Authors: Clint Adams
The man then backed himself up until his shoulders were pressed up against the front wall. Then I watched him reach up behind him and adjust the angle f his shower head so that the water would flow down directly onto him, and then he reached out, took my friend into his arms, and quietly drew Matt to him so my roommate’s front could lean against his own front. Once their bodies were pressed together in this fashion, the two of them simply stood there with their eyes closed and their arms wrapped around each other in blissful silence while the water poured down all over both of their bodies.
“Ahhhhh!” Matt then sighed also, which surprised me a bit to hear. Our pity for this man notwithstanding, as a rule Matt and I tried never to let ourselves become emotionally affected by our customers. But the two of them hugging the way they now were, seemed to give each of them a chance to finally let go of a great deal of disappointment they were both so clearly carrying around with them. And when my friend was finally relaxed enough to be pliable, and the man could move the boy’s body around like a limp piece of spaghetti, our host then poured some shampoo into Matt’s hair and began to wash it for him. Soon, as the lather grew, and the suds began to drop down onto Matt’s shoulders and back to drain away eventually between the two cheeks of his buttocks, Matt continued to keep his eyes closed and his body resting against the man whom he still had his arms around.
“Now start kissing your way down my skin until you reach my dick and then blow me,” the man ordered softly.
Never before had Matt or I ever kissed any of our customers. We and the upperclassmen considered kissing a part of love and we weren’t there to love our customer. But I watched with some further surprise as, reluctantly at first and without bothering to rinse the suds from his hair, Matt turned his face inward toward the man and began to gently kiss his stomach. Quietly then Matt’s body slowly sank as he continued to kiss his way down along our host’s hairy abdomen until finally my friend was resting on the tiled floor on his knees. Then, without being asked, Matt opened his mouth and took the man’ s erection in between his lips and then he began to bob his head in and out as he went all out to give our customer the service he had paid so handsomely to the Academy to receive.
The next morning after we were up, our host took us out for brunch to a little sidewalk cafe on Third Avenue. He had us order Virgin Mary’s and when the wait staff wasn’t looking, he pulled out of his jacket pocket two small bottles of vodka he had apparently gotten from a recent airline flight and poured their contents into our drinks for us.
“There,” he proclaimed proudly. “Try those.”
Matt and I each drank our Bloody Mary’s and like them immensely. And it pleased us a great deal when he ordered us another round and then managed to produce two more little bottles of vodka for our drinks.
After our meal we returned to the man’s apartment and stripped off our clothes once more for another shower. When we were all soaked down again, our host had us repeat the performance we had done on him the night before, only this time when the washing was over, it was Matt’s turn to sit down while I was the one who got pulled to him until the fronts of our bodies became pressed together as if we were one.
At first I felt uncomfortable having to hug a man whom I barely knew in such an intimate way. But something about the way he held my head against his chest and the feel of the warm water as it rushed over us both caused the tension I had in my muscles to just give way. So before long my body had become as peaceful and supple as my roommate’s had the night before. And as I felt his confident hands swirl my wet hair around within the shampoo lather and as I noticed his sturdy fingers massage away the months of stress which had accumulated within my scalp, I couldn’t help but lean against him and enjoy the experience he was giving me.
“Ok, now start kissing your way down my body, and then blow me,” the man ordered in a voice which was still barely audible. And without hesitating or thinking about the suds that were still in my hair and draping over my ears, I turned my face slowly into his body and began to do as he had asked. So that once I was on my knees in front of him, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue first so I could swirl it around his crown. An instant later, I took his erection into my mouth and gave to this man the best blow job I could muster.
* * *
Dinner at the Academy on the following Tuesday night was held a half hour earlier, so the entire student body would have the time needed to board the two chartered busses—which had shown up during our meal and were waiting for everyone out on the front drive—and make it down to Providence in time to see a play put on by the Trinity Square Repertory Theater Company. I liked stage productions and getting to see two in one week was a real treat for me. In all, I believe, the Academy had arranged for us to attend six plays in Providence throughout that year and today I am only able to remember one of them, which was entitled
Helter Skelter.
I remember this particular play still because the whole thing made no sense to me. I suspect the reason for my confusion that night had to do with the song by the same name which a three-piece rock band in the production kept playing on occasion to punctuate whatever drama the playwright had been trying to portray. I could never figure out what the heck those guys thought they were playing, because what they kept blasting out at the audience bore no real resemblance to the original work done by the Beatles.
I don’t recall ever seeing Mr. Stuart or any of the other offending members of the faculty with us on these trips. But with the school vacated for a number of hours, it seemed reasonable to me to suspect that the freedom these guys suddenly had was used for snooping through our rooms.
The next afternoon, when Matt and I were taken to the inn, Carlos and Juan were made to come along with us. The day had come, apparently, for our friends to be turned out as well. At some point during their night in the mud, they had been informed of our status with the gang, and so by now we had been granted permission, finally, to speak with our next-door neighbors and do what we could to help them cope with their new lives. Besides getting their own adjoining rooms in another part of the motel, Carlos and Juan also got their own upperclassman to come along and manage their fees and schedules for them. And later that night, when the four of us were back on our floor in the dormitory, we learned that despite the fact that they had been serving a completely different clientele from the one that we knew, they too had done a steady business that day. In fact, I wondered at the time how it was that so many people seemed to know all of a sudden that our Venezuelan friends were now on the job.
During the weeks that followed, our foreign friends fell into the same routine that Matt and I were now used to. On the weekends, though, their duties were similar to what we were doing, but with a twist. Every Saturday afternoon Carlos and Juan were driven up to Logan Field—usually by Joe—so they could get on board Fatso’s private jet and be flown to a spot along the Gulf of Mexico—usually Florida. Apparently then the boys’ unique services were offered up to Fatso’s Spanish-speaking associates as partial payment for the cocaine they would bring into the country for him from South America. According to what the two of them would tell us upon their return to our dorm every Sunday night, the machismo in Fatso’s associates always kept the boys accepting it in their asses throughout the night. It was only because the boys were always made so utterly drunk by these men, that it was possible for them to sustain themselves at all during these night-long sessions. And besides being sex objects, Carlos and Juan were also used as mules for Fatso’s deliveries. At night, while some of these South American associates were having their way with the boys, other men would pack the latest shipment of cocaine into our friends’ over-night bags. So then after the jet had flown them home the next day, Carlos and Juan would first be taken to a warehouse someplace in downtown Boston for offloading of Fatso’s merchandise before they would be driven back to the Academy.
So at long last Matt and I understood what this whole business we were now so deeply involved in was all about. Thanks to the services which we four boys were being forced to provide, Fatso had been able to build for himself a drug business which was like no other. His ingenious approach was to sell sex with his cocaine, only the sex he was selling wasn’t with ordinary prostitutes. The sex he was selling was with us.
By this time in our real-world education, we had learned that boys were considered a rare and highly prized commodity in the sex trade, and Fatso was using us to entice both his customers and his suppliers to do business with him. We had become integral tools to his livelihood.
To be sure, Fatso’s business plan had already been implemented long before the time that Matt and I had appeared on the scene, but according to what the others were telling us, we were outperforming by volume every last one of our predecessors. And this particular year marked the first time that Fatso had extended his operations to provide sex to his supply chain. So by putting both of our ends to work for the cause, so to speak, we were insuring that both ends of his business were well taken care of. And like all good businessmen, Fatso had made certain that his customers and his lines of supply would always be maintained by the arrangements he had made with the Academy for a steady stream of young boys. He was making bundles of money off of us, and the Academy was in for a solid share.
So now, besides being drug addicts and boy prostitutes, we were part of an international drug trafficking and distribution business. And apparently business was booming because as the weeks went by, it became very clear to us that the volume of customers we were taking care of was growing. The very idea that we could be mixed up in this type of an enterprise was an overwhelming concept for us to grasp.
“Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.” Matt tried to reconcile himself to our fate one afternoon. After all, what else could he say.
“Ya mean, in for an ounce, in for the whole bag?” I asked trying to make a joke about the cocaine end of Fatso’s business.
“Whatever.” He didn’t think my joke had been particularly funny. In fact, there really wasn’t much of anything that autumn to break up the tedium of our routine until the end of October.
The next time we all got together socially as a gang was the night of Halloween. This occasion, as one might imagine, was a special holiday for the upperclassmen. I actually had hopes on this night of being given the chance to 20 out into the two small neighborhoods around the Academy to do some trick-or-treating. The idea I had was that an outing like this would give us an opportunity to become introduced to some of the neighbors, and then we could assess which ones might be willing to help us if we decided later to run from the Academy. But as things worked out, we were restricted, as usual, to staying on the campus.
And so when Matt and I arrived at the headmaster’s house after dark that night and found the festivities well under way, we too were concealed by masks. We had been “urged” to buy them in town during one of our recent trips to the motel. And once we had made our selections, we were told to hang onto our masks always and to never lose them. To the upperclassmen, it seemed, owning a Halloween mask was a sort of final rite of passage into their world. Now that Matt and I had our own masks, we truly were full members of this group and thoroughly prepared for the next school year when we would be participating in their late-night raids into the dorm rooms of the next crop of unsuspecting and innocent first-year boys to harvest new members for the gang.
“Here they are!” a very drunken leader announced as we appeared in the living room. “Somebody give them their party favors.”
Instantly after that, fifths of some sort of bourbon were thrust into our hands. “We gotta start drinking now?” Matt asked.
“Yup!” the leader blurted out. “Start drinkin’.”
Apparently we were behind everyone else on their journey to inebriation, and the upperclassmen were eager to see us catch up. As I unscrewed the cap from my bottle and looked around the room, I could see that everyone there had a fifth of one thing or another in their hands. So submissively Matt and I began to mingle around the room and in a moment, we had caught up with Carlos and Juan. A quick inspection of our friends told us that they were already too far gone for useful conversation.
“Hiya, Clint! Hi ya, Matt! I sure hate the shit they make us do around here, but the fringe benefits are great! Don’t you think so?” As he slurred his words, Juan tried to express to us his obvious approval for the way the bourbon was making him feel.
“Are you ok, Carlos?” Matt asked our other neighbor. Carlos just stared at nothing for a little while with a silly sort of a grin on his face and then, in a delayed reaction to Matt’s question, he flinched and turned his head with a bobbing motion to look at my roommate. “I’m fine,” he answered in an obviously impaired state. And then he continued to smile as he resumed his staring. It was clear to us both, then, that our Venezuelan friends were just as drunk as everyone else in the room.
“Come on you two, drink up! We’ve got plans for the four of you guys tonight,” the head waiter revealed. From the way he was acting, we could tell that he was what I had often heard people refer to as a sloppy drunk.
Full members of this group or not, as we began to drink from our fifths we understood that until there were new first-year boys to replace us, the four of us were destined to be the entertainment for these gatherings. So a little while later, when it was obvious to the others that Matt and I had downed enough bourbon to become nearly incoherent, the bigger kids then decided that the time had come for us to begin the real festivities.
“Ok, everybody outside in the back yard,” the leader announced. A moment later we had all gathered on the lawn around a kiddy wading pool which had been filled earlier in the evening with cold water and apples. “Ok, now. You little guys start bobbin’ for the apples. Huh? Ha, ha, ha?” the leader then broke out into laughter.