Writer's note: This story contains dominance, submission, gay-for-pay, spanking, and humiliation in public places. Just a heads up in case that is not your cup of tea.
***
At the beginning of my third and final week in Thailand, I decided it was time for us to head to the beach. I booked us a luxury bus to Pattaya, a city about sixty miles south of Bangkok on the Gulf of Thailand.
The bus was air-conditioned and the seats were roomy and comfortable. Prasang and I sat at the back where we could have some privacy.
Prasang was in particularly good spirits as I had just paid him his weekly salary. It was more generous than what most "escorts" in Thailand could hope to make in months and on top of that I had thrown in an extra bonus.
I knew what I was putting him through and he was handling it beautifully. He was playing the part of my 24/7 sex slave with enthusiasm, allowing me to use him however and whenever I wished, subjecting him to partial or even full public nudity as I had done days before at the clothing store with Chakrii and Gamon.
He called me "master" and submitted to my every whim, for which I felt he had earned something extra. A good deal extra, in fact.
Sitting next to me on the bus, he smiled with affection. Once again playing the part of the good boyfriend, he squeezed my hand in his and even leaned in for a tender kiss.
I reached down, rubbing and caressing his cock through his silky sheer shorts: the emerald green ones I loved so much that were all but transparent and revealed everything.
He moaned as his big, thick tool came alive and grew in my hand. He parted his lips and my tongue entered him. Deep and hot. He moaned into me as I teased a brown nipple with my thumb, pinching its hardness.
I had dressed him in one of the loose-fitting tank tops that covered almost none of his impressive, muscled torso. I loved him to be naked. He was born to be naked, to have his body looked at, admired, and used by others.
So I was careful to choose clothes for him that left nothing at all to the imagination. This way I could still fully admire his body when we were out and about, and so could everyone else.
To top it off, I had him wear the spiked dog collar I'd bought at Sexy Guy, tight around his neck like a choker. This was accompanied by matching leather wrist cuffs. Symbols of his servitude and my ownership of him, at least for this period of time.
The ride to Pattaya was around three hours. Once we were out of Bangkok, the scenery became long stretches of tropical vegetation, interspersed with small villages and locals at their labors.
The bus was not crowded at all, there were no more than six other passengers, all seated in the front or middle. Those closest to us, some five rows up, were a couple not so very different from the two of us.
A sharp looking white man in his fifties with white hair and a well kept goatee. The other was a Thai boy, probably around Prasang's age, though much more slim and petite.
The man had his arm around the boy's shoulder and they almost looked like father and son. It wasn't long before the man leaned in and kissed the boy full on the mouth. The boy opened, receiving the man's tongue into him.
This was not a terribly unusual site. Thailand is very gay-friendly and same-sex couples are ubiquitous throughout. As, for that matter, are attractive, young Thai men and women with foreign tourists, under a similar agreement to the one I had with Prasang. Though ours, of course, was something more particular.
I nudged Prasang and directed his attention to the older white man making out with the Thai boy. Prasang, who had been lost in thought, smiled in acknowledgement.
"I think we can do better than that, don't you, Prasang?" I said quietly. He looked at me, not understanding. "Pardon, master...? MMF!"
All at once, I assaulted his mouth with an oppressive kiss, lips pressed firmly to his, forcing them open and pushing in my tongue. I felt his body spring to attention beneath me at this sudden invasion. His mostly bare skin erupted in gooseflesh and his nipples stood up hard. He sucked my tongue desperately as I pushed it into his throat, feeling his mouth spasm around it.
All the while, I'd been rubbing and stroking his cock through his silky sheer shorts. I slid my hand down the front, grazing his pubic hair, and seized his full, thick erection. He moaned around my tongue.
With my other hand, I pulled down his shorts and brought his cock out into the open air, feeling it go completely hard as I stroked like a cucumber. Feeling his heartbeat racing within as I squeezed.
When I pulled out of him, panting, we both looked down, both seemingly fascinated by his towering, hard tube steak, naked and unsheathed right there in the open air of the bus.
I slid my clasped hand up to the big, round, purple head, parting the lips with my thumb and squeezing until it turned a shade darker and a bead of sticky liquid oozed out. Prasang groaned as I squeezed as much of his juice out as I could and onto my finger.
This was only the beginning. By the end of the journey, I would squeeze everything I could out of that gorgeous, male tool.
I tasted the pre-cum on my fingers, then held it to Prasang so he could lick off the rest. I enjoyed his little grimace of distaste whenever I made him sample his own flavor.
I leaned both of our seats back as far as they would go. The eyes of the older man and his boy had been upon us and I did not want to attract any more attention from the other passengers or the driver.
When I was sure no one was looking and the driver was fully focused on the road, I told Prasang to lift up his arms.
I lifted his tank top up over his head and stuffed it into the netting on the seat in front of him.
He nearly protested when I pulled down his sheer shorts to his ankles, but then swallowed it down in a half-choked gulp.
I unhooked the shorts from his feet along with his cheap flip flops and then my boy was naked, completely and gloriously naked the way I loved him to be, right there in the reclining seat of a luxury tour bus. I admired him, smelled him. I had rubbed massage oils into every inch of his naked body that morning, just as I did every day, and the aroma was sweet and pleasant as a spring flower.
He made another audible gulp as I positioned his hands behind his head. The leather cuffs each had a little circlette and I hooked them together. Prasang could break them easily, but it was just a helpful reminder that he should keep his hands in place.
"Hands stay behind your head at all times, understand?"
"Yes...yes, master." He swallowed hard against his tight dog collar. His tattooed arms flexed. He looked down at his boner in embarrassment and he was starting to blush.
I got the little bottle of oil out of my pocket and drizzled some onto my hand and onto his big, towering cock. I began to stroke, tenderly, slowly. So slowly as to unnerve him a bit. Up and and down from the very base to the very tip.
We went over a bump in the road which forced my hand down his shaft with a jerk. He gasped and thrust his hips into the sensation, unable to control himself. "Stay still, Prasang," I said sternly, "Keep your body under control while I use it."
Prasang took a deep, frustrated breath, closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. I closed mine, as well, taking in what I was feeling. Prasang's cock felt endless in my grip. I took my time, contemplating its size, its girth, the oily slickness of it. I heard gentle moans escape his lips, aching for stimulation. He breathed deeply to keep control of himself as I enjoyed him.
I squeezed myself down into the canal where his feet rested (it was a very spacious bus) and parted his bare legs. With my hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, I leaned down and went in, closing my mouth around the thick, round head. Licking the piss slit and tasting the salty liquid on my tongue. Prasang's moans were mostly drowned out by the roar of the bus's engine, or at least I hoped they were.
The big vehicle went over more bumps in the road, forcing Prasang deeper into my throat. Now it was my turn to gulp and gag. I took him down my throat as far as I could. It was not easy, and every thud in the bumpy road forced him further down. At last, my lips touched the bristle of his pubic hair. My eyes were streaming as I took him all the way down. He pushed himself into me and I choked on the thickness of him.
I pulled out again. With my head swimming and the movement of the bus making me dizzy.
I hoisted myself up between his legs to look out the window. I stroked the big column of Prasang's dick thoughtfully as I saw we were now in a moderate sized town with a dusty road. Our bus came to a halt and let two people off. Two twenty-something foreign girls got on, chatting in lovely English accents. One was blonde, the other brunette.
The blonde one spied Prasang far in the back, shirtless and reclining with his hands clasped to his dog collar, before joining her friend in the third row. The white-haired man's head was turned toward the window, though I got the sense he was watching us, admiring Prasang out of the corner of his eye.
"What do you think of them, Prasang?" I said still positioned between his legs. I was a bit hoarse after gagging on him so hard. The bus roared to life once again drowning out our conversation. Prasang looked down at me nervously and swallowed against his collar. He tried pretending he didn't know what I was talking about, but I was sure he did.
