Catfish Returns- Beauty and the Beast
By Bald Hairy Man
This is a sexual fantasy with no effort made at real life experiences. If you object to gay fiction, DO NOT READ. This story is not for you. If you have any comments, send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com. Catfish's earlier life is covered in Young Catfish, Play Pen and Millennium Construction Company.
Mom said, I was cute when I was a baby. I think she was thinking about a six month period somewhere between my first and second birthday. Whenever it was, I sure can't remember anytime anyone thought I was cute.
I was scrawny until I was 12 or 13, then I became scrawny and hairy. I needed to shave daily by the time I was 14. My voice had dropped an octave below Sam Elliot's by then. I was a strapping 5'-4" and 125 pounds. My gym teacher said, a quarter of my weight was in hair, another quarter in cock. In case you don't get the drift, that didn't leave much left over for actual body.
I wasn't a dreamboat as a teenager and now that I'm nearing fifty, I'm not any more attractive. I am a nice guy. I have my own security agency in Richmond, Virginia. I had to admit, I felt pretty good about life. My company was doing great, I had lots of friends and I was feeling good about myself. The first 45 years of my life weren't spectacular. My mom was happy with me just making a living. Some of my teachers in school would have been pleased that I just stayed out of jail.
An odd thing happened at Catfish & Company. As we grew I became the guy who took the odd, or difficult problems. When as I was a cop, my specialty was purse-snatchers and I was known as a "Red-neck" guy who had a knack for apprehending low life. After the big bombing, I moved up in the world. I worked behind the scenes and didn't get any publicity. That was fine with me.
We specialized in handling nasty jobs for other Security agencies. Most of them provide night watchmen, or Mall cops and they aren't well equipped to deal with serious problems. If they had a serial rapist at a Mall parking lot, they'd hire us. We also work for civic organizations and arts groups who have problems in a neighborhood or a purse-snatcher attacking patrons of the Opera or Ballet. We handle those problems quietly, discretely and effectively.
I'm gay and most of my agency is gay. We were the guys rejected by the police because of our sexual likes. Being a good Police Man or Investigator is considered no good if you suck cock, rather than fuck cunt in the real world.
I've never gotten much into the gay scene in Richmond. I've got a job that typically fills up a good 60 to 80 hours a week with strange hours. I can't go to the bars every night, or go dancing until the dawn. I dropped into the Casa Loma Club once for a beer. The Casa Loma is the "in" Gay bar. I was twenty years older than anyone there and suspected I was the only one there who had to shave more than once a week.
I don't mind twinks or femmes, different strokes for different folks I say, but they sure seemed to mind me. No one sat within a ten foot radius of me. I think they were afraid they might catch something. One guy a booth or two away loudly complained that the management was letting old guys in.
I left. Being young is well and good, but you can't stay young. No one can. It seems to me you are setting yourself up for a bumpy ride, if you are counting on remaining young forever. The guys who try, have a desperate look I find unattractive. It's difficult to understand gay men who find masculine men ugly. I know there are a lot of them, but it is a puzzling attitude.
Being bald, bearded, hairy with a deep voice and having a nine-inch cock qualifies me as a man, in spite of my size. I don't find effeminate men attractive, but I don't insult them and I usually don't throw them out of bed when one falls my way. I like bears, but a steady diet of bear meat could get boring. My first introduction to the world of twink gays came unexpectedly one afternoon.
My friend John called me.
"Catfish, I've got a business partner who needs some help." John said. John helped set me up in my business and had been a good friend for years. I told him, I was glad to help any friend of his.
"It's not quite that simple." John explained. "This is a business partner who, quite frankly, I don't think of as a friend. I'm not sure I would want him as a friend. He's not my type, socially or politically."
"Is he a jerk?" I asked.
"Not really." John said. "Not all the time at least. I just don't agree with anything he stands for. He needs help. His wife was my late wife's cousin. She's a sweet woman, as nice as she can be. Could you come over here and meet with him in an hour or so?"
"He can't come here?" I asked.
"He doesn't want to be seen going into a detective agency." John said. "Hypersensitive." I agreed and an hour later I was in John's living room meeting with Barton Smith, Senator Barton Smith. The Senator was a pillar of the more conservative portion of the Republican Party, resolutely opposed to any progressive measures aimed at improving the quality of life in Virginia.
Barton looked good. He wore and expensive suit, every hair was in place and he had a photogenic jaw, ideal for campaign posters. He was a handsome man, and you immediately sensed he knew it.
Barton didn't shake my hand as I entered. He got two strikes against him with that. "This has to be kept absolutely quiet." he said "Absolute discretion." . "That's my job. That's why people hire us." I said. "What's your problem?"
"I can tell you some of it." he said.
"No, your going to tell me all of it, or our meeting is over." I said. "There is no way in Hell I'm going to start an investigation knowing "some" of it." He looked at me for a minute, looking pissed.
"I guess you're right." the Senator said. "I'm being blackmailed. It's not exactly for cash. I'm being pressured to send state contracts to the blackmailer. That and give him the names of friends and associates he might be able to serve."
"What kind of serving are we talking about?" I asked.
"Officially stock broker services." Barton said. I knew there was another form of services involved.
"And unofficially?" I asked, having no intention of letting the guy off the hook.
"Sex."
"With whom?"
"The broker."
"The broker is a he?"
"Yes."
"Okay. That clarifies it somewhat." I said. "What's the scam? The hook?"
"The broker is Wilton Manley, he's a young guy. He went to school with my oldest son. Very clean cut, personable, attractive." Barton explained.
"He seemed safe?"
"Yes, he seemed safe." the Senator explained. He sounded disgusted at himself. "He was a member of several athletic and fitness clubs as well as the Country Club and the Jamestowne Club. He met guys in the locker and steam rooms. They got together at his apartment. Several opened up accounts with him to provide an excuse to see him."
"Is this how you met him?"
"No, a friend gave me his name." Barton replied. "He told me, it was safe and very discrete. No need to worry. My friend said, he liked older men and was very accommodating."
"Did he take pictures?" I asked.
"Oh shit, I hadn't thought about that!" the Senator said, as a look of total panic gripped him.
"If he hasn't brought that up yet, I doubt he has them." I said. "So far you are talking about a clever marketing scheme."
"Well he was working for one of the big brokerage houses. Now he's started his own firm, QED Enterprises." Barton said. "I'm on the Commission for Corporations. I checked up on it. QED Enterprises doesn't exist there. It has no assets and there apparently is no real money in its accounts. It doesn't exist."
"Where are your investments with him?" I asked.
"In Wilton Manley's pocket I assume." Barton responded. "It turned out he left the respectable brokerage house a year earlier than he claimed. Apparently he's been pocketing it all. He must have spent it all and now needs more money. Wilton wants me to give him the names of more potential clients. I told him, I couldn't do that. He told me, I'd be sorry. I have a really bad feeling about this. I'm afraid there's a lot more going on than I know."
"Sounds like a nice guy!"
"I need to find out how bad it is. The political implications are incredible."
"Are all his clients conservative Republicans?" I asked.
"Not all, but most." Barton said.
"A homosexual affair would hurt your career?" I asked. Barton turned white. Total panic. I told him, I would try to help him.
"If you know of anyone else involved, have him come by and talk to me. I'd like to get some more leads." I said. He said, he would try.
I wasn't sure how to proceed. I have to admit my connections to upper class Republicans weren't as good as they might be. I went to see John in his second floor apartment after Barton left. John had connections in the business world.
"Before my wife died I knew them all." he said. "I've lost most of my social connections since then. Once you are no longer regarded as a catch for a widow, interest drops off dramatically. I know where Barton's coming from. He's intelligent, but limited. There are a number of men like him, who never left the farm."
"He didn't look like a farm type to me." I said.
"Today it's the sub division. In the West End, there are guys who went to Archangel School, went to UVA, then returned to Richmond to work for Daddy's company. Technically, they are well educated and well traveled. They've been to Europe and Vail, but they've never associated with anyone outside of their class. They made friends in kindergarten and have stayed in the same social set." John said. "Limited and damn proud of it."
John didn't know much about the situation, but he knew someone who did. He called his friend, Magnus. Magnus was made of money and moved his the wealthiest tiers of Richmond's society. Much to my surprise, Magnus wanted to come over. When he arrived I told him the story.
"It all makes sense to me." Magnus said. "Did you know Edward Jannet?"
"No, but the name sounds slightly familiar." I said.
"Did I see his name in the paper a few weeks ago?" John asked.
"Yes. He was a friend of mine. Gay, but deeply closeted." Magnus said. "He had a taste for young men. As you know, that's a taste I don't share. He was very wealthy, slightly effete and prissy and married to Sonia Elverson. Sonia was the heiress to a chemical fortune."
"He killed himself! I remember now." John said. "A month and a half ago, didn't he?"
"Yes, he was a big time contributor to the Republican Party and conservative causes in general." Magnus said. "He was publicly anti-gay, he felt it gave him some protection. I can understand being in the closet, Lord knows I spent enough time in there, but it seemed to me Edward went over the line. Anyway he took an overdose. He left a note saying, he wouldn't betray any more of his friends. No one knew what he was talking about."
"Edward liked young men who he could "help with their careers". They were his personal assistants, or talented boys who needed a break." Magnus said. "This story you told would explain it."
"There is nothing to connect him to the Senator's story." I said. "It could be a coincidence."
"There is one other thing. A week before he died, he made an appointment for me to meet a new financial advisor. He told me I might like the young man." Magnus said.
"Did you meet?" John asked.
"No. Edward cancelled the meeting." Magnus said. "It was a voice mail message. He said his friend wasn't what he thought he was. Edward didn't sound happy."
"How do we get into this?" I asked. "Pretty boys and big time politicos aren't my thing."
"I have an idea, but it may take a call or two to work it out." Magnus answered. He went to the phone.
Magus returned. "If you don't mind, a friend of mine is coming over. Do you know Colin Randallson?"
"The art collector?" John asked.
"That's him. He lives on Monument Avenue in the big Tudor house." Magnus explained. "He was a good friend of Edward's. He may be able to help, Colin was very disturbed by the suicide." The doorbell rang. It was Colin.
Colin Randallson was a distinguished looking man of perhaps 70. He was tall and lanky, with a carefully trimmed beard. He looked like a Victorian Country Gentleman. He also dressed that way. When he opened his mouth, I understood why. He was English. Magnus introduced us.
"Catfish, Pleased to meet you." he said. "You found the bomber! A great piece of work."
"I had lots of help." I said.
"You don't need to be falsely modest. I know the full story." Colin said. "Tell me about this mystery. How does it involve Edward's death?" I explained the scam. Magus told Colin about his suspicions about the suicide.
"That does make some sense. It could explain it." Colin said. "We were to go to Europe to an auction in London in April. He wasn't thinking about killing himself then."
"Do you know the young man in the case?" I asked.
"I don't, but I know who he is. I go to the Jamestowne Club in the morning. He was never there then, but on the few times I have been there in the late afternoon he was hanging around." Colin said. "He has always been with older men."
Is there anyway for me to get an operative in there?" I asked.
"Not quickly. Most new members of the Club are sons, or grandsons of members." Colin said.
"As I recall the application fee is $100,000.00." Magnus added.
"But I have been thinking," Colin said, "I might go there later this week and see what happens. If your suspicions are correct, I have all the qualifications needed to attract this leech."
"I'm not too sure about that." I said. "Where there is crime, even white collar crime, there is danger. Can we get someone in there as part of the staff?"
"Quite frankly, I'm not too worried about the potential danger. I'm getting on in years. But I can get someone into the club as staff. I'll serve as the bait if you'll provide a fisherman to haul the catch in." Colin said.
"It's a deal." I said.
"I'm not much attracted to smooth boys, but I can make the sacrifice." Colin said, sounding like a martyr. I looked at him and realized he was joking.
"What does attract you?" I asked. "Short, hairy, horse hung detectives maybe?" Colin laughed.
"I don't want to offend, but short and hairy aren't my thing." Colin replied. He paused and slowly said, "Horse hung is a different matter altogether."
"I guess you would like a third of me, then?" I said. Everyone laughed.
"If it's a third of you, I'd really like it!" Colin said. The doorbell rang. It was Larry, the artist who lived next door. John introduced him to Colin. Larry knew Magnus and me well.
"I had just got my hot tub working again after the engine burned out last month." Larry said. "I was going to ask you over for a re-christening, but since you have company, I'll give a rain check."
"Don't miss out on the fun on my account," Colin said. "I'm leaving anyway."
"You're free to join us, if you'd like." Larry replied. "It big enough for all of us."
"No swimming trunks." Colin muttered. "I'd better be going."
"No one's ever worn trunks into my tub yet. We're a friendly group of guys here. I guess you could say the dress code is informal." Colin perked up. He was interested.
"Let's go then!" Magnus exclaimed. We all trooped next door and over to the tub. It was a six- man tub sitting in a stained glass green house added to the rear of Larry's house. It was bright and sun lit, but you couldn't be seen from the outside. I stripped and got into the tub.
This place is incredible," Colin observed as he slowly undressed. "Who did the beautiful paintings in the living room? They're stunning."
"I did." Larry said. "I've been making a living renovating houses, so I've been keeping my paintings to myself for the last ten or twelve years." Larry was handsome, muscular and had beautifully formed genitals. He had a perfect cock and balls. The paintings weren't the only things in the house Colin admired.
We talked and Colin turned out to be a nice guy. He was interested in everything, funny and entertaining. I was getting hot, so I sat on the edge of the tub to cool off.
"Damn, when you said you were horse hung, you weren't kidding!" Colin cried. "It doesn't look real."
"It's real enough, Colin." Magnus said. "And if exercise can make a cock bigger, Catfish has done his bit to maintain it!"
"I would have said "Bullhead" rather than Catfish, I think." Colin added. "I've never seen such an impressive tool on such an ugly man."
"I like you too." I said.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Colin said, genuinely shocked. "I didn't know what I said, believe me, I'm never that rude! It's just the contrast. There is so much cock and so little of you!" I laughed. We all had a nice conversation. Magnus had to leave.
When Colin left it had started to rain. He had walked over, so I offered to drive him home.
"I hope you don't think I am a complete fool after what I said to you." he apologized again. "I have heard nothing but the most glowing reports about you from my friends."
"Forget it." I said. "To tell you the truth, a lot of guys change their opinions about me when they see my cock. If I could leave it hanging out, I'd be a real popular guy!"
"That you would." Colin said. "You aren't a physical type that attracts me, but I am a size queen."
"You are torn between opposite desires. I know the feeling." I observed. "I'm not attracted to smooth men, but I do make the sacrifice, sometimes."
"I know the feeling." Colin admitted. "Are you a top?"
"I sure am." I said as I looked at Colin. I could tell that was what he wanted to hear. Five minutes later we were in his bedroom and I was lubricating my cock. My head was at his hole and I was applying some pressure.
His ass was more like a mouth with lips that caressed my cock head. There was absolutely no resistance. I took it slow to enjoy the ride. Colin could do more with his ass than some guys could do with their mouth. There was no resistance, but his tunnel lining was bonded to my cock.
Colin's ass was a full-fledged sex organ and I was the organ grinder.
"Are you in all the way?" he asked.
"You got another three or four inches." I said. "Do you want me to stop?"
"Shit no!" was the decisive answer. I shoved the last few inches in Colin's quivering ass, he almost fainted in pleasure.