Date: Sat, 17 Jun 2006 14:11:58 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Catfish Rides Again

Catfish Rides Again

By Bald Hairy Man

If you are offended by gay sex or are underage, DON'T read this story. This
is a fantasy, not a sex manual. No effort to portray safe sex is made in
this story.  This story is part of an extended group of stories listed
under Millennium Construction Company. If you have want to know more about
the characters look it up.  If you have comments write me at
bldhrymn@excite.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com


Mom always jokingly asked why no one ever killed her sister Edith.  Her
sister, my Aunt Edith, had a special ability to enrage and insult. She had
been pretty as a girl, but my Aunt Ellen said, Edith hadn't aged, she
soured.  She married late and tried to make up for her increasingly
unattractive appearance by being exceptionally narrow and intolerant of
anything she regarded as "sinful", "immoral" or "modern."

While she was expert at finding sin in the most ordinary and simple of
human endeavors, Edith's sense of virtues didn't seem to include charity,
tolerance, love, or affection.  She was attracted to crackpot preachers and
to sanctimonious freeloaders. This got her in trouble several times,
especially after Uncle Edgar died. Edgar was by no means a catch, but he
could spot a con man two counties away.

It was ten in the morning when Mom called me and said Edith was dead.  Mom
wanted me to come right away. "I think there is something wrong," she said.

"What can be more wrong than dead?" I asked.

"I don't know exactly. Your Aunt Becky called.  She didn't want to talk on
the phone," Mom replied.

Fortunately, things were quiet at Catfish & Company, my security agency. By
noon I was on the way home.  It was a long drive to south west Virginia and
Mom called me on the cell phone three times.  The first time was to say
that Edith had been murdered. Then she called to say the body had been
mutilated, and finally to say Edith's house had been torched.


By the time I got home, Mom was frantic. He sisters were coming and I was
to take them immediately to Wythetown, Edith's hometown.  Wythetown was the
county seat of Talliaferro County. Talliaferro was one of Virginia's
western most Counties. I was noted for its poverty and inaccessibility.  It
was mountainous, with poor roads and with few resources, other than a
particularly poor grade of coal.

Talliaferro, pronounced Tolliver, had been briefly prosperous at the turn
of the twentieth century.  There were several coal mines than had once
employed several thousand.  The coal produced as little heat and as much
soot as was possible, and after World War I the mines were abandoned for
cleaner fuel sources.

At 74, Mom was the youngest of the sisters. Becky was 77 and Ellen 80. They
were spry, but the drive west was too much for them, especially considering
the famously poor state of roads. My Aunts arrived just after I got there.
We transferred my bag to Ellen's Buick 88 and left for Wythetown. It was a
long five hours before we arrived at Edith's burned out house.

A policeman was on guard. Becky went up to him to get information. I'm
pretty sure he wasn't supposed to tell us what he did, but Becky had her
ways.  Becky had been a High School Latin teacher.  She was noted for being
firm, but fair and she was every inch a lady. Becky expected people to tell
her what she wanted to know. The Policeman, Officer Rollie Waterson, was a
well bread country boy and he told her as many details as he knew.

Firemen discovered the body after they put out the fire. "It was a poor
attempt at a fire," Rollie said. "More smoke than flame.  At first they
thought it was a typical smoking in bed thing."

"Edith didn't smoke," Ellen said.

"That what one of the guys in the Fire Department said," Rollie said.
Scooter had her for Sunday School.  He said, "Miss Edith didn't smoke,
didn't drink and hardly took a breath without asking the Lord's
permission. Scooter smelled something fishy from the start."

"When they found the body, they knowed something was really wrong, " Rollie
continued.  "There were parts missing."  Becky gasped.  "Sorry ma'am, maybe
I shouldn't have said that."

"Not at all," Mom chimed in. "I'm a nurse and nor squeamish at all. Please
tell us all."  He continued.  It was getting dark and a red truck drove
up. A skinny guy with a huge handlebar mustache got out.  Somehow I guessed
it was Scooter. I was right.

"I was just driving by and saw you guys here, what's up Rollie?" he
asked. He sounded authoritative and mad.

"These are Miss Edith's folks, Scooter" Rollie replied. "Her sisters and a
nephew."

Scooter's attitude changed immediately, "Sorry about your loss," he said.
"It's a bad situation. Miss Edith's body is at the medical examiners, so
you'll have some time to make arrangements."  We talked more about the
events surrounding Edith's death.  By now it was dark and it was getting
cold. In the dim light I could see Aunt Ellen was shivering.

"I think I'd better get the ladies to a motel," I said. "This has been a
shock to them."

"The motel situation here is poor," Rollie said.  "The Town and Country has
seen better days."

"Well, as long as it clean . . ." Mom said.

"Clean is kind of the problem, ma'am," Rollie said. "It's not too good for
ladies. Even the Mexican's don't think much of it."

"My Mom has a room, if you don't mind things being a bit down home,"
Scooter said.

Rollie laughed. "Scooter's Mom is a nice lady, not like Scooter at all," he
said.  "It's a pretty house."  My Aunts thought that would be fine. Scooter
called his mother and she said she'd get the room ready.  Scooter bumped
into to me accidentally.  I didn't react. A little later he bumped into me
again, this time not by accident.

"The boy here can bunk with me," Scooter said. "I've got a double-wide on
the other side of the farm."  I wanted to find out more, but Mom and her
sisters were worn out. I followed Scooter into the country side and then
down a long farm road. The moon was out and the farm house was
impressive. It was a two-story stone building with all the lights on.

Scooter's mother greeted us at the door. It took at least thirty seconds
for Mom and her sisters to realize Scooter's mother, Elizabeth, was a like
spirit. Ellen was looking a bit shaky. Elisabeth produced tea and a
cake. She was sympathetic and had the ability to appear to be effortlessly
helpful.

Scooter said he had to get up early with the cows, so we went off. I left
the Buick at the house, and drove in his pickup.  He said the road wasn't
Buick friendly.

His double wide was a half mile away.  It was a big farm. "I'm ready for a
beer," Scooter said. "Are you a drinking man?"

"A beer sounds great."

He got out a Miller.  "Your folks don't seem much like Miss Edith," he said
cautiously.

"Thank you Jesus," I said. "Aunt Edith was a problem.  Mom and my other
aunts are normal.  We never figured out what got into Edith."

Scooter smiled. "She was a trip. I hated her in Sunday school. She was a
mean as they come, but as I got older I got to think of her as a type,"
Scooter said. "My mom tries to think the best of people, but even she
admitted Miss Edith was a challenge."  We talked for a while and had
another beer.

I remembered to bumps in the dark and decided to go for it. "What in hell
do you do for entertainment here?  You're a long way from the big city
lights."

"Other than satellite tv?"  He asked with a sly smile on his face.

"You got some buddies?"

"A few," he said. "Fishing buddies, hunting buddies, fire department
buddies.  You've got friends?

"Sure," I said. "Mostly fuck buddies."

Scooter laughed.  "That's my favorite kind."

"I need to warn you, I'm 90% a top."

"I'd guess I'm 50/50." Scooter said. He was 6" taller than me and he was
looking at me in frank appraisal.

"Are you the kind of guy who like to know someone before he gets down and
dirty?" I asked.

"Shit, if there's a cock involved, I don't even need to see a guy's face,"
Scooter said as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"A romantic?" I said as I stripped.

He nodded, "Sure, I'm romantic as hell."  By now he was shirtless.  He was
thin, but quite muscular.  He had taken off his baseball cap and was
balding, but what he lacked in his head he made up for on his chest.  The
mat of dirty blond chest hair linked to his bush with a treasure trail. His
cock was long and uncut.  His nuts hung low in a hairy ball sack.

"Damn, you're a fucking gorilla," he exclaimed just before I dropped my
pants. He whistled.

"You said you bottomed?" I asked.

Scooter looked at me a bit sheepishly. "I don't know about that.  If I'd
seen the coming attractions I might not have volunteered that information."
he said as he stared at my cock. "I sure do like what I'm seeing. Your dick
must be half your body weight."

"Don't worry Scooter, I never stick it where it's not wanted," I said.

"Wanting ain't the problem," Scooter said. I started sucking on his
cock. He had what I call an ice teaspoon style cock.  It was long and thin,
with a bloated cock head at the tip. We were soon sixty-nining on the floor
and the curve of his erect organ was a perfect fit for my throat. I could
deep throat him and still breathe as his cock head massaged my
tonsils. Scooter had a lantern jaw and he came damn close to deep throating
me.

Scooter may not have been a romantic, but I knew we were going to hit it
off. After a few minutes he seemed like an old friend. I've never heard
anyone talking about a cock as a communication organ, but you can tell. I
got Scooter from stop to 100 mph in 40 seconds or less. There was so much
pre cum it was almost as if he was ejaculating.  I was revved up too.

"Damn Scooter, you can pick them!" a voice said.  I jumped, turned over and
saw Rollie standing beside us taking off his shirt. Rollie was a black
haired bear-like man. He must have been in his twenties and looked as if he
still had some baby fat, but he looked good to me.

Scooter must have seen Rollie entering the room. He didn't jump and
continued deep throating me. He slowly pulled off, exposing my cock to
Rollie for the first time.

"Holy shit!" Rollie exclaimed.  I'm good about recognizing all the signs of
a size queen. Rollie had 12 of the ten most common signs. I don't think you
can get whiplash from getting erect too fast, but Rollie was close. He
pushed Scooter out of the way and went after my cock.

Rollie was clean shaven, balding, and shaved his neck to an inch below his
collar. From that line down, he had a pelt. He also had huge balls.  As
Rollie sucked me, Scooter got off the bed, coated his cock with lube and
rear ended the policeman. Rollie sighed in relief as if a particularly
annoying itch was scratched.

"I hope I'm not telling stories out of school, but Rollie here likes the
bottom," Scooter said and he slowly thrust his cock into Rollie's
ass. "He's not exactly a bottom pig, but he's damn close."

"I take it you boys are old friends?"

"Since we were twelve," Scooter said. "Sucking at twelve, fucking at
fifteen.  Don't worry.  We aren't lovers, just pals." Scooter tensed up,
then began to twitch. He shuddered and twitched with every ejaculation.

"Sorry about that," he said. "It caught me by surprise.  I wasn't expecting
it." Scooter looked at me.  "Do you have a problem with sloppy seconds?"

"I have no problem if Rollie is okay with it," I answered.

"Don't worry about Rollie. Just think of me as his social secretary,"
Scooter said. "Just take your time, and he'll be fine." I later found out
Rollie had been a linebacker on his high school team and had spent four
years in the Marines.  He was a firm believer in the no pain no gain school
of life.

Rollie had a tight ass, but I used my cock as a battering ram and got
in. While I sensed he wanted my cock, he fought it all the way.  Once my
cock head was on the dark and warm side of his sphincter, Rollie became a
whimpering pussy cat. I know a number of men who like to be fucked, but
Rollie was right up there at the top.

Sperm is the best lube, and Scooter had shot a bucketful of the stuff deep
in his rectum. Rollie's sphincter remained tight, forming a natural cock
ring.  I'm uncut and have sone extra skin.  The sphincter held the skin,
while the shaft and head churned Scooter's cum. If sperm could make butter,
we'd have had it.

Rollie didn't last long.  He started shooting after five or six minutes of
heavy fucking. Since Scooter and Rollie had shot off, I figured I was out
of luck. Most guys aren't interested in sex for a while after they've shot.

I miss judged Scooter.  He had watched me fuck his pal and wanted to give
it a spin himself. "Catfish, I'm not sure I can take it, but I'd like to
give it a try," he said.  "Would you mind if I sat on it?"  Needless to
say, I said yes.

A half hour later Scooter was skewered on my cock. He'd sit on it.  Get up,
squirt more lube in his ass than take his seat again.  Each time his did
this he'd get another inch in his hole. When about seven inches were in,
his eyes crossed.  I flipped him over and fucked him on his back.  I took
my time, but I realized my judgement as to his sexual capacity was better
than his.

It was one of those situations when taking my cock was more like climbing
Mt. Everest that a real pleasure. Once I was in, I pushed his knees back so
they touched his chest and fucked him good. Briefly, I was afraid I had
gone too far, but a second later Scooter had a hands free orgasm. Given
he'd had a monster orgasm a half hour earlier, I took that as a good
sign. I shot off and collapsed on the bed.

When I woke the next morning, Scooter was gone to his cows, but Rollie was
still there. He wanted to be fucked again, and we had a good time.  He went
off to work and I went off to the big house to see what my Mom and Aunts
were doing.

They were having breakfast and talking. Miss Elizabeth was fifteen years
younger than my Mom, but the same sort of person, sensible self reliant and
reasonable. She knew everyone and everything, so she gave guidance to find
right undertaker and she knew who ran the cemetery.

Scooter appeared. He had showered and didn't show any signs of the
activities with the cows. My Aunts wanted to go to the house. Scooter
thought I might be better I he and I went there and scouted it
out. Elizabeth agreed with her son said she would be glad to go with my
family to make arrangements. I could check out the house with Scooter.  He
was the designated arson investigator for the fire department.

There was something unsaid as to why my mother and aunts shouldn't go to
Edith's house. As Scooter drove me into town, I asked he what was up.

"The place is a real mess. We're not sure, but some parts of your Aunt may
be missing," he explained. "We don't know if they were burned up, or
removed. Some still may be in the house.  I think we'd better know before
the ladies go looking around the house."

Another volunteer fireman was watching the house as we drove up.  The big
boys from Roanoke were on their way to do the major forensic
investigation. "Arson in these parts is usually burning barns or sheds and
90% o the time it teenagers," Scooter said. "The other 10% is for
insurance. I've never been close to having anything like this here."

"Was there an accelerant?"

"I smelled gasoline when I got here," Scooter said. "Given the condition of
the body, I'm pretty sure she was dead well before the fire."

We went into the house. The living room, dining room and kitchen were only
smoke and water damaged.  I recognized some of the furniture as belonging
to my grandparents.  My Aunt Becky had some parts of the old parlor suite
in her house.  The china cabinet was undamaged and I saw some of the hand
painted china done by my great-grandmother was in there.

The acrid smell of the fire pervaded everything. We went upstairs to the
bedroom. The door to the master bedroom was open.  The damage was greater
here, but it was superficial. The house had plaster ceilings and the fire
had not spread into the attic. All the bedding and the mattress were
destroyed. The windows were broken out and clear, bright sunlight into the
room.

"You can see a lot better today.  There was still smoke everywhere
yesterday," Scooter remarked. There were odd looking things here and
there. One glob of stuff turned out to be a clock radio. Broken pots held
the remains of houseplants. I remembered Edith was known for her green
thumb. Next to the pots was an oddly shaped piece of wood. There was
something shiny on the wood. When I looked closer, I saw it was a ring, a
wedding ring. It took me a few seconds to realize the chared wood was Aunt
Edith's hand.

I came really close to throwing up.