WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT BY: MOORE
PART 7
Chapter 24
Exhausted after my so called prayer meeting with Father Peter and Father Paul and their holy cocks, I was relaxing on a lounge chair in the backyard, waiting for Mark, when my mother and Mr. Levine came home and gave me the good news.
"We've decided to get married," they said in unison looking down at me with big smiles on their faces. "Where is Mark?" Mr. Levine asked. "He should hear this too."
"What should I hear?" Mark said, coming out back with two cokes and a big bowl of chips.
Mark had put on a lot of weight since the beginning of the summer. The tiny nylon swim suit he had on, the same thong style I was wearing from Sebbe's fagwear collection, was all but hidden by his rolls of fat.
"Your father and I have decided to get married."
"Awesome. When?"
"Right away so you and your dad can move in here and get settled before school starts."
"Right away, huh? You must be knocked up?"
Ordinarily, Mark wouldn't have said such a mean thing, wouldn't have embarrassed my mother like that if he wasn't high on weed or something. We knew for a fact that they were sleeping together, secretly having sex at Mark's house, but they didn't know we knew.
"No, Mark, I am not going to have a baby. Your father and I, we are sleeping together and yes, we are having sex...no different from what you and Steven are doing."
Holy shit! Who are you and what have you done with my mother? I thought, shocked by her bold flat out admission. She had changed a lot actually since finding out and accepting the fact that Mark and I were homosexuals. She knew we slept together naked, were having sex in my bedroom when the door was closed. She said nothing when we left the bathroom together after our morning shower or when she saw me wearing the outrageously sexy and totally gay underwear I got from Sebbe.
"Well, now," Mr. Levine said, taking my mother's hand. "Seems like all of our little secrets have been exposed. We have to be going, Mary, Rabbi Myerson is expecting us at the synagogue and then your Father Peter at the church. A rabbi and a priest, boys, we're going to ask them both to officiate at the wedding. Both families will be there too. Who says a jew and a gentile can't get married?"
Mark was at my side as soon as we heard the car drive off. "I always wanted a brother to screw around with. Roll over, Steven, and spread 'em. Let's celebrate the happy occasion."
The backyard was private, but not that private. A nosey neighbor, kids playing hide and seek or looking for a ball could see through the bushes easily enough. My mild protest fell on deaf ears.
"A quick blow job first," Mark said, straddling the lounge chair and grinding his crotch in my face. "I'll fuck you after you suck me off, cocksucker."
Mark was high as a kite, hard as a rock and smelled like he'd had some fun himself this morning while I was busy trading blow jobs with Fathers Peter and Paul. The smell of sex, semen and sweat, was irresistable. "Go for it, faggot."
The tiny piece of nylon came away easily when I grabbed it between my teeth. His five inch dick just as easily found its way all the way home until my lips could go no further and my nose was buried in his patch of pubic hair. With Mark's cock in my mouth, heck, with any cock in my mouth I was a different boy; eager to suck, eager for the cum...and the nosey neighbors could mind their own business.
"Suck it white boy, suck that cock in your faggot mouth, SCUMBAG!!" Mark cried out as he roughly grabbed my ears, something we agreed never to do to each other, and thrust wildly into my mouth. Mark was punishing me, using my ears like handles to control my head, using me like...like I was nothing more than a common Times Square street fag.
Like Jeckyl and Hyde, this was a side of Mark I had never seen and he'd called me scumbag. I was cocksucker...he was faggot, our names from the posing straps. Scumbags were cheap, used once and tossed aside like garbage all slimy and filled with cum. Something was definitely upsetting Mark. He had never ever treated me so rough and I didn't much like being called a scumbag. And white boy? What was that all about?
I moved my hands to his balls to slow him down a bit so I could breathe. The sack was wet and sticky, slick with what felt like cum. It was cum and more of it was oozing out of his asshole. One finger slipped inside him easily and then a second. Cum kept pouring out of Mark's wide open asshole. I tore away my thong to free my raging hardon, positioned the head at his semen slicked hole and with one upward thrust my dick was balls deep inside him. I was fucking my friend who hated to be fucked while he battered my mouth with his dick.
"What was that all about?" I said after cumming hard up his ass and taking what had to be the biggest load of cum Mark had ever shot off into my mouth. "And why did you call me a scumbag? Are you angry about something?"
"I'm sorry, Steven," he sobbed, turning away to hide the tears in his eyes.
I rushed to his side and took him in my arms. "What's the matter? What's gotten into you?"
"I, I, don't ask, okay. I don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry if I hurt...jesus, your face is all red and scratched. Please forgive me."
How could I not forgive him, we were going to be brothers when our parents tied the knot. I kissed away his tears and laughed when he tickled me under my balls. The laughter died in my sperm filled throat when I saw what looked like a needle mark on the inside of his arm.
We were both erect again, kissing and hugging and rubbing our cocks together when a ball came flying over the bushes from the yard next to mine. We didn't wait for its owner to come looking for it, or stop to pick up our discarded thongs, but made a hasty retreat to the house and up to my bedroom.
"I want you in my mouth, Steven."
"And I want you, Mark."
"I love you, cocksucker."
"I love you too, faggot."
We were still in bed together naked when I heard the front door open and close. Mark was asleep with my dick in his mouth so I raised my head up slowly so as not to wake him up, and listened closely. It was only my mother and Mr. Levine. I lowered my head back down and gently nudged Mark's dick back into my mouth. One more minute to enjoy his cock I thought and then I'd get up.
I suppose they saw us that way because my bedroom door was wide open and the thongs we had left in the backyard were on my dresser when I awoke from sleep. Mark was unconcerned when I told him what I suspected.
"Get over it, Steven. So what if she saw us in what you think is a compromising position. Your mother knows we're fags and she wasn't born yesterday. She knows we're having sex and what fags do with each other."
"Yeah, well, her knowing I suck cock is one thing. Seeing me doing it, seeing me naked with a dick in my mouth is something else. It's embarrassing."
"Beacuse she's a woman?"
"Well, yeah, sort of."
"Hey, you weren't embarrassed the other day when we met Lorraine at her mother's apartment on Park Avenue and she watched you go down on her Chinese houseboy?"
"Oh, please, it's not the same. Lorraine's mother was naked and she was balling the cook while I was blowing her houseboy."
"That was the butler. Lorraine was screwing the cook."
"Cook, butler, whatever. The woman was stark naked, fucking her brains out not a foot from where I was standing."
"True, but you weren't embarrassed to strip naked in front of her. And you weren't embarrassed to get down on your knees and suck dick while she watched. I saw you smile when she squeezed your nuts and called you a cute cocksucker."
"You don't understand. Ah, forget it. Let's get dressed and get something to eat."
We were halfway down the stairs when my mother's angry voice rang out from the kitchen.
"I can't believe it, Harry. I just can't believe the two of them would take such a position. I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."
"Uh, oh. Wait up, Mark. Sounds like she's talking about us. I want to hear this."
"Frankly, Mary, I'm a bit surprised myself. They were so blatant about it, so uncaring of our feelings. But that's the way they are and let's face facts, we are not going to change the two of them."
"She definitely saw us, your father too," I whispered in Mark's ear. "And they sound upset."
"My father will handle it," Mark whispered back. "He's seen me doing stuff with boys before."
"We have to do something quickly, Harry. Sleeping together, this living in sin is making me uneasy. I have to tell my family...and soon."
"We have to talk," I said to Mark, pointing back towards my room. "You heard what she said? She was referring to us."
"So what."
"So we have to change is what. At least I have to change before my mother makes me change. Don't you see, her conscious is starting to bother her, her son a homosexual. I knew it was too good to be true...too good to last. So I have to change."
Mark looked me straight in the eye and smiled his little smile before speaking. "So you have to change, huh? Does that mean you're giving up cocksucking and taking cock up that pussy ass of yours? You're not going to be a fag anymore?"
"Well, no. I'll still be a fag. Only we should be more careful around the house when she's home. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah, sure. Like no pissing in your mouth with the bathroom door open?"
My mother and Mr. Levine weren't upset with Mark and I, as we found out over dinner that night. They were angry with Father Peter and Rabbi Myerson because both of them refused to marry them or take part in the ceremony. My mother's sisters and brothers, her parents even, were appalled that she was going to marry a Jewish man. "I always wanted to go to Puerto Rico," my mother said when Mr. Levine suggested they get married in San Juan where he had a lot of friends. "We can get married there and honeymoon too...and the boys can come along." Chapter 25 San Juan was hot and humid, the hotel like a dream...and so was Luis, the Latino room service boy I sucked off while he and Mark passed a joint back and forth shortly after we checked in. Our parents got married that night, a simple ceremony under the stars followed by cocktails and dinner. Harry Levine and Mary Ryan were now husband and wife, Mark and I were step-brothers. We celebrated the happy occasion with Luis and three other boys from the hotel staff. Puerto Rican rum and Puerto Rican cum, I happily discovered after two blow jobs, made a spicy and potent drink. "Wait until you see the cabana boys at the pool tomorrow morning," Mark said, slurring the words as he slid into bed and put my legs over his shoulders. "Luis is going to pass the word to all the boys on staff." Mark had had a few rum and cum cocktails too, he was having a problem finding my hole. "Are you drunk?" "Guide my dick in, Steven. My hands are shaking from all the weed I smoked." "Just go easy on me, will you. My ass is still sore from the pounding I took from the cabin attendant. I wonder how he knew I'd let him fuck me?" Mark laughed. "I told him you were a fag when he brought the lunch trays. Told him my faggot friend wanted to join the mile high club, but was too shy to ask." "So that's why he was so anxious to show me the lavatory. There was hardly enough room in there to take my pants off, let alone spread my legs wide enough to take his thick cock." Mark fucked me nice and easy, bending me back until my dick reached my lips. His orgasm triggered mine, ass and mouth filled with one more load of the glorious semen I couldn't seem to live without anymore. After the wedding, Mark and I were pretty much on our own. A good thing too since the word spread quickly among the hotel staff about the two young fags in room 306. Mark was constantly high on weed and pills, I was high on sex. Three days of almost non-stop sex, two guys at a time in my mouth and ass, two more watching, waiting their turn, and I was exhausted. "Let's go to the beach today," I said to Mark as we stepped into the shower. "I need a break." "Okay, sure. There's a nude beach about a mile from here." "Like totally naked, women too?" Washington Baths had been guys only and contained within a relatively small space. A nude beach was like a whole country where nobody wore clothes. Like the African boys in the National Geographic magazine, the picture that had brought Mark and I together a lifetime ago. "Sandals are optional. Where do you want it this morning?" "In my mouth," I said, dropping to my knees and bringing Mark's cock to my lips. Drinking his urine in the shower had became a morning ritual, along with rimming his asshole before bending over for my first fuck of the day. Some mornings he pissed in my pussy and ejaculated in mouth if I hadn't sucked him off the night before or if I just felt like eating a load of sperm. "I'm gonna wear the thong suit I got from Sebbe." "The yellow one?" "Yeah. It matches the yellow sandals I got at the baths." "You better wear something over the thong, Steven, or we'll never get out of the hotel." Modestly covered up in a long T shirt that came down to my knees we had breakfast with my mother and Harry before setting out for the beach. She looked happy and radiant, frequent sex has that effect on people as I well knew, and very sexy in the two piece bathing suit she had on. "Are they all homosexuals, Steven?" My mother asked as every young guy on the staff came by our table to say hello and to find out what Mark and I had planned for the day. "I don't know, mom," I replied honestly. "Some might be." "Have you had sex with all of them?" "Mom, please, you're embarrassing me." "Don't be such a prude, honey, I'm just trying to understand this thing...why you and Mark do what you do with each other and with other boys. I did it to Harry last night, not very well I'm afraid but he seemed to enjoy it anyway." I nearly choked on a piece of bacon when the lady next to me, the lady who looked just like my mother put her mouth to my ear and whispered, "Tell me, Steven, why is it called a blow job?" I was saved from having to answer when Harry rose from the table. "We won't be back until Sunday, boys," Harry said, taking my mother's hand. "We're going sailing on a friend's boat so you're on your own for dinner tonight and all day tomorrow." "What was your mother whispering about?" Mark asked as we left the hotel and made our way to the beach. "Blow jobs," I said with a laugh. "She gave your father head last night and she wanted to know why it was called a blow job." Mark thought that was pretty funny and I had to agree. "I guess that makes my father the only member of this family that hasn't sucked a cock." We walked along the water's edge, holding hands, alone on the white sand beach. "Jesus, it's hot," I said, stripping off my T shirt and diving into the heavy surf to cool off. Mark plunged in after me and came up sputtering and laughing when a big wave crashed over him. I swam out a distance and body surfed a wave back to shore, repeating the process until Mark, who didn't know how to swim, got impatient. At Mark's urging I didn't put on my T shirt, but strode down the deserted sand all but naked in my thong and sandals. "I believe we have arrived," Mark said as we came over the top of a sand dune to a white sand beach surrounded by tall palm trees. Three naked children, a boy and two girls, were building a sand castle at the water's edge. A naked man with a huge uncut penis and a naked woman with small breasts were standing nearby watching over their offspring. All told, there were about thirty people clustered around the small secluded beach. Men and women, boys and girls, every single one of them completely naked and not a tan line in the bunch. "Would you look at the jaw buster on that guy, Steven. How'd you like to get on your knees and wrap your lips around that beauty? C'mon, cocksucker, let's strip and mingle." "You go ahead, Mark, all these dicks. I'm afraid I'll get a boner and embarrass myself." "Oh c'mon, it's a nude beach and your practically naked anyway in that thong. Nobody'll even notice or care if you get an erection. I know you're a faggot cocksucker, but no one will suspect a thing. Look over there, Steven, the tall kid tossing a frisbee with that lady who looks like his mom. He's got a hardon and..." "Okay, I'll do it." No sooner had I stripped off my thong when a pretty, blond, flat chested girl came over and asked Mark and I if we wanted to play volley ball. She giggled when I blushed and turned away from her to hide my stiffening cock. "Don't be embarrassed," she said sweetly. "My brother Frank is sixteen and he gets erections all the time. My daddy too, really big ones. My mommy says that healthy boys and men are supposed to get erections and since we're nudists it's okay for me to look at a boy's penis." "Here," Mark said, turning me around. "Look all you want." "Yours is kind of nice," she said hesitantly. "Small, but nice. Do you masturbate?" Mark doubled over in laughter. I wanted to bury myself in the sand. "Frank masturbates all the time, maybe that's why his penis is so much bigger than yours. He calls it jerking off and he lets me watch him do it when mommy and daddy aren't home." We left our stuff, what little there was of it, under a palm tree and joined the game. "This is so weird," I said to Mark when the game broke a while later for a vegetarian lunch. "All these dicks and nobody's sucking." "They're nudists, not fags. You and me are the only fags on the beach." "You boys want something to eat?" "No thanks," Mark answered for both of us. "We have to be going." "We do? Where?" Mark took me aside, "To the gay beach, cocksucker, for something really good to eat." "Be careful son," one of the men called out as I raced after Mark. "There's been reports of kidnappers roaming the beach, preying on tourists for a quick buck."I caught up to Mark and we walked for miles, or what seemed like miles looking for the gay beach. We didn't see another living sole, gay or straight. We were both hot, hungry and thirsty...I was naked except for my trusty yellow flip-flops. In my haste, I'd left my T shirt and thong behind at the nude beach.
"Maybe we should go back," I suggested, dropping down to the sand next to Mark. "Before we die from heat stroke."
"Yeah, I guess we should. I'm sorry, Steven."
"Forget it, Mark, it's not your fault. The fags must have...shit, don't move, there's a guy in a dune buggy and it's heading our way."
"That's good. Maybe we can offer to blow him in exchange for a ride back to the hotel."
"Yeaaah, maybe," I said cautiously, suddenly feeling very naked and very vulnerable as the dune buggy came closer.
You can add homosexual teenage boys to the list of people that god watches out for because driving that dune buggy was none other than Sebastian Stepanopoulos.
As Mark and I gratefully climbed into the dune buggy, Sebbe told us that he was in Puerto Rico to provide the "entertainment" for a few clients from New York. We knew what he meant by entertainment. He offered to drive us back to our hotel now or to join his little sex party for the rest of the day and he'd drive us back later.
"Don't worry, Steven," he said, patting my dick. "Nobody's worn more than sun tan lotion since we arrived. You'll fit right in."
The house was beautiful, situated on top of a hill overlooking the ocean. As were all the naked young men entertaining Sebbe's naked clients by the pool when we arrived. They could have been models or actors or simply good looking college guys on summer vacation, rather than the carefully chosen party boys I knew them to be. I recognized them all from the Emporium, when they'd stop in to pick up their assignments for the night.
The clients were all men of course, in their 60's judging by the grey hair on their heads, chests and crotches. Wealthy men who enjoyed the company of good looking males, who patronized Sebbe's costly escort service because of his reputation for the quality of his boys and his discretion. One tall man with a long, thin cock that swayed when he walked came over and put his hands on my shoulders.
"A very nice surprise," he said over my head to Sebbe who was behind me. "One of yours?"
"Yes, sir," Sebbe said without hesitation. "One of my new boys."
Wow! One of his boys. I felt proud, and a little nervous that Sebbe would risk his reputation on my skills as a cocksucker and pussy boy. If given the chance to whore myself for Sebbe, there was no way I would let him down.
"He looks a little young, not that I mind. Is he legal?"
Sebbe laughed. "Perhaps not in New York, Mr. Garson...but we're not in New York, sir."
"Hmmm. No we're not."
The slight downward pressure on my shoulders and the rapid upward movement of the tall man's cock sent a tingle up and down my spine. I was about to become one of Sebbe's boys, one of a very select group of well paid fags.
"Nice and slow, son," he said as I went to my knees and eagerly licked all around the head of his dick.
"Yes sir, Mr. Garson," I replied after kissing the tip. Then I took him slowly into my mouth for my first blow job as a professional cocksucker.
Before the sun went down I serviced them all at least once with my mouth and ass, amazed them too with my ability to suck my own cock. I was so full of cum that I couldn't eat dinner. So keyed up with sexual energy that I hadn't even noticed that Mark had been missing for hours, or that anything was wrong when he returned with one of the clients I hadn't seen all day.
For some reason, Sebbe was madder than hell when he saw the two of them stagger in. He ripped Mark away and told the client to pack his bag and get his ass out of the house immediately. "Go peddle that shit someplace else!!" He roared, brandishing a steak knife he'd picked up from the table. "I'll cut your nuts off you son of a bitch...cut'em off and shove'em down your throat if ever catch you fucking around again with one of my boys."
Sebbe took Mark's hand and lead him away. I went back under the dining room table, back to the hairy balls I'd been licking before the commotion began. Nothing further was said about the incident that night or the following day, or even after we had returned to New York.
It wasn't until well into the school term that Mark, who'd been cutting classes and going to the City by himself, finally told me what had made Sebbe so angry.
I didn't believe it at first, he had to be kidding. Mark was to smart to do something so stupid. "You're serious?" I said after he took off his pants and I saw the marks.
"The high is incredible...you should try it once."
"I get high on sex, I'm a fag," I blurted out, unable to think of anything else to say.
"It makes sex even better, Steven," Mark said as I stared at the needle marks on the inside of his thigh. "Twice a week is all, I swear it. I can't afford to get high more than that anyway, the dealer in Harlem wants cash up front."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, that Mark would be so stupid. The pills and the grass were bad enough, but...no wonder Sebbe had gone ballistic in Puerto Rico. He hated drugs, wouldn't allow so much as a pill in his shop.
"You've got to stop, Mark, get help before its too late."
"Trust me, Steven, I can handle it. Now stop worrying," Mark thrust his cock towards my face, "and start sucking. Start acting like a fag."
Chapter 25
Despite Mark's assurances, I didn't stop worrying about him throughout our sophomore and junior years in high school. His drug use was out of control. I did start acting and dressing like a fag in school though, early in January of our sophomore year, simply because there was no longer any reason to hide what I was. I came to school one Monday morning and discovered that everybody knew I was a queer.
Stuart Kaminsky was responsible for outing me. I'd begged off blowing him and Mitch and two other guys from the basketball team after a game the previous Friday. I had a cold and my nose was stuffed. "Cocksuckers have to breathe too," I said, expecting them to understand, and offered them my ass instead. Mitch and the other two guys took me up on my offer and fucked me silly. Stuart couldn't get it hard enough to stick his dick into my wide open cum filled pussy. I laughed when he came on my balls and foolishly called him a wet noodle in front of everyone.
The time was right I guess. I won't say that it wasn't embarrassing being exposed as a homosexual, but it wasn't as bad as I always feared it would be. The girls stopped laughing at me and whispering behind my back after a few days. The boys took a little longer and then, when the novelty of calling me a cocksucker and a fag wore off and the realization of what they had in their midst set in...they all wanted blow jobs.
Well, not all, there were close to 1,000 boys in my high school. But more than enough to keep me busy. Stuart actually did me a big favor because now I could suck cock in the locker room, instead of just sneaking quick looks when we changed for gym, and suck cock in the boy's bathroom during study hall and lunch. The teachers, matronly women except for the phys-ed teachers, suspected that something odd was going on. It wasn't until the middle of February though, when one of them caught me going down on asenior that Mr. Wexler, the principal, finally called me in for a chat.
I felt sorry for Mr. Wexler who, after beating around the bush for ten minutes, finally found the courage to ask the burning question. "Are you a homosexual, Steven?
"Yes sir, Mr. Wexler," I said, standing tall and looking him straight in the eye. "I am a homosexual, sir."
"What you were doing with that boy in the storage closet? Did he force you to do it?"
"It? Oh, you mean the blow..the oral sex?"
"Um, yes. The uh, oral sex." Wexler came out from behind his desk and closed the door to his office. He looked a little shaky, unsteady on his feet. "Did he, um, force you to get on your knees, make you, ah, make you take his penis into your mouth?"
"No sir," I said as the door lock snapped into place and the light came on in my brain. Mr. Wexler was a widower, his wife had passed away at least a year ago and he was only about fifty. Maybe, just maybe he was interested and I was eager to find out. "No sir, he didn't force me. Like I said, I'm a homosexual, sir. I wanted to take his penis..." Wexler stepped towards me, his hand was in his crotch..."I wanted to suck his cock."
"You're a good looking boy, Steven," Mr. Wexler said as his hand touched my shoulder. "A nice boy. I'd hate to see you get into trouble over this matter. Maybe get suspended."
I let my hand lightly brush against his crotch...he was hard. "Yes sir, thank you sir. I'll do anything to avoid that, Mr. Wexler."
"Anything, Steven?"
Sebbe had warned me that if I wanted to turn pro, work for him as an escort when I turned eighteen I had to finish high school at the top of my class and get into an Ivy League college. The wealthy men I'd be entertaining, businessmen and politicians were predominantly graduates of Harvard and Yale. They wanted a bright young man with a good education and good social skills. A young man who could pass as a nephew or a grandson at public events. Being a good cocksucker and pussy boy was only a small part of what it took to be one of Sebbe's boys.
My high school grades were only okay, more time in the library with a book in my hand and less time my on my knees with a dick in my mouth...perhaps a few more A's and a better score on my SAT exam could be arranged. "Yes sir, Mr. Wexler, I'll do anything."
I serviced Morton Wexler for about two years and my grades showed a marked improvement. Weekday blows jobs in his office and twice a month a thorough fucking at his house on Saturday morning. During those two years I continued to have sex with Father Peter, Father Paul joined us for a three-way whenever he could, and I continued to service the dwindling number of my classmates who would still accept a blow job from a fag. During those years, Harry was travelling a lot for business and my mother joined him on trips that kept them away from home for weeks at a time. Mark was heavily into the drug scene and most nights I slept alone in the bed we used to share. Chapter 26 "School starts tomorrow, Sebbe, senior year, and I haven't seen Mark in a week. Do you have any idea where he is?" "I think I know where he is, but it's not safe for you to go there." "Tell me, please. I have to find him and bring him home." Sebbe relented and I took the subway uptown to Harlem, to a slum building on 127th Street and Amsterdam Avenue. Whores, pimps and drug dealers mingled freely with young black men on the crowded sidewalk. "Hey, white boy. Whatcha here for?" A particularly large black fellow hollered out. "Nigger pussy, nigger dick or drugs? Fuck, suck or get high?" "Get high," I said, though going down on a big black cock, getting high on a mouthful of cum would have been my first choice if I wasn't looking for Mark. "I want to score some drugs." "Third floor, white boy. If you got the dough we got the snow." The staircase was dim and littered with needles and used condoms. Huge rats picked through the piles of trash. The first floor was devoted to sex. Scantily clad black women of various ages stood in front of each apartment door on the first floor. I hurried past and climbed the stairs to the second floor where the smell of urine, sweat and semen hit me like a ton of bricks and stopped me dead in my tracks. No women here, just men. Six big black men that turned my legs to jelly and my dick into an embarrassing spike. "Stop right there white boy. Looks like you're packin' heat." "No, no," I said quickly to the oversized stud who had noticed the obvious bulge in my thin cotton pants. "I'm looking for a friend upstairs." "Gotta search you first, boy. Drop the pants." I did as I was told and they had a good laugh over the string bikini I was wearing. "Lookin' for a friend, huh? Got a friend for you right here, boy. His name's Johnson and he loves to make new friends, 'specially with queer white boys. How 'bout you get down on your knees faggot and give old Johnson a little kiss?" "Well, maybe a little one," I said as he unzipped and hauled out his uncut cock. Six blow jobs later, my new friend Nate escorted me up to the third floor to look for Mark. This was where drugs were sold and used, where addicts sold their bodies and souls for a fix. It wasn't pretty to see what a human being would do to get high. One white girl was taking on three guys. They were using her mouth and cunt and they weren't the first ones to use her. There was fresh cum all over her face and tits. Another girl was sucking a dog's dick while a second dog was stabbing at her ass with a cock that would split her in half if it ever found its mark. Nate laughed along with the dozen men who were watching the spectacle. I turned away, sick to my stomach at the sight of such depravity. "C'mon," Nate said. The faggots are back here. If your friend's here that's where he'll be." Mark was lying naked on a filthy mattress. There were needle tracks and dried cum all over his body. His eyes lit up, not when he saw me and Nate, but when another black man approached the bed with a hypodermic needle in his hand. "Not so fast, white boy. Couple a dicks need takin' care of 'for I give you this shit. Show me some pussy, faggot." I gasped when Mark went to his hands and knees. His asshole was huge, the size of an orange. Mark was a cocksucker, he hated to get fucked. I couldn't imagine how many guys must have fucked him, let alone the size of the cocks and whatever else had been in his ass to stretch him so wide open. Two big dicked guys took turns fucking him, then Mark sat on both their dicks which explained the size of his hole. They got off in his ass, cum was pouring out of him. I lost it when he licked their cocks and balls clean of cum and shit, turned and fled when they two more guys with huge pricks started to fuck him all over again. "He didn't even recognized me," I said to Sebbe when I got back downtown. "I have to go back, get him out of there before it's too late." "I'll go with you, Steven. Let me get some guys together and we'll drag him out of there if we have to." ~~~~ Mark spent two months in the hospital and then Harry sent him out of state to a private clinic for teens with chronic drug addiction. I saw him a few days before he was released from the hospital. We laughed a little and cried a little, I assured him that the clinic would be okay. Just before I had to leave he asked if I wanted to suck his cock. "When you come home from the clinic, Mark," I sobbed, hugging him tight. "When you're better, faggot." He looked at me with that funny little smile that I knew so well and gave me a kiss. "I'll look forward to the blow job, cocksucker." I never saw him again. ~~~~ Mark Levine died of a drug overdose on June 28, 1967, the day of our high school graduation. I wore a faded and tattered red posing strap to his private funeral. The one he had given me so long ago. The posing strap with COCKSUCKER printed on the pouch. Cocksucker and faggot, our pet names for each other. Hundreds, no thousands of guys had called me a cocksucker since Mitch Green called me a cocksucker and made me suck his dick in the locker room back in 9th grade. No telling how many cocks I had sucked in the past, or how many cocks I would suck in the future, or how many guys would call me a cocksucker in the years to come. What did it matter, Mark was gone. Mark was gone. Never again would I suck his cock. Never again would I hear Mark call me a cocksucker.