Boarding School (33 page)

All during study hall that evening, Matt and I discussed whether or not we should say something to Carlos and Juan about what we believed was in store for them later that night. After a lengthy debate, we concluded that foreknowledge of the events upcoming would do nothing to prevent the upperclassmen from getting their way. Just like Matt and me and all of the other first-year students for that matter, Carlos and Juan were trapped at the Academy with no place else to go. Also we knew that if we were to say something to our next-door neighbors beforehand, reprisals for our disobedience would soon follow. So even though it went against our instincts, we decided that saying nothing to our friends was, in the end, the only prudent way for us to handle the situation.

“Why do you suppose I am so tired tonight?” We heard Carlos ask Juan just before the ten o’clock bell went off as the two boys returned to their room together after using the bathroom.

“I have no idea, man. I guess you just are, that’s all.” Juan spoke perfect English. His father was actually an American who was working at that time for an oil company in Maracaibo. The man had married a Venezuelan woman and bilingual Juan had been the result of their union. Our friend preferred to be called Juan, but on his right wrist he always wore a small silver ID bracelet which was engraved with the name “Juan” on one side and “John” on the other.

At lights out we waited for two of the upperclassmen to appear to give us our nightly rituals. With the cocaine in our systems all the time now, both Matt and I felt as if we had been walking around all day with what is referred to in the vernacular as perpetual hard-on’s. And it surprised us when after some time had passed, nobody had come to our room. It may sound odd, but it felt strange to us to be lying there in our beds by ourselves. So as we continued to wait in vain in the darkness for anyone to show some interest in us, we soon grew tired and fell asleep, which marked this day as a milestone in our recent lives at the Academy. Because for the first time in weeks, Matt and I had gone through an entire day without being manhandled and made to ejaculate.

Later, at around ten minutes after two in the morning, I was awakened briefly by the sound of something—or someone—being slammed up against the wall which separated our room from the room of the Venezuelan boys. As I became conscious somewhat, I thought I could hear the sounds of kids shouting at each other. There seemed to me to be one high-pitched voice and two lower voices making all this racket. Next, I heard something like a vase or a drinking glass crash and break apart on the floor in that room. I figured that the Halloween masks probably carried a much different meaning for people from South America. And of course I thought for an instant about getting up and trying to do something to help, but my experience during the night they had taken Matt had taught me that there was nothing I could do to stop the upperclassmen from taking whomever they wanted to the gym shower. And so, as I listened to the two bigger kids drag the younger one out into the hallway and then leave noisily through the big wooden door at the western end of our floor, I rolled over and remained under my covers, like the concurred and controlled little coward I had become. And a few minutes later, as I imagined them tearing off Juan’s clothing and shoving him naked and blindfolded into the shower, I fell asleep grateful, at least, that I wasn’t the one who was having to go through this treatment on this night.

The next morning at breakfast, I looked over at the head proctor’s table to see if my guess about which of the two Venezuelan boys had spent the majority of his night being wet was right. Instantly I could see that it had indeed been Juan, which made sense to me. Juan, though a nice kid, always seemed to have a chip on his shoulder and an attitude which came across as someone who refused to be pushed around. This morning however, the black eye and the angry expression on his face confirmed to me that his will had been overwhelmed the night before. The rest of that day, like the one before it, was once again unremarkable for us. Matt did try at one point to talk with Juan, but our neighbor wasn’t having any of it and as far as we knew spoke to no one for the entire day.

“He’ll get over it,” I predicted when Matt and I talked about him later on. By the time we turned our lights out later that Tuesday night, Matt and I were both going out of our minds with sexual tension after we had endured two long days with cocaine raging in our bodies and no one coming around, apparently, to give us so much as a hand job to relieve our pressure. We realized that since we had completed the Academy’s training for thirteen-year-old boy prostitutes the interests of the upperclassmen were now on to other boys in our grade but just the same, it was hard for us to keep from feeling abandoned by our sex partners as we lay there in our beds that night.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna have to jerk off here in a minute before I go insane,” I said to my roommate after we had been lying in our beds for about ten minutes.

“I know what you mean,” Matt agreed. “I can’t stand it anymore, either.”

Since we seemed to be in agreement, I figured that any sounds or sharp breathing or sudden movements made in the darkness would now be overlooked by either of us as an urgently needed remedy for a problem which, under normal conditions, is profound for all teenaged boys. So since stealthy movements were now unnecessary, I shoved my hand noisily under my covers and prepared myself to get a firm grip on the situation.

“Wait,” Matt blurted out suddenly. “I’ve got a better idea.” He then threw his covers off of him and stood up on the floor.

“What?” I asked as I turned my head to look at my friend.

“Stand up,” Matt insisted.

“Why?” After all, I was warm and comfortable by now under my covers and I had just begun to give myself a happy ending to the day.

“Just stand up,” Matt urged.

I stopped what I was doing and sighed. “Ok,” I agreed. And then I pulled my covers off of me and stood up to face my friend. “Now what?”

“Now close your eyes.”

“Oh?” I couldn’t believe it, but in an instant I decided that this could be interesting.

“Yeah, close them. I’ve got an idea.”

“Ok,” I relented. And so I followed my friend’s instructions and I closed my eyes.

Matt then reached over and laid the picture of him with his parents face down on the top of our dresser, and then he took hold of my T-shirt from around my waist and pulled the garment up and over my head until it was off of me completely. “Keep ’em closed,” he warned.

“I will,” I promised.

When the T-shirt had come off, it had messed up my hair. A moment later I could feel Matt’s small hands smoothing out and arranging my hair to put it back into place. As I remained still, I then felt his hands begin to lightly feel their way down onto my shoulders and then continue on down farther to my chest and finally they made their way onto my stomach. As he did this, he made sure to move his fingers very slowly along my skin. I stood there as he did these things to me and tried to put myself into the right frame of mind. A moment later, I was surprised to discover that I was suddenly finding this experience to be incredibly erotic. So by the time his fingers found their way into the elastic of my underpants, my penis was already becoming swollen from the anticipation he was creating in me.

Matt saw my bulge and commented. “So is this ok?”

“Oh yeah!” I breathed.

Next Matt knelt down in front of me and slowly peeled down my underpants until they were left to rest around my ankles. When he saw that I was nearly erect already, he put out his tongue and swirled it around my crown. Like a good mechanic, he knew how to use the right tool for the job.

“Uuh!” I reacted. It was obvious to me now that Matt knew what he was doing with me.

An instant later, Matt took my entire penis into his mouth and then he began to work me.

“Hhhh!” I exhaled. The sexual sensations began to shoot through my body. Matt then placed his palms onto my buttocks and began to squeeze each cheek as he clamped down harder on me with his lips. And as I felt Matt begin to create a suction in his mouth around my penis, I opened my eyes and looked down at his hairy head so I could watch it as it moved in and out on me with increasing vigor. Then his stimulation became too much for me and I threw back my own head and felt my body stiffen.

“Uugh! Hhhh! Hhhh!” At this rate, he was going to have me ejaculating in no time.

Then he stopped and removed his mouth from around my penis. “Ok now, go lay down.”

Silently, I stepped out of my underpants and moved backwards so I could do as my roommate had commanded. A moment later I was flat on my back in my bed again and watching as Matt’s face hovered over my groin area once he had climbed up onto my bed with me.

“Are ya ready?” he asked.

“Oh yeah!” I gasped.

Matt’s head then sank as his mouth enveloped my penis and resumed its stroking with his rigid lips. The friction and the suction quickly transported me off to another world.
Ah, go Matt!
I thought to myself. He had learned from the best and there was no doubt in my mind now that he was no longer an amateur. And for that matter, neither was I. Because a few minutes later, after Matt had taken me through a hard ejaculation, I stood up again and had my roommate shut his eyes while I pulled off his clothing and prepared myself to do the same for him.

Finally the dreaded day came for Matt and me to be turned out. On Wednesday afternoon after lunch, we climbed into the van with the other kids who were going into town that day, for our first trip into Ulster since the whole process to convert us into the drug-addicted, sex-crazed boys we now were, had begun. Once we were in town and had pulled into the parking lot at the Duncan Donuts, Matt and I remained in our seats while everyone else in the van got out. As we sat there with Artist sitting in the seat behind us, we watched as our friends began to disperse to more exotic destinations like the record shop or one of the pizzerias in town.

“Hey, aren’t you guys comin’ too?” Frank asked when he noticed that Matt and I were still sitting in the van.

“Ah…” I said as I tried to think up a quick explanation for why we were breaking with the standard practice.

“I agreed to drop them over on the other side of town at the Grants Department Store,” Mr. Foot said quickly. “Now close the doors, will ya?”

Apparently satisfied with our teacher’s explanation, Frank shrugged and then reached out and slammed the two doors shut on the side of the van. For an instant after that, he looked at me with an expression which seemed to convey a sense of confusion and disappointment, and then Frank took a step backwards while Mr. Foot threw the transmission into drive again and drove us back out onto Main Street and away.

A few minutes later, Mr. Foot maneuvered the van onto the grounds of the business which we were about to become intimately familiar with. He said nothing until he had taken us around the drive and up to the front door, and then he stopped the vehicle to let the three of us out. “Ok, you guys. Everybody out now.”

“The Friendly Inn? Are you kidding me? They’re gonna let us do our stuff here?” Matt expressed the amazement we both felt. We had thought that we were going to be stuck away in some seedy little house or something off Main Street in downtown Ulster. We had no idea that we were going to be offered up to anyone who was willing to pay for thirty minutes with us in a place as out in the open as this.

“This is the biggest motel in the area. It’s right off 193 and next to the lake!” I announced. “And customers are gonna come here to see us?”

“Yeah well, we want people to be able to find you, you know,” Artist explained.

“Let’s go, out!” Mr. Foot apparently didn’t want anyone to see him dropping kids off at a motel.

And so Matt and I climbed out of the van and prepared ourselves to report for our first day of work. As soon as Artist was standing on the pavement with us, the three of us then walked in through the single wide automatic front door and on into the main lobby as the van roared away. This was the first time, by the way, that I noticed the strange briefcase that Artist had brought along with him.

“Are you boys from the Academy?” An older woman of indeterminate age and horn-rimmed glasses asked as she handed us three room keys from behind the front desk. “You’ll have to wait a couple of minutes. The maids are just finishing up with those rooms right now.”

“Ok, thank you,” Artist replied as he took the keys and slipped them quickly into his pocket. Then he turned around and guided us away from the view of the half dozen or so people who were sitting around the lobby and watching every move we were making—or so it seemed to me. “We’ll go wait in the pool room. It’s usually empty around this time of the day.”

Is the whole town in on this?
I wondered as we made our way to the motel’s indoor swimming pool.

“We’ll be fine for a few minutes in here,” Artist proclaimed once we had gone through the glass and metal door and had entered the pool area.

“How in the world did the Academy arrange for us to be here?” I probably shouldn’t have asked this question, but I was still so shocked by the thought that the acts we were about to perform were going to be so public.

“Oh well, some years ago your new friend in Boston made the arrangements with the owner or the manager or someone like that here. So ever since, we’ve been bringing the first-year kids we’ve trained, over here to work. You know, it’s a nice clean place and the guy here who set everything up for us takes a piece of your action for his trouble.”

“And what about that woman behind the front desk?” Matt asked. “Does she get a piece of our action too?”

“Well sort of,” Artist replied. “She probably gets a hundred dollars a week or something like that slipped to her under the table for assigning our rooms and giving us our keys and helping us out in other ways.

“Oh, man!” Matt replied in amazement.

There wasn’t much more for us to talk about after that, so Matt and I began to look around to see what kind of pool facilities this place had to offer. The water looked inviting and there was a doorway leading to a couple of locker rooms just beyond the diving board at the opposite end from where we had come in. “Wait a minute!” I couldn’t believe what I was now seeing.