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All This Time


By Chris Carr


June, 2016













 It's summer 1998 and Keone has demons haunting him. An ambitious inner-city youth, the boy scrapple's with gangs, drugs and poverty. Still, this isn't his greatest challenge. Lately questions plague him about his budding sexuality. Nagging questions to which he turns to friends and confidants for answers. Follow him as he struggles to "handle his" while searching for answers.

A comprehensive work the story develops over several chapters the first coming soon!





For the third time that morning, Keone rolled over, refusing to release his hold on the bed. He knew he'd have to get up, eventually, but damned if he wouldn't give up without a fight. School was out his mother already gone to work, he'd earned this luxury, and intended to enjoy it as long as possible.

Tossing again, he lay on his stomach, pinning his piss-hardon between his body and the mattress. Clutching his pillow, he slowly pushed his pelvis into the bed. Incredible sensations rocketing from his midsection, they radiated throughout his body causing him to repeat his slow thrust. This time he heard himself exhale. Grating his erection across the covers again, he accepted his fate. His limited experience with things sexual had taught him at least one thing, you don't argue with a hard dick.

Allowing himself one last pelvic thrust, Keone turned onto his back. Lifting the covers, he gazed at the wonder, throbbing between his legs. Gripping it he squeezed, marveling at the bead of pre-cum materializing at its head. At an early age he'd discovered his dick could do more than pee and ever since he'd learn to jack off he couldn't get enough. Pulling the foreskin snapped tight around the head back, he felt his balls constrict, snuggling in close to his warm body. Slipping the foreskin over the head, he relished in the rush of feelings issuing from his sensitive glans. He’d tried prolonging these incredible sensations a hundred times to no avail. Eventually his willful dick would win out, forcing him to wring the life out of it, leaving him empty… longing. Relenting, he started the ritual, old as time, whipping his hand about the head of his dick. Like clockwork, his pelvis started thrashing about, slinging his dick into his beating hand. His breathing rapid, his chest rose and fell as his pace increased. Slapping his hand wickedly about the head of his dick, his stomach quivered, his body becoming tense.

"Aww!" he grunted, toes curling.

"Ssss… Aww!" The age-old sounds, familiar as the feelings, accompanied his fast approaching climax. Holding the covers high, he gazed at his dick, his clutching hand extracting the precious juices. Writhing about on the bed, he delivered droplets of spewing cum onto his quivering stomach. Decreasing to a dribble, it leaked into his pubic hair. Held in the power of his climax, Keone moaned loudly, glad for the solitude of his little home. Squeezing the last drops from his dick, he finally regained a sense of coherency; when you're this young, getting off could be gut wrenching.






The neighborhood pool was one of the few community recreations available to children in the inner city. With community programs scarce, the pool was one of few outlets. For the greater part of the summer it would be teeming with children of various ages, splashing around and frolicking under the baking sun. For Keone, it was a means to gain a little financial independence.

Pulling Keone aside, Jordie complained,

"Yo, shorty, I told you I'd see about getting you a job. What Russell doin here?"

"He met me on the way here, man. I couldn't ditch the nigga," Keone whispered.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure I can get you work 'round here. You bests to get rid of him, a'ight?"


"You get rid of him, come back to my office," Jordie instructed, leaving the boy.

Turning to Russell, Keone hedged,

"Russell, I guess there ain't enough jobs to go around, man. Sorry, dude"

Russell hunched his shoulders, "S'alright. See you later, man."

Waiting until Russell left, Keone went to Jordie's office.

"Yo, Jordie, my bad man, I'm sorry for bringin Russell, man."

"Don't sweat it, shorty, it's just, I can only hire so many of you young dudes, anyway."

Hopeful, Keone petitioned, "So, you got something for me?"

"Well…" Jordie shuffled papers on his desk, "Just 'bout all the positions have been filled, homey."

"Aw, com'on, Jordie. Can't you let me do sumpin' round here?"

Still looking through papers, the 22 year old finally offered, "How 'bout you just stop by here every day, and I'll see if I got something for you, a'ight?"

"A'ight. How 'bout today, though?"

"Ain't nothin to do today, Keone. Check with me tomorrow, a'ight?"

"Ok," Keone sulked. Walking off, he paused, looking back. "Yo, Jordie, what you doing tonight?"

"I got a client I got to meet with tonight, shorty, sorry." Head down, Keone left. Exiting the building, he ran into Russell.

"So what he say? You get a job?"

"He not sure. He said all the positions already taken. Dang! I should've came in here LAST week!" Keone brooded.

Deep in thought, he walked his bike down the block, oblivious of Russell's presence.

"Where you goin'?"

"Huh? Oh. Back to my house," Keone stated, finally aware the boy was still trailing. "Why? Where you goin'?" Russell hunched his shoulders.

"Com’on then.”






On a day not unlike the day before, the sound of a noisy police helicopter roused him from a deep sleep. Keone threw his pillow over his head, grasping at the last ravages of sleep, desperately trying to block the sound out. The unrelenting helicopter refusing to let up, he finally surrendered, trudging through the house naked. Parading around the house naked was a stolen pleasure he reveled in, the titillation of possibly being seen as he passed the open windows making it even more tempting.

By the time he'd made it to the bathroom he was stone hard, which presented a problem as his bladder was begging for release. Turning on the shower he stepped in, relishing the sensation of his emission jetting into the flow of hot water. Standing beneath the hot water, he tugged on his foreskin, stretching it past the crown of his dick. He liked feeling his foreskin stretched tight around his dick like that. He'd tug on it often this way, sometimes unconsciously, stretching and manipulating it.

His dick never lost its erection and soon, the feel of the hot water pelting his raw dick was getting to him. An idea came to him, and he retrieved the water massage his mother had bought. Switching the flow to power massage, Keone aimed it at his throbbing dick. The sensation incredible, he cursed himself for not thinking of this before. His knees growing weak beneath him, he had to lie down before his they gave way. Spreading his legs extra wide, he aimed the nozzle at his asshole. Again, the sensation was unbelievable, his asshole quivering and contracting. Damn! I been missing out!

Extending his dick so that it towered from his groin, he re-aimed the flow, skinning his foreskin back. The hot water pummeling his exposed glans was overwhelming. His eyes rolled to back of his head, his mouth gaped open but he couldn't make any sounds. In the midst of all the stimulation rushing over him, the onset of his orgasm was almost enough to make him pass out. Doubling over in sheer ecstasy his leaping dick spurted, ropes of thick steamy boy juice raining down on him. Damn! I can feel it all in my balls! The pulsing water massage never yielded, slamming water over his sensitive dick head, washing away his cum as it leapt out.

His issue forced from his body, Keone lay back, exhausted. GODDAMN! His befuddled mind marveled. That was fucking incredible! Looking at the still pulsing water massage he thought, is that what this thing is for? Taking a few minutes before his unsteady legs could support him he finally stood, finishing his shower.

Drying off, he returned to the front room, plopping down on the sofa in front of his mother's sacred TV. Keone hated days like this when he had nothing to do. Turning the TV on, he lay on the couch, enjoying the sensation of its cloth against his naked body. His constantly roving hands searched and probed every part of his body as he watched, unconsciously tugging at his foreskin. Sometimes, Keone was a little troubled by how fixated he seemed with his body and how often he masturbated. Was this normal?

Growing tired of the TV, he rose and went into his room, the sudden ringing of the phone coming as somewhat of a surprise.


"WADUP, nigga!"

 Oh great, it was La Vel!

" 'Sup, La Vel?"

"Got a li'l sumpin, sumpin I think you gon' like over here. When can you stop by?"

"Was heading out the door now."

"A'ight. See you in a few."

Keone hung the phone up, troubled. Because La Vel wielded a measurable degree of influence in his hood, Keone had formed a tentative 'friendship' with him, hoping to avoid conflict. He wasn't that crazy about La Vel as much as he needed the boy's favor. The 'sumpin sumpin' he mentioned no doubt referred to a new batch of weed he'd gotten, or even worse, a new girly flick! Dressing in his trademark shorts and T-shirt, sans underwear again, he slipped his bare feet into his sneakers, jumping on his bike. Turning right at the corner, he headed south toward La Vel's house.



"Who is it?"

"It's me, Keone. Open up!"

The door flung open, and Keone was greeted by La Vel's dick! Aw, shit, La Vel got on that flimsy old bathrobe again.

"Damn nigga, why don't you ever close that thing?"

"Huh?" the boy said, looking down.

"You think I wants to be looking at yo dick first thing in the morning?"

"Nigga shut up!" La Vel snapped, pulling his robe closed. Stepping past the boy, Keone entered his small apartment.

"Where's everybody at?"

"My brother gone to that day camp, and my sister at her friend's house."

"Yeah, so what you doing today?"

"Just chillin. Sit down. Take a load off. You want something to drink?"

"Yeah, what you got?" Stepping into the apartment's modest kitchen La Vel called,

"I got some O.J., and some Pepsi, and some Old English, if you want."

"Pepsi'll do, a'ight?"

"A'ight, hold up."

Grabbing a couple of cans, La Vel returned to the living room. Keone couldn't help noticing his robe had flung open again, exposing his dangling dick. Why I come over here? He knew La Vel thought nothing of parading around half-naked in front of him, despite his constant requests for him to cover himself. How was it possible for a boy to be so comfortable exposing himself? Handing him a soda, La Vel joined him on the couch.

"So did you get yo li'l JOB?" the boy taunted.

How'd La Vel know he was looking for a job?

"Yeah, I started yesterday. How'd you know I was lookin for a job."

"You can get anything you want off da streets, nigga. You just gots to know where to look."

"Oh," Keone said, impressed.

"So what you gon' do with all that money, kid?"

"Don't start, La Vel."

"I wasn’t gon' say nothing. It's just, like I say, when you ready to make some real money, you can hook up with me and Kilo, nigga, 'stead 'working' fo them pennies you get at that pool."

Keone chose not to engage the boy, weary from the constant arguments they'd had over his decision to make an honest living.

"I get a few minutes free, though, I might drop by there," La Vel continued.

"You ain't gon' to do nothing but sit in here all day."

"Fo'get you nigga."

La Vel took several gulps from his soda, and sat back on the couch. Keone fought the compulsion to sneak a look at his crotch, certain his flimsy robe would be open again. When he found the desire to look intensifying, he inquired as to why La Vel had invited him over.

"Oh yeah! Check! I gots a new flick from my boy Silk, man!"

I knew it, Keone snorted, and this idiot got the nerves to be all happy 'bout it!

"No kiddin?"

"Yeah! So you want to see it or not?"

"Sure, why not?"

Waiting as the boy dashed to his room, Keone tried to get in the mood.

La Vel returned with a box emblazoned with buxom women all surrounding a black guy with an enormous dick. Does he need a license for that thing? Popping the film in the VCR, La Vel plopped down next to Keone commenting,

"You gon' like this one, nigga. Me and Trey was 'bout ta nut up when we watched it da other day! Its mo' fine bitches in here than you can count!"

"That's what you always saying."

"You just too picky."

The VCR kicking in, the boys watched as Jed Clampet's face transformed into a busty white woman, writhing on the aforementioned Black man's dick.

"God damn! Look at that bitch ride that thing," La Vel rallied.

Sitting back he cocked his legs his robe falling open, revealing his smooth chocolate legs. This was where the routine always got a little sticky for Keone. Seeing the boy's exposed legs, and knowing that he was getting aroused from watching the film, made Keone uncomfortable. He quickly refocused his attention on the film. How can anybody get hot looking at this shit, he thought, amazed at how distasteful the woman's jiggling tits were? Out the corner of his eye, he caught La Vel casually rubbing his dick. From the looks of it, his friend was getting rather stimulated from the scene unfolding on his TV.

The woman had jumped off the man now, the man grabbing his dick. The woman moved between his legs and started sucking, the monster eventually exploding all over her face.

"Look at that bitch suck that dick," La Vel sighed. "She getting me all hot, man."

La Vel made a big show of rubbing his dick, his long pipe now erect. Worried he might start sweating, Keone felt his body temp rising considerably. Seeing the imprint of La Vel's dick through his frail robe riveted Keone to the couch, his curiosity getting the best of him. He just HAD to see La Vel's dick, now!

"Dang, man, look. I'm getting all hard!"

La Vel peeled his robe back, his dick lying against his thigh. Keone took his obligatory look, forcing himself to not linger.

"You getting hard?"

"Yeah," Keone croaked.

"Told you this film was hot, nigga."

La Vel was so stimulated, he could hardly get the last words out, his voice wavering as he spoke. Praying he was looking at the TV, Keone chanced another look at the boy's exposed dick. His heart leapt in his throat when he saw La Vel hadn't covered it yet. Salivating, he gawked at La Vel's dick, pulsing against his thigh. A small trickle of precum oozing from the swollen head, it was somehow enticing. Unaware he was staring, Keone fell hopelessly deeper and deeper.

"You like that, don't you?" La Vel taunted, grabbing his dick.

  Jumping up Keone exclaimed, "Nigga you crazy!"

Stunned by the boy's reaction, La Vel shot back,

"Nigga you buggin! I was just messin with you."

"You sick, nigga!" Keone blasted. "I'm outta here!" Slamming the door, he left.




The hot southern California sun beaming on his head, Keone lazily hung his head out the window, wind from the fast moving car breezing across his face. Deep in thought, he watched as other fast moving cars whizzed by. Cars always fascinated the boy. Living in Southern Cal. , he had the enviable advantage of indulging his hobby, happily perusing the thousands of cars trekking the city. Searching the vehicles zipping by, he looked for his favorite, the new Volkswagen Beetle. What he wouldn't give to have one in black. His search failing, he turned to Jordie, a question on his face.

"What's up, kid?"

"Man, the weirdest thing happened to me the other day."

"Yeah, what was that?"

"It's that crazy nigga La Vel."

Stopping for a red light Jordie looked at Keone.

"Why you call him crazy?"

"Cause he is!"

"What he do that was so crazy, Keone?"

"Well, first off, that fool always walking 'round his house half naked."

"Half naked!"

"Yeah! His crusty ass be walking 'round with nothin on but this to'e up robe he got."

Speeding off, Jordie felt it best to turn the booming music down, Keone seemingly disturbed.

"Worse part 'bout it is, he don't close that thing up!" Keone sputtered.

"So he just walks around with his shit hanging out?"

"Yeah! The other day I went over there, and he answers the door with his dick all hangin out!"

Jordie looked at Keone, the boy's face twisted in frustration, waiting.

"THEN, he wants me to look at this bitch flick he got. He always getting them films. Ugly ass bitches with big ol tiddies and shit."

"You don't like that?"

"Not them ugly ass women HE be having! That's all La Vel do, look at bitch flicks, fuck and do drugs."

Pausing, he watched a Corvette pass. "Know what else he did?"


"Like I say, he always walking 'round with his dick hangin out and shit. So he puts on this bitch flick, and starts talking 'bout how it's makin him all hot, and shit."

Keone grew quiet, the noise of the car sailing along the highway the only sound for a few minutes. Finally he continued,

"Talking 'bout he all hot and shit, and then he pulls out his stanky dick and shows it to me, talking 'bout it's getting hard 'cause he watching them ugly ass bitches."

"Don’t let it fade you, kid. He just tryin to see if he can rattle yo cage, that's all. "

"Yeah, but then he…" Keone's face became hard as stone, sullen. Riding along, his eyes filled with the slightest hint of tears. Jordie became very concerned at that point.


Keone said nothing.

"Tell me what he did, Keone."

"He… He grabbed his faunky dick and points it at me and said 'You like that, don't you?' "

"Aw shit, Keone, why'd he do that?"

"I don't know! He got all scared when I called him on it, though. Talking 'bout he was just messin around after that. He probably a faggot. Oh, sorry man."

"It’s ok."

Jordie was so distracted by what Keone was saying, cars were passing him, now.

"What were you guys doing before he did that?"

"Just looking at the film, man. Then he starts talking 'bout how hot he is, and shit, and takes his dick out. I looked at it a couple of times, and I guess he musta thought I was that way."

The boy's account of his incident with La Vel worried Jordie. Teenage boys in the inner city could become quite violent if they perceived you as 'funny'.

"What you gon' do?"

"I'ma kick his ass!"

"Yeah, that's just the stupid in you talking. You know La Vel hooked up with 89th Street , man. Them fools is crazy."

"I cain't just let him get away with it, though."

"I don't know why you hang out with them fools anyway. Ain't it some other guys your age you can run with?"

"Yeah, Rashawn, and Russell and them."

"Why don't you leave La Vel alone then?"

"But he got all that juice, man."

"Yeah, I know. But you make your own juice, Keone. You know, like you working now. And you get some good friends, and get into some good things. That's what I had to do. I had La Vel's when I was your age, too. I told you 'bout Greg, remember?"


"I just kept fools like Greg on a long leash, that's all. You know, speak to them when you have to, but gone 'bout yo business. Make your own juice, Keone."

"Guess so. I’m tired of them niggas always stressin me 'bout pussy anyway."

"Stressin you? How?"

"They be giving me a hard time and asking how come I ain't fuckin all the time like they do."

"Yeah, but it ain't like you never be boning, right."

"Yeah, when I feel like it."

"Then don't stress it. Different strokes for different folks."

"Yeah, but they won't leave me alone."

"What they want you to do?"

"I guess they want me to be running up in girls all the time like they do."

"Yeah, and how you know they ain't lying 'bout how much they getting laid?"

" 'Cause, I be being there when they doin it."

"You kiddin!"

"Well, I be in the park."

"The park? Y'all getting yo swerve on in the park?"

"Yeah. Why you trippin?"

" 'Cause that's just some bold shit."

"Yeah well, most the time we go up to the park, there's these street ho's up there and…."


"Not real ho's Jordie, dang, you sho is trippin. They girls 'bout our age, man."


"Yeah, but like I was saying, they be up there all the time and my niggas be taking 'em behind the bathrooms and slammin 'em."

"Oh, y'all ain't jumpin them right out in the open, huh?"

"No!… Oh! You thought we was fuckin right out on the basketball court or sumpin?"

"Yeah, that's how come I was buggin, man."

"No, we be takin 'em back behind the bathrooms. Cain't nobody see you back there."


"But they be doin it all the time, man. Hell, one of them be back there fuckin every night!"

"But you don't?"

"No. Ain't nobody need that much pussy!"

"Yeah, then how much do you do it, then?"

"I dunno. Maybe… I dunno."

Needling the flustered boy, Jordie inquired,

"When was the last time you got you some pussy, nigga?"

Irritated, Keone stumbled.

"I dunno… Let me see… Guess it was, like, 'bout a month or two ago. I don't remember!" He snapped.

"It's alright, shorty. I ain't one of your horny friends."

"Yeah. I just get tired of it, man."

"Your friends can't let you be you, then you don't need to worry yourself over friends like that."

"Yeah, that's right, man. I'ma quit stressin over them fools. They all just a bunch of horny dogs, anyway, 'cept fo Rashawn."

"Yeah, why you say that?"

" 'Cause. Rashawn, he cool, man. He don't be trying to prove shit to them knuckleheads all the time."

"Maybe you should take a clue from Rashawn, then."

"Yeah… I think you right. Thanks Jordie."

"No problem."





Keone was crushed. Watching the boy gathering his CD's, it wasn't until he'd gotten to the door before he jumped up. Placing his hand on the boy's shoulder he said,                                                                                                                     

"Yo, I'm sorry, B. You don't have to leave." Turning to face him Rashawn gazed into his clear brown eyes. Keone's dick stirring, Rashawn was more radiant now than when he'd seen him naked in the locker room. Such beautiful skin, and immaculately styled hair.

The boys stood, Rashawn with his back to the door and Keone just inches from his face, looking. Keone's dick moved of it's own volition, now, raising higher and higher in his boxers. Gazing at the boy's soft, crimson red lips, Keone felt a rush of feelings wash over him that was insurmountable. Moving closer, he observed that Rashawn didn't react, his eyes locked on Keone's. Instinct taking over, Keone felt himself moving closer and closer until their lips met. Like blooming roses in the spring, their lips parted, and for the first time in his life, Keone was kissing another boy.

Pressing against the boy, his dick fully erect now, Keone dashed his tongue into Rashawn's mouth, lapping at the boy's tongue. Still holding a handful of CD's, Rashawn stood motionless, his mind reeling, his own dick hardening. This can't be happening! he thought, astonished. Allowing the boy to push him against the door, he felt his dick, pressing against his groin. Keone's tongue was fervidly exploring his mouth, strong, unwanted, sensations coursing through his body. Keone started caressing the boy's body, his hands traveling down his sides, and over his chest. When he felt them tugging at his pants, feverishly trying to open them, he cried out, his words muffled by the boy's probing tongue.

His protests startled Keone, forcing him to recognize the severity of his actions. He was literally ramming his tongue down a guy's throat and trying to get into his pants! Breaking away he stuttered,

"I'm sorry, Rashawn! I don’t know what I was thinkin'…"

Watching the boy back pedal, Rashawn grabbed his hand.

"It's alright, Keone. I've been wantin' to do that, too. It's just, I didn't think you was that way."

"You been wantin' to kiss me!"

Shocked, Keone stared at the boy.

"I didn't think you was that way," he said, rushing back to embrace the boy. Kissing him again, he ripped at the boy's pants.

Grabbing his hands, Rashawn broke the kiss again.

"What?" Keone said, his hand on the boy's groin.

"Dang, man! Shit gets all fucked up some times, " Rashawn blathered, his eyes rolling upward.

What was he talking about?

"I cain't Keone, I got a lover, now."

Pulling him to the couch, Rashawn looked into his eyes, saddened.

"When I saw you at the pool that day, I wanted you so bad it hurt," he explained. "I used to look at you every day, dog, but I figured that was just a crazy dream. When you got sent to jail, I thought that was it. I'd never get a chance at you, then. When I turned 17, I went to this club with a friend and I met this guy. He's 20 and he crazy 'bout me, man. We been together for 'bout a month now. He keep tryin' to get me to move in with him, but I don't know." Keone felt like he'd been pushed out a 10th story window.

Rashawn like guys?

Rashawn got a lover!

How was this possible? Rashawn didn't seem like no fag.

"I just wish I'd known," he was saying, "We could've been PHAT together, B," he said, kissing the boy on his lips.

Holding him, Keone sought to make the kiss last. Rashawn permitted another long, passionate kiss, but eventually broke it off.

"You keep kissin' me like that, and I'm gon' get in big trouble," Rashawn said, standing.

Where he going? Keone's tormented brain screamed.

"I gotta go, B. We too dangerous fo' each other. I'll leave these CD's, check 'em out when you can. Later." Glued to the couch, Keone watched as the boy left, his bubble butt the last thing he noticed leaving out the door.






"Jordie?" he started.


"Can we talk?"

"Sure," Jordie said, turning his engine off.

"But not here, man."

"Where then?"

"I don't care, just drive, a'ight?"

"A'ight," Jordie said, starting the car.


Hanging out the window, Keone strained into the darkness, his eyes searching the secluded beach. Jordie had made the suggestion that they come here, fond memories of times he'd spent there with his father his incentive. Circling to the back of the car, they removed the blankets and towels placed there after a brief stop at Jordie's apartment. The paraphernalia in hand, they made the trek from the parking lot out into the darkness of the empty beach.

"What to do with this?" Keone asked, holding up the bags of fast food they'd picked up.

"Let me get the blanket laid out," Jordie instructed, "And we can sit down and have us a li'l picnic, B."

Spreading the blanket, they sat, ripping open the bags of fried chicken meals, sticking straws into the invitingly cold drinks. They'd road around the city for the past hour, Keone insisting they keep going nowhere in particular as he talked. Jordie was so happy Keone felt like talking, he didn't even worry about the time spent wandering the city. It wasn't until they'd stopped to get the chicken that Jordie offered the idea of going to his private spot.

Munching on his fries, Keone surveyed the beach, an oddity to him. He could only remember two times visiting any beach, neither of them at night.

"How you find this beach?" he inquired.

"My Pops and me used to come up here all the time," Jordie said, taking a sip from his soda. "First time we came up here, we was hangin' out one day and he say's 'Lets go watch the sun set', just like that. We drove all the way up here, picked up some burgers at this stand down the street and sat out here on the beach, watching the sun go down. We didn't say shit, man. Just sat here, watching a big orange sun float down the sky." Smiling, Jordie looked out over the water.

"That sounds like that was cool," Keone remarked, then added, "Yo' father sound real cool, too."

"Yeah, we did everything together. Played video games, watched football, listened to music, even went to see the Dodgers play every once in a while. He the one showed me how to work with computers."

"A'ight. So, y'all still do all the stuff?"

"My Dad's dead," Jordie quipped.

"Aw shit, sorry to here that, B. My Dad's dead, too."

"Oh yeah? How'd he die?"

"Heart attack," Keone stated, unemotional.

"How old was you when he died?"

"I was 'bout nine or ten."

"Yeah? I was 'bout 15 when mine died."

"Bet you really miss 'em, huh?"

"Hell yeah, man. My Pops died, I thought I was gon' die too, B. That's why I keep comin' up to this beach. It's like I can still feel him when I'm up here."


Placing his soda down, Jordie asked,

"What 'bout you, Keone? You miss yo' Pops?"

Keone swallowed, his answer slow coming. "Yeah… but… he wasn't cool like yo' Dad. He was mean, man. Used to beat the shit outta my Moms, and me." Dropping his head, his eating slowed.

"He drank or somethin'?" Jordie asked.

"Nigga stayed drunk. Worst was the weekends. He'd go out on Friday's and drink the whole weekend. Saturday nights, he'd come home drunk and start slapping my Moms around. I'd try to get 'em to stop, sometimes, but then he'd start beatin' the shit outta me. Funny thing is, come Monday, that son'a bitch would go to work and handled his shit like a mutha fuck. Kept us in a nice house, with a nice car and clothes and shit." Looking out at the waves, his voice low, he added, "But I still miss 'em."

"I hear you," Jordie said, gazing out at the water, too.

"Wanna go walk along the water, shorty?" he offered


Removing their shoes and socks, the boy's walked toward the water, the warm sand squishing between their toes.

Stepping into the cool water, Jordie petitioned,

"So how you doin', shorty?"

Taking a few steps before he answered, Keone responded, "Guess I'm doin' ok." The wet sand felt funny beneath his feet, the footprints they left in the sand amusing him. He knew what Jordie was getting at, but couldn't exactly find the words. They walked along in silence, waves of water rushing between their legs.

Stopping, Keone turned to Jordie, a possible way to air his concerns coming to mind.

"You said you had a cousin that was gay, right?" Keone started.

"Yeah, that's right."

"How you deal with that, man?"

"What you mean, deal with that?"

"I mean, don't that bother you?"

"Nope. He ain't no different than any other my relatives or friends to me," Jordie said, kicking a burst of water up with his foot. Inputting, Keone walked a little further.

"Man, I would be freaked out if I knew one of my cousins, or homies was gay," he offered.

"You need to loosen up, kid. What's so bad 'bout somebody bein' gay?"

"Man that shit is whacked! Niggas in the hood ever find out you likin' dudes, they bust yo' ass up!"

"Eddie stay in the hood," Jordie posited. "Niggas don't give a shit 'bout him, either."

Turning to face the youth, Keone exclaimed, "You kiddin?"

"I wouldn't shit you man. Eddie stay dead in the hood, B. See, what you ain't knowin', shorty, it's mo' niggas in the hood fuck around than they let on."

"Straight up, hard niggas?"

"'Sright. Eddie ain't no swish. Lot of yo' peeps probably gettin' a little freaky on the side, Keone. They just ain't actin' like you think they're gon' act." Mesmerized, Keone stared, his mouth gapped open.

"Jordie, you mean to tell me dudes like Russell, and Eric and Zoon them, doin' shit with each other?" Keone objected.

"No doubt."

"Man, you trippin'."

"Believe what you wanna, but I'm tryin' to tell you, some the most hardest actin' niggas 'round is just perpetrating, man." Remembering his startling experience with Rashawn, Keone offered no further protests. If what had happened with he and Rashawn was any indication, Jordie was probably telling the truth.

"How you know if you gay?" he heard himself inquiring, kicking himself simultaneously for picking at the issue again.

"It ain't all that simple, kid."

"How come?"

Turning to face him, Jordie's reply lodged in his throat, trapped by the earnest look on Keone's face. He knew the boy respected his opinion highly, and didn't want to mislead him.

"I don't think being gay is 'bout whether you do somethin' with a dude or not, Keone. If that was the case, just 'bout every nigga on the face of the earth would be gay."

"Everybody don't fuck 'round with dudes, man."

"I didn't say everybody did. I'm just sayin', most everybody has done somethin' with a dude one time or 'nother, whether they admit it or not."

"So, a nigga can do somethin' with anotha nigga, and he still ain't gay?" Keone petitioned.

"Not necessarily."

"Then, what make 'em gay?"

"I ain't sure, Keone. I guess if a nigga is just messin' 'round with anotha nigga, he might just be doin' it 'cause he hot, like you said you did. But if he really gay, then he prefer doin' it with a dude," Jordie instructed.

"So, if I sucked a dude's dick, that don't mean I'm gay?"


"But what if you do somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"Like…" hesitant again, Keone stopped. Empathetic, Jordie watched the boy struggle with himself.

Keone tried again.

"Like, what if…" The words failing him, he paused, picking up a pebble and hurling it in the sand in his frustration. Patiently, Jordie waited, mindful that he was going to have let Keone do this himself.

"What if you kiss a dude?" Keone blurted, holding his breath until Jordie responded.

Exhaling a deep breath, Jordie looked at him, unsure how to proceed. Keone busied himself with the edge of the blanket, fiddling with it.

"What was it like for you?" Jordie finally asked. Releasing the blanket, Keone rested his head on his knees, searching for an answer. Should he be honest and tell him what it really was like for him, or just drop it all together? The weight of the subject unavoidable, Keone longed for release.

"I liked it," he whispered, a thousand pounds seeming to lift off of him. Lightened, he continued, "It was me and Rashawn. He was over my house, and we was talkin', next thing I know, we lockin' lips." Fiddling with the blanket again, Keone slowly lifted his head to look at Jordie, his face inquisitive.

"What you want me to do, Keone, tell you it's alright for you to like guys?"

"No," Keone sulked. "That ain't what that mean, anyway. That just happened."

Tired of his excuses, Jordie plainly said, "When you ready to quit beatin' up on yo'self, then maybe we can really talk."

"Man, you ain't gettin' it!" Keone hissed. "I kissed a nigga, and I liked it! That's fucked up! I ain't tryin' to be like this, man, it just keep happenin'. If I had my choice, I'd never get a hard-on lookin' at a niggas ass, that shit is sick! Why I got to be like this? Why I cain't get a hard-on when I look at a bitch? Know what happened to me? I tried to go straight, when I came outta Forester, man. Wouldn't even jack-off! I even went to the park and tried fuckin' one of them ho's up there. But my shit wouldn't get up! And I was gettin' all turned off by her pussy! Only reason why I busted a nut was 'cause I started thinkin' 'bout suckin' that nigga's dick at Forester. What's wrong with me? I don't want to be like this!"

Tears stinging his eyes, Keone watched as Jordie moved toward him. Wrapping his arm about the boy's shoulder, Jordie whispered, "It's alright, shorty. You just being too hard on yo'self." Resting against him, Keone tried to fight the tears, hating how weak he appeared. Finding Jordie's embrace undeniably comforting however, he released, bitter tears trickling down his stolid face. Embarrassed by his childish display of emotions, he wiped his face moving away from his friend.

Watching the recurring rush of the waves, the pair was silent, each deep in thought.

"Jordie, you talkin' 'bout niggas bumpin' dicks so, you ever did that?"


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