Date: Mon, 14 Feb 2011 12:54:15 -0600
From: michaelpete@hushmail.com
Subject: Malcolm 1

This is the same `Malcolm' published on Nifty some six years ago. It has
been re-edited, fixed up in a few places. For those of you who've never
read it, it is a roller coaster dealing with a gay boy growing up with a
very difficult, bigoted father, features an unusual love story, deals with
racial problems, and on and on. It's twenty-seven chapters long but,
readers back in 2004 constantly hassled me to hurry up with the next
chapter. So, there will be three a week, coming out roughly Mondays,
Wednesdays and Fridays.

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
michaelpete@hushmail.com.

Michael Peterson

MALCOLM

CHAPTER 1 - FIRST EXPERIENCES

            As far back as I can remember, sex to me has meant getting
fucked.

	I think the first successful time was with a freckle faced neighbor
kid two years older. It was summer 1947. I was six. We had stepped down
into a culvert behind our suburban row houses to pee. He caught my obvious
attempt to see his cock.

	"Wanna touch it, Malcolm?" he inquired and arched his hips forward.

	'Absolutely!' would have been my reply had I said anything, which I
didn't. I reached out with my left hand and grabbed onto his penis. It grew
and hardened in my hand. My neighbor, Carter, either had previous
experience or had considered this possible situation.

	"If you put mine in your mouth and go up and down on it, I'll do it
to yours," he offered.

	I recoiled at the idea of putting something in my mouth that had
just peed. Anyhow, I knew what I wanted, had long wondered how to
accomplish it. After all, a kid couldn't fuck himself.

	"I don't wanna do that but you can stick it in my back." I pointed
at my rear end.

	Carter stared at me for perhaps five seconds before saying, "Okay!
Let's go back in the bushes so nobody can see us."

	I was six and hadn't considered the problem of visibility to
passersby. I just wanted to see what it was like to have a dick up my ass
instead of fingers, pencils, candles and the other inanimate objects I had
used.

       We pushed our way inside a dense patch of tall bushes that grew over
the ground like a dome leaving a narrow space inside. My older neighbor was
opening his pants as we crawled in.

       "Take off your shorts and underpants," he told me.

       I slid both off together and leaned over, hands on my knees. Carter
lowered himself by bending his knees and stuck his stiff peter into my
crack. I reached back and pulled my butt open as wide as I could. He found
my hole but his dick was too dry to do more than push my flesh in. I knew
what he needed.

	"It's gotta be wet. Put some spit on it."

	He immediately saw the wisdom in my words and dribbled saliva on
his cock and down my crack. Well lubricated, he poked around until he found
my hole and pushed partially in. It felt great but he had a problem.

	"It's too hard like this. Get down on the ground on your hands and
knees."

	I obeyed, at that point quite excited by the brief feel of his cock
inside me.

       He waddled in behind me, dripped some more spit, pushed his dick
head down to my hole and thrust, sliding full inside. It took my breath
away. The feeling of something warm and smooth pushing inside me with no
effort on my part was incredibly exciting, ecstatic, better that I had
dreamed it would be.

	"Go in and out," I ordered unnecessarily once I could speak.

       He pushed in and pulled out a couple of times slowly then gripped my
bare hips and got right into it, smacking his flesh to mine, banging me
forward with each thrust. I let go of my buns and folded my arms under my
head. My little penis was hard as the shrub stump my head was bumping
against. I didn't want him ever to stop but, a couple of minutes later,
Carter squealed and pushed full into me, holding my butt tight to him,
throbbing away.

	"Don't stop yet," I pleaded in vain.

	"I gotta, it tickles like crazy. Don't move."

	He pulled his dick out slowly. I missed it immediately.

      He sat back on his heels and looked at his pink little pecker, still
throbbing gently. I rolled over and looked too expecting to see at least a
couple of brown streaks but it was shiny and clean as if it had just come
out of the bathtub. I wanted him to put it back in. And my bloated weenie
needed attention.

	"I gotta go home now but we can do it tomorrow if you want," he
said while pulling up his white underpants. I felt panic grow in my
chest. He was still adjusting his shorts as he crawled out of the brush hut
we'd been protected by.

	"But, Carter, wait..." A box full of the world's best tasting
cookies had been opened and I'd only been allowed a whiff. I desperately
wanted much more. Worse, I didn't yet know how to jerk off. It was very
frustrating.

	The next day I was at the culvert waiting, anxiously watching
Carter's back door. He didn't appear for what seemed like all day. When he
did, he did so apprehensively, nervous that someone was going to see us. My
only concern was getting his peter back inside me and keeping him there
longer.

	It started out the same as the day before except that the saliva
was there from the start. But, after a few thrusts, he reached under me and
took hold of my stone stiff cock, greatly adding to my pleasure, causing me
to move my hips slightly.

	"Yeah, like that," he whispered as he ran his fingers up and down
my shaft.

	But, just as I was starting to feel something wonderful building
inside my middle, he stopped, gripped my peter and throbbed inside
me. Then, as the day before, backed off, letting go and pulling out.

	"Why can't you do it some more?" I asked nearly in tears as he was
pulling up the undies he'd only dropped to his ankles.

	"I'm not supposed to go out today. I gotta get back to the house or
I'll be in big trouble." Whoosh, he was gone. I wanted to scream.

	He must have screwed me another dozen times before my father
informed us that we were moving to a larger house in another part of the
city. I finally did convince Carter to suck me a few times before I'd allow
him inside my rear end though never to fruition which I hadn't yet realized
was happening to Carter each time he screwed me. The throbbing I felt when
he climaxed didn't register as anything but Carter enjoying himself.

	Things in my life were to get a lot more frustrating than those
wonderful but incomplete sessions but, at the time, it seemed certain there
was something incredible I was not accomplishing, something just seconds
away. It was the stuff of nightmares.

	The family move was supposedly to be nearer a new school that I
was, in two weeks, to enter for second grade. I was smart, you see, and
even though I didn't turn six until November, they put me into grade school
at five, right out of nursery school.

	The more likely motivation for the home change was the great step
up the social ladder our new house represented, and the improved
lifestyle. It was made possible by my father's success as an engineering
consultant.

	He had been a top engineer with an airplane manufacturing company
during the war and within months of VJ Day, had set up his own engineering
consulting firm and was making a lot of money with military contracts much
as his father had done since the thirties. Giving credit where it was due,
my father's success was based more on his own hard work using business
knowhow he picked up from his dad. His father never provided any contacts,
insisting his son develop his own. My father worked long hours, bringing a
briefcase full of papers home each night and laboring over them in the
second floor den sometimes until late at night.

	My grandfather was a hard man, self made, the son of factory
workers, not one to display emotion or affection, and a very strict Roman
Catholic. My earliest memory was a beating he gave me at age three, and
having no idea why I was being punished. I never liked him or his wife who,
like her husband, was demanding and distant.

	My father inherited his father's religion and inability to give
affection. I have no recollection of him ever hugging me or saying anything
that indicated he loved me. We never had a genuine father-son
conversation. At mother's behest, he once, when I was five, played ball
with me for a few moments but a phone call ended it.

	For the most part, this empty relationship was no more than an
inconvenience but, unfortunately, he had a nasty streak that surfaced every
once in a while when he was irritated about something, often me. There'd be
a swat on the back of my head or a curt order to go to my room or both. For
a long time, I tried desperately to please him but gradually learned it was
best to just stay clear.

	My mother, like her mother, was pure housewife, keeping the house
and me, their only child, clean and in good working order and hosting
nearly daily bridge parties. She too was very much a Roman Catholic. Her
parents attended Mass almost every day for as long as I knew them. Both my
grandparents on mother's side were kind and affectionate. My grandfather
was forever making me things, well, religious things like statues he
painted, a wooden rosary and even a fancy wooden tabernacle with a gold
painted wine glass for a chalice. And, he was generally good for a quarter,
a lot for a little kid in those days.

	Mother, alas, was not of the same fine stuff as her mom. She was
shallow and unable to make me feel really sure of her love. I have no
recollection of her picking me up or sitting me on her lap though she
probably did when I was an infant. That's not to say she didn't care. I
know she did but was never willing to make that extra effort to do special
things for me. But you'll see what I mean as I go along.

	The important thing you'll learn about my relationship with my
parents was that there wasn't much of one. I could have been a pesky puppy
and received as much attention, no, more. Money was spent on me but not
time. Demands were made but compliance never appreciated.

	Neither my father nor mother did much parenting but we did go to
Mass together every Sunday.

	I had attended Catholic parochial school for first grade but my
father, his income rising like the aircraft he helped design, switched me
to a private Catholic school with nuns and relatively small classes. It had
a gym but with no dressing or showering facilities. On gym day, we wore our
gym shirt and shorts under our school uniforms. There also was a swimming
pool with doored stalls for individuals to change in absolute privacy. The
official swimming trunks were just that, baggy shorts that left everything
to the imagination. Even the bathrooms had baffles between the
urinals. Worse, the nuns were always talking about chastity, which they
dwelled on more than any other of the so-called high virtues to which we
should aspire. We were taught not to unzip our flies until we were in front
of the urinal. I liked to drop my shorts to pee. That was specifically
prohibited. The nuns in the early grades had no compunctions about entering
the boys' room to observe our chastity in action. It was all very
intimidating and, of course, frustrating.

	My new twenty room home was on two and a half acres of land spotted
with great oak and other hardwood trees. It had seven fire places, front
and back halls, front and back stairways, a basement and a large attic. We
had an old barn halfway down the slope from the house to the back property
line. It had been used half a century before to house horses and wagons. My
father kept it well locked up, claiming he didn't want vagrants sleeping
there. Never having heard of them before, I imagined vagrants to be some
kind of nasty animal like a really large squirrel. The rest of the houses
in the area were similar in most ways. The back of our property was across
the street from a field that bordered a mile and a half long tract of thick
woods through which ran a wide, polluted stream. Half a mile up that stream
was a hundred year old Negro settlement of dilapidated clapboard houses
that all got their water from a well in the side of the hill behind
them. They had electricity but no telephones. Entry was a dirt path. None
of the residents owned a car or truck.

	I went down to those woods every day to hide from the sterility of
my new world and to play, setting up water diversions at the side of the
stream and tiny twig huts, pretending I was living alone in the wild.

	One afternoon, during the second week of school, as I was
constructing a bridge over a small water diversion I'd made with rocks from
the stream, a slim, smooth featured black boy about my size who later said
he was either seven or eight - he wasn't sure which - wandered toward
me. His thick, unbrushed black nappy hair made his head look slightly
misshapen. His skin was as dark brown as it could have been without being
coal black. He had an oval face and a smooth nose with wide nostrils. His
large droopy eyes seemed to see right through me. I'd never been inculcated
with a fear of dark or any particular kind of people so welcomed him
without reservations.

	For a while we just looked at each other. Then the boy wandered
over slowly and squatted next to me. His knee poked out a tear in the denim
of his overalls.

	He asked, "What you makin'?"

	I went into a detailed description of my stick house with its
kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom and the bridge leading up to it.

	"Uh huh," he said. While I worked on the roof, he watched then
asked, "Ya'll live `roun' heah?"

	"Back up there," I answered pointing behind me over my shoulder.

	He looked. "Wheah?"

	I stood and put my arm around his shoulder to turn his body in the
right direction and pointed through the trees at the patch of green lawn
visible a hundred fifty yards or so up the long hill. He bent over and
tried to see.

	"In one a them big houses up theah."

	"Uh huh. Where do you live?"

	He put his arm on my shoulder - we were now draped over each
others' shoulders -, turned me upstream and pointed toward where the black
settlement was. Even though he was a year or two older, we were the same
height. However, from the way he easily turned me, I sensed he was stronger
than me.

	"What's your name?" I asked. "I'm Malcolm."

	"Maa, what?"

	"Malcolm."

	"Hmmm. Mah name's Freddy."

	He took his arm off my shoulder to offer his hand. I'd never shaken
another boy's hand. I did his. He could grip harder than me too. He smiled
and I smiled back.

	"You wanna play?" I asked him.

	We did and had a good time. Although he deferred to me at first,
after a while he insisted rather than suggested some things. But when I
snatched away a toy truck he wanted to treat like a boat, he relented with
a shoulder shrug. Being an only child and not accustomed to others making
even the smallest play decisions for me, I was probably a bit overbearing
after that. Freddy gave me puzzled stares at times but, in the end, let me
guide most of what we did.

	I found his speech strange and, occasionally, difficult to
understand.

	"How come you talk so funny?" I asked.

	"You's the one talks funny. Ah talks like mah mama. You talks like
white people," he finished with a good natured grin.

       I asked him about school. He told me he didn't go because his mother
hadn't the money for the streetcar and bus required to get to the black
school in another part of town. He might be going the next year if she
could get a better job than what she had as a maid for a family a couple of
miles away.  It had never occurred to me that there were different schools
for different colored people. I didn't yet know that in the large Eastern
U.S. city in which I lived, the schools, like movie theaters and
restaurants were segregated. There wasn't really a law making it illegal
for us to study, have fun or eat together like in some southern states but
that's how it was.

	"Why can't you go to the public school?" There was one roughly a
block from where we stood.

	"Coloreds ain't allowed in that school. Gotta go to they own."

	"What's a colored?"

	Freddy laughed. "Me. I'm a colored, negro."

	That didn't help. "But, what, how?"

	"Cause I look like this, see?" He stood and opened his arms,
smiling broadly, his great eyelids almost closing.

	I stood too and looked at him. "Like what?"

	"Shit, boy, you don' know nothin'." He came close to me and took my
arm and held it against his. "You's white and I'm black. We's
diffrent. See?"

	I looked but only saw two boy arms, one more muscled and a lot
darker than the other but an arm nonetheless.

	Freddy leaned over sideways and looked into my eyes. "Din't yo mama
teach you 'bout us?"

	This was a whole new kettle of fish for me. For whatever reason, my
parents had never discussed the race topic with me. And there were only
whites in my school. Of course, I could see the difference between us. I'd
noticed Negroes years before but had never seen them as being any different
from anyone else who didn't look like me. I had straight light brown hair,
light skin that sunburned easily and blue eyes. There were other kids who
had darker skin and tanned a deep brown, had dark or red curly hair, were
fat or skinny. I'd always surmised that these were just normal differences,
like big dogs and small dogs, lions and cats.

	Freddy straightened up. "You ain't never heard a no negro?"

	I shrugged my shoulders. I had heard the word but never associated
it with any particular type of person I might meet, just tribal people in
Africa. Was Freddy from Africa?

	"So why can't you go to the public school?"

	"I don' know. Mama says that's jes' the way it is."

	I thought about that while we played but finally just accepted it
as another of the mysteries of the world.

	I asked about his father.

	"He died in the war, in France, couple three yeahs ago."

	"What happened?"

	"Some big bomb fell on him wheah he was workin'. Mama s'posed to
git some money but she ain' got none yet."

	World War II was a mishmash of separate conceptions in my little
brain. I remembered VJ Day because my parents had friends over to
celebrate. My father hated the Japanese because they killed his
brother. That victory party was the only time I ever saw him drunk.

	One of the girls in my parochial school told us the Germans had
killed her father but we Americans were getting back by killing a lot of
the 'Krauts' as she called them. The nuns were forever collecting money for
Chinese orphans who had lost their parents in the war.

	I didn't know whether the Germans or the Japanese had killed
Freddy's father in France, wherever that was, but I was sure they must have
been terrible people to do something like that.

	He had a terrible time pronouncing my name. "Maacum," he said.

	"Mal-colm," I corrected.

	"Maa-cum," he mispronounced.

	We both repeated as before.

	"Ain't nobody heah but us so's you knows who I'm talkin' to,
Maacum," he said finally with his hands on his hips.

	I didn't want to lose a playmate so just grinned sheepishly.

	At one point, I asked him why was wearing a torn shirt and one of
his shoes was missing its lace.

	"'Cause we po'. I already tole you. It's how come I don' go to
school, 'member?"

	We played until I worried it was dinner time. We agreed to meet the
following day after school.

	The next day, I brought him a shoelace and a shirt I hoped my
mother wouldn't miss.

	"Yo mama gonna whup yo ass she finds out you done give this to me."

	I'd heard about ass beatings from other kids but had yet to
experience one. "My mother never beats me, just makes me go to my room."

	"You one lucky chile, then. Mine done whupped me plenty, even fer
nothin'."

	The following day, we decided to set up a rock passage across the
stream. My new friend took off his old torn brown leather shoes rather than
risk getting them wet. He had no socks to remove. I was daring, and got my
shoes, socks and pants wet when I slipped on a slimy rock and fell butt
first into the fetid, cool water. Freddy laughed so hard he had a difficult
time pulling me out. I stood on the bank and looked myself over, now
worried about my first beating.

	"Well, dummy, take 'em off and we can wring 'em out. I got matches
so we can make us a fire and dry all yer stuff out but we best wash yer
shoes first. They's all green!" He laughed some more.

	Not being in the least shy about my puny body, I stripped down. We
dunked my pants a couple of times in the water to get the mud and green
slime off then wrung them between us, with me twisting the legs and Freddy
the top. Freddy was twice as strong as me and twice turned the pants right
out of my hands. He did my underpants and socks himself since there was no
doubt he'd get out a lot more water than I.

	After tossing the clothes on some low branches, rinsing off my
shoes and sticking them on stakes he stuck in the ground, Freddy went about
gathering wood for the fire. I followed suit. He knew just how to do it,
putting up a small teepee of skinny dead sticks then larger around. He
explained that he learned all about this from helping his mother gather
wood and getting the fire going in their wood stove. Only one match was
needed to get it burning. Freddy piled on some larger pieces of wood as the
fire grew. The heat felt good on my bare flesh. Then Freddy got some more
dead branches and, stacking them one against the other, made stands around
the now blazing fire for my clothes and shoes. I admired his knowledge of
such things I'd never considered. I'd have either gone home wet or stayed
out until I was dry, either way getting in big trouble with my mother. It
seemed he was an expert in avoiding parental problems.

	He made me a comfortable seat on a rounded stone cushioned with
thick moss he found in the side of the hill. Admiration turned to a very
friendly esteem.

	"Maacum, you got one tiny dick," he commented from across the fire,
pointing his chin at my groin.

	I thought dick was a name so wasn't sure what he was talking
about. I looked down at my middle. "Dick? What?"

	"You don' know what a dick is? Yo cock, that tiny thing between yo
legs."

	Now informed, I studied it and thought about how it compared to the
few others I'd seen. "Well, it's gotta be or, or, well, that's how they
are."

	"Whatta you talkin' 'bout. Mines is twice as big as yo's."

	"No, it's not, you're just bigger is all. Lemme see."

	Freddy stood right up, flipped open the suspenders on his overalls
and let them drop. Without underwear to hide it, his penis was immediately
there to see, easily twice as thick as mine and longer. You can imagine my
first thought on seeing that monster: how to get it up my butt.

	After a year and a week of nuns teaching the evils of sex, I wasn't
quite as forward as I'd been with my neighbor. For a moment, I just stared
and sought words that wouldn't cause me trouble. He stood in front of the
fire and allowed me to admire it.

	"You, uh, how big does it get in the bathtub?" That's where I
played most actively with mine and assumed everyone else did the same.

      "We don't got no bathtub but it do get a lot bigger. Wanna see?"

	Excitement robbed me of words so I just nodded my interest.

	Without moving his feet, he sucked in his lips and massaged his
penis between the fingers and thumb of his right hand. It was up in
seconds. Mine came up just as fast, completely on its own. I couldn't take
my eyes off it. I forgot the nuns.

	"Wanna stick it in my rear?" I asked with baited breath while
pointing at my butt.

	Freddy grimaced and stared. I held my breath waiting for a nasty
negative reply.

	"You wants me to fuck you in the ass?" he asked his head cocked to
one side.

	Once again, I had no words so nodded.

	"Shit, you a crazy white boy. Lemme fix you a place ta lie down."

	I could hardly breathe. If butts were able to wet themselves,
there'd have been a stream running down the inside of my leg. Freddy
gathered moss, bunches of it.

	"C'mon, Maacum, you gotta hep too."

	I jumped up and took the patches of moss he gathered to a flat
place beside the fire. He made a bed long and wide enough for my knees to
my head. Then he pushed off his shoes and stripped. He hadn't an ounce of
fat on his slim muscular body. His skin was the color of burnt toast. I
particularly noticed how his stomach muscles formed a V that led right to
his huge cock that stuck out like one of the wooden dowel towel hangers in
my bathroom.

	My body, on the other hand, was soft, unmuscled. My only bodily
asset was my fat rear end. Even at the tender age of six, I'd appreciated
my own ass.

	"Put spit on your penis so it's all wet," I suggested as I lay
where he pointed.

	"Mah what?"

	"Your penis, silly."

	"You mean mah dick?" He smiled. I nodded. "You the one talks funny,
Maacum. What you call this?" he asked pointing as his dick.

	"It's a penis. Hurry up." Semantics weren't on my mind at the time.

	He got on his knees and pushed in between my thighs. "You ain't
gonna say nothin 'bout this to nobody?"

	"Unh uh," I answered and shook my head. I'd have crossed my heart
and hoped to die but couldn't with my chest flat on the moss.

	"Stick yo ass up here an' lemme see yo ho'," he said as he pulled
on my hips. "I hope it's big enough."

	I knew it would be and reached back with my hands to open up my
portal. He pushed in closer.

	"Don't forget the spit," I reminded him.

	"I ain't gonna fo'git nothin'."

	I felt the tip of his cock at my hole. It was slippery and gained a
quick entry. I pushed my ass up higher. He slid right in, setting off
sparks that my former neighbor, Carter, had never ignited. I held my
breath.

	Freddy pushed in even tighter and leaned into me, the warmth of his
body against mine exciting me even more. I reached back for his hips to
pull him tighter still. He began fucking. I breathed out sharply.

	"Man, Maacum, you got one great assho'." He rammed in, sending a
stream of those sparks up into my gut. He pulled nearly all the way out
then pushed hard back in, each time making me worry he was going to take it
all the way out. I wanted this to go on forever. I forgot where I was,
about my wet clothes, the fire, except, of course, the wonderful fire
raging in my rectum.

	Freddy pushed full into me and said, "lay down flat."

	I did. He lay on top of me, wobbled his ass side to side a few
times then began fucking again. I wanted to tell him to go in further and
not to stop. He slipped his hands up under my shoulders and went into me
harder still. With each thrust, he groaned a little, 'umph, umph'. I
reached back again to his hips and wonderfully round buns, riding them up
and down. For several minutes, he slowly increased the intensity, ramming
harder inside me, until, 'oooooo!' He pushed into me as far as he could. I
felt the throbbing of his cock deep inside me. 'Oooooo!' he repeated.

	Gradually, I felt the tension go out of him and his body settle on
top of mine.

	"Don't take it out," I said, worried he was about to do as my
former neighbor had always done after his much less pronounced throbbing.

	"No, I ain't. I could go ta sleep like this. I ain't too heavy on
You, is I?"

	"No. You can stay like that. Just go in and out some more."

	"Don't worry, I jus' gotta rest it some."

	He lay still on top of me. I moved my rear side to side much as I
could to enhance the feel of his big cock's presence in my bowels.

	"Lemme put some mo' wood on the fire an' we can do it some mo'."

       He lifted up, leaving me empty and anxious. After dropping a few
thick pieces of wood he found quickly, he kneed his way back between my
legs, found my hole and pushed easily back inside. The sparks were
re-ignited.

	Freddy fucked me again, taking twice as long as the first time,
ramming harder and faster. Near the end, with Freddy sweating all over me
and making smacking sounds as our bodies met, I felt like I was gonna
pee. I felt better than I'd ever felt in my short life. This was way better
than Carter's summer fucks. My head was swimming. My body felt light as a
feather. My peter throbbed like crazy. I though I was peeing into the
moss. It was my first orgasm. The tightening of my ass muscle was probably
what set off Freddy seconds later. I lay there, breathing hard and fast
through my mouth. Freddy settled again on me, dripping sweat over my ribs,
breathing hard as I.

	"Shit! I wanna do this e'ryday."

	I knew I did too. I felt strangely satisfied, no longer in need of
him continuing though it still did feel comfortable having his cock inside
me.

	After a while, Freddy asked, "I wonder what time it's getting' ta
be?"

	It was then I noticed the fire was providing as much light as the
sky. He pulled loose and looked at his still rigid long cock. "Tole you
mines was bigga."

	He checked my pants. They weren't a lot dryer but I had to get
moving. My underwear was dry, my socks almost but my shoes were still
soaked.

	With the next day being Saturday, we agreed to meet early there at
the stream. I worried a little I'd be punished for getting home late and
being all wet but mostly I thought about the wonderful feelings I'd
experienced and looked forward to more of the same.

	Back at the house, still feeling warm all over, I noticed that
mother was setting the dining room table. That enabled me to walk up the
rear stairs without her seeing me. I quickly changed in my room, hung my
wet pants and shoes in the closet and fingered my hole to remind myself of
what had so recently gone on back there. Then, I set out a few of my toy
army trucks and soldiers like I'd been in my room all afternoon. My mind,
however, was on the feelings I'd experienced, especially the incredible new
sensation in my penis. Minutes later, I heard her on the back porch calling
me. I shouted out the window. "I'm up here."

	At first, she doubted I'd been there for long but my protestations
finally forced her to accept if not believe. I told her that earlier in the
afternoon, I'd met a boy down at the stream and that we were now
friends. She seemed happy about that so I went a step further.

	"Can he come here for lunch tomorrow?"

	"Certainly, dear."

	Saturday morning, I headed for the stream right after
breakfast. Freddy didn't show until nearly lunchtime. He'd had chores to
do.

	"Wanna do it again?" I asked anxiously, my dick already pushing out
my shorts.


      "If you wanna," he replied.

	We used the same moss bed from the previous afternoon. It had
cooled overnight. I felt the warmth of his body more intensely. It was
comforting to feel him against me, inside me. He fucked a bit slower,
punching deeper, making me squirm with delight. With each of Freddy's
thrusts, my little dick slid back and forth inside a comfortable groove it
had carved into the moss. Once again, my head swam as I rose into orgasmic
heaven just seconds before Freddy joined me.

	"How come you like this so much, Maacum?" he inquired from on top
of me after his pulsing stopped.

	"I dunno. It just feels good."

	Freddy lay his head over my shoulder and said "Hmmm". After a few
moments of silence, he started in again even slower, then stopped. "Yo dick
hard?" He asked.

	"Mmmm hmmm," I replied.

	He continued his slow dance into my rectum.

	After a few strokes, he mumbled into my ear, "If you was bigger,
I'd let you do it to me too but you too tiny."

	I was small, somewhere between an inch and a half and two inches
hard. He was probably right. Anyhow, the last thing I wanted was for him to
take his long rod out of my hole. So I just said, "Mmm hmm" again and let
it go at that.


	It was great. He lay snugly on top of me, slow fucking for the
longest time. I held onto his gently bobbing buns with both hands, wishing
I could watch them. His hands were under and around my shoulders
again. They began to tug and squeeze. My weenie hardened. Freddy pushed in
hard as deep as he could. Then came the pulsing inside my ass. I pumped
into the moss, going for my own climax.

	"Don't stop, don't stop," I pleaded.

	He made a series of shallow pumps, only pulling about halfway out
each time. It worked. The sparks came roaring up through my rectum, into my
groin right to the tip of my very happy penis.

	Freddy must have felt my pulsing. "You getting' it, ain't ya?"

	"Mmm hmm."

	"Good, ain't it?"

	"Mmm hmm."

	Once again, we lay there with him draped over me, his slowly
softening cock staying up inside me. I'd reached climax two times, just
like him. Life was good.

	When we finally pulled apart, I felt my stomach asserting itself
after all that attention to lower organs.

	"I'm hungry," I said, "wanna come to my house for lunch? My mother
says you can."

	"Unh uh, I cain't do that, Maacum, but you can come to mines. Mama
left plenty to eat."

	"But if I don't go home for lunch, my mother will get mad and I'll
get punished. I asked last night and she said you can come. Why can't you
come to my house?"

	"'Cause negroes ain't s'posed to go to no white folks' houses
'les'n they works theah."

	"Why?"

	"Shit, Maacum. Because I cain't, that's why. My mama would whup me
fo' a hour if'n I went to yo' house."

	I really didn't understand but tried a different tack. "If I go get
the lunch, we can eat out back." I grabbed his arm. "C'mon, Freddy. It's
gonna be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and probly chocolate milk."

	Freddy laughed. "An' you gonna go naked?"

	I really had forgotten. "But you're gonna come?"

	"Jus' ta the back. I ain't goin' neah to the house."

	We dressed. I watched his snakelike cock disappear behind his
overalls.

	We climbed out of the woods and crossed the field between them and
the street that bordered my family's property. The house was still nearly
as far off as we'd already come.

	"Woowee, Maacum, tha's a big house. Who else live in theah wi'
ya'll?"


"Jus my mother and father and me. We're gonna get a dog one day."

	Halfway up the rear lawn, Freddy stopped by a large oak. "I'll wait
heah."

	I sighed, went up to the back porch and inside. Mother was reading
a magazine in the breakfast nook.

	"Hungry, dear? Where's your friend?"

	"He's outside and won't come in. He says Negroes can't come into
the house."

	Mother took a moment to absorb my news. "Your friend is a Negro?"

	"That's what he says. Why can't he come in?"

	Mother tried to cover it but I could sense her discomfort and
didn't understand why she should feel that way. Mother tried to look past
me into the back yard.

	"How, old is he?"

	"He says he might be eight, or seven. So why can't he come in?" I
was becomming angry.

	Mother grasped her one hand with the other, still staring into the
back yard. I think she saw him. She bit her lower lip and said, "Does your
friend want to come in?"

	I looked back in his direction. "He just said he can't. I want him
to come in. He's my friend, my only friend, the only boy I know around
here."

	Mother walked to the back door and looked the fifty or so yards to
where Freddy was squatting beside the big oak. Seeing him like that made me
want to run out and sit with him. He wasn't just my only friend, he was the
first real friend I'd had in my life. Carter and the others in the old
neighborhood were sometime playmates. None of them had ever spent the kind
of time with me that Freddy did. None of them talked to me and did things
with me like Freddy. School was even worse. I wanted him with me inside the
house.

	"Tell Freddy to come into the house," I told my mother, "right
now!" Ordering adults around wasn't my custom. It surprised the both of
us. But it worked.

	"Freddy," mother called out softly, too softly for Freddy to hear.

	I pushed out the door to the small rear porch rail. "Freddy," I
shouted, "my mother says to come in here so we can eat lunch."

	Freddy stirred but didn't stand. Mother waved him to come to us. He
stood and looked around.

	"Come on, Freddy, I'm hungry," I yelled.

	He stuffed his hands in behind the bib of his overalls and began
walking hesitantly toward us. I ran out to him.

	"Mother says it's okay. Now come on."

	"My momma finds out an' I'm gonna get whupped. Who else in theah?"

	I took his arm. "Just my mother. Now, c'mon."

	He allowed me to drag him up and onto the porch. As we went past
mother, he glanced at her like he was expecting a smack on the back of the
head.

	Mother asked us what we wanted to eat and prepared the requested
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches along with Bosco flavored milk.

       We went into the bathroom between the kitchen and the dining room to
wash our hands. Freddy washed his face too. I noticed how his wet face
shone.

	"What you looking at, Maacum."

	"You look different when you're wet."

	"You crazy, Maacum," he laughed.

	I made a mental note to be more observant the next time he got wet
while we were naked.

	As we ate, mother alternated between the sink and the table asking
Freddy about his father – "He was killed by a bomb in the war, ma'am." -
and his mother – "She a maid, ma'am."

	"Oh?" Mother went back to the sink then returned. "Then she has a
job right now."

	"Yes, ma'am, but she lookin' fo' one fo' mo' money."

	"Oh, a, do you know your telephone number?"

	"We ain't got no telephone, ma'am."

	"Yes, of course. I'm looking for a maid. You think your mother
knows someone who's looking for a job?"

	"I don' know, ma'am. I'll tell 'er you's askin'."

	"Mother, why don't you tell Freddy's mother she can come and work
here." My mind was spinning with the thought that Freddy could come to the
house every day with his mother and we could play inside when it got
cold. I was quite aware that sex outdoors was shortly going to be far less
pleasant as the temperatures fell.

	I convinced Freddy to come play in my room after we ate. He was
enthralled with all my toys and clothes. "You got mo' clothes than my whole
fam'ly, Maacum, includin' my cousins."

________________________________


	Sunday, when my parents and I got back from church, a short black
woman and Freddy were waiting in front on the sidewalk at the driveway
entry. Freddy's mother, looked to be an adult, female version of her
son. She too was slim, dark and had the same large sleepy eyes. My father
had seemed unenthused about my Negro friend and wondered aloud why I
couldn't find other boys my age in the area.

	"They're all little or real big." That was a guess. I hadn't really
looked but was aware that the neighbor kids up the hill fit that
description.

	He'd asked about kids from my school but I told him none lived
anywhere near us so how was I going to play with them.

	Freddy's mother was very gracious, charming my mother and gradually
my father, too. She offered to make us lunch to show what a good cook she
was. Using leftovers and macaroni, she came up with a casserole that
convinced my mother. Freddy and I were scooted out of the kitchen when they
discussed money. We went up to my room and played with my checkers game
that neither of us much understood. We were far too interested in hearing
any sounds from the kitchen window below mine to do more than move the
pieces around each other. The negotiations took nearly half an hour but
Freddy's mother agreed to start a week from Monday.

	I hugged Freddy from behind, almost lifting him off the floor. His
mother gave him a stern look so he let me do all the celebrating though not
resisting my elation.

	To my chagrin, Freddy's mother took him home with her.

	Monday, after school, I rushed down to the stream but Freddy didn't
show up. Tuesday when he again didn't appear, I walked up the path along
side the stream hoping to find his house. I found him sitting against a
tree not far from a huddle of small, dark, unpainted wooden homes. He
jumped up when he saw me and pushed me back up the path.

	"Shit, Maacum. You gon' get me in big trouble if somebody sees you
heah."

	His mother had told him she could see clear as day that "that white
man din't want his son playin' 'roun' with no colored boy" and she could
lose this good paying job if Freddy was to get anywhere near me.

	I was crushed.

	"Please, Maacum. Go away befo' somebody sees you o' sees I ain't up
neah to the house. Please!"

	I walked slowly down the path, very angry, eventually crying,
plotting how to make my father go tell Freddy's mother he could play with
me.

	"Did you ever think maybe he just wants to play with his own kind?"
my father asked me when I confronted him that evening.

	His own kind meant nothing to me. "He always came and played with
me at the stream."

      "What about Saturday when you forced him to come inside for lunch. He
didn't want to come in here and you know it. And he didn't look so excited
Sunday when we took on his mother. He's already got friends down where he
lives."

	"No he doesn't. I saw him and he was sitting alone." There I was
again challenging adults. This time, though, I felt I had right on my side
and should be making the challenge.

	Mother intervened. "They do seem to get along very well, dear."

	"Sandra, that's not helping." He walked out of the dining room.

	I dared to follow. "Freddy likes me and wants to play with me
too. He doesn't do anything wrong. So why can't he play with me?" My little
speech started as a tirade but, as I realized how close I was to making him
angry and being punished, quickly cooled to an entreaty.

	He sat in his big stuffed chair and grabbed the
newspaper. "Malcolm, there are just some things you don't understand
yet. This matter is closed. Go do your homework."

	Tears made doing homework impossible.

	I didn't speak to my father the rest of the week. He acted like he
was ignoring my anger but I caught the glances.

	Each afternoon and Saturday, I went to the stream and played
wistfully with the hope Freddy might appear. He didn't.

	Sunday, feeling very angry and unhappy, I refused to go to
church. Mother cajoled but I sat cross legged in my room, clothed only in
pajamas and refused to dress. I was left to stew. When they got back, I was
refused breakfast.

	Stomach aching, I put on play clothes and headed on down to the
stream, on the way deciding I had to speak with Freddy's mother. It had
rained the night before and the leaves of the bushes and small trees
bordering the path were still covered with raindrops. By the time I arrived
at the small settlement, my shirt sleeves, shorts and legs were thoroughly
wet. There didn't seem to be anyone around. I had no idea which of the
dozen or so houses was Freddy's. There were plenty of dogs and they all
barked. Most were tied up, some on very short pieces of rope. A couple of
younger animals were loose and ran at me, teeth bared. Terrified, I started
to back off.

	An old woman came walking awkwardly around the corner of a house
waving a cane in the air and shouting best as she could with her weak airy
voice. The pups tucked their tails between their legs and retreated though
darting occasional nasty looks at me.

	"Who you lookin' fo', boy?" she asked suspiciously.

	"Uh, Freddy's mother."

	"They's all at church, sugah. What you want her fo'?"

	"Uh, she's gonna be our maid and, uh, I just wanted to talk to
her."

	The woman stared at me for a few seconds, then said, "You be that
little white boy Freddy's been botherin', ain't cha?"

	"No, no. Freddy's my friend. He doesn't bother me."

	A few more seconds of staring and, "Well, they's at church. Best
come back later. Now you go on back home, boy. I cain't watch them dogs all
day."

	"Thank you," I said backing out. The two loose pups were together
to one side watching my every move. I stopped. "What time are they gonna be
here?"

	"That's right, boy, you go on home now."

	I walked dejectedly back up the path and sat on a rock above the
stream, feeling very sorry for myself, and very hungry. I went home and
stood in the dining room entryway where my parents could see me.

	Mother finally fed me.

	One thirty found me back at Freddy's settlement. There were plenty
of people about this time, most still dressed up for church. Freddy was
with two older boys playing marbles. The dogs alerted him a stranger was
about. He turned away for a moment then got up and walked over to me. The
two other boys stood and watched.

	"Maacum, you getting' me in all kinds a trouble. My granma hit me
with her cane when I come home an' mama's already put a belt ta me. They
ain't gonna let us be togetha so go on home befo' I get another whuppin'."

	The pain in his eyes made me want to cry. But I had to try. "Please
let me talk to your mother. She thinks you've been bothering me. You're my
friend and I'm gonna tell her."

	"Maacum, she gonna lose her job at yo' house if'n I'm around. Yo
daddy said so."

	I felt like I was going to explode. My father had lied to me and
worse. Had I known a few cuss words, I'd have used them all. I still wanted
to hug Freddy before I left but noticing all the eyes looking my way, I
just said, "You're my friend and I'm gonna make my father let you come."

	With that, I turned and headed resolutely back up the path angrier
than I think I'd ever been.

	By the time I reached the house, some caution blunted my planned
speech. My mother was with a pair of friends in the living room. I wanted
her as an ally.

	I walked up to her easy chair and whispered in her ear. "I gotta
talk to you now." Mothers are almost always easier to boss around than
fathers, at least in 1947.

	Mother excused herself. I told her what I'd found out. I got the
immediate impression she already knew.

	"Listen, dear, I'm going to find a way for you to play with some of
your classmates. They can come here and you can go to their houses."

	That was not what I wanted to hear. "I don't wanna do that. Anyhow,
I don't like most of them. Freddy's my friend. I want to play with him!"

	Mother sighed and led me to the kitchen and sat us at the breakfast
table.

	"Dear, it's just not that simple. You see, white people and colored
people don't really want to be friends like that. Freddy's mother doesn't
want her boy playing with you either." She paused and sighed. "This is
ridiculous. Dear, you may not play with Freddy. I'm sorry. Now I'm being
rude to my friends so I have to go back."

	I stood on the bench as she walked out and screamed. "I hate you
both! I hate you!"

	My father stormed in through the back door. "You just go to your
room, boy, now! And don't come out until it's time to go to school
tomorrow."

	My mind raced over alternatives from sitting down where I was to
obeying. I was furious but also afraid I was crossing a line not to be
crossed. Fear won out. I did slam the door to my room.

	When I came down for breakfast in the morning, Freddy's mother was
in the kitchen alone. I glared at her but said nothing. She started fixing
scrambled eggs. I got up, dragged a chair to the kitchen cabinet, climbed
on it and pulled down a box of Wheaties. Freddy's mother watched as I got a
bowl and spoon from the dish rack and milk from the refrigerator. All the
while I was trying to think of something nasty I could say but nothing that
made sense came into my mind.

	I was testy all day in school, almost hitting a boy who annoyed
me. At home, I dumped my book bag in the kitchen and went straight out and
down to the stream. There, I cried. Then, I heard footsteps crunching
leaves. I looked up and saw Freddy. I rushed to him and gave him a long,
powerful embrace.

	"Maacum," he whispered, "they's a other boy heah wi' me."

	I wiped the tears on my sleeve. An older boy, nearly a head taller
and several shades lighter stood behind Freddy looking apprehensive. Freddy
gently pulled loose.

	"Maacum, this heah is Douglas. He's ma cousin." He leaned close and
said in a lower voice, "He's s'posed to be watchin' me that I don' go away
from the house but I told him he could do, you know, do what we do, an' he
said okay."

	That was completely unexpected but not worrisome. I leaned to my
right and looked past Freddy at his cousin who smiled sheepishly at
me. Even his hair was lighter than Freddy's. I straightened back up and
asked, "Back here?" pointing surreptitiously with my thumb.

	Freddy nodded in the affirmative. I was game, and it wasn't just to
have Freddy back. Another penis was always of interest. I hugged him again.

	The moss bed we'd made before was mostly dead and rough so Freddy,
Douglas and I went about making up a new one. Douglas didn't say a word,
just followed Freddy's instructions and occasionally glanced nervously, or
possibly in anticipation, at me. I was increasingly curious about what his
penis looked like, how big it was. He was a lot bigger than Freddy but wore
the same baggy overalls which effectively covered all.

	Freddy told Douglas he could go first but Douglas nudged him in my
direction, still not saying a word. I was already stepping out of my shorts
and was completely naked before Freddy dropped his overalls. Douglas looked
me over like I was something from outer space.

	I lay on the fresh moss and raised my rear. Freddy dribbled saliva
on his cock and slipped in close. I closed my eyes in anticipation. His
entry was smooth, filling me with tiny butterflies. Douglas squatted at our
side and watched intently. Freddy settled on top of me, instantly warming
my body with his. He began pumping into me, pushing my little wiener into
the moss, making it grow.

	Douglas reached inside his overalls to his crotch. Freddy pushed
deep inside me, causing me to forget our observer. I came first, at least a
couple minutes before Freddy. I expected him to keep on as usual but he
whispered in my ear, "It's Douglas' turn then we can do it again."

	Slowly, he lifted off, his hard cock snapping out. Douglas looked
very nervous. He said something in Freddy's ear. Freddy looked
irritated. "Take off yo' pants, Douglas. Ain't gone be no problem long's
you don't say nothin'."

	Douglas took a breath and unsnapped the flap on his overalls. They
fell revealing clean underpants with something poking out in front, way
out. He sat on a rock and took off his shoes then the overalls, slowly, one
leg at a time. Then came his T shirt, arm by arm by head. He had a smooth
body as opposed to Freddy's tight muscles and skin the color of mud. His
tummy was perfectly smooth and flat. Finally, he hooked his thumbs in his
underwear and, looking at Freddy like he really didn't want to do it,
pushed them down. A penis, bigger than anything I'd ever seen, bounced
out. It was half again as long as Freddy's and thicker, its head stretching
his foreskin tight. A pair of balls the size of plump cherries hung below
in a soft, brown sack. Not that I'd have expected any nor knew it existed,
there wasn't a pubic hair in sight.

	Freddy said, "He's a high yaller."

	I had no idea what that was but nodded anyhow. My thoughts were on
the likelihood that Douglas' penis might be too big for my hole.

	Douglas spit into his hand three times and rubbed the saliva on his
dong.

	"He's too big," I told Freddy. I'd unsuccessfully tried a broom
handle during the summer. It had been about the thickness of Douglas' cock.

	"Jes try it Maacum. Say stop if'n it hurts."

	Douglas knelt down between my legs and leaned forward, his hands on
either side of me, and tried to aim his tip at my hole. Freddy knelt beside
us and guided him to his target with one hand and pushed his rear forward
with the other. It hurt immediately. I pulled away.

	"I tole you I was too big," said Douglas.

	There was frustration all over Freddy's face. He leaned over to my
ear. "Why don't you put it in yo mouth so's he won't say nothin' that I
come heah. Don' worry, we washed both a ours real good befo' we come heah."

	The idea was repugnant. But it allowed Freddy to be with me. I
looked back at Douglas four hard inches now sticking out over my buns. "You
put yours in when I do it?" I entreated Freddy.

	"Sho."

	Freddy stood up then leaned over to Douglas' ear. The bigger boy
massaged his penis as Freddy spoke. Finally, he frowned and stood. Freddy
pushed him forward. Douglas sat in front of me, legs out to either side
under my shoulders, his cock level with my nose. I looked at it for pee or
any sign of dirtiness. It did look clean.

	Freddy climbed in behind me and slid his cock up inside. It felt
great as usual.

	"Go 'head, Maacum. Put yo mouf on it and go up and down."

	I lifted myself up on my elbows. Douglas pushed his cock downward
until the head was in front of my lips. I sniffed but didn't smell anything
but skin. I opened my mouth. Douglas pushed forward. His cock entered and
rested on my tongue. I closed my lips around the shaft and sucked
gently. It was incredibly smooth, not as bad as I'd expected, actually,
kind of nice.

	Freddy pushed my head from behind. Douglas cock went to the back of
my mouth almost making me gag. I pulled my head back. Freddy shifted his
hand to the top of my head and pushed and pulled, running my mouth up and
back Douglas's slick shaft. Freddy was hardly moving inside me. I wiggled
my ass to alert him to his inaction. He got to it, pumping away in time
with his hand on my head. I tightened my lips about Douglas and ran my
tongue up and down the soft bottom of his cock. Douglas began pumping in an
out. His abdominal muscles flexed. I ran one hand over his middle, enjoying
the feel of the smooth flesh and the movement of his muscles underneath
each time he pushed into my mouth. I found I enjoyed having two cocks in
me. I was even beginning to like sucking on Douglas' growing organ.

	Freddy gradually let go of my head, slipping his hands between me
and Douglas onto their familiar place around my shoulders as he fucked
harder and deeper into me. My head, no longer in need of a guide, was going
up and down on its own. My peter was well on its way toward an explosion
down in its moss cavern. Douglas' cock bloated. He stiffened and pushed
into my mouth. I was totally unprepared for the strange bittersweet taste
that filled the back of my mouth as he shot his young sperm across the back
of my tongue. I swallowed involuntarily. Freddy sped up, banging me forward
with each thrust. I climaxed, clamping down on the still pulsing cock in my
mouth and the other sliding in and out of my rear. It set off Freddy who
kept pumping as he throbbed.

	When I looked up, Douglas was smiling. "You right, Freddy, Maacum
is real good at doing sex. We can come here e'ry day if you wants."

	Freddy relaxed on top of me as usual, his peter still inside
me. Douglas cock began to soften allowing me to slip down the shaft and
rest my face on his smooth groin, my shoulders on his thighs. I put my arms
around his waist. Douglas cuddled my head. Freddy started in fucking again,
his head between my shoulder and cheek. It was his third time and would
take a while. That was great by me.

	With sex finally over, we played in the stream making a walkway to
the far side. Freddy and I were still naked. Douglas had put on his
underwear, covering an attractive well rounded backside and his pretty
peter.

	"You're going to get your underpants dirty, Douglas. You better
take them off," I remarked.

	Freddy knew what I wanted and told his cousin to strip. Douglas
laughed and hopped out of his briefs. Where Freddy's buns were tight,
Douglas moved around like a pair of balloons pressed against one another. I
spent more time watching Douglas' body parts than playing, eventually
slipping on a rock and falling into the cold, polluted water. I grabbed
Freddy's arm as I fell and pulled him in too.

	Freddy was upset but only because I'd also knocked over the rock
structure he had been building. He quickly built a fire to warm and dry
us. My eyes were on the sheen his wet body had taken on. He gave me a
strange look when I ran my fingers across his back. A silly grin was the
only reaction I could supply to his question, "What you doin', Maacum?"

       As we huddled around the fire, I learned that Douglas, twelve years
old, had never gone to school and worked occasionally with his window
washing uncle. His father had died of a heart attack a couple of years
before. Both boys were sure it was due to his heavy drinking. Douglas'
mother was a dish washer in a bar and restaurant in the small shopping and
business area a couple hundred yards down the stream where the woods
ended. His grandmother, the old lady who had chased away the dogs then me,
was really his great grandmother. His real grandmother had died the
previous winter. His grandfather was a shoe shiner at a hotel in the
city. All were church goers except the great grandmother. They didn't take
her because she was always farting and making noises, embarrassing
everybody.

	I got home as the sun was going down, later than I should have but
no one said a word. I tried to look a bit sullen so they wouldn't guess
that Freddy and I were back together. Freddy's mother left after washing
the dinner dishes, shortly before eight.

	Freddy, Douglas and I got together every afternoon that week and
Saturday morning. We completed our rock bridge, built a hut of sorts
against the far hill, climbed a large vine covered tree in which we set up
a lookout tower, and fucked and sucked. Douglas could never get off more
than once though he tried very hard on Thursday leaving me with sore jaw
muscles. I was learning to like the taste of his emissions.

	Saturday, we walked down the stream to where the woods ended at the
shopping area. We climbed a large tree and watched white people drive their
cars, get on and off the streetcar line that ended there and white kids go
in and out of the soda fountain on the far corner. We spotted a couple of
teens making out just below the bridge over the stream. Later, back in our
watch tower, we talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up. Douglas'
chosen career at the time was chef in a hotel. Freddy was torn between
carpenter and shoeshine boy. I wanted any job that would allow me to live
in a forest.

	Sunday afternoon, with a fire to keep the cool at bay, we kept our
shirts on while we had two hours of sex. Freddy got off four times. Douglas
finally made it to two, the second time fucking me between my well
lubricated thighs. By the time we gave in to the dropping temperature, the
fire was bigger than it had ever been and we were as close as we could be
to it without burning flesh off our bare asses.

	Monday, it was downright cold. October had arrived. I wore a jacket
to school. Monday afternoon, it was too cold to strip down so I sucked both
my friends cocks sticking out of the flies of their overalls. We needed to
find a warm place where we could be alone. The only place I could think of
was my bedroom.

	"Mommy, I still don't have anyone to play with. I want Freddy to be
able to come here again," I told my mother that night.

	"Dear, we're not going over that again. Now do your homework."

	My parents' racism complicated my life. I examined my relationship
with them as I knew it and found it wanting. In school, I heard a lot about
parent-child activities. There'd been similar stories by children in my old
neighborhood but they hadn't registered as clearly. Parents, I found, took
their children to places other than church. They helped their kids with
their homework. They even discussed things with them. Mine gave me all the
toys and clothes I wanted and a considerable degree of freedom but that was
it. My father certainly never played, much less conversed with me. One boy
talked about his parents both coming to his bed every night to tuck him in,
talk a bit and say good night. That never happened in my house. Mother had
promised to take me to other kids' homes to play with them and arrange for
some to come to our house. Granted, I hadn't been much help but she hadn't
mentioned it after making the promise when she refused to allow me to play
with Freddy.

	I wondered if my parents loved me.

	I told Freddy about my thoughts when we met the next afternoon. He
didn't have a father, he said, so he couldn't comment. His mother was
always working so they didn't do a lot together. But she did talk to him
and his two younger sisters, talked about everything under the sun. And,
every once in a while, a bunch of the families went somewhere together. The
past summer, they'd gone to an all black beach twice. He had no doubt that
his mother loved him, very much.

	'But don' e'rybody got good folks. Bobby Quarles' father when he's
drunk beats the shit outta him even if he ain't done nothin' an' he don'
let him do nothin'.'

	We talked about parental problems and relations most of the
afternoon. Both of my friends felt their mothers were too strict but not so
much to be a problem, except, of course, for not allowing Freddy and me to
play together.

	'If'n yo daddy said so, she'd let us be togetha all the time but
yo' daddy says no.'

	My father's position infuriated me but I had no way to counter his
orders. The concept of racism was seeping into my brain through my father's
attitude and remarks I was hearing in school. For instance, I had learned
the meaning of the word nigger and the scorn which it carried. It bothered
me that my classmates, who didn't know any Negroes other than the
occasional maid, should have such a low opinion of them. It just didn't
make sense that one person would think another sufficiently different not
to want to associate with them.

	Douglas began playing more and more with his crotch. Freddy said I
better do him before he had an "attack". I sucked both boys but really
wanted more. My dick got hard but went completely unattended to.

	Wednesday, it rained but Thursday, the temperature got up close to
seventy aalowing for campfire warmed, half naked all out sex. Friday was
cooler so pants were just dropped enough for penetration. Douglas poked his
out of his overalls again. That night, I went looking for old blankets and
found two that I took along Saturday morning. It worked just fine. We hid
them up in our tree lookout post but worried what would happen to them when
it rained.

	Sunday, after successfully refusing to go to church again, I found
a waterproof Air Force duffle bag my father had in the attic. The blankets
fit inside with room to spare. The olive drab coloring made it more
difficult to see from the ground.

	A few weeks later, I saw an ad in the newspaper for Army surplus
sleeping bags complete with waterproof covers. I really wanted one but had
no money nor any idea how to get to the store where they sold them. I tore
out the page and showed it to Freddy and Douglas. They showed it to a man
who could read. He offered to buy it for them if they gave him the
money. Seven dollars was required including bus fare.

	None of the three of us ever had more than a few small coins. I was
given five cents a day to spend at school. Asking for such a large amount
would raise a lot of suspicion and probably no for an answer. The negative
thoughts building in me about my parents made the decision to steal the
money much easier.

	I was smart enough not to take it all at one time so watched for
opportunities to take a dollar or two in coins as much as possible. Seven
dollars was a lot of money in 1947.

	My father left his wallet on his dresser when he showered, slept or
was outside working on the lawn. Mother's was always in one of her
purses. Over two weeks, I stole nine dollars and twenty-five cents from
both of them and never heard a word.

	Freddy gave seven dollars to the man the following Saturday
morning. He promised to bring us the sleeping bag in the afternoon but
didn't come back until late that night, so drunk he could hardly
stand. Freddy and Douglas searched his pockets but found only a quarter.

	We'd lost the stolen money and our means of buying the sleeping
bag. Douglas felt he could do it himself by asking directions. He could
read numbers so bus lines were not a problem. It was the first week of
November, just days before my birthday, before I'd again accumulated the
seven dollars. Freddy went with Douglas. It took them most of the day but
they found the surplus store, bought the bag and got it back. We had just
enough time to try it out.

	It was warm and cozy though a bit prickly against our naked
flesh. Freddy fucked me while Douglas waited outside wrapped in his coat
and the blankets. Out of sight of Douglas, I kissed Freddy on his cheek,
very close to his mouth as he was pulling his overalls back up. He made no
comment. Douglas clambered in. I had to get on my hands and knees and back
down to the end of the sleeping bag for Douglas to lie flat. We'd never
done it quite that way. Douglas found he could pump up into my mouth and
did so with a fury. Afterward, Freddy said from where he was it looked like
they were two dogs fighting inside.

	Mother apparently remembered my birthday at the last moment that
Sunday. She promised a little party on Monday. We had a cake for desert at
dinner. My gift was a new coat, my fourth. My father gave me a dollar.

	I hadn't forgotten. I was finally going to be seven like the rest
of my classmates. I told Freddy Saturday and requested a gift.

	"But I ain' got no money, Maacum."

	"Then make me something."

	That seemed to enthuse him but didn't distract him from sex.

	Sunday afternoon, the two of them brought a plate with cold
chicken, cold cooked vegetable greens and a piece of cornbread with honey.

	"Ma mama cooked it," said Freddy proudly.

________________________


	My birthday wasn't mentioned at school either but neither was
anyone else's.

	I began developing shallow relationships with some of my less
popular classmates. Being unathletic and uninterested in much of what most
considered of interest, I ended up with that select group found in every
school that is chosen last for sports activities and not included in active
games in the schoolyard. The only boy who interested me at all was a tall,
skinny seven-year-old boy with a huge nose who seemed to have the same
feelings as I regarding Negroes. He never used the word nigger and even
called Tommy Atkins, the most popular kid in class, stupid for saying that
the reason there are separate schools for niggers, his father had assured
him, was because they had to be taught slower than whites and were terrible
at sports. Tommy called him a 'nigger lover'. I took Glen by the arm and
walked him to another part of the playground so he wouldn't get hurt.

	Sadly, our lack of antagonism for Negroes was about the only thing
we had in common. Academically, Glen was one of the slower members of our
class. His interests were zoo animals that he convinced a series of
relatives to take him to visit and comic books. I could take both in small
doses but listening to Glen with that nasal voice of his go on and on about
giraffe necks drove me to hide in the bathroom.

	Christmas of 1947 was a good one for me, not because of the many
toys my parents and grandparents bought me but because of the joy on
Freddy's face that afternoon when I gave half of them to him. It got even
better. Three times over the holidays, while his mother was out buying
groceries or running errands with my mother, we were able to sneak into my
bedroom and make love in my bed. The last time, they came back early. I had
to divert them to the living room while Freddy sneaked out the back. But
we'd had two orgasms each in a warm bed instead of our prickly sleeping
bag.

	The school year dragged on interminably except for my afternoons
and weekends with Freddy and often Douglas though he came less and
less. Freddy said he was working with his window-washing uncle. That was
fine with me. Annoying pubic hair had sprouted around his growing cock that
he was too often pushing too far down my throat. Snug inside our sleeping
bag, I tried kissing Freddy on the lips a few times but he wouldn't allow
it.

	We did vary how we had our sex. I preferred lying on my back and
pulling my legs up to my ribs. That way I could put my arms around Freddy
and enjoy the feel of his abdomen against my cock. Sometimes he'd drip
saliva there so it was all slippery. That always got me off before
Freddy. Then pulsing constrictions of my rectum would take him over the
top. I tried to get him to suck me but had the same success as kissing. He
did agree to jerk me off while I sucked him or he fucked me.

	What I really liked most was the physical closeness sex afforded
us. Freddy gradually became the most important person in my life, easily
surpassing my distant parents. Our play was far ranging. Nearly half my
toys were stashed in our tree lookout. We explored every inch of the woods
all the way out to the new houses being built nearly a mile and a half
away, well past his house. I had my mother buy me extra notebooks and
textbooks claiming mine had been used up. I began to teach Freddy what I
was being taught in school. He was a fast learner and within a few weeks
could write most of the letters of the alphabet and read a little. We could
and did talk about anything that came into our seven year old minds.

	Freddy's eighth birthday was on March fourteenth in that year of
nineteen forty-eight. We found that out by accident a few days before. One
of Freddy's cousins, a sixteen year old named Vivian, was a birthday maven
of sorts and mentioned to Freddy's five year old sister that her brother's
birthday was just a few days after hers which was the eleventh. The sister
made comments to Freddy's mother about her own birthday, casually
mentioning that Freddy's was close to hers so they should both have a
party. The little sister's comments were overheard by Douglas' sister who
told him. Douglas told us. When Freddy asked his mother, she apologized and
promised something for the following Saturday, the day after his actual
birthday. All this happened within two hours on Sunday afternoon, March
ninth.

	Naturally, I wanted to give Freddy a present. He already had a
bunch of my toys at his house and played with others we stashed in our
forest lookout. I wanted something he could use. Even though he was eight
months older than me, we were both the same size so clothes were an easy
choice. I had plenty of everything including some nice coats and
sweaters. The problem was what his mother was going to think about it. We'd
covered his Christmas gifts saying that some families on the far side of
the forest were giving away Christmas toys. Douglas reluctantly backed up
that lie and Freddy's mother didn't have time to check it out. Keep in
mind, he wasn't supposed to be hanging around with me or my father
threatened he would fire Martha as our maid.

 	Freddy needed the coat. His was torn and only had insulation on one
side. But I just couldn't think of any believable source for that coat. I'd
wanted to surprise him but needed his help to come up with a reason for him
to have it.

	We recruited Douglas to help think of something but the three of us
never came up with any remotely viable reason why someone would have given
him a coat. Were he to claim he'd done some work for someone and they gave
it out of the generosity of their heart, already a shaky proposition, his
mother would want to thank them. In the end, the coat stayed in my
closet. Freddy brought me some chicken and cornbread with honey from the
party. I gave him a blowjob and an ass wiggling fuck, the best I could
offer.

	I have no idea what my mother and father thought I was doing all
that time away from the house but guess they were just as happy I wasn't
underfoot.

	Then came summer vacation. Though I fought it furiously, I was
packed off to a YMCA camp to spend four weeks in a cabin with screens for
windows and horrible drinks at meals appropriately called 'bug juice'. We
were grouped twelve to a cabin by age placing me as one of a dozen noisy
seven year olds. Generally, it was terrible. The food was bland. The
bathrooms were 'latrines'. We peed and pooped into smelly holes in a broad
wooden plank. Showers were cold and unroofed. But, at least there was no
hiding bodies. Everybody was naked in front of everyone else. Nonetheless,
I cried for Freddy the first couple of nights. Masturbation to thoughts of
Freddy's dick inside me, with my finger doing his part, was how I got to
sleep.

       There were bright spots during my stay. One was watching one of the
counselors having sex with two of his boys, about eleven, from the cabin
across from mine.

	On about the fifth night, I couldn't go to sleep from fretting over
Freddy. I was sitting up, teary eyed, staring out through the screen into
the dark, listening to the crickets when I heard whispering and quiet
giggling. A door squeaked open and three figures wrapped in blankets darted
out and down the path into the woods. A flashlight came on when they were
about thirty yards away. At first, I figured they were going to the
bathroom but they went on by it. My mind drifted back to Freddy.

	Sunday night, upset at being one of the few kids not visited by his
parents, the only one in my cabin, I again couldn't get to sleep. The same
door opened and three figures followed the same path as before. More for
something to do than anything else, I climbed down off my top bunk, slipped
on a pair of sneakers and, clad in my pajamas, ran after the trio. They
weren't hard to follow with that flashlight bouncing all over. There was a
noisy, wide stream that blocked me from hearing them and vice versa. They
stopped at a picnic area. One boy tossed off his blanket, jumped up on the
plank tabletop, stripped off his pajama bottoms then wiggled his ass back
and forth while playing with a hard on. The half moon revealed that one of
the three was a man. He pulled the dancer by the arm down to the table and
dropped his mouth onto the boy's groin, licking all about his peter. The
other boy sat across from him and watched. The first boy grabbed the man's
head, lifted it and lowered it onto his cock. The second boy put his hand
on the man's head and pushed it down each time it came up.

	My dick responded. I began massaging myself.

	The boy on the table pumped up into the man's mouth. His companion
put his hand between his friend's legs up against his balls. The first boy
said something then sat up suddenly and held the man's head tightly into
his crotch. The second boy quickly took off his pajamas and underwear and
began pushing his buddy off the table but his friend motioned for him to
wait. The second boy didn't. He sat along side his friend and started
pulling the man's head to him. The first boy finally relented and moved
off.

	I was bitten by a mosquito. Up until that point, I was so
completely absorbed by what I was witnessing that I hadn't noticed the high
pitched whining around me. A nasty bite registered the presence of the
insects. I flung my arms all over to chase the annoying bugs away. I
remembered seeing the boy on the table wave his arms several times and now
knew why. That boy now held the flashlight right on the action. I saw the
man's face clearly. It was the counselor for the two boys' group. The
second boy took longer and stayed lying down when he came. I could tell he
had reached orgasm because he grabbed the counselor's head and held it on
him.

	The two boys argued amicably then the first boy again removed the
pajama bottoms he'd put back on and climbed back on the table, this time
tummy down. The counselor spread the boy's legs and pushed his face between
them, obviously licking up and down. Then he stood up, dropped his own
pajama bottoms and underwear and hopped on the table behind the boy. The
flashlight was on the big mancock as he dripped saliva over it. He lowered
himself, his cock dipping between the boy's legs. Was he sticking it inside
of him? That would really hurt. The man lay on top of the boy and fucked up
and down. The boy with the flashlight pushed on the rising and falling
ass. I hardly noticed another mosquito bite. I was masturbating fast as I
could. I think the man and I came at about the same time.

	Eventually, the counselor pulled out and the boy got up. His friend
had a canteen they used to clean up something off the table. I surmised it
was sperm and that the man had cum between the boy's legs as Douglas had
with me with the same resulting mess below.

	The three, again wrapped in blankets, walked quietly back to their
cabin. I followed them at a distance trying to figure how I could become
part of what I'd seen.

	I got a better look at the two boys the following day when we were
all in the pool. I wasn't really in the pool but under an umbrella covered
with suntan oil having burned myself a deep red. The two were very pretty
boys with strong bodies and blonde hair, nothing like puny little me, more
like Tommy Atkins from my class. I doubted the man, well built and
handsome, would be interested in me. Nor would the boys who already had the
man. I developed another hard on anyway.

	I followed the two boys into the dressing room to check out their
cocks in the shower. Freddy had always said that fucking felt much better
than getting sucked. Maybe they'd prefer my tight little ass to the man's
mouth. One's cock was not a lot bigger than mine. The other was larger,
bigger than Freddy's.

	My mind drifted away from the rest of the day's activities trying
to figure a way to get the larger cocked boy to fuck me without being
turned down and everyone in the camp hearing of my offer. I came up with
nothing though I did briefly toy with the idea of speaking with the
counselor and seeing if he'd make the offer.

	At bedtime, I looked at the other eleven boys in my cabin. A couple
were nice and had enough of a cock to fill me up but they were a lot like
the kids in my class. They ignored me when I tried to do something with
them. Non-athletes were not a very popular bunch.

	There was one boy, Jimmy, who had a decent sized penis that he
played with a lot. Our counselor was forever pushing his hand away from his
crotch saying that wasn't polite in public. Jimmy had a thick muscular ass
and strong legs but not much of an upper body. His face was a bit like that
of my first fuck, Carter: squarish and freckled.

	By the end of the second week, I was masturbating every night,
occasionally sneaking off to the woods for more, and in great need of
another body, very lonely for Freddie. Jimmy became increasingly desirable.

	Saturday afternoon, I managed to go to the urinal with him. I said,
"I like to play a lot with mine too but I don't let Mr. John see me."

	Jimmy looked at me, then my hand massaging my penis. "Whatta ya
mean?"

	"I do it in bed and in the woods."

	"No, I mean what do you do?"

	"I go up and down on it like this." I demonstrated my fingertip
masturbation technique.

	He imitated me. "Like this?"

	"Uh huh."

	"Then what?"

	"Just keep doing it until it feels really good."

	"How long?"

	"A few minutes. Wanna go do it in the woods?"

	"Unh uh. Mr. John'll catch us. Anyhow we're supposed to do archery
now."

	"Wait a minute, we can tell him we don't feel good and go back to
the cabin."

	"Anybody can see us in there."

	"No, then we can go back up the trail into the woods. I know a
place."

	His cock had become erect. I was sorely tempted to take it in my
hand. He said, "Okay."

	Our counselor nodded at our request to rest in the cabin. We walked
back past the picnic area, up a hill and over the top. There was absolute
silence, no one in sight. I suggested this was the place.

	I unbuttoned my shorts and pushed down my underwear. Jimmy followed
suit. I lost control.

	"Wanna stick yours inside my rear?"

	Jimmy's eyes widened. He stared at my wiener. "You do it to me
first."

	That was absolutely the last response I expected. I quickly agreed,
thrilled that I was finally going to experience what Freddy and Carter had
so many times. He had no idea how we were going to do it. I wasn't entirely
sure myself.

	"Lie down," I instructed him.

	He lay on his back.

	I was about to tell him to roll over but decided it might be easier
from the front. Freddy was able to get deeper inside me that way. My cock
felt like it was going to burst. I knelt between his legs and lifted them
up and back. He caught on and raised his rear high as he could. I dripped
spit on my cock and his hole then leaned in. I had to adjust the position
of my knees to line up but once there, I poked right inside. It was
incredibly wet and warm inside him. The same butterflies Freddy generated
flew out from my groin. I pushed in hard as I could. Jimmy's eyes were
closed. I lay forward and began fucking, being careful not to pull all the
way out. Jimmy held tightly to his knees, pulling them back hard as he
could. I was then pushing off with my toes, the weight of my body on
Jimmy's and my hands. Each time my cock was completely buried in him, his
flesh against mine, the warmth took my breath away. I understood why Freddy
loved this so much, wanted to do it everyday.

	I don't know if Jimmy realized when I reached my climax. His
position didn't change a bit; his eyes remained closed. I was dizzy from
the ecstasy of the feeling flowing through my body. I collapsed on top of
Jimmy and waited for the throbbing to dissipate.

	"How come you're stopping?" he asked.

	"'Cause it's your turn."

	"Okay."

	He waited for me to get off him then watched me lie down in the
leaves. His cock was hard as a totem pole and stuck almost straight out
from his body. He was one of the few uncircumcised boys at the camp.

	I raised my knees up to my shoulders. Jimmy was very hesitant,
unsure. He spit into his hand, glancing at me probably for approval then
rubbed the spit on his cock. I slobbered into my palm and wet my raised
rectum. He wobbled back and forth trying to line up his cock head with my
hole. I guided him with my hand, pulling him in until his tip was inside my
pucker.

	"Go in, now," I told him.

	He pushed all the way in. His mouth opened; his eyes widened. It
was almost as good as Freddy for me. Jimmy pushed up and down without
withdrawing, obviously immersed in the joy of the moment. I was perfectly
happy to let him do whatever he wanted. It had been almost two weeks since
my hole had had a live occupant other than my hard finger.

	Watching where we were joined, Jimmy started rocking back and forth
rather than fucking, forcing his cock to swish up and down inside me. It
was wonderful. I'd have to tell Freddy about it. Gradually, he increased
the rate of his rocking, forcing me back in the leaves. He followed, moving
forward on his knees and toes, his eyes now closed. I gripped his hips to
stay with him. He opened his eyes.

	"What?" he asked.

	"No, nothing, don't stop!"

	The base of his abdomen was now rubbing against my balls and the
base of my cock. I pulled him tighter to me. He rocked harder, faster. I
felt and saw him tensing. He gritted his teeth and went faster then shook
all over. His cock throbbed powerfully inside me. He dropped on top of me
and gave me a frantic embrace.

	"Wow, that was really neat," he said after a while. "Let's do it
again."

	Now that I'd cooled my cockles, I was a bit more cautious and
worried that we were in too open a place to continue.

	"We better get back now. We can do it tonight."

	He agreed. We dressed and walked swiftly back to the cabin. Two of
the kids were inside changing shorts they'd dirtied probably at the stream.

	After dinner, Jimmy and I told the counselor we were going to the
latrine but headed up into the woods, stumbling in the dark over every twig
and bush in our way. The silence and darkness frightened Jimmy.

	"Let's wait 'til tomorrow," he said already heading back down the
hill.

	The next day was visitor's day. Jimmy's mother and four sisters and
brothers came and spent most of the day with him. Once again, I waited in
vain to hear my name called. I fell asleep weeping for Freddy.

	At dinner, Jimmy whispered in my ear, "Let's go into the woods and
do it again, wanna?"

	I did and we did.

	Jimmy and I managed to have sex at least once a day in every
imaginable location, even the stream. He sat on a large rock under the
water and I sat on his stone pillar. There were other kids as close as five
yards away. We laughed but Jimmy couldn't get off like that. We did it
several times at night right there in the cabin in his lower bunk. We tried
mine but the squeaking was terrible. We were sure someone would be
awakened.

	I showed him how to suck but he much preferred getting fucked and
fucking.

	I forgot about the boys and their counselor from the eleven year
old kids' cabin. I had what I needed with Jimmy.

	Neither of my parents came to visit making the last Sunday as
unpleasant as the others but I knew that later I'd be inside Jimmy and he'd
be inside me. I thought about what other boys might be doing what we
did. It seemed sure most were but very clever about it because, other than
the two with their counselor, I hadn't seen any evidence of other liaisons.

	The end of camp was very difficult for Jimmy. He lived in another
city over an hour from mine. There was no way we would see one another
before the following summer. He gave me his address and telephone number. I
gave him my address but didn't know my telephone number. We managed one
more session on a hill above the cabins. After each had his turn inside the
other, Jimmy suggested, "Let's do it again so I can remember."

	Even though I'd just fucked him, he wanted to go last. That worked
for me too. I preferred to be on the receiving end. I screwed him for a
while and faked my orgasm so I could have one with him inside me. He lay on
top of me and pumped slowly for a long time. That was when we heard our
names being called from below.

	"Hurry up," I told him.

	He thrust in hard a few times and had a slow pulsing orgasm. I left
frustrated but content.

	I arrived at my house just before dinner. The camp station wagon
brought me home. My parents apparently were too busy to pick me up even at
YMCA headquarters right there in the city. Freddy's mother was preparing
dinner. She stopped when I came in and smiled. We'd been reasonably nice to
each other the last few months before I went off to camp. I knew the
situation with Freddy wasn't her fault.

	"You have a nice time?"

	"It was okay."

	"You make a lot of friends?"

	"Well, one, a boy named Jimmy. We played together a lot but he
lives far away."

	"Look, Maacum, I know you been playin' wi' my Freddy an' it's okay
but don' never bring him aroun' here o' I'm gonna be in seros trouble wi'
yo' daddy."

	"I'll never, promise." I lied and gave her a big hug.

	"I'll tell Freddy you home so's ya'll can play tomorra."

	Mother feigned interest in what I'd done at camp but I could tell
she was thinking about other things. My father only said, "Welcome home,"
and ruffled my hair.

	The next morning I was at the stream right after breakfast. Freddy
was waiting. I embraced him with all my strength, tears coming to my eyes.

	"Who told your mother about us playing together?" I asked him after
we'd danced around a bit.

	"I dunno' but she weren't too mad. Din't hit me o' nothin'. You can
come to mah house if you wants."

	"Let's go today but first..." I grinned. We climbed the watchtower
tree and retrieved a blanket. While he was fucking me from the front, I
told him about Jimmy.

	"Who does it better, him o' me?" he asked seriously.

	"You!"

	That seemed to settle that. He lay on me and put his head on my
shoulder. He did do it better. It felt so much cozier, nicer inside with my
wonderful friend. After a while, he pulled out and rolled me over onto my
back. He raised my legs with his arms under my knees and was quickly back
inside, fucking slowly, gently, prolonging our union for the longest time
we'd ever done it. When he finally got close, I hugged him tight and kissed
his cheek by his mouth repeatedly. Just before the pulsing began, he kissed
me softly on the lips. Once his orgasm had subsided, he rolled us onto our
sides, him behind me, pulled the blanket over us and just lay there. I
drifted off to sleep. When I awoke who knows how much later, he was pumping
gently again, not going for an orgasm, just enjoying the feeling. I reached
back and caressed his back and buns. He took my cock in his hand and slowly
masturbated me to a gentle orgasm.

	Although I only climaxed once that day, it was still the most
memorable sex I've ever had.