Ganymede

69

Chapters 10b-12a

Chapter 10, cont'd

"So can I have a brew?" Ty asked boldly.

"Yeah. Get yerself one them special brewed cokes, Ace. It says 'caffeine free right there on tha side."

Ty shook his head slightly, suddenly disinterested. He used his foot to flip the lid of the cooler back down. He moved so that he stood over me, dripping water.

"Ain't ya going for a swim, Terry?" he asked. There was nothing in his voice to suggest disappointment. I was glad he had a short memory. Like me, he had resorted to speaking the way he was used to.

I shook my head. "I didn't bring my shorts, remember?"

"The water's great."

"I'm sure it is. It can wait till tomorrow. Yer pretty incredible on that surfboard, Ace."

"Thanks." He smiled weakly, looking down at me. "I used ta have one, Terry. A good one too, a pin-tail just like Brando's. I saved forever ta get it, but then I sold it ta get stuff for tha kart."

"That sounds familiar," I lamented. "Sometimes I wonder if racin' is worth the effort."

"It is," Ty said confidently. "Yer gonna start winnin' races soon. I just know it."

"Hey, I gotta say, that sure sounds better when you don't sound like some ass-hole from up north. There ain't nuthin' beats a good ole boy. 'Yer gonna start winnin' races'," I quoted him and laughed.

Ty grinned. "Just so's we talk right when we ain't alone. Ms. Delaware would be prouder than hell that we're even tryin'… trying."

"Yeah. If I keep it up, I get to do anything I want, right?" I teased. It was difficult to imitate Heekin's West Coast accent.

Ty laughed. "Yeah, but only when ya win, ya get that. All yer getting' tonight is yer hand on ma weenie, fer an hour. I'm gonna time ya too."

"Damn!"

"So what was you and dick-head talkin' about?"

"Dick-head?"

"Well he is!" Ty grinned. "He sounds just like one a them dumb asses on the phone tryin' ta sell ya some shit ya don't fuckin' need."

"We was talkin' cars mostly. He's in love with that Porsche a his. He's got one a them Turbos too, but he brung that one 'cause of it's convertible. It was Porsche this and Porsche that."

Ty shrugged. "Yeah, well lawn mowers are air-cooled too, ain't they? All you guys talked 'bout was cars?"

"Mostly, like I said. And he talked about ya doing commercials fer his cereals again. He must have said a dozen times that you was perfect or ideal. Somethin' like that. He got really excited when he seen ya on tha surfboard."

"He thought I was okay on tha board?"

"Okay? No, yer awesome, dude. Hell, I was impressed and I don't know shit about surfin'."

"Brandon is pretty good on it."

"Maybe. Yer much better if ya ask me."

He grinned proudly. "Ms. Delaware used to say flattery will get ya no where, but compliments will usually get ya somewhere."

"Maybe. I guess it depends on where ya want ta go, Ace?"

"Hm… I think I know where I want to go…" He paused, casting his eyes along the beach before he turned back. "How about somewhere quiet?" he said softly.

"Quiet?"

"Like where no one can see us. Like them fer starters," Ty said suggestively, gesturing vaguely towards Pierce and Brandon.

"Why?"

"Duh! Like I'm hot… ya know… as in h-o-t!" he said hesitantly.

He glanced down again, meeting my eyes on the way. Heekin was right about Ty's 'six pack'. The boy had better developed abdominal muscles than a lot of teenagers. However, if Ty was trying to suggest by 'h-o-t' that he was sexually aroused, there was no sign of it in his shorts, at least none that I could see. His shorts were wet and they clung to his body. There was a bulge where there was supposed to be one, no large than usual, hemispherical in shape, certainly not elongated if his penis was erect. If anything that part of him was more than likely shriveled by spending an hour in the water.

He suddenly broke eye contact, smiled slightly and added under his breath. "Let's stop fuckin' around, Terry. Do you want to mess 'round or not?"

"Do I want to? Ya must be jokin'. Ya mean yer horny and ya want me to do somethin' about it?" It was amusing to hear Ty take the initiative.

He giggled his only answer.

"Hm… Now I'm really confused."

"Why?"

"Well, because yer the one who wants to have sex instead of me," I said gleefully.

"So? Boys get horny too, ya know. It ain't just men."

"That's why ya want to go somewhere private."

"Duh! Yeah, like we should do stuff where people can see us. I was thinkin' of back there," he replied, gesturing over his shoulder in the general direction of the parking lot.

There were a lot of sand hills between the beach and the parking lot. It would not be difficult to find a place where we would be undisturbed.

"Sounds good to me," I said.

I sat up brushing the sand from my clothes. Immediately, Ty grabbed my hand and dragged away until he managed to bring me to my feet.

"What's the big rush?" I pretended to grumble.

"Ain't no big rush."

"Okay. What brung this urge on all of a sudden?"

Ty grinned at me. "Yer doin' so good with yer promise, I thought maybe I'd give ya something to look forward to tonight. A re-ward kinda…"He stopped himself with a grin. "Kinda like payment in advance to keep yer mind on tha job. That's what Ms. Delaware used to do with me when I tried extra hard. I got a reward."

"Ah, like a pick-me-up," I said, thinking of the many afternoon beers that I had enjoyed with Bobbie over the years.

I was beginning to like Ms. Delaware more and more. She seemed to have been the only good influence in Ty's life. Hopefully, I would be another.

Ty shrugged, still yanking on my hand. I glanced over my shoulder. Brandon had also seemed to have something on his mind besides surfing. He had left the surf board on the sand and was running around Pierce. It sounded like he was laughing. By comparison, Ty seemed very intent for a change, almost serious. I began to wonder whether he had experienced some sort of difficulty with the older boy.

A minute of walking took us well off the beaten track and so far into the sand dunes that I doubted we'd be able to find our way back. Even a sea gull would get lost where we went. Of course, there was always the rumble of the waves breaking on the shore, so it would be a simple matter to find our way back to the beach.

"We should have brought a towel," I announced when Ty stopped dragging me along.

"Why?"

"Well, because… You know. The sand's god-awful hot. Ya wouldn't want sand gettin' in yer hiney hole, now would ya?"

He smirked. "Maybe we don't need a towel fer what I got in mind, Terry."

His voice had taken on a distinct husky tone. He did that when he was nervous or excited, or both.

"And what have ya got in mind that don't need a towel."

"Ya sucked ma dick okay," Ty said lewdly. "I was thinkin' maybe ya wanted to do it some more."

"Hm. So ya liked getting' the weenie licked huh?"

"It was cool." His voice was edgy yet doing its best to be indifferent.

"Just cool?"

"Okay, it was way better than awesome," Ty smirked.

"Ya liked it a lot, huh?"

"Yeah. What's not ta like?"

I smiled. "The thing about suckin' cock is takin' turns," I teased, wondering how far Ty would go with a little push.

"I ain't doin' that ta yer dick," he responded instantly.

I laughed. "Just give him a little lick? he's feeling kinda left out. It's all I want ta keep me happy."

"Maybe. Okay. Once ya done mine, I'll do yers, but only lickin' on tha side! I ain't puttin' it in my mouth."

"Ya got a deal. Lose yer shorts, Hollywood," I ordered.

I stepped back a pace and watched. Already I had learned that there was something intensely arousing about watching a young boy take his clothes off, even wet swim shorts. Ty had to peel the sodden cloth away from his body, wriggling his hips to get the elasticized waistband over his narrow hips. He shoved the wet nylon down his thighs, past his knees, to his feet. He stepped away, coming closer to me. His eyes were sparkling with the thrill of what he was doing. He was in the open, even though it was as private there as any bedroom I had ever been in. He licked his lips, meeting my eyes shamelessly.

"It feels funny doin' this where people could see us."

"Ain't no one gonna bother us back here," I said confidently.

Ty smiled slightly and glanced around, making sure. "Tha sun feels real nice on my butt." His eyes flickered. He was still nervous, but his excitement more than compensated.

"It really ain't so small when it's all boned up," I teased. "Hell, it might even be a tad over three inches [7½ cm]."

"Four inches [10 cm]!" Ty said brusquely. "How many times have I gotta tell ya it ain't three?"

"Maybe it was once but it shrank when ya stuck it in that pussy?"

"Ha ha ha. Anyone knows it don't get smaller. Just bigger. It's gonna be bigger 'n yers one day," he boasted.

"In yer dreams."

"Stop fuckin' around and suck it, Terry," he said insistently.

"My but yer a horny little dude, ain't ya Ace."

Playfully, I pulled his little lever down, then without warning, allowed it to spring back. I enjoyed the smack as it slapped against his lower belly. It was difficult to believe that something that was usually so soft and delicate could also become so hard and unyielding. I knelt in the sand and Ty stood in front of me.

I kissed it on the end, on the tiny rounded knob of his glans. It was salty, hot, rubbery, and oh-so-soft. My lips melted. My tongue brushed over it and he shivered. I held his buttocks, one in each hand, my fingers content to line the length of his crack. One finger touched his anus, touched that little puckered dimple that was hidden from my sight. He sighed. His buttocks clenched as his pelvis strained forward. His penis pushed deeper. Behind my teeth, sinking into the lush wet cavity of my mouth. Then, suddenly out again, jerked away until only the helmeted tip was left inside. He thrust back, urgently, shuddering with the rush of pleasure yet still hungrily seeking to be reunited with my tongue and enclosing lips.

Gently, I pushed him away and looked up.

"I'm doin' the suckin', Ace, and yer doin' the standin' still."

"But…"

"Ain't no buts, 'ceptin' this one," I said, squeezing his cheeks firmly. "Don't be humpin' my mouth or it gets slapped big time.".

Ty grinned and nodded. He obediently placed his hands on my shoulders and waited as I began to lick. My only purpose was to give him the pleasure that he needed. From behind, I parted his cheeks, using my fingernail to graze his opening until he wriggled back against me. It was strange how the realization came to me that I controlled him with a single finger. The awareness of my complete power over him increased even further after my finger eased carefully into the outer ring of his anus. Ahead, I could feel the taut muscular band of his inner sphincter, temporarily resisting my advance. The last time I had moved my finger in a slow circular motion until he relaxed sufficiently for me to penetrate beyond the second joint. Then, he trembled every few seconds, quivering as the sensations overwhelmed him. This time, I was less patient and more demanding but it did not seem to perturb him. I was aware of the rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath, his soft hands still on my shoulders, the erratic twitches of his limbs that signaled the slow building up to ecstasy. I licked continuously, wetting his sex until it was slippery and hot, nibbling on his scrotum until he began to pull away.

"God!" Ty groaned when my lips finally formed a circle around his erection and my tongue began to bathe the crown of his hardness. "Oh, God that's so good, Terry."

His voice sounded distant, detached, almost as if he was aware only of one thing. My teeth closed behind the delicate little cherry that crowned his penis, so tiny, yet so incredibly sensitive. It was as if its entire purpose was to be held within my mouth and tantalized by my tongue. I slobbered over his jutting boy-cock, using my finger like a probe to feel around inside his anus. Beyond his clenching sphincter, the void welcomed my finger. I found myself thinking thoughts that had never entered my mind before I met Ty. My oral stimulation of his glans was rapidly becoming an art form that only another man could truly appreciate. He shuddered suddenly, barely able to resist the instinctive urge to resume thrusting his penis into my mouth.

"Oh, Terry… Terry… Oh wow. It's good Terry. Don't stop," he begged.

I did not stop. Instead, I became rougher with him, scooping up my saliva from his scrotum before using my finger forcefully, perhaps too forcefully. It slid deeper, gliding on the slippery wetness, going further and further inside him until my knuckles were rammed into his crack and the entire length of my finger was buried inside him. So deep. So deep that I could feel his inner heat, the looseness of his rectum, the roundness of what I imagined (correctly) was his bladder, and something else, a tiny bump that made him groan loudly whenever my finger pushed against it.

I realized that his sphincter was grasping the base of my finger, squeezing hard, then releasing. His bowels were cramping, pulling against my finger. I yanked it free, adding more saliva, then rammed it back again. Already, his opening was so dilated that there was no resistance. He grunted as another spasm passed. Now, my head moved rapidly, pumping vigorously on his succulent organ, all but chewing on the tender flesh. It was as if he was straining down, then up again to meet my violent attack at both the front and back of his body. He was, pushing with all his strength, jerking forward, instinctively thrusting. I alone could make him reach the pinnacle that was fast approaching. My hand moved faster, a blur that burrowed deeply into him. Ty did not complain. Instead, he became more aggressive as well. I felt him straining against me, lifting up and forcing his belly against my head. It was soft only on the outside, firm knotted muscles beneath his silky skin cushioning like resilient springs as our bodies moved together.

Without more warning than he did not push back against my finger, he reached the peak. He gasped, finally giving in to his instinctive need to groan in ecstasy even as his short hard penis began to spasm. It was over in seconds but each dry jerking pulse was distinct. It sent a thrill through me, a surge of excitement that was satisfying in itself. His knees buckled at the very end and he slumped forward, his body trembling, his hips still thrusting, his penis escaping from my mouth, my finger yanked from inside his rectum. I stared in mute disbelief, seeing it shaking wildly, saliva drooling down his slender brown thighs, and then I gulped his penis back into my mouth.

Suddenly it was all too much for him. He pushed me away, held me back with his arms straight. His eyes were wide, not believing.

"No… stop… it hurts," he whined.

I wiped my lips, still tasting him, that strange taste of a young boy's penis. A minute passed before Ty could breath normally again.

"Fuckin' awesome," Ty muttered. He glanced down at his still hard penis.

"Man, you got it all red."

"Sorry," I said humbly. Had I really done that?"

"'s okay. He licked his lips and slowly wiped his hand across his brow. For a while, he stared at me, pensive. "It hurt, what ya done to my butt."

"Sorry," I said again. "Ya didn't complain at tha time."

"Yeah… well I had other things on ma mind, didn't I?"

"Sure ya did, Ace." I smirked at him. "Ya sure must'a liked it from the sounds ya was makin'. Oooaaahhhh," I mimicked, "Oh wow, Terry," I added in a falsetto.

"Did not!"

"Did too! Don't get uptight about likin' it, Ace. Yer normal as fer as I know. I figure there ain't a boy alive who don't like getting' his weenie sucked. Ya ready fer yer turn?"

"I guess," Ty agreed reluctantly. "Ya gotta warn me. I don't want yer stuff all over me."

"Sheez," I snorted. "It ain't like yer gonna swallow it. It washes right off."

Ty grimaced and wiped his hands over his groin wiping away what was left of my saliva.

"Ger-oss," he exaggerated, looking at his hands. "Ya got me all wet."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" I smirked.

His penis glistened in the sun, the skin still stretched, reddened all the way up to the little blue helmet. It had not softened in the slightest. It was still as hard as it could be, hard enough that I felt a twinge of envy. Strange as it might sound, I was jealous of his youth and that proud symbol of his boyhood. Boys were meant to love boys, not men who were rapidly approaching middle age.

I stood up, casually placing my hand on Ty's bare shoulder. He resisted my downward pressure for a moment, but then he yielded and sank to his knees. Playfully, I ruffled his hair.

"Ya ready?" I teased.

"Yeah, I reckon. I ain't doin' more than lick it."

"Okay."

"I ain't puttin' it in ma mouth," he warned.

"So ya said already."

Ty scowled and I smiled back at him. I took a step closer, until my rigid penis was inches away from bumping him on the nose. He stared at it, so close that he could probably feel the heat of it. Absently, he licked his lips. A moment later he realized what he had done. He glanced up at me and I nodded reassuringly.

"Suckin' on a guy's dick ain't tha end of tha world, Ace," I said supportively.

"It don't mean I'm gay," Ty replied bluntly. "I'm only doin' it 'cause I owe you fer doin' mine."

He reached out, taking my penis in his small hand. I smiled, realizing that although he was squeezing, the tips of his fingers still could not meet the end of his thumb.

"Ya got yerself a handful there, huh Ace?"

"It sure is big enough," Ty agreed. He hesitated, his hand trembling slightly. "It's like its alive or somethin'."

"It ain't gonna hurt ya, but if yer worried 'bout doin' it, ya don't have to."

"I know."

Again, his tongue swiped over his full red lips. His head came closer at the same time as his hand brought my penis downward. For an instant, he looked up again. His expression was that of a boy about to do something that he knew he should not do, but was going to do anyway. I felt the tenderness of his lips, so soft that his first touch was almost impossible to feel. However, I could see that his lips were brushing over my penis, slipping slowly along the shaft leaving a trail of wetness. As he neared the tip, he changed from smooching to little kisses. It nearly tickled, but I was too excited. Then, his lips came to my glans and he stopped. The feeling changed suddenly, becoming even softer, wetter, hotter. His tongue. He was using his tongue. So that was what if felt like if someone licked your penis?

Quickly, he pulled away, looking up again. Now, his expression was uncertain. Eyes wide. Nostrils flaring as he inhaled, then exhaled. His lips were wet.

"That felt real nice, Ace," I murmured.

"It's hot," Ty replied. He sounded distracted.

"It don't taste too bad, does it?"

"It's okay. Kinda sweaty, but it ain't so bad."

I stroked the hair behind his ears with my thumbs, lifting back until his mouth returned. I encouraged him by caressing his cheeks, fondling gently as his lips began to kiss. He progressed slowly, using his lips and tongue, coming very close to taking my penis into his mouth but never quite getting there. Just as my hands crept over his ears and tried to guide his head down onto my penis, he pulled away. It took a moment before his lips returned. He kissed my penis tentatively, gliding his soft lips slowly towards the blunt swollen tip. I waited with bated breath. Suddenly, he stopped what he was doing, leering up at me with his clear blue eyes, eyes that looked as if they should have been innocent, but weren't. With his lips wrapped around the side of my penis, he was anything but innocent. He had been at it for nearly five minutes.

"What ya reckon, Ace?" I teased. "Ya getting' used ta tha taste of dick yet?"

Ty seemed to think about it before he disengaged, and then he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He licked his lips, perhaps feeling where they had been pressing against my maleness. I remembered that there had been a strange sensation when I had sucked Ty's penis for the first time. It was as if his penis made my lips tingle. I had tasted him for most of the night, a sweet soft warmth that kept me awake. At first he made a wry face, trying to show distaste, yet finding it difficult not to smile. In some people's eyes what he had done was distasteful, but not in mine, not any longer. Once you had done it, you were changed forever, at least not as far as I was concerned. Of course, the only penis I could remember taking into my mouth was Ty's. That alone probably made all the difference. The thought of doing the same thing to a man turned my stomach.

He shrugged. My penis wagged eagerly in front his face, only inches away from his lips. He did not get the hint that I intended. It seemed as if I would have to be content with all of five minutes.

"It ain't nearly half as bad as yer thought it was gonna be, huh?" I added hopefully.

Another shrug, ambivalent, or so it appeared to me. Apparently, he was not convinced that it was good or bad.

"It's like suckin' some huge sausage, like them brats the Schneiders fix on their barbecue."

"Ya know 'em from the trailer park?"

"Yeah. I think ya seen her. We passed 'em on the way in. Mr. Schneider, I like him a lot. I used ta pretend he was…" His voice had become wistful.

"Yeah?"

"Ma dad… Ya know how it is? I never met him… ma real dad that is. Once, Mr. Schneider did some weldin' on tha kart fer me, but it weren't right 'cause a tha alloys being different 'n all."

Bobbie will put that right pretty quickly, I thought. He was a magician when it came to welding. Ty's hand stalled, not moving, just holding my penis close to the base with a finger and thumb. His other fingers curled up beneath my scrotum.

"Ya got big balls," Ty mused. "Ya think mine'll be this big, Terry?"

"Prob'ly. It'll take a coupla years fer that to happen, I 'xpect. They'll start growin' pretty soon now I reckon."

"Why?"

"Why do they grow? It's so's ya can make babies."

"'cause a tha sperms and stuff?" Ty queried.

"Yeah."

"It's kinda nice, I like 'em like this, them bein' big 'n all," Ty remarked absently. "It's just tha hair I don't like."

"Sorry. I'll shave it off fer ya," I offered sarcastically.

"Okay… I'll suck him proper if ya do, Terry," Ty replied eagerly. He grinned at me.

"I was kiddin'."

"I ain't!" He let go of my penis and rose to stand before me. He grinned. "Ya want me to suck yer dick all tha way, don't ya?"

"Yeah. Who wouldn't?"

"Then ya know what it's gonna take." He glanced down to where his swimming shorts were lying on the sand. "Ya know, Terry, Brando was tellin' me they go skinny dippin' here sometimes."

"Yeah, that's Heekin said. Him and Brandon in tha buff… What are ya thinkin', Ace?"

Ty smirked. "We got the skinny part already, Terry. All we gotta do is the dippin' part."

"Ya mean?…"

"I'm game. Ain't no one gonna see us, 'ceptin' them. Anyway, I bet ya Brando's gonna be runnin' around bare-butt if I do."

"Ya mean we go back to that beach like this?"

"Yeah. You wanna?"

"I wouldn't mind coolin' off fer a while in the surf," I admitted.

Ty laughed. "Seein' as I got ya all hot 'n bothered, huh?"

"Somethin' like that. That reminds me. I guess I gotta teach ya one of tha most important lessons of life fer a guy," I drawled.

"What's that?"

"It ain't wise to leave a dick half done. Ya either finish what ya start or ya run tha risk of havin' a sore hiney."

"I told ya I ain't doin' nuthin' like that!" Ty remonstrated. "Least ways not until ya win one of tha series races."

"I ain't plannin' on dickin' yer buity, boy. I was plannin' on doin' this…"

Before he could say or do anything, I grabbed his arm close to the shoulder and spun him around. It was easy to manhandle Ty, at least until he was prepared to fight back. What he lacked in strength he more than made up for in agility. Luckily, I caught him by surprise. With my other hand I smacked his bare bottom. Not too hard, certainly not hard enough to hurt, but it was hard enough to make him yelp. I left my hand there, clamped over his right cheek, pressing my fingers into his crack, one finger searching.

He grumbled a complaint, then stopped as I leaned over him and brought my lips close to his ear.

"It's a good thing yer cute, Kincaid."

"Why?" he challenged with a giggle.

"'cause I don't like bein' left with a hard-on by some bratty little kid who don't know better."

"I ain't leavin' nuthin'. I'm just savin' him fer tonight, assumin' ya do it that is."

"Do what?"

"Sheez. Yer shave him and I'll suck him off fer ya." Ty giggled, hollowing his cheeks so that there was no room for doubt of what he intended.

"All the way?"

"Yeah, I suppose." He was trying his best to sound reluctant.

"And swallow?"

"Geez!"

"Yer promised, remember?"

"Did not!" Ty exclaimed. He grinned. "Fuck! What I said was, I'd give yer a blow job fer bringin' me with ya. That don't mean I gotta ta swallow."

"I don't see what yer worried about. Ya tasted Paul's cum before I bet."

Ty scuffed his feet through the sand, not answering.

"It ain't that bad, now is it, Ace? Ya sucked him off all tha way, didn't ya?" I posed.

"Maybe." Ty shrugged hesitantly, his feet still shifting little piles of sand.

"Ha, yeah, ya have!" I winked at him to show I wasn't angry. "That's one bet I'd win fer sure. A boy don't get lips like yers, not unless he sucks cock," I taunted.

"Huh? What's wrong with ma lips?" Ty demanded. He sounded slightly anxious.

"Nuthin'. Ain't ya looked in tha mirror lately?"

"Yeah." he sounded more perturbed. "So what's there ta see?"

I laughed. It was no different to saying the size of his penis was related to the size of his thumb. I smiled at the memory. He had fallen hook, line and sinker, then. It seemed like a long time ago. The fact was that part of me enjoyed tormenting him. It went with the territory. Symbiotic torment. I teased him and he teased me back.

"See this little ridge here?" I began, pointing to the fold above his upper lip. "Well… see, it's like this, Ace. When a guy sucks dick, it gets bigger, 'cause it has to stretch and all, so the lip muscles get stronger and bigger like yer abs."

It almost sounded true. It was all I could to hold in my amusement as Ty ran his finger over where mine had just been pointing.

"It don't feel so big," he remarked. Suddenly he grinned. "Yer havin' me on, ain't ya Terry?"

"Who me?"

He smirked. "Yer lips ain't no different ta mine 'n the only dick ya ever sucked is mine," Ty said, flipping his now limp penis between his fingers so that it bounced from one lean thigh to the other.

"Yer dick ain't tha issue, Ace. It ain't big enough to stretch a mouth by anythin' noticeable."

"Well, ya sure liked it enough," Ty rebuked. "Fuckin' slurpin' all over it, ya were. Anyway it's all I got so if ya want more dick yer gonna have ta get yer blow jobs from Bobbie."

"There ain't no way," I laughed. "I don't want ma jaw broke. 'sides I prefer small dicks like yers."

"It's plenty big enough fer fuckin' pussy," Ty countered.

I laughed. "Are ya talkin' 'bout yer three inches [7½ cm] weenie or the four inch [10 cm] one yer always dreamin' 'bout? Anyways, ya better stop wavin' that morsel 'round or some sea gull's gonna swoop down and bite it off."

"More likely some old pervert like you is gonna get his mouth on it. Pervert, pervert, dick suckin' pervert," Ty chanted.

"Takes one ta know one," I responded with the familiar school-boy response. "I bet ya got a lotta practice suckin' cock with yer friend, Paul?"

"Yeah, well…" he could not think of anything to say. Instead, he blushed. "It's so fuckin' hot. Let's go skinny dippin' Terry," he said feebly.

I enjoyed it when he tried to change the topic.

"There ain't nuthin' to be ashamed of, Ace. Lotsa boys suck dick. It's a rite a passage," I said as seriously as I could.

"A what?"

"All I'm sayin' is it ain't a big deal. Just some fancy words people use, Ace. All they mean is it's normal fer boys yer age to fool around. Suckin' dick is just somethin' guys do fer each other."

"Because they do it better than girls?" Ty asked curiously.

I wondered where he had heard that. Paul?

"Hm… I don't really know," I admitted. "Probably. But it's tha only option ya got when there ain't no girls linin' up to give ya pussy. A blow job will always get ya off."

Ty smiled. "Ya liked suckin' ma dick, didn't ya Terry?"

"Duh. Is tha Pope Catholic? What's not ta like? How about you? Ya think ya want ta do it again some day?"

"It was okay," Ty said reluctantly.

"Ya liked suckin' Paul didn't ya?" I was envious of Paul and there was no hiding it.

"Yeah, it was nice, but only 'cause he ain't got hair everywhere. It ain't big like yers either."

"He cummed in yer mouth?" I had to know, but I didn't want him to answer.

"Yeah."

It was the answer I expected, which didn't make it any easier. "Tastes gross huh?" I asked, wondering what semen tasted like, hoping his answer was… I didn't know what. I had never tasted the essence of male, not even my own. I wanted Ty to like how mine tasted, and no one else's.

"Nah. It ain't bad. Ya gotta swallow real fast," Ty explained. "Then, it ain't got no taste, 'ceptin' it's kinda salty."

"Not slimy?"

"Yeah, that too. The taste ain't why ya swallow."

He had not intended to tell me that, at least not then. It said something about him that he preferred to keep hidden.

We cleared the last of the sand hills. Ahead was the beach and the inviting surf. I saw Heekin and Brandon as naked as the day they were born. They were standing knee deep in the water, splashing each other furiously. It looked staged, but it also seemed like a lot of fun. I dropped my clothes on the sand and followed Ty into the water, keeping a respectable distance between us and them. As Ty frolicked around me, I realized that part of what attracted me to him was his ability to have fun and enjoy life to the fullest no matter what. That was how he had managed to survive.

Chapter 11

Our first afternoon in California was an afternoon that would be difficult for me to forget. It wasn't everyday that I went around stark naked with my dick flopping against my legs as I chased after a sprightly ten-year-old boy. In fact, it was the first time that I did anything like that. It was a day of firsts. I could not remember having so much fun. It was like a perpetual starting grid, my engine growling every time Ty glanced at me. And if he kept looking at me with those big blue eyes of his, my excitement increased, all the way to the banshee wail when tachometers went into the redline, the flag waving, the explosion of adrenaline that heightened every sense. If he as much as touched me, it was no different to the scream of tires when a couple of dozen cars begin to race. It was like getting off, only better, a lot better. The ultimate orgasm, and all I had to do was look at him and remember what we'd done behind the sand hills.

It was an unforgettable day. He was ten years old, blond, sexy, and as naked as a jay bird. A drop-dead fucking gorgeous boy, and he was mine! All mine! And I almost never cussed, at least not out aloud. Being around Ty changed all that. I wanted to shout 'FUCK'! I seldom used the 'F' word in his presence but that did not mean I did not think it. In fact, I wanted to fuck him more than I could stand. Deep down inside, lust reigned supreme. I found myself looking at his fabulous body all the time, mostly at his little butt. It was like two squashed together melons. I fantasized, imagining what it would be like to be inside him. Fucking him was all I thought about that afternoon. I couldn't think of anything else I'd enjoying doing as much as that. Being inside him, inside the womb of his body, sharing his heat, being part of him.

The only problem with my fantasy was that Ty had the opposite opinion, but I planned on changing his mind in the near future. I only wished I knew how to do it. So far he was pretty damned adamant that his butt was off limits until I pulled one out of the nascar hat. I had a few ideas how to do that but all of them needed money, lots of money. More money than the team had, more money than it was likely to have for the foreseeable future.

And the setting for my on-going, gut-wrenching lust? A cloudless sky, long green-blue waves breaking endlessly in a flurry of white foam and a deafening roar on the beach. Seagulls wheeled overhead, sometimes coming so close that if one happened to crap at an inopportune time a person could be seriously injured.

One thing I learned within the first few minutes of entering the water was that surfing was not as easy as it looked. Tyler Kincaid was very good at surfing, or so it seemed to me. The brown-skinned little runt made it look easy. My experience with body surfing was limited to watching the Travel Channel when there was nothing else to watch on cable television, so not drowning was pretty much a sign of excellence. I tried it once and got dumped upside down, head buried into the swirling sand, thinking I might never come up for air.

The beach behind the kart track was the perfect place for the four of us, all naked sun worshippers. Two boys and two men without a care in the world, even though I had no idea how Ty and I would manage to survive the next few days on a couple of dollars and change. Perhaps it was possible to survive on lust alone? And I lusted after Ty, lusted like a priest after a virgin altar boy, except that Ty was no angel and the only cloth I'd taken was an oily rag to clean the grease off an engine. For that matter, I was not at all sure about the virgin part. Not that it mattered. Who needed food anyway?

We were alone on that strip of yellow sand beach for as far as the eye could see. Well almost alone, for in the far distance I could see a few people riding surfboards. Having Heekin and his nephew close by really didn't bother me, they were naked as well, but those distant surfers… Even after I had dressed again I still kept an eye on them just in case they ventured further up the beach. The last thing I wanted to do was to explain to a cop why I was running around naked with a ten-year-old boy who was unrelated to me. At least, Heekin had the close relative thing going in his favor.

Luckily, Pierce and Brandon seemed to be intent on ignoring us, and I was more than happy to reciprocate the favor. The glances I managed to get were unconvincing. Were they anything more than friends? Okay, they were very close to each other, as close as Ty and I were, but not so close that they were doing something that should have been done behind the sand hills.

Unlike Ty, I sunburned easily, at least on skin that never saw the sun. I had a 'big white butt', according to the bratty boy who tagged along and was never further away than a shout. He got his jollies from making fun of me. I also had what Ty referred to with the peculiar mixture of boyish mirth that is partly derision and partly superiority, and likely to get his butt whacked if he persisted, as a 'trucker tan', but which more often than not came out as a 'fucker tan'. I had to admit there was some truth to it even though I usually left the truck driving to Bobbie and the other members of the team. The 'fucking' too, for that matter. I hoped that was going to change before much longer.

Either by virtue of youth or genes, Ty had skin that could be exposed all day long and merely turn a darker shade of brown. He may have spent the first ten years of his life in a dump but he was a lucky little bastard, in some ways at least. He had a body to die for, flawless skin, and a face that made you look twice, and keep looking long after it was rude to stare. Stripped, he was a real heart-stopper, at least as I cared to think about it. I would have been willing to die for Ty Kincaid.

He was beautiful, yes; drop-dead, dick-stiffening gorgeous even, but not like a girl. He was all boy and he had the dick to prove it. It was true even though I teased him about the size of it. His dick was the perfect size for his body, not too big, not too small, just right. It belonged on him. Every time I looked at it I drooled. The tip looked even more blue in the sunlight, pushed up like a little English policeman's helmet, like one of those bobbies that were sometimes on the Travel Channel. I like the way it bounced around when he ran. I couldn't see much of his balls. They were so shrivelled up from being in the water. It was as if he didn't have anything there. Just a dick, a wonderful little hairless boy-dick, bouncing around like no one's business. There was a reason why I kept licking my lips, and it wasn't because of the salt water.

No doubt there had been others who had seen Ty naked besides me, but I preferred to think otherwise. It was my private show, a naked exhibitionist with an audience of one. He seemed to get a little bit browner every time I looked at him. My skin on the other hand went ruddy after less than an hour, skin coloring that would have to be stretched a considerable distance to be called a sun tan.

It was a good thing that I left the water when I did. Any longer and I risked not only getting sunburned, but compromising myself with Ty in front of two people who were still little more than strangers. Sure, Heekin and his nephew were also naked, and it was more than likely they were gay as well, but there was no way to tell for certain. They spent a lot of time wrestling and standing very close together, close enough to rub their dicks together. Seeing that was hot, amusing, and as unsettling as it was reassuring. They did not seem to mind if we saw them, although I made a conscious effort not to stare. Perhaps because of them I felt a little less inhibited, which was good because Ty flirted openly with me. He seemed to be shamelessly flaunting his naked body even when Heekin and Brandon were closer than I would have liked. Sometimes it was all I could do to stop myself from making a grab for his very public private parts. Keeping my erection out of sight became task number one. It kept bobbing above the waves, like a flagpole that wanted to be seen. I tried to keep a respectable distance between us and them, far enough away that intimate details could not be discerned.

I wasn't the only one with a stiff dick. I think Ty sported a perpetual three-inch [7½ cm] woody, looking less like a surfer and more like a pint-sized blond-headed devil. His favorite trick, mine too for that matter, was catching a wave by diving forward just before the crest reached him. I had no idea how he managed to do it, but somehow he guided himself through the water until he rammed into me. I lived for those few seconds when he hit me. Naked body slammed against naked body. In the resulting melee of arms and legs, he groped my groin, grabbing whatever came to hand. Sometimes, I managed to grapple with him and fend him away. Sometimes, if I was quick and lucky, I even managed to get a handful of steel-hard boy-cock. There wasn't much to grab hold of in the balls-department. More often than not he was able to effect a successful escape while I struggled through the water after him, complaining loudly. We both knew that I had no chance of catching up with him, not when he had grown up on Daytona Beach. The number of times I had been to the ocean over the years could be counted on the fingers of one hand.

Finally, when I was risking an uncomfortable night if I persisted in the sun, or getting one or both of us arrested for lewd and lascivious acts with a minor, I made my way back to the beach and covered my exposed parts. I spent the rest of the afternoon drinking Heekin's beer and watching Ty demonstrate his prowess on Brandon's surfboard, and wondering where Heekin and his nephew had disappeared to. They were gone for nearly forty minutes.

I was still some distance from being drunk when it came time to leave. We had over an hour to get ready for the dinner reservation at 7.30 p.m. so there was no reason to hurry. Still, I did my best to keep up with Heekin's fire-engine-red Porsche. I was jealous, green with envy, begrudging his obvious success. It would have been nice to trade the Firebird in for something made in Germany. With luck, we'd return to Tallahassee to find the car had been stolen.

The important thing was leaving enough distance between our cars that Heekin would not be tempted to race me. If he did, I might as well pull over to the side of the road and take a leak. It took every sickly horsepower in the aging Taurus just to do keep up with him, and then some. My efforts, including frequent encouragement to the engine to hold together and cursing every few seconds at Ford's V-6 glue-factory ponies, provided amusement to my giggling passenger. I began to wish I could patent that boy-giggle. It was music to my ears. In return, Ty kept up an amusing commentary on how I should approach the 'race', which he insisted on calling it. It was not much of a race, more like a sprint kart match-racing against a shifter kart. There was no race! Finally, Heekin put his foot down hard on the gas pedal and disappeared in the distance. We continued on to our motel, enjoying the sun and view with the car windows wound all the way down.

The 'Sunbird Motel' was hardly my first choice of accommodations, but it was the only place I could afford. It was a run-down two-story 'U' shaped building. At least it was well-located, being across the road from Ventura's main beach and next door to that icon of American culture, McDonalds. Our room was on the second floor, overlooking the McDonalds dumpster, but it was on the end closest to the stair, which meant that it was furthest from the ocean view.

As soon as I pulled into the parking space Ty jumped out. He galloped ahead, taking the steps two at a time. He was waiting for me at the door to our room, grinning.

"What's tha big rush, Ace?"

"I need ta go."

"Ya need ta go? Hell, it was me who drunk all the beer, boy. I'm dyin' fer a piss. Yer gonna have ta wait a while."

"Cain't ya hold it a bit longer? I need ta go somethin' awful," Ty said testily even though he was smiling. "I gotta bladder ready to fuckin' burst."

"Hell," I cursed as the key jammed in the door lock. "Ya think they'd use them things with tha card swipes."

I thought about delaying a few seconds, maybe even grabbing him around the waist to see if he pissed his pants.

"Hurry up fer God's sake!" He was becoming impatient. I fiddled with the key, turning it in the wrong direction.

"Don't seem to work," I said. "Maybe it's tha wrong key. I'm sure it's tha one they gave me at tha front desk."

"Sheez. Hurry up, Terry. I'm gonna pee ma pants any second."

"Just hold ya horses, Ace. Anyways, I'm hittin' tha can first," I said.

Finally, when his expression was getting tense, I got the key to work and reluctantly pushed the door open. Ty ducked under my arm and bolted past me, shouting something that probably shouldn't have been shouted where someone could hear him. I chased after him, pushing the door closed behind me. By the time I reached the cramped bathroom, Ty was trying to unfasten the cord of his swim shorts. With his narrow waist there was no way that he could force his shorts past his hips without undoing the criss-cross lacing at the front. I laughed and pushed him to the side, making room in front of the toilet. I yanked open the zipper of my jeans, poked around inside to relocate my briefs, and hauled my fire hose out. Almost as soon as I started to urinate, Ty shoved at me. It made the stream splash across the seat. Some even splattered on the vinyl-tiled floor before I managed to regain control.

"Ya gonna die fer that, Ace," I laughed.

"I gotta pee too, so make room," Ty squealed.

By then his shorts were at his knees. He urinated like a little boy, standing with his legs apart. The funny thing was that even though we'd had sex a couple of times and showered together, I still hadn't seen him urinate. Like a little boy, he stood there holding his boyhood out as he strained down. Apparently, it was a job for two hands, either that or an excuse to play with himself. I smiled, looking down, watching the initial hesitant dribble suddenly become a steady flow. Until then, I had never considered the act of urinating to be an erotic experience, but seeing Ty standing beside me directing his yellow arc into the stained porcelain bowl sent a powerful surge through me. He oozed sex like cream in Little Debbie cup-cake. He manipulated the flow with the skill of a fireman putting out a fire, making precise circles in the water, then trying to write his name. It was amusing to watch, but even more amusing was that it was coming from a penis that was probably going to get hard from all the attention it was getting. Ty's boy-dick, that precious boyish part of him that I was in love with, had become such an important part of my life that I could not take my eyes away. It defined perfection in the same way that a high performance engine did. High compression, blue-printed, perfectly balanced. It was all about form and function. Where his urine exited through the tiny slit in the blue-hued tip it was like a thin ribbon. A few inches out, it rotated and thickened almost as if the pressure had diminished. It was a joy to watch. I could get hard just watching a boy piss.

"Man, I sure needed that!" Ty sighed loudly as his bladder emptied.

The stream slowed and became a trickle. He stroked his penis absently, coaxing out the last dribble. Finally, still using fingers from both hands, he shook it to and fro, slapping it against his thighs, even bouncing it onto his lower belly. A few droplets were shaken loose. One of them landed on my penis. Ty saw it happen and smirked crudely.

"Ya done flippin' that thing ya call a dick, Ace?"

"Yeah, I'm done." He grinned, still fingering his penis. Was it my imagination or had it already begun to lengthen?

"I oughta make ya lick that off, Ace," I said haughtily.

"Gross!"

"Yeah, well ya oughta be more careful."

"What's it taste like?"

"Piss? Hell, I don't know, Ace. I don't go 'round drinkin' tha stuff. I much prefer drinkin' beer. Ya wanna taste mine?" I suggested crudely.

"All ya want is yer cock sucked," Ty challenged, smirking back.

"And yer just tha cute little cock sucker to do it too."

"In yer dreams."

No matter what he said, his tone said something entirely different, but maybe it was my imagination going into top gear. It wasn't just friendly banter back and forth. I had been feeling rambunctious all day. Now, I was just plain horny. My brood pleasure surged, getting awfully close to the red line.

"Ha! My dreams, or yers, horn puppy?"

Ty rolled his eyes and gave me the 'you're-dumber-than-you-look' look.

"I guess we better get our butts in tha shower," I said after a while. It was obvious he was not about to up the ante.

As Ty stepped out of his swim shorts, I opened the curtain to the shower and turned on the water. The shower was a step away from filthy, but when there's no money to pay the bill you don't complain. It took only a few seconds before the water was hot, which surprised me as much as it had that morning. I was used to lukewarm showers when I stayed in cheap motels. When I turned back to him he was naked, still fondling himself. By then, his penis was half erect.

I decided then, for what had to be the one-hundredth time, that a naked ten-year-old boy surely had to be the most beautiful sight imaginable. If he was playing with his dick, so much the better. I stared at him, taking in his slender body. I could have stared at him all night and died from cold when the hot water ran out.

He was brown, beautifully tanned except for a paler area in the middle section and even that was darker than it had been a few hours earlier. His ribs stuck out, not like a starving child, but he was definitely leaner than most boys his age. He was not skinny, luckily. I didn't like skinny kids, or fat kids either for that matter. He was built exactly the way I liked, an energetic boy who consumed only as many calories as he used in exercise. There was a shape to his body that made it look as if it had been purposely shaped to excite a man. His muscles were very visible, enhanced under the harsh Walmart spotlights that had been placed above the vanity in some misguided attempt at redecorating. There was a basis for a solid six-pack when he was a few years older, just as Heekin had observed. A definite ridge of muscle from his groin up to his sternum or whatever it was called, was interrupted only by his indented very-lickable navel. It was the original belly button, although much more intricate than the button on my jeans. His flat slim belly tapered gracefully to his groin, showing prominent veins where his slender yet strong thighs joined his lower abdomen. And then there was the culmination of his body. The boy dick belonging to Ty Kincaid! I still didn't know his middle name. It made me think that all of my life to date had been wasted. I had been wandering aimlessly, not understanding what I needed for fulfillment, not until I met Ty.

"Did anyone ever tell ya… yer real sexy?" I croaked.

"Yeah… You." He grinned, slightly obscenely I would have said if anyone asked. "Ya like what ya see, Terry?"

"Yeah, I like. I like very much. Ya got a real nice body, Ace."

"I ain't too skinny fer ya?" He moved back a few inches. His voice trembled.

"Nah. I ain't no expert, but as fer as I'm concerned yer built just right fer a boy. Hey, ya wanna shower together, sexy?"

"Duh!" He grinned suddenly. "Only I gotta tell ya, there ain't no way I'm messin' 'round tonight, Terry."

"Why not?"

"'cause I'm hungrier 'n hell."

I laughed. "I guess yer a growin' boy, even if yer dick ain't."

Ty screwed up his face, giving me a scornful look that said 'dumber than hell' better than words could.

"Okay, it's a deal. I'll behave myself, but ya can skip tha shower if ya wanna watch TV or somethin'," I offered.

"No way, Jose. Showerin' with you is whole lot more fun than showerin' by myself."

"Really? Ya mean that? You was pretty grumpy this mornin'."

"I'm always grumpy when I wake up." He lowered his eyes, looking downright seductive. "So ya wanna shower with me, big boy?"

"Okay!" I almost shouted. "Hop in Ace 'n I'll be right with ya."

I watched him get into the shower, hurriedly shedding my clothes. Fortunately, he left the curtain open. He watched me undress, still shamelessly fondling his penis, not masturbating, merely doing what felt good. He would have done the same thing even if his penis was limp. It was natural self-pleasuring that would probably drive most parents crazy if he did it where they could see him. He smiled happily. He was obviously enjoying what he was doing and there was no way I'd ever tell him to stop. Still, I could not help wondering what was going through his mind as he stared at me.

"Hurry up, old man. We ain't got all day," he said abruptly when I sat down on the toilet to finish taking off my jeans.

He moved back to the wall furthest away from the shower head, grinning brazenly as I clambered over the side of the bath to join him.

"Ya wash me first, okay," he instructed impatiently.

His voice had the little nervous tremor that seemed to be there every time he was excited. I was beginning to get used to that tone of voice, even looking forward to hearing it. The last time had been when he suggested going into the sand dunes. His eyes flickered. There was a hint of a smile on his face. He had said that he wasn't interested in sexplay, but perhaps he had changed his mind. With that in mind I wondered where he was headed to, but wherever it was, he realized that I wanted to go there as well. he stepped closer, brushing his bare body against me. It was all I could do not to grab him and hold him tight. As soon as I had regained enough control not to tremble with excitement I picked up what was left of the small bar of soap that came with the room. It didn't do much for making a lather, but it did make him slippery. And that was enough. When we had showered that morning it had been rushed and we had washed ourselves quickly because the alternative was to skip breakfast. Something in the back of my mind said that this time was going to be very different.

As soon as my hands touched his bare skin I knew then that I could never go back to showering alone. That one touch of his bony shoulders was enough. I would always want to wash him. Sleek, smooth, slippery as an eel, that was Ty. My hands traveled all over his body, touching places that were already very familiar, but with the slippery soap took on an entirely different feel. It was a sensation that was beyond my imagination. It was not just that he was hairless and smooth-skinned, although that certainly played a major role. Under that delicate brown skin was a body of bone and muscle. I kept thinking of his penis, so soft on the outside, yet rigid on the inside, and like the rest of him it was always alive. He squirmed and pressed back against me, visibly enjoying the experience as much I did. Almost immediately his penis attained full erection again and stayed there, unwavering in its stiffness. I marveled at the tiny blue veins just beneath the surface, the little blue helmet-head so swollen that the skin was actually shiny. His scrotum was relaxed, revealing the shape of his testicles although they were still suspended a long distance from the bottom of his pouch. They were tiny compared to mine. Little-boy-balls that were barely big enough to be called balls. Indeed, just one of my testicles was bigger than everything he had there.

"Yer so sexy," I said softly. My fingers tickled the end of his penis, flowing around the rounded firm head. He trembled, tensing even more as my fingers glided down the stiff shaft. It would not take much for him to have an orgasm. Just a few minutes at most, perhaps even less from the way he tensed.

"Behave yerself or we'll be late," Ty chided. He grinned at me. "It feels nice, getting' washed by someone else."

"I bet. It feels nice doin' tha washin'," I agreed.

"Can we shower like this from now on?"

"Duh! 'n I was thinkin' I'd have ta ask ya."

He laughed and playfully pushed my hand away. I had been soaping his penis for a while at that point, but it was obvious to both of us that washing had become an excuse for rubbing his penis to orgasm.

"Tonight, dude," he promised. "Now, I'm washin ya."

I was not about to say no. The only problem was that the piece of soap that remained was so thin that I could see light on the other side.

"We should'a got more soap when they cleaned tha room," I complained.

Of course, there was no point in complaining to the manager. His way of dealing with complaints was to say, 'the staff will get to it when they have the time.'

Still, Ty's small hands moved over my body, using what was left of the soap, providing a massage with surprising skill. Every time I glanced at him he was grinning.

"Havin' fun?"

"Yeah. Geez, yer hairy enough. Just like a gorilla, ain't ya?"

"Very funny," I retorted. "Bobbie's got a load more hair than me, ya know."

"Yeah, but I ain't his…" Ty hesitated, searching for the word. He glanced at me awkwardly. I wondered what he had been going to say. His what?

"No, ya ain't," I said confidently. "'n I'm glad ya ain't."

I tilted his head back so that I saw his face. He smiled weakly, a fleeting smile that was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

"Ty…"

"Yeah?"

"We're real close fer friends, ain't we?"

"Yeah…" He swallowed, momentarily glancing away before meeting my eyes.

"So maybe we're more than friends?" I suggested.

"Maybe…" He swallowed, almost gulping.

"Ya know… I like ya a lot, Ace," I began self consciously.

"I figured ya did," Ty murmured. "I like ya too, Terry. A lot… okay… but it don't mean I'm gay, okay," he added after a moment.

He went back to washing, coming closer and closer to my crotch. Each time, he veered away at the last moment. He was learning out to tease, how to prolong my torment. My penis stayed limp, no doubt waiting for that first intimate contact. I wondered whether I had drunk too much of Heekin's beer. I didn't feel drunk, just happy.

"Terry?"

"Yeah."

"What we talked about at tha beach? 'bout shavin' him? Ya really gonna do it fer me?"

"No way, Ace."

Ty breathed out. "Yeah, I kinda figured that ya wasn't into doin' it," he said reluctantly.

"That's right… 'cause it ain't me doin' it, Ace. Yer doin' it," I laughed. "I reckon ya gotta learn ta shave sooner or later."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Reckon yer up to it?"

"What if… I mean I never shaved nuthin' before, Terry. What if I cut ya or somethin'?"

"Ya ain't plannin' on cuttin' ma dick off are ya?"

"Nope." He giggled. "I'll be real careful, Terry."

"I know that. That's why I'm havin' ya do it. Bein' close to someone means trustin' 'em."

"I can really do that to yer dick?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. So how do I do it?"

I leaned down and picked up the can of shaving cream from the side of the bath. "Hold out yer hands, Ace."

I squirted a handful of foam into his cupped hands, stepped out of the torrent of shower water and told him to rub it over my groin. Grinning, Ty did what he was told. Suddenly, my genitals became as slippery as his body had been when it was soapy. His fingers kneaded my testicles, tugged my penis, rubbed around my pubis until everything was covered in foamy lather. Already, he knew how to touch me for maximum effect, both roughly and gently, providing that sensuous mix of sensations that I found highly arousing. He had magic fingers. I became erect, straining stiff and thick between his hands. He grinned up at me shamelessly proud of what he had done.

"Okay, that's enough or you'll have me cummin' all over ya any second," I said breathlessly.

He grinned and I handed him the razor, one of those triple blade razors that cost three times the price of any other razor. It had a new blade, fitted only that morning when I had to shave off two days' stubble.

"Take it easy till ya get tha hang of it," I instructed.

"Ya sure ya want me ta do this, Terry? Ya don't have to…"

"What I want is fer ya ta suck me off," I smirked. "If this is what it takes ta get ya to do it, then get busy boy."

Ty hesitated. "Ya don't have ta," he relented. "I'll do it anyway, Terry." He looked up at me. "Tha hair ain't that bad."

"Just git ta work, Ace," I grumbled. "It'll grow back soon enough."

Then, realizing that I had pushed him too far, I laughed. "I'm just kiddin' with ya. I want ya to do it, Ace. I always wondered what my dick would look like if it was bald."

"Ya really want me…"

"Shave it off, Ace. Besides, there ain't no one but you who's gonna know."

"What if we go skinny dippin' 'gain with 'em?"

I shrugged. "It ain't gonna be a problem. Trust me, Ace. Anyways, it ain't none of their business."

"Okay… so how do I do it?" Ty asked seriously.

I took hold of his left hand and placed in on my penis, pulling it down and out of the way. I pointed with my finger where he should make the first stroke, from my lower belly onto my groin.

"It's kinda hard," Ty complained after his first clumsy stroke.

The angle had been wrong and all he had succeeded in doing was scraping of some of the lather and a few dark hairs.

"My dick?"

"Duh! Yeah, it's like a baseball bat, but I meant doin' this."

"Yer angle ain't right, that's why. Kneel down… like yer gonna blow me," I teased.

"I will when I'm done," Ty announced boldly. "'cause I promised ya."

I shook my head. All I had intended to do was to torment him. I was looking forward to him fulfilling his promise, but only if he wanted to. If he wanted to do it then I wanted it to be later, when we had the rest of the night, not a hurried effort because he thought it was something he had to do. I wanted it to last, and I wanted to have something to look forward to. After all, half of any memorable experience is the anticipation.

"Why not?" He sounded agitated, almost anxious.

"'cause… I want yer first time to be good. We ain't spoilin' it by rushin' it."

Ty giggled and sank to his knees. "Okay," he said as he reached up to take hold of my penis again. "Let's shave this bad boy."

His second stroke was far more effective if only because he levered my erection to the side and out of the way. He made a long pass, going carefully and slowly to remove a clump of thick hair. He left a trail of pale smooth skin behind. He glanced up at me for reassurance.

"Okay," I said, nodding. It looked awfully bare. "Now do tha other side tha same way, Ace."

"I missed some but."

"Yeah ya did. It ain't a problem. Ya can always go back and git 'em later. "

He concentrated on the task at hand, making several strokes in quick succession. After the fourth or fifth stroke, my pubis was denuded except for a few stray hairs. It looked very strange.

"What about yer balls?" he asked. After a second, he glanced up. "I'll suck 'em too, if I get to shave 'em."

"Better do 'em do too then," I said, wondering if the skin would itch when the hair began to reappear. That was the problem with shaving. The hair would start to grow back with a few days.

"Okay…"

"Ya know, now we done it, Ace, yer gonna have to shave it every time we shower."

Yeah?" He sounded much happier than he had been a minute earlier. His confidence was growing quickly. "Why?"

"'cause the hairs'll start growin' back real fast 'n I plan on gettin' sucked off once a day."

He nodded slightly, hesitantly, smiling for an instant before his lips clamped and his head lowered quickly. It was difficult for him, however his fingers scooped up my scrotum, fondling the contents. Balls that were so much larger than his own, that a single one of mine was larger than everything he had there. His fingers squeezed a little too hard for comfort and I very nearly yelped. Yet, his almost massage had the desired effect of encouraging my scrotum to relax even further.

"Tha skin is so soft, Terry," he observed breathily. "It feels just like mine, only bigger."

"Ya gonna shave it or not," I asked. He seemed to be having second thoughts.

"Ya really want me ta?"

Truthfully, I was beginning to enjoy the appearance of the 'shaved look'. As I looked down, all I could see was smooth hairless skin. He had shaved from my belly to my groin. Since I didn't have particularly hairy legs, I looked like a boy again, albeit over-endowed, and if it meant that Ty would be willing to have oral sex, it was sacrificed in a good cause.

"Might as well, Ace. There ain't no point in havin' hairy balls if tha rest is smooth, now is there?"

Ty giggled. "If we shave 'em then I'll have ta suck yer balls too, won't I?" He sounded positively tickled by the prospect.

"Hm… yeah, well that's tha idea, ain't it?"

"I suppose ya think they're gonna fit."

. Hm… I think they will, if ya open real wide. I like tha idea of seein' ya try."

"Yeah, I thought ya would, Terry," he mocked.

He brought the razor closer, holding it gingerly between one finger and his thumb. He did a remarkably good job on his first attempt, barely touching the skin. Given the sharpness of the razor it was all that required. However, even as cautious as he was, he still nicked me once. He stopped the instant I winced.

"God, I'm sorry," he groaned miserably. "I was tryin' to be careful."

"You and me both, Ace. Just don't be cuttin' my balls off 'cause I ain't goin' to be no use to you or anyone else if that happens."

He smiled, appreciating the humor.

"No way, Jose! I'm real sorry, Terry."

"I think I'll live given the injury."

"Terry?" he asked, looking up.

"Yeah?"

"Ya ain't mad at me are ya?"

"Why would I be mad at ya?"

"Fer makin' ya do this."

"Duh!"

That seemed to satisfy him and he made another slow cautious stroke and washed off the strands of fine hair that accumulated under the razor edge. His brow furrowed as he continued to work. His face was so close to my groin that he squinted in order to focus.

"Some of 'em ball hairs is so fine ya cain't barely see 'em, Terry," he complained. He glanced up again after the stroke was completed. "Ya don't mind? Really? Ya know I would'a sucked ya even if ya said no."

"Geez! Like I care about some dumb hair. Actually, I think it looks kinda cool."

"Ya look like a little boy," Ty said with amusement. His free hand encircled my stiff penis, tugging playfully. "Now he's just like mine 'cept yer dick is humongous and yer legs are all hairy."

"Bigger 'n yer three inches [7½ cm] huh?"

He nodded seriously, deep in thought, not interesting in disputing size. "Ya know somethin' , Terry, Ms. Delaware would have a fit."

"'bout you shavin' a guys dick and balls?"

He grinned from ear to ear. "Yeah, that too. Mostly I was thinkin' 'bout how we talk. You and me. We sound like a coupla dumb hicks."

"It's hard ta change ya know, Ace. Once ya get into tha habit, it's hard ta break."

"I guess. Ms. Delaware, she used ta say I weren't dumb, but speakin' like this made me sound dumb."

"Yer smart as any kid I know, Ace." I patted his wet head affectionately. He looked sexy even with his hair dark and clumped together. "There's different kinds of smarts if ya ask me. There's some that comes outta books, but some cain't be learned. Ya either got it or ya don't. Ya liked her, huh?"

"Ms. Delaware? Yeah, I guess. I think she worried about me a lot."

"She ain't the only one who worries about ya," I remarked carelessly.

Ty shrugged, not noticing or caring what I had said. He playfully tugged on my scrotum again before coming to his feet. "Yer all done, big boy."

"Okay. Now I get ta shave yer legs, right?"

"No way! I ain't no girl." he jumped back, laughing. "Anyway, it ain't like I got hairy legs like yers."

"Really? I thought I saw some fuzz."

It was a lie. Ty was one of those few boys with no noticeable hair other than the hair on his head and a little silky fuzz on his forearms.

"If I do, it ain't anywhere near yers. You got fur all over."

"I'm not shavin' everythin'."

"What if I said…" He smirked teasingly, eyeing me up and down.

"Yeah?"

"Nuthin', Terry."

"Okay. What do I get to do to ya if I ain't gettin' sucked till tonight?" I teased.

Ty considered the inequity, or lack thereof. The payoff for my pubic hair being removed had been put aside for a while. It had a become a game, quid pro quo.

"Ya know them sticker tattoos?"

"Uh huh."

He smirked and nodded. "I was goin' to put one of 'em on when I got outta tha shower. I'll let ya put it on me, okay?"

"Just one? How about all of 'em?"

"Yeah, I guess," he answered reluctantly.

"Anywhere I want?"

"No way!… Well, okay… if ya put 'em where no one else sees 'em," he said conspiratorially. His finger touched a few inches below his navel, then close to his crotch. "That's between here and here."

"That ain't much ta work with," I complained. "I was thinkin' of puttin' that one of tha eagle 'bout here," I said, touching his chest.

"Okay, that one's okay but none of tha others. They ain't gonna be seen by no one but you."

We left the shower and dried off. By the time we had finished in the bathroom it looked like a scene from a tornado. There were towels strewn from one side to the other. Drying off was a long process because Ty insisted on kneeing down to examine his handiwork.

"Yer dick looks so weird like that," he announced from beneath me. He grinned up at me. "What if boys my age had weenies tha size a yers?"

"Yeah, that would be quite a sight," I agreed. "It'd probably bruise yer skinny little legs just walkin' around with it bangin' from side ta side. 'course, with a hard-on, you'd be able to suck yerself."

I pretended to cuff him on the side of the head. It ended up as a headlock that lifted him up from the floor.

"Hey! What's the deal?" he demanded.

"Yer gonna suck it, right?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna suck it. I told yer I would."

"And swallow too? A promise is a promise," I reminded him.

Ty rolled his eyes, then promptly formed his lips into a large 'O' shape in mock preparation. He even made himself gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing agitatedly. I could easily imagine his lips around my cock, the head pressing far enough into his cheek to make it bulge out.

"Okay!" I said triumphantly. "But I'm gonna fill yer cute little mouth, Ace. You'll be drinkin' somethin' white and it ain't gonna be milk," I boasted.

With his head still locked beneath my arm, I guided him into the bedroom and heaved him onto the bed. It felt good to be the one in control for a change. He sprawled naked and narcissistic onto the floral-patterned bed cover, disturbing the neatly made bed as he relocated one of the pillows under his head. I stood above him, observing how his arms stretched back, his knees fell apart. Without question he was showing himself off to me. It was hard to imagine a more beautiful body? A more gorgeous face? He was Heekin's All-American boy. What had Heekin said about Ty? He had said everything except that my boy was sexy? He was that, and more, and it was so obvious that it did not need to stated aloud. His eyes met mine. He breathed slowly, deeply. The urge to make love to him was overpowering. Never before had I experienced temptation so great that I was unable to control myself. However, that was how I felt. Any indication that he wanted to have sex with me, even the slightest encouragement, and it would have been over right there and then. Even a nod would have been enough and I would have stuck my dick into his butt. I wondered whether it would hurt him when I took that final step with him.

"We're going to be late, Terry," he murmured softly, yet distinctly.

"So?" I grumbled.

He was back to trying to speak properly again, struggling with guilt, trying so hard to be someone he wanted to be, to meet the expectations of people he admired, to be what Ms. Delaware wanted him to be. I wondered what I wanted him to be. Although he had said nothing to the effect, I had the feeling that he admired me as much as I admired him. I had become an important part of his life. We were rapidly becoming more than good friends.

"I'm hungry," he announced plaintively.

"Yer always hungry," I said.

"Yeah, well I'm a growing boy, ain't I?" Ty remonstrated. He licked his lips, then his eyes flickered away, searching the room pointlessly. He was still uncertain, still trying to understand, what was going through his head.

"Yeah, I guess ya are. Only some parts ain't growed all that much."

"Terry?" He looked back at me.

"Yeah, babe?"

He didn't answer. His hand absently stroked his inner thigh, moving gradually onto his lengthening penis. His fingertips stroked the blue-hued tip of his penis, feeling the increased fullness as his stiffness increased. His erection had diminished while we were drying off, but not for long.

"Terry, if you're going to do the tattoo things… We had better get a move on."

"No playin' around, huh?"

He smiled slightly, wistfully, still thoughtful. "We're saving that for tonight, remember."

I moved away from the bed. We had come so close. It would have been easy to have laid onto the bed beside him. It would have taken only a few minutes of playing with his penis, a finger inserted in his anus, and he would succumb. I knew how to get him in the mood. My penis ached to be inside him, either his mouth or his butt, but I respected him too much to do something without his consent.

His belongings, most of which had been in my suitcase, had taken up an untidy residence on the couch for the duration of our stay in Ventura. Again, I made a mental note to buy him his own suitcase when my credit card was back in use. The tattoos were not amongst his clothes where I expected to find them. Instead, they had been placed in the bottom of my suitcase. I lifted them out, looking at the back of each of them for instructions that were more useful than 'Easy to apply. Made in Taiwan'.

"Okay, so how do I put them on?" I asked.

"They're so fuckin' easy. They're transfers, Terry."

"That's helpful. It ain't comin' off the paper," I said, scratching at the edge.

"'course it ain't comin' off. Ya gotta soak 'em first."

"What happened to Eliza Doolittle, Professor Higgins?" I asked in my best upper class accent, which sounded terrible even to my ears.

"Who's that?"

"Duh! They're characters in a book, Ace. Pygmalion. It was by George Bernard Shaw. We had to read it in high school, if I'm not mistaken."

Ty shrugged disinterestedly.

"Eliza's a cockney flower seller…" I explained.

"A what?"

"A flower seller."

"I think I know what a fuckin' flower seller is by now," Ty said derisively. "The other thing you said. The cock knee part? Is that instead of kneeing someone in the balls?"

I laughed. "It's a… you know something, I'm not exactly sure whether it's a place or a type of person. I know that its someone who speaks like we do, except they're in England."

"Cool." He made it sound boring.

"Professor um… What was his name?… Henry something. Higgins? Yes, I'm sure that's him. Anyway, he's an expert in dialects. He takes her in and teaches her how to speak correctly," I explained. My accent had a strong nasal tone, pretending to be English. "Ah, how did it go? Yes, I think she's got it." I paused for effect, thinking Ty would laugh. It sounded ridiculous even to me. "It's where the 'rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain came from," I ended.

"How do ya know that stuff?"

"Well, see, I ain't so dumb, least not as dumb as I look. I did go to high school, ya know Ace." My accent was back to normal, basic south of the Mason-Dixon line.

"Ya ain't so dumb!" Ty grinned mischievously. "Least ways yer no dumber than me."

I went into the bathroom to get water for the transfers. It had been years since I used transfers on model cars, but I remembered the process more or less.

"Ya went, but did yer finish high school, Terry?" Ty called out in his teasing voice.

"Duh! Yes, I finished high school, ass hole. In fact, I went to college too."

He laughed. "Yeah, right! Podunk College!"

"Nope. Not even close."

"Okay. Hm… how about… then ya went ta Folsom College?" he cackled.

I laughed. "I suppose you could say I did my time, except it wasn't at Folsom Prison…"

"So how long was ya in fer?" Ty laughed. "Ya know Paul's dad did two years fer car stealin'."

"He should have gotten life for what he did to your friend, Paul."

Ty exhaled. "I told mamaw what he done, ya know, but she weren't about to do any thin' ta stop him. Doin' nuthin' is her way unless it's costin' her money."

"A lot of people are like that, Ty. They figure why should they get involved in something that isn't their business."

He considered that for about two seconds or less. "So Terry, when ya did time, was it fer stealin' tha slow Pontiac 'a yers?"

I chuckled. "Actually, the time I did was four years of mechanical engineering at Georgia Tech. That's a college in Atlanta. It was before I took up race cars, Ace."

"Really?" He sounded somewhere between impressed and disbelieving.

"Yes, really. I had a good job too when I graduated. I worked at GM's design center in Detroit for a couple of years. In fact, I designed a new braking system for them."

I wish I had the patent, I thought. Money would not be a problem then. Instead, I received the company's Invention of the Year Award, worth all of five thousand dollars.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," I answered. "It never made it to production."

"Why?"

"Partly because it was too expensive. They sold the patent to a company in Italy by the name of Brembo," I said, thinking that Ty would have no idea what I was talking about.

"No shit? Brembo? Yer kiddin' right? I read 'bout 'em. They're s'posed to be hot shit fer braking. They put 'em on like Ferraris and all."

My self-esteem went up a few notches and I smiled to myself as I examined the transfers floating in the sink. "How wet do these have to be, Ace?" I called out.

"Pretty wet. So's tha transfer's loose. But ya don't want ta get 'em too wet or they don't stick on so good."

"I got one just about slippin' off the paper."

"Then they're probably all ready."

I picked them out of the basin and carried them back into the bedroom. Ty looked up. He was fingering his penis, not quite erect but not far from it.

"You still playin' with that tiny thang?" I teased. "Poor thang's gonna drop off from overuse," I said with my Texan twang that was guaranteed to get a laugh from Bobbie. It worked on Ty too.

Ty smirked. "Dicks don't drop off. They just get red and sore if ya jack too much."

"Ain't no such thang as a boy jackin' too much," I shot back. "'specially if he's still shootin' blanks."

Ty grinned, moving his hand away from temptation. "Ya learn much at college?"

"Yep."

He considered that. "Ya know somethin'? I didn't really know why at tha time, but Ms. Delaware told me once I gotta go to college," Ty announced as I came over the bed he was lying on.

"She's right, Ace. If it was up to me you'd go to college. Ideally, you'd go on to get some kind of advanced degree. Anything except marketing that is. I wouldn't want ya turning out like Heekin."

Ty smiled. His impression of Pierce Heekin was not much different to mine. I gazed down at him. Naked as a jaybird, as beautiful a sight as any man could ever see. I loved the way his hair changed color when it was wet. It was still blond, but it was much darker.

"Ya like that Ms. Del-ware a lot don't ya?" I asked.

"Yeah, she's cool."

"Ya oughta send her a postcard or somethin', so she knows yer doin' okay," I suggested.

I regretted saying that almost immediately, but only because of the cost of the postcard and stamp. It could be as much as a dollar, and that was a dollar I did not have to spend right then. For no other reason, I wished I had a million dollars to give Ty whatever he wanted.

"I cain't see tha point of doin' that college stuff, not if I'm drivin' a race car like you," Ty remarked.

"It'd be a waste if that's all you did," I agreed. "The pits are full of young hotshots, Ace. Most of 'em don't know shit about how the cars are put together. Tha best drivers are the ones who understand tha technical stuff."

"Bobbie knows it better 'n anyone, ya said so yerself Terry, and he didn't go to no college."

I laughed. "True, but he's got me to help him out."

"So I got you. When yer too old ta drive, ya can work fer my team," Ty said decisively.

He giggled and I laughed. With one hand I pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him, my legs clamped on either side of his knees. That way he could not get away if he decided to try to escape. Silently, as I gazed down at his lean naked body, I relished my position of dominance. I think we both realized that he was the one in control because he only had to say 'no' and I would have climbed off him immediately. Instead, his giggle became a grin and he placed both arms behind his head, stretching his chest and belly so that the skin was drum-tight. It was all I could to stop from leaning forward and smooching his lean brown body. Before me was a sight so inviting, so tantalizing, so shamelessly sensual that I could not remember being so aroused. My erection stuck straight out, hovering over Ty's thighs. There was pre-cum glistening on the tip, oozing steadily out of the slit. He ignored it. His own penis was no less stiff, just a whole lot smaller. It looked like a finger sticking up from his groin, a delicious, very suckable finger. It would have been so easy to scoot back another foot or so and lean forward. Ty smiled at me as if he could read my mind. His penis jerked slightly, flexing deliberately.

"Someone's happy," I observed.

"Duh… No shit!"

His penis jumped again, lifting up to greet me. Even his scrotum drew up, pulling his testicles higher until they were like marbles on either side of his straining erection. It was beautiful to watch. I licked my lips, imagining how it would feel. Hot and hard, sweet and soft, and smooth, so smooth that it would melt inside my mouth. Ty's eyes flickered. He inhaled, using the muscles inside his lower abdomen to make his erection pulse hungrily.

"Ya want me ta suck ya off?" I murmured.

He did not answer immediately. Finally, he shook his head slightly. "Tonight, okay? We can sixty-nine then if ya want," he added tersely.

He tensed, his eyes seeking mine, his penis quivering with excitement, waiting. He radiated 'sex', and he knew it. We were so close to the edge that we could both sense it yawning before us. All it would take was a tiny push.

"I might just take ya up on that," I replied as calmly as I could under the circumstances. "Now, where are we gonna put these tattoos? How about we put this one right above yer belly button. Ace?"

I held it up for him to read. In bold letters, it proclaimed 'SEXY' in brilliant red, orange and neon blue.

Ty erupted in a fit of giggles. "Ya do and yer doin' tha explainin' if anyone fuckin' sees it."

"Where do ya want it then, boy?"

He pointed to just above his groin and waited for my response. It was so large that it would reach nearly all the way across his lower abdomen and then the bottom edge would be almost touching his penis. There was obviously no hair to get in the way and his pubis was so prominent that it would probably distort the transfer, but it was the ideal location and the ideal message. He was sexy, incredibly sexy.

"Why should I go ta college? It didn't do you no good," Ty continued unabated. He had the ability to divert his thoughts at short notice. I wished that I could do that.

I carefully lifted the transfer off the paper backing and positioned it on his lower belly. Merely touching him sent a shiver through me. My hand trembled as I smoothed out the bubbles with my finger tip until a trickle of water escaped beside his penis and dribbled down his loose scrotum.

"Yeah, it did. I learned about how to engineer a car."

"Maybe. But it don't make no difference to how ya talk, least ways ya don't talk no different ta me, Terry."

"It ain't a matter of how ya talk," I explained, settling into a deep southern twang that would at a minimum have raised eyebrows, if not gotten me fired when I worked in Detroit. "It's what ya got ta say that's important."

Ty considered that, sitting up part of the way to observe my handiwork on his lower belly. "Awesome, huh? It looks cool."

"Yeah, only I would'a said hot, not cool," I agreed wholeheartedly. Ty smiled and I added, "real hot!"

"Hot as in sexy, huh? 'SEXY'," he laughed. "Yeah, that's me fer sure."

"You are," I said simply.

Ty didn't answer for a moment. When he did, it was to change the subject to something less personal. "They cost so much, it's a pity they don't last more 'n a coupla days."

"Yeah, but maybe that's a good thing, Ace."

"Why?"

"'cause it'll wear off fast. I mean ya never know when someone might see yer bare."

"Ain't no one seein' me there, 'exceptin' you Terry."

That made me feel strange. It sounded as if he was reserving himself for me. I was possessive by nature so I naturally liked the idea. The funny thing was that I also liked the idea of other people knowing how sexy he was. It was like 'look but don't touch because this boy is mine'. It was almost unnatural, but the thought of other men lusting after Ty excited me. It would have been different if Ty was lusting after other men, but I couldn't see that happening, not if I treated him right. There was always a risk, but I took it anyway just to see what happened.

I winked meaningfully. "'course, ya hear it said all tha time, it pays ta advertise. If ya want ta strut yer stuff, I ain't gettin' in yer way, Ace."

He rolled his eyes and gave me a 'tired of talking about it' look.

"Well, it's true," I continued unabated.

I could tell that he wanted to drop the matter, but I couldn't. It was difficult trying to find the words to express what I wanted to say. "If ya got what it takes to turn someone on, there ain't no point in bein' ashamed of it."

He smiled slightly, lowering his defense. "Maybe, but I'm wearin' it fer you. I like havin' it down there where no one's gonna know I got it on. It's gonna be our secret," he added conspiratorially.

I grinned. It was like he had taken a test and passed with flying colors. "Every time yer wearin' shorts I'll be wearin' a hard-on just thinkin' about ya."

"That's tha idea," Ty smirked.

"Okay, how about tha next one goin' right here? Yeah…" I said, nodding my head. "I figure it'd be perfect fer tha All-American boy," I decided, tapping his chest midway between his two tiny nipples.

"Which one?" Ty asked cheerfully. He liked being the center of attention. "Tha eagle right?" he asked uncertainly.

"Uh huh. Yer gonna look real patriotic whenever ya take yer shirt off, Ace."

He grinned and lay back on the bed, again placing his hands under his head. He gazed up at me as I leaned over him, peeled off the damp paper from the tattoo, and carefully placed the thin wet plastic film on his chest. The baldheaded eagle was in flight, huge wings outspread, talons extended, its beak cruelly curved. The tips of its wings nearly brushed his nipples.

"It's way bigger than I thought," I observed. "Ya want I can take it off?"

"No way! I'm makin' a statement," Ty claimed gleefully.

"Now, if it was up to me the others are goin' on yer butt."

He smiled. "It's too soon, Terry. Ya gotta let 'em dry a bit before ya move around."

Since it was obvious that nothing interesting was about to happen, at least not until the transfers were dry, I clambered off him to sit on the bed. He wriggled higher so the pillow was under his head.

"So. Ya wanna watch some TV?"

TY shrugged ambivalently. Unlike most boys his age, he was not a television fiend, unless it was Sunday afternoon nascar racing or ESPN was showing repeats of the weekend speedway action.

"Ya don't need ta go ta college to drive a race car do ya?" he asked absently.

"Nope."

It was the truth. There were a lot of very successful drivers with less than a high school education.

"So it was a waste fer ya then, weren't it? Ya could'a been drivin' for them years? If ya did, ya would'a been winnin' races."

"Probably," I conceded. He was partly right. "Assumin' I had the money to get started. My job provided most a the money fer my first car."

"What was it?"

"Ya don't wanna know," I laughed, not that it was a laughing matter. "Okay, if ya must know… Fer a few years I was drivin' stock cars."

"Ya really drove stock?"

"Yeah, go figure."

"Man, I cain't believe ya done that first?"

"Yeah. Actually, I had a couple of 'em before I moved up to nascar."

"Wow! See, that's what I wanna do in a few years when I grow up, Terry."

"Forget it Ty!"

"Why?"

"Because racin' on a dirt track is fer fuckin' dummies… well fer idiots, I mean. Most of 'em cain't drive worth a damn. Yer lucky if they can keep outta yer way, so it's dangerous as hell. Plus the money sucks. There's better ways to get into racin'."

"So?" he demanded arrogantly. "If it's what I want, what's it to ya?"

"For one simple reason, Ace. I think yer better than that!"

"What's that s'posed ta mean?"

I smiled. If only he knew. Having seen him driving karts during the day I was more than convinced he was a natural, like Gordon Jeffries had been at the same age. I touched his lean belly, determining that the tattoo above his groin was almost dry.

"Ya got yer future all figured out, don't ya Ace?" I asked casually.

Ty pursed his lips, not at all certain what to say in response. "I ain't got no future, right. That's what yer tellin' me, ain't ya Terry. I'm wastin' my time dreamin' 'bout drivin' race cars. I might as well go back to that fuckin' dump of a trailer 'n kill myself."

I shook my head sadly. "Yer so young, Ty. Ya got yer whole life ahead a ya. There ain't no big rush ta do everythin' right away. If ya take the time to think what's best fer ya in the long haul 'fore ya jump into somethin', yer gonna go a whole lot further."

"Whatever! Ya gonna put tha rest a 'em tattoos on me or what?" he asked. "I'm hungry 'n I ain't feelin' like waitin' till tomorrow mornin' ta eat, ya know."

I thought I detected a note of impatience mixed with frustration. He was like that sometimes. It would take time before he learned to trust someone, particularly when he had already decided otherwise. It helped that he respected me.

I laughed. "It's sounds like ma boy's gettin' a mite hungry on me."

"Duh! Hungry ain't tha word fer it. What if my belly's aching fer somethin' in it?"

There was a hint of a smile. His eyes slowly came up to meet mine. From the almost shy look on his face, he had to be thinking the same that I was.

"Pity. There sure ain't nuthin' here ta eat, Ace. 'course if yer real hungry I got somethin' here for ya to chew on fer a while," I teased, playfully rubbing my hand across my crotch.

"In yer dreams…" He grinned suddenly. "Or after dinner, whatever comes first."

I laughed and playfully tugged his now limp dick down. He didn't complain so I took it by the head with a finger and thumb, stretching it out a few inches before I let go. It was a lot thinner stretched out.

"Now, that's four inches [10 cm], Ace. Only it's just a bit on tha skinny side. People would start callin' ya 'pencil-dick'."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." He rolled his eyes and gave me another one of his practiced 'dumber-than-dirt' looks.

"Where do ya want 'em, Ace?" I said picking up the two remaining transfers. "It's getting' kinda crowded on yer front."

"Duh! I thought you was tha one decidin'." Ty grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mischief. "Anyway, ya better git a move on or we're gonna be so fuckin' late we'll miss dessert."

"Okay, okay!," I pretended to grumble. Just looking at that broad boyish grin was enough to take my mind of whatever I was doing. "Man, yer gettin' to be worse than Bobbie. Fer a kid, ya sure give a lot or orders, don't ya? Hm… so if I'm decidin' then I guess that pretty much leaves yer butt…" I said, pretending to think aloud as I examined the two transfers. "We got 'STOP' and 'KEEP DREAMING' left. Yeah, I guess we gotta put 'em on yer butt, 'cause that's where they belong. That's fer sure. At least I ain't dreamin' any more about suckin' yer weenie."

Ty did not stop grinning. With the wet transfers decorating his front, it was impossible for him to simply roll over onto his belly. Instead, he carefully climbed off the bed and stood up. He stood straight and tall, a superb specimen of prepubescent boyhood, I thought to myself. It was difficult to imagine a more perfect body, certainly it wasn't possible on any member of the opposite sex. I stared silently, gratified merely to be in his presence.

"Well?"

He sounded like a nine-point-five on the petulance scale. However, he was not the type of boy to be petulant. He was getting anxious, almost frustrated. I knew that feeling. Living even a couple of days with Ty was guaranteed to make any man frustrated. The problem was that I was not sure why was upset. Perhaps it was a matter of him being hungry, but part of me wanted to think of his impatience as being more than food-driven. Even though his penis had remained half erect throughout, I wanted to believe that he was being aroused, just as I was excited by the bizarre thing we were doing.

I had never considered myself to be 'kinky' when it came to sex, but seeing Ty before me, his body decorated with two colorful transfer tattoos, with one proclaiming he was 'SEXY' only an inch away from his penis, sent a weird thrill through me. In a way, I was putting my mark of ownership on him, temporary though it was. And then, for no reason at all, I thought about him getting a permanent tattoo. It would have to be something small, hidden on his body where no one but me would see it, some symbol that was as identifiable as a VIN number, something that was uniquely me. That way, he would be mine. I almost erupted thinking about that possibility. Hesitantly, Ty's eyes met mine, but just for a few moments. I had the unsettling feeling that he knew what I was thinking. He shook his head ever so slightly.

"Okay…" I muttered self-consciously. "Let's put this one here… 'STOP'! I sure hope it's one that wears off fast." I laughed as I slid the transfer across from the paper onto Ty's small buttock.

"What's so fuckin' funny?" he demanded brazenly, his hands on his hips. He glared at me, trying his best not to laugh.

"Whoa! And I thought we were supposed to be watching how we spoke?" I challenged.

It felt good to have the upper hand for a change, even better to be the one who was keeping Ty in line. He glanced at me, surprised.

"Yeah, no fuckin' shit!" he shot back. "Anyways, yer always sayin' fuck all tha time."

"Do not!"

"Yeah ya do. Only ya do it when ya think I cain't hear ya."

"Well, it ain't right fer a kid yer age to be using words like that all tha time," I countered.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It ain't me whose speech we oughta be worryin' 'bout Terry, 'cause I don't need a sponsor do I?" Ty smirked.

"Good point. You don't need a sponsor, except for the fact that someone's got to pay the bills for your kart. I figure it'll cost at least a coupe of thousand a year to run it. More if ya start gettin' real competitive."

"It ain't gonna be an issue," Ty said confidently. "Least not when I got yer credit card takin' care a the bills. Yer better than a sponsor," he added with a bold smirk.

"Now what makes ya think I'm gonna do that?"

Ty's expression was as smug as it could be. "'cause ya will," he said, turning around so that his back was to me.

"Uh huh." The inflexion should have been enough to get his attention. It did. His head turned back again, looking over his shoulder.

"'cause ya like me."

"Like? Hm… so you figure I like you enough to spend that much money on you?"

"Yeah." Again, that same supremely confident voice from a boy who had never had a reason to be confident in his whole life.

"Well, I ain't about to say 'keep dreamin', sexy," I laughed, carefully relocating the transfer towards his small crevice. The closer it went, the more I liked it. Already, the 'Y' was almost out of sight between his pinched firm cheeks. That way it said 'SEX'. And sex was what I wanted. His bottom had been alluring before, but now that it had its own advertising, it was pure temptation. I had to swallow before I could breath again.

"Okay, ya wanna share tha big joke?"

"Nuthin'. I was just thinkin' how sexy yer butt is, Ace. There ain't no need to advertise it, that's fer sure, it is sure looks hot with this on it. Why a man would ever want pussy when there's butts like yers is beyond me."

"'cause it don't want some big hairy dick rammed inside it?" Ty chided.

"Hey, it ain't hairy."

"Okay, some big bald dick, then. It ain't the hair that's tha problem, Terry. It's tha dick goin' inside part I'm sayin' no to."

Playfully, I slid my thumb into the crevice below the tattoo and pretended to search around for his anus.

"Man, talk 'bout a chicken-ass. Yer so tight back here I cain't find it."

"That's 'cause ya ain't pushin' in tha right place, ya dummy," Ty sniggered.

"Hm… higher or lower?" I teased, sliding my thumb along his crevice.

"Any lower and yer gonna be squeezin' my nuts."

"Yer mean this tiny thing is yer ass-hole? I was thinkin' it was a pimple on yer ass or somethin'." I asked, jabbing my thumb at the puckered indentation I had passed on the way.

"Duh! What did ya 'xpect? It ain't like it's a pussy."

"There ain't no way my dick's gettin' in here without a whole lot of pushin'."

"Duh!" Ty snorted again in derision. "That's what I've been tellin' you, Terry. There ain't no way yer doin' that if ya ain't winnin' races," he repeated, emphasizing each and every word.

"Yeah, well yer time will come 'fore long Ace. I plan on collectin' what's mine sooner or later, so ya better start getting' it loosened up. I reckon a banana would be 'bout right."

Ty laughed nervously. "Fer yer dick, Terry, I oughta start out usin' a cucumber 'n work up to a melon. That is assumin' ya can ever get yer car in front and stay there long enough ta win."

"Who needs ta win?" I said teasingly. "All I gotta do is get ya in tha mood."

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen. A deal's a deal, Terry. I figure my ass is real safe."

It was a last ditch effort to defy me. He sounded resolute. Everything I had learned about him so far confirmed my first impression that he was one very daring boy. Plucky, gutsy, spirited, were words that had been invented for Ty Kincaid.

"Yeah, well it don't matter 'cause I plan on winnin' real soon," I said dryly.

"And just how do ya plan on doin' that?"

"By drivin' tha car like that kart. See, I'm gonna have Bobbie set the suspension up different, make it less fer goin' fast in a straight line and more 'bout handlin'."

"I cain't see tha point. There ain't that many corners on a nascar track," Ty said complacently.

He glanced over his shoulder again, skewing his head and neck to see what I was doing. I gave a final adjustment to the transfer. 'SEXY' was definitely the word to describe a preteen boy's butt when it looked like Ty's. Luckily, no one else but me would see it, not unless he did something stupid like going naked on a public beach.

"Duh, no shit! Actually, drivin' tha kart today got me ta thinkin' 'bout how much I use the wheel durin' a race. Yer right, Ace, there ain't no corners ta speak of on most of tha circuits, but the car's still movin' around a lot. I'm plannin' on drivin' a lot different from now on, Ty."

"Ya gonna finish them tattoos tonight? I'm starvin' ta death."

"I'm workin' on it, Ace. Hm… I figure we'll put 'KEEP DREAMING' right about here…"

I slapped his other buttock, not too hard, but hard enough to make a loud smack. He pretended to yelp. My hand stayed there, stroking the rounded flesh, pressing fingertips between the small cheeks into the hidden crevice.

"Here, so I can always see it. That way, I ain't forgettin' what I'm aimin' fer." I brought my head close to his and said, "'cause I am gonna win real soon, Ty, and when I do…"

I lowered my voice to a whisper as a single fingertip grazed his anus. It was tight, tighter than I expected, a tiny wrinkled knot that would have denied even the most determined entry.

"I'm makin' yer little butt hole a whole lot bigger."

"Says you!" Ty sniggered. "Ya wouldn't know what to do even if ya did manage ta win a race."

"I know enough, Ace, 'n what I don't know, I can ask Bobbie if I have ta."

"No fuckin' way. I know ya better than that. Ya ain't gonna ask him nuthin', 'specially 'bout how ta put it in a boy."

"Ha! Don't bet on it, Ace. I probably won't have ta, anyway. Ya might be ma first boy, but I figure what ya got back there ain't no different to a pussy. Ya just stick it in and hump like crazy. I know a boy who ain't gonna be sittin' down fer a week after I'm done."

Ty giggled nervously. I regretted what I had said, but it was too late. I had not wanted to say it like that, not at all like that. It came out as far too threatening. Despite Ty's outwardly brave exterior, I was beginning to realize that the boy within was not nearly as brave as he wanted me to think. Every day we spent together he seemed to become increasingly anxious. He was changing slowly but surely, although I was not at sure what the change was.

Any way I thought about it, what I had said to him was wrong, especially when all I wanted to do was to tease him. I wanted him to know how much I desired him. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, that I wanted to make love to him, but it wasn't in my character to be passionate, at least not in words.

"You are so fuckin' sexy," I murmured.

He didn't respond. Again, I had said the wrong thing. The silence endured between us. He was the first to speak, and when he did, his voice was trembling.

"Just stick it on me, and forget about what you want ta stick in me. I told you like a hundred times that I'm starvin'."

I thought about apologizing, I really did. It wasn't the time. Ty took time to cool down when he was like this. he wasn't angry, even when he was short with me. Despite what I knew to be true, I still followed my worst instincts.

"Yeah, me too. Ya know, if ya wanted I could put it on upside down, Ace? That way I could read it when we're sixtynining 'n I'm suckin' on yer cute little boy-dick?" I suggested.

Even to my voice it sounded half-hearted. It wasn't funny, not like I wanted it to be.

"Yeah, but ya know somethin'? Until ya win that race, Terry, it'll still read 'keep dreamin'," Ty said softly in what seemed to me to be a scared voice.

It was only then that I realized the difference between an adult's sense of humor and that of a child. He didn't think it was funny, not in the slightest.

Chapter 12

In the end, it all came down to smiles. That was how I knew that something had changed between us. We sat in our crummy rental car for ten minutes exchanging nervous smiles like a couple of southern boys who had too many relatives in common. They were almost unconscious smiles, smiles that were all about secrets, about something finally being shared! Somewhere along the way it had become more than just two guys getting hard-ons and needing to get off. Ty and I weren't just friends any more. Perhaps we had never been 'just friends'. Sure, I wanted to fuck him, but already, I wanted our relationship to be more than just about sex. It was a man-boy thing, no doubt about it, not after what had happened earlier, in Florida, on the beach, and later in the motel room, but so far it was mostly innocent. And when things got out of hand, when it was anything but innocent, it wasn't about me seducing Ty, or Ty seducing me; it was mutual. It was easy to believe that those times were the secrets we shared, but that was too easy.

There had been lots of quick glimpses at each other since we'd met, but the looks we shared in the car were different. I was certain of that. Whenever Ty looked at me I could always tell something was going through his mind, but now the corners of his mouth twitched an instant before he smiled, and he blinked just before his eyes broke contact. Each time I wanted to say something, but the words weren't there, so I kept glancing at him. It was the same kind of momentary glance that I made in the rear vision mirror when I was checking out traffic or watching for cops. We were both spontaneously seeking acknowledgement, our eyes meeting then suddenly darting away, pausing just long enough to see each other's impulsive smiles. Not smirks, although God only knows we both had more than our fair share to smirk about with colorful tatoos and bald-crotches, but the sort of vague, uncertain smile that left one wondering what the other person was thinking. There was no getting past it, those smiles had a lot to do with sex, but sex wasn't funny. Sometimes amusing, yes; funny, no; at least not in my experience. The smiles I saw were not smiles brought on because of something that was amusing. They were smiles that hinted at our true feelings. Perhaps another secret had been shared at last.

I knew why I was smiling. I was far beyond the 'I-have-to-fuck-you-in-order-to-stay-alive' stage. I was in love. I felt it inside, overwhelming my heart, filling my mind, and yes, if I have to be honest, in the desperate longing between my legs. Being around Ty meant being perpetually aroused. I had become a walking, talking erection. I wasn't the only one to have an oversized bulge in my pants, but that didn't help to explain why Ty smiling. Well, it did and it didn't. It was nice knowing that I had that effect on him, but I wanted it to be caused by something more than lust. I wanted his constant sideways glances, those quirky all-too-quick smiles, to be because something had changed between us.

The problem was that even if I could have found the courage to ask Ty what he was feeling he probably could not have said. He was still a kid. Ten-year-old boys simply can't know what real love is about. He seemed nervous, as if afraid to speak. Indeed, most of the way from the motel to the restaurant, he sat quietly just sneaking his hurried peeks at me. Instead of trying to make conversation, I tried to think back on what had happened in the room. It kept me aroused, as hard as Detroit steel, but it didn't help much otherwise. Perhaps it was less what we had done together or something that had been said, than how it had been said. A tone of voice, the way we looked at each other, seeing the person within for the first time. Whatever it was, things were different between us. It was confusing as hell. So we went on exchanging sideways glances, sharing smiles, wondering what the other person was thinking.

However, it was amusing, in its own way, watching from the corner of my eye, sometimes waiting for Ty's head to move just a fraction on an inch before I turned to look at him, more often than not, turning myself even at the precise moment that his head began to move. Yet, it was ever so much more than a game we could play while listening to the only radio station in a hundred miles that dared to play country and western. More than a few times our glances lingered, delaying until it was dangerous to keep my eyes off the road for so long. And there were other times when smiles abruptly broadened into grins and we burst out laughing. If only he would tell me what was going through his mind, but I wasn't about to ask. Other than what was known only to the two of us, I could think of nothing that was so amusing that he would keep smiling at me all the way in the car. However, he did smile, non-stop, from the time we left the motel to the time we arrived at Cafe Jack.

After what had transpired in almost total silence during the ten-minute drive, when we first saw that neon sign it seemed entirely appropriate that Ty suddenly erupt in a fit of giggles. I soon realized he was letting off steam, not having a fit. It took a moment or two until the joke sank in. The name of restaurant, much less the gaudy neon sign which was vaguely phallic, seemed at least to have be chosen particularly for what it said. It was not Cafe Jack's which would not have been funny in the slightest, but in the singular non-possessive form, it could only mean what we both wanted it to mean. I laughed too, if only because I thought Heekin had been saying Cafe Jack's all along. Instead, it was Cafe Jack. Jack! Jerk-off! Pull-the-meat! Plain old masturbation. Something every male did on a regular basis if he had a grain of sense. Ty instantly grabbed his compact crotch, and using his two hands, made a few up and down motions on a make believe and very much over-sized penis while he continued to smirk.

"We're really gonna eat at Cafe Jack?" he asked with mock seriousness.

"Yeah, it sure looks that way."

"Man, Cafe Jack! Talk about stretchin' yer weenie," he giggled.

"Something like that," I responded as seriously as I could. There were times I needed to be a role model for him. This was probably one of those times.

"How about pullin' yer prick or whacking the wonka?"

"Wonka?"

He grinned. "There's a kid from Australia I met at tha speedway a while back. He called in wonkin', or somethin' like that."

"I think he was sayin' wank," I laughed.

"Man, I cain't believe we're eatin at Cafe Jack."

It was the third time in a minute he had said that name, yet he still sounded incredulous, emphasizing 'Jack' so loudly that its hidden meaning was known to anyone within a hundred feet of us. It was said so boldly that I had to answer with something lewd.

"Yeah. I hear they got a sausage dish that's out of this world."

"It probably comes with cream on it. Get it, Terry? It comes with cream?"

He laughed so hard that he snorted, then had to gasp between coughs until he cleared his windpipe and got his breath back.

I tried to ignore him, but I couldn't help smiling.

"Cafe Jack," Ty finally managed to get out without bursting into laughter. "Fuckin' hell, it's almost as bad as yer Team Sixty-Nine."

"Ain't nuthin' wrong with tha team name, 'ceptin yer dirty little mind."

"Sixty-nine…" He went back to laughing. "Sure, it ain't that bad, Terry. Sixty-nine. Man oh man! Ya oughta hear what some people call it."

"Huh?"

"Team Blow-job, 'cause yer always gettin' blowed off by tha other cars. Until tha last race that is."

"So who goes 'round callin' it that?" I demanded.

Ty shrugged, tapping his hands on the dashboard to the sound of Alabama while we continued to wait at the world's slowest traffic light.

"When I was waitin' fer ya at tha track, I heard a coupla 'em pit-babes sayin' it." He smirked, shamelessly grabbing his crotch again, rubbing himself with narcissistic pleasure. "Man, I couldn't believe what they was sayin'. They was talkin' 'bout fuckin' and shit like that non-stop, but mostly 'bout gettin' it off with ya."

"Yeah, right." I was cynical, but it was probably true.

"Ya could'a had either of 'em, Terry. 'specially after gettin' yer record lap time 'n all," Ty boasted. "Both of 'em was blond, tha way ya like, but I reckon it was dyed like my mamaw's."

"Yeah, now just how do ya know that?"

"Easy, 'cause ya could see the roots was darker 'n tha rest. Geez! They was 'n dumber 'n shit too. Just yer type," he guffawed, rolling around in his seat.

"Yeah, 'ssumin' I like babes," I remarked evenly. "I'm partial ta blonds, but tha problem is even some dumb-ass dyed blond might not do it fer me now."

Ty glanced out the window. He kept his face turned away like he was bashful.

"But ya like me the way I am, don't ya? It ain't just tha hair right? Anyway, it ain't like I dye my hair or somethin'." He hesitated. "Ya know, I thought about doin' it fer a while, 'cause Paul done his, but there weren't no point in makin' it darker."

As he said it, quietly, his voice uncertain, I felt my heart rate triple. Then without warning Ty turned and looked directly at me. He raised his eyebrows. He wanted me to answer the question with a 'yes'. It was only for a second, perhaps two, then his eyes lowered demurely. The bold boy was temporarily gone.

"Ain't that tha truth."

He laughed awkwardly.

"What's so funny?" I asked as we waited.

The traffic light had changed to green. Now we had to wait for the four cars in front of us to decide to move forward. It was obvious there weren't going to be any jack-rabbit starts. Like me, the drivers were all hoping that a car would pull out in front of them and provide the ideal parking spot. It was fast turning out to be restaurant row.

Ty shrugged his answer. I let the matter drop and concentrated on finding somewhere to park.

Cafe Jack was not at all like what I expected, especially given that Heekin had said it was casual. I had dressed accordingly. Big mistake! It was on a par with going to the nascar Annual Manufacturers Awards Dinner without wearing a tuxedo. Heekin's 'casual' definitely was not my 'casual'. However, if the restaurant was a surprise to me, it must have been a shock to Ty, for whom eating at Wendy's was a big step up from the local McDonalds, or his all-too-frequent meals at the Waffle House where his grandmother worked. First off, there was an abundance of expensive cars parked in the street and lined up outside the restaurant. I bypassed the valet service, and not only because I did not have the money to tip and the line was so long. I had worked my way through the first year of college slaving as a valet at Chez Paulette's in Atlanta so I knew first hand what happened to the cars once their owners were out of sight. I remember putting ten miles on a Ferrari odometer one night while its owner was in the restaurant. He was probably thinking that his expensive red sports car was sitting safely in a parking lot. I got it up to 120 m.p.h. [200 km/h] in a 55 [90] zone. It was probably the fastest it had ever gone.

I found a parking spot in the far corner of the parking lot across the street. Priority was obviously given to valet parking since large largely empty areas were cordoned off. There was a street light nearby that offered some additional security. It was worth taking advantage of even though our rental car was an early model Ford Taurus from Rent-a-Dent, as Ty called it. It was definitely in need of cosmetic body work and a new coat of paint would not have been wasted. That, even more than how I was dressed, left me feeling out of place among the abundant highly polished Jags, Beemers and Porsches. A Lexus would have looked tawdry among that expensive line up of luxury vehicles.

By the time we reached the front door, it was apparent to me, if not to Ty, that the restaurant was one of those socially popular places where a reservation was essential, even during the week. Through the front windows I saw that the atmosphere inside was intimate, as was to be expected in a converted house. It looked inviting, a big step up from the hole-in-the-wall diner where we had eaten dinner the previous night. The service was casually attentive, being almost amusing when the door was suddenly thrown open to welcome us even as we climbed the steps. Pierce and Brandon arrived only a minute after us, leaving behind a gun-metal grey Porsche Carrera 4 Cabriolet with a young Hispanic valet who I would not have trusted to park my rental car. He looked like he'd suck your dick for a dollar.

It was immediately obvious that Pierce Heekin was a frequent customer at Cafe Jack because he was promptly greeted by a man who he called Hector. Hector seemed to be in charge of everyone else. They talked about nothing in particular and I exchanged a wane smile with Ty. With luck, we could eat a quick dinner and make a hasty escape back to our motel room to finish some unfinished business. I could tell that he was slightly uncomfortable, probably because he was the youngest person in the place, but he looked sexy, almost too sexy if that was possible, standing there next to me. Increasingly, it seemed, I was aware of an aura about him. He radiated desirability with a hint of a smile, a flick of his eyebrows, even a sideways glance. Ty Kincaid was all about sex as far as I was concerned. I had reason to smile back at him. It was amusing to remember what was underneath his clothes, in particular those temporary tattoos that decorated certain parts of his body. That I had placed them there was a secret to be relished. I was looking forward to getting him back to the privacy of our room and beginning the delightful process of rediscovery when I undressed him.

Boys of Ty's age can often get away with things that if they were just a few years older would be considered problematic. However, in that fancy restaurant any boy dressed in Ty's clothes would have been considered under-dressed for the occasion. Compared to Brandon who was attired in a white very-new-looking polo shirt and knife-edge pressed khaki trousers, Ty was dressed with casual flamboyance. He wore his rumpled Hawaiian print shirt that gave a whole new meaning to colorful, and baggy board shorts that came down to just below his knobby knees. No socks, but at least he had sneakers on. From the way Hector glanced at both of us I could see that he was visibly distressed that he would have one customer whose attire was well south of inappropriate and another customer who was only slightly better off. Distressed that is until Ty gave him his 'shy boy' smile. It was a smile that was very familiar to me, one that could melt the most resolute of hearts. I was beginning to learn that a handsome boy who smiled in just the right way could get away with murder.

"Terry?"

I dragged my eyes away from Ty and the lascivious thoughts that pervaded my mind and turned to Heekin.

"I was just saying to Hector that we'd like to be seated close to the windows. There's a very nice view of the beach from the Pacific Room. It's in the back. However, apparently they're very busy tonight. They do have a table coming available in a few minutes, but if we wanted somewhere quieter we could always sit outside. It's a bit on the warm side for most people, but he assures me there's a nice breeze off the ocean."

"Fine by me," I answered. "I don't mind at all. The heat's never bothered me."

A few minutes later we were seated on the side verandah and being introduced to the menu by a young swarthy waiter. He was another one of the 'suck-your-dick-for-a-dollar' variety, but he was very knowledgeable, assuming one enjoyed being highly informed about the food on the menu. My personal goal in dining is to eat heartily, not to know the chef's philosophy on blending sauces from obscure herbs. I made a half-hearted effort to listen and then pretended to study the menu. It was California-style with the usual seafood and pasta dishes, but there was a page of specials that were anything but ordinary. Since Heekin was paying the bill, I selected the roast wild boar shank at a nickel under eighteen dollars. Cheap, but I figured that was because it was on the special's page. Other things were more expensive, some a lot more expensive, but it sounded like fun. It came out quickly after the soup and tasted somewhat like pork, which was only to be expected I suppose because boar and pork are still pig, but it was delicious. I even managed to convince Ty to try some in exchange for two spoonfuls of his pasta. His kid's menu dinner was much better than I expected, certainly better than the greasy hamburgers of the night before. It amused me to think that he could eat as much as he wanted for one quarter of the cost of my dinner.

About half way through the main course and an ongoing discussion about how to modify a kart's braking system and stay within the rules, Pierce put his knife and fork down. He waited until he had my undivided attention. I wondered what he had to say that was so important. With Ty and Brandon engaged in an inspired debate about which were the best brakes in the world, it was difficult to pay attention. I had to smile to myself whenever Ty argued that 'hands down, Brembo is the best'. I was certain that he believed that I was responsible for the company's entire braking system, not just a few pressure-compensating valves as had been the subject of my misappropriated patent.

"I called Charley Keane earlier, and believe it or not, I have to tell you it's good news all around," Pierce suddenly announced. Whenever he spoke it was usually with a pontiff's authority. This time was no different. Pierce gave a new meaning to 'pontificate'.

"Who's he?" I asked, my mouth still working on some sauteed vegetables, my ears still tuned to the more interesting, ongoing conversation next to me. Ty was making some good points. Brandon too. Both boys certainly knew their cars. I could talk with Ty for hours and still be surprised at how much he knew.

"Charley's the president of American Foods," Pierce explained in a haughty voice that suggested that anyone and everyone should know who Charles Keane was.

"Okay?"

Ty nudged me under the grey-teak table, although I had no idea why he did so. He was still chattering about how Brembo brakes were installed on most of the world's fastest cars.

"I told him about my idea for Cereals."

"What idea?" I asked without a lot of interest.

I hoped he was not going to say that he had found the ideal boy for the All-American role. It would be enough to spoil dinner. I was getting tired of hearing it. Not that I wanted to stand in Ty's way, because I didn't, or that I thought he was not the ideal All-American boy, because he was. Simply, I did not want to raise his hopes. His future after the summer was something I preferred not to dwell on. The idea of him living with his grandmother in that dismal trailer was bleak enough as it was.

"My idea, well… to be honest it was Ty's idea actually… about us sponsoring '69'. Of course, I could hardly tell Charley it was a ten-year-old boy's idea," he explained. "Anyway, I called him because it's a radical change for AFC and I wanted to get Charley's input before it went too far. He likes to be kept in the loop. The thing is, Terry, he went for it. He loved all of it."

He sat back and interlocked his fingers, shaking both hands several times. It was as if he was making a deal with himself, or worse, congratulating himself.

"Terry, you can believe me when I say, that was a shock!" Heekin grinned broadly, released his hands and slapped the table abruptly to drive the point home. The entire process looked ridiculous.

"Anyway, Charley's keen, so keen he wants me to sign you up right away. The fact is, the whole thing took me rather by surprise, you understand Terry. Here I was thinking it would be a hard sell, and Charley jumps at the idea almost before the words are out of my mouth. See, what I didn't realize is he's a nascar fan. Can you believe that? Charley Keane watching nascar every Sunday afternoon?" He laughed that belly-laugh of his. The glasses on the table actually rattled.

"I'm sorry, but I don't get it Pierce," I answered when the vibration ended.

"See, he knew all about you, Terry. He'd even watched the race last weekend. By the way, I need to get a tape of that to show the Board when we go for the presentation next week. You wouldn't have one, would you?"

I shook my head. It was difficult to concentrate. I could hear Brandon bragging to Ty about how great the brakes were on Pierce's Porsche, Ty replying that they were 'probably Brembo', that Brembo brakes were 'definitely, absolutely, positively the best brakes in the whole world'.

"The thing is, and this is important, Charley's very excited, Terry. He even made something of a joke about how it will change the way the company does business in the future. Charley almost never makes jokes. He's probably the most serious person I know. He's very clear about what he wants and he always gets what he wants," Pierce continued as if he had not heard me.

"Huh?"

I wanted to tell Ty and Brandon to be quiet so I could hear what Pierce was saying. So far, the conversation about venting brake rotors by cross-drilling or using slots was far more interesting. The best approach was a combination of the two. I wondered if Ty knew about Brembo's Gran Turismo system. It was based on two-piece aluminium hats that were brought together to create a so-called 'floating disk'? It could stop a car in a heart beat.

"He wants you on the team immediately, Terry… and Ty too by the way. Incidentally, I told him about Ty as being the possible all-American boy. He loved my idea of bringing the two programs together. Comprehensive marketing is the way to go nowadays. The nascar dad and the kart kid, he called it. The point it, you're both on the team!"

"Huh? What team?"

"American Foods, of course…"

"Pierce, I'm sorry, but…"

Pierce suddenly stopped speaking and put his arm around Brandon. "Listen guys, I know you're having fun talking cars, but could you give us a few minutes of peace and quiet. I can't hear a word of what Terry's saying."

Ty and Brandon exchanged a glance, effectively chastened for the moment. Brandon leaned closer to Ty and whispered something that only the other boy could hear. Ty nodded. His hand crept onto mine and stayed there.

Heekin smiled. "Thanks guys. Now, where was I? Okay. Now, I know I'm jumping to conclusions, but… Okay. Here's the deal we're offering, Terry. I warned Charley that you're probably doing better already, but he said to go ahead and see if you were interested. How does three years for five million a year sound? Guaranteed, by the way. The contracts keeps going even if the marketing program is wound done before then. You can pretty much call the shots as to how you spend the money. However, there is one thing Charley insisted on. We want sole rights, that's to both of you by the way. No other sponsorship. None, not even a decal for the oil you use. That means you'll have to get rid of any sponsors you already have. I realize it's unusual but that's the way AFC works. It's all or nothing for us. We don't want other companies taking advantage of the money we spend."

"Um…"

It was too good to be true so I didn't believe him. It did not make a grain of sense. I sounded like a joke that was being made at my expense.Sponsors didn't just fall out of the sky. They took months, sometimes years of wooing before they signed one-year contracts. Still, I wondered whether I should tell him that other sponsors were not going to be a problem. The truth was that I got free oil and a few engine parts from the decals already on the car. Net value, maybe a few thousand dollars. It was impossible for this to be happening, not without going to a dozen meetings with corporate executives. Yet, the way Heekin sounded, so authoritatively matter-of-fact, made me wonder whether it was really happening. He was offering me sponsorship, the kind of relationship that came along once in a driver's life. Instead of agreeing on the spot, I stalled for time.

"I'll have to think about it," I said awkwardly.

"Terry…" Ty murmured.

I glanced at Ty. He nodded, urgently signaling with his eyes. His hand was clasping mine, squeezing.

"Three years at five million?" I repeated. I had to say something.

I tried to keep calm. It was as good a contract as any team could expect, better than most of the front runners given that three years were involved. The top teams were making more money but they usually had one year contracts with performance expectations. It was do or die, and some of them did. nascar officials did not like to admit the intense pressure that was being placed on drivers.

"Like I said, Terry my man, there are no strings," Pierce went on selling. "We'll pay each year up front as a lump sum to use however you wish. All that's required is you work with us for marketing purposes, and of course we'll try to work around your schedule, particularly during the racing season or when Ty's in school. How do you handle that, by the way? Does he stay with his mom when you're travelling?"

He did not wait for me to answer. He had a quick drink of wine, a good Californian red from Sonoma. It was the second bottle and already it was near to the bottom. I would rather have had beer but he ordered it for both of us, or at least with the expectation that I join him. He wiped his lips and went back to his speech.

"This is a great opportunity for us and you, Terry. We're going to change the way that AFC does business. This is going to be one hell of a campaign once things get into full swing. I want to have both of you to meet up with Charley as soon as possible. He wants me to get your contracts sighed by the end of the week. It's going to be rush, rush, rush for a while at least." He stopped to breath. "With luck we can probably arrange a photo-shoot for Ty while you're here in California."

"Huh?" Ty queried when he heard his name mentioned again.

Pierce swilled the wine around the bottom of his glass as if contemplating the fate of the human race. He placed it back on the table.

"Okay. The thing is we're going to launch 'Crunchy Go' first, Ty. It'll feature you, of course, because it's set up for the All-American program."

The look on Ty's face was priceless. Sheer absolute confusion.

"I don't see how I come into it?" he asked quietly.

"Well, for one thing we'll put your face on the front of the Crunchy Go box with a slogan. Um, how about… 'America's kart-kid, calorific, terrific, extra-ific!'. How about that Ty? And on the surfing ones we could use… hm… Okay, I know. We'll use 'Pacific surf-kid' instead of 'America's kart-kid'. This is going to be one hell of a campaign."

"Ah, yeah, that'd be cool," Ty replied uncertainly. "What's calorific mean?"

"Of course, we're going to want some photos of Ty by himself right away so that we can start putting the packaging together while you're back in Asheville," he explained to me.

"What's Crunchy Go?" Ty asked.

"It's our new cereal. You'll love it. It's being targeted to active kids, although we expect boys aged between six and twelve to be 85 percent of the market. It's not only fiber-rich but it provides one hundred percent of their USDA vitamin needs and 50 percent of the protein, and that's without including milk. Our research shows that active kids eat cereal throughout the day, not just at breakfast. It's a basic snack food for active kids. That's especially true for boys. Hence, the All-American boy approach."

Ty's expression changed slightly, less confused, more strained. He was having difficulty with the concept.

"Will it be sugary? I hate cereal that tastes too sweet."

"Well, there is some sugar in it," Pierce admitted. "The research with our focus groups shows that 85 percent of the target market will like it a lot."

"Do I have to eat it?"

Pierce laughed so loudly that I was glad we were seated on the verandah. Other than another table at the far end, we were alone.

"No, you won't have to eat it, except when we shoot the commercials that is. This is very special cereal, Ty. It's been developed especially for boys in your age cohort. We've spent millions of dollars on its development. It's even got a unique color, we call it 'zap'. It's almost the same color as an orange because it's associated with energy and good health."

"Does it have like a special shape or something?" Ty asked seriously.

"Shape?"

"Yeah, you know like little 'x's and 'o's?" Ty grinned.

"Well, it's going to be a snack food as much as a breakfast cereal, so we had to use a shape that was easy to hold in the fingers. It's mostly round, just slightly squashed so it's easier to pick up."

"It better not be too squashed otherwise kids are going to think it looks like dog food," Ty said seriously. "You oughta use something like little sixes and nines… you know, for sixtynine."

Brandon nodded eagerly even though he was grinning from ear to ear. "He's right. I told you the stuff looks like rabbit poop."

Ty burst out laughing. When he finally managed to stop he said, "I don't want my face on boxes of rabbit poop."

That set both boys to laughing again. Me too.

"It's nothing like rabbit poop," Pierce said seriously. "When have you ever seen orange rabbit poop? Anyway, you said you liked how it tasted, Brando," he countered.

"I did It does taste great. I was just agreeing with Ty. Kids that age want a fun shape."

"Yeah, see you gotta get us interested," Ty said, adding his two-cents' worth. "Maybe even put something in the box besides cereal." He stopped, smirking at me. "How about like some of them… I mean those transfer tatoos. Kids my age love them."

It was all I could do not to laugh out loud at the idea of boys across the country plastering their bodies with temporary tatoos. Boys being boys, would soon put them in places where they would seldom be seen.

"So you want us just for this Crunchy Go stuff?" I finally asked, trying to divert Ty from doing more damage to Pierce's marketing program.

"No, Terry, not at all. But it started out like that. See, Charley liked the idea so much we're going to expand the new approach to most of our cereal line. That's where you fit in Terry."

"How? Am I doing the geriatric market?"

Pierce laughed again. It was almost embarrassing sitting at the same table. Brandon sank an inch lower in his seat. Ty's thigh pressed against mine. His fingers had worked their way into the gaps between my fingers, squirming back and forth, rubbing against my knuckles. It was hot, slightly sweaty, a bit like two hands having sex.

"No, but it's a great idea. I ought to write it down before I forget. Hm… You know… maybe… it isn't a bad idea at all. In fact, it's a damn good idea. I think I've got it!" he almost shouted.

"Yes?" I prompted uncertainly.

"We can use you just like we're using Ty for the Crunchy-Go line. We have this new product being developed for the active-adult market only we don't have a name for it yet. It's targeted to the same market as that Product 19 stuff. Don't get me wrong, 19's a good concept, but just don't put it near a magnet. It's got more iron in it than a…"

"A Detroit V-8," I suggested.

Pierce laughed until the windows rattled. "That's what makes you ideal! See, I'm thinking we call our new cereal '69'."

Both Ty and Brandon looked up at hearing the magic number. Ty giggled first. Then, Brandon. Then, they both started to laugh. Pierce looked from one boy to the other, then at me. The joke sank in slowly.

"Maybe 69 isn't the right name," he said as seriously as he could manage under the circumstances. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, my point is that we're using you and Ty as today's image of healthy living, two people constantly on the go, leading exciting lives. Let's face it, you can't get anything more exciting than driving at nascar."

"Probably not," I agreed.

"We're going to keep the two of you very busy. Once this gets underway, you might need to think about getting a private tutor for him, Terry."

I nodded, wondering why Ty would need a tutor during the summer when he was out of school. There was only one reason I could come up with and that did not make a lot of sense. Before I had a chance to think it all the way through, my thoughts were interrupted.

"Um, there is one small thing, Terry," Heekin said with deliberate vagueness.

"What's that?"

"It isn't a big deal."

"Okay?" I prompted.

"He, um… well…"

"Get to the point, Pierce."

Pierce smiled, but I could tell that he did not like to be rushed. "Okay… It's the hair. Ty's hair to be precise. It might have to be, er…um, re-styled for the photo shoot."

"Meaning what, exactly?" I asked on Ty's behalf.

"The tail thing. It might have to go," Pierce explained blandly. "The image we're after… well it's All-American you see."

"And a rat tail is not All-American?" I asked sarcastically.

"Duh! It's called a rat's tail, Terry," Ty interjected. "It's not some kind of metal file."

"It isn't that, Terry," Pierce countered defensively. "It's all about fashion, Terry. Boys nowadays… well, style is important to them. They have to be able to relate to the model."

"It's who I am," Ty interjected. "You can take… or leave it."

"Sounds good to me," I added supportively.

"Listen guys," Pierce began. He smiled. "Somehow, I knew it would be a problem. What's it going to take?"

"Nothing yer've got," Ty answered abruptly. He took a quick breath, gulping air. "I ain't fuckin' cuttin' it off. Fuck! I started growin' it 'cause…" He glanced at me. His tone softened, his words mollified. "Okay, don't say it Terry. I'm sorry. Just so you know, I'm not going to cut it off any time soon, Mr. Heekin," he said with forced patience.

"It's not that big a deal, Ty," Brandon said supportively. "I think you'll look really cool with your hair styled."

"Lighten up, Ace," I said calmly.

"Terry, if ya… if you tell me I have to, I will, okay? But please, don't ask me to."

"I'm not telling you to do anything, Ace," I interrupted. I glared at the man across the table. "It's important to him, Pierce. You said you wanted a rough and tumble All-American boy, not some dopey kid who has nothing going for him except looking pretty. Ty's what my mother used to call a diamond in the rough. He's a bit ragged on the edges, but he's 100 percent proof b-o-y."

Pierce nodded thoughtfully. "You're making this very difficult," he said. "I agree it does say something about him that's important. I can probably work with it. Hm… '100 percent proof boy'. That is what you said, isn't it? We can't use 'proof', of course. Hm… but 100 percent pure boy? That works for me. If it gets to be a problem with the focus groups we can always take the extra hair out using a computer I suppose."

"What are you talking about?"

"A slogan, of course. We spend most of the day thinking up slogans. There was so few good ones in the cereal business. Well? Do we have a deal, Terry?" Pierce asked abruptly.

"Terry…" Ty prompted. He nodded again, urging me to agree now that it seemed his rat's tail could stay.

"It's not bad, Pierce," I said, stalling, trying to think it through. I had not expected an offer like that even when I was meeting with other companies. The best I had ever hoped for was a million dollars a year, and the chance of that happening was miniscule at best given my prior experiences.

"Terry…" Ty's voice sounded stressed.

"Not bad at all," I repeated quietly. A long time ago I had learned never to take the first deal that was offered. I held my breath and waited.

"I told Charley it wouldn't be enough to get you on the team," Pierce complained. He sighed. "Damn! Okay, the bottom line is this. I'll have to find the money from some other budget I suppose." He took a deep breath. There were beads of sweat on his forehead. "This is the best we can do. Six million for the first year, eight the next, and ten in the third year. How does that sound, Terry?" He sounded nervous, like his job was on the line.

"It sounds a lot better than five million every year," I quipped.

Ty groaned beside me. "Jesus, Terry, say 'yes' you fuckin' idiot."

"Yes, you fuckin' idiot."

Luckily, Pierce laughed. So did Brandon. Ty rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. So much for our exchange of promises to be careful of how we spoke. Ty was entirely correct in that what we said was important to how we were perceived, but suddenly I was beyond caring. I had what I wanted and it was sitting in the seat next to me. Getting a sponsor was merely icing on the cake.

"Sorry," I began apologetically. "It was just too good to miss. See, the reason why he's tagging along is that he's my good luck charm, Pierce," I said, smiling fondly at Ty. I was head-over-heels in love with him and he had no idea. "So I have to do whatever he says."

"But you said 'yes', right? So we have a deal, Terry? I can tell our lawyers to start drafting the contracts?" His nervousness had changed to excitement.

"Yes, we have a deal, Pierce," I confirmed, suddenly emboldened. My heart was pounding like it did during the final lap of a race. It had all but burst during my last race. "Assuming the contract your lawyers put together uses the standard terms for nascar sponsorship," I added hastily.

"Of course. And you'll sign for Ty?"

"Huh? Sign what?"

"I'm talking about Ty's contract?"

"What about Ty's contract? Why does he need a contract?"

"We'll need a separate contract for Ty, Terry. It's standard practice in the industry. He's a minor so you'll have to sign that too, of course. However, with the terms we've agreed on it'll have to be included in the same price."

"Um, well… see, I don't know about that," I muttered. I was not the worrying kind by nature, but suddenly I was worried. "Can't he sign for himself?" I blurted out.

"Kids can't sign, not and have a binding contract," Pierce said abruptly. "In this state it takes a parent or legal guardian to do that, at least until he's eighteen. We have a fairly standard contract we use that covers all the legal issues."

"Um…" I felt Ty squirming beside me. His hand had departed, leaving my fingers feeling lonely.

"I don't see why it would be a problem," Pierce said. "You're his father, Terry. It probably won't be a problem, but even if his mother was to get involved, she would have a difficult time showing the court that it would not be in his best interest, especially if you opened a trust fund for him. I don't what his share would be, but a couple of hundred thousand a year would be a good start I imagine."

"Huh?"

"I assume you're divorced. You are, aren't you?"

"I've never been married," I replied hastily.

"But he's got your last name," Pierce pointed out.

"Um, well… er… It's not quite like that."

"Is there a problem?" Pierce asked suddenly.

His eyes were suspicious, like Bobbie's were when I told him about how I had first met Ty a few miles outside Daytona. He didn't believe me. I still found it hard to believe myself, flirting with a kid who thought I was weird, or worse. Boys had always gotten my attention, but that ragged bratty kid at the gas station was the first boy I'd seen who I wanted to jump on top of and fuck until I was too exhausted to move. He still has that effect, although I was well past the 'lust-stage'. I smiled, suddenly realizing what that meant. Damn, but I loved Tyler Kincaid.

Heekin glanced around, even looking behind him. No one was within hearing distance, not unless we raised our voices. The waiter was back inside the restaurant and the people at the other table were busily engaged in eating dessert.

"I was wondering why he called you Terry. You do hear kids calling their parents by their first names, but it isn't very often."

"Um, see… My last name isn't Atkins," Ty admitted softly. He looked guilty with his eyes downcast. No one said anything for a few moments. "It's Kincaid, Mr. Heekin."

"So, you took your mom's name. It doesn't matter. Your dad can still sign a contract for you, Ty."

"It does matter, Pierce. It matters a whole lot," I breathed out. "See, it's like this… Ty… well, the thing is, he's not my son."

"He's not? You're his uncle?"

"No, we're not related," I said simply and hoped it would end there.

"Then, I don't understand, Terry. I was right next to you when you told Shaw that he's your son."

"Only to get him on the track," I interjected hastily, "and actually I didn't even say that. Shaw did. I just didn't correct him."

"Then, I really don't understand what in the hell is going on? Why is he travelling with you?"

"See, Mr. Heekin, it's like this… Um… Terry kind of adopted me for the summer," Ty explained nervously.

"He what? What does kind of adopted mean?"

"He… um. It's like this see. Terry and me met outside Daytona, see, and so then I went to the speedway… well… see we liked each other… and so I watched him race. That's when he did great… and well… see we became friends afterwards… More than friends I guess… sort of like well, it's hard to explain… and well, my mamaw said it was okay if I spent the summer with him… 'cause she don't want me around…" he added awkwardly.

Ty glanced at me for support. I shrugged. The deal was about to collapse. There was nothing for it. Pierce wanted both of us for the sponsorship to work.

"Pierce?" I said hesitantly.

It was a huge risk, but one that I had to take. I had watched them together. Sure they were uncle and nephew, but perhaps their relationship was more than that. I could only hope. I licked my parched lips.

"Yes?" He turned to me, glowering.

"Ty and me… um… It's like this, Pierce. I like havin' him around, okay? Anyway we told his granny that he brought the team good luck, which he does, but…" I took a deep breath.

"And?" Heekin prompted. He was relentless, like my mother had been when she thought I had stolen money from her purse. I hadn't, but I was still guilty.

"Okay, so it's more than him bringing us good luck, but it's partly that."

"What does that mean."

"Fact is… well… This is hard to explain."

"So try."

"Okay. The thing is we got… we got feelings fer each other, Pierce," I explained.

"Feelings?" Pierce repeated, nodding slowly. "Would you care to elaborate on what those feelings might be?"

Brandon looked at Ty for a few seconds and seemed to smile slightly. Perhaps it was just my imagination. Pierce was not smiling. His expression was downright sour.

"Well, they're special feelings, I guess ya could say."

"That's helpful."

I winced. His tone was sarcastic. Brandon settled back in his seat, both hands on the table. He had long thin very-clean fingers like a musician. Ty's hands were ingrained with grease and oil, and had the scars to prove they had seen hard work.

"Okay, the thing is… I'm ah… I guess you could say we're more than friends. I'm getting to be pretty darn fond of him."

It was more than I had intended to say, but there was no choice. Pierce stared at me, waiting for me to elaborate. I could feel Ty becoming tense. I was tense. Other than the sound of the ocean breaking on the distant beach, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. The people at the other table had gone.

Heekin closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "God damn! I don't believe I'm hearing this," he hissed. "What you're telling me is that you're a pedophile, Atkins."

"No!"

"I know your type, forcing poor kids to have sex with you or taking advantage of them because they don't know better. I should have guessed when you went off behind the sand hills today. You're one sick bastard. I convinced myself you went for a walk, but you were screwing around with him, aren't you?"

"It ain't like that," I retorted. I almost said that Ty was as eager as I was when we had sex.

"You're going to try to tell me it's purely platonic, I suppose?" Sarcasm was increasingly evident in his tone. His eyes had narrowed. He glared at me.

"Platonic?" I asked innocently.

Heekin snorted. "You're a pervert, Atkins. I suppose you're going to tell me you haven't had sex with him?"

"No."

"No? Meaning what exactly? That you haven't had sex with him or you aren't going to tell me?"

"Jesus! It's none of your damned business." I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. I could not believe this was happening.

"You're so wrong, Atkins! Child abuse is everyone's business."

"Child abuse?" I asked nervously.

"That's what it's called! There are signs, you know. Once a doctor takes a look at him they'll find out whether you've been abusing the poor kid. Those doctors know what to look for."

"I… God!"

I glanced at Ty. His head hung down, realizing that part of what was happening was as much his fault as mine. We had both been wrong about Pierce Heekin and his nephew. Watching them on the beach had convinced me that their relationship was something more than it was supposed to be. We had seen them being affectionate, but that was all. We had assumed more than that, but there was no basis for our assumption.

"I'm going to report you to the police, Atkins. You're a depraved monster! I don't know what the laws are like where you're from, but here in California child abuse is about as bad as it gets. You'll be lucky if all you get is a life sentence."

"Jesus!" I groaned.

I tried to shake my head. I did not realize that all along Heekin's voice was barely more than a whisper. Ty was deathly pale. Brandon was sitting back, his hands still on the table in front of him.

"You know what we've got sitting here, sitting at this table, Brandon?" Heekin continued unabated. His voice was filled with disgust.

"No, what?"

Heekin looked from me to Ty, then he turned and looked quickly over his shoulder before he answered. His eyes were dark, threatening. I could see the hatred, the loathing that he had for me.

"A sick, sick man. He takes advantage of innocent little boys by pretending to be their friend and then he hurts them."

I shook my head in denial. It was undeniable and true. I had taken advantage of Ty Kincaid. I had almost managed to convince myself that it was mutual.

"How?" Brandon asked curiously.

"Why don't you tell Brandon the disgusting things that you do to Ty, Terry?" Heekin asked cruelly.

I shrugged and swallowed. I wondered whether I should get and leave.

"How about you, Ty?" Heekin asked slyly. "You want to tell Brandon about you and Terry."

"There ain't nuthin' ta tell, ass-hole," Ty said angrily, spitting the words out.

"Terry likes to have sex with you, doesn't he?" Heekin jeered. Suddenly, he shook his head and stopped.

NEXT PART