Malcolm, Chapter 9

Malcolm

Chapter 9 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.

Freddy insisted on going with my mother and me to my grandparent's house.

His aunt helped him put together some clothes for himself and me and stuffed them into a shopping bag. He and Brenda helped me back up the hill.

At the hospital, mother told the nurse I'd fallen. They X-rayed my back but found no broken bones, just the obvious bruises. They gave me aspirins and told me to rest for a day or so.

My grandparents were surprised by our late arrival. They'd been preparing to go to bed. It was nearly ten thirty. My grandmother was very distressed when she saw me.

'Not again.' She put her arms around me and took me to the sofa to lie down.

My mother and grandfather huddled in the hall. My grandmother left me with Freddy and joined them. The three of them came and sat around me.

My grandfather said, 'First, I want you to know that you can stay here as long as necessary, as long as you want. So don't worry about that. You are our grandson and we love you very much. Beyond that, maybe we should wait until tomorrow to see what we're going to do about your things and school and so forth. But don't you worry. That man will never touch you again.'

It was too late to call Freddy's mother but my mother was sure Aunt Martha would be told where her son was when she arrived home.

Freddy helped me up to our third floor room. It was actually comfortable lying on my back. The ache in my head persisted but was mild.

Mother was put in the second floor bedroom she'd grown up in.

Freddy lay beside me and kept up the same theme he'd been harping on since we arrived at his house. 'Don' nevah go back wi' that son-a-bitch. I come see you heah eryday if I hafta. School's closah tah heah anyways.'

We slept naked at my request, not for sex, which would have been quite painful, but for the feel of his body against mine and the comfort and security it gave me.

Long after Freddy was breathing deeply, I lay wide awake, thinking about what my father had shouted at my mother in the hall and from the back porch. The remark about the doll and calling me homosexual to my mother was the first indication that my father saw what so many others had recognized so easily. There was no reason he shouldn't see the same. I tried to think of anything else he'd said or done before that should have given me a clue to his thoughts.

He never took me anywhere. Never. Anything done with a parent was with my mother. Did how I acted embarrass him' Was I really that effeminate'

Why didn't he ever talk to me about it'

I remembered he had said that he wasn't my father. Was that possible' I looked more like him than my mother. I had to ask her.

In the morning, I awoke before Freddy, the same thoughts on my mind. I nudged him awake.

'My father said he wasn't my father.'

Freddy wasn't completely conscious and just stared at me for a moment before sitting up.

'Mebbe he ain't. Mama won't tell us who my little sister's daddy is. Mah daddy was dead an' gone before she was born. Missy and me gots a daddy but we don' know 'bout Bea.'

'And he says I'm a homosexual.'

'Well, ain't he a smart white man,' said Freddy facetiously. 'Erybody knows that.'

'Everybody' You just said some.'

'Damn, there you go bein' a lawyer agin. Most erybody, okay' Anyhow, don' matter none to me or nobody else who's yo' friends. An' it sho' ain' s'posed ta mean nothin' to yo' daddy.'

We talked about it until breakfast time. It still hurt to get up but I didn't want to stay in bed all day so, with Freddy's help, I went down to the kitchen. My mother tried to hide it but she'd been crying. I hugged her and told her I loved her.

After we ate, I asked to speak alone to my mother. We went to her room.

Right off the bat, I asked, 'Is my father really my father?'

'Oh, you heard that. Yes, he is your father. He just has a lot of difficulty dealing with some things.'

'Like homosexuals.'

'Oh, Malcolm. He doesn't, no one knows that about anybody when they're so young. I don't think you're a homosexual.'

'What if I am?'

She had a difficult time finding words. 'Well, you're my son so I don't care one way or the other.' She paused and kneaded my hands. 'Are you worried about that?'

'Not, some. All the kids think I am, even Freddy but he says I might change when I get bigger. And everybody around Freddy's, they think so but they're still my friends. I don't know.'

Mother kept working my hands, looking at them instead of my face.

'I don't really care, mother. If I am, I am. I don't mind. I'm still as good as anyone else. I'm not afraid of anyone.' I was thinking of my father but didn't want to come out and say it.

My grandfather took Freddy and me to a department store and bought us clothes and shoes and coats and ice cream.

By Monday, New Year's Eve, I was functioning. My back and leg were still tender. Rather than watch the festivities on TV, Freddy and I celebrated with some front to front in our bed. Freddy permitted our longest lip to lip kiss, but didn't open his mouth.

We celebrated the day itself by getting back to our exercise regimen minus sit ups and leg raises which hurt my back too much

Thursday, my mother finally agreed to the talk my father had been begging for since the previous Saturday morning. The two of them met in a department store restaurant where a friend of my mother was general manager. That afternoon, we all sat at the dining room table to hear her report. Aunt Martha was there since her son was an integral part of what had happened and my grandfather wanted her to be part of any decision.

'Henry is, I believe, very sorry for what happened, for what he did. He went so far as to admit he brought it on. The bicycle was a very big mistake. He wants me back very much. We all know he loves me and, I, want to love him, have loved him.' She was very uncomfortable but not nearly as uncomfortable as I was hearing what sounded like a capitulation.

Freddy, sitting in the same chair as me, had one arm over my shoulder and the other around me holding the first. He pressed his chin into my back and squeezed me. We were both obviously very nervous about what this meant for us.

Mother continued. 'I did not agree to go back, yet, but said I'd think about it. I told him what I needed from him was for him to retract some of the terrible things he said about Malcolm, both to me and to Malcolm. And he's got to learn to accept Freddy because he's part of Malcom's life whether he likes it or not.'

Aunt Martha nodded. Freddy squeezed me again.

'He talked about possibly me coming home and Malcolm staying here.'

My spirits rose.

'I told him we'd discuss it but I felt he had to accept us both completely or neither.'

It took me a moment to understand that she was opening the door to my return also, something I was completely against.

'I don't ever want to live with him again,' I said calmly and resolutely.

'I know you don't dear, but if he can accept you as you are and admit what he did, to you, was wrong, and promise before all of us it will never happen again, we must consider it.'

I saw my grandfather shift in his chair. I guessed he was remembering, as I was, that he'd made that promise once before.

'Miss Sandra,' said Aunt Martha, 'that's a awful big chance ta take, that he won't do it agin. Maacum's been lucky so fah.'

'That's my feeling too, Sandra,' interjected my grandfather.

My father had promised that, no matter what, he was financially responsible for me and all my needs would be met. So, at least, I was still in school.

I took the streetcar to school on Thursday, and had to answer questions from other riders, including three who knew me from my class, about why I was on the streetcar when I lived within walking distance of the school.

'I'm staying with my grandfather for a while.'

A third grader asked, 'Your parent's getting divorced' Mine did and I had to move too.'

'No, I don't think so.'

The word got around quickly at school. Once again, Tommy Atkins told everyone to leave me alone. I wished I understood what his real attitude was concerning me. When I thanked him quietly for defending me, he poked me gently in the ribs and said, 'What are friends for?'

Francis cornered me at lunch. 'Your parents getting divorced?'

'No.'

'Then how come you're living at your grandfather's?'

Francis knew there was a problem between me and my father and that it became violent at times. 'You know. It happened again so now I don't live with him but don't say anything.'

'You know I won't. So where's your grandfather live?'

I told him.

'You wanna play around. I'm horny as shit. I got the crŠme.'

'Not today. Maybe in a few days.'

'Wow, you must really be feeling bad.'

'No, I just hurt a little, that's all.'

'Where'd he hit you?'

'Everywhere.'

I was trying to figure out why I turned him down. I couldn't think of ever having done that before in my life. Freddy and I had had sex nearly every night since New Year's Eve. I liked the feel of Francis' big cock inside me. He was nice about it and always jerked me off afterward and never said a word or even hinted at anything with anyone else. I looked around for Tommy Atkins and spotted him playing marbles in the dirt at the base of the flagpole. If he were to ask me for sex, what would my response be' I wasn't sure I'd say no but the fact that I wasn't sure was very strange.

I told Freddy about it back at the house. 'I dunno. Mebbe that hit in the head yo' daddy give you changed you.'

'I'm still doing it with you.'

'We's difrents. I let you fuck me and I ain't like that.'

We were different, for sure. Georgie recognized it. Freddy and I were more than brothers. The sex was just something we liked to do together. It had nothing to do with whether we liked boys or girls outside our relationship. Was I changing'

Each night, my grandmother, who had been a teacher right up to the birth of her first child, worked with Freddy on his homework and more. Freddy kidded about it but I sensed he enjoyed and appreciated it. His handwriting improved immediately. He started correcting his grammar mid sentence like, 'I done, I mean, I did' this or that. I was impressed that he cared.

Monday after swim class, I stood outside my locker and watched. Victor Cibelli take off his suit in front of Pat O'Riley's locker. The two of them stood there naked talking for a couple of minutes.

The sight evoked neither an erection nor desire for either of two boys whom I'd have sucked dry, given the opportunity, just a couple of weeks before. What was going on in my brain'

As soon as I got back from school, I pulled Freddy away from the radio and took him up to our room to tell him about my lack of sexual desire.

'I don' hafta fuck you if you don' wanna.'

'No, no. I don't mean that.'

Freddy grinned. He'd been kidding. 'Maacum, I don' know why you don' wanna get fucked no mo', any mo'. Yo' gramma is gonna make me crazy with her white folks English. Next thing I'm gonna be talkin' foolish like you.'

'Me?'

'Coin!'

'You win. I'll shut up.' Freddy's English was horrible. I understood him because we almost didn't need to talk to understand each other but I figured others, like my grandmother, probably had a hard time.

Freddy hadn't been much help with my dead libido. A psychiatrist probably wouldn't have been able to decipher it either. After six years of seeking cocks, I all of the sudden had lost the desire, completely. Victor Cibelli had been almost godlike to me with that gorgeous long thing of his. I'd many times made a fool of myself trying to get close to him just for the purpose of getting that great thing up my butt. And now, I wasn't at all moved by the sight of it.

That night, I realized something else disturbing. I didn't get hard with Freddy pumping into me until he began jerking me off. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy him inside me, I did, very much. However, I surmised, it was the physical closeness with someone I loved that I liked the most. The sexual aspect really had nothing to do with it.

Maybe I wasn't homosexual. Well, if I wasn't homosexual, I had to be the other way, I couldn't think of the word, and like girls.

'Freddy, we gotta talk to Brenda and . . '

'Maacum, hush up an' let me finish.' He was into his second time and hadn't yet cum.

Apparently I'd broken the spell. He had to bang into me hard for a while to get off.

'Damn, Maacum. Don' evah do that agin. Now, what about Brenda?'

We met the next day at the stream and walked to the settlement looking for Brenda. She was with some friends. Freddy pulled her out of the house.

'Brenda, we think mebbe Maacum done changed and like girls now.'

'Why you think that?'

Freddy looked at me. It was embarrassing. I knew she knew but we'd never come out and discussed it. ?'Cause I don't wanna do the other thing.'

'Mebbe you just sick o, shit, I don' know. So what am I s'posed ta do about that?' asked Brenda with her hands on her hips and a silly grin on her face.

Freddy answered. 'You gotta git Mary ovah heah Sataday so we can see.'

'How'm I s'posed to do that when taday's already Thursday.'

'I dunno but it's real important.'

Brenda leaned against a tree and folded her arms. 'You got any money' I'm gonna hafta take a couple busses.'

I gave her a quarter leaving just enough to get back to my grandfather's, my new home. I promised to come see her the next afternoon, but Freddy couldn't due to the extra bus fares. My mother only gave me enough each day for bus fare and a candy bar. I had some money hidden in the barn but was afraid to go anywhere near the place.

Brenda scored but it was going to cost me. Mary wanted bus fare and a dollar. I was going to have to go to the barn. The duplicate key was on a little key chain along with a key to my grandfather's garage where we played occasionally when the car wasn't in it. Janet figured to be there so the pig sty door was the better option.

The nail we'd placed into the door was stuck. I had to use a rusty piece of iron to get it out. Everything inside was as I'd last seen it. Three dollars and eighty cents was in the sleeping bag. It occurred to me I'd need the sleeping bag for any sex I was going to have. It was January and cold. I hauled it and the blanket out, walking back with them wrapped around me.

I showed Brenda the dollar and gave her twenty cents for Mary's bus fare.

'An' whattabout mines' How'm I s'posed to go git her?'

I took back a nickel and gave her a quarter.

'What time?' Freddy asked.

'Oh, 'bout ten o eleven o theahbouts.'

I climbed our tree house and dropped down the duffle bag. After stuffing the sleeping bag in on top of the blanket already in there, I couldn't get it back up so hid it under some bushes and tossed a couple of dead limbs on top for good measure.

On the streetcar home, I examined my feelings about sex with Mary. I closed my eyes and tried to re-enact in my mind the time I'd fucked her there in the woods. I even stuck my hand in my pocket to stimulate myself a little. That felt good but I wasn't sure if it was related to my dick going in and out of Mary.

Freddy and I didn't have sex Friday night so I'd be as fresh as possible for Mary's little vagina. What we hadn't considered was that the last time we'd seen Mary she was still ten, though about to turn eleven. That had been a year and a half before. Mary was now almost twelve and a half. When she arrived, I hardly recognized her. She was only a bit taller than me but had breasts and considerably wider hips.

'Hi, Maacum. Hi, Freddy. Wheah we gonna do this' I don't got a lot a time.'

The sleeping bag was laid out on top of one blanket and under another. Freddy had a warm fire going beside them.

I was experiencing a serious case of performance anxiety. My dick wasn't a lot bigger than it had been when I first stuck it in that cavern of hers, a cavern that now had to be a lot bigger. If she was charging me a dollar, she was charging others too and was well opened up by the man sized cocks she was renting herself out for.

But, there was no turning back, and maybe I'd learn something.

We took off our coats and wiggled inside. There was no way we could both undress in there so I got out and stripped down to my undershirt as close to the fire as I dared.

She was warm and still smooth as before. My cock was soft. 'You ain't very excited yet, Maacum, but Mary'll take care of that.'

While she rubbed her hands all around between my legs and over my cock, I felt between hers to see how much of a change had taken place. The first thing I found was a patch of pubic hair over her vagina. Then my fingers pressed inside her. It was huge. Douglas and a friend could have screwed her simultaneously.

However, she was getting my cock hard.

'Suck on my titties if you wants, Maacum.'

I slid down and tried it. They were soft like my ass. I caressed one while sucking the small nipple of the other.

'That's good, Maacum,' she said softly, just for us.

My cock was as stiff as it was going to get. I released her nipple and slid back up. Mary rolled onto her back and grabbed my buns. She opened her legs and I slid right in.

'Good, Maacum. Now fuck me.'

I thrust again and again but it was like screwing warm pudding. It was pleasant but I'd never get off doing it.

'Do it hardah, Maacum. Feel good.'

I obeyed and pushed in as hard as I could. She yanked on my butt cheeks with each thrust.

'Oh baby, this is good!' she said passionately.

I was starting to sweat from the exertion but fruition was miles down the road.

After a while, she let go of one cheek. A moment later, I felt her wet finger at my anus. She pushed in. Her finger nail hurt as it entered but went straight for my prostate. After wiggling it back and forth and stretching and pulling on my sphincter, she pulled it out and stuck in two fingers. That turned on something. She fucked my ass and twiddled my prostate. Seconds later, I felt everything happening. I tried to keep fucking but my body wanted to be rigid. My groin felt like a flashbulb was going off inside it. I came, throbbing time after time. I didn't feel her pull her fingers out.

She couldn't have been there more than fifteen minutes. I had to dress outside. The fire wasn't much help with my damp body. Mary was gone with her dollar before I tied my shoe laces. I was shivering so badly, Freddy had to tie them. He laughed the entire time he was doing it.

Freddy was dying to hear how it had gone. 'You came. I seen that.'

'She stuck her fingers up my rear and fucked me.'

'What?'

'She fucked me with her fingers, two of 'em.'

'Shit!'

'I couldn't do anything until she did that.'

'She was awful big too, wasn't she.'

'I hardly felt anything inside her.'

'What if we gits a girl mo' little, mo' like you. Whattabout them, those girls in yo' school erebody's fuckin?''

'Everybody's not fucking any of them, well, maybe one or two but they're not going to want to do it with me.'

'Mebbe if you give 'em money.'

'They've got money. They get more than me.'

'Whattabout if…?'

'Freddy, wait. Just wait. I still like it in my rear end. I haven't changed. I don't think I ever will.'

He stared at me then pushed around the wood in the fire. 'I still think you oughta try one mo' time.'

'Why' Remember when she was almost my size, I didn't get off until she stuck her finger in my hole, just like today except she did it a lot more.'

'Coulda been 'cause she was a girl. Shit, that's stupid. You right.' Freddy chuckled and lay back looking at the bare limbs of the trees above us. I lay beside him.

'Woulda been sumpin',' he laughed. 'Maacum Lloyd gits smacked by his old man an' goes from a fag to a whatevah you call 'em jes like that. Shit. You coulda been famous. Wanna git back in the bag?'

'You gotta let me fuck you too.'

'No I don't. Anyways, you ain't big enough.'

We did it the old way, first in front then from behind, drifting off to a semi-sleep afterwards. I wondered how I'd feel next time Francis propositioned me.

Sunday, mother went to Mass with my father at the church we'd regularly attended. She didn't get home until dinner time, shortly after Freddy and I returned from his mother's house. Her silence about what they'd discussed worried me. My grandmother served apple pie with ice cream for desert. My grandfather had a heart condition so it was a rare treat.

'I want you to know this has been a very difficult day for me, not difficult in a bad way, just, well, it required a lot of hard thinking. After Mass, your father and I met with Father Simons.'

Father Simons was the longest serving priest at the three priest parish. He was older than Father Lindenhal but younger than the Monsignor and fat, not obese, but definitely overweight. He taught Catechism once a week to the fifth through eighth grades in my school so I was familiar with him. He didn't seem any better or any worse than the rest of the nun teachers I'd had.

My heart sank at the next words. 'I really miss Henry. He has some terrible faults but overall he has been a wonderful husband. He does love me very much. Father Simons suggested we just visit for a while and see how it goes.'

The 'we' made me shiver.

'He'd like you to come once or twice too. Henry really wants to talk to you, to tell you how very sorry he is for everything, not just for recent events but for all these years he hasn't been a very good father. He's been in counseling with Father Simons since the first of the year.'

'I'm not going,' I said quietly.

'Please, dear. It doesn't have to be at the house. We can go somewhere, to

a restaurant or the park, wherever you want.'

I shook my head.

'Sandra,' said my grandmother. 'It might be too soon to be talking about that. It's only been a few weeks.'

Mother turned to me. 'All right, you can wait until you're ready, but I, I want to be with him. I want to go back to the house. Will that make you angry at me?'

I felt a constriction in my chest, like a rope was being wrapped around me, trapping me and dragging me slowly back under my father's cruel control. She was going back to him. I was their son. They could insist and my grandparents would be as powerless as I to prevent my return. I could hardly breathe. I tried to stand and fainted.

When I regained consciousness, I was stretched out on the sofa, my head in Freddy's lap. My grandmother sat beside us with a glass of water.

'Here, take a drink,' sounded like it was coming from some place far away.

My hand took the glass and put it at my lips. Freddy tipped it back, spilling water down my chin onto my lap.

'Maacum, drink some water.'

I opened my mouth and drank.

Mother was very apologetic. She should have broken it to me slower. I didn't have to come until I was ready. At no time did she say I didn't ever have to come back if I didn't want to. The frustration in my grandfather's eyes frightened me. The inevitability of being forced back sank into me like water into a drowning dog.

I couldn't, wouldn't speak to my mother. She was betraying me. Her promises of protection were a con. Anger built in my chest. I quickly went to my bedroom before I said something that might make matters worse. Freddy chased after me.

I told him how I felt, what I believed was happening. We fell asleep clothed, in each other's arms.

Grandmother woke us. We bathed together.

'You ain't thinkin' 'bout doin' nothin' stupid, are you, Maacum?'

'I don't know. They're gonna make me go back. I can't go back there, ever.'

'Talk to yo' granddaddy. He's smart. He'll know what to do.'

My mother wasn't there for breakfast. She'd gone to him the night before after I went to my room.

Freddy took the trolley to school. My grandfather drove me.

'I spoke to your mother before she left last night and explained that I didn't think it was a good idea for you to be pressured right now to see your

father. I think she understands that. I'm going to arrange to speak with Father Simons then I'll sit down with your father and see what we can arrange.'

'That I can live with you?'

'That's what your grandmother and I want but, you understand the situation. We can fight for you, go to court if necessary, but, in the end, parents have strong legal rights. And we don't have much in the way of concrete proof of abuse. Unless we were very lucky, the court would probably be sympathetic to your father's attitude about Freddy. I just want to be very honest with you so you understand your situation. But I don't think anything's going to happen any time soon.'

After dropping me off at school, he was going to the rectory to see if he

could see or set up an appointment with Father Simons.

Francis approached me again at recess. Had his sex been more affectionate, I probably would have agreed but, good as it felt, being the receptacle for someone's cock wasn't what I wanted at the time. He frowned but didn't plead, then put his arm over my shoulder and led me to where his friend Glen was sitting with some others on the wall. I listened to the sound of the conversation for a minute or so but was thinking about Francis's arm over my shoulder.

'Francis,' I said, 'I forgot to show you something.'

He knew immediately what was to be shown. He forced the boiler room door. Inside, we dropped our pants and I flopped across old newspapers the janitor kept piled in a corner. Francis lubed himself from the tin he kept in his pocket and pushed inside me. It did feel good. He had grown since that first time the previous Fall and filled me perfectly. He stood leaning into me and fucked slowly.

'Lie on top of me, Francis.'

I pulled his hands under my shoulders and enjoyed the feel of his body undulating as he thrust into me. I was worried he'd be fast considering how long it had been but he went on and on.

'Do me just before you come,' I asked.

It took a while. His passion rose slowly. I came the moment he touched me. A few more hard thrusts and he shot his load into me.

As we cleaned up with the folded toilet paper he carried, I asked, 'How come it took you so long?'

He smiled. 'Weekly blow jobs by a certain young lady.'

'Oooh. Who' I won't tell.'

'Can't do that. A promise is a promise.'

'She go to school here?'

'Of course.'

'Are you the only one she's doing?'

'Too many questions.'

We went upstairs to the hall outside our classroom to await the bell. I ran to take a pee just before it rang.

When I told Freddy what Francis and I had done, he said thoughtfully, 'Tha's okay, Maacum. Tha's the way you are. You jus' doin' what you s'posed ta do.'

It was really cold outside so we played Monopoly, a game that always ended with an argument preventing coin toss. We both hated losing such a long endeavor.

My grandfather's talk with Father Simons hadn't resolved anything, hadn't even given him a feeling of how Father Simons felt about the situation. However, he was to meet with my parents and Father Simons on Thursday at eleven. I worried that Father Simons would have the same attitude toward Negroes as the nuns.

Freddy and I were sitting on the sofa, my grandfather in his easy chair.

I asked, 'Did he say anything about me being homosexual?'

My grandfather seemed uncomfortable with the question. He and I had never discussed it but I assumed my mother had mentioned it to him. And if everyone else noticed it, why not my grandfather'

He glanced at Freddy, sighed, and answered, 'Well, not exactly. Father Simon talked about both you and your father having some character problems and you having a particular moral problem.

'Malcolm, I know you and I have never talked about this, and, we don't have to. But, if you want to, I don't really know anything about it. If you'd like, we can go see someone who does, who might be able to help you.'

Help me do what, I thought, change' 'No, that's okay. Did Father Simons say anything about me having to go back?'

'He thought it should be a goal that we work toward.'

'I don't ever want to go back.'

'I know, son.'

Freddy helped me work off some of my frustration with our exercises. The sweat made what came next so much more delicious.

I could hardly concentrate on anything the next two days awaiting the results of the Thursday meeting. By lunchtime on Thursday, my stomach was in such a knot, I gave away my sandwiches and chocolate milk. Watching the others eat made me nauseous. I went into the bathroom but nothing came up.

In the classroom, Sister Bernice noticed and sent me to the nurse. She called my grandmother to come pick me up but no one was at home. The nurse had me lie on the examination table and covered me with a sheet. Half an hour later, she tried again and was successful.

Both my grandparents came. In the car, I begged for news from their meeting.

'Malcolm, I'm still thinking about it. Let's wait until we're home and can sit down calmly.'

My stomach reacted immediately. I gagged and threw up on the floor in front of the rear seat. My grandmother handed me a box of tissue and opened the window. I was so weak they had to help me climb the stairs to the kitchen.

They wanted me to rest before we spoke. I wanted to hear everything immediately. Grandmother had to clean up the mess I'd made in the back of the car. She was probably grateful not to be part of what I was about to be told.

'I want you to know that I fought for you, and if you wish, I'll go to court, but both your parents are insisting you come home this weekend. Your father did seem willing to admit his mistakes and be a better father. He swore there would be no more violence on his part but that you had to do your part too.'

'What part' He attacks me!'

'Calm down and listen. Your father says in each case the matter has started when you refused to do something and then started calling him names. One time, he insists, you started calling him names while he was asleep in bed.'

'All I want to do is be with Freddy. What's wrong with that?'

'He is willing to compromise on that. You can go see Freddy twice a week after school on the condition that you never leave the area of his house with him, especially not anywhere near your house.'

'That's stupid!'

'Malcolm. Calm down. There's more and it's not all bad. As long as you obey the two time a week rule with Freddy and do your chores, you can go off and see friends any time you want, bring them to your house, come see us.'

'Can Freddy come here?'

'No. Remember, you can only see Freddy near where he lives, not out in public.'

'And if I go to see him more?'

'You will be restricted to the house again.'

'I'm not going back.'

'Malcolm, they can force you to go back. If you don't, you'll be a runaway. If I let you stay here, I can be charged with kidnapping.'

'Kidnapping' You're my grandfather.'

'The only people who have a right to have you with them, unless a court says otherwise, are your parents.'

'Then let's go to court.'

'You still have to go home this weekend. With that lawyer Belstone of your

father, it will take weeks to get it into court and we will almost certainly lose.'

'And, if I run away, what can they do to me?'

'Take you back home or a foster home or, if you keep running away, a reformatory. In those places you will never be allowed to see Freddy and they are far worse than your house.'

I jumped out of my chair. 'This isn't fair!' I walked back and forth from one end of the kitchen to the other. My grandfather sat silently. I stopped and hugged him. I was sure he felt as miserable and frustrated as I, but not as angry.

'Twice a week with Freddy isn't enough. Why can't I see him whenever I want' We don't do anything wrong.'

'Sit down, son. There's more.'

I knew it would be bad from the tone of his voice.

'The reason you can't see Freddy more than two times a week is because you'll have chores one afternoon and will be stopping by the rectory twice a week for counseling with Father Simons.'

'Why' For what?'

'A priest from another parish called Father Simons a year and a half ago about you and one of his altar boys. Father Simons discussed it with your principal but she said she didn't think anything was going on there at the school so he dropped the matter. They are concerned about you and Freddy.'

'Freddy likes girls.'

'Do you know the boy he was talking about?'

Admitting what went on with Philip wasn't easy. 'He wanted to do it too. That stupid priest.'

'Malcolm, I've an idea that might help. What if I arrange for a doctor to see you instead of Father Simons.'

'There's nothing wrong with me.'

'I agree but you're going to have to see someone and I think it will be a lot easier on you if it's a doctor rather than Father Simons.'

A growing depression made me feel like I was being buried alive. Inside I was crying but my eyes stayed dry.

'So I'm being blamed for everything. I'm a nigger loving fag. I,' I sat and finally cried tears.

My grandfather stood behind me and massaged my shoulders.

Freddy took the news better than I. 'Fuck them. We always found a way ta be togethah. We gone do it again.'

'I don't think I can handle this counseling. I know what he's gonna say, the same crap that priest told Philip.'

'Philip ratted you out and mebbe us too.'

I wondered how hard the nuns had been watching me at school. There had been sex right there with three different boys and Francis admitted that many of the boys knew of my orientation.

So much had come to light that afternoon. Sister Kathleen knew about me and Philip. Had she said anything to the other nuns' Philip had seen Freddy and me naked and guessed we'd been doing things. Did he tell his priest that too' Is that why they were 'concerned' about Freddy and me' Why was what I did with other kids, that we both liked doing, a problem' Why was it anybody's business but ours'

Freddy and I discussed it all over and over again, breaking only for dinner. He wanted me to fight them, not to let them destroy our lives. 'They said you can go out whenever you want.'

'Sure, to see white boys, not you.'

'Well, we find another white boy like Louis but we gotta be smarter, that's all.'

I didn't know much about the vast majority of my classmates. I'd need to learn more. Freddy mentioned all the kids in the public school and the parochial school. Maybe I should go to the playgrounds and see what I found. The challenge lifted my spirits a bit.

We wore our pajamas, tops and bottoms, to bed but lowered the bottoms to make love.

Francis was horny again Friday. 'I can't,' I said, 'I think the nuns are watching me.'

'Who told?'

'Some kid a long time ago, not from here. He told a priest who told Father Simons. He told Sister Kathleen.'

'Gees. You gotta be careful then. Simons is a prick. You sure?'

'Not completely but, well, they told my father.'

'That prick. What'd your father say?'

'I haven't seen him yet.' I told him about having to go home the next day.

'Just tell him it was just that one time and it was the other kid's idea, not yours. You doing it with anybody else here?'

'No.' Frank Stillings and Mitchell Sanders had graduated the year before.

'Gees. This is so stupid. You don't do that much and there's all kinds of sex going on around here, kids jerking off, girls giving blow jobs, getting fucked. There's only a few guys from our class but seventh and eighth, there's a bunch of them. And they're bothering you. Pricks.'

That evening at dinner, my grandmother said to Freddy, 'You know, if you'd like, Freddy, on the days you're not going to be with Malcolm, you can come here after school and I can continue to work with you on your studies. We'll be happy to pay your car fare.'

Freddy looked at me. 'Do it,' I urged.

He agreed to come Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and even Saturday mornings. We couldn't do anything before eleven Saturdays even if it turned out to be possible.

My grandfather told me that my parents would be by the following afternoon between three and four.

In bed, I told Freddy to 'fuck me all night, don't stop.' I had the feeling my sex life was going to be curtailed dramatically. Freddy and I would be reduced again to our sleeping bag, possibly just two times a week though Freddy was sure we'd get around that. Sex in bed, though, would be hard to come by.

Freddy lay on my back and pumped slowly. Around the middle of the night, I got up on my knees so he could do it doggie style. 'Do it hard,' I insisted.

Later, I rolled over and he fucked me from the front. 'Harder,' I said.

'We gone wake up yo' granfolks, Maacum.'

He fucked me a little harder. I wanted to hear the smack, smack, smack of our bodies coming together.

Each time, I lay back on my stomach and he pushed back inside. What time we slept, we did so in that position though his cock eventually slipped out.

Saturday morning, we went to Freddy's house and the stream. We wanted to set up a place for more comfortable sex and some late night rendezvous if they became necessary. What we planned was ambitious but, if we could pull it off, offered a hideout should we ever need one. Our idea was to dig a small room into the side of the hill on the church side of the stream, a third of the way to the top and about thirty feet upstream from our tree house. The hill there was almost vertical. The problem would be how to prevent rain runoff from destroying the front and creating a muddy pool inside. The tools we needed were in my father's barn. It rained off and on that morning, probably a harbinger of the bad times to come when I was taken back home. My coat was water repellent. We borrowed a raincoat from Freddy's aunt for him.

The bushes were bare of leaves and offered only partial cover. I saw no one in the living room or the kitchen so we ran to behind the barn and crossed into my father's property. Freddy had a pair of pliers to pull out the nail and open the pig sty door. Inside, we chose a pick and shovel.

It was lunchtime so we ate at Freddy's aunt's house. I had to be back by three so there wasn't much time.

With a bucket from Douglas' house, we carried the dirt we dug down to the stream and dumped it into the water. Digging was difficult. The ground wasn't frozen but there were rocks and roots everywhere.

I stopped digging after a while and sat by our hole. 'I don't want to go home today. Why can't they wait 'til tomorrow?'

Freddy slipped down the hill and sat beside me. 'You gotta, Maacum. You don't and they gone be a whole lot worse trouble.'

I felt like crying.

'Look, Maacum.' He put his arm over my shoulder. 'We gonna be okay. We too strong fo' them. Once we sees how it is, we can do a lot a stuff, you'll see.'

We covered the hole with limbs, brush and leaves and walked back to his house. The tools were hidden in Douglas house in case my mother or father came by to see Aunt Martha.

My mother arrived alone at four thirty. I hadn't packed anything since most of what was at my grandparent's house they'd bought for me the day after I arrived.

She wanted to talk to me. I didn't want to talk to her. My grandfather said nothing.

'Dear, things are going to be so much different now. You can see Freddy.'

'Yeh, twice a week.'

'That might change in time and you can go visit friends on weekends. You can use your bicycle. It has gears so climbing hills is easy.'

My control slipped. 'You lied to me. You said I never had to go back.'

'Dear, sometimes, we say things that aren't possible. At the time, I meant it but we are a family and?'

'No we're not.'

'Don't say that Malcolm. Your father and I love you.'

'Bullshit. Let's just go.'

I walked to the front door and out to her car. My grandfather caught up to me. 'Malcolm, you've got to calm down. Acting like this will only make things worse. Just relax.'

'But I hate them.'

'Please don't talk like that. Just try to be agreeable. You don't have to do any more than that. It will be so much easier.'

Mother opened the door on my side and walked to hers. I hugged my grandfather. Grandmother stood on the porch and waved. There was a glint in her eye. It brought tears to mine.

For a while, my mother tried to talk about how my father looked forward to being a better father and spending time with me. I refused to respond. She finally gave up.

It was raining again when we pulled up to the house. My father was waiting in the hall when I walked in. I turned through the dining room, went through the kitchen up to my room and closed the door.

I sat at my desk and turned on the radio, searching for some black music.

There was a knock at my door and my father walked in and sat on the bed.

'Can we talk?'

The moment he spoke, I instinctively looked for a weapon. I grabbed a metal ruler and sat without a word.

'Malcolm, I know you're angry at me and in some ways you're, right.

I whipped around with the ruler in my fist and glared at him.

'Don't forget, boy,' he said with a smile, 'it was you who tried to kill me. I've got the scar to prove it. All I did was smack you one, as you deserved, for a pretty foul remark. You going to stab me with that?'

'Whatta you want?'

'I just want to talk, like father and son.'

'I'm not your son. You said so. So just go away.' What he said disgusted me, shattered any fear I felt when he entered the room.

'That was an unfortunate remark and I apologize for it.'

'And the doll' Just go away. I'm here. What else do you want?'

'I want us to be friends.'

'You're crazy.'

His smile was fading. 'Look, Malcolm, life is a two way street. I'm trying to be right with you. I have admitted my mistakes but you've made some too and are making more right now. We need to start over. I'm willing to forget the past. You've got to do the same.'

'How come I can only see Freddy two times a week and only at his place?'

'Didn't you learn anything from that beating down on the tracks' People don't like seeing Negroes and whites together. That doesn't mean it's wrong, just that it's dangerous. I'm trying to protect you.'

'Right, two times a week.'

'Two times a week is all the time you have. I had to cut down your chores to one afternoon and Saturday morning to get in those two afternoons.'

'Yeh, so I can go see that priest so he can tell me how bad I am and save my soul.'

'Malcolm, you have a problem. I can't believe you like being the way you are. You only have one friend. All the rest left you. Most of the kids at school don't want to play with you. Ever ask yourself why' Wouldn't it be nicer if you could be like everyone else?'

'What, like you?'

He stood and sighed. 'We're not getting very far, are we' You need to start thinking about what I've said.'

He almost slammed the door.

I mouthed 'fuck you' at him.

I did think about what he said but didn't find anything that provided hope.

At the dinner table, he tried to be funny, about how wobbly I'd be when I started riding my bicycle.

'You know what, maybe I'll get one and we can go riding together,' he said.

I shook my head and forced myself to eat mother's overdone meatloaf. Janet had left the day of our little war and had never returned. They were looking for a maid, a white one, I was sure.

By the time I drifted off to sleep, my anger had melted a bit. At least there weren't threats. Maybe if I just got back to doing my chores ahead of his orders, I could limit my contact with him and gain a little more freedom. The counseling sessions would need to be dealt with. Perhaps, I could convince the prick priest I'd changed and cut them short. I'd go to confession on Thursdays and use his confessional when he was there and talk about sins of omission, and maybe impure thoughts about Virginia Bailey.

Then I met him. My parents took me to the rectory after Mass. He was waiting for us in his office. The smile was as thick as Chinese tissue. I tried to make mine thinner, then remembered my plan.

'You know we'll be getting together Mondays and Thursdays after school.'

'Yes sir.'

He smiled some more of his Chinese tissue. 'That's father, not sir. I'm not a policeman.'

I tried to force a 'yes, father' but it stuck in my throat.

'Have you and your father had a nice talk?' He looked back and forth at the both of us.

I studied the seam in my slacks.

'We got a few things out of the way,' answered my father.

'That's really important. I want you two to spend some time with each other every day just talking about whatever comes up. That's what Malcolm and I are going to do.' He reached over and patted my knee.

He asked my parents how things were going. They said great.

He gave me a rosary and a little, fake leather bound prayer book he suggested I read a bit from each night. I was to come see him Monday right after school.

After breakfast, I asked, 'Am I allowed to go out?'

'Depends on where you want to go,' answered my father with a smile he borrowed from Father Simons.

'I don't know. Down to Benson's, around there.' I really wanted to see Stewart, the altar boy and very briefly my friend, and find out what I could about Father Simons. He'd served Mass for him for at least three years.

'That's fine but you know where you're not to go?'

'Yeh'

'Where?'

'Freddy's'

He waved his arm toward the door. I got my coat in the pantry and walked down the lawn to the street and from there past the public school and a pair of large houses to the broad intersection where Benson's occupied the most prominent of the four corners. Benson's was the candy store and soda fountain frequented early morning and afternoon by students from all area schools. About ninety percent of the students had to pass the intersection to get home. The streetcar turnaround was across the street. I was told that teenagers hung out in there nights, especially weekends. I was the only patron at eleven fifteen Sunday morning. I sat at a table and searched the tree lined sidewalks. My mother was just below the public school, trying to hide behind a tree.

'Stupid', I thought.

I walked down by Stewart's house. He was out front cleaning the dirt yard. He had to be at least thirteen but wasn't much taller than me, and as three years before, probably weighed less. We'd winked at each other when he served the nine o'clock Mass I attended when I went and had waved a few times on the way out. I stood behind a car across the tracks and watched, debating whether to go say hi. I was worried his uncle might be home.

Rather than risk a confrontation, I walked across the street to the tracks and waited for him to see me. His face lit up when he did. I motioned for him to come over. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. I pointed at myself and then in his direction. He looked around and waved me in.

Our greetings were uncomfortable. I noticed his voice hadn't begun to change. He kept his distance. I sat on an old railroad tie on one side of his yard.

'Still can't leave Sunday's?'

He shook his head.

'How's school?'

'Okay.'

'Still eating breakfast at the rectory?'

'Sometimes, when I serve for Father Lindenhal.'

'How come not other times?'

He walked over and sat on the far end of the tie. I waited for his answer. 'Nothin' special. Father Lindenhal always asks me if I want.'

'What about Father Simons?'

He pursed his lips and picked up two small stones. 'We don't get along that good any more.' He threw one then the other stone at a wooden chair by the door of his one room apartment.

'I gotta go to him for counseling.'

'Just be careful.'

'Why?'

'Just be careful.'

'What'd he do to you' I'm not gonna tell. I don't like him much either.'

'How come you gotta do counseling with him?'

'You know, problems with my father.'

'Well, just don't tell him nothin' you don't want yer father to know.'

'He a snitch?'

'Oh yeah. A big one.'

'So what happened?'

'I told him somethin'. He told ma uncle. My uncle kicked ma ass, couple times.'

'What's you tell him?'

'What we talked about.'

It had been three years. 'I don't remember, what?'

He waved his fist over his crotch like he was jerking off.

'He beat you for that' That's stupid. Everybody in my school does it. I'll bet Father Simons did it.'

'I'm sure he did it. Way he talked about it. But he just wanted me to say I did it.'

'And he told your uncle.'

'Kicked my ass two times.'

Stewart still had no friends outside of school. In school, they were more friendly classmates than real friends. He was by far the smallest kid in eighth grade. We talked about school and girl friends that neither of us had and how often the trains went by. The steam engine was often replaced by a diesel locomotive.

I promised to come by the next weekend.

I looked all over for mother but couldn't find her. I walked up to the church and past it. Mother wasn't behind me. A hundred yards ahead was a road that went up the steep hill among some medium sized homes. I figured that somewhere along there I could cut between a couple and down through the woods to the stream.

It was farther than it seemed but I finally slipped down the hill through trees and brush to the stream and up to Freddy's house. He grinned and patted me on the back. 'See, you done it, did it.' My grandmother was still having an effect.

I changed into some of his clothes and we took my father's pick and shovel down to our project. We wore ourselves out but made twice as much headway as Friday afternoon.

As we worked, I told him about what Stewart had told me.

'Well, I tole you what ta do with that white man. Just lie an' deny, deny an' lie.'

'I was thinking, well, what do I do that makes everybody think I'm a fag.'

Freddy chuckled. 'Jus' 'bout everything. Yo' talk and what you always doin' wif yo' hands.'

'Like what?'

'Like that. Look at yo' hands right now.'

They were up and open. I stuffed them between my legs.

'An' that.'

'Freddy!'

'An that.'

'What?'

'An' the way you said 'what' all like a girl.'

'So how am I supposed to say it?'

'What?' He said it the way I thought I was saying it.

'What?'

'What, you tryin' ta change how you talk so nobody thinks you a homo?'

'Yes.'

'Well, you can fo'git that. That's just too much to change.'

'Oh Freddy, I don't wanna get stuck seeing this priest for the rest of my life.'

'Then just tell him you holy an' don' nevah touch yo'self down theah.'

That became my plan.

My father questioned me about where I'd been. I was clean as a pin from bathing at Freddy's. Aunt Martha had brushed off my clothes so they looked like they'd been in church all day.

'I went down by the lumber yard and talked to that boy who serves Mass for a while then went out the tracks to a bridge over a stream. This man was fishing. He had two fishing rods so I held one.' I'd seen that in some magazines.

'Catch anything?'

'I didn't. He got one.'

'You like fishing?'

'I don't know. It's awful boring.'

Before sleeping, I read a few pages from the prayer book so I could say something about them at the next day's session with Father Simons.

At school the next morning, I asked Tommy Atkins, who I knew sometimes served Mass for the nuns, about Father Simons.

'You wanna be an altar boy?'

'No. Don't tell anybody, okay?'

'What, that you don't want to be an altar boy?'

'No, what I'm gonna say, what I'm gonna tell you.'

'What?' He didn't look too happy about me confiding in him.

'I gotta go to him for counseling.'

'Father Simons?'

'Yes.'

'Why' Oh, I guess I know. 'Cause of the way you are?'

'Mmm hmm.'

'My suggestion is just tell him you aren't. He's always telling us not to touch ourselves, that it's some terrible mortal sin and we'll go to hell.'

'That's what my friend says. Deny and lie.'

Tommy laughed. 'Perfect. Deny and lie.'

'Thanks, Tommy. I owe you one.'

'I hope so.'

I stared at him trying to decide if I should take the next step. He'd

certainly given me the first one. Caution overruled. I touched him on the arm and said, 'Soon.'

When I turned I looked all around without moving my head, up to the second and third floor windows to see if any of the nuns were watching me. There were two in the entry speaking to a group of older boys and one shaking a rag out her third floor window. But none seemed to be paying any attention to me.

When I arrived at the rectory after school, Mildred, the maid, welcomed me and took me to Father Simons' office off the main hall.

Same phony smile, same stilted greeting. He held out a beefy hand. I almost ignored it but thought better and shook it briefly. He took a while to let go. He waved me to a sparsely upholstered brown leather chair in front of his desk.

'All that I want to do this week is get to know you. For instance, what do you like to do in your spare time?'

'I dunno, play with my friends.'

'Doing what?'

'Toss baseball cards, listen to music, make things at the stream, like that.'

'Do you play any sports?' I noticed how the fat on his throat jiggled when he spoke.

'Sure, some basketball and baseball and I'm a real good swimmer. Last year at camp I was tops in push ups and that stuff. I'm still the best in gym at school.'

'How many pushups can you do?'

'Depends. Around thirty-eight, forty.'

'That's pretty good. What else do you do?'

'I read a lot, go to the park and the zoo with my grandfather, work in his shop and do drawings but I'm not very good at that.'

It seemed to be going very well.

'Tell me about Freddy?'

I was prepared for that. 'He's my best friend.'

'How long have you known Freddy?'

'Since I was six, five years.'

'How did you meet him?'

'I was playing at the stream and he came by. We started playing together and, well, we still do.'

'What do you and Freddy do together?'

'Everything. We still play down by the stream but not as much. We make tree houses and stuff like that. And we play stuff with his friends like hide and seek and tag and marbles. Sometimes we play ball but there isn't any place big enough to play baseball or anything like that.'

'Why don't you play on the public school playground'

'You know.'

'Because Freddy's a Negro.'

'Mmm hmm.'

'Do you think that's fair?'

'No, do you?' It wasn't a good thing to ask but it just came out.

'This is about you, Malcolm, not me.' That's when the animosity seeped into my consciousness.

I straightened my pants cuff.

'What else do you and Freddy do?'

'Oh, listen to music, eat at his house. His mother's a really good cook. She was our cook for a while but my father fired her because she got angry when he beat me.'

'Hmmm. Do you sleep with Freddy sometimes?'

'Mmm hmm.'

'In the same bed?'

'Mmm hmm.'

'And you play around a little in bed like boys do?' he asked with a smile that would have made a used car salesman proud. Stupid was the word that popped into my mind.

'Nah, we're always sleepy when we go to bed.'

'Aw, come on. You never do anything in bed other than sleep?'

'Like what?'

'What boys do.'

I tried to look as confused as possible, then embarrassed as possible. 'You mean with our privates?'

'Mmm hmm.'

'Oh no, father. That's a sin. A mortal sin. Freddy goes to church too, every Sunday and his mother would beat him silly if she ever caught him doing that.'

That led to my body being a temple of Christ and we shouldn't defile that temple and on and on.

I wasn't sure he believed any of my denials and lies but I didn't believe any of his platitudes. The man sounded like a door to door salesman selling hair brushes or encyclopedias.

'What a jerk!' I told Freddy the following afternoon. 'And what's really stupid is that he wants me to go to confession with him on Thursday and tell him everything because God is listening and it's a terrible sin if I don't tell him everything. What a jerk! I haven't been to confession in so long I forgot what to say. I'm gonna talk to this kid in my class tomorrow. I think he knows it all.'

We spent half an hour in the sleeping bag committing mortal sin after mortal sin. 'You gonna tell 'bout this in confession?'

'Unh uh. Then he'd wanna do it too.'

Tommy Atkins was very helpful on confession. 'That's easy. You know about 'Forgive me father for I have sinned. It's been two weeks since my last confession', right?'

I nodded.

'Never say more than three weeks or they start yapping about that. Then you confess stuff like you got angry at your little sister and your mother, or you got in a fight with a friend, or you lied about eating some cookies. Don't use that too much. I did and Simons caught it and wanted to know why I kept doing it. And, this is good for you, tell him you had impure thoughts about a girl when she bent over to tie her shoes. He'll talk a lot about your body is a temple but it'll throw him off.'

'He's not going to believe that from me.'

'Maybe not, but who knows. Piss him off enough with that and maybe he'll quit trying to change you 'cause that's what this is all about, right?'

We grinned at each other. I really wanted to sin with him. And I was pretty sure he had the same impure thought.

'I wish I knew a safe place,' I said.

His smile broadened. 'I do. Wanna eat lunch there?'

'Yes.'

Just before lunch, Tommy volunteered to clap erasers. Pat O'Riley joined him. Tommy motioned for me to leave with the rest. Five minutes later, he came down with Pat who went off to the plaza. Tommy said, 'Come on' and led me back up the stairs. Our third floor classroom door was open. He closed and locked it behind us.

'In here?'

'As long as we stay against this wall, no one can see us.' We indicated the wall bordering the hallway. There were doors at each end of the classroom and a blackboard on the wall between them. 'We've got,' he looked at his wrist watch, 'thirty-nine minutes before the bell.'

We sat against the wall. Tommy asked, 'Wanna eat first or,'

I put my hand in his crotch. He was ready. I undid his belt and opened his pants. He lifted up so I could pull them down. His balls were the size of marbles. His cock was a growing three and a half inches.

'You wanna fuck me?'

'Not this time. Just put your mouth on me.'

He lay out flat against the wall. I lay over his dropped drawers and felt his groin. I ran my hands up under his shirt and took his thick cock into my mouth. It was smooth and warm and delectable. He lay his hands softly on my head. I caressed his pectorals and slowly moved my head around on his cock. His powerful stomach muscles flexed. I raised up on his cock to taste the circumcised head and look up his body. I pushed his shirt up but it was stuck beneath him. I let go of his cock and asked, 'Raise your back up'. He did and I pushed his shirt up to his underarms. His body was magnificent.

I slid my mouth up and down that stiff rod, going down far enough to run my tongue over his succulent testicles. His hips rotated up at me, pushing his cock to the back of my mouth and allowing my tongue to taste his rounded perineum.

There I was, after years of yearning, looking lustfully, with the body of the top class athlete, Tommy Atkins, under my hands, his dick and balls in my mouth. It was incredibly erotic. My cock lifted my groin off the floor.

My hands slid up and down his torso, right to the base of his hairless cock. His hands tightened on my head, flexing those thick pectoral muscles I so loved. He pumped faster and moved my head in time. His chest heaved with the deep breaths he was taking. He made a muffled, high pitched sound. His muscles tensed. He pulsed rapidly in my mouth. I heard a thump the moment he came. As the pulsing slowed, he pumped a few more times into my mouth. I sucked in his balls and moved them around with my tongue. He sat up.

'Gees, Malcolm. That was great.' He was rubbing the back of his head. He grinned. 'I banged my head on the floor when I came.'

Lunch wasn't nearly good as the appetizer.

We walked out a few minutes before the bell and waited down in the second floor hallway.

Thursday afternoon, armed with the sins I'd worked up the afternoon before while cleaning out my father's basement shop, I walked confidently into the confessional that the kids there before me said held Father Simons. Tommy Atkins had come along for moral support.

I heard the far side window slide shut. Mine opened.

'Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession.'

'Just two?'

'Yes father, two. I went with my grandfather to Holy Name.'

'Go ahead.'

'I got angry at my parents a couple of times and said a curse word to myself.'

'To yourself?'

'I didn't say it out loud.'

'What else?'

I tried to sound embarrassed. 'I had some bad thoughts.'

'What kind of bad thoughts?'

I hesitated. 'This girl bent over and I saw her in front and I sorta wanted to touch her.'

'Touch her how?'

'On her, you know, up front.'

'A girl.'

'Of course.'

'You know God knows your thoughts, everything in your mind.'

'Yes, father. That's why I told it.'

He sighed and shifted around in his chair.

'What else?'

'That's all.'

'You're sure there's nothing else that God knows is on your mind and wants you to confess so your soul is white and pleasing to Him?'

'No, Father.'

'All right, say three Hail Marys and three Our Fathers and go to my office. Now say a sincere Act of Contrition.'

I had to take a breath to keep from laughing. I said the Act of Contrition as quickly as I could and dashed out as the window was being closed. Tommy was watching. We grinned broadly at each other and walked outside.

'What a jerk!'

'What'd you tell him?'

'What we said. He asked me if it was a girl after I said it was. What a jerk. He said God was reading my mind and all that. I almost laughed at him at the end.'

'Gees, Malcolm. Don't ever do that.'

Tommy and I waited behind a low wall at the foot of the stairs to the sidewalk. Sensing that Tommy saw religion much as I did, I asked him why he was an altar boy.

'It's kinda fun and you get trips and food and the nuns trust you with shit. I can get most any key I want just for asking. Helps with grades sometimes. Me and Pat take home wine in little jars sometimes or get a drink right there in the sacristy. On a dare, I drank a slug out of a cruet right in the middle of Mass at the convent. Cost Pat a dollar. Scared the shit out of me. I'll never do it again.'

When we saw Father Simons walk out the side door half an hour later, I rushed up to walk with him.

'Good afternoon, Father.'

'Hey, you're supposed to be waiting inside. It's cold out here.' He looked around but Tommy stayed hidden.

After a few questions concerning how things were going at home to which I said 'Okay, I guess', he edged into my confession.

'I don't know if you understand the seriousness of the confessional. Lying in there isn't like fibs to your mother. You are lying directly to God who can read everything in your mind. It's a grave sin and not very smart. It's like telling me you're not sitting here when I can see you in front of me with my eyes.'

Tears were my goal but I had to make do with a look of sad confusion. 'But I didn't lie, father.'

'Malcolm, you wanted to touch a girl's breasts?'

'Just for a minute. I didn't do it.'

'Malcolm, we know about you and boys and you want me to believe'.'

'Just one boy and it was a long time ago and it was his idea, Father. And I confessed it right away.' The confession popped into my mind as I was talking.

'Malcolm, according to the other boy, you asked him several times before he allowed you to touch him in your bathtub. And'.'

'That's a lie. He's lying! I didn't even want to take a bath. He was always talking about sex, sex, sex. That's why he went to the YMCA so he could see naked people. I went because my father made me and I skipped out as much as I could.' I had more but figured I'd said enough.

'Malcolm, I've spoken to the priest of the other boy. He's nothing like you. I'm afraid I don't believe you.'

'How's he not like me?'

'Dear Lord, boy, you act like a girl. He acts like a boy, a normal boy.'

'Then why did he try to kiss me all over my mouth?'

'Malcolm, please stop lying. You are making a fool of yourself.'

'I am not lying.'

Father Simons stood up, walked to and sat in the chair beside mine. 'Malcolm, you can't be happy being the way you are. Together, with God's help, we can change that. Wouldn't you like to have friends?'

'I've got friends.'

'Friend. One. Freddy.'

'And Francis and Tommy, Pat, Victor, Glen, Brenda, Douglas, lots. I've got plenty of friends. At camp I had five really good friends. One of them came to see me for Thanksgiving.'

'That's not what I hear, Malcolm.'

'That's another lie you heard. Why don't you ask the kids in my class?'

The frustration was growing in his voice. Probably nobody ever challenged him before, especially an eleven year old.

'Do you have a girl friend, Malcolm. Lots of boys in sixth grade have girl friends.'

'I just turned eleven three months ago. I'm too young. I'm the youngest kid in my class. Most of them are twelve.'

'You've got an answer for everything except your eternal soul, Malcolm. You need to pray, ask your Blessed Mother to open your mind up and realize what a big mistake you are making. Let's pray together.'

He got on his knees and pulled me down with him. He poured out a series of 'Mary help this poor boy' and 'May the Holy Spirit open his mind' and every bad line from every bad sermon I'd ever heard.

Tommy was surprised to see me so soon.

'That was quick?'

'I think I pissed him off.' I told him what had happened.

'Wish I coulda watched.'

We walked toward Benson's. I owed him a candy bar at least.

'What if he asks the others about me' I said Pat and Victor were my friends, you too.'

'Hey, Malcolm, ever since you came to school that time last year after your old man beat the shit outta you, we all know how tough you are. Most kids act the way you do are real sissies. Just 'cause we don't always hang with you doesn't mean we don't like you. You've got lots of friends. Anybody asks, we'll all stand up for you. Promise.'

I could have cried. He put his arm over my shoulder.

'It isn't just because of, you know, up in the classroom?' I asked.

'Haven't I always stood up for you when the others were being jerks' Way before the other day?'

I put my arm over his shoulder. I had a nickel. I bought him a Nestle's Crunch, his favorite.

My father was furious when he came home early.

'What do you think you are accomplishing by lying to a priest. My God, boy, to a priest. You think he can't tell when you're lying'

'Lying about what' I didn't lie about anything.' Lie and deny.

'You want to go through life like this?'

'Like what?'

'Like you are.'

'How am I?'

'Just go to your room. You're not going anywhere tomorrow, boy, not until you start, start making yourself into a decent human being.'

'Tomorrow's my day to see Freddy. You said that.'

'But you have to behave and you're not.'

'What did I do wrong?'

'You lied to a priest.'

'I did not lie. What did I lie about' You can't punish me for something I didn't do.'

'I can do whatever I see fit, young man. Go to your room and don't come out until it's time to go to school.'

I went to the kitchen where my mother was preparing dinner. 'You see. Nothing has changed. I do nothing wrong. I get punished. You're the one who wants to be with him. How come I do to?'

'Get the hell up those stairs, boy!' My father had come in behind me.

Mother brought me my dinner. Angry as I was, I would stick to the plan. Let him do what he wanted. They couldn't prove I lied about anything. They could put me face to face with Philip. It was his word against mine. And he was bigger. It was easier for me to say he forced me than the other way around. And I knew he liked it, loved it. He went crazy those two times on my bed. He was as big a fag as me. He just didn't act it. But he knew I knew. He wouldn't say anything. If he did, I was tougher and would last longer. He'd slip, say the wrong thing. I could win this. I just had to keep my control.

After school, I went quickly to Freddy's to tell him what had happened and that he should come to the barn after eleven Saturday. I was home a little after three thirty. Mother was there with a friend. I walked through the front hall to show myself and went up to my room.

I read, listened to the radio, and did my exercises. I was getting stronger. In two to three years, I expected to be able to beat my father physically. The thought spurred me on to forty-two pushups and new records across the board. I went to dinner dripping sweat.

'Working out?' asked my father.

'Yes.'

'Are you ready to be straight with Father Simons?'

I caught the potential for a great comeback but let it go. No conflict. Game plan. 'I already was.'

'You know I can't let you out until you start telling the truth.'

'I told the truth.'

'Look's like you're in for the weekend.'

'You are breaking the promises you made. You lied.'

There was silence for who knows how long. I could feel his anger. I enjoyed it. I was being cool. He was ready to blow his stack. I broke the silence by cutting off a piece of chicken.

'No, you're not going to turn this around. You're in until you tell the truth to Father Simons. That means tomorrow and Sunday you stay right here inside the house.'

'No, sir! That means you lied.'

He stood up suddenly. I had my knife and fork in my hand. If he touched me, I would use them. I put both down and put my hands in my lap. I'd been hit before. I could handle it.

'We'll see how long you can keep this crap up in your room.'

I went back to eating. He went upstairs.

Mother said, 'Why are you doing this, dear?'

'I'm not doing anything. He is.'

'Why won't you tell Father Simons the truth?'

'I did.'

'Dear, I remember Philip. He wasn't anything like you. Why would?'

'Because I act the way I act, I'm a liar. You ever think about how much bigger he was than me' I forced him?'

'Dear, I remember a conversation you and I had during which you admitted feeling like a homosexual.'

'You tell my father that?'

She sighed. 'No.'

'You shouldn't. That was between us.'

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. I went to my room. An idea struck me as I passed the knife case. I took out the biggest one and put it in a drawer. That ought to make them worry a little, I thought.

In my room, I worked out again, took a bath and went to bed.

Saturday morning, my father left at ten. Mother had to stay and watch me. I walked to the living room with my coat on and stared at her.

'I'm going out. I'll be back before three.'

It was a challenge for her to stand up for what she had promised. I figured she wouldn't say anything. If I was wrong, I'd tell her father and shame her. If I was wrong, it would cost me but probably no more than I was already in line for.

Freddy was behind the barn. I looked back. My mother was standing in the picture window watching me. I walked to the bottom of the property and down toward the intersection. Freddy hustled down to the street. The moment I was out of sight of the house, I motioned for him to wait. Squatting low, I ran back up the street, shielded by the steep hill at the bottom of our property. We worked on our secret hideaway and had lunch at his aunt's house.

I told him all that had happened, including what Tommy had said, and my determination to stay in control.

'That priest is a son-of-a-bitch too. But he can't prove I'm lying.'

'He don' hafta, Malcolm. He a priest. People gon', shit, people are going to believe what he says. Why don' you say somethin' so he thinks you are doin' what he wants.'

'That's it, Freddy! Shit! I should have thought of this right from the start. What do priests like' People praying and going to church.' I had been about to comment on his improving grammar but the praying in church idea grabbed my complete attention.

'You gonna go to church.' He was smiling.

'Everyday. And pray that God will help him see I'm telling the truth.'

We danced around the dead campfire.

I had first thought to start the next morning after Mass but became so enthused I went straight there. For a while, I was the only one in the church. Then a half dozen people came in for a baptism. Father Lindenhal appeared to perform the ceremony. I knelt in a pew near the front and looked as devout as I could.

After the baptism, which only took about ten minutes, Father Lindenhal came over and sat beside me.

'Malcolm, what are you doing in here?'

'Father Simons doesn't believe anything I tell him even though everything I said was the truth.'

'So, what are you doing here' Waiting to talk to him' He's in the rectory

taking a nap.'

'No, I'm just asking God to make him believe me. God knows I'm not lying.'

'What's he say you're lying about?'

I told him everything we'd discussed including Philip's accusations from a year and a half before. 'How could I force Philip to do something when he's bigger than me, a lot bigger' And he says I haven't got any friends. You know I have friends.'

'Well, I know about Freddy and that boy from eighth grade, Frank Stilling, I think.

'Uh huh and Tommy Atkins and Pat O'Riley. They're altar boys so you know them and they're my friends.'

He promised to speak to Father Simons but wasn't sure he'd be of any help. 'They weren't too happy with me last year. I'm not supposed to be talking to you.'

'Why?'

'Sister Margaret and I were the only ones, well, you know what I said. We probably shouldn't be talking about this. I've got to get back to work.'

Sister Margaret, I thought. She had been a friend.

My father was waiting for me when I got home.

'I told you not to leave the house.'

'I needed to go to church.'

'Boy, you never stop! Go to you room.'

'Now I can't even go to church?'

'You were no more in church than I was. Go to your room now!

'Ask Father Lindenhal.'

He stared at me angrily but uncertainty entered his eyes. It was good as punching him in the nose.

His expression softened. He almost grinned. 'You think because of how I feel about him I won't call' You thought wrong. Don't move from this spot.'

That was an order I couldn't obey.I waited until he reached the top of the stairs then ran quietly after him. He closed the door to his den. I pressed my ear against the door. He dialed.

'Is Father Simons in?' 'Yes, please.' A few moments silence.

'Father Simons, Henry Lloyd. I hate to bother you with this but you know I have to keep track. Malcolm says he was in church this afternoon and saw Father Lindenhal. Do you?' 'Uh huh.' 'Yes.' 'That is, a.' 'Of course, right after Mass.' 'Yes, Father. Good bye.'

I jumped the banister and slid down the railing. He found me where he'd left me. I tried to look bored while doing mental headstands.

'All right. For once, you weren't lying. But I told you not to leave the house. Go to your room and think about that.'

There was no way he could have angered me at that point.

Stewart served our Mass. We winked and waved. It was doubtful I'd be allowed out to see him. During Father Simons sermon, I pointed to myself and shook my head. He frowned and shrugged his shoulders.

The sermon was about the sanctity of the confessional and the importance of emptying our minds of all that would get in the way of a close relationship with Our Savior and his Blessed Mother. I listened because I was sure it would be referred to at our counseling session the following day.

After Mass, my mother drove me home. My father stayed behind after telling my mother to go ahead and eat without him. I assumed he'd be meeting with Father Simons.

After breakfast, my mother told me to wait for my father to see if I could go out. I went to my room and did exercises. I expected more than just a yes or no when my father returned but was wrong.

'Where are you going?' he asked when I made my request to go out.

'To see who's at Benson's and see my friend.'

'Who's your friend?'

'Just a kid who lives down by the lumber yard.'

'I want you back here for lunch.'

'What if he wants me to eat lunch at his house.'

'Then call.'

'I don't think he has a telephone.'

'Then come back here and ask permission.'

'That's far.'

'That's the way it is.'

I grabbed my coat and ran down the back to the street and down to the streetcar turnaround. There I hid behind a car and a tree and watched to see who would follow me this time. No one came. I was tempted to just cross over the bridge and go down to the stream but Freddy wouldn't be back from his church for another couple hours. I walked the two blocks to Stewart's.

He beamed when he saw me and waved me over. 'My uncle's gone away on a job. Won't be back fer a couple weeks. Just me and my sister and she works days. We don't gotta stay here. Ain't nobody gonna steal nothin' outta this dump.'

My first thought was the stream but Freddy's admonition not to bring around anyone from this racist neighborhood made me think elsewhere. It was mild, near the upper fifties.

'Wanna walk down the tracks some.'

'Sure,' he said with a smile, 'which way?'

I wanted woods. 'Out toward the lake?'

He put his arm over my shoulder and off we went. He told me about seeing three men come flying by on the tracks on a cart with a handle they pushed up and down. 'Might be working out that way. Mebbe they'll let us sit on their cart.'

His shoulder didn't feel as boney as before. I gripped his arm. He was still thin but had some muscle there. I was curious how his dick had changed. The plan was to get us to pee together. The problem was I didn't need to.

With Stewart talking about rumors some hobo had been killed out this way a few months before, we walked out of sight of civilization. Ahead was a bridge over a stream that joined Freddy's and my stream not far from Stewart's house. The sound of water helped me pee. A doctor taught me that once when he needed a sample of my urine and I could produce any. It had worked there.

'Let's go down by the water.'

Stewart was a follower. We sat on the bank and threw stones at rocks. I got frustrated.

'I think I gotta pee.' I stood up, opened my belt and pants and stood there with my dick in my hand. 'Don't you wanna pee too?'

'I'll try but ain't nothin' comin' outta yers yet.'

He stood and unzipped his fly. Once again, he had to reach in and dig out

what he had inside. The difference was what he pulled out. It seemed nearly as long as Francis' almost man cock though not as thick. But where Francis voice had done some serious deepening, Stewart still sounded like he did three years before at ten. And, Stewart was uncircumcised. The head barely peeked out. I couldn't take my eyes off it.'

'Damn, Malcolm, what are you lookin' at?'

'You got bigger.'

'You didn't,' he chuckled.

'Anything come out when you jerk off?'

'Nah.'

'Wanna do it?'

'You still always thinkin' 'bout sex.'

'C'mon. There's nobody around here. Or we can go back in the bushes and trees.'

He sighed. 'Okay.'

Someone had dumped trash back in where we were. Stewart picked an empty paint can to sit on. I sat on a broken limb. I had to convince him to drop his pants to his thighs.

'It's cold, Malcolm.'

'Not that cold and you can't do it like that.'

His whole body was more fleshed out than before but still thin,

undernourished. His skin was the color of milk.

The paint can was so cold it made him jump off it the minute his bare buns made contact. He found a piece of cardboard and put it on top.

He was hard as fast as I. Rather than masturbate, he massaged it while looking at me wanking mine.

'Malcolm, are you, I mean, you a fag like my uncle said?'

I smiled timidly. 'Kinda, yes.'

He continued staring then, 'Do you do stuff like they do?'

'Like what?'

'You know, like givin' up brown eye and blowin', like that.'

'If you want.' I had no idea what 'brown eye' was.

'No, I didn't say I wanted, just, well, do you?'

I nodded. He continued to massage and stare. My cock was going to explode from anticipation. 'Want me to suck yours' I'll do it.'

Stewart took a breath. 'I s`pose so. Want me ta stand up?'

'It's better if you lie down, over here in the leaves where it's

comfortable.'

He stood and pulled his pants up to walk. I pulled him down and lowered his pants to his thighs. His cock was easily four inches long. His foreskin was stretched tightly around the flare of his glans. His grape sized balls hung well below it in a sack I wanted to suck into my mouth. He lay back and put his hands behind his head. I lay up between his legs on top of his pants, with mine still at half mast, and examined the base of his cock with my tongue. There were soft hairs growing above and below. I sucked in his balls and rolled the plump orbs around between my cheek and tongue. I opened wide to keep them inside and take in his pecker too. It was a bit salty but hard and delicious. I let go of his testicles and moved up and down his shaft. I pushed my hands under his buns. They were still boney but there was some meat too.

I felt his hand touch the top of my head each time I lifted off him. This was a great sucking cock but I wanted it elsewhere. I raised my now cold buns and moved them back and forth in hopes of creating desire. It worked.

He sat up and reached for my butt, kneading it between his fingers. I made sure he was well lubed and got off him and onto my hands and knees. Words were unnecessary. He got up and waddled in behind me. His pants caught on my shoes then stretched across my legs making it difficult to stay upright.

He said 'shit' and sat down. Quickly, he tugged off one shoe without untying it and pulled his leg out, turning his pants leg inside out. This time his cock head went straight into my crack. I reached back and pulled my cheeks open. I felt him push the head to my pucker and nudge inside. It hurt like he was too dry.

'Put more spit on it,' I told him.

He complied, pulling out to the tip and dripping saliva he spread with his fingers. He pushed back in.

'That okay?'

It was. His knees adjusted forward and he pushed completely in me, striking my sweet spot, his warm pelvis against my cold ass. He went in and out. I let go of my buns and grabbed his thighs. He gripped my ribs and began thrusting, hard at first then slower and gentler. I hoped he was going for longer pleasure because I was feeling great. His cock bumped my prostate and massaged my anus each time he pushed forward. He began thrusting harder and holding himself full inside for a second before withdrawing.

'When you get ready to cum, jerk me off,' I asked.

He stopped for a moment. 'Can't you do that?'

'Okay.' Not everybody wanted to touch my cock.

'Tell me when you're gonna cum.'

'Okay,' he answered.

That settled; Stewart started fucking me again, same as when he'd stopped, nearly slamming in each time then holding it before going again. I moved my rear side to side, making his cock wobble back and forth inside me. I loved that feeling.

'It's getting' real good,' he said.

I reached for my wiener and worked it slowly. Stewart kept fucking, maintaining speed and style. I tried to revolve my ass up and down to create even more movement inside.

'That's good. Keep doin' that.'

'Brown eye' popped back into my mind. It had to be what we were doing.

Stewart's hands slid down to my hips. He was pulling out to the tip and punching me forward. I let go of his thighs and put my free hand under my head.

'Almost,' he said with a strain.

My cock was right on the edge. I gave it a pull and came.

'Oh,' he said, 'now!'

He rammed in and pulled on my hips, his cock going thump, thump, thump inside me.

'Don't let it come out, I'm gonna lie down.'

I slowly flattened to the ground. Stewart followed me down but stayed up on his outstretched arms. He slid forward and pumped in a few more times.

'Okay, I'm done.' He pulled out.

I rolled to look. He was examining his cock, probably for brown spots, but didn't seem to find any. He pulled his pants leg back through and put it on.

'I never done that before. It was pretty good but next time we gotta do it where it's warmer.'

'Wanna do it again next week?'

'Mebbe, if I can. Where?'

'I can bring a blanket and we can do it here. I got a back pack from cub scouts.'

We sat back by the stream. I asked him what his uncle had told him about me.

He smiled and tossed a pebble into the stream. 'Just what we did.'

'Whatta you mean?'

'He said you like playing with other people's privates and lettin' 'em

fuck you.'

'That all?'

'He said you were unnatural and could make me like you if I stayed around you too much. That's stupid. We got one like you in my class fer eight years and ain' nobody got like him. I was gonna do it with you then but you never come back. That's why I was always trying to talk to you at Mass.'

'I thought you were just, you know, being friendly.'

'Nah, I wanted to talk to you but you always just left with yer mother and

father.'

My frustration at not recognizing his signals was offset by my piqued curiosity about his classmate. 'That kid in your class ever do anything with anybody?'

'I dunno. They say he does but I never seen nothin'. One kid says he fucks him every week but he might be lying. You do anything with the kids in yer school?'

'A little.'

'You let 'em do what we did?'

'Sometimes.'

He tossed a few more pebbles. 'We can come out here next week if you want.'

'You ever try to do something with that kid in your class?'

'Nah. If a kid talks a lot ta him, the others'll say he's a queer baits and stuff. My uncle ever hears that and he says he'll drown me in the creek. He'd do it to.'

'What about the kid that says he fucks him all the time' Don't they bother him?'

'Nah, he's too big. He'd kick their ass.'

'Does Father Simons bother that boy?'

'Which one?'

'The one that likes what I like.'

'I never seen nothin. But Stevie, that's his name, don't take much with

church. I ain't seen him at Mass fer years. The sisters are on him about that. He says they don' like what he is so he don' like them.'

'Where's Stevie live?'

'Out the road past your school. His father works on some farm out there and they live there too.'

'I'm gonna be near your school tomorrow after classes to see Father

Simons. Will you tell Stevie I wanna meet him 'cause I really do.'

I was sure being seen with him by Father Simons or one of the nuns could be a problem so asked Stewart to see if Stevie could meet me up the road from the rear entrance of my school. The road there made a turn along side a patch of woods. We could go in back into the trees to talk. Stewart promised to tell him but wasn't sure he would show up.

It was getting on time for me to show up for lunch so we headed back. I promised to see him again and bring a blanket. Stewart promised to speak with Stevie.

Rather than have to make up a fake lunch with a fake kid that might be found out, I ate the sandwiches my mother prepared.

My father was in his den working on some drawings at his drafting table. He wanted to know where I was going.

'I've never been very far up the hill. Maybe I'll meet someone.'

He didn't seem to like the idea but waved me off.

I walked up the street two blocks then, sure I wasn't being followed, cut

down to the street that passed the bottom end of our property and went to Freddy's. It was nearly two o'clock.

'Where ya been?' he asked. We worked on our hideout for a while then did our exercises followed by more digging.

'We so wet all ovah, I ain' gonna need no spit to git right up yo' pretty ass.'

He was wrong. Sweat was a lousy lubricant. He spit on his cock and went inside. I waited for a remark about someone having been there before him, but, for the first time in memory, he didn't seem to notice.

At lunch on Monday, Tommy Atkins and Pat O'Riley made sure I ate with them, 'my friends', on the plaza steps.

I was fully prepared for the final bell when it rang and was the first one out the door, still buttoning up my coat. Stewart waited for me about fifty yards up from the rear school entrance. He was alone.

As I neared him, he backed into the trees.

'Didn't Stevie want to come?' I asked.

'Yeah,' said Stewart, 'he's back there across the creek.'

I looked and immediately spotted a tall, thin boy a bit taller but with the same shape as Glenn Harrison from my class. He was peering out from behind a tree.

Stewart said, 'You go on, I gotta git home. See ya Sunday.'

I walked back, smiling, trying to look as friendly as possible.

'You're Malcolm?' he asked with his changing voice. I guessed him to be thirteen. He could have been Glenn's brother except he didn't have Glenn's big nose or nasal voice.

'Hi.' I held out my hand. He took it but didn't shake it, just held it for a bit.

'You're younger than I thought. Stewart said you were in sixth grade.'

'I am but I just turned eleven in November. How old are you?'

'I'll be fourteen in March. You wanna sit down. There's an old tree over there.' He pointed to a long dead pine. We sat on it. I noticed his speech was something like a girl's though more so. I wondered if I sounded like that.

I struggled with a question or remark that would open the door to the conversation I wanted to have. I only had about fifteen minutes before I needed to get to the rectory and my appointment with Father Simons.

Stevie opened the gate for me. 'So you like boys too.'

'Uh huh.' I had no ready follow up but he was older.

'You do it with kids from your school?'

'Uh huh. You too?'

'A couple, few. What to you like to do most' I love to suck on a big cock but most of the ones in my school aren't very big.'

'I do that and other things too.'

'Well, there's not much more you can do but get fucked. You like to get

fucked?'

'Mmm hmm. You?'

'Oh, it's okay but I like to suck more. Their cocks are so small. I'll bet yours is really tiny.'

'Not that tiny. About like this.' I help up my index finger.

'Well, I wouldn't even feel you. Some of the big boys in your school look like they have big ones. Do you know any of the boys with really big cocks?'

I thought of Francis. 'I know one that's kinda big but not all that big.'

'There's only one boy in my school with one that's big enough for me. He's kind of a bully but, God, he fucks good.'

'Where do you do it?'

'Oh, all over. Best place lunchtime is the sacristy unless there's some

special Mass. We just have to be quiet. How big are the boys who fuck you?'

'Not all that big. Big ones hurt.'

'Don't worry, couple of years and you'll be able to take a baseball bat up

your ass. God knows, I could.'

'Stevie, I gotta go. Father Simons is expecting me.'

'Ooo! Watch out for that man. He's a nasty bitch. He wanted to save my soul a few years ago. I told him to go fly a kite. He tried to get my father to make me see him but he's hard of hearing and didn't know what the bitch was talking about. My mother doesn't like religious people so she won't talk to him. Only reason I'm in the school is because it's close and free. You be careful what you say to that man.'

Stevie said he could see me Wednesday if I wanted but had to go home early Tuesdays and Thursdays to help his mother with some baked goods she sold three times a week.

Father Simons seemed friendlier than during our last session. 'Father Lindenhal told me he saw you in church Saturday. Any new thoughts you'd like to share with me?'

I shrugged my shoulders.

'I suppose I shouldn't ask this, and you certainly don't have to answer, but what were you praying about?'

'That everybody would stop calling me a liar when I'm not.'

The priest sat back and pursed his pudgy lips.

'May I take off my tie?' I asked.

'Of course.'

I lifted my collar in the back and unclipped it.

'Malcolm, let's try to be honest with one another. If you don't have sexual thoughts about other boys why do you think you act like you do' I mean, you know you are very different from the other boys.'

'I don't think I am.'

'Don't you think you act a little girlish?'

'No.'

'Just the way you said 'no'. That's the way a girl says it.'

I shrugged my shoulders.

'Why do you think you act that way?'

'I don't act any special way. I suppose I might be a little different.

Everybody's a little different.'

'But wouldn't you like to be, act like other normal boys?'

'How am I supposed to act?'

'Like a boy, not a girl.'

I frowned and shook my head.

'Malcolm, something has happened to you that has made you act this way and what you and I need to do is work on your mind so you can be normal like the rest of the boys in your class. Prayer is a good start. If you let Christ into your soul, I mean really let him in, he will help you throw off this burden you carry.'

'What burden?'

'Malcolm, the burden of homosexuality.'

'Father, I don't like boys that way. You just think I do 'cause some kid lied about me a long time ago. Ask anybody. I don't do that kind of stuff.'

'What would happen if I brought that boy here and had him standing in front of you' You couldn't lie to him. He knows. What would you say then?'

'Same thing I said before. We did some stuff. I didn't wanna and I confessed it and never did it again.'

He got back into his spiel about God knowing what was on my mind and how the Bible prohibits homosexual acts. But he didn't seem quite as sure of himself as he had been the previous week.

Nonetheless, I envisioned a distinct possibility of being confronted with Philip.

After the session, I went to the church and knelt near the altar for a while, hoping to be noticed, and thinking about how to handle Philip if he appeared. Much as I hated to admit it, the church was a nice place to think clearly. The atmosphere seemed to open up my mind and eliminate distractions.

In the morning, Tommy said he, Pat and Bradley had decided that I should hang with them as much as possible so they could be 'character witnesses for you against Father Simons'.

Pat O'Riley, it turned out, hated Father Simons for scaring him with 'that crap about jerking off being a mortal sin. I talked to Father Lindenhal and he said not to worry about it.'

'Did he say it was okay?' I asked.

'No. I asked him but he just kept saying that nobody's going to hell for masturbation.'

'So we're all safe,' said Bradley with a smile. 'Now, we just gotta get a

dispensation for fucking.'

Everybody laughed. For a moment, I wondered if he was talking about me until Pat remarked, 'If she'd let me, I'd sin with Virginia. I don't know what she sees in you, Bradley.'

'How about handsome and a nice cock?' He ran his fingers through his blond hair, opened wide his blue eyes, then grabbed his crotch. I heard no change in his voice so doubted he was carrying that much baggage.

Francis disappeared at lunchtime then reappeared just at the bell looking very content. I didn't get a chance to ask him about it. Tommy and I had lunch in the classroom.

Once again, I asked if he'd like to fuck me but he said he liked blow jobs better. Since I was fairly sure he'd never fucked anyone, the message was clear. One thing I was sure he did like was my hands caressing his torso while I sucked him. He took off his shirt and lay on it but just lowered his pants. The view up his chest coupled with the feel of his fattening cock in my mouth and his body under my hands nearly got me off. He was more passionate, writhing slowly under me.

That afternoon, Freddy was as concerned as I about Father Simons producing Philip. 'Onliest thing you can do is just lie and deny. Anything he say, you just say he's lying.' He didn't help my self respect much by finally beating me at pushups, doing forty-three to my forty-two then knocking off one hundred sit ups and thirty-four of our new, more difficult leg raises. I worked out again that night interspersing exercises with homework.

Wednesday after school, Stevie waited for me on the sidewalk then led us back into the woods. I had to be home by three thirty to do chores though I was sure another fifteen or twenty minutes wouldn't be a problem. Only my mother would be home. Stevie wanted to hear more about the eighth graders in my school. I wanted to see his cock.

'Don't you ever get to do anything too?' I asked.

'Like what?'

'Like fuck one of them or something?'

'Those hillbillies won't even let you touch their asses. Forget about fucking them.'

'Do they at least jerk you off when they cum?'

'Oh, Malcolm. You've got a lot to learn. You've gotta do your self 'cause they aren't going to anything but stick their cocks in you. Unless, of course, you think you can handle mine. I'll suck that little thing of yours until you scream for mercy.'

'Lemme see your dick.'

Stevie flipped open his belt, opened his pants and pushed them down. His slim body and small amount of brown pubic hair probably made it look bigger than it was but I was sure he was more than I wanted to try.

I frowned.

'Too big, huh. I thought so. We should have known each other a couple of years ago. I'd have made you very happy. We could suck each other, you know. You ever been sucked?'

'Mmm hmm.'

'You're lucky. Never happened with me. My dog licks it but that's all. But you just say when.'

'Friday?'

'Where?'

'I dunno. You know better than me.'

'All right. Come to my school at three on Friday.'

'I can't. What if Father Simons sees me with you.'

'Let me worry about that. Just go into the church and I'll find you.'

Thursday afternoon, when I arrived at the rectory at three twenty, Father Simons was speaking with another priest I'd never seen before. He was taller, older, in his upper fifties as opposed to Simons who probably hadn't hit the half century mark yet. Father Simons introduced us.

'How do you do, Malcolm, it's very nice to meet you.' It sounded as though he expected to meet me, would be part of the day's session. Were they ganging up on me'

We walked into the office. There in front of the desk sat Philip. He stood. He was nearly a head taller but it was him. He seemed as shocked to see me, as I was to see him, maybe more so. The shock changed quickly to anger, then

fury.

'You said?' He glared at the two priests. 'Why is he here?' he asked

pointing at me.

'Philip,' said Father Simons calmly, 'we are all here to help our friend Malcolm confront his demons. You are here?'

Philip was looking at me. He interrupted the new priest. 'Malcolm. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble.' He grabbed the hair on the side of his head and looked back at the priest who had brought him. 'You, you bastard!'

He stormed out of the room before either of the men could get to him. His priest walked out after him. I chased him and helped push out the main door.

He spoke as he trotted down the concrete walk. 'Be careful, Malcolm. They are bad people. You were right.'

'Wait, Philip. Can I come see you' I still know where your house is.'

'You better not. I don't know what I'm going to do but something. If you want. Bastard! Lying bastard! That priest, not you. You can come if you want but you better find out what they're trying to do first. He never let me forget what we did a long time ago. I just did it that one time. Damn, you sure were right. I should have listened.'

We were at the streetcar turnaround, waiting with two women. He pulled me toward a wall.

'What did they tell you about me?' he asked.

'Just that you said we did some stuff and that it was all my idea.'

'Oh, God! I'm sorry, Malcolm.'

'Did you say that?'

'Sort of, yes. I'm sorry. Oh, God.' He squatted against the wall, his face in his hands.

I remembered the other Philip at the YMCA camp and how I covered myself by laying it all on him. It still bothered me. I wished I could apologize to him. This Philip had just apologized to me. I put my arm over his shoulder. I felt his body shudder like he was crying.

'It's okay, Philip. Screw them. I blamed you when Father Simons told me what you said. So we're even.'

'No we're not. If I hadn't said anything to that bastard, this wouldn't be happening. I'm sorry.' His changing voice cracked as he spoke. He slipped down the wall and sat on the ground. Two women were watching us. I glared at them and they turned their heads.

A streetcar came.

'Are you going to be home Saturday?' I asked.

'Maybe punished. No, please don't come. They'll find out who you are and we'll both, oh, I don't know. I still have your phone number. Maybe I'll call you one day. Bye, Malcolm. I'm really sorry.'

I walked slowly back to the rectory tortured by guilt and increasingly angry at the priest with Father Simons who was probably the one who had told Philip that I was an occasion of sin for him, had ruined our friendship. The two of them watched me come in and sit. It dawned on me that Philip's apology in front of them exonerated me from the only evidence they had, other than my effeminacy. I said nothing.

Philip's priest said, 'I'm afraid I owe you an apology too for any difficulties my report to Father Simons caused you.'

I shook my head, unable to look at the man without saying something that would certainly have gotten me into trouble.

Father Simons walked into the hall with him. He came back some minutes later and sat at his desk.

'Why did you go after that boy' According to you, he lied about you, accused you of being a homosexual.'

'Because he said he was sorry. Now you've gotta say you're sorry too.'

'Do I' Was he lying' Or was he apologizing for telling on you?'

I stared at him. He wasn't going to give up. Well, neither was I. 'He told me he said that stuff about me because he was scared.'

'About what?'

'He didn't say.'

'What do you think he was frightened of?'

'I don't know. Maybe priests who wouldn't believe anything he said and would blame him for things that weren't true.'

I stared him in the eye. He looked back, then down at his desk. I had the son-of-a-bitch.

'May I go?'

'Why don't we pray first.'

'I'm going to the church. I'll pray there. I'm believed in there.'

'All right. I'll see you Monday.'

I walked to the church. I wanted to feel victorious but the pain I'd seen in Philip kept my spirit down. He was just like me. They made him feel terrible about it, made him think he was bad for wanting to do what I did. Bastards!

At dinner, I told my mother and father what had happened, doing my best not to overstate anything but still make the priests look as bad as possible. When I told them how Philip had apologized for saying what he did, that he had been afraid to say anything different, I stared into my father's eyes though he wasn't looking at mine.

'I don't want to go back with him any more. All he does is call me a liar even though I'm not and he has no proof that I am.'

'Malcolm, Philip's just one matter, and he didn't say that you didn't do anything. He was probably just apologizing for telling on you.'

Father Simons and my father had been talking.

'So what am I lying about' Name one lie.'

'You say you don't like boys sexually but look at you. You're like a neon sign saying 'homosexual'.'

'Find one boy who says I did any sex with him. Find one!'

'I don't know whether you have had any sex with a boy but I'm sure you'd like to. We're just trying to help you change that so you can live a normal life.'

'That's the stupidest thing I ever heard! So now you can read my mind?'

'Calm down, boy. You will speak to me with respect or I'll teach it to you.'

'I wanna go to my room. May I leave the table?'

'No, you may not. You will eat your dinner and listen to what I have to say and answer my questions in a respectful way.'

I felt my self control slipping and tried to concentrate on my food.

'Now, you are going to continue with Father Simons until you can admit your problem and start dealing with it. No son of mine is going out into the world?' I could see his hands clenched into fists. 'You are going to?' He sighed. 'What I said stands.'

After two more bites of food, he went to his room. He was really pissed.

Mother begged me to show more respect.

'How can I respect someone who can't admit when he's wrong. Every time I'm right, like when he said I didn't go to church but I did and now about Philip, I'm still wrong. I wanna go back with granddad. He believes me and he loves me.'

'Dear, you know he's not going to allow that.'

If she said more, I didn't hear it. I went to my room and again split homework and bodywork. Before going to bed, I walked naked into my parent's bathroom to flex my muscles in the full length mirror there. I turned myself on.

Friday morning, Tommy Atkins pulled me aside. I expected an invitation to lunch.

'I served this morning at the convent. Simons said the Mass and after tried to act like he was just talking but he was asking about you. Like he asked who I was hanging with these days and mentioned Pat and Bradley 'cause he knows we've been friends a long time. Right off, I said you and Martin were always with us too. He wanted to know for how long so I said a couple years. Then he asks how I get along with you then the others, who is your best friend in the group. I said we were all sort of equal. Then he asked if we all had girl friends. I knew what he was doing so I said not really. He's checking you out. What happened?'

I told him the entire saga of Philip and me and how upset Philip had been when he found out he was being used to get at me. I didn't tell him enough to know Philip was like me. That was between us.

As we walked out for recess, Francis admitted he'd been with a girl the day before and had received a great blow job after almost convincing her to let him screw her.

'I had my finger up there and she was really thinking about it. Problem is she really is a virgin and I think the first fuck gets bloody. I wish she'd do it with somebody else first, then we can do it, no problems.'

It was cold that day. Our group huddled by the open boiler room window, soaking up the warm air drifting out it. When Pat made a comment about Sally McNamara being friendly of late, I asked Bradley, 'The truth, Bradley, you fuck Virginia Bailey yet' A kid told me this morning that you did.' I suspected it was Virginia servicing Francis. Hers was the name mentioned most frequently. I hardly knew any of the girls at all.

Bradley grinned and made us wait for his answer. 'Who said that?'

'I promised not to say.'

'C'mon, Malcolm. Just between us.'

'No, I promised.'

'Well?' asked Pat.

Again, he made us wait. 'No, not yet, but soon. Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it when I do.'

It was telling that in all the talk of girl friends, no one ever asked me about who I might be interested in.

After school, I found Stevie in a pew by the church's rear side door. With a quick glance my way, he nodded at me to follow him. He went back into the vestibule and up the stairs to the balcony. I was thinking he was nuts until he used a key to open a door beside the organ console. Inside were the backs of the larger organ pipes. He locked the door behind us. With a flair, he pulled what appeared to be a table cloth out from under his coat and flung it open on the floor. He began a slow in place dance as he took off his coat, shoes and the rest of his clothes. I smiled and stripped bare too. Physically, he was almost a young man complete with pubic hair but none yet under his arms. His cock, which came out of his underwear nearly erect, was well over five inches long. Almost golf ball sized testicles hung below.

My cock was somewhat bloated but definitely not erect.

He lay on the cloth and invited me to lie on top of him. He put his arms around me and looked into my eyes. 'A kiss?' he whispered.

I grinned and gave him one. He wanted more and sucked in my lips. At first, I allowed it then began to get into the act. It was almost like it had been those two times with Philip though not nearly as frantic. Our heads turned, mouths opened, tongues crossed over. His hands ran up and down my back, to my hair, down to my ass and thighs, and back. We alternately sucked each other's tongue and lips.

My cock was fully erect, ready. I felt his between my legs. One of his hands pressed it between my cheeks. I hoped he didn't expect insertion.

He pushed my face off his, his eyes on mine and said, 'Suck me.'

I turned about, putting my crotch in his face. His cock head was damp with pre-cum. I took it in and sucked on the uncircumcised tip. I felt him take in my entire crotch, balls and all, to halfway down my perineum.

He pushed on my head. I went as far down his shaft as I could without gagging. It filled my mouth, stretching my lips. He moved my cock and balls around in his mouth. I pumped gently. He put my cock under his tongue and let his top lip slide halfway to my rectum.

I went up and down on his, keeping my lips and tongue tight as possible, sucking hard. His feet pointed downward, the big toes together. His one hand continued to nudge my head downward. His other played with an ass cheek then fingered my hole. He pulled it away. I felt it slip into his mouth alongside my cock, be taken back out and pressed on my pucker. He pulled down then pushed inside, sliding slowly in to his knuckle. Entry was uncomfortable but he quickly found my prostate. He played with it a while then explored the walls of my rectum. I sucked harder, faster on him. I knew when he went back to my sweet spot, I'd climax.

His hips began moving up at me, his cock occasionally touching my epiglottis but not enough for a gag. His cock grew, hardened. His finger went back to my prostate and massaged it. I came. My legs clamped around his head. He embraced me tightly and pumped harder into my mouth. His cock continued to expand then fired spurt after spurt of potent sperm down my throat.

I swallowed fast as I could. It wasn't as nice tasting as Frankie's or Francis' but the idea was too erotic for me not to want him to keep cumming.

He held me firmly against him and rolled us onto our sides. He pulled back then pushed in again a few times, almost too far. We were both breathing heavily. His cock began to relax. Mine stayed hard. It seemed that the bigger a kid was, the faster his penis would deflate. Freddy and I could stay hard for what seemed like hours.

Stevie let go of my cock and said, 'God, I wish your hole was bigger.'

'I wish yours was smaller.'

He sat up. I joined him.

He said, 'Mine hasn't been small since I was seven.'

'Is that how old you were first time?'

'Not with a person. I used to stick things up there, carrots even with bacon fat for grease. Dickie Cole fucked me with I was nine. He was thirteen and had one like that.' He indicated five inches with his hands.'

'Shit! That must have hurt.'

'You bet your fanny it did but he gave me a quarter so I let him keep doing it. After a while, it didn't hurt any more. Then his brother Franklin did me. He was a year older and bigger. It hurt again and he didn't give me a quarter.'

'So why'd you let him?'

'I didn't want Dickie to stop. I was afraid if I said no to Franklin, then Dickie wouldn't be allowed to. Now, his little brothers Mark and Charley come out to the farm on weekends. Charley's only eleven and has one like yours but he still tries. I blow him most of the time. Wanna do this again?'

I looked at his cock. It hung smoothly between his legs, curving gently out of his body below his bush of pubic hair. I reached over to feel it. He opened his leg to let me. I'd never held a cock this size when it was so relaxed. Douglas' and Francis' were always at least partially inflated. Barney's was soft the time it fell out of Larry's little hole but I hadn't touched it. Stevie's had surprising weight. It molded nicely to my hand. The Cole boy's drifted back into my thoughts.

'The two boys, Mark and Charley, they go to your school?'

'Ha! Mark doesn't even go. His parents are so mean the social workers are afraid to go after them. Charley goes to public school up by your house, when he goes. I think he's in third grade. Failed twice.'

'How old is Mark?'

'He's around fourteen or fifteen, I think fourteen. He'd be about right for you, I suppose. His cocks not all that big, like this.' He held his hands a bit over four inches apart. 'But they're kind of nasty kids. They like to fight all the time. Got nice bodies, though. Charley's gonna be really built.'

'Think they be a problem for me' I mean fighting?'

'I don't know. Probably not but you gotta be careful. They think you have money and they might try to rob you, or your house.'

I figured to take them where Stewart and I went. 'Where do they live?'

'Other side of the tracks but you don't wanna go in there. You wanna see them, better let me ask first next time they come to the farm. Maybe we can fix it so you come out there to meet them. Then I could watch.'

A frightening thought hit me like a rock in the head. 'What's Charley look like?'

'He's shorter than you, has brown hair about like yours, kind of a squarish face. Nice in a hillbilly sort of way.'

'You ever hear stories about him and his brother beating up Negroes?'

'All of them down there do that. Mark and Charley and some others broke some nigger's arm last year when they caught him with some white boy. Broke it right off. The nigger and that white boy went to the church and Father Lindenhal took them to the hospital. Charley bragged about it for months. I was surprised they all didn't get locked up 'cause a that white kid being there too.'

Inside, I felt my blood turn to ice water. These were the boys who had attacked Freddy and me on the railroad tracks. And, apparently, Stevie wasn't at all bothered by it. I wanted out. I reached for my clothes.

'I gotta get home for chores.'

'You want me to fix it so you can meet Mark and Charley?'

'Nah, I don't think so. They sound like trouble.'

There were some thoughts of vengeance flitting around in my mind. Charlie was right near my house every day. I might have walked right past him though I was sure I'd have recognized him. The other faces were a blur, but not his. I'd always remember his face as he came up and kneed me in the groin. It was scary.

As we dressed, Stevie asked, 'So, you wanna do this again?'

At the time, I just wanted away from him and his connections. Stevie noticed my change of mood.

'What's wrong, Malcolm?'

'Nothing, I just gotta go home.' I felt a little anger building inside me.

'I'd like to see you again. We don't have to do any sex if you don't want to.'

His words hit me between the shoulder blades. I'd said almost the exact same thing to Philip that day in the park, the day he walked away from me. And the door closed then was still shut. Did I want that again' Two sets of emotions wrenched at me. A combination of anger and fright had been generated by his detached talk of what those boys had done to us. But I dreaded the loss of someone who genuinely understood my sexual desires, with whom I could freely discuss big cocks and what it felt having them jammed inside of me. But, he didn't seem to have any problem with what the Coles had done to Freddy and me and he saw them regularly.

'I'll send you a message with Stewart.'

He looked distraught when I left. I felt the way he looked but knew I couldn't face Freddy knowing I associated with someone who was close to those who had nearly killed him. It was a door that had to be closed.

Freddy was waiting at the stream by a fresh camp fire. He saw my distress from a distance. He felt it when I hugged him and didn't let go.

'What's wrong, Maacum?'

'I know the names of two of the boys that hurt us down on the tracks.'

'What happened?'

We sat close to the fire. He fed it sticks the thickness of Stevie's cock while I told him everything.

'Charley goes to school right up the hill. We probably pass him on our way to school.'

'I dunno. I think I'd know that motherfucker if I saw him.'

We needed each other to counter the horrible memories. There was no exercising, just gentle but complete love making. He even let me kiss his lips for a while, just pecks but he pursed his to meet mine.

The next few weeks went by with their ups and downs. Sessions with Father Simons continued with the same boring discussions plus instruction about the sacraments and other things I was already studying in Catechism. I complained about it to my mother but it didn't do any good.

I continued near daily after school stops at the church. Gradually, those

visits were more for the mental privacy they provided than the show they'd begun as.

My parents found a maid, a white woman named Adelaide. She wasn't the cold fish that Janet had been. She was very agreeable, so agreeable I suspected that, for her, saying no or even maybe must have been nearly traumatic. 'Peanut butter and jelly sounds great. How many would you like?' 'Wash the windows. Why I'd be very happy to.'

It was certain my father would ask her to report back about me but I got the impression she wasn't willing to say anything negative about anyone.

Freddy went four times a week to my grandmother's for help with his schoolwork. His then eight year old sister Missy joined him during the week. From the way he spoke, especially about my grandmother, I could tell he was becoming very fond of her. I only saw my grandparents once on a Sunday when they came for dinner. My father ate quickly and went to his den.

Baseball card tossing came into vogue with the onset of Spring training. I'd stolen nearly ten dollars from my parents since returning to the house, had nearly two dollars from before and had spent less than a dollar. There was plenty to buy bubble gum with baseball cards inside. Over one week, I bought thirty, scoring some middle and high value cards with the purchases. Best of all, over that same week, I came out ahead twelve cards including a Lou Gehrig.

Martin O'Malley was very interested and knew the players and card value but didn't have the money to buy cards so I gave him ten and a week later another six. We played as a team and did very well. Tommy wasn't as much into tossing as we and seemed a bit jealous of our relationship.

I blew Tommy at least once a week in the classroom, being as affectionate as allowed so he wouldn't think Martin was taking over his spot with me. It became clear Tommy wasn't interested in fucking. His friendship for me, despite Martin and I coupling for card tossing, did seem to grow. We talked more, about school, family and life in general. I think he enjoyed my curiosity about him. I know he enjoyed my hands rubbing him all over as I sucked his developing cock.

Francis was friendly but only asked for a trip to the bushes once and that was for a quick blow job after he'd been turned down by his girl friend.

The only dick up my rear was Freddy's. I yearned for something larger.

Freddy's birthday was on a Friday. A party was planned for Saturday afternoon. I begged my grandfather to let the two of us spend the night at his house. He finally agreed. That left getting my father to allow it. Naturally, he knew nothing of Freddy's birthday. What I didn't realize was that he was aware of Freddy's visit for tutoring.

Wednesday, without being asked, I did a major cleanup of the walks, driveway and hedges, finishing up after dark by the lights on the front and side porches. After a quick cleanup in the bathroom, I sat down to dinner. Halfway through the meal, I asked, 'May I stay at Granddad's Friday night' I hardly ever see them any more.'

'You can forget that and you know darn well why.'

At first, I didn't understand. 'Why?'

'You think I don't know about your grandmother and that ni.., Negro friend of yours?'

My heart sank. 'She's just teaching him. What's wrong with that' And I'm never there when he is.'

'Just be quiet and eat. You're not going over there.'

'That's wrong. They're my grandparents. I've got a right to see them. There's no reason?'

'There sure is. I say you're not going and that's that. Now shut up and eat.'

I looked at my mother. She was upset but her mouth was closed.

Freddy took it in stride. 'Whatta ya expect from that racist motherfucker.' Motherfucker was a new word for him, expressly forbidden by his mother. 'Jes feels good sayin' it,' he told me.

For his actual birthday, with my bare legs sticking out in the March cold, I gave him the kind of blow job that made Tommy grind his body into the floor. When I went to work on his balls, I discovered something.

'Hey Freddy. Your balls are bigger.' They were. They'd gone from sweet pea sized when we met to that of plump raisins.

'You think I don't know that?'

'You didn't say anything.'

'Okay, lemme look.'

He sat up and struggled out of the sleeping bag wearing only his undershirt and button up shirt. He pinched and examined them.

'You really think so?'

'Absolutely. They're bigger. You're twelve and now you're gonna get like Douglas.'

'Probly faster 'n' him 'cause I use mine a whole lot more.'

I sucked him to orgasm then climbed into his warmth and he slipped into mine.

'Happy birthday,' I said and kissed his lips. He kissed back.

Saturday, I did a quick cleanup of the pantry and the back porch. The moment my father's car was out of the driveway, I ran down the hill on my way to Freddy's. My grandparents were coming to help celebrate his birthday. I had bought him a seven dollar and fifty cent Timex wrist watch.

Aunt Martha, Brenda and Freddy's aunt had the house decorated for the four kids and one adult whose birthday was to be celebrated. Freddy wasn't allowed in the house for the final phase of decorations. We played marbles with a couple of teens and Douglas. I missed my grandparents' arrival. Since the house was off limits to all kids until the party started, I didn't see them until a quarter to one when Freddy's aunt called us all in. We were starved.

Both Freddy and I hugged my grandmother and grandfather. Their gift was formidable, a complete child's encyclopedia. The watch seemed insignificant but later I was assured he valued it more.

The food was great and abundant. There was a cake for each celebrant. Freddy's said 'Freddy, an even dozen'.

We spent much of the rest of the afternoon looking through the hundreds of pictures in the encyclopedia set. Freddy frequently checked the time.

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Malcolm

Chapter 9

by Michael Peterson