Chapter 4
"Christ," Spud said aloud, to himself, "this kind of life sure takes the lead out of a guy's dick!"
He hated to go on home, but he crawled into his old heap and started up the motor.
His mom was crying when he got home. His pop started calling him every dirty name he could think of, and Spud called him a few right back.
His pop demanded to know how he'd been released.
"Coach got me out!" Spud hurled defiantly. "If I had to depend on you, I'd rot in that goddamned place!"
"You damned right!" his pop hurled back. Acting unreasonable, like he always did, he tried to make Spud say he'd done wrong and was sorry.
"You shouldn't speed, Gilbert," his mom sobbed helplessly. Turning to Spud's old man, she added, "Gilbert never done nothing wrong, he never gives me no trouble."
It was obvious that Spud's pop felt quite differently. "He never gives us nothing but trouble! Tell him to get in at ten, and he marches in at midnight! Tell him to do something, and he'll do the opposite!"
Spud knew that in attempting not to inhibit him, his mom had merely made herself anxious and afraid. Goddamn her silly Victorian restrictions! When he'd gotten too much for her to handle, she'd blamed the school.
"They keep promoting him and promoting him," she'd accuse. "And why? Just because he sits there. He can't read! I tell you, it's the school's fault!"
She kept twisting the corners of her apron. Spud's pop cursed again.
"You young punk!" he growled nastily to Spud. "You think you own the world!"
"Just give me time, and I'll slice off my share of it," Spud came back sarcastically.
His pop really lost his temper then and started slapping him around.
Spud grabbed his wrists and held them. His mom sobbed louder, begging him to release his old man. Spud felt so downhearted and miserable he turned his old man loose.
"A lot you two care about me!"
"Maybe I didn't impress upon you that the law ain't made for punk kids to break!" his pop raved.
Spud stopped listening.
It was the same old tune. Young people weren't citizens! They weren't even human!
Suddenly, Spud's pop stopped beating his gums and held out his hand.
"Your car keys, Gilbert," he demanded. "I'm taking away your driving privileges for six months."
Spud drew back.
"The hell you are! You can't do that!" "You think I can't?"
Without his car, Spud couldn't stay after school for football practice. The new housing project where they lived was some distance from town, and there wasn't even a bus line out to Doomsville. Nothing but married couples with bawling kids! He'd have no way to get to his week-end job at the ice plant. He'd have no way to cruise around, looking for pussy. Hell, he'd have no social life! He might as well be back in jail!
He looked at his mom. She might have helped him out, but she couldn't stand up any better against his old man than he could.
"Your car keys, Gilbert," his pop repeated.
Spud took them from his pocket and threw them on the floor at his pop's feet.
"Pick them up!"
"Kiss my ass!" Spud gritted.
He shrugged his broad shoulders as he turned and went upstairs to his room, the room his old man thought he ought to be everlastingly grateful for. It was just a room, nothing at all to excite anybody.
He sat on his bed and tried to hold back his anger. He wanted to let every inch of his six-foot frame go and bawl like a baby. He stretched out on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut to close out the world. He heard his pop start up his car and knew he was going to work. Other sounds told him his mom was in the kitchen preparing a breakfast he wouldn't be able to eat. Experiences like he'd gone through just naturally take away the appetite.
He lay there, trying to think of nothing. But Frani sneaked into his thoughts. Maybe he ought to talk to Coach about Frani. He could talk freely with Coach. But just mention a girl around his folks and he'd start a catastrophe! They acted like he ought to be afraid of women. They thought a girl who smoked was a downright whore, and they didn't dream that kids liked to fuck around, the same as married folks. They looked up to teachers - even old Rankin.
Spud had tried to tell his mom that girls had more freedom now than they'd had in her day.
"You think I'm ancient, don't you, Gilbert?" she'd come back at him. "You don't believe I ever was young, do you?"
He didn't answer. But the truth was he didn't. Everything ht did was wrong. His folks didn't understand him. They didn't even try to! A lot of the other kids felt just like he did, and maybe that's why they banded together in clubs where they could command respect, consideration, and attention, items they couldn't get at home.
He felt tired, hot, and dirty, after his night in jail.
He got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower.
He got under the shower and stayed longer than he intended to. The warm water, running over his body and down his crotch, did something to him. He felt his cock, hard and thrusting up. He reached down and rubbed it, grasped it, and squeezed.
His breath hissed as he rubbed his heavy, swollen prong and massaged its head. He got himself into an agitated state, trembling and panting.
"Shit!" he said, letting go of his cock, reaching up to turn on the cold water.
The cold water wilted his penis and quenched some of the fire that burned in Spud. He stepped out of the shower and saw in the full length mirror on the door that patches of hair clung to his chest like dark gauze. A heavy growth of hair traveled from his belly down to his crotch, where pubic hair fanned upward in abandon.
His big organ emerged from encircling curls, past his heavy testicles, each perfectly shaped. Lots of guys with big bodies left something to be desired in the cock area, but not Spud!
Proudly, he stared at himself. He couldn't help it! He was beautifully endowed, and it made him a little heady as he continued admiring himself. The whole of his organ, its length, shape, was well-made. The head was smoothly rounded to perfection. He studied his cock's minute details, the coloration, the veins, the relaxed foreskin, before he began toweling vigorously. The motion, causing the heavy swing of his dick, revealed the thick cord underneath.
"Damn!" he said aloud, wanting desperately to fondle it again. He felt nervous. He used to relieve himself that way - before he'd had a woman. It was nice that way, when a guy didn't know any better. But jacking off only frustrated him now, and he wanted none of it.
He finished toweling, folded the towel and hung it on a rack. With a free, swinging walk, he went into the bedroom, opened the bureau drawer, and pulled out a fresh pair of briefs.
He was reluctant to put them on as he feasted his eyes on himself. But finally, he slipped into them and put on a short-sleeved sport shirt. He took his time getting into his pants. When he was finally dressed, he lay down across the bed.
He put his arms behind his head and lay with his ankles crossed, wiggling his toes. He lifted his back, unconsciously, and his basket arched upward, a huge mound. Jesus, he needed a cunt! He lay there and called up the image of Frani, pretending she strained toward him with outstretched hands. He recalled his image in the bathroom mirror, imagining Frani before him, both of them naked. His cock throbbed.
He was ready for activity. Action, man!
When he heard his mom coming upstairs, he rolled to one side to hide his erection. She knocked on the door and called, "Breakfast, Gilbert."
"I'm not hungry, Mom."
"You should eat something."
"Mom, I don't want anything! Can't you understand?"
He began raving about how his pop had acted, and his thoughts cooled him. His cock had wilted by the time his mom opened the door and came on in.
"You should be ashamed of the way you talked to your father!" she scolded. "Now, you'd better come eat and get ready for school."
"Mom, I'm not going to school!"
"And why not, Gilbert Jamison?"
"I ain't gonna walk, that's all!"
Yet, Spud wished to see Coach - and Frani. He wanted to ask Coach if there was anything wrong in feeling the way he did about girls, especially Frani. And he was sorry for the way he'd treated Frani, and he wanted to apologize. It was wrong to force a girl if she wasn't willing.
His mom begged.
Spud clammed up.
Finally, she shrugged and left his room. Spud lay on the bed and thought about going down to the phone and calling Frani. But his mom would be all ears, so he gave that up, though Frani stayed in his thoughts until his cock hardened again and he went half-crazy with desire for her.
He decided he was hungry.
When he sneaked down to the kitchen, Hazel Rankin was there, drinking coffee with his mom. By the looks on their faces, he knew they'd been discussing him.
As he poured himself a cup of coffee, his mom gave him a sheepish smile. Not willing to relinquish his anger, he ignored her and stared at Hazel.
Maybe it was those tight shorts she wore, or the way she was sitting. He'd always thought Hazel was a pretty good looker, but he'd never realized before what a genuine knockout she was. He supposed he'd always associated her too closely with her mangy old husband. But, man, she had perfect legs and thighs! She must have been years younger than Rankin. Spud wanted to slide his hand over her bare, silky flesh, fondle her nice tits under her tight, thin blouse, and part the lips of her cunt.
"Your mom tells me you're the original hard-luck kid, Spud," she said.
Spud blushed.
But her eyes held sympathy, and when they flashed admiringly over his wide shoulders, he didn't object to her call him "kid."
She added warmly, "I'm sorry, Spud."
His mom's mouth was all screwed up. "He did wrong, and he's got to be punished," she said piously.
There beside Hazel Rankin, his mom looked old, and Spud wondered why Hazel bothered to visit with her. They had nothing in common.
But then Hazel didn't have any friends in the neighborhood on account of her crabby old husband. A lot of other people didn't like old Rankin any better than Spud did.
His mom kept gabbing, making Spud feel awful.
"Gilbert's father took his car keys away from him," she told Hazel. "He speeded -" "I know," Hazel replied, looking sympathetically at Spud. "I heard you all discussing it this morning." She winked at Spud, like she was on his side. He blushed because his mom and pop had yelled so loud that the neighbors had heard. "Maybe you'd better change your handle from Spud to Speed, eh, kid?" Hazel teased.
He liked the way her blue eyes sparkled, the way she tossed her blonde head when she turned back to his mom.
"When you get right down to it," she said, "almost everyone has speeded."
"That's right!" Spud agreed, grateful for her support. Though his mom frowned, he went on accusingly, "Pop speeds lots of times, only he's sneaky about it! Grown people can break the law, but just let a teenager do it, and there's no justice!" An ugly bitterness was again getting into Spud.
"That's enough, Gilbert!"
His mom went over to the stove and began doing something. It was her usual way of ending an argument.
When she finally turned back, she said, "Gilbert, you'd better go and get ready for school."
"Mom, I told you I wasn't going to school!"
"You'll have a lot of make-up work to do," his mom reminded.
"Cut it out, Mom!" Spud growled, hating the way she acted in front of Hazel. "I'm not a baby! I'm eighteen!"
"And mature for his age, too, if you ask me," Hazel added, admiration in her eyes, as she laughed to show pretty, white teeth.
She stood up, and Spud noticed how slim her waist was, how beautifully her hips rounded out. He caught himself gawking and hoped she hadn't noticed.
But their eyes met, and he knew she had.
She wasn't angry. She laughed again, as if they shared an intimate secret. Her laugh was deep, full, and sexy. It seemed to come from the bottom of her throat and sounded inviting. It made Spud's cock begin to rise.
She said, "I don't think you need to worry about Spud, Mrs. Jamison. I bet he can take care of himself."
Spud thanked her with his eyes, noting her lips were red against her teeth and tanned skin as she smiled. Her eyes clouded, and she said softly, "I wish I were eighteen again. I'd know better than to get myself tied down."
Spud's breath caught. His mom grunted her disapproval.
"So you're foolish enough to wish you were a giddy eighteen!" she scolded mildly. "And you not out of your twenties yet, I'd bet a dollar! You with no kids, and a man who lets you do as you please!"
There was envy in her voice. Spud hadn't known she envied Hazel.
Wistfully, Hazel said, "I wish Ronald was more friendly to people. You're the only neighbor I've got." She sighed her loneliness. "Ronald's up at school or out of town on school business practically all the time." Her manner changed, and she went over and put a gentle hand on Mom's shoulder.
"Listen to me gripe," she said, trying to laugh. "Me, with hardly anything to do! And you take care of this house, and two grown men - and do a lot of club work besides!"
"Two grown men!" Hazel had said. At least, Spud thought, she didn't consider him an infant!
He had to admit that his mom did work pretty hard. She was a fussy housekeeper and drove herself with volunteer club work, PTA meetings, and all that crap. She looked tired a lot of the time, and Spud began to feel guilty about it. She did a lot of work for him. But he hated the way she babied him, hated living out in Creepsville, a hundred miles from nowhere. But he shouldn't take it out on his mom.
It was all his pop's fault!
He was trying to think of something nice to say to his mom, when Hazel interrupted. "Well, goodbye," she said. "Thanks for the coffee."
Spud watched her leave, fascinated by the way she walked. How did old sourpuss Rankin rate a piece of ass like that?
After Hazel left, Spud's mom ignored him and got busy washing the dishes.
Spud went back to his room and fell across the bed, his thoughts now on Hazel. Man, he bet she was hot cunt! It was as though he'd made a wonderful discovery, and little by little, his troubles diminished until they didn't seem real.
But Hazel was real!
He ached to stick his prick in her, wondering if the hairs around her pussy were blonde, like her head, or black. He began to compare her with Frani. What a contrast those two made!
He got a painfully hard erection as he wondered why he'd never really noticed Hazel before. He supposed it was because some of his dislike for her old husband had transferred to her.
But, shit, she wasn't at all like her mealy old man! And now, he was aware of her in a way that scared him some, but excited him a lot more.
Je-zus, how he'd like to cram his hot cock up her snatch!
He got up and looked out the window. Hazel was emptying garbage, and when she raised her arms, Spud thrilled to the way her bosom lifted, like Frani's, only bigger, and a lot more mature.
His thoughts disrobed her shamelessly, and she stood out there, naked and beautiful, her flesh like ivory, with a triangle of dark onyx between her wonderful legs.
His cock throbbed. It was pushing hurtingly against his briefs. Until Hazel went back into the house, Spud could hardly get his breath. He had to lie down again. He closed his eyes.
He let his dreams take over.
Jez-us Christ, was he going to come in his pants?
He rolled over on his belly and mashed his cock into the mattress. After a minute, the throbbing stopped, and Spud could breathe again. He didn't know why, but he began thinking about something that had happened last summer. Bryce had taken him to a whorehouse, and it had been his first experience of that kind.
The whole scene came back to him. The place had been jumping, all the girls operating at high pitch. A couple of them had groped Spud, and he'd laughed.
"It's wild tonight!" Bryce had said.
"Crazy!" Spud had added.
Bryce explained the situation. "Some of them girls do it thirty - forty - times a night, with different fellows. If a guy wants a lay-down job, they've got rooms in back. Ten bucks for half an hour, whether you get your gun off, or not. Want to try it?"
Spud didn't fuck anything that night. He figured that a girl who had been screwed a dozen or more times before him wouldn't be much good.
His thoughts came back to the present, and Hazel. He wondered how many times she could take it stuck up in her in one night. Christ, he figured he could screw her forever and never get enough!
It had been hot in the whorehouse, and the whole place had had a bad smell. A ceiling fan buzzed, failing to do more than fan in more hot air. He and Bryce had taken a table. They'd ordered cool rum drinks as they watched guys pair off with girls and head for the back rooms.
Spud had had about three drinks, and everything had gone fuzzy. Bryce started urging him to go to one of the back rooms.
"Hell, no!" he said. "But you go ahead, if you want to. I mean, if you're like hot and have to."
"That's the trouble. I'm too hot for a bed job.
I'd lose my load right away, and it wouldn't be worth the money."
"Me, too," Spud had said. "Too hot to last."
Bryce didn't drop the conversation. He'd pushed back from the table so Spud could see everything clearly. His hard, hot cock was outlined inside his pants. Quickly, he unzipped with trembling fingers and yanked his dick out. "Man, I've got to do something with this goddamned thing!"
He spit on it and began masturbating.
Spud grinned. He felt Bryce press his leg hard against his. He had stopped masturbating.
"Woow - eee," Bryce said, "I gotta piss! Where's the men's room?"
He got up, and Spud followed him through the noisy, pushing crowd, a surge of excitement getting into him. The dimly lit men's room was empty. Bryce led the way to twin urinals, unzipped his fly, and pulled his cock out. He weaved to and fro before the urinal, unsteady on his feet. Spud felt high, too.
"I got to piss so bad it's flooding up into my mouth!" Bryce said. "But I can't! Hey, look, I'm hard as a piece of steel!"
Bryce had a cock as big as Spud did. He was drawing Spud's attention to it, an enormous, tilted tower of flesh.
Spud had his own dick hanging out, pointed into the urinal. He, also, was getting a pretty stiff erection.
"Whattsa matter?" Bryce asked. "Can't you piss?"
"I guess not," Spud told him. Bryce reached over and groped him. Spud pulled back. Damn, didn't Bryce realize the door might fly open at any time?
"Fuck, you're hot, too!" Bryce lowered his head, concentrating now on his own erection. He began to jerk it. "Ahhh," he sighed, continuing to beat hell out of it. "Get with yours, Spud," he said.
"That's for kids!"
Bryce beat his like crazy until he shot off in the urinal. Then he zipped up.
They left the whorehouse, and outside Bryce sighed and said, "A guy can get the stone ache if he don't get his nuts off sometimes. Hell, I wish now I'd banged one of them girls!"
"Why didn't you?" Spud asked.
"Hell, I'm married! Shit, that's not the reason! I just like the old hand machine sometimes!"
Spud lay on his bed and told himself that, after all, sex was natural - simple. Why complicate it? Let a guy enjoy his kicks in his own way. Some guys liked pussy. Some liked a blow job. Hell, some liked it any old way. His hand began inching down his leg before he realized it. When he realized what he was doing, he drew it back. Let Bryce have it that way if he wanted to! Spud would hold out for a hot, juicy slit!
He kept his eyes closed and imagined Hazel's red lips on his. His excitement grew and became almost unbearable. He pretended to slip his tongue between her teeth and caress the inside of her mouth until she went crazy for him. His cock throbbed with the painful stirrings of desire.
His thoughts became fiery real. When he could bear the teasing hotness no longer, he got up and shucked out of his clothes. He kicked them away and stared into the mirror, admiring his hard cock, the dark hairs on his chest.
Then he took Coach's advice for such occasions. He headed for the bathroom and took a cold shower.
When he went back to lie on the bed, he felt some relief. Thoughts of old Rankin came, and he couldn't chase them away. Old Rankin looked mean and angry.
But in real life, he gave you mostly the impression that he didn't have guts enough to stand up to anybody, or for anything. Spud wondered about his sex life with Hazel and bet Rankin couldn't satisfy her!
He'd heard his mom and pop discussing the subject once. "Rankin probably has ulcers from living with that broad!" his pop had declared.
His mom had taken Hazel's side, of course, not knowing that Spud was listening. "If anybody's got ulcers, it ought to be her!" she'd defended. "That man's cold and unfriendly, and I just bet he ain't a real husband to her twice a year! He leaves her sitting home by herself all the time!"
"She shouldn't be hanging around here!" his pop had said flatly. "She spells trouble, and I've got troubles of my own!"
Meaning me, Spud thought angrily.
But if his pop had troubles, he should have stopped to consider Spud. He was virtually a prisoner without his car, confined to his home like he was in jail.
About all he could do was dream in the privacy of his bedroom.
But now he had Hazel Rankin to dream about.