BUT EVERYTHING HAS ITS own fucking stink. Like trying to eat that breakfast with her smell. It was the same as Marys, and all the others, but different. All her own. I dont know, maybe she didnt know. You dont always know your own smell. You know it, but you dont know it the same way as somebody else. I dont know. I guess it was different to me. Maybe she didnt smell it. Maybe she was used to it. But she always knew where I was by the smell. As soon as I walked into the fucking house she knew if I was in the poolroom, the diner or who knows where else. She/d sniff me like a fucking dog. Like some kind of fucking bloodhound or something. She/d look at me and her goddamn nose would twitch like a sonofabitch and ask me where I was and then tell me. Youve been here, youve been there. Twitch, twitch, twitch. Just like a fucking dog. Shouldve told her why I couldnt eat that fucking breakfast. Shouldve twitched my nose and told her. All their own stink, and all the same.

Just like Mary, only different. Her stink didnt bother me. Wonder why she didnt sniff my hand when I came home from the movies. Maybe they think its their own smell. Maybe it was the soap in the movie bathroom. Pretty hard to smell cunt juice after washing your hands with that soap. Krist, my hand sure did smell funny after washing with that soap. Shit, I dont know what it smelled like, but it sure was weird. Guess they were the only times I washed my hands in the movies. Never did like that soap. But my hands sure did get washed on Saturday afternoon. I guess going to the movies with Mary was the closest thing I ever had to a date when I was a kid.

He would meet her on the corner and they went to the same theater each Saturday afternoon. It didnt make any difference what might be playing, he never bothered to find out or try to determine whether or not he would enjoy the movies. That had nothing to do with his being there. The theater was wide and the front section had two wings on the side where they wouldnt be noticed. All morning he got more fidgety, and his gut got tighter and tighter, as he anticipated going to the movies. He always wore the same blue, corduroy pants. They were his lucky pants. The zipper seemed to be a little longer in them and could be opened with comfort while he was sitting. The only trouble with them was that if any scum got on them you could see it a mile away so he had to inspect them carefully in the bathroom before he left the movie and wash any spots before they turned to a stiff white. But it was worth the trouble. He always scored when he wore his blue corduroy pants.

By 11/30 he had finished his lunch and had gotten a quarter from his mother for the movie. She always asked him what he was going to see and when he told her he didnt know she always said, well, whatever it is, enjoy it. She kissed him and told him to have a good time and be home in time for dinner. He walked as rapidly as possible up the streets to the theater, his excitement knotting his gut and spreading throughout his body until the tip of his joint squirmed like a dozen ants were crawling around inside it. He started slowing down as he approached the theater just in case Mary might be there waiting, but she never was. She always got there about 10 minutes after he did, wearing her long, pink jacket. He looked at the stills while he waited, vaguely wondering what the movies might be about, then leaned against the corner of the building until Mary got there. When she did they got on line with the rest of the kids. When they got inside they walked down the far right side to their seats and got Marys jacket adjusted on their laps then waited for the lights to go out.

The screen lit up, the music blared and the theater was darkened and they adjusted themselves in their seats. He put his hands under the jacket, down her thighs to the end of her skirt, then worked the skirt up to her hips, their eyes watching the images on the bright screen, then tugged one side of her skirt under the cheek of her ass as she lifted it slightly, then the other, back and forth slowly, inch by inch, always staring at the screen, their heads immobile, until her skirt was over her hips, Mary keeping her hands on top of her jacket, continually adjusting it so she was always covered. When he was sure her skirt was out of the way he paused for a moment then hooked his thumbs inside the top of her pants and started working them down, first one side then the other, their eyes always looking to the left at the screen, feeling the soft, warm flesh of her ass against his fingers, Mary lifting one cheek just barely enough to allow him to slide them under, and then the other until they were down to her knees. They kept the upper part of their bodies almost rigid as he rubbed the inside of her thigh with his hand for a moment then pushed against the inner part of her other thigh with his finger tips, and she spread her legs so he could get his hand between them. He felt the heat of her crotch on his hand and her hairs on his fingers as he wiggled his middle finger between the lips of her cunt, pushing them aside and spinning his finger between them until he felt the warm, moist lips around the tip of his finger and then, with the images still appearing before his eyes and the sounds still tapping at his ears, he continued to rotate his finger as he slid it up and down until he found her hole and prodded his finger in as far as it could go as Mary kept her arms on her jacket so it wouldnt slide from her lap and kept her legs spread as far apart as her pants would let her. He stopped moving his finger for a moment and just let it rest in her tight hole. It was warm and moist and so was her entire crotch and his hand. He shoved it in deeper until he felt the hairs bristle against the back of his hand and the moistness of her snatch around his knuckle. He held the edge of her jacket with his other hand and told her to take it out. Moving only her hand and part of her arm she reached under the jacket and searched briefly until she found the top of his zipper. She opened it as he stretched his legs to help her, his finger still buried in her twat, their eyes still staring at the screen, then slid her hand into his open fly and hunted for the opening in his shorts with her finger tips. She felt his long hairs wrap themselves around her fingers then moved down until she felt the base of his cock, then tightened her hand around it and tugged it through the opening. They remained motionless for a moment, he with his finger buried in her cunt, she with her hand squeezing his cock, the both of them holding on to her jacket and staring at the screen.

Then he started shoving his finger deeper and deeper into her hole with short, quick prods, feeling it get warmer and wetter, feeling her juices warm against his knuckle and the back of his hand rubbing against her patch of hair, feeling his hand, and the inside of her thighs getting warmer and wetter, his hand moving easier and faster as her snatch and crotch became lubricated with her juices and sweat, his excitement growing and growing with each jab of his finger into her hole and the tightening of her hand around his prick as she responded to each prod of his finger going deeper into her belly, and his knuckle rubbing against her lips as they unfolded and swelled, and his hand slid along her sweated thighs and she didnt have to force her legs apart but simply let the movement of his hand create the necessary room, and she continued to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze the stiffened prick in her hand and she could feel the juice and sweat tickle her crotch as they were mixed and spread through her bush by his hand and they kept their eyes and heads directed toward the screen as they squirmed slightly in their seats, squeezing their assholes tighter and tighter as their excitement increased.

He stopped moving his hand when it got tired and started to cramp slightly, but continued to wriggle his finger inside her hole and told her to play around. She milked his joint a few times then spread the fluid around the tip of his joint with her thumb. He stopped wiggling his finger and just enjoyed the feeling of her thumb caressing the tip of his cock, feeling the slightly sticky film between the flesh. He told her to go down and she moved her head slightly to look around and he told her it was all right, no one was looking, and she moved her jacket then bent over and put her mouth around his prick and started sucking on it as if it were a straw. He reached around her with his other hand and started squeezing her tit as she sucked on his joint. Her mouth was warm and wet around his joint just like her cunt around his finger. It was different, but the same. They were both part of the same thing. He stared at the screen as he felt her tit in his hand, felt her mouth sucking his prick, felt his finger up her hole and his hand clamped between her legs, and wondered if she liked to have his prick in her mouth and what it was like and how it felt and he wanted to shoot his load in her mouth, but not now, maybe later at the end of the show and even if she couldnt keep it all in her mouth that was all right because most of it would probably go on her jacket and if he got some on his pants he could always wash it off in the bathroom before it dried stiff.

He suddenly felt the cool air around his joint as she raised her head, but it was only for a second then her jacket was covering him and she slid her hand up his cock to the tip and squeezed it and rubbed it with her fingers. He moved his arm as she sat back in her seat, and held the edge of the jacket with his hand. She spread her legs and adjusted herself in her seat and when she was settled he started jabbing his finger in her hole faster and faster, his finger and knuckle going deeper and deeper and she leaned back in her seat and held tightly to his prick as finger and knuckles moved faster and faster, her lips getting larger and unfolding further and he lowered his head slightly to listen to the clicking, squishing sound as his hand pumped rapidly against her wet crotch and juiced cunt. When he stopped she continued to cling to his prick and remained stiffened in her seat. Something happening on the screen caught his attention so he watched for a few moments, letting his hand rest between her legs. He could feel the tenseness in her body, but he thought she was just stretching, or something, so he continued to watch the action on the screen until he became aware that the hand around his prick wasnt moving.

Jerk off. She adjusted her hand slightly and started jerking him off, slowly, with short, uneven strokes. He moved his hand so his finger went deeper, then pushed and twisted until it was in as far as it could go and his knuckles were buried in the swollen lips of her cunt, and continued to just push as her thighs tightened on his hand and her hand moved more rapidly in longer strokes, and the faster and longer the strokes the more he pushed and twisted, the tighter he squeezed his asshole, and the tighter she squeezed her legs until he couldnt move his hand and she stopped jerking him off and milked his prick a few times, slowly, then spread the thin, slightly sticky film around the head of his prick with her thumb. Around and around her thumb went, the film getting thinner and thinner until he eventually felt the skin of her thumb on the head of his cock and it started to twitch inside, and she continued rubbing and he could feel it in his balls and down his legs. When both thumb and cock were dry she stopped rubbing and kept her hand loosely around his prick and he rested his finger in her cunt.

He watched the movie for a few minutes as she squirmed slightly in her seat, pushing lightly against his hand and squeezing his joint. He felt her movements and waved his finger around a bit in her snatch until he became annoyed with the action on the screen then jabbed his hand into her cunt faster and faster as she tugged harder on his prick and continued even when he stopped. She was rigid again and was pumping her thighs together and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, puzzled, then inwardly shrugged his shoulders and told her to go down. She sucked as hard as she could and he could feel the pressure of her thighs on his hand and the tingle of her teeth against the head of his cock. His groin and gut ached with excitement and his mind pleaded for more, but more of what? His joint was in her mouth and his finger was up her cunt yet there was a confusion of more and what and all he could do was sit as quietly as possible feeling the tingle of her teeth and pressure of her thighs, vaguely aware of movement on the screen and the sound of voices and music, as she sucked as hard as she could.

When her jaws forced her to stop and she sat up and spread her legs he moved his hand in her sodden crotch, as they both stared at the screen, bewildered by the screaming urgency for more, more of some damn thing, but what? His hand stopped moving and he watched whatever it was that was happening on the screen. His hand was a little stiff and tired, but he left it where it was. There was no sense in taking it out, hed only have to put his finger back in again, so why bother taking it out. It felt good where it was. It would smell when he took it out, but he could always wash it. And it was nice and warm and wet in there. And on the outside too. It was good to think of his hand being there. To think of her pants being down around her knees and her legs spread apart and his finger in her pussy. To think of his finger in her bush and his prick in her mouth. He moved his finger in a circle and shrugged off the more and what and told her to jerk off, then play around, then go down and in between she squeezed and tugged and he jabbed and thrust and they sat as still as possible and stared at the screen as she jerked off, played around, went down and he kept his hand and finger moving as fast and long as possible vaguely aware of her stiffening from time to time and tugging a little harder on his joint, but he ignored it and kept his hand and finger moving and kept her jerking off, playing around and going down until the second show started and he told her to jerk off and she jerked him off harder and faster until he said he was ready to shoot and took his hand from her snatch and she cupped her hands between his legs and he pulled back her jacket and grabbed his joint and yanked it off until he shot his load into her cupped hands, his body twitching as he strained to keep the stream directed properly, then milked the final drops and rubbed them off on the sides of her hands.

When he finished he let the head of his joint rub against her jacket, then shoved it in his pants and closed his fly as he watched her open her hands and let the scum drip to the floor then told her to rub her hands together and watched as she rubbed his scum into her hands sensing how it felt and aware of the smell coming from his finger. When he told her O.K. she stopped rubbing and wiped her hands off on the seat in front of her. After she got her pants back on they got up and went to the bathrooms. He went directly into a stall, locked the door, then inspected his pants carefully, opening his pants and belt to be certain there were no telltale spots anywhere, either in or out. When he finished he flushed the toilet then washed his hands. He washed them many times, filling his hands with soap each time, sniffing his finger between washings. When he was satisfied that all he could smell was soap he washed them once more then left the bathroom. She was waiting for him at an exit and followed beside him as he left the theater.

They strolled down the street and he asked her if she was going to babysit tonight and what time and told her to look out the window when the people had left, that he would be waiting downstairs in the courtyard. He left her in front of her house and went home. He quickly and vaguely answered his mother when she asked him how he liked the movies, and went to his room.

He sat on the edge of his bed for a while just sort of wondering. It seemed like he always felt like this when he got home from the movies. Like there was something missing or something. He never could quite figure it out. Just some little something missing, or just not right. It puzzled him, but thinking about it got him nowhere and anyway he couldnt wonder about it too long because of the itchy feeling in his crotch.

He went to the bathroom, closed the door quietly, let his pants and underwear drop to his ankles, then sat on the commode and toyed with his joint, his eyes closed tightly trying to create a new image in his mind, one that would give meaning to the more and what he was feeling, but always ending up with the same one, the only one that seemed to satisfy his needs. It consisted almost completely of a single frame from a story in a comic book he had read a few years before. He couldnt remember anything about the book, or the story, except the one frame where an ancient and evil looking oriental had a white woman chained to a pillar in a large hall. He was thin and bony with a pointed chin and goatee, a large sharp nose, long droopy mustaches and red evil eyes. The woman was young, very white and her arms were stretched above her and chains were wrapped around her wrists and around the pillar. Her feet were bare and the tips of her toes barely touched the floor, her evening gown was ripped and her left tit was hanging out. And she was terrified. And the evil oriental stared at her and you knew he was going to do something horrible and whatever that something horrible was satisfied the more and what and made his balls tighten with excitement and he beat his meat faster with the sharp image in his mind of the young white and beautiful woman chained to the pillar and the evil red eyes staring at her and the tit hanging out of the torn gown and he focused on that evil face, the horror on her face and the tit hanging from the chained body and he reached over and grabbed a handful of toilet paper and held it in his left hand as his right hand moved faster and faster and a feeling of satisfaction drifted through him as he could sense what was going to be done to the young white woman as she was chained to the pillar with her left tit hanging in the yellow face with the red evil eyes and he felt the warmth of her terror in his hand as his body jerked with the forced final strokes and he milked and wiped the drops on the paper and stared briefly at the heavy, yellowish white fluid in his hand. He milked his joint one last time, wiped the tip on the paper, then dropped it in the bowl and flushed it.

He went back to his room and sat in his chair, waiting for his mother to call him for dinner. He felt slightly more relaxed, yet still puzzled, discontented. It had been a good day so far, like many Saturdays. Saturdays that were looked forward to from Sunday morning on, yet there was always something missing or not quite right. At least nothing got screwed up today like it sometimes did. At least not yet. Sometimes she couldnt go to the movies, or didnt baby-sit for some damn reason, but so far everything went the way it should. And tonight hed go up the block after dinner and hang around with the fellows for a while, talking or doing something, then make some sort of excuse to get away without them knowing where he was going and he would see Mary again. He just hoped nothing would happen to stop those people from going out. It wouldnt be so bad if he knew ahead of time so he could meet Mary in the park, but he didnt want her coming around the corner and telling him that she wasnt going to baby-sit. The stupid cunt did that one night and he almost didnt get away from his friends without them knowing where he was going. Shit, that was a ballbreaker. Almost screwed up his whole week. But it should be all right tonight. They were going to some sort of a special party or something. The park was all right, but in the house was the best. He could see. He liked to sit on the couch with her and have her lift her skirt and then take her pants off. He always got a look at her bush and when he held his head right he could see his finger going into her box and he could watch her when she played with his prick and put it in her mouth, especially when he stood up and she knelt in front of him. And he could put his hand in her blouse and squeeze her tit and feel the nipple and even see it sometimes and when he shot in her hands he could see it and watch her wash her hands with his scum and hear it squish between the palms of her hands and then they would sit on the couch and start all over again. All week he planned and dreamed of a good Saturday. From class to class, day to day, he dreamed and planned….

But sunday morning always followed with that oppressive weight on his chest, that irritating gnawing that he tried to relieve by taking deeper and deeper breaths that always seemed to be just about to give him relief, yet never did. And everything always seemed to be so goddamn gray and heavy and his mother always asked him if he wanted to go to church with her and he always told her no. Every fucking week it was the same shit. Do you want to go to church. He felt like telling her to take her stinking church and jam it up her ass, but he gave the same answer to the same question. No, not today, and he would leave the house and wander up the block to meet his friends and screw the day away and he would go to school monday and tuesday and wednesday and thursday and friday and then would come saturday and if things went as they should he would go to the movies with Mary and they would baby-sit at night. But Sunday always followed.

Yeah.

Yeah, that Fu Man Chu really knew where it was at. He sat on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped between his knees. I wonder if her name was Mary? Seems like it was. Yeah, Mary, Schmary, whats the difference. Whats in a name. By any name she smells the same. Anyway, she was better than nothing. He chuckled. He really knew where it was at that insidious son of a bitch, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped between his knees, looking, just looking….

Shit. He stood up and stepped to the door. Fuck it. Fuck all that shit, thrusting his face at the small window, a dim reflection thrusting itself at him. He stared at the face, then through it at the wall and the signs over the baskets, yeah, yeah, yeah, blue, green, yellow, purple and shit brindle. He turned from the window and looked into the mirror over the wash basin, at the face and the wall behind him, staring for many minutes at the bloodshot eyes.

He leaned closer and stared at the goddamn pimple on his cheek. It seemed to be twice as fucking big as it was the last time he looked at it. It was red and angry and seemed to be spreading like some kind of fucking rot. He touched it with his finger tip and fucking pain shot through him as if someone had jabbed him with a hot wire. His body snapped rigidly and his eyes screamed as his body paralyzed itself to keep his hands from clawing the fucking thing from his cheek. His body shivered with rage as his screaming eyes glared at themselves and his hands inches from the sonofabitching cheek and that motherfucking pimple that was driving him out of his fucking mind, wanting to rip and tear the flesh from the side of his face and destroy the rotten cocksucker and the poison that was driving him out of his mind.

Suddenly his hands were at his side and his body jerked around and he leaned against the wall, rigid. Those fucking bastards. Those motherfucking bastards. I wish to krist I had those pricks here now. I/d fucking killem. I swear to krist I/d killem. I/d tear the eyes out of their heads. Those miserable bastards. Those miserable cocksucking bastards. He stormed thru his cell, his voice roaring in his head, YOU ROTTEN SLIMY PRICKS. YOU NO GOOD MOTHER FUCKING      BASTARDS       strangling air with each hand, snapping his body around as he slashed his way through his cell, I/LL KILL YOU I/LL KILL YOU, YOU ROTTENSONSABITCHES. I/LL KILLYA KILLYA KILLYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA his fists grinding into the corner over the commode, pounding his head against his hands, the bones in his chest being shoved apart by a growing lump that was slowly strangling him, kill you, kill you, slowly staggering down the wall, kill you, kill you, kill you, sitting on the commode, face buried in hands, kill you

rotten son of a bitch. Thats all, just a rotten son of a bitch. Do you know that god? Youre no good. No fuck      ing good. A no good       fuck      ing      son      of      a      bitch. Do you hear me god? DO YOU HEAR ME YOU LOUSY BASTARD? YOURE NO FUCKING GOOD. YOURE A ROTTEN. LOUSY SON OF A BITCH AND I FUCK YOU WHERE YOU EAT, AND YOUR MOTHER TOO, turning to the barred window and the hint of light coming through the milky glass, youre no fucking good, lowering his head and staring at the gray concrete floor. His feet were on the floor and his arms were on his thighs and his head angled forward from his neck and he looked at the gray concrete floor. There were spots and cracks and blemishes and areas where the concrete showed through the paint and that was just a slightly different shade of gray. How many shades of gray were there? The fucking cell seemed to have every shade of gray in the whole fucking world. Gray fucking walls, gray fucking ceiling with cracks going down the walls and into the gray fucking floor. Gray fucking bars. Jesus krist, youd think theyd run out of cracks and gray

maybe it was the North Carolina. Yeah, I think that was the name of it. Put it together with that stinking glue. Krist, did that glue stink. Worse than rotten eggs and old farts. Painted the whole damn thing battleship gray. Should have painted it different colors. Probably would have looked good with some white and blue or something. Maybe even camouflage colors. Shit, I dont know. Dont even know if camouflage was around then. Fuck it. So what. Gray was good enough. And then to xmas services. Always so fucking cold in the church on xmas. Couldnt have the services at the regular time so the fucking joint could heat up. Had to have them early in the morning when it was cold enough to put icicles on a whores ass. Or freeze a whores tit, or whatever it is. Who gives a shit. At least on xmas we didnt have to sing jesus loves me. Every week in that fucking sunday school, jesus loves me this I know, and the rest of that horseshit. Loves my fucking ass. Jesus loves me this I know. Sure did fuck people up with that chemistry set i got one xmas. Krist, those stink bombs were ugly. Smelled worse than a skunks ass. Sure did fuck up the old Ridgeway movie house. Especially when I put them by the big fans.