Date: Thu, 8 Aug 2013 19:03:44 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Catfish Finds Old Gold 3

Catfish Finds Old Gold 3
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

The next day was productive.  Bill and his crew removed a good part of the
wall and we finally had easy access to the interior of the vault.  Captain
Billy delivered two generators and other equipment to the island. We were
all excited when we finally broke through. Then excitement
stopped. Livingston had agreed the site was a crime scene. The forensic
team was waiting and the Richmond Police took charge. Our work was done
until they investigated the bodies.

Captain Miller did confirm the floor of the cave was paved in gold
ingots. Each ingot weighed about twenty pounds. I did a quick calculation
in my head and figured each was worth $400,000.00 or so. There had to be
well over a thousand of them. Four hundred million was a tidy sum.

Livingston sent the archaeological team home except for Wilbur. His skills
with skeletons were still needed. I sent my people home too.  Regular
police patrols were needed now and my staff people needed a rest.

Some things happened off the island.  The chatter on the Civil War sites
had greatly increased. Some seemed to know something big was afoot. My
geezers didn't think they knew exactly what had been found but there were
suspicions. My top geezer, Jarvis Malloy, had focused on two groups. Jarvis
was a retired ATF investigator and he had a nose for trouble. One group
called itself the SOS. That was either the Sons of the South or the Saviors
of the South.

The SOS was militantly states' rights. They were anti-constitution and felt
each state could define its own Bill of Rights and determine its own rules
for citizenship. They did not feel the Federal government had the right to
collect taxes or have a treasury. It was run by a real estate executive,
Wilson Woodrow. He lived in Buckingham County, a rural area outside of
Richmond. He was a known "gun collector" and lived in an estate called the
Compound.

A second group was the White Legion. It was a militia group founded to
protect us against them. They never said who "them" was but everyone knew.
Jarvis thought they were officially anti-communist, but they seemed to
believe Spanish speaking people were all Cuban agents, as were blacks, Jews
and most Catholics. Their leader was Billy-Boy Jones. "Reading between the
lines, I think they would be happy reinstating slavery with a few
extermination camps for troublemakers," Jarvis said. "Their headquarters is
just over the border in West Virginia. Both groups place a great emphasis
on financing and on the government stealing their rightful income through
taxes."

"Normally, that emphasis is actually on enhancing the income of the
leader," Jarvis explained. "I assume that is the case here, but they are
secretive."

"How big are they?" I asked.

"I think the SOS has perhaps 100-200 heavily armed members. The Legion may
have a hundred," Jarvis said. They claim thousands, but that is based on
the hits their web sites receive. The web counter said they had 175,000 or
so hits and that happens to be the claimed membership."

"Are they dangerous or just whacky?"

"That is the question, isn't it? They are ready to repel a Cuban or North
Korean invasion. They see police as enemy agents and would like to see all
political questions answered by force. They are very interested in money
and see themselves as the heirs of the Confederacy," Jarvis said.  "I
admit, this is more of a gut feeling than actual facts. I can smell
something." I told him to keep tracing the two organizations.

I liked the Geezers. I case you thought I was making fun of the old guys,
there were some who thought I was one of them. Somehow, in the last year or
so my beard seems to have turned white. I have a Gabby Hayes look to
me. The white beard makes me look less scary, but no more attractive or
intelligent. I look as if I am well on the high side of 65.

The news that some suspected something was going on was worrisome. It was
the last week of July, the silly season for the news. There was no news to
fill up the hours of programming on the 24 hour news channels. Livingston
was opposed to giving out false information. He felt it undermined the
credibility of his organization. Captain Billy came to the rescue. Billy
could let slip some information that was sort of correct, but not
complete. Billy was talkative and ran into a reporter at a bar.

According to Billy, we had found something an old ruin and some bodies on
the island. He thought they had found and old cemetery near some forgotten
fortifications, or the footings of an old mill. All of that was sort of
correct. There was no mention of murder or of the gold.

When the story got out it seemed to excite the internet people, but it also
seemed to satisfy them. The media went after the medical examiner and the
Richmond Police. Unless immediate public safety was involved, the police
spokeswoman was friendly and completely uninformative. The medical examiner
never gave out any information except at a trial.

Of course, someone else could leak the discovery of the gold. As of now,
while there was considerable interest in the story, there was not so much
as to get in the way of the investigation. If the reporters had been
smarter they would have noticed several law offices were working at night
and on weekends, as was the Attorney General's office. Virginia has a
strong preference for political hacks as the chief legal officer of the
Commonwealth, but some people in the office were bright. All were
researching the legal status of the gold.

I went home to clean up and find out what was going on at my
office. Unexpectedly, I took Wilbur and his assistant, Roger, home with
me. They lived on the Northern Neck, about two hours away. Wilbur needed to
stay nearer Richmond in case he was needed, so I offered my apartment as a
crash pad. Roger was an innocuous man who took notes as Wilbur
investigated. He was the sort of man you ignore.

I live above my office, but it was Saturday and it was quiet. I did have a
rule that my apartment was my home, not an extension of the office. No one
drops in without calling first.

Wilbur was knowledgeable and intelligent. I don't think he was a Civil War
buff, but he was also one of those men who tended to know everything. He
wasn't a know-it-all; he just knew it all. He was not the sort of man you
would want to Play Trivial pursuit with if he was on the other team.

"The official story was that the Confederacy was bankrupt," he said. "In
the winter of 1865 the people were starving.  There had been a famous food
riot two years earlier and by '65, the situation was much more dire. When
they set fire to the warehouses as they evacuated the city, the residents
looted the buildings of food and anything else they could get their hands
on."

"We know they were starving, but why was there so much food in storage?" he
asked rhetorically. "What were they saving it for? Federal troops were six
miles away from the White House of the Confederacy. Richmond was the last
major city of the South not in Federal hands. What were they thinking?"

"Denial is not just a river in Egypt," I said. "Were they delusional?"

"Hitler liked Richard Wagner's operas. In his Ring of the Nibelungen, the
gods find gold, steal it and eventually die rather than return the gold to
the rightful owners. Hitler destroyed Germany, the nation he ruled and
loved, rather than give up his power," Wilbur continued. "The South was
lost, but they still set Richmond on fire to keep supplies from falling
into Union hands. The Union had all the supplies it needed and more. Its
farms produced unlimited food and factories made more weapons than they
needed. It was a modern, industrial nation. The South was already in ruins,
the North was thriving."

"So the question is, why was the South bankrupt with a vault filled with
gold?" I asked.

"I surely is a puzzle," Wilbur said.

"This conversation is interesting, but I need to take a shower. I feel like
I am the inside of a garbage bag," I said.

"We need a shower too," Wilbur said. "May we join you?" Apparently Rodger
and Wilbur were a couple.

"The more the merrier," I said. I didn't expect that, but I'm always
friendly and willing. We adjourned to my shower. My apartment had been
owned by a tile installer. He got stuck with an order his client didn't
like, so my shower is spectacular. It is filled with terra-cotta birds in
brilliant colors. Wilbur was impressed.

Wilbur and Roger weren't shy at all. Apparently getting naked with a man
they had just met was not a problem. It wasn't a problem for me
either. They were an odd couple. Wilbur was a big, strapping fellow with a
hairy chest and uncut meat. Roger was just slightly taller than me, and
every hair was in place.  There wasn't much hair. He shaved his head and
body expect for his pubes. He was cut and his equipment looked over sized
for his small frame. He was staring at my cock with obvious interest.

We showered and cleaned up. Once the utilitarian part of the shower was
finished, we got down to business.

"I heard it through the grapevine you were hung. Actually, Roger heard
it. He's a bit of a size queen. I not, but I don't mind a generously scaled
cock."

"I hope it meets your standards. Are you partners?" I asked.

"We use to be fuck buddies. Somehow over the last ten years it has turned
into something other than that," Wilbur said. "He's a top and I'm a bottom,
but he gets all excited by big ones. His ass turns needy on him. Do you
give free samples?"

"Well, I do admire the romantic approach," I said, "I take it you don't
mind watching him get all excited over a game of prostate tag?"

"I like to see Roger happy," he said. We dried off and went to my bedroom.

I am not that prone to self-criticism.  It seems to me that most people can
take one look at me and see my short comings. My Mom thought I was a pretty
baby and that was enough for me.

It would be nice if when a guy came up to me and said he heard I had a big
cock and asked if I would fuck him, if I said no more often. Truthfully
speaking, it would be nice if I said no just once. If that were to happen,
it wasn't going to be with Wilbur and his pal Roger.

Both Wilbur and Roger were well beyond half-staff when we talked and I am
easily inspired. At one time, I thought that maybe I was doing it out of
charitable instincts.  Perhaps I was a Mother Theresa type with a big
cock. It turns out my abilities at self-delusion aren't that great. Once
there is an erection nearby, the little brain in my cock takes over.

Roger was a trip. He made Woody Allen look like Steve Reeves. Somehow, he
had the look of a man who expected you to slam the door in his face. He
didn't exactly cower, but he came damn close. He had a nice seven incher
with a big knob and I soon discovered he was all but double
jointed. Curiously, he seemed to lose all of his timidity when he was
sexually engaged.

Wilbur was a good looking man, sort of an Indiana Jones-lumberjack sort. He
had a six by six cock. It was a thick ass plug.  Wilbur was masculine, but
all bottom. He was an aggressive bottom. Roger may have been a wimp, but he
was a top. Oddly his interest in big cocks seemed to bring out the bottom
in him.

I told Wilbur I didn't like watchers; he would need to play. I was firm,
but I seemed have been distracted by his erect cock and I dropped to my
knees to sample it. His cock was responsive and almost delicate. The slit
was wide and I licked it. Wilbur was enthusiastic. I later found out Roger
wasn't much into oral sex and he wasn't very good at it. Wilbur bent over
and worked on Roger's meat.

We weren't in a rush and we took our time. I suggested Roger screw Wilbur
and then I would rear end him. They were both enthusiastic about that. They
were essentially monogamous, with a rare threesome.  It wasn't just that I
was hung. I wasn't academic and didn't associate with academics. Wilbur
didn't want his sexual preferences known.  At school there were some who
were willing to trade sexual services for grades.  It was better if
Wilbur's sexual life was unknown.  There was less stress that way. Wilbur
didn't need to worry about me showing up at a departmental party and seeing
me or finding me on a committee with him.

I had scared Roger when he first saw me. He relaxed when he discovered I
wasn't going to eat him for lunch, but a little bit of unease seemed to
excite him.  When I mentioned fucking him as he screwed Wilbur, he got a
glow. From my own experience I knew a double fuck could be anatomically
complicated. I had never encountered a double jointed man before. For all
practical purposes, Roger could get his ass anywhere he wanted.

I am usually not an aggressive top.  A friend of mine described me as a
memorable top. That friend didn't become a regular, but it did like to keep
in touch. Wilbur and Roger liked threesomes in principle, but hadn't had
any particularly successful experiences. Once I discovered Roger liked to
be the filling in a fuck sandwich, we were off to the races.

I sucked Wilbur and his thick tool responded quickly. Once his thick
foreskin retracted, his cock head was delicate and responsive.  His balls
responded too. Once my lips caressed his knob his sex juices began to
flow. For some men that happens only just before the orgasm.  He was ready
from the very start.

Wilbur and I were in the 69 position with his ass on the edge of the
bed. Rodger lifted Wilbur's and spread them wide.  He then nuzzled his cock
in Wilbur's asshole. My bedroom comes equipped with lube.  He toyed with
the hole a little and then pushed. That was when the fun started. It was
clear that Wilbur's hole and Roger's cock were a perfect fit.

Wilbur was one of those men whose cock responded to every stimulus. With
every movement of Roger's cock, Wilbur's cock reacted, either by twitching
or by oozing. Of course, I had a front row and center seat. The view was
great, but the taste was better.  I knew exactly what Wilbur was feeling. I
could tell when Roger's knob rubbed his prostate and that he got more
excited by Roger cock as it was on the way in, than on the way out.

Wilbur loved it when the fuck tool was fully lodged. He tended to twitch on
the quick, hard thrusts and ooze on the slow, deep movements. I was
actually sharing and enjoying Wilbur's reactions. The nice thing about
group play is that there is back up when your playmates shoots off. You
don't need to rest until he recharges.

I seem to have a long fuse and I can work over several men before I pop.
In this case it was more of a shared experience. I was able to look at
Roger's face and I knew he wanted me in his ass. I got off of Wilbur and we
rearranged ourselves.  Roger was on his back and Wilbur sat on his
cock. Roger then pulled his legs up and hooked them in front of his
Wilbur's chest so that Roger's ass was spread wide and open.

I lubricated the opening well. His hole was tight and I wondered it could
accommodate my organ. He was an adult and that was his problem. When I was
younger I tended to bulldoze my cock and ass. I don't do that anymore.  I
need to have my partner enjoying it. Some guys get turned on by a
whimpering playmate. I am not.

Roger jumped when my knob touched his hole.  I pushed gently. A friends of
mine told it wasn't the gentleness of the thrust that was the problem, it
was the size of my cock.  I took my time.

"Add some more lube and push harder," Roger said.  I coated my cock with
more lube and returned to the needy hole. I pushed and tried a little
rotating movement with my hips. I thought a little cork-screw action might
help. My knob vanished and Roger gasped for breath. I added a pumping
movement to the cork-screw. A few minutes later my cock head encountered
his prostate. There wasn't quite enough room for my cock and his prostate
in his tight ass. The tight squeeze was good for him.

My cock seemed to like using his prostate as a punching bag. I had just
progressed beyond his prostate when he shot off in Wilbur's ass. Roger had
an almost convulsive series of ejaculations. There was no way to hide them.
Wilbur disentangled himself from Roger and we pulled apart.

Roger was all but asleep. I was all dressed for the ball, but had just lost
my date. I looked at Wilbur and saw he was still fully erect. Our eyes
met. He had been looking at my organ.

"Let's give it a try," he whispered. He was on the bed; I got behind him
and eased into his ass. I was bigger than he was used to, but Roger had
worked him over and his ass was semen filled.  I pushed it deeper. I was
careful, but it was fine for both of us. He was tight and firm.  He later
told me he hadn't had anyone other than Roger for five years.

It was just friendly at first, but a big cock in a tight ass can only
encourage greater intensity. It was good.  Wilbur asked me to hold
off. "When Roger wakes up, he will want you to breed him," he explained.

"When will he wake up?" I asked.

"It will be twenty or thirty minutes at the most," Wilbur said, "Can you
last that long?"

"I can try, but mistakes and misjudgments happen," I replied. "Is that a
problem?"

"Neither Roger or I would have a problem with anything spurting out of your
cock," he said. We had a nice rectum-cock massage session. When Roger
rejoined us, I upped the intensity level and Wilbur popped.  I pulled out
and returned to Roger's ass.  I got in deep right off the bat and he shot
off as soon as I began squirting my love juice in his ass.

I was up for a day of round robin fucking, but Wilbur took a call.  They
needed him at the Medical Examiner's office.

I had a good lunch and was going to rest, but I turned on the television.
There was a Special Report. "Confederate Treasure found in Downtown
Richmond," was the headline. The word was out.