Sally Boy (12 page)

After several long, relaxed pumps, Nicole’s
dripping cunt lubricated Sal’s cock sufficiently enough for him to
accelerate his movements. With every exhilarating, powerful stroke
he delivered, Nicole breathe deeper and deeper. Madly, she thrashed
her head back-and-forth from the scintillating pounding her cunt
was taking, causing her long blonde hair to whip around as if in a
wind storm.

Furiously, Sal fucked her pussy until his
cock started to experience a familiar sensation, that funny feeling
all men recognize. Knowing he would soon blow his massive load, Sal
looked down at her. “I’m almost there, baby.”

Overcome by gratification, Nicole’s eyes
rolled into the back of her head. Licking her lips, she gently bit
her lower lip and whispered, “Okay, baby.” Her body quivered and
shook until she stammered, “Oh my God! I’m gonna come again!”

Holding back his impending orgasm, Sal
continued thumping Nicole’s pussy as hard as he could in an effort
to prolong the feeling. Finally, unable to hold back any longer Sal
blurted, “I’m gonna come!”

“Come baby! Come in me!”

With all his might Sal blew his entire wad,
overfilling Nicole’s pussy with his syrupy cum.

“I can feel your explosion inside of me! I
can feel everything!” she whispered.

Certain every drop of his semen was spent,
Sal rolled off of Nicole, and lay down next to her on the bed.
Winded from the joy of youthful, uninhibited, raw sex, they were
both breathing deeply. Turning over onto her side, Sal nestled up
to Nicole from behind, spooning her. Tenderly he kissed her
shoulder.

“That was so incredible, Sal.”

“It was.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Did you really read a book to learn how to
do that?”

“Do what?” Sal asked playfully.

“You know what,” Nicole replied
bashfully.

“I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“Please, don’t make me say it, Sal.”

“No, I didn’t have to read a book.”

“Then where did you learn how to do
that?”

“It just all kinda happened when I put my
mouth down there.”

“Do you like doing that, Sal?”

“Yeah, I like it a lot. Do you like it?”

“I love it!”

Sal smiled. “Awright.”

“I’m really sorry about your sheets last
night. I hope you father doesn’t ask you how they got...got blood
on them.”

“Don’t worry about it. My father don’t do
the laundry.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Nicole, please don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks for letting me take a shower last
night.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted
you to feel comfortable.”

“Are you glad we left the party last
night?”

“Definitely, why do you ask?”

“Well, it was a going away party for Louie,
and I know he’s a good friend of yours.”

“Believe me, Louie didn’t miss me, or
anybody else last night. He spent the whole night hanging out with
Anna-Marie anyway.”

“They make such a cute couple. I really
like, Louie. He’s so funny.”

“Yeah, Louie’s a great guy.”

“Sal, are you sure you don’t regret leaving
his party?”

“I’m sure, Nicole.”

“I just didn’t want my first time to be in
Frankie’s basement.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t gonna be. We woulda
waited.”

Nicole smiled. “Can I ask you a
question?”

“I thought that’s what you been doing,” Sal
joked.

Smacking her lips, Nicole cried out,
“Sal!”

“I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

“What’s the matter with your friend,
Mikey?”

“What do you mean?”

“He seems so angry all the time. I heard he
got into an argument at the party with two girls and he tried to
hit one of them.”

“That’s not true. Mikey’s a good guy. He’s
just got a lotta built up anger.”

“Most of my girlfriends think he’s really
cute. But they won’t go out with him because of the way they see
him treat other girls. Why does he treat girls like that?”

“He’s confused. After his mother left, he
took it really hard. He was only ten when she left. Mike cried
every day for a week. When his father found out, he told him if he
didn’t stop crying, he was gonna drown him in the tub. I know his
father, Nicole. He meant it. Mikey never cried again after
that.”

“That’s terrible.”

“That’s the way things are around here,
Nicole. You know that.”

“I know. But things don’t have to be like
that.” Nicole said, sounding troubled.

“What’s the matter, Nicole?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, something’s bothering you. Tell me
what’s wrong. Please.”

“I was just thinking...I mean...if you don’t
mind me asking...I was just wondering, you know, where do we go
from here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what are we...are we just friends?
Or are we going to be something more?”

“What do you think we should be?”

“I would like to be your girlfriend,” Nicole
suggested shyly.

“I want that, too! I’ve wanted it for a long
time.” Sal smiled. “Now that we took carea that, is there anything
else on your mind?”

“No, that’s it.” Seeing the photograph of
Salvatore, his mother, and his Mama and Papa on the night stand,
Nicole asked interested, “Is that you?”

“Yeah.”

“May I see it?”

“Sure.” Reaching over Nicole, Sal snatched
up the photo off his nightstand and handed it to her.

Nicole examined the photo closely. “You were
such a handsome little boy. And your eyes, my God, are so
beautiful. Even back then.”

“Thank you,” Sal said humbly.

“Who are these other people?”

“My mother and my grandparents.”

“Your mother is gorgeous. God, I wish I
looked like her.”

“Not for nothing, but I’m kinda glad that
you look the way you do. It would be sorta weird if you looked like
my mother. If you know what I mean.”

Giggling, Nicole explained, “I didn’t mean
it like that, silly. I just meant she looks so refined and
sophisticated. Where is she now, back in Sicily?”

“She’s dead. So are my grandparents,” Sal
replied softly.

“I’m so sorry, Sal.”

“I know. It’s okay. I’m fine. It happened a
long time ago.”

“Here, put it back,” Nicole insisted handing
the picture back to Sal.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t think anyone should touch this but
you.”

“Nicole, it’s okay. But I understand what
you’re saying.” Taking the photo, Sal stretched over Nicole again,
and placed it back in its customary spot.

Turning onto her back, Nicole looked up at
Sal. “I hope I didn’t make you sad by asking about your
family.”

“You didn’t.”

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t ever want to do
anything that would make you sad.”

“If I ever am sad, I know something we can
do to make me happy again.”

“You do, huh?” Nicole said seductively.

“Yeah, I do.”

* * * * *

Standing in the kitchen with his arms folded
across his chest, Peter waited for his son to come out of the
bathroom. He was in unusually good spirits, because today wasn’t
just another day; it was his son’s eighteenth birthday. To
celebrate, Peter planned to take Sal to Yonkers Raceway to
capitalize on some tips he received from an acquaintance who worked
at the track as a horse trainer. “Hey fucko, hurry up. I don’t
wanna miss the first race,” Peter shouted impatiently.

“I’m hurrying, Pop. Take it easy,” Sal
yelled back, through a closed bathroom door.

“What the fuck are you doing in there?”
Peter said laughing. “You better not be choking your chicken!”

The bathroom door opened, and Sal stepped
out into the hall, dressed in his best clothes. Entering the
kitchen, he looked perturbed by his father’s insinuation. “That’s
really funny, Pop. How long did it take you to think that one
up?”

“Ah, shut the fuck up,” Peter fired back in
a lighthearted tone.

“I don’t know why I gotta get all dressed up
just to go to the track, anyways? It’s not like there’s gonna be
any people there we know.”

Adjusting his tie, Peter was dressed in a
charcoal grey, silk suit, with a black silk shirt, a matching silk
tie, and charcoal grey shoes. “You never know who you gonna run in
to, Salvatore. Take it from me, it’s always better to look good,
than to regret you didn’t. Remember that.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Pop,” Sal responded
sarcastically.

“Get in the fucking car you little
mamaluke!” Peter yelled, opening the front door.

Behind his father’s back, Sal stuck out his
tongue and rolled his eyes.

The two made their way down the steps to the
street, got into Peter’s car, and sped off. Holding the steering
wheel with one hand, Peter ran his other through his hair several
times before checking himself out in the rear-view mirror. With a
big smile, Peter waxed nostalgic, “I remember the first time you
rode in this car. You was just a little guy, right off the fucking
boat. Remember? You had no fucking clue which end was up. Now look
at you, you’re almost a grown man.”

Surprised by his father’s sentimentality,
Sal teased, “Hey Pop, you, awright? Did you hit your head or
something?”

“I was just thinking about...ah, shut the
fuck up.”

Sal snickered like a little boy. “Pop, I
still don’t get why I couldn’t bring Mikey and Anthony to the track
with us. It’s my birthday, right?”

“I didn’t want ’em with us, ’cause I didn’t
wanna see their ugly fucking mugs tonight. Awright?”

“Then why couldn’t I bring Nicole? She
woulda had a good time at the track. She loves horses.”

“‘She loves horses,’” Peter mocked in a
high-pitched voice. “Do you see me bringing a broad, huh? What? You
don’t think I got better things to do than spend the whole fucking
night watching you play kissy face with your little
girlfriend?”

“Jesus! I only turn eighteen once. I can’t
spend it with my friends. I can’t be with Nicole. I gotta tell you,
Pop, this birthday stinks already.”

“Ah, shut the fuck up!” Peter yelled as he
darted into a parking spot right in front of Tommy G’s Bar &
Grill.

Once a classy, popular mob hangout, Tommy
G’s was now just a local gin mill, but still a respected
neighborhood landmark. Many big-time Mafioso’s, including Charles
“Lucky” Luciano himself, frequented the establishment back in its
hey-day.

Flashing a look of disbelief, Sal turned
toward his father and cried out, “Why the hell are we stopping
here? I thought we was going to the track?”

“Take it easy. We are. I gotta talk to
somebody first. You wanna come in?”

“I’ll wait here.”

“Maybe you should come in.”

“I don’t wanna come in.”

“I think you should come in, Salvatore.”

“Pop, this joint is for the old rummy’s and
degenerate gamblers. I don’t wanna come in.”

“That’s the problem with kids your age. You
don’t respect nothing. I remember there was times when you couldn’t
even get in the fucking joint, ’cause it was so crowded with
wiseguys and beautiful broads.”

“When was that? When dinosaurs lived in the
Bronx?”

“Get outta the fucking car, you little
wise-ass!”

An irritated Sal scuffled out of the car.
Stepping out onto the street, he slammed the car door.

“Hey stunade, don’t slam my fucking
door.”

“Sorry! It was an accident.”

“You slam my fucking door again and you’re
gonna have an accident.” Touching the tip of his finger to his
tongue, Peter carefully worked a smudge off of the car’s hood.
“Let’s go. Get in there.”

Taking hold of the handle, Peter pulled the
heavy door open. “Go ahead.”

“You go first, Pop.”

Angrily biting his lower lip, Peter ordered,
“Get the fuck in there before I kick your ass.”

Kicking the ground like a little boy, Sal
reluctantly scooted through the entrance. As he stepped inside, an
assemblage of fifty or so of his friends consisting of every member
of the Golden Guinea’s, and all the pretty young girls from the
neighborhood, jumped out from the shadows and collectively
screamed, “Surprise!”

Sal struggled to contain his emotions
because he didn’t want to give his father the satisfaction of
knowing that he had fooled him.

Throwing his arm around his son, Peter shook
him hard. “You surprised, kid?”

Shaking his head, Sal muttered, “Not
really.”

“You’re fulla shit. You know that?”

Breaking into a tremendous smile, Sal
finally admitted, “Yeah! You got me good, Pop!”

“Happy birthday, Salvatore.” Peter smiled as
he hugged his son.

“Thanks, Pop.” Sal hugged back tightly.

“Go say ‘hello’ to your friends.”

As he stepped toward the crowd, Sal was
mobbed by all of his friends. Several of the guys jumped up on him
yelling, “Happy birthday, Sally Boy!” Sal gracefully caught the
over-enthusiastic party guests and set them down on their feet. The
rest of the fellas greeted the birthday boy with handshakes and
hugs while the female guests offered him pecks on the cheek.
Frankie Knuckles had to push several people out of the way so
Nicole could get to her man.

Finally, Nicole threw her arms around Sal,
and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. “Happy birthday,
handsome!”

Peter strolled toward the bar where his
Brooklyn Family associates already occupied every barstool and were
drinking heavily. A banner stretching above the bar from one end to
the other read: “Happy Birthday, Sally Boy.”

Although Peter could have held the party
anywhere he wished, he chose to have the party at Tommy G’s for old
time’s sake. The proprietor had a cleaning crew working on the
establishment for three straight days to ensure that Peter was
satisfied.

The bar had fifteen seats, usually occupied
by old, unshaven rummies. The faded paint peeled, several ceiling
tiles were missing, and the plumbing leaked, but the joint still
hadn’t lost its charm. Covering the entire wall behind the bar were
photos of great Italian-American heroes: Rocky Marciano, Joe
DiMaggio, Frank Sinatra, Rocky Graziano, Dean Martin, and Jake
LaMotta, just to name a few. There was a pool table, a jukebox, and
a cigarette machine. A worn out patch in the center of the floor
was where people danced, usually when they had too much booze, or
if some pretty girls wished to cut a rug.