Thai Boy

I gave Prasang the money to pay the receptionist at the front desk. They chatted a bit in Thai and she handed him the key.

My hand caressed his back as they talked. He felt smooth and warm. My drunken excitement was growing. I couldn't keep my eyes off his body, I was anxious to get him alone and strip those clothes off him.

He flashed me that grin, like sunshine breaking through clouds, and took my hand. I had asked him to be my boyfriend tonight and it certainly appeared he was willing to play the part. He guided me down the hall.

The walls of our room were covered in a gaudy, brown stone paneling. The carpet and bedspread were a loud orange, the same color Thai monks wear.

Prasang put down his bag. I waited in the middle of the room. He swaggered over to me smiling and wrapped his strong arms around my waist. His tattoos looked like tiger stripes coming out of his t-shirt. I smiled at him and combed my fingers through his thick, black hair. He held me with those wing-shaped eyes of his, then leaned in and kissed me.

His lips were full and sensuous to the taste. I felt the dazzle in my mouth as when biting into a succulent fruit. A wonderful shudder, then a tingle went through me and down to my cock.

I opened my mouth and accepted his hot tongue. I grew hard as I suckled it. Our tongues slid against each other. I pushed my swelling groin against his.

When I pulled away, he smiled at me doe-eyed. "Beautiful boy," I whispered. I couldn't help myself, he was so attractive it was almost too much. Undoubtedly the sexiest man I'd ever kissed.

I lifted up the bottom of his t-shirt and slid it over his silky, washboard stomach and chest. It came clean off and dropped to the floor.

I ran my hands over his bare shoulders, eager for more of what I'd experienced at Male Body Palace. He had the most fabulously smooth skin. Hairless as he was, there was no friction whatsoever as I ran my hands over his torso.

I cupped his pecs, squeezing them like firm cantaloupes. I flicked my fingertips over his chocolate brown nipples to make them stand out firm.

He looked down, watching my hands explore his body. He smiled with approval, seeming almost as fascinated by his physique as I was.

I lifted up his arms. "Flex for me again, please, Prasang, let me see that muscle man pose."

My cock snaked upward as he pinned me with those glittering black eyes, apparently attempting to make me melt into the floor.

He clenched his fists and flexed them taut, holding his arms in the double biceps pose once again. I squeezed the rock-hard mounds. His pecs bulged, as well, as though served up to me on a platter.

Still squeezing, I leaned in for another savory, hot kiss. This time, the open coil of his mouth accepted my tongue. He held his muscle pose as I familiarized myself with the curves and contours of his body, from his flexing arms to his manly chest and back again.

"Beautiful," I whispered again, my mouth inches from his. "Just beautiful."

"Thank you," he said softly, looking pleased.

"Now I want you to keep these biceps tight, okay?" I said.

Prasang held his pose as I circled around him, brushing his rib cage lightly with my fingertips. I pressed my thumbs into the strong, accentuated lines of his back, into the tattooed figure of the Buddha. "Ahh," he moaned.

I worked my way down with my thumbs, all the way to his stone-washed jeans and the swell of his ass.

I watched him in the big, plate-glass mirror on the opposite wall, eyes closed. His pink mouth formed delicate Os as he took in what he was feeling. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips like a tiger, as though he too enjoyed the taste of them.

I watched myself behind him, a taller, bulkier, pale white guy in a t-shirt and jeans who was definitely not in Prasang's league. Yet, that somehow made it all the more exciting, knowing this amazing male specimen was flexing for me and going to allow me to get him naked enjoy him completely.

I watched us both as my arms circled his waist and found the button of his jeans. His biceps remained tight as I unfastened him and pulled down the zipper.

I watched myself in the glass, rubbing the fabric of those white briefs with the red band he'd been wearing at the club. He cooed, almost completely hard beneath them.

I pulled his pants down over his legs and all at once, he was dressed just as he had been: naked but for the shimmering white speedo that starkly contrasted his brown skin.

I allowed him a moment to sit on the bed to remove his shoes and socks and to liberate his ankles from his jeans. One of his pecs twitched as he undid his laces.

Now his beautiful legs were free, thick and sporty as a hare's. I had never had much interest in men's legs before spending time in Asia. Asian men have the most gorgeous legs, I think because there is virtually no body hair to obscure their shapeliness.

When he strutted toward me again, nearly naked now, he planted his feet shoulder length apart. His toes twitched. His lip peeled back in a cocky, boyish half-grin. To my delight, he resumed his double bicep pose without having to be asked. He was ready and willing to give me the experience I wanted and to play by my rules.

I traced a green-blue vein through his flexing arm. I hooked the finger of my other hand into the red elastic of his briefs.

I pulled back and snapped his undies against his body as we made out. His lips tightened around mine and he chuckled through our kiss.

I pushed his briefs down around his thighs. I did not see, but felt as my fingers combed through coarse pubic hair, then cupped his naked, hanging manhood.

"Ahh," he sighed into me as my hand moved over the petal-smooth skin of his cock.

He was a healthy, athletic young man and his tool reacted immediately.

I stroked him and worked his body. He moaned into my open mouth. His breaths were growing stronger, more frequent. I felt his bare chest swelling against me. Once he was fully erect, I backed away to have a look.

Hard and flexing, Prasang opened his eyes and beamed that beautiful, champion smile at me. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

I starred, spellbound by his hardon. He was big where it counted. About the same size as me, in fact, though not quite as thick.

Prasang's entire body had a tidy, clean look to it and his cock was no exception. It was attractive in a way most men's cocks are not attractive. It looked the way an erect penis really should look, threaded with veins and sporting a big, round ball of a cockhead. Prasang was uncircumcised and the purple tip of his penis was peeking shyly out of its foreskin, tight and shining like a nectarine.

It looked so very suckable.

I, of course, had not removed a single article of clothing. That is not really my thing. I love CMNM and I prefer to strip a man naked while I remain fully clothed. It's not just for the power it gives me, but for the opportunity to focus on and appreciate the other man's body completely.

I stared luridly at Prasang's splendidly nude form, moving my eyes up and down, drinking him in. I gave him a moment to take in this fact. That he was naked and vulnerable before me and flexing like a sex toy.

I saw the first blush on his cheek. His confident smile wavered a bit. In my silence I was starting to make him uncomfortable and he felt embarrassed. That was how I wanted him. He was an Adonis and he knew it. I was ready to take him down a few pegs.

I went over and sat on the queen-sized bed with the bright orange bedspread. I pointed toward my feet. "Come and stand here in front of me, Prasang."

He did as I asked, looking a little less cocky now. The head of his penis bobbed proudly before him as he approached.

I squeezed the big, round head between two fingers and pulled back the chocolate-brown hood of his foreskin. The red lips of his cock parted as it withdrew.

Prasang made a face, "Ack."

"You alright?" I looked up at him. He did his best to smile, "Yeah." His foreskin must have been a bit tighter than it looked.

I cupped my hand under his balls. They felt hefty and full and his scrotum was snug around them.

I slid my mouth over his gorgeous tool. The mushroom cap of his cock was moist, but there was almost no taste at all. He was so clean, like newly washed vegetables wrapped in a damp tissue. I felt his tight stomach expand as he drew in a long satisfied breath. "Mmmm," he purred.

I sucked him long and deep, savoring him, enjoying him. I closed my lips around the thickness of him, clasping the loose skin of his shaft with my mouth as I moved back and forth.

I took my hefty meal in further, ingesting him inch by inch, allowing myself to grow accustomed to his girth. Once I had him almost all the way down my throat, I started to gag. Tears sprang to my eyes. I choked, but it felt wonderful.

He moaned. I felt the head swell at the back of my throat and release a healthy dose of pre-cum. I sucked it all down greedily. It was salty and tangy. Delicious nectar.

He placed a hand on my head and guided my mouth, sliding it up and down his bone-hard member.

I reached up and lifted his arms, wanting the double bicep pose again. I wanted him in this position at all times, striking that most virile of stances like the Greek statue of an Olympian. I wanted his manliness on display for me. I relished and feasted upon his masculinity, sucking it out of him and drinking it in.

I kept one hand on a hard bicep. The other handled his balls. They were like ripe, hanging plums in my hand.

I sucked greedily, then decided to pull out. I was in so deep by then, it took a moment to dislodge myself from him. Tears were streaming down my eyes and I sat panting, catching my breath. I pumped his saliva-slick tool with my fist to make sure he stayed hard.

"Do you like that, Prasang?" I asked, struggling a bit to find my voice. I looked up at him. He was still flexing, drinking in the experience with his eyes closed. He opened them and smiled down at me. Bathed in the overhead light, he looked like a benevolent demigod. "Yes."

I continued stroking. "Do you like a man sucking your cock? Making you hard until you cum?"

"Yes," he smiled generously, "I like it very much."

"As much as when your girlfriend does it?"

I saw discomfort rise behind his eyes. He didn't seem eager to talk about his heterosexual side even though he had admitted earlier that he was mostly straight. He claimed to not have had a girlfriend, but who knew?

His reluctance peaked my interest.

I poked my head around his body and admired his figure from the back in the mirror. I watched myself on the bed and him standing there in front of me, biceps flexed taut, the muscles in his back standing out strong. The tattooed Buddha watched me with tranquil eyes.

I admired his buttocks. Tight, protruding and enticingly curved. They appeared to have been smoothed and sculpted by a Renaissance master. They were a shade lighter than the rest of him: a creamy, milk-tea brown. One single black-inked flame ran, tear-shaped, into the crevice of his ass. It was a perfectly erotic touch.

I reached up and stroked it, then pinched the area where it disappeared into his crack.

Between the black ink of his back and the dark, cinnamon hue of his legs, his bare buns seemed particularly pale, vulnerable and exposed. They seemed designed to be touched, caressed, and groped.

I tapped his thigh. "Sway for me please, Prasang." He looked down at me, not understanding the word. "What?"

"Sway your hips. Move them back and forth." I rocked on the bed to demonstrate.

Still holding his pose, he began slowly moving his hips. His moist cock bobbed up as he flexed it. I seized it again. His foreskin was sliding back into place and I wanted to keep him exposed and hard.

I glanced over to watch his tantalizing, athletic buns sway in the mirror, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. It was as smooth and fluid a movement as milk sloshing from side to side in a saucer. I watched as one cheek went taught and the other relaxed itself, then vice versa.

"So tell me," I said with his cock in hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, "What kind of girls do you like?"

He looked down at me, unsure. His smile froze on his face. "What...kind of girls?"

I watched his buns shifting hypnotically back and forth in the mirror. Again he did not seem too keen to talk about this aspect of his life, which is why I wanted to push him further. I was paying good money and wanted to know.

"Yeah," I began sliding my hand up and down his shaft again, feeling it stiffen. "You said you are about seventy percent straight, right? I'd like to know what makes this cock of yours hard."

He looked uncomfortable as he swayed, not sure what to say. I reached down below his balls and tapped his inner thigh. "Spread your legs a little more for me."

I heard him swallow, I could see nervousness on his face. I had no idea how many "clients" he'd actually had, but it appeared this was new to him and he couldn't quite guess where I was taking this.

He flexed his cock in my grip, then inched his bare foot across the tacky, orange carpet.

"A little more than that, you can spread wider, the other one too." He looked a bit taken aback by the authority starting to creep into my voice. I had him in an uncomfortable position and was pressing my advantage.

He spread his legs further, until they made a nice, wide V-shape. This looked incredibly hot in the mirror. I reached over and gave his naked, bubble butt a nice, hard pinch. "Owe," he laughed nervously. "Move your buns, Prasang, nice and slow."

As he started moving again, I continued. "Do you like legs?" I trailed my finger lightly from the dimple of his thigh down the slope of his shapely, hairless leg. "A lot of guys like girls' legs." I heard him gulp audibly, "Yeah."

"Or what about tits?" One hand still around his cock, my other hand roved up his stomach and copped a feel of his pec. "Do you like a pair of big, round tits on a girl, Prasang?"

I reached around and grabbed a handful of his swaying ass, watched myself squeezing it in the mirror like a ripe melon. "Or what about a nice, round ass. Everybody likes that, isn't that right?" He flexed his buns taut against my grip as I squeezed harder. "Yes, MMF, yes, I guess so..."

"So then tell me, my sexy Thai boy, what part of a girl makes this big, suckable cock of yours hard?"

He was blushing deeply now. Still flexing, still swaying, it seemed the cat had his tongue. He was clearly hoping I wouldn't make him answer, but I held him with my gaze the way my hand gripped his cock.

He gulped more audibly. "I like...I like a girl's legs, I guess..."

I caressed his sinewy, smooth legs again. "Yeah, legs are great...nice and sexy...like yours." The alcohol I'd had earlier was making my tongue loose and the words came easily. Prasang tried to smile at me. I saw how eager he was to please me based on how much he wanted the money.

"What about me, Prasang?" I asked casually enough. "Do you think I'm attractive?"

He looked down at me stupefied, his face rather pained. When he didn't answer, I squeezed his erection a bit too hard for comfort, "UMF."

"Well?"

"Yes...yes, of course," he said eagerly as his cockhead started to turn crimson in my grip. "Yes, you are very attractive." His buns moved back and forth a bit faster in agitation. I did not release my hold on his cock.

"In what way, Prasang, what makes you think I'm attractive?"

I tapped his ankle with my shoe. "Spread your legs a little more. Come closer to my eye level."

He drew in his breath and slid his feet further across the carpet, spreading his legs even wider. He chuckled again uncomfortably.

"Don't stop moving those gorgeous Thai buns, now. You should keep them moving until I tell you to stop, understand..? What do you find attractive about me? Be specific."

Prasang swallowed harder, almost as though he was going to choke. His hardon was going a bit soft in my hand and flexing desperately for release. He continued swaying his bare buns helplessly back and forth. "You-UMPH...you have nice eyes."

"That's good, tell me more. Come down further." He spread his legs further apart to the extent his cheeks were now parting and I could see the shadowy entrance between them when he shifted.

"Keep flexing, and let me see that pretty smile." My voice no longer sounded friendly. I was commanding him as if I owned him.

He was able to choke something out. "Your eyes-OOMF- are a very nice color green and you look very handsome."

"Do you like my hands squeezing your cock and balls?" I continued stroking his cock with one hand. I cupped his balls in the other.

"ERMF! Yes, yes it feels very good. Your hands are big and strong," he said in slight desperation, trying to smile and keep his cool.

I smiled at this. "They are, aren't they?" I applied pressure to his balls. I kicked at his ankle again. "Wider, Prasang. I want you to spread your legs until I can see your hole in the mirror."

I heard him grit his teeth a bit now as he inched his feet still further across the carpet. The muscles in his legs were taut, his hamstrings stood out. He was down very low now and very spread-eagled. Uncomfortable as he was, this was far better for me. A few more inches and we would be nearly at eye level.

One of his legs started to tremble. He was spread so wide I could now see his hole between his pale, light brown buns. Like the rest of him it was cleanly shaped, a lovely little round cherry between his clenching cheeks.

I tapped his thigh, "Don't stop swaying, now, Prasang, move your buns for me."

Prasang showed me the briefest flash of contempt in his strain. Was I crazy? All the same, he gave it the old college try. He swallowed hard ("Umf") And did his best to keep shifting his ass, though his movement was mostly restricted now. He could do little more than clench his bulbous cheeks together. Clench and relax. Clench and relax.

I took the little bottle of rubbing oil from 7/11 out of my pocket. I lubed up my palms with it, then applied it to his cock and balls.

His semi-flaccid cock turned steel hard as I lubed him up, sliding my hand back and forth quickly. His mouth fell open. His breathing intensified. "Oh...oh..."

"Do you want me, Prasang?" I asked him sharply, holding him prisoner. Stroking his cock in one hand, squeezing his testicles in the other, forcing moans of pleasure and discomfort out of him.

"Yes," he said, sounding desperate.

"Tell me."

He looked at me, watched my hand running up and down his erection. His left leg trembling badly now. He tried to remember to flex and unflex his buns. "I want you."

Still holding his biceps in place, he did his best to give me that pearly white smile, even as he flinched.

"Again," I said.

He held me with those fathomless black eyes as best he could. "I want you," he whispered.

"One more time," I was hard and throbbing in my jeans. He formed the words as sensually as he could. "I want you."

"Do I make your cock hard, Prasang?" He grimaced in his discomfort, then smiled as sweetly as he could while I stroked his oily manhood. His breaths were heaving. "Yes."

"Tell me," I looked into his eyes, now just inches above mine. "I want to hear it. One and then the other."

"I want you...you...make my cock hard," he said.

"Again," I smiled.

Prasang clenched and unclenched his buns. He cleared his throat, trying his best to act the part. Now both legs were beginning to quiver.

"I want you, you make my cock hard."

"And you want to be my boyfriend, don't you?"

I gave his balls another hard squeeze in my grip. "OOF!" I stroked his cock wickedly. I had him trapped.

"You want to be my boyfriend, don't you, Prasang?" I demanded, pinning him with my eyes.

"Yes," he groaned.

"Ask me," I insisted, squeezing his oily cock and balls. One bare foot slipped a little bit further across the carpet. I don't think he could help it. Both legs shook. His buns were trembling like jello.

He licked his lips and drew in a long, heavy breath. "Can I please...be your boyfriend?"

"Again." I squeezed him.

"Can I (UMF) can I please be your boyfriend?"

I made him spread his legs an inch or two wider. We were basically face to face now. His cherry hole was in full view in the mirror. His cheeks clenched and unclenched, no longer because I asked but because he couldn't help it.

"Say them all together, Prasang," I insisted, "Say all three."

His tight stomach swelled. "I want you, you make my cock hard, can I please be your boyfriend?"

"Again.".

He took another deep breath, I watched his buttocks trembling and clenching in the mirror. He was groaning in discomfort. "I want you-RRF, you make my cock hard, can I please be your boyfrien- Mmf."

I stopped his mouth with a kiss, cutting him off at the end. I placed one hand on the bed to steady myself. The other pumped his cock.

"Again," I demanded, breathing harder.

Prasang breathed desperately into me. "I want you, you make my cock hard, can I please be your boyfriend? Oomf." I all but assaulted him this time. I shoved my tongue down his throat, forcing it in deep. I felt a hot stream of his pre-cum run through my fingers.

My other hand reached around and found his cherry hole. I stuck the tip of it inside him. He was hot and spasming. I heard him gasp in discomfort as he clenched around me.

"Tell me again, Prasang," I breathed.

"I...I want you-OOF...you make-UMF you make my cock hard...can I please-ECK...can I please be your boyfriend?" He said his line once more and once more I attacked his mouth with my tongue. I forced out his moans as I pounded his cock faster and worked my finger deeper into his quivering hole.

I did this to him twice more. I had him at full command: His cock, his balls, his hole, his mouth. I was playing his body like an instrument, drawing out moans and gasps as though he were my sex puppet.

I stood up and walked around behind him. I got down on my knees, my face level with his superb, round ass, fully spread and quivering. I planted both oily hands on either cheek and pushed them apart.

His buns were so muscular and clenching so badly I had to almost pry them open.

I looked up, admired his strong back, shining cinnamon brown in the light and beautifully tattooed. His flexing arms were trembling now too along with his legs. "Say it again, Prasang," I commanded him, "I want you to keep repeating it. Make me believe it."

I heard his chest swell again, he recited his line with virtually no hesitation: "I want you, you make my cock hard, can I please be your boyfriend..? I want you, you make my cock hard, can I please be your boyfriend? Ahhh." I buried my face in the heat of his ass, sponging my tongue against his spasming hole.

I reveled in the taste of him. He was deliciously hot as his meaty cheeks pressed in around me. I wanted to smother myself in them.

He kept repeating the line I as I rimmed his hot hole. Each time he was a bit more desperate. Strong as he was, his legs were surely starting to burn. His fleshy buns quaked around me as I feasted on him. I loved hearing his voice reverberating in his body. "I want you...ahh...you make my cock hard...ahhh...can I please be your boyfriend?"

At last I allowed him to have a rest and kneel down. I asked him to lay his stomach on the bed. Now bent over, I had full access to his wonderful, round ass. I massaged it in my hands like rising dough.

"I want you, you make my cock hard, can I please be your boyfriend?" He moaned and panted into the bed covers as I rimmed him. I no longer had to ask him to say it. He sounded less desperate and more like he was enjoying it.

I loved being buried in his ass. It felt fantastic. I felt the muscles of his hole blossom and open beneath my tongue. I did not have to push, for he accepted me into him the way he had accepted me into his mouth.

When at last I finished, I was hot and dripping with sweat from his heat. I wiped myself off and came around to look at him. His head lay in his folded arms. His eyes closed to take in the sensation of what I was doing to him. Any distress I had caused him before seemed mostly gone now and as far as I could tell.

He grinned up at me when I approached. He looked beautiful once again. I leaned in, my face hot and wet from his ass, and I kissed him.

I hoped he would taste himself on my tongue. I wanted him to know the flavor of his own body and enjoy it as I did.

"We do make a good couple, though, don't you think, Prasang?"

"Yes...yes we look very good together," he said as convincingly as he could, though behind his smile he looked rather like a deer in the headlights.

We were both standing in front of the plate-glass mirror. I stood behind Prasang, a head taller than he was. I was running my oiled-up hands over his dimpled abs.

A stray finger slid into his deep, oval belly button, making his stomach muscles jump.

I covered every inch of his body in oil, making it shine all the more. His skin looked positively edible.

I wanted the whole of his anatomy awake and at attention for me, from his hard nipples to his erect cock, its attractive round head glistening like a brass knob.

"Will you be a good boyfriend to me?"

He was good at that sweet and reassuring smile I had to admit, even as he burned with embarrassment. "Yes," he whispered.

"And take me out to dinner?"

"Yes, yes I will..."

I put my hands around his waist and guided him forward a bit.

"You look good, don't you, Prasang?"

He swallowed, "yes."

"Tell me...say it."

"I look good."

"Where's that winning smile? You should be proud of how you look."

He looked at himself, forcing a confident smile.

"Now, you told me before that you give a great massage, is that so?"

"Yes," Prasang breathed, still looking at himself, naked and embarrassed in the mirror.

There were two armchairs positioned in either corner of the far left wall.

I seized him by his erect cock, felt his heart pounding in it as I squeezed, and led him to one of the chairs. "Let's see what you can do."

I sat down. "Now, we're going to massage each other. I want you to massage my shoulders and my arms for me. I am going to keep working at this incredible Thai cock of yours, understand?"

He leaned over me, I admired his magnificent chest. His powerful hands gripped my shoulders and sank into them. His strength penetrated down into my muscles.

A sigh both of pleasure and discomfort escaped my lips. It felt good and painful at the same time, not so different from what I had been putting him through for the past few hours, I figured.

I patted the chair on either side of me. "Knees up here, please, Prasang."

There was only a little bit of space, but he did his best. He put one knee to one side of my lap, then did the same with the other.

Now he was spread again, balancing on the chair and towering above me. His limbs began to quiver again from the stretching he'd given them earlier. His hard, oily tool was again in my face. I could see his heartbeat within it like a ticking clock.

He massaged my shoulders, a bit lighter this time. I stroked him, moving his foreskin back and forth, back and forth over the head.

I squeezed it until it turned a deeper shade of purple and was running with clear, sticky liquid.

I looked up at him, covering me with this beautiful body. I took a deep breath and throated him once more. His cock had thickened and gained in size from all the attention I'd given it.

I took it all the way in until I felt his spongy, delicious cockhead at the back of my throat. His blood was hot rushing through it.

One hand still clasped tightly around his balls, I reached around back and found his anus with my oily finger.

I fucked him with it, sliding it back and forth, going in deeper and deeper until I felt myself pressing against his prostate. I knew a fit, healthy young man's body was no match for knowing hands. It wouldn't be long now.

I gagged and nearly retched, but it felt amazing being one with him. His cock down my throat, my finger up his ass. And all the while he was moaning. At last he crescendoed. "Ah...ahh...ahhhh!"

I felt his balls roll upward in my grasp, felt his hole buck and clench against my finger as his cockhead swelled up and burst in the back of my mouth.

He gushed load upon load of baby batter into my throat. A hot, creamy soup.

His body gave one last spasm as he thrust forward and ejaculated the final bit into me. He climbed down off the chair and onto the floor with a last big heave. His limbs looked rubbery and spent.

I joined him momentarily. I had swallowed down most of his jizz, but I believed in sharing.

I turned his head toward me and forced his pretty, pink mouth into yet another violating kiss. I pushed my tongue, still covered in his semen, into his throat.

He sucked at it, but then I saw the look of revulsion on his face. He attempted to pull away from my cum-filled mouth. "Uh," he said, "Uck."

I chuckled, "Don't like the taste of your own juice, Prasang?" He grimaced at the very suggestion.

I reached down to his wet, slick cock and probed into the slit with my finger. I pushed it into his mouth before he had time to protest. "UMF!" "Don't worry," I said, "You will."

Once we were finished, Prasang went into the bathroom to take a shower. He closed the door after him, no doubt assuming I would give him some privacy.

But I simply could not get my fill of his gorgeous young body, so I followed him in to watch.

The bathroom was designed like the shower in a locker room, but with only one shower head. Asian bathrooms don't usually have bathtubs or any kind of barrier for water, so there was nothing between us, not even a shower curtain.

My eyes roved his naked body, feeling a kind of ownership of it now. I wanted to enjoy every last bit of him I could. Wanted to burn the incredible image of his nudity into my mind.

I watched the hot water stream over his shoulders, his back and his defined brown buttocks.

The Buddha tattoo regarded me as calmly as ever, but Prasang did not look quite so calm. He took a few embarrassed glances back at me as he washed himself. I smiled innocently.

"We need to get all that oil off you, don't we?" I said approaching him. I noticed a bar of soap in a plastic wrapper by the shower.

I reached for it, but Prasang shook his head. "We aren't allowed to use that."

I thought for a minute. "I guess I'd better help you get it off myself, then, shouldn't I?" I stood behind him, as fully clothed as he was naked, and began rubbing his wet back, feeling the resistance of the oil on his skin.

A warm current of pleasure engulfed my cock almost immediately. "It feels even more amazing wet," I said. My hands moved over his sensual curves more freely than ever. "You do the front and I'll do the back, how about that?"

Prasang was quiet as he stiffly caressed his chest and stomach. Having blown his wad, he surely was not in any kind of mood for sexual attention any longer and eager to get dressed and go home. I wasn't finished with him just yet, though. I was determined to get my money's worth.

I made my way down his back with my hands and mouth, rubbing and kissing, sponging off the oil with my tongue, until I was again on my knees behind him.

The tile floor was hard and I felt the warm water seeping through my jeans. I pushed his legs apart, then dug my thumbs in between his buns.

There again was the perfect pink coil of his hole. A hot stream of water ran into it, making it clench and retreat.

I leaned in to taste him one more time. I loved the flavor of him: his mouth, his hole, his cock, his cum. I wanted to give his body a proper and intimate goodbye before we parted.

I squeezed his buns hard, making them flex around me. I licked greedily between them as the hot water poured down my face and over the delicate flesh of his anus. I enjoyed the heat of his body and the water at once. I drank it down in gulps.

I positioned my hands on his dimpled thighs and turned him around. His cock was flaccid now, but still thick and swollen from action.

I ingested it once more even as he made a small sound of protest. He had cum very hard and his cock likely needed a bit of time to recover. But that didn't concern me much at the moment. I couldn't help myself, he was as irresistibly suckable as ever.

After I had my fill, I turned the knob on the shower, shutting it off. I grabbed a towel from the overhead rack and dried him.

First the front, from his chest to his semi-erect cock to his legs, then his back and his ass.

When we finished, I led him out into the bedroom, insisting on dressing him, as well. Obediently, he raised his arms so I could pull the shirt down over him. Then I held out his jeans for him to step into.

"Wait..." he said looking around, "My..." I picked up the white speedo with the red band he had been wearing earlier that night.

"I'll just keep this for you for now, okay? A little gift from you to me." I stuffed it into the pocket of my jeans. I saw a flash in his eyes, he was about to object, but then swallowed it down, thinking better of it.

I pulled his tight, stone-washed jeans up around his legs and thighs. I stuffed his big, soft manhood in the front and zipped him up.

As he put on his shoes and socks I drew out my wallet. It had been an amazing evening for me. Prasang was willing to be my sex toy and allowed himself to be commanded just as I had wished.

I rewarded him with three thousand Thai baht, double the agreed-upon price. His eyes lit up when he saw the money. "You did a great job, my friend," I said, "I hope it wasn't too much for you."

He took the cash, then enthusiastically put his hands together and bowed. "Thank you, sir."

"You earned it," I said, "Take one of your lady friends out and buy her something nice."

We exited the hotel together. It was past midnight, but the highway was still buzzing with cars. The Bangkok air was warm and refreshing, even though the front of my clothes were wet from bathing Prasang.

He seemed to be in high spirits after getting paid. His black eyes shone and he beamed as he pointed out the best place for me to get a taxi.

"Do you know the address of your hotel?" he asked me, "I can tell the taxi driver for you if you like."

"Prasang," I said, beckoning. He stepped closer to me. I held up another thousand Thai baht. He looked at it, eyes full of amazement.

"Did you mean what you said about wanting to be my boyfriend?" He looked at the money, then at me and nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, of course, I want to be your boyfriend."

"Will you be my boyfriend tomorrow? Will you take me out on a date, show me around the city? Treat me the way a good boyfriend is supposed to?"

He seemed unsure for a minute, then nodded.

"I will, of course, make it worth your while," I added. "I need a boyfriend for the rest of my time here in Thailand. I have another three weeks."

Prasang's eyes were wide as he thought about this. He surely was considered what this would entail. What it would mean to allow me full access to his body for the next three weeks whenever I wanted it. He swallowed hard and at last nodded, "Yes, yes I think I could, sir, I will do my best."

"Then say it," I said, "Say it one more time and make me believe it."

He raised his arms yet again, making his biceps go taut. His bare navel was exposed.

He said it slowly, passionately, looking me directly in the eye. "I want you...you make my cock hard...may I please, PLEASE be your boyfriend?"

I unzipped his pants and pulled out his thick naked cock. Anyone speeding by on the highway would have had a great view of it. Why not share a work of art like that with the world?

I squeezed it one last time as I kissed him, pressing the paper money against it.

His tongue struggled against mine. A few cars on the highway honked. We were putting on a bit of a show.

When I pulled out, I drew out a pen from my pocket. I asked him to hold out his hand so I could write the number of my cell phone on his palm.

"If the answer is yes, call me tomorrow, understand?"

He nodded, his cock still hanging out and exposed in the night air. "Yes, tomorrow...see you tomorrow."

"I hope so," I said. I gave his ass an appreciative squeeze and left him there, the silky fabric of his briefs stuffed into my pocket.