The Boy Can't Help It

by Gavin Atlas

  I fell silent. Mr. Gentry was always so sweet. I couldn’t believe he’d let Mr. Worth do something so underhanded.

  “Will you come with me to ask for my money?” I put my hand on his. It was the first time I touched him.

  “I’m not sure I want you to take the money,” he said, “but a solution will present itself soon.” At that moment, my collar started beeping.

  “I guess I’m due for my next top,” I said. “Will I see you later?”

  Mr. Dawson didn’t say anything. He just gave me a smoldering gaze.

  “Mr. Dawson?”

  “What I really want to do is lay you down in the rain and run my hands all over your slick body before I make love to you.”

  I swallowed hard. “I could be a little late for my next couple appointments…”

  He shook his head, and his eyes refocused as if waking from a dream. “No, no. You go ahead.”

  Accustomed to being soaked in afternoon rain, I returned to the main house.

  “The guests heard about Mr. Conkran’s rape scene,” said Mr. Worth while massaging my cock and balls. “They want something that can top that.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t imagine what—”

  “A kidnapping and gangbang by some of our workers dressed as South Pacific natives.”

  “My contract doesn’t say anything about gangbangs, does it?”

  Mr. Worth smirked. “It doesn’t rule them out. Now do as you’re told.”

  Just after sunset I busied myself taking plates from the guests’ dinner to an outdoor kitchen when four men in fake war paint and makeshift attempts at skirts woven from palm fronds barged through the trees and hollered in some language, perhaps Samoan. They grabbed me by the ass and balls. Then the biggest of them threw me over his shoulder while they whooped and shouted in victory. Right away I had a thick erection.

  They carried me about two hundred yards to a bonfire, then bent me over a large rock, spreading my legs wide. As they gently pressed my chin to the cool stone, three more men in the same costumes approached with a hemp rope and tied me to the boulder. My head reeled. How many men were going to be inside me? The fear of not being able to take all I would be given began to gnaw at my lust. And soon they would have to surpass this act! What could possibly be next?

  Guests, Mr. Worth, and more workers hurried through the thickets of palms with torches, arriving just in time to see the first “native” thrust deep into me. From the first stroke he pushed inside me to the hilt, and I couldn’t help but throw my head back and moan.

  Bright, near-blinding white lights erupted, then approached. “What the hell?” yelled Mr. Worth. “Who is that?”

  Soon we could see a group of armed troops led by Mr. Dawson.

  “Due to unlawful activities committed on this island, a territory of the United States, the U.S. Navy has been authorized to shut down operations and remove all personnel.” Mr. Dawson’s voice sounded even deeper through a loudspeaker. “Comply with our orders or we will use force.”

  “Comply?” Mr. Worth bellowed. “This is my island! I own it!”

  Mr. Dawson was close enough that he no longer needed the bullhorn. “You may own it, but it’s still subject to U.S. jurisdiction, and you’re being charged with racketeering and prostitution among other things. Prostitution or slavery, that is.”

  It began to dawn on the guests that this wasn’t an act for their amusement. Panicked chatter broke out, and many of the workers ran off. They wouldn’t get far.

  “This is my own country!” Mr. Worth whined as two of the soldiers escorted him toward the main house. Mr. Dawson untied me and gave me a robe to wear while Navy men rounded up the workers and guests. Clothing covered my body for the first time in weeks.

  There was not enough room for everyone in the main house. They put me and Mr. Gentry in Mr. Dawson’s bungalow. They wanted to question him separately from Mr. Worth.

  “I might as well tell it all,” said Mr. Gentry. “Coulter, I’m so ashamed of what we’ve done to you.”

  “You’ve been nice to me,” I said, patting his arm. “Don’t worry.”

  He shook his head. “We paid off a lab tech to find steroids in your urine.”

  “Worth and Gentry run the escort service that hired you at the university.” Mr. Dawson’s expression revealed his full fury.

  Mr. Gentry held his face in his hands. “We made sure you got caught, Coulter. A friend of yours informed us of how submissive you are and that you’d be a likely candidate. We paid him to mislead you and talk you into being an escort. We even paid off the cops to arrest you and made sure Robbins University knew about it. We did all we could so you would have no choice but be our nude slave.”

  I was speechless. After a few more minutes of questioning, they led Mr. Gentry away in handcuffs. After a few hours of Navy men coming and going, things settled down. Mr. Dawson told them he needed to talk to me alone.

  “It took me a while to figure out what they were doing,” Mr. Dawson said. “But there had been reports from other men who had left here. And when I saw how they treated you, I knew I had to call for support. They could do this and worse to other young men.” Mr. Dawson reached for my chin and gave me a sad look. “Are you angry that I radioed for the Navy?”

  “I’m angry that they tricked me so many times. Will I have to go to jail?”

  “No, but you’ll have to give evidence against Worth and Gentry and explain how they exploited you.”

  I nodded. “I know they did, but this really was a sex paradise. A part of me is going to miss it.”

  “I’m leaving the military next month. So I can make sure you’re in sex paradise every time I’m around,” he said. “Now that no one decides who gets to fuck you except you, would you want me to?”

  “I-I…oh, God, absolutely.”

  Mr. Dawson locked the door to his bungalow and lowered the shades. Then he pulled my robe off and pressed me down to the floor. He kissed me so deeply, I nearly ran out of breath.

  “The only bottom for a thousand miles,” Mr. Dawson whispered as he began to strip, “and he’s all mine.”

  Blue Star Boy

  Taking the summer off before graduate school to do a sex tour of America turned out to be my best idea ever. After screwing an airline pilot, a gymnast, and a biker who rode one of those crotch-rocket Ninjas, my next target was a surfer. Oddly, the hunt brought me to Texas. I’d been told online gossip about a boy named Adriano who surfed Matagorda Bay during the week and gave up his gorgeous ass to different guys right there on the beach after sunset. From the photos I’d seen on a certain website, I absolutely wanted to be inside him. Correction: I needed to be.

  I stood on a small scrubby dune overlooking the water. It was Wednesday, and I’d been told he usually was the only one out on a weekday morning. It had taken me a couple days to find the deserted beach he was said to frequent. Now I watched him through binoculars, making sure I had the right guy. Yep, there it was: A blue star tattooed on his lower back, just above the band of the board shorts that clung to his ass. His body reminded me of the tennis player, Rafael Nadal—ripped biceps and a firm, round rump that couldn’t help but jut out. My dick stiffened.

  He inspected his upper arm a moment, and then he shouldered his board and waded to shore. Through binoculars, I saw him wave to me to come meet him on the beach. I hustled down the dune and waited for him. I found myself staring at his smooth, pumped chest and flat abs. Up close he looked about twenty.

  “Hey, guy,” he said, “I think I got stung by a jellyfish. You don’t have any painkillers, do you? Or Benadryl?”

  “Oh, gosh. Let me see.” I put my hands on his muscular, damp arm, but he pulled away.

  “Dude, don’t touch it. If you get the venom on you, it’ll sting like a bitch.”

  I examined his shoulder, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Until he brushed away my hands, I’d thought the jellyfish sting had been a ruse to get next to me. Now I wasn’t so sure.

  “U
h, what’s good for that? Vinegar? I could go back to town and get you some. And Benadryl or whatever.”

  “Would you? You’d totally be my hero.”

  Oh, hello. “Yeah, rinse off your shoulder in the water and then sit tight.”

  Twenty minutes later, I returned with vinegar, gauze, and everything but a nurse.

  “Holy shit, I’m not dying,” he said when he saw the big paper sack of supplies.

  “Just let me take care of you.” I spoke in the relaxing voice I used when I wanted a guy to give me control. God, I wanted him. He was about 5’8”—perfect since I like my bottoms to be a little shorter than me. Now that his hair was dry, I could see his dark curls fell to just above his shoulders.

  His arm did have a small row of welts now. He winced as I dabbed vinegar-soaked cotton over them. He popped a Benadryl.

  “I brought you a soda so you could take the pills, but I see you don’t need it.”

  He grinned. Wow, what a beautiful smile.

  “This’ll teach me not to wear a rash guard. I really appreciate your help.”

  “No sweat, Adriano.”

  He looked up, stunned. Oh, shit.

  “How did you know my name?”

  “Just…I guess…I recognized you.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You did a search for gay sex and surfing and came up with a page for BlueStarSurfer.”

  “Yeah, you caught me. That was it.”

  “My goddamn ex put that up. Shit, the trouble he’s caused me.”

  At least he continued to let me tape gauze to his shoulder instead of storming off. His skin was smooth, tan, and invitingly soft. So soft, in fact, I touched him more than I needed just to apply a bandage.

  “So, no, I don’t let every guy that watches me surf fuck me at sunset.”

  “Yeah, well, good…but I did think you were adorable in the photos,” I said. He’d been flirting up until he found out I knew his name. I had to salvage this.

  “Thanks,” he said but his voice had gone cold. He didn’t look at me. “At least you’re honest about why you’re here. That’s a first.”

  “Yeah, but I guess I’m still a sleazy ass-hound, huh?”

  “True that. But you bandaged up my arm. That’s worth a kiss.”

  He leaned over and put his lips on mine as a pleasurable, warm sensation rose from my stomach. It startled me because I almost never like kissing.

  “But that’s all, ass-hound. I’m gonna walk home and get in bed before the Benadryl takes me down.” He blinked hair out of his beautiful brown eyes. “What’s your name?”

  “Jerry.”

  “Okay, Jerry. Thanks. See you around.” I watched him saunter away, his bouncing walk revealing the confidence of a young man who knew he was often desired. It was odd that I should think of him as “young.” Though I was only a couple years older, I felt ancient in comparison.

  The next day it rained, but Friday I returned to my dune and watched Adriano. I couldn’t resist, and I hadn’t given up hope that my act of kindness would be rewarded big time. He was shirtless again which made me chuckle. It must have been more important to show off his body than to protect himself from jellyfish.

  I didn’t get the impression Adriano was some kind of champion surfer. If so, he wouldn’t be on the Texas coast on a beach that no one bothered with except on weekends. On the other hand, he seemed to know which waves were going to be worth riding before I could even see the swell, and he always managed several cuts up and down before stepping off the board in the shallows. He only fell once, and when he tried to remount his board, I saw a lot farther below the blue star. The wave had knocked his shorts down around his knees, giving me a great view of his perfect, round ass, glistening wet in the sunshine. When he realized what had happened, he yanked up his shorts as fast as he could and turned to where I’d been watching with an embarrassed laugh. I gave him a loud wolf whistle and a thumbs-up. He laughed again. It was such a sweet sound I felt myself yearning to hold him in my arms.

  I tried to shake the feeling off. I don’t fall for the guys I fucked or wanted to fuck. I was too young. Jerry, just focus on tagging this boy’s tail.

  A half hour later when Adriano walked up the beach, I had returned fully to hound mode.

  “Okay, now that you’ve let me see it, you’ve got to let me fuck it, dude,” I said, rubbing my crotch in what I hoped was a provocative manner.

  He shot me a playful grin. “No, I don’t.”

  “I took care of your jellyfish sting. What do I need to do to earn a shot at your ass?”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “Man, you’re bold.” He thought for a minute. “All right. Let me teach you to surf. If you get good enough to ride one all the way in, then…well…” He broke off, laughing.

  “Seriously? I have to learn to surf?”

  “Why not? That’ll prove that you’re interested in making me happy, too, instead of just getting your own rocks off.”

  “But the other guys didn’t have to learn to surf, did they? They just got to fuck you.”

  He frowned and fidgeted.

  I started to massage his crotch and stroked the blue star on his back. “Dude, let me get your legs in the air for a little while. It won’t be just you giving me pleasure, I promise. I know how to be good to a bottom. You’ll be begging me never to stop.”

  I felt him start to stiffen in his shorts, but he pulled my hand away. “C’mon, don’t.” His breath came rapidly. “Look, I want to, but I’m not into people thinking I’m a slut.”

  “Please,” I begged.

  He whimpered twice, gave me a look of resignation, and stripped off his board shorts. In a flash, he was on all fours, offering up his ass like it said he would on the website. So he was a slut. My favorite kind of guy. I smiled. I was getting him way before sunset.

  As I bent down to stroke his crack in conquest, I caught the expression on his face. It was not one of lust or expectant ecstasy. Instead, I read conflict, maybe even sadness.

  Fucking hell. My dick had never wanted to claim an ass so badly, and there was nothing to stop me. But maybe for the first time ever I felt like I didn’t want to take from someone who was so trusting and sweet when there was a good chance there’d be regret and resentment after his orgasm. I’d seen it before.

  “Hey,” I said, moving around so I could take his chin in my fingers. “Teach me to surf.”

  He gave me a confused look. Considering how gorgeous he was, I bet no one had stopped himself before. Shit. I hoped I didn’t insult him by not just going for it. Maybe it’d been a bad idea to deny my dick right at that moment.

  He flipped over on his back and looked at me with genuine curiosity.

  “There’s a small rip current here that can be dangerous at low tide,” Adriano said, his breathing still shallow and fast. “Are you a good swimmer?”

  “Not bad, but probably not rip current good.”

  He stood up and grabbed his board shorts. “Okay, we’ll go up to the main beach. Let’s stop by my uncle’s and get my other board and some trunks for you.”

  We drove my car down a sandy, barely paved road for about two miles. He held his right hand out the window, keeping his board fixed to the roof. I drove slowly to help him out.

  The only redeeming quality of the dilapidated shack Adriano shared with his uncle was that you could walk to that hidden beach. Adriano’s room wasn’t much bigger than a closet, but it held a mattress and a dresser. As far as I could tell there wasn’t a TV or computer anywhere in the house, but he’d left a radio on, and a droning voice spoke of tides and water temperature. On the walls amidst cracked and dented plaster, there were a few posters. Two of surfers riding huge waves and one of a koala. Interesting. Now that I thought about it, Adriano kind of had a cuddly koala quality to him.

  He tossed a blue bathing suit at me. “See if that fits. And here’s a rash guard,” he said, throwing me a clingy black shirt.

  I turned my back and stripped.

  “
I don’t get to see your dick?” Adriano asked behind me. Even without looking, I knew he had a mischievous grin on his face.

  “Nope. Not yet. It’s worth waiting for though.”

  We piled his longboards into the back of a rusted pickup and drove about five miles in the opposite direction from his little hidden beach.

  “So what do you do for money, Blue Star Boy?” I asked.

  “Valero gas station. I fill in some weekends.”

  “That’s it?”

  He was silent for a moment. “And I turn a few tricks. Older local guys I trust.” He looked embarrassed and regretful. “Does that ruin me for you?”

  “Not at all. But does it ruin you for you?”

  He bit his lip. “Let’s change the subject. Are you nervous?”

  “Nah. You’re not going to let anything happen to me.”

  He took his eyes off the road and gave me another meaningful look, practically studying me. “That’s right. I won’t.”

  Adriano wanted to start on the sand to show me how to “pop up” on the board from prone to standing, but I told him to skip it. I’d already seen him do it tons of times.

  Texas waters aren’t the cleanest, and Matagorda is no exception. Today, at least, the water was not too murky or gunked up with seaweed.

  “Good amount of wind. Not too choppy,” Adriano said as we waded out. “Okay, first, get on deck, and I’ll show you how to paddle out to the break.”

  “I think I can figure that out. I’m a quick learner.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but you’re getting on the surfboard the wrong way around.”

  “Oh.”

  I did about that well for the first half hour. He said he was giving me a course called “Getting to Know Your Wave.” This must have bored him to pieces, but he was patient. He would just yell “Now! Now, now, now!” whenever he wanted me to “drop in” on a wave. I’d ride in on my stomach, getting a face full of water each time. I felt like I was a little kid back in Michigan experiencing the thrill of a toboggan for the first time. I must have had a big goofy grin, and all I could think was “Again! Again!”