“Do you recommend that book?”
I turned and almost fell off the library ladder I was standing on to shelve a new French novel that had come in. I immediately recognized the speaker, even though it had been a month since I’d taken that memorable plane ride from San Francisco to Tokyo.
“I could,” I said as I turned, facing him, on the ladder. “I’ve read it.” His face was at the same level as my crotch and the possibilities of that had me going hard. I also felt a tightness in my breath. I’d like to be able to say I hadn’t thought about the black hunk since that flight, but, in fact, I’d done so several times.
“So, you can read French?” He was looking amused. He was also looking very good. In all white: shorts, cotton pullover shirt, socks, tennis shoes. He looked like he was on his way to play tennis, which maybe he was. He wouldn’t be on his way back from it. This was Bangkok. He’d be soaked in his sweat if he’d even played a set.
“Yes. My mother’s half French,” I answered.
“Ah, so maybe that’s what you were whispering in. I figured it was some foreign language.”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant about me murmuring in a foreign language. I’m sure I was out of my mind and not paying attention to what I was saying when he was covering me on those seats in the plane after he’d taken his hand off my mouth.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said. He was pulling in close to me, his mouth just inches from my crotch. Smiling up at me; knowing the effect he was having on me.
“I work here--through this summer before going back for college. My mother owns this bookstore.”
“I mean here in Bangkok. You didn’t say you were headed to Bangkok. My understanding was that you were going to Tokyo.”
“I did stop in Tokyo for a couple of days, and I said more than you did at the time, as I recall,” I answered. “I’d said something about the American Embassy Bangkok emblem on your shirt. If you’d answered, I probably would have said I was headed here too.”
“I’m with the Marine Guard at the embassy, up on Wireless. Corporal Collins. Ty to my friends. I think we know each other well enough to count ourselves as friends.”
I would have guessed something like the Marine Guard. Built like a fire hydrant. In such good shape that he had to be some sort of military. The Marines fit. “Acquaintances, at least,” I answered. “if not exactly friends. I think what we did was more like rutting dogs than a friendly exchange.”
“You seemed to like it.”
“Yes, I did. It was just what I needed at the time.”
“Because you were already missing that black bull who was pawing you at the airport?”
“Yes, something like that.”
“He as big as I am?”
Ah, male vanity setting in. “You are quite big enough,” I said. “My name is Julien.” I pronounced it French style. “Julien Kalimoka. And, as I’ve already said, I work here. But I go to Stanford. I’ll be back there in the fall.”
“What shit kinda name is Kalimoka?”
“Hawaiian. My dad’s Hawaiian. My mother is half French and half Vietnamese.”
“Which makes you all good lay,” he said, with a grin. “You gonna be in Bangkok much longer, I’d like to do you again. You liked it good enough for me to do you so I can lay you out better than in the plane and do you longer?”
“What a quaint way of putting it; you make me sound like a slab of meat with a hole in it,” I said, trying to put as much sarcasm in my delivery as possible. But then I added, “But I’d like that, yes.” And I wasn’t lying about that; I’d like that just fine. I’d been in Bangkok a month and hadn’t built up the nerve to go cruising myself--or taking Sri up on his offer to help.
“Maybe meet some of my friends. Do some good riding? Try some variety.”
He wasn’t going to stop being bald about it. I don’t know why I found that arousing, but I did. All so matter of fact. “That might be possible,” I answered. I found myself trembling. He had been the last one to fuck me and that was a month ago. I’d been all sorts of crazy--especially because of the times I’d encountered Sri walking around naked in my mother’s flat, not being the least reticent about showing himself off to me--and having told me he was bi--he or Marie making sure I read some of his poems. I’d taken many a cold shower in the last few weeks.
“Look, you make it sound so crass--like I’m a needy rent-boy or something. I’m not.”
“I know you’re not, but I also can see that it turns you on, talking like that. I can see that you’re hard for it. I’m off to tennis now,” Ty said, totally unabashed. “At the Thai Military Academy up where Sathon runs into Wireless. The embassy is up there on Wireless too.”
“Yes, I know where the embassy is,” I answered. We weren’t more than eight blocks from the embassy now--five blocks down Sathon from the military academy.
“But maybe you’d be interested in going to a swim party with me at the house of the head of JUSMAG on Saturday. A lot of freewheel cocking going on there.”
The U.S. Joint Military Assistance Group compound was just three blocks up from where we were at the bookstore. I’d seen many a squared-away American solider go in and out of that compound too.
I sighed. He wasn’t going to stop taking me for granted--and taking me for easy. But what could I say? I’d let a perfect stranger fuck me on a commercial airplane flight. “Yes, I’d like that,” I answered. Then I nearly fell off the ladder as, after he looked around, he came in close and nuzzled his cheek on my crotch.
He laughed. “Already hard for me.”
“You know I am,” I whispered.
“Pick you up here at 1:00 p.m. on Saturday. We can walk from here. Wear a sexy swim suit. Don’t plan on wearing it long.”
* * * *
I noticed three things when Ty walked me two blocks in on a cul-de-sac off Sathon between compound walls to the house he said was that of the chief of JUSMAG. The residence was in a small compound itself, which included a rambling stucco house embracing a large stone terrace, good-sized kidney-shaped swimming pool, and two monstrous-looking SUVs that looked like they were armored sitting in front of a double garage.
The first thing I noticed was that this was an all-male pool party. That didn’t really surprise me much; Ty had pretty much told me what kind of party to expect here. The second thing was that these men were already in full group fuck when Ty guided me into the gate with an arm possessively around my shoulders. The third was that those present were loosely divided into three groups: There were the built military guys, probably mostly Americans from JUSMAG and the embassy Marine guards, but also maybe some from other European and UN military contingents in the country; there were the Thai rent-boys contracted to serve them, which included a fair number of transvestites; and there were what seemed to be the Thai protectors of this activity--Thai military officers and politicians, generally of an older age, both fucking the Thai rent-boys and being fucked by and in the pool by Western soldier hunks.
Among the latter category, to my surprise, I saw Sri over in a corner of the patio, covering a small Thai with a woman’s face, hair, and tits but a man’s small cock, stretched full length on the transvestite on a pool bed and fucking him/her in long strokes. I probably shouldn’t have been that surprised. I’d seen a Mercedes just like his parked out on Sathon near the entrance of the street running back to this compound. The chauffeur was leaning into the fender of the car, but was turned away from me so that I didn’t identify him as Sri’s driver.
I barely had time to take in all of the sex that was happening in and around the pool before Ty said, “Let’s go into the house and change into our suits.”
We only made it as far as a bedroom hallway near the back of the house, before Ty grabbed me, shoved me up against the wall, pulled my T-shirt over my head, and took my mouth in a kiss.
“Before anyone else here gets to you,” I heard him mutter as we came up for air, and he was unbuckling and unzipping my shorts and pushing the shorts and the briefs underneath down to the floor. His kiss moved down my throat and onto my nipples as one of his hands worked my cock and the other one released his so that he could work them together with that hand. Then he was pushing me on my knees between him and the wall, and I was sucking his cock. Big, black, throbbing.
He pulled me up by my hair and possessed my mouth again with his, his hands busy cupping and squeezing my buttocks and getting fingers from both hands inside me. I panted and groaned. Singles and couples passed us in the hallway and did no more than stop briefly to watch, smack their lips, and whistle before moving on with whatever hedonist activity they were involved in. A few voiced a “New meat, Ty?” or a “Can you sign me for his card later, Ty?” or an ominous “Want to do him together later, Ty?” but moving on in their turn when Ty no more than growled at them without pausing in working my body and opening my passage to his specifications.
“Climb my hips. Open up,” Ty growled and, separating my butt cheeks with his hands and pushing me up the wall by my buttocks, he set his bulb at my entrance. At his repeated command, I lifted my legs, with my knees hooked on his hips, dug my fingernails into his biceps, buried my face in the hollow of his neck, and held on for dear life, as he skewered me and began to pump.
“Way to go; give it to him hard,” a voice called out as someone passed us in the hall.
Ty gave it to me hard.
“Sweet piece. Work him hard,” came from another passing voice.
Ty worked my ass hard. Harder than Kwame ever had. Harder than any man ever had.
I had come up his belly and had felt him jerk and come in his condom too, but he was still pumping me, when the door to a bedroom beside where Ty was moving my body up and down the wall with the strength of his cock opened, and a bald-headed black bull giant emerged, turning in the opening of the door toward us, and paused.
He must have been six seven or eight, with a massive, footballer’s body. All well-defined muscle, veins running just below the surface of chocolate-brown skin because there was no fat on him. Solid, not trim, but perfectly, massively proportioned. Rugby-player thighs. The face handsome, features cut, demeanor commanding, self-assured. A bullet head on a thick neck. He was wearing a black Speedo with a bulging crotch. Even at a possible forty in age, he was a god to take a bottom’s breath away--or make him faint in anticipation.
“Ty,” he muttered, and Ty nodded to him, the pumping of his cock inside me lessening but not yet ceasing.
“This the new punch you told me about?”
“Yes, Major,” Ty answered.
“Cute. He taking it well?”
“Yes, real well.”
“Bring him in here.”
“Yes, Major,” Ty responded to a retreating back. He pushed my knees down, signaling that I was to stand, and his cock lost position inside me. He put his forehead against mine. “You’re a good lay, Julien. Give Major Ten Two in there a good ride, you hear? He’s the host here. Ride him good, and he’ll invited you back for more pool parties.”
“Major Ten Two? What kind of name is that?” I asked.
“You’ll find out.”
Find out I did, but there was no occasion for me to ride him that day. He did all of the riding--interminably.
And I found out quick enough that the “Ten Two” were cock stats of pride. I didn’t see him when I entered the room. That’s because he was behind me and reached out and spun me half around with a vice grip on my arm. He’d stripped off his Speedo and was in magnificent erection. I moaned at the brief look I had of him then. The “ten” had to be for length and the “two” for girth.
“On the floor, on all fours,” he barked. He covered me and held me close, me writhing under him, as he took a good long time stuffing that Ten Two in me despite Ty having already opened me with an unusually thick cock. He fucked me to an ejaculation, his a long time after mine. When I thought he was done, he wasn’t. He pulled me over to the end of the bed, where he sat, forced me to kneel between his massive thighs, and made me clean and service his cock to another erection.
He came up with wrist restraints from somewhere on the bed, bound my wrists together, pulled me up and turned me facing away from him, lapped me on his cock, and bounced me up and down on the shaft to another pair of spoutings.
I was already exhausted when that was done, but the major wasn’t done yet. He pulled me up on the bed on my belly, fished a strap from the floor that was tied to the upper right bed pillar, and fastened this to my wrist restraints. Mounting my ass from on top he rode, rode, rode me until I was beyond exhaustion, barely conscious, drooling, and whimpering.
The next I realized when I was coming out of the state of semiconscious exhaustion the major had put me in was that someone was sitting in a chair across from the side of the bed, but in my view. My wrists had been released, but I was still pretty much spread-eagled and pressed into the mattress of the bed on my belly in the position the major had left me in.
As my eyes focused, I realized that it was Sri sitting there, dressed as elegantly as always, looking at me with a gaze of slight amusement. My shorts, T, briefs, and Speedo were folded on his lap.
“Welcome back. I see you’ve met the major. He told me he was pleased.”
I groaned and tried to sit up but then thought better of it, deciding I’d try again in another half minute or so.
“Come, my car is down the lane. I’ll drive you home.”
He did so, leaving me at the entrance of the apartment house, not suggesting that there need be anything to tell my mother. Not suggesting that he’d ask to get anything out of this either.
It hit me as I pressed the elevator button, that I’d bought a new, sexy Speedo and hadn’t had the chance to use it--or the swimming pool at the major’s compound. I wasn’t sure I could survive another invitation to an afternoon’s swim there, though.
Although I did go back--by invitation--to the major’s house for a swim and a fuck, it was never for a party; it was just the two of us. And I did get around to riding the major’s monster cock as he lay on his back, arms folded behind his neck, and gazing at me through slitted eyes. I didn’t see Ty again that summer in Bangkok.