Date: Sat,  1 May 2004 19:33:49 -0700
From: malou2003@hushmail.com
Subject: Malcolm Chapter 9

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

Send comments to malou2003@hushmail.com.

Michael Peterson
MALCOLM


CHAPTER 9


	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.