Date: Sun, 3 May 2015 21:34:24 -0400
From: bldhrymn@aol.com
Subject: Who Killed Koch Robin 3

Who Killed Koch Robin 3
By Bald Hairy Man

This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that, DON'T
read it! You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, and is
not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual.  No effort to portray
safe sex practices has been made.  If you have any comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com

Junior told me that his relationship with Koch intensified. They were
thinking about getting married.

"Did your father know about this?" I asked.

"No, but I told my sisters. They were fine with it," he said.  "They may
have told Dad, but we hadn't set a date. Dad would have been bad about
that, but my sisters thought they could handle him. If he disinherited me,
they would cut off relations with him.  He likes them."

"He doesn't like you?"

"Not really. When Mom died, I took care of the girls. He said that wasn't
the manly thing to do," Junior explained. "He was too busy to pay any
attention to us, but he had standards. He wanted me to go to an
out-of-state school and play football, not raise the girls. Dad said
Clinton, his right hand man, would take care of the girls. Clinton likes
them young and my sisters were scared of him. I promised that I would stay
with them.  They are away in college now. Everyone seemed to think I was a
wimp, except for Koch. He understood," Junior added.

 I did not think Junior was a suspect. It was possible he was a great
actor, but I doubted that. He seemed genuinely shocked and distraught.

I called Woodrow and asked him what he knew about King Cole and Clinton. Of
course, he knew a lot. King Cole was a plain, old-fashioned religious
charlatan. "He is one of those men who appeal to a certain kind of
uneducated man. He seems to attract those men who are too smart to need
education. Clinton is a slick public relations man. He runs a big poling
operation that finds out what way the wind is blowing and he tailors Cole's
message to suit," Woodrow said.

"What about Clinton's personal life" I asked.

"He is a 100% born again Christian, waiting for the right woman," Woodrow
said with a smirk. "Clinton is a big time family values man, but has no
family. He taught school for ten years, but he taught at seven schools. I
heard that he left quickly with no charges filed against him, but no
severance package either. Reading between the lines, I suspect there were
incidents and suspicions. Incidentally three of the schools were private
girls' schools.  He is estranged from his only brother.  The brother has
three daughters."

I told Woodrow about my conversation with Junior.

"I don't know the boy, but he seems to have more sense than his father," he
said. "There were stories that Junior didn't have it in him to be his
father's heir. It was not going to be a dynasty as seemed to be typical in
the world of media driven religion. A gay marriage would have been a real
shock."

"King Cole is not an accepting man?"

"Not at all, but it's worse than that. King Cole makes big bucks selling
self-help books and DVDs. He claims that if you buy the books and raise
your children according to his principles, you will automatically have
pure, virgin Christian children. In that world a gay son is the worst thing
that could happen to you."

Later I told Lance about Junior's interview. He knew much more about King
Cole than I did.  His Uncle was a member of the King Cole Posse. They were
true believers in King Cole's bullshit and had a tendency toward
violence. "My Uncle is one of those Christians who are so good and so
virtuous they can't find a church that meets their high standards," Lance
said. "He doesn't go to church but he knows everything there is to know
about what God wants. Uncle Joe lives alone, feuds with his neighbors and
listens to King Cole."

"My mom, who is an old fashioned Presbyterian Church lady type, said King
Cole is the apostle to the angry and the stupid. Mom tends to be
charitable, but she says Joe is too stupid to know just how stupid he is,"
Lance added. "His followers would go bat-shit crazy if the found out Junior
was gay."

"Killing Koch wouldn't make Junior less gay," I said.

"You are thinking logically, not like an old, angry nut job," Lance
said. "Uncle Joe was into Hitler before he found King Cole. The Posse is
made up of that sort of men."

Lance had done more checking into Donna Robin's friends. She seemed to like
either brainless socialites or borderline criminal types. That struck him
as an odd combination.

I asked him how close the criminal types were to the border. "Many have
records. Assault and battery and that sort of thing. The socialites have
mostly DWI arrests and drug busts. Some of the problem may be due to
youthful high spirits combined with low IQ. A few are in their later
twenties and early thirties. They should have outgrown that by now. None of
them seem to be gainfully employed," Lance said. "Donna pays their way."

"I talked to one of her former boyfriends," Lance said. "He told me she
would rather buy her friends than be pleasant. He thought being nice to
friends was too much effort for her. Incidentally, he had heard that a good
chunk of Koch's money went to her."

If follow the money is a basic approach to investigation, we now had two
possibilities. Koch's sister was the most direct beneficiary. I had not met
Donna yet. I did not know if she was merely a spoiled brat or a
sociopath. I know that being spoiled brat is stylish now and makes for
popular but depressing television programs. That could hide deeper
problems. I did not know if her friends could manipulate her, or if they
might decide to kill her brother. That would solve her financial problems
and they would hopefully reap the benefits.

King Cole ran a big organization that raked in cash from the true
believers. Would a gay marriage take a big chunk out of the take? I called
Pete DeTomas of the fraud division and asked him about King Cole. He said
he could not talk now, but asked me over for dinner at his house that
night. That was an indicator that King Cole's operation was a hot
potato. Pete knew a lot, but he was careful about spreading information.

I was getting ready to interview Donna and explore King Cole's son's
relationship with Koch when I received a call from Horace Quince.
Officially, Horace was a public relations manager for the police
force. Unofficially H.Q. was a messenger from on high. He brought messages
from the powers-that-be that could not go through official channels. I was
never sure who those powers were. Sometimes it seemed they were the Mayor
and council.  Other times they were the well-connected people who
influenced the mayor, police chief and any others who occupied official
positions.

Horace tended to be devious but he could be helpful. While I never trusted
him, he was manipulative, but not evil. I rarely ran into him in my
official role.  I had been too low on the totem pole to concern him. I did
see him often, but on a strictly unofficial level. Horace was both
intensely sexual, almost sex crazed and deep in the closet.  We had met
years ago, and I was a safe sexual partner, since I was in a similar
closet. My friends classified me as an obsessive workaholic who was too
engrossed in my work to have any sexual life at all.

Horace and I had nothing in common except for sex.  That was enough for
both of us. He asked me to drop by his house after work and have a
drink. Some times that was all sex, but other times it was to express
concerns and information as well as sex. He lived in the penthouse of a
high-rise apartment.

Horace was independently wealthy and his public relations work was unpaid.
He did not officially have any role at all. He specialized in giving
reporters information on deep background. As far as I knew, that
information was technically true, but tended to slanted in a certain
direction. I spent the afternoon going through forensic information and the
medical examiner's report. These were not particularly helpful, but if I
did not do it, it could cause a problem in a trial.

I arrived at his apartment at six. He had cocktails ready. Horace was tall,
slim, perfectly groomed and dressed. He would have been a perfect lounge
lizard in the 1930s.

"Brick, you do know that you have the case from hell?" he said as I drank a
bourbon and water.

"The Koch Robin case?" I asked. Horace smiled knowingly. "We are looking at
two possible groups of suspects, both of whom are well connected and very
high profile," I added.

"I heard you had met Junior and had been looking into Donna's harem," he
said.

"Donna's harem?"

"She has a stable of men who remain on call and available," Horace
said. "She likes them to be financially dependent on her, but she has
considerable sexual skills. At one time, I thought the attraction was her
easy availability, but she apparently is good in bed too. I don't know if
her sexual excesses are due to mental problems, or just her natural
inclinations."

"She seems to have bad taste in men," I remarked.

"Koch was such a nice boy, it seems that she decided to be as bad as she
could be to set herself apart," Horace said. "Again, that may be a mental
problem."

"What about King Cole?" I asked.

"King Cole is pure, unadulterated, born-again, trailer trash," he
exclaimed. "He is a classic con man. His wife was sweet and uninvolved in
anything other than her children."

"Would having his son marry another man be a problem?" I asked.

"It certainly would," Horace said. "Most people think King Cole is over the
top heterosexual, but he is actually over the top sexually in general. He
is into men and women and would do sheep and goats if they were
available. He is a slam-bang-thank-you-ma'am kind of man. There is no
emotional connection or grace in his sexual life, but there is a lot of
sex."

"How does he keep it secret?"

"He devotes a lot of his time to solitary prayer and meditation," Horace
explained. "I met him when I was much younger and I doubt he remembers
me. At the time I was excited by crude men and I thought he fit the bill."

"It was not a success?"

"Let's just say, it was very fast." Horace said. "It was a
disappointment. I might mention that you have never been a disappointment
in any respect." He stood and we went to the bedroom.

Underneath the carefully groomed exterior, Horace was a slim fit, Otter. We
met because he liked crude, common men. He liked the way I look.  I look
like construction worker. Physically I turned him on. He wanted me to
dominate and use him. I am not into that, but my body was what he wanted
and it worked out.

Horace also liked one of my physical quirks.  I have big balls and they
tend to produce generous amounts of sperm. The first time we met, he sucked
me off and he took the load. I then fucked him and he took a load in the
ass. A little later, I fucked him a second time and I made a second
deposit.

Until then, Horace had not realized that he loved man cream so much. Taking
three loads in one night was a month's worth of sex for him. My cock was
also thicker than he liked.  I had stretched his hole, but the extra lube I
injected into him made it better for him.  The next time we met, I
discovered the extra lube had made it a lot better for him.

He was 100% bottom, but I sat on his cock at our second meeting. As soon as
his cock head cleared my sphincter, he was shooting.  I could feel him
squirting as I impaled myself.  When he tried to lick his cum out of my ass
afterwards, I knew that Horace was a sperm hound. I would have thought that
an obsession with sperm was a thin reed to base a friendship on. I was
wrong about that.  We became friends with particularly good and generous
benefits.

He was a great sucker and when we got used to each other he learned how to
make it last. Horace like to keep things neat, so he took every drop of
semen. He often kissed me afterwards and then fed me my load. Once, I spit
it out onto his hole and shoved it into his ass with my cock. Even after an
orgasm I am usually, three-quarters erect.  Using my own sperm as lube gave
me a definite tingle.

This made him shoot, hands free. It was that good for him.  It was good for
me too, as he shot off his ass twitched and spasmed. My cock liked that. I
would slowly pump until I was hard again. After that, we usually did the
same thing each time we got together. There was not much variety, but it
worked for both of us.

He was sucking me when the phone rang. He did not answer, but he heard the
message. "This is Tom, I am free after all. Pick up phone if you are
there."  Horace picked up the phone.

"I am here, where are you?" Horace asked. He heard the answer and added,
"Let me put you on hold for a minute."

"Tom is a friend who would like to meet you," Horace said. "He is young,
very handsome and into your type. He is also one of Donna's former
boyfriends. You will like him."

"I don't know .  .  ." I started to say.

"You will like him a lot, I can guarantee that," he said. It turned out
that Tom was outside the apartment house and he was at the door five
minutes later. Tom was not what I expected; he was about thirty, a little
shorter than I am, solidly built and handsome. He wasn't pretty, but he was
attractive. He had a killer smile and a firm handshake. He looked me
over. I was wearing only my jockeys, and the smiled more. We went directly
to the bedroom. He was naked by the time I dropped my shorts. A second
later, he was sucking my cock with enthusiasm and skill.



I am not prone to love at first sight, but soon I knew he was. He was too
slim to be a bear, and too beefy to be an otter. His body hair was silky,
rather than curly like my own. Horace stood back and he let us go at it. We
sixty-nined and that was a total success. He had a beautiful cock, like a
Greek statue, but bigger. He oozed rich thick precum.

"Damn, I love precum," he moaned as he sucked mine. I do not fall in love
easily, but my cock had other ideas. I knew that his cock and my cock
shared a common enthusiasm. I deep throated him and as I pulled back, he
began to ejaculate. He shook, shivered and moaned as he unloaded. I took it
all.

"Are you done?" I asked.

"I doubt it, I will be ready to go again in ten or fifteen minutes," he
said. "Play with Horace and I will be ready to join in. Horace told me you
are a good fucker. Would you mind if I watch?"

"Not at all," Horace said. Tom rolled to the side of the king-sized bed and
Horace took his place. I was a little uneasy about being watched, but I was
not a problem. Horace was accommodating as usual. He was on his back and I
was slow thrusting, when Tom embraced me. He caressed my hairy chest and
gut.

"Some girls told me I needed to shave my body," he whispered. "I like the
hair; it's masculine." I knew my body turned him on.  He was erect again
and his cock rested on my ass crack. He rubbed his cock against my crack
and I shifted to give him better access.

I had never been fucked while I was fucking another man, and I can
recommend it highly. As soon as I was deep in Horace's ass, Tom would ease
his tool into me. That would push me deeper into Horace. Ten minutes later,
we had a triple orgasm. Again, this was a new experience and a good one.

We broke apart and Horace cleaned up the drool.

"Horace said you know Donna?" I asked.

"It would be more correct to say I knew her. We dated some in high school,
but we grew apart," Tom said. "She was always demanding, but as she got
older she became odd. She had everything a teenage girl could want, but she
was not satisfied. She comes from a wealthy family, As far as I could tell
she was on the top rung of the social ladder. I do not think they were
wealthy enough. It was strange."

"Donna wanted to star in the school play, but she didn't want to learn the
lines. She was one of the mean girls you find in exclusive private
schools," Tom explained. "One of my friends said she was the type who would
go to a friend's birthday party and be pissed the presents weren't all for
her. I remember going to her own party and being told my gift wasn't good
enough."

"She seems to like slumming now," I said.

"That happened after she went to college. She made it through one semester
at Vassar and came home. She said it was not challenging enough. When she
came back she went bottom fishing," Tom said.

"Did she get along with her brother?"

"No, she thought he got all the attention and her parents ignored her," Tom
explained. "My mom said it was the other way around. Koch was a good kid
who did well in school and was polite and courteous. Mom said it was a
dream child, effortless. Donna became more and more demanding as she got
older. Unfortunately she was Mr. Robin's little princess. She could do no
wrong as far as he was concerned. She got all the attention, but it was
never enough."

"Do you know any of her current friends?" I asked.

"Not really, but I met a few at a beach party a few years ago," Tom
said. "They were drunk and had been taking pills. I left the party
early. One of them ran into my car. Travis was driving Donna's Mercedes. I
was at a red stop light. Travis was mad I had not run it and then he
claimed it had turned green.  It was a bad scene, but there were witnesses
who backed me up. The police took an immediate dislike to him."

"It was lucky for Travis the police arrived when they did. He got in the
face of a little old lady who had seen the accident.  Travis turned vulgar
and be became threatening. One of the other witnesses was a truck driver
and he and another woman came to the woman's aid. The driver was built like
Godzilla and Travis is a twerp," Tom added. "If Travis had just said he was
sorry and it was his fault it would have been nothing.  He got DWI and
drunk and disorderly in addition to the traffic fines."

"Where was Donna during the accident?" I asked.

"She was drunk too and backed her boyfriend 100%," Tom said. "It is a
surprise that she just lied. I was her friend at one time. The cops
arrested her for drunk and disorderly, but her Dad got her off.  By the
way, you are either Donna's best and closest friend ever or you do not
exist. There is no median. It is 100% or zero."

"A day ago a friend told me he had overhead a guy talking at a bar. The guy
said that his bitch had just come into some big money and he had it
made. The bitch was Donna.  She joined him later. It was a little
celebration. Donna said she had to spend the next few days at home until
the funeral," Tom continued.

"Who was the man?" I asked.

"My friend didn't know him, but it was at a dive called Jim's Bar &
Grill. He did not get the man's name; she called him Baby. He was heavily
tattooed, with a ring of swastikas around his neck," Tom added. He had to
go and he gave me his phone number. I stayed a little longer talking with
H.Q. and then went home.