Date: Wed, 16 Mar 2011 19:37:28 -0600
From: michaelpete@hushmail.com
Subject: Malcolm 14

Be advised that in the following one will find graphic sexual depiction
between minors and minors and adults. The story is fiction but based on
real characters, events, places and situations. There is no relationship
between the names used and that of any real person.Send comments to
michaelpete@hushmail.com.  Michael Peterson

MALCOLM

CHAPTER 14 -- SPRING 1952, VICTOR CIBELLI

	After five days of Freddy, I was re-energized physically and
spiritually. My grandmother's good food and the warmth and security of my
grandparent's home had contributed greatly to my feeling of well being when
my aunt dropped me off at school Monday morning.
	At recess, Tommy and Pat were hot after my body but the boiler room
door had been repaired and wouldn't open as before. We rushed to the bushes
behind the school. They were unoccupied but damp from the previous night's
rain. Tommy and Pat had to wait until lunch.
	Martin and I joined some baseball card tossers and recouped seven
cards between us to add to the measly eleven we had left after our Easter
Week selling spree.
	Swimming was right after recess. Tommy and Pat slipped their hands
up my trunks and patted my ass underwater.
	Victor Cibelli looked tired. He swam very little, sitting on the
side most of the time, his legs dangling in the water, not up for me to see
his jewels.
	I sat beside him. "Aren't you gonna swim?"
	"Nah, don't feel like it today."
	"How come you look so tired?"
	"Not everybody gets a vacation." He sounded bitter.
	"What happened?"
	"Nothing. Don't worry about it."
	He sat, staring across the pool, obviously not wanting to talk any
more.
	When we dressed, that's all Victor did, got dressed and went back
to class. Even Tommy noticed. We shrugged shoulders at each other.
	Apparently Martin had seen Tommy, Pat and I scurrying around during
recess and asked me, "They doing it too?"
	I gave him a curious look but Pat's remark at their church probably
had tipped Martin off. He grinned and patted my behind.
	Lunch was a physical affair. Pat banged into me harder than he ever
had and got off much too soon to my liking. Tommy was faster than usual
too.
	"Don't you guys ever jerk off?"
	"It's not the same," answered Pat.
	"How was your bung hole-ee-day," asked Tommy laughing at his little
joke.
	"I spent most of it at my grandfather's."
	"And the rest?"
	"At Martin's. We sold a bunch of baseball cards and made some money
and read some books."
	"And?"
	"Tommy, mind your own business."
	Pat feigned fucking and laughed.
	I ate my sandwich.
	Tommy asked, "Whatta ya think's wrong with Victor. It's like he's
all pissed off at everybody."
	I told him of our brief conversation.
	Tommy asked, "Anybody you know ever been to his house?"
	Pat said, "Remember Pete from fifth grade? He went a couple times
but they wouldn't let him in. Victor got all pissed off `cause they
punished him for giving out his address."
	"Peter said it was a great big place with horses and
everything. Mafia money."
	I'd heard bits and pieces of stories about Victor's family being
Mafia. The big black chauffeured Buick that dropped him off and picked him
up added to the rumors. "If his family's Mafia, how come he's not always
flashing around a lot of money."
	There was silence for a moment then Tommy said, "You know, I've
never even seen him buy a candy bar. You guys?"
	Pat and I shook our heads.
	"He can't be poor, unless the guy who drives that car is his
father. Maybe that's it. His father just works for the people where he
lives."
	"Then who pays for him to come here?"
	None of us had answers.
	"Why don't you ask him to your house, Malcolm?"
	"Hey," I said remembering Tommy hadn't yet given me a response to
my invitation. "You ask your mother if you can come this weekend?"
	"Yeh, but, shit, she never answered. I'll ask her again
today. Martin still going Friday?"
	`Uh huh. You think Victor'd want to come too?"
	"I dunno. Ask him."
	Victor Cibelli was a slightly brown skinned boy with a strong body
and jet black hair. He had the longest undeveloped cock in the class. I had
seen it hard a few times in front of the dressing cubicles at the school
swimming pool. There were rumors about him and one Judy Barnes, a slim,
nice looking girl in our sister school's fifth grade. Her father was a
burly plumbing contractor who looked mean enough to twist off the head of
any kid who touched his daughter. That Victor would go after a girl others
were mostly just polite to only contributed to the Mafia stories.
	Tommy Atkins felt Victor would be open to an invitation to stick
his snakelike dong up my rear end but my previous attempts to get close to
him, even to have a short conversation, had been dismal failures. That was
probably due for the most part to my fumbling and ill prepared remarks. I
seemed to get tongue tied and forget everything in his presence.
	He spent most of his time playing ball of some kind and wasn't one
to be found in the little discussion groups that formed all over the plaza
and the green during our free time. Though he seemed gregarious and happy,
I had yet to find someone who knew him well. Add the Mafia rumors and his
seeming lack of funds and Victor Cibelli was one big mystery.
    	I wondered if Martin could be used as an avenue to Victor.
	"Victor Cibelli? You're crazy. He's already fucked Judy Barnes a
bunch of times. He's not gonna wanna do anything with you. And, if you ask,
he'd probably just say something to the others. Anyhow, he ain't never been
to my house. He's gotta house big as yours, bigger. And his father's
Mafia. You've seen that big black car that picks him up each day. The
driver's got a gun. His father'd just have somebody kill you if he heard
about you and sex with Victor."
	Just about the opposite scenario posited by Tommy.
	It didn't sound very promising but he was a boy, just like Martin,
Tommy, Pat and the rest. All the masturbation and stories about him and
Judy Barnes made him at least one of the hornier kids in my class. And that
great snake he had between his legs surely needed all the action it could
get. My hole was certainly as nice as Judy Barnes. And who was going to
tell Victor's father?
	I knew Freddy wouldn't be home from school at his regular time
because my grandfather was taking him to the supermarket near Martin's
house to see about a job as a bagger. I walked to the streetcar turnaround
with two fifth graders who tossed cards. We went into Benson's and shared a
malted. I decided to work out a bit and ran up the hill behind my house,
over the top then back down the street in front of my house. Half the time
I held my duffle bag full of books over my head. I must have been quite a
sight in my navy blue blazer and khakis. After changing, I walked to
Freddy's, still sweating from the run. My grandfather had already been to
the house and left taking Freddy and his birth certificate with him. I
kicked myself for not going straight there from school. But, I didn't have
to wait too long. Freddy came charging happily down the hill half an hour
later.
	"I got a job! Five dollahs a week plus tips. The manager says most
kids take home `bout ten a week from tips. I work Tuesday, Thursday, Friday
fo' ta eight and all day Sataday. Sataday I staht at eleven so I can go ta
Aunt Claire's fo' mah studies and git done at eight. How you like that?' He
called my grandmother Aunt Claire.
	"When are you going to study?"
	"Mondays and Wednesdays aftah school and Sataday mo'nin's. I
know. That just leaves Sundays fo' you and me. But it's sixty dollahs a
month fo' mah mama an' you can work too when they isn't school. Yo
grandaddy talked to the man. Now he's gonna talk to yo' mama. We can work
togethah."
	I was already pining about the lost weekdays. "When do you start?"
	"Thursday."
	"You better go change your clothes then."
	He understood. We were in our sleeping bag in less than twenty
minutes.
	"I wish I could live with you, Freddy," I said between times. I was
also wishing I hadn't talked to that supermarket manager.
	The next morning, I tried to concentrate on the Victor Cibelli
matter. Before classes, I sat on the wall behind where Victor and some
others were throwing around a tennis ball and talking about the upcoming
baseball season. Almost every kid in that group was into baseball
cards. Why not Victor? I decided to come right out and ask him, first
chance I got.
	My father left word with Adelaide that I should start mowing the
lawn. The mower was in front of the barn and full of gas. Tuesday
afternoon, I completed the front, beside the house, the steep hill behind
the house and the patch along the road to the barn. I'd never been
physically capable of pushing the mower up those hills. The strength gained
from my constant exercising made it easy. I felt proud of myself and
expected some recognition of my accomplishment at the dinner table, but
should have known better.
	My cold feet about approaching Victor warmed a bit Wednesday. I
walked along side him as he headed back to the classroom after recess. He
was sweating from running to catch baseballs batted into the far end of the
ball field along side our concrete play area.
	"How come you don't like baseball cards. You really like baseball
and talk about it all the time."
	"I dunno. Why?"
	"Just curious. Everybody you hang with tosses and trades."
	Victor shrugged his shoulders and walked ahead of me.
	I asked Martin about Victor's lack of interest in baseball cards.
	"How am I s'posed to know? He's got plenty a money."
	That was what everybody seemed to think but as Tommy, Pat and I
noticed, he never bought any candy. Everybody bought candy occasionally.
	I asked Martin, "Have you ever seen Victor with money in his
hands?"
	He thought it over. "Unh uh. You?"
	"Uh uh. Not once. I don't remember him ever buying anything. If
he's so rich, why doesn't he buy things from the nuns like us?" The nuns
sold candy and bubble gum, the kind with baseball cards, during recess and
lunch at a little table inside the main door. They told us that the profits
went to the missions.
	"That's right," said Martin, "He brings his lunch in that ugly
black lunchbox and that's all. All he ever eats are sandwiches. Even I get
potato chips or a candy bar sometimes."
	I asked, "You ever seen his house?"
	"No, but somebody said it was real big."
	He couldn't remember who. We decided we'd do a little snooping and
find out more about him. Our reasons were different. Martin felt he'd been
hoodwinked. I wanted to sit on Victor's dick.
	"What if that guy driving the car is actually Victor's father and
just works for the man that owns the big house?" I asked.
	"I'll bet you're right. Shit! He's probably poor as me,
poorer. Shit! That chauffeur's his old man."
	With me on his other side, Martin sat with Victor at lunch time and
asked him who the man was who picked him up each day.
	"The chauffeur," he answered matter-of-factly.
	"So he works for your father?"
	"Yeh, why?"
	"He really carry a gun?"
	Victor smirked. "I don't know. Why're you asking me all this?"
	"It's just that the kids said your father's in the Mafia."
	"Just `cause we're Italian. My father's got a construction
company." He walked off in a huff.
	Martin turned to me. I said, "That still doesn't say why he never
has any money. Let's find out if anybody here ever went to his house."
	We were way too open. By lunch the following day, Victor had heard
and was boiling. He pulled us away from two others and said, "I wanna talk
to you. C'mon." He nudged us up the path toward the grotto stopping in
front of the bushes inside of which he was reputed to have fucked
Judy. "What the fuck are you two asking everybody about where I live and
all? Where I live is none a your business."
	He was right, of course. "I'm sorry, Victor. We just, well, we got
curious."
	"I ever ask anything about you?" he snapped. "No, I never `cause
it's none a my business."
	I wasn't willing to let it go. I just had to know. "It's just that
you never have any money for anything and I was worried..."
	Victor jumped in again. "That's none a your fucking business,
either. You're a real busybody, Malcolm." He stared hard at me but didn't
go. "How come you wanna know about that?"
	That put the ball in my court. I wasn't ready for it and
struggled. "Well, you know, you're our classmate and we're your friends
and, well, I don't know, maybe we could help." It wasn't terribly coherent
but seemed to soothe him a bit. I touched his arm.
	"Well, I don't need anybody's help." His voice wavered.
	Sensing a problem, I stepped closer to him.
	What happened next was completely unexpected. Victor Cibeli sat on
the ground, turned toward the bushes and began sobbing. Martin and I looked
at each other, bewilderment and confusion shared.
	Being the more emotional, I knelt beside Victor and put my hand on
his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
	"What's wrong? Everything's wrong. You got, shit, everything's
wrong." His sobbing was uncontrollable.
	We looked around to see if anyone had a view of what was
happening. The playground was fifty yards away through the trees and bushes
but still in plain view. I motioned Martin to stand between Victor and any
observers.
	For once in my life, I heeded my sense that talking wasn't what to
do at the time. But lunchtime would be over in about fifteen
minutes. Victor had to be calmed down by then. I put my arm around his
shoulders. His pain concerned me. I genuinely wanted to ease whatever made
his so miserable. Gradually the sobbing slowed, his breathing became more
controlled.
	"You guys just don't know what it's like," he said finally. "You
got families, mothers and fathers." His sobbing got worse.
	"But don't you live with your parents?"
	"Shit. But my mother doesn't like me and hates my father and he
hates me. My grandfather calls me my father's sin. Shit, everything."
	It took some probing but by the bell, after repeated promises to
keep his story confidential, we more or less understood the gist of
Victor's problem.
	Victor was the result of a liason between his father and the family
cook's oldest daughter. She'd been sixteen, he thirty-six. The cook wanted
to put him in jail. The grandfather, on whose estate everyone lived,
engineered a compromise. His father would recognize Victor as his son
giving the him a legitimacy of sorts. The boy would be brought up Catholic
there at the estate and educated in private schools through
college. Unfortunately, no one, not even his mother, really wanted him. So,
he just sort of existed in an empty no man's land, in his own room,
alone. His only relief was his time at school and the summer camps he was
sent to for ten weeks every year.
	The reason he didn't buy anything is because they didn't give him
any money. His grandfather had said long ago he was supposed to receive an
allowance but no one had ever given it to him. After some months, he'd quit
asking.
	I didn't understand why his mother at least wasn't his friend but
we had to get back to class. I wiped off Victor's face with my handkerchief
and told him to breathe deeply. I repeated our promise not to tell anyone
what he'd said and that we'd talk again the next day. The chauffeur was
always waiting when the final bell sounded.
	Geography and history weren't what I wanted to think about that
afternoon. I'd read about boys with terrible home lives and heard from the
nuns about street children in Latin America and Asia, especially China in
the late forties. The stories always affected me. I was one of the biggest
givers to the China missions back in second and third grade. I'd
fanaticized many a time what I'd do with a homeless street child, how I'd
take him in and love him like a brother, which, of course, always had us
making love.
	My relationship with my parents wasn't ideal by any stretch of the
imagination, especially with my father. But we did relate. I was cared for,
fed what I liked, dressed in clothes of my choosing, given playthings and a
small daily allowance. Mother was usually willing to listen to most things
I had to say. In short, I had a family, even if it was somewhat
dysfunctional. Victor had much less.
	But there I was at eleven years of age, face to face with something
that tore at my heart. There was no erotic element in my thoughts. Although
he didn't come out and say it, I got the impression Victor was restricted
to the estate whenever he wasn't in school or at camp and had no one to
play with, even talk to.
	By the end of classes, I was determined to do something to relieve
his pain. Martin agreed we ought to try to help but didn't sound as
committed as I felt.
	In bed that night, I found myself again thinking about Victor but
this time with his long dick inside me, his arms around me, mine gripping
him. I wondered if I could convince his mother, or whoever was in charge of
him, to let him spend a weekend with me. I was sure my mother wouldn't
mind. After all, he was white.
 	I got to school forty-five minutes early the next day. Victor was
usually one of the first there. He arrived five minutes after me. He saw me
immediately and nodded my way then appeared to be looking for his regular
gang. He spotted two on the playing field throwing a baseball back and
forth and started their way only to stop at the edge of the playground. He
stood there for a moment, his hands in his pockets, one leg cocked. Slowly
he swiveled and walked toward me. I debated going out onto the playground
to meet him but decided it would be better if we spoke up the path near the
grotto. I waited for him.
	Victor didn't look up until he was only a few feet away. His
expression was a mix of regret, embarrassment and humility. Martin wouldn't
arrive for another twenty-five minutes, so I had to deal with my emotions
as well as Victor's without Martin's steadying presence. I put my arm over
his shoulder and led him up the path. Much as I wanted to talk to him, I
found myself with no idea what to say that wouldn't sound stupid. He seemed
to be having the same problem. I was sure he felt embarrassed about crying
like he did. Victor had always been the tough athletic type. Sobbing didn't
fit his image.
	We stopped behind the grotto of the Virgin Mary. It was somewhat
secluded. That's why boys went there to jerk off or have sex with girls
from the girl's school across the compound. We squatted against the stone
wall.
	With nothing to lead into it, I just went for the gold.
   	"Can you go places on weekends?"
	"Like where?"
	"My house or Martin's"
	"What for?"
	"Whatever you want. We can hang around, go to a movie, go down to
the stream in the woods. We can go downtown and look at the stores, go the
harbor and look at the ships." I'd done most of that.
	"How do you get to the harbor?"
	"A streetcar and walk some."
	He thought about it then asked quietly, humbly, "You guys didn't
say anything about yesterday?"
	"No, I told you we wouldn't."
	"I don't know why I did that."
	"It's okay. You had a lot to cry about. I'd cry everyday if I had
to live like you do."
	Victor looked at me, the first time other than brief glances. "Yeh,
But you're, well, you know, you don't get in fights or play sports. You
know what I mean."
	Did he know I was a homo? Everybody else seemed to know, why not
him? Why not ask? "Not really."
	"I just mean some guys cry easier than others. I just never cried
like that in, well, never."
	I was a little miffed at his inferences so I threw a little
back. "You mean in front of other kids. I'll bet you cried at your house
sometimes. You gotta be real unhappy there by yourself."
	He didn't answer so I knew he did.
	"So you think you can come? Martin and Tommy are coming to my place
after school and spending the night. Well, Martin for sure, Tommy doesn't
have permission yet. You can come just tomorrow if you can't spend the
night. We're gonna have a lot of fun."
	"I can't today. I gotta have permission."
	"Can't you call?"
	"I don't know the phone number and nobody's there anyhow until
tonight. Gotta be next week, if I can. Anyhow, shit, I don't know who to
ask. My grandfather, I suppose but he never wants to talk to me."
	"Can't you just ask your mother?"
	"Nah, she'll just say to ask my father. Somebody's gotta tell the
chauffeur or somebody to take me. There aren't any busses or streetcars out
there. I could walk but I don't know where they are or which one to take."
He explained where he lived. The route to my aunt's farm passed close to
his house.
	He sounded like he was going to cry again. "I can call the transit
department and ask them. Maybe my mother can pick you up. If you wanna
come, I'll find a way for you to get there."
	He wanted my telephone number. I suggested he try to call before
six or the call might not be given to me. He said he would try to talk to
his father over the weekend and he could call my mother but I had to help
him find transportation.
	Martin and Tommy, who had a note of permission from his mother,
walked home with me after a stop at Benson's. We went into the kitchen
where I pulled the phone book out of the alcove beneath the stairs. We
found the Transit Department telephone number and called. There was a bus
route but the train was much closer. For twenty cents each way, he could
ride into the station down the hill from my house. I could meet the train
when it got in at eight ten.
	Tommy and Martin loved my back yard. We changed into play clothes
and tumbled down the steep hill behind the house. I still had to finish
mowing a piece of lawn at the bottom of our property. While I worked Tommy
and Martin ran around me tossing a rubber ball back and forth. After
putting the mower in front of the barn, I challenged them to
exercises. They laughed and kept throwing the ball. They knew I'd embarrass
them.
	Dinner was a somber affair. They both knew my father by
reputation. Mostly we ate. Mother served chocolate pudding with pound cake
layered into it. My father skipped dessert making that portion of the meal
livelier.
	We watched a mystery program on our new Muntz television for an
hour and I read from the Tarzan book. While I was reading, Tommy pushed his
hand under me and fingered my ass, terminating Tarzan before his time.
	They wanted to bathe. I begged them to keep it quiet or my father
might catch us. It was obvious they had conferred and had plans for my
body.
	First, they wanted me to bathe them, which I did quite happily
although neither allowed me to wash between their buns. Then, to my
surprise, they washed me, all of me including my stiff cock. Martin washed
my hole inside and out with his finger. I loved it. Tommy made a face when
Martin pulled his finger out of me and held it up to his nose. Rinsed off,
they sat on opposite sides of the tub and requested blowjobs, a few moments
each, back and forth. The third or fourth time I went to work on Tommy,
Martin again stuck his finger up my ass and whispered in my ear, `Can't
wait any longer. Let's go to bed.'
	We dried off and returned to my bedroom where Adelaide had set up a
folding bed for one of us. It didn't get used.
	I provided Martin oral lubrication. He lay on top of me and found
his way inside. Tommy spread our legs, lifted Martin's balls and watched
for a few minutes. Then he brought his hard tool around for me to work on
with my mouth.
	"Not too much, I wanna try back there tonight. Just don't say
anything to Pat."
	That was ridiculous as I was sure Martin would say something.
	Tommy's cock was growing and had passed the three and a half inch
mark. I wished Martin would hurry up. He took his time, cumming about five
minutes later.
	Martin lay between our legs and, with his head looking up from the
bed, reached in to guide Tommy to my hole. "Okay, now, stick it in."
	Tommy pushed. I felt him glide inside. Martin lay beside us with
his hand on Tommy's rising and falling buns. Tommy hit my prostate time
after time. He pressed in hard at the end of each thrust. I whispered to
him, "Don't you wish you'd tried this sooner?" He bit my shoulder when he
came.
	Martin fucked me again with the light out. Then Tommy tried to
sleep with his cock inside me, as usual, an impossible task. Martin turned
me over during the night and fucked me again, falling asleep on top of
me. He was still inside me as I fell asleep. When I awoke later, he had
slipped to one side but had his leg over mine and his arm around me. I
wondered how Dickie was handling his first night alone. I also thought
about what kind of sex the brothers were having and how receptive Martin
might be to my sticking mine in him. I crawled over and behind him, my cock
immediately poking between his cheeks. I lay still for a moment then,
sensing no resistance, dripped spit on my hand and transferred it to my
cock. I slid inside his cheeks and pumped slowly. I put my upper arm over
him and tugged him close.
	He lifted his head and looked at Tommy fast asleep then put it back
on the pillow. I hugged him. He put his hand over my arm and hugged back. I
pushed further between his cheeks. He slid his rear end back at me. I felt
light headed. This tough athletic muscle boy wanted me to fuck him. I let
go of him for a moment to find his entry. I had to slide down a bit. My
cock head found his pucker. I pressed slowly ahead, feeling the heat of his
insides enveloping me as I pushed forward. I shivered with excitement. This
was better than Jimmy and Georgie. He was tight and hot and so
unexpected. I felt the heat reach my crotch. I waited for my passion to die
down a little then began a very slow fuck. Martin pushed back at me
further. I pumped harder. A quick feel found Martin's hard cock tucked back
inside his doubled over midsection.
	Under the control of my passion, I thrust harder into him until my
orgasm overtook me, shaking me. I masturbated Martin's cock. He
straightened out giving me a better hold of his shaft then shuddered with
his own climax. I pushed my bottom arm under him and hugged tightly. A few
minutes later, he turned over, climbed behind me and nudged me toward
Tommy. He snuggled in behind me, put one arm under my head and the other
around my chest and pulled us together. Shortly, he was asleep.
	I couldn't get my mind to relax. Martin O'Malley let me, encouraged
me to fuck him. So he and Dickie were getting it on in every way. That
explained Dickie sucking me and Martin allowing his little brother fuck
him. Were they like me? They sure didn't act that way. Martin was a top
athlete, tough as they came. Was he like Master Washburn or Counselor
Baldwin? There must be different kinds of people like me. It was something
to discuss with Bobby.
	In the morning after breakfast, we went to the stream. Freddy was
working so he wouldn't know. I didn't show them our hideout or the tree
house. We looked for crawfish under rocks. Tommy thought he saw a snake and
ran up the hill after it. After a while, we lay in the leaves and discussed
girls and Victor Cibelli.
	Without mentioning his breakdown, Martin and I told Tommy the
basics of Victor's lousy, friendless existence. At the end of our
description, Tommy said, `We gotta do something for Victor.'
	"Without getting ourselves killed," added Martin.
	"Think we oughta tell Pat and Bradley?" asked Tommy.
	We agreed that, Monday, the five of us would have a counsel of war
to improve Victor Cibelli's life.
	After lunch, we went to Martin's neighborhood. Freddy knew not to
say anything if I came into the supermarket which, naturally, I did
immediately. He was putting the groceries of a tall woman into several
bags. He carried them one at a time out to her car at the curb, smiling all
the while. She put some coins in his hand. He opened and closed her car
door. When he walked back in, he passed close to me and patted his
pocket. It clinked with money.
	Martin commented, "He's the first nigger I've ever seen in
here. Wonder where he lives?"
	"Looks like a good worker," I said.
	"Sounded like he was making good money," said Tommy with an arm on
my shoulder.
	I bought candy bars for the three of us and we went to Martin's
house.
	His mother said, "Some boy came by asking for Malcolm. He left this
note." She dug into her apron and handed a small sealed envelope to me. I
opened it, holding the written side of the paper away from the prying eyes
of my two friends. It had the drawing of a fish, nothing else.
	Martin saw it and rolled his eyes. Back outside, he told Tommy, "I
think Malcolm has to go somewhere."
	"Where?" asked Tommy.
	"See some kid. I'll see you guys Monday," I answered.
	They headed South, I headed North.
	Bobby was at Fish's playing cards with Kenny, Fish and a slightly
smaller boy I didn't know.
	Kenny said with a smile, "Robert's looking all over for you. He's
having a Malcolm attack. You better find him before his dick falls off or
something."
	Bobby said "shush" and waved a limp wrist. "He'll be here soon
enough. Wanna play? It's just for fun."
	I sat between Fish and Bobby on the sofa.
	Bobby introduced me to the new boy. "This is Jimmy. He's Fish's
nephew. He lives on the Westside."
	He appeared about thirteen but something in his face and nod when
introduced said older. They were playing poker again. Kenny dealt a hand
with me included. I had nothing so drew three cards, all fives, and won
that hand.
	Kenny muttered, "Shit," and threw his cards on the table. I had to
shuffle and deal. I nearly dropped the cards on the floor trying to
shuffle. Fish grabbed the deck, shuffled it expertly, and handed it back. I
dealt without a mishap.
	We had played about a dozen hands when Robert came in.
	"Malcolm! I thought you were going to be earlier."
	"I wasn't sure I was going to be here at all."
	"C'mere, I wanna show you something."
	"Yeh, his dick," said Kenny.
	"Shut up, Kenny," said Robert.
	We went to Fish's well used bed and undressed. "I thought you
weren't coming," said Robert as he peeled off his pants. "I been thinking
about this all week."
	I lubed him up and he pushed inside. After a short time, someone
outside the door said, "Thumpa, thumpa, thumpa."
	"Shut up, you guys," called out Robert after stopping.
	Robert was able to reach his orgasm without any further
interruption. He stayed on top and inside and asked, "Why can't you come
during the week?"
	"I gotta go to school, silly."
	"Your ass is so nice. I've fucked four different kids and you are a
lot better'n any of `em."
	"Thank you, Robert."
	"Okay if I try to do it again?"
	"Okay with me but jerk me off when you get close, okay?"
	"Sure, no problem."
	He started in again, slowly. I was loving it. His plump body was
not what I liked but his cock was an excellent fit and he fucked so
fluidly, his body rising and falling, gently stretching my anus, bobbing
his cock up and down inside me. He very gradually sped up, pushing in
harder. He began to breathe deeply then nearly panted as he grunted between
his teeth and rolled us over onto his back with me on top and him ramming
up into me. He took my erection and masturbated me in time with his thrusts
the force of which were bouncing me into the air. I came. Though he tried,
he didn't, finally giving up a few minutes after I'd stopped his hand from
working my sensitive cock. He was exhausted. He let go, his flabby arms
falling straight out from his body.
	"Shit. I used to be able to get off two, three times easy. I still
wish I could do this every day!" he said between breaths.
	I sat up and revolved around on his cock until I was facing
him. "You can. Bobby doesn't go to school."
	"I mean with you. I don't even want to do it with them any
more. You are so great, Malcolm. Where do you live? Maybe I can come to
your house."
	"Too far away and my parents wouldn't allow it anyway."
	"Well, just don't ever miss a Saturday."
	I'd almost forgotten his remark when we started. "Robert, you said
you fucked four boys. Robert and I make two. Who were the others? I won't
say anything."
	"You better not. One's my cousin lives in Ohio. He comes to visit
during the summer. He acts just like you."
	I waited for the fourth. He didn't look like he wanted to reveal
his name. "I don't know, Malcolm. I better not say the other kid."
	"Do I know him?"
	"I, shit, I promised. I can't."
	Since I'd requested that same promise, I couldn't press any further
but it sounded as though it was someone I knew or he thought I knew.
	Robert dressed. I walked out in my undershirt, interested in Fish's
cousin.
	They had stopped playing cards. I waved to Bobby to come to me.
	Kenny looked back at me and said, "More nooky?"
	Bobby pushed me back into the bedroom.
	"Fish's cousin,' I said. `Does he do it?"
	"Anybody in this house during the day does it, dear. Kenny told him
about you but he's bigger than he looks. If you want, I'll call him."
	"Wait, first, Robert said he's fucked four different kids: you, me,
some cousin from Ohio and another he doesn't want to tell on. You know who
it is?"
	Bobby thought. "I can't think who, unless, nah. I don't know."
	"Who were you thinking?"
	"Don't say anything but I heard a story a year ago about Fish but I
never believed it."
	"What?"
	"That he liked little boys but the only little kid comes around
here is Steven and that other friend of Michael, he was in the poker game
for a while last week, but Fish tries to keep the little ones out and he
has a girl friend, sort of. I think they had a fight. Now, about Jimmy. He
wants to try you out. It's worth your while if he does. Okay?"
	"Okay."
	Robert opened the door and waved. Jimmy was inside in
seconds. Without a word, he started unbuttoning his shirt. His body was
definitely older than thirteen. When his pants went down, I saw pubic
hair. When he stood, I saw five inches of cock.
	Bobby whispered. "If you can't, I'll do it for you. He's fucked me
lots of times."
	He didn't look any thicker than Dickie's arm. "Get some grease," I
asked and climbed up on the bed. Jimmy lay beside me. His balls had hair
too. I saw none under his raised arms. "How old are you?" I asked
	"Fifteen," he answered with a very changed voice. Another Francis,
I thought.
	Bobby produced his little bottle and greased up Jimmy's cock.
	"Why don't you sit on it first," he suggested and ran his oily
finger in my crack.
	I straddled Jimmy, facing him so I could enjoy his well
proportioned body and not look at all that hair. I lifted his cock and put
the head at my anus. If I could get it inside, Jimmy's dong would be the
biggest that had ever entered me. I sat down slowly. I felt my hole
spreading but not much going inside. Then I felt it stretch and knew pain
would be next. I stopped. Bobby took my hand.
	"Don't do it if it hurts too much."
	"Lemme try a little more."
	I raised up and then lowered myself again. It felt like the sides
of his cock were against the bones of my ass. Then I felt him start to slip
inside. It was uncomfortable but didn't hurt too much. I continued down. It
was like Dickie's arm without his wonderful little fingers wiggling around
inside. Jimmy's cock really filled me. He reached my prostate and pressed
against it sending a shot of joy up my stiff dick.
	I reached under to see how much more had to go in. There was a
lot. I leaned forward and back and dropped down some more. I felt him slide
far up inside me. His pubic hairs tickled my ass. I sat on them. All five
inches were in me. I moved back and forth, side to side. I was ready. I
turned around and laid back on him. He put his arms around me, his hands
pressing on my abdomen just above my crotch. He pumped in and out a few
times. He lifted his knees and made longer strokes. It started to hurt
inside, like he was pushing something somewhere it didn't want to go.
	"Wait, let's roll over."
	He obliged and was soon on top of me. He didn't weigh nearly as
much as Robert but had a much greater presence inside. He started fucking
again, gradually making longer strokes. This was fine. There was still
pulling and pushing going on inside me but it felt good. Jimmy fucked me a
good ten minutes before I felt the tension enter his body. Though I tried
to raise up to decrease it, the friction between the bed and my cock as
Jimmy pushed into me brought me to a climax a couple of minutes before
his. He didn't seem to notice. I did. My anus began to hurt each time he
thrust inside. It took a couple more minutes of his big cock ramming into
me before he suddenly gripped my shoulders with his hands. His breath
warmed my ear. His cock bloated. The first pulse stretched me even
further. He stopped deep inside. After a few throbs, he pulled out and
pushed back in again then slowly relaxed.
	"You are tight, kid," he said quietly into my ear then pulled out
and examined his cock. "And clean, too."
	Just before leaving the room, he dropped two quarters on the bed
beside me. "Worth every penny."
	I looked at Bobby who grinned back. "Your first pay job. Congrats."
	"And I think the most sperm I ever had inside me. My next shit's
gonna come out real easy."
	We lay in the bed together. I told him about Martin allowing me to
fuck him the night before and what I'd observed between him and Dickie. "We
had this counselor at the YMCA downtown who liked to suck me and another
boy. And there was this other man at camp that liked to fuck boys. Both of
them acted pretty normal. You couldn't tell by watching them. And if
Martin's that way too, well, you know how he acts. I was thinking there
might be different kinds of homosexuals."
	Bobby said, "That man who fucks me for a dollar, he's like that
too. And you saw that boy with the horse dick. I think we're different from
them, like maybe we should have been girls but something happened and we
came out boys. The school counselor wanted me to go to a psychiatrist so he
could make me normal but..."
	I laughed. "I had some really stupid jerk priest trying to make me
normal and it turned out he was a queer himself. Jesus."
	"How'd you know he was queer? Did he come on to you?"
	"No, but when I said I didn't think he was normal either, he got
all upset. Then I said if he didn't say anything about me, I wouldn't say
anything about him and he quit seeing me. He's a homo."
	"I heard some things about one of the priests at the Catholic
Church up the road. This one boy who's an altar boy said he gave him fifty
cents to suck him right there in the church. The kid quit being an altar
boy." He laughed. "Then, he wants me to do him. So I asked him why he
didn't like the priest doing it and he says the guy talks all the time he's
doing it that it's okay, that it's good for his body and the kid never got
off. Just got a sore cock." He laughed some more. So did I.
	"But two other kids that go to the parochial school there and are
altar boys said he does it to them and they like it but not as much as me."
He patted me on the tummy.
	"You ever see that priest?"
	"No, I don't think so."
	"I wonder how he acts."
	Kenny came in and fucked Bobby. I let Bobby screw me as Kenny came.
	Back at the house, I felt horny for some strange reason. I did
exercises for half an hour then ran in the dark up over the hill and back
down. I still had to jerk off to get to sleep.
	Sunday morning, I went looking for Stewart after Mass and breakfast
but there was no one in his house. He hadn't served that day either.
	Freddy had loads of supermarket bagging stories. He'd only met two
other baggers, both older. "They din't say anything nasty but I don't think
they like a niggah workin' theah."
	He felt he'd gotten along fine with the customers. They tipped him
twelve dollars and sixty cents over his three days, most on
Saturday. "Bunch of `em gave me quarters. I said a lot a `yes ma'am' and
`let me open the do' fo' ya'll ma'am'. They like that."
	He told me how to pack a grocery bag with fragile things on top and
bread and cold things in separate bags. "Some folks don' wanna have ta tip
so they grab theah bags up befo' we can. Doug, that's one a the othahs,
he's good at pickin' `em up quick and startin' outside so they gotta give
him sumthin' but it makes `em mad too so I don't do that."
	Mr. Johnson, he the store manager, had me doin' all kinds a
sweepin' and moppin' but he gave me five dollahs like I was theah all week
so I don't caeh. Long as you work, he's a nice man."
	The more he talked, the more I needed to hold him. But I couldn't
do that sitting in his house. Worse, he'd changed out of his church clothes
and was sitting on the side of his bed in his underwear.
	I think he saw it in my eyes. He stopped talking and said, "Me,
too." Still buttoning his shirt, his shoes untied, we headed out and down
toward our spot. I skipped across the rocks and climbed up to our tree
house, pulled down the duffel bag and dropped it to the ground. Freddy took
it back across the stream and was opening it over some leaves when I ran
back to him. Moments later, we were under the blanket, naked, face to face,
holding each other tightly.
	"I really, really missed you," I said, choking up as I did.
	"Me, too, Maacum. Once a week ain't enough. I almost left early
when you was in the sto' yesterday."
	I kissed his cheek several times. He just squeezed.
	We got nothing done on our hideaway. We made love and talked all
afternoon, not leaving where we were except to take a pee together in the
stream. He told me the difficult side of his new job.
	"That boy Doug, he don't like me fo' shit. Calls me nigger boy when
nobody's close. Mike tole me he told Mr. Johnson he doesn't want to work
with a nigger. Mike's nice ta me but some a the kids came in gave me dirty
looks. Yo' granddaddy said just don't pay any mind but it's hard."
	I knew the racist attitude of many of the kids in the area and
assumed their parents would be the same. I embraced my friend, wishing I
could make it easier for him.
 	We both knew we had to find a way to get together more often,
preferably be able to spend the night together at least once a week.
______________________________
	Monday morning, I again arrived early to meet with Victor. After
waiting for his driver to leave, he shrugged his shoulders and joined
me. As we walked, he told me, "Nobody would let me use the phone. Nobody
would even let me ask if I could go. I don't think I'll be able."
	"I gotta clean out the barn and the stables so they'll be nice for
all the assholes who'll be coming to ride with my grandfather and
father. Sucks."
	He'd worked on that barn the entire Easter holiday. It was why he
was so worn out Easter Monday.
	We sat by the side of the grotto, out of sight of both schools.
"The worst part of Easter Week was watching all those cars full of people
going places. Lots of them had kids going somewhere with their parents to
have fun. I was thinking about running away but where'd I go. Anyway, he'd
find me, if he wanted."

"You think he wouldn't even look?"

"I dunno. They probably wouldn't even know I was gone if the driver didn't
say anything or Albert, he's the nigger works in the stables."

I rested my head on my raised knees. "Why can't we have fathers like Martin
and the others?"

"I heard what your father did to you, a bunch a times. He sounds like a
piece a shit too. Had you seeing Father Simons, right?"

"Who told you that?" There should have been only a few kids who knew about
it

"I don't remember but lots a kids know. He asked a bunch of them if they
were your friend. Everybody said yes, that fuck. What was he supposed to be
doing with you? Didn't try to suck your dick or anything did he?"

I smiled. "How come you think he'd do that?"

"Well, he is a fag, isn't he?"

That made me laugh. "I don't know." I had to keep my promise.

"So what was he talking to you about all that time?"

"Saving my soul, making me normal." I was curious how he'd react to that.

"How's he gonna make you normal if he isn't normal?"

I leaned into him for a moment.

We talked about the problems in both our homes. He tried to equate them but
his life was much worse than mine. Even the camp he went to was
military. They did a lot of marching and he had to obey stupid orders from
kids sometimes younger than he was. I hoped my friends and I could find a
way to help him.

The rising sound of boy voices on the plaza told us the bell would soon be
ringing so we headed back where we joined Pat and Bradley. Tommy and Martin
had gone upstairs with the nun. The bell rang, we formed our lines and went
to class.

At recess, we let Victor go out ahead of us in hopes he'd play ball with
some others. We went off behind the school for our little council of war. I
told them what I'd learned of his life that morning.

Bradley was the only one with a viable idea. His uncle was an architect and
would probably know Victor's father or grandfather or both. He'd talk to
him. Perhaps through him, we'd be able to have Victor over to our houses on
weekends at least. We might even be able to help him avoid the military
camp.

Martin came home with me after school. We raced each other up the steep
hill behind my house then rolled backward down it. Well, I cheated and
rolled on my side. Then, to my surprise, he wanted to hear more of the
Tarzan book I'd been reading to him and his brother. I thought it might be
a prelude to sex but he actually was interested in the story. We sat side
by side against the sideboard of my bed while I read Chapter Five. When I
finished, he went home. Sitting beside him all that time got me horny. I
had to jerk off before dinner to enjoy my food, and then jerk off before
bedtime to go to sleep.

I met Victor early again the next morning. We compared notes and talked
about how we'd raise our own kids. He alluded to the possibility that I
might not have any but that it was sad because I'd be a good father knowing
all I did about what not to do.

At recess, Bradley told us his uncle only knew of the Cibelli's but didn't
know them personally. He'd see who did. Tommy and Pat quietly suggested we
eat lunch together. Tommy only had me suck him while Pat banged me. I
didn't understand why he didn't want his friend of six years not to know
he'd done it too.

After school, with nothing else to do, I suggested to Martin we try the
route I wanted to use to get to a job at the supermarket if I ever got
one. I paid for the streetcar. We got off a few minutes out from the
turnaround and walked a long steep hill up to the boulevard that passed in
front of the supermarket some eight blocks in towards town. It took us
thirty minutes to get there as opposed to an hour on the streetcar and
trolley. One of the main reasons I made the trip was to see Freddy. He was
sweeping in front of and between the registers. He ran the broom over my
shoe and said, `Oops, sorry sir,' and continued on. After dropping off his
books, Martin tagged along while I looked for Bobby. He wasn't at home, at
Fish's or in any of the alleys when kids congregated. Robert was in one and
was very disappointed we couldn't go somewhere.

I walked all the way home. It took about an hour.

After dinner, I told my mother my hopes for a summer job at the
supermarket.

"I know, dear, your grandfather mentioned it to me. The problem is where
you'd stay when we go away. You know your father isn't going to allow you
to stay with my father."

"That's stupid."

"Don't talk like that, dear, he's just thinking of you."

"If I have a place with somebody white, can I?"

"Well, I don't know. I suppose it would depend on who. Another problem is
you're already signed up for Camp McFarlane. Your father has paid the
registration fee."

"But I can make money and it won't cost him anything."

"Dear, money isn't the issue. He doesn't mind spending money on you."

"Yeah, so I won't be around. I don't know why he just doesn't let me live
someplace else."

That was the end to the civil part of the conversation. Mother was hurt
that I didn't want to be with her.

I had a difficult time doing my homework. Even doing exercises between
subjects couldn't get my mind off Freddy. My situation was ridiculous. My
father forced me live with him during the school year but wanted to get rid
of me during vacation. Why couldn't he just let me live where I wanted? I
tried to jerk off, going so far as getting some of my mother's Vaseline but
I could barely keep my dick hard. I didn't sleep much that night. I decided
to go to the supermarket the next day so we could at least see each other
then realized it was Wednesday and he would be with my grandmother
studying.

Victor seemed happy to see me in the morning. I was still a bit blue.

I asked him, "What are you so happy about?"

He tossed his arm over my shoulder and said, "Nothing. You ever try playing
baseball."

"Yeah. I wasn't very good."

"C'mon, I'll teach you."

"Victor, I don't really want to. The others will just make fun of me."

"We'll go somewhere alone, like up behind the gym."

As we walked, I asked him if he was having any luck getting permission to
come with one of us for a weekend.

"I told my grandfather. He said he'd see but I don't think he even heard
what I said. That fuck. I was thinking I might just do it one
Saturday. They probably wouldn't know I was gone if I could get away
without anybody seeing me."

"Maybe, but you better be careful."

"Would you loan me the money for the train if I did?"

"Of course, I'd give it to you. You know how to get to the station?"

"I think so. I figure it'll take about half an hour walking, maybe
less. You gotta be sure what time the train comes."

"It's seven forty-four like I said. And you go back at five ten in the
afternoon. I can meet you at the station. Why don't you try and talk to
your father or somebody first?"

"It'll just be the same shit. He'll say go talk to your grandfather. My
grandfather won't listen. They don't want me around."

"Yeah, I've got the same problem. So why don't they just let us live
someplace else."

"Exactly, except I don't have anyplace else. You've got your grandfather."

We arrived at an open mound of grassy lawn behind the gym and pool. Victor
had a rubber baseball in his bag that we threw around. I immediately
thought of Georgie at camp and his partially successful struggle to teach
me how to throw and catch. Victor was actually better. He seemed to know
more about technique. He taught me how to keep my eye on the ball until it
was in my hands. It worked. I used to close my eyes at the last minute. He
promised to work on my throwing the next day.

Bradley hadn't any news of a contact with Victor's family. I told the
others of Victor's plan to just go without permission in the hopes that no
one would notice.

Tommy asked, "What about the people who feed him? They'll know he didn't
come to eat."

	Bradley suggested, "He can ask to eat early and get a bagged lunch
and tell them he was going to eat later out in the pasture or somewhere."

	"Maybe. Tell him, Malcolm," said Tommy.

	Sister Bernice tried to teach us a little algebra, the next year's
math. None of us understood a word she was saying. Francis started to laugh
and couldn't control himself. Those of us who knew his nickname for the
nun, Sister Mary What I Mean To Say, began to laugh with him. She became so
frustrated there were tears in her eyes. Herbert Reisin, my jerky academic
opponent for top student, went in the hall with her and calmed her
down. Tommy berated the class for their behavior but when Francis asked,
`What you mean to say is that we're mean to Sister Mary What I mean To
Say', even he broke up. The eighth grade nun, a tall stern woman with
steely gray eyes, came in and did what Tommy couldn't, scared the crap out
of us.

	Thursday morning, Victor worked on my throwing, making the same
remark as Georgie, "You're throwing like a girl". I improved.

	At recess, he dragged me into his baseball game, defending me when
I screwed up.

	I took the bus home with Martin. The driver commented I was using
it too much and needed a note from the principal next time. Martin went to
his house. My first stop was the supermarket. I walked in and browsed the
aisles from which I could see Freddy. He glanced at me a number of times
and grinned.

I eventually bought a bag of corn chips and a Coke, paying for it with the
cashier where he was bagging. He put my things in a small bag and held out
his hand for a tip. I gave him a nickel. I wanted desperately to hug him
but walked out and down to Martin's.

Dickie was thrilled to see me and jumped up forcing me to catch and hold
him. "You coming Friday?"

"Maybe."

"It's our turn. Martin was at your house last week so you gotta come here
this time." He humped into my tummy and grinned seductively.

I put him down and looked about hoping no one had seen him do it. Martin
was doing his homework so he could watch a TV show he liked that
evening. He asked for my help with fractions. He had a terrible time adding
and subtracting them. I'd explained it the lowest common denominator
concept to him before but it hadn't taken. We lay side by side on his
bedroom floor carpet. I tried some very simple examples then had him do
some. Gradually, he seemed to grasp it. I told him we'd go over it again
before class in the morning. He kissed me on the cheek. I looked at him. He
acted embarrassed. I put my arm over him and pulled him close to me. He
kept his eyes on his notebook. I kissed his temple and told him I'd see him
in the morning. His ears were a bright red.

I stood convinced he was like me but in some different way. I stopped at
the door and asked, "Want me to come over tomorrow night?"

He rolled over and looked at me, "If you want, sure. You coming?"

"I'll ask my mother but probably."

My dick led me out the door.

Bobby was no where to be found. Spike said he was "with some guy", then
asked, "Wanna toss just you and me, friendly, just for fun."

We went into an alley and tossed against a garage door. He only spoke of
what we were doing but I sensed there was something on his mind.

"I'm gonna be here Saturday," I told him, "but if you got someplace we can
go now, that's okay with me."

He sat on the concrete. "Only place I know is the garage where, you know."

"Let's go."

We had to wait for two little kids on bicycles to ride through the alley
before squeezing our way through the broken door.

I went for his belt.

He allowed it but seemed stiff, uncomfortable.

I opened his pants and pulled them down to his ankles. He was as stiff as
cucumber.

He said, "Too bad there ain't a place to lie down but it's too dirty in
here."

"It's okay." He stiffened even more when I closed my mouth on his penis. I
heard him take in a breath then let it out slowly. His cock tasted
delicious, slightly unwashed, a bit salty. My hands explored his back, buns
and thighs then between them up to his balls. He fingers touched my hair
lightly as I went up, down and around on his nearly four inches of hard
flesh. I had to adjust my cock from where it was about to break in half
from being bent over inside my pants.

I released his penis and sucked in his balls, rolling them around in
mouth. His legs were too tightly together to go in any further. His ass
muscles flexed when I took his cock back in. I worked slowly to prolong his
pleasure, sucking softly, licking up the bottom of his shaft. He began
short thrusts into my mouth, gradually holding my head tighter between his
hands until he was fucking my face. His leg muscles became as hard as his
cock. I felt it grow then fire off his sweet liquid that I shuttled into
the front of my mouth so I could enjoy its taste longer.

We stayed motionless until his cock was calm. He leaned over and said,
"That was neat, Malcolm. Really felt, you know."

I stood and embraced him. He allowed it but pulled back.

"I, a, gotta go, Malcolm. See you Saturday, okay?"

He was out of sight when I pushed out through the broken door. I savored
his cum as I walked down the alley, not swallowing until I reached the
boulevard around the corner.

I stopped by the supermarket for a last look at Freddy. He was packing a
large order for a woman with three small children pulling on her.

I walked home. The hour passed by timelessly. My mind was on Freddy and
thoughts about how we could get together during the week. I wondered what
Bobby's mother thought of Negroes. Was it possible the two of us could
spend some nights there?

Friday morning, Victor again worked on my throwing then again dragged me
into a game on the field during recess. I hadn't improved much but he was
encouraging and put a brake on remarks by others.

Tommy and Pat had their way with me during lunch.

"Who fucks you better," asked Pat, "me or Martin?"

"Martin who?"

I took the streetcar to the bottom of the hill up to Martin's section of
town then walked to the top and down to the supermarket to see Freddy. Our
looks at each other were of yearning. There was no happiness in either of
us.

Martin was waiting outside when I walked out.

As we walked to his house, he said, "That colored kid working in the
supermarket's named Freddy. Isn't that the name of your friend?"

"Uh huh. So what?"

"Well, a few weeks ago you were asking Mike about jobs there then this old
guy brings in Freddy and he starts working there. He's your friend, ain't
he?"

I stopped. "So?" It wasn't a challenge but more of a plea for
understanding.

"I just, well, you shoulda said, at least to me. I wasn't gonna say
nothing."

Martin was hurt. "I'm sorry. I just didn't know what you'd think and I
didn't want you and me fighting over anything. I'm sorry."

He frowned. "You like him a lot?"

"Uh huh. But I like you a lot too. Are you mad?"

"A little. Do you do stuff with him too?"

"Uh huh."

"You ever sleep at his house?"

"Yes."

"Do you, a, shit."

I took his arm. He let me but pulled away ineffectually. "What?" I asked.

"C'mon. Let's go home."

I held him back and said what I felt he needed to hear but wasn't sure was
true. "Martin, I love you too."

He looked at me with an expression that could have been anger or
angst. Either way, it didn't augur for a pleasant evening.

We walked to his house in silence. Dickie caught his brother's sour mood as
he walked in the door and stopped running toward me. He looked at me for an
explanation. I frowned.  Martin went up to his room.  I followed a few feet
behind him. We changed out of our uniforms with Dickie leaning against the
door frame, a worried expression on his face.  When Martin was in his
underwear, I leaned over and kissed his knee. He stopped dressing and
stretched out his legs, looking at his toes.

I sat beside him. "I'm sorry. From now on, I'll tell you everything. No
secrets about anything. I promise."

He frowned. "You gonna help me do my homework?"

"Wanna do it now?"

"Dickie, go play someplace. We gotta do homework. Don't bother us for a
hour."

He reached for his book bag and watched Dickie close the door behind
him. Martin looked at me and asked, "Do you and Freddy kiss?"

"He doesn't like that."

Martin dropped his book bag, took me in his arms and pulled us both down on
the bed. For a few seconds, he looked from my eyes to my lips. Then he
pulled me to him and kissed me open mouthed, his hand tugging on the back
of my head. He opened and closed his mouth on mine. I pushed my tongue
across to his. He copied me, obviously unsure what to do. I rolled on top
of him and turned my head from one side to the other, running my hands
through his hair, down over his ears and shoulders. He wrapped his arms
around my head. His eyes were closed. My mind grappled with the
significance of all this. Martin loved me and was upset that I cared for
someone else. My life had just become very complicated. But the kissing was
very nice.

Martin's hands pushed my briefs downward. I rose up and let him then pulled
his down as he lifted his hips. I had no idea what he wanted to do next,
just hoped no one would come through his bedroom door. We both kicked off
our underpants. He opened his eyes, stared into mine, kissed me several
times about the mouth then struggled around into a sixty-nine position, me
still on top, taking in my cock before I could get to his. He wrapped his
tongue around it then moved it about in his mouth. I followed suit then
began sucking up and down his shaft. It quickly became apparent he was
ready to cum. I opened my mouth and moved my lips to his balls. He did the
same but quickly returned to my penis. I sucked on his balls and ran my lip
over his perineum. He opened up his legs to let me go further.

I let go of his testicles and worked my mouth down the hard lump between
his legs to the edge of his pucker. His knees came up. I went to his
hole. There were tiny hard particles of shit that I flicked away with my
tongue before pushing the tip into his pliant pucker. I had pulled far
enough down that my dick was out of Martin's mouth. He gripped me with his
hands and arms and ran his mouth all over my balls and between my legs. I
wasn't sure if I should pull my knees forward to make my ass available to
him. He grabbed my ass cheeks and squeezed them closed while sucking on my
perineum at the same time pulling his own legs higher. I pushed my tongue
inside him, going for maximum depth. He let go of me and grabbed his own
buns, pulling them apart. I pushed until it hurt. Without warning, his legs
went down flat on the bed and he struggled to turn over. At first, I
thought he was giving me better access to his ass but he pulled on my
arm. He wanted to turn me around so I could fuck him. I added my saliva to
his and felt for his hole, found it and pushed in. The initial rush from
the wet heat took my breath away. I gripped his shoulders and began to fuck
slowly but hard, going as deep as I could with each thrust. My passion
rose. I slowed and breathed deeply.

"I love you, Martin," I said into his ear.

"I love you too," he replied. "Keep doing it."

"I gotta wait a minute or I'll cum too soon."

We waited then I started in again, thrusting slowly, pulling out to my tip
then pushing back into him. Was I hitting his prostate? I didn't think I
was long enough. I rammed in hard as I could going for his sweet spot. A
dozen thrusts later, I couldn't stop. My whole body tensed as I throbbed
inside him.

When I was spent, I asked quietly, "Wanna fuck me or I can suck you."

"Suck me but like before."

I pulled out slowly. He turned over. I turned around and lay on top of
him. He pushed his mouth under my cock to my balls and took them in. I slid
my lips down his shaft. He stiffened. A few times up and down and he
bloated. He clamped down on my balls and came with strong, fast pulses.

I stayed on him for a while. He opened his mouth and dropped his head back
onto the bed. We were both exhausted. I turned around and lay tight against
him with my arm over his chest.

"Go wash your mouth out with toothpaste. I'll wait."

I got up but realized it was the middle of the afternoon. Anyone could be
in the hall. I pulled on my play pants and peeked out the door. There was
no one. I darted across, squeezed a little Colgate out of the open tube and
swirled it around my mouth for a while. I added a little water and slushed
it about some more. After two rinses, I ran back to the bedroom and closed
the door. Martin's arms were in the air, waiting for me. I dropped my pants
and fell on top of him. He sniffed my mouth, found it acceptable and kissed
for a few minutes, better than first time.

"We better start doing my homework," said Martin.

As he wrote and I helped, I worried over how he felt about Freddy. The
temptation to ask or say something stayed with me even after Dickie came
into the room and insisted on doing his homework with us. The six year old
lay against me, even partially on top of me at one point. That made me
worry over any jealousy Dickie's feelings for me might evoke from his
brother.

I'd always been concerned about Freddy's jealousy concerning all the white
boys I was seeing but there'd usually been a distance between him and my
other sex partners. The few times he had met them, as in the case of Philip
and Louis, there hadn't appeared to be a problem. But now, I had another
boy actually in love with me and he not only knew Freddy, he was in a
position to cause a great deal of trouble for him, and me, for that
matter. Freddy's love for me, as mine for him, was far too strong and deep
set to allow any thought of causing pain for any reason. But Martin was
possibly a different matter. I got the impression his love for me had grown
over a period of time. How long, I didn't know. It was obviously partly
based on our mutual sexual interests. How much beyond the physical, I
didn't know. We were different in many ways. Martin was an athlete, a
sports fan, very much into boyish activities. He knew the names of all the
local pro baseball team's players and great numbers of other teams so it
wasn't just a put on. I'd seen his passion in discussions with others in
our class. He'd always been a member of the class' most popular group
hanging since second grade with Tommy, Pat and the others. He had a nice
mother and father though I hadn't seen much father-son interaction beyond
the occasional playfulness of his father. They didn't do much together
outside the home. But they all seemed so normal. Father Simons, no one,
would ever guess Martin would be interested in doing what he had just done
with me on top of the bed. I sure didn't.

I stared at Martin. Dickie was seated beside me leaning against my back,
softly reading words out of a `See Spot Run' type of first grade
reader. His parents couldn't afford two in my school so Dickie went to the
parochial school at the church they attended. Did Martin want exclusivity
with me? How did he feel about Bobby and the rest at Fish's house? What
would he think or do if I could arrange for Freddy to spend the night with
me at someone's house in the area?

After a pleasant dinner, I read Chapter six of the Tarzan book with Martin
and Dickie pressed against opposite shoulders. We played checkers while
waiting for the girls to bathe. It was interesting that bathing is all we
did that evening in the tub. Even Dickie seemed to sense something in his
brother that precluded sex play. I wondered what would happen in bed. It
was hard to believe the horny six year old could resist the urges I knew
were boiling in him.

He insisted on sleeping beside me rather that at the foot of the bed.

Once the light was out, Martin turned me to face him, kissed me a few times
and said, "You better suck Dickie or he'll be trying to fuck us both all
night."

I kissed him and whispered. "I'll have my back to you so you can do
anything you want to me."

"Maybe later," he said and rolled over on his back.

I turned to Dickie who said, "Wait," then did a quick switch to a
sixty-nine position. We sucked each other off then fell asleep that way.

I awakened once during the night. Martin was pressed against me with his
arm over me and his brother. They were both asleep. Probably because it was
so close, I took Dickie's limp cock into my mouth. It hardened quickly but
he didn't move.

The next thing I remember, it was daylight. Dickie had my cock in his mouth
and Martin was lazily humping between my buns from behind. Dickie's leg was
over the side of my face, his hard cock at my nose. I wanted to turn over
to face Martin but couldn't move. Dickie's arm was over my hip holding onto
his brother's butt, pulling him tight against me. I accepted my situation
and took Dickie's magic wand into my mouth. Martin wet his cock and pushed
inside me. We moved like a dance team inside a single straight jacket. It
was very magical, very comfortable, relaxed. Dickie came first, then me,
then Martin. Martin pulled loose first, stretched and walked naked to the
bathroom. I looked quickly for their alarm clock. A quarter to seven. It
was Saturday. The girls wouldn't be up until seven thirty at the earliest.

"Let's go to the bathroom," I told Dickie.

I rolled over and stood up. Dickie climbed on my back, his hard little
prick poking my spine. I carried him across the hall. Martin smiled at the
two of us. At least there was no jealousy regarding his brother.

At ten o'clock, Martin and I were seeking tossers in the alleys. Spike's
group, less Spike, was behind the supermarket but, after I took six of
their cards, decided they had to other things to do. No one else was around
so we went off to the woods and explored. Martin was looking for a tree big
enough to hold a house like Tarzan lived in. There was a great oak behind
the private school well to the far side but with no way to get up to the
lowest branches. We sat at its base. He brought up Freddy.

"How long have you known Freddy?"

"Since we were six."

He paused then asked, "You always do things with him?"

"You mean sex?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Yes, but just like us, we did lots of other things too, well, actually you
and me do more. Coloreds can't go a lot of places and he goes to a
different school.'

Again, he paused. "And you still do things?"

I said, "You don't have to be jealous of Freddy, I love you too."

"Tsk, I'm not jealous."

I put my arm around him. "Yes you are." I grinned at him. "That's why you
got mad at me yesterday."

"All right, maybe a little but you shoulda told me."

"I know and I'm sorry I didn't. No more secrets. I promise. You still love
me?"

He looked around then kissed me softly on the lips.

I pushed the envelope. "You wanna go to Fish's this afternoon?"

Silence. "How come you let all of them fuck you?"

"Because it feels so good."

"You're lucky you don't live around here. If I did any of that, everybody
would talk about me and my parents would hear and I'd be in big trouble."

"Does everybody talk about Bobby?"

"He's different. Everybody knows about him. His mother was a whore so she
doesn't care."

"IŽll bet if you did it with just a few kids you trusted like Bobby nobody
would say anything."

"I just wanna do it with you and Dickie."

I hugged and kissed him. "Do you get mad when I do it with the others?"

"A little."

"I know someone who'd like to do it with you and would never say anything."

"Who," he asked feigning disinterest.

"Steven. Bobby tells me he never talks about it away from Fish's house."

"Nah. He'd say something to Kenny and Fish and they'd tell
everybody. Anyhow, they'd see us."

"Then don't do it there. Let him stay at your house one night, or come out
here."

"Here, no. Bobby got caught out here with a kid a couple years ago and
everybody knew about it."

"Then at your house. You could even do it in your bedroom in the
afternoon. Everybody in your house always knocks first."

He sat in silence again. I hoped he'd do it. Steven was a cute kid with a
great little body and a passion for sex. If Martin did it with him, he'd
have less grounds for jealousy of Freddy and me.

We went to Fish's house after lunch. Dickie was distraught when his mother
again refused to let him go with us.

Fish was the only one at home. He was wandering around in his pajamas. From
the condition of his eyes, I guessed he'd only been out of bed briefly. He
said, "Come on in" and walked away from the open door. A stale smell
pervaded the house.

Martin said, "Beer. They were drinking here last night."

"Who?"

"All of them. Fish, Kenny, Bobby, all of them."

"Bobby?"

"Sure, even Steven probably. When Fish's mother works late, they all get
drunk and sleep in Fish's bedroom with the door locked."

"Can't his mother tell from the smell?"

"Sure but she drinks too. Most of the people around here get drunk. My
father gets really blasted sometimes."

"Do you?"

"No, I hate the taste of beer. I don't know how they can drink that shit."

There was a knock at the door.

Fish called out from the kitchen, "Answer it!"

It was Bobby. He looked terrible.

I asked, "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, I went out with this guy last night. He wanted to fuck all night. Had
me whiffing some crap. God, it was awful. Gimme a kiss."

I kissed him.

"You too," he said to Martin.

Martin grinned and gave him a quickie on the side of his mouth.

"I gotta go lie down. My mother's cleaning the house and yelling at me
about something. I gotta lie down." He went into Fish's bedroom and fell on
the bed face down, leaving the door opened.

I followed him in, pulled off his shoes and pushed his legs on the bed.

He said, "Thanks".

I closed the door as I left.

Fish asked who it was. I told him. He went into the bedroom and closed the
door. He was still in there when Kenny arrived. He looked chipper.

"So who's here?"

"Fish and Bobby but they're in the bedroom."

He pursed his lips and looked at the bedroom door. "How long they been in
there?"

"About ten minutes."

He looked at his watch then sat on the beat up sofa. "Anybody seen the
cards?"

I looked around and spotted a deck on top of a stack of magazines against
the wall. Kenny wanted to play solitaire. Martin and I watched him. Every
so often, Kenny looked at his watch. At the end of his third game, he stood
and said, "That's enough time." He walked to the door, knocked and said,
"It's me. You guys finished?"

From inside Fish answered, "No".

"How much longer?"

"A few minutes."

Martin muttered. "See what happens when everybody knows."

Kenny played two more games of solitaire then knocked again. "C'mon. My
cock's gonna explode."

"Just wait a minute!"

I figured Kenny's interruptions were making Fish take longer.

"Shit." He played one more game. "Nobody takes this long to get off."

He walked to and into the bedroom. Fish was planted on top of Bobby who
could well have been asleep. Both had their pants at half mast. Fish was
pumping furiously. "Christ, you guys, what's taking so long?"

"Shit, Kenny, go away and let me finish!"

Kenny shook his head and left the room, leaving the door open. I got up and
closed it, but got a hard on looking at the scene before I did.

Fish came out a few minutes later, his damp semi inflated cock hanging out
of his unclosed pants. "Shit, Kenny, take it easy. He's all yours," and
headed into the bathroom.

Bobby was lying on the bed in the same position he'd been in under Fish,
his pants at his knees. I could see the shine between his buns where Fish's
greasy cock had been. Kenny was undoing his pants as he closed the door.

I said, "Poor Bobby".

Martin said, "You see what I mean? It's like anybody who wants to can fuck
him whenever they want. And you heard him. He's already been fucked all
last night prob'ly by some man. His ass' gotta hurt something terrible."

"So how come he doesn't tell them they can't do it. I tell kids when
they're too big or I just don't wanna and don't let them."

"If Bobby said no to these guys, they'd just do it anyhow. They're bigger
and he let `em do it before. What's he gonna do?" Martin seemed to accept
it as a natural state of affairs.

He went on, "They get used to fucking you and it'll be the same for you."

"No it won't."

"Then you better not come around here when they're drinking."

That was chilling.

We played Fish. I let Martin win.

Kenny was out in ten minutes. Martin and I went in to see how Bobby was. He
was unconscious. I shook him.

"Bobby, Bobby." He didn't respond. I put my ear to his chest. His heart was
beating slowly.

I rushed out to Kenny. "What's wrong with Bobby?"

"Some drug he took last night I guess. He'll be okay later."

I found Fish in the kitchen eating fried eggs on toast. "What's wrong with
Bobby."

"I don't know, he just passed out while we were doing it. Prob'ly took some
shit to sleep."

"He ever do this before?"

"Sure, all the time. Don't worry. He'll wake up later."

I went back into the bedroom. Martin was lying on the bed talking into
Bobby's face. "You okay?"

Bobby's arm rose lazily and flopped over Martin. He nodded affirmatively. I
was overcome by a protective feeling toward Bobby. He was barely thirteen
and on some kind of drug. That had to stop. I debated with myself whether
to let him sleep it off or force him up and get him out of there. My
feelings for Fish and Kenny turned to ice. How could they have fucked him
like this? I lay on the opposite side of him from Martin and hugged him to
me. Martin looked less concerned about Bobby than about me.

"You see," he said, "I don't ever want you to be like this."

I reached across to him. `Don't worry. I don't ever want to do drugs.'

The two of us pulled Bobby's pants back up.

Four more boys including Robert came into the house. Robert was all for
doing me right there beside Bobby and Martin. I gave him my dirtiest look
and said "No way."

The others sat down to play cards with Kenny and Fish. I got up and closed
the door. Robert knocked once but I again refused in no uncertain terms.

Martin told me about other teens he'd known who used booze or pills to get
high. One neighbor had died in a car wreck with another drunk friend at the
wheel. We dozed for a while then bemoaned the condition of Fish's house.

"You oughta see this one old lady's house," said Martin. "She's got these
cats that shit and piss all over the place. She never cleans it up, just
opens the windows to let out the smell. They had the city over to her house
a bunch of times but they never do nothing."

The sun was shining directly against the pulled window shade when Bobby
awoke. He hugged me for a while then sat up. "What time is it?"

"Around four," I answered.

"Oh, hi, Martin." He put his arm over Martin's shoulder.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm fine. That was some nasty shit last night."

"You gotta stop doing that. It'll ruin your brain."

"I know. I know. You think Fish has anything to eat?"

Fish fixed him some eggs and toast.

Robert and two of the others expected to fuck me. I was very tempted. One,
about thirteen that I'd never seen before was quite good looking but I was
too worried about Bobby. I realized I'd grown very attached to him as a
friend more than erotically though eroticism was at the basis of our
friendship.

"Bobby whispered in my ear, if you don't, IŽll have to. Wanna share?"

"Why don't you just come with us?"

"And disappoint all these nice cocks?"

"Yes. Come on with us."

"Maybe later."

"If I let them all do me, will you come after we're done?" It wasn't an
entirely unselfish request.

Martin looked at me like I had lost my bearings.

Bobby thought and said, "Let me have the one in the blue."

Martin yanked me up. "C'mon, we gotta go!"

Very reluctantly, I went. The one in the blue was the pretty boy.

Outside, Martin said, "Shit, Malcolm, don't be like him. Look at
him. Please. Don't ever be like him. What about me, and Freddy?"

That pulled me back to ground. "Can I stay at your house again tonight?"

"Sure. We can call your mother and tell her. Wanna stop by the
supermarket?"

Freddy saw me immediately but pretended he didn't. Martin nodded at him
with half a smile. I could have kissed him on the spot. I bought corn chips
and Cokes and went to Freddy's register. I gave him a quarter, my last,
when he bagged our things.

With permission, I stayed with Martin and Dickie. They pushed Dickie's arm
up my ass again in the tub. It went in easier this time.

Lying in bed with Martin's dick inside me, Dickie's crotch in my mouth and
both of them wrapped around me and asleep, I thought about the good looking
boy in the blue shirt at Fish's and all the other good looking boys who
wanted and would want to get sucked or fuck me and how great it felt as
their passions rose and they held and tugged and pumped then shared their
bodily juices with me. Oh, how I craved them. But, then, I had these two
who, as opposed to the boys at Fish's, really cared for me, loved me. It
felt truly wonderful, and safe, with these two on me and in me. Why did I
want those others so badly? Why couldn't I just be satisfied with the
friends I had? There were so many who cared for me, protected me, helped
me.

There was one very great difference between my friends and the others: most
of them were still fairly small between the legs though all but Dickie were
growing and would be a lot bigger over the next year or so. Why not wait?
Why did I want so many? I had Freddy, of course, Martin and Dickie, Tommy
and Pat, Stewart sometimes, Francis occasionally, someday soon Victor. That
was eight different boys. Why did I need the rest? Why the constant craving
for new ones?

Ah, that was it. New ones. New conquests. New cocks. New styles of doing
it. Jesus! What did I need that for? Bobby was getting it and he was a
mess, beer and drugs and boys fucking him when he was unconscious, boys
fucking him whether he wanted it or not, expecting his services whether he
was up to it or worn out. If he was dying, they'd probably rush in to get
that one last screw before he was cold.

I hugged Dickie. He stirred, sucked twice on my cock and gripped my waist
before breathing heavily through his nose again. This was amazing,
wonderfully amazing. What idiot would risk losing this for quick, virtually
anonymous sex that was over in less than ten minutes and meant nothing more
than brief physical satisfaction to the serviced boys?

In the morning, Dickie awakened first and began pumping his cock into my
open mouth, stirring me to consciousness. His hand pulled my head tight
against his groin. He looked at me and nodded. I sucked him to
fruition. Martin pushed me flat and fucked me. Dickie climbed on top of him
and poked into his rear. Martin stiffened and throbbed. When he started to
get up, Dickie said, "Wait, wait." Martin and I waited. Dickie reached down
and grabbed hold of me, tugging himself into his brother. I knew when he
came because he told us. "Now, now! Mmmmm!"

I asked, "What about me?"

Martin rolled me over and sucked me with Dickie nudging his head with his
hand.

Bradley and some kid not from our school served the eight o'clock Mass we
went to. We didn't see him afterwards. There were easily twice as many
people in that church than where I went with my parents.

Being without money, I took the hour walk home. Since my homework was done,
I'd left my books with Martin to bring on the bus. I stopped by the house,
said hello to my mother, avoided my father and went to see if Stewart was
home. His uncle sat out front so I went to Benson's to sit for a while. I
hadn't been broke in a long time. All my money had gone to foolishness and
our unfinished hideout that sat effectively abandoned.

I was in Freddy's house when they came home. He changed slowly, knowing it
turned me on, grinning the entire time. When no one was looking, he pulled
down his underpants and flashed his semi-erect cock at me. I pretended not
to see it.

Later, our stomachs full of his mother's good cooking, sitting in our tree
house, Freddy asked me who the boy with me at the supermarket had
been. "Mike says he was askin' my name."

"That's Martin from my class, the one who comes to my house and I sleep at
his on Fridays."

"And?"

I told him everything including Martin's love for me and the jealousy I
suspected. Then I told him what had happened at Fish's house and Martin's
fears I was becoming like Bobby.

"Then you best stay away from that place. They git you on drugs an', I
don't know. Just don't." He hugged me. It was the first time I could
remember him doing it first when he wasn't celebrating something.

I held him tightly.

Later, after we had spent an hour naked on top of the blanket enjoying each
other in the warm May air, he told me of his adventures and misadventures
as a bagger. He and Mike were getting along fine but Douglas, the other
bagger, was becoming increasingly nasty. The store manager told Mike he was
soon going to have to choose between Freddy and Doug. A few of the
customers too weren't happy with Freddy's presence. No one had said
anything but they gave Freddy dirty looks and always took a cash register
different from his. They were all the less affluent customers. A couple of
the better to do had actually complimented Freddy in front of
Mr. Johnson. They told him they hoped Freddy would be around for a long
time. I was ambivalent.

"Yo grandaddy talked to him too. I hope I still gotta job next week. Mama
sure can use the money."

We talked about Martin again and our hopes he wouldn't become a problem.

"I was thinking about seeing if we could spend some nights at Bobby's house
but now I don't know."

"If he's usin' drugs like you say, I don't wanna go anywhere neah `im."

Freddy was struggling with his English both grammatically and in
pronunciation. I liked his improved grammar but missed the flow of his
speech as it had been before my grandmother started to teach him. I'd tried
to imitate it a few times over the years but only got strange looks from
black and white alike.

It was almost dark when we knew we had to go to our separate homes. I
embraced him on the path. "I miss you all week."

"Me too. You think you can git Bobby offa drugs?"

"I'll try."

 I went early Monday to spend some time with Victor. He wanted to play some
more baseball. I went along though unenthusiastically. After a few throws,
he noticed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just don't feel like baseball this morning."

"Okay, whatta you want to do?"

"Just sit around and talk, or, wanna toss baseball cards?"

"But I don't have any cards," he told me.

"You can have some of mine." I held out half the twenty or so I had.

He stopped and gave me a suspicious look. "I told you, I don't have any
money so I can never pay you back."

I shrugged my shoulders. "That's okay. They're a gift anyway."

He looked at the cards held out to him. "Thanks, Malcolm, but I'll probably
just lose them first day."

"No you won't. I'll teach you."

	"I'm gonna lose, you'll see."

	I took him to the wall at the upper end of the plaza. He was
inexperienced but, being the natural athlete he was, picked up technique
fairly quickly. He lost all but two of the ten I'd given him but I won
seven so it wasn't too bad.

	On the stairs on our way to class, Bradley told me he'd seen Martin
and me at Mass. "I wanted to tell you. My uncle has this friend who is an
architect too and designs roads and bridges for the state. He knows
Victor's father and grandfather but says they're hard to work with and he
isn't friends or anything."

	Tommy caught up to us and heard enough to know it wasn't good news.

	At recess, Francis motioned for me to come over. I left the group.

	"Wanna go out back in the bushes?"

	"I can't. TheyŽll all know."

	"Just say I want some help with some arithmetic or something."

"They won't believe me."

	"How come. You didn't tell them anything about us, did you?"

	"No, but you know how they are?"

	"Shit, Malcolm. I'm so horny. Look at my pants."

	They were bulging.

	"I've been hard all morning."

	"What about Susan?"

	"That's why. She won't do anything any more. She went to confession
a couple of weeks ago and since then she just wants to talk. C'mon. We can
do it any way you want."

	"Can't you get into the boiler room?"

"No, they fixed the door.

	"Go to the boys room in the basement", I told him, "but wait until
they're not looking."

	"`Okay, but hurry."

	I walked back to the others.

	Pat asked, "What'd he want?"

      "He wants me to talk to somebody for him."

	"Who?"

	"None of your business."

	"Shit, said Tommy, `Susan's not blowing him any more. I heard
something about that last week. She went to confession and is telling all
the girls they shouldn't do it any more. A couple guys in the seventh grade
are real pissed. They're trying to get Bonnie Farrell to beat her up if she
doesn't shut up."

	"I gotta take a shit," I said. "I'll be back."

	I recognized Francis' shoes in the toilet stall and said,
"Francis?" softly.

He opened the door. His pants were down. He had his tin of grease in his
hand. "Hurry," he whispered.

I undid my belt and pants while he lubed his cock. It was getting bigger,
well over the length and girth I'd taken in many months before. While
listening for anyone to come in, I turned and sat gingerly on the head, my
cheeks pulled apart. It pushed its way past my sphincter and slid up
inside, massaging my prostate on the way by. I wished we were on a bed. I
sat on his lap and put my legs on top of his, out of view of anyone
entering the bathroom. I moved my hips forward and backward. Francis leaned
back and pumped in and out best he could. Within a couple of minutes, I
felt his cock grow inside me. He grabbed my cock and began masturbating me
fast. He came. His strong shuddering interrupted the rhythmic movement of
his hand. I kept moving my hips, running his cock against my sweet spot and
came in his hand. He didn't notice. I had to stop him. He sat, pulling his
cock back some and put his arms around me. "Shit, thanks, Malcolm."

He nudged me to stand up. I leaned forward and stood. His cock, hard as
when I came in, flipped out of me. He wiped it off with toilet paper and
handed some to me. I cleaned myself off and pulled up my pants. When I
opened the door, I saw the four of them in a row, Tommy, Pat, Martin and
Bradley, all of whom I'd been sure knew nothing of my sexual activities
with Francis. They were leaning against the wall in front of the toilet
stalls, everyone wearing the grin a tiger must have just before he chomps
into the throat of a helpless prey.

Francis pushed the door closed and finished buckling his belt. I could see
his mind was whirring. He reopened his pants, pushed me aside, opened the
door and asked, "Who's next?" Everyone roared with laughter.

Francis closed up his pants and walked out, leaving me to confront the
mob. Tommy patted him on the back as he went by. They didn't say a
thing. Tommy and Martin put their arms over my shoulders and walked me back
to the plaza.

Francis was with Glen, his back to us.  Pat said, "I told you guys. Didn't
I? Now, Malcolm, you gotta have lunch with us."

It turned out only to be Tommy and Pat, as usual. While he was pumping his
three and a half inches into me, Pat asked, "How big is Francis' dick
hard?"

I had my mouth full of Tommy so held my hands up with an approximate
measurement.

"Hurt any?"

I shook my head.

"Good `cause I'm gonna be that big next year."

As we ate, I asked them about Bradley. "How long has he known?"

Pat said, "I don't know how, but he knew about you and Francis back in
January. But don't worry, he won't say anything."

That brought the next obvious question. "Does he wanna do it too?"

"Don't ever say anything to him but he's kinda small."

"Then how's he fucking Virginia?"

"He isn't. She blew him once but won't do it any more `cause he's so
little. He'd kill me if he knew I said anything." Pat and Bradley were
neighbors and had hung together since their pre-school days.

"Tell him I'll blow him. I don't care how small he is."

"Forget it. He won't even let a doctor see his cock he's so embarrassed
about it. He's all worried about freshman year in high school over two
years away `cause he heard the doctor's examine you there."

"How small is he?"

"About like that. He held up his pinkie. And his balls are still real
little. You're the youngest kid in the class and even yours are getting
bigger."

"Really?"

"You didn't notice?"

I quickly opened my pants and pushed them down to my thighs. My balls
didn't look any different to me. I held them up only then realizing their
sack was longer, that they hung lower. I hadn't been able to lift them so
high before. There were six months to go before I turned twelve.

"See?"

Tommy looked around Pat. "Yeah. They're bigger."

I looked at my penis. "Somebody gimme a ruler."

Tommy knelt up and pulled one out from the desk in front of him. I massaged
myself hard and measured. Almost exactly three inches. I'd measured myself
a year or so earlier and it was only two and a half. I was growing.

Tommy had his pants down and was working his cock. Pat followed suit. Tommy
was three and a five eighths, Pat an eighth shorter but fatter.

Poor Bradley was about an inch shorter than me.

Martin convinced the driver to let me ride with him on the bus. I told
Martin that I wanted to see Bobby and talk to him. Martin thought it was a
waste of time and stayed with a neighbor. Bobby was in his house waiting
for a customer.

"You'll have to hide when he comes. He doesn't want anyone to know. Wait'll
you see what he does."

There was a knock on the door. "Quick, in that cabinet. Leave the door open
a little and stay back inside. You can watch."

He scurried off to the door. I heard voices but couldn't tell what they
were saying. A medium sized man about thirty five to forty walked in,
removing his clothes as he entered. Bobby only had on a shirt and pants,
which came off quickly. The man lay face down on the bed. Bobby lay beside
him and winked my way.

"Oh, please fuck me sir, please." He pushed at the man, trying to turn him
over but the man resisted. "Please, sir. I want to feel that big cock of
yours in my ass, all the way inside me, oh, please." He pushed some
more. The man allowed himself to be turned on his side. "Oh, sir, that's a
really big cock. It's going to feel so good inside me. Let me suck on it."
The words came out in a monotone, very unconvincing.

Bobby slid down on the bed and pushed his head into the man's crotch. All
that was visible were his hairy back, ass and legs. I could see Bobby's
brown hair bouncing as he sucked on the man and the man's hand reaching for
his ass. Bobby sat up and leaned over the man's face. "Please, now, sir,
fuck me. Fuck me good." He kissed him a few times.

The man rolled to his back. He wasn't very well endowed. Though thick, his
cock was less than five inches long. Bobby greased it up from his little
bottle and lay on the bed with a doubled over pillow under his crotch.

"Now, sir, fuck me sir."

The man climbed over him and pushed his cock between his cheeks. "You sure
you want me to do this?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, please sir. Stick it in me now. All the way."

The man pulled Bobby's ass cheek open with one hand and aimed his cock with
the other. He poked the head inside, straightened his body out and rammed
full into Bobby's rectum. I cringed, that had to hurt.

The man lay on top of Bobby and began to fuck him hard, raising his ass
slowly then driving hard back inside. Bobby faced away from me so I
couldn't see if he was in pain. The fucking went on and on. The man's ass
was like some kind of machine, up slowly then down fast. His arms were down
along Bobby's side, holding on to his upper thighs, pushing him up when he
thrust forward. Finally, he just stopped. His body did seem to quiver a
bit. Then his hands relaxed. His shoulders drooped. Bobby's feet seemed to
relax too.

After a while, the man got up, pulling his limp peter out of Bobby, the
head sticking for a moment then popping out, making his cock recoil. He
walked out of the bedroom. Bobby rolled over and grinned at me, holding up
three fingers, which I assumed meant three dollars. He sat cross legged and
waited. The man came back and dressed without a word. He counted three
dollars out of his wallet and handed them to Bobby who waved goodbye as the
man walked out. I waited until I heard the front door close then fell
forward out of the closet where I'd been sitting on a pile of clothes.

Bobby said, "Quick, Malcolm, let me fuck you. God, I need to get off."

I got out of my clothes as quickly as I could. He was greased and ready the
moment I lay on the bed. He lifted my hips, pulled back an ass cheek and
pushed inside, falling on top of me. "Oh, Malcolm. That feels so great. I'm
so happy you came."

He fucked slowly and nibbled on my shoulder with his lips. Pushing himself
a bit higher on me, he turned my head with his hands and pulled our faces
together. He had to stretch but managed to kiss me deeply, his tongue
wrapping around mine while he made shallow thrusts into my behind.

He slid back down so he could make longer strokes into me. I reached back
and squeezed his buns as they rose and fell. This was my third fuck but
only my second orgasm so he needed to cum soon or my cock would go on its
own. I raised my rear up to take the pressure off my penis. He rammed in
three more times and rocked with his orgasm, squirting his sweet juice into
my innards.

Bobby quickly rolled us over until he was on his back. "Sit up and turn
around," he said with urgency in his voice. He was still pulsing inside me.

I sat and turned. He leaned forward, slowed and pulled himself down the
rest of the way to take my cock full in his mouth. I was ready and fired
off the third time his head went down. He dropped back onto the bed, his
eyes closed.

Still throbbing, I asked, "Which is better, this or drugs?"

	"This is, absolutely."

	I moved my hips about to enjoy his cock inside me some more. He
lifted his knees and nudged me back against them. It was comfortable. His
embedded cock kept me from sliding forward.

	"Thanks for coming today. I'm sorry about Saturday. I wasn't very
nice, was I?"

	"You were high."

	"Yeah, a little. I still don't know what that guy gave me. I think
it was heroin we were smoking out of this water pipe he had. It was
different."

	"Why do you touch that stuff? It's really bad for you. I'll bet you
didn't even know that Fish and Kenny fucked you."

	"They told me after. Oh, that one boy, the one with the blue shirt,
you have got to try him. What a face and body and that cock. And he loves
to fuck. Came back Sunday. He wants to meet you. I think Robert said
something to him about a tighter ass, which is true. I can certainly
testify to that."

	"Bobby, you're gonna go crazy like this. Drugs and sex all day
long."

	He sighed. "I know. C'mere and hug me."

	I leaned forward. His cock popped out. I pushed my arms under him
and hugged him tight as I could. With my head on his shoulder and my lips
at his chin, I said, "We're really worried about you, Bobby. I thought you
were dead or dying Saturday, then Kenny and Fish said you do that a lot."

	"Well, not a lot."

	"Please stop."

	"God, you sound like me with that man."

	I pulled my arms loose and sat up on his tummy. "Bobby, listen to
me. I love you. I need you. You're the only one I can talk to. I don't want
to lose you. If you keep this up, something's going to happen, I know
it. You're either gonna be dead or in jail or, I don't know."

	"They can't put me in jail, I'm too..." He seemed to lose his
breath for a moment. He reached up and slowly pulled me back to him. The
side of my face was against his. I felt the first tear roll down. "What
else am I going to do? They won't let me go to school. Nobody but Fish will
let me in their house. I don't got any real friends. Everybody talks about
me. I can't even go to your house."

	I embraced him again. I had absolutely no answers except, "Well, I
love you. I'm your real friend."

	I could feel the occasional sob rumble through him. I felt so
helpless. All I could do was hold him.

	He asked, "Do you know how many boys and men have fucked me just
this year?"

	I shook my head.

	"Neither do I. I don't even know a lot of their names. The pretty
one Saturday that came back yesterday? I don't know his name or how old he
is or where he comes from, just that he fucks good. And that's all he
did. He didn't talk to me or nothing, just had sex, fucked. I love you too,
Malcolm. Thank you for coming. I wish I could go somewhere new and start
all over again, meet someone like you and just be with him."

	"Martin likes you."

	"No he doesn't. He likes you. He's crazy about you. I could see
that first time we met. You oughta see how he looks at you. No, he's
jealous of me. You're my only friend, Malcolm."

	I kissed him gently on the lips. He embraced me.

	"What's your mother think of all this. Does she know you're a
homosexual?"

	"She knows, everybody knows. She don't like to talk about it. She
don't like to talk about anything. Half the time we talk to each other we
end up in a fight. I think that's why she stays away so much. Sometimes I
don't see her two or three days. If I didn't have customers sometimes I
wouldn't eat."

	This was way beyond anything I'd ever heard. Victor had food three
times a day and people looking out for him even if just the family
chauffeur. Bobby not only didn't have a father. His mother wasn't always
around. No wonder he body was so soft. He certainly wasn't eating right.

	"Don't you have any relatives?"

	"Sure, but they don't want a half Spic faggot around. You don't
know how lucky you are to have that grandfather and grandmother you
got. They even like Freddy. Niggers and faggots don't bother them. If I had
grandparents like you, I'd be living with `em right now.

	"Sometimes I think I'd be better off dead. Lucky I like getting
fucked."

	It was nearly five and I had no money. I promised to try and return
the next day.

	During the walk home, I wracked my brain for a way to help Bobby
but came up empty.

	At dinner, my father told me the porch needed a good cleaning. I
wouldn't be seeing Bobby on Tuesday.

	Tuesday and Wednesday, Martin, Victor and I tossed before school
and during recess, successfully against seventh graders.

	After school Wednesday, I used my candy nickel and a couple of
pennies from my drawer and took the streetcar to my grandparents' house. My
grandmother answered my knock. "Why, Malcolm. What a pleasant surprise."

	Freddy must have heard and came running. He led me by the arm into
the kitchen where he and my grandmother were working. She spent an hour of
each two hour session on English, working on grammar and pronunciation. She
even gave him homework, which always included reading something and writing
a brief report on it that he had to read aloud the next session. As much
I'd noticed his English improve in normal conversation, there in my
grandmother's kitchen, he sounded like a different person. He even called
me `Malcolm'. I worried she was turning or trying to turn him into a white
boy.

	When she started in on math, it was algebra. When I asked why, she
answered, "Because he can do the rest."

	My grandfather drove us home so we could spend a bit more time
together. Freddy told me my grandparents promised he could go to college if
he did well in high school.

	I wondered if my grandfather could talk to Victor's grandfather
and, perhaps, arrange for him to come spend some weekends with us. When I
suggested it to Victor early the next morning, he said, "Unh uh. If my
grandfather knew I told you about anything, he'd, shit, I don't know what
he'd do but it would be bad, real bad."

	"They let anybody go see you?"

	"Nah, I tried that a couple of times. Peter, who was in fifth grade
with us last year, came out twice. They wouldn't let him in the
gate. Second time I got stuck in the shed. They said I told him where I
lived but I didn't. His father knew some guy who knew my grandfather."

	At lunchtime, I suggested we eat up behind the grotto. We took our
lunchboxes and ate and complained about our parents. I split my candy bar
with him.

After we'd been munching silently for a few minutes, I asked, "They said
you and Judy Barnes did it in the bushes behind the grotto over there. That
true?"

He grinned. "Who said that?"

"The kids, I don't remember who. Well, did you?"

"Yeh, sort of."

"What's she like? Got any hair down there?" I'd heard that line used among
the others.

"Just some fuzz but she's got little tits."

I was getting excited by visions of him putting that long cock of his in
her hairless vagina. "You touch them?"

"I sucked on `em."

"What's she say?"

"Nothing. She just lays there."

"In the bushes there?" I pointed at the large growth of honeysuckle vine
covered shrubbery behind and out to the sides of the grotto.

"Inside, back in there."

My cock was hard as stone. I moved around trying to see if he was getting
hard too. "And then you put it in her, you fucked her?"

"Don't say anything, okay?"

I crossed my heart.

"Just between her legs. She wouldn't let me put it in. She said she wanted
to stay a virgin."

"I'd let you put yours in me." There was nothing voluntary in the speaking
of those words. They just said themselves.

Victor looked at me with half a grin. "Then it's true about you."

"What?"

"You know, you're, kinda queer?"

"Kinda. You wanna do it?" I felt light headed and wanted desperately to put
my hand into his crotch, feel him, touch that long penis of his.

"Now?"

"We can do it where you and Judy did it."

"And you're not gonna say anything."

"Never."

He looked down the path and around us. "Okay. Follow me."

He walked to one side of the grotto, pushed aside a tall leafy bush and
strings of honeysuckle and led me inside. A few feet ahead, against the
back of the stuccoed grotto was an oval shaped, leaf covered open patch
about five feet across at its longest. I was so excited I fell over a bush
and went sprawling in the leaves. Victor smiled then got to his knees and
started to undo his belt. I rolled over and wrestled off my shoes without
untying them then went to work on my belt and pants. He pulled his down and
there it was, just like I'd seen in front of the cubicles at the pool. It
was gorgeous, longer than Tommy's, plump, the shape of a long cigar, my
dream cock for two years, about to finally be inside my rectum, poking my
prostate, sending me soaring into erotic paradise. Tommy had been so
right. All I had to do was ask.

Pulling my pants off with one hand, I took hold of it with the other. It
was hot and hard.

"How you want to do it?" he asked as though we were going to plant a tree
or hang a painting.

"Let me get it wet and you can do it from behind me. I'll show you."

Still pulling my second leg out of my pants, I leaned to him and sucked in
his peter. It was a delicious mouthful, hard and smooth. He pushed
forward. I put my free arm around him and held him tight. It excited me to
be able to touch his behind. This was Victor Cibelli. I revolved my head,
running his cock all over inside my mouth.

"Keep doing that for a minute," he said.

I complied but not for long. I wanted to feel that thing inside me. I let
go, leaving a mouthful of saliva dripping off him, and turned around on my
hands and knees. I guided his circumcised cockhead up to my anus.

"Go in," I told him.

He was already on his way before I finished the sentence. He slid right in
to his pelvis, nudging past and exciting my sweet spot. He moved tighter
against me, took hold of my hips, and began to fuck. I could feel the
hardness of his cock as he thrust up into my rectum. He lifted my hips and
pushed in farther.

"Lie down," he told me.

I lay down. He followed me staying as deep inside as he could. On the
ground, he held me like Freddy always did, with his hands up under my
shoulders and his head along side mine. I thrilled to the feel of his body
against mine. If only we'd been naked. He moved his hips up and down and
side to side before fucking again. Then he stopped and wobbled all around a
few times. He fucked some more then wobbled again. He was prolonging his
orgasm. I hoped he could go on forever. Getting to class on time was the
least of my concerns.

	His muscles began tensing. He fucked slower but harder and
deeper. His head lifted and turned. His nose brushed against the back of my
ear, warming it. His breathing was amplified and went "haahh, haahh".

	I struggled to get my hand underneath me so I could get off too.

	"Now," he said softly, directly into my ear.

	I felt the first pulse shoot up his shaft followed by others every
second. He continued to pump slowly.

	"Hurry up," he said.

	He understood my need and knew when it was met. The moment my
throbbing started, he stopped and collapsed on top of me.

	"That was good, Malcolm. We gotta do it some more."

	"Now?"

	"No, no. Other days. Yeah, that was good."