Sunday night in bed, beating off to thoughts of Georgie's mouth on my cock, I grew increasingly frustrated with the knowledge that Georgie was doing it strictly for the money, that he was not really a friend, but a business partner. Hard as I wanked my wong, orgasm was not to be reached. For money, Georgie would do almost anything though he hadn't allowed himself to be fucked, at least not when I was around. At that time, I believed that Georgie's reluctance to allow anyone access to his ass was the result of a probable rape he refused to discuss with me when I told him of an attempted against me. I wondered how much Georgie would have to be offered for him to allow me to stick my little boy cock up his rear. He certainly shouldn't be worried about a dinky three incher like mine. Would twenty dollars be enough? I'd pay twenty to be able to do it. I had the money. I had over two hundred dollars stashed in the basement and the apartment.
What about other kids? I dropped my cock and sat up. Other kids! Kenny certainly wasn't the only other boy I could make it with. I hadn't really worked at getting Sonny Pacifico. And there were several boys in my school who I'd fantasized about, wondered what they looked like naked, if they beat their meat and, if so, how they did it. Did they do it with others? Would they do it with me? If I was nice to them, never got angry and bought them things, would they be my friends? Would they keep their mouths shut about the sex we'd have? If I were really generous, would they suck me too?
Shit! I abruptly sat up. I realized I wasn't thinking about friends but sex partners and they were boys, not girls. Why the fuck did I want boys for sex, why not girls? Why wasn't I just hot for Nancy? I wasn't a fag. I didn't talk funny like a girl, walk like a girl, do anything like a girl, well, except suck cock and enjoy having boy cock's stuck in me. And I sure as hell wasn't afraid of anybody. Shit! What the fuck was I? What was Kenny? He wasn't anything like a girl either but he wanted me for sex, or the other boys he fucked, and only fucked his sister in the ass, where boys took it. Were we something else? Not homosexuals but liked other boys? Were we like the men who picked me up on the Square? A lot of them were weird but none of them acted like girls.
I lay back on the bed. I did enjoy sex with Nancy. And there was that girls back in second grade I'd almost done it with. Maybe I liked both boys and girls. Then why was I just thinking of boys in my search for friends, well, sex partners. That was what I wanted, a boy to have sex with me. Not one who did it just for money like Georgie and Sonny Pacifico but did it because he liked it, liked doing it with me, another boy.
I went over the different boys who had caught my imagination. There was Lester in my class. As with most of the boys I preferred, he had blonde hair. Why did I like blonde haired boys more? Lester also had beautiful blue eyes with long lashes. His body was a mystery but he was a good athlete so it had to be fairly well formed. And, he played a lot of pocket pool. Most of the time at his desk, he had one hand or the other in his pocket and movement in his pants over his crotch. He'd even intimated twice an interest in me sucking him off. But, he was a smart ass and was friends with the O'Reilly brothers.
What about Georgie's eleven year old friend Steven Flaherty? He wasn't as pretty as Georgie but was always groping himself and had never said anything mean to me. He was the only one at the strip poker game other than Georgie who hadn't made nasty remarks. He'd actually looked sorry about what they were doing to me. His hair was lighter than Georgie's, almost whitish but not as long. His skin was white as milk during the winter but turned a nice reddish tan during the hot months. I'd only seen him in shorts once. His legs were slim and would feel nice in my hands. In the basement when we beat off together, he'd never pulled his pants much lower than mid thigh. He had a so so upper body from what I saw at the poker game but his tummy was nice and flat. Georgie would really be pissed if he knew Steven and I were having sex and he liked it. That was a definite possibility.
There was still Sonny Pacifico. Maybe I ought to try him again. It wasn't just the money. He did enjoy my dick up his ass. His hard cock couldn't lie. Nancy might be able to get him to talk to me. But he was just eight years old and probably couldn't go anywhere, would want to play with cars and trucks.
Yes, Nancy. But all she wanted was sex, me on top, same way every time. She would never allow us to be seen together on the street. She mostly ignored me in school only giving me a glance if she wanted me to come over for sex. I wanted a friend who could do things with me like go to the movies, maybe the park. I wanted someone with a dick!
Who else? Cholito in the other fourth grade? Cholito was a good looking ten year old, about half a year younger than me. Unlike me, he had no black blood, just Latino. I didn't know for sure, but someone had said he was Columbian. He had straight black hair that was cut poorly whenever it dropped past his eyelids. His skin was the color of the dirt on a baseball diamond, even had that dusty look about it. He had soft cheeks that dimpled with almost any change of expression, large dark brown eyes and a flat across the bottom chin under an equally broad mouth. His lips were nearly the color of his skin so looked smaller than they actually were. He lived a block up from me on Forty-Ninth. His father had been, as Georgie's, killed in some kind of gang vendetta. The previous August, I'd enjoyed watching his taut, well proportioned body as he darted in and out of the spray from a fire hydrant. The water dripping off him made his skin shine like varnish. He never got in fights with anybody. I couldn't think of any of his relatives or friends with whom I'd had a fight. He didn't hang around with any of my special enemies. For not being a blonde, he was way up on my turn on list. Maybe I ought to try him first. Monday, I'd find a way to talk to him, maybe take him out to Ninth Avenue and buy him some candy and a soda or something. He was poor, I could buy him a pair of shoes and say somebody gave them to me but they were too small. But I didn't know his size. A coat, he was close to my size. I could give him the one my biological father gave me and buy myself a new one. Nah, that would piss off Ray. I'd have to think of something else.
That Monday was Valentine's Day, the perfect time to start a love affair.
Arranging a casual meeting with Cholito was more difficult than I'd imagined. I saw him before school but he was with a gang of others from his street. At recess, he was playing tag with kids from his class. Lunchtime he sat with the Forty Seventh Street bunch again. After school, he left with two girls who surely would have said something to everybody if I'd tried to talk to him. I couldn't go onto his block because I had too many enemies up there. It was winter. The cold drove everyone inside. If I followed him inside his apartment house and ran into a few kids there who didn't like me, they could beat the crap out of me before I had any chance of getting away.
I went to the basement; put the cardboard up close to the boiler, stripped naked and hooked up my fucking machine. Pulling the carpet sweeper handle even deeper inside me than Sammy's cock had gone and using Cholito sucking me as a fantasy, I got off three times.
In bed, I formulated a plan to meet Cholito in the morning at Forty-Ninth and Ninth Avenue. If he were alone, I'd act like I'd gone to do something up on Fiftieth and was now on my way to school. Then I'd ask him about what they taught in his class, about his teacher, what they were reading, anything to get us talking. Then I'd invite him to join me after school for pizza down near Forty-Sixth.
That didn't work either. He wasn't interested in talking and said he had to go straight home after school. I knew that was a lie. He carried a key to his apartment on a string around his neck. That meant nobody was inside his apartment except maybe brothers or sisters and that he went home whenever he pleased. I considered offering him some kind of phony job but he ran ahead to join some friends before I got the chance.
Wednesday at recess, I made a try for Lester but he immediately told Martin O'Reilly. They both laughed but not in my face. Lester would tell them anything.
I immediately sought out Steven Flaherty. He was coming back onto the playground from the sidewalk outside. His white blond hair glowed in the sunlight.
'Hi Spic,' he said returning my greeting. He was counting five dollar bills as we spoke, four of them. I couldn't think of anything to say. Was he hustling too? Where'd he get that kind of money? I noticed he was staring at me staring at the money.
'Looking for a loan?' he asked friendly as a banker.
I recovered. 'Nah, I was gonna ask if you wanted pizza lunchtime, my treat but you almost got as much as me.'
'How much you got?'
'On me, thirty-five.'
'Man, you got a job or something?'
'Yeh, I work some on weekends.'
'Doin' what?' The question had been meant as a friendly query but I had no ready answer.
'Oh, stuff.'
He rolled his pretty blue eyes probably thinking my reply indicated some kind of illegal activity. 'My old man don't want me working until I finish high school. That's why he's always giving me money. Here comes Georgie, see you later.'
Bam, gone, door closed.
There I stood, alone, with thirty-five dollars in my pocket and no one to spend it on. At lunch, I sneaked out to a store, bought five boxes of Spearmint Leaves and stuffed them into my pocket. Back on the playground, I acted like I had more than I wanted and gave boxes to four different boys I found at least moderately interesting. I made no special attempt to talk. All were accepted. One said nothing. The others said `Thanks.' But that was it. I went alone to the basement.
Thursday, I went to school with more Spearmint Leaves and three Clark Bars. I flashed a box of Spearmint Leaves at Lester then just waved it across his face and stuck it back in my pocket. `Punk faggot,' I muttered.
After giving a Clark Bar to a third grader, a girl from my block asked for one too. I told her I was out. She frowned and went back to her friends.
You're being very generous today,' commented Mr. Martinson that afternoon during our after school session. I told him my biological father, Ray Hoolihan, had given me some money. Well, that's very nice of you to share,' he said with a warm smile and gave me a hug.
Friday, I gave out two Clark Bars, three boxes of Spearmint Leaves and three Peanut Brittles: one to Cholito who gave me a strange look and slipped it into his torn coat pocket. That inspired me.
Saturday, I hustled with a plan that called for a twenty-five dollar day. Georgie had an eleven o'clock date. I convinced him to go early so we could score before that. We connected with a New Jersey john minutes after hitting the street and earned five each doing our show in a cheap hotel almost under the Westside Highway.
Georgie went to meet his date and I went to Herman's. Two of the Harrison hustlers came in, both wearing wool caps that accented their blond hair. Blond hair was a money magnet with the johns. After a brief consideration of bleaching my curls, I walked to the Port Authority Bus Terminal. A guy there wanted to take me into the men's room. He smelled unwashed so I said no.
I was starting to shiver from nearly an hour walking up and down the cold street when a john asked me for the time. I insisted on the Holland Hotel but he said he couldn't afford it and wanted to drive us in his car to Queens. 'You run with Georgie, don't you. You give head, right?'
'Yeh, but that costs five.' He agreed. I was desperate for money and warmth so I went. He drove his beat up old car to a cold Queens basement with cardboard on the floor. I kept my coat on and dropped my pants to my knees. He did the same and fondled me while I blew him. I'd never been with a john who didn't either suck me first or as I did him. Though I did enjoy a good BJ, which only half my customers knew how to give, the lack of sexual attention didn't really bother me. I'd heard about guys who weren't really into boys but just wanted someone, anyone, to get them off. It was fine with me as long as they paid.
Afterward, the man drove me a long way to an elevated station and gave me a token and a folded bill. He drove off as I was discovering it was just a dollar. Another first. This was the kind of asshole that convinced a lot of hustlers to rob their customers. I spent the money on a hot dog and soda before taking the train back to Times Square, determined to get a decent john this time, one that had more cash and the will to spend it.
The next guy took me to the Holiday Inn near Tenth Avenue where he gave me a fairly decent blowjob and paid me six dollars so I'd let him shoot his load in my mouth. He was smart and put his folded pants well out of reach. A lot of hustlers were experts at getting into pockets while their customers were busy sucking. Experienced johns took their pants completely off and folded them pockets inside pants legs. Pants and anything of value were then placed on a dresser or a chair well out of reach of the bed. Smart johns also dried off first after a shower so the hustler couldn't go alone into the room. I heard once of a stupid john who took two kids to the Holiday Inn, sucked one in the shower while the other waited in the room. After getting off, the kid in the shower told the guy to wait a minute while he called his friend for his turn. After a few minutes of silence, the jerk stuck his wet head out the bathroom door and found the room empty. The kids were gone along with his wallet, watch and shoes. No one ever told me how he managed to get home.
Bad mood as I was in after being ripped off by the previous john, I might, given the chance, have that day filched a bill or two from a fat wallet. But, I knew the resulting reputation could be a career ender. Successful, long time hustlers didn't rob their customers. They just conned them for all they could.
To help me get rid of the taste of his spunk, the john bought me a meal that was delivered to our room. It was three and I'd only earned eleven dollars. The street was empty of potential customers. I went back to the Port Authority. I charged the smelly guy three to suck me in the toilet. That made fourteen. I wished I'd brought money from my stash. Georgie reappeared on the street. He claimed he'd only earned three and a meal that was bullshit because Georgie never spent more than an hour or so with a customer without sweet talking five or more. He was a real sharpie. He sometimes got extra for bringing me as a new face to some of his regular customers. I didn't say anything because I planned to do the same some day and, I still loved Georgie.
I was still short eleven dollars for Cholito's coat. It wasn't going to happen. A john Georgie knew took us into a movie theater and paid three each to suck us individually in the lavatory. He did me second and gave another buck to fuck me between the legs from behind. Some of his cum dripped onto my pants. I wanted to wash it off but worried someone would walk in as I stood bare assed in front of the sink. Once again, I wasn't wearing underwear.
My pants were still sticky when I got home. Knowing my mother would immediately recognize the smell if she picked them up unwashed, I scrubbed the spot before getting into bed. Brenda wanted to know what I was doing. I told her I'd had a bloody nose and was washing off where I dripped on my pants.
Sunday worked out better probably because I brought along fifty bucks for Cholito's coat and the overalls I wanted for myself. And it was warmer. I could open my coat and show off more of the wares. Georgie was with me again. His beauty always guaranteed business. He too had his coat open. Underneath was a torn jersey that exposed tummy skin. I knew it was working because the first of our three tricks had his hands all over Georgie's middle the minute we were inside his house. He had taken us by subway to an apartment on the lower East Side. He wanted the complete show sucking and fucking while he watched from a La-Z-Boy and beat off. I told him it would cost ten each for the sucking show and five extra for one of us to fuck the other. He tried to lower me to five and ten but the apartment was set up for us. I figured he was hot to trot. I held my ground. He agreed. We sucked and Georgie fucked me. He wanted me to screw Georgie but, as usual, Georgie flat out refused. The man offered five then ten more.
`Nobody fucks me,' insisted Georgie calmly.
So the man had me fuck him. It was a first. He wanted me to stick him while he lay face down on the bed. Pulling his skinny ass cheeks apart, I got my peter all the way into his hairy hole. I hardly felt anything. He raised his rear and I pressed. After fucking him for over ten minutes and not even getting very hard, I faked an orgasm so I could get back to the Square. I left with fifteen dollars and three subway tokens.
I sucked off the second john at the Holiday Inn for five. The third only wanted Georgie so I went along for the ride to a nice apartment in Brooklyn. While there, Georgie informed the john that I'd suck him for five and take the load for six. I earned six but had to wait until we were let off near the Square to buy a soda and gum to get the taste out of my mouth.
It was almost four. I didn't want Georgie around when I bought the coat for Cholito.
`I feel kinda sick. I think that last guy's cum had something nasty in it. I'm goin' home.'
I walked toward Eighth Avenue looking back over my shoulder at where Georgie went. The moment he turned up Seventh Avenue, I ran across the street and into the subway station. I took a shuttle to Grand Central and another train to Fifty Ninth and Lexington. Bloomindale's was closed. Asking questions of passersby about clothing stores was a complete waste of time. The vast majority just pushed past with only a glance down at me. There'd be no coat for Cholito until Monday.
I took the train back to Grand Central. Right smack in front of me as I walked toward the shuttle was a store with jackets in the window. `All Sizes' it advertised. I found a nice warm coat with a zipper for twenty-six fifty. Nobody sold overalls.
Monday morning was windy and cold, perfect for the situation. I waited at Forty-Ninth and Ninth. When Cholito came to the corner, I handed him the coat and walked away toward school. I desperately wanted to look back and catch his reaction but controlled the urge. Cholito chased after me.
`How come you're giving me this?' There was no animosity or suspicion in his voice, just cold curiosity.
`'Cause you're a good kid and that coat you're wearin' ain't for shit.'
Cholito stared at me then his old coat. A look of determination on his face, he pulled the surplus knapsack book bag off his shoulders and handed it to me. He took off his old torn coat and clamped it between his knees. The new coat fit perfectly. He looked it over sleeve to sleeve.
`Thanks, Gato.' The dimpled look on his face was pure joy.
I felt absolutely wonderful, probably better than him. Although I didn't recognize it at that moment, it was the first time anyone had ever thanked me so genuinely. The gift was hardly given from the pure goodness of my heart but a sense of having done something right seeped into my selfish mind.
Cholito took a folded paper and some coins out of the old coat's pockets and tossed it basketball style into a trashcan on the corner of my block.
`Don't tell nobody I gave it to you.'
`My aunt give it to me,' he said grinning.
I asked him about his teacher and what he read in class and told him about our class.
At school, he showed off his new coat but nobody looked my way when he did. A couple of times during recess, he winked at me. He joined me for lunch and bubbled over how much warmer the new coat was. We talked about difficulties with arithmetic and two girls in his class whom he thought might like him. I didn't know about them but I was sure starting to like him.
Tuesday was a holiday thanks to George Washington arranging to be born on that day. I hung around Ninth between our blocks to see if Cholito would show but he didn't. Forty-Second Street was cold and dead, not a john in sight. I walked briskly up Seventh Avenue looking for a store that sold overalls. After ten blocks, I headed over to Fifth Avenue and Fifty-Ninth Street to Bloomindales. They were open this time and crowded. It took the lady several tries before she understood that I wanted the kind with the button up open slit on the side. The pants cost eighteen fifty. I went into a dressing room to try them on. They looked neat. I dropped the straps off my shoulders and removed my shirt. There were no underpants to take off. It felt fantastic. My muscles looked bigger, even my tits. With the slits open, you could see my bare skin. A john could stick his hand right in to my dick and, if he was close, no one could tell. I put my jacket on, unzipped, and carried my old pants and shirt out in the Bloomingdale's bag. A salesman in the shoes section focused on my bare chest. I winked. He turned away, ears glowing red.
Outside, I quickly realized that same pleasant airiness inside the heated department store was a liability outside in the February cold. I zipped up fast. My hips at the slits felt like they were going to freeze. I ran to the subway where it was somewhat warmer.
Back on Forty Second, the cold air penetrated through the pants' slits right to my dick and balls but I got a hit less than ten minutes after coming out of the subway onto the street. A young guy with hippie long hair came up close, reached in the overall's side slit right on the Square and fondled my hip.
You are cool,' he said obviously talking about my body temperature. Bet your balls are pea sized right now.'
I pulled a hand out of my coat pocket and slipped in through the slit. He was right.
We went in his Volkswagen bus to a New Jersey shopping center where we pigged out on pizza, hot chocolate and apple pie before going back to his Elizabeth apartment for a shower and sex. He had a white wig like old George W. wore in all his pictures.
'This is how I celebrate Washington's Birthday,' he declared and stuck the wig on my head while I blew him then his as he did me. We laughed all the way back to Manhattan. He gave me six.
I told my mother I met my biological father and he bought me the pants. She never talked to him so how would she find out he didn't. I wore them to school the next day but chumped out and wore a shirt and underpants.
Cholito, in his new coat and wearing a smile that activated all his dimples, was at my corner waiting for me. I gave him a Peanut Brittle Bar and opened mine. I told him about how my teacher was helping me with my studies and, if he liked, I'd ask him to include us both. He considered it for a moment then said, `Okay'.
Cholito really liked the overalls.
After eyeing my overalls with a look I'd seen on the Square, Mr. Martinson accepted my friend into our private afternoon sessions. Cholito was ahead of me academically but I kept up, paying close attention, determined not to seem stupid to my new friend. Cholito slipped and let out that I had bought his new coat. Mr. Martinson smiled but there was doubt in his eyes. I claimed Hoolihan had bought both the overalls and the coat.
After class, I was sorely tempted to ask Cholito to my basement but rejected the urge as premature. I wanted to be sure he liked me more before risking a sexual overture. I couldn't, however, resist putting my arm around his shoulder as we walked home. I calmed myself with my fucking machine using my memory from the previous summer of Cholito's beautiful brown legs to get off.
A seduction plan evolved with the following Tuesday as target date to start talking about beating off. I'd let his reactions guide me from there.
Cholito met me every morning, played tag with his friends at recess, ate lunch and walked home with me. Thursday went the same plus the hour we spent with Mr. Martinson doing catch up studies.
Our discussions ranged from movies and television to good supers and bad supers to grandparents to kids we knew and did or didn't like to who's building was colder in January to how lousy it was not having a father. I liked to talk and tended not to let others get a word in edgewise but found Cholito had lots of interesting things to say too. He had access to a television across the hall from his third floor apartment, and, as I, liked F Troop, but had never been to a movie. In fact, on his own, he'd never been below Forty-Fifth Street. His mother had taken him on a train a few times to an aunt's apartment in the Bronx but he'd been underground the entire trip. He had gone with friends to the waterfront and DeWitt Clinton Park on Fifty-Second and Twelfth Avenue. There'd been a couple of school outings to museums and one to Jones Beach. I could have gone too but my mother said she didn't have the three dollars for the trip to Jones Beach. Cholito thought I was a real traveler because I went to Times Square. He was afraid of that area because his mother told him that kids got kidnapped there by junkies and sold on the black market, wherever that was. Other kids had said it wasn't true but they didn't seem too sure. Of course, I didn't mention why I knew the area so well. I ended up promising to take him to Herman's Playland and a movie on Saturday morning. Then I planned to return to make some money.
Herman's opened at ten. We were waiting at the door. To avoid turning on johns and attracting attention hard to explain to Cholito, I left my new overalls in the closet and wore regular clothes and an old winter hat with earflaps. We spent nearly two dollars on games and trying to grab a gift in the crane machine. There were probably twenty customers in the place by the time we left but no johns approached me. It was early yet.
On the short walk to the movie, however, I spotted a guy who had taken me to the Holland Hotel and paid six for the take-it-all blowjob. I lowered my head in hopes he wouldn't see me but should have known better. There I was, a known hustler, with a new face beside me.
`Hey Ray, who's your friend?'
`Just a friend. We gotta go or we'll be late.'
`Well, bring your friend for me next time.'
I walked faster toward the theater and pulled Cholito along.
`Who's he?'
`Just some guy, friend of my father.'
`Why's he want me to come with you?'
That was more difficult. I hoped he didn't notice my hesitation. `He's just crazy is all. Here's the movie.'
The movie theater had, as usual, a double feature but I didn't have time. I led him out after the Bogart boxing film, The Harder They Fall, and started home. I loved Bogey even more than John Wayne.
A john from Queens who bought food and paid five for the BJ chased us down with a fast walk as we turned up Eighth Avenue. I caught him out of the corner of my eye, nodded no then motioned with my hand to wait. He mouthed `How long?' I flipped my hand three times indicating fifteen minutes.
Cholito never saw him. He was too engrossed in going over all the violent incidents in the movie to notice the Queens guy or remember the other john's remarks.
When we got to his corner, he said, `Thanks, Ray. That's the best fun I ever had. Can we go again next Saturday?'
The perfect inducement for what I had in mind for Tuesday. `Maybe. Depends.'
`C'mon, let's do it,' he begged.
`I don't know if I can. I'll tell you when I know.'
He poked me in the arm and headed home. I rushed back to the street to see if the Queens guy was still there. He was.