The following contains scenes of sexual activity between males. If you find this offensive or if it is illegal for you to read this in your community or jurisdiction, please do not do so. The author does not condone the violation of any law.

Thank you for your response to Chapter Three. I am pleased that most of you have such faith in me.

And, now:

I could not believe that Brad McKenzie and I were doing it in my bed. He was so hot and I was crazed. We fell into the bed, our arms wrapped around each other, our legs entangled, our mouths hungrily devouring each other as we groaned and moaned and cried out in frenzied lust. His boner pressed into my abdomen and his hips kept fucking into me. Our bodies rubbed furiously against each other. It was almost as if we were wrestling. I would push against him in one place, he would push back, and thrust somewhere else. He would bite my neck and suck so hard I would cry out. Then I would grab his ass and squeeze until he groaned, when he would then roll me over on my back and grin in my face. It was hot!

I pushed him back over on his back and sat back on his hips, looking down at him. He was panting and looking at me with such lust in his face. I took his hands in my left hand, holding them above his head as I would tickle him. Then I bent down and licked under him arm, the manly taste of a horny teenager intoxicating me more than the beer and pot. Brad moaned and writhed under me. I moved to his other arm, licking wildly, bathing the hair with my saliva, eliciting more groans. Then, I moved across his chest and sucked his right nipple into my mouth. I ran my tongue feverishly across it and he cried out.

"Ah, fuck!"

I worked on the other one and Brad let out with a string of lust-crazed profanities as he bucked his chest upwards and grabbed my head, forcing my face down hard on his chest.

My mouth worked over his stomach and as I moved between his legs, he opened them wide. His cock was still as rigid and throbbing as before and I wanted to take it in my mouth again. Instead, I moved my face down to his balls and licked and sucked them hungrily, eliciting more crazed babbling.

Suddenly, Brad sat up and pushed me down on my back. He dove between my legs and took my cock in his mouth. I was not expecting that and his mouth was amazing. He grabbed his own cock and started jacking it wildly as he sucked me and when it was too much and I exploded in his mouth, he shot all over my sheet.

We sat staring at each other, trying to catch out breath, for some time until Brad finally grinned and said, "Man, you are something' else."

I grinned in response. "You are too."

I moved up and lay my head on the pillow and signaled for him to join me. He crawled up my body and gave me that sexy grin again as he pulled the covers over us. We wrapped our arms around each other again and just lay there, holding each other and looking into each other's face.

"Man, I never thought I do something like this with another dude," he said softly. "I mean, guys blow me and fuck me, but they pay me and its not like I do anything to them. But, man, Steve, you turn me on wicked."

I couldn't say anything. The look of happiness in the kid's face and the wonder and gratitude in his voice were so incongruous with the image of the tough street punk. I knew he meant it. I felt it, too. He was so hot and I had found something really human inside him. He was holding me and seemed truly happy. I was happy. I had found the humanity inside him and it made me want him more.

And, then, I died.

Davy.

What about Davy?

I loved Davy.

I loved every moment I spent with Davy. I loved holding my sweet angel in my arms and cuddling with him. I loved to watch the sunsets at Canterbury Lake as I held him. I loved to watch the leaves fall on College Hill as we strolled along the pathways. I loved to watch the snow fall as we snuggled in bed. I loved the way he cried as I brought him to orgasm. I loved his generosity, his empathy, his sympathy, his honesty, his integrity. I loved everything about Davy Goldstein.

And, here I was, drunk and stoned and horny and holding Brad McKenzie in my arms and wondering how to reconcile my feelings.

I did it by passing out.

The next morning, I awoke with my cock as hard as steel and Brad breathing and licking on my neck and slowly, teasingly stroking me.

"Ah, yeah," I groaned as I rolled toward him and took his own rock hard boner in my hand. Slowly, gazing into each other's eyes, we jacked each other off until we shot in each other's hand.

When we had recovered again, he gave that grin and I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. He pressed back and soon our tongues were exploring each other's mouth. He pulled back and said, "You passed."

I smiled curiously and asked, "What do you mean?"

Brad rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling.

"Man, I ain't never nothing' like this before. I mean, I let guys blow me and fuck me, but its always them that does the queer shit. I don't do it. I ain't gay. But, Steve, man, you like turn me on like nobody's business. You are so fucking hot and you are so cool. I've spent the night with guys before and at night they're like all lovey and hot and huggy and then, the morning, they can't wait for ya to get your ass out of their bed. You didn't do that. You treat me like a person. You're real."

I smiled and we lay there for a while longer, just enjoying the warmth of each other, the closeness.

I looked behind me at the clock.

"Oh, heck! Its after ten!"

I sat up.

"What's the matter?" Brad asked. "Ya gotta be at work?"

"No! I have to go to church. Its at eleven."

Brad snorted.

"Church on Saturday?"

"What are you talking about?" I demanded as I jumped up naked. "Its Sunday."

Brad laughed.

"No, it ain't. Its Saturday."

I looked at him as if he were crazy. Then, I realized he was right. The holidays had my schedule all discombobulated in my head. I sighed and sat back down on the bed.

"What a relief!" I grinned at Brad, who grinned back. "I feel like such an idiot."

So, I crawled back under the covers and we tangled ourselves back up again.

"That's really cool, too," I added, "because Davy won't be back 'till tomorrow night."

As soon as I said it, I felt as if a knife had just pierced my heart. I was fucking around behind the little guy's back and I was relieved I had another day to do it. Suddenly, I felt like shit. I was such a jerk. I was such a lowlife.

My words must have had a similar effect on Brad because I suddenly felt him stiffen and he pulled back. The look of guilt and shame on my face must also have hurt him.

"Oh, yeah," he whispered hollowly. "I forgot about Freakle,"

The bitterness in his voice tore at me.

"I suppose you won't be seein' much of me then, will ya."

I was dying inside. The disappointment in Brad's voice, the pain, was agonizingly apparent. But, I could see he was rebuilding the wall he had torn down. His face was slowly reverting back to the hardened look of the street kid who doesn't trust anyone.

"Brad, he... he lives with me. I love him."

"Yeah. Well, you know, I just thought like, you know, I don't love ya or anything queer like that. But, I thought, like, you know, you and me could, well, you know, like... like hang or sompm. You know?"

He sat up, pushed the cover back and crawled out of bed. He stood by the desk naked, looking so beautiful, so vulnerable, so tough.

"Well, I gotta go. Twenty-five bucks, dude."

I slowly crawled out of bed, feeling like such a cad. I pulled my wallet from the back pocket on my jeans on the floor and handed Brad my Christmas bonus. He stuffed it in the jeans and pulled his tee-shirt on.

I couldn't take it. He was about to sit down to put his filthy socks and boots back on. I took him in my arms and held him. He looked down, the same way Davy did when I held him.

"Don't man," he said softly. "I'm not like that. I don't..."

Then, he melted against me.

"Brad, you are my friend and we will be friends."

I held him tightly and then he pulled away and, with embarrassment, sat down and pulled his socks on.

"Hey, we have an entire day. Let's go grab a bite at the diner on Main Street."

Brad looked at me for a moment and then smiled.

"OK. I'll buy."

"Good," I replied, "'cause I don't have anymore money!"

We ate a good breakfast at the diner and then went walking in the sunshine. The town was slowly coming back to life and the snow was still piled high everywhere. But, the sunshine made it look so pure and crystalline. We walked around campus, stopped at the arcade just south of campus and played foosball, (Brad kicked my ass). We strolled up First Street past St. Andrew's Church and passed Mrs. Runnymede as she drove by in her perfectly preserved old Chrysler Imperial. I waived; she gave a disapproving nod and drove on. As we came back to the driveway, Brad stopped and said, "So, you wanna freebee tonight?"

I grinned.

"I want a bunch of freebees tonight!"

Brad chuckled.

"Listen, man, I gotta go do sompm. I'll be back."

"Cool. If I'm not here, just go on inside."

He nodded and grinned, evidently pleased that I trusted him, and turned to walk back east. Nicky's Volkswagen turned the corner just then. He and Jamie stared in shock as Brad nodded to them and trudged on.

"Hey, was that Brad McKenzie?" Nicky asked as the Beetle stopped in the driveway even with me on the sidewalk.

I grinned.

"Yeah."

Nicky and Jamie both looked at me closely, then suddenly realization dawned on both their faces.

"Holy shit!" Nicky exclaimed. "You got it last night. You got it on with Brad fucking McKenzie!"

"Oh, my God," Jamie muttered.

I nodded.

"Listen, you can't tell anyone. You understand?"

"Fuck! I can't believe it! McKenzie's gay?"

"Listen. Stop. I have to explain."

"Well, get in and come drink a beer at the place and tell us!"

I crawled into the tight backseat and Nicky pulled out of the driveway. As we headed east toward the restaurant and Nicky's apartment, we passed Brad.

"Hey, stop!" I said.

Nicky looked at me through the rearview mirror as if I were crazy.

I rolled down my window.

"Hey, Brad! You want a ride to where ever you're going?"

Brad started to smile and then his face fell.

"Naw, that's OK. Thanks anyway."

"Aw, come on, man. We can give you a ride. Its too cold."

Brad shook his head.

"We just walked all over town. I can handle it. Its OK."

Brad started off again and, then, Nicky surprised me by rolling down his window.

"Come on, McKenzie, you punk! Quit being a dick and get in," he declared with his Nicky grin. "Come over and have a beer with us!"

Brad started to give his usual look of hostility and then surprise overtook his face. He shrugged and said, "OK."

He trudged around to the other side and squeezed in behind Jamie.

As we began to slowly chug up Third Street, Nicky looked back and grinned. "So where we going?"

"Second and Ford," Brad mumbled.

Nicky and Jamie gave each other dubious looks. I assumed it was on the other side of the tracks, but I didn't realize just how scary it was until we arrived. On the way, Brad remained silent, maintaining his `hard ass" persona. Nicky tried to fill in the silence by asking, "So, Pizza Hut, what'd ya do last night?"

I grinned guiltily and replied, "Well, I went to the Queen of Diamonds."

"What?" Nicky and Jamie both exclaimed as they both turned around to look at me with shock.

"Look out!" I yelled as the Beetle started to drift toward a new Trans Am parked in the street.

Nicky quickly recovered and muttered, "Maybe we should wait to talk about this until we get to the apartment!"

Crossing the tracks on Third Street was like going to a completely different town. The neat houses and clean streets of Canterbury drastically changed. The houses looked, in some cases, like shanties. In others, they were bungalows with little or no paint. There was junk in front of a lot of the houses, refrigerators, old cars, box springs. The streets had not been plowed very well and the going, even in the Beetle with its excellent rear traction, was tough.

We came to Ford Street and a house that had, at one time, been painted white. The screen door on the front was missing and there was cardboard in a couple of window pains. Even under a foot of snow, I could tell there was nothing in the yard, though a solitary tree trunk with most of its limbs and branches either broken or cut off stood sentry over the desolate scene.

Brad said, "This is it," as Nicky stopped. Jamie climbed out, allow brad to exit. "I'll be back in a minute."

As he stomped up to the rickety porch, I looked nervously at a couple of tough looking men two houses down were standing motionless and watching. They were dressed in torn up coats and had scruffy beards.

"What's he doing?" Jamie asked as he climbed back in and locked the door.

"I don't know," I replied as he kicked and beat on the front door. After a few minutes, it opened and Brad disappeared inside. We sat in silence, Nicky and Davy looking at the house as I warily watched the two men up the street start to walk ominously toward us.

Jamie was visibly getting nervous when, suddenly brad burst from the front door. He stopped at the foot of the wooden steps leading up to the porch, turned back to the open front door and yelled, "Yeah? Well, fuck you, bitch! You're nothing' but a fuckin' whore anyway! Fuck you!"

The two men yelled something at Brad as he stormed back to the Volkswagen. He looked at them as Jamie opened the door and leaned forward, obviously afraid to get out to let Brad in. Brad yelled, "Eat shit, Hollis!"

He climbed into the backseat and before Jamie could close the door, Nicky was gunning the motor and the Beetle was suddenly speeding the snow and the two men yelled obscenities and chased the car. We were two blocks away before Nicky turned south toward Main Street. Brad was looking back at the two as they waived angry fists and shouted deprecations. I was heroically trying not to evacuate my bladder.

Once we were safely on Main Street, Nicky looked back at a cheerful Brad and demanded, "What the FUCK was that?"

"Ah, it was nothin'," Brad replied with a grin.

"Nothin'?!" Nicky demanded as he ran the red light at Front Street.

"Shit," Brad spat. "You turnin' pussy? Dude, you kicked the shit outa three guys after the Harpersville game last year. I saw it! Man, you rocked!"

Jamie looked at Nicky with as much surprise as I did.

"And, fuck! What about that swirly you gave that pussy Brad Carson?"

Jamie raised a suspicious eyebrow. Nicky was clearly not enjoying this romp down memory lane.

"It was during the 3-A basketball semifinals when we were playing Zenith Southside," Nicky explained to Jamie. "You know the Carsons. Brad's this serious fag weinie who was always prancing' around and insulting everyone just because his grandmother owns half the fuckin' town. He had it comin'."

"You jammed his head in the toilet?" Jamie demanded.

"And, flushed it! Yeah! It was fuckin' great!"
"Yeah," Brad cheered as the Beetle turned into the alley. "Ya shoulda seen it!"

"You were there?" Nicky asked with a thrill.

"Fuck yeah! It was great!"

As the Beetle came to a stop by the Mancinelli dumpster, Brad looked around with suspicion.

"Why we stoppin' here?"

"We live here!" Nicky exclaimed and opened his door.

Brad looked at the iron fire escape and grinned.

"Cool."

Brad and I followed Nicky and Jamie up the fire escape and soon were sprawled in Nicky's apartment. The others were drinking beer; I settled for a tomato juice.

"So, Pizza Hut, what's the story?" Nicky asked as he put a Led Zeppelin album on. I cringed.

"Well, I was out walking down Main Street last night and I got to campus and I remembered everyone talking about the Queen of Diamonds the other day and there it was and so I thought I would check it out."

"Yeah?" Nicky asked with a leer. "So what happened?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Nothing. Its really not anything special. It just seems like any bar. Of course, I've never been in a bar before, but it just seemed like I would imagine a bar to be like."

"Did anyone try to put the moves on ya?"

"Well..."

"Ah!" Nicky and Jamie both exclaimed with grins while Brad looked positively terrified.

"Some guy was kinda flirty in the bathroom, but I left immediately and came home."

"Aww, you woosie."

Brad looked relieved. Of course, though, I still had to explain him to Nicky and Jamie.

"So, Brad," said Nicky pulling out his bong from behind the couch. "You want to indulge?"

"Fuck yeah! Fact, I'll even contribute!"

And, with that, he pulled a baggy filled with pot from out of his jacket pocket. That must have been why we stopped at his place.

"Aw right!" Nicky exclaimed. Jamie smiled, but it seemed he wasn't as enthused as Nicky.

When Brad had loaded the bong, he held it out to me. Nicky laughed.

"Man, you'll never get that Boy Scout high!"

Brad chuckled. "Ya shoulda seen him last night!"

The look of surprise on Nicky's and Jamie's faces to Brad's comment was almost as great as that on Brad's when I passed the bong to Jamie.

Jamie took a hit, followed by Nicky and as Brad was taking his, Nicky looked at the two of us and said, "OK. I gotta know. What's the biggest Republican in Canterbury doing getting high with one of the biggest hard-asses in Canterbury?"

Brad shrugged and said, "We just wanted to party? What's the big deal?"

Nicky looked at me suspiciously. When I was a kid, my parents could always tell when something was up by the way my face revealed my discomfort or my nerves. I knew I wasn't doing a very good job of acting cool."

"Come on, Pizza Hut. What gives?"

I looked at Brad, who was frowning.

"Listen, Brad," I said. "Nicky and Jamie are my two best friends and I would trust them with my life. You can trust them. In fact, they're boyfriends."

Brad suddenly looked at Nicky with shock and outrage.

"Manci! You're a fag?"

"Brad," I said with a warning tone as Nicky suddenly looked serious. I saw his fists suddenly tense.

Brad looked down at the carpet and then took another hit from the bong. I was starting to think that maybe I should take one, but I finished off my tomato juice instead.

"Brad, its OK. They're good guys. Its cool. Really."

Nicky seemed to sense the turmoil in Brad. The shame, fear, and anger inside the boy all seemed to storm across his face, only to be replaced by resignation.

"Brad, man, talk to me," said Nicky.

Brad looked at me as if he were going to cry. It was so different from the tough guy image, and yet, it seemed to be there all along.

"Brad and I met outside The Queen of Diamonds as I was leaving."

"What? You were there to beat up the gays?" Nicky asked suspiciously.

"Naw!" Brad replied.

In the silence that followed this, Nicky and Jamie both looked blank and, then, realization dawn on them at the same time.

"Oh!"

"I'm not a fag. But, I let fags blow me for a few bucks. Its, like, the only way I can eat sometimes."

Brad said this softly and lowered his head, the humiliation almost too great for him.

Nicky and Jamie were silent, evidently the shock of learning the great hard-ass Brad McKenzie was a hustler was quite an intense shock.

"Why?" Nicky asked in a soft yet awestruck voice. Brad sighed.

"Well, fuck. I ain't got no dad. My mom's a whore and all her dough goes for booze and blow. I gotta eat. I can't get no job cuz no one'll hire shit like me."

Suddenly I saw a look of agony across Jamie's face. I knew what was happening. Jamie was reliving his own hell from earlier, a hell from which we had helped him escape.

"Brad, my old man used to beat me and call me shit and... and... he raped me once. Listen, I know what you're going through. I'll be your friend, man. We all will."

Brad suddenly stood up with outrage.

"Fuck this shit, man. I don't need a bunch of fags to feel sorry for me!"

He stormed to the door and yelled, "I don't need you're fuckin' sympathy! I can take care a myself fine!"

He slammed the door. I started to jump up and follow, but Jamie took my arm and stopped me.

"Let him go, Stevie. He needs to think. He'll be OK. He's just hurt and embarrassed. Its hard to admit stuff sometimes. I know."

There were tears in Jamie's eyes. I reached over and put my arm around him. Nicky stood and put his arms around both of us and we just stood there, sharing our feelings.

I didn't have any beer and we just sat around for the rest of the afternoon, talking and listening to music. After another meal of Mrs. Mancinelli's leftovers, I walked home in the early evening darkness. This time I avoided Main Street and went straight home. I spent the evening reading and listening to sixties piano jazz. At eleven thirty, I turned on my little black and white portable television, but just as Chevy Chase was crashing to the floor in his hilarious impression of President Ford and announcing, "Live from New York, It's Saturday Night!" I heard a nock on my door.

Brad was looking sheepish and lightly stoned. Silently, I let him in and he stood shyly by the bathroom door and muttered, "I promised ya a freebee, tonight."

I smiled sadly at him.

"You don't have to, Brad."

He looked at the floor and shuffled his feet.

"Oh, well. OK. Sorry."

He started for the door, but I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I said you don't have to. I didn't say I didn't want to."

Brad stopped and looked at the floor. I could see a struggle and, then, slowly he turned and looked at me. His brown eyes looked up at me. I moved to him and put my arms around him. At first, he stiffened; and, then, he gradually let go, leaned against me, and rested his head against my shoulder.