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BASTARDS WHO FUCKED OVER ME
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7 Vincent and his teeny weenie that made me feel hung.
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I probably managed to insult and/or piss off George because he
told Vincent from across the alley about me. Vincent was truly
pussy-whipped. HIs mother was a rabid Jehovah's Witless. His
three -- count 'em -- sisters were going to grow up to be as
annoying and proper as mommy. Wherever they went they had their
specially translated Bibles and a flock of Watchtower rags.
I had their respect because I was not only a churchgoer but a
musician therein. Even so, did I know that my church was corrupt
and fallen away from the True Path, and that when Jehovah-God
sets up His Divine Theocracy, I'll be lost? Oh, please. (And
don't give me anymore AWAKE! magazines to take home. If I
brought them into the house, my mother would have cats.) But I
played along.
I put up with this nonsense because I wanted to get at Vince.
His terribly strict but non-religious father was French. His
mother was Mexican. I love these mixed marriages. They make
such *pretty* boys... Vince had blue-grey eyes and light brown
hair he kept in a perpetual crew cut. His smile was a big as all
outdoors, and he had the most fetching dimples. He was a little
younger than I and just as horny as the devil. His stifling home
atmosphere gave him the characteristics of a preacher's kid. He
was always ready to do something daring or underhanded. When he
got caught, his father would beat him unmercifully.
Robert and I didn't see each other often because he was rarely
allowed to visit elsewhere in the neighborhood. I didn't want to
go over there because his mother would get me locked into a
religious discussion. That or his sisters would start acting
real cunty. What we would do was come home from school together.
He would take care of making an excuse to his mother about
staying after school for football practice and he would come over
to my place. We felt quite free of risk because our folks didn't
know each other.
The mother knew I was a "brain" and so when Vince was about to
flunk English grammar, she felt I was an ideal tutor. Soon my
den was seeing even more use. Not all of it was for study though
I did help him get straightened out on that. He knew
some Spanish from his mother and I knew some from school. We
would take a sticky grammatical problem and translate it into
Spanish and then back out again. It helped me to apply a second
language and it helped him to keep his heritage alive. When the
problem was transferred back into English, chances are the
grammatical misconception got cleared as well. His grades came
up nearly as easily as our dicks.
I was disappointed with Vince's endowment. I'm not a size queen
though I _can_ be impressed. There _is_ a minimum amount of
gristle necessary to make the panocha whistle. I played a lot of
mouth organ solos for that boy. He had a good time, but I was
left to wank. If I wanted him to fuck me, he'd go for it, but
about all he could do was nudge my starfish a little -- not that
this didn't feel quite good. It just didn't do much for him
except help him do push-ups better, heh. (
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