Date: Tue, 11 Dec 2018 11:18:02 -0500
From: bldhrymn@yahoo.com
Subject: Catfish Meets Santa

Catfish Meets Santa
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 Christmas donation to
Nifty

There are Santas and there are Santas. Some are Joke-Santas, wearing cheap
suits and unconvincing beards. They are hits at office parties and kiddy
parties if the kids are young. There are good Santas who usually have real
beards, good suits and charitable intent. They work for charities, visit
hospitals and bring cheer. A good many of the upscale department store
Santas fit in this category. They are promoting good will for the store and
most have a busy schedule of charitable visits.

My favorite Santa is Gus Athens. He was a second-generation Greek. His
original name was unpronounceable, and the immigration officer listed the
family as Athens. Gus joked "Athens" was the only sound the officer could
understand. Gus was a good chef of his own successful restaurant. When he
retired, he grew his beard and found it was both bushy and white. He was
outgoing and jolly, and he was recruited to be a Santa by the City
Foundation.

The City Foundation was a merger of six small foundations, one of whom
sponsored Christmas parties in poorer neighborhoods. The gifts to the
children always included warm winter coats, sweaters and shoes. Toys were
included, but they were a cover for the clothes.

I met Gus at a party of older, gay friends. Most of the guests were younger
than Gus or me and somehow, I ended the night naked in Gus's bed. He had
spent the last few years taking care of his elderly parents, who had
recently died. He had been out of circulation in the gay community for
years and thought he was too old to make new friends. Gus was a big man in
every respect, and by the time he took me home the next morning he had
discovered he was a horse-hung size-queen. His cock was a perfect fit for
my ass, and my tool found some new places in his behind. His house was
equipped for handicapped people and I discovered while showering with him
that his sperm was both tasty and filling.  A chef feeding me through his
cock was a turn on.  We were soon friends with benefits. We are both
affable and accommodating.

A few months later, Gus came to me with a problem. The City Foundation was
having difficulty fundraising. A new foundation with similar aims was
advertising on the TV a lot and had siphoned donations from his group. This
new foundation, Kids' Safe, was a nationwide operation. The week before, he
had been in Atlanta and happened to be on the street which was listed as
the site of that foundation's headquarters. He walked in to see what it was
like and discovered it was a Mail-Boxes-4-U operation.

Gus did more checking, and he knew they had a Richmond operation that
employed 25-30 people. Gus was not detective material, and I said I would
investigate it. I turned it over to my cyber guys. They were a combination
of computer guys and gals, young whizzes and old geezers with lots of time
on their hands.

They immediately encountered problems. It was difficult to find
information. That was a major indicator that something was wrong. A
legitimate foundation has no need for secrecy. That raised red flags and
set my geezers' natural Bloodhound tendencies into action.

We also alerted the police and regulatory bodies that something didn't
smell right. We had informal connections that kept my office officially
uninvolved. My guys did find that the foundation had their local checking
account at my friend Templeton's bank. I had a brief conversation with
him. Two days later he came by my apartment. Gus was there, cooking dinner
and he invited Templeton to stay.

Templeton's bank was the foundation's temporary way station which held
funds for a few days or a week until it was sent to another bank. This bank
was not named, however someone slipped up. One transfer was done to an
off-shore bank. That apparently was an error, but Templeton had the name of
the bank. It was they the Royal West Indian Bank. This was a potential gold
mine for my cyber guys.

Dinner was spectacular, and Templeton loved it.  He was a gourmet and
appreciated Gus's skills. All three of us had good gaydar, and after dinner
we relaxed. Gus was obviously interested. I had recently installed a small
steam room in my oversized bath. My body is a collection of aches and pains
and the steam helps to relax the muscles.

I suggested that we go to the steam room and they were fine with that. I am
small and look like I was assembled by a committee. Templeton is small and
perfectly proportioned, except for his oversized cock. You might think it
was a deformity, except it is a cock and oversized is always a good
combination. Gus was all but drooling. We went in the steam room.

"Since I know both of you, I should tell you that we all like the same
things and there is no need to be shy," I said. That comment was
unnecessary; we were all already hard.

"Is your cock as tasty as your cooking?" Templeton asked Gus.

"Catfish likes it. If you like to get up close and personal, you can sample
it.  It's the gift that keeps on giving," Gus said. "If that's too intimate
for a first meeting, I understand."

Templeton smiled and said, "I like to think I make friends easily."
Templeton gives off the impression that he is an uptight executive
type. That is true in business situations, but when he is with naked men,
he's very open minded. He went for Gus's cock and soon we explored all the
potential combinations of cock and ass. I sat on the marble bench. Gus was
on his hands and knees as the sucked me and Templeton fucked
him. Templeton's organ was not as thick as mine but was a little
longer. Gus liked it.

We rotated, and Templeton sucked me as Gus fucked him. It was a good
fit. We broke apart and showered. In the shower, Gus supported me with his
cock in my behind and an arm around my chest as Templeton fucked him
again. Gus was moaning as he matched Templeton's thrusts into him with his
thrusts into me. Gus had never been in a fuck train before and clearly
enjoyed it. Eventually, Templeton took Gus's load. Gus took mine and we all
had a sperm desert. It was a successful night.

Two days later, Gus was mugged. It was a bad attack and he was seriously
injured. A passing van saw it and honked. This was in the University
District where they had been recent muggings and the students didn't take
it well. The muggers got away, but just barely. The van was transporting
the Woman's Lacrosse team. If they had been able to get out of the van
faster, they have both caught the muggers and administered some street
justice.

I went to the hospital to see Gus.  He made a confession. When he had been
in Atlanta and found the mail drop, he had left this name and address with
the manager. He was thinking they might have just moved. He knew that was
stupid.

I told him it was unwise, but it was useful. This potentially turned the
case into interstate commerce and thus the FBI might get involved. That
would make it easier to investigate Atlanta and the Royal West Indian Bank.

Mugging Santa was big news and donations to the City Foundation
exploded. That solved the foundation's immediate problem. The Richmond
newspaper has an odd way of reporting crimes. In the suburban counties it
reports a murder as being somewhere in the county. In the City, it reports
a murder as being in a particular district. The paper is opposed to public
education and anything with in a mile of a public university is reported as
being near or adjacent to the school.

Catfish and Company gets a lot of work as a result of this. We are hired to
provide extra security for events. We have some uniformed personnel as well
as some undercover persons looking for potential problems. The University
Police and City Police are good, but we specialize in marginal types. These
are the sort of men and women who low life offenders don't notice.

While the police and the feds were looking for the big guys, I like to take
care of the trash. Muggers are the lowest of the low in my estimation. They
look for the weak and terrorize them. I wanted to find the men who attacked
Gus.

We were pretty sure they were local. A fashion student gave a detailed
description of what they were wearing, complete with name brands. The
student thought there was one guy from out of town, West Virginia. The
muggers made their escape down a less well-known street.  The major streets
were well covered by traffic cameras, so the attackers must have known
that.

When Gus got out of the hospital, I had him temporarily move in with
me. Since my apartment was over my office there was always protection and
someone to drive him. I also called the physical therapists who worked with
me when I lost my leg to help him recover. The Christmas season was two
months away and he wanted to play Santa.

A professor I knew called me with some information.  Jimmy Joyce was in the
art department and had a student who had seen the attack. Joyce was a
well-known artist with a gift for teaching. The student, who used the name
Billy-Boy, was eccentric even by the standards of art students. He was
older and inarticulate, but he had a photographic memory. Billy had trouble
telling you what he saw but could draw and paint it.

Billy-Boy had been detailing vans when Jimmy found him. He produced a
series of paintings of the mugging that were more detailed than the other
witnesses and cam footage. He had noticed dents in the car, that one of the
assailants was left handed and another had thick lenses in his
eyeglasses. He noticed the stickers on the car and the glint from the ring
one of the men wore.

Billy was almost as handsome as I am, but he was thin as a rail, six-three
and much harrier than me. Until you got to know him, he was a bit
scary. Jimmy brought him to my apartment since he was not good in
groups. Billy-Boy didn't think about what he was painting. He just saw and
recorded it all. He noticed one of the men had a slight limp. The paintings
were unusual and beautiful. The drama and terror of the attack had no
impact on Billy-Boy.

Gus had experience with waiters, dishwashers and the prep staff. Being odd
was no problem for him. Gus liked to cook and continuously made fresh
cookies, pastries, and sandwiches. We had lunch.  Billy-Boy thought a Big
Mac was gourmet food and he was dazzled by Gus's cooking.

I had known Jimmy Joyce for years. He had been the subject of unending,
obscure literary jokes for years. He was officially Dr. James Joyce, but
insisted you use Jimmy, rather than James. His late wife had been an
English Professor who specialized in Irish literature. She had died in an
accident. He took that badly and tried to drink his way through the
mourning process.

When I met him, he discovered he was bi. He thought that sex with a woman
was defiling his wife's memory, but sex with me was fine. When I got to
know him better, I pointed out that was strange. He agreed with me, but he
felt so much better since me met me, he didn't give a shit.

Jimmy had picked up Billy years earlier and only later discovered his
artistic talent. The sexual connection ended when Billy became a
student. That might have ended Jimmy's career. Somehow Gus and Billy
connected. Gus was 35 years older, but he was an outgoing, affectionate
man. Billy was borderline autistic. I guessed that Gus was the grandfather
he never had.

The food played a role. Apparently, Billy's mother didn't cook. For him
food was a barely defrosted pizza, a fast food burger or a granola bar. Gus
introduced him to enjoying food. Gus enjoyed sex too. Billy was used to
what I called rest stop sex. That was sex reduced to a minimum.  Gus took
his time and Billy savored the experience.

Jimmy was nice, but he was all oral, and lost interest after the
orgasm. Gus was full service and loved post orgasm contact. Billy was
usually cold, and he cuddled with Gus as his cock relaxed.

A few days our first meeting, I was in the shower when Billy and Gus walked
in and we joined forces. Billy was not responsive emotionally, but his cock
was in full working order and ultra-sensitive.

I took a seat on Billy's cock. I just wiggled and massaged his tool with my
sphincter.  He shot off a few pints of his special brew. After this visit,
Billy came to see Gus a lot. They got so they had conversations and had
conventional interaction. Billy gained weight and lost his somewhat
skeletal look. When I was there, I always sat on his cock. When he got used
to talking with Gus, he asked me if I enjoyed it.

I told him I discovered that my prostate was perfectly placed for his cock
head to massage. Billy didn't know he had a prostate. I explained that you
could finger it, but his cock was ideal since it had a nice curve and was
self-lubricating. I fingered him and asked him if he liked it.

He nodded. "It was really good. You and Gus aren't amateurs, are you?"

"I was amateur before I was sixteen," I said. "I met some older guys who
were nice and good teachers."

"I met some guys then. They weren't nice," Billy said. "It wasn't good, but
I kept on doing it."

"Sex is sex, even if it's bad sex," I said. Billy smiled.

I'm not making claims that sex is a good therapy for withdrawn men.
Discovering that you had a new sex organ and you have friends who can
introduce it to you tends to improve inter personal relationships.

Jimmy wanted to put Billy's mugging paintings on display. A major gallery
near the mugging site was between exhibitions and they were more than
willing to do an exhibition. I had seen small versions of the paintings and
sketches. Billy was a fast painter due to his job painting Vans. The final
paintings were the size of vans. They were huge. There were six giant
paintings, and twelve more paintings that focused on things like the ring,
and the dent.

The exhibit got great publicity, since the attack on Santa was big news. It
seemed as if the entire student body and staff of the university attended
as did most nearby residents. It was covered state wide and in Washington
in print and on television.

Most visitors were overwhelmed. It struck them as the work of an eccentric
genius. I had some of my operatives near the paintings listening to the
comments. My people were better at an artistic event than the police. They
overheard comments and soon tips began arriving at the police call
center. People began remembering things. These were not individually
significant, but if you plotted individual sightings on a map, there was a
clear clustering on a part of the city I called Trailer Park Heaven,
Jefferson Davis Highway.

If your life took a bad turn, you might end up on Jeff Davis. Billy-Boy
caught something about the dent. Dents were common on cars on the highway,
but one person noted this dent was special, made by a jacked-up, truck
bumper hitting the car at 45 degrees. Someone remembered a jacket with "Wet
& Wild" on it. Billy hadn't been able to read the letters, but he had the
spacing right and had noticed the ampersand.

Billy had also captured the exact shade of brown paint on the car. There
was a slightly reddish tone in one area. Someone recalled a brown car with
a rust spot in that location.

Billy had too much attention for him to be comfortable. Jimmy, Gus and
Templeton helped with that. Gus took care of the publicity. Templeton took
care of his financial needs. Billy-Boy was getting commissions. I asked my
people to drive along Jeff Davis and see if they could notice anything.

We were gaining on the case, but the case was expanding. The F.B.I. found
similar scams in Roanoke, Norfolk and Greensboro. The scammers seemed to
pick small to midsized cities. I assumed there was less police oversight.

 I sent some of my operatives to apply for jobs at the fake foundation's
call center. Employee turnover was massive in call center operations. The
only mugging was in Richmond. My tech people said there were multiple shell
corporations hiding the true ownership.

Gus recovered quickly. He liked the physical therapists and enjoyed his
Santa role. He returned to his house and my sex life took a turn for the
worse. Billy-Boy came by without Gus. Without Gus getting him to talk it
was difficult. He tended to stand there and hope you knew what he
wanted. Of course, I knew he wanted sex.  He eventually told me he wanted
to take Gus's cock, but he was afraid he wouldn't like it and that would
embarrass Gus. He wasn't sure he could take a big tool. He really wanted
some lessons on taking a cock up the ass.

I'm not that partial to fucking virgins. A man with some mileage on him is
more responsive and enjoys rather than fears my cock. They are more fun and
there is little stress. We talked, and Billy opened-up some. He felt he was
too tall, too thin and too hairy. Gus and I were odd looking and hairy. He
felt more comfortable with us. He was shocked and excited when we
reciprocated.

"You just have an oversupply of male characteristics and traits," I
explained. "You are a tall, hairy man with a big cock and balls that all
but drag in the floor. Would you rather be short, smooth with a mini-dick?"

"I guess the pieces are okay," he admitted. They aren't assembled into a
very attractive package."

"You've been hiding in the body shop for years. Now that you are better
known, I think you will find more admirers. We talked a while, and I told
Billy to come back when he wanted my cock up his behind. "I don't mind
providing educational services, but you need to want it. Templeton came by
and we had a nice little sucking interlude. Templeton and Billy left before
shooting off and I assumed they were off to Templeton's house for a night
time of fun.

I had shot off. Billy took and enjoyed it. I remembered that an orgasm is
the best sleeping pill as a drifted off to sleep.