(We are getting near the end here, because guys like you and me are always getting near the end. I don't suppose I have to tell you that the ends we get near to are very rarely the sweet, dimpled ends we want to get near, but life never is easy for us.

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Boxcar Boys

Part Four

Mr. Deller decided he needed that oil change on his nice new Packard, so they called me up from the shack to do it. I was pleased for the extra money, because oil changes is easy.

Anyway, it was Mr. Deller his own self who handed me the newspaper, because he wanted me to put it down so there wouldn't be no oil stains on his fancy driveway. That's when I found out whose head I'd stove in, so far as I could tell. They had not found the body, but they'd found the car. Yes, he was some kind of big shot, name of Howard Cater. It seemed pretty odd to me, because some years earlier, when I was not much more than a kid myself, I'd done some nasties with a boy name of Howard Carter. Not the same name, or the same guy by any means, but still a pretty strange coincidence.

They had fingerprints, according to the paper, and I guessed those was mine and the boys'. Well, I didn't have no prints on file, so I wasn't too worried about that. Anyway, all they had was the car, and that was thirty, forty miles from where we left the stiff.

Like I figured, Howard Cater was someone kind of important, so people kind of noticed when he wasn't there no more. I did not know what the cops was thinking, of course, although I knew cops was not too good when it come to thinking. Still, if they found one set of man prints and two sets of boy prints, it was possible I could get in trouble. Maybe, I thought, I'd better ditch the boys. Could they tell the difference between boy prints and woman prints? I didn't know.

I didn't want to ditch the boys. Shit, they'd been doing me so good, and I guessed I just was inclined to let my dick do the thinking. How the hell was they gonna find us, anyway? We was just a few sad suckers in a sea of other sad suckers out on the road, just trying to get by.

I wondered what had become of Howard Carter, who would have been thirty or so by then, but that's how it is if you are somebody who likes boys. They just keep growing up on you. It is kind of like a curse. No, it is exactly like a curse. It is a curse.

So it was later that night, and I was feeling bad for myself, and my dick was way up in Wayne to make me feel better, when there came the knocking at the door. It was Wayne yelled out, "Jesus, who the fuck is it middle of the night?"

"I'm sorry," this little voice said, "but it is just so unnatural cold tonight. I gotta go someplace. Please?"

Like you might figure, my dick went soft and fell out of Wayne, but that little voice kind of got my attention. Okay, two young boys should have been enough for me, but I always been a greedy bastard, and three seemed like it might be at least half again better. It was a real cute voice.

It was Billy got his ass off the pallet and out from under the blankets and went to the door and opened it a crack to look out. "Oh, my god," he said. "Randall?"

There was a real bright moon that night, so I guess they could see each other pretty good, and the voice outside said, "Billy! Oh, hell, Billy!"

..........

Life really is full of surprises, so I guess I was not quite so surprised as I should have been. Billy and Randall was not exactly brothers, but Billy's mama once been with Randall's daddy. It wasn't long, but the boys got to be friends when they was little, so we took in Randall. He looked to be about Billy's age, which is to say a bit younger than Wayne, but who the hell knows? None of them boys knowed their birthdays, no more than I did mine. We didn't have no family Bible to write birthdays in.

Randall was shivering from the unnatural cold outside so, naturally, Billy and Wayne stripped all his clothes off. Okay, they put him under our blankets and cuddled around him to get him warmed up, but I have to tell you I was feeling kind of left out. I got in behind Wayne and wrapped my arms around all of them, but nobody seemed to notice.

Randall was a little redhead boy with very white skin, but none of them nasty freckles. He was not near as pretty as Billy, nor even Wayne, but I figured he was cute enough, if I ever got to lay a hand on him. Billy and Wayne kind of laid claim, though, and left me out. Well, I'd been drinking some that night, so pretty soon I fell asleep.

So I was kind of surprised when I awoke, somewhere about dawn, and there was this boy body draped over me. It wasn't Wayne, because it was too little, so I figured it was Billy, but it wasn't Billy because it felt too soft to be Billy. Billy actually was kind of a muscular little cocksucker, with a pretty hard ass for a boy. I opened my eyes a little and saw that fuzzy red hair, and felt that soft white skin under my hands. Yes, it was Randall. But why?

I thought about that as I nuzzled his soft, round cheek and ran my hands over his other soft, round cheeks. I wished I'd shaved the day before, because I was thinking I was just too stubbly for all that softness. And then I was wondering how he wound up laying on top of me, when I'd been off at the end of the pile when I'd fell asleep.

And then I figured Billy wanted Randall for a keeper, and Wayne thought so too, so they parked him on me after I fell drunken unconscious. Those boys had got to know me real well. Better than I knew Randall, and that was for sure. How much could I try without creeping him out?

Well, I figured if I didn't try, I'd never find out, so I wet my poking finger in my mouth and poked it at his little pink pucker. No, I didn't stick it in, I just kind of massaged it. I meant to go real slow. Randall kind of half opened his eyes, gave me a little grin, and stuck his tongue in my mouth. I was thinking maybe I didn't have to go that slow.

..........

Well, like you know, it was hard times, and boys out on their own just did what they had to do. Wayne's daddy had brought Wayne along when he went with the bonus marchers, being as his mama had to go to the lunatic asylum, and Wayne's daddy was one of them unfortunates got poked with some damned cavalryman's sword. He died of infection a couple of weeks later, and Wayne was on his own until some "nice" man picked him off the streets and taught him how to take a dick up his ass. Once he got a little older than that man preferred, he got thrown out.

I am not clear on this, but I think it may have been Randall's daddy taught Billy to take a cock down his throat, because Randall could do it just as good. Randall's daddy was together with Billy's mama less than a year when she stuck him with a knife and chased him out of the shanty in that Hoovertown. After that, Billy's mama took to drink, and he didn't stick around because she beat on him too much.

I don't know how Randall wound up on his own because he never talked that much while he was there, and then suddenly he was gone again. Maybe it was my fault. Some boys just don't like taking it up the ass and down the throat, even if they're real good at it.

..........

So there I was that morning, with Randall's tongue in my mouth, and my wet finger pushing up against his little hole, and I got the idea it would be okay to push it in. It went in real easy, and I didn't even need no grease when I pushed my dick up inside him just a minute later. Yes, it took more than a few strokes before his natural ass grease got me slick enough to give him a proper fuck, but he never whimpered, not even once.

I had flipped him on his back on top of me, and his legs was bent and up in the air, and his soft and fuzzy red hair was rubbing against my face, and he just smelled so good. I was fucking him deep and smooth, letting my morning hard 'un change from piss to cum, and I was up there maybe three four minutes. When I reached down for his little peter, though, it was all soft. Like I said, some boys just don't like it all that much.

Truth be told, the only times I saw Randall hard was when Billy was sucking him off. I guess he must of loved Billy. That next week, Randall and Billy was like a championship cocksucking team, both of them kneeling above me while I lay back on the pallet, and going back and forth, one taking my dick deep down his throat while the other licked my balls. Yes they was a real good team -- but while Billy's little peg was stiff enough to hang your hat on, Randall's just hanged there. Even when I sucked him back.

Well, like I think I said, I enjoy a little softy sometimes -- but there was something missing there.

..........

I guess it was maybe four days later I woke up with Wayne hugging me and crying into my neck. Randall was gone, and Billy was gone with him. I comforted Wayne as best I could, but it didn't help much. I guess Billy was not only his best friend, but his first true love. And he'd been jilted for a boy not even all that cute.

We took a beat up Model T I'd been working on for a "test drive" into town, where I figured to buy Wayne some ice cream or candy or something to make him feel better. I think the ice cream might of helped, because he stopped sniffling while he ate it. They had electric at the soda fountain, and a radio, and I heard they'd arrested some poor sucker for the murder of Mr. Howard Cater, respected and beloved businessman of Truckee, California. The unlucky bastard made the mistake of being in the neighborhood when they finally found the stiff under those pine needles, and I guess the fact that it was some months later, and his prints didn't match the ones from the car, and he was found near the stiff and not the car -- well, none of that mattered.

He was just some sorry hobo passing through, and the cops needed to arrest somebody. I never heard, but I'd be willing to bet they fried him.

..........

Wayne stayed on with me. Maybe it was because he loved me, and maybe it was because I kind of had a job. I guess I kind of loved him -- or maybe I never loved nobody, I don't know. Over the next year, his dick got pretty big and he grew a bush over it, so I stopped sucking him off. I don't much like big hairy dicks.

I kept on fucking him, though, because he didn't have no ass hair yet. Well, that come along too, in time. And then, one day, he told me he was about to join up in the Navy. Me, I figured the Navy was the best branch of the service for a horny young homo, and Wayne was a horny young homo if there ever was one.

Like I said, boys just don't last for long. Turn your head and they's all grown up.

Wayne died on December 7, 1941.

(Yes, that was yet another bummer ending from heedon@tormail.org )