Date: Wed, 22 Apr 2015 07:25:28 +0000 (UTC)
From: Lop Buri <lop.buri@yahoo.com>
Subject: THAI LOO

THAI LOO EXPERIENCE by Aihu Fist.

I was sweating profusely, there, inside the men's room. My hands were
shaking and I bit my lower lip. In a foreign country, I was a stranger. A
stranger to whom they always smiled because I was a farang (foreigner). I
had cropped blond hair and blue eyes, which made me look like a god on
earth. My fair complexion was what the people were after, or rather were
told to go after; it was the summum of beauty. Dark skin was to be
shunned. I enjoyed that adoration and felt I could get away with many
things just because of my white skin. Everything was pale white,I was a
ghost compared to their chocolate colour. But I, for one, I adored dark
skin, as a little boy I always wanted to be dark and tribal; painted all
over with organic pigments which would me turn into a young warrior.

I found myself in a park urinal, at dusk. There were only two urinals and
one cubicle that had a western toilet in it. Between us; I had relieved
myself here a week earlier.

I was two heads taller than him. Him? He was black-haired like all
Asians. Prominent high cheekbones, long black eyelashes, curly fat lips
that protruded from under his nose in elegant curves. He wore his school
uniform which consisted out of a white short sleeved shirt, red shorts just
one hand above the knee, a belt with boy scout style buckle, white socks,
and black shoes.

He was focusing on his nether parts, still hidden behind his fly. However,
he seemed to be in a hurry- maybe he could notnhold it up any longer- as he
was nervously fumbling at the damn fly, which was all buttons. Maybe he was
insecure having to do this next to an adult, a stranger, a farang? I almost
said; "Can I help you?" But I remained mute; my tongue felt trapped behind
my thin lips. Then he looked up as if he felt I was spying on him, which I
was. I smiled as broad as I could. He quickly looked back at his problem,
down, into the urinal. He unfastened one button, his fingers trembled a
notch more.

I looked at the elegant shape of his body; the nice adolescent curve of his
back, the shirt becoming translucent by the sun that shone on him through
the small window from the side. The men's room reeked of male odours, the
urine was all too dominating. However, instead of putting me off, it turned
me on. His bum, neatly packed in the red cotton fabric, which I so fancied
pulling down, stuck out. They were well ironed, those shorts, and taken
care of by his mum, I thought. But who took care of his body parts that had
been craving caresses ever since he had reached puberty? Was this boy, so
insecure, so shy, who, when alone, would snatch his own juicy pearls, pent
up too long in a delicate little pouch? I bit my tongue, I realized I was
daydreaming too long. I could not let this boys escape from here.

The second button seemed to be a difficult one. Again he looked up and we
exchanged meaningful looks. I grinned. He looked exasperated. His Bambi
eyes lingered on my sapphire coloured ones. Then his lips parted, I saw his
pink tongue darting over his ivory white teeth. I heard him say; `I want
you' in slow motion. Of course it was my imagination.

"You need help, boy," I asked in Thai.

His jaw dropped and said nothing back.

I pointed my finger to the cubicle. He followed my finger and looked at it.

"Over there," I said.

The tip of his tongue reached his upper lip. He hesitated, looked at his
fly, then at the floor, turned on his heels and walked fast to the loo.

Wow, I scratched my head. I forgot to tell you that I was dressed like a
teacher; in black slacks, white shirt, sporting black shoes and white
socks, neatly trimmed hair, and beardless. Perhaps, I also looked like the
perfect young Latter Day Saint missionary. God, I wish I could bed one of
those all blond All-Young-Americans before the and reached puberty.

Of course I was not a teacher, but had merely adopted the respectable
teacher uniform which Thais so much respect and revere. Maybe the boy
thought I was a teacher, hence he obeyed me like a pupil should.

I had not yet taken a leak, not so much as opened my own fly, `cause I had
been too busy spying on the boy. It was time I followed his tracks. He had
not even closed the door behind him. So, I just pushed it further open,
which was no problem as the cubicle had enough room for three people.

He stood there, legs apart, cursing the buttons. He looked over his
shoulder and his mouth fell open. I locked the door behind me, and put my
finger over my lips. Contrary to what I had thought, he had not grasped
what I had sent him here. Surely, he thought that I was embarrassed in his
stead for not being able to open his fly. How old was he? Let me think...He
looked nine or ten years old, and in Thailand that it is very common to be
mistaken in guessing ages, or should I say Asia. Because they are not that
tall and nearly all lack facial hair even as young adults you can easily
take twenty year old for a fifteen year old. Maybe he was twelve or
thirteen already. I would only know if I saw his appendage with or without
pubic hair. I love very young boys and my range has expanded over the
years. This one definitely took my breath away. I was not going to ask for
his ID.

I smiled and said; "Are you afraid?"

He shook his head. He grimaced and pointed at his fly. I got closer and put
my hands on his fragile shoulders. I slightly moved my hands around them
and massaged them for minute. Then, I closed in on him, my cock touched the
small of his back; it felt so good. I got very hard. Did he feel my cock in
his back? I wondered. My hands ran to where I thought his nipples were and
rubbed them too. Round and round in circles, twirling like rolling a a
cigarette. Next, my fingers went searching for his shirt buttons and popped
out one just under his throat, and another one just a bit lower, and then
the middle one, next the one that covered his belly button. I inhaled
deeply and faster.

There was neither a fan in this place, nor was it air-conditioned
either. My shirt was soaked wet already, his too, although he did not
perspire as I did. He was a native after all.

When at las his shirt lay open, I now had to deal with his vest. I rolled
it upwards thus liberating his skin and exposing it to the humid air, which
hung upon us like an invisible cloak. He stood still and let it all happen
to him. No signs of annoyance, but no goosebumps of surprise and joy
either. Yet, he did not pull away from me. His posture was not rigid but
relaxed.

On the three walls that surrounded us I spotted Thai graffiti that depicted
a huge cock with telephone numbers on them. He saw me looking at it and
smiled.

I took his shirt off and got rid of the vest and threw it in a
corner. Lucky for his mum and him that the floor was so clean you could eat
from it. Thais are obsessed with cleanliness. Now, I pressed his body to
mine and caressed his naked chest, my loins were hard to restrain, they
wanted to buck. This boy liked what was happening, he also liked me. The
vibes between us said it. I crouched and grabbed his thighs. I lifted him
up and in one go I placed him on the toilet seat.

"Nalak (cutie pie)", I whispered.

He turned his head over his shoulder again and smiled from ear to ear.

I unbuckled his belt and got the shorts down to his ankles. Oh my god, his
neat and round bum was wrapped up in cotton pink undies. I think I went
tilt! Then those legs of his, solid caramel in flesh, hairless of course,
soft as silk on speed was at my fingertips. I nearly went into a delirium
when I ran my fingers from the calves up to his undies. They had to come
down, fast, dammit. Why was he taunting me, provoking me with pink? Did he
know he was going to meet me? Had he lured a farang before? If not, then
why did he allow this without resisting me? I saw him putting his thumbs
behind the elastic band; he was going to get rid of his pink briefs? i
don't think so, I thought.

"NO," I nearly screamed at him.

"I shall do this!"

At first my left hand wandered off to touch the boy's sensitive spot, you
know, the one between the boy's pouch and the boy's hole. I rubbed it
slightly there, just to be sure that I was in control. Then I pushed my
flat hand into that place and carried his little pouch bag containing the
boy jewelry. My right hand slid into the briefs from the right side and
assessed it lovingly. Measuring the curve of that soft bun was a joy to
behold, the twin on the right side was aching for some feeling up too. The
boy contracted both buns with the slightest touch of my fingertips. He was
so sensitive there, oh yes he was. Next, I held both buns and squeezed and
prodded them a little while. They got harder, contracted and decontracted.
What did he feel? I stretched the pink fabric like I wanted to rip them
apart, but instead, my index fingers and thumbs got hold of it and tore
them down. Oh, my gosh, two mocha toffees to bite in.

I could not resist; my nose was faster than my mouth and tongue, and it got
stuck in the boy's inroad. Oh, that sweat from oppressive heat combined
with the boy's inner heat, that became the lube, the K-Y, for my nose to
slip and slide in and out. My hands could not sit still. They ran off to
the boy's front and grabbed the boy's dangling smooth sac to play with. Not
one hair came my way...smooth like a baby. Within minutes they pulled,
rubbed, squeezed the entire package and his little bird grew in size,
scouring its surroundings. I helped it in that. I took the bird's blindfold
off and teased it. Oh, that tight little foreskin...pulling it behind the
bird's head was a joy for both of us.

"Chorp, mai crap (your like it) ?" I asked.

His eyes peered at me and shone. He said no word, not one, he just rolled
his eyes back and nodded. The show could go on. The shorts, shoes, socks,
came all off and I began licking of the pearls of sweat there and then. I
turned him round, so he was now facing me, and I stepped back to scrutinise
him from top to toe. His little, lithe penis, stood up like a chedi stuck
to his groin.

"Your balls and stupa, need licking, boy."

He only raised his eyebrows a little and let it all happen. I could not get
enough of that salty sweat. I sat on my haunches while I gobbled up his
priceless prick. He was to learning and slowly his shyness left him like
snow for the sun. Then surprise, surprise, he laid his hands on my head an
pulled it farther over his rubbery stem, gradually increasing the bucking
in my mouth. I first thought I was imagining it, but he began to groan,
like a little mouse on sterioids. Shrill but persistent.

"More?" I asked.

He nodded and replied; "Moa, sir."

He pumped away, while my hands assailed his buttocks and parted them as far
as I could. My cock's head wanted to poke through my fly and find a way of
release. My mind raced ahead of it, trying to come up with the next
strategy to make this boy surrender to his nascent lust. He had it all in
him. I could sense that no one ever had touched him there, I mean, what was
waiting to be touched. That gateway was being stretched beyond endurance.
My two middle fingers crawled to it. First I had to feel it before I lay my
eyes on it.

Out of the blue, I sang Tommy's song in reverse; See me, Hold me, Touch me,
Feel me.  The tune did not stop in my head; the Eurythmics popped up with;

"Some of us want to use you,
Some of them want to use you,
Some of them want to be used by you,
Some of them want to abuse you,
Some of them want tore abused;
Everybody is looking for something!"

I held his hooded cockhead trapped between my teeth while one middle finger
stabbed him in the bull's eye, the second finger went for it too and then
both took turns on it in pulling it apart.

The boy winced and smiled, he was too proud to groan, instead he stood on
his toes and bit his lower lip. My teeth rolled the tight foreskin back and
forth. I tasted a drop of salty liquid, pre-teen nectar oozing on my
tongue.

"Let it go boy."

He closed his eyes and endured. I was the shaman and he the novice. I was
going to suck up his boy spirit and inject the catamite one. His hole was
dry like cork. Oh, Ganymede, is this what you did to Zeus?

"Turn around."

He opened his eyes wondering what I had whispered. The sign language came
in handy.

He spun in a second and offered me his ass like a good acolyte would do
after mass. He was learning fast, because he bent over to the tiled wall,
supporting himself on his hands. He knew what I wanted, obviously, or he
enjoyed it so much that he did not want me to stop there and then. Again I
pried the fleshy walls apart and flicked my pointy tongue in it, as deep
and fast as I could. Oh, dear me, I was wet all over, leaking pre-cum for
sure in my underpants, whereas my own rosette was yearning for dick as
well. Unfatigued, I yanked at his minute prick, while I mined his rosy boy
hole. I jerked faster at it, while I unzipped my own fly and released my
wicked cock. Two cocks in two hands is better than ten in the bush, I
hummed.

But what if someone else entered this men's room? No one would, the park
was about to be closed. My attention was brought back to the cause why I
was still here. The boy's legs tensed up and shook ferociously. No doubt he
was enjoying it. I pulled my hand away, slapped him on the butt with the
same hand. A pink hand print would have been visible on a white skin, not
on this brown cake, it was. I pulled him round by his prick and made him
watch me masturbate.

"Look, look!"

I pulled him off the throne and sat him on his knees.

"Len, len (play play), I suggested.

The boy grabbed my dick and awkwardly touched my balls. He glared at me; I
was towering over him, my cock horizontal at the height of his fat negroid
lips.

"Soop buri" (smoke the cigarette), I said.

The big mouth went wide open and I landed my dick in it. His fat purple
lips rolled forth and back like a steamroller.  He was only ten, but he had
the perfect mouth and space to swallow mine. It fit like hand in glove.

"Go on, boy, go on."

He could even smile when he sucked me off. Ever so obedient and willing to
please me.

I increased the pace and he increased the pressure of his lips on my cock's
head. We were doing fine, real fine. He finally grabbed his own and jerked
away on the rhythm he knew best. I cupped his head with both my hands and
dick-mouthed him in slowly. I told him to just lick around the head and
play with my balls.

"Your finger," and I made signs, "here up my hole," I ordered.

He liked that order. His eyes popped and after I had stripped off my
trousers and underpants he pushed four fingers straight up my cunt. He
plucked at my copious pubic hair in my ass and around my cock. Then I mimed
him to open his garage again so I could park my big dick in it. Hell, I
normally do not brag about the size of my dick, but I have more than the
average of dicks. A good nineteen centimetres - I read the world average is
thirteen and a half.

I did not have time to tell him I was about to come in spurts, for the
first salvo must have gotten past his gullet into his guts before he knew
and quite quickly after that, the second one raced after it, which he
wanted to abort but I was quick enough to keep his lips glued over my
cock-head. The third, fourth, and fifth, was definitely not going diving,
instead it oozed, dribbled, leaked over his lower lip and chin. The sixth
shot ended up in his eye, and last but not least, the seventh crashed on
his chest.

I showed him my tongue and how he could lick my ass too. But he refused, he
hated to lick that hair, he said. His prick was still poking at the
ceiling, so I jerked him off. Not one drop of spunk came out of it, however
he copiously gave me golden shower on my belly. That turned him on.

When I got dressed and he was getting his clothes back on, he said;
"Sawadee crap (goodbye)", and folded his hands in customary fashion and
respectfully before his face to wish me goodbye. I nodded and winked and
gave him my telephone number. I was positive that he would keep it to
himself.

A week later I had a text message from him.

"Can we meet again?"