Date: Fri, 22 Nov 2002 00:38:55 -0800 (PST)
From: 13greengrass <13greengrass@ziplip.com>
Subject: El Gato

This is purely a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual people and
events is strictly coincidental. It is written for the enjoyment of men who
love boys and it is to them that it is dedicated. I welcome any and all
feedback on any of my work.

Other stories by Simon posted on Nifty:

Summer Camp Romance		May 5, 2002
Five Sessions With Francisco	May 11, 2002
Sitting for Jason		May 19, 2002
No More Bananas			May 26, 2002
Therapy for James		June 21, 2002
Little General			October 12, 2002



EL GATO

	I met Gato in the neighborhood in May when he was about ten years
old. He caught my eye immediately--a handsome, shirtless angel playing
basketball with a gaggle of other boys, most of whom were older than he. I
could see his dark little nipples on his bronze chest from across the
street, the muscles in his back as he leapt and twisted and reached for the
ball, the strong brown legs as he maneuvered to the net. I could have
watched him all day. I had just moved in. I was resting, sitting on my
stoop amidst the mountains of boxes, staring at these new neighbors the way
Adam must have surveyed Eden.
	On that first day, Gato didn't seem to notice me. An older boy
about fourteen years old stopped playing and gave me a long look. He was
slender and shirtless with a blue bandana on his head. I saw a trace of
hair in his armpits as he reached up and wiped the sweat from his face with
his forearm, smooth, lean belly rising and falling, out of breath. He
nodded and smiled and I waved back. He said something to the others on the
court and headed across the street toward me. The other boys, six of them,
followed, Gato dribbling the ball between his legs and chattering to the
others.
	"Que pasa?" the leader asked. I could see little rivulets of
perspiration snaking their way down his torso.
	"Como esta?" I asked. My Spanish was pretty shoddy but I knew how
to greet someone. I suspected that I'd have a lot of time to practice my
Spanish by moving into the Mission District in San Francisco, heavily
populated by Latinos.
	My friends who were helping me move came puffing out onto the
stoop. They stopped at the sight of this gang of boys looking as if they
were considering running back inside.
	"I'm Peter," I said brightly to the boys. I waved a hand at my
friends. "That's Travis and Valerie."
	The boy with the bandana nodded to us. "I'm Manny," he said. "I
live three doors down that way." He pointed down the block. "Ya'll livin'
here?"
	"Just me," I said. Travis and Valerie were still standing
speechless on the stoop. I looked over at Gato. He was even more beautiful
up close.  He had tucked the ball under his arm and was watching me with a
sudden interest. I spoke directly to him. "What's your name?"
	He hesitated as if he weren't sure I was talking to him, then he
blushed and looked down at his feet. "Gato."
	"Hey, Gato." I was trying to be inconspicuous. I couldn't take my
eyes off of him and chastised myself for ogling one so young. "Doesn't that
mean `cat' in Spanish?"
	"Yeah," he murmured.
	One of the boys, a head taller than Gato, nudged him and smirked at
me. "That ain't his real name though, which I could tell ya is..."
	Gato elbowed the boy. "Shut the fuck up, stupid."
	There were giggles all around.
	The other boys waved and announced their names, and although I
would get to know them all in the next years, on that day I didn't hear any
of them. I was too busy watching Gato pull the waist band of his shorts out
and in, out and in, cooling himself off, blowing down his shorts with the
most beautiful pursed lips I had ever seen.
	"Need some help?" Manny asked me, looking around at the boxes.
	I brightened. I was running out of steam and I knew that Travis and
Valerie had to leave shortly. We had been working for the last three hours,
lugging boxes and furniture from the rental van up the two flights of
stairs to my new apartment. "That would be great," I said. "If it's not a
problem."
	Manny shrugged. "No problem."
	Travis and Valerie took this as their cue to leave. We hugged
goodbye and I thanked them profusely, promising to buy them both dinner on
the following weekend.
	Three of the boys looked down and away, shaking their heads and
smiling uncomfortably, mumbling something in Spanish and knocking fists
together with the others. They wandered off, talking among themselves. The
four that stayed included Manny and Gato. Roberto and Javier were thirteen
and fourteen respectively. They all seemed to regard carrying the boxes as
some sort of competition with each other. They took great pains to
determine who could carry the most boxes in one trip and who could move the
fastest up the flight of stairs. They argued about whose load was the
heaviest.  Manny seemed very friendly and I began to wonder if he was
flirting with me. Every time I dismissed the notion, he would make a point
of brushing up against me or stroking his bare belly with his fingers as he
stood there in my bedroom. It was becoming distracting--Manny attempting to
capture my attention and me being still unable to pry my eyes from Gato.
	It was remarkable how quickly I got moved in with the boys' help. I
bought pizza, chips and soda for all of us and we sat among the boxes and
ate and talked. Gato had begun to notice my attention. As he sat eating
with his tee shirt casually draped over his bare shoulder, he favored me
with a smile, warm and dimpled, bashful and coy. He seemed unable to get a
word in edgewise as Manny dominated the conversation, commenting on my
furniture and on the apartment itself.
	"Juanita and Jorge used to live here," he said. "They was
crackheads.  Juanita used to trick for money." The boys didn't laugh at
this so I assumed he was telling the truth. It was a tough neighborhood to
be sure.  Manny fixed me with a wry grin. "You a crackhead, dude?"
	I chuckled. "No."
	He put his forefinger and thumb to his lips and made an inward
hissing sound, smiling at me knowingly. "Si?"
	"Si," I admitted.
	When the pizza was gone, Roberto stretched and stood, slapping
hands with me in farewell. "Gotta go, blood," he said through his tough
exterior. "Catch you later."
	On the way out, Manny lingered and Gato, curious, loitered between
Manny and the other boys, who were moving noisily down the stairs.
	"I can come back, sometime? Hang out?" Manny asked.
	"You?" I asked. "Yes." I looked over at Gato meaningfully. "You
too, Gato."
	Manny ignored this but Gato grinned broadly.
	"I can help with other shit too, if you want," Manny said. He
shrugged. "Just ask."
	It sounded like an innuendo to me. I thanked him and said
goodbye. As they left, I watched Gato all the way down the stairs and he,
craning his neck back and up, smiled at me all the way out the door.


	By September, I had become a fixture in the neighborhood. I got to
know the names of many on my street, particularly the boys and particularly
those who played basketball on the court across the street from my
building. Gato was among them. When the basketball games would end, he and
Manny would jog across the street to where I would sit on the steps of my
building, ostensibly to read or write, but actually to watch those
beautiful brown bodies glimmer in the sun and to catch a smile from my
beloved angel, Gato. I was becoming obsessed with him.
	Manny would plop down next to me on the steps, fanning himself with
his shirt, talking in his adolescent timbre, leaning into me to punctuate a
point. It had become obvious that he was flirting with me, and I was very
flattered, but he wasn't my type, really. At nearly fifteen, he was a tad
old for my tastes and high all the time. In me, he saw a potential paying
job, as he had on that first day, and also, apparently, a potential sexual
encounter. The more I resisted him, the more interested he became until one
day, with Gato standing there, he leaned over and put his lips very close
to my ear.
	"You gay?" he whispered with a leering grin.
	I didn't know what to answer. I wasn't in the habit of airing my
personal business to the neighborhood and I wasn't really all that
interested in Manny.
	"I might be," I said.
	He laughed knowingly and poked me. "That's cool," he said. "You
want me to come up to your place?" His eyebrows did a little dance above
his bloodshot eyes.
	Gato looked away as if trying to exclude himself from this
conversation. I shook my head. "No, thanks. Not now."
	"Later?" The boy was eager.
	I shrugged. "Maybe." I couldn't imagine being more noncommittal and
vague.  Manny pushed himself to his feet and we knocked fists.
	"Later, Homes," he said. "I'll catch ya later."
	That was usually how it went. Manny propositioning me in one way or
another and Gato pretending not to notice, then making some excuse for
having to go. After Manny left, Gato and I would talk. It started out with
sports--Forty-Niners and Giants-- and moved on to movies and television
shows. We both loved "The Simpsons" and would recount our favorite episodes
to each other, laughing and slapping our knees. Once he got to know me, he
was animated and funny, cracking jokes and teasing.
	"What's it like to have a name that means `dick'?" he once asked in
mock seriousness.
	"Not bad," I said. "What's your real name anyway?"
	"I ain't tellin'."


	By October, Manny often skipped the visit with me on the stoop,
smiling and waving to me as he and his friends ambled down the sidewalk in
the other direction. Gato continued to visit me. One day, as he was
crossing the street in my direction, Gato watched Manny's frantic wave and
broad smile, shaking his head and coming to a stop in front of me.
	"Hey," he said with a nod.
	"Que pasa?"
	"You know Manny likes you, right?" he asked.
	I wasn't sure what he meant but I knew what it sounded like.
	"Yeah."
	"I mean, `likes' you, you know what I'm sayin'?"
	"I know what you're sayin'," I said.
	"You ain't...?" He implied the rest of the question with a shrug.
	"I never said that."
	He studied me for a moment and when I didn't say anything more, he
settled in beside me on the stoop and began talking about school and his
math teacher, who, according to him, wore a different wig every day. "Like
we don't notice or somethin'," he chuckled.
	I was like a loyal fan, sitting in my spot, watching him play,
waiting for him to say his goodbyes to his friends and turn and head my
way. My heart skipped a beat every time he launched into a run across the
street, smiling and wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his
hand.
	"Don't you ever work?" he asked me once, settling in beside me.
	"Every day," I said. "I'm a writer so I make my own hours."
	"What do you write?"
	"Fiction," I said. "Mostly horror."
	"Cool," he said brightly. "Can I read some?"
	"Sure, I'll get you one of my books."
	Over time, he questioned me a lot about myself and I didn't mind
telling him anything. Seeing his open smile and his inquisitive eyes made
my head swim. One day, while he was sitting beside me on the stairs, I put
my arm around him and rested it on the step behind him, leaning back
casually. He noticed my arm behind him and leaned into me, settling in
against me, talking about the Forty-Niners game against Arizona. To feel
his warm body against me made me dizzy with bliss and I didn't hear a word
he said about Jeff Garcia's chances against the Arizona defense.
	I gave him a copy of my first book, "The Handless Angel", and
autographed it right there in front of him. "To Gato," I murmured as I
wrote. "You brighten my days.  Best to you, my boy, Peter."
	He took it and read it again, pronouncing out loud the words "my
boy" and smiling up at me.
	As the weather got colder and school progressed, it became less
common to see the boys across the street. This interrupted my plans
considerably. I didn't go out and sit on my stoop because I had no brown
bodies to watch, and so a week went by without a rendezvous with my beloved
Gato. I hadn't seen him since I had handed him the book.
	On the way home from getting groceries one day, I was accosted by
Manny, who appeared seemingly from thin air to sidle up beside me as I
walked down the sidewalk.  He was all smiles, bumping me with his shoulder.
	"Como esta, amigo?"
	"Bien," I said. "Et tu?"
	"Bien." He spun mid-stride and walked backwards in front of me,
pointing at the bags that dangled from my hands. "Need some help with
those?"
	"I got it," I smiled. "Thanks."
	"You sure?" he asked. He leered at me. "I can help you carry `em up
to your apartment and we can...hang out! I got some mota!"
	"Mota?"
	He nodded and mimed taking a long toke on a joint, his eyes
flashing at me.
	I hadn't had sex in far too long and Manny wasn't looking bad to me
at the moment, bundled in his hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans, grinning
from ear to ear. He was growing on me. He looked handsome, even sexy, but I
tried to remember the last time I saw him sober--any time I saw him
sober. I came up blank. I shook my head.
	"I got it," I said. "Thanks though."
	"Homes, you got a girlfriend or somethin'?" he asked.
	I gave a soft chuckle but didn't answer.
	"Boyfriend?" he asked. "Huh?"
	"That's a personal question."
	"Well, I'm a person," he said. "So it's okay to ask personal
questions, right?"
	I laughed. His charm was undeniable.
	"I could...ya know...take care of ya..." It was the first time I'd
ever seen him look bashful.
	"Thanks, Manny," I said. "I'm flattered but...well...probably not a
good idea."
	"Why not?"
	I changed the subject. "You seen Gato?"
	Manny shrugged. "He's around." We bumped fists and he gave me a
devilish grin. "Hasta luego, guapo," he said with a low growl.  He darted
away, off toward a knot of boys who had collected in front of the fruit
market.
	"Guapo"? I was quite sure that meant "handsome". He was becoming
more and more forward and I found myself becoming more and more tempted.
	The next day, I spotted Gato out on my steps, looking up at my
windows. I had no idea how long he had been standing there. I threw on my
jacket and took the stairs two at a time, bursting out into the cold air,
startling him.
	"Hey," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
	"What's up?" he asked. "You lookin' for me?"
	I was hoping that he was looking for me. I don't know if my
disappointment showed on my face, although I tried not to let it.
"...Well...it's been like...a week or two..."
	"Ten days," he said. "Manny said you asked about me."
	"I did." He had counted the days. These things didn't escape
me. "Did you read the book?"
	He grinned and nodded emphatically. "Scared the shit outta me,
man!"  He laughed from his belly. It was like music to me. It made me
laugh. "Got any more?"
	"Two more," I said. "Plus the one I'm writing now."
	"Can I get another one?"
	I nodded and pulled my jacket up around me. "It's cold," I
said. "You wanna come up?"
	The question sounded lurid to me, maybe because the idea of him
alone with me in my apartment so excited me. He looked a little shy at
first, then nodded.
	"Awright."
	That began regular visits in my apartment. The front door of my
building was often propped open in the day time so he would just bound up
the stairs and bang on my door.  Otherwise, he would ring my bell and
announce himself over my intercom in his boyish rasp.
	"It's me," he would say, as if he were the only one in the world I
waited for. He was, but he couldn't have known.
	We talked about my books, which he devoured at a relatively quick
pace, and I began reading chapters to him from my new one. Our bodies
seemed magnetically drawn to each other. Most of the time, I couldn't
pinpoint exactly when we had come in contact, primarily because as soon as
we saw each other, we felt connected, bonded, and that I would find him
melting into me never took me by surprise, although my body would twang and
flutter in every place where it touched his. My obsession with him grew and
by February, he was eleven and snuggling into me like a baby bear cuddles
its mother. I would pull his whole body to me and we would lie on the
couch, face to face, talking and joking. It felt so sexual to me. I was
hard and my hands would stroke his back and head and face. So close to him,
smelling his breath, feeling his voice vibrate against my chest, I wanted
to kiss him, but if I was anything, I was sensitive to him, and I never
picked up a signal from him that such a move would be welcome.
	I began leaving my apartment door unlocked, knowing he would be
over and he would enter as if he lived there. Five days out of the week he
was in my arms, entwined around me like an amorous vine, doing homework,
watching TV, talking.
	One day, I sat on my couch watching TV and was startled breathless
when Gato came flying over the back of the couch to land on me. He had
snuck in, soundlessly, and surprised me. He laughed uproariously at the
look on my face, at the yelp that exploded from me at the shock. My heart
was racing. He learned that if he did it every day, I would come to expect
it, so after some time, he learned to vary it and I never knew when to
expect it. I set myself up for it, of course, sitting on the couch with my
back to the door, because it always amused him and I would do anything for
that hoarse laugh of his which played upon my ear like the loveliest
music. He would lie in my arms, guffawing, holding his belly, throwing his
head back, and I would feign a heart attack.
	We cuddled on the couch nearly from the moment he entered the
apartment to when he left, just around dinner time. His body was becoming
familiar to me--the smell of it, the warmth, the contours of it that fit so
perfectly against mine. Once, I eased my hand up under his shirt, stroking
his back, and I felt his body stiffen, then relax. His eyes softened and
closed and he turned his face away from me.
	"Are you gay?" he asked in that moment.
	I was suddenly afraid that I had misread him, offended
him. "Sorry," I said, withdrawing my hand quickly.
	"S'awright," he said.  "Are you?"
	 "Yes."
	He settled back into me, relaxed and comfortable, looking up into
my face. "I'm not," he said. He wriggled in my arms and jerked his head
back to indicate my hand.  "That's okay, though. It feels good."


	I got the message. He was drawing lines and although I didn't want
to hear it, I kept my touches and strokes chaste and safely in the realm of
affection. There was something about his soft caresses, his yielding body,
his tender voice that made me think otherwise, but I trusted his words as
an expression of, if nothing else, his needs of the moment.  I was lovesick
and horny for him and heartbroken in my unreciprocated intentions. Lying
with him on these tactile visits, him crawling over me like a python, as if
he were trying to make every part of his body come in contact with mine all
at once, was so much but not quite enough. He would slip his fingers into
my shirt at the collar and toy with the hair on my chest or he would nudge
my jaw with his nose and laugh into my neck, sending shivers through my
whole body, and it was enough to lift me off the ground but not enough to
keep me from crashing earthward. He would touch my cheek so tenderly that I
thought for sure he would kiss me, only to lower his head onto my shoulder
and melt into me. Once, while I was sitting on the couch, he rose from his
place on the floor and knelt between my legs, his chest against my crotch,
and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me as tightly to him as he
could.
	He appeared to be in love too. The way he looked at me, the way he
touched me, the way he showed up every day at my door with the anticipation
of moving into my arms--was I wrong? Still, we remained chaste--me waiting
for him to show a sign and him standing, it seemed, on the precipice, his
toes hanging over, looking down into the bottomless abyss of sexual energy
that roiled between us.
	"What's your real name, Gato?" I asked him one day when were
cuddled so close on the couch that we were practically one body. He gave a
deep sigh, smiled, and somehow cuddled closer.
	"I ain't sayin'."
	"I hope some day you'll trust me enough to tell me."
	"I trust you," he said.  "I just ain't sayin'."


	In April, I saw Manny on the street. He was fifteen now and more
handsome than ever. When he saw me, his eyes brightened as usual and he
came racing over to me, tossing an arm around my neck, laughing jovially.
	"Amigo!"
	"How are you, Manny?"
	He was already standing very close to me, but he stepped even
closer. "I hear you're with Gato now, eh?" He smirked like he had the goods
on me.
	"'With' him?" I said.
	He nodded and winked at me.
	"Not like that."
	"No?"
	"No," I said. "Did he say that?" I was wishing.
	"No, but..." Manny shrugged. "He comes over `bout every day, dude."
	"Not for that."
	He grinned. "You sure?"
	"I'd know, wouldn't I?"
	Manny laughed. "That's cool," he said. "What about you and me then,
eh?"
	I tried to remember the last time I had sex and couldn't remember.
All the mashing sessions with Gato would end with him saying goodbye,
easing his body away from mine and out the door, and I would plop down onto
the couch and whack off with the smell of him still on me. I was only
human, after all, and with Manny standing so close to me I was beginning to
think with my cock rather than my head.
	"You and me?"
	"We could...ya know..."
	"What?" I was teasing him and he chuckled.
	"We could do...whatever, ya know?"
	I looked hesitant, I'm sure. My cock was thinking about sex with
Manny but my head was wondering about the wisdom of such a decision. I
didn't see a future with Manny. As if reading my mind, Manny dropped his
voice to a barely audible whisper.
	"I just want some fun," he said. "You and me, ya know?"
	"Just some fun?" I asked, latching onto that idea. "I'm not looking
for a relationship really."
	He snorted. "Dude, I hear you," he said. "I ain't into that shit. I
just wanna get down, ya know?" He wiggled his hips with a sultry and slow
swing, snapping his fingers, leering at me, dancing to a music in his
head. "Ya know?"
	I was horny but I'd been worse off. It seemed like Manny was
proposing a workable situation--no strings, no relationship. Just getting
our dicks wet and getting each other off. He still had that slender body,
less a boy but not yet a man. He licked his lips and smiled at me and I
heard myself saying, "All right. Come on."
	He followed me up to my apartment, staying close behind me up the
stairs, and while I was unlocking my door, he adjusted his hard cock in his
pants, moving from one foot to the other as if he were anxious to get
inside. We entered hastily.
	As I threw the deadbolt, he was unbuckling my pants and pulling on
the snap. He pulled the zipper down and reached inside, grabbing hold of my
hard cock. I leaned forward, my lips toward his, but he turned away
quickly.
	"I don't like that, Homes," he said.
	I was disappointed but not terribly surprised. I would have guessed
Manny as the type to depersonalize sex as much as possible. We were
establishing the ground rules for our arrangement and I had the choice of
rejecting them then and there, but I didn't.  Instead, I grabbed hold of
his pants at the belt buckle and pulled him further into the apartment. He
followed obediently, massaging my cock with his skilled fingers, moaning as
I worked on undoing his pants. I pushed them down to his ankles and his
hard cock popped out. It was rather large for his age with a petite bush at
its base. I took his hairless balls in my hand and stroked them slowly. I
pushed my own pants down to my knees and he took my cock in both hands,
pulling and squeezing it. I took his cock in my left hand and my right hand
found his ass, kneading each bun, sinking a finger down in the cleft to
find his hole. As soon as I touched it, he groaned out loud.
	"Fuck me," he rasped.
	I would be happy to. It appeared it's all he wanted--a quick fuck.
This was no romance, to be sure, and I saw no reason for pretense. I bent
him at the waist with my hand on the back of his neck, pushing my cock into
his mouth.
	"Make me wet," I said.
	He slurped and plunged down onto my cock, sucking with his lips and
tongue, pulling on my root with his hand. It was expertly done. I put my
finger into my mouth then rubbed his anus, gently at first, then more
aggressively as he grunted and groaned.  One finger slid in easily and two
were accommodated with little effort on his part. I was feeling extremely
randy all of a sudden. I pulled my cock out of his mouth and grabbed him
under the arms, shoving him rather roughly over the back of the couch,
pinning him with my hand on his back. He thrust his ass toward me.
	"Oh, yeah," he moaned.
	I pushed my cock head against the puckered hole and pushed. It slid
in easily at first but then he cried out in pain and I stopped.
	"You okay?" I was suddenly concerned.
	He nodded quickly. "Fuck me!"
	"I'll take it slow."
	"No," he hissed. "Fuck me hard."
	The arrangement had been defined. I thrust into him, heedless of
his cry, pushing myself deeper even though I could hear him yelping and
cursing, then turning back to look at me over his shoulder. "Yeah, Homes,"
he said. "Fuck me!"
	I fucked him hard and fast. As my cock rammed in and out of him, he
reached down and masturbated himself, panting like a dog, rambling on in
Spanish. My thrusts were so hard that we were moving the couch across the
room slowly, a little with every inward stroke, crumpling the rug
underneath. I was up on my toes, plowing into him. It didn't take long for
me to feel my orgasm approaching.
	"I'm coming," I said.
	"Yeah, yeah..."
	It was a vicious and artless fuck. It was a cock and an ass--as if
the people attached to these body parts were unnecessary to the
operation. As I gushed into him, huffing and puffing and grunting,
everything seemed to flow from my cock, from my balls, and as my orgasm
subsided, I found myself thinking about how I would get him to leave. He
was still pumping his cock madly. I pulled out of him and stepped back and
he turned around and fell back onto the couch, writhing, pulling his legs
up to expose his ass with my cum leaking from it. With one hand, he pounded
his own cock and with the other, he reached back to his ass, smearing the
cum over his hole, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick it. He spurted
onto his belly, throwing his head back so that it dangled off the couch,
his chest heaving, crying out. I stood and watched, partly interested,
partly indifferent, as if this scene were in a movie, far removed from my
life. My cock was nearly limp and still dripping as the last drops emerged
from Manny's cock. As he was catching his breath, I was handing him a
bouquet of tissues and pulling up my pants.
	"Wow," he sighed. He dabbed at his belly and his ass, wiping them
clean. "That was hot, dude!"
	"Glad you liked it," I smiled.
	He struggled to his feet and yanked his pants up, tucking his
still-hard cock inside.  I was already zipped and snapped up, pulling the
couch back across the floor to its proper place.
	"We redecorated the place, eh Homes?" he sniggered.
	"Indeed."
	I was still wondering what I had to do to get him to leave. I liked
Manny, make no mistake, but what little we had in common had just been
spent. He wasn't someone who I would hang out with although, as it turns
out, he was someone at whom I would throw a quick fuck. He could be, at
best, a quick fix--a methadone of sorts to assuage my addiction to my
heroin, my beloved angel, Gato.
	"I gotta run, dude," he said. Music to my ears.
	"Thanks," I said at the door.
	"Gracias," he said, grinning. "You got my phone number?"
	I didn't. He jotted it down quickly on a piece of junk mail and we
bumped fists.  "Adios, amigo," he said, and he was off down the stairs.
"I'm out of school every day at two fifteen!"


	Over the next couple weeks, Gato remained impervious to my little
gestures and hints. I held him in my arms and nuzzled him and tickled him
and he would stroke my chest and press his body against me, often getting
hard in the process. It all seemed like a screaming nonverbal sexual
language but when, on one occasion, I kissed him gently on the cheek, he
looked embarrassed and looked away.
	"Yo, dawg, I ain't gay," he said.
	"Sorry," I would add quickly, and I was. I was sorry that I kept
misreading him, sorry that I couldn't stop thinking about him like that,
sorry that he apparently didn't think that way about me. I was more sorry
than anything else. He would smile and snuggle closer.
	"S'awright," he would whisper.
	So in those weeks, I saw Manny nearly every other day. He got out
of school earlier than Gato so I would squeeze him in between two fifteen
and two-forty, knowing that Gato usually arrived just before three. I was
hoping to dispel some of my sexual energy with Manny so that when Gato
arrived, I would be able to contain myself more easily. It was impossible
to equate the wild fuck sessions with Manny with the sensual, loving
full-body experiences I was having with Gato, but I needed sexual release
and Manny was more than willing. He was downright ecstatic.
	Gato had no idea about me and Manny and we were careful to keep it
that way. I had made it clear to Manny that discretion was of the utmost
importance and he agreed. I didn't know how Gato would react to my
arrangement with Manny, and I didn't want to jeopardize what I had with
Gato, which was more precious to me than gold.
	Manny was a playful boy.  I would be ready for him, dressed in
nothing but a bathrobe and he would show up with some sort of game in mind.
	"Hey, doctor," he said once as he stepped inside the apartment. "I
came for my physical."
	I administered an extensive prostate exam and inserted an imaginary
suppository with my penis.
	One day, he came over and told me to frisk him.
	"I have mota on me, officer," he said. "But you have to find it."
	It wasn't hard to imagine where Manny had hid his grass. I made him
take off all of his clothes and when he squatted, it fell out of his ass
crack. Nevertheless, I made an extensive search there, probing inside the
smooth hole with a finger.
	"Please officer," he panted. "I cant' afford to get busted. I'll do
anything if you just let me go this time."
	I opened my robe and rubbed my hard cock against his crack. "Well,
there is something you can do," I said. "Now that you mention it."
	I bent him over and licked his asshole, which made him squirm and
pant, reaching back to spread his ass cheeks with his hands, allowing me
easier access. Five minutes later, my cock was imbedded in his ass, pumping
furiously, and ten minutes after that, I was spilling my cum into him while
he pounded his own cock with his fist. He would collapse when I pulled out
of him and beat himself off to a hasty climax. The whole thing took
approximately twenty minutes. We would small talk while he got dressed and
after he left, I hopped into the shower and was freshly scrubbed by the
time my Gato pushed his way silently through my front door and leapt upon
me like a mountain lion.
	One day, while we wrestled with each other on my living room floor,
I distinctly felt Gato's boner poking me in the ribs. I pulled him closer
to me with my arm around his waist and he humped me with little thrusts
that were meant to be subtle. I smiled into his face.
	"That a sword in your pocket?" I asked.
	He looked embarrassed immediately and shifted, still in my arms but
putting some space between the front of his pants and my body. I felt bad
for saying something.
	"Sorry," I said. "It's all right, ya know. I don't mind at all."
	"It gets hard sometimes," he said.
	"Perfectly normal."
	"I can't help it."
	"Perfectly normal."
	He eyed me thoughtfully. "Are you hard?"
	I thought carefully before speaking. "Yes," I said. "Perfectly
normal."
	"You keep saying that."
	I chuckled and looked into his eyes. "I don't want to make you feel
uncomfortable, Gato," I said softly. "Honest, I don't. But I'm hard most of
the time when I'm with you." I waved my hand quickly. "I know, I know,
you're not gay, but...I am."
	"You're gay for me?"
	Interesting way of putting it, but it was easy enough to answer.
"Yeah," I said.  "But don't worry, I don't expect anything from you in that
way."
	"I ain't gay."
	"You've said that many times," I said. "And I've heard it
everytime."
	"I've never done anything with a guy before," he went on. "With a
girl either. But I like a girl at school."
	"Cool." There was a silence that followed--awkward and
uncomfortable. I thought I had told him too much and now he didn't know
what to do with it. I untangled myself from him and got off the floor.
"Wanna see what's on TV?"
	"Sure," he said, happy for the out.


	One Friday, I met Travis and Valerie after they got off work and we
went out to dinner. I had told Gato the day before that I wouldn't be
around and he seemed cool with it. We had a wonderful dinner and had
several cocktails afterwards until we were all pretty drunk. We said our
goodbyes at about seven thirty and I clambered into the back of a cab. I
told the driver my address with a nearly unintelligible slur.
	On the way home, I found myself thinking about Gato. I'd gone a day
without seeing him before but, drunk and sentimental, I missed him
particularly then, anticipating the emptiness of my apartment. I let my
head fall back against the seat and I thought about his slender boy body
and the way it felt in my arms, the sweetness of his breath, the smell of
his neck and hair. It hurt and felt good all at the same time. I wanted him
in a way I could never have him. We had a loving and caring non-sexual
relationship and I knew that I had to come to a point where that was
enough. I wasn't there yet, I knew, and I wondered if I ever would
be. Sitting in the back of that cab, I pined for him and my body seemed to
be aching for the touch of him, seemed to be murmuring, in its own silent
way, his name.
	I paid the driver and stumbled out of the back of the cab and onto
the sidewalk in front of my building. I swayed and took a moment to steady
myself, not failing to catch the amused chuckle from the driver. I turned
and headed toward my stairs and was stunned to see Gato sitting there
watching me.
	"S'up?" he said.
	I stammered for a moment, a bit embarrassed at my lack of
coordination, and grabbed hold of the stairway railing. "What're you doin'
here?" I asked. "It's...it's..." I was trying to see my watch in the
streetlight.
	"Seven forty five or so," he said.  He giggled. "You're drunk,
aren'tcha?"
	"Yes," I said definitely. "Yes I am."
	"I've never seen you drunk."
	"Well, you aren't missing much."
	"Can I come up?" He was rising to his feet as I mounted the stairs
with some difficulty.
	They were the words I longed to hear more than any others. They
sang in my head like a band of angels. Seeing him reaching down to take my
elbow, helping me up the stairs, was so tender and touching--it was all I
dreamed about and all I wished would happen.
	"No," I said. "Not tonight, buddy." The words were as surprising to
me as they were to him.
	"Why not?"
	"I'm too drunk."
	"So," he said. "I've seen people drunk before. It's no big..."
	"It's just not a good idea," I said.
	"But why not?" he pushed. "I usually come over on Fridays."
	"But I'm not usually drunk."
	"So?"
	I was at the top of the stairs now. He was standing beside me,
looking up almost pleadingly. I was too drunk to think straight. I wanted
to take him up with me so bad that it scared me.
	"So," I said. "When I'm this drunk, I do dumb shit."
	"Like what?"
	"Like real dumb shit."
	"Like what, f'r'instance?"
	I wasn't too drunk to hesitate before I spoke. I wasn't too drunk
to imagine that what I was about to say might be a big splash in the little
pond that was our relationship. I was, however, too drunk to stop myself
from overflowing with my pent up desire.
	"I don't know if I have it in me right now, Gato," I said softly,
in a near whisper.  "To not touch you too much, ya know what I'm sayin'?"
	He blinked at me but gave no reply.
	"When I'm sober, I can keep those feelings at bay, but when I'm
like this..." I shrugged. "I'd probably wind up doing something that I'd
have to apologize for later. It's just too hard to hide my feelings when
I'm drinking. I'm sorry." I patted him on the shoulder. "Go on home and
I'll see you tomorrow."
	"But..." He didn't know what to say. He seemed to be trying to
stall me until he could think of something. "You don't have to...I
mean...we could just..."
	"I know how you feel about this," I said. "It's usually not too big
a problem for me, but it is when I'm like this, all right?" I unlocked my
door and pushed it open. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."
	I slipped inside before he could say another word. Even in my
drunken stupor I was quite sure that I'd said the wrong thing.


	The next day, he was at my door, out of breath, smiling, eyes
twinkling. "S'up?"
	"Hi," I said.
	He moved into me, wrapping his arms around my waist, squeezing me
tight. I stroked his forehead and hugged him back. He tilted his face up to
me and giggled.
	"You were wasted last night."
	I smiled and released him, meandering into the kitchen. He followed
me, prattling all the way.
	"You said some weird shit last night, do you remember?"
	"Of course I remember," I said. "And what was so weird about it?"
	He didn't seem prepared to answer that. He shrugged and looked
away. "I don't know."
	"Gato," I said, looking over at him very seriously. "I was wasted,
but I meant what I said."
	He nodded and looked uncomfortable.
	I poured two glasses of orange juice and handed him one. "You mean
too much to me to fuck things up."
	"You won't fuck things up."
	"If you'd come up last night," I said firmly. "I would've fucked
things up. Drunk people don't have the same sort of self-control that sober
people do."
	"Why do you need self-control?"
	I looked at him incredulously. Did he really ask that? Was he
really prepared to hear the answer? My mouth was hanging open and I was
staring at him.
	"What?" he asked innocently.
	"Do you really want me to answer that?"
	He nodded and took a drink of his juice.
	"All right." I took a deep breath. "Right or wrong, I'm hot for ya.
Blistering hot."  I looked over at him. "You with me so far?"
	He nodded and blushed.
	"I think about you all the time," I went on. "Like that, ya know. I
try not to but...."
	He was looking pained to hear the words so I stopped. I gave a deep
sigh. "You get the point?"
	He nodded and looked away. "Weird."
	"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable when you're with me."
	"I don't."
	"Good."
	"It's cool," he shrugged. "I ain't gay but...it's cool."
	"It has nothing to do with being gay."
	He gave me a curious look, then shrugged again and headed toward
the living room, clearly done with this topic and ready to move on. "The
Giants play Houston today," he said over his shoulder. "C'mon!"


	It was one sunny afternoon in June at around twelve-fifteen that
Manny showed up particularly energized. He knocked loudly on the door and
when I opened it, he bounded into the room in a pair of baggy gym shorts,
which he dropped at the door and stepped out of. He was wearing a jock
strap stuffed full of hard adolescent cock. He smiled devilishly at me and
slapped his bare buns.
	"Coach," he said. "You said you wanted to see me after class?"
	He was two hours early. I guessed that he was cutting class. I
thought about asking him about it but I couldn't take my eyes off his
smooth bare ass.
	"Yes," I said. I undid my pants and dropped them, stepping out of
them quickly.  As he walked past me, I gave him a resounding slap on his
smooth, slender bottom.
	He hooted, grabbing his ass, then smiled at me over his
shoulder. "Coach," he scolded playfully. "Stop that. What did you want to
see me about?"
	I dropped my underwear and kicked them off, my hard cock bouncing
in front of me. "Manny, I'm happy to have you in my gym class, but..."
	I pushed him down onto the floor, doggy-style. I knelt behind him
and ran my hands over his back and hips and buns.
	He laughed. "But what?"
	"I think maybe you need some extra work out," I said. I batted at
his upturned ass with my hard cock and poked his hole with my finger,
making him hiss and hum in his throat. He closed his eyes.
	"Oh, bien, si, sir" he murmured with a smile.
	He was rubbing himself inside his jock strap while I was spitting
on my cock, then dripping a splotch of saliva on his quivering hole. It
gaped of its own accord, spreading itself in anticipation of my
assault. Our routine was pretty fixed by now. It was a fun little lark for
Manny--an exercise for his libidinous imagination. It was a glorified
masturbation session for me--hot in the moment but leaving me strangely
empty afterwards. I plunged in with little fanfare and fucked him hard and
fast, rocking his body, holding onto the straps that came down around his
legs. Manny writhed and moaned and cursed in Spanish.
	When I came, I grunted and slammed into Manny's butt. He yelped and
came in his jock, bent over so that the top of his head was on the
floor. We jerked and spasmed for a while until we both settled into gasps,
trying to catch our breaths. He laughed with his mouth against the floor.
	"That was fuckin' hot, dude," he said. "Better than usual!"
	I hadn't noticed. "It was fun."
	His jock strap was soaked with cum. It looked terribly
uncomfortable to me, but Manny just shrugged and smiled as he pulled on his
shorts. "I'm goin' straight home anyway," he said. "I'll change then."
	"Why are you so early today?" I asked.
	"Half day," he said. "All the schools have half days today."
	He was turning to leave when it struck me. All the schools? "Even
the junior high?" I asked.
	He nodded. "Out at noon," he said. He waved and stepped out into
the hallway.  "Adios!" He took the stairs two at a time, the sounds of his
footsteps fading in the distance as I stood in the doorway, my head
suddenly crowded with thoughts. Out at noon? I closed the door. Gato was
out at noon? I turned away from the door and was startled to see Gato
stepping out from around the corner of the kitchen, his eyes fixed on
me. He looked very serious.
	We stood looking at each other for a long time before either of us
said anything.
	"I didn't know you were here," I finally said.
	He didn't answer. He looked hurt, nearly tearful, and I felt
guilty, although there was really no reason to. My sex life was my business
after all, and in fact, Gato had seemed to make it clear that he didn't
want a part of it. Nevertheless, I'm sure I was blushing.
	"Out early today, huh?" I asked.
	"Yeah," he said. His voice seemed to fall away, even before the
word was complete. He swallowed and walked slowly to the couch, easing
himself down. He looked pale, almost sickly.
	"I didn't know you were getting out early today," I said.
	He forced a smile. It was weak and out of place on his face.
"Teachers conference."
	I nodded. I went and sat next to him on the couch but didn't have
the nerve to touch him--to pull him into me like I usually did. He sat
looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I finally spoke to the point.
	"I'm sorry you saw that, Gato," I said. "I didn't mean for you
to...well..."
	"You and Manny do that a lot?" It was clearly a question but he
didn't look like he wanted to hear the answer.
	"From time to time," I said. "Why?"
	He shrugged.
	"Are you okay with it?" I asked.
	He shrugged again and shifted in his seat, not looking at me. We
sat in silence for a moment. He itched his nose, glanced over at me, looked
away quickly, tapped his sneaker on the floor. Finally, he spoke,
softly. "So is he your boyfriend now?"
	"No," I said quickly. "No. It's nothing like that. He just...we
just...well..."
	"How long have you two been...ya know..."
	"A couple weeks, I guess."
	He nodded but still seemed speechless. I touched him on the
shoulder.
	"You okay?"
	He looked startled for a moment, then he slid over into the nook of
my arm, back against my side, nodding but still not looking at me. "Yeah,"
he said.
	"You seem upset."
	He didn't answer. I put my arms around him and pulled him to me. He
complied but seemed absent, preoccupied, thoughtful.
	"Are you upset?"
	He looked up at me and blushed, almost smiled. He nodded and
shrugged at the same time. "Stupid, huh?"
	"No," I said.
	"I knew he liked you."
	"He's a horny toad," I said. "It's just sex."
	"You like him?"
	"He's okay," I said. "Yeah, I like him. But...he's no Gato."
	I felt the difference in his body then. It seemed to ease and
settle against me. He hugged one of my arms and pulled his feet up
underneath him. I could tell he hadn't said everything yet so I waited,
quiet and patient, just thankful to be holding him again.
	"He likes to get fucked," Gato finally said, almost as if he were
thinking aloud.
	"Yeah," I said. "That's about all he likes really. With me anyway."
	"He made a lot of noise."
	"He enjoys himself."
	I put my hand on the top of his head and pulled his head back so
that he was looking up at me. "Manny and me," I said. "It's not really a
big deal. It's all about sexual release."
	"You're horny?"
	"Nearly every moment of my life."
	He laughed at that and I pulled him up over my lap so that he was
sitting on the couch with his legs over my thighs. He looked me in the
eye. "I make you horny?"
	"More than you could ever imagine."
	He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "I'm skinny."
	"You're perfect to me."
	"I'm ugly."
	I poked him in the ribs. "Don't talk `bout my boy like that," I
growled. He wriggled and landed with a thump on the floor. My tickling
fingers followed him, chasing him across the room, catching him in the
kitchen and sending him laughing, sprawling on the linoleum. He pretended
to be trying to get away, dragging himself back into the living room. I
tackled him and his warm little body conformed to mine, wrapping his legs
around me, his arms looping about my neck. I was no longer tickling him. I
was cradling him in my arms, forehead to forehead, smile to smile.
	"Let go," he chirped playfully, suddenly pushing himself away from
me. "And close your eyes."
	I did as he instructed, closing my eyes and trusting him, expecting
some sort of practical joke. To my surprise, he kissed me. I felt his soft,
warm lips on the corner of my mouth, not quite on my lips but missing my
cheek. It was short and ended with a smack, then he bounded away from me,
laughing bashfully, looking down into my face as I opened my eyes
blissfully. A kiss. I could still feel it there on my face.
	Later, just before he left, as the credits rolled for a program we
had just watched on TV, he stretched with his arms up and back, his
cat-like body arched against the couch. He looked over at me earnestly,
very suddenly. "Manny's experienced, right?" he asked. "I mean...in doing
you know what."
	I nodded.
	"That's why you do it with him, right?"
	I nodded again. "Sexual release."
	He looked wistful, a little sad.
	"You don't want me to do it with Manny, do you?" I asked.
	He shrugged, smirked, then shook his head. "No."
	"It helps me to get that release so that I won't make you so
uncomfortable," I said.
	"You like doin' it with him?"
	"Well..." It sounded like a loaded question to me. It was something
in the way he asked it.
	"Just answer me," he said.
	"Manny and I just have a convenient arrangement," I said. "You
don't have to feel jealous of that."
	"Just answer me."
	"Yes," I said. "Obviously, or I wouldn't be doing it."
	"But he's not your boyfriend?"
	"No."
	It was nearly six, time for him to go. He was on his feet, pulling
on his jacket, heading toward the door, smiling and waving over his
shoulder.
	"I'll see ya tomorrow."


	Manny showed up the next day at his usual time. When I opened the
door, he stood there smiling at me, notable bulge in his pants and a bruise
under his left eye.
	"Hey!" He bounded past me into the apartment and began stepping out
of his shoes.
	"What happened to you?"
	He looked confused and pulled off his tee shirt.
	"Your eye," I said. "What happened?"
	He waved me away. "Nothin'," he said. "A punk just got a lucky
shot."  He yanked open his belt and unsnapped and unzipped his pants. He
was wearing a ragged pair of underwear underneath, white and stained
yellow, a small hole just right of his penis. He chuckled at me and dropped
his pants. "Found these old things at the bottom of my drawer. My mom told
me to throw them away but...I thought you might want to rip them off of
me."
	I shook my head and smiled. "Where do you get these ideas?"
	He pointed at his head, tapped his temple. "Just another toy in my
attic."
	He was clever and charming and full of surprises. He seemed to
regard me as game to just about anything, which proved that he was a pretty
good judge of character.  He stepped out of his pants and pulled his socks
off. Standing there in nothing but his raggedy briefs got my cock hard. I
dropped my robe onto the floor and he gave me a devilish leer.
	"Gotta catch me," he said.
	I looked around at my small apartment. "That shouldn't take long."
	"I hope not."
	He leapt over the couch and stood ready to dodge either way. I
started around one end and he went the other way, keeping it between us,
starting to laugh already.
	"You're slow, bitch," he taunted.
	I made a grab for him over the back of the couch but he darted away
and laughed at me, pointing, jeering. "Old mother fucker."
	"Old Manny fucker, you mean."
	He guffawed and stuck his middle finger up at me. I ran around one
end, doubled back and leapt over the couch, my fingers raking down his
back, pulling the briefs down over his ass as he slipped away. He ran into
the kitchen, whooping, yanking them back up. I had him cornered. I took on
a dramatic, menacing tone.
	"Little bitch," I snarled. "You wanna tease me?"
	I heard him giggle from the kitchen and the sound of furniture
moving. When I walked in, he had pulled the table out from the wall and was
standing with it between us.  He flipped me off again. "Come and get me!"
	I charged him, pushing the table back toward the wall, grabbing him
by the wrist as he attempted to escape by me. His feet flew out from
beneath him and he landed with a thud on the floor. I immediately broke
character.
	"You okay?"
	He frowned and smiled at the same time. "Be rough."
	"Huh?"
	"You heard me, you dumb pussy."
	I put on my best pissed off look and slapped him, tough but tender,
on the back of the head. "Get up, bitch!" I yanked him by the wrist and he
stumbled to his feet. I bent his arm back behind him and put my mouth to
his ear.
	"I'm gonna fuck you raw," I growled.
	"No!"
	"What?"
	He elbowed me. "I'm playin'."
	"Oh."
	S & M has never been my bag, but in the context of my hit and run
relationship with Manny, it sounded kind of fun. He was obviously into it
so I was willing to go along for the ride. I turned him and shoved him hard
onto the table. The whole table rumbled about a foot across the floor with
the impact and Manny grunted for real. I grabbed his briefs with my other
hand and pulled hard. The seat ripped out, exposing his buns.
	"Please, don't," he grunted, trying to sound like he was crying, in
distress. He was no actor. His sobs sounded like pure melodrama, void of
any true feeling. He sounded obviously more horny than afraid. "No, please
don't fuck me!"
	I kept a straight face and stayed in character, which I thought was
pretty impressive. He had obviously watched a few really bad porno
movies. I gave his bare ass a resounding slap that echoed in the
kitchen. He cried out in genuine surprise. I slapped him again and again
and he remained pinned to the table with my one hand. He cried out in fake
misery.
	"Ouch!"
	"Shut up, bitch," I said and slapped him again.
	It was my first S & M experience and guessed it would probably be
my last. His underwear hung in shreds, his reddening ass twitching. I spit
on my hand and rubbed it on his asshole, poking roughly with my finger,
pushing it nearly all the way in with just one thrust. He clenched his
teeth and moaned in what I guessed was real pain. Before he even had the
chance to adjust to one finger, I slipped in a second and pushed it in and
out.
	"Don't, please!" he emoted.
	I pulled my fingers out and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his
head back.  "Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up?" I asked.
	He nodded, sniveling, eyes closed. I shoved his head forward and
spat on my hand again. I stepped up between his legs as I wet my cock
which, to my complete surprise, was twitching with the anticipation. I
smirked at myself. Before that moment, I never thought I'd enjoy such a
scene.
	I entered him with little ceremony, still "holding him down" with
my hand on his arm, twisted across his back. He acted as if I was inserting
a two by four, pressing his face to the table, groaning. "Ohhhhh," he
whined. "No, it hurts! Please!"
	This is why I didn't like S & M. Did it really hurt?
Probably. Wasn't that what he liked? Usually. Yet hearing him speak the
words made me stop, hesitate. I slapped his ass and he jumped.
	"You want my cock, eh boy?" I snarled.
	"It hurts!"
	"But you want it, don't ya boy?" I slapped him again and he jumped.
	"Oh, it hurts!"
	"Tell me you want it."
	His whimper was unconvincing but he did his best. He shook his head
and I pushed inside a little further. He acted as if he was about to pass
out with the pain.
	"Tell me," I ordered. I slapped him again, harder than I had
intended, but he writhed and threw his head back.
	"Ohhhh!" It was loud and it echoed in the kitchen.
	I fell out of character again. "Shut up, dude, the neighbors will
hear."
	"Sorry."
	He moaned more quietly. "No, don't fuck me!"
	I fucked him. I rammed in and out as hard as I could, moving and
shaking the table with my thrusts, knocking a chair over with a bang,
slapping him on the ass from time to time for good measure. His whole body
rocked with the impact. I could feel my orgasm approaching quickly. I
grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, leaning over him to bite his
ear. He yelped in pain and let a laugh slip out. I bit again and he winced
and smiled.
	"Bueno," he panted quietly.
	I came in his butt. I groaned and held onto him like he was a horse
as wave after wave of cum exploded from my nuts into him. His fingers grew
white as they clung to the side of the table. My body twitched and finally
came to rest, lying on his back, trying to catch my breath. He was suddenly
wriggling beneath me, trying to get up. We both stood up and he turned
around and laid back onto the table, reaching into his tattered underwear
to grab his cock. I grabbed the fabric at the crotch and tore it open and
watched his hand pump and stroke his cock, his legs pulled up, cream
seeping from his freshly-fucked hole and onto the floor. He was cumming
very suddenly, shooting a long arc up and onto his chest, then another and
another. I was impressed with the sheer volume. When it was over, he lay
there quietly with his eyes closed for a moment, then opened one and looked
up at me, smiling broadly.
	"Dude," he snickered. "That was so cool." His bottom was red from
the spanking.  I pinched it gently.
	"You're an interesting boy, Manny," I said. "What makes you like it
so rough?"
	He shrugged and grinned. "I like everything rough."
	 "Is that how you got that?" I indicated the bruise below his eye.
	He shook his head. "No, I told you, punk got a lucky shot."
	"Who?"
	He rolled up and onto his feet, his tattered briefs dangling off
him like a crooked loincloth. "Gato," he said. "The little prick."
	"Gato?"
	I followed him out into the living room. He grabbed some tissues
from the end table and began wiping his ass. "Yeah, I don't know what his
problem is. Out of nowhere, he just punches me." He shook his head. "Took
off running. I'll get him."
	"He didn't say why?" I asked. "He just...punched you?"
	He nodded.
	"He didn't say anything?"
	He shook his head. "I'll catch him later."
	"Manny, don't," I heard myself saying. "Let me talk to him."
	"Fuck that. He punched me!"
	"Just let him go this once," I plead. "For me, Manny. Just this
once."
	Manny was looking at me suspiciously as he pulled on his pants,
stuffing the remnants of his briefs inside. It looked very
uncomfortable. Sperm was dripping off his chest and I reached over with
another tissue and dabbed at it.
	"He know about us?" he asked.
	I wished he hadn't asked. "Yes," I said. "Yesterday, he came in
while we were doing it. He hid in the kitchen."
	He snickered. "He's jealous."
	"I don't know."
	Manny laughed and shook his head, pulling his tee shirt on over his
head. He plopped down on the couch and started pulling on his socks.
	"You and him?" he asked. "Are you...?"
	"No."
	"You don't want to?"
	"He says he isn't gay."
	"Well then, why the hell does he care?"
	"I don't know," I said. "Let me talk to him."
	Manny looked unconvinced. His pride and reputation was at stake, I
knew. He pulled on his other sock, stepped into his sneakers, knelt down to
tie them. All the while, he looked like he was just about to say something.
When he tied his second shoe, he gave a deep sigh and stood up, looking at
me.
	"He's a little shit."
	"I know."
	"He's hot for you, Homes," he said. "He just can't admit it."
	I wished and hoped that he was right. "He's confused."
	"You got that right." Manny was heading toward the door. "Muy
loco."
	I needed to get him to promise that he wouldn't seek revenge. "Just
do me this favor, Manny," I said. "Just this once. If he does it again,
I'll stay out of it. Just this once, okay?"
	Manny sighed heavily again, reached for the door, paused and looked
back at me.  "Awright," he said. "Just this once. But only if you agree to
tell him one thing for me."
	"Okay."
	"Tell him I said he's in love with you."
	He swung the door open and left.


	Gato showed up at his usual time as well. I entered nonchalantly
and gave me a warm hug, rambling on about a history test that he was sure
he passed, pouring himself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch which I kept in my pantry
just for him. He poured milk into the bowl, sloshing it over the sides and
onto the table.
	"I was just in the zone, man," he said. "Thanks for helping me
study."
	"No problem," I said. "Anything else happen today?"
	He shook his head and shrugged. He placed the milk back into the
fridge and sat down at the table, stirring his cereal with his spoon. "I
can't wait `til school is out."
	"Nothing else important happened today?" I asked again. He gave me
a suspicious look, then looked as if he thought he might know to what I was
referring. He chewed slower and looked down into his cereal, looking a
little embarrassed. Still he said nothing. He shook his head to my
question, milk dripping down onto his chin.
	"Manny was over today," I said.
	"So?" He was sounding defensive.
	"So he told me what happened," I said. "He said you punched him for
no reason at all."
	He spooned in more cereal and chewed silently, glancing over at me
only once.
	"Is that true?"
	He shrugged. "Maybe," he said with his mouth full.
	"Manny wanted to beat the snot out of you."
	He gave a carefree shrug. "So?"
	"So I talked to him and he agreed not to do that," I said.
"Providing I give you a message."
	"I don't need you to protect me."
	"You need someone to protect you if you're going to go around
starting fights with the likes of Manny," I said. "Not a very smart move."
	"I ain't scared of him."
	"According to him," I said. "You ran like you were."
	He didn't say anything. He scooped two more heaps of cereal into
his mouth, his cheeks bulging. He chewed voraciously.
	"You ready for the message?" I asked.
	He was bent on acting unconcerned. He jerked a shoulder.
"Whatever."
	"Well," I started. "Manny seems to think that you're jealous."
	"Pull-ease."
	"He says that you're in love with me."
	He almost denied it outright, but he paused a second, then
swallowed the mouthful of food. He didn't look at me, but all his energy
was suddenly directed toward me, as if he were reaching toward me in the
dark. He poked at his cereal with his spoon. I wasn't about to speak and
disturb this pregnant pause. He had already spoken with his silence. I
wondered what more he would have to say.
	"He should mind his own fuckin' business." It was such an odd
response. I didn't know what to do with it. He gave a deep sigh. "I hate
him."
	"Because you saw us yesterday?"
	"No."
	"Yes."
	"You don't know!"
	This was true, but I was getting more and more certain.
	He took a brisk bite of his cereal, then tipped the bowl up to his
mouth to drink the milk. He stood up, tossed the bowl into the sink, and
wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You want me to leave?"
	"I never want you to leave."
	He was suddenly taken aback. His eyes softened and he leaned back
against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest. "I don't like him
anymore."
	"Because of what he and I are doing?"
	I didn't expect him to be honest with me, but he nodded and looked
at the floor.
	"You don't have to be jealous, Gato," I said. "He's just a sex
partner, that's all. A sex partner and a friend."
	"And what am I?"
	I smiled tenderly. "My angel."
	He looked startled by the word and he gave me an offended look.
"Manny tell you to call me that?"
	"What?"
	"Angel?" he said.
	"Jesus Christ, Gato, no," I said. "I just...I'm just trying to say
that you're my number one."
	"Well then call me that," he said. "Not your `angel'." He made the
word sound nasty.
	"Why not?"
	"Because I said so!"
	He was suddenly angry and I had no idea why. "Awright," I said
gently.  "Awright. I'm sorry."
	He looked miserable and suddenly walked out of the kitchen, into
the living room.  When I came in, he was sitting on the couch with his feet
underneath him, chewing a fingernail thoughtfully. It looked like he wanted
to say something but couldn't find the words. I plopped onto the couch
beside him and he looked at me. His eyes were so soft and vulnerable.
	"You hate me?" he asked.
	"I love you," I said, and he looked as if the words had injured
him. I touched his shoulder lightly and he turned to me, moving closer,
leaning forward and touching his forehead to my chin.
	"You should hate me," he said.
	"I could never do that."
	He lowered his head down onto my shoulder and I pulled him onto my
lap, cradling him sweetly against my chest. I had, contained in my arms,
all that made me happy. He snuggled against me, not speaking, and I stroked
his forehead and cheek with my thumb, smelling his hair, fighting off the
urge to kiss him on the nose. I had never seen him so passive in my arms,
so willing to absorb all the tender energy I had for him.  He soaked it in
with a deep sigh, groaning softly with the pleasure, eyes closed.
	"This is nice," he said into my neck.
	"Yes."
	"Is sex like this?" he asked. "Except you're naked when you do it?"
	"They aren't dissimilar," I said. "This is cuddling, sex is sex,
but both should be done with the same kind of tenderness and love." I
kissed him on the temple and he didn't object, as I somehow knew, in that
moment, he wouldn't.
	"I've never done it before, ya know."
	"I know." He felt the need to point that out a lot, I noticed. He
apparently felt it was important for me to keep in mind. "I would never ask
you to if you weren't ready."
	"I've just never done it before."
	"That's normal," I said. "You're young."
	"Too young?"
	"Too young to be expected to know about it."
	"Too young to do it?"
	I shook my head. "Not too young to decide if you want to."
	His body relaxed a little more, which I hadn't thought was
possible, and he gave another pleasant sigh. His fingers played with my
collar, then slipped down to the hair on my chest. He fingered it. "You
have hair like this all over your body?" he asked.
	"Just about."
	"On your stomach?"
	"Uh-huh."
	"On your legs?" he asked. "On your you-know-what?"
	"Si."
	"Oh," he said. "That's cool."
	It seemed like he was doing research, interviewing me, wondering
about what sex with me would be like. Was I just wishfully thinking? He was
curious and nervous. I held him and stroked his back under his shirt. We
sat like that for a long while and the silence was only interrupted with
Gato saying, very softly, "Sorry."
	"For what?"
	"For punching Manny," he said. "It ain't his fault, I know."
	"Well, thanks for the apology," I said. "But you should really be
apologizing to Manny."
	He didn't respond to that. Obviously, the prospect sounded
dangerous to him.
	"I'll break it off with Manny," I said suddenly, stroking his
forehead. "I don't want to hurt you anymore."
	He sat upright and looked at me sincerely. "Really?"
	I nodded. "I can live without Manny," I said. "I can't live without
you."
	He looked unsure. "Are you sure?"
	"Manny is a good friend," I said. "That's all he needs to be."
	"You don't have to..."
	"Right," I said. "I don't have to. I'm choosing to. I don't expect
you to change at all, Gato. I'll be happy to just hold you like this. I can
love you completely if I can hold you like this."
	"What are you gonna tell Manny?" he asked. "Won't he be mad?"
	"I don't think so," I said. "I'll tell him tomorrow."


	To be honest, I wasn't at all sure how Manny would take it. He
showed up, as usual, with his pants stuffed full of hot, hard, excited teen
cock and he wasn't in the door ten seconds and he was already kicking off
his shoes. I stopped him.
	"We have to talk," I said.
	"After."
	"No," I said. "Now."
	He looked a little uneasy. Intimacy wasn't Manny's thing and
talking had never been part of our thing. It had always just been about the
sex. I motioned him to the couch where he went and sat down, looking up at
me. He seemed to be just noticing that I was fully dressed--not in the robe
that he had become accustomed to. He gave me an expectant look.
	"Manny, I've enjoyed our little...relationship," I started. That
wasn't a lie, entirely. I enjoyed it. I just could live without it. "But I
want to break it off. I mean...I wanna stop."
	"Why?" He didn't seem angry.
	"It's a long story."
	He hunched his shoulders and put his hands out, palms up. "So?"
	It was so much that it was a long story. It was a confusing story.
I searched for the words, had a few false starts, then plopped into the
chair across the room.
	"Is this about Gato?" he finally asked.
	I nodded apologetically. "He's just so jealous of you," I said. "He
didn't ask me to break this off. It was my idea. I just don't want to hurt
him."
	Manny looked utterly perplexed, as if I were suddenly talking a
different language. "So he's gonna...ya know...put out?"
	"No," I said. "That's not what I expect. I just don't want to hurt
him, and if he ever does want to...you know...I want it to be because he
wants to, not because he feels he has to compete."
	Manny looked further confused. "What do I have to do with that?" he
asked. "We ain't boyfriends or anything like that, like you and him."
	It was nice to hear Manny call us that. It was how I felt but not,
I suspected, how Gato felt. "I know," I said. "It doesn't make a lot of
sense, but that's how I feel." I gave him an apologetic look. "Are you
mad?"
	He shook his head and gave me an odd look. He pulled at his cock
through his pants. "I ain't mad," he said. "Whatever."
	"Good."
	He grinned devilishly. "One last time, though?" He squeezed himself
lewdly.
	"Sorry," I said.
	Manny shook his head slowly and whistled through his teeth. "You
got it bad, amigo," he said. "You got it bad. And little chico has it bad
too. I know he wants it but he don't know how to go about gettin' it."
	I was sure he was wrong about Gato. I had opened up every door if
he wanted it and he had never done anything about it. He was just a boy,
just eleven. I shouldn't be surprised or disappointed. Maybe when he got
older...
	"Awright, amigo," Manny said suddenly, rising to his feet. "I hear
ya. It's crazy, but I hear ya."
	"Thanks, Manny," I said. "And I'm sorry."
	"No problem."
	He left with a handshake. I watched his shapely ass as he walked
out the door, his hips as they swiveled around to take the first step down.
He waved as he skipped down the stairs.


	Gato was late that day, which worried me some given the
conversation we had had the previous day. Were the emotions between us just
getting too intense for him? I sat on the couch trying to watch TV but
thinking and worrying until nearly three thirty, a half hour later than
usual, the soft knock came at my door.
	I leapt to my feet and tried to look nonchalant as I opened the
door. To my utter amazement, there stood Gato with Manny beside him. Manny
was smiling broadly and Gato had a bashful, nervous look on his face. I
must have looked confused because Manny laughed at me and guided Gato into
the apartment with a firm hand on his shoulder.
	"S'up, Homes?" Manny asked me.
	Gato wasn't looking at me but was acutely aware of me standing
there.
	"What's goin' on?" I was impatient for an explanation but Manny
shrugged with a casual disregard.
	"Not much," he said. "Little Homes here and I were just talkin'."
	"Really?"
	I looked down at Gato. He gave me a sidelong glance, then looked
away again.
	Manny closed the door behind him and walked in like he owned the
place. He had become quite comfortable with waltzing in and making himself
at home, and this was no exception. He plopped onto the couch with his
hands behind his head, his legs out straight in front of him, crossed at
the ankles. He smiled like he was the only one in the room who was in the
know. This was probably because he was.
	Gato moved slowly, cautiously, into the room and perched daintily
on the arm of the couch. He looked as if he had never been there before. He
was smirking but still not looking at me. I sat in the chair opposite
Manny. I cleared my throat.
	"Talking about what?" I asked.
	Manny gave Gato a tentative look, then smiled over at me. "You two
look like you need a little help," he said confidently. "That's what I'm
here for. I figure I gotta either help or beat the shit outta little Homes."
He touched the bruise under his eye meaningfully. "So I figured I'd help."
	"Help how?"
	"Little Homes?" he said suddenly, looking at Gato as if he expected
the boy to speak. Gato smiled to himself and looked down at the floor, up
at me, smiled more broadly, then down at the floor again.
	"Gato's got Gato's tongue," Manny joked.
	We all laughed. Gato rubbed his eyes nervously, stammered out a few
meaningless syllables, then shrugged and looked at Manny. Manny shook his
head and clicked his tongue.
	"Ya want somethin'," Manny told him, with earned authority. "Ya
gotta ask for it."
	Gato looked like he wanted to say something but the words had all
been caught in his throat. He shook his head and covered his smile with his
hands.
	Manny looked at me directly but spoke to Gato. "Awright," he said.
"I'll get this started but you gotta finish it." He took a deep breath and
spoke plainly. "Gato wants to experiment."
	Gato giggled, embarrassed.
	"Right?" Manny asked him, and Gato nodded, looking at me then
looking away.
	"So, we was talkin', him and me, right?" Manny went on. "And I was
like, `dude, if you ain't gonna do him, you're crazy. He's crazy `bout you'
and Gato was all like, `I ain't never done it before'."
	"Yeah, he's told me that before," I said.
	"Right," Manny said. "That's what he told me. He said he ain't
never said `no', but you just don't go no further."
	My brain seemed to suddenly stutter and misfire. "Huh?"
	"He said you start shit," Manny said. "But you never finish it."
	"But he said that..." I stopped and tried to remember a time when
Gato had actually told me "no". If he had actually said, "stop. "He
said...well, he always says that..." I stopped and thought about it. "He
always says that he isn't gay," I said. "When we're...ya know...starting in
that direction..."
	"I ain't gay," Gato blurted.
	Manny laughed. "Me neither, little Homes." He winked at me.
	I was lost. "I just thought..."
	"Stop thinking, Brainiac," Manny said, seriously but with a smile.
"Little Homes don't know shit about sex." He looked over at Gato. "Dude,
you gotta whip your dick out and tell him to teach ya. You know he wants
to."
	Gato was so embarrassed that he looked like he would crawl under
the couch. He laughed and covered his face, turning away from us. I sat
stunned in my chair. All that careful reading of him turned out to be
ignorant misreading.
	"He has to say he wants to," I said. "Before we can do anything.
It's important to me that I know he wants it...that I'm not pushing it on
him."
	Manny nodded amicably. "That's cool," he said, and he threw a
playful slap at Gato's back. "He'll do that, right Homes?"
	Gato nodded without turning around. Manny looked over at me.
	"Why do you want him, all bashful and shit, when you could have
me?" he asked.  He was smirking, joking, but Gato turned quickly and gave
me a hard look, questioning.
	"I love him," I said.
	Manny scoffed and stood up. "Don't talk love to me, Homes," he
said. "Love is for housewives." The sentiment summed up Manny perfectly. He
took a firm but gentle hold of Gato's sweatshirt and pulled him to his
feet, facing me. For the first time since he had arrived that day, Gato and
I looked into each other's eyes and connected. It was only for a moment
before he looked away.
	"I'm gonna get ya'll started," Manny said. He reached down and
pulled off Gato's sweatshirt. It looked as if they had prearranged this on
some level for while Gato looked quite shy, he raised his arms to allow
Manny to pull it off, then kept them up so that Manny could pull of his tee
shirt as well. Bare-chested, he blushed all over. I sat speechless in my
chair, looking up at him. Manny was rambling on, talking to Gato as if he
were advising him on his wedding night, talking about me as if I wasn't in
the room.
	"Dude likes ass, I can tell ya, but not just fuckin' it. He'll rim
you `til you're `bout ready to die of pleasure." Manny reached around from
behind Gato and unbuckled his belt. Gato looked away, off to the side,
nervous but listening to Manny, conscious of me staring at him, soaking him
up with my eyes.
	"Dude likes to kiss too," Manny went on. "If you're into that sort
of thing. If you can't take it up the ass, you better learn how to suck
cock because he likes to be taken care of, ya know what I'm sayin'?" He
nudged Gato and the boy nodded, still smiling to himself. Manny pulled open
Gato's pants in the front and pulled them down, past the knees. Gato
stepped out of each pantleg and stood there in his socks and boxers.
	"Take off your socks, dude," Manny admonished. "You look like a
dork."
	Gato reached down with two single graceful movements and pulled off
each sock.  My head was swimming at the sight of him. Manny gave me a look,
that game look he always got when he had some fantasy in mind.
	"Stand up, Homes," he said to me.
	I knew what he wanted to do, but it seemed so absurd. Manny was a
natural role player. He loved those kinds of games. I wasn't as comfortable
with them. They tended to feel silly to me--posed and artificial.
Nevertheless, the idea of being undressed by Manny, standing in front of my
beloved Gato, absolutely inflamed me. There was no explaining what happened
to my inhibitions in that moment. They just seemed to disappear. Gato was
looking at me with some surprise. Apparently the two of them hadn't
discussed this part of Manny's plan.
	"C'mon, Homes," Manny prodded, reaching down to me. "Stand up."
	I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. Gato went from being
unable to look at me to being unable to take his eyes off of me as Manny
reached up and unbuttoned my shirt, talking to me as if Gato were in the
other room.
	"Little Homes ain't never been fucked, right?" he said, not
expecting me to reply.  I was speechless anyway. "So go easy on him if
you're gonna go there. I bet he don't like it hard and rough like I do.
He's lovey-dovey like you are." Manny snickered and pushed my shirt off
over my shoulders. I was staring at Gato staring at me. Manny was working
on my belt buckle. "Somethin' tells me he'll like kisses and I'm bettin' he
likes to be tickled too. Probably makes him all hard and shit. I done it
with my cousin a few times-- that age--and they need a lot of teachin'.
They drag their teeth all over your business if you don't give `em lessons
on good blow jobs." He yanked on my pants, pulling them down, and I stepped
out of them. I reached down and pulled off my socks before he had a chance
to call me a dork. Gato was hard in his boxers, pushing it around with his
hand, trying to hide it, bending at the waist. The cool air on my skin, the
presence of them there, surveying me, made my own cock stir and Manny
looked down at it with a smile.
	"I'll miss that," he said, tweaking it, then he looked over at Gato
and playfully slapped him on the forehead. "It's all yours now, little
Homes."
	Manny walked toward the door, talking to us over his shoulder. "My
work here is done," he said. "The rest is up to you. If ya'll can't handle
it from here, then ya'll are dumb as bag of hammers." He opened the door
with a flourish and stepped into the hall.  "Adios!"
	"Thanks, Manny," I said quickly. I looked over at Gato and gave him
an expectant look.
	"Thanks," he murmured.
	Manny laughed and closed the door behind him. We could still hear
him laughing in the hallway and as he went down the stairs.
	Gato and I stood looking at each other, our boners fighting to get
free. He was radiant--flat belly, straight, strong legs, slender hips with
his boxer creeping down around them. I stepped closer to him until we were
just inches apart. His eyes traveled up and down my body. Not touching him
was a strangely painful pleasure, almost unbearable yet heightening my
awareness of him, of his little body, his nipples staring at me, his young
cock disturbing his shorts. He reached up first, touching me on the belly
with one hand, moving it up across my chest then down again to my belly
button. I put my hands on the sides of his head, tenderly, and leaned over
to kiss him on the top of the head. He tipped his head back slightly and I
kissed him on the forehead. Back a bit more and I kissed him on the nose.
He craned his head back and our lips met, softly, several little pecks,
warm and gentle. He reached his arms up and around my neck, pulling me
down, pulling himself up into my arms, legs around my waist, my hands on
his rump, holding him up. We kissed again. I felt his tongue move against
my lips and I let him in.  The boy knew something about kissing.
	We moved slowly, like a sweet dance, into the bedroom, moving side
to side to an internal music, taking our time to get to my bed where I
gently laid him down and lowered myself on top of him, stroking his body
from head to knees, up between his legs to that raging lump in his boxers.
I tweaked it softly and he moaned. It was fair-sized for his age but not
big. It was remarkably stiff, like a steel rod in his underwear. We began
to roll around on the bed then, me on top then him on top, pulling at each
others boxers until they were dislodged, down our legs, kicked off into
different directions. Completely naked, I pulled him to me, feeling the
silken flesh of him against me, against my cock.  His body was so perfect
in my hands--the contours of his belly and chest, the strong crevice that
ran down his back between his shoulder blades, the breathtaking curves of
his hips and ass and thighs. He reached down in one assertive moment and
took a firm hold on my cock, pulling it and squeezing it, slipping down to
finger my balls. His hands were so soft and warm. His hot breath on my
neck, his lithe hips grinding against me, his perfect buns in my hands. I
was delirious. He was making little purring noises, punctuated by small
grunts and groans, eyes heavy-lidded with passion, looking into my face,
almost smiling, almost crying. I peppered his face with kisses. He kept
working on my cock, stroking it gingerly, pumping it and showing some
knowledge of masturbation.  Obviously, he had done it to himself.
	I rolled over on top of him and began to kiss him, first on the
mouth, then on the chin and cheeks, down over his neck, nibbling, making
him squirm and giggle, tickling him. I knew Manny was right about Gato
liking to be tickled but I hadn't been aware that he found it sexually
stimulating. As I licked and nibbled his ears and neck and collarbones, he
writhed beneath me, thrusting his hard cock against me, laughing, pulling
and pushing me, to and away from his neck, tilting his head back to allow
me easy access, pulling his chin down to protect it. All the while, his
naked body thrashed and bucked in my arms and I cupped his ass in my hands
and held onto him. I moved down to his chest, dashing my tongue into his
arm pit. He guffawed. I held his arm up and attacked the hairless pit
mercilessly and he squealed and thrashed on the bed, yet when I finally
released his arm and moved away from his armpit, he raised his arm again,
invitingly, smiling down at me, eyes alight. I attacked again and he
whooped and hollered until I feared the neighbors would hear.
	I walked down his body with my mouth, licking and nibbling, and he
lay there, surrendering to me and my curious journey. I traveled down one
leg to his toes, which I sucked one at a time, each one eliciting a murmur
or a snicker. I moved to the other foot, licking and tending to each toe,
down over his arch, around and back up his leg, scuffed knee, soft thigh.
He was a twitching bundle of nerves, covered with a thousand little hot
spots and erogenous zones and I relished finding each one with my tongue
and lips, sending him swooning and laughing and squirming on the bed.
	By the time I reached his cock, it was twitching and a tiny drop of
precum was formed on its tip. It was a beautiful sight to behold. It looked
so ready, so pleading, so desperate--a delicate trigger that would make him
explode. I ran my fingers over his soft balls, pulling on them tenderly. I
nudged his cock with my nose, smelling him, the aroma of my boy. It was
intoxicating and I knew right then that I was addicted. I flicked my tongue
on the underside, up toward the head, and Gato gave out a moan low in his
throat.  I swiped at the little organ with my flat tongue, swathing it all
over. Gato stopped breathing. When I sucked it into my mouth, his whole
body trembled, his legs spread slightly, and he murmured, "Ohhhhh, fuckin'
yeahhhhh."
	Such poetry from my boy.
	I began to suck him gently with a swirl of my tongue, my fingers
stroking his balls, pushing his thighs apart further. He grabbed my head
with his hands and encouraged me to move faster. I did until we were
bouncing on the bed, his little piston thrusting in and out of my mouth. I
put my hands behind his knees and pushed his legs up and apart, exposing
his little hole to my soon-to-be-invading tongue. Manny's little primer had
served us well. He seemed happy to have me continue sucking his tool but
seemed equally happy with the prospect of trying this rimming idea. I
licked a finger and rubbed it over his hole. He shivered and purred. I
tickled him there, poking in slightly, rubbing across it. His hips jerked.
Convinced that his curiosity was properly whet, I released his cock and
trailed my tongue southward, over his wrinkly ball sac and down into the
crevice to his hole. I poked at it with my tongue, then began to suck and
lick at it voraciously, sticking my tongue inside, wiggling it. Gato panted
and grunted.
	"Oh, shit!" he hissed.
	I slurped at his butt, pushing it up to meet my face, and he
grabbed hold of his legs behind the knees and pulled them up as far as he
could, encouraging more. Gato had a hot hole, I discovered then, but while
we might one day get to fucking, it wouldn't be that day, our first day. It
would be something we'd work toward, perhaps. I made my way back up to his
cock and he seemed more than happy to go back to that, thrusting his dick
in and out of my mouth, bouncing on the mattress, huffing and growling.
With his butt wet and slippery, I took the opportunity to wet my finger and
slowly slip it inside, just to the first knuckle. Gato seemed oblivious at
least, accepting at best, and my finger slid in a bit more to the second
knuckle. I wiggled it inside him and he threw back his head and shouted
out.
	"Fuck! Fuck!"
	He was fucking my face and I was fingering his hole and the little
boy just careened over the edge with a concoction of grunts, moans,
thrashes and whimpers that gripped him like a seizure. He twitched and
bucked and trembled all over and I felt a little splash across my tongue.
His cock was jerking in my mouth, spasming and flailing, spilling his
seed. After quite a show of it, he collapsed back on the bed, arms out to
his sides, chest rising and falling, grabbing for air, his eyes closed as
if tumbling into a euphoric sleep, mouth slightly open. He looked drunk, I
remember thinking. When he opened his eyes, they were crossed and unfocused
and he shook his head briskly to clear it.
	I crawled up and kissed him on the neck, settling in beside him,
pulling him to me. "Good?" I asked him.
	"Yeah," he sighed. His hands had found my cock again. He fluttered
his soft fingers all over it.
	He sat up abruptly and, hands still on my cock, lowered his face
close to it. He breathed it in first, then ventured closer to lick the
head. I groaned at the feel of his little tongue. He looked at it, then up
at me.
	"I've never done this before."
	"I heard that somewhere."
	He smiled shyly and gave my cock a few slow strokes.
	"Lots of wet tongue and lips," I said. "Watch the teeth."
	He nodded and pulled it into his mouth, lips sinking down over it.
I felt him licking the underside of my cock as he plunged up and down on
it. He coughed and gagged and sputtered a few times before he got the hang
of it but soon he was bobbing on it with a steady and even pace. He slurped
sloppily and it popped out of his mouth a few times accidentally, but he
quickly grabbed at it with his mouth and sucked it back in, returning to
that heavenly pace. I was lost in the pleasure of it--feeling his small
hands holding me at the balls, his mouth and tongue working on my cock. At
one point, I opened my eyes to look down at him. He was looking up at me,
studying me, eyes swirling with this new sensation, this new experience,
watching me writhe in this ecstasy that he was causing. I ran my fingers
through his hair and took hold of him by the ears, joining him in the
rhythm, the bobbing up and down. I smiled at him and he did his best to
smile back with my cock in his mouth.
	My balls were boiling. For a very long time I felt close to my
orgasm, like the pleasure was reaching a climax, but I just kept going
higher and my dick just kept slipping in and out of his warm, wet mouth. He
was very focused on the task, reaching down with one hand to pull at his
own cock, stiff with excitement. More than sucking my cock, my Gato tasted
it, as if it were a delicacy on his tongue. He made a soft humming noise
and his eyes were clouded with pleasure.
	"I'm coming," I said, not sure if he'd know what I meant. It was
fast approaching.  I pulled him off my cock just as the first spurt
emerged, exploding up and arching out to land on my chin, the second spurt
splashing onto my chest, the third and fourth spilling onto my belly. He
watched in awe, feeling my balls twitching in his hands as the last of my
milk poured from me. He laughed out loud.
	"You shot a river!" he exclaimed.
	I was too overwhelmed to talk but I smiled blithely and my dick
finally stopped jerking and lay stiff on my belly, sperm draining from the
tip. He squeezed my cock and more sperm oozed out. He looked at it
curiously.
	"You have a lot more than I do," he said.
	"Taste it."
	"Huh?"
	"Taste it."
	He looked apprehensively at me, then at the pools on my body. He
wrinkled his nose at it. "Are you sure?"
	"Try it," I said. "Just a taste."
	He hesitated, then pulled my cock back like a joystick and licked
the tip of it-- milk straight from the source. He licked his lips and
grimaced, shrugged, looked at the tip again, gave another lick, grimaced.
	"Tastes weird."
	Still, when he squeezed my prick and another dollop emerged, he
swiped at it with his tongue, skipped the grimace altogether and smiled up
at me.
	"Did I do good?"
	"You were specatacular!"
	"I ain't gay."
	It was a disclaimer that made it safe for him to enjoy it.  I
smirked at him.
	"You liked it?" I asked.
	"I ain't gay," he repeated.
	"I hear you," I said. "But did you enjoy it?"
	He smirked and got up on his knees between my legs.  He looked down
at my cock and squeezed it.
	"Did you like sucking my cock?" I asked him.
	 "Yes." He stuck his finger in the puddle of cum on my belly,
rubbed it between his fingers. I got an idea.
	"Rub it on your cock," I said.
	He smiled at me and smeared the sperm on his dick. His eyes seemed
to swirl in their sockets as his hand swirled around his little shaft,
stroking up and down. He began to masturbate, tumbling down on top of me,
rolling into the crook of my arm. I cupped his ass in one hand and slipped
the other over his shoulders and hips, his thighs and balls, while he
tugged on himself. I could hear the slippery noise of the cum on his
hand. I kissed him--his lips, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose. I nuzzled his
neck and licked his ears.  He shuddered, panting, emitting sharp little
sighs as his hand flew over his prick. His legs straightened and he cried
out and heaved, suddenly in the throes of his orgasm, trembling in my arms,
against my chest. I felt a warm splash on my belly and looked down to see
his sperm flowing into mine, mixing on my belly.
	At last, his body collapsed against mine and his breathing began to
return to normal. He rubbed his face against my hairy chest and smiled,
then stretched up to kiss me on the lips. He snuggled up next to me. With
his lovely nude body curled into me, his arms and legs around me, we
tumbled off into a blissful sleep.


	I woke up with Gato's chin on my chest. He was looking up into my
face, grinning, his hard cock poking against mine. It was dark outside and
when I looked at the clock it read six thirty. He usually didn't stay this
late. It was the beginning of our new relationship where we would hang onto
each other for as long as we could and let go only when we had to--when he
had to go home, when I had to work. Our bodies hungered for each other when
we were apart and we didn't feel balanced until we were together and we
were moving into each other, settling into a TV show, starting on his
homework, beginning to make love.
	I looked down into his face, wondering what he was smiling
about. "What?"
	"Angel," he said.
	"What?"
	"Angel," he repeated. "It's a faggy name. Manny called me `Gato'
one day and it sorta stuck. I like it better."
	"Angel," I said thoughtfully. "You are my angel. You know that,
right?"
	He nodded. "That's why I told ya," he said. "You can call me that
when we're alone, but not out in public, okay?"
	"Okay." I felt honored. "Okay, Angel."
	He snuggled against me, dissolving into me. I wondered when he was
expected home but I didn't want to see him go, didn't want to let go of
him. I held him for a while longer before finally forcing myself to ask.
	"When are you supposed to be home, Angel?"
	"Six o'clock."
	"You're late."
	"I know," he sighed. "I just don't want to go."
	There came a knock at the door and we both jumped. I clambered off
the bed and he tumbled onto the floor, grabbing his boxers and struggling
into them. The knock came again as we were spilling out into the living
room. Gato practically dove into his pants, yanking them up as quickly as
he could. A voice sounded from the other side of the door.
	"Yo, Homes!"
	Manny. We both sighed in relief and I pulled on my robe and opened
the door.  Manny stood there smiling, leering, leaning against the jamb.
	"Dude," he said. "Gato's mom's been screaming his name for the last
fifteen minutes."
	Gato was struggling to buckle up his pants.
	"I told her that he was over at Roberto's," Manny continued. "And
that I'd go get him for her." He looked over at Gato and arched his
eyebrows knowingly. "Que pasa, muchacho?"
	Gato blushed and pulled on his tee shirt. He found his socks and
began yanking them on.
	Manny dropped his voice to a whisper. "You lovebirds have to be a
bit more careful in the future." He gave me a meaningful smirk.  "Gato's
mama will knock the stink off ya."
	I nodded. "Okay."
	"She's a big woman."
	"Thanks, Manny."
	"No problem," he said.
	There was a beat of silence then as Manny looked around the place,
smiling at me, smiling at Gato. He looked me up and down, dressed in my
robe, and reached over to brush some lint from my collar.
	"Yo, Gato," he said.
	"Hm?"
	"I have an idea," he said. "How `bout tomorrow night you come spend
the night at my house, `cept I won't be there and it won't be at my house."
He gave another of those conspiring looks. "Ask your mama, si?"
	Gato wasn't following. "What the fuck are you talkin' `bout?"
	Manny shook his head. "Dumb ass," he said. "Tell your mom your
stayin' at my crib, but you can come stay here."
	Gato was wriggling into his sweatshirt, heading toward the door,
stomping his feet into his shoes. When his head poked out from the collar,
he was grinning broadly.
	"Cool!"
	I kissed Gato on the head and said goodbye and the two boys headed
out into the hallway. I could hear their conversation as they made their
way down the stairs.
	"Manny?"
	"What?"
	"Sorry."
	"For what?
	"For your eye"
	"Forget about it," Manny said. "Ain't like it hurt or nothin',
punk."
	I heard a resounding slap in the stairwell and heard Manny curse,
Gato laugh, then scrambling feet on the stairs, bursting out through the
door. I went to the window in time to see Gato running down the sidewalk
toward home, laughing over is shoulder, with Manny in hot pursuit.