Me and Rico are best friends -- almost brothers. Us and our moms lived together in the same apartment since Rico and me was real little. Our moms work the laundry at some big hotel downtown, and the pay is crummy, so they decided to save on rent.
We never met our fathers. All my mom will tell me about mine is that he was a lying sack of shit. I don't think Rico's mom even knows who the hell his father was. Well, it don't matter. We have each other.
When you come in our apartment house, you have to walk up the stairs to the fourth floor. Me and Rico don't much mind, but our moms wish there was an elevator when they're bringing in the groceries. You open the door to Apartment 4B, and walk down a long, narrow hallway. At the end of the hallway is the bathroom, but you turn right before you walk into the bathroom, unless you have to pee, and you're in the front room. There are two beds where out moms sleep, a table and chairs, and the TV. Along one wall are the stove, the refrigerator, and the sink.
Pass through the front room and you get to the back room, which is smaller than the front room. That's where the closet is, and the chest of drawers, and the bed where me and Rico sleep. The room is not big enough for us to have separate beds, so we've slept together most of our lives.
There's one window in the front room, and one in the back room, and one in the bathroom. All three look out on the alley. There's another building maybe ten feet away, and there's a hooker lives in the apartment across from me and Rico's bedroom. We watched her giving guys blowjobs way back before we knew what a hooker was, and I guess that's what gave us the idea to suck each other's dicks, but it was so long ago I can't remember. We've been sucking each other's dicks since we were very, very small.
Our school is two blocks away, so we walk there and back. It only goes up to sixth grade, which is the grade we are in, but it still has a metal detector at the front door. In our neighborhood, you never know.
So we are laying around in bed one afternoon after school, and Rico has pulled down my pants and is sucking on my little boner, but it's not as good as usual because something is on my mind, and that something is Fat Ralphie. Fat Ralphie would be a high school kid if he ever went to school. He is the kind of fat that makes it hard for him to get his ass wiped enough, so he always smells like shit. He gets his money by taking it off littler kids like me and Rico, and he got our money that morning.
Now both of us are on reduced price breakfast and lunch at school, but I guess we are not poor enough to get them free, like some of the kids. Anyway, we told the cafeteria lady what happened, and she felt sorry for us, especially when Rico started crying, so she fed us free like the really poor kids, but I was still mad.
"I wish I could kill Fat Ralphie," I said to Rico, who raised his head from my crotch long enough to say, "You would really do that, Jean Paul?"
"Yes," I said. "If I could get a gun, I would shoot him right in his fat face."
I stewed a minute or so longer, then said to Rico, "Take off your pants. I want to do you for a while, and maybe I'll be able to forget about Fat Ralphie."
I love Rico's body. He always has a sweet smell, maybe from the miniature Cashmere Bouquet soaps our moms bring home from the hotel, but some of it has to be him, because I don't think I smell near as sweet as he does, and I use the same little free soaps.
He pulled off his sneakers and his socks, then dropped his pants and his boxers. Finally, he pulled his t-shirt over his head. Rico likes to be all naked when I do him, and I like it too because I like to kiss him and lick him all over, and save his dick and balls for last. I know that sounds gay, but we didn't think we were gay because we always got boners and yanked at ourselves when we watched the hooker across the alley walking around her apartment topless. Anyway, we never messed around with other boys -- just each other.
I decided it might be nice if I were naked too, so I untied my hi-tops and kicked them off, then stepped out of the pants that were already around my ankles. I hesitated a little before I pulled off my shirt, but then thought the hell with it. Rico already had seen my "zipper," from the heart surgery I had when I was a little kid, about a million times. The docs said I should still take it easy. I didn't take it too easy with Rico, though. He was way too hot.
He got a big grin on his face when I lay down and pushed my body right up next to his, feeling how warm and soft he was. I grabbed his beautiful butt with one hand, and used the other behind his head to push our faces together. He opened his mouth so I could shove my tongue in. We saw that in a movie, and when we tried it, it was nice, so we did it all the time -- even with our clothes on. It was better naked, though.
Then I kissed down his chin and his neck until I got to his chest. His nipples stick out more than most boys' do, and I liked licking them, and he liked when I did it. It's not like they were tits or anything -- he was all boy -- but his nips would get hard and stand up, and he'd squirm around like crazy until he couldn't stand any more and pushed my head down to his belly.
I loved his belly too. It was flat, but just a little bit soft, with a really cute innie I licked very gently. If I stuck my tongue in too hard, he said it hurt, and I never ever wanted to hurt him.
Meanwhile, the hand that started behind his head was squeezing his butt, and the hand that started squeezing his butt was rubbing up and down his totally smooth legs. His legs were slim, but not skinny, and they felt terrific to me. I moved my face down to his legs, and just rubbed it up and down, and it felt so good. Yes, I skipped over his dick and balls, but like I said, I liked to save them for last.
I gave him a little push, and he knew that meant it was time for him to turn over, so he did. The backs of his legs were softer and more delicious than the fronts. Best of all, they led me right up to his ass, which is the best ass you ever could imagine. I pushed my face right in, and just loved it so much.
Like I said, he always smelled sweet, and that included his ass. I pushed his legs apart, and got in between them, and started licking that couple inches of soft skin between his hole and his balls. I don't know what it's called, if it's even got a name. I just called it delicious.
Then I moved my face up so I could lap at his hole. I invented that myself, never thinking that anybody else would do something that weird, but I guess some people do. It always got him really hot and horny, though, and the feeling of his ass cheeks squeezing my face cheeks made me even hotter and hornier.
I curled my tongue (I can do that) and pushed it at his hole, and he let me squeeze it in an inch or so. Then I backed off so he could flip back over, and then I took his entire little cock and balls into my mouth. (Rico was smaller than me, so it wasn't that hard.)
I sucked him and tongued him so good, he was like having a fit, wiggling and shaking all over. He also made a lot of noise, but people were always making those noises in our apartment house, so it didn't matter.
"I feel good," he told me after his fit passed over. "How about you, Jean Paul?"
"Better," I said, "much better. But I still want to kill Fat Ralphie."
"You could stick it up my ass," he suggested. That was something we'd heard about on the playground, but still hadn't tried. "Maybe if you stuck it up my ass, you could stop thinking about killing Fat Ralphie."
I just grabbed him, and hugged him, and kissed him. "That's okay. Not this time, buddy. Just hold me. And wake me up so we can get dressed before our moms get home."
I guess we figured out, early on, how it would be better if our moms didn't know how we messed around. Well, maybe they knew and they didn't care. I won't ever ask, that's for sure.
I fell asleep in Rico's arms just a few minutes later. He felt so soft. And so smooth. I'll never love anybody more, and, if that's gay, I don't give a shit.
He sounded excited enough that I just jumped out of our bed and ran over to the window, and looked down the four stories. I was just in time to see one guy, maybe a Puerto Rican or a Dominican, kind of stagger out of the alley. There was another guy just laying there. He was a pretty big black guy in a gray suit and a red tie and a big red stain spreading across his white shirt.
"Oh, shit," I said.
"I saw him fall over," Rico told me. "He looks like he's dead."
"Yeah," I agreed, "he sure looks like he's dead."
"Should we call the cops?" Rico asked me.
"If he's dead," I said, "it don't make no difference, and we'll just get tangled up with the cops. We don't need that."
The red stain spread out from the guy's white shirt to his gray suit to a puddle of red on the concrete. If he wasn't dead yet, he would be dead by the time the cops showed up. That's when I noticed he still had a gun in his hand, and started pulling on my clothes as fast as I could.
"Where are you going?" Rico asked me.
"There's a gun down there," I said. "I'm getting it."
"But what if the cops come?" he wanted to know.
"Even if somebody called them, they won't show up for a half-hour at least. You lived here long enough to know that."
"So you still want to shoot Fat Ralphie?"
"Maybe," I said. "I'm not sure. But I want that gun."
I'd never held a gun before, and Rico didn't even want to touch it. I kept my fingers away from the trigger, because I didn't want it to go off, at least not yet. I knew from TV that guns had "safeties," but I didn't know where this gun's "safety" was, or whether it was on or off. I could tell, though, that it was the kind of gun where you pushed a "clip" up in the handle, not the revolver type from the cowboy movies.
Best of all, it was kind of a little gun, so I figured a kind of little kid like me could handle it without getting knocked over on his ass. It would fit in my jacket pocket too. Fat Ralphie would never know what hit him. Or, better yet, he would know it was me, and then take a little time to die.
I needed a place to hide it, and I started to lift up our mattress.
"No!" Rico yelled. "What if we're jiggling around and it goes off and shoots us?"
Well, that kind of made sense, because him and me did a lot of jiggling around, especially when our moms weren't home. "Maybe the closet," I said, but thinking right away it was a bad idea because we only had the one closet, and everybody shared it.
"No," Rico said, "the chest of drawers. You can hang it down by a rope or something behind the chest of drawers, if you really think you have to keep it. But couldn't you just wipe away your fingerprints like they do on TV and pitch it out the window? Hell, the stiff is still down there, and nobody came yet."
I found some heavy cord and a fat tack, and hung it down behind the chest of drawers. It was a good hiding place.
Our moms got home later than usual, but the restaurant guy gave them some leftover roast beef and mac-and-cheese to bring home for us, so we ate pretty good. Then we all sat down on our moms' beds to watch some TV. We didn't have homework because our teachers didn't bother to give it because nobody did it anyway.
When CSI was over, Rico's mom told us to get in the shower. "Why?" Rico asked.
"Because neither one of you has had a bath in three days," she told us, "and the teachers will think we're bad parents. We don't need Social Services up here."
We really wanted to watch Law & Order, but showering was not so bad, because we'd taken baths and showers together all our lives, and since we'd been allowed to do it on our own, it was just another chance to fool around. We grabbed some clean underpants from the chest of drawers, and went into the bathroom. It was a pretty big bathroom for a small apartment, with a really big tub that stood up on legs shaped like lions' feet. I turned on the faucet so the hot water could come up from the basement while we stripped.
Okay, we fooled around a lot that afternoon, but it didn't mean we weren't ready for more. When we got old enough to shoot wads, we needed to rest a little, but back then we were always ready for more. Rico flipped the selector from tub to shower, we grabbed a couple of miniature bars of Cashmere Bouquet, and we got in. By the time we were all wet, both of us had popped stiffies, so that's where we started soaping each other. We had to keep it quiet, though, so our moms wouldn't hear.
"Jean Paul," Rico said, as I moved my little soap bar around to between his ass cheeks, "remember what I asked you this afternoon when you were all worked up about Fat Ralphie?"
I didn't remember. All I remembered was being really mad at Fat Ralphie, and the fun of licking Rico's ass.
"I asked you if you wanted to stick your dick in my hole. And you said no. Do you want to try it now?"
I was a little confused, because mostly, in the tub, we just soaped and rubbed each other, and maybe did a little sucking after the soap was washed off. Then again, if I could stick my tongue up his ass, why not my dick? "Uh, how do you want to do it?" I asked.
"Keep soaping me back there," he said, "and when everything's good and soapy, try putting a finger up inside."
I had thought about putting a finger up his hole, especially after it was good and wet from my tongue, but I never did it. The soap, though, I figured, would make it real slippery. Maybe it would work. And if my finger fit up there, it made sense that my boner would too. It was a little longer than my finger, but not especially fat.
"Turn around," I said, "so I can see what I'm doing."
He turned around, bent over, and grabbed the tub spigot. I looked at his ass, so wet and shiny and kind of saying "Eat me," but it was still pretty soapy, and I didn't want soap in my mouth, and he didn't want my tongue up there this time. He wanted my finger. And my dick.
I rubbed more Cashmere Bouquet in his crack, and rubbed it down between his legs to his dick, mostly to see how hard he was. He was really hard.
I rubbed some more soap on my hand, and ran my middle finger all around his hole. He started breathing harder, but not so loud that our moms could hear. Then I started pushing that middle finger inside him. He got tight for a second, then went all loose, and my finger slipped right in to the second knuckle. He breathed even harder, and whispered, "That's so good, Jean Paul. Do it more."
So I pumped my finger in and out five or six times, and it seemed like Rico really liked it. He liked it so much that I was afraid our moms might hear, but I guess the sound of the shower was loud enough to hide his grunting and groaning.
"Now take out your finger," he told me, "and put in your dick."
I did, pausing only long enough to put more soap on my boner, since most of it had washed away while I was fingering him. It was different from getting sucked, and I wasn't sure which I liked better. He was so hot up there, which was real nice. But he didn't have a tongue up there, which was less nice. But his ass gripped my whole dick at the same time, which was great.
I was such a retard, though, that I was just thinking about all that when he said, "Don't just leave it there, fuck me."
So I started pumping. I knew that much. And after the first time it fell out, I was careful not to let that happen again. And I wondered if it meant that he would want to do it to me, which left me a little uneasy. And I still hadn't figured out if I liked his ass better than his mouth, but I thought his ass was a pretty nice place for my dick.
After a minute or so, he got the tinglies, but I kept on until I got them too. He let go of the spigot, stood up straight, turned around, and kissed me on the mouth, tongue poking against mine. As we hugged each other under the warm water, I reached around and stuck a finger back up his ass. It was very nice, and I knew we would do it again.
Then we just rinsed, dried, put on our clean underpants, and came out of the bathroom to kiss our moms goodnight. As usual, both of us kissed both moms, and they both squeezed both of our little underpanted bottoms.
It wasn't until we were in bed, and Rico was already half asleep, that I thought about the gun hanging behind the chest of drawers. Rico was right -- it was very scary -- but I still wanted it. I wasn't sure I really wanted to kill Fat Ralphie, but I wanted that gun.
They had just pulled the dead guy onto a stretcher, and I was thrilled to see that they really did draw that white outline on the concrete to show where the body had been.
"We better get dressed," Rico said. "Cops'll be here any minute to question us."
I froze. "Us? Why us?"
"Just like on TV," he said. "They talk to anybody who might have seen or heard something."
"But what do we tell them?"
"We say we might have heard something while we was watching cartoons, but we thought it was firecrackers. We didn't look to see. We were just watching Spongebob on Nick."
"Okay," I agreed. "Watching Spongebob."
The doorbell rang. We hurried to put on our shirts and pants. I heard my mom say, "Do you know what time it is?"
A man's voice said, "Sorry, ma'am, but it's a murder investigation. Down in the alley. We have to question everybody who might have seen or heard anything."
"Well, we didn't see nothing, and we didn't hear nothing. When did it happen?"
"We're not sure yet."
"Well, we got home around seven, and it was just the same as usual. Men calling their girlfriends sluts, and wives calling their husbands assholes, and babies screaming, and all the rest you hear when you live in a dump like this across the alley from a dump like that."
Rico's mother chimed in. "It ain't a great neighborhood."
"Nothing that might have been gunshots?"
"Not last night, anyway," my mother answered.
The cop thanked her and left.
Rico's mother called out, "Rico! Jean Paul! Get your asses in here."
Since we were all dressed so early, they knew we'd been listening to the conversation with the cop. "You boys know anything about a murder?" We shook our heads.
"You hear any gunshots from the alley before we got home?" my mother asked.
"We were just watching Spongebob," Rico said, putting on his most innocent face.
"We might of heard something, but it just sounded like firecrackers," I added. My innocent face was not nearly as good as Rico's, but I hoped it was good enough.
"If those cops come back when we're not here, don't even tell them about the firecrackers. We don't need nothing to do with no cops."
Our teacher probably would have said it was pretty bad grammar, but pretty good advice.
We spotted Fat Ralphie on our way to school, shaking down some other kid. He spotted us, but we ran away in time. Blubber boy don't run too fast. We figured he'd be mad not to get our lunch money, but we could take a different way home.
Ms. Leibowitz, our teacher, was pretty nice, and tried hard to make us smart, but she didn't have us the whole day. Sometimes we went to art, where we painted pictures, or music, where we sang stupid old songs. That day, though, we went to computer lab, with Mr. Douglas. We was supposed to be doing research on the internet about great Americans for a report Ms. Leibowitz assigned, but most of the kids were playing video games. Mr. Douglas just sat there up front, not giving a shit.
Rico got Booker T. Washington, which he thought wasn't fair because Rico wasn't even black. I got Susan B. Anthony, which was worse, because she was a girl. I printed the Wikipedia page, and then tried to find out something about my gun.
It was a Beretta 3032 Tomcat, and not hard to find on the internet because it said "3032 Tomcat" right on it. The first thing I found out was that it was hanging behind the chest of drawers with the safety off. I would change that when we got home. I also figured out how to see if there were any bullets left in it.
The next kind of interesting thing that happened that day was later, when Ms. Leibowitz gave me a pass to the boy's room. I really didn't have to pee, but I had one of those boners that won't go away, and I was thinking if I got called up to the blackboard all the girls would see it, so I better yank it some until it went down.
When I got to the boy's room, I saw one of the stalls was closed, so I figured somebody was taking a shit, but I didn't smell no shit, so I was curious. I went into the next stall, and stood on the toilet to have a look over the top of the wall. Well, there was Danny Neill and Anton Jackson, and Danny was fucking little Anton hard as can be. Both of them lived in the same foster home, with a big bunch of other kids and Mrs. Kennedy, who was a drunk. Nobody at Social Services seemed to care.
"Harder," I yelled, getting their attention. "Shit, you can fuck him harder than that!"
Danny looked up, saw me, and said, "If you tell, Jean Paul, I'll kill you."
"No you won't," I replied, "because you're just a fucking faggot."
Something had to happen, and it did. Danny offered me Anton to fuck. Anton was just a fourth grader, but he had one of those beautiful perky black asses. Yeah, Anton is black, and you know how nice black asses can be. I didn't hold nothing against Danny, but I had a chance to take advantage, so I did.
"What if I want to fuck you, Danny? You gonna bend over to keep my mouth shut?"
I was entirely surprised when he started crying.
"Don't send me back to that school, Jean Paul. I'll do anything. You can fuck me all you want. Just say the time and place, and promise not to tell."
I might have fucked him right then and there, and Anton too, but my boner had gone away. Boners are funny that way. "Meet me after school at Yogi's," I instructed him. Yogi is the Indian guy who owns the corner store. His real name is not Yogi. That's just what we call him, but not to his face. Danny kind of nodded. I took a minute to pee, because you always should pee when you got the chance, and went back to class.
Me and Rico got to Yogi's first, and looked through the newspaper to see what we could find out about the stiff in the alley, but they didn't have it. He was just another dirtbag got himself killed, and they didn't bother with those. You had to be at least a little special to make the paper.
I had told Rico about Danny and Anton on the way to Yogi's. As usual, he was way too nice. He told me he kind of liked Danny, and felt sorry for him having to live at Mrs. Murphy's with all those other kids -- and, anyway, if I wanted a fuck, he wanted it to be him. I hate it when he does that.
"Well," I said, improvising, "what if I make him suck off the both of us? We could put our dicks together and he could suck us both at the same time. That might be fun."
He agreed it might be fun, so when Danny showed up -- without Anton -- we took him back to the apartment.
Danny is Irish, I guess, but not the redheaded kind with the freckles. He has curly black hair, and very white skin. Getting a good look at him, I decided his face would look really good on a girl. Anyway, I wanted to see him naked, so when we got to the apartment, the first thing I told him to do was get naked. He started to unbutton his shirt, but Rico, naturally, had a better idea.
"Wait," he said. "I want a real strip show." He dug around in his mother's CDs, came out with an old Madonna, put it in our really old boom box, and played "What it feels like to be a girl." Danny started dancing, and he was a pretty good dancer. He also started stripping, and it was very sexy, even though he was crying again before he had his pants down. By the time he slipped down his underpants, there were tears all over his face. I knew Rico would fall for that. Shit, I fell for it myself.
We laid him down on our bed, and Rico licked at his tears. Rico likes the taste of tears. I played with his dick, which probably was about the same size as mine, and just as hairless. I was going to suck on it, but then I wondered if he'd washed it after it was up Anton's ass, so I didn't. I licked one of his nipples, though, and put my hand between his legs so I could feel up his ass. He felt really nice, and his body was as nice a boy body as you are likely to feel.
It was very cool, me and Rico still all dressed with a naked boy to play with, but he was still crying. I said, "It's okay, Danny. I'd never tell on you, no matter what."
Danny didn't stop crying, though, so I said, "Come on, Rico, let's get naked." And we did. And we cuddled him between us. And I was feeling bad for taking advantage, and I wasn't even thinking about the gun hanging behind the chest of drawers that didn't even have the safety on. I was as hard as can be, and so was Rico, but Danny had gone soft, and stayed soft even after he stopped crying.
"Never," he said, "never ever let them send you to St. Anselm's."
"What's that?" Rico asked him.
He stared up at the ceiling a little. Then he said, "It's hell."
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