Date: Fri, 01 Apr 2011 07:55:57 -0600
From: michaelpete@hushmail.com
Subject: Malcolm 21

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

Send comments to michaelpete@hushmail.com.

Michael Peterson
MALCOLM
CHAPTER 21 – BACK HOME

	My grandparents decided to celebrate my return with an expensive
midday meal at the exclusive University Club where my grandfather was a
long time member, long ago graduate, and occasional teacher at the
university. They dressed Freddy in a suit and tie they'd bought him for
church and me in the other best clothes Freddy had there. The shoes were
tight.

      We received some curious looks as we walked in. A white jacketed
Negro cleaning plates off a table stood and smiled at all of us. Our waiter
seemed nervous.

      My grandfather commented, "It's possible this is the end of my
membership at this club."

      Probably due to their happiness at having me back in the fold, my
grandparents either forgot or ignored the Catholic proscription of meat on
Friday. We had a salad then steak, mashed potatoes and peas, finishing the
meal off with apple pie and ice cream. The Negro busboy came to our table
twice to make sure we had enough water and that Freddy had his napkin in
his lap.

      At the house, after giving some time for all that good food to
digest, Freddy and I closed the door to our bedroom and stripped. He let me
kiss his lips several times but kept his mouth closed. His dick was growing
and felt better than ever sliding back and forth inside me. For a while,
his second orgasm didn't seem like it was going to happen. I struggled not
to cum before him. He pumped hard and fast, panting and sweating, his damp
body sliding up and down my back until he grunted a few times in a row and
throbbed inside me. He quickly reached under us and pulled on my penis,
getting me off almost immediately.

      "That's `cause we haven't done it for a long time," he said still
trying to catch his breath.

      I pulled the covers over us after we parted. We planned to sleep in
that bed the following night unless there was a problem.

      "Don't worry, theah's not going to be a problem." At least he
combined the accent I loved with his correct English.

      Mother took me home at five. We dropped off Freddy above his
house. My father wasn't home. The door to my bedroom was back where it came
from. There was new wallpaper on the wall where the other door had been
installed to form my prison.

      I flopped on top of my bed. It felt comfortably familiar.

      My father came home half an hour later. I steeled myself to be
cordial but nothing more. Mother appeared instead.

      "We're going out to dinner. Tell Thelma what you'd like and she'll
fix it for you."

      She kissed me on the forehead and left.

      I took off my shirt and did exercises, a lot less than I'd been able
to do before, then, after telling the skinny new maid I would fix myself
something later, I went for a run. Exhaustion overcame me before the top of
the hill so I slowed to an easy trot. Nearly two months of only occasional
exercise and greasy food had taken its toll. My next gym class would be a
bit embarrassing though I still figured to be able to outdo any of my less
ambitious classmates.

      I got home with thoughts of a big bowl of Wheaties only to find there
were none. There was no cereal nor milk had there been some. A frightful
thought raced briefly through my mind. Was it because I wouldn't be around
that long? I sat and decided it was because my mother hadn't known I'd be
there that day and had been at my grandparent's since morning. I made a ham
and cheese sandwich and, on a whim, drank a bit of the wine in the liquor
cabinet.

      I was asleep before my parents got home.

      In the morning, I stayed in my room to avoid contact with my
father. My mother fixed me bacon and eggs with toast and orange juice and
brought it to my room.

      "Your father wants you to clean up the driveway and walks before you
go anywhere," she told me.

      I did and did it well, then went off to Martin's neighborhood. Before
I left, mother gave me a dollar. She'd never before given me more than a
quarter.

      My first stop was Edward's grocery store to see Freddy. He was
packing bag after bag for a huge purchase. He grinned at me and tossed a
couple of cans in the air while sticking in another. He'd become a juggler.

      Martin was at Bobby's when I got to his house. Dickie was off
somewhere with his mother. His father was working on a roof gutter. He came
down off his ladder to pat me on the back and welcome me "back to
civilization".

      Bobby's house was empty even though the door was open. Aunt Martha
came in almost behind me. "Oh, Maacum! Oh, Maacum!" She hugged me mightily
to herself. "You had me so worried, boy. I oughta whup you but ah'm so
happy ta see you. Lemme look at you. You see, you lost weight. Look at yo'
face an' yo' neck. You ain't been eatin' right. Come on in heah and let me
feed you something".

      She dragged me by the hand toward the kitchen. It smelled
great. They'd been baking different kinds of rolls. She took one, broke it
open and stuffed a chunk of butter inside. "Heah, you eat that whiles I fix
you sumthin' good and healthy."

      She put some of Bobby's vegetable soup on the stove, stopped, then
came and pulled me out of the chair. There were tears in her eyes.

      "Don't you evah do that again, boy." She embraced me, nearly
suffocating me.

      I hugged her back, wishing again she had been my mother.

      Wiping her face, she went and pulled a tuna and macaroni casserole
out of the refrigerator.

      Martin and Steven came in with a cart full of jars and metal
containers. Martin grabbed hold of me and nearly squeezed my head off. Aunt
Martha heated more soup and tuna and fed them, too, then put the jars into
the sink for them to wash after filling their stomachs.

      Bobby came in with his mother as Martin and Steven were finishing and
asked to eat too. I hid from him, going out one entry to the kitchen as he
came in the other. I sneaked up behind him and gave him a hug. He whirled
around and kissed me on the lips.  Aunt Martha shook her head and went
about preparing their lunches.

      "You don't know how much I missed you. C'mere, I wanna talk to you."
He led me by the hand into his bedroom, closed the door and embraced me
with his arms and lips. "God, I wish I had time to fuck you. You owe me
one. I've been so worried about you." He kissed some more than grabbed my
crotch. I was like stone.

      "See, you miss me too."

      He unzipped my fly, pulled out my peter and dropped to his knees and
sucked me to fruition in less than two minutes. Then, he gently put it back
inside and zipped me up. After kissing me again, he said, "Now you really
owe me. You gonna stick around?"

      "Until about quarter to eight. Then I'm gonna go meet Freddy."

      "Mmm, yummy. That's plenty of time. Lemme go do my work."

      I tried to make myself useful but tended to be in the way. Everybody
I wanted to be with was working, Freddy at the supermarket, Martin and
Bobby right there in the kitchen. I considered going out to find Robert,
Simon or Spike but with Aunt Martha and Bobby's mother there, I couldn't
have done anything.

      I went for a walk but didn't run into a single familiar face before
stopping at Martin's house. Dickie was home and hugged me all the way to
the living room. His mother wanted to know if things had been resolved at
home. I got the impression she might be worried the police were still
looking for me.

      "I went home yesterday with my mother. I'm going back to school
Tuesday."

      Dickie sat on my lap. His mother told him to get off but I said it
was okay. I enjoyed being loved.

      "Have you seen Martin?"

      "Yes, but they're all busy so there was nothing for me to do."

      "They work very hard, especially on Saturdays. Like Freddy. What a
wonderful boy he is. And all he does is talk about you. He was very worried
when you were gone."

      Dickie pulled my face toward him. "You wanna read to me?"

      It took a moment for me to remember the last time I'd pretended to
read to him. It was pure subterfuge to hide the sex we had. This time,
though, I felt like actually reading to him.

      "Go find a book."

      "We got some upstairs."

      "Well, bring it down here."

      The look on his face made it clear that was not what he wanted to do.

      "Come read to me upstairs." He grabbed my arm. I smiled at his mother
and followed him. He went for my belt the moment the door was closed. We
sixty nined on top of his bed. He let my peter slip out of his mouth and
asked, "When are you going to sleep here?"

      "I don't know, soon."

      "How about tonight?"

      "I gotta go to my grandparents tonight with Freddy."

      "You and Freddy. Martin and Steven. I don't have nobody. I always
gotta stay in the house. I let Steven stick his thing in me."

      "How'd it feel?"

      "Good, but he does it too fast."

      I pushed his head back to my crotch and sucked on his fat little
cock. He came first but kept on pumping. It seemed certain his sucking was
deliberately insufficient to take me to climax. I was concerned his mother
would peek in the door to see how we were doing. Was he hoping for that? I
faked a climax and sat up claiming the ultra sensitivity that usually
accompanies the final stage of an orgasm.

      "You didn't get your feeling," he accused me.

      "Sure I did. We better get dressed before your mother sees us like
this."

      "How come you don't wanna do it with me?"

      That made me feel guilty. "I do Dickie, but not in the middle of the
afternoon when someone can see us."

      "Then take me somewhere."

      "Like for a walk?"

      I don't care.'

      His mother readily agreed. We went to the supermarket and said hi to
Freddy then across the boulevard to look at the nice houses on the other
side. I only had a vague recollection of the location of Butch's house from
leaving him there after camp. Several looked like they might be his. I
asked a teenager on a bicycle but he didn't know him. We went back to the
supermarket and looked in the telephone book. There was a page and a half
of Stevenson's. In the Yellow Pages there were three lawyers with that last
name but they only had downtown office addresses. I tried their names in
the white pages but didn't find any in that part of town. It was getting on
dinner time so I walked Dickie home. Martin was there.

      "Where'd you guys go?"

      "Trying to find Butch Stevenson's house. He's the kid from here who
went to camp with me. We looked in the phone book all over."

      "You ask Mr. Wilson at Edward's? I'll bet he knows `em."

      We rushed back to the supermarket. Mr. Wilson went to his office and
came back with the address. Freddy came back to Martin's house for dinner
then returned so another bagger could go eat. I asked Martin about his
father's attitude toward Freddy as a Negro.

      "He never said anything but I think he was a little pissed at first
that my mother let him in the house and was feeding him but now he really
likes Freddy. He likes to see kids that work, like me now. An' he says
Freddy's got better manners than most of the white kids around here."

      "What's your mother think?"

      "She likes kids who work too and go to school. And she really loves
Freddy now. When you were running away, she worried a lot about how sad
Freddy got and talked to him and all. She knows his mother from Bobby's and
wants her to come have dinner with us. My father's worried what the
neighbors will say but she don't care. Anyhow, Freddy's mother never has
time."

      I went to Bobby's after dinner. His mother had left. He was sitting
on the sofa going over sales papers, already naked, sporting a little stand
of brown pubic hair above and to the sides of his much larger erect nearly
five inches of cock.

      "I thought you were going to stick around. Never mind, come here."

      He pulled me on top of him and kissed for a while, nearly sucking my
tongue out of my head. Without releasing my mouth, he stood and unbuttoned
my shirt then opened my pants. I let him do the work while I fondled his
cock. It was amazing how much it had grown, or seemed to have grown, in
less than two months, especially the pubic hair.

      I pulled my tired lips away and suggested, "Let's go to the bedroom."

      "Too far." He sucked on my neck as he pulled my shirt off from
behind.

      "If you wanna fuck, we need something," I insisted.

      "Right here. Take off your shoes, quick."

      He knelt on the floor then pushed between my legs and sucked gently
on my cock as I sat on the sofa. His head was pressed into my crotch when I
leaned over to pull the laces on my shoes.

      Bobby sucked in my balls and pushed his hand under me to finger my
hole.

      Once my shoes were off, I tried to remove my pants but he was
kneeling on them. He lifted one knee at a time as I pulled. Without taking
his mouth off my crotch, he pushed up on the front of my T shirt so I took
it off too.

      He ran his hand around under the sofa, his lips still on my dick, and
came up with his jar of lubricant. He pushed me back and over until I was
lying face up, my head on the arm of the short sofa.

      He stood with his hands on his hips. "Shit, you're right. Let's go."

      He grabbed my hand and led me at a trot into the bedroom and on top
of the bed. I watched him drip oily goo out of the jar into his hand twice
and coat his stiff penis with it. I rolled over and presented my ass,
arching it as high as I could without getting on my knees.

      He wiped his hand in my crack and crawled over me while wiping his
hand on some toilet paper. He didn't touch his cock, just pushed it between
my cheeks and moved his hips up and back until the head was where it needed
to be.

      I felt his cock spread my pucker open. He never stopped, just moved
slowly. The goo was very slippery. His glans slipped inside like a bullet
into a firing chamber, sliding comfortably against my prostate, then
settling deep inside me, his soft pubic hairs against my ass flesh.

      "You're getting bigger, Malcolm. Who's been up there recently?"

      "Men."

      "You little whore," he purred and began fucking.

      He did it better, almost like the rocking motion of Robert but
without the stomach to rock back and forth on. Each penetration moved my
anus and rectum up and down and ran his cock head diagonally across my
sweet spot. It was like he was fucking my entire middle. I kept my rear up
to avoid my cock coming into contact with the bed and ending my thrill.

      "You been letting Robert fuck you?"

      "A little."

      "This is good.

      "I know."

      He fucked slowly but pushed in as far as possible each time. When he
came, I visualized the sperm shooing out the end of his urethra into the
soft flesh of my colon, wishing I could catch it on my tongue.

      "Don't cum yet," he whispered with a strain. "Let me finish."

      He made short, slow thrusts until his balls were empty.

      "Okay, want me to go slow or fast or how?"

      "Fucking?"

      "Yes."

      "Like you were, exactly."

      "Get flat."

      I lowered my middle to the sheets. He fucked like before but with
more of a push inside at the greatest penetration, sliding my cock against
the sheets with each thrust. My eyes were closed to concentrate on what was
going on inside me. My head was light well before my prostate let go. I
reached back to pull him in deep then shook with each pulse.

      "Welcome home," he whispered.

      I was at the market at eight when they closed the door to
customers. Everyone had to do minor close up tasks. I helped Freddy put
away items left at the registers by customers who'd been short of what it
took to buy them. Mr. Wilson asked me if I wanted to work during the school
year. I said I'd think about it but knew I could make half as much easily
Saturdays on the east side without giving up weekday afternoons. Whoring
had become respectable to me.

      We took the trolley and walked the three blocks to my grandparents
where ice cream awaited us. My grandmother was out so my grandfather
cheated on his diet.

      Freddy and I examined each other's bodies for signs of growth. I
searched for but found no pubic hairs. His cock, hard as he could get it,
was a bit more than three and a half inches. Mine was almost exactly three
inches long. His balls were the size of plump grapes, mine sweat peas. I
could beat him at arm wrestling two times in a row but he won the two next
matches. Without me around to push him, his ability to do push ups and the
other exercises in my self imposed regimen had fallen off dramatically. It
was down to less than half of what I could still do which was about
twenty-five percent less than when I got back from camp. It was too late
for a run.

      He fucked me from behind twice during the course of the night and,
after a shower in the early morning, I sucked him off to see if there was
any sign of discharge. There wasn't. We wore the same clothes to Mass we'd
worn to the University Club.

      After a hearty breakfast, my grandfather sat me down in the living
room to discuss how to behave with my father. It was the same old dry don't
do anything to agitate him speech. While I was, as always, willing to do my
best in that department, I felt in a stronger position to defend myself
against my father's abuses. I could destroy him financially and could hurt
him physically.

      "Okay, I'll do what he says for chores but just a couple afternoons a
week. He can't all the sudden say I gotta do something when I've got
plans."

      "If you've got plans, just tell him calmly and respectfully and I'm
sure he'll let things go for a day. Or, you can tell him ahead of time so
he can let you know about anything that needs to be done."

      "Well, he better `cause I'm gonna be staying at other's kid's houses
a lot, including Freddy's."

      "Well, when you're going to be staying at Freddy's, say you're here
and let me know, okay?"

      "Why should I have to hide that from him?  He can't push me around
like before."

      "Malcolm, if you're saying what I think you are, you better forget
it. Don't ever try to use what's happened against him or everybody could
lose."

      "Especially him," I said testily.

      "Malcolm..."

      "Okay, but that's why I want to stay away from his house a lot. I
don't even want to talk to him. Anyway, he's got all that money now. He can
get somebody to do most of what he always wants me to do."

      "Oh brother! Malcolm, chores are part of growing up. That's one thing
your father wants that I agree with. It helps you develop a sense of
responsibility. So, just take it easy, and don't ever mention that money to
him."

      "Why not? He got it `cause of me."

      "Believe me, it's a lot more complicated than that."

      "Why, because he thinks it was all my fault?"

      "To a certain extent, yes but, well, he's a proud man who's worked
hard for what he has. Getting all that money is nice but, well..."

      "He doesn't like that he got it `cause of me, right?"

      "Something like that. But just do yourself and the rest of us a favor
and forget it."

      My grandfather reminding me that he too would be affected by my
actions took the edge off the agitation that had been building inside me. I
hugged him and promised to do my best.

      Freddy and I spent the rest of the day at the stream. We built a fire
but it was too cool to be in the open nude. We climbed into the sleeping
bag but didn't take advantage of our nudity. We just talked about plans for
my birthday, which came on a Sunday four weeks hence.

      I looked on the age of twelve as a watershed year. Going in, my body
would be as it was, coming out, I expected to be taller and with a bigger
dick and balls and maybe pubic hair. My voice might even have begun to
change. Most of my twelve year old classmates the previous year had been
going through exactly that change. At thirteen, I'd be a teenager, a major
step on the road to complete freedom from my father.

      Freddy's plans for my birthday were festive. Mine regarded what I saw
as the great transition of turning twelve. I'd already been fucked by a
man, well, men. I wanted the biggest cock ever up my ass that day, no
matter how much it hurt. Then, I wanted to have the same one inside me a
year later to compare the differences. I would make notes after each. I
wanted Freddy to watch, if he would, and also make written comments both
times. It was to be a sort of religious ceremony. I named my religion
Faggotism and couldn't wait to make Bobby the first Pope.

      All that thinking made me horny so I convinced Freddy that I should
spend the night at his house with his dick up my rear as much of the night
as possible. He molded himself in behind me, staying in for a long time but
always going limp and slipping out though he was too gone to know.

      I, on the other hand, was wide awake well into the night, trying to
come up with the words that would explain my love for Sammy without hurting
my first love, Freddy. There just didn't seem to be any way. It was a
terrible dilemma.

      We spent Columbus Day exploring the stream above Freddy's settlement
but didn't find anyplace nearly as isolated as our spot below my house. I
almost mentioned Sammy when we were sitting by our fire toward the end of
the day, my head on his shoulder.

      Lying in bed Monday night, I realized I hadn't even considered
leaving Freddy to go to Sammy's Sunday or Monday. Was I forgetting my
little lover already or was I just too wrapped up in being with Freddy
after that long absence?

      Tuesday morning rolled around. I still hadn't seen my father face to
face, which was fine by me.

      I went off early to school. Victor was the first of my classmates to
arrive. He gave me an incredibly emotional and physical welcome. He hugged
me, put his arm over my shoulder and patted my tummy. Had we been alone,
I'm sure we'd have stripped and gotten it on.

      As the others arrived, I was the center of attention, and recipient
of shoulder pokes, and a few "We really missed you's." I think Francis had
a hard on.

      I had to recount a sanitized version of my time as a runaway,
avoiding references to where I'd actually been. Much as I wanted to bring
Sammy into my life, there was the fear that all this might be a cover for
another plan.

      Our teacher, Sister Mary Thomas, hadn't known I was coming back and
had to discuss my situation with Sister Kathleen, the principal. I was
called to the office and reminded that I'd missed a month and a half of
school. They were aware of what had happened and were willing to work with
me but I had "to produce" as Sister Kathleen put it.


      "What do I get if I finish the year first in my class again?" I asked
our principal.

      "That's a bridge we'll cross if and when we get to it," she answered.

      Math was the most difficult. They had gone well beyond what I had
learned of algebra the year before. None of my friends were doing
particularly well at it and I was not about to ask Herbert Reisin. It
wasn't sure he'd help. Herbert was bright but arrogant and very competitive
regarding his academic position, which I'd usurped the year before. Sister
Mary Thomas agreed to spend some time after class with me. The Pythagorean
theorem really wasn't that difficult once she explained it. The rest of the
work was a matter of me doing a lot of reading, something I enjoyed.

      Socially, well, sexually, I was in great demand. It had been nearly
five months since any of them had tasted the pleasures my body had to
offer, nor I, theirs.

      Victor had me first in the boiler room, the key to which he had
heisted from the principal's office while she was digging into her file
cabinet. He and a few others had been jerking off in there. His cock was
growing but mostly thicker. His balls had dropped but were still relatively
small alongside their huge partner. There was no sign of pubic hair even
though he was twelve and a half.

      Poor Victor came in less than three minutes. He waited inside me and
tried again but, pump hard and fast as he could, he could only approach but
not reach fruition.

      Tommy, Pat and Martin had me in the classroom pulling the same trick
with Sister Mary Thomas as they had the year before. All three were
approaching the four inch mark. I wondered if little Dickie could handle
his brother's cock any more. All three had some pubic hair, Pat the most,
Martin the least and the strangest. His sparse growth was growing like an
Abe Lincoln beard under his cock rather than over it.

      Tommy had the biggest cock and balls. I wanted very much to suck him
to see if he had anything to savor at orgasm. While Pat fucked, I sucked
Tommy dry. Nothing came out. Pat got me all excited. He fucked like a bear,
ramming in and growling just before his near violent orgasm. It felt like
he might dislocate my shoulders he yanked so hard with each pulse. Martin
fucked me after Pat. What would have been exciting, though impossible,
would have been to fuck Martin while Pat was banging away. I kept Tommy's
delicious cock in my mouth, occasionally dropping to suck on his
wonderfully round balls.

      Francis, whose voice had changed completely and looked to be shaving
his upper lip, had wanted me the first day I'd returned.  But he'd kept
missing me until Friday recess. We went to the bushes behind the school. It
was cool but not cold. He hadn't grown much but his cock had thickened and
gotten ever hairier. His body seemed harder too, more muscular than
mine. Swimming for our class was Monday so I hadn't yet had a chance to see
him in a bathing suit.

      We pulled our pants down and shirts up. He applied his crème and lay
on me. He moved his entire body up to get inside, entering in jerks. He
felt longer than he'd appeared. Either he'd been practicing on someone else
or thinking about it a lot, but his technique was much better than the year
before. I had to raise my crotch off the newspaper we lay on to keep from
cumming ahead of him. His rate of thrusting stayed uniform beginning to
end. What he varied was his angle of entry, moving his hips side to side
and his body forward and back. The effect was a lot like what Bobby had
learned to do but even better. He seemed to hum quietly toward the end. I
could feel the expansion of his cock as he closed in on his orgasm. His
hands under my shoulders gripped tighter, then he stopped breathing and
pushed in deep. The pulsing was clear as he pumped me full of his juice.

      Freddy and I spent Wednesday afternoon with my grandmother doing
schoolwork. She helped me with my math and some geography from
September. We both spent the night there wrapped around each other. I fell
asleep again conflicted about how to deal with telling Freddy about
Sammy. For the first time, I wondered if it wouldn't be better if I tried
to forget him but knew that would be very difficult. I was already pining
to see him. I'd promised to go to Sammy's house on Saturday.

      The greatest sexual experience of the week was Thursday when I spent
the night at Martin's. First, Dickie and I went to the address Mr. Wilson
had for Butch Stevenson. He was home and happy to see me. With Dickie's
confusing help, I told him what had happened, avoiding or only hinting at
matters such as my hustling that might have been a problem with Dickie.

      Butch thought there might be boys in his school interested in my
services. With Dickie's alert little ears there, he had to use a lot of
euphemisms to explain things. Unknown to him, there had been a boy in his
class the year before who had been sharing his `waste ejector' with some of
his classmates and a few from the grade above. Somehow, the word had gotten
back to the boy's parents and they yanked him out of a day camp program
attended by many of the boys from the school.

      "One boy who's sort of a friend told me two of the others tried to do
the same thing with him in the shower even though he was one of the ones
doing it with the other kid last year and at camp, too."

      "You could probably make some money with them except I don't know
where you'd do it."

      "He could do it at my house. What's he gonna do?" asked Dickie.

      I hushed Dickie. Money probably wasn't a huge problem for me any
more. Even so I did some quick math in my head. If I could have five boys
at three dollars each twice a week, that was thirty dollars, far more than
I could earn on a Saturday on the eastside and without really big dicks up
my ass. Seventh and eighth graders wouldn't approach the man size cocks
that only earned two bucks and took a lot more time each.

      I needed to discuss this apart from Dickie. "Can you go with us to
Martin's house right now? He's a classmate."

      He went happily. Dickie held my hand tightly all the way, perhaps
figuring he was about to be dumped, as he was. He protested but I promised
to be back in an hour and spend the rest of the evening with him. That
seemed to satisfy him. I walked Butch toward Bobby's

      "Why can't we do it at your place?" I asked him.

      "What?"

      "The boys doing me."

      "Oh, I thought you meant you and me."

      "If you want."

      "Now?"

      We rushed back to his house and up to his bedroom where we
stripped. He was still hairless around his cock but it had only been two
months since I'd seen him. I wet him good and he mounted me, pushing in
easily and fucking right away. He was longer then that first time back in
June because his cock worked my prostate quite nicely. I slowed him down so
the good feeling would last.

      He slowed more and said, "You know, we could do it here. Our maid
wouldn't have any idea what we were doing up here as long as there wasn't
much noise. This feels really good, Malcolm. Thanks."

      I caressed his cheek. "How many boys do you think want to do it, kids
you trust to keep their mouths shut like Bert's kids."

      "Did you like Bert? I never did."

      "He was okay, I suppose." I couldn't mention Bert's secret since
Butch was likely to return to McFarlane the next year.

      "In my class, maybe two or three but in eighth grade, a bunch, maybe
eight or ten."

      "That's a lot. Wouldn't they go talking about it, get us both in
trouble?"

      He pushed himself higher on my back and went for more depth. "How
many each time do you want?"

      "Five? Any of them real big?"

      "Mmm, maybe Scotty. He's almost six feet tall. I saw him in the
shower last year and it was kinda big."

      "Bigger'n Bert's?"

      "About the same." He pumped harder. "Wait a minute. Ohh." He
stiffened and pressed his head over my shoulder. "Unnhh, unnhh. Oohh." He
throbbed inside me. A moment later, he said, "God, that was good."

      I kissed his cheek.

      He pushed in and settled on me. "Five each time. Some of them might
want to do it twice a week. I know Billy will, and Jason. Jason'll want to
do it every day and he's got the money. His father owns some big paint
company. I'll talk to them, not like there was anything, just like it was
an idea."

      He tried to go again but after ten minutes of frantic fucking, he
gave up. We showered and went back to Martin's

      That night was when it got exciting. Dickie fucked me in the tub.

      "You're too big back here. I don't feel nothing."

      Martin said. "Stick you hand in his again, Dickie. Bet you can get it
in right up to your shoulder."

      "I don't wanna do that. It's yucky in there."

      "C'mon, dickie. I'll let you stick yours in me."

      For a few moments, there was only the sound of the water gently
splashing about between us. "Okay, but you gotta let me do it `til I feel
good. Okay?"

      "Okay. Lemme see your fingernails."

      They were ragged from him biting them off. Martin got the fingernail
cutter and smoothed them out. Dickie giggled as Martin pushed his soaped up
fingers one at a time into my hole. I would have loved to watch but the
only mirror was on the medicine cabinet over the sink. I let my fingers
feel what was going on.

      Dickie was a skinny little thing or it never would have
worked. Martin put his body behind Dickie's shoulder and kept his arm
straight. His knuckles reached my anus.

      "Slow, wait a minute," I said. I was stretched.

      Martin maintained the pressure but waited. The discomfort diminished.

      "Go ahead, slowly."

      I felt the knuckle of his little finger push inside me, then the
next, then, with a brief sharp pain, they all popped inside. He went in
past his wrist. His fingers opened in there and gave me a thrill.

      "Man, Malcolm, you oughta see this," exclaimed Martin. "Wait, don't
move."

      He jumped out of the tub and wrapped himself in a towel. I worried
someone would see me with Dickie's hand stuffed inside my ass when he
opened the door. He listened first, then opened the door just enough to
squeeze out, returning seconds later with a large hand mirror. Martin
dropped the towel and held up the mirror for me to see. I adjusted it.

      It was like Dickie had no hand at all, just an arm stump pressed
against my hole. Or, I giggled to myself, his arm was really a cock. It
kind of looked like one, smooth and sticking in me.

      "Go in farther, Dickie, I said.

      Martin climbed back into the tub and soaped up his brother's
arm. Then, he got behind his brother's shoulder and pushed. I watched as
Dickie's arm began to disappear inside me. Martin stopped and applied more
soap to the thin forearm. Dickie wiggled his fingers around inside me.

      "What's that feel like?" he asked me.

      "Great, Dickie, keep doing it just like that."

      He poked my prostate.

      "Oh yeah, right there. Do it more there."

      He pressed his fingers down on my favorite gland. "Here?"

      "There, yeah, like that." It was marvelous. I was near orgasm.

      Martin pushed him farther in. It was still good but not nearly as
before. Dickie's arm went in to just below the elbow. I tried to imagine
where he was.'

      "Yeuch. There's poop in here," he said.

      Martin pushed. I began to feel uncomfortable. His boney elbow was at
my entry.

      "Here we go," said Martin as he grabbed my hips and pulled himself
toward me, pushing Dickie's little arm forward.

      The bone at the bottom of his elbow stretched my hole. It hurt.

      "Wait, stop," I said.

      We waited. I looked at what had to go in and worried about where his
fingers were. I could only feel some dull movement well up inside my
abdomen. I moved my hips side to side to see what feelings that might
produce. Inside, it was nice, comfortable. My hole still hurt but not as
much. I was as curious as Martin to see if this could be done. A little
pain was worth it.

      "Go ahead, but real slow."

      Martin again pulled on my hips. The pain increased. The bone
stretched my flesh. It distorted the roundness of my hole as it slowly
pressed in. There was a dull pain up in my gut scaring me that I was doing
some serious damage.

      "It's in too far, Martin, take it out some."

      Martin obeyed. The pain disappeared when his elbow came out. The six
year old was strangely quiet. I looked between my legs. His dick was hard.

      Martin asked, "What's it feel like in there, Dickie?"

      "Kinda hard, and there's poop, or something."

      "I don't think it's a good idea for his hand to be in that far. Pull
it out `til I say."

      Martin and Dickie pulled on his arm. It slid comfortably. The moment
I felt his fingers inside, I said, "Stop. Right there. Move you fingers,
Dickie. Ahh, that's good. Push down a little, yes, right, then off and back
down again. Ahh, ohh. Stop."

      I was about to cum.

      "What's he doin'?" asked Martin excitedly.

      "He's tickling me where all the good feelings come, oh, ummph." I
came.

      "Wow," said Dickie, "He's really squishing my arm."

      I reached back and grabbed his arm so he wouldn't try to pull it
out. That would really have hurt at that point. The feeling coursed through
my body for a few moments, leaving me a bit dizzy. It was as good an orgasm
as I'd ever had.

      Withdrawal hurt less than entry. Even Martin knew that fucking me at
that time would have been a waist of time for us both. We washed and went
to bed.

      Martin had to comply with his promise. I got into a sixty-nine
position with Martin to suck him while Dickie pumped into his brother's
behind. Martin pulled the cover over us and took me into his mouth. I
followed Dickie's humping rear end with my hand. It wasn't big but had a
nice curve to it. Dickie kept coming out of his brother's hole. I put my
hand there to keep him lined up. Martin sucked me slowly, mostly using his
tongue while he moved his head around. I had to work slowly because
Dickie's cock was having an effect. Martin bloated quickly and ready to
fire.

      I felt Dickie's ass muscles harden. He rammed in hard a few more
times then slowed dramatically. I stuck a finger against his perineum and
felt the throbs. Everybody was very comfortable. We could have gone to
sleep like that but someone had to get up and turn off the light. It was
easiest for me so I did it.

      When I got back in bed, Dickie was pumping again. Martin said
nothing, just latched back onto me when I lay in front of him. He came
before Dickie's second orgasm but was good about letting his little bother
get off a few minutes later. I don't remember if I came at all. We slept in
those positions. Dickie, naturally, came out but managed to stay tight
against his big brother until morning when the alarm snapped us all awake.

      Since Freddy had gone there after work to spend the night, I went to
my grandparents' too Friday evening for dinner. I worked out, ran, then
read until Freddy arrived at a quarter to nine. The Sammy situation had to
be dealt with.

      We bathed then crawled into bed. Although we were naked, he didn't
seem especially horny and I definitely was not.

      He lay on his back. I lay half across him, my right thigh and knee
across his crotch, my head on his chest. I hugged him, kissed his nipple
then put my head up on my hand.

      "You know the boy who let me stay at his house all those nights,
Sammy?"

      "Umm hmm."

      "I'm going to see him tomorrow. I kinda want him to be able to come
and be with us some, a lot."

      He was silent.

      "I really like him. You will too."

      After a pause, Freddy asked, "You two do a lot of stuff together?"

      "Mmm Hmm."

      "Is he like you?"

      "Mmm hmm.

      More silence. "So?"

      "I like him a whole lot." I couldn't say the word love.

      Freddy sighed. "So now they's two a us."

      "It's different with him, Freddy. You're my brother, my very best
friend. I love you more than a brother." I put my head back on his chest
and hugged him. "Please don't be angry."

      "Shit, I ain't angry. I remember Philip and Louis and Georgie. Just
sounds like you love this Sammy too. Do you?"

      "Yes."

      "So?"

      "It's just that I never felt like this about a boy before, except you
but it's different with you." I put my head back up on my hand. "One day,
you're gonna have a girl friend and wanna do it more with her than
me. You're normal. We'll still be very best friends and love each other but
we won't be lying around like this any more, well, not as much. Sammy's
never going to want to have a girl friend or get married."

      "'Cept to you?" he giggled.

      I slapped his chest gently. "I don't know. I just want you and me to
be like we are forever. I love it when you fuck me and I know you do too
but what happens when you only want to do it with a girl?"

      "Who says I'm only gonna wanna do it with a girl. I love your pretty
ass, Malcolm Lloyd. I'll fuck you when we're forty."

      I hugged him again. "You're not gonna be mad about Sammy?"

      He paused again but caressed my hair. "I don't think so. He gonna
sleep with us too?"

      "Sometimes, maybe, no, maybe not. I don't know. Not if you don't want
him to."

      "He act like a girl too?"

      "Not too much.

      "If my mama sees him, she's gonna know so he can't stay at my house
with us."

      "I love you Freddy, so much."

      He fucked me; probably to remind me how good he was at it. After he
came, I said, "You and I are so perfect together. I wish I never met
Sammy."

      "But you did, din't you."

      Saturday morning, Freddy and I left the house together and took
trolley's going in opposite directions.

      I was at Sammy's forty minutes later, my stomach and chest tingling
in anticipation. I knocked on his door. His aunt answered. Sammy was on an
errand and would be back shortly. I waited anxiously on the step. By the
time he arrived, I was pacing. Without a word, we embraced right there on
the sidewalk. There are no words to describe the joyous feeling that
coursed through my entire being. He pulled me inside. Put down his bag of
whatever and kissed me full on the lips.

      "I've been thinking about you all day everyday since you left. Is
everything okay?"

      "I think so. I started school and I can go out when I want. I love
you." I held him to me tight as I could.

      "I love you too. Oh God, I love you!"

      We let go of each other but held each others' hands. "Can you go out
today?" I asked.

      "Until about five. Can you sleep here tonight?"

      "Of course. Tell your aunt and let's go."

      "All I gotta do is leave her these tacks and stuff. Just a minute."

      We headed to my house talking all the way in as hushed tones as
possible on busses and a clanky streetcar. I told him about my religion for
queers and budding birthday plans. He seemed confused by it all.

       My father was taking down screens and putting up storm windows on
the side of the front porch. It was the first time we'd seen each other
since our fight on Labor Day.

      "I hope your friend likes to work `cause you've got a lot to do. Go
bring out all the storm windows from under the porch and in the
barn. Here's the key."

      Several remarks about "nice to see you too" floated in my mind but I
just took the key.

      On the way to the barn, Sammy asked, "Is he always like that?"

      "No, he's usually worse."

      We got all the storm windows out and put them near the windows to
which they were to be installed. As the screens came down, we put them
under the porch. When he finished on the porch, I swept up the debris he'd
left, then got rags, newspaper and a bucket out of the pantry and wiped
down the windows we could get to on the porch, the porch roof and a few
others we could reach off the step ladder. My father left at ten thirty
without saying a word. We finished at one. Mother fixed us lunch and
chatted with Sammy, asking the same tired old questions about his family,
where he lived and what school he attended. She seemed a bit distressed by
his answers but made no comments.

      After eating, we went up to bathe. We took a shower, holding one
another under the warm stream, caressing, kissing. As I washed him he
turned and pressed his buns into my crotch.

      "Let's do it on the bed," I said.

      We hurried.

      I wished the door was still up to shield our nudity when we left the
bathroom.

      On top of the bed, he lay on top of me and kissed my lips, eyes,
cheeks and shoulders. "Do me now," he whispered and rolled off onto his
stomach.

      I turned him back over and pushed his legs up. I used my own saliva
to lubricate and pushed inside him. His beautiful blue eyes closed briefly
then opened as I lay forward to kiss him. He embraced me and pulled his
legs higher.

      I braced my toes on the backboard at the foot of the bed and began
slow gentle thrusts into him. He put one hand on my ass and pushed down. I
fucked harder. He pressed harder. I lifted up on my arms and pulled out as
far as I could without coming loose and rammed back inside him. His eyes
closed. I kept it up as long as I could. I think he was squeezing his
sphincter. I came much sooner than I'd hoped and collapsed on top of him.

      He whispered in my ear, "Can you do it again?"

      "In a minute."

      "Let me turn over this time. We can kiss from there too."

      I pulled out and leaned back on my heels. He rolled over. He was so
slim and fragile looking. I leaned over and kissed his back in several
places. He pushed his little ass up at me. I re-inserted and thrust hard
but spaced. I wasn't really ready to go again but wanted to please him. I
lay on his sweet smooth back. He turned his head and sought my lips. My
cock lost it's hyper-sensitivity. We sucked tongues. He fingered my ear and
raised his behind. I pushed my hands under him and cupped his face in one
and caressed his hair with the other.

      "Harder," he said, "Go in more."

      I wished I had six inches to give him, to push up into his middle and
feel myself inside him through his belly. I thrust hard as I could, pushing
us higher on the bed with each.

      "Like that, good, oh Malcolm."

      I felt him tense. I wanted to go on. I was close too. He pulled my
face tight to his and came. His anus gripped my penis. I worked harder and
faster, going for orgasm. I felt the warming inside my pelvis and went
faster still. He squeezed my face and sucked my tongue. I stopped breathing
to put all my energy and concentration in my speeding cock. Climax made me
gasp and shudder. He kissed my cheek and nose. I collapsed, exhausted. His
sphincter relaxed. I pressed into him to keep us together as long as
possible.

      A few moments later, he said, "You were right, it's better in bed."

      We were gone before my father came home. We went to a movie,
something Freddy and I had never been able to do, and held hands
throughout. That night, we sneaked up to his bedroom.

      "You fuck me this time," I said.

      "But I'm so little."

      "We're almost the same. I'll get on my knees. It's easier that way."

      Squeeze hard as I could, he couldn't get off in me. I washed him off
and we sucked each other, falling asleep with penises in mouths, arms about
each other.

      Again, I worried how my feelings for Sammy would play with Freddy. I
wanted the two of them to meet and see if they could be friends in spite of
competing loves. I wondered if Freddy might want to fuck Sammy. His ass was
so much tighter than mine. Sammy would enjoy the larger, longer
penis. Freddy had fucked Georgie the year before so it wasn't as though he
didn't enjoy sex generally. And he was going to fuck girls. But maybe
suggesting something like that, at least when they first met, might make
Sammy feel like I was using him as a plaything for my friends. And, Freddy
might think all kinds of things I didn't mean. What was I going to do if
they didn't like each other?

      Sunday morning, we woke up after his aunt. Fortunately, she didn't
come into Sammy's room and see us. She went off somewhere. We went to the
diner I'd frequented while living in the area and had a greasy
breakfast. Waiting for the bus later, one of my customers drove by and
wanted to know if we'd like to go for a `quickee'. It was ten o'clock. We
had three hours before Freddy got back from church.

      Sammy and I looked at each other and seemed to concur. "Three
bucks. One of us blows you."

      He waved us in. We went to his apartment west of the area. We blew
him together, switching top to sides of his big cock, then running up and
down across from each other, lips touching. He came while we were off his
head, squiring cum over our faces. We laughed and licked it off each other,
certainly not because it tasted good because it didn't. It was something
we'd never done before. He sucked us off while we kissed. We convinced him
to take us to the streetcar turnaround, claiming we were late for a date
due to dallying with him.

      While we waited under a tree near Freddy's house, I got back to my
queer religion.

      "Faggotism will be ours. Heterosexuals can't join. And we won't have
Jesus and Mary and the Holy Ghost, just a big cock to worship. Maybe some
big muscular man with a cock that hangs down to his knees and goes as high
as his chin when it gets hard. And none of that bullshit about hell. No
decent God is going to make people go through all that for anything, well,
maybe except murder. Even my father, who's a real son-of-a-bitch, should
just have to suffer for a while then he can go to heaven if he promises not
to bother little kids. Those stupid nuns say if we get killed after jerking
off without making a confession, we go to hell and burn forever. That's
just stupid.'

      I went on about saints and candles at services and Holy Communion
with wine and sperm and voluntary nudity at services. Sammy didn't say a
word. Finally, I asked him what he thought.

      "Nobody's gonna join."

      "Why not?"

      "'Cause nobody's gonna wanna admit they're queer, except a few maybe,
but not enough to make any money so you can have a church."

      I hadn't thought about that. "It can be a secret church. Only homos
will even know about it."

      "So how are you going to know who to say anything to?"

      "I'll find a way. I always do."

      Freddy, Aunt Martha and the rest paraded in, dressed in their best
Sunday go to meeting clothes, except for Freddy who had far better attire
at my grandparent's house. Everyone looked Sammy over but the expressions
seemed more curious than anything else, except for Freddy who gave him a
more thorough visual inspection. Aunt Martha got between us and, with an
arm over our shoulders, guided us into the house.

      Beverly, Freddy's youngest sister asked me, "Who's dat?"

      Looking at Freddy, I answered, "That's Sammy, a friend of
mine. Sammy, this is my little sister, Beverley."

      She giggled and put her arms around my waist, hiding from Sammy.

      "Well, Sammy, I hope you're hungry," said Aunt Martha, "'cause that's
what we do Sunday aftah church. You like chicken?"

      "Yes, ma'am."

      The girls went to their bed and changed out of their dresses into
play clothes. Sammy noticed their lack of concern that we were in the room.

      "Don't stare," I said.

      We joined Freddy at his bed as he changed. He hadn't said a word to
either of us. I sat beside him as he took off his shoes and put an arm over
his shoulder. He sat up with a smile and said, "Don't worry. I ain't gonna
hit him or nothin'."

      I poked him in the side and kissed him on the side of his head. "At
least say hi."

      He looked up and said, "Hi, Sammy."

      Sammy held out his hand. Freddy took it and gave him a solid shake.

      I relaxed a little.

      Freddy put on the sneakers grandmother had bought him and got
up. "Let's go see what mama got fo' dinner."

      We followed him to the wood stove. A fat chicken sat dripping the
sauce it had been cooked in. Aunt Martha was boiling greens.

      "You boys go play fo' ten minutes an' let me finish up heah."

      We went out and sat on the front step, Freddy and Sammy squeezed on
either side of me, both with their knees up, arms folded across the top,
chins resting on their crossed forearms.

      "Wanna go to the stream after we eat?" I asked.

      "If you want," answered Freddy.

      "What stream?" asked Sammy.

      I waited a second to see if Freddy would answer. He didn't. "Listen,
hear the water?"

      He listened. "Unh huh."

      "There's a stream over behind the trees. We have a place about five
minutes up that path." I pointed out in front of us at the opening in the
woods.

      Freddy asked, "He know how to play marbles?" Marbles was how we'd
gotten rid of Philip and Louis long enough to have some private sex. I
elbowed him. He was smiling. "Douglas can teach `im."

      "Cut it out, Freddy."

      Freddy put his arm around my neck and squeezed hard. I put a finger
in his arm pit and wiggled it. He laughed and snapped his arm down. I put
my arm around his shoulder and squeezed gently. He still stuck his finger
in my arm pit. I dug mine in just below his ribs. He fell off the step
laughing. I jumped on him and continued my attack. He tickled back, more
effectively than me. I retreated to the step.

      "You can't beat me at nothin', Maacum," he said with a grin.

      "Oh yes I can."

      "Well, maybe at one thing but that's all." He whispered in my ear,
"Who's better at that, you o' him?"

      I pushed him off the step.

      "Jus' askin'," he laughed.

      We were called in to wash up for dinner.

      Freddy and I observed local table manners and ate with our fingers,
making a mess. Sammy tried to be proper and use a knife and fork. Beverley
asked me, "Why he eatin' like that?"

      Sammy looked at me across from him then around the table. He put down
his fork and picked up the chicken. Everybody smiled.

      We walked to our place on the stream in silence. I was hoping one of
my two lovers would speak, but in vain. I had an idea.

      "You guys wait here, I'm going to Benson's and buy us some dessert."

      Sammy grimaced uncomfortably but I insisted it would just take a few
minutes and Freddy could show him around. That made Freddy uncomfortable.

      I hurried, bought Tastycake chocolate cupcakes and sodas, and rushed
back, hoping I hadn't made a mistake. The two of them were sitting on rocks
by the stream, six feet apart.

      There was no lack of decorum or cordiality that afternoon but I'd
never felt more uncomfortable around Freddy. Sammy tried to strike up a
conversation about the animals to be found thereabouts but Freddy just
suggested he look under some rocks. I led Sammy about but we found
nothing. It was probably too cold.

      I almost suggested the sleeping bag in a wild hope of getting Freddy
sexually excited but knew it would only have made for an even more
difficult situation.

      At four, I had to take Sammy home. Freddy let me hug him and even
returned it.

      "I'll see you at gramma's tomorrow," I told him.

      As we waited for the streetcar, Sammy said, "I don't think Freddy
likes me very much," and apologized for causing a lousy afternoon.

      I took hold of his hand and whispered, "Don't worry. He'll learn to
like you and I'll always love you."

      We discussed possible ways of getting together during the week. We
both had to be at school by eight in the morning making overnight stays
nearly impossible except on weekends and holidays. I broached the idea of
his changing schools and coming to live with me. It was a truly impossible
idea as I knew my father would never permit it. But I was desperate to be
with him. I promised to see him Tuesday afternoon.

      My father cancelled my trip to my grandparent's house by telling me
through my mother Monday morning to clean out the first floor of the
barn. I called Freddy at my grandparents and told him what happened.

      "Are you mad at me for bringing Sammy yesterday?"

      "You can have all the friends you want, Malcolm. Why'm I supposed to
be mad?"

      "Then why'd you treat Sammy so bad yesterday."

      There was a brief silence. "I don't know. Aunt Claire's waiting for
me. I gotta study."

      I did my work increasingly concerned that I'd done something terrible
to my relationship with Freddy. There was also an irrational anger in me
against my father for picking this afternoon to order the cleaning of the
barn, something I'd never been asked to do before. Indeed, it was the first
time I'd been allowed to be in there alone for more than a few minutes. Of
course, there had been many other times when Freddy and I sneaked in.

      Worse, it was impossible to finish the job that day. I had to get
everything off the floor in order to clean it with a heavy broom, soap and
water then wash it down and put everything in order. I barely completed the
broad side floor by dark. It would take more than another afternoon to get
it all done, forcing me to break my promise to visit Sammy the next
afternoon.

      After dinner, I sneaked out and ran down to Freddy's. Neither he nor
his sister were there, presumably spending the night at my grandparent's,
something they did at least once a week.

      The next day in school I was in a sour mood. Francis, then Victor
wanted sex. I claimed a headache. I rushed home and completed the broad
side and the floor of the right side. Determined to see Freddy at my
grandparent's the next afternoon rather than a few minutes at his house
right then, I returned to the barn after dinner and finished the job,
missing my exercise for the second day in a row in order to do my homework
in the short time left before going to bed.

      At recess the next day, Martin asked me what was wrong.

      "My stupid father is all."

      "You're not going to run away again, are you?"

      I shook my head. After making sure no one was watching, he took my
hand and squeezed it.

      I put my arm over his shoulder and hugged him in an acceptable
way. "Don't worry. I'm okay."

      My big decision for the afternoon was where to go: to see Freddy or
Sammy. It wasn't possible to do both. I had to be home by six at the latest
and the trip to Sammy's took most of three hours depending on streetcar and
bus connections. I cursed myself for not bringing some of the money hidden
in my room so I could take a taxi and see them both.

      In the end, seeing Freddy seemed the more important. Sammy would
understand when I saw him the next day.

      At my grandparent's house, Freddy appeared happy to see me but
wouldn't leave the kitchen table where he and his sister were doing their
schoolwork with my grandmother. I helped Missy with diagramming sentences,
something my grandmother taught her even though it hadn't come up at her
school yet.

      When Freddy finished and was putting on his jacket, I insisted he
come upstairs with me.

      "Maacum, you're making a fuss over nothing. I'm not mad at you. I
just don't wanna be friends with Sammy is all. He's a nice kid but, well,
he just sits around and don' wanna do nothin'." He'd slipped back into his
pre-gramma way of speaking, something he no longer was doing at her
house. I was sure my relationship with Sammy was bothering him.

      "Do you want me to stop seeing Sammy?" It made me almost cry just
asking such a painful question.

      "You can see anybody you want. I..."

      I could feel the tears forming. "Freddy, I love you more than anybody
else in the world. Please..."

      "Shit, Maacum. I know you do. It's just that you git all these
friends an' wanna bring `em ta the stream and that's supposed ta be jus'
fer us."

      I hugged him, tears dripping. "I'll never take him there again. I
promise."

      It took a moment but he finally hugged me too. I kissed his cheek. He
must have felt the wetness on my face because he reached up and touched me
under the eye.

      "Damn, Maacum, you're cryin'. You don't gotta be cryin'."

      I squeezed him and breathed heavily in an attempt to stop the tears.

      Victor had his way with me before school then Martin, Pat and Tommy
at lunchtime. Francis wanted to come to my house after classes but I told
him I had to go somewhere. I took the streetcar downtown then a taxi to
Sammy's.

      He complained in an oblique way about Freddy taking all my time. I
don't think he believed cleaning the barn took two days. But, he did neck
for a while just inside the door and gave me a nice hug and smile when I
left.

      That evening, Butch called me at home. He and some of his friends
wanted to see me at his house the following afternoon. I got permission
from my mother to spend Friday night at Martin's.

      I went to Butch's house with a load from Francis inside me and a
small jar of Vaseline in my bookbag. Butch's five friends eyed me greedily
when I walked into his walnut panelled living room. They were seated erect
but at ease about the plush furniture. All five wore tweed jackets or dark
plaid wool vest sweaters. It looked like a frathouse photograph on the wall
of my grandfather's studio. Only the pipes were missing.

      We went straight to Butch's bedroom where I dictated the order of
insertion from the smallest to the largest. Three of them were undressing
as I made my selection. There were smirks but no one disputed their place
in line.

      There wasn't an attractive boy in the group. The largest was as close
to ugly as I'd had up my butt. He was one of the two who didn't undress.

      The smallest, Bradley, like my classmate, was anything but small
between his legs. I should have asked their names before as his changing
voice would have made it obvious that his cherubic face was the youngest
looking part of him. His body was tight and hairy. The dark pubic bush
around his hard four and a half inches covered his balls. I had to dig out
the Vaseline that I'd left in my book bag. Saliva wouldn't have been
sufficient. He politely but firmly suggested that we do it with me on my
hands and knees. It quickly became obvious he was no novice. He inserted
slowly but completely and got right into action. His angle was not one to
pleasure me, going up rather than down toward my prostate. He put his hands
on my shoulders and tugged with each thrust. After a few minutes, he
stopped. I could feel him pumping out the juice his young looking face made
me believe he didn't yet have.

      The next two were about Tommy Atkins size, approaching four inches
but not quite there. The second of the pair started out stonefaced became
almost frantic when he approached orgasm and came out three times before
grunting and throbbing.

      My fourth customer was as big as the first but had no pubic hair at
all. He too was experienced and lay behind me with the two of us on our
sides. Insertion seemed almost ritualistic. He took more time lining
himself up than screwing. His three dollar thrill was gone in a little over
a minute.

      It was during that quickie that I noticed Butch seated on a wood
chair not far from the bed. He was watching the action closely. It seemed
certain he'd want his commission right after this gang left.

      The biggest boy, Scotty, was not nearly six feet tall as Butch had
thought but was only a few inches from it. His cock, though, was that of a
boy a foot shorter, barely four inches long but with a pubic bush of dark
blond hair and a big pair of balls that must have hung well below the head
of his cock when it was soft. When he came after at least five minutes of
hard but silent thrusting, it seemed to take as long to finish unloading,
so long I thought he might have been preparing to go for seconds.

      I'd made my fifteen dollars in less than forty minutes with almost no
chit chat. The five left after saying they'd make appointments with Butch
for the following week. Butch took them to the door while I waited upstairs
in the bedroom for him to come collect his commission.

      We did it with me on my back, butt at the side of the bed, him on his
knees with a stack of books underneath, my legs up over his shoulders. My
hole was well lubricated in and out so he just pushed in.

      "Are they the best looking kids in your school?" I asked with a grin
as he plugged away at my rear.

      "Of course not. The good looking ones get girls."

      Martin and I convinced Freddy to spend the night with us. After
letting Dickie fuck me for the longest time without getting off, I asked
Martin if he'd let me screw him while Freddy did me. It was really just a
thought as I didn't expect he'd agree. When he smiled and said okay, I
immediately suspected Freddy had done more than eat meals
there. Nonetheless, I certainly enjoyed the experience. I let Freddy do all
the work then came ahead of him. When I sucked Martin afterwards, he gave
me a surprise squirt of sweetness when he came.

      We then re-inserted, including Martin in Dickie, and tried to sleep
like that. Dicks came out but we did manage to get through the night with
our arms wrapped tightly enough around each other so no one fell off the
bed. I was dying to ask Freddy about him and Martin. The opportunity didn't
come until we were walking to Edward's after breakfast.

      "So," he answered with a grin, "you been havin' sex wi' half the boys
in the city."

      That was an intriguing thought. Tossing that delightful fantasy, I
asked, "How many times?"

      "Jus' a couple, fo'."

      At least that should have made it more difficult to criticize me.

      After dropping Freddy off at work, I went and brought Sammy back to
my house where we swept the driveway and walks then retired to my bedroom
for some tender love making.

      I felt great. In a matter of hours, I'd made love with the two most
important people in my life without any concerns about losing either.

      With hopes of a free lunch from Aunt Martha, I took Sammy with me to
Bobby's where I also planned to discuss plans for my birthday ceremony.

      We did get fed but Bobby was busy until two fifteen. Aunt Martha and
Bobby's mother had gone home leaving just us boys, including Martin and
Steven.

      Looking around, I whispered to Bobby, "Steven's the only straight
person in the room."

      "And the smallest."

      Steven noticed us looking at him. "What's wrong?"

      Bobby said, "You're outnumbered."

      He looked around. "Huh?"

      I swore him to silence then, "I'm going to be twelve in a couple of
weeks and I want it to be a real special celebration. Before I'm thirteen,
my body's going to change and I'm going to get bigger. It's a very special
birthday.'

      "This needs to be discussed naked," said Bobby as he kicked off his
shoes. "Somebody lock the door. Customers shouldn't see this."

      Sammy was the most reticent but acquiesced when it became clear he'd
be the only clothed person in the room. Steven had the only hard on.

      Bobby settled back on the sofa, pulled Steven onto his lap and played
with his cock. "I'll buy a lot of candles and make a very big cake," he
said. "What else?"

      I had far more elaborate plans with specific needs. "First, you need
to be finished work so there won't be any interruptions. I need someone
with a big cock, the biggest I've ever had in me. But he's gotta cooperate
`cause it's gonna take time to do what I want."

      "I know plenty of them,' said Bobby. `What else?"

      "Candles, a lot of them, and wine."

      We settled on Kenny whose cock, according to Bobby, was bigger than
the ones on the men I'd told him about. "It'll go right up to your
stomach. I hope you can handle it."

      The invitation list included Freddy, Sammy, Martin, Steven, Butch,
Spike, Robert, Simon and, if I could find them, Philip and Louis. I even
planned to try to have Georgie there but he'd have to miss a day of
school. Martin thought I should invite Tommy and Pat too but I wasn't sure
they'd understand what I had planned.

      Bobby, who had forgotten Sammy's name, asked, "What's your friend
like to do?"

      I took his hand and said, "Sammy's not my friend, he's my lover."

      Everyone looked at Sammy. I hugged him. Bobby said, `Does that mean
you ain't gonna share him? Oh, he does have beautiful eyes.'

      I held him tighter, unsure how to answer the question. Bobby smiled
and asked Sammy, "So, you gonna share Malcolm? I haven't had a decent fuck
in a week. Anyhow, he's the only one I get."

      Sammy whispered in my ear, "He mean it?"

      We went into the bedroom and had an orgy. I fucked Sammy while Bobby
fucked me while Steven fucked Martin. Then I sucked Sammy while Bobby
sucked Martin while Steven fucked Bobby then me, not getting off with
either. Steven washed off, came back and insisted someone suck him. Martin
took care of it.

      I took Sammy home in a cab then returned by bus and streetcar to meet
Freddy and go to my grandparents' for the night.

      Over the next two weeks, birthday celebration arrangements were made,
Butch's friends paid me sixty-three dollars for use of my backside, my
friends at school had it for free, I caught up in all my studies except
some history, I found Louis by walking around the area where I thought he
lived and asking for a kid with his name and description, I saw my father a
total of three times, Georgie agreed to come, and Dwight David Eisenhower
was elected President of the United States.



      Two days before my birthday, my father came home in a brand new black
Chrysler. My mother had a new Ford station wagon the next day. The Washburn
check had come. I hoped that would keep things calm for a while but wasn't
sure anything could. I'd seen the tightness in my father's jaw when I spoke
at the dinner table and seen his dark glances my way.

      When Georgie arrived at the house with me Friday night and saw the
new cars in the driveway, he said, "I think our parents got a couple
hundred thousand dollars each from Washburn. Mother told this girl friend
of hers that she and my father would only get about a hundred thousand if
they paid taxes on it `cause Delaware and Washington would take about
half. She was saying she'd spend her part little by little, maybe save
half. I don't think she was gonna pay any taxes and I'll bet you father
didn't either. They could all go to jail if the government finds out."

      That set my mind spinning. It was something I could use if he tried
any shit with me. I didn't really care if he lost all that money. It didn't
figure any of it was coming my way.

      I turned twelve on Sunday, November ninth. The official party was
held at Freddy's house. My mother attended along with my grandparents. I
didn't tell Sammy about it. Martin, Dickie and Georgie were the only other
whites there, probably more than had ever been at any one time in the
hundred year history of the settlement. Bobby gave Spike a long day's work
in order for Martin and Aunt Martha to have the day off. He also
contributed half the food and the cake that my mother picked up and brought
to the party. We ate and played and ate for three hours. Dickie and Martin
didn't like collard greens.

      Freddy and I sneaked off with a ruler to measure each other's
dicks. I noted lengths, which hadn't changed since the last measurement a
few weeks earlier, in the notebook I was to use for Freddy's and my
thoughts later on that day.

      Sammy was at Bobby's when we arrived. One of Sammy's customers had
dropped him nearby after a stop at the man's apartment. All of us,
including Sammy after I begged his aunt for permission, were to spend the
night there. Freddy, the one person I was worried might think it all very
silly, was quite amused but interested too when I explained what was to
happen.

      "Anyways, somebody's got to be there with the sense to git you to a
hospital when that boy breaks yo' butt open."

      I was hopeful that wouldn't happen.

      The ceremony began at dark. Curtains were over all the
windows. Bobby's mattress, with a clean, ironed sheet, was in the middle of
the cleared living room. Candles were placed in a circle around the
mattress, each pressed into one of twenty five soda bottles we owed
deposits on. I was in the bedroom rehearsing my speeches and prayers that
Georgie and I had gone over repeatedly the night before. Everyone stripped
and sat on the floor just outside the candles. Present were Spike, Robert,
Simon, Steven, Martin, Sammy, Louis, Butch, Georgie, Freddy, Fish, Kenny
and Bobby.  Only Steven had an erection. I'm not sure anyone had ever seen
him without one.

      Wearing a T shirt I'd stolen from my father to cover my nudity, I
walked into the room and stood behind the rest.

      "This is the first day of my year of passage from boyhood into
adolescence and manhood," I said as solemnly as Father Simons saying the
words of the Eucharist at a High Mass. "Will you welcome me to my future?"

      I walked from boy to boy kissing each lightly on the lips, Sammy a
little more deeply than the rest, then returned, with a hard on, to where
I'd first spoken.

      "I am a homosexual and thank the Great Spirit of Homosexuals for
making me in his likeness. I now ask our priest Bobby to prepare the one
who will provide the great penis of my initiation into manhood." Georgie
thought the Great Spirit was more likely to be tolerant of homosexuals than
the God of St. Paul.

      Bobby took Kenny by the hand and led him to the mattress where he lay
on his back and massaged his great dong. It had indeed grown since I'd last
seen it over a year earlier. For the first time since the inception of my
planning for this day, I worried I might not be able to get it inside me.

      "`May I now have the love lubricant given by my friends for this
special time?"

      Bobby brought me a mason jar filled with sperm of varying potential
which had been supplied earlier in the day by him, Robert, Simon, Kenny,
Fish, and a few drops from Louis and Martin. I held it over my head, kissed
the bottom of the jar and walked to the side of the mattress. After putting
the jar beside Kenny, I slowly took off the T shirt and knelt down. As I
opened the jar, I said, `This is the love of my friends which I will
treasure for the rest of my life. Step-brother Steven will now apply it."
His was the only hand small enough to fit into the jar to get the sperm
out.

      Steven reached inside and scooped up what he could and dripped it on
Kenny's dong. Two more times, he went in getting out all he could and
wiping it all over what looked to be easily seven inches of hard cock. I
turned so he could put the last remains between my cheeks. Then I picked up
my father's T shirt, spit on it and handed it to Steven to wipe his hands.

      I straddled Kenny. Facing his feet and said, "Now is my time. Please,
the wine."

      Bobby handed me a wine glass full of red wine that I drank down. We
both hoped it would help me take the pain that was sure to come.

      "Will everyone come and take my hands and give me the strength of
your love so I can do this task."

      All twelve came, shuttling side to side until there were six on each
hand. Spike and Simon looked magnificent in candle light. Freddy and Sammy
managed to be on opposite sides.

      I lowered myself onto the top of Kenny's cock and said, "Oh Great
Spirit of Homosexuals, please help me do this act so I may be worthy to be
one of yours."

      I closed my eyes and put more of my weight on Kenny's penis. The wine
was making my head swim a little. The sperm was very slippery. I started
too fast. It hurt immediately. I stopped, wishing I had a mirror to watch.

      Steven bent down to look.

      The pain dissipated, I let myself go a tiny bit more until the pain
built. There was only the ever so soft sound of fourteen boys breathing. I
looked at Spike who was standing over one of Kenny's legs and concentrated
on his magnificent pectorals as I lowered myself more. A glance at his face
showed an empathetic grimace. Simon beside him was biting his lower
lip. Someone caressed my palm with his finger. I was sure it was Sammy. The
wine further blurred my mind and senses.

      I kept up the downward pressure. My sphincter continued to spread,
stretching and loosening ever so slowly. My confidence built, perhaps aided
by the unaccustomed alcohol in my blood. Sperm, as I'd suspected it would
be, was the perfect lubricant. Pain built again. I waited. The stinging
didn't abate this time.

      I had no idea how much more my anus would have to dilate to take in
the head of Kenny's cock. I turned my attention back to Spike's pectorals
and pressed down. The wine no longer helped. It felt like I was about to be
torn apart but I had to do it. Tears formed in my eyes. I kept them on
Spike's chest. I felt myself drop perhaps an inch before I could stop. The
head was in. The pain was still there but it wouldn't get any worse, at
least not at my anus. Something well up inside me had hurt when Dickie's
hand was there.

      I couple of voices went "Ohh" and "Ahh". I squeezed the hands holding
mine and began to move down Kenny's shaft. The pain lost its edge. Kenny's
cock head passed my prostate. It seemed like another body was moving up
inside me. I felt very full.

      Down I went. His cock seemed to hit something inside me. I rolled my
hips side to side. It slipped past whatever barrier had been in the way and
continued up inside of me. I yearned to feel Kenny's pubic hairs on my ass.

      Steven said, "Almost."

      Bobby shushed him.

      I felt a dull discomfort deep inside my abdomen. Kenny was moving up
my colon. I hoped there wouldn't be any damage. It would be hard to explain
to a doctor.

      I felt the first tickle of pubic hair but I knew he had a lot. There
was at least an inch to go. My anus hurt but not nearly as much as during
the entry. I took a deep breath, held it and sat down on Kenny's crotch. He
was in. Seven inches of teen cock was up inside my now twelve year old
body.

      "Thank you my loves. You may now release my hands." The words were
strained but I kept my eyes down in hopes no one would see through the
façade of bravado.

      The most arduous part of the ceremony was now to begin.  Steven, as
the smallest was first. It took forty-five minutes approximately to suck
twelve boys to orgasm. After Steven came Sammy, then Georgie, Louis,
Freddy, Martin, Butch, Robert, Spike, Simon, Fish and finally, Bobby. I
kissed each on the face after they came. Martin and Butch gave me a few
delicious drops. Robert's, which I had never tasted before, had a strange
flavor like nutty mayonnaise. Spike's was as delectable as his
body. Simon's wasn't so great. Fish's was terrible. Bobby's was wonderful.

      Kenny's cock deflated gradually as I serviced my friends but I was
planted flat on his crotch so it couldn't slip out. Every once in a while,
particularly as I switched clients, Kenny moved around enough to pump blood
back in and push back up inside. It seemed certain he wanted to get on with
his part.

      Finally, it was time for the final scene of the ceremony, getting
Kenny off inside me.

      "My stomach is now filled with the love of my friends. It is time to
put the seed of man into my bowels." That was Georgie's inspired
line. "Please oh great Great Spirit of Homosexuals," I said prayerfully,
"let Kenny now fill me with his manly sperm. My friends, please take my
hands again that I may draw from your love and Kenny's well of manhood."

      The moment I began to speak, Kenny started moving around, making sure
he'd be able to perform.

	Twelve hands took my two. Using them and my legs, I began to raise
and lower myself, very slowly at first. Kenny's cock wasn't at full size
when I started but grew quickly. Feeling something hurting well up in my
gut on the third lift, I didn't go all the way down, hoping it still would
be sufficient to get Kenny to climax. A couple of minutes after starting, I
felt Kenny thrusting gently upward and decided to let him do what felt
best.

	While Kenny fucked, Sammy stepped in front of me and kissed me with
lips and tongue then knelt down and took my penis into his mouth, letting
the motion created by Kenny provide the movement. I worried I'd get off
before Kenny until a sharp pain told me he was growing inside me in
preparation for orgasm. It hurt as much as entry. Sammy wrapped his arms
around me, perhaps sensing my pain. The first throb was like a knife
cutting my sphincter. I closed my eyes and grunted with each pulse as Kenny
pumped wave after wave of potent sperm into my colon. The hands holding
mine squeezed, a few taking my arms as I slipped down the weakening
shaft. Sammy went down with me, embracing me as tightly as his skinny arms
could.

	I looked for Freddy. He was smiling and shaking his head. I pursed
my lips. He leaned in and kissed them.

	My ass hurt terribly but I was determined not to show it.

	I waited for Kenny's cock to fully deflate before getting off
him. Sammy tried to suck me off but I hurt too much for that. Bobby hugged
me and whispered. "You're the champ now."

	After standing, I again went to each boy and kissed some on the
lips, the more macho on the cheek. Kenny walked to me and took a wet kiss
on the lips.

	While Bobby, Martin and Spike turned on the light and went to bring
out the food, Freddy whispered, "Let's go somewhere so I can look at yo'
ass an' see if it's okay."

	Georgie followed us. Behind the closed bedroom door, I bent over
and Freddy looked and felt. It hurt when he did. "Well, I don't see any
blood. What's it feel like up in yo' belly `cause that's where it went?"

	I moved my abdominal muscles around. "Okay."

	"You are one hard white boy. You crazy too."

	We hugged each other. I sat then, because it hurt, rolled over on
my belly and, with Freddy's and Georgie's help, made notes about the
experience.

	I ate standing up.

     	The next few weeks included a Thanksgiving visit by Georgie during
which Sammy showed his first signs of jealousy.

	"Why do you let all those other boys have sex with you?" he asked
after I'd cum inside him on top of my bed. It was late morning on Saturday
of Thanksgiving weekend. Georgie was at Freddy's to give Sammy and me some
private time.

	"Because they're my friends, too." I should have put it
differently.

	"I thought you loved me?"

	My insensitive answer hit me in the groin. "I love you. I love you
in a different way from the others." I kissed his cheek and pushed in him
to keep my dying dick hard.

	"How different?"

	I sought the right words. "You and I are lovers. They're friends."

	He mulled that over. I hugged and humped gently. "What about you
and Freddy?"

	"Freddy's like my brother. I love him like that."

	"But you have sex with him. Brothers don't have sex."

	"Sure they do `cause it feels good."

	More mulling. "Then what am I?"

	More seeking. "Sort of like, well, married." I regretted the term
as it came out of my mouth.

	He embraced my head. "But that means we can only have sex with each
other, no one else."

	"But we're both boys so it's different." Would that work?

	"I just wish there wasn't so many."

	I discussed the problem with Freddy in our third floor bedroom at
my grandparent's house that night in bed. He was up my rear and Georgie's
slightly growing balls were in and out of my mouth.

	"He's right about one thing, Maacum, you do like sex with a lot a
diff'rent boys. I bet you did it with a hundred."

	Georgie, with my balls in his hand, added with a chuckle, "You'd
have let every boy in our cabin fuck you if you could've gotten away with
it. I saw him get fucked by eight in a row once. He tell you about that?"

	"He knows," I said. "Okay, but what's wrong with having sex? It
doesn't mean I don't love Sammy. He goes out with men. Why's he so
jealous?"

	"'Cause he's like a woman and they're jealous," said Freddy.

	I rolled Georgie's marble sized balls around in my mouth. Freddy
started toward his second orgasm. Georgie reached in and tried to stick his
dick into my mouth. I pushed his hand away.

	"But we're boys. It's different like you said, Georgie. We don't
have babies we gotta take care of. Anyway, I can only see him on weekends
`cause he lives so far away and, even then, he can't spend the night. What
am I supposed to do at night?"

	"Sleep?" replied Freddy with a laugh.

	"C'mon, Malcolm," whispered Georgie, "suck me. We can talk later."

	Sunday morning when we woke up, Georgie brought up the Washburn
money again. "You know, if the cops ever found out about Washburn, say with
some other kid, and somehow heard about what happened at camp, then they
found about all that money everybody got, and your father doing work for
the government and all, there'd be a lot of shit. Your father would be
stupid to piss you off, Malcolm. You could put him out of work and prob'ly
in jail."

	Georgie and Freddy looked at me, waiting for my thoughts, maybe
plans. Then Georgie added, "You get anything from that money? My mother
says it'll pay for my college but that's not two hundred thousand dollars,
more like ten or twenty."

	Again they watched. I'd never expected anything from the
money. That would require my father admitting he'd gotten something because
of me. He'd acted as though he hadn't received anything, almost like
nothing at all had happened, except, of course, that I had been mixed up in
a homosexual problem. I remembered what my grandfather had said.

	"If I said anything, it would hurt Barney and Michael and you too."

	"Depends on what they're doing with the money. If they're smart
like my mother and don't spend it all that fast, they can't prove they've
got it."

	"But it's in a bank somewhere, isn't it?" I asked.

	Georgie smirked. "I dunno but if they're smart, they'll put it
somewhere like in Switzerland. Nobody knows what's in those banks. But your
father went out and bought two new cars. My mother just bought us all some
clothes, and her girl friend.'

	"I still say you ought to put the son-of-a-bitch in jail," said
Freddie.

	Nothing would have made me happier but I was very unsure what would
happen to me. Although I'd most likely end up living with my grandparents,
I also might be sent to way out in the county to my aunt's house, far from
my friends. Worse, if somehow my father was to come out of it all without
going to jail, I'd be in very deep trouble.

	Still, it was something to keep in mind, to consider. My father
hadn't been too much of a problem since I'd come back but things had a way
of happening then going quickly out of control.

	The cold of winter reduced the number of chores my father could lay
on me so I was generally free at least three afternoons a week and most
weekends. That free time was generally spent in Martin's neighborhood or at
my grandparent's with Freddy. I did try to get to Sammy's one afternoon a
week but that required paying a taxi in one direction or another which
required servicing paying customer's from Butch's school, a business that
had dwindled rapidly after the first few weeks. Only tall, homely Scotty
and a fat boy came regularly.

	One aspect of Butch's home field generosity became apparent. What
really turned him on the most wasn't so much getting inside of me but
watching others do so. He always managed to be somewhere in the room from
which he could observe the actual penetrations even if it meant getting
down on the floor to do so. With the fat boy, for instance, he actually
came to the side of the bed and crouched down, oblivious to anyone else
observing him observing the action.

	Sammy wanted Sundays for himself but that was also the only day
Freddy was free. Saturday mornings, I usually had chores of some kind that
Sammy would share but didn't enjoy at all. Worse, both Freddy and I sensed
a growing hostility in Sammy toward Freddy. The weekend before Christmas,
Freddy built a fire by the stream. It was first time Sammy had been back to
the stream after that unfortunate first time over a month before. Freddy
had agreed to the visit to help me cool Sammy's insecurity regarding his
place in my life. The three of us huddled in front of cold, fast flowing
water, wrapped in the blankets and sleeping bag. Sammy made sure he sat on
the far side of me from Freddy whispering in my ear, "He smells".

	Freddy heard him and shook his head. We were all going to be free
for two weeks. My parents were gone and wouldn't be back until the Monday
after New Year's. I was supposed to spend the holidays at my grandparent's
but would also be spending nights at Freddy's, a night or two each at
Martin's, Bobby's and Sammy's, perhaps have Tommy Atkins and Pat O'Riley
sleep on the sly at my house.

	Sammy wanted to be with me everyday during the holidays. His
growing jealousy of every other boy in my life made things very
uncomfortable. Nonetheless, I still loved him very much.

	We had to have a serious talk. I told Freddy my thoughts and, "I'm
gonna sleep at Sammy's tonight. If I can't make him understand about you
and me, I don't know. He's just gotta or maybe I can't see him any more."
The words set off a mild panic attack in my stomach.

	Freddy looked genuinely sympathetic.

	We sat near the back of the nearly empty streetcar on our way from
my neighborhood to his house. Sammy, happy we were to spend the night
together, held my hand in both of his and leaned into me. I frantically
sought what I would say once we got into the conversation about our
relationship and mine with others, especially Freddy. Much as it pained me
to think about it, there was no room for a compromise regarding my greatest
friendship. Could I cut back with the others? There were possibilities
there but each time I considered one, it would either hurt someone like
Bobby or Dickie or take me away from physical pleasure I yearned for with
Robert or Simon. The visits to Butch's house had to continue as they
provided my only real source of income. Sex at school would always be
there.

	Being homosexual was very complicated.

	I examined what was really important to me, trying to put
everything in a kind of hierarchical order. Freddy was at the top and
unmovable. Then came Sammy. After batting around great sex with Bobby and
Dickie and Martin, the income earning sex at Butch's seemed the next most
important. Trying to decide the following tier was futile though Bobby
wasn't just great sex and the source of more, he was the one person who
best understood what it was to be homosexual. I could discuss things with
him that others either didn't want to or were far too ignorant
about. Putting Bobby above Martin and Dickie made me feel guilty.

	Sammy continued to hold my hand as we waited for the bus at a
downtown stop. Passersby looked making me feel very noticed, labeled as
queer.

	"Sammy, people are looking," I said as I pulled my hand loose.

	He took it back. "Who cares. We love each other. Screw them."

	Bobby never would have done that.

	It was dark when we got to Sammy's house. His aunt was upstairs
making dinner. She sighed when Sammy announced there was a guest to share
the food and spend the night.

	We bathed and went to bed early. Sammy was all over me, hugging,
caressing, kissing. I needed to talk but the affection overwhelmed
me. Loving Sammy was so fulfilling. I convinced myself we could do it in
the morning.

	Later, with my twice satisfied cock buried inside him and his hand
back around my head, talking entered my mind. Then his breathing grew more
pronounced and his hand slipped off. I nestled my head along side his and
drifted off to worried dreams.

	In the morning, I awakened to his lips on mine and, "I love you so
much."

	The conversation didn't take place for another two hours. We were
walking in the woods beside the park, again hand in hand though gloved. It
was very cold. He asked the question paramount in his mind. "Do you love
Freddy more than me?"

	His words made me feel colder that the frigid air around us. I
stopped and sat in leaves at the base of a large oak. He leaned into me.

	"Why are you so jealous of Freddy? I told you. It's different with
him. He's like my brother."

	"But who do you love more?"

	"I love you both in different ways."

	"But who do you like being with best?"

	"Shit, Sammy. Why are you so jealous? I love you in our way more
than anybody. I..."

	"But you're with him more than me."

	"No I'm not. And you live a long way from my house. If I come
during the week, I gotta spend almost three dollars on a taxi one way. It's
not like before when I was hustling with you guys. I don't have that much
money anymore. And you know I gotta work at the house on Saturdays, at
least in the mornings."

	"So what about Sundays?"

	"I gotta go to church in the morning and Sunday afternoon's really
the only time I get to be with Freddy. You know that too. He works or
studies the rest of the time. And I come see you during the week when I
have money for a taxi. So, actually, I see you more than him."

	"But you sleep with him a lot."

	I turned to face him. "Sammy, you gotta quit being jealous or, or,
I don't know. You just gotta stop."

	"I'm not jealous, it's just that I hardly ever see you and then you
wanna be with Freddy like yesterday and, well, I want just us to be
together."

	"You want me to stop seeing Freddy and just see you?"

	"No, well, on Sunday's, yeah."

	"Freddy's my brother. I can't do that. It's the only time we have
together, during the day."

	"But you sleep with him a lot, don't you?"

	I stood up, frustration overcoming love. "Sammy, I'm not going to
choose between you and Freddy. I was supposed to stay at my grandfather's
last night and I'm gonna be in trouble for that. I gotta go so he knows
where I am."

	Tears formed across his lower eyelids. "I didn't say you couldn't
be with Freddy. Please don't go."

	"Then let's not talk about Freddy. But I still gotta go soon or my
grandfather's gonna be angry."

	We walked to the swings and tried to discuss other things but it
was awkward. When I left, I promised to come the next day in the afternoon.

	I went to Bobby's in hopes he'd have a solution or at least an idea
that might lower the tension. He was far too busy in the kitchen to discuss
anything. Butch was home and called Scotty to see if he wanted to do
anything. Scotty brought a slightly larger boy, handsome in a dignified
sort of way, his neighbor named Franklin, who wanted a blowjob before
fucking me after Scotty and had no problem paying five for the
privilege. His voice was soft though sounded as though he was used to being
obeyed. He used his five inches well, nearly as well as Robert or Bobby. I
hoped he'd become a regular. We made a date for the following Monday after
lunch.

	By four thirty, Bobby's business was in the hands of Martin and
Spike who were making deliveries.

	"We've got orders for five turkeys and a ham for Christmas Day," he
complained, and I've only got three ovens. And everybody wants them
delivered around one or two. I suppose we can put two turkeys in each oven
somehow, turn `em around a lot."

	I told him my problem with Sammy's jealousy.

	"Well, Malcolm, I know it's hard but you're not going to give up
Freddy. If he can't understand that, maybe you need to just tell him
goodbye."

	"But I love him too."

	"And you love me and Martin and Dickie and who else? There's lots
of boys. And they live a lot closer to you and some of them love you
too. You know I do. And none of them are telling you you can't see Freddy."

	"He's not saying that, well, not exactly."

	"Malcolm, you like sex even more than me. Just enjoy
yourself. Don't let some jealous little biddy make you unhappy."

	So there it was. Bobby's advice was coldly logical, difficult but
convenient to swallow. I did like sex, lots of it. Camp proved that. The
orgies there weren't just for the money, weren't even primarily for the
money. I enjoyed getting fucked, relished it. It was even a major part of
my relationship with Freddy, especially now that he was growing down there
and filling me more. It was rare that we got together and didn't have sex,
always had been.

	I loved Sammy very much but wasn't willing to let him drastically
alter my life. There were adjustments I could make like paying for a taxi
and spending the night with him once a week. But I was not going to give up
my Sundays with Freddy. They were far too precious.

	Freddy was working long hours those last days before Christmas. I
stayed at Bobby's, and had sex with him and a new boy named Zach, a
thirteen year old distant cousin of Bobby who sported a long narrow dick
and took a wonderfully long time to cum.

	At six when Freddy got off, I was outside Edward's with two of the
neighborhood girls who were waiting for Michael. Freddy and I went to my
grandparents' and had a particularly nice meatloaf dinner.

	After we bathed and before we got into things, I checked Freddy's
groin for any sign of pubic hair growth while he looked over mine. He
seemed to have some fuzz growing just above his cock. I licked it to see if
it would stand up wet. Freddy nudged my head back down. I licked his entire
tummy, between his legs and down the insides of his thighs to his knees
then up to his grape sized balls. Freddy pulled my head up to his cock. It
seemed each time I went down on him, he was thicker than the time
before. After leaving him well lubricated, I sat on him and moved my rear
all around before pulling him to me by his arms and kissing his head.

	"I love you, Freddy."

	Christmas Day was a bit complicated by Aunt Martha's need to be at
Bobby's until two when the last turkey went out the door. So, Aunt Martha
and her family would be coming to my grandparent's for a three o'clock
Christmas dinner. Freddy and I would spend Christmas Eve at his house,
watching over the girls after their mother left at five AM.

	In the morning, I gave Freddy a table radio and he gave me a
watch. We took the girls to my grandparents in time to go to ten o'clock
Mass.

	The rest of the holidays were fun. I spent Friday night with Sammy
and gave him a Timex pocket watch, which cost less than Freddy's radio. I
slept with Martin and Dickie Saturday night, then with Freddy Sunday at my
grandparents' after an orgy at Bobby's. Monday, after getting fucked four
times at Butch's, Bobby managed to keep his cock inside me for most of the
night. I spend Tuesday at Sammy's, and New Year's Eve at my grandparent's
with Freddy. Freddy brought his radio so we could listen to the countdown
and try for a simultaneous orgasm at midnight. We were close. I did manage
a long kiss on the lips as the year changed.

	Sammy was upset I didn't spend New Year's Eve with him even though
I lied and said my grandparents insisted I be with them. He calmed down
after I screwed him for nearly an hour Thursday night in his bed.

	I spent Friday, day and night, with Freddy. For dinner, we heated
some of Bobby's leftovers over our fire by the stream then crawled into the
sleeping bag and talked and screwed and slept until morning. Since my
parents were away, we went to my house after awakening half frozen and took
an hour long hot bath. The maid showed up while we were in the tub. I don't
know how she didn't hear the water draining out but we managed to get out
without her seeing us. She was watching the television when we left.

	Freddy rushed off to work and I went to Butch's. His parents had
gone off and left him with the maid. I called Tommy Atkins for the third
time and arranged for him to come to my house at five. He said he'd try to
get Pat O'Riley to join him. Butch called Scotty to let him know I was
there. Scotty showed up with his neighbor. I earned eight dollars. The
neighbor was a good fuck.

	Later at my empty house, Tommy, Pat and I played strip poker after
a dinner of boiled hot dogs bought with some of the money I'd earned
earlier that day. Pat lost and had to blow Tommy. After a couple of
minutes, I suggested Tommy might enjoy my ass more than Pat's novice
lips. They both fucked me and did it again in the morning. It was the first
time Tommy had done it in front of Pat. I was a great screw.

      After cleaning up and making the bed as it had been before we'd used
it, my classmate chums went home and I went looking for Stewart,
unsuccessfully. Freddy and I hung around his and Douglas' houses most of
the day then went off to spend the night at my grand parents'. We both went
to school from there in the morning.

	It was a sexy holiday.

	Other than a gradually building strain between Sammy and me over
Freddy and every other boy I knew, things went smoothly right up to March
fourteenth, Freddy's thirteenth birthday. After a party at his house, we
went to my grandparents where we worked out and ran together. Later that
night, I measured his cock and budding pubic hairs. They were as kinky as
the hair on his head but stretched out, the longest was only three eights
of an inch long. His dick, however, broke three and three quarters of an
inch. Mine remained a paltry three inches long. Freddy continued to insist
my balls were growing but I didn't see it.

	I sucked him off then let go as he came to see if anything would
come out. There was a drop of something clear but I could do that.

	It was the Friday night of Easter Week at his house that Sammy
broke down and cried that I didn't really love him. He was upset that I'd
been with Freddy at my grandparents' Wednesday and Thursday nights and
would be there the next two nights, or so I told him. Saturday was to be
with Martin and Dickie.

	"Shit, Sammy, of course I love you. Who says I don't?"

	"But you're always with all those other boys and Freddy all the
time."

	I tried holding and reassuring him but he ended up sleeping with
his back to me. In the morning, he apologized and begged me to forgive him.

	I kissed him and promised to try to see him more often. Over the
next few weeks, I managed to see him twice during the week using most of my
money on taxis to do it. I slept with him each Friday night, frustrating
Freddy who spent that night at my grandparent's because it was closer to
work than his house. I stayed with Freddy Saturdays which precluded any
nights with Martin and Dickie, upsetting Dickie no end.

	It sort of worked for a while then even that wasn't enough. Bobby
counseled me to break off with Sammy. `\"Martin tells me Freddy isn't happy
about Friday nights. You've got to decide who's more important to you and
we both know who that is."

	In desperation, I tried to find a middle ground.

	"Sammy,' I told him the following Wednesday afternoon in the woods
above the park, "I can only make it every other Friday and just once during
the week. I just don't have enough money for two taxi rides and my
grandfather is angry about me not coming on Fridays. He wanted..."

	Sammy began crying. "I knew this was coming. It's really Freddy
isn't it? He's jealous of us, isn't he? And you love him more than me."

	I had no idea what to say. I got up and walked back and forth
between a couple of trees. Our time together had deteriorated into
intermittent discussions about how I felt about the other boys in my life
and occasional remarks about the inferiority of Negroes. It had chipped
away at the love I felt toward Sammy making it easier to do what I did that
afternoon, walk away.

	He chased after me. "Please, wait, I'm sorry."

	"I gotta get home, Sammy. I'll try to come Saturday."

	"You're not coming are you? It's that Freddy, isn't it? I always
knew you loved him more than me."

	He followed me to the bus stop five blocks away. My greatest
emotion was embarrassment. When the bus came, I felt a great
relief. However, during the taxi ride from downtown to the bottom of the
hill below my house, I began to regret, worried that I'd broken off a
romance that could have lasted a lifetime. I ran up the hill and past my
house, unconcerned that I'd be late. It helped.

	Thursday morning, I went to school early to be with Victor. It was
warm enough to use the grotto bushes. He was wonderful, fucking slowly and
masturbating me gently, taking us gradually to fulfilling climaxes. He even
let me hug him afterward.

	I poured my heart out to Bobby that afternoon. "Well," he said with
his arm around me, "fuck your brains out for a couple of weeks and you'll
be fine."

	I dragged him into his bedroom and got started. The next day, I had
Francis at recess and Tommy, Pat and Martin at lunch. After school was the
regular Friday session at Butch's. We made an appointment for Monday
afternoon. That night I held on to Freddy like a drowning rat.

	"What're you so romantic about"' he asked.

	"I'm not romantic. I broke off with Sammy."

	"Why? What happened?"

	"Nothing. Everything. I just couldn't take it any more. Let me kiss
you."

	He did and was very loving the rest of the night.

	Saturday after cleaning out the barn, I went to Bobby's and got
fucked four times before going to Martin's and making mad love with Dickie
who had just turned eight earlier in the week.

	School would be out in a month. Freddy had spoken to Mr. Johnson
who had assured him I had a summer job as a bagger if I wanted it. I took
it to my mother who took it to my father.

	There was no answer for weeks. Another boy wanted my job. I had
until the end of the first week of June to tell Mr. Johnson one way or the
other. The possibility entered my mind that I was going to be sent off to
camp, maybe even the military camp threatened the year before. I pressed my
mother for an answer. I was given the okay on Thursday the fourth.

	Two weeks later my parents got on a plane and flew to New York
where they boarded a ship for Europe where they would be staying until
after Labor Day.

	I had seen my father perhaps two dozen times since the first of the
year. I considered that a great success.

	I made quite a bit more than Freddy that summer. Butch was sent
back to McFarlane with Georgie but Scotty's neighbor, Franklin, had a
little guest house of sorts behind his large home where we could meet for
sex. He brought in a few of his friends, none of whom fucked nearly as well
as he, but who were quite a bit nicer looking than homely Scotty. We got
together twice a week on my days off. Franklin continued to have his blow
job first then fuck me last. Apparently five dollars was pocket change for
him. His father was both wealthy and generous, the generosity probably an
attempt to make up for not spending any time with his son. Halfway through
the summer, Franklin brought his twelve year old brother along. After an
unsuccessful attempt at getting off up my rear, he glumly settled for a
blowjob.

	None from that group ever became more friendly than an employer
might with an employee.

      By the end of the summer, after spending on clothes, occasional
restaurant meals and gifts for Freddy, there was still nearly two hundred
dollars hidden in my closet and two hundred twenty-seven dollars and fifty
cents plus interest in a savings account at the bank up the street from
Edward's. I felt well prepared for the school year.

	I never did learn all the juggling tricks with customer's
merchandise that Freddy could do with apparent ease. He even could load one
item while another was in the air. I just bagged. Freddy earned at least
twenty-five dollars a week in tips, about five more than me. I earned
nearly double his tips as a prostitute.

	It was in August that my cock measured a quarter inch longer and
even I could see that my balls were growing. Freddy was squirting sweet
ejaculate and had a kinky mat of pubic hair over his cock but nothing yet
on his balls.

	Georgie came straight from Camp McFarlane to stay Labor Day weekend
with me at my grandfather's. He told of screwing Larry all summer at camp
and how the little red head missed me.

	By the time school started, the only friends I had without pubic
hair were Steven, Dickie and Georgie who was growing but still smaller than
me. I had a few scraggly hairs sprouting out of my plump grape sized balls.

	Victor had grown the most over the summer and was the most anxious
to try out his four and a half inches of slim pole up my ass. The grotto
was occupied so we went to the bushes behind the school. The feeling inside
my rectum was fantastic. Unfortunately, he came in about two minutes but
jerked me off so it wasn't too bad.

	Pat O'Riley's had gotten fatter and felt nearly as nice inside me
as Victor. Tommy Atkins had tanned beautifully. His growing body was too
much to resist. I licked his torso shoulders to thighs before allowing him
to stick his four inches inside me.

	Freddy wanted me to continue working at Edward's but I was making
more renting out my ass during a couple of hours over two afternoons than I
made working twenty-two hours over four days as a bagger. And, I valued my
free time. Chores handed out by my father took two afternoons and most
Saturday mornings. One afternoon, Saturday night and Sunday belonged to
Freddy. We generally fit in another overnighter at my grandparents'. The
only unscheduled time I had was Saturday afternoon, which I usually spent
at Bobby's.

	Although he did pop occassionally into my mind, Sammy was a
semi-sweet memory.

	My father was increasingly sour with me, insisting I eat dinner
with him and my mother then ignoring me or criticizing how I ate, dressed
or my longish hair.

	My thirteenth birthday was to be a repeat of my twelfth. As
expected, there had been major changes in my body. I was seven inches
taller and twenty-one pounds heavier. My cock measured three and a half
inches long hard and pubic hair was crawling along the top of my penis and
falling out of my balls. Though others said there was some, I sensed no
change in my voice. Bobby assured me Kenny's cock hadn't grown much if at
all. I even located Philip who agreed in his changed voice to come but
wanted to bring his ten year old friend along. I counseled against it but
left the final decision up to him.

      Since Wednesday, Armistice Day, of that week was a school holiday,
Georgie's mother let him take a five day weekend. He came down on the
Friday evening train and stayed with me and Freddy at my grandparents where
we always did Friday nights. He too had grown quite a bit between the legs
but not a lot otherwise. He was thirteen but not much taller than eleven
year old Steven. His peter had grown faster than mine and was exactly three
and three quarters inches long, a quarter inch shorter than Freddy and had
pretty, soft blond pubic hairs above it. Georgie fucked me twice that
night, before and after Freddy. He came in less than a minute first time
but was delightfully slow and more tranquil the second.

      Bobby had made a white robe out of sheets for me to wear. Then,
excited about the ceremony, did a shorter version for himself. He also
bought a crystal goblet with a gold rim for the sperm to be used as
lubricant. Wine bottles stripped of their labels were used as candle
holders. Except for the addition of Philip and the absence of Sammy and
Simon, it was the same group.

      Once naked, it was amazing how different everyone looked, how much
each had changed over the past twelve months.

      Everyone who could provide sperm came by during the afternoon and
jerked off as a group in Bobby's bedroom. Steven was there to collect it in
the goblet. I sat Buddhist monklike on the bed and observed. A few wanted
me to blow them but I played the detached mystic. Georgie explained that I
was in communication with the Great Spirit contemplating the rest of my
life. Each had a slightly different way of standing and working his
penis. Some had their feet apart, some bent their knees, heads up, heads
down, right arms bobbing. Georgie stood on his toes, perhaps because he was
the shortest by far in the group. Freddy, looking extra black along side
the others, held his elbows tightly against his body. Once they started,
often in pairs or trios, there was silence except for the soft whack,
whack, whack of boys beating their meat. Robert was the only one who
grunted. Spike came the quickest. Louis shot more than even Kenny and
Fish. None stripped. Nonetheless, it kept my dick hard under the toga.

      Steven used a rubber glove to cover the goblet between ejaculations
and after all were done. After Bobby, the last to contribute, donated his
few squirts, the cup was over half full of a whitish, gelatin like fluid.

      As soon as it was dark, the candles were lit.  Bobby led me in from
the bedroom.

      Other than a few minor word changes, I used the same script as the
year before.

      "This is the final day of my childhood, the first day of my
adolescence and manhood. Will you welcome me to my future?"

      I walked from boy to boy kissing each on the lips then returned,
again with a hard on, to where I'd first spoken.

      "I am a homosexual and thank the Great Spirit of Homosexuals for
making me in his likeness. I now ask our priest Bobby to prepare the one
who will provide the great penis of my final initiation into manhood."

      As the year before, Bobby took Kenny by the hand and led him onto the
mattress where he lay on his back and massaged his seven inch dong. It
didn't appear to have grown over the past twelve months.

      Eleven naked boys were spread evenly just outside the circle of
candles which surrounded the mattress with its sparkling clean, pressed
sheet. Only the trio of Martin, Steven and Dickie were tight together,
Steven with his arm around Martin's, Dickie leaning against his brother,
holding his other arm. Everyone was breathlessly quiet as Bobby led me
through the circle and beside the mattress where Kenny lay. The floor level
flickering candlelight enhanced the size of everyone, especially the bigger
boys like Spike and Robert.

      "May I now have the love lubricant given by my friends for this
special time?"

      Martin nudged Dickie forward. He looked at the goblet full of boy
sperm, pursed his lips for a moment then picked it up and held it out in
front of me. I dropped the white robe to the floor, leaned over and kissed
the rim. Bobby handed me a half glass of wine into which Dickie carefully
poured a short stream of the sperm. I rolled it around in the wine glass
and drank it all. The wine seemed a little thicker but I didn't notice much
of a change in taste.

      I took the goblet and said, "This is the love of my friends which I
will treasure for the rest of my life. Step-brother Dickie will now apply
it."

      Dickie knelt beside Kenny and slowly poured the gooey contents of the
goblet over the head of his long dong. It wet his pubic hair and ran down
between his legs. Dickie spread it around the cock shaft with his finger
tips. I turned my back and lifted the robe so he could wipe his fingers
between my ass cheeks.

      Then, I picked up my father's T shirt from the year before, spit on
it and handed it to Dickie to wipe off his fingers.

      I straddled Kenny. Facing his feet and said, "Now is my time."

      I removed the robe and handed it to Bobby.

      "Will everyone come and take my hands and give me your love so I can
do this task."

      All eleven came, shuttling side to side until there were six on one
and five on the other hand. Everyone but Freddy and Georgie were looking at
where I would sit. My two dear friends had their eyes on mine.

      I lowered myself onto the top of Kenny's cock and said, "Oh Great
Spirit of Homosexuals, please help me do this act so I may be worthy of
being one of yours."

      I sat and closed my eyes. It was necessary to move forward twice to
line up my hole directly over Kenny's erect penis. I held it at the base,
getting sperm all over my fingers, and put the head at my anus. With a
little pressure, I felt the glans spread my entry then pop inside. There
was only discomfort as opposed to the pain of the previous year. I stopped
for a moment then began the slide down. I leaned back a bit and slid down
easily. His cock ignited my prostate as it went by. He seemed to hit
something but a side to side wiggle got him past that and up into me until
I was sitting on his scum soaked pubic hair. It was so slippery only his
cock up my rear kept me from sliding backward onto his thighs. Other than
feeling very full, it was quite nice.

      Georgie suggested that this year, it might be more appropriate to
suck the largest first and the smallest last. He said it completed the
cycle of my year of change. So we went the opposite from the year before
with the largest, Spike, coming to me first and the smallest, Dickie,
last. There was a lot more protein than the year before. Kenny's dick
softened a little but didn't deflate as the year before. By the time Dickie
reached orgasm, Kenny was ready to roll.

      I said, "It is time to put the seed of man into my bowels. Please oh
Great Spirit of Homosexuals, let Kenny now fill me with his manly seed. My
friends, please take my hands again that I may draw from your love and
Kenny's well of manhood."

      As the previous year, using my friend's hands, I pulled myself
halfway up Kenny's shaft and dropped slowly back to his groin. I did it
again, this time a little farther up, then more and more, eventually
reaching the head and letting it come out before sitting back down, sucking
the entire seven inches into me. Again, Kenny began thrusting slowly up
into me. Again, with the help of the others, I held my position and let him
do the work. His cock grew but there was no pain. Franklin and his friends
were probably at least as responsible for that as my growth spurt.

      The incredible slipperiness of the sperm eliminated any push or pull
on the flesh of my anus but couldn't prevent the mild pain caused when his
still thickening shaft spread my anus taut.

      The final bloating of Kenny's cock hurt but relatively briefly. His
thigh muscles hardened. He pushed his toes downward as he fired his load
into me. I sat down on him. Bobby immediately sucked me off. It took only
seconds for me to cum. It hurt my sphincter when I squeezed hard on Kenny's
unyielding, still throbbing prong.

      "Thank you my loves. You may now release my hands."

	I waited as Kenny's cock softened then took Freddy's hand and
slowly stood up. I hardly felt the now deflated cock slip out of me. I
again went to each boy and kissed some on the lips, others on the
cheek. Bobby gave me a deep French kiss, much as Sammy had the year before.

	The lights were turned on. I was congratulated and patted on the
back. While Bobby, Martin and Spike brought out the food, Kenny joined
Freddy, Georgie and me in the bathroom.

	"So how'd it feel this time?" he asked.

	"Not as nasty as last time but you're still too big for me."

	"So we try again next year."

            Since it was a school night, we couldn't celebrate too
long. Everyone ate and headed for home. Freddy, Georgie and I went to my
grandparents.

	Later, lying across the bed in our third floor bedroom, the three
of us discussed what it meant to be a homosexual. Georgie, naturally, had
his opinion.

	"There's always been homosexuals. The Greeks had them. They talk
about them in the Old Testament of the Bible. This Dr. Kinsey says they're
all over the place. I figure they gotta be normal. Some kids do that stuff
just `cause they like it like Larry. He's a kid at our camp that likes to
get fucked and'll suck you, but I don't think he's really one `cause he
doesn't act like one. Homosexuals are men who have something female in
them, in their brains. It's why they act like girls a lot and like sex with
guys. Malcolm likes to look at boys. Larry just likes sex with
them. There's a big difference. I'll bet you anything Larry gets married
and has a lot of kids."

	"Okay," said Freddy, "then how come everybody hates `em so much."

	"They don't hate them really. They're afraid of them. I'll bet a
lot of the kids that say the nastiest shit about homos like to do some of
the same stuff they do and it scares them somebody's gonna find out so they
say things bad about homos so nobody'll think they're one. And if somebody
tries to say something nice about homos, guys like that'll point their
fingers and call them fags. You know what I mean?"

	Freddy thought that over. It seemed right to me. What confused me
was kids like Martin and Philip and the men who paid me and other boys to
suck our dicks.

	"So what about guys like Washburn and the others who like to sex
with boys like us. What are they? They like boys, not girls, I think."

	"And Master Gorman. Maybe they just never grew up or something like
that. I don't know," answered Georgie.

	"Little boys are kinda like girls,' suggested Freddy, `all soft and
no hair except on their pussy."

	"I like it with Dickie and he's little."

	"That's `cause you're a sex nut," said Georgie with a smile. "Now,
do we get to fuck you tonight or is your ass all worn out?"

	I sucked them both and enjoyed the sweet elixir they squirted into
my mouth.

	Georgie stayed at my house Tuesday night and enjoyed my orifice one
last time. Since he and Freddy got along so well, we made plans for a
Christmas visit.

        	Things with Philip got a bit out of hand over the next
week. First, as you can imagine, his big cock and all that cum he could
ejaculate excited me. So, I didn't mind him hanging around Bobby's the next
couple of days. Thursday afternoon after school, I took him to Butch's
house. He fucked like he really knew what he was doing, slow and gentle
with a slight lunge at the end of each thrust. His cock reached well up
inside me, setting off every excitable nerve ending in my rectum. He
groaned with each of his many pulses as he pumped great amounts of boycum
deep inside me.

	He admitted to regularly fucking a ten year old he met in the park
near his house. "He likes to do it sitting in my lap facing me so I can hug
him."

	Butch's entry was nice but anticlimactic.

	The problem started Saturday morning when he went after Dickie who
hardly knew him. Martin took immediate offense. Had Philip been more his
size, there might have been a fight. To his credit, Philip apologized but
then went after Steven who was still Martin's squeeze. Size became
unimportant. Bobby and Spike had to separate them.

	Philip went back to screwing his boy from the park. He did call me
at home and said he was sorry if any of the problem had rubbed off on me.

	Other than preparations for Christmas, life got back to normal. My
whoring business grew a little with the addition of two more of Franklin's
friends, one a real looker nicknamed Bassy with a cock the size of Philip's
though a novice in its use. He made all the novice mistakes possible right
off the bat. First, he tried to ram right in, hurting me inside and
out. Then he fucked at a terrible angle, banging something tender
inside. Finally, he repeatedly pulled too far out and poked me hard just
above my hole. That hurt more than the fast entry, and stayed hurt for a
week. Fortunately, he could listen to instructions and the second time was
considerably better if not yet enjoyable. But the additional income allowed
me to be generous during my Christmas shopping.

	My Christmas plans did not include being at my house.

	My mother had unrealistic hopes for a pleasant family Christmas at
home. None that I remembered had gone well. My father and I hardly spoke,
hardly even saw each other. Most of his orders were transmitted to me by my
mother. I'd only eaten in the dining room a few forced times since
returning from camp. My meals were taken in the kitchen or my room. I had
no desire for Christmas presents from my father. In the end, my mother,
anguish in her eyes, gave permission for me to spend Christmas Eve with
Freddy at my grandparents' and Christmas Day at church with Freddy's family
then Christmas dinner prepared by my grandmother but served at Freddy's
house. Aunt Martha would be working from six AM that morning at Bobby's
making Christmas dinners for a half dozen customers. Then Freddy and I
would go to Bobby's and have another Christmas there with Martin and the
gang. I had gifts for everyone. That was my plan.

      That wasn't what happened. At six fifteen Christmas Eve, my father
called my grandfather and insisted I be brought home immediately so I could
spend Christmas with my family. I called back and asked for my mother.

      My father answered. `Just get yourself home!' He hung up.

      The moment I walked in the door, I sought him out in his den. `You
don't want to be with me and I don't want to be with you so why do I have
to be here?' I asked angrily.

      "You are here for your mother. You are not going to ruin another
Christmas for her."

      "No, you are. Why don't you just go away?" I stormed out.

	Mother came to my bedroom. "Dear, can't you just try to get along
for a few hours. After all, it's Christmas."

	The only words I came up with would have hurt her so I said
nothing.

	I searched for black music on my radio and played it just loud
enough to do my exercises to the rhythm of the music. Apparently it was
also just loud enough to irritate my father. He came into the room and
unplugged it.

	"I hear that crap again and you lose the radio," he said and
marched out.

	I mouthed "fuck you" and reconnected it, keeping the volume so low
I had to put my ear near the speaker. It didn't help with my exercises. I
found my mother and told her I was going out for a run.

	"It's very cold dear. Won't that make you sick?"

	"I'm already..., I'll wear a coat and hat."

	I ran to Freddy's. They were decorating and singing. I stayed until
nearly eleven. I expected trouble when I got home but the house was
dark. The back door was unlocked.

	Mother awakened me for Mass at eight. Stewart was serving. He was
obviously glad to see me and grinned repeatedly. I ignored my father at the
end of Mass and went to meet Stewart at the sacristy door. Mother was right
behind me.

	"Malcolm, dear, we have to go."

	"I'll be there in a minute, no, I'll walk home. I want to talk to
my friend for a few minutes."

	"Dear, I think you better come now. Your father's already upset
about you coming home late last night. He knows where you went."

	"Then I'm bringing Stewart home with us."

	Stewart was no dummy. He saw the cauldron brewing. "I can't,
Malcolm. I gotta go home."

	I pulled him with me out to the car and gave him a hug and a "Merry
Christmas". He was looking at my father who was glaring at me and got away
quickly.

	No one said a word on the way home. I went straight to my room and
looked for a black choir on my radio. There were two, one a bit more
raucous than the other. I chose them but kept the volume down. I was
halfway through my sit ups when my father came in and took the radio off my
desk. I jumped up and tried to grab it back. He pushed me back and started
out the door.

	"Gimme my radio back!" I shouted.

	He ignored me. I walked after him. "That is my radio. You didn't
give it to me so give it back!"

	He turned and pointed back where I'd come from. "Go to your room
and stay there until you're called!"

	"Give me back my radio."

	"You think I won't beat your backside, boy? Now do what I said!"

	"Just give me back my radio first and I'll go to my room."

	"Listen to you, you little girl. Why can't you ask like a man?
You're such a little..."

	"Faggot? Homo?" He'd pressed my button. I was running on some inner
machine beyond my control.

	"Right, smartass! Little faggot. When are you going to start acting
like a man?"

	"Never, smartass!" I straightened myself as tall as I could. "I'm a
homosexual and proud of it. I like to get fucked up the ass. And you made
me that way. I'm your son!"

      I stared. He glared.

      "So give me my radio!"

	He relaxed a bit and cocked his head. "So you admit it? After all
those lies? Sandra! Come listen to this."

	Mother appeared in the door to their dressing room behind
him. "Dear, he was just listening to some Christmas music."

	"No, your son just admitted he was a faggot, no, homosexual. Go
ahead, Malcolm. Tell you mother too."

	I regained a modicum of control and wasn't about to admit
anything. "No, I said you were the faggot in the family. You talk about it
so much. Now give me..."

	"Go to your room, boy! Now!"

	"Give me back my radio first." I tried to be calm.

	"Dear, please..."

	"Stay out of this, Sandra. What's it going to be, Malcolm?"

	"Give me back my radio."

	He turned and handed the radio to my mother then went for his
belt. I turned and headed for the back stairs, trying more to avoid a fight
and its repercussions rather than the beating. Before I could get the latch
open, he grabbed my shirt and yanked me back. I held onto the gate. Several
buttons popped off the front of my shirt. I lost all control, turned and
swung at his face with all my strength. He blocked my right but not the
left I came back with. That got him solidly in the gut, right below the rib
cage. He doubled over. Mother screamed for us to stop.

	I backed away. "Cut it out and give me my radio or I'll put you in
jail!"

	He'd been about to come at me but stopped and stared, fury and
confusion on his face.

	"That's right. And Washburn too. I'll rat you all out. You didn't
pay taxes on that two hundred thousand, did you?"

	He stood straighter, one hand where I'd hit him. His eyes opened
wider.

	"See, I know. Now give me my damn radio!"

	His face turned mean. "You think I'll let some little fairy
blackmail me?" He came at me, grabbing at my arm and shoulder. I backed
down the hall toward my room trying to think of a weapon available
there. There were pencils on my desk. I turned and went for the chair to
block him while I looked for something sharp. I was bringing it up as he
grabbed me. Both his hands were below his shoulders to block the chair. I
let go and put a left into his face but he moved his head. I only glanced
him. However it turned him enough that I ran out from under and back
through the door.

	Mother let me by and tried to slow my father as he chased after
me. I headed for the front stairs with him three feet behind. As I made the
turn to go down, he reached out and got a handful of my hair. My feet kept
going. It felt like he was ripping my scalp off. I fell backward screaming
in pain. He held on and came up behind me and put his other hand under my
chin then slid his arm around my neck. He yanked me back up the stairs and
onto the hall floor where he dropped his knees onto my chest.

	He slapped me hard across the face then backhanded me. "You're not
going anywhere, boy!"

	For a moment, I was woozy.

	"Henry! Stop it! Stop it!" shouted my mother pulling on his
shoulder.

	"Get the hell off, Sandra and go to your room!" He pushed her
back. She fell on her rear.

	He grabbed my shirt under my shoulders and lifted me up. I regained
my senses and swung both my fists at his face from either side. The first
caught him in the jaw. The second missed as he pulled his head back and
swung his leg between mine, crunching my balls with his shin. Pain shot
from my groin into my brain. I doubled up. He jerked me off the floor and
dragged me down the hall. My mother was getting up, in the way.

	"Get the hell out of the way, woman!"

	Mother stood and swung at his face, slapping him solidly. His hands
were on me. She swung again. He let go of me to block her blow. I fell to
the floor and started to crawl away.

	Mother shouted, "Stop it!"

	"Get out of my way, woman!"

	I got to the gate atop the back stairs. Mother screamed again and
fell backwards on top of me. He'd pushed her. Some instinct inside me took
over, pumping strength and rage throughout my body. I forgot my pain and
rose up at him, my arms outstretched. I charged and shoved him back, my
shoulder in his midsection. He went down. I jumped on him swinging. He put
his arms up and tried to push me to my right but we were in a narrow
hallway. I was in a craze. Twice I hit him in the head. He punched straight
at me, catching me square on the chin. It should have knocked me cold but
just knocked me backward off him.

	He was up quickly and grabbed my legs. He dragged me rapidly back
to the top of the stairs and shoved me down them. I frantically tried to
grab the posts in the railing but missed and tumbled backward, banging my
head, back and shoulders, to the turn two thirds of the way down where I
was able to stretch out and stop my fall. He was there as I did and kicked
me in the ribs with the bottom of his shoe. I fell backward the rest of the
way, banging my shoulders and head on the floor at the bottom. My father
was in hot pursuit and kicked me in the kidney. All the different pains
seemed to coalesce with the collision of his foot into my side. I curled up
in agony, hurting everywhere.

	For a moment, there wasn't any more of anything. Then, his belt
slapped me across the thigh, then my side, then everywhere. I couldn't
think of anyway to stop him. I cried out more from helplessness than pain.

	Mother screamed again and again, "Henry! Stop it! Stop it!"

	I heard a scuffle. The belt stopped. Heavy footsteps went up the
stairs. I felt mothers' hands on me.

	"Come on, Malcolm. We're getting out of here. Get up."

	She pulled on me, trying to get me off the floor. I wanted to help
but I hurt too much and felt too weak.

	The heavy foot steps came back down the stairs. I was sure more
pain was on the way. Something crashed on the floor beside me. I looked
up. My father's foot came down on top of my cracked radio, smashing it
completely.

	"There's your goddam nigger music radio, faggot. You still wanna
blackmail me? Huh?" he shouted.

	Mother kept tugging on me, trying to get me to my feet. The rage
came back though without the urge to attack. I was too weak for that. But
the fear was gone.

	"You son-of-a-bitch!" I croaked. "Say goodbye to everything you
got! I'm gonna rat you out on everything, you son-of-a-bitch."

	"You're not doing anything, faggot boy, but go back up to your
room!"

	"Yeh, I'm a faggot. But I'm still better than you."

	"You see, Sandra? I told you so. He's a sissy. That's what you get
for raising him your way!"

	Mother, with both her hands tugging on my left arm, straightened up
and nearly screamed, "My way? Nothing around here's my way! Everything has
to be your way!"

	I wanted to get my licks in but the pain sapped my strength. A weak
"Still better than you," was all that I got out.

	"Get upstairs boy!" He grabbed at my shoulder.

	Mother slapped him in the face. He slapped her back. They stared at
each other.

	"I'm leaving, Henry."

	"And you're going to jail, Henry," I forced out and fell to the
floor, strangely trying to laugh.

	I heard raised voices but either couldn't understand them or was
unable to decipher speech. Pain and mental confusion overtook me like a
penetrating acid mist. I heard myself moan. I think I walked out to the car
with my mother's help but I'm not sure. I remember sitting on asphalt for a
moment and not wanting to get up. I kept thinking that if I could get into
a tub of cold water, the pain would stop.

	By the time we got to my grandparents house, I was more aware but
that just made it worse. There was no part of me that didn't ache. Mother
got me up the front stairs and let us in with her key. I dropped to the rug
on the hall floor and curled up. Mother sat beside me and said, "I'm sorry,
Malcolm, I'm so, so sorry." I think she was crying.