When I turned thirty, I decided to treat myself to a month in Thailand.
Bangkok is like Third World Asia on steroids. A wild clash of dusty streets jammed with taxis and tuk tuks that veer off into tranquil and immaculate temple compounds.
On scorching hot days I visited the Royal Palace, Wat Pho with its massive, reclining Buddha, and the ancient, stone monolith of Wat Arun on the other side of the Chao Phraya River.
When the sun went down, I headed to Patpong: one of the world's most famous red light districts. The real reason many tourists come to Bangkok.
I strolled through the night market, the air filled with the smell of incense and street food. Merchants sold cheap goods: watches, T-shirts, Buddha statuettes.
Flashy signs hung in the night sky above me. Names like "XXX," "Go-Go Girls," and "Pussy Emporium" were spelled out in neon; accompanied by posters of appropriately sexy women.
Men emerged from club entryways; what in Bangkok are called "ghost guides," to try and lure me in. "Come see the show, lots of sexy girls. Come in and have a drink, sir."
I looked to the ground and put on my stone face. "What kind of girls you like, sir? We have every kind of girl? What kind you want, sir?"
I caught glimpses of what was in these clubs. Petite Thai girls on a stage. They wore nothing but bras and panties, each one pinned with a number.
That, of course, was not what I was after.
I rounded a corner and crossed the street. In Patpong, all the "male clubs" are conveniently located in one alley.
Here, the signs featured fit, sexy Thai men. They had names like "Adonis" and "Beefcake." I saw advertisements for "ladyboy shows" and "live sex shows."
I'd seen a little bit of both. The ladyboys were entertaining enough. Some of them silly and outrageous, others flawless specimens of feminine beauty. A few could have gotten the straightest of men hot under the collar, I figured.
The sex show I'd watched the day before featured nude guys on a stage wacking a miniature plastic bowling ball around with their erect penises, trying to knock over toy pins.
It ended with two Thai boys making their way around the club as a human wheelbarrow. The one in front walked on his hands with his legs wrapped around his partner. The partner held him up while simultaneously fucking him in the ass. They walked and fucked their way to every table, collecting tips.
Apparently, they wear a special kind of condom that pinches the base of the penis and allows them to stay hard for an especially long time.
Tonight, I was interested in more than shows. This was the kind of place where you go into a club and "rent" a man for the evening.
I had never paid for a guy before, but I had a lot of money to spend and I was curious. This is what people come to Bangkok for. It is easier to do here than anywhere else in the world. When in Rome, right?
I ducked into a doorway beneath a sign flashing "Male Body Palace." Inside was a darkly lit club with black walls and an elevated, cube-shaped stage. Twenty or so Thai boys were lined up, on full display.
The club's madam appeared at my shoulder: a stylish ladyboy with his face made up and his hair in a long braid down his back.
He was not wearing women's clothes, but a man's suit with a red boutonniere. He put his hands together and bowed in traditional Thai fashion. "Welcome, my name is Lom, please sit down."
It was around ten o' clock and the club was mostly empty. A handful of overweight, middle-aged white men sat together on one of the black leather couches that spanned the entirety of the room. They sipped drinks and chatted with each other. I went and sat on the opposite side.
A short waiter with neatly-combed hair and a handsome face approached me. "Hello, I am Chai, what can I get you to drink?"
They constantly pester you to spend money in these places. I ran up a pretty good bill the night before. But now, I genuinely did want to loosen my nerves a little.
"Screwdriver, please," I said. The waiter bowed and went away.
Hot lights bore down on the fit, young men on the glittering center stage. A group of five or so lined each of its four edges.
They were naked except for identical pairs of white briefs with a red elastic band. Like the women I'd spotted earlier, each one had a number pinned to his underwear.
A slow techno beat blared over the speakers. Some of the guys attempted to sway their hips and move sensually to the music. Most of them looked bored, hugging themselves or awkwardly scratching their forearms.
A few noticed me sitting alone and tried to get my attention. They grinned big, flipped their tongues and gestured to their bulges. I chuckled and looked away.
Thai men in general are physically attractive, with their slender features, hairless, defined chests and orange-brown skin that light simply worships. These guys were no exception. Some had oiled themselves up, which accentuated their curves and gave an especially nice gleam to their bodies.
Chai the waiter came back and set my screwdriver down at the wheel-sized table in front of me. I sipped it, wanting the alcohol to go to my head.
"Which boy you like?" Asked Lom the madam, suddenly perched on the couch next to me. "You want to talk to a boy just tell me the number and you chat."
"Thank you," I said, a bit annoyed. "I'm just looking." He got the message and went away.
Every ten minutes or so, the boys changed their positions on stage. The five standing in front walked single file to the right side, the ones on the right walked to the back and so on.
Far on the other end of the very long couch sat a group of ten other scantily-clad guys waiting to go on.
Occasionally, someone on stage got tired and traded places with a guy on the couch.
Lom came back and attempted to point men out to me. "He is very sexy, no? You want to chat with him? You see a boy you like, you can take him back to your hotel room, okay?"
I sipped my screwdriver, ignoring him. He gave up and tried to chat up the group of men on the other side.
The boys were all fine specimens, though none of them specifically caught my attention. That is, until I noticed number fifty-three.
He was a head taller than the others. He had thick, luxuriant black hair and a fair face with wide, shining black eyes. He was beaming radiantly out into the club like a Disney prince. He looked eager to make friends, eager to be chosen.
His pearly white teeth beautifully set off the dark, mocha tone of his skin.
He was sculpted and athletic with broad shoulders; arms and legs thick and well-proportioned.
My eyes moved up and down the contours of his body. He was elegantly muscled, his chest knotted and well-defined.
I watched his taut stomach with its deep, oval-shaped navel rise and fall. The light caught the dimples of a chocolate-bar abs, he was developing a six pack.
The muscles in his upper arms flexed as he hugged himself. I watched the way he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
He was both confident and vulnerable. His hair and skin shown seemingly from an inner glow as much as from the blaring lights overhead.
Lom's keen eye caught me watching him. "Number fifty-three, you like? Very sexy boy." I had to agree. I had just spied the impressive curve of his backside as he changed positions. It was so round and tight in that white speedo as to almost defy gravity.
"You want to chat, number fifty-three?" Lom pressed.
Number fifty-three's eyes suddenly met mine. His grin broadened and he bit his lip seductively.
Without giving myself time to think it over, I nodded. Lom stood up and got his attention. Number fifty-three made his way to the right and down the stairs, grinning broadly as he approached me.
"Good evening," he put his hands together and bowed. I bowed back. He came and sat down next to me in the place Lom had been.
"Drink for him?" Lom asked, the waiter at his side. I told number fifty-three to order whatever he wanted. He chose rum and coke, one of the more expensive things on the menu.
The alcohol was going to my head and I surveyed his bronzed, muscular body, offset nicely by those white briefs.
My body immediately began to awaken to his presence.
His muscular arms were sleeved with black ink tattoos. They coiled around him like snakes patterned in tear-shaped scales, or maybe flames of fire.
"I am Prasang," he said, grinning that champion smile.
"Jim," I said, giving him my firmest possible handshake. I watched his bicep ripple as he squeezed my hand.
Chai came with the rum and coke and another screwdriver for me. Prasang picked up his drink and sipped delicately through the straw.
I leaned in, feeling the heat from his body. "Were you having fun up there?" I smirked.
He smiled and shook his head. "Very boring."
"So what do you do when you're not showing off your hot body on a stage?" I boomed at him over the loud music.
He smiled, looking a bit embarrassed. "I am a university student. I do this to make money." I nodded my head, surprised, but appreciative of his honesty.
I complimented him on his English, though in my experience many Thais speak the language quite naturally.
He said he was twenty-four and had been doing this about three months now.
"You get a lot of business?" I asked, pinning him with my gaze.
"Yes, quite a bit," he looked cocky even as he blushed.
That wasn't terribly surprising. I could imagine him getting "chosen" more frequently than some of the other boys.
"I like your tattoos," I said. My head was swimming with alcohol and I felt ready to escalate things.
"Thank you," he said politely.
"Can you flex your arm for me?"
He didn't understand the word "flex," so I mimicked it with my own arm. He made a fist. The big, firm lump of his muscle popped out.
I pushed against its hardness. "Impressive," I said, "You're a real muscle man." He laughed shyly and thanked me again.
"Any tattoos back here?" I tapped him on the back, thoroughly turned on at the opportunity to explore his body.
Prasang sat forward and showed me. He had one of those Buddhist tattoos covering his entire back like many Thai men have. This one was a complex stencil of a Theravada Buddha sitting on a lotus. Eyes open.
The snake/flame pattern on his arms flowed outward from this figure, making it seem like the Buddha himself was engulfed in a holy fire.
The full tattoo ran down his back and underneath his briefs where I could not see.
I hooked my finger into his undies and pulled back the elastic. The tattoo ran down into the crevice of his ass, but his pert, round buns were left uninked.
"Beautiful," I whispered. He laughed again as I playfully snapped the elastic back.
In my drunkenness, I began tracing my finger over the contours of the Buddha: the face, the torso, then down to the lotus throne.
My cock was rising as I touched him. He was warm. His skin was smooth as silk. He gleamed with health in the light. I trailed the fingers of both hands down his back, mesmerized.
I lifted up his arms at the elbow. "Could you flex for me one more time? Both arms, please."
Prasang straightened his spine and rolled back his shoulders. He tightened both arms in a muscleman pose.
I ran my fingertips lightly over his back, swelling with hot desire. I followed the shallow crevice of his spin down to his briefs. My hands looked especially pale against the black and brown of his body.
I pressed my thumbs into him. "Ahhh," he breathed. He leaned back into the sensation of my large, capable hands upon him. I looked over his shoulder and noticed he was expanding in his white speedo. All the while, he kept that muscle pose, keeping his biceps taught. He seemed willing to hold it as long as I wanted him to.
I was learning quickly that he enjoyed having his body admired. My desire grew tastier as I realized how compliant he was. How eager he was to please a client. This situation had potential.
The fact that I was fully clothed in my t-shirt and jeans while he was nearly naked made it even more thrilling.
My hands made their way up his strong, v-shaped back until I was cupping his shoulders.
"Does that feel good, Prasang?" I asked.
"Yes," he purred.
I squeezed the bulging muscles of his still flexing arms. "Do you like my hands or your body?" I breathed the words onto the nape of his neck. I saw the hairs stand up.
"Yes," he breathed. I leaned in to see his eyes were closed as he enjoyed the sensation. His pink tongue ran the length of his full, luscious lips. They looked ripe and tasty as passion fruit. "Yes...yes I like it..."
The palpitations of my heart were increasing. He kept striking his pose until I lowered his arms for him and invited him to sit back. The front of his speedo was swelling still bigger.
"So are you gay then?" I asked. I felt more forward, more in charge of him all the time. I had to swallow down my saliva.
Prasang thought. He crossed his thick arms, resting them just beneath his round pecs. "I would say I am about seventy percent straight and thirty percent gay." He smiled that cocky smile again.
I raised my eyebrows. I had never heard anyone frame their sexuality quite like that before. Some men may have been turned off by the idea of his being only a little bit gay. I, on the other hand, was turned on.
I smiled and moved a bit closer to him. I wrapped one arm around his shoulder. I walked two of my fingers up his bare leg. He was not at all resistant, though I watched his brown body break out in gooseflesh in response to my touch.
"So, do you have a girlfriend, then?" He chuckled uneasily, in spite of himself. He was blushing deeply now. I liked watching him blush, he was beautiful in his embarrassment. "No," he swallowed, "Not really...not right now."
"Not really?" I said in fake astonishment, my fingers getting closer to his waking cock. "Just a little bit maybe..? A friend with benefits to keep this guy happy?"
I reached up and pinched the head of his penis through his white briefs. He giggled in embarrassment, face burning red now. I could feel the heat of it.
I chuckled, too. By this time my cock was straining in my jeans, wanting to be freed, wanting him. I gave his bulge a good squeeze before letting go.
"You like him, no? He's very sexy." Lom was back. "You like him, you can take him back to your hotel room."
I had to admit, I was tempted. "How much?" I asked, caressing Prasang's shoulder. "Fifteen thousand baht for two hours," Lom said.
That is about forty-five American dollars. Not a bad price, particularly considering the specimen I would be getting.
"And what could we do in that time?" I asked. Now Prasang leaned forward and laid his hand on top of mine.
"Anything you want," he said, voice lowered. He looked at me with his shining black eyes. He licked his full, glistening lips again.
"Anything you want for two hours. Massage. I can give you a traditional Thai massage. Very relaxing."
"Oh really?" I said playfully. A massage was not what I had in mind, but I decided to indulge Prasang. I held out my arm, "can you give me a demonstration?"
Balling his hands into fists, the handsome boy pressed my arm between both of his.
I am quite big and strong myself (though more in a husky bear kind of way) but this was almost like being pressed in a vice.
He worked his way up to my forearm. I drew in a hissing breath as my muscles turned to jelly in his grasp. "Wow," I said in some discomfort, "You are definitely as strong as you look."
"Yes, very big and strong," said Lom at my side, "Strong in the bedroom, too."
I looked at Lom with annoyance. I am not the type who likes to be pushed into things or to make decisions on the spur of the moment.
I prefer to be in control of a situation.
I paid for my drinks, gave both Lom and Prasang a generous tip, then headed for the door.
"Come back again," Prasang said to me in that same low voice before I departed, "I will wait for you." I took a last glance back at him, sitting there smiling that beautiful smile in full, muscular nakedness.
The night air felt good on my face after the heat of the club. Neon lights swam in front of me as I tried to navigate the busy alley. Ghost guides called me to come to their clubs.
I took a detour out of Gay Alley and found a seat at a local outdoor food stand. I ordered a steaming plate of Pad Thai and a bottle of water.
As I sat there, I thought of Prasang. His gorgeous, gleaming body. His smile. He was so eager to please. So willing to let me enjoy him. "I will wait for you," he had said.
As I slurped the noodles down, my head cleared and I became more enticed by the prospect of what we might do. Of the various activities we might engage in.
He would surely be the most attractive man I'd ever gotten my hands on. It would cost, but he seemed willing to work for the money.
Anyway, I was pulling in some good dough now and who knew what he would be willing to do for the right price?
I paid the bill and headed down the street to a 7/11. I found what I was looking for: a little bottle of rubbing oil. I paid, then stuck it in the pocket of my jeans.
"Hello, good evening, sir, welcome back," Lom bowed as I entered Male Body Palace once again. I'd been gone for about twenty minutes. "Number fifty-three?" I asked. I hoped to God no one had snatched him up.
Lom gestured to Prasang. He was over in the far corner, sitting with the other boys on the sleek, black couch.
When he saw me, his face lit up. I could see the flash of his white teeth even through the din. He jogged triumphantly over to me and bowed. "Hello again, sir."
"Shall we do this?" I asked, my voice husky, confident. He took my hand in both of his.
"Yes, I want to...with you," he held me with that hypnotic gaze, "I really want to."
I have never swooned before, but with the way this gorgeous Thai boy was looking at me, I'm not sure anyone could have blamed me if I passed out right then.
He went back to the locker room to put his clothes on. I paid the club fee to Lom.
"He's a very sexy boy, no?" Chai the waiter was back. "He is," I nodded coolly, "You like him, too?"
Chai smiled. "Oh yes, very sexy. But he is a straight boy, though. I am a gay. When you come back tomorrow, you can buy me, okay?"
He undid the first three buttons of his white dress shirt to reveal his bronze chest. I reached in and caressed the silky smoothness. I nodded in approval. "Very nice."
Chai produced a card and scribbled his name and cell phone number on it. "Call me," he smiled, then went away.
Business was picking up at the club. There were more tourists now, some of them seated with Thai boys from the stage.
I saw one of the middle-aged white men from before, chatting with a petite young man, his large paw cupping the boy's crotch.
Soon Prasang was back. He was wearing a stylish t-shirt and stone-washed jeans. A black gym bag was slung over his shoulder. His tattoos may have looked even more sensual coming out of his shirt sleeves.
Grinning warmly, he embraced me with one powerful arm. "Okay, just follow me." He took my hand and guided me out of the club. "Have fun," called Chai behind us.
We walked like two lovers, hand in hand. I felt weak at the knee, like a high school girl who had just snagged a date with the star quarterback.
Ghost guides whooped and jeered when the two of us passed by. Prasang grinned and blushed.
He led me to the very end of Gay Alley and turned right. Another right turn led us to a street along a busy highway.
"The hotel is just this way," said Prasang, still holding my hand. The idea was to go to a special hotel nearby that you could rent for a few hours.
A "fooling-around" hotel as opposed to a "sleeping" hotel.
I smiled at him and put my arm around his strong shoulder again. "So we can do whatever I want tonight, right?" My heartbeat picked up. It was time to discuss how I wanted things.
He nodded, smiling sweetly, "Yes, whatever you want me to do. I am yours for two hours."
I lowered my hand from his shoulder to his firm ass in those jeans. I squeezed. It was tight and round as a ripe fruit. He half laughed, half coughed. I saw nervousness behind his amiable grin. Anyone driving down the highway would have seen us together. Would have seen my gratuitously groping him.
"So, you're going to be my boyfriend tonight, right Prasang?" I squeezed a bit harder. He swallowed, then nodded. "Yes, yes I'll be your boyfriend tonight."
I hurried him along, deliberately picking up the pace. I enjoyed the increased movement of his ass beneath my hand.
"You can be my boyfriend," I said, "But you're going to have to earn it...it's fifteen hundred baht, right?"
He nodded again, catching his breath, "Yes."
"I could make it more than that. I could even double it, but that all depends on you...are you going to do a good job tonight?"
His breaths increased as we walked faster, though his eyes lit up at the idea of making double the money. "Yes, yes, of course," he said eagerly, "I'll do whatever you want, I promise."
I squeezed his moving, round ass again and gave it a good, hard pat. "That's what I like to hear. Now, let's get to that hotel."