Extreme Gay Thailand 1978 Ch. 01

"Your fist?" I asked in a tremulous voice.

"Yes, I am going to use your body fully. Your actor friend is no doubt having great pleasure at the Jade Phallus Palace. We will have pleasure with the Yù Fǎ Lè Sī here, just the two of us."

I was panting hard and groaning deep when the oiled, oversized bulb of the dildo breached my sphincter.

"Wonderful. It opens right up," he said in an approving tone. "A seasoned but still wonderfully accessible whore."

I am sure I was doing a little screaming when the jade phallus was all inside me and moving in circular motions, twisting slowly and moving in and out. Could I feel the raised veins on the jade surface? Yes, indeed, I could.

"My fist is not much larger than this," he murmured, having worked me for several minutes, humming to himself as I panted and arched my back, pushing up a bit with my feet into the dildo as it slowly swirled and moved inside me. All of my sensations centered on the jade rod so fully possessing me.

"Not much larger" wasn't all that reassuring. But he could have whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted.

He loosened his grip on my cock, making a sheath of his fingers for me to fuck up into as my pelvis rocked with the movement of the jade phallus inside me.

"Now the fist," he murmured. "No, do not tighten up. You want to remain relaxed."

I whimpered but fought to relax.

The dildo was replaced with his hand, but he didn't go in up to his wrist, just to the knuckles. He stroked my prostate with the tip of a finger until, crying out to the stars and stroking his other hand with my oiled cock, I came a gusher--and again and again.

When his knuckles were pressing against the rim of my hole, I thought he was going to push the hand inside, up to the wrist, and I, of course, had no idea how I was going to take him. I just knew I wasn't going to stop him if that's what he wanted to do. I couldn't have physically stopped him--he was too strong and too much in control of me. But I also knew that if that's what he wanted from me, I would let him take it without a struggle.

But he hadn't pushed in. I heard him murmur, "Not yet; perhaps later," in a voice laced with regret, and regardless of the fear I had had that he would invade with his hand, I had a twinge of regret too. I wanted it all from this man.

This phase of his taking didn't last for long. It was just to put me totally under his control. The fingers were exchanged with the jade phallus again. When he pulled that out this time, he placed it to the side, gently took my leg off his shoulder, and deliberately and slowly kissed down the leg toward my groin. I thought he would take my cock in his mouth when he was kissing high up my inner thigh, but he didn't. I was panting and moaning low and whispering, "Yes, yes, yes." He bent that leg and placed the foot on the surface of the mat as my other leg was positioned. He leaned over and nuzzled the inner thigh of that leg briefly with his cheek. Then his hands went under my buttocks and squeezed and separated and lifted my butt cheeks. I moaned more deeply and more loudly voiced, "Yes, yes, eat me out," as he proceeded to bury his face between my cheeks and do just that.

Coming out of that, he moved his body over mine, hovering over me. He positioned my legs, one after the other, hooked on his hips, and I left them in place, while, stiff-arming his arms on either side of my chest.

"I can resist no longer," he said. "I must have you."

He slid deep inside me and fucked me in long, deep, slow strokes, in which his extraordinarily long cock reached into the soft, spongy core of me. I moved with him, putting the muscles of my channel walls and my pelvis in motion in the deep missionary fuck, focusing my eyes on the undulating muscles of his chest, watching the dragon come to life and lope across the landscape of his bulging pectoral to the rhythm of the fuck. When I could tear my eyes away from the dragon, I looked up into his slanted, Asian eyes. He was smiling slightly, enjoying the fuck. So was I. One of his hands went down to encase my cock, and he slow-stroked that to the same cadence as he was gliding inside me.

I arched my back, and murmured, "Yes, yes. Fuck me. Just like that. Make me come... and come inside me."

He did all of that. He brought a flowing orgasm out of me and then gave me his. Then he held, inside me, both of us focused on him losing his erection. He was a vigorous, virile man. I knew he wouldn't be flaccid long. And he wasn't. He did pull out of me and sit over on his haunches beside me. He moved fluidly, like a dancer. He laid his left hand on my brow and ran his fingers in my hair. He was stroking his cock hard again with the other hand.

"You are a beautiful young man," he whispered, as he stroked and captured my eyes with his. "I will enjoy putting you through your paces. I am sure you will enjoy it too. You take the cock like a champion. You open well. You know how to use the muscles of your passage walls. You come well. You will take the fist well when you trust me more too. We will do it all, you and I." I was still moaning and panting when he was erect again and reached down and lifted and repositioned my body. We were going to go again.

He proceeded to fuck me in several different exotic positions, running his long, long cock deep up inside me to my soft core, where the bulb of the cock, like the head of a snake kissed and bit me everywhere, making the muscles of my passage undulate over the shaft and causing me to gasp and cry out as the bulb touched, kissed, and nipped at me here, there, everywhere in my spongy core. I came again and again, until my balls ached and I was having dry ejaculations. Each time, though, I was taken to the summit and plunged over the edge in an orgasmic explosion.

He fucked me for hours, managing an erection and an orgasm again and again--pulling the same out of me again and again.

Most of the positions were with him in a kneeling position. He had me sit on his thighs, facing him, his ankles crossed at the small of my back, and my legs wrapped around his waist. His shaft was maybe four inches inside me. He was palming my buttocks, squeezing and separating the mounds. My arms were bound behind my back by the silk scarf. He took my lips with his and kissed me deeply. His tongue invaded my mouth and just when we were fully engaged in the kiss, he clutched my buttocks tight and sharply pulled me into him, his cock plunging, for the first time, up, up, deep into my soft core. With a cry I pulled my mouth away from his, arched my head, and cried out to the stars above the terrace as he, in quick succession, moved his hands to my waist and pulled me off the cock, grasped my buttocks and pulled me fully onto the cock, and repeated the long thrusts again and again, endlessly. Moments later, he wrapped his arms around me, palmed my pecs, thumbing my nipples, and in a low, hoarse voice, commanded, "Raise your arms over my head." I did so, and now, my bound wrists locked behind his neck and my chest, covered by his palms, arching out, at his command, I dug my toes into the matting behind him and pulled myself on and off his cock until he shuddered and released deep inside me.

He fucked me with him kneeling, me facing away from him, cantilevered over his thighs, my legs streaming behind him, him grasping my bound arms, and pulling me on and off the cock. He fucked me with my legs running up his chest and my body streaming out in front of his kneeling body, and him grasping my waist and pulling me on and off his cock. And he fucked me with me lying on the mat on my belly, stretched out, while he stretched on top of me, head to toe, his cock deep inside me, his fists grasping my ankles and his hips rocking, burying and withdrawing his cock.

It certainly was an evening and a night and a dawn to remember.

Near dawn he was finished taking me in every position he had wanted to and was standing beside me, where I was stretched out on the cushions, naked and exhausted, lightly panting and watching his every move, wondering if he was take me yet again. Staring down at me, he knotted his sarong around his waist and murmured, "A lovely lay. So yielding. So flexible. You'd make a high-quality courtesan, with the right training."

He sent me to the Hilton Hotel in the Mercedes saloon car in the morning's light with the comment that he had enjoyed me and looked forward to the next time I brought a program to Chiang Mai. "Give my regards to The Major, please," he said. "Tell him I enjoyed you immensely and thank him for giving you to me. I look forward to copulating with you again and introducing you to the fist and other delights. Perhaps your major will come to Chiang Mai too, and we can share you."

I shuddered with both fear and pleasure at the prospect of that. I couldn't say that I didn't look forward to that next time myself.

"Perhaps next time we can discuss drama," Krit said.

While we're creating drama, I thought. "Yes, we should."

"You were stunning as Peter in the play."

"I don't think of the character of Peter as 'stunning'."

"No, I suppose not. You were stunning as Hesphaetion, then. You remind me of my image of him. Small, blond, perfect body. Sweet, yielding lay."

"Who?"

"Alexander the Great's young lover," Krit said. "I like to think of Alexander as the great dominant male and of Hesphaetion as the perfect submissive. Every time I lay a beautiful, small blond man like you, I imagine myself as Alexander, lying with Hesphaetion. We can fuck in costume--me dressed as a Roman soldier, a conqueror and you as a serving boy."

"I suppose that's appropriate. I'm sure Alexander conquered him. You certainly conquered me."

"You did enjoy it then?" he said.

"Immensely. Deeply. Completely... several times," I answered. He smiled, understanding exactly what I meant.

* * * *

Craig Culver wasn't at the hotel. He wasn't at the hotel later in the morning when I checked out either. When I queried at the train station, I found that he had used our return train reservations, set for that day's night train--a trip I was very much looking forward to going on with him--and changed the booking to the previous night. He had used both tickets. So, he'd taken one of the male prostitutes with him. Probably Intorn, I surmised.

I booked a flight and returned to Bangkok--alone. Culver wasn't at the Ambassador Hotel. He wasn't anywhere else I tried. I saw him a couple of weeks later, at a party thrown for movie and theater folks by Burt Blackmore, publisher of a Bangkok English-language paper, but he was with the Thai student, Intorn, and I was with my major, and I didn't have a chance to speak with him. After that, it was like he had fallen off the face of the earth. I never heard from him again.

In time, I forgot what his name really was. The name "Craig Culver" was used for this telling just to identify him for this telling. I went over the movie credits and watched the film a hundred times without being able to pick him out. For all I knew, his scenes had fallen to the cutting room floor.

One thing I did not forget, though, was the three-way fucks--me, Culver, and the night train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai--I had experienced--the rare la Petite Mort-class orgasms they provided, which, strangely enough, were more sensual and fulfilling and satisfying than anything Professor Krit Thanawat did for me that first time and over the next two years of visits to Chiang Mai.

The Bangkok-to-Chiang Mai night train sex with whatever his name was were the highlights of my 1978.