Kennel Opening

"Wait for it, lad," Graham Morris whispered to Benji, as they both watched the hulking young man being pulled in multiple directions by five Cavalier King Charles spaniels in Graham's direction across a patch of grassland above the Tauranga beach. It was Saturday morning and the bit of parkland adjacent to the New Zealand coastal town's beach was designated as a dog exercise area on Saturday mornings.

Sitting in the shade of an open-sided café between beach and park, Graham knew about the Saturday hours. He also knew that the strapping young man, David Kauea, had a big bunch of spaniels. Graham couldn't have told you they were Cavalier King Charles spaniels, though, or that four of the ones that Kauea had had been New Zealand national champions. But he knew, from research, that Kauea brought them here on Saturdays. Graham was proud of the research he had done since the first time he'd seen the hunky New Zealander.

Beyond that, he knew what Kauea's sexual preferences were, that they complemented his, and that he wanted to try the young man out. Graham was an American, displaced to New Zealand by a frowning family in Baltimore because it was as far away in the world as they could send him. He was content to leave the States and stay in New Zealand because of the checks they regularly sent. He thought the joke was on them, though, because New Zealand's north island was a whole hell of a lot better place to be than Baltimore, Maryland, was in his estimation. And New Zealand men were a lot hunkier.

His eyes slitted as he saw the young man struggle across the parkland in his direction. The five spaniels that were dragging him along-surprisingly good at dragging as small as they were individually and as large as Kauea was-each had a different idea where they wanted to go. The young man's body was magnificent, nearly bursting out of his shorts and T-shirt with bulges of finely formed muscle. Graham wondered how much native Maori was in him. It seemed to be enough to give him bulk and a slightly mean look that belied a gentle temperament until he was lost in want, without making him prone to the big belly that seemed to characterize the more genetically pure Maori.

Benji was a spaniel too. But he was an English spaniel rather than a Cavalier King Charles spaniel. Graham could tell there was a difference, but he didn't really care. He didn't even care whether or not Benji was as pure bred as Kauea's dogs were. A dog was a dog and a spaniel was a spaniel to him, and he was counting on one spaniel being highly interested in meeting another one.

"Now, Benji," Graham said as he leaned down from the seat he was occupying at the fringe of the café and unleashed Benji.

As designed, the English Spaniel was off in a flash. And mere seconds later, Kauea's spaniels no longer were in a disagreement where they wanted to go. As soon as they saw Benji bounding toward them, they all pulled together in that direction. This nearly knocked David Kauea off his feet, despite having feet the size of boats, and he was dragged along toward the café.

Graham made a half-hearted attempt to rise and follow Benji, and he cried out in fake distress, as Benji disappeared in a pile of wriggling dog flesh.

It took David and Graham several minutes to get the dogs separated, during which David was profusely apologizing and expressing the hope that Benji wasn't damaged. Of course he wasn't. The dogs just wanted to do a meet and greet. But Graham did his best rendition of being frightened and concerned for his poor puppy.

"It's not your fault, of course," he said, doing what he could to make his voice sound shaky and unconvinced. He knelt beside Benji and felt the spaniel all over for damage that he'd have no idea what to do about even if he did find any. Benji panted and licked Graham's face, happy for the attention. Graham had a passing thought that he'd like the young Maori hunk to be doing that. "This leash has been giving me the slip. I'll need to get a new one."

"Here, let me check him over." David knelt down beside Graham and laid his hands on Benji. The spaniel liked his touch even better and turned his tongue on the young man. Graham made sure that his hand brushed on David's a couple of times while they both checked Benji over, and he liked the smile that David gave him in return.

"There doesn't seem to be any damage-to your dog at least. You seem a little shaky, though. Can I help you back to your table?"

You certainly can, you big hunk, Graham thought, but he actually answered with a weak, "That would be very kind."

Truth be known, Graham didn't give a shit about Benji. Benji wasn't Graham's dog. He belonged to some bird named Jill, who lived near a bar Graham frequented and who managed to be coming out of her condo building whenever Graham was parking his red sports convertible across the street from her building-and who was too dumb to realize that the club Graham frequented was a gay bar. She obviously liked the look of Graham, though-and Graham was, indeed, very easy on the eyes for his age. She was the first one Graham had thought of when he heard that David Kauea raised spaniels. Graham thought of her because it was a spaniel she was always pretending to walk when Graham was parking on her street.

It was a piece of cake for Graham to get the young David to help him back to his chair in the café-and then to sit with him and to share a cup of coffee. In fact, hooking up with David proved to be very easy indeed. Graham almost regretted that he'd done so much scheming to set up the meeting.

The man was randy, open, and forward, obviously very casual about his sexuality.

In addition to coffee, they also shared a discussion of what brought them to the seaside town of Tauranga on New Zealand's Bay of Plenty, to the south of the main city of the north island, Auckland. David Kauea was born and raised nearby, a good many of his ancestors having been Maori warriors, as indigenous to the island as anyone had ever been. He was an accountant and raised and showed Cavalier King Charles spaniels. He had eight of them. He'd only brought five of them out today. He was gay, a top, liked to fuck casually, and he thought that Graham looked just fine.

Graham, in contrast, was about as foreign to New Zealand as he could be. Banished by his stodgy old-line-Maryland family in the United States for being devil may care about his sexual proclivities, he had washed up on the shores of New Zealand with a pile of cash and a taste in wine. Bored in New Zealand doing little but seducing muscle-bound tops in gyms, he had combined his cash with wine and now owned a winery, Morris Estates, along the coast to the north of Tauranga. His taste in good wine, better wine than he produced, almost-almost-competed with his taste in hunky men to cover and ride him. Neither man seemed to be holding anything back in their discussion.

Tauranga was in the well-established Gisborne wine region, notable for its Chardonnay, Chenin Blanc, Gewürztrammer, and Riesling wines, all of which Graham enjoyed drinking more than he did creating, bottling, and selling. Luckily, he had bought his vineyard lock, stock, vines, bottling room, vintner, and tasting room inclusive and the vineyard operations more or less took care of and paid for themselves.

Just to get it out of the way, Graham voiced a concern: Whereas David was in his late twenties, Graham recently had hit forty. Graham enthusiastically responded that he liked plowing men in Graham's age bracket.

Switching to beer from coffee, the discussions between the two deepened to even more intimate levels than their respective occupations and their mutual love for spaniels and to their deepest, darkest secrets and what they preferred to do in bed. Positions, bareback or condoms, favorite toys, frequency, and where to deposit cum. David proved to be even more devil may care about revealing his sexual proclivities than Graham was. Graham found the sensual openness of the young man both refreshing and highly arousing.

"You look familiar," Graham said, sitting back in his chair and feigning a look of contemplation and scrutiny. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

"Perhaps at Pauli's? I must admit I've seen you there."

"Ah, yes," Graham answered, knowing full well he'd seen the young man at that gay club. "Now I remember. I've seen you with Andrew, one of Pauli's dancers, I believe."

"Yes," David admitted. "Andrew is a sweet fuck. And I believe I've seen you with the construction worker, George. He receives good ratings. I trust he does you well."

"Right," Graham responded.

"I'll bet I could do you better, though," David said, with a twinkle in his eye.

Graham nearly sputtered in his beer. Who was supposed to be seducing who, he wondered. Why the fuck did he think he'd need the dog subterfuge? It took no more than that for the two to square away not only on sexual preference but on sexual role. Andrew, the dancer, was a bottom and George, the construction worker, was a top.

David leaned down and patted Benji. "A fine spaniel you have. I raise and breed spaniels."

"Which is why you have five of them, I suppose," Graham said, using his most attractive smile, and he gave what he hoped was a loving look at the five slobbering spaniels sniffing around Benji with continued interest. Benji was sniffing a couple of them back. Graham assumed these were the bitches.

"I actually have eight."

"Do tell. You must be a very good breeder."

David lowered his face and gave a little smile. Graham chose to imagine that the gesture was meant to move his attention to the young man's basket, where something was straining mightily at the material of his tight shorts.

"My family would have no dogs if they couldn't have spaniels," Graham said in a low voice. It wasn't a lie. Graham's family had had nothing but cats.

Of course, for David Kauea's part, that Graham was a claimed lover of spaniels sealed the deal when push came to shove-although neither found anything in the looks of the other or in a quick and guarded grope that dissuaded either from being interested in the other.

The grope was preceded with Graham rather boldly bringing the conversation to a head by saying, "Yes, I believe you must be a superior breeder. Is it only dogs that you breed?"

And then when David raised his head and gave Graham "that look," Graham continued with, "I admit openly that I would be very interested in your breeding technique." He took David's hand in his and placed it on his crotch. David didn't withdraw the hand. "Would you mind terribly if I touched you too?" Graham asked.

"No," David answered, turning a steely gaze on Graham. "Would you mind terribly if I fucked you? The truth is that George told me you were a really good lay and that you liked to take it hard and deep. I like to give it that way."

Graham melted at how straightforward the New Zealander was.

Agreeing with Graham that Graham's vineyard was probably too far beyond Tauranga to assuage the heat they'd worked themselves into, Kauea took Graham back to the rather large lot but decidedly small house for one man and eight dogs in a suburb of Tauranga overlooking the Bay of Plenty and, bedroom door closed to barking dogs, David fucked Graham to slobbering oblivion just as the American had carefully planned he would do.

As Graham would have guessed, David preferred fucking doggy style, with Graham bent over the bed, resting his weight on his elbows and forearms, while David held his hips in a strong grip with his hands and fucked him in long, hard, deep thrusts. Graham loved it. David seemed to like it enough to do it three times that day before a grinning Graham limped home after delivering a happy Benji back to a not completely happy Jill, confused on why an offer to walk her Benji had spun out to six hours and didn't end with anything more than a "Thanks." Benji was also looking quite pleased with himself, having left three of David's bitches glassy eyed and whimpering.

Graham was around nine weeks later when two of the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel bitches produced pups that weren't fully pure bred. David wasn't wild about that idea, but since he'd happily kept Graham's eyeballs swimming in cum and Graham had been paying most of his bills for those nine weeks, David went with the flow.

The touchiest moment came when David offered Graham one of the puppies. "To remember your poor, lost Benji with," he had said. Graham had had to weave a story of Benji having suffered his demise under a bus a few days after they had initially met.

"I couldn't possibly yet," Graham answered. "It takes me a long time to get over the loss of a pet."

"But the best way is to acquire another one," David said.

"But I have all of your lovely dogs to compensate." Graham nearly choked on that. He'd had David's yapping dogs almost up to the level of the cum David had pumped in him. When the levels met, Graham thought that would be all he could take despite how divinely and forcefully the young Maori cocked him.

This led to another conversation, though. Graham really liked David and being fucked regularly by David, but Graham was getting antsy about being confined to New Zealand's north island.

"I've been thinking of traveling some-in Southeast Asia and maybe even in Europe. I don't want to go alone, though. I'd like you to go with me. I'll pay for everything, of course."

The mention of Southeast Asia caused David to pause. He'd often thought he'd like to travel there if he were free to do so. He had a fetish for small Southeast Asian men-thoroughly enjoying stuffing his big cock in the tight channels of small, brown men to listen to them puffing hard to accommodate him. But he wasn't free. "I couldn't possibly go anywhere for even an overnight. I've told you that's why we have to meet here," David answered. "I've got eight dogs to take care of."

"You could leave them in a kennel."

"There are no good kennels in the Tauranga area. And the cost of kenneling eight dogs would be astronomical."

"I told you I'd pay for everything," Graham said. "And I'd really like for you to travel with me." What he really liked was having David's cock inside him and he'd like to have that while he traveled too.

"Well, as I said, there are no kennels here I'd entrust my dogs to. It's a real failing of this area."

Graham came from a business family. He heard the "Ka-ching" of possibility immediately. "You could open a kennel yourself. Set it up to your liking. Hire someone to do all the shit work and to watch over it while you're traveling."

"It's a thought, but-" David said, obviously giving it a thought.

"I'd partner with you. I'd supply the start-up capital." Graham really liked having David's cock inside him.

"Well, it's a thought."

"I know how you could get someone both cheap and reliable. A Thai or a Filipino would be just the ticket. Provide them with work permit employment here, and they'd work like a slave for you and be totally grateful."

"Well . . ." David's imagination went to holding a small Thai or Filipino man under him in a tight embrace while he worked his supersized cock inside a small hole and listened to the impassioned squealing. He hadn't told Graham about this fetish, though.

"I have connections through the international winery association in both countries. I'll be happy to make enquires for you," Graham persisted.

"Well, it's a thought."

"While you're thinking about it, could you fuck me again?"

"Of course."

* * * *

Mr. Crozier called me from the main house and told me he wanted me to come there and see him. I knew what that meant. I was only half way through feeding the dogs and mucking out their cages, so he told me to come when I was done. I could tell he wasn't pleased I couldn't come right away. Neither was I. I was trembling in anticipation. The dogs-six German Shepherds-were restless, though, and when they were like this, I had to be very careful.

They were usually good with me. I handled the guard dogs well, the dogs that guarded the tapioca warehouses at the company plantation near Khon Kaen, upcountry from Bangkok. But sometimes the dogs could sense when I was keyed up, in a hurry to be finished with them. They rarely got human affection and craved it-so they didn't like when I didn't spend as much time with them as usual.

It was nearly dark when I approached the main house. Mr. Crozier lived here alone. He managed the plantation and the warehouses for the company, the only Farang--foreigner--here. The other workers were scattered around in huts across the plantation. Only the housekeeper and the cook were allowed in the main house-and me.

Mr. Crozier was like a god in our enclosed little world here. Whatever he told one of the workers to do, they did. The wages were very good for upcountry Thailand, and the local government supported this foreign enterprise in whatever it wanted to do. But like anywhere else in Thailand, there were those who owned and those who were owned. I was one who was owned. Mr. Crozier had told me what my duties were in addition to taking care of the kennels for the guard dogs-and I did what he wanted without question. It was strange and painful at first, but now I wanted it as much as he did.

I moved silently up the ladder to the house. The house was much the same as any Thai house upcountry. Just larger. They were all lifted up on stilts, both because the area flooded and to keep most of the jungle wildlife out of the house. The housekeeper, Lek, lived under the house. She, of course, knew that I visited Mr. Crozier. But neither of us ever mentioned it. I knew what Mr. Crozier sometimes did with Lek too. But neither of us ever mentioned that either.

Mr. Crozier could do whatever he pleased. Over time, it came to please me too.

He was sitting on the side of his bed in the dimming light when I entered his bedroom. He was wearing just a sarong around his waist. His heavily muscled torso always made my breath catch and come in small ragged gasps. He had a dragon tattoo on one side of his chest, the tail of which went up to his shoulder and wound down around his arm. I liked tracing the tail of the dragon when I was lying under him. He was drinking bourbon straight from the bottle, and when he saw me at the door to his bedroom, he leaned over and put the bottle on his nightstand, turned back to me, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and motioned to me.

"Come in, Chumphon. Come here. You have made me wait."

He had a gruff tone, but I knew he wouldn't beat me as a Thai master displeased with me would do. He would do something else altogether. He was motioning me with his hand to come to him, and I moved across the teak boards on my small bare feet. I too was wearing just a sarong around my waist. But his was raw silk and mine was cheap cotton.

"Sorry, Mr. Crozier," I answered, meekly and with some trepidation. "The dogs were restless and difficult this evening."

"No matter, lad," he said. "You're here now. Waiting just made me harder."

He pulled me into him, between his spread thighs, and embraced me. His mouth was on my belly, kissing it, and the palms of his hands went to my buttocks. He was massaging them as his lips moved around on my belly. I felt the cotton of my sarong drift to the teak flooring as the bare flesh of his hands cupped my buttocks. Kneading them and spreading them. I moaned deeply as the index fingers of both hands found the rim of my anus. He laughed at my little gasp when they entered me.

Then his hands were lifted to my sides and he was pressing me down on my knees between his legs. I unknotted his silk sarong and let it fall to either side. He was hard. Our manager, Mr. Crozier, was aroused-for me. That always made me feel special-and privileged to be able to serve him in this way.

I took his member into my mouth and pleasured him until I felt him raise me with hands on my waist and turn me. As always, I panted, my mouth gaping open and my body shuddering, as he pulled me down into his lap and on his shaft. When he was buried deep inside me, he embraced me closely with his arms, one of his hands encasing and slowly stroking me, and kissed all over my back as he rocked me back and forth. This had brought me great pain at first, but he had taken me this way so often now that my passageway had stretched to fit him. He was big and I was small, but now we were a good fit.

In time, he began to raise and lower me on the shaft with his strong, calloused hand. Faster and faster, pulling me onto him hard, and deeper. He was panting hard and mumbling words I hardly was able to hear through my grunts and groans as he stretched and chafed the shimmering walls of my passageway with his hard, throbbing staff.

I gave him my seed before he released his. And then he continued holding me there as both of us went soft. I knew this was not the last of what he would want from me.

It was during this interlude in which he always told me how much he liked little brown bodies-mine especially. And this time was no exception. But this time he said more and what he said brought me to tears.

". . . and so you must leave the plantation, Chumphon."

"I don't understand, Mr. Crozier. I don't understand why."

"My wife is coming out to join me. I've told you this-that there must be changes."

"But only in where we meet, surely," I answered, trying to keep the sob out of my voice. "I am sorry if I have displeased you. I will-"

"You haven't displeased me, Chumphon. But you cannot be here when my wife arrives. The others will talk. Surely she will learn of you. You understand that, don't you?"

"If you say I must go, then I must go," I answered. But it was with great sadness. I had no idea how I would find a job as good as this one. I already was missing the dogs. And my mother's kitchen had burned down. She expected me to pay for a new one to be built.

"You needn't worry, though, Chumphon. I have arranged a new job for you. In New Zealand. You know where that is, don't you? I'm sure you've always wanted to travel abroad."

I didn't know where it was. It didn't sound like it was any of the nearby villages. Perhaps somewhere nearer to Bangkok, I thought. But I didn't tell Mr. Crozier I had never dreamed of going anywhere but Khon Kaen, and I dared not show any disappointment. It was more than I had a right to expect that he had arranged another job for me. But what kind of job? All I knew of was taking care of dogs.

And, as if he had read my mind, he answered that. "You will still be working with dogs. You will be helping to run a kennel of dogs. You will just be doing it in a whole new world."

I couldn't even fathom at the time what he meant about a whole new world. But he certainly was right about that.

And I no longer was giving this much thought. I felt him coming alive inside me again, and he turned me and pushed me up onto his bed on my back and was kneeling between my thighs. I arched my back and reached my arms out to grab fistfuls of his rough-texture bedspread and to sigh and moan as he began to rhythmically thrust himself inside me once more. One of my hands went to his chest and traced the dragon's tail down his arm-for the last time.

One last time, as he already had a plane ticket for me to leave the next day.

* * * *

Chumphon had been at the Kauea Kennels for nearly three weeks before he observed something that made his heart race. His new job was great even though this island wasn't anything like the Thailand upcountry he came from. He had little trouble with the language, as Mr. Crozier had made him improve the English he'd taken in school. Mr. Crozier certainly wasn't going to bother to learn Thai. But otherwise Chumphon felt completely out of place. The terrain was so different-not that he'd traveled enough to feel this was an island. He'd been to the beaches of Phataya, and the beach at Tauranga was much the same even if the buildings and foliage were different.

But the people were very much different. All of them Farangs, like Mr. Crozier, if friendlier and less demanding than Mr. Crozier. But Chumphon guessed he was the Farang  here, not them.

Mr. Kauea was overwhelming, although he certainly was friendly. He was even bigger than Mr. Crozier was and not quite the Farang  that Mr. Crozier was-or that his older friend, Mr. Morris was. But he was different in a disturbing way. Not exactly disturbing. More the same feelings that came over Chumphon when Mr. Crozier called Chumphon to his house. Mr. Kauea didn't talk to Chumphon the same way he talked to other people when they were around. And there was something in that like how Mr. Crozier had talked differently to Chumphon than he did to other workers on the tapioca plantation. And Mr. Kauea touched Chumphon when he was talking to him-just like Mr. Crozier had.

Mr. Kauea was a little darker than the other Farangs  here. And of larger stature. Something that seemed closer to New Zealand's own sense of wildness and primitive instincts. Something more of the island's history than people like Mr. Morris was, who spoke almost an entirely different language than Mr. Kauea did, even though they were both speaking a form of English and seemed readily able to understand each other-well, most of the time, and certainly better than Chumphon, with his rudimentary English, could understand either one of them.

When Chumphon could take his mind-and, often, his fantasies-away from Mr. Kauea, they turned to what occupied most of his days and evenings-the dogs. In these terms, Chumphon could only say he was delighted in the change in his life. He had loved his German Shepherds, but they had been trained to be guard dogs and thus were something to carefully fear and respect as well as to love. The spaniels Mr. Kauea owned, on the other hand, were bundles of happiness and slobbering love. There were other dogs at the kennel from time to time, owned by other people in the region who were leaving them while they traveled, but it was Mr. Kauea's spaniels alone that made Chumphon's new life a delight.

The only downside to this life was that Chumphon missed the attention that Mr. Crozier had given him-more than he ever imagined he would. Mr. Crozier hadn't courted him in any way. He had just told Chumphon what he wanted when Chumphon came to work on the tapioca plantation. Few Thai living upcountry had a choice in where or whether they would work. It was a privilege just to have work. Mr. Crozier had just taken from Chumphon what he wanted. Chumphon had wondered about this, but Lek had told him that Mr. Crozier had done the same with her-that all Farangs in the upcountry just took what they wanted from Thai people, and that this was the way of the upcountry. Chumphon had not even thought of objecting or resisting. And now Chumphon was surprised at how much he'd come to want it.

Which brought his mind back to the hulking Mr. Kauea he now worked for.

Chumphon had little expectation that he could receive the same attention from Mr. Kauea that he had from Mr. Crozier until that day he went to the house at the kennel to report that one of the spaniels seemed to be limping. As he passed the side of the house, he heard noises from inside and spied them through the open window. The older man, Mr. Morris, was leaning over a bed on his elbows and Mr. Kauea was fucking Mr. Morris from behind-like a dog, like the muscular, overpowering German Shepherds Chumphon had seen breeding at the kennel in Thailand. Both men were naked.

Both were large-boned as Mr. Crozier had been and were not as sun-kissed dark skinned on their upper thighs and groins as they were elsewhere. Chumphon had found this strange and intriguing-and, yes, a bit arousing. Thai people were dark all over. They didn't have their manhood and their buttocks emphasized by whiter skin around it.

The young Thai stood, mesmerized, by the size and power of the New Zealander and by the sounds of pained passion coming from the older man, as he bent over the bed, legs spread, fists digging into the bedding, and tongue hanging out on a face with eyes glazed over in ecstasy.

Mr. Kauea was the largest-built man down there Chumphon had ever seen, and it seemed impossible that Mr. Morris could take it all as it repeatedly withdrew and then thrust back inside, sending Mr. Morris' body to shuddering and jerking. But take it Mr. Morris did. And from the older man's reactions while he was taking it, Chumphon decided that he wanted it too. The thought of his own slight body taking it frightened Chumphon. He remembered how long it had taken him to sheath Mr. Crozier's staff without constant pain fighting with the pleasure, and Mr. Kauea was much larger than Mr. Crozier. But still Chumphon wanted it. And he had adjusted to the size of Mr. Crozier. In time he could adjust to the size of Mr. Kauea too, he was confident.

That evening, he came to Mr. Kauea as he had come to Mr. Crozier, silently, on bare feet, and only with a cotton sarong wrapped around his waist.

Mr. Kauea was sitting on the side of his bed, dressed only in sleeping shorts. His body was magnificent, muscular, bronze-skinned, and with primitive native tattooing that made Chumphon's heart race with the image of coming to him to perform some primordial rite.

The massive New Zealander looked up to see Chumphon standing in the doorway in the dim light. If he was surprised, he showed no evidence of it. Indeed, he reacted as if their coupling was inevitable. Later, when they spoke of what they had done, how Mr. Kauea had used Chumphon's body repeatedly, Mr. Kauea had said that if Chumphon had not come to him, he would have come for Chumphon. He had asked Chumphon if that would have made the young Thai angry or unwilling, Chumphon had not been able to understand what he was asking. Mr. Kauea was his employer; Chumphon would give him anything he wanted.

As he had stood in the door, neither man spoke, but heavy breathing could be heard from both sides of the room. Chumphon worried the knot of the sarong at his waist and it fell to the floor in folds. His erection told David all he would need to know of Chumphon's want and intention. His berry-brown body was perfectly formed, paling in size, though, to that of the New Zealander. David's breath came even heavier as he thought of the massiveness of his cock working the passageway of such a small, perfectly formed man. It was his fetish. A man couldn't do anything about the fetishes he had.

The New Zealander lifted his hips off the surface of the bed enough to slide his sleeping shorts off.

It was Chumphon's turn to gasp and take great gulps of air-Chumphon's turn for his channel to twitch at the expectation of that big, erect club possessing him fully. If anything, it was more massive than Chumphon had believed it to be when it was poking Mr. Morris' hole. He began to tremble and to moan softly.

David extended a hand and said the only words expressed in the room for the next hour. "Come to me, if you will. Don't, if you are afraid. It is your choice. It may not be possible, but I want to try. If it's not possible, though, I'm not sure you can remain here. The temptation is too much."

Chumphon was very much afraid. Mr. Crozier would not have given him a choice; he would have just made Chumphon take it. And from what Mr. Kauea was saying, it wasn't really a choice here either. He would lose his job. But in this case, Chumphon himself wanted it too much for there to be but one choice. This new world Chumphon had moved into was so much more arousing than Thailand and the tapioca plantation had been.

The young Thai cried out in pain and ecstasy as he bent over the bed and Mr. Kauea covered him from behind and slowly worked his thick, long cock inside Chumphon's slowly yielding channel. Mr. Crozier had opened him up, but there was so much more work to be done to accommodate Mr. Kauea.

There was a time when each believed Chumphon's passage just could not accommodate the size of the cock, but both worked hard at it with grunts and groans, both wanting it. And then, miracle of miracles, Chumphon felt his passage relaxing and stretching, and the shaft was sliding up inside him. He cried out so loudly in the effort that howls went up from the kennels behind the house. Neither of the men cared. The music of the dogs lent atmosphere to the primordial rite of taking and receiving. Being primitively fucked like a dog, as, fully saddled, David started his plowing in earnest.

The fuck became wild, David thrusting hard, deep, rapidly, but daring not to pull more than half way out of the channel for fear it would close again. But the young Thai wanted the deep possession, a connection he had never experienced with Mr. Crozier. At the height of passion, Davie buried a fist in Chumphon's thick, black hair and arched the young man's back, pulling his head up to David's bulging pecs, as he thrust, thrust, thrust.

Chumphon came with a great cry, and the rhythm of the fuck changed, became slower, slid deeper, withdrew further before gliding back in. Chumphon's passage had been reamed to David's specifications and he would never have the trouble saddling the young Thai again that he had initially. Three further takings that night would establish the fit forever.

David wrapped an arm around Chumphon's waist and rose up, away from the bed. The exhausted, but moaning and sighing body of Chumphon hung limply, bent over, buttocks nestled into David's groin, feet off the floor and arms and legs dangling in front of him, as the strong, virile New Zealander continued to fuck him in long slides until, with a weak yip sound Chumphon came again, his cum dribbling down his thighs.

Only then, with a great Maori warrior cry, did Kauea release his seed in three prodigious bursts, the cry setting the dogs in the kennel to howling once more.

Chumphon slept in David's bed that night and every night afterward, fully content in this new life of his, growing accustomed to the gentle touch of the young Maori's fingers in the night that coaxed Chumphon to rise on all fours to be fucked again like a dog. Chumphon never once thought of denying the other man's pleasure-his pleasure as well.

* * * *

"Well, hello, who is that?" Graham asked as he unfolded himself from his special production Zetini Haast Barchetta sports car as David stepped down from the front porch of his house. Down the hill, by the corner of the kennels, a young man was loading two sleek Airedales into a Land Rover.

"I wondered when you'd discover Clark," David said, as he walked over to the red sports car. "I'm surprised you haven't run across him at Pauli's. I think you'd find him . . . invigorating. He's every bit as good as George is."

Graham turned and gave David a sharp look. "That's what I find so unique about you," he said. "There isn't a jealous bone in your body." It also, he didn't want to reveal, was one of the aspects to David Kauea he found to be maddening. He wanted a man to care enough for him to be jealous. "You wouldn't care if I walked down there and he fucked me on the hood of his Land Rover, would you?"

"Not if it was what the two of you wanted to do. I don't waste time on sexual games and petty jealousies," David said. "I take the gifts that life brings me gladly and don't resent others doing likewise. You don't think you are the only man I'm fucking, do you?"

He was looking downhill and Graham followed his line of sight. The young Thai kennel helper Graham had tracked down for David had four of the short-term dogs on leashes and was taking them for a walk. The older American felt a surge of jealously. But he was careful not to say the first response that came to his mind-or any response, for that matter. He didn't want what he was getting from David to stop. But he did let the matter seethe in his mind.

So that's how it is, he thought. I was afraid of that. David is fucking the cute little Thai piece I bought for him. I should have known better. I don't remember there being any female kennel workers available, though.

"Would you like me to arrange a hook-up with Clark?" David continued in a calm voice as if he had no idea what Graham was thinking-or that he didn't care. "I think he would enjoy you as much as you would enjoy him. In fact, I can hardly wait to enjoy you again myself."

"No thank you. I'm a one man at a time type man," Graham answered, not being able to resist any longer. He had answered this way on purpose-as both a challenge and an admonition, but if David caught the challenge, he didn't reveal it, or rise to it. David was such a simple, open sort of guy. He made Graham feel like a schemer and just a bit dirty, which is not a feeling Graham wanted to indulge in. If the young man wasn't such a sexy lug and didn't have such a big cock and know exactly what to do with it, Graham would be off and running in finding someone else. He seriously thought he was getting too old to be competing with the likes of the little Thai trick being pulled along by those dogs down in the meadow.

He did, though, like the sound of David saying he couldn't wait to enjoy him again-and that was another thing Graham observed about David: that it appeared that he wouldn't hold back with Graham in sex just because he was spiking someone else too. From that perspective, Graham was forced to accept that David's willingness for him to pursue the Clark man with the Airedales was an open, honest response.

It proved true that David both didn't want to wait for what Graham had driven into Tauranga in his fancy locally produced sports car to get and that he wouldn't stint in fucking Graham even if he also was doing the kennel helper. They only made it as far as the dining room, before David had Graham bent over the table and was fucking him in the doggy style that they both enjoyed so much.

Afterward, while they were sitting on the porch, drinking beer; discussing a bit of business, since they were co-owners of the kennel; and watching Chumphon pad around the kennel down the hill, Graham broached the subject he'd been building up to for weeks now.

"How is the Thai helper, Chumphon, working out?"

"He's doing well in the kennel."

And even better in the house lying under you, Graham thought. But he didn't go there even if he couldn't get it out of his mind. "Well enough to be left with the kennel for a couple of weeks?"

"Well, I don't know . . ."

"You know I tracked him down and arranged to bring him over so that you'd be free to travel. I have brochures on Paris and London in the car. I'm getting antsy on this small island. And I don't want to travel or to sleep alone."

"The island's not that small," David answered. "And I don't really think I can get away now-not for some time."

I understand perfectly, Graham thought, slightly bitterly, since this was his doing-not that he had meant it to turn out this way. David didn't want to leave because he didn't want to be away from Chumphon for any length of time. Chumphon had just proved to be too tasty a morsel for David to resist. At some point in their relationship, David had revealed to Graham his weakness for small Southeast Asian men. The revelation had come too late to prevent Chumphon's arrival, unfortunately. And then, of course, he had to be such a beautifully formed little man.

What was it David had said? That he just went with the flow of life and took what came his way as a gift? Graham was getting old. Maybe he was manipulating life too much. But then, maybe not.

"Where did you say that Clark guy exercised his Airedales? They look too athletic to be house or lap dogs."

"I didn't say," David said in a somewhat distracted voice. He still had his attention locked on Chumphon giving attention to the dogs in their cages.

"But do you know?"

"Yes, I believe he likes to walk them in the Papamoa Dune Wilderness Area on Saturdays."

The following Saturday morning, Graham was sitting on a bench in said wilderness area, as he and the Airedale puppy Graham had taken on a trial basis from a pet supplier watched Clark Stringer, the owner of a men's gym and quite obviously one of the gym's best customers, walking toward them on a pathway with his two Airedales on a leash.

Graham leaned down and whispered, "Oh look, girl, there are two very fit male Airedales bearing down on us with their tongues hanging out. Just let me slip your leash here and go do what comes naturally."

As he unsnapped the leash, he had a nanosecond of second thought, but he had taken David's view of life to heart. There was no reason he had to give up the Maori hunk completely, but there also was no reason there wasn't room in his sex life for a bodybuilder hunk named Clark either.