Thai Boy

I gave Prasang the money to pay the receptionist at the front desk. They chatted a bit in Thai and she handed him the key.

My hand caressed his back as they talked. He felt smooth and warm. My drunken excitement was growing. I couldn't keep my eyes off his body, I was anxious to get him alone and strip those clothes off him.

He flashed me that grin, like sunshine breaking through clouds, and took my hand. I had asked him to be my boyfriend tonight and it certainly appeared he was willing to play the part. He guided me down the hall.

The walls of our room were covered in a gaudy, brown stone paneling. The carpet and bedspread were a loud orange, the same color Thai monks wear.

Prasang put down his bag. I waited in the middle of the room. He swaggered over to me smiling and wrapped his strong arms around my waist. His tattoos looked like tiger stripes coming out of his t-shirt. I smiled at him and combed my fingers through his thick, black hair. He held me with those wing-shaped eyes of his, then leaned in and kissed me.

His lips were full and sensuous to the taste. I felt the dazzle in my mouth as when biting into a succulent fruit. A wonderful shudder, then a tingle went through me and down to my cock.

I opened my mouth and accepted his hot tongue. I grew hard as I suckled it. Our tongues slid against each other. I pushed my swelling groin against his.

When I pulled away, he smiled at me doe-eyed. "Beautiful boy," I whispered. I couldn't help myself, he was so attractive it was almost too much. Undoubtedly the sexiest man I'd ever kissed.

I lifted up the bottom of his t-shirt and slid it over his silky, washboard stomach and chest. It came clean off and dropped to the floor.

I ran my hands over his bare shoulders, eager for more of what I'd experienced at Male Body Palace. He had the most fabulously smooth skin. Hairless as he was, there was no friction whatsoever as I ran my hands over his torso.

I cupped his pecs, squeezing them like firm cantaloupes. I flicked my fingertips over his chocolate brown nipples to make them stand out firm.

He looked down, watching my hands explore his body. He smiled with approval, seeming almost as fascinated by his physique as I was.

I lifted up his arms. "Flex for me again, please, Prasang, let me see that muscle man pose."

My cock snaked upward as he pinned me with those glittering black eyes, apparently attempting to make me melt into the floor.

He clenched his fists and flexed them taut, holding his arms in the double biceps pose once again. I squeezed the rock-hard mounds. His pecs bulged, as well, as though served up to me on a platter.

Still squeezing, I leaned in for another savory, hot kiss. This time, the open coil of his mouth accepted my tongue. He held his muscle pose as I familiarized myself with the curves and contours of his body, from his flexing arms to his manly chest and back again.

"Beautiful," I whispered again, my mouth inches from his. "Just beautiful."

"Thank you," he said softly, looking pleased.

"Now I want you to keep these biceps tight, okay?" I said.

Prasang held his pose as I circled around him, brushing his rib cage lightly with my fingertips. I pressed my thumbs into the strong, accentuated lines of his back, into the tattooed figure of the Buddha. "Ahh," he moaned.

I worked my way down with my thumbs, all the way to his stone-washed jeans and the swell of his ass.

I watched him in the big, plate-glass mirror on the opposite wall, eyes closed. His pink mouth formed delicate Os as he took in what he was feeling. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips like a tiger, as though he too enjoyed the taste of them.

I watched myself behind him, a taller, bulkier, pale white guy in a t-shirt and jeans who was definitely not in Prasang's league. Yet, that somehow made it all the more exciting, knowing this amazing male specimen was flexing for me and going to allow me to get him naked enjoy him completely.

I watched us both as my arms circled his waist and found the button of his jeans. His biceps remained tight as I unfastened him and pulled down the zipper.

I watched myself in the glass, rubbing the fabric of those white briefs with the red band he'd been wearing at the club. He cooed, almost completely hard beneath them.

I pulled his pants down over his legs and all at once, he was dressed just as he had been: naked but for the shimmering white speedo that starkly contrasted his brown skin.

I allowed him a moment to sit on the bed to remove his shoes and socks and to liberate his ankles from his jeans. One of his pecs twitched as he undid his laces.

Now his beautiful legs were free, thick and sporty as a hare's. I had never had much interest in men's legs before spending time in Asia. Asian men have the most gorgeous legs, I think because there is virtually no body hair to obscure their shapeliness.

When he strutted toward me again, nearly naked now, he planted his feet shoulder length apart. His toes twitched. His lip peeled back in a cocky, boyish half-grin. To my delight, he resumed his double bicep pose without having to be asked. He was ready and willing to give me the experience I wanted and to play by my rules.

I traced a green-blue vein through his flexing arm. I hooked the finger of my other hand into the red elastic of his briefs.

I pulled back and snapped his undies against his body as we made out. His lips tightened around mine and he chuckled through our kiss.

I pushed his briefs down around his thighs. I did not see, but felt as my fingers combed through coarse pubic hair, then cupped his naked, hanging manhood.

"Ahh," he sighed into me as my hand moved over the petal-smooth skin of his cock.

He was a healthy, athletic young man and his tool reacted immediately.

I stroked him and worked his body. He moaned into my open mouth. His breaths were growing stronger, more frequent. I felt his bare chest swelling against me. Once he was fully erect, I backed away to have a look.

Hard and flexing, Prasang opened his eyes and beamed that beautiful, champion smile at me. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

I starred, spellbound by his hardon. He was big where it counted. About the same size as me, in fact, though not quite as thick.

Prasang's entire body had a tidy, clean look to it and his cock was no exception. It was attractive in a way most men's cocks are not attractive. It looked the way an erect penis really should look, threaded with veins and sporting a big, round ball of a cockhead. Prasang was uncircumcised and the purple tip of his penis was peeking shyly out of its foreskin, tight and shining like a nectarine.

It looked so very suckable.

I, of course, had not removed a single article of clothing. That is not really my thing. I love CMNM and I prefer to strip a man naked while I remain fully clothed. It's not just for the power it gives me, but for the opportunity to focus on and appreciate the other man's body completely.

I stared luridly at Prasang's splendidly nude form, moving my eyes up and down, drinking him in. I gave him a moment to take in this fact. That he was naked and vulnerable before me and flexing like a sex toy.

I saw the first blush on his cheek. His confident smile wavered a bit. In my silence I was starting to make him uncomfortable and he felt embarrassed. That was how I wanted him. He was an Adonis and he knew it. I was ready to take him down a few pegs.

I went over and sat on the queen-sized bed with the bright orange bedspread. I pointed toward my feet. "Come and stand here in front of me, Prasang."

He did as I asked, looking a little less cocky now. The head of his penis bobbed proudly before him as he approached.

I squeezed the big, round head between two fingers and pulled back the chocolate-brown hood of his foreskin. The red lips of his cock parted as it withdrew.

Prasang made a face, "Ack."

"You alright?" I looked up at him. He did his best to smile, "Yeah." His foreskin must have been a bit tighter than it looked.

I cupped my hand under his balls. They felt hefty and full and his scrotum was snug around them.

I slid my mouth over his gorgeous tool. The mushroom cap of his cock was moist, but there was almost no taste at all. He was so clean, like newly washed vegetables wrapped in a damp tissue. I felt his tight stomach expand as he drew in a long satisfied breath. "Mmmm," he purred.

I sucked him long and deep, savoring him, enjoying him. I closed my lips around the thickness of him, clasping the loose skin of his shaft with my mouth as I moved back and forth.

I took my hefty meal in further, ingesting him inch by inch, allowing myself to grow accustomed to his girth. Once I had him almost all the way down my throat, I started to gag. Tears sprang to my eyes. I choked, but it felt wonderful.

He moaned. I felt the head swell at the back of my throat and release a healthy dose of pre-cum. I sucked it all down greedily. It was salty and tangy. Delicious nectar.

He placed a hand on my head and guided my mouth, sliding it up and down his bone-hard member.

I reached up and lifted his arms, wanting the double bicep pose again. I wanted him in this position at all times, striking that most virile of stances like the Greek statue of an Olympian. I wanted his manliness on display for me. I relished and feasted upon his masculinity, sucking it out of him and drinking it in.

I kept one hand on a hard bicep. The other handled his balls. They were like ripe, hanging plums in my hand.

I sucked greedily, then decided to pull out. I was in so deep by then, it took a moment to dislodge myself from him. Tears were streaming down my eyes and I sat panting, catching my breath. I pumped his saliva-slick tool with my fist to make sure he stayed hard.

"Do you like that, Prasang?" I asked, struggling a bit to find my voice. I looked up at him. He was still flexing, drinking in the experience with his eyes closed. He opened them and smiled down at me. Bathed in the overhead light, he looked like a benevolent demigod. "Yes."

I continued stroking. "Do you like a man sucking your cock? Making you hard until you cum?"

"Yes," he smiled generously, "I like it very much."

"As much as when your girlfriend does it?"

I saw discomfort rise behind his eyes. He didn't seem eager to talk about his heterosexual side even though he had admitted earlier that he was mostly straight. He claimed to not have had a girlfriend, but who knew?

His reluctance peaked my interest.

I poked my head around his body and admired his figure from the back in the mirror. I watched myself on the bed and him standing there in front of me, biceps flexed taut, the muscles in his back standing out strong. The tattooed Buddha watched me with tranquil eyes.

I admired his buttocks. Tight, protruding and enticingly curved. They appeared to have been smoothed and sculpted by a Renaissance master. They were a shade lighter than the rest of him: a creamy, milk-tea brown. One single black-inked flame ran, tear-shaped, into the crevice of his ass. It was a perfectly erotic touch.

I reached up and stroked it, then pinched the area where it disappeared into his crack.

Between the black ink of his back and the dark, cinnamon hue of his legs, his bare buns seemed particularly pale, vulnerable and exposed. They seemed designed to be touched, caressed, and groped.

I tapped his thigh. "Sway for me please, Prasang." He looked down at me, not understanding the word. "What?"

"Sway your hips. Move them back and forth." I rocked on the bed to demonstrate.

Still holding his pose, he began slowly moving his hips. His moist cock bobbed up as he flexed it. I seized it again. His foreskin was sliding back into place and I wanted to keep him exposed and hard.

I glanced over to watch his tantalizing, athletic buns sway in the mirror, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. It was as smooth and fluid a movement as milk sloshing from side to side in a saucer. I watched as one cheek went taught and the other relaxed itself, then vice versa.

"So tell me," I said with his cock in hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, "What kind of girls do you like?"

He looked down at me, unsure. His smile froze on his face. "What...kind of girls?"

I watched his buns shifting hypnotically back and forth in the mirror. Again he did not seem too keen to talk about this aspect of his life, which is why I wanted to push him further. I was paying good money and wanted to know.

"Yeah," I began sliding my hand up and down his shaft again, feeling it stiffen. "You said you are about seventy percent straight, right? I'd like to know what makes this cock of yours hard."

He looked uncomfortable as he swayed, not sure what to say. I reached down below his balls and tapped his inner thigh. "Spread your legs a little more for me."

I heard him swallow, I could see nervousness on his face. I had no idea how many "clients" he'd actually had, but it appeared this was new to him and he couldn't quite guess where I was taking this.

He flexed his cock in my grip, then inched his bare foot across the tacky, orange carpet.

"A little more than that, you can spread wider, the other one too." He looked a bit taken aback by the authority starting to creep into my voice. I had him in an uncomfortable position and was pressing my advantage.

He spread his legs further, until they made a nice, wide V-shape. This looked incredibly hot in the mirror. I reached over and gave his naked, bubble butt a nice, hard pinch. "Owe," he laughed nervously. "Move your buns, Prasang, nice and slow."

As he started moving again, I continued. "Do you like legs?" I trailed my finger lightly from the dimple of his thigh down the slope of his shapely, hairless leg. "A lot of guys like girls' legs." I heard him gulp audibly, "Yeah."

"Or what about tits?" One hand still around his cock, my other hand roved up his stomach and copped a feel of his pec. "Do you like a pair of big, round tits on a girl, Prasang?"

I reached around and grabbed a handful of his swaying ass, watched myself squeezing it in the mirror like a ripe melon. "Or what about a nice, round ass. Everybody likes that, isn't that right?" He flexed his buns taut against my grip as I squeezed harder. "Yes, MMF, yes, I guess so..."

"So then tell me, my sexy Thai boy, what part of a girl makes this big, suckable cock of yours hard?"

He was blushing deeply now. Still flexing, still swaying, it seemed the cat had his tongue. He was clearly hoping I wouldn't make him answer, but I held him with my gaze the way my hand gripped his cock.

He gulped more audibly. "I like...I like a girl's legs, I guess..."

I caressed his sinewy, smooth legs again. "Yeah, legs are great...nice and sexy...like yours." The alcohol I'd had earlier was making my tongue loose and the words came easily. Prasang tried to smile at me. I saw how eager he was to please me based on how much he wanted the money.

"What about me, Prasang?" I asked casually enough. "Do you think I'm attractive?"

He looked down at me stupefied, his face rather pained. When he didn't answer, I squeezed his erection a bit too hard for comfort, "UMF."

"Well?"

"Yes...yes, of course," he said eagerly as his cockhead started to turn crimson in my grip. "Yes, you are very attractive." His buns moved back and forth a bit faster in agitation. I did not release my hold on his cock.

"In what way, Prasang, what makes you think I'm attractive?"

I tapped his ankle with my shoe. "Spread your legs a little more. Come closer to my eye level."

He drew in his breath and slid his feet further across the carpet, spreading his legs even wider. He chuckled again uncomfortably.

"Don't stop moving those gorgeous Thai buns, now. You should keep them moving until I tell you to stop, understand..? What do you find attractive about me? Be specific."

Prasang swallowed harder, almost as though he was going to choke. His hardon was going a bit soft in my hand and flexing desperately for release. He continued swaying his bare buns helplessly back and forth. "You-UMPH...you have nice eyes."

"That's good, tell me more. Come down further." He spread his legs further apart to the extent his cheeks were now parting and I could see the shadowy entrance between them when he shifted.

"Keep flexing, and let me see that pretty smile." My voice no longer sounded friendly. I was commanding him as if I owned him.

He was able to choke something out. "Your eyes-OOMF- are a very nice color green and you look very handsome."

"Do you like my hands squeezing your cock and balls?" I continued stroking his cock with one hand. I cupped his balls in the other.

"ERMF! Yes, yes it feels very good. Your hands are big and strong," he said in slight desperation, trying to smile and keep his cool.

I smiled at this. "They are, aren't they?" I applied pressure to his balls. I kicked at his ankle again. "Wider, Prasang. I want you to spread your legs until I can see your hole in the mirror."

I heard him grit his teeth a bit now as he inched his feet still further across the carpet. The muscles in his legs were taut, his hamstrings stood out. He was down very low now and very spread-eagled. Uncomfortable as he was, this was far better for me. A few more inches and we would be nearly at eye level.

One of his legs started to tremble. He was spread so wide I could now see his hole between his pale, light brown buns. Like the rest of him it was cleanly shaped, a lovely little round cherry between his clenching cheeks.

I tapped his thigh, "Don't stop swaying, now, Prasang, move your buns for me."

Prasang showed me the briefest flash of contempt in his strain. Was I crazy? All the same, he gave it the old college try. He swallowed hard ("Umf") And did his best to keep shifting his ass, though his movement was mostly restricted now. He could do little more than clench his bulbous cheeks together. Clench and relax. Clench and relax.

I took the little bottle of rubbing oil from 7/11 out of my pocket. I lubed up my palms with it, then applied it to his cock and balls.

His semi-flaccid cock turned steel hard as I lubed him up, sliding my hand back and forth quickly. His mouth fell open. His breathing intensified. "Oh...oh..."

"Do you want me, Prasang?" I asked him sharply, holding him prisoner. Stroking his cock in one hand, squeezing his testicles in the other, forcing moans of pleasure and discomfort out of him.

"Yes," he said, sounding desperate.

"Tell me."

He looked at me, watched my hand running up and down his erection. His left leg trembling badly now. He tried to remember to flex and unflex his buns. "I want you."

Still holding his biceps in place, he did his best to give me that pearly white smile, even as he flinched.

"Again," I said.

He held me with those fathomless black eyes as best he could. "I want you," he whispered.

"One more time," I was hard and throbbing in my jeans. He formed the words as sensually as he could. "I want you."

"Do I make your cock hard, Prasang?" He grimaced in his discomfort, then smiled as sweetly as he could while I stroked his oily manhood. His breaths were heaving. "Yes."

"Tell me," I looked into his eyes, now just inches above mine. "I want to hear it. One and then the other."

"I want you...you...make my cock hard," he said.

"Again," I smiled.

Prasang clenched and unclenched his buns. He cleared his throat, trying his best to act the part. Now both legs were beginning to quiver.

"I want you, you make my cock hard."

"And you want to be my boyfriend, don't you?"

I gave his balls another hard squeeze in my grip. "OOF!" I stroked his cock wickedly. I had him trapped.

"You want to be my boyfriend, don't you, Prasang?" I demanded, pinning him with my eyes.