Pimped in Bango

"He wants you to blow him and take his cock."

"The colonel speaks English. He was talking to me in English out on the tennis court. Why are you asking for him? If he wants me to give him a blow job and let him fuck me, why isn't he being brave enough to ask me directly? He knows from the looks we exchanged on the tennis court that he can have me."

I didn't mean that to be flippant. It just came out. I was actually nervous as hell and feeling the "out of class" here. There was a black bull of a U.S. Army major to my right in the shower, who was the one who had just addressed me, and a tall, trimmed down but hard-bodied Thai Army colonel to my left in the shower, who was proposing--through the American officer, for some inexplicable reason, although his wish was quite clear to me--that I kneel to him and blow him, probably right here in the shower room, and then lie down and open my legs to him. All three of us were stark naked. I'd caught the Thai colonel's signal to the others in the shower to leave, and they'd done so. This was his army base. All three of us were in erection, but the two of them were older and more muscular and magnificent of body and better hung than I was. The colonel's attention went to those leaving the shower, which gave the American major and me a moment to talk about this. In any case, I was going to be fucked. That didn't surprise me anymore, though.

"Just go with it," the black major whispered. "You and I arrived at the tennis courts at the same time and he thinks we came together. He needs to believe that I'm arranging this with you."

"And so?" I said, even more nervous than before as both of the men were now moving closer to me. The Thai colonel had a hand on the small of my back. I couldn't pretend I wasn't interested, because they could clearly see my hard-on. And I can't claim I hadn't done it before. I just hadn't done it except for one guy on one night in the two months since I arrived in Bangkok, Thailand, in August of 1978, to teach social studies as the International School of Bangkok and to coach soccer there. I was twenty-three and just out of graduate school. I'd gone with men before, and preferred older men than I was, if they were in good shape. And these two were combat ready. I was a player, but I'd figured my teaching position abroad would force me to be very circumspect, if not abstinent altogether. These two older men, the major maybe in his late thirties and the Thai colonel in his early fifties, were nothing short of magnificent--better than I'd ever had before.

The American major was a hulking body-builder muscleman, broad of chest, narrow of waist, and gigantic of cock, with low-hanging balls. His thighs were as thick as tree trunks, his face square-cut, somewhat thuggish, but in an alluring "God, I'd like to try that out" way. His hair was black and kinky, cut short, like a Marine. I wasn't surprised to find the major here at the Saturday morning tennis, as we'd discussed the tennis invitational when we'd first met. He'd been the one who fucked me a few nights earlier, and this was the first time I'd seen him since then. He was that one guy who had done so since I'd arrived in Bangkok--so he knew I would do it. And, not only that, but he'd also found that I was easy. It wasn't hard to be easy for him. We'd met at a gay bar and he'd taken me to a sleazy small hotel room and worked me over magnificently. He'd remarked on how well I'd taken him, and I had admitted I was open to casual sex. I was only now learning that he'd had me invited me to Saturday morning tennis to use me.

In contrast, the Thai colonel, while hard bodied, was tall and slender, with aristocratic bearing and refined facile features. He did have a rigid military manner and cruel look about his face, which maybe was more a result of having an in-command position in a somewhat authoritarian country. Where the American looked like he'd be exuberant and forceful in sex, the Thai looked like he'd be methodical and cruel. They both looked like sex with them would leave me wiped out and exhausted, but in a different way from each other. Sex with the American major

did

leave me wiped out and exhausted.

"He is being polite," the major had said before the Thai colonel came back to us. "Since you arrived with me, he thinks I am your pimp and that it's my permission he needs to cover you. It's natural that he would think that. I do that here in Thailand. I provide younger men for men in power positions--not for money. For favors, often to advance U.S. interests. The colonel here, Phichit Phaphon, is the commander of the Thai Military Academy here and a member of the Grand Army Council. He's our host on Saturday mornings for our pickup tennis matches. Some of us come here because we are expert tennis players. Others come here to network and exchange favors on the national security level. I sometimes bring a young man here in pursuit of the latter activity. So, he's asked me about you--he asked me to give you to him."

"So, you are, in fact, pimping me to the colonel," I said.

"Yes," the major shot back, and he turned away from me to soap up. The Thai colonel was back and was feeling me up. So, according to the major, the Thai colonel already knew a lot about me and I knew a bit about him--most important that he was turning me on and that chances were very, very good that I'd let him inside me.

I'd come to Saturday tennis--or at least that's what I'd thought--because I had done well in collegiate tennis and had been invited here by a political officer from the U.S. Embassy, close by the grounds of this military school on Wireless Road in Bangkok. I had to consider now that the diplomat had been motivated to give me an invitation because the major asked him to. I was told they both worked for intelligence offices. So did I on the sly when called up, as something called a NOC--a sometimes, as needed non-official cover agent. Both of my parents worked at the CIA and I had been cleared for "sometimes" duties when it became clear that I planned to take jobs, like this one at the International School of Bangkok, abroad. I had thought that being gay would prevent that work, but my contacts at the Agency had said that that actually would be useful in some operations.

As the embassy diplomat was driving us over to the military academy tennis courts, he said something strange to me.

"I've been told that you're a NOC--confidentially, of course, but I wanted you to know that and that I've been told we could call on you to do some work for us."

"OK, I understand," I'd said. But I hadn't understood it all.

"We know you have an arrangement with a JUSMAG major," he said, naming the big, black bull of a U.S. Marine officer who was humping me.

Oh. "I wouldn't call it an arrangement," I said. "We hooked up once."

"So far."

"Yes, so far."

"Want you to know he has something going at tennis and that he's coordinated with us on activating your NOC status. We want you to do as he asks. He needs to have something done today at tennis."

Oh, again. "OK," I said, having no idea what was involved. It turned out that the Thai colonel, Phichit Phaphon who was involved.

* * * *

Colonel Phichit, imposingly taller than I was, slender, hard bodied, hung, was very close to me where the three of us stood under cascading water in a communal shower room where the colonel had invited us to get cleaned up after a morning of tennis. He'd moved to fondling my genitals. As a senior Thai officer in a military authoritarian country, he evidently thought he had latitude to do what he liked in this respect. Especially as an American military man was here and not shocked by the colonel's forwardness, I didn't feel in the position to resist. That and the man was a real stud. I had no reason to want to deny him.

He had gravitated to me on the tennis court and we'd played quite well as partners there. He was good at tennis; I was better and he'd been impressed. He obviously was impressed with me otherwise as well and was interested in playing well together as partners in another sense. He was rock hard, the bulb of his erection pressed into my upper hip. His hand had moved down my back onto my buttocks and an index finger had entered my crack and was rubbing across my hole. I wasn't countering him, so he had every reason to think I'd let him enter me with more than just his finger.

"The colonel is a good friend to the United States," the major said. "We'd like to keep it that way."

Ah, in support of U.S. policy objectives. That was as good excuse to go under the man as any, I supposed.

"Just so you know, it's because I want to," I said to the American major in a low voice.

I turned to the colonel, went down on my knees on the tiled floor, slick with soapy water, opened my mouth over his shaft, and gave him suck.

When the Thai colonel was satisfied that I knew what to do with my mouth on a cock, he became curious how well I could take one inside me. He reached down, palmed my belly, and pulled me up, turning me to face the back tiled wall. Water was still cascading down on us from an overhead showerhead.

"Palms to wall, hips jutted out," he barked, in standard Army tone. He could speak English perfectly--with a British accent. I don't know how much of the exchange between me and the American major he'd heard, but as long as he was getting what he wanted, I guess he didn't care. I was just an object of tension relief for him. He was arrogant enough to believe he could have what he wanted. For some Thai officials, maintaining good relations with the Americans was marked in receiving bottle of Johnnie Walker Red as gifts. For Colonel Phichit it was in being provided young men to fuck. I was up today.

I did as commanded, my legs spread and jutting out from the wall, my palms and cheeks pressed to the slick tiles. I yelped as he slapped me, not too gently, on the rump several times and then gasped as he went down on his knees, grasped my hips in his hands, and buried his face in my butt crack. I moaned as he expertly ate me out, one of his hands snaking around my hip, grasping my erection, and jerking me off.

When I had released my cum in a shot against the back wall with a jerk, the colonel stood, saddled up, mounted me, penetrated, and fucked the hell out of me. He was big, vigorous, cruel--and, it seemed, quite impersonal. Just getting himself off. He gripped my throat tightly, pulling my head back into his chest, controlling my breathing, and slapped me hard on the buttocks as he fucked me, and I wondered--with aroused curiosity, I am embarrassed to admit--how much crueler he be in a venue where we had more privacy. If we weren't naked in the shower and he had access to a belt or a whip, would he lay into me with it?

The black major stood close to us, a hand on my shoulder. His other hand was on his cock, stroking it, and I looked at him with dreamy "I wish it were you" eyes. When I turned my face up to his, thinking we'd kiss, he stuck a beefy thumb in my mouth for me to suck on.

After palming my belly with one hand; grasping the hair on the back of my head with the other one, arching my torso back into his chest; and pounding away in my ass, the colonel came inside me. He wasn't shy in his taking of me, no doubt still thinking of me as just one of the whore boys the American major had picked up to pimp to him. The major reached in, grasped my cock, and stroked me to another release while the colonel was fucking me.

This was 1978, before the AIDs crisis, but only shortly before, the epidemic coming to light in Bangkok in the early eighties and by way of an American embassy official; the male hairdresser he'd brought into the country ostensibly as the tutor for his children, the children who went right back to the states, leaving the hairdresser in Bangkok with a diplomatic passport; and the young Thai boyfriends the official added to his bedroom. By then, although still in Bangkok, I had managed to see the signs of danger and was using protection. On this day, though, in the showers at the Thai Military Academy, the presiding colonel loaded me up with cum, breeded me deeply, pulled out, grunted, slapped me hard in the buttocks again, and left the shower to dry off, meet his orderly at the shower room door, and march off to his office for some Saturday catchup work.

My unexpected services weren't finished, though. The black bull U.S. Army major pulled me off the wall, turned my back to the wall, lifted me up, settled me down on his cock, hooked my knees on his hips, and fucked me. He was gloriously bigger than the colonel had been, younger, more vigorous, and, if anything, crueler in the fuck. Throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my face into the ebony hardness of his chest, I hung on for dear life, yelping at his cruel thrusts, loving every pain-passionate ravishing blow of it. He wasn't sheathed either--in those days, for alpha men like the black major, condoms were for women to avoid paternity suits, not for other men.

I gasped, panted hard, and whimpered in the process of taking him in. Shit he was big inside me, and strong, and forceful. Was this what it was like to be taken by a black bull? I'd never had it this big inside me. I'd never been fucked by a black bull before the major. And breeded--I'd never been pumped so full of cum as this. This was glorious. Oh, fuck yes!

I was fairly swimming in cum after he and the colonel, combined, were finished with me.

The black major never was finished with me--not until the day he was rotated out of Bangkok years later. The Thai colonel, Phichit Phaphon, wasn't finished with me either until after several more Saturday morning tennis sessions followed by fuck sessions.

"Well, you were a surprise," the major said when we came out of the building where the military school's gym facilities were.

"You knew I would take it," I said.

"Oh, yes, just not as enthusiastically as that."

"Is that a good thing?" I nervously asked.

He laughed. "Yes, that's a very good thing indeed. You're a sexy little spitfire." He put his hand on my back at the base of my spine. "You're one sweet little piece. And a natural golden blond. That's a rare treat out here in Bangkok. And a nicely cut, tight little body and channel. It was fun stretching you. You were a perfect gift for the colonel."

He was assessing me like I was a piece of meat. He was so cocky and self-assured to be baldly talking about my body like this. But I didn't mind--it was arousing to be referred to in these terms; they obviously weren't negatives from his perspective, and he'd played me like a violin. I'd offered no resistance whatsoever. I could still feel the stretch he'd put my passage to. I was smitten with him. He was a black god. My first black. They'd always scared me. He still scared me. I wasn't going anywhere as we stood out on the stairs into the military school building until he released me and left me there. But he didn't leave me there.

"I'll drive you," he said, moving his hand to my buttocks. "I'm Mike LeBeau of JUSMAG, the advisory group to our friends in surrounding countries. We're headquartered here in Bangkok. We didn't introduce ourselves the other night, at the Patpong bar."

"You were finding me too easy then, I think--wanting only one thing from me."

"Yes," he answered honestly. "And you gave it to me without a fight."

"I'm Aiden Pope," I answered. "I teach at ISB--the International School of Bangkok." I don't know if mentioning where I worked and what I did there was a last-ditch effort of mine for him not to put me in danger by enslaving me sexually. If it was, it didn't work.

You've already driven me--hard--was my thought. But not being anxious to part with him and already being under his spell, I accepted the ride. Even that early, all he would have had do was beckon to me and I would have happily--if painfully--ridden him. All thoughts of going abstinent with men now that I had a high school faculty job were out the window. Just two fucks--one a seriously in-heat gay bar pickup and one hurried and furtive fuck under cascading water in a tiled shower--and I was lost to the man--to the man's cock. After fucking me in the shower, he'd pushed me to my knees and I had worshipped his monster cock with my hands and mouth while cleaning him off. He'd been impressed enough with the attention to have held my head to him while I tried to deep throat him and to have ejaculated again.

He'd muttered "You're a keeper" then, and I only later realized what he'd meant by that.

As we moved toward the parking lot, he stopped, turned to me, and said, "When you were invited to shower here, and others weren't, you knew, didn't you?"

"Yes, I knew." Or I strongly suspected. Most of us had played tennis bare-chested. I knew I looked good. The colonel looked good too. The American major looked like a god. I knew how the colonel looked at me, that he gravitated to play in the foursome I was in and then asked me to partner him that it wasn't just my tennis play. He touched me as we passed each other on the court. I knew what he had in mind, what he wanted from me. I could see that he was hard in those tennis shorts. I was just ecstatic when he brought the major with him. "I hadn't any of this in mind when I came here," I said. "But, yes, I knew what the colonel wanted."

"And that you'd provide it?"

"Yes. I know he's important here. I'd like to continue to be able to play here Saturday mornings. I want to keep my tennis up." I didn't mention that the guy from the embassy had invoked my NOC status and told me to do what the major told me to do.

"Come looking like this next Saturday and you're sure to keep a lot of the men up here. You have the colonel by the short hairs now. You OK with what happened in the shower? The colonel won't leave you alone after that."

"You think so?" I asked. "He acted like I wasn't even there--that I was just a hole for him to use."

"Oh, he liked you a lot," the major said. "He didn't use you up; he wants to spin you out. You OK with that?"

"Yes, I'm OK with it." More than OK, since you were part of it, I thought. But I didn't say that.

"Use me up?" I then asked.

"Sometimes he beats the guys while he fucks them so that they leave on a stretcher."

"And you would have let him do that to me?" I asked.

"It's the job," was all he said, looking away. I looked away too.

When he started up the car, he didn't ask me where I lived or where I wanted to go--and I didn't try to give him a destination that would part him from me. The military school was located near where Wireless Road, its Thai name being Witthayu Road, originally named because it originally went between the British Embassy and the embassy's communications antenna field--this before Bangkok had built out this far, ran into Sathorn Road.

He turned into Sathorn Road that went to the Chao Phraya River near the Khlong Toei waterfront. The living compound of JUSMAG--the Joint U.S. Military Advisory Group--located half way down Sathorn toward the river from the U.S. Embassy on Wireless Road consisted of four former houses, with stuccoed walls and red-tiled roofs and offering a dozen bedrooms, with baths, and assorted living and kitchen facilities, all around a large swimming pool. The walls of the compound were high enough to keep the noise in and the nosy out, and all the protection the compound needed was the burly body-beautiful hunks who served at JUSMAG.

JUSMAG was one of those billets the U.S. Army kept for its gay male servicemen who had distinguished military histories and/or powerful backers, the issue being one that was kept secret and in the closet in that era. Gay servicemen knew that and coveted being sent here, especially since it landed them into a paradise of "anything goes" that was Bangkok. Thai men were known to be bisexual, more interested in the act than in the gender of the partner. Thus, it was into a hotbed of gay hedonism that Major Mike LeBeau, nicknamed 10/2 because of the length and girth measurements of his monumental shaft, drove me to at noon on that Saturday. He gave me a cursory tour of the compound but then a hours-long workout in his bedroom. It didn't matter that I'd already given twice at the office that day.