Kennel Opening

I took his member into my mouth and pleasured him until I felt him raise me with hands on my waist and turn me. As always, I panted, my mouth gaping open and my body shuddering, as he pulled me down into his lap and on his shaft. When he was buried deep inside me, he embraced me closely with his arms, one of his hands encasing and slowly stroking me, and kissed all over my back as he rocked me back and forth. This had brought me great pain at first, but he had taken me this way so often now that my passageway had stretched to fit him. He was big and I was small, but now we were a good fit.

In time, he began to raise and lower me on the shaft with his strong, calloused hand. Faster and faster, pulling me onto him hard, and deeper. He was panting hard and mumbling words I hardly was able to hear through my grunts and groans as he stretched and chafed the shimmering walls of my passageway with his hard, throbbing staff.

I gave him my seed before he released his. And then he continued holding me there as both of us went soft. I knew this was not the last of what he would want from me.

It was during this interlude in which he always told me how much he liked little brown bodies—mine especially. And this time was no exception. But this time he said more and what he said brought me to tears.

". . . and so you must leave the plantation, Chumphon."

"I don't understand, Mr. Crozier. I don't understand why."

"My wife is coming out to join me. I've told you this—that there must be changes."

"But only in where we meet, surely," I answered, trying to keep the sob out of my voice. "I am sorry if I have displeased you. I will—"

"You haven't displeased me, Chumphon. But you cannot be here when my wife arrives. The others will talk. Surely she will learn of you. You understand that, don't you?"

"If you say I must go, then I must go," I answered. But it was with great sadness. I had no idea how I would find a job as good as this one. I already was missing the dogs. And my mother's kitchen had burned down. She expected me to pay for a new one to be built.

"You needn't worry, though, Chumphon. I have arranged a new job for you. In New Zealand. You know where that is, don't you? I'm sure you've always wanted to travel abroad."

I didn't know where it was. It didn't sound like it was any of the nearby villages. Perhaps somewhere nearer to Bangkok, I thought. But I didn't tell Mr. Crozier I had never dreamed of going anywhere but Khon Kaen, and I dared not show any disappointment. It was more than I had a right to expect that he had arranged another job for me. But what kind of job? All I knew of was taking care of dogs.

And, as if he had read my mind, he answered that. "You will still be working with dogs. You will be helping to run a kennel of dogs. You will just be doing it in a whole new world."

I couldn't even fathom at the time what he meant about a whole new world. But he certainly was right about that.

And I no longer was giving this much thought. I felt him coming alive inside me again, and he turned me and pushed me up onto his bed on my back and was kneeling between my thighs. I arched my back and reached my arms out to grab fistfuls of his rough-texture bedspread and to sigh and moan as he began to rhythmically thrust himself inside me once more. One of my hands went to his chest and traced the dragon's tail down his arm—for the last time.

One last time, as he already had a plane ticket for me to leave the next day.

* * * *

Chumphon had been at the Kauea Kennels for nearly three weeks before he observed something that made his heart race. His new job was great even though this island wasn't anything like the Thailand upcountry he came from. He had little trouble with the language, as Mr. Crozier had made him improve the English he'd taken in school. Mr. Crozier certainly wasn't going to bother to learn Thai. But otherwise Chumphon felt completely out of place. The terrain was so different—not that he'd traveled enough to feel this was an island. He'd been to the beaches of Phataya, and the beach at Tauranga was much the same even if the buildings and foliage were different.

But the people were very much different. All of them Farangs, like Mr. Crozier, if friendlier and less demanding than Mr. Crozier. But Chumphon guessed he was the Farang here, not them.

Mr. Kauea was overwhelming, although he certainly was friendly. He was even bigger than Mr. Crozier was and not quite the Farang that Mr. Crozier was—or that his older friend, Mr. Morris was. But he was different in a disturbing way. Not exactly disturbing. More the same feelings that came over Chumphon when Mr. Crozier called Chumphon to his house. Mr. Kauea didn't talk to Chumphon the same way he talked to other people when they were around. And there was something in that like how Mr. Crozier had talked differently to Chumphon than he did to other workers on the tapioca plantation. And Mr. Kauea touched Chumphon when he was talking to him—just like Mr. Crozier had.

Mr. Kauea was a little darker than the other Farangs here. And of larger stature. Something that seemed closer to New Zealand's own sense of wildness and primitive instincts. Something more of the island's history than people like Mr. Morris was, who spoke almost an entirely different language than Mr. Kauea did, even though they were both speaking a form of English and seemed readily able to understand each other—well, most of the time, and certainly better than Chumphon, with his rudimentary English, could understand either one of them.

When Chumphon could take his mind—and, often, his fantasies—away from Mr. Kauea, they turned to what occupied most of his days and evenings—the dogs. In these terms, Chumphon could only say he was delighted in the change in his life. He had loved his German Shepherds, but they had been trained to be guard dogs and thus were something to carefully fear and respect as well as to love. The spaniels Mr. Kauea owned, on the other hand, were bundles of happiness and slobbering love. There were other dogs at the kennel from time to time, owned by other people in the region who were leaving them while they traveled, but it was Mr. Kauea's spaniels alone that made Chumphon's new life a delight.

The only downside to this life was that Chumphon missed the attention that Mr. Crozier had given him—more than he ever imagined he would. Mr. Crozier hadn't courted him in any way. He had just told Chumphon what he wanted when Chumphon came to work on the tapioca plantation. Few Thai living upcountry had a choice in where or whether they would work. It was a privilege just to have work. Mr. Crozier had just taken from Chumphon what he wanted. Chumphon had wondered about this, but Lek had told him that Mr. Crozier had done the same with her—that all Farangs in the upcountry just took what they wanted from Thai people, and that this was the way of the upcountry. Chumphon had not even thought of objecting or resisting. And now Chumphon was surprised at how much he'd come to want it.

Which brought his mind back to the hulking Mr. Kauea he now worked for.

Chumphon had little expectation that he could receive the same attention from Mr. Kauea that he had from Mr. Crozier until that day he went to the house at the kennel to report that one of the spaniels seemed to be limping. As he passed the side of the house, he heard noises from inside and spied them through the open window. The older man, Mr. Morris, was leaning over a bed on his elbows and Mr. Kauea was fucking Mr. Morris from behind—like a dog, like the muscular, overpowering German Shepherds Chumphon had seen breeding at the kennel in Thailand. Both men were naked.

Both were large-boned as Mr. Crozier had been and were not as sun-kissed dark skinned on their upper thighs and groins as they were elsewhere. Chumphon had found this strange and intriguing—and, yes, a bit arousing. Thai people were dark all over. They didn't have their manhood and their buttocks emphasized by whiter skin around it.

The young Thai stood, mesmerized, by the size and power of the New Zealander and by the sounds of pained passion coming from the older man, as he bent over the bed, legs spread, fists digging into the bedding, and tongue hanging out on a face with eyes glazed over in ecstasy.

Mr. Kauea was the largest-built man down there Chumphon had ever seen, and it seemed impossible that Mr. Morris could take it all as it repeatedly withdrew and then thrust back inside, sending Mr. Morris' body to shuddering and jerking. But take it Mr. Morris did. And from the older man's reactions while he was taking it, Chumphon decided that he wanted it too. The thought of his own slight body taking it frightened Chumphon. He remembered how long it had taken him to sheath Mr. Crozier's staff without constant pain fighting with the pleasure, and Mr. Kauea was much larger than Mr. Crozier. But still Chumphon wanted it. And he had adjusted to the size of Mr. Crozier. In time he could adjust to the size of Mr. Kauea too, he was confident.

That evening, he came to Mr. Kauea as he had come to Mr. Crozier, silently, on bare feet, and only with a cotton sarong wrapped around his waist.

Mr. Kauea was sitting on the side of his bed, dressed only in sleeping shorts. His body was magnificent, muscular, bronze-skinned, and with primitive native tattooing that made Chumphon's heart race with the image of coming to him to perform some primordial rite.

The massive New Zealander looked up to see Chumphon standing in the doorway in the dim light. If he was surprised, he showed no evidence of it. Indeed, he reacted as if their coupling was inevitable. Later, when they spoke of what they had done, how Mr. Kauea had used Chumphon's body repeatedly, Mr. Kauea had said that if Chumphon had not come to him, he would have come for Chumphon. He had asked Chumphon if that would have made the young Thai angry or unwilling, Chumphon had not been able to understand what he was asking. Mr. Kauea was his employer; Chumphon would give him anything he wanted.

As he had stood in the door, neither man spoke, but heavy breathing could be heard from both sides of the room. Chumphon worried the knot of the sarong at his waist and it fell to the floor in folds. His erection told David all he would need to know of Chumphon's want and intention. His berry-brown body was perfectly formed, paling in size, though, to that of the New Zealander. David's breath came even heavier as he thought of the massiveness of his cock working the passageway of such a small, perfectly formed man. It was his fetish. A man couldn't do anything about the fetishes he had.

The New Zealander lifted his hips off the surface of the bed enough to slide his sleeping shorts off.

It was Chumphon's turn to gasp and take great gulps of air—Chumphon's turn for his channel to twitch at the expectation of that big, erect club possessing him fully. If anything, it was more massive than Chumphon had believed it to be when it was poking Mr. Morris' hole. He began to tremble and to moan softly.

David extended a hand and said the only words expressed in the room for the next hour. "Come to me, if you will. Don't, if you are afraid. It is your choice. It may not be possible, but I want to try. If it's not possible, though, I'm not sure you can remain here. The temptation is too much."

Chumphon was very much afraid. Mr. Crozier would not have given him a choice; he would have just made Chumphon take it. And from what Mr. Kauea was saying, it wasn't really a choice here either. He would lose his job. But in this case, Chumphon himself wanted it too much for there to be but one choice. This new world Chumphon had moved into was so much more arousing than Thailand and the tapioca plantation had been.

The young Thai cried out in pain and ecstasy as he bent over the bed and Mr. Kauea covered him from behind and slowly worked his thick, long cock inside Chumphon's slowly yielding channel. Mr. Crozier had opened him up, but there was so much more work to be done to accommodate Mr. Kauea.

There was a time when each believed Chumphon's passage just could not accommodate the size of the cock, but both worked hard at it with grunts and groans, both wanting it. And then, miracle of miracles, Chumphon felt his passage relaxing and stretching, and the shaft was sliding up inside him. He cried out so loudly in the effort that howls went up from the kennels behind the house. Neither of the men cared. The music of the dogs lent atmosphere to the primordial rite of taking and receiving. Being primitively fucked like a dog, as, fully saddled, David started his plowing in earnest.

The fuck became wild, David thrusting hard, deep, rapidly, but daring not to pull more than half way out of the channel for fear it would close again. But the young Thai wanted the deep possession, a connection he had never experienced with Mr. Crozier. At the height of passion, Davie buried a fist in Chumphon's thick, black hair and arched the young man's back, pulling his head up to David's bulging pecs, as he thrust, thrust, thrust.

Chumphon came with a great cry, and the rhythm of the fuck changed, became slower, slid deeper, withdrew further before gliding back in. Chumphon's passage had been reamed to David's specifications and he would never have the trouble saddling the young Thai again that he had initially. Three further takings that night would establish the fit forever.

David wrapped an arm around Chumphon's waist and rose up, away from the bed. The exhausted, but moaning and sighing body of Chumphon hung limply, bent over, buttocks nestled into David's groin, feet off the floor and arms and legs dangling in front of him, as the strong, virile New Zealander continued to fuck him in long slides until, with a weak yip sound Chumphon came again, his cum dribbling down his thighs.

Only then, with a great Maori warrior cry, did Kauea release his seed in three prodigious bursts, the cry setting the dogs in the kennel to howling once more.

Chumphon slept in David's bed that night and every night afterward, fully content in this new life of his, growing accustomed to the gentle touch of the young Maori's fingers in the night that coaxed Chumphon to rise on all fours to be fucked again like a dog. Chumphon never once thought of denying the other man's pleasure—his pleasure as well.

* * * *

"Well, hello, who is that?" Graham asked as he unfolded himself from his special production Zetini Haast Barchetta sports car as David stepped down from the front porch of his house. Down the hill, by the corner of the kennels, a young man was loading two sleek Airedales into a Land Rover.

"I wondered when you'd discover Clark," David said, as he walked over to the red sports car. "I'm surprised you haven't run across him at Pauli's. I think you'd find him . . . invigorating. He's every bit as good as George is."

Graham turned and gave David a sharp look. "That's what I find so unique about you," he said. "There isn't a jealous bone in your body." It also, he didn't want to reveal, was one of the aspects to David Kauea he found to be maddening. He wanted a man to care enough for him to be jealous. "You wouldn't care if I walked down there and he fucked me on the hood of his Land Rover, would you?"

"Not if it was what the two of you wanted to do. I don't waste time on sexual games and petty jealousies," David said. "I take the gifts that life brings me gladly and don't resent others doing likewise. You don't think you are the only man I'm fucking, do you?"

He was looking downhill and Graham followed his line of sight. The young Thai kennel helper Graham had tracked down for David had four of the short-term dogs on leashes and was taking them for a walk. The older American felt a surge of jealously. But he was careful not to say the first response that came to his mind—or any response, for that matter. He didn't want what he was getting from David to stop. But he did let the matter seethe in his mind.

So that's how it is, he thought. I was afraid of that. David is fucking the cute little Thai piece I bought for him. I should have known better. I don't remember there being any female kennel workers available, though.

"Would you like me to arrange a hook-up with Clark?" David continued in a calm voice as if he had no idea what Graham was thinking—or that he didn't care. "I think he would enjoy you as much as you would enjoy him. In fact, I can hardly wait to enjoy you again myself."

"No thank you. I'm a one man at a time type man," Graham answered, not being able to resist any longer. He had answered this way on purpose—as both a challenge and an admonition, but if David caught the challenge, he didn't reveal it, or rise to it. David was such a simple, open sort of guy. He made Graham feel like a schemer and just a bit dirty, which is not a feeling Graham wanted to indulge in. If the young man wasn't such a sexy lug and didn't have such a big cock and know exactly what to do with it, Graham would be off and running in finding someone else. He seriously thought he was getting too old to be competing with the likes of the little Thai trick being pulled along by those dogs down in the meadow.

He did, though, like the sound of David saying he couldn't wait to enjoy him again—and that was another thing Graham observed about David: that it appeared that he wouldn't hold back with Graham in sex just because he was spiking someone else too. From that perspective, Graham was forced to accept that David's willingness for him to pursue the Clark man with the Airedales was an open, honest response.

It proved true that David both didn't want to wait for what Graham had driven into Tauranga in his fancy locally produced sports car to get and that he wouldn't stint in fucking Graham even if he also was doing the kennel helper. They only made it as far as the dining room, before David had Graham bent over the table and was fucking him in the doggy style that they both enjoyed so much.

Afterward, while they were sitting on the porch, drinking beer; discussing a bit of business, since they were co-owners of the kennel; and watching Chumphon pad around the kennel down the hill, Graham broached the subject he'd been building up to for weeks now.

"How is the Thai helper, Chumphon, working out?"

"He's doing well in the kennel."

And even better in the house lying under you, Graham thought. But he didn't go there even if he couldn't get it out of his mind. "Well enough to be left with the kennel for a couple of weeks?"

"Well, I don't know . . ."

"You know I tracked him down and arranged to bring him over so that you'd be free to travel. I have brochures on Paris and London in the car. I'm getting antsy on this small island. And I don't want to travel or to sleep alone."

"The island's not that small," David answered. "And I don't really think I can get away now—not for some time."

I understand perfectly, Graham thought, slightly bitterly, since this was his doing—not that he had meant it to turn out this way. David didn't want to leave because he didn't want to be away from Chumphon for any length of time. Chumphon had just proved to be too tasty a morsel for David to resist. At some point in their relationship, David had revealed to Graham his weakness for small Southeast Asian men. The revelation had come too late to prevent Chumphon's arrival, unfortunately. And then, of course, he had to be such a beautifully formed little man.

What was it David had said? That he just went with the flow of life and took what came his way as a gift? Graham was getting old. Maybe he was manipulating life too much. But then, maybe not.

"Where did you say that Clark guy exercised his Airedales? They look too athletic to be house or lap dogs."