Date: Mon, 30 Jul 2001 18:26:55
From: Ganymede
Subject: Sixty Nine chapter 9

'69' Chapter 9.  by Ganymede


WARNING:


This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts
between a man and a MINOR boy. It is not true! The story is not
intended to promote illegal acts against minors. I do not
condone child abuse, however the love of boys is a different
matter. Despite the prevalent attitudes of western society,
men have loved boys throughout recorded history. It is my goal
to help readers appreciate that love can exist between men
and boys. If the subject of man/boy love 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!

By downloading this story:

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perjury that you are not a minor or in the company of a
minor and are entitled to have access to material intended
for mature, responsible members of society capable of making
decisions about the content of documents they wish to read...."

Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely
accidental. The sexual acts described in the story are the
result of my imagination. I have not performed these acts, and
I do not encourage others to perform them with minors.

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A copy
has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoyment.
The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. The story
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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!




'69' by Ganymede

Chapter 9.



By the time we returned to the trailer park the freshness of
the early morning was beginning to be replaced by the sultry air
of summer. It looked even more depressing in the light of day. The
trailers at the end of the rutted narrow lane were even more
decrepit. A thin film of dust clung to everything. The smell was
not as disgusting as it had been the last time, but it was still
so bad that it was all I could do not to clamp a handkerchief over
my nose and crawl on the ground. The rusted car that had been
parked in front of Ty's trailer was gone, although there was a
large dark patch on the ground where it had been leaking oil. I
counted myself very fortunate that Ty's grandmother had left
before we arrived.

According to Ty, she was probably at the local Waffle House,
where she 'sometimes' worked the first shift. Based on my
experience that meant that she was waiting tables from six in the
morning for five dollars an hour plus meager tips. I suspected he
chose to say 'sometimes' because from what I had observed,
more often than not she would not be sober enough to get out of
bed. Ty stayed close by my side, reluctant to go near the
dilapidated trailer that he had called home for as long as he
could remember, and then some. He wandered around close to where I
had parked the Pontiac as if the car was his only means of escape.

We watched Bobbie back the truck up the narrow road. Driving that
behemoth on the freeways was something I preferred not to do if I
could possibly avoid it, but negotiating in reverse the twisting
dirt road that led back to where Ty and I were waiting would have
been far beyond my driving skills.

There were a couple of trees very close to the road on the last
turn. Bobbie maneuvered the truck past them without even slowing
down or needing a second attempt. He switched of the engine and
swung down from the cabin. He tossed out most of the contents of a
paper cup onto the ground. I growled, not because he was
littering--another paper cup would hardly have been noticed in
the mess-- but a cup of coffee would have gone down great at that
moment.

"Good job," I called out as he walked towards us.

Bobbie shrugged and wiped his hands on the side of his tee
shirt. He was wearing a similar shirt to the one that Ty wore,
although the one that Bobbie had on was decorated with a couple of
coffee stains. I was beginning to like seeing my name and the
number '69' on clothes. It wasn't that it made me feel like a bit
of a celebrity, that they did it to please me, or even that I
finally had a few fans, but simply that they were proud of me.

"Yeah, not bad fer an old man," Ty echoed cheekily.

He dodged quickly to the side of Bobbie pretended to swipe at
him with his hand. Ty danced out of reach, giggling and ready to
torment Bobbie further. He skipped around exhibiting with I
thought to be remarkable agility for that time in the morning.

"He sure moves fast, don't he," Bobbie said gruffly. "But I'll
get him when he ain't watchin'."

"Feel free," I chuckled. "When ya catch him, give him one fer
me too. He's gettin' a bit outta hand."

"After this mornin', ya must be kiddin'. Did I miss somethin'?
It sounded to me like ya had him eatin' outta yer hand, Terry."

I gave Bobbie a 'don't go there' look, although it was already
too late. It was a problem that I had brought on myself. He
smirked knowingly, and then deliberately glanced at Ty. It was a
long look, curious, appraising, telling. Strangely, it did not
bother me that Bobbie knew about what was going on between us. He
seemed to accept it and that alone was enough to give an air of
respectability to it, that it was less shameful, and almost
socially acceptable.

After a while I cleared my throat.

"He certainly don't look none the worse fer it," Bobbie said
quietly. He raised an eyebrow. "I cain't say that about you,
Terry. Ya look plumb tuckered out."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" I asked. I could feel my face
beginning to get red.

"Nuthin', Boss," Bobbie said moodily. He winked meaningfully
at Ty. "Don't worry kid, he'll get over it after he's had some
practice."

Ty grinned back at him. "I'll work on it, okay."

"I bet you will. Sure smells like shit around here, don't it?"
Bobbie commented, still exchanging grins with Ty.

I nodded. "It ain't nowhere near as bad as it was last night,"
I said. "There's a sewage plant right over there," I said as I
pointed to the woods. "When the breeze picks up it stinks like
hell. Might even be worse than yer bedroom last night."

Bobbie chuckled. "No way. There's nuthin' better than the
sweet smell of butt funk. You'll get used to that soon enough,
trust me Terry. I guess we better get a move on before the wind
starts blowin'. So dude, where's this awesome race kart of yers?"

"Over there," Ty said with a nod of his head. "I got my own
pits. See 'em?"

Bobbie walked in front with Ty and me tagging along behind.

"Fuckin' hell! It's an Olimpic," he exclaimed. He spun around,
grinning. "I thought you were havin' me on, kid. It's maybe, no
make that definitely the best fuckin' chassis there is, Terry," he
added expertly. He looked at the engine parts sitting on the work
bench. "God-damn pity about the engine. It's a Raptor alright, but
it's a fuckin' mess."

"Is it salvageable?" I asked.

"Yeah. Maybe. Cain't be sure till we get it in the shop.
Where's the body fer it, Ty?"

"I got it stashed under the trailer. It's fucked pretty bad,
Bobbie. The side got smashed in a wreck," Ty answered miserably.



"Well, it cain't be that bad. I bet I can fix it. You ain't
seen what Terry can do with a car body when he ain't payin'
attention, have ya?"

I grimaced, remembering Talladaga. "It don't happen all that
often," I said bitterly.

Bobbie laughed. "Well, there's a reason why they call me the
'fiber-ass' and it ain't 'cause of my diet."

"Ain't that the truth," I chuckled.

Bobbie gave me a deprecating glare. "Like yer diet is somethin'
to be proud of, Terry. I tell ya what. I'll bet ya twenty bucks ya
start watching what ya eat now ya got a skinny little kid hanging
around. Yer gotta to set him a good example 'n all. Yer gonna have
to keep in shape with him around too, or you'll have a heart
attack."

"Ya got that right. Ya should'a seen him puttin' away that
fuckin' fried chicken we had fer dinner," Ty laughed. "I was lucky
I got any of it cause of some dumb asshole who kept taking
pieces."

This time I swiped at him. I nearly got him, but his reflexes
were very fast. He darted away, giggling. After about a dozen
paces he decided he was safely out of reach and he stopped. He
grinned and licked his lips, bouncing up and down on the balls of
his feet. I was jealous of his youth and the boundless energy that
came with it.

"The runt's got a foul mouth on him, ain't he? Ya better git
some at the drug store. Well, I reckon we oughta get this stuff in
the truck," Bobbie said, still laughing.

He beckoned to Trevor who was still listening to the radio in
the truck cabin. Trevor climbed down and ambled over to join us,
leaving the door open and the sound of the long-haired lady of
Country and Western blaring out into the still morning air.
Perhaps it was my imagination, but Trevor walked stiffly, almost
as if he was saddle sore.

"What say we each take a side and carry this little beauty over
to my truck," Bobbie suggested after the good morning
pleasantries were exchanged.

Ty and I took the front end. On the count of three, we lifted.
It was much lighter than I expected.

"It don't weigh shit," I laughed.

"Of course not. It's chromoly, one and a quarter," Bobbie
explained. "This is gonna be one hot kart by the time we're done."

"Huh?"

"Me and Trev were thinkin' on the way over 'ere we'd work on it
at night when we're done with the car, Terry. It'd be kinda like a
hobby fer us when we get tired of the race car. By the time we're
done, there won't be nuthin' that can get close to it."

Ty turned around, looking back over his shoulder across the
kart as we carried it towards the truck. He beamed. His mouth
opened as he tried to find the words to thank them.

Bobbie laughed. "Ya know, I'm just thinkin' aloud, but maybe
the team could sponsor him, Terry?"

"The team can barely pay it's own bills," I said grumpily.

It struck me as I said it that I was jealous more than anything
else. I wasn't jealous of Ty, or even that Bobbie and Trevor
wanted to spend their personal time doing something for him, but
that they had the skill to fix his kart so that it was better than
new. I wanted it to be me who fixed it instead of them. I wanted
to do things to make Ty's life better, to make up for what he had
missed so far in growing up in this miserable trailer park with a
grandmother who was drunk as often as she was sober. I wanted to
be responsible for his happiness.

"I guess it wouldn't cost that much if you guys can salvage
most of this stuff," I added. "We'll see."

I glanced at Ty. 'We'll see' was not going to be enough. I
wanted to do a lot more for him than simply fix his kart so that
it could race again.

"Maybe you can do a few races while we're off the race circuit,
if Bobbie gets it fixed quickly," I continued.

"Will ya, Bobbie?"

"Me and Trev will give it our best shot. Hey Trev, go open the
back of the truck up while I hold this mother."

Trevor hurried to open the rear doors and swung them to the
sides. He pushed some cardboard boxes away to make room for the
kart and then moved back to take the load from Terry.

"I'd like that. You guys are really cool," Ty said as he beamed
again and heaved up to lift the front of the kart into the back of
the semi-trailer.

It took about ten minutes to locate all the pieces of the kart.
The wheels were hidden behind the 'pits'. Ty scrambled through the
thick brush to recover them one at a time. Each wheel was wrapped
in old cloths for protection. I unwrapped one as Ty went back to
get another. The alloy rim had been hand-polished and it had taken
hours and hours. Each wheel was a labor of love.

The kart body was in sad shape with torn and crushed fiberglass
on the front and most of one side. At first glance it did not
appear to be worth saving because even with a lot of
reinforcement, it would never be strong enough given the degree of
damage that had been sustained. However, Bobbie assured me that
the broken remains could be used to make a mold to build a new
body. I heard him mention 'carbon fiber' to Trevor and I groaned
to myself as I began to imagine the cost.

It was only after all of the pieces were loaded and the truck
was halfway down the dirt road that I paused to rest by leaning
back against the side of the Pontiac. During the last few minutes
it had become noticeably hotter. I wiped my brow and took one last
look around Ty's 'pits' to see if we had overlooked anything.

"Hi Paul," Ty called out from beside me.

I turned to see who he was talking to. A boy, lanky and
probably in his mid teens, had opened the door of the adjacent
trailer. He was dressed in boxers and nothing else. He waved
listlessly and slowly descended the stairs. His hair was short and
dark. There were two earrings in his left ear. His face had a
wasted look. His cheeks were pinched and there were dark smudges
around his eyes. He had a few pimples but seemed to have escaped
the afflictions of adolescence.

He appeared to be oblivious to the presence of three men and a
semi-trailer.

"How's it going, Dude?" Ty added when Paul was within an arm's
reach.

"Okay, Ty. He ain't up yet," Paul answered tonelessly.

If I did not know better, I would have said the teenager had a
hangover. He shuffled his feet in the dirt. His eyes narrowed as
he glanced at me momentarily.

"I think yer gran's gone up to the Waffle House. I heard her
car startin' earlier."

Ty nodded. He turned and with a shy but proud smile,
acknowledged my presence. "This here's my friend, Terry Atkins,
Paul. He's a Nascar driver," he added proudly.

"Yeah, I figured that when I seen the truck. I watched him
yesterday afternoon on Gordon Jeffries ass. Number Sixty-Nine.
Man, does that ever sound like you."

"Huh?" Ty murmured.

"Sixty-nine? You know? Shit! Sixty-nine! As in doin' what ya do
best." Paul smirked.

He made his lips push forward slightly and then, realizing that
I was watching but not caring, he used his tongue to lick his
lips. Ty reddened. He resisted looking back at me. He scuffed his
feet in the dirty sand and shrugged.

"It ain't like that, Paul."

"Yeah, like hell it ain't. He told me he signed somethin' fer
Tina last night 'bout you?" Paul prompted. "It was some paper
'bout you and some guy havin' guardianship or somethin'.

"I'm goin' away with him fer a while, that's all. Till the end
of summer."

Paul's eyes moved towards me, silently assessing what he saw. A
moment later, his eyes flickered downwards to check out my crotch.
His look made me feel uncomfortable. For a few moments when our
eyes met again, I realized that we were exchanging thoughts. It
was no secret that this gangly teenager had been intimate with Ty.
His eyes told me that. They had been intimate not once, but often.
He wanted me to know that Ty was used merchandise. He wanted me to
be jealous.

"Is Claire doin' okay?" Ty asked softly.

"Yeah, she's okay," Paul answered. "She's asleep right now. I
can go get her if ya want me to?"

"Nah, that's okay. I don't want to wake her up. Will ya say
goodbye to her fer me?" Ty asked uncomfortably.

Paul's eyes met mine again as he nodded. His fingers rasped
against the palm of his hand. Ty sniffed and his small hand came
up to wipe over his nose. He absently sucked on his bottom lip.
His eyes blinked. He sighed. Paul tensed, blinking nervously.

"You oughta tell someone, Paul," Ty said hesitantly. "Make him
stop it."

"Yeah, right. I told ya it ain't that bad most of the time.
Sometimes it's even okay. No matter what he does, it's way better
than bein' in some muther-fuckin' home, Ty. Least ways Jeanie and
me are together this way."

"But,..."

"It's cool, Ty. Leave it alone, will ya?"

Paul stopped talking and studied his fingers, rubbing his
fingernails with his thumb. Like his lean body, his fingers were
bony. I allowed my eyes for drop down for an instant. He was
probably no larger than average in the groin area, but his angular
body seemed to accentuate that part of his anatomy.

"I guess we had better get goin', Ty," I said after no one had
spoken for about a  minute.

Ty nodded. "Take it easy, okay Paul?" he said as he held out
his hand.

Paul winced. His hand clasped Ty's hand, tentatively. They
shook, not like two boys who were saying goodbye, but as two boys
who were afraid of what the future held for them.

"Take care of Claire, okay?" Ty implored. He sounded
desparate.

Paul nodded. He breathed out. "It's okay for her, Ty. Really it
is. It ain't what he likes. You know what I mean."

"Paul?..."

"Don't be doing nuthin' I would do," Paul joked feebly. "Yer
know somethin'? Yer luckier than hell, Kincaid."

"I'll send ya email or somethin', Dude," Ty said awkwardly.

Paul still held his hand. I wondered just how much the two boys
had shared together before I came into Ty's life. I could tell one
thing. It was more than just having sex. They were friends. They
may even have been close enough to be lovers. I turned away and
walked to the rear of the car with the intention of giving them
some privacy. I heard Ty whispering, Paul saying nothing, nothing
except 'okay'. Then, the boys fell silent. I turned back, sensing
that something was wrong. A man was watching them. He was in the
same place where Paul had been standing when he first came out of
the trailer, yet he had to stoop to fit underneath the drooping
porch roof. I recognized the man immediately. He was the man who
had witnessed the document that gave Tina's permission for Ty to
travel with me until the end of the summer.

"Hey Kincaid! Git yer butt over 'ere a minute!" he called out
in an angry voice.

Paul turned angrily. He mouthed something, an obscenity that
he was not brave enough to say aloud."

"Don't even be thinkin' it, yer little shit!" the man added in
a tone that demanded obedience.

Ty started walking slowly in the direction of the trailer.
Then, some apparently unpleasant thought passed through his mind
and he recoiled, fighting the ingrained response to do what he was
told. He stood perfectly still, waiting for the man to say or do
something. I could sense the tension building between them. The
man scowled at him, his eyes narrowing as he silently fumed. I
started to walk towards Ty. By the time I was next to Ty, he had
become visibly nervous, clenching his fists impotently. At the
same time, the man had come down the steps. He walked across the
littered ground, kicking a toy dump truck out of the way. He
stopped behind Paul, pushing him so that he faced Ty, then holding
him there by placing both of his hands on the teenager's bony
naked shoulders.

"I'm surprised ya came back here, Kincaid. I didn't think ya
had the fuckin' balls fer it," he sneered.

"What's that s'posed to mean?" Ty asked.

"Ya always were a thievin' little cunt, weren't ya?"

"I ain't takin' nuthin' that ain't mine. I'm pickin' up the
kart, that's all. It's mine!" he added adamantly.

The man shrugged. "'Bout fuckin' time that shit got moved. I'm
tired 'a lookin' at yer fuckin' mess. Just keep yer hands of my
stuff!"

"I ain't touchin' yer stuff," Ty retorted.

"Anyway, it looks like ya finally got what ya wanted, didn't
ya? He's more yer kind than Paul. Ain't that right, Paul?"

"Fuck you," Ty said under his breath.

He laughed. "Ya can wish all ya want, Kincaid, but I ain't the
one whose bendin' over! Yer welcome to him, Mister Atkins. It is
Atkins ain't it? Yer Terry Atkins, the race-car driver, ain't ya?
That were the fuckin' name on Tina's paper, weren't it? I pretty
much figured out who you was right after ya left last night, but
that rig you brought in here to get Ty's crap fuckin' proved it.
Fuckin' sixty-nine plastered right down the side. I bet ya cain't
wait to get into his pants. "

"If ya got something to say, then say it, Mister," I countered.
"I'm takin' Ty with me fer the summer. He's a friend. He's gonna
help out with the team, and that's all."

Did I really believe that I said? I hoped that it sounded
believable even though I knew that my relationship with Ty had
progressed far beyond friendship earlier that morning. We had
crossed into forbidden territory. Friends don't have oral sex,
not when one of them is a preteen boy. Everything had changed
between us, at least from my perspective. I wondered what Ty
thought about what had happened. We had not talked about it during
the drive from the motel. However, he had been definitely thinking
about it, just as I had been pensive. We would have to talk about
it sooner or later.

"Yeah, sure he is! 'N pigs fuckin' fly too? Trust me, Atkins,
ya got yerself a boy there who's one hot little fucker. If ya
don't believe me, ask Paul. Paul and him's been gettin' it off
ever since I moved in here. They're both a pair of ass-fuckin'
queers."

Ty shrank back even further. I could feel him trembling beside
me. I placed my hands firmly, possessively on his shoulders. I
held him almost the same way that the man was holding Paul, yet
what I felt inside was not about ownership. I wanted to protect
Ty. I don't know why I wanted to shelter him, other than to show
this unpleasant and crude man that the boy who he was talking
about was someone I cared about a great deal. My thumbs stroked
the bare brown skin at each side of Ty's neck.

I could feel my anger growing. I breathed out, counted to
'ten', trying resist the impulse to punch him. He was taller than
I was, and very likely stronger too, but I would have better
reflexes. I wondered what the man's problem was, for there clearly
was a problem.

"Ya know somethin'? I don't give a fuck what Ty has or hasn't
done with Paul," I said angrily. "That's his business. As fer as
I'm concerned, he's a nice kid who deserves a better life than
livin' in this hole."

"That may be, but he's also an ass-fuckin' faggot!" the man
retorted. He smiled with amusement.

"I ain't," Ty shouted. "That ain't true!"

"I don't care what he is," I said calmly. "And I don't care
what he's done in the past."

The man shrugged. "The hell ya don't. But then I guess you must
like little boys too, Mister Atkins?"

"For Christ's sake! I ain't some god damned pervert," I
rebuked. "He's spendin' the summer with us 'cause my team thinks
he brings us good luck."

"Yeah, I can just imagine. I didn't know bein' a faggot was
lucky," he guffawed. "I guess it depends on yer point 'a view."

"Fer God's sake! Anyway, he's too young to be anything other
than a kid," I added defensively.

He smirked. "Don't bet on it, Mister. Some kids are never too
young fer dick." He squeezed Paul's shoulders until he winced
uncomfortably. "And some like it so much it's more than boys
gettin' it off with other boys. Ain't that right, Paul?"

Paul nodded uncomfortably. There were tears in his eyes. The
man had not squeezed his shoulder hard enough to hurt him. There
had to be another reason for his pain. I don't know what I should
have done at the time, but I took the easy way out. There was no
point in arguing, and even less point in trying to resolve our
differences by fighting, much though I would have loved to punch
the smile off his face. I guided Ty backwards, taking one hand
from his shoulders to open the car door behind me. I pushed him
gently until he dropped into the seat. I walked up to Paul and the
man who still stood behind him.

"Ya know, I really don't care what ya think," I said softly.
"From everything that I've seen of Ty Kincaid so far, he's
basically a good kid who deserves a better life than the one he's
had up till now."

The man wrinkled his nose distastefully. "Yer gonna enjoy
fuckin' him. He's still got his cherry fer as I know, so he's
gonna be tight. Ain't that right, Paulie? Ya would'a told me it ya
gone 'n dicked him, wouldn't ya?"

Paul's hands closed to form impotent fists and his jaws
clenched. He did not need to say anything. I could see the answer
in his eyes. I turned away and left them standing there.



Ty and I were silent until we were back on the I-95 freeway. We
were headed north and away from Daytona. I had no plans for the
next week or two, until I was needed back in Asheville. Bobbie
would make better progress if I was not around. I drove in a
mindless vacuum, not thinking about what I was doing or where we
were going. I had a lot to think about, not the least being the
new 'responsibility' that was seated next to me. Ty sucked on his
bottom lip, watching the buildings and cars pass by but without
paying attention to anything in particular. We had just passed the
sign for the Flagler Beach exit when Ty turned and looked at me.

"What's up?" he asked softly. Like me, he did not like extended
periods of silence.

I glanced at him. He smiled back. "Nuthin' much, Ace. How're ya
doin'?"

"I'm okay," he murmured with another weak smile.

I nodded thoughtfully. Given what I had observed at the trailer
park, he was carrying a lot of emotional baggage. Although I had
never opened a book on psychology, it was my opinion that sort of
baggage needed to be opened and discarded at the earliest
opportunity.

"Ya wanna talk about it, Ace?"

"'Bout what?"

"Whatever it is that botherin' ya," I suggested.

Ty shrugged. He turned his head and stared out the window. His
hair was too short to blow around very much, but his rat's tail
was tossed around in the wind. His ears fascinated me. They were
small, delicate, also sun tanned. The graceful curve of his neck
begged to be nuzzled and kissed. I imagined my tongue tracing
along his silky smooth skin as I followed the stretched tendons of
his neck, reaching in the ridge of his deep collar bone. In a
word, he was sexy. he was very sexy. He radiated sex like the
hookers who worked around some of the southern race tracks.
Despite his moodiness, he had the looks and the attitude that
said, 'I'm hot!'

"Sometimes it helps if ya talk about things," I prompted.

He shrugged again. "'N sometimes it don't, Terry," he said
miserably.

"Ty?"

"Yeah?" he answered over his shoulder, not turning back to look
at me.

"You wanna tell me about Paul?"

"Ain't nuthin' to tell." He hesitated. "He's cool."

"Sure he is. 'N good lookin' too."

"You got the hots for him too?" Ty asked sarcastically.

"No. Just you."

"Ha ha!" he replied cynically. "Like wow."

"You wanna tell me 'bout the man back there. What's with him?
Why is he such an ass-hole?"

"Ass-hole is an understatement fer that fucker," Ty commented
dryly. "He's a fuckin' piece of dog shit."

"Why?" I asked gently.

"'Cause of what he done to Paul."

"What did he do?"

"Nuthin'." Ty sighed. He took a deep breath, held it in for a
long while. And then the dam burst. "Damn, muther-fuckin' cunt!
Fuckin' miserable ass-hole. FUCK HIM!"

"Okay, I get the impression there's a problem here," I said
lightly.

Ty looked at me then. His eyes had become red and were full of
tears. His hand shook as he wiped the wetness away. He shook his
head, again and again, and again.

"He fucks Paul, Ter. Every fuckin' night he does it."

"Oh!" I said awkwardly.

Ty slumped into his seat and sighed loudly. Again, he smeared
the tears from his eyes, leaving wet trails across his cheeks.

"How long has it been goin' on?" I asked.

"A long time. A coupla years now, I guess."

I nodded and tried not to show my concern. There was one
question I had that I dared not ask because of the answer I might
receive. Had Ty been dragged into it as well? I feared the worst.

"How did it start?"

"He found them,..." Ty began. "They were doin' it one time,...
after they got home from school."

"Huh? Who is they?"

"Paul,... 'n Claire. Claire's his sister."

"Okay." I waited.

"They were havin' sex," Ty said as if it was the most normal
thing in the world for a a brother and sister to be having sex.

"Oh! And he found 'em, right?" I asked. Ty nodded.

When Ty had described his sexual exploits it had involved a
girl who was five years old at the time. Suddenly, I realized that
the girl I had seen at the trailer park was Paul's sister. Ty had
also been involved with her. She had provided the 'pussy' that he
had talked about. I felt my heart sink. I did not know what to
say.

"I fucked her too, Terry," Ty admitted. He sounded proud, and
momentarily, I felt a cold chill despite the increasing heat.

"I kinda figured that out fer myself."

"I only done it the once," he added.  Suddenly, the macho pride
was gone and he sounded ashamed. "I lied when I said it was lotsa
times. I just wanted to find out what it felt like."

"That's probably a good thing," I remarked.

"I couldn't 'a got her pregnant 'cause I was too young," Ty
added as if that somehow mitigated the situation. "But Paul
could'a, I guess."

"I don't think so."

Ty looked up. "Huh? He could do it, you know,..."

"He could shoot?" I prompted. Ty nodded and smiled slightly.
"It wouldn't have mattered if he shot a load as big as mine, Ace.
Not if she was five or six," I explained. "Just putting sperm in a
pussy ain't enough. The girl needs to be mature as well," I added
as an after thought.

"Oh! So girls have to make white stuff first?" Ty asked shyly.

I laughed. "Not exactly. Only guys do that. Girls have eggs
that come down from inside them when they're mature."

"Kinda like chickens," Ty smirked.

"Yeah, in a way, only the egg that comes down is a whole lot
smaller."

We sat in silence for a minute or more, listening to the purr
of the engine and looking out over the low hood of the Pontiac. It
seemed suck up the freeway. We had gotten off the subject and
while we had to return to finish what we had started, we were both
reluctant. Surprisingly, it was Ty who broke the silence.

"Paul and me got this place we go to,..." Ty began nervously.
He gnawed on his knuckles for an moment. "You know,... when we
want to cool down 'n stuff. It's right behind the pits,... back
near where the wheels were. It's shady in the afternoon. Mostly we
just take out clothes off 'cause it gets so hot, but sometimes we,
you know,... we ah, do stuff together."

"Lucky Paul," I teased. Ty gave me a condescending look and I
shrugged. "Yer still a kid, ain't ya? That means yer s'posed to
play around, and if yer normal then ya do some sex stuff with yer
friends. That ain't no one's business but yers, Ty. If you don't
tell, no one's goin' to know."

"I'm only tellin' so ya know what happened," Ty answered.

"It was really nice that he liked ya," I said supportively.
"Most boys wouldn't do stuff like that with a boy who was four or
five years younger than them."

"Yeah, I know. Paul's got this learning problem so there's only
like two grades between us at school. He ain't too bright
sometimes, but he's cool."

"He seemed like a real nice kid," I admitted. "So what happened
with Claire?"

"Mostly we didn't do nuthin' with Claire," Ty added. "She's a
pest most of the time, but I kinda like her. Anyway, what I was
gettin' around to was there was this one time she found me and
Paul together."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Ty smirked, remembering a happy time in his otherwise
unpleasant life. "It was real hot that day, Terry. Well, we both
got naked see."

"Lucky Paul," I teased again.

"Geez, yer've got a one-track mind, ain't ya?" Ty said
gleefully. "Claire snuck up on us. She said she was gonna tell her
mom if we didn't let her get naked too." He smiled shyly. "There
really weren't no way to stop her from takin' her clothes off. It
just kinda happened,..."

"Huh?"

"Sometimes, if it ain't too hot Paul and me wrestle," Ty
answered. "You know, 'cause it's more fun to do that in the nude
'n all. Well, she wanted to do that too, only with me 'cause Paul
was too big. So we started wrestin' and the next thing is my dick
is stuck up her pussy."

"Lucky Claire," I chuckled. "So I take it that was how young Ty
lost his virginity?"

"Lost my what?"

"Nuthin'. What about Paul's step-dad?" I asked.

I waited for him to go on. Gone was the brash little boy. Now,
he was very nervous. He closed his eyes, replaying in his mind the
events that had happened one afternoon.

"I had to stay back after school that day," he said softly. "So
I only saw the end of it."

"What happened?"

"I could hear them when I got near to the trailers," Ty said
miserably. "Paul was makin' this sound like he was cryin', kinda.
'N I could hear Claire screamin' and shoutin' out somethin' about
stoppin'. So I went to look,..."

Ty swallowed. He licked his lips, then immediately rubbed his
fingers across his mouth. He glanced at me then quickly lowered
his eyes to stare into his lap.

"It was over in like a few seconds."

"What was?"

"What he was doin' to Paul," Ty muttered.

"What was he,.... Oh! You mean?"

"He was fuckin' Paul in the butt, Terry. I could see it goin'
in and out from where I stood." He shuddered. "Paul was underneath
him. He was trying to get away, but the mother-fucker pushed his
face into the ground. Then he done it even harder."

"I'm sorry," I said awkwardly.

"Ain't yer fault, Terry," Ty said dejectedly. "There ain't
nuthin' either of us could'a done to stop it. When he was done he
got up and left Paul lying there. He took Claire back into the
trailer with him."

"Was he hurt bad?"

Ty nodded. "I seen some blood on Paul's butt, 'n it was a mess
'n all. So I asked him and he said it hurt some at first, but
that's all." Ty breathed out heavily. "It hurts don't it, Terry?
When a man does it to a boy?"

"I guess. I ain't done anything like that before so I really
don't know, Ty," I added. "I expect it probably hurts pretty bad
the first time or two. I think it gets stretched after a while. It
probably stops hurtin' after a while. I mean, gay guys wouldn't
keep doin' it if it didn't feel good, would they?"

"Yeah, that's what Paul said. So where are we goin', Terry?" he
asked, without even pausing to adjust to a different topic.

"I don't really know. I'm just drivin' 'cause ya said we oughta
haul our asses out of Daytona."

"Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?"

He grinned. He stretched, lifting his arms back behind his
head, letting his hands extend through the open roof.

"I don't have to do nuthin' I don't want fer the rest of
summer," he mused.

"Huh?"

He smirked. "I was jus' thinkin' out loud, Terry."

"Thinkin' what?" I prompted.

"Nuthin' much. Just about you 'n me."

"Oh? That's all?"

"Yeah. It's cool." He giggled. He turned, giving me a shy look.
"Ya gonna do that again, Ter?"

"Do what?" I asked. Ty grinned and formed an 'o' with his lips.
"Oh that? It depends. I didn't think ya liked it all that much," I
teased.

"Huh? What makes ya think I didn't like it?" he said seriously.

"Did ya?"

"It was okay," Ty said blandly. He winked. "You did alright fer
yer first time 'n everthin'."

"I guess I'll have to practice some more."

"Yeah, I guess so," Ty grinned. "It was pretty good actually.
Only ya stuck yer finger where it weren't s'posed to go, didn't
ya?"

"Sorry 'bout that. Ya should'a said somethin'."

"I did."

"Yeah, that's right. I remember now. How did it go? 'Oh! Oh
Terry! Oh! Faster!"

Ty grimaced. "Did fuckin' not!"

"Did too. Actually, you said something more like 'Oh god,
Ohhhhh, Terry. I'm gonna do it. Ohhhhh! Ohhhhh shit!'"

I laughed and Ty made a sour face that was funny because he
could not help giggling. When that did not work, he tried to pout,
and then he tried to ignore me. Finally he gave up.

"The butt is off limits from now on!" he said dramatically.

"Okay,"  I answered meekly.

"Okay?"

"I ain't never goin' to do somethin' ya don't want me to do,
Ace. It's a rule I got. Anyway, my finger weren't even in yer
butt."

"It sure felt like it to me," he retorted defensively

"Nope. I was just ticklin' around the outside to see if ya
liked it. 'N goin' by all the noise ya made when I did it, I
reckon ya liked it a whole lot."

"No fuckin' way."

I grinned, getting a peculiar thrill from his response. My
intuition was telling me a very different story. There was no
doubt that he enjoyed it. He was merely trying to conceal it from
me. I did not respond for a while. Both of us needed time to
think.

"I guess it was okay then," he muttered. He glanced at me, then
bashfully, quickly averted his eyes. "I mean if ya was just
ticklin',... then that's okay."

I nodded seriously. "I was."

"It felt okay then," he ventured.

"I'm glad, Ace."

"Huh?"

"Nuthin'," I replied vaguely.

I stretched my arms straight out, race-car driver style, to get
into a more comfortable position. At almost the same instant, Ty
moved his legs apart, until one knee was against the door lining
and the other was pressed against the transmission hump. Basking
in the morning sun, with his hands bent back behind him and
holding on to the T-roof, he was the epitome of boyhood. If there
was any doubt about his gender, there was a small yet very
prominent rounded bulge in his shorts to prove it.

"So where do ya want to go next, Ace?" I asked, changing the
subject as we passed the exit to St. Augustine.

Ty shrugged. "I don't care. I'm happier 'n hell sittin' right
here with you."

"Then I'll just keep drivin' until we see somewhere we want to
get off," I laughed. "Ya just sit there and snooze, if yer want
Ace. Why don't ya work on yer tan?"

"Huh? Sun tan? Yeah, right. How am I s'posed to do that in a
car?"

"Take off yer shirt fer starters," I replied with a finger
pointing upward to remind him that the detachable roof panel was
sitting in the trunk. "Ya got nice brown arms fer now, but if
don't watch it yer gonna have a trucker tan like mine."

Ty grinned. "It ain't so bad so long as ya keep a shirt on."

"Very funny."

It took Ty about a second to get his tee-shirt off. He giggled,
dropping the shirt over the back of the seat. He was already
nicely tanned and in the morning sun he literally glowed like
polished bronze. It was all that I could do to keep my eyes on the
road. Fortunately, the traffic was not heavy in the direction we
were going, at least not compared to the traffic moving steadily
to the south.

"Comfortable now?" I teased.

"Yeah, but I know why ya wanted me to take my shirt of. 'Cause
ya just wanna look at me, ya pervert," Ty chided.

"Who me?" I pretended innocence.

"Yeah, you. So watcha think. Do ya like what ya see?"

"Yeah. I do. Any one ever tell ya that ya got a really nice
body, Ace."

"I turn ya on, don't I?" he teased.

"Not wrong," I said admiringly.

It was the first chance I had to examine his bare body in the
light of day. It was a lot different to seeing him in the motel
room, either under the harsh fluorescent light in the bathroom or
the dim lights in the bedroom. The sunlight changed his satin-
smooth skin so that it was a delicious--almost edible--shade of
golden brown. From the very first time I had laid eyes on him I
had realized that he was slender yet well-muscled, but seeing him
sitting in the car seat just a few feet away with his arms behind
his head, I was taken aback. His torso was stretched back, giving
a satin sheen to his skin. He was so lean that his belly skin
formed half-a-dozen thin lines both above and below his navel,
which was still visible as a cleverly sculpted knot of skin.

"Ya know somethin' yesterday I would'a said you were one
beautiful kid,... but I would'a been wrong 'cause yer not,... yer
drop dead gorgeous," I thought aloud.

"Hell, cut it out with the beautiful stuff. I ain't some girl,"
Ty rebuked.

"Sorry, Ace. No way. Ya sure ain't some titty girl, 'n I'm glad
you ain't."

I tried to concentrate on the driving. However, at 75 m.p.h. on
I-95 at nine a.m. and heading away from Daytona, I could have
driven with my eyes closed. I kept sneaking looks at Ty. He was
relaxed. He fiddled with the CD player, going through most of my
meager collection until he found one that we could both listen to.
Then he reclined back in his seat and put his feet up on the dash
board. He drummed his fingers on the console keeping time with the
Charlie Daniels Band. Twice, he leaned forward and turned up the
volume and adjusted the bass until the sound echoed and boomed
around us. By the second or third song, I was keeping time by
tapping my fingers against the steering wheel.

"Ya like this?" I asked loudly.

Ty nodded, by then slapping the palm of his hand on the seat
between the insides of his thighs as if he was playing a drum. For
a while he had even mimed the words of the song, lifting his head
back to reach what would have been loud high notes had he actually
been singing. After a while, he reached down and turned down the
volume.

"So what's it take to win at Nascar?" he asked.

"Why don't you tell me," I answered. "I still haven't figured
it out."

"Hm,... Well, car speed fer one. Ya got that, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"On the straight yer not as quick as Jeffries," Ty replied. "Ya
need a few more horses. The new engine oughta fix that. More
reliable too. It don't help much if ya don't finish. Yer chassis
setup is great. Then, ya got driver skill. I watched ya drive so I
reckon that's okay."

"Just okay?" I asked, expecting him to modify it to 'great'.

He grinned. "'And balls."

"Balls?"

"Yeah, balls. So's ya stick yer foot down hard and keep it
there."

"It takes more than a heavy foot to win a race," I said. Until
then, I was impressed by his answer.

"Why do ya think ya done so good at Daytona?" he demanded.

"It was mostly luck," I answered.

"Luck ain't got shit to do with it. Maybe if yer talkin' 'bout
a tire blow out or somethin'. The rest is preparation, good
teamwork, stuff like that. 'N a driver who wants to win. That's
the 'balls' part of it."

"Do I have the 'balls'?" I asked.

"Maybe. What ya don't have is the sponsors. Yer operation is
runnin' too fuckin' lean."

"That's the understatement of the fuckin' year, Ace. Believe
me, we've tried like hell to get sponsorship. No one's interested
in a back-of-the-pack car outta Asheville."

"Maybe. Maybe ya ain't tried the right approach," Ty said
merrily.

"And what might that be?" I asked.

My cell-phone rang.

"Jesus! That thing never stops ringin'," I complained.

I reached down and jerked it out of the case, switching it on
as I lifted it to my ear.

"Florida Sanitation Services. Making yer waste work for ya.
Can I help ya take out the trash?"

It was Terry, although it was hard to hear his voice over the
truck noise in the background and Ty's raucous laughter next to
me.

"Say what?" I said, completely baffled. "Ya oughta know by now.
I don't do fuckin' voice messages, Bobbie. If it's important,
they'll always call back. 'Course I don't mind. So what's up?...
Yeah, right.... Yer not jokin' are ya?... Earnhardt too, huh?...
Where?... That's in fuckin' California, ain't it? How long?...
Fer three days? Stay over fer a week? No way! I cain't do that,
not to him, Bobbie, not after what happened. We really weren't
planning on doin' that. He ain't interested... No! Jesus, Bobbie!
Ty too? Maybe... I guess. Maybe... It ain't much fuckin' notice. I
wonder how we should get there from here. I could drive back to
Daytona and fly outta there. We're a ways past St. Augustine. I
guess we still got a ways before we get to Fort Lauderdale....
Yeah, that's right. From Tallahassee? Yeah, I guess we could. It
shouldn't be too crowded. It makes sense to me too.... It'd mean
leavin' the car at the airport.... What's that s'posed to mean?
It's just a fuckin' Pontiac. Very fuckin' funny. Okay, see ya in a
week 'n a half. Get us a room at a Red Roof or somethin'.... No,
not two beds," I laughed, looking at Ty. "One bed is all we need."

I put the phone down. He regarded me with growing apprehension.

"What's up?" Ty asked.

"It seems I gotta go to L.A. fer a while. Maybe as long as a
week," I answered. "I just gotta an invite to some driver training
place in Ventura. I guess someone seen me drivin' yesterday."

Ty was crushed. His jovial crumpled like a flat tire. "That's
okay," he murmured. "I can easily hitch back to Daytona. It ain't
that fer."

I laughed. "Yer comin' with me, Ty. I'm in some advanced class.
Bobbie's callin' back to see if he can get you into one of the
junior groups."

"Yer jokin'," Ty said suspiciously. "Where is this?"

"Um, Ventura, I think Bobbie said. A lot of Nascar drivers have
gone there he said."

"Fuckin' ace!" Ty said effusively. "Ya know what he's talkin'
about, don't ya?"

"Huh?"

"It's the ultimate in kart racin'. There ain't none better than
that one. This is so cool."

When Ty was excited, really exited, he could not stop talking.
He talked all the way to Tallahassee.