I had just returned to the school yard from lunch at home, more like a prison yard of concrete and fences adjacent to the fortress-like middle school. At the center of the yard was a large knot of kids, all milling around a core where something was happening that I couldn't see yet. Girls were giggling and covering their mouths and boys were hooting and flushed. I worked myself into the crowd and then saw it.
Ferlazzo, who looked a lot older than his 14 years, had four of his acolytes holding a fifth on the ground, one at each corner. The victim was pinned down face up by his four buddies wile Ferlazzo strutted around in full command. The boy on the ground had his pants open and his shriveled white penis was flopping back and forth as he struggled to be free. Every now and again, Ferlazzo would reach down and flick the penis with his hand and despite the boy's humiliation, or perhaps because of it, he was starting to erect.
I wormed my way out of the crowd and fled to a far corner of the yard, terrified and hoping that Ferlazzo might decide to turn his eyes on me. Not that there was any chance of that: I was beneath his notice. But the sight of that boy helpless on the ground, his sad little penis displayed for all to see, seared itself into my memory. Terror, yes, and fascination.
The school year ended two weeks later and one summer evening I went out for a walk and found myself wandering into the school yard, now dark and deserted. I had not set out with this in mind but I was not free to do otherwise. The pavement was illuminated only faintly by a distant street light. The streets adjacent to the yard were empty. Then standing where the boy had been, I opened my pants and took out my penis. I say "I opened my pants," but that's suggests volition. Oh, yes, it was my hand, my penis, but there was no choice in that. I watched in fascination and terror as I stiffened and with a suppressed cry, spontaneously ejaculated. I was so intent on watching what was happening that I hadn't heard the footsteps.
"What are you up to, kid?"
It was a police officer.
I snapped back into awareness and hurriedly pushed the sticky penis into my pants and tried frantically to zip up, too terrified to run.
"I was just out for a walk. Too hot to sleep," I whispered.
He was tall and powerful, and stared at me steadily, his face in shadows, a long silence.
Then, softly, he said. "OK, sonny. Go home."
I ran from the school yard.