Thai Boy Ch. 04

Writer's note: This story contains dominance, submission, gay-for-pay, spanking, and some humiliation in public places. Just a heads up in case that is not your cup of tea.

***

I took Prasang shopping in Central Bangkok, in the area known as Siam. Everything is cheaper in Thailand and I stocked up, buying myself beach Ts, long, flowing cargo shorts, and a wide-brimmed hat for the sun.

I bought Prasang new clothes, as well. Unfortunately, he could not be naked at all times, so I chose outfits that were the next best thing.

I bought him tight t-shirts with high midriffs. Loose-fitting tank tops with arm holes that yawned all the way down to his waist, exposing his sides and much of his chest and back. These went well with high, skin-tight shorts, the kind of shorts you often see on Asian men. They catch the eye with their fluorescent yellow, pink, or orange.

The bright colors absolutely ignited Prasang's copper skin. They not only showed off his sexy, hairless legs, but framed and accentuated his perfect butt. There was also the fact that his hefty manhood could just barely squeeze into them, making for an especially impressive bulge.

My personal favorite, however, was a pair of porous trainer shorts with hundreds of tiny holes that were all but see-through.

I got Prasang a pair of shimmering emerald green. They were looser than his other shorts, yet left nothing to the imagination. They swished around his thighs and buttocks as he walked. The material was so silky smooth as it caressed him that it wouldn't be long before he sported a nice, big half-chub. I don't think it could be helped, but if we were in a public place it was noticeable to everyone and Prasang brushed profusely.

It would come highly recommended to wear underwear beneath shorts like these. But I had, of course, forbidden my boy from wearing undergarments, so there was nothing much to be done about it.

Prasang became my personal ken doll. I loved to take him into fashionable clothing stores, lead him back to the dressing stalls, strip him naked and dress him in whatever sexy men's wear they had to offer.

I never gave him any privacy, nor did I allow him to try on anything himself. I was always right there with him in the stall, helping him in and out of shirts and shorts. Fitting new outfits over the curves of his body, then peeling them off again was incredibly erotic and got me rock hard.

Once naked, he knew to immediately assume my favorite pose: Legs spread wide, biceps flexed taut. The stance that put both his virility and submissiveness on display. He stood like a living, breathing Greek statue at an arcade; my own personal sex object to do with as I pleased. I insisted he stand this way whenever I was not helping him into or out of clothes.

Upon exiting the dressing rooms to browse for more clothes, I would tap his bare thigh: The signal to start swaying his naked, exposed buns back and forth, slowly, sensually, the way I liked it. I wanted his beautifully muscled posterior moving and his cock hard for when I returned. The movement of his body was so hypnotic that sometimes I just stood there and watched, squeezing and rubbing my own cock through my baggy shorts.

Wonderful as he looked in the outfits I picked out for him, you simply could not beat how good he looked naked. I would come up behind him and run my hands over his swaying body. I trailed the tips of my fingers over his stomach and ribcage until his skin erupted in gooseflesh.

I would watch the two of us in the mirror as I squeezed his hard biceps and stroked his growing cock. He a beautifully proportioned, muscled Asian god with thick, shiny black hair and caramel skin. Me a taller, pale white guy a bit on the husky side who was frankly nowhere near his league. But that made my control over him all the more triumphant...and delicious.

Prasang could have any girl of his choosing, the most gorgeous Thai girls you could imagine. Instead, for those three weeks, his body, his cock, everything, belonged to me.

"Just look at us, Prasang," I said to our reflections in the mirror, "We make such a perfect couple, wouldn't you say?" I trailed my fingers over the chocolate-bar dimples of his abs. I probed a finger into his deep, oval-shaped navel. He drew in his breath, chest swelling beneath my touch. "Yes," he exhaled, "Yes, we look very good together, master...I think so."

"You do enjoy being my boyfriend, don't you, Prasang?" I asked, giving his nipples a hard pinch.

"MMF," he bit his lip, trying hard to keep those biceps raised and flexing. It was fun watching him struggle to show me that winning smile and turn on his infallible charm, even in his discomfort. "Yes, of course, master," he breathed, "Yes, I like it very much."

"You still think I'm sexy, right? I still make your straight, Thai boy cock hard, don't I?" I went back to stroking his thick, juicy cock. He flinched as I rolled back the foreskin to reveal that big, round, suckable cockhead. There was usually nothing but a curtain separating us from other patrons in the store. The silhouettes of two customers passed by, chatting in Thai as I stroked his silky, hard tool.

I knew anyone could pull back that curtain at any moment and see us both. It made my heart thud and my face burn when I tried to consider what we would even say if that happened. What COULD we say?

But this was Bangkok, after all. I was certainly not the first tourist to come here seeking a fling with a sexual companion for hire. I had actually seen a fair number of foreign men walking around with Thais, both male and female, younger and far more attractive than they were, so Prasang and I were not as odd a couple as you might think.

People came here from all over the world to try things they would never dream of doing at home. All the same, the idea of getting "caught" was frightening and thrilling to think about, a dangerous game I was relishing. Perhaps because I knew that for Prasang, being a native Thai and being the one who was naked, the embarrassment would be far greater. It was another means of power over him.

"Yes, yes I want you, master," Prasang choked out, at last, "I want you more and more every day...you...you make my cock so hard...I love being your boyfriend, sir."

I tapped his thigh again, "Keep those buns swaying Prasang, your naked body should be moving for my pleasure whenever possible...repeat that."

"(GULP) My...my naked body should be moving for your pleasure whenever possible...master."

"Now," I said pulling a light-pink shirt down over his head and rippling arms, temporarily restricting his sight, "Why don't you recite the love letter you wrote me this morning while I dress you. I'd love to hear it again...you don't mind, do you..?"

...

Prasang looked tantalizing walking around the streets of Bangkok in the clothes I bought him.

Just watching his ass in those fluorescent pink shorts was enough to make my cock stir. When we were in restaurants, I found excuses for him to get up and get something just so I could have another look. Even guys who were likely straight were checking him out. He was so naturally attractive already, and the clothes practically demanded attention and made him impossible to ignore.

And Prasang, to his credit, was damn good at playing the part I assigned him, all considering. He was willing to work for the money and took his role as my boyfriend seriously. I, in turn, could never seem to get enough of him.

The slope of a pec in a tight t-shirt. A hard nipple peeking from behind the strap of a tank top. The twitching of an arm roped with muscle. My body was hungry for his and I wanted to enjoy him anytime and anywhere.

I pulled him into one-person bathrooms in crowded restaurants or even Starbucks just to taste the nectar of that big, plump cockhead in my mouth.

Once we even visited the Bangkok National Museum on a rainy day when there were few visitors.

We were in an almost deserted wing filled with traditional Thai murals and statues. Prasang was playing the part of the helpful tour guide, explaining some of the history to me, but I was growing more aware of the fact that we were practically alone in that massive hall.

My attention was turning toward his bare ass beneath my favorite emerald green, see-through shorts. I watched his bronzed buns shift in the fabric, one of them perked up and went taut.

I reached down and gave him a good, hard squeeze between his cheeks. The material of his shorts was so light I could feel the heat of his hole as my fingers pressed against it. Prasang spread his legs in response. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. His cock was starting to rise, making a tent in his shorts.

I rubbed and stimulated his hole until his cock was straining like an animal in a net, desperate to be freed.

He gasped as I seized him by his erection, something I had done many times at the hotel, though never before in a public place. I felt his heartbeat pulsating in his manhood as I led him to a little alcove at the very end of the museum wing, probably for security personnel to sit and monitor on busy days. There was a wall blocking us from view of the main hall, but there was no door or barrier of any kind.

Prasang knew the drill. He assumed his verile, muscles pose as I stripped those glorious shorts off him, pulling them down around his ankles. I had his loose-fitting tank top off in seconds and then he was completely naked, right there in that big, deserted museum.

He swallowed hard, blushing and clearly uneasy about being nude and exposed, even if no one was around. He looked behind his shoulder nervously, but remained submissive to my wishes, as always.

A few skilled strokes from me and his cock was hard, staring me in the face and moist with pre-cum. Prasang moaned as I wrapped my lips around it.

As I feasted on him, I asked that he recite the note he had written me that day. His writing was getting better and hotter all the time...with guidance from me, of course.

He cleared his throat and began, a bit too quietly, not wanting to draw attention to what we were doing. "Dear beautiful, sexy Master Jim (ahhh) just saying your name makes...makes my Thai boy cock hard and my Thai boy hole tingle (UMF). Thank you for using my naked body for your pleasure (OOF) thank you for spanking my naked (MMF)...my naked, Thai boy buns when I was bad...whenever I see you, master...whenever I think of you. You make me want to cum and cum until I can't cum anymore...(ahhh)."

Despite his efforts to keep quiet, Prasang's moans echoed through the big, empty wing of the museum as I pleasured his cock. I reached back and squeezed his gorgeous, bare ass, groping and kneading until his glutes went tight beneath my grip. I reached back and gave him a good, open-palmed spanking. SMACK! "OOF!" The sound carried through the hall, rattling the glass of display cases. The sensation sent a jolt to his cock, making it thicken in my grip.

"Say that last line again, Prasang," I said looking up at him, pumping his tool, slick with my saliva. Prasang swallowed, looking nervous. Somewhere, a ways off, we heard a door open and then footsteps. Whether they were heading toward us or in another direction, it was hard to tell.

"Again, Prasang," I whispered, squeezing the head of his cock. I wedge my finger up into his hole, still moist from the scented massage oils I had applied earlier that day. My boy drew in his breath. I felt his anus loosen and accept me further in.

"You...MMF...you make me want to cum and cum until I can't cum anymore, master."

I gave him another stinging spanking on his bare butt to indicate he should say it again.

"You (URMF) make me want to cum and cum until I can't cum anymore..."

My lips slid up and down his greasy, hot pole. My finger slid further into him, going deep. I squeezed his sore ass hard with my free hand. He groaned through his moans. The footsteps were now unmistakably heading our way.

I knew we had to hurry and I found it thrilling. It was similar to the effect of standing in the pathway of a speeding train, daring yourself not to jump off until just seconds before. Knowing there were others nearby while we did this was getting me super hard.

"Again," I demanded of Poor Prasang. His hole spasmed desperately around my finger. His moans were punctuated by sounds of discomfort.

"You make me want to cum and cum until I can't cum anymore (URMF)...you make me want to cum and cum until...until- OH AHHHH." His cockhead swelled at the back of my throat like a sponge and unloaded a piping hot load into me.

He filled me up with quantities of his healthy, young spooge so that I choked a bit, swallowing it all down. I didn't have much time to savor it, nor was there time to make Prasang try some for himself. We indeed had company.

I threw him his shirt, pulled up his shorts, and grabbed him by the wrist to lead him out into the main wing.

In the big, echoing hall, a lone guard was snooping around. If we had waited another minute or two, he would have been on us and caught us in the act. He glanced at the highly-revealing clothes Prasang wore. He gave us a very dirty look and barked something in Thai. We both smiled innocently, though Prasang was blushing badly. His legs were still jelly after having just unleashed his cum into my mouth.

I put my hand around his waist to help him along and guided him off to another part of the museum.