July 1966
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Dalhart, Texas, Summer 1966, By Mookie free porn video
For my 18th birthday my bitch mother was going to have me committed to a lockup nuthouse. Back in the day, homosexuality was classified as a mental illness (typically treated with electroshock), homosexual acts between consenting adults were criminalized, and being outed at the tail end of the McCarthy era (as my supposedly best friend did to me in high school) got you branded by some as traitor to your country.
So I visited my grandma who gave me $10, stuck my thumb out at the entrance to the Hollywood freeway & made it as far as Amarillo, Texas where I was literally thrown into a large drunk tank with only a few bunk beds; most of us slept on the floor.
I teamed up for protection with Orlando, a tough little Mexican guy my age, whose father owned a ranch in New Mexico, & who was riding the rails for fun, which you could still just barely do then. We got out on the same day & bummed aimlessly around mostly Texas & Kansas, sleeping in freight yards with old hobos who told the same kind of stories they'd been telling for 50 years or more: "Yeah, that's the bull got his leg shot off by Kansas City Slim. Well they fitted him with a wooden leg & now that old bull's back meaner than ever."
This was shortly before the hippie clones flooded (and destroyed) the counterculture. Orlando knew that a delicate white boy would fare better than he would panhandling, so that was my job. I could tell you stories about people so nice, including nice cops, it would break your heart. But I want to tell you about some stuff that happened to me in Dalhart, Texas.
I'd been sleeping every night for about a week in a hobo camp, in the arms of Bodean, a big, strong (& always drunk) old grey-bearded hobo who appreciated me keeping his sizable uncut cock smegma free by orally servicing him. He was so gentle and affectionate with me (except when he was shooting his copious loads, when he would instinctively push my head down hard & jam his cock down my throat), that I got addicted to the ripe funky odor of his grey haired cock & balls. After he came we'd cuddle, & all he practically had to do was gently hold my hard cock in his gnarled, calloused hand & I'd cum. I was embarrassed about having so little control, but I was too turned on by him to prolong it. He'd pull out his filthy red handkerchief, wipe off his hand & my dick & we'd fall asleep.
One day I'd had the most unbelievable luck panhandling. A housewife in her mid 30s had taken me into a mom and pop convenience store, gotten a large empty paper bag from the owner & had me fill it up. Local news travelled fast in Dalhart, so she knew I was hanging out with "some other boys." (Except for Orlando & me, they were all old hobos.) She kept urging me to put more in the bag, which came to over $20 & embarrassed the hell out of me. Orlando passed the goodies around as if he were my manager; and the next day, even though we still had plenty for us and "the boys," sent me out to panhandle again, saying "Never mind the food this time, Cherry. Get us some money."
Well, I didn't get food OR money that time. I got the whole bloody bunch of us busted & taken to the Dallam County Sheriff's Office, consisting then of a small office room with an even smaller room leading off it, one small barred cell & one larger cell. It was manned by two bored Gomer Pyle type deputies, and occasionally visited by other deputies & cops. Those guys knew every one of the 4 old hobos by their first names. Bodean merited special treatment, being placed apart from the rest of us in the small cell. It didn't take long to find out why. Separated from his booze, he would see hostile men in the corner of his cell, start calling for help and actually violently shadow box those phantoms. I silently thanked God he'd always been drunk with me.
There had been no formal trial or sentencing. Five of us shared one toilet in the middle of the cell. There were 3 bunks, so Orlando & I slept on mats on the floor. We got two meals a day ordered from a nearby burger joint. Having to listen to Bodean yelling in terror when he wasn't sleeping, and listening to an endless round of weary hobo tales, on the 3rd day I suddenly remembered I'd had a pack of Camels the deputies had appropriated, so I said to one of them as he passed our cell, "Could you ask the cat who took my smokes if I can have them back?" I knew I'd blown it when Orlando, the 3 old hobos in our cell & even Bodean across the way all groaned.
Nothing happened right away, so I forgot about it, until an hour later an enormously fat, tall uniformed cop in his 50s stepped up to the bars &, scowling, said "Hey boy! Yeah you! Come here." I obeyed. "Are you the cool cat?" he asked. I was petrified & couldn't answer. The cop called to one of the Pyle twins to open the cell door, which a deputy, broadly smiling, obligingly did, saying "You ain't gonna hurt him too much, are you Junior? Little puff of a thang don't look like he could stand much of a whippin'." "I know what I'm doin'," Junior mumbled. "I know that's right," the deputy giggled, "back room again?" "Back room again," echoed Junior, squeezing my arm painfully & unnecessarily yanking me forward through the cluttered office.
As we traversed the room, I got to see the surroundings through the windows. The daylight, contrasted with the dingy cell, seemed unnaturally bright, but I was being forced along so quickly I couldn't make out much beyond the barren yard. As we entered the smaller windowless room & old Junior, locking the door, switched on the single dangling bare bulb which illuminated nothing but one straight backed chair in the middle of the dusty wood panelled floor, I spontaneously let my mind go blank, ready to get it over with.
He stood facing me, his jowly bulldog face scowling down at my somewhat slouched 5'7" stature. I was ready to shit my pants. In a near whisper, Junior said "Don't be afraid. I ain't really gonna hurt you, but I gotta do somethin' them boys can hear, and I promise, you WILL feel it. Understand?" "Ye-yeah, I guess," I stammered. "Shush! Not so loud," he whispered, and in that barely audible deep timbre, throwing his powerful arms around me and hugging me so tight against his enormous belly I could hardly breathe, he said, "I knowed you's a good boy the minute I saw you. Why you hangin' around with them dirty old men?" When he let up enough for me to talk, I whispered, "I'm on the road, Sir. Just having fun." "Well I'm gonna give you somethin' to remind you to avoid that kind of fun from now on."
He dropped his lard ass onto the chair & roughly jerked me toward him; then surprised me by saying loud enough to be heard in the adjoining office, "Drop your pants, boy," which I quickly did. Then I surprised myself when I realized I must have had a raging hard-on from the moment he'd spoken tenderly. My dick was actually dangling a string of pre-cum. Junior at that point even more closely resembled a bulldog, when saliva started freely flowing from the corners of his lips down his double chins.
A wonderful surprise met me, as Junior breathed out a contented sigh &, pulling me closer, engulfed my entire 7 inches: He had no teeth! (I recalled an uncle who hated dentures and had trained himself to sound & appear as if he had teeth.) I had never experienced such velvety wetness, but not knowing the protocol for unloading in a cop's mouth, I whispered, "Sir, may I please have an orgasm?" "That's my good boy," he softly intoned as he pulled away, "you have good manners. No, you do not have my permission yet. I still have to give you the discipline a boy like you needs."
As he held me back from him, for the first time I clearly focused on his billy club & holstered gun; an all time first for a sex encounter. Then came another first: Without getting out of the chair, as if I weighed practically nothing, he lifted me face down horizontally & set me across his lap.
I didn't have to wait or wonder. WHACK! That huge fat hand came down full force on my ass, and it fucking hurt! I had no doubt the deputies heard it & were cracking up. My dick was uncomfortably cramped against his thick legs; perhaps he noticed, since he separated them a bit for my dick to slip between, then closed them again, which actually felt good against the material of his uniform. WHACK! I hadn't had a spanking since I was 5, & I certainly did not remember it being this painful. My heart was racing, both with sexual excitement and real fear, as the blows increased exponentially in frequency & with no let up of force.
Now I was angry & experienced a nearly irresistible impulse to get the fuck off his lap & punch him in his ugly face; but remembering his gun & club restrained me. The now almost painful rubbing of my dick as it bobbed up & down against his starched pants & his legs squeezed in on it, got it harder & more swollen than I could remember. My whole body was reflexively jumping up with each violent slap. With the slight reasoning ability I still retained, I realized I must be drenching his uniform with pre-cum. Finding myself now in a timeless realm comprised of equal pain, fear and sexual pleasure, I had no way of knowing how long my spanking actually went on; and then something in me snapped. I neither wanted it to go on or to stop. Being spanked by Junior was my world, my reality; I completely surrendered.
I must have momentarily lost consciousness, because the next thing I knew, I was sitting in Junior's lap while he covered my face with wet kisses. "You gonna suck my dick, boy? Are ya?" he kept whispering. Then he hitched up his shirt, letting his big man boobs flop down over his huge hairy belly. That drove me crazy! As I leaned forward to take one of his hairy old breasts in my mouth, the pain from my well-punished ass made me wince & pause a moment. "Yeah boy," said Junior, "you gonna have considerable trouble sittin' on that thing awhile. Now what do you say when the nice policeman gives you a spankin'?" "Oh thank you Sir," I breathed, "for helping me to be a good boy." "Oh Christ," he muttered, forcing my head down on a breast, "you're too fuckin' good to be true!" I tongued & played with those amazing fat tits as he ran his fingers through my hair. Then he lifted me off himself, set me on my feet & stood up, whispering, as he unbuckled & slid down his pants & oversized briefs, "You like my big belly, don't you son? Well here's somethin' else you're gonna like." His nice thick uncircumcised cock must have been ten inches long. I had expected it to be rock hard like mine, but it was completely flaccid. "That's right, son. I can't please the ladies no more. That's why I need a good boy like you to help me."
I was only too happy to help, & secretly pleased that his monster cock wasn't going to present too much of a challenge after the workout I'd just been through. I got down on my knees & went to work, taking into my mouth as much as I could. Even on soft that thing was more than a mouthful. "Oh yeah boy," he groaned, "you were made to please a man like me. This is what I needed for so long," followed by: "Goddamn, I have to pee. Sorry, boy, I'm gettin' old, I can't hold it like I used to, & I ain't goin' out there now. Listen, I used to have a little woman who loved to drink my piss. Think you can handle that? I don't want to make a mess in here. Think you can be my toilet boy? It's just a little piss." "Just a little?" I asked. "Listen, I can't hold it. Just be good," he said, forcibly holding my head tight against him so that his cock was touching the back of my throat. I just let myself relax as he turned on his faucet. Mercifully, he was right. It was a slow, steady old guy trickle that didn't last too long, & I found myself enjoying the warm, bitter drink. When it ended, he relaxed his grip. I pulled back to catch my breath & looked up to see him smiling behind that great hairy belly. That had been a first for me, & I felt proud. I was a policeman's toilet boy!
The knocking on the door startled both of us. "Everything OK in there, Junior?" asked a deputy. "Everything's fine, Kyle, this boy just needs some special attention." "OK then, Junior, just makin' sure." "Motherfuckers," Junior grumbled, "they know they're not supposed to do that. Let me feed you some dessert now, Sweetie." I went back to work & it wasn't long before his cock chubbed up pretty good & I was rewarded with a slow dribble of thick, actually sweet, cum that seemed like it would never stop. I made sure I got every last spurt.
"Alright, Son, your turn," said Junior, plopping his fat ass back on the chair, placing his huge hands on my still smarting butt & drawing my aching cock into that slobbering, toothless mouth. Looking down at his strong, fat old body, I watched him encircle the shaft of my dick in one hand as he gently teased its head with his tongue, then scooped up my balls with his other hand, sucking & rolling them around in his mouth. I don't know where Junior learned that, but this cop was a practiced cocksucker!
I realized I was experiencing an unaccustomed ability to prolong my orgasm, but Junior slapped my sore ass hard & painfully three times, began jacking my cock violently & said "I'm givin' you my permission, boy. Don't be shy. Nothin' to be embarrassed about. Let the nice policeman see what a stud you are." I leaned my legs into that enormous belly, placed my hands on his broad shoulders and felt all my pent-up sperm shoot full force into his hungry hot mouth, as he gazed up lovingly into my face.
There was no fanfare whatever when we emerged from that back room. The two deputies in the office paid no attention to us, & just went on sorting papers while glancing at a news broadcast on a small black & white TV against the wall.
The old hobos knew the drill; they would let us out (all except for skinny old Pervis, the real old-timer, whom they probably felt sorry for & wanted to feed for a few more days) just as soon as Bodean was reliably recovered from his DTs, which took the better part of a week. The routine was to allow the hobos to hop another freight (what else could they do?), but a deputy drove Orlando & me to the edge of town, where they had made arrangements for a Greyhound bus to pick us up & transport us clear out of Dallam County, signing off with the obligatory "Don't come back, or we won't let you off so easy next time."
I know it sounds corny, but my heart was aching for Junior; not only because of the kinky sex, but because of one last encounter I had with him. When they opened the cells & ushered us out into the unaccustomedly bright daylight, while the deputy who was to drive Orlando & me to our rendezvous was doing something with his squad car engine, I heard a deep voice say, "Hey, where you goin', boy?" Junior, whom I hadn't seen since our back room adventure a few days before, was coming around the side of the building. Ignoring Orlando, he wordlessly handed me my nearly full pack of Camels. I didn't discover until later that he'd slipped 2 twenties into the pack. He was visibly trembling as he glared down at me & whispered, "I wish I had a boy like you." Then he quickly turned away & walked back into the building, where I could hear him loudly laughing & joking around with a couple of deputies.
So I visited my grandma who gave me $10, stuck my thumb out at the entrance to the Hollywood freeway & made it as far as Amarillo, Texas where I was literally thrown into a large drunk tank with only a few bunk beds; most of us slept on the floor.
I teamed up for protection with Orlando, a tough little Mexican guy my age, whose father owned a ranch in New Mexico, & who was riding the rails for fun, which you could still just barely do then. We got out on the same day & bummed aimlessly around mostly Texas & Kansas, sleeping in freight yards with old hobos who told the same kind of stories they'd been telling for 50 years or more: "Yeah, that's the bull got his leg shot off by Kansas City Slim. Well they fitted him with a wooden leg & now that old bull's back meaner than ever."
This was shortly before the hippie clones flooded (and destroyed) the counterculture. Orlando knew that a delicate white boy would fare better than he would panhandling, so that was my job. I could tell you stories about people so nice, including nice cops, it would break your heart. But I want to tell you about some stuff that happened to me in Dalhart, Texas.
I'd been sleeping every night for about a week in a hobo camp, in the arms of Bodean, a big, strong (& always drunk) old grey-bearded hobo who appreciated me keeping his sizable uncut cock smegma free by orally servicing him. He was so gentle and affectionate with me (except when he was shooting his copious loads, when he would instinctively push my head down hard & jam his cock down my throat), that I got addicted to the ripe funky odor of his grey haired cock & balls. After he came we'd cuddle, & all he practically had to do was gently hold my hard cock in his gnarled, calloused hand & I'd cum. I was embarrassed about having so little control, but I was too turned on by him to prolong it. He'd pull out his filthy red handkerchief, wipe off his hand & my dick & we'd fall asleep.
One day I'd had the most unbelievable luck panhandling. A housewife in her mid 30s had taken me into a mom and pop convenience store, gotten a large empty paper bag from the owner & had me fill it up. Local news travelled fast in Dalhart, so she knew I was hanging out with "some other boys." (Except for Orlando & me, they were all old hobos.) She kept urging me to put more in the bag, which came to over $20 & embarrassed the hell out of me. Orlando passed the goodies around as if he were my manager; and the next day, even though we still had plenty for us and "the boys," sent me out to panhandle again, saying "Never mind the food this time, Cherry. Get us some money."
Well, I didn't get food OR money that time. I got the whole bloody bunch of us busted & taken to the Dallam County Sheriff's Office, consisting then of a small office room with an even smaller room leading off it, one small barred cell & one larger cell. It was manned by two bored Gomer Pyle type deputies, and occasionally visited by other deputies & cops. Those guys knew every one of the 4 old hobos by their first names. Bodean merited special treatment, being placed apart from the rest of us in the small cell. It didn't take long to find out why. Separated from his booze, he would see hostile men in the corner of his cell, start calling for help and actually violently shadow box those phantoms. I silently thanked God he'd always been drunk with me.
There had been no formal trial or sentencing. Five of us shared one toilet in the middle of the cell. There were 3 bunks, so Orlando & I slept on mats on the floor. We got two meals a day ordered from a nearby burger joint. Having to listen to Bodean yelling in terror when he wasn't sleeping, and listening to an endless round of weary hobo tales, on the 3rd day I suddenly remembered I'd had a pack of Camels the deputies had appropriated, so I said to one of them as he passed our cell, "Could you ask the cat who took my smokes if I can have them back?" I knew I'd blown it when Orlando, the 3 old hobos in our cell & even Bodean across the way all groaned.
Nothing happened right away, so I forgot about it, until an hour later an enormously fat, tall uniformed cop in his 50s stepped up to the bars &, scowling, said "Hey boy! Yeah you! Come here." I obeyed. "Are you the cool cat?" he asked. I was petrified & couldn't answer. The cop called to one of the Pyle twins to open the cell door, which a deputy, broadly smiling, obligingly did, saying "You ain't gonna hurt him too much, are you Junior? Little puff of a thang don't look like he could stand much of a whippin'." "I know what I'm doin'," Junior mumbled. "I know that's right," the deputy giggled, "back room again?" "Back room again," echoed Junior, squeezing my arm painfully & unnecessarily yanking me forward through the cluttered office.
As we traversed the room, I got to see the surroundings through the windows. The daylight, contrasted with the dingy cell, seemed unnaturally bright, but I was being forced along so quickly I couldn't make out much beyond the barren yard. As we entered the smaller windowless room & old Junior, locking the door, switched on the single dangling bare bulb which illuminated nothing but one straight backed chair in the middle of the dusty wood panelled floor, I spontaneously let my mind go blank, ready to get it over with.
He stood facing me, his jowly bulldog face scowling down at my somewhat slouched 5'7" stature. I was ready to shit my pants. In a near whisper, Junior said "Don't be afraid. I ain't really gonna hurt you, but I gotta do somethin' them boys can hear, and I promise, you WILL feel it. Understand?" "Ye-yeah, I guess," I stammered. "Shush! Not so loud," he whispered, and in that barely audible deep timbre, throwing his powerful arms around me and hugging me so tight against his enormous belly I could hardly breathe, he said, "I knowed you's a good boy the minute I saw you. Why you hangin' around with them dirty old men?" When he let up enough for me to talk, I whispered, "I'm on the road, Sir. Just having fun." "Well I'm gonna give you somethin' to remind you to avoid that kind of fun from now on."
He dropped his lard ass onto the chair & roughly jerked me toward him; then surprised me by saying loud enough to be heard in the adjoining office, "Drop your pants, boy," which I quickly did. Then I surprised myself when I realized I must have had a raging hard-on from the moment he'd spoken tenderly. My dick was actually dangling a string of pre-cum. Junior at that point even more closely resembled a bulldog, when saliva started freely flowing from the corners of his lips down his double chins.
A wonderful surprise met me, as Junior breathed out a contented sigh &, pulling me closer, engulfed my entire 7 inches: He had no teeth! (I recalled an uncle who hated dentures and had trained himself to sound & appear as if he had teeth.) I had never experienced such velvety wetness, but not knowing the protocol for unloading in a cop's mouth, I whispered, "Sir, may I please have an orgasm?" "That's my good boy," he softly intoned as he pulled away, "you have good manners. No, you do not have my permission yet. I still have to give you the discipline a boy like you needs."
As he held me back from him, for the first time I clearly focused on his billy club & holstered gun; an all time first for a sex encounter. Then came another first: Without getting out of the chair, as if I weighed practically nothing, he lifted me face down horizontally & set me across his lap.
I didn't have to wait or wonder. WHACK! That huge fat hand came down full force on my ass, and it fucking hurt! I had no doubt the deputies heard it & were cracking up. My dick was uncomfortably cramped against his thick legs; perhaps he noticed, since he separated them a bit for my dick to slip between, then closed them again, which actually felt good against the material of his uniform. WHACK! I hadn't had a spanking since I was 5, & I certainly did not remember it being this painful. My heart was racing, both with sexual excitement and real fear, as the blows increased exponentially in frequency & with no let up of force.
Now I was angry & experienced a nearly irresistible impulse to get the fuck off his lap & punch him in his ugly face; but remembering his gun & club restrained me. The now almost painful rubbing of my dick as it bobbed up & down against his starched pants & his legs squeezed in on it, got it harder & more swollen than I could remember. My whole body was reflexively jumping up with each violent slap. With the slight reasoning ability I still retained, I realized I must be drenching his uniform with pre-cum. Finding myself now in a timeless realm comprised of equal pain, fear and sexual pleasure, I had no way of knowing how long my spanking actually went on; and then something in me snapped. I neither wanted it to go on or to stop. Being spanked by Junior was my world, my reality; I completely surrendered.
I must have momentarily lost consciousness, because the next thing I knew, I was sitting in Junior's lap while he covered my face with wet kisses. "You gonna suck my dick, boy? Are ya?" he kept whispering. Then he hitched up his shirt, letting his big man boobs flop down over his huge hairy belly. That drove me crazy! As I leaned forward to take one of his hairy old breasts in my mouth, the pain from my well-punished ass made me wince & pause a moment. "Yeah boy," said Junior, "you gonna have considerable trouble sittin' on that thing awhile. Now what do you say when the nice policeman gives you a spankin'?" "Oh thank you Sir," I breathed, "for helping me to be a good boy." "Oh Christ," he muttered, forcing my head down on a breast, "you're too fuckin' good to be true!" I tongued & played with those amazing fat tits as he ran his fingers through my hair. Then he lifted me off himself, set me on my feet & stood up, whispering, as he unbuckled & slid down his pants & oversized briefs, "You like my big belly, don't you son? Well here's somethin' else you're gonna like." His nice thick uncircumcised cock must have been ten inches long. I had expected it to be rock hard like mine, but it was completely flaccid. "That's right, son. I can't please the ladies no more. That's why I need a good boy like you to help me."
I was only too happy to help, & secretly pleased that his monster cock wasn't going to present too much of a challenge after the workout I'd just been through. I got down on my knees & went to work, taking into my mouth as much as I could. Even on soft that thing was more than a mouthful. "Oh yeah boy," he groaned, "you were made to please a man like me. This is what I needed for so long," followed by: "Goddamn, I have to pee. Sorry, boy, I'm gettin' old, I can't hold it like I used to, & I ain't goin' out there now. Listen, I used to have a little woman who loved to drink my piss. Think you can handle that? I don't want to make a mess in here. Think you can be my toilet boy? It's just a little piss." "Just a little?" I asked. "Listen, I can't hold it. Just be good," he said, forcibly holding my head tight against him so that his cock was touching the back of my throat. I just let myself relax as he turned on his faucet. Mercifully, he was right. It was a slow, steady old guy trickle that didn't last too long, & I found myself enjoying the warm, bitter drink. When it ended, he relaxed his grip. I pulled back to catch my breath & looked up to see him smiling behind that great hairy belly. That had been a first for me, & I felt proud. I was a policeman's toilet boy!
The knocking on the door startled both of us. "Everything OK in there, Junior?" asked a deputy. "Everything's fine, Kyle, this boy just needs some special attention." "OK then, Junior, just makin' sure." "Motherfuckers," Junior grumbled, "they know they're not supposed to do that. Let me feed you some dessert now, Sweetie." I went back to work & it wasn't long before his cock chubbed up pretty good & I was rewarded with a slow dribble of thick, actually sweet, cum that seemed like it would never stop. I made sure I got every last spurt.
"Alright, Son, your turn," said Junior, plopping his fat ass back on the chair, placing his huge hands on my still smarting butt & drawing my aching cock into that slobbering, toothless mouth. Looking down at his strong, fat old body, I watched him encircle the shaft of my dick in one hand as he gently teased its head with his tongue, then scooped up my balls with his other hand, sucking & rolling them around in his mouth. I don't know where Junior learned that, but this cop was a practiced cocksucker!
I realized I was experiencing an unaccustomed ability to prolong my orgasm, but Junior slapped my sore ass hard & painfully three times, began jacking my cock violently & said "I'm givin' you my permission, boy. Don't be shy. Nothin' to be embarrassed about. Let the nice policeman see what a stud you are." I leaned my legs into that enormous belly, placed my hands on his broad shoulders and felt all my pent-up sperm shoot full force into his hungry hot mouth, as he gazed up lovingly into my face.
There was no fanfare whatever when we emerged from that back room. The two deputies in the office paid no attention to us, & just went on sorting papers while glancing at a news broadcast on a small black & white TV against the wall.
The old hobos knew the drill; they would let us out (all except for skinny old Pervis, the real old-timer, whom they probably felt sorry for & wanted to feed for a few more days) just as soon as Bodean was reliably recovered from his DTs, which took the better part of a week. The routine was to allow the hobos to hop another freight (what else could they do?), but a deputy drove Orlando & me to the edge of town, where they had made arrangements for a Greyhound bus to pick us up & transport us clear out of Dallam County, signing off with the obligatory "Don't come back, or we won't let you off so easy next time."
I know it sounds corny, but my heart was aching for Junior; not only because of the kinky sex, but because of one last encounter I had with him. When they opened the cells & ushered us out into the unaccustomedly bright daylight, while the deputy who was to drive Orlando & me to our rendezvous was doing something with his squad car engine, I heard a deep voice say, "Hey, where you goin', boy?" Junior, whom I hadn't seen since our back room adventure a few days before, was coming around the side of the building. Ignoring Orlando, he wordlessly handed me my nearly full pack of Camels. I didn't discover until later that he'd slipped 2 twenties into the pack. He was visibly trembling as he glared down at me & whispered, "I wish I had a boy like you." Then he quickly turned away & walked back into the building, where I could hear him loudly laughing & joking around with a couple of deputies.
Uma
- 11.12.2021
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