This is an excerpt from the book-in-progress LOST ISLAND.

 It's 1946, and Brad and Clint and Jimmy are sailing on the Balanga in the steamy South Pacific searching for the lost island of Palua Pae and their buddy Saroh who is being held captive there.

PHOTO above - Brad

The Balanga was slowly moving through a dead calm as Brad stood in its bow in the silvery light of early morning. Looking back where they'd come from at the hills of Finisterra Island, he could swear he spotted the very same mountain top where he'd been tied to the tree the afternoon before.

Frowning, his hands gripped the rail tighter and he looked away, facing forward. He and Saroh had just been about to enter the cave when Kee and his thugs had come over the crest and spotted them.

If only they'd had some time to be alone together!

A shout from one of the crew members jerked him back to the real world of the present and he was surprised to see the outline of Manus Island in the distance. Nothing was stirring in the sea ahead, not a ripple, not a breeze, not even the cry of a bird. There was only the faint echo of the shout and the hum of the diesel to break the stillness.

With a little shake of his head, Brad's frown turned into half a smile. He knew it'd take a miracle for him to get Saroh off his mind for more than just a few seconds. He could not stop thinking about the boy, worrying about him. Clint and Jimmy were starting to get annoyed. Pissed off. Like as if they suddenly weren't good enough for him anymore.

Clint had come alone to the mission infirmary earlier in the morning to get him. Brad figured he'd made Jimmy stay back on the boat so they could be alone. And he was right. After he'd gotten dressed in the clothes Clint brought from the lockers of the Balanga, they'd thanked the nurses and gone outside. Clint immediately pulled him around to the back of the building by the stockade fence where no one could see them.

"Ouch! Hey, you're hurting me," Brad snapped. "I have blisters all over from the ant bites and they burn like fuck."

Clint pushed him up against the back wall of the infirmary. "Aw, so it hurts, huh? But you're a big bad dude, ain't you? Knocked out the tong leader the other night and stood up to him yesterday again when he kidnapped your sweetheart, huh?"

He was leering at Brad and pushed against him with his face close, his big bulk pressing hard. "So what's a few little blisters, tough guy?"

Brad couldn't help smiling and his heart was beating wildly. Clint was so damn sexy when he was mad. "You're fucking jealous," he accused the bigger boy.

"Damn right I am." Clint's arms wrapped around Brad and he pulled him tight. "I finally come to my senses about you, and then whaddaya do? You fall in love with some other guy."

"Wait a minute." Brad had threaded his arms around Clint and was hugging him just as tightly, their mouths only inches apart. "You started mooning over Jimmy from the minute we first saw him. I thought you were digging him way more than me."

Clint made a face. "Aw, the heck with him, and Saroh too. I told you that you're the one. I don't care if your new crush got kidnapped and you got chewed up by ants. I'm still your boyfriend, dammit."

Brad loved it when Clint got rough and it was turning him on like gangbusters that he was jealous.

"Gimme a break, huh?" he argued, wanting to keep the drama going, craving the excitement. "I'm still loopy from that ant venom and the medicine. And ... fuck! I had to pine for you like a lonely heart since you've been back from the war and didn't want to touch me. Then I get a little crush on somebody else and you can't take it?"

"Little? You ran off with him up the mountain as soon as you met him. You love him way more than you love me."

"I do not."

Clint's mouth moved closer, his eyes flashing. "Swear it to God that you don't."

Brad loved being crushed up against the building with Clint pressed hard against him. Even though he was sore and burning all over, it still felt so awesome good, and he was getting a boner to match the one Clint was rubbing on him.

"I swear to God I don't love Saroh more than I love you," he said slowly, watching Clint's deep brown eyes. "Or Jimmy either. I'll always love you more than anybody else, you big goon. But let me tell you, I got a feeling the four of us will be together from now on and we'll love each other and take care of each other and spend our lives together."

Clint nuzzled his face against Brad's. "Mmm ... that sounds really nice, all four of us, huh? Yowza! But you're still my baby, kiddo. Don't you forget it."

He kissed Brad softly on the lips. Then, surprisingly, he snorted. "But I sure got a hankering to fuck that mission boy silly, as soon as I can get my hands on him."

Remembering this now, Brad chuckled to himself, knowing it'd be one constant love fest when Saroh was back and they were all together. And hopefully it would never end, not as long as they were young and healthy and horny and free under the blazing sun in the wild South Pacific. His hands tightened on the Balanga's rail. He damn well knew he was never going back home to America now. Fuck that place where you had to hide your love away if it wasn't what everybody expected it to be!

A pink pearlescent glow spread over the placid sea, adding a dreamy touch to the phantom quiet of the morning. Swinging his head toward the east, Brad saw the sun peaking above the horizon as it began its climb into the heavens for the new day. The sky brightened rapidly as the boat proceeded, its bow carving noiselessly through the water.

They'd had to use ropes and the strong-arm aid of a couple dozen native men to turn the Balanga around in the narrow river by the mission. It was tricky, the natives on each shore winching the boat with the ropes wrapped around thick tree trunks, all the while watching for crocodiles and even shooting a few that were getting dangerously close.

But with the help of the boys and the crew, and the powerful diesel, the job had been accomplished, followed by a big hurrah from everyone involved. Then the Balanga had made its way out to sea, easily navigating the sand bar in the estuary in the high tide. Following that, they sailed around the western end of Finisterra Island and headed north, finally on the way to Palua Pae.

Rondin, the big kanaka man, now climbed up onto the foremast to watch for hazards as the boat approached Manus Island, the area around its western end known to be a danger zone for hidden shoals. Brad started doing the same from the bow as the headlands of the island drew closer, about a mile or so away.

Captain Redd was at the wheel and Caruso and Clint and Jimmy were busy astern. Zinali was whipping them up breakfast, which they were all eagerly looking forward to, having arisen early and immediately gotten to work. Fortunately, Brad was thinking, they were all focused on the job of sailing, their excitement and impatience to get to their destination quelled as they concentrated on the serious work of getting there.

As the Balanga moved past the headlands, Brad could see how big the island was. It seemed to go on toward the east for miles and miles. Like just about everything else he'd seen here in New Guinea, it was all jungle and hills, with higher mountains toward the center like the ridged back of a dinosaur. He knew it had been an important location in stopping the Japanese occupation of the islands in the recent war, with plenty of fighting and important battles, but it looked peaceful and beautiful now in the morning light as if none of that had ever happened.

"How you feel, boy?"

Brad turned to see Caruso standing next to him. The big muscular native man was wearing only a pair of green military cargo shorts and what looked like gym shoes a boxer would wear. His beautiful physique reminded Brad of the naked musclemen in the little magazines from the dirty book stores he kept stashed secretly away at home.

"I'm pretty good, thanks. Just feel like I'm a little drunk, and the blisters from the stings hurt. But I'll live. Thanks for carrying me down from the mountain."

Caruso grinned. "Me like it. Carry you is big nice!"

Brad upticked a brow. "I think I liked it too. I don't remember much, though. Just that you guys took all my clothes off. I must've passed out after a couple minutes or so."

The man's smile showed pearly white teeth against his coffee-colored skin. "Any time you wan' do it again, me carry you any place." And he added a wink to that.

Brad struggled to keep a straight face. He couldn't believe the big handsome kanaka man was flirting with him. He wondered what Clint would have to say about that.

Brad knew he shouldn't, but he just couldn't help asking, "Do you really like boys?"

Caruso looked surprised and Brad was sure the man would've blushed if his brown skin could do it. He let out a little laugh and said, "Hell yah! Boys like you an' Clint an' Jimmy. An' Saroh. Me like lots. Men too. Lotsa men." Then he shrugged, adding, "Sometimes girl if extra pretty, me like too."

Brad was fascinated by this admission. He looked back over the rail to the water he was supposed to be watching. "But where do you meet others? How in the hell do you know who's the same way?"

Caruso chuckled. "Same like all places. Clubs ... bars where men go. Port Moresby. Shanghai. Singapore. Sydney. Always places men go. Bath house too. Lots good times."

Brad's head was spinning at the thought of it. All over this vast South Pacific there were clubs and bars and bath houses in its exotic cities catering to men who wanted to meet men? Why had he thought that happened only in places like New York and London and Paris? He knew all about what men at sea did, but apparently the same thing happened everywhere on land too.

He looked back to Caruso. "Maybe sometime you can take us to one of those places, huh? I'm sure Clint and Jimmy would like to go."

Caruso bounced his eyebrows, then grinned again. "Ha! Me take you in, somebody else wan' take you home. Me hafta fight 'em off so keep you safe."

Brad couldn't resist teasing him. "But what if we want to go home with somebody else?"

Caruso was outraged. He jabbed Brad in the chest with a finger. "You go in da place with me, you come home wit me!"

Just then there was a shout from Zinali that breakfast was being served. Brad caught hold of Caruso's finger and squeezed it tightly.

"Nothing to worry about," he chuckled. "There's nobody in the whole South Seas we'd rather go home with than you."

That brought an exultant smile to the man's face and he slung an arm around Brad's back and began to lead him toward the saloon. "Hokay! Me like that lots much. Me wait ... how say ... ahh ... on pins an' needles."

Clint and Jimmy both gave Brad 'what the fuck?' glares when he entered the saloon with Caruso's arm around his shoulders. Captain Redd and his buddy Yank were also seated at the table and they chuckled at Clint and Jimmy's reaction.

"Caruso!" the captain said in mock severity. "Holy damn kangaroos, man. Leave the boy alone. You're old enough to be his daddy."

The man let Brad go and pulled out a chair for him. "That's why he like me lots much."

Clint snorted and Jimmy hooted and then Yank started to laugh, and Captain Redd joined in. Brad tried to keep a straight face but he couldn't, and soon they were all having a good laugh as Zinali waltzed into the room from the galley carrying a tray of food.

Rondin was at the wheel now, heading the boat farther out from Manus Island where it was less likely they'd run into underwater hazards. Zinali had prepared ham and eggs, toast and waffles, and enough coffee for a regiment. They all ate with hardy appetites as their conversation turned to their mission and the strange story Professor Hyde-Morton had told Brad and Saroh.

"By James!" Captain Redd exclaimed. "I still don't know what to make of what that Professor told you in the infirmary, Brad. Has the man gone humbug or is it just the fever making him so wacky? Sounds like a lot of hooey to me."

"Don't be so hasty to make up your mind," Yank advised him. "It all makes perfect sense when you fit all the pieces together. The governments would keep all it top secret if they know.  And it'd be right in the swing of things to have scientists like Brad's dad investigating the delicate situation. I'm pretty skeptical myself, but with the galaxies aligning, the old legends of the lost island, the scientists out here searching – I think the evidence is pretty overwhelming that there definitely is substance to the story."

"And with my granny holding back such important information from me," Jimmy added, his fork in midair with a juicy piece of ham on it, "that totally convinces me. She saw something down in those caves on Palua Pae that she doesn't want me to ever know about."

"Mastee!" Caruso gruffed in agreement. "Kanaka people believe in old gods on island for thousands years."

"I'm with you guys," Clint put in, stirring some cream into his coffee. "Something is definitely up on that island and the only way to find out about it, and to get Saroh back and Brad's dad, is to go there."

Brad had been listening and watching, glad they were mostly of the same mind as he. He knew it had to be the only explanation if his dad and the other scientists had been called in to look into it.

He gave them all an encouraging smile. "I'm glad you're all pretty much on board," he said.

"We're with you, Brad," Captain Redd assured him. "All the way, me matey."

Brad hadn't mentioned it before, but he did now. "That son-of-a-bitch tong pirate Kee said he'd sell Saroh to a sultan up on the Sulu Sea if he doesn't do exactly what he wants."

Clint and Jimmy grumbled negatively in response, and Brad watched as Captain Redd, Yank, and Caruso exchanged meaningful glances.

"That squizzy dodger," Captain Redd harrumphed. "Tong or not, he better not show a leg around me. And I mean that like fuck! If he hurts that boy, I'll ..."

His voice trailed off and Caruso nodded gravely. "Me get him too! Me brake him in half. Bad men sell lotsa pretty boys to sultans an' pirates up Sulu."

The thought of it caused Brad's stomach to churn and he suddenly lost his appetite. He placed down his fork. "When do you think we'll be in the vicinity of Palua Pae?" he asked the captain.

"Early evening if the sea stays calm, maybe around sunset. I'll pull out the Admiralty pilots for this area and we can check it out later. Lots of dangers up that way and we'll have to be damn careful, boys."

After breakfast there were chores to be done and the boys got to work swabbing the deck as Manus Island disappeared far behind them. They were now in the wide open sea and the rising heat of the day was beginning to make itself felt. They had taken their shirts off and the warm sun felt surprisingly soothing on the swollen blisters on Brad's chest and back and arms. The time ticked past and when the other crew members were out of earshot Clint and Jimmy started teasing Brad.

"Still hurt all over, hot stuff?" Clint drawled at him. "Maybe me and jungle boy here can rub some nice creamy lotion all over you?"

Jimmy snorted. "Yah, I got a whole fresh load of creamy stuff just waitin' for you, dream boy."

Brad shook his mop at them and drops of water rained their way. "You two big goons get on me and it'll hurt like hell. I need time to recover."

"Ha! Recover, my ass," Clint scoffed, shaking his own mop back at Brad.

Jimmy hooted. "My ass too."

Brad snorted. "If you guys are looking for that kind of action, go see Caruso. I bet he dreams about you two every night."

"Ha!" Clint shook the mop at him again. "You're the one he had his arm around."

"And it sure looked sexy as hell," Jimmy added. "I could hardly eat thinkin' about it. I had a big boner the whole meal just looking at you." Then he added with a whine, "Me and Clint are totally dying to touch you."

"Meh, he's just saving himself for Saroh." Clint faked a nasty leer at Brad. "That's his dream boy."

Jimmy hooted. "Right. And Caruso's his dream daddy. Brad's the hottest dude in the whole Pacific Rim. Everybody wants him. We'll never get the chance to be with him again."

Brad snorted, swabbing on and turning away so they wouldn't see his smile. Oh jeez. If only Saroh was with them right now and they were all together, he was thinking. Why, they'd be the happiest fellas in the whole freaking world, loving every minute of the day even if they still had to deal with the Ching Tu Tong on the lost island and the other crazy things going on there.

Later, Clint and Jimmy had gone below deck to help McDonald with a minor repair on the engine. Brad was polishing some brass fittings in the chart room and watching an albatross fly behind them astern when Zinali came into the room.

"Mister Brad. You go down to store room and bring me up bag of flour, okay?"

Brad set down the cloth and bottle of polish. "Sure thing. Guess you used up all your supply this morning for those awesome waffles, huh? Well, we'll damn sure need more for tomorrow."

Whistling happily, feeling in a much better mood now that they were closing in on the mysterious island, Brad made his way down the narrow staircase. He didn't like it down below because it was claustrophobic and smelled of fish, so he hurried down the narrow hall to the store room.

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside. The room was dark, just a narrow stream of sunlight coming through the porthole. Brad was looking up for the light bulb pull chain when he was startled by the slam of the door behind him. He spun around in surprise.

"What the ...?"

He blurted it out, seeing Clint and Jimmy there. They'd obviously been standing on either side of the door and were now rushing at him. Before he could get more words out, they grabbed him by the arms, lifted him in the air, and bulled him across the room to a bare spot along the wall and slammed him against it.

"Oof!" Brad huffed as they pressed themselves hard against him. "You scared the crap outta me! What the hell do you ...?"

Clint interrupted him. "Want? What do we want? You fuckin' jerk. This is what we want!"

They were instantly swarming all over him, both kissing him, their tongues in his mouth, their hands roving all over him, groping, grabbing, probing every part of him they could get at.

Brad was yelping, trying to talk, but he couldn't because of their insistent kissing. Their touch and their pressure against him hurt all the blisters from the ant stings, made them burn and throb. It was crazy, it hurt like hell but at the same time felt so good. Fiery burning good.

"Whatsamatta?" Jimmy pulled his mouth away, laughing. He kissed Brad's nose, then his forehead, then licked his chin and cheeks.

"Mgglfripdipllglb!" Brad tried to say, Clint's tongue still deep in his mouth.

"Does it hurt, dream baby?" Jimmy teased him, pressing his aroused shaft against Brad's hip. "We'll make you feel so good you'll forget all about it."

Clint was humping his bulging crotch against Brad's own, and he pulled his mouth away, gasping for air. "Whoa! Damn, you feel so good, Brad. Taste even better. We've been dying to get our hands on you, you fucker. You actually think we're gonna look at you all day and not touch?"

"But fellas, I got these sores all over ..."

"Screw 'em," Jimmy said, as he and Clint both started undulating slowly and sensuously. "Doesn't this feel good? Perfect massage for blisters, huh? You couldn't possibly find anything that feels better than me and Clint. That's for fuckin' sure."

Brad pressed his head back against the wall. He knew they were right. He'd been aching so much to be with Saroh that he was ignoring the hot possibilities of being with them. So what if it burned? All in all, it'd feel a whole lot better than it hurt.

He nerved himself to keep Saroh out of his mind. "But what if somebody comes in here?" he hissed.

Jimmy snorted, and began to unbuckle Brad's belt. "We reserved the room. It's all ours."

"Reserved the fuckin' store room?" Brad croaked as Jimmy zinged down his zipper.

Clint was nibbling on Brad's earlobe. "Yup. And they're probably all out in the hall listening, so shut the fuck up."

Then he started kissing Brad again as Jimmy dropped down and pulled Brad's shorts and underwear to his ankles. His stiff dick wanged out and Jimmy grabbed it and squeezed it and Brad immediately yelped.

"Yikes! Be careful. I had some stings there too."

"Aw fuck." Clint pulled back from his kiss with another gasp. "Then for sure we gotta kiss it and make it feel better. Huh, jungle boy?"

"You bet, big white B'wana," Jimmy shot back. "Get yourself down here."

The next thing Brad knew is that Clint had dropped down next to Jimmy and they were both smooching on his erection, then laving it with their tongues, and then taking turns sucking on it in the sheathing moistness of their mouths. The mingling sensations of pleasure and stinging burn literally drove Brad up the wall. He was howling.

Jimmy stopped to breathe in a big gulp of air. "Ha! If anyone is listening, they're sure getting an earful."

Then they were on their way back up, kissing, biting, nibbling on every square inch of Brad as they arose. They feasted on his abs as if they were slabs of juicy bacon and, when their mouths stopped at his chest, Brad figured he had to be the luckiest boy in the world. Jimmy was sucking on one of his nipples and Clint on the other. At the same time, Jimmy was stroking Brad's dick and Clint was in the process of shoving two fingers up Brad's butt.

Brad was groaning, trying to keep the noise level down. He kept arching out at them as Clint pushed his fingers farther in and both he and Jimmy feasted on the muscleboy pecs. Brad unbuckled their belts and unzipped their zippers, then he squirmed to unfasten himself from them and slowly slid down the wall leaving them up above him. Then he pulled down their short pants and underwear and their two big dicks jabbed him in the face. Not knowing which one to go for first, Brad grabbed them both with his mouth and hungrily sucked them in as far as he could.

It was quite a mouthful.

Clint's and Jimmy's hands were suddenly on his head, in his hair, rubbing all over as they both pushed and pulled trying to ram all of both of them into Brad's eager mouth. He was loving the feel of it, the raw power and energy of it, these two amazing awesome guys who wanted him so badly.

Lost in the act of pleasuring them, Brad vaguely heard some mumbled words but had no idea what was said. But seconds later they pushed back and pulled their cocks from his mouth and dropped down to the floor alongside him. Then there proceeded something between a wrestling match, a scrimmage, and a grunt fest as they squirmed all over each other trying to pull each others' shoes and pants and underwear off from around their ankles.

They were hooting, snorting, laughing, humping, as they tossed shoes and shorts and underwear aside and rammed and bammed each other mercilessly. Brad saw Clint grab Jimmy's shorts and thrust his hand inside the front pocket and pull out the K-Y tube.

Whaddaya gonna do with that?" he blurted, one of his hands feeling Clint's abs, the other squeezing Jimmy's dick.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Clint hissed, suddenly grabbing Brad hard around the chest with both arms. "Just like I should've been doing since V-J Day last year."

"The hell you are, you son-of-a-gun," Brad feigned outrage, trying to wriggle free. "After you made me feel so lonely for so long? Made me ..."

But Clint and Jimmy just laughed at him and chugged him over to the corner where there was a pile of blankets laid out, obviously for this very purpose. They were tickling him and jabbing him and beating him on his head and shoulders, and poking him with their dicks.

The boys soon calmed down and stretched out on the blankets on their sides, Jimmy in front of Brad holding him in place for Clint. He hissed into Brad's ear, "Give Clint a break, huh? He feels really awful he was so distant to you since coming home from the war. It was driving him crazy, too, not being with you much all that time. But he was worried about you, your folks, the Hammond Laboratories ... all of it."

"I know. I was just kidding," Brad hissed back. "I gotta bust his balls a little bit, no?" With Clint behind him juicing up with the K-Y and Jimmy in front pressing his dick against him, Brad knew he could never be angry at either one of them.

Then he felt Clint's fingers spread his butt cheeks and dab a dollop of the lubricant on his hole. The sensation made him jerk forward and bang into Jimmy, who was now licking his face like he was a lollipop. Then Clint pushed two fingers up into Brad and juiced him up inside as Brad's mouth fastened back onto Jimmy's and they melded into each other in a deep-tongued kiss.

Then the fingers pulled out and Clint's dick slowly pushed in as his big muscular arms wrapped around Brad and grabbed onto Jimmy, who tightened closer holding onto both the other boys. Brad forgot all about the burning of the stings, and everything else too. All he knew was the searing beefy flesh of his two lovers pressing him in like a tightening vice, Jimmy's dick pressing hard against his own in front and Clint's pushing its way up his butt in back.

He let out a little yelp. It hurt. It'd been quite a while since Clint had done this to him.

"I'm sorry, buddy," Clint whispered, halting. "Guess it's been too long, huh? I ..."

Brad turned from Jimmy to look back. "No ... no! It's okay. We're just outta practice. Go on!"

Clint did go on. And it was feeling better already. Good. Damn good. Brad pressed his butt back against Clint as the bigger boy pressed forward, and they moved into a slow undulating rhythm that Jimmy also joined as he claimed Brad's mouth once again with his own.

They flowed together like the ripples in a stream, a slow moving beefy boy sandwich, grunting, groaning, sighing, moaning. Brad's and Jimmy's dicks were pressed together in a hot steamy frottage as they kissed each other into oblivion. Clint's cock moved up and down Brad's butt, in and out, smoothly sheathed in its tightness as he kissed Brad's neck and shoulders and grabbed Jimmy's arms and back, lost in the netherworld of the senses and the two boys he loved.

Brad felt he was spinning out somewhere. Oh how he had wanted this for so long! Clint's dick was banging his prostate and each hit sent incredible sensations up his loins and dick and throughout his body.

They began to move quicker together, the rhythm picked up. Their sighs and moans turned into growls. Their grips on each other tightened even more. Sensation wracked through Brad like an electrical current and he tore his mouth from Jimmy's and gasped for air. Jimmy grabbed their cocks and held them together tightly in his hand and began to stroke them as Clint continued to pound Brad from behind.

"Yoweeeeiiiiaaaeeee!"

Brad couldn't help it. His cry pierced out like the screech of a gull. He was on his way to an explosion the likes of which he could not fathom. His whole body was tingling and vibrating and the heat and force and passion building up inside was far beyond anything he'd ever experienced before.

They all three began a low guttural trill and it quickly grew into a savage manly wail, and anyone out in that below-deck hall would have had no question what was going on in that Balanga store room. In fact, Captain Redd told Yank Fulton later that evening that he had heard the boys shouting in ecstasy down below deck that afternoon. Caruso, too, heard them in the wheel house as he piloted the boat. And Rondin swore later on after dinner that he'd heard them way up in his perch on top of the mast.

Zinali, up in the galley, heard the cries from below and smiled from ear to ear. He knew he'd have to cook a really big dinner tonight. Those boys would need nourishment. And the only one who didn't hear them, of course, was McDonald in his noisy diesel engine room right down the narrow hall from them.

What the others all would've liked, surely, was to have seen the boys afterward – snuggled in the blankets, their beautiful bodies glistening with sweat, holding onto each other and nudging each other's faces, snorting and chuckling as they spent the twilight moments of lingering passion as only hot hunks in love with each other can ...

PHOTO above - Jimmy

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Thanks for reading! Photos of Clint on following page!

Check out LOST ISLAND, posted on this profile.