A couple of times I went after the whole length, and heard him panting above me, but he’d push me out to the end, one hand on my shoulder, his knuckles on my head, and I’d start chewing on it again. Finally, while I was yanking and growling, something sticky dribbled down my face. The wop caught both my ears between his palms to hold me still. I got my tongue under his foreskin and licked around, feeling the ring barring the full trip—the skin tight around the metal, loose and floppy on the other side.

“Goddamn …” the wop said.

I opened my teeth.

His cock fell against his pants.

From the big nozzle, drops of come rolled down the wet cloth of his thigh. Then a drop of something darker welled, staining the dark cloth black and losing its edges on the wet. He let go my head and shoved his dick back in his fly, taking deep breaths.

“Come on.” Hogg ran his hand through my wet hair, closed his fingers in a fist. “Look, you motherfuckers! I got some work for you to do!” I leaned against Hogg’s leg, put my arm around it. My knees were sore, so I rocked back to a squat. “I got an envelope here with the names of some bitches with some sloppy pussies that gotta be wrung out and knocked into shape.”

Across the floor, a trickle of piss wormed and widened. The nigger, leaning now on the wall, moved his black foot aside. (A red bulb burned in the wall socket above his head.) The trickle changed direction. When it reached his foot this time, he just looked down and spread his big toes.

I looked down.

You could see the bulb reflected.

“You get your usual bread,” Hogg was explaining. (I slipped one hand under his wet foot. The urine on the floor was warm.) “You guys with me on this job? What about you, Denny?”

Denny was sitting on a crate, running his hand, underhand and overhand, along his cock. It curved up higher than his bottom shirt button. “What …?” He looked up but didn’t stop rubbing.

“I said, you wanna go along with us on the job?”

“Where?”

“In the truck,” Hogg said. “To do some cunt bustin’—you can get yourself maybe forty or fifty dollars.”

“I don’t know how to drive,” Denny said. “I can handle a shotgun pretty good—but I never did learn to drive, you know?”

Which cracked the wop up laughing.

“Now come on,” Hogg said. “Shut up. You gonna come with us on this job, Denny? I told you how we do before—”

“Oh,” Denny said. “That … yeah, sure. I told you before too, I’d like to see some of that.”