Hawk ambled to the edge of the asphalt where the shoulder broke away to dirt and grass and, with a bowlegged slouch, pulled his zipper down, then paused with two fingers in his fly to look at the flaming wreck.

Another gust, and I could feel the heat.

Hawk’s face twisted. Dirty fingers worked his crotch; he shook his head, pulled out his cock—I’d forgotten how far down it the hair grew. Piss splattered the ground.

Suddenly Hawk grimaced, bent his knees a little, and cut his stream. “Hey, cocksucker.” Three drops fell, bright with firelight, one after another from the wrinkled collar. “Come over here.” He squeezed so that the black creases in his red knuckle smoothed. He moved the club of his thumb, with its black-crested nail, over the hairy haft and thick veins worming to the bulge the glans made.

I came over.

“Take it, boy.”

I squatted in front of him—his jeans button had pulled down below his buckle, so there was a little triangle of hairy skin right in front of my eye—and took his cock up to his fist.

“I know how you like it, cocksucker. There’s the rest.”

My mouth bloated with brine. I held onto his hips. He still didn’t let go: he pushed his thumb in my mouth and began to fuck my face with his half hard dick (pissing like a trooper) and his thumb, at the same time. I swallowed as much as I could. I heard the nigger, after awhile, coming over:

“What the fuck you doin’?”

The gasoline and charred meat smell was awfully strong.

And Hawk’s dick was full hard.

“Figured if we was gonna sell ’im,” Hawk said, “I ought to check out the merchandise one last time.” He swayed back, then pushed in, pulling my head forward so my forehead hit his buckle. “Goddamn, that pig made me mad!”

Three cars went by; I saw their headlights on Hawk’s hip.

I think.

It was hard to tell their sound from the sound of the fire.

“Man,” the nigger said. “You had him just about believing you. What got into you, anyway? Runnin’ that bastard into the divider, then off the other side like that! I’m surprised he didn’t just plow into you. He could’ve creamed us.”

“I don’t know,” Hawk said. “Just felt like it. I guess he could’ve rammed us. But he was chickenshit, man. I mean he was just scared and runnin’. Them big guys is always scared and runnin’. Don’t matter who they are. I didn’t know he was gonna turn over like that, though—’specially when that goddamn pig was comin’ by. Boy, that pig pissed me off!”

The nigger laughed again. “Shit, I gotta take a leak.”

Urine was running down my chin, back down my neck and under my collar.