"Oh, yeah...!" He looked at the nigger. "She really chomp down on it, shit, I'll cut her head off."

  Suddenly she got one arm free of Hogg's grip and reached up to try and push the wop's genitals away, pulling back while he nearly squat-walked over her to keep it in.

  "Fuck. . ." Hogg grunted, and his hand came up and hit at her face.

  She must have bit a little because the wop grinned. "That's it, sweetheart!" He yanked her hair a little, and she just let her hand stay on his knee.

  I got around so I could see better.

  Her loose spit ran down the wop's balls, dripped from the hair, and made a little spot on the carpet between his workshoes.

  "Hey," the nigger said. "Look over here, boy." His cock and balls were hanging out his fly. His dick was shiny. His legs were apart. He flexed his toes on the rug. He put his hands behind his sac to scratch. "Come on, boy. She don't got enough holes for all of us at once. That's what you're here for."

  I glanced at Hogg's hand locked around her upper arm. His fingers had tracked my cum around her elbow; there were still wet places between his big knuckles; squeezing bunched up his nubs in front of his wrecked nails.

  I went to the nigger and stooped.

  His cock swung up and hit my chin.

  He grabbed my hair and I took it—you could smell the shit a lot— down far enough to gag.

  "Suck it, cocksucker!" His hips twisted; I was almost kneeling on his feet; his hands went around to lock behind my head so that I couldn't get back too far. He worked a long time. Which was good.

  Then his buttocks went hard under my palms and he tried to get his cock into my belly. I kept his spilled scum in my mouth, though, bitter and slimy and flavored with: "Shit...," the nigger said, let go my head, and pulled out. His glistening cock fell down my chin.

  Denny was standing up now (overhand, underhand; I've seen a couple of guys who could stay up that long if they had a rubber band around it or something, but not like him), and Hogg had moved around to her pussy.

  The wop, holding her head up with both hands, had dropped the knife again and was grunting in her face.

  "Hey, nigger!" Hogg called, lifting his sweating face. "Get over here and plug this bitch's ass again. I wanna see what your dick feels like up against mine."

  "Now just a second." The nigger was mauling his black hose. "Just a second. Give me about thirty seconds, motherfucker, and I'll have it up there for you." Bobbing a little, a little bowlegged, and grinning his scarred grin, the nigger walked over to them. His dick had only sagged to about forty-five degrees before it had come up again. He sat down on the floor with them and got into position.

  "You limp-mouthed bitch!" the wop whispered. "Use your goddamn teeth! Goddamn it, let's feel some teeth on my dick! Shit!"

  "This is something, huh?" Denny said. His dick still stuck out, but he'd hooked his thumbs in the twine around his pants. "How you holding up?"

  I still had the nigger's scum in my mouth.

  Denny reached out and rubbed away a drop that ran down my chin with his knuckle, brought his knuckle back to his mouth, licked it. Then he must have figured out what I was holding. "Hey, boy, come here!" He put his hands on the sides of my head—his fingers were moist and hot—and came toward me with his mouth open and his tongue out. I opened my mouth and some of it drooled out before his face locked against mine; his cockhead kept butting my belly, so I took it in my hand. We pushed our tongues together in the stuff. We gave it back and forth, with a lot of spit. He got one hand behind my neck and the other one around my

  shoulders while he rooted in my gullet—

  Something hit the back of my head so hard that, reeling, I bit my tongue.

  "Cut that shit!" Hogg bellowed.

  I guess I tripped on the rug; and went down. I kept on trying to get my eyes focused. The back of my head hurt like hell.

  Something—it was Hogg's bare foot—hit my chest hard enough to knock me on my back. I grabbed his ankle and opened my eyes.

  "Get on back over there, you weasly bastard!" That was to Denny. "You got some more hots, go spill it in the bitch's cunt. You're gettin' paid for this, remember! So do some work!"

  Denny nodded fast. "Yeah, sure, Hogg! Sure!" His cock was still up, and he was holding onto it with one hand like he was afraid Hogg would reach over and yank it off.

  Denny scooted back to the woman.

  I looked up. Hogg's balls hung out his fly; his thick cock, with its hose of foreskin, curved down left of his nuts. Above that, I could see his blond gut pushing over his belt. His shirt hung open. He stared down at me, panting a little; he looked pretty fierce. When he let up with his foot just a little, I slipped down and pulled it against my face, got the first two toes in my mouth and jabbed my tongue for the jam between. After a second, he began to flex them, pushing his foot further in, getting in two more toes, and trying to grip my tongue.

  Then he grinned, and rocked my head.

  I watched his cuff shaking. I licked the gritty underside of his foot, then pulled myself up his leg, brushed my face on the hot skin of his balls, pushed my mouth into his crotch's stench, rubbed his wet cock on my face. He put his hand down to adjust himself against my face. I licked his fingers, which were still tacky with half-dried pussy juice and cum. I went back and forth between licking his balls and sucking his fingers. His cock rose beside my cheek. Finally he took hold of my head and pushed his dick into my mouth. He chuckled again, began to rock, stuffing his dick deep, thrusting and thrusting while I held my arms around his rocking hips. When he came, I backed to the tip, to take it in the front of my mouth, digging inside his long, loose, cheesy crease. Finishing, he let go of his breath and his bladder. I went down to the hilt again to suck his piss. He stuck a thumb beside his cock, tickling the side of his dick and my tongue, swiveling his big hand around my face,

  wiping hot leakage under my chin, up my cheeks, and back against his testicles. His pants leg, soaked in urine, wet my t-shirt. I drank all I could. Which was a lot. But the rest kept blowing up my cheeks to splash out finally over Hogg's pants and hands. I tried to hold my tongue over the tip and plug him but you can't do that. Gasping and grunting, he finally stilled.

  And still holding me by the face, he shouted: "Hey, you motherfuckers! Get the shit up from there! We can't haul that dead-ass pussy around all goddamn night. We still got work to do."

  "Motherfucker. ..." From Denny's panting, I could tell he was fucking her again, "—you won't let me neck with the cocksucker, and ... now you don't give me time to get my rocks ... off in here..."

  "You want to drop your cookies?" the nigger asked, drawling real slow. "Okay . . . here you go, boy!" I heard three loud slaps.

  Denny caught his breath at each one; the woman moaned.

  "You shoot?" the nigger asked.

  Denny was still panting, but different. "You bet your black ass I did, Nigg!"

  "Shit," the nigger said. "You mean your sore one. I know what you like, boy."

  Hogg rubbed his wet hand in my hair. He had his foot in my lap and was rubbing my soaked crotch. The last of his piss dripped off my chin. He reached down and thumbed piss out of my eye, then ran his thumb in his mouth.

  The nigger and Denny were standing near the woman, laughing together about something.

  The wop stood, one shoe either side of her; he was closing his jumper. He wiped his knife on his hip—it made a wide smear—and put it in his pocket. The woman was still breathing, though. And I didn't see much blood on the floor, so maybe he had only made shallow cuts.

  Hogg's cock—almost soft now—fell out my mouth; and he shoved himself back into his fly, pretty fast. Yellow hairs still stuck through the fly flaps. "Come on, you guys. Get yourself together, huh?"

  Drops from the edge of his cuff caught in the bright hair on the top of his dirty foot, rolled between the grimy ligaments, ran down the blacker troughs between his filthy toes.

  I put my hand around the back of his leg and pushed my fingers between his wet thighs. He shook me by the hair. "Come on, get up.

  Let's go." Hand on the back of my head, he walked me across the rug. "You see," he said. "Now this is more like what I usually do."

  We waited at the door while the wop cut the phone wires. I stood next to Hogg, who kept rubbing the back of my neck. Piss kept dripping from my hair, running over his fingers, and down my neck.

  I looked back at the woman.

  I think she'd moved. Her face was straight down on the floor, which was a way I never thought you could lie because your nose got in the way. But maybe hers was broken. Her legs were wide and there was blood inside her thighs. By now, some was spreading on the rug. One arm was bent funny, so her hand lay among brown and white ceramic.

  Closing the cabin door—the seven had come loose from one screw and leaned against the eight—it looked just like the other cabin doors that curved down toward the motel office. The red Vacancy sign blinked and blinked at the driveway entrance.

  I climbed up into the truck next to Hogg. The wop slid over next to me, slid his hand under my ass without saying anything, except: "This truck smells like a fuckin' latrine! Nigger, this place must stink bad as the inside of your black ass! Denny, you wanna sit on my dick? There ain't hardly enough room in here anyway, and I'm damned if I can stay in a place that smells like this with a soft cock!"

  "I don't want that thing on your dickhead tearin' up my insides," Denny said, squirming to get comfortable.

  "Come on!" The wop leaned back and lifted his buttocks to pull over his jumper right. Then he took his cock out. "Come on, now. There ain't enough room for all of us to sit out side by side, anyway."

  "All right," Denny said. "All right. Just a minute, now. Just a minute."

  His pants around his knees, Denny eased himself down on the wop's cock.

  "Feel good?"

  "Come on, come on," Denny said. "Fuck me, huh?"

  The wop hugged Denny's belly with one arm and began to grunt and hump. His other hand flexed under me. Beside them, the nigger chuckled. Below us the motor rolled over.

  Denny said, "Umph ..." a few times, but that was all. He'd given up on his dick awhile—it still stuck up like a yam—and was kneading his scrotum now.

  Hogg glanced over. "Go on. Suck him off."

  I bent over and took Denny's dick in my mouth. The wop had gotten his hand inside the tear in my pants and was digging his middle finger in me. A couple of times Hogg reached over and rubbed my back. My t-shirt was cold now. But it was Hogg's piss; so I didn't care.

  Sucking off Denny, I found, never took too long.

  I sat up and looked at Hogg. He was just driving and looking out at the highway lights. I looked at his lap. In the light passing, I saw the stains of dried fuck at the open fly, yellow hair, and the crumpled vein across his cock, thick as a pencil. His leg moved as he went to the brake: his fly shifted.

  I touched his cock.

  It was half hard.

  He opened his knees wider so I could get it out. It got loose from the zipper; I went under Hogg's elbow and drooled Denny's come all over it—I'd kept it in my mouth.

  "Oh, shit. . .," Hogg said softly. I took the head in my mouth, nibbled and poked around in his foreskin. Then I swallowed it all the way; he took one hand off the wheel and scratched the back of my head. It was a long lazy suck. A few times (I kept thinking: he wants his scum back), Denny reached over to get his hands in the works. I kept waiting for Hogg to push me off and say something about us having more work to do that night. But he didn't.

  Every ten or fifteen minutes—I think for a while I went to sleep with Hogg's cock in my mouth, but it was probably only for a few seconds and I'm not sure—under my slow tongue, Hogg would spurt, randomly, half a cup of piss.

  He rubbed my head. "Hey, Dago, you got that envelope?"

  "Right here, Hogg!"

  The motor thrummed.

  The nigger snored.

  "I got 'em—" the nigger called down to us, rummaging in the glove compartment; he dragged out the chains.

  They chattered down, to swing from his fist's black knot. He turned in the cab doorway, hefted them once, and jumped.

  "Good," Hogg said; he squeezed my shoulder. "I knew they was in there, Nigg."

  Denny's fist slowed at his groin—for a moment it was going at the same rate as the swinging chain.

  By the light up on the telephone pole, I could see the wop moving his hand in his pocket, playing with himself in his pants so that first I could see his knife's shape and then I could see his cock's shape.

  Hogg beckoned with his chin.

  We walked up between the pines. There was no light on in either of the store's display windows.

  "Looks like she's closed," the wop said.

  "Note said she slept in the back," Hogg said. "We'll get in. She's suppose to got a daughter. Mr. Jonas' note says we don't have to do nothin' to her if we don't want." I could hear him grinning. "But it ain't gonna bother him none if we have some fun with her too."

  "Shit!" the nigger said. He jarred the chains; the links rang.

  Hogg rubbed his pants. "Yeah." (The drying piss was making me scratchy too.) "We don't have to let her alone either."

  Nigg rapped on the door.

  After half a minute, he rapped again. And then again.

  Finally, a woman inside said, "What you want?"

  "Excuse me, ma'am," Dago called. "Can you help us out for a second?"

  She opened the door with one hand, rubbing her eyes with the other. "Usually I'm up this time. But I was taking a nap. What can I do for you boys?" She had on a man's blue workshirt and jeans. "I'm not supposed to be open but I can—"

  The nigger, grinning—and the grin suddenly went from all lips to all teeth—swung the chains (Christ, they hit loud!) at her face.

  She snarled, reeling to the side, holding her head, shaking her head, her mouth wide, one eye closed, all crouched over. Still snarling, it was like the sound of the links going on. She backed toward the counter.

  Hogg started after her. There was blood on her face. Hogg stepped around a spool of green hose. "Lady, first we're gonna hurt you. Then we're gonna fuck you. Then we're gonna hurt you some more."

  "And maybe," the nigger said, "we'll fuck you some more, too."

  Her hand, flapping back behind her, hit the counter; she grabbed for the shotgun.

  But I guess the wop saw it before I did; he was already there, yanking it away from her before she could get it up; I thought he was going to shoot her from the hip like I saw once in a western on TV. But he just whapped the side of the barrel against her belly. But hard. She banged into the counter again. One eye was puffed and her cheek was bruised dark as a coal smear. She came away from the counter, hissing: "... you come here for that goddamn bastard, Jimmy! You're here for Jimmy, aren't you? Well, I don't want none of Jimmy's shit no more, goddamn it! You sons of bitches get out of my place and tell Jimmy I don't give a fuck what he—"

  The wop whapped her again.

  Then the girl none of us had seen, sitting in the back doorway, screamed, darting forward from the shadow; metal spokes glittered at her side, till her hands clamped the rubber rims. For a moment I thought she was going to propel the chair back into the darkness.

  "Oh, shit now," Dago said. "She's about as cute a piece of pussy as my old lady!"

  "Goddamn it, you leave her alone! If Jimmy's got any business, he's got it with me—"

  Nigg's shoulders jerked with the chain's swing. His lips were back and his tongue made a peppery bulge between his teeth.

  The woman staggered without a sound.

  Chain flailed back the other way.

  The woman went down on her knees, holding her head with both hands.

  The wop took a breath, opened the rifle, saw there were no shells in it, laughed, and started to lean it against the counter; when suddenly the chair shot forward.

  With sweeping strokes, the girl sent it around the pyramid of paint cans. She barreled toward Hogg, who turned, said, "Huh—?" and started back. If she'd crashed full into him, he would have been ready. But, at the last moment, she clamped her hand on one wheel so that the chair spun; the two ten-inch handles off the back—the rubber had worn half off one—raked his belly, just over his groin.

  Teeth gritted back over her shoulder, the girl sent herself back into him, hard. Hogg grabbed himself and staggered.

  The chair went forward again.

  Hogg lunged for it and missed, going down on one knee.

  "Goddamn...!" the wop said, then ducked. The paint tin hit his head anyway. "Damn—!" He moved back.

  The second one she hurled—by the central table she had raked half a dozen pint cans into her lap—missed; but she wasn't screaming anymore. She turned in the seat and hurled the third one at Hogg. It hit his shoulder, and I don't know if it was pain or surprise, but it stopped him.

  "Hey, now, little lady—" the nigger said, hefting chain.

  She whirled her chair to face him.

  "Hey, now—" the wop repeated.

  Her hands reversed directions on the wheels and she swung back; because the wop was a lot closer.

  The wop said, "Maybe we can have ourselves some real fun with you!"

  "Fuckyow ...I" she hissed. "Fuck you, you bastards—!" Another can came up, back, then forward.

  The wop ducked left; which was a mistake, because she'd figured that was the way he was going. It hit him full in the face, and from pushing around in that chair, I guess, she had a pretty good arm.

  The wop held his cheek. Rubbing it and squinting, he took a step forward.

  "You leave her alone!" the woman shouted. "Don't you touch her! Jimmy don't have any argument with her! You bastards keep your hands off—" which is when the nigger, chains in both hands, threw them around her neck and yanked her against him.

  The girl darted the wheelchair forward, swiveled again, then backed away. The cans rolled from her lap. One landed upright. Two rolled across the dusty boards.

  Then Denny and the wop rushed her.

  Denny went around one side of the center table. The wop pushed over the grinning man in bib overalls (cardboard) unreeling a spool of green rubber garden hose (the hose on its metal spool was real), and came around the other.