Email: boy18cute@yahoo.com
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Dylan_Boy18cute
Previous page
The Cabana Boys’ meet ‘The Foundation’
-2- ‘Samoa – Arizona’
”Professor Brent Spiner, where is he? We need to find him as soon as possible!”
Callum Masters stood in the kitchen of the huge apartment on the 109th floor of 725 5th Avenue, inside the famous saucer module, the legendary structure that housed laboratories, living quarters and even the huge landing pod and hangar section for several helicopters or VTOL planes.
Dylan Bullymore, the young man who was just brewing strong cups of coffee, heard Callum’s words.
What the model blurted out after he had ended a phone-call made clear that the ’accidental meeting’ in the park in fact had not been mere coincidence
Ian, Dylan’s husband, had also heard the exclamation and now stood next to Dylan, clearly prompting Callum to give an explanation.
Joey had now joined them too. All four of the young men were still naked after hours of hot sex, but now the mood had changed. They were naked only because there had been no time to dress.
The phone-call had made clear action was required urgently.
Callum, now dropping any well rehearsed script how to play their game to sweet-talk the hosts into helping them, spoke up:
”We are indeed Callum and Joey, Model and young entrepreneur, but we are also the leaders of a group of people who fight an invisible fight.”
He stopped briefly. Their host’s stance had changed, they were all business now. Naked or not, those two men would react, concentrated and quickly, fight their guests or help them, depending on the next few minutes and the arguments Callum and Joey presented.
It took them just a brief explanation and Ian retrieved a laptop to contact the man their guests had been looking for. Ian knew that the connection could be not traced, since they exchanged highly encrypted, very short, code messages in situations like this. The signal was sent up to a certain Starlink Satellite, jumping to another, and another, and another, until, in the end, not less than two thousand satellites had hosted the signal, jumping around randomly, untraceable by even the quickest supercomputer.
Ian just sent the message his friend and colleague Professor Brent Spiner had suggested for any emergency situation. His computer would get the message loud and clear, and the Professor would contact them.
The signal was simple. A single code-word, harmless, innocuous: “Dear”
They knew that the word looked like someone had started to type in a message to a loved one and had been disturbed. Millions of Whatsapps, SMS and e-mails started with this one word.
To Brent Spiner, however, the word meant his holiday was over.
Earlier, before the short message had disturbed them, two lovers had been in a cottage by the beach, preparing lunch. This part of the world was almost eighteen hours ahead of New York, and Professor Brent and his boyfriend Captain Ashan, a pilot serving in the Army of the Sheikdom of Ras-al-Haroun, appreciated their freedom, a short holiday from their stressful jobs.
'Don't ask -Don't tell' was used by the King's troops, but still Captain Ashan would have to face harsh consequences if he openly engaged in any homosexual conduct, so walking around naked, as relaxed as now, was usually impossible for the two lovers.
Usually when alone after a long time separated from each other, doing their very different jobs, all it needed was to reach a room without a mishap, and a horned up Brent almost ripped the tight uniform off the young sexy soldier's tight and muscled body.
Their pent up longings and their pent up sexual urges always needed release when they first met, sometimes weeks after their last private time.
The first night on the private retreat had been no exception. The little beach-house, belonging to the Foundation Professor Brent Spiner worked with, was on a beautiful island in the big blue ocean, thousands of miles away from the big and busy cities. Their Samoan Island had enchanted the lovers, and they dropped all precautions, as usual, when they were together.
The titles and ranks, Professor and Captain were forgotten. As soon as the beach-house door closed behind them it was game on.
Kneeling, the scientist engulfed the thick Arabian meat with his lips and sucked Ashan's dick into his mouth, opening his throat to massage the fat dickhead and milk a first spurt of cum right out of the horny soldier. Ashan grunted and moaned, his hands in the hair of his lover, pumping his hips back and forth as he fucked the man’s face almost frantically.
They had not been with each other for weeks now, and they celebrated their love like teenagers.
Ashan held Brent down and started to grunt out loud. He needed to shoot, and the way his lover sucked him, deep, fast, frantically, Ashan knew Brent needed to drink some fresh cum from the tap as urgently as he wanted to cum. 
Both men knew that the holiday just began.
Even though Ashan's dick had pumped out a fat load, he did not go down. Young, virile, sex starved
as he was, he wanted to get to fuck the man's ass as soon as possible, and Spiner seemed to be game, pushing his trousers down and basically ripping his shirt off like a man possessed by the need to feel a fat cock in his hungry ass.
Both men knew what they wanted, and for now all they wanted was hard, animalistic sex
.
Ashan's body had looked so promising to the scientist that he could not wait to fully undress the young pilot, and he was not disappointed.
Every inch of Ashan was as Spiner remembered, had dreamt of during the long nights they had been apart. The young pilot was well trained, nicely muscled, and ready, able, and willing to throw a mean fuck, and another, and another. It took them hours to stop their heated game of lovemaking.
The men panted, exhausted after a frenzy of sex and an uncounted number of cum shots, and laid back on the bed for the first time since they walked in. Ashan had asked: “Thirsty?”
He carefully avoided to address the man in his bed with a name, a title, a nickname or a term of endearment, playing a little game they played since they had first met. They were still careful, and since they had to work with each other, they always tried to maintain a professional distance when in public.
Now, however, the ice was broken, the distance overcome. No need to be careful now, here, in the privacy of the lonely private island.
The man in bed followed the young sexy pilot with his eyes, drinking in the beautiful curved ass and the narrow waist, the broad shoulders and strong arms of the well trained soldier. Ashan, now bending over to get some juice out of the fridge, should be admired like the statue of David, the scientist thought, as he felt his dick harden again.
He got up, walked over to the small kitchenette, and embraced the man from behind. Ashan's ass, now pressed against Brent's dick, seemed to call to the pulsing rod, and Brent Spiner shoved his dick in deep, pushing Ashan forward against the fridge.
As the fucking began, the glasses and plates in the kitchenette's cupboard began to rattle and jingle, but the men were far too distracted by their heated lovemaking to think about any damaged dishes.
After Ashan had been the leader in bed, now Brent took the leash. He felt his juices boil and pulled his dick out of his sexy lover's ass, turned him around and kissed him deeply. While his hands roamed over Ashan's back, cupping his ass checks and feeling his strong muscles, the fat dripping dick rubbed against Ashan's own cock.
Brent could not wait any longer: He pushed Ashan down to his knees, using his hands on his lover’s shoulders to guide him, now holding his head in place to fuck the young man's face.
Brent looked down and saw his lover's angelic face.
Ashan's big, almost black eyes were looking up to his lover, as the pouty lips of the beautiful young Arab closed around Spiner's dick.
Brent saw his lover look up to him lovingly, and he knew what Ashan had tried to avoid for quite some time, but in the end, confessed: They had fallen deeply in love with each other.
Brent came on the spot, filling his lovers mouth with the umpteenth cum load of the day.
Brent heard Ashan gag briefly, but, always the trooper, the soldier took the dick like a man, sucked it in deep and milked it dry. He let it slide out, licking the shaft perfectly clean, and smiled up at the man who slowly came down from his high. Still kneeling, he looked up at Brent like the epitome of the cliche, mouthing: “I love you!”
However, all that had changed when the message came through.
“Dear”, that short word, for an outsider just the beginning of a sentence like “Dear Grandma, I wish you all the best!” was in fact a high alert. 
While Professor Spiner fired up his highly encrypted laptop, Captain Ashan had set up their small satellite dish to establish a secure connection to headquarters.
Only a few minutes later everything had been discussed, and Ashan prepared their hasty retreat by packing the small backpacks. They did not need much, most necessities had been provided, so it took only minutes to get ready. Brent just closed his laptop as Ashan walked in, already wearing his flight gear. Their private Jet was ready for departure.
Brent Spiner already knew the drill. His lover, his pilot, opened a secret passageway inside a closet, and they followed stairs down, way down, more than ten meters into the ground.
A hallway built of steel reinforced concrete lead a few hundred yards away from the beach-house, and ended in a secret hangar, built subterraneanly, away from the beach under a small clearing in the nearby forest.
Only helicopters or VTOL jets could land and take off again, and such a jet, a Vertical Take Off and Landing capable Jet was their means of transportation. Captain Ashan fired up the powerful turbines, while Spiner sent the remote signal to open the roof of the hangar.
The departure was flawless as usual, and nobody saw them take off and leave the island.
Meanwhile, in New York, the four had dressed. It felt better to wear at least a shirt and some shorts while they planned the next steps. King Omar Suleiman of Ras-Al-Haroun had been contacted and suggested they come to visit him and his wife Alia at the Palace.
The Jet with Captain Ashan and Professor Spiner landed at a very small private airfield. Just in case someone was watching, Ashan landed the Jet as if it had no vertical thrusters, using the full length of the runway.
The Jet looked elegant and sleek, but not overly sophisticated and did not raise many eyebrows.
Brent Spiner left his lover after a long kiss in the privacy of the cabin, while a car already waited for him. The Professor himself had set up the plan to vanish, to make it impossible for any spy to follow him or Ashan.
It took the better part of a day for him the reach his destination, a huge RV, parked in the area of Quartzsite, a town known for its snowbird population, people who were fleeing the cold of winter in their RVs.
Brent knew that an older but perfectly maintained Prevost Bus would be waiting, and the bus would blend in with all the other campers.
Dylan and Ian had been very surprised when their guests, the young model and his rich boyfriend, revealed the sole purpose of their visit, of the well rehearsed plot to meet and seduce them.
Callum and Joey were the leaders of “The Cabana Boys”, and they knew Ian and Dylan were working with “The Foundation”.
Something was awry, and the “Cabana Boys” knew whom they needed to ask for help.
”BUT HOW?” Dylan exclaimed, feeling his Husband’s hand on his leg to calm him down.
”How did you find out you needed the world’s leading expert in robotics and micro-robotics?” Dylan had just asked, as Joey calmly explained: ”It helps to be rich, and you do meet interesting people!”
Callum chuckled: ”Don’t tease them, they’re friends!” With that he got serious and explained that their chief of staff, Mr. Jeeves, sometimes also Joey’s assistant, Butler, Chauffeur and Bodyguard had been an Agent for the British MI6 and still knew many high ranking officers he could ask for help.
After a few of Cabana boy’s top agents had been abducted, or actually been sold into sexual slavery, Jeeves found out whom they had to ask for help.
Professor Brent Spiner had been the inventor of the technology that nowadays was being abused by the unscrupulous leaders of Dickson Enterprises and their associates.
Brent Spiner had invented the nanites, and now he was needed to rein them in again.
Next page