 |
|||
|
|
The man with the hash sat in the corner of the café, rolling joints between his yellow fingers. When he spoke English, his accent was Jamaican with an Irish lilt.
"If you fuckers want to bring some home to the US, I'll tell you what you have to do."
Joel giggled inanely. Jarred yawned and stretched his muscles. The pot seemed to have no effect on him. He was still cocky with his Colgate smile.
"You got to store it in your ass, man. That's the only way. I talk to this fucker from New York and he say that shit is gay. I say, 'fuck gay, man! You want to go to prison and get fucked?' So he don't do it and next I hear, he get caught. You got to bag it in a condom and stick it up your ass."
"Fuck that." Rory glared through blood-shot eyes. "Fuck that, man. My ass is exit only."
Joel giggled. Josh took another toke and coughed.
"Shit, dude, who the fuck would do that?" Rory turned to Jarred, accusing, "would you do that?"
Jarred flashed his pearly teeth. "Sure thing bro, long as you can eat it out."
"Fuck that," Rory snarled, "Fuck this conversation. Let's just buy our shit and leave."
But Rory didn't forget what the dealer had said. It came up again in the red light district, as the boys cruised the streets, trying to hide their sexual curiosity. And then again, at the youth hostel bar, where Jarred was chatting up a couple of cute Australian backpackers.
"It's just like a tampon," said the blond backpacker, "I'd totally do it. But we're going to morocco next. No more of this shitty European soap bar."
"Up the ass is different," Rory persisted, "chicks are different. You have built-in pockets."
The brunette giggled but the blond remained un-phased. "You know what's really gay? Prison. If I were a guy, I'd take some precautions."
"You don't know shit about being a man," Rory scowled and took a swig of beer.
"Rory, shut up with your anal fixation.” Jarred grinned, swinging a muscular arm across the back of the blond’s chair, “I’d do it. Shit, I’ll do it when we leave.”
Shortly before their flight, the blond backpacker came to Jarred's room with a tampon and some lotion. She ripped the string off the tampon, double-bagged the hash, and told Jarred to knot the condom and tie the string around it like a party balloon. Jarred laughed and shook his head. "You've done this yourself, haven't you?"
Before the blond could say anything in response, Jarred corralled her into the hallway for a goodbye kiss. Then he went inside and locked the door.
On the train to the airport, Jarred was a star. Even Joel wanted to know if Jarred was going through with it.
"At least I'm sober," Jarred said, "how much did you smoke this morning?"
"I dunno," said Joel, "I just finished my stash."
Joel was Zen-like, full of goofy smiles. But, in the airport, as they neared the metal detectors, he began to fidget. "My clothes are itching. Why do those faggots have dogs? Are they sniffer dogs?"
"Chill out, bro," Jarred grinned unconvincingly, "they can't pin anything on you. You're totally clean."
"At least he doesn't have a tampon up his ass," Rory chuckled.
Josh pushed Joel into line ahead of him, "relax bro, these pigs don't know shit."
A middle-aged Dutch customs official approached the group, led by a German shepherd. Joel's body was rigid. The dog pressed his snout into Joel's pants leg, turned, and snaked across the floor, still sniffing. When the dog reached Jarred, his movements became erratic. He sniffed Jarred's hands, never bothering with the backpack. Jarred stepped backwards and the dog let out a bark.
The customs official tightened the dog's leash, "let me see you fingers."
"I've been eating pizza. He must like pepperoni."
"Jager does not like pepperoni." The customs official caught hold of Jarred's hand. His eyes were a pale gray. He raised Jarred's hand to inspect his fingernails. "Dirty," he said, "you should have washed them thoroughly."
The officer pressed his thumb into Jarred's palm, massaging the tension. "Don't worry. Maybe you divided the hash for your friend," he nodded towards Joel, "you do not need a dog to smell him. The smoke is on his clothes."
"I-" Jarred hesitated.
The officer continued, "Your other two friends are fine. If you confess, I will say that the four of you are traveling separately. Then they will catch their flight without a search."
Josh turned his back on Jarred and the officer. Rory stood there dumbly, staring at his wristwatch.
"We aren't together," Jarred lied, "I only know Joel."
"Alright. Then you and all your friends can follow me."
The room was white concrete. Benches lined the walls. Five officers with guns and rubber gloves proceeded to search the carry-on. A female officer pinched the seams of the Rory's duffle bag, searching for irregularities. Eventually, the gray-eyed officer told the group to re-pack their bags. Once the bags were packed, the officers ordered them to take off their shoes and stand, legs apart, with their hands against the wall.
A slim, square-shouldered Arian was assigned to Jarred. He moved his warm hands up and down, patting along the seams of Jarred's clothing. "Take off your T-shirt."
Blushing, Jarred did as he was told.
"Fold it and put it on the bench."
His friends were also taking off their clothes. Each had an officer with them to supervise the process.
"Now your pants."
Again, Jarred acquiesced. He folded the khakis and put them with his shirt.
"Please remove your underwear as well."
"Dude, that's an invasion of privacy."
The Arian officer laughed and muttered something in Dutch. The older, gray-eyed officer approached them. "This is not America," he said, "Jager detected marijuana resin beneath your fingernails. We have reason to perform a strip search."
He laid a firm hand on Jarred's arm. Jarred turned again to brace the wall. The Arian hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic of Jarred's boxers. Panicked, Jarred made a move to run but the Arian officer was faster. He pressed his uniformed body against him and hooked one arm around Jarred's neck while his other hand tugged the boxers down past Jarred's ass. Jarred felt the Arian's hot chest against his back, expanding and contracting through the standard-issue shirt. He struggled silently but the Arian tightened his choke hold in response.
"Hands against the wall. Don't move."
Jarred resumed the prone position. The Arian took a flashlight from his belt.
"Please widen you legs and lift your testicles."
Jarred froze.
"Please widen you legs and lift your testicles or I will have to conduct the search manually."
No answer. The customs officer growled. A warm gloved hand cupped Jarred's balls. The touch reverberated through Jarred's body. He bit back a whimper as another hand roughly spread his cheeks. The beam of the flash-light was on his anus. Somewhere behind him, the gray-eyed officer was laughing.
"Are you menstrual?" asked the Arian. The customs officials began to talk excitedly.
Jarred's face burned with embarrassment. His balls contracted and his cock began to stiffen. The Arian removed his hand, disgusted. The laughter reached a crescendo as another officer stepped in to take a look.
"Gentlemen," said the gray-eyed officer, "we must give these Americans the benefit of the doubt. Only last week Wouter discovered a plug in someone's anus."
Wouter was a lanky officer with a wide, disarming grin. "We thought it was drugs but really it was just a rubber plug. The man was a fagot. He says he met a dominatrix in Ruysdaelkade and she ordered that he keep the thing inside."
The gray-eyed officer turned to Josh and Rory, "did you know your friend was menstrual in his ass?"
The customs officials laughed wildly. Josh cringed, hunching down so that his chin was on his chest.
"It was a dare," Joel lied, "I dared him to do it."
"Shut up," Rory muttered, "it was his idea."
"Fuck you," Jarred's mucles twitched but his body remained stiff, "Rory, you fucking faggot."
Turning to look at Jarred, Rory's face twisted with revulsion, "fagot yourself, dude. Don't blame me that you enjoy this shit."
"Enough," interrupted the gray-eyed officer. "Get those three shitheads dressed and process their papers. I will perform the cavity search."
Jarred stumbled with the boxer shorts around his ankles. The gray-eyed officer grabbed his shoulder roughly. "Do not pull them up. Keep them down and follow behind me."
Jarred waddled down a narrow hallway, following the gray-eyed officer. He could hear the voices of his friends, arguing as they put on their clothes. His body felt weak, flushed with humiliation. But his erection was stubborn, bobbing stupidly with every step.
The officer opened a door, revealing a dirty closet. He pulled a cord and a yellow light-bulb flickered. The walls smelled of mildew and antiseptic. "No security cameras," the officer explained, "I know how you Americans value privacy."
Jarred disentangled his feet. His legs shook as he stooped to grab the boxers.
"Stay down and hold your ankles," said the officer. He maneuvered himself behind Jarred, pushing Jarred's head into the wall. Jarred tried to brace himself but the officer sunk his fingers into Jarred's scrotum, twisting viciously as he whispered: "I told you to hold your ankles, shithead." Jarred grabbed his ankles, pressing his forehead against the concrete.
A cool jell trickled down Jarred's crack. He looked up to see the gray-eyed officer, smearing his rubber gloves with lube.
"I'll take it out myself," said Jarred, "you don't have to do this."
But the officer's hand was already on the string. The hash-filled condom teased Jarred's ring muscle. When it popped out, Jarred gasped. His anus winked closed and a bead of pre-cum trickled out his dick. The condom bounced like a yoyo. The officer held it to the light and laughed when he recognized the contents.
"This is four grams at most. You risked your ass for a very small profit."
The officer dangled the condom beneath Jarred’s nose. He cringed away, disgusted with himself.
"But perhaps it is a diversion, yes? Perhaps you are not as stupid as you look. Perhaps I will remove ten grams of uncut cocaine from your lower intestine. Ass up, head down."
Shakily, Jarred did as he was told.
The officer's fingers were thick and impatient. The first felt like a claw, the second felt like burning. But it was not until the fourth that Jarred began to cry.
"So tight," the officer whispered, "please, don't be sad. I am professional, not like those men you meet in jail."
"Stop. Please. No more." Sobs punctuated Jarred's voice, causing it to break. He hiccuped spasmodically, trying to control his lungs. "Dude, there's nothing in there."
"I know." The officer hooked his fingers, scraping them roughly against Jarred's prostate. "I do not have to tell them about the condom full of drugs. I could tell them that it was a tampon. Would you like me to lie to my colleagues?"
Jarred nodded distractedly. His crying had subsided but the sensations that took its place left Jarred feeling dizzy and ashamed.
"Your ass is too tight to smuggle drugs. But, if you relax and work with me, I will make you an excellent drug smuggler."
Jarred whimpered when the fingers were withdrawn. Then he heard the crinkle of a condom being opened. "You faggot pig. Don't even think of it."
As Jarred straightened his back, the officer delivered a donkey punch. The side of Jarred's skull collided with the wall. The officer caught him mid-fall, propping him against the mildewed concrete.
"Don’t speak. I know who you are: rich shitheads traveling on parents’ money. Beer and fast food and marijuana; you put everything into your body.” The officer deftly applied his condom, “I wear a condom to protect my DNA. You will not need a souvenir to remember me. If police ask, just say you fucked a horse.” Jarred stared in horror at his cock.
"Hands against the wall and legs apart."
Jarred made a move to speak and stopped. The gun that had been hanging in its holster was now pointing directly at his head. Without a word, he turned and braced the wall.
"Beautiful," the officer exhaled. He buried his face in the crook of Jarred's neck, snaking one arm around the front. Jarred gasped and shuddered as the officer ran his gun down Jarred's chest, grazing Jarred's nipples with the barrel. "Your ass is perfect, tight and round and firm." The officer teased Jarred's erection with the gun, "I see how you want it, stupid cunt,” he rubbed his cock against Jarred's ass, breathing hotly into his ear “say you want it and maybe I’ll help you."
But Jarred only growled: "fuck you, you faggot."
The officer withdrew the gun, raising it level with Jarred's face. "Hold this," he said, "hold this and point it at your head."
"I'll shoot you," Jarred whispered.
"No you won't." The officer thrust his gun into Jarred's hand, firmly pressing Jarred's fingers closed. Then he pushed Jarred against the wall. The officer's breath came hot and quick and ragged. With one hand, he stroked Jarred's aching dick. With the other, he guided his own cock. "You see? It is a big gun. I just wanted you to feel its weight." With one deft thrust, he entered Jarred's hole, grinding himself deep into his ass.
Jarred sobbed and cursed. His body bucked beneath the officer. In his hands, he clutched the gun. But his arms were braced firmly against the wall.
"You see? You stupid cunt."
Jarred's head sagged uselessly between his shoulder blades. He whimpered quietly and arched his back. The officer was brutal but controlled. When Jarred's grunts signaled climax, the officer stopped thrusting and pulled out. Uselessly, Jarred humped the air. But the officer just laughed and stroked himself.
"You like to be used. Say it."
"Please, dude, make it quick. Don't stop."
The officer's face twisted with desire. "Don't stop? You tell me what to do? I want you as a fuck toy, as a hole."
Jarred was dizzy with arousal. His vision clouded as he mouthed the words: "as a hole. I want…" He hesitated.
“Go on," said the grey-eyed officer.
"I want to be your hole," Jarred surrendered.
Instantly, the officer was on him, slamming viciously into his ass. "Put it in your mouth," he said to Jarred, "put it in your mouth and hold the trigger."
Sobbing, Jarred did as he was told. His elbow hit the concrete with a jolt and the gun metal caught against his lip. Blood began to well up in his mouth. The officer ducked down and bit his neck. Jarred chipped his tooth against the barrel.
“Stupid whore, take care not to shoot.”
The Officer was ball-deep in Jarred’s ass. Jarred met his pelvis, thrust for thrust. His dick throbbed and he knew that he was coming.
“When you shoot your cock, give me my gun back.”
Jarred spat the gun out of his mouth. His body spasmed and he lost his grip. As he came, the gun fell to the ground. His semen splattered across the wall.
The officer ran his gloves across the stain and pressed his fingers against Jarred’s lips. Jarred opened his mouth and the officer forced the dirty semen-stained fingers past his teeth. Jarred gagged on salt and latex rubber.
The officer’s thrusts became erratic. He groaned and his body shuddered. At last, he allowed himself to orgasm. His cock pulsed in Jarred’s anal passage. Jarred felt the tension dissipate. Fat and limp, the cock slipped from his ass.
They stood there, listening to the sounds of their own breathing.
At last, the officer removed his condom. “You were so tight.” He shook his head and smiled.
Jarred winced. He sensed that something had been torn.
“I love the noises you make when I fuck you. Do you make those sounds for all the men?”
Jarred wiped his mouth and spat, “I don’t fuck men.”
“No but they fuck you.”
The officer’s shoes were immaculately shined. Jarred’s eyes alighted on the gun. In one swift motion, he picked it up.
“It is unloaded.”
Jarred flipped the safety switch and smirked. His chipped tooth glinted in the light.
“Drop it. You’re a tourist, not a criminal.”
“Sweet! So then you’ll give me back my clothes.”
Joel slept fitfully beneath fluorescent lights. Josh and Rory argued in low voices. When Jarred entered, everyone sat up.
“Congratulations,” said the grey-eyed officer, “all of you are now free to go.”
Rory opened and closed his mouth.
Joel just smiled and rubbed his eyes. “Hey bro, what’s up? How did you get here?”
“He found the tampon – they thought it was drugs.” Jarred pointed an accusing finger at the junior customs officials.
The grey-eyed officer smiled benevolently and handed Joel his passport, “We are sorry for the inconvenience. Only please, next time you smoke, be more discrete.”
An hour later, at the airport bar, Jarred bought his friends a round of drinks.
“Dude, once again, you are the king of bullshit. A tampon,” Rory snickered, “up your ass. How the fuck did you convince that faggot?”
Jarred politely declined a stool, “if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in Europe, it’s delivery. If you look weak, people will fuck you over.”
Josh wiped the froth from his upper lip, “that’s easy for you to say, man. But some people are naturally pussies.”
Jarred’s hand tightened around the glass. “Fuck that.” He took a hasty gulp of beer, “Fuck nature. It’s in how people perceive you.”
|
|
|