Date: Sat, 20 May 2017 14:07:51 -0400
From: bldhrymn@aol.com
Subject: Catfish Takes a Hit

Catfish takes a Hit

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

Tony's Restaurant has been a popular neighborhood watering hole for sixty
years. It has had the same menu for most of those years. It is a family
restaurant, an artist hangout, the official place to have an office
birthday party, a sports bar and a somewhat gay bar depending on when you
eat there. It isn't stylish; it is dependable, friendly and cheerful.

I finished diner around 9:00 and was walking home when I heard a
scream. Urban neighborhoods are noisy, but somehow you can always tell a
real scream from a recreational scream. The tree-lined street was narrow,
but I could see some activity near the corner. I ran toward it, yelling
"What the fuck is going on here?" I'm small, but have a deep base voice.

I saw lights turning on in the houses and front doors opening.  Seconds
later I saw a woman on the ground and three men standing over her. I
launched myself at the man with his pants down. That simplified the
decision making as to which man to go after first. The men were big, but I
am a feisty guy. I disrupted the attack. I was doing well until I heard a
loud bang. Suddenly, I was on the ground and hit my head on a curb.

I woke up four days later in intensive care. While I was unconscious, the
neighbors, the restaurant patrons and staff, and a particularly aggressive
dog had made short work of the three men. The dog apparently saw the gun
and didn't like it at all. The dog got the gun and a good portion of the
perpetrator's hand. The neighbors were unarmed, except to the cooks from
Tony's who had meat cleavers and knives. The police arrived quickly and
found the situation under control, except for the kitchen staff who wanted
to "teach the guys a lesson." They seemed to think some amputations might
make their displeasure clear.

I was out of it, in a coma with a fractured skull from the concrete
curb. When I came out of the coma, my Mom was there, with Wally, my
organist friend and John, one of my oldest friends. I had a terrible
headache. My head was immobile, but everyone seemed nice.

I couldn't do anything on my own, but doctors, nurses and orderlies seemed
to have plans. My leg hurt like hell, but they were more worried about the
fractured skull. Two days later I found out why they were so casual about
my leg. My leg wasn't there anymore. It had been amputated below the
knee. The doctor said he gunshot had destroyed so much of the bone, it
could not be saved.

"I looked at the x-rays," my mother said, "There was no other option." Mom
was a nurse and a good nurse. While she was eighty now, she was still sharp
as a tack. I was confused and couldn't get my thoughts in order. I couldn't
figure out what to do next.

Mom and Wally took control.  A few days later, she had to go home to take
care of her husband, but Wally was more than capable of being a
overcontrolling mother.  Organists are usually bossy. Wally was bossy,
decisive and knew the ins and outs of the medical system. He did a lot of
hospital visits for his church and knew everybody of any importance.

Luckily, my office staff was good and could run my business. A week later,
I transferred to a rehab center-nursing home next to Monument Avenue. They
needed to protect my skull while getting me mobile. The center was on the
up-scale side of my neighborhood. I lived in the more modest part, but it
was the same neighborhood. That was good.

I had my own room, with a sitting area and a full bath. It could have
passed as a studio apartment, except for the emergency alarm buttons all
over the place. The intention was to give the healthier residents a sense
that it was a home, not a hospital ward.

My physical therapist was Rod Miller. He was one of Wally's pals. I didn't
know him but he knew of me. We got along well. While he was a classic
hard-but-fair therapist, he seemed to sense when I had enough. Crutches
were not a problem, but the brain thing seemed to cause problems. Both of
my arms worked, except sometimes my left arm seemed to have mind of its
own.

Rod told me I was in good shape considering what could have happened. Rod
was a freelance therapist, who wasn't directly associated with the
home. That could have caused a problem, but he liked to bake and he
regularly brought cookies and pastries for the staff. He soon got along
with the staff well.

I had to wear a padded helmet sort of thing to protect my skull, but I was
good with crutches. Ron was a big man and if I got wobbly, he was there and
effortlessly provided support. I needed the most help in the shower and he
was always there to help.

After several weeks, I was feeling better and the worst of the problems
moving around improved. John told me that my apartment was still a work in
progress, so I should stay at the rehab center for a month or two until an
elevator was installed. My mother visited and she and Rod decided that was
best. "When you feel better is when problems occur," Rod explained. "You
are 85% to 90% recovered and you get over confident. Think of it as a
vacation, not rehab."

My stump was mostly healed and using crutches seemed to have improved my
upper body strength. For an aging older guy, I was almost buffed. It had
also been an extended sexless period. Of course, I knew Rod was gay, but he
was always professional. He told me that many of his patients fell in love
with him, since they were dependent on him caring for them. He was friendly
but not overly affectionate. He knew was easier to get into a relationship
than to get out of it.

I was soon able to take walks on the street and ran into a friend, Bob
Goodman. He was now retired, but he had been a building contractor I had
met after a bombing years earlier. He repaired many of the damaged
houses. He had a good crew and knew most of the smaller builders in the
area. Was honest and skilled and did work at normal prices, not with a
mark-up for emergency repairs.

Now that he was retired, he tended to advise his neighbors when they needed
work. Old mansions require more skills than the usual suburban house
builder needed. He could give advice and help contractors who got in over
their heads.

He lived in a spectacular house that had been derelict when he bought it 40
years earlier. His wife was a decorator and they turned the house into a
show place for both his skills and showing what could be done with the
"White Elephants" that lined the street. I had been walking down the street
and was a little wobblily; he was in the porch of his house a got me to a
chair. Jane, his wife, came out with drinks and cookies.

Of course, they knew all about the episode at Tony's. The jungle drums in
heathy urban neighborhoods are efficient. They also knew quite a bit about
phantom pain, since one of Bob's friend had lost a foot due to diabetes.
We chatted and then Bob walked with me back to the home. I think he watched
for me on my daily walk and came out to chat.

While he had retired, Bob still had a lot of energy. He tended to help
neighbors in need and kept an eye on the older residents. Most were in good
health, but a few were slipping. He told me he was worried about his
immediate neighbor, Margot Vienner. She had dementia and he hadn't seen her
in months.  A nephew was there and told Bob she was too sick for visitors
and she had regular nursing care. Bob and Jane didn't like the cousin or
his wife.

"There is one strange thing. If there is nursing care, there are no cars
parked in the rear, and I only see the cousin and his wife in the
afternoon. Deliveries are made to the rear, but I think most go home with
them that evening," he said.

"Are there lights on at night?" I asked.

"Yes, but they are regular as clockwork," he said. "I assume they are on
automatic timers."

"I will see if I can do a little checking up for you," I said

"What is the fee?" he asked.

"As long as Janes keep on making cookies, we are even," I said. I went home
and called the office and asked for a quick check on Margot Vienner.

I discovered that I have no tendency toward masochism. Pain does not excite
me. My doctors were good about pain management, but were also worried about
addiction to pain killers. Drugs dulled the pain, but tended to dull
everything else. They reduced the pain killers as I recovered. As the pain
killers diminished, my sex drive returned.

That was good, in some ways, but a nursing home is not the perfect place to
rediscover your sex life. I had thought that I was in control of my sex
life, I could take it or not. Confronted with the potential for sex, I
could say yes or no, depending on my mood.

If I were more honest with myself, I might have noticed that I almost
always said yes. As my Uncle Jake had said years earlier that I wasn't
movie star material, but I was hung like Godzilla. I get some curiosity
seekers who want to find out what it is like. I attract plain old fashioned
Size Queens. While there are some one-night-stands, they are more men who
come back for a refill. Some become friends.

Rod had to go to his home town for a funeral and Wally asked me over to his
house for the weekend. I think that he wanted to see how I could do without
nursing care. I was feeling good and wanted to get out.

Wally is one of my older friends. He is gay, helpful, talented, smart and
makes friends easily. He has a sense about who is gay and who would be
compatible. Wally lives in a secluded house on an island overlooking the
James.

When I got to Wally's house, he was with other old friends, Templeton and
John. Templeton was a dapper banker and otter. John was a building
contractor and polar bear. Wally had some new friends, Colin and Frank who
were members of his choir, and Randy, his gardener. They were younger men.
Colin was a stockbroker, a bit over weight and clean shaven. Frank was
tall, thin landscape architect.  Randy was maybe 30. He was a LL Bean type,
but looked on edge. Something suggested to me that he had made some poor
lifestyle choices. He lived above Wally's garage. Wally used the garage
apartment for people who had problems.

Wally's house was not handicapped accessible, but the library on the first
floor had a full bath attached so Wally moved a bed in for me. With
crutches. I could walk pretty well and I could manage some steps, but a
long flight of stairs was a problem.

Wally entertained regularly, and he had a special gift of finding
compatible guests. It took no more than fifteen minutes for us to feel at
home. Wally planned to have lunch at the natural pool on the sunny side of
the property. I am not a big guy, so Colin and Randy took me down to the
pool.

The old steps had been steep and irregular. Wally had rebuilt them to
Frank's design. The design was clever and pretty, with a summer house at
the mid-point. The pool had been replanted with native species. It looked
natural, but I knew every plant had been carefully sited.

I also knew it was usually a nude pool.  Everyone knew that and we all
stripped. Colin helped me undress. "I'm a little uneasy about my stump," I
told Colin.

He laughed, "When you are naked, I doubt anyone looks at your leg!" he
said. "Wally told me you are a natural wonder."

"Are you a size queen?"  I asked.

Colin smiled and replied, "I didn't think so." He was beefy, and while his
head was carefully groomed and shaved, his body, front and back was
furry. He had an average cock that seemed to be all knob and huge balls.

I looked around and saw Templeton with Randy. John was with Frank and
Wally. It was casual and relaxed in the warm sunshine, but men are men and
while the cocks weren't hard, they were clearly perky. It was two months
after I was shot and all the old urges came back. As my cock firmed up,
Colin's cock responded. Our cocks did a slow strip tease, as the foreskins
retraced and exposed our cock heads. A drop of precum emerged from his
slit. I licked it.

I didn't know it at the time, but I had made a friend. Later, Wally told me
that Colin had just broken up with his domineering lover. His lover
disliked cock juices, both precum and sperm. Colin produced both fluids
generously, as soon as he began to drip, his lover was turned off.

Before we had a chance to get into it, Wally said lunch was ready. Wally
was a good, interesting cook. He had a knack for turning ordinary food into
something special. The conversation was easy and comfortable. We talked
about music and landscape.  Eventually Wally eased the conversation to sex,
extolling the virtue of meaningless sex. That seemed to shock Collin, who
said he was after true love.

"True love is nice, but there is nothing wrong with good enough sex as you
seek out Mr. Right," Wally said. "I admit that I like sex. I like sex a
lot. Sometimes it's nice to know if the sex is good, before you get into a
permanent relationship."

"I have friends and I have playmates," Templeton added. "I have one friend
who is in a relationship, but it isn't sexually satisfying. Sex with me
seems to make his other relationship better."

"I was in the closet for long time," Randy said. "I used to find men in a
park after dark. I was 25 before I screwed with a man in a room with lights
on!"

"I have had sex with many men who became friends, but not much luck with
friends who became sex partners," John said. "It usually didn't feel
right."

After lunch, we got in the water. It was relaxing and one foot was enough
to stand. As a choir director, Wally was always organized and left nothing
to chance. I was fine, but there was always someone near me, should there
be a problem.

I didn't think that was necessary, but I confess I used the proximity to
make sexual contact with the new men, as well as my old friends. I was
thinking this would be a quick fondling or cock licking, but it was more
than that. I wasn't the only one to get excited by naked men.

I knew that my cock became more attractive when it was hard.  It seemed to
work the old magic on the younger men. Colin returned to where we had been
before lunch. I was in the water, Colin was sitting on the edge. As soon as
I went over to him, he was erect. He began to ooze as soon as my tongue
touched his knob. I touched the blob of precum with my tongue a swirled it
over the oversized cock head. He shivered in excitement.

"I'm afraid I might shoot off," he whispered.

Looking up at him, I said, "That's why we are here!"

"I make a mess," he said.

I smiled. "After lunch, that mess is called the desert," I added. "I like
it fresh from the spigot."

"The guys are watching," he said.

"Don't worry, they wish that they were in your place," I said. Colin lasted
longer than I had guessed. His flow of precum matched exactly his level of
excitement, so I would slow up when he got close and catch his
breath. Wally and Templeton came over and sat next to him. They talked and
made it clear that all was well.  Colin relaxed some.  He had a sensitive
cock head and after a while he reacted with enthusiasm. When he calmed down
a little, I worked him up to the edge again. Eventually he shot off with a
massive cum dump into my mouth.

Wally and Templeton went to the deck chairs with Colin. I sat on the edge
of the pool as Frank and Randy swam over to me. I was semi-hard and Randy
took that as an invitation. I talked with Frank.

"I take it that you aren't shy?" he asked.

I smiled. "I tend to be friendly. Mom told me to be nice to everyone. "My
Uncle Jake told me to be friendly. Actually, he said that I'd better be
nice, since I wasn't going to make it on my good looks alone!"

"That probably good advice for everyone, but a bit brutal," Frank said.

"You had to know my Uncle Jake to understand," I said. "He was a good guy,
but he sometimes said you need a sledgehammer to get the point across. He
also told me that if I could walk around naked, I would make plenty of
friends.  My cock is a family trait."

"Evaluating men on their cock size is superficial," Frank said, "But damn,
it is a turn on."

Randy looked up and added, "It sure works for me!"

"I don't think you get to pick what turns you on," I said, "but a big cock
often does the trick."

"Do you take advantage of that?" Frank asked.

"I sure do!" I replied. Frank laughed. A little later he traded places with
Randy and still later, I returned to the water to suck them. It was a
pleasant afternoon. A thunderstorm interrupted the party and we raced to
get in the house. Since speed was necessary, Colin carried me. He was
beefy, but there was muscle under the beef.

We had dinner with good food and plenty of drink. Templeton was in the
Estates and Trust division of his bank.  I asked if he knew of Margot
Veinner. He said she was one of his clients, but the account had been
inactive for years.  I told him about Bob's concerns. He said he would
check up on it. I knew that Templeton worked with big estates and made sure
his clients were happy. Most were elderly and he was on the lookout for
scams. I had helped him with some of those problems.

I was tired and went to bed early. Frank and Colin spent the night
too. They had too much to drink and Wally was firmly opposed to drunk
driving. I woke up at 6:00 the next morning. I turned on a light and
someone knocked at the door.  I told him to come in: it was Colin.

"Could I talk to you for a minute?" he asked. "Wally said you wouldn't
mind." I told him that was fine.

"Did I offend you when I shot off in your mouth?" he asked. "I didn't mean
too. it just happened."

"Some guys like to get some warning, but I don't care.  I think it's a
tribute to my cock sucking skills," I said. "You sure shot a good load,
sweet and creamy."

"It didn't disgust you?"

"Not at all."

"Do I need to take yours?" Colin asked.

"That's up to you," I said. "It's your preference, not mine. For your
information, I make deliveries at the front, or rear door."

"Can anyone take that thing up the ass?" Colin asked. He was wearing a
robe, I was naked.

"They do and most come back for more," I said. "Have you been fucked?"

Colin shook his head. "I've been afraid to try," he said, "I guess your
cock isn't the ideal starter cock?"

"The only time that worked is when the guy really wanted it and he sat on
my cock," I said, "He was in control and could set the pace. Are you
interested?"

"I don't know. My ex-boyfriend, Josh, was really handsome, but he has
strict rules," Colin said. "We never fucked. Actually, we rarely had
sex. Things had to be just right. He liked candles and soft music. He would
let me suck him, but if my cock oozed anything, it turned him off."

"Does that mean that as soon as you became excited, he turned off?" I
asked.

Colin nodded. "He was so handsome, I couldn't believe we were together. He
eventually went off with a better-looking guy."

"Well, I've never been handsome, but the sex is usually great," I
said. Colin was never going to be a model for trendy skinny jeans, but he
was an attractive man. Granted he was more of a blacksmith or lumberjack
type than a member of a boy band, but he was all man.

We talked and eventually Wally, Frank and Randy joined us. I wasn't a total
surprise that talking about sex resulted in mini-orgy. Wally had said that
a mouthful of sperm sometimes cleared the pallet for breakfast.

Randy and Colin shared my cock and when I shot off, they shared the load
too. Colin seemed to like it. Colin and Frank went home after breakfast and
The rest of the weekend was quiet and pleasant.

I was back at the nursing home on Monday. At 11:00, I had a call from
Templeton. He had discovered that the Vienner account was no longer
inactive. Withdrawals to pay for nursing were now regular. Templeton was
shocked and very unhappy. Bank policy was that any activity in an inactive
account was to be brought to the attention of a Senior Officer. The junior
officer who handling the account thought that medical expenses were
automatically approved.

Templeton also discovered that a junior officer had accepted new signatures
of the nephew who had Power of Attorney.  That also required the permission
of a Senior Officer. Templeton called Mrs. Vienner's attorney and
discovered that he had not drawn up the document. Something was not right.

I called my office and my computer guys were working. Working isn't the
right word. They obsess. They had found some info on the nephew, but his
wife didn't seem to exist. People who didn't exist on line, were
automatically suspect.