Chapter 1

I probably shouldn’t be writing anything out in public about my former best friend, Lenny Mazurka, but now that he is dead and buried, I can only say, “What’s the problem?”

Lenny and I go way back.

Back before his womanizing became a national scandal and images of his schlong were posted on billboards and sides of city buses like some sort of heretical endorsement of a hedonistic lifestyle. I had a good laugh right after the story broke about his deal with the Hollywood Madame and I saw him on television standing next to a couple of broads with bodacious boobs talking about some lubrication product that was supposed to give females a tingle that they would treasure forever.

I remembered the first time I had ever had sex with a real live girl and the fact that it was Lenny’s leftover just following his instructions to “treat him real nice, honey!”

Looking back on it now, I guess I should be ashamed for my less than appropriate behavior, but a teenaged boy with a “still a virgin problem” doesn’t take time to consider all the angles. My only response was to look frantically for a rubber so I wouldn’t miss the opportunity of a lifetime.

That first time for me was a memorable experience even though the dirty blonde with the potty mouth kept calling me “Lenny” when she was reacting to my ten inches buried in her pretty female business. I didn’t mind because all the girls were “gaga” over him in those years. He only had to show off his ultra-slender waistline and give them a profile of his cute pointed chin. It never failed to make them ready to cause their undies to disappear, if he so much as just crooked his little pinky for show time.

Gloria Gabor was one of those bright-eyed young things that loved looking over her shoulder to see what she was getting on the other end. Lenny had used her, abused her and generally wore her female parts to a frazzle keeping up with his voracious need for feminine companionship that considered a cuddle the prologue for the actual story.

At any rate, I managed to “get it on” with Gloria at a time when she was real confused about the signals that Lenny was sending her almost non-stop ever since she had surrendered the secrets of her anal delights to his plundering satisfaction. I knew the signs real good because Lenny was one of those guys that worked his ass off to get into a girl’s rear-end and once he had succeeded, he lost all interest in the broad and wanted to move on to greener pastures.

I lost no time in plumbing Gloria’s gorgeous depths and much to my surprise we seemed to hit it off with an audible “Bang”. She was eager to give me what every teenaged boy dreams about and seldom gets to experience, except in a fantasy world of magazines and silly video movies.

Anyways, this story is about Lenny.

Gloria is a story for another day.

Lenny was doing fantastic until he managed to get on the wrong side of the “Wise Guys” that pretty much ran everything around us in the neighborhood, except possibly inside the church where sanctuary was a sacred concept and even the wise guys kept hands off with superstitious aversion to test the power of the almighty.

He was supposed to be singing at one of Mario Leone’s things for his eldest daughter’s wedding and had been so boozed up with the free drinks at the Union Hall that he missed the entire shindig. I was commiserating with him in the basement mass at Saint Bernard’s. It was the first time I saw a hint of fear in his eyes, when he talked about the mob guys and their silly code of honor that required a prompt response to some sort of supposed insult to their authority in the community.

We saw a pair of Don Leone’s soldiers in the back of the church. They were standing right next to the holy water and I fully expected it to start steaming and evaporating just because they were so close with their evil intent. I was still a bit of a romantic and probably overly naïve at that point in my life and I saw everything in black and white with no understanding at all for the expanse of grey in between.

I wanted to help my best friend, so I scurried from the basement church to the Pizza parlor that acted as Don Leone’s headquarters. They knew I was coming as far away as five blocks from the innocent looking little “by the slice” restaurant with absolutely no frills whatsoever. I liked the place because it was so honest in delivering a decent slice of pizza for a fair price and if you didn’t like it, just move on and find some other place to sit your ass down and fill your belly.

It was a mix of wise guys and teenagers looking for a cheap snack and hooking up with one of the local “easy lays” that would bend over for pizza, a coke and maybe a back row seat at the movie-house with the miracle air conditioning that almost chilled your spine with constant blasts of refrigerated air. It was dark and secretive and the sound of furtive sexual fumbling was loudest in the last row where the girls would do almost anything just to get that sense of tingling romance. Even the “nice” girls were ready to spread their knees watching Jimmy Dean or one of those sensitive Hollywood types with perfect teeth and a smile that would charm the panties off a nun.

I quickly erased the thought of angelic faces hidden under black robes because I knew it was a dreadful sin to think about actual nuns with their legs up in the air and taking it from behind just like the girls in the back row. I kind of had a thing all through high school for Sister Veronica with her heart-shaped lips and wet red tongue that was sometimes visible when she was thinking about some problem difficult to access from certain angles. It was easy to imagine those succulent lips wrapped around my big boy and her eyes looking up with a submissive attitude to anything I wanted to do. Of course, it included the simple task of swallowing and showing me her empty mouth to prove her ability to let me reside deep inside her belly along with the remains of her dainty lunch. I had these terrible dreams about bending poor innocent Sister Veronica over an altar rail and showing her the fury of my desire to fill her virginal tank with my creamy white sticky stuff just the way I was giving it to my Gloria whenever I could get her alone and stationary for a few minutes of fun and the fireworks of a satisfactory happy ending for my sex-obsessed family jewels.