Catfish does Shakespeare 3
by Bald Hairy Man
This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that DON'T read it. You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual. No effort to portray safe sex practices has been made. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com.
The next morning I looked into the Globe Theater Project and the ill fated production of Hamlet. One of my neighbors, Bobby Wilmot, loved the theater and he kept clippings, programs and other information on local plays. When I asked him about Hamlet he got excited.
"It was the play from hell. The director was a hot shot new faculty member at UCV and this was his first play. Tony, the Director, was very avant guard and modern. I thought he was a bullshitter, but he really impressed some, especially the local drama critics. The build up for the play was massive. Several articles in the papers and segments on the television stations.
"And how was it?"
"Total disaster. The concept sounded good, but was bad on the stage. I just didn't work. Tony was demanding and treated his actors like shit. He made them bend to his will. He told them their ideas were stupid and immature, but when the play failed he blamed it on them, publicly."
"Publicly?"
"He gave an interview saying the actors were too immature to carry out his brilliant concept," Bobby said. "I've never seen anything like it. You may think that, or even say it to a few close friends, but never in public. Then there was the mugging and the hit and run."
"Are you suspicious about those events?" I asked.
"They are curious," Bobby said. "There is more that that. Ophelia tried to commit suicide. She thought Tony was in love with her. He savaged her in the newspaper."
"Did that information get out?" I asked.
"No, it was hushed up," Bobby said.
I gave him the list of the players in Midsummer Night Dream. Wilmot checked those who were associated with Hamlet. Bruce and Mark were in the company, but as spear carriers. Henry was the Stage Manager. Charlie played Polonious. Wilmot provided one unexpected bit of information. Ophelia was now Henry's wife. They had two children.
"Who paid for these two companies?"
"I don't know that, but I can find out pretty easily," he responded. Who ever backed Hamlet lost big time. It was an expensive production. Of course almost all plays lose money, but this was a total wipe out. There was considerable ill feeling in the theater community, because it soured potential donors from giving for several years."
"Was the former UCV Theater chairman Gustav Schmidt involved in the Globe Theater Project?"
"Not directly. He hired Tony of course, but the Globe Project was independent of the University," Wilmot explained."
"Where are Gustave and Tony now?"
"I don't know, but I can make inquiries," Wilmot said. "I take it you are investigating something?"
"Yes, still preliminary, so there's nothing definite," I said.
'"I will ask around. I am a well known gossip. No one will think anything of it. I'll call if I find something."
I went to my office and had my staff to a quick search on the actors and others involved I took care of some other odd and ends that had accumulated while I was rehearsing. There was no rehearsal that day, but I was to get measured for my costumes.
I met Skyler DeVille, the costume designer. To say he was gay didn't do him justice. Mega gay or Hyper gay would be closer to the truth. I'm not much into flaming queens, but Skyler was so far beyond that, he sort of took your breath away. He was hyper active and told me he designed and made the costumes with limited help. He also was fast and got his work done quickly as he chatted at a breakneck speed.
Skyler liked my hairy chest. He had a grand scheme. The lovers and courtiers were to elegant, sleek and smooth. The rude mechanicals, we rustics, were to be crude and hairy. The fairies were to be dressed in leaves, gossamer fabrics and sequins. "It's a huge cast and the audience can get confused. I want each of the groups in the play to be distinct and clearly defined," Skyler said. "Lord you are a hairy one. That will be good."
"Are all of the rustics hairy?" I asked.
"Not as hairy as you, but hairy enough," he said. "You come with most of your costume growing on your torso. It's convenient and economical."
"I'm glad to accommodate you,"
"I'm not sure what to do with the beard," Skyler mused. "How long will it take for you to grow it longer?"
"A week or two."
Skyler laughed. "You get five o'clock shadow at ten in the morning?" I nodded.
"Maurice! Come here," he yelled. A very small and very effeminate man appeared. "Maurice is the production hair dresser. We're trying to save money on wigs. We'll see what he can do."
"What in hell did the cat drag in?" Maurice asked as he gave me the once over.
"Maurice is a flaming fagot, but he has the sensitivity of a turnip," Skyler explained. "Don't take a word he says seriously. He's a pig."
"I love you too," Maurice said.
"This man presents Wall in our play," Skyler said. "Rough-cast is the phrase the Bard used."
"Rough-cast, that hardly describes him. He needs some ivy to hide the all too obvious defects," Maurice complained.
"Damn it, once and a while you say something intelligent!" Skyler said. "Fetch me some ivy, you worthless churl!" Maurice vanished and returned with a trash bag of plastic ivy.
"Would you take your shirt off,"Skyler asked. He wove the ivy into a crown and made a necklace of ivy for my chest. Five minutes later I was an ivy covered wall. Skyler was happy. "I think an ivy covered jock will complete it." I looked in the mirror and I was transformed. The effect was clever and comic.
"What about the hole, the cranny?" Maurice asked.
"Maurice has an anal fixation," Skyler declared.
"My fixation isn't enough to let this bit of Rough-cast give me a poke," Maurice said.
"Don't you believe a world of that. Maurice can't pass a fire plug without getting a hard on," Skyler proclaimed. "If it's even vaguely elongated he wants it in his ass."
My fitting was over and I left. I ran into Charlie as I left. "They are quite the pair," I remarked.
"Believe it or not, but they are both are good at what they do."
"Have there been any incidents over night?"
"No letters for several days," Charlie said. "Maybe it's over. Whoever was sending them my have gotten his jollies and has moved onto something new." As we talked the man playing Demetrius, Roland Smith, came over. He hadn't been at the rehearsals due to hid Grandmother's funeral.
Roland was tall, dark and handsome. He seemed pleasant and affable. It was hard to believe he and Skyler were the same species. Roland wanted to know what he needed to do to make up for his absence. Everything seemed normal.
The next morning they found Maurice's body at the foot of the balcony stair. He was dead. I didn't hear about it until after noon. It was treated as an accident and not a crime. There was no media coverage.
The crew was shocked. Skyler was devastated. While it was treated as an accident I didn't believe that for one minute. No one in the cast, or crew believed it either. While they bickered,incessantly Skyler and Maurice were lovers. Apparently it was a mutually agreeable master slave relationship.
The stage manager told me there was no reason for Maurice to go up the stairs he was supposed to have fallen down. "Maurice stayed in the costume shop and almost never left it. It's hard to believe he had any reason to go to the balcony." I called Bobby Wilmot to see what he knew about Skyler and Maurice.
"Skyler's a character but genuinely talented and driven. His costumes are always done on time. He was involved in the Hamlet disaster. He was fired because he wouldn't do what the director wanted."
"Isn't that his job? To do what the director wanted?" I asked.
"To a point. The costumes weren't workable," Bobby explained. "It was physically difficult for the actors to move inside them. The reviewers mentioned the wooden acting in the play. Much of that was due to the costumes."
Rather to my surprise, Skyler was a the show must go on man. He took a day off for the funeral, but that was it. Several days later he had my costume finished and I went in for a fitting. It wasn't so much as a fitting as an attaching. He had the pieces ready, but wasn't sure how to attach them to my body.
I stripped off my shirt and got down to my shorts. "I hope you aren't a really modest guy, but your going to need to take more off," Skyler said. "You need to wear my souped up jock." I took off my shorts. The jock was one step more modest than a jock. It was covered in ivy, but lined in silk. Next came grassy boots. They had vines that went up my legs and attached to the jock.
One of he vines was actually a suspender that kept the jock from sagging under the weight of the ivy. The crown from my first fitting was now greatly embellished and had birds in it. There were buttons in the jock to make the birds sing. The whole contraption was pretty cool. He told me to walk. Several things poked me, so he adjusted them.
Throughout the entire fitting, Skyler never copped a feel or fondled my equipment. I was shocked. I went to a rehearsal of the Pyramis and Thisbe play after the fitting. This was more of a costume run through. Dress rehearsal was weeks away, but Charlie and Skyler wanted to make sure the unusual costumes worked. It was spectacular. The collection of hairy rustics struck just the right tone for the farce. We had to stop a few times the crew was laughing so hard.
Fred is a hairy Polar Bear. He was wearing a kilt, big horsehair Classical Greek helmet and armor. The armor was made of tortoise shells unconvincingly tied together. Robert, who played Thisbe was in a grass skirt with squash gourd breasts. The costumes were imaginative, funny and oddly attractive.
Afterwards in the dressing room, it took a while to undress me and then no one there missed the opportunity to cop a feel or make a comment. It sounds stupid, but I was relieved my cock hadn't lost it's magic. Even Robert was interested. I've always said there's a world of difference between a red neck and a big dicked red neck.
As I left Skyler came up to me. "Would you like to get together and have a glass of wine?"
"I need to get something to eat," I said.
"Well I can solve that problem," Skyler said. "Follow me, my apartment's just around the corner. I will whip up something fast and good."
His apartment was very nice. It looked like something you'd find in a fancy magazine. He also made a good dinner. He broiled two steaks and made a salad. Skyler was all business while he cooked, but we talked about the play during dinner. The conversation turned to the poison pen letter afterwards.
"I assume you are investigating the letters," he said. "You aren't fooled by Maurice's death are you?"
"It doesn't smell good," I said. "Murder seems extreme."
"You're right about that. I thought it was a bitter hyper-sensitive artistic type who was nasty," Skyler said. "Nasty is one thing; murder is another."
"Did Maurice have enemies?"
"Maurice was harmless. He had spats. No one paid any attention to him, except for me, of course," he said.
"You had spats too?"
"That was a game. Maurice had what we would now call an esteem problem. He insulted people before they had a chance to insult him," Skyler said. "Verbal abuse turned him on. It was a quirk. We would fight all day and I'd fuck him silly all night. It was a satisfactory arrangement for both of us. He was a size queen. I was the biggest man he had met. He thought he had died and gone to heaven when I fucked him the first time."
"He was a good bottom?"
"You must know what it's like when you find someone who can take your cock and enjoy it. He just loved it," Skyler said. "If he knew you were hung, he'd have loved you. I promised him if I ever ran into a guy who is bigger then me I'd bring him home. I discovered you a few days too late."
"I wasn't his type."
"I hate to sound tacky, but your cock is his type."
I laughed. "I've run into that a few times before. I don't mind curiosity. You were good doing the fitting. You don't mix business and pleasure?"
"Genitals and costume design are a bad combination," Skyler said. "It's unethical. Actors can get really jumpy if they think you're going to jump them."
I smiled. "You're right about that."
"Through the grapevine I've heard you aren't opposed to a little show and tell," Skyler said.
"You heard wrong. I never tell."
"If I changed it to a show and taste would it be more correct?" Skyler asked. I began to unbutton my shirt.
It was hard to believe how fast Skyler stripped. One minute he was dressed, the next minute he was nude. I had no idea what he would look like naked. He was tall, slim and quite muscular. He looked liked a swimmer, or a dancer. He was shaved, except for his bush and genitals. They were natural. He had blond hair on his head, but his pubes were black. His skin was pale, but healthy looking. His large pink tits and cock head provided the only color. The head was pinkish purple. The cock itself was seven or eight inches long in a relaxed state.
He was attractive and masculine, or as masculine as a man as elegant as he could be. The only discordant aspect of his body was his balls. Skyler had Godzilla's balls. They were huge and contained in a hairy, low hanging sack. I guessed his cock was longer than mine, but I was thicker. I wouldn't know until he got hard.
I cupped them in my hand. "Pretty," I said. "You have the meat and potatoes."
Skyler smiled. "I like smooth men,"he said, "but I could never get a razor near my family jewels. Maurice wanted me to shave my bush, but I wouldn't do it."
"He was smaller than I am. Did he have any problem taking it?" I asked as I stroked his cock. A bead of precum emerged from the slit. Touched it with my finger and spread it over his knob.
"He said it was hard to take, but he always came back," Skyler said. He had peeled my foreskin back to expose my head. "Can I lick it?" he asked.
"Sure," I said. "I leak a lot. Do you like cock juices?"
"Maurice drooled like a leaky faucet," he said as took my cock into his mouth. Skyler weeped as he licked and sucked my cock. My cock drool seemed to being back memories of his late lover. No one had talked to him about Maurice beyond the normal conventional condolences. Sex was at the core of their friendship and no one talked about that and how much he had lost.
I asked him if Maurice had a tight hole, and did it open and relax as the night wore on. Then I asked if he shot his load in the ass or down his throat. Skyler wanted to talk.
"He loved it in the ass," Skyler reminisced, "He was totally passive. If I had a friend over we'd both fuck him. He'd beg until he got you up his ass. We went to a party once where everyone took there turn. When we got home, I fucked him again. It was like churning butter. Have you ever used your pals' cum as lubricant?"
"A few times," I said. "Sperm is good lube. It may sound funny, but it was a turn on when I knew my pals made it in their balls. Call me a romantic."
Skyler laughed. "I felt the same way. It's messy, but exciting. By the way, your cock drool is tasty."
"Thanks. Good sex can be messy. That doesn't bother me much. I don't need to look my best to have a good time," I said. We got on his bed so we could sixty-nine. He must have been 12 inches. His cock was meaty, but I was able to deep throat him. I must have suctioned a pint of precum from his balls as I pulled back.
"I hate mess. I'm too much of a control freak," he said. "Could you do that again? It was great."
I felt a bit like a suckling pig on a spit, but I did it again. He tried to do the same, but I was too thick. He did do his best and I appreciated the effort. I deep throated him again and this time I smelled the aroma of lubricant coming from his hole.
I got my finger at his ass hole and played with his slippery sphincter. "Were you expecting company?" I asked.
"I don't know what I was expecting," Skyler said. He may not have been expecting, but he had a hope. Skyler didn't know he was a bottom for another fifteen minutes. It took that long to get in. He had lots of lube and poppers to easy the way. Once I was in, I took the poppers and I fucked him silly.