Downsize 1
I meet the Sherif
By Bald Hairy Man e-mail bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@excite.com
This is an adult story intended for adults. It is a fantasy, so I again remind you that have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and have included no gestures toward common sense either. These are all new stories. Please e-mail me if you have any suggestions or comments.
I am Bill Williamson. At age 50 I had been downsized. After 28 years of work at Fidelity Bank they no longer needed me. It just happened that it was two years short of being able to retire at full salary. As it was, the retirement didn't kick in until age 63, so I had a 13-year gap. I also discovered that my wife interpreted for better or worse as better only and she found true love with a doctor who did not have the downsized problem.
My kids were just finished college and had jobs. One joined the Navy and the other was in Paris translating for a multinational corporation, so I was suddenly alone. It was a shock, but I had always felt I was a resilient guy, and this certainly was the acid test.
I had been a history major at the University and had expected to teach on graduation. I got the job at the bank almost immediately after school and had done well, at least I thought I had done well in banking, but history was my love. I decided to go for it and have a mid life career change. I looked through the want adds and then applied for a job as a teacher any where and everywhere. That is how I ended up in Wythetown, Virginia teaching history in a high school.
Wythetown was on the edge of the border with West Virginia and was a bit down home but comfortable. Living there was inexpensive and that eased the transition between being an executive banker in Richmond to country school teacher.
I was afraid that my expectations of teaching might have been misguided. I had never taught before and didn't know if I would be any good at it. I soon realized that I did indeed love it, and that I was also good at it. I was well educated and worldly in comparison to some of the faculty. The students were generally good and some had real potential. I am a big bearded man, 6-4 and 220 pounds, and I almost never had a discipline problem.
I discovered that because I wasn't a native, I didn't know who came from a good family and who was from a bad one. I found a few kids from the "bad" families that I was able to help and make a real difference on their lives. Some went to college when they hadn't expected to get out of high school. Several went to major universities when they hadn't visualized much more than a community college.
It sounds corny, but I also was proud of those for whom High School was the last degree they would ever get. My history, speech and government classes made them into better citizens. That is about as good as it gets.
As a divorced man, I was a hot property, but soon the word got out in the widow and divorcee crowd that I had a bad experience with my ex, and it had soured me on marriage. That was true, but I had actually lost interest in women after the hormonal rush of young adulthood, and as my marriage wound down. I found my self thinking of men in sexual terms. I didn't act on these thoughts, but they did recur.
Most of my friends were other teachers, but I didn't have any close friends. In a small town like Wythetown, most people made their friends in grade school. The people were friendly but not open. They didn't need new friends, and didn't really know what to do with a new person in town.
This changed when I went to a public hearing in front of Town Council with my class and met Bubba McDonald . Bubba was the police chief. He was a good police man but tongue tied in front of a group, scared shitless. He wasn't an articulate man, and he was being attacked by a group alleging racial discrimination in his department. I knew that wasn't true since he had called me several times to see if there were any students who might like to join the department, and he specifically asked if there were any minorities. I said there was and Bob Brown, one of my students, joined the force.
I joined in the fray and told of my limited experiences with the Police chief. One of my students, LaWonta Smith, volunteered that she had never heard of anyone complain about Bubba, and that didn't apply to his predecessor in the job who was a racist pig. That tipped the scale. It turned out that this was a group from the tidewater area that went from town to town making the same allegations, hoping to strike pay dirt.
Bubba called me up that night and thanked me.
"You know you had a good case. You didn't need me." I said.
"I just can't talk in front of people." He said. "I freeze."
"You need to take my class." I said. "Know your material and organize it and it will fall in place." Well, to make a long story short, I gave Bubba an informal class in public speaking. He came to my house and we worked on his speaking skills. Nothing makes it easier to learn than need, and Bubba needed to learn how to speak in public. He was a good student. He wouldn't end up being another Winston Churchill but eventually he was good.
One Saturday several months later, Bubba appeared as I was drying off after a shower. No one locked their doors in Wythetown and I was naked in my bedroom and found him there.
"You need to knock!" I exclaimed.
"Sorry. I need your help. I have a television crew on the way. They want me to talk about the Avis murders." This had been a brutal killing in the next county. Bubba had captured the suspects the day before.
"Let me get dressed." I said. "I'll go over things with you."
"No need to get dressed." Bubba said. "You've got nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing at all." Bubba was looking, actually staring, at my cock.
"Thanks for the compliment." I said. "More decoration than useful to me these days."
"That's a shame." Bubba said. "I hate wasting good cock." I couldn't believe he said that. I was trying to think of what to say next, when he got on his knees and sucked it. I couldn't believe he did that either. Or how good he was at doing it.
I had always heard man to man sex described as unnatural. Well this was the most natural thing in the world to me. The feeling of shock was immediately replaced by incredibly pleasurable sensations. Nothing in 25 years of marriage was as good as this. I went from soft to hard and then to an orgasm in less than a minute.
"Sorry." I said as I filled his mouth. He lapped it up. Then he stood up.
"Thanks for shooting so fast. I don't have much time." He said. "I normally don't do this. I kind of got carried away."
"It was wonderful." I said. We quickly went over the case and arranged what he needed to say. He went off. I stayed up that night to watch the story on the 11:00 news. He looked and sounded competent, straight forward and intelligent. I called him immediately.
"You were great." I said.
"You couldn't tell I was scared?"
"Not at all." I said. "You did yourself proud."
"I'm hope I didn't embarrass you at your house this afternoon." Bubba said. "That isn't standard operating procedure."
"I wish it was." I said. "It was wonderful. I really enjoyed it."
"I'm glad you aren't mad." He said. "I'd love to do it again."
"You can read my mind." I said. "No one has ever done that before you. I'm willing to try it again."
"Maybe we can get together again?" he asked with a tone of genuine uncertainty in his voice.
"What about tomorrow night for dinner?" I suggested.
"That sounds good to me. Where?"
"Let's try my house." I said. "It's nice and quiet here." That was fine for him so we had a date. The next day I was remarkably excited and felt a bit like a teenager waiting for the prom. I got some steaks from the local Food Lion and tried to imagine what Bubba would be like.
He arrived in his cruiser at six on the dot. We had a few drinks and talked. We were both a bit uncomfortable.
"I hate to sound tacky, but I'm horny as shit." Bubba blurted out. "Let's go mess around some then talk and eat after?"
"That sounds like a plan to me." I replied. We went to my bedroom and stripped. Bubba was a natural dirty blond, crew cut with a bristlely mustache. He was six feet and muscular with curly hair on his chest and gut. His cock looked short, thick and was uncut. He was on my cock in a second.
I got him on the bed and pivoted so I was face to cock with him. My cock curves toward my navel when I am really hard and this made it easier for him to swallow my entire cock. That was wonderful. His cock was hard now and was shaped like a beer can. His cock head parted the foreskin, but it didn't fully retract. Bubba was going at my cock like a dog in heat so I figured the least I could do was lick his once or twice.
I hadn't considered sucking a cock until then, but it didn't seem friendly to let Bubba do all the work. I stuck my tongue out and touched his purple cock head. Bubba moaned. Something oozed from his piss slit and touched my tongue. I had eaten out my wife once or twice and hadn't liked the fishy taste. The drop of fluid that oozed from Bubba's cock was nectar for the gods. I loved it.
I knew about erogenous zones but hadn't considered pre cum as a turn on. I was turned on big time. I suddenly couldn't get enough of Bubba's cock. I felt like Dorothy seeing the Emerald city for the first time. The world became technicolor. Vast vistas of pleasure and excitement opened up for me. Sex had been a minor part of my life for years. It moved to center stage.
I also felt a closeness to Bubba I hadn't felt in years. We weren't much more than casual friends but we trusted each other enough to let the other feed on our most private parts. I had always been uncomfortable with nudity, but Bubba was doing things to my cock I hadn't even dreamed of before. I was naked and erect. I just copied him, doing every thing he did to my cock to his. We both popped. It was great.
"Damn!" I said.
"Damn good!" Bubba replied. I watched the white cream dribble from his cock. Much to my surprise I intercepted it with my tongue. We eventually got out of bed, pulled some shorts on and I cooked dinner. While we ate, Bubba told me about Wythetown and his sex life there.
I had thought of gay men as an urban phenomenon. That isn't true. There were a few guys in Wythetown who were openly gay. They included a dance instructor and a florist. There were a number of confirmed bachelors and brothers and cousins who lived in isolated farms. There were a lot of married guys who didn't mind a trip to the wild side.
"There are several groups of guys who hang out together." Bubba said. "There's the hunting Club and the poker night guys, and the softball team. They tend to stay in their own group."
"Which group do you belong to?" I asked. Bubba laughed.
"Shit. I belong to them all." He said. "A cop needs to keep the lines of communication open." He paused. "Plus, I'm always in heat." We both laughed. Bubba said knew everyone and knew their likes and dislikes.
"It seems like there is a world of possibilities here!" I said.
"Are you open to the possibilities?" He asked. I thought for a minute.
"Is all the sex as good as with you?" I said. He blushed.
"It's not all the same but it's good, one way or another." He said. "Maybe I'm a sex pig. But I love it all."
"The more I think about it, the more open to the possibilities I seem to be." I said.
"Would you like to tag along sometime?" Bubba asked.
"I think I would. Do they mind visitors?" I asked. "I don't want to go where I'm not welcome." Bubba laughed.
"I wouldn't worry about that! They're open minded. And I do mean open minded!" he said. "They're open mouthed and open assed too. Really friendly types once they get naked and revved up." I must have looked uneasy. "Don't worry. You'll like them."