Date: Fri, 7 Nov 2014 20:48:05 -0500
From: bldhrymn@aol.com
Subject: Catfish and the Debutant 3

Catfish and the Debutant 3
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!

Dixon was fun. He told me that Mason was all top and he was 90% top. He
also let me know that I could be in the remaining 10% if I wanted to fuck
him.

"The men told me you take your time and work it in slow.  I don't take it
in the ass often, so I may be tight," he explained.

"Do you play with the men often?" I asked.

"I'm quite a bit more open about sex than Mason.  Sometimes a big black
dong really hits the spot in a Southern Gentleman," Dixon said.  "I don't
mind helping out. I never play with anyone in my shop.  That causes big
problems. That is not a problem here."

We went to my bedroom. When he told me if there was one part of me he
liked, it was my cock, I was not surprised.  He was a lover and he took his
time. He had special skills and his lips, mouth, tongue and throat were a
sexual Disneyland for my cock. It was wonderful.

I asked him if he liked redneck sperm. He told me he didn't like the taste
much, but it was a great anal lubricant. I told him I ooze a lot and shoot
big loads.  He smiled.

I fucked him doggy style and I took my time as he had asked. We talked as I
massaged his hole. I fingered it and then used my cock head to stretch it
wider. He liked that. He was tight, so I gave him some time off.  We
switched places and I took his dong. He was careful and took his time
filling my ass. Dixon was big, but not huge.

We traded places again and his visit to my hole must have relaxed him.
Dixon opened wider and I went deep. I didn't pound him; I just twitched and
jiggled a little.  That seemed to do the trick for him. He began to shoot
and his contracting ass pulled my trigger.  He must have been able to feel
my ejaculations. He moaned with each shot.

"Damn, I've never had white cream so deep!" he exclaimed. He
chuckled. "Actually, I'm not sure I've ever had black seed that deep
either."

"Do you want me to pull out or stay in?" I asked.

"It still feels good," Dixon said. He squeezed his sphincter and I had a
late ejaculation. "I usually fuck white guys. My big black cock in the ass
turns them on. It's that Mandingo thing.  You're a good top. Usually it's
not that enjoyable for me to bottom."

"I like repeat customers," I said. "You didn't mind having a redneck drain
his balls in your ass?"

Dixon laughed. "I couldn't tell you were shooting redneck sperm! Some of my
white pals love eating my black cream. It excites them, even though it
looks exactly the same as white spunk." He was squeezing his ass and
rotating his hips. This was enough to keep me hard.

"Do you ever get tempted by staff members?" I asked.

"I am always tempted, but I do have will power. For some seducing the boss
is normal operating procedure," Dixon explained. "It's easier to lie on
your back and be fucked than to serv the customers well. It's a game for
some of them. You can't run a restaurant that way. Most of that type don't
last long."

"Where do they go?"

"For women there are places like Hooters who encourage that sort of thing,"
he replied. "I was surprised when I found several rejects working for one
of Mason's competitors."

"Would that be Belle-Beauregard?"  I asked.

"You seemed to have figured out the lay of the land here quickly," he
replied. "That's not general knowledge."

"Most people think gardeners are part of the landscape. I heard some
things," I said.

We broke apart. Dixon asked me not to mention I was there.  He did not want
Mason to know. That was fine with me. I had a chance to call my
office. Tony the night person was there. It had been hard to get
information on Belle-Beauregard. Everyone was closed-mouthed about it. That
was to be expected if blackmail were involved. Tony told me several waiters
and waitresses had been murdered or disappeared under suspicious
circumstances over the last four years.

One had worked for Belle-Beauregard. My office had checked the obituaries
of the others. There was another one of the firm's waiters who had been
killed, and a there was a third disappearance. Statistically, that was odd.

I was back at Sally's the next day, finishing the landscaping. She had a
lunch the day before and her improved garden was a big hit with her
friends. A ladies' lunch is a good source of information and Sally had all
the news.  There had been three or four poison pen letters, some graffiti
on garages and a shed had burned down. Only the fire had been reported to
the police.

Sally said the letters were sent by the same person with the odd approach
to obscenity. The graffiti was similar. I asked if the houses were
close. She said no. Two were in the same neighborhood, but the others were
on the other side of the city. Graffiti tends to localized in a single
neighborhood. Most graffiti artists do not follow the social register
either.

While we were talking, a huge man walked over to us. The man must have been
six-five and well over 300 pounds. He was coming from the back of the
garden.  I realized he must have been Fred's father, the football
player. He went to Sally; I returned to the garden.

"Harry, how are you?  It was nice to see Maria yesterday," Sally said.

"We had a good visit home," he said. "Maria said your garden looked
great. She told me I had to get your man to look at our place."

"Well, he isn't my man, he's over in the garden," Sally said. "As long as
he has finished his work here, you can make any deal you wish." They talked
for a while and then he came over to me. I was stashing things in the back
corner of the property behind thick bushes.

"I understand you work for the party guys," he said. "Do you do any
free-lance work? I'm Fred's father, Robby. He said you met."

"Your son looks like you. You are the football player?"

"That's me. Technically, I'm a real estate developer now, but actually, I
just add my name to a development team for promotional purposes," he
explained. "Fred said you were an odd-looking guy, but memorable. He didn't
mention what was memorable." Robby was looking at my crotch. I was sweat
soaked, but I had a feeling that did not bother him at all.

"Would you take a look at my garden?  My wife saw what you did here.  Maria
is not a gardener, but she loved what you did. She is a great cook, but has
no gardening skills," he explained. I said I would come over after I was
finished. By four, I was finished.  The decorating crew was coming the next
day to set the lights and props needed to achieve Pinkney's decorative
scheme. Mason told me Pinkney was clever and imaginative, but I had no idea
what he planned.

I walked to Robby's house. He and his wife were on the terrace. Maria was a
middle aged, attractive and slightly plump woman. The place had been done
by a good landscaper.  The plants and trees were all good, if over
grown. They suffered from the lawn service that maintained their yard.
Maintaining was mowing the lawn and clipping the hedges. Everything else
was untouched.

Maria took one look at me and decided I needed to be fed. I tend to be
scrawny, and she went to the house to fetch pastries. I told Robby that I
would like to help but I had lots of work to do with Pinkney.

"I can work that out with Pinkney," he said. His wife returned with
pastries and a fruit-and-wine drink that was refreshing. I mentioned that
it was a debutant season and the parties were coming fast and furious.

"We have only boys," Maria said. "I feel sorry for the girls. Maybe it's
exciting for some, but it seems to more of an ordeal than a pleasure. Sally
has been working on the thing for a year. She is organized and in
control. Half of the other mothers are going crazy."

"I think Pinkney is going crazy for the other half," I said.

"I never though much of Pinkney until I met his competitors," Maria
said. "He seemed flighty and affected. I met one of his competitors and
discovered he was down to earth for a party planner."

"I am new here," I said. "Who is the competition?"

"I go to many events. There are some old-line firms that do cakes, ham
biscuits and lots of gin.  There are some barbeque, oysters and beer
people.  Beyond that, it's Pinkney."

"You forgot to mention Belle Beauregard, Maria," Robby said.

"I forgot to mention them on purpose. Oh dear, you are out of food!" she
said when she noticed the pastries were gone. She went to the house to
replenish the plate.

"We had a strange encounter with Belle-Beauregard. Their representative was
feeling me up under the table. It wasn't just a hand on the knee, she was
checking out the family jewels," Robby said. "That has happened to me once
or twice before, and the girls turned out to be hookers.  That was in
Europe, not here," Robby said.

"Is that their standard operating procedure?" I asked.

Robby leaned close to me. "I think it is. I have some pals who hade the
same thing happen to them. I had to lend a guy some cash to pay off the
girl."

"Was that for sex or was it hush money?" I asked.

"It was $5,000.00. That's one hell of a lot of sex," Robby said. "I have my
doubts about the entire Belle-Beauregard operation." We talked a little
longer and he said he would check with Pinkney to see if I would be
available to work on their garden.

I returned to the dorm to shower and get ready for my first bartending gig.
I was to staff the keg at a Caribbean-style beach party. There were two
guys showering at the same time, Roscoe and a man I had only seen once,
named Kevin. He lived on the top floor.

Roscoe was hard.  That seemed to happen whenever I was near.  Kevin was
straight, but easily inspired. Erections tend to be infectious and soon we
were all in the mood. Mason was already at the venue, so Roscoe was more
overt in his interests that usual. Since his mouth was at cock level, he
sampled Kevin's meat.

Kevin did not push him off or back away. "I'm straight," he said in what
was almost a whisper.

"Are you willing to pretend you are gay for a little while?" I asked.

Kevin looked at me and then burst into laughter. "I love to fuck," he said.

Roscoe looked up from his sucking duties and said, "This is your lucky
day."  He bent over and Kevin slipped his spit-lubricated cock into
Roscoe's ass. Kevin moaned as it went deep. I think Kevin thought he would
just get his rocks off, but sex is a strange thing.  He made love to Roscoe
for ten minutes or so. He shot off and Roscoe went to his room to dress.

"That was a lot more than I thought it would be," Kevin said. "You won't
tell anyone about it, will you?"

"Don't worry, I'm not a gossip," I said. "Roscoe is a nice guy."  We left
to shower and get ready for the party.  The uniform was Hawaiian style
shirts and Bermuda shorts. The shirts were unbuttoned to the navel. My pelt
was on display.

The party was at a big house on Folly Beach. The beer area was on the
ground level and most of the party was on the upper levels of the
house. The real food and bars were above; the beer area was too messy.  It
turned out to be a place for men to congregate and talk. The party was in
honor of one of the debs, Alice Berg, but it was family and friends, so the
ages were mixed, and some of the friends and relatives were regular folks,
not socialites.

Since the house was on a comparatively small ocean-front lot, there was not
much room for decoration.  Pinkney focused on the food. They rolled out
some food that could have been a float in the Rose Bowl Parade. They were
spectacular.

It was a nice party, festive, cheerful and elegant. Being consistently
polite was a problem for some of the men.  They would have been happier at
a drunken beer blast. I provided the casual corner. They could relax and be
themselves before they returned to the party upstairs.

I am a good listener. I talked some, but I listened more. Most of them were
relieved that this wasn't tuxedoes or fancy dress. The banker and lawyer
types had bought colorful shirts for the occasion. I guessed several were
unhappy that Hawaiian shirts didn't use pinstriped fabric. There were no
wing-tipped sandals either.

One man was unhappy because the servers would not let you get "friendly."
His companion looked like a well-dressed, dirty, old man. He said that was
fine with him.

"I was at a party where the girls were nice and friendly," he said. "It
turned out that there was a photographer, taking pictures. I had made it to
third base with her skirt up and I was fingering her cunt. She was called
away. A week later, I received a photograph in the mail. My wife, Shannon,
is not too open-minded about that sort of thing.  She is my third and she
knows I have a wandering eye."

"How much did it cost you?"

"Six thousand," the other man said.  "A year later I found Shannon in bed
with a waiter from the party."

"You're still married, aren't you?"

"We have an arrangement. As long as I pull out before I pop, I'm okay; the
same goes for her," the reprobate said. "I eat her out regularly to make
sure there is no taste of sperm. She likes that."

"No sperm?"

"Only a few times. I pretended not to nootice She gets all hot and bothered
and then she really puts out for me. I don't get that hard anymore, so I
figure someone might as well use her.  It's a win-win situation!" he
concluded. "We still use the Beauregard people for parties."

There was a man standing near them who turned white when the men discussed
the interlude. He was actually shaking a little. I had a feeling he had
shared the same experience. His name was George and his daughter was a
debutant too. I did not know his last name so I did not know if he was
having a party or if he was being blackmailed too.  It was a nice party and
no one got smashed, but several were in no shape to drive.

Pinkney asked me to drive two of the Berg cousins home. They were in a
hotel in town. I could take them there and walk back to the dorm. I tend to
be neat and final cleanup of the beer area took only ten minutes. At first,
I thought Calhoun and Jeb were doing an imitation of South Carolina
rednecks, but it was real. Jeb was a car salesman. Calhoun was an auto
mechanic. While they didn't fit in with the group at the party, Jeb could
give you a real good price on a car and Calhoun was a good mechanic. Those
skills cross class boundaries.

I had chatted with them when they came for beer. When Calhoun came back the
last time, I told him that it would be his last. He looked concerned.

"Have I done anything bad yet?" he asked.

"Not yet, you are doing fine," I said. "I think we had better be safe than
sorry." He nodded.

"Alice is my favorite cousin. I don't want to make a fool of myself," he
said.

I took them to the motel. It was one of those old 1960 types with open
balconies and stairs. The two men weren't too steady so I took them to
their room.  They asked me in for a drink.

Jeb sat on the bed and fell asleep. Calhoun had a cooler of beer and
offered me one. He turned on the air conditioner and then stripped off his
shirt and pants.  He was wearing boxers. He had been wearing what looked
like a new shirt, shorts and sandals.  The boxers were not new. His cock
was hanging out. He looked down and noticed.

"Does my cock bother you?" he asked.

"Cocks never bother me," I said. He looked at me eye to eye.

"They don't bother me either. They don't bother me one bit," he said and
then paused briefly. "I've wondered if your spunk tastes like beer after a
long night of drinking."

"I kind of doubt it," I said. "Most drunks can't get it up not to mention
shoot so it would be hard to sample."

Calhoun stroked his cock. "You're overdressed," he said. He continued to
stroke his cock and it responded. I was only wearing the shirt and shorts
so I stripped. A few seconds later, he was on his knees sucking my
meat. This was not his first time.

"Will Jeb wake up?" I asked.

"I doubt it, but he'll join in if he does," Calhoun said. "He's a good
family man, but he doesn't mind some fun on the side.  We've been playing
around since we were teenagers, mostly with cousins and an uncle or two."

"Does he mind doing it with an outsider?" I asked.

"Shit no, he thinks of it as gourmet food!" Calhoun replied. Calhoun was
not shy and he was accommodating. He wanted my cock up his ass as soon as
he discovered its full size. He told me I was the biggest white guy he had
ever taken. He told me he had a black fuck buddy who had trained him
well. He loved it. He had a tight sphincter and a warm and juicy hole. He
told me Jeb had made a deposit in him before the party. That turned me on,
much to my surprise. I worked him for fifteen minutes and then unloaded.

He could feel me squirting and he clamped his sphincter tight to keep me in
him. That was good, but somehow I knew that every squirt was welcome. He
wanted it and I gave it to him. It was late by then and I went home. By
that time, Calhoun was sleeping. I had a call from him the next morning. He
had some family things to do during the day, but he was free that night
after 8:00.  I had the day off so it was fine if he wanted to call me.

Pinkney came by and asked if I could do some work at Robby's house.  "I
know it's your day off, but he's a good man and a good client. I said I
would work a few hours there.

I arrived at 9:00. Robby was there, but Fred and his wife were off in
Atlanta. I worked on one of the shrubs and turned it into a tree. Robby
liked it. I worked on a second tree just to keep things symmetrical. Robby
went in the house. He told me a friend was dropping by.  Eventually I did
four trees. This opened up the view across the yard.  It was a big lot and
this made it look much more expansive.

Robby came out with a cold drink. It was like a steam bath outside. His
friend was George, the man I noticed at the party the night before. I was
looking like shit, sweat-drenched shit. I had taken my shirt off. The
combination of sweat and dirt had matted my body hair to my skin. My shorts
were soaked and clinging to my body.

I don't think George recognized me. He wasn't looking at my face. I
smiled. Robby was looking at me too.  He smiled and winked. I saw someone
coming from the house.

"Hey Dad, I'm home," Fred said as he walked across the lawn. "Mom is
staying overnight with the Bullocks. They are going to a play tonight."

"It looks like we are going to be bachelors for a night," Robby said.
"Noland, you look a bit hot and uncomfortable, come in the house and I will
show you my exercise room. It has a shower, Jacuzzi and a steam room." Fred
exchanged some glances with his father and George.  I had a feeling we were
all in the same fraternity.

We went into what I thought was a garage. It was a luxurious gym. "Maria
picked all the finishes here, so we have to shower before using the room,"
Robby said. "Is any one shy?"

"Not anymore," George said. It was a four-man shower made of what I think
was onyx.

I was the first in with Fred. "Are you and Fred okay with this?" I asked
him in a whisper.

He nodded. "We don't play with each other; we share playmates sometimes,"
he said. "George has never been with us together; he's new." I had been
under the impression Fred was more virginal than was the case.

I had the water going and needed the shower badly. Robby was next to
me. Fred and George were on the other side. Robby volunteered to wash my
back.  "Are you the shy type?" he asked.

"Not at all," I replied. "What is off limits?"

"Nothing is off limits here. Once you are outside the gym, you have just
had a good workout," Robby said as he stroked my cock. "George loves it in
the ass," he added in a whisper. He went over to George and Fred came over
to me.  I think Robby was assuring George that I was with the program. By
now, we were all over half-staff.