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Author: Bald Hairy Man, Email:

Catfish and Company Part Two

It's safe to say that Ari, Roosevelt and I hit it off. Once we got naked it was as if we had been old fuck buddies since our forefathers got off the ark. Roo sat on a ceramic bench in the corner of the shower. Ari just bent over to suck Roo's dark dong and opened his ass nice and wide. I know an invitation when I see it and I shoved my meat in to the hilt. I know a guy doesn't open his hole without a ulterior motive and I was right. Ari liked it in the ass and had no problem with Roo or me.

I'm a real hairy guy and its not often I find someone who is as hairy as me, but Ari was a circus freak in the hair department. I ran my hands through the fur on his back. My hairy balls were bouncing against his gorilla nuts and I got real turned on. I felt like George of the Jungle and I had found true love with Gorilla man.

"I'd like some of that ass." Roo said after a while. I am always polite, so I pulled out, a bit unwillingly and traded places with Roosevelt. Ari didn't mind at all. The steam was going, so it was warm, humid and felt tropical. I fantasized I was in a gay porn movie with an unusually good set. We weren't pretty like the porn stars, but we had enough balls and cocks to satisfy the most rabid size queen.

I felt we had neglected Ari's cock, so I got on the floor. I made Ari and Roo spread their legs so I could get at Ari's meat. The second Roo rammed Ari's prostate I knew this was a good idea. Ari was spread wide and his innards must have shifted to the ideal position.

Sucking Ari was a trip. His balls were big, his cock was short and he could have done his pubic hair up in a bouffant. It wasn't a cock for guys who don't like hair caught between their teeth. When I finally licked my way through the hair forest, the cock was a curiosity. It was a huge, two inch head on a thick, three inch shaft.

Now I have always been interested in cock heads. It seems to me the head is the business end of the cock. It has always seemed odd the part of the cock that gets the most use in sex is also the most sensitive and tender. Someone once told me the prostate is another sensitive part of a guy's sexual anatomy. Ari's cock was dribbling from the first lick. He liked it. I was sucking Ari as Roo pounded his ass and I wondered which activity felt best to him.

Roo was moaning some and I knew he had popped. We rearranged ourselves.

"You've been a trooper, Ari." I said. "What's you pleasure?" He looked at me sheepishly.

"I'd kind of like a little more fucking." he said. "It may be a bit sloppy."

"Shit! We're in the shower!" I said. "Do you mind if I screw you spread-eagled? It gives me a little more control."

"Hot Damn!" he said. Ari was a nice guy. I gave him a good country boy fucking this time. His eyes, tongue and pink cock head were just about the only parts of him not covered in hair. Underneath he had a barrel chest and a six pack gut. He began to shoot and it made a design like one of those Potluck modern paintings. There was pure white cum splattered all over his chest and gut. I was admiring the design when I felt the cum build up in my shaft.

I pulled out and added my seed to the mess. We were both winded. Roosevelt had recovered and was getting hard again. He played with the cum on Ari's body and wrote out the words "wash me" in sperm. No one ever accused me of being handsome and Ari was not a dream boat in a conventional sense. Roosevelt, however, was beautiful. He was golden brown with a clipped, bushy, jet black mustache and short, almost shaved hair on his head.

He worked out and you could tell. He was sculpted. I guessed he must have shaved his body at one time. There was a short stubble of hair over his chest, but only his pubic hair was bushy. He had a Concord like cock. It looked like that French plane. It stuck straight out then drooped. The Concord goes to a point. Roosevelt's cock flared out into a mushroom head.

His piss slit glistened. I felt it and it was cock slime, just right for easing his way into an ass. Roosevelt was a reserved and in control guy, a real marine type. He didn't show much emotion. Fortunately, his balls must have been permanently in overdrive. When ever I saw him naked, he was dripping. He couldn't control his balls, they loved sex even if he couldn't admit it.

Ari was the opposite. He loved it and you knew it. We got to be good friends. He had a wife and kids and loved them too. She was a semi-invalid and sex with men was his release from being a full time dad, nurse and restaurant owner. I never figured out how he did it.

Our patrol for the Western alliance was good for us. First of all, we did real well. There was a series of muggings the week we were hired and we figured out who was doing it quickly and put the kibosh to it. I had a technique of catching the perps and providing a little punishment too. It's good when you nab a guy in the act and get to apprehend him. A dislocated shoulder, or broken arm can make a guy remember the error of his ways pretty good.

I'm so small most of the idiots were too embarrassed to admit I did it. Even the poor lawyers who got stuck as public defenders knew they would be laughed out of court if they said the 200 pound bruiser was assaulted by this 120 pound twirp. I'm kind of country anyway and in court I come across as a real hayseed.

The Judges like me. They get to see me all the time and I made it easier to sentence the guys. I've already done some punishing. Judge Wilson told me once that he wasn't a fool and I'd better be real careful. I told him I knowed he wasn't a fool and I only tackled guys caught in the act. He didn't go any further, but we understood each other. When a guy showed up in a sling, or cast, they knew I was the apprehending officer. "Catfish casts" were a joke in the judge's chambers someone told me.

The other nice thing about the Western Alliance is the group was made of a lot of wealthy and well connected people. We kept a low profile. Officially it was the citizens patrols who made the difference. The important people knew it was us and they came to us for help. We didn't want it to be known there was a private security firm that knew its stuff. The glory went to our clients. We did the work and got the satisfaction. We also made quite a bit of cash in the process.

Two other guys were part of our original operation. Freddy Williams was a beefy former detective who also had a degree in accounting. He was book smart, not street smart and he was real good about some kinds of crime and with some clients. Freddy was slightly dumpy and no one would ever guess he was a security man. He also liked management, keeping books and running the office. That was a blessing for me. I have no interest in business stuff at all. Freddy said he wasn't gay, he just liked sex with men. I never went into that at all.

Virgil Goodhue was a former football player who just got along with just about everybody. He was big, blond, crew cut and clean cut. He kind of inspired confidence in our clients. He was a nice guy to have around the house, or at a party. Butch said when the clients saw me, they went to hide their daughters. Virgil didn't have that problem.

The City Police approach to safety got to be downright odd. They cut salaries and forbid moonlight work and off hours working. They said you needed eight hours of sleep, or you weren't fresh enough, you weren't giving your all to the City. They also didn't believe "unworthy organizations" deserved protection. The "unworthy" included topless clubs, gay bars, and women's medical clinics.

We soon got calls from Planned Parenthood and from Beth Israel, a big temple in downtown. The City said they didn't provide protection for churches, thus they wouldn't protect the temple. It turned out the Center for Women and the Temple were in the same block. It was a formula for trouble. Adding to the brew was the office of Richmond Times, a gay newspaper. It was across the street from the Temple.

You wouldn't think that the anti-abortion people would be worried about the gays. Lesbian and gay couples don't need abortions, or birth control for that matter. You would be wrong. The Temple was protected by Inland Security, one of our best clients. They saw trouble coming and gave us a call. Officially, Inland protected the Temple. We provided the beef.

The Center for Women had Richmond Security. It was essentially a night watchman service. They hired a number of nice retired guys. They wore uniforms and hoped the uniform would scare away the bad guys. Every Friday, Virgil and I made it a point to prowl the area around the Temple, keeping an eye on the Women's Center too. There had been several fire bombings of the clinic in the past.

I wish I could say I anticipated the disaster. I knew there were potential problems and I was uneasy. I hadn't guessed it would be a truck bomb.

I was the first to see it. When you watch a street, you know the usual traffic. Every street has a pattern. This van drove up. It said it was the Wythville Automotive Supply Company. Wythville is the other side of the state. It just parked next to the drop off space for the Temple and two guys got out and walked away from it. They weren't automotive parts kind of guys. I know what those guys look like. The van had paper taped to the windows so you couldn't see in. It was brand new paper, not stained and dirty like any respectable van.

It was the middle of the month and Friday, about three in the afternoon. I called Butch and he said to call the Police. They said it was all right to park. I told them it was nosed into the drop off lane and should be towed. They did nothing.

I called Butch again. He said he would bring Roger over. I was afraid I was making a mountain over a molehill, but I managed to convince myself that the usual number of demonstrators at the Woman's building weren't there. That meant something. By now it was almost five and Services would start shortly.

No one harassed the employees and Doctors at the Women's Center as they began to leave for the night. I was getting really worried. Virgil talked to Rabbi Cohen and the Director of the Woman's Center. They were concerned. At 5:30, Butch arrived with Roger. Roger is a retired police dog. Roger was a sniffer. He had bad arthritis, but his mind and nose were still good.

Roger went bonkers. He had found the mother load.

"Holy Shit!" Butch said. I already had dialed 911 and told them we had a bomb. They came that time. The Fire Department beat the Police to the site by five minutes. The ATF men arrived too. There were ten or twenty people in the Temple getting ready for services and over a hundred kids in its Hebrew School . Butch called our office which was only a few blocks away and we sent people to warn the residents of the apartment houses to leave.

The Fire Department was great. The patrolmen were great. The Chief of Police didn't show, nor did the Mayor. They said it was too dangerous.

I was kicking myself for knowing nothing about bombs. Muggers don't use bombs and I'm not much on watching the news. I had an idea that a lot of explosive could be packed in a van, but didn't really know. I went to the back of the Temple and found the school kids and their teachers lined up in the alley. This didn't seem far enough away, so I led them through the backyard of a house, into the next street. This was a real nice neighborhood and the yard was pretty

The neighbors on the street were all looking panicked as they tried to collect their kids, cats and dogs and get away, but they were under control. A nice woman told us to go through her yard and off to the next street. This was a city neighborhood, so there was only three feet between the houses. This made moving the kids slow, but the solid mass of brick houses would provide some protection if there was a blast. Rabbi Cohen caught up with us and collapsed. He was carrying some bundles. He told me to take the kids.

An Indian doctor wearing a turban appeared. He lived in the house whose yard we were crossing. He looked at the Rabbi and told us to move out quickly he would help Cohen. They were friends I guess. Cohen wanted me to take the bundles, so I did and we got to the next street. It was a mad house of fire engines, ambulances and people. I was afraid we would lose a kid.

A minister and several women saw us and told us to followthem. We walked another block and went into a big church. He took us to the basement and it was suddenly quiet. Everything will be fine, I thought. Then I heard a gigantic explosion. It was muffled, but I knew what it was. A few seconds later there were more explosions, like giant popcorn popping. I left the kids and teachers in the hands of the Minister and went out to the street.

There was glass everywhere. I looked down and realized it was broken stained glass windows. Smoke was rising from the area near the Temple, so I ran back.

The smoke cleared for a minute and I saw every window in a high rise for the elderly was blown out. There was a big fire at the Temple, but smaller plumes of smoke began to rise from other buildings. I turned the corner and saw burning fire engines and an ambulance on fire in the middle of the street.

It looked as if there were bodies everywhere. Since I had been in the church during the explosion I was moving as if nothing had happened. Most of the guys in the street had been stunned, or were in shock from the blast. I didn't know if the people in the street were seriously hurt. Firemen and emergency people arrived from the side streets about when I did. Broken glass was the only problems for the people outside of the immediate blast area. That, and the fire of course.

I found Butch, he was cut, but not badly. He had lost Roger, but was helping a badly cut woman get to an ambulance. Virgil was at the Woman's center. It had been cleared completely, so no one was hurt there. He was with another one of our employees going into the apartment house next door.

The firemen seemed disorganized, so no one was telling you to stay away. There was a constant wail of ambulances, as additional fire equipment arrived. There was a burned out car in the middle of the street. It had the Fire Chief's insignia on the unburned side. I had a bad feeling about that. I couldn't get near the Temple, so I went to the other side of the street and crossed through the back yards. The houses whose yards we had crossed to escape were burning. I almost felt sick thinking how close the kids had been to being burned.

I saw the turbaned Doctor giving first aid in the middle of the next street. There was blood everywhere. Broken glass almost looked like snow, or sleet on the street. The Police didn't have control of the situation, so the residents were fending for themselves. There were sheets, blankets and towels being used as bandages.

Elinor Salina was organizing `Search and Rescue' parties. This was her street, she knew everyone there and was firmly in control. She also was used to command and very decisive. Everyone did what she told them to do.

"Catfish!" she cried. "No one has been in the elderly apartment house. Take Ben here and check it out." Ben was a college student. The Universities Art building was at the end of the street and Ben looked like an artist type. Ben and some of his friends followed me and we went to the apartment. The apartment was a mess. All the windows on one side had been blown out and the residents were lost and in shock. I decided to get them out of the building and into the church where I had stashed the children. Ben had a cell phone and soon he seemed to get all the available art students pushing, carrying, or leading the elderly residents to safety. It was easy to get the residents who were wandering in the halls. The rooms were another matter.

Some people were hiding in terror. Some rooms were...The right word doesn't exist to describe what we found.

The next two days were a blur. I don't really know what I did. Everyone did whatever was needed. I was no exception. I gave detailed statements to the Police and the Feds. My picture appeared on the front page of the paper leading the children to safety and carrying the Torah. I had no idea what was in the bundle. I looked like a cross between the Pied Piper and Moses. The local TV people knew who I was, but kept my name out of the news. They listed me as a local resident. I didn't want any publicity. I wanted to catch some bombers.

In the end, twenty three people died, twelve firemen, two police, three ATF agents and the rest were residents. Two of the residents were in the apartment house I searched. 674 people were wounded, mostly with cuts, some were real bad. I felt good only two were killed in the apartment house. If you had seen what is was like, you wouldn't have though anyone could have survived the shattered glass.

Our office and my apartment became the headquarters of several rescue groups. As former policemen, we had connections to a number of the rescue units that came to help. They crashed at my place. A shower and an hour of sleep was a godsend to many of the men. Ari organized the local restaurants and they provided food. The gay bar, three blocks away from the site, served as a cafeteria.

I would get home at three in the morning and find three guys sleeping in my room and two in the shower. I'd take a shower and sleep in a chair. Someone from Ari's restaurant would arrive with sandwiches and snacks.

We organized the protection of the damaged buildings and houses. The City Police seemed to be uninterested in looting. The Mayor didn't ask for additional state help. Fortunately there were a number of retired policemen who were eager to work for us. We were able to do what we promised to do. My friend John and his company, Millennium Construction, organized the stabilization of the damaged buildings. He was real organized.

A week later I sat down with Butch. We were going to have two guys spending the night. They were from the East Zion Crossroads Rescue Squad who had to wait to take someone home the next day. Just about every rescue squad within 100 miles helped.

"How is Roger?" I asked. I had completely forgotten about the dog.

"Dead. He was killed in the blast." Butch said. I started to cry. I couldn't believe it. I was crying over the dog. Butch put his arm around me. We weren't affectionate even though we had sex many times. It felt good.

"Roger was a happy dog. He had found the mother load. It was the best day of his life. He was old and in pain and as the last thing he did, he saved hundreds of people's lives." Butch said. I don't think I was crying about the dog only. It was all the people whose lives had been ruined or changed. I just got sort of overwhelmed. For a moment, it was too much for me. We talked for awhile and I felt better.

"I need to get to bed." I said finally.

"You can't. We've got company." Butch said. I had forgotten about the men. They hadn't arrived yet, but were due any minute.

"I'll sleep on the couch." I said. Butch looked at me a bit sheepishly.

"I kind of promised them some fun." he said. "Sandy, the paramedic is an old friend of mine. We were playmates once. He and a friend of his were hoping for some serious relaxation time."

"Shit!" I said. "I was hoping for some sleep." I was really annoyed. "Is he a bottom?" I asked without thinking. I hadn't thought about sex in a week.

"The best bottom I've ever known." Butch said. "He loves it and never gets tired. He can go as long as you can." The doorbell rang. I really wasn't interested in having sex with two strangers. Until I saw them.

They had the afternoon off and had gone to the site to help clear rubble. They were working in one of the burned houses. The two men were totally covered in soot and grime. Butch made them strip at the door and he took their clothes to the washer. I took them to the shower. I kind of like guys who work hard and these boys were my type. I really didn't have much idea what they looked like. Soot gets into everything, so their bodies were as black as their clothes. We all got in the shower and scrubbed them down.

Sandy was a big blond guy with a close cropped beard and blue eyes. He was tanned and covered in short blond hair from his neck to his toes. He had classic bear balls and cock, compact and rounded. Mark, his partner, was tall, maybe 6'-4" and ungainly. He had a handlebar mustache and a thick covering of hair on his chest and gut. He seemed to be built a bit like Goofy, nothing seemed to be attached right. Except for his cock. It was a prize winner. I've got a big one, but his was bigger.

Sandy was an old friend of Butch, but it only took three or four minutes to realize they were current friends too. Sure, Butch got his cock in Sandy's hole in record time, but they weren't fucking. Butch and Sandy were making love. As I said before, Butch wasn't normally an affectionate kind of guy, but I think the bombing must have changed him some.

I looked at Mark and he looked at me and we knew we were going to have a good night. Ugly guys with great cocks have a problem. Lots of people get turned on by big cocks and they like them. But you can't just walk around town waving your cock at passers by. Once I'm naked, I do pretty well. It may not be love, but I don't mind satisfying a guy's curiosity, if it means he'll drain my balls. Mark and I both had an asset we couldn't market. We understood each other. We were soul mates.

Mark was 6'4 and I am 5'4' and remarkably everything fit. We sixty-nined and it was as if our tonsils had been waiting our entire life to be touched by the other man's cock. He oozed real cock jam. I could work my tongue deep into his piss slit and taste it newly minted. I've never been a fancier of cock juice, neither precum nor cum. It was always a sign of a job well done to me, but not the main attraction. Somehow, Mark's cock dribble really hit the spot. It was sweet. I told him that and he said, it was `Redneck Surprise" flavor and he made it specially for me.

Mark and I weren't making love. It was sex, pure and simple. Maybe not that pure, come to think of it. Sometimes the sex is so good it becomes something else. That was Mark and me. We spent half the night draining each other's cocks, then I slipped my meat into his love tunnel and he liked it more than I did . That is saying a lot. My cock felt like it was home at last.

It went in easy, then Mark tightened his chute. It felt as if his ass was shrink wrapped to my cock. I would thrust and then pull back and he tried to hold it, as if his ass didn't want my cock to leave. I don't know how long we fucked, but it was great. I woke the next morning with his cock a few inches from my mouth. We fell asleep in the 69 position. He rotated and whispered to me.

"Your back door unlocked?" he asked. "I've been dreaming about it all night." I'm not much of a bottom, but I didn't want to disappoint.

"Your big." I said. His meat was bigger than mine. He had a huge head on a long shaft, it was like a lollipop. I've got a club cock with the head the same size as the shaft. I wasn't too enthusiastic. Mark must have felt my hesitation. He felt my ass. He had lubed his finger and I opened up some. Usually I tense up when someone touches my hole. Not this time.

"I know it's big. Once the head is in, they tell me it's really relaxing." said Mark. His fingers were real long and he poked my prostate and I couldn't breath for a second. I was going to say I wasn't real sure about this but the pressure on my prostate was too much for me to talk. "I ram the head through real fast. You hardly notice." he said.

Somehow he got my legs on his shoulder and my ass open wide. He did what he said he would. There was a sharp pain, then his pubic hair was touching my ass. I didn't know what to feel. He moaned.

"Shit! It's going to be hard not to shoot!" he said. Mark was wrong about that. The boy had good control. He began to pull out again, withdrawing three or four inches, then he reversed course. He did this a few times and I began to warm up. His shaft wasn't really thin, it was just thin compared to thes head. As he fucked, the shaft seemed to disappear and I only felt the head moving in my love tunnel. It felt okay after a few thrusts, kind of good after a few more and then I lost it.

I like to be in control, but I felt an avalanche of feeling. Waves of sensation flowed over me and through me. I came, but he didn't stop and I didn't mind. He came a minute or two later and I had a second orgasm. Butch later told me my cock looked like a fountain of cum spraying my sperm all over the room.

Mark pulled out and I felt empty. Butch came over and replaced him in my ass. He had never fucked me before.

"You looked like you need a soft landing, little buddy." he said. His cock felt good too, not as intense as with Mark, but real nice. My cock was still drooling cum. Butch pulled back, so only the head was in my ass. "If I do this much longer I'm going to shoot." he said "Go for it." I replied. I will swear I could feel the cum spurting from his cock. It was that good.


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