Cecil could smell the liquor on Joe's breath, and see the wild, angry light in his eyes. He shivered, feeling suddenly colder in his brief summer shorts.
"Your precious sister!" Joe hissed into Cecil's face. "I never had a chance to find out just how sweet her precious cunt was."
Cecil saw the ominous bulge in Joe's pants move. "She was quite a girl," he muttered.
The other boy was staring at Cecil, his eyes roaming over the soft, hairless legs below his shorts. "He's got quite a pair of legs for a boy," he muttered. "More like a girl," he sniggered. "Not bad! Not bad at all!"
"Yeah," Joe breathed. His hand went down, squeezed Cecil's leg painfully.
"L – leave me alone," Cecil muttered.
"Don't you like that, Cecil – sissy?" asked Joe, "Don’t you get a thrill?" He gripped him higher up, squeezing the soft flesh of his thigh.
Cecil winced. "Don't please don't!" he pleaded.
Joe's other hand moved to the front of his pants. He fingered himself. The bulge seemed to enlarge before Cecil's eyes. "What's the matter, Cecil," Joe muttered, "don't you like that?" He squeezed him again, higher, his fingers sliding inside the leg of Cecil's pants.
"Sure he likes it," the other boy jeered. "Maybe he was jealous of Alma!" He sniggered, "Maybe he wanted you for himself, Joe!"
"Maybe he's going to get me!" Joe's voice was very soft. He glanced at his friend: "What d'you think?"
The boy's face seemed to have tightened up. He glanced around them, guiltily, cautiously, then he took a bottle from his pocket, swigged at it, and muttered, "Why not?" He dropped down beside Cecil, held him while Joe unfastened, then slid off the fourteen – year – old boy's pants. He slipped the silk undershorts off Cecil's white thighs, shivering buttocks, and small, trembling penis, then murmured: "Just a teeny, itty – bitty cock!"
"Turn him over!" the words came out hard and tight from the boy who held Cecil so firmly. "Let's see what what he's got there!"
They twisted the limp body together. Cecil lay on his face the smooth arcs of the cheeks of his bottom quivered.
"He's like a girl," Joe hissed. Then his hand ripped open his pants and his penis thrust out, pulsing and vibrating in Joe's hand. "I'm going in," he muttered, his eyes glazed and nostrils dilated. "I'm gonna fuck his ass!"
And while Cecil was held immobile, Joe's penis probed at the shivering cheeks, slid into the cleft and touched the tiny star then plunged in as a high, terrified squeal rose from Cecil's lips.
"I'm making him!" Joe muttered as he drove in and out relentlessly. The sweat poured from his forehead as his long, thin shaft thrust deep in the anal orifice. "I I'm com coming!"
"Yeah," breathed the boy, gripping Cecil with unsteady hands, "after you me." He wet his suddenly dry lips, "I’ll screw his ass after," he breathed as Joe spurted, reared up, then spewed out the last of his juice with sobbing, tearing jerks deep into the body of the stretched – out boy.
Cecil had gone to the beach to sit and look at the water and think. There was so much to think about now. His life at school was a miserable thing. The more he saw of his schoolmates, the less he liked them. "Cecil – sissy!" they'd jeer, pinching his buttocks as he passed them. "Pansy – boy" was the call he heard most often.
His schoolwork was good too good*JG that envy was a part of the dislike that the other boys held for him.
Once, three boys had cornered him when school was over for the day, and taken him to the basement in the home of a boy whose parents were away. There they had practiced a certain crude form of sadism spanking Cecil's white, protesting buttocks until he had screamed with pain. When he had finally dropped to the floor, wriggling and squealing with the pain from his abused bottom, the three of them had dragged out their horrible things their white, ugly cocks and masturbated while staring at his shocked face and trembling, half – naked body. He had hated boys and men just a little bit more after that.
At home, his life was still pleasant in some ways. Alma loved him, used him, and sometimes, in a mild, not unpleasant way, abused his willing, so eager – to – please body. He loved Alma with a devotion which increased rather than lessened as the years went by. She returned his feelings with a warm but casual acquiescence that he had to accept as sufficient.
With Blanche, their sessions of sensuality took place with ever – increasing regularity as she became more hungry, more passionate with every month. To her, Cecil was merely a means a pleasant, lovable means of satisfying her compulsive sex – urge. Her orgasms became terrifying in their intensity and she spewed her saliva of love onto her fragile instrument of appeasement Cecil with wet, racking determination.
In between his life at school and at home, Cecil found the adult games of sex – play disturbing, confusing and sometimes frightening. He noticed men and boys thrust themselves against female bodies on a bus or subway. He saw them sneak their surreptitious feel, their subtle probe of flesh on a soft hip or pliable buttock. Once he saw an older man, his pants bulging at the crotch, force his body against a young girl on a crowded bus. Squeezing his penis against her soft buttocks, pushing forward harder and harder until the frightened child wriggled away. He saw it and hated it. Yet Cecil had been unable to curb the strange thrill that tickled the tip of his penis at the sight.
And the men touched Cecil, too. One man had reached down, on the crowded subway, and touched then held Cecil's limp penis. They had been squashed together, hemmed in by the crowd and there was no way for Cecil to escape if he wanted to and he had wondered, afterwards, whether he had really wanted to!
Another time, another man had pressed hard against his back. Cecil had felt the awful stiffness of the horrible thing thrusting against his buttocks. The small thrill had flickered through his flesh that time, too. But no man had ever entered his body no one had inserted a sliver of lust up his palpitating, sensitive anal canal except Alma with her slick, ever – wet, educated finger… until that day… that day at the beach…
Cecil had not seen them coming. He had been lying on his back, his eyes half – closed, soaking up the sunshine and thinking, when… the shadows blotted out the warmth from the sun. Cecil had opened his eyes wide, seen them. It was Joe and his friend, Louie. "W – what d'you want?" he had quavered, wriggling up into a squatting position. Then they had showed him…
When it was over, Joe had mouthed a vicious warning "If you breathe a word to anyone… " He hadn't had to finish, Cecil had half – turned his head from where he lay facedown on the sand, seen the menacing light in Joe's eye and understood. "I I won't tell anyone," he had sobbed. "I won't say a word!" And he hadn't.,.. except to Alma.
When they had gone, he had lain there the small round circle of redness spreading round the star in the cleft of his raped, abused anus and he had cried silently. Muttering to himself, over and over. I won't tell anyone not anyone but Alma!
Alma had spread a sweet, smooth slick of salve on his ravished little ass. "Did it hurt so much?" she had asked, gently smearing the ointment into the tender anus.
"Yes," he murmured, "it hurt so much but – "
Alma's hand had stopped its delicious movement for a second. "But what?" she breathed, her voice all tight and excited like the boys' voices had been before they…
"I I don't know," he had muttered, confused, trying to sort out thoughts that he didn't understand… to put into words… to explain how he had felt… what it had been like… how it had been. "It was like a a " he groped, helplessly, then lapsed into child – talk, "an iggly," he said, "it was like an iggly squiggly!"
"I see," Alma had breathed out the words, then her finger had smeared again, more deeply, more urgently as though she had suddenly become tensely excited.
"It it feels much better now, Alma," he had murmured when she had treated him for a long, long time with her gentle hand.