Ganymede

69

Chapters 7-10a

Chapter 7

Now, I should have figured that Ty was tired just by looking at him. He made it out to the car, but by the time he was reached his side, he was dragging his feet. It was like someone had let the air out of his tires. I helped him into his seat and squatted down next to the open door to fasten his seat belt. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open more than a fraction, and even then they kept closing as he began to shut down for the night.

Once the seat belt clicked, I stayed on my haunches, just watching him. He tried to smile, but even that ended in a sleepy yawn. His lips were enticing. I don't think I had ever seen lips that were more kissable, not even on the track babes with their exaggerated lipstick. My face came nearer and nearer to his. He had a warm breath. I thought I detected a hint of chicken and beer. I wanted to kiss him more than I could stand. The parking lot was so close to being empty that no one would see, and he was so close to falling asleep that he probably wouldn't even notice if I kissed him very lightly.

However, I stood up. My legs were unsteady and it was all I could do to make my way around to the other side of the car, open the door and slip down into my seat. I drove slowly because by then Ty was asleep. Fortunately, it was not very far to the motel, at most a mile [1½ km] or so. Every few seconds I glanced sideways. Over just a few hours my life had changed dramatically, and the reason was sitting right beside me. There were probably other boys who were better looking, but I didn't know them and I couldn't remember seeing any who came close to being compared with him.

I pulled up right in front of my room and turned the engine off. I let out a deep sigh as I gazed at him. This wonderful boy was mine forever, well not forever but until the end of summer. I had the paper in my hip pocket to prove it. Over the last few hours I showered with him, had dinner with him, and I had just bought him some new clothes. That proved something. What had happened on the bed also proved something, but I wasn't quite sure what. He kept saying he wasn't gay, yet there was something about him that said otherwise, at least to me, and I think to Bobbie as well. I didn't know what it was. I did know that he was into having fun and that he wasn't afraid of sex games just so long as they did not go into his 'forbidden' territory.

I had to carry both him and Bandit from the car into the motel room. He was not very heavy. In fact, he was surprisingly light. One of his arms slipped around my neck, the other hand clutched Bandit, and his legs came up around my thighs and locked behind my back. His head dropped back down and nuzzled into my shoulder so that his lips touched my bare neck. I could feel his lips, soft, hot, wet, almost as if he was kissing me in his own uncertain way. He had a very warm breath.

I placed him down on my bed. Immediately, he hugged Bandit into a tighter embrace, that if the bear had not been stuffed, might have suffocated it in his armpit. I carefully straightened his legs out and stood up and stretched my back. I sighed. He was beautiful. And cute too, with his blond rat's tail draped over the white of the pillow. Under the bed lamp, his skin was even a darker brown, and the summer still had a long way to go. He would be the color of Louisiana soil when he went back to school.

I could not leave him there to sleep with his dirty shoes on so I sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully untied his frayed gray laces. I was glad that we had bought him some new shoes. The shoes he was wearing were about ready to die and had an unpleasant smell. I discarded them on the floor and then eased off his socks. It was only then, when I looked down at his small bare feet that I realized that a boy's feet, so often seen and so seldom appreciated, were really as sexy as any other part of his body. Ty's feet were perfect, if a little smelly. I stroked the heel of one foot with my fingertip and he flinched slightly. My fingers crept along the bare smooth sole until I reached his toes. His toes were tiny, both soft and bony. Intuitively, I lowered my head. I kissed his ankle first, not daring to do anything more than that. Perhaps Ty would not let me kiss him on the lips, but I could pay homage in other ways. My mouth opened and came closer to his toes. I kissed them first, as tenderly as I had ever kissed anything before. His foot flinched again and tried to pull away slightly. I took a firmer grasp. Then, with my mouth open, I started to suck on his toes. Tiny, wet, wriggly, boy-toes. Wriggly?

"Yer weird," he murmured.

"Yeah, I am. I'm hungry."

He giggled softly. He was awake. "It tickles."

"Sorry."

"'s okay. Take my clothes off if ya wan'."

I could take his clothes off if I wanted? Whoopee! I almost shouted it out aloud. My dreams were coming true.

"Ya don't mind?" I asked nervously.

He didn't answer for a moment. "Ya seen what I got already so it don't matter if ya see it again."

I grinned and gazed at him. He yawned, mouth wide open to the back of his throat.

"Ya sure ya don't mind, Ace?"

"I ain't doin' nuthin' tonight, but ah don't mind sleepin' naked with ya, if ya want to that is?" he added sleepily.

I shifted up the bed so that I sat beside him and cautiously began to unfasten the clasp of his shorts. Ty closed his eyes again and resumed his dreamy look with the slightest hint of a smile on his face. The zipper was almost undone because it had been hurriedly closed in the changing room before we rushed to the checkout counter. I tugged it down the rest of the way. Immediately, Ty's hips lifted up so that there was an inch or so of clearance under his buttocks.

With the front of his shorts open, I could see bare brown skin, the little limp finger of a his penis and the silky loose folds of his scrotum.

"What happened to yer undies?" I asked.

"Don't know…" he mumbled. "Guess I left 'em in the store."

I was not about to say 'great, now you don't have any underpants'. The idea of him going around without underpants that had been so enjoyable when I considered buying him the swimming shorts, was now very real. I tugged his ragged faded denim shorts downward, all the way to his feet. His toes were still wet with saliva. Now, I ready to take off his shirt, my shirt, the shirt that he had purchased just for me. Sure, it had oil spots on it, but there was my number '69' and my name Terry Atkins as bold as could be. I had a feeling that this shirt meant that he belonged me. I made a mental note, for what it was worth, to get a few more for him to wear. He was my very best fan after all.

Taking off his shorts was one thing because he was prepared to help me by lifting his butt up off the bed. Taking off his tee-shirt was a different matter entirely. Ty pretended to be asleep. I had to lean over him to pull the shirt up to his armpits, then slide my hand under his lean smooth back to lift his shoulders and head up. If he was asleep, his head would have lolled back onto the pillow. It didn't. I carefully pulled each of his thin brown arms through the shirt sleeves and then worked the neck opening past his head. He was naked. I was holding a beautiful naked warm boy in my arms. I stayed, merely holding him, gazing at his smooth brow, his lidded eyes, his perfectly shaped, very kissable lips. What would I have given for just one brief kiss?

Without warning, his arms moved around me, behind my neck, pulling me down until our chests were pressed together. He was hugging me. His face was next to mine. There was no way that I could kiss him. He had a hot moist breath. Then, all too soon it was over and his arms relaxed and dropped down. I sat up again. I brushed my hand over his forehead and gently stroked his cheek.

"I gotta go lock up the car and talk to Bobbie 'bout the change in plans," I explained.

"No," Ty whined. His arms started to lift up again to hold me.

"You'll be okay. It'll just be a coupla minutes, I promise."

"Don't wanna stay by myself."

"I won't be gone long. Ya got Bandit to keep ya company. Just go to sleep."

"Terry?"

"Yeah, Ace."

"Thanks. Okay?"

"Okay. G'night Beautiful."

I called him 'Beautiful' and he did not seem to mind. He was asleep. I left the door open a few inches and hurried down to the next room. Bobbie was still awake. He wasn't surprised when I knocked on the door.

"Yo, Terry! Ya need some more rubbers already?" he chuckled.

For a couple of seconds I was not at all sure of what I should say. I stared at him. He was dressed in boxers with cartoon figures. On a man who was as big as Bobbie, the boxers looked very weird. I could imagine Ty's reaction. He would laugh until he cried. It was all I could do not to laugh.

"No." I looked down. "I took him back home, Bobbie."

"Oh? Too bad. He's a real cutie pie," Bobbie smirked. "I figured maybe you and he would… you know stay all night and get to be friends."

"Um… well… he's in my room again," I said awkwardly.

"Oooh," Bobbie teased. "So you do need some more rubbers then, Boss?"

"It ain't like that, Bobbie. Damn! Bobbie, he lives in a fuckin' dump, right next to a sewer. His mom's gone off so he lives with his gran. She's a drunk. I think she beats him."

"That sounds 'bout right," Bobbie said dryly.

"What's that mean?"

"Kids like him, they're always torn up inside 'cause they don't get loved at home. That boy needs a lot of lovin'."

"Yeah, I guess. Bobbie, I don't know what got into me. I guess seein' where he lived 'n all. I asked her if he could come with us fer the summer."

"Cool," Bobbie said. "And? What did she say?"

"She said it was okay," I replied. Bobbie smiled at me knowingly. "It ain't like that Bobbie," I said flatly.

"Damn straight it ain't. It never is. He's just a god-damn gorgeous boy who's comin' into heat and yer just takin' care of him. Fuckin' his beautiful boy-butt ain't on the cards, right? Likin' guys ain't wrong in my book, Terry."

I tried to shrug it off. Bobbie seemed to know exactly what I was thinking. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. I glanced behind him. The lamp was on next to the bed. Only one bed was rumpled and the covers drawn back. Trevor waved at me listlessly. I swallowed. Bobbie and Trevor? It was a bit like Rocky and Bullwinkle.

"Bobbie…" I began awkwardly. "It ain't none of yer business."

Bobbie smiled and winked. "Ya drove like a bat out of hell today, Terry. It don't take a shit load of sense to figure out why. Ya need that boy around to go fast."

"Fer good luck? I was thinkin' that too," I said with relief.

"Good luck? Hell no! Fer fun. Fer gettin' yer rocks off. Fer havin' a reason to win."

I smiled. I liked the sound of what he said. Fun, sex, and winning races. How much more could there be to the good life? I could settle for two out of three.

"Listen, Bobbie. When I picked him up, he showed me this gokart he's been workin' on."

"Tha Olimpic with the blown Stinger? Yeah, he told me all 'bout it, Terry. It's a great combo!"

"You know karts?"

"Do I know karts? I fuckin' grew up in karts. What Ty's got is hot, let me tell you. Between me and Trevor, we could make that into one hell of a screamer. That Stinger is a real brute."

"Well, I promised I'd pick up the kart tomorrow for him," I said hopefully. "Ya reckon it could go in the truck?"

"We'll find a place even if we gotta through out some of yer crappy old tires. The only thing is me and Trevor was planning on gettin' an early start back to Asheville. Ya reckon ya could get yer butt outta bed by six-thirty?"

"Reckon I could. The truck oughta make it back most of the way to the trailer. I checked it out on the way home. We'll have to carry his stuff about a hundred yards I figure."

"That ain't no problem. Hell, I'd carry Ty's stuff a couple of miles if he asked me."

"What if I asked ya?"

"No fuckin' way." Bobbie laughed. He glanced over his shoulder. "Well, I better get back to bed before his ass gets tightened up again. I know you ain't fucked him yet, but when ya do, you're gonna find out what tight really means, Terry."

"It ain't like that," I repeated calmly. "He's a sweet kid, Bobbie."

"And he's got a sweet little ass." Bobbie smirked. "I figure he'll last maybe a month, but no longer than that."

"Yeah, maybe in yer dreams but not in mine. Hey, I gone one more favor to ask?"

"Okay. Ya want some Vaseline?" Bobbie taunted.

"Vaseline?… Jesus, you gotta one track mind, don't ya Bobbie? It ain't gonna happen in my lifetime," I rebuked. "'sides, Ty done told me he's already got himself some pussy so I don't reckon he's tha kind to chase dick."

"Don't fuckin' bet on it. He told me the same thing, Terry. He probably did get his dick up a pussy a coupla times, but take my word fer it, he ain't too hot on it now."

"Huh? Sounds ta me like you got him all figured out?"

"Nope. I just know tha type. So what is it ya want?"

"Oh that! yeah, I was gonna ask if ya had a spare tee, one of them '69' shirts?"

"Fer you?"

"No way! Fer Ty."

"Hell, if that skinny little brat wore one a' mine, it'd look like a fuckin' dress. Hang on a second." Bobbie turned around. "Hey, Trev, ya got one 'a them '69' shirts?"

"What for?" Trevor asked from the bed.

"Terry wants it fer tha babe."

"Sure. I got a new one in my suitcase. It's right on top. You want me to get it for you?"

"Na! I'll find it," Bobbie answered.

He moved away from blocking the door, allowing me to look inside. The room looked like a riot zone. There were clothes on both the beds, on the floor, even a pair of white underpants on the bathroom door knob. There were empty cans of beer next to the bed, on the floor, and stacked on top of the television. And the smell? It stank like the aftermath of a gay orgy, or rather what I assumed a gay orgy would smell like. I had never been to one to know for certain.

Bobbie ambled back to the door and handed me a tee-shirt that was still in its clear plastic wrapper.

"It's a size 'M', Terry, so it's gonna be a tad big fer the runt," he said with a smirk. "It still oughta cover his cute little butt up just like your's does though."

I smiled. So Bobbie had noticed what Ty was wearing, and not wearing, when he came by my room to drop off the bucket of chicken and the six-pack of beer. It would not have taken a lot of effort to figure out what was going on.

"Thanks Trev," I called out.

"No problem, Terry. It wasn't worth wearing until today," Trevor joked.

"Very funny," I said. I nodded with a smirk. "Go take care of Trevor, Bobbie. We'll be waitin' in the Pontiac at six-thirty."

Bobbie nodded. I held out my hand. We shook. We weren't making a deal. We were friends showing approval.

By the time I got back to the room, Ty was under the sheet and sound asleep. All I could see was his head, a small part of his bare brown shoulder and Bandit's head tucked under his arm. He was dark against the white sheet. I snapped off the bed lamp and undressed, dropping my clothes on the floor next to the bed. Leaving at six-thirty meant getting up at six, assuming we came back to the room and checked out later. Six a.m. was late enough that I would not need a wake-up call. For the last time, I gazed at Ty. In the faint light, I could just make out the shape of his small body under the sheet. I was not about to risk disturbing him by getting into the same bed. I got into the bed that Bobbie had been using before he relocated to the adjoining room.

***

There was more light in the room when I awoke. You know what it's like, those first few minutes of waking up, when you are not fully awake and you're not asleep? My eyes closed again and I thought about all the things we would have to do to get the car ready to race again. The only problem was that my mind kept going back to something that I could not quite remember. To make matters worse, I kept thinking about getting new tires on the Pontiac. So I was thinking about going to Sam's or some other discount tire dealer, when I heard the sounds coming from the adjoining bed. It was a rustling sound, at least at first. Then the patient squeak of the mattress springs as a weight was repositioned. Then more rustling, then another squeak. Then, the faint tapping sound as if something was rocking back and forth. It was a slow constant rhythm.

It was only then that I remembered that I was not alone in the room. Ty! I smiled. Without thinking further, I rolled over from my side onto my back and turned my head to look at him. I smiled immediately. He was humping. I had no idea what he was humping because the sheet covered him all the way to his shoulders, but there was no doubt about what he was doing. His butt was definitely going up and down. Up and down. Unless I was mistaken, he had one hand underneath him. The other arm I could see holding his pillow close to his face. His legs were splayed and his feet were digging toes-first into the bed. And his little butt went up and down. Even when it went all the way down, it was still lifted off the bed by a couple of inches.

I grinned, my imagination working overtime about whatever it was that he was humping. It had to be the spare pillow, of course. What would I have given to be that pillow underneath him? To feel his rigid little penis jabbing into me, rubbing against my body, giving both of us over-whelming pleasure. I lay very still and watched. Up and down. After every couple of thrusts, he slowed or stopped. He was either making it last because it felt so good, or the stimulation was simply too much for him to continue at the same pace. Not that he was humping hard and fast, because he wasn't. He was doing it very slowly and deliberately, concentrating to make every languid sensuous movement the most enjoyable. I made the logical assumption that someone had taught the boy to 'fuck'.

Well, all good things have to come to an end sooner or later. His movements had become a lot more frantic when he finally turned and looked at me. It was one of the 'Kodak' moments. The look on his face said it all. One-hundred percent pure shock, at least at first.

"Whatcha doin', Ace?" I said, pretending ignorance.

He fell for it for a few seconds. "Nuthin'!"

It was all he could do to get that one word out. He started turning red. I don't think I had ever seen a boy get crimson quite so fast. talk about being caught with your hand in the cookie jar! I took a deep breath, not at all certain of what I should say, if anything at all. What did you say to a ten-year-old boy who had just been close to getting his rocks off only to discover he was being watched? I went for the tried and true approach of 'embarrass him further'.

"You were humpin' yer pillow, weren't ya Ace?" I chuckled.

"No!" I could see the distinct movement of his hands under the sheet. he appeared to be pulling at something.

I smirked. "Sure ya were. I've been watchin' fer a while. Lucky goddamn pillow, if ya ask me."

"No one asked you," Ty retorted under his breath. I thought I could see his hand moving under the sheet. "Ah thought you was asleep," he added with a silly look on his face.

"I was asleep, 'till yer heavy breathin' woke me up."

"I wasn't breathin' heavy."

"Yeah, ya were, Ace. I reckon yer moans could'a been heard next door. Ya probably woke Bobbie and Trevor up too."

"Okay, so fuckin' turn over 'n go back to sleep," Ty said angrily. "Ah'm sorry, okay!"

I laughed then. I had teased him long enough. It was time to restore a little self-esteem.

"No way! I'm watchin'."

"'n I ain't doin' it no more." He sounded angry. Yet, his hand was still making the sheet shake.

"Ya know, when I was 'bout yer age, I used to hump 'till I made holes on my pillow," I laughed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah! I figured the best way was folding the pillow over so I could stick my dick up the middle. I fucked that pillow just 'bout every night I reckon."

Ty giggled. "Yer makin' that up, ain't ya Terry?"

"Nope. That was one hot pillow. 'course once I started cummin' it was a problem. I used to starch the pillowcase most every night."

He kept giggling. "I never done my pillow."

"Huh? Whatcha got underneath then?"

He smiled shyly and rolled back onto his side, reaching down to where his hips had been. A moment later, he pulled Bandit out from underneath the sheet.

"Bandit?" I asked in surprise. He nodded bashfully. "He don't mind bein' humped?"

Ty giggled, gleefully playing along. "Nope. He's cool with it. I cain't cum so there ain't no mess to worry 'bout."

"Yeah, I guess not.," I laughed. "So what do ya do? Sick it in his armpit or somethin'?"

"Nope!" There was a long pause.

"I told ya how I humped my pillow," I teased. "So whatcha doin' to Bandit?"

"Promise ya won't laugh?" Ty demanded.

"Sure. Can I smile?"

He grinned. "Smilin's okay, I reckon." There was another long pause. "There's this hole in his tummy."

I laughed.

Ty growled menacingly and pushed the sheet down. A moment later he was out of his bed and flying through the air in a death defying leap onto my bed. It was a bit like being attacked by a tiger, only this tiger was smooth and brown-skinned and sporting a hard little penis. However, he fought like a tiger, and he growled like a tiger, and I had the time of my life. What was it that Bobbie had said about having fun with him? Every chance I got, I landed a firm slap on an even firmer behind. He was all muscle, even his butt. I tickled him so, producing squeals just as loud as when I wacked his butt.

Ty got in his share of torture as well, except that his efforts were directed almost entirely to my penis and testicles. He knew how to fight dirty. Every chance he got, he dragged my erection down between my legs and let it go so that it smacked loudly against my belly. He flicked his fingers at my testicles hard enough that it stung. Every time he did that, I reciprocated by slapping his butt hard enough to produce a yelp, but which was guaranteed to produce another attack from him. It went on for about five minutes.

"Man, yer cock is so slimy," Ty announced with a crude swipe of his fingers over the top of my penis.

He was sitting on top of my chest with his back to me at that point. I was gazing at his back, totally entranced by the combination of muscle and bone that defined his form. He had a narrow waist and much wider shoulders so that it was not unlike looking at a triangle. Right up the center was a line of tiny rounded vertebrae-bumps that began under his rat's tail and faded just an inch from where his crack began. His butt was flattened against my belly. He had prominent hips, hips with bony ridges that flared out from his waist.

"Yeah, well yer squashin' the crap outta me," I laughed. "Git yer cute butt offa me," I added as I flipped him to the side with enough force to make him sprawl onto the bed.

I held him down with my legs and played the drums on his hard-as-rubber butt until he begged for mercy. He gave me a sour look and promptly broke into a broad grin when I finally let him up.

"What's the time, Ace?" I asked.

"Five-thirty," Ty answered, looking over my shoulder at the digital clock on night stand.

"Geez, it's still early," I said. "You wanna go back 'n hump yer friend Bandit for a while."

Ty smirked. "Nope! Yer more fun."

I twisted over and reached across to the other bed. By stretching as far as I could I could just reach Ty's teddy bear. I grabbed it by the foot and brought it back to the bed we were sharing.

"Ya sure?" I teased. "He looks kinda lonely to me."

"That's Bandit," Ty said with a grin.

"Me too. I wouldn't mind bein' Bandit," I chuckled.

I pretended to give the bear a hug and made a cursory examination of the front, looking for the hole in its 'tummy'. At first glance it looked like a normal bear, a little grubbier than most, but otherwise normal. The woollen sweater was in dire need of a wash. I turned it over. There was a hole in the seam among the back. A small, round hole, about where a butt-hole would be if teddy bears had butt holes. It certainly was not a hole in the bear's 'tummy'. I pointed to the hole and did not say anything. The look on Ty's face was precious. He blushed.

"Now, I gone 'n got ya all embarassed," I teased. "Whatcha do with the hole, Ace?"

"Nuthin'!"

He smiled after a few seconds. He kept playing with his penis, looking at the bear, thinking to himself, for a long while.

"So whatcha think ah do with it?"

"Ya can really stick in here? It don't look nearly half that big to me. 'course ya do have a tiny dick. Maybe it'd fit three inches [7½ cm]."

"Ya know well as ah do 's bigger than that," Ty claimed with a smirk. "I already proved that, ain't I?"

I glanced down and playfully pushed his legs to the side so that I could see his genitals. His penis was still unbelievably hard. Oh to be young enough to keep an erection that long. I examined the bear again. There was a hole, a tunnel really, that had been bored right into the bear's synthetic stuffing.

"I bet it feels pretty good," I said.

"'s okay."

He pulled his penis down and let it slap up against his lower belly. His scrotum had tightened into a tiny wrinkled knot underneath. It looked too small to have testicles inside it.

"You can really stick it up there?" I asked.

"Ya wanna see?"

He didn't wait for my answer. He took the bear out of my hand and brought it down to his groin. He fiddled with the end of his penis, gradually working the head into the seam. It was a tight fit. However, after a few seconds he bent the bear's legs back out of the way.

"See!" he said proudly.

His penis was about halfway inside the bear. The opening was tight around the shaft, but not so tight that he could not push more of his penis inside if he wanted to.

"Bandit don't mind being fucked in the butt?" I asked.

"It ain't that," Ty denied immediately. "It's… it's…"

"Bandit's a girl bear?" I asked.

"No! He ain't no girl," Ty answered. "It ain't his butt-hole. It's just a hole I made, that's all."

"Sure it is." I winked. "It's looks like it's pretty tight."

"I sewed it up so it don't tear further," Ty blurted out before he could stop himself. He smirked. "Anyway, it feels better tighter."

"Sure does. The tighter the better. 'course ya know what feels better on a guy's dick than somethin' tight?"

"What?"

"Somethin' wet and hot. Then it feels just like the real thing."

"Ya mean like how a pussy feels?" Ty giggled.

"If that's what turns ya on. That's tha only problem with humpin' a pillow, or Bandit here. Dicks really like it when it's slippery inside. Ya ought squeeze some hand lotion or somethin' up there," I suggested crudely.

"What? No way, Jose! I ain't doin' that ta Bandit. It'd make him all greasy inside," he said scornfully.

I laughed. I was beginning to learn that Ty was very protective. I guessed that was only to be expected when he had so little to begin with. Then, I had an idea.

Chapter 8

With a grin that stretched nearly from one ear to the other, Ty gleefully inserted his forefinger into the hole in Bandit's behind and wriggled it around. If he had any idea of how sexy he looked, sitting there naked on my bed with his slender sun-tanned legs under him and his finger pushed inside his teddy bear's make-believe butt-hole, and well past the second joint at that, he would have been shocked. It was enough to make my erection harder than ever. I could not have taken my eyes away even if I had wanted to. I licked my lips, feeling hungrier than I did after a long race. I swallowed a few times and tried to think of something else. It was difficult not to tell him how sexy he was. I could feel my penis starting to ache.

After a few moments of pushing his finger back and forth Ty looked up at me with his teasing eyes. There was a hint of a smile on his perfectly shaped lips that flickered as he gave the situation some thought. It was obvious he was about to add fuel to the fire. He knew the effect that he was having on me. That he was burning high octane gas, would only make the situation worse.

"Yeah, it does feel kinda dry," he admitted with a loud sudden giggle. "Now I think 'bout it, it don't feel nuthin' like a pussy."

"I guess, but I'm kinda surprised that ya haven't figured out what to do to fix it."

Ty shrugged, slowly moving his finger in and out of the ragged hole. He rotated it, then began pulling back against the stretched threads to make it even larger. At the same time he used the tip of his tongue to play with his bottom lip. We sat there in silence, me staring at Ty, and Ty studying the hole in his bear.

"Ya really know what feels like a pussy, Ace?" I asked slyly.

"No! And don't be sayin' my butt does, 'cause it ain't on tha cards, Terry," he replied immediately.

Despite rejecting the immediate possibility of the two of us having anal sex, he smirked. That playful grin was enough to excite me, leaving a vague impression in my mind, that if pushed hard enough, he might eventually relent and consent to giving it a try at some point.

"Well, it does feel good that's fer sure, Ace, only the back door ain't what I had in mind," I said flippantly.

Ty shrugged, seemingly passing off the possibility that anything I could suggest might offer an alternative. When I finally managed to take my eyes away from him for more than a few seconds it was to gaze at his partially erect penis. It wasn't hard to start imagining that short sensitive organ doing exactly what his finger was doing even if it was pushed inside a girl. He was naturally sexual, and although most people would say he was shameless and depraved, to me he was erotic and delightfully uninhibited. I watched his finger with its dark grease lines, going around and around and up and down. If the bear was real both of them would have been very happy about then. If only Ty would do the same thing with me… It might even be fun, having him draped over my back, digging his little boy tool between my buttocks. I grinned at him, leaving the thought alone and trying to get back into safer territory.

"Ya know what else's hot and wet and nice and slimy, and feels just like a pussy?" I ventured with a sly glance to see how he would respond.

Ty regarded me suspiciously. He shook his head once. "What?"

"Gettin' yer dick sucked, Ace," I laughed as I saw his surprise. "In fact, I know some men who swear that another guy's mouth feels better than pussy, especially when it's done by another guy."

"You mean like Bobbie?" Ty grinned.

I guffawed, thinking about what I had observed in the motel room next door. Of course, Ty had not seen what I had seen, but he was experienced enough to guess at the sort of things that two gay men might do together. In fact, the more I thought about it, it was very easy to imagine Bobbie going down on another man. However, the idea of me doing that to a man-sized hair-covered cock was depressing. It would be a very different matter with Ty's smooth small member. It looked delectable, like a tasty morsel waiting to be devoured.

"He ain't told me he does stuff like that exactly, Ace, but yeah, he probably thinks along them lines, I reckon."

"Why?" Ty asked innocently. "I mean like why would it feel better 'n if some girl done it?"

"I guess 'cause guys know how other guys feel," I offered.

That seemed to make sense to me. There was no way in hell that a woman could ever understand how a man's penis felt, much the same as I had no appreciation of a vagina. I knew as much about 'beaver' as I knew about real beaver, and that was not very much. I hesitated before I continued.

"Um… you wanna try it, Ace?" I suggested awkwardly. "I'll suck yer dick if ya want."

"Maybe," Ty ventured. He thought about it. "Do I have'ta do yers, Terry?"

I shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant about a suggestion that made my heart pound. Just the thought of it, of Ty's beautiful little head down and his pretty mouth wide open, sucking on my engorged penis, excited me beyond my wildest dreams.

"Not if ya don't want, Ace," I finally managed to say.

He grinned at that. "Okay!" he said gleefully. "Ya sure ya don't mind?"

I winked. I realized then that there would come a time when he would reciprocate. I was not going to force him to do something he was not ready for.

"Sure. Suckin' yer dinky little wiener gonna be the best thing I've done in a long while," I laughed.

"Better 'n yesterday?" Ty asked boldly.

He did not wait for me to answer. I think he knew what I was going to say anyway. Instead, he promptly stretched out on the bed and put his arms behind his head. He looked down the length of his bare sun-tanned body. If his penis had been half-erect when I had last noticed it, it wasn't any longer. It looked as if it would snap off. Just to make sure, I playfully flipped at it. It was like touching a little shock absorber. It bounced up and down, oscillating less each time it jerked, reaching final equilibrium with a slight quiver.

"Yeah, much better," I said with an evil smack of my lips. That made him giggle.

"Don't bite it, okay!" he warned.

"Me? Hell, I ain't bitten a dick off in months," I teased.

I started to lean in towards my eventual target. I glanced up, watching Ty's wary expression. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was barely able to stop himself from placing both hands over his genitals to protect them. I wondered how he would react if I kissed his belly. It was inviting. Smooth and golden brown, flat and as hard as a board, although rippled with muscle where it was supposed to be. He had a tiny belly button, so deliciously formed that it was all I could do not to slurp over it. His belly narrowed to a 'v', and swelled just before his sex. He was smooth there, as smooth and soft as a baby. And there was his penis, that crowning achievement of a boy. Hard as rock, as hard as a forged connecting rod. And at the very tip was that glorious strange-hued helmeted head, so swollen that it was purple and shiny. The slit was barely visible. His testicles were pulled up tightly. They so small and taut that I could barely see his walnut-colored, wrinkled scrotum unless I moved down between his legs and looked underneath. It was there, of course, but it was so flattened that it almost looked as if he didn't have testicles.

I massaged his belly, flowing my fingers across his body, gracefully grazing satin-smooth skin. I began to move lower. His penis jumped expectantly every time my head inched closer. I glanced back. Ty licked his lips. He smiled slightly.

"Well? I'm waitin'. I got four hot inches [10 cm] ready fer ya."

"Four inches [10 cm] my ass," I teased. "It's just pushin' three, Ace."

"I done proved it to ya already how big it is. Are ya goin' ta do it or not?" he rebuked defensively.

"Be patient you little perv. I'm gettin' into place. Ya don't wanna rush into it," I laughed. "Yer gonna get sucked soon enough. Anyway yer dick's hard enough to snap off if I ain't careful."

"So suck it," Ty said insistently.

"Ya sure 'bout this, Ace?" I asked. "I don't want ya to do nothin' ya don't want to do."

I was barely able to control myself at that point. However, as eager as I was, I still wanted Ty to be in control. Above all, I wanted that to be well understood by both of us. I was not about to take advantage of him, no matter how much I would have liked to. I looked at him steadily to make certain he was agreeable. From his expression, one thing was certain. He grinned happily, his eyes sparkling with excitement. It could only be interpreted to mean that he was doing this because he wanted to. He was both eager and willing, perhaps even more than I was. This was going to be on his terms and it sent a wild thrilling surge through me.

"Fer God's sake, just do it, Terry!" Ty said impatiently.

"I'm surprised ya ain't ya had this little dude sucked yet?" I teased. I rubbed my finger over his rigid penis and he lifted up instantly, his entire body suddenly very tense. "I kinda find it hard to believe that ya really had this thing stuffed up a pussy, but not in a guy's mouth?"

As I said it, I pretended to be surprised, with widened eyes and an opened mouth. Ty smirked back at me.

"Did ah say this was the first time?" he said teasingly.

"Um, no… but is it, Ace?" I teased back.

"I ain't tellin'. I ain't gay, that's fer sure. Anyway, ya wouldn't want me tellin' someone that Terry Atkins sucked my dick would ya?"

"You got that right! Last chance to say no? Ya rather I don't suck it, ya better say so Ace?"

"No way, Jose. Won't it taste like piss?" he asked nervously.

I shrugged. "So what if it does. Just don't piss in my mouth," I added crudely.

"I won't. So suck me, will ya?" he suggested gleefully.

"Yer sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why don't ya open up and do it?" Ty demanded insistently.

With that final go ahead, I went to work. I think he was expecting me to deep-throat him and get it over quickly. Instead, I made it last. I made it last a very long time.

Boys are strange in that most of them don't like being kissed on the lips, but a lot of them are perfectly happy to be kissed elsewhere. At least, that is what I concluded based on a sample of one. Yes, it was a small sample, but I was not trying to prove some scientific hypothesis. However, for me, it was conclusive. I began by stroking his shoulders and arms. That lasted all of about thirty seconds before Ty wriggled and scooted up on the bed so that my hand was a few inches closer to his groin. He smirked, flexing his penis so that it jumped up and down.

"That's some dick ya got there, Ace," I teased. "It might be small but it's harder than hell."

"It ain't so small, Terry," Ty rebuked. "I reckon it's as big as any other kid my age."

He sounded somewhat perturbed, but when I glanced at his face he was still smiling happily, almost too happily – as if he had proven something beyond a shadow of a doubt and there would be no need to discuss is again. However, my hand was making steady progress towards his pint-sized genitals. The attraction was overwhelming. It was if there was a magnetic force between us. I needed only to touch that small indisputably male part and we would both be forever satisfied. Indeed, by then I needed only to extend my fingers and I would touch where his penis joined to his pubis. I changed course at the last minute and slid my hand down his thigh, coming very close but not touching. He quivered and sighed softly.

"You little horn dog," I said under my breath. "Ya really want this don't ya?"

Ty didn't answer. Some time during the last few seconds he had become very tense. His penis suddenly flexed and jumped almost as if he was experiencing the spasms of orgasm. His belly tightened, revealing ripples of knotted muscle. He licked his lips. He took a deep breath. And then he relaxed, waiting until my hand reached his knee and began to move up again. This time I tickled the inside of his thigh with my fingertips. Instinctively, his other leg moved away, a long way away, until it was nearly perpendicular to the leg I was caressing. He was giving me access, deliberately, so that there could be no uncertainty. I glanced up to see the faint trace of a smile. His eyes were nearly closed. He sucked on his bottom lip. It seemed like I could hear him thinking. 'Touch me there. Go on! I want you to. Do it!' As my fingers came closer, his scrotum actually pulled up slightly, lifting his testicles in anticipation of being fondled. I barely brushed the pink silky skin when my hand drifted past. He gasped.

Then, my hand started to shake. His rigid penis was horizontal and parallel to his flat belly, following the slight contour with a curve of its own. The head, now swollen and purple-colored, reached just to his tan line. It hovered over the zone between brown and pale skin as if bridging between his public and private areas. My fingers circled over his navel, inducing another spontaneous shiver. For the last time my fingers resumed the downward journey, encroaching into sacred territory. For an instant, Ty's eyes met mine. I sensed approval, recognition of my affection, acceptance that my sole purpose in life was to give him pleasure. His eyes flickered and he nodded once, then again, and in that gesture of silently yielding, made my heart surge with excitement. Another nervous tremor ran through him when my fingers stroked along the short inflexible length of his penis.

"Sure feels nice when someone else plays with it, don't it Ace?" I murmured.

I did not expect him to answer. I was aware of his penis throbbing beneath my fingers. His pelvis lifted up, pushing his sex into my grasp. My hand cupped over it, my fingers closing up around the hemisphere of his testicles, giving him a secure comfortable sensation that elicited yet another wistful sigh. When I lifted his penis into a vertical position it became even stiffer. I felt it pushing against my fingers, trying to return to the position of repose along his belly. However, where it had been was not where I wanted it. I wanted it sticking straight up. My fingers eased along the silky skin, pulling down so that the skin stretched and the head, already exposed, became more flared. The slit opened far enough that I glimpsed into the crimson hole.

I leaned down and kissed him on the most sensitive part of his body. Just a quick kiss, and very lightly, but right on the tip. For an instant I felt its soft roundness, a delicious heat centered between my lips. It felt like his penis belonged there. His hands pushed at my head even as I lifted away.

"You kissed my dick!"

"Yeah, I did," I smirked. "It didn't taste nothing like piss."

"What does it taste like then?" he asked curiously.

There was no taste, not until I thought about it. The taste was indescribably sweet. It tasted clean and fresh, and alive, and it was the taste of 'boy'. I did not know what a man's penis would taste like, but instinctively I knew that I would not like it. But I savored the taste that lingered in my mouth. It came from an intense closeness with Ty and from sharing something very special.

"Like a boy's dick," I teased.

"Very funny," Ty growled. "Ya gonna suck it or what?"

"Suck this?" I pretended to muse.

Instead I licked it. Actually, I had better make that 'slurped' it. I lowered my head, considering whether I should take all of his penis inside my mouth, or kiss it again, or give it a lick. I tried to do all three at once. When I finally lifted my mouth and tongue away there was a long silence.

"Wow," Ty muttered.

"Wow? That's all you can say?"

"More."

I wiped my mouth. It had not lasted very long, probably only a few seconds, but my chin and cheeks were wet with saliva. Ty's penis glistened wetly as well. There was even spit on his belly and scrotum. I nearly laughed when I saw the expression on his face. Ty was in rapture, his lips apart and hinting at the smile that would have been there had the end of his thumb not been inside his mouth. He breathed languidly, contentedly, sucking his cheeks in as he pulled against his thumb. His eyes were closed to slits. He was obviously very happy, but especially so for a boy who claimed he was not 'gay'.

"I didn't know yer a baby, or are yer into suckin' yer thumb?" I taunted.

"I don't!" Ty retorted heatedly. And then he smiled shyly as he realized where his thumb was. "I was pickin' somethin' from my teeth."

"Yeah, sure ya were, Ace. You were doin' the next best thing to suckin' dick."

"Man, no way! I was not! Yer gross!"

I laughed. "Ya ready to git yer rocks off?"

Ty gave me a curious look. He nodded and eagerly pushed his hands against the back of my head. I went down on him. This time there was no kissing or licking. I opened my mouth and took his penis in. I sucked, pulling it all the way inside. Then, still sucking, I pushed at his testicles until his scrotum was in my mouth. His little eggs popped through the ring of my lips one at a time. I forced my tongue into the small pouch, stabbing aggressively but not hard enough to cause him any pain. He wriggled underneath me, his hands and feet twitching. His body pressed upward, seeking to get even more of his groin into my mouth. I sucked as hard as I could, wetting his genitals with my tongue.

"Man that is some suction yer've got." Ty gasped.

I wanted to tell him that I had only just started, that he had not seen anything yet. However, saying anything to him would have meant taking my mouth away, and at that moment it was the last thing I wanted to do. I could feel him becoming restless, quaking when I tongued his penis, shuddering when my lips massaged his sensitive scrotum. Without any experience, and based entirely on how he responded, I sucked him right up to the point of orgasm before I stopped.

His muscles had become so taut that his slender body was bowed. I grinned at him and licked my lips. Saliva dripped from his penis. There was even spit dribbling down between his legs on both sides of his scrotum. We were both breathing heavily.

"What's wrong?" Ty asked nervously.

"I thought you were gettin' bored. I worked ya over pretty good, didn't I?"

"Yeah. Why did ya stop just when it was gettin' good?"

"Better than pussy?"

Ty giggled. He didn't answer right away. "It's okay."

I waited for him to elaborate. 'Okay' could mean anything in Ty-speak. He grinned.

"Well, I'm gettin' bored waitin'," he said boldly. "It ain't good to start somethin' 'n not finish it."

I stifled a laugh and went back to my assigned task. Not that it was unpleasant. Sucking three very hard inches [7½ cm] of boy flesh made my mouth tingle even though the sweet taste had disappeared. The skin covering that rigid little spike was unbelievably soft, and so hot that my mouth seemed to melt around it. Within seconds Ty began to move his hips up and down. The motion was natural and despite his youth, entirely expected. He humped against me gently at first and I nuzzled his smooth belly with my nose and cheek. I tightened my lips around his penis and used my fingers to rub his testicles. His thrusting became stronger, faster, more agitated until the slow rhythm was gone and his hips jerked erratically. I was entranced. He was going to climax because of what I was doing to him. I was giving him special feelings, the kind of feelings that lovers give to each other.

There was another feeling that I wanted him to experience. I wiped the forefinger of my right hand against his scrotum, wetting it thoroughly before sliding it down along the crease between his legs. The rippling thin line led back underneath him, into his crevice. He was wet there and slippery to, so slippery that I need not have worried about getting my finger wet. His cheeks were firm and close together, yet they were so slick that they offered little resistance. My finger pressed further into Ty's crack. I rubbed back and forth, creeping forward very slowly, not rushing into that forbidden zone. His hips suddenly lifted up a little higher. Was it possible? Was this really happening?

I could not accept that he was going to allow me to touch that part of his body, not after he had rejected anal sex. Yet, he said nothing. His hips kept moving, jabbing his penis back and forth into my mouth. Then my finger was at his anus, not inside of course but rubbing into the furrowed lip, teasing his nerve endings until he trembled. I glanced up and saw him sucking his thumb urgently, licking it, his face contorted with ecstasy, almost in pain because the feelings were so intense. At that moment, it would have been easy to push my finger through the little ring of vibrant tingling muscle. I dared not do that, not yet, not when he didn't want me to.

However, he was too close to the edge and I eased my mouth away from his quivering little penis. It jerked expectantly, pulsing with his heart beat. I licked along its short hot length and playfully kissed the tip. My finger stayed where it was, slowly rotating, barely probing at the entrance to his body, my other fingers gently stroking the furrow between his cheeks.

"Does that feel good?" I asked softly.

Ty did not answer. His sigh was enough to communicate what he was feeling. I smiled and went back to nibbling on his fat wrinkled scrotum. He giggled.

"That tickles, Terry."

"It's supposed to," I said, lifting my head momentarily.

Then, as my lips traversed along his erection, I wondered whether he was referring to the finger playing with his anus, or the effect of my lips rubbing against his testicles. I was about to clarify the issue by sucking on his rounded pouch some more when I was disturbed. In fact, I would have done a lot more than suck if the telephone had not started ringing. We were both startled by the strident sound.

"Damn!" I cursed.

I started to sit up, wondering who would call me. There was a remote chance that someone from my family was calling from Asheville to offer their congratulations for finishing the previous day's race. However, that was unlikely because other than my two favorite nephews, Kyle and Travis, I was considered the black sheep of the family. Other than them, I had no wish to talk to anyone.

"Answer that will ya, Ace," I said disagreeably. "If it's for me, tell 'em they've got the wrong number."

"What if it's important?"

"I don't care who the fuck it is, I'm busy right now," I replied.

Ty gave me a look that was supposed to represent shock, but he could not keep from smiling. He reached for the telephone next to the bed. He picked up the receiver, pausing to think what he was going to say. He continued to watch me, waiting to see if I would pick up where I had left off, which was trying to suck his testicles out of his scrotum.

"Yeah? Whatcha want?" he growled.

Clearly, Ty did not like the interruption to his enjoyment. His telephone manner was about the same as mine when I was in a bad mood. He listened for a moment or two before he said anything. When he spoke, he was on the verge of breaking into an infectious giggle.

"Hiya… Yeah, 'course he's here. Where do ya think he'd be this time in the mornin'?"

He smirked at me, obviously enjoying himself. I felt a surge of excitement as I appreciated the situation. We were both naked, my forefinger was rubbing around his anus, and his penis was covered with my spit.

"Yeah, he's awake… What's he doing? Um, well he's kinda busy right now, Bobbie… Nah! Whatcha think he's doing?… No, he's not in the shower… Geez!"

I grinned at Ty, silently mouthing 'you keep talking'. I lowered my head. I didn't waste any time kissing or licking his penis. I swallowed it in a single sudden gulp. I didn't stop until the entire length of his penis was inside my mouth and my lips were hard against his groin. I started moving my head up and down, listening to one side of the conversation.

"He just cain't come to the phone right now, that's all Bobbie… No, he's not on the can… Ah, yeah, ya could kinda say that, I guess… I reckon he has his hands full… No, I told ya already he cain't speak to ya," Ty giggled. "There's no reason for me to go get him. He's lying here with me on the bed."

He looked at me teasingly and in an instant, I realized what he was about to say. I was too far gone to stop him. I started bobbing my head up and down, holding his penis between my lips while I used my tongue to push it around inside my mouth. He gasped and I felt Ty's slender body twitching underneath me. His fingers grasped my hair so tightly so that I was unable to look up. Within a few moments, his breathing had become very erratic. His mouth was wide open.

"Well Terry's kinda got his mouth full… No, he's not eatin' nuthin'! Uh huh… Yeah, you got it. No, really… I'm not kiddin', Bobbie… That's right… Real soon it feels like… About right now, see…"

Ty laughed as he listened to Bobbie say something on the other end of the conversation that was clearly amusing to him, if not to me. I did not like being left out of the fun. I got back at Ty by sucking on his penis as hard as I could. His giggling stopped instantly and I was soon rewarded with a powerful shudder. It was strong enough that he gasped loudly and his back even lifted up off the bed. It took a few seconds for him to quieten down again. He breathed heavily, smiling gleefully at me as he swallowed and wiped his hand across his face. He licked his lips.

"Um… Nuthin's wrong. Okay…. Yeah, he does it okay, I guess… Um, I think so… I don't know about that. Should I ask him?… Okay…"

Ty smirked at me. He held the telephone receiver towards me. "Hey Terry," he began loudly. He began to laugh. "Bobbie, wants to…" He stopped to get his humor under control. "Ah, Bobbie wants to know if yer gonna swallow?"

I nearly choked. It was the last thing that I expected to hear.

"Maybe in a couple of years," I answered loudly when I finally managed to get the words out. "There ain't nuthin' but piss comin' out this tiny dick," I taunted boldly but quiet enough that Bobbie could not hear.

Ty scowled at me but continued to smirk. "Yeah, he's kiddin'," he said into the mouthpiece. "Um, yeah, maybe. No way! Should I ask him that?"

"Ask me what?" I demanded.

"If you like the taste?" Ty guffawed.

"What taste?" I answered. "There ain't no taste. It's too small to have a taste."

Ty wrinkled his nose, and made a face. As soon as he put the telephone back against his ear, I poked my finger further into his anus and he jerked upwards, clamping his cheeks tightly for an instant and then slowly relaxing. He tried to give me a mock-serious look that said 'get your finger out of my butt-hole', but found it impossible. He gave up and grinned instead.

"'course not… Yeah. Okay… I'll tell him. Bye."

He dropped the telephone back down onto the night stand and without warning began pushing his hands down onto my head and clutching my hair as his hips lifted up aggressively. His pelvis bucked wildly, pounding his rigid boy-penis as hard as he could against the roof of my mouth. I let him do it. There was not much else that I could do, or wanted to do. He might have been sexually immature, but it did not matter. He was very close to achieving release. He wanted to get off and I wanted to help him. His motion became faster, more urgent. His entire body strained as his drove his penis through my lips and into the slippery succulent heat within my mouth. I bobbed my head up and down as rapidly as I could, going faster and harder as he came nearer and nearer to achieving orgasm. It was all I could do to resist pushing my finger through the lip of his anus and inside him. By then, the opening felt quite loose.

"Oh god," he moaned desperately. "Oh! Oh, Terry. I'm gonna, again. I am. OH! Oh shit! Yeah! Oh! Ohhhh! Nghhhh," he squealed.

At that, his body shook violently. He lunged against me two or three times. His penis jumped between my lips, pulsing with each and every one of the spasms. I counted five or maybe six times before he stopped. Then, he lay very quiet and I had an uncomfortable feeling that perhaps he had passed out.

"You okay?" I asked nervously. I sat up and looked down at him. It was impossible that I had hurt him, yet I felt bad while I waited for him to say something.

"Yeah! I am. Phew! That sure was good. It may 'a been the best one ever, Terry."

He sounded completely drained. His eyes were partially closed and his hands lay limply beside him, temporarily exhausted and unable to move except for the occasional twitch of his hands and feet.

I picked up the corner of the sheet and gently dabbed around his groin. He was covered in my saliva. I had no idea what to say to him. I felt both very alive and satisfied in a way that I had never been before. At the same time, I was also very aware of what I had done to Ty. I had just committed child abuse. I should have been ashamed, yet I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

"I guess we had better go get a shower, Ace," I muttered.

"We ain't got the time," Ty replied softly. He smiled shyly. "Bobbie was callin' to say it's time we got goin'. We should'a been outside fifteen minutes ago."

"Fuck!" I glanced at my watch, lying on the night stand. "Damn! It's a quarter to seven. I told Bobbie we'd be ready to go pick up yer cart at six-thirty." I looked at Ty, not understanding where an hour had disappeared to. "I thought you said it was five-thirty?" I asked. "You got a problem tellin' the time or somethin'?"

Ty shrugged. "I can tell time okay. I looked at the clock just before you woke up," he answered.

He pointed to the clock that was on the night stand on the other side of the bed. The time was still five-thirty. We both looked at each other and smiled.

"Well, it's a nice way to wake up, anyway," I admitted as I started to get up from the bed. "I don't think I ever realized suckin' a boy's dick could be so much fun, even a pokey three-inch [7½ cm] one like yers."

"I done told ya it's four inches [10 cm]," Ty grinned. "Yer the dude with the small dick, not me."

I grinned back at him and held my penis out towards him. Even soft it was much larger than four inches [10 cm]. When it was erect, it was nearly as thick and long as Ty's forearm. Saying it was 'small' was so obviously inaccurate that there was no point in commenting further.

"We had better get it in gear, I guess. We can shower when we get back."

"Why don't we just head on out?" Ty suggested. "We showered yesterday? You don't smell all that bad," he added playfully.

"It ain't me I'm worried about," I teased back. "I don't want to be hanging around some stinky kid all day."

"I ain't some stinky kid," Ty rebuked. He thought for a few seconds. He shrugged with a take-it-or-leave-it' attitude. "Can we leave here? I really don't want to stay here any longer than I have to."

"Stay where? You mean here in the motel?" I asked. "It ain't that bad considering. At least the sheets are clean. We stayed at one place a coupla weeks back. There was goddamn pubic hair on the sheets and stains on the floor like ya wouldn't believe."

Ty shook his head slightly. "This place is okay. I mean can we leave Daytona, Terry. She said I could go with ya, so I just want to get going. Couldn't we get packed and leave today?"

"You mean right now, don't ya?"

"Uh huh. But you gotta shave first 'cause yer bristles really hurt," Ty grinned.

"Yeah, I guess," I answered. "Only I was thinkin' it might be fun for you and me to hang around on the beach for a coupl'a days. There ain't no reason for us to be back in Asheville, not til Bobbie's got the new engine ready to run."

"There's lots 'a beaches besides Daytona," Ty suggested brightly. "'sides, Daytona is really crowded this time of year."

"Yer afraid she'll change her mind, ain't ya Ace?" I asked pointedly.

"Kinda." He hesitated and sucked on his lip. "Can we leave now, Terry? Please?"

He was begging me to leave. I could hear the sound of pleading in his voice, that plaintive sound that came from years of unhappiness. Ty had finally been given a chance to find another life, even if it was only for the summer. He was not going to allow that chance to pass him by. He was a very determined young man.

"Well, get yer ass outta bed," I laughed. "You ain't got all that much to pack, Ace, but I sure do. Bobbie ain't gonna wait more than a few minutes before he comes in here to get us."

We hurried then, getting dressed and throwing clothes and toiletries into my suitcase. It was difficult doing that while I used my electric razor, so without folding anything, the suitcase bulged open so far that the lid had no hope of closing. We solved that problem by having Ty sit on it while I dragged the zipper around the edge. I made a quick check of the room and headed for the door with Ty in close pursuit. Luckily, I remembered to go back and get my watch.

Chapter 9

By the time we returned to the trailer park the freshness of the early morning was beginning to be replaced by the sultry air of summer. It looked even more depressing in the light of day. The trailers at the end of the rutted narrow lane were even more decrepit. A thin film of dust clung to everything. The smell was not as disgusting as it had been the last time, but it was still so bad that it was all I could do not to clamp a handkerchief over my nose and crawl on the ground. The rusted car that had been parked in front of Ty's trailer was gone, although there was a large dark patch on the ground where it had been leaking oil. I counted myself very fortunate that Ty's grandmother had left before we arrived.

According to Ty, she was probably at the local Waffle House, where she 'sometimes' worked the first shift. Based on my experience that meant that she was waiting tables from six in the morning for five dollars an hour plus meager tips. I suspected he chose to say 'sometimes' because from what I had observed, more often than not she would not be sober enough to get out of bed. Ty stayed close by my side, reluctant to go near the dilapidated trailer that he had called home for as long as he could remember, and then some. He wandered around close to where I had parked the Pontiac as if the car was his only means of escape.

We watched Bobbie back the truck up the narrow road. Driving that behemoth on the freeways was something I preferred not to do if I could possibly avoid it, but negotiating in reverse the twisting dirt road that led back to where Ty and I were waiting would have been far beyond my driving skills.

There were a couple of trees very close to the road on the last turn. Bobbie maneuvered the truck past them without even slowing down or needing a second attempt. He switched of the engine and swung down from the cabin. He tossed out most of the contents of a paper cup onto the ground. I growled, not because he was littering – another paper cup would hardly have been noticed in the mess – but a cup of coffee would have gone down great at that moment.

"Good job," I called out as he walked towards us.

Bobbie shrugged and wiped his hands on the side of his tee shirt. He was wearing a similar shirt to the one that Ty wore, although the one that Bobbie had on was decorated with a couple of coffee stains. I was beginning to like seeing my name and the number '69' on clothes. It wasn't that it made me feel like a bit of a celebrity, that they did it to please me, or even that I finally had a few fans, but simply that they were proud of me.

"Yeah, not bad fer an old man," Ty echoed cheekily.

He dodged quickly to the side of Bobbie pretended to swipe at him with his hand. Ty danced out of reach, giggling and ready to torment Bobbie further. He skipped around exhibiting with I thought to be remarkable agility for that time in the morning.

"He sure moves fast, don't he," Bobbie said gruffly. "But I'll get him when he ain't watchin'."

"Feel free," I chuckled. "When ya catch him, give him one fer me too. He's gettin' a bit outta hand."

"After this mornin', ya must be kiddin'. Did I miss somethin'? It sounded to me like ya had him eatin' outta yer hand, Terry."

I gave Bobbie a 'don't-go-there' look, although it was already too late. It was a problem that I had brought on myself. He smirked knowingly, and then deliberately glanced at Ty. It was a long look, curious, appraising, telling. Strangely, it did not bother me that Bobbie knew about what was going on between us. He seemed to accept it and that alone was enough to give an air of respectability to it, that it was less shameful, and almost socially acceptable.

After a while I cleared my throat.

"He certainly don't look none the worse fer it," Bobbie said quietly. He raised an eyebrow. "I cain't say that about you, Terry. Ya look plumb tuckered out."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" I asked. I could feel my face beginning to get red.

"Nuthin', Boss," Bobbie said moodily. He winked meaningfully at Ty. "Don't worry kid, he'll get over it after he's had some practice."

Ty grinned back at him. "I'll work on it, okay."

"I bet you will. Sure smells like shit around here, don't it?" Bobbie commented, still exchanging grins with Ty.

I nodded. "It ain't nowhere near as bad as it was last night," I said. "There's a sewage plant right over there," I said as I pointed to the woods. "When the breeze picks up it stinks like hell. Might even be worse than yer bedroom last night."

Bobbie chuckled. "No way. There's nuthin' better than the sweet smell of butt funk. You'll get used to that soon enough, trust me Terry. I guess we better get a move on before the wind starts blowin'. So dude, where's this awesome race kart of yers?"

"Over there," Ty said with a nod of his head. "I got my own pits. See 'em?"

Bobbie walked in front with Ty and me tagging along behind.

"Fuckin' hell! It's an Olimpic," he exclaimed. He spun around, grinning. "I thought you were havin' me on, kid. It's maybe, no make that definitely the best fuckin' chassis there is, Terry," he added expertly. He looked at the engine parts sitting on the work bench. "God-damn pity about the engine. It's a Raptor alright, but it's a fuckin' mess."

"Is it salvageable?" I asked.

"Yeah. Maybe. Cain't be sure till we get it in the shop. Where's the body fer it, Ty?"

"I got it stashed under the trailer. It's fucked pretty bad, Bobbie. The side got smashed in a wreck," Ty answered miserably.

"Well, it cain't be that bad. I bet I can fix it. You ain't seen what Terry can do with a car body when he ain't payin' attention, have ya?"

I grimaced, remembering Talladaga. "It don't happen all that often," I said bitterly.

Bobbie laughed. "Well, there's a reason why they call me the 'fiber-ass' and it ain't 'cause of my diet."

"Ain't that the truth," I chuckled.

Bobbie gave me a deprecating glare. "Like yer diet is somethin' to be proud of, Terry. I tell ya what. I'll bet ya twenty bucks ya start watching what ya eat now ya got a skinny little kid hanging around. Yer gotta to set him a good example 'n all. Yer gonna have to keep in shape with him around too, or you'll have a heart attack."

"Ya got that right. Ya should'a seen him puttin' away that fuckin' fried chicken we had fer dinner," Ty laughed. "I was lucky I got any of it cause of some dumb asshole who kept taking pieces."

This time I swiped at him. I nearly got him, but his reflexes were very fast. He darted away, giggling. After about a dozen paces he decided he was safely out of reach and he stopped. He grinned and licked his lips, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. I was jealous of his youth and the boundless energy that came with it.

"The runt's got a foul mouth on him, ain't he? Ya better git some at the drug store. Well, I reckon we oughta get this stuff in the truck," Bobbie said, still laughing.

He beckoned to Trevor who was still listening to the radio in the truck cabin. Trevor climbed down and ambled over to join us, leaving the door open and the sound of the long-haired lady of Country and Western blaring out into the still morning air. Perhaps it was my imagination, but Trevor walked stiffly, almost as if he was saddle sore.

"What say we each take a side and carry this little beauty over to my truck," Bobbie suggested after the good morning pleasantries were exchanged.

Ty and I took the front end. On the count of three, we lifted. It was much lighter than I expected.

"It don't weigh shit," I laughed.

"Of course not. It's chromoly, one and a quarter," Bobbie explained. "This is gonna be one hot kart by the time we're done."

"Huh?"

"Me and Trev were thinkin' on the way over 'ere we'd work on it at night when we're done with the car, Terry. It'd be kinda like a hobby fer us when we get tired of the race car. By the time we're done, there won't be nuthin' that can get close to it."

Ty turned around, looking back over his shoulder across the kart as we carried it towards the truck. He beamed. His mouth opened as he tried to find the words to thank them.

Bobbie laughed. "Ya know, I'm just thinkin' aloud, but maybe the team could sponsor him, Terry?"

"The team can barely pay it's own bills," I said grumpily.

It struck me as I said it that I was jealous more than anything else. I wasn't jealous of Ty, or even that Bobbie and Trevor wanted to spend their personal time doing something for him, but that they had the skill to fix his kart so that it was better than new. I wanted it to be me who fixed it instead of them. I wanted to do things to make Ty's life better, to make up for what he had missed so far in growing up in this miserable trailer park with a grandmother who was drunk as often as she was sober. I wanted to be responsible for his happiness.

"I guess it wouldn't cost that much if you guys can salvage most of this stuff," I added. "We'll see."

I glanced at Ty. 'We'll see' was not going to be enough. I wanted to do a lot more for him than simply fix his kart so that it could race again.

"Maybe you can do a few races while we're off the race circuit, if Bobbie gets it fixed quickly," I continued.

"Will ya, Bobbie?"

"Me and Trev will give it our best shot. Hey Trev, go open the back of the truck up while I hold this mother."

Trevor hurried to open the rear doors and swung them to the sides. He pushed some cardboard boxes away to make room for the kart and then moved back to take the load from Terry.

"I'd like that. You guys are really cool," Ty said as he beamed again and heaved up to lift the front of the kart into the back of the semi-trailer.

It took about ten minutes to locate all the pieces of the kart. The wheels were hidden behind the 'pits'. Ty scrambled through the thick brush to recover them one at a time. Each wheel was wrapped in old cloths for protection. I unwrapped one as Ty went back to get another. The alloy rim had been hand-polished and it had taken hours and hours. Each wheel was a labor of love.

The kart body was in sad shape with torn and crushed fiberglass on the front and most of one side. At first glance it did not appear to be worth saving because even with a lot of reinforcement, it would never be strong enough given the degree of damage that had been sustained. However, Bobbie assured me that the broken remains could be used to make a mold to build a new body. I heard him mention 'carbon fiber' to Trevor and I groaned to myself as I began to imagine the cost.

It was only after all of the pieces were loaded and the truck was halfway down the dirt road that I paused to rest by leaning back against the side of the Pontiac. During the last few minutes it had become noticeably hotter. I wiped my brow and took one last look around Ty's 'pits' to see if we had overlooked anything.

"Hi Paul," Ty called out from beside me.

I turned to see who he was talking to. A boy, lanky and probably in his mid teens, had opened the door of the adjacent trailer. He was dressed in boxers and nothing else. He waved listlessly and slowly descended the stairs. His hair was short and dark. There were two earrings in his left ear. His face had a wasted look. His cheeks were pinched and there were dark smudges around his eyes. He had a few pimples but seemed to have escaped the afflictions of adolescence.

He appeared to be oblivious to the presence of three men and a semi-trailer.

"How's it going, Dude?" Ty added when Paul was within an arm's reach.

"Okay, Ty. He ain't up yet," Paul answered tonelessly.

If I did not know better, I would have said the teenager had a hangover. He shuffled his feet in the dirt. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at me momentarily.

"I think yer gran's gone up to the Waffle House. I heard her car startin' earlier."

Ty nodded. He turned and with a shy but proud smile, acknowledged my presence. "This here's my friend, Terry Atkins, Paul. He's a nascar driver," he added proudly.

"Yeah, I figured that when I seen the truck. I watched him yesterday afternoon on Gordon Jeffries ass. Number Sixty-Nine. Man, does that ever sound like you."

"Huh?" Ty murmured.

"Sixty-nine? You know? Shit! Sixty-nine! As in doin' what ya do best." Paul smirked.

He made his lips push forward slightly and then, realizing that I was watching but not caring, he used his tongue to lick his lips. Ty reddened. He resisted looking back at me. He scuffed his feet in the dirty sand and shrugged.

"It ain't like that, Paul."

"Yeah, like hell it ain't. He told me he signed somethin' fer Tina last night 'bout you?" Paul prompted. "It was some paper 'bout you and some guy havin' guardianship or somethin'.

"I'm goin' away with him fer a while, that's all. Till the end of summer."

Paul's eyes moved towards me, silently assessing what he saw. A moment later, his eyes flickered downwards to check out my crotch. His look made me feel uncomfortable. For a few moments when our eyes met again, I realized that we were exchanging thoughts. It was no secret that this gangly teenager had been intimate with Ty. His eyes told me that. They had been intimate not once, but often. He wanted me to know that Ty was used merchandise. He wanted me to be jealous.

"Is Claire doin' okay?" Ty asked softly.

"Yeah, she's okay," Paul answered. "She's asleep right now. I can go get her if ya want me to?"

"Nah, that's okay. I don't want to wake her up. Will ya say goodbye to her fer me?" Ty asked uncomfortably.

Paul's eyes met mine again as he nodded. His fingers rasped against the palm of his hand. Ty sniffed and his small hand came up to wipe over his nose. He absently sucked on his bottom lip. His eyes blinked. He sighed. Paul tensed, blinking nervously.

"You oughta tell someone, Paul," Ty said hesitantly. "Make him stop it."

"Yeah, right. I told ya it ain't that bad most of the time. Sometimes it's even okay. No matter what he does, it's way better than bein' in some muther-fuckin' home, Ty. Least ways Jeanie and me are together this way."

"But…"

"It's cool, Ty. Leave it alone, will ya?"

Paul stopped talking and studied his fingers, rubbing his fingernails with his thumb. Like his lean body, his fingers were bony. I allowed my eyes for drop down for an instant. He was probably no larger than average in the groin area, but his angular body seemed to accentuate that part of his anatomy.

"I guess we had better get goin', Ty," I said after no one had spoken for about a minute.

Ty nodded. "Take it easy, okay Paul?" he said as he held out his hand.

Paul winced. His hand clasped Ty's hand, tentatively. They shook, not like two boys who were saying goodbye, but as two boys who were afraid of what the future held for them.

"Take care of Claire, okay?" Ty implored. He sounded desparate.

Paul nodded. He breathed out. "It's okay for her, Ty. Really it is. It ain't what he likes. You know what I mean."

"Paul?…"

"Don't be doing nuthin' I would do," Paul joked feebly. "Yer know somethin'? Yer luckier than hell, Kincaid."

"I'll send ya email or somethin', Dude," Ty said awkwardly.

Paul still held his hand. I wondered just how much the two boys had shared together before I came into Ty's life. I could tell one thing. It was more than just having sex. They were friends. They may even have been close enough to be lovers. I turned away and walked to the rear of the car with the intention of giving them some privacy. I heard Ty whispering, Paul saying nothing, nothing except 'okay'. Then, the boys fell silent. I turned back, sensing that something was wrong. A man was watching them. He was in the same place where Paul had been standing when he first came out of the trailer, yet he had to stoop to fit underneath the drooping porch roof. I recognized the man immediately. He was the man who had witnessed the document that gave Tina's permission for Ty to travel with me until the end of the summer.

"Hey Kincaid! Git yer butt over 'ere a minute!" he called out in an angry voice.

Paul turned angrily. He mouthed something, an obscenity that he was not brave enough to say aloud."

"Don't even be thinkin' it, yer little shit!" the man added in a tone that demanded obedience.

Ty started walking slowly in the direction of the trailer. Then, some apparently unpleasant thought passed through his mind and he recoiled, fighting the ingrained response to do what he was told. He stood perfectly still, waiting for the man to say or do something. I could sense the tension building between them. The man scowled at him, his eyes narrowing as he silently fumed. I started to walk towards Ty. By the time I was next to Ty, he had become visibly nervous, clenching his fists impotently. At the same time, the man had come down the steps. He walked across the littered ground, kicking a toy dump truck out of the way. He stopped behind Paul, pushing him so that he faced Ty, then holding him there by placing both of his hands on the teenager's bony naked shoulders.

"I'm surprised ya came back here, Kincaid. I didn't think ya had the fuckin' balls fer it," he sneered.

"What's that s'posed to mean?" Ty asked.

"Ya always were a thievin' little cunt, weren't ya?"

"I ain't takin' nuthin' that ain't mine. I'm pickin' up the kart, that's all. It's mine!" he added adamantly.

The man shrugged. "'Bout fuckin' time that shit got moved. I'm tired 'a lookin' at yer fuckin' mess. Just keep yer hands of my stuff!"

"I ain't touchin' yer stuff," Ty retorted.

"Anyway, it looks like ya finally got what ya wanted, didn't ya? He's more yer kind than Paul. Ain't that right, Paul?"

"Fuck you," Ty said under his breath.

He laughed. "Ya can wish all ya want, Kincaid, but I ain't the one whose bendin' over! Yer welcome to him, Mister Atkins. It is Atkins ain't it? Yer Terry Atkins, the race-car driver, ain't ya? That were the fuckin' name on Tina's paper, weren't it? I pretty much figured out who you was right after ya left last night, but that rig you brought in here to get Ty's crap fuckin' proved it. Fuckin' sixty-nine plastered right down the side. I bet ya cain't wait to get into his pants. "

"If ya got something to say, then say it, Mister," I countered. "I'm takin' Ty with me fer the summer. He's a friend. He's gonna help out with the team, and that's all."

Did I really believe that I said? I hoped that it sounded believable even though I knew that my relationship with Ty had progressed far beyond friendship earlier that morning. We had crossed into forbidden territory. Friends don't have oral sex, not when one of them is a preteen boy. Everything had changed between us, at least from my perspective. I wondered what Ty thought about what had happened. We had not talked about it during the drive from the motel. However, he had been definitely thinking about it, just as I had been pensive. We would have to talk about it sooner or later.

"Yeah, sure he is! 'N pigs fuckin' fly too? Trust me, Atkins, ya got yerself a boy there who's one hot little fucker. If ya don't believe me, ask Paul. Paul and him's been gettin' it off ever since I moved in here. They're both a pair of ass-fuckin' queers."

Ty shrank back even further. I could feel him trembling beside me. I placed my hands firmly, possessively on his shoulders. I held him almost the same way that the man was holding Paul, yet what I felt inside was not about ownership. I wanted to protect Ty. I don't know why I wanted to shelter him, other than to show this unpleasant and crude man that the boy who he was talking about was someone I cared about a great deal. My thumbs stroked the bare brown skin at each side of Ty's neck.

I could feel my anger growing. I breathed out, counted to 'ten', trying resist the impulse to punch him. He was taller than I was, and very likely stronger too, but I would have better reflexes. I wondered what the man's problem was, for there clearly was a problem.

"Ya know somethin'? I don't give a fuck what Ty has or hasn't done with Paul," I said angrily. "That's his business. As fer as I'm concerned, he's a nice kid who deserves a better life than livin' in this hole."

"That may be, but he's also an ass-fuckin' faggot!" the man retorted. He smiled with amusement.

"I ain't," Ty shouted. "That ain't true!"

"I don't care what he is," I said calmly. "And I don't care what he's done in the past."

The man shrugged. "The hell ya don't. But then I guess you must like little boys too, Mister Atkins?"

"For Christ's sake! I ain't some god damned pervert," I rebuked. "He's spendin' the summer with us 'cause my team thinks he brings us good luck."

"Yeah, I can just imagine. I didn't know bein' a faggot was lucky," he guffawed. "I guess it depends on yer point 'a view."

"Fer God's sake! Anyway, he's too young to be anything other than a kid," I added defensively.

He smirked. "Don't bet on it, Mister. Some kids are never too young fer dick." He squeezed Paul's shoulders until he winced uncomfortably. "And some like it so much it's more than boys gettin' it off with other boys. Ain't that right, Paul?"

Paul nodded uncomfortably. There were tears in his eyes. The man had not squeezed his shoulder hard enough to hurt him. There had to be another reason for his pain. I don't know what I should have done at the time, but I took the easy way out. There was no point in arguing, and even less point in trying to resolve our differences by fighting, much though I would have loved to punch the smile off his face. I guided Ty backwards, taking one hand from his shoulders to open the car door behind me. I pushed him gently until he dropped into the seat. I walked up to Paul and the man who still stood behind him.

"Ya know, I really don't care what ya think," I said softly. "From everything that I've seen of Ty Kincaid so far, he's basically a good kid who deserves a better life than the one he's had up till now."

The man wrinkled his nose distastefully. "Yer gonna enjoy fuckin' him. He's still got his cherry fer as I know, so he's gonna be tight. Ain't that right, Paulie? Ya would'a told me it ya gone 'n dicked him, wouldn't ya?"

Paul's hands closed to form impotent fists and his jaws clenched. He did not need to say anything. I could see the answer in his eyes. I turned away and left them standing there.

Ty and I were silent until we were back on the I-95 freeway. We were headed north and away from Daytona. I had no plans for the next week or two, until I was needed back in Asheville. Bobbie would make better progress if I was not around. I drove in a mindless vacuum, not thinking about what I was doing or where we were going. I had a lot to think about, not the least being the new 'responsibility' that was seated next to me. Ty sucked on his bottom lip, watching the buildings and cars pass by but without paying attention to anything in particular. We had just passed the sign for the Flagler Beach exit when Ty turned and looked at me.

"What's up?" he asked softly. Like me, he did not like extended periods of silence.

I glanced at him. He smiled back. "Nuthin' much, Ace. How're ya doin'?"

"I'm okay," he murmured with another weak smile.

I nodded thoughtfully. Given what I had observed at the trailer park, he was carrying a lot of emotional baggage. Although I had never opened a book on psychology, it was my opinion that sort of baggage needed to be opened and discarded at the earliest opportunity.

"Ya wanna talk about it, Ace?"

"'Bout what?"

"Whatever it is that botherin' ya," I suggested.

Ty shrugged. He turned his head and stared out the window. His hair was too short to blow around very much, but his rat's tail was tossed around in the wind. His ears fascinated me. They were small, delicate, also sun tanned. The graceful curve of his neck begged to be nuzzled and kissed. I imagined my tongue tracing along his silky smooth skin as I followed the stretched tendons of his neck, reaching in the ridge of his deep collar bone. In a word, he was sexy. he was very sexy. He radiated sex like the hookers who worked around some of the southern race tracks. Despite his moodiness, he had the looks and the attitude that said, 'I'm hot!'

"Sometimes it helps if ya talk about things," I prompted.

He shrugged again. "'N sometimes it don't, Terry," he said miserably.

"Ty?"

"Yeah?" he answered over his shoulder, not turning back to look at me.

"You wanna tell me about Paul?"

"Ain't nuthin' to tell." He hesitated. "He's cool."

"Sure he is. 'N good lookin' too."

"You got the hots for him too?" Ty asked sarcastically.

"No. Just you."

"Ha ha!" he replied cynically. "Like wow."

"You wanna tell me 'bout the man back there. What's with him? Why is he such an ass-hole?"

"Ass-hole is an understatement fer that fucker," Ty commented dryly. "He's a fuckin' piece of dog shit."

"Why?" I asked gently.

"'Cause of what he done to Paul."

"What did he do?"

"Nuthin'." Ty sighed. He took a deep breath, held it in for a long while. And then the dam burst. "Damn, muther-fuckin' cunt! Fuckin' miserable ass-hole. FUCK HIM!"

"Okay, I get the impression there's a problem here," I said lightly.

Ty looked at me then. His eyes had become red and were full of tears. His hand shook as he wiped the wetness away. He shook his head, again and again, and again.

"He fucks Paul, Ter. Every fuckin' night he does it."

"Oh!" I said awkwardly.

Ty slumped into his seat and sighed loudly. Again, he smeared the tears from his eyes, leaving wet trails across his cheeks.

"How long has it been goin' on?" I asked.

"A long time. A coupla years now, I guess."

I nodded and tried not to show my concern. There was one question I had that I dared not ask because of the answer I might receive. Had Ty been dragged into it as well? I feared the worst.

"How did it start?"

"He found them…" Ty began. "They were doin' it one time… after they got home from school."

"Huh? Who is they?"

"Paul… 'n Claire. Claire's his sister."

"Okay." I waited.

"They were havin' sex," Ty said as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a a brother and sister to be having sex.

"Oh! And he found 'em, right?" I asked. Ty nodded.

When Ty had described his sexual exploits it had involved a girl who was five years old at the time. Suddenly, I realized that the girl I had seen at the trailer park was Paul's sister. Ty had also been involved with her. She had provided the 'pussy' that he had talked about. I felt my heart sink. I did not know what to say.

"I fucked her too, Terry," Ty admitted. He sounded proud, and momentarily, I felt a cold chill despite the increasing heat.

"I kinda figured that out fer myself."

"I only done it the once," he added. Suddenly, the macho pride was gone and he sounded ashamed. "I lied when I said it was lotsa times. I just wanted to find out what it felt like."

"That's probably a good thing," I remarked.

"I couldn't 'a got her pregnant 'cause I was too young," Ty added as if that somehow mitigated the situation. "But Paul could'a, I guess."

"I don't think so."

Ty looked up. "Huh? He could do it, you know…"

"He could shoot?" I prompted. Ty nodded and smiled slightly. "It wouldn't have mattered if he shot a load as big as mine, Ace. Not if she was five or six," I explained. "Just putting sperm in a pussy ain't enough. The girl needs to be mature as well," I added as an after thought.

"Oh! So girls have to make white stuff first?" Ty asked shyly.

I laughed. "Not exactly. Only guys do that. Girls have eggs that come down from inside them when they're mature."

"Kinda like chickens," Ty smirked.

"Yeah, in a way, only the egg that comes down is a whole lot smaller."

We sat in silence for a minute or more, listening to the purr of the engine and looking out over the low hood of the Pontiac. It seemed suck up the freeway. We had gotten off the subject and while we had to return to finish what we had started, we were both reluctant. Surprisingly, it was Ty who broke the silence.

"Paul and me got this place we go to…" Ty began nervously. He gnawed on his knuckles for an moment. "You know… when we want to cool down 'n stuff. It's right behind the pits… back near where the wheels were. It's shady in the afternoon. Mostly we just take out clothes off 'cause it gets so hot, but sometimes we, you know… we ah, do stuff together."

"Lucky Paul," I teased. Ty gave me a condescending look and I shrugged. "Yer still a kid, ain't ya? That means yer s'posed to play around, and if yer normal then ya do some sex stuff with yer friends. That ain't no one's business but yers, Ty. If you don't tell, no one's goin' to know."

"I'm only tellin' so ya know what happened," Ty answered.

"It was really nice that he liked ya," I said supportively. "Most boys wouldn't do stuff like that with a boy who was four or five years younger than them."

"Yeah, I know. Paul's got this learning problem so there's only like two grades between us at school. He ain't too bright sometimes, but he's cool."

"He seemed like a real nice kid," I admitted. "So what happened with Claire?"

"Mostly we didn't do nuthin' with Claire," Ty added. "She's a pest most of the time, but I kinda like her. Anyway, what I was gettin' around to was there was this one time she found me and Paul together."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Ty smirked, remembering a happy time in his otherwise unpleasant life. "It was real hot that day, Terry. Well, we both got naked see."

"Lucky Paul," I teased again.

"Geez, yer've got a one-track mind, ain't ya?" Ty said gleefully. "Claire snuck up on us. She said she was gonna tell her mom if we didn't let her get naked too." He smiled shyly. "There really weren't no way to stop her from takin' her clothes off. It just kinda happened…"

"Huh?"

"Sometimes, if it ain't too hot Paul and me wrestle," Ty answered. "You know, 'cause it's more fun to do that in the nude 'n all. Well, she wanted to do that too, only with me 'cause Paul was too big. So we started wrestin' and the next thing is my dick is stuck up her pussy."

"Lucky Claire," I chuckled. "So I take it that was how young Ty lost his virginity?"

"Lost my what?"

"Nuthin'. What about Paul's step-dad?" I asked.

I waited for him to go on. Gone was the brash little boy. Now, he was very nervous. He closed his eyes, replaying in his mind the events that had happened one afternoon.

"I had to stay back after school that day," he said softly. "So I only saw the end of it."

"What happened?"

"I could hear them when I got near to the trailers," Ty said miserably. "Paul was makin' this sound like he was cryin', kinda. 'N I could hear Claire screamin' and shoutin' out somethin' about stoppin'. So I went to look…"

Ty swallowed. He licked his lips, then immediately rubbed his fingers across his mouth. He glanced at me then quickly lowered his eyes to stare into his lap.

"It was over in like a few seconds."

"What was?"

"What he was doin' to Paul," Ty muttered.

"What was he… Oh! You mean?"

"He was fuckin' Paul in the butt, Terry. I could see it goin' in and out from where I stood." He shuddered. "Paul was underneath him. He was trying to get away, but the mother-fucker pushed his face into the ground. Then he done it even harder."

"I'm sorry," I said awkwardly.

"Ain't yer fault, Terry," Ty said dejectedly. "There ain't nuthin' either of us could'a done to stop it. When he was done he got up and left Paul lying there. He took Claire back into the trailer with him."

"Was he hurt bad?"

Ty nodded. "I seen some blood on Paul's butt, 'n it was a mess 'n all. So I asked him and he said it hurt some at first, but that's all." Ty breathed out heavily. "It hurts don't it, Terry? When a man does it to a boy?"

"I guess. I ain't done anything like that before so I really don't know, Ty," I added. "I expect it probably hurts pretty bad the first time or two. I think it gets stretched after a while. It probably stops hurtin' after a while. I mean, gay guys wouldn't keep doin' it if it didn't feel good, would they?"

"Yeah, that's what Paul said. So where are we goin', Terry?" he asked, without even pausing to adjust to a different topic.

"I don't really know. I'm just drivin' 'cause ya said we oughta haul our asses out of Daytona."

"Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?"

He grinned. He stretched, lifting his arms back behind his head, letting his hands extend through the open roof.

"I don't have to do nuthin' I don't want fer the rest of summer," he mused.

"Huh?"

He smirked. "I was jus' thinkin' out loud, Terry."

"Thinkin' what?" I prompted.

"Nuthin' much. Just about you 'n me."

"Oh? That's all?"

"Yeah. It's cool." He giggled. He turned, giving me a shy look. "Ya gonna do that again, Ter?"

"Do what?" I asked. Ty grinned and formed an 'o' with his lips. "Oh that? It depends. I didn't think ya liked it all that much," I teased.

"Huh? What makes ya think I didn't like it?" he said seriously.

"Did ya?"

"It was okay," Ty said blandly. He winked. "You did alright fer yer first time 'n everthin'."

"I guess I'll have to practice some more."

"Yeah, I guess so," Ty grinned. "It was pretty good actually. Only ya stuck yer finger where it weren't s'posed to go, didn't ya?"

"Sorry 'bout that. Ya should'a said somethin'."

"I did."

"Yeah, that's right. I remember now. How did it go? 'Oh! Oh Terry! Oh! Faster!"

Ty grimaced. "Did fuckin' not!"

"Did too. Actually, you said something more like 'Oh god, Ohhhhh, Terry. I'm gonna do it. Ohhhhh! Ohhhhh shit!'"

I laughed and Ty made a sour face that was funny because he could not help giggling. When that did not work, he tried to pout, and then he tried to ignore me. Finally he gave up.

"The butt is off limits from now on!" he said dramatically.

"Okay," I answered meekly.

"Okay?"

"I ain't never goin' to do somethin' ya don't want me to do, Ace. It's a rule I got. Anyway, my finger weren't even in yer butt."

"It sure felt like it to me," he retorted defensively

"Nope. I was just ticklin' around the outside to see if ya liked it. 'N goin' by all the noise ya made when I did it, I reckon ya liked it a whole lot."

"No fuckin' way."

I grinned, getting a peculiar thrill from his response. My intuition was telling me a very different story. There was no doubt that he enjoyed it. He was merely trying to conceal it from me. I did not respond for a while. Both of us needed time to think.

"I guess it was okay then," he muttered. He glanced at me, then bashfully, quickly averted his eyes. "I mean if ya was just ticklin'… then that's okay."

I nodded seriously. "I was."

"It felt okay then," he ventured.

"I'm glad, Ace."

"Huh?"

"Nuthin'," I replied vaguely.

I stretched my arms straight out, race-car driver style, to get into a more comfortable position. At almost the same instant, Ty moved his legs apart, until one knee was against the door lining and the other was pressed against the transmission hump. Basking in the morning sun, with his hands bent back behind him and holding on to the T-roof, he was the epitome of boyhood. If there was any doubt about his gender, there was a small yet very prominent rounded bulge in his shorts to prove it.

"So where do ya want to go next, Ace?" I asked, changing the subject as we passed the exit to St. Augustine.

Ty shrugged. "I don't care. I'm happier 'n hell sittin' right here with you."

"Then I'll just keep drivin' until we see somewhere we want to get off," I laughed. "Ya just sit there and snooze, if yer want Ace. Why don't ya work on yer tan?"

"Huh? Sun tan? Yeah, right. How am I s'posed to do that in a car?"

"Take off yer shirt fer starters," I replied with a finger pointing upward to remind him that the detachable roof panel was sitting in the trunk. "Ya got nice brown arms fer now, but if don't watch it yer gonna have a trucker tan like mine."

Ty grinned. "It ain't so bad so long as ya keep a shirt on."

"Very funny."

It took Ty about a second to get his tee-shirt off. He giggled, dropping the shirt over the back of the seat. He was already nicely tanned and in the morning sun he literally glowed like polished bronze. It was all that I could do to keep my eyes on the road. Fortunately, the traffic was not heavy in the direction we were going, at least not compared to the traffic moving steadily to the south.

"Comfortable now?" I teased.

"Yeah, but I know why ya wanted me to take my shirt of. 'Cause ya just wanna look at me, ya pervert," Ty chided.

"Who me?" I pretended innocence.

"Yeah, you. So watcha think. Do ya like what ya see?"

"Yeah. I do. Any one ever tell ya that ya got a really nice body, Ace."

"I turn ya on, don't I?" he teased.

"Not wrong," I said admiringly.

It was the first chance I had to examine his bare body in the light of day. It was a lot different to seeing him in the motel room, either under the harsh fluorescent light in the bathroom or the dim lights in the bedroom. The sunlight changed his satin-smooth skin so that it was a delicious – almost edible – shade of golden brown. From the very first time I had laid eyes on him I had realized that he was slender yet well-muscled, but seeing him sitting in the car seat just a few feet away with his arms behind his head, I was taken aback. His torso was stretched back, giving a satin sheen to his skin. He was so lean that his belly skin formed half-a-dozen thin lines both above and below his navel, which was still visible as a cleverly sculpted knot of skin.

"Ya know somethin' yesterday I would'a said you were one beautiful kid… but I would'a been wrong 'cause yer not… yer drop dead gorgeous," I thought aloud.

"Hell, cut it out with the beautiful stuff. I ain't some girl," Ty rebuked.

"Sorry, Ace. No way. Ya sure ain't some titty girl, 'n I'm glad you ain't."

I tried to concentrate on the driving. However, at 75 m.p.h. [120 km/h] on I-95 at nine a.m. and heading away from Daytona, I could have driven with my eyes closed. I kept sneaking looks at Ty. He was relaxed. He fiddled with the CD player, going through most of my meager collection until he found one that we could both listen to. Then he reclined back in his seat and put his feet up on the dash board. He drummed his fingers on the console keeping time with the Charlie Daniels Band. Twice, he leaned forward and turned up the volume and adjusted the bass until the sound echoed and boomed around us. By the second or third song, I was keeping time by tapping my fingers against the steering wheel.

"Ya like this?" I asked loudly.

Ty nodded, by then slapping the palm of his hand on the seat between the insides of his thighs as if he was playing a drum. For a while he had even mimed the words of the song, lifting his head back to reach what would have been loud high notes had he actually been singing. After a while, he reached down and turned down the volume.

"So what's it take to win at nascar?" he asked.

"Why don't you tell me," I answered. "I still haven't figured it out."

"Hm… Well, car speed fer one. Ya got that, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"On the straight yer not as quick as Jeffries," Ty replied. "Ya need a few more horses. The new engine oughta fix that. More reliable too. It don't help much if ya don't finish. Yer chassis setup is great. Then, ya got driver skill. I watched ya drive so I reckon that's okay."

"Just okay?" I asked, expecting him to modify it to 'great'.

He grinned. "'And balls."

"Balls?"

"Yeah, balls. So's ya stick yer foot down hard and keep it there."

"It takes more than a heavy foot to win a race," I said. Until then, I was impressed by his answer.

"Why do ya think ya done so good at Daytona?" he demanded.

"It was mostly luck," I answered.

"Luck ain't got shit to do with it. Maybe if yer talkin' 'bout a tire blow out or somethin'. The rest is preparation, good teamwork, stuff like that. 'N a driver who wants to win. That's the 'balls' part of it."

"Do I have the 'balls'?" I asked.

"Maybe. What ya don't have is the sponsors. Yer operation is runnin' too fuckin' lean."

"That's the understatement of the fuckin' year, Ace. Believe me, we've tried like hell to get sponsorship. No one's interested in a back-of-the-pack car outta Asheville."

"Maybe. Maybe ya ain't tried the right approach," Ty said merrily.

"And what might that be?" I asked.

My cell-phone rang.

"Jesus! That thing never stops ringin'," I complained.

I reached down and jerked it out of the case, switching it on as I lifted it to my ear.

"Florida Sanitation Services. Making yer waste work for ya. Can I help ya take out the trash?"

It was Terry, although it was hard to hear his voice over the truck noise in the background and Ty's raucous laughter next to me.

"Say what?" I said, completely baffled. "Ya oughta know by now. I don't do fuckin' voice messages, Bobbie. If it's important, they'll always call back. 'Course I don't mind. So what's up?… Yeah, right… Yer not jokin' are ya?… Earnhardt too, huh?… Where?… That's in fuckin' California, ain't it? How long?… Fer three days? Stay over fer a week? No way! I cain't do that, not to him, Bobbie, not after what happened. We really weren't planning on doin' that. He ain't interested… No! Jesus, Bobbie! Ty too? Maybe… I guess. Maybe… It ain't much fuckin' notice. I wonder how we should get there from here. I could drive back to Daytona and fly outta there. We're a ways past St. Augustine. I guess we still got a ways before we get to Fort Lauderdale… Yeah, that's right. From Tallahassee? Yeah, I guess we could. It shouldn't be too crowded. It makes sense to me too… It'd mean leavin' the car at the airport… What's that s'posed to mean? It's just a fuckin' Pontiac. Very fuckin' funny. Okay, see ya in a week 'n a half. Get us a room at a Red Roof or somethin'… No, not two beds," I laughed, looking at Ty. "One bed is all we need."

I put the phone down. He regarded me with growing apprehension.

"What's up?" Ty asked.

"It seems I gotta go to L.A. fer a while. Maybe as long as a week," I answered. "I just gotta an invite to some driver training place in Ventura. I guess someone seen me drivin' yesterday."

Ty was crushed. His jovial crumpled like a flat tire. "That's okay," he murmured. "I can easily hitch back to Daytona. It ain't that fer."

I laughed. "Yer comin' with me, Ty. I'm in some advanced class. Bobbie's callin' back to see if he can get you into one of the junior groups."

"Yer jokin'," Ty said suspiciously. "Where is this?"

"Um, Ventura, I think Bobbie said. A lot of nascar drivers have gone there he said."

"Fuckin' ace!" Ty said effusively. "Ya know what he's talkin' about, don't ya?"

"Huh?"

"It's the ultimate in kart racin'. There ain't none better than that one. This is so cool."

When Ty was excited, really exited, he could not stop talking. He talked all the way to Tallahassee.

Chapter 10

Maybe it was the donuts. Seagulls gathered, most in flight, soaring above, sharing their raucous clamor. In Asheville, North Carolina, food always brought the crows. To my mind seagulls were nothing but white crows, equally scraggly, equally bad tempered. They were certainly as noisy.

"Okay, I expect most of you know already, but for the few new people, the seagulls will leave as soon as the karts get started."

He stopped. More than a dozen people laughed on cue. Clearly, they were the repeat business. The rest of us, maybe another six people, were first timers. Ty and I were at the rear since we were the last ones to arrive. It was 9.10 a.m. and Ty and I were like two strangers since we had arrived ten minutes into the introduction and welcome session. I hadn't planned to arrive last. We were late getting out of bed, and it took some time to find a place for breakfast. There were still a few donuts left on the front table, eyed hungrily by both me and the sea gulls. There were some large urns of coffee, along with various plastic cups and spoons. After two hurried cups of coffee, I still needed another one. Without coffee, I tuned out. The speaker droned on regardless.

I assumed he was Pete Shaw, owner of Pete Shaw's Kart Racing School. Whoever he was, he looked and sounded as if he knew what driving was about. Beyond him, beyond the long sea grass, the Pacific Ocean was breaking with foam and thunder on a long expanse of sand. I made a mental note to bring my swimming shorts the next day. Ty had the advantage because he was wearing a pair of the swim shorts I had bought for him in Florida. He was sneaking quick glances at the surf, obviously torn between the two great loves of his life, surfing and karting.

"What you're looking at is a sprint kart. It's got a 17 horsepower two-stroke 100-cc Yamaha engine with a chain driving the rear axle. Seventeen horses might not sound like a lot of power to you guys, but the kart weighs all of a 150 pounds [70 kg]. With a power to weight ratio like that, it has a top speed of 80 m.p.h. [130 km/h]. You'll get to sixty in a little over six seconds."

Shaw looked around the crowd, making sure that we were all paying attention. Unfortunately, I chose that moment to yawn. He glanced away quickly as I tried to use my hand to cover my mouth. Ty giggled and poked me in the ribs with his elbow.

"Now, this may be our basic kart for rookies, but with it, driving is distilled to a primal level. It doesn't have a suspension to speak of, but you can still pull 1.3 g on the corners. That's better than any car out in the parking lot, including those nice Porsches some of you are driving. The fact is you can learn everything you need to learn to win races sitting in a sprint kart. It doesn't have a gearbox so you won't have to worry about changing gear. The clutch is a centrifugal type, coming in at about 9,000 rpm. Maximum revs are around 14,000, so you have to drive with the throttle in that range if you want power going to the wheels. Now, for a few of you…"

He paused, again looking around the group of people until he made eye-contact with three of us. I was not sure whether I was supposed to acknowledge him so I smiled slightly and tried to look wide awake. It was difficult in the morning sun. He was a few years younger than I was, or maybe he just looked younger. He was also in better shape, rather like Gordon Jeffries in that respect, but I consoled myself that he probably didn't have to contend with eating out for most of the year.

"Where was I? Okay. For those of you who aren't rookies or who have finished the intermediate training, you're going to be driving shifter karts. The engines are 125 cc motocross, running through sequential six-speed boxes. They go like stink and they have four-wheel disk brakes to stop them, but the lessons you'll learn on them are the same as the sprint karts. I'll tell you professional drivers what I've told every group for the last year. If you can beat 25 seconds a lap on your first try, I'll buy everyone here a beer."

I smiled at the challenge. His next glance was to me. Both of us knew that with a single glance he had just personalized the bet.

"I figure ah'm the one gettin' a shifter," Ty joked under his breath.

I grinned down at him and dropped my hand on his shoulder. It felt good resting it there, like it belonged. Without further ado, Ty pressed back against me, resting his head lightly on my chest. Seeing that his head had spent most of the night on my chest, my arm and shoulder were aching when I woke up. Now, by comparison it felt entirely comfortable to have him against me. With his head so close I could smell the scent of the shampoo we had used when we finally got out of bed and showered hurriedly together. It was one of those midget-sized complimentary combination shampoo-conditioner bottles that you find in hotel rooms, heavy on odor and light on hair treatment. At least he smelled clean and fresh. We had both needed a shower, even a hasty one, since it had been almost two days since I had washed, and at least that long for Ty. With his hair brushed and wearing his new clothes he could have passed for some rich kid from Hollywood or wherever it was in L.A. that celebrities lived. He was that good looking. Indeed, I had been calling him 'Hollywood' on and off since we left the motel. He pretended to be annoyed, at least I hoped he was pretending. God, he was handsome.

With the sun warming my back, I tried again to identify the scent, not paying a lot of attention as Shaw reviewed the general layout of the third-of-a-mile [500 m] track, the rules, driving etiquette, and even the different flags. The smell was something supposedly natural, not flowers or fruit, more like a meadow after it had been mowed. It was impossible to keep a straight face as Ty's firm little butt squirmed against me, his bony hip pressing deliberately into my groin. He seemed to delight in getting me excited and then rebuffing me. He had to feel my penis beginning to harden. He pressed back just a little bit harder. It felt good.

It had been the same in the shower. Then, Ty had giggled non-stop while I shampooed his hair. His humor was derived entirely from the fact that he was using what was left of the shampoo to tantalize my groin with his slippery soapy fingers, intermingling disparaging comments on the size of my erection with suggestions that I would have to have a cold shower if I didn't behave myself. I dozed contentedly in the morning sun, getting harder and harder as Ty ground his butt against me. I was still sleepy after the long trip across the country, dreaming of the often promised but still undelivered 'blow job' which was supposed to be my 'reward' for taking him with me. It didn't matter that he had jokingly recanted his offer five, or was it six times. It was one promise that I intended to take up. However, ten hours in bed together had not been enough, not when we were both too tired to move. Still, I had that to look forward to, hopefully when we were finished for the day.

"Hey, Terry, old man!" Ty exclaimed as he yanked at my hand. "Wake up! Ya still dreamin' of last night or what?"

"As fer as I remember, Ace, nuthin' happened last night," I reminded him under my breath.

Nothing had happened. We were both exhausted after the drive to Tallahassee, waiting for nearly two hours to board the plane, and then the long flight across the country with two stops and one plane change on the way. Ty had been able to snooze during the flight, because he had the ability to sleep anywhere, anytime, but I hated flying so much that I stayed awake the entire time and listened to the sounds of the plane. From the sounds of a race car you could usually tell if there was going to be a mechanical problem. I figured it was probably the same with a plane.

Ty shrugged and smirked. "Ya sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, Ace-boy. I was so tired the most I could'a done was stick ma finger up yer cute little butt 'gain." I pretended to sniff the finger tip, not certain if it was the one I had used, wrinkling my nose as if it smelled bad.

"Very funny. 'ceptin' ya fell asleep while we was eatin' pizza. I had to clean up yer mess 'n all. Ya snored so loud ya kept me 'wake fer hours."

"So, it was a long day, Kincaid. Actually, I'm plannin' on takin' care of ya, t'night," I laughed.

He smirked. "Just as long as you follow the rules."

"And what rules might they be, Hollywood?" I asked with feigned ignorance.

He rolled his eyes, not replying.

"Ya got some new rule about me not suckin' yer dick?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

He giggled and shook his head. "Ya can do that whenever ya want to. It's cool."

"So you liked getting yer weenie licked?"

"I liked it okay. I'm talkin' 'bout hiney rules."

"Yer hiney rules as fer as ah'm concerned. Anyway, I thought ya liked ma finger in yer hiney," I laughed. Suddenly, I noticed that everyone else was leaving. "Hey, what the fuck Where's everyone goin' Ace?"

"That's what I'm tryin' to tell ya. We're s'posed to suit up," Ty said, jerking my hand again hard enough to injure my elbow joint.

"Oh! What the fuck. He don't waste time, does he?"

We followed the others back into the low flat-roofed building we had passed through when we had arrived. The receptionist was maybe sixteen and she had her hands full as she handed out plastic bags containing brightly colored flame-proof suits and checked off names. As the last people in line, we had to wait for nearly five minutes. My antennae bristled again when she gave me yet another disparaging look. She had not been impressed when we arrived ten minutes late. Her manner left a lot to be desired. For one thing, she chewed gum, a habit I detested. Perhaps she knew how to type, or use a computer or whatever it was that receptionists did when they weren't 'recepting'.

"'xtra large might fit you," she grumbled to me and handed me a bag with a red and black suit inside. "Hm…" she pondered, assessing Ty's size. "Skinny little guy, ain't he? There ain't no way a small men's fittin' him. Anyway, ain't he too young to be drivin'?"

I gave her a sour look that was only matched by Ty's disagreeable expression.

"It's okay. I'll take care of them, Allie," a voice said from behind me.

I turned around to greet Shaw. We shook. He had a strong grip.

"Terry Atkins, right? The infamous sixty-nine, last weekend's hero of nascar? I'm not mistaking you for someone else am I?" he asked as he extended his hand to shake mine.

"Yeah, that's me I reckon. It's a real pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shaw."

"That's Pete from now on, Terry. We're on a first name basis around here. That was quite a race last weekend. And this handsome young man must be Ty Atkins?" he continued, looking past me at Ty. He returned to me. "When I spoke to your pit boss, he said you were bringing your son along."

I swallowed, more like gulped as Shaw shook Ty's hand. My son? It did have a nice ring to it. Still, for a few seconds I was confused. It was unlike Bobbie to mislead someone, not unless he had a good reason. Then, in a flash I realized that he had a very good reason. Only a parent or a legal guardian could sign the all-important waiver forms for Ty to be on a race track. The hand-scrawled paper that Ty's grandmother had given me was hardly enough to qualify me as a friend let alone convince Shaw that I was his legal guardian. I smiled at Ty, hoping that he would play along.

"Usually we don't let kids on the track until they're in their teens," Pete added. "You know, the liability thing and all. Insurance is getting very hard to get even for adults."

"I'll bet you a beer that he's as good a driver as any of them," I said with a deliberate gesture to the few men and teenagers who were going into the change room.

Shaw nodded, although his expression implied he hay yet to be convinced. "Okay. I'll put him in the first-time group and see what he can do. If he can handle a kart then he can drive while you're here. Meanwhile, you'd better sign the forms for him or my lawyer won't sleep for a week."

"I don't have a suit anywhere close to his size, Mr. Shaw," Allie said pointedly, as if that alone should be enough to keep Ty off the track. Apparently, the use of first names extended only to customers and not to employees. She handed me the waiver and a pen with a chewed ragged end.

"Yes, that's true," Shaw agreed. "But I think we can work something out, Allie. I'm thinking he can use one of the small women's suits until tomorrow. I'll bring in one of my kid's that ought to be close to his size. It'll be a bit loose on him, but it's the best we can do at short notice," he added with a querying look at me.

Unless it was pink, as far as I knew there were no differences between men's and women's suits except the small size was a lot smaller for the women's ones.

"That'll work, won't it Ace?"

Ty shrugged with the unwillingness of a preteen boy who had been asked to wear a woman's two-piece bikini bathing suit on a crowded beach. However, he accepted the package he was handed. At least what was inside wasn't pink. Instead, it was pale blue and silver. I almost laughed but I caught Ty's disapproval. I followed him into the change room as the first three of the other attendees emerged, They were loudmouthed, acting as if they were going to drive a nascar race.

I chose a corner where there were still two lockers with the doors open.

"This'll do, Ace," I muttered, dropping the bag on the seat. "You better leave yer shorts on under the suit," I added.

Ty nodded, knowing as I did that he was bare beneath his swim shorts. I surveyed the other people who were climbing into their suits. Most of them were between twenty and forty years old. I knew the type, and it was the reason why I was reluctant to go to the kart-driving school in the first place. Shaw's school was supposed to be a Mecca for performance driving. It was expensive, so expensive that it attracted overpaid Silicon Valley technocrats or executive types from LA who had the money to buy the Porsche 911 Turbos that littered the parking lot. It was highly unlikely that any of their owners knew how to drive their cars the way that they were designed to be driven.

There was one other man who had brought his son along. Going by Shaw's 'have-to-be-a-teenager' standard, he was barely there. He looked like he was no older than twelve. He was good looking and if Ty was not standing beside me taking off his 'wife-beater' shirt, I would have been tempted to do more than look. Although, as I felt that all-too-familiar thrill of the voyeur, anything that I might have wanted to do with him with his father only a few feet away was entirely a matter of conjecture. Needless to say I still looked at him as surreptitiously as I could, watching with what I hoped was detachment as the youth stripped down to his boldly colored boxers. He had a California tan that was almost as dark as Ty's Florida tan. He was lanky, with long thin arms and legs that looked as if his muscles, while not nonexistent, certainly had not seen much exercise. Like most kids his age, he probably spent long hours on the computer, or Gameboy, or whatever it was that provided his entertainment. By contrast, Ty was lithe with well-defined muscles that were surprisingly strong. I had found out just how strong Ty was when we wrestled.

"Ya think he's hot, don't ya?" Ty whispered furtively.

"Who?"

"Him. That skinny kid over there."

"He ain't so skinny."

"Yeah, right. That's like sayin' Bobbie ain't fat. Duh!"

"He's not that bad."

"Yeah. He's got a bod like a broom stick. Ya like sticks more 'n this?"

I glanced at Ty. He was doing a slow strip tease with his 'wife-beater' armless shirt. It dropped to the bench behind him. He pointed to his chest, midway between his nipples.

"I'm puttin' one 'a them tattoos right here when we git back to the room," he said boldly, although his voice was low enough that no one but me could hear.

"Why there?"

"So ya got somethin' to stare at when I take ma shirt off." He sounded jealous.

"Cute. Somethin' amusin' 'sides yer three inch [7½ cm] dick?" I teased.

"Four!"

"In yer dreams, Ace."

I glanced around to make certain that we were not overheard. Other than the father-son duo, we were now alone in the change room. Having Ty's full attention, I held up my first finger.

"That's four inches [10 cm], Ace." Then, I held up my thumb. "And that's you, boy. Ya dick ain't no bigger that's fer sure. See, I'm talkin' three inches [7½ cm], not four."

Ty grinned and promptly sat down on the bench to remove his shoes. Once his shoes were off, he suddenly looked up, crudely craning his neck with the apparent objective of trying to see up my briefs.

"Yeah, I can see what four inches [10 cm] looks like," he cackled gleefully. "It's fat enough, but it's short like yer thumb."

I playfully pushed his head away, producing a loud guffaw.

"Excuse me."

I turned away at the interruption, looking over my shoulder.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I thought I overheard Pete say you're Terry Atkins. You are, aren't you?"

The man started to walk towards us. I nodded. I was not at all sure that I was always going to enjoy my newly acquired celebrity status. I found myself alternating between sitting down on the bench next to Ty trying to get my feet into the legs of my suit, or keep standing there in my briefs. I chose the former, but mostly because I was hoping he would go back and let me get dressed in peace. Plus, with Ty fooling around the way he was, there was no certainty that my penis would remain limp for much longer.

"I'm Pierce. Pierce Heekin."

He announced his name as if I was expected to recognize him. I continued working on getting my feet through the openings in the suit. For a second or two I was aware of Heekin looking at Ty. It was enough to make me glance to the side. Ty already had his feet through his suit and was pulling it up his legs. Damned if there wasn't a nice little bulge in his shorts. He was becoming erect, if it wasn't already there. He seemed to have erections every hour, on the hour. Then, Ty stood up, effortlessly pulling the top part of the suit over his arms. He was dressed already. He made it look easy. With his back to the approaching Pierce Heekin, he gave me a knowing smirk. My eyes darted downwards again. Even with the loose-fitting suit, there was still a bulge, a bulge that was bigger, longer and more pronounced than the boy-bulge that should have been there. He was letting me know that he was aroused, and to prove the point, his penis flexed on command. It was enough to disturb the shiny synthetic cloth.

Still smirking, he slowly drew the zipper up that closed the front of his suit and turned around. The lump was so obvious that Heekin had to have noticed as well. He was only a few feet away when I turned back to him.

"I'm at American Foods, Cereals Division. I'm the V.P. for Marketing."

He said the last word as if I was supposed to bow down and kiss his feet, something I would do only for Ty and then he would have to earn it. From my experience, which was mostly from trying to get sponsorship, saying that you were in marketing was synonymous with saying you were an asshole.

"I've created some of our best programs over the years. A couple really got our cereal line moving. You probably saw the bear ones?"

"Don't think so."

"Big brown bear in pajamas? He was called Woody?"

I returned what Ty called my 'I'm-dumber-than-I-look' expression. It was difficult not too laugh. I heard Ty choking beside me.

"Don't think so."

"You must have seen the ads. The bear chases down campers to get their cereal?" he added seriously.

"Based on real life huh?"

Heekin laughed loudly. "No! At least I don't think so. We even had a line of bear toys for the kids if they sent in twenty box labels."

"That's nice," I replied.

Humor was out of place. I wanted him to leave. However, by then it was too late to stop him. He was close enough for me to shake his hand.

"Goddamn suit!" I grouched. "S'posed to be an extra large, but I swear it's way too small."

"Yes, I know the feeling. Mine's tight too," Heekin agreed. He was persistent.

"I'll be sweatin' like a pig before lunch," I grouched.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Atkins. Do you mind if I call you Terry? We supposed to go by first names. I'm Pierce, by the way," he added as if I had forgotten that he already told me his name.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Pierce, huh." I tried it on for size. It was like calling someone 'puncture' or 'stab'.

"So…"

Pierce took a deep breath and let it out over what seemed to be the next minute. Having crossed the change room to introduce himself, he was reluctant to go back. His son had a bored, resigned expression, the kind of expression that kids have when they feel they are being embarrassed and know they can't do anything to stop it from occurring. Ty had given me the same expression when I suggested buying him a copy of Playboy for the plane trip. That I did it when we were waiting at the counter of the airport bookstore was probably the reason why he was embarassed.

I smiled at the boy across the room with what I hoped was understanding. It had to be difficult to have a father who was an ass-hole.

Heekin turned around and beckoned to his son to come over. "Your boy's name is Tyler right?"

"Uh… well, yeah, but everyone calls him Ty."

"Hi Ty." Heekin stuck his hand out. Ty gave the obligatory shake. "My nephew's name is Brandon by the way." Heekin gestured across the room. "He's shy. He's been racing karts for more than a year now. It's our third time here so I guess we're getting to be old hands. Last time he got a 33.5 lap. Not too bad for a kid who's only just turned twelve. The best I could do was 31 seconds and I've been driving for thirty years."

"Hi Brandon," I called out.

He was a friendly looking boy. Handsome, but not cute like Ty. Dirty blond hair cut in a fashionable style, probably expensive. He was wearing a red and black suit like mine. It was emblazoned with 'Valvoline' and 'Goodyear', free advertising to companies who did not sponsor him. I hadn't noticed any advertising on mine. More than likely, he had brought his own suit. Brandon replied with a vague wave. he did not look shy, merely self-conscious.

"So…" Heekin did the inhale-exhale thing again. "I guess we better get out to the track before all the fast karts are taken. You'll be driving one of the shifter karts, I expect Terry," he continued. "I'm pretty certain I saw Pete give you the nod."

"Na. That'll be Ty's kart," I joked. "Personally, I'm findin' me the slowest one out there and keepin' one foot on the brake. Karts scare the crap outta me."

Heekin looked at me as if I was out of my mind. Then, realizing I was joking, suddenly smiled. "He might be okay at that. He looks like he has the reflexes of a rabbit!"

"Yeah, somethin' like that. A jack rabbit, or somethin', cause he's quick all right. Me, I need to take life slow and steady. Sittin' with ma knees stuck in ma nose and ma butt three inches [7½ cm] offa the blacktop doin' over seventy sure ain't ma idea of fun. 'Course, tha kid ain't got a lick'a sense so he'll love it."

Heekin laughed. He was aggressive and loud-mouthed, but it was hard not to like a man who laughed like that, a laugh that came out like a roar from deep in his belly. However, what he said next took me by surprise. It also made me angry. It was as much as how he said it as what he said.

"You know, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but he's one good looking boy, your son. He could be making good money doing commercials. If not even get into acting," he added as an aside. "He's got what it takes. If he was my kid I'd have him modeling real fast."

"Thanks," I muttered. "Maybe I'll get him an agent."

I was annoyed by his conceited presumptuous attitude. Big words for me, but who was he to say things like that. It was typical of people who worked in marketing. They were always arrogant. It was as if they alone ran the business world and everyone else was there to take orders from them.

"No really, Terry. Let me tell you, your boy would be great at it. I know what I'm talking about. It's coming from personal experience, okay? I've spent the last couple of days reviewing models for our new cereal program. We're looking to spend fifty million this year alone on network television, and its for the all-American boy series."

"No more bears in the woods, huh? That's interesting." My sarcasm went unnoticed.

"Actually we're doing a national campaign both on TV and in magazines, as well as on the cereal boxes of course. The boy we're looking for has to be charming to look at, but not girlish. You know how some boys look like that? Too pretty to grow up to be a real man. Our boy also has to have a face with character. We're looking for a special kid, the kind of boy who'd be eating American cereals while he lives an active life. A kid who's constantly on the go, not afraid of getting into trouble. A risk taker type, because that's what people admire nowadays."

"That's my Ty. A real bundle of energy," I joked.

He regarded me with interest. He probably thought I was serious. "I must say, I've looked at a hundred boys from a dozen agencies and none of them have your boy's looks. Those blue eyes of his are something else. Even the hair is perfect. He's a natural. If you're interested I could have my secretary set up an appointment for you?" He sounded hopeful.

"Thanks but no thanks. See, it sucks big time, but me and Ty travel so much, Pierce. Ya know how it is. nascar's a full time job fer both of us. I keep him real busy helpin' out."

Only when I finished speaking did I glance at Ty. It wasn't that he disagreed with what I said. Over the last 24 hours I had learned enough about him to know that he lived for nascar. The last thing on his mind was a career in modeling or doing cereal commercials. If ever there was a boy who was born to race cars, it was Ty Kincaid. Every time I looked at him I saw Gordon Jeffies. Jeffries had been one year older, all of eleven years old, when I first saw him driving a three horsepower quarter-midget in the National Championships, but he had been born to race, and win. That he was handsome to a fault only made my infatuation worse. There was high octane gas was in Ty's blood as well. Yet, as I looked at him, as I remembered the run-down trailer that he called home, I wondered if I was acting in my best interest instead of his.

"Maybe I'll give it some thought, Mr. Heekin. Pierce, I mean," I muttered.

"Please do, Terry. He's ideal for our all-American boy. Perhaps we can talk about it another time?" Heekin suggested. He sounded increasingly hopeful. He was used to getting his way.

Ty grimaced, making a face that showed what he thought of the idea of doing commercials. I was glad that he chose not to voice his feelings on the subject. Then, suddenly his eyes lit up.

"Ya know what ya oughta be doin' is sponsorin' a car, Mister Heekin." It was impossible to miss the nervous excitement in his voice.

"Pardon?" Heekin replied absently. "I'm sorry. What did you say, Ty?"

"Mr. Heekin, I said you should sponsor a car." His diction was matched only by his politeness. I almost laughed. It was a different Ty to the one I was used to.

"A car?"

"Uh huh. Like as in Nas-car." He nodded eagerly.

"Well, that not something that we do at American, you see Ty. I'm sure it's a good idea, but all of our marketing is channeled to media that reaches a high proportion of our customer base. We have to get value for our marketing dollars."

"Millions of people watch nascar every weekend, Mr. Heekin," Ty said authoritatively. I almost laughed again.

"Maybe I'll give it some thought," Heekin said as he smiled at me.

Ty grinned. "Please do, Mr. Heekin. Perhaps we can talk about it another time." At least, he sounded more sincere than Heekin had sounded.

Heekin laughed again. "That's some boy you've got there Terry."

"Yeah, he's a real handful at times. Ain't that right, Ace? Yer a handful, ain't ya?"

Ty growled menacingly as Heekin turned away. His attitude revealed that he was very aware that I was unimpressed. He sauntered away, heading back to his side of the change room. I watched him go over to where his nephew was waiting for him.

"Nice guy," I said under my breath.

Ty gave me a 'what-you-really-mean-is-he's-an-ass-hole' look. I smiled and went back to getting dressed. Ty made a feeble effort to fold our clothes before shoving them into the lockers. Like me, he was not one for orderliness. His suitcase was proof of that.

"Yer pissed at me ain't ya?" Ty asked after a while.

"Huh?"

"'cause I asked him 'bout sponsorin' us?"

"Nope."

"Yeah ya are."

"Nope."

"It was a real good idea," Ty said defensively. "He just don't get what nascar means to people. Dumb ass-hole!" He looked around to see if heekin overheard him. Not that either of us cared one way or the other.

"Sure it was." I breathed out. "Ty, see, the companies who sponsor cars, – well it's big business fer 'em. The minimum is a million bucks a year, just ta get a decal on a car. Most of 'em pay five to ten times that to get a name driver like Jeffries. It's all set up in company boardrooms. You're talking lawyers and accountants. It all costs big bucks. It ain't in ma league."

"So?"

"So, yer wastin' yer time with him. We'll get a sponsor sooner or later. Don't worry yerself 'bout it."

"Better be sooner than later. 'ccordin' to Bobbie, ya ain't got tha money ta finish the season out."

I scowled, making yet another mental note to tell Bobbie to keep his mouth closed about the finances. It wasn't that I minded Ty knowing that I was running a shoestring operation, or perhaps it was. For some reason I wanted him to think I was successful.

"It's true, ain't it Terry? Yer almost broke?"

"Yeah, it's true," I admitted sullenly. "We're always stretchin' tha money, Ace, but we always make out okay."

Ty frowned. "Ya cain't win unless ya got the money to fit the car out with tha best, Terry," he lectured.

"Not even with balls?" I teased.

"Havin' balls is important, but yer balls ain't all that big, Terry."

We went outside, following Heekin and his lanky nephew across to the pits. It was a fenced area where the rest of the karts were lined up. Shaw had a list that he scanned every so often, making assignments to four different groups. As expected, I went to the advanced group and Ty went to the beginners group. Everyone in his group towered above him. Even Heekin's nephew was a full head taller. Puberty made all the difference in boys at that age.

"Take it easy out there everyone," Shaw said in a loud voice, reprising his earlier advice. "The goal is not to get the best possible time on your first lap. You're going out there to learn the track and the kart. Even those of who you have been here before ought to be taking it easy for the first few laps. It's not a race. There'll be some changes, things you've forgotten. Set the corners up properly. Go easy on the accelerator. We'll start off with the beginners. And remember, you're not racing."

Ty turned and grinned at me. He was ready to get in a kart and go. Finally, he was going to show me what he could do. I winked at him and held up my thumb. To anyone else it was a sign of good luck. It was that, but it was also an indication of size. Ty shook his head, smirking as he lowered himself into his kart. Then, as Shaw's assistants strapped him in and tightened the harness he held up his right hand with four fingers extended and his thumb bent in to his palm. I shook my head and grinned. A few seconds later the engine started with a roar, settling down to a throaty gurgle as it idled. Shaw gave the signal and Ty floored the accelerator. Both the car and Ty were light enough that 17 horsepower could spin the wheels. He left the pits with a loud squeal.

His first lap was a learning experience for both of us. For me, watching Ty on the track by himself for the first time was more unsettling than running at more than two hundred miles per hour [300 km/h] a few feet away from a car driven by a novice. My nervousness persisted despite the fact that Ty evidently had a considerable amount of control over his vehicle. He started out badly, slewing sideways, and then he overcorrected. The little sprint kart leapt away as soon as the tires got traction. It seemed that the slightest movement of the steering wheel could cause the car to twitch erratically. Each time, he tended to overcorrect. Once, perhaps twice, the car almost spun out, but each time Ty managed to get it back on line.

There was a digital clock ticking off the seconds once he passed the start line. The numbers seemed to pass very quickly. He was on the back straight that ran parallel to the beach when the clock entered the twenties. Twenty five by the top corner. He came in too fast and applied the brakes too hard. I smiled. Even from where I was standing, I heard the banshee wail of the little engine as it peaked in a vain attempt to make up for lost time. He swept around the next corner with more control than any of the preceding corners, and then over-corrected at the next bend when he applied too much power again.

37 seconds after passing the start line, he crossed it again. I breathed out in relief, wondering how I could manage to watch him do it again and again over the next few days. Or worse, on a race track. I wondered whether my heart would be able to take the stress. Perhaps that was why my mother had never come to the race track?

On the second lap he managed to reduce the time by almost two seconds. The third lap brought his time down to 34 seconds. Not bad for a rookie, I thought.

"Not bad for a kid on his first time out. Not bad at all," Heekin said remotely.

How long had he been standing beside me?

"Weight's important," I said absently, attentive as Ty negotiated his way past the second kart that had just entered onto the track. "Every pound counts, but in karts it makes the difference between winners and losers. Ty's lucky if he weighs seventy-five [35 kg] fully dressed."

"So Brandon keeps telling me. He's been after me to get him a new shell. Carbon fiber or some such thing. It's the way to go apparently, but it costs a fortune to get one made."

It seemed that Bobbie knew a lot more about karts than I gave him credit for. He had been insistent on fitting a carbon fiber shell to Ty's kart as well. I nodded, watching with stubborn relief as Ty brought the kart back into the pits and killed the engine. He unsnapped the harness buckles and got out before Shaw's assistants came over to help. He bounded across to me.

"High five me, Ace!" I said enthusiastically. "That was so-o-o-o cool, Ty-babe."

He scowled at being called 'Ty-babe', especially in front of other people, but he slapped my hand and grinned at the same time. "Thirty-four ain't too bad fer ma first time."

"Thirty-four was great, dude," I said, cutting him off.

I would have said more, but Brandon was standing next to his uncle. According to Heekin, Brandon's best time after two sessions was 33.5. Another lap or two and Ty would in all likelihood have beaten his best time. There was no point in rubbing it in.

"You were using the throttle too hard," Brandon said expertly. "And you were on the brakes too much. You're supposed to go easy until you get used to the kart."

Ty glanced at the other boy, summing him up.

"I was goin' easy. Ya race karts?" he asked offhandedly.

"I won the junior division at Long beach last month," the other boy answered.

"Ain't never heard of it," Ty scoffed.

Brandon shrugged. He looked past the younger boy dismissing him as insignificant, a bug to be stepped on. He had something of his uncle's demeanor. I hoped it was not contagious.

"It's the big race around here. I'll be racing at Santa Barbara next week. And San Diego too, if I can get Pierce to take me down there."

"Cool! Maybe ya should get outta the pits 'n practice some," Ty said with barely constrained sarcasm.

Brandon shrugged again and swaggered off to the kart that was waiting for him. He was noticeably taller than Ty, but the assistants still had to adjust the harness and seat position. Ty unfastened his helmet, passed it to me and then wiped his fingers over his sweaty forehead before pushing them through his damp hair.

"Man, ah'm sweatin' like you do, Terry."

"Hard work huh?"

"Yeah. Harder than ya think. It like goes where ya point it, and then it's all over the fuckin' place."

Heekin snorted. I wasn't sure if he was laughing or not. It didn't sound as if he was amused. Some people hated to hear kids swear. Me? I was used to it from Ty. It was part of who he was. You either had to accept that he used foul language or go where you couldn't hear him.

"Well, Brandon was right, babe," I said. "Ya was hitting the pedals way too hard, Ty. Goin' fast don't mean goin' stupid. Drive smooth 'n yer gonna pick up even more time."

"Yeah, well wait till ya get out there, old man. It ain't easy like ya think," Ty remonstrated. He was sulking.

"Loosen up. Ya did just fine, Ace," I explained. "Yer aimin' for smooth but fast. Drivin' a car too hard just breaks it apart."

"Are you going to get that 25 the first time so we can all have a beer on Shaw, Terry?" Heekin asked cynically.

I shrugged. Ty deliberately glanced down to my crotch. It was as suggestive a look as I had ever received.

"Ya get that 25, Terry, and I'll be drinkin' some 'a that beer," he murmured.

"You're up next, Terry," Shaw called out. "Just as soon as the sprints are off the track. You're in number 15 if you want to go ahead and get set up."

Ty and I ambled across to where the shifter karts were lined up. Number 15 was the first one. The tires were soft slicks, ideal for a dry hot track. Disk brakes were on all four wheels, so it would stop when and where it was supposed to. I handed Ty's helmet back to him and eased down into the cramped seat. There was not a lot of room. The steering wheel seemed like it was too high, right in my face. The pedals were too close so my knees had to stick out. I would be driving Italian style but without the straight-arm position. The engine fired on the first attempt. I played with the throttle trying to gauge its sensitivity while I was being buckled up.

"You got it, Terry. Take her out when you're ready," Shaw shouted in my ear.

I let the engine speed build up slowly. Not that there was a problem with it, but because Bobbie had trained me never to over stress the engine unnecessarily. With my excess weight and the judicious application of accelerator the kart moved out of the pits without wheel spin. The tires on the car I usually drove were expensive and had to be treated with respect. I passed the start line at a speed about fifty percent of what should have been the case. I went through my routine, the plan of attack that I followed the first time I was on a track, or any track that I was not used to. As usual, I talked my way through the course. Sometimes it was to help me remember. More often than not, my running commentary on the two-way radio kept Bobbie amused.

"Concentrate, you idiot Atkins. Get the feel of the car. Remember it so you know what to expect. God, it's so fucking sensitive. The steering wheel feels a bit like Ty's dick. It's got a life of its own. Got to remember to tell him that. The kart handles okay though. Make that great. Let's see what it can do. Push it into the corner. Fucking bitch! So that was what Ty meant. Too easy to over-correct. But it sticks like glue. That's good! Keep calm next time. Get the speed up again. It's not going to flip on me. Next curve coming up. That's a lot better. Done with the corners at the bottom of the track. That was cool. Like driving a Formula One. Remember to come in tight next time around. Okay, one lap down. Let's see what she can do if I push it."

Later, Ty told me that my first lap time was 35.3 seconds. The second lap was just under 30 seconds, and the third lap was as he put it, 'a speck under 25 and a half.' He didn't know that the lap timer built into the shifter told me it was 25.4 seconds.

"Great job, Terry," Shaw acknowledged when I pulled the kart back into the pits and killed the engine. "You almost pulled it off a 25 on the last lap."

"The throttle's stickin' a mite, Pete," I remarked. "I was tryin' to go slower."

Shaw laughed. "By the time we finish with you you'll be pulling low twenties every lap. Did you ever think about racing karts instead of nascar?"

"Nope. Ty's goin' to be the kart-jockey," I answered as I struggled to get out of the cramped seat. "I got ma work cut out in keepin' up with him."

Like a playful puppy, Ty bounded over and hugged me. It was the first time that he showed any affection for me in front of other people, Bobbie excepted. It felt good to have his arms locked around me, his face burrowing into my chest, his shoulders held under my arm. Boys like Ty were built to hug. He was just the right size.

"You were awesome, Terry," Ty said softly.

I grinned. I could tell he was impressed. "I was okay. You was the awesome one, Ace."

"I thought ya was goin' to do it. Just a half-second off, Terry. It's like nuthin'. Half a second."

"Yeah, the only trouble with that, Sport, is that races are won and lost by even less than that," I replied. "Sorry about missin' the beer, though."

"Yeah, well, you still done great, Terry." He sounded impressed. He glanced to the side. "That Heekin guy over there. Man, what an ass-hole. He was makin' fun a yer the first two laps, but he shut up real fast on the last one."

"While we're waitin', let's go talk about the track."

We ambled off to find a place where we could see the track. I wanted to talk with him before his instructor did. In the space of five minutes I went over the track with Ty. He had good instincts and an even better memory. I was impressed by his conclusions. Some drivers never understood how to take advantage of the track. He had already decided how he would drive the next time around.

"That Heekin guy looks at me like you do," he announced as we stood up to stretch our legs before joining our respective groups.

"Huh?"

"He looks at me weird."

"I look at you weird?" I asked, making the logical connection.

"Yeah."

"Weird? Now, what in hell does that mean?" I was suddenly curious.

"Duh! I dunno." He shrugged ambivalently. "It's hard to explain. Just weird, okay?"

"That's helpful."

Ty gave me his 'boy-are-you-dumber-than-a-rock' look.

"This sounds stupid but, well, – it's like ya want to eat me and yer tryin' ta figure out what part ta eat first."

"I already know," I laughed. "I'm startin' off with breakfast."

"Huh?"

"Sausage and two eggs. Of course, I'm followin' up with some boy-butt."

Ty rolled his eyes. "You gotta one track mind, Terry."

"Yeah, don't I. And ya love it too, Hollywood. Ya live ta be teased."

"Maybe," Ty admitted cautiously. "Maybe yer just a dirty old man like 'im."

"Huh? Whose a dirty old man?"

"That Heekin guy. That's why he was givin' me tha look, Terry."

"Yer kiddin'?"

"He's into boys like you. I bet ya anything."

"Hm, how about bettin' yer butt?" I teased.

"Like how? Yer finger?"

"I was thinkin' of somethin' bigger."

"Jesus. Ya never give up, do yer? I keep tellin' ya, there ain't nuthin' that big ever going up there."

Still, he smiled, ambling beside me as we wandered around the parking lot. The banshee wail of the karts on the track died away leaving a sudden silence.

"I guess we better be gettin' back fer instruction," Ty said.

"Heekin really looks at ya like I do?"

I was perturbed by the possibility that another man was attracted to Ty. Equally disturbing was the fact that Ty had been sexually aroused in front of him. How had Heekin interpreted that?

"Duh! Ya blind or somethin'?"

"No."

"Anyways, ya looked at his kid tha same way."

"Well, his nephew is kind of cute."

"Ya mean hot, don't ya Terry?" Ty chided.

I was not about to say that I found another boy to be interesting. He was certainly not in Ty's league, not even remotely close to being included in the 'drop-dead-gorgeous' category, but he did have that certain something that attracted me. Instead, I shrugged vaguely. Another dozen paces brought us back to the pit area.

"I'll keep an eye on him, okay?" I said to Ty as much as a warning to myself.

"I can take care of me," Ty said pointedly.

"I'm sure ya can, Ace."

"Ya figure they's like us, don't ya Terry?"

"You mean?"

Ty grinned and nodded.

"I reckon I ain't the only man alive who likes boys," I replied softly. "And ya probably ain't tha first boy whose got the hots for an older guy either, Ace."

Ty gave an exasperated sigh that was as fake as it could be. I laughed and swatted his butt, then stood and watched as he headed off to join his group, most of who had gathered around one of the instructors.

"Hey, Terry. After class finishes this afternoon, Brandon and I are going down to the beach. I was wondering if your and, er… Ty, right, would like to join us?"

"Huh?"

I turned around. Heekin had a bad habit of sneaking up on a person and then speaking when he was inches away. I had been looking forward to spending some 'quality' time, meaning sex, with Ty. However, I was about to learn that once a person had been cornered by Heekin it was impossible to escape.

"Um, well, see, Ty brought his swim shorts with him, but I don't have my stuff," I muttered in a feeble excuse.

"Not a problem. I've got a couple of spare towels in my trunk. There's an extra pair of shorts too, if I remember correctly."

"Well, that's real nice of yer, Pierce," I explained. "But…"

"I won't take no for an answer," Heekin interjected. "It's decided. We'll let the boys surf for an hour or two and I've got a six pack of Fosters in my cooler. We can hang out. I sound more and more like Brandon. That boy's a bad influence on me. But I guess you're used to that with Ty."

"He's cool," I agreed.

"Then, it's a plan. We can go to Cafe Jack's for some dinner afterwards. It'll be my treat."

Only then did I realize the problem that I had gotten myself into. With my credit cards maxed out, and no cash in my pocket, I would have a difficult job putting food on the table for the next day or two. It would take that long until Bobbie reached Asheville and paid the credit card bills, and that was assuming the check would clear from Daytona. The way things stood, I would have difficulty buying dinner even if we ate at McDonalds.

"Damn," I groaned.

"Pardon? Look if you really don't want to, Terry, I don't mind. I just thought the boys would enjoy it. Brandon gets lonely. There's no one else his age and…"

"Oh! I'm sorry, Pierce. I didn't mean nuthin' like that. I was thinkin' of somethin' else. Me 'n Ty, well we would love it."

"Great! We'll finish at 3.00 sharp, if they stay on schedule that is. Let's all meet here."

"Sure," I said agreeably. It was nice to think that dinner had been taken care of. I could even put up with Heekin if it meant that he paid.

The funny thing was that I learned a lot that first day, and not just about driving karts. To start with, Pete was a good teacher, and like a good teacher he made you aware of what you didn't know by encouraging discovery. I began to rethink how I drove a race car. The key was in being smooth and precise. That meant planning in advance, but also developing the ability to anticipate what might happen on the track and to know what to do when it did happen. That day, over a five hour period, I completed 45 laps, a total of less than 20 minutes on the track. It seemed like a lifetime. I analyzed, replayed, re-analyzed. I did it until my head was throbbing, until I was unable to think of anything except what I was doing incorrectly. I began to realize how little I really knew about driving.

I sweated profusely, and as the day grew hotter, the beach looked better and better. Over lunch, Ty told me that his best time so far was 32 seconds. I was impressed. He was driving a seventeen horsepower sprint kart, after all. Of course, I was well aware that weight make a big difference with karts. Next to me, Ty weighed next to nothing, well a third to be exact. The next heaviest person in the entire group was Brandon and there was probably thirty pounds [15 kg] difference between the two of them. Ty would have a big advantage up to the time he started the growth spurt that boys go through at puberty. Unless there were other boys his size racing, he would be difficult to beat. With sweat dripping from him, he liked the idea of spending the rest of the afternoon at the beach.

Like me, he had also learned a great deal. But, there was more.

"Brandon's funny," he announced as we chewed our sandwiches, courtesy of a vending machine that we had passed on the way from the motel.

"Yeah, and his dumb-ass uncle's a laugh a minute," I answered.

Ty licked his lips. He had picked the 'turkey delight' which was mostly lettuce. What I could see of the turkey, it was grey and as thin as a sheet of paper.

"I'm not talkin' funny ha-ha," he responded.

"Funny as in like weird?"

"Yeah."

"Seems to me that accordin' to Ty Kincaid, everyone's weird," I said flatly. "So how's he weird?"

Ty gave me another 'dumber than a rock' look.

"'cause he is…" He pursed his lips thoughtfully, pushing his fingers through his damp hair. The helmet had pushed it down.

"That's helpful."

Ty grinned. "Well fer one thing, he knows how to drive real good, Terry. But he don't go all that fast. Me, I don't know near as much, but I'm getting' better times."

Ty's best time was already half a second faster than Brandon's, and according to Heekin, his nephew was supposed to be one of the best junior drivers in the region. I wondered if Ty knew that. He had not been around when Heekin told me.

"That's because ya got balls, Ace. Small ones maybe, but they're still balls."

Ty smirked. "Well, it ain't that, Terry. Brandon's got balls too, n' they're way bigger than mine."

"Now, how do you know that, Hollywood?" I teased.

"'cause we went to the can a while ago 'n he showed me. He's got some hairs around his dick too, but they're real hard ta see."

"Ya checked him out pretty good, huh? It sounds like ya did more than sneak a peak."

Ty shrugged, then slowly smiled. "Yer fuckin' jealous!"

"Yeah, like I'm jealous of Brandon."

He laughed. "Ya wanna know somethin' else?"

"Okay."

Ty smirked. "He's got a real big dick, Terry. It's huge. It's not as big as yers or nuthin' like that, but he's got that skin hangin' off tha end."

"Uncut, huh?"

Ty nodded and opened his sandwich to examine what was between the two pieces of bread. He shook his head in disbelief. "Turkey fuckin' delight, it ain't," he complained.

"Yeah, well I didn't do no better with the 'Roast Beef Bonanza'." I chewed and swallowed. "So what makes him weird?"

Ty didn't answer immediately. His answer was hardly what I expected, or perhaps it was.

"See, I would'a showed him mine anyways. Ya know how it is. One guy shows his dick first, and then the other guy does the same 'cause it's only fair."

"And?" I prompted.

"Before I could pull it out, he said he'd give me five bucks ta show him."

"Huh? He wanted to give you five bucks to see yer weenie?" I asked.

Ty nodded matter-of-factly. If I expected to see embarrassment I was talking to the wrong boy.

"And?"

Ty reached into his vest pocket and extracted a crumpled up five dollar bill. "I would'a done it for nuthin', ya know Terry, 'cause it was ma turn 'n all. But I wadn't about to give it back once he give it to me."

"He just wanted to see yer boy-dick? He didn't want to touch ya or mess with ya?" I asked nervously.

"Jesus, Terry, what do ya think I am? Some kinda hooker or somethin'? I ain't like that. I ain't foolin' around with no one fer money."

He sounded upset, not angry but disappointed I could say such a thing. He seemed to be saying that he was being faithful to me, or perhaps that was what I wanted to hear.

"Sure, ya like girls and everythin'," I said cynically.

"It ain't that." Now, he sounded irritated.

"Don't be takin' offense, Ace," I said hastily. "I don't want no one messin' with ma boy if he don't want to be messed with."

"It's okay."

We sat in silence, consuming our sandwiches, watching the surf break along the beach.

"Did he say anythin' about his uncle?" I asked after a while.

"Like what?"

"Shit, I don't know. What we was talkin' 'bout earlier?"

Ty shook his head. "Ya think he's a fag?" he asked curiously. "

"Who knows, Ace?" I pondered. "Cal'fornia's 'sposed to be full of 'em."

They were sitting in the bleachers, as we were. The bleachers were set up overlooking the track with the ocean as backdrop so they enjoyed the view as well as getting what little breeze happened along. However, unlike us, they had chosen to sit close to the pits. I was tired of breathing gasoline fumes and chose a position where we were as far as possible from the pits.

"He don't look like one," Ty observed. "Least ways no more 'n you or Bobbie do."

"I ain't a fag," I rebuked. "I got a bad case of boy love, that's fer sure, but that's all it is."

"I figured yer different to Bobbie 'cause he only likes men."

"Dumb-ass. He don't know what he's missin'." I grinned at Ty. "There ain't nuthin' cuter than a ten-year-old with a three inches [7½ cm] dick."

He ignored my comment.

"So how much do ya reckon one 'a them shifters costs, Terry?"

"No idea. Set up properly, they're probably getting' close to ten thousand."

"Shit! That much?"

"Ya wouldn't get much change I reckon."

"They're cool," Ty said wistfully. "I wish I had one."

"The one I got ain't much better than them sprints yer drivin'. Why don't ya wait until ya see what Bobbie does to yers?"

Ty stretched and yawned. The sun was having a similar effect on me and I followed with a yawn of my own. For a trailer-park kid Ty had remarkably good teeth. From what I had seen, he was less than earnest about brushing unless I reminded him, but that went with the territory. All kids were like that. The only explanation that I could come up with was that he didn't get much candy.

"He's sittin' awfully close to his uncle," I observed.

In fact, Heekin and his lanky nephew were sitting so close that it would have been difficult to separate them with the slice of meat from Ty's 'turkey delight'.

"Maybe he's cold?" Ty joked.

"Yeah right. It's just us sweltering up here by ourselves, Ace."

"I think he's feelin' him up," Ty remarked with amusement.

"Huh? Who's feelin' who up?" I sat up.

"Look at 'em, Terry. Ya cain't see his uncle's left arm," Ty said. "And he's using his right hand to eat with."

"It don't mean he's playin' with Brandon's dick."

"I bet ya he is, though. Five bucks says he's gettin' him off!"

I laughed. "I don't have five bucks to bet with, Ace. Between me 'n you, I'm flat broke 'til Bobbie pays tha bill on tha credit card."

"Ya gotta get a sponsor, Terry," Ty lectured. "There ain't no way the team can depend on ya otherwise."

"Tell me somethin' I don't know, Ace. Shit, but I've tried. We ain't the type to get picked up by the big corporations. I've met with 'em all. They ain't interested. One of 'em even said we ain't professional enough. Fuck 'em! I ain't wearin' some suit 'n tie just to please some bunch of assholes."

Ty gave me a long thoughtful look. "Ya got what it take ta win. Ya just ain't tried the right approach. Yer car is way faster, 'cept for a few of 'em that is, and yer a way better driver than most of 'em."

"You ain't wrong." I smiled. Ty made me feel proud. "Sometimes, it just comes down to luck, Ty. Now that we got ya on board we'll start winnin' some races."

He did not appear to be convinced. Suddenly, he stopped chewing and shook his head.

"What's up, Ace?"

"Ya ever figure maybe yer doin' somethin' wrong 'n ya don't realize it till someone tells ya?" he pondered.

"That makes a lot of sense. Give me an example of somethin'."

"Well, like how ya look to a sponsor fer one thing? Ya gotta understand what they're lookin' fer, Terry."

"So why don't ya tell me."

I wanted to sound patient. He was on the team, and the way I ran the team, that was enough to give him the right to voice an opinion. Still, it was difficult. Trying to find a sponsor had been an exercise in frustration.

"No need to get sarcastic," Ty chided. "Okay. Here's what I think. They're lookin' fer a team that looks good, right, even if they don't win?"

"Why would they do that?"

"Well… I dunno. Maybe, well, it sounds dumb, but they're big companies ain't they? So they're run by lawyers and accountants and stuff."

"Yeah. Most of 'em are like that. Some's got what's called an MBA. They all look the fuckin' same that's fer sure."

"Okay, see, I think yer hit it right on tha head. They're lookin' fer someone like 'emselves."

"Why?"

"Cause that's all they know," Ty suggested hopefully.

"Well, there's only one problem with that, Ty. See, I done tried it already. I done the whole suit and tie thing and it didn't work worth a damn."

Ty was crestfallen and I regretted what I said instantly. Then, he shook his head.

"It ain't just the fuckin' clothes, Terry. It's fuckin' everythin'."

"Yeah, like what smart ass?" I realized I sounded as churlish as he did.

"Well, fer one thing, it's how we talk."

"It ain't me who's sayin' 'fuck' every other word," I chided.

"Yeah, but ya ain't no different other than that. Listen to yerself, Terry. We both sound like a coupla dumb hicks. It's like people think we don't have no brains 'cause of how we talk."

It struck me suddenly that not only was he correct, but that Bobbie had been trying to tell me the same thing for the last year. It had been Bobbie's idea that I wear a suit and tie to the meetings with potential sponsors. He had even suggested that I 'clean up my act'. Unfortunately, he had not been specific.

"Yeah, ya may be right, I 'spect," I grumbled.

Ty nodded. "Ms. Delaware, she's always tellin' me ta speak proper. It's not like I'm ignorant."

"Who's she?"

"One of ma teachers. I think she likes me," Ty volunteered shyly. "She got real worried when I got sick."

"Sick? How?"

"It weren't nuthin' Terry. I was gettin' bad headaches fer a while. She took me to her doctor to make sure I was okay. What I'm sayin' is she always told me to talk smart otherwise people thought yer was dumb."

"Yeah, I can see what a great impact she had," I said sarcastically.

Ty returned a caustic look. He cleared his throat. "It's not that I can't talk properly," he said with careful enunciation. "It's because I'm trying to fit into my culture." He smirked. "Um, what was it that she used to make me say, I remember. The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain."

"Yeah, you and me both, Ace," I said trying to mimic his voice but losing it when my bass could not match his unbroken voice.

He laughed. "So say it, Terry. The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain."

"Jesus! The fuckin' rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain."

"That's fucking, Terry, not fuckin'," Ty guffawed.

"Okay, ya made yer point," I grumbled.

He shook his head, mocking me with his bright eyes. "You still sound like a good ole boy. Say it properly, Terry."

"Jesus. Okay, you made your point, Ace."

"See you can do it if you try. Now…" Ty grinned slyly, thinking. I wondered what was going though his head.

Okay, I got it," he said softly, too confidently for comfort.

"Okay, what?"

"Here's the deal. If you want to keep messing around with me, you have to promise to keep trying."

"What?"

"You heard me, Terry."

I don't get it."

"Okay, I'll spell it out for you." He took a deep breath. The look on his face was hardly reassuring. "If you want to play with my dick you have to speak properly." He smirked and cupped his hand over his groin.

"That's it?" I asked testily.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Uh huh. See, I figure that if you want more of this, you'll try really hard."

"I'll try," I laughed. "But only because I love playin' with yer teenie weenie."

He rolled his eyes. We both knew that I would never stop teasing him about the size of his penis. It wasn't even that small, not compared to other boys his age, but I knew that it annoyed him.

"Promise?"

"I promise. I'll try to do better."

If I sounded sincere, it was because I was sincere. It wasn't simply an excuse to play with his penis. With a little effort on my part, and some luck, I could do that whenever I wanted. Part of me enjoyed being under his control.

Ty giggled. "Okay. If you try real hard for the entire day, Terry, I'll let you play with him for thirty minutes each night."

"An hour," I demanded. Half an hour was unreasonable.

"Okay, an hour then," Ty agreed.

"But for the whole day?" I was good at negotiation. "Even when we're alone?"

Ty considered that for a few seconds. "Okay. Whenever we're around other people ya got to do it."

"What about when we're alone, like now?"

He smirked. "You've only got to try."

"You get whatever you want, don't you?"

He shrugged coolly.

"What do I have to do for a go at yer… your ass?" I asked, laughing.

"I already told you," Ty replied haughtily. "You win one of the nascar series and you get to do it. Then, you whatever you want to with me."

"Anything?"

"Everything," Ty said seriously. "Whatever you want."

***

I didn't see Ty again until the classes ended at 3.30 p.m. The strange thing was that I was so busy that I didn't give him more than a few moments of thought, not until I climbed out of the kart for the last time and saw him standing with his hands on his hips talking authoritatively to Brandon. I wandered through the pits, stopping only to tell Shaw that I thought I had learned a great deal that day.

"I watched you on that last lap and you were over-steering like crazy," Ty admonished as Brandon went off to find his uncle. "Your kart was going all over the place on the top curves, Terry."

Suddenly, he had become the expert, but he was also correct in his observation. I scratched the back of my sweat-dampened neck and opened the zipper of the suit to find cooler air.

"It weren't… wasn't that bad. It just got a bit twitchy for a while," I joked.

"Well, I figured it cost you a good second."

"Did you? Hm, a whole second indeed," I challenged. "I didn't think it was that bad."

"Maybe two seconds."

I laughed. "You didn't see my time by any chance, Ace?"

Ty quickly glanced at the digital timer, but my last lap time had disappeared. He inclined his head, wondering why I had mentioned the lap time.

"What was it?" he sounded less confident.

"21.4."

"21.4," Ty repeated. He almost said 'fuck'. His mouth stayed open. "No way," he muttered. "No way you got a 21.4."

I nodded. "Yep."

"But that's…"

"A new track record," I finished. "That's what Shaw just told me. He was pretty impressed. I was pushing it a bit harder than I intended at the end so the tail flicked out on me a few times. It would have been fun to get it under 21."

"Wow!"

I smiled. "So are you ready to go fer a swim, Ace. Okay, don't say it. I should have said 'go for a swim'."

Ty grinned. "I bin thinkin' a' nuthin' but swimmin' fer hours."

We laughed together. "Well let's go get outta these fuckin' things," I said cheerfully. "God-damn sweat boxes."

I opened the front zipper of the race-suit as far as I dared. It felt a lot better immediately. Ty's suit was also open at the front, the zipper nearly at his navel. I reveled in the sight of brown smooth skin.

The plan was to meet up with Heekin and his nephew in the parking lot. They were waiting for us complete with an armful of beach towels, a mid-sized cooler, and a pin-tail surfboard.

"You guys come prepared for anything, I see," I said.

Heekin winked, fondly putting his arm around Brandon's shoulders. "When you have a boy hanging around I've found it pays to be prepared."

I was uncertain of what he meant by that, but I smiled anyway. It seemed rude not to show amusement because the two of them obviously thought it was funny. Ty offered to carry the towels, leaving me without anything to carry, which was okay by me. Unfortunately, the spare shorts that Heekin had been intending to loan me and that were supposed to be in the trunk had been left in the hotel room.

The foot-trodden path to the beach followed a circuitous route from the parking lot, meandering beside the track for some of the distance until it reached the dunes. Then, it seemed to have no purpose other than to maximize the distance traveled. It had not looked that far when we had seen the waves breaking on the beach from our vantage place in the bleachers. I was close to giving up and calling the entire proposition a mistake when we emerged from behind a grass-covered sand dune to confront a long expanse of beach. In either direction, and for as the eye could see, the beach was deserted. With a loud whoop, Ty and Brandon galloped off towards the surf.

"Just the way I like it. You couldn't get a better day and there's not a soul to get in your way. That's the advantage of coming on a weekday," Heekin said. He placed the cooler on the sand. "Sometimes, it's so quiet after the kart school ends that Bran and I skinny dip."

I shrugged and pretended to be disinterested. I was anything but disinterested for the simple reason that I could not think of anything that I would rather do with Ty. Bobbie was adamant that my imagination left a lot to be desired sometimes, but it was not difficult to imagine frolicking in the Pacific Ocean with him. I could picture it clearly amid the brilliantly blue water and white foam, a lean brown boy by the name of Ty Kincaid who lived to have fun Then, my fantasy took a different direction. When we were cooled off we would go back behind the sand dunes to find a place where it was private and the surf was a distant roar. I could see him stretched out naked on the sand, his body flecked with glistening grains, with tiny beads of sweat, his sex standing straight up, hungry for my touch.

"You want a beer, Terry. You certainly earned it on the last lap."

My fantasy came to an abrupt end. I laughed and took the can he was offering. Although I was used to spending hours in the heat in pits of race tracks across the country, it had still been a hard day. A long draft of icy cold ale was exactly what I needed to restore my energy.

Heekin spread out a towel and shed his shirt. He was not in much better condition than I was, although earlier he had talked about working out for an hour day doing something called 'spinning'. I knew it had something to do with riding a bicycle, although I was not sure what. If his physique was the end result of an hour of exercise every day, I could not see the point.

"Your son's been on a surfboard before I see," Heekin said admiringly after I had settled down beside him.

Ty was about a hundred yards away, crouched low as the board surged diagonally along the face of a wave. One slender suntanned arm was pointed ahead, the other seeming to be tucked up behind him. He seemed to have a good sense of balance even as the breaking wave caught up to him and then submerged the board in a flurry of foam. By then he was only a dozen paces from the sand. If Ty had told me that he could ride a surfboard, I probably would not have believed him.

"Huh? Yeah, I see what you mean," I said proudly. I waved to Ty and he waved back before picking up the board and heading back to where Brandon was waiting for him.

"He's good."

"Growing up in Florida, I guess he learned how to ride a surfboard."

Heekin nodded. "I bought the board a year ago for Brandon when he started coming out to my beach house on the weekends. I have a place on the beach at Malibu," he added.

I felt a twinge on envy. I did not have much that I could call my own. Almost everything I owned had been sold to pay for the car and the team's expenses. The sad thing was that it would have been nice to have somewhere of my own where I could take Ty.

"Brando's only just started standing up. That boy of yours is quite something."

I turned, raising my eyebrow. "Yeah, he is that."

Heekin nodded. "Did you give any more thought to what we talked about earlier?"

"You mean about him modeling?"

"It would be more than modeling. There's some of that, of course-. I mean if he got the AFC work."

"AFC?"

"Sorry. American Foods Corp. The marketing strategy calls for an all-American boy."

"Yeah, so you said."

"He's ideal. He has the perfect face. He's very good looking but not at all girlish. Very photogenic!"

I sipped the beer, savoring the taste even though the can was rapidly getting warm. Other than putting it back in the cooler there was no way to keep it cool.

"I tried to get Brandon the role," Heekin continued. "No way would his mother go for the idea."

"That's a pity. He's a real cute kid."

Heekin glanced at me, trying to decide it I was being sincere.

"Yeah," he said agreeably. "He's cute alright, but he still wasn't right for the job. He doesn't have what your boy has."

"What's that?"

"Hm… it the trade we call it that certain something. If he was older, I'd say sex appeal."

"So what you're looking for is a sexy All-American boy?"

Heekin did the belly laugh I enjoyed. "I wouldn't put it that way, but if you've ever taken a good look at what makes for a successful model, that's really what it mostly comes down to. Of course, I could say that to my boss."

"Why not?"

Again, the belly laugh. It was enough to suggest he was becoming inebriated. From what I had observed so far, he drank heavily, almost as much as I did. However, some, perhaps most of that could be explained by the heat, that came from above as much as from the seared sand beneath our towels.

"By the way, seeing that you son's so good in a kart we would probably feature that in some of the commercials. It'd be a whole new approach. Plus he can surf, and I know we can use that." he was still trying his best to convince me.

I shrugged, somewhat amused because I could not help thinking what Heekin would say if he knew that Ty was also wonderful in bed.

"It's been impossible to find the right person for the job," Heekin went.

He talked regardless that seldom responded. I was watching Ty, who was watching Brandon do a less than spectacular ride. Suddenly a wave crashed about him so that he stood waist deep in water, resisting against the ocean as it swirled around him.

"He has a nice body," Heekin said quietly, echoing my thoughts exactly. As if he suddenly realized what he had said, he continued, "He's in excellent shape, I mean. He's even got himself a nice little six-pack!"

"Yeah, well I make him do 50 sit-ups every morning you see. He can already bench-press 200. Most of it comes from carrying gearboxes around."

Heekin guffawed. "I try to get Brandon to get fit. He's too skinny. He probably has half the muscles that your boy has. You know, Brandon and I do a lot of outdoor things, but it's only on the weekends. Some of it is his build, of course, but he spends most of his time in front of his computer. It's not good for him, but his mother doesn't seem to care. If it wasn't for me he'd never get off his butt."

"I'm not sure if Ty would know what a computer was if it hit him in the head. He sure don't,doesn't own one. In fact, to be honest with you, I've never used one myself."

"Ha, I don't believe that for a minute. Don't you nascar drivers use high tech equipment?"

"That's true. My mechanic does some stuff on his laptop and I see reports after the race. They're helpful and all, but life was a lot simpler without them. Anyway, don't ask me what Bobbie does to get them though."

Heekin laughed. "It's a changing world, Terry. Get that boy a laptop of his own as soon as you can. Brandon even uses his to do things for his kart. He was showing me some of the carbon fiber panels available for his kart only last night."

And so the conversation went. The boys surfed and Heekin and I talked. We talked fast cars and boys. Heekin seemed to bring up the latter subject with unnerving frequency. Not that I didn't like talking about boys because I did, but it was almost as if he could read my thoughts as I watched Ty and occasionally Brandon. I noticed that Ty was doing his best to give the older boy pointers on how to ride the surfboard, but Brandon's response was much like Ty's had been when Brandon had pointed out some of the problems with his driving style. There seemed to be a friendly rivalry between them, as if they were competing for something but neither of them was quite sure what it was.

We were well into our second beers when the boys took a break from surfing and came to join us.

"If you're thirsty there's plenty of drinks in the cooler, Ty," Heekin said. "Help yourself to something you like."

Ty ambled over to the cooler and used his foot to flip the lid open. To me, he looked like a gymnast as he balanced on one foot and studied the contents of the cooler.

"How about a beer, Mr. Heekin?" he called back to Pierce.

"That's okay by me, but you'll have to ask your dad," Heekin answered as he followed Brandon down to the beach.

I laughed and shook my head, suspecting that Ty could quaff a can as fast as I could. I also had my suspicions about Heekin and Brandon. Not that they weren't uncle and nephew, because they were obviously related, but I wondered about the nature of their relationship. It seemed highly unlikely that they were having sex. I mean what are the chances of meeting another man-boy couple? I had heard a lot about gay California, but still. It was also our first day. A thousand to one? More like a million to one.

NEXT PART