Date: Wed, 15 Nov 2006 11:05:45 -0800
From: joe69orforg@yahoo.com
Subject: Bangkok Boys - Introduction

Horny Joe who contributed "I Still Miss Him" is offering the start of a new
series based on international scenes. "Bangkok Boys" is the first of two
parts. Reader comments are invited.


Bangkok Boys


A harsh, driving disco beat reverberated off the walls of the long, narrow
room. Dazzling flashes of yellow light pulsated on and off, adding a
surreal glow to the otherwise dimly-lit area. Figures of men writhed across
the two high, narrow platforms down the center, banked by graduated
platforms on each side where a mostly indifferent audience paid scant
attention to the show.

The 'show' was a halting parade of very young, very self-conscious Thai
Boys presenting their nearly nude bodies to the male patrons of a boy bar
in Bangkok. Their only coverings were skimpy black leather thongs, each of
which had a number attached so that the wearer might be identified by any
interested patron.

Some of the young males attempted to follow the beat of the music with
bumps and grinds as they mounted the platform at one end and progressed
across to the center of the room where the end of one platform was marked
by a brass pole reaching to the ceiling. At the pole, each would wrap an
arm and a leg around it and turn to expose his front, sides and back to the
watchers, then drop to the floor and mount the second platform and continue
the parade to the far end of the room.

To the uninitiated, most of the boys looked very much alike--small stature,
delicate physique, clear olive skin, straight black hair and Asian faces
devoid of any expression except self-effacement. They were obviously
inexperienced and ill at ease in their chosen performance. Their blank gaze
invited no eye contact, and the audience showed little interest in their
appearance.

There was one boy who stood out, however, because he did seek eye contact
with men seated along the runway, and he was able to follow the music more
skillfully. His body motions were more provocative--thrusts of his pelvis
toward this man or that one seated nearest the platform and a come-hither
glance filled with promise. He seemed out of place with the rest of his
troupe, and flipped his number 23 as he picked likely bidders for his
attention.

As the show progressed, a man seated near us engaged my companion, Jon, in
conversation. He was an Australian whose work brought him to Bangkok
frequently, and he visited boy bars frequently, though he explained that he
rarely hired a boy from the bar, since they could be had on the street for
less than the charges made by the bar, after which the boy's time and room
rent had to be figured into the total equation.

We ordered fresh drinks as the show continued. The boys we were watching
were the opening act of several promised for the evening. A listing of
exotic names for the parades of male flesh suggested that each would be
more erotic and enticing than its predecessor, so it appeared that those
who waited to make their selections had more desirable pickings--at higher
rates, our Aussie friend explained. The first show included mainly boys
fresh from the outlying rural areas who had come to the city to seek their
fortunes.

We turned to watch again, as the parade continued as the ten or a dozen
boys returned for a reprise, this time slipping off their scant covering
and running the gauntlet totally nude, most demurely covering their pubic
areas with both hands until approaching the end of the second platform,
when each would shyly uncover his genitalia before stepping down to the
floor.

As with the delicate and diminutive bodies, their genitals were to
scale--small and unremarkable. And, not surprising, totally flaccid. But as
number 23 stepped up onto the first platform, he gave a professional stage
bow and removed his thong with a flourish, being sure that his identifying
number was at all times clearly visible. Then with exaggerated bumps and
grinds he began to move across the platform, fondling himself to an
erection. He was much more generously endowed than his peers, and he began
slow, full-length strokes of his penis as he sought out eye contact with
his intended patron. When the response was not forthcoming, he moved on to
another, making even more exaggerated gestures, hard thrusts of his hips
that caused his loose scrotum to sway and his rigid erection to flip
provocatively.

As he caught the eye of our Australian neighbor, he was beckoned from the
stage. He bounced with alacrity up the seating risers, slid in past Jon and
me, his genitalia waving in our faces temptingly, and sat down in the
sliver of space between Jon and the Aussie.

A drink appeared before him, and our friend shrugged over a bit to snuggle
his naked invitee into the space. The Aussie put an arm around 23's bare
shoulders, drew him in close, and stroked his bare leg and the rigid member
jutting up from tightly-pressed thighs. He winked at Jon as he took
possession of his young companion.

Only one other of the cast from the first contingent was bidden out into
the audience, and then a new and ever-more raucous disco beat assaulted our
ears. TV monitors lighted with porno video scenes that seemed incongruous
in this Thai environment--Caucasian performers acting out the pedestrian
sexual scenes typical of $19.95 tapes dumped by the truckload on the
U.S. market. The predictable sound track was obliterated by the loud disco,
but it was clearly the repetitious groaning and sighing dubbed in on every
scene. The white bodies seemed obscenely large and their genitals grossly
outsize when compared to the Thai boys we had just viewed. Even 23 was
small in comparison.

During the intermission, drinks were shamelessly hustled, and we ordered as
our price of admission to the experience we had traveled nearly halfway
around the world to see. Our Australian friend was passing on the facts
about 23 to us as he elicited them. Twenty three's name was Dan, and he
chose to perform with the novices, since it made him stand out favorably,
and even though he might have to settle for fewer Baht for his evening's
work, he usually scored. He was not at all self conscious at being seated
in the audience naked and having himself stroked, fondled, and massaged. He
responded to his patron's interests by reaching inside his shirt to stroke
his breasts and with gropings of an obvious swelling in the basket. Our
friend continued to narrate his information to us with aplomb as he enjoyed
his play.

Second and third acts were presented, with each offering a progressively
more practiced troupe. The naked bodies were more well-defined, the
movements more suggestive and the facial expressions more animated. The
calling off the platform of the most attractive members accelerated, and
there was soon a scattering of naked boys seated among fondling, caressing
patrons. Overt sex play was clearly spreading as the evening wore on.

The final show was made up of individual stars who each received an
individual introduction and given time to appear alone on stage to dance
and provoke his audience in whatever way he was able. Some boys were very
skillful at suggestive promises through body language and facial
expressions, even before the thongs were removed. The boys were obviously
older and more practiced, though still young and delicate by
U.S. standards.

Only two of the boys from the last show were left by the finale of the
show. All the others had been called out, and some had already been
spirited off to nearby rooms by the management and their chosen patron of
the evening. The two remaining came back on stage after a short absence,
each sporting a huge, raging erection with a plastic sheen. They had donned
large, brightly colored dildoes that they were stroking enthusiastically as
they danced. A row of transvestites seated near us shrieked and applauded
loudly and beckoned the last of the performers to them.

As the lights came up and men rose to leave, the Aussie rose to shake hands
and bid us good hunting in Bangkok. We were leaving without bar boys, and
he was handing 23--Dan--some Baht notes and bidding him good night too. As
Dan departed, he explained that he had paid for the evening's companionship
and preferred to return to his room alone. As an aside, he mentioned the
possibility of becoming attached to some eager boy on the street as he ran
the gauntlet through the several blocks of street hustlers surrounding the
boy bars. He usually negotiated rates as low as 150 Baht--$6 U.S. for an
all-night trick. Or, as was often the case, young cruising Thais who were
out for a night with a like-minded man just for the fun of it.

As we left the bar and stepped out onto the sidewalk, the clamor was as
deafening as we'd experienced inside. Roaring tuk-tuks were lined up on the
street waiting to transport riders to their rooms if the bar patrons had
chosen not to remain in the rented rooms provided by the bar for the use of
those who had engaged bar boys. Many couples, mostly an older Caucasian
with a hurriedly-dressed Thai boy, roared off for a night of ecstasy. A
large crowd of young Thais pressed around the men emerging without a Thai
boy, shouting their offers--sex for the night, sex for an hour, a tour of
other boy bars, a tour of the city, a stroll up an alley, a sister for the
night (!)

We were touched and pulled at, something we were told was bad manners in
Thai culture, and even groped by the most forward. We gradually made our
way along the street to explore for other boy bars and different shows.

I glimpsed 23--Dan--in the crowd as we pushed our way along in the mob. I
kept my hand over my wallet to prevent a pickpocket's making a score in the
press of so many hot, young bodies. Dan seemed to be keeping pace with us,
only a few steps behind.

Jon stopped to check his notes to determine where the next bar on our list
was located, and he commented that it was in the next block. As we started
moving ahead, I noted that Dan had gotten ahead of us, so concluded that my
assumption that he was following us was wrong.

The imprecations from shameless boys, many as young as ten or twelve,
continued unabated. They appeared to know only a few words of
English--"Boy, five hundred Baht"--$20 U.S., way high according to our
Australian mentor. When the offer did not result in immediate interest, it
would be followed by an urgent groping of our crotches. Our progress was
slow as we allowed the vigorous huckstering to continue. I stopped
momentarily as a strikingly attractive Thai, perhaps 18 or 20, smiled and
said, "Me, one fifty Baht." $6 U.S. Cheap even by Aussie standards. I
hesitated, expressing interest, and he added, "All night!"
enthusiastically.

An all night trick expected fare home in the morning, which might be
another $3 or $4 for a tuk-tuk, the three-wheeled motorcycles prevalent in
Thailand. Still cheap, unless a horny Thai youth out for sex with a rich
American just for pleasure appeared in the crowd.

I was looking around for Jon to discuss my opportunity, and the eager boy
added, "Him too!" pointing to Jon. As I looked again, I realized that Dan
had clutched Jon's arm and was saying something to him and gesturing. Jon
tugged at my arm and pointed to a nearby alley. I looked at my little
tricklet-to-be and shrugged as I was pulled through the crowd and into the
alley. A few dimly-lighted shops lined the narrow way, and Dan led us past
the first and then stepped into a passage between two buildings. He was
muttering something in Jon's ear that I couldn't make out, and then he
began to stroke Jon's chest and crotch. I stood at the opening of the
passage watching Dan's eager ministrations. He would step up close, whisper
in Jon's ear, then kiss or nibble his earlobe. He appeared to be attracted
to Jon and eager to complete a transaction immediately. His agile fingers
were opening shirt buttons and the zipper fly while his flickering tongue
attacked nipples. Jon was fighting a severe moral battle, I could see by
his eyes. Quick sex in an alley in a foreign country was not in his
repertoire. He usually preferred more privacy and a setting conducive to
some emotional content. It appeared that Dan had provided the emotion. He
was attracted to a man he'd sat next to while naked for several hours, and
he was eager to attain some release for his pent-up desires.

Of course I was allowing my imagination to script this scene. It could be
that the young man was just horny and had a thing for white guys who
patronized boy bars. Or maybe just loved to suck cock, not an unusual
propensity among many men I knew.

At any rate, within seconds, Dan had freed Jon's respectable bulk from the
stricture of pants and underwear and swallowed its growing stiffness
hungrily. The battle for good taste had obviously been lost to immediate
gratification, and Jon leaned back against the building and allowed Dan to
attack his fully rigid cock with unbridled enthusiasm. Dan showed more than
passing knowledge about the sensitivities of a hard cock being stimulated
by a flickering tongue, fluttering lips, and a mouth that formed a hot, wet
vessel to provoke highly erotic sensitivities. Jon was writhing with his
growing pleasure as Dan demonstrated his virtuosity. Deliberate, long slow
envelopment of the 7+ inches of well-formed shaft were interspersed with
encirclement of the corona by firm lips and a fluttering tongue laving the
helmet head. Jon's eyes were closed and he was moaning in his typical tone
of ecstatic delight. He was thrusting his pelvis toward Dan's devouring
mouth, and way sooner than usual, I saw the unmistakable signs of Vesuvius
erupting. Jon's ejaculations are heavy, violent and prolonged.

He gasped, groaned, and thrust himself into Dan's throat as the paroxysms
of climax began. Dan swallowed eagerly and took each burst with delight
until the shudders diminished and then stopped. As Jon relaxed, Dan licked
the last drops from the softening cock, then tenderly returned it to its
resting place inside Jon's underwear and pants.

As Jon was putting his clothes together, Dan looked in my direction,
gestured with his hand and looked at me inquiringly. So much for his being
faithful to the man he'd been attracted to earlier. He really had a hunger
for cock.

I took a step into the shadow of the building, and Dan's practiced hands
had opened my fly and freed my hard cock in the flick of an eyelid. He bent
to his task with no loss of motion, and he was sending blue bolts of
lightning through my body with his skillful ministrations. I entered into
the effort with my own movements and moanings, which only served to
stimulate Dan to greater variations on an old theme. I reflected briefly on
the enormous repertoire of a good cocksucker. While even a novice can
provide some erotic pleasure to the owner of a hard cock, a truly
accomplished cocksucker plays a sensitive body like a five-bank organ, and
Dan pulled out all the stops.

I felt a drawing of my insides into the pit of my erotic passions and a
gathering pressure in my aching balls as Dan's forceful vacuum brought me
to a raging climax. I shot heavy gouts of hot cream into his insistent
mouth, and he took it to the last dribble. My cock burned from the heavy
exertion, but it was a passionate burn. Dan looked up at me with a beatific
smile, then at Jon, and muttered, "Go hotel, more sex?"

I hesitated, thinking that our stay at the Royal Orchid, one of Bangkok's
premier hotels, would make entertaining young Thai hustlers
difficult. Further, Jon had a thing about engaging in sex with multiple
partners. He preferred the intimacy of only one other man, and his
participation in our alley tryst had strained his boundaries.

Before I could respond to the proposition, Jon smiled his alcohol/eros
smile. Occasionally he could be moved to violate his own prohibitions. "Why
not?" he said quietly. "How much?"

Dan reached into his pocket and brought out several hundred-Baht
notes. "Already paid," he replied.

Was this an Oriental ploy to avoid saying that he just wanted sex? Had our
Australian friend put him up to this? Why would a boy who earned his living
in a sex bar be interested in giving it away to strangers? I was puzzling
out his motives uselessly. Jon and Dan were moving toward the street and
looking for a tuk-tuk to carry us to the Royal Orchid.

We were rapidly on our way, Dan sitting between us on the seat, one hand in
each of our crotches. The tuk-tuk roared through the heavy late-night
traffic, barely clearing other vehicles and pedestrians, careening around
corners, the driver beeping his horn indiscriminately. When we arrived at
the hotel, the driver stopped at the entrance to the Garden Room Restaurant
rather than the lobby doors. We alighted, entered the unattended foyer and
walked through the deserted tables to the rear elevators. We enter a
waiting lift and punch button #17. Our room and joy are only moments away.