The Fiery Dragon Ch 03

The Fiery Dragon Ch 03

David meets Phillip's Father before he leaves China

This is a chapter in a longer story set in China, about fifty years ago, at the beginning of the first interactions among Americans and Chinese on their territory. All characters are over 18. © Brunosden, All Rights Reserved.

Quick Summary of Ch 01 and 02: David Lee is working as a summer assistant to a Chinese guide. The first chief guide was replaced after he "permitted" some tourists to wander off. The second, Phillip Tang, was much younger and apparently much better connected politically. There were additional incidents, but Phillip survived. Shortly after they met, Phillip took David to The Fiery Dragon, a secret club for high-up party officials and their sons. One side was hetero; the other was homosexual. At the club, Phillip had taken David's virginity before a small audience. David was a sensation, due in no small part to his enormous cock. No one had ever seen one so large. Within a few days, David, immature, but with Clark Kent/Superman looks and body (and dick), had fucked Phillip in a surprise encounter. It was a dramatic first for David. And although the sex had been initially orchestrated by Phillip, the "leadership" of the relationship had shifted to David as Phillip had fallen in lust with David's wondrous "fiery dragon." They have just finished their second epic fuck....

The story continues in David's voice.....

I relaxed in his bed as he went to the bath to clean himself up from the loads of cum that I had deposited on and in him. As he returned, my cock had nearly returned to "normal size"—about six. I got up, moved to my bed, and pulled back the cover, and stood there waiting. I looked up and he was waiting for some cue—the dominance had moved from him to me.

"Get in, boy. Yes, Phillip. In my bed. We are sleeping together tonight. Yours is soaking with our juices." He went silent and hesitated for a second. Then he climbed in, stretched out and turned away, inviting my spoon. So I reached over and pulled him in, molding my chest to his back. He settled right in. I thought maybe this might be the ideal time to learn something more about him. So I started whispering questions—as my fingers continued to massage his chest, occasionally reaching down to verify that his shaft was indeed still interested in "talking."

"Tell me about yourself, Phillip. Now that we know each other so well—so to speak."

"Well, you know the basics, I think. I'm 24, actually 25 next week. I'm an honors graduate of Shanghai International University. I'm the oldest son—there are three of us, including my youngest sister. My family lives here in Shanghai. Has been here for hundreds of years. Father is military. Knew and served with our illustrious Chairman Mao. His first wife died childless during the Revolution. He married again, years later. So, he's much older than you might think—nearly 70 now. He serves on the Party Committee that runs this city and the surrounding Province."

"And how about you? What are you expecting to do?"

"My specialty is foreign policy. And obviously, I've studied American English. I presume that, with father's help, I'll be in the Foreign Ministry within a year or so. First, I must prove myself totally loyal to the Party by accepting any assignment they want—like this silly guiding of unimportant American tourists, hoping that one or more of them will convey some secret or some weakness that we can exploit."

"And how does The Fiery Dragon fit in?"

"That's a problem of course. Father introduced me to the club a few years ago. He assumes, I guess, that I'm finding release with the women there until I find a wife. I do from time to time. But we never discuss it. Prostitution is a crime in China. I'm pretty sure that he uses—or has used--both sides of the club. But, I'd never ask. Even knowing would be dangerous—for both of us."

"If Sun-yat, the manager, were not one of us, I presume father would already have been told of my repeated assignations on the other side—and I'd be on a farm somewhere in the west, being re-conditioned to normalcy. Or maybe Sun-yat and Papa have talked—and Papa doesn't care, so long as I'm discrete, marry one day and give him grandchildren."

"You see, even the female brothel side of the club is a bit dangerous. The People's Republic has eliminated all forms of Western degeneracy—prostitution, abortion, adultery—and, it goes without saying, homosexuality. Even sex within marriage is suspect—after the couple has produced a male heir. But contraception is okay. Large families are disappearing. We are trying to control the growth of our population—and exert the ultimate control that any regime might have over its people—to control their sexuality. Only a little prostitution remains—particularly among the elite who make the rules. And even that is only possible in the bigger cities and under the cover of total secrecy. I guess that the average person in Shanghai would be shocked to learn of the existence of The Fiery Dragon. But many of the rich and powerful use it regularly."

"So you will continue to live a hidden life? Someday with a wife and a son?"

"Few escape the Party. It is my destiny. I'll marry. I'll pretend. And, following in my esteemed father's footsteps, I will serve China. Perhaps I will continue to be able to frequent The Fiery Dragon. After I marry—or if father should die before I've established myself, going there will become intolerably dangerous, and I'll have to give up my favorite pastime. I understand. But, I'm told that the life of a homosexual in the United States is not much different. Am I wrong?"

"No, you are correct. I think. Frankly I hadn't thought much about it. You are my first man—in fact my first partner. So, I've not needed to think much about it. Although things are changing. And there no longer is legal prosecution. Just societal exile. And maybe issues with high level security clearances."

"And so, David, there is little more we can do. Conform. And, if we are fortunate, find the occasional secret pleasure and relief. Meanwhile, I'm grateful that you and I are together. We Chinese have learned to live in the moment. Lightning strikes only a few of us—and we can escape to Singapore or Hong Kong. So let's enjoy what we have while we can. There is no future for us. So we'll live for now. Shall we have another go? You've got me nice and hard. I'd like to enter your chute again—this time in private and for me, not for the show."

"Speaking of the show. Isn't it incredibly dangerous to fuck with an audience? Any one of those guys knows your secret and could destroy you."

"Ah, but doing so would require them to expose themselves as well. None of us is entirely sure that our fathers use only one side of the club. None of us knows how well connected a father is at any given moment. Part of the idea of The Fiery Dragon is that all the young guys have performed—in public, and so all are equally exposed. Mutual fear of outing is a very powerful deterrent. And a terrific aphrodisiac. Fear of exposure always makes it better. Now, roll over David. I wish to take you. You have given rebirth to my humble penis. It is stiff and my balls are again full. My little dragon wants to fly."

We shifted in the narrow bed. He lubed and prepped me. Then he crawled partly on my back and pushed my left leg forward, as I lofted my ass for his use. His lips and then his fingers moved to the rim and penetrated, applying lube. He was soon pumping his last load of the night into my butt. His dick was exactly the right size to massage my prostate. What a welcome nightcap! As we both slept in the narcotic of our joint funky, musky aroma—he turned away and again spooned into my gut.

******

The two weeks with our peer tour turned out to be much more of a challenge than either of us anticipated. Many of the participants "cut" the added lectures and went out to do some personal sightseeing. In Nanjing, several of the guys who had heard from a friend about a "hot" Chinese nightclub with dancing and alcohol, went in search of it after curfew. They found it and enjoyed several hours of un-chaperoned contact and dancing with young "new-Chinese" men and women. The fact that they were American made them celebrities of a sort. And they danced closely with many of the attractive young Chinese girls, hoping, I think, for more. By the end of the evening (actually, the early morning), they left the club, drunk—a crime in China, although largely ignored if the drunk is Chinese. They were immediately apprehended and escorted fairly roughly by the local police back to the hotel.

Phillip had a difficult call from the Party that morning. I feared that, like Chen, he would be replaced. But, apparently his father had way more influence than I could have imagined. And our guests had done no harm. Just a bit of inebriation. And a few dances.

But, at the Great Wall, their conduct nearly resulted in an early termination of the entire tour and immediate deportation. Our routine there had been established in the first tours. We gathered for lunch at the famous Great Wall Restaurant, an enormous buffet of dozens of Chinese dishes. Then, the tour members were given "free time" to walk the wall. Since in the past, our tourists had been of varying physical condition, we allowed freedom to walk as far (or not) as desired. The bus was scheduled to leave the restaurant for home at 6 p.m. So they had four hours of free time on the wall.

The departure time approached. Four guys were still not reporting in.—the same four who had broken curfew a few days before. Later we learned the full story—or as much of it as the authorities were willing to convey. The guys had chatted up a group of young women at the buffet and had left in their company to walk the wall together. Once one had walked a few miles away from the restaurant, the walk became quite private—almost no one ventured that far. And so, guys being guys and girls being girls, they had decided to have a private party in one of the periodic guardhouses—now abandoned stone rooms, one at the level of the wall walkway and one large room above. There was alcohol. We never learned the source. The couples paired off and were partially disrobed and heavy into make-out sessions. A few of the guys may even have scored. An elderly Chinese couple happened to pass through the guardhouse at that inopportune moment. They were shocked to see public sex—with Westerners no less--and alerted the tourist police who descended quickly on the group. The boys and girls were separated. And the boys were taken to the local jail.

We didn't know any of this at the time scheduled for departure. Phillip, of course, was responsible. So he instructed me to accompany the rest of the group back to the hotel on the bus while he investigated. It took him all night. He arrived back at the hotel with the four in tow, handcuffed and under guard, early the next morning. That was the last straw. All four were supervised as they packed, were taken by the authorities to the airport, sent home, and declared PNG (persona non grata). The statement was stamped brightly over the Chinese visa in their passport. They could not return while the passport was in effect—probably for up to ten years. And any other foreign travel would encounter issues when the admitting immigration officer saw the stamp.

I shivered at what might happen if Phillip and I were discovered.

At our next and last stop (Beijing), our smaller group was unusually quiet and observant of every rule. And, once again Phillip avoided the ax. His father must be REALLY powerful.

The incident didn't dim our ardor. We were into each other at every free moment. In a few short weeks, he had awakened a passion for male on male sex in me that I could never have imagined. It was close to a dependency. No, it was a dependency. I needed Phillip. I needed to be deeply inside him, bringing him to the edge of ecstasy as I unloaded time and time again into his receiving gut. And, I needed him to be in me, tickling my p-spot with his slim, talented phallus. Our dragons were unleashed and flying into battle every night.

As the physical side heated, our conversations became deeper. He was unhappy with the secret life he was leading. And terrified that any discovery would destroy his life. As the days went by, his words and expressions turned warm. What had begun as a prank or a self-aggrandizing bit of publicity—to fuck a giant-dicked American—changed. We were really into each other. Tenderness, sensuous caressing and massaging, kissing became an important part of our foreplay. Phillip began to adjust to my size. So our coupling was longer and more exciting. Dare I say it? Affection, maybe even more, was blooming between us.

This produced a melancholy attitude. As well as a frantic need to be together as often as possible. We knew that in less than three weeks or so, we would never meet again. And so our love-making (fucking had become love-making) took on both a frantic sense of taking everything now and a more serene desire to feel and remember every stroke, every kiss, every caress. In a few weeks, I had absorbed a lifetime to experience—and had fallen for the forbidden fruit.

*****

Compared to the student tour, the next and last cohort of tourists was easy. We knew the routine. The two of us worked like the proverbial well-oiled machine. We had lots of time together. The tourists were relatively docile. No one got out of line. And all of them wrote glowing reviews as they departed. And left me very generous tips.

Then the summer ended. I had two days to write up my experiences and summarize advice for the guy (or woman) who would take my place next summer.

But, I was alone. Since the guiding responsibilities were over, Phillip disappeared.

It seemed our time together was ending finally and completely. Our last night together was hot and furious. Neither of us slept at all. Then Phillip showered; we had breakfast together—in public; and, he left for home.

I don't think I had ever missed anything or anyone as much before in my life. He had changed me. Totally awakened my sexuality. Aged me by several years in a few short weeks. But left me incredibly sad. I had never before felt so alone or so lonely. It was like I had lost a part of me.

I finished most of the reports on the first day, and went out to celebrate with a local meal. I guess it was delicious, but without Phillip as a companion, I remembered it only as tasteless.

When I returned to the hostel, there was a letter. It looked very official, sealed with a ribbon and a wax impression. The hostel manager was really quite intrigued. But, I took it up to the room. I wanted to read this in private. It was from Phillip's father inviting me to join them at home for a discussion of the future and a farewell lunch the following day, my last day in China. I had had no contact with Phillip for two days, and my apprehension began to build.

What did he want? What could they do to me? Deport me? Declare me PNG? Destroy my future in the American nuclear industry? Yes to all. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much that night.

*****

The next day was to be my last in China. I spent the morning purchasing some souvenirs for family, and a few things that I wanted for myself. Then, I returned to the hotel, showered and changed into my best—including a navy blazer, a button-up shirt and a tie—one that Phillip had given me, vivid red with a small bit of embroidery near the bottom: a dragon head spouting flames. I knew the way to Phillip's house—now not in Old Shanghai, but the top floor (never referred to as a penthouse in Modern China) of one of the newer skyscrapers. (I was told that the notion that the top floor was most desirable was a new concept. Earthquakes and lack of reliable elevators had previously meant that lower floors were preferred for residences! Now with pollution the biggest problem, higher had become better.)

I presented to the guard (not a concierge, a "decadent Western idea") at the lobby. (Actually there were several guards, all in uniforms. This building was likely reserved for the elite with a high level of security.) He called up to announce me and escorted me to an elevator which he keyed-in to whisk me to the Fortieth floor. The Tang apartment occupied the entire floor, and the shiny chrome elevator opened directly into the apartment's reception room.

I was greeted by a uniformed man (military) who bowed in introduction and, in perfect English, invited me to the drawing room. The reception room had been devoid of furniture, save a beautiful white rug with a border depicting a writhing long red dragon and a rosewood altar topped by a blue and white porcelain pot holding sprays of white orchids. As we entered the living spaces, old Chinese pieces blended with modern—and unlike so many places I had seen in China—the color palette was muted and quiet.

Phillip and his father were seated on large side by side chairs, backed by a floor-to-ceiling window that seemed to capture all of Shanghai. The apartment itself was elegant, but probably in keeping with the austerity of a military man who had been engaged in the revolution, it was furnished conservatively.

Phillip was dressed like my twin. His father wore a military uniform with just a few colorful ribbons and the red star of a general. He was distinguished, in shape, perhaps in his seventies, with grey hair, cut short, a military posture and a smile! (Not the grimace which conservative Chinese men think is a smile when a Westerner is present.)

He disarmed me immediately. He rose to greet me and bowed ceremoniously. Which of course, I returned. Then he smiled and motioned me to a chair near his. This was not to be reprobation. I wasn't sure what yet, but I guessed that I wasn't going to be deported in disgrace. He was setting up a conversation.

We spent the next half hour talking—actually he was asking questions and I was responding—while we sipped at a non-alcoholic fruit drink. During that time, he inquired about my family, my home town, my education, my expectations, my plans and even my hobbies. I was pretty sure he already knew everything. I had been thoroughly vetted before I was offered the guide position. And no doubt he had been briefed—by Phillip if not his advisors. But, it is polite in China to inquire about family. Phillip said nothing. And his facial expressions didn't betray anything either. He actually might be enjoying my predicament, one that he had obviously encountered many times before. His father was a skilled interrogator.

We were called in to lunch. There would only be the three of us—no other family was in evidence, and in fact, the entire apartment seemed quiet and deserted throughout the entire time I was there. The food was set on the table; so no waiters were required. I was beginning to wonder whether the General had deliberately avoided witnesses.

Then, as we were finishing the wonderful meal, he dropped the bomb. "It seems that you and my son have become very good friends in the short weeks you have been together. Never before has he spoken so well of an acquaintance. One he has known for only a short time. But, I trust his instincts, although he is sometimes a bit impetuous and incautious. And so I too am impressed with you, David."

"I asked Phillip to invite you here today so that I could thank you for your service. The tours have been considered a success by the Government—and will be repeated and expanded in the future. China needs to show the world that it is not an archaic culture centuries old, but a great modern nation. And, of course, I wanted to meet the young man of whom Phillip has been speaking non-stop for two days."

He took a few small bites of the smoked tea-flavored ice cream dessert. Then replaced the porcelain spoon. And abruptly changed the subject.