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Authors: Clint Adams

Boarding School (45 page)

BOOK: Boarding School
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“Ah…Mmh…Mmh…Ohhh…Hahh…Ah…Ah…Mmmh…“With his head now tilted back so that his hair was pressing against the chest hair of our host, my friend looked to me as if there was no place else in the world at this moment that he’d prefer to be.

“Ah… Mmh… Mmh… Ohhh… Hahh… Ah… Ah… Mmmh…” Matt’s body began then to tense as the hand movements of the man who was standing right behind him took my friend farther along the path to an exquisite ejaculation.

Then Bob pulled his hand away suddenly and placed it on Matt’s right hip. “Ok now, lean forward and put your hands on the table,” and then Bob pushed on Matt’s back with his left hand to force the kid’s upper body to bend over.

Automatically, Matt pulled his arms up just in time to place his hands along the edge of the table so he could brace himself against falling any farther. “Huh?” he replied in confusion.

With his right hand free again, Bob then took another scoop of Vaseline from the open jar that was still sitting in front of him on the end table, slathered the jell over his own erection—which he had obtained from rubbing himself against the skin on Matt’s lower back—found Matt’s hole and then without stopping halfway to give the kid a chance to get used to it, rammed his horse-sized erection into my friend’s anus.

“Auhauhahu!” Matt screamed out in pain. It had all happened so quickly, he hadn’t the time he had needed to prepare himself.

“Now stand upright again,” the man ordered.

After gasping a couple of times, Matt pushed off from the table and gingerly raised the upper half of his body until he was nearly vertical. “That’s as far as I can go!” he proclaimed in a voice that was anything now but relaxed.

“That’ll be fine,” Bob confirmed. The man then wrapped his right fist around Matt’s erection again and with his left hand now on Matt’s left hip, our host began to stroke my friend in concert with every thrust he made with his penis into the boy’s anal canal.

“Auh! Auh! Auh! Auh! Auh!” It was astonishing to watch. Each satisfying stroke that my roommate could feel being made on his penis occurred at the precise instant he felt agony from the huge cock that was being shoved up his ass. The rest of his body was simply left to struggle between these two forces. The combined expressions of extreme pain coupled with extreme pleasure, all being displayed on Matt’s face at the same time, was another one of his looks which has stayed with me for all of these years since. It was like watching someone in anguish, only with a half smile and hundreds of times more intense.

“Auh! Auh! Auh! Auh!” Everything about Matt’s being now seemed in limbo. It was as if the pain and the pleasure were cancelling each other out and his body had no idea what it was supposed to do next. This state of non-motion with the incredible expression on his face, went on for Matt for several minutes until finally the pleasure component of this spectacle stepped forward and took over his body once again.

To move things along a bit faster, Bob next removed his left hand from Matt’s hip and lifted it to take a large hunk of the boy’s black hair into his fist so he could pull back hard on it and create an arch in the youngster’s back. “Hhah!” Matt let out a loud gasp.

The change in Matt’s position affected my friend in the way in which Bob had intended because soon after that, when Bob could feel Matt’s penis beginning to throb, he didn’t dislodge himself from my friend’s rear end, but as he released Matt’s hair from his grip he did suspend his thrusting for a moment so he could give the boy one last hard stroke with his hand and then he squeezed Matt’s penis tightly within his fist.

In response, Matt’s upper body jerked and lurched forward sharply as his semen spurted out and fell into the man’s shag carpet. And then, when his pumping had ended and my friend was emptied out, the natural relaxation of the muscles which follows a sexual climax, aided by his drunken condition of course, caused Matt to allow his upper body to just hang bent over while his arms and his head hung limp as well.

Immediately Bob planted his hands on Matt’s hips again and began to thrust wildly into the boy, causing Matt’s newly pliable upper section to jerk and fly around in the air continually without the ability, apparently, to stop itself. Although he was standing solidly on his feet, it seemed now as if Matt had lost the will, or perhaps the strength, to control himself. Hair all over his head rippled and flew up every time the upper half of his body was sent by Bob’s thrusting to sail past me in another direction. Each thrust of Bob’s cock sent Matt’s torso, chest and head careening off a different way until finally Matt came to rest once more in the same bent-over position, with his arms and his head hanging down, that he had been in when this whole crazy dance had begun. Then, while my friend’s body was silent once again, Bob threw back his head and ejaculated into the boy.

“Auhhhhhhhh! Yeah!” The man yelled out as if he had just won some huge battle. And then he pulled himself out of Matt’s ass and with his right hand shoved my friend over onto the floor to land on his side and to slam the back of his head against one of the legs of the coffee table.

“All right!” Bob yelled as he threw his arms up into the air in victory.

“Oww!” Matt cried out from the pain he now felt in his head.

Instantly I was off of the couch and on my knees next to my roommate. “Joe told you no damage, damn it!” I yelled at our host. And then I looked at Matt. “Are you all right?” I asked nervously.

“Yeah,” Matt began to use his hand to rub the back of his head. “I guess so.”

“Are you sure?” I wanted to be certain.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” my friend said as he sat up on the floor in front of me.

I then stood up and looked at the man. “I’m gonna call Joe right now. He said no damage and you just hurt one of us.”

“No, don’t do that,” Bob pleaded. “I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t realized that I had pushed him so hard.” Then Bob bent over and looked at Matt. “Are you ok, son? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. “Then Bob looked at me again. “Here, help me get him on his feet again.”

What a wimp,
I thought as I bent down to take hold of one of Matt’s arms.
This guy’s really a pussy cat.
Together then, we helped my friend to stand on his own once again.

“Are you ok?” The man truly seemed concerned now for Matt’s well-being.

“Yeah, it’s just a little bump. I’ll be all right, I guess.”

“And what did you think about our little session just now? Wasn’t that something?”

Matt then looked at me and smiled. “You know, I think I really did like it, Clint.” Then Matt looked back at Bob again. “I mean you were a little harsh when you first shoved your dick up my ass, but after that it felt pretty good.”

“Really?” I was pleased to hear that my friend was all right. “Well it sure looked wild.”

“Why don’t you boys have your pizzas now, and then maybe later I can do the same for you. Ok?” the man said as he looked at me.

“All right,” I agreed.

“Good.” Bob now seemed relieved. “Ok then, you two sit back down on the couch and I’ll bring everything out to you. Ok?”

“Ok,” Matt answered this time.

So as Matt and I settled on the couch in front of the man’s TV once more, Bob walked into the kitchen and reappeared in a moment with some vodka for us both. “Here, why don’t you both have some of this so you don’t lose the buzz you’ve got gong. Ok?”

Matt and I accepted the man’s hospitality. So we ate our pizzas and continued to imbibe throughout the evening as we all watched TV together in the nude. And when I felt that my drunkenness was at its peak, I told Bob that I was ready if he was. Shortly after that I was leaning backward against this man and enjoying the benefits of his manual skills, and when the time came, I did find it easier to permit myself to be flopped around in the same way that Matt had done than it would have been for me to expend the last little bit of energy I had at that moment to hold onto the edge of the end table. And when it was over, I decided that I had enjoyed the experience, tremendously. So that after our weekend in Providence was over, the things we had learned from this man were things we repeated with each other every so often on those occasions when Matt and I were able to have time to ourselves.

* * *

Eventually, the gray frozen days of our winter in Massachusetts turned into gray warmer days of spring. And the snow mobiles on the lawn gave way to the two boats tied once again to the dock every day, and Matt and I had had it. We had had it with the customers at the Friendly Inn, we had had it with the upperclassmen, we had had it with the faculty, and we had had it with each other. The combination of being cooped up indoors for a long winter and our long-term dependency on cocaine had made us irritable to the point where the slightest annoyance would set us off. Even things which normally would never bother us now seemed impossible for either of us to cope with.

We continued to attend our classes in the mornings—only because we knew we’d get in trouble if we didn’t—but we gave up entirely on expending any energy to study. And Matt and I had reached a stage in our relationship where we seemed to bicker with each other all the time. In fact, on several occasions our arguments became so heated, we would have jumped at the chance to move out and cease living together if we had believed that such an opportunity could have existed for us. And the discord from the room next door to ours in East Hall had become equally as intense. The final straw had come one afternoon when Juan had been beaten up by a customer of his who had carried on like a prize fighter. Carlos told us afterwards that he could hear his roommate taking the blows in the room next door at the Inn, but he had been too frightened to intervene until after the customer had left. When Carlos did finally venture into the adjoining room, he found Juan lying on the floor naked and nearly knocked out. After that, Juan seldom spoke to Carlos other than to yell at him in anger from time to time.

Fatso’s need for increasing volumes of money now seemed insatiable to us. The year before, he had been easygoing and almost carefree whenever we were around him, but nowadays he looked haggard and always worried about things. And Sweetie wasn’t doing any better. In fact, everybody around us now seemed overly tense. Ever since the fire, Mr. Stuart was more pensive and worried than he usually was, and the upperclassmen pretty much ended their efforts to find reasons to gather and have fun at our expense. Also, to satisfy the ever growing demand for our services as well as to help Fatso with his cash flow problems, we began to have our dinners brought to us by room service on the days we worked at the Inn, so we could continue on with our labors for another three hours or so into the night until we would be returned to the Academy in time for lights out. And frankly, it made little difference now whether we observed study hall or not since we weren’t doing anything during those hours any longer besides lying on our beds or arguing with each other. To explain our long absences from the campus to the rest of the student body, the cover story was given that we were taking accelerated courses in foreign languages in town somewhere, and working out in a nearby swimming pool so the Academy could comply with new parental demands which had been made on our behalf. In this way Mr. Stuart had hoped to satisfy any pockets of curiosity which might have been aimed in our direction. And because of our increase in hours over at the inn, we were now allowed half-hour breaks before dinner every afternoon to swim unmolested in the inn’s swimming pool. Even so, before long they were making us work seven days a week and at that pace, it didn’t take any time at all before Matt and I came to believe that any day soon our bodies and our spirits would simply give out and it would be impossible after that for us to continue to perform for our masters.

As I’ve looked back on these events over the years since, I have come to understand that the pressure everyone was under during this spring was a result of the fact that Fatso had overextended himself to a significant degree with his suppliers from South America. From bits of information I was able to put together later, these troubles with his suppliers were just part of greater financial problems he was having with his entire operation. And of course, all of us at the Academy who were involved with him were being pushed without mercy to help the man make up for his financial shortfalls. So this schedule of nonstop work went on for us until one night when we were back in our dorm, long after lights out, and Matt and I had sneaked over into the room next door because Juan had told us earlier that evening that he had a way for us to end this craziness.

“All right, listen,” the boy began while he hugged himself as he sat on his bed. His ribs were still bruised and bothering him from the beating he had taken a few weeks earlier. “You know how at the front desk they keep the phones turned off so we can only call each other in the hotel and not anyone on the outside?”

The rest of us acknowledged that we were familiar with the practice.

“Well, I’ve been checking the phones every day when we get there anyway, and I’ve found that sometimes they forget and leave the phone turned on from the person who had the room before me.”

“You’re kidding?” Matt was surprised by this news.

“Right, Matt. He had us come to his room in the middle of the night so he could pull our legs.” This peevish response of mine was typical of the way my roommate and I were behaving toward each other these days.

“I was just reacting to what he said, asshole. You don’t have to get all bent out of shape over it.” Though Matt was still a timid kid when anyone challenged him physically, verbally he had developed the ability to match barbs with practically anyone.

“Yeah well,” Juan wanted to keep going with the point he was trying to make. “Anyway, I figure sooner or later it’s gonna happen again. So from now on, each of us has to check the phone in his room to see if we can get an outside line. And the first one who finds he can call out, needs to call the police to have them come and raid the inn.”

“Wo, hold on a minute,” Carlos seemed alarmed at Juan’s plan. “If we do that and they find out that we were the ones who made the call, the bigger kids will punish us. They might even stop giving us our cocaine and I don’t think I can live anymore without that stuff.”

BOOK: Boarding School
12.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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