Then the light swung down, so that for a moment, with it in my eyes, I couldn’t see.

On my back, I lifted my legs up in the air, reached between them, opened up Chico’s tear, and dug into my asshole with my fingers. There was still a lot of shit on my other hand, so I put it in my mouth and started to eat.

“Jesus,” the policeman said. “Is the little fucker crazy?”

Rufus’s low, rumbling chuckle grew and fell. “That boy just need his pussy pumped a little more, Whitey. You see how he tryin’ to do himself like that?”

I stuck my tongue out between my fingers. I rocked harder and tried to get my hand up far enough to reach that spot the nigger’s cock had made feel so good.

The light stayed on me.

The policeman said: “He’s fuckin’ crazy …!”

“But he got a sweet ass,” Rufus said.

“Shut up, nigger,” the policeman said.

Still sucking, still digging, I raised my head.

Behind the flashlight, I could see the policeman’s other hand hooked to the bullet belt by his thumb. He dropped it to scratch himself between the legs. His hand sort of stayed there a little too long, started to raise again, then went back. He had on a wedding ring, I remember. And his hands were very short and wide.

I had my thumb and three fingers up to the knuckles in my ass. My forearm rubbed my balls. I kept grunting and pushing harder.

Suddenly the light swung away. “Shit—!” the policeman hissed. He just dropped the light in the brush; I heard the batteries clunk together.

His zipper rasped. His shoes crashed up in the leaves. He grabbed me by one leg and squatted. I heard him spit on his hand.

“You don’t need no spit for that pussy,” Rufus said. He squatted beside me.

Still standing, Red put his hands in his pockets, shifted his weight, and cocked his head.

The policeman jerked my hand out, set his cock in my asshole, shoved, and nearly fell on me.

Where the flashlight was laying on the ground, it caught Red’s dirty ankle under the frayed cuff. Red squatted.

My face was almost under the policeman’s shoulder. Rufus squatwalked around to get closer to Red. Red just sort of slid his hand into his fly to play with himself. Rufus had his out already and was shucking, his thumb on the top, fingertips underneath, like he liked the feel of his nails—which were pretty workworn and short; they were dirty, but he didn’t bite them, it looked like. I wondered if his foreskin was long enough to make the same kind of cheese Red’s could. His dick was as long as Hogg’s, I couldn’t help thinking; and thicker.

The policeman’s bullet belt ground my belly, and his gun holder wedged under my hip. He was panting and humping with his forearms on the ground.