Date: Wed, 25 Apr 2001 14:43:49 -0700 (PDT)
From: Steve Moreton <stemoreii@yahoo.com>
Subject: Singapore Adventure 1

Singapore Adventure 1
Steve Moreton (stemoreii@yahoo.com)

This is a work of fiction. None of the characters is real, the locales
are. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. The story was
originally posted to Nifty in 1997, and only recently did I find out that
some parts were missing, so here it is again, complete.

Singapore Adventure(c) Stephen Moreton 2001

One

	It was not my first visit to Singapore, but the first time I had
been to that particular swimming pool.  A friend had suggested that I might
enjoy it, that it was "interesting". Interesting? Well, hardly. I had
chosen to go out there early afternoon, and there were few people there,
and they were almost all lounging in whatever shady spots they could find
near the pool to escape the tropical heat, or paddling leisurely up and
down and across the pool.

	I joined them for a while, but tiring of the heavily chlorinated
water after a short time, I decided there was nothing there for me, and
gathering up my clothes from the locker I had hired not long before, I
headed for the change rooms.  When I got there, I made straight for the
showers, dumping my clothes on a not very dry bench before rushing to wash
the chlorine out of my hair.

	Only after I had placed myself firmly under the showers, and had a
good wash did I notice that I was alone, or almost. Further along was a
boy, undressing carefully and modestly, in the style I had become used to
in Asia. I didn't take much notice of him, but continued my shower, then
ambled out to start the drying and dressing process. As I did so, the boy,
now wearing only his colourful skimpy underpants passed me, heading for the
shower stall I had just left.  As our paths crossed, our eyes met, just
briefly, and I thought I detected just a glimmer of interest before contact
was broken.

	As I started to dress, I heard the shower start, and turned around
to face that direction, so that I would have room to move. They boy was now
in the shower, and was vigorously washing his hair, his back towards
me. Then he slipped down his briefs, and I could see his whole
body. Nothing remarkable. From his height, I guessed him to be about twelve
or thirteen years old, very slim and delicate in that Asian way, with small
round buttocks. His spine and shoulder blades stood out as he moved in his
ablutions.

	He turned around to face me, and I took another furtive glance. His
face was round, the nose rather flat and the lips quite red His almond eyes
glistened with the water flowing down from his short black hair. On his
chest, his nipples, small and undeveloped, stood out dark pink against his
golden skin. My eyes moved down quickly to take in the rest of his wet
body. A black shadow of pubic hair, just starting to grow, surrounded his
cock, but otherwise he seemed to be hairless. His legs, slim but well
shaped, streamed with the flow from the shower.

	He didn't notice at first that I was looking at him, but suddenly
he looked up and saw my interest. Straight away, he turned his back to me
again and went on with his washing, and I continued to dress with no
further interest. But when my head came through the neck of the sports
shirt I was pulling over my head, I saw that he was facing me once again,
and that his little cock was now sticking up at a stiff angle. He was
making no effort to hide it.  I gave him a little smile, but said nothing
and continued to pull on my clothes. The boy turned off the shower and went
over to his clothes, along the bench from where I was, and started
towelling himself dry. As I put on my shoes, I could see, out of the corner
of my eye, that he was dressing quickly, an easy task as he was only
wearing a T- shirt, shorts and sandals. We finished dressing almost
simultaneously, and as I got up to leave, he turned to me and spoke.

	" Er... excuse me sir, may I ask a favour of you?" His voice was
low, boyish, and rather nervous. His accent, the specially lilting
Singapore English I was only just getting used to. What favour, I
wondered. A bus fare? Money for a drink? I hesitated a moment.

	"It's not much, really...I don't want money." This even more
nervously. There seemed nothing to lose, so I smiled and said: "Well, go
ahead. Ask. I might even say yes."

	" Sir, can I touch your beard?"

	The request wasn't as strange as it might have seemed in Australia
or some other Western country. In Asia, I had actually had the experience
once of someone rushing up to me and touching my beard gently to feel what
it was like, then rushing off again without a word.  In a part of the world
where beards like the one I have cultivated carefully for so many years are
not a normal physical feature, it was understandable that a kid might want
to see what it was like.

	"Go ahead," I told him. He came over and put his hands on my face,
and slowly ran them down my beard until they met at the bottom. As he did
so, he looked at me and smiled, a little fearfully, I thought, and I was
struck by the sweetness of his face with its nervous grin.

	"Did you like that?"

	"Oh yes, thank you. I've wanted to do that for such a long
time. I've seen so many foreigners with beards, but until now, I've always
been too afraid to ask. I was scared they would think I was strange, and
not let me touch them. Can I do it again?"

	He did, several times, then asked if I was about to leave. I said I
was and he asked if he could walk with me a little before I went wherever I
was going. As we went along, he asked my name, Simon Maxton, what I was
doing in Singapore and where I was staying. He told me he was just
thirteen, his name was Benjamin Chow and he lived quite near the pool. He
was an only child, and his parents worked in their shop in one of the many
shopping arcades. They came home only after shops closed, so he was alone a
lot. Apart from doing his homework and watching TV, there wasn't much to do
at home, especially that week, as he was on holidays, so he often went to
the swimming pool with his friends. However that day, none of them were
free.

	As he chattered on, he seemed to relax more and more, and his
questions to me became more detailed. How old was I? Thirty-one. Was I
married? No. Had I come to Singapore alone? Yes. How long was I staying?
About a week? And so on. I interrupted once to ask him how to get a bus
back to Orchard Road, and he told me he would take to the nearest bus
stop. It turned out to be in front of a housing estate block, one of those
massive buildings which seem to make up so much of the island state's urban
areas.

	"This is actually where I live," he announced in a voice that
seemed to be a mixture of pride and apology. "Our flat is on the top
floor. Would you like to see it? It's very hot today, and I could give you
a cold drink!" He seemed almost too anxious, and for a moment I had a
feeling that I was being set up, for a robbery perhaps. I knew it wouldn't
be the first time such a thing had happened. I hesitated, looking at my
watch. I didn't actually have anything else to do that day, but I wanted
time to make up my mind. Should I take the risk? Oh, what the hell. It was
hot, and I could do with a drink. I'm a big man, quite used to taking care
of myself, and he seemed so harmless. I agreed, but said I could only stay
a short time.

	We went up in the large, creaky, dark lift. By the time it reached
the top floor, we were alone. He led the way along the balcony, and taking
a key from around his neck, opened the door. The flat was large, larger
than I expected, and well equipped with modern stylish furniture, obviously
not cheap stuff, and I felt more comfortable as he politely invited me to
sit down while he found me something cold to drink.

	As I sipped my Seven-up, he chattered on, telling me about his
school, a private English-medium one, his favourite pop songs, how he liked
being an only child, and what he hoped to do with his life (he wanted to be
a writer, or maybe a scientist, or even take over the family business, he
wasn't too sure). Then, he shifted the conversation to me. What work did I
do? A cartographer. What's that? Someone who makes maps. What was the work
like? I described it briefly. Did I get a good income? It was
reasonable. Did I have a house or a flat? Did I own it? Did I live alone?
Yes, I told him, I live alone in a flat I own. Did I plan to get married?
No. Why not? I said I had chosen not to. Didn't I like women? Yes, but I
didn't want to marry one. But here, he informed me, everyone gets
married. Perhaps I didn't like women, he suggested, his eyes lively and a
little touch of a smile at the edge of his lips. Yes, I did, I had many
women friends. So why didn't I marry one of them then?

	I hesitated. Should I tell him I was gay or not? I thought quickly
of the alternatives. If I told him the truth, would he be worried? Would he
understand? Then I thought of him naked under the shower, and decided.

	"I'm gay, that's why. Do you know what that means? I like to make
love to men, not women."

	A big smile came over his face. "Are you really? Really?"

	"Yes, really and truly. What do you think about that?"

	"I'm so pleased you told me. I've heard of gays before, from
classmates at school, but I've never met one before, and I don't know much
about it. What do gays do for sex?"

	This was almost too much! What did he think I was, a sex education
teacher? I gave him a brief, general answer.

	"There are only a certain number of holes in the body, and we make
the maximum use of them." No detail, you see.

	This set him thinking for a few moments, then he went on: "I'm
sorry to ask so many questions, but there simply isn't anyone else I can
ask, and I need to know, I really do."

	Why? Could the reason that was coming into my mind be it? I decided
to ask.

	"This is really a very great secret, but I think I am gay. I don't
know, and I thought if you or someone could tell me what gays do, I might
sort things out." This with a look of some sadness. So I asked him to tell
me why he thought he might be gay.

	It was the usual. He liked being with boys, He liked to watch males
changing at school after physical education or in the change rooms at
swimming pools He often dreamed he was in his best friend's arms, they were
both naked and they were kissing each other. He was sure there was more to
it than that, but he didn't know quite what. What did I mean about holes in
the body?

	I decided I might as well go the whole way and tell him, so I
explained about oral sex, and anal sex in rather clinical terms, checking
to see that he understood the language I was using. Yes, he had done some
biology at school and knew the terms. When I had finished, he sat there
thinking for a minute or so, looking at me with his bright eyes fixed. Then
he asked what one does if one doesn't have a partner. So I mentioned
masturbation, and asked if he had ever done it. No. How was it done? Would
I show him?

	I hesitated. I was in a strange home, his parents or someone might
come in. I was not in the habit of engaging in sex of any kind with young
boys. He interrupted me to say that no one would come in, he was sure. His
parents always phoned from the shop to let him know they were on the way
home, and there was no one else likely to visit at that time.

	"Please, Simon, show me!" This said with an urgency in his voice
that had not been there up till that moment. Tears appeared in his
eyes. "Please!!!"

	Slowly, I sat down on the leather sofa. "Are you quite sure?" I
asked, still trying to make up my mind.

	"Yes, I'm sure. What shall I do?"

	"Can we go into your bedroom? I will feel happier there."

	A big smile appeared on his face, and he took me by the hand and
led me into a small bedroom, furnished with a single bed, a wardrobe and a
student desk. One the wall were some photos and pictures cut from
magazines. Nothing suggestive of sex or sexuality, just pretty scenes of
distant places.

	I looked at him. There was a look of eagerness in his eyes, and
when I glanced down at him, I could see that he had an erection pushing out
the front of his shorts. Take off all your clothes, I told him, it's more
fun that way. I decided to do the same, but I scarcely had my shirt off
before he was standing naked in front of me, his erection now pressing hard
against his stomach. I peeled off the rest of my clothes, and my shoes, and
sat down on the bed.

	He came closer, and I put my arms around him.  He gave a little
shiver, then the tension I had felt at first went out of him and he melted.

	"Is it like this in your dreams? With your friend?"

	He nodded and started to hug me tightly then I felt him kissing me,
first on my chest, then moving up until he reached my lips. His kiss was
light, and I decided that if he was going to kiss, he might as well do it
right, so I started pressing my tongue against his puckered lips. At first
he tightened up, then slowly relaxed and let it slip into his mouth,
further and further until it seemed I was touching his tonsils. He pulled
back, then started kissing again, but this time his tongue entered my mouth
in the same way. He held it there briefly, then pulled back, grinning. "You
said you could use the mouth!"

	He pressed against me, pushing me down onto the bed. I drew him
along side me, and holding him with one arm, put my hand on his cock. It
was a lovely little cock, about seven or eight centimetres long, uncut, but
with the little red head just peeping out of the foreskin. It throbbed
under my hand as I held it for a moment. Then slowly, I circled it with my
fist and started to move it up and down, slowly at first, then at his quick
and almost breathless urging, faster and faster.

	I could tell when he was going to come. He started panting, his
cock started to throb wildly, and suddenly, there it was. Not a lot, and
rather thin, but still sperm. He looked down at it, gave a sigh and lay
back on my arm. When he had caught his breath, he looked at me and said:

	"That was wonderful. I've never felt anything quite like it! No
wonder people like to do it when they're alone. But look at you! Your thing
is as hard as can be! Do you want to do it? I'd like to watch you."  But
instead of watching, he took hold of my cock and started doing to me what I
had just done to him, staring down at it with great concentration.
Needless to say, in the state of great excitement I was in, I came quickly
and copiously, shooting out sperm over my belly and chest, and even onto my
face. He was fascinated, and wondered aloud why he didn't have as much. I
explained about age, and he accepted that without question.

	Suddenly he slipped out of the room, and came back with a wet
towel, and proceeded to wipe me and then himself clean. Then, without a
word, we both slipped quickly into our clothes.

	"I'm so glad I met you," he murmured, "you've taught me so much I
needed to know. Can I see you again?"

	Once with a young boy in his home, I thought, was quite enough for
one trip to Singapore, so I answered that I was rather busy, and wasn't
sure I would have time. Besides, I had enjoyed this new experience so much,
and didn't want to spoil the memory of it by trying to take the matter any
further. And to be honest, I was scared stiff of involvement with someone
as young as Benjamin. I have nothing against sex with anyone if they are
keen and willing, regardless of age, but in an up-tight city like
Singapore, with its officially strict anti-gay policies, God help someone
like me caught in bed with a young boy!

	So I answered that I was not sure of my movements over the next few
days, hoping he would get the message.  He said nothing, though I noticed a
light go out of his eyes, and he said he would see me to my bus. We went
down, silently, in a now busy lift, and he took me off to get my bus. As it
drove off, I saw him give a little wistful wave. I smiled back, and then we
were away, and my Singapore adventure was over.

TBC