Date: Wed, 13 Jun 2007 07:21:38 -0400 (EDT) From: Herb Cat Subject: Rip Folder: Around the World 14 Bangkok Around the World 14 Bangkok Copyright 2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission. Please note: this story depicts oral and anal sex between male adults and male minors. If this offends you or is illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further. The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you. ----- Jacob and Melinda came to Mumbai Airport to say goodbye. "What flight you fuckers taking, Malcolm?" "Air India 358." "OK, I see they're still saying it's on time. How long is the flight?" "Four hours. Listen, Jacob, I can't thank you enough for these last few days. If it wasn't for Pepito here, we never would have seen you. And that would have been a great loss." "Malcolm, you little dick, it's me who's in debt here. Twenty years ago, I started coming to the racquet club. Wanted to improve my backhand. Any place else, I know, the owners would have kicked me out just for wearing a fuckin skirt. But you never batted an eye. I appreciated that. It is so fuckin nice to feel accepted. And, shit, the tips you gave me on my swing were right on target. Actually, your whole family has always been nice to me. If I was a religious man, I'd say I've been blessed. Anyway, here's a little token of my gratitude." He surprised Malcolm with an envelope. "It's my daughter's time share in Oahu. You guys can use it for the month of April. Hope that fits into your schedule." Malcolm couldn't help himself. He hugged Jacob and kissed his cheek. "Make sure you send us a post card. Get going, they just announced your flight." .oOo. While the plane was approaching Suvarnabhumi Airport, Maria asked her sons what they were giggling about. "We're going to bang cock. Hehe." Then they doubled up in laughter again. Their hotel, The Shangri-La, certainly lived up to its name. It had a great view for Maria, AC for Pepito, and a huge king-sized bed for Malcolm and the boys. From the hotel they found they could get right on the SkyTrain and be in the heart of Bangkok in no time. However, downtown was not such a shangri-la. When they went searching for a restaurant the first night, Malcolm was accosted by street urchins, both boys and girls, who kept rubbing his crotch and offering their services. Some of them looked like they were no older than Juan. And men pulled him aside to ask, "You want boy or girl for fun? Real cheap, any age you want, I got virgin if you want." When they finally got to the restaurant, Malcolm could hardly eat. He knew the age of consent here was only 13 and he'd heard about child prostitution in southeast Asia but didn't expect such a blatant display. And on his first night. The next day, however, the family took a wonderful tour of the city. They set out from the hotel in a Tuktuk, something like the autorickshaws they rode in India. Maria found she was breathing all the fumes from the traffic, and decided one tuktuk ride was enough. Their first stop was Wat Po. On entering, they were told to take off their shoes. Pepito, giggling, wanted to take off his pants too. From the signs, they learned that it is rude to show anyone the soles of your feet. There was so much to learn about this exotic country. When they got inside, there in the center of the building was a humongous golden Buddha lying on his side. It took forever just to walk from the head to the foot. Then they walked around behind and saw the back of the statue. "Psst, Malgum, loogit his big ass, hehe." There were lots of metal pots lined up along the Buddha's posterior. Malcolm bought four bowls of coins from a vendor and then they walked along, each one dropping a coin into each! pot for luck. Maria thought it sounded like music. "Malcolm, look at all those beds!" Juan had discovered the massage school at Wat Po. There were men, women, children, all getting their muscles kneaded. "Come on, let's get massages." "Well, it does seem legitimate. The price is 300 baht an hour. How much is that, Juan?" "Shit, it's only $8." Maria looked around nervously, but saw that everyone left their clothes on in this very public area. She and Pepito had female practitioners, while Malcolm and Juan chose males, who pressed on their backs with their hands and arms, and then moved to their arms, legs, and feet; then arched the back and stretched the whole body in yoga-like positions. "Psst, Malcolm, this is making me horny." "Me too, Juan, try not to think about it." Suddenly, Malcolm's man was walking on his back, while pulling his shoulders back, while Juan's guy pulled his little fingers, toes, ears, and cracked his knuckles. Maria thought the whole exercise was like a dance, and everyone agreed they felt better. They also learned that if they want this kind of therapy, to be sure to ask for an "old lady" massage. In Thailand, a "young lady" massage is something quite different. Feeling immensely comfortable, they walked across to the National Museum, but found they couldn't get in because they were wearing shorts. They decided it probably wasn't any fun anyway. .oOo. Juan's blog February 2 - Sà-wàt-dee (Hello). Happy Ground Hog's Day, everybody. They don't do that here in Thailand, but they do have a lot of strange customs. They put their hands together like they're praying to say hello. When you go inside you take off your shoes and you take a big step through the door. Some places, you gotta pay for toilet paper; Malcolm laughed it would cost him more money if we was girls. I guess everybody here is Buddhist, and there are lots of monks, and they don't like it if you make fun of Buddha. Pepito found that out when he was acting silly in a temple. One of the first things we learned to say in Thai was bprà-taan tôht. That means I'm sorry. We say bprà-taan tôht a lot. It's rude to touch people, so if we accidentally bump someone we say bprà-taan tôht. And you can't crumple up the money or step on a coin because the king is on it. And in a restaurant you can't cross your legs 'cause someone might see the bottom of your foot. You can't even ! let the statues see your soles! In our hotel room there's a Buddha over the head of the bed. He's there so he doesn't see your feet when you're asleep. Except sometimes, we're doing something else and one of us is lying the other way. Or we're lying on the bed holding our legs up by our shoulders. And then we realize Buddha can see the bottoms of our feet. And we say "Oops, bprà-taan tôht, Buddha. It was an accident. We didn't mean it." And I think Buddha forgives us, 'cause maybe he was a little dèk chaai (boy) too once. This evening, we took a water taxi on the big river in Bangkok. It cost 8 baht, which is like a quarter, and we could see temples and museums on the bank shining in the sunset. And we saw the royal barge for the king. We waved to all the other boats. It was fun. Laa gòn (goodbye), Juan .oOo. "You sure are buying a lot of film." Malcolm was in one of the stores off the hotel lobby, when he noticed a Thai man in his early thirties, carrying a large bag that he correctly assumed held camera equipment. "Sà-wàt-dee, my name is Kovit, Aran Kovit. Yes, I'm a photographer." "I'm Malcolm, from America. My nephew is a photographer too. He does free lance, often sells his work to the National Geographic. I gave him his first camera when he was a young boy, a dèk chaai, did I say that right? I'm showing a couple dèk chaais your beautiful country." "Yes, it is beautiful, but have they been outside of Bangkok?" Malcolm shook his head. "Most tourists never get out of the city. They should explore the countryside." "Sounds wonderful. You speak English very well, by the way." "I studied biological science at Cornell. Right now I'm working on an assignment for the International Wildlife Association, to document all the flowering plants of Thailand. It allows me to see some beautiful scenery, but the work itself is kinda boring, cataloguing every species. Say, how would you like to come along with me. I'd love the company, and the chance to practice my English." .oOo. Riding in Aran's jeep the next day, the whole family was awestruck by the bucolic fields and lush forests, dotted with small exotic Buddhist temples. "I grew up in this province." Maria asked him why he ever left such a beautiful area. "Well, it's rather a sad story, I'm afraid. "When I only a little older than Juan here, I was taken to Bangkok by a man who promised my parents I would go to school and learn the tourism business and make a lot of money for my family. I discovered what he meant was not working in a hotel or restaurant but entertaining European pedophiles. I was so ashamed. But I did make money selling myself, my dtòot, for their pleasure. I wanted to help my poor family, so I swallowed my pride and became a dòk tong, a prostitute. I naively gave the man the money I earned to send to my family. "A year later my cousin Virote was also tricked into coming. That's when I learned my family never got any of the money. In reality we were slaves. Virote and I decided we had to escape. One night, a man hired me but not for sex. Instead he fed me, talked to me, and asked if I wanted to go to a mission that rescues street children from this life of prostitution. I refused to go without Virote. So the next day, we both escaped. We grew up in the mission." Maria was shocked. "I can't imagine someone forcing a little boy to do that." She hugged her two niños. "Well, the problem is rampant. The government says they are trying to crack down, but there are probably 12,000 kids each year who are tricked and sold into the business. Unfortunately, the tourism industry knows why these men come to Thailand, so they don't want the laws enforced. Child prostitution is a billion dollar business. I've seen kids younger than Pepito being sold for sex. Men from Germany and other countries know they can go to "Washington Square" downtown and walk into a "painter" bar and buy a drink and a little boy or girl to fuck. These kids are abused, sick, malnourished and, if they don't make enough, beaten. "Where's this mission?" Malcolm asked. "I'd like to make a donation to their work." "It's the Nan Youth Development Association way up north. They could use the money." .oOo. They spent a wonderful day with Aran. The boys sometimes held a ruler beside the flower while Aran took the picture. And they helped him make notes about the location of each specimen, its English, Thai, and Latin names, and a technical description of its blossom, leaves, stem and seed. They were getting their science lesson. Malcolm, as he walked the hillsides, kept thinking about the problem of child prostitution. He had no sympathy for the traffickers and slave owners. He wasn't sure about the parents whose lives were so desperate, they'd give up their own children. But then he thought about the johns. These Europeans who flew halfway around the world to fuck little kids. Malcolm knew firsthand the pleasure of pedophilia. But he couldn't see himself hiring a boy like Juan for a one night joyride. But then, he knew how lucky he was. What would he be tempted to do if he had not found boys like Juan, and Rip, and Tony, and all the others, boys with whom he shared a bond, not just a bed. If these men could freely love young children back in their home countries, without interference from government agencies, would the problem of child prostitution just disappear? .oOo. That night Malcolm got into bed with his two sweethearts and hugged them close. "Aran was teaching me some more Thai words today, boys. Juan, you are my kôo non, my lover. And Pepito, you are Juan's pá-raa-don, his brother, and Maria is your maa-daa, your mother. And dâai bpròht means please and kòp koon means thank you. Those are good words for you boys to remember." "Hehe, Señor Aran daught us some words, doo, Malgum." "Yup, Pepito's right." Juan jumped up, stood on the bed and wagged his dick in Malcolm's face. "This is my ong-ká-châat." "And dis," Pepito pushed Juan aside and put his pretty little bottom in front of Malcolm's nose, "is my dtòot!" "Your dtòt?" "No, hehehehe, my dtòot. My dtòt is something else. Here, hehehe, I'll show you." With that Pepito let loose a fart right in Malcolm's face. "THAT'S my dtòt." And both boys started laughing hysterically. "And guess what," Juan continued. A dtòot can be an asshole, or a bottom, or even a faggot. A homo. And pêt sam-pan is having sex." "And om means sug. I think they gall it dat 'cause you gan say it while you're sugging." "And dtaai hàa means Oh shit!" "Well, dtaai hàa, you two certainly learned a lot from Aran. Let's see if I can remember all those, Pepito, dâai bpròht om my ong-ká-châat, and get it all ready so I can stick it in Juan's dtòot, and have pêt sam-pan." ________________________________________________________________________________ Want to change your life? Find the perfect job with Lycos Jobs. Career Advice. Job Resources& Recommendations. Post your resume& find a job match!