Extreme Gay Thailand 1978 Ch. 02

Krit inserted a hand in the folds of his harem pants and produced a cock nearly a foot long, snake-like, not thick, but arrestingly long, and smiled at the blond as, elegantly dressed in traditional Thai silks, he watched the young men working each other and stroked his own cock. The blond gasped at the sight of what the tall Chinese man had between his thighs. His eyes slitted and he licked his lips in arousal. Brad stared too, in appreciation, but as he had had the snake-like shaft inside him already, not to mention the slender, long-fingered hand that Krit was stroking himself with, his reaction wasn't as pronounced as the blond's initial one had been.

The Chinese man didn't stay around for any releases. Having established his presence and his preference, he deftly made his cock disappear again in the folds of his harem pants and, giving a smile and a slight bow, quietly withdrew. A few seconds later, as Brad Blackmore was whispering in the blond's ear, the blond tensed, jerked, and shot an arc of cum up onto his flat belly.

Krit wandered down another wing of the sprawling structure and paused at yet another door into a bedroom, drawn again by the sounds of sex, although of a different nature than he'd heard from the three nineteen-year-olds, knowing now that he had seen Brad that the other two were classmates of Brad's at Columbia and were the trio that this party was honoring.

This was a more substantial bedroom than the other one had been. It was draped in silks, Jim Thompson premium silks, Krit was sure. The Jim Thompson of the revival of the Thai silk industry of the 1950s fame had lived in the neighboring house on the khlong, which was now a museum. Thompson was an American who was rumored to be a U.S. spy in addition to a silk manufacturer and who disappeared mysteriously on a nature trail in the 1960s in the Genting Highlands of Malaysia. His silk company was still considered to provide the highest-premium silk goods.

The party's hostess, Suket Blackmore, partially dressed in a stunning silk dress of a vibrant rainbow of colors, was sitting at the foot of the bed. Black bull stud Major Mike LeBeau, of JUSMAG, the Joint U.S. Military Assistant Group, a military unit contingent connected with the American embassy, was standing in front of her, spiffily dressed in formal Army blues. Suket's bodice, buttoning down the front, was unbuttoned and flared, and The Major--as all called LeBeau in addition to sometimes referring to him dimensionally as Ten-Two, was leaning over, working her ample breasts with his beefy hands. His cock was jutting out from his fly and Suket had a hand wrapped around its base and was sucking it. The Major's jet-black shaft surpassed Krit's in that it not only had length, but it had great girth as well, thus the nickname of Ten (length) Two (circumference).

The two were not alone in the bedroom. Sitting off to the side with his own cock out and stroking it, was the other black man in the city who rivaled The Major in muscularity and dimensions. Cowboy was a bisexual American, who had been a professional basketball player in the States, and had been caught shaving points for money, and who, after a short stint with the U.S. Air Force in upcountry Thailand, had taken his illicitly gained betting money and brought it here to Bangkok to open sex bars of all preferences. He now had his own street of such establishments named Soi Cowboy, farther out along the Sukhumvit main drag heading east out of the city.

Once again, not being shy or out of his element, Krit drew into the frame of the door. He didn't unleash himself, but stood there and watched, his presence being marked by warm smiles from both The Major and Cowboy, both of whom he had played with before. The delicate-looking and diminutive Suket Blackmore was too engaged with a monster cock to mark his presence. Unlike The Major and Cowboy, though, Krit wasn't bisexual, so there was nothing but social friendship between him and the Thai beauty.

As he watched, his mind went to fantasizing about this small, Thai beauty taking the massive cocks of the two black hunks either separately or in consort. And then his fantasies were fulfilled.

Not long after Krit arrived, The Major reached down and gently took Suket by the waist and turned her, bent over the bed on her belly. She didn't resist. He brushed the hem of her long, Thai silk skirt up to her waist, revealing she was naked underneath. He towered over her in both height and bulk. Reaching his hands around her and palming her breasts, he entered her cunt in a long, slow slide with his gigantic jet-black cock in a maneuver that would have seemed to be impossible given the relative size of what he had to insert and what she had to receive, but her cunt stretched and took him inside her. Once saddled, he slow pumped her. He reached under her with a hand and worked her clit with his fingers. She placed a hand over his hand and moaned for him.

Krit went into the room and sat in a chair and watched. After a short while, The Major motioned to Cowboy, who approached, holding an equally long and thick jet-black cock, and Cowboy took over the fuck. As The Major withdrew and went to the adjoining bathroom to tidy himself up, Cowboy, outfitted only in his signature ten-gallon hat and finely tooled cowboy boots, turned Suket on the bed onto her back.

He lifted and separated her long, shapely legs, and she sighed as he kissed down her inner thighs to the quick of her. His pink tongue, as thick as many men's cock lapped at her folds and clit, while she slowly undulated under him, worked her tits with her hands, moaned, and whispered, "Chı̀ chı̀ s̄ı̀ kị̀ k̄hxng khuṇ nı c̄hạn khāwbxy. Pheṣ̄ s̄ạmphạnṭh̒ c̄hạn Khuṇ s̄tạ́d dả--Yes, yes, put it in me, Cowboy. Fuck me, you black stud."

She arched her back and gave little yipping sounds, running her hands through the short, kinky black hair of his head, as he gave her clit and cunt close attention with his mouth. Again, the tableau was of a big, black bear hovering over a delicate flower.

"Txn nī̂. Txn nī̂. Cheī̀y xê y!--Now. Now. Fuck me now!" she cried out, clutching at his shoulder blades with her lethally long enameled fingernails, coaxing him up to cover her. It was Suket who grasped the massive erection and put it into position. No longer the delicate flower, she screamed "Cheī̀y xê y--Fuck!" and then "Xụ!--Shit!" as Cowboy, larger than The Major had been, stuffed himself inside her writhing body.

Then he was hunched over her, fucking her cunt with more vigor than The Major had with a cock that more than equaled The Major's and Krit's in length, but surpassed Krit's in girth. Before they climaxed, Krit rose and left the room. He didn't want to be late for the party. And he definitely wanted to meet that blond classmate of Brad Blackmore's.

* * * *

The holding of the Blackmore party to mark the Saigon scenes of the movie The Deer Hunter, being filmed at an abandoned U.S. military commissary on Bangkok's Khlong Toei commercial waterfront in the early summer of 1978, was belated. Burt Blackmore, who had championed the use of Bangkok for the film, had only recently returned to Thailand from a business trip to the States, and before he could celebrate the filming most of the actors and production crew had already moved on. But Blackmore had arranged for his son, Brad, and Brad's classmates at Columbia University, Mathew Morris and Sam Nadler, all three of them having completed their first year in the drama program there, to work on the film in Bangkok for extra college credits. This party was in their honor--and, of course, to highlight Blackmore's own key role in bringing film projects to Thailand. He couldn't let everyone get away before he took a public bow.

Blackmore was a surgeon at the national hospital who operated only on high-profile cases for very rich and well-placed people in Thailand, with an added high-publicity dollop of mercy cases. His real love--or the one he could publicly acknowledge--was the newspaper he published in fact, although nominally, his wife, Suket, published it. A foreigner couldn't own and operate something as important as a major English-language newspaper in Thailand in his own name. In addition to the newspaper, Blackmore publicly supported the arts--fine art, writing, plays, concerts, and films--and covertly delved into the city's hedonist underworld. He owned both female and male fetish brothels for the very wealthy.

The party at the Blackmore mansion that day represented both of Blackmore's worlds.

When the surgeon's son, Brad Blackmore, introduced Matthew Morris and Sam Nadler to Krit Thanawat out on one of the wooden terraces as the party got under way, Matthew had more than the tall, distinguished-looking Chinese man's long cock to think about in an arousing way. His attention went to Krit's exposed right arm, where the tattoo of a green dragon, with red highlights encircled his forearm. The incongruity of such a sensual tattoo against the elegant, traditional dress of the patrician-looking older man both intrigued and aroused Matthew. That Krit focused in on him during the introductions, even though Sam and Brad were standing there also, had an effect on Matthew as well. Krit already had had both his cock and fist in Brad and he wasn't really interested in Sam's body type, but Matthew didn't know that. He only knew that the intriguing, handsome, and confident ethnic Chinese man was showing interest in him--and that Krit had already registered himself as a gay man by exposing himself to Matthew in an upstairs bedroom--with a godawful long cock. Matthew shuddered at the thought of how far up inside him that cock could reach.

Would the man be cruel? He looked so elegant. Would he be rough? Matthew had little doubt he would find out.

Seeing Matthew looking at his tattoo, Krit smiled and said, "Do you like the tattoo? I have a larger one inked elsewhere. Perhaps..." But he went no further. He didn't have to.

A chill ran up Matthew's spine. "Yes, I like it," he answered.

"I understand you go to Columbia University, with Brad," Krit said, speaking directly to Matthew as if his two classmates weren't even there. "You major in drama, I understand. I teach drama at Chiang Mai University. I received my doctorate in drama at Columbia University. There is an affinity between us, it seems. I would like to talk to you about drama... and other matters. Perhaps over our meal here."

"Yes, I would like that," Matthew managed to say. He shivered again. He was looking down upon his own forearm, which Krit was touching and stroking with long, sensuous fingers.

Krit leaned forward and murmured, "I will possess you and perform acts deep inside you that will make you cry. You will become my sex slave. Does that scare you or does make you go hard in anticipation of what we will do together?"

Matthew gulped. So much for the question of whether he would be cruel. He certainly was direct and sure of himself.

"Both... I little... I guess," he managed to say, looking down at the tightening grip Krit was applying to his arm. He felt the pain, but he also felt the arousal.

And then Krit laughed and moved away from them and toward the group of military men, the various interest groups having sectioned themselves off during the cocktail hour, and Krit having common interests with these particular military men, who were in a different vein of combat than armed warfare.

"You want him, don't you?" Brad said to Matthew when Krit had drifted off. Sam was being engaged in conversation by their host, Burt Blackmore, who was working the room, a large man, both in size and in presence, even in a group of arresting personages such as the newspaper baron and surgeon had gathered here.

"He's fascinating," Matthew said.

"He's also as dangerous as that dragon on his arm. The other tattoo he speaks of is also of a dragon. It covers his left pec, and it's mesmerizing."

"You know that because...?" Matthew said.

"You know why I know that. And it's the reason I can tell you to beware of him. He's dangerous and in a more frightful league that either of us are in. Just take my word for it."

Matthew wanted to ask for clarification on that, but Burt Blackmore had reached him and was gripping his arm in the same place Krit had been doing. But the large, boisterous man was evoking entirely different sensations in Matthew. Where Krit's touch had started light and sensual and only moved to the tight when he was baldly talking of sex, Burt's grip was strong from the start, with a beefy hand, and possessive, controlling. Brad had warned Matthew off being alone with his father just as he'd warned Matthew about Krit Thanawat. Matthew got the message that the American newspaper baron was as dangerous as the Chinese-Thai drama professor was.

In his own way, he was just as arousing to Matthew as Krit was. Matthew was in his "try anything" stage of couplings with other men.

A couple drifted into the grouping, who, Matthew had been told, were from the American embassy's cultural center, although he recognized the man from later in the evenings on The Deer Hunter set. He'd been doing some sort of script clean-up overnight, Matthew remembered. His name was Tim Temple and he and Matthew could be brothers, Matthew thought--both blond and blue-eyed, boyish looking, trim builds and slim hips. Both good looking. The woman he was with, Matthew learned, was Tim's boss at the cultural center, Judy Taylor. She looked like a dyke to Matthew.

Matthew was pretty sure Temple was gay. Rumors went around on The Deer Hunter set of the actor, Craig Culver, and him doing the deed in the script editors' trailer at night.

As Matthew and Brad engaged in chitchat with the two from the embassy, Burt turned his attention to Sam Nadler. Matthew was just as glad that the big, somewhat threatening man had redirected his attention. The director of the orphanage Matthew had lived in to the end of high school and before going off to Columbia on a scholarship had been overpowering like this--and demanding. Matthew's eighteenth birthday present from that man was to have his virginity pulled out of him on the man's desk in his office. Matthew had been leaning in that direction but hadn't planned on being deflowered by the director of an orphanage. He had thought of saving himself for a business titan, like Burt Blackmore, or a sensual master of the fuck, which Krit Thanawat had the promise of being.

Burt guided the three young men and the couple from the embassy over to the group of The Deer Hunter production people they'd been working with the last few weeks. The remnants of the actors and production crew were scant. Most had returned to Hollywood or on to their next assignments. Premier among those still in Bangkok and at the party was Deric Washburn, who had written the screenplay and was one of the named producers for the movie. The principal actor there was Vince Burnett, who had supporting role billing in The Deer Hunter, but who, rumor had it, might find his scenes dropped to the cutting room floor because he could be seen in the film footage as older than his role was or that his past status as a heart-throb second-banana justified putting him in the movie. He was older now than when he was a box office draw and was, perhaps, a little pudgier than the camera could adjust for. He was still a handsome man, but not the man he'd been in roles two decades earlier. With him, he'd brought a Thai drama student, Intorn, he'd picked up in Chiang Mai on a recent, U.S. embassy cultural center-sponsored trip he'd made there.

Matthew vaguely recalled having been told that the embassy guy, Tim Temple, had been on that trip as well. When Matthew had first seen Temple, he'd been interested in the man who looked so much like himself, but he'd been told Temple was a submissive, like him, so there hadn't been a reason to pursue that interest.

A couple of the other actors in the movie were there too, including Joe D'Amoto, who had portrayed a macho sergeant in the movie; Gary Jones, cast as a hospital orderly; and Paul Cummings, who played a young soldier. A chief cameraman, the Frenchman, Jacques Boyier, filled out the production people Brad, Matthew, and Sam had served as interns for. All three had served Jacques, who was a foxy, hands-on sort with a swarthy look, sexually as well. They knew that Paul Cummings was a submissive as they were. The jury was out on Joe D'Amoto. He mostly stood around looking combative.

In addition, there were several Thai, including both men and women, there in the group who had worked various aspects of the production and had been engaged temporarily here in Bangkok. They would remain here, hoping that another movie production would come to town. The James Bond film, Man with the Golden Gun, had been filmed in Bangkok four years earlier, with some of these same locals helping with it, but four years was too long between movie productions for them to make a living out of international films. Locally made films were almost universally slapstick, depicting Farangs--Western foreigners--as bumpkins, and were extremely low budget.

The nearby group of military friends of Blackmore's that Krit had joined included The Major and Cowboy, but it also included an U.S. Army lieutenant, Ben Singleton, from JUSMAG, who lived with other single soldiers of the contingent in a compound off Sathorn Road near the Khlong Toei waterfront; Colonel Magnus Amundsen, a Norwegian UN contingent military officer, in Bangkok to protect the interests of various UN offices in the city during the unrest in Southeast Asia; and a Thai Air Force colonel, Samui Timruang, deputy commandant of the Thai Military Academy, the grounds of which adjoined those of the U.S. Embassy on Witthayu Road. It was Samui who organized a Saturday-morning tennis gathering at the military academy courts for Thai generals and young men from various diplomatic organizations who were willing to cap off tennis by being fucked on Saturday afternoon by fit, randy, and demanding Thai generals.

When their hostess, the gorgeous and brilliantly dressed Suket Blackmore, joined the group, her husband started mixing the guests up. He took Sam and the actor Paul Cummings over to the military group. Soon thereafter, Tim Temple also peeled off and went over there and stood very close to The Major. It was evident to anyone who knew gay signaling that they were a couple. That didn't surprise Matthew, who had already been informed that Tim was a submissive, just as he was. There were other visible pairings in the group. Suket Blackmore and Judy Taylor were putting their heads together, Joe D'Amato was putting moves on the Thai drama student Vince Burnett had brought, impressing the young man with tips and secrets on movie making, and Burnett, in turn, was making up to Brad Blackmore. Deric Washburn and the actor Gary Jones were working the local hires, giving final compliments and thanks for the work they'd done on The Deer Hunter production.

Matthew's eyes had followed Temple as the young man moved to the other group and, not being able to help himself, Matthew looked over at Krit in the military group. He shuddered again upon finding that Krit was looking at him, as were all of the others in the military grouping--and they all had "could eat you alive" expressions on their faces. Seeing that Matthew had looked at him and discernibly trembled, Krit smiled, said something to the men on either side of him, and came over to the movie group. As a drama professor, that was a natural change of groups, but when he got there, he gently maneuvered Matthew so that they were standing in front of a pillar overlooking the khlong.

Matthew let out a bit of a gasp when he felt Krit's hand, with its long, sensuous fingers, palm his lower back as he leaned the young man into the pillar with the pressure of Krit's thigh on his. He did what he could to maintain conversations with the others around him while most of his attention now went to that hand and the thigh. Krit obviously could feel the young man trembling. He ran his fingers under Matthew's waistband in back and then, when Matthew made no move to stop him or move away, the hand went lower. Krit had the tip of his index finger running into the young man's buttocks crack and onto Matthew's rim. It didn't just rest there; it pulsed, which was driving the young man wild.