Authors: Clint Adams
Despite the gang’s rules for sex on demand, the servicing wasn’t always only one way for Matt and me. On the fifth night after the pine field, another phase in our training was introduced to us. I remember it was another warm night because after Matt and I had brushed our teeth, we had stripped off all of our clothes down to our underpants in order to get ourselves ready for bed. Without notice, a pair of upperclassmen appeared at our door and came into our room just before we were ready to climb under the covers.
“Since you two are now into grass, we thought we’ d start a couple of nightly rituals with you little guys,” the first one said.
“Yeah, so relax and go get on your beds,” the second one apparently didn’t want to waste any time.
In keeping with the way we had been trained, instantly Matt and I did as we were told and climbed onto our beds. As soon as we were settled, the bell signaling lights out went off. The upperclassmen turned off our lights and then one of them came over and sat down at the foot of my bed, while the other one sat down at the foot of Matt’s bed.
“Ok, let’s get this party started,” the one on my bed began. And with that he pulled out a joint and lit it. I watched him as he then drew the smoke into his lungs and passed the smoldering weed to me while he held his breath to keep the drug in his body for as long as he could. Immediately, I accepted the joint from him and took a hit from it myself, and then while I held my breath, I passed it over to Matt, who did the same.
For the next several minutes, then, the four of us sat there in the dark on our two beds and increased our highs. I really don’t remember any of us saying very much during those minutes. After all, lights out had been sounded and privileged few or not, silence and no lights were two of the rules at the Academy which were usually enforced.
When the joint was finished, it was time for these guys to launch their second nightly ritual for us. The guy on Matt’s bed turned and placed his opened hand on Matt’s bare chest. He then gave Matt a gentle push to indicate that he wanted my roommate to lie down on his bed. Matt obeyed. The guy then reached out and with both of his hands, pulled off my friend’s underpants which left Matt lying there naked now in front of us. Next the bigger kid repositioned himself so he was seated alongside of the youngster and then he took Matt’s limp penis into his fingers and began to twirl and stroke it so he could give the boy an erection.
As we watched Matt begin to feel the surges of stimulation shoot through his body, he remained quiet except for the sharp breaths we could all hear him begin to take. A few moments later, the guy had managed to work Matt’s penis into a full-fledged hard-on. Because we were roommates, Matt and I saw each other naked all the time. And just like showering in a locker room with your classmates every day after gym class, it was no big deal to either of us. But I remember thinking at that moment, how strange it looked to see his swollen penis sticking straight up and silhouetted against the moonlight which was coming in through the window next to him.
When he was confident that my friend’s erection was sturdy, the guy then leaned over and took Matt’s engorged penis into his mouth and began to go down on the boy. This time, there was no protest from my roommate. Immediately, the first guy and I could see how the upperclassman’s head bobbing was affecting my friend. In what seemed like only a few seconds, we could see Matt clutch his sheets with both fists while he tilted his head back and opened his mouth so he could breathe more rapidly. We then watched as his body tensed and his head became buried even deeper as he pushed it back harder into his pillow. As experienced practitioners of the art, the first guy and I were impressed by the excellent job this second guy was doing on Matt.
Perhaps a minute to a minute and a half later, the guy’s head was bobbing up and down faster than I had ever thought possible while Matt’s chest heaved uncontrollably and his spine arched to lift the small of his back up off of his mattress. And then it happened.
“Ahahahah!” Violently, Matt’s body jackknifed as he ejaculated hard. As we continued now to stare, it seemed to me as if the two halves of the boy’s body were going to stay elevated indefinitely. But finally Matt’s pumping ended and his head and legs fell, drained of their energy, back down until they crashed onto his sheets.
Immediately then, the guy stopped what he was doing to Matt and sat up again. “How was that, little guy?” he asked. It took a moment for Matt to recover enough to be able to speak. He was now completely out of breath. When he did answer, he said only one word.
“Wo!”
I then felt a large hand placed against my bare chest. I didn’t turn my head to look at him when I felt the guy gently push against me. I just lay down knowing that to do so was expected of me. Then, as soon as I was horizontal, I could feel two hands take hold of my underpants on either side of the elastic and then pull them down over my legs and off of my body so that, like Matt, I was naked now too.
“Sit up and watch,” the guy on the other bed said to Matt.
With my eyes still fixed on my roommate, I watched as he leaned up and propped himself on one elbow. He looked calm and rather peaceful now as his eyes met mine. And I remember thinking to myself that the marijuana and the sex had really had a powerful effect on him.
I was still looking at Matt when I felt fingers begin to handle me. I then saw Matt smile faintly at me as his gaze seemed to convey something like… “.. .hold onto your sheets, you’re gonna love this.” I then turned my head away from him so I could stare up at our ceiling there in the darkness. And as I felt myself beginning to be stimulated, I closed my eyes and decided that indeed I was going to make every effort to enjoy this!
* * *
So the continual on-demand pleasuring of our masters, the marijuana, and the nightly rituals, quickly became integral parts of our daily routine at the Academy. Still there was one more thing that the upperclassmen introduced to Matt and me during these first two weeks after the pine field, which further instilled in us the patterns of addictive behavior. Alcohol. They started us off by giving us beer and, like the marijuana, encouraged us to drink as much of it every day as we could. It took me a while to adjust to the taste, but like the pot, Matt dove into it just as quickly as it was given to him.
The high we got from alcohol was completely different from what we had become used to from pot. Our attempts to sustain it, though, always caused us to fall asleep. So we smoked during the day, and saved the beer for after lights out. Usually then, instead of a joint, the upperclassmen would give us beer and wait until we had a pretty good buzz going. Then they would make us lie down so we could receive our blow jobs. Afterwards, while they cleaned us up, the upperclassmen would continue to get Matt and me drunk, and this would go on until we’d pass out for the night. I guess after that the upperclassmen always left our room, because they were never there when we awoke the next day. The only negatives to this routine were the hangovers we wound up with in the mornings. But in time, we learned to adjust to those too.
The Saturday night after the pizza party—one week later—was an evening which saw our use of alcohol peak. To this day, I still can’t remember much of what happened to us that night. It began with a message from the leader saying that once the headmaster had departed the campus for the weekend, we were expected to be at his house again for another dinner and evening together with our gang. By this time, I guess, the upperclassmen had figured that we no longer needed to be escorted around everywhere. After all, where could we have gone?
Matt and I were already nicely stoned when we appeared at the head’s house on time. On this occasion, we found only six of them attending instead of the customary eight. Throughout the evening, we tried to find out why the other two were absent, but we could never get anyone to give us a straight answer to our inquiries. Dinner was burgers cooked on the headmaster’s grill outside in his backyard. By now we were having the kinds of lively conversations with these guys that kids our age normally had with their friends. So the party went along fine until they pulled out something new for us to try. Sometime after dinner, Matt and I were presented with our own fifths of cherry vodka, and told to enjoy them. My dad used to drink vodka on the rocks every so often and I remembered trying a sip of it once and thinking that the stuff tasted like lighter fluid. So the idea now of having to down a fifth of vodka in front of these jokers didn’t thrill me. But when I took my first sip, I found that the cherry flavor masked the alcohol taste enough to make this task seem possible to me after all. And Matt seemed to take to our eighty-proof dessert right away. So before long, Matt and I were sitting next to each other on the couch and slugging back our bottles of booze.
I don’t remember much more of what happened after that. A little while later, of course, Matt and I fell into stupors and subsequently lost touch with everything around us. From then on, instead of having memories of that night, I only have vague impressions of things the others did to us once we were incapable of refusing them.
I do know that we both had to be carried back to our room by several of the upperclassmen, and I remember that once I was lying on my bed again, my clothes were pulled off of my body—seemingly all at once. I also recall Matt and me being sat up on my bed and cradled in their arms like infants while we were fed more vodka from our fifths which the bigger kids handled like baby bottles. And I have faint recollections of choking as vodka spilled from someone’s attempts to pour more liquor into me than I could apparently consume.
And so, once again Matt and I had been subdued by our tormentors. The methods which these miscreants were employing to gain control over us were mounting. This time, though, the results for us had been the worst yet. In the past, whether they had used beatings or intimidation or marijuana or even beer to break down our defenses, Matt and I were always alert enough to know what was happening to us. On this night, all of that changed. The vodka they gave us dulled our brains to the point where we were no longer people. Instead we had become nothing more than warm, barely animate objects for them to play with and handle in any way they chose. And the scary thing about it all was that these guys could have been devil worshipers or ax murderers, and in our less than conscious conditions, we would never have been able to raise so much as an eyebrow if our lives had actually become threatened. As it was, I suppose, Matt and I were lucky that all these guys wanted from us was to commit sex acts with young boys.
The next morning, Matt and I woke up naked and together in my bed. Our heads and torsos were lying next to each other and our arms and legs were entangled. Cherry stains were all over our faces, chests and stomachs and also all over my sheets. And there was dried semen on our penises and lower abdomens. It took a little while, but when we were finally awake enough to understand our circumstances, Matt and I unsnarled ourselves so we could sit up.
“I think they laid us down side by side and then they gave us both hand jobs at the same time to see which one of us would spout off the highest,” Matt moaned as we both looked ourselves over.
“Who won?” I asked.
“I have no idea.” The pitch in Matt’s voice dropped with his last word which signaled to me that he wasn’t feeling much like saying anything else for the moment. As we then strained to get to our feet, we knew that despite the way we had found ourselves on this morning, we had both been made too utterly drunk the night before to have been able to initiate any sort of activity with each other—sexual or otherwise. But as I fought with my worst hangover yet to remove the ruined sheets from my bed and put on a clean set from our closet, we both understood that once again something for us had changed. Matt and I knew that we had no interest in each other in a sexual way. After all, we liked girls. In fact we tended to regard our odyssey together as a bad ride at an amusement park which we had just happened to step onto by mistake. We still had hope that any time now Mr. Stuart would conclude his investigation and then we could, in effect, jump off of this ride and have our lives back. But in spite of how we felt about each other, the direction in which the minds of our masters was now heading, and what that foretold to us about the sort of events which were likely coming up soon, made what we were in for next seem obvious.
For the rest of that Sunday, after we had taken turns washing the cherry stains, the semen and whatever else there was off of our bodies in the shower, Matt and I stayed pretty much on our beds as we struggled to reclaim ourselves from the night before. Around noon I decided that the time had come for me to begin a letter to my parents. Since we weren’t permitted to contact our families by phone, I figured that a slower means of communication would have to do. In the afternoon, both of us threw up—which helped a little—and by dinner time we were able to stagger over to the dining hall for a light meal. After that day, neither of us wanted to even look at a bottle of cherry vodka again. In fact, just recounting the experience now makes me feel ill. But no matter how much I’d like to forget about it today, the Saturday night which followed a week later ended up trumping our experiences with the cherry vodka, even though at the time we hadn’t believed such a thing could be possible.
* * *
For the next week, our lives fell into the routine that the upperclassmen had established for us. Every day they made sure we were well supplied with marijuana and as a result, Matt and I began to get into the habit of staying high throughout each day, even during the free time we had before breakfast. Our afternoon retreats to the leader’s room afforded us the opportunity to hone our skills in the practice of oral sex on demand by increasing our stamina and improving our technique. And every night, Matt and I eagerly awaited our turns to receive blow jobs from the masters themselves, as well as to become embalmed by the beer they poured into us to the point of passing out blissfully until the wake-up bell the next morning would drag us, bleary eyed and hung over, back to consciousness.