Date: Sat, 20 Jun 2009 03:24:53 -0700 (PDT) From: Bob Archman Subject: Catfish Does Shakespeare 9 Catfish Does Shakespeare 9 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, 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. I thought my foursome was going to be a quiet and restrained event. I soon realized I was in a testosterone storm. Steve, Hank and Dean were conventional men in conventional jobs. They had none of the trappings and baggage the media demands of gay men. When we got together at my apartment all the usual things that restrain their sexual inhibitions were gone. The three men were mutually attracted, but Hank, who was new to the gay scene, really found Steve and Dean attractive. My previous meetings with them had been more out to satisfy their curiosity than their desire to have sex. I had been fucked, but they were too cautious to take the dive with me. This morning they seemed to have made peace with their taste for man sex and were willing to do some experimenting. Steve had bottomed before. but the other men were new to it. Hank was totally new to it, but he liked Steve and was greatly attracted to Dean. For a woman getting fucked is like playing with a loaded gun. She doesn't know when it's going to shoot. Even when she's careful there a chance one of the little pollywog's will find a home. The repercussions for men are much reduced, but the loaded gun aspect remains. Somehow I got the impression Hank would liked to give Dean's prostate a sperm bath, and wouldn't have minded having his prostate get a buff and shine by Dean's knob. It turned out I was right about that. Steve had built up his nerve and had a change of heart. He decided to let me stretch his hole and get deep into his ass. As sometimes happens as you think about my cock you get an itch only it can scratch. If you think you might want to try it, you might as well do it. You don't run into cocks as bug as mine often. Fucking never strikes me as a pretty thing to watch. In general sex is a participatory sport, not a spectator activity. When you watch guys sucking you can see the way a man slicks the knob, and how he takes the cock. Because you need to breathe you get to see a lot of the cock. Fucking is different. Once you're in you're in. the cock works it magic out of view. It's better if the cock is long and you can see the shaft on the out stroke, but it's mostly out of sight. Dean and Hank watched as I screwed Steve. They seemed to find it both educational and exciting. Steve was a good sport and had exhibitionist tenancies. He liked the bottom, but he really liked have two men watching him as I worked my meat into his hole. It took a while and Hark and Dean liked the show. I was at the uppermost range of cocks Steve could take and there were some bumps in the road. It turned into a group fuck. Dean and Hank wanted to see me get deep, so they were part cheerleaders and part coaches. Dean held Steve's legs open while Hank kept the lubricant and the poppers ready. They encouraged Steve and were ready with lubricant to ease my cock into the hole. Our quartet played well together. Dean spurted a few volleys of his seed into the air when I skewered Steve. The other men appreciated that. I was concentrating on Steve, but I noticed Hank was spending more time with his lubricant coated fingers in Stave's ass. He liked it. Hank also caught a whiff of the poppers. That I discovered was the key to his interest in man sex. As I fucked, I knew the juices would be bubbling in the other men's balls. I pulled out a few times and Hank took my place in Steve's ass. I could see Steve's excitement grow as his ass lips welcomed Hank's meat. It was good for both of them. Hank pulled out when he got too close. When I re entered Steve's ass, I sensed he was more relaxed and receptive. I was going to give Dean some quality time in Steve's rectum, but I shot off before I had a chance to trade places with him. Dean was the only one not to have popped. Hank had become a lot more open minded once he got into the swing of things. He got on the bed and hoisted up his legs. He was more than willing for Dean to get his rocks off in his body. I have friends who like to pop virgins, but that's not my thing. Hank had never been fucked and Dean had never fucked a guy before, so they were equally inexperienced. I soon realized natural sexual drive and a few snorts of Jungle Juice were all they needed. When I take poppers my sex drive skyrockets. For some reason I also seem to get an itch deep in my ass that only an oozing cock can scratch. Poppers had exactly the same effect on Hank. He was also a no pain, no gain man. Dean was well hung and it wasn't easy to get in in the first time, but Hank was game. If hot, sweaty sex between middle aged men is your thing, Dean and Hank were as good as it gets. Plain old fashioned lust can do a lot when the problem is a tight ass. We played for about an hour. I wasn't the center of attention. I had been the spark plug and once Dean. Hank and Steve got the hang of it, they went at it like dogs in heat. While the sex was good for me, the investigation didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Dean was checking the people late critic, Milton Hammerly, had talked to in his last days, but that turned out to be a huge job. He had talked with 30 to 40 people on the last day of his life. The critic was a social butterfly and he must have run into a hundred people in his last week of life. A good percentage of these were associated with the theater. Some people think hard work is at the core of detective work, and I agree with that. I have to add that good luck can play a role. There was an anti gay aspect to the case. I have always assumed that being anti-gay and a closet case were synonyms. I was the bait needed to catch a deeply closeted suspect. You can't trick Mother Nature and closet cases can't avoid being attracted to cock. Like most men, gay or straight a big cock has some allure. I'm attractively hung, but that only counts when I'm naked. Dressed I'm a short, ugly hairball. Advertising my cock in public would get me arrested. In my role as the Wall in Midsummer Night's Dream I was extensively photographed. Most of these were publicity shots that got wide distribution. Skyler was a costume designer on the make and he made sure the photos got everywhere. My costume was imaginative and unusual as well as successful. I also had done some poses in the photography studio that turned out well. Henry had taken some candid shots of me getting dressed and undressed. In some of the publicity photos you could tell I was either well hung, or well padded. In the candid photos there was no question. I hadn't known the photos were being taken, so they were truly candid. They weren't sexual other than me being naked. Those nude photos weren't widely distributed, but the were seen by people in the theater and photography community. Liz and Henry were submitting some of them for an award in a photography show so they were on display, but not published in the newspaper. I was leaving the theater after a high school matin?e and Gustav, the former Chairman of the theater department came up to me. "You have made quite a splash in the theater world," he said. I'm teaching at Central High School and I have a hard time making them understand that every role counts, even the minor ones," he said. "Well you can't be much more minor than playing a wall," I said. "You were perfect. Skyler has never be this inventive before," Gustave continued. "The stars were in alignment. Do you have time to have a drink? My apartment is a few blocks away." I said sure. There was no evening performance so I was free. Gustav lived in a renovated loft apartment in what had been a bank. It was nicely furnished in a post divorce style with inexpensive Ikea type furniture and theatrical props. It was nice, but not fancy, Gustav was a drinker of the old style. He had bourbon, Scotch and Gin. He was a martini man; I went for bourbon. He also had cheese and crackers. He wasn't a Velveta or American cheese man. I seem to have been losing my redneck tastes. The cheese was good, but wasn't the usual arty type. I asked him about them. He was from Wisconsin, and these were locally made there in small creameries. As we taked I had several rather stiff drinks ans was getting happy. On the table he had a portfolio of photos. He showed it to me. It was a collection of photographic prints of me getting into the wall costume. These were less arty and more naked than the ones on display. These photos featured my cock much more prominently. I wasn't hard or anything like that, but they were definitely photos of my cock. Some were high focus photos close-ups showing my meat in detail. "I haven't seen these photos before," I said. "The photography class has been holding out on me." "They weren't suitable for the general public," Gustav explained. "I saw them and they gave me a few I I admired. They're fine photos. It's a pity the public isn't more tolerant of male nudity. I had one blown up." He went to his bed room and brought back a poster sized print. It was a detail of my cock. It looked like one of those high resolution photographs of hilly terrain. Iot took a few seconds of looking before you realized what it was. It was of my cock head sheathed in the foreskin. Every nook and cranny was sharp and detailed. At the center was the pucker of skin at the tip covering my cock head. The gap in the pucker looked like the entrance to a cave. "Damn, I've never seen it blown up like that," I said. I couldn't think of anything else to say. "It looks like you could mountain climb on it." "It's a beautiful photograph," Gustav said. "Is it the photograph or the subject matter?" "At first I thought it was the photo," he replied. He looked me in the eye. "I assume you know that's not true. Self delusion is a universal human characteristic. It took some doing to admit to my self I was as turned on as I was. I hope I'm not offending or shocking you." I smiled. "It takes quite a bit to offend or shock me. I've come to the conclusion interest in other guy's cocks is pretty close to be an universal male characteristic. Believe me, you aren't the first." Gustave looked embarrassed. After a pause he asked, "I would love to see it. For real. Would you do that?" "I'm not much of a show and tell guy," I said. Poor Gustave looked disappointed. "I don't mind some playtime. Could you do that?" I think I had more bourbon than I realized. "I'm new at this, but if you don't mind an amateur, I'm willing." "Well let's get naked and go to it," I said. He led me to his bedroom. The bedroom and bath were the only enclosed rooms in the loft apartment. They were more poster sized photos pf my cock there. "You are really into my cock, aren't you?" I asked as I took my shirt off. He nodded. As I dropped my pants, Gustav dropped to his knees. Now, I'm not exactly a virgin and it took me no more than five or ten seconds to know Gustav wasn't as inexperienced as he said he was. When I saw all the photographic blow up I was afraid he might have a problem. As he swallowed my cock I knew there was no problem. He was a lover and a cock sucker. He worshiped my cock. It was more like a sexual-religious experience than basic guy lust. The bigger I got the better Gustav liked it. He began to moan when my precum began to flow. He continued to worship my cock. I asked him if he wanted the thicker stuff. "The cream?" "Do you want it?" "Oh yes!" he said. "Do you want me to tell you when I'm going to shoot, or just let it rip?" "Surprise me!" Gustave cried. A few seconds later he had a mouthful of my Red-Neck High Test. He didn't stop sucking when I stopped shooting. He kept on sucking until I was drained. "Do you like getting fucked by any chance?" I asked. "I do, but I'm not in your league," Gustav said. He looked at me. "Could I suck your cock again?" I smiled. He returned to my crotch. We 69ed. His cock was mostly a big mushroom on a Popsicle stick. His juices were flowing like Niagara falls. If anything he was better the second time. I don't mind being worshiped once and a while even if it is only my cock. I asked if he wanted me to take his load. He told me not to worry; he was hard to get off. After he took my second load, we talked. "Somehow I had the impression you were anti gay?" I asked. "I suspect you've guessed I was one of those who doth protest too much," Gustav said. "I sometime amaze myself at my abilities in self delusion. For fifty-five years I lived in dread someone would discover my dreadful secret. I was terrified and hoped if I was anti gay enough I'd turn straight." "Did it work?" "My wife left me. She said I'd turned mean," Gustav said. "It took me a year or two to realize she was right and to figure out why I had turned nasty. You know about the poison pen letters?" "Yes." "I wasn't directly involved, but in retrospect I was stirring the pot. I think I was playing with fire and didn't know what would happen. I was away for the last two weeks in Chicago judging an awards program. I didn't know of the deaths in Midsummer." "Do you know who was in the pot you were stirring?" "Tony was involved." "He's anti gay?" "I don't think so. Back then, I thought he was my friend and was trying to help me out. He was actually trying to get my job and helping me crash and burn. He should have been a great actor. He can play two roles at the same time time. He's a piece of work," Gustav said. "Was he involved in the letters?" "I have always doubted he would actually do anything himself," he said. "He's too smart for that. He's a very bitter man. His schemes have all come to naught. Some day he might blow up. As far as I can tell, he's not at that point yet." "How about his harem?" "I don't know who's left. Tony tends to wear out friends. They don't last if they're lucky. They find out the truth." He was silent for a few moments. "For your information Tony may be straight, but he fucked me two years ago. It wasn't a good experience. He's hung, not like you, but he's hung." "Poor technique?" "I wasn't a voluntary participant. He's a role player. I was the fag he had to fuck to teach a lesson to. It was the Drill Sergeant and the enlistee type stuff," he explained. "I wasn't playing the same game. If you ever feel the desire to tear a guy a new ass hole, let me recommend Tony. By the way " I had to get home, so I let Gustav suck me off one more time and I left. The next day was the last performance and the house was filled. It was a celebratory evening. Most of the cast and crew went to bar for a party. I went to the party for a while, but was tired and left early. That turned out to be a mistake. What exactly happened I don't know. I woke up a day later in the hospital with John, my contractor friend, and my mother by my side. I had one hell of a headache. I was unconscious with a serious concussion after someone attacked me from the rear. The doctor's told me I was one short step from having a skull fracture. I got out of the hospital two days later, but I was out of commission for two weeks. Dean came by to get my story. I wasn't helpful since I was all victim and saw nothing. He had some interesting information. I wasn't robbed, but there had been an attempted rape. It was attempted only because the rapist had a problem with premature ejaculation. "Did you get a sample?" I asked. "We sure as shit did," Dean replied. We both knew in this post DNA age sperm is the ultimate clue. Dean also had samples from recent rapes and they were undergoing analysis and comparison. Two days later Dean called; he had a match. The man who assaulted me had also assaulted Sue, Henry's wife and the ill fated Ophelia. This was news to me. Apparently the suicide attempt followed a sexual assault. Sue took an over dose and was found unconscious. Dean said she denied knowing any thing about the assault. "Could the assault have occurred after the overdose?" I asked. "Damn, we may have missed something big here,"Dean said. He called the detective in charge, a woman named Rosa Montague. We he was done with the conversation he told me what he had found out. "Rosa's a good woman. The victim in shock and very fragile. She insisted she hadn't tried to kill herself and she hadn't been assaulted. She was very confused and Rosa thought maybe it was a love affair gone bad. The boy friend was there and Rosa figured the girl didn't want him to know. Rosa did get a DNA sample from the boy friend and it definitely wasn't him." "Henry's a good man," I added. "There was one aspect of the assault you might find interesting." Dean paused. "Spill it out,"I said. "I've still got a headache and I don't need suspense." "The victim wasn't penetrated; it was a case of premature ejaculation." "I take it the case is being reopened?" I asked. "Rosa doing a search of all cases that involve premature ejaculation as we speak,"Dean added. "We've been investigating the wrong fucking case. I had it pegged as an artsy-fartsy case of professional jealousy. It's sex crime, a pervert getting his rocks off." "Shakespeare would never let that happen. Sex, power and money are the key for him," I said. "Where did Tony work before he came here? I might check and see if there are similar cases there." Dean left like a blood hound that suddenly discovered the scent of his prey.