Date: Sun, 27 Feb 2005 11:19:39 -0800 (PST)
From: Sin Titulo <sintitulo2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bone Work III

Bone Work III
by
Sin titulo

	Greg's dusty new Chevy pickup pulled up into the
shade beside the new house where we were laying tile.
Arnie stood up and worked kinks out of his back with
his strong hands and said he was heading out to the
porta potty.  I stood up as well, and watched Greg
sorting through the envelopes on the seat of his truck
through the side window.  It was payday.  As I
watched, Greg glanced up and saw Arnie stroll out of
the back door of the house across the still
unlandscaped yard to the three porta potties at the
back of the lot.  Greg didn't  hide his cock hunger
very well.  His tongue fairly hung out of his mouth as
his eyes followed Arnie.
	At the door to the plastic potty shack, Arnie pulled
the red suspenders he always wore off his shoulders,
and before he opened the door, popped the fly buttons
on his jeans.  Greg's eyes bulged out, and Arnie
grinned back at me in the house as he stepped into the
foul smelling potty shack and shut the door.
	Greg, opend his car door, and slid out holding two
envelopes in his hand.  He started for the three porta
potties, and then thought better of it, turning back
to the house.  I met him at the back door, which
hadn't been hung yet.  He bounded up the temporary
wooden steps, and handed me my pay envelope.  He
looked over his shoulder at the porta potties, and
stuck the corner of Arnie's envelope between his front
teeth.  He sucked on them for a time or two, and then
handed me the envelope.
	"What are you two up to tonight?"  He never stopped
looking at the porta potty Arnie was occupying.
	"Well, we talked about grabbing a steak and then
hitting the Fox Hole later for a few beers.  Why?"
	"Just wondering.  I'm so fucking horny my nuts are
aching from the pressure.  I'd like to get together
later."
	"How?   Ain't you carrying a millstone?"
	"The bitch has taken the kids and gone to her
mother's house for the weekend.  Maybe I'll drop by
the Fox Hole later.  I gotta have dinner with my old
man.  He wants a report about the progress on this
section of construction.  When do you think you'll
finish this tile.  It's the last house on the line
before we move on to the next section, which ought to
be ready for you two mid week."
	"Hard to say exactly when we'll finish it, but maybe
Tuesday afternoon."
	"Good.  That will be perfect.  No loss of time at
all.  The fucking old man rides my ass about every
extra minute."
	"Well you ought to like that."  I grinned at him.
Just then, the porta Potty door slammed open and Arnie
emerged shrugging his suspenders back onto his
shoulders.
	"I gotta run to deliver these other envelopes.  If
Arnie gets near me, I'll throw a bone for sure, and I
don't have the time right now.  I'll see you at. . ."
	"¨Round ten."
	"Good.  See you then."  He almost ran through the
hall to the front door, which also hadn't been hung
yet.
	"Hey!  You forgetting I have a nosey landlady?  We
don't have anyplace to play tonight."
	"Right!  I'll think on it."  He vanished just as
Arnie bounded up the temporary steps at the back.  I
handed him his pay envelope, and told him I was for
knocking off before the bank closed so I could deposit
my check.  He agreed.  We finished another course of
tile, and started to clean our equipment.  Nothing was
worse than gettng to work with a hangover, and having
to take the time to knock old grout off your tools.
With the headache, they rang like fucking bells.
Wasn't a good way to start the day.
	On the way to the bank, I told Arnie what Greg had
talked about.  He just grunted, and scratched his
balls.  As much as I liked Arnie, or you might say
loved Arnie, he and I were just not in the same
ballpark when it came to sex.  I know I mentioned that
we were each other's first cocksucking experience, but
after we both had seen the possibilities, we both
wanted to look around for something new and fresh.
Arnie prefered a little more raunch than I was really
into, although, I could step up to the plate and
deliver if it was obviously necessary.
	At the bank, the line in front of us melted when the
gentry caught a whiff of our two days of sweat.
Neither one of us had felt like taking a shower before
hitting the job that morning, and it had been a hot
day.  Not even a fan in the house we were layiig tile
in because the electrical services hadn't been
connected yet.  I noticed a little short guy in a
maroon suit, take a deep breath as he finished his
business with the teller, and his eyes roamed all over
us as he made his way out of the bank.  I glanced at
him over my shoulder as he exited, and he was staring
at us and his tongue licked across his lips.  I
grinned, and adjusted my package for him.  He wiped
his brow, and closed his eyes as the door closed on
his hand.
	Arnie cashed his check, and with the teller almost
holding her nose, stuffed his wad of money into his
front pocket.  I stepped up and cashed mine.  The
teller looked like she was about to gag.  I guess we
neither one was her type.  That was a two way street.
In the parking lot, as we climbed into my Ranger, I
happened to glance down, and saw we were parked next
to the Wally Cox guy that had been giving us the eye
in the bank.  He might have been small, but the piece
of meat he was holding in his hand was a master
craftsman's tool.
	"Holy shit!  Get a load of the crank on this
pissant."  Arnie leaned across the steering wheel, and
looked down through the windshield of the car the
little guy was sitting in.
	"Motherfuck.  How big is that thing?"
	"Looks like a strong twelve if it's an inch."  I
scrawled  a note on a piece of scratch paper, and got
out of the cab.  I strolled around the rear of his
car, and then up behind him on the driver's side.  I
watched for a second as he stroked his giant rod,
before tapping on the closed window.  The little
fucker nearly pissed on himself trying to hide what
couldn't be hidden with his two tiny hands.  He looked
at me in terror, but I smiled at him, and waved the
note at him.  He cracked his window an inch.
	"Sorry about that bud, but we are in public here."  I
could see he'd broken another sweat across his
forehead.  I passed the note through the crack, and he
reached up to take it with his right hand, exposing
the massive glans of his cockhead.  Man it looked
juicy.  A big drop of precum glistened in his enormous
piss slit.  "Don't waste it my man, until you read the
note."  I strolled back around the rear of his car,
and climbed back into the Ranger.  By the time I had
my seatbelt buckled, and glanced down into his car
again, he was trying to zip his monster hardon away.
He looked up craining his neck though his windshield,
and gave me the high sign.  I grinned.
	"What the hell was that all about?"  Arnie was
leaning over me watching the pissant put his big tool
away.
	"Nothing.  I just gave him the address of the Fox
Hole with the time we plan on being there."  I threw
my truck in gear, and backed out of the parking slot.
"You want to clean up before we get something to eat?"
	"We ought to.  I smell like a fucking pig sty, and
you da fucking pig."  He laughed, and punched me on my
shoulder as I pulled out of the lot into traffic.
	By the time we'd cleaned up, and had a stiff burbon
each, both our stomaches thought our throats had been
cut.  Neither one of us had eaten a bite since the
night before, and that had been nothing much but a rat
cheese sandwich, since we'd both drunk up our pay
checks by then.  Well, actually, Arnie didn't have
one, and half of mine had gone to cover the my rent
and Arnie's too.  His former boss was so fucking
pissed off at Arnie leaving, he told him he'd mail the
check.  I'd fucking carried the poor bastard through
the week.  Now he owed me.
	"The way I see it mutherfucker, you owe me some of
that wad you've got in your pants."  He grabbed his
package, and squeezed it tight.
	"You mean this motherfucker?"
	"I mean cash mutherfucker.  I ain't interested in
your dick.  No telling where that thing's been."  He
laughed again.  I couldn't help it.  I loved the
motherfucker.  Always had, and always would.
	"Tell you what.  I'll pay for food and drinks
tonight.  How's that?"
	"Shit.  I expect I'll be carrying you for another
week then."  He grinned.
	"Deal?"  I nodded and reached over and squeezed his
dick through his levis.
	"Deal motherfucker, but if you don't start carrying
your load I'm gonna run some ads and start selling
your services."  He laughed out loud and was still
laughing as we pulled out of traffic into the lot of
my favorite steak house.
	I ordered the biggest steak on the menu, and chased
it with a baked potato, sour cream, and a dozen fried
shrimp.  Arnie had the same, and before we finished,
we had both killed four bottles of Strohs each.  The
clock behind the cash register said it was going on
nine thirty as Arnie paid the check.  I took a
handfull of toothpicks wrapped in cellophane, and
dropped them into my shirt pocket.  Arnie muttered
that he had to take a piss, and started for the toilet
but I grabbed him by the collar and stopped him.
	"Save it bud, if you can.  It's Friday night, and
we're headed for the Fox Hole."  I'd only taken him
there the Friday before.  the joint only got hot on
Fridays.  The weekly regulars were a bunch of Vets
from the Korean conflict, and some of Reagan's little
shitpiles of wars, and one or two of the crap Bush
senior got us into when he didn't know what to do.
But Fridays, the regulars gave way to the few, the
proud, and the ugly, left over from the Nam.  Most of
the Friday grunts had seen their action in stinking
Southeast Asian jungles, and spoke a different
language than the regulars.  We didn't have much in
common with the weekly bunch.
	The hole, was still quiet when we pushed through the
red paneled door and strolled in.  The joint hadn't
any windows, so the smoke was thick already, and not
all of it was tobacco.  Jake, the owner, had gotten
tired of buying glass for broken panes and had just
boarded all of them up at some point.  There was still
a couple of booths available, so Arnie and me grabbed
the best one, and gave Dick, the barkeep, the finger.
He brought us two in cans without glasses.  There was
no doubt about it, this dive could get rough.
	Friday usually brought the police a time or two, and
they had a standing order: three times and you're
closed.  Jake had tried everything, but the truth was
by the time the local cops had responded to two of the
brawls at the Hole, they had suffered enough
casualties, and found it safer to cut their manpower
losses and just padlock the place.  Jake bemoaned the
Nam crowd, but we all sucked it down like fish, and
even though he was usually shut down by one in the A
and M, he usually made more on our night than the rest
of the week combined.  The greedy bastard.  Jake was
somewhere in the back.  He seldom showed himself in
front on Friday, because he always pressed charges
when he felt wronged, and he had made a few enemys.
	The clock crawled to ten fifteen or so, but it was
hard to tell because the plastic face on it had long
since gone, and the minute hand had been twisted out
of shape so it pointed in a cockeyed way several
minutes past what the time actually was.  The bar had
slowly filled up with men intent on getting drunk, and
all of us were busy doing the job.  Arnie and me each
had a line of five cans in front of us and were
working on a sixth when Greg arrived.  He had a look
of panic on his face when he pushed through the door.
The place did have a sort of Nam nightmare look to it
by then.  Lots of camoflage and plenty of tatoos.  Big
motherfucking bruisers staggering around loud in each
other's faces.  There had already been a couple of
punchouts, but nothing serious.
	He spotted us in the booth and made his way through
the crowd trying to avoid body contact with the
drunks.  When he reached the booth, he slid in and
held out his hand to look at it.  It was covered in
fresh blood.  "What the fuck?"  His eyes bugged out.
	"Some son of a bitch got his ass kicked though the
door a while back.  Fucker it wasn't open at the time.
 You probably got it off the door.  That's why Jake
had it painted red."
	"Shit.  Where can I wash it off?  Where's the
toilet?"
	"You don't need to go in there by yourself."  I
poured a little beer on his hand, and told him to wipe
it on his pants.
	"Fuck you."  He stood up again, and looked around.
He saw the sign that identified the toilet, and
started edging his way toward it.  He got shoved from
behind by a drunk, and staggered into the drunk he was
trying to avoid in front.  That bastard , shoved him
away, and he lost his footing on the slick floor.
When he surfaced again in the crowd, he looked like
he'd been crawling in mud as he made his way limping
slightly back to the booth.
	"Well, that didn't take long," I said, taking another
swallow and catching Dick's eye, gave him the finger
four times.
	By the time Greg made it back, Dick was just
delivering the cans to the booth.  He asked who was
paying, but before Arnie could fish out his wad, Greg
laid his Visa on the tray.  "What the fuck is this
piece of shit?"  Dick's eyes took on an evil reddish
glow as he stared at Greg.
	"They don't take plastic here."  I glanced at Arnie,
who was peeling off a ten from his roll.  Dick threw
the plastic at Greg, but not before he folded it
between his thumb and forefinger.
	"What's with that fucker!"  Greg was on his feet
again, shouting at Dick's receeding back in the crowd.
 I reached up and grabbed his earlobe and pulled him
down hard.  He sat down whining and leaning toward me.
	"Get a new card man.  You don't want to tangle with
Dickhead."  I let his ear go, and he straightened up
rubbing it.
	"Why the fuck not?"
	"Because he's the only fucker in here that's never
lost a fight.  He ain't got no scruples about fair."
I looked up, and happened to see the little short guy
from the bank squeezing between two ex marines with
skulls tatooed on their massive bare arms.  In the
haze, it looked like he was licking one of the
bastard's arms as he wormed his way through.  I
pointed to him with my beer, and Greg and Arnie both
turned to look.  "Our guest has arrived."  I waved at
the little guy, and beconed him over.  He looked
flustered as he made his way to the booth.
	"Wow," he gasped, as he slid in next to me.  "I had
no idea this place existed in Allentown.  I'm so
fucking horny I almost came just walking in the door.
Hi," he said, offering his tiny hand to each of us.
"I'm Ray,  Ray Johnson.  But you can call me Ray, or
you can call me Johnson."  his immatation of some dumb
comedian's routine brought back memories immediately,
and we all grinned at him.
	Both Greg and Arnie seemed at a loss as to why Ray
had joined us, since none of us knew him, and neither
of them particularly wanted additional company.  I
reached under the table, and felt of Ray's cock.  It
was already hard from his trip across the room through
all the sweaty men.  It snaked sown his pants leg like
a python and was near enough to his knee to call it
there.  He grinned at me, and I leaned over the table,
knocking over my line of empties which clanked, and
started to roll off the edge.  Greg grabbed for one to
stop it, but I  grabbed his hand in my free fist, and
dragged his under the table.  It took him a second
before I saw the realization dawn on his face.
	"Holy shit!"  He blew the words out with a gust of
air.
	"What?  You groping this guys's big cock?"  Arnie
took a swallow of beer.  "I seen it this afternoon at
the bank."  He slid off the bench seat, and ducked
under the table.  With my hand on Ray's leg, I could
feel Arnie working on his belt, and soon enough my
hand was resting on Ray's thin naked leg.  His big
shaft was sticking straight out and hard, and I heard
Arnie gag as he went down on the monster.  Ray just
sat there, with a grin on his face.  Greg looked
confused.  I reached under Ray's big shaft, and felt a
handful of nice heafty balls.  Ray moaned and grinned
broader.
	"What's going on?"  Greg wanted to know.
	"Take a look."  I massaged Ray's nuts, and Arnie was
still gagging.  Greg bent over and looked under the
table.  It was too dark in the bar to see anything
under there, so he fished in his pockets until he
found his bic, and then flicked it on while he looked
again.
	The next thing I knew, he'd slipped off the bench
seat as well, and Ray was being jerked here and there
as the two cockhounds struggled to control his big
shaft.  After a moment or two, it stopped, and I could
feel both their mouths working on the big tool.  Ray
just grinned.  I took a swallow of beer, and told Ray
that one of the full cans was for him.  He gratefully
took it and began to swallow it down like he was
starving for beer.
	"What's your story Ray?"  I swallowed again, and gave
Dickhead the fingers again.
	Ray's grin broadened, and he swallowed his mouthfull
of beer before speaking.  I could feel he was
beginning hump his hips a little.  I felt around, and
found Arnie had the head and a good four or five
inches down his throat.  "I haven't come in a week or
ten days., and one of the fellas is about to get a
mouthfull of cream."
	"Don't worry about it.  He'll swallow."  He sighed,
and his face distorted into a grimace.  He grunted a
few times, and I could hear Arnie swallowing fast and
hard under the table.
	"Oh fuck."  Ray moaned.  "That feels so fucking fine.
 I needed that in the worst way."  Arnie finally sat
up on the seat again, licking his lips.  Greg had yet
to stop licking up and down the monster shaft between
Ray's legs.  I finally took hold of his earlobe again,
and pulled.  He got the message, and sat up just as
Dickhead arrived with the next round.
	"You cocksuckers take it outside if you're going to
do that shit."  Greg flicked his bic at him, and said
he'd dropped his lighter.  Arnie paid the big man, and
he snorted at us and turned to go.   Ray reached out
and ran his hand over Dick's butt.  He must have not
felt it because Ray lived to savor it.
	"So, you were about to tell us your story Ray."  He
took a sip of beer, and set the can down in front of
him.
	"Not much to tell.  I married my highschool
sweetheart, and the first time we had sex on our
weddiing night, we were both virgins.  She didn't like
it much, because she said the size hurt when it was in
her cunt.  We don't get it on much any more.  Been
married twelve years, and mostly I just whack off if I
get the chance.  Once in a while, I make it over to
New Jersey to a place I know along the Raratan river
where I can get blown, and maybe even suck a little
dick myself, but that doesn't happen often."
	"What do you do for a living?"  Greg was always
looking for hot men to hire.
	"I'm a house painter.  Independant contractor."  Greg
smiled.
	"I could always use a good painter.  We've got this
big development in progress. . ."  Just at that moment
another fight broke out near the bar.  We all looked
up in time to see Dickhead whop some guy up side the
head with a baseball bat.  The man crumpled to the
floor, and Dickhead motioned with his bat for two of
the guys standing around in a tight circle to drag him
out.  The noise level had reached a point to where it
had become a wall of white sound.  Words at a distance
were inaudible.  A path was cleared and the body
dragged through the spilled beer and spit through the
back door into the filthy trash behind the Hole.  If
the poor bastard Dickhead had hit woke up at all, it
would be in the alley.  But he was probably familiar
with it already.  Dickhead usually didn't employ his
bat on first timers.
	"Rough joint," Ray said, his eyes wide with what
looked like admiration.
	"Say Greg,"  Arnie said.  "I've been wondering how
you came by your particular thing?"  He picked up an
empty can and crushed it with his left hand.  He sat
the flattened can on the table, and reached for a full
one.
	"None of your fucking business."  Greg apparently was
a private man.
	"You want what I'm saving up here, you'll make it my
business!"  Arnie reached under the table and we could
all see he was heafting his basket.  Greg licked his
lips, and glared at Arnie.
	"You fuck!  That's blackmail!"  Greg shifted in his
seat, and ducked hiis head a little.
	"Tell us motherfucker.  We all know he score."  Arnie
chided our bossman.
	Greg looked at him with watery eyes, and emptied his
can down his throat.  I flipped the finger at Dickhead
again, and leaned forward as Greg started to speak.
"Like Ray here, I married my highschool sweetheart
right out of school.  I didn't have to go to college,
because my old man is who he is, and he put me to work
in the family business."
	"What's that?"  Ray asked.
	"Newley Development Company."
	"No shit,"  Ray whistled.  "You must be fucking
rolling in it."  Greg nodded.
	"Anyway, after the girls were born, the wife lost
interest in sex.  I was reduced to what I could find
on the side.  For a while, I had a woman I could visit
when I needed to, with no strings attached, but she
moved away without leaving a forwarding address.  Must
have left the area, because she's not listed in the
new phone books."  He took a swallow of beer, and set
the can down between his big hands.  "The other
thing,"  He said, so quietly we almost couldn't hear
over the noise.
	"Yeah," Arnie said.  "The other thing."
	"Last Spring, I went to D.C on business for the
company, and happened to stop into a bar afterward.  I
got to talking to this guy from Detroit, who invited
me back to his hotel for a drink.  It was getting
late, and he told me I could sleep in his spare bed
rather than try to make it back to my hotel.  The
streets down there are dangerous at night, especially
after the bars close.  I took him up on his offer
because I was a little drunk.  It was some time later,
I woke up, and he had my piss bone in his mouth
sucking me off.  It was the first time I'd ever had
another man on my crank.  When I blew my wad, he just
kept it in his mouth, and I told him I had to piss,
and he maoned, and told me to go ahead.  So I did.  It
was the most erotic thing I'd ever done. pissing in
another man's mouth. '
	"He asked me to do him, and I'd liked it so much, I
did.  I loved his big load of cum in my mouth, but
after, when he started to piss, I went crazy with
lust.  I can't explain it.  I just fell in love with
piss.  The taste, the feel of the hot stream splashing
on my face and down my throat.  You name it and if
piss is involved, I am ready to go for it."
	"Fuck," Ray said.  "I've never tried anything like
that.  "It sounds hot."
	"You up for it?"  Greg looked at the little man with
renewed interest.
	"Could be.  You never know about anything until
you've tried it."
	"True enough.  If you had told me a year ago that I'd
be sucking cock and playing toilet for guys, I'd have
probably taken that guy's bat to your head.  We live
and learn about ourselves."  He took a swallow of
beer, and looked down at his shirt.  "Fuck.  I'm a
mess.  I'm going to the john to clean up.  He stood up
and sidled out of the booth, his eyes on Ray the whole
time.  As soon as he disappeared in the crowd, Ray
started to pull his pants back up.  When he was zipped
and buckled again, he slid out of the booth, and waved
at us with a grin as he followed the path Greg had
taken.  Arnie and I just looked at each other.
	It didn't take long for the buzz to make its way
around the room that there was a couple of piss freaks
in the toilet looking for used beer.  In record time,
a line formed leading to the men's room.  Arnie and I
decided to check it out.  What we found was that the
mostly unused women's toilet^×there were never any
women in the Hole, on Friday nights at least^×was now
occupied and the men waiting in line were taking turns
going into one or the other of the johns.
	I peeked in the men's room, and saw Ray on his throne
naked from the waist down, his pants hanging from a
hook behind the door.  A big trucker type, was pissing
on his chest and huge massive hard on.  Ray was
gasping for air like he'd just swallowed a half gallon
of used.  Since his eyes were closed tightly, he
didn't see me looking.
	Arnie met me on the back of the line, too afraid to
barge in out of turn since most of these guys were
twice his size.  He told me that Greg, was totally
naked, and on his knees taking bladder after
bladderfull of hot piss.  I could tell from the lump
in his pants how he was feeling about it.  As we
inched our way forward, he asked me if I was
interested in watersports.
	"Shit man.  It's really not my thing."
	"Never tried it?"
	"No.  I haven't.  Well, I have pissed in a few mouths
in my time, but never taken it myself."
	"It's not as bad as it sounds."
	"How so?"
	"Hot beer piss is mild, not at all hard to swallow.
The first shot is the hardest, but you get into it
pretty quick.  It can be a horny turn on.  You ought
to give it a try."
	"I'll think about it.  I've already said I'd try
anything once."  He sniggered at me, and adjusted his
cock through his levis.
	"We ought to go out to the parking lot and let me
piss in your mouth."
	"Fuck you."
	"I've always wanted to do it with you buddy.  It's
fucking hot.  I've wanted to turn you on to piss."  I
thought about what he was saying, and my mind turned
over an image of me on my knees with Arnie's dick in
my mouth sucking down his hot piss.  I shuddered at
the picture.  "If you want," he said.  "I'll take
yours first."  The image in my mind reversed, and I
felt myself start to get hard.  I really had a lot of
feelings for my old buddy, and the thought crossed my
mind that if this was what he wanted to do with me,
then I probably should let him have his wish.
	"Come on cocksucker; you've just convinced me."  I
took him by the arm  and steered him toward the back
entrance which was just beyond the toilets.  A dozen
pairs of eyes followed us out the door, and there were
a few muttered "faggots", and "cocksuckers" thrown at
us as we went by.  In the dark alley, the trash was
piled up high.  It looked like Jake wasn't paying the
garbage man.  At the end of the alley, we found a
residential street shaded with old trees and lots of
shrubbery.   It must have been nearly midnight, so
there were no lights on in the first house we came to.
 I pulled him back into a dense stand of some
flowering schrub, and let go of his arm.  In the dim
light from a distant street lamp, we just looked at
each other for a minute.
	Finally, he began to open his belt.  I did as well,
and once our pants were pushed down to the tops of our
workboots, he reached for me with his rough callused
hands.  I shivered a little, not from the chill night
air, but from the sensation of his touch.  We hadn't
had anything to do with each other sexually since the
Nam, and it suddenly felt like I had missed him in the
worst way.  He ran his fingers lightly over my cock
and balls, and then dropped to his knees.  He took my
half hard dick in his mouth, and just left it there.
I tried to relax to let him have what he wanted from
me, and after a moment, the flow began.
	It was a trickle at first, but as I relaxed into the
act more, my bladder, which was tight as a drum, let
loose, and he began to gulp and swallow as fast as he
could.  I gave him every ounce of yellow water I had,
and when he had finished with it, he began to suck me
up hard.  He was right about one thing, pissing in his
mouth had been one of the hottest things I'd ever done
in my life.  He took no time before I was humping his
throat with my bone, and he was getting a hot load of
cum to top off his beer piss.  He moaned around my
shaft, and I continued to face fuck him until there
wasn't anything left.  He nursed my softening cock
until I couldn't stand it any more.  I pulled it out
of his mouth, and the air felt cold on my wet skin.  I
lifted him up with my hands under his armpits, and he
stood swaying a bit from both the alcohol and I
suppose the thing we had just done.
	"Let's go home buddy," I whispered in his ear.
	"What about Greg and Ray?"
	"They're both big boys.  They can manage just fine
without us."
	"OK. "  He pulled up his pants, and I did as well.
We didn't go back into the Hole at all, but walked
around to where the Ranger was parked.  As we got to
the truck, he threw an arm around my neck, and we
hugged each other tightly.
	"I missed you buddy," he whispered.
	"Yeah, me too."

email:  sintitulo2@yahoo.com