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Tales from Gledhill House

Chapter Eight

‘The squad cars were lined up outside the ramshackle building on the banks of the Hudson when I arrived at the crime scene,’ Aiden began. He was the latest guest at Gledhill House who was prepared to tell a story from his past in exchange for dinner. As a retired FBI agent, Aiden had plenty of stories to tell.

As I got out of my car, a police officer walked over to me to tell me something of what I could expect to see inside the building. I learned that the building had been used from time to time by porno movie makers and that the dead guy appeared to be the director of one such set up. He had been identified by the pile of clothes that was found in the corner of the room in which the naked body lay. Jules Fern, although that was probably not his real name, specialized in bondage films and was in his forties. He sometimes appeared in his own movies.

I entered the building and saw the dead guy stretched out on a grubby looking mattress, as I had been told he was naked except for a harness of straps around his upper body; there were no signs of wounds of any kind to indicate how he had died. Dr. Melchis, the police medico was there and greeted me. ‘Hi! Looks like he has been dead for anything up to six hours but I won’t know the cause of death until I get him down to the morgue.’ Apart from the dead man’s clothes there was nothing in the building apart from some hand held video equipment that indicated Fern may have been using the place for a shoot.

I reported the facts back to my boss and we later learned that Jules Fern had died of natural causes, a heart attack. The fact that he was naked and alone in the building was a mystery. Someone must have been with him at the time of his death and yet they had not reported it. My boss wanted me to investigate. He knew I was gay and so told me to go undercover and make enquiries in the gay community. Easier said than done – where the hell can I start? I wondered. As Fern’s movies featured bondage more than any other forms of gay sex, I decided to go to what was probably the most popular of the clubs frequented by guys into that kind of erotica, Leather Knights.

Dressed in tight leather pants, a leather jacket, boots and a leather cop style hat that were all as black as ink, I wore a skin tight white t-shirt that made a stark contrast to the rest of my attire. I entered the club and took a stand at the bar. The barman greeted me with a friendly smile and produced the cold beer I ordered. ‘Not seen you in here before,’ he said. I told him that I was new in town and had heard that this was a good place to hook up with people in the porno movie industry.
‘You need to speak with the boss,’ he said and he directed me to an office at the top of the stairs behind the bar. I knocked on the office door and was told to enter. The guy that the barman had referred to as the boss was seated behind a desk that was set across the corner opposite the door. He asked my business and I told him that I was hoping to make contact with a director or producer in the porno industry.

‘Gay or hetro?’ he asked.

‘Would I be here if I was into hetro stuff?’ I replied. ‘I’m gay and into bondage.’

‘Take off your jacket,’ he said. ‘So I can see more of your physique.’ I removed my leather jacket and threw it over the back of a chair. He got up from behind the desk and cast an admiring eye over my body. I have to say I was much younger in those days and I worked on my body at the gym. I was not a muscle freak but was in real good shape. He pushed me backwards so that I was stretched over the desk, my head hanging over the opposite side.

‘Just testing your reaction,’ he said. He pushed up my shirt and I felt his tongue plow a wet trail from my navel to my collar bone. His teeth proceeded to nip my flesh and my nipples in turn. I have to admit that I did not find the experience unpleasant. He continued to run his tongue all over my upper body and I felt his weight on top of me as he stretched up to kiss me on the lips.

‘You’ll get plenty of this if you want to be a porno star,’ he said. His hands found my belt and unfastening the buckle, he pulled the belt free of my pants. He plunged his hand down the top of my pants and grabbed my dick. I was already firming up and I saw him smile as he groped around in my underwear. My zipper was tugged down and my dick pulled free of my briefs. His tongue was now applied to my cock, first the head and then along the shaft, he licked my shaved balls and used his teeth to pull down on my ball sack. He continued to lick my shaft and then took it into his mouth.

I gasped and made all the usual ‘Oh fuck... Oh my God... Oh yes...’ sounds that guys make in the porno action shots. He seemed impressed. He grabbed my pants and whipped them down to my ankles; my boots prevented them coming right off. That did not concern him as he pushed my legs up so that my knees were up against my chest, my feet waving in the air. I could hear items from the desk falling to the floor as he rimmed my ass, his tongue must have been longer than the average as it found its way deep inside me. His belt buckle made a ringing sound as it hit the floor when he dropped his pants. He gasped as his pushed his firm erection into my spit slicked hole.

Yet more items fell from the desk as he plunged deeper and deeper into me. He pressed his thumbs hard into my flesh as he held me from moving across his desk as he forced himself ever harder into me. He jerked on my cock until I came which acted as a signal for him to pull out of my ass and jerk on his own cock until he came over my cock and balls. He worked our juices together with his fingers and proceeded to lick my body clean. Only then did he let me get up from the desk.

I watched him pull up his pants and crush his still hard cock back inside them as I adjusted my own clothes. I guess I passed my audition! I was introduced to a number of guys who did make films with the late Jules Fern and was to learn that everyone had fled from the shoot when Fern suddenly had a seizure and died as one of the ‘actors’ was a few days short of his eighteenth birthday and it would have led to trouble had the authorities been aware of the boy’s presence. The investigation was closed and no prosecutions were made. My own film career got no further than the audition!

'Well that was some story!' Scott exclaimed. George agreed saying, 'That may have been an undercover assignment but you did not stay covered for long! Nice story Aiden!'
 
Nice story indeed! *|* (!) (!w!) ..|

What's Gledhill's address again? Do they have a web site? :-< (group)

Keep smilin'!! :kiss: (*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
I second that enquiry into addresses and forms of communique'!

Very nice installment, indeed!
 
Nice story indeed! *|* (!) (!w!) ..|

What's Gledhill's address again? Do they have a web site? :-< (group)

Keep smilin'!! :kiss: (*8*)
Chaz :luv:

I second that enquiry into addresses and forms of communique'!

Very nice installment, indeed!

Directions are similar to those for the Never Never Land - turn left at the first star to the right and keep straight on 'till morning or words to that effect!

Gledhill House is a great place to find lost boys, I guess;)

Currently on the look out for a new story-telling guest by the way.
 
Maybe Dave, Mate could make a guest appearance under either noms de plume.
 
Chapter Nine

The newest guest at Gledhill House was a pale looking young man, though probably nearer thirty than twenty, who had a serene quality about him. At first Scott and George had speculated that he was a man of the cloth. He was quietly polite when he booked in and ad mitted to being enchanted by the room to which he was shown, delighting in the view. George said that he felt it would probably be improper to ask him if he had a story to tell but Scott said, ‘What’s the harm in asking. He knows that this is a hotel that welcomes gay men as guests and I saw that he cast an appreciative eye over the ostensive gay artwork that decorates our walls, he even checked out your crotch.’

‘That seems to be an exaggeration!’ George exclaimed. ‘My crotch has been around so long that a young guy like him wouldn’t give it a second glance let alone check it out.’ Scott laughed, and commented under his breath so that George could not hear the sarcastic response. He then said loud enough for George to hear, ‘I’ll put the idea to him and see what he has to say for himself.’

It was late afternoon and Stephen, the young guest, had returned from a stroll and was sat on the patio admiring the view. Scott had served him with a beer from the bar and took the opportunity to approach him about the matter of a story. Stephen thought for a while and Scott feared that he was going to refuse but no, Stephen said, yes he did have a story that would interest his hosts and would be happy to tell it after dinner when they and the couple of other guests were having coffee in the lounge.

‘I had been an altar boy and in the choir at the church where I grew up for several years,' Stephen began. 'After I had been to college, I settled in my own apartment in the same town and so I continued my involvement at the church,’ Steven began. ‘Before you jump to any conclusions, I must make it clear that Father Martin was a truly God-fearing priest and never laid a hand on me or anyone else in the parish! However it was due to my church attendance that I met the man who was to change my life. It was a late weekend in spring when the choir was engaged to sing at a funeral. The deceased was a leading businessman in the town and a large congregation was expected. The cortege arrived and the ornate casket was carried into the church by four handsome looking bearers. I had expected that such a prominent man would have had members of his family or friends who would be bearers but they were from the funeral parlour that had been engaged to handle all the arrangements. After they had placed the casket on a bier in front of the altar, the bearers took their places in seats that were specially set aside for them in the choir.

As the service progressed, I noticed that one of the four bearers was looking in my direction. I was later to learn that he went by the name of Patrick McKenna and was the nephew of the mortician. He rode in the car that followed the hearse from the church to the graveyard, I was in the one behind it carrying the order of service for Father Martin – he was in the hearse accompanying the late great businessman on his final earthly journey. The internment over, Father Martin rode with family members to the reception for the many mourners to which I was not invited. The men from the funeral home clambered into their various limos and drove off leaving me to walk back to the church with the odds and ends the priest wanted me to leave in the vestry.

As I set off, I saw that Patrick had hung back; he stepped out from behind a particularly large headstone and fell in beside me as I strolled up the path to the cemetery gates. ‘Mind if I walk with you?’ he asked. I said no and felt myself blush a little. I had admired him during the service and was flattered that he took notice of me. He wanted to know what I was doing that evening. I said I had nothing planned. He told me that he had a couple of rooms on the upper floors of the funeral home. His uncle liked to have someone on the premises over night ‘just in case.’ I asked, ‘In case of what?’

Patrick laughed, ‘Body snatchers I reckon,’ he said. ‘You’re not serious?’ I replied. He explained that there had been a break-in at the home years ago and his uncle, too mean to install a burglar alarm always had a staff member live on the premises. As he, Patrick, was the only single man on the staff at that time it fell to his lot to be the night watchman. ‘I’d be glad of a little company if you’re free tonight,’ he said. I agreed to go and he suggested 7 o’clock and he would get in some food from the local deli.

I walked up to the funeral home door at seven sharp and found him standing there waiting for me. He had changed out of his formal clothes and was wearing a t-shirt over some sports pants with some sneakers on his otherwise bare feet. He smiled when he saw that I was similarly attired. ‘Come on up,’ he said and closing and locking the door behind us led me up a flight of stairs. The room at the top was comfortably if a little shabbily furnished; the TV set being the only modern item in the room. The food was set out on a coffee table in front of an overstuffed sofa and we sat down to eat.

Over our meal I told him that I felt that it was a little intimidating to think of living over a place where there could be one or more corpses for company. He laughed and said that he had got used to it. We see all life here, he told me. I questioned ‘life’ but what he meant was that they saw all manner of people who came to all manner of different ends. He told me how sad it was to see young people cut off in their prime and especially good looking people who bore no scars other than that of the pathologist’s searching knives. He said that he would often be aroused when preparing handsome male bodies for burial but never considered necrophilia. He did although wonder what it would be like to make love in a casket.

When I said jokingly that could be fun he took me at my word and led me to the room where a wide selection of coffins was stored. ‘Put this on,’ he said and handed me a faux suit that was used to dress the deceased. It was an all in one dress suit, shirt and pants complete with a tie that was fully open at the back like a hospital gown. I stripped off and did as he bid and he then got me to lie down in a large casket that was padded and lined in white satin. Thankfully, he did not put the lid on but stripped off and pulled a white shroud over his head.

The whole thing was quite bizarre but quite a turn on never the less. Patrick fumbled with my “suit” and found my growing erection. He massaged it to help it along and then leaned into the casket to lick and suck on it. I lay there corpse like letting him have his way. I peered over the side of the coffin and saw that his shroud was tented by what must have been a seven or eight inch cock. I was tempted to touch it but my role was to play dead. As much as he was giving me pleasure, it was all too one sided. I decided to join the phantom world of the un-dead and vampire-like I sat up in the casket and rather than bite him in the neck I drew his face to mine and kissed him long and deep.

Soon my burial suit and his shroud lay discarded on the floor to the store room as I dragged him laughing back up the stairs to his bed. There we made more conventional love, he topping me then me topping him until we were both exhausted. Our strange liaison lasted the remainder of the summer until I left town to take up a new post in a city many miles away. I never pass a funeral parlour but I think of Patrick and wonder what he may be doing, hoping that he found plenty of living partners or maybe a partner for life.'

Thanking Stephen, their young guest, for his unusual story, Scott could not help noticing that George was looking a little pale and shuddering at the thought of sex in such an environment.
 
Wow, Auto! Now that's my kind of story........lol How fortunate for Patrick that he found a living...Steven... to practice his sexual endeavours. I would dearly love to work with Patrick as well............

Craiger
 
Being a Preacher's Kid (which I 'may' have mentioned before :lol: :slap: ), I'm not exactly a stranger to funeral homes, including the 'non-public' areas, and what goes on there. :eek: :badgrin:

However, Steven's story definitely put's a different 'spin' on anything I ever encountered in that environment! (!) (!w!)

Good job, Auto! :=D: ..| (group)

Keep smilin'!! :kiss: (*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
A great tale of the not-so-macabre behind-the-scenes at the funeral home!
 
Chapter ten

‘Patrick will be here at the weekend.’

‘What?’ asked Scott.

‘I said Patrick will be here at the weekend,’ George replied.

‘Patrick who?’ Scott asked, not knowing what George was talking about.

‘The Patrick whom Stephen had told us about – you know the guy from the funeral parlour, he’s coming at the weekend,’ George explained.

‘But how... why... I don’t follow, why is he coming here?’ Scott said getting a little agitated by his partner’s lack of communication.

‘After Stephen told us about his encounter with Patrick in the funeral home, I thought it would be good to hear what Patrick might have to tell. So, I phone McKenna’s funeral home and asked to speak with him. I was told that he no longer worked there and I asked how I might contact him. The receptionist I spoke to was his aunt. She was reluctant to give me his phone number at first but when I said that I was calling on behalf of his friend Stephen, she relented.’

‘You said that!’ Scott exclaimed. ‘So what did you do then?’

‘I Phoned Patrick and told him that Stephen had been a recent guest here and that he had nominated Patrick as a friend to be entered into a draw for a free holiday and that he, Patrick was the winner.’

‘You devious...’

‘Now Scot, don’t be angry. He could be quite entertaining,’ George said in self defence.

‘Well he might be... bad enough we have to give free meals to hear sexy stories. If you go giving away free holidays here, we shall soon be out of business!’ Scott said angrily.

‘Ooo hooo! Who got out of bed the wrong side this morning?’ George replied sarcastically. ‘He’s coming and that’s that. He will only be here for two nights and if you are worried about the expense, I’ll put the money in the cash register from my savings account,’ George said in an effort to settle the matter without further argument.

‘On your head so be it, maybe he won’t want to spill his sexy secrets to complete strangers. Anyway, I can’t stand here arguing the toss with you, I’ve got marketing to do... I’ll see you later.’ With that Scott walked out to the SUV parked in front of the house and drove off to the local Walmart.

To be continued....
 
And, will they get Stephen back to the Inn for a weekend of reunions?
 
When you said Scott had marketing to do, I was thinking along the lines of advertising/promoting the Inn, and then I couldn't quite figure out why he was heading for Walmart! Perhaps 'recruiting' some locals? Buying supplies for signs, or something? :confused:

Then ... it Finally dawned on me you meant Shopping! English can be such a weird language! :lol: #-o

Let's not mention my "age problem", O.K.? :slap:

Looking forward to Patrick's weekend! (group)

Keep smilin'!! :kiss: (*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
Lordy, Auto. Tell me when and where and I'll be there myself. I want to hear what Patrick has been up to these past years. Of course if Steven comes as well I may have a fight on my hands. But it's only fair that Steven has first dibs seeing that he so obediently lay there in the coffin while Patrick had his way with him...lol Still it all will make a delightful weekend.......

Craiger
 
Kyanimal said:
Then ... it Finally dawned on me you meant Shopping! English can be such a weird language!

Scott often mangles his words - even speaks a language of his own at times but yes he was just going to the store for supplies. As for 'recruiting' he has a roving eye and would like to take advantage of his shopping trips to fetch home 'fresh meat' that is of a kind that is not available on the butchery counter but he knows that George would not approve of that;)
 
Chapter Ten continued...

It was Saturday morning and Scott was sat behind the reception desk when he was suddenly aware of someone standing looking down at him. He had not heard anyone arrive and was startled to see a slim guy dressed in a black suit over a black roll neck sweater. The blackness of his clothes served to emphasise his pale complexion and mop of pure white hair. Had his eyes been pink rather that the deepest blue, Scott would have thought the stranger was an albino.

‘Good morning, I am Patrick McKenna. I believe you are expecting me.’

Scott stood up and recovering from his surprise said, ‘Yes... Yes of course, you are most welcome.’

‘Am I right in thinking you are George?’ Patrick asked.

‘No, I am his partner... Scott. Maybe I should get George, it was he who spoke with you at the telephone.’ Scott left Patrick standing by the desk while he went off to find George. Fortunately, it took only a couple of minutes for George to appear and make Patrick welcome.

‘I am little mystified by this offer of a free weekend here,’ Patrick told George.

‘Oh no, we do this from time to time. Guests recommend their friends and we draw names out of a hat – you struck it lucky this time around,’ George explained, his fingers crossed behind his back as he was lying through his teeth. The odd looking young man before him was not quite what he had expected from Stephen’s description of the handsome funeral parlour employee.

‘I am surprised that Stephen should have known how to contact me, I haven’t heard from him in ages,’ Patrick said.

‘I traced you via your uncle’s business. I gather you do not work there anymore,’ said George.

‘No, I work as a laboratory technician at the city hospital. The work at the funeral parlour was interesting but I decided that working alongside the pathologist would be more to my liking, so I qualified and that is what I do now.’

George felt an involuntary shudder go down his spine at the thought of working in a morgue. ‘You were attracted by the cutting edge of work with corpses then?’ he said and immediately regretting his choice of words. Patrick did not seem to notice anything or if he did he did not react to what George had said. Instead, he replied saying, ‘Certain events occurred that enabled me to decide on a new career path. Maybe I can tell you about it later. Once Patrick had been settled in his room he passed the afternoon and early evening watching TV. He made his way down to the dining room where he shared a table with three other guests who were staying at the hotel. They had insisted that he join them rather than sit alone and Patrick welcomed the invitation. He learned that John and Ray were a couple, while Ray’s cousin Josh had recently suffered the loss of his partner had had travelled with them. Ray and Patrick were soon chatting and felt comfortable in each other’s company.

Dinner over, the guests made their way into the sitting room and the usual offer was made by Scott and George, a free meal in exchange for a story. The four guests looked at one another, each hoping that one of the others would take up the challenge first and much to George’s relief Patrick offered to tell a tale from his past. George looked over at Scott feeling that his suggestion that Patrick ‘win’ a free weekend break was going to be justified.

‘I worked for a time for my uncle who owned and ran a funeral home. Along with three other guys I was a bearer when necessary, carrying caskets into church as part of funeral services. In addition, I had the task of preparing the deceased for burial. The requirements varied. Some of the dead were merely washed, dressed in either r their own selected clothes or just a shroud and immediately sealed in a coffin. Others had more elaborate treatment, even to the extent of being embalmed. The work could be most unpleasant when dealing with the victims of road accidents or other trauma, it was heart breaking when children were involved and it could be curiously arousing when the deceased was an attractive person who appeared to have fallen asleep unscathed. My story concerns a young man who was brought to the funeral home late one night. The information we were given was that he was twenty three years of age and that he had been in a coma for five years following a skiing accident. He had been caught in an avalanche and though dead but was found some twenty four hours later unconscious but alive. He was taken to hospital where he was kept on life support for five years. His parents finally gave permission for the support to be switched off and so he was brought to the funeral home.

I washed his body, admiring his beauty he was god like as though carved in pure white marble. At one stage he seemed to sigh but air often escapes from the lungs of a corpse so I thought nothing of it. When I had finished, it was late so I decided against placing him in the cold storage but left the body covered with a sheet on the gurney in the preparation room. I went up to my quarters on the upper floor and after a light supper went to bed. I fell into a dreamless sleep almost immediately. The digital clock by my bed registered 1.00 am when I awoke and was aware of someone having climbed into bed alongside me. A hoarse voice said, ‘I am so cold, please hold me,’ and a body was pressed up against mine. I felt whoever it was shivering with cold and reached out to turn on the bedside light.

Imagine my surprise and horror when I saw that my bedfellow was none other than the guy I had left on the gurney.

‘Hold me, warm me,’ he pleaded.

‘You’re dead!’ I exclaimed.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Why am I here, where are my clothes, I am so cold!’

I told him how he came to be at the funeral home. ‘Everyone thought you would never come out of the coma, life support was switched off. The doctors pronounced you dead.’

‘I could hear people talking, I tried to move, I tried to open my eyes but there was no way I could make contact I had to just lie there and hope.’

I held him in my arms and slowly his body began to warm. As his blood began to circulate freely I felt his erection growing against my thigh. He apologised but I replied saying it was no problem, just nature taking its course. He hugged me close and I felt his lips on my neck, his hands started to stroke my body and one went up under the t-shirt I wore to bed. He rubbed my chest and his hand then went down under the waistband of my pyjama pants and caressed my cock and balls. I was more relaxed by this time having got over the shock of his arrival in my bed. Following his lead, I reached down and stroked his cock, the cock that I had so admired as it lay recumbent between his legs as I washed his body.

I did feel a little concern when his lips closed on my cock, thoughts of vampires crossed my mind. What if he was one and I was about to fall victim to his lust for blood. But I no need to have been afraid. He gave me a perfect blow-job and I duly returned the favor after he had swallowed my cum as it hit the back of his throat.

‘Five years spent listening to voices around me thinking about my lover who was buried in the snow with me. I heard them say he had died and that I was lucky to be alive. I thought I would never move or speak again but you have given me back my life,’ he told me. The loving he shared with me that night was a mark of his gratitude.

The next morning he phoned his parents and they came round to collect him. Maybe that was a miracle of sorts or just a medical mis-calculation but the experience of that night changed me, my hair became white as you see it now. I felt I could not go on working at the funeral home and chose a change in career that enabled me to work in a laboratory that dealt with the living and not only the dead.’
 
WOW! What an interesting 'twist'! I don't believe I've ever read anything quite like that before! :=D: ..|

Seems Patrick's story was definitely worth George's efforts! Would be interesting to hear about everyone's reactions! And, perhaps more stories from the other guests? Or, maybe there might be what will become a 'future' story made this weekend? (!w!) (group)

Keep smilin'!! :kiss: (*8*)
Chaz :luv:

(Great to read that You're mind is a 'tad' warped, Auto! \:/ :badgrin: )
 
WOW!
Chaz :luv:

(Great to read that You're mind is a 'tad' warped, Auto! \:/ :badgrin: )

Warped mind! Moi? I suppose you're right but I cut my teeth on ghost and horror stories and I delight in reading crime novels - mainly by American authors who are best at the genre in my opinion.

There will be some delay before the next episode as I am going off on a two week jaunt that could well inspire further warping of the mind;)
 
Have an AWESOME Time, Auto! (!w!)

We'll be anxiously awaiting your return! (group)

And, Yeah! ... no matter what ...

Keep smilin'!! :kiss: (*8*)
Chaz :luv:
 
That was definitely an interesting twist of fate.

Great storyline, Auto.

I can understand why his hair became white from the experience - it's surprising he didn't have a heart attack from the encounter.
 
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