The Inheritance 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 winarch47@yahoo.com
I assume all of London sighed in relief when her maid discovered Lady Bracknell's cold body. Lady Bracknell had terrorized the city, and indeed most of England for a generation. Her tool of choice was not an Anarchist's bomb or an assassin's bullet. She used weddings as her weapon. She had an incredible skill at arranging society weddings between attractive wealthy women and noblemen who needed to restore fading family fortunes.
They were often successful pairings from a genealogical and financial point of view. They were disastrous to the parties involved. Alcoholism, drug addiction and several suicides marked the marriages. Divorces and public scandal were common.
In all fairness, there were other contributing factors. A wealthy industrialist might want to marry his daughter to a title; noblemen were often in dire financial straits. Lady Bracknell's skill was in connecting entirely two unsuitable persons to form one unhappy couple.
I did not escape her attentions. I am Jonathan De Forest and I married Ella Mayberry, the heiress of a well-known Methodist mill owner. Her interest was in missionary work. My interests did not include women. She had a positive dread of sexual contact and soon moved to India with a slightly suspect Methodist Bishop.
I managed her financial affairs and her fortune. Her father had founded several orphanages and hospitals for the poor. Unexpectedly I discovered a skill for management, and a special skill for exposing religious charlatans. I found that the food costs for an orphanage were unrelated to the food served to the obviously mal-nourished orphans. I noted that the director of the institution was pocketing the funds. He was in no way malnourished. I soon had a reputation for sound management. That was a euphemism for uncovering embezzlement. My wife's father rewarded me greatly for my services.
When Ella left for India, she took all of the female staff of my house. She wanted to have English servants in her home. I hired an all-male staff, that suited me well.
While my tastes did not include women, my tastes did not include young boys or handsome but delicate aristocrats either. I preferred fully developed men, hard-working and a bit muscular. My valet, Richard, knew my tastes and helped me fill out my household staff.
I was in Scotland, working with a particularly mismanaged home for boys when I received a telegram informing me of Lady Bracknell's death. I returned to London on the next train. I took a cab to her house in Chelsea. Two constables greeted me at the door. The telegram told me she was dead. They did not mention she had been murdered.
I met with a short, stocky Inspector, George Wright, who gave me details. She had been poisoned two days earlier. That shocked me. I wasn't entirely shocked that she had been murdered, but I expected to find that she would have been strangled in a fit of rage by one of her unhappy pairings. She had a special way of clothing rude and insulting comments under a veneer of pretentions politeness. I had assumed that one or two people wanted to kill her during a normal week of miss-matchmaking. Poison required planning and calculation. I explained that to Inspector Wright.
"Well, that makes some sense!" he exclaimed. "Everyone was telling me that she was purer than the Virgin Mary. She had enemies?" I nodded.
"When I first met her I assumed she was a harmless eccentric. As I came to know her better, I came to think of her as an evil presence," I said. "To know her was not to love her."
"You are her primary heir," the inspector bluntly told me.
"She changed her will on a monthly basis, disinheriting her favorite of the month before, and finding a new heir," I explained. "It was impossible to know who was or was not in the will. I would search the place for additional, hand written wills. She seemed to think of writing wills as an entertainment."
"You are the executor too," he said
"I am a busy man and that will be inconvenient for me," I said. "I have no knowledge of her financial situation at all." I gave the inspector the name of Lady Bracknell's banker and lawyer and gave him the name of other possible heirs. I then went home. I had wired ahead that I was returning, and my house was illuminated and the fires burning. It felt warm compared to the chill and damp Bracknell House.
Claude, my butler had the cook, Etienne, prepared a late supper and I went to bed after a bath. As usual, the footman, Billy helped me with the bath. The staff knew what I wanted. I am a man of regular habits. Billy was a pleasant young man who did most of the heavy tasks in the house. He was strong and liked to show off his strength. He was also manly and well equipped with manly organs.
I need to confess a personal quirk. To say I enjoy the company of men understates the case. My interest in men is by no means platonic. Richard, my valet, knows this and selected my staff accordingly. Their interests aren't platonic either, and all have a considerable sexual drive.
My own drive is considerable and might have led to unsuitable connections. Richard selected staff who were both good men and willing to please. Two or three sexual interludes a day are good for me. I as a student at Oxford, I discovered that giving other men pleasure enhanced my own pleasure.
Billy, my footman, enjoyed the active role in sexual relations and possessed great stamina and staying power. He and the coachman, Ralph, could wear me out. When I was agitated, Richard selected one of them to fuck me to sleep. Richard had a taste for man seed and he would take my load as Billy enjoyed pumping me to an orgasm. Billy left his load in my ass.
A week later I was officially told I was the sole heir. I went to see Lady Bracknell's lawyer. He was very elderly and not particularly coherent. I then visited her accountant. I was shocked at what I found from him. Lady Bracknell's matchmaking efforts were done for a fee. She owned a number of establishments, many pubs and hotels, some in distant places such as India, Hong Kong and even Argentina. In India she owned the Thousand Pleasures Hotels in Calcutta, Bombay and Delhi. The lady was a Madam overseeing an empire of bawdy houses. It also seemed that the houses catered to every possible need, interest and perversion.
While I am not a fabulously wealthy man, I have more than enough to live more than just comfortably. I had no need for additional wealth. It took me a while to realized I should dispose of properties and establishments.
This was quickly done. The hotels were well located and popular. There was one exception. I owned the Athena Hotel and Bath for Men in London. It was on a side street near Regents Park. It intrigued me and I had decided to inspect it before I sold it.
While the area was quite stylish, it was on commercial street filled with small businesses that served the residents of the area. There was a small bakery, a shoe repair shop and a laundry. The Athena had no street frontage. A small, well-kept alley connected to a courtyard. The Athena faced the courtyard. The building was well kept too. The sign was a modest brass plaque.
I knocked on the door, and a well-dressed footman answered. I had sent a letter explaining I might visit, and the footman knew who I was, and took me to meet the manager, Mr. Ahmed Saied. He was a well-dressed man who appeared to be a gentleman.
He greeted me warmly and spoke perfect English with almost no accent. "Mr. De Forest, it is so good to meet you sir. I hope that our humble hotel meets with your approval."
"It seemed to me that a bath house and a hotel are an unusual combination," I said.
"My family ran steam baths in Alexandria. Such facilities are rare here. I know that Englishmen ignore the typical cold of your climate. It seemed to me that there might be a few men who might enjoy feeling warmth," he explained. "The building was a small hotel for traveling men. If you take a room, you have access to the baths at any time. That has been most popular."
"Might I inspect the baths?" I asked.
"Of course, you may," he said, "There is one problem. We have a rule that fully dressed men can not enter the baths. Our bath patrons only have a towel and may be nude. I do not want to offend or embarrass them," Ahmed explained.
"That strikes me as a good policy. I will obey the house rules," I said. We went to the baths.
There was an undressing room with individual lockers. As I stripped, I noticed that Ahmed was an impressive man, built like a boxer. He was quite hairy and had most impressive genitals. Like many of the well-endowed men I have known, he was not shy.
He noted my genitals. "I have a feeling you might find this place much to your liking," he said. He handed me a large towel, and we went to the door of the bath. He pulled a tasseled cord, and a bell rang in the next room.
I looked at him, but before I could ask a question he said, "When we have a new visitor, we ring the bell to announce him," he said, "The dress in the baths is most informal as you may have guessed. Everyone wants to look their best."
"I understand fully," I replied.
The next space was the steam room. It was all marble, with stone benches against the walls. There were six men sitting or lying on the benches, all had towels. I noticed one man had covered his erection with the towel.
"This certainly is a handsome room, although it isn't much like the standard British bathtub!" I said. Ahmed laughed. My towel dropped off by accident.
"I hope I haven't offended anyone," I said. Abdul removed his towel as did the other men.
"I can assure you we are all men of a most liberal nature," Abdul said, "We all share some common interests." To emphasize that interest he fondled his balls.
"I suspect we do indeed share some interests," I said as I played with my equipment. "Would I shock you if I said some of my preferences may be overly intimate for most men?"
"I doubt that will be a problem," a tall, handsome man said. "I am Col. Robert MacDougal. My friends call me Bunny. I was small for my age until I turned fourteen. I wouldn't worry about being overly intimate. I am a bit oversized for some men, but I have a genuine interest in exploring men's potential for pleasure."
"Let me assure you, we have no intention to take advantage of you," Abdul said.
I smiled and said that I doubted that would be a problem. I told them I had to be at an appointment with an accountant in an hour. I then asked if there was a good time to get together.
"Mr. De Forest, I can have our best room ready for you tonight," Abdul said. "I would be greatly pleased if you would stay with us."
"I do not have any luggage," I said. I looked at the men. "It seems that your patrons are rarely overdressed.
"Don't worry about that, I will handle that," Abdul replied.
"Might I invite you for dinner tonight?" Bunny asked. I told him that would please me greatly. I left, dressed and went to meet with my accountant.
The accountant, Mr. Smith-Jones was a prim and proper man who did not impress me. I became impressed when he went over Lady Bracknell's financial situation. She had been Daisy Smith, a dance hall girl who married an elderly Lord Bracknell. He promptly died and thus made her an heiress. While she had provided some women with a titled husband, she also provided the husbands with other girls.
She had money tucked in out of the way banks and had a fortune of three hundred thousand pounds in cash. I was stunned. All went to me, and her servants of twenty years were left with nothing. I asked Mr. Jones-Smith to give them 500 pounds each, with the understanding, they could ask for more if needed.
"Most generous, generous indeed," Mr. Jones-Smith said.
"Is it too generous?" I asked.
"Pardon for me for saying that after twenty years with that woman, it seems appropriate," he said. Mr. Jones-Smith was both intelligent and perceptive. It was a good meeting.
I went back to the Athena at six and Bunny was waiting for me. We went to a nearby restaurant and had a fine dinner in a private room. London restaurants were not generally known for fine, food but dinner was exceptional.
"I sense we share common interests," he said during our conversation, "I like intimate connections with men. These tend to be physical and not emotional."
"I have the same interest, but I do get emotional when I am exchanging bodily fluids with a man. I also seem to enjoy being with several men," I explained. "Let's just say, I get increasingly open."
"Is that only with your mouth?" Bunny asked.
"Some manly fluids are the best lubricants," I said.
Bunny smiled. "They are not just the perfect drink before bed? Does that bother you?" he asked.
"It is quite the opposite," I said. "I don't think I want my interests to be known generally."
Bunny laughed, "Don't worry. The Athena Bath's patrons will soon discover all your interests and will be more than willing to explore them."
After dinner we walked three blocks to the Athena. The footman let us in, and we went to the bath entrance. Bunny had his own key, and we went to the locker room and stripped. Two men were there. One was a slight, young dandy. The other was a massive man in workman's clothes. Bunny introduced the dandy as Nigel. The other man was Hal. He was hairy and bruised. I suddenly realized he was Hairy Hal, a professional boxer.
Hal looked at Bunny and me and said, "It's nice to have some big meat here tonight." We went into the steam room. There were six men in the room, including Abdul.
Abdul stood and said, "Men, I would like to introduce you to Jonathan De Forest, the new owner of this establishment. When I met him with some of our patrons this afternoon, we all agreed he is a most proper, and openminded gentleman."
I had forgotten to wrap the towel around my waste. The men seemed to appreciate my forgetfulness. Most shifted their towels to expose their genitals so I would not be embarrassed. I appreciated the gesture.
I sat between two men; an older man named Walt and a younger man named Theo. Walt owned a book shop and Theo was gentleman. Nigel came over to Theo, dropped to his knees and began sucking him.
"I hope someone mentioned everyone here is quite friendly," Walt said in deep voice.
"The world would be a better place if there were more friendly men," I remarked. Walt bent over and began sucking me. Nigel and Theo got up and went to another room. Hairy Hal took their seat.
"Is Walt doing a good job?" Hal asked.
"He surely is," I replied.
"Have you done this enough to know the difference between an average cock sucker and a great cock sucker?" Hal asked.
"I have to confess that I do," I said. "Walt knows how to keep me hard, just short of shooting."
"Do you entertain in the servants' entry?" Hal asked. "My balls are ready to overflow unless I find some relief. Maybe you noticed I'm a big boy."
"I do and I have a warm spot for big tools. I wouldn't want to be rude to Walt," I said.
"Walt and I can work things out. Let's go to someplace where there is more room," Hal said. "It's quite public, but I'm used to an audience."
We went to the next room. It was cross shaped, with a circular pool in the center. There were benches and covered in pillows as chairs in each of the four arms of the cross. The entire place was tiled in brilliant colors. We went to one of the arms.
Walt put some pillows on the floor and laid down. I fed him my cock and leaned over to suck his cock. It was bigger than I expected and when I swallowed his cock, I tasted his rich cock juices. He was excited.
Someone squirted some lubricating oils into my ass. Hal was ready and he nudged his cock into me. Hal was both a forceful and gentle fucker. A friend of mine described it as both enjoying the trip and the destination. Men gathered around to watch and encourage Hal.
I don't know how long it took to shoot off. Hal filled me and a second of two later I fed Walt. It was wonderful for me and for them.
Bunny was watching and he poked his cock into me after Hal pulled out. I had felt empty when Hal vacated my ass. Bunny filled the void. He shot off quickly and pulled out.
Abdul came to me and whispered in my ear. "I have a friend from Alexandria visiting me. Is there room in your ass for another?" Somehow, I said yes.
The Egyptian, who was named Mustapha, was big, gentle and seemed to shoot off for five or ten minutes. I hardly knew what was going on by then. Apparently, Hal and Mustapha carried me to my bedroom. They took turns fucking me and each other through the night.
I woke the next morning rested and alert. Hal had left, but Mustapha was with me. His English wasn't good, but he wanted to make sure I was undamaged. Once he was sure of that, he sucked me to an orgasm and ate my load with great enthusiasm. All was well.