Date: Sun, 3 Jul 2011 02:33:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Catfish Visits a Castle 2

Catfish Visits a Castle 2
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, any comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com

When I was eleven or twelve, I discovered my favorite toy was attached to
my body and was easily accessible. Dallas and the boys discovered the same
thing. Denied any other form of entertainment, they had done a complete
investigation of man sex. They knew what it was, how to do it and how good
it was.

Some men on the Castle staff used them for their own pleasure, but the Boys
had their own "secret fun" just for themselves. They had been at the Castle
for three years, and they wanted more variety, but not with the men who
used them. I didn't like the idea of using them for my pleasure, but I
discovered they intended to use me to meet their own sexual needs. I wasn't
too sure about this, but I did understand their desires.

A friend of mine who was in a long-term relationship said sometimes you
just want to try someone else's' cock. They stayed happily together even
though they periodically sampled other cocks. The boys wanted some fresh
meat.

Dallas came by to see me the next morning and said they were going to visit
the playhouse that evening and they wanted me to come with them. I said I
would be glad to give it a spin.  During the day, I pruned and trimmed.  I
noticed there was an almost complete separation between the grounds staff
and the house staff. What went on in the Castle itself was mostly concealed
from view.  The house staff didn't go out much and did not mingle.

Given the beautiful views and cool breezes, this seemed odd.  The house
wasn't air-conditioned.  The electrical system was too old to support
central air. Most of the castle windows were shut.

I was working on a forlorn hedge in what had been a formal garden when a
voice demanded, "Who in hell are you?"  I looked toward the voice.  A big,
rather beefy man glowered at me.

"I'm Will; I work for Otis," I said. "I live above the boiler."

"I get to check out all new employees," the man said. Dugan, the cook came
over.

"Cool down Casey, Otis brought him by," the chef said. He introduced us to
him. He's the night guy who takes care of the pumps."

"Otis isn't supposed to hire anyone without my permission," Casey said.

"We've had a problem getting anyone to take care of the pump. You know how
aggravated Trevor gets when the water fails," Dugan said.

"Trevor is turning into a nut job on that subject," Casey said.  Trevor
tended to stare at my basket. I was wearing old, well-worn jeans, you
couldn't exactly see through them, but you sure got the lay of the land.
Casey furtively glanced to see what Trevor was looking at.

Casey didn't exactly do a double take, but he liked what he saw, Casey
calmed down. "I'm the head butler and you do what I tell you!" he
said. Most of the men I had met from the house had been tall, thin and
tended to be elegant. Casey was no like that at all. He was tall, beefy,
poorly groomed, and smelled of stale beer.

My knowledge of butlers was based on old movies and PBS miniseries. Casey
was nothing like that. Mrs. Smith said he was the head of security.  He
wouldn't get a job at Catfish & Company. Beer on his breath at ten in the
morning was a bad sign.  The Castle had Trevor, Ferdinand and Casey all in
leadership positions. That seemed like a lot of leaders for a single
mansion. I wondered who did what. You sometimes get overlap in multiple
leadership situations and turf wars. You can also get gaps.

"I've got to get back to the house," Casey suddenly said. He left me with
Dugan.

"Casey is all bark and no bite," Dugan said.

"Nice and friendly," I said.

Dugan laughed. "It takes a six pack for him to get friendly," Trevor
said. "I'm friendly all of the time." He moved closer to me and was still
fixated on my cock. We were in the middle of an overgrown area, and out of
view.

"I like friendly men," I replied. "Just how friendly are you?"

"There's a nice secluded place nearby," he said. "We could go there and I
could show you."

"That's fine with me," I said, as we went to the back area of the
garden. "You seem a little tense. I take it you could use some relaxation?"

"I had too much coffee this morning," he said. "We ran out of cream."

I chuckled. "I can help you with that if you're willing to work for it," I
said.  I knew he was willing to work for it. Dugan looked like a lounge
lizard, but cum hounds, come in all sizes and shapes.  When a man outright
asks to drain your balls, he's near the top of the cum hound food pyramid.

The garden was on a terrace, and at the back stone steps led into the
woods. There was a grotto with a spring built in to the terrace wall. It
was cool and secluded. For ten minutes, my cock experienced pure,
unadulterated cock worship. Dugan took it all. My bush filtered the air as
his nose.  His tongue and throat worked on my over sized tool. When he
swallowed, his throat undulated on my cock and it felt great.

I couldn't hold back long and I gave him warning when I was close. He liked
to deep throat me, but when it was show time he pulled back keeping only my
cock head and a few inches of shaft in his mouth. After positioning his
tongue at the slit, he waited. Dugan wanted to taste my scuz. Dugan had to
swallow once to make room for the rest.  With his tongue at the slit, he
shivered every time I squirted.

"Do I have it all?" he asked once he swallowed the main load.

"You've got most of it," I answered. "There are only dribbles left."

"Do you mind I coax whatever is left out of your cock?" he asked.  I said
of course not. I asked if he ever took it in the ass.

"You are awfully big," he replied.  That meant yes.

"Keep me in mind if you have an itch you can't scratch," I said. Dugan told
me he had to get back to the kitchen, but I knew he would come back.

At seven, Dallas appeared and took me to the playhouse. The playhouse
wasn't a house; it was a cave. The entrance was down a crack in the rocks.
From above it looked too narrow for a normal human, but it was wider than
it looked. The cave was fifteen or twenty feet deep and overlooked the view
toward Charlottesville.  It was completely hidden from view from above.

 The boys had some blankets and quilts to sit on and the cave was dry and
airy. Johnny, Jimmy and Jerry were waiting for us. I wasn't sure what they
expected, so I let them take the lead. Dallas seemed to be the leader and
he started to strip. The boys and I followed. All eyes were on me.

"Monkey man!" Jimmy cried when he saw my hairy body. They burst into
laughter. Jerry was hairy himself, but the other men were mostly
smooth. Johnny was the youngest of the group. He was almost six feet tall,
but simply copied the other men's actions.  He called Jerry Daddy, but that
was the only word he uttered. He had a thin, pale snake and big balls.
Jerry's physique was all bear. He compact genitals hiding under his
gut. Jimmy, the man who thought I was Monkey Man was a small sparkplug of a
man with oversized equipment.

To say they liked my cock understates the case. They clustered around me,
with Jerry and Johnny licking me to an erection.  Jerry was the first to
suck.  He offered my cock to Johnny who swallowed it greedily. Jerry then
sucked my balls as Johnny took my cock.  I felt a little like a prize
exhibit at the county fair. Dallas stood back and watched. He reminded me
of an angler standing next to his prize catch. He had hooked the big one
and brought it home for his pals to enjoy.

I got Jimmy to stand on a rock ledge and sucked him. He was half-hard
already, but once my lips wrapped around his knob he went to full
size. This caused a stir. I found out they weren't use to reciprocity from
men outside the group. There was some confusion when the other men tried to
get on the ledge to be sucked, but Dallas acted as a traffic cop.

Johnny was close when I sucked him and he squirted some cream.  I pulled
back a little, so only my tongue touched the underside of his cock head. He
shot the rest of his load into my mouth, making a puddle on my tongue. I
then swallowed his cock and his load and suctioned up whatever was left in
his balls. Johnny was shivering, twitching and almost crying in pleasure.

By eating Johnny's sperm, I wanted them to know I was a good sport. They
saw him shoot and me swallow. I had been carried away in the moment.

I knew the rest of the men expected the same. I wasn't that enthusiastic
about taking four loads, but I admit I became more enthusiastic as I took
their loads. If the boys didn't expect reciprocity, they even less expected
to have any one feast on their man seed.  They were pleased as could
be. Things calmed down after this and we all rested. Conversation was
limited, but everyone was smiling, including me.

I have a short recharge time, but I soon discovered the boys had almost
instantaneous recharge times. Jerry got up on his hands and knees and
spread his ass wide. He winked his hole in invitation. I wasn't sure if
they were into anal, but I brought some lubricant just in case.

The lubricant was a great success. They were use to spit lubricant, and the
wonders of K-Y dazzled them. Jerry liked being fucked, K-Y just made it
better, much better. Everyone took his turn with Jerry's ass. I was last.
Jerry was a good sport. There was a little resistance at the sphincter, and
my cock went deep. Jerry seemed to have no problem at all. Someone had
already shot off in him, and his ass was hot, juicy and welcoming.

I may have more experience than most men with probing a man's innards for
pleasure, but Jerry was a keeper.  My cock and his ass were meant for each
other. Jerry didn't hide his feelings at all. Santa had just slid down his
chimney and Jerry was a happy six-year-old getting every present he had
dreamed about.

I must have spent fifteen or twenty minutes working him over. Everything
was good; I hit the jackpot every time. His pals seemed to enjoy it as much
as he did. They hadn't guessed my cock would fit, and when it did, they
marveled.  They seemed to share Jerry's pleasure and excitement. They loved
to watch my cock open his ass and slide in. they loved to see his hole
quiver in anticipation as I prepared to go in deep again.

When I finally got him the shoot, Dallas sucked up his seed. It was wild.

There was one unanticipated problem. Johnny, the young one, copied
everything Jerry did. He got on his hands and knees and opened his ass for
me.  I think Jerry was his father substitute and Johnny wanted to follow
his lead. I had no idea if Johnny likes to be fucked, or if he could take
my cock. I only shove my cock where it is welcome, so Johnny was a
problem. Yes, he wanted it, but I had no idea if he knew what he was
getting in to.  I didn't want to rip him in half. My cock isn't made for
delicate asses.

I lubricated two fingers and worked them into Johnny's ass. That was a
success, so I slid a finger on each side of his plump prostate and massaged
the tender gland. I was careful and took my time, but his reactions became
increasingly enthusiastic as I pressed harder. Eventually he was squirming
in pleasure and his cock exploded. Jerry was close enough to catch Johnny's
almost pyrotechnic spray of seed.  The young man really loved that. He was
happy.

I explained finger fucking to them and did a demonstration on Jimmy, who
liked it too. I emphasized well-trimmed fingernails was essential. Dallas
understood.

It was getting late and I said I had to get back to my room to await
Heaven's Curses' next failure. Dallas wanted me to stay and do to him what
I had done to Johnny.  I said I would come back anther time. I said if I
didn't leave, I would be late. They all understood the need to be on
time. Someone had made that very clear.

If orgasms are any indicator, I gave them more pleasure than I took. I
enjoyed myself, but they enjoyed me too. It was a good night. I slept well
and the pump waited until six in the morning to act up. That was my normal
time to wake, so it was fine. After I reset Heaven's Curse a man from the
Castle dropped off breakfast on a tray.  Dugan had sent it. I was on his
list of friends.

I went back to the formal garden and worked on an oddly shaped bush. After
some preliminary pruning, I discovered it was a topiary parrot. As luck
would have it, it was in sight of Trixie's bedroom window. She got on the
balcony and watched.

An hour later she came to the garden surrounded by servants, "I love the
parrot!" she exclaimed. "I forgot it was there. It's beautiful." Mrs. Smith
was a perceptive woman. She thought Trixie was drugged.  I agreed. Trixie
had that far away voice I associate with valium of other sedatives. The
parrot must have broken through the drug-induced haze.

"Are there more birds here, Ma'am?" I asked.

She looked around the garden.  She looked lost and then got her
bearings. "There were four of them, one in each corner," she said. "Can you
find them again?"

"I can try, Ma'am," I said.

"You need to rest. It's time to go in," Sheila said. The servants closed
around here and took her back to the Castle. I heard Trixie say, "It's a
beautiful day out here." I returned to pruning the parrot. Trixie looked
healthy, but pale. She was elaborately made up, with perfect hair and what
I think of as Evangelist's wives' pancake makeup. Her face was a mask. I
couldn't tell if there remained a once beautiful woman underneath.

I assume crime is mostly due to money or sex.  She had the cash and was a
sex goddess. She was almost a characturiture of a sex bomb, like Jane
Mansfield or Marilyn Monroe. Sandra Smith thought she was more than that.
I certainly couldn't tell, but Mrs. Smith was no fool. I accepted her
judgment.

I got back to my room and called my office to see what they found. The
Aspens had no criminal record, but had been suspects in several dicey
situations. These had involved older men and women who they
befriended. They received substantial gifts, but the heirs, and in once
case the nursing home they worked at, had caught it in time.  It was not
clear, if they hadn't been caught or if they got off to avoid
embarrassment. Trevor had worked in a psychiatric hospital, but lost his
nursing credentials,

My staff is good and the man checking on Trevor's record sensed some
hesitation in the replies to his questions.  He got Paula, one of my older
lady operatives, to do a second call. Paula is a classic gossip, and had a
knack for girl talk. Other women confided in her. She discovered Trevor had
a way with the ladies at the institution where he worked. He was interested
in the patients many of whom thought it was true love.  There was a suicide
attempt as a result of one of his relationships.  The institution was
unaware Trevor had married Sheila. Sheila too had a problem with getting
too close to the patients.

Paula asked if either were Nurse Practitioners who could prescribe
drugs. The contact said no, but there had been some irregularities in
medications.  They were unable to trace the cause of the problems, but the
problems went away when Trevor left.

"Hillbilly Heroin?" Paula asked.  The answer was affirmative. It seemed to
me that Trixie had fallen in with people who had a wide range of
skills. They were sexually driven con artists with a taste for drugs.

By contrast, Casey was simply a truck driver who had a drinking problem. He
was Trevor's older brother and his role at the Castle was due to pure
nepotism. He had no record except for DWI convictions. I needed more names
of the staff to see how big the organizations were and how many were in on
the scam.

The next day I was working on the shrubs next to the Castle gate when we
had a visitor. The shrubs were topiary spirals and were in good condition
compared to the parrots. The visitor was Dr. LeRoy Whittle, the curator of
American art at Richmond Academy of Art. LeRoy was trailer trash from West
Virginia who somehow got a doctorate in Art History. He was brilliant and
driven, but you would never guess that when you met him.

Casey, playing the part of the butler, tried to keep him out, but LeRoy was
insistent. Ashton and Ferdinand appeared and Leroy explained his task. "We
are mounting an exhibition called Undiscovered and Underappreciated.  This
is to focus on little known painters of unrecognized merit. I am here to
see of some of the DeMont collection would be appropriate for the exhibit."

"We still own the paintings!" Ashton exclaimed. "They belong to
Mrs. DeMont."

"Let's be real here boys," LeRoy said with his West Virginia twang. "You
have been taking large tax write offs for the last five years for donating
the paintings to the Academy. By the agreement with Mrs. DeMont, we have
the right to exhibit any or all work for a period of six months at our
discretion. If you have a problem, we will contact the IRS. I would hate to
think they might interpret Mrs. DeMont's generous gift as an effort to
defraud the government."

"We own the paintings!" Ashton complained.

"You have custody of them, but we have use," LeRoy replied.  He looked at
me, "I have things in the trunk, bring them in for me," he ordered. LeRoy
entered the Castle. I knew LeRoy by sight, but he knew why I was there. The
back seat of his car had photographic equipment. I collected theme and
brought them into the entry hall.  LeRoy Whittle wasn't an impressive man
but he seemed forceful. He was a good six-feet-four, but was thin and
ungainly. He wasn't intimidating, but he had a knowing way of saying things
that implied he had all the cards he needed and knew it.

"Where are the paintings stored? I need to take pictures," he said.

"You can't take photographs!" Ferdinand said.

"I think if you read paragraph 5.3.5 of the donation agreement, you will
find the Academy has the right to photograph any and all items for any and
all reasons," LeRoy replied. It was possible he was bluffing, but I later
found out he didn't need to bluff. He possessed a photographic memory. I
spent the rest of the day hauling his photographic equipment for place to
place. I ended up getting a complete tour of the house, including basement
and attic storerooms.

I also found the secret passages. All haunted castles need secret
passages. Every teenager between Charlottesville and Waynesboro heard
stories about the secret passages at Craigmont.  It was a part of regional
folklore. The passages were for servants so they could get around the house
without bothering the owners. The hidden passages gave that house the feel
of a haunted house in a1930s Three Stooges Movie.  I found a connection
from the house to the boiler and the pump room. It was tucked in a closet
and hidden from view.  I also found a connection to the Grotto I had
visited when playing with the chef.

I was dazzled by LeRoy's knowledge of the Castle, but there was an
explanation.  The architects of the building donated their drawings to the
Richmond Academy.  LeRoy had studied the original plans. A portion of the
basement was locked.  I noticed the locks were modern.

LeRoy left at 4:00 and the castle returned to its normal routine. LeRoy
told me Trixie had changed lawyers recently and the Academy's team heavily
out matched her new lawyers. "As you can imagine, gifts, bequests and
endowments are their meat and potatoes. They have encountered every scheme
known to man to give, without really giving. The paintings are ours and
there is nothing they can do about it."

No one came knocking at me door that night so I got a full night's sleep.
Heavens Curse produced one complete 24 hour period without failing. The
next morning, Ashton called to the Castle to tell every word Le Roy
said. It didn't tell them that he had the building plans, and I didn't tell
him LeRoy took a number of general views of the interior. Yes, there was a
painting in the shot, but it was on the other side of the room. He had
cased the joint.

Ashton vaguely knew the paintings were valuable, but he knew nothing about
them. When I mentioned a painting of a girl in a blue dress on the
seashore, he didn't know what I was talking about. It was sitting on the
wall next to him.  I assumed his taste in art was limited to engravings of
American presidents only.

I was afraid my report on LeRoy's activities was too sketchy, but Ashton
was happy with it. He had no interest in the artwork. I mentioned LeRoy had
a list of paintings, and he found them all and he hadn't needed to look in
storage rooms. Ashton looked relieved. I wanted to know why.