Date: Fri, 14 Dec 2018 11:23:53 -0500
From: bldhrymn@yahoo.com
Subject: Catfish Meets Santa 2

Catfish Meets Santa 2
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

If you enjoy these stories. Please consider giving a Christmas donation to
Nifty


Two days later someone took shots at the home of the Chair of the City
Foundation, Elizabeth Talliferro Berkley. A widow of a millionaire
businessman, she devoted herself to charities after her husband died. She
was the public face and a stunningly successful fund raiser for the
foundation. Catfish and Company provided a new gardener, a maid and
chauffeur for her two days later. The city police provided cars patrolling
the street.

Templeton was close to Elizabeth's neighbor, art collector Thomas
Knight. He spent much of his time in New York or Europe, but he was home.
His house had a good view of Mrs. Berkley's estate. The servants' quarters
of his house were unused, so we could use it.  Knight liked butch men
according to Templeton, and I had several men who could fit the bill, Dewey
and Red Dog. They were open minded country boys.

All of this would seem to be overkill, but the F.B.I. had info that a
professional hit man was involved. The bullet that came close to killing
Mrs. Berkley was from Central Europe. The Feds thought that the local guys
had failed to eliminate the problem and professionals were needed now. They
also realized this might be a much larger operation than they had
suspected.

My people were now employed in the local call center, but it might take a
while to get information on them. I didn't want them to be too curious too
fast. Bambi could do a good imitation of a trailer trash gossip, and Robby
usually played a druggie trying to get a real job. Both had fake resumes
and a checkered work history. That was typical of many call center
employees. They considered it a plus.

Catfish and Company was stretched for operatives. I went to do the night
shift at Thomas Knight's house to fill in the gap. The first night I was
with Red Dog. The servants' quarters had a good view of the river side of
Mrs. Berkley's house. We had heat sensitive equipment and since it was late
fall, anyone coming in from the river would show up clearly. Since the
Police were openly on guard on the street, the rear might be the best
approach for a potential assassin.

We switched being on watch, but if anything happened, Red Dog would do the
interception, I would continue to watch. Out first night was
uneventful. Our "maid" was the same build and size as Mrs. Berkley. The
master bedroom was on the rear, so Mrs. Berkley was in the maid's room and
the maid was taking her place as a target complete with a bulletproof
nightgown.

Thomas had a steady stream of delivery men coming to his house. Part of his
art collection had been on display in Florida. The delivery service was
good, but trucks arrived randomly, so there was no pattern for the assassin
to suspect anything unusual was going on at the house.

Dewey did the day shift with the Kid, Red Dog's cousin. The truck that
would pick us up was delayed until 10:00. Thomas asked us if we would like
breakfast. That was fine with us. It was a good breakfast. Templeton had
told me that Thomas liked men with rough edges. It took me a little more
than three minutes to realize the Red Dog and I were Thomas's wet dream
come to life. I guessed that Red Dog and Thomas had connected before.

Red Dog had red hair, a massive beard and wore Lumberjack clothes. He had
been lumberjack and came to work for me after an accident. I knew he was
gay, but we had never connected. Red Dog was a redneck, but his mother had
taught him manners like my mother had taught me.

Thomas was a tall, beefy man with slightly effeminate mannerisms. He a
gadfly but was generous to cultural institutions. He restored badly
deteriorated historic buildings as a hobby. He was unexpectedly direct.

"Catfish, Templeton has told me a lot about you. All has been good, indeed
exceptionally good. He did mention that your physical attributes are
unconventionally attractive," Thomas said. "I am attracted to pretty young
men most of the time."

"And you like a trip on the wild side once and a while?" I asked.

Thomas looked shocked. "Have I offended you?"

I laughed. "It takes a lot to offend me," I said. "I don't like small talk
and beating around the bush. If you are into it, I prefer to get naked and
go at it."

"You must be a mind reader," Thomas replied. We went to an exercise room in
the basement and showered. Thomas was slightly overweight, but well
equipped and well-tanned.  He had been on a Caribbean vacation.

"I have a little confession to make. You noticed that I'm not the most
macho man you have ever met," Thomas said. "I have a strange urge to take
redneck cum. Is that a problem?"

"It has never been a problem before," I replied. Thomas giggled.

"Tommy thinks I'm big," Red Dog said as he looked at my cock. "Catfish is
in the next weight class! Is it too big for you, Tommy?"

"I would like to find out," Tommy replied. We dried off and went to the
exercise room. The room had comfortable sofas and chairs mixed in with
exercise equipment. Neither Tommy or Red dog were shy, and Tommy had a
drawer of lubricants, condoms and poppers available. I sat on a chair as
Tommy sucked me and Red Dog straddled my body, so I could suck him. As soon
as I sucked him, precum began to flow.

When he was rock hard, he relocated. Lubricating his cock, he gave Tommy a
bottle of poppers. As Tommy took a snort, Red Dog pushed his cock into
Tommy's ass. This seemed to inspire Tommy to try to deep throat my cock.

"It's smooth as silk in Tommy's love tunnel," Red Dog muttered. "Tommy
knows how to make a guy feel welcome. It going to be hard to hold
back. Catfish, do you mind churning up another guys load? I feel like I'm
going to shoot off soon. I shoot a big load and it may be messy for you."
Tommy moaned.

"I don't mind a mess. Are you okay with it, Tommy?" I asked.

"Oh please!" Tommy cried. Red Dog rear loaded him and five minutes later I
did the same. I've been around the block a few times, but I felt like Red
Dog's deposit added a little zing for me. Red Dog had a short refill time,
so he made a second visit and shot off again. Tommy was more than
happy. Red Dog and I had to get back to the office, and Tommy was still
smiling when we left.

Later that day I had a call from Templeton. Thomas had called him told him
how much he had loved the interlude after breakfast. Templeton told me that
Thomas was an only child and had an obsessively protected childhood. He
rarely met other children and no one who had not been preselected by his
mother.

Templeton met him at the bank after college, and Thomas thought he was a
peasant. They connected sexually, and Templeton used his oversized cock to
administer anal therapy to teach Thomas his true place in the world. That
ended the relationship for about a month when Thomas came back as a better
man. Thomas had recognized he was clueless when it came to interpersonal
relationships. "Thomas can be a jerk, but I just need to shove my cock up
his ass and he mellows," Templeton observed.

I was at Thomas's house every other day for a week. Red Dog, Dewey, the Kid
and I rotated duties. The Kid was Red Dog's 25-year-old cousin. As far as I
could tell, he had been raised by wolves. His mother had died young and his
father claimed to be a hunter and mountain guide. He was an alcoholic and
borderline abusive, so Red Dog took in the Kid to give him a chance at a
real life.

The Kid was a hunter and was great on stakeouts. Waiting ten or twelve
hours for a deer was the same as waiting for a suspect. He seemed to go in
a trance until the slightest movement broke the spell. He was also a superb
marksman. One of his tricks for staying awake was fondling his cock and
edging. When he alternated with Dewey, when it was time to rest, Dewey
would suck him off and swallow his cum.

The Kid would fall asleep immediately. Four hours later the Kid would wake,
drain Dewey's balls and then take up watching. I had noticed more men were
volunteering for night watches, and I suspected that the Kid was the
reason. When the morning crew took over, Dewey and the Kid would have
breakfast and then feed Thomas some joy juice. Thomas was happy with this
arrangement.

I was there when the Kid saw some movement at the river. He was good about
telling the difference between the movements of a deer, a man and a
racoon. He knew this was a man, probably dressed in black. I called my crew
in the house and the police. There was a sliver of the moon, so our night
goggles worked perfectly.

The Kid went tracking. He wore an electronic marker, so we could follow him
on the property. We knew where the intruder was holed up. We could transmit
his location to a police drone. It wasn't military grade, but it was good
enough. Dewey left to provide back up. The suspect began moving quickly
toward the house. I had hoped the police SWAT team would be there, but they
had just arrived at the other side of the house.

Mrs. Berkley had brought a cup of tea to my "maid" in her bedroom. The
suspect saw the activity in the bedroom window; he raised his weapon. There
was a shot. The Kid was a good marksman. He aimed to kill, but he hit the
suspect in the arm, sending the rifle flying. It was an automatic weapon
and it shot ten or twelve rounds harmlessly into the air.

The Kid was on the suspect seconds later. The search lights on a police
copter soon flooded the lawn with light. The SWAT team quickly took care of
the scene. An hour later all trace of the event had vanished. There was no
mention of the event on air or in the papers. Our connection with the event
vanished too. This was our standard arrangement with the Richmond Police.

The assassin made one major error, he had his hotel room key in his
pocket. Back in the room was his encrypted computer. Encryption is rarely a
problem for the FBI.

My people at the call center were beginning to find information. These were
mostly phone numbers including those for a district office and one labeled
HQ. The district office was an Alexandria number, and the HQ was in the
Philadelphia area code. The FBI liked these numbers a lot.

Gus recovered enough to return to his Santa duties. The kids didn't know he
was the Santa who was mugged, but the parents and major donors knew. I
provided several additional elves to watch over him.

On the surface nothing was happening in the investigation of Gus's
mugging. Out of view there was an investigation of a multistate scam. Most
scams do not involve violence. We had a scam that included a mugging and an
attempted murder by a professional hit man. There was something big going
on and the Richmond operation was only a small part of it. Two weeks before
Christmas the FBI raided "charitable" operations in five cities and closed
twelve charities.

Back in Richmond, Bambi, one of my call center operatives, saw a man
talking with the manager wearing an oversized ring. She recognized it from
one of Billy Boy's paintings. That was the break we needed. An undercover
cop followed him home to a Jeff Davis trailer park and found the car with
the odd dent covered with a tarp. By Christmas Eve the entire scam was out
of business.

The scam was not what I expected. It seemed to be a fake charity that made
money by taking donations for needy children at Christmas. The main
objective to get e-mail addresses, passwords and banking information of
their donors. The intention was to loot their bank accounts.

The problem was basic to this sort of scam. You had to get in quickly, and
then close and vanish before the Feds and State Attorney Generals caught
on. While the ring leaders were high powered gangsters, the lower echelon
employees were marginal, low level thugs who aspired to being gangsters and
con men.

When the top brass heard someone was making inquiries, they told the local
guys to take care of it. The men who attacked Gus were one step up from
being pickpockets. They were the drunks at a Jeff Davis Highway dive.

This caused too much publicity, and the big boys sent a hit man to
neutralize the foundation that they thought was causing the problem. The
FBI thought they hired a discounted hit man and as a result the entire
organization collapsed.

When we thought Gus needed protection as Santa, somehow, I became and
Elf. My beard was mostly white, and I sat next to Gus handing him toys and
clothes for the children. There were two very perky girl elves and two male
elves helping us. They were all gymnasts, so they were strong and able to
lift children into Gus's lap. He couldn't lift due to his injuries. I sat
in a way that you couldn't tell I was short one leg.

I was known as Grumpy but mixing a little of Snow White and the Seven
Dwarfs with the Christmas Story didn't bother anyone. We did special events
at hospitals, churches and Children's homes, so we usually did four to
eight events a week. The girls went home a week before Christmas, but the
male elves stayed on, and a Mrs. Santa and Aunt Christmas filled in the
gap.

Roger and Denny, the elves were muscular and high energy. They never got
tired of lifting children on to Santas' knee or helping where ever they
could. Once when we went to a rehab center, we told the older kids I was a
detective and about my missing leg since many of them were missing a leg or
arm. I told them I functioned much as I did before I lost the leg. I said
being ugly and small was helpful in undercover work, but I had caught
dozens of muggers and thieves. My missing leg made me a little too
memorable, but there were still guys who never guessed I could even be a
detective. That was oddly inspirational.

Roger and Denny hadn't known the story and they became more talkative and
friendlier after they knew the full story. Roger got along well with
Gus. Gus mentioned my sexual tastes to him.  Roger and Denny lived together
but Roger had a roving eye that bothered Denny.

Santa had a visit to a rehab center in rural Lafayette county.  Santa, the
Elves and I were caught in an ice storm returning home. Travel was
impossible, so we shared a room at an overfilled motel. The room had single
queen-sized bed. The bigger rooms were used by families who had been caught
in the storm. The man at the desk told us they usually lost electricity in
storm like this, but they had a generator to run the furnace. He
recommended that we might take a shower soon. The generator did not feed
the hot water tank. We had been at an overheated nursing home, so we were
sweating inside our Christmas costumes.

Gus and Roger showered together. I had a feeling that had happened
before. I was with Denny who was more attractive undressed than dressed. He
had a small muscular frame, but it was gymnast muscles not weight
lifters. He had a hairy chest and a treasure trail to his bush.

Denny looked at my cock and said, "Gus told me you were hung. I thought I
was into big ones, but yours is ridiculous."

I laughed. "Remember the cock is sort of like a Swiss Army Knife. It's
useful in many ways."

"He also told me you aren't shy," he said.

Gus and Roger came out of the bathroom and it was Denny and my turn. He
helped me get in the shower and that gave us a chance to get up close and
personal. There was a bench in the tub, so I sat and since Denny's cock was
at mouth level, I introduced his cock to my tonsils.

That caught him off guard. He had assumed I would make him suck me. I found
out his relationships with older men had been poor. Roger liked older
men. Denny thought they were dirty old men and he was slumming. Of course,
everyone has their own preferences, but even the most beautiful young thing
will eventually get old. There are desperate older men who do everything
possible to stay young, but so far, none have succeeded.

Luckily for me, a horse-hung dirty-old-man has more options than old men
with average equipment. Some men are too virtuous to use a superficial
anatomical oddity to gain advantage. I am not one of those virtuous
persons. My only virtue is that I don't discriminate against small or
average endowments. While that is a virtue, my mother might point out it is
not so virtuous as to guarantee entrance to heaven. Denny's equipment was
average, but his reaction to stimulation was well above average. Every time
my tongue rubbed his knob he reacted.

Back in the bed, Roger and Gus were fully involved and that encouraged
Denny. The lights went out along with the heat. After a minute or two the
heat returned but it remained dark. I had been in bed, and Denny joined
me. He snuggled close to me.

"I used to share a sleeping bag with my cousin Don when we went camping in
cold weather," he whispered. "We had a lot of fun. I never came in him, but
it was close." Denny was hard, and he was rubbing his cock against my ass
crack. I didn't say anything, but I shifted my leg. Even in the dark, Denny
had no problem finding my hole.

He didn't exactly fuck me. It was more of a gentle prostate massage. After
ten minutes he gave my prostate a sperm bath and fell asleep. He woke up a
few times that night, resumed his massage and added more sperm. We weren't
lovers the next morning, but we were friends. He told me that his
relationship with Roger improved after that night. "When two guys cheat,
the cheating cancels out," he explained.