“Not bigger’n mine,” Big Chico said. “Least ways not thicker,” which was true.

Rat got his fly down and pulled out his dick, rubbing it first overhand then underhand.

Pedro called over: “Some big nigger was in here this afternoon humping it in his face.”

Rat grinned at that and rubbed harder. The head of his cock was the color a bruise would have been on his pale skin. He always made me think of a bar of dirty soap. He liked to watch and hear bad talk, mostly. “Must of had a dick-and-a-half, huh?”

“I ain’t never seen this boy get enough dick,” Hawk drawled. Though he lived in Ellenville now, he was from someplace in the South. “Hey, Chico, take mine out and feed this cocksucker.” He unbuttoned three more buttons, just by flexing his knuckles. Then he held his hands aside while Chico reached in.

Hawk had hair growing halfway down it.

“Ain’t thick as mine.” Chico hefted it. “But goddamn …!” He pushed my head toward it. “Sucker looks hungry, don’t he?”

Hawk brought his hands together, as I took it in my mouth. He slid both thumbs in beside his cock and began to chuckle with a sound that never really got above his gut. My tongue worked on nail and knuckle and hairy crank, all tasting like machine oil.

Chico was working his own fat penis now.

Still squatting, Rat reached between my legs and felt me, then went back to jerking himself, his face just about wedged between me and Hawk so he could get a good look. “Spit just adrippin’ down his chin!” He held himself up with one hand on my shoulder while he leaned forward. I could feel him shaking as he jerked.

The Monk had come up to stand behind Hawk, watching.

“Hey, come over here,” Ape called. “You about to miss your turn, Monk, less you goin’ in for boy-pussy tonight!”

The Monk grinned, shook his head, and walked back to where Maria was taking them on.

“Hey, cocksucker,” Chico said. “Hawk wants you to go around the world on his nuts. He been talkin’ about it all the way over here.”

Hawk was really leaning into my face, when somebody barked:

“Hey—!”

Hawk lost his stroke (but not his hard).

Without letting his dick go, I looked to the side.

Mr. Alvarez stopped on the steps. He was swaying, drunk as anybody there. Suddenly he laughed. “You motherfuckers really doin’ it to that bitch’s pussy, huh?” He squinted at the two guys on Maria. Three more stood around the mattress.

“Hey, Popa—!” Pedro squealed, as Mr. Alvarez’s hand went back.

I thought he was going to knock Pedro across the floor into the boiler. So did Pedro. But Mr. Alvarez staggered; his hand swung sideways, up, down. He must have thought that was funny too, because he laughed. “You got my little girl all ready for her daddy, hey, boy?” His hand moved around, hit Pedro’s cheek; he patted it clumsily and came down another step.