Date: Fri, 25 Mar 2011 21:27:04 -0600
From: michaelpete@hushmail.com
Subject: Malcolm 18

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 18 -- CAMP McFARLAND 1952 -- THE BETTER HALF -- PART 2

      Monday afternoon, Georgie supervised me being fucked by five boys
including a new one named Melvin. He was only ten but was Mark's little
brother and wanted to give it a try. Apparently he had been screwing
another ten year old at his boarding school. Bert tried to get me to reduce
my price but Georgie felt that would be bad policy and little Melvin had a
better than three inch long cock. Mark coached him as he fucked but the boy
didn't listen to his brother's counsel to slow down. His frantic thrusting
took him to orgasm in less than two minutes. But, he was cute.

	Tuesday afternoon, Bert had me back for four including big dick
John.  Then Bert got horny again and made it five.

	Pinky, who had missed both sessions due to being in detention for
cussing a master, visited me with Bert late Tuesday night. Then Bert stuck
another three dollars under my pillow with Pinky's and climbed in my
bed. It really irritated Georgie. I had to go to the bathroom again and get
rid of all that liquid and gas so it didn't shoot out into my pajamas. I
couldn't understand where all that gas came from after a bunch of boys
fucked me but there was always a lot.

	In the morning, Georgie said, "I thought the door was locked at
night."

	"Bert's got a key to three cabins including this one."

	"And the school and the nurse's clinic. Why can't he do it over
there?"

	"He did."

	The so called baseball finals began Wednesday morning. It was the
same absurdity as the previous year. We chose different teams each
morning. The two trainers did the choosing instead of two kids. I suppose
they figured they could put together more balanced teams. They didn't but I
was on the winning team. The other group had no pitcher. Even I got a hit
and eventually scored. The score was so lopsided everyone lost track.

	In the afternoon, we went with Butch and Larry up to the rocks,
but, other than a little kissing, we mostly talked and chased after
salamanders or whatever those squiggly things were.

	Thursday, after a more balanced baseball game we still won but only
by two runs, the masters promised medals to the winners of Friday's
game. It really depressed the kids on the other team as they saw no real
chance of winning. A group of them went to the trainers to protest. It was
agreed that new teams would be chosen. So much for playoffs.

      Georgie and I went to the pool in the afternoon and to the school
after dinner with Bert and two others, including Horace with his John sized
cock. It was the second time he'd fucked me and he was gentle and rather
enjoyable as before.

      The baseball final game, with entirely different teams this time
chosen by two of the boys, was fun. I struck out three times but walked
once. Best of all, I caught a fly ball, putting a player out, the first
time in my life. My team lost. Georgie was one of those who received a
medal.

      Friday afternoon, eight boys wanted my ass. Fortunately two of those
were ten year old Melvin and hairy Carl with the three inch cock, but
Charley, John and Bert were among the others. Georgie refused to come in
stating that "This is getting out of hand. You're gonna get hurt and I
don't want to be part of it." He wanted me to make four the limit. I wanted
to be able to tell Bobby I took eight in one afternoon. It had to drive him
crazy with jealousy.

	There was Bert, Jerry, Carl, Melvin, Mark, Charley, John and Pinky,
twenty-four dollars worth. They went from smallest, Melvin, to largest,
John. We were to take a break whenever I requested one. I got a better look
at Melvin. He was a small version of his brother but would one day have a
longer cock. His body was better than Georgie's with a neat tummy with deep
pelvic grooves and little pecs. His eyes were a dark brown like his
brother's and contrasted beautifully with his light brown, almost blonde
hair.

	I sucked him for a while then lifted off for him to get behind
me. "Keep doing that," he whispered. I slid back so he could lie down and
got to it. His skin was like silk, his perineum slick like polished
marble. His little balls were nice and round and fit nicely into my mouth
allowing my tongue to run up and down the little mound between his legs. I
tried to think how I could get this tyke away from his friends for a
session where I could see how he liked a tongue up his ass. Too bad he
wasn't in Larry's group.

	He squirmed like a trapped salamander as he closed in on his climax
and sat up like he'd been zapped with a cattle prod when he came. Jerry was
beside us waiting for lubrication. I sensed Melvin could and might well
want to go again so I held him in place and leaned over to wet Jerry's
ready four inches. Melvin made no attempt to escape. I clamped back down on
him as Jerry climbed on my back. I had to guide him in but he did fine on
his own from there. Melvin guided my head up and down and came before
Jerry.

	I let him go so I could get my cock off that sheet and avoid an
early orgasm. And I needed to slide forward or my knees were going to break
off. There were six more to go. Pinky sat where Melvin had been. I rested
on my elbows and sucked his long cock in. I enjoyed sucking him more than
any other I'd done. His cock was hard and narrow and long and he had the
best tasting cum. Then Jerry came and Pinky switched ends. Hairy Carl
wanted to take Pinky's spot beneath my mouth but I couldn't handle digging
through a mass of pubic hair to find his little dick.

	"Wait a minute, my back hurts," I told him. He waited. I relaxed
and enjoyed Pinky's narrow, long cock poking around inside my rectum.

	After Pinky came, I leaned over the side of the table and sucked
Carl's dick just long enough to wet it well. His hairs went up my
nose. Once on my back, he kept coming out, taking a long time to cum,
irritating the remaining four, the bigger cocks, waiting their turn.

	I took a break before Bert.

	I asked them why they were all in that boarding school. Jerry and
Steve, who wasn't there, were orphans unwanted by the rest of their well to
do relatives. Each had at least one other sister or brother also in
boarding school. Steve's older brother was sixteen and on the senior side
of camp.

	Mark explained, "We're a pain in the ass, right, Melvin? And our
father's a real asshole."

	"My father hates me but I'm not in a boarding school," I said.

	"Then you're lucky," said Mark glumly. I felt very sad for them
both.

	The rest were all inconveniences after divorces. They kidded about
it but I could feel the sadness behind their remarks. They were worse off
than orphans. They had someone who should have been providing them a home
but wanted nothing to do with them. They were rejects. My mother cared
about me and I had grandparents who would be there immediately if something
happened. I wanted to embrace them all. The least I could do was give them
good, warm sex.

	I moved my ass around for Charley and Bert and hugged his
hands. Mark did his own moving. I let John fuck me from behind. It wasn't
as bad as it could have been. He was slow and gentle. When he came, he held
still until his cock relaxed. I kissed him on the cheek.

	After unloading loudly into the clinic toilet, I walked out proudly
with twenty-three dollars in my pocket. I'd returned one of
Melvin's. Georgie had been waiting nervously outside and seemed relieved
when he saw me smiling.

	That evening, I told him the sad stories I'd heard there in the
clinic.

	"People can be real bastards," he said at the end.

	I lay in bed that night thinking about the many boys I'd met at the
camp who lived with sad home situations. Why, I wondered, would any loving
parent send their child away for two and a half months? It seemed certain
that few of the boys here came from the kind of homes that most of the kids
in my class enjoyed. Freddy didn't have a father but there was more than
enough love for all three children. I couldn't imagine Freddy or his mother
wanting to be away from each other for more than a week much less two and a
half months.

	That led to thoughts about the cause of my homosexuality. If messed
up family relations were responsible, how come half the kids at McFarlane
weren't homosexual. I needed to discuss it with Master Gorman. He seemed to
know a lot about the subject and was homosexual himself. And it would be
helpful to learn more about Larry's family. I remembered a bit from
discussions the year before but not very clearly.

	I saw Butch during morning sports and asked him if he and Larry
could join us after lunch for a walk up the mountain. Larry pushed in front
of me in the lunch line and grabbed my crotch. "What time?" he asked.

	"One thirty."

	I caught Master Gorman's attention and nodded at him hoping he'd
understand I wanted to communicate with him. More than that might have
attracted too much attention. Apparently nothing could cause me any
problems at that point but there was no sense making it difficult for him.

	On the way back to the cabin, he literally bumped into me.

	"Can you go with us this afternoon to the mountain? I wanna talk to
you."

	"I'd love to. Right now?"

	"Around one thirty at the bottom."

	Georgie and I left the cabin after brushing our teeth. Steve was
waiting outside. I turned him down but promised we could do something after
dinner.

      Butch and Larry met us as we crossed the sports field.

      "Master Gorman is up on the path."

      I explained. Butch wasn't too happy about the connection so I told
him that we'd jerked off together so he wasn't about to say anything about
anybody.

      Master Gorman was waiting where he'd met us the last time. He
appeared surprised by Butch's presence.

	"I just want to talk," I explained.

	"Fine with me," he answered.

	Butch walked up behind the rest of us, apparently still concerned
with Master Gorman's presence. Larry was curious about the master and came
to gab with me.

	"How come that guy is here?" he whispered just loud enough for me
to hear.

	"I want to talk to him."

	"Does he know what we do?"

	"Uh huh."

	"Do we have to do it with him?"

	"No. Anyhow, we're just gonna talk."

	He was disappointed. "Then can he leave?"

	I hugged him. "Uh huh."

	We sat on top of the rocks and talked about exactly how far we'd
come.

	"Point eight miles from the admin. cabin to here," informed Master
Gorman. "So it's less about a hundred yards from the cabins, still about
the same."

	"How do you know that?" asked Georgie.

	"We measured it when I was a camper here, about ten years ago. It's
one point six miles to the Appalachian Trail."

	I had other questions on my mind. "Larry, what's your father like?"

	"I don't know, normal, why?"

	"I wanna see what all our fathers are like. So whatta you mean
normal. Does he do things with you?"

	"I hardly ever see him. No."

	"Whattabout when you were little?"

	"Uh uh. He never did things with me. Said he would but never did."

	"He ever beat you?"

	Larry smirked. "Some."

	"Hard, like with a belt bareass?"

	"A few times but mom won't let him anymore. Your father beat you
like that? He did, din't he?"

	"Uh huh. Why'd your father beat you?"

	"Well, once `cause I broke the television but all I did was turn it
on and it didn't work. He wanted to watch some dumb program. And when I
went out this one day to play with this kid. They don't like me to go
out. They say I get plenty of playtime at school but that's a bunch of
crap.

	"And what else?"

	"When I didn't do what he said like eating something, some
vegetable. I don't know what it's called."

	Master Gorman asked. "Does he ever talk to you about anything?"

	"No, he's always too busy," answered Larry.

	I asked, "How old were you the first time he beat you?"

	"I don't remember."

	Looking at Master Gorman, I said, "I started doing stuff when I was
about four, maybe three with my fingers. I didn't get beat until I was
about seven so that's not it."

	He glanced at Larry then back at me. He asked, "Do you want to
discuss this here or..."

	"We're all friends here," I said. `Everybody knows I'm queer."
Bobby liked to all himself that. To me it didn't sound as burdensome as
`homo' or homosexual.

	Georgie grinned. Butch looked embarrassed.

	"If messed up families are the reason people turn homo," I asked
the master, "then why aren't half the kids in camp queer. Almost everybody
here has bad family problems, except like Butch."

	Butch frowned.

	I asked, "Is yours bad too?"

	"Not too bad, I suppose, but in a way it's like Larry's except I
can go anywhere I want as long as I'm in by bedtime. I don't even have to
come home for dinner. The maid leaves it out for me if I'm late. I get beat
too but for really stupid stuff like when I dropped a bottle of milk near
my father's car but mostly I just get yelled at. But we almost never talk
except about being a lawyer or why didn't I get a hundred on a test. Nah,
it's not so bad I suppose."

	Master Gorman raised his eyebrows at me and glanced quickly at
Butch. I shook my head.

	"Butch has a much better family than most of the kids here. You
ever talk to Bert and that bunch? I really feel bad for them and none of
them are like me so I don't think it's family stuff that makes a guy a
homo. I think we're just born this way."

	"I don't think you understood what I said the other day or I didn't
say it very clearly. What Freud and some others say is that it is certain
aspects of the relationship with your father and mother that do it. If the
way they act toward you makes you want to be more like your mother, that
could make you homosexual. Which one of your parents do you relate to
better? No, that's not putting it right. Which of your parents did you want
to be like?"

	Georgie said, "That's right, Malcolm. You never liked your father
very much, did you?"

	I thought back, trying to remember how I felt about him when I was
four and five. Larry's discussion of his father had reminded me of some
hits my father had given me when I was very little. I had tried to avoided
being near him for fear of them.

	"Actually, he did hit me when I was little. I remember I used to
try and stay far enough away so he couldn't reach me. I don't ever remember
him picking me up or doing anything with me. Mother made him play ball with
me once but he only did it for a few minutes then, I think, somebody called
him on the telephone. I waited for him to come back outside but he
didn't. He's always been a son-of-a-bitch."

	"So, if you wanted to be like somebody, it would have been your
mother."

	I stared at the master for a few moments. Everyone else stared at
me, waiting for my answer.

	"Yeah, probly." Larry was next to me. I slid my hand over to his
and squeezed it. For some reason, I felt like crying. I pulled Larry and me
together and hugged him with one arm. Heavy breathing kept the tears at
bay. Our sons-of-bitches fathers had made us into faggots.

	Georgie spoke of the others and possible differences between me and
them. He, Butch and the master went back and forth on it. Larry tugged my
arm.

	I said, "We gotta take a pee. We'll be right back."

	We walked silently in the direction Georgie and I had run away from
Washburn about that same time the previous year. We found a bare spot
beside a large tree and sat down, immediately cuddling each other. A few
tears fell down my cheeks. I felt very close to him, like he was my brother
or somehow closer. We didn't speak. Our embrace grew tighter until we were
holding on as though something terrible would happen if we came apart. Did
Larry understand this as well as I?

	Finally, I asked him, "Do you hate your father too?"

	"Mmm hmm. But I don't like my mother much either. I wish we could
live with somebody like Butch or Barney."

	"Me too."

	We were still there, though side by side, our arms around each
other, when Master Gorman came looking some time later.

	"We better be getting back or we'll be late for dinner."

	"What time is it?"

	"Four fifteen."

	We'd been there under that tree for two hours.

	"We can come back tomorrow if you'd like. I can ask Master Nichols
to cover for me."

	"No, thanks, I've got visitors tomorrow."

	Lying side by side in our pajamas that evening on the top bunk,
Georgie asked me, "Do you like being what you are or wish you weren't?"

	That was easy, `I wish I was like you. Being queer is just
problems. It's fun too but I'd rather be the one on top." Tears formed and
flowed. Georgie pushed his arm under my neck and gripped my far shoulder. I
rolled to him and buried my head in his chest. I wasn't concerned about who
might have been watching.

	It was the topic of my conversation with Freddy as we lay naked on
our blanket beneath the same tree that had sheltered Larry and me the day
before. We hadn't yet made love.

	"But it's the way you are and you ain't gonna change so don't worry
about it," said Freddy holding my arm with his hand. "We love you. Martin
does too and his mama. And you got good friends at school. And your granma
and granpa, they really love you a lot. Nobody cares. An' in a few more
years, you can tell your father to go fuck hisself and come live with me or
your grandaddy or wherever you want."

	"But I don't ever want to look at him again. He treats me like shit
because we're friends and I'm queer and he's the one who made me queer, the
son-of-a-bitch."

	We lay in silence for a while then Freddy grinned and asked, "You
wanna fuck me instead?"

	I kissed his cheek then his mouth. "No, I...' I turned and embraced
him. Most people hated people like me as much as they did Negroes, maybe
more. "I love you, Freddy."

	My best friend didn't say a word, just kissed my cheek and hugged
back. There was no sex that afternoon.

	Master Gorman and I managed a quiet talk in his room Wednesday
evening. That and my subsequent discussion with Georgie only strengthened
my belief that my father was responsible for the very homosexuality that he
condemned in me. It made going home to him a very difficult matter. I tried
to get it off my mind by having all the sex I could, even introducing Butch
to the front seat of the old Army truck parked along side the maintenance
shed.

	Thursday morning, to Georgie's consternation, I virtually offered
myself to the best looking boy in our cabin, who also happened to be a
smart mouthed bully. He had never bothered us, perhaps due to Georgie's
reputation as one who'd fight Goliath if he bothered him and my impressive
muscles. Freddy was right about bullies. They tended to be cowards.

      It went like this. We were in the shower. Saul, his name, had a
partial hard on. I ogled it. He flipped it at me. I backed into him and
bumped his crotch with my buns. Saul was also stupid. The idiot thought I
was just kidding him. Georgie dragged me away still wet with a towel to my
crotch and my ass bare all the way to the cabin. A couple of my former
cabin mates went "Ooooweee" as I passed by.

      I did manage to get fucked fourteen times Monday through Thursday
evening then Bert and Pinky sneaked in again late and made it sixteen. Carl
and Melvin were among them so the actual mathematical value was probably
more like fifteen.

      Friday afternoon, before I could think about seeking more, Georgie
took me up on the mountain and tried to talk sense to me.

      `Georgie, you are going to get caught and those lawyers are going to
learn about it and that will be the end of everything you did to get
Washburn. Worse, they'll tell your father and he'll wanna kill you for
being a fag and losing him all that money.'

      I took his hands and pressed them in mine. He was right but the sex
and the thoughts about it kept me from thinking about having to go home in
fifteen days. I was also earning a lot of money. Running away was in the
back of my mind and cash would help. I had no real plan on how to do it or
where to go, just an overwhelming desire not to be near my father for even
a minute.

      "I can't go back to him, Georgie, ever. If he touches me, I'll kill
him."

      "Shit, Malcolm. You can't even think things like that. Why don't you
talk to your grandfather. Anyhow, Gorman could be wrong. Maybe it's like
you said, you were just born this way. It's nobody's fault. You don't
know."

      "I know and maybe it isn't his fault that I'm a queer but that's not
the only thing. I can't do anything right for him. I get the best grades in
my class. He doesn't say anything. I go see a friend who happens to be a
Negro and he beats the shit outta me. From Friday after school to Monday
before school, he locks me in my room except for fucking church, which is
just his crap. I'm not supposed to even visit my own grandparents because
they are helping Freddy with his schoolwork. He'll probably get all pissed
because I called my grandfather about the Washburn thing. It won't matter
that he wasn't even there. And then, he'll probly blame the whole thing on
me, like I somehow got Washburn all excited and made him fuck those two. I
can't stand it anymore."

      "When's school start?"

      "Day after Labor day or the next."

      "Maybe you can come home with me until then. I'm going to my mother's
so it'll be okay."

      "Thanks, but then what?"

      Neither of us had an answer. I confided my thoughts about running
away.

      "So you have a few hundred dollars. You're eleven. Where are you
going to go?"

      "I dunno. Maybe with Bobby."

      "Anybody you go with will be in deep shit when they catch you."

      He said "when" as though it was a foregone conclusion that they would
catch me.

      "And what're you going to do about school? You don't go to college,
what kind of job are you going to get. I'll put up with a lot of shit for
that. Anyhow, you're almost twelve. In a little more than four years you'll
be sixteen. You can do anything you want, go live with your
grandparents. They'll keep you in school. Please don't run away."

      I fell forward and put my arms around his waist. He laid his hands
across my back and massaged me. My grandfather wouldn't be back for nine
days. I needed to see him before that.

      After dinner, I went to the administration cabin and requested to
make a phone call. They wanted to make it free. I insisted collect.

      "Granpa," I asked, "can you come Sunday. I need to talk to you."

      "Is something wrong?"

      "Nothing here. I'm just real worried about going home. I don't, I
can't..."

      "Just take it easy, son. If you want, I'll come tomorrow."

      "No, Sunday's okay."

      "You want me to bring your grandmother and Freddy?"

      I thought about that. I really wanted to talk to him but having them
with us, like a family, would be good. "Okay."

      When I got back, Bert was waiting up the walk from the cabin. I
noticed him but pretended I didn't and went in to tell Georgie I'd have
company Sunday. His parents hadn't come since his mother had in late
July. He didn't expect any more visits.

      Bert was persistent. He sent one of my cabin mates to ask me to come
outside.

      "Tell him I'm in bed."

      That didn't really work either. He and Mark came in at eleven and had
their way with me. I didn't really mind. I loved Marks' body and his long
strokes. And I made six bucks.

      The money was hidden in the fabric lining inside my trunk under books
I spread across the bottom. I had no idea how much there was but guessed it
was approaching three hundred dollars.

      Saturday afternoon, feeling better with my grandfather coming the
next day, I went up to a spot one of Bert's bunch had found that offered
good cover and was well off the path. We carried two blankets, a coke
bottle full of cooking oil and stoppered with a wad of wax paper, two small
bars of soap, five canteens of water, two rolls of toilet paper and a
towel. There were nine boys including Melvin, Carl and one I didn't know
plus Georgie who didn't believe my ass could handle it. I agreed to let him
check me from the fifth boy on and stop if he insisted. Bert didn't like
the interference but was too busy trying to negotiate a group rate to be
very concerned about Georgie. I knew they'd all pay so ignored his pleas.

      "You are a very hard person, Malcolm," he said several times.

      Business out of the way, he introduced me to the new boy, another
thirteen year old named Martin. I grinned.

      I had to shit after the sixth boy. I wanted to walk far enough away
so they couldn't hear the noise that always came out but urgency prevented
it. My ass ached a little from then on but still felt good inside too.

      As John, who was number eight, pulled out, I felt victorious, anxious
to brag the accomplishment to Bobby. The problem was proof. On the way back
down, I asked Bert if he'd get each boy's signature on a note attesting to
having fucked me that day.

      "You're crazy. Nobody's gonna sign anything like that. Not me
either."

      Bobby was going to have to believe the money and Georgie when he
eventually came to visit.

      Georgie and I took a quick shower, dressed and almost arrived late
for dinner, jumping into line as the master in charge was closing the rope
across the entryway.

      Steve wanted what he didn't get with the others but my ass was too
sore to take his rough action. He called me a faggot as he left.

      After a quick session in the bushes at the grotto to relax him,
Georgie and I went to our park bench where the five of us had sat together
the previous year. I felt relaxed, content. The anger and worry over going
home didn't press on me very much, even when we sat to discuss what to say
to my grandfather the next day.

      In bed, I wondered if, through my friends, I could get through
whatever my father threw at me over the next year. It was true that in
November I turned twelve. That seemed an age when the rules would, or at
least should, change somewhat. There were certain kinds of work I would
legally be allowed to perform as long as I went to school. It was the year
when I expected to see my cock and pubic hair begin to grow, to feel and
hear my voice begin to change, to do some serious overall growth. I was
strong right then, but by keeping up my regimen of exercise I'd be a lot
stronger as well as bigger by the following summer. My father would have to
think carefully before trying any physical punishment. I'd already clipped
him a few. I knew he'd been hurt by my blows. He knew I wasn't afraid of
him and would fight back. Things would be changing.

      My only real concern was an attempt to put me in a boarding school
like where Bert and his friends were warehoused. That could not be
allowed. I would not be taken away from direct contact with Freddy, or the
rest of my friends.

      By the time my grandfather arrived the next morning, I wasn't so
upbeat. Reality had seeped through the euphoria of having had eight cocks
up my rear. One of the boys from the ten year old group ran in at ten
thirty to tell me I had a visitor. My grandparents had left their home at
seven in the morning. Freddy had spent the night.

      Freddy and I hugged. He whispered in my ear, `How's your ass?' and
laughed.

      `Still dripping sperm from eight yesterday.'

      He leaned back and looked me in the eye. I smiled and nodded. He
shook his head and laughed some more then, `I'm gonna be in seventh grade
just like you.'

      `Yeah, right,' I said facetiously.

      `Ask Uncle George. I passed all the tests they gave me at the
Department of Education. Aunt Clare set it up. I'm goin' to junior high in
a couple weeks. Whatta you think of that?'

      I'd brought Georgie along with me so he could be part of the
discussion. We walked to a lightly forested area near the maintenance shed
and spread the blanket my grandmother had brought.

      As we sat, Freddy had my grandmother confirm his academic
accomplishments. My grandfather guided the conversation to my reason for
wanting the visit.

      I explained my concerns and my unwillingness to be locked up on
weekends and absolute rejection of a boarding school.

      Everyone was silent for a while. Freddy spoke first. He was worried
that boarding school was even a consideration. "He can't do that, can he?"
he asked my grandfather.

      "He could, but I think Malcolm's mother might put her foot down on
that. We talked about it briefly just before she left. She doesn't believe
he'd do it but said she'd say no and not permit it.'

      "You know about the new door to my bedroom, after my bathroom,
right?" I asked.

      "You told me."

      "Does he know about the Washburn thing yet?"

      "No, all I have is a letter from your mother that they'll be coming
in on the train the day after Labor Day and that you should go to your
aunt's when you come back to the city. But you can stay with us, and
Freddy. Or at Freddy's if you want. Aunt Martha misses you."

      Georgie said, "Or he can stay with me for a couple days at my house."

      Much as I cared for Georgie, I wanted to be with Freddy, sleep with
him by my side. "I better go back home. I can come see you for
Thanksgiving, maybe before, if there's a holiday on Friday or Monday. You
can come see me whenever you want."

      Georgie shrugged his shoulders. I was effectively his only real
friend. He didn't like anyone very much in his school and, when he was with
his mother, lived in an area where there were few children. The monthly
weekends with his father were worse. He had to stay in the apartment. I
felt terrible for him, guilty that I couldn't be with him more.

      "Malcolm, when you called me Friday night, I think you had more on
your mind than what you've said."

      His implied question brought the devils out of hiding. Much as I'd
tried to rationalize the effect my friends could have in lifting my
spirits, giving me the strength to put up with my father's abuses, deep
down inside of me, I knew that at the moment of one of his assaults on my
life style, I'd rebel.

      "I don't want to live with my father any more. He doesn't like me
anyway so why can't I just live with you?"

      "I was afraid that's what it was. Malcolm, you have got to face
reality. For the next few years, Henry Lloyd is in charge of you. You can't
run away from that. What you need to do is learn to adapt. Don't get angry
every time he does something you don't like. Try to make him at least think
you are cooperating with him. Do the chores. Come home on time. Maybe even
try to be a little friendly toward him. There's the old saying and it's
very true: you catch more bees with honey than vinegar."

      "But I hate him."

      "There's part of the problem. Stop saying that. Forget your
hate. Throw it away. It only makes your life more difficult. When he comes
home, smile at him, tell him you want to do better. If he asks about
Freddy, just say you'll try. He's going to be getting a lot of money thanks
to you. It's an opportunity for you to begin a different relationship with
him. You've done the right thing by telling what happened to those boys
even though you were afraid, very afraid what might happen to you for doing
it. You were very brave."

      "I was mad at what they did to me. He'll know that. He helped them."

      "He didn't know what was going on when he did. He probably would have
reacted very differently had he known."

      "I don't think so."

      My grandfather sighed. "Malcolm, your father isn't all bad. He loves
your mother. She sees good things in him."

      "Do you?"

      "I don't really know him that well."

      "You see? You don't either."

      He frowned. "Malcolm, you want to solve this problem? Improve your
life? You have to change some too. I've got an idea. I challenge you to use
your very good brain to tell me two good things about your father."

      I frowned.

      "Do it. I'll give you a dollar for each good thing you can say about
him."

      Georgie smiled but tried to hide it. He knew there were hundreds of
dollars making lumps all over the bottom of my trunk.

      "He works hard. He makes a lot of money. There. Gimme two dollars and
tell me how that helps me."

      My grandfather grinned and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out three
dollars. "One more."

      I thought, "He's a good carpenter."

      Three dollars passed into my hand. Georgie broke out laughing.

      Freddy asked, "What?"

      Georgie answered, "Nothing."

      Freddy insisted, "What?"

      Georgie waved him off and tried to straighten his face.

      My grandfather asked, "Did you ever tell your father what nice work
he does in his shop?"

      "Why? I've always got to clean up the mess he makes. He never
does. Just me. And he never makes anything for me like you do, just for
himself and mother."

      "You ever ask him to make something for you?"

      I thought. "No. What am I going to ask him for?"

      "Okay. There's another question. What could you use that he could
make in his shop?"

      "Hummph. A table for beside my bed but you already did a long time
ago."

      "C'mon, Malcolm, something you don't have but would like, would be
helpful.

      I thought some more. "Maybe a bigger desk."

      "Something a bit easier.

      "Gees, granpa. I don't know. Another book shelf."

      "Perfect. Ask him to build you one."

      "He won't."

      "You don't know that. He's got to be happy, even if he doesn't say
so, that you're the top student in your class and read a lot."

      "I don't think he cares. All he sees is that I have a nigger for a
friend and I'm a faggot."

      "Maybe, but he's soon going to have to accept that your nigger friend
is a top student too, right Freddy?" He put his arm around Freddy's
shoulder and gave him a hug. "Freddy got nineties in all those tests he
took to get into junior high. He is now in the same grade as you after
starting effectively three grades behind. So you better watch out."

      Freddy, grinning and scratching his chest, waved a finger at me.

      "But if you tell, that'll just make my father mad. He hates Freddy."

      "He hardly knows Freddy. He hates the idea of Freddy, that's
all. We've been trying to think of a way for him to get to know him. Maybe
then he'll realize his ideas about Negroes are all backward."

      That reminded me of Bert's statement that it wasn't really Freddy and
Negroes that bothered my father but his son being a homosexual. It was my
greatest fear because there was no solution. I was what I was. Freddy could
be hidden but not me. My grandfather saw the increased worry on my face.

      My grandfather said, "You don't think he can, do you. Well, others
have, others..."

      "That's not it. Freddy's only one thing. What if he hates what I am
more than he hates Freddy?"

      My grandmother answered, "Dear, you don't know for sure what you are
so how can he?"

      "But I do know, granma. I'm a homosexual and I always will be. People
like me never change. The ones who said they did are liars. And it might be
my father's fault I'm what I am."

      "Please don't ever say that to him, dear. Never. It would upset him
terribly."

      "That's why I want to get away from him. He'll never like me even if
I ask him to make me a shelf or smile at him or even never see Freddy
again. I have to live someplace else. I can't be with him."

      I felt tears well up. "Granpa, what if he tries to hurt me again and
I hurt him, bad. I had a knife the last time. I got scared and put it back
but I wanted to use it."

      He looked at the ground for a while. "I know this is very hard for
you, and I agree it isn't fair. Maybe you just have to be more mature than
he is. The only suggestion I have is that when you feel yourself getting
that angry, run away from him, outside. Get away until you can calm
down. Call me if you have to. Go see Freddy or his mother. Talk to
someone. Father Lindenhal at the church. You're bigger now. You've made
yourself very strong. He knows you're not a little boy any more. But don't
you start anything.

      "Malcolm, you have to go home and find a way to live in the same
house with him for a few years more. There really isn't anything else you
can do now."

      "If I run away? Then what? If he tries to hurt me or make me stay in
my room all the time like before camp. I know there's nothing you can do
about him, Granpa, but I just can't take any more of what he does to me. I
just hate him so much.' I had to breathe hard to keep from crying."

      "But you've got to try. Just try, Malcolm. Remember, you're going to
make him rich. The money is more than you think."

      "He's already rich."

      "No he's not. This camp is difficult for him along with his trips and
all. His bank account is usually close to empty. He spends it as fast as he
makes it."

      That was a surprise. My assumption had been just the opposite. "Then
why does he go away for two months instead of working all summer? He's
always going away."

      "Well, according to your mother, it has something to do with the type
of business he's in. Everybody he needs to work with is also away during
the summer or so she says."

      "But if he hasn't got any money, why doesn't he save some and just go
to Ocean City or Rehoboth Beach or somewhere like everybody else?"

      "I have no answer for that."

      "Then why didn't he just let me stay home and work this summer
instead of paying for me to come here? I could have made enough to buy all
my own stuff for school."

      He just shook his head.

      I knew the answer, or thought I did. "You see? He did it just so I
couldn't do what I wanted. I'll bet if I said I wanted to come here, he'd
have made me stay there. That proves it. He just does things against me."

      "I doubt that, Malcolm. He bothers me too but I don't think he's that
petty. I think he does things like this expensive camp and our expensive
school because he believes they are good for you." He saw me shaking my
head. "That's one of the good things about him you don't want to accept. If
you remember, you were in parochial school back in first grade and the
moment he had the resources to do it, he put you in a better school. He
used to send you to YMCA camp but now he sends you here. This is a lot
better than YMCA Camp, isn't it?"

      I really didn't want to accept anything good about my father and
looked for other reasons he might have had to do what he did, to spend more
money on me.

      Grandmother brought a lot of food, more than we could eat. After
dessert, Freddy, Georgie and I went to the cabin to use the bathroom.

      Georgie said, "You know why I was laughing before?"

      Efore I could say anything, Freddie asked, "Why?"

      "Malcolm charges three dollars for a fuck. His grandfather could have
fucked him for that." They both laughed. The very idea bothered me.

      "Shut up, Georgie, that's sick!"

      Back with my grandparents, Freddy told me the latest news on
Bobby. His business was re-opened and doing better than before. He was
spending a lot more, according to Martin, to comply with health department
regulations but doing okay. Martin and Steven were earning thirty dollars a
week between them making deliveries and container pickups.

      Had I not gone away, that could have been me making that money,
almost as much as I was renting out my lips and behind.

      We three boys headed up on the mountain and did what we
wanted. Freddy's closeness soothed my frazzled nerves and injected a breath
of confidence I'd be able to handle whatever might happen back home.

      Late that night in bed with Georgie in my bottom bunk where we'd
fallen asleep supposedly reading but really talking about why anal sex felt
so good, I felt someone tugging on my shoulder. It wasn't Bert this time
but Georgie.

      `Lemme fuck you, Malcolm.'

      Without a word, I rolled over and pushed off my pajama
bottoms. Georgie's were already off. He wet himself and climbed on top of
me. I was half asleep most of the time. It was a struggle to remind myself
to squeeze my anus. Georgie fucked with spaced forceful thrusts, pulling
hard on my shoulders with each. My brain gradually focused on reality. By
the time he came, I was fully awake and looking around to see if anyone was
watching. I was sure there were rumors about us. Everyone seemed to
recognize I was at least different and Georgie and I were near constant
companions. Seeing the blanket over his buns bobbing up and down over me
would only confirm things.

      He lay on me long after his hard throbbing had stopped. I thought he
had fallen asleep and nudged him.

      "I'm awake," he said in a whisper. "I'm really gonna miss you."

      I knew he didn't mean my ass.

      Monday morning, the footballs were stacked in the middle of the
field. The smaller, weaker boys looked at them apprehensively. I was the
strongest kid there but far from the most athletic. Little Georgie, who
easily weighed twenty pounds less than my ninety-six, could run circles
around me. We paired together and he worked on my throwing and receiving.

      "Even with all those muscles, you still throw like a girl."

      I caught reasonably well as long as I wasn't moving but when he had
me run a short route, the ball bounced off my back.

      The trainer made me the center for my team. When everyone wanted to
poke his crotch at my proffered rear end, I was moved to guard where I had
a modicum of success though more defensively than offensively. I actually
stopped a few plays by throwing my body in the way of the oncoming blockers
and ball carrier. It was becoming fun. I looked forward to the next
morning.

      Bert and Steve wanted me at three thirty. In the school clinic, I
told Steve he had to promise to fuck slower or I wouldn't do it with him.

      "Then what am I paying you for?"

      "The same as the others but they don't hurt me."

      `Fucking pansy!'

      I said, "Sorry, Bert, I gotta go."

      "Wait, Malcolm. Steve's kinda right. For three bucks it can hurt a
little."

      "For a hundred bucks it can't hurt like he does. I'm not going to do
this any more."

      Bert chased me down the hall. "Look, Malcolm, you made a lot of money
with us this summer. You can't just say no more. You got a problem with
Steve, not the rest of us."

      I turned to face him. "Then why'd you take Steve's side?"

      "Because, in a way, he's right. So he's a little rough. He's not
really hurting you that much and we're paying you a lot of money for
something we get for free at school."

      "So you wait a couple weeks and you'll have it for free again."

      I walked out the door swinging it open, leaving Bert to close it. If
I didn't have three hundred dollars, I was close. It was enough. And, I'd
have more time to spend these last eleven days with Georgie. But Bert was a
practical boy if nothing else.

      He slipped me a note at dinner time. I read it on the way back to the
cabin.

      "I'm sorry for talking to you like some whore. We all know you have
your problems and need the money. Steve won't come any more but we'd like
to see you. We promise to behave like gentlemen. You were great on
Friday. No one at our school ever could have done eight at once."

      It was signed by Bert, Jerry, Pinky, Carl, Mark, Horace, John and
Charley. I'd only seen Horace once back in July.

      The note alone was worth all they had paid for that Friday
orgy. Although I expected eventually to have Georgie down, it was evidence
of an act Bobby had never even approached.

      I took it straight to my trunk and stowed it with the money.

      That evening, however, belonged to Georgie. We wandered around where
Bert was unlikely to interfere with our privacy and talked about religion
and Georgie's theories regarding the various practices. He was still a fan
of the Great Spirit.

      Tuesday afternoon, Bert was outside his cabin watching for me when we
completed a double run around the main camp area. Bert came to the shower
with us.

      "Is everything okay between us now?"

      I nodded.

      "Can some of us see you after dinner at the school?"

      I nodded again.

      "How many?"

      "Who?"

      "Me and Mark, maybe Melvin if he can get out, Pinky..."

      "Just those. I can do the rest tomorrow."

      "If Jerry wants to come in place of Melvin, that okay?"

      "Okay."

      Jerry came with Melvin but he was small, about Butch's and Martin's
size so I let it pass. When Mark was done, Bert had him take Melvin back to
his cabin. Then after Pinky was done, he took him and Jerry, who screwed me
first, to the door saying he needed to talk to me about something. We were
alone when Bert finally fucked me. He was very passionate, very slow.

      "You are really a great kid, Malcolm." He kissed me on the
cheek. "You know how to do it on your back with your legs up?"

      "Un huh. Just keep doing it slow."

      He pulled out and watched me turn over. Before I could put my legs
up, he put his hand on my abdomen and ran it slowly down to my crotch. He
looked very nervous. He lay beside me.

      "Please never tell anybody about this, nobody, not Georgie, nobody."

      I immediately had no doubt what his secret was. He wasn't really my
type at all. I liked the softer, smoother, less physically mature
boys. Bert even had a few hairs sprouting inside his ass cheeks and under
his arms. But we'd been together so much, and he seemed in such great need,
and so vulnerable letting me in on his great secret he'd probably never
told anyone in his life.

      I rolled to him, put my arms around his neck and pressed my mouth to
his. His arms went around me, tentatively at first, then gently
embracing. He was nervous, cautious, apparently unsure of what the limits
might be. I sucked in his lower then upper lip. His breathing became
erratic. He pulled his mouth away and put his head on my shoulder. I felt
wetness on my shoulder. At first I thought it was saliva but quickly
realized he was crying. He began sobbing and holding me tightly.

      "I'm sorry, Malcolm, sorry."

      My heart melted though I had no idea what he was crying about. I put
my hand behind his head and held him. He kissed my cheek then returned to
my mouth but couldn't control his sobbing and put his head back on my
shoulder.

      "Shit, this is so stupid, I'm sorry. I, I've just, just never done
this before." His words were disjointed, spaced between sobs. I didn't know
whether he was talking about the lovemaking or the crying. I wanted to help
but had no idea what to do or say so I just held him and waited.

      He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to kiss again. His eyes
were closed, his lashes and cheeks wet with tears. I pushed my tongue
between his teeth. He opened up and ran his tongue about mine. Twice, he
sobbed deeply, opening his mouth to gulp air each time. I wanted to pull
him on top of me but the table was too narrow. His hand slipped from around
my neck and worked its way hesitantly down my side to my hip, between us to
my belly then down. I backed off so his hand could get to my erection. He
touched it lightly, gradually wrapping his fingers around it then pushing
further down to my testicles.

      He moved his mouth to my ear. "Malcolm, can I suck you?"

      "Why don't you wash yours off and we can do it together."

      He kissed me softly twice, started to get up then leaned back and
kissed me again.

      I followed him into the bathroom and put my arms around his waist
while he washed the oil and residue from inside my rectum off his stiff
cock with soap and water. We walked back to the table hand in hand.

      I told him to get up first then kissed him on the lips before
climbing on top of him end to end, my crotch over his face, his hairy cock
in front of mine. He sucked me in first and moved my cock around inside his
mouth. I went down on him. I'd never sucked him before. I immediately liked
the larger head and hard, thick shaft. I sucked up and down, softly since
he seemed so close.

      He let go of mine and asked, "Can I get on top?"

      It took some maneuvering on the narrow examination table. The sheet
fell on the floor putting my back against the less slippery leather. He
went down on me, right past my balls. I had to push his hips up to get his
penis back in my mouth and hold them there so his cock wouldn't gag me. He
was far too tied up mentally with my cock to realize how uncomfortable I
was. Finally, I couldn't hold him any longer and pushed him on his side. I
think he finally caught on to my problem. His initial clumsiness with my
peter was little by little replaced with a more consistent sucking that
brought me closer and closer to my climax. I sucked harder on him. He
grunted, stiffened and came within a few seconds. The sperm that shot into
my mouth was less tasty than that of Pinky but certainly wasn't
unpleasant. The great volume forced me to swallow most of it. I came as he
was eking out the last drops.

      We stayed like that for several minutes. I let go first. It was dark
outside. He sucked a few times then sat up.

      He looked at me and said, "Thanks, Malcolm. I'm sorry for the way I
acted. I don't know why..." He shook his head.

      "You've never done this before?" I asked.

      He shook his head again.

      "Why not?"

      "You know how they talk about people like us. In my school, the
queers are treated like shit. Most of them get fucked or have to suck
anybody who wants it. You saw how Steve is. There are kids just like him
who are a lot bigger and they do it to kids your size and there's nothing
they can do about it. They're not like you. Shit, you're not afraid of
anybody. This whole camp tried to screw you and you got the director
fired. You are such a neat kid. I've always been afraid to trust anybody
but I knew almost from the start that I could trust you. Then I saw you
take eight kids up your ass last Friday and, I mean, that had to hurt some
and you just smiled and did some more. And yesterday with Steve? Shit, I've
never seen a queer ever stand up to him. They're all afraid of him. You are
the toughest kid I've ever met. I knew I could trust you. Nobody could make
you tell anything about anybody."

      "I told on Washburn."

      "Yeah, `cause you were right. And you weren't afraid of his
father. You gave `em all the finger. Jesus, you are a neat kid."

      I could have listened to that all night. No one had ever used praise
to come on to me. And I had no doubt he was being sincere. He was the
leader of a group that included some pretty rough, mean kids all of whom
deferred to him. Steve was almost certainly stronger than Bert but he
obviously told him to step back and let the others have something he wanted
as much as they and would certainly resent not having. Who would ever have
thought Bert was a queer like me?

      He wanted to talk but it was very close to eight. We had to get
back. I suggested he go up on the mountain with Georgie and me tomorrow.

      "Please don't say anything to Georgie."

      "Georgie's just like me for trust. You can trust him. He knows a lot
of stuff and he never says anything. Meet us on the trail at the back of
the baseball field at three thirty. I won't say anything."

      "Wait, you promised the others."

      "Tell them Thursday."

      Bert didn't show up.

      Georgie enjoyed a great walk and discussion of what kind of
government would be best for the U.S. Georgie was for making Harry Truman
king and not bothering with the next election. He didn't trust anybody
military.

      Bert did show up as we came back from dinner. He apologized and asked
if we could go some place private like the school, Georgie with us.

      Inside, I waited for him to say or do something. He did something,
kissed me long and deep then stood there looking at Georgie. Georgie was
confused.

      "So?"

      Bert kissed me again.

      "Am I supposed to guess something like on that TV show?"

      Bert sighed and put hand on my crotch and rubbed up and down.

      "Shit. You too?"

      "Mmm hmm," answered Bert.

      "So what now?"

      Bert was disappointed Georgie wasn't more surprised.

      "I told you," I said to Bert. "He doesn't care. And he won't say
anything if you tell him not to."

      Georgie said, "I wouldn't anyhow. Nobody would believe me. But I can
see it now. I'll bet you don't fuck bigger kids."

      It was Bert's turn to be confused.

      "Yeah. Some guys like bigger kids and men, some like `em
smaller. Malcolm likes boys bigger than him. You like them smaller, right?"

      "I like Mark. He's kind of big."

      "Who do you like more, Mark or his little brother?"

      Bert put his arms around me. "Melvin."

      Georgie held his hands out and bowed. "You two are different, not all
the way, but different. And listen to how you talk and how you act. We know
a man who likes boys, and Washburn. They act normal. Malcolm and kids who
like `em older, they act like girls. Different."

      I was thinking Georgie was a genius and wished Master Gorman was
there to hear what he said. Martin and Bobby popped into my mind. Bobby
liked older and acted like me. Martin liked Steven and acted like Bert and
Master Gorman, normal. Georgie was a genius! But I liked Melvin and Steven
too.

      "I like Melvin too."

      "Who do you like more, Mark or Melvin?"

      "Mark."

      "Ta daaa!" He bowed again.

      "Hey," I said, "I like you."

      "Who do you like better for sex, me or Mark?"

      "Okay but I still like you, I kinda love you."

      "Okay, now think about this before you answer. You love Freddy like a
brother. Forget that and just think sex. Who would you rather have fuck
you, Freddy, or Mark, or Charley?" He knew I thought Charley was gorgeous,
which he was.

      I thought. I couldn't separate my feelings for Freddy from sexual
desire for anyone. "Freddy."

      "Okay, so that doesn't work. But you get my point. You like bigger
dicks than Bert."

      I felt Bert's dick hard against my backside. He may just have wanted
to talk but the talk brought another desire. I reached back and squeezed
him.

      Georgie remarked, "Now I gotta watch you two?"

      "You can have two blow jobs."

      Bert wanted to suck me then fuck me. It would have worked better in
reverse but I appreciated his situation. After a week and a half, he'd be
back to playing the straight guy. I sucked Georgie while Bert fucked me. I
refused his money.

      Thursday and Friday were orgy days. I went through all of them over
the two afternoons

      Saturday after lunch, Georgie, Butch, Larry, and I went up to the
place where I'd done the eight. We roasted marshmallows until Larry became
affectionate and captured my full attention. Butch and Georgie sat back and
talked about who knows what while the two of us made love in front of them.

      On the way down to camp, Georgie said, "We used to talk more." He was
serious.

      I spent the evening with him wandering out the entrance road and back
in the dark. We discussed his theory about the differences among
homosexuals. I suggested we see if we could talk it over with Master
Gorman.

      My grandparents and Freddy showed up at eleven fifteen. We invited
Butch and Larry to eat with us but up on the mountain after my grandparents
said they couldn't make the trek. Georgie liked the idea probably because
their presence would prevent any sex. We made it all the way to the top of
the rocks and ate ourselves full of tuna salad, BLT and ham and cheese
sandwiches, potato chips, apples, chocolate cake and the no longer cold
milk we bought from the camp store.

      It was my last Sunday at camp. Friday, I was supposed to take the bus
home but my grandfather informed me he'd be around to pick me up no later
than ten thirty. Butch could come too. He wrote down his home phone number
to call and arrange permission.

      The talk of our imminent departure made Larry very sad. Butch noticed
and sat beside him. I looked at Georgie. He didn't look very happy
either. I expected to pull Butch into our group with Martin and
Bobby. Georgie and Larry would have no one.

      That night as I lay beside him, I reassessed my life compared to
Georgie and Larry. I had a far worse father than they but friends to lean
on. Maybe there was a way to survive with my father, using some of the
strategies suggested by my grandfather. I hugged Georgie who had fallen
asleep. He stirred and flopped his arm over me. I kissed his cheek and
promised to myself to find ways for him to visit me as often as possible,
even if I had to buy his train ticket. And he had to get most of my time
during those final four days.

      My football blocking skills were improving. The quicker boys had no
trouble getting around me on the outside but in the middle of the line
where the trainers had me, my strength and determination reaped results. We
were playing two hand touch. I doubt I actually stopped more than a few
runners during the entire three weeks of football but by ramming into the
side of the line the other team was trying to run, I fouled up things
sufficiently that we were able to stop many plays in the other team's
backfield. I was quite proud of myself and looked forward to the games at
school I'd generally watched from the sidelines.

      Bert came to me at lunch and asked to make a schedule for those last
four days. Everyone wanted at least one more crack at my crack, including
big Horace. Georgie insisted it would be once each and no more.

      We settled on four sessions, that and Wednesday afternoons and
Tuesday and Thursday evenings, all in the school.

      Steve was waiting at the school door when I arrived at three twenty.

      "Look, Malcolm, if I promise what you want, can I come in?"

      There was more self interest than apology in his words. Nonetheless,
I hooked his arm and took him in with me. Bert had Horace and Carl with
him. Little dick, hairy Carl wanted to be blown. Steve, well browned at the
end of the summer except for that white swath in the middle of his body,
wanted a little lip action before oiling up. I'd never tasted his cum and
wanted to.

      I pulled his head to me and whispered, "Let me suck you all the way
this time and you can fuck me tomorrow or Wednesday. I won't charge for
this."

      "Okay but you gotta tell Bert." Hardass Steve was being very correct
for a change.

      He leaned back on his arms. I went down on his four and a half
inches. As I did with Carl, I put my hand over his bush and sucked and
twirled and tongued. He tried to lie back but the table was too short. His
stomach went in and out with his lungs. I slipped one hand to his balls and
massaged them gently between my fingers. Remembering the effect of Bert's
fingers between Steve's legs, I reached in to his perineum. It was still
hairless and bulging. I let my fingers go to his pucker. He seemed to
squeak. His thighs hardened. His cock bloated. He shot waves of semi-sweet
cum into my mouth. I couldn't imagine John or Horace would have any more.

      Horace was already behind me fingering my hole when Steve
unloaded. He didn't wait for Steve to get down before moving in behind
me. He felt thicker this time, perhaps because he was the first one in.

      Bert got everyone out before his turn. He wanted to neck before
sticking me and, rather than beating me off at the end, gave me a blow job
while I ministered to Georgie. I took his money this time.

      That evening, Georgie and I took another walk out the entry road. He
talked about camp food but I could hear the sadness in his voice.

      Tuesday afternoon, we went to the rocks with Butch and Larry.

      Larry and I tried to suck Georgie at the same time while Butch
plumbed Larry's backside but were trying to tongue each more than
Georgie. It was a miserable failure. I finished him off and enjoyed those
hard throbs of his orgasm.

      That evening, I had Melvin and Mark along with Steve and John, or,
more correctly, they had me. Beautiful little Melvin insisted on trying my
rear and feigned an orgasm I know he didn't achieve. Mark, on the other
hand, did get off after giving me his best fuck yet, making me cum. I had
to take a fifteen minute break before the next big cock went into my
briefly tight hole. John pushed his big prong inside me clear to my colon
then waited a few moments.

      `Since this is the last time and you can't raise your price, I just
wanted to tell you you've got the nicest hole I've ever been in and there's
been at least a dozen since I was eight.'

      I pulled his ear down to my lips. `The truth. Anybody ever fuck you?'

      "Don't ever repeat this but another kid did when I was nine but just
a few times. I did him too."

      "You like it?"

      He laughed softly. "Yeah, but I was just nine like I said." I wasn't
sure what that was supposed to mean.

      His cock pulled out to the tip and slowly bulled its way back in. I
pulled his ear back down.

      "You feel the best of all of them but don't you say anything either."

      He made me feel great again.

      Steve went last, fucking me slow and gentle as promised. I pushed my
ass up at him so get as much cock inside as possible. He gripped my hips
and moved his ass side to side and he pumped into me. I pushed my hand to
my cock to be ready.

      "Can I go in just a little harder?" he asked.

      I nodded.

      He kept to the same pace but put more muscle into the end of each
thrust. It made me throb wonderfully inside. He shivered a moment later,
stiffened and throbbed, squirting those great gobs of cum into me. I
tweaked my dick and got off myself.

      Bert made no try for me. When I asked why, he said three big ones
were enough for one day. I pulled him back inside the clinic as we left and
kissed him right to his tonsils.

      Georgie hadn't gone to the school with me. He'd said he didn't want
to watch it any more. I got back as quickly as possible. We had over an
hour so went to our favorite park bench and talked about getting together
over the next nine months.

      "When's your first holiday?" I asked him.

      "I've been thinking about that. We've got two three day weekends then
Thanksgiving then Christmas. Columbus Day is October twelfth, which is a
Sunday, but we'll be out on Monday the thirteenth for that. We're supposed
to get Veteran's day, which will be the second weekend in November. So
that's three times we can get together before Christmas."

      "Okay, let's promise we'll visit each other those times. I'll see
what my father's like when he comes next week and I'll call you. You talk
to your mother and make sure you won't have to see your father on any of
those."

      "Don't worry. He doesn't really care if I come or not. He just does
it to piss off mom. If I have to I can tell mom I'm visiting him. She won't
know and he'll say okay."

      I hugged him.

      "C'mon, Malcolm, don't go getting all mushy. We still got three days,
two and a half, almost."

      Wednesday morning after football, I sneaked away from basketball with
Georgie and went for a slow run. He was getting to where he could keep up
with me the entire route. We went to the showers carrying fresh clothes and
towels. There was no one else there. I convinced him to let me wash him. He
was so small compared to me at that point. I felt brotherly toward him,
responsible. I would have to do whatever was necessary to get him down to
my city as often as possible even if it meant housing him with Martin or
Bobby. Going to his place might be difficult if not impossible.

      We spent the three hours after dinner outside the entry road in a
tree we found climbable and comfortable. We talked more about our families,
Bobby's business that Freddy had discussed, how crappy Georgie's school was
and why I liked to get fucked so much.

      "It just feels good and I like to feel and see all those neat bodies
and dicks. Tomorrow, Charley's coming. He is so beautiful and fucks so
great. I wish he lived near us."

      "I think," said Georgie seriously, "you're gonna mess up your rectum
or get some disease. I'll bet if a doctor checked it he'd find scrapes and
cuts and all kinds of broken things inside. But the kind of doctor you
really need is a psychiatrist to see why you always want so many dicks in
you."

      "What if you could have eight different girls in one day?"

      "That'll never happen."

      "But what if you could?"

      He frowned, but pensively. "I don't know. It's not the same. Girls
aren't like that."

      "Okay, but if they were?"

      "It's still different. Girls can't fuck me, well, they can but I'd
have to cum each time because I'm putting something in them instead of them
putting something in me. With boys, they cum in you. You don't have to cum
when they fuck you. It's all different."

      "You could stick your finger and your tongue inside them. The kids in
my school say they do that. What if you could do that with eight girls."

      Georgie laughed. "And they paid me?"

      "Tsk, Georgie, be serious."

      "All right. Eight girls, pretty girls. I suppose so but they'd never
do it. Girls aren't that way."

      "Hmmm. I'd like to watch eight boys fucking eight girls," I said,
"That'd be neat."

      Wednesday afternoon, I finished off Bert's group with Jerry, Pinky
and Charley. I insisted everyone do it naked and at least try it from the
front. My goal was to watch beautiful Charley's cock sliding in and out of
me and his magnificent torso while he did it.

      Jerry was not only game, he really got into it, bouncing his skinny
hips up and down, dripping sweat from his brow before he finally came.

      Pinky, bless him, wanted a blow job, standing up as we'd done it that
first time back in June with me sitting and him standing on the toilet seat
in the cabin bathroom. I sat on a little short stool at the foot of the
examination table and Pinky leaned over me with his hands on the leather
padding. He pumped and I held onto his hips and sucked. He bounced up and
down on his toes as he pumped his delicious juice into my mouth. It would
have been nice to bottle that like Bobby did his soups.

      Charley flashed his blue eyes at me and asked me to stay where I was
for a few minutes and blow him. As he got close, I noticed a handful of
soft, fluffy hairs growing out at the base of his cock, his first pubic
hairs, fortunately at the end rather than the beginning of the summer. I
ran my hand down those magnificent pelvic grooves and lifted his cock and
balls. First, I sucked on those two plump cherries and massaged the insides
of his thighs. I ran my tongue up and down the soft underside of his cock
then closed my lips around the head. He leaned over as had Pinky,
supporting himself with extended arms on the examination table. I ran my
hands around to his muscular buns and pulled him back and forth, in and out
of my mouth. He touched the back of my head with his hand but just held it
there gently. I would have really loved to taste his sperm but wanted more
to watch him fuck me. After a few moments, I let go and got on my back on
the table.

      He oiled up his cock. I pulled my legs up and presented my anus. With
his tongue between his teeth and his blonde head hanging down to my
forehead, he pressed his cockhead against my pucker and pushed forward. I
watched it pop inside then the shaft disappear slowly behind it. He pushed
against then past my prostate. His bare crotch lay against me. He dug his
toes into the leather of the table and pulled out until the head pulled at
the flesh around my hole. He dropped his hips down and slipped back in. His
abdominal muscles flexed, his pelvic V stood out. The view was
incredible. My hard little cock was pointed at my navel.

	All I could see of his face was the tip of his nose and his tongue,
still stuck out between his teeth. With each thrust, his cockhead nosed
down inside me, not just hitting but massaging my sweet spot and pushing my
rectum up and down. The feeling of movement spread the great sensation
throughout my groin. When he pulled out, I could see his thigh muscles
flexing. He looked up at me, smiling with his baby blues, and said, "This
is hard work."

	Just don't stop, I thought.

	He adjusted forward forcing my hips higher. I pulled my legs tight
against my sides. He fucked harder, banging me down into the table with
each powerful thrust. His chest was heaving. I wanted to caress it but had
to hold on to my legs. He went, "mmmph, mmmph" time and again then made a
short groan and rammed hard into me. The pulsing was strong. I could almost
feel the sperm shooting into me. I grabbed my cock and went up and down
three times. My head spun as I shook with my own orgasm. Charley fell to
his knees, dragging my rear down with him. I let go of my legs and grabbed
his ass, holding him inside.

      We grinned at each other. Sweat matted some of his blond hair to his
forehead. Even his neck was damp. He pulled out of me and slid down to the
floor. For some unknown reason, something instinctual I suppose, I followed
him off the end, lifted his left arm and licked the salt sweat from his
underarm. He shrugged his shoulders at the others and offered the other. I
obliged and hugged him. He hugged back briefly then washed up at the sink
in the bathroom while I dropped his load into the john.

      They left eight dollars on the instrument table. I took a last look
at the room where I'd had so much wonderful sex and left to find
Georgie. Bert came rushing in the school door as I walked down the hall.

      "You got time for me?"

      He wanted to do a sixty-nine. After some tongue to tongue, we lay
side by side on the examination table and sucked each other to fruition. I
had um just ten minutes before so he had to keep working a while he filled
my mouth with his ejaculation.

      "Can I come tomorrow night after lights out?"

      It seemed okay though I thought we'd do it on the floor so Georgie
wouldn't know.

      Thursday afternoon, Georgie and I skipped out of volleyball and went
up to the rocks. We got naked and enjoyed the air on our skin while we
discussed the value of school and changes that needed to be made. It wasn't
really a discussion since Georgie did most of the talking. I was happy to
listen and watch his tough little body as he walked back and forth.

      At one point, he stopped and asked, "We can get like this down by
your stream, right?"

      "Uh huh but there's not much sun `cause of all the trees."

      He nodded and went on about how even little kids should be taught
about politics so they could talk to their parents and keep them from
electing military presidents. I had no idea what he had against General
Eisenhower.

      We never took advantage of our nudity to unite bodies that
afternoon. A couple of times we sat together and I hugged him to me, even
kissed his cheek but it never got beyond that. Just before we left, fully
clothed again, Georgie hugged me very tightly for at least a full minute. I
noticed I could see across the top of his head.

      That night, Butch came by and called me out front of the cabin to
tell me his mother had called and given permission for him to come home
with us in the morning. When he said, "in the morning", I realized my time
with Georgie was getting very short. We'd been reading to one another out
of Stanley's books. I ran back in and got into my pajamas. He watched me
and quickly did the same. Somewhere in the back of my head was a fear I'd
never see him again.

      We got under the covers in my bottom bunk, the last time we'd be
doing that, and read to each other until lights out. Ignoring the eyes of
others, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth. He
let me for maybe ten seconds then turned his head and embraced me too.

      "Don't you dare forget to call me Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest,
okay?"

      "I will call you. I promise, cross my heart. I love you."

      "Me too."

      I can't imagine our master not getting the wrong idea about Georgie
when he saw us like that as he must have. We were quickly asleep. When Bert
awakened me at sometime after eleven, I was still wrapped around Georgie.

      He pulled the blanket and pillow off my bunk and led me by the hand
to the bathroom. He was in his pajamas and slippers. I wasn't entirely
awake and nearly stumbled and fell halfway there, falling against a bunk,
waking myself up.

      Bert closed the door quietly putting us into pitch black.

      "Take off your pajamas," he whispered.

      I did. When he pulled me down to him, he too was completely naked. We
kissed for a while. I was still a bit groggy so probably wasn't the best of
lovers. Bert slipped down me, licking as he went and sucked on my peter for
a while though not taking me all the way. I heard a jar being opened. I was
going to be fucked.

      He rolled me over gently and got on top of me. I felt his oily finger
seek out my hole and then his cock head press against it. There was the
sound of toilet paper against fingers then he lay full on me, his hands
over my shoulders, and nudged his cock head inside my anus. He took my head
in his hands and turned me to the side. His lips found mine. His tongue
went into my mouth as his dick slipped up inside me. I sucked on his tongue
as he pushed past my prostate.

      He kissed and caressed my hair and face as he pumped lazily into me.

      The bathroom door opened and the light came on. I was blinded and
frightened.

      A small voice said, "Christ!" The light went out. "Sorry. I just
gotta pee."

      There was the sound of pee going into the long urinal then bare feet
going to the door and out. The door was closed. I had no idea who it was.

      Bert continued fucking and kissing and caressing as though nothing
had happened. It took him at least ten minutes to cum. He grunted into my
mouth and shook a little then pulsed inside of me.

      We lay like that for a while then he said, "You're not coming back
next year, are you?"

      "I don't think so."

      "I'm gonna miss you a lot. You're the neatest kid I've ever met."

      I caressed his face.

      "You've got the greatest ass, too," he added with a short laugh. "I'm
gonna miss it too."

      "You've got plenty at your school."

      "They're a bunch of pansies. You're a real boy."

      He pumped into me a few times, sighed, and pulled slowly out.

      "You see who it was?" he asked.

      "Unh uh."

      "Didn't seem to be a big deal to him. Wasn't Georgie, was it?"

      "Unh uh."

      He pulled me into his lap and hugged me. "I'm really gonna miss
you. I mean it."

      "Me too."

      "Really?"

      "Yeah. You're kinda neat too. Got all those kids doing whatever you
say."

      "It's because they're wimps, even Steve."

      "Maybe you'll be president one day."

      "Maybe."

      We hugged and kissed. I found my pajamas and dressed. We hugged and
kissed again. He left. I went back to bed. Georgie put his arms around me
when I got back in.

      Friday morning, everyone packed, exchanged telephone numbers and
addresses. I watched for someone to look at me with a knowing expression
but no one did. One of those kids knew a lot more about me than most others
but he was, at least then, keeping it to himself.

      Larry came by and made sure I had his address and phone number in
Cincinnati. I doubted I'd ever see him again but planned to call or write
or both.

      Master Gorman gave me a pat on the head and said goodbye.

      I walked with Georgie to his bus, carrying two of his three
suitcases. We hadn't said much to each other all morning. Two of the
younger masters loaded the suitcases onto the bus. A few of the kids from
our cabin and a couple from Bert's said goodbye. The next to smallest boy
from our cabin, a skinny kid who'd been in the academic program and studied
a lot, came up to us, smiled and winked.

      "What?" asked Georgie.

      "I'll never tell," said the boy conspiratorially.

      I smiled back and said, "Thanks."

      Georgie asked again, "What?"

      He got on Georgie's bus and sat by a window on our side. I pointed at
Georgie and nodded affirmatively. I motioned he should save a seat for
Georgie. He nodded understanding.

      "Ask him when you get on."

      I hugged him and said, "I promise I'll call you, no matter what."

      "You better."

      He left. He and the other boy waved from the window. They
talked. Georgie looked out at me and shook his head. They both laughed.

      Butch and I were two of only about a dozen boys when my grandfather
arrived at eleven. Freddy helped me load my and Butch's trunks on the roof
rack of my grandfather's Chrysler.

      The three of us sat in the back and gabbed all the way home.