Date: Fri, 20 Apr 2001 17:24:36 From: Ganymede Subject: Sixty-Nine Chapter 3 'Sixty-Nine' by Ganymede WARNING: This story contains a graphic description of sexual acts between a man and a MINOR boy. I do not condone child abuse, how- ever boy-love as described in this story is an entirely different matter. If the subject of man/boy sex offends you, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such material, do not read further! You have been warned! Read at your own risk! Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely accidental. The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment. Feel free to post it to appropriate newsgroups or send it to your friends. The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. It cannot be placed in archives that require payment for access, or printed and distributed in any form that requires payment. THE NIFTY ARCHIVE: The Nifty Archive needs your support. If you enjoy reading this story, please remember that it is available only because of the Nifty Archive. Instructions are provided on the Nifty home page for how to provide support. FINAL WARNING: If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't your thing, then exit now and save yourself from a life of sin! 'Sixty Nine' by Ganymede Chapter 2. June 27th 1999 "Why cain't I get in the shower with you?" "Um, I don't think so," I muttered. "Ah don't reckon it's a good idea, Ace." "It's not like I'm a girl or somethin'." Another hot flush, hotter than before. It was impossible to believe that he really said it. Not like that. Not pleading. He really wanted to get into the shower with me. Again, I tried to control the rush of emotions, the burgeoning urge that was so insistent that I wanted to drag him into the shower with me and rape him right there and then. I closed my eyes and tried to count slowly to ten. It usually worked when I was stressed. Of course, being stressed and driving a race car at over 180 m.p.h. was a lot different to standing in a shower with only a plastic curtain separating you from a 'drop-dead gorgeous' boy who wanted to get in the shower with you for God only knew what reason. "Aw fuck!" I gave up. I dragged open the shower curtain before I reached 'five'. He had started to leave. He was at the door, but he turned around, looking straight at me with unwavering eyes. He was looking right at Terry Atkins Junior as if he had never seen a man's cock before. His eyes were wide, boggling wide. He didn't say anything. He just stared. "Well, get yer clothes off, Ace. You look like ya need a shower near as bad as me." Ty grinned happily. "Only you stink worse than me." He started to undress, still keeping both of his beautiful blue eyes on me, on the one part of my body that he seemed to find more interesting than any other. I was staring right back at him, watching his deft little fingers unfastening the metal button of his cut-off shorts. He pulled down his zipper, easily getting past his cute little bulge. He stopped then and dragged up his grimy tee shirt. I could not take my eyes away, following the sensuous curve of his bronzed muscled belly, a ribbed chest that seemed far too narrow to contain his vital organs, his graceful thin arms as they reached above his head. I turned away then, guiltily. I was getting an erection. I finished soaping up while I stared at the cream-colored fiberglass wall behind the bath. I heard the shower curtain being opened, felt the plastic pulled against my butt. I started to shampoo my hair because it gave me an excuse to close my eyes when he stepped over the side of the bath tub. "Hey, gimme some of that water back here." "I told ya to wait a coupla minutes," I laughed. I stepped back away from the shower head so that he was sprayed for a few seconds. "There! git yerself soaped up and I'll give ya some more." "Fuck!" Ty shrieked. "Gimme some more water. I'm freezin'" "Nope! I gotta wash my hair," I chortled. "Come on! Move over!" Ty shoved at my back, trying to get me away from the shower again. It was like a mouse trying to move an elephant. He laughed and moved away again. I started rinsing my hair, no longer able to stop myself from peeking at him. It was like looking at a boy-god, you know what I mean? He was even thinner without his clothes on. Long brown legs, Florida-suntanned all the way from his feet to the last few inches of his slender thighs. He had small feet and little knobby knees. There was a pale band at his middle where the sun had never been seen. His buttocks were nearly white. From a few inches below his 'outie' belly button on up, his skin was soapy but under the white foam, he was golden brown. I kept my head under the water, rinsing off the shampoo. My eyes were half-closed, but I was still looking. It was impossible not to look. Even watching his hands moving up and down his body, sliding the soap into his little armpits, running it up and down his flat bronzed tummy and over his ribs, sent a thrill through me that was every bit as exciting as starting a race from the front of the grid. "Yer starin' at me," Ty said gleefully. "Am not!" "Yeah ya're." He smirked. "Look all ya want, Terry. I don't care." He put his hands on his hips and posed, swivelling his hips like a boy doing a crude imitation of a fashion model. I had a sudden premonition of him, doing exactly the same thing but pretending to be a hooker. He had long fingers, fingers with small gray splotches where de-greaser had not cleaned the skin, thin fingers with narrow nails, nails that had black grime underneath and up the sides, with cracked and flaked edges. His hands were not afraid of working with machinery. He watched me watching him, slowly, dreamily rotating his compact pelvis just like one of pit babes. They hung around the motels too, flaunting themselves in their tight, bright bikinis. Then, he smirked. His eyes followed my eyes and his hands moved, facing inward, the tips of his fingers pointing directly at his penis. I panicked again. I shook the water from my head, opened the curtain, and stepped out into the very cramped space between the bath and the toilet. Behind me, I could hear him giggling. All I could think of was the last thing I had seen. He was getting an erection, giving himself one deliberately, without even touching himself, just by thinking about it. It was only half erect when I had panicked, but already the tiny blue tip was lifting upward and outward, pointing towards me. I took one of the two remaining dry towels and began to dry myself off. My mind was spinning out of control, whirling on thoughts that should not have been there, running at full speed that could only bring disaster. He was ten years old! Talk about jail bait! I could get twenty years for just touching him! Then, the shower curtain was flung back and there he was in all his naked beauty, so obviously a boy. He smiled at me, shyly, holding out his hand for a towel, or did he want a hand getting out of the bath? I took the safe course and tossed him the last towel. From the look on his face a towel probably wasn't what he wanted. I backed away to make room for him to get out of the bath. Instead, he chose to stay there, vigorously rubbing the towel over his body until he was mostly dry. He tossed the towel at me when I bent down to put on my boxers. The bunched up towel hit my shoulder with a surprising amount of force. I stood up, growling threateningly. Ty saw my narrowed eyes, instantly got the message, clamped both hands protectively over his crotch, although one hand would have been more enough. He backed up behind the shower curtain so I couldn't see him. I took one corner of the now-damp towel and spun the rest around to make a poor but adequate imitation of a whip. I yanked back the shower curtain and stepped back, flipping the end of the towel back and forth. Ty shrieked and backed up even further until his rear was against the fiberglass wall. "Now," I said gleefully. "What were ya sayin' about me starin'?" "Y'were," Ty giggled. "You were checkin' my dick out like some perv." "And you were showin' it off," I laughed. "Tha question is, do I whip ya now or later." "Later!" Ty replied. "'cause ya might change yer mind by then," he chortled. he held his hand out. "Gimme ma clothes." "Say what?" "I ain't gettin' out with you pervin' at me. It ain't safe," he laughed. "Gimme 'em." "You ain't said please," I reminded him. "Please. P-l-e-a-s-e," he spelled it out just in case I missed it the first time. "He kin spell too," I chuckled. "Now try pretty please," I suggested. I just wanted to hear his voice. It was somewhere between soprano and treble, like the Moffat kids before they hit puberty. "Okay. Pretty please," Ty snickered. He beckoned, snapping with his fingers, pretending to be impatient. "Ma clothes?" "Ah don't know why yer 'fraid of me seein' yer boy-dick, Ace," I smirked. "It ain't nuthin' much. Sure ain't worth hidin'." "Neither's yours," Ty came back. "Yer big ole hairy thing prolly never even seen a pussy let 'lone fucked one." He laughed when he said it, such a free-willed shameless laugh. Yet, his eyes were on it the whole time, never once looking away for more than a second. The urge returned, stronger than before. An insistent, demanding, unrelenting need. There was only one thing I could do short of picking him up and carrying him into the bedroom. I squatted down and began to pick up his clothes. I caught a whiff of his underpants lying on top of his shorts. It was not a fresh clean smell. It was a boy's smell, sour, sweaty, exciting. The elastic had pulled away from the cloth for several inches. There were holes in both the front and the back, including a large one on the part that would have covered his right cheek. The front was yellowed. The back was streaked with brown. Just the idea of him having to put them on again, angered me. He deserved better. I stood up again, leaving his underpants on the vinyl-covered floor. "Hey! ma clothes?" "Yer clothes stink worse than the sweat seat, Ace." I turned around, picked up my tee-shirt and tossed it to him. "It won't fit ya too good, but 'least it's clean." Ty held it to his chest, considering. For a moment his teeth chewed on his bottom lip. It was the first time I had seen him nervous. He blinked quickly and then looked away for a moment or two. "Whatcha gonna wear yerself, Terry?" "Don't worry 'bout me, Ace. I ain't goin' naked. I'll be wearin' boxers," I chuckled, "So ya cain't perv on me." "Fer a grown up yer so fuckin' weird," Ty laughed. "Whydaya think I'd even wanna look at yours fer?" I grinned at him and didn't answer. I think we both knew the answer so I left it alone. I stepped into my boxers and pulled them up. At the same time, Ty slid into my tee-shirt. He looked like he was wearing a sheet. It came down well past his elbows, and covered his knees. On his slender body, there was a little but very prominent bump right over his crotch and a fold that continued on down. He looked down, then back at me. "Thanks," he said absently. "It's cool." "No problem." I heard the plaintive sound in the boy's soft voice, like a knife right into my heart. I suspected he didn't say 'thank you' very often because he had very little to be thankful for. he followed me out of the bathroom, leaving his clothes on the floor next to mine. The television was turned on and showing one of those mindless fishing shows where the camera follows a fishing line being pulled through the water and the fishermen make inane comments about lures and rods and whatever else they can manage to think of. There was only one thing more boring than fishing that was watching a television program about fishing. Ty walked over and plunked himself down on the bed with his head against the pillow, the pillow that had been mine until he decided otherwise. He crossed his feet at the ankles, put one of his arms behind his head and used the other to straighten out the T-shirt so that it followed the contour of his body perfectly. It was like looking at a white-marble boy, with everything revealed. It was not my imagination that I saw the tiny points of his towel-abraded nipples, the ridge of his belly button, the ripples of his ribs and muscles. The detail was less visible at his crotch, although my eyes lingered as I tried to see through the white cotton of the tee-shirt. There was a lump there, a startlingly prominent lump considering the relatively small size of what I now knew to be hidden underneath. He was not a well-endowed boy, but he was bigger than some of the boys whose photographs I had discovered on an Internet site. He was certainly as photogenic as any of those boys. "You like fishin'?" I asked after a very boring minute has passed. "Never bin, but it looks like fun." Ty glanced at me. He appeared reassured, comfortably at ease when most boys would be skittish. He turned back to the television. "You can change it ya want, Terry," he offered. "'s okay. Don't really bother me," I answered. It was impossible to take my eyes away from him. I tried again and again, but always I was drawn back. I felt like a hungry man, feasting my eyes on a cornucopia of delicacies. Each taste slightly different, but contributing inexorably to gluttony. There was something magnetic about him, a sense that if I looked at him long enough and hard enough, I would never forget him when he was gone. I had to take him home. I sighed. "Where ya live, Ace?" I asked after a while. Ty looked up again. "A ways." Where I came from, 'a ways' usually meant somewhere between ten and twenty miles. Any further than twenty miles, it was 'a fer ways'. "How did ya git to the track?" "Walked some." "And?" I prompted. "I hitched some of tha way. He let me out a coupla miles from here." "That's dangerous," I said instantly. He shrugged. "I ain't worried. I kin take care of myself when I gotta." "Yeah, I guess you can," I mused. Sooner or later I had to take him home. If I did the right thing I'd take him to Walmart and buy him some new underwear. He needed someone to take care of him. It was obvious that he wasn't getting the attention he needed. He was sitting in a motel room with a stranger and there was a strong undercurrent that was dragging us both in the same direction. It wasn't right. "Terry?" I looked up. "Yeah?" "Nuthin'! I was just seein' if you was 'wake." I laughed. "Yeah, but I'm really droopin'. Goin' flat out for four hundred miles is a real killer." "Where ya from, Terry?" "Me? Asheville. Ya know where that is, Ace?" "Yeah. North Car'lina." "Yeah, that's it." Ty went back to watching the fishing program and I went back to watching Ty. He knew I was watching him because every minute of so he smiled at me, not more than a hint of a smile but enough to show he was aware of what I was doing. Other than his occasional smiles he gave no other sign that he was aware of my presence. He appeared to be quite content to be left alone. On the other hand, I needed to talk. To pass the time, I picked up the food-stained guide to the local 'restaurants'. They were all fast food places with a block or two. Undoubtedly, the list was very different to the lists provided at the national franchise motels on the other side of the track. "You like fried chicken, Ace?" I asked absently, thinking of what Bobbie was supposed to be bringing back for dinner. "Yeah. 's okay. Yer still callin' me Ace," Ty grinned. I nodded and smiled back at him. "Yeah. Only 'cause of that there three inches ya got." "I told ya it's bigger," Ty said boldly. "Not from what I seen in the shower." He giggled. "You ain't seen it hard,.... yet." He looked at me and smirked. I raised my eyebrow, showing some interest but nothing like what I was feeling inside. It felt like someone had just driven right into my butt and given me one hell of a shove. He lay there thinking, waiting, no longer smiling but his blue eyes were looking fixedly at me. I knew he was thinking the same thing that I was. I could hear the police sirens in the distance. "So?" I suggested. I left it at that. I was not going to beg to see his dick. He would show me in his own good time. That was why he was there, lying on his back on a stranger's bed in a run-down motel room. I felt sad for him, but not that sad that I would not take advantage of anything he wanted to give me. We stared at each other for a long while. "You wanna see it?" His voice was soft, nervous, barely holding back his excitement. He was too young to be doing what he was doing. By his own admission, he was ten years old. I wondered whether he was doing it for the money. I would pay him the sixty bucks and change in my wallet if that was what he wanted. Yet, somehow, I knew he wouldn't ask for money. Most of the women who paraded around the pits did it to get laid by one of the drivers. Most of them settled for pit-crew when they didn't score for the night. He wasn't like that, either. "Yeah," I said quietly. He thought about that for a while, shifting his eyes back and forth from the television to me. The monotonous dialog on the fishing program finally gave out to make way for the sponsor's commercials. His attention shifted. Casually, he lifted up the front of the tee shirt. I swallowed, gazing directly at his hairless genitals. His dick, not even as big as half my thumb, was lying on his right thigh, getting out of the way for the small pink hemisphere of his ball-sac. I was staring at a perfect little boy-hood. "That sure ain't three inches," I teased. "It ain't hard yet," Ty rebuked. "I gotta blue tip, see." He pointed at the end of his penis. It was blue, or rather bluish, like a forged rod that had been heated to too high a temperature. "Yeah, you do," I answered. "Ya reckon it's weird?" Ty asked uncertainly. "Na! It's cute." He smiled shyly. "I got this friend, ya know. He says I'm weird." "You might be, but yer dick sure ain't!" Ty laughed. "'sposed to be pink." "Maybe, but my favorite color is blue. Blue is fer boys ya know." Ty lifted his head up and studied me for a while, visibly thoughtful. I had an image of thoughts going through his mind as he tried to figure out what he was going to do next. His fingers edged downward, coming closer and closer to his penis until he touched it. I licked my lips and he smiled slightly. "Three inches, Ace," I teased. "Whatcha gonna call me if it's four?" Ty smirked. "Nuthin!" I laughed. "'cause yer dick ain't close to three, not even when it's rock-hard." "What if it's bigger 'n three?" "Then I'll buy ya dinner, Ace," I replied, teasing him one more time Ty smirked, stroking a single finger along the squat soft shaft. He licked his lips. This time, I smiled. I was entranced as he caressed his penis. The television droned in the background, but at that moment we could have been sitting on the starting line with seconds to go and it would not have made any difference. Two fingers came into play, one on either side, moving very slowly, very deliberately up and down. Already, it was longer, but not by much. We both witnessed the miracle of erection, a little piece at a time. We kept looking at each other, sharing the experience whenever our eyes locked, which seemed to happen with increasing frequency. And then it was fully extended, stretched out and standing up an inch from his flat belly like a finger pointing towards his belly button. "Okay," Ty said huskily. "That's it." "That's all of it, Ace," I teased. "No free dinner, that's fer sure." He poked his tongue out at me and made a rude sound that sounded like a fart. "You got a ruler or somethin'?" he demanded. He scratched his fingertips over the now-much-darker tip. The blue hue was even more apparent when the glans was swollen and hard. It was very close to being purple. Fully erect, his circumcision mark was actually closer to the base than the head. The brown ring, which for years I had associated with excessive masturbation, was also quite noticeable. "Nope, 'fraid not." I walked over to my suitcase and opened the lid. Somewhere inside there was a small tape-measure that was attached to the keys to the workshop. After a few seconds I found it and I went over to where Ty was lying. I held it out. "Here. Go 'head, Ace," I chuckled. Ty giggled and sat up. He took the tiny tape measure from me. He pulled out the first six inches, twice what he needed, and pushed in the button to keep it extended. He held it against what would normally be the underside of his penis, with the metal bracket generously placed where it was attached to his scrotum. "Four inches see," he proclaimed boldly. "For inches, bullshit!" I chortled. "You got it halfway down your ball-sac and then some." "So?" "So yer cheatin'," I replied. "You gotta measure the other side with the tape just touching the skin." "Who says?" Ty shot back. "It there like some standard or somethin' for measurin' dicks?" "Prob-ab-ly," I answered. "There's a fuckin' standard for nearly everythin' else in this world. What's it measure my way?" He lifted his penis up and put the tape where I had suggested. The blue-tinted tip was still a quarter of an inch shy of three inches. I felt vindicated. He smirked. "Four inches!" he claimed again. "See, I fuckin' told ya." "Sure, and when ya get yer first pussy, stick yer balls in there too." Ty laughed. "You better answer tha door," he said as someone rapped hard. I hurried back to suitcase, pulled out a shirt, hastily put it on as I strode to the door. I didn't bother use the peep-hole to check who was outside. I knew that rap anywhere. I opened the door to Bobbie. "Sorry," Bobbie said apologetically. "Thought you'd be dressed by now." I shrugged, pulling the shirt together in front of me. "'s okay. I took a long shower," I added. His expression said 'liar' and he tried to look beyond me into the room. He saw Ty lying back on the bed. However, he shrugged as if it wasn't important. He handed me a large white and red cardboard tub that screamed fried chicken and a six-pack of Budwieser Light Beer. "Whats left 's all yours," he said. "We ate already, Terry. I guess there's seven or eight pieces left. " "Okay." I stepped back from blocking the doorway, reached behind me and placed the chicken and beer on the table next to the door. Just the smell was enough to make my stomach realize it was running on empty. It was never a good idea to eat before a race, just in case there was an accident and you needed surgery. Now, I was famished. Bobbie moved to block the doorway with his bulk. "Hiya Ty," he boomed. "Hi Bobbie," Ty answered as if it was perfectly natural for him to be lying on my bed dressed in my tee-shirt. He sounded right at home. Bobbie smiled at me. It was a knowing smile, a smile that said a lot, and left a lot unsaid. His eyes met mine. Neither of us said a word, a friendly 'Mexican' standoff. "We got a plan worked out," Bobbie began. "Okay?" "We reckon the best plan's to take the next two weeks off from racin'. Trevor and me head back up to Asheville first thing tomorrow and start buildin' us coupla new short block engines. First class all the way. It oughta take the best part of ten days." "What about Pete?" I asked curiously. Pete had been with the team since the season began, I didn't like him very much but I was starting to get used to having him around. He was fast at changing tires. Bobbie shrugged dismissively. "He wants to be paid up, Terry. He's cuttin' loose. I figure we're better off without him. All he's interested in is gettin' his tool up the babes." "Okay. 's good a reason as any. How much you reckon for the blocks?" "Twenty, twenty-five a piece, to start. I'll do the heads 'n all myself. We oughta have enough to do two engines, git some spares, and put tires on the truck. And yer 'Bird too," he added with a laugh. "We'll still be running on fumes for the rest of tha season, but we gotta take tha chance." I nodded, in complete agreement with his plan on how to spend a hundred thousand dollars. It was all about taking risks. "You oughta take some time off, Terry," Bobbie suggested. "Ain't no need fer ya to be rushin' up to Asheville with us." He looked over my shoulder again directly at Ty. "Didn't know ya liked trollin'," he smirked. "Looks like ya hooked somethin'." "Huh?" I turned around, glimpsing the television. The fisherman was reeling in a large struggling bass, or something. Ty had moved into a sitting position, pulling his skinny brown legs up so that his feet were against his but. Sitting like that, the tee-shirt draped over his legs, I could see the undersides of his thighs and the twin pale hemispheres of his buttocks. It was obvious that he had nothing on under the tee-shirt. Then, I realized that if I could see, Bobbie could also see the pink bubble of Ty's small rounded ball-sac. It was squeezed down between his thighs and it looked like it was ready to pop. I stepped to the side to block Bobbie's otherwise unimpeded view. "There's plenty of chicken fer both of ya," Bobbie chuckled. "You want me to pick up some cokes for yer fan." "Nope. I'll git him some from the machine down tha hall," I answered. "I lost a bet so I guess I owe him some dinner 'fore I take him home." "Well, there ain't nuthin' like chicken. 'specially white meat, though I'm partial to thighs myself," Bobbie smirked. "Just a matter of taste, I reckon." My ears burned. I swallowed. I wanted Bobbie gone. I could feel my heart pounding hard and fast. "Take some time off, Terry," Bobbie advised. "Ya don't git to play much during tha season. Ya deserve a break. You oughta spend some time 'round here fer a while." "Maybe," I ventured. I glanced over my shoulder at Ty. He was appeared to be busy watching television. "He'd sure like it," Bobbie added under his breath. "Huh?" I turned back again and caught the last of Bobbie's smile. "Whatcha said earlier, Bobbie, 'bout him? 'bout track rats running hot and cold?" "Some do," Bobbie acknowledged. He gestured with a slight move of his head. "That one's hotter n' hell, if ya ask me. I'd sure be careful, if I was you." "Meaning what?" I asked awkwardly. Bobbie shrugged nonchalantly. "Meaning nuthin', not unless yer interested in boys." I felt my face become hotter instantly. "Uh,... I,... I'm takin' him home as soon as he's fed," I muttered. "Whatcha do with him is between him and you, Terry. I ain't tellin'. I got my own problems. There's some rubbers in tha lid of my suitcase." "What?" I said agitatedly. "That one's been around the track a few times, I reckon," Bobbie said quietly. "Christ, he's only ten," I retorted. I lowered my voice. "For God's sake, Bobbie, whatdya take me fer. I ain't some pervert." "It ain't none of my business, Terry, but I seen how he looks at ya. And how you look at him." My neck was getting redder and redder. I shifted uncomfortably. I glanced over my shoulder. I don't think he heard what we were saying, but maybe he was just pretending. I shook my head, trying to show it was not true. Yet it was true. Bobbie stepped back through the door and I closed the door behind him before I realized that all I had in my wallet was notes. Without change I had nothing to use to buy something for the boy to drink. If Ty didn't have any change, I could easily go next door and get some from Bobbie. With that in mind, I carried the half-empty tub of chicken and the six-pack of beer across to the bed. I placed it midway between where Ty was sitting and were I was planning to be, what I hoped was a safe distance away. Ty leaned over and pulled the lid from the tub. "You like breasts or thighs, Terry?" he asked. "Don't matter so long as it's chicken," I answered. I popped the top on a Budwieser. "Hey, you got any change, Ace?" "What's with tha 'Ace'?" Ty rebuked playfully. "Ah thought we done settled that question already." "Yeah, when I see ya git both yer balls up a pussy, ya got four inches," I laughed. He picked out a chicken leg and held it up by the joint-knob, wavering it in front of me without saying anything. He was implying that his penis was as big, but we both knew otherwise. He would have been better off holding up a chicken wing. "Whydya need change?" Ty asked. He bit into the chicken and tore off a long strip with his teeth. He licked his lips, lapping up the grease and crumbs. Even eating, he was sexy. Everything about him screamed 'sex' to me. His tongue was pinker than pink. "'cause. Ya need somethin' ta drink." "I'm okay with Bud." "Tha hell y'are," I laughed. "No shit! I drink Bud all tha time," Ty replied with a grin. He reached out and jerked a can out of the plastic sleeve. Perhaps I should have stopped him. His eyes stayed locked on mine, sending that same message that had been there all along. It was like looking at a fallen angel. His eyes seduced me every time. He knew it. I knew it. We both knew that there was no way that I was going to stop him from drinking beer. He ripped off the pop-top using his thumb, like he had been doing it every day of his life. He lifted it to his mouth, gulping quickly. His tiny Adam's apple bobbed, and bobbed again before he stopped guzzling. He wiped the back of his hand over his lips and gave a ten-year-old burp. He gnawed some more off his chicken leg, ignoring the fact that I was staring at him. He licked his fingers, sucked on them, chewed on the bone like a puppy, drank some more beer. I kept thinking of his plump little ball-sac, and I wanted to look underneath the tee-shirt again. "Whatcha lookin' at?" Ty asked between bites. "Nuthin'!" "Yeah, y'are." He wiped his mouth again, smearing shiny grease over his cheek. He licked his perfectly shaped lips. "I was thinkin' yer gonna get grease all over ma' shirt," I laughed. "Ya want me to take it off?" Ty said suggestively. "Um,... ah,..." I stumbled. "No, that's okay." Ty smirked at me, licking the chicken bone. I wondered if he intended it the same way that I saw it. Then, he popped more than half of it in his mouth and sucked on the remaining flesh so that his cheeks pulled inward. I licked my lips absently, barely believing that he could be so uninhibited. The only way that I could force myself to look away was to take a long drink of beer. I took out a piece of chicken, gave a momentary thought to removing the skin and herb crusting, and decided to eat it anyway. There was no point in not eating the best part of the chicken. I ate hungrily, watching the fishing program without interest, occasionally glancing at the boy next to me, with interest. He had started on a chicken thigh and was already half way done. He looked up and grinned at me. "Ya like chicken, don'tcha Terry?" he asked boldly. "'s okay." "Ya like Bobbie more?" "Huh? 'course I like Bobbie. We've been together for a coupla years now." "Ah don't mean like that," Ty said after a long pause. "Ah mean like." He smirked at me. "As in l-i-k-e." "Huh?" I answered absently. "You and him." "Whatcha talkin' 'bout?" I demanded. There was a momentary shock on his face. My tone had taken him by surprise. "Sor-ry," he murmured. "I got it wrong, I guess." "Got what wrong?" I persisted. "Nuthin'! I'm sorry." He glared at me, furrowing his eyebrows. "I reckon I oughta be goin' home soon." he started to get up off the bed. "Answer the fuckin' question," I said. "Got what wrong?" "Nuthin! Okay!" "Not okay." "Ah thought you and Bobbie was a pair, like.... I fucked up!" "Huh?" The words sank in slowly. "You mean,...." "Tha way people look at yer, ya can tell, ya know, what they like 'n all." "Look? Whatcha talkin' 'bout?" I asked. "You thought me and Bobbie's a pair of queers or somethin'?" "He is. I kinda figured yer one too, from how ya look at me." "Whatcha mean, Bobbie is?" I persisted. "He ain't married, but it don't mean shit." "Don't really matter if he's married. Some guys swing both ways," Ty said offhandedly. "How can ya tell?" I asked after a moment. Ty shrugged. "It's how he looks, ya know stares 'n all. Ah reckon when them two babes came over durin' tha race, and he told 'em to fuck off, there weren't no doubt 'bout it then." "Oh?" I was lost for words. I could think of several times over the last few years that I had any real cause for doubt beyond a lingering suspicion about Bobbie Gerdsen's sexual inclinations. All the times, the hundreds of times that we had shared a motel room, nothing had happened. It was like sharing a room with a priest who actually believed his vows of chastity. "So you thought,... him and me were,...." Ty nodded slightly. "Ain't ya?" "Me and him? No way," I shook my head firmly. "Good friends is 'bout as far as we go." Ty stroked his bottom lip thoughtfully, reconsidering.