William Rush

This Love Lost in My Heart

Part I

I sat on the park bench and I felt this tinge of guilt, wondering if I should go and offer to give him some money for a favor. I wondered if he'd agree, but I doubted it. He was hungry and if he was hungry it probably meant he hadn't gotten desperate enough to turn tricks. That was a good thing I guess. Turning tricks is the worst way to earn money, you can never tell where they'll go. It's ironic that the really nice johns are usually the ones you need to worry about, the closet psychos who turn into sadists. When I was thirteen a guy burnt me with a cigarette right above my penis. I poked him in the eye and I'm not talking Three Stooges poke, I jammed my thumb into his eye socket and jumped out of his car and ran. If I hadn't, I don't know what he'd have done.

Every kid on the street has a story, that's the first thing you learn. None of them come out clean. The second thing you learn is to stay away from the shelters. Half the fucking counselors in those places are trying to get in your pants, the other half just don't seem to care anymore. Even if you don't have to worry about the counselors, you still have to worry about getting punked. I only used the restroom once in a shelter, and when I did I found one of my friend's, Crow, curled up in a ball. Three older boys had taken turns with him. He couldn't stop crying. I helped him up and we left.

I've been off the streets for awhile now, almost twenty years, but it doesn't change. I come downtown so I can remember where I came from. It sounds like I'm beating myself up, but I'm not, sometimes I just need something to get me motivated, to make me remember that the world sucks if you don't have money. Last week I went to work in a boiler room. I'm the guy you hear on the other end of the phone, telling you, you've just won a trip to beautiful Orlando, Florida. Three days and two nights in a five star resort, all I need is your credit card number. I'm good at it. I make more sales than most of the other schmucks there combined, but I've been doing this awhile, talking my way through life.

I could take as long a lunch as I wanted, that was the nice thing about my job. They knew I made them money, so they never tossed me any shit. If I left at noon, they just told me to have a good one and asked if I was coming in tomorrow. Today I'd made two hundred dollars in four hours. I should've stayed, but I ended up selling a package to a blind woman in San Francisco and ever since then my stomach felt like shit.

The kids sleeping. I can tell, he hasn't moved in thirty minutes. I felt sorry for him. Some pimp was going to grab him if he stayed out in the open like that. I know you think I'm talking about some black guy in bell-bottoms and a big fedora with a purple feather sticking out of the band, but that's not what they're like. Pimps drive Mercedes and wear Rolexs, they have thousand dollar suits and Italian leather shoes. They come up and offer to give you something to eat. They sit with you in the diner and tell you that they can help you make some real money, not the shit you're making now. They give you so much food you think you're going to throw up and then they pull out this wad of bills to pay and you think, 'man, I could be making that kind of money.' They don't tell you they're going to get you strung out on heroine and leave you in a room to get fucked over and over 'til you just don't care anymore, all you want is your fix.

I walked across the street. I stood about twenty feet [6 m] from the boy and he didn't move. If a street kid feels a shadow pass over him his eyes open, this poor little guy didn't even flinch, he couldn't have been out here long. I walked over to where he was sleeping and sat down so he was out of my reach.

"Hey," I said.

He didn't move, so I said it again, "Hey!"

His eyes opened, they were dark green and frightened. He looked at me, with my shaved head and goatie and probably thought the worst.

"Don't freak out," I said. "If I'd wanted to hurt you, I could've gotten you in your sleep little man."

"What do you want," he said, sliding away from me.

"You're not going to last if you keep doing this shit," I said.

"What do you mean?" He asked. "I haven't done nothing wrong."

"Kid," I said. "You're lucky I'm the one that woke you up and not someone else."

"Leave me alone," the kid said as he stood up.

I watched as he backed away from me, then I stood up too. I pulled a twenty from my wallet and held it out.

"What's that for," he asked.

"So you can get something to eat," I said.

"I don't need your money," he said.

"Looks like you do," I said, waving it in front of him. "You want it or not?"

The kid came closer to me and then reached out and yanked it from my hands and ran.

"Don't spend it on candy," I shouted, then added. "Or booze!"

I felt good after that. At least the kid would have something to eat. If he was smart he could make it last a day or two. I went home to my apartment and sat on the couch and watched TV for the rest of the night. I fell asleep watching Conan O'brian.

I took off early from work the next day too. I wont tell you how much I made, it would just make you mad. That's the problem with money, too many stupid people have it and don't know how to hold on to it.

"No, Bill, I can't call you back," I would say, "We only have five packages left. They're on a first come first serve basis. I understand you want to talk to your wife, but lets be honest for a second, what do you think you're wife's going to say when she hears you turned down a chance to spend a weekend in Vegas for one-hundred and fifty dollars?"

I'm not going to mince words here. I'm not a nice guy. If you think I am, you're a moron. If you got money, I'm going to do everything I can to get that money. Now to say what I'm doing is illegal, well that's not true. Everything I do is taped, it has to be to cover our asses, the only thing is I know every way in the book to get your money. Twice a week I sit down and learn something new from one of the guys in the room.

That one-hundred and fifty dollars Bill just spent on a vacation, I get twenty-five dollars from that sale. That might not seem impressive, but I've sold five in an hour. This package we're working now, it's not that great. If I get a three hundred or four hundred dollar package, I can make as much as fifty to seventy-five dollars a sale. You do the math.

There's a reason I haven't worked full time in ten years. I'm very good at what I do. I know who has the money and who doesn't, who's going to buy and who wont. I know by the way they talk, the words they use. You learn to pick up on tone and inflection, when someone starts talking slower or faster. If someone's not talking fast, they're thinking, if they're talking fast, they think they got the answer. Me, I always know how fast I'm talking. I've memorized my script.

The little man is there again, he aint sleeping this time, he's standing in the shadows watching me sitting on the bench. I motion for him to come over, he waits for a few seconds, then crosses the street.

"What's up?" I ask him as he steps on to the sidewalk.

"Nothing much," he said.

"You broke?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I've got five bucks left."

"What did you spend fifteen dollars on?" I asked.

He looked at me worried that he wasn't going to get anymore money. I knew what he wanted and I didn't fault him for it. I was a cow, and as long as he didn't have to milk me for his money, I was going to be a golden cow.

"Just food," he said, "I didn't buy any candy or beer."

I smiled and said, "Well I'm happy to hear that."

"I just wanted to say thanks," he said. "and…"

"I can give you ten," I said. "But you're going to have to figure out how you're going to survive out here on your own eventually."

"I got ideas," he said.

I almost laughed at that, but I didn't. Ideas were better than nothing I guess.

"You know kid," I said. "I don't like to see you out here. Why don't you come spend the night at my place? My couch pulls out, you can get a good nights rest, spend some time thinking about what you want to do."

"I'm okay," he said. "I've got someplace to stay."

I didn't tell the kid that I'd dreamed about him last night, that some wino had stumbled across him and stabbed him for the ten dollars in his pocket. I just stared at him and shook my head.

"Do you smoke," I asked.

"No," he said.

"Good," I said. "You can stay at my place 'til you find someplace else to stay."

"I've got someplace," he said, getting nervous.

"I'm glad to hear that," I said, then asked, "can you read?"

"Yeah," he said, looking at me like that was the dumbest question he'd ever heard. "I can read."

I wrote down my address on the back of a piece of paper and handed it to him, before he could grab it I pulled my hand back and started to write my phone number, then handed it back to him with a ten dollar bill. He'd remember that piece of paper now, because I had taken the time to write down, not just my address, but my phone number as well.

"Here," I said. "I'm not giving you any more money. I got food at my apartment you can eat. I aint going to make you do nothing you don't want to do, but you keep staying out here and bad things are going to happen."

"I can take care of myself," the boy said.

"What's your name," I asked.

He looked at me, wondering whether or not he should tell me. He had his hands in his pockets now, and I wondered if he would even be able to take his pants off without cutting them loose with some scissors, they looked so grimy.

"You don't have to tell me," I said, leaning back on the bench. "My name's Luke."

"Ricky," he said. "But everyone calls me Bandit."

I laughed, and the kid blushed.

"I'm not laughing at your name," I said to him. "I think it's cool."

"I've got someplace to stay," the boy said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince me.

"Anyone feel you up yet?" I asked.

He blanched and began to shift from foot to foot. He looked around to see if anyone was watching or listening.

"No," he said.

"They will," I said. "Then they'll try to get you to do stuff for them. I aint going to ruin the surprise for you, but it wont be fun."

"I've got friends," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "The kids you bought food for yesterday weren't your friends, they just wanted food."

"You don't know them," he said in an angry voice.

"Nah," I said. "I don't know anything and you know everything, right?"

He looked at me frowning, not really liking where the conversation was going.

"Well I've done what I can," I said. "You know, I'd hate to see anything happen to you, that'd keep me up at night. I hope you're a smart kid. I hope you really have someplace safe to stay."

"I do," he said, looking at his feet.

"Good," I said, standing up. "But if things don't turn out like you expected, come to my place or give me a call."

He stepped back and watched me. I smiled and walked away.

"I'll be okay," he said.

"Good to know," I said.

I sat on my couch hoping the kid would call. He didn't. I waited up 'til two in the morning. I don't know why the kid bothered me so much. I tried not to have any thoughts about the kid, even though he was more than tasty by my standards, but it was hard. He was a cute kid. I was a cute kid too. My looks helped keep me fed. I didn't have to wait long if I was looking for a john. I never turned down a shower neither. I learned quick Johns didn't like filthy boys that smelled like piss or cum. If you were clean, it kept the cops away too, at least until they started to recognize you.

Crow sells pot now. He lives two blocks from my apartment. He keeps trying to get me to come over, but I can't stand the stuff anymore, kills my sinuses. I'm thinking of buying some, though, enough to loosen up Bandit. I can't help but think of ways to get in his pants. I keep thinking, someone else is going to get in there eventually, why can't I be the first, then I start hating myself for thinking about using him like that. He's such a cute kid, it's a shame he had to end up out there.

It takes me a couple of hours before I fall asleep. Damn kid. I'm almost asleep and I hear a siren go by and I worry someone's gotten to Bandit, done something to him. Who calls a kid Bandit? That's what you call your dog or a car, not a little boy. It was a cute name though.

I woke up at five in the morning to someone pounding on my door. I looked through the peep hole and saw him. He was scared and crying. I opened the door and pulled him in before he could run away.

"What's the matter buddy?" I said, as he pulled away from me and stepped back into the living room.

"Nothing," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"You can tell me," I said.

"Nothing's the matter," he said, looking at me.

I could tell now his shirt was torn. I could see his little pink nipple through the big gaping hole.

"Did someone hurt you?" I asked.

"They took my money," he said, starting to sob.

"Don't worry about the money," I said. "I can give you more money buddy. I just want to make sure you're alright. They didn't do anything else did they?"

"One of them punched me in the stomach," he said, pulling up his shirt to show me a small bruise on his smooth pale stomach.

"Ouch," I said. "That looks like it hurts. He must have been a big guy."

Bandit nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"Well you wont have to worry about that tonight okay," I said. "Are you hungry?"

He nodded and looked at me, so small and frail. His arms were thin. I wanted to hold him, to tell him that everything would be okay, but I knew this kid probably didn't want to be held.

"Okay," I said pointing to the kitchen table, "Why don't you have a seat and I'll make you something to eat."

He walked over to the table and sat down. I pulled out a frying pan and turned on the stove.

"Do you want some eggs?" I asked, I wasn't the best cook in the world.

"Okay," he said, looking around my apartment.

"I've got something for you in the bedroom," I said as I cracked a couple eggs and let them drop in the pan.

He gave me a worried look and I smiled and said, "Clothes. I bought you some clothes."

"But you don't know what size I wear," he said.

"Well lets hope they fit then," I said.

I went into my bedroom and dug out a package of t-shirts I had bought for the kid. I came out and tossed them to him. he sat at the kitchen table staring at the t-shirts smiling. I didn't think buying them a bit big was going to be a big deal, most of the kids seemed to like them that way anyways.

"After you eat you can use my bathroom to take a bath," I said.

He looked at me, the look of a boy who knew what happened in bathrooms.

"Lock the door while you're in there," I said. "I told you, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

I had bought the kid some other clothes as well, in assorted sizes. It sounds corny, but it was worth it just to see the kid smile. I'd only seen him twice, but in that time I didn't think the kid was capable of smiling, watching him in the living room sorting through the different bags of clothes, well it did something to me. I don't mean I wanted the kid, at least not in that way, instead I wanted the kid to be happy.

I knew I couldn't keep him, that was impossible, but I hoped there was a way to keep him from having to go back on the streets. Maybe help him find someplace better to stay. At that moment though I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mine as I saw him pull his dirty t-shirt off, exposing his pale white chest and small pink nipples. He looked at me, oblivious to the effect he was having.

"Why don't you take the clothes with you to the bathroom," I said, "That way you can get dressed right after you're done washing up."

"Okay," he said, flashing me that knowing look once again.

"I'll stay out here," I said.

"I'm not worried," he said.

"Good," I said.

I heard him in the bathroom filling the tub with water. I could hear something else too, he was humming. He had a beautiful little soprano voice. I sat on my bed for awhile, waiting for him to come out. He was in there a long time before he finally appeared in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He was dressed for bed.

"Hi," I said. "Did you enjoy your bath?"

"Yeah," he said. "It was nice."

"Good," I said, looking at him. "Now that your hairs washed, I should check you for lice before you sleep on the couch."

"What do you mean?" He asked. "I don't have lice."

"You never know," I said. "When I was on the streets I got lice more times than I could count."

"You were on the streets?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I ran away when I was just a little older than you. My father, well we just didn't get along."

"My mom threw me out," he said as he followed me out to the kitchen, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

"Why would she do that?" I asked, running my fingers through his hair, checking his scalp for nasty little bugs.

"I don't know," he said, in that voice kids make when they're trying to hide something from you.

"Well it looks like you're clean," I said, "no lice here."

"Thanks," he said, looking up at me.

"Don't mention it," I said.

He looked at me feeling suddenly uncomfortable with me standing so close to him. I moved over to the stove and picked up the frying pan and put it in the sink.

"Well I'm going to go to sleep," I said, then asked. "You want me to pull the couch out or do you want to sleep on it like it is?"

"I can sleep on it like that," he said.

"Okay," I said walking to my hall closet and pulling out a blanket and an extra pillow. I laid them down on the couch and stood in my doorway, watching him for a second.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," I said. "Get some sleep, it's late."

I tried to sleep but I couldn't. Having the kid in the other room was almost as bad as having him out on the street. I imagined him in the bathtub naked, his body glistening with water. I wondered if he was circumcised. I woke up the next morning, the sun streaming through my window. I walked out into the living room, expecting the kid to be gone, but Bandit was sleeping on the couch, his t-shirt pulled up exposing his belly, his mouth open, a small line of drool running from the corner, and an obvious morning boner, the tip of his little penis poking out through the hole in his boxers. He was circumcised and probably no bigger than my thumb. I went over and covered the kid, knowing I would probably end up burning down the kitchen if I had that to stare at that all morning. He shifted a bit and then settled down.

He looked completely different clean, like any other kid from middle class America. I made pancakes, thinking the kid probably liked them. I looked over and saw him awake, he rubbed his eyes, trying to remember where he was at.

"Morning," I said. "You want some pancakes?"

He nodded and shifted underneath the blankets. I knew he felt his little morning woody and was wondering how he was going to get past me with it still so stiff.

"Well why don't you wash up in the bathroom," I said, turning my back to him as I flipped the pancakes. "This batch is almost done."

I heard him move from behind me. I turned to watch as he walked into the bathroom, his little fingers fidgeting trying to hide his stiff little member. A few minutes later he came out and walked to the kitchen table and sat down. I put a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He dove right in. I smiled, admiring the kids appetite.

"They any good?" I asked.

He nodded and said, "Yeah, thanks."

"Good," I said. "I'm not going to work today. I thought I'd stay here. I want to talk to you."

"What about?" He asked.

"I guess about what you want to do," I said.

He looked at me with those deep green eyes, puzzled, I could tell, wondering what I wanted with him. I'm sure if he didn't learn about sex from some man back at his old home, which most kids on the street have, then he learned about it at school. Kids knew more about that stuff than they used to. I blame the internet.

"Why are you being so nice?" He asked.

I wondered how I could explain it to him, then I said, "stay here and I'll show you."

I left and went in to my bedroom and looked through my old wallet. I dug out a picture and went back out and handed it to him. He looked at it and then me.

"Is that you?" He asked.

"Yep," I said. "Two weeks before I ran away."

"You look young," He said, looking at me again and then the picture.

"I was young," I said. "It was about a month after my eleventh birthday."

"Why did you run away?" He asked.

"Why did you run away?" I countered.

"I told you," he said. "My mom threw me out."

"You never told me why," I said.

"I can't tell you," he said.

"Why not?" I said. "Are you afraid I'll tell someone?"

"No," he said. "It's just, well, you wont like me if I tell you."

"Well," I said. "Did you beat up an old lady and steal her change purse?"

"No," he said.

"Did you throw some kittens into traffic?" I asked.

"No," he said, fidgeting.

"Did you set your house on fire?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Well I'm running out of guesses," I said. "But I can guarantee I wont hate you if you tell me."

"You promise not to tell?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I promise."

"I flushed her stuff down the toilet," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "What stuff?"

"Her drugs," he said. "I didn't want her taking them any more, so I flushed them down the toilet."

"She kicked you out for flushing her drugs?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, staring at the half eaten pancakes on his plate.

"Why would I hate you for that?" I asked.

"Because my mom does drugs," he said.

"Kid," I said. "My mom did drugs too. I don't hate you for that."

"Really?" He asked.

"Don't you have anyone else you can stay with?" I asked.

He shook his head and started to eat again.

"What about your father?" I asked.

"I don't know where he is," Bandit said.

"No uncles or aunts?" I asked.

"Nope," he said.

"Crap," I said. "Well that really sucks."

He nodded and glanced at me, I could tell he was thinking about something.

"What's on your mind kid?" I said.

"Are you going to do stuff to me?" He asked, suddenly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, getting nervous.

"This kid, Jason," the boy said, "he told me that you wanted to do stuff."

"He did, did he?" I asked.

He nodded, looking at me, wondering if I was going to get upset.

"No, I'm not going to do anything to you," I said. "Not unless you want to do something."

"You want to though?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I wont lie to you, but I like you kid. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Do you like me because I look like you did?" He asked.

"I like you because your a sweet kid and you don't deserve to be on the streets," I said.

"But you still want to do stuff," he said.

"I'd be lying if I told you different," I said.

"I don't want to do that stuff," He said.

"I know," I said. "Most boys don't."

"So you wont make me?" He asked.

"I told you already," I said. "No."

"Okay," he said, as if he was in deep thought.

"What's your last name kid?" I asked.

"Solomon," he said, too quick to be a lie.

"Cool," I said.

"What's your last name," he asked.

"Skywalker," I said smiling.

"No it's not," He said, laughing.

"Alden," I said, smiling. "Luke Alden."

"Cool," he said. "Can I stay here tonight too?"

"Sure," I said. "You can stay as long as you need to."

He smiled at me and looked at the TV and X-Box. I rolled my eyes and jerked my head towards it.

"Do you have Guitar Hero?" He asked.

"One, two, and three," I said, it was actually one of my favorite games.

Most people hear I'm a boy lover and automatically assume I have video games so I can entice kids into my home. If you think that, you're stupid. Kids don't walk off with strangers anymore, especially not to play video games. Every kid in America knows about stranger danger and most kids have there own video games. I have video games because I love to play them. They say it keeps you sharp, helps you to think quick. I believe them. Besides it's fun and helps me burn off all the stress and anxiety I get from just living.

Sometimes I think about the past, it's not like I'm trying to, it just comes to me. Like a few days ago I remember being in a store downtown shoplifting some sandwiches and this Indian guy from behind the counter catches me. He thinks the other kid in the store is with me, so he hits him with a baseball bat in the stomach. The kid was maybe fourteen or fifteen, he drops like a rock.

Almost on queue this woman walks in and starts screaming, "Roger! Roger! What have you done to Roger!"

I guess it was her son. I could see this thin line of blood running from the kids mouth and I thought, he killed the kid because I stole a sandwich. That kid was dead, because I stole a sandwich. I don't know what happened to him. I ran before the Indian guy could get me.

Bandit's oblivious to the world. He's lost in another world. He didn't even bother to sit in the chair I have set up to play games. He's sitting with his legs crossed, five feet from the TV. I can hear his little fingers bashing the buttons.

"Don't copy over any of my saves," I tell him.

"I wont," He replied.

At around noon I tell him he should get dressed, he gives me this little smirk, but does it, pulls on a pair of shorts and then some socks. I smile, he looks very cute in the clothes I bought him. I make him a grilled cheese sandwich with ham. He eats it and asks for another. I make him a second one and he eats that one too, apparently full, then he returns to his game. At three he turns off the game and turns the TV on. He knows all the channels and I realize he's from the city.

"What's your Dad's first name?" I ask him.

"Why?" He asked.

"I was going to try and find him," I said. "See if you can stay with him."

"I don't want to stay with him," the boy said, not taking his eyes from his Pokemon cartoon.

"Did he do something to you?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I just don't know him."

"You don't know me either," I said. "But you're staying in my house."

"Yeah," he said. "But you're different."

"Why am I different," I asked.

"'Cause you want me here," he said.

"Well maybe your Dad wants you to stay with him," I said.

"He doesn't," the boy said, like it was a matter of fact.

"We wont know for sure unless we ask him," I said.

"He doesn't," Bandit said.

"Well tell me his name and I'll be able to find out," I said.

"Gilbert," the boy said.

It took me less than an hour to find his father. There was only one Gilbert Solomon in the city. I called the number and a man answered.

"Gilbert Solomon," I asked.

"May I ask who's calling," the man asked.

"My name's Luke," I said. "I found your son, at least I think he's your son, on the street."

"Bobby?" He said. "Bobby's playing in the backyard, I can see him now."

"No, sir," I said. "Ricky. I found Ricky."

There was a moment of silence and then the man asked in a quiet voice, "Is he alright."

"Yeah," I said, "But he was on the street for, I don't know how long."

"Are you his caseworker," the man asked.

"No," I said. "He didn't want to to go to the police, I thought he'd run away again, so I've been taking care of him."

"Don't hurt my boy," he said, his paternal instincts kicking in.

"I'm not going to hurt him," I said. "In fact I'm calling you to make sure no one hurts him."

"You have to call his mother," he said. "She has custody of him."

"His mother kicked him out," I said. "She wont let him come back."

"What?" He asked. "Why did she do that?"

"He said he dumped her drugs in the toilet," I said.

There was another moment of silence, I waited patiently, letting him digest everything that I'd said.

"God," he said. "I didn't know she was taking drugs."

"I'm sure you didn't sir," I said. "But right now, your little boy needs you."

"He's not my boy," the man said. "She was pregnant when I met her. We only named him Solomon so he wouldn't be a bastard."

"What are you saying?" I asked.

"He's not my son," the man said. "I can't do anything for him. I have my own family to worry about. I was a dumb kid when I met his mother. I can't be responsible for her mistake."

"Look fuck head," I said. "He's not a mistake. I can't believe I'm hearing this shit."

"You don't understand," he said. "My wife doesn't know anything about her. She doesn't know anything about him. No, I can't do this. Don't call here again. I wish I could help, but I can't."

The man hung up the phone. I tried to call him a couple more times, but it went to voicemail. I went out and saw Ricky lounging back in my gaming chair, watching the TV, completely vegged out.

"Do you want Pizza for dinner?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, in an excited voice. "That would cool."

I got up to check on Ricky that night and he was sleeping again, the covers pulled away from his body. This time his little stiffy was poking completely through the hole in his boxers. It was long and slender, with a slight curve, it looked impossibly stiff. I knew by the way the kid was breathing that he wasn't asleep, that he was showing himself to me. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over his body, covering him up. Dumb kid, I thought, doesn't even know what he's doing.

I walked back to my room and went to sleep. The next morning I woke up and he was covered up. I smiled, hoping he got the message. I wanted the kid, I did, but something inside of me said, 'that's you laying there on that couch, are you really going to try and fuck yourself over?'

I filled two bowls with cereal and milk and placed them on the table. I went over to Ricky and shook his shoulder. He jumped.

"Sorry," I said, "Breakfast is ready."

He looked at me, still drowsy, and I smiled.

"Didn't sleep well?" I asked.

"You snore," he said.

"I do?" I said.

"Sometimes," he said. "You woke me up last night."

"Shit," I said. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay," he said. "I don't mind."

"Well breakfast is ready," I said. "You should go wash up."

He looked at me, standing over him, wondering how he was going to hide his stiffy. I thought it was hilarious that he had flaunted his little rod last night and now he didn't want me to see the bulge in his boxers. I turned my back to him.

"Go on," I said. "I'm not looking."

I heard the bedroom door open and I saw his cute little boxer clad butt run inside to the bathroom. We sat at the kitchen table and talked about video games. He was happy to let me know that he had cleared Guitar Hero III on hard. I knew he was aware that I had only made it through medium. He smiled and ate his cereal happily.

"I have to go to work today," I said. "I missed yesterday, can't miss two days in a row, looks bad."

He nodded.

"I would like it if you stayed inside," I said. "So I know you're safe, but you're not my kid, I know that, so if you want to leave while I'm gone, you can. I just wish you wouldn't."

"I'll stay here," he said. "What can I have for lunch?"

"Do you know how to use a microwave," I asked.

He rolled his eyes, and said, "yeah I can use a microwave."

"Well there's some burritos in the freezer," I said. "Why don't you have a few of them. There's sour cream and salsa in the fridge too, you can put that on top."

"Okay," he said, watching me gather my things up.

"You'll be here when I get back," I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I promise."

I smiled and said, "Good."

It was hard for me to concentrate at work. I had a bad day. I left at two and headed home, expecting to find Ricky and the things I'd bought him gone, but instead he was sitting in the chair watching Pokemon.

"Hi," I said. "How was your day?"

"Good," he said. "Someone knocked on the door, but I didn't answer it."

"Smart thinking," I said. "Did you see who it was?"

"Some man," he said. "He looked like a Mormon."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Was he dressed in a suit?"

"Yeah," he said. "And he had a backpack."

"Charlie," I said. "That must have been Charlie."

"Who's Charlie?" he asked.

"One of my old roommates," I said.

"You think he wants to move in again," Bandit asked, sounding worried.

"I've got you as a roommate," I said, "there's no room for him."

The kid smiled and I smiled too. As I passed by I messed up his hair and he looked at me in mock anger.

I called Charlie to see what he wanted. Charlie told me that he and Miguel had split up, well he actually said he'd moved out. I think they were the only two people in their lives that didn't realize they were a couple. He said that he and his brother Calvin were moving into the city and asked if I wanted to come over on Saturday for a house warming party. I told him that sounded like fun, but I was busy on Saturday.

"I can take care of myself," Ricky said. "You can go."

I looked at him, for a second, then said, "I wish I could go, but I already made plans to spend the day with someone else. I'm really sorry. I wish you guys had told me sooner."

When I hung up the phone, Ricky was looking at me, with this curious expression.

"They'll get over it," I said. "Besides if I went to their party, we wouldn't be able to go to the beach tomorrow."

"We're going to the beach?" Ricky asked nearly jumping out of his chair.

"Yeah," I said. "I thought it might be fun. Do you want to go?"

"Yeah," he said. "Can I go swimming?"

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Cool!" He said, smiling at me.

For the rest of the night he kept asking me questions about the beach. I knew I'd made the right decision, but I also knew that I had to figure out what to do with Ricky soon, he couldn't stay with me forever, even if I wanted him to.

The next morning I got my car out of the garage and picked up Ricky in front of the building. I bought him a pay as you go cellphone, which he was very proud of. It wasn't an expensive phone, but it was his and that made him happy.

We drove to the shore and he was quiet along the way. He was wearing a pair of speedos under his shorts. They were a bit snug, but he didn't seem to mind. I parked at the end of the beach, because there were fewer people around. I carried a cooler with lunch and some drinks in it, he carried a blanket and a few towels.

The sun was out and it was hot. The perfect day for the beach. I got some sunscreen out and tossed it to him. He stepped out of his shorts and stood there in just his speedos. I looked at him admiring his body. He caught me looking and blushed.

"You're a very cute kid," I said. "You don't have to be embarrassed."

"I don't want people looking at me funny," he said.

"Don't worry about it," I said, "I'm right here. No one's going to bother you."

I helped him rub lotion on his back, which made him squirm a bit, then had him rub it on my back, so he would know it was just a part of coming to the beach. He sat with me for awhile on the blanket, watching the water.

"Aren't you going to go swimming?" I asked.

He looked at me, then the water, and said, "I don't feel like it."

"What are you talking about," I said. "I thought that's the reason you wanted to come."

"No," he said. "I wanted to come because I've never been to the beach before."

"You've never been to the beach," I asked, not sure I'd heard him right.

"No," he said. "My mom never took me."

"Well," I said. "Do you know how to swim?"

He looked at me and shook his head, 'no'.

"Hmm," I said. "Well I guess today you learn how."

"What do you mean," He asked.

"I know how to swim," I said. "I can teach you."

"Really," he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "It'll be fun."

We walked down to the water and I went in 'til the water was about waste deep. He waited looking around to see if anyone was watching, but there was only an older couple nearby and they were lounging on chairs underneath an umbrella.

"Come on," I said. "No one's watching."

He walked into the water for the first time and looked at me smiling, then this serious look crossed his face.

"What if the tide gets me," he asked. "Or a shark?"

"I've been swimming here for twenty years and I've never seen a shark," I said, "and besides I'm right here, the tide isn't going to get you."

That seemed to ease his fears, he walked out to me and I held my hand out and he grabbed it and held onto it tightly.

"First thing you need to do," I said, "is learn to float."

"Float?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I want you to float on your back. I'll hold you up so you wont go under."

"How do I float," he asked, still nervous.

"Lean back," I said. "I'll hold you up, don't worry."

He looked at me, but did what I asked. I put my hands under his shoulder and bottom and held him up. He squirmed a little, looking at me, I'm sure wondering if I was trying to cop a feel.

"Quit worrying," I said as he looked up at me, his dark hair wet now.

He lay there looking up at me, still tense.

"You need to relax," I said. "Just let your muscles go loose."

"You wont let me go?" He asked.

"I promise little man," I said. "I wont let you go until you're ready."

I could feel him relax, the weight of his body suddenly leaving as the water took over.

"That's the way," I said as I slowly took my hand away from his bottom and showed it to him. "See you're floating."

He looked up at me, still frightened, but at the same time excited.

"I'm going to take the other hand away," I said, "but I'm right here, so don't worry, okay?"

He nodded, closing his eyes absorbed in the moment. I took my hand off his shoulder and watched him floating beneath me. He was such a small beautiful child. I wondered how anyone couldn't want him.

"You're floating," I said in an excited voice. "How does it feel?"

"Good," he said. "It feels really good."

"Now that wasn't so bad was it?" I asked.

He shook his head and for a second started to go under, I grabbed him and held him up. He looked up me with this shocked look on his face.

"If you tense up you're going to sink," I said. "You got to relax."

Once he relaxed again I let him go and he just floated there. He was catching on quick. In an hour I had him doing a doggy paddle as I held one hand beneath him under his stomach in case he started to sink. I walked around with him as he continued to paddle around, I kept telling him to kick his legs, but he was lazy in that department, so he was struggling a bit more than he had to.

At lunch we got out and he sat on the blanket, his towel wrapped around his shoulders. I put some more lotion on him and he put some on my back as well. He seemed much more at ease.

"How do you like the beach?" I asked.

"It's fun," he said. "I hope I get to come here again."

"Of course you will," I said.

"But," he said, a frown coming over his face.

"What's the matter buddy," I said, brushing his bangs from his eyes.

"I can't stay with you forever," he said.

"Well you'll stay with me 'til you have a place to stay," I said. "Someplace where there'll be adults to take care of you."

"Really," he asked.

"Have I lied to you yet?" I asked.

He shook his head, no.

"Then don't worry about that," I said.

On the drive back from the beach he was quiet, I looked at him and could tell he was feeling down. I felt bad for the kid, knowing how frightened he must be, how uncertain everything seemed. I dropped him off in front of the apartment and he carried up the empty cooler and towels. I worried every time I left him alone that he'd be gone when I got back, but I didn't need to worry. When I entered the apartment I heard him call out from the bathroom.

"I need a towel," he said. "I forgot to get one and I'm all wet."

"Alright," I said, trying to fight back the urges that surged through my mind.

I had just watched the kid all day in a speedo, and the chance to see him naked, even though I had already seen his little rod twice, was almost overwhelming.

"You covered up?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

I walked in side to see him standing in the tub, his hands cupping his package, he looked at me and blushed, then reached out for the towel, exposing his stiff little rod to me.

"Why are you doing that?" I asked.

"What do you mean," he said, feigning innocence.

"Showing me your penis," I asked.

"I thought you wanted to see it," he said in a worried voice.

"I do," I said, standing there, even now he hadn't covered it, "but that doesn't mean you have to show me it."

"I want to," he said.

"Oh buddy," I said, "you don't know what you want."

He looked at me and gripped his small circumcised rod in between his thumb and fingers. "Don't you like to look at me?" He said.

"You know I do," I said, "but I'm afraid if you show me it, I wont be able to stop myself. I might want to touch it."

"I know you want to touch it," he said. "I could see you when I was swimming."

"What do you mean," I asked, staring at him as he stroked his little rod.

"You had a woody," he said.

"I'm sorry about that," I said.

"It's okay," he said. "I know why you got it. I'm not scared."

"I don't want us to be like that," I said. "I like you, a lot, and I don't want you to think I only like you because I want your body."

"I don't," he said. "I know you wouldn't touch me if I didn't want you to."

"I could get in a lot of trouble just for looking at you now," I said.

"I wont tell," he said. "I like you."

"You don't like me," I said. "You need me."

"I don't need you," he said, too young to realize the truth, "I like to be with you. You're the nicest man I've ever met."

"You don't know me kid," I said.

"I want to make you happy," he said, still stroking his little rod. "You can touch it if you want."

"Why don't you get dressed and we'll talk about this later," I said, turning away and closing the bathroom door.

He came out in his boxer with no shirt on. I was sitting on the couch and he sat next to me, placing his head on my shoulder.

"I really do like you," he said. "I wish I could stay with you forever."

"I know," I said, putting my arm around him, feeling his still damp skin against my arm.

"I'm sorry I teased you," he said.

"It's okay," I said, "but I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."

"But I do," he said. "I know what sex is. I want to do it."

"You don't need to do it with me," I said. "You can do it by yourself or find some little friend to have fun with."

"But I want to do it with you," he said. "I want to see what yours looks like."

"Well," I said. "That's all good, but I don't want to show you."

"Do you want to see mine again?" He asked.

"Jesus," I said, standing up. "Why don't you just jerk off, that'll make you feel better."

"What do you mean," he said.

"I thought you said you knew about sex," I asked.

"I know where baby's come from," he said, "and I know what sperm is for."

"Didn't you take sex ed," I asked.

"My mom wouldn't let me," he said. "My friends told me about it though, I know about sex."

"Well if you don't know about jerking off," I said, "then you don't know about sex."

"That's where you pull on it, right," he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "You don't jerk off?"

"I don't know how," he said. "I've tried but nothing happens, I just feel like I'm going to pee."

"Oh God," I said, my dick stiffening in my pants. "If I tell you how, will you leave me alone tonight."

He nodded and then before I could stop him, pulled his boxers down showing me his still stiff little prick.

"I'm going to tell you," I said. "I don't need to see it to tell you."

"I want to make sure I'm doing it right," he said. "You can watch me in case I'm doing something wrong."

"Fuck," I said, swearing for the first time in front of the kid. "Okay, but after this you need to leave me alone."

I walked over and checked the drapes to make sure all the windows were covered. I looked at him, not believing that I was going to do this.

"Stay here," I said as I left and went to the drawer next to my bed and pulled out a bottle of lube, lust taking hold of me.

When I came back he was leaning back on the couch, completely naked, stroking his penis up and down slowly, looking at it. When he saw me, he blushed a little and I saw he was finally getting a bit self conscious.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," I said.

"I want to," he said.

I held the bottle of lube over his penis and watched as a small stream of the clear fluid dripped down on to the head of his small cock.

"Rub that in," I said.

He took his fingers and started to smear it over his cock until it was shiny.

"Take your hand and wrap it around you penis," I said, watching him as he gripped it in his little fist, 'til only the head was showing from the top. "Now move your hand up and down."

He started to move it up and down and looked at me with a serious expression.

"Like that," he asked.

"Yep," I said, "just like that. You can do it faster or slower, it all depends on what feels good."

"How do you do it," He asked.

"I start off slow 'til it starts to feel good," I said, feeling my excitement pressing against my trunks, "then I speed up."

He nodded, obviously thinking that made sense. I watched him as he stroked his little penis, concentrating on what was happening.

"I don't feel anything," he said, looking at me.

"Keep doing it," I said.

"You do it," he said. "Show me how you do it."

"Jesus," I said, then finally giving up the fight I sat down next to him, then reached over and took his little rod in my hand.

It was so stiff and soft at the same time. I moved my fingers up and down, knowing it can take awhile for a little boy to cum. I felt him place his hand on my leg and he looked at me for a second smiling, then looked back down at his penis.

"You feel anything?" I asked.

"If feels good," he said, shifting to let me have more access to his body.

"You think you can do it now?" I asked, worrying about where this was going.

"You make it feel better than me," he said, not a hint of guilt in his voice.

I continued to stroke it, feeling my hand slide over the smooth skin. I ran my thumb over the tiny pink head and he moaned.

"That feels really good," he said.

"I'm glad," I said, gradually speeding up my strokes.

I watched as he started to squirm under my firm grip. I stroked his leg with my hand as I continued to move my fingers up and down the length of his little dick, occasionally finding a drop of clear boy juice at the top. I would take a break and smear the juice around, then start to stroke him again, stroking him faster, then when I thought he was getting close, slowing down.

"Oh," he said, "I feel something."

"You're starting to feel your orgasm," I said, looking down at his stomach as it started to flex in and out. He squirmed beneath my grip, he placed his hand on my wrist and I pulled away.

"Don't stop," he said.

I started to stroke him again and he moaned, more vocal than I thought he'd be. I slowed down teasing him and he started to lift his hips up into the air to try to get me to go faster. I smiled.

"Oh god," he said, the muscles on his neck tensing as he looked at his penis, not sure what was going to happen, "it feels really funny."

"Just go with it," I said.

"Oh," he said, one hand rubbing his stomach, the other holding my wrist, making sure I wasn't going to let go.

He cried out and a splash of clear fluid shot out of his cock and landed on my hand, I continued to stroke him as more dribbled out, smearing over the tip of his dick and my fingers, finally he put his hands on top of mine to stop me. I took my hands away and looked at him. He was staring at his penis.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"It was funny," he said. "I didn't think it could do that. Did I have sperm?"

I licked the fluids on my finger, it was just the clear fluid from the kids prostate, no sperm.

"You're shooting," I said, "there's no sperm yet though, that'll come when you start to get hair."

"It felt really good," he said smiling, then in an excited voice asked, "can we do it again?"

"You can do it again," I said. "I have to make dinner."

"Aww," he said. "I can't make it feel like that."

"Sure you can," I said, licking some more of his juice off his finger.

"Why are you eating it," he asked, looking at me like I was crazy.

"Because I like the taste," I said.

He looked at me then smeared some of the fluid from his piss slit onto his finger tip and licked it off. He shrugged, obviously unimpressed.

He came two more times while I was cooking. I kept looking at him, wondering if he was going to suddenly be filled with guilt, but he wasn't, I guess I was the only one filled with that emotion. When I finally set the plate, his hand was slimy and his dick was coated in a froth of lube and boy juice.

"Okay," I said in firm voice. "Time to take a break. Go wash up and we'll have dinner."

He looked at me, almost pouting, but walked into the bathroom, completely naked and cleaned up. When he came out he didn't even bother to put his boxers on as he walked to the table, I thought about telling him to get dressed, but just let him go.

I sat there, my cock almost hurt, swollen bigger than I thought it had been in awhile. After I cleaned the table I looked at him one last time, trying to get the image of his naked body imprinted in my memory.

"I'm going to go take a nap," I said. "Why don't you watch some TV or something."

"Okay," he said. "Thanks… well thanks for doing that."

"Are you alright with it," I said.

"Yeah," he said in a cheerful voice. "I wish I had learned to do it sooner, it feels great."

"Well I'm glad," I said. "You know you can't tell anyone."

"You mean I can't tell my teachers that the man I'm staying with jerked me off," he said in mock surprise.

I just sighed and stood up, his gaze was locked on the lump pushing out in front of me, I didn't try to hide it, hoping the size might scare him away from trying anything else. I knew kids his age were selfish by nature, so I wasn't too worried that he was going to offer to do me, I was more worried that curiosity would get the better of him.

I grabbed the lube off the counter and went in my bedroom and closed the door. I started to undress, thinking about taking a shower, but instead I thought the smart thing would be to relieve the pressure on my balls and libido.

I laid down on my bed and lubed my cock up, getting it slick. I didn't notice the door was opened a crack until I had already started stroking and by then I wasn't going to stop. I saw his little eye peaking through the crack, watching me and despite my better judgment decided to take it one step further.

"You can come in and watch," I said. "I watched you, I guess you watching me wont be much worse."

There was a moment of silence, then the door opened slowly and I saw him standing there, still naked.

"Come on over," I said. "You can sit on the bed."

"Do I have to do you," he asked.

"No," I said. "You don't have to do me."

He walked over and sat near me, watching as I stroked my cock up and down.

"It's really big," he said, looking at me his eyes wide with wonder.

I was big, but not that big. I measured about seven and half inches [19 cm] long and about an inch and three quarters [4½ cm] wide. I was happy with my size.

He continued to watch me as I moved my hand up and down the length. I felt his hand on my leg as he leaned closer, a look of intense concentration on his face.

"Does it feel good," he asked.

"Yeah," I said, "really good."

"I'll do you if you want," he said.

"You don't have to," I said. "I liked doing you."

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "You look sexy when you cum."

He smiled and said, "You look sexy too."

He reached his hand out and I stopped stroking, instead I just held it up at the base. He wrapped his fingers tentatively around my stiff pole and looked at me. The feeling of his soft hand on my prick was almost unbearably good.

"Oh that's nice," I said, smiling, trying to make him feel comfortable.

"Should I stroke it," he asked.

"If you want," I said.

He began to move his hand up and down. I pulled mine away and watched him. He seemed mesmerized by what he was doing, looking from my cock to my face, to see what effect it had on me.

"That feels really good," I said, reaching out and stroking his side.

He smiled at me, tightening his grip. He started to stroke me faster and I knew after everything that had happened today I wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer.

"Are you going to have an orgasm," he asked.

"Soon," I said. "Do you want to stop, it might get messy."

He shook his head and continued to stroke me.

"Oh," I said. "I'm almost there, faster."

He sped up his strokes and I groaned as I felt the first spasm of cum surge through my cock and spit out into the air. He looked at it shocked by the volume, but never stopped stroking. Spurt after spurt of cum poured out my cock, coating my stomach and his hand. He kept stroking, even as I cried out. I closed my eyes as I felt my dick still throbbing in his hand trying to release cum that wasn't there anymore. I had to pull his hand away because my dick was so sensitive. I took a deep breath and looked at him.

"Did you have a good one?" He asked.

"It was great," I said. "You did a really good job."

He smiled and looked at his hand. I scooped up some cum from my stomach and slurped it off my fingers. I really didn't like the taste, but I wanted to see if I could get him to taste it. He watched me and without me asking moved his hand to his lips and licked some off of his thumb. He had this serious expression on his face as he looked at me, then took another taste.

"It's not bad," he said.

I smiled, knowing that bode well for our future together. He laid next to me as we took a nap, I stroked his chest and stomach and he smiled. He looked into my eyes without saying a word, and sighed, apparently quite content.

"Are you okay little buddy?" I asked, stroking his soft brown hair.

"Yeah," he said. "That was fun."

"I'm glad," I said.

"Can we do it again?" He asked.

I laughed, thinking I had created a monster, and said, "you keep going at this pace and you'll be so sore you wont be able to touch it for a week."

He looked at me and rolled his eyes again, something that I found quite cute. He fell asleep with his head on my chest. I smiled and rubbed his back softly. The guilt was gone now, I could see that the boy seemed to be fine with his new found skills.

I woke up shortly past midnight and Ricky was still sleeping next to me, his little mouth open, as he breathed slowly. I picked him up and took him to the living room, laying him down on the couch. I put a blanket over him and kissed him for the first time. I looked at him for awhile, wanting to hug him, but knowing that would just wake him up.

I went back to bed and fell asleep. When I woke up in the morning, I felt a weight on my leg and found Ricky back in bed with me. He was breathing softly, and he had a serious look on his face, obviously dreaming.

I got up and went to the kitchen and made breakfast, not bothering to get dressed. I heard him in the bathroom and he came out naked and tired, his little prick stiff, apparently the morning piss not quite fixing that problem.

"What's up sleepy head?" I asked.

"Why did you put me on the couch?" He asked.

"I thought you'd be more comfortable there," I said.

"I like sleeping in your bed," he said.

"Okay," I said. "You can sleep in there if you want, alright?"

He nodded. I watched as he yawned, his slim youthful naked body stretching taught. He sat at the table still naked and I wondered how long we were going to go before we finally resorted to wearing clothes. Like most boys, Luke was only as self-conscious about his body as others made him, since I was at ease with his nudity, so was he. He glanced at my cock half-hard and I thought I saw his tongue dart out past his lips. I didn't think anything of it.

After breakfast I took a bath and when I came out he was laying back on my bed, stroking his slick little rod.

He looked at me, his eyes just tiny slits, and moaned, "do me."

I laughed and crawled on the bed, taking his still prick in my fingers and stroking him, he looked down at it quite seriously, absorbed in the sensations. I continued to stroke him, enjoying the small pants the boy made as I brought him closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh yeah," he said, "I like that."

I smiled at his childish dirty talk and continued to hold his small dick in my fingers, stroking and wanting so much to put it in my mouth and suck it.

"Do you want to try something new," I asked, squeezing his penis gently in my hand.

"Like what," he asked, curious, but also nervous.

"Well," I said, "I could put it in my mouth and suck on it."

"A blowjob," he asked.

"Where did you learn about that," I asked.

"I told you my friends told me about sex," he said.

"Oh," I said, wondering what else the kid knew about.

"You can suck me," he said as if it was just a casual request.

I smiled and grabbed a towel, cleaning the lube from his little penis. I got down between his legs and leaned over to take him in my mouth. He watched me, moaning as he felt my breath on the head of his sensitive tip. He let out a deep gasp as my mouth encircled his stiff little member.

His hands went instinctively to my hair, holding on as if he was riding a horsey. He looked at me intensely, every once in awhile hissing as I lavished his sensitive tip with my tongue.

"That feels really good," he said, pushing his hips up so he could thrust more of his penis in my mouth.

I smiled, looking up at his beautiful little tummy and delicate pink nipples. I reached up and ran my fingers around one of them. He gave me a strange look, but didn't stop me. After awhile, he held my wrist, keeping my hand on his chest. I continued to rub his stomach and chest, occasionally tweaking his nipples. He seemed to like it.

It took him less than five minutes to come, I felt his whole body tense up as he pressed his tiny cocklet as far into my mouth as he could, his own mouth opened wide as he gasped, the first spurt of boy juice shooting across my tongue as his penis throbbed. Two more shots came out and then all that was left was a bit of dribble on the tip as it continued to throb. I kept up my assault until I felt him tug at my head.

"Oh," he said. "Stop. Stop."

I smiled as I looked down at him, he was watching me with this dreamy look on his face, like he still wasn't sure his body was doing what it was supposed to.

"Did you like it," I asked.

"Yeah," he said, "it was the best."

"Good," I said.

I sat on the couch watching Ricky playing his video games. I tried to play with him, but he was just too competitive, it was annoying after awhile. He was really comfortable being here now and I knew that I had to do something. I'm not going to lie, I had regrets about having sex with the kid, I knew it couldn't be undone and I worried if I was screwing the kid up. I wondered if he was going to grow up like me, so attracted to boys he put everything else on hold in his life. I'm not an ugly man, in fact I have a lot of women flirt with me, I'm not saying that to brag or make you think I'm some big man, it's just the truth. I never pursue them though, even though I still find women sexy.

When I see a young twenty-something chick with big breasts and a tight ass, I want to tap it as much as the next guy, it's just if I see that girl standing next to a young boy, I can't keep my eyes off of the boy. That's the reason I never had kids, I was always afraid what happened with Ricky would happen to them. I didn't want to be the father that went into his son's room every night and fondled him while the boy acted like he was asleep. Now I'm not saying that a boy and a man can't have sex and enjoy it or that it if the boy has sex with a man he's going to grow up a wierdo, I know the truth. I've read the papers, I studied psychology, and I know men who had sex as boy, but I also know about incest.

My brother fucked me almost every night from the time I was seven until I turned eleven and finally ran away. My mom caught us and she said it was just boys being boys. It didn't seem to matter he was nearly eight years older than me. My brother never gave me a choice, if he was horny, I had to do my duties. When I finally told my father he put us in separate rooms, but he started to call me a fag and he kept thinking I was trying to seduce him. Even that never stopped my brother he still did shit after that, only then I knew no one really cared. I finally got fed up and left. I was only eleven, but at least when I hit the street I got a choice where my life was going or at least I thought I did.

Turning tricks was never a hard decision for me, because I'd had sex enough times, it didn't really scare me. The hard part for me was figuring out all the little things that were big things out there. I learned quick to steer clear of the older kids, because half of them would try to fuck you as quick as any john and they didn't pay. Some of the kids on the street are worse than the johns.

I was a quick learner and I was brutal when I had to be. I nearly bit a kids finger off when he tried to steal my jacket. It was too small for him to wear, but he still wanted it.

A lot of people think that's what living on the streets is about though, fighting, it isn't, it's about learning to avoid fights, same as when you're in the institutes. You have to know how to handle yourself, where you're at. When I was sixteen I had a choice of going to jail or a trade school, I chose the trade school. I had to live on campus with a hundred other boys from the streets. To be honest there wasn't a lot of sex at that school, but some of the places I heard about, man you had to watch everyone, guards, counselors, teachers, even the kids. The only twisted guy at the trade school I was at was this guard who kept singling me out for cavity searches, he seemed to get off sticking his fingers up my ass.

I got my GED from that place, the only thing I actually learned there that ended up being worth anything in the long run, got me into college and I got an education. I lived on grants and loans for four years.

You'd think with my oversexed childhood, I'd have been a ravenous boy lover from the the get go, but little boys really didn't turn me on, I got this weird feeling around them, but I didn't know why. It wasn't 'til I started to room with Charlie and Manuel that I figured it out. They had boys over all the time. I thought it was weird, but I never said anything.

One night I turn on the TV and there's a DVD in the machine, it's blank and I'm curious, so I play it. I sat there for thirty minutes watching Charlie going to town on this little twelve year old hispanic boy. It was graphic shit and I ended up jerking off. I never said anything about it, but to this day I wish I had never watched that movie, because after that every boy I saw was sexy.

I got my first blowjob from a boy in that house, a blonde haired little ten year old came over when Charlie and Manuel were gone. When I told him they were out, he asked if there was anything he could do to earn money. Five minutes later the kid was wailing his little lungs out as I fucked him up the ass. I gave him twenty-five dollars and told him not to say a word. I felt really guilty about that, but not so guilty that I didn't take advantage of the situation.

The boy's name was Brian and when he came over it was like he was my boy. Charlie and Manuel didn't seem to care, they had other boys, they were happy to share. I never told them what happened when I took the boy to my room and they never asked.

I liked Brian, but not like Ricky. Brian was cute, but he was a slut, and I'm not saying that to be mean, but the kid was hooked on sex. He liked to fuck and he loved sucking cock. There were a lot of times when I didn't have money that he still wanted to do it. That's not to say he wasn't innocent, he was. The money he got was spent on video games, bikes, and other stuff that his mom wouldn't buy him. I moved away when Brian was twelve and he cried and begged me to stay, but I couldn't, Charlie and Manuel were just too crazy. I ran into Brian awhile ago, he's twenty now and he was so happy to see me he hugged me. He didn't say, 'you bastard you raped me, I'm going to kill you', instead he asked, 'why didn't you ever come back to see me?'

I told him the truth, that I was afraid. We talked for awhile, had a few beers. He gave me his number and asked me to call him. He told me he was gay, but that I didn't turn him gay, he was like that before we met. I found out that I was the first to fuck him, he remembered the first time and joked about it, said he was still a little screamer. You would think that would take away some of my guilt, but it didn't.

Now as I watched little Ricky sitting in his chair, wearing his boxers and a tank top, I wondered if I was turning him gay? I wondered what I was doing to this boy, that up until yesterday didn't even know how to jerk off.

He looked at me watching him and smiled mischievously opening his legs a bit more. Five minutes later he was sitting next to me on the couch pawing at my crotch. I watched as he squeezed my cock in his hand, looking at the trickle of pre-cum, probably thinking it was for him and not that first little boy I had sex with so long ago.

"Do you want me to suck it," he asked.

"Yeah," I said, "but only if you want to."

He grinned and knelt down in front of me, looking up at me as his lips touched my glans. I groaned, remembering for a second little Brian, who used to tease me by running his tongue over the head of my penis.

Part II

"Lick it," I said in a husky voice.

He looked at me for a second, then squeezed his eyes shut, the look of a child told to eat his broccoli. I felt him run his tongue softly over the head of my cock, lingering at the tip. The feeling sent tingles through my cock and I smiled.

"That feels great," I said, stroking his hair softly.

He opened his eyes again and I saw a glint there, the boy was hungering for approval, I felt bad taking advantage of it. He took more of my cock in his mouth and I felt it slide across his tongue, his eyes looking down at my hairy bush, almost in awe. I couldn't take my eyes off the sexy sight of this little eleven year old brown haired angel sucking me, his twinkling green eyes looking at me for a second, then suddenly self-conscious, looking away.

He bobbed his head up and down, imitating the motions I had made on his own cock the night before. I let him do what he felt like, I wanted him to feel comfortable doing this, not forced. He wasn't very good, to be honest, but he didn't have to be, the sight of him with his lips wrapped around my thick cock, was enough to get the seed boiling in my balls. I didn't want to come that quick though, I wanted it to last.

"Lick my balls," I said.

I saw the look on his face, his young mind deciding how far he was willing to go. He took my spit slick cock out of his mouth, and started to lick down it's length until he reached my sack, then one at a time, he ran his tongue over each one of my balls, watching me. I smiled and continued to stroke his soft hair.

"That's nice," I said. "You're a natural."

He smiled and said, "does it really feel good? Am I doing it right?"

"Ricky," I said, "you couldn't do it wrong if you tried."

He giggled and took my cock back in his mouth with a renewed vigor, sucking more and more inside until it bumped the back of his throat, bringing tears to his eyes. I moaned as I felt his mouth convulse around my cock, but I stayed still, regardless of what my cock wanted to do. The last thing I wanted was to scare the crap out of this kid trying to force him to do something he wasn't willing to do.

He continued to suck me, running his tongue under the length, allowing my pre-cum to seep out into his mouth like sap. He watched me now, no longer shy, but instead he looked almost proud that he could make me feel so good.

"I'm almost there," I said, feeling my body begin to react to the sensation of his warm mouth. "you might want to start stroking it now."

He took his mouth off my cock, much to my disappointment, and began stroking my cock up and down as he watched me.

"Is it close," he asked, this excited look on his face.

"Oh yeah," I said, then before I realized what I was saying, asked him, "can I cum on your face?"

He looked at me with a slight frown, then as if he had decided, in for a penny, in for a pound, pointed my cock at his face and kept stroking.

"Oh God," I moaned, "here it comes."

I watched as my thick cum shot of my cock and splattered a long strand of cum across his cheek, a second thick spurt came out and coated his nose and upper lip, a third landed on his forehead, dripping over his right eye. He kept stroking, a brave little soldier, allowing my cum to run out from the tip and coat his lips and chin. His face was sticky with my juices. Without asking he took my cock, slick with my cum, into his mouth and gave it one last suck, then let it out with an audible pop.

"God," I said, "Ricky, that was the best cum ever."

I was lying, but not by much, it was indeed one of the best orgasms I ever had, in part because of the lewd display of this little guy kneeling in front of me, his face glazed over with my cum.

"Did you really like it," he asked, my juices dripping down off his chin, threatening to land on the floor.

"Yeah," I said, handing him a towel.

He took the towel and wiped his face, but rather than removing the cum, he only succeeded in coating his face even more with my seed. I groaned and my cock twitched at the sight.

I watched Ricky as he sat at the kitchen table, waiting for dinner. He kept asking if I'd really liked it, as if I was lying to him so I didn't hurt his feelings. I told him I loved it and he could suck me anytime he wanted. He watched me smiling, a knowing look on his face, the look of a boy who had just figured out one of the mysteries of life.

"Do you want to do it again," he asked, insatiable.

"Not right now," I said, pouring a package of spinach into a pan, "don't you want something to eat?"

"Yeah," he said, "but I don't like spinach."

I felt like saying, you don't care for the taste of cum either, but you ate it, instead I said, "well you don't have to eat it if you don't like it."

I put a fried ham steak on his plate and then one on mine. He liked carrots and peas. He watched me as I ate and I worried that he had finally started to feel guilty, but that wasn't the case.

"What's on your mind," I asked.

"Nothing," he said, looking at his food, moving his peas around his plate with his fork.

"Come on," I said, "you can tell me."

"Would you have let me stay here if you didn't want to," he said, "you know."

"Yes," I said. "I wanted to help you the moment I saw you. You didn't deserve to be out there."

"Did anyone let you stay with them when you were living on the streets," he asked.

"No," I said, "I can't say that they did."

"So where did you stay," he asked.

"I rented a room," I said, "back then you could get away with that."

"You had your own room," he asked.

"Yep," I said, remembering that room well.

A Russian man named Demitri had rented me the room and given me the key. He wasn't a pimp in the straightest sense, rather he wanted a split on the action, as well as a bit of action of his own. The man was hung like a horse and after he got done with you, it was really hard to even sit down, let alone see other men that day. I wasn't even twelve at the time, but I had a few regular customers that came to see me, enough to pay the daily rent. Demitri would always come up at ten to put me to bed, leaving a fresh load of his cum in my tummy or ass. He would stroke my hair and tell me he felt sorry for me, but he never offered to let me stay in the room for free.

I worked that room for about a year, before Demetri got busted and sent away. I almost got pinched too, but I had snuck out the window and hid on the roof, until the cops left, then I snuck back down and grabbed my stuff and left.

"Did you like living there," he asked.

"It was better than nothing," I said.

Ricky was insatiable now. As I washed the dishes, I watched him stroking his little cock while he watched a woman's volleyball competition on ESPN. I smiled, I was pretty sure he wasn't gay. I knew that he had seduced me more out of fear than gratitude, the simple fact being he didn't want to have to go back out on the street, or worse his mom's apartment. At least I wasn't selling his toys and clothes for drugs. I wasn't bringing men home at three in the morning and fucking them on the living room couch. No, in the grand scheme of things, taking my cock in his mouth was probably a lot less repugnant to him than hearing his mom have sex every night with some stranger or watching her lay there on the couch so sick she couldn't move when she ran out of drugs.

My mom had been no different. I remembered the times my dad was in jail, my mom having to do whatever she could to get her fix. Unlike Ricky, I would never have flushed my mom's drugs, no, I would've tried to get her more. My mom was a terror when she started to come down. I have a scar across back of my head to attest to that fact. I got too close to her when I was eight and she hit me across the back of the head with a coffee cup, split my scalp open straight to the skull.

Yeah, if I was him I'd have sucked some stranger off too if it meant I didn't have to be in that kind of hell. There were no illusions on my part. I realized that I probably had feelings for the kid, maybe even loved him, in whatever way a man can love a boy that's not his son, but the kid, he was only doing what he needed to do to survive. If I was a decent man, I'd have dropped him off at Family Services and prayed that he got a good home, who knows, maybe he might. I just know that foster homes are a crap game. Not a lot of people take in foster kids out of the good of their heart, most are doing it for the extra money they get. That's not to say there aren't decent loving foster parents out there, there are, it's just, from what I hear, you're more likely to run into the man who can't keep his hands off you at bedtime, or the woman who likes to sit on your legs and burn her initials into your tummy with her cigarette butts.

It amazes me how the system can work the way it does. My friends Charlie and Manuel grew up in a group home. The stories they told me gave me nightmares. I have no doubt why they're the prolific boy fuckers they are, or why they're so successful at their chosen occupation. They spent a good part of their childhoods being manipulated into having sex, it trained them to be perfect little manipulators themselves.

Thinking about that shit, sent my stomach south. I looked at adorable little Ricky, still innocent in his own way, jerking his little dick, oblivious to the fact that he shouldn't be doing that, at least not in front of me. I knew he was never going to be 'normal' now, that some part of him was broken, whether he admitted it or I did. Yeah he might still grow up and get married, but he probably would have some kink relating to our time together, whatever that might be.

Maybe I was making excuses so I didn't have to lose him. I didn't want to lose him. I watched the kid and something inside my soul moved, something I couldn't quite place. I wanted this little boy to be happy and loved. I realized that if it meant I could never touch him again, I'd rather have that, than have him go through what I did. I finally made a decision and called one of my old friends, Phil.

Phil was a lawyer. He represented the dregs of society. Most people would call him a scumbag, I know I would, but he got the job done when it could get done. I told him about everything except for the sex, I thought it would be best to leave that out, if for no other reason, than a fear that Phil might come over and try to get a piece of Ricky as payment.

"Fuck," Phil said. "Do you know what you're doing? You could get time for this."

"I know," I said. "I couldn't help it."

"Are you sure you're not touching the kid," he asked. "You know they'll look at him, do swabs and all that shit."

"Yeah," I said, "I'm not touching him."

"Fuck," Phil said, waiting a moment, "I'll look into it for you, but I can't make any promises."

"I don't want this kid getting hurt," I said. "He's a good kid."

"Let me make some calls," he said. "See if there's anything that can be done."

"How much is this going to cost me," I asked.

"It's not cheap," he said, "you should know that. Pretty little boys are an expensive commodity."

"No ones touching this kid," I said, as menacingly as I could.

"Luke," he said, "he's not my cup of tea, don't worry. I'm just saying, there are going to be questions as to why a single man you're age wants to take care of a pretty little boy. Unless you can answer them, you're probably going to end up spending the next ten years in Sing Sing."

I hung up the phone, my hands trembling. I looked at the kid now, wondering if I should just kick him out. He laughed at something on TV. I thought for all my trouble I deserved a little something, so I went over and picked him up out of the chair and carried him to the bed. He laughed the entire way there.

I pulled his clothes off and sucked his little prick for what seemed like hours. I couldn't tell how many times the kid came, after awhile he just didn't have any juice left to squirt. He finally pulled me off him and begged to do me.

He sucked my dick into his mouth, looking at me with those cute green eyes, his lips stretched taught around my knob. I moaned and put my hand on the top of his head, guiding him on and off my dick, relishing the sensations of his mouth. I didn't tell him when I was going to cum, I just let it go, holding his head down on my cock, forcing him to take it in his mouth. He looked at me with his eyes wild, feeling my juices pump out inside of him. When I was done and let him up, he spit my seed out into his hand and looked at me, with this shocked expression.

"Gross," he said, in an angry little voice. "Why did you do that?"

"I'm sorry buddy," I said, "I don't know what came over me, I just wanted to come in your mouth so bad."

He looked at me pouting, a strand of cum hanging off his chin.

"Was it really that bad," I asked.

"I don't want to do that," he said.

"It feels so good though," I said. "You like coming in my mouth, don't you?"

"Yeah," he said, "but I don't have sperm yet."

"So," I said, "you still have juice."

"But you like that stuff," he said.

"I didn't always," I said, "at first I swallowed it because it made my friends happy."

"I don't know," he said, looking away.

"It's okay," I said, "if you don't want to, you don't have to. I shouldn't have made you, you were just doing such a great job, I lost it for a second."

"Did it really feel that good," he asked.

"God," I said, "did it ever."

My little speech worked. A couple hours later, when my batteries were recharged, Ricky sucked me again, only this time when I told him I was coming, he kept it in his mouth and swallowed all my seed. He looked a bit disgusted, but he did it. I was amazed at how far this kid was going so quickly. It could take months to get a boy to even taste your cum, Ricky was swallowing it the same day he started.

It all seemed like a dream as I lay in bed, Ricky laying on his tummy next to me, already fast asleep, his little leg draped over mine. I stroked the boys hair and looked at him, not really understanding where these feelings I felt for him were coming from. I had seen a lot of little boys on the street and had just kept walking. Ricky was different, the few days we spent together taught me that even more than before. As I fell asleep I decided that I would go to whatever lengths I needed to, to ensure that this boy was happy. If that meant giving him to someone else, then so be it.

Ricky was sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons, laughing now and again, dead to the world. I was in the kitchen making breakfast when I heard the knock on the door. I went to open it and I found Phil standing there in the hallway.

"Can I come in," he asked.

"What are you doing here," I asked.

"I'm representing you," he said.

"What the hell Phil," I said, "the boy's here."

"I know," he said, "I need to talk to him first, before I do anything."

"Talk," I asked.

"Don't worry," he said. "He's too young for my tastes."

I opened the door and let Phil in. He walked in and looked around. Ricky was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's the kid," he asked.

"He must have hid in the bedroom," I said, "Ricky come on out."

Ricky opened the bedroom door and looked out, he had gotten on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

"It's okay," I said. "This is my lawyer, Phil. He's trying to help me find a place for you to live."

"Hello Ricky," Phil said. "Don't worry, I'm just hear to talk to you. I want to know what you want to do."

"I want to stay here," Ricky said, in an angry voice. "I like it here."

"Ricky," I said, "Phil's trying to help us, be nice."

"That's okay," Phil said, "He's just afraid I'm going to make him leave, but I'm not. I just want to make sure you're not being hurt."

Phil looked at me after he said that, and I said, "I wouldn't hurt him."

"Luke is nice to me," Ricky said, in a pleading voice, "Please don't make me leave. I like Luke."

"I know you do Ricky," Phil said, "but what about your mom? Would you want to stay with her if she got cleaned up?"

"What do you mean," he asked.

"I spoke to her," Phil said. "She's going into rehab tomorrow. She's very sorry about what happened. She loves you very much you know."

"She's going to stop taking drugs," Ricky asked, doubt in his voice.

"Yes," Phil said. "Well, she's going to try."

"How did you find that out," I asked.

"You said you wanted me to make sure the kid was okay," Phil said. "I couldn't think of anyone better to take care of him than his mom. We just have to get her cleaned up first."

"What about Luke," Ricky asked.

"Well," Phil said, "you can stay with Luke until your mom gets better, then you'll go home and live with her again."

"I don't want to live with her," he said, in an angry voice.

"She loves you very much," Phil said, "she's just very sick right now. She was really sad that she hurt you. She's been worried sick since you left."

"I didn't leave," Ricky said, "she kicked me out."

"I know," Phil said, "and she's very sorry she did that. She loves you very much and she wants to get clean so she can take care of you again, really be your mom."

"I don't believe you," Ricky said.

"You don't have to right now," Phil said. "All you have to do is stay here until she gets better."

"What if she doesn't get better," Ricky asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Phil said.

Ricky sat next to me on the couch, watching Friends. He had been very quiet since Phil left. I had mixed feelings about the whole thing, not wanting him to go, but also knowing that he needed a mother and a normal home.

"You know," I said, "I'll still be right here, if you need me."

"I know," he said.

"Don't you want your mom to get well," I asked.

"I don't think she'll get better," he said in a sad little voice.

"Well," I said, "all we can do is hope for the best."

He nodded and leaned against me, wrapping his arms around my own arm. We watched TV until it got late. When it came time to go to bed, he said he wanted to sleep on the couch. I waited 'til he fell asleep and then went and laid down on my bed. I couldn't get to sleep. At around two, while I was laying in the dark, I heard Ricky moving around in the living room. I got out of bed to find him stuffing his things into one of my backpacks.

"Weren't you going to say goodbye," I asked.

He jumped and turned to look at me, fear in his eyes, and said, "I didn't want you to stop me."

"Where are you going to go," I asked.

"I don't know," he said, "but I don't want to go to my mom's. I don't love my mother anymore."

"Okay," I said. "then you wont go back there, you'll stay with me, we'll do whatever we have to."

"What do you mean," he asked.

"If it comes down to it," I said, "you wont go back, we'll leave and go someplace else."

"But what about mom," he asked.

"She had her chance with you," I said, "and if it comes down to you being safe or running away, I'm going to make sure you're safe."

"Really," he asked, not sounding convinced.

"Ricky," I said, "I care for you so much, even if you might not understand. I don't want anything bad happening to you."

"It's because I'm like you," he said, "well, like you were."

"Maybe," I said. "maybe not. I just know I'll do anything to make sure your happy."

"So I don't have to go back with my mom," he asked.

"Not if you don't want to," I said, "but I think we should at least give her a chance first."

"I don't want to," he said, looking down at her feet, "I never want to see her again."

"Never is a long time," I said.

Ricky slept on the couch, his head in my lap. I stroked his hair, looking down at the tired little boy. I realized that his life was different than mine. If my mother had offered to get clean and take me back, I would've gone home without a second thought. How horrible it must have been for little Ricky. I guess I forgot how helpless you can feel when someone you love is destroying themselves right in front of you, how the love you had can so easily turn to hate.

The sudden turn of events didn't damper Ricky's libido at all. The next morning he begged me to suck him, offering to do me 'all the way' if I did. Who was I to deny him?

He lived up to his promise, going so far as to open his mouth to show me my cum was inside, only to swallow it down in one gulp, his sour look turning to a mischievous grin as he saw my reaction.

For the next few days, that's how it went, brief interludes of sex, followed by our daily routine. I spent as little time at work as I had to, always worried I'd come home to find him gone. His attitude was changing though, the sweet little angel was occasionally turning into a little hellion.

The next weekend we returned to the beach. He was a quick study and soon he was able to swim on his own. He wasn't a strong swimmer, so I kept my eye on him, but I let him have some time alone in the water. When it came time to leave, he begged to stay, but I was firm and told him we had to go for dinner.

When I got back from parking the car he was sitting watching television, absorbed in some show that involved giant robots. He was getting distant, I could tell. I worried we had moved too fast and now he was beginning to have regrets about the things we did. I should've known better.

"I'm going to take a bath," I said.

"Okay," he said, not taking his eyes from the television.

"Did you have a good time today," I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"You look sad," I said, "what's the matter."

"Nothing," he said.

"I know there's something wrong," I said, "do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he said.

"Is it because I made you do those things," I asked.

"You didn't make me do anything," he said, looking at me with these sad little eyes.

"Then what is it," I asked.

He waited for a second, looking down at the ground, then said, "it's my mom."

"We talked about this," I said, "you don't have to go back if you don't want to."

"What if I do," he said, "I don't want to leave you alone."

"Buddy," I said, kneeling down beside him, running my hand along his cheek, "you don't need to worry about that, you need to worry about what you want to do."

"I don't want you to be sad," he said.

"Ricky," I said, "Seeing you sad makes me sad. I only want you to be happy."

"Will I be able to see you if I go home," he asked.

"I don't see why not," I said, "I can be like your big brother."

"Big brothers are dorky," he said, "My friend Stevie has one and everyone makes fun of him."

"Then we can just be friends," I said.

"Really," he asked.

"Have I lied to you yet," I asked.

"No," he said, leaning his cheek against my hand.

When I got out of the tub he was waiting on my bed naked. I looked at him, a towel wrapped around my waist and thought of all the lewd things we could do, then decided I would rather just spend some time with him.

"Lets play Guitar Hero," I said.

"You don't want to have fun," he asked.

"We can have fun playing the X-Box," I said.

He shrugged and got up off the bed, as he walked by me he let his hand slide gently across my bulge, as if to say, I know what you really want to do.

We sat beside each other taking turns playing the video games, for once his competitive nature was put aside. After awhile he moved and sat on my lap, looking at me smiling. I smiled back. He could feel my bulge wedged in the crack of his ass.

"You want to fuck me," he said, this serious look on his face.

"You're too little for that," I said, knowing how painful it was for a boy his size to take a cock as big as mine.

"I can take it," he said, "if you want to, I'll let you."

I knew he really didn't want to do that, that this was just his way of making up for telling me he wanted to be with his mom. I should've stopped him, but feeling him slide his butt across my cock, sent shivers up my spine.

"Buddy," I said, "If I start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop."

"You don't have to stop," he said. "I want to make you feel good."

"It'll hurt," I said, "maybe a lot."

"I can take it," he said.

I looked at him, smelling the strawberry shampoo in his hair, my dick throbbed against his backside. Normally boys rarely offered to fuck you. In most cases you had to coax them into it over time. I knew that Ricky would be tight, but he also was an older boy, so it probably wouldn't be as painful for him as it had been for me my first time.

"Has anyone ever fucked you," I asked.

"No," he said, then in a bashful voice added, "but…"

"But what," I asked.

"I've put my fingers up there," he said, "and toilet paper."

"Toilet paper," I asked.

"Yeah," he said, as I slipped my hand inside of his shorts, feeling his stiff little prick throbbing. "I ball it up and put it inside, then poop it back out."

"Do you like it," I asked.

"Sometimes," he said. "If feels funny."

"My dick will stretch you a lot more than toilet paper," I said, "are you sure you want to do it?"

"Yeah," he said. "I like you. I want to do it."

I shook my head, certain that he didn't want to do it, so much as he wanted to make sure I didn't abandon him. I felt sad that the boy thought the only thing he had to offer me was his body. I wanted so much to say no, to tell him I wouldn't do that to him, but instead I lifted him off the couch and took him into the bedroom.

I stared at him as he lay there rolled up into a ball, his knees on either side of his head. He watched as I lubed up my fingers. I could tell he was nervous, frightened even, but he wouldn't deny me, he couldn't, not because I would force him, but because he wanted all of me and he thought this was the only way to have that.

I coated his tiny hole with the lube, watching his reaction. He tried to see what I was doing, but couldn't. I stopped for a second and grabbed him by the hips and swung him around, then laid him down on his side, so his left leg was pulled to his chest and his right was held up in the air by my free hand.

"You can watch me," I said, pointing to the mirror I had placed at the foot of my bed, so I could see myself when I jacked off.

He lay there resting his cheek on his forearm. I continued to watch him, gauging his reaction, trying to take it as slow as possible.

"Push out like you're taking a poop," I said.

I watched his little hole wink and when it did I pushed the tip of my finger inside of him, he let out a little gasp, looking up at me for a second in surprise.

"Does it hurt," I asked.

"No," he said. "your fingers are bigger than mine."

"I know," I said, "if you don't want to do this, you don't have to."

"I want to," he said.

"I don't know if I'll be able to stop once I'm inside," I said, trying to be honest, "I don't want to hurt you."

"I can take it," he said, trying very hard to be brave, even as his body trembled underneath me.

"Okay," I said, moving my finger further inside of him, watching as his body tensed up.

I gently stroked his leg as I pushed my finger in and out, my cock was as stiff as it could be, almost painfully stiff. I kept telling myself, 'this is you, this is you, don't do it', but I couldn't stop. The feeling of his bottom wrapped around my finger drove me on, fueling the lust inside of me.

He whimpered as I moved my finger in circles inside of him, trying to stretch him out as much as I could. He lay there, breathing softly, his eyes glued to the mirror, watching my finger slide in and out of his body.

"That's nice," he said.

"You like that," I asked.

He nodded, not even bothering to look up, instead watching my reflection.

"I'm going to put two inside now," I said.

"Okay," he said, still staring at the obscene display in the mirror.

"Here goes," I said, pushing a second finger inside slowly.

His body went rigid for a second and his face scrunched up in pain as I slipped inside. He hissed as I twirled my two fingers around, just inside of his bottom.

"I'm sorry," I said, "do you want me to take them out."

"No," he said, "I want you to fuck me."

"Are you sure," I asked, pushing my fingers in slowly, testing his will.

His eyes closed for a second as he grew accustomed to this new intrusion, then after a moment they opened and he turned his head to look at me.

"Please," he said, "I don't want to be scared anymore."

"What do you mean," I asked.

"Just put it inside," he said, "I don't want to wait anymore."

"It will hurt if I don't stretch you out," I said, moving my fingers in and out of his bottom.

"It'll hurt anyways," he said, turning back to watch in the mirror, "just put it in already."

I looked at him, wanting to stop, instead I removed my fingers from his bottom and applied more lube to his hole, I pushed it inside with my fingers, smearing his intestines with the slippery fluid, then squirted a liberal amount on my stiff seven and half inch [19 cm] dick.

I knew I could not put enough lubricant inside of him to make it painless, that this part would be the true test of his resolve. He watched in the mirror, his face taking on a grim expression as I placed the head of my dick against his winking pink hole.

He groaned as I pushed forward, relentlessly applying pressure to his tight bottom.

"Push out," I said in desperate voice.

When he did, my dick popped in and he cried out, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"

His hands pushed against my tummy, trying hard to hold me back, to keep my cock from going any further. I looked down and saw his anal ring stretched tight and thin around my dick. I tried to hold as still as I could.

"Does it hurt," I asked, already knowing the answer to my question.

"It's so big," he said on the verge of tears, "I didn't think it would hurt so much."

"I told you," I said, "it always hurts the first time."

"Don't put anymore in," he said in a pleading voice, "please."

"I wont," I said, "We'll let you stretch out a bit, okay."

He looked at the mirror, seeing his body as it lay bellow mine, the tip of my thick cock dissapearing into his tight hole, and he shuddered, finally realizing the enormity of the task at hand.

I did my best to hold still, but each time I shifted, he gasped, feeling my cock move inside him, even if it was only a centimeter. We stayed like that, joined together by mere inches, him feeling his tight ring with his finger, then sliding down the length of my penis still outside of him. Finally, with patience, the pain lessened and he was ready.

Without a word, I slid further in him. He cried out once more, his head thrown back, his chest rising and falling as he tried to cope with the painful intrusion. His eyes were closed now, unable to watch the deviant act playing out before him.

I could feel him tense up, his body trying to push out my thick muscle, a futile attempt to resist the massive rod invading his bottom. He whimpered softly, his eyes closed. I worried if he asked me to, if I could stop.

"Do you want to keep going," I asked.

For a moment there was no reaction, he lay there in contemplation, then he nodded his head, wiping a rogue tear from his cheek.

"I don't want to hurt you," I said.

"It's starting to feel better," he said in a soft miserable voice. "It's okay."

My lust outweighed my compassion, the feeling of his tight tunnel squeezing against my cock too much for me to deny. I pushed forward again, sinking nearly all of my cock inside of him, eliciting a deep whine from inside of his small body.

"Wait," he cried out. "Oh God, wait."

"I'm sorry," I said, holding still again, feeling the spasms inside of him, worried I might have torn his insides.

I started to pull out, but he shouted in a desperate voice, "don't take it out."

"I need to make sure you're okay," I said, pulling my dick free of his hole.

I watched as his anus twitched and winked, opening and closing. My dick was remarkably clean and his hole looked fine, if a bit dilated. I put the bottle of lube directly against his tight ring and squeezed the slick gel inside of him, causing him to gasp. Once again I spread the lube over my cock and placed it at his hole. When I pushed inside for the second time, he grunted, gripping the sheets in his small hands.

My dick filled him up slowly, stretching him once more. I didn't stop pushing until my balls rested against his thigh. His cheeks were flush and he held his breath, wincing as he felt his bottom clinging to my bloated cock.

"I'm all the way in," I said, "you did it."

He gave me a weak smile and shifted his body beneath me, trying to get into a comfortable position. I held still, the anticipation of what was too come, almost unbearable. The idea of stroking my cock in and out of Ricky's bottom was sending tingles throughout my body.

"Luke," he said, the first signs of hesitation in his voice, "you're too big."

"The hard parts over," I said.

"I don't know if I can take anymore," he said in a whining voice, "it really hurts."

"I know buddy," I said, reaching down to stroke his hair, "and I'm so happy you're letting me do this."

If he told me to, I'd take it out, I knew that. I thought I wouldn't be able to, I wasn't able to with Brian when I fucked him. Brian had begged me over and over to stop, but I just kept going. Maybe I was more mature, maybe my feelings were different for this boy, what I knew was that I couldn't continue to hurt my darling little Ricky, no matter how dark my heart was, if it became unbearable for him.

He laid there, his body still tense as his body adjusted to me, he looked up at me for a second, I'm sure wondering how far I was going to go with him, whether I would stop if he wanted to. I said nothing, not wanting to encourage him to stop, rather I left that decision up to him.

"It feels really good," I said.

"Really," he asked, "what does it feel like."

I thought for a second and then said, "really tight."

"I know," he said, "you feel so big."

"It gets easier," I said, "soon you'll beg me to fuck you."

He looked at me, not believing a word of it, then a wicked smile formed on his lips and he said, "fuck me."

"You're too much," I said, groaning.

I pulled out of him slowly, then pushed back in. He grunted softly as I bottomed out. I watched where are bodies joined together, the obscene image of my thick cock stretching his hole taught as it slipped out of his slim bottom, only to return, filling him up again. As I pushed in the second time Ricky tried to change positions, rolling over onto his back. He gasped as my cock pulled free of him.

"Ready," I asked, watching as he pulled his legs up to his his chest.

"Yeah," he said, "but go slow."

I did as he asked, pushing my thick cock into him at a snails pace, feeling his intestines cling to my dick as it forced it's way back into his tight passage. He moaned as he felt my length rub along his prostate, causing an unfamiliar sensation to coarse through his body.

"Oh yeah," he said, arching his back.

I reached down and stroked his little soft penis, trying to take his mind of the pain, knowing that if I was stimulating his prostate with my dick, I could give him one of the best orgasms of his young life.

His breathing became ragged, he reached up and pushed my hand away, taking over the duty of stroking his cock. He pulled on it frantically, I smiled at his urgency, realizing he was crossing that threshold of pain and pleasure. He whimpered again, but this time it was the halfhearted whimper of boy unsure what his body was doing.

I quickened my pace, driving into his bottom, causing Ricky to gasp when I bottomed out inside of him. I stroked his legs as I held them against my chest. He opened his eyes and watched me, a puzzled expression on his face.

"You're making my bottom tingle," he said, unaware that I understood better than him what he was feeling, having been fucked more times in my life than I could even remember.

"I know," I said, smiling, "I told you it got better."

"Why does it feel good," he asked, innocently.

"Because I'm rubbing your prostate," I said.

"My prostate," he asked.

"It's a little gland in your bottom," I said, smearing some of the clear fluid from the tip of his dick on to my finger, then showing it to him, "that's where this is coming from."

"It feels really funny," he said in a tired voice.

"I know," I said, "We'll be done soon."

"Are you going to come inside me," he asked.

"Yeah," I said, "you'll feel it when it happens."

He nodded and closed his eyes, absorbed in the sensations coursing through his bottom and penis. I watched as his fingers tugged at his stiff little cock urgently, milking as much pleasure as he could from the small organ.

I could feel my own orgasm building as well. My balls began to tighten up as I watched my dick push in and out of him. Each time he gasped, it threatened to send me over the edge. Without thinking I grabbed his hips and started to thrust inside of his bottom at a feverish pace, feeling cum rising up inside of me, then, as if the very center of my being was exploding inside of me, I came, shooting thick gobs of slimy juice inside of his bottom. Ricky's eyes widened in surprise as he felt the fluid shoot inside of him.

"I can feel it," he shouted. "you're doing it inside me!"

"Oh God," I said, pushing as far as I could inside of his bottom and then holding still, feeling his slim passage spasm around my dick as it pulsed and spit more cum into his tight ass.

I collapsed on top of him, panting, trying to catch my breath. It was one of the most intense orgasms of my life. I felt Ricky pushing against me, trying to roll me off his small body. I lifted myself up off of him and lay down beside him.

I saw his fingers still stroking his tiny cock as he whimpered, then a shot of clear juice shot high up into the air and came down to land next to his belly button. Three more tiny blasts came out, splattering little patterns on his belly. When he was done, his cock was coated in his slimy boy juice.

"Did you like it," I asked.

"I guess," he said. "It hurt real bad, then it started to feel better."

"It'll get easier," I said, stroking his side. "Thank you for letting me do that to you."

"It's okay," he said, "I like you a lot, I want to make you feel good."

"Well you did buddy," I said, "that's the best I've felt in a long time."

Part Three

He looked over at me every once in awhile, then back at the television, I'm sure he was worried I'd want to do it again and I did, but there was no way I'd fuck him so soon after his first time. I was thankful there was no blood, at least I hadn't damaged his body. I poured a glass of whiskey and sat down at the kitchen table, trying hard not to think about the sordid act I'd committed.

Ricky's mom had been in rehab for a week now. Phil said that she'd been doing well. She'd be out of inpatient in five weeks, then move to outpatient. I wondered how many times I could convince Ricky to fuck me before he went home, then hated myself for thinking about him like that. I loved the kid, I couldn't deny it, not a simple fondness for a boy in trouble, but actual love. I felt myself breaking down inside, all these feelings that I had pushed aside for years came back like a flood, washing over the landscape of my memories, clearing away all the camouflage and forcing me to remember things I never wanted to.

When I was fourteen I was picked up by some guy who said he was having a party. He offered me five hundred dollars to come and help entertain the guests, problem was, I was the only one entertaining them. I can't remember how many guys were there, all I can remember is the groping hands and the brutality of it all. When it was done they dumped me on a street corner. My jeans were soaked in blood and I could barely walk, I was so sore, a cop spotted me and I tried to run away, but he caught me and I ended up in the emergency room. I was in the hospital for a week.

The doctors kept asking me if I was gay. A therapist came in, but I didn't want to talk to her, I was too ashamed about what had happened, I just wanted to forget everything about that night and once I got out I did. I hadn't thought about it in a long time.

I knew it would hurt, why did I make Ricky do that if I knew it hurt?

'He'd like it eventually,' I told myself, 'just like I did.' I enjoyed it before that party, at least I liked doing it with the guys who were gentle, but after that night it all changed, I never let another dick up my ass. I guess I should be happy he's only taking mine up there, if I hadn't found him maybe he'd have had to go through that too, or maybe I'm just making excuses, either way, I don't want to hurt the kid.

"Why are you drinking," Ricky asked, I could tell he was worried.

"It's just one," I said, "I just need something to calm my nerves."

"Why are you nervous," he asked.

"I'm sorry buddy," I said, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. "I shouldn't have done that to you."

"It's okay," he said, "I like you, I wanted to do it."

"No," I said, "you didn't want to do it. I know that."

"I did," he said, "I wanted to make you happy."

"You already made me happy," I said. "We didn't need to do that."

"I'm okay," he said, as he came over next to me. "It doesn't hurt that bad."

I pulled him down so he was sitting on my lap and looked at him, without thinking I kissed him on his forehead. He smiled and leaned back against me.

"We don't have to do that anymore," I said, "I love you and I'll never leave you, okay?"

He nodded and leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. I ran my hands through his hair, looking into his green eyes, trying to see how much pain there was inside of him, but instead I saw sadness, not for what had happened to him, but what he thought he'd done to me.

"It's not you buddy," I said, knowing that he had no idea why I was sad. "Its just things happen in your life and when you remember that it happened, it hurts."

"I'm sorry someone hurt you," he said, wrapping his arms around me.

"I know buddy," I said, holding him close and rocking him back and forth in my arms.

We sat there quietly holding each other, then he turned to me and asked, "do you really love me?"

I realized it was the first time I'd told him I'd loved him, I tried to say it again but couldn't, all I could do was nod.

"I love you too," he said. "You're my best friend in the whole world."

I smiled and said, "I know."

Two weeks later Ricky was bent over the side of the bed, moaning as I slowly pushed inside of his bottom. I loved watching my dick slide in and out his ass, and he seemed to love having it in there. It was still painful when I first entered him, but I learned if I gave him some time to adjust he opened right up and we could both enjoy it.

"I'm going to cum," he said, his little hand stroking his cock like mad.

He cried out when his orgasm hit him and it sent me over the edge, I thrust inside of him roughly, causing him to grunt as my cum shot out and coated his intestines. I could feel the walls of his bottom spasm around my cock, as his little fist coaxed the last of his own orgasm from his body.

I watched him as he walked, slightly bowlegged, to the toilet and sat down. He watched me as I cleaned my cock off with a towel. Afterwards we lay down on my bed and watched cartoons. He loved to snuggle up next to me. As he leaned against me, he rubbed his hand on my stomach and looked at my cock, I'm sure wondering if he could get it stiff without touching it.

His mother would get out of rehab in three weeks. She was doing great and she'd asked to see Ricky, but Ricky didn't want to see her yet. She didn't force the issue, which to me was a good sign. I wanted Ricky to go home, even if it meant losing him. He needed to be with his mother, to have a normal child's life and that was something I couldn't give him.

Claustrophobia was setting in on Ricky. He constantly looked out the window, wanting to do something. The weekends at the beach could only do so much for him, so I took him downtown and we went shopping. I bought him a pair of shoes and we got some hotdogs. He took his hotdog out of the bun and started to slide it in and out his mouth, I slapped him upside the head before anyone could see and he gave me this dirty look.

"Don't do that," I said.

"You didn't have to hit me," he said rubbing the back of his head.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but you can't do that. You could get me in a lot of trouble."

He rolled his eyes, something I was beginning to find annoying, and we continued our little walk. We stopped by the arcade and Ricky went inside to play some games. I waited outside on a bench, keeping an eye on him, when I heard a familiar voice.

"So you are alive," Charlie said.

I turned to see Charlie, wearing a green t-shirt with a red cross on the chest, his dark brown hair in spikes, He was walking with a little blonde haired boy with brown eyes that couldn't have been more than eight or nine. The kid didn't look happy, in fact he kept looking around like he was afraid someone would see him. I had a good idea why the kid was worried and knew that he probably should be.

"Hi Charlie," I said.

"Where have you been," he asked. "It's like you dropped off the face of the earth."

"I've been around," I said, "I've been working a lot."

"Ahh," he said, "I thought you might be dating again."

I looked at Charlie, not saying anything, he knew as well as I did, that I never dated, at least not that he knew about.

"Nope," I said. "Not dating."

"Why don't you come by my place," he said. "It's great, Miguel just moved back in and he brought his plasma, we could watch some movies."

I knew what kind of movies Charlie watched on his television, but I didn't say anything, instead I just said, "I can in a couple of weeks, right now works got me bogged down."

"Well that's a shame," he said. "Hey, you'll never guess who I ran into."

"Do I have to guess," I asked, causing the little blonde haired boy to giggle.

"No," he said, giving the little guy a dirty look, "If you want to ruin the game, you don't have to."

"Who was it," I asked.

"Brian," he said. "You remember Brian don't you?"

"Yeah," I said, "I ran into him awhile back, how's he doing?"

"Good," Charlie said, "Did you know he's gay?"

"Yeah," I said, "He told me."

"Well I guess it's not too much of a shocker," Charlie said. "Still, he wanted me to tell you to call him."

"I've got his number," I said, "I'll give him a call."

"Cool," he said. "Well me and Corey have to get back to my place, we got a lot of stuff to do this afternoon."

"Corey," I said, looking at the worried little kid kid, "Well that's a cool name."

"Thanks," the kid said, a shy smile forming on his lips.

"Maybe you'd like to come over," Charlie asked.

Just then I saw Ricky walking out of the store, I tried to motion for him to go away, but he just walked right on over.

"I ran out of quarters," he said, sitting down next to me on the bench.

"Who are you," Charlie said, looking a bit surprised.

"I'm Ricky," Ricky said.

Charlie held out his hand and Ricky grabbed it and shook. For a second I wanted to punch Charlie in the face, but I didn't, instead I stood up and looked him in the eyes.

"Rickys staying with me while his mom is in the hospital," I said in a serious voice.

"Ah," Charlie said, "well I can see how that would keep you busy."

"Cut the crap Charlie," I said.

"Chill out Luke," Charlie said looking a bit surprised. "I don't care, you should know that."

"He's just staying with me," I said.

"Good," Charlie said, "I'm glad. Don't freak out man."

"I'm not freaking out," I said. "I just don't want to deal with any bullshit."

"There's not going to be any," Charlie said. "I was joking around man. You know me."

"I don't like the joke," I said, as I looked down at Ricky who didn't really know what was going on.

"Dude," Charlie said, "You're too intense. Take a breath."

I looked at him, remembering that video I'd seen all those years ago, wondering if I could ever forgive him for that, then I remembered all the nights we stayed up sharing our pasts with each other and my anger slipped away.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just never know when to take you seriously."

"It's cool," he said, patting me on the shoulder. "I'm happy for you man. It's probably good to have a little company. I worry about you all alone in that apartment."

"I know," I said. "I'm okay. Rickys good company."

"Good to know," Charlie said. "Still, you two should come over to my place."

"I don't think that would be a good idea," I said, knowing what went on over there.

"Don't be such a worry wart," he said. "I'll make sure and put all the porno away, so we wont corrupt little Ricky here."

"You got porno," Corey asked.

"Shh," Charlie said, "It was a joke."

Charlie's apartment was a loft downtown. I wondered how he got the money to rent it, even with Miguel paying part of the rent. The living room alone was twice the size of my apartment, I thought it must cost five thousand a month for an apartment like this. I had no idea they were making that kind of money. I noticed the shades were closed over the windows, that was never a good sign.

"Miguel," Charlie hollered, "Luke's here!"

I looked around and I could tell that Ricky was impressed, Corey however, was trembling. I started to get real concerned for the kid.

"Luke," Miguel said, coming out of the room in just his boxers, "what the fuck are you up to man?"

Miguel hadn't changed, his dark hair was still cut short and he still looked like he spent six hours a day in the gym, he actually only spent two. He walked over and gave me a big bear hug and looked at the two boys with us.

"What's with the kids," he asked.

"This is Ricky," Charlie said quickly, "he's staying with Luke."

"Hello Ricky," Miguel said, looking over the boy like he was examining a horse he was deciding to buy.

Corey frowned and looked up at me, I could see the sadness in his eyes.

"Ricky," I said, "Go watch some TV, take Corey with you."

Ricky looked at me, I could see he knew something was wrong, he waited a moment then grabbed Corey by the hand and took him into the living room. Miguel watched them as they left.

I waited 'til the kids were out of the room then I looked Charlie in the eyes and asked, "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean," Charlie asked.

"The kid," I said. "I knew you guys fucked boys, I just didn't know you raped them."

"Fuck you," Miguel said, taking a step towards me.

"Step off," I said, pushing him back, I thought Miguel was going to swing at me, but he didn't.

"Chill guys," Charlie said, getting between us, "it's not like that, Luke."

"Then what's it like," I asked.

"Fuck Luke," Charlie said, "he's Calvin's kid."

"Calvin's gay," I said, "how does he have a kid?"

"Calvin wasn't always gay," Charlie said, "or at least he tried not to be for awhile. He met this girl and you know."

"You expect me to believe that," I said.

"Believe what you want to believe," Charlie said, "But he's Calvin's kid."

"You're fucking your own nephew," I said, feeling the anger rising up inside of me.

"No," he said. "I wouldn't do that."

"Then why is he here," I asked.

"Calvin's in trouble," Charlie said. "Bad trouble. He didn't want the kid with him. I picked him up tonight. He must've told the kid about us, that's why he's so freaked."

"Shit," I said, "Why the fuck would you ask me to come over?"

"I thought he'd feel better if there was another kid around," Charlie said. "I'm not going to touch him, neither is Miguel. It's just, I don't know what to do with him."

"Are you lying," I asked. "I've kept all your dirty secrets Charlie, don't lie to me."

"It's the truth," he said.

I looked at him for a moment and I saw it in his eyes, he was telling the truth and he was scared as hell.

"What kind of trouble," I asked.

"Drugs," he said, "he lost a lot of drugs."

"How much is a lot," I asked.

"Enough," Charlie said. "They're after him."

"Fuck," I said, suddenly feeling very worried.

"How much is a lot," I asked.

"Ten thousand dollars worth," Charlie said.

"I can't believe this," I said, "Why would Calvin being doing drugs?"

"He's not doing them," Charlie said, "He was selling X at the night clubs."

"It can't be that bad," I said, "Can't you just pay them off?"

"Where are we going to get ten thousand dollars," he asked, "I don't have that kind of money."

"How the hell did you pay for this stuff," I asked.

"We didn't," Miguel said. "Calvin was paying for it."

"Are you guys retarded," I said, "Calvin's paying for this place and you brought the kid back here?"

"What do you mean," Charlie asked.

"They're going to come here you fucking morons," I said, suddenly realizing that a hard life in an institute definitely didn't equate to street sense. "Boys come on we're leaving."

"You can't just take them," Charlie said. "Calvin left him with me."

"I'm taking them," I said, "and you're not coming with us. You've got my number right?"

"Yeah," Charlie said.

"Erase it from your phone and memorize it," I said. "Call me tomorrow. If you see Calvin tell him I'm going to get the money, let them know that they'll have it Friday."

"How are you going to get that kind of money," Miguel asked.

"I've already got it," I said, "I just need to get to it."

"You'd do that for Calvin," Charlie asked.

"You don't get it do you," I said.

"Get what," Miguel said.

"I'm not doing this for Calvin," I said, "I'm doing it for the kid."

I reached up on the top shelf of my closet and pulled down the old cigar box I kept there. I pulled out the .45 automatic I kept inside and cleared the chamber, then put it in the waistband of my pants and went out to the living room and sat on the couch.

Ricky and Corey were playing the X-Box, but I could tell they were nervous. I made a mental note to stop walking downtown until Charlie moved out of the city.

"You guys hungry," I asked, realizing Corey probably hadn't had dinner.

"Yeah," Ricky said, "Can we have some burritos?"

"Sure," I said.

I went to the kitchen and took some burritos out of the fridge and started making dinner. I was nervous, it had been a long time since I was in any kind of trouble, well trouble like this. I tried to stay calm, but my nerves were shot. I put two plates on the table and watched the kids eat.

I shook my head, not understanding Calvin, how he could do something this stupid. Out of the three stooges, he always seemed to be the smartest of the set. I liked Calvin, he was like a little brother to me. I met him when he was nineteen and seriously confused. I remember staying up late at night to talk to him, he was always so sad. He was the first one to tell me stories about the place he grew up at. He'd wake up from nightmares and come out to the living room and I'd sit up with him playing cards til he could fall asleep.

I was doing this for Calvin, I just wouldn't tell them that. I didn't want to be the guy they went to to get them out of trouble. Charlie and Miguel had more trouble than I could ever fix.

I hoped Charlie and Miguel were smart enough to stay someplace else tonight, I had told them to clear out, but I wasn't sure if they would. They liked to think they were tough, but they had no idea what they were dealing with. I wondered who it was Charlie dealt with, I had been off the streets so long I didn't know who dealt what anymore.

I pulled the hideaway out of the couch and made up the bed. I had Ricky and Corey sleep in my bedroom. I didn't actually sleep, I couldn't, instead I stayed up all night, the gun tucked under my pillow, jumping every time I heard a sound.

When morning came I made breakfast for the boys and while they were eating I went into the bedroom and called Phil.

"What are you trying to do," he yelled into the phone, "save every fucking kid in the city?"

"He's my friend's kid," I said, "I had to do something."

"Jesus," Phil said. "I've got court in the morning, I'll be over around one."

"Thanks Phil," I said, "I knew I could count on you man."

"Don't try to sweat talk me," he said. "I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for Ricky."

"Fine," I said, "thanks anyways."

"Call the bank and give them a heads up," Phil said, "otherwise you'll be there all day."

"I will," I said.

The boys played video games all morning, Corey spilled soda all over his pants and shirt and I had to rinse them out in the sink. The kid was sitting in front of the TV in his underwear when Phil arrived. Phil looked at the kid, then me, with this frown on his face.

"He spilled soda on his clothes," I said, "they're drying in the bathroom."

Phil just shook his head and sat down in front of the TV. I noticed a bulge in his jacket pocket and realized he was carrying.

"They don't know where he is," I said, "you don't need to worry."

"I always worry," Phil said, "that's why I'm still alive."

I left the apartment and went to the garage and got my car. I drove to the bank and got the money. Charlie still hadn't called me and I was starting to get worried. I dialed his number but he didn't pick up. I knew I shouldn't, but I drove over to his loft and parked out front. I looked up at the window and saw the shade move to the side and realized someone was there. I dialed his number again, still no answer. I pulled the gun out of my pocket and made sure the safety was off, then put it back inside.

I walked up the stairs, avoiding the elevator. I looked out in the hallway to make sure it was clear and walked over to the apartment. I knocked on the door and stepped back, my hand in my pocket. I heard someone opening the door and aimed the gun.

"What are you doing here," Calvin said.

"Calvin," I said, "where are Charlie and Miguel?"

"They left," he said, "They're staying at a motel, I had to come back for some stuff."

"What stuff," I asked, feeling like something wasn't right.

"Some clothes, my watch," he said, but I didn't believe him, he didn't look like a man on the run.

"You lied to them," I said, "why did you lie to them?"

"I'm not lying," he said, not able to look me in the eye.

"Why," I said, "If you needed money, why didn't you ask for it?"

"I don't need your money," Calvin said. "I've got money."

"Then why," I said. "Why would you leave your son with those guys?"

"I didn't have anyplace else to leave him," Calvin said.

I pushed Calvin back inside and we talked. Calvin told me he started to have thoughts about Corey, that he tried not to have them, but he couldn't. Corey's mom was gone and no one knew where she was. He had no family and he didn't want to do stuff to his own kid. He didn't know what else to do. He told Charlie that he was in trouble and asked him to take care of Corey. It didn't make sense, 'til I saw his face, the look of helplessness.

"It'll be alright," I said. "I mean think about it, if you're willing to give up your son so you wont hurt him, I think that's a good sign that you're the best person for him to be with."

"I can't get rid of the thoughts," he said. "I want to stop thinking about it, but I can't."

"I know," I said.

"You didn't...," he started to ask me, then looked away.

"No," I said, "He's your kid, I'd never do that to you."

He wiped a tear from his eye and looked at me, not sure what to say.

"I'm not mad," I said. "I wouldn't have left him with me either."

He smiled and we gathered up his thing and walked to my car.

When we arrived at my apartment Corey had this look of pure joy on his face when he saw his father. I knew for once I did the right thing. All the ways I screwed up Ricky's life, at least I didn't do the same thing with this kid. Calvin was like me in so many ways, he had left Charlie and Miguel, dropped off the face of the earth and tried so hard to start his life over, but in the end his past caught up to him.

Seeing Calvin and Corey together, I couldn't see him ever hurting that boy. I could tell he loved him, a kind of love I could never know. I looked at Ricky and realized his mother probably felt the same thing for him, that my love could never compare to that. Phil knew that, even if I didn't.

Calvin went into a clinic for three weeks. Phil watched Corey while he was away, by the time he got out, Ricky's mom got out too. I helped Ricky pack his clothes and I could tell he didn't want to leave.

"It's going to be okay," I said, giving him a hug. "I'll still be able to see you."

"I'll miss you," Ricky said.

"I know buddy," I said, "I'll miss you too, but you need to be with your mom."

"Will you come to see me," he asked.

"You know I will," I said.

Ricky's mother hugged me when she saw me. She told me I was a good man and that I saved her boy and saved her too, that if it wasn't for me, that she'd be dead. I told her that I did it for Ricky.

When I got back to my apartment I stared out the window and took out the picture I had of me as a little boy. I thought back to that first night on the streets, how I was so frightened, I couldn't sleep. I hid in an alleyway under a streetlight and cried. Some homeless guy found me and took me to a diner and bought me something to eat.

"Kid," he said, "You're not going to last out here if you keep doing this shit."

"What do you mean," I said, "I haven't done nothing wrong."

"You know," he said, "You're lucky it was me that found you and not someone else."

"I can take care of myself," I said, not able to look at him.

"Sure you can," he said shaking his head. "You need to go home kid."

"I can't," I said.

"Then at least go to the cops," he said. "They'll get you a home."

"I don't need a home," I said, "I can take care of myself."

The man looked at me and handed me ten dollars, then got up and started to walk away, but stopped.

"My names Carl," he said. "I stay down at the 5th avenue bridge. If you need anything, come down there okay?"

"Alright," I said.

"I can't give you anymore money," he said, "so don't spend that on candy or booze."

"I wont," I said.

"Good," he said and walked away.

The End