Date: Sun, 13 Mar 2011 04:43:37 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Catfish goes to School 8

Catfish Goes to School 8

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 guys settled down to plain old free-for-all sex. I had very publicly
and successfully fucked Newton and I wondered if anyone else would step up
to the plate. I knew they were all curious, but there is a gap between
curiosity and opening your ass for my cock.

Newton had sucked and fucked his way into the club and was as happy as he
could be. He was in deep conversation with Jason. I was on the bed with
Harvey and a guy named Dewey. I massaged their prostates and talked.

"How did the Honey & Cream Society come into existence?" I asked.

"Well, it's not an officially sanctioned club of St. Thomas's, as you may
have guessed," Dewey said. "Joey and Jason hooked up first.  Joey's parents
owned this house.  They are loaded.  Jason ran into me and we have added
new members when we find someone."

"I'm the most recent addition until Newton," Harvey said. "I knew Dave."

"Is Gerald the only adult who hits on boys at the school?"

"Yes, as far as I can tell," Dave said. "Some may be into it, but they are
careful to avoid the potential for problems.  I guess if anyone knows of
any funny business, it would be us."

"We are all, wealthy, well educated at risk kids here," Harvey said, "Most
of us have absentee parents, or our parents have remarried so many times we
can't remember who is the stepmother du jour. The school provides a quiet,
dependable and orderly place. Sucking off a teacher is not part of the
scheme."

"But sucking a fellow student is?"

"As long as it's done privately its fine," Dave said. "Some guys are anti
gay, but that is more in public than after the lights are out. They say gay
sex is ritualized in some English schools.  That is not true here.  It's
purely private at St. Thomas's."

By now my fingers gentle massage of the boys' prostates had an
effect. Dewey's nut turned rock hard and shot off, Roman candle style. Joel
was watching and he took it.

"Leave some for me!" Harvey exclaimed. He leaned over and shared the creamy
man seed. Dewey twitched as Harvey's lips touched his cock. They were
close. Joey was bent over and his ass was open. In this group that wasn't
by accident.  I quickly lubricated my cock and nosed it in the open
orifice.

I wasn't horny, but I wanted to see how he would react to taking my
dong. He tensed up for a second or two and then relaxed. Relax isn't t he
right word, he opened. First time bottoms are often told to pretend they
are talking a shit to accommodate the invader. That is exactly what Joey
did.  When I saw what he was doing, I took the invitation and went for the
gold.

Unless I was very mistaken, he had lubricated his love chute well. My curly
pubic hairs tickled his ass ring a second later. I went way deep. He was
winded and dazed, but not in pain at all. The rest of the club gathered
around to watch and encourage.

"Do some long strokes and see what he does," Jason suggested. "Damn, that's
hot!"

"Let's let him catch his breath first," I said. "He's dazed now. I want him
to know what's going on."  Jason told me Joey rarely bottomed.

"He has such a small hole, I didn't guess he would be able to take it,"
Dave said. Joey squeezed his sphincter, so I made a jiggling motion. He
moaned. After making a few two or three inch thrusts, he relaxed some. I
had found the groove. I eventually got him on his back and spread eagled.

"Damn, I've never seen anyone so naked," Newton said.

"Naked men have so secrets," I said. "My cock is not a toy; it's a tool
that goes deep and messes with your mind as well as your ass. If you like
to look calm, cool and collected with every hair in place don't fuck with
me. I like it hot, sweaty and no holds barred."  Joey popped just then and
I pulled out.

Jason saw the open hole and slipped in as I exited. My dong had dilated
Joey's hole so it was easy. As soon as Joey's sphincter clamped on Jason's
cock, Jason moaned and began to shiver and shake. Jason had very vocal
ejaculations.  Joey had an almost angelic smile on his face and his final
ejaculations merge with Jason's spurts.

"Did you shoot off?" a young man I hadn't been introduced to asked me. He
had been one of the first to shoot in Newton's mouth, but had hung around
in the background mostly.  He watched but didn't talk.

"Not yet," I answered. "I don't need to cum, but if anyone wants to take my
cock for a spin, I won't object. What's your name, by the way?"

"I'm Sam, Samuel Dunnington Smith III."

"Is the third important," I asked.

"To my Dad it is," he said while smiling slightly. "He wanted a male
heir. Unfortunately, he didn't have any interest in having a child. He was
married just long enough to have an heir and get custody." Sam was a bland
looking young man with a runner's body. It turned out I was wrong about
that; he had a swimmer body. The men were all twinks except for Harvey. Sam
was actually furry from head to toe, but you couldn't see it. His hair was
so blond it was all but white. I reached out and fondled his cock. It was
long and thin. He was uncut, but the skin was pulled back.  His knob was
pretty and pink.

"Is your dad into men?" I asked.

He nodded. "One of his playmates introduced me to man sex. I was a pretty
boy and they all liked me."

"Was it bad?"

"I wasn't attracted to him at all, but it wasn't terrible," Sam replied. "I
was pleased by the attention. It's sad when you are willing to have sex
with a guy just to connect with anyone other than a paid servant. The guy
got me in St. Thomas'. He was one of Dad's big time clients, and Dad sent
me here to please him."

"That sounds pretty odd," I remarked.

"Well, Freddy was an old guy and very drunk when he fucked me.  When he
woke up the next morning, he was in shock when he realized what he had
done. I know they all claim to be drunk, and didn't know what they were
doing, but I believe him. He was in tears begging me forgiveness. I still
see him and he has never laid a finger on me since. I've never seen him
with boy. He had his own sons and they are close," Sam said. "He warned me
about Gerrald. He knows about him and didn't like what he heard."

"Gerald seems to be a famous man," I observed.

"Freddy says Gerald inherited everything he had and still thinks he's a
self made man. He tries to run things but you get tired of him real
quickly. Apparently now he just makes his own organizations, and is the
only member, so he sure to be the Chairman of the Board."

Sam went off to talk with Joey and Harvey joined me. He seemed nervous and
I guessed he wanted to try out my cock. "Do you think it will fit?" I asked
him.

"Are you a mind reader?" he asked. "I don't know if it will fit. I'm afraid
you would get in half way and it will hurt too much.  You could split me in
half."

"I've never ripped anyone in half yet," I replied. "To tell you the truth I
hate getting half way in and having a guy change his mind, but I could make
an exception for you."

"Are you serious about that?"

"I am," I explained. "You are my type, I wouldn't mind giving you a tune
up, changing all your fluids and maybe a buff and shine." Harvey didn't
exactly say he would take my cock, but when I took the lead, he followed. I
had fingered his ass good shortly before and I knew his prostate was in
working order. I figured if his my cock head could just meet the little
gland, all would be well. His ass tensed up the second my knob touched it.

I just added some lubricant to my head and kept the pressure up. "Did Geald
get you?" I asked.

"Nope, he likes them more boyish than me," Harvey said. "I was hairy even
in my sophomore year, so I was out of his comfort zone. A friend of his got
me though."

"Who was that?" I asked.

"I was a guy called the Priest. He was Gerald's spiritual advisor," Harvey
said. "He use to lecture here a few times a year.  He lived in Bryn Mawr
near my parents. Rev. Wilmot Duquesne wasn't my cup of tea, but I was
desperate to have sex with someone.  I was supposed to be doing a special
study project with him and I had to drop it off at the school guest house
where he was staying. He was showering and the rest you can guess. I will
say he definitely did not apologize afterwards."

"Was he abusive?" I asked.  "Other than getting his rocks off with an
underage boy?"

Harvey smiled. "He wasn't big enough to be that abusive," he replied. As he
said that, he relaxed and my knob popped his sphincter. He moaned and said,
"Shit, you're big!"

"Am I too big?" I asked. I pulled out, added some lubricant and went back.

"That's better," he whispered.

"My cock head is in you. We can stop here, or I can go deeper," I
said. "The choice is yours." I didn't push any deeper, but maintained the
pressure.  If he relaxed I would ease in. Dave came over.

"Damn, aren't you the brave one?" he said.  He flopped is soft cock on
Harvey's lips and tweaked his tits. Harvey relaxed and my cock slid in deep
enough to ram his prostate. He had lost his erection when I popped his
sphincter. Now he was fully erect again. I rubbed my cock head against the
little gland and Harvey's eyes glazed.  He was moaning in pleasure. A
second later, his ass lost all desire to resist. I pulled out so only the
drooling tip of my cock was at his hole, the made a deep trust. He growled.

 He didn't resist, but his ass was still firm and it was a tight fit. His
ass linings were shrink-wrapped to my cock. You can't get any closer to a
man than fucking him, but Harvey and I bonded.  It was as if his ass wanted
to swallow my cock and keep me in him.  I had lubricated him well, so no
matter how hard he tried to grab my cock, I could still fuck.

I hoped for a long ride, we were both willing and eager, but wild and crazy
sex is always self limiting. I had a lot of activity with Newton and Joey
but was still fully loaded. That changed in a split second. I was surprised
my man seed wasn't spurting out of his mouth I shot so much. He popped too
and our audience all got a party favor of his sperm. I tend to shoot
ribbons of sperm; Harvey shot like bird shot from a shotgun. Everyone one
was sprayed.

I had to leave, but the rest of them men settled down for a long night of
orgasms. As I walked home Calhoun drove by. I gave him the name of our
mystery priest, Rev. Wilmot Duquesne from Bryn Mawr. That was most
welcome. I walked around school grounds and saw nothing amiss. All was
well.

I called my office the next morning, asked them to check the priest, and
called the Reverent Mr. Herbert. His only comment was, "Oh him." I planned
to meet Wilda-beast and fill him on Gerald III's activities. That didn't
happen. The Beast suffered a major heart attack that morning. Needless to
say, I was suspicious as were the police.  The local doctors knew their
stuff and it was genuine.  He had high blood pressure, and everyone knew
the stress of recent days. I was the only one who knew just how much stress
he was under.

Wilda-beast thought he could control Gerald III, but he misunderstood the
full extent of Gerald's problems.  The man was sick and seemed to be an
equal opportunity sex-abuser. Wilda-beast stopped the abuse of boys, but
had no idea there was a problem with girls. He was unaware of the Cranmer
society. He though he had a caged lion, but had just discovered there was a
secret, unlocked gate in the rear of the cage.

The Beast wasn't a man to make excuses, or deny the situation. He had
royally fucked up. He would have done anything necessary to correct the
situation, but the heart attack intervened. The leadership of the school
passed to the second in command, Martin Hazel. He was a bean
counter. Mrs. Putney told me the school was all but leaderless.

We had the last week of the session events this week, the art show, a
poetry reading, the play and a concert.  This was a golden opportunity for
anyone who was trying to discredit or embarrass the school. I decided to
call in a few more operatives to keep an eye on the place.  My sculptor
operative, Gus, came to help with the Art Show.  He posed as Anton's pal
and came to do the heavy lifting. One of my newer operatives came to
Randall posing as a magazine writer doing an article on older prep schools
in the modern age. Phillip was an English major and was very convincing. He
was doing both schools, so he could watch over St. Thomas' School.

I called my old friend Wally Jones and asked if he could attend the musical
events. He didn't work for me, but he was sharp as a tack.  He was the
organist of the wealthiest Episcopalian church in Richmond, and a well
known and respected musician.  He was much into Episcopalian politics and
had that base covered. He also knew about the Cranmer society and was
willing to do battle with them.

Wally knew St. Cecelia's choir leader, Ms Willis.  She had a problem with
stage freight and Wally offered to be a guest conductor. She accepted that
proposal with enthusiasm. His first rehearsal with the girls was
electrifying. I don't think they knew they could sing that well.

In the bad news department, Gerald Milland III was in town and taking
Martin Hazel under his ring. I heard him saying, "Don't worry, I know the
way this place works."  Hazel looked as if he believed that. I asked
Jeffry, the science teacher about Hazel.

"Martin is a natural second in command.  He's good about the nitty-gritty
of administrative details. When he reads a report, he corrects the
grammar. I don't think he had any interest in policy. He's not a bad man,
but he is limited," Jeff explained. "His big problem is that he doesn't see
the forest for the trees."

That night I sat on my porch overlooking the school. As dusk fell I got an
feeling of unease. I had binoculars and saw a glowing red dot in a bush. I
assumed someone had forgotten to recharge their cell phone. I decided to
investigate. It was a five-minute walk and I made it in three. The little
light was still glowing. It was getting dark, but I could tell there was a
male figure hidden in a bush, a large male figure.

He saw me and bolted. I let out a yell and chased him. "Who in Hell are
you?" I cried. He was faster than I would have thought, but soon I had a
number of girls armed with hockey and lacrosse sticks as well as a few golf
clubs on the hunt with me. He ran into a wooded area. I heard a engine
start and race away.  I didn't even see the vehicle.

The Randall police arrived a minutes or two later.  There had been an
accident on Main Street and they had all been there.  The man had
completely vanished. Calhoun and the Police Chief were pissed.

I walked back to my rooms above the garage. It was then I realized the man
had been under the new Sikh girl's room. I also remembered Gerald Milland
III had a taste for young, oriental women. The girl was 14, small and
delicate. She was almost doll like.

The next morning I saw Melissa and told her of my worries. Melissa said she
would make sure the girl was accompanied at all times. The man hanging
around the girls' dorms spooked the Police Chief.  There was a police car
near the school at all times, and the Sherriff had deputies much in
evidence. Later that morning there was a brief upset.

Martin Hazel decided not to allow St. Thomas's students to participate in
the St. Cecelia's events. He said it was too dangerous for them. That would
have ended the play, and ruined the choral events. St. Thomas's provided
the basses and baritones. I suspected Gerald was behind this move. Board
members from both the schools appeared to address the situation.

Later I found out while most St Thomas's board members were opposed to the
move, but Gerald was a loudmouth and a bully. At two o'clock in the
afternoon, they adjourned without making a decision, planning to reconvene
after dinner.

At six St. Cecelia's brought in the heavy artillery. Actually, it was Wally
Jones who called for reinforcements; he had called his friend the
Bishop. The Bishop and several members of his staff arrived. They visited
Mrs. Putney and Douglass, then went to St Thomas's. They had several boxes
of files, and I was sent along with them as a porter. As I left Mr. Putney
whispered I was to stay near the Bishop at all times. I was to be his
bodyguard.

At the meeting the Bishop was quite mild mannered, but Gerald questioned
his authority, and deeply offended the man. The bishop had his lawyer with
him and the lawyer discovered the board served at the pleasure of the
Bishop, and individual members and indeed the full board could be removed
at his will. Apparently, the charter said they could be removed, with or
without cause and without legal recourse. The Bishop was what a friend of
mine called scary calm.  He was firmly in control, but obviously enraged.

Gerald said he was a life member of the board. The Bishop said he was no
longer a member and should leave the room and the school campus
immediately.  Gerald refused. In an odd coincidence, the board room door
opened and you could see Calhoun and two other policemen were in the
waiting room. Gerald left and the policemen followed him.

The bishop resumed his mild mannered ways, and asked if they was any more
discussion. "I would only say that St. Thomas's and St. Cecelia's have been
mutually supportive for years, and I would hate to see this relationship
injured in any way," he remarked. The board voted unanimously to continue
to participate with St. Cecelia's.

Afterwards Bishop went to Martin Hazel and calmed down the shaken man. "I
place no blame on you for this unfortunate event, Martin," he said, "You
received bad advice from a senior board member. This was your first day
after the heart attack. It was perfectly natural for you to accept his
advice."

The Bishop and a member of his staff helped Martin get control. Students
were gathered in front of the building and the Bishop said the cooperation
with St. Celaya's would remain as it had been. The students cheered and
applauded. He then said a payer for Wilda-beast, and left. He did leave the
Reverend Mr. Herbert as an advisor to Mr. Hazel.

That night I got together with Calhoun, Gus, Wally and Philip at Jeff's
house. Al joined us. Clem was working in North Carolina. We agreed it was
going to be a bad week. There was too much temptation for whoever was
attacking the school.  Gerald Milland III was under surveillance by the
police. They had him wiretapped.  Wally told us the Diocese was going after
the Cranmer Society, and had established Gerald was the paymaster and the
lead about the Rev. Wilmot Duquesne had been fruitful.

"As of now, it looks likely that the Cranmer society may be Milland and one
or two flunkies. Duquesne is almost certainly one of them, but there may be
others," Wally reported. "I don't think Duquesne is violent.  Our friend
from Pennsylvania fancies himself as a new St. Paul, not a hit man."

"There was a car from Pennsylvania with a odd looking guy in it at and
Quick-Stop," Al said in his stammering voice. I though the guy was in a
disguise."

"Did you get a license number?" Calhoun asked.

Al pulled a little pad from his pocket. "It was a 1996 Volvo, dark blue
with serious rust," he said. "I have the license." Calhoun called in the
number.

Philip reported the students thought there were students involved, but had
no idea whom.  "Why do they think that?" I asked.

"Some of the incidents reflect in depth knowledge of the student lives,"
Philip said. "They think only a student would know how important the art
portfolios were. To an outsider they were just drawings by modestly
talented kids.  To several of the students they were key to getting into
art school.  Only a student would know that."

Al told us the word in the lower tiers of the Redneck world, there was a
man around town who liked his playmates young. "You know when one of those
guys says young, he's not talking 15 or 16. A 16 year old is an old maid
for them. The guy was vague and I haven't quite tracked it down, but
someone knows there is a molester out there."

"How do you find out these things?" Calhoun asked.

"Everyone thinks I'm a retard so it doesn't make any difference what they
say near me," Al said. I mentioned the incident at near the young girl's
room.

"The guy who was talking mentioned the guy likes them all, even dark meat,"
Al added. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. I decided to get Sally on
the girl's hall if I could.

"A rape this week with all the visitors and parents here would be a
disaster," Jeff said. "I wonder if that is the plan?" I wondered the same.

After a half hour of conversation, we were all clearly on the same page. Of
course, I knew we were all on the same page sexually too, but my new
friends from Randall didn't know my friends from Richmond. I wondered how
well the group's Gaydar was working. As the group began to break up, it was
clear the Gardar was in perfect working order.

"Would anyone like a glass of wine?" Jeffry asked. Calhoun was in duty and
had to leave.  Not surprisingly, everyone else was willing. We broke up
into two groups. Gus and Philip went to Jeffry like an iron filing to a
magnet. I looked at Jeffery. He looked as if he had died and gone to
heaven. He liked the attention of the two young, handsome men.

Wally and I were with Al.  Wally was interceded in the small man's speech
impediment. He was engaged in an experiment using song to overcome the
problem. I thought that might offend Al, but Wally was an affable and
friendly man.  We told him of our own experiments using anal sex to solve
the problem. We went to Al's house for a demonstration.

Wally and I are old friends. We were never lovers, but the friendship was
never strictly platonic either. Wally's interest in Al wasn't platonic
either.  He was attracted to the small man. I don't think Al was Wally's
type until Wally stripped. Wally was well a well-educated, wealthy,
cultured and slightly flamboyant type. Al was as unlike that as a man could
be. Naked Wally was a caveman, a well-hung caveman. That did ring Al's
chimes.

Wally wasn't a watcher either. He sampled Al's cock before Al had a chance
to suck him. We traded places a few times, and then got down to
business. Al rimmed me as Wally sucked him and then we had a spit
lubricated fuck. As before Al's stutter vanished as his cock slid in my
ass.

Wally was dumbfounded. He was working with a group of speech pathologists
at a local University. No one had used sex to cure the problem. He asked Al
to sing. Al had a beautiful baritone voice with no trace of stammer.

Remarkably, Wally wanted to take my place. He was normally all-top.  We
traded places and Al slid in without effort. I watched as they
connected. Both men loved it. Al told us that Clem had found a job in North
Carolina with a NASCAR team. He would be leaving. The house was Clem's so
Al was soon be alone.

A little later Al was on his back with Wally's oak tree style cock in his
ass. It was beautiful, a perfect fit. Wally dumped a full load of his man
seed in Al's ass. Al had done the same to me and to Wally. It was a good
night.