My 16th Year

Book 1 of Billie Joe's Journey

Prologue

While Billie Joe’s Journey is a reflection of what takes place daily in America, there is no depiction of it anywhere in our media. Billie Joe is invisible in the world where he lives. Like Billie Joe, many LGBT youth have no one to turn to and no safe place to go. After his best friend commits suicide, Billie Joe decides he must leave home to find out what it means to be gay. He wants to find people who are like him and accept him as he is. He never imagines the hardship and emotions he’ll face on his journey to find a place where he’s welcome.

& especially this book is for and about the gay kids who haunted our streets, whether thrown away or forced out of their homes. We all know growing up gay can be hazardous to your health, because we live in a society that values conformity and not diversity. Our street kids are proof of this.

Billie Joe Walker Jr. is about to become one of them.

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Book I, Chapter 1

The Bomb

If you are coming out, have come out, or are going to come out, this story is about a time when I felt I needed to come out or I might die. I came out in spite of the messages telling me I shouldn't if I knew what was good for me. It will become obvious I didn't know what was good for me, but there was no turning back. I still managed to fall in love with Carl, and still am and always will be.

I suspected when I was twelve. All my "boy" friends started talking about girls and acting stupid around them. I was mesmerized the day Drew got his hard after taking his shower in gym class. My locker was next to his. All the naked boys stimulated me, but my self-control as well as excellent peripheral vision gave me an edge. Drew was a year older than the rest of us. He'd been held back. His voice was deep. The hair around his thing was black and thick. It was big in size when compared to the immature and just maturing guys we showered with.

I spotted Drew's thing when it stood out. He turned toward the locker to hide it as he pulled on his socks first. My own interest started to rise up too. I watched his smooth skin as he bent to work on his feet. I caught a glimpse of the pink hole. I made a point to watch it appear when he went to the second foot. I dried myself while I watched him. When he turned to get his pants, the object of my interest brushed my leg with a heat that caught me off guard. It felt smooth, hard, and soft all at the same time. As I felt myself fighting with my self-control, I realized Drew had pulled his jeans on over his naked body. Where was his underwear? I'd never known anyone that didn't wear underwear. I studied him working on his hair and liked the black hairs up under his arm. Drew never noticed me watching.

From that day forward, I picked out a guy each day before gym class. I waited for him to get a locker, and my locker became the one next to his. No one ever caught on. I thought I was probably going through that stage everyone talks about. It confused me, but I never felt better than in the shower and while making sure the guy in the next locker rubbed against me at least once with his naked body. I didn't worry about it, and I refused to think my lack of interest in girls was of any importance at twelve, thirteen, and even fourteen. By high school, and with all my friends dating, I calculated I was probably gay, but I figured there was only one way to know for sure, and I wasn’t that ready yet.

My best friend Ralphie dated two girls for short periods. We never talked about it, but what is there to say about that? I entertained the idea of dating a girl so I’d be like my friends. It didn’t seem right.

What if there was a guy that wanted to date her, but because she was dating me, he didn’t, and maybe he had long term interests in mind, when I didn’t. Maybe the guy moved on and the girl I dated ended up alone, her chance for happiness gone, because of me.

Did I want to play a game like that? No.

I didn’t date and I was happy having the friends I had, and while I wasn’t a good student, I passed my classes and at the finish of my junior year in high school everything changed. It started with my mom.

I was in my room doing nothing at all, when my mother made a most disturbing sound. I was at an age that my parents weren’t very important any longer, mostly saying no to things I wanted. I had failed to mature very fast and I suppose I was selfish and irresponsible about most things, especially my school work.

Wandering downstairs, my mother still had her hand on the phone, though she’d hung it up. The Kleenex she kept in her housecoat was in her hand as she dabbed at her eyes, obviously upset by the call.

“What’s wrong, mom?” I asked casually, expecting to hear ‘so and so is divorcing so and so’ or some such as that, which always upset my mother.

She sat sharply to attention, dabbing her eyes, and saying, “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong.”

I should have asked why nothing had her crying, but I wasn’t that interested in my mother or the soap opera she conducted with her friends. Besides, I had a summer of fun to keep me occupied.

It was later that day that my father upset my applecart and sent my life into a tailspin. I was reading the latest Silver Surfer comic book I’d picked up at the drugstore and was annoyed that my father came into my room with not so much as a knock or a word to warn me.

I dropped the comic on my chest, knowing better than to ignore Pop. He looked different. His usual tidy appearance had given way to the disheveled look. His face came with its usual sternness. I waited for him to lecture me on whatever it was I’d done, hadn’t done, or damn well better do right now.

“When are you going to grow up, Billie,” he snapped, too angry for the typical scolding.

“It’s only a comic book, Pop,” I defended in my usual insolent style.

“I have some news,” he said, moving way faster than was normal. We could go on about comic books for ten or fifteen minutes some days. This was a curious change in his parenting manor.

“It’s Ralph,” he said, stalling out as he got to the name. He turned away, breathing deep as if he was searching for a better way.

“What about Ralphie?” I asked.

“Ralph… Ralph… died this morning.”

He could have hit me with a ten ton brick and it wouldn’t have hurt as much as this. Ralphie and I had known each other all our lives. He was as healthy as me and teenagers don’t just die.

My father said some more but I never heard what. I don’t know what I did or said. There was the funeral. There was talk. None of it made much of an impression, because my best friend was suddenly gone out of my life.

Talk ran through school at a feverish pace. Small towns are like that. While sitting alone at a lunch table at school, I over heard two girls talking.

“He left a note you know,” one blurted.

“No, what did it say?”

“I won’t live in a world that hates me.”

“No. He was gay then?”

“That’s what they say,” the gossipy girl pronounced.

“He wasn’t,” I yelled, standing up and moving in their direction. “He wasn’t either gay,” I said, walking away for fear I might punch the girl with the big mouth.

“They were friends,” I heard one say.

Why I said what I said I don’t know. I’d heard about the note. I’d heard speculation on what those words might mean, but if Ralphie was gay he never told me, but I’d never told him either. I was afraid to tell him. If I had told him he’d be alive. Now, it was all over school, and everyone knew Ralphie and I were best friends.

School ended a short time later and I mostly stayed in my room. There was no place I could go that didn’t remind me of Ralphie. Even my room was full of memories about him.

One evening, just before school was out, I told my parents what I wanted to do. They had no doubt why I wanted to go away, which figured into my plans. Traveling to Seattle to spend the summer with my brother wouldn’t ordinarily be allowed, because my brother was on the outs with my parents, but he was my brother and they’d see this as an opportunity to get back into his life. This trip would cover up what I was really up to

I would go to Seattle and stay with my brother for a few days. One day he’d come in from work and I’d be gone. He’d wait a few days before telling my parents, because he wouldn’t want to bust me to parents he couldn’t deal with, and this would give me the time to get where I was going.

I intended to find out what it meant to be gay. I was going somewhere that welcomed gay people and didn’t discriminate against you if you were gay. I was going to San Francisco to be with people just like me. I wasn’t going to take a chance that I might end up like Ralphie.

My mother was unusually happy on the way to the bus station. Pop was stern, but I didn’t get the impression they were a bit apprehensive about sending me off to big brother’s house. We said our goodbyes and I gave them no hint that I wouldn’t be returning home for my senior year in high school.

It wasn’t until the bus driver punched my ticket and I climbed the steps onto the bus that I breathed easier.

‘So far so good,’ I thought. The first part of the plan was in motion but I’d feel better once the wheels were actually moving.

The bus was packed with a strange mix of people when we left Minneapolis. A guy in a uniform that I believed was Marine came to the back of the bus carrying that big green bag they put their junk in. Actually he was in the Army and I’d end up getting a close up look at his uniform.

"Move, kid," he said gruffly, as if he was in charge of seating. "Let me have the window. My legs are too long to sit on the isle and they’ll stick out. You're just a squirt. Move."

I looked around for a seat in a friendlier part of the bus. There was one beside a little old lady, and one with a little kid that had a mother and three sisters hanging all over the seats. The first decision of my new life had no good options.

I stayed in the back with the soldier. I didn't like the guy, but I didn't much like old ladies and little kids got on my nerves. He threw his bag up top and sat next to the window in my seat. Sticking his legs over in my space, he went to sleep.

Before we hit the Interstate his legs were pressed tight against mine. He flipped up that middle arm to get it out of his way, which allowed him to take up his seat and part of mine. I didn't like being pushed out of my own seat, but it didn’t take long for me to realize there were certain advantages if you looked for them.

I'd only seen one hardon in my life that wasn’t mine. Drew's! I'd seen guys with hard dicks pushing out the front of their pants. They all tried to hide it with their hand, only giving me a quick glimpse. The soldier got one and the way he was sitting, his back and shoulders against the far corner of his seat, while the rest of him stretched in my direction. This made the object that concerned me come closer.

At first I wasn't so sure it wasn’t wishful thinking, but the further down in the seat he slipped, the closer look I got in the bulging. Wishful thinking couldn’t push the front of his pants that way. I knew what it was but not what to do about it.

I’d gotten on the bus wanting to go somewhere to find out what it meant to be gay. I didn’t expect to find it part of the answer in the seat next to me less than a hundred miles from home. My heart was pounding as I wrestled with temptation. Since he was invading my space, I felt justified in letting my hand settle on the front of his pants an inch from the bulge, but well inside my part of the seat.

I waited, for what, I didn’t know. The bulge had my full attention, but I couldn’t move my hand. I couldn't take my eyes off it. He must have been at least as big as Drew, and, since it was still in his pants, I thought bigger. I waited, not daring to do it myself. I just stared and my imagination did the rest.

After five minutes he changed his position again. His bulge pressed really hard right into my hand and arm. I was totally shocked by this. I mean I wanted a little touch of that thing in there, but he like ground it into my hand once he felt me touching him. It was like no attempt to hide that he was rubbing it against me and liking rubbing it against me. It was weird, but not so much that I wanted to stop touching it. I was already pushed as far in my seat as I could get from him.

I did turn my hand so my palm and fingers were on top of it. I closed my eyes and pretended I was sleeping, but I was sitting straight up, and now my own pants suffered from bulges and a growing wet spot inside my underwear. He moved just a little bit, and my fingers closed on it. I didn't mean it. I mean that wasn't what I wanted to do, but my fingers just did it on their own, and he like sat up looking at me. Meanwhile I'm pretending I'm asleep and all, and shaking. He moved around and ended up almost back in the same spot with his hardon against my hand just like before. He sat up to check and see if what was happening was happening to his thing. He moved two or three times in small little moves, but always pushing his bulge into my hand until my fingers closed around it once again. Then he lay still. Real still. But I could feel the thing jerk through his pants every couple of minutes, and when it jerked, my fingers squeezed on it. My heart absolutely was about to break inside my chest, and I started breathing real funny. I tried hard to calm down, but it just got worse the longer I held his thing.

It must have been an hour with me holding it and neither of us moved. I started to feel pretty good about it, like I was getting away with something pretty dirty, and with touching a real man thing or almost touching it. Then I looked at his face and his eyes were open and he was looking at me. I almost died right there. He looked at my hand and at my face. He was young and looked like guys I went to school with. I didn’t stop holding it and he didn’t say to stop.

"Sorry I yelled at you," he said. I been sitting in that damn bus station since early this morning.”

"It's okay," I said, letting my hand slowly slip onto my own leg.

He sat up and stretched.

"Went home before shipping out to Japan. Thought I would spend some time with my girl. She's off on vacation with her parents. I guess I missed seeing her more than I thought. Sorry about that."

He moved the bulge around in his pants until it pointed straight up at his belt. He didn’t miss me watching.

"It's okay," I said, looking at where he put it to see what I could see.

He looked at me kind of funny like he was trying to add two and two and just came up with the three-dollar answer. He looked at the bulge in the front of my pants and then back to my face and then to the place where he stuffed himself. My eyes watched the same place, too.

"I'm Carl."

"I'm Billie Joe. Aren’t you a little young to be in the Army."

"My parents signed for me to go in early. No jobs where I’m from. I turned seventeen at basic training. Going to Jap-land for fifteen months."

"That's young for a soldier," I said. “We’re near about the same age.

“Near about? Where are you from?”

”St. Cloud. It’s west of where you got on the bus.”

"Oh, I’m from Alabama. I was the youngest guy in my platoon but there were three other guys seventeen.”

“Seems young. I wouldn’t want to be in the Army.”

“Not for everyone. I was bored at home. Pa went in when he was young. I just decided to join up.”

We drove on out through South Dakota, and at about the third stop we got fifty minutes for dinner. Carl said we should hurry up, and he acted like I should go with him, so I did. We both got cokes and something that looked like ham sandwiches. They weren't very good, but it filled me up. Carl went and got us a second coke. I tried to pay him, but he said, "I got it."

When we passed the boys room, he said, "We better piss. Might be hours for we stop again. I don't like trying to pee while I'm moving on the bus. I usually piss on myself. I'd rather be standing still."

He laughed and held the door open for me so I knew to go with him and all. We stood beside each other at the urinals, and I used my excellent peripheral vision to watch him pull out that thing of his. It was soft now, but thicker than Drew's when he was on a hard that day. He held it at the bottom, so I got to see the whole top of it. The head seemed large as it was starting to stir while we peed together. There was one thick twisty vein on the side closest to me. My own started to rise up a bit so I had to stop looking at him to piss. He turned when he finished and looked right at me, and mine quit pissing. When I looked at him his was two inches from me as he undid his belt, tucked in his shirt and only then tucked it in his pants so I couldn't look on it any more. Mine stood up in my hand as I watched his and he saw it and all, but he seemed casual about everything.

"Damn, kid. You're bad as me. You better finish up or we're going to miss the bus."

I stood for a few more minutes and didn't piss until he stopped looking at mine. I really got nervous. When we got back on the bus there were two sets of empty seats beside us, but he got back in where we had been before, and I sat beside him like there was no other place. Now I wanted to sit there. I mean he wasn't so bad, but there was a lot more to it than that. I wouldn't have moved unless he told me to move. He didn't. We drove on as the sun was setting in front of us. It stood big and orange right over where the highway was going.

Carl went back to sleep and his leg rested against mine, but the bulge never reappeared for me to see or do anything else with. When we stopped to let some old guy off, Carl sat up and asked me where we were. I didn't really know. Close to North Dakota I thought, but he stretched and lay more on his back so I could see where it was, but it wasn't big like before. I decided since he was back on my side I would let my hand sit on his leg, and I did a little at a time until I ended up with my hand all the way on the top. That's when the bulge came back. He moved around for a couple of minutes until my fingers once more rested right back on top of it. He got real still then. I felt it moving in my fingers. When I squeezed it, it moved even more. I rubbed all of it a couple of times to try to figure out how big the thing was. It was plenty big! It was bigger than mine by a ways and hard. It was way hard then, too, so squeezed it to keep it that way.

I just liked to touch it. I guess I was figuring out why I didn't really care about girls, and it made me worry about what my friends would think. But I wasn't with them, I was with Carl, and my pants were bulging out in the front like his. After a long time of holding it, I realized his hand was ever so slowly moving.

It was dark on the bus except for a couple of overhead lights in the front where a few riders read. His hand was first on my leg and then his hand was on mine. I figured he was asleep, but then I knew he wasn't sleeping.

He unzipped his pants and took it out. I thought I was going to faint and I looked around to make certain no one could see us, but it was way dark. He squeezed mine the same way I’d squeezed his, and I got hot and flustered.

"Go ahead," he said in a whisper. "It's too dark for anyone to see. It's okay."

He put his hand on my wrist and moved my fingers until they were on that hot hard thing of his. I mean all kinds of stuff happened to me. My face went hot. My thing just jerked like mad and all that wet stuff I was putting down in my underwear got to be a serious problem. I was just glad he didn't know what a mess I made from touching him.

He kept holding my wrist on him and turned so it was pointing toward the window, and my hand was over his leg holding it. After a few minutes he let go of my wrist, but I didn't let go of him. I felt it from the fat head all the way down the shaft as he pushed it through my fingers, until it was all out and exposed.

I managed to calm down after about five minutes of feeling him. It was then I could tell what I got in my hand. I mean I knew what it was, but I couldn't really tell much about it. I guess I was too excited by feeling it to be able to realize what it was really like. My first feeling was that I couldn't get my hand around it all the way. The head of the thing was some kind of fat compared to mine. When I touched it, the skin was soft, but underneath the delicate soft skin it was hard as stone. He developed the same kind of leaking problem with stickiness at the tip as I felt it. While my fingers moved allover it he didn't move a single muscle. I could feel his heart beating through his thing.

After moving all over it, I got the idea to do to him what I do to myself when I'm all worked up at night in my room. I figured he would like it. I sure did, but I didn't know much. I moved my hand up and down on it for a time, and he grabbed my wrist and held it so I couldn't do it no more.

"I don't want to get off," he said kinda rough, as he breathed hard around his words.

So I stopped and just held it for a long time.

"How then?" I said after thinking on it for a long time and also getting nerve up to ask him that.

"How do you think?"

"I don't know how. That's what I do to myself when I want to do something."

"You never done this before?"

"No, sir," I swore. "Never."

"When a guy and a girl go together, well they get to know each other, and he puts his inside of her. That's what I went home to do, but the bitch wasn't home. Pissed me off. I got a few more ix more days to get me some. Not with a hand either. I want to do it proper cause it will be the last 'til I get home again."

"Some what?"

"I'm going to get a whore to fuck. What do you think?"

"I don't know. I never thought about. I kinda like this," I said, squeezing his hardon up near the head.

“Yeah,” he said without elaborating.

All this time I'm holding his thing. It seemed odd to me to be doing that and him all the time talking about finding some girl to do it with. I didn't care what he said as long as he let me keep touching him. We fell asleep like that and I woke up in the middle of the night as we rushed down the Interstate. His rear end is up against my front end.

He’d gone soft, but I didn't. I pressed right up against the back of him, rubbing it against his uniform pants. It felt great. I did what he told me not to and got his hard and all. I stopped before I made a mess on myself, but it was about the best feeling ever. I didn't know how he could sleep with me doing that, but he did and I was pretty glad he didn't wake up and belt me for it.

I woke up the next morning alone in the seat. Carl was across from me with his feet kicked up on the back of the seat in front of him. There were six people up in the front of the bus and us in back.

"You wake up, kid?"

"Yeah."

"I figured I'd give you some room. You were kinda all over top of me for awhile."

"I'm sorry."

"No big deal. We'll stop to eat in about an hour the driver said."

I watched the world pass by that window and no longer liked sitting alone. Carl sat on the other side of the bus and stayed quiet. I looked at him an awful lot, but he ignored me. When we ate he went to piss while he sent me for a coke. He told me to go piss before we left. I went alone this time. I really felt bad about that. It was like I found somebody I really liked for the first time, but he really didn't like me or anything. Only when he wanted me holding onto his thing did he really like me. He ignored me most of the day. People came and went as we got into Montana. One guy sat in the rear with us and rode a few hours and got out. He talked to Carl and made me mad about it. At one time there were only four of us, then more got on in a city. I don't know the name. It started getting late after a dinner stop, and all the lights went out, and Carl stood up to get something out of his bag. I sat next to the isle so my face was even with his pants, and I looked right there where I knew it was but couldn't see it. I wanted to unzip him and put my hand in there, but I didn't do that.

"You okay kid," he said, when he sat down.

"Sure."

"Awful quiet."

"Didn't think you wanted to talk to me."

"Nah! Just got stuff on my mind, kid. Going to Japan and all."

"Thought you was mad at me because . . . ah . . . you know . . . and all."

"Shit no! That’s cool. You're cool, kid. Just that you're, well, you know. Just a kid. Don't want to give anyone ideas about me spending time like that. So many seats empty and all."

He leaned over into the middle of the isle and whispered to me, "I'll sit over there later for awhile. Okay? You know? Let you do what you want to Tiger down there. That make you feel better, kid?"

"Sure."

I know I beamed like a stupid school girl when he said that to me. He rubbed it when he sat back in his seat. He looked at me and smiled and rubbed himself until it bulged out. He pressed his hands down on the sides of it so it stuck out for me to see. He smiled at me real big like. He went to looking back out the window and watched the lights come on in a small town we were going through. I kept waiting for him to come sit next to me, but he stayed over there until I fell asleep.

I woke up with my face rubbing against it. He was leaning with his back against the window and my face was in his lap and that thing looked really big from that angle and it gave off a powerful smell. He rubbed it on the side of my face and ran the tip across my lips as I breathed deep and let him do it. I was back to dripping in my underwear again. That skin was so soft. It was the softest thing I ever felt on my skin. It scared me though because I knew what he wanted from me. That's why he got so nice to me. He thought I would do it to him and all.

"You okay with that?" he said.

"I don't know," I said.

"You like it don't you?"

"I guess."

He reached for the front of my pants.

"You like it all right. You're hard as me. Why don't you go ahead. You wanted to know what I like. You can do what you like to it.”

"What?"

"Put your mouth on it for awhile. I like that as much as putting it inside my girl friend."

"I don't think I should do that," I said.

"You'll like it, kid. You think it's good to hold. It's better to suck on, kid."

"I can't," I said.

"Why not. You'll like it."

"I'm scared," I said.

"Come on. You're touching it all the time I'm over here with you. I let you do that cause I know it's what you are liking, but I like it when someone puts their lips on me. You know you like it."

"I never done that before."

"You've done it now, and you like to do it. Look how hard you are."

"I know that. You're hard too."

"Cause you’re on it all the time. That's why I'm hard. Go ahead. You'll like it. You know you want it, kid. You're more horny than me. You want it."

"I don't think so."

"I need it. Man, you know you want to."

"I'm scared."

"You're a sissy. Go ahead and take it in your mouth," his words were gruff.

Once again he brushed it across my lips. Then he placed the head on my lips and moved it all over my lips trying to get me to open wide. The sticky stuff got on my lips. I wanted to barf, but I wanted to do that to him, but I didn't, and I didn't. He held my head and tried to get me to, but I turned my head until he stopped. He stood up and facing me slid his back across the seats in front of us. His dick stood out from his zipper. He pulled my face forward onto it, but I turned my head. He leaned there for a few seconds and put it in his pants and sat back across the aisle. I watched him as he sat in the outside seat but looked out of the window.

"You know you want it," he said, after about ten minutes of ignoring me.

"I don't know that. You want me to want it. That's all. You are the one that wants it. You said you wanted it inside your girl. I'm not her."

"I'll do it to you if you'll do it to me. I'll do it to you first, but then you got to do it all the way."

"No." I said.

"Why not?" he pleaded.

"I'm scared. I never done that before."

"You're a sissy. You know you want it."

He went to staring out the window again. Just after we made a stop and everyone settled down, he came back over to sit by the window. He turned on the light over his seat and unzipped his pants. He watched me watch him like the eye of an eagle. He rubbed it through the cleft in his zipper and let me see the bulge of it hidden by his fly, but didn't pull it all the way out.

Carl grinned at me and said in a very low voice, "That's so when you want it you can get it out. I know you'll want it tonight. You're still a sissy. I told you I’d do it if you would."

He turned out the light and spread out across me and one-and-a-half seats. He made sure the zipper was within my reach. I waited for him to start sleeping before I did it. I could tell he no longer had underwear on, when he unzipped his pants with the light on. He must have taken them off in the john at the last stop. I felt the hair around it as soon as my hand reached inside his pants. It was soft and nice that way.

Later, I put mine up against his ass as I reached over him to feel his inside his pants. After awhile he got back up real nice. It made me more interested when it got like that. I got excited rubbing up against him. When he reached around and grabbed me, I jumped. He unzipped me and brought mine out of my pants. He pulled on it and found the sticky stuff and played in it. I held my breath. I had never felt anyone feeling me naked before like that.

"There. You'll get more out of it that way."

"Your pants are itchy. I don't like that," I said, and let go of him to put mine away.

When I heard the belt buckle clinking I thought he was putting himself away again, but the next thing I knew he was sliding his pants down.

"There. That should be soft enough for you. I ain't a sissy. You go ahead and feel real good. I'll lie here letting you do what you want for yourself while I go with nothing but a hand on mine."

I leaned back over to him and let mine rub against his naked skin. It was like when I first touched his naked thing. I mean hot and faint and all kinds of feelings that kept me from feeling anything. It seemed like I was in the water and a huge wave just ran up over top of me. He reached for mine and rubbed it hard against his skin. He reached for my hand and pressed it on him when I forgot to hold him for a few minutes. It was even bigger when he made me do it. I moved mine up and down on his skin when I calmed down enough to know to do that to feel better and all.

"You do something on me and I'll kick your ass," he said.

"I won't," I said, hoping I wouldn't.

I pulled on him like he had made me stop doing the night before, but he didn't stop me this time. He took mine in his hand again and placed it in his crack. It felt warm and nice like. It just held me real tight against his skin. I wanted to do stuff to him there, but I knew not to. Getting belted would ruin it for sure.

"You try to stick it in me, and I'll kick your ass," he said.

"I won't," I said.

"It feels good though. I never did this before. It's really nice and all."

"Can I do it to yours?" he said.

"I don't know," I said.

"Fucking sissy. I won't go inside you. I'd never fit in your little ass."

"It's what you wanted to do with your girl friend, and I don't believe you won't put it inside me."

I couldn't hold myself still. The more I moved it the better it felt. I also felt like I was going to make a mess all over him, and not wanting to get my ass kicked, I kept reminding myself of my self-control. It worked and I didn't, but I sure wanted to.

At first he seemed real tense-like. It was hard to move much because his muscles kept me from doing much, but it seemed like the more I moved up and down the crack, the more he let me move up and down the crack.

When I got near where his hole was I should have been really made sick by thinking my thing was rubbing against where he did his business, but I thought of that once, and then I thought how good it felt. I made quick passes over the hole, letting my head hesitate each time, which made him tense and I moved on. When it rubbed him there I got a dizzying jolt of excitement, but the thought of him kicking my ass kept me from hesitating on the hole for long.

I was leaking more and more on him the longer I stopped, but it wasn't like doing it a lot, which I was sure he didn’t want me shooting on him. The sticky stuff got on his crack and on his hole, and it felt real nice rubbing up and down across there and all. Like I said, he relaxed and that encouraged me to spend more time near the sticky hole, making it slicker.

I also knew I was getting his sticky stuff in my hand, so I figured he liked it as much as I did. He didn't say anything and pretty soon I was pushing hard when I rubbed against the hole. He seemed to not mind so much any more and rubbing it there made me absolutely dizzy.

We stayed like this an hour or maybe more than that or it could have been less. It’s hard to judge time when you are doing something incredible and are dizzy and all. It wasn't possible for me to know how much time I spent rubbing the hole and pulling on his thing like I did to myself, only I did it slow to make it last. I did real good, considering I was so close to making a mess. I didn't know if I could keep from it. After a long, long time of doing this to him, he pulled up his pants without saying anything to me at all. I thought he was mad again, but then he put my hand back on it, and I held him there until I fell asleep late, late that night some time or maybe early the next morning.

He rode beside me our last day and night together. He never went back across the bus, but more and more people started to get on the closer to Seattle we got. Every once in awhile he'd put my hand on the front of his pants, and he put his hand on the front of mine. We used a small blanket he had to hide our handiwork. It was during one of these times I took mine out for him to hold and he did. We rode like that for a long way on the last full day to Seattle.

When we stopped to eat he bought my dinner and smiled at me a lot. Once we got back on the bus, and people were still moving around, he held my hand under the blanket. I was sure he liked me and I knew I liked him. I didn’t want him to leave me and I didn’t know what to do about it.

When night fell, he put his pants down some more and let me ride against him for most of the night. I did not sleep because I liked it too much and knew it was all the time we would be together. I wanted so much to do something else with the hole of his, but I knew better than that. We could not talk because of all the people around, but he rubbed my stomach and my legs while I rubbed hard on the hole of his. When the light started, we stopped, but I don't think he wanted to stop any more than I did at all.

When we came down to Seattle he started to hold my hand some more. He said maybe we should spend a few more days together. He said I should tell my brother I had to stay with him before he left because he was being there all alone.

Chapter 2

Seattle

The bus pulled into the middle of Seattle after the morning ended. Carl and myself were forced back together again by the press of other passengers, but he kept holding my hand and looking on me all the time. He had no trouble doing that because he sat five or six inches higher than I did. He was most of six two and I was five foot nine when I stood up real straight like your parents are always saying to do. That way he could lookdown on me, easy. We got to talking about dimensions and that's what he told me. I won't tell you about other measurements he gave me. It didn't mean anything to me then because there was nothing to compare with, but I found out later that Carl is a man among men.

I went off the bus in front of him. He held his bag up on his shoulder and his best part pressed against the middle of my back. It took maybe five minutes to get off that bus, and I wanted to wait for everyone to get off and drag Carl back to the back to maybe talk a little longer or something. He seemed very sad when we stood at the bottom of the bus's stairs.

"Do you think your brother would let us stay together?"

"Don't know," I said, but I thought it would be cool. John came out of the depot door as soon as he saw me. He came right up and hugged me. My brother had never done that before, I don't think, but all the time he was looking at this great big green-suited guy beside me.

"Hi, John. This is Carl. We met on the bus. He took care of me and all. I want him to stay with me until he goes to Japan in a few days on account he don’t know no one else."

My brother's hand shot out. Carl smiled as he leaned around me to shake it.

"What have you got in mind, kiddo. I got to talk to Mom and Dad about what you are doing you know."

"Sure, and that's okay, but don't you go telling them I'm staying with Carl in his motel downtown. That's all."

"Wait! Wait! What's this about staying downtown in a motel room?"

"Carl's going to Japan, John. He's fighting for our country. He wants to see the city, not the University."

"We're fighting Japan now are we Carl. They must have missed that one on the evening news. I bet someone's going to be surprised when they hear about it. Kiddo, I'm not sure about this. Let's go back to my place. You guys can see the University District and go to the arcade, and we'll eat. I'm sure you can use some food after all that time on a bus. We'll talk about it. I'm not saying no, but I'm not saying yes."

John grabbed Carl's duffel bag, and we found his car and drove to Last Train To Brooklyn, a coffee house in the University District that has been there just short of forever, or so John said.

It was neat, and they served soup, cider, and all kinds of sandwiches and some pretty primo desserts. We talked and Carl mostly didn't talk, and he kept his knee against my best part. There was no question where it was at. Once when John went to piss, Carl started holding my hand and looking at my baby blues like they might be a double scoop of deluxe Rocky Road Ice Cream or something.

After we ate we drove to John's apartment. I looked around.

"Damn, this is smaller than I remembered, John. Where in hell are we going to sleep?"

"I'll sleep up in the loft. I've got a piece of foam I'll throw down for you two. As big as Carl is, I don't know if two of you will fit on it, but then there's the floor if you can't manage on it."

"I'm a soldier," Carl said. "I can sleep on a quarter laid up on its side."

That was a full-blown speech for Carl. More words than he said since John picked us up. He got into some civvies he had in that bag, and I dragged him down to the arcade. I played all my favorite games. Carl stood behind me and watched. When I say he stood behind me, I mean like he never stopped his body being against mine at all that afternoon. School was out for the summer and so many kids were there that it didn't look too odd to anyone but me. I kept feeling him pressed up in my back and to tease him I leaned back and tried to rub it up and down to make him crazy. Which it did.

John showed up at dark, and we went to IHOP. Carl kept yawning and stretching as he proceeded to clean out the IHOP of their pancakes. After the forth or fifth plate, John and I just watched him go to it. I didn't think anyone could eat fifty pancakes, but Carl did. For lunch he had had an English muffin and coffee, and we didn't eat breakfast, so I guess it built up for him. He had to eat all three meals in one. Luckily it was all you can eat on plain pancakes for a buck ninety nine. I think IHOP lost money on Carl.

Back at John's apartment, we talked and they had beer, and I had an A&W Root Beer from a gallon container my brother kept on hand at all times because back in Minnesota we liked root beer all the time. After awhile, John said he had to get up early to go to work. He laid down a big piece of foam and found a couple of sheets in the closet. We used pillows off his couch. We were about ten feet below where my brother was snoring in his loft.

I don't suppose having a first night in a bed with someone is always like a honeymoon, but if a honeymoon is like the first night in that bed for Carl and me, I want more of those. Now, I kissed Jenny-Jill Janes on the lips when I was thirteen. Mostly because Jenny-Jill wanted me to. I didn't know what the big deal was. Jenny-Jill just didn't cut it in the kissing department. It was like a scientific experiment, no passion.

I kept on my underwear and Carl was wearing those ridiculous green boxers he got out of his bag. I don't know when he got them on, but I guess I didn't all the time look at him because of John. He stood over me after I lay down. The piece of foam was maybe three feet wide. Carl stood there and looked at me in the dimness from a light coming in the back window. He just stood there looking down at me. I thought maybe he was going to start getting mean to me again, but he didn't. I looked at him all over and came to that slot in his shorts where his buckwheat hair curled all up under the hole. I kept looking at the hole wondering about what I knew was just inside there and all. Especially since I hadn't touched it in hours.

Without my realizing it, the head of that thing slipped out the bottom of the leg, and it hung out there for me to discover after a minute of looking for it at the hole there.

"You coming to bed or what?" I said.

"I don't know. I'm thinking on it."

"If you stopped liking me again it's okay. You can not like me if you want."

"You're nuts. I'm nuts for what I'm thinking. You're a fucking kid."

"Yeah! And you're an eight foot kid in a green monkey suit. You’re a few months older. Just because I’m smaller than you doesn’t mean anything. You think those few months make you that much more a man than I am."

"I don't know. I don't know nothing. I'm afraid I'll hurt you, Billie. I wouldn't hurt you for anything. You believe that don't you?"

"Yeah! I guess. If that gets your ass to lying down so I can stop looking up at you. Sure!"

Carl stepped across me to the other side of the foam and kicked off his shorts. He was standing right so the light from the window showed on it and all. I mean he dropped them green things and stood up. That thing swung from side to side with his movements as he moved. I liked looking at it and all and especially at him being naked, but I had other things in mind.

He slid in the bed next to me, and I covered him up with the sheet. In a bit, I got so I could stop gasping for air. I don't know why I felt so dizzy all of a sudden, but either there was a powerful lot of heat rolling off him, or that room was some kind a hot. I don't know, but all of a sudden there was a tropical heat wave inside that apartment. I just lay there still like, listening to him breathe. It was no trouble hearing him. He was really breathing hard.

I don't know what I thought. I don't think I did think. I'd never done anything like I'd done with Carl, but I knew whatever we did, I'd go nutso over it. You don't think about stuff when you don't know about stuff, and I didn't know and I wasn't thinking, but it sure was hot! It was then that I learned something about kissing. I had never thought of Carl as the kissy kind. I thought maybe he'd want me to do something to make him get off, and then he'd go to sleep. I mean I knew he kept touching me all the time, but I also remember what his mission was in Seattle. Then I started thinking why in the world is he here with me if he wants to find some woman to put his thing inside of. Wondering stopped when Carl's lips touched mine. I'm sorry Jenny-Jill, you ain't got no lips. You are a lipless wonder. Carl's lips were like absolutely totally and completely alive with excitement. He just leaned over and his face came real close to my face. I kept trying to see his eyes, but I couldn't see anything but holes, and he got closer and closer and his face hung over mine about an inch away, and his lips just barely brushed mine, like he might be scared a bruising 'em or something like that. Then I knew his eyes closed because the holes disappeared and I saw his lids. I mean there his lips were touching mine, and like the room lit up and spun around and funny crap happened in my groin. I was like so hot I couldn't stand myself, and his lips pressed just a little harder and he turned his head to brush them from side to side across mine, and well, I just kinda melted.

It don't get no better than that. Shit it don't. His tongue came out and the tip barely touched my lips. I knew I was dying. I couldn't breath. It was because of doing this nasty shit. God was striking me dead. I didn't care. Kiss me to death, but just don't stop. If this kills me, I'm ready. I mean nothing ever in my life compared with that kiss. He just kept on with my lips and when his tongue parted them, I at first thought this should be gross with him touching my mouth like that with his tongue, and yet it wasn't gross. It was so hot I gasped for air, and my heart pounded, pounded, pounded so loud I couldn't hear my own thoughts. Not that they were worth hearing anyway.

Once my mouth opened, his tongue slipped onto my teeth. He licked my fucking teeth and gums, and then he hit the button. With all that tongue action, I spread my teeth apart so he could have at them, and that tongue slid onto my tongue. I'd heard of a meeting of the minds, but this meeting was about it! I knew I was a goner, and my tongue and his tongue danced, and my arms grabbed around his chest and I pulled all of him on top of me and that tongue, that incredible tongue! He ground his thing into mine through my underwear. He kissed me and slid it up and down against mine, and the lights were flashing again, and bells were chiming, and I thought if I wasn't dying than I was surely going completely nutso. But I didn't care where I was going as long as Carl was with me.

We kissed that first kiss for maybe an hour and a half. He did slow down to lick my neck, my face, my ears, my eyes. I never knew tongues could be so awesome. Carl's tongue was a magic carpet for me.

"What's wrong with me?" Carl said.

He rolled off me onto his back. He lay with his hands behind his neck and his thing sticking up in the air, and he stared at where I knew my brother was sleeping right up there.

"Why'd you stop?" I whispered.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"Could have fooled the hell out of me. If you don't know what you're doing, I don't want to meet anyone that does! I thought I was going to die you made me feel so good."

"Yeah, but I don't know why I'm doing this."

"Is it really important? Like your business hasn't fallen off because you are. I'm holding you over 'til you can get yourself some woman. I'm your substitute for a night. Let's just make the best of it, okay?"

"It's not like that, Billie."

"Like what?"

"Like I want to be doing it with anyone else. I don't want to find no woman. That's what scares me about you. I want to be with you. I want you and me to be together. I never felt this way before. I mean girls sure, but it wasn't nothing but wanting to get what they got. With you I want to be with you and I'm afraid I'll hurt you, and I think I'm in love with you Billie Joe Walker."

He stopped as if hearing his words shocked him.

"Damn you anyway, you and those pretty blue eyes and that cute face!"

"What's the problem? I can't find anything wrong with anything you've said."

"You mean you think it's all right for a guy to love on another guy."

"No. Not exactly, but I think it is super you are loving on me. You’ve only got a few days. I'm going to be with you every minute you say it's okay. And you want to go off with some bimbo, that's fine too, I guess. I'll take what I can get, on account of I've had nothing till I got you, Carl Young. No one ever lit me up like you do. I don't know what love is. I don't even know what intense like is, but I know I want to be with you and I don't care about anything else in the whole world. If that's wrong, then as long as I'm wrong with you, I don't really care, but I don’t think it has a thing to do with right and wrong. We just got what we got and it is what it is. That’s all."

I decided I should put my hand on his hand, and we held hands while he pondered what I said. I don't know how I could see his eyes then, but I could. They seemed as clear as day to me. He squeezed my hand and then held it to his chest and moved it all over so the back of my hand was feeling the sweat on his skin. His big nipples were like bumps in his hard chest. His muscles were all tight and warm. His stomach was flat with a fine fur below his bellybutton. When he let the back of my hand go into that wiry buckwheat hair below his belly button, my mouth went dry. My eyes glazed over. My heart went nutso again, and my breath, well, I might as well have given up oxygen for a spell.

Carl's hand rubbed hard on his thing as my hand felt the wiry hair and my head felt crazy. I kept watching that thing bob up and down and I had this notion I wanted to get it into my mouth and all. I'd never had a notion like that, but I had never been in bed with any one like Carl either.

He lay there with his eyes closed and rubbing himself with both our hands locked together. I slid down real slow without moving my hand out of his. I could hear a hum real low in his chest. When I got to where my head was right at his middle, I leaned up so my hand stayed in his hand. I looked at his thing, and the muscles were all right there, outlined beneath the skin so you could see them. His thigh was twice as long as mine, but my muscles don't show at all. You wouldn't know I had any muscles in my thigh, but his muscles had lines all around them, and they were long and lean, not big and huge, but very good to look at.

Then I took to looking at it. He was moving it around there with his hand, but the head seemed real tight and bigger than his shaft by a ways. It wasn't all that fat that I couldn't do what I wanted. I watched his face. It was kinda tight like his dick, but he was someplace else. He just seemed to be lost somewhere. I watched the motion with the rubbing and waited for it to get right at the best place, and I took it in my hand and held it up so my tongue could lick it like a double scoop Rocky Road sugar coated cone you get down at Marvin's Ice Cold Delectable Delights.

Carl's eyes snapped open with a click I could almost hear. I ran my tongue all the way around the hard ridge at top. He gulped and gasped for air and pulled my hand up, his palm on mine so the knuckles rested on his stomach, which was in the process of jumping up and down. He stared at me. He didn't say a word, and I really couldn't talk right then, but I could see all that tightness go out of his face. I licked it all around the ridge one more time, and I put the tip of it in my mouth.

"Damn!" he said. Damn!!"

Whatever. As long as it wasn't "stop, stop." I heard him gulping like he had a mouthful of some medicine he couldn't get to go down. His stomach felt like jumping beans dancing on the back of my hand. His other hand covered the back of my head. I slid on past the top and got down a few inches on him. It all tightened up then. I didn't have to hold it. It was standing straight up with no help. I could see the bottom side of it, and it looked like someone shoved a nice round pipe up the middle just under the skin underneath his dick. He had all that fuzzy hair on his belly, but his balls were smooth. Those balls were like small hens eggs, and I took to squeezing them real gentle like and watching them dance inside there and all.

It was a funny taste. It was warm. It was soft, but it was mighty hard at the same time. It's hard to describe sucking a dick the first time. You don't know what to be expecting, and while I never once felt like spitting it out, I wasn't sure what I was doing with it either. Whatever I was doing seemed okay by Carl, who lay there gulping and gasping. That encouraged me to keep at him.

"You better quit it," he said with a strain in his voice.

I stopped and leaned back pulling my hand from beneath his not sure what the problem could be.

"You going to start complaining. I never done this before. Give me a break."

"No. I mean I'm about to nut in your mouth. You ain't ready for that. I'm not ready for that."

On that we could agree, all right. I didn't know what a nut was, but I wasn't ready for any more than what I already had done to him. Not that I was complaining about it. I'd have spent the rest of time down there on that thing of his if he had wanted. It was about as neat as the first time you plunge off the first drop on a roller coaster ride or get the nerve to go off the high dive that first time. Just everything falls out of your stomach and you think you might puke, but at the same time you get this thrill that rushes though you and it makes you feel invincible. I felt pretty damn invincible when he told me I had done good on him and all. Each step of the way he made better.

He wanted to kiss some more, and we did, but I kept one hand on him to make sure it stayed right up there. I liked holding it and touching it. It just made me feel warm all over, like we were connected there and no one could take that connection away. We sucked face for a long time. I know I was dribbling in my undies, but not for long. He got hold of them and almost ripped them off me.

"Get up on my chest."

I thought I knew what he wanted and I kneeled across his chest and got attracted to those nice nipples of his. I went to sitting on them and rubbing my thighs on them. And then it hit me. My pecker got eaten up by his mouth. I about rolled off his chest. The heat shot through my legs, up my thighs, into my stomach, and last but not least down through my balls and up into my pecker that was now buried in his throat because I guess I had gotten a little excited and jumped on his mouth with it.

Now I know I was supposed to like it, and I know I did it first to him, and I know I should have felt pretty good about the whole thing, but by the way he was coughing and choking I really felt pretty bad. I mean no one had ever done that to me before, and I'd never really done anything at all except on a bus with him, so I guess it might be expected, except he didn’t expect it. He’d warned me and I didn't warn him on account I didn't know how quickly I’d overheat. If you take every feeling I had that night up until that very second, multiplying by a hundred million, and you get what I felt at the instant I did to him what he refused to do to me. I nutted into his very lovely throat.

I've heard of premature ejaculation and know it is to be avoided at all costs if you are to be a successful lover, but I couldn't do anything but gasp and go with the flow, so to speak, shoving my pecker deeper into his already full mouth.

He coughed and gagged and choked, and there came a voice from on high.

"What's going on down there? Someone dying?"

Carl choked some more as I got off him and lay back down on my side, shaking like a shithead.

"Something caught in my throat," Carl said.

I started laughing and covered my head with the pillow. Carl started laughing when he realized what he said. He tried not to laugh but he couldn't stop.

"You okay?" John asked.

"Yeah! I just need some water."

"What's so funny?" John wanted to know.

"Nothing," I said.

"You awake, too, kiddo?"

"How can I sleep with him over there choking and coughing? Boy needs some water bad."

"You want me to get up?" John offered.

"No, sir," Carl said yanking on his boxers. "I can get it. I'm getting some now. Sorry I woke you, sir, I mean John."

"Okay. Get some sleep now."

"Yes, sir," Carl said, sitting at attention with that thing sticking out of the hole in his boxers.

Carl cleared his throat a few times.

"You guys can get that motel room tomorrow and maybe I can get some sleep."

"Yes," I said without speaking the word. Carl smiled and said it back to me as we silently slapped hands.

"Damn," echoed from upstairs as John rolled around his bed, "Can't be too soon."

Carl lay down. I leaned over to kiss him. I tried to do what he did to me, but it wasn't the same thing. I mean nice and all, but with him on top of me it was like heaven fell on me and all. With me on top of him it was like I might roll off if I wasn't careful. I just did the best I could. Luckily he picked up where I left off, and before long I didn't know which end was up, though I could always tell by grabbing on to his best part for balance. He didn't seem to mind.

"I'm sorry," I said during a short break.

"Sorry about me being here?"

"Asshole. Sorry I did that in your mouth. I didn't know I was going to until I did. No one ever did that before. It just happened."

"It was okay. I mean at first I thought I would upchuck, but then I looked up at you and was happy I gave you that much pleasure. I hardly even put it in my mouth when that thick stuff was pouring down my throat. If I'd been ready I wouldn't have choked so much. It was a surprise for both of us. I never did that to a guy. Never thought I would. Just seemed like the right time to go ahead and try it. With you I mean. I wanted it because it was you. Not that I'm going to go roaming around the barracks to look for guys to deep throat. I mean, I never even thought ‘a doing that 'til I met your fucking ass. You've turned me queer in less than a week. I was a normal pussy loving, red blooded, American, fucking, fighting, red neck until I got with you. Now I'm a fucking cock sucker. Go figure."

"Damn if you ain't taken to oration as well as dick sucking."

"What's that crack mean?"

"It means you just said more in a minute than you've said since I met you."

"Do queers talk a lot, too?"

"I don't know, Carl. There was no evidence I was queer until I met you," I said, giving him as much credit as he gave me.

"Maybe we caught it on the bus."

"I don't really care as long as we both have it."

Carl did just what I needed. He rolled over on top of me and did the thing with his lips again. I mean like it was the most gentle kind of thing ever, and the next thing I know he's licking my tonsils. As hot and crazy as he made me before, it was even more intense now. This time he rubbed that thing up and down my stomach and between my legs. He lay on top of me and I held him with my thighs and he pumped up and down. I grabbed his ass, holding on by putting my fingers in his crack. His ass was a big dimpled muscle. There was little fleshiness in his entire body, and my fingers could feel the silky skin inside. Each time he raised up, sliding up on my thighs, I fingered the hole. It felt different from everything else. It was rough and soft, and there was something about it that captivated me. I remembered rubbing against it the night before, and I remembered what I wanted to do to it, and I almost shot another load with him humping my thighs and me fingering his butt.

I had to think about the wart on the tip of my third grade teacher's chin to keep from making another mess.

It helped.

Chapter 3

Alone Together

Sometime during the night I fell asleep with my lips against Carl's. I didn't want to go to sleep. I didn't want to sleep until Carl left, but my body didn't know what to do about it. When I woke up I recognized the position with my best part resting in the crack of Carl's butt.

Naturally it was.

My hand was around Carl, and he held my wrist, and guess what my hand held? Ah, sweet mystery of life I think I’ve found you. And, yes -- naturally he was.

I had no urge to do anything. It was daylight and I knew John would be up and about before we could get anything done worth doing. It was fine there holding him. It was fine up in the warm moist crack. I think I was supplying the moist part. Carl was quiet. I loved the feel of his skin. He was so big and so rugged looking and yet so smooth and nice to touch.

As soon as I squeezed, he pushed his hips so every available inch slid through my fingers until my hand was in his pubes at its base. I squeezed again, which made it thicken and harden as his smooth ball sack brushed my hand.

When that tight butt of his moved back, back, back so my best part slid across the a’hole and up the length of his crack. That had me wanting to do something, but I heard John's feet hit the floor above us. Once more I slid across the hole, longing for more time but having none. The slick trail I’d left made my travels up his crack that much more inviting. It just made me want to do something even more, so I squeezed him and pressed forward, feeling him pressing back on me.

My mouth opened and I worked my lips up his back as steam started coming off me. I stroked him in long full motions. He pressed harder back against me and wrapped one of his long arms back around me, pulling me tight against him. He pressed his body back, which welded us together. My head almost burst open when I felt my dick breaking through his resistance, but instead of rejecting me, he continued his backward motion.

I was dizzy with delight, going further than we’d gone before. My body shook, my mind raced without a destination, unlike my dick, which pushed forward with a steady momentum taking me into him as he wiggled and riggled his ass, encouraging the hole to open wider as a moan came out of him or me or maybe both of us and I moved back to see myself just ever so slightly inside of him. I felt faint and gasped for air and wanted to do to that hole what I did to his mouth, but I held myself back from it knowing there was no time.

"You guys get up. We're leaving in ten minutes. Got to get you downtown before I go in. Time’s a wasting."

Carl rolled out of my reach. A sticky clear liquid followed him from where we’d been attached to where he came to rest on his heals, watching my dick do a desperate dance, bobbing and twitching as it emitted more clear liquid as my eyes pleaded with him. It would only take a minute. We had a minute.

"Damn thing gets bigger every time I look at it. You're going to be big as me. For a little guy you got a big pecker.”

“I’m not that little and you looking at it isn’t what got it all riled up.”

It only took one glance for me to know he was trying to make me feel good under difficult circumstances. I was never going to be big as him but my mind was on other things as I fought with my desire for him.

Carl was already a big man. While I’d continued growing modestly, going from five-eight to five-nine in almost a year since turning sixteen, when compared to Carl, I was always going to be medium sized, equipment included. The idea he wanted to make me feel good suited me fine, but it didn’t feed the Bulldog and the Bulldog was as hungrier as it had ever been.

“We better get dressed! We've got plenty of time later," Carl promised.

“I’m dying now,” I said, watching my leakage.

“You look pretty good for a dying man,” he said with a smirk, throwing me my torn underwear.

I looked through the hole at him.

"Sorry. I got a little turned on last night," a sheepish voice admitted.

“You telling me,” I said, smirking right back as I grabbed for his dick.

He dodged my advance.

"Really, I don't remember. I was drinking beer last night. I can’t seem to remember a thing."

"Yeah! Right! Root beer, Ass hole. Don't try to pull that crap on me."

- I watched him dress still holding my underwear. He watched me right back, never taking his eyes off me. There I lay, naked as a Jay Bird, and I didn't feel any embarrassment at all in front of Carl. Seeing his face in the light was only slightly more incredible than seeing it in the dark. His freckles ran across his nose to the top of both cheekbones. His eyes were flawlessly clear and a rich brown. He stared at me and brushed his lips on mine as he bent for a sock nowhere near me. They opened ever so slightly and he nibbled mine, first the top and then the bottom. He closed his eyes and moaned. I grabbed him and pulled him on top of me and slid my tongue all the way in his mouth as he tried to keep from crushing me by rolling over above me instead of on top of me.

"I'm a fucking grunt and I've fallen in love with a fucking guy. What's next?"

"Maybe we'll run away to Mexico and say screw everyone."

"The Army don't take kindly to desertion."

"Write ‘em a note and tell ‘em you're on extended vacation. Better yet. Tell them your boy friend doesn't believe in violence. Tell them I'm a complete and total pacifist."

"Right," he said as he sprang up and stood in the middle of the foam.

His balls were out of his fly hole, swinging below his dick, which arched down before arching back up with the thick well-defined ridge marking where the head took over with a wide-open pee hole that made it appear armed and ready to do business, making it all the more remarkable to me.

I examined myself but got no sense my dick had the character his dick had.

"I haven't been soft in five fucking days. I've got to do something soon," he confessed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go to sleep. I'm just a kid and all. What do I know," I said in my kid voice.

"Yeah! Right! You look little but you’re forty when it comes to readiness. It's not your fault anyway. I could have kept at you, but you looked so peaceful, and I like just being with you. It's not like sex is all I like about you. I mean there are obscene things I want to do to you, but it isn't like I won't live if I need to wait."

"No more sex, huh?"

"Don't get wise. Wiseass. Tonight your ass is mine, kid."

"You must be kidding. No way, José. I think the Army is calling you, Ponyboy."

"Yeah! See my problem. I need it bad, and you're too fucking small. I'd rip you apart. That's what scares me. If I didn't like you so much I wouldn't care, kid."

"You said I had you close last night. We'll just keep going. You did it for me. I can do it for you, Ponyboy."

"I don't want you doing that. I mean it was okay and all, but I don't want to do anything to upset you. That might upset you. It don't seem right me being so much bigger than you."

"Didn't upset you last night."

"I'm better equipped to handle it, being older than you, kid."

"Right! When were you seventeen?”

“A couple of months. Nearly.”

“My birthday is less than two months. By your math, Ponyboy, we’ll be the same age then. Besides, it’s the first time either of us has done anything.”

“I never said that.”

“With a guy?”

“Oh, yeah, with a guy. I’m still older.”

“You sound like a little kid. What difference does a few months make, old man?”

"Shut up."

"You guys dressed? Five minutes," John called from the top of the stairs. I scurried around, putting my clothes on going in a circle.

I managed to get everything but one sock and my shoes on when my brother came downstairs.

"You guys ready? Let's go. There's a motel a street over and five or six blocks up from Pike Street Market. It's not far from the Needle. I'll drop you off there and Carl can get a room. It’s an easy walk downtown from there. Lots of great stuff and awesome food around there."

"I remember. It hasn't been that long we were out here."

"Yeah, kiddo. I forgot. Just reminding you. Come on guys, let's get moving. Make sure you got everything Carl."

My brother dropped us off in town and reminded me to call with the number so he could reach me if our parents called. I assured him I would. The room had one bed. It wasn't Holiday Inn, but Carl wasn't my parents. There was no pool, but it was forty eight degrees in a light drizzle, so we didn't miss it. We were immediately back on the street, excited by the idea of taking our first excursion together.

We went through Pike's and picked up the fish, and played with the vegetables. We ended up sitting at a window in the middle restaurant and watched the ferries come in with the hordes going downtown to work. Carl's knee rested inside my legs. My hand rested almost on his crotch, but I couldn't quite reach it from under the small table built for two.

We kept laughing for no reason. I felt giddy. After I kept stretching to feel it, he ran it down his leg so I could hold it while we drank coffee and ate sweet rolls for a couple of hours, staring at each other like a double feature was running on our eyeballs. He put his hand on my hand as I held onto his business end.

I can’t recall ever caring less about food. I don't think I even knew what I was eating. Carl insisted on paying. We went through the shops in the lower part of the market and ended up in the arcade with him standing directly behind me as I played.

We sat on a bench on the infamous strip after getting burgers at the McDonalds a few blocks away. Even at eleven in the morning the bimbos were walking it. I watched Carl, but he didn't seem to be aware of their presence. I kept thinking he only wanted me for one thing, but I was the one that kept wanting to do something.

"Let's go to the room," I said as he polished off his second burger.

"It's not noon yet."

"Your thing on a timer?” I asked, as he gave me a quizzical look.

“No,” he answered.

“Never been before. It's always ready when I touch it."

“Billie Joe!” he said, looking around uncomfortably.

“Carl! I ain’t going to wear it out.”

"I know. I don't want that to be all there is between us.”

“Well, if it is I can’t think of anything better to keep between us.”

“If that's all there is we can do that any time any where. I want to have fun. I want you to have fun."

"You do. Good, let's go to your room."

"Is that all you think about?"

"Carl, I'm with you, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course it’s all I think about. We haven’t done anything yet.”

That's not a very smart question. I don't think about anything else. I still keep thinking we've only got a few days. I don't want to say good-bye thinking we could have spent more time doing it. Let's spend more time doing it, and then we can say good-bye and be happy to get a rest from each other."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Jesus! Will you grow up. I'm a big boy now, Carl. I've become sexually active, Ponyboy."

"You telling me. You were buried in my throat remember. You're right fat for a little sucker by the way, and this morning, well you were almost buried some place else. Pretty neat, too. It was like being part of each other. Cool, huh." Carl said, taking a glance at the sky as if looking for heavenly help. "What am I fucking saying? I'm a fucking soldier!" Then he looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Let's go to the room and you can be the sucker."

"You're the sucker," I answered playfully.

"You're the sucker," he said.

"Well, now that we've got that settled, let's go get some practice."

"Right. Practice, practice, practice. Got to get it right."

"Now you're talking my language."

I stood up and pulled Carl to his feet. I looked up into the sky to see his face. He was beautiful. We strolled up to the hotel and we held hands on one block until a lady started staring. He opened the door and held it for me. When I passed him on my way into the room, I checked him out.

“Still hard, Ponyboy?”

Man had the constitution of a Brahma Bull.

Send in the Army!

He followed me to the room and hung the do not disturb sign on the door and locked and then chained it. When he turned around I undid his gold belt buckle and unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. I moved his pants and boxers over his hips and down to his ankles as he watched. I knelt and took off one shoe and a sock and then the others. I pulled off his pants and tossed them on the bed.

From where I knelt I looked up at him naked below the waist. His hands were on his hips and he looked down on me. His legs were like strong, sturdy young tree trunks. The golden and buckwheat hair mingled below his belly button glowing in the light cascading through the partially opened louvers of the Venetian blind flooding the room with defused random rays.

I ran my hands up his thighs, closing my eyes to experience the muscles he tensed for me, under my prying palms, without seeing. Sliding my hands to the inside, he spread them to allow access to all his private places. Moving upward, the skin on the insides of his legs became smoother as sparse disappeared as my fingers touched the space behind his balls.

He moved, quivering slightly as a moan of minimal volume escaped from above. He let his hands dangle to touch my shoulders, tracing my jaw until my face was in his hands. I sighed, turning my face in his hands, licking his fingers and then the tip of his raging erection. Kissing the tip my fingers delved behind his balls until they touched the bottom of his crack. My tongue flicked the tip of his dick and a louder moan followed the first as his hands barely touched my skin.

A kind of evil electricity had me touching, feeling, tasting the excitement he exuded as a surge of electric excitement made everything fuzzy but Carl, who was in precise focus as I teased his body in any way I could, knowing nothing and wanting to give him everything. I was mesmerized by him and nothing existed beyond our motel room.

Pulling me to my feet he looked down into my adoring eyes as I moved to pull his shirt up off his stomach toward his shoulders. He lifted his arms I got it up over his face and couldn't get it up over his outstretched arms that nearly brushed the ceiling. I jumped and tried, and he laughed at me with a face I couldn't see. He pulled the shirt up and I studied the buckwheat colored hair under each of his arms. I moved my face into the middle of his chest and he tossed the shirt away, placing his arms around me as my face basked in the warmth of his skin.

He kneeled before me and unbuckled my pants, pulling them and my underwear to my knees. He moved his face onto my crotch and kissed my most excited part. As he took off my shoes and socks his face leaned into my thigh and I hung out across his face and into his hair with my sack almost ending up in his ear. He threw my clothes to one side and pulled my shirt up over my head without having any trouble reaching over my outstretched arms. His thing rubbed up against my stomach and chest and I grew faint and held it to keep myself steady. Having gotten rid of everything between our bodies, he looked down into my eyes. His face held the most marvelous expression as he looked at my face. I felt quite crazy. I don't know why. I felt like I'd never been alive before. I'd only lived a tiny little bit, and I think it was then I understood why sex/love/intimacy was such an attraction for the young. Life could be hard and cruel and tough, and when you find out there is something so good, you can't say what you feel in words. You just blossom inside as the arms of the one you love keep you safe from all harm.

In a sweeping motion he picked me up without talking to me. I felt odd in his arms. His thick chest seemed even larger and I placed my face against one of those dark nipples and let my lips open on it. He stood in the middle of the room holding me, and I nursed for the first time since I was a child. The object of my attention grew firmer and, while I was lost in my own world, he laid me on the bed and stood over me. Every muscle was defined, his skin gleamed, his eyes glistened, as his best part stood at attention.

Neither of us spoke. He stretched out beside me and his lips brushed mine once more as he collected me in his arms. Being alone together brought me to a new level of joy. The more he moved on top of me the closer I came to erupting in an endless stream of ecstasy. His thigh pressed against mine and the feel of his skin was like a hot electric charge as his mouth pressed against mine. Almost instinctively my fingers ended up back in the crack that always called to me.

I could feel him rubbing slowly on my thigh and side as his body writhed ever so gently against me. Once more I forced myself to think of warts and somehow kept from ending a moment I wanted to go on for the rest of time. My hands rubbed the skin on his ass, his hips, his back -- drinking up the best of hard gristle and soft skin. We rolled and twisted and rose and fell together there in that bed. The kissing spread from lips to parts and pieces previously untouched by kisses and love. Before I was ready to go back to my teacher's wart, he captured me unaware and devoured me. Being quicker than the night before I fought to return the feel of it, but no sooner had I found him, and in bold motions swallowed all I could, than it served to propel me suddenly into lands unknown. I tried to remove myself to prevent the embarrassment of the night before, but his strength dominated me, not allowing me to get away. He buried his face in my hair while I pulsed and drained for what seemed like ten minutes. My body quivered, shook, and shot into his, and he held me tightly deeply inside. There was not a cough or a sound this time. Carl worked at making it last and better for me as his large hands gently cradled my butt cheeks, using them to hold me in his throat as the spasms subsided into gentle motions like rocking on a soft sea.

The world stopped spinning after a time. We lay still as I was determined to give him a part of what he'd now given me twice. As I worked to regain my rhythm his mouth set me free. In a single motion he pulled me up so that my face looked at his.

"I want to do it for you."

"Relax. We have time. Lie with me and give yourself some time. Your heart is pounding and you can hardly breathe. I'm too big to struggle with. When you rest you can try again."

"Why did you let me do that."

"I wanted you to do that. You took me by surprise last time. This time I was ready."

"It's not fair. I want to make you happy."

"Billie, I've never been happy until I met you. Not once have I been happy. Making you feel good makes me happy. I thought it was just about getting a nut, but it isn't like that. It's about you. It’s about wanting you. It’s about having you. That makes me happy."

"But you haven't, and it isn't fair. That's twice now you did that."

"I'm not counting. It isn't about how many or how much. It's about being with you! I don't need it right now. I'm satisfied by satisfying you."

"It's not fair."

"Life's a bitch. We’ve got time. No hurry."

"Yeah!"

His lips pressed on mine as we faced each other and he kept his hand on my face as he kissed me into oblivion. I don't know how long I slept, but I woke in that position sleep always ordered up for us. Whether he positioned himself for me, or we just welded together in our sleep, I do not know, but the warmth of his crack ate my once more hungry self. Even without thinking it prodded at the object that called me. I wanted to get down to the spot and examine it with my eyes, fingers, lips and tongue, and, most of all, I wanted to know what was inside. What it would be like to be part of him.

Chapter 4

The Whole World Loves A Nut

From beyond the window, bright rays tumbled through the blinds, making the air glow. I leaned my face on his side so I could see where my hand was in front of him. Even asleep, he stood straight out with that slight bend making the head stand at an upward angle. There was a light purple vein that ran from behind the head all the way down into his hair where I moved my hand to see the whole shaft. I slid it up and down to feel the texture that thrilled me. The head still seemed like it might pop, the way it was so full. The shaft was white, tending toward a ruddy color. The vein was darker. On his stomach, above the shaft and bush, was a very faint trace of blond hair that stopped at his belly button. There was no other hair on his stomach or chest. His skin was so light it seemed like he must never take off his shirt outside. But his arms were brown from the weeks of basic training that toughened him to the max.

Stroking him I squeezed to make the head puff up more. I slid very slowly down to just below the brown ring, and then the rest of the way into his hair. I still pressed against him from behind, and I didn't want to wake him up. I thrust gently into that special area, and just enjoyed the pleasure his crevice gave me. It seemed like the perfect place to rest up. I slipped my other arm up under his back and ended up with my hand on his chest. I immediately went for one of the nipples that felt so irresistible. My finger and thumb squeezed it to make it poke out even further. He didn't move or stop sleep-breathing. I let my face rest on his back and just had to lick his skin and put my lips against it. After awhile, my heart slowed again, and I drifted back to sleep.

The dark startled me. The empty bed scared me. It shocked my eyes wide open and I could see a slight light between the slats of the blinds. I sat up and my heart pounded more than when I had finished up with Carl. I don't know why I was so scared, but it was sheer terror. For an instant I thought Carl was gone. He'd taken his bag and left me. It was when my heart stopped pounding in my ear that I heard the shower. I jumped from the bed and pushed open the door, needing, needing to look at him. I pulled back the curtain and he leaned his arms against the tile while water washed over his head as it tilted between his shoulders. He jerked when he heard the shower curtain. His face showed surprise as he looked at me.

"I thought you left me."

I started to shake and I guess some tears came to my eyes because he got all excited.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm here. Come on. Let's shower together. I just needed to wash. It's been a couple of days you know.”

"I know," I said, as I stepped into the tub and he held me in his arms as I cried on his chest.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here. Don't cry."

"It scared me. I don't know why. I don't get scared. I woke up alone. I went to sleep. You were in my arms, and I woke up cold and alone. It was terrible."

"It's okay now. I won't leave you."

"You are leaving me. You have to leave me.”

Tears continued to run down my cheeks, mingling with the warm shower spray. He didn't say anything. We both knew that time was running out. I hugged him tight and took the warmth from his body and the shower.

This calmed me, and for the first time I saw Carl when he wasn't turned on. He was less intimidating soft, but I had to pick it up and squeeze. It took all of about a second for it to lengthen and stand out through my circling fingers. I kissed it and looked up into his face.

"You happy now? Your pacifier is standing up for you."

"Yeah!" I said, and smiled for him. The fear was gone for the moment. The specter of him leaving me would never be far.

"Tell them."

"Tell who? Tell them what?"

"Tell them the way things are with you and me. Tell the Army you can't go."

"I can't do that. I've signed papers. I've got to go. I won't back out of it. It’s my duty, Billie Joe."

"Not for me?"

Carl stared down at me. His eyes were sad, but there was no sign of him giving in to me on this. He held me reassuringly close.

"It's something I can't do. I can't say that. I can't tell them what I've done," he explained.

"You are ashamed?"

"Now, I'm scared. If anyone knew…. I can't tell them that!"

"I know. We'll be okay," I said, trying to reassure him not knowing what I’d do without him.

Kissing in a shower was special. I liked the feel of the water running down my face almost as much as him pressing against me. He rocked me as we kissed. He started to work soap into my shoulders and back while we embraced. I leaned over to kiss his thing but I couldn’t stop there and I tried to swallow more than I could handle.

I choked and coughed as he laughed at me for my youthful enthusiasm. I cleared my throat and went right back at him, causing him to lean back against the tile. His knees bent as I went to work on him with no less enthusiasm but a smarter technique.

"Damn! you're getting pretty good at that."

"Not good enough. I'm going to get you there. You’re still two ahead of me."

"You don't have to do that, Billie. I’m not counting."

"I know that. You think I think I gotta do this? Give it up, Ponyboy. You're mine."

Somehow we were kissing again and I was starting to think there was some kind of conspiracy at hand. We ended up soaping each other with large gobs of lather and it ran from the walls, the curtain, and us. It circled round and round the drain in the tub. Carl let his long arms soap up my best part with more gobs of suds, and he washed between my legs and soaped up my crack and ran his fingers down to the backs of my legs. It was then I decided to turn the tide. Using the slippery lather to turn in Carl’s arms, I slid my slick rear end up against his well lubed pole. Once he was trapped in my crack, I used my butt to massage him. Each time the distinctive hard ridge marking his dickhead crossed my a’hole, a spasm ran through me, which had my dick jerking in Carl’s soapy hand. He slumped across my back, his body glued to mine, breathless, panting in my ear as I forced myself back against him.

I wiggled and squirmed bouncing my backside against him, seeking to give him access to my inner sanctum. He simply slipped and slid across the target squirting off in another direction. I suspected Carl wasn’t being of much help in my quest to take all he had to give.

He leaned across my back and held my shoulders while doing nothing to assist me. Once he deserted my throbbing cock, I got mad, going a little nutso trying to get him inside me. I finally positioned it right by reaching back through my legs and using my fingers to aim it properly.

Just at the instant I thought I was making progress, he diverted his dick.

"Don't stop me. I'm going to make you happy. I'm going to do that for you," I said with absolute determination.

"No! You can't. Don't you understand I'm too big? You're too small. It won't fit, Billie. Quit it! You can’t make me hurt you."

"I want it,” I said stubbornly. “I want you to be the one to do it."

He turned and leaned both his hands flat on the tile and let the water cascade down over his super short hair. I went around his leg and stood behind him watching the suds roll off his shoulders and into his crack. I put both of my hands there, diverted from my mission by the soap I now massaged into his hollow.

His legs spread and he leaned forward, giving me any access I desired. My fingers sought out the spot that always drew my attention. The soap made everything even better. Leaning forward, I pressed my best part and the soap he spread over it into the slippery crevice. I stopped long enough to catch my breath and reached around him to spread soap over his dick at the same time.

"Go ahead," he said in a low raspy voice.

"What?" I said, not prepared for a sex talk.

"What you've wanted since the first night on the bus. What we almost did this morning.”

“Oh,” I said, not able to find any words that fit.

“It's okay. It’s what I want. I'm ready now."

"I won't. I won't until you do something. It’s not fair. I haven’t satisfied you once."

"Do it for me. I need you inside me. Then I'll nut big time."

"Really!"

That was enough to have me pressing hard at his backdoor. The soap allowed me to slip past the tight ring around his hole. The feel was incredible, but before I could set myself for the assault he pushed back against me until he was all the way down on my cock hair. When I remembered his dick in my hand, I pumped slowly as it pulsed and jerked as I stroked him. It thickened and grew harder. When I squeezed it he rotated back hard against me and lifted and dropped himself back down on my erect dick.

"Go ahead. You do the work. Let me know when you’re ready to nut. I’ll time myself so we do it together."

I was already too dizzy to know what I was doing. My knees were buckling and each time I slipped up or back, he countered, and then, when my motion changed, his changed. We worked in exact opposite directions but it was a perfect synchrony. I pressed my face into his back and used both of my hands on him. Even that motion became part of our marvelous rhythm. I managed to hold myself in check for a change, and the urge to immediately reach the heights of ecstasy passed as I concentrated on doing this for Carl as much as it felt like he was doing it for me. I ground myself into him and changed the motion and speed another time to slow me reaching the inevitable end of the line. His timing changed with mine. It was like being one with him.

I let go of him with one of my hands to find one of his lovely nipples. As I twisted, he moaned. He picked up speed, pushing back hard. I switch to the other nipple, twisting harder. He groaned, pushing back hard, grinding against me as I ran out of tub. Squeezing and pinching, he reacted more vigorously as the heat rose in me. There was no self-control left, only the frenzied driving of two boys driven together by love.

There was a slapping wound that came more frequently as I picked up speed, feeling my juices rising and no longer able to slow our momentum.

"Do that. Do that! Twist it. Yes. That's it. You're doing it! I’m close. Real close."

His voice came in gasps as he pleaded for more of the same. With each few words air shot around them, and gushed out into the tile. I could feel his chest jerking in a struggle to get more air, and my fingers tingled as his heart seemed to have gone crazy inside his chest.

The hole that held my dick tightened on it with a jerk that milked my dick and my juices began to erupt out of me in one hard spasm after another. I was certain that the tight ring that would deny me access was now pulsing, because Carl was getting off at the same instant as me.

It was a glorious union that had us coming together and with a ferocity I’d never achieved on my own. It was grand and wonderful as we panted, groaned, and became exhausted together. It was the best thing I’d ever done. It was the best I’d ever felt. Carl lit my fire and kept it raging within me.

"Here it is. You did it! Happy. Happy. Ohhhh!! Happy! That was amazing."

His words came in spurts as he finished. I leaned around him to see the evidence and I watched the soap and streams of his thick white fluid dripping down the tiles and into the grooves until it reached the tub and torrents of water and soap joined in to circle the drain.

"You okay?"

He gasped for air as he tried to speak.

"Okay? …Okay? I'm fucking fantastic! I never did nothing like that before. I thought I would pass out."

"I think you almost have," I said, leaning around him.

"Sorry," he said, shifting his weight off me as he was still recovering of the tub, still unable to get his legs to hold him.

"It's okay. It's nice holding you up for a change."

"I'd of fallen right on my butt you hadn't been using it. It was fantastic. You were fantastic.”

“I was, wasn’t I?”

“I guess waiting three months has its rewards.”

"Three months?"

“I left for basic a little over three months ago. Haven't nutted since.”

I climbed out of the tub before Carl and needed to take a leak. By the time I was shaking it, Carl was behind me using the towel on my back. He dried my hair and turned me around and dried my chest before kneeling on one knee and doing my legs. He kissed mine and rested his face on me as he did my feet. When he looked at me I was beaming from ear to ear.

"What are you so happy about?" he asked.

"You," I said, beaming.

He stood up and handed me the towel and I worked on his back and shoulders but didn't have to worry about reaching his hair. It was dry that quick and felt a little like a porcupine. I first did the back of him and let my fingers feel the spot as I pretended to just be drying him off. When I did the front I lifted his up to dry his nuts before working over his big softy. He smiled at me as I took care to dry him carefully.

"You something, kid."

"What's that, Ponyboy?"

"You got my nut. You did good. I never got off like that before."

"See, I was worth waiting for. That bimbo of yours couldn't a done what I did for you."

"No! That's one thing she couldn't have done."

I wrapped my arm around his waist as we bounced off the doors trying to get back to the bed. He picked me up and threw me in the middle, and then stood watching me.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Always," I answered, rolling over on my stomach to look at him.

"Where do we eat?"

"We'll wing it. Plenty of restaurants around."

"Yeah! Real food. I want to eat American while I still can."

We dressed and went out. I felt different. There was something about him finally completing the task that made me feel as tall as he was. I knew there wasn't much more time for us, and I suppose he thought about the same thing, but we didn't talk about it. After we ate, we walked -around the wet streets to burn off the energy that came along with the meal.

The night was fresh and the air newly washed and smelled clean. It made me feel light and alive inside and out.

Chapter 5

Is This the End My Friend?

"What are we going to do, kid?"

"Let's go back to the room."

"Will you stop. We got to talk! You know we got to talk about it sooner or later."

"Let's talk about it later."

"Later I'll be gone, and then I won't know what we're doing. I won’t be sure what all this means."

"You going to stay with me?"

Carl looked at me and grabbed my other hand so he was swinging both of them right in between 1st and 2nd Streets where you could see the front of Pike's. Hustler's stood in the doors of the magazine shops and hookers stood just in the gutter all along the block. People in raincoats passed in a flurry, and Carl held both my hands and looked so deep in my eyes I wanted to jump on him to make him stop.

"You know what I have to do."

"Then we've got nothing to talk about, Carl Young. When you leave, you're gone. If I see you again, then we'll deal with that when it happens."

"You won't write me while I'm over there?"

"I didn't say that. I'll write you constantly. I'll start my next letter when I'm mailing one. I'll think of you every night, and my heart will ache because I can't reach out and hold you, but I can't go back now. You've opened the door, and I can't go back to Minnesota, to that stupid lie I lived the past three years. I won't do it!" I looked down at our hands, and my voice dropped almost to a whisper. "I can't do it."

"You're nuts. You've got to go home. You're a fucking kid. You've got to go home."

"I can't Carl. This kid knows what he feels, and if I can't be with the man I love, then I'll go somewhere that people will at least let me be myself. I won't live that lie any longer. I can't, and since I don't know what it all means, I can't tell you I will stay true blue to you. It's not fair you going a way for a year just when I'm realizing what I want and need to finally be happy. It isn't fair, and I won't make that promise to you because I won't lie for you."

"You're too young to be out on your own." "Maybe. I guess I'll find out if I am. I'm going, Carl. When you get on that plane, I'm hitching to California."

"You are nuts! You'll get killed out there. You're a kid."

"Maybe I’m shorter than you, but we’re the same age and you’re in the Army. Besides, I've grown up the last few days. I can't go back home and live like I did before I fell in love with you. No way I can do that.”

“It’s only little more than a year. You’ll be safe there and I won’t worry about you. Please, Billie, go home for my sake.”

“My best friend was named Ralph. He killed himself last month. He was gay and I never knew it. He never knew about me. I’m not keeping it a secret any more, Carl. I need to know there is somewhere that I’ll be accepted and not scorned. I don’t want to face what Ralphie faced.”

“He was your age?”

“He was a couple months older than me.”

“He was my age. I’m sorry, Billie Joe.”

“I can’t just wait to see how it’s all going to turn out. I can’t go back there. I need to find where I belong.”

“You belong with me,” Carl insisted.

“You are going where?”

“If I had a choice I wouldn’t leave you. You’d never need to go looking for a place where you belong.”

“You don’t have a choice but I do.”

“You’d be safer at home.”

“After being with you, it would be like taking a rose in bloom and putting it in a jar and screwing the lid on tight. I'd do just what that rose would do, Carl."

"You're scaring me, Billie. I can't be thinking about you out there."

"Stay with me then. If you stay I won't need to go, Carl. I'll stay with you forever and I won't ever care about what anyone else does or thinks. But if you leave me alone I'm going somewhere that I'm not alone. That's the thing, you see. I can't go back to being alone. I didn't ask for this, but I'm not going to pretend I'm not me. You can do that for your Army buddies. I can't do it. I'm going where people will like me because I am me. I won't pretend any longer."

"Why do you sound so smart all of a sudden? You were a little kid when I met you.”

“Just shorter than you, Carl.”

“Whatever. Now you have all the answers." “No, Carl, I don’t. That’s why I’ve got to go.”

“I’m not gay. I’ve never ever thought about doing stuff with a guy before I met you. I don’t know what you expect to find. I understand though.”

"You’re my boyfriend, Carl. I'm your boyfriend and I know what I am, and I won't live a lie. Not ever again.I've got to go where people want me like I am. That isn’t Minnesota."

"Stay with John, then. He seems cool enough."

"I thought of that, and I could stay with John if I wanted, but my parents would be at him every minute to make me -- force me -- to come home. It only works if I leave."

Carl turned away from me and pulled me along by one arm. He walked one step ahead, and I couldn't catch up without running and I wouldn't run. I just walked as fast as I could to keep from having him drag me onto my face. His legs were long and his strides were quick and decisive. I knew he was angry with me, but that didn't matter to me.

He was leaving me for the Army and I was angry about that. I suppose I liked he would worry about me, and I wanted him to be thinking about me. I wasn't going to make it easy for him. I wanted him to feel like I felt.

"So what's it mean?" he snapped, as he turned and faced me after two blocks.

"You tell me? I’m just a kid."

"Are you going to wait for me or not? I need to know.”

“Of course I’ll wait for you.”

“Do you love me or not?"

"I love you. It’s the one thing I’m certain about. I’ll be waiting at the gate for you when you come off the plane. But I'm not sitting in Minnesota waiting to see if you come back. Not going to happen. I'm just figuring out who I am. I can't put it on hold until you get back to me on it. I've got to go on with my life, Carl. Whether or not I love you, you won't be here to help me make it through. If you were we wouldn't be talking about it. I left home for a reason."

We started walking again and this time Carl's strides were less angry and more thoughtful. He looked into the more upscale shop windows as we trekked up the hill. I kept up by walking quick-like. He stopped another block up.

"Okay, I got to go. You got to go. You do what you got to do, Billie. When I get on the plane I'll be loving you just as much, but you go and do what you've got to do to keep you going until I come home to take care of you. You get yourself killed and I'll kill you myself. You let anyone hurt you and I'll kick your ass all the way from here to Alabama, where I live. I won't say anything about not loving you if you don't wait for me, because it isn't true. I'm going to love you forever because you are my first love. No one else can ever be my first and that’s saying something. I'm waiting to get back to you, Billie. That’s all I’m doing."

"It's up to you. I'll make no promise. You’re leaving me and I’m going to find a place where I belong. I’ll know more about myself when you come back. I won't promise to be true blue to you, because I don't know what’s out there. I'll promise to be waiting for you when you come off the plane. I promise I’ll be unhurt, undead, and very much wanting to be your second love."

"Go back to the room," he ordered.

"What?"

"I said go back to the room. There's something I've got to do."

"Find a woman to stick it in?” I blurted unreasonably.

"If that's what you think, sure. Find some woman to stick it in. Asshole."

"I don't care. Go ahead. Maybe that's what you need."

"I know what I need. I got what I need. I need to walk and think. Alone. You give me a lot to think over, and I plan to think without you around on account of I can't think with you around. I can only think of one thing with you around.”

"Okay. Give me the key so I can get in."

"You aren't going out?"

"Only if you tell me where you're going, and then I'll go out to you."

"Go to the room."

"Yes, sir. I'm going, sir. You have fun," I said obnoxiously child-like.

"Fuck you," he snapped back at me.

"Now you're talking. Come on back to the room and you can do just that."

"You are nuts."

"Never said I wasn't nuts, Ponyboy. Nuts over you I am."

Carl laughed, turning away and going down hill, back towards the seedy blocks we just passed. I pushed it out of my mind and walked up the hill with one foot in the gutter and one on the curb as cars and buses splashed water all over me. I didn't care. I was mad and didn’t know why.

It took me an hour to walk the few blocks to the hotel. The manager looked at me funny. I must have been a sight splattered in mud and soaked as I slipped through the entrance way and ran up the stairs. I sat in the dark a long time and cried. I knew Carl was leaving me. I would have said anything to get him to stay. If he did stay, we'd live together, and I'd work to support him, but I knew he wasn't staying with me. I cried harder and took off all my clothes and went and sat in the tub with the water pouring on me from the showerhead and steam rising up into the stale air of the bathroom.

It was hours before I heard the door shut real soft, but the latch made a distinctive click I could hear even in the bathtub. I closed my eyes and leaned back pretending he wasn't there. I was mad at him for leaving me for the first time when we could have been together. I heard the door pushed open and I could see his shadow through my lids filling the doorway.

"You want to come out here a minute?"

"You want me to meet your bimbo or something."

"Fuck you."

"Get undressed. We can do that in here."

"Fuck you."

"Get undressed."

"Get your fucking ass out of the tub. I ain't playing here."

As I stood up a shiver ran through me. I opened the curtain and felt naked as he looked at me. He looked from my feet to my face and smiled at what he saw. He had one hand behind his back. He stretched it out and in it was a royal blue jewelry box. I looked at him and started crying.

"Open it. Why are you crying?"

"Because I treat you so mean and you're so fucking nice all the time. That's why."

"Open it. I guess you can tell it isn’t a ring, but you don’t get a ring until I come back."

I wiped my eyes and opened the top. Inside was a gold bracelet with huge links. It was engraved Billie in the upper left hand corner and Joe in the bottom right hand corner.

"It's not right. I want your name on it, not mine."

"Turn it over, asshole."

On the bottom was engraved the word ‘loves’ in the upper left hand corner and on the bottom was Carl. He took the box from me and put it on the back of the toilet and hugged me as the water ran over him and me, as well as the sink, toilet, and the floor.

"It’s to make sure you don’t forget. I paid the jeweler fifty bucks to come back to work to engrave it. That's what took me so long. He only engraves during the day, and I wanted it tonight."

"You're crazy. You couldn't have waited until tomorrow?"

"I'm crazy about you, and I wanted you to have it tonight. I want you to know how I feel."

"Why Billie Joe Loves Carl? Why not Carl Loves Billie Joe?" I asked, wiping my eyes free of tears.

"Because I know I love you. I want you to remember you love me while you’re on the road. I want you to look under it where it touches your skin and be reminded you love me, kid. I don't want you forgetting that. It might not keep you from doing whatever you’re doing to do but it will remind you who loves you."

"How could I forget, Ponyboy?"

"Want to prove it?"

"How?" I asked, admiring what he’d gotten me and beaming because of what he told me about it.

"You know how. I've been dying all the way back thinking about you doing that to me. I almost stopped to yank it, but that meant I'd be away from you that much longer. I need you to do that tonight. All-night tonight. You and me, kid."

"With your clothes on? Get real, Ponyboy."

We kissed there for a long time with water running everywhere. It would have been easy to turn it off but my mind wasn’t on water and time stood still as we became lost in one another.

Finally we dried off and left our clothes and the towels to soak up the water. He carried me into the bedroom, lying me flat on the bed, he straddled me, easing himself down on my thing as I watched, amazed. He seemed intent on this in particular, and once he’d gotten comfortable, he rode me for what seemed like hours. We kissed and rolled, always ending up with him back on top with my back flat on the bed.

It was the first time we stuck with it until the deed was done for both of us. We kissed and touched until we were at it again. He became lost with me inside him and at times he leaned back on his hands and eased himself up and down on my inflamed erection. His own hardon stuck out as his nuts swung back and forth with his gyration. He seemed lost in a world we were both solidly connected together.

My hips were a perpetual motion machine I couldn't stop. The longer we went the longer I could go. As good as everything was before, this was the best of all because it lasted for hours. Each time either of us started to lose control, we stopped and kissed and he leaned forward to hold me against his chest.

Rubbing my hands up and down his thighs electrified me. With his legs bent back under him the muscles stood out even more. His chest stretched and the muscles shifted, but there was no jiggle or movement that wasn't a tightly controlled action by his body. It took me a long time to start on the nipples, and the first time wasn't a fluke because of him going for three long months without sex. When I started twisting them, they stood out, hardening under my fingers. His body was like a live wire under my touch.

I remembered how much he liked me to pinch hard, and I did, being careful not to overdo a good thing. The more he moaned and reacted the more I reacted and moaned. Even though we’d both just completed a round of wonderful love making, we became lost in another magnificent mutual motion that had me floating on air and lost in the clouds of love making. As long as I was lost with Carl, it didn’t matter where my mind took me. The feel of him in my hands kept me occupied as I filled and refilled him with an arousal I’d never before known. The harder I thrust against his tight butt the hotter I got and after what must have been a long time but seemed but a few seconds and no more than a minute, I lost control once more humping his ass and filling him with my happy love. As I yanked him unmercifully he moved up and down on me and as I came he came with me as a long solid jet of juice hit me in the face. At first shocked I s tarted laughing and he laughed and we came and laughed as I felt myself return to the Seattle bed and we lie together in perfect bliss.

I dozed and woke up with him in my arms. It was cool. He was warm. The feel of his body was incredible. I wasn’t sure how long I slept but I was wide awake. I felt his ever-hard dick and got the idea I should use one hand to pump him up completely and at the same time twist the easiest nipple to reach. I added my hot dick to the action, moving it across the ridges of his butt hole, which made me gasp each time I crossed the target.

Rousing him was easy with so much of his body in my hands. First his dick got as hard as it could get. His push back against me was a sure sign we were linked together. I positioned my hot head on his hot hole, which opened magically as he moved back on me. My head found entry easy compared with previous tries. His hole eased up my shaft until he had me fully within his grasp.

I had to stoop to avoid the unthinkable early end to this next act in our love play. I squeezed his dick hard and juices joined my fingers on his oversized dickhead. I squeezed again and let my fingers catch the escaping liquid. He moaned, pushing back hard.

“Not yet” he whispered back over his shoulder. “Let me feel you inside me for awhile.”

It was a plea I almost couldn’t honor. I wanted to squeeze and twist his cockhead and demand it give me all there was it had to give, but I fought my desire, feeling his hole twitching lightly on my dick as he fought off a too early end to the renewal we were both seeking.

Being too hot to start makes it difficult to gage what is starting and in what direction you are going. Before long, still hanging onto his muscle of love, but not tormenting it, I took over for Carl. At first he moved back and forth in a non-descript motion that kept me engaged but kept him from finishing without me.

There’s no way to know when his motion lost out to my motion, but I had a grip on him and his hole like never before. I could go as slow or as quick as I liked, and nothing interrupted my chosen speed. I held him and gave him all there was of me to give without complaint. It took me some time to find my way through the fog of love and back to that swollen organ that waited to be rediscovery. Then, I could twist, pull, yank, and torment it for all I was worth. Carl had become so intent on my rear end activity that his super sensitive dick had cooled enough for me to tempt it back into action.

Reaching around him with his knees bent and my dick filling his butt caused his dick to swell thicker and even harder than previous assaults on it. This was a good position for me, allowing me to be fully engaged with his body. His was a less active role, except for his butt meeting me half way and his dick twitching with delight as I worked it over. There was nothing else but Carl and me, together, floating, rocking, merging in glorious harmony, unaware there was anything else.

I knew when he was starting to finish because of his hole biting into my dick. It was the same twitching before, when he came to the end of the road for this session of love.

The same twitching on my dick that announced where Carl was, told me I was but a few thrusts from joining him if I gave up my slow and easy grind for a more desperate motion that, along with the twitching of his hole, would have me shooting my load as quick as I gave up my control.

Leaning back against me, I wrapped my arms around him and felt and his stomach and chest were set in an impressive mold of Army hardened muscle as he heaved in powerful gulps of fresh air, trying to calm down and I clung to him. Using my final ounce of energy, I thrust forward. He moaned. I smiled, wondering if it was all a dream.

I drifted off and woke up with Carl sitting on the side of the bed.

“No,” I said.

He stood and walked into the bathroom.

Traffic passed under our window. It had rained again. There was that sound tires make after a rain. Artificial light shinned tiny bands of light through the closed slats. Otherwise the room was dark and I heard Carl turn off the light and he came back to the bed. I rolled over and put my arms around me. He fastened my bracelet to my wrist and it slid half way up my arm. I unfastened it and refastened it near my elbow, feeling the engraving, which warmed me all over.

“We’ll get a link or two taken out,” he said.

“No, I’ll grow into it,” I assured him, holding my hand protectively on the jewelry.

Leaning forward, he hesitated as his lips moved toward mine. It was like that first kiss. He only let them barely touch my lips. His lips were like a wispy bit of wind traveling past. Gone was the hungry need to taste my kisses and we were able to enjoy the companionship that meant so much to both of us. It was a hard and sometimes brutal world, but being together, having one another, made all the difference. I sampled the sweetness of his lips and tongue.

I was perfectly content with this new calmer side of our relationship, having about worn myself out, but not quite I guess. Before long we rocked and rolled and the bed squeaked and squawked, but we showed it no mercy as we rode off to destinations unknown. We traveled as one and rode off into the light and flew around the ceiling and up through the slats of our blinds and out into the cool Seattle night. Our bodies left us and explored the universe floating up through the stars and constellations. Just dust mingling together and sharing one universal existence. We rode and moved through the night and only when first light shone in through the window did we know we were exhausted back in our bed.

Only then did we separate and Carl lay beside me with his lips barely touching mine. My eyes studied his gorgeous face and his freckles and eyelids as they danced and drooped for me as I noticed lines of fatigue etched into his face. Our arms and legs were tangled together as the final bit of energy ran out of me.

Chapter 6

Will I See You Again?

When you first come out of deep sleep, you hang suspended between the depths of darkness and the harsh realities of waking and light. That wasn't the case for me the second morning I woke up in the hotel room with Carl. The first thing I could notice or feel was the warmth. The warmth concentrated itself where I prodded Carl as we curled together in the position we always found during sleep. This time my hips didn't thrust forward because it wasn't necessary. I could feel the warmth into the depth of him. The most marvelous delicious exciting warmth I could have imagined. I'd never before awakened as part of someone else, but this morning Carl and I were united.

My hand held him, as it always seemed to be doing, but this, too, was different as he was at rest. There were no raging needs or endless desires that usually accompanied my contact with him there. He was completely and totally relaxed. I could feel his back next to my chest, and my arm under and around him to hold his chest. The feel of his skin can't be described. My face snuggled between his shoulders. It was a lot like what I imagine the sensation would be to be drifting on an oversize, billowy cloud. My body was not held by gravity, physics or any earthly thing. It floated free, and yet I existed as part of the person I was connected to. Feeling his heart beating at the point of our connection thrilled me.

It's funny what you can feel and hear when you are first returning from sleep. It wasn't the street noises or the buses that passed close by. It wasn't the horns or the elevator or the oppressions of life. It was Carl's body's life signs that I melded into in total harmony. Matching his heart beat with my own by thinking it, timing my breath with his breath, and matching my body's temperature to his through the expanses of skin we shared. In perfect harmony I held him, felt him, studied him, loved him.

Oh, god, how I loved him!

It wasn't my intention to disturb him, but as usual I was the one demanding relief. Was this my immaturity showing through? Carl seemed able to let it pass, and perhaps I'd learn to have his self control. For me, every time was a desperate need to remember he was my love. When you are devoid of that element for the whole of your life, there is something especially needy about your passion and desire. Once you rise to the occasion, it is hard to go away with out completing the thought and satisfying the need, and so that afternoon in Seattle I drove myself back into the clouds on Carl's back. Never knowing if I had awakened him or not, and not being capable of thinking about it past the instant it took to cross my mind.

Once you are on your way back to the skies, you fail to consider the sweat, the urgency, the need and the dependency of what you do. You just soar and do, and I did. And this time it didn't take hours, perhaps only seconds. Time stands still when you truly love, and that's how I knew I truly loved Carl. There was always a timelessness about my time with him. The troubles and pain and viciousness of the world never entered or interfered with mine when I rode Carl amongst the clouds and between the stars. The heavens opened and allowed an escape from the things that seem uncontrollable and harsh. Then there was the falling, the dizziness, the struggle to keep myself alive as every part of me prepared to explode, and then the drifting, drifting back to earth.

Now my sweat ran on his back, joining us in yet another way. My face felt ten degrees hotter than the coolness of his skin. Carl. Unmoved, still there in my arms with that soft skin stretched across the hard sinew that was his body. He seemed to sleep on until he too joined me back in a bed in downtown Seattle.

"You ever stop?"

"You got me started."

"I was sleeping nice and peaceful like, and then you are at it again. I didn't start it."

"Sorry! As long as you are here it's going to be like this I guess."

"Sorry? Sorry? Can you imagine what it's like waking up being loved by you? I thought I was dreaming until I felt you in there. Then I knew where I was and felt you holding me in your arms."

"Can't help myself."

"Don't. I'm yours."

"Should we go eat?"

"I don't even know what time it is. We were still at it when it was getting daylight. That's when we laid ourselves down to sleep."

"You need anything? Are you all right?"

"I'm still drained. I don't know if I'll ever get it back up again. It died after that last one this morning. Never even bent until then."

"You're telling me! We're going to have to wash that wall. You've got that shot down pretty good."

"Not my fault. You're the one forces it out of me. I ain't never done nothing like that before."

"Right! You are sooo innocent."

"I am sooo happy."

"Me too. Should we go back to sleep?"

"Not much time left."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Time's going to pass whether we talk about it or not."

"I know.”

I drew my head back and stretched my body taught against his.

"Don't go."

"We've been through this."

"I know. I can always hope."

We lay there in silence for a few minutes. It became piercingly necessary for me to hold him tighter to make sure he was really there and it wasn't all a dream. My insecurity was something I couldn't control. Like my lust, it had a life of its own. I merely observed it in action.

"We're going to have to break this up, Billie."

"What's wrong?"

"I've got to go."

"Where are you going?"

"The toilet, shithead. I've had to go since last night, but I couldn't bear the thought of separating from you. I've managed to hold on, but in a few minutes you're going to be real sorry if I don't take care of it this time."

It took awhile to give him up. Becoming my own person again had a certain cooling effect. He had finally found something he had to do alone. I dressed while he took care of business. He came out and stood with his hands on his hips staring at me.

"You don't want to...."

"No. Let's go out and get some air. I am hungry. The room's closing in on me."

"Thank god! I'm drained. I thought you might want to stay in bed."

"The thought crossed my mind. That's why I got up. I don't want the last couple of days to be just a memory of bedtime. I want to do something we can have fun with. Enjoy ourselves."

"You seem to enjoy yourself pretty good in bed."

"It's new to me. I can't get enough of you, but I know I'm going to have to get used to not having you with me."

"Only for awhile."

"A year is a long, long, long, long, long time to me," I said, not knowing what it was going to be like going back to being alone.

"Me too."

He walked across the room and leaned down until his face was close to mine. I finally looked up at him and he pressed his lips on my lips, and gave me one of those gentle kisses I loved so much to get.

It was bright when we went out. We reversed the natural order of things. We roamed long into the night. Carl took his green suit to the cleaners to be picked up for his travels. We had gotten it pretty wrinkled up on the bus, half a lifetime ago. He wanted to look "sharp," and I couldn't imagine there being a sharper soldier than my soldier boy.

We went to the arcade, bowled, ran up and down 1st Street. Rode the ferry out into Puget Sound, and back, of course. We kissed out at the very tip of the ferry. There weren't many people around, but I don't think we cared much. Loving was too good to hide. I'd hidden too long already. We held hands and walked and talked long after midnight. It rained. We walked. A car passed and some guys yelled out of it, "Faggots." Carl's hand shot up in the air with a salute he thought they should have. He turned and kissed me before they were out of sight. Even in his civvies he was impressive. Noises were all anyone was going to make around Carl. I sensed he was fearless.

It made me wonder. He was such a man's man. How could he feel like I felt? How could he choose to be like me? It made no sense. No one liked being yelled at or insulted. Why would someone like Carl be gay? That confused me the more I thought about it, and I didn't like being confused.

My brother took us to the airport, and Carl stood so proud and tall in that green suit. He was sharp. We didn't say anything. I held his hand on the way down Route 5. My brother saw it. Carl saw him see it. He looked at me like he didn't know why I was doing that there. I wasn't hiding any longer. I was me and if someone didn't like me, that was their problem. I was "out" and I wasn't ever going back in. John dropped us at the entrance so Carl didn't have to carry his big green bag too far. He parked and said he'd come to the gate.

My stomach was empty, and my heart was breaking. Carl's large hand stayed planted in the middle of my back all the way through the airport until we stood beside the gate where his plane would depart. He cried first. I didn't start it. We still didn't talk. We just looked at each other.

"You're going to be here when I come back?" he said, wiping his wet eyes.

"Right on this spot," I said. "I'll be standing right here when you come back to me."

"I love you," he said, and hugged me to his chest and he sobbed "I don't want to leave you." "Don't."

"You aren't going to make this easy!"

Tears ran down his cheeks.

"No."

He hugged me again and a middle-aged man who was walking by paused and said, "Disgrace to the uniform! You should be shot!"

Carl broke away from me and his face turned crimson with rage. I felt the muscles in his arms tense like a cobra readying for a strike.

"Carl," I shouted, "don't."

"Why don't you fuck off, asshole." I heard my brother John's voice. "This kid'll break you in half you don't get out of his face."

The man faded into the rush of people coming and going.

Carl held me again and didn't sob any longer, but tears continued to run down his red face. I hugged his waist and kept my face in his chest as I shook and soaked his tie and shirt.

"I love you," I said, looking up at his face.

"I love you."

I stood at the window watching the plane move back away from the terminal. The tears ran, but it wasn't like I was crying. They just did it on their own. I felt my brother's arm around my shoulder when I stopped spacing out on the plane that was stealing my love away.

John and I walked in silence to the car. I reached into the back seat and pulled out my gym bag that contained my clothes. I set it in the middle of my lap as brother John drove away from the terminal.

"You've got it bad, kiddo."

"Good," I clarified. "I've got it good, John."

"You're buying into a lot of trouble at a pretty young age you know."

"Old enough."

"I didn't say you weren't old enough. That's not what I said. It's just that you're going up a rough road. You've got some growing to do before you can handle it, kiddo. That's what I'm saying."

"Drop me on Route 5."

"What?" he shouted, slamming on the brakes and sliding the car to the shoulder.

"I'm going to California. Drop me off at Route 5. That's what I said."

"Not going to happen, kiddo! Even if you were older, the old man would skin me."

"You and the old man don't have any thing to do with it, John. I'm going to California. You can drop me off on Route 5, or you can take me back with you, and the first time you turn your back I'll be out on Route 5 in the middle of downtown and probably get my ass run down. I don't care what you do. I'm going to California."

"Even if I let you, mom and dad'll shit themselves."

"I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry about being a fag, but that's what I am, John, and I ain't going back to stupid Minnesota to get my brains bashed in by some ignorant redneck. I'm going to where people will let me find out who I am."

“Does Carl know you're doing this?"

"Yes, he had the same reaction you did. Said exactly the same thing. Carl's gone."

"If you loved him, really I mean, you'd wait for him."

"You see, that's it right there. That's why I'm going. I do love Carl. You want to watch my lips. We've been holed up in a motel room since we left your place. We found each other and we somehow fell in love. I can't go back to Minnesota. I can't go back to being mom and pop's little boy. I'm not a little boy, John. I know what I am, and I know what I want, and I know I can neither be what I am, nor get what I want at home in Minnesota. Not going to happen. Now I'm taking this summer for myself. I'm going to try to screw my head on tight, and then I'll go home to Minnesota and wait for Carl. That's the only deal there is. There is nothing you, mom, pop, or any one else can do about it."

"What happened to my little brother, kiddo? You were always so damn smart. This is dumb."

"You don't know what it's like feeling what I feel, John. Ralphie killed himself because he was gay. I can’t go back there knowing that.”

“Mom said it upset you quite a bit. Were you and Ralphie…?”

“No, I didn’t know he was gay. I never told him I was. I don’t want that happening to me. I’ve got to find people like myself. Don't tell me I'm stupid for deciding to fight. I watch people all around me every day that feel nothing. I felt nothing all my life. I've finally found a way to feel something. I don't like it, but that's the way it is. Now I've got to live with it. I'd die in Minnesota. Faggot's don't flourish and grow in Minnesota, John. They sometimes don't survive," I said, remembering my brother broke away from home when he was only a year older than me.

The car screeched off the shoulder and another car slammed on the brakes and swerved around us giving us a one finger salute. My brother's face turned as red as Carl's had been. We passed the car that passed us just as he was trying to move in front of us. John leaned on the horn and saluted back and we were doing eighty miles an hour on that access road. John screeched the car to a halt at the Route 5 overpass. One ramp went north and back to Seattle and his apartment, and one ramp went south into the unknown.

"Get the fuck out of my car," John growled, not looking at me.

"I'm sorry, John. I've got to go. I can't stay. I've got to find out who I am."

"You better call me every night. Collect. Just call and I might accept the call and I might not. Depends on whether or not I'm pissed at you at the time. At least I'll know you are alive. What do I tell mom and dad, Billie Joe? What do I tell your parents? You're putting me against the wall here."

"I'm sorry, John. You think of something. You do what you have to do. I'll call. I’ll be all right."

Before I slid out, John pressed a twenty-dollar bill into my hand.

"It's all I got, kiddo. Don't buy soft drinks or junk. Get the jumbo burgers. No fries. You might survive a few days on that."

"Thanks, John. I'll be back before school starts. Tell them that. Whatever you want. I can't go home. Tell them. Thanks."

John stayed there on the edge of the road as I walked down through the dirt and grit on the ramp. I put his twenty in my jacket pocket and found an envelope with a note from my lover.

I stood at the bottom of the ramp and stuffed the twenty in my pocket and found a crisp new hundred-dollar bill folded in the note.

"I'll worry about you, Billie Joe," the note said. "I wish you luck. Don't worry about me. Do what you got to do. Carl. P.S. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm crazy about you. I knew you wouldn't take the money, but I've got to know you are eating okay."

I wiped the tears from my eyes and swallowed some bad air. I heard the air brakes from a truck swish and puff as the longest truck I'd ever seen up close slid off onto the shoulder and a horn tooted two short bursts. As I climbed up into the cab I saw John's car slowly moving across the bridge. I stuck my hand up and waved.

I slid in beside a red-haired boy who seemed a little older than me. The driver smiled and the truck was immediately moving forward and sliding right back out on the merge lane as he shifted more gears than I knew existed in one vehicle.

"Where you headed, son?"

"California," I said.

"Me too," the red headed kid smiled and reached for my hand.

"I'm Raymond."

The truck cut through the cloudy cool day. I was on my way… somewhere.

Chapter 7

Raymond & The Trucker

The seat bounced up and down as the truck bounced, and Raymond and I bounced together with it. Neither of us was all that big, but we filled the passenger area of the seat beside the "doghouse," a black box-like affair where compartments held a variety of tools, maps and assorted junk.

Hank, the truck driver, was going to Salt Lake City after making a stop to pick up furniture in Lake Oswago just south of Portland. He'd picked Raymond up at a truck stop near Spokane the day before.

They talked like they had known each other for years, but Raymond was one of those cocky, loud mouth guys you loved to hate. I must admit after he put his arm over the back of the seat and his hand kept bouncing against the back of my arm, I was getting flustered. He chattered and leaned on the dog house talking to the driver, but the two of us didn't have much to say to one another.

"Ray boy, why don't you sit on the doghouse a while. Give Billie Joe some sittin' room."

"He's all right, Hank," he said, looking over his back at me. "Besides you promised we could stop so I could make some more money."

"Ray boy, we don't talk business in front of strangers."

Raymond looked over his shoulder at me again.

"He can get out if he's bashful. Maybe he wants to make some money too."

I waited for Hank to object or say something to Raymond. He didn't.

"We going to stop or what?"

"You ask Billie Joe if he minds we take a break. I'm all for it. Need to relax for a few."

"Good. It's settled. Hit the next rest area."

"Ray boy, you are a man after my own heart."

Hank spoke over Raymond's head to me. "Billie Joe. you don't mind I take a break?"

"No, sir. You're doing the driving. I'm just glad to have the ride."

"Well good then. Ray boy here wants to conduct business when we stop. You can go stretch your legs or sit there. We'll do it back in the bunk."

"What?" I said, unable to hide my surprise.

"You a redneck there, Billie Joe," Raymond asked back at me.

"I can't see my neck. Can you look and give me a reading."

"Got you, Ray boy. He's a quick one. Got you all right." Hank laughed happily.

Raymond turned around facing me and pulled my jacket away from my neck. He put his hand down the back of my shirt.

"No. It's not red. Nice skin though, Billie Joe. You use bubble bath or something?"

"Fuck you, Raymond. Get your hands off me." I swatted Raymond's hands away and he could see he wasn't endearing himself to me. I took to watching the road, not too sure now about this ride.

The next rest area was only half an hour down the road, and we pulled into one of the long truck spaces. It was late afternoon. There were only two trucks back in the entire lot. Raymond sat his butt back on the dog house and started to slide into the bunk.

Hank yelled, "Ray boy, you know you don't go on my sheets in street clothes. I've told you that."

"Yeah, Hank. You told me. I forgot."

Raymond pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his pants and pulled them off along with his socks, tossing them all in the floor at my feet. He had white boxers on and the front was poked out in a way that I recognized. He slid up and back, scooting his butt into the bunk. I could see his white balls up one of the legs of his shorts, and some really red hair on the side of them. He looked at me after leaning on the back of the bunk with his legs sticking out, and made some stupid face before pulling it out of the front of his boxers. It was maybe a little bigger than mine, but it didn't have a head at all. Skin covered it all up. It was pure white, and I could see red hair all around the hole in his boxers.

Hank undid his pants and took off his shirt. He slid out of his pants and boots at the same time while moving his own butt into the bunk.

"Ray boy, you've got it all wrong. It's your turn remember. I did yours last."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," Ray said. "Hey, Billie Joe, you do mine while I do Hank. I'll give you half the money."

"Thanks! I'm fine," I said.

Hank closed the curtain as he leaned back with his head on the driver's pillows. The truck was eight feet wide, so there was plenty enough room for them to stretch out, but the bunk looked to be about half as wide as a single bed. I heard sounds I knew. They sounded crude compared to the slight, gentle sounds Carl and I made, but then I wasn't listening from the outside when we made love. I could feel the truck starting to rock, and then the curtain moved open two inches and Raymond's hand ran down my arm. I moved, and as I did I could see Raymond going down on Hank.

Hank was maybe thirty. He was older than my brother by a bit, and younger than my father by some. That's why I say thirty. He looked maybe a little larger than me, but he was getting attention on it, so I figured he was no bigger than me. Raymond's idea of size obviously didn't include anyone like Carl. I laughed to myself and felt a twitch in my stomach because I kept thinking about him. I knew I would meet people and have opportunities, but it was too soon to even think of doing anything. I knew I would, though, if the time was right. I wasn't going to go without for a year! I needed to do more than sit and wait now that I was learning just what it was I liked.

"Feel all right, Hank."

"You are a pro, Ray boy. You know what to do all right."

"Want to do the other thing for another ten."

"Ray boy, I'm giving you all the extra money I got. There isn't any more for frills. I'm a trucker not a banker. I don't usually pay anyone. There's guys in every truck stop just dying to climb up on a truckers bones. If you weren't so damn talented, I wouldn't pay you a dime. Hell, I've done yours twice, and I don't do that shit with guys. Not since I was fourteen back in Greenville."

"Yeah, you treated me good. Buying me food and all. I'll give you the other on the house. I know you're partial to that. It's my 'thank you'."

My eyes became glued to the open curtain as I watched Raymond move around. He pulled off his boxers and he was poking out really far. The bright red hair around it was neat. He leaned over Hank and his hole was right at the curtain. It was absolutely pink. I swear. Not a hair around it, and his skin was whiter than snow. I swear it was.

I watched Raymond take a rubber from Hank and open it and roll it down in place. He then ran his hand up and down to smooth it out.

"Lubricated. All right! I'll make short work of you, Hank."

Raymond almost leaped up on it, and it immediately started to disappear. I couldn't see Hank's face, but I could hear the moan. Raymond's hand once more came out through the curtain as he bounced like he was on a trampoline. He grabbed my shoulder and held it almost like he was using me for balance. I didn't remove his hand, but I suppose I should have. I didn't want him rolling out of the bunk into the front seat like that. It was a good excuse to let someone touch me. He had red hairs on the lower part of his leg, and his feet were almost red. I could see the top of him, and it was red as well, and the skin was almost off the head, but still covered the ridge so tight you could see the pores in it through the skin.

"How's it going, Hank? We getting there?"

"Yeah. You want me to go ahead? We could do this awhile."

"You enjoy yourself. I'll give you a few more minutes."

I could hear Hank was a lot closer than he admitted. His breathing got to be louder than Raymond's mouth. I Watched Raymond lean way back across Hank's legs and grab below his knees with both hands as Hank got finished. I could see Hank's legs getting all jumpy. Then all the motion stopped and Raymond just stayed leaning back over his legs and his stood straight out. His was longer than mine but thinner. There were no marks on it. Not a vein or blemish. The bright red hair was something I had only seen once in junior high in the showers.

It made my mouth dry looking at it and listening to them doing it. It also had me dying trying to keep from being turned on to their activity. Thinking about Carl made matters worse. I felt my bracelet and tried to keep my mind under control.

Raymond leaned out of the bunk putting his arm around my shoulder as Hank slid out over the back of his seat. He held up his pants, sliding down into them and his boots in a single slow motion. Raymond stayed naked and his body was still leaning against mine. Leaning out of the bunk, his hand dangled down on my chest as he looked out of the huge windshield.

"You're probably too small, but you want a go. I'm still hard. I'll give you a freebie so you'll know if we should do anything after we hit the highway."

"I don't need no freebie."

"You a virgin boy, Billie Joe? You get a special if you are a virgin boy. 'B.J.' You got the name for showing a fella a good time. You won't be a virgin boy long. Raymond will turn your ass every way but loose. Ask Hank. I'm the best there is."

"None of your business what I am. And I don't need you to show me nothing."

"You are a virgin boy, B.J."

Raymond leaned forward and stuck his whole tongue in my ear slurping and slopping spit on the side of my face. I smacked him in the head, which knocked him back in the bunk. He stuck his feet in the air. His pink hole obvious as he spread his legs for me.

"Hey! Hey, you two! Cut it!"

Hank sort of yelled as he pulled onto as we eased back onto the Interstate heading south.

"Raymond, leave this boy alone. He's a nice kid. You don't be doing that shit to no clean-cut kid. Redneck or not, he'll bust your ass. He’s tougher than you Ray boy. Take my word for it."

"You better listen to the man, Ray boy," I said with a surly edge on my words.

"For the right price he can bust all he wants," Raymond said in a nasty voice right back and his hand shot out of the bunk at my face while I was staring between his legs. At the proper instant I brought my hand down on top of his, slapping his arm down against the top of the seat. He let out a loud yelp.

As Hank shifted up through the gears, he watched the exchange out of the corner of his eye.

"Told you not to fuck with him. Knew right off he was a damn sight tougher than you, Ray boy. Leave well enough alone.”

"He broke my elbow. He broke my elbow!" Ray held his bent arm like it was seriously hurt. "I'm going to sue your ass."

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," I said. “I didn’t hurt you but the next time I’ll break it off.”

"Thank you, Billie Joe. I was about to make the same suggestion. Your approach will probably prove more effective than mine. I'm sometimes too tolerant for my own good."

Hank smiled and guided the monster truck with his powerful looking hands.

"Little creep knows Jujitsu or something," Raymond complained, rubbing his arm and scowling at me out of the bunk.

He still didn't close his legs or cover himself, and he was still standing up like he was ready to do more business. I got an eye full and turned around to watch our progress as we cut through the late afternoon.

"Karate. Four years. Don't fuck with me. The next time I will break it."

My comments were enough to keep Raymond’s arms and hands inside the confines of the bunk.

"I was only joking around, Billy boy. As you can plainly see I'm a lover not a fighter."

He grabbed himself as he spoke and yanked up and down, thrusting it out toward my face before having second thoughts and retreating.

"Billie Joe. My name is Billie Joe. I ain't your boy. I ain't B.J. Ass hole."

"Jesus. Sorry for living. I'll keep my mouth shut," he settled back down in the bunk as he spoke.

"That's the best idea you've had," I said.

The truck grew silent except for the sounds

of the road, the hum the engine made at speed, and an occasional hissing of air as the air brakes adjusted to the buildup of air pressure. Raymond stayed in the bunk with his legs sticking out across the doghouse. I used the corner of my eye to see him, and he was pulling on it at a pretty good clip.

He kept looking up to see if I was watching him, but I pretended I wasn't. He let one of his thighs lean against my arm for a hundred miles or so before sliding naked onto the doghouse, where it drooped down between his legs, leaning on his pink balls. Some loose skin rubbed the surface below him. I could see where the fat head was hidden by the delicate looking skin. I tried to keep my mind on the road, but couldn't.

"I need to get my drawers on. Make some room will you?"

I slid against the door as his smooth leg slid down my bare arm. I lifted my hand out of the way but his entire crotch slid across it with it half standing up as quick as it touched my skin. The hanging skin tightened up onto the head, showing about a quarter of an inch of it through the opening at the top of the skin. He pressed his arm inside my arm so mine was trapped under his and against his skin. I slowly slid my hand across his thigh, feeling the soft skin while wondering how he got so bold. He looked at me and smiled like he knew I liked touching him.

He put on his socks and then his shirt sitting there for another ten minutes before he pulled his pants up. His boxers remained back in the bunk. He was once more standing straight out of the open zipper. He looked at my face and then looked at it, and took his hand and skinned the foreskin all the way off the head. It was darker red or nearly purple in color. He turned it toward me and squeezed so the head got thicker. He looked to see if I was looking at it. My eyes were glued to it. I was fascinated by the red hair, the many colors his dick head turned, as well as the skin. Finally tucking himself away, he sat quietly beside me.

As we went bouncing up the road rubbing against each other, I got in the same condition as him. I realized his hand was on my thigh, and slowly moving each time we hit a big bump. I decided to stop fighting with him, and let him go. He stopped with his hand on the inside of my leg just below my nuts. I don't know if he was afraid I'd belt him or if he had just lost interest. He couldn’t miss the bulge in my jeans, but we both stared out the windshield as the day started to darken. His hand rested right against my nuts and moved up and down with the truck.

Hank stayed focused on the road ahead as we closed in on the Oregon Stateline. It was almost dark when we crossed the Columbia River. Portland looked a little dirty from the Interstate, but quickly gave way to green hill and tall forests as we continued south. Hank pointed out the snowcapped Mt. Hood as the final hint of daylight lighted it for us. I'd only seen pictures, but I knew it right away. Of course it's the only peak there, so I didn't have to be exactly a geography whiz. Like Mount Rainier, you can't get confused by other nearby mountains.

My eyes were drooping. I'd needed extra sleep ever since meeting Carl. We expended so much energy when we were awake that it required a lot more sleep just to keep up. Now, bouncing around in the truck, I was exhausted. I could hardly hold my eyes open. I had to stay awake to enjoy Raymond's fingers now brushing against my still stiff pecker. We drove for a half an hour once we passed Portland. There was a truck stop to the left of the highway Hank seemed to be waiting for.

There were a million trucks already parked out in back. The lot covered one acre after another full of trucks and it was almost full, but we finally found a space about a mile from the entrance, where there were two restaurants, a motel, and a garage.

We ate, and I only got a burger with everything on it. Hank tried to pay, but I decided I didn't want to be obligated. He went to make some calls and came back to the table after fifteen or twenty minutes.

"I can't load until noon tomorrow. I'm getting a room for the night so I can get cleaned up. You boys come in and shower, and then you get to sleep in the truck. I need to pack in some hours. I've got to go to Salt Lake and then Dallas in the next three days. I need a good night's sleep. Can you two manage in the truck with out beating each other to a pulp?"

"Might be beating it off, but never beat each other to a pulp, Hank. I'm a lover, remember?"

"I remember, Ray boy. I also remember Billie Joe almost had to kick your ass to keep you in line. I don't want no shit. You'll both hit the road tonight instead of after a good night's sleep and hot breakfast."

"It's cool," I said. “He won’t be any trouble.”

"No clothes in the bunk," Hank stressed.

"I know, Hank. I'll remember this time. You just told me this afternoon and I'll keep the kid straight."

"Don't call me kid, asshole."

"It would be the first person you kept straight." Hank laughing before he headed toward the motel to check-in.

We all showered, and of course Raymond walked around naked for an hour and watched television until Hank told us to go to the truck so he could sleep. I was already falling asleep in the chair. I followed Raymond out so I'd know which truck it was. They all looked alike to me.

"You hit the bunk. I'll start out up here. It gets cold, and I'll climb back there, so don't be punching me out if I come to bed. Take off your clothes. He don't like no street clothes on his sheets."

"Don't blame him. That would ruin a good sleep. Clean sheets sound good."

I slipped my money into my socks as I undressed. I pushed the gold bracelet up almost to my elbow so it would stay put instead of hanging down in the palm of my hand. Raymond grabbed a pillow and was scooting around the front seat when I turned out the overhead. I was sleeping before I got lying down completely. All the life just went out of me as soon as I got prone.

I don't know when Raymond came to bed, but I immediately recognized the position I found myself in. I had my hand on him, and his naked ass was pressed against me, and I was hanging out of my shorts and pressed right into that pink hole of his. My head seemed to be right in the opening like I was preparing to dive in to him. I felt the smooth skin on his. It felt really different, and hard as a spike. It didn't take all my effort to try to hold him, and I moved my hand up to see where that skin was on the top. He moaned when my fingers touched him there, and some drops made my fingers sticky. I jerked my hand away and he pressed back just a little and my head slipped right inside of him. He made a sound like "ouch," only it wasn't that. I yanked it out as quick as I felt the hole shut around me.

"Shit," I said.

"Fuck," he said. "You might have the fucking AIDS," I yelled.

"I don't have AIDS, and if you'll look, you got a condom on. Jesus you're a pussy. It was just getting hot. You're a lot bigger than I thought for a little guy."

"I got my spurt of growth there before it hit my legs, that's all."

"Nice spurt. You're okay. Sex wise I mean. You're a jerk otherwise."

"Is that all you think about?"

"Sex? Sure. Tell me it isn't all you think about! Go ahead. You got on a hard quick as I touched you. I just backed up against you. You grabbed my pecker, and you were trying to screw me before I knew what was what. I know where Hank keeps a box of condoms. I just made sure you didn't give me the AIDS."

"I've only been with...."

"With what? Who were you with, Billie Joe? Boy or girl? Or was it… let me see… I'm psychic you know. I'm seeing it now. Here it is. Yes! Billie Joe loves… it’s coming… maybe… Billie Joe loves Carl. That's it. You acting like you're so innocent. I looked at your hardware. I knew what you was when I read that. I just climbed in bed and planted my ass up next to you. You did the rest except the condom. I did that to be sure. I mean I don't mind helping you out. We're going to be on the road together. We're going to need to share."

"Road together? I never said nothing about that. You got to be joking me."

"Two guys that look like us are a lot safer together. You might get along okay alone, but sooner or later Willy Weirdo is going to pick you up, and none of that fancy shit is going to stop him from taking what he wants off you. That's why I make business deals. Instead of them having to take it off a me, I sell it to them. I get by, and they get off. Fair exchange."

"That's gross."

"You get hungry enough, nothing's gross. You sell it to them, and just maybe they don't take it. You're not at home in Iowa City or whatever now, kid. This is the highway, and you need someone like me to watch your back. I know the road. You need me"

"I need you like I need another hole in my head."

"You are right, Billie boy. When someone wants to buy you food, you take it. Every dime they spend on you is a dime you don't need to make. It doesn't seem like much now, because you got money in your pocket. On the road it will run out fast. If someone is nice enough, fool enough, or whatever, to spend money on you, don't spend your own. That's not road wise. Use your head you might make it. Think you can't learn from the pro because I tell it like it is. Listen to me and you’ll make it to California."

"I see your point on that one. Thanks. Yeah, I can do that okay. I don't mind someone buying me a burger or something. That's cool. I didn't say you couldn't help me out. I just don't like your style."

"I went through all the trouble of dressing you up there. Why don't we get back to getting proper use out of that thing? You didn't seem to be all that worked up until you thought about the AIDS. I've been tested. I never take it up my rear without a condom. I don't shoot drugs, and I've never had a blood transfusion."

"What's with the sex thing. Why are you so bold about it."

"Son, I'm a faggot. I suck dick. I get screwed. It's what I do. It's better than sitting around making small talk. My step-daddy told me when I was eleven that because my momma didn't give it to him any more, her youngest son would be expected to take up the slack."

"Eleven?" I blurted, having a different slant on Raymond’s audacity.

"Yeah! I been around,” he said like some college educated professor. “I woke up and I was eleven and my mother’s husband was up in me. I was more scared than hurt. He was a little man. Needle dick, I called him, never to his face. He'd come into my room and put a gallon of Vaseline up my hole, and he’d be going to town by the time I woke up. I started protesting and he put his hand on my mouth and explained the facts of life to me. The more I struggled the better he liked it, but I knew better than to tell anyone that I was his new girl.

"Two, three times a week he had a go at me. Then he wanted me to give him head with my mother in the house. He'd be drunk and sitting there watching television when I’d come in. He'd point to it. I'd have to go over and unzip him and do it until he finished up. Then I'd get a washcloth and clean him all off, and put him away and zip him up. My mother caught us just once. She was supposed to be out someplace. She came in the door and there I was just taking care of business. She looked at us as if stunned by what she saw. I guess she came to the conclusion, 'better him than me,' because she never said anything before closing the door as she left. When I was sixteen I like split.

"I didn't mind the sex so much. It was better than a beating if he hadn't been so mean to me otherwise. He wasn’t half bad looking. I liked it from that first night. A lot of the wiggling and squirming was trying to get it further up me. I felt like someone finally wanted me for something."

"That's awful," I said, not believing anyone could treat someone that way.

"Not really. I said I didn't mind it. That was always better than him being mad at me."

"You were a kid. He put it up your ass at eleven. I’d a got me a butcher knife and he’d only have gotten it up there once.”

“It was no big thing, Billie boy,” Raymond said casually, giving me a big smile and measuring my reaction.

“So that's why you're so sex crazy."

"I like sex. I’m good at it. Why not do it when you can. Practice makes perfect. Guys like Hank can’t get enough of guys like me."

"So you stayed there all that time and didn’t tell anyone?”

"Five years. He wasn't the only one. I met guys that gave me that look. I had this tight pair of cutoff jeans. I mean I cut them so high you could see everything if you looked a minute.”

"Not just your stepfather?"

"No, I met guys. I told you I liked it. I’d put on my cutoffs and go out and there’s a certain look a guy will give you if he’s thinking about wants he wants to…. Do I need to draw you a picture.”

“Why'd you leave home if you were having such a good time?"

“Supply and demand, Billie boy. Why give away something I could sell?”

“You’re full of shit.”

"I was tired of being used that for nothing. Like I said, if he'd been nice to me I might have stayed."

“How’d you stay alive out on the road?”

"Here, there. A guy in Spokane kept me three months. Old guy. He was okay and I kept house for him. He mostly did it to me. Blowjob stuff. He liked doing that, so I didn't hardly ever do nothing to him. He took care of me like I was his wife."

"What happened?"

"They get tired of you, Billie boy. Older gay men are like that. I don’t know if they get tired of it or if it’s the need they have to keep on searching for it. Whatever it is, older gay guys mostly want something new after they’ve had it too easy. He wanted something else. I moved on. I been with a dude in Oregon once. I stayed with a preacher in Salt Lake City. Real religious guy, only he got horny a lot, and I took care of business when he asked me."

He looked right in my eyes before he added, "You can stay alive on the road if you're cool. You can't survive alone for long. I figured you was gay when you let me touch you while I was with Hank. I could see you watching me. That's why I didn't put my clothes on. I can tell when someone is interested. The eyes tell all, Billie boy. I mean B.J. Then you let me feel you up this afternoon. You were in distress there for awhile. I figured I'd let it ache awhile. I saw your bracelet. I slipped it down on your wrist to get a good look. Nice piece a work. I don't know why I turned it over, but I must admit it surprised me. Who's Carl?"

"My lover," I said, and the words came out easy.

"Ouch! I thought we could be friends. Lover? Bad news."

"Why's it such bad news?"

"All that loyalty stuff. You think you have to be true to him. I know the symptoms. I been down that road. Your first lover?"

"First anything," I said, disliking his tone but lacking his skill with words.

"Oh boy! Fasten your seatbelt…."

He leaned his head back against my shoulder. I wanted to smack the shit out of him, he irritated me that much, but I sensed he was right about hitching alone. As distasteful as I found Raymond, I wanted to find a way to get along with him. It wasn’t going to be easy.

"I guess you got it bad, huh? Is that where you're heading? To meet up with your husband?"

"Fuck you. He's a soldier. He went overseas. We didn't make any rules up for each other.”

“How completely adult of you. He bought you that bobble, which could be in my bag if I wasn’t such a nice boy, and he couldn’t spring for a plane ticket home. What, he paid two, three hundred bucks for that jewelry.”

I decided to find guys like me to see what it means to be gay. He knew what I was going to do."

"Didn't tell you not to? Be true blue to me, Billie boy."

"No. He wanted me to say I would wait, but I told him it was all so new that if I promised him that and then couldn't keep the promise, I'd never feel right around him again. He told me to do what I had to do as long as I was waiting when he came off the plane. That's what I told him. So I aim to find out what being gay means."

"It means people spit on you. They kick shit out of you if you go to the wrong places. It means you're going to hell right after you die of AIDS. Welcome to my world."

“You got it?” I asked, alarmed.

“Nah, I ain’t never been no where gay. I been with husbands and old dudes too scared to go looking for love in all the right places,” he said sarcastically.

He grew solemn as he seemed to calculate his answer.

"Personally, I think the hell part comes first," I said. “Then you die.”

“Maybe,” he said seriously, giving up his wiseass answers.

"I just want to love somebody and be left alone."

"You want to be left alone, Billie boy? Go home. Find yourself some nice little girl-friend. Give me that bracelet, and settle down and make babies. Everyone will think you are just peachy keen. They'll leave you alone. They find out you are a fucking fag and they're going to make you miserable even if they decide to let you breathe the same air as they do."

"I like guys. I like Carl. I don't like girls. Not that way."

"You like me?"

"You're a loud mouth wise ass."

"Yeah, but all this red hair tickles your fancy. I see it in your face. I felt it in your pants, B.J."

"My name is Billie Joe."

"What's in a name, Billie boy?"

"Respect. Something you don't seem to be acquainted with."

"Sure I am. I respected my stepfather every time he shoved it to me. I respected my friends every time they shoved it to me until they were tired of me, and then I respected the road, and here I am. You earn respect."

"You've had it rough, but you're on your own. You can do what you want. Your decisions are all yours. It’s up to you to create the life you want to have."

“Is that what you’re doing? You’re a regular philosopher, Billie.”

“I know what I’m not going to let happen to me. That’s my philosophy. I want to find the gay community and make my mark on it. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“Do one more thing if you believe what you’re telling me. Don’t tell anyone your age. Anyone on the road or that knows the road is going to believe you’re younger. Go with that, Billie Joe. How old are you?”

“Seventeen. I’ll be seventeen in August anyway.”

“You’re going on sixteen in August.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Work with me here, Billie Joe. The younger people think you are the more they’ll be willing to help you. You can sell fifteen. You’ve got big ideas and you aren’t built all that big. Think fifteen and you are fifteen. I’m trying to tell you how to survive on the road.”

“Carl kept calling me kid,” I lamented. He’s a couple months older than me is all.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. How old are you anyway?”

“Six…. Fifteen. Almost sixteen.”

“Take my word for it. Play as young as you can get away with. Keep your eyes open for trouble, because you’re pretty smart, but go with fifteen. Take my word for it, you’ll stay safer.”

‘Yeah, I can do that. Sounds like a good idea.”

“Don’t sell fifteen with one dude and then tell someone else the truth. You’ll screw yourself up. Once you settle on fifteen stick with it. People’ll be more willing to give you a hand, an extra buck, or maybe even give you a place to stay to get you out of traffic.”

“That’s cool. You’re not seventeen?”

“No.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m seventeen,” he said with a smirk.

“I wish I was fifteen. My life was a lot easier last year. I could do all kinds of neat stuff with my friend, Ralphie,” I said distantly, going back to before the trouble started.

"I can’t do much for you but I can grant you that wish on account I’m a fairy you know. Poof, you’re fifteen,” he said sounding silly but way more likeable. “Now I can do what Hank wants. Or what the next guy wants. I can't do what I want as long as I belong to the road, Billie. You need to learn how it is out here."

"Hank seems okay. You started it with him. You make trouble for yourself if you don’t like it."

"He's cool. He's one of the good ones. Married, three kids, and stuck out on the road. Most guys are like him. I got what he wants and he has what I’m looking for. Jingle.”

“You ask for it. Wait until you find a guy you like before you start wiggling your ass. It might be more fun that way.”

“I knew what he wanted when he picked me up. That's what most guys want when they pick you up. We're pretty little boys, and they want us to make them feel youn--g and alive. Give them a shot of our youth without putting into question their manhood. You’ll learn, Billie Joe."

"You're one cynical son of a bitch"

"I suppose. I learned that on the road too. I came out here expecting a big party."

"You could tone it down a bit you know, and maybe someone would like you a little better for something besides your mouth and asshole."

"You don't seem to mind my ass."

"Interesting, I suppose. I was just surprised. I saw you with Hank. I've only done it with Carl."

"You ever seen a guy could do it to himself? Suck his own pecker."

"Shit no! Nobody can do that," I advised him.

"Want to bet on it?"

"What do you want to bet?"

"I can suck myself off, you butt fuck me."

"Nobody can do that," I said confidently.

"You can't lose then. If I can't do it, I suck you off. You can't lose if you lose, B.J."

"Go ahead. Let me see it. I dare you."

I watched Raymond spin around and press his back against the side of the bed with his legs shooting up across the ceiling and then he wiggled until his feet settled in back of his head. He was all the time yanking on himself, and I watched him pulling it down to his mouth. There it was maybe a half an inch from his lips, but he wasn't quite able to get to the top of it.

"Press down a little on the back of my legs."

I put my hand on the back of his leg, and as quick as I touched him the top two inches slipped between his lips.

"I'll be! You can do that!!"

"Go ahead and rub me there. It's okay. Open the curtain a little so some light comes in. You can touch it. I see you're watching it."

I looked at the pink hole. I placed my fingers on it. It was hot, and smooth, and the way he had his legs made just a tiny piece of it open. I slid my finger into it . . . just the tip. I realized I was sticking straight up out of my briefs. The rubber still covered me.

"Damn nice little package you got there. You're thicker than old Hank or me. If I scoot around the other way, you can do it while I suck myself."

"Do what?"

"You lost the bet. You aren't going back out on the bet."

"I suppose not."

"Just lean your back up on the top and you can slide right down. I'll show you when I cum. You can see how much it turns me on doing both ends at the same time. Todd and I did this all the time."

"Sucking your own pecker. I've seen it all now!"

"I still got a few tricks I can teach you. Let's go. You got me all worked up. Get in there and show me if you know how to screw."

I didn't think any more about it. A bet was a bet. I had known I wanted to have sex with Raymond when I first saw him naked. He was right about the red hair, and the pink hole made it better. I slid in easy but steady. He moaned until my dark hair was against his pure white skin.

The sounds were quiet, but they made me hot listening to him doing it to himself. I got carried away after a few minutes and really shoved it to him. I must have filled that condom up, because it was squishy and my thing was all wet when I pulled up out of him. It was nothing like Carl. I didn't care about him at all, or if he liked it, but I knew he did. His ass was hot and I fell back on the bunk in a puddle of wet sticky liquid.

"Shit. You done it all over the bunk."

"What could I do. You were going wild up there on top. I didn't want to break your concentration. I haven't got it like that since I was raped my first month out."

"You been raped?"

"Yep."

"Did they hurt you?"

"Yep."

"Damn. You have been around."

"Yeah, and I know when I've had it by someone that knows how to do it. I take back what I said about you. Carl must have taught you well."

"We taught each other."

"You tired?"

"I thought I'd sleep all night. I was laid up in a motel room for four days with Carl. We didn't sleep half the time. It caught up with me riding."

"Do you mind if I stay back, and maybe you can hold me for a few minutes."

The request hit me like a bullet. With all the bravado and arrogance Raymond gave off, he needed some one to hold him. I knew what it was like being held, and I knew what it was like to do the holding. There was no way I could turn him down. The idea wasn't all that distasteful to me. There was something about him that made me want to be close to him. I wanted to hold him, comfort him. I didn't like being alone, and when I left Seattle I knew I was going some place where I could hold men and be held by them. It didn't replace Carl, but at least it gave me a feeling of warmth and sharing, and, like Raymond, I needed more than anything to be held or to hold someone I liked being with.

We cleaned up Raymond's mess, and slept on top of the second sheet. He peeled my underwear off and reached around for my hand. He put it under his arm and across his chest where he held my hand in his. He backed up against the front of me, and I felt embarrassed that I stood up as soon as I slid into the crack of his smooth white butt. We'd have to get up and hit the road in the morning. I wanted to get the best night's sleep I could. I felt his smooth warmth, and it drifted further and further away from me before I could think about sleeping.

Chapter 8

Lonesome Highway

It was cool in the morning, but Raymond was wearing some ridiculous cutoffs that left nothing to be imagined.

We were hitching after leaving the truck and Hank, and we picked up our first ride about forty five minutes after we first stuck out our thumbs. I leaned against my gym bag dozing when a car stopped behind us about ten feet from my feet. It was an elderly man. He was going to Roseburg. He kept drifting onto the shoulder looking at Raymond's long lean legs. Raymond kept smiling at the guy like he knew what the guy wanted.

We rolled up the ramp across from a Texaco Station on the other side of Route 5, and Raymond said before we got out, "Don't you want to ask me something."

"No," the man said nervously.

"I know what you want. For the right price it's all yours."

"I'm getting out. Move Raymond," I said.

I headed out toward the Texaco, needing a Coke. I tried to call my brother. He was already at work. He would be pissed I didn't call the night before. Raymond came charging up to me at the Coke machine.

"Don't you ever fuck with me when I'm doing business. You cost me twenty bucks. Or more! I could have hooked that old fart."

"I just said let me out."

"You fuck. You knew I was going with you. I don't want to split up."

"I'm just a fuck. You don't need me."

"I don't need anyone," he said, indignant. "You need my help. You're not road wise," he said.

"Coke?"

"You buying?"

"Sure!" I put my money in the slot and handed him a Coke.

"I drink grape," he complained.

I grabbed the coke out of his hand and threw a wounded duck spiral into the middle of the street fifty yards away, sailing it just over the roof of a passing car.

"Why wouldn't you let me kiss you this morning? I really liked you holding me last night. I mean thank you."

"Fuck me. Did you say thank you, Ray boy?"

"Don't call me that. Tricks call me that."

"Oh, poor Ray boy. Ain't I your trick, Ray boy. Didn't I give Ray boy what he wanted last night."

"Why not?" he persisted, refusing to take his eyes off of mine.

He leaned with his long, lithe body up against the soda machine like it was his man. One arm stretched up the side with his hand holding the top, and the other hand was around the front of the machine like it was someone's midsection. The side of his face touched the side of the machine at the front. His blue eyes were clouded with red lines. There were heavy shadows under his eyes. His red hair blazed on top of his head. He almost looked angelic as he studied every inch of me.

"Give me a break. We screwed last night. You can't kiss me?"

"Screwing you was learning something. It told me I would rather hold you. I'm not looking for love, Raymond. I'm looking for myself. You fascinate me in a repulsive kind of way. I don't want to make love to you. I don't want to swap spit with you. I answered my biological needs by screwing you. Because you did everything you could to get me interested, might I add, or you wouldn't have added me to your trick list."

"Why not answer the call of your lips."

"They belong to someone else. I'm in love with Carl. When he kisses me it is like the grandest experience of my life. Our first kiss lasted for hours. It was like being in heaven. There isn't anyone else that could do that. Even if there is, I don't care. I've been kissed by the best."

"Why screwing and not kissing? I got good lips. I can kiss good. I'm experienced."

"Seems less personal. I wasn't really screwing you. I was getting a nut, as Carl would say. You waved it up in my face and offered it to me. I could have gone in a stall and whacked it, but I know all about that. Why not do it in a way that is new to me. That's why I'm out here."

"You're crazy. You don't like me? I don't turn you on, Billie Joe? Why aren't you with what's-his-name anyway."

"Does it really matter, Raymond? I told you he's gone overseas."

"I don't know. I want you to like me. I like you. Why don't you like me? Everybody likes me for a couple a times anyway. I don't think of you as a trick. Tricks pay. I give it to you gladly because you're good for being so young."

"You scare me. You're looking to get whacked, and I don't need it. I want to learn something. I promised I wouldn't get dead or hurt. You're going to get hurt. I don't want to be around when you do."

"What do you want me to do to make you like me. I give good head. Hank could have told you."

"You can't make me do anything. I'm going down the highway. You're going down the highway. We're going down the highway together right now. We satisfied our needs last night. That's all."

"You don't find me attractive at all?"

"Why don't you leave it alone. I like looking at you. Especially I like looking at different parts of you. That's why I went with it last night. I wanted to know what it was like with someone that attracted me in a pure sex way. All I wanted was to do it and see what it was like."

"What did you think? Will we do it again?"

"I think it was okay. I don't know, and I think we should hit the road."

"Carl didn't attract you?"

"Hell no. He was an asshole. He got in my face, pushed me around. Treated me like a kid."

"Kinda like me, huh? Until he started wanting you. Seeing you sexual. He wanted it when he found out what a wild little fuck you could be."

"No. Not like you . . . . Yeah! Come to think of it -- kinda like I didn't like you at first, too."

"There is some hope we can stick together? You just said you liked me. You said it," he beamed.

"Today. That's all. We'll see what happens today. You quit being a wise ass and I might say yes."

"You need me, Billie Joe. I know the streets. You'll die out here alone."

"The way you act, I'll die out here with you. Tone it down or we get different rides next time. I'm telling you right out. You come on to someone like that old man again, and we get off at different places. I don't even know you, you do that again."

"I can't help it. It's the way I am. Make a buck when you can."

"That's something else. I won't ever do that. I won't ever sell myself. I've too much respect."

"You're proud to be gay, are you?"

"Fuck you, Ray boy. I'm proud of who I am even if that means I'm gay. I'm not proud of having to sneak around, break the law, be made to feel like I'm some rodent. That don't do much to make me proud. But I'll never do nothing that makes me ashamed again."

"What made you ashamed, Billie Joe."

"Sneaking looks in the shower. Wanting to touch. Making up ways to get what I wanted. Hiding what I felt inside. Even from me."

We walked back toward the road. Raymond made me uncomfortable with his questions. He made me think about stuff I would prefer just to let slide. I was attracted to him, and sex with him was better than all those years alone with my hand. His redness gave me a thrill down right behind my best part. He made me tingle when I got too close to him, and he made me hard when I could smell him. He always smelled of sex. He always smelled like he just climbed out of a shower, and like sex. That was Raymond.

"What else don't you do so I know?"

"Only one thing."

"I was waiting for an entire list. We might do all right after all. Give me the last rule, Billie Joe. No lovin' on you. No kissin' on you and . . . ?"

"My ass is Carl's. No one will ever have that but him."

"You are dreaming. You're out on the highway and think no one is going to put a knee in your back and your face in the dirt and make you bleed? Dream on gay boy. Dream on."

"That's what I said. That is a promise I made to myself. Carl will be the first when he gets back."

"Carl. Carl. Carl. He must be something."

"Yep! He's something. You got that right."

The sun broke through the clouds and we ended up at Fat Somebody's Truck Stop a hundred miles north of California. We decided to get lunch since it was afternoon. They had all you could eat biscuits and gravy left over from breakfast. We both packed it in . Best meal I ever ate, but it was the first one that day, so the five pounds of food just filled me up. I could hardly walk when we left. It was a bright warm afternoon. We decided to walk and hitch. Raymond wanted to just stand. The trees were all green and thick. I liked smelling them. I liked to walk. I felt like running, but with Raymond I knew better.

The car was black with those smoke windows. I should have known not to get in. You get those little nagging crawlers on the back of your neck when you're doing something stupid. My legs were tired, and we'd been walking for over an hour. We weren't even hitching, just struggling to get up this hill we were on. The car passed, slowed, jerked onto the shoulder like he was checking us.

"Where you boys going," he said leaning toward the door Raymond opened.

"California."

"Hop in."

"You brothers?"

"Shit!" I said, as Raymond held the seat so I was forced into the back. I preferred being far away from people I didn't know, so I didn't protest his obvious control maneuver.

The guy seemed nice enough. He couldn't have been thirty. He yakked and yakked like he hadn't talked in weeks. I fell asleep after all the fresh air and walking, and a ton of biscuits and gravy of course.

Raymond's yelling woke me up. I don't know what he said, but I heard my name, and this guy is like ripping his shorts off. We were up on a ramp. It was almost dark. My heart was going like a million miles a second. My first thought was getting the hell out of there. Every man for himself.

"Sit back there, you know what's good for you, kid," the guy yelled, putting his hand in my face pushing me down.

"Get out! Get out, Billie Joe! Get out while you can! He wants you cause you’re small."

I heard the cloth rip and the guy unzipped his pants while his other beefy arm held Raymond by the throat. I heard Raymond squeaking for breath as this guy pulls out his big hard dick. It was all red and raging, and then he was fighting with Raymond's arms and trying to get his legs up as he got his weight between them. I couldn't think. I started to reach for the door again, and his big hand let go a roundhouse. He smacked me upside the head, knocking me back onto the seat

Thank you Jesus. Never underestimate the value of marshal arts training. He had made his fatal mistake. It shocked me, stunned me, scared me, not unlike a hundred nights at Karate. I used the position he put me in and leaning back on my elbows I stuck my foot in his ear with about five hundred pounds psi. I heard his head crack against the windshield as I caught him by total surprise. He slid off Raymond and down on the floor groaning.

Instantly, Raymond's naked ass was up and out the door and running up the side of this ramp out in the middle of nowhere. He rolled down a bank and ran up into the woods. I was right behind him. I never looked back once I got through the door of his car. The guy was still on the floor groaning, and I didn't waste time seeing if he was recovering. I went into the woods where Raymond disappeared. I ran for fifty yards or so before I stopped and looked back toward the highway and the terror.

It was utterly quiet standing there. I particularly listened for anyone coming into the woods. I knew the guy could handle both of us easy once he was prepared to do battle . I wouldn't let him get that shot. I stood as my heart calmed. I listened to every sound. Our sudden entrance scared the woods into a dead silence.

Slowly the frogs and crickets started back up. There were no footsteps, and no movement save a squirrel rustling long dead leaves as he hopped off in the distance. I sat down with my back against a tree that faced the road. I looked out in all directions and tried to find the best escape route if it became necessary. I looked for Raymond. He had run in the same direction, but he'd stopped by the time I stopped to listen. Then I realized I could hear him crying somewhere close. I stood up, still checking for anyone approaching. I took one precise, slow step at a time. Raymond was on his face with his hands over his head, naked but for a T-shirt that was now stretched down off both of his shoulders, and his shoes.

"Don't. Don't. Don't kill me. Please don't kill me," he sobbed.

"It's me, Raymond. It's okay. He didn't follow us."

Raymond turned over and sat up holding his knees up to his chest looking around, shaking. Finally he looked up at me.

"Wipe your mouth. It's bleeding pretty good. He got you a good one all right."

I felt my face and the bruise on the side. There was a trickle of blood at the corner that ran down to my chin. It hurt as soon as I touched it. The side of my head now ached.

"Thank you."

"Thank me. All I did was get my ass out a there."

"He was fucking me . I think he would have killed us. He got all crazy when he pulled up that ramp. Said to piss. We were just joking and then he was on top of me. I mean it was like he was smiling and kidding like a regular guy, and then he was ripping my clothes off, saying he couldn't wait to finish so he could get the 'little boy,' he said, and was taking out his cock. He woulda raped me for sure. Like it happened before. I've seen that look. That animal craziness comes to 'em. He wanted you most of all."

Raymond drew a deep shuddering breath.

"You get your stuff? I lost everything. My money was in my bag. He got it all."

"I got mine. I got money. Here. I have a pair of sweat pants. They'll be way short, but you're skinny as me in the waist. Cover yourself up will you?"

I held my bag out digging through it and tossing him my gray sweat pants.

"Turning you on there, Billie boy?" he joked through his tears.

"Yeah, Raymond. Something like that. You need help?"

"I can't get up. I don't know if I'm just scared or I hurt myself. I can't get up."

"Take my hand. You'll be okay. You were running like a thoroughbred champion when I got out of the car."

I pulled Raymond to his feet and he stood on his own and against my arm. He grabbed me and held me, and then, with a gulp, he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I wanted to move away from the front of the woods, but he just lost it big time. After awhile he leaned on me and put on my sweat pants and an old shirt that only came down to six inches above his belly button. He looked like he had gone through a quick wash and dry and everything had shrunk up on him. It was kind of funny, but I couldn't laugh or appreciate the humor much at the time.

We walked deeper into the woods. He still held onto one of my arms and walked like he might fall into some chasm he imagined was in the dark.

"Let's sit for awhile," he finally said, after we walked maybe half a mile into the woods.

"Sure. This should be safe."

We sank to the ground at the base of a big tree. "We should stay here tonight. We can't risk being on that road at dark. He's still there. I know he's still there. He'll look for us to get back out there. We are in the boonies. No traffic at night. He'll have a free shot at us if we go out there."

"No! No!!" Raymond agreed with mounting panic in his voice. "I don't want to go to the highway. I need to rest. Will you hold me, please, Billie Joe. I need you to hold me."

We leaned against the tree and I held him as he put his face next to my chest and cried. He shook for a long time and went to sleep. I sat listening to the sounds, waiting for a foot to crunch a leaf. I didn't dare sleep. Terror rested in the pit of my stomach, waiting to take me again. My body was as tight as a guitar string. Every sound was a threat .

The dark closed in and took over everything. My eyes betrayed me. The night won a victory over vigilance, leaving us at the mercy of fate with no one awake to divert it.

There were traces of light shining through the highest limbs when I felt my heart racing wildly inside my chest. The sudden reality told me I'd been asleep. I forced my eyes wide open looking for the terror to be upon me. Instead it was Raymond's nursing mouth. It took me all of a minute to realize he was giving me head. I wanted to smack him, make him stop, but there was something about what he did that assured me I was still alive and not being stalked by some predator with no name. I leaned my head back and let his mouth draw me farther and farther from last night.

My body belonged to him after a minute or two more of his devoted sucking attention. Each time I thought I was about to fill him up with my fear and longing, it suddenly stopped rising, and fell like a stone into some black hole. Struggling to climb up to know I lived and could reach heights I knew would set me free from the terror, I watched him move up, down, around, never letting up or fading in his ardor. His red hair teased my passion with a wanton lust that I didn't feel around Carl. My own hand went to work on him as a sticky puddle surrounded my fingers in only a minute. His mouth became more intense after he knew I was a part of his attempt to enslave me to his desire.

My hand filled with his bountiful reward as he squirmed and squeaked and moaned on me with his mouth. The sucking became furious and demanding. Through his actions, he commanded me to respond while he was still giving me the fruits of his labor to rub through my fingers and to taste and to smell and to rub on my face and lips and onto my neck, and then into his hair as he took me there without my having thought it was a place I could or would ever live to reach again. I held his face down until his lips touched my skin behind my thick cock hair. He took me there and I was alive and well and forcing him to endure my rage and lust as I rammed myself into his mouth, pressing his face into my groin, and wanting to force him to swallow every drop and then to wash me clean with his licking. My body stopped quivering and still he was stiff and ready for more if I was inclined to encourage my handful of his lust. I stood up, put myself away, and watched him look up at me like a puppy. The sweat pants were around his knees and he stood straight out when he rolled on his back looking up at me with his craziness back on his face.

"Nothing like being alive, Billie Joe! Nothing like sucking a dick when you're alive. Nothing like tasting that essence of your soul in my throat. You are talented and good at what you do. Thank You."

"Thank you? You fucking sucked me off while I was sleeping. Thank you?"

"For saving my life. I told you that you needed me, but it was always me that needed you. I know things. I knew you would keep me alive. It's the only thing I have to give you now. My talent."

"I kept me alive, Raymond. You were just in the way when I split, that's all. I didn't save you. You saved you."

"Right, Billie Joe. I saved myself with that guy strangling me and shoving his cock up my ass like I was a pound and a half of ground round he bought for the purpose. You saved yourself, and you saved me in the meantime. The only way I feel alive is having sex, so when I woke up, I wanted to feel alive. I didn't have to do much but unzip you. You were already ready for me. Waiting to ride my mouth."

"Did he hurt you bad."

"Some. I'm still bleeding, but it will heal. Did before."

"Let me see," I said.

Raymond rolled over on his face turning so his ass was facing me and got down on his elbows and poked his ass up at me. I spread his cheeks and told him it was pretty red and one little corner was still dribbling blood a little.

"I'll live to fuck again, Billie Joe."

"No doubt. Let's get the hell out of here."

"You want to go to the road?"

"We'll stay in the woods. We'll walk back where we came from before we get on the road. He'll expect us to be south of the ramp where he raped you. He won't figure we'll go north. Since he was heading south he won't want to go any further north than necessary. I think he's gone, but I don't want to risk it by going right out there."

We tracked through the woods for a couple of hours. Always going north, with Raymond making enough noise to alert California we were coming. He dragged his feet through the leaves and held the waist of my sweats up because they kept sagging down around his red hairs. The string was gone, lost during a spin dry cycle back in Minnesota. We sat on the ridge next to the woods, and each time I saw a car that wasn't black with smoke windows, I raced down and shoved out my thumb. Each time it passed I climbed up to the tree line looking for the next one.

The car was new and shiny. The couple was old and gray. There was a back door, and they gushed over "two such attractive little boys" being out on the road. They wanted to know what happened to my face. I told them I had fallen in the dark. The old woman drove while the old man studied the red hairs that showed four inches below Raymond's belly button. Raymond was right. They all wanted it.

We let them think we were brothers because it was what they made up for us. We decided we'd keep their fiction for future rides. Something about brothers being together and fighting for one another if necessary. We talked it over and liked it. We rode deep into California before we stopped near Redding at the 76 Truck Stop late in the day. We were both starved and I spent too much money feeding us, but what good was money if I was dead. I started to think about going home for the first time. It just came to me as an option I hadn't had the day before. The day before I was king of the road. Today I was scared shitless.

I called my brother. He must have been sitting on the phone. Half way through the first ring he was yelling at me already. Why didn't I call last night? Where had I been? Where was I? What was going on? I said I was fine and hung up. So much for going home.

Raymond and I walked out toward the woods to sleep that night, and passed behind some "bed buggers.” They started talking to us. They were furniture haulers from the east coast waiting to get out of California. One was named Ingmar. When I told him I was from Minnesota we were suddenly old friends, and he told me about all his aunts and uncles and cousins from the old Country. Yahhh! They were all scattered across Minnesota now. Ingmar was a huge and friendly guy. He made us sit with him and his crew. It seemed better than being alone.

I hadn't drunk beer before, but it seemed like the proper time to add another law to the list of the ones I was smashing to bits in my wake. I drank two whole beers and felt like I had just conquered the world. Or the 76 Truck Stop, at least. In the back of Ingmar's truck I felt safe for the first time in 24 hours. Ingmar made us a place in a massive pile of blankets that they apparently used to protect the furniture they carried. Raymond and I crawled back toward the rear and he stripped naked, covering us with a blanket as he curled up next to me. He fell asleep two minutes after we lay down, with his arms around me and his best part at the ready and digging into my thigh.

My mind rode around propelled by beer foam. I thought of Minnesota. And you know who. I cried because I didn't think I could remember what he looked like. Then I thought of my parents and cried. Then I thought of John and how damn mad he was, and I went to sleep knowing that tomorrow I had to go outside the truck, outside the truck stop, and out to the highway. I shivered while having nightmares about Raymond screaming and dying in the front seat while I slept. I woke up with the driver on top of me and strangling me and ripping my clothes off. I shook and cried and held onto Raymond, who only woke up a little to ask what was wrong. He was sleeping again before I answered or could calm back down.

I sat with my eyes wide open. The affects of the beer and the foam were gone. I lay awake for what seemed like hours, listening to huge trucks moving around the lot. The engines rumbled endlessly, and the activity never stopped. It somehow became a comfort after a time, feeling the vibrations of the giant beasts as they roamed the lot searching for the terror. I took off my clothes and pulled Raymond's body next to mine and assumed the position I loved so much. I buried myself in his breach and held his soul in my hand. His skin was cool and refreshing and I immediately found comfort and pushed out the demon terror, having found a quiet way to rest as close to him as I could get. Drifting away from the viciousness of my world was my reward for realizing I needed Raymond's body as much as he needed mine. We had become brothers out of necessity.

I truly never knew fear before the sedan with dark windows stoopped for us.

Chapter 9

Ingmar's Heart

Two nights after leaving Hank, Raymond and I were north of Redding, California, a little the worse for wear, and sleeping in the back of a moving van owned by Ingmar Johansen with Kyle, his nephew and helper.

By any measure, we'd had a pretty rough trip to that point, and we ended up sleeping in piles of blankets that were far more comfortable than the ground in the woods where we had slept the night before.

But I didn't sleep well at first. There was a demon chasing me, and each time I closed my eyes I saw him. It took my decision to get undressed and wrap my body around Raymond's before I slept soundly. I'm sure I slept a long time. It was daylight when my eyes opened to see Ingmar standing over me while the front of my body pressed against Raymond's back. I was startled, and immediately assumed I was about to be raped or forced to perform some sex act. I'd never been raped, and I'd never been forced to commit any act, save being forced to go to church on Sundays until I was old enough to say no. While the fear ran through me, Ingmar held out a large glass. It was filled with ice cold orange juice. He smiled when I leaned up to take the glass. I was still half asleep and shaking from the initial fear. I felt bad that Ingmar had treated me very respectfully, and that thinking he could do something mean was my own invention. The juice cooled my parched throat.

While drinking the juice I realized I was naked, and the blanket that covered Raymond and me was askew to reveal we were both not wearing a stitch. I tried to cover us as best I could without appearing to be hiding anything. I thought Ingmar had to have seen me holding Raymond while standing there. His face remained pleasant, however, even cordial. I waited for him to speak, but he said nothing.

"Thanks. That's so good. I was dry as a bone."

Ingmar settled on the pile of blankets beside me. He bounced until it fit his butt.

"You want to tell, Ingmar about your troubles maybe? He's got such a good ear for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Your face has the mark of someone's hand. The ring I can see on your cheek. You've been beaten and you tell Ingmar you fall. Do you think I could be doing harm for you?"

"No. You've been swell, Ingmar. What's the point of talking over old stuff. It's over. I got hit."

"Was he your father hit you?"

"No. A ride we got, Ingmar. A crazy man tried to rape Raymond. He's wearing my sweat pants because his shorts were torn off. All his other clothes were left in his bag in the car when we ran. It was in Oregon. A long way."

"It is hurting you?"

"No! Yeah, it aches some. My jaw's sore."

"You let Ingmar help you now that you are telling me truth?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ingmar has big heart for young children. My own nephew is working for me because his father and he do not like each other and he needs to be making money for the school. Ingmar will be helping you. Maybe keep you off the road for some time. It is dangerous for a young lad today."

"I'm with Raymond, Ingmar. I can't leave him. He was raped. Hurt. I can't leave him now."

"Your friend is also my friend. Raymond is a child as well. You are both welcome for staying with me. As you can see we are more than plentiful with the room. We carry a whole house with us, no?"

I didn't know what to say. Raymond slept on. He never even moved while we talked. I thought that maybe Ingmar was the answer to the terror for a while. He left me to think, and disappeared out in the light through the huge double doors that had been propped open ever since we got there.

I finished my juice and lay back against Raymond. I was still exhausted. Fear does that. It takes everything out of you. We'd spent a night and a day in absolute madness, trying to avoid seeing our attacker a second time.

"You are sitting up for a moment, Billie?"

"What?"

I woke again hard. The light hurt my face. Ingmar touched it, and I jerked away with a sudden shot of hot and cold running through my jaw as I once more let go of Raymond.

"What are you doing?" I growled, wincing at the pain, as he knelt beside me on the hard wood.

"Ice pack. Probably too late to help much, but worth a try. Should be easing up the pain."

My hand went up to feel the towel and his hand holding it. My hand touched his. His was huge and mine a tiny thing in comparison. Ingmar was six six or more, and way over two hundred pounds. Just being with him made me feel safe from my terror. My hand stayed on his in gratitude. He did not move from his duty, and could see the appreciation in my face. "Raymond is hurting too, maybe?"

"More scared. His . . . ah, rear is, ah . . . injured some. It didn't look too awful bad. He had me see if he was tore up or not."

"This man did something to Raymond's hiney?"

"He fuuu . . . . Ah, he put his . . . ah . . . penis inside him."

"I wish to know this man. Ingmar would take his arms and legs off with his hands for you."

"I'd enjoy that, Ingmar, and I'm not the violent type. Raymond said he was going to kill us."

"You stay with Ingmar awhile. No one will bother you. That is my promise to my boys. I take care my boys. Anyone touch you, they answer to Ingmar. My heart is big and I am strong enough to do as I say to you. I promise!"

I held his hand and gulped a couple of quick sobs from the relief of knowing I wouldn't run into our tormentor again. I was sure being with Ingmar was the smartest place to be. He pulled me into his chest, this gentle giant. Still holding the ice in place and with his hand on my bare ass, he hugged me.

"You are to be safe now. You sleep and I'll bring sweet rolls and milk later. Raymond can help on the loading and unloading and you can help on the papers I do not have much understanding with. We will be all right, my boys and Ingmar, together."

Ingmar replaced me next to Raymond, and Kyle stood tall over his shoulder looking on. You could tell they were related. Kyle may have been only about twenty, but he was well over six foot and had very curly blond hair identical to Ingmar's. He was thin, like a boy, but tall like a man. His face was without expression. It was the first time I had looked at him, and the light strained my eyes. He turned and followed Ingmar out. He looked back over his shoulder once, searching out my eyes. I was left holding a towel full of melting ice against my face. He was left wondering about something he didn't say.

My head was swimming around the inside of the truck. The sun passed over top of the door to relieve my eyes and headache. I lay back down holding the ice in place. It took maybe fifteen minutes for Kyle to come back with a white paper bag. He stood five feet away and said nothing, but I thought the bag contained what would be welcome sweet rolls for my growling stomach. I reached out my hand and he moved toward me holding out the bag.

"You guys okay?"

"Yeah! Thanks. These will hit the spot."

"Ingmar says you were raped."

"Not me. I was belted. Raymond was raped."

"It's wrong for anyone to do such a thing. I'm sorry for your trouble. Ingmar says you are staying with us. I'm Kyle."

He reached his less imposing hand for mine.

"You are safe here. You are welcome here."

"I'm Billie Joe. I'm afraid Raymond's pretty much out of it. He was pretty shook up. It's the first real rest we've gotten in two days"

"Ingmar will bring the doctor."

"Do what?"

"Doctor Dan is here. Ingmar is getting him for you. He's a trucker now, but did doctor."

"We don't need a doctor. We'll get over it. Being safe is the nicest thing for us."

"We won't allow anyone to touch you. Ingmar says I should not let you go off without me if he isn't going to be with you. He doesn't want this man coming back for you."

"It was eight hours up the road. Hundreds of miles"

"Ingmar says 'careful causes safety'. He's a pretty hard fellow to go against when he makes up his mind. I'm afraid you are in his care for a time."

"I'm all for it, Kyle. I feel better just knowing I don't have to get back out there."

A little later, I watched an older man in a long black coat carrying a black bag climb into the rear of the truck. Ingmar was close behind. He immediately dropped his bag at my bare feet and grabbed my face turning it from side to side with a strong, rough hand.

"Hmmm!" he said. "Smile. Show me your teeth. Stick your tongue out. All the way. Further. Okay. Move your jaw from side to side. Chew. Harder. Chew for god sake! Eat a sweet roll."

"What?"

"You're fine. You can eat a sweet roll. Looks like a bad bruise. It might be cracked, but you don't seem to have much loose in your range of motion. Stand up and turn around."

I held the blanket up in front of me. He yanked it away and grabbed my ass cheeks.

"No! Doctor, the other one was raped," Ingmar said.

"Turn around."

I turned around with Kyle and Ingmar looking at my body. The doctor grabbed my smooth balls.

"Cough. Again. Harder. You are okay. Did he hit you any place beside your face."

"He slapped me first. He punched me in the same place."

"Neck pain?"

"No, sir."

"You might want to sit in front of your friend so we don't scare shit out of him when we wake him up," the doctor said, yanking the blanket off Raymond.

Kyle held a smaller blanket up in front of me and smiled as he helped me wrap it around me. His hands were warm and his face radiant with a smile. I sat down in front of Raymond as he lifted his head in reaction to the commotion around us.

"What's the fucking problem?"

"Doctor's here."

"Doctor? I don't need a fucking doctor. I need some sleep. Go away!"

The doctor spread Raymond's ass cheeks without ceremony.

"Bend your knees. Further. You boys can't do anything. Further."

"I can't afford no doctor. Get the fuck off me."

"I work cheap. Ingmar's buying me breakfast. Don't worry, I was excommunicated years ago. I work cheap. Nobody trusts me but truckers that are in misery. They don't sue and they're always grateful."

The doctor worked as he talked. He blotted two gauze pads of blood, and threw them each on the floor. Raymond held both of my hands as the doctor probed with his finger inside him.

"Jesus. I've felt dick's smaller than that."

Kyle laughed and tried to catch it before anyone heard him. He held his fingers on his mouth.

"Am I ever going to shit again, doc?"

"Likely. I doubt you'll want to for a week or so. I can get away without stitches. I'll give you some meds that make your shit soft and runny. That'll save you from feeling like you are passing a truck each time you go. Might save you from constipation. I'll look at it tomorrow. It looks like it is starting to heal, but it might need a couple of stitches. You've been torn before. You been raped before, son?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get Kyle to punch you around a little. Break your nose, knock out a few teeth. Might discourage guys from falling in love with your ass hole." He chuckled. "Just kidding. Just kidding. I'm not allowed to prescribe any more, but with a face like that, you might consider a sex change. Might save you a lot of grief! And don't get locked up, whatever you do. They'll love you to death in the joint."

"You been inside?"

"A spell. Seen lots of assholes a lot worse than yours."

"It hurts like shit," Raymond said, with everyone looking at his asshole.

"I'll give you some ointment. It'll take the pain out. Don't be eating no bean burritos for a few days, either. You'll live to regret it you do."

"Roll over son."

Raymond sat on the blankets while the doctor checked all the equipment.

"Left testicle swollen. Right one might be. He knee you there?"

"I don't know. I was too busy trying to get his dick out of my ass."

"We'll check you tomorrow. If they stay sore, you might need to have some x-rays."

"Right. You got that in your truck or something?"

"No. I haven't found a way to do that yet. I'd like to get me one of those MRI machines. Those are hot! Anyway, you look not too much the worse for wear. I'll give you things that will help, and in a few days you should be okay. I'm awful hungry, Ingmar. Lucky I could finish this job before you fed me. I feel like a double order of something coming on."

"If you can't prescribe, where's the medicine come from?"

"I'm not allowed to prescribe, son. When someone is in need, there's always a way. The Lord provides for those in need. Yes he does, son."

"Maybe he provides for you. He ain't never done a damn thing for me."

"Son, how can you be so blind. He's provided you with me, and Ingmar. I should check those eyes. You might need glasses."

The doctor had his arm around Ingmar's shoulder as they hopped down off the back of the truck. They talked a mile a minute. Kyle stood facing us, and didn't move.

"He take root or something," Raymond said, looking up at him.

"He's our body guard when Ingmar's not around."

"What?"

"We work for Ingmar. I hired us on while you had your beauty sleep. He's afraid this guy might be out there looking for us. He says no one will bother us if we are with him. It was an offer I couldn't refuse. I'm afraid I've sold your ass into slavery. You get to load trucks. I get to hold the clipboard and supervise you. You do know about that brains and brawn shit?" "You shit! I don't lift nothing heavier than my coffee cup."

"That's okay," Kyle said. "He's mostly worried about the little guy. He said he would take you because Billie Joe said you were together."

"You said that did you?"

"No. What I said is, I don't do labor, and he better take you to do the heavy work."

"You got something else in that bag I can wear. Those sweats are driving me nuts. I don't have anything to hold ‘em up."

"I got shorts, but they'll never fit over your hips."

"I gave up shorts you might recall. I want to cover myself up some."

"I've got some pants might work. You'll have to tie the waist up, but they might be okay."

Kyle went to get Raymond a pair of pants, and Raymond sat there naked and waiting.

"You okay?"

"Shit. Horny as hell. I kept waking up last night with you up against me. I knew I couldn't do anything. You were driving me nuts. Then that doctor starts playing with me. I had to really work on not getting hard in his hand. Figured it wouldn't be the polite thing to do."

"Never knew you to be very polite."

"Hanging around with you too long, I guess. I'm sorry about last night."

"Sorry for what?"

"I heard you when you fell asleep."

"Heard what."

"Fighting that guy again."

Raymond held his knees and looked out into the harsh light and back to the floor. He tried to fight back the tears, but they ran anyway. I didn't know what to do.

"I wanted to hold you, but I was afraid," he said. "I'm awful scared, Billie Joe."

"Afraid of what."

"Just afraid, Billie Joe. The night. The bogeyman. Afraid. Afraid."

"It's okay. I'm not used to being held."

"How's about holding me for a few minutes before lanky comes back. I need a good hold here."

I looked at Raymond studying the shadows on the floor. He didn't seem like the same guy I met in Hank's truck. Even his expression and the way he carried himself had changed. Holding him with my naked stomach against his naked back made him shiver for a few minutes. He grabbed my arms and held them hard and close to his chest. I could only feel him crying. I tried to just be part of the warmth. It did seem to fight back my own demons. I don't know if it did anything for Raymond's.

We were lost in our hug when Kyle returned.

"These might work. They are too small for me now," he said plodding through the blankets.

"Don't you knock. Guard the outside awhile," Raymond said, sitting up as I still lay behind him.

"Sorry. Just thought you wanted . . . Sure, I'll sit outside."

"Kyle, 'thanks' is what he meant. You'll have to forgive him. His mother dropped him on his head."

"Fuck you, Billie Joe."

"Are you two really brothers."

"Shit! I'm tall, beautifully built, with red hair, and hung like a pony. He's short, skinny, and has that grungy dark hair and a face only a mother could love. What do you think?"

"I just asked. I'll wait outside for you," Kyle said, as he moved out through the blankets.

"You think a lot of me."

"Just a joke, Billie Joe. You know I think a lot of you. You saved my life. I'm just sorry I can't show you how much I like you right now. I want to do that more than anything, but I can't."

"What's to show?"

"That look on your face the other night. You know you're pretty good, but being with someone that likes it is nice. I mean the way you went at it, I knew you liked it. You're really good at what you do."

"You're only the second one I did anything to."

"This Carl. You do that to him?"

"Why do you ask questions like that. It's none of your business, and I didn't mean to do it to you. It was only because of the way you show yourself off all the time."

"You told me you were attracted to me."

"I don't even know what that means, Raymond. There's something about you I like. There's a lot about you that I hate."

"Like what?"

"Like your being an asshole to everyone. You make people really dislike you. I want to stay with Ingmar. He'll protect us, but if you're going to fuck it up, then take a hike, will you?"

"I'm sorry. I don't like getting too close to people. It usually ends up bad for me. You can't trust them. They tell you they'll do something, or that they're going to help you, and as soon as they get what they want, it's 'later' for you."

"Ingmar's not like that. He cares about people."

"Right, Billie Joe. He cares about us and what he can get out of us, and then it's 'later'. He's no different. Him and his phony truck driver doctor that probably lost his license selling drugs. Let's don't talk about it. I want to lie down. I'm tired. You can lie with me if you want. I know you didn't sleep much either."

I woke up with one of the doors shut at the back of the truck making it almost dark. It startled me at first, but I could see Kyle leaning against it talking to someone I couldn't see. A third guy sat at the corner of the open door against another pile of blankets. I put on my shoes and pants and covered Raymond up again. It seemed cooler and there were clouds where the sun had been shinning earlier. I lounged on the blankets and tried to figure out what I wanted to do.

"Come up you two. You're sleeping too much to be good. You will do some work, and Ingmar and Kyle and Raymond and Billie Joe will go to lunch. First we are folding the blankets."

"Wake up, Raymond. You are going to be working now," Ingmar said.

"What? What the fuck. I'm sleeping here. Leave me alone."

"You are getting up. You are to be working for your supper, Raymond."

"Fuck that," Raymond said, pulling the blanket up to cover his head.

"Up we go real easy," Ingmar said, as he snatched Raymond up to his feet without hardly bending.

"We are having some pants for him, Kyle?"

"Yeah! I brought these for him. He didn't seem too happy about them."

"He's being very happy. Lean on Ingmar, Raymond."

Kyle threw the pants to Ingmar and he grabbed Raymond's right leg and lifted it while placing the pants under his foot. Raymond started to fall backwards and Ingmar grabbed him with one gigantic hand.

"You're to be leaning on Ingmar and you won't be falling."

"Leave me alone."

"Yes, of course. The other leg. Lift. Okay," Ingmar said, and pulled the pants up over Raymond's hips.

"Kyle, be cutting off three feet of our rope. We'll fix Raymond right up. We'll have to feed him good so he can be keeping up your pants, Kyle."

"Shit! Got into Kyle's pants and didn't even have to work at it," Raymond said, to me and leered.

Kyle didn't seem as happy. He looked sour at Raymond. He was having the same feelings I had when I first met him. Raymond affected people that way.

"Only joking, Kyle. I don't go for the big dumb type."

Ingmar let go of Raymond and he fell flat on his back in the blankets.

"We don't be discourteous to one another. We are to be working together. We are to be happy working together. Are you understanding what Ingmar is saying, Raymond?"

"Yeah!"

"Good," Ingmar said, and reached for Raymond's arm, yanking him back out of the blankets. "Now you are to be folding the blankets. We will be needing them tomorrow. We are going to Bishop to pack a house that goes to Fresno. Not a good money maker, but work. Let me show you how to be folding, and you two will start in the back and place the blankets like this up against the wall."

Ingmar folded the blanket in thirds, and then in thirds again before piling them against the wall. He handed Raymond a blanket. He watched him as he showed him how. Raymond made a mess but did basically what Ingmar showed him. Ingmar smiled and did it again. Raymond made another mess. Ingmar repeated the process until Raymond could finally fold them so they didn't look like someone was sleeping in them. Ingmar turned to me and started to fold the blanket for me. I folded it precisely as I'd seen him do it. He smiled and patted the top of my head.

"You see why Ingmar is asking you to work for him. You learn fast. You are good boy, Billie Joe."

Kyle and Ingmar headed for the door.

"Wait a fucking minute. Let's fold some blankets back here. I ain't nobody's slave."

"No, Raymond. You be folding blankets. Kyle and Ingmar do men's work. When you do men's work, you no fold the blankets any more. Fold. We'll go to eat in an hour."

"Thanks-a Beellee Joe. You-a good boy," Raymond said in a thick Italian accent.

"I'll give them a hand Uncle Jo. I don't mind."

Kyle came back and stood beside me and started folding blankets like a house on fire. He folded three for every one I folded and five for each of Raymond's. In ten minutes we were putting a dent into the many piles spread across the floor. Kyle stayed to himself, but he kept watching my folding style . He smiled if I happened to catch his eye. It came to me that he wasn't nineteen or twenty as I'd first thought. He was almost as big as Carl, but very thin and he had a shy look in his blue eyes.

"You do good work. Ingmar's right. You pick things right up."

"Less talking and a little more work," Raymond complained.

Our piles were neatly stacked against the wall three feet high and we had three stacks. Raymond had one stack and it was falling over and the blankets weren't folded well enough for a three foot stack to stand up on its own. Kyle kept looking back over his shoulder. He dropped his blanket and headed at Raymond. Raymond was busily making another mess as Kyle took his foot and kicked the pile about ten feet into the other blankets strewn around the floor.

"What the fuck's your problem, you big dumb Swede? You're going to fold them now."

Kyle grabbed Raymond by the neck pressing his back to the wall.

"Ingmar's right. You are a useless shit! You don't want to work, and if I tell Ingmar you didn't work, you won't eat on his dime. He'll help you. He'll protect you. He'll give you work. But he don't tolerate deadbeats. You better get your ass in gear before I kick it in gear. You getting the picture here?"

I grabbed Kyle's arm as Raymond looked terrified, pressed back up against the wall.

"He doesn't mean anything, Kyle. He's just had it awful hard. People have shit all over him all his life. He doesn't know what nice people are like. Let him go. He's my friend, Kyle. Let him go, now. Please."

"You better learn you'll get a hell of a lot more with being nice than by being an asshole. I'm not a dumb Swede. I'm an American. I graduated high school at sixteen. I start Stanford in the fall. Uncle Ingmar has let me work for him so I could afford it. Who's the dumb one now, Raymond?"

"Let him go, Kyle. I know how to do the blankets. You go ahead. We'll finish up."

"I didn't mean to upset you, Billie Joe. I don't like people saying bad things about me and Ingmar. We're good people. We're honest. I don't like someone saying otherwise. I don't like him. He's trouble."

Kyle let Raymond go, and I could see him shaking as he looked at the floor, ignoring Raymond as he backed away from us and left the truck.

"Go ahead and lie down, Raymond. I'll do the work."

"Shit on you, too. I'll do my share."

"Not like that. If you aren't going to do it right, let me do it. Just lie down. I'll do it. I want to keep this job. You do what you want. That's the last time I stand up for you. You stand on your own from now on."

Raymond started grabbing blankets and folding them just as Ingmar had instructed. Each one was neat and stacked perfectly on top of the last. I went back across the truck and started on my pile again. It was less than an hour when Ingmar came back. The truck shook when he jumped onto the rear.

"Good job, Billie Joe, and Raymond. Well I'll be damned! Ingmar is pleased with you. We'll be going to the dinner now. We'll all have a good meal. We can finish these after."

"I'm not hungry. I want to lie down," Raymond said.

"He's still not feeling good," I apologized, and bit my tongue for doing it.

"He's needing to eat. Food will be making him better. I have medication from the doctor to help."

Raymond sat on the pile we slept in. Ingmar stepped forward and pulled him up into his arms like a rag doll.

"Raymond is in need of good food, but better yet he is needing good people. We are eating together Raymond. We are working together, we are eating together. We are being a family together. We can't eat unless you eat. Kyle has said you were doing a good job for me. Kyle knows. We go to eat now."

"Do we take a shit together, too," Raymond said, as Ingmar walked toward the door with Raymond pushed along in front of him.

"We are usually shitting at different times, but if you like to be shitting together, by god Ingmar will try to make you happy Raymond. If that's all it takes to put a smile on your face, by god we're going to be okay with you, Raymond."

I couldn't help but laugh as Ingmar made Raymond do exactly what he wanted him to do. Raymond couldn't complain or scowl enough to put Ingmar off. We were one big happy family.

At dinner the table was loaded with food, and we all ate to our heart's content.

"Could I have the sugar, Kyle. Please?" Raymond asked politely, looking at Kyle's face. Kyle slid the sugar across the table without handing it to him.

"Thank you, Kyle. Look, I'm sorry for acting like a jerk. It's a bad habit. I did do a good job after you left. Like Ingmar showed me. I did it right. I'm sorry."

"You boys are having troubles? Kyle, you said they were doing good job."

"Billie Joe, was doing fine. I was doing my usual. If I fuck up enough, well, people usually just leave me alone, but I can see that's not going to happen with you. I might as well do it right. You're too big to fight with. I don't want to get my ass kicked again. It's still tender. I'm happy to have the job. Thank you for this meal. It's really good."

"We are to be working together. Everyone must do his share. Ingmar has no time to force you to do what it is your job to do. Many people would be happy for the job. Tomorrow you help Kyle move furniture. Billie Joe gets to handle the blankets. With this you can not play the games. You are wanting the job, by god you got the job. We are now working together."

"Together," Raymond said.

Kyle glared and did not smile, and seemed to be still holding onto his anger. His long, baleful look in Raymond's direction was thoughtful.

Chapter 10

Duke Of Earl

Traveling with a moving van was a different kind of life. My adventures had started when I hitched out of Seattle, and now I found myself in California, where I wanted to be. The work with Ingmar and Kyle wasn't hard and they treated me well. The main thing, however, was that I could express my inner self. It wasn't enough to have realized I was gay. I needed more. I needed to gain some acceptance and understanding about what it meant, beyond the obvious. I couldn't have done that by hanging around the house in Minnesota. I had taken my show on the road, and was prepared to pay the consequences when I returned.

The mornings always started with coffee, and this morning was no different. The thermos was full and Ingmar was pouring me a cup before I got completely off the truck. I felt as though I'd known this man for years. Spending twenty-four hours a day with people can do that, but Ingmar was like a father. I wondered what it would be like having such an understanding man for a parent. But he was far too young to be my father.

"They coming?"

"In awhile, I think."

"It's okay. We'll be done here in couple of hours. I should have left them sleep. They worked hard yesterday."

"I don't think sleeping is what they are doing."

"Created a monster, did I?"

"I don't know about that, but it seems like they like each other."

"I'm sorry if you are left out, Billie."

"Oh, not to worry. I've managed. I'm glad to see them happy. They really like each other. It's pretty neat. And I feel really good this morning!"

"Good! You look happy." Ingmar smiled, and I felt his goodness reaching out to me.

"Why are you so easy about this? I mean my parents would be crapping themselves. Calling mental institutions if they caught me . . . well, you get the idea."

"We must be living and let living. Kyle is smarter than anyone I know. He deserves to have happiness in whatever way he finds it. It is good he is happy. He hurts no one."

"It's just that you aren't like most adults."

"I'm not like most American adults. I told you this is looked at different in Europe. Having your first sexual experience with other boys is not unusual for boys there. No one pays much attention. It's human nature to want to explore what you feel. Feelings are difficult to force to do something because people say it is what you are to do. I don't know about this, and feel it isn't up to me to make anyone be any particular way. Happiness is more important than conforming. I'm not understanding this American need to make everyone alike."

"I wish the people at my house felt that way."

"Have you given them a chance?"

"Are you kidding? My old man thinks queers should be strung up. He hates them. Said one tried to grab him in a bathroom when he was a boy. In his eyes, they are all perverts and deviates."

"Maybe he doesn't hate so much; he sees his son. Maybe some of the same feelings once scared this man that became your father."

"No way. He'd kick my ass and pack my bag. I've got to find another way. I know what happens when you live with people that can't handle this."

"You'll never go home?"

"I guess for school."

"What do you say then."

"I want to tell them. I don't want to lie. If I tell them, I want another plan. If I can't stay there, I want to know people where I can go."

"You can always stay with Ingmar. I may not be gay, but Ingmar will make a home for you any time you are wanting it. It may move a lot, but at least it is a safe place for you to be."

"I'm glad, and I thank you from my heart. But you know I'm going to leave soon."

"I know this. I know this by the far away look in the eye of Billie Joe. You are a good worker, but you are thinking of something somewhere else."

"I want to find the gay community in San Francisco. If I find people there, I can go back there if my parents toss me out after they know about me."

"Why not go back? Take your medicine. Stay until you are old enough to be on the road?"

"Can't."

"Won't."

"Take your choice. I need an option. I can't live a lie any longer. My feelings have been too strong. At twelve I knew. Now I've found someone that makes me know I'll always be gay. I need more than waiting and hiding what I am. I can't do it any longer. I'd rather die."

"You talk nonsense. You haven't lived. Rather die? You have maybe a few years to do what your parents want you to do. Then you have maybe seventy years to play. Go home. I'll pay the way for you."

I hugged Ingmar. My face fit right into the lower part of his chest. One big hand rested on my head and the other on my back. I couldn't reach around him, but I felt like he was a good friend.

"I know you mean well. I can't give you a reason you'll understand. I can't go home yet."

"Is not for me to say. I say what I think. Ingmar helps you. You must make your own decisions."

Kyle came to the doorway in his bare feet and without a shirt. His chest was dripping with sweat. He smiled the most delightful smile.

"We ready to go to work, Uncle Jo?"

"Take your time, Kyle. We have plenty of time. Maybe two hours will finish it up. You and Raymond take your time. We'll save you coffee. I have Dunkin Donuts in the front."

"Holding out on me. Give me coffee and don't offer me donuts," I complained in mock irritation.

"Didn't want them all gone before the men got up."

"Oh! They're men. What am I, chopped liver?"

"You are my very wise and very mixed up little boy. You're my Billie."

"I don't feel so wise. A gay guy I knew committed suicide. Since I was six years old I knew him. We built a tree house, rode bikes. He was my best friend. He was gay and I didn't even know that. He left a note saying he didn't want to live defective. Defective! He was fucking sixteen, Ingmar, just a little older than me. Why would he write that? Why didn't he tell someone? Why didn't he tell me?"

"Did you tell him?"

I looked at him. The tears had already started to flow. I didn't intend to tell him about Ralphie. I didn't talk about him. He was a non-person to me now, but it just rolled out.

"You see why I'm saying you must let people be what they are. This Ralph should not be dead. He should be happy, smiling, doing the skateboarding or making up new dives off high boards. People made him die. They cut him off from these feelings he had, and then they showed him he was bad for feeling the thing it is he feels. We don't make up these things, Billie. These are parts of us. As I do like the woman you do like the man. One is superior to the other only because of the numbers. Whenever one group is stronger they are dominating you. Man is an evil animal when he wants to crush those lesser, weaker. You must promise me to talk to someone before you think of such things. This Ralph did not talk to you because he was scared. Had he not been made scared, he would be living. That's the power of the majority of peoples. They are making the minority think they are less, when many times they are actually more loving, more giving, more forgiving. Many times the less is the more, Billie."

"You think so?"

"I'm thinking different is sometimes better. Different gives you more things for the growth. Different doesn't make you so superior as it does make you wise. Like you, my little friend, wise beyond your years, and willing to risk your life to find the answer that is right for you. You are in a little boy's body, but you have much to teach bigger folks."

I was holding onto Ingmar, hugging him. Being thankful for someone that understood something about what I felt. He didn't understand, but his words somehow made a difference. His attempt at understanding, and his acceptance gave me some peace of mind. It did make me feel stronger.

I looked back and Kyle was gone. We went up front and ate donuts. Ingmar was right, I would have finished them off if he hadn't stopped me. Kyle came up to where we were about half an hour later. We gave him the donuts and he took them back with a cup of coffee.

It didn't take two hours to finish up. The entire time we worked, Raymond and Kyle kept staring at each other. Every time they went back in the house for more boxes, Kyle had his arm around Raymond. Ingmar shook his head a couple of times. He didn't seem angry, just confused.

We all sat up front as we drove up route 101. Raymond sat on Kyle's lap, and I sat half in and half out of the bunk. Laughing and joking was fun. Watching Raymond and Kyle touch each other was better. You could see what was happening between them. Ingmar drove, and laughed and joked, and paid little attention to the closeness of the two boys in the other seat.

I didn't want to leave, but it was time. I still had a mission. Sitting around truck stops wasn't quite enough to take away my need to find a support group that might save me the pain other gay youths knew after coming out to their parents.

I slept in the front seat that night with Ingmar purring above me. I said nothing to Kyle or Raymond. I woke Ingmar at first light.

"What is it, Billie. You cold?"

"I wanted to say good-bye, and thank you."

"You are leaving already? Let me pay you."

"You've fed me. Protected me. Given me a place to heal. You don't owe me anything."

"A man works for Ingmar, a man gets paid."

I stuffed the fifty dollars down into my other sock. I was carrying more money than I'd ever had at one time before. I hadn't expected to make my fortune hitch hiking around California! It was odd that my money was growing instead of shrinking. Socks were a good investment it seems.

The first ride took me ten miles. I stopped and had morning coffee. I wasn't hungry. My stomach growled, but it wasn't about to tolerate food. Some of the terror that had chased me into California came back upon me. I wanted to run back to Ingmar. I left the small diner and threw out my thumb. The second ride was a middle-aged woman. She took me two miles. I stood as the sun peeked up over a high row of hills to the east. It was warm on my face. The next car stopped still on the road. Other cars went out around it blowing their horns. The boy was young, but not as young as I. His hair was platinum blond. I tried to see if it was his or came from some bottle at his house.

"I'm Earl," he said.

"Billie Joe."

"Where are you going?"

"San Francisco. Where are you going?"

"Salinas."

I laughed to myself as I watched the green and brown grass on the steep hills on my right, dotted with squatty trees. These were the first real trees I'd seen in California since leaving the northern part of the state. I preferred trees to the endless, grassy plains.

"Pretty young to be hitching."

"I guess."

"How old are you?" he asked slick as you please.

My mouth went into gear before I could employ my brain, “Sixteen,” I blurted, but I’d thought about it enough to recover smoothly as I took an interest in the scenery. “In August I’m sixteen.”

“You sure you’re almost sixteen?” Earl quizzed, being young enough to know the ploys.

"Almost. Two months I'll be sixteen. August."

"What's in San Francisco?"

"I don't know. That’s why I’m going."

"Let me get this straight. You're fifteen almost sixteen. Going to San Francisco, but you don't know anyone in San Francisco."

"I didn't say that."

"Do you know anyone there?"

"No. I'll meet someone. You writing a book?" I said, sounding like Raymond and cringing.

Earl kept looking at me. He wasn't much of a driver as the front right tire kept going off the road. Luckily for us he was only going forty. That wasn't so lucky for the folks that kept coming up behind him and blowing their horns.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"You look younger."

"My curse."

I studied him. He had intense blue eyes. His skin was pure white, but not pale like Raymond's. His arms were without even a trace of hair. His hands were thin and small. He was not much larger than me. He might have been five-six and a hundred and ten pounds. His face didn't have a blemish. I'd never seen a guy with skin so pure. I could see him looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I could see where he looked most often. That's when the front tire would go off onto the shoulder.

"If you want to check me out, stop. I think it would be safer," I said in Raymond's voice.

"You little shit. You sound like you've been around."

"Enough," I said, having learned from the best.

"You're cute, but I ain't losing no sleep over you."

"Good! Maybe we can drive on the highway than."

"You want to get out. I can always stop."

"I'd prefer to go to San Francisco."

"You gay, Billie Joe?"

"Didn't say that," I said, not sure of the right answer. He looked harmless but I wasn’t trusting anyone that drove like he did.

"Not in so many words, but you've been around someone gay."

"Yeah! Me I guess. I just want a ride to San Francisco."

"For someone your age, San Francisco isn't where you want to be. The streets are mean."

"Where do I want to go?"

"My house."

"Do gay guys ever grow up to think of something else."

"You are thinking about sex. Not me. I said come to my house. You'll be safe there. You won't be safe in San Francisco. Some big ugly guy in a leather suit will snatch your ass off the street in about twenty minutes. You'll be strapped up to some board and fucked for a few weeks until he gets tired of you. Then if you're lucky, he'll just toss you back out on the street. You won't look as nice then."

"It's not like that. I've heard about San Francisco."

"I've lived there. I know the guy in the leather suit. Tell you what. I'm going into The City on Friday. I always go on Friday. You stay with me until then. I'll take you in and introduce you to some nice people I know with a house there. At least you'll have a safe place to start."

"That would be cool," I said.

"You a thief?"

"No."

"Hustler?"

"Not even!"

"You hungry?"

"Yes."

"Great. I always eat at John's Diner. It's great food. Loads for your money."

"Where you coming from?"

"Santa Barbara."

"What's in Santa Barbara?"

"My mother."

"Where's your dad?"

"Salinas."

"You don't live with him."

"No. I have my own place. Have for two years. They divorced."

We ate at John's. I had ham and eggs and biscuits with red eye gravy. I drank coffee and enjoyed the flavor as Earl and I made small talk. He'd known he was gay at thirteen. He'd moved into San Francisco when he was just fifteen. He'd managed successfully for almost a year. He was beaten and raped by two guys in a van. He came back to Salinas and moved into a house his grandparents left him. He lived off a small trust fund they also left for him. He was an artist and a musician. I was surprised at how sensitive he seemed. He talked like he'd learned a lot from his experiences.

As soon as we got to the house he took me to the room where he worked. There was a piano on one wall, and a guitar propped against it. Paintings covered every wall, and only a large window and the door broke up the display. The pictures ranged from crude finger paintings to lavish scenes with rich flowing colors. Earl took me through the room from his first painting at age six, to the one he was working on currently. It was propped up in the middle of the room on an easel and covered by a cloth he didn't remove.

"I could use a shower. If it isn't too much trouble," I said.

"No. Make yourself at home. Bathroom's the third door down from this one. I'll show you where you can sleep. I just ask you don't mess with anything. Most of the stuff is my grandparents'. They're dead, but I still respect what they left behind. A lot of things from the old country."

"What country?"

"Germany."

"You're German?"

"German/Irish. My mother was Irish. That's where I get the skin. Irish have delicate skin."

He showed me to the shower, and I left my bag at the door. I decided to wear the sweat pants Raymond couldn't keep up. I'd use my belt to secure them. The water felt good against my skin. I'd started to smell from the work and the play over the past few days. When I stepped from the shower Earl stood in the now open door. He looked me up and down. Mostly down. He handed me a towel and a smile.

"Here. This one is clean. I took the others. They were soiled. I have a washer and dryer if you want to wash your clothes. I have some old things that will fit you if you want something clean."

"Yes," I said, dripping on the tile floor.

"I'll get you some shorts and a Tee."

I dried myself and didn't bother to shut the door. He seemed harmless, and even at nineteen was no physical threat to me. There was no reason for me to fear him.

The shorts were nylon and had that nylon support inside that keeps you from falling out the bottom, but you kinda flow free inside them. They actually felt good against my best parts. The T-shirt was marked with a San Francisco Forty Niner emblem. It looked almost new. The red color was a bit much, but the shorts and shirt matched.

"Fits you perfect," he said when I came out of the bathroom.

He once more checked me out. I felt almost naked with the way I swung inside the shorts. It seemed to be to Earl's liking. He made a point of letting me pass in front of him so he could check out the other side of his shorts.

"You're built for those shorts. They never fit me like that."

"Thanks. I think."

"I appreciate nice things, Billie Joe. I'm not after your body."

We went to the living room where I sat pulling out all my dirty clothes. He gathered them up and took them into the basement to be washed. I curled up in a big old chair and brought out my notebook and started to add to a letter to Carl. Earl came back in and sat on the big wide arm of the chair where I sat. He was now also wearing a pair of shorts. His leg pressed against my arm. The lower portion of his leg was covered with silken hairs that were the color of the hair on his head, maybe even lighter. His thigh had no hair on it at all. He leaned toward me and checked my notebook.

"You a writer?'

"No. Just a letter."

"Boy friend?"

I looked up at Earl and decided he was okay. I didn't want to lie or be dishonest.

"Yes."

I reached into my bag and brought out the picture of Carl.

"Lord Jesus have mercy on my unworthy heart. This is your boy friend?"

"Yes."

"Where did you meet him?"

"On a bus to Seattle."

"Which bus. I want details. Does he have any brothers? Heavens! Does he have a dog even."

" Get a grip on it. "

"Don't mind me. I've dreamed of lesser men than that. I'd give my right testicle to get those little green pants off of him."

"I had a similar thought. Isn't he the most beautiful thing."

"Rugged. Handsome. Big. Yes. Beautiful? I'm not sure about that."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do. You are a lucky guy to have found such a handsome man. Next you're going to tell me he's sixteen too, right?"

"Seventeen."

"You're kidding me. He's just a kid?"

"No. He's all man."

Earl watched me put down the words. He stretched his arm over the back of the chair. He let it rest next to the back of my head. His leg moved up and down my arm as I wrote. Later he got up, bringing me back a soda without speaking. He disappeared after I finished the second page. I told Carl about what was going on, leaving out the details that would just upset him. I copied the address off his letter, and got it ready to go into the mail.

I sat watching out some big double windows onto a field with brown grass blowing in the breeze. The day was bright, and the sky blue. I tried to picture the Pacific Ocean. I envisioned it not too far off in the distance. My mind wandered, lulled on by the sounds of violins and piano I could hear coming from deep inside the house. It was a pleasant music, though I'd never been fond of such relaxing tones.

I decided to go in search of Earl, who had been absent now for most of an hour. I checked the basement but the light was out. The kitchen stood empty and shadowed. I went to the door of his work room, and there he stood at his easel. His naked ass curved down in a perfect arc. It was the right size for someone of his stature. The skin was as pure as the skin on his flawless face. His legs were devoid of hair except for the silk threads I could hardly see from the rear. His arm moved boldly from pallet to canvas and back. He seemed to be lost inside his picture as he dashed, dotted, and brushed his way around. The music was much louder, and his body swayed to the symphony. His hand worked to the beat.

The lower front part of his body was covered with an apron. It was tied at the middle of his back just above the smooth crack of his ass. His ass had large dimples in each cheek. His legs were straight and without much muscle mass. His back was narrow from waist to shoulders, and they gave no bulk to his body.

I could feel the nylon against me, and my first reaction was to place my hand over myself so if he turned he couldn't see. Touching it was only an invitation, and I was caught between hiding it and leaving when he turned to see me moving myself to the side.

"I thought I felt something. You have penetrating eyes. You must not be too upset by my nudity. I don't wear clothing in the house. Only with a guest do I pretend to be modest. I need the freedom to create. Clothes interrupt the flow, block the images that come to my brain. I must let it flow freely."

"Why the apron?"

"Some paint is hard to discourage. After dipping my wick in my painting a few times, I decided on a compromise between nudity and prudence."

"Does it get that big?"

"Heaven's no. I'm a light weight, Billie Joe."

He turned and lifted his apron to reveal a perfectly cut penis hanging down from cock hair the color of summer straw. His sack was as hairless as the rest of him. He was not large or small from the experience I'd had looking for such detail. He dropped the apron and turned his back as he dabbed more paint and stood back to watch.

"Nudity makes you nervous?"

"Not exactly nervous."

"You saying my ass makes you horny?"

"Something like that."

"Is that what you're trying to hide?"

"Yeah."

"I've not decided about you yet, Billie Joe. I mean you are nice, but so young. I would like you to sleep in my bed tonight. You can sleep in the guest room. I think we would have fun sleeping together."

"You say what's on your mind?"

"It's better than hinting around and ending up with your own hand as your love life."

"You don't look like you should have any trouble attracting a love life."

"Billie Joe! You romantic. I never pictured you as a flatterer."

"It wasn't meant to be flattery. You are handsome. Almost pretty. Your skin is perfect."

"Those German/Irish genes. I make a nice picture, but love isn't something I've found a way to cultivate. Most lovers tire of me so quickly. I'm a demanding person. I need certain things. I need my painting and my music. Most people I bore. I spend a lot of time in introspection. It's a turn off."

"That's thinking of yourself?"

"Very good, Billie Joe. You have a brain. Introspection is looking within yourself. It's not something our culture encourages. We are taught to be stimulated by external forces while ignoring and abusing what is inside of us."

"I don't understand."

"It's like being gay. For some it is a curse. For others it is wonderful. I'm trying to find out what it is and what it means for me. Beside the obvious. We have sex with the same sex, but what makes us tick, and why has history been so cruel to homosexuals? In World War Two we were gassed right beside the Jews."

"We what?"

"We were gassed."

"They killed homosexuals too?"

"Homosexuals, Gypsies, disabled, mentally ill. The German's were equal opportunity exterminators. My ancestors you see. They had no more success with us than the roach. We are a product of biology. No matter if you kill all of us in one generation. The next generation we are back. Biology refuses to be denied."

"Why do they say it's so bad to be homosexual? Gay. I don't like 'homosexual'."

"Because they aren't."

"They who?"

"The people that run the big show. They take the wealth. They run the country. They exploit those that can be exploited. They promote what they feel and think at the expense of what anyone else feels or thinks. That's what power and government is about. It is oppression. Force your way onto everyone. If you are powerful enough, like Hitler, you just kill off those you feel are inferior. You create an atmosphere where everyone else wants to kill them too. You make them into monsters so it is easy to kill them. Gay people. Lesbians. We've always been the monsters. Like the Jew, we are easy to hate."

"I never thought of it like that. You're saying it isn't going to change."

"No. These same men are pretty clever. The world population is exploding. We'll soon not be able to feed all the people. Now we can feed them, we just choose to let a lot of them starve so we can have an extra color television or third car. When these men realize the population is going to destroy the planet, I imagine they might encourage homosexuality. Sorry! Gayness. They'll either try to encourage it so they can have more of the pie, or they'll decide Hitler was right, and we should go. That's about it. Not a great future, but some hope in there some place."

"I think I'd go for being encouraged. Hitler killed the gays?"

"Yes he did. Hitler killed anyone he felt to be a liability. If he'd won the war, we'd be dead now instead of standing here looking at each other's bodies, wondering."

"I'm not wondering."

"The bulge in your hand tells me you are wondering what it would be like. That doesn't mean we explore what it would be like. That means there is a possibility we might. That's good enough for me. You're okay. I think I'd like exploring with you."

"I don't know right now. I mean you're cool. I wouldn't mind, but I don't know if I wouldn't mind because I'm horny or because I really like you. I don't know how I could really like you in a few hours. That's what confuses me. Why don't we act like men and women? I mean why not date, and get to know each other, and then do it? Like we really cared for each other."

"Plenty of men and women do just as we do. Slam, bam, and on to the next. Many of us are caught in pretty bad situations. We don't dare come out. We keep the secret and hope for relief. Then when it comes time to do it, we tend to get it over with and move on. We're infused with fear and shame, so we carry that into our beds and we run out of the door afterwards."

"I don't want it to be that way. I want to be with people I can be myself around. I don't want to hop from bed to bed like you guys do."

"My last hop was eight months ago. He lived here for four months. I don't look for it."

"Well I've heard about all the fooling around that goes on."

"You hear what you are supposed to hear. That's what is said about us. You don't see us most of the time. We are waiting tables, going to school, brokering stocks, treating people in hospitals. You just don't know where we are. When we act out sexually, that's when they're waiting to say: 'See what I told you? Sex, Sex, Sex! They are perverts.' They say nothing about the ninety-nine percent of the time we're engaged otherwise because then we become invisible. Our Curse. If we were born with pink triangles in the center of our foreheads, we'd not tolerate letting each other be beaten and abused. We would end the discrimination pretty damn quick! But we can hide, and we do. That's our curse. Sex is a small portion of our lives, just as it is for them, but it is what's used to exclude us."

"I guess you are right. I've been gay for years but just now had sex for the first time. I mean I like it and think about it all the time, but I work and do stuff that has nothing to do with my sex life. If I go to San Francisco, will sex be all I find there?"

"No. I'll introduce you to John and Dennie. They're fiftyish lovers. They've been together twenty-five years. They took me in after I was raped. They talked me into going home. They never touched me. It was my safe house. They're nice old guys."

"I thought old gay guys were dirty old men."

"They can be. They still would like to have a sex life, but you've got to work harder to make it happen when you're fifty. It's the beauty thing. Our culture thrives on beauty. All the handsome guys make out all they want. The homely guys pick up the crumbs. No matter what's inside them. No matter what they have to offer, they're discarded because they aren't a nine or a ten. We've bought into the youth and beauty thing. Sex is the same with an older guy as it is with a younger guy. Better. They are more interested in satisfying you. Young guys mainly want to get satisfied. They are also better able to help out young guys. They also get used a lot and fucked over often because they're old. It's not always like that. I'm just telling you what it is like when you are in town. You'd do great, but there will be people wanting you that can't have you, and then you run into trouble. Some people take what they want. You're too young to be letting it hang out around people like that."

"Being gay wasn't what I wanted to be. The more I hear, the more I don't want to be gay. If it was a choice, I'd choose being like everyone else!"

Earl turned and faced me, placing the brush and the pallet on his easel. His chest was without form. It was not defined, though two quarter-sized nipples were in their proper place. His shoulders were no more impressive in the front. The apron hung a few inches below his belly button. It was as smooth as the rest of him. He walked toward me as I leaned on the door jamb. When he got to where I stood he leaned forward and placed his lips on mine. He put his arms around me and increased the pressure of his kiss. He pressed the front of his apron into the front of my shorts. Our bulges rubbed together as I hugged him and returned the kiss. He placed his hands on my hips and backed up one step and looked into my eyes.

"You see, Billie Joe? You have no choice. I may not have been sure before that you were sure, but I am now. You are gay as a goose, and I'm afraid that is the way you will always be."

"I know that."

"I didn't know it. I don't want to be corrupting someone as young as you. It's not my intention. It isn't what I need."

"Why after only a few hours can I let you do that? It confuses me. It shouldn't be that easy."

"Lonely. Alone. Empty. You need to feel like you are a part of something. Most of us feel it Billie Joe, and it isn't a sin. We have to hide from people we love. That creates the need to be held and to be loved in the time when we are real. We know when our families hold us that they don't know what we are. It lessens the potency of the hug or touch. Always knowing they don't know what we really are, we live a lie, and that sets us up to jump at each chance we have to live the truth."

Earl's voice became intense.

"To be touched in real time. To know we are being touched and the person touching knows what we feel, and knows what we are, and still touches us!"

Earl dropped his apron at his feet. I traced it up to his erection standing up at a forty five degree angle. I looked into his dark, velvet-blue eyes. They had black rings around the irises. He was hugging me before I realized he was moving toward me. His hands went under the rear of my nylon shorts and he fingered my crack as the kiss lingered. I held his naked skin in my arms and kissed him back while tracing the contour of his back and ass. My fingers danced inside his crack as he ground his hips into me and slipped my shorts down so our best parts could move together to feel the incredible heat our bodies were generating. His lips were thin, but very capable. I didn't feel anything but lust. It wasn't like with Carl, and not even like with Raymond. I wasn't really attracted to him, and yet I wanted him. I wanted to know what it was like with him. I wanted to lose myself inside of him. I wanted to be part of him. I wanted to fill him with my love, and yet I knew I had no love to give him.