I wandered the back streets of Pattaya looking for him.
The lights and the noise spilling out from the cafes and bars were a distraction, as were the bar-boys trying to grab me and pull me into their establishments. In truth, many if not most of them were more attractive than the guy I was looking for, certainly more masculine. Nevertheless, I was sticking to the plan.
Find him, fuck him and then pay him.
I'd been in Thailand about a week and a half, with most of that time spent in Bangkok. My company had sent me out to a conference on Internet security in Hong Kong and I'd decided to extend my time in Asia by burning through some of my leave. After the divorce I'd thrown myself into fully into work for a couple of miserable years and HR was happy I was finally expending some of my stockpile of days. I'd mixed day trips around the cultural sights of the capital with nights spend in the red-light districts of Soi Cowboy and Nana Plaza, but my company so far had all been female.
Of course it had been. I was a heterosexual man, until recently married for over a decade and father to three children. There was no question...
Or at least there hadn't been.
I'd met him for about thirty seconds yesterday. I'd woken up around eleven, next to Anong, the bar-girl I'd taken back to my room two nights in a row. We'd had breakfast and gone to the beach, but things had gotten awkward. She had enough English to negotiate and play dumb drinking games, but not enough to be any kind of good company for any extended period during daylight and she was clearly bored as I lay on a sun-lounger and reading novel. So we parted ways, agreeing to meet up again at her bar in the evening.
After finishing my chapter, I had decided to go for a stroll. I'd been in the town for a few days but most of my time had been spent on the beach and on the main strip which provided most of the night-life. I found myself exploring back streets.
He'd approached me the same direct way all the bar-girls did, if not more so. He just walked straight up and said "Hi, honey. I'll give you a good time. Sucking. Fucking. Everything."
"Oh, eh, no thank you," I'd said, stammering. I'd been kind of caught off guard. As I scurried away, I turned around to look at him again and he'd given me a cutesy little wave.
He was a strange intoxicating mix. He was highly effeminate, but not a ladyboy. Sure he was wearing eye-liner and a muted lipstick, and had a pixie cut of bleached blond hair, but it was different. The katoeys went all in on performed femininity -- big hair, big lips, big everything. He wore simple ripped jeans and t-shirt rolled up at the bottom to show his midriff. He had a higher-pitched voice, but wasn't trying to mimic female speech. He was naturally camp to their exaggerated vamp.
I was still thinking of him later as I scoffed my plate of green curry at one of the beach-side cafes. Rather I was thinking of the opportunity he presented.
I'd wanked to gay porn at home. Not consistently, only on occasional, when I got bored of the same heterosexual acts performed by the usual blonde American pornstars or super-kawaii Japanese girls. I'd watch a bit of man-on-man action and then switch back to straight porn before finishing -- 'just to be on the safe side'.
Sufficed to say, I'd never acted on these urges.
But if I was ever to do something, it could be here -- six thousand miles from home. No-one would ever have to know.
It wasn't until that night that my mind was made up. I met up with Anong as planned at her bar and, after a couple of drinks, I bar-fined her. We went to eat and then later, as we were walking hand-in-hand on the beach she turned to me and said "My friend saw you today."
"Really?" I said.
"Yeah, she said you were walking round the gay area."
I hadn't realized at the time that that was what it was. Thinking back, maybe there had been a few rainbow flags and maybe I should have paid closer attention to some of the name of the bars. Everything had been shut up though and I'd been lost in thought.
"Just looking, of course," Anong said quickly after I didn't reply. She didn't bring it up again.
Later when she was blowing me, I started to think about what it would be like if it was him slurping hungrily on my dick instead.
Which was crazy, because Anong was absolutely gorgeous.
On a whim, I asked her if she would do anal sex. She wouldn't. We made love as we had the previous night. To call it good would be faint praise, but still, somehow, through no fault of her own, I was bored with her.
Before I went to sleep, I had resolved what my next move would be.
It would have made sense to have gone back to his location at the same time of day as before. Instead, my resolution had wavered. I spent the day in my room torn. I read everything I could find on the Internet about gay sex and watched some porn videos -- searching for Asian twinks. It didn't help directly, but I did reach a conclusion. It was the act or rather acts that had me curious. I didn't find men in general attractive.
Except for him.
He'd somehow said ten filthy words to me and here I was weirdly obsessed with him. Whatever his name was.
So, a little while after it had gotten dark, I headed out. I wondered if Anong would have her spies out again. It was was it was though. The girls had a name for men like me -- butterflies. We flit from beautiful flower to beautiful flower. She'd be well used to the disappointment. I was leaving town tomorrow regardless.
I wandered up and down the rather small street several times without seeing him. The bar-boys mistook each return as my coming back for them or at least they pretended to. If I couldn't find him, would I still go through with it? Was there even a second choice on this strip? None of the greeters took my fancy, but I could, in theory, go into one of the clubs and see if there were any amongst the dancers who measured up. I only needed to buy a single drink - no need for commitment. Hell, maybe he was a dancer in one of these places. I didn't really know.
Or perhaps I should go to a lady-boy bar. All of the sexual acts without the label. I been considering it even in Bangkok, but now it seemed like a half-measure. If I was going to do this, I should own it.
It was on my fourth circuit, with me still trying to come up with a plan B, that I saw him. He came out of a side alley, sharing joke with a friend. He saw me at the same time that I saw him and my reaction told him everything.
He sauntered over, cool as anything and put a hand of ownership on my chest. "I'll make your evening," he promised.
In reply, I simply kissed him. First, it was a peck on the lips, but a moment later it became a full snog.
It should have been like kissing a girl. Everything was essentially the same -- our relative heights, his body language and the lipstick. Somehow it was different though. At a basic animal level, yes, it was different. Maybe it was the pheromones. Even behind whatever strong floral scent he was wearing he smelled differently. Male. Almost wrong.
But not quite.
I took him back to my hotel room.
This involved the Walk of Shame. I'd done it many nights previously -- a forty year old foreigner heading back to their hotel holding hands with a girl twenty years their junior. Everybody who looked in your general direction knew exactly what was going on and a fair few of them had a good idea of for how much as well. Still, you also passed fellow couples on the way -- he'd look at your date and you would look at his and weigh up for a moment how each measured up. This time as we walked down the main strip, most looked once and then away.
As we entered the hotel, the bellboys and receptionist acted with complete professionalism and complete indifference. It was just a normal Wednesday night.
As I closed the door to my room, the first thing he did was pull his top off. He was skinny but had just a hint of muscle definition in his arms and chest. Running from his shoulders down to his torso he had a flower tattoo -- a rose with exaggerated thorns. A moment later and his jeans and briefs were off as well and before I had time to react I was in his embrace, his hand on the crotch of my pants. A kiss lasted ten seconds and then he pulled himself away.
"Be right back," he said and disappeared into the bathroom leaving the door open. Thai girls never did anything in the bedroom without a visit to the shower first -- a good policy given the constant muggy heat. Obviously that went for the boys as well and it was only polite that I followed his lead.
I undressed, rather more slowly than he had done, and went to join him.
I was clearly expected. He moved from soaping himself down to rubbing the soap all over my chest without comment. I took the bar off him and started to apply it to his back. The intimacy and the feeling of flesh started to make me hard down there. As I looked down at my own manhood, I saw his was also on the rise and soon felt it press into my thigh. It was not large, but somehow it was also bigger than I'd been expecting.
I was flattered. With women you rarely got such an immediate and obvious endorsement. Not one that couldn't be faked. I was paying him, but it was also something he was looking forward to. That was nice.
He reached down with a sudden hand and started to stroke me, half washing and half teasing. I let my hand wander down to his ass. It was lean and round and not materially different from the other petite whores I had been with in recent days. I went in to kiss him again, and we locked lips under the falling water for a good minute.
Halfway through I took the plunge, moving my hand to his hardened cock.
The sensations should have been familiar but instead it was strangely alien. Obviously, I was well versed with the sensations from my own erect penis, but that touch is so connected with act and pleasures of masturbation that the raw feel of touching another man's hard dick felt oddly disconnected. I moved my fingers up and down shaft, hoping it felt good for him. My dick was already fully hard in his own hand.
He broke it off without warning. He simply stopped stroking me, took my hand away from his own dick and then jumped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and started drying himself as he walked out of the bathroom. I would have followed him, but I still had the shampoo suds in my hair and had to wash them out. I got my own towel, but didn't immediately leave. I brushed my teeth again, partly out of paranoia and partly out of a sudden attack of doubt. Touching was one thing, but were we actually going to fuck? As I dried myself, I looked at my image in the mirror. A bisexual man, I decided. Seemed so.
When I came out, he was lying on the bed, one hand just keeping his cock hard. I noticed he'd put a condom and a bottle of lube ready on the bedside table. I stopped at the head of the bed, not sure how to proceed.
"You...," he started to say. "You never fucked a man before or you never fucked a whore before?"
I guess I'd been nothing but a bundle of nerves all evening. "A man," I said. "I mean I never..."
