Date: Mon, 27 Sep 2004 15:38:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: Robin Reed <any_mouse2003@yahoo.com>
Subject: Guy named Joe 7: On My Feet or On my Knees

The usual disclaimers pertain. There are graphic
depictions of sexual acts between adult males. If
there are laws against your reading them, or if you
are under legal age you are sternly admonished to
cease reading immediately. You wicked person. If you
are of legal age and blessed with the legal permission
to do what you want in privacy, enjoy. This is a
continuation of a love affair elsewhere that is
sidetracked by a relationship in Thailand, in the days
of the Khmer Rouge and the invasion of Cambodia by the
Vietnamese.

All rights reserved, comments welcome to Any_mouse2003
@yahoo.com

On My Feet, or On My Knees

If there is a nicer place in the world for an
afternoon cocktail, or frankly, anything at all in the
afternoon, it is the Oriental Hotel in Bangkok.

I was riding in a pedicab with Rick, the proprietor of
the famous Ricks' Number One steak house. My
adrenaline was still up. The little man with the gun
had seemed very serious at the time, and I was
grateful that Rick had appeared to help me extricate
the drunken katoy Amazon from the bar before something
awful happened. And that should have taught me a
lesson. Don't get involved, particularly with large
she-males who have recently raped you.

I still had mixed feelings about what she had done to
me, and did not think that cruelty should be a
component of love. And still, I wondered why that
magnificent cock of hers still floated in my memory,
detached from the pain.

They say that the body does not retain the memory of
pain, and I had to accept it. The horror of the
violation was fading. I was learning a lot of lessons
in 1975, in a town that was supposed to be a backwater
but was now in the middle of yet another war, this one
without the Americans.

I wondered why I had acted so foolishly. In the future
I was going to make a note about minding my own
business. We rolled up Sukamvit Road. Rick was silent,
and I looked at his profile: proud nose, deep
smoldering eyes. Dark hair dusted with gray at the
sides, swept back from his temple. Full sensuous lips.
He turned to me and smiled. His teeth were even, but
stained with the Dunhills he smoked.

"That was a narrow thing back there. If you had not
acted, young Amazon might well have got the surgery
she wants by gunfire. Not a happy thing." They was
only a hint of his native Hungarian in his voice. He
had been speaking English for decades, but the trace
remained in his cadence and some of his consonants.

I told him I should not have gotten involved. Amazon
didn't deserve it, I said petulantly.

"Amazon has more problems than you can imagine. My
mistress Oy has been trying to help her through her
transition, but it has been a harder task than we
originally thought. We hoped that you might be a part
of that, someone who could cool her down."

"So what are you running, Rick?" I asked. "Some sort
of queer dating service?" My tone might have been more
querulous than I liked, not the man of the world tone
I had hoped for. But my encounter with Amazon had
hurt, and I still could feel an ache in ass where her
tool had reamed me so thoroughly.

Rick looked at me levelly. "There is apparently much
about this big brown city on the river that you do not
understand, my young friend. And I hope you will
consider me your friend. You need friends in a foreign
land. Trust me, I know that well." He looked out at
the gates of the Intercontinental Hotel where they had
an elephant that lived in front. He fished in his
pocket for the red and gold package of cigarettes. He
offered me one, courteously, and I took it from left
side of the divided package. He smiled and produced a
heavy gold Dunhill lighter and lit mine, and then one
for himself. His leonine profile was wreathed in
smoke.

"Let me start by saying that there is nothing that
happens in town that the Police do not know about. You
may think this is a happy-go-lucky place of happy
prostitutes and drunken tourists, but it is much more.
The Monarchy is ancient, and the Thais were never
colonized by any of the powers. They did it by being
smart and crafty in their relations with the West. It
would behoove you to remember that." We smoked in
silence. It seemed like good advice, whether I wanted
to hear it or not, and he had survived and flourished
here for more almost thirty years.

You are going to think I am a slut, but my gaze
wandered down from his handsome face, past his
powerful shoulders and along the buttons of his loose
shirt down to where it bloused over his belt. I
imagine he had thickened a bit over the years, but he
was solidly built and exuded power. I wondered if his
body was carpeted with that wiry dark hair, and if his
cock was nestled in a thick bush, waiting to be teased
out. He had an air of authority and mystery about him,
and I found myself wishing he did not have a live-in
mistress. Of course, I thought, he is a European, and
everyone knows they are more mature about affairs of
lust.

OK, I am a slut. But all I expected was a drink. A guy
can dream, can't he?

We pulled up in front of the Oriental, under the
dignified façade that protected the guests from the
sun and the monsoon rain when it came. The British had
built the place more than a hundred years ago, and it
reeked of the old Empire smells of oiled teak and
brass.

A doorman dressed in the regalia of old Siam opened
the heavy doors and the gasp of air conditioning swept
past us as we walked into the lobby. The public rooms
were supposed to be sumptuous. You could see the
sluggish brown rope of the Chao Phya river through the
large windows.

Rick gestured toward the salon, where some tourists
were enjoying high tea and businessmen where
conferring with their Thai counterparts. Very
civilized, I thought, as we walked in. Rock selected a
table with four padded lounge chairs around it. They
were covered in a fabric of rich damasque. I sank into
the cushions as Rick sat next to me. One of the
solicitous young men in a white jacket appeared as if
by magic.

"How may I serve you, Mr. Rick?" he asked in rich
rounded English. Rick had the grace to smile with some
irony.

"I'd enjoy a Sapphire and soda, and I believe my
associate would enjoy the same, only with tonic and
lime." He turned to me, challenging me with the fact
that he knew what I had ordered at his bar, even
though he had not been there. Maybe everything was
known in this town, and I suddenly had the feeling
that I did not want to trifle with him. I thought
briefly about ordering a beer and thought better about
it. I just nodded. Associate, I thought. It seemed
like a useful term.

"Let me give you some simple rules for survival," he
said. "You should be judicious about the copy you
file. You may report honestly, of course, but careful
on mention of corruption, and be careful that you do
not criticize the local authorities. You know they
have the death penalty here for drug trafficking, and
it has not been completely unknown for earnest
reformers or journalists to be found to be in
possession of small amounts of narcotics when it is
convenient for the authorities." He lit a cigarette
and narrowed his dark brow. He leaned forward. "I can
be useful in helping to identify the sensitive areas,
though of course I am always interested in knowing
anything that might be useful from
a^Åcommercial^Åstandpoint."

He took his time over the word. "Do you really mean
military or diplomatic?" I asked.

"All things can be interesting. The human comedy is so
amusing."

There was a chill in his voice that told me it wasn't
that good a joke. The drinks arrived, the clear gin in
a short glass and the soda and tonic- Schweppes, of
course- in tiny bottles next to them. There was a
little bowl of delicate porcelain with sliced limes. I
poured some tonic into the glass and reached for a
lime slice, offering it to him first. He shook his
head as he splashed soda on his gin. "I assume I can
report on the Khmer Rouge and the Vietnamese?" I
asked.

"Certainly, within reason. It is news, after all. But
any implication that the Royal Government is
cooperating with either could raise concerns for you.
And of course they are. The Thais are survivors in
what has been a very dangerous neighborhood. I'm
telling you this as a friend."

I contemplated that information. I could swiftly get
in more trouble than I needed here. "Tell me about the
war here- World War Two, I mean."

He smiled, and the stories began. He talked of the
Tiger of Japan, and how the troops had arrived here,
not conquerors exactly, but very much in charge. He
talked about helping the poor British prisoners who
were forced to build the railway along the Kwai River
to support operations in Burma, and how that had very
nearly cost him his diplomatic status as a Hungarian
ally of Tojo. He had several lovers in the British
Officer Corps, and being young and reckless, it had
been the thing his heart told him to do.

It seemed a world away, before the French defeat in
Indo-China, before the American War and before the
Khmer Rouge came out of the jungle and began the
killing of the gentle people of Cambodia.

He must have talked for a half hour. The solicitous
young man returned and Rick ordered another for us,
noting that two was his limit in the afternoon, and
that the dinner rush would begin after his siesta with
Oy.

"How long have you been together?" I asked.

He smiled. "Since Dien ben Phu," he answered. "I had a
taste for men, but there was no overt homosexual
tradition amongst the Western Community. Oy was a very
pretty boy, from upcountry near Chaing Mai. She was
not known here except as a woman. When we were seen
together, they could whisper but never know for sure.
It was a useful relationship for us both."

I raised the glass to my lips and sipped the
astringent liquid. "Was?" I said, heart fluttering.

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Yes. I used
the past tense deliberately. Oy has come to an age
where she wants to complete the surgery that will make
her fully a woman. Out public life will continue, of
course, but with the effects of the hormones, and the
coming operation, our sexual relationship has
dwindled. We have agreed it will come to an end after
nearly twenty years. She will, of course, remain my
public escort and business partner."

"And that is how this comes to me, I suppose." I think
I looked at him with the same fascination that a
rabbit looks at a cobra. He leaned forward again, and
took my right hand in his.

"Precisely, my young friend. You are precisely what I
need. I have found that your tastes are the mirror
image of my own, and that you can accommodate a man of
some size."

"You set me up with Amazon to find out what I was like
in bed?" I asked incredulously. "You are a fucking
monster." I looked up in anger, the words coarse
against my tongue and inconsistent with the plush
chairs in which we sat.

"No," he said. "My young friend, I am a careful man
and I am a survivor. I deeply regret what happened
with Amazon. She was only supposed to sleep with you
and make you happy. I swear I will make it up to you."


I looked at him, again like the rabbit in front of the
cobra. This was probably going to be a big mistake.
But, oh! those smoldering eyes^Å

He gazed at me for a minute or a half hour, I don't
know. Finally I shook my head. He gestured for the
check and just like magic it was in his hand. He
scrawled something on it with a fountain pen and threw
some bhat on the table as a tip. He rose and extended
his hand to help me out of the cushions. I was a
little light headed. His hand brushed the small of my
back as he guided me not towards the door, but back to
one of the corridors that led to the guest rooms.

We passed a palm and were out of view of the lobby
almost instantly. Totally discrete.

"Management and I have an arrangement for the use of a
suite here when I require it," he said softly, and
then we were at one of the mahogany doors with the
shiny brass hardware and then we were through it and I
have absolutely no idea how it happened. I stood
dumbstruck as he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of
his slacks. He unbuttoned his loose shirt and gestured
for me to pick up the slacks. "Fold then so they do
not wrinkle," he said as he pulled down the waistband
of his silk boxer shorts and let them fall to the
floor. He left his socks on and walked over to a club
chair upholstered in dark leather.

I silently picked up the trousers and held them by the
belt-loops so that his wallet and keys would not fall
out, and aligned the creases properly and laid them
carefully on the bed. When I turned around his legs
were spread naturally, revealing his manhood. His
shirt hung open. His chest was carpeted with black
hair flecked with gray, tapering to his navel, and
them spreading in a path to his groin. His cock was
pale against the color of his hair, and uncut. It hung
down, flaccid, about five inches, and I imagined it
was going to be a monster when it was engorged.

He waited patiently. I walked to him and took my place
on my knees between his legs. I ran my hands over the
wiry hair of his muscular legs. This close I could
smell his musk, and the sweat from the steamy streets
on his skin. And the leather of the chair. It was
utterly male and utterly seductive. I looked him in
the eyes.

"What do you want to do, Rob?" he asked softly.

"I suck cocks. I think you have heard that. The
cock-sucking part."

"I do. I have had good reports, and much more. But for
now, let's explore that. Please, go right ahead." I
leaned forward and gave the shriveled tip a kiss. I
ran my right hand up between his legs to I could feel
his balls in his hairy sack. I would take those in my
mouth, too, but for now I gently caressed them. They
slipped through my fingers, soft and slippery and
brimming with a million sperm that soon would swim
across my tongue and into my belly.

I began to lick at his foreskin, and with my left hand
raised his stiffening shaft to my lips. I teased a
drip of clear pre-cum from the slit of his helmet and
ran my tongue over it. Rick sighed above me. I pressed
his foreskin back over the bulbous head, a dark angry
purple. He was stiffening in my hand and I saw that he
indeed had a generous cock, thick and substantial. He
was not as big as Amazon, but he was big enough that
he would extend past the back of my throat. If he
fucked my face he could get that fat tip lodged in
esophagus and shoot his load direct to my stomach.

I didn't want that just yet. For now this was a new
cock to explore and make happy, and I licked him from
base to tip and then took him deep in my soft palate
and sucked him, bobbing my head and jacking him with
my left hand as my right continued a gentle
manipulation of his ball-sack.

He seemed to like what I was doing, and I was
gratified that my service was appreciated by my new
lover. "I'm not going to last long" he groaned. "I
have wanted your young face on my dick for a month."

I kept working him, steadily, bobbing and tasting his
wonderful nectar, wrapped in a sea of musk. I could
feel his balls jerk as he bubbled toward me, and I
pulled back so that just the tip of his cock was in my
mouth. I wanted to taste every drop of him.

When his hips bucked I knew he was there, and I got
three warm jets of man-juice on my tongue. His
aftershocks brought more warm sperm to my tongue, his
jets were rich but did not erupt like Amazon or my
other, younger lovers.

As I rolled his seed on my tongue and gently lapped
his residue from the tip of my new cock I realized I
had never sucked the cock of a man this old. His seed
tasted rich, a little hint of chlorine and cloves, not
unpleasant at all. In fact, delicious.

His hands on the back of my head signaled me to stop
any motion, and as he softened he kept the pressure
there, so that I slowly sank into the black thicket of
his pubic hair.

I lapped him until his was clean. Then he pushed my
head away, gently, but firmly.

"I need to go the restaurant and I need at least part
of my siesta. I will see you later. Stop by around
10:00 pm. He rose and stepped over me. I turned, still
on my knees. I was as hard as a board. I loved the
taste of his semen. He picked up his boxers and
stepped into them, and just as briskly into his
slacks. He buckled them and then began to button his
shirt. His hair was un-mussed and he looked crisp. A
drip of his cum had run down the side of my mouth, and
I looked for it with my tongue, tasting him again.

"Let yourself out, just close the door behind you. See
you tonight, my new lover." He gave me a smile that
said if I was not already on my knees I would be there
again soon. He walked to the door and vanished into
the hall.

I licked my lips, still on my knees. I had something I
had wanted to do, but I had completely forgotten what
it might be. Then it struck me. I wondered where Joe
was, and if he was having the same sort of day I was.

Copyright 2004 any_mouse2003@yahoo.com