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I told her I didn't feel I could handle the ride on the school bus without throwing up. She shoved a thermometer in my mouth and read my temperature. Tony stopped in my doorway and asked, What's goin' on? Mom sighed. Well, he doesn't have much of a temperature. It's just under one hundred. Tony grunted, C'mon, Speedy, you're not that sick. Get up and get ready for school. You'll feel better when you start movin' around. Mom, in her bathrobe and slippers, followed him into the living room as he donned his carcoat and got ready for work. Well, she said, he does have a brother gay incest photos little fever, not much. Do you think it might get worse? Gay incest damn. People go to work and school all the time when they're a little sick.

I go to work when I feel like shit, myself. Hell, gay incest he ain't sick. Get him dressed and get him to school gay incest. My brief nap did leave me brother gay incest porn feeling improved, and I supposed Tony was right. Besides, I didn't want to admit that anything could floor me that easily, and I did have to keep up with my work. So I dressed and boarded the bus as gay incest usual. But during the long ride to school the pain and nausea increased. I began perspiring. Repressing the desire to throw up was becoming an effort. As usual, I arrived at school and got into the line of th graders. Sister Immaculata led us into the church for our daily eight o'clock Mass. Halfway through the service, I feared I could no longer hold back my urges. At one point some bitter stomach fluid jumped into the back of my throat trembling, I knew an eruption was looming. Climbing over the other students in my pew, gay incest I crept softly to Sister Immaculata, who sat in the aisle seat in the back pew looking prim and fresh in her starched white Dominican collar and pristine black robes. What's wrong, child? she asked, a gay incest little irritably.

Sister gay incest. I feel sick. I think I should go to brother gay incest cartoons the restroom. Now, just be patient. Mass will be over soon, and you can go. But, Sister, I don't need to. 'go gay incest'. I feel sick. And my stomach hurts. Oh. Well. patience, child. The service will end soon and we can take a look at you. Sister Immaculata did not have more time to protest or to talk me into thinking I felt better. A split second later, to my own surprise as well as hers, I noisily and violently threw up a huge serving of redolent vomit directly into the lap of her long brown robes. She rose instantly as the pale yellow stuff spilled down her clothing and onto the floor. Grabbing my arm, she rushed me through the nearby rear door and into the vestibule.

Despite my best efforts, I deposited another raging load that drenched her entire right side and clung to every shiny bead of the heavy rosary and the large silver crucifix that hung from her hips. When we were safely in the boy's restroom at the rear of the church I began to cry. I'm sorry, Sister, I sobbed, almost hysterical with embarrassment. I'm so sorry, I tried to hold it back! It's all right, dear. You couldn't help it. I didn't realize you were so ill. Poor child, I should have listened to you. It's all right. I was kept in seclusion in a small office in the rear of the church, with Sister Immaculata sitting beside me and holding my hand until another nun and the assistant pastor showed up to relieve her. Thank- fully, the other students couldn't see me there. I feared I could never face them again so many of them had both heard and seen me throw up on Sister Immaculata. For my entire stay in the office, which lasted almost an hour until yet another priest showed up to drive me to St. Joseph's hospital in the official black pastoral Chevrolet, I apologized again and again for drenching Sister Immaculata. Secretly, in my impish self that I never let anyone know about, I was telling myself that this was what stupid adults had coming to them for not listening to me. There was, indeed, an almost satanic satisfaction in being brother gay incest stories able to say secretly, There!

Now they'll believe me. At St. Joseph's I was examined quickly by a tall doctor who smiled indulgently when he was finished and had me lie down on a hard-cushioned cot until my stepdad arrived. Both of them stood in the doorway of the antiseptic room and joked and brother gay incest pictures chatted. I had appendicitis. They would have to operate. I would be in surgery that afternoon. Operate gay incest? I repeated fearfully brother gay incest porn from the cot. They both laughed. Mr. Lobianco, the doctor chuckled, I think the word 'operate' made your son turn white as a ghost. They were amused at my stunned reaction, but I wasn't. How could I have allowed myself to get so sick? It was a sign of weakness and power- lessness that I found totally unacceptable. But there wasn't much I could do about it within the hour I was dressed in a thin cotton hospital gown and wheeled into surgery. Lying face-up on the surgical wagon in the middle of a small operating room, I looked up to find myself surrounded by white-masked faces.

Firm hands placed a cool damp white cloth over my eyes, and then I felt the ether mask covering my mouth and noise. Just relax, a nurse crooned. Relax, now, and breathe slowly through your nose. Don't brother gay incest stories open your mouth, dear. Breathe only through your nose. Understand? Breathe deeply, now. Thaaaat's right. I could not relax and trust them. I felt overcome by all those faces and then I saw only the unfocussed white of the cloth over my eyes. Sud- denly the acrid odor of ether burned the lining of my nose. Then my throat burned. I felt as if I were being suffocated. I became aware of the low buzz of the bright neon operating lamp that I knew was suspended just over my face. I made a brief moaning sound to let the others know that the gas was burning my nose and that I couldn't breathe. Sensing no reaction from them, I groaned more loudly.

But they ignored me. Then I panicked I could not breathe, I brother gay incest pictures was choking. The lining of my gay incest nose burned so painfully that I felt my sinuses would burst. Someone held me down with a ruthless pressure on my chest. I was afraid to open my mouth and scream, fearing that to do so would gay incest cause the ether to burn my mouth and throat. I began thrashing about and moaning, then moaned louder and louder. Unable to scream through gay incest my mouth, I screamed through my moan and felt my throat scalded by the force of the sounds I was making. I heard someone shout, Grab his arms! I struggled violently, grasping and brother gay incest porn scratching into space. But I couldn't move! The buzz of the operat- ing lamp grew into the deafening, terrifying buzz that I'd heard in my dreams. The white cloth over my eyes began to swim and circle in my sight, even though brother gay incest galleries I knew my eyes were closed. I could feel myself drifting, then sinking back into nothing. I was shrinking, dying, and the white universe expanded swiftly. My moans and the wild buzz merged into a single strange sound that rose to a blaring hum and then slowly, slowly, slowly decreased in frequency and then in volume, until it became a low helpless drone in the drowning murk. I surrendered to the white death, and to the blackening veil and the silence that fell quickly and softly over everything. I was unconscious into the evening.

When I awoke I lay partly on my right side in a huge, soft hospital bed. I blinked. I was actually alive. I had a pounding headache. There you are, said the sugar-sweet voice of a very pretty nurse. Her gorgeous face was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes. Feel all right now? It stings, I moaned, referring to my stitched and tightly bandaged tummy. Well, don't you worry, that'll go away. Say, mister, what happened to you in there? It took four people to hold you down. You're really strong, you know that? You're just about the strongest young man we've ever seen around here. You feel better now?

I never had the chance to answer the lovely nurse's question. She was so beautiful, all I really wanted to say was that she had made me instantly horny and that I wanted to screw her brains out. But the pain of the stitches in my side became my overriding concern. That, and the pesky injections three times a day that left my right arm cramped for several hours and the unfilling diet of jello and Cream of Wheat and, during the next three days, the parade of relatives that passed through my room. As with my first hospital stay, years ago following the fight in the project, everyone in the Ricci clan showed up or called or sent a card. But now the Lobianco family and a vast array of their kin cruised in and out of view. My stepdad had fifteen brothers and sisters, and it seems most of them showed up. Almost all of them lived in the Little Flower parish, in the same part of town as the hospital. I met for the first time the enchanting, smoky-eyed Aunt Theresa Lobianco who would be a major figure in my sexual fantasies for many years. And Josephine Louise, who worked nearby, stopped in on her lunch hour each day to grin and joke around and then exit, leaving me with a horrendous erection. And then there was the phone call from Martha. She spoke first with my Mom, who filled her in on all the medical details and then handed the phone to me. What are you doing in the hospital again, cowboy? Can't you stay out of trouble? With my heart pounding, my mind swirling, and everyone in the room listening, I had to carefully consider every word I spoke and every expression on my face. After beating around the bush for a few sentences I asked, So, are you married yet? Married! Martha laughed hysterically.

God, I don't have time to get married! Mightily relieved, I didn't even hear the rest of our conversation. Martha couldn't say when or if she would be back for a visit. She wanted me to hurry and get well. I wanted to hurry and get well, too.