Date: Mon, 13 Aug 2007 03:21:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Catfish goes to Washington 4 corrected

Catfish Goes to Washington 4
by Bald Hairy Man

If you are underage or if gay sex offends you, Don't read this story.  If
you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com

For the time being, I had an embarrassment of clues. I had a locked room
and some unattractive suspects. Blackmail almost certainly was at the core
of the scheme.  I wasn't sure if money or power was the objective. I didn't
know if Lonnie and his friends were involved, or if they were unwitting
accomplices. I also didn't know if my room was bugged or monitored.

Lonnie had mentioned Tyrone was the club top. I didn't know if he was
serving the staff, or the club members. I hoped I wasn't on a DVD somewhere
with the congressman or the Admiral.  There were too many options, none of
them good.

After my first few days at the club I had an oversupply of sexual partners
and the potential for more.  There were too many people and too many
possibilities. No one dropped by that night so I had some solid thinking
time. I was positive Commander Willamette had been murdered.  He was a
member of a Club that had a room wired for photographs and had a staff that
was willing to satisfy a lonely, closeted gay man's sexual desires.

Johnson, the Admiral, Jack and Conrad were all deeply closeted and any
exposure would ruin their professional lives. They were also culturally
conservative men who hadn't been able to deal with their sexual
preferences. I knew Willamette was wealthy, but had no idea if the other
men were any more than well off financially.

The video set up was elaborate. It was easy to envision someone like Lonnie
trying to get some money from the men, but Lonnie was being paid for his
services any way.  When I spoke with him, he seemed to be satisfied with
the arrangement. There was no way in hell he could have afforded the fancy
computer recording system.

The club manager hadn't impressed me, but he seemed like a worker bee. I
hadn't met DeBoer or Hatfield, but from Roosevelt's description they were
likely suspects. I would have to find some way to meet them.  I got up
early on Sunday morning and went on a long walk. I called into my office as
asked them to look into DeBoer, Hatfield and the America First Foundation.

I went in a Starbuck's hoping an expensive cup of coffee would inspire
me. I don't look like a Yuppie and I think I scared several of the
patrons. "Do you have anything that has double the caffeine," I asked. The
young woman recommended, "Mocha Java, this will grow hair on your chest,"
she remarked. Then she noticed the hair poking out of my shirt. "Sorry
about that," she said when realized what she had said.

"It comes with the territory," I said. I sat at a table and was halfway
through my cup when a loud drunk came in. It was 9:30 in the morning and a
bit too early in my mind to be in that state.  He wasn't a good drunk
either. The young woman who had served me apparently was the manager that
morning, and she went over to the man and asked him to leave.

She was nice, but firm.  The drunk would have nothing of it. He fell
against a table and hit one of the patrons. It was supposed to look like
and accidental blow, but I wasn't sure.

"Time's up," I said in my deepest bass. "You're not welcome here and it's
time to go." The man looked at me, sneered, and said, "Like hell!"

That was the last word he said in the Starbucks. I gave him a sucker punch,
winded him, grabbed him by his belt and tossed him out on the street. A
patrol car passed by and stopped. "Johnny, I told you to stay out of this
area!" a Cop yelled from the car. The drunk ran like a bat out of hell.

"Are you okay, mister?" the cop asked. "Johnny runs a scam."

"Sure, I was just taking the trash out," I said. The cop went chasing
Johnny.

I went back to my cup of coffee. "You get a free refill for that," the
woman said. I also got a brownie that really hit the spot.

"I see you're up to your usual tricks," a voice said.  It was the
Admiral. "How are you doing this morning?"

"Just fine. Feel free to join me," I said and motioned for him to sit at my
table. He was with Jack and a tall man I didn't know. He was about the
Admiral's age, but had a bushy, ginger colored beard. He introduced the man
as Red. They joined me.

"Did kids pick on you as a child?" Red asked in a pronounced Scot's accent.

I smiled, "A few guys tried it once," I said.

"Never twice?"

"Once is one time too many as far as I'm concerned," I said. Red was a
former officer in the Royal Navy and was now a consultant.  We chatted for
a while and the Admiral had to leave.  Jack went off to the men's
room. "Are you the one Jack told me about?" he asked.

"I might be," I said, "I hope it wasn't something bad."

"It wasn't bad at all." Red replied.  "He said there was a lot more to you
than meets the eye."

"Are you a member of the club?" I asked.  Red looked shocked, "the Mandrake
Club?"

Red laughed. "Not enough money and not conservative enough to join that
fine institution," he said. Leaning close to me he added, "I'm a dues
paying member of another club. Perhaps you'd like to join Jack and me for
lunch?"

"Sure, if Jack doesn't mind," I answered. I knew Jack wouldn't mind. Red
had a room at the Watergate Hotel so we took a taxi.

Once we were in the room Red was all business. "This is my only free time
this week, so I'd like to get as much R &R in as possible," he said.

"Are you a watcher, like the Admiral?" I asked.

"To tell you the truth, just watching strikes me as frustrating," Red
said. "I'm a man of action."  To underline that thought, he started to
strip. "I'm not into love, I like sex, hard thrusting, ball busting
sex. There's not much you can do with a cock and an arse that I don't
like." We were all naked by then. He looked me in the eye. "Is Jack the
only bottom here?"

"I tend to top, but I like it all," I said.

Red smiled. "That describes me too," he said. "I've not been popped in a
while, so it may take some doing. Let's play it by ear."

Red said he was into sex, just sex.  It turned out, the three of us really
hit it off. Red was a good fucker, but he was a better lover. He liked his
men young and he liked them hung. Jack and I were his dream lover. Red
wasn't shy and was into ass holes, specifically Jack's hole.  Red's ginger
beard was the same color as his body hair. He had the pink complexion you
would expect of a red head. He had a good cock, average in length and a bit
thicker than normal. He had balls that would have made a bull proud. His
balls were true cum factories. I've often said, good sex is messy. By that
standard we had damn good sex.

Since Red hadn't fucked Jack before, he went first. We got Jack on the edge
of the bed, I held his legs wide open as I straddled his face. Jack had to
choose between my balls and my cock. He alternated.

>From this position, I could adjust the height of Jack's ass to meet Red's
needs.  Red spent a lot of time lubricating Jack's hole. Red seemed to be a
believer in deep lubrication, so when it became time to replace his finger
with his cock, it was effortless. Just because it was effortless didn't
mean it was ineffective. As red's cock slid into Jack's love tunnel, I felt
Jack react.

Red penetrated quickly, but he stopped when his was fully embedded to give
Jack a chance to get his bearings. I pulled Jack's legs toward me, and then
released them a few times. This had the effect of massaging Red's
cock. Jack was moaning now, so I knew it was good for him too. Much to my
surprise, Red shot off. After he stopped spasming, he pulled out and we
traded places.

Jack's ass was good and open.  His twitching hole was already stretched and
a mixture of lube and cum drooled from it. My cock entered like Moses
crossing the Red Sea. The gunk in his ass acted like ball bearings. I
rarely get to poke an ass as open as Jack's. The experience was oddly
relaxing, but still exciting.

Red had taken my place straddling Jack's face. Red's uncut, soft cock was
still dripping. Jack was intercepting the drips with his tongue. I
concentrated on Jack, deep fucking him with slow strokes. His ass was
stretched wide when I was in, and didn't close all the way when I pulled
out. When I pulled out, Red would pull Jack's legs toward him and lick his
vacated ass. Then he tried to force his tongue into the hole.

I would then fuck Jack again. I noticed Red was fully erect again. Red and
I tag fucked Jack for the next hour and a half. Red was inventive and
during one of the rotations he sat on Jack's cock as I fucked Jack. In
another Red fucked me as I did Jack. I shot off twice, but Red must have
popped a half dozen times.  In each orgasm he sprayed us with his huge
loads. I think Jack would have gone on for another hour, but Red believed
in moderation in all things, enough was enough. You would think that three
strangers screwing each other for over an hour would get repetitive and
boring, but that wasn't a problem.

Red's taste for variety was helpful, but more important was the emotional
feeling the long sessions created. Jack started the session as a willing
ass, and ended up as a person. We all merged into a mutual stimulation and
pleasure society. We found out each other's strengths and weaknesses.  I
was trying to see what I could do to make it better for Red and Jack.  They
were looking after my interests. It doesn't get any better than that.

During sex I'm normally 90% a horny, big dicked, man fucker and 10% a
private eye, but he 10% is always present. During a lull in the passion, I
found out the Admiral and Jack were in intelligence, and guessed Red was in
the same line of work. Jack had an engineering background and had something
to do with weapons' evaluation. He wasn't a spy or undercover, I guessed he
was an analyst.

Jack had to go, so he took a shower and left, leaving me with Red. At first
I thought he just wanted more cock play, one on one. That was true, but he
also had an interest in the Mandrake Club.

"How long have you been there?" he asked.

"Just a week," I replied. "It's not quite what I expected."

"How so?"

"It's an odd combination of people. Both the members and the staff seem
mismatched," I said.

"More hookers than you expected?" Red asked.

"You do get around," I said. "It seems to be an odd combination of old
money, arch conservative politics and Gay sex. I take it you have a
connection inside."

"Not anymore," Red said.

"Commander Willamette?" I suggested. Red locked shocked for a split second,
then resumed his normal demeanor.

"Who exactly are you?"  he asked.

"Let's just say.  I'm interested in finding the Commander's murderer." I
said. "That seems to involve prostitution and blackmail."

"You're not the Metropolitan Police?"

"I'm working for the commander's father," I said. "He was unhappy with the
Police response."


"Would you be interested in helping me out?" Red asked. "We can pay you
well."

"I already have a job and money isn't a problem," I said. "If you spoke
with Mr. Willamette, he could give you clearance."

"I'm not sure I can deal with a grief-stricken father."

"I wouldn't worry about that," I explained. "He would be happy knowing his
son died an honorable death."

Red brightened up. "Actually, that is one thing I can do," he said. "The
commander was a brave man." Red gave me his card and said he would be in
touch.  His name was Redfern DeLacourt, and he was the Senior Analyst for
the British Technology Group. I went back to the club wondering exactly
what as going on.

Two days later I got a call from Mr. Willamette. "I got a visit from the
first Secretary of the British Embassy and a Mr. DeLacourt this morning,"
he said. "It seems you are in a position to be helpful to them. You are
free to keep them abreast of your investigations. Anyway you can help
Mr. Delacourt is acceptable to me, but I trust your judgment on that."

I wanted to see Red, but I figured he'd get in touch with me in his own
time. I was out walking in the early evening and getting my cell calls
made. I called the office and but no one was in. I was about six blocks
from the club where I found a little pocket of slightly run down houses and
apartments.  It was an area associated with students for Georgetown or
George Washington Universities.

"What are you doing here?" a voice asked. It was familiar, but not quite
recognizable. I looked around and saw Louis, the cook.

"An after work constitutional," I said. "Are you done with work already?"

"I sure am," Louis replied. "I was a baker for years.  I was up at and at
work by 5:00 every morning. I'm done early too."

"You live here?"

"I've been here for 25 years," Louis said. "It was just expensive when I
came here. I am the apartment manager in my spare time, so I get a deal on
the rent. Would you like a cup of coffee or a beer?"

I agreed and went to his apartment. The coffee was good, but I was
surprised when Carlton emerged from a bedroom, he was wearing only boxer
shorts. He was more surprised.

"Are you guys friends?" I asked.

"We're friendly enough, but Carlton sublets a room and helps with the
rent," Louis said. "I have to admit.  We were impressed with you
yesterday." I looked Louis in the eye and knew to what he was referring.

"I am a hard worker, " I said, smiling. Both men laughed.

"I hope you don't think I'm superficial, but how in hell did a small guy
like you get all that cock?" Louis asked.

"A friend of mine said that God has a sense of humor," I
said. "Unfortunately, while I have a lot of cock, I'm also a top, so I
don't have a place to put it often."

"Do I have a deal for you!" Carlton said. We all laughed.

"Lots of guys have bigger eyes than they have ass holes," I said.  "My cock
isn't for amateurs."

With that comment, Louis burst out laughing. He was all but rolling on the
floor. "Amateur!"  Louis exclaimed. "Carlton's 27 years old and he already
have a lifetime achievement award."

Carlton looked insulted, then laughed. "I'm not that bad!"Carlton
exclaimed. "I admit I've bottomed once or twice."  His boxers were tented
already. Louis continued laughing.  "Carlton is the Energizer Bunny when it
comes to getting fucked," Louis said. "Nothing is too big and no one fucks
too long."

"I guess he makes friends easily?" I said.

"I'm willing enough," Carlton said, "but I'm not pretty enough." Carlton
was about five feet seven and beefy. He wasn't fat, but he was no beach
bunny. He looked young to me, but he wasn't like the boyish Lonnie. "I'm
not too good at playing the blushing virgin either," Carlton added. "The
men at the club like them fresh."

"They think Lonnie's a virgin?" I asked.

"Hard to believe, isn't it," Louis said. "Poor Carlton is a bit too vocal
in his enthusiasm." Louis began unbuttoning his shirt. "Let's go to the bed
room." It would be good if I could resist temptation, but that isn't my
strong suit. We went to the bedroom.

I usually have to get the guys I fuck ready, but Carlton was hot to trot. I
soon realized Louis was into it too. He liked to watch and seemed to have
in-depth knowledge of Carlton's sexual anatomy. I assumed most of his
knowledge came through direct exploration. Louis was more than willing to
give me detailed instructions.

Willing though he was, it was a tight fit. Carlton wanted it bad and was
willing to take any discomfort necessary. Louis provided lube and
encouragement. It took a good fifteen minutes to get fully embedded in
Carlton's ass. Once we were pubic hair to ass lips, Carlton got his breath.
Carlton twitched a few times and we were off to the races. He had
remarkable control of his rectum.  It was almost prehensile. Carlton
massaged my cock as I rammed him.  Nothing was too hard or rough for
him. Once I was in his ass, Carlton had a sphincter of steel.  He tried to
grab my cock and hold it.