrad, his manservant, or valet. I knew him as well as anyone, up close and personal. I was one of the few men who knew Saunders was a flaming faggot. He was a queer as a three-dollar bill, a Nancy boy. He was a classic, violently, antigay fag. In public, he ostentatiously didn't drink; in private, he was a binge drinker. When he was in public, he tended to burst into prayer and sermonize. In private, he never mentioned the subject and didn't have a Bible in the house. He had an assistant to produce his spontaneous religious outbursts. In normal man, this would be a problem, but Saunders was not introspective. If the first rule of an educated man is to know yourself, Saunders had not even made it to nursery school. I am a gay man and I know I am gay. Why do I work for him? Well, I mentioned he paid well. I had hit a bad patch in my life when Saunders hired me. At first, the cash made all things good for me. After several years, that wasn't enough. Working for a grossly insensitive, crude asshole can wear on you. By that time, the sex was too good to pass up. Saunders was fickle and I got his left overs. After several years, I knew what Saunders liked and he discovered I had very good taste in men. Saunders was a jerk and things could get out of hand when he had a bad playmate. There was a chance he might have a spoiled brat tantrum and do something illegal. I had the job of sampling the potential lovers and insuring that didn't happen. Saunders was a law unto himself and had a tendency toward sadism. I was there to make sure that didn't happen. Saunders had odd tastes in men. While he liked young men he could "help with their careers," he also had a taste for rough trade. He loved it when he could dominate rough, crude men. Truck drivers, construction workers and prison guards were his favorites. While he wanted to dominate and abuse these men, once and a while, he wanted to submit. Saunders was a top, but if his playmate was big, he wanted it in the ass. Curiously, while he was deep in the closet, he also had exhibitionist tendencies. Usually I watched his sexual interludes from behind a two-way mirror, although I provided toys and sexual stimulants as required. I was in charge of getting the men dressed and out of the house when he was done with them. There was one good aspect to that chore. Saunders wasn't particularly satisfying as a playmate. Many of his playmates were cocked and loaded, but Saunders never pulled the trigger. Saunders typically fell asleep after an interlude. I knew how to pull the trigger. It would be wrong to say I like any man who possesses a cock, but it wouldn't be that far wrong. I tend to be open minded and willing to try just about anything that is hard and spurts sperm. I was looking for a man for Saunders who would have some fun for a while. He would then be paid and promptly vanish when Saunders got tired of him. I repeat Saunders paid very well. Luckily, Saunders never mixed his real personality with his media personality. He owned a penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park and a country house on Long Island. That is where he lived with his wife, Eleanor and his two daughters. Eleanor was a good woman and the girls were pleasant enough. Eleanor's father had been in serious financial difficulties. By marrying Saunders, the difficulties vanished. She kept up her part of the deal, but led a largely separate life from her husband. I do not know who the father of the children was, but he apparently was a better man than Saunders was. Saunders had a getaway in the Adirondacks, Camp Chasm Falls. He joked about living in a Hen house and being afflicted by his wife and the girls. He claimed he needed to get away to a peaceful and quiet place. In fact, he and his family were rarely in the same house at the same time. Saunders liked the spotlight and trips to speak or appear on talk shows were a good excuse for him to be away. Eventually I became the head of staff at Chasm Falls. Saunders hired an English butler and valet for New York after watching Upstairs, Downstairs. I wasn't pretentious enough. I moved to the camp, but visited New York City regularly. I am a New York boy and I assumed that places other than the city were essentially a gay desert. After several months, I discovered there were more natural resources in the Adirondacks than trees. This was a pleasant surprise. Wayne was my first find. He was close to being an old-fashioned mountain man. He looked as if he was in his fifties, but was barely out of his thirties. The massive beard covered a young face. At one time, he would have been a guide, but now that most of the Adirondacks were a State park, guides were not much in demand. He spent his time doing odd jobs for the remaining residents. Wayne could do just about anything you asked him. He was a Jack-Of-All-Trades. Unfortunately, most of these trades didn't pay well. Camp Chasm Falls was a collection of century old log cabins in need of continual repair. That was ideal for Wayne. He knew how to fix things. He was cool and reserved until I paid him the first time. He warmed up considerably. I'm not a flamboyant man, but he realized I was gay quickly. One of the porch columns of the main lodge began to give way. It was a tree trunk that had been stripped of its bark, but was otherwise natural. Wayne found another trunk of the same size, and then replaced the rotten one. He did a great job, staining the new trunk so you couldn't tell it was a replacement. It was a rare hot day and I brought him beer when he finished. We had several beers and he asked me if I was gay. I said I was. I didn't know where he was going with that comment. I had just given him a generous check for the work so I assumed he was happy. I don't back down when confronted by the obvious. "Do you do that gay stuff?" he asked, "Stuff like sucking cock?" "Only when I get the opportunity," I replied. "It sounds to me that of that stuff might be fun," he said. Wayne had lowered his voice. "Have you tried it?" I asked. "Sort off," he said. "One of my girl friends did it. I was okay. I've heard gay guys do it better." I smiled. "If practice makes perfect, I'm close to being as good as it gets," I said. "It's a hot day, why don't we go for a swim in the pool." Wayne was no fool. He knew exactly what I had in mind. The pool was on the other side of the lodge. The site was heavily wooded, but the pool was in full sun, so it was warm. It was late in the afternoon and we were alone. We went to the pool, stripped and jumped in. Wayne was comfortable getting naked. When I saw his cock, I knew why. Well-hung men were good about showing off their equipment. We swam, but eventually he sat on the edge of the pool and I sucked him off. I had assumed Wayne was the strong silent type. He was strong, but appreciative. His cock was uncut, thick and oozed sweet ball juices. Hanging below the cock were two, grade A, extra large balls in a furry sack. He had extra skin so my tongue had to ease it back to expose the knob. Sometimes the knobs of uncut men seem extra sensitive; that was the case with Wayne. He shivered when my tongue caressed it. Wayne was really excited and he shot off quickly. He erupted with no warning so I took a mouthful of his special baby making seed. That isn't my favorite sexual feast, but it was better than I expected. It was great for Wayne. I expected him to leave after the orgasm, but he stayed and we talked. "No one has ever done that for me before," he said "Done what?" "You took my load," he replied. "It was really good for me." "You had a good load, it was hot and tasty," I said. "There is a lot more where that came from," Wayne said. He was briefly silent. "Do you take it in the ass?" "Do you want to do that?" I asked. "You're a big boy. I haven't taken one as big as you in a while." That was more or less true. I hadn't taken one as big as he was, but I remembered every detail of the last time fondly. I had loved it. "Do you want to fuck me?" "I sure do!" he exclaimed. "I've done my share of plowing, but I've never seeded anyone. They make me pull out." We went into the Camp to my bedroom. By the time we got there, he had recovered from his orgasm and was rock hard again. I had lube in the bedside table as well as a bottle of poppers. He covered his cock with lube as I did my ass. "Can you get on your hands and knees?" he asked. That was isn't my favorite position but I did as he asked. He positioned his oversized cock at my small hole. I took a snort of poppers, and he pushed. A second later every inch of his organ was in my ass. I was winded, but it was good. "Damn, he exclaimed. "Are you okay? This is great." He was still, but then began slowly to pulse his cock. It had been good for me; it got better. He pulled me up and took me too the bed and then fucked me for the next half hour. While he fucked, he became a lover. Wayne seemed to be a natural edger. While he was excited, he could hold back and stay on the edge of an orgasm. He came close to shooting every time his knob passed through my sphincter, so he kept his cock head on the dark side of the tight ring. Fortunately, his natural juices were enough to keep me lubricated. It was good. He also tried out a variety of positions. I began to feel as if I was just an extension of his cock and lost a sense of my own personality. I wanted only to give him pleasure. Wayne was a surprise. The longer we played, the more affectionate he became. Fortunately, sex is its own reward, and Wayne knew a good thing when he found it. I tend to be an accommodating man, and I was more than willing to make this a good experience for him. I had the impression that his sexual experiences hadn't been good. I saw him as a good-looking man, but he was about as unlike the typical matinee idol as you could get. He was the type of man who was much more attractive to other men, than to women. We had a good time, but sometimes there is some buyer remorse the next day. That is a special problem for men who have had a conventional life. They may take a trip to the wild side, but are uneasy the next day. That wasn't Wayne's problem. He was back working the next day and he was ready for a swim at the end of the day. He was more relaxed and the sex was better. Wayne was a happy man. He had thought real sex with another person wasn't in the cards for him. At age 35, a new world of sexual excitement opened for him and he was ready, willing and able. I discovered Wayne wasn't quite as virginal as he seemed at first. He had some old pals from his childhood. They had experimented. The experiments never actually amounted to sex, but Wayne guessed they were interested. Wayne and I had talked a lot and he knew I was experienced and willing. Wayne wasn't interested in settling down in a vine-covered cottage. He wanted fun. I wanted the same, and I told Wayne that. I may have mentioned my ass liked some fun too. Wayne said his pals weren't lookers, but they were nice guys. I was a bit uneasy about what Wayne might think was not a looker, but I was game. The next day he had to work on the boats, and Wayne needed additional help. He appeared with Brad and Elvis. They were ugly and scary looking, but I found out they were just good men with exceptionally poor fashion sense. They worked hard, and well. As a city boy from the Big Apple, I was good about telling real people from bull shitters if they were from Brooklyn or the Bronx. I was lost with the country boys. Wayne had good judgment. At the end of the day, we had a beer or two and went to the pool. "I like bare assed swimming," Elvis yelled as he did a belly whopper. Brad was tall and thin, and wore a mullet. Elvis was a beefy guy, who had Elvis' body type as he got older. The splash was spectacular. Wayne swam over to me. "I kind of told the boys you like it in the ass," he whispered. "Maybe I was speaking out of turn. They would really like to fuck. I guess you could say they don't get out much." I smiled and said, "Well, I have been known to help a man in need." "There are three of us. Could you help all of us?" Wayne said. "I really liked it. I've never felt so good. Shit, I didn't know it could be that good." "Have you ever heard the phrase sloppy seconds?" I asked. "Sure," he said. He thought a minute. Then his face brightened. "It's not about leftover food at a covered dish supper, is it?" he said. "I don't think I would mind that at all!" "You guys are good friends?" I asked. "We are, but we may be even better friends," Wayne said. "Brad and Elvis are good sports." Elvis swam over to us. I reached over and felt him out. He was semi-hard. I brushed my hand against his organ and he moaned. A second later, he was fully erect. Brad joined us, but he didn't need a touch to become erect. He was ready. We played in the water, but then went into the lodge and my bedroom. Apparently, I was the only item on the menu for the night, but after five or ten minutes, Brad and then Elvis became full participants. I am an enthusiastic man and I think my energetic approach to sex rubbed off on the men. I was an inspiration. Elvis told me that I was so into sucking, that he decided to give it a try. In an hour of sexual activity, he went from being a novice sucker to being a master cocksucker. Brad was shyer, but he soon got into it. He seemed to like Wayne's cock a lot. I think that surprised both Wayne and Brad. They all wanted to spend some time in my ass. Technically, it was a gangbang, but my playmates were nice. Elvis had a thick, stubby organ, Brad's cock was long and thin. Wayne was thicker than Brad's and longer than Elvis cock. Elvis was like the little engine that could. He pumped his cock into my ass. Brad used his cock as an anal probe. Apparently, Wayne had told them that it was best if the pulled out when they came close to shooting off, they could cool down and then go in for a second fuck. They rotated for an hour or so. Elvis was the first to climax, but he must have had the shortest recharge time on any man I knew. Wayne was next in line after Elvis popped. He seemed to be more enthusiastic as he used Elvis' man cream as lube. I heard Elvis moaning. I looked over and Brad had slipped into his ass. I later found out Elvis's ass was virgin, but Brad's thin cock slid in easily. Elvis was verbal in his appreciation. Brad began to moan. As he did, Wayne lost it a rear loaded my ass. Brad and Elvis were soon full time employees at the camp. Several weeks later, I was in New York City and I met an aspiring writer, Edmund Mallow. Edward was an earnest small, young man who was writing the great American novel. He seemed quite genuine, but I discovered he hadn't actually written a word. He had it all planned, and in his mind writing it down was merely a formality. I didn't think he was a bull shitter; I had the impression his grip on reality was marginal. We met at a bar and Edmund asked me back to his apartment. I had mentioned I was looking for additional staff for the camp. I said the work was rather boring most of the time, but the site was beautiful. Edmund was into Emerson big time and he seemed to fantasize about his own version of Walden Pond. Edmund was delicate and almost pretty. He looked young. He was so pretty I was surprised when I found out he wasn't effeminate. He also looked like a kid, but he was sexually mature, adventurous and willing. He liked it all, especially if it involved a cock in his ass. As soon as we were naked, Edmund impaled himself on my cock and did a fancy dance. While he wasn't muscular, his sphincter was firm and he seemed to have complete control of his anal and rectal muscles. He used his ass to give my cock a massage. He told me he wasn't actually massaging my cock, he was in fact using my erect organ to massage his prostate. I have an average, but rather thick organ. It was thick in just the right place for his prostate. He told me he didn't like to suck cocks; he liked to milk them. "Precum is the gift of the gods, and a mouthful of man seed is good too," he explained. All of his sexual preferences seemed to be particularly good for his playmates. When I came to know him better, I discovered he was blessed with the sex drive of a bull in heat. He was driven and more than willing. Edmund wasn't a whore or a slut; he was just a man who liked sex. He looked so young I was a surprised he was so open in his sexual interest. He liked sex and he didn't mind admitting it. I knew that he was perfect for Saunders. I didn't know if Edmund had any talent, but he talked a good line and he looked good. That would be more than enough for Saunders. I wasn't sure Edmund would be interested in Saunders. I told him about Saunders and was frank about his weaknesses. Much to my relief, Edmund was interested. He liked play-acting, and he thought an interlude with Saunders would make for a good short story. I told him Saunders was not relationship oriented. Edmund liked that. He didn't want to lead a man into a relationship based on falsity. He liked relationships based on erections and orgasms. That would be fine for Saunders. It was good for me! I told him Saunders would pay well. Edmund said that wasn't necessary. He was after a short story. When I told him Saunders wasn't a likeable man, Edmund said that was good. The next time Saunders visited Camp Chasm Falls, Edmund was playing the role of a waiter and footman. Edmund's career as an aspiring writer, gave him extensive experience waiting tables. Wayne, Brad and Elvis were working in the yard. Saunders always pretended not to notice new staff members. He liked playing the role of an English aristocrat as defined by PBS miniseries. He wasn't a good actor, but he tried. Some men have infatuations, or brief affairs. In some ways, Saunders was like that, but when he looked at Edmund, he looked at him like a cupcake to be devoured, not a lover to be savored. I hoped Edmund was up to the task ahead. Normally, Saunders took is time hooking and reeling in a playmate. Edmund was too much for him to resist. Edmund was a good actor. He wasn't forward, but he had an air of accessibility. Somehow, you guessed he was willing. Saunders was a willful and irritable man. He could be affable and pleasant when he was sexually excited, or he could at least anticipate excitement. While Saunders was insensitive, he could smell sex. He knew it was in the air. It took no one than an hour to set his sights on Edmund. The next day Wayne and his pals took Saunders on a fishing trip. The trip was a success. Wayne and his pals were all men and Saunders like being one of the boys. They liked fishing, beer, farting contests and raunchy jokes. Saunders had an impressive store of off color jokes. He fit in well.