Date: Thu, 26 Apr 2001 13:28:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: Steve Moreton <stemoreii@yahoo.com>
Subject: Singapore Adventure 2

Singapore Adventure 2
Steve Moreton (stemoreii@yahoo.com)

This is a work of fiction. None of the characters is real, the locales
are. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. The story was
originally posted to Nifty in 1997, and only recently did I find out that
some parts were missing, so here it is again, complete.

Singapore Adventure(c) Stephen Moreton 2001

Two

	It was after three o'clock when I got back to my hotel the next
afternoon. I was hot and tired, after chasing all over Singapore city for
the computer drafting programs I had been asked by my boss to look for on
my trip (that way, he said, it would be a business trip and I could take it
off my tax! And we did need it.)

	I ripped off my clothes and made for the bathroom for a nice long
shower, then I lay down on the bed, without dressing, to have a nap. Sleep
wouldn't come. I kept thinking about my adventure of the day before, and
young Benjamin with his wistful farewell look. My feelings about what had
happened were mixed. On the one hand, I felt a bit guilty about having had
sex with such a young boy, but on the other, I had enjoyed it immensely -
mainly the idea of enlightening a boy who was anxious to know about himself
and wasn't frightened to go for what he wanted, once he thought he had
found the right person.

	What wouldn't I have given for someone like that when I was that
age. The only person who might have enlightened me was a guy who tried to
pick me up when I was about Benjamin's age. I remembered being shocked,
excited and scared all at once, and even feeling hot around the groin, but
I was a timid and closeted child, and feared to upset my mother who was
waiting at home for me to bring back the purchases I had gone for. So
nothing had happened, and I wondered, yet again, what my life would have
been like if I had gone with the man.

	My reverie was broken by the sound of my phone. I picked it up.

	"Simon Maxton?" I wasn't expecting any calls, and hoped nothing had
gone wrong at home. A boyish voice asked: "Simon?" It was him, Benjamin!

	"Benjamin! Where are you? How did you find me?"

	"I'm downstairs, in the lobby. Can I come up? Please?"

	This was even worse. What if someone saw the boy coming up to my
room? What if people got the wrong idea? How did he find me? Should I let
him come up? Could I put him off with a story of being about to go out?
Thoughts poured through my head, and so did the memory of that wistful
look. Well, OK, but nothing, just nothing, was going to happen! I swore it!

	"I'm in 607. Ring the bell when you get here."

	Two or so minutes later the bell rang. By this time I was wearing
shorts, but before I opened the door, I glanced through the peephole. Yes,
It was Benjamin. I opened the door, and he came in, smiling, his hand held
out to shake mine. I took it, and closed the door behind him, locking it
and putting the guard chain in place, No one was going to surprise us
without a warning.

	I turned around, and he came towards me, putting out his arms and
hugging me around the waist. His head barely came up to my neck. I felt his
hair, dark and silky, against my skin, then he pulled me down and kissed
me, a long deep kiss, his tongue searching mine in my mouth.

	"How did you find me? I don't think I told you where I was
staying!"

	"You did, and it was quite simple. No one asked any
questions. There are so many people going in and out, and there's a
shopping arcade here as well, so who would take any notice? And what is
there to take notice of anyway?"

	That was that. So matter of fact, as if it was something he did
every day. I decided to offer him a drink from the minibar. He was quite
happy with a Coke, and settled down with it in one of the armchairs, while
I perched on the end of the bed and stared at him.

	"I did it again last night, and again this morning! I really love
doing it. And I dreamed I was doing it with my friend, too. Did you do it
again?"

	I confessed that I had also come twice, both times thinking of
him. He smiled at that, and asked if I would like to do it again with him,
or could I teach him something else. When he saw me come the day before, he
had wondered what it tasted like, but had been too frightened to try
it. Had I ever tasted it? What was it like?  As he spoke, he looked down,
and my eyes followed his to his groin where the telltale tent of his shorts
showed what he was looking at.

	It looked like I was expected to be his teacher come what
may. Perhaps I should have refused the day before.  But I hadn't, and here
he was again, keen to learn more. And I found myself eager to teach him,
now that he was actually with me again. I suppose it was his virginity that
so attracted me, that and his sexy little body which I was finding more and
more exciting.

	I decided that it was time for the next lesson to begin. He looked
a little sweaty, just tiny drops on his forehead and upper lip, and I
suggested a shower would be in order. Within seconds of my suggestion, he
had stripped and was into the bathroom. I followed and got the shower going
for him, then slipped off my shorts and got in with him. We were both as
hard as could be, but I decided I wanted him clean everywhere, so I soaped
and washed him, and myself, quickly, dried us both and made for the bed.

	He lay beside me, touching my body gently with his little hands,
returning time and again to my stiff cock, but whenever he started to
masturbate me, I made him stop.  This wasn't what I had in mind for this
lesson. I half rose, pushed him flat on his back, and then leaned down and
started to lick his stiff little prick.

	When my tongue touched the head, he let out a little whimper of
delight, then whispered:

	"Simon, do that again!"

	I did, and more. I started to lick his little hairless balls, and
took them into my mouth, and washed them gently with my tongue.  He
squealed with delight, so I did it again, then moved further down his crack
towards his little rosebud of an arsehole. I didn't touch it, but moved
back up and took his prick in my mouth again. He was very excited, but it
didn't stop him from pulling my head up, and asking if he could try it on
me.

	"Go ahead," I told him, "but don't do more than you feel
comfortable doing."

	He bent over me, and started licking me as I had done to him.  His
sweet little tongue on my cock felt like velvet, then he moved down and
started licking my balls, but although he tried, couldn't take them both
into his mouth at once, so without my teaching him, he took them one at a
time, sucking and licking them for all he was worth (and probably getting a
mouthful of hair in the process!).

	Then he sat up. "I haven't tasted it yet! When can I taste it?" I
told him that that was coming up, then went back down onto his little stiff
prick, this time sucking like mad, and moving my head up and down. It
wasn't long before I felt his cock jerk, and felt a little salty fluid on
my tongue.  I swallowed it, then sat up.

	"How was that, Benjamin? Did you like that?"

	"It was wonderful, better even than masturbation. But can I do it
to you now?"

	I lay back and he bent over me again, his lips poised over my cock,
then slowly his tongue came out, and he started licking the head. Within
seconds, his lips opened and he took the head into his mouth and started to
suck. He wasn't very good at it, and sometimes he scraped it with his
teeth, but bit by bit he got the idea, and soon his head was moving easily
up and down my prick. He couldn't take it all, but he tried hard, and in
the highly excited state I was in, it wasn't long before I started to pant,
and my legs to stiffen up. I called to him:

	"I'm coming! Keep going!"

	His head worked even more quickly on my over-heated weapon, and
then, it throbbed extra hard and out poured my cum. His mouth filled with
several spurts of my cum. He sat up quickly, savouring it on his tongue,
then without a murmur, gulped it down.

	"Well, how was it", I asked, "was it what you expected? Did you
like it?"

	He thought for a moment or two, then nodded slowly. It wasn't bad,
he admitted, a bit salty but certainly not nasty. He thought he could do it
again in the future quite happily with someone he liked. I hugged him to
me, and we lay for a while in silence. Then the questioning began again.

	Did I do that often? Who with? Who taught me? So I told him about
my experience. I had been only four years old when I saw a young boy and
his older friend in our neighbour's toolshed naked. The older boy, about
twelve, was sucking the young one who was about six or seven. They did not
invite me to join them, and I felt so jealous. From that day on, I tried to
find ways of looking at boys' and men's' cocks, but the only way was to go
to the change rooms at the beach, whenever the family ventured there in
summer.

	At school, I was always scared to mention anything about sex to
anyone, in case they found out about my secret interest in other
males. Even at high school, my small stature (at that time) and timidity,
not to speak of a kind of puritan cover I adopted, limited my chances for
knowledge and sexual experimentation. At fifteen I had discovered
masturbation, and a few years later, as a working trainee, had discovered
the messages in public toilets. From then on, I haunted public parks and
toilets for months until one day, a young man with a car picked me up and
took me to his flat and taught me the joys of oral sex. And yes, I had done
it quite often since then (as often as I could, in fact), but never before
with someone as young as he was.  He looked quite proud at that, and told
me that he was going to teach his best friend to do it.  How old was his
friend, I asked? The same age, they were friends and lived in the same
block, but attended different schools. His friend's name was
Christopher. He was sure he would like it.

	We went on then to talk about his school life, and his family, but
suddenly, he asked the time, and said he would have to go.  He dressed
quickly, came over to where I was sitting, put his arms around me and
kissed me gently on the face.

	"Thank you so much, you really are a lovely friend!" Then he was at
the door, it was unlocked and he was gone. No promises to come back, no
wistful looks, no farewell wave. Gone.

	I got a drink from the minibar and thought over what had
happened. We had not been disturbed. He had almost seemed in charge.  We
had both enjoyed it and that seemed the end of it. I stopped thinking about
it, forgot any lingering guilt and went out to dinner and on to a small gay
bar, where I met no one interesting, and returned home for an early night.