(If you skipped on over the first two parts, you kind of missed the story. Oh, what the fuck. That's your problem.


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Boxcar Boys

Part Three


We made it to Reno, and found a pawnbroker who seemed a little less honest than he was supposed to be. You may say they're all a bit less honest than they're supposed to be, but I guess that's the business. I took the trouble to read the inscription inside the watch case, though, and told him my name was Elver Weathers and that it had been a present from my daddy, so we didn't do too bad selling it for eighty bucks. We split up the money around our clothes and our gear so if we got robbed they probably wouldn't get it all.


That was a good thing, because we gave up the first ten bucks to the cops at the California border, somewhere near Truckee, who was turning most of us migrants away. If they'd known we had so much money as we did, they'd have had all of it, and maybe killed us to make sure we wouldn't talk. If there is a cop who is not crooked, I ain't met him yet. I figure that includes Mr. J. Edgar Hoover.


Further on, I saw that hammer laying there on the ground. Was it not for a little rust, it would have been just perfect, and had I not stooped to pick it up, that rifle bullet would have drilled me right through the middle of my back. Hell, it cut a crease in my jacket. I yelled to the boys to hit the deck, and a couple more bullets came flying our way. I didn't know who wanted to kill us, but I knew I didn't want us killed, so I led the boys crawling along the ground to behind some big old pine trees, where we waited to see what might happen next.


What happened next was the shithead with the rifle came tippy-toe, looking all round, right past where we was hiding. I hit him with that hammer, and caved in the back of his head. I never knew why he was out to kill us, but I never felt too bad about killing him right back. Whatever the reasons, though, I knew we had to get the hell out of there. We was just bums, and a nicely attired gray haired guy with a rifle probably was somebody who mattered in the local scheme of things. It wouldn't help pleading self-defense. They'd just call it murder, even though he had the gun and I didn't, and I'd get the chair. We left the rifle behind, and I tossed the hammer way way off in the woods.


It was Billy saw the car, back up on the road, and we figured it must have belonged to the guy who'd been shooting at us, and whose head I'd smashed. I was scared to take it, but Wayne said it would be best to put distance between us and the stiff, and we could ditch the car some miles further on. So we kicked a bunch of pine needles over the old bastard wanted to kill us, and we gave the car a crank, and drove off down the road. Both boys wanted to try driving it, but I was the only one knew how to use the clutch, and there really was not time to stop and teach them.


It was two hours later, and I figure we made it maybe thirty-five, forty miles, when the gas run out. We pushed it a ways up a dirt path and behind some cabin been abandoned years before. I might have liked to stay the night in that cabin, spiders and all, but we didn't dare be anywheres near that car when daylight broke, so we went on.


..........


I woke up in that hollow filled with pine needles with Billy kind of nuzzling my neck. Wayne was wrapped in his own blanket maybe a foot away, still sleeping. It had been a long, long night. I kind of hugged Billy closer up against me, and kissed him.


"You need a shave," he told me, "but that won't stop me sucking your cock."


Me, though, I was not thinking about my cock right then. I was thinking about that crazy old asshole who got it into his head to kill me the night before, and wound up getting himself dead as a consequence. Why the fuck did he want to shoot me? Was it just because he could, and nobody would care because I was just another poor son-of-a-bitch hobo out looking for a job?


Well, maybe he wanted to steal my boys, but if he was willing to kill me to get them, I think they were damned lucky he didn't. There's some real crazy fuckers out there.


While I was thinking about that, Billy had scooched down and unbuttoned my pants. I was still soft when he took me in his mouth, but that didn't last long. Jesus, that boy knew just how to suck a cock, and I still can't figure how he managed to breathe when he had it that far down his throat. All thoughts of murdering and getting murdered slipped right out of my head.


Somehow he managed to get his own pants down without interrupting my blowjob, and sort of flipped around on me so my face was right up between his naked legs. I was hoping my face was not all that scratchy in there between those soft and creamy thighs. It would have been more than a shame to leave some kind of rash on that sweetness.


Well, there was no stubble on my tongue, anyway, so I reached it out and licked his little nutsack, then up that wonderful sweet pathway to his hole. Does that delicious strip of skin have a special name? It ought to, but if it does, I never found out. Billy really liked getting his asshole licked and probed a little, even if he had to put up with some stubbly scratching of his ass cheeks.


When I was almost ready to cum, I moved my mouth down to his stiff little peter, which was just such a nice fit in my mouth. He started thrashing around on me, totally enjoying his little boy dry cum, as I unloaded down his throat. I have to say, it drove those images of the gray haired guy's stove in skull right out of my head.


While I was catching my breath, I caught sight of Wayne, his head propped up on his forearm, looking at us.


"You guys done yet?" he asked.


..........


It was two days later we reached the migrant camp. There was tents and shacks and just tarps pitched off the ends of crappy old cars and trucks. There was men and women and children in the hundreds. Every morning, the foremen would pull into camp and pick out men to work the fields or the orchards. They'd get carried away in the backs of big old farm trucks, and maybe get back that night with just enough money to put some food in the mouths of their wives and kids.


We still had plenty of money, so I didn't go out for no stoop labor, but I tried to tell those agents how I could fix damned near any kind of farm machinery they had needed fixing. Nobody paid much attention until one of their trucks, all loaded up with Okies and such like, didn't want to start. Well, I got it started, and that got me a job of sorts. Mind you, they didn't have no reapers nor combines to fix, because mostly they grew asparagus and cauliflower and broccoli, and there was some strawberry fields not in season yet, but their trucks broke down often enough to be worth keeping me around. I didn't get paid much, but it was better than stoop labor.


I told the boss the boys was both my nephews and my apprentices, but he didn't much care one way nor the other. We got a shack to live in, a little bit of money when something needed fixing, and all the broccoli and cauliflower we could eat. We farted plenty, I can tell you.


Well now, Billy was kind of getting on me about fucking him. I guess Wayne was not quite long enough to reach his sweet spot all the way, and I have to tell you Wayne was not happy about being told he was a little too short. Anyway, Wayne had got him pretty well stretched according to his dick size, and Billy was ready for somebody bigger. And that meant me.


So we was laying around the shack one afternoon after I'd cleaned up the points on one of those trucks so it started a lot easier, and Wayne said, "Billy wants you to fuck him. Now."


I looked at Billy, and he kind of grinned at me. Yes, he was all ready -- but was I? You know, shoving my dick up Wayne was no big deal, and he always loved it -- but Billy was such a little guy. What would I do, I wondered, if his asshole started bleeding or something awful like that?


"For shit's sake," Wayne told me, "I already got three fingers up there plenty of times. And your dick just ain't that big. Give him his fuck, for Christ's sake! Hell, I probably could fit up there alongside you."


Well, maybe I didn't describe Billy too well, but I think I told you he looked about ten, even if he lied and said he was older. I mean, the only hair you could find on his body was on his head. Okay, that was true of Wayne too, but he was considerable bigger and taller. Both boys had mops of brown hair in need of cutting, but Billy's had a little red to it, and he had such beautiful blue-green eyes.


While Wayne's ass was two full handfuls, I could grab Billy's in one, and his little boner was no bigger than my little finger. I think you can figure out why I was hesitant to stick my dick up inside him.


"Oh, you pussy," Wayne told me, "least you can do is lay on your back and let him sit down on you. If it hurts him, I reckon he'll get off."


That sounded okay to me, except I wasn't hard. Billy took care of that problem with his mouth while Wayne tongued Billy's ass to get it all slick and ready. Then Billy scooted up, put my hard 'un against his pucker, and eased himself down. Nothing terrible happened. Truth be told, it felt real nice.


As you may imagine, he was tighter than Wayne, especially as mine was the only full size one he'd had up there. Just the same, he didn't have no trouble sitting all the way down, until I was buried in him right down to my bush, and I think if I was an inch or so longer he could have took that too.


"Well," said Wayne, "don't just let him sit there. Fuck him."


I started a little rocking motion with my hips, sliding in and out of him just a tad, and hanging onto his little legs with my hands. He started getting this dreamy expression on his face. I rocked a little harder, going in and out maybe an inch, inch and a half. "Oh!" he said. "Oh, Harlan, you got it!"


I guess he meant his sweet spot, because he started riding me fast and furious, and making a lot more noise than I would have liked. I guess Wayne thought the same, because he shut Billy up by sticking a cock in his mouth. Me, I never had to work less hard for a cum, because Billy was doing all the work, and all I had to do was lay there, looking up at Wayne's sweet round ass and his little nutsack all sucked up against his body, and his dick ramming in and out of Billy's mouth while Billy just rode me hard as he could.


So that day I found out Billy was not too small. Also, I figured he liked it even better than Wayne did.


(More to come from heedon@tormail.org )