Date: Mon, 28 Mar 2011 08:36:42 -0600
From: michaelpete@hushmail.com
Subject: Malcolm 19

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
mihaelpete@hushmail.com

Michael Peterson

MALCOLM

CHAPTER 19 FALL1952

	My trip back from Camp McFarlane in my grandfather's Chrysler with
Freddy and Butch was somewhat relaxed, even happy. Freddy looked forward to
doing things with me at the stream. Butch wanted to meet my poor friends
across the boulevard from his well-to-do neighborhood.

     	But, beneath the bubbles there was apprehension. In a little over
four days, I'd be facing my father again, an unpleasant proposition
normally, but greatly complicated by the Washburn affair. Considering the
enormous amount of money my father would reap from it, one would think I'd
have had a more positive outlook. However, knowing my father's need to find
fault with me, there was the distinct possibility, even probability, it
would be turned against me, become a cause for punishment and a blow up
that I would ultimately lose.

	The first stop was a White Tower Restaurant. Butch missed their
little burgers. We three boys ate three each plus fries and a soda. My
grandparents had one and bought some fruit juice from a supermarket down
the street.

	Butch was taken home first. Only his maid was there to let him
in. Freddy and I left the trunk in his bedroom. It looked a bit like my
bedroom but had shelves of books, far more than mine. I was jealous. We
agreed to meet at ten the next morning at Edward's Supermarket. Freddy had
taken the day off but had to work the next day, the always busy Saturday.

	From there, we took my trunk to my house. Adelaide was there to let
us in. We hauled it up to my room. I showed everyone my `jail door' as I
called the new doorway my father installed across the hall past the entry
to my bathroom.

	I took some clothes out of the trunk, handed them to my grandfather
and told him I'd bring whatever else I needed in a minute. I wanted to get
him out so I could get the cash out of the bottom of the trunk and hide
it. There was a lot but not the time to count it. I stuffed it and the note
of apology from Bert and the others into a pair of khaki pants and carried
it all out to the car.

	Finally at my grandparent's house, Freddy and I went straight to
our room to count my money, then did it again. I couldn't believe I'd
earned three hundred and eighty-one dollars. Freddy reminded me of the
three my grandfather had given me for naming three good things about my
father. I recalled I'd gone to camp with five dollars in my pocket and had
never spent a penny. By the time I was free to go to the store, it was all
courtesy of the camp. My ass and lips had made three hundred seventy-three
dollars. Freddy counted it again.

     	"I'm in the wrong job. You made almost a hundred more than me,
about eighty." He shook his head. "Whatta you gonna do with all this?"

	"I'm going to hide most of it in case I need it. And now I can buy
some stuff for Victor at school. He's a friend of mine. His parents don't
give him anything to spend. And get some stuff for myself, like more
baseball cards, or football cards now if they got `em."

	We went for a run around the neighborhood then came back and did
exercises in the alley, attracting the attention of two neighbor teens who
left angry when they couldn't do anything we were doing. I heard `nigger'
as they walked away. We finished in the front hall.

	That evening, Freddy and I watched a little television then went
upstairs to read to one another from a short story book that Stanley from
my cabin had given me that morning as we were packing. Though I could still
hear the Negro accent, Freddy's speech was vastly changed from a year
earlier. He had worked hard but I continued to miss the easy flow his words
had had before. Every once in a while, though, the wonderful sound crept
back in. I got the impression the new speech patterns were forced.

	That night, we went to bed early, both wanting to be close. Freddy
lay naked on top of me, his face on my shoulder, his cock between my legs,
gently pumping.

	I kissed his cheek repeatedly. "I love you, Freddy."

	"I love you too, Maacum."

	"I thought about you all the time at camp, thinking who I liked
best for sex but every time I knew that the sex wasn't the most important
thing when we have sex. It's what I feel like when you're with me. I love
to feel you on top of me like this." I hugged him tightly. "There's nobody
else in the world I want to be with like I do with you. I love you so
much."

	He said nothing but kissed me on the lips briefly and hugged me for
a while. We fucked with him on my back then slept for a while. During the
night, we did it again then slept lying face to face in each other's arms
as I'd done with Georgie that last night.

	I went to work with Freddy in the morning. He had to be there at
eight thirty to help with the clean up before the nine o'clock opening.

	From there I went to Martin's house. Dickie opened the door and
jumped into my arms and shouted, "Malcolm's here, Malcolm!"

	The girls ran to the front of the house first. The youngest giggled
while her older sister welcomed me with an almost shy, "Oh. Hi Malcolm."

	Mr. O'Malley shook my hand and his wife hugged me. Martin was at
Bobby's house working. Dickie didn't want me to go anywhere.

	"C'mere," he said while dragging me to and up the stairs, "I wanna
show you sumthin'."

	He took me into the bedroom, closed the door, sat me on the bed,
pushed me back, fell on top of me and planted his mouth full on mine,
sucking at my lips, running his tongue over and between my teeth. He and
Martin had gone beyond sucking and fucking"

	His hips ground rapidly into my belly. I worried someone would walk
in the unlockable door.

	"Dickie," I said after pulling loose of his lips, "somebody might
come in, your sisters, anybody."

	"No they won't. Let's do stuff."

	"But, Dickie, it's daytime. People are all over and the door's
unlocked."

	"Please, Malcolm. Martin hardly ever does it with me any more. It's
just Steven, Steven, Steven and he doesn't do anything, just sticks it in
me sometimes."

	"But we can't do in here right now. People will see."

	"Can we go to your house?"

	"Dickie, no, I can't go there now and it's too far. I'll come one
night."

	"But I wanna do it now. Martin doesn't wanna do it with me any
more, just Steven."

	His enthusiasm had me hot. His reason made me sympathetic. Seven
year olds weren't normally my thing but this little boy had a way of
exciting me. I wracked my brain for a safe place. "Can you go out?"

	"Tell mom you want to take me with you to where Martin works. They
never let me go there."

	That didn't sound very promising. "You ask her."

	"No, you. She always says no to me."

	Dickie pushed his hand between us and found my erection. He
smiled. "You want to, too." He kissed me again.

	I noticed the chair at Martin's small desk and had an idea. "Are
there any books downstairs that we can read?"

	"I don' wanna read. I wanna do sex."

	"We can say we're reading."

	He thought. "I'll get one."

	He dashed out the door. I heard his squeaky voice mention read to
his mother then his rapid footsteps on the stairs. He darted in and closed
the door. I put the chair under the handle and kicked each back leg once to
secure it. He was taking off his shoes when I turned around.

	"Don't take off your shoes. Just pull your pants down." I opened
and lowered mine.

	He lay on me again kissing and fondling my stiff cock. I wanted to
move things quickly to the main event. I hoped it was just oral but
remembered how nice his tight little rear end felt. I pulled him around to
a sixty-nine position. He went immediately down on me. I sucked his chunky
two incher. He pumped hard into my face. I held his buns to slow him
down. He was doing a great job on me, putting his entire mouth to work. It
was almost like I was inside his rear end. He tugged on my thighs right
below my ass. I pumped slowly into his mouth. He rolled his head
around. Dickie had become very accomplished at this. My perineum felt like
it was glowing. I moved faster on his, difficult from under him. My cock
bloated. I came. I pressed his head tight to my crotch and turned us over
where I could do a more effective job on him. He responded. Seconds later,
his body straightened. He throbbed in my mouth.

	When his orgasm had run its course, I said, "Dickie, I've gotta
go."

	He pushed my cock out of his mouth with his tongue and asked, "Can
you stay here tonight?"

	"I don't think so. I've got to stay at my grandparents all
weekend." Sleeping with Martin and Dickie was always an erotic blast but I
wanted to be with Freddy.

	"When?"

	"I don't know. Maybe next weekend if my father lets me out."

	I walked the five blocks to Bobby's and knocked on the door. Steven
opened it and shouted the same as Dickie, "Malcolm's here!" He didn't jump
in my arms but did drag me by the arm toward the kitchen.

	Bobby got to me first. He wrapped his arms around me and gave a
ferocious French kiss. "I hope you came to work," he said with his hands on
his hips. Martin wanted to just hug. I told Steven to turn around and
sucked in his lips. All three wore aprons.

	Bobby rushed back into the kitchen. The rest of us followed. They
were preparing a sauce for a pasta meal Bobby had been hired to provide for
a birthday party.

	Bobby's mother was slicing vegetables on a long stainless steel
table against the wall where the rickety kitchen table had once stood. She
smiled and welcomed me.

      The kitchen had a second stove, a very commercial looking thing with
two ovens and heavy iron grates over the eight burners. There was a second
refrigerator, twice the size of the first. The old dish sink was gone and a
larger stainless steel double sink was in its place.

      "Gees, Bobby," I said, "how many jars do you sell a day?"

      "You mean of soup? About, uh, thirty-two yesterday. But we also sell
spaghetti sauce, different kids of stews and pastas, and we're working on
some biscuits and rolls. I've got some dough in the fridge we're gonna bake
when I finish this. There's our price list on the table in the living
room."

      There was a large stack of mimeographed price lists. They had his
telephone number at the bottom in large numbers. "Whose telephone is this?"
I called out.

      "Mine, right behind you."

      I looked around. There was a desk piled with papers on the opposite
side of the kitchen wall. A telephone hung on the wall above it beside a
calendar.

      I went back into the kitchen.

      Steven was washing his hands in the sink. "I gotta go collect. Wanna
come?"

      "Money?"

      "No, jars and stuff."

      "Go with him," suggested Bobby, "We're gonna be real busy here for a
while."

      We pushed a large wheeled cart like an oversized grocery basket all
over the area. Suddenly, I remembered my appointment with Butch and rushed
off to Edward's. He was standing in front of the store looking like he
needed to pee.

      After I apologized, he said, "I've gotta stay at my uncle's house for
a few days. My parents are in New York and they're going to fumigate the
house today."

      He told me he'd call as soon as he got back.

      "You better let me call you. My father doesn't like anybody calling
me."

      Butch ran across the boulevard and I caught up to Steven. We stopped
at a half dozen more houses, then pushed our load of jars back to Bobby's
where we washed them in steamy hot water in his new stainless steel
sink. Steven stood on a low stool, like the one I'd sat on to blow Charley
back at the McFarlane clinic. He scrubbed and I dried. The water he used
was really hot. I was surprised he could handle it.

      Bobby and Martin loaded up the birthday party pasta and drinks into
the cart. His mother, who I hadn't noticed wasn't there when we returned,
came into the house with a large birthday cake. Bobby, Martin and his
mother went off with the cart. Steven and I cleaned up the kitchen.

      "You guys do this every day?"

      "Sure. Well, more like today when we have a party or a dinner or
something. Everyday but Sunday. All we do Sunday is cook and fix stuff for
Monday. That's only two or three hours."

      "You work seven days a week?"

      "Bobby does. We can only work four days a week, just thirty hours,
but we do more sometimes. Spike and this other girl work during the week
and sometimes Saturdays. Bobby's looking for somebody new for next week
when Spike and all of us go back to school. There's this guy but his mother
doesn't like him. He's always touching Bobby's ass."

      Martin was back in fifteen minutes, Bobby fifteen after him. His
mother had stayed to help.

      "How much you making with this party?" I asked

      "All or profit?"

      "Profit."

      "About twenty-two dollars."

      That didn't seem like much with him paying Martin and Steve and
splitting it with his mother. "And how much you have to pay these guys, and
your mother?"

      "That includes everybody's pay. The twenty-two is for me and I got
the afternoon sales to go and that'll be more. I did the party as a
favor. C'mon, I gotta do some baking."

      Bobby was working seven days a week, ten hours most days, longer
Saturdays, just four Sundays.

      "How much do you make a week, for you?"

      "Aha! That's a secret,' he said as he took a pair of pots out of the
large refrigerator. `But I gotta change the floor here and do some work on
the walls and install new drains so it's not all that much yet. And pay for
all this new stuff."

      "This stove and all?"

      "It's used. The guy gave me a year to pay for everything a hundred
fifty-five a month. Just got eleven months to go." He smiled.

      "What time do you get finished today?"

      "I have a couple of hours free to fuck you at about one thirty. I
know it's been a long time."

      I pulled Bert's note of apology out of my pocket and held it in front
of his face. He read it.

      "So?" I got the impression he already knew and was prepared for me
telling him.

      "They pissed me off so I stopped letting them fuck me for a couple of
days."

      He looked at the note again, then at me. "How old?"

      "All but one older than me, five or six bigger than you. These
three,' I pointed to Bert, Horace and John's signatures, `had big ones, a
lot bigger than yours. I made three hundred and seventy-three dollars off
`em.'

      "You whore, you didn't." At least he hadn't known that.

      I smiled. "When Georgie comes he's tell you about one day when I got
fucked eight times in a row."

      He grinned. "Now, that's bullshit."

      "Just wait. Georgie'll be here in October, second weekend, I hope."

      "You're crazy, boy. You must be shitting your pants all the time."

      "Jealous?"

      "Of course not. I'm not crazy."

      I smiled.

      "Okay, a little. Just don't tell me about it now or I'll fuck up
these biscuits.'

      He baked his biscuits and two pans of rolls. The rolls were nice, the
biscuits were better than my grandmother's.

      "You're going to be very rich one day," I told him later in the
living room.

      "I hope so. Now, about all that fucking. No, first, let's go into the
bedroom. I've got to see."

	Once the door was closed, I lowered my pants and briefs and lay
over the bed with my legs off the side. He spread my cheeks.

	"Hmm. You're lying about how big they were. Looks the same to me."

	"Try your finger."

	He stuck his finger in his mouth and pushed it inside me,
easily. "Well, well. Maybe. Let's get naked and try."

	"Lock the door."

	"Don't worry. They all know the rules."

	"What about your mother?"

	"She knows better."

	"She knows what you do in here?"

	"Oh, Malcolm. She's always known. She doesn't like it but now that
I'm her boss, what's she gonna do?"

	Bobby had small ring pubic hair. I played with it.

	"I was thinking of shaving it off but they say it'll just grow back
and be worse."

	I lay on top of him and we kissed for a few minutes. He asked, "Any
of `em kiss as nice as me?"

	I almost said Larry but propriety intervened. "No."

	"Did any of them kiss?"

	"A few. Larry and Bert. Larry's just nine but Bert's thirteen and
almost a man. He's got one like this." I held up my hands indicating his
five inches.

	"How many boys did you have sex with?"

	"Fourteen or fifteen, I think."

	"And nobody knew?"

	"Lots of kids were doing sex there. We saw three of them jerking
off with one kid's sperm. They used to jerk off in the bathroom toilets all
the time. One kid did it in the shower every day."

	"But how many were actually fucking?"

	"I don't know but proably more than us. We saw some kids up on the
mountain one day doing stuff not fucking really but between one a their
legs and these kids I was with talked about how they were fucking different
kids in their boarding schools and just about everybody there was from rich
families so I'm sure it wasn't just us. Some of the masters were doing
stuff with some of the campers. Yeah lots."

	"But how big was the biggest fucking you?"

	"Two of them were bigger than Bert. Almost like the big boys you
had in here."

	"Almost. So I'm still the champ?"

	I kissed him some more. We did a little sixty-nine. I supposed his
cock had grown some but only noticed that fluffy pubic hair ringing the
base of his cock with a small tuft over the top. Bobby wanted to get
inside.

	"I fucked Martin once back in June or July but he said it
hurt. He's used to that little thing Steven has. I really need this."

	He pushed in slowly. "Oh, this is wonderful. Your ass is still
great, Malcolm. Oh!"

	He lay on me and fucked for a while then stopped and pulled my face
to his. We kissed. He moved his ass back and forth, wobbling his cock side
to side in my rectum. He knew what felt good. In another year or so, I
expected to be able to do the same for him.

	He started pumping again, moving his ass up and down as he did,
running his cockhead across my prostate. I gripped his hands and kissed
them. He pulled loose and pushed a hand under me. He was getting close and
wanted to take me with him.

	"Oh Malcolm," he moaned. He masturbated me slowly. His thrusts
became sharper, his breathing heavier. His hand moved faster on my cock. I
came. He said, "Oh Malcolm," again and throbbed inside me.

	There was sweat dripping from between us, making me scratch my
sides.

"God, I needed that," said Bobby. "Lemme see that letter again?"

	"It's in my shirt pocket on the chair."

	"Then later. I wanna stay like this for a month."

	We did until Martin knocked on the door. A customer wanted to talk
to him.

	"Shit, business."

	I lay naked on the bed while he pulled on his shirt, pants and
shoes. Martin and Steven came in as he walked out. They laughed quietly.

	"First sex in almost three months, huh?"

	"Nope, since day before yesterday."

	He pressed for details. I gave up some but didn't mention
prostituting myself or the assembly line sex.

	Bobby came back in with a paper in his hand. "I've gotta shower and
work. You guys too."

	They had an order for a Sunday party requiring a large amount of
spaghetti sauce. Bobby's took over twenty-four hours to prepare. I showered
with him.

	"You going to be busy all day tomorrow?" I asked as he washed my
back and behind.

	"'Til about two. Then I'm free until Tuesday. Wanna fuck some more?
I'm sure Robert would be happy to see you. And Spike? He is my employee but
I'll lend him to you. Actually, tomorrow might be his last day unless I
can't get someone full time. Mother doesn't like Benny and I don't have
anybody else."

	"What are you going to pay?" I had an idea. "I know a great cook
who's working as a maid but if you offer her more, maybe she'll come with
you."

	"Who?"

	"Freddy's mother."

	"That's your little Negro friend?"

	"She was our maid for a while and I eat a lot at her house. She's a
great cook."

	"When can I talk to her?"

	"Freddy gets off late today, at eight, but he can ask her
tomorrow. Maybe she can come over here then."

	"Do it."

	In the morning, Freddy and I showered and went to early Mass with
my grandparents then took the streetcar to the turnaround and went over the
bridge and down to the stream. We planned to be at his mother's house when
they came back from church and tell her of Bobby's offer.

  	The hideout was coming apart as he'd said. A lot of work was going
down the drain but the reason for the hideout didn't seem as urgent. If I
had to take off from my house, there were places to go for a few days at a
time like Martin's and Bobby's houses. I could probably even go to
Georgie's.

	The duffle bag was still there but with both the sleeping bag and
blankets clean and folded. Freddy had seen to that in June.

	"I tried to just leave `em out overnight thinkin' the air might
help but they stunk just as bad so I took `em to mama and she soaked `em a
couple days which is why they're not the same color any more, and then she
washed `em and dried `em. I folded `em up real neat. Smell good, don't
they?"

	They did. We got naked and played like we'd done since we were six,
making things with rocks and sticks in the stream then climbing the tree
and sitting in our little look out, looking out over the forest around us,
talking about our futures.

	Freddy called my grandfather Uncle George. "Uncle George says I can
study anything I want when I go to college. I was thinking about being an
engineer, the kind designs buildings and big bridges. What're you gonna
study in college?"

	I'd never really considered it. My life seemed so tenuous at times
I wasn't sure I wouldn't end up like some of the kids over Martin's and
Bobby's way, out of school at fourteen. One of the problems with running
away was exactly that. It would be the end of my education. Although I
hadn't fully analyzed why, it also meant I'd never make a lot of money. The
best would be a life like Martin's father, working hard for someone else
and earning a salary that allowed me to have a simple house and car. "I
dunno. Depends if I ever go to college."

	"You gotta go to college, Maacum or you're gonna end up poor like
Mike's family. He's one of the boys works with me at Edward's. His father
paints houses so he can only work when it's not too cold, about eight
months a year. His mother's got six other kids to look after. Mike's the
oldest, and he's only fourteen, almost fifteen, in November like you, I
think."

	"Depends on what kinda shit my father pulls with me. I'm not
staying in that house if he locks me up again or starts trying to beat me
for nothing."

	"He ain't gonna beat on you any more. You're too strong for
that. And if he locks you up, you gotta key. Just go out. Fuck `im. You
gotta go to school. You need to listen to Uncle George. Just a few more
years and you can just leave the son-of-a-bitch and go live with him. He'll
make sure you go to school and college."

	"That's what everybody says. Just a few more years but none of you
have to live with him. A few years is over four years, a long time. I can't
stand him if he stays like he was last year, not even for a few
weeks. Shit! I don't wanna go back there. He's gonna get a whole bunch of
money from Washburn. Why can't he just take it all, even what he's supposed
to give me, and just leave me alone, let me live with my grandparents or
you?"

	We went back across the stream and lay on the blankets. I lay on my
side with one leg over Freddy's middle and stared at his face.

	"What are you looking at?"

	"The way your face is. I really like it." I ran my fingers across
his forehead and nose and lips. "You're very handsome, Freddy."

	He smiled. "I ain't gonna let you go kissing me."

	I crawled on top of him. "Think you can stop me?"

	"I'll bite you if you try," he giggled.

	"Get your teeth ready `cause here I come."

	I lowered my face slowly to his then went fast for a lip to lip
kiss. Our lips brushed as he turned his head away. I chomped down on his
ear. "How you like this?" I asked between my teeth.

	He reached between and grabbed my balls. "How you like that. You
bite hard and I'll squeeze."

	"What if I bite soft?"

	"I suppose I'll squeeze soft."

	I sucked on his ear. He wiggled his fingers on my balls then
stopped. "Go a little lower." I did. "That feels kinda ticklish but good."
He pulled my face tighter against his head. I sucked in the bottom half of
his ear and stuck my tongue inside.

	His dick got hard.

	I did some of what I'd done with Georgie, licking and sucking my
way under his chin, across his throat, down to his nipple and up under his
arm. He raised his arm and said, "Yeah, Maacum, there."

	I sucked in the soft flesh there and licked him clean of salty
sweat. He raised his other arm as I licked across his chest. His cock
pressed into my tummy. I couldn't wait any longer and slid down to it,
taking it in as I went, going right down to his balls. They were nearly the
size of marbles and felt nice in their fluffy sack.

	He pushed up into my mouth. My lower lip ran against his puffed
perineum. He began pumping. I moved back up and enjoyed the feel of his
thickening shaft. Freddy took hold of my head and moved it back and forth
as he fucked my mouth. I sucked in hard and cradled his shaft in my
tongue. He became more passionate, putting more of his body into each
thrust. He came suddenly, pulsing strongly. Within a year, maybe sooner,
he'd be giving my some of his protein soup. I hugged him.

	"Maacum. It's almost one. We gotta go."

	I looked at his watch. I should have humped his leg or something.

	"Jerk me off first."

	He sat up. I slipped between his legs and leaned into him. He held
me with one arm and masturbated me with the opposite hand. I reached back
and held his head to mine. I came quickly.

	His mother was home when we arrived. She hugged me and tried to
pick me up.

	"Lord, boy, how much you weigh?"

	"Ninety-six pounds."

	"Well, I cain't lift you up no mo'. You two is growin'."

	I told her of Bobby's business and his need for a full time person.

	"Well, I can talk ta him but first we gonna eat."

	We left a little before three with our tummies happy and full but
didn't get to Bobby's until four fifteen. Robert along with Simon was there
waiting for me. I shook my head and glanced at Aunt Martha. Robert appeared
crushed.

	Bobby went into the kitchen with Freddy's mother. She was very
impressed with all the equipment he had.

	"How old is you, boy?"

	"Thirteen, almost fourteen."

	"An' you done all this yo'self?"

	Bobby smiled. They discussed money and came to an agreement. Aunt
Martha promised to start a week from the next day, Labor Day. They talked
for another half an hour.

      We sat in the living room with Robert and Simon. I sat tight against
Freddy. Robert didn't seem to even notice Freddy was there. Simon, though,
asked, "Who's he?"

	Freddy was already part of the neighborhood. His mother would be
working there. There was no reason to hide anything. "He's Freddy, my best
friend, that lady's son."

	The expression on Simon's face was difficult to translate, a little
confusion perhaps. Freddy smiled and held out his hand. Robert was closer
and took it. Simon, out of reach, scratched his head, stood up, and shook
it too. I took a deep breath.

	"Your mother gonna work here?" asked Robert.

	"Yeah. I work at Edward's."

	"How much they pay?" asked Simon.

	"Just five a week but we make about twenty-five a week tips."

	"Hmmm."

      I promised to come the next day after lunch. Freddy was off and I
wanted to spend more time with him. He would come with me in the afternoon.

      I called my grandfather and got permission to stay at Freddy's for
the night. All the way home on the trolley then streetcar, Aunt Martha
talked about Bobby. She was very impressed by him.

      "He's like you, ain't he, Maacum?" she asked out of the blue.

      Freddy laughed.

      I smiled and poked him in the ribs.

      Douglas and two others came over. We played checkers until
bedtime. Douglas was good and won most of the games.

      Freddy and I had both grown since the last time we'd slept in his
bed. It was tighter, fine with me. Freddy had another idea.

      "Let's go sleep by the stream. Douglas got a flashlight."

      It wasn't as soft but certainly more erotic. Freddy made a fire. We
sat naked inside the blanket, talking until eleven then crawled into the
sleeping bag and made love. Freddy fucked me three times before we left the
sleeping bag at nearly nine the next morning. I felt better than I had in a
very long time.

      Aunt Martha was a little put out with us for coming home after
everyone else had eaten their breakfast. We admitted talking until
late. She looked at us lovingly and fried eggs and potatoes.

      It was drizzling when we set out for the streetcar turnaround,
pouring by the time we got there, soaking us to the skin. We had to walk in
the rain to Bobby's It was warm so the only problem was my shoes. Freddy
had on sneakers.  Mine were leather. We took them off when we arrived and
hung them on the back of his old refrigerator on the warm coil there.

      There was sauce left over from Sunday so Bobby made spaghetti for
us. It was delicious. Robert and Simon showed up with Spike as we were
cleaning the plates. Spike immediately knew what we'd eaten.

      "Shit, Bobby, why didn't you save some for me?"

      "You didn't say you were coming."

      "But I worked with you yesterday."

      Bobby turned and put his hands on his hips.

      Spike muttered, "Shit."

      I watched him to see how he'd accept Freddy. He walked over to me and
felt my arms one at a time. "Damn, Malcolm," was all he said.

      "Wanna fight?" I asked with a grin.

      "Shit, I can still beat you easy." He shot two soft blows into my
middle. "See?"

      I hugged him and asked, "Who's first?"

      Bobby said, "Don't answer `til you hear his price."

      Robert said disappointedly, "Price?"

      "He's kidding," I said.

      Robert grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the bedroom with one hand
while unbuttoning his shirt with the other.

      He'd grown some over the months since we'd been together, even had a
small bush of pubic hair. Everybody around me was growing, but not me.

      He was as good as I remembered. It was all I could do to keep from
cumming. Spike pushed in front of Simon who stood in the door for a moment
then left us alone.

      Spike had grown too but still had no pubic hair. As usual, he wanted
to be blown.

      "How come you don't like to fuck?" I asked him.

      "You know, I just like it better this way."

      "How do you know? You never tried it the other way."

      "C'mon, Malcolm. Just blow me."

      It was nice. His four inches was a perfect mouthful and nice and
thick. After a few moments, he said, "That nigger's your friend, Freddy,
right?"

      I lifted off him. "He's not a nigger, he's a Negro."

      "Okay. He do this with you too? You blow him?"

      "That's none of you business."

      He looked around the room then asked, "He bigger than white kids,
down here?"

      "Same." I sucked on his fat glans.

      "He fuck you?"

      "Spike, none of your business."

      "Shit, I'm not gonna say nothin'."

      "You know what I answer when people ask me what I do with you?"

      "Everybody knows what you do with me."

      "Well, if they didn't, I'd tell them none of their business." I
sucked on him some more.

      "He gonna bring any of his friends around here?"

      "Yeah, me. Shut up Spike or I'll never finish and Simon will come in
and kill you."

      "Simon can't beat me."

      "If you don't shut up I'll bite you."

      He laughed and shut up.

      His cock delivered some sweet juice. I sucked it all out.

      Handsome Simon's cock had grown too. His long, slim, five incher was
now longer and thicker. I walked out naked and requested some cooking oil
then jumped behind a chair. Bobby had a male visitor. He had the teenager's
cock out through his fly and was running his hand all over the man sized
tool. He smiled proudly and got me some oil.

      When I closed the door, I asked Simon to stand up on the bed. I
compared him in my mind to Charley at McFarlane. My camp customer had a
prettier face but Simon had the better body. Those pecs drove me
wild. After I oiled him up and wiped off my hands with toilet paper from
the roll beside the bed, I lay on my back, raised my knees to my ribs and
said, "Like this."

      He seemed a bit unsure how to do it. I showed him. He pushed full in
the moment his head popped inside. The view was incredible. Every muscle in
the front of his torso moved as he fucked me. His long cock put every nerve
ending inside my rectum into a high state of excitement. Oh, how I wished I
could have sucked on those chest muscles while he pushed into me. I could
see it was hard work for him but he didn't complain. I caressed his sides,
back and buns then ran my fingertips over his flexing abdominal
muscles. His head was lowered, his hair hanging loose as he watched with me
his long shiny cock slide in and out of my hole. I felt my orgasm coming up
from deep inside my rectum. It seemed to grow inside before shooting out
and up my perineum into my cock. I shook. He pumped harder as my sphincter
gripped and released him repeatedly. He sounded like he was humming for a
moment. He slammed deep into me. I felt the throbbing as streams of sperm
shot into me. I tugged on his hips. He never took his eyes off where we
were joined until he fell to his knees and slowly slipped out.

      He looked at me and smiled. "You came too, din't ya?"

      I nodded.

      "Yeah, I felt it."

      He dressed. I walked out naked with my clothes over my shoulders and
my shoes hanging off my fingers. Freddy looked at me and shook his head.

      "See what I gotta put up with?" he told Spike. They'd been talking.

      I put on my undershirt and sat on the other side of Freddy from
Spike. Simon went into the kitchen, probably in hopes of being fed. Freddy
explained to me that the boy who had taken Doug's job at Edward's wasn't
allowed by his parents to work during school time so there was an
opening. Spike was interested.

      Before I could say a word, Bobby stuck his head out of the bedroom
door.

      "Malcolm, c'mere a minute."

      He pulled me inside and closed the door. The teen was lying on the
bed with his pants off, shirt on, playing with his big erection. Bobby was
completely naked. It was amazing how fast he could disrobe.

      "He says I can fuck you while he fucks me but you gotta be on the
bottom."

      The boy was nearly a man. He must have weighed a hundred and sixty
pounds. "You'll crush me."

      "Try it. If we're too heavy, you can get out and I'll suck you off."

      "Simon already took care of me."

      Bobby's opened wide. "He sucked you?"

      "No, silly, I came when he was fucking me."

      "Come on. Try this." He pulled me to the bed. I lay down. He poured
some oil on his fingers and wiped it on his cock. He pushed easily in where
Simon had been. My hole was a bit tender. I could feel the motion of the
teen inserting into Bobby. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of
us. He stayed up and pumped slowly but hard. Bobby had to be in heaven with
a big cock up his ass and his buried in me, being punched deeper inside
with each thrust of his impaler.

      Then the teen lay down. I sank into the mattress. Bobby kissed my
cheek, probably hoping that would mollify me now that I was under two
hundred and fifty pounds of excited boyhood. It wasn't too bad and I
enjoyed the thought of what was going on above me. Bobby had to be close to
orgasm.

      The action went on and on. The teen was taking his time, pausing
occasionally, prolonging his fun. The tenderness in my ass disappeared. My
cock was ready to go when he started ramming Bobby into me harder and
faster. He grunted a few times then stopped. I felt Bobby
throbbing. Somehow, he'd held himself until the teen came.

      "Fuck me, Bobby," I pleaded. I was right on the edge.

      He said, "Wait."

      The teen lifted off us. Bobby said, "Let's turn over. I'll do you
like before."

      We rolled over. The teen had gone into the bathroom.

      "Turn around."

      I knew what he planned and revolved on his cock until my feet were on
either side of his head. He pushed my legs apart, reached for my shoulders
to pull himself up. I raised up best I could. Gradually, he doubled over
until he had my cock head in his mouth. He rocked forward and down until
his lips were nearly on my pelvis. I took a deep breath. This was going to
be quick. I held his head where it was and slid my ass ever so slightly
back and forth, moving his cock back and forth across my prostate. That's
all it took. I fell back and shook as orgasm overtook me. He released my
cock and sat up, grinning.

      The teen stood in the bathroom door watching us.

      ,
      He smiled and answered, "Nah."

      Freddy and I made it back to my grandparent's house by six for
dinner. Afterwards, my grandfather sat me down in the living room to
discuss how he felt it would be the best for me to behave the next day with
my father.

      "Your grandmother and I are going to meet them at the train station
at twelve-thirty and invite them out for lunch. Even if he refuses our
invitation as I suspect he will, I'll find a way to discuss the Washburn
situation with him. I've everything written down for him to read including
what you and your friends have said happened. I want you to read it over
and be sure it is correct.

      "Then, when you two talk tomorrow as I am sure you will, you must not
argue with him about anything, even if he interprets things differently
than how they happened."

      "What if he says it was all my fault? He..."

      My grandfather cut me off. "Malcolm, you can't gain anything by
arguing with him. Just be patient. He is going to receive a lot of money,
money he needs. Whatever he says tomorrow could change by the next
morning. You mustn't argue with him."

      In the back of my head still festered the idea that my father might
well be responsible for my homosexuality. The Washburn affair was
homosexual. I was certain he would bring that up. "What if he starts
calling me a fag? What am I supposed to do then?"

      "Nothing. Ignore it."

      That was the fundamental theme of what he wanted me to do. Just stand
there while my father said whatever he was going to say and be silent other
than required yes, sirs and no, sirs.  I wasn't convinced I could do that.

      I read over the two pages my grandfather had written. It was as
accurate as possible. There were no exaggerations but it did have a few
lines at the end calling Washburn's actions `rape' and about the `terrible
damage' done to the two boys. I handed it back to him with a shrug.

      In bed, Freddy followed up on my grandfather's admonitions.

      "Please don't fight with your father. Something terrible can happen."

      He let me kiss him on the lips, even kissed back briefly, mouth
closed. There was no real sex that night but a lot of hugging. Freddy was
afraid he might lose me. I was determined that would not happen.

      Freddy fell asleep. I kissed his cheek and wondered what our
relationship would have been like if my father hadn't made me into a
homosexual. I more and more accepted Georgie's position that people
couldn't be born as I was. Something had to make us that way. Since I was
sticking things in my butt when I was three, it had to be like Master
Gorman told me that German doctor said. Because of how my father treated me
when I was really little, I wanted to be like my mother, liking men instead
of women, or, in my case then, boys instead of girls.

      I tried to remember how long after Freddy and I met that he fucked me
the first time then chucked that aside as unimportant. We'd gotten along
immediately, and there hadn't been anyone else to play with. If I hadn't
been homosexual we'd still have become good friends and I wouldn't have had
to worry about being a hate target for the likes of Paul Simpson from my
class. I wouldn't have to hide my sexual desires from anyone. And, if Bert
was right, I wouldn't be having all these problems with my hateful father.

      So there it was, the son-of-a-bitch had made me what I was, that
aspect of me he hated so much. I was the one, not him, who was going to
have to live out my life as a pariah, a faggot hated by most of the
world. It was his fault, not mine, but he was constantly punishing me for
what he'd done.

      I squeezed Freddy to me. `Son-of-a-bitch!' I growled several times in
a row, tears of frustration and fury falling.

      Freddy stirred. "Maacum? Huh?"

      I kissed his cheek.

      "Wha's wrong, Maacum?"

      "I don't wanna go home." I took a deep breath in an attempt to hold
my tears at bay. "He made me this way. It's his fault, not mine but I'm the
one getting punished all the time."

      Freddy held me tightly but said nothing. Then he kissed my damp
cheek. "Please don' run away, Maacum."

      We talked about it all though neither addressed the concerns of the
other. Freddy warned me that running away would make it worse, that we'd
never be able to see each other. I insisted I wouldn't be able to handle my
father's abuse for something he caused. Worried sleep came eventually. The
bed was damp beneath us in the morning. Sweat dripped from between our
tightly entwined bodies. I awakened first. We lay side by side, our arms
around each other, legs entwined, sweat dripping from where our bodies were
pressed together. Our faces touched, mine slightly above Freddy's, his
breath warming my left cheek. I extended my lips and kissed the side of his
mouth. He tightened his grip on me and squeezed his legs against mine. Our
erections were against each other's pelvis though caused by the normal
early morning injection of testosterone rather than any sexual desire.

      After breakfast and a short lecture on the negative affects of
fighting with my father, I bundled up my money in some dirty clothes and
took the streetcar with Freddy to the turnaround. At first, I though to
hide the cash in the barn but then decided to stash it in my room where it
would be more accessible if I had to get away quickly. I joined Freddy by
the stream. He was back on the school year work schedule: Tuesdays,
Thursdays and Fridays four to eight and Saturdays eight thirty to eight
with an hour each off for lunch and dinner. I planned to go with him to
Martin's for lunch and then hang at Bobby's until five, getting home for
dinner, putting off meeting my father as long as possible.

      For something to do, we cleaned out some of the fallen ceiling from
our abandoned hideout. We stripped naked to avoid dirtying our
clothes. There was mud everywhere. The worst of the pollution had been
cleaned out of the stream by the rain so we could wash off there. Without
tools, it was an especially dirty job. After an hour of throwing rocks and
hands full of mud down the hill, it was difficult to tell which of us was
the Negro. Then we began tossing mud balls at each other.

      The stream water was cold. Our balls shriveled into patches under our
equally reduced cocks. We hastily got a fire going and hung our butts over
it. I got the duffle bag down and laid out the sleeping bag. We made up for
the lack of sex the previous night.

      Knowing we'd be too late for lunch at Martin's, I bought cakes and a
bottle of milk at the supermarket. We ate and drank on the streetcar. The
driver gave us dirty looks all the way to our transfer point.

      We spent an hour at Martin's talking about return to school the next
day. Before he left for work, Freddy took me to Martin's bedroom and
insisted I not fight with my father. He kissed me on the lips then hugged
me for a long time.

      "I love you, Maacum."

      Martin and I went to Bobby's. Trying to keep my mind off the imminent
confrontation with my father, I washed jars Steven brought back and helped
pack biscuits Bobby was sending out as samples with the evening's
deliveries.

      Five o'clock came. I walked home, all the way prepping myself to say
nothing no matter how abusive my father might become. At the bottom of the
big hill down from Martin's part of town, I began running and didn't stop
until I was up and over the hill past my house. Seeing my father's car
parked in front made me want to continue on, putting off what was becoming
the increasingly frightening prospect of dealing with anticipated abuse.

      I walked up the back yard from the street below. There didn't appear
to be anyone in the living room. I went through the back door. Adelaide was
in the kitchen. She greeted me cheerily, then, "Dinner'll be on the table
in about fifteen minutes so you got time to wash up."

      Sweat was dripping off me. I went to my bedroom and took off my shirt
and undershirt. My father called me from his den. I took a deep breath and
walked to it and stood in the doorway. He was holding the papers my
grandfather had prepared for him.

      "You want to tell me what you've gotten into this time?"

      I wasn't sure what to say. "It's all in there." I nodded my chin at
the papers.

      "I want to hear it from you."

      That hadn't been contemplated. I told him a short version of what I'd
read in our statements. Georgie and I had stumbled across Washburn hurting
Michael. He chased us but Harry and Barney jumped him and chased him off.

      "So a couple of twelve year olds and a weak eleven your old chased
off a full grown man?"

      "Yes, sir. There were four of us and Harry had a big stick."

      "Why didn't you tell camp officials or call the police immediately?"

      "We were scared. His father's a United States senator."

      "But a year later, when it's just you and this Georgie and you're
upset at being moved to a different cabin, you weren't scared any more."

      I remained silent.

      "Well, Malcolm, I'll tell you what I think happened. I think you five
kids were involved in some homosexual games and Master Washburn caught
you. Maybe he participated, maybe not, but, for some reason, he didn't
report you. Then, this year, Director Walpole moves you to make space for
another boy and you get upset because you can't be with your homosexual
partner Georgie. So you two cook up this cock and bull story. Then this
older kid and the parents of your homosexual friends saw a chance for a big
score. And now, thanks to your grandfather who believes all this crap of
yours, I've been dragged into this mess. Sound about right?"

      "No, sir." I trembled but said no more.

      "What about what I said isn't right?"

      "All of it."

      "You've got balls, boy. I'll give you that. Well, you just think
about this. You've probably ruined the life of the Washburn boy. And, smart
guy, you might have ruined our life too. If that senator, who happens to be
on the Intelligence Sub Committee so he can affect me, finds out, as he
probably will, that I'm a defense contractor, that will be the end of your
private school and private camp and your nice house because I'll be out of
work. So your clever little plan wasn't so clever, huh?"

      "It wasn't a plan. Washburn hurt Michael and Barney. He was the one
who made them move me so I couldn't be near Georgie. They wouldn't even let
me leave the cabin most of the time. He wanted to hurt us for making him
leave camp last year. He made it so Michael and Harry and Barney couldn't
come back this year."

      "Then why did he let you two come back?"

      "He didn't know our names until he saw us when we came in June."

      "That is...' He shook his head angrily. `Just go to your room and
stay there."

      "Why? I didn't do anything wrong."

      "Damn you, boy, you did everything wrong. You are one evil little
faggot. Go to your room and don't come out until I call you tomorrow."

      I headed for my room then his last remark worried me. I turned
back. "I've got to go to school tomorrow."

      "You're changing schools."

      My stomach turned to ice. "Why?"

      "I warned you not to cause any more problems. You did, a really big
one. Now, go to your room."

      "What school?"

      "Norris Academy in Ohio. It's military. Maybe they can make a man out
of you."

      "You're crazy. I'm not going!"

      "Listen to me you little faggot, you've screwed my life up for the
last time. I've given you everything..."

      "You're the one who made me a faggot, you son-of-a-bitch!"

      He got out of his chair.

      "You weren't mad at me about Freddy. You were always mad because your
son was a homosexual. Well, you made me the way I am by being a lousy
shitty father."

      He came at me and tried to grab me. I knocked his hands away.

      "Don't touch me!"

      "Go to your room!"

      "You're the bad one. You go to your room!" I turned. He pushed me
forward. I swung around fists cocked.

      "You're pathetic. With all your muscles you're still a sissy. Get
moving."

      I wanted to do what my grandfather had said. I knew it was the best,
the right thing to do. But I couldn't back down. Hatred was in charge of my
body. I stood there.

      "You think you're too big for my belt?" He began taking it off.

      There were no weapons nearby except in my room, well past the door he
could lock. I straightened up and stared him in the eye.

      He folded the belt and gripped it. "Move, boy."

      I stood my ground. I was too far along the railing above the stairs
to jump over. It was too much of a drop at that point. He swung the belt at
my middle. I charged him, ramming my shoulder right above his groin. He
stumbled backward. I turned around and headed out the door toward the
stairs. He put his arm around my neck and yanked upward. I kicked back into
his legs and swung a fist up at his face. He blocked my fist but took the
kick. He squeezed tighter. I couldn't breathe. I grabbed the railing and
kicked again. He pulled hard. My throat felt like it was buckling. I let go
of the railing with one hand and elbowed him in the ribs. His arm
loosened. I elbowed him again and again. He tried to switch arms on my
neck. I broke loose and headed for the top of the stairs.

      He reached out and pushed me from behind. My weight was too far
forward. I fell but held on to the railing. He caught up to me and hit me
on the side of the head, ramming my face into the railing. I turned over
and kicked at him. He moved out of the way and hit me in the head again. I
fell to the floor, one hand still on the railing, but kept kicking wildly,
furiously screaming "son-of-a-bitch" at the same time. He kicked back,
catching me in the leg with his first, then missing my leg and getting me
square on the jaw. Lights flashed in my head. I fell limp to the floor. I
heard and felt him grab me but everything visual was blurred. I forgot what
was going on for a moment. By the time I realized I needed to fight, he'd
thrown me on the floor. A door slammed shut and a lock was turned.

      I got to my hands and knees. It was dark and silent. I heard the back
screen door swing closed. It couldn't have been my father. It was too
fast. I thought about that for a while before a sharp pain in the side of
my head focused me on my body. I hurt in a number of places, though the
side of my head was the worst. I tried to get to my feet but a pain in my
right thigh negated that. I crawled to my bed and on top of it.

      Murder entered my mind. I hurt too much to fight then, but later,
when he was asleep, I'd get the biggest knife from the kitchen and stab him
a hundred times. Some time later, I heard the lock on the door being
opened. It was mother. Apparently, she'd been out.

      "Malcolm," she called as she came down the short hall. She turned on
the light and knelt beside the bed, looking me over. "Are you hurt?
Malcolm?"

      I turned my face to her and stared. Her expression of worry didn't
change so my face didn't look too bad no matter how much it hurt.

      "Why must you fight with him? You know you'll just get hurt."

      "He wants to send me to school in Ohio."

      "Wait here." She stormed out of the room. Seconds later, I heard them
arguing. The den door slammed quickly. I couldn't tell what they were
saying.

I sat up. I had a terrible headache. I went into the bathroom and put my
head under the tub faucet and turned on the cold water. I shivered for a
moment but it helped. I sat on the floor and took off my shoes and
pants. Maybe the cold water would help my thigh too. It did but by freezing
me more than anything else. I was soon out of the tub and back on my
bed. There was no noise coming from my father's den. He was convincing my
mother he was right. There was only one thing left to do.

	I dressed quickly and pulled out my knapsack then filled it with
two sets of clothes plus another set of underwear, socks and the shoes that
I'd taken off and replaced with sneakers. I found my flashlight and canteen
and cook kit then got the three hundred and sixty dollars out of its hiding
place in my desk. I looked around to see if there was anything else. I got
my library card out of the desk and the papers with names, addresses and
telephone numbers. My thigh hurt as I walked down the back stairs to the
kitchen. I stopped as I went down the back stairs to the pantry and went
back for the large butcher knife and stuffed it in with my clothes. I
noticed Adelaide wasn't there. The dinner was ready to be carried out to
the dining room. She'd been the one I heard going out the back door. He'd
lost another maid. I cut off a piece of meat loaf, grabbed two rolls and
went out the back door. The light was on in his den. He was standing in the
middle of the room. I pointed my hand at him like a gun and went "pow".

	Freddy's seemed like the logical first stop so he'd know what had
happened but that would be the first place they'd look when they realized I
was gone. Waiting at the streetcar turnaround would also be risky so I went
across the tracks and to the far side of the big bridge. My leg was
becoming more painful than my head. There I waited for a streetcar from
behind a truck in the gas station.

	My grandfather would want me to return home and try to work things
out, an impossible task. My mother would almost certainly call
Martin's. That left Bobby's. On the way, I remembered something Francis had
told me a year earlier. I needed to speak to him. Martin could arrange
that. Bobby's front door was slightly open when I arrived. He and Martin
were cleaning up the kitchen. Both were surprised to see me. Bobby appeared
to understand the meaning of the backpack.

	"What happened?"

	We sat in the living room. I told them.

	Martin asked, "If you run away, what are you going to do about
school?"

	"I don't know but I'm not going to Ohio."

	Bobby said, "You can stay here for a few days but the cops are
gonna ask around and sooner or later somebody's gonna tell `em you come
here."

	I asked Martin to bring Francis to me the next day after school.

	After Martin had left, I asked Bobby, "Don't you know some big kid
from the Westside of the city."

	"I knew one but I haven't seen him for a while. That's not a bad
idea. Nobody knows you over there but you can't go out during school hours
no matter where you go."

	He offered me some food.

	"Thanks, I ate some from our kitchen."

	"Malcolm, you sure you wanna do this? You're just eleven. How're
you gonna eat. Nobody's gonna wanna keep you for long. They can be charged
with kidnapping, I think. Even if they can't get kidnapping, there's gotta
be something they'll be charged with. Your old man's gonna go after you."

	"Then I'll kill myself. I'm not going back to him. Ever."

	Suicide had entered my mind briefly before but I surprised myself
with my saying it. Could I do that? Bert and his friends survived in
boarding schools. But, they weren't happy. From what they'd said, it was a
horrible place for someone like me, especially a military one. No, boarding
school was not something I'd accept. Whether I could kill myself or not was
an open question.

	Bobby moved close and embraced me. "Never talk like that. I'll take
care of you if I have to."

	His mother wasn't living with him. She'd found a man to live with
and came to work at the house. We went to bed and made tentative love. Try
as he could, Bobby couldn't take me to orgasm. We were both worried where
all this was leading.

	I helped prepare soup and the sauce for coleslaw.

	Steven came at three fifteen to get the cart and make his
pickups. I stayed hidden in Bobby's bedroom until he left.

	Martin arrived with Francis at four, followed moments later by
Freddy. My grandmother had told him I'd run away. He'd told her he'd go
look but didn't say he guessed I'd be with Bobby.

	"You father called the police last night. They won't start looking
`til tomorrow but they gonna find you, Maacum."

	"I'm not going back, Freddy, ever."

	Tears were forming in his eyes. "Then what're you gonna do? Wheah
you gonna go?"

	"Francis used to live on the Westside. He knows some people over
there, don't you?"

	"Gees, Malcolm, it's been over a year. Anyhow, none of them are
gonna want to take a runaway."

	"You said you knew kids over there who went with men. Maybe one of
them knows somebody."

	"I can go ask but not until Saturday. I can't be away that long
after school."

	Freddy was very worried. We went into Bobby's bedroom. The moment
the door was closed, he embraced me.

	"Ah tole you not ta go fightin' with him. Ah tole you. Now you
gonna go away an' when they gits you, they gonna lock you up and ahm nevah
gonna see you agin."

	I had no answer to his anguish. I just held on to him as tightly as
I could. "He was gonna send me to a military school in Ohio, Freddy. What
else could I do. At least we can see each other some if I'm in the city."

	"But they gonna catch you, Maacum. You know they will. Ahm gonna
talk to yo' granpa. He gotta do sumthin'."

	We talked for a couple of hours. At one point, Francis came in to
say he had to leave but would come Saturday or Sunday with whatever he
found out.

      I told Freddy all that had happened. He never let go of me. When it
came time to go, he said, "I'll come `n' sleep heah tomorra if you want."

      "What'll you tell your mother?"

      "That ah'm with you. She ain't gonna say nothin'. Anyways, she gonna
be heah Monday ta work so she gonna know wheah you are."

      Bobby had no problem with Freddy coming but said that he shouldn't
come more than that so others wouldn't figure out I was there. While we all
worked in the kitchen, Bobby admonished Martin and Steven, who arrived
while Freddy and I were in the bedroom, to not even mention my name outside
his house. I worried about ten year old Steven but we were going to have to
trust him since he was there so much.

	Robert came by around dinner time to see if there were leftovers he
could filch. I stayed hidden until he left.

	Bobby suggested we bleach my hair blond but then decided against it
because it stood out so much. Most kids had hair close to the color of
mine. However, he planned to buy me a hat and glasses. I wanted to go for a
run but it was too risky. I worked out on the living room floor then took a
shower. Bobby joined me. We necked under the water then retired to the bed
for sixty-nine. His sperm was sweet as it came. I let him taste a little.

	"We can put some in the coleslaw tomorrow, spice it up a little."

	I was still naked when Freddy arrived at eight fifteen. I quickly
pulled on my pants.

	"You never stop," he said.

	He had called my grandfather just before leaving the
supermarket. The police were involved and had my picture. They would be all
over Martin's area looking for me. My mother was distraught and spent the
previous night with her parents. My grandfather assumed Freddy knew where I
was and begged him to convince me to go home.

	We shared Bobby's mother's bed and slept as we had that last night
at my grandparent's. There was no lovemaking, just a lot of affection.

	Friday evening, the teen who'd fucked Bobby while he fucked me
knocked on the door. I lay on his mother's bed beating off unsuccessfully
while they screwed.

	I spend half of Saturday hidden in his mother's bedroom. Several
kids showed up along with a number of customers. Lying on the bed, trying
unsuccessfully to sleep, I again thought about the unfairness of my
situation then got really morose over the even greater unfairness, as I saw
it, of being homosexual.

      At four, Bobby turned down sex with Fish who had been coming by every
couple of weeks since Bobby wasn't going to his house any more. Fish left,
accompanied by Spike leaving Bobby and me alone in the house.

	Bobby came into the bedroom. "You oughta see that thing of Fish's
now. It's thicker than Kenny's."

	"You still seeing Kenny?"

	"He comes by about once a month but he's gotta pay. I don't need
the money and he is a great fuck but gotta keep him in line, you know."

	"You like being like we are?" I asked without looking at Bobby.

	He sat on the bed. "Sometimes, I suppose. You?"

	I sat beside him, took his hand and pressed my fingers between
his. "It's fun sometimes, but, it would have been better if I wasn't."

	"If there was a pill or something that would make you normal, well,
would you take it?" He was looking directly at me.

	I lifted my eyes to his. "Probably, yes."

	We stared at each other. "Would you?" I asked.

	He sighed. "I don't know. Everybody around here knows about me. I
supposed if I could go somewhere else and start over, somewhere where
nobody knew me but, then, I wouldn't have any friends, nobody to talk to or
anything."

	I said, "I'd just do it but it would have to make me act normal,
too, not like I do now." I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes. "Oh
Bobby. I wish I was normal but I don't think I ever will be. Freddy used to
think I might just change one day but now even he doesn't say that
anymore." I sat back up. "And look at all this crap I'm in. The real reason
my father hates me is because how I am. Bert was right. He's one of the
kids at camp. Freddy isn't the real reason my father hates me. It's `cause
I'm a queer."

	Freddy spent Saturday night with me then left early Sunday to go to
nine o'clock Mass with my grandparents. They wanted him to arrange a
meeting with them.

	Francis came by late Sunday morning with a tall young man I guessed
to be nearing twenty.

	"This is Frank. He lives over near the park over on Westside. He
wanted to meet you."

	That was obvious the moment he saw me. I was shirtless and sweating
from working out. His eyes were all over my body. This young man liked
boys.

      "You the boy needs a place to stay?" He sounded quite normal and
fairly friendly.

      I wasn't sure how to answer him.

      Francis said, "He's okay, Malcolm. I knew him a little but a couple
friends of mine say he's okay."

      I looked at him and said, "Mmm hmm."

      "How come you ran away?"

      I grinned. "That's a long story."

      "I've got all day."

      Martin showed up as we were sitting in the living room. I had to hide
when the knock came but returned when I heard his voice and saw him enter
alone.

      Martin helped tell the story of my ongoing war with my father. Frank
listened intently, shaking his head occasionally. Freddy arrived as we were
finishing. I introduced him and explained he was the now well known Freddy
in my life.

      Freddy had a message from my grandfather.

      My father had hired a detective who could well be in the area at that
moment. Bobby became worried.

      "If I was looking for you, I'd follow Freddy," he said.

      Freddy said, "I thought of that. I sneaked outta the basement and ran
up the alley, then waited to see if anyone was following. Weren't nobody."

      Frank offered to take me home for a few days and see how it worked
out between us but with the understanding that I couldn't set foot outside
during school hours, the same admonishment Bobby had given.

      Bobby thought it best to wait until night and use a taxi from
somewhere well away from his and Martin's house.

      I was wary and took Francis into Bobby's bedroom. Freddy came along.

      "What's this guy like to do?"

      "Everything but if you say no to something, he'll listen. The kids I
asked like him. He was some kind of basketball star in high school. He
works at a warehouse downtown." He gave me a sheet of paper. "Here's my
telephone number and address but don't come near my house. Call me and we
can meet somewhere if you want. The kids at school all know you ran
away. Most of them wouldn't say anything but you better not take the
chance. Nobody knows I've seen you.

      "You know who's worried most about you?" he asked.

      "Who?"

      "Victor. Can you believe it?"

      That news produced my first pang of guilt over worrying friends.

      Frank hung around until seven thirty. After hugging and kissing Bobby
in his bedroom, we walked the long way around the area, coming out a few
blocks in toward the center of town from Martin's. We ended up taking a
trolley when no empty taxi appeared.

      Frank's house was a narrow brick row house at the end of an alley. If
it had had a window on the side, it would have looked out over railroad
tracks below and a large park just past them. The house smelled like it
hadn't been cleaned for years. The kitchen was a mess. He apparently washed
dishes as he needed them. His bed didn't look like it had ever been
made. The sheets had been white but were no longer. The view out the
windows was clouded by long baked on dirt.

      Cleaning it all up would be something to occupy my time.

      Then he suggested we shower together. That was the biggest shock, not
him wanting to shower with me, but the metal shower stall. It was a
splotchy grayish brown with a ring of green mold around the base.

      He wanted to wash me, especially my midsection. He all but stuck his
finger up my ass. His cock wasn't much larger than John's from camp. If
things worked out, I could, with effort, probably take it.

      His bed stunk. It was hard to concentrate on the blow job he gave
me. The bed would be my first chore.

      I didn't sleep much that night. Memories of first nights in YMCA
camps surfaced in my mind only to be replaced by anger at my father then
frustration at the apparent immutability of my abnormal sexual orientation,
an orientation probably caused by the unwillingness of my father to be a
dad. He'd never given me a reason to be like him, never, as best as I could
remember, ever picked me up, played with me, even talked to me.

      I wondered if Frank and I could become friends, close friends. I
stared at him beside me. Could he learn to care for me like maybe a big
brother? I could give him plenty of sexual good times, even learn to take
his big cock up my rear.

      Then I began to worry if I could stand those long hours alone in the
house, if I could stand to live under the conditions there. In the morning,
I gave him five dollars to buy two cans of Ajax, a scrub brush, sponge and
mop. He had a rarely used broom and dustpan and a just opened box of
detergent he used to wash dishes.

      His refrigerator worked but not well. The freezer section was a block
of ice. We had fried eggs and bread with butter for breakfast and he headed
off to work.

      My first job was the bed. I took the covers off the mattress and
pillow and hauled them onto his small back porch and hung the mattress over
the railing and put the pillow up on the porch roof in hopes sun and air
would help a little. They did that annually at the YMCA camp and when kids
had wet their bed. I stripped and got into the shower stall with the sheets
and washed them three times. I'd never done it or anything like it before
but had watched our maids. The sheets and pillow case didn't turn white but
got close. With a towel around my waist, I hung them quickly as I could on
a clothesline in the back yard.

      By midmorning, I attacked the kitchen. I emptied the refrigerator and
left the door open so the ice would melt. What had been inside was rotten
so I threw it all away. Then I took everything out of two small wall
cabinets and, using a towel and detergent, scrubbed them, making a mess on
the kitchen floor. While they dried, I washed the three pots and plates,
bowls and glasses that had been in them. They looked great when I was
done. I had no idea how to clean off the stove's baked on grease so did the
sink and countertop. They would need the Ajax to be really clean. By
lunchtime, everything but the stove and refrigerator in the small kitchen
looked reasonably good. He had peanut butter on the windowsill but the
jelly in the refrigerator had mold in it. I had two peanut butter
sandwiches and water.

      I cleaned the refrigerator inside and out next. It took a while with
a kitchen knife to break off the larger chunks of ice, then I heated water
on the stove to melt the rest. The coil on the back was caked with dust but
the broom and detergent took care of that. By the time Frank got home, all
but the top and inside of the stove sparkled.

      "Wow," he said grinning ear to ear, "I shoulda found you last year
when I moved into this dump."

      He hadn't bought the Ajax or scrub brush. I gave him a second five
dollar bill and a list to buy food as well. He took me with him. We walked
up to the boulevard and took a bus a couple of miles to a new shopping
center with an Acme Supermarket in the middle. As we walked in, a pair of
boys about my age waved to him.

      "Friends?" I asked.

      "Yep," he said almost proudly.

      We spent eleven dollars and change and went home with four bags of
groceries and cleaning supplies. Some of the food required refrigeration. I
was concerned but unnecessarily. When we got back, the refrigerator was
sufficiently cold inside. We made hamburgers and boiled, then fried
potatoes.

      After cleaning up with me doing most, we went up to the boulevard and
three blocks up to a soda shop that was very much like Benson's across from
the streetcar turnaround. Frank's teenage friends hung there. He introduced
me as a cousin who was staying with him for a while. I wondered if they
knew what his sexual interests were. They gabbed on about the upcoming
basketball season, girls they knew and were screwing or not, somebody's
brother who was shot to death on a school playground, and other things that
just floated past me. The killing worried me a bit but the rest was just
boring. We were there for three hours and fifteen minutes.

      On the way home, I asked, `Is that what you do every night?'

      "Boring for you, huh? Nah, just a couple three times a week. We gotta
find you some friends."

      We hadn't spoken much in the house. Friends sounded like a good idea.

      He sucked me then asked me if I'd mind doing him. "You don't have to
if you don't want. I can put it between your legs, not inside, just
between."

      I'd never sucked a man before though I almost did Master Gorman at
camp. A cock between the legs felt good. I pointed between my legs. I did
use my mouth to slick him up, testing my feelings about fellating grown
men. It wasn't all that bad, just bigger. He put an old T shirt under my
crotch and lay on top of me. It did feel good against my perineum. He took
a while, pumping and moving back and forth then came quietly. I could feel
the faint pulsing as he shot sperm all over his T shirt and my balls.

      As he was wiping himself off, he asked, "You want the other kids to
know what you like? Francis says you like getting fucked long as it isn't
too big."

      "Just with kids that aren't going to say anything."

      "All my kids are like that. So I should tell `em?"

      "The ones you think are all right."

      We showered and went to bed.

      As I lay in bed, it occurred to me he had no washing machine.

      "How do you wash your clothes?"

      "I take `em to my mother's."

      "You think she'd wash mine too?"

      "Hell, no. She don't like doin' mine and I don't wan' her ta know I
got a kid livin' with me. You gotta wash `em yourself."

      I'd never seen anyone wash clothes except with a machine but I
supposed I could learn. It couldn't be that different from sheets.

      I made my first scrambled eggs the next morning but put in too much
salt. The orange juice we squeezed by hand from the oranges we'd bought
tasted as good as back home.

      With the Ajax and scrub brush in hand, the bathroom was my project
for the day. The shower stall was first. It took a couple of hours
scrubbing, but finally was shining white inside. The sink and toilet were
easier. The floor I thought was black had red and yellow linoleum. When I
heard kids voices outside, I knew school was out and wandered up the
street. Frank had given me the name of a somewhat distant Catholic
parochial school to say I attended if asked. Some kids looked at me but no
one said anything. I walked far enough to get lost. He was home when I
found my way back.

      We went out to find some friends he felt I could trust.

      "Don't tell `em nothing, just that you go to St. Thomas
Aquinas. Nobody around here goes there so you're safe saying that. Remember
your name is Tom Bailey." His last name was Bailey.

      We walked several blocks across toward city center. He spotted a
brown skinned boy sitting on a stoop and waited until he noticed him. The
boy responded to his wave by coming our way. Frank took me around the
corner from his house.

      "Genie, this is my cousin Tom. He's gonna be stayin' with me for a
while and don't know nobody around here."

      Genie looked me over. He was about twelve but an inch or so shorter
than me. He had dark brown hair and skin as dark as some Negroes though it
was easy to see he had none of their blood in him. He was handsome in a
rugged sort of way with slightly reddish lips that were probably nice to
suck on if he'd allow it. His long hair was straight and combed back in
what was called a ducktail in those days. His brown eyes looked hard but
smiled easily. He was missing one of his incisors. His handshake was
firm. His hands were quite a bit smaller than mine but thicker.

      "Who else is around he can meet?"

      "Dumpy just went by with Fritz. That's all I seen today."

      His voice had not begun to change confirming what his face told me.

      We walked across his street and up to the next corner. Half a dozen
boys from seven or eight to about fourteen were sitting on or about a car
with no wheels. Frank sent Genie to bring a couple to us.

      "Genie Shackleford is a tough kid, good to have for a friend. Nobody
fucks with him. Got indian blood in him."

      "Does he do things with you?"

      "He just gets done but he's got a great body and a nice dick. Hard to
believe he's almost fourteen, huh?"

      It was.

      He returned with two other pleasant looking boys, one a bit taller
though possibly younger. He was Dumpy Keller. The other, Fritz something,
had a Polish sounding long last name and was about Genie's size. He was
tanned but would probably be fairly light skinned by winter. His blond hair
was combed in the same style as Genie's. Dumpy had crew cut hair the color
of mine. They both shook hands. Frank led us off to his house where they
used up my box of Wheaties and all the milk.

      Dumpy went into the bathroom and said loudly, "Hey Frank, you get
married or somethin'?"

      "Nah, just ambitious. Got sick of looking at the dirt."

      I was a little miffed until I realized I shouldn't have been around
during the day to do the work. Frank smiled at me and made me feel better
by saying, "Tom helped a lot too."

      Genie pulled Frank into the kitchen for a moment then came back
out. "I'm first," he said and kicked off his shoes. His feet and the
insides of his shoes stunk.

      Frank motioned for me to join them. Inside the bedroom, he said,
"Genie wants to fuck you, okay?"

      I shrugged my shoulders and began undressing. Genie dropped his pants
and dirty underwear and waited. His too large shirt covered everything I
wanted to see.

      "You gonna wear that? It's gonna get in the way."

      Genie grinned at Frank and unbuttoned it. He did have a nice body but
it needed a bath. His growing uncircumcised cock had little pieces of
something stuck to the tip.

      "Wanna shower first?" I asked him.

      "I hope you're good," he said as we went into the bathroom.

      His skin had little scars on it but was generally very smooth. He let
me wash him everywhere but his behind. He blocked my hand when I went there
and said, "I'll do that."

      His balls were the size of Freddy's marbles but his cock promised to
be larger when it hardened. I washed it well expecting it to grow there in
the shower but it stayed soft. We went back to the bed where I had him lie
down while I lubricated him. A quick roll around inside my mouth caused a
near immediate erection. I continued doing that for a while to enjoy his
lightly muscled but hard body. There wasn't an ounce of fat on him. His
tummy didn't have much muscle tone but it was flat and smooth as a table
top. The brown in his middle wasn't as dark as the rest of him. He'd been
swimming somewhere.

      I let him go and lay face down on the bed. He got behind me and
pulled my hips up so he could fuck me on his knees. I wanted to feel his
body against mine but this was his first time. He poked all the way in with
one push and began fucking right away. Frank sat beside us for a while then
got up and watched from behind. Genie's strokes were powerful and poked at
or near my sweet spot with every thrust. In a few more months, he'd be a
great fuck.

      He smacked against me for a while then pushed me down and lay on top
of me. The feel of his soft skin on mine enhanced my enjoyment. His hands
went under my shoulders. He stopped then continued slowly. I wasn't sure
but I thought I felt his cock pulsing. Then, he rolled off me and caught
his breath.

      Frank asked, "How was it?"

      Genie answered unenthusiastically, "Pretty good."

      I said, "Thanks."

      Frank sucked Dumpy's long cock, which I would have liked to have had
up my rear. I sucked Fritz's short thing. Fritz had a body as good as
Genie's but a stubby little cock that sat on a tight ball sack. I sucked it
all. He pumped hard and came in two minutes or so.

      Frank went to see a friend and sent me off with my three new friends.

      Genie said, "Always stay close to me and won't be no problems."

      Thus started another boring evening. We joined some others sitting on
the front stoop of someone's row house and talked about fucking girls, a
fight in the park, a woman on the next block who got mad about the kids
playing ball in the street and called the cops and reasons why various boys
not there were punks or assholes. Genie took me home at nine. Frank wasn't
there so we sat on the front stoop. He told me about his drunken father who
beat on them each weekend.

      "We stay around the corner `til my big sister says he's in
bed. Problem is the cops make us go home after eleven and sometimes the
motherfucker don't fall asleep `til after midnight. Depends what he's
drinkin'."

      Genie was the third child of nine. The eldest was his sister,
seventeen, who, according to Genie, kept the family together despite his
father's violent outbursts when drunk two or three times a week and his
mother's loss of interest in her family. His older brother, who was in the
state reformatory for burglary, had been arrested a dozen times since age
eight. Genie had been arrested twice, once for burglary with his brother
and the other time for breaking the store window of a man who refused to
return what he paid for some bad eggs. There were four more boys and two
girls, the youngest seven months old. Genie considered himself the
protector of his younger siblings even though he didn't spend much time in
the house.

      "When my old man comes in, I go out" he explained.

      I found it interesting none of them discussed their family when all
were together yet here, with just the two of us, I was told a family
history of misery. It made me briefly re-examine running away. A difference
seemed to be that they'd grown up with their problems, had never known
anything else. Misery was part of their daily life. I laughed to
myself. The son-of-a-bitch should have started beating me younger.

      Frank came home at ten thirty and promised me a key the next day. I
thanked Genie for staying with me.

      "Ain't no never mind," he said.

      Frank stuck his cock between my legs again then we went to sleep, his
cum still on my balls.

      I washed my clothes naked Thursday morning so all could be done at
the same time. It was harder than I expected and not a great job. Again
with a towel around my waist, I hung everything out to dry on the two back
yard clotheslines. I was still nude when Genie arrived after school and had
to lie on the bed for him to relieve his sexual tension.

      I spend my afternoons and evenings with Genie and his many friends
the rest of that week. They ate at our house, using up the food that I
bought at the supermarket when Genie, Fritz and I went out there Wednesday
afternoon. I bought enough Wheaties and a few other odds and ends like
carrots, which they liked, raw. Wednesday, I called my grandparents and
Bobby's from a payphone at the shopping center. It told the kids it was
private to my family, which it was, and they stayed away.

      My grandmother sounded very relieved to hear my voice.

      "Where are you, dear?"

      "I'm with somebody and I'm okay so don't worry."

      "Please come see us. You know the police and a detective are looking
for you. If you are in the city they are going to find you, especially if
you're near your friends around Edward's."

      "I'm nowhere near there. I promise. I can't go to your house yet
because there might be somebody watching."

      "We can meet you somewhere if you like. We just want to talk."

      "Let's wait a few days, granma. I'll call you back. I've gotta hang
up now. I love you."

      I'd been told never to talk for over a minute. If they were tracing
the call, that didn't give them enough time. Someone else said three
minutes but I stayed well under a minute.

      Bobby told me he had been visited by the police and my father's
detective. They'd all told him he'd be hauled into Juvenile Court if he
gave me any help. The visits had been after three so no one noticed he
wasn't going to school.

      "But don't worry. I'm here if you need me but don't say anything on
the telephone in case they're listening. Send me a note with someone."

      I wanted to arrange to see Freddy. I had Francis' telephone number
but decided to wait until the weekend.

      Friday night, Genie asked me if I'd like to make some money
hustling. I didn't understand.

      "That's goin' out on the boulevard or down on the avenue and getting'
picked up by fags. I get fifty cent or a buck lettin' `em blow me. You blow
`em or let `em fuck you, it's more."

      I remembered the movie theater. "Isn't there a movie theater where we
can do that?"

      He chuckled. "Not no more. Fire Department closed that firetrap down
six months ago. We keep hearin' it's gonna open again but they ain't done
no work on it yet."

      We went to the Avenue on the other side of the park. We stood by a
wall with three others in a small park where the Avenue curved and watched
cars going by. One boy, a small blonde, was picked up minutes after we
arrived. An old black Ford stopped and motioned to the eldest among us, a
teenager about fifteen. They spoke for a moment. The boy came back and
asked me if I was interested in going out with the man.

      "If Genie goes too."

      Genie went to the car and negotiated.

      He came back and whispered to me, a dollar for him to blow you and
seventy-five cents for me. You're new is why it's more."

      The man drove us to an empty lot behind a darkened store. He said his
name was John. Genie said about me, "His too."

      "Let's get in the back, there's more space there."

      I pulled down my pants. He got on his knees and lay across the
seat. I was soft. He played with my dick until it grew then went down on
me. He was good at it, taking me to orgasm in a couple minutes. I traded
places with Genie and he got the same treatment.

      We collected our money and were driven back to a block from the
little park. The man drove ahead of us and took another boy.

      Genie told me, `That guy's weird. All he ever does is suck, nothing
else. This other queer kid was ready to blow him for just a buck and the
guy says no. Ain't that weird?"

      I agreed it was weird.

      Our second customer drove a two year old DeSoto. He wanted the new
face too. Genie knew him. He took us to a motel out the boulevard, parked,
went to the office and paid, came back with a key and took us into a room
that smelled of mildew and something else I couldn't identify.

      While we were waiting in the car, Genie told me, "This fag likes us
to take a shower with him then he'll blow us. He likes to stick his cock
between our legs like Frank. I charge fifty cents extra for that. You blow
`im and you can get two dollars. I don't know what he'd pay to fuck. Up to
you."

      The man was another `John'. I again said I was John and Genie called
himself Mike. We showered together. He washed us. I let him do
everything. Genie let him do all but his ass. The man fingered my hole and
said, "oohh". He was a little heavyset, sort of like Robert grown up but
with a cock I was sure would tear me apart. I let him blow me and charged
extra fifty cents for him to get off between my legs.

      "What're you guys doing tomorrow? Wanna go somewhere?"

      I let Genie handle that. "Nah, we got somethin' we gotta do. Thanks
anyway."

      We had him leave us off near Frank's and went there. I had my key and
let us in. Genie looked around at the clean house.

      "You did all this din't ya? Frank never cleaned up nothin' in his
life `cept his dick and he don't always do that." He chuckled at his little
joke.

      I didn't say anything, a tacit admission he was right.

      "You're a runaway, ain't ya? Don't worry. I ain't gonna say nothin'
ta nobody. I stayed here oncet last year when I got real pissed at my old
man."

      "Why'd you go back?"

      "Frank's a pig."

      We both chuckled. I worried my older brother fantasy was just that, a
fantasy.

      I told him the basics of my story.

      "So you thinkin' a livin' here?"

      "I'm not going back to my father's house."

      "You ain't even twelve. Truant officer gonna get you
eventual. Somebody's gonna rat you out. People `round here `re all nosey as
shit."

      "Then I'll have to figure out a way to make them think I'm in
school."

      "This fag's gonna take us out to some river tomorrow. Wanna go?"

      The man's name was Bill though nobody believed it was his real
name. He regularly took kids from the area on trips out to the countryside
where they ate a picnic lunch and swam when it was warm enough.

      I asked Frank about him when he arrived after eleven that night.

      "He's sort of okay, thinks he's somethin' special `cause he's got
money and a car. I could have kids like him if I had a car, and money. I
got a couple a kids comin' over tomorrow night. I kinda wanna be alone with
`em so stay out until about nine, okay?"

      Frank screwed me between the legs after we went to bed and fell
asleep with his T shirt wrapped around his dick. I cleaned up in the
bathroom and wiped off the sheet. In the morning, I washed it and hung it
in the back yard to dry.

      Bill, as he called himself, was a dark haired muscular young man of
medium height about thirty with a Ford station wagon. He wore thick glasses
and squinted a lot. His very correct English indicated a good
education. There were six of us including Genie, Fritz, Dumpy and two
others I hadn't seen before. One, who appeared more attractive each time I
looked at him, might have been one of the hustlers in the park the previous
night. His blonde hair had caught my attention but he'd been picked up
before I had a good look.

      I learned the two new faces were Sammy and Junebug, eleven and
thirteen respectively. Sammy was slight with whispy blonde hair and a
beautiful face. His blue eyes were like beacons. He looked much too fragile
to be hanging around with the rest of this bunch. Junebug was a hard
looking boy who nonetheless smiled easily. His tough, broad, freckled face
didn't seem the type a man seeking pretty boys would be interested in. His
short sleeved shirt showed biceps one wouldn't expect on so small a boy. I
was at least an inch taller than him but didn't have his broad shoulders or
thick neck. Sammy, on the other hand, also not as tall as me, couldn't have
weighed more than sixty pounds.

      Bill got my name and learned I lived with Frank. That seemed to
bother him somewhat. He asked the others how they were doing in school and
at home like he was a counselor of some kind. We bought food at the
supermarket where I'd purchased what was in our house and rode for about an
hour out into the country to a remote spot by a metal bridge above a thirty
to forty foot wide stream. I attempted to strike up a conversation with
Sammy but he seemed either too shy or following Bill's example of
avoidance.

      Carrying the food and swim gear including a couple of inflatable
rafts in three knapsacks Bill carried in his car, we walked down by the
water then up a path to a large rock formation beside a small open area
with evidence of numerous prior camp fires. Everyone stripped off their
clothes and awaited a swim suit. Junebug's attraction for Bill became clear
as his pants fell. He had a growing uncircumsized cock that probably
reached four thick inches when hard and a pair of balls the size of shooter
marbles. His body was not as well formed as his arms but there wasn't much
fat either. Sammy, still physically a little boy, was as slight as he
looked and sported a very average but nicely formed circumcised cock, the
only one in the group aside from mine.

      Bill checked out my body carefully and handed me a tight fitting suit
that barely fit. My cock and balls were squeezed to a point of
discomfort. I noticed the others were also tight but not as much.

      "You got another suit for me? This one's too tight."

      He looked through his bag but there was nothing.

      "Swim naked if you want. There's nobody else around here but us."

      I wasn't sure if the suggestion was due to his coolness toward me
because of my connection with Frank or a genuine lack of bathing suits. It
didn't really matter. I'd always enjoyed the feel of the water at the YMCA
against my bare body. I took off the suit, handed it to Bill, ran to the
water's edge and dove in. It was refreshing but cold. My cock and balls
shriveled up smaller than the suit had made them.

      Bill did warm up to me in the water. I was the best swimmer and
strong enough to enjoy the horseplay. He was as strong as he looked, easily
lifting me and tossing me out into the water. It got horsier as the morning
wore on. Genie came up behind me in the water with his suit down and poked
me in the rear with his hard on. I tried to get him inside but cold water
isn't much of a lubricant. I dove below the surface and mouthed his dick
for a moment.

      Others noticed what we were doing and shortly everyone was on the
shore looking for some sexual attention that Bill was happy to
provide. Unfortunately for Bill, word circulated quickly that my posterior
was available. Only Sammy and Fritz, the two smallest organs, went to him
for service. Genie and Junebug took turns blowing up one of the inflatable
rafts. Everyone was naked at that point.

      Bill watched rather than sucked as I lubed up Genie with my mouth
then lay belly down to receive him. As before, he pulled my hips up and
pushed right in. He banged away. Bill felt my dick. Finding it quite erect,
he massaged it between his fingers then slid them back between my legs to
feel Genie's cock slip in and out of me. I think the audience made
impossible what had been difficult in private. Genie slugged away for
probably ten minutes then faked an orgasm. I felt sorry for him. Dumpy
jumped in immediately and stuck in his dry cock. There was significant
lubrication due to the length of Genie's fucking but not enough to prevent
pain. I rolled away quickly.

      `Wait a minute. That hurt! You gotta get it wet first.'

      He started to make a remark but a look from Genie stopped it like a
lasso on a heifer. Bill did the honors and Dumpy tried again. My anus still
stung from his attempted dry entry but his slim four plus inches felt so
good inside, I forgot it. Bill pushed his hand in again. I had to pull him
to me and whisper in his ear, `Please don't touch my dick too much or I'll
cum.'

      He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. Dumpy's cock was the perfect
length and diameter to excite my prostate and the entire inside of my
rectum. He lay on top of me and pumped at a moderate rate, thrusting harder
as he went along then very fast at the end. He went rigid and throbbed like
he was firing off something though it couldn't have been much based on his
ball size.

      Dumpy´s fucking had felt great but my attention was split between
what was going on inside my rectum and the vision of beautiful Sammy
sitting naked with his little hard on and his blue eyes fixed on the
action.

      Junebug was nice but too rough, a bit like Steve at camp before I
tamed him. He came quickly. Fritz tried and ended up with what was probably
another fake climax. Sammy, to my chagrin, was done by Bill.

      Bill covered Sammy and me with Coppertone so we could remain naked as
we ate. All but Sammy and I sunned themselves afterward. We sat under a
rock overhang and talked. I found him very attractive.

      "Where do you live?" I asked.

      "A block and a half from you, up the alley and down the street in the
house on the corner where the little novelty store is. We live on the
second floor."

      "How old are you?"

      "Eleven, you?

      "Eleven. What grade are you in?"

      "Third. I was sick a lot."

      "What'd you have."

      "Lots of stuff. Meningitis, hepititis, some kind of infection in my
kidneys."

      I knew very little of the first two and couldn´t imagine the third
causing him to lose three years of school.

      He said, "You're not from around where we live. Where's your family
live?"

      "I'm kind of an orphan, car wreck." Dead parents seemed the easiest
kind.

      "So how come you're with Frank?"

      "He's the only one would take me." I needed to tell Frank all this.

      "I'm kinda an orphan too except my father's alive in prison. But my
mother's dead. I live with my aunt. She works in the store downstairs. What
grade are you in?"

      "Seventh." I had to explain why I was so far ahead of him.

      "Does Frank fuck you?"

      "Unh uh."

      "How come you let them do it?" He pointed at the boys lying on the
ground.

      "It feels good.

      He stared ahead for a minute. "Are you a fag?"

      "Sorta, I suppose."

      "You let men fuck you or suck them?"

      "Neither."

      "What's it feel like when Dumpy and them put it in you?"

      I began to suspect interest. "Pretty good except for Junebug. He did
it too hard."

      "Did you ever let them shoot sperm into your mouth?"

      "Mmm hmm. You?"

      "Oh, no. I don't do that."

      I asked, "You like it when they suck yours?"

      "Some. Bill does it pretty good. But he always wants to take kids
like Genie and Junebug."

      "You don't like Genie?"

      "I don't know. He just seems awful mean."

      "He ever do anything to you?"

      "He wanted me to suck him once when we were with this other fag."

      "Did you?"

      He sighed. "A little."

      "You wanna come to my house after we go back?"

      "I can't. I gotta watch the store when my aunt goes shopping."

      "Tomorrow?"

      "Whatta you wanna do?"

      "Nothing. Talk. Go out and do something. Go to the park or
something. I've never been to the park."

      That idea seemed to energize him. "Okay, I'll show you the park."

      He told me about the swings, teeter totters, jungle gym and the great
sand box.

      With the food all tucked away in our intestines, we swam and paddled
about on the two rafts. Junebug tried to fuck me on one so I turned it
over. We wrestled playfully in the water. Strong as he looked, I was more
powerful. He seemed puzzled by that.

      Dumpy and Junebug fell asleep on the way home. Bill had me up front
with Genie. He asked me where I was from, about my family, why I lived with
Frank, where I went to school and what grade I was in. I gave the same
answers I'd given Sammy. I don't think he believed me. He invited me to go
with him again the following Saturday.

      Genie went home with me to eat. I apparently had better and more food
than was available at his house. We made eggs and hamburgers.

      I learned the terminology of seeking men for sex. What we did was
called hustling or, if you went with some guy regularly, it was called
going out. All the men were fags, a term I resented.

      We went with two more that evening. The second wanted us to spend the
night with him. Genie wanted two dollars extra each to do it.

      "That means one of you will let me go in your backside?"

      "Not me," said Genie definitively.

      "Me neither," I answered.

      It was nearly ten so we went to my house. The lights were out so I
figured Frank had finished and left with his two boys. We went in to
wait. He wasn't back by eleven thirty. I suggested Genie had better go
home.

      "Nah, I can stay here if you want, so you won't be alone."

      He fucked me again and we slept.

      Frank didn't come home all night. Genie said not to worry. He was
like that, probably at some friend's house. I didn't feel as sure.

      We had a breakfast of eggs and toast we made on a spatula over the
stove. Sammy showed up as we were toasting and ate with us.

      We sat on the back porch and discussed men Genie and Sammy had gone
out with. They had an entirely different perspective.

      "I can get John with the green Dodge to give me a dollar every time
by telling him it's for my mother," said Genie about one.

      Sammy described another. "Tom with the convertible? He promised to
take me to the movies if my aunt lets me go out one night."

      Genie talked about the money. Sammy talked about the men.

      "That fuck, the John with the gray Ford, best he ever gives is fifty
cent and he wants to stick it between your legs. I never let him do that
for fifty cent." I was surprised Genie would let anyone do that for any
amount.

      "That's because John's poor", explained Sammy. "You see how he never
drives around and around? That's `cause he can't pay for the gas."

      After making ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches and finishing off the
milk, we went to the park. Genie watched, then got into a discussion with
some teenagers while we played on the swings and jungle gym.

      About mid afternoon, Genie walked quickly from the group he'd been
with to tell us, "They said Frank got busted in a stolen car last night
with Vinny Castellano and two kids. They got him at the precinct up near
the shopping center.'