Date: Mon, 16 Nov 2009 02:26:28 -0500 (EST)
From: Clark Building <clarkbldg@earthlink.net>
Subject: Little Gangsters get Head

I had started 8th grade in Santa Monica and I should have been in the 9th
grade when we moved to San Diego, but because of missed time in Santa
Barbara between schools, I could not start 8th grade in the middle of the
year and had to repeat the second half of 7th grade.  Then we moved to San
Diego and I was back in the 8th grade again. It was Lincoln Junior High,
next to the San Diego Zoo, and I knew nobody.  Not one friend, relative, or
neighbor.  But I had been to many schools and knew how to make friends
pretty fast.  I was certain that I would have some pals before long.

I was kind of an odd-ball kid; my hair was long and my light blue denim
pants were old fashioned looking.  My stepmother had insisted on those
pants as a kind of uniform for school. I always wore them, had several
pairs.  My hair was shorter than it had been previously, but longer than
most boys in that time period of the fifties.  Within a few days of the
start of school, I knew I had attracted the attention of some guys, a gang
that ran around together and dressed alike.  I found out at some point that
they were kids from the Italian fishing community in San Diego and stuck
together like some children's Mafioso.  They liked to talk tough and bully
people whenever they got a chance.

Their leader was a guy name Emilio who was obviously older and bigger than
the rest, likely should have been in High School, maybe flunked 9th grade
and got held back for a year or two.  Emilio kept looking at me everywhere
I went. He never talked to me, at least the first few days, just kept
staring at me.  It was getting very uncomfortable because he didn't smile
or seem friendly at all, a kind of mean, hateful look all the time.  His
buddies watched him, saw him stare at me, so they stared at me too.  But it
was him who started it and him who knew what the fuck his brain was telling
him that made me of interest.  Nobody else was looking at me funny, only
him, and his little followers, his suckups.  At lunchtime, he would seem to
follow me around and I would pretend not to notice.  He was in my PE class
and no matter what sport we played during that hour, I could be certain
that he was watching me play.  In the showers afterward, we would each
pretend not to see each other but frequently glanced, just enough to know
he was watching.  That watching went on for two or three weeks.  Then one
day at lunch, Emilio came by himself, unusual for him to be alone, he came
to where I was sitting by myself.  I didn't know his name until that day.
He asked my name and when I told him, he told me his name and we shook
hands, something young men used to do.  He told me he knew I was new there
at that school, that I probably did not know who he was.  I said that I
didn't really know who anybody was, but he meant something different, he
explained.  He was, he said, the guy in charge of his people, the
fishermen's boys, I think he said some Italian phrase for it, but I forget
it now.  I got the idea.  He went on that they live together in their own
neighborhood and don't take shit from anybody.  You mess with one of them
and they all mess with you.  I assured him in my own boyish way that I
would not be messing with anybody and hoped that we could all be friends.
He smiled big and wicked, laughed, and said something like, "We gonna be
good friends, you and me."  That was pretty much the last time he acted
friendly.

The next day he passed me in the hall, a couple of his little creeps with
him, he stopped and said to me,

"My uncle says you are probably a queer cocksucker."  When he said it, his
eyes were intensely watching my face, which probably went very red.

 "Why," I stammered, "why ... why would you think ...?"

Looking at my blushing face, "Yeah," he nodded, "I think so."

He and his boys laughed and walked away.  I was standing there confused and
embarrassed, thinking only that it was impossible for him to know,
impossible for his uncle to guess.  Only my long hair could give anyone
such an idea and I was not that unusual, was I?  Was I?  My heart raced and
fear gave me a cold sweat.  What now?  Would they start telling others?
That was my fear, that with most of the school year yet to go, I would be
publicly labeled as a fagot and have to endure taunting, name calling and
general contempt by all the other kids.  I was all for people just minding
their own business and me keeping my past a total secret.  Of course, you
readers now want to know what past am I talking about.  Suffice it to say
for now that my uncle introduced me to cocksucking at the age of ten, I had
developed a letch for it, and it seemed like people could tell.  How? I had
no clue.  Maybe it was my long hair, which was truly abnormal for boys at
that time. All that went through my mind, but I was optimistic enough to
hope those Italians would move on to someone else and leave me alone. But
Emilio was just getting started.

Within a few days after that, a certain pattern was established.  Emilio
and a few of his boys would corner me away from other kids, surround me and
crowd in close, Emilio would put his face close to mine and command,

"Suck my dick."

 He would repeat it several times, waiting for my response each time.  Each
time, I said nothing, just looked down and probably looked terrified, which
I was, to a certain extent, then broke free from them and ran away.  Each
time I heard them laugh as I ran.  My fear was that they would start
hitting me because their hostility and disgust was obvious.  They seemed
certain that I was queer.  Maybe I was, but I didn't think so. Their
contempt for me showed on their faces.  I watched for it.  As such events
took place almost every day, it was not long before I grew more calm about
it and wondered that they did not grow tired of doing it.  I began to lift
my head up, instead of looking down in submission, and I began to look into
the eyes of Emilio, trying to gauge his animosity or whatever was his
motivation for hassling me like that.

 "Suck my dick," he would say, like he expected me to just drop to my
knees.

 He watched my eyes as he said it.  He said it confidently and quietly, but
with authority, like it would just happen right there on the school
grounds.

"Suck my dick," as if I could do it right that moment if only I would
listen.

"Suck my dick," like if he said it enough, I would have to obey.

But the look on his face was not hatred, it was something more like
pleading, like he was asking me to suck his dick.  I was still afraid, but
a little confused about his attitude. I got more and more cagey about
avoiding those guys, finding new places to hide and different routes to
take going home after school.  My fear of them was not totally real because
I knew they were just kids and I didn't believe they were capable of much
in the way of violence or actual harm.

It was cat and mouse for a month or more until one day Emilio and two of
his little gangsters fell in behind me as I walked home through Balboa
Park.  Lincoln Jr High is on the east side of Balboa Park and I lived on
the west side.  Normally I walked past the Art Museum, the Natural History
Museum, across a bridge over a highway about a hundred feet below, then
past a long stretch of densely wooded area before emerging into a broad
grassy normal kind of park, then another block past the park was the
apartment building where I lived.  I was on the bridge when Emilio and his
two suckass buddies got behind me; I took off running.  I was pretty fast
for a short distance, got way ahead of them but started getting out of
breath when I got to the wooded area.  Rather than slow down and let them
catch me, I turned off the street and thought I would hide from them in the
woods.  I knew some parts with heavy brush and overgrown bushes that I
could hide behind so I was trying to be quiet while breathing hard and to
get sufficiently into the bushes so they could not see me.  It worked for a
few minutes.  I think I was panting too hard to be quiet enough, but anyway
they found me.  It was a concealed place, a place where untold numbers of
sailors had probably fucked hookers on beds of pine needles.  The two
flunkies pulled me over to Emilio who just looked at me for a couple of
minutes while I caught my breath.

"Suck my dick," this time with such a commanding voice that it seemed a
foregone conclusion that I would obey.

Nobody around to object or to stop them from attacking me if I refused. No
class bells to ring making everyone hurry off to class.  "Suck my dick,"
again with authority, just a note of ultimatum, unsaid but apparent, that I
would get punished for my further disobedience.

My answer, "Make me!"

A nod from Emilio was followed instantly with a blow to my stomach by the
larger helper, I fell to the ground, once again unable to catch my breath.

They rolled me onto my back.  All three sat on me, one on each leg, Emilio
on my chest, his knees on my upper arms.  Keeping his knees on my arms, he
straddled my head and unbuckled his pants, got them slightly down, and
somehow extracted his cock.  With one hand holding his cock and his other
hand wrapped up in my long hair, he began sticking his prick in my face.  I
turned my head side to side, up and down, saying,

"No -- No -- No," but his grip on my hair made it increasingly difficult to
avoid him pushing his cock between my lips.  The wet tip of his dick was
painting my face with his fluid, all around my mouth and chin as I jerked
my head around to prevent insertion. My eyes were wide open and my mind was
encouraging me to stop fighting it.  Not only did it seem futile to resist,
but his cock was very attractive to me.  In only a few seconds, it had
grown very stiff and straight.  I dawned on me that my own little dick was
also getting stiff, a fact that Emilio's two helpers noticed.

 "Hey, Emilio, he's got a hard-on," one said.  Emilio smiled and said,

 "Open your mouth, you cocksucking little fag.  I know you want it.  My
uncle was right about you."

His cock was all over my face and was rigid as a stick. I was cross-eyed
looking at it.  It was a young, strong and ample cock with good length and
a nice shaped head, not too wide or mushroomed out.  It somehow aroused me
that Emilio was turned on by me, or my cunt face, or his little conquest of
my faggot ass.  My struggle to resist him just made him more forceful and
more sexually driven. The realization hit me that I was excited and
thrilled at being forced to do it.  Emilio caught on immediately that I was
suddenly cooperative, knew for a fact that his uncle was right about me.

I opened my mouth and Emilio's nice dick plunged into my hungry mouth and
got the sucking he had sought for months.  I watched his blissful face as
he fucked mine and I did all the things my uncle taught me about stroking
the head with my tongue and taking it down my throat.  His friends watched
us and watched for other people who might come by.  Nobody said anything
except Emilio who just kept saying,

"You're my cocksucker now, Baby."  I think he said it twenty times, seemed
like. It did not take long for him to cum. Emilio pumped his thick hot load
into my mouth and I gulped it down, just like I was taught.  The other two
guys took their turns and I swallowed it all down.

Then we made a deal. I wouldn't tell anyone what they made me do, if they
wouldn't tell anyone that I did it.  Oh, and they could each get sucked off
whenever they felt the need, but only one at a time in private.  I kept my
end of the bargain, but they got a couple more guys using me.  I pretended
they were forcing me.  I always enjoyed being forced and they enjoyed the
conquest.  How sweet.  I think men always value a thing or a victory more
when they have to work for it, or defeat someone else for it.  A sort of
strong-arm seduction.  Emilio tried to get me to come down to the docks
sometime, but I knew his uncle would be there waiting for me.  I was too
scared to go.  Years later I sometimes I thought about it when I jacked
off.  It might have been fun.  Older Italian men often seemed to have big
dicks.  Remember Mauricio at the boat yard?  Did I tell you about him?