Date: Tue, 8 Mar 2005 14:08:20 -0800 (PST)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Special Assistant 6

Special Assistant.

Part 6

By Bald Hairy Man    e-mail  bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com

This is an adult story intended for adults. It is a fantasy, so I again
remind you that I have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and
have included no gestures toward common sense either.  These are all new
stories.  Please e-mail me if you have any suggestions or comments.

Marty returned around one and made a lunch of sandwiches.  I felt like a
tugboat surrounded by battleships, but Bernard and Herbie were easy to talk
with, in spite of being well known and I felt comfortable.  We were almost
finished with lunch when two big men entered the house.  One was big; the
other was huge.

"Roddy, Gill, I'd like you to meet Jason," Marty said.  "He's spending the
weekend with us."  We shook hands.

"Have you taken to robbing cradles?" Gill asked as he looked me over.

Before Marty had a chance to respond, I replied, "Only if I'm lucky." I got
points for being fast and clever.  Gill was a dead ringer for Grizzly Adams
and the other man, Roddy, looked like the missing link.  Gill had a PhD in
Biology and was a leading environmentalist.  Roddy was the caretaker.

The conversation turned serious and deep.  I still felt outclassed, but I
could follow it and make a contribution or two.  You could classify most of
the men, except Gill, as conservative, but none were happy with what was
happening in Washington.  They were all realists.  All were sophisticated
men, well educated and well traveled.  They all had real world experience
and combined their theoretical thinking with a strong sense of the
possible.

"Murphy's Law is at the core of real world experience," Herbie said.  "If
you have a plan dependant on having every thing work right, it's a flawed
plan.  I don't think every plan can be fail safe, but you need redundancy.
Without a back up plan, you're lost."

"I'm terrified we're heading for a military disaster," Admiral Billy said.

"Like Vietnam?" I asked.

"No, much worse.  We have control of the air and sea.  There are no
problems there, but there are no reserves in the Army.  Zero," Billy said
emphatically.  "If Korea or Iran act up, we're in big trouble.  The
administration treats the troops like shit.  They're good on the flag
waving and patriotic bull, but when it comes to supplying them, feeding
them and giving them rest, they simply don't care. They've turned suppling
the troops into a money making venture.  Haliburton is a profit driven
enterprise."

"As I recall, General McCelland in the Civil War was so concerned about the
welfare of his soldiers he couldn't act decisively," Marty interjected.

"You need a balance.  I think our approach is more like the British and
French Generals in World War I. Our men are cannon fodder, or more
correctly roadside bomb fodder. In World War I, they had to deal with
mutiny," Billy said.

"Problems of that sort have been minor in this war," Herbie said.

"We're in a war without end," Billy said.  "The President keeps on saying
our increasing casualties are a sign of our success.  That's not comforting
to the man or woman in the field."

"Are increased causalities unusually a sign of success?" Roddy asked.  The
men looked at him and burst out laughing.

"Roddy, my boy, you have hit the nail on the head.  By the President's
calculation we will achieve final success when the enemy has killed our
last man," Bernard said.

"Talk about a morale booster!" I said.  "That makes the Little Big Horn a
success. We should make Custer into our greatest General."

I knew from my time in the White House, the administration thought anyone
who opposed them was unpatriotic and helping the enemy.  I thought all of
their opponents were Democrats.  Here, I was talking with some high powered
Republicans and they weren't happy.  The conversation continued for another
half hour, then Marty announced it was time to play.

"The pool is open and ready for fun," he said.

"I'm not sure my body's ready for sunlight," Bernard said.

"None of us are bathing beauties, except Gill and Jason.  You're my guest
and you have fun, damn it!" Marty exclaimed.  "I've got enough sun screen
to take care of all your worries."  Marty was use to being obeyed.  We all
did.  The pool was to the side of the house and was new.

"I still don't think my body's ready for prime time," Bernard muttered.

Marty got close to him and whispered.  "Let's just say, everyone here has
the same interest, and the part of your body they're interested in is just
fine."

Bernard looked around and stared at me.  "Hot damn!" he said.

"Is skinny dipping okay?" Gill asked.  He didn't wait for an answer.  He
stripped naked and jumped into the pool.  Roddy was right behind him.
Naked, Roddy looked more like the missing link than he did in clothes.  He
must have been 6-5 and 300 pounds of solid beef. Everyone else stripped and
jumped in.

Bernard was the last one in.  "If this doesn't look like a Beach Party
movie gone bad!  Frankie and Annette would be appalled," he said.  "You're
going to clog the pool filters with the hair!"

"Stop whining, Moon Doggy and jump in!" Marty ordered.  Bernard obeyed.
Everyone was hairy and beefy, except me. Gil looked like a Norse God, Odin
or Donner. He was the golden boy.  Herbie liked a bit like Santa.  With his
white beard he would have made a good department store St. Nick if you
added a paunch.  Bernard was stocky and thick.  He looked solid.  He
obviously didn't lift weights, but he must have exercised some.

Marty swam laps and I tried to keep up with him. During a rest period, I
lounged on the edge of the pool and talked with Bernard.  He seemed
relaxed, now he was in the water.

"Ever since he had a heart attack, Marty's been obsessed with exercise,"
Bernard said. "I don't know how long you've known Marty, but if he
exercises, all of his friends do too."

I smiled.  "He's leadership material. Do you live in D.C.?"

"Nope, I'm a full time faculty member at Penn," Bernard replied. "I live on
the Main Line. Marty has all the makings of a nagging Jewish mother, but
without the subtlety," Bernard said. "My mother is the real thing. Marty's
a wonder. How did you meet him? You're not his type."  He paused and
smiled. "Sorry about asking that, there's a lot more of my Jewish mother in
me than I want to admit."  He looked me in the eye.  "By the way, you are
my type."

"I don't know if I have a type yet," I replied. "I seemed to have liked
just about everyone I've met."  I liked Bernard, but obviously he was
embarrassed at his looks. He looked masculine rather than handsome or
pretty. It seemed that odd a man as accomplished and successful as he,
would fall for the Hollywood version of male beauty.  I moved and
accidentally bushed against him. I turned the accident into a
grope. Bernard had a classic, fireplug cock.  It was almost as wide as it
was long with a big, flared head.  Bernard looked surprised, then grateful.

Glancing around the pool I saw we weren't the only ones who were playing.
While all was placid above the water's surface, below there was
activity. "Are you all playmates?" I whispered to Barnard.

"I guess you could say that," he replied. "Marty is the common thread. He
had a wide range of acquaintances.  We're all closeted, but he's
careful. We can trust his judgement. You can't believe how good it feels to
let your hair down and just have fun."

"Believe me, I can," I replied.  A gigantic animal wandered up to the pool.

"Puffball!" Roddy exclaimed.

"What in hell is that?" I asked.

"He's an Irish Deerhound," Roddy replied.  "He's a combination intrusion
alarm and enforcer."  The animal jumped into the pool. "He also likes
water."  Roddy said as he swam over to me and Bernard.  He put his arms
around both of us.  "Let Puffball make friends first."

"What happens if he doesn't like me?" I asked.

"You don't want to know," Roddy said, then he let out a belly laugh.  Once
the animal saw me in Roddy's arms all was well. I got out of the water and
sunned myself.  Bernard joined me. True to his word, Marty had a tube of
sun screen and I rubbed it into Bernard's very white skin. Puffball got out
at the same time.  He came over to me, licked my cock and then whet off.

"Damn you've trained that dog well," Gill said to Roddy.

"I didn't train him to do that," Roddy said.  "He's a damn observant dog!"
There was more laughter. Roddy got out of the pool.  When he jumped in, I
had been so struck by his coat of curly hair.  I hadn't noticed his
cock. It was in scale with his body, a monster. With Marty and the Admiral
it was a horse hung convention.

It was a beautiful afternoon, Marty and Herbie had flown in from LA that
morning, so they went off to have a nap. I was sharing a bedroom with
Bernard. We took a nap too, but we didn't get any sleep.  Since Rolf had
been away for the week, I had a build up of lustful urges needing
expression.

It didn't take me long to sense Bernard had several months of pent up lust.
Bernard and I had a great time.  He wanted me and I was flattered.  I found
out younger men turned him on, but as a professor he felt that getting it
on with any of his students was unprofessional and immoral.  I was close
enough to college age to hit the spot for him.

He was mostly oral and was perfectly happy to suck me without me doing
anything.  I only needed to stay hard and shoot off.  That had never
happened to me before and it was a good experience.  He did all the work
and I let nature take its course.  I shot off the first time after ten
minutes of sucking, twenty minutes for the second orgasm and thirty for the
third.  Truthfully, I had no idea I could have a third.  I felt guilty
about letting Bernard do all the work, but he loved it.

My cock got really sensitive after the third and I made him 69.  Precum
covered his fire plug cock.  Some had dried; some was still fresh.  Bernard
had the widest piss slit I had encountered and I forced my tongue into it.
I know it isn't possible, but I had the sensation of penetrating deep into
his shaft.  When I did that, he shot off.  He must have been saving up for
weeks.  When he stopped shooting, he was asleep.

Marty woke us up an hour later.  Dinner was ready.  Dinner was a
traditional summertime barbeque, very simple and very good.  Everyone was
mellow and relaxed.  Herbie wanted to know what I knew about Randall and I
told him.  I was sure he knew most of the story, but I think he wanted to
hear it first hand.  He wasn't interested in hearsay.

"Who in the White House would need to pay for sex." Bernard asked.  "Say
what you will about Bill Clinton, but he never had to pay."

"As I recall, Ms. Tripp was launching sluts in his direction," Admiral
Billy said.  "Clinton never hid his interest in women.  Bill was 100%
heterosexual.  He wasn't threatened by gay men."

"Do you think most of the anti Gay men are uneasy about their own
sexuality?" I asked.

"Many are, I think," Herbie said.  "However, I think some may be like the
old time segregationists. You could be a dirt poor, red neck in rural God
Knows Where, and while things were bad, at least he was white.  If you
started treating black people like human beings, then you didn't even have
that.  Black equality was a threat.  Gay rights are a problem for the same
people.  They may not be much, but at least they're straight."

"I think it may be part of a longing for times that never were," Gill
said. "The anti abortion people long for the days of orphanages and boy's
homes.  At one time priests checked church doors for baskets with abandoned
babies throughout the night.  Who knows how many women died giving birth in
secret?"

"The historical problem with homosexuality in government was blackmail,"
Bernard said.  "That hasn't been as much of a problem in the last two
decades, but it is a problem for this administration.  They made
"traditional" family values and anti homosexuality into a campaign issue.
It seems they may be hoisted by their own petard."

"What's a petard?" Roddy asked.

"It was a small bomb," I said.  Everyone looked at me oddly.  "I'm an
English major.  Shalespeare used the phrase in Hamlet.  It means to have a
scheme back fire."

"You win the top award in tonight's Trivial Pursuit game!" Marty said.

"I had guessed it meant getting fucked by your own cock," Roddy said.

"Damn close," I said.  "My cock won't reach that far."

"Roddy's will," Gill said.

"Not when it's hard," Roddy complained.  "It might reach, but it won't
bend. It's not good for anything but aim, unless it's hard."

The conversation continued speculating on the identity of Randall's patron.
The assumption was the man must have been a part of the inner ring of
advisors from the President's home state.  D.C. or even East Coast men
would have their own contacts in the gay world.  "They would need to hire a
hooker," the Admiral said.

"Wouldn't you know the local contacts?" I asked.

"Not necessarily," the Admiral replied.  "There are many gay men who want
to be discrete.  99% of their partners want exactly the same thing.  It
goes from the top to the bottom of the armed forces.  If you are reasonably
careful, it's fine."

"Do lower ranked men try to take advantage of it?" Gill asked.  "I've had
students come onto me to get a good grade."

"Not in my experience," the Admiral replied.  "Good sex is enough for most
men.  If there's an ulterior motive, you can usually tell."

"You're right about that.  Hero worship is another problem though," Gill
said.

The Admiral laughed.  "I'm too ugly to have that problem," he said.  "Even
those who worship power draw the line when they see me."

"I scare guys," Roddy said.

"That's what I like about you," Marty said.  "When you're nearby there's no
trouble.  I have to say you have the least desire to bully of any man I've
ever met."

"It's funny, my youngest brother's a real shrimp, less than five feet
tall," Roddy said.  "Bullies went after him in school.  I put a stop to
that, but I got to hate guys who do that.  Some men are big or mean and
think they can treat people like dirt.  They like to show off, and scare
the smaller guys and nerds.  There's always one problem with that."

"What's that, Roddy?" I asked.

"There's always one guy bigger and meaner than you."

"Are you that guy?" I asked.

"Nope, but I can do a fucking great imitation of a big, mean guy," Roddy
replied.  He smiled "I solved some problem for my brother.  It's odd, but
no one ever came to help the bully I was beating the shit out of.  Not
once."

"Did you ever get in trouble doing that?" Gill asked.

"Almost once.  The Principal saw me taking care of Monty Smith," Roddy
said.  "I thought my goose was cooked.  Monty ran to the Principal and told
on me.  The Principal told him, " He needed to be more careful, that was a
bad fall you took."  Monty was good after that."

"That our problem internationally.  We're the biggest and meanest guy in
town and we can do what we want." Marty mused.  "We don't need friends or
allies.  We don't need the truth on our side either."

"I get the feeling they think the laws of nature are bendable to their
will," Gill said.  "Global warming doesn't apply to us, only to lesser
nations.  As far as they're concerned the laws of gravity are the
"guidelines" of gravity.  Physical reality is for the weak."

"That may be, but follow the rules set out by the greatest of all
Americans, Deep Throat, follow the money," Herbie said.  "Vast sums of
money are vanishing into the pockets of friends.  No one is more in favor
of free enterprise that I, but free enterprise relies on laws.  A fair
price for a good product is one thing, but what is going on now is
stealing."

"I just realized something," I exclaimed.  "Randall's patron isn't hiring a
whore.  He's encouraging small business!" Everyone burst into laughter.

"Well, if he's a male hooker, I sure hope his business isn't that small!"
Herbie added.  The conversation continued in this vein for the rest of the
evening.  I hadn't laughed that much in years.  It was 11:00 when we went
to bed.  The group had split up into groups and we all wandered off to bed.

I was in the room with Bernard when someone knocked on the door.  It was
the Admiral.  "Jason, I got a little problem," he whispered.  "I'm trying
to get together with Gil.  He and Roddy are friends and Gill wants Roddy to
have a playmate.  Well, Roddy's a top, and there aren't many who can take
it."

"And I came to mind?" I said.  I spoke sternly, but when he looked at me I
smiled.

"I was hoping you could help us out?" the Admiral asked.  "Roddy's quite an
experience." I looked back into the room.  Bernard was in the shower.
Admiral Billy smiled.  "Don't worry. Bernard and Roddy get along well.
Bernard's all oral, you may get quite a work out, but it will be fun for
all of you."  He didn't wait for my answer.  Roddy walked up and came in
the room.  The Admiral left.

Roddy enveloped me in a bear hung.  "You don't look like you can take it,
but Billy says you can," he said.  "I'll be real careful." Bernard came
into the room, naked and drying himself off.

"Roddy!"

"Bernie, I was hoping we could all have a good time tonight?" Roddy said.

"Oh yes!" Bernard exclaimed.  Roddy dropped his robe and a second later we
were all sucking.

"Damn, your cock is almost too big to suck," Bernard said to Roddy.

"Don't worry, Bernie, I have a plan for that," Roddy said.  Roddy did have
a plan.  He came with lubricant and I found out Bernard liked poppers.  He
had the pure amyl nitrate in glass ampules. With lots of lube and a few
sniffs of the amyl, Roddy got in easily.

At least I think it was easy.  Once half his rod was in, I was out of it.
When I could think again, I was sitting on his lap skewered on his cock.
He had my legs spread wide, so my cock was fully available to Bernard.
Bernie was sucking me and licking Roddy's balls.  I am a good 170 pounds,
but Roddy could lift me up until only his cock head remained in my ass.
Then he lowered me back onto his cock.

When Roddy balanced me on his knob, Bernard would lick Roddy's shaft and
once and a while would try to get his tongue into my ass with Roddy's
monster.  He didn't get very far in that effort but he enjoyed it.