Date: Thu, 26 Dec 2002 11:35:04 +0000
From: guess who? <spunkmachine@hotmail.com>
Subject: Anthony's Orgasms 2

"ANTHONY'S ORGASMS"

by Bambino

Author's disclaimer: The following a work of fiction.  All characters are
fictitious; any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.  Any
descriptions of adults and minors engaged in sexual activities are
imaginary and bear no relation to real events. The subject matter of this
story is pure fantasy and is not intended as a representation of the
author's lifestyle or ideology.  As a work of literature this story is
protected under the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United
States of America.

The author retains the copyright on this work.  Distribution or posting of
this work without the author's permission is a violation of that copyright.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _


CHAPTER TWO

Howard had told himself not to be surprised if Anthony didn't make their
rendezvous, and he wasn't.  Surprised no, but -- alas -- disappointed yes.
But by 3:35, loitering around in front of Hotgames, rubbernecking at every
approaching figure with a look of poignant expectancy, Howard felt like a
fool and decided to give up the ghost.  Over the span of the previous
half-hour the hope that the boy were simply characteristically tardy had
gradually leaked away, leaving in its place a kind of melancholy residue.
Howard forced himself to face facts: clearly the boy wasn't going to show
up.  And it was probably for the best.

Having swallowed this bitter pill, Howard turned around to leave and there
he was.

"Sup," Anthony said brightly.

"It's you," he said haltingly.  "I thought you'd stood me up."

"Nah... my mom wouldn't let me leave!"

"Oh...  I guess you got away anyway?"

"Yeah, finally her boyfriend came and picked her up."

"I see."

"So I got here as quick as I could."

"Glad you made it.
  So... want to help me pick out some games?"

"Aiight!"

Howard followed him into the store.  Today Anthony's gear was heavier and
less revealing than it had been the other day.  He wore the usual baggy,
oversize jeans which to Howard more resembled a duffel bag, with the left
leg rolled up.  His sneakers (size 7, Howard guessed) looked like
spaceships, and had lights in the heels which flickered every time Anthony
took a step.  The muscleman tank top had been replaced with a pullover,
also several sizes too big.  Howard sighed... gone were the days when boys
proudly displayed their bodies in tight shorts, midriff shirts, mesh
jerseys...

"Ohhh!" breathed Anthony fervently, coming to a display rack.  "This one
just came out! It's the bomb!"

As Anthony turned his head Howard noticed that the boy's thug ensemble was
accented with a new affectation: a small gold earring glinted at his left
earlobe.  The ornament, which should have looked outrageous on a boy so
young and small, merely emphasized Anthony's unique brand of rakish
sophistication.

More baubles, thought Howard. What is it about these ghetto boys and
costume jewelry? They like anything that glitters, just like crows...

Twenty minutes later the pair crossed the mall parking lot, Howard darting
nervous glances over both shoulders every few steps.

"Are you sure it's okay with your mom to come over? I mean I wouldn't want
anybody to think you'd run away or anything..."

"Nah, it's cool," Anthony reassured him with his urban streetwise
self-possession.  "She gets home late from her boyfriend's if she don't
spend the night with him."

"Nobody else at home checks up on you?"

"There ain't nobody else at home.  Just me and my mom."

"No brothers or sisters?"

"I got a big sister -- well, she's a half-sister, she lives with her dad."

"All right... just making sure.  Here we are."

"Ohhh!" Anthony said again, gawking at Howard's car.  "You got a Lexus?
Daaaaamn, you rich, huh?"

Howard laughed.  "Hardly.  It's an old clunker."

"Yeah, right."

The drive was a test of nerves.  Howard kept lookout in the rear-view
mirror for any familiar cars.  As they neared his neighborhood he felt the
butterflies in his stomach turn to vampire bats, screeching and flapping
around in his guts... Get ahold of yourself, he thought bracingly, you're
not guilty of anything yet!

Anthony was blithely unperturbed, as if jumping into the car of a strange
man he had met only yesterday, and going home with him, were nothing to
inspire trepidation.  He was far more preoccupied with Howard's hi-fi
system, which regrettably lacked a CD player, depriving him of playing the
hip-hop CD he had produced from one of the many pockets of his pants.
Howard gave silent thanks that his ears were thus spared abuse, but also
jotted down a mental note: Portable CD player for Anthony's birthday.

"So how old are you, Anthony?"

"Twelve."

"Oh yeah? When do you become a teen?"

"November 18th."

"Ahh... Scorpio, eh?"

"Yup."

Howard had neither interest nor credence in astrology, but he allowed
himself to wonder whether this beautiful boy would evince the Scorpio
traits in bed... Would he be determined, forceful, passionate, ruthless in
his pursuit of satisfaction?  Howard's loins joined his viscera in
stirring...

The streets began to climb, the suburb becoming more manicured.  Neat lawns
and picket fences swam by; at last they arrived at the cul-de-sac where
Howard's brick-fronted house stood at the back of a lovingly tended garden.

"Here we are, kiddo."

Anthony gaped anew.  "This is where you live?"

"Uh-huh."

"This is your house? For real?"

"Yeah."

"See, I told you'z rich."

"Rich is relative.  Compared to Bill Gates, I'm striving after every last
crumb.  Compared to some Patagonian aborigine, I'm doing okay."

"Compared to me you're rich," Anthony said simply.  "I get my clothes at
K-Mart."

Mental note, thought Howard: take Anthony shopping at the Gap.  Then he
scratched it out and appended: Wait a while on that -- looks too
suspicious.

"Welcome to my humble abode," said Howard as they entered.  Anthony ahhed
and oohed, then took a running jump at one of the huge beanbag chairs in
the center of the living room.  He sank into it, sighing blissfully.

"So where's your Playstation?" the boy asked.

"In the den downstairs," said Howard.  "I haven't set it up yet -- it's
been waiting for you to come alive."

"Cool!"

Fifteen minutes later Anthony sat cross-legged before the wide-screen TV in
Howard's den, careening through a high-speed video landscape obliterating
everything in sight with a chain gun.  Howard, sitting back on the sofa
with a bottle of grapefruit cocktail in hand, watched with eyes going
slightly strabic.  A simple formula for happiness, he thought.  He'll be at
this for hours... No wonder parents approve of this stuff -- it's the
perfect babysitter.

Howard attempted to engage his juvenescent guest in conversation, and for a
while they carried on a fragmented dialogue.  Howard learned what he
already suspected about the boy's life.  His mental log kept up its
note-taking.  Broken home.  Lives with scatty, promiscuous mother.  Father
unknown or else forgotten.  Half-sister virtually a stranger.  Anthony
already delinquent in school, in danger of flunking 7th grade.  Suspended
every other month for this or that, seems to regard "Juvy"with a blend of
fear and romantic curiosity.  Boys who have been to "Juvy" wear their terms
as a badge of merit.  Mother drinks.  Substances too?

"So why were you suspended from school, Anthony?" Howard ventured.

"This time?"  "Yeah, I guess."

"Cuz of something I said to a girl."  Anthony's adept fingers clicked and
pummeled the game controller, never missing a lick.

"Oh...? What did you say?"

"I axed her what cup size she wears.  Daaaamn, he shot me -- you saw that?"

"And they suspended you for that?"

"Yup."

"Jesus." Oh, to be a teenage girl... what easy rewards life would bring.

"Sucks, huh?"

"Sure does.  Got a girlfriend?"

"Nah."

Whew.  "Haven't met Ms. Right yet?"

"Girls are too expensive."

So are boys.  "I see your point."

"You gotta pay for the movie, buy them food, everything! Check this part
out right here, I'ma bust out the flame thrower."

"So I guess for now you're dating Rosy Palm and her five sisters, huh?"
Watch it, pal.

"Huh?"

There was no turning back; he had to go through with it.  "Aw, you
know... Rosy Palm.  Look."  Anthony turned and Howard help up his hand.
"Rose Palm, and her five sisters...  one-two-three-four-five."

"Oh..." Anthony said, as understanding dawned.  He laughed uneasily, turned
back to the TV screen.

Shit, thought Howard.  Game over.

"You got a girlfriend?" asked Anthony.

"Nope."

"Married?"

"Nope."

"How come?"

Howard grinned.  "Well, if I'm rich, like you say, then that's why.  I get
to keep it all for myself."

"How you mean?"

"No wife or kids to support.  Just me."

"Ohhh...  Heh! So you wanna learn how to play?"

"Ahh... well, I'm kinda tired right now.  I'll just watch you do it.  Next
time you can show me, and we'll play doubles."

"Okay.  You got a computer too, huh?"

"Sure do."

"After this lemme go on the internet, I know some mad porno sites."

Howard choked on his grapefruit cocktail.

"You aiight?" asked Anthony.

"Y -- " sputtered Howard, hacking for breath.  "Yeah... I'm fine... just
went down the wrong way."

"So... will you let me?"

Oh God help me.  "Gee, Anthony... you know I could get in serious trouble
for that."

"How?" the boy's voice was disparaging, ironic.

"If anybody found out I was having you over, looking up porn on my
computer..."

"Like who's gonna find out?"

"I dunno... if you told someone about it and it got around..."

"Who am I gonna tell?"

"Who knows -- one of your friends?"

Anthony clicked his tongue against his teeth sarcastically.

"Well I have no problem with it personally, and it sounds like you've been
there before... but it'll have to be next time, because my internet service
is down.  I'm changing providers and I'll be back online in a few days."

"Damn."  Anthony sounded genuinely disappointed.

You dumb fuck, thought Howard furiously.  This might be your last and only
chance!  It had been a good excuse, but the real reason was more awkward.
Howard's computer desktop was cluttered with porn of another type, which he
suspected was not the variety Anthony had in mind.  Conceivably, he could
excuse himself for a few minutes while Anthony played, clean up his file
structure to make it reasonably child-proof, but his office was also a mess
and it would mean clearing a path...

I gotta get him out of here before I jump his little bones.  "It's getting
late anyway," said Howard in an apologetic tone.  "Next time, you can come
over earlier, and have the whole day to surf the net, okay kiddo?"

"Thanks."

"Sure."

"You're cool."

Howard gulped.  He didn't often associate the word with himself.
"Thanks... so are you, Anthony."

Forty-five minutes later Howard deposited Anthony back at the mall.

"So you've got my phone number," Howard told him.  "Call me if you want to
come over again next weekend.  Call me anytime, night or day."

"Okay."

"Be good."

"Okay.  Thanks."

"You're welcome.  Be careful getting home."

"I live right around the block."

"See you next week."

"Bye.  Thanks for letting me come over and play."

"Anytime.  Bye."

"Bye."  Anthony took Howard's hand through the motions of his special
handshake, the choreography of which still eluded Howard.

"Next time," said Howard, smiling ruefully, "you'll have to teach me how to
do that too."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


(To be continued...)

The author welcomes feedback: spunkmachine@hotmail.com