Date: Sat, 31 Oct 2015 22:17:18 -0400
From: bldhrymn@aol.com
Subject: Catfish Goes to Tinseltown

Catfish Goes to Tinseltown
By Bald Hairy Man

This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you do not like that, DO NOT
read it! You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, and is
not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual.  I have made no effort
to portray safe sex practices. If you have any comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com

Several months after I left Florida, Hector called me. I had been in a low
budget porn video produced and directed by Hector. Truthfully speaking, my
cock was the star.  Hector said a producer from Hollywood, Maury Greenburg,
was interested in me.

Maury was doing a movie set in Depression Era Appalachia.  Even naked he
could tell I had a solid grip on red neck characteristics. The Hollywood
types tended to do it Beverly Hillbilly's style. He liked my accent and
thought it sounded "authentic." How he could tell from lines like, "Hold
still while I fuck you good," I don't know.

Hector told him I was not an actor or a model. I was an undercover
detective. After a few jokes about being naked and undercover, the producer
said he had a problem. He had a prankster or perhaps saboteur in his
company.  Hector said he had given Maury my name and number and he might
call.

Ten minutes later Maury called. Maury thought I was playing the role of a
Southern Redneck. I thought he was playing the role a hyperactive Jewish
movie producer. I told him I couldn't act. He said he wanted my voice.  If
I would come to Hollywood and talk with his voice coach for a week, he
would pay me $10,000.00.  That sounded good to me.

"Hector told me that you have a saboteur," I said.

"I have something," he replied. "It could be a mean spirited practical
joker, but the pranks are getting borderline dangerous. The creep doing
them mostly directs them against the newer people in my company.  They have
spooked some of the girls."

"Do you think it's a pervert disguising his actions as a joke?"  I asked.

Maury was silent for a while. "You know, I hadn't thought of that," he
said. "I rarely stop long enough to think about that sort of thing. That
could be what is happening."

"I got my start going after muggers and purse snatchers," I said. "I'm a
small guy and I hate men who prey on people they think are easy targets."

"I saw the video. Part of you isn't small," he said. "Was that guy really
begging you to get in deeper?"

I laughed. "No one could act worth a damn. All the dialog was from the
heart," I said.

Five days later, I was getting off a plane at LAX. Maury had sent Edith
Minor, a dialog coach, to meet me and take me to my hotel. We talked as a
drove to Hollywood.

After a few minutes, she said, "I thought Maury was crazy bringing you
in. Damn it, he was right.  You have just the right accent," she said.

"I thought I was losing it," I said. "Some friends say it has mellowed."

She laughed. "Take my word for it; it is memorable. He said you are a
detective too?"

"Yep. I am a good undercover type guy. I have the gift of being
forgettable," I said. "What are these pranks like?"

"Most are little nasty notes left on a desk. Someone fiddled with my desk
chair and it collapsed," she said. "Things break and fall over. The coffee
machine shorted out and gave a copywriter a nasty shock before it caught on
fire."

"Were you hurt when the chair broke?"

"Nope, but the cleaning lady was hurt. She was going to call home and sat
in my chair. She was badly bruised," Edith explained.

"Is it an inside job?"

"That would be my guess," she replied.

"Any demands being made?"

"There are some nasty notes, but no demands to my knowledge," she said,
adding, "Maury may be getting some, but he plays his cards close to his
chest. He also does not always read his mail.  There may be something in
the mail he hasn't seen or noticed. Maury is driven and has all the grace
of an out-of-control bulldozer.  That is not a good way to make friends.
By the way, he wants to meet you at dinner tonight.  He will send a car to
pick you up at 7:00.

She dropped me off at a 1960's type motel.  It had been souped-up and was a
popular and retro place. It was near the studio, so it was convenient. I
checked in and the man at the desk checked me out. I was definitely not his
type.

It was three in the afternoon. The motel had a pool and I went for a
swim. The pool manager checked me out too. One part of me was his type. He
introduce himself as Manny, and he was a muscleman. He told me he was an
actor waiting for a break. Something about him gave me the impression it
might be a long wait.

I told him I had just flown in from the East Coast and was going to meet
with Maury Greenburg later. He was impressed.

"If you need to relax, I give great massages," he said. He was looking at
my crotch so I knew what he wanted.  I told him I might take him up on that
later.

At 7:00. Edith appeared and took me to Maury's house. The modern and
extravagant house was in the hills overlooking the city. Floor to ceiling
windows opened onto a terrace and a spectacular view. It sure didn't shout
out the hills of Virginia. Edith told me it was an informal event, but I
saw the tee shirt Maury was wearing must have cost a few hundred
dollars. My Polo shirt cost fifteen, but it was at an end of the season
half-price sale.

He was with Rocky Masters, a star who specialized in Hillbilly car movies,
Johnny Wells, an up and coming teen heartthrob and Phil George.  Phil had
been a heartthrob thirty years earlier. He was now bearded, a bit heavy and
played character roles. The screenwriter, Jason Holliday and an accountant
named Saul completed the group.

Five minutes later Brenda Beaumont arrived. She was a rising star and was
really pretty. She wasn't wearing much makeup and I realized she was more
than pretty. I looked out of place, but after a few minutes, all was
well. I have deep voice and a South-West Virginia accent. It is a Southern
accent but not the rustic, hayseed type accent you hear in hell-raising,
redneck movies.

I could slip into a trailer trash accent, but Mom and my relatives were
solid middle class, hardworking people. The movie, "High Water," was about
a family surviving the depression. It was set in a mill town, dominated by
one mill and built below a weak dam. It was to combine themes of personal
heroism and corporate greed.  Most of the actors were trying to break out
of their stereotypical characters and move up the status ladder.

"Our problem is that the thing is turning into "The Beverly Hillbillies
Save a Village," Jason explained. "The plot is fine and dramatic enough,
but the ambiance is wrong."

"I don't know if mill towns had an ambiance," I said. "Maybe they have a
mood or an atmosphere, but ambiance suggests white wine."

Jason laughed. "I kind of think no one drank white wine for another forty
years in that sort of town. I would guess it was beer and bourbon," Phil
said. "I would assume there was some homemade brew."

"My Dad drank beer and brought out Bourbon for guests. That would be for
his uncles and maybe a neighbor if it was a special occasion," I said. "Mom
was a nurse so they both worked long hours. There wasn't much time left for
serious drinking.  My uncles and aunts tended to be frugal. Drinking cost
money so it wasn't regular."

We talked quite a bit about small town life. Most of them were product of
suburbia. Rocky and

Phil were good mimics. They began to pick up on my accent and
mannerisms. Edith was a human tape recorder; she caught every intonation of
my speech patterns.

Edith had a call and had to go home. Phil said he would take me to my
motel. I did find out more about the prankster. Maury's understanding of
the situation was limited. He was excitable and it was easier for the staff
to keep quiet about the pranks than tell him about them. I had the feeling
that the pranks were getting out of hand.

Phil and Saul took me back to the motel. Saul was a quiet man who sat in
the background and I had barely talked with him.

"Saul is the man who discovered you," Phil said. "He saw you in that video
and he liked what he heard."

I laughed. "No one had ever mentioned the sound track before," I said.

"When I saw the video, I didn't notice that either," Phil said. "For a
small guy who is hairy like a chimp, one part of you is memorable.  I hope
I don't offend."

I laughed again. "I am pretty realistic about my charms. I don't get
offended. Are you a size queen?"

"I'm the size queen," Saul responded. "I had never seen one as big as
yours."

"Saul likes things kosher. He wants to see it, but he's a bit shocked that
your uncut cock turns him on so much," Phil said. "I'm his wing man."

"You want some show and tell?"

"That want Saul wants. I think he would like more, but the kosher thing
might get in the way," Phil explained. "He wants me to be with him in case
he needs some help. I told him shit no; he can suck his own cocks. Saul is
gay as a goose; I dabble in man sex once and a while. When I met you, I
sort of reconsidered that. You aren't my type, but you are an interesting
guy."

By then, we were at my motel.  I asked them in for a beer. I didn't expect
that. It just came out of my mouth. Both men were game. I picked up a
six-pack at a convenience store next door and we went to my room. The men
were nervous.

"If you saw the video, you know I'm not the shy type. I don't mind a little
show and tell, but everyone needs to show," I said. "Is that a problem?"

"Shit no!" Phil replied as he stripped off his shirt and dropped his
pants. He went commando. I followed suit; Saul brought up the rear. In his
younger years, Phil was often cast as a shirtless surfer, beach bum, or
gladiator. He was much thicker now and had a gut, but his fur had thickened
too. He had wavy, dirty blond hair.

Saul was muscular and toned, but curly black hair covered him from below
his collar to his toes. He was a gorilla. Phil sported a cut beer can with
a big mushroom; Saul had a cut, teaspoon type cock with an almond shaped
knob. We all liked the scenery.

When Phil saw my cock, he dropped to his knees and he was not shy and knew
what to do next. Phil had told me that he dabbled in man sex once and a
while. His dabbling apparently was successful. He was an enthusiastic and
skilled cocksucker. Saul had been uneasy, but when Phil stepped up to the
plate, he relaxed. He could watch and enjoy.

If you are a size queen, my cock has an allure. That allure does not
diminish when it gets hard. I have a lot of foreskin, but it pulls back
when I am fully erect. I tend to be an equal opportunity sucker. When a man
sucks me, I return the favor and take care of his needy organ. I don't
think of myself as a great cocksucker, but no one has ever complained.
Once a man is excited, I have no problem pulling his trigger and taking his
personal cream.

When Phil needed a breather, I took care of his cock. I like doing that
anyway, but I like to show my playmate I am a good sport. Phil was oozing
already. I sucked him and milked his sweet and creamy precum from his
balls. I also played with his balls and my finger strayed toward his
asshole. He did not seem to mind that at all. I suspected that his ass had
participated in his dabbling.

As I pondered Phil's sexual potential, I neglected Saul, who was
watching. He was uneasy about my uncircumcised cock. When I am fully erect,
the foreskin peels back and stretches thin. He saw my erect cock as I
sucked Phil. You could not tell I was uncircumcised.

I have a warm spot for size queens for obvious reasons. They have an urge,
or perhaps a fetish about large cocks. It not logical or rational. It is a
compulsion. I would guess that my cock both attracted and repelled Saul.
Sex being what it is, while he may have been repelled, he was also looking
for a way to overcome that repulsion. As is the case with most sex, he
wanted to get closer and experience it directly. Maybe he pretended he
wanted to just look at it closely, or touch it. I knew that eventually he
would desire a more intimate connection. Now that I was fully erect, he
could pretend I was cut. That was the excuse he needed.

I had a feeling Phil's dabbling with man sex included Saul. They were close
enough for Saul to show Phil the porn video. I knew the video was not for
the dabbler in man sex. It was heavy-duty man sex with no holes
bared. There were a lot of close-ups of cocks ramming tight holes.

Phil and I broke apart and Saul dropped to his knees. He opened his mouth.

"I ooze a lot," I said. "Is that a problem?" Saul did not say anything but
his cock twitched. He wrapped his lips around my exposed knob. I could
sense his tenseness, but after thirty seconds or so, he relaxed. This had
happened before when some Baptist boys sucked me for the first time.  They
could relax once they realized they were not going to be struck by
lightning sent from on high.

Saul's tongue caressed my knob. A little later it found my cum slit and he
tasted my man ooze. He shivered and twitched again. I have a nice wide slit
and he soon was trying to intercept the ooze.  I like it fresh too and I
understood what he wanted.

"Saul was turned on and scared by you," Phil said. "He's a New Yorker and
he doesn't have much experience with hillbillies."

"I'm not a hillbilly!" I protested.

Phil laughed. "You are compared to the guys in the lower East Side," Phil
replied. "Saul and I are pals with benefits. Sex is purely recreational for
us. We have watched our share of porn, but your fuck video was the first
time I have seen Saul get really turned on. His ass is virgin."

"Is your ass virgin?"  I asked. Saul was a good sucker I was getting
excited.

"I guess you could say I'm a semi-virgin," he replied. "I've never been
fucked sober."

I laughed. "I know some guys like that. Most of them got drunk regularly
and usually with the same guys. I assume Saul is one of your tops?"

"How did you know?" Phil asked. "I usually take a cock in the ass to be
polite. With Saul, it is different. That is embarrassing."

"I realized a long time ago that I'm not in control of my genitals," I
said. "My cock and ass seem to have their own needs and desires. I am
basically a top, but I've had some really good times doing a fancy dance on
another guy's fuck tool. I can tell you from my own experience that you can
have a much better time if you forget to be embarrassed and go with the
flow. If you are a mostly straight man in bed with a gay guy, it's best of
you let yourself be gay for an hour or until whenever you shoot off. Trying
to be macho when you are sucking a load from a pal's cock is a turn off."

"Is the same thing true when a pal is in your ass?" Phil asked.

"Maybe it's doubly true in that case," I said.

"Do you want to fuck Saul or me?" Phil asked.

"I'm usually ready to fuck anyone who is willing," I said. "I never shove
it where it's not welcome. I like it when my playmate invites me into his
body." As I talked, Saul hit stride and I unloaded my balls into his
mouth. I felt him tense up at the first spurt, but by my third ejaculation,
he had relaxed. I assumed he had missed a second bolt of lightning.

It was getting late. Phil and Saul left.  Phil said a car would pick me up
at 8:00. I was tired and fell asleep. Saul picked me up the next morning in
his BMW.

He was worried.  Eventually I discovered that Saul was always worried. "You
won't tell anyone what I did last night, will you?" he asked.

"I don't kiss and tell, not to mention ejaculate and blab about it," I
said.

"Phil is my only playmate here. He won't tell either," Saul said. "No one
knows he does that sort of stuff either."  I told him not to worry, but I
didn't mind a little fun once and a while. I liked sharing recreational
interludes with other men. I did not tell him that I was surprised that he
and Phil were worried about that in wild and crazy Hollywood.

At the studio, I went to meet the screenwriter, Jason, and looked over the
script. Edith joined us. I got rid of the "hee-haw," the "see-ment pond"
and the "gul-darn-it" references. Jason was a smart man, but his links to
Appalachia were minimal. His idea of rural was the California wine
country. He did not understand the difference between a schoolteacher's
accent and a working man's twang. There was also a difference between nice
folks and trailer trash.

I wasn't sure he knew the difference between poorly educated people and
ignorant jerks. I also explained that while a man might use fuck as a verb,
noun, adverb and conjunction when talking to a buddy, it would be different
if a schoolteacher was present. Jason was a fast learner, and he understood
what I was telling him.

Several actors dropped in as we talked about the script. Brian Turner was
an older man who would be playing the local factory owner. He understood
what I was saying.  He assumed he would have one manner with his men and
another with his family.

We were chatting when a fire alarm went off. People just stood around for a
few seconds and then I said, "It's time to get out." I opened the door to
the corridor and I smelled smoke and the acrid smell I associate with an
electrical fire. We went by some offices where employees were still
working.

I had been a cop and I used my, "obey me or face the consequences," voice
to get them moving. That helped, but Maury appeared and ordered people to
get out. His message was, "Keep calm and get the fuck out."

The staff was accustomed to obeying him and they left.  The building was
sprinkled, but the sprinklers didn't seem to be working. The emergency
lights were not functioning either. By now, smoke was billowing along the
ceiling of the corridor. Just after we got out, there was an explosion
inside the building. By then, there were maybe a hundred people in the
street.  Fire Engines appeared and cooler heads forced everyone away from
the building so they could make room for the firefighters.

A second explosion blew part of the roof away and flames shot high into the
sky. Debris fell on us. Most was paper and building insulation, but there
were some larger pieces. I had a strong feeling the fire was
suspicious. The building had modern fire protection and they were not
working.

The fire department was efficient and well organized. The hole on the roof
was a godsend. They were able to use it to get directly to the fire. Maury
was getting his people to make sure that everyone was out of the
building. The receptionist who checked in everyone had that information on
a laptop. She was an old-fashioned, battle-ax type who insisted that
everyone check in or out with her. She was the sort of woman you obeyed.
That solved many problems. She also had all the home and cell numbers of
the employees on the same laptop. Two people were missing, a janitor and a
PR person.

The Firefighters found the PR man at his desk, dead. He apparently had a
heart attack. Later that day, they found a body, burned beyond
recognition. I told Maury that I thought there was something wrong with the
fire. Someone had turned off the valves that fed the sprinkler system and
disabled parts of the alarm and emergency light system. I told my
suspicions to the Fire Marshal.  He was unimpressed.

Jason came up to me and asked me to come to his apartment and we could work
on the script there. "Maury's not the kind of man who would let a fire
disrupt a schedule," he explained. I went with him and his assistant, a
young man named Travis.

Jason lived fifteen minutes away in an older Spanish style house enveloped
in semi-tropical greenery. Travis had his laptop. His job had been to keep
a record of our meeting and all the changes in the script.

It was a hot day and we all smelled of soot and smoke. Jason suggested we
take a dip in his pool. Thick vegetation screened the pool. Jason and
Travis stripped and jumped in. Apparently, skinny-dipping wasn't a problem.

It turned out that they had seen my video and wanted to check out the
merchandise. Jason was slim and shaved smooth. Travis was pretty boy, but
he was also an otter. He had a closely cropped beard.  He had
well-manicured chest hair and a treasure trail to his bush. Neither man had
a tan line.

"Travis liked your video allot," Jason said. "He has a taste for bad boys."

"Do you share that taste?" I asked.

"Not at all," Jason replied. "When I saw you yesterday, I was shocked.  Of
course, I recognized you from the video; you are hard to forget.  I have no
idea how he found you."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not a bad boy," I said. "I'm just an
ugly man with a donkey dong."

"I thought you were one of those oddly sexy repulsive men. You seem to have
a double dose of manly characteristics all wrapped up in an unappealing
package," Travis said. "Now that I have met you, you aren't repulsive at
all; ugly, but not repulsive."

"My charitable friends said that I have non-standard attractiveness," I
said. "In the back of my mind, I suspect my cock is the focus of my
attraction." Travis came over to me and began to suck my cock.

"Jason, how close are you two?" I asked. "I would hate to be a home
wrecker."

"We don't play solo on the side, but threesomes are fine," Jason
said. "Travis's bad boy interest can get him into trouble. If I am there, I
can keep him out of trouble.  I am a bottom, but sometimes Travis likes the
wild side. It's a different sort of release."

"Given my druthers, I am a top, and sex with me is all sweaty and
sticky. Somehow I get the impression that you like sex neat and tidy," I
said. "I have no problems with group play, but the sex can get
intense. Some guys get uneasy when their partner is squirming on my cock
and squirting his man seed all over the room."

"Maybe I could be in the middle?" Travis volunteered. Jason looked shocked,
but his relaxed cock turned hard.

Travis was a born sexual athlete, and had been a gymnast. He was limber,
flexible and eager. Those qualities applied to his ass. It was a tight fit,
but he was receptive and open. Jason seemed to regard his lover with
amazement as my cock vanished into the tight hole.

Travis was impressively erect when he eased his cock into Jason's
behind. Once he was in deep and they were comfortable, I reentered
Travis. It was a perfect fit for the three of us. When I shot off, I felt
as if my cock was filling Travis's ass and then he filled Jason's needy
hole. It was a total success.

Travis fell asleep. I looked at Jason. "If you are in the mood, could I
shove Travis's cum deeper into to you?" I suggested.

"You are awfully big," he whispered. That is not a no.

"Sperm is a great lubricant," I said. Jason rolled over and spread his
legs. He was tight, but once my knob caresses his prostate, he opened
wide. It was a pleasant afternoon.

The next morning the Fire Marshall called me.  He had contacted Richmond
and found out I had cracked a big arson ring years earlier, and that I was
a detective with a good reputation. I don't think the Fire Marshall had
guessed that. The reviews must have been impressive.

"You are inside the studio and have access to people on a daily basis. Are
you willing to share any information you might find?" he asked.

"My job is to find bad guys, not protect my client's reputation," I
said. "I have no problem sharing information. By the way, I have no desire
to get credit for arrests. It is a lot better for me if the bad guys never
realize I am involved. I don't look like the detective type."

"The Richmond people said you were helpful and didn't get in the way," he
said. We talked for a while and I told him about the pranks.

"Do you think this is a prank?" he asked.

"I doubt it, but some pranks tend to grow and get out of hand," I said. "Is
it going to be arson and man slaughter or murder?"

"What makes you think it might be murder?" he asked.

"Somehow the phrase, burned beyond recognition, sets off alarms in my
mind," I said.

"His head had been bashed in before the fire," Dan said. "He was a Mexican,
was well liked and had five kids. He had worked for the studio for ten
years. That doesn't fit an arsonist's profile."

The next morning the office had relocated in another building and it almost
was business as usual. All the studios paperwork and records were backed up
on a remote computer. Maury had a super tech department. A high-flying
hedge fund had gone belly-up a few months earlier.  Maury got their
furniture at 20 cents on the dollar. Arsonists like to see the confusion
and destruction created by their acts. Being back in operation the next day
robs them of that satisfaction.