Copyright© 2016 – Nicholas Hall
“It takes, in reality, only one to make a quarrel. It is useless for the sheep to pass resolutions in favor of vegetarianism, while the wolf remains of a different opinion.”
(William Ralph Inge)
The afternoon sky was dark, menacing, threatening in a roiling, rumbling way, portending a thunderstorm of massive proportions or perhaps a tornado as often can be the case in this part of Iowa in August. School would resume after summer vacation in two weeks; Aidan and I took the afternoon off to get the boys enrolled and registered for classes for another school year in, for them and me; a new school!
Aidan took Carlos and Luis to the elementary wing to enroll Luis and to the middle school wing to enroll Carlos while I shepherded the older boys to the high school guidance office in the high school wing to enroll and register them. This’d be Manny’s first year of high school but it didn’t seem to concern him any. I think he’d seen his brother and cousins enter and survive without too many problems so he figured he could do the same. It’s remarkable how minority children and those whose sexual orientation might be different from his or her fellows soon learn to keep a low profile and watch each other’s backs.
While the boys worked through the paper work, I met with the high school principal, received my class assignments, picked up the necessary textbooks so I could prepare my lesson plans, and became acquainted with the office staff. After receiving the necessary papers for Estele and Carissa to sign authorizing transfer of records from their previous school to here, purchasing lunch tickets for all eight boys, buying activity tickets for all, incidental fees (textbook rental, fine arts supplies, etc.), and paying for school regulation gym shorts and t-shirts (two for each lad, except Luis and Carlos where there were no regulations concerning dress for physical education), it was almost four o’clock in the afternoon.
I thought the admission process went smoother than I thought it might, given the migrant status and history of the boys, but any concerns I might’ve had were answered when one of the front office secretaries, greeted Aidan when he met us in the Superintendent’s office prior to leaving.
“Hi, Aidan,” she greeted cheerily and with familiarity, “How’s Aunt Marian and Uncle Steve?”
I swear, the Morgan’s must breed like rabbits (well, at least one I am intimately familiar with seems to have that trait)! I was later to learn five of the seven school board members were either a Morgan, married to one, or worked for Avery in some capacity!
The storm held off; lightning punctuating the dark sky off in the distance, sending bolts of white light flashing, illuminating the gathering thunderheads in the night sky, as bed time approached. Distant thunder accompanying the sharp bolts of lightning caused me to wish the damned storm would miss us.
The house was quiet, the busy day having taken its toll, and sleep with its refreshing and replenishing vigor, settled about us all. A sizzling, whistling, “SNAP” followed immediately with a loud “BANG,” signaling a lightning strike not too far distant from the house, startled Aidan and me out of our weary stupor, and brought us both upright in bed! A scream emanated from Chance’s room and, about to get out of bed and check on him, Aidan quickly grabbed my arm.
“It’s only Chance,” he advised, “let Tommy handle it!”
No sooner said, than I heard feet, many of them, racing down a very dark hall in that direction, with frantic calls from Alex inquiring if Uncle Chance was okay, followed by the scampering, footfalls of two little boys, coming through the shared bathroom, and darting under the covers with Aidan and me.
“We don’t like storms!” chattered Luis, his naked, shivering body quickly stretching out on mine, while Carlos made himself comfortable on top of Aidan!
The power flickered and came back on, perhaps from the lightning strike or the storm in general, but there was no need for electricity at this time, the storm was providing illumination. I thanked the Powers that Be there was no wind!
Our bedroom door opened and six very naked teen boys entered, stood by our bed, and announced the screaming was “Uncle Chance, but Uncle Tommy calmed him down.”
In the lightning flashes, I couldn’t help but admire the six nicely formed and larger than average uncut cocks parading before us! When Javier reached down and casually scratched his balls, I wondered, with skepticism, how Efrain ever managed to accommodate such a gift. As the boys left the room, my eyes rested on each of the nice, firm, round butts on each one of them. Our boys were beautiful in every way and would appeal to those who might be interested.
Luis, laying prone on top of me, little naked body nestled on my equally naked self, wiggled first his right big toe under one of my balls and the left big toe under the other.
“Your balls feel funny on my big toes,” he announced.
“Well, your pecker feels funny on my tummy!”
“You ought to lay over here,” muttered Carlos, “feels like laying on a baseball bat reaching from my balls to above my belly button.”
“Want to move?” questioned Aidan.
Little boy snores bubbled against my chest minutes after the discussion of balls and cocks ceased. Laying there, I discerned, from the lack of noise, the entire house appeared to have descended again into the Land of Nod. Everyone, that is, except me! For the damnedest reason, I just couldn’t go back to sleep! The others in my bed were zonked out; Luis sprawled out on me, mouth drooling, his little uncut pecker inflating slightly as those of a small boy (and large ones) often do; Carlos happily snoozing on Aidan, evidently unbothered by the “baseball bat” gouging his stomach; Aidan, mouth agape, oblivious to the rest of the world. The thought momentarily crossed my mind, if the little boys weren’t present, I’d take advantage of that warm, moist orifice of his. Alas, it was not to be!
Carefully sliding Luis off of me so I could get up and perhaps find a snack or something in the kitchen, I saw I really upset his sleep by doing so. He promptly did a “puppy snuggle” and burrowed his head under Aidan’s arm, pressing his warm little body up against his.
After slipping on some shorts, I quietly navigated the stairs and headed toward the kitchen. I noticed the door to the basement was open and a light was shining up the stairs from its depth. Curiosity led me down the stairs, wanting to know who else would be up at such an hour. Through the large family room Avery was in the process of having remodeled and refurbished, past the small hall leading to the door to the tunnel to the storm cellar, I stopped by the door jamb of Avery’s office, from which the light originated, and gave a soft “rap!”
Avery waved me in, greeting me from behind his desk; “Couldn’t sleep either?” he quipped with a soft chuckle.
I just shook my head and sat down in a chair facing his desk and him.
“Chance has one of these ‘episodes’ every now and then at night, especially when a violent storm, such as we’re having now, with loud, sharp cracks of lightning and booming thunder stirs deep seated memories inside him,” he explained. “although it’s been a year or two! Not to worry though, Tommy can handle it and calm him down!”
“You know,” Avery continued leaning back in his office chair, swinging his feet up on his desk, “Chance’s had two real bad experiences as a result of war and those experiences tend to erupt to the surface every now and then.”
He looked at me seriously, thoughtfully, almost demanding; “War changed his life; definitely changed mine, and now, whether you’re willing to admit it, is changing yours as result of becoming part of this family. You can’t escape it any more than Chance can or me. Those were terrible years and they still impact our lives.”
By 1939, according to Avery, the world was going to hell in a handbasket with Europe writhing in a bloody, destructive battle with Germany, the Far East embroiled in Japan’s conquests, and friends and relatives of the Morgan’s and others getting the shit bombed out of them in Britain! Those politicians and members of the public who advocated staying out of the war since it didn’t involve the United States, promoting neutrality, seemed to be closing their eyes to the facts. Robert’s warnings increased in severity and urgency in spite of the lack of clarion call for war at home. He felt, as did Avery, war would hit the homeland, sooner rather than later.
I must confess, my mind drifted as Avery spoke. I’d been in his private office, this inner sanctum, this place of decisions, of all things mysterious, of secrecy where all things Morgan seemed to be discussed and decided, with solutions arrived at, and actions taken, even the fate of mere mortals, on several occasions, but really hadn’t taken the time to examine it carefully! Security seemed to be tantamount, although not screaming at me, subtly constructed in every aspect of the office and the adjoining hall leading to the storm cellar.
The tunnel entrance door, leading from the basement to the connecting tunnel, was of solid oak, which I knew, and could be effectively barred from this end. The storm cellar access door from the outside, set at the bottom of a concrete stairway, was also of solid oak and could be barred from the inside. Replenishing the supplies in the cellar could be made through that access door and the house could be provisioned from the cellar through the tunnel without having to leave the house.
The walls in Avery’s office were richly paneled in what appeared to be either maple or hickory car siding, but the covered walls were quite thick, from what I could discern, constructed of reinforced poured concrete. The office door, equally thick, of oak, was reinforced with strong hinges, bolt locks, and if need be, barred with a steel bar. Continuing my surveillance of the room, sensing if this was indeed a “bolt hole,” there had to be another way out! Without getting up from seat and actually touching and viewing the walls up close, I failed to locate it.
Avery’s desk, centered facing the door, was constructed of walnut; behind him and it were several filing cabinets, a very large metal safe, several shelves, one holding a radio transmitter/receiver, numerous pictures of Chance, a few of Francisco, and others, I assumed were family members. One of an older woman I took to be his mother. On the desk, in addition to the usually writing materials, was a calculator, and two telephones.
The room also held a small refrigerator, a radio, television, microwave, a wet bar, ice maker, and several large bookcases attached to the walls where various ledger books, reference books, and some casual reading books. Besides my chair, there were two other identical ones facing the desk, a small conference table with three or four chairs, and a setae, with enough room for two people to sit comfortably. There was nothing in the room which may’ve led me to think, if this was a “bolt hole,” it was intended for long term occupancy.
I refocused my attention on Avery when he said, in response to my visual inspection of his office,
“I remodeled the office and other features down here prior to the start of World War II- more a response to ‘what if’ rather than actual happenings, but I’m glad I did; it serves my present and future purposes quite well.”
The walls were, as I suspected, of reinforced concrete, as was the ceiling, strong enough to survive anything but a direct hit by a very powerful bomb; certainly strong enough to resist entrance by any invading force, at least temporarily.
“In September of 1939,” he related, “England declared war on Germany and was joined by Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, and Canada. When Roosevelt declared U.S. neutrality,” he growled, “I figured the isolationists had a temporary victory, but not for long. Shit, telling Hitler he was a naughty boy made about as much sense as expressing surprise when a castrated dog produced no offspring!”
Avery had been heeding Robert’s warnings and taking note of those things he read in newspapers, magazines, and newspapers as well as newscasts, especially those of Edward R. Murrow broadcasting from London. Taking heed and precaution, he again stockpiled some cash (not that he needed to), diversified his investment portfolio to either add or increase holdings in aircraft manufacturing, railroads and railroad rolling stock, steel, automotive, oil, shipyards, and arms and ammunitions manufacturing. He was also wise enough to realize armies needed to eat and saw short-term profits in food production and preservation. However, he still kept a large part of his investments local, ready to purchase land or businesses as the opportunities arose.
“Just in case there were shortages,” he laughed, “I laid in a supply of shotgun shells, .22cal. rifle shells, 30/30 rifle shells, .38cal, and .45 cal. pistol cartridges. I already had several shotguns, pistols (including my little .410. double), and a couple of rifles, but I thought what the hell and added a pump 20ga shotgun, 12ga shotgun, a double 12 and double 20, a double .410 and pump 410, along with another .22 rifle, and a couple of .22 pistols. Hell, you’d have thought I was a stockowner in Winchester Arms or Remington or an outlet for the Rock Island Arsenal.”
He was, but also knew he wouldn’t have to buy all of his guns and didn’t. There were still those who’d supply him with what he wanted at no charge.
The U-boats, the German submarines, were increasing their attacks on shipping, trying to stave off any re-supplies the British might receive or war materials and equipment they might try to send. In 1940 Mussolini joined Hitler in the war against Britain and France. Shortly thereafter, Germany invaded Norway and Denmark. The war, “over there” was heating up; cities were being destroyed and people killed and maimed. Avery was not only concerned, but frightened as well!
Britain rationed butter, bacon, and sugar early in 1940 and Avery took note. He increased swine and beef production on his farms and encouraged others to do the same, along with some sheep for the wool and lambs for meat. He thought the local creamery might need to be expanded in light of more farmers, such as himself, adding more milk cows. The increased need for butter, cheese, and other milk products would be evident soon, he thought. If nothing else, the creamery could supply local and area needs. Eggs just might be at a premium as well, so he added more poultry pens and birds, again, encouraging others to do the same. The creamery could serve as a clearing site for sale of the eggs.
The additional livestock, increased poultry flocks, and added agricultural and home garden acreage necessitated additional help for him at home and on his farms. He reorganized his operation, making certain family members were hired as foremen over specific areas of production. Those areas, he reasoned, were livestock production which included swine, beef cattle, and sheep; row crop or grain production covering all soybeans, corn, wheat, oats, and rye; and general operations encompassing extra help, repair shop, hay production, poultry, and any other operational function on the farm. The foremen all reported directly to him. Avery sat in on all of the hiring of extra help, sorting out one or two on occasion to work on his farm, offering them a decent wage, for the times, meals and a place to live, along with other fringe benefits provided by him. If there was resistance to accepting or receiving his “benefits” the individual was given a bonus and sent off down the road. Avery was able to choose well and only had one individual who decided his ass might be put to better use, accepted his severance pay, and left!
Avery kept “Mudpuppy’s,” his investments in the bank and seat on the Board of Directors, his investments in both the creamery and locker plant (which his brother operated for him), and all other of his investments and financial negotiations under his control. Realizing his operation was growing too large for him to continue doing all of the bookkeeping, he sought out, and found an accountant he could trust and paid him well to keep his mouth shut! Avery didn’t hesitate to pay the taxes he owed on what he reported, but he just didn’t report everything! There were still those transactions and negotiated deals which never went through the bank or the accountant. Those and the profits from them, including the records, he kept at home in his office safe until he could properly invest them in something more legitimate.
Avery also purchased a couple of new tractors, although there were those in the area who still farmed with horses, for his farms to use; a new pickup truck for himself, and ordered several five hundred gallon tanks for gasoline storage, just in case it was rationed. “Mudpuppy’s” would need sugar, salt, and flour as well as other staples, but he could only store so much of those items without spoilage. Visiting with his various foremen, he stockpiled parts for equipment and purchased new or used wherever it was needed.
If he was wrong in all of his preparations, he’d spent a great deal of money for what some members of his family thought was foolishness! Avery was calculating they were wrong and he was right; this could be a long and costly war, both in raw and manufactured materials and humans.
It was beginning to cost lives, property, and national sovereignty! In May of 1940, the Olympics were canceled, the Nazi’s attacked the Netherlands, Belgium, and Luxembourg, the Germans bombed Chilham and Petham, Kent, England, and Winston Churchill became Prime Minister of England. British and French forces were being overwhelmed in France and starting the end of May and ending June 3, British and French forces were evacuated at Dunkirk. England called out every fishing boat, floatable watercraft, and person who was able to assist in this massive and live saving task. Unfortunately, they were unable to bring the thousands of tons of war supplies, equipment, and material with them, leaving them for the occupying German forces.
“In April of 1940,” he commented, “Rear Admiral Taussig testified before a U.S. Senate Naval Affairs Committee, war with Japan was inevitable. It was shortly after that I received a special delivery package from Robert containing Chance’s original birth certificate, the original and copies of Robert and Melissa’s wills, and signed, notarized guardianship papers for Chance in case anything should happen to both of them. I was surprised at what I saw and deeply saddened, realizing what we feared may cost me more than I’d anticipated!”
Avery’s eyes misted over, remembering his loss, and his voice broke, as he choked out, “I still miss my big brother so much!”
Our conversation was interrupted by Chance and Tommy walking into the office. Chance immediately noticed Avery’s distress, quickly walked over, extended his arms, and Avery rose and stepped into them. Chance hugged him tightly to his chest and said softly, something I thought unusual at the time,
“It’s okay, Pops, I miss them too!”
The two of them remained in a teary embrace until I noticed Avery give a slight nod and Chance released him. Avery returned to his chair while Chance stepped back to join Tommy. I couldn’t help but notice again, how damned similar in appearance Chance and Avery were; almost as if it were father and son embracing and not uncle and nephew!
Tommy, during the interchange between Avery and Chance, stood back, making no comment, but watched me, not them, closely! It didn’t take me two seconds to see clearly, not only was Tommy Watanabe Chance’s lover, but his protector as well! Anything affecting Chance affected Tommy and if it meant harm to Chance, his lover, Tommy would do anything and everything to stop it, including personal sacrifice.
Avery quickly blew his nose, wiped his eyes, and asked, “Hawaii or Korea?”
“Hawaii,” Tommy answered before Chance could. Chance offered a half-ass silly grin looking in my direction.
“Tommy, why don’t you select a couple of bottles of a nice red, perhaps a Bordeaux or Burgundy from wine cellar?” Avery asked. “Oh, take Nelson with you; he needs to see our setup if he’s going to be part of this little band of bandits!”
Tommy nodded, walked to the large bookcase on the wall at the end of the room, reached forward, pulled first one book on one shelf about half-way out, pulled two more in different locations on another shelf about half-way out, then pulled one out completely on the next shelf down, and finally, pulled another book on the bottom shelf about half-way out of the shelf. This done, he looked back at me, waved me forward, grinned, and shoved the book he’d removed entirely previously, back into place. When he did, the bookcase swung inward, opening into another room!
Following Tommy through a short hall carved from the native limestone underlying many parts of this part of the state along the Mississippi River, I hadn’t realized how extensive the limestone outcropping and bedrock was. The short hall opened into a larger, dome shaped cavern about fifteen feet wide, seven foot high, and perhaps twenty or thirty feet long. Along each sidewall were racks from floor to ceiling containing wine bottles; the center of the room contained one long double-sided wine rack, again from floor to ceiling. I had no idea how many bottles of wine were stored in this particular room.
“What do you think of Avery’s wine cellar?” mused Tommy, fully aware I’d not murmured a word since we entered the cellar, only standing mute with my mouth agape!
“There’s not time, since Avery wants his wine, or I’d show you some more secrets,” he confided, “but we need to choose a couple of bottles of red.”
He chose, from different locations, a French Red Bordeaux, vintage 1975, and a domestic Cabernet Sauvignon. We left the wine cellars and as we did, Tommy closed the door again, by pulling out the book. After the door closed, he reversed the procedure he used to open the door and it locked tight. First time I ever saw a combination lock using books as the numbers to release the tumblers, or whatever it was securing the door, faux bookcase, to keep others out.
Avery was filling an ice bucket with cubes from the ice machine as we emerged from the wine cellar.
“We like our wine slightly chilled,” he announced, accepting one of the bottles, the Bordeaux, wiggled it around until in nestled nicely in the ice and began rotating it gently with his hands to cool the bottle and the beverage inside. Extracting it, when he felt it was cool enough, he opened the bottle with a corkscrew wine cork remover, moving to the glasses Chance set on the bar, poured us each a glass. Raising his in a toast, he proclaimed “to our futures; may the past guide us to better times and prosperity.” With a twinkle in his eye, added quickly an Irish Toast, “May you be a half an hour in heaven before the devil knows you’re dead!”
I could drink to that, and did! Avery resumed his position behind his desk, I returned to my chair in front of it, and Chance, with his left arm around Tommy, ensconced themselves on the setae.
“Now, where did we leave off?” Avery questioned aloud, but spun his chair quickly pointing at Chance and Tommy, laughed in jest, “And no smart-ass answer from you two. I’m referring to Nelson and my conversation before we were interrupted, not what Chance does when he wakes from these nightmares!”
Tommy laughed, poked Chance in the side; “I thought as we got older, he might lose some of his vigor, I’m not complaining understand, but he hasn’t.”
“Oh, yes,” began Avery, “the Selective Service Act was passed and construction on military barracks and other installations began in earnest, all in preparation for war!”
Canada was one of the main suppliers of war materials for beleaguered England, but the German U-boats was taking a toll on shipping, sinking those merchant ships, sending men and materials to the bottom of the North Atlantic. When the United States passed the “Lend-Lease Act” mothballed World War I destroyers and other war ships along with needed military equipment and supplies from the United States began flowing to England as well. Unfortunately, many of those ships met the same fate as the Canadian ones. However, enough were surviving the transoceanic crossing to do a great deal of good. Shipyards in the United States began gearing up and producing modern war ships in large numbers.
“Did you know,” Avery asked to no one in particular, “the United States Navy was already in the war on the Atlantic Ocean before war was ever declared by the United States Congress?”
I didn’t know that, but I had to confess I did considerably better in science classes rather than history!
“I remember,” Chance added, getting into the conversation, “when Dad came home from the Base one evening and told Mom, Roosevelt signed the “Two Ocean Expansion Act” and he thought we might be in the soup in Hawaii before long! He wanted to send us to the mainland, but Mom put her foot down and said if he stayed, she stayed. When they looked at me, plotting someway to ship me off to the mainland, I threw a real shit-fit! If Mom could stay so could I; pretty daring for a nine year old, now I think about it. I made some sort of excuse about leaving my friends, especially Tommy.”
“I think he was more upset about having to give up my cute little butt to poke and fiddling with my pecker, than actually moving!” quipped Tommy.
“As if you didn’t give as well as you got,” laughed Chance, giving him a kiss!
I watched these two men, both in their fifties, show those signs of a lasting love and respect for each other as only a couple who are truly life-mates can. They’d known each other since they were small babes growing up on a tropical island, Oahu, Hawaii.
Chance pulled Tommy even closer, his eyes sparkling, his lips twitched as if still tasting or wanted to taste more of his lover, saying,
“Ever since I can remember, there was Tommy; next to me in bed, on the playground, walking to school, sitting next to me in class, swimming in the ocean, laying in the sand on the beach; there was always Tommy!”
When Chance’s dad, Robert was transferred to Hawaii, he was sent to Hickam Field, an Army Air Force base to work on planes, specifically fighter planes and bombers. As a Master Sergeant, he supervised a crew of aircraft mechanics consisting of enlisted men who took great pride in their work, the vital job of keeping aircraft in tip-top condition so their pilots could return home each time they flew a mission.
Chance’s mom, Melissa, was a civilian RN working at a nearby hospital. As her pregnancy became noticeable, she took leave of her position as a surgical nurse, promising to return after the baby was born.
Since they hoped to be stationed for some time on the island, they purchased a nice, medium-sized home about six miles from the base. The bungalow wasn’t ocean front, but close enough! It did have a small “caretakers” or servants house on the property, which would later to prove a blessing. About two months before Chance was born, they advertised for a housekeeper, offering wages and housing, hoping they could also to have the housekeeper babysit the new baby when it arrived.
As luck would have it, after advertising only two weeks, Yoshi Watanabe and his wife, Minako, showed up one day to apply for the position. Mr. Watanabe, a business and economics teacher at a local high school, recently lost his lease on the apartment they rented because one of the clauses in the rental agreement stated “no children.” Mrs. Watanabe was clearly pregnant, hence they needed a place to live.
Both the Watanabe’s were second generation Japanese/American, born in Hawaii of Japanese parents. Yoshi received his bachelor’s and Master’s degrees from a University in California, spending a couple of summer seminars in Japan as part of his Master’s Thesis, and Minako graduated from high school in Hawaii. She’d worked as a domestic and nanny prior to their marriage and continued to do so after. After fifteen years of marriage, this would be their first child. They were about five years younger than Robert and Melissa. The four of them immediately hit it off and the little house was soon occupied by the Watanabe’s.
Tommy was born in February 1932 a few days before Chance. When Chance arrived on the scene and Melissa went back to work, it seemed natural for Minako to care for both boys, nursing one then the other. After they were fed, burped, and cleaned up, they were put down for their naps, usually in the same bed. The arrangement was quite satisfactory with both families.
The two boys grew and played together, learned to crawl and walk, and learned to talk together. The Watanabe’s were fluent in Japanese, Chinese, and because both were raised on the island, in a conglomeration of nationalities and languages, spoke Spanish and Hawaiian. The boys quickly picked up the languages and would chatter in mixture of them, many times confusing their parents, but making perfect sense to each other!
“By the time we were six or so,” Chance chuckled, “after being in school around other boys, we could shout ‘fuck you’ in Spanish – ‘vete a la verga’; Chinese – ‘wo kao’; Japanese – ‘Kutabare’; or Hawaiian –‘Mai ‘ a!’. Of course we never used any of that around our folks, although since Dad was an Army man, I’m certain he heard it all one time or another.”
“We really became adept at swearing in Hawaiian,” mused Tommy, “most ‘Haole’ boys didn’t understand it, especially if they were new to the island or their folks either didn’t speak any or forbid it at home!”
“The beach wasn’t far from the house,” Chance reminisced, “and we really loved to swim.”
On nice days, which was usual, Mrs. Watanabe would trot the boys the three blocks or so to the beach for a swim. Barefoot, dressed in shorts and tee-shirts (most often just shorts as the only article of clothing adorning their little bodies), once at the beach, they’d strip naked and play in the sand and shallows.
It wasn’t unusual in those days gone by, for young boys and older boys and prepubescent girls to swim in the nude. Swimming at YMCA’s, high school boys swim meets, and some college men swim meets for the participants to swim nude, even with the public watching. There seemed to be no major objection to the practice, depending on where and when it happened – well, that’s not entirely correct, there were some communities where it was frowned upon. But, hey, this was the 1930’s!
It certainly wasn’t the case when Chance and Tommy went for a swim. Before long they were both nut-brown, except Tommy was a little darker because of his ethnicity; even their little peckers and balls were tanned! Since Tommy wasn’t circumcised, the pink head of his little penis would poke out every now and then, especially when he and Chance would cuddle together or wrestle while in the water. Chance was fascinated with Tommy’s “nozzle” on the end of his dick and would gently caress it until Tommy got a stiffie. Tommy was equally as curious with Chance’s cut-cock, the head exposed all of the time unlike his, seeming to invite him to take a lick like a lollipop every now and then. The boys discovered they absolutely loved playing with each other and took every opportunity, if they were alone.
There were other naked boys and girls swimming and playing at the beach with the same nudity and unembarrassed abandon. Several of the boys were older, with large cocks, developing pubic hair, and some with man-sized dicks and a full, thick gathering of curly locks around the base. A neighbor boy, about eleven or twelve years old, from down the block, and his younger sister were often at the beach when Chance and Tommy were there; almost as if the brother and sister planned to be there at the same time.
One day the older brother volunteered to Tommy’s mom if she was ever too busy to bring Chance and Tommy to the beach, he and his sister would be happy to make certain they got there and then back home. It wasn’t long until he and his sister were the ones to escort Chance and Tommy to the beach.
That wasn’t all he did; he introduced them to a whole new world of sex play! Whenever he had the opportunity, he would fondle the boy’s little, smooth cocks into stiffness and, if no one seemed to be watching or caring, lean over and suck those tender morsels to a dry-cum for first and then the other.
One day he suggested a different game, this time involving his sister! Grabbing her by hand, he motioned for Chance and Tommy to follow them to a spot between some very large boulders farther up the beach, well away from the rest of the beach-goers. Reaching the outcropping and the privacy provided by the rocks, the horny twelve year old, his four and a half inch hard cock pointing almost straight up, and reaching behind a large rock, extracted a wooden box. From the box he retrieved an old blanket, spread it out on the sand and bade his sister to lay down on her back on it.
Flat on her back, knees up, legs spread, her young, hairless little-girl slit open and visible to all three of the boys, she grinned, and said to her brother, “I’m ready!”
Turning to Chance, her brother smiled and, giving his cock a couple of shakes, said to him, “Get my cock good and wet!” and gently encouraged Chance to take the stiffness in his mouth. Not wanting to miss a golden opportunity, Chance lathered that smooth, hard penis well, covering it with warm, moistness, until the boy pushed him away. The boy quickly knelt in between his sister’s legs, scooched forward until the tip of his throbbing penis touched her smooth, hairless little girl opening, instructed, “watch this” and pushed his maturing stalk into that young empty pocketbook clear to his balls.
“It slipped in there as slick as a hot dog into a bun,” laughed Tommy remembering the day.
The boy fucked hard until his ass cheeks begin to clench, his hips shoved forward with each clench, he grunted, shoved a final time as he inserted his dingus as deep as he could, and held it as he ejaculated into his sister. Boy boys knelt behind him, fascinated as the watched his balls bobble and the tube on the underside of his pole pulse as hot, steamy sperm worked its way up and out the small slit, now touching her depth, seeding her. He pulled out, leaving a trail of thin, white, cum dribbling from her and off the tip of his cock, grabbed Chance and said, “Now it’s your turn!”
This was a first for Chance and wasn’t certain if he found girls all that attractive, but he wasn’t about to turn it down. He replaced the boy, shoved his own little three inch spike in deep, and imitating the older boy, let nature take over, and pumped his penis back and forth, forward and back in the slippery, slick orifice until his own orgasm took over, leaving him twitching, but still in her.
“Pull out and let Tommy have a turn,” the older boy instructed.
Chance pulled out, Tommy took his place, slipping his own little brown spike in the twitching little honey-pot. He made about four thrusts and her brother instructed Chance to mount Tommy and fuck him while he fucked his sister. Chance wouldn’t pass up that opportunity either and slid his pecker into Tommy’s butt hole, sighing, appreciating the tight difference, and became committed to the male of the species after that.
Tommy and Chance both laughed remembering the experience. “What really surprised me,” mused Chance, “was once I was well seated, my pecker in his ass crotch deep, the brother mounted me! He fucked me hard while I fucked Tommy while he fucked the guy’s sister. I didn’t think he could recharge that soon, but he left a stick, gooey mess dripping out of my asshole. Hell of a day!”
Those early days spent growing up in Hawaii, weren’t all just sex games for Chance, although he admitted they were fun. The island was a great place to live, go to school and grow doing those things all young boys do. The weather was ideal, as far as Chance was concerned; warm all year, perfect for swimming, riding his bicycle, playing outside, enjoying life in general.
His father and mother loved him, doting on him, their only child, but still disciplined him if they felt he needed it; never spanking, but preferring to use other means, such as locking his bike up, denying ice cream or a special treat at bedtime. Those were sufficient to correct any aberrations in behavior they caught him at. Of course, there were all of those times they didn’t catch him either. They encouraged his natural curiosity and intellect, helping him develop socially, intellectually, and responsibly. Given where the family lived, among a diverse population, he quickly learned and rejoiced in accepting all people for what they are, no more, no less; fight for those who were unable to fight for themselves; never tolerate a bully; and do good or share with others, especially those who were unable to do for themselves. His parents also taught him, from early on, to be street wise.
“There are people out there who’d do you and others great harm, Chance,” his Dad cautioned him. “There are times to run and survive and times to fight; and when you fight, fight to win because eventually right will prevail, even if it means bending the law a little!”
His father truly believed that, but also believed you used any means possible to defend yourself and your family!
As much as they tried to shelter Chance from the growing tensions in the world and the buildup of military forces in Hawaii, they couldn’t avoid it. Chance, as an “army brat” knew very well what was happening and felt the unease of his parents and members of the community in general.
He once heard his father and Mr. Watanabe discussing the wars going on in the world, the growing menace in Japan, and the futility of trying to negotiate with leaders who would smile, nod their heads, and do something just the opposite.
“I think,” Mr. Watanabe observed, “the haloes, those with Occidental thought processes, developed through their cultures, do not understand the Oriental thought processes, also developed by their cultures. I fear,” he said sadly, “the reverse is not true!”
One evening, at the dinner table, Chance’s parents instructed him, very carefully, emphasizing the importance of what they were saying, “If anything should happen, if we should get separated, for any reason, you should contact Uncle Avery and go with him. When things get better, we will look for you there!”
The implication was clear and not lost on Chance; if war should come and something terrible would happen, he’d be safe with Uncle Avery until his parents came for him, if they ever did!
The land of soft music, fragrant flowers, beautiful people, and tropical weather literally exploded in front of Chance and Tommy on Sunday morning in early December, 1941!
“It was like any other Sunday morning, except this Sunday, Mrs. Watanabe would be caring for me instead of Mom and Dad. Dad traded duty with another sergeant who’d ordinarily have been working and Mom got called in to cover a shift for a nurse who fell and broke her ankle. There were no surgeries scheduled so she thought it’d be an easy day.”
“They kissed me goodbye, told me how much they loved me, and left for work around 6:45 or so. I waved goodbye to them as Tommy and Mrs. Watanabe walked next door to our house.”
Chance paused, took a deep breath, and continued,
“It’s always so real, so immediate, flashing before my eyes, even when I’m awake and I drift off in a daydream, as if I was standing there, Tommy next to my side, on our front porch again, brought there by the sounds of distant planes, the “thump, thump, thump,” of bombs dropping, the louder sounds of larger explosions, the rattle of machine gun fire, “ack, ack” guns, and puffs of explosions in the sky off in the distance toward Hickam Field where Mom and Dad were.”
“Japanese Zero’s and torpedo bombers were buzzing around in the sky, like angry bees, but swooping, diving, turning, climbing, attacking, killing everything in their paths. It was so unbelievable to me and Tommy. I tried to shout out at the evil in our skies, calling them, in my high, shaking, sobbing voice, “sons-a-bitches,” “fucking assholes,” and others in any language I could think of, until Mrs. Watanabe, carefully placed one finger over my lips, telling me to remember, avenge if possible, but we had to survive!”
“I tried to shut out the sounds of war, the sirens, large and small, wailing, screaming out warnings, clearing roads, racing to speed fire trucks, ambulances, police cars to scenes of destruction; watching black, oily smoke blubbering in huge roiling masses upward from the Harbor where great ships were anchored, and Hickam Field where the aircraft were hangered or on runways, wondering why they didn’t take off to fight the bastards! Soon, the “thuds” of bombs and the whining, whirring sounds of fighter aircraft with big, orange, circles, “The Rising Sun” on their wings started coming our way and Mr. and Mrs. Watanabe hustled us into the dining room and we crawled under the heavy oak table. My little boy stomach churned, I cried, Tommy cried, we held each other, knowing our world would never be the same again!”
“I sat on the front steps all night, Tommy at my side, waiting for my folks to come home. They didn’t come home that night, the next day, or the day after that. I wondered if it could get any worse; it did.”
To be continued:
Thank you for reading “The Leapling- Chapter Seven.”
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