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Chapter 10

Branching Out, Father Simons

by Michael Peterson

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.

Martin O'Malley and I were a formidable pair tossing baseball cards. He knew all the players and the values of the cards they were on. I was a crackerjack tosser, hitting leaners almost at will and negotiating beneficial trades. Martin and I split the proceeds. By the end of March, we had an enormous collection, so large, it seemed a good idea to cash in some of the value by selling cards to those who had lost theirs, often to us, and others who wanted particular ones we had in our collection. We took home seven dollars and twenty cents the first week, a considerable sum in nineteen fifty two. The next two weeks we didn't do as well but were being sought out by customers from all grades and ran out of salable cards even though I made some super trades.

Sister Mary Kathleen, the principal, heard about our little enterprise and called us into her office. After bouncing her veil back on her head, she asked, 'So tell me about this shady business you've been up to, cheating your fellow students?'

I acted aghast at the accusation. 'Sister, we didn't cheat anyone.'

'That's not what I'm hearing. Did you charge Francis Herndon fifty cents for a baseball card?'

'Yes, sister, but it was a Lou Gehrig and they're hard to find. We had to trade a bunch to get it.'

'Listen, boy, this is an institution of learning, not a black market. I better not hear another word about these shenanigans or I'll have to put in a call to your parents.'

'So we find other customers outside of the school,' I told Martin as we left. 'We make our trades here and sell them in our neighborhoods.'

My friend liked the idea immediately. The problem was that there were very few kids where I lived and most of them were either too old or too young to be interested or dirt poor like Freddy and Stewart. That left Martin's neighborhood in a lower middle and working class sector one streetcar, a trolley and a four block walk from my home, a trip that took well over an hour considering the long waits for the streetcar and bus. We decided I should go home with him on the school bus one afternoon and return home after school the next day. I told my mother I'd been invited to a classmate's house to help him with his homework and meet his family.

'We've been friends all year and he wants me to see where he lives. Next, he'll come here.' I gave her his phone number so she could verify what I'd said. I asked to be allowed to do my Wednesday afternoon chores on Saturday. Permission was granted, at least by my mother. My father didn't mention it at the dinner table, the only time I saw him during the week.

I'd told Freddy about my baseball card business and partnership with Martin. Since I shared some of the income with him by way of buying us candy and sodas, he thought it was fine. He did seem a little somber about my staying overnight with the boy, a very understandable sentiment considering we had only been together in bed for a few hours since I was forced to return to my father's house.

I was particularly attentive to his erotic needs that afternoon. It was in the sixties so I sat on his cock sideways and revolved my hips on his crotch. It felt fantastic to me and, from the closed eyes and pursed lips, he enjoyed it too.

Martin's house was a quarter the size of mine and sat on a small lot. The

house was separated from their neighbors' property by only a few feet on either side. There were plenty of other kids around, most of whom went to a public school about a half mile away. I saw two immediately who caught my fancy and wondered how to get them naked somewhere. Martin introduced me around and showed off the baseball cards. We did some trading and throwing in an alley against the back wall of a supermarket. They weren't as easy going about losing as most of my private schoolmates.

Two boys, one of whom had a pretty face framed with blond hair, a raspy voice and a potentially nice body, accused me of cheating. He wanted to see my cards to check if they'd been moistened. Slightly wet cards were easier to control. Martin, as tough and nearly as big as my accusers, pushed between us.

'We don't got to show you nothing!' he declared in poor English I'd never heard him use in school.

I put my hand on his shoulder. 'Let them see the cards. They're the ones that we just won from them and the others so how could we be cheating unless they wet them before us.'

The logic was faulty but it was threatening enough that the blond and his friend backed down.

'You can buy 'em back, Spike', Martin told the blond. The name 'Spike' excited me even more.

'I ain't buyin' shit from you, Martin. I'll win 'em back. Let's play!'

After letting Spike win a couple of cards, I took every one he had. He just threw the cards any old way instead of angling them so they'd slide to the stone wall and stop against it. Several of mine were leaners. Before every toss, I made a point of showing him that my cards, formerly his, were dry and flat. I hoped their respect for Martin's strength and toughness would prevent them from trying to regain their cards by force.

Martin was bubbling over our sixty-four card winnings. 'These gotta be worth twenty dollars. Let's go down the street and start selling 'em.'

We didn't have to. Four of the kids who'd been tossing with us bought four dollars and ten cents worth right there. One dollar was Spike's. I saw him give it to another boy and whispered what cards to bargain for. Shortly before dinner, Martin found some other neighborhood kids who ran home to hustle money from their mothers. We sold two dollars and twenty cents more.

Dinner was fried Spam with potatoes and peas. There were seven of us at the table: Martin's parents, his older and younger sister, and six year old brother who, though skinny, one could see would grow up as physically handsome as Martin. I wondered if I was going to have a look at them naked.

I missed the dessert my mother usually gave us.

We watched television on their small round tube set while doing our homework. The two girls fought over what program they'd watch.

Martin told me, 'They always get to watch what they want. I never get a chance.'

My mother called to speak to me at about seven thirty.

'Just wanted to be sure you were okay,' she claimed. I knew otherwise.

The house was cool so Martin wore two shirts and corduroy pants making it hard for me to check out his body. I'd seen him often in the pool and when it was warm, he was one who took off his shirt and undershirt. And, of course, I'd seen him naked a few times in front of the dressing cubicles at the school pool. But all that was different from seeing him naked up close and personal. After I finished my homework, I moved tight against Martin to help him with his. He didn't move, even when I put my arm around his waist. Then it was time for bed.

Martin and his little brother slept in the same bed. The plan for that night was for Dickie, the six year old, to sleep across the foot of the bed and for us to lie lengthwise above him. I was taller so I'd sleep on the side where Dickie's feet lay.

'Can't we take a bath first?' I asked hopefully.

'Yeah, I wanna take a bath,' insisted Dickie who started taking off his clothes.

'But Beverly always wants to at night so we can't use the bathroom,' explained Martin.

'But I wanna take one this time,' again insisted Dickie. 'I'm gonna tell mom.'

He marched out in his underwear and one sock. He was thin but had a cute little bottom. The expression on Martin's face was one of concern, like little Dickie might be opening a can of worms he'd prefer stayed sealed. I probably had the same expression due to my concern that Martin might not want to get naked in front of me. I also wondered how he'd take any advances I would probably make in bed that night. My chest was already tight with anticipation of a new conquest.

Martin's mother called out, 'Beverley, let the boys bathe first.'

'Aw, mom?' came the anguished reply from the girls' room across the hall.

Dickie's tee shirt was in his hand when he rushed back in. After tossing it toward but not to the bed, he pushed off his underpants and ran out the door, his cute little buns bobbing up and down.

Martin shrugged his shoulders and sat on the side of the bed to untie his shoes. I followed suit, undressing in the same order as my friend. He stripped to his underpants but didn't take them off. I followed him into the bathroom. He had a nicely formed bottom like Dickie. I wanted to see the hardware in front.

Dickie was running water into the tub when we arrived. Martin took over to get the water to a comfortable temperature. I removed my underpants hoping he'd feel more at ease taking off his. Dickie leaned over the tub blocking my view of his crotch. The tub seemed to take an unbearably long time to fill. No one said a word. I was getting cold.

Finally, there was about a foot of water in the tub. Martin checked it with his hand then said, 'Dickie, you get in last, and don't go splashing everywhere.'

He slipped his hands into the sides of his underpants and pushed them down. His backside was beautiful but I still couldn't see either boy's peter. I moved to the side of the tub and felt the water, glancing sideways but neither boy's crotch was visible over the side. Then Martin stepped in, the leg on my side first, still blocking my view. I wanted to jump over the side I was so frustrated. He sat with his back to me. I went to the opposite end of the tub, staring straight at his crotch, unable to help myself. It was hard to see well under the water but certainly nice. He noticed my gaze and covered up with his hands. However, he did glance briefly at mine, which, I realized too late to do anything about it, was partially hard. Dickie was less inhibited.

'Look at Malcom's peter. It's all big,' he laughed.

'Shut up, Dickie, and get in the water, but don't splash or Beverley'll say we made a mess and we'll have to clean the whole room like last time.'

'That was Willy's fault. He was the one splashing first.'

'Who's Willy,' fell out of my mouth. There was no one in our class by that name.

'Just a kid.'

My legs pressed against Martin's. Dickie got in at the middle and sat with his back to the wall and his legs doubled up over ours, pressing us even closer together. My left foot slipped over Martin's leg and came to rest just short of his balls. I was tempted to slide down and touch his groin but resisted.

'Watch out,' announced Martin, I'm gonna get wet.' He slipped down into the water. My foot touched his cock and balls as they went by each way. That made me really hard. The moment he was back up, I duplicated the maneuver, again sliding my foot and lower leg across his penis. On the return, he seemed to be a bit larger. Before I could see anything, Dickie slid forward, pushing our legs up the far side of the tub as he dunked himself. I got a good, though brief, look at his fat circumcised peter.

Martin stood up to wash, finally giving me a good look. He had bloated a little. His body shone nicely, the wet accenting his muscles, especially in his abdomen, which was about all I was interested in. Dickie noticed again.

'Malcom's looking at your peter, Martin. Wanna see mine?' He jumped up and flipped it with his hand.

'Sit down, Dickie. You're gonna make a mess.'

 Dickie ignored his brother. 'Lemme see yours, Malcolm.'

'Dickie, shut up and sit down,' ordered Martin, frustration in his voice. His cock deflated.

The six year old was not to be denied. 'C'mon, Malcolm, lemme see it.'

I lifted my hips out of the water. 'Okay?'

'You happy now, Dickie?' asked Martin.

Dickie laughed and fiddled with his as he sat back in the water. Martin had lathered himself up and handed me the soap. I stood and soaped up, all the while watching Martin's hands rub all over his beautiful body. My dick stayed stiff as a log. Dickie stood, showing off his, now as hard as mine. I handed him the soap. Martin leaned back as he washed out his crack. I had a powerful desire to suck on him, soap and all and would have had Dickie not been there. I was losing any concern he'd say something to our classmates.

Dickie took his time washing his fat little dick. I reached back between my legs to clean out my crack, my eyes on Martin's with an invitation he certainly didn't comprehend. Dickie grabbed at my cock and laughed.

'Martin's gets bigger than that.'

'Dickie, shut up,' said Martin with a little less insistence than before.

'Show 'im,' said Dickie.

'Malcolm don't wanna see nobody's dick hard. You talk too much, Dickie.'

There was no way to answer that other than to look so I did. Martin hurried his bathing and sat in the water. I was very disappointed. After a few dunkings, Martin got out and dried himself.

 As I dried, I had a hope that Martin was merely warning me about Dickie's overactive mouth, that once the six year old was asleep, something was possible. We walked back to the bedroom with towels around our waists. The cool air made me want to get into bed as quickly as possible. I decided to do so naked and see what comments it might produce.

Dickie, putting on his underpants and tee shirt, said, 'Malcom sleeps naked' and laughed.

'It's cold,' I countered.

'Put your clothes on in bed,' suggested Martin. He handed me my underwear.

I accepted, pulled them under the covers but didn't put them on. Dickie climbed in below me, his legs against and over my feet. Martin turned off the light and got in beside me on his back, his arms folded across his chest. No one said anything for a while until Dickie wished us a 'good night'. I repeated it and turned on my side, facing Martin. In the dim moonlight, I could see his eyes were open, looking straight up. I waited for the sound of heavy breathing from the six year old and planned what I'd say or do first with Martin. He closed his eyes but I could tell he was forcing it. I let my hand side over his stomach, just below his folded arms. He didn't move. After a few minutes, I moved closer and ran my hand down to his tummy. No reaction. A few minutes later, I pushed my fingers down to the elastic on his briefs. He didn't stop me. I got bold. Stretching my little finger, I sought out his cock. It was hard. I gently took hold. It was bigger than mine, about the size of Freddy's but thicker. Strangely, rather than wanting him to stick in my ass, I wanted first to put it in my mouth like I was doing with Tommy.

Martin didn't budge as I massaged his penis, still enclosed in his underwear. I pulled my hand up and slowly pushed my fingers under the elastic band of his briefs. He sucked in his stomach a bit. It seemed a good sign so I reached quickly for his stiff cock. If felt fantastic, smooth yet hard, thick, kind of muscular like the rest of him. I listened for Dickie's breathing but heard nothing. I nudged him with my toes. He didn't move. I felt Martin's balls, so hot and soft in their little baggy. I wanted to taste them, lick them all over, suck in Martin's peter.

I pulled out my hand and with one on each side of him, tugged his briefs downward. They stuck firmly under him so I was just able to get the front down to below his balls. What was Martin thinking? He was certainly awake and had made no effort to stop me so far. Why wouldn't he let me take his briefs off?

It didn't really matter at that point. I was on autopilot. I slowly ducked under the blanket and sheet then turned my upper body around until my head was over his crotch. He didn't move. I could smell washed boy, feel the warmth of his genitals. I opened my mouth and took him in. The feel of his fat cock in my mouth instantaneously warmed my innards. He stiffened and breathed in but that was all. I ran my tongue around his shaft and over the circumcised head. His penis bloated and stiffened more. I went up and down on him. His underpants pressed against the base of his shaft. I tried to push them down further. Martin lifted his rear end. The briefs slid down to his thighs. Inspired by his participation, I ran my wet upper lip over his balls and fondled them between my fingers. I masturbated him with my mouth, up and down from the slick head to his soft groin. I began to think of his cock in my ass. It was as long as Freddy's and would hit my special spot but would he do it?

It wasn't to be. I could feel him stiffen, arch slightly to me. His cock bloated even more, stiffened even harder. He came, his body trembling in spurts, three, four times. I kept my head still knowing that any further movement would irritate more than pleasure him. I rested my face on his stomach. He pulled up his briefs then refolded his arms over his chest. I fell asleep.

Dickie's hand running up my thigh to my crotch awaked me in the morning. I was still under the covers but no longer on top of Martin.

'You slept naked,' said Dickie.

'Uh huh,' I said thinking fast as I could while still only half awake. 'I just fell asleep.'

Martin said nothing, not a word about the blow job he'd received and apparently enjoyed the night before. He was pleasant enough, looking forward to baseball trades and wins we could effect in school and sales we could make in his neighborhood.

'When can you come here again?' he asked.

I told him I'd ask my mother. It was Thursday. A weekend was coming up. I wondered how Freddy would take it if I stayed at Martin's house Friday night and all day Saturday.

At our counseling session that afternoon, Father Simons, who was running out of things to discuss and preach over, asked me about selling baseball cards.

'We've got lots and some of the kids want to buy some. They cost us money.'

'You and Martin O'Malley.'

'Mmm hmm.'

'If I'm not mistaken, the bubble gum pack that contains the cards costs a penny.'

'Mmm hmm.'

'Then how do you justify selling one card for fifty cents.'

'Gees, Father. That was a Lou Gehrig. We had to trade a bunch of other cards to get it.' Actually, I'd won it.

He tried to explain usury to me. I already knew what it was from reading Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. I'm not sure he did.

'Father, usury is charging too high a interest on loans. What's that got to do with selling baseball cards?'

'You overcharged for the card.'

'Father, you just don't understand baseball cards.' I tried to explain to him the concepts of low, medium and high value cards. His remarks made it clear he either didn't understand or wasn't listening. I suspected the latter.

Probably realizing he was out of his water, he shifted to the homosexual theme.

'Okay, let's get back to you. We've talked about all the biblical admonitions regarding homosexual activities. Why do you think God wanted it mentioned so many times?'

'Because he was a fag?' popped into my head but I wasn't about to say it out loud. 'I don't know.'

'Because it was very important to Him. He understands the unhappiness that a person suffering with that disease has to go through and because He loves us, He wants us to get rid of those kinds of thoughts and desires. No one has to go through life as a homosexual. With prayer and counseling, that awful burden can be thrown off and you can lead a normal life as a husband and father. Isn't that the kind of life you really want? To be just like everyone else?'

I shook my head in disgust.

'Malcolm, you say you go to church every day.'

'Most days,' I interrupted.

'Most days. What do you pray for? Happiness?'

'I pray for my parents and for you to quit bothering me.' I had completely lost my respect for the man, hence most of my fear too.

'Malcolm, do you think I spend all this time with you just for the heck of it? Of course, I don't. I'm just trying to help you face your problem and let me help you be normal.'

'Like you?'

'Yes, Malcolm, like me. I…'

'You're sure not normal,' I muttered.

He stared at me briefly. For that moment, there was a strange, indecipherable expression on his face. My remark had connected somewhere. He regained control almost immediately.

'Malcolm, this is what so angers your father. You have got to learn to show respect to adults.'

'I'm sorry.' That came out without thinking. My mind was still trying to figure out what I had seen on his face seconds before.

'I want you to go the church and say a rosary in front of the Blessed Virgin. She can help you with this disrespect of yours.'

The session was less than fifteen minutes old and I was being dismissed. It usually went on for at least half an hour, sometimes a lot more. What happened'

I stayed in the church fiddling with my rosary beads long enough to have said a complete rosary then rushed off to tell Freddy what had just happened.

'I couldn't tell if he was mad or what. He just stared at me for a minute. Whatever it was, he didn't like what I said.'

'That's simple. You said the truth that he ain't, he isn't normal. None a them priests is normal. Who wanna be somethin' that won't never let him ever have a woman?'

We stared at each other and broke into wide grins.

'You think?' I asked.

'Shit, I dunno but, does he act like you?'

'I don't know how I act. Everybody else seems to know but me.' The how I acted business was becoming a great frustration.

'All right, I din't mean nothin' just askin' if he talks or acts like a girl?'

I thought about it. 'No. I don't think so. I gotta ask some of the kids in my class tomorrow.'

'You best be careful doin' that. You don' want him hearing you been saying stuff about him.'

That remark planted a seed I didn't recognize at the time.

In the sleeping bag, I brought up staying at Martin's Friday night. 'We made three dollars and thirty cents each in just about an hour on Wednesday. Saturday, I can make two times that so we'll have nine dollars to spend on our hideaway.' We were between Freddy's accustomed two orgasms.

'So what am I s'posed to do all day?'

I'd have loved to take him along but was fully aware that was not going to be acceptable to anyone, especially Martin's family. Black boys weren't permitted in the movie theaters, Benson's Soda Fountain where I bought our candy and drinks, or just about anywhere whites congregated. We were very limited in what we could do together. The older I got and the more experience I had outside those woods, the more I was excited by other possibilities. Unfortunately for Freddy, Martin had opened up a world that had never before existed for me. Nonetheless, had Freddy insisted I stay with him Saturday, I'd have agreed reluctantly but immediately. Freddy was more than a brother to me. He was my life. I really enjoyed being with him both as a playmate, sex partner and soul brother. He made me feel important, needed, loved. He was the one certain thing in my life, the person I felt I could most rely upon to care about and for me.

'Okay, but you better be here Sunday the minute I git home.'

I promised and started to think what I'd have to do to arrange to stay some nights with Freddy. Once my parents got used to me staying at Martin's, I could fake going there and come sleep at Freddy's.

Possibly because I told him I'd be going to Martin's for the night, Tommy Atkins suggested we hit the boiler room at recess.

As he undressed, Tommy said, 'That's twice at Martin's this week. Are you guys doing what we do?'

That was a difficult question to answer. The truth might get back to Martin. A lie found out would hurt my great relationship with Tommy. 'You can't ever say anything.'

'You know I'm never going to say anything. So you are?'

'Mmm hmm.'

'Same stuff?'

'Mmm hmm.'

'Too bad I can't have anybody over to my house.'

He'd never mentioned that before. 'Why not?'

Naked but for his socks, he climbed up on the newspaper stack. 'Just like I just promised you, you can't ever say anything.'

I lay between his thighs and kissed his tummy.

'My parents are always fighting. I had Bradley over a couple years ago and he got so scared he walked home at ten o'clock at night. Took him half an hour. You've got jerky parents too so you know what it's like.'

'You can come to my house if you want. My parents don't bother me in my room or outside or anywhere really. I've got a great big yard and there's woods and a big stream we can go to. Wanna?'

He thought it over.

'Well, wanna?'

'Sure. I was just thinking about one of your blow jobs on a bed. Sure but let me talk to my mother first.'

I started on his stomach before licking my way down to his balls and cock.

By the time he came, recess was almost over. I'd wanted to discuss Father Simons and Freddy's and my suspicions about him.

On our way down to eat lunch, Tommy motioned for me to go to the bathroom with him. He wasn't one for multiple sex on the same day or even during the same several days.

'Pat saw us go to the boiler room. I told him it was just to jerk off. Then he wants to know why I didn't ask him to come to. We do it a lot together. I just said I didn't think and I was sorry. Then he says he's seen us going off together a lot and wants to know what's really going on. He knows, you know, how you are. He wants to do it too.'

'You told him?'

'No, he just said that if you're doing something for me he wants it too, 'cause we're best friends and all.'

He waited for my reaction. I caught the unasked question.

'You're sure he isn't going to say anything?'

'Of course not. Pat's the best.'


'Now. He upstairs waiting.'

'You knew I'd say yes.'

'Of course.'

Pat was sitting against the wall where we had our sessions. He smiled sheepishly when we entered. Tommy closed and locked the door quietly. I sat beside Pat.

'What do you want to do?'

'Gees, whatever you guys do.'

'You gotta take off your clothes.'

He looked at Tommy who nodded his head.

Still smiling but a bit less, Pat asked, 'Whatta you guys do?'

'He sucks my dick but he likes me to be naked. You'll like it.'

Pat went for his shoes, then shirt and undershirt, showing off the creases in his thick tummy. Pat wasn't what you'd call fat, just rounded. But there was a lot of muscle under his thick flesh. He was probably the strongest kid in the class next to me. My almost daily exercises kept me ahead of all but Freddy. The problem was, as opposed to Pat, I wasn't very good at using my strength.

Pat leaned back and loosened his belt, opened and unzipped his pants and pulled them off at his feet. The point in his underwear told me he was ready. He leaned back again and pushed his briefs off. I'd never seen his cock hard. I knew it was fat from brief glimpses. His barely three inches was thicker than Tommy's but his balls were still half the size of marbles. The head of his cock sat like a fat mushroom at the end of his shaft.

'Lay along the wall,' I told him. He did. I spread his legs and crawled between them until my arms were over his thighs and my mouth breathing on his dick.

I opened his legs a bit more and sucked in his little ball sack balls. He lifted his knees. I licked his perineum from right above his rectum to the base of his cock.

Tommy sat by Pat's head and watched.

Pat pushed his cock down by my mouth. I relented and sucked it in slowly, nibbling down his shaft with my lips. Pat got up on his elbows. I ran my tongue around his shaft and sucked on his juicy cock head in the back of my mouth.

Tommy asked in a stage whisper, 'How's it feel?'

'Neat, real neat, great.'

I sucked him hard, right down to his balls, for the compliment.

Tommy said, 'I know. I really like this but he's always bugging me to fuck him.'

Pat replied, 'Gees, I'll fuck him. I'll fuck you, Malcolm.'

Pat's dick wasn't long enough to be all that great up my rear, but he was one I hadn't yet experienced. And that chunky oversized cock head might feel good pushing back and forth inside. I held up a hand and sucked a bit more on that thick shaft. It felt very good in my mouth.

With his dick still in my mouth, I lifted my middle up and opened my belt and pants. Tommy rushed around to pull them off by the cuffs then removed my underpants too. As he passed on his way back to where he'd been sitting, I reached up and felt his crotch. He was hard. Would he want the same' Were we going to have time to eat our lunch'

After leaving Pat's cock dripping with my saliva, I turned around and lay on my stomach with my rear poked into the air, my hands spreading the cheeks. Pat was on top of me in a flash. I had to get his point to my pucker. He rammed right in. The oversized cock head did feel great sliding up my rectum. He slid his body higher on mine and began fucking. He popped out a few times but gradually got himself lined up so when he came out, he was still at my door and could push right back in. That big cock head felt great each time it went in or out my anus.

Pat had big buns. The fucking must have been great to watch. It took him several minutes of hard but slow pumping to reach his orgasm.

'Oh, shit!' he said when he came. He collapsed on top of me. His throbbing went on longer than anyone I could remember, maybe because of his continued very slow, shallow pumping. Before I realized it, Tommy slid in front of me, bare from the waist down, his legs sliding along side of us until his crotch was in my face. He came very quickly, an excellent omen. Fucking turned him on.

Pat didn't pull out until Tommy stood up to dress. Before he did, he whispered in my ear, 'Thanks, Malcolm'.

We ate our lunch sitting against the wall, me in the middle. I told the two of them about my previous day's session with Father Simons and what Freddy and I thought about it.'

'Gees. You guys might be right. Who's Freddy?' asked Pat.

'He's a friend near my house.'

Pat continued. 'He's always talking about sex. And he sure likes to wear his robe all the time.'

'We wear a robe too when we serve mass,' commented Tommy. 'We gotta.'

'But he wears it almost all the time. When Father Lindenhal or the monsignor come up to speak to us, they wear pants, not Simons. I'll bet he is a homo. Uh, sorry, Malcolm, I?'

'Don't worry. Whatta you think he'd do if I told him I thought he was one?'

'Hah! He'd be pissed, real pissed, especially if he is one,' answered Tommy.

Freddy's seed sprouted. 'If I did, he'd be worried I'd say it to other people, wouldn't he?'

'I know what you're thinking,' said Tommy, 'and that's blackmail.'

'Nah. I'll just say I won't say anything if he doesn't or, lemme think, I won't bother him if he won't bother me, or something like that.'

'Gees!' said Pat enthusiastically, 'Do it. Make that creep shit himself. He deserves it.'

'You better think careful what you're gonna say,' admonished Tommy, 'You can get in a lot of trouble with something like that. What if he isn't?'

'He is. When I said he wasn't normal, he was scared. That's what it was. The son-of-a-bitch was scared. He's a homo just like me and that's why he wants me to say it.'

After school, with my mother's permission, which supposed paternal approval, I boarded the school bus with Martin. We'd won thirty-four baseball cards by playing with anyone available before and after school. Tommy and Pat had occupied me for recess and lunch.

 As we rode, Martin suggested, 'Let's go to the movies after lunch tomorrow, and then the skating rink. We'll have enough to do anything we want.'

We only sold two cards that afternoon. There weren't many kids around. Martin was sure there'd be plenty in the morning, with fresh allowance money to spend. We went to his house and watched Captain Video and Howdy Doody on his little round television picture tube. His little sister liked Howdy Doody but was angry about Captain Video. Beverly, his older sister, was in her room preparing for a date still an hour and a half away.

Dinner was fun. We had grilled cheese sandwiches and fresh fruit. Being Catholics, we couldn't eat meat that day. Martin's father already had a few beers in his belly and was funny. Beverly thought he was being silly when he walked around the table like a monkey and tickled Dickie but laughed along with the rest of us. I tried to think when my father had tickled me last but couldn't remember him ever doing it. I knew I'd never seen him drunk.

After dinner, we went to the ice cream parlor up the street from the grocery store. Three other boys were there along with an adult who didn't seem to be with them. I had to wait for them to turn around to recognize Spike under his winter cap. He was friendly.

'Hey, it's the rich kid. We need five more cents more for our cones. Loan it to us.'

Martin started to speak but I cut him off. 'Here, you can have it,' I said pushing a nickel out of the coins I'd pulled from my pocket.

'Thanks, kid,' said Spike with an even wider grin.

'My name is Malcolm.'

'Malcolm' I never knew anyone named Malcolm,' said Spike grinning at his friends, hoping for a reaction.

I smiled back and pushed along side of them to order our cones, doubles as opposed to their single scoops. I'd have happily bought a double for Spike. He was actually more handsome than Martin. And something told me he would really enjoy sex. The problems, though, were many. I had no idea how to get him alone, where we could do it, and whether or not he'd tell his friends which, of course, would probably affect Martin more than me. The five of us went into the alley behind the supermarket and sat against the wall. Talk was about school fights, unlikely stories about girls whom each had fucked, a fat boy whom Spike had beaten silly when he had bumped into him on the sidewalk and, finally, due to my guidance, baseball cards. One of the three, a skinny boy with squinty eyes, had won everyone's at school that afternoon. Spike wanted a rematch but had no cards. Martin offered to sell him some.

To Martin's chagrin, I offered to loan him five that he had to replace by Tuesday afternoon.

'Shit, I'll have 'em for you tomorrow afternoon. I know where he lives just three blocks from here. You wanna come?'


'No, stupid, in the morning. I'll meet you here at nine.'

Spike wanted me to come. Maybe I was the one who was going to play. Spike knew I was way better than him. Martin shrugged so I guessed we'd go.

Dickie was already fast asleep at the foot of the bed when Martin went upstairs to take our bath. The entire time in the tub, I debated whether to say or do anything but couldn't get any words out. I did offer to wash his back and ended up running my hands over his shoulders, under his arms and around to his chest and down to his stomach. At that point, he took the soap and, his back still to me, took over the job. I was dying to see if he was hard but there was no way short of getting out of the tub. I was hard as stone.

I asked him to wash my back. He did but just that, not going below the arch in my spine. I worried he was not going to let me have him in bed.

My concern was valid. He climbed in bed and lay on his stomach. I knew it wasn't an invitation for a rear entry. We wished each other good night. I let my hand lie on his shoulder. Five minutes later, he said barely audibly, 'okay', and turned over on his back. The little mountain over his crotch told me he was ready, horny.

My hand went to his tummy then slowly down inside his underpants to his erect cock. When I pushed his briefs down, he lifted his ass and let me get them down to his thighs. His body stiffened as I took him into my hot little mouth. Once again, I sucked in his balls and let my upper lip run down his perineum as far as possible. The third time I started down, he pushed up then continued to pump upwards in time to my sucking. Gradually, I stopped moving my head and he did all the work. Did I dare ask if he wanted to stick it up my rear? I considered that too long. He began pumping faster, his cock bloated and pulsed repeatedly. I held still and listened to his heavy breathing. When I started to lift off him, he yanked his hand out from under the covers and pushed me back down.

When he reduced the pressure on my head, it was to let himself begin pumping anew. I waited to be sure he really wanted to go again then replaced my mouth with a hand and stretched up toward his face.

'It's okay,' he said in a half whisper, 'do it some more.'

'If you want, you can fuck me. That's even better.'

I could sense him staring at me in the dark. 'In your ass?' There was a touch of enthusiasm mixed with potential giggle in his voice.

'Uh huh,' I whispered.

He sat up and looked down at Dickie sound asleep at the foot of the bed then got up and slid his underpants off his legs. I lay belly down as far up on the bed as possible. 'Let me get it wet first,' I whispered. He waddled up to my face and I wet him down with my saliva. He crawled back and straddled me on his knees. I pulled my cheeks open. In the dark, he couldn't find my hole so I guided his dick home. He rammed in and lowered himself on top of me. He pulled back and his cock came out. He lifted up and I inserted him again. He stayed up and pumped into me. I raised my ass as much as I could. Martin got into it, gripping my hips and banging away. The feeling was great even though he was just nicking my prostate. Several times he pulled back too far and I had to guide him back in. The strain of keeping my ass up with him knocking it back down was tiring. I dragged the pillow from under my head and pushed it doubled up under my crotch. He never stopped fucking me. My cock was now rubbing into the pillow with each of Martin's thrusts. I lifted off it to prolong the wonderful feeling. Freddie had never fucked me so hard. Martin was breathing in time to his thrusts. He had to be close. I put my hand around my cock. A few thrusts later, I felt my orgasm start from inside me where Martin's cock reached at the end of each drive. I came. My tightened sphincter did the trick for Martin. He jammed full inside me, his abdomen pressed against my buns, his dick pulsing. He fell forward on top of me his hands over the back of my head. He half slid out but pushed back in. His breath warmed the back of my neck. I felt very satisfied.

After a while, he slowly lifted off me and went into the bathroom. I followed him. He was looking over his cock like he was expecting to find something. It was clean as I knew it would be. He sat on the toilet seat.

'How come you like that, Malcolm?'

'I don't know. It feels good.'

He pursed his lips before his next question. Tentatively, he asked, 'Are you a fag?'

I knew it was coming. I didn't like the word. Homosexual seemed less negative, less demeaning. My answer was somewhat truthful. 'I don't know. Maybe.'

'I won't tell nobody.'

I sat on the edge of the tub. I could feel the slipperiness inside my ass cheeks. 'Really, I might be, I don't really know.'

'But you like girls' I mean, you done anything with any girls?'

'A couple times.'

'Really' What?'

'I fucked this one girl a couple years ago and again a few months ago but she was too big the second time.'

'Wow. How come you never told us about it before. Who was she?'

'You don't know her. She's a cousin or something of a kid I know. Please don't say anything.'

'Okay but the guys'd really like hearing about that instead of Bradley's bull. What do you like best, girls or boys?'

I knew the answer to that but wasn't sure whether I should answer it truthfully. Martin's expression was one of curiosity. There didn't seem to be any animosity or judgment. 'Boys.'

He leaned back. 'So you are a fag. I don't care and I ain't gonna say nothing. Let's go to bed.'

And that was the end of it. He slept on his back as usual and said nothing in the morning.

After a bowl of Corn Flakes and a glass of water, we went off to meet Spike. He was waiting. Martin and I had ninety-eight baseball cards between us including at least a dozen high values.

The skinny kid's house was an old clapboard duplex that hadn't been painted since before the War. It had no garage or driveway and no car was parked in front of it or any of the other neighboring digs. There were only patches of grass in the cluttered yard. No telephone lines went to either side of the house. Spike wanted Martin or me to knock.

'Hey, we don't even know the kid so you do it,' insisted Martin. 'You ain't afraid, are you?'

That worked. Spike walked up the dirt path to the porch, up the stairs to the door and knocked twice. From what I'd heard, this kid was nothing to be afraid of so why the timidity'

A man dressed in mechanics coveralls answered. After Spike spoke, the man turned and shouted, 'Stinky, some kid's here.'

Stinky was skinny all right but nearly a head taller than Spike. Spike nodded back at us as he spoke. I heard Stinky say 'minute' before he left the door, leaving it open to the cold air. He was back in seconds wearing a winter cap and pulling on a dirty coat. He had a fistful of baseball cards in his hand.

He walked to the gate and peered down at us. Tall as he was, I still guessed him to be no older than thirteen. 'My next victims, huh,' he said with his changing voice and a definite southern twang. Spike had told him he was to toss against us, as I'd figured he had planned to do.

We went up the street and around the corner where another clapboard house abutted the sidewalk. I noticed Stinky had dirt behind his ears.

'So who's first?' asked Stinky.

There was a slight advantage to going last as one could move an opponents card back with a rebound off the wall. But I felt cocky.

'Me,' I declared and stepped into the gutter for my first throw. The air was still so I figured to go low and slide my cards against the wall. I flipped a low value which raised up as it approached the wall and stayed a leaner, a very hard to beat toss but fairly easy to knock down.

Stinky moved in beside me. His nickname was deserved. He bent over and flipped his card hard at mine, knocking it off the wall but falling further away than mine. I collected the pair and went back for my second toss. This one slid in a quarter inch off the wall. Stinky's again came up short, another pair for me.

As I was about the make my next toss, he grabbed my arm and said, 'Lemme see.'

I let him take it out of my hand knowing he'd find nothing. He handed it back and I won another. On the fourth toss, mine was a full inch off the wall. Stinky bounced me out of the way when he stepped down to take his shot. He tossed his lightly but it caught air too soon and flipped back over, six inches short of mine.

Spike's confidence was soaring after seeing the school champ beaten so thoroughly. 'Lemme those five you promised,' he whispered into my ear. I peeled off five low values.

'My turn,' insisted Spike.

Stinky didn't seem to mind the change of opponent and proceeded to win four out of five, one with a leaner. Martin laughed at each of his losses. Spike was boiling.

'How come you played so bad against Malcolm and good against me?' He looked at me, suspicion in his eyes. 'You two know each'n other?'

I grinned. 'I don't even live around here.'

While Spike seethed, Stinky goaded me to play him again. 'You're jus' lucky is all. C'mon, boy, let's go agin.'

I obliged and took three out of four. Stinky became increasingly frustrated with each loss. I feared trouble but Stinky seemed angrier with himself than me.

'You're good, little boy. Nobody never beat me so bad. You wanna play?' he asked Martin.

'Nah, I'm just watching.' Martin knew he was outmatched by all three of us.

Stinky turned back to me. 'Wanna trade?'

Trading was where I really was good. But Stinky was no fool. I may have done better in the half hour of haggling but not by much. Spike traded his single low value for two low values so he probably felt a little better.

One of the reasons I didn't do better was not paying close attention and calculating value well. My mind was on the smooth backs of Stinky's hands, glimpses of his upper chest when he bent over and the lump that occasionally formed between his legs when he pulled up his beltless flannel pants. I wondered if he had any hair on his crotch. I wondered how I could get a peek. Was there a bathroom nearby where we could pee side by side' While he was doing a trade with Spike, I fantasized washing him in Martin's tub and wondered what his big dick would feel like inside my rear end. It was at that point that I noticed Martin watching me. He was smiling and shaking his head. He'd seen my eyes and knew what was on my mind.

'Where do you go to school?' Stinky asked me. His words came out like he was breathing them rather than using his voice.

I told him.

'Where's that?'

I told him.

'Private, huh' Rich kids.'

'Nyuh uh,' interjected Martin, 'I go there too and we ain't rich.'

'Shit,' said Spike angrily, 'your old man's just tight and gots all his money in banks.'

'Where you live?' Stinky asked Martin.

'Just up the hill,' I answered with wild hopes of getting him into that bathtub. 'Wanna see?'

Martin smirked.

'Nah, I got chores.'

'C'mon, let's go,' insisted Spike.

I left frustrated, not realzing how angry Spike was. Neither did Martin.

'You wanna do it with that dirtball' He whispered in my ear. 'He'd give you diseases all over.'

'I'd wash him first.'

'What'd you say?' asked Spike still angry. 'You say something about me?'

'Shit, Spike, nobody's talking about you,' answered Martin with a smirk.

There was no discussion until we reached the alley behind the supermarket.

'C'mere,' said Spike to us, 'I wanna show you something.'

He led us to an empty garage with a broken door and forced his way inside. I followed but Martin stayed outside.

'C'mere,' called out Spike, 'I ain't gonna do nothin'.'

Martin squeezed in.

'Fuck I ain't,' growled Spike as he punched Martin straight in his nose. Blood flowed. 'You think you can fuck with me and make me lose and I ain't gonna kick yer ass?' He kicked Martin in the side.

'Stop it, Spike!' I yelled.

He swung at me but I stepped back and he missed. Martin tackled him, taking him to the ground. Spike got an arm loose and elbowed him in the head, then punched him in the side of the face. Martin let go and fell to the littered concrete floor.

I backed off, terrified I was next. I had strength but no confidence in my ability to fight. I'd always figured Martin to be tough enough to handle any kid his size. Spike took him like he was a six year old. The door was closer to me than Spike but I couldn't bring myself to abandon Martin. I tried to talk to Spike.

'Here, you can have half my cards. Leave Martin alone.'

'Suck my dick,' he growled and sat on Martin's chest.

'Okay,' I answered.

Spike raised his hand to hit Martin then stopped and looked at me. 'What'd you say?'

'I said okay, I'll suck your dick. Just don't hurt Martin any more.'

Spike stared at me. It was too dark to read his expression. He didn't say a word for what seemed like minutes but was probably just a few seconds.

'C'mere, faggot' he ordered.

I walked along side him. Martin had dropped his arms. I couldn't see his face, which was in the shadow of Spike.

'You're gonna suck my dick?' Spike said, derision dripping off his words.


More silence then, 'Get on your knees, faggot.'

I dropped slowly to my knees. Spike stood and unzipped his fly. He leaned over and struggled with his limp penis, pulling it out by the head. 'You bite me or anything an' I'll kill your ass.'

'I won't.'

He twisted his body toward me, his feet staying planted on either side of Martin. His cock was larger than Martin's but soft. 'C'mon, suck it!'

I kneed forward and leaned close enough to take his penis in my mouth without touching him. It was completely limp. I moved his cock around in my mouth. It stayed soft. I looked up at him. He was looking down. He slapped me softly on the side of the head. 'C'mon.'

I sucked and kneaded the head of his cock. It began to grow. I moved in closer. Half his cock was inside his fly. I touched his belt, pulling gently on it. He knocked my hand away and undid his belt and buttons. His pants slid down to just below his crotch. I ran my lips to his groin. There was no pubic hair. His cock was much thicker than Martin's and an inch longer. He stopped me.

'Get over here, on top of him.'

He wanted me to straddle Martin as he was but stay on my knees. I was too afraid, and excited, not to obey. Spike stepped back a half a pace. I was over Martin's chest.

'Blow me.'

I took him back in. His cock was delicious. He probably hadn't bathed for a day or two. It was a little dirty from his hands and piss and sweat. He was very hard. He grabbed my head and pushed it back and forth while pumping into me. It hurt my lips when he squashed them between my teeth and his crotch. I pushed his hands away and said, as best I could with his dick still in my mouth, 'Let me do it.'

He did.

I worked back and forth, squeezing my tongue around him, trying to get him off as quickly as possible while hoping he'd last a while. I was curious about the size of his balls but was afraid to touch them. I realized my cock was hard and fondled it lightly with one hand. Spike put one hand on my head, guiding it more than forcing it. Martin lay absolutely still except for one hand that wrapped around my lower thigh.

Spike took a wonderfully long time to reach orgasm. When he was close, he put both hands back on my head and pounded into my face, again hurting my lips. Then he went 'mmmph' twice then 'ehhh' and held me tight to him as his cock pulsed. His knees buckled partially. They touched my middle. I could feel them tremble. A small squirt of sweet liquid went across the back of my tongue. That somewhat cleared up my curiosity about his balls. They were growing, probably a lot larger than Martin's.

Spike stood up and pulled his dick out of my mouth. 'You're better than Mary Alice. Now gimme them cards you said.'

I reached into my side pocket and handed him a stack of low values. Spike stepped over Martin, walked to the door and pushed his way out. I sat on Martin's chest then jumped up the moment I realized what I'd done.

Martin sat up feeling his nose. Blood was all over his lower face and coat.

'Shit!' he muttered.

I knelt beside him and sought in his eyes some sign of what he felt. He just stared at the door.

'You okay?' I asked.

'He's gotta pay. He's gonna pay.'

I stood and pulled on his arm to get him up. 'We gotta put ice on your face.'

'I can't go home like this. My parents'll get all upset and want to talk to Spike's parents and the whole neighborhood'll know Spike beat me up.'

   'But we gotta get ice or your face will swell up.'

Martin thought. 'They got ice in the supermarket. You can buy some in there.'

I rushed around to the front of the store and inside. Asking got me to a freezer where I had to buy ten pounds of cubes. Back in the garage, I held one cube to a bruise on the left side of Martin's face while he held another to the side of his nose. There was nothing to wipe his face with so I removed my shirt, took off my undershirt then redressed quickly when the cold made me shiver. With water from the melting ice on his face, I wiped away the blood. After scrubbing the few drops off his coat, I stuffed the damp T shirt into my coat pocket.

Martin hadn't said a word but I could see he was furious. Finally he said, 'We gotta get somebody to beat his head in worse'n he did me.'

I thought that was a good idea and waited for him to name someone we could convince to do it. Stinky came to mind. 'What about Stinky' Maybe we could give him some high values.'

'Cmon.' Martin led me out the door and down the three blocks to Stinky's poor neighborhood. On the way he said, 'Thanks for what you did. Most kids woulda run.'

Stinky was filling a battered metal trash can with debris from his small front yard.

'Who beat on you?' he asked when he saw Martin's face.

'Spike sucker punched me. We need somebody to beat him up to make him pay.'

'Well, I ain't gonna do it.'

'But you don't like him neither,' insisted Martin.

'I only know him from school. I know he's a creep but I ain't got no problems with him. You gotta get somebody hates him.'

'Everybody I know's afraid a him. We'll give you some high values if you do it.'

Stinky thought about it. 'How many, nah, I don' wanna. Get somebody from the school.'

Martin looked at me for a moment then moved against the wood fence and whispered to Stinky, 'Malcolm'll suck your dick.'

I straightened up in horror. Martin was telling a virtual stranger I was a homo. I gave him my dirtiest look though, gurgling up in the recesses of my mind, were hopes Stinky would agree.

Stinky looked sideways at me then started to grin, then he laughed. 'Shit, I thought fer a minute you was serious.'

Martin said seriously, 'I am. He's really good. You gonna do it?'

Stinky turned suspiciously toward me. I shrugged my shoulders.

'Shit,' he said, 'I thought there was something strange 'bout you. Shit. You really do that?'

I nodded shallowly, my eyes on the fence. I was beginning to feel anxious, desirous.

Stinky turned back to Martin. 'How many high values?'

Martin looked to me for an answer.

'Three, and ten low values,' I answered.

'An' you gonna suck my dick.'

'But you gotta beat up Spike good,' insisted Martin.

'He's gotta do me first. You can give me the cards after.'

Martin and Stinky were both looking at me.

There was a prerequisite. 'You gotta wash off first.'

'Shit, I'd take a bath right now but we ain't no hot water.'

'Martin's got hot water in his house, don't you Martin.' He had to participate too.

Martin shot me a nasty look.

'Other kids bathe in your house, like me and Willy.' Willy was the boy Dickie mentioned when the three of us were first in the tub.

'He's my cousin. That's different.'

'Then just say we're going to play and then you let Stinky take a bath 'cause, a, I don't know but for something.'

'You can tell yer folks we're doin' somethin' this afternoon an' I ain't

got no hot water an' we're friends. I can take clean clothes.'

Stinky sounded as enthusiastic as I felt.

'Shit! Okay.'

Martin's mother and Dickie weren't at home. His father was in the garage working on his car. We went upstairs quietly and Stinky stripped off his putrid clothing. His upper body was skinny, ribs there for the counting. His collar bones were almost like shoulder handles. But his skin was clear and smooth. His socks and feet really stunk up the room. Martin put the socks out on the window sill outside. Stinky laughed.

Finally he got his pants off. There was something large in his drawers. Then I saw it, swaying back and forth as he hopped on one foot. His penis was long and slim, just like him. Stinky saw where my eyes were aimed.

'Long, ain't it.'

It was uncircumcised like Freddy's. Stinky stretched it with his fingers. 'Gits a lot longer.'

Martin led him into the bathroom. His ass was skinny like his shoulders. His arms and legs were stringy but looked hard, strong. It took a while to fill the tub. Martin worried his father would hear and come see who was using it. He got undressed and had Stinky hide in the bedroom. It was all for nothing. I knew anyone could smell those feet the minute they reached the top of the stairs. Anyway, his father never came.

Stinky stepped into the tub and slid down until the water lapped at his chin. There was a look of deep satisfaction on his face.

'My water's never this hot.'

'If you want, I'll wash your back,' I volunteered anxiously.

Stinky shrugged his shoulders. 'Jus' wait a couple minutes.' He closed his eyes.

Several minutes later he stood. I already had the soap in my hand and started in on his boney shoulders. He was dirty. The suds turned instantly brown. It had to have been a week or more since his last bath. He raised his arms when I got to his underarms then lowered them when I started on his upper arm. He was going to let me bathe him all over. When I moved from his lower back to his ass, he said, 'I'll wash there but you can do the rest.'

He turned around. Close up I could see a slight tuft of brown hair was growing over his cock. I forced myself to wash his chest and stomach before touching that area. He got hard immediately, the head poking out of his foreskin. His cock was straight and pretty as a tulip, nearly five inches of almost manhood. His pinball sized balls were like velvet in my soapy hands. It took serious self control to leave the area for his legs but I did let it brush against my cheek as I washed his calves.

His feet temporarily dulled my horns. They were caked with what seemed bits of fibre but which melted away with heavy scrubbing. Even then, though, his uncut toe nails had dirt under them. I asked Martin for a brush but he didn't have one.

I worried that we'd have to fill the tub again to really rinse him off. Instead, we took cups of water and poured it over him until he was free of soap scum. His dick never got soft.

I dried him off. He wrapped the towel around himself with his cock pushing it well out in front of him.

In the bedroom, he said, 'Let's do it now.'

'What if my father comes up?'

'He ain't come up so far. He ain't comin'.' He lay back on the bed. I crawled between his legs and took hold of his magic wand. The head was smooth and slightly oval shaped. It felt like there was a genuine bone sticking up inside it. My mouth moved halfway down his shaft. I had to move my body forward to get over him to take in more. Soon, the head was in the back of my mouth just a hair from gagging me. I went slowly up and down.

Martin, still in his underwear, had his hand on his crotch. I knew he was hard. Maybe I'd be doing him again too.

'Put it all the way in,' said Stinky.

I pulled off him and answered, 'I can't. It's too long. I'll choke.' I went back to work.

After a few ups and downs, Stinky suggested, 'Let me fuck you then. You got plenty a room there.'

Stinky's cock wasn't as fat as Barney's from Camp McFarlane and I'd wanted to try it. Maybe it would be okay. And he was so long. That had to feel good. Once again, I lifted my mouth off his succulent cock.

'Okay, but you gotta go in real slow and stop when I say.'

Martin had pushed his hand inside his briefs and down to his crotch.

I quickly got undressed, taking off everything, even my socks. After dribbling saliva on Stinky's rod, I lay face down on the bed. Stinky got behind me and pulled me up onto my knees. I felt his cock head slip up and down my crack seeking entry. Then he was at my pucker, gently pushing, spreading. It started to hurt but I just grit my teeth hoping the pain would go away once he was inside.

The head poked inside. It hurt more. 'Wait,' I grunted. He held his ground. The pain eased a little but just that. I waved my right hand to go in a bit more. It was too much. I pulled off him.

'I know what it is,' he said a bit frantically, 'we need some grease or somethin'. Don't yer mother got some kind a oil or lard in the kitchen?' he asked Martin.

Martin had forgotten his father. He darted out of the room.

'Don' worry, Malcolm. With some grease, it won't hurt at all.'

I wasn't sure. Grease wouldn't make his cock any skinnier.

Martin was gone long enough for Stinky's cock to droop a bit. He brought a jar of bacon fat he'd found by the stove. There was liquid oil on the top. Stinky put some on his cock while Martin went for toilet papers to wipe up after. It smelled like Sunday morning.

Once again, Stinky got behind my raised rear and poked at my hole. It felt like he had a broom stick back there. It did hurt again but not nearly as much. He'd been right about the grease. He pushed in very slowly. I felt him reach and pass my prostate, mixing pleasure with pain. Gradually, the pain lessened and the pleasure at having something so long and slick up my ass increased. I felt Stinky's abdomen touch my buns. He was all the way in. He inched forward with his knees and gripped my hips much as had Martin the night before. He withdrew about half his cock and pushed slowly back inside. It was wonderful. I didn't dare touch my stiff cock for fear of setting off an immediate orgasm.

Martin dropped to his knees beside the bed and stared at the point of action. He was definitely going to want a go.

Stinky began fucking, making nearly full withdrawals and penetrations. I arched my back to see if he could go in even deeper. He pulled hard on my hips with each thrust.

Martin stood, pushed off his underpants and sat on the bed near my head. 'Suck me, Malcolm, please.'

He didn't wait for an answer but crawled up in front of me, his back to the bedboard, his cock under my face. It was the first time I'd actually seen his cock totally hard. He was bigger than me by half an inch at least. I went down on him. He pushed up.

There I was penetrated at both ends and absolutely loving it. As Stinky inserted his prong completely inside, I lapped at Martin's balls, his cock full in my mouth. Martin put one hand on my head and pumped. I clamped my lips on his rod. Stinky built up a little more steam, a little more speed, moving my body back and forth, my mouth back and forth on Martin. I was weightless, held up by boy cocks, my whole body feeling like it was sliding back and forth on one great, long penis. Orgasm would run from my toenails to my hair follicles. I was so close.

Stinky slowed down, probably staving off orgasm to enjoy my innards longer. Martin was out of control. He pumped into my mouth. He dropped his hand from my head to the bed and lifted completely off the covers, thrusting into my mouth. I felt him bloat. Stinky resumed speed. Martin pulsed. His body bounced up and down. I looked up. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth partially open, lips drawn up tightly against his teeth. Stinky banged in, almost knocking me off Martin who grabbed frantically at my head to keep himself inside my mouth. 

I could hear Stinky breathing through his nose. I reached back between my legs to feel the cock going in and out of me. I let his hairless balls and perineum slide between my fingers with each thrust. He was slick with sweat and oil. I sucked in Martin's balls and ran my tongue down his perineum. He pushed up, allowing me closer to his asshole. Stinky changed his angle of attack and pumped more upward, lifting me slightly off my knees with each thrust. Martin tugged his knees up, trying to get me even closer to his hole. I let his cock pop out of my mouth. He moved high enough that my tongue was on his pucker. There was little taste, just a slight smell of poop. Martin dropped down, turned quickly and poked his ass in my face. I went for it immediately. My tongue pushed at his opening. Stinky banged me into Martin. I couldn't tell if he was watching us but assumed he was. What did he think of this'

Martin's hole relaxed. When Stinky rammed in again, my tongue poked inside. Stinky was withdrawing slowly, then reinserting faster the deeper he got, ramming hard at the finish. His fingers dug into my hips each time. It was hard to concentrate on Martin's hole with the pleasure bursting inside my rectum with each of Stinky's thrusts.

Stinky's angle changed gradually again. It felt as if he was rising with each penetration. I could feel his cock pressing harder against my prostate each time it passed by. Then he stopped, fully inserted. I felt the throbbing of his orgasm and imagined his milk flooding inside me. He pulled halfway out and pushed back in once, twice, three times, then leaned over, his hand sliding around my stomach and holding him against me. I reached for my cock. Three rubs and I got off. The orgasm was so forceful my mouth bounced up Martin's rump, off his hole. He reached back to push my head back where it had been but I was too exhausted and began falling forward under the weight of Stinky. I realized I was breathing as hard as the thirteen year old.

Martin was frustrated. He wanted to fuck me badly. Stinky facilitated it by sitting under my crotch to raise my ass. His cock poked up between my legs, right below where Martin was to enter.  Stinky spread lubricant from his cock onto Martin's and my friend pushed right in. I didn't feel much but it was nice to have him there. He fucked hard and fast, first up on his arms, then lying prone on top of me, then back up. I could feel Stinky's still hard cock sliding back and forth between my thighs and against my perineum. It felt nicer than the fucking I was receiving. It took Martin quite a while but he finally climaxed. He plunged in and held himself there.

'Shit,' said Stinky, 'don't stop yet. Keep goin'.'

'I can't it tickles too much.'

'Shit, then let me up there.'

Stinky pushed Martin off, struggled out from under me and lay on my back, his dick seeking my hole for re-entry. I was too tired to be concerned. He slid back inside with no discomfort and began a slow rhythmic fucking. He inched forward and slipped his hands under my shoulders. It wasn't as exciting as before but it was very comfortable, like feeling ice cream going down but from the other end. I pushed my hand under myself to wrap around my very hard cock. Stinky kissed my temple. I turned my head and kissed his jaw. He turned his face away and pulled on my shoulders with each thrust. I was disappointed but enjoyed what I had.

It took him quite a while, probably more than ten minutes, but he didn't rush it. He just slid in and out slowly, lying flush on top of me, his head hanging over my shoulder. It was actually quite nice. When I felt him tense up and grip me harder, I knew he was close so I gripped my own penis more firmly and let his thrusting work it back and forth in my hand. I came just before him, my pulsing sphincter probably igniting his fuse. Once again he quietly pumped his juice into me. My next shit was going to shoot out of me like a ballistic missile.

Stinky and I washed up in the bathroom, walking both ways across the hall boldly stark naked. We'd have had no explanation had Martin's father walked up the stairs. Martin lay exhausted on the bed.

Getting the bacon smell off Stinky's dick took three washings with hot water. I sat on the edge of the tub and washed out my rear twice. Martin realized his need to get rid of the bacon odor and joined us.

Martin had to remind Stinky what was supposed to come next: Spike.

'Can't we do it tomorrow. I don't feel like fighting nobody right now.'

Just like Georgie, sex had totally relaxed him, taken out all the aggression. We felt the same way. Martin said okay. We asked permission of Martin's father for Stinky, now in clean, sweet smelling clothes, to eat a late lunch with us. It was one fifteen. He said 'fine' apparently nearly as deep into what he was doing as we had been fifteen minutes earlier. He didn't notice Martin's lumpy face.

We fried eggs and ate more Corn Flakes. At two we were back on the street headed for the ice cream store. I had almost eight dollars in my pocket and offered to buy. Three girls came in while we ate our cones near the plate glass window. I heard one called Mary Alice. Was she the one who didn't suck as well as me' She was about twelve with small tits and long hair over a rather homely face. I tried to imagine her on her knees sucking on Spike's fat cock.

I asked my friends, 'Is that the Mary Alice that blows Spike?'

Stinky answered, 'That's the Mary Alice who blows anybody she can.'

'Do boys fuck her too?'

'Nyah unh, you can lick her out but she's still a virgin there. That other girl in the middle, that's Louise. A couple kids said they fucked her but I don't know.'

The girl in the middle was a bit older, at least physically. Her breasts were more developed and she was slightly taller. She must have sensed she was being discussed. She looked over at each of us individually, smiled at Martin then turned her attention back to her friends. Girls didn't have penises so I wasn't particularly interested in sex with them, just curious.

Martin, who had just gotten off twice with me, asked Stinky, 'Think one of 'em would come back to the garage and do me?'

'I don' know. Louise smiled at you. Go talk to her.'

'Unh uh. You know her. You talk to her.'

'Nyah unh. Them girls don' like me. You gotta do it. Just go say somethin'.'

Martin looked at me. 'You're a better talker than me. Why don't you go say something.'

'Like what?'

'I don' know. Tell Louise I think she's pretty, or, better, Mary Alice. Shit! Tell 'em all I think they're, shit. I don't know. Say something so they'll come over here.'

I didn't want anything to do with it but was just curious enough that a nudge from Martin sent me their way. I was still trying to figure out what to say when I got to their table.

Hands in my pockets, I just stood there with a half smile. They looked back, amused.

'A, hi. I'm Malcolm and that's Martin and Stinky and ...'

'We know Stinky, yeeuch,' interrupted the third girl, a pleasant looking slim, flat chested brunette about eleven.

Silence followed as I searched for a follow up. They continued to stare at me, amusement at my discomfort growing on their faces.

'Well, Martin, he goes to school with me and lives back there a block, well, he, uh, just wants to know if you want some ice cream.' I knew it was stupid as I was saying it.

'We got ice cream,' said Louise.

 'Well, I mean, if you want to eat your ice cream with us.'

'That's okay but you can come over here,' replied Louise. 'We got chairs.'

Sensing the out, I scurried back to my friends and relayed the conversation even though they'd heard it all being only about eight feet away.

The three of us walked to the table, dragging chairs from the other table nearby. Stinky sat behind Martin. I guessed he knew that even though he'd just bathed, his shoes still stunk. I felt sorry for him.

No one said anything. We boys smiled. The girls appeared to enjoy our unease. Finally Louise, looking at Martin, said, 'I'm Louise. This is Sandra and this is Mary Alice.'

More silence followed then Martin sat up, cleared his throat and said, 'uh, well, this is Malcolm and he's Stinky, and I'm Martin.' He spoke as he did when stumbling over an English assignment in class.

I had an urge to say 'Martin wants a blowjob' but didn't.

Louise broke the silence. 'How's your ice cream?'

Martin looked at the cone dripping chocolate all over his hand and answered, 'good.' He quickly licked himself. Mary Alice handed him a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table. He said, 'Thanks.'

We discussed which flavors were best, which were more favored by girls and boys, by little kids and big kids, and melted faster. Neither Mary Alice nor Stinky said a word. I said too much. The girls' bored expressions shut me up each time. Martin seemed most interested in Sandra. I admit she was the only one who interested me but that was probably because she still had the body of a boy, well, minus a penis.

Then Stinky said, 'I gotta go home and finish my chores.'

The girls reacted as though an end of class bell had just sounded. All three stood up. 'Yeh, we gotta go too,' said Louise. 'Nice meeting you.'

Martin said the same directly to Sandra. Mary Alice looked miffed. Louise rolled her eyes and pulled Sandra by the arm toward the door. I said bye individually to each and got three similar replies. Stinky just stood there, towering over the rest of us, with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

Martin was pissed at Stinky. The moment the girls went out of past the window outside, he turned to Stinky and said, 'Why'd you say that. I was trying to get somewhere.'

'Like I said, I gotta finish my chores or my pa'll kick my ass.'

Martin sighed and asked him, 'Anybody fucked Sandra?'

'I dunno.'

'You ain't heard nothing about her?'

Stinky shook his head.

'See, and now I'm all horny again.' He looked at me.

'I gotta go home soon.'

He leaned in and spoke quietly, 'Just blow me. We can do it in the garage. Please.'

Stinky thought it over and figured he had a little time too. In the garage, I asked, 'And what about me' Who's going to do me?'

Martin and Stinky shrugged their shoulders.

'Well, that's not fair. Everybody gets off but me and I do all the work.'

Stinky said, 'okay, I'll jerk ya off.'

I knew that was the best I was going to get so I sucked Martin first. He dropped his drawers to mid thigh and I knelt on a piece of cardboard. Since his coat was already plenty dirty, Stinky let me lay on top of him. He just opened his pants. His cock was way too long for me to get it all the way in like I did Martin so lowering his pants any more wouldn't have been of help.

My cock was right along side his chin. I wondered if Martin hadn't been there if Stinky might have put it in his mouth. It took me a while, sucking hard and moving my head around to get Stinky to orgasm. His sperm wasn't what I'd call tasty but it was better than Douglas'. I couldn't reach orgasm and went home very frustrated.

Mother was bubbly when I arrived, wanting to know about the fun things I'd done with my school friend. I had to put her off while I rushed upstairs to take a dump. It came out very easily along with some goo.

Back downstairs, I told mother about tossing and trading baseball cards and meeting some girls. I knew she'd like that.

'How old were they?' 'Where did they study?' 'Did you meet their families?'

Maybe I gave her hope that her son wasn't a faggot.

I squeezed my hole and tried to remember what Stinky's felt like inside me. Any doubts that I was a fairy had dissipated with that long dick up my ass. That had been the thought train that occupied my mind on the trolley, then the streetcar home. I really wasn't interested in girls sexually. I was interested in boys sexually. The girl I found moderately attractive was the boyish Sandra. I had enjoyed the conversation, perhaps a bit too much from the girl's bored reactions. I wasn't into sports. I kept my room clean and fairly orderly. Martin was all male, into sports and not taking care of his bedroom. But mostly, I really, really loved getting fucked. I was a queer faggot homosexual and, like it or not, would be the rest of my life.

Except with Father Simons, my father, my mother, the nuns, etc.

Sunday, after Mass and breakfast, I stuffed a blanket from my closet into my Cub Scout backpack and skipped out the back of the house. Mother watched me from the living room window. It didn't look like I was going to be followed.

Stewart was waiting in front of his house. We headed down the tracks.

'What happened with you and Stevie' He says you were kinda sad when you left, like he said somethin' or did somethin' wrong.'

'No, I was okay.'

'He said you're gonna tell me when you guys are gonna see each other again.'

'I dunno yet.' I had no idea how Stewart felt about Negroes. It was safe to assume he had heard about what happened to Freddy and me at the hands of the Cole brothers. I sought a way to get a sense of his racial attitude.

'I heard they were going to let Negroes in your school.' It was all I could come up with and was aware it would start rumors flying if Stewart mentioned it.

'Where'd you hear that?'

'I don't remember, maybe at school.'

'That's bullshit. They'd git killed. We got some right nasty boys in our school don't like niggers fer nothin'.'

'Whatta you think about them?'

'I don't know none but they sound kinda lazy and worthless to me. They say they steal a lot but so do a lot a the kids aroun' here.'

'I know some and they seem like nice people. We had a Negro maid for a while and she was great.'

'Well, like I said, I don't know none so I don' know.'

'You hear about the Coles breaking that Negro boy's arm last summer?'

'Yeh, he was with some white kid. They beat him up too fer being with the nigger. Hadn't been for Father Lindenhal, the nigger would a died.'

I waited for his feelings about the attack but he didn't go any further. They would need to be extracted. 'You think that was right, what they did?'

'I dunno. Them two was stupid to come down aroun' here but they din't have to break the kid's arm off.'

'What would you do if you saw a Negro around where you live?'

'I'd tell him to git his ass away before somebody like the Coles sees him.'

'You wouldn't try to hurt him?'

'Long's he didn't do nothin' to me.'

'Whatta you think of white kids and Negroes playing together?'

'Why you askin' me all this Malcolm?' he asked with a curious smile. He seemed in a good humor.

'Just that I know some Negro kids and I like them. I don't understand why the kids around your way wanna beat them up.'

'That's simple. They hate niggers.'


'Hell, I don' know. Their fathers hate niggers so I suppose that's why they do too.'

We walked in silence to the bridge and climbed down the embankment to the side of the stream. Stewart was very pensive.

As we laid out the blanket, he asked, 'You ever do any a this with a nigger?'

That was a question I was afraid to answer. If I said yes, he might not want to do anything. If I said no, I was denying Freddy.


'They got big dicks like they say?'

I was relieved by his response and the calm attitude he displayed asking.

'No, I think they're about the same as everybody else.'

The sun shone directly down on us. With almost no wind, we stripped to just our shirts and lay on the blanket. Stewart was hard as stone but, otherwise, didn't seem anxious to start. I ran my fingers over his shaft and down to his balls.

He asked, 'They fuck you too?'

'Mmm hmm.'

'How was it' I mean, they do it more or different?'

'No. Just the same as everybody else.'

He nudged my head down toward his groin. A breeze blew across us so we moved to one side of the blanket and pulled the other on top of us.

I sucked him slowly for a while until he asked to fuck me. I happily obliged. I arched my ass up and he pushed straight in, poking my sweet spot immediately. He lay on top of me and pumped slowly.

'Malcolm, who does it better, them or us?'

'Stewart, it's the same. Each kid does it a little different is all.'

'How about me' How good am I?' he asked directly into my ear.

'You're really good. I like doing it with you, a lot.'

That ended the verbal part of our tryst until he came.

'I'm gonna cum. Here I come.'

He throbbed. I reached under and throbbed myself after a few pulls. He did fuck nicely.

As I walked from Stewart's house to Freddy's, I examined the effects the previous week's sex could have on my relationship with Freddy. There was a nagging feeling of guilt at having so enjoyed other boys' bodies. Bigger dicks like Stewart's and especially Stinky's wonderfully long cock had opened up my eyes to a whole new world I wanted to explore, enjoy. Nothing was going to be the same. I loved Freddy so sex with him, a linchpin in my life, would still be satisfying but I knew I'd have to get back to Martin's neighborhood as soon and as often as possible. Then again, there was Douglas. Maybe I could get his fat cock inside me, but he had Brenda to satisfy him.

Freddy was particularly affectionate in our grungy sleeping bag. That just increased my feeling of guilt. He didn't kiss or anything. He embraced and fucked slowly, lovingly. I turned over for the second go around so he could do it from the front and we could embrace each other. What worried me was his not mentioning there had been another dick inside me before his. He'd always known before.

There was the difference between sex with Freddy and the others. Freddy genuinely cared for me. We were closer than brothers. Other than when I went away to camp and other rare occasions, we had been together every day for years and several days a week the last couple. I wouldn't call us lovers as Freddy was definitely all boy. There were things, like kissing, he wouldn't do. He did let me fuck him once but that had been an experiment on his part. A good bit of our sex was done out of a very close friendship rather than any erotic enjoyment he got out of it.

Freddy and I could talk for hours about the most inane things. We spent one Sunday afternoon discussing why water curled so gracefully around the rocks in our stream. However, that Sunday, Freddy wanted to know, 'So what'd you do with them white boys?' I assumed he was talking about the ones in Martin's neighborhood.

I wasn't about to admit all the sex that had taken place. 'We tossed baseball cards, traded them.' I told him about Spike including him beating up Martin but didn't tell him how I stopped the foray.

Freddy was silent for a few moments, pensive. 'Any negroes live over there?'

'I didn't see any. Why?' Now I was being insecure.

'Naw, nothin'. Jus' wonderin'.'

'I'll ask when I go back next time.'

Freddy looked up from the stick he was twiddling. 'When you goin' back?'

'I don't know. When Martin asks me, I guess.'

Freddy had me tell him the whole story about Spike again. I brought up the stories of Spike and Mary Alice and about meeting the girls and how that went. He was very curious about anything I could tell him regarding Mary Alice and her blow jobs.

Then he admitted, 'You the onliest one I ever had sex with, Maacom. I'd really like to see what it's like with a girl. They's one where I live, you know her, Tillie, but her daddy'd kill me sure if I even talked to her 'bout it.' Tillie was about eleven, a year younger than Freddy, and skinny as a pencil. She was hardly shy, talking up a storm to me any time I was around about everything from insects she'd found while cleaning up the kitchen to noises she heard from her parents' bedroom every once in a while. She knew what was going on but could never seem to say more than they were having 'fun'. I don't know if she ever mentioned that to Freddy.

At school the next morning, I asked Martin if Stinky had gone after Spike as promised.

'Shit, I didn't see him until nighttime. He said he had to go somewhere with his father. Says he'll do it in school today. Says next time I see Spike he'll have a black eye.'

Martin had a story explaining his bruises all prepared for his classmates. 'I fell off my bike.'

'Bullshit,' said Paul, who was always ready to throw unbelievable tales back at the teller. 'Somebody kicked your butt. Bet it was some public school kid.'

I was impressed with Paul's instinct for the truth.

'Naw,' answered Martin, 'for real, I fell off my bike.'

'Yeh,' retorted Paul, 'right into some kid's fist.'

'Shut up, Paul. Tell 'em, Malcolm.'

My mind was occupied trying to recall if Martin had a working bicycle. 'Huh?'

He asked again.

I was instantly creative. 'Yeh, fell right over a fence. Banged his face up good.'

Paul gave me a dirty look but said nothing more.

Tommy Atkins was quietly watching us as we spoke, probably, I figured, trying to guess if Martin and I had done more than sleep in his bed. I thought about how much I'd tell him when he asked, as he most assuredly would.

As we walked up the stairs to the classroom after the bell rang, he asked if I wanted to have lunch with him. By recess, I was horny.

'But, Malcolm, Sister's in the room now.'

'I know how to get in the boiler room, c'mon.'

I lifted and yanked. The door swung open. He stripped off his pants and sat on top of the stack of newspapers, his back against the wall. I lay over the stack and took his cock into my mouth. It was difficult to manipulate his body like that.

'Lie flat, Tommy,' I requested.

I don't think he heard me.

'You suck Martin again?'

I pulled his legs and flattened him out. 'None of your business.'

'C'mon, Malcolm, you know I won't say anything.'

'I already told you I did so whatta you think?'

'Well, knowing you, I figure you did. What I really want to know is if you did more than that.'

'That's definitely none of your business.' I ran my hands and tongue over his chest and belly. That shut him up.

Before getting back to his cock again, I sucked in his balls and licked his perineum, which was, with his legs hanging over my shoulders, considerably more available than ever before. I let my tongue dip lower and lower until it was touching his rosebud. He squeezed his legs shut around my neck forcing me back up.

I sucked him to fruition. He dug his heels into my back as he came.

'Where'd you learn to do that stuff?' he asked as he dressed.

'I taught myself.'

'Yeh, and who showed you how to open the door' I didn't even know that.'

'Another secret I'll never tell.'

We got back onto the plaza without anyone noticing us. We still ate lunch together but down by the stream behind the school. We talked about how the water carved away the dirt and rounded stones.

I asked him, 'You're friends with Victor. He ever do any sex with the girl's?'

'Aha! You won't tell me about you and Martin but you want me to tell you sexy things about Victor. Trade?'

I didn't want to tell. 'You don't know anything.'

'I might. You wanna suck him too, don't cha.'

'I might.'

'One condition.'

'I'm not gonna tell.'

'You tell me what you do with Victor.' He grinned broadly.

'Tsk. You don't know anything.'

'I know he's horny most of the time.'


'You gonna tell me everything you do with him?'

'Okay. How?'

'You know he always jerks off in the cubicles by the pool. Well, he does it in the bathroom, up behind the grotto. I caught him in the storage room in the gym once. And he's after Judy Barnes, maybe even got her.'

'How do you know that?'

'He told me.'

'And you didn't say anything to Bradley or Pat or Martin?'

'Nope. I can keep a secret.'

I laughed. 'You just told me.'

'You're different.'

'What's that got to do with it?'

'Bradley or Pat or Martin never sucked my dick. I know I can trust you and now you know you can trust me.'


'You wanna suck Victor' Ask him. He won't say anything.'

I stared into his smiling eyes. He acted like he wanted me to make it with Victor. That meant he didn't feel he had an exclusive claim on my lips. That meant our friendship was solid. I wanted to hug him, but knew better. Tommy Atkins, who I had admired and desired from afar for years was my friend.

He asked me if I was still planning to confront Father Simons.

'I dunno. I'm so tired of having to listen to his crap. Maybe.'

'Just be careful. Want me to come with you?'

'Oh, yes, will you.'

'That's why he thinks you're a homo.' He was smiling again.


'The way you said 'Oh yes, will you?' He sounded very girlish when he quoted me.

'I don't sound like that. Do I?'

He assured me I did.

I really did wish I could get rid of those stupid sessions with Father Simons. They'd been going on for three months and going over the same tired ground again and again. I needed to understand my father, he said. My father's restrictions were for my own good and development. I needed to admit my homosexuality so I could start on the path to normality.

I felt disgusted with his religious babble and self righteousness. He wasn't trying to help me, just make himself a big deal in my father's eyes and probably his superiors. I had no doubt what he was doing had absolutely nothing to do with helping me. I was just a convenient tool.

That afternoon, I asked him when the sessions would end.

'Malcolm, we are just beginning. You have yet to join me in my effort to help you.'

'Help me do what' I'm one of the two top students in my class. I have lots of great friends. I do chores all the time at my house. I never get into trouble. What are you supposed to help me with?'

'The terrible unhappiness you feel inside because you are different. I want to '.'

'I am NOT unhappy inside! The biggest problem I have in my life right now is having to waste two afternoons a week with you.'

I so wanted to just get up and walk out but knew that would be used against me.

'Malcolm, you say you go to church every day,'

'Most days.'

'All right, most days. You say you go to church most days and pray. What are you really praying for'

'Lots of things but mostly not to have to come here.'

'You don't ask God for happiness?'

'Not really. I ask Him to help keep me doing what I'm doing and help my father be a better father.' I liked the way that sounded.

'You never ask God to make you normal?'

'Do you?'

He didn't like that but tried to hide his displeasure. Had I hit on something'

'Malcolm, I'm not the one swinging my wrist around like a girl and talking like a girl.'

'No, but you're not married, you wear a dress and you bother little boys.'

That caught him, me too. It hit me that all the faggots in the world weren't like me. Lenny Baldwin, my YMCA counselor who sucked my dick was very manly. Master Washburn at McFarlane master hadn't been at all effeminate.

Father Simons recovered quickly. 'Malcolm, you are trying to make it like the whole world is like you. That way, you can be normal. Well, the whole world isn't like you.'

'You either,' I interrupted. My head was tossing around ideas like a circus juggler with half a dozen balls. Did I dare go on the attack. My remarks had hurt him. I stood up and walked across his office, trying to organize an assault that would free me from this man.

'Malcolm, please sit down.'

I paced back across the office. He had to know what I was thinking, had to be concerned about it. Freddy had said it when he talked about priests being strange for not getting married. I didn't believe the married to Christ crap any more than he did.

'You think you know me,' I said with an angry edge to my voice, 'well, I know you, too.' I was trying to figure out how to say he was hiding a hard dick under his robe without putting it so bluntly but there was no way.

'I'll bet you get a hard on when you talk to us about sex, don't you?'

'Malcolm, you may not speak to a priest...'

'You've been calling me a liar for three months. Now I know you're the liar. I'm going home and I'm not coming back. You don't say anything, I won't say anything.' It was the line I hadn't been able to come up with until that moment. His worried expression helped me feel I'd said the right thing.

I grabbed my jacket and walked out the door, more terrified with each step at what I'd said and done to a priest, a man of great power in my little world. My trembling legs barely got me outside. I went straight into the church and sat in the first pew I got to. I had blackmailed a priest. If I was wrong, this was really going to cost me. It might even if I was right. Doubt crept in like a madman with a long dagger. My whole body trembled. I had to be right. Everyone I discussed it with felt the same, that the man was a queer. But what if we were all wrong? I needed Freddy badly but didn't dare go near him. I needed to stay where I was until I was calm then go straight home. There was a strong possibility that Father Simons was on the phone that very minute with my father. I'd have given up a month of sex to hear what they were talking about.

I felt someone touch me. It was Tommy. I'd been so absorbed in my worries that I hadn't sensed him sit beside me.

'What happened?' he whispered.

'I did it.'

'You told him he was a fag?'

'Uh huh.'

'Oh crap! What'd he say?'

'Nothing. That I want everybody to be like me was all.'

'Whatta you think he's gonna do?'

'Jesus, how should I know?' I'd never used Jesus' name like that before, much less in a church. That worried me too, but felt good rolling off my tongue.

'You cold?'

 'No, scared.'

Tommy put his arm around my shoulders, calming me almost instantly. I relaxed against him.

Mother wasn't there when I arrived home. Adelaide said she'd be home for dinner. I could have gone to see Freddy. Adelaide wouldn't snitch so long as she wouldn't get into any trouble if she didn't. It was four fifteen. I trotted down the yard, up the street and down the dirt path to Freddy's.

We walked down the path by the stream while I told him what had happened and my concern that we might have been wrong about the priest.

'You right but you mighta got yo'self in some real bad trouble talkin' ta him like that. I hope you right.' Freddy was worried as I was. He'd slipped back into his old grammar.

We huddled on a rock by the stream and considered what might happen.

'Course,' he said finally, 'that motherfucker might just relize you got his ass and don' say nothin'.'

That's what I hoped. If it went bad that night, I promised to come to his house at midnight or before.

Whatever happened, I had good friends to turn to for comfort.

My father came home ten minutes before my mother, picked the evening newspaper off the hall mantle and went into the living room. When mother joined him, I sneaked down the front stairs and tried to listen. They seemed to be discussing a repair my mother's car needed. My name didn't come up.

Nor was there a mention of Father Simon's name at dinner. The only words my father addressed to me concerned putting my napkin in my lap.

Had I won?

Tuesday went by normally. Tommy and Pat took me to the creek behind the school to eat our lunch. They figured that if nothing happened when I didn't go to the counseling session Thursday, I was off the hook. I spent the after school hours with Freddy who felt I may have won but wasn't sure. Again, there was no mention of Father Simons at dinner.

Wednesday at recess, Tommy asked me if I'd approached Victor. I told him my mind was definitely not on sex. Tommy, Pat and I huddled on one side of the sports field. Martin and Bradley joined us.

Pat said, 'Don't worry, you were right. I sure hope you're right.'

He figured as Freddy and I that if he hadn't called my father yet, he either wouldn't or I'd get a chance to straighten things out at the next day's session.

Bradley wanted to know what we were talking about.

'Just some crap with Father Simons.'

'That creep. I can't stand him. Always so holy. I quit serving up here 'cause a him. Now I just do it at my church. We've got some neat priests. Both of them are like Lindenhal.'

That made me jealous.

I cleaned up the area around the barn then made sure the driveway and the hedges near it were free of trash. At dinner, my father pulled a letter out of his pocket.

'Father Simons says he can't see you any more because of work he's got to do for the diocese. You don't have to go tomorrow. I'll have to think about how to use that free time.'

If I'd have been wax, I'd have melted all over my chair. The relief quickly gave way to a desire to celebrate. My father broke into my reverie.

'You look like you're sad you don't have to go anymore. Were you two getting somewhere?'

'Tsk, no.'

'Then maybe we'll have to find someone else. But meanwhile, let's see what productive use we can make of your two free afternoons.'

'I keep the whole place clean just working Wednesdays and Saturday mornings and I never forget the trash. I wanna go play with my friends those days.'

'Which friends?'

'I can go to Martin's and play with Freddy, go see other kid's from my school, they can come here, like that.' I tried to fit in Freddy as inconspicuously as possible.'

'We'll see.'

When I told Tommy the next day, he wanted to tell everybody and celebrate.

'We can't. Remember, I told him if he didn't say anything, I wouldn't either.'

Pat joined us in the boiler room for recess. He tried to screw me while I leaned over and sucked Tommy. He'd get the head in but couldn't fuck. Finally, he found a folding chair which, when lying flat raised him just enough. His passionate, hard thrusting excited Tommy who came quickly. It excited me too. He was hitting close enough to my prostate and massaging my rectum so well I came without touching my self. Once again, his orgasm was longer than two of Tommy's.

That was my kind of celebration.

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