"Holy shit! Get him, Morrie!"

Moscowitz was a puncher. He dug a left to that pot belly. Wagner gasped and dropped. He fell to both knees. His face was cut and bleeding. His chin was on his chest and he looked sick.

"I quit," Wagner said.

We left him there behind the building and we followed Morris Moscowitz out of there. He was our new hero.

"Shit, Morrie, you ought to turn pro!"

"Naw, I'm only thirteen years old."

We walked over behind the machine shop and stood around the steps. Somebody lit up some cigarettes and we passed them around.

"What has that man got against us?" asked Morrie.

"Hell, Morrie, don't you know? He's jealous. He thinks we're fucking all the chicks!"

"Why, I've never even kissed a girl."

"No shit, Morrie?"

"No shit."

"You ought to try dry-fucking, Morrie, it's great!"

Then we saw Wagner walking past. He was working on his face with his handkerchief.

"Hey, coach," yelled one of the guys, "how about a rematch?"

He stood and looked at us. "You boys put out those cigarettes!"

"Ah, no, coach, we like to smoke!"

"Come on over here, coach, and make us put out our cigarettes!"

"Yeah, come on, coach!"

Wagner stood looking at us. "I'm not done with you yet! I'll get every one of you, one way or the other!"

"How ya gonna do that, coach? Your talents seem limited."

"Yeah, coach, how ya gonna do it?"

He walked off the field to his car. I felt a little sorry for him. When a guy was that nasty he should be able to back it up.

"I guess he doesn't think there'll be a virgin on the grounds by the time we graduate," said one of the guys.

"I think," said another guy, "that somebody jacked-off into his ear and he has come for brains."

We left after that. It had been a fairly good day.

26

My mother went to her low-paying job each morning and my father, who didn't have a job, left each morning too. Although most of the neighbors were unemployed he didn't want them to think he was jobless. So he got into his car each morning at the same time and drove off as if he were going to work. Then in the evening he would return at exactly the same time. It was good for me because I had the place to myself. They locked the house but I knew how to get in. I would unhook the screen door with a piece of cardboard. They locked the porch door with a key from the inside. I slid a newspaper under the door and poked the key out. Then I pulled the newspaper from under the door and the key came with it. I would unlock the door and go in. When I left I would hook the screen door, lock the back porch door from the inside, leaving the key in. Then I would leave through the front door, putting the latch on lock.

I liked being alone. One day I was playing one of my games. There was a clock on the mantle with a second hand and I held contests to see how long I could hold my breath. Each time I did it I exceeded my own record. I went through much agony but I was proud each time I added some seconds to my record. This day I added a full five seconds and I was standing getting my breath back when I walked to the front window. It was a large window covered by red drapes. There was a crack between the drapes and I looked out. Jesus Christ! Our window was directly across from the front porch of the Andersons' house. Mrs. Anderson was sitting on the steps, and I could look right up her dress. She was about 23 and had marvelously shaped legs. I could see almost all the way up her dress. Then I remember my father's army binoculars. They were on the top shelf of his closet. I ran and got them, ran back, crouched down and adjusted them to Mrs. Anderson's legs. It took me right up there! And it was different from looking at Miss Gredis' legs: you didn't have to pretend you weren't looking. You could concentrate. And I did. I was right there. I was red hot. Jesus Christ, what legs, what flanks! And each time she moved, it was unbearable and unbelievable.

I got down on my knees and I held the binoculars with one hand and pulled my cock out with the other. I spit in my palm and began. For a moment I thought I saw a flash of panties. I was about to come. I stopped. I kept looking with the binocs and then I started rubbing again. When I was about to come I stopped again. Then I waited and began rubbing again. This time I knew I wouldn't be able to stop. She was right there. I was looking right up her! It was like fucking. I came. I spurted all over the hardwood floor in front of the window. It was white and thick. I got up and went to the bathroom and got some toilet paper, came back and wiped it up. I took it back to the toilet and flushed it away.

Mrs. Anderson came and sat on those steps almost every day and each time she did I got the binocs and whacked-off.

If Mr. Anderson ever finds out about this, I thought, he'll kill me.. .

My parents went to the movies every Wednesday night. The theatre had drawings for money and they wanted to win some money. It was on a Wednesday night that I discovered something. The Pirozzis lived in the house south of ours. Our driveway ran along the north side of their house and there was a window which looked into their front room. The window was veiled by a thin curtain. There was a wall which became an arch over the front of our driveway and there were bushes all about. When I got between that wall and the window, in among all those bushes, nobody could see me from the street, especially at night.

I crawled in there. It was great, better than I expected. Mrs. Pirozzi was sitting on the couch reading a newspaper. Her legs were crossed, and in an easy chair across the room, Mr. Pirozzi was reading a newspaper. Mrs. Pirozzi was not as young as Miss Gredis or Mrs. Anderson, but she had good legs and she had on high heels and almost every time she turned a page of her newspaper, she'd cross her legs and her skirt would climb higher and I would see more.

If my parents come home from the movie and catch me here, I thought, then my life is over. But it's worth it. It's worth the risk.

I stayed very quiet behind the window and stared at Mrs. Pirozzi's legs. They had a large collie, Jeff, who was asleep in front of the door. I had looked at Miss Gredis' legs that day in English class, then I had whacked-off to Mrs. Anderson's legs, and now - there was more. Why didn't Mr. Pirozzi look at Mrs. Pirozzi's legs? He just kept reading his newspaper. It was obvious that Mrs. Pirozzi was trying to tease him because her skirt kept climbing higher and higher. Then she turned a page and crossed her legs very fast and her skirt flipped back exposing her pure white thighs. She was just like buttermilk! Unbelievable! She was best of all!

Then from the corner of my eye I saw Mr. Pirozzi's legs move. He stood up very quickly and moved toward the front door. I started running, crashing through the bushes. I heard him open his front door. I was down the driveway and into our backyard and behind the garage. I stood a moment, listening. Then I climbed the back fence, over the vines and on over into the next backyard. I ran through that yard and up the driveway and I began dog-trotting south down the street like a guy practicing for track. There was nobody behind me but I kept trotting. If he knows it was me, if he tells my father, I'm dead. But maybe he just let the dog out to take a shit? I trotted down to West Adams Boulevard and sat on a streetcar bench. I sat there five minutes or so, then I walked back home. When I got there, my parents weren't back yet. I went inside, undressed, turned out the lights and waited for morning…

Another Wednesday night Baldy and I were taking our usual short cut between two apartment houses. We were on our way to his father's wine cellar when Baldy stopped at a window. The shade was almost down but not quite. Baldy stopped, bent, and peeked inside. He waved me over.