Date: Sat, 09 Mar 2024 18:44:48 +0000 From: butters2020 Subject: The Boardwalk 4 final chapter (gay, young friends) It costs money to maintain Nifty. If you enjoy these stories, consider donating to help keep the site up and running. You can do it here: https://donate.nifty.org/. I enjoy getting feedback. If you like the story, please email me, and let me know. My email is butters2020@protonmail.com. If you didn't like the story, my ego couldn't stand it, so email someone else. Look for my other stories under the Prolific Authors page. The Boardwalk, Part 4 By Butters2020 Katie looked pregnant. She wasn't huge, but she had a poochy belly. Dad said She's not allowed to wear a bathing suit anymore but she does it anyway when he's not here. Usually, Dad comes to the island on Friday night or Saturday morning but this week he showed up Wednesday night. Mom and Katie and me had watched the Apollo launch on TV. I can't believe they're really going to the moon. Today Mom and Katie took the ferry to the mainland to shop for pregnant clothes. Since Dad's here, I didn't go to the boardwalk. I didn't want to hang out in the house with just me and Dad so I went surf fishing instead. Two hours later I came back to the house with enough fish for two meals. I cleaned them and put some in the fridge for Mom to cook tonight and the rest in the freezer. Then I took a shower to wash the fish smell off me. It was lunch time and I was hungry. I went to the kitchen to make a sandwich. When I got there my stomach dropped. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table reading the JR magazine with all the naked teen boys in it. "Sit down, Henry," he said all Please to Meet You, Would you like some Tea and Crumpets. I sank into another kitchen chair. My heart was beating so loudly I could hear it. I don't know how Dad didn't hear it too. He turned another page in the magazine. "What do you think, is he Greek or Italian?" He was still using his fake friendly voice. He turned the magazine around so I could see the picture he was looking at. "It's hard to tell in the black and white photo. He's in one of the color photos, though. Maybe we can tell if we look at that one instead. What do you say?" I tried to swallow but my mouth was dry. "I said, what do you say, Henry? Do you want to look at the color photo of this fella?" "No, sir." "No sir?" He turned the page. "This magazine is full of photos just like this one. If you didn't buy it to look at these naked boys then why did you?" "They aren't naked," I said. "Sure, they are. I can see his cock plain as day under this splash of watercolor. Can't you?" He turned the magazine around and held it up to me. "Can't you see his cock, Henry?" "I guess," I said without looking. "You guess? Look at the photograph again and tell me if you can see this boys cock." He shoved the magazine against my face. He pushed it harder and my nose hurt bad, but I knew better than to back away or complain. "Yes, I see it." "You see what?" "I see the boy's cock." I choked back a sob. He took the magazine away from my face and turned to another page. A laughing redheaded boy was next to a blond guy doing jumping jacks. "Then I ask you again. If you didn't buy this magazine to look at naked boys, why did you buy it?" "It's a physical fitness magazine," I said. My throat was so dry. "May I have a glass of water?" "Oh, that's right." He closed the magazine and looked at the cover. "A boy's guide to physical fitness. So, that's why you bought it. To help you get physically fit. All right then, Coach, show me what kind of physical fitness you've been learning from this." I stared at the tabletop, praying for lightning to strike one of us dead. Dad's voice had been super nice and fake friendly before. Now he spoke in his mean voice. "Show me, Henry." He opened the magazine to a photo of one of the muscular boys in vivid color. "This fella looks like he lifts weights. Is that what you do in your room while you look at his picture? You got a set of barbells up there I don't know about?" He hit the table with his fist, making me jump. "I asked you a question." "No sir." "Pushups then? You learning pushups from this magazine? Why don't you do some pushups for me and show me what you've been learning." "Dad." I hated the pleading tone in my voice. He got out of the chair faster than you'd think he could move. He pulled me out of my chair and pushed me onto my belly on the floor. "Show me some goddam pushups, Henry. Show me that's why you have this faggot magazine. NOW!" The sob I'd choked back earlier escaped this time. I tried to do pushups while I was crying. After the third one I just lay on the kitchen floor. Dad said, "It's bad enough I have a slut for a daughter. I will not have a pansy for a son. I will beat the queer out of you if I have to. But I will. Not. Have. A. Faggot. Son." "I'm not a faggot," I croaked. He grabbed my elbow and yanked me off the floor and sat me in the kitchen chair again. I rubbed my arm where he'd gripped it. "Say it like you mean it." "I'm not a faggot." I hated how hard I was crying. I hated HIM. I never saw the slap coming. "Make me believe it." "I'm not a faggot!" I rubbed my stinging cheek. He ripped a page out of the magazine, holding it in front of me. "Then why are some of the pages stuck together, Henry? Why are you jerking off to naked boys?" He pushed the page against my face, hard. "Does seeing this boy's cock make you hard, Henry?" "I'm not a faggot," I said, more quietly. He took the page away from my face and ripped it into tiny pieces. He tore out the next page and shoved it in my face. I told the nearly naked boy that I wasn't a faggot, and Dad tore up that page, too. One by one, he tore pages from the magazine, forcing me to stare at them and shout that I liked girls, not boys before tearing each page in turn into pieces and throwing them at me. It was just bits of paper but I flinched every time. When the magazine was a pile of confetti and I was almost too hoarse to speak, he said. "Get dressed. We're going to the boardwalk." "Why?" One day I'll learn to stop saying "why" when he tells me to do something. Either that, or I'll learn to duck. I rubbed my face where he slapped me. "Excuse me?" he said. "I'll get dressed," I said I went upstairs and changed out of my swim trunks. The last place I expected him to take me was the Hootchie Hut. I guess he was trying to cure me of looking at the boys in the JR magazine by making me look at Hootchie girls wearing just their see-through scarves. Chet and I have already sneaked in here half a dozen times. The Hootchie girls haven't cured me yet. When we passed Curley's Cotton Candy, I saw Chet eating a hotdog. He didn't know who was with me and I could tell he was about to say hey. I managed to give him the high sign letting him know to pretend not to know me. I didn't have to pass the sign to Clay when he saw us. He knew who Dad was from that day at the beach. He could tell that something bad was happening and acted like he didn't see us. He was wearing his green checkered jacket. Dad either didn't notice him or he pretended not to see him. He avoided eye contact just like Clay said the marks always did. Dad took me to Rizzo, the guy selling tickets to the Hootchie Hut. "Two," he said. Rizzo looked at me and shook his head. "Gotta be eighteen, Mac." Dad put his arm around my shoulder like he was Father of the Year. Off to the side I saw Chet talking to Lili with her camera. She took a picture of us. Dad didn't pay any attention to her. He said to Rizzo, "It's okay. I'm his father." "I don't care if you're his bishop. He's gotta be eighteen. You can come in, but the kid can't." "I'll pay double." "You trying to get us closed down?" Rizzo knew that Chet and I had snuck into the Hootchie Hut before. He didn't care if I went in, as long as it was via the Freak Show and not the public entrance. He had never seen Dad before and could see how nervous I was. Dad took out his wallet and tried to hand Rizzo two ten-dollar bills, which was five times the $2 per person price of admission. He held the money out to Rizzo. "I'm not interested in seeing the damn whores, I just want to give the boy a hardon." Rizzo stuck his head into the Hootchie Hut. "Tony!" Tony was the strongman who worked the Freakshow half of the building. He must not have been performing right then because he came out almost right away. "What's up Rizzo?" Rizzo said, "This perv is trying to bring a kid in to get him boned up. You can guess what he wants to do with him next." Tony was wearing his strongman suit, which showed off his muscles. "We don't cater to your kind here, buddy. Beat it." Dad was fuming. "What the hell are you insinuating?" Tony said, "I'm the hell insinuating that you beat it while your legs still work." Dad was breathing hard. I felt his hand pinching my shoulder. "Let's go," he muttered to me. Tony said, "Uh uh. The kid stays here. Where he's safe." Dad started to argue but changed his mind when Tony flexed his muscles. Dad squeezed my shoulder harder, making me wince. "Be home by dinner time. We'll discuss this then." "Yes, sir." I knew what `discuss' meant. When Chet left Lili he'd gone to the bottom of the steps that led up to the Hootchie Hut entrance. He'd heard the whole thing. When Dad was gone, Chet said, "Willikers! Was that really your old man?" I nodded. "Gord, Hank! Do you and him really do the razzmatazz?" "Eww! No! Don't make me puke." Clay was there too. He'd been standing behind Dad the whole time, like he was gonna buy a ticket to see the dancers as soon as Dad was out of the way. "I might puke myself." He was reading a letter. I didn't know who wrote to him but he was really pissed. He folded it and put it in his pocket. "What's gonna happen when you go home?" I shrugged. "Nothing that hasn't happened before." I rubbed the spot on my face where Dad liked to hit me. "I'll be okay." "You sure?" I nodded. Chet said, "Forget your old man. I got something to take your mind off him. Pop's hired a new geek. Tonya the Tattooed Lady. Inked from head to toe. You wanna see her? Even her tits are tattooed!" I tried to work up some enthusiasm. "Sure." Before we left, Chet said, "Hey, Clay, when is the blowhole gonna be open again? It's been two days." Clay said, "I can't make any promises, but check it in an hour. If no one's there, just help each other out." He tossed us both a wink. Chet made gagging noises and I tried not to blush. When we were inside the Freak Show Chet whispered, "That's not a bad idea, Hank. You did okay that one time." "I'm not a faggot!" I shouted, flashing back to the kitchen table with Dad. "If you're so into homo sex you can suck me. I don't suck cocks." I tried to mean it but couldn't help wondering if Clay would like to watch that from behind the blowhole. Thinking of Clay watching Chet give me a blowjob gave me the ol thumbs up down there. No matter how many times I shouted it, either here or at the house, the truth is I am queer. Clay was right: I am what I am no matter what I told Dad, or Chet or myself. My boner proved it. "I ain't no homo," Chet said. "Yeah? Then whose hand is on my butt when my pecker is in the blowhole?" I asked him. "That ain't homo, that's just making sure you don't fall down when you pass out from busting a nut. Gordamighty you're the spazzingest cummer I ever seen." I admit that made me laugh. "How many cummers have you seen?" He grinned and pointed at me. "One. Two, if I count myself." We found a couple of seats in the back row. Dmitri, the sword swallower/fire eater was doing his bit. Chet's Dad saw us. "Hey son. Hey Hank." "Hi Mr. Kazinsky," I said. "Have we missed Tonya, Pop?" Chet said. "She's up next." The fire eater finished and Mr. Kazinsky spent five minutes introducing Tonya the Tattooed lady, saying he found her in the jungles of Borneo. Chet whispered. "Bullshit. He found her in the jungles of Newark." Then she came out on stage. She mostly stood there posing while Mr. Kazinsky used a pointer to describe the different tattoos all over her body. Chet wasn't lying. She had tattoos on her boobs and everything. Seeing her tits wilted my boner. All I thought when I saw her boobs was, I bet it hurt to get tattoos there. She had little round stickers or something over her nipples and a tiny loincloth type thing like the JR boys wore, over her pussy. Other than that, she was naked. I was staring at a real live naked woman fifteen feet away from me. Yawn. I heard Chet breathing hard, almost his big bad wolf huffs and puffs. I looked in his lap and sure enough he had a boner. My pecker was like a piece of cooked spaghetti when I looked at Tonya. But looking at Chet's bulge in his shorts brought my boner back to life. I reached over and gave his boner and squeeze and said, "Honk!" He nearly jumped out of his chair, but he laughed. "I'll get you for that," he whispered. "That's fine, but don't honk me, suck me," I said. He pretended he didn't hear me. When Tonya was finished, Corrine the Contortionist was up. I'd already seen her folding herself into the tiny tomato crate. Chet and I slipped out and headed down the hallway to the blowhole. Chet said, "So what's the story with your dad? If he's not diddling you, why's he want to bone you up with Hootchie dancers?" "You got me to bone up with the Hootchie dancer at the blowhole." Chet gave me a sideways look. "That's different." I changed the subject. "Does your dad know you and Clay pick pockets?" Chet shrugged. I'm not really a dip. I just do it for fun. Clay does it to make money. And yeah, Pop knows. He's the one who taught him. But listen. Clay isn't some asshole. He doesn't steal from little old ladies or veterans." "What about sailors?" I grinned, remembering when I first met them. "Those goobs? They aren't veterans yet. He only lifts wallets from sailors who are jerks. He cases 'em good before he marks 'em." We were in the closet with the blowhole. "I hope there's someone there this time." I did too now that I knew who it was. I thought I might be jealous, but I wasn't. It was hot, knowing it was Clay sucking on Chet's boner. But it would also be hot knowing Clay was watching Chet sucking me. If I could get him to do it, that is.. He closed the door to the closet and took his Zippo out of his pocket. Hoping Clay was there to hear me, I said, "If there's no one there, we'll have to take care of each other. But you do me first." "Jesus, Hank, you going homo on me for real?" "Maybe." He was about to stick his boner in the blowhole but stopped to look back at me. "That's between you and the sailor fruits. I'm good with the Hootchie girls." He stuck his boner in the hole. After a few seconds he backed out and said, "Dammit, Hank you jinxed it! There ain't no one there!" "Really? Let me try." I pulled down my pants and put my boner in the blowhole. Right away I felt a tongue licking on it. I did my best not to react. I backed off the apple crate. "You're right. What do we do now?" "I ain't sucking your dick, if that's what you mean." "Come on, Chet. I sucked yours that time. Fair is fair. Don't be a Henry. If you suck mine, I'll suck yours. You know getting sucked is better than jacking on it." He looked at my boner like he was thinking it over. "Yeah, that's true," he said. "But there's something that's supposed to be even better than a blow." He stopped looking at my boner to look me in the eye. "Let me fuck you and I'll suck your dick. But I get to fuck you first." My boner twitched. "I don't know." His hardo was the same size as mine. I wasn't sure it was big enough to rub my nut-to-butthole bridge or push that magic spot that Clay's fat cock had pushed. "Who's the Henry now?" Chet said, leering at me. "Come on, just try it. We can stop if you don't like it." He was already kicking off his pants, which had been pulled down to his knees. Then he took off his shirt. He looked around the closet and grabbed a can of wood butter from a shelf. "Get naked and get on all fours. Or lean over the apple crate." When Clay fucked me I'd been on my back. I never thought of doing it this way. Chet flipped a light switch on the wall I'd never noticed before. A dim bulb in the ceiling turned on. It was only fifteen watts. It didn't light up the closet but it made it a tiny bit less dark. "If that's been there the whole time, why have we always been here in the dark?" "I don't want the Hootchie girls to see who we are, in case they think we're too young to get a blow. But since they aren't there, it don't matter now and I need to see what I'm doing." Good, I thought. Clay needs to see what you're doing, too. "What's that stuff?" I asked when Chet scooped out some of the wood butter and smeared it on his boner. "Dmitri rubs it on his swords once a week. All I know is its slimy and will make my hardon go up your ass easier. I use it when I jerk off sometimes. Go on and lean over the crate." I slid the crate to the middle of the closet so Clay would have a good view. I lay on my belly on top of the apple crate. Chet knelt behind me. He spread my butt cheeks, exposing my hole. I felt the head of his pecker against it, rubbing the wood butter over it. "You ready?" Chet asked me. His voice sounded different. "Stick it in me." My own voice was husky. It took him a couple of tries but then it slid right in. We both moaned. I said "yeah" and he said "gord" and then he let go of my butt and put his hands on my hips, steadying himself. He started doing the in and out that Clay did to me on the beach. I'm not going to lie, it felt better when Clay did it, but it wasn't Chet's fault. Clay's cock was twice as big around and two inches longer. But Chet's boner still felt good when he fucked me. I moved back and forth in counterpoint to Chet's in and out, meeting his thrusts. I reached my boner but before I could grab it Chet reached around and started jacking on it. "Fuck me harder, Chet." He didn't know it, but he was teasing me something awful. That damn curled head of this pecker was tickling at the spew button inside me but not pushing it hard enough to give me the feelings that Clay had. I pushed back against him as hard as I could but it was still just teasing the spew spot. "Do it harder!" "I'm going as hard as I can, you dang homo." He was. He wasn't going faster, but he was really slamming into me. Bam Bam Bam. And each time he did he grunted. He was so focused on fucking me he let go of my boner. He also let go of my hips and was kind of laying on me now. His head was against mine so we were cheek to cheek. His hands were wrapped around my middle. Feeling his chest on my back was nice, like we were joined somehow, which made up some for him not pushing the spew button inside me. In that position his hips were doing all the work now, which changed the angle of what his boner was doing inside me. I grunted with each thrust. It was nice but not what I needed. It wasn't Thanksgiving dinner; it was only appetizers. But man, what great appetizers. And then he went all rigid when he pushed in me and he was huffing and puffing and I felt him squirting in me and then even before he could say Gord or Willikers he was being pulled off me and Clay's voice said, "Not like that, Chet. This is what he needs." And half a second after Chet's boner was out of me Clay's big fat hardo was inside me, pushing in and out and oh my god, NOW I was getting what I needed. NOW my spew button was being pushed, and I felt full inside, so full. My insides were being stretched and Clay was fucking me the way Chet wasn't able to, the way that I needed. "Willikers!" Chet said next to us. He was still naked, sperms oozing out of his pecker. Clay ignored him and kept fucking me deep and hard, rubbing that bridge between my nuts and butthole and at the same time his cock was pushing that spot inside me and I thought I was going to die from the feelings but I didn't care because if this is what death felt like, then let me die. Then he grabbed me around the belly and flipped both of us over, and I wasn't laying over the apple cart anymore. Clay was on his back on the floor and I was laying on his belly while he fucked me. My boner pointed to the ceiling. Clay said, "Suck his cock, Chet. You said you would if he let you fuck him. Pay up." "How do you know what I said?" Chet demanded. "Don't be a welsher. Suck his cock or the blowhole is closed to you forever." Chet was on my boner in two seconds flat. Between Clay fucking my butt, rubbing my bridge, and pushing my spew button and Chet sucking my pecker, I was done. I don't know if Clay spewed his goo or not. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and I made noises that weren't words and pinpricks of lights exploded in my brain and the head of my cock exploded in Chet's mouth and everything went black. When I opened my eyes, Chet was spitting my goo onto the floor and Clay was still fucking me. I had no more goo to spew. My balls were empty. But Clay was still pushing my spew button inside my butt and it was still giving me the spew feelings. I lay there trying to focus my eyes and trying to make words while Clay fucked me. Every couple of seconds he kissed the back of my neck or reached around and pinched my tits or played with my balls or my pecker, which was still hard as a nail, and then he was spewing his goo inside me where it mixed with his brother's sperm which was sick and hot at the same time. I had images in my brain of a two headed baby in a glass jar with two peckers, one big and thick and one tiny with a curled head at the tip. Chet said, "I got to get the taste of cum outa my mouth. I need to drink a lemonade or a bottle of mustard or something." Clay put on his shorts but left his underwear on the floor. "You boys go ahead. I need to go to the mainland to send a telegram and then wait for an answer." When Clay left, I said to Chet, "A bottle of mustard?" He said, "Mustard, turpentine, battery acid, whatever." We got root beers from the hotdog cart. We posed for Lili, who told us there would be no charge for our photo. I'd gotten used to following Clay around watching him work the marks, lifting their wallets. Sometimes that was all he did, take the wallet and keep on going. But if he knew I was watching he'd show off and take their wallet, remove the cash, and then put their wallets back in their pockets. The poor saps were none the wiser. He was amazing. Clay wasn't back from Western Union. Since we couldn't watch him work, we went on every ride at the Boardwalk, not just the fun ones like the Hell Hole and the Ferris Wheel and the Bumper Cars but the dumb ones, too like the kiddie train ride. We went through the Fun House three times. I even let Zoltan tell my future hoping to see how bad I was going to be beat when I got home. Chet and Clay were right. He's just a big fake. We managed to waste the whole day, but it didn't feel like a waste. When we got hungry, I thought about the fish I wasn't going to have for dinner, but the footlong hotdog I shared with Chet was just as good. It was getting dark. Lights turned on on the rides and booths. I didn't care that I'd missed dinner at home. I already had a beating waiting for me because of what happened at the Hootchie Hut. Every minute I was late would add to Dad's anger and add to the smacks but after a while I always stop feeling the slaps and the hits with the belt and just kind of leave my body. We watched the rubes try to throw baseballs at milk bottles they were never going to knock down and shoot BB guns with misaligned sights at metal ducks and rabbits and throw darts to pop balloons that were underinflated so they darts just bounced off them, and play other rigged games, all in an attempt to win prizes they were never going to win. Sailors swung the sledgehammer to try to ring the bell, proving their strength to the girls on their arms. When the Freakshow closed, Zoltan went to his tent and told people's fortunes. At ten o'clock the crowds thinned out some. Chet said he had to go help his dad count the day's receipts and he'd see me tomorrow. The girls who danced at the Hootchie Hut entrance, tempting men to part with two dollars, were gone. The souvenir shop turned out its lights and closed its doors. A few game booths were still open but the boardwalk was closing for the night. I couldn't put it off anymore. It was time to go home. But then I saw Clay. It was the first time I'd seen him on the boardwalk without his green checkered jacket. He wore a white T- shirt and dungarees. He reminded me of the boy on the cover of JR magazine. He came over to me. "That was something else in the blowhole closet today." "The parts I remember sure were." He tossed me a wink. I wondered if my stomach would ever stop doing flipflops when he did that. "Trust me, the whole thing was incredible. Am I going to have to carry ammonia capsules with me every time I make you cum? Or maybe you need to wear one of those medical alert bracelets that epileptics wear." He lifted my arm and pretended to read my wrist. "Warning: I pass out from loss of semen. Please replace sperm orally by inserting your penis into my mouth." He dropped my wrist. "Then you can blow the ambulance driver." "Gross! What if the ambulance driver looks like Tiny?" Tiny was the World's Fattest Man from the Freak Show. He weighed four hundred pounds and smelled like spoiled ham. "Henry!" I backed away from Clay. My good mood evaporated. It was Dad. "I told you to stay away from that boy!" He was standing in front of the closed Souvenir store next to the glass display case with the photos Lili had taken the last three days. He was right next to the picture she'd taken a few hours ago of me and Chet. I automatically reached for my face, rubbing it where Dad liked to slap me. Dad gave Clay a nasty look before saying to me, "Tearing up that pansy magazine wasn't enough. You need a lesson with more impact. I'll add it to your punishment for making your mother worry when you didn't come home for dinner. Let's go." I took a step but Clay put his hand on my shoulder, halting me. "What kind of impactful lesson?" "None of your business. But since the original message didn't sink in with him, let me make it clear to you: Stay away from my son, I won't have him being influenced by your kind." Clay smiled. "My kind?" Dad held up his arm and made his wrist go limp. "You don't fool me." His voice got hard. "I won't tell you again, Henry. Let's go." "It's okay, Clay," I said. "No, it's not. You're not going with him until I know he's not going to hurt you." Dad didn't run but he didn't dawdle. A few quick steps halved the distance between us. The boardwalk wasn't as crowded as it was during the day but there were still a few couples walking hand in hand. Dad ignored them. "You insolent pup," he spat. "You think I'm going to let some faggot tell me how to discipline my son? Who the fuck are you to tell him he can't go with me? You're just some fudge packer who's been doing God knows what to him." Dad tapped his chest. "I'm his father." "Not just Hank's father," Clay said. He took a piece of paper from his pocket. It was the letter he'd been reading earlier today. He read it out loud. "Dear Warren, I know you give me money for Charlotte but that's not enough. She deserves to know who her daddy is. She has a right to meet her brother Henry and her sister Katie. And I have a right to more than diaper money every month. If my daddy knew you were Charlotte's father, I think he would agree. I promised you I would never tell him your name and I won't but you have to do what's right. I'm not asking you to leave your family for me, just--" That's as far as he got. Dad tried to take the letter from him but Clay was too fast. He sidestepped Dad and pocketed the letter. Dad said, "Where did you get that?" "Out of your wallet, you dope." Dad patted his back pocket and looked confused. "I kept the letter and put the wallet back. Today outside the Hootchie hut. The letter is signed Elizabeth." I was gawking at Dad with my mouth hanging open like a fish I'd just pulled out of the surf. "What about it, Hank?" Clay said. "Do you want to meet your little sister, Charlotte?" "Dad?" "Give me that letter," Dad said. "I'll hold onto it, so I know Hank doesn't get any 'lessons with impact.'" Just like always, Dad's hand was quicker than the eye. He would have been a good dip. One second his hand was empty and the next there was a knife in it, a switchblade. "Give me the letter, boy." I never heard his voice so mean. Clay laughed. "I was raised by carnies and roustabouts. You wanna dance with me, Mister? Let's go." As if I didn't have enough to keep up with, Chet showed up. I don't know where he came from, but he was suddenly next to Dad, looking worried. "Clay? Everything okay?" "Everything's fine. Go home, Chet." Dad was disgusted. "Jesus, how many boys are you fucking?" "Willikers!" Chet exclaimed. "You think I'm doing the razzmatazz with my brother? No offense, Hank but your old man's a pervert." Dad smiled his meanest smile. "Brother, eh?" And quick as lighting he grabbed Chet by his arm, twisting it behind his back. He put the blade of the knife to Chet's throat. "Henry, get that letter from your fairy friend and then go home. I don't think the fruit will object to handing it over anymore." He pushed the knife against Chet's throat until he whimpered. "Isn't that right Fruit's Brother?" There was a flash. Lili had taken our picture. Dad didn't even look at her. "After you get the letter, get that bitch's camera, and go home. I'll be right behind you." Clay said, "Stand behind me, Hank. Things are going to get crazy in a second." I looked from Clay to Dad, and then Chet, who looked scared, but he nodded at me. I stood behind Clay who suddenly shouted, "HEY RUBE!" They came from everywhere. The Freakshow, the Hootchie Hut, the Souvenir store, the rides: Tony the strongman, Zoltan, Mr. Kazinsky, Tonya the tattooed lady, Dmitry the sword swallower, and Corrine the contortionist. Fritz carried his biggest hammer. Rizzo had a knife. Even 400-pound Tiny came waddling out swinging a chain. All of them headed for Clay, I guess because they knew his voice and he's the one who shouted Hey Rube, but once they saw Dad with a knife to Chet's throat, they changed course. Dad looked nervous but held his ground. He squeezed Chet's arm, making him yelp. "I'll gut him like a fish," he told Tony, who was closest to him. Tony kept right on going. "You're the perv who tried to give Hank a hardon today." The others pushed in closer. Rizzo said, "That's right. And now he's trying to make off with Chet." Dad said, "I'm Henry's----Hank's father!" Rizzo said, "That don't give you the right to perv him in the Hootchie Hut." I knew I was risking my life but I said, "Today at the kitchen table he forced me to look at pictures of nearly naked boys in a magazine." Some of the crowd made angry noises. Dad glared at me. Clay held up the letter. "He knocked up some girl named Elizabeth Morgan down south in Hueytown." Then he held up a telegram. "I found out an hour ago that she was fifteen when she had this asshole's baby." I said. "My sister's sixteen. And she's going to have a baby, too!" The crowd pressed in on Dad. He eyed the crowd, doing the math. He bit his lower lip, then flung Chet at Tony and turned around and ran. We never saw Dad again. I don't know if it's because he was afraid the carnies on the boardwalk would kill him or he was afraid Mom or Gramps would kill him when they found out about fifteen-year-old Elizabeth and my half-sister, but either way, he's gone for good and that's all I care about. The rest of the summer me and Clay took turns working the blowhole. Chet charges Sailors $6 to lead them to the closet and we split the money three ways, but then Clay tosses me a wink and gives me his cut. He always says, "Don't tell Chet," but I think Chet knows. He doesn't care, though, because he gets two bucks for every horny sailor, plus free blowjobs. Chet refuses to stick his boner in the hole if Clay is on the other side. He says he can look past the homo aspect with me but he doesn't want any 'molesto incesto blowjobs.' Chet lies to some of the sailors and tells them a Hootchie girl is on the other side of the hole. But lots of sailors are told there's a hot guy sucking their boner and some are told a hot twelve-year-old boy is giving them a blow. Those sailors get charged double. Chet calls it the homo surcharge. He says he isn't lying to the homo sailors like he does the straight ones. But that isn't true. I might be twelve but I don't think I'm all that hot, I don't care what Clay says.