Date: Tue, 7 Oct 2014 19:13:40 -0400
From: bldhrymn@aol.com
Subject: The Detective part 2

The Detective 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, comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com

If you enjoy these stories. Please consider giving a donation to Nifty!

Sherlock was a difficult man to befriend. He was stunningly self-centered
and he tended to ignore friends and acquaintances. He was exceedingly
methodical and obsessive when he was engaged in a case. He was concerned
about me only when we were sexually coupled.

While I provided deeply satisfactory sexual release for him, he was prone
to become involved with unsatisfactory playmates. If I were away, Sherlock
would wander the streets looking for men. This was usually late at night
when it was dark.

Let me confess, at first my attachment to him was largely sexual. Sex with
him was a different order of magnitude that with any other man. When I
first knew him, I told myself that each time I connected with him would be
the last time. It took a year to realize that wasn't going to happen. The
sex was compelling.

It took me that long to realize he was a great man with great flaws. He was
brilliant and gifted. Most of the time he was entirely in control of his
mighty intellect.  His superb skills as an investigator were second to
none. Most people never meet a genius of Sherlock's magnitude. I am a man
of above average intelligence and aptitude. I came to realize that helping
him would be the most I could do to help humanity.

In some ways, my wounds prepared me for living with Sherlock. I had been
though much worse than a slighting comment or insensitive remark. This
tendency toward tolerating his slights was reinforced by his sexual skills
and his near total lack of jealousy. I had enjoyable connections with men
before and during my time with Sherlock. That did not bother him at all. He
and I were free agents.

He could direct his brilliant mind to finding ways to intensify the sexual
experience. Given his general self-centered [BW1]approach to life, he
recognized that I was necessary for him to achieve the heights of ecstasy
he craved. My general anatomy and my genitals in particular were essential
for his pleasure. He was experienced sexually with men and women, but he
knew I was necessary to achieve his deepest sexual fulfillment.

When he was engaged in a case or investigation he had no need for men, or
for any other persons. A puzzle could drive any other thoughts from his
mind. While he discarded me, he also neglected eating and sleeping. I felt
slightly pleased that I was one of the necessities of life he could do
without.

I had known him for six months when he began working on case for the
Maharaja of Pandur. Pandur is a minor princely state between Bombay and
Delhi. It is half Hindu and half Sikh. The Maharaja possessed a sacred
Lingam that united the state and suppressed the rivalries and violence that
sometimes afflicted Indian states. The lingam, a stone in the form of a
penis, had been stolen by British soldiers or adventurers and was believed
to be in London.

Sherlock was to find the stone and return it to Pandur. The stone was
normally hidden in a temple and put on view only at the winter
solstice. Sherlock got the case in early October. The situation was the
sort that Sherlock liked.

There had been no ransom demand, nor had the lingam appeared on the
market. Sherlock seemed to be exceptionally well informed on the subject of
sacred lingams, and he knew there was a market for them. Until this case, I
had no idea lingams existed, not alone that there was a market for
them. Obscure knowledge was a major interest of Sherlock, and he associated
with men who collected such information the way some men collect stamps.

He also associated with a group of men he called the Irregulars.  They were
handsome young men of open minded sexuality, who combined effete
sensibilities with shallow knowledge. I found them unattractive, although
they were considered to be handsome by most. Most were shallow, superficial
and close to being blithering idiots. That was their secret weapon.

No one suspected these idiot fops with any ulterior motives.  Thye could
asked stupid questions and be regarded as gossips. Most tended to be
waiters, footmen and barbers. Some Irregulars were gentlemen who spent
their time in clubs. Most of these men became members because their fathers
or grandfathers had been members. They moved in fashionable circles. They
talked, or more properly babbled continuously. They reminded me of little
mice. Thye were everywhere, but no one noticed.

There was a problem prying the information from the fops' minuscule
brains. Sherlock used his sexual skills to work the information out of
them. I did not approve of them; it seemed to me that they were beneath his
dignity. He found them attractive, amusing and useful.

Sherlock decided the lingam was either in a collector's secret museum, or
in a soldier's back yard garden. Sherlock had connections in the India
office. He found out what regiments were stationed in Pandur and which had
returned to Britain. He was particularly interested in regiments with a
record of poor discipline.

 He soon focused on a regiment of engineers. Their commander died a month
after arrival in India. There had been an incident of civil unrest at the
time and the commanding General was too busy with more pressing matters to
worry about the leadership for a regiment of engineers. A temporary and
unsuitable officer stayed in charge of the regiment for the rest of their
deployment. The lingam had a weight of 200-300 pounds and moving it was no
simple matter.  This would not have been a problem for the engineers.

Sherlock also investigated private "collectors" assuming that the lingam
might not have been stolen by drunken engineers.  The lingam would be very
expensive, thus he was interested in wealthy men. Sherlock and I visited
the British Museum and met with one of Mycroft's friends, a man called
Goodhue King-Smyth. Mycroft moved in circles even stranger than Sherlock's.
Seconds after I met Goodhue I realized his eccentricities made Sherlock
seem like a regular bloke. He had a vast, copper colored, mutton-chop
beard, blue eyes and dressed as a dandy.

He was an orientalist, and was obsessed by India. Goodhue knew Mycroft, but
not Sherlock. He spoke carefully and was not particularly forth coming. He
was one of those men who thought knowledge was precious and that it should
not be wasted on lesser men, he had to know Sherlock before the talked
openly. Sherlock explained the problem in Pandur and the potential for
communal violence if the lingam was not in place on the solstice. I had
been surprised that Sherlock had asked me come along the meet Goodhue. I
later found out that while Sherlock had a taste for elegant young mem, he
knew that Goodhue preferred the opposite. He liked men who were hardier.

As a battle-hardened and wounded veteran, I was the sort of man Goodhue
found attractive. He asked us to dine with him. Sherlock said he was
occupied, but that I was free. At the time, I did not realize that I was a
sexual offering to Goodhue. I wasn't that interested in dinner with him,
but it would have been rude to reject the invitation,

Goodhue lived near the museum in an ordinary house. Inside the front door,
the place was an oriental fantasy on Indian themes. His servant, Mr. Singh,
served us drinks and he had prepared an excellent Indian style dinner. The
conversation focused on Lingams and the role of the penis in eastern
religion. It was interesting and academic. Like with Sherlock, a
conversation with Goodhue was mostly listening.  We drank quite a bit of
very fine wine.

"I have to admit that my interest in symbolic cocks is much less than my
interest in the flesh and blood organ," I said during a brief lull in the
conversation. "That was especially the case after I matured and understood
the full potential of the penis." When I said that I knew I had drunk far
more than I should have.

"That is very much the same for me," Goodhue replied. "When I was younger,
I labored under the impression that the cock was primarily a drain. It was
rather a shock when I discover it had another function. My family was
loving and affectionate, but they suffered from a serious case of
Methodism. The sexual use of the penis was never mentioned. It is at the
core of human reproduction, but that subject did not arise. I had private
tutors who were of a puritanical bent.  I was stunningly unaware."

"I have never used it for reproductive purposes, but I did discover some
recreational uses," I said. "I was shocked to discover it was called the
solitary vice. It never seemed like a vice to me."

"There is an easy way to avoid the solitary vice," Goodhue said in a
whisper. "It is very exciting when you do it with a friend."

I smiled. "I had a slightly older friend who showed me how to do it," I
said. "When I was in the army, I served under a Sergeant-Major who had done
a thorough exploration of the ways men can enjoy themselves.  I was a
willing student."

"I wish I had known someone like that," Goodhue said. "I would have been a
willing student too." We understood each other and a few minutes later, we
were naked in his bedroom. My body is both hairy and scarred, but that
didn't bother Goodhue. My wounds just increased his desire for me.  He was
quite smooth and it looked as if it had never seen sunlight, but his
well-formed, manly equipment was above average size.

I would not say he was unexperienced, but I think he had never been with a
man who admitted he enjoyed it as much as I did. One cannot accidentally
suck a cock, but some men pretended that was the case. They pretend there
was a cock nearby and it just happened to end up in in their mouth. I
admitted I enjoyed man sex.  That was new to Goodhue and it excited
him. Excited is the wrong world. He was much more comfortable with a man
how admitted he liked sex and wanted sex with him.

Goodhue was exceedingly careful about my injuries.  He was interested in my
genitals and he didn't disturb or stress the rest of my battered body. He
was gentle. After the conversation about the sacred lingam, his approach
was properly reverential. He did not suck me off; he massaged my cock with
his lips and tongue. This was stimulating and exciting for me. My genitals
produce sexual fluid as soon as it is stimulated. Some men complained that
I drooled like a leaky faucet. The Sergeant-Major by contrast considered it
an attractive feature.  He liked to milk me.

Goodhue was not use to having his sexual partners respond to his attentions
until the orgasm. He loved my drooling member. In his mind, the cock was a
sacred organ at the core of human existence. That the divine organ
responded to his worshipful ministrations excited him greatly.

When I sucked his member, I think he was surprised. He would have been
quite happy sucking me without reciprocation. I overtly enjoyed is organ.
His foreskin was extra-long and covered his bulbous cock head even when
erect. This I found quite stimulating. He was very clean but there was a
considerable accumulation of sex juices. I think he had been oozing since
he met me. I was flattered. I found out he had never sucked as he was
sucking.

Goodhue was a fastidious man and his drooling cock was a concern to him. He
hated a mess. As I savored his drool in my mouth, he relaxed and was able
to savor my own juices. He was reserved, but I knew that reserve does not
apply to a cock. He relaxed when his discovered I enjoyed as much as he
did.  He could let things flow without embarrassment.

Fifteen minutes later, he was more surprised when I sat on his cock. He had
been the passive recipient of his partners' cock, but he had never
experience the feeling of his own cock in a tight and welcoming ass. Both
Sherlock and Goodhue found my ass particularly appealing. Sitting on it, I
was in control and could play with it.

Goodhue looked delicate and seemed timid and effete. I am quite the
opposite and he liked that. He was very much a man, but his mannerisms
seemed effeminate. That I enjoyed the same sexual activities as he did
excited him. He wanted to be with a true, battle tested man. I was both
manly and enjoyed man sex.

He shot off in my ass as I sat on him.  Later that night I vigorously
fucked him doggy style and seeded him.  I think my cock was a bit large for
his ass. He winced a few times, but begged me to go deeper. He loved
it. Goodhue loved both my cock and wanted my load in his ass. He felt me
ejaculate and that induced him to climax.

I spent the night with him, although I did not get much sleep. He could not
do enough for me and I couldn't do enough for him. We were mutually
insatiable. He sucked me to a climax and then ate my seed as it spurted.
Goodhue was not just taking my load, he was having communion. He asked me
to fuck him again the next morning and deposit my seed as deep in him as
possible.  I was able to do that, he told me that knowing my seed was deep
in his ass excited him.

A few days later Goodhue gave Sherlock several leads as to possible
collectors. Sherlock had offered me as a sexual present to Goodhue.
Goodhue appreciated that. Once Sherlock had names, he dispatched his
Irregulars to investigate them. He had a huge array of friends and
contacts. The irregulars were social butterflies who knew everyone it
seemed.

Goodhue and I became quite attached. We became friend and sexual
intimates. We were not lovers in a conventional sense.  He admired me, but
loved my genitals. He craved my sexual fluids and especially my
sperm. Oddly, he was not interested in just anyone's sperm. A wounded
soldier's sperm excited him greatly. It seemed to enhance his sense of
worth. I think he thought it made him manlier.

Sherlock had a second task for me. Men from London made up most of the
Engineering regiment that had been stationed in Pandur. A pub in the East
End of London, The George, served as a meeting place for them. The
industrial East End with all of its factories and mills provided many jobs
for engineers.

Sherlock asked me to visit the pub since I was a former military man and
fit in with the men more than he. Sherlock did not have the common touch
and his attitude toward ordinary men was often borderline offensive. I
would say the pub was of the middling sort. It was not elegant or
pretentious at all, but it wasn't the unsavory dive one associated with
East End establishments.

By that time, I was quite use to my limp and other physical problems and I
ignored them. I forgot how pronounced they were. The men at the George
immediately knew I was wounded soldier and were sympathetic. I soon got
along well with them. Anyone who had served in India had stories of that
exotic place.

I made some friends and drinking partners quickly. Among these was a
Sergeant Major. They are a recognizable type and tend to have similar
personalities. They know their men well, an often run the regiment. A
sensible officer leave most of the day-to-day operation to him and trust
his judgment.

Raleigh Dudley was a bluff, hearty and demanding man. That was standard
issue for a Sergeant Major. I mentioned my former friend in my own
regiment.  They knew each other. I said I was close to him as a medical
officer.

"How close?" he asked. I told him it was very close. He winked at me. We
understood each other. A day later he took me home to his small house. I
pretended that I had too much to drink. We both knew what we wanted. It was
in a dismal neighborhood, but his house was neat, clean and pleasant.

Most men of his rank want to fuck. It was problematic for him to take the
cock of a man of inferior rank. Now that he was out of the army, he wanted
it in the ass. Raleigh liked a slow anal massage. It took some effort on my
part to slow down, but I managed and it was pleasant. He tended to purr as
I slowly massaged his innards. I discovered if I pulled on of his legs up
it shifted his prostate. I made a direct hit and Raleigh moaned.

He was experienced sexually, but as a top man, not a bottom. I was good at
both. I tend to be analytic once the initial burst of excitement
diminishes. I liked to explore my partner and discover what excites him
most.

I soon discovered his prostate and found that rubbing my knob against it
excited him greatly.  After a while, he begged me to stop.  I didn't think
he was sincere. When I finally stopped, I quickly changed positions and
sucked his cock. He was ripe and soon I took his load. It was impressive
for a man of his age. His cock was good, but his balls deserved to be
displayed in the Crystal Palace. We talked between sexual bouts.

Raleigh had a hard time saying anything negative about an officer. He towed
the official Army line even in retirement. He had a friend, Nigel, who had
been the company clerk. Raleigh told me that Nigel like to bottom and he
liked a little variety. He wanted me to meet his friend.

I think Nigel would have been his lover if Raleigh allowed himself to think
that way. Raleigh recruited playmates for him. We connected. While Raleigh
towed the company line, Nigel talked nonstop. Nigel was a small, slight man
and he had been regularly fucked by Raleigh for twenty years. Raleigh's
cock is shaped like a large caliber canon, and Nigel's ass was not tight at
all. I tried fucking him and then decided to sit on Nigel's modest member.

It was thin, and not very long.  It was also hard as steel and long enough
to give my prostate a good work out. My ass is nice and tight and Nigel
loved it. I felt him squirting soon after I sat on it, but he didn't go
soft. He liked to talk as I used my ass to massage his tool. His former
commander, Captain Fitz Martin, was a slacker who combined a fixation with
minor details with a near total inability to lead. He was jealous of his
position and would not allow other officers to fill in the gaps.

He told me that one group in the regiment was obsessed with finding
treasure. They were looking for the sort of treasure that plays a role in
novels, such as ruby encrusted idols. The ringleader was a Corporal
Billings. He was told about the lingam and went hunting for it and assumed
it was made of some precious materials. That was all that Nigel knew.

When I gave the information to Sherlock he had already ruled out the
collectors. He needed a new lead. I was surprised at the speed at which
worked.