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Author: Bald Hairy Man, Email: bldhrymn@excite.com

Catfish and Company Part Fithteen

We brought a video of the funeral back to Richmond. Vince had the Fire Department videos and wanted to see if it was possible to pick out any people who appeared in both. He said, often people as sick as the ones we were dealing with liked to see their victims buried. We didn't have time to compare, but Vince said, he had firemen who had lots of time.

Richmond's Mayor started a moral uplift campaign. He seemed to think the bombing was God's judgment on the sinfulness of modern life. He started to hold rallies. These were poorly attended, but were good for our investigation. We found out who the Mayor's friends and associates were.

The Fire and Police Departments took the campaign really badly. The bombing had killed more of their members than any other event in Richmond's history and they didn't like the idea their dead were sinners at all. A television reporter asked the Mayor that question point blank.

"Are you saying, Sir, the men and women killed in the bombing were sinners?" She asked.

"No, they paid for the sins of others." the Mayor said with a smug assurance.

"You mean God kills the innocent to punish the guilty." she asked.

"Things like abortion, homosexuality and . . ." the Mayor got lost in his reply.

"Being Jewish, Mr. Mayor?" the reporter filled in the blank. The Mayor was in shit up to his eyeballs by then and left the room. That interchange got on national news. I thought he would keep his mouth shut after that, but no such luck. He got to be a celebrity on some of the strange talk shows and his campaign was well financed by some deep pocketed extremist.

Captain Walker, the man in charge of the investigation for the city and the bookkeeper in charge of the Fire Department weren't powerhouses of drive and intelligence. They weren't bad men, just the wrong men.

I was shocked when Wilmot Evans, the Fire Chief-Accountant appeared at my office.

"Mr. Noland, I would like to speak with you about the Temple Bombing." he said in his somewhat prissy, very precise way. "We have a theory about the event and I understand you have an alternative view. We have been working under the assumption it is the work of foreign terrorists, probably Arab and probably Anti-Semitic."

I explained my theory. It was the work of home-grown terrorists, primarily anti-abortion, but with a strong ultra right wing aspect. "I wouldn't be surprised if Anti-Semitism and anti Gay elements aren't part of the brew, but I think it's mostly born-again and holier-than-thou." I outlined my evidence, not telling him some important parts of the story.

"Well, Mr. Noland, I would outline the case for foreign terrorists for you, but as you well know, there is no such case." Wilmot said. "Captain Walker at the Police Department and I went through all the files this weekend. I am an accountant. Nothing added up. The foreign terrorists do not exist, their plot does not exist. We have been chasing a mirage."

"That's the way I see it." I said.

"The Mayor and I are very close, did you know his wife in my niece?" I shook my head. "I can not endanger the Department, my men and the people of the city with this charade. Captain Walker feels the same way. We must redirect the investigation."

"Actually, Mr. Evens, we would kind of like it if you, officially at least, leave it as it is. We think the bombers have been lulled into a false sense of security. If you can keep the Mayor off our backs, that would be help enough."

"I can see your point." he said. "We can share information."

"We already are, Sir." I said. "We are well coordinated with both the Fire and Police Department."

"That explains it." Wilmot said. "When Walker and I went over the files, we realized the official theory wouldn't hold water. We wondered why we hadn't had rebellion in the ranks. They were already working on your theory."

"Yes, Sir."

"That makes me feel better." he said. "You have our support. Is the Mayor involved?"

"Up to his eyeballs, I'm afraid."

"Sandra, my niece and her mother fear that too." Wilmot said. "Sandra feels there is something dreadfully wrong. Her husband has changed. She thinks he thought he made a deal with a prophet and made it with the devil instead. I don't think he can be saved politically."

"Captain Walker and I want to save our Departments." he continued. "After the loss of personnel following the Mayor's election, the disaster of the bombing and this botched investigation, I need to save the Department's reputation." With this declaration he left.

I called Vince and told him about the conversation.

"Do you think he was trying to get information for the Mayor? Could he be a mole?" Vince asked.

"I don't think so." I said. "I think he was genuinely shocked at the investigation. He's a bean counter who was put in an impossible situation. My guess is, he had more guts than the Mayor thought. The Mayor thought he had a rubber stamp and Wilmot Evans has some backbone."

"We will know soon enough." Vince said as he hung up. The phone rang immediately; it was Ed.

"Do you remember my mentioning Reverend Johnny?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Well he likes to do some of his saving at the Southern Bar and Grill on Jefferson Davis Highway." Ed said. "It's a motorcycle, drug drop kind of place. Word came back the good Reverend has been in a particularly exalted mood since Bert died. You might check it out. It's Friday, they'll have a good crowd there.

"Have you been there?"

"I sure have, but they know I'm a prison guard. They clam up." Ed said. "With your good looks and commanding presence, you should fit in great. There will be a full crew tonight." I thanked him for the info. Lonnie came in the room.

"Do you know anything about the Southern Bar and Grill?" I asked.

"Not my kind of place. Drunks, bikers and fags, heavy into leather." he said.

"Would I fit in?"

"You sure as hell would." he said. "They like guys big there, 250 plus, but your big where it counts. I'd wear something to advertise your meat and you'll be beating them off with a stick." That evening I went to the restaurant and took a seat at the bar. I was wearing an old flannel shirt and older jeans. I was unbuttoned to my navel and had not brushed my hair or beard, so I looked a bit like a wild man.

I asked for a Bud and nursed it while watching a NASCAR race on the television. No smoking regulations don't apply to Jefferson Davis Highway. Everyone there was a regular, so I stood out, especially since I had showered in the last day or so, and didn't saher the stale smell of beer and cigarettes that filled the room.

"What brings you here, Mister?"

"Bad luck." I said. "I was supposed to have a hot date with a girl in Colonial Heights and the bitch stood me up."

"Have another beer." the guy said. "Beer is a lot more dependable than a bitch, any day. I'm Skeeter." Skeeter was about 200 pounds, with dirty blond hair and a beard. I guessed he was 35 or so.

"Beer is good, but you can't fuck it." I said. "They call me Donkey Man." Skeeter took a glance at my crotch.

"Now how did you get a name like that?"

"I kicked my Momma so much before I was born, they though she was going to give birth to a donkey." I said. "They didn't know I was going to be a hairy bastard until I got older." Skeeter laughed. Every time I turned to look at the NASCAR race, he stared at my crotch. He introduced me to a guy named Beau and another guy named Buddy. Beau was deeply tanned, with curly black hair and a barrel chest. I looked at his hands and knew he was a carpenter. Buddy was tall and thin and was an auto mechanic.

They all sympathized with my woman problems. They liked my Donkey Man story and each looked at my crotch as I told it. They all knew the real story. All were interested.

"Most girls wouldn't recognize a real man if she found him. They want to go dancing and partying. You can't do that every night when your working construction." Beau complained. "I leave at five to get to work, I can't stay up to one or two in the morning."

"I know what you mean." Buddy said. " They say, "Your hands are too dirty". Shit, I'm a mechanic. You can't fix a car without getting dirty!"

"I'll bet they get real lovey-dovey, when their car breaks down." I said.

"You're real perceptive, Donkey Man. They'll call, "Buddy I'd love to see you, can you come over. And bring your tools " I'll go over knowing I'll fix the car, but probably she'll let me fuck her for payment. The last time that happened, her God Damned mother showed up." Everyone laughed.

"Do not use the Lord's name in vain!" a high shrill voice screeched.

"It's the fucking Preacher!" Beau said.

"Preacher man! Come over here." Skeeter called. "Donkey Man here needs for you to pray for him, so he can get laid tonight!" Rev. Johnny was thin, pasty, pale, clean shaven and had small features. He clearly rarely saw the light of day. He had a spectacularly coifed hair do, a combination of Elvis and TV evangelist. Every hair was sprayed in place. He came over to see us.

"You laugh at me, but you will pay someday." he said. "Fire, brimstone and death shall be on your heads. God punishes. I am his prophet and his hand."

"If that's the way you feel about it, don't pray for me to get laid." I said. "Personally, I think I might do better on my own." My companions were dazzled at my witty repartee. "I'm Presbyterian, either I was destined to get laid or not. It was all decided before time began." One of my Aunts had used a variant of the line to shut up a troublesome neighbor, who thought it was awful she drank wine with dinner. Reverend Johnny looked puzzled, said, "Humph!" and left us. My new friends burst into gales of laughter.

"You need come to here regular." Buddy said. "We've never gotten rid of him so quickly before."

"He's a pest?" I asked.

"Harmless." Skeeter said.

"I'm not so sure about that." Beau said. "Remember last week? When he said, he didn't need a gun? That was strange."

"What did he do?" I asked. "I'm no giant, but I could sure handle him."

"He was saying he would get us. I said, are you getting a gun? And he said, he didn't need a gun. He could do us in and nobody would be the wiser." Beau explained. "I thought that was just his typical line of bullshit, but then he added, "like Burt", or Robert or some name like that."

"I asked, "Who in hell is Bert?" and he clamed up and left." Skeeter added. "It was strange."

"He looks like a strange one to me. I'd keep away from him." I said. They told me more about him. He was Rev. Johnny Millbank and he had a store front church on Hull Street. It was called the 'Open Bars Ministry'.

"He likes prisoners and drunks a lot." Beau said. "We drink, but we aren't drunks. Not anymore."

"He wants to save them?" I asked.

"I think he really wants to feel superior to them." Beau said. "Tommy over there in the corner got in trouble once and the Reverend didn't do shit."

"The way we're putting down beers, I'm going to be in trouble soon." I said. I was feeling good by then.

"Don't you worry one bit about that. I live in the trailer park right behind here." Beau took a long look at my crotch and the outline of my cock in my pants leg. "Many a guy has slept it off in my double wide." He looked me in the eye. "They had a damn good time too."

I knew exactly what he was hoping for.

"Beau's a real friendly guy. He's helped us all out from time to time." Skeeter said.

"I hope you guys help him out too." I said. There was a pause in the conversation.

"We sure do." Buddy said. "Guys can be real helpful. If they're open minded."

"No one is more open minded than me." I said. My cock was beginning to react to the talk and they all noticed that.

"Another round of beers for my friends here." I said. It wasn't eight yet and I was a bit afraid we would be too drunk by the end of the night to have any real fun. The room was real smoky, but I began to get a whiff of non cigarette smoke. I looked toward the kitchen and saw smoke billowing from the kitchen.

"I just got a call. The cops will be here in ten minutes. They got sniffer dogs with them. It's time to leave." I announced in my best bull-horn like voice. There was dead silence and everyone began to move. Several dead drunks managed to get up and out. Thirty seconds later, the place was empty.

"What in hell was that about?" Beau asked. The bartender looked pissed.

"The place is on fire. Let's get out of here." I said. The bartender looked back at the kitchen. "Oh shit!" he said as he dialed 911.

It was cool and nice outside. Skeeter had to go to see his parents in Emporia, leaving me with Beau and Buddy. "How close is your trailer?" I asked. Beau looked at me and smiled. There was a 7-11 next door, so I picked up two six packs and we all adjourned to Beau's double wide. We could hear the fire engines in the distance.

Beau's trailer wasn't what I expected. It was clean and neat with pictures of three children everywhere.

"Bad divorce?" I asked when I saw them.

"That would be the nice way to say it." Beau said, bitterly. "Get in the shower Buddy! You know the routine." Buddy left the room for the bath. "It's one thing to get dirty at work, another to leave the dirt at home. I need to shower too, do you mind?" Beau asked.

"Not at all. I wouldn't mind a little freshening up myself." I said.

"Jump in the shower with me!" Beau said.

"Is Buddy with the program?" I asked.

"Big time." Beau said. "He's the one who gave me some lessons."

It turned out neither man was a virgin. Beau was somewhat new to it and a bit reserved. Buddy was a wild man, open to anything and everything.

Beau was hairy with a nice compact set of balls and dick. He was cut and had a solid, six-inch, tube of man meat. Buddy was thin, with hair on his chest and a trail to his pubic forest. He was uncut with six or seven inches of not too thick cock. Beau was quiet and didn't show much emotion. He leaked non stop, so you knew under his calm exterior his juices were churning. Beau was one of those guys who stares at your cock and seemed to be unsure if he will touch it, then swallows it whole and won't stop sucking until he has drawn every drop of cum from your cock.

Buddy was the opposite. He was enthusiastic about everything, wide open to my cock and not shy one bit about what my cock felt like as I rammed him. Beau had told me to fuck him good, while we were in the shower. "It's the only way you can calm him down." he said.

Buddy was ready. He admitted my cock was a size or two bigger than he was accustomed to, but he was ready. We tried it spread eagle style first, but it hurt too much, so he decided to sit on it. It was good for me, but strange for Buddy. Buddy didn't enjoy my cock; he craved it. I think he must have been one of those guys who take being a size queen really seriously. Everyone likes to look at big cocks, but not all want them rammed in their ass.

Buddy wanted it in his ass, all the way, to the hilt. He was willing to work for it and he didn't care what he had to do to get it in. I really don't like hurting guys, least of all in the ass. You think of the apparatus as being utilitarian, but it's all really delicate. I've spent enough time in an ass to know the intense feeling you get when your cock and cock head touch the membranes and organs in a guy's ass, don't come from rubbing against calluses. It's all tender inside the hole. The cock is the organ of touch.

Fortunately, the tight hole that was a problem for Buddy felt great to me. Buddy was a hot fuck. Beau was turned on by watching his friend take my dick. Buddy finally got use to it and got to spend some quality time in places he had never been before.

I spent some time in those places when Mark fucked me and I sent my friend Jim there, many times. I was a little afraid Buddy would be uncomfortable taking the trip in front of Beau, his friend. Beau helped Buddy along. Beau never lost his erection the whole time we were fucking. I realized, Beau liked to watch and we sure put on a good show.

If Beau wanted a demonstration of every way you can force a cock into an ass, Buddy and I did it. Buddy got loosened up after the first half hour, either that or his ass hole was so tired he couldn't resist anymore. Beau is a man of few words, those words being, "look at that fucker slide in that hole", and "fucking hot!"

His cock was hard and dripping the whole time, I leaned over and licked the precum several times. Both Beau and Buddy liked that. Buddy finally came and fell asleep immediately. Beau looked relieved. He was lying on the bed, so I straddled him and sat on his cock.

I totally surprised him.

"Shit, I haven't been in a hole since my wife left me." he said. I began grinding my ass on his love pole.

"Just think of it as a man cunt." I said. He was enjoying it a lot.

"You're tighter than that bitch ever was." he said. I figured out what would really make his day.

"How did you like to fuck her? Doggy style?"

"On her back." he said.

"Let's do it that way then." I said.

"I cum real fast that way."

"Shove it in and let nature take it's course." That's what we did. Beau was right, he popped quickly, but it was the right angle for his cock and my prostate, so it worked out well for both of us. Beau was a happy camper.

THE END

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