The Detective 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 or bldhrymn@aol.com
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Sherlock was a difficult man to befriend. He was stunningly self-centered and he tended to ignore friends and acquaintances. He was exceedingly methodical and obsessive when he was engaged in a case. He was concerned about me only when we were sexually coupled.
While I provided deeply satisfactory sexual release for him, he was prone to become involved with unsatisfactory playmates. If I were away, Sherlock would wander the streets looking for men. This was usually late at night when it was dark.
Let me confess, at first my attachment to him was largely sexual. Sex with him was a different order of magnitude that with any other man. When I first knew him, I told myself that each time I connected with him would be the last time. It took a year to realize that wasn't going to happen. The sex was compelling.
It took me that long to realize he was a great man with great flaws. He was brilliant and gifted. Most of the time he was entirely in control of his mighty intellect. His superb skills as an investigator were second to none. Most people never meet a genius of Sherlock's magnitude. I am a man of above average intelligence and aptitude. I came to realize that helping him would be the most I could do to help humanity.
In some ways, my wounds prepared me for living with Sherlock. I had been though much worse than a slighting comment or insensitive remark. This tendency toward tolerating his slights was reinforced by his sexual skills and his near total lack of jealousy. I had enjoyable connections with men before and during my time with Sherlock. That did not bother him at all. He and I were free agents.
He could direct his brilliant mind to finding ways to intensify the sexual experience. Given his general self-centered [BW1]approach to life, he recognized that I was necessary for him to achieve the heights of ecstasy he craved. My general anatomy and my genitals in particular were essential for his pleasure. He was experienced sexually with men and women, but he knew I was necessary to achieve his deepest sexual fulfillment.
When he was engaged in a case or investigation he had no need for men, or for any other persons. A puzzle could drive any other thoughts from his mind. While he discarded me, he also neglected eating and sleeping. I felt slightly pleased that I was one of the necessities of life he could do without.
I had known him for six months when he began working on case for the Maharaja of Pandur. Pandur is a minor princely state between Bombay and Delhi. It is half Hindu and half Sikh. The Maharaja possessed a sacred Lingam that united the state and suppressed the rivalries and violence that sometimes afflicted Indian states. The lingam, a stone in the form of a penis, had been stolen by British soldiers or adventurers and was believed to be in London.
Sherlock was to find the stone and return it to Pandur. The stone was normally hidden in a temple and put on view only at the winter solstice. Sherlock got the case in early October. The situation was the sort that Sherlock liked.
There had been no ransom demand, nor had the lingam appeared on the market. Sherlock seemed to be exceptionally well informed on the subject of sacred lingams, and he knew there was a market for them. Until this case, I had no idea lingams existed, not alone that there was a market for them. Obscure knowledge was a major interest of Sherlock, and he associated with men who collected such information the way some men collect stamps.
He also associated with a group of men he called the Irregulars. They were handsome young men of open minded sexuality, who combined effete sensibilities with shallow knowledge. I found them unattractive, although they were considered to be handsome by most. Most were shallow, superficial and close to being blithering idiots. That was their secret weapon.
No one suspected these idiot fops with any ulterior motives. Thye could asked stupid questions and be regarded as gossips. Most tended to be waiters, footmen and barbers. Some Irregulars were gentlemen who spent their time in clubs. Most of these men became members because their fathers or grandfathers had been members. They moved in fashionable circles. They talked, or more properly babbled continuously. They reminded me of little mice. Thye were everywhere, but no one noticed.
There was a problem prying the information from the fops' minuscule brains. Sherlock used his sexual skills to work the information out of them. I did not approve of them; it seemed to me that they were beneath his dignity. He found them attractive, amusing and useful.
Sherlock decided the lingam was either in a collector's secret museum, or in a soldier's back yard garden. Sherlock had connections in the India office. He found out what regiments were stationed in Pandur and which had returned to Britain. He was particularly interested in regiments with a record of poor discipline.
He soon focused on a regiment of engineers. Their commander died a month after arrival in India. There had been an incident of civil unrest at the time and the commanding General was too busy with more pressing matters to worry about the leadership for a regiment of engineers. A temporary and unsuitable officer stayed in charge of the regiment for the rest of their deployment. The lingam had a weight of 200-300 pounds and moving it was no simple matter. This would not have been a problem for the engineers.
Sherlock also investigated private "collectors" assuming that the lingam might not have been stolen by drunken engineers. The lingam would be very expensive, thus he was interested in wealthy men. Sherlock and I visited the British Museum and met with one of Mycroft's friends, a man called Goodhue King-Smyth. Mycroft moved in circles even stranger than Sherlock's. Seconds after I met Goodhue I realized his eccentricities made Sherlock seem like a regular bloke. He had a vast, copper colored, mutton-chop beard, blue eyes and dressed as a dandy.
He was an orientalist, and was obsessed by India. Goodhue knew Mycroft, but not Sherlock. He spoke carefully and was not particularly forth coming. He was one of those men who thought knowledge was precious and that it should not be wasted on lesser men, he had to know Sherlock before the talked openly. Sherlock explained the problem in Pandur and the potential for communal violence if the lingam was not in place on the solstice. I had been surprised that Sherlock had asked me come along the meet Goodhue. I later found out that while Sherlock had a taste for elegant young mem, he knew that Goodhue preferred the opposite. He liked men who were hardier.
As a battle-hardened and wounded veteran, I was the sort of man Goodhue found attractive. He asked us to dine with him. Sherlock said he was occupied, but that I was free. At the time, I did not realize that I was a sexual offering to Goodhue. I wasn't that interested in dinner with him, but it would have been rude to reject the invitation,
Goodhue lived near the museum in an ordinary house. Inside the front door, the place was an oriental fantasy on Indian themes. His servant, Mr. Singh, served us drinks and he had prepared an excellent Indian style dinner. The conversation focused on Lingams and the role of the penis in eastern religion. It was interesting and academic. Like with Sherlock, a conversation with Goodhue was mostly listening. We drank quite a bit of very fine wine.
"I have to admit that my interest in symbolic cocks is much less than my interest in the flesh and blood organ," I said during a brief lull in the conversation. "That was especially the case after I matured and understood the full potential of the penis." When I said that I knew I had drunk far more than I should have.
"That is very much the same for me," Goodhue replied. "When I was younger, I labored under the impression that the cock was primarily a drain. It was rather a shock when I discover it had another function. My family was loving and affectionate, but they suffered from a serious case of Methodism. The sexual use of the penis was never mentioned. It is at the core of human reproduction, but that subject did not arise. I had private tutors who were of a puritanical bent. I was stunningly unaware."
"I have never used it for reproductive purposes, but I did discover some recreational uses," I said. "I was shocked to discover it was called the solitary vice. It never seemed like a vice to me."
"There is an easy way to avoid the solitary vice," Goodhue said in a whisper. "It is very exciting when you do it with a friend."
I smiled. "I had a slightly older friend who showed me how to do it," I said. "When I was in the army, I served under a Sergeant-Major who had done a thorough exploration of the ways men can enjoy themselves. I was a willing student."
"I wish I had known someone like that," Goodhue said. "I would have been a willing student too." We understood each other and a few minutes later, we were naked in his bedroom. My body is both hairy and scarred, but that didn't bother Goodhue. My wounds just increased his desire for me. He was quite smooth and it looked as if it had never seen sunlight, but his well-formed, manly equipment was above average size.
I would not say he was unexperienced, but I think he had never been with a man who admitted he enjoyed it as much as I did. One cannot accidentally suck a cock, but some men pretended that was the case. They pretend there was a cock nearby and it just happened to end up in in their mouth. I admitted I enjoyed man sex. That was new to Goodhue and it excited him. Excited is the wrong world. He was much more comfortable with a man how admitted he liked sex and wanted sex with him.
Goodhue was exceedingly careful about my injuries. He was interested in my genitals and he didn't disturb or stress the rest of my battered body. He was gentle. After the conversation about the sacred lingam, his approach was properly reverential. He did not suck me off; he massaged my cock with his lips and tongue. This was stimulating and exciting for me. My genitals produce sexual fluid as soon as it is stimulated. Some men complained that I drooled like a leaky faucet. The Sergeant-Major by contrast considered it an attractive feature. He liked to milk me.
Goodhue was not use to having his sexual partners respond to his attentions until the orgasm. He loved my drooling member. In his mind, the cock was a sacred organ at the core of human existence. That the divine organ responded to his worshipful ministrations excited him greatly.
When I sucked his member, I think he was surprised. He would have been quite happy sucking me without reciprocation. I overtly enjoyed is organ. His foreskin was extra-long and covered his bulbous cock head even when erect. This I found quite stimulating. He was very clean but there was a considerable accumulation of sex juices. I think he had been oozing since he met me. I was flattered. I found out he had never sucked as he was sucking.
Goodhue was a fastidious man and his drooling cock was a concern to him. He hated a mess. As I savored his drool in my mouth, he relaxed and was able to savor my own juices. He was reserved, but I knew that reserve does not apply to a cock. He relaxed when his discovered I enjoyed as much as he did. He could let things flow without embarrassment.
Fifteen minutes later, he was more surprised when I sat on his cock. He had been the passive recipient of his partners' cock, but he had never experience the feeling of his own cock in a tight and welcoming ass. Both Sherlock and Goodhue found my ass particularly appealing. Sitting on it, I was in control and could play with it.
Goodhue looked delicate and seemed timid and effete. I am quite the opposite and he liked that. He was very much a man, but his mannerisms seemed effeminate. That I enjoyed the same sexual activities as he did excited him. He wanted to be with a true, battle tested man. I was both manly and enjoyed man sex.
He shot off in my ass as I sat on him. Later that night I vigorously fucked him doggy style and seeded him. I think my cock was a bit large for his ass. He winced a few times, but begged me to go deeper. He loved it. Goodhue loved both my cock and wanted my load in his ass. He felt me ejaculate and that induced him to climax.
I spent the night with him, although I did not get much sleep. He could not do enough for me and I couldn't do enough for him. We were mutually insatiable. He sucked me to a climax and then ate my seed as it spurted. Goodhue was not just taking my load, he was having communion. He asked me to fuck him again the next morning and deposit my seed as deep in him as possible. I was able to do that, he told me that knowing my seed was deep in his ass excited him.
A few days later Goodhue gave Sherlock several leads as to possible collectors. Sherlock had offered me as a sexual present to Goodhue. Goodhue appreciated that. Once Sherlock had names, he dispatched his Irregulars to investigate them. He had a huge array of friends and contacts. The irregulars were social butterflies who knew everyone it seemed.
Goodhue and I became quite attached. We became friend and sexual intimates. We were not lovers in a conventional sense. He admired me, but loved my genitals. He craved my sexual fluids and especially my sperm. Oddly, he was not interested in just anyone's sperm. A wounded soldier's sperm excited him greatly. It seemed to enhance his sense of worth. I think he thought it made him manlier.
Sherlock had a second task for me. Men from London made up most of the Engineering regiment that had been stationed in Pandur. A pub in the East End of London, The George, served as a meeting place for them. The industrial East End with all of its factories and mills provided many jobs for engineers.
Sherlock asked me to visit the pub since I was a former military man and fit in with the men more than he. Sherlock did not have the common touch and his attitude toward ordinary men was often borderline offensive. I would say the pub was of the middling sort. It was not elegant or pretentious at all, but it wasn't the unsavory dive one associated with East End establishments.
By that time, I was quite use to my limp and other physical problems and I ignored them. I forgot how pronounced they were. The men at the George immediately knew I was wounded soldier and were sympathetic. I soon got along well with them. Anyone who had served in India had stories of that exotic place.
I made some friends and drinking partners quickly. Among these was a Sergeant Major. They are a recognizable type and tend to have similar personalities. They know their men well, an often run the regiment. A sensible officer leave most of the day-to-day operation to him and trust his judgment.
Raleigh Dudley was a bluff, hearty and demanding man. That was standard issue for a Sergeant Major. I mentioned my former friend in my own regiment. They knew each other. I said I was close to him as a medical officer.
"How close?" he asked. I told him it was very close. He winked at me. We understood each other. A day later he took me home to his small house. I pretended that I had too much to drink. We both knew what we wanted. It was in a dismal neighborhood, but his house was neat, clean and pleasant.
Most men of his rank want to fuck. It was problematic for him to take the cock of a man of inferior rank. Now that he was out of the army, he wanted it in the ass. Raleigh liked a slow anal massage. It took some effort on my part to slow down, but I managed and it was pleasant. He tended to purr as I slowly massaged his innards. I discovered if I pulled on of his legs up it shifted his prostate. I made a direct hit and Raleigh moaned.
He was experienced sexually, but as a top man, not a bottom. I was good at both. I tend to be analytic once the initial burst of excitement diminishes. I liked to explore my partner and discover what excites him most.
I soon discovered his prostate and found that rubbing my knob against it excited him greatly. After a while, he begged me to stop. I didn't think he was sincere. When I finally stopped, I quickly changed positions and sucked his cock. He was ripe and soon I took his load. It was impressive for a man of his age. His cock was good, but his balls deserved to be displayed in the Crystal Palace. We talked between sexual bouts.
Raleigh had a hard time saying anything negative about an officer. He towed the official Army line even in retirement. He had a friend, Nigel, who had been the company clerk. Raleigh told me that Nigel like to bottom and he liked a little variety. He wanted me to meet his friend.
I think Nigel would have been his lover if Raleigh allowed himself to think that way. Raleigh recruited playmates for him. We connected. While Raleigh towed the company line, Nigel talked nonstop. Nigel was a small, slight man and he had been regularly fucked by Raleigh for twenty years. Raleigh's cock is shaped like a large caliber canon, and Nigel's ass was not tight at all. I tried fucking him and then decided to sit on Nigel's modest member.
It was thin, and not very long. It was also hard as steel and long enough to give my prostate a good work out. My ass is nice and tight and Nigel loved it. I felt him squirting soon after I sat on it, but he didn't go soft. He liked to talk as I used my ass to massage his tool. His former commander, Captain Fitz Martin, was a slacker who combined a fixation with minor details with a near total inability to lead. He was jealous of his position and would not allow other officers to fill in the gaps.
He told me that one group in the regiment was obsessed with finding treasure. They were looking for the sort of treasure that plays a role in novels, such as ruby encrusted idols. The ringleader was a Corporal Billings. He was told about the lingam and went hunting for it and assumed it was made of some precious materials. That was all that Nigel knew.
When I gave the information to Sherlock he had already ruled out the collectors. He needed a new lead. I was surprised at the speed at which worked.