Six Hours in Singapore

I think I fall in love a little.

"Okay, a fine plan."

We talk, eat the meal they provide, have a couple of drinks each. He talks of a girlfriend, still in Australia, he has to return to London for work, she is staying for another week or two. I tell him of Ilsa, I reassure, without completely avoiding the suggestion I might be into men too.

"You have a couple of weeks in London on your own then?"

"Hmm, yeah, terrible really but I am sort of looking forward to it, having the flat to myself."

"Sure, what do you say? 'When the cat's away'?"

"Indeed, and you? Were you, I mean, did you behave yourself in Melbourne?"

My stomach takes a small tumble. Did I? It would be hard to say I did, and I'd love to tell him, can I? Why would he care?

"You are hesitating? Did you misbehave?"

"Well, the friends I stayed with in Melbourne are, well, they are nudists I guess."

"Shit, really? At home, obviously?"

"Of course yeah, whenever they can, but always at home, and I joined them. So, we were all nude, the time I was there."

"Wow, sounds good, I mean it, sounds nice."

"Hmm, and..."

"Yeeaaahhhs?"

"The last night but one, we got a little silly, the three of us."

"Silly?"

"Yeah, we had a big night out, and got back, and stripped off, and, well, you know?"

"A threesome. Well, you hear about these things, and, I mean, I'm curious, he didn't mind, whoever he was, didn't mind you with his girlfriend? Or her, doing, with you?"

"Uh, well, uh, there was no her."

"No her? So... oh, ah, right."

"Yeah, just, me and my best friend, my oldest friend, and his boyfriend, three of us, all guys, together."

"Okay I get it, so, and Ilsa?"

"Yeah, she knows I have a past, and kind of likes it in fact, she would not be so pleased it is in the present now."

"No, well, no, not really."

"And what happened?"

"You are interested? Most straight guys are turned off by this."

"Hmm, maybe, or they pretend to be."

"Not you?"

"Not... completely. So?"

"Well, okay, we were all naked, together, and, started touching ourselves, our cocks I mean, then we touched each other, I had my hands on my friend's dick, and his boyfriend's, they were both touching me, my dick I mean, and we all started to get hard, then, well, we were, god, who is listening to this? Suddenly all three of us were so fucking hard. So, okay, the boyfriend sucked my cock, and masturbated, my friend stood up, in front of me, and I took his cock in my mouth."

"Shit, was it good?"

"Amazing, I didn't come though, we'd all taken some E, and, I don't know, it stops me coming sometimes, I haven't taken it for years though, but, they both came, god, sorry, I had Martin in my mouth, so I felt him come, tasted him, and then I took his boyfriend in my mouth as well, his hard dick, as he was about to come, so both of them, I loved it, I sucked both of them, both of them filled my mouth with their spunk."

"Fuck, fuck, good night then."

"Yeah, one to remember."

We sat in silence for a moment, and I couldn't stop myself from looking. Was he aroused? Could I see if his cock had stiffened? As I spoke, at the thought of me fucking two other men? I was sure the shape of his cock was more visible, sure, fuck, I was sure he had become slightly hard thinking of me, three men, naked, erect, their stiff penises in my mouth.

I let him visualise, and process, and linger over the thoughts I know he is having. So, now, he has agreed to share a room with a guy he has just met, in a strange airport, who he knows likes men as much as women. Is he okay with this? More than okay?

The hours pass, we talk more, glance, I am sure he does, I do, at his face, his body, his crotch. When it seems we never will we land, and disembark. He does let me get off first. I wait for him.

He grins again when he sees me. I smile back. And feel competing pulses within my body.

Singapore airport is large and pleasant enough, lots of green spaces, comfortable chairs, eating and drinking opportunities. I am glad of the room though, it's not the seven hour flight behind me, more the twelve hour one ahead that I need to prepare for, and the eight hours in between.

We walk with our carry-on luggage, his a brown leather satchel, mine a less impressive black record bag. I am unsure how this will go, how relaxed either of us will be, what impulses might drive us. I check in, Trent hangs back a little, I'm not sure why. We ride the elevator in sudden and strange silence. Both of us facing out. I think to press the brake, to stop us rising, to turn and tear open his clothes, to reach into his trousers for his thickening cock.

I open the door and we both step inside. It's quite spacious, a bed, a sofa, desk and chair, TV, bathroom. I toss my bag on the floor and sprawl over the easy seat. Looking back at Trent. Still standing.

"Please, think of it as our room, not mine, treat it as you would your own."

"Thanks Willem, this is really kind of you. Fuck, I do need to stretch out, relax."

"I know, do you want a drink? Mini bar I know, but...?"

"Oh, yes, be nice, anything really, some whisky, if they have any."

I set up two large whiskies for us. And sat. And drank. Trent relaxed, it seemed, we looked at each other. Would he? Could he? He was straight, attached, completely so? Curious at all? Curiosity would only get either of us so far, arousal was the thing. Was he? At all? Had he felt something unfamiliar on the plane? Had he had thoughts he had always previously sent away?

"Oh fuck I need a shower, do you mind if I go first? I need to be out of these clothes, and clean, and fresh. Okay?"

"Sure, I mean, of course, it's your room, whatever you want."

"Great, thanks."

I undo my shoes, pull them off, socks as well, as I look at Trent kicking his sandals off, stretching his toes, rubbing his feet. I want to undress right here, in front of him, I want to be naked in front of him. No. I can't. Too much too soon.

I do strip in the bathroom, looking at my naked body in the large mirror, looking at my soft cock, cooled again by the air conditioning, my scrotum small and tight, my penis shrunk to a tiny point of pale skin, a small round-ish protrusion covered by the tapering crinkle of my foreskin. I empty bladder and bowels and step under the shower, turning the dial first as hot as I can stand, then as cold.

It's about as good a shower as I can remember having. Strong, thick, numerous jets of water crashing over my scalp, my face, my chest. I turn into it and feel my skin tightening up, my cock reacting to the cold, my testicles being drawn further up. I muster up the energy to find shampoo, soap, and clean myself all over, under my arms, over my belly, slathering my pubic hair, my balls, exposing my tiny pink cock head and washing myself there, between my legs, over my smooth wet ass, and lower, between my thighs, I run soapy fingers over the root of my cock, over my perineum, softly rubbing my smooth tight anus, soaping, cleaning, just, barely, pushing the very tip of my finger inside, fuck, I feel the clenching tube of my tight asshole, feel a reactive jolt of sensation in my penis. Okay, I'm clean.

I take some more time to clean my teeth, remaining nude, letting the circulating air dry me off as much as possible. I reach for a large white towel, the ones I only ever use in hotel rooms. In a minute or so I have dried off. And face the mirror again. My clothes are still on the floor behind me, I think to put them on, instead fold them up onto the towel rail. Fair enough. I wrap the towel around my waist and join Trent again.

He is sitting on the end part of the sofa, his glass in his hand on his lap, his eyes shut. He opens them as I open the bathroom door. I see him notice I am only dressed in a towel, my legs, my feet are bare, my belly, my now exposed chest. I know he can see the soft small shape of my dick underneath the towel. The idea of immediately discarding this too causes thrilling eddies of pleasure to circle within me. I wait, I force myself, if nothing happens then nothing happens, I don't want to spoil the next few hours for either of us, and I don't want to know now, this early, that he hasn't been turned on by the idea, the fantasy, the possibility of this. Of me. Fuck.

He stands. Finishes his drink.

"Are you okay if I take a shower as well?"

"Of course, please, help yourself."

"Thanks Will."

His use of the diminutive pleases me, more than it should. I watch him walk the few steps to the bathroom, only his feet bare, closing the door behind him. I feel almost palpable disappointment. Did I think he would strip in front of me? In a few minutes I hear the shower, and am able to think of him naked, standing where I just had, water cascading over him, cold, hot, soaking him, flattening his hair, flowing over his bare body, through his pubic hair, along the length of his cock, washing himself as I had, exposing his soft tip, running his fingers over it, over his tight balls, between his legs. Would he? Does he? I think of him touching his bare asshole, stroking himself there.

I pour another drink for both of us, still not dressing, hoping to lounge, that this is okay, for us both to sit and drink wrapped in matching white towels. I hear the bathroom door open. Trent steps back in. In nothing but a towel. I stare, trying not to, I look at his bare chest, broader than my own, but smoother, paler I guess, despite his holiday, hairless, his belly is not merely flat, but toned, worked, not to the point I would think obsession, but he carries the ripped look of some regular working out, combining with his natural, youthful tightness, his slim waist drawing in to his hips. I can see the thin trail of dark pubic hair snaking up to his large deep navel, and the shape of his cock, just, a slight bulge underneath the towel, shifting as he walks. He stands and stretches out cramped muscles, facing away, I gaze at his back, his strong looking shoulders, the full curve of his ass. I tease myself with the idea there is just one layer of material shielding him, covering him, separating us.

"Listen, uh, I don't know whether you were going to have a sleep or something, but, uh, feel free, if you want to, you know, get in bed, turn the lights out, I am sure I can have a sleep on this thing."

He indicates the sofa, which would be slightly small, slightly uncomfortable.

"No, you can't lay out properly there, really, it's a huge bed, we can both use it to have a doze, if you're okay with that?"

"Uh, of course, if you're sure."

We're both being so polite, so coy, it is driving me wild.

"Of course. You want another drink first?"

"Mmm, yeah I do."

I pour and hand it to him. Our fingers touch, quickly, currents pass into me.

"I should, I should dress I suppose." I am sure he is inviting me to tell him not to. I try this out.

"No, no need for that, let your body relax, both of us, certainly to sleep, I hate sleeping in clothes."

And I take the step, I dare myself. "I don't know why we're bothering with towels really. I mean..."

I let the thought form itself, leave the sentence hanging. I look. I look directly at him. I can't, I can't stop myself. And I unwrap my towel from around my waist, and drop it behind me, and stand in front of him, completely and suddenly naked. I register his shock, his eyes, dropping over my bare body, looking, the knowledge of his gaze slowly taking in my nudity sends fresh prickles of electric sensation inside me, he looks, fuck, down, to my slim waist, my own tight abdomen, the thick tufts of my vivid pubic hair, to my dick, god, I can see this is where his eyes are lingering, trying not to, not to look, but looking, at the soft frond of my cock, soft, small, perched on top of the tight round pouch of my balls, I don't move, I let him look, wanting him to, wanting him to stand and stare and not stop, I let him register the size of my soft dick, the tiny looking protrusion of my exposed male sex, I want him to feel the strangeness of this, my sudden nudity, but not to be repelled. Will he be? Is he?

"Sure, why not..."

His voice has dropped, is low, hoarse sounding. My stomach churns and falls. I watch. Trent pulls clumsily at his towel, at the wedge he has made to secure it around himself, he pulls, and loosens, and lets it fall away from him. And in this movement becomes as naked as I already am. And it's my turn to stare at his nude body. His nude body. Fuck. We have stripped in front of each other, this strange beautiful handsome straight man has just stripped naked in front of me.

And I look. At his thick, dense patch of pubic hair, his long toned naked thighs, up again, to his now exposed penis. Oh my god. I gaze at Trent's smooth soft dick. Small as well, smaller than average perhaps, smaller than me even, god, uncircumcised, his soft foreskin forming a crinkled hood over the tiny point of his glans, his stem slim, short, I realise his ball are large, larger than mine, drawn in super tight by his surely cold shower, the reactive skin of his dark hairy scrotum is pulling his full oval testicles close to him, and is pushing the soft small length of his dick outwards, just slightly, so it hangs over his fat balls, but points just slightly out, as if sprouting from the dark curly nest of his thick bush. I can see, as he turns, to tidy up his towel, I stare at the firm looking silhouette of Trent's bare sex.

We face each other again, having said nothing for far too long now.

I drink, to do something, Trent does the same, standing, I take a turn around the room, as if checking things out, pulling drawers open, wardrobe doors. I turn, Trent is at the window, I look at him from behind, his long strong looking back, his broad muscular shoulders, and his ass, oh fuck, his ass. Smooth, hairless, but so full, so round and strong and firm.

I stare at his perfect male body, the shadows and cuts of his musculature, the curve and concave indent of his naked ass, the dark line of his cleft. He turns. Sees me looking. I forget to pretend I wasn't. And don't stop. I look now at his front, the tight saucers of his pectoral muscles, his dark small nipples, the lines across his abdomen, my eyes are drawn lower, lower, to the inviting source of his pubic hair, following this lower, as it widens, thickens, spreads into the delta of his pubic thatch, fuck, and his cock, that fucking cock, so soft, so slim and small, his small stem and tiny tip shielded by a covering of smooth pale soft skin, the smallest creased folds of foreskin extending out beyond his short length. So achingly beautiful, pushed up, fuck, up by the clenched folds of his fat scrotum, his sweet male sex perched and protruding at the centre of his utterly, ravishingly nude body.

"Do you know I might have a lie down. Please, Trent, if you like to, relax properly, on the bed."

My voice is getting as ragged as his.

"Yeah, I might, thanks."

And we step naked to the bed, closer again to each other's bare bodies, close enough to breathe in his odour, the smell of water, soap, the hint of something deeper, of hidden exchanges of thought and function. We both walk to the same side of the bed, stand less than a foot apart, I can hear his breath, and feel it on my neck. I sense his body heat, emanating from him, our soft naked dicks almost touch. I smile and pull the cover back, inviting him in. He smiles back, and sits, more or less upright, against a fat pair of pillows. I don't pull the quilt back, I leave his body exposed.

His legs crossed, his thighs together, his delicately beautiful soft cock pushed upwards, vertical, too soft, too small and tight to flop back against his belly, held in place by the soft seam running along the underside of his prick and onto the bulging stretched sac of his balls. It occurs to me to remain where I am, to carry on looking, with provocative intent, to sit next to him, to reach and touch him, the delay of this however, the denial, it's too delicious to end it.

I walk around the other side, pull the cover back, and get in next to him. We sit, side by side, naked, taking sips of whisky, and I stare, with less furtiveness than before, I let my gaze wander up and over Trent's smooth slim naked young body.

"So, you've never... " Can I bring this up? Would this be too direct? "...you've never had any sort of gay experiences?"

"Uh, no, none at all, no."

"Wow, not even when you were young, younger? With friends? Experimenting?"

"No. No."

His voice is still low, ragged, nervous, or thick with desire? Barely hidden arousal?

I am still looking with blatant interest at his chest, his stomach, his soft little dick. I am staring at his exposed cock as I speak. "And have you ever wanted to?"

"Wanted to?"

"Sure. I mean, haven't you ever... wanted another guy? Or wondered, or fantasised?"

"Um, well, a little, occasionally. Yeah."

"Uh-huh, what sort of thing?"

"Oh, you know, the usual I guess."

"Tell me."

"Oh, I suppose, seeing another guy getting aroused, watching him get hard, feeling him, feeling his cock getting harder, I suppose I do..."

"Uh-huh?"

"I do... I do fantasise about..."

"Trent, it's okay, tell me."

"... about, I mean I have thought about it, once in a while, the moment I might suck another guy, I mean, the moment I, I suppose me, or he pulls off his underwear, and his cock is already hard, getting harder, and I hold it, and, well, I think of having another man's hard cock in my mouth, sucking his cock, tasting him, feeling the hardness, the thickness, the taste of a man's naked glans, this part of him. His cum. God. I do. I suppose, I do fantasise about sucking a man's penis and feeling him fill my mouth with hot cum."

"Mmm, it is nice, fuck, I mean it, both ways, seeing a guy with your hard cock sliding into his mouth, and sucking a guy's cock, god, this is just so good, feeling his dick getting hard as you kiss him, as you slide your lips over his tip, tasting him, feeling him getting so aroused, feeling him come, god yes."

There is silence. I look. Trent is still completely perfectly soft. I check myself. I see the first signs of arousal, just, my cock has thickened, just slightly, is laying heavier against my bare thigh. We can hear the hum of the air conditioning, the chatter of TV noise coming from other rooms. Our silence builds to an unbearable pitch.

"Do you think of anything else?"

"Oh, I suppose..."

"Uh-huh?"

"Just, I mean... being naked with another guy, looking, looking at his body."

"Why don't you look at me, now."

He turns and faces me, our eyes meet. Fuck, those eyes. I look at him, slowly, up and down, lingering over his chest, his contorted stomach, his thick bush, his soft little dick, and I stare, finally, I stare at his small bulging sex, the tight crinkled skin of his scrotal sac, the slim digit of his cock. I stare. And hear him breathe. He is fighting this, fighting his own arousal. I look up, sit back slightly.

"Do you want to look at me, properly? Another man? Naked?"

"Yes. Can I?"

I don't answer, I let him get there himself. Finally his eyes drift away from my face, over my own chest, my slim belly, my dense roof of pubic hair, my own exposed penis.

"What are you looking at?"

"Your cock."

"What are you thinking?"

"That it's... that it's..."

"Uh-huh?"

"That's it's lovely, soft, small, so smooth looking, just, I... god, I've never been this close to a guy, naked I mean, both of us. Fuck."

"Hmm, it's quite nice isn't it. Do you like looking at me?"

"Yes. Yes. Do you like looking at me?"

"Fuck yes, I do, god, you have a beautiful strong body, so lean and toned, your chest, your stomach, and I love your soft little dick, it looks so good, so small and precise."