Date: Fri, 6 Feb 2009 03:22:09 -0800 (PST)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Catfish does Shalespeare 2

Catfish does Shakespeare 2

by Bald Hairy Man

This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that DON'T
read it. You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, not for
minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual.  No effort to portray safe sex
practices has been made.  If you have any comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com.


The next morning I went to see a neighbor who had recently retired as Dean
of Faculty at the University of Central Virginia. At least half of the
actors were graduates of UCV. Dean Doveton knew just about all there was to
know about the school.

I told him about the poison pen letters. He knew all about it.  Actually he
knew nothing about it, but there had been a previous outbreak in the Drama
Department in the Art School.

"No one mentioned that," I said.

"It was eight years ago. There have been two generations of students since
then,"Dean Doveton said.  "We worked hard to keep it out of the news.  It
was embarrassing and the people who got the letters kept it quiet.  There
were slashed tires and a smoke bomb or two. Nasty business."

"Can you give me details?"

Dean Doveton was quiet as he thought it over.  "I'll tell you all I know if
you use only what is necessary. It could still be embarrassing," he said.
"The letters accused faculty members of having homosexual relations with
their students, orgies as well. The students got letters accusing them of
seducing their teachers.  The letters said they would give this information
to the newspapers and to the General Assembly.  The letters to the students
said they would tell their parents."

"The parents didn't know the sexual preferences of their kids?"

"The parents never know," Dean Doveton said. "A good portion of the
recipients weren't gay. One male faculty member had been disciplined for
getting too close to a female student. The man was a flaming heterosexual.
The letters were nasty and shocking, very ugly. There was one attempted
suicide attempt. A young student took an overdose. She was terrified her
parents would disown her."

"Did you find out who sent the letters?"

"Not exactly. Several of the principal players left Richmond and the
letters stopped," he said. "It could have been either of them or one of
their devotees. We were so relieved they stopped, we didn't do anymore
investigation."

"Did you find out what generated the problem?"

"Do you know Professor Kirkland from Art History?" the Dean asked, "He was
the faculty member who investigated the problem. He wrote a confidential
report. He can give you all the details." I had met him several years
earlier. It had been in a social situation. The Dean called him and clued
him in. he was free after three that afternoon.  I was to meet him at
Professor Kirkland's apartment.

Rehearsals started at 7:00 so I had time.

Kirkland was a 60 year old giant, at least six feet four. We had met in a
mutual friend's hot tub. He was as well endowed as me. I might have been a
little longer and he was a little thicker. Mine looks bigger because of my
undersized body. Kirkland and I traded size queen stories. He lived in a
downtown high rise apartment.

When I got there he greeted me warmly and then introduced me to his partner
Stanford. Stanford maybe ten years younger than Kirkland.  He was a
businessman dressed in a suit and tie. Kirkland was every inch a professor
and he gave me a well prepared lecture on the poison pen event.

"The former chairman, Gustave Schmidt was fired after a policy dispute with
the Dean.  Schmidt was tenured, so he remained on the faculty even though
he was no longer the chair. He came to believe he was the victim of a
homosexual plot to remove him from power and to replace him with a gay
man."

"How does a guy who doesn't like gays get to be a chairman of a drama
department?"  I asked.

"That's not at all clear," Kirkland said, "He never had any problems with
gay faculty before.  Schmidt wasn't able to admit his own actions had
anything to do with losing his position. I think he searched for scapegoat
and found the gay members of his faculty available.  He had supporters
too. They were jokingly referred to as Gustav's Groupies."

"In Gustav's defense, several of the female groupies were troubled. All
were unmarried and had no boyfriends. Like Gustav they couldn't believe
they personally had any responsibility for their lack of success at love."

"Ugly as sin?" I asked.

"I interviewed most of them always with my secretary in attendance. She
thought the main problem was shitty attitude. They had a chip on their
shoulders the size of Texas," Kirkland said. "Gustav had one major failing.
He was an amateur mental health counselor. When a student had a problem, he
wanted to help them himself. Some needed professional help. That might have
been related to the letters."

Kirkland gave me the low down on the incident. The combination of metal
illness and revenge could easily result in poison pen letters.

"Do you remember the Globe Theater Project of three, or four years ago?"
Stanford asked.  He had been sitting and listening.

"I vaguely recall the name," I said.

"It made a big splash but it's first production crashed and burned,"
Stanford asked. "There was a very public airing of dirty linen after that.
As I recall the man playing Hamlet was mugged. I think the stage manager
was the victim of a hit and run driver too. It struck me as odd that two
members of the company were crime victims. Statistically improbable."

"Are you an accountant by any chance?" I asked.

"I work for the state in statistical analysis," Stanford explained. "I work
in crime statistics."

"I'll check on that," I said. We talked for a while and I got ready to
leave.

"Catfish I remember our last meeting," Kirkland said, "You made an
impression on me. I told Stanford about you and he was impressed.  Stanford
has an interest in .  .  ."

"Size?"  I filled in the missing word.

"Are you offended?" he asked.

"Not at all," I said. "Would you be offended if I said I have an interest
in willing bottoms?"

"It looks to me like this might be everyone's lucky day," Stanford
said. "Let's adjourn to the bedroom."

"Is this all right with you?" I asked of Kirkland.

He smiled.  "I have an interest in size too," he said. "I promised
Standford if I ever found a cock as big as mine I'd bring it home.  Oh, I
said I'd bring the guy who possessed the cock home too!"

"That's a relief," I said. We stripped. Kirkland put on a porn DVD.
Stanford of average height and weight, bald and hairy.  He was also very
interested. Kirkland was bald and hairy too. He put his arm around my
shoulders and stroked the hair on my back.  Stanford got on his knees and
sucked us both. We were both uncut and soft. . I hadn't run into a skin
fancier in a while. Stanford liked foreskin and was into it.

Skin fanciers only have a short window of opportunity.  The better they
suck the shorter the time they have to play.  Stanford was evenhanded and
our knobs pushed free of the skin at about the same time. I had thought his
was thicker and mine was longer, but up close and fully aroused, it wasn't
clear. He had a big mushroom head, flared and purple-pink. It was almost
iridescent. His slit was wide and already moist.

I must admit Stanford was genuinely enthusiastic about my cock.

"I'd love to suck your cock," I said to Kirkland. We rearranged
ourselves. Kirkland sat on the edge of the bed. I sucked him as Stanford
scooted under me to do his part. We all got excited.

"Are you sure you want to see my cock in Stanford's ass?" I asked.

"I'm kind of turned on by it," he said. "I'm a bit of a size queen myself.
Would you mind if I opened Stanford up first?"

"Be my guest, anything that makes it easier is fine with me," I said.
"I'll lubricate him for you, if you want?" Kirkland smiled. Stanford sucked
on Kirkland's cock as I opened his ass.

"How often do you get fucked?" I asked.

"Four or five times a week," Stanford said.  "Unless I get lucky, that is."

"You're real tight for an ass which is so experienced," I said. "Do you
ever trade places?"

"I like to bottom, but not as much as Stanford likes it." Kirkland said. "
He use to fuck me, but the more I fuck him the more he wants to be fucked."
I had two fingers in Stanford's ass. It was clear his prostate was a major
sex organ for him. With one hand in Stanford's hole, I used my other hand
to coat his lover's cock with lube.

Stanford laid back and hoisted his legs, Kirkland grabbed the legs and
spread them wide. The hole was wide open and defenseless. A second later
Kirkland's cock head was nuzzled in the juicy ass.  A bottle of poppers sat
on the side table. I got them ready.

The older man bounced a few times and slowly pushed his huge knob into the
tight hole. I got the bottle. Kirkland smiled. I opened the poppers and
gave Stanford a snort. He shivered and his partner's purple knob vanished
into his love tunnel.  A few minutes later he was fully impaled in the huge
cock, and was loving it.

After the slow entry the pace picked up. Kirkland evolved from a slow and
easy lover to a man rammer. Stanford's eyes rolled back into his head and
he zoned out.

"Damn, I was getting carried away," Kirkland said as he pulled away. He
left his head in the ass. You could tell both men loved the sexual
connection. I could also tell Kirkland was having a hard time pulling out.
Several times he pulled away, but he never pulled the head out.

"Cum is a great lubricant," I said.

"You don't mind sloppy seconds?" Kirkland asked.

"Not it all," I said. "Do you mind if I shoot my load in Stanford's ass
too?"

"Please!" Stanford moaned. Kirkland smiled and fucked hard.  I gave both
men the bottle of poppers. It was only a few strokes later when he popped.
I lubricated my cock as Kirkland ejaculated. Stanford's ass was dilated
when Kirkland finally pulled out. I could see into the love tunnel and the
glistening man seed. I was ready to move in.

Remarkably by the time my knob was at his ass, it had closed up. I knew his
sphincter had been stretched wide by Kirkland not once, but maybe hundreds
of times. Still, his ass was tight and resisted my entry. I had the poppers
in my hand and gave it to Stanford. My head was in on the next thrust and
half my shaft slid in on the next.

It was as if Stanford was hit by an electric jolt. I was still and let him
adjust to my cock. He began to rotate his hips.  I push the rest of my cock
up his chute. The cum filled tunnel shivered as I went deep. Stanford was
moaning and gasping for air.  When he caught his breath he was a welcoming
and active bottom. I enjoyed it, but there was no way I could have enjoyed
it as much as Stanford.

After about ten minutes, Kirkland tapped me on the shoulder and went in for
a second time. He and I traded places a few times over the next hour. We
did Stanford doggy style a few times too. The last time I fucked him, I was
thinking poor Stanford was looking a bit frayed.  My cock took mercy on him
and I had a top of the line orgasm. It was both long and pleasurable. The
warm cream inside his raw ass did the trick for Stanford. He shot off too.

Kirkland would need to change the sheets and wash off the wall, after that
one. It was lovely. I pulled out and licked up some of Stanford sperm to
help out a little. I had to get to the rehearsal so I got dressed.

"Do you ever bottom?" Kirkland asked me as we went to the door.

"Sometimes."

"I do too. I've never been fucked by anyone as big as you," Kirkland said.

"You're curious?" I asked.  He nodded.

"Maybe we could do this again," he observed. "It was better than I had
guessed for Stanford and for me."

"I'd like that," I said. "I'm curious too."

The rehearsal was a bit anti climatic after the visit to Kirkland and
Stanford, but it was productive.

We rustics did a run through of our first scene. Santa was
spectacular. Fred was made for the over the top role like Bottom.

One of my fellow Rustics was a handsome young man named Danny. He played
Snug, the joiner. Snug played the lion and had even fewer lines than
me. Danny had a knack for turning his face into a vacant expression,
turning from a lively boy into a dolt.  He also had a knack for
slapstick. I wondered why he hadn't been selected for one of the romantic
roles.  He was bearded and had a hairy chest.

Robert, the actor was playing Flute played Thisbe, the heroine of the play
within the play.  He complained the role was beneath him, but read his
lines. He had lots of lines compared to the rest of us rustics, other than
Fred.  He was the only one of the rustics to be unenthusiastic. As we
rehearsed the two queens, Bruce and Mark, who were playing Hermia and
Helena seemed to be on the edge of outright war. Charlie kept on giving
them disapproving glances. They got the message.

The dwarfs had warned me about Bruce and Mark. Both men were handsome in a
1930s lounge lizard way. By my way of thinking they weren't handsome enough
to be that unpleasant.

Fred moved on from his rehearsal with us, to his transformation into an ass
accomplished by a magic potion. Quite frankly I'm not much into magic
potions and this part of the play seemed foolish. Fred was spectacular and
turned the scene into a rolling on the floor it was so funny event. He
subtly introduced donkey mannerisms and characteristics that accomplished
the transformation without costumes.

The big love scene between Bottom, now transformed into an ass, and
Hippolita, queen of a fairies, played by Samuel the dwarf was
wonderful. Hippolita was a victim of another potion that made her fall in
love with the first person she saw. Samuel, was perfect in the role of the
love struck Queen. I didn't know how close the two men were off stage, but
it was both comic and oddly believable.

Off to the side a man I didn't know was taking with Charlie. The
conversation got animated as the scene came to an end.

"I don't know why anyone would seriously consider regurgitating a
meaningless old warhorse like this," the man said. "We need modern plays
that speak to our age!" I couldn't hear Charlie's response.

"It's a weak play any way and you're pandering to cheap emotions. My god,
using dwarfs and rednecks!" The man was getting worked up.

"Some people think Shakespeare has held up well," Charlie said.

"The redneck costume looks like shit and you need to find a make up artist
who isn't demeaning to rednecks," he said looking directly at me.

"It ain't no costume, mister," I said. He turned bright red and the cast
burst into laughter. He man left the stage.

"Who is that asshole?" I asked.

"He's Milton Hammerly, the theater critic of the newspaper." Charlie said.

"You should have punched him in the nose," David said.

"Shit," I said. "If I punched every asshole I meet in the nose I'd hurt my
knuckles." The rehearsal was over. Danny asked if I like to go out for a
beer and a sandwich. That was fine with me. Bruce and Samuel tagged along
as did the quiet guy who played Demetrius, Henry.  We went to a small
restaurant nearby. I had a beer and ordered a burger.

Apparently Milton was not a particularly favorite critic. Bruce said you
needed to have a roll in the hay to get a good review out of him. "He likes
young men he can help with his career. I'm not that picky, but Milton is
scum."

"I'm pleased you draw the line somewhere, Henry said. "I've heard if you
ran into a well hung amoeba, you'd give it a try."

"Absolutely untrue!" Bruce protested in a good humored way. "People spread
lies about me. I wouldn't give an amoeba a second look. Unless it was
incredibly well hung." Without his rival Mark present Bruce was good
natured and funny. He complimented Samuel on his acting ability.

"It was hard to believe you weren't in love with Bottom," Bruce said.

"Well, he is a lovable ass," Samuel replied. "How are you going to play
Hermia?"

"I was thinking about using Annette as my model," Bruce replied. As they
talked I saw a pretty big scar on Henry's arm.  He noticed I was looking at
it.

"Motorcycle accident?" I asked.

"A chance meeting with a car," Henry replied.

"Chance my foot!" Bruce interjected.  "It was hit and run and I've never
believed it was an accident."

"Were you the guy in Hamlet?" Danny asked.

"I was strictly behind the scenes in that play," Henry said. "I'd rather
not talk about it."

"I was strictly a spear carrier in that mess," Bruce said. "Henry deserves
the Purple Heart and the Medal of Honor for trying to keep the thing
together."

"What are you guys talking about?" Samuel asked.

"It's a long story and need to get my beauty sleep, lord knows," Bruce
said. "But I will tell you every thing when I have the time."  I took them
men to there apartments, since I was the only one with a car. I got the
impression several of them were relived to get a ride.