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Writer’s note: This story contains dominance, submission, gay-for-pay, spanking, and humiliation in public places. Just a heads up in case that is not your cup of tea.
At the beginning of my third and final week in Thailand, I decided it was time for us to head to the beach. I booked us a luxury bus to Pattaya, a city about sixty miles south of Bangkok on the Gulf of Thailand.
The bus was air-conditioned and the seats were roomy and comfortable. Prasang and I sat at the back where we could have some privacy.
Prasang was in particularly good spirits as I had just paid him his weekly salary. It was more generous than what most “escorts” in Thailand could hope to make in months and on top of that I had thrown in an extra bonus.
I knew what I was putting him through and he was handling it beautifully. He was playing the part of my 24/7 sex slave with enthusiasm, allowing me to use him however and whenever I wished, subjecting him to partial or even full public nudity as I had done days before at the clothing store with Chakrii and Gamon.
He called me “master” and submitted to my every whim, for which I felt he had earned something extra. A good deal extra, in fact.
Sitting next to me on the bus, he smiled with affection. Once again playing the part of the good boyfriend, he squeezed my hand in his and even leaned in for a tender kiss.
I reached down, rubbing and caressing his cock through his silky sheer shorts: the emerald green ones I loved so much that were all but transparent and revealed everything.
He moaned as his big, thick tool came alive and grew in my hand. He parted his lips and my tongue entered him. Deep and hot. He moaned into me as I teased a brown nipple with my thumb, pinching its hardness.
I had dressed him in one of the loose-fitting tank tops that covered almost none of his impressive, muscled torso. I loved him to be naked. He was born to be naked, to have his body looked at, admired, and used by others.
So I was careful to choose clothes for him that left nothing at all to the imagination. This way I could still fully admire his body when we were out and about, and so could everyone else.
To top it off, I had him wear the spiked dog collar I’d bought at Sexy Guy, tight around his neck like a choker. This was accompanied by matching leather wrist cuffs. Symbols of his servitude and my ownership of him, at least for this period of time.
The ride to Pattaya was around three hours. Once we were out of Bangkok, the scenery became long stretches of tropical vegetation, interspersed with small villages and locals at their labors.
The bus was not crowded at all, there were no more than six other passengers, all seated in the front or middle. Those closest to us, some five rows up, were a couple not so very different from the two of us.
A sharp looking white man in his fifties with white hair and a well kept goatee. The other was a Thai boy, probably around Prasang’s age, though much more slim and petite.
The man had his arm around the boy’s shoulder and they almost looked like father and son. It wasn’t long before the man leaned in and kissed the boy full on the mouth. The boy opened, receiving the man’s tongue into him.
This was not a terribly unusual site. Thailand is very gay-friendly and same-sex couples are ubiquitous throughout. As, for that matter, are attractive, young Thai men and women with foreign tourists, under a similar agreement to the one I had with Prasang. Though ours, of course, was something more particular.
I nudged Prasang and directed his attention to the older white man making out with the Thai boy. Prasang, who had been lost in thought, smiled in acknowledgement.
“I think we can do better than that, don’t you, Prasang?” I said quietly. He looked at me, not understanding. “Pardon, master…? MMF!”
All at once, I assaulted his mouth with an oppressive kiss, lips pressed firmly to his, forcing them open and pushing in my tongue. I felt his body spring to attention beneath me at this sudden invasion. His mostly bare skin erupted in gooseflesh and his nipples stood up hard. He sucked my tongue desperately as I pushed it into his throat, feeling his mouth spasm around it.
All the while, I’d been rubbing and stroking his cock through his silky sheer shorts. I slid my hand down the front, grazing his pubic hair, and seized his full, thick erection. He moaned around my tongue.
With my other hand, I pulled down his shorts and brought his cock out into the open air, feeling it go completely hard as I stroked like a cucumber. Feeling his heartbeat racing within as I squeezed.
When I pulled out of him, panting, we both looked down, both seemingly fascinated by his towering, hard tube steak, naked and unsheathed right there in the open air of the bus.
I slid my clasped hand up to the big, round, purple head, parting the lips with my thumb and squeezing until it turned a shade darker pendik escort bayan and a bead of sticky liquid oozed out. Prasang groaned as I squeezed as much of his juice out as I could and onto my finger.
This was only the beginning. By the end of the journey, I would squeeze everything I could out of that gorgeous, male tool.
I tasted the pre-cum on my fingers, then held it to Prasang so he could lick off the rest. I enjoyed his little grimace of distaste whenever I made him sample his own flavor.
I leaned both of our seats back as far as they would go. The eyes of the older man and his boy had been upon us and I did not want to attract any more attention from the other passengers or the driver.
When I was sure no one was looking and the driver was fully focused on the road, I told Prasang to lift up his arms.
I lifted his tank top up over his head and stuffed it into the netting on the seat in front of him.
He nearly protested when I pulled down his sheer shorts to his ankles, but then swallowed it down in a half-choked gulp.
I unhooked the shorts from his feet along with his cheap flip flops and then my boy was naked, completely and gloriously naked the way I loved him to be, right there in the reclining seat of a luxury tour bus. I admired him, smelled him. I had rubbed massage oils into every inch of his naked body that morning, just as I did every day, and the aroma was sweet and pleasant as a spring flower.
He made another audible gulp as I positioned his hands behind his head. The leather cuffs each had a little circlette and I hooked them together. Prasang could break them easily, but it was just a helpful reminder that he should keep his hands in place.
“Hands stay behind your head at all times, understand?”
“Yes…yes, master.” He swallowed hard against his tight dog collar. His tattooed arms flexed. He looked down at his boner in embarrassment and he was starting to blush.
I got the little bottle of oil out of my pocket and drizzled some onto my hand and onto his big, towering cock. I began to stroke, tenderly, slowly. So slowly as to unnerve him a bit. Up and and down from the very base to the very tip.
We went over a bump in the road which forced my hand down his shaft with a jerk. He gasped and thrust his hips into the sensation, unable to control himself. “Stay still, Prasang,” I said sternly, “Keep your body under control while I use it.”
Prasang took a deep, frustrated breath, closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. I closed mine, as well, taking in what I was feeling. Prasang’s cock felt endless in my grip. I took my time, contemplating its size, its girth, the oily slickness of it. I heard gentle moans escape his lips, aching for stimulation. He breathed deeply to keep control of himself as I enjoyed him.
I squeezed myself down into the canal where his feet rested (it was a very spacious bus) and parted his bare legs. With my hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, I leaned down and went in, closing my mouth around the thick, round head. Licking the piss slit and tasting the salty liquid on my tongue. Prasang’s moans were mostly drowned out by the roar of the bus’s engine, or at least I hoped they were.
The big vehicle went over more bumps in the road, forcing Prasang deeper into my throat. Now it was my turn to gulp and gag. I took him down my throat as far as I could. It was not easy, and every thud in the bumpy road forced him further down. At last, my lips touched the bristle of his pubic hair. My eyes were streaming as I took him all the way down. He pushed himself into me and I choked on the thickness of him.
I pulled out again. With my head swimming and the movement of the bus making me dizzy.
I hoisted myself up between his legs to look out the window. I stroked the big column of Prasang’s dick thoughtfully as I saw we were now in a moderate sized town with a dusty road. Our bus came to a halt and let two people off. Two twenty-something foreign girls got on, chatting in lovely English accents. One was blonde, the other brunette.
The blonde one spied Prasang far in the back, shirtless and reclining with his hands clasped to his dog collar, before joining her friend in the third row. The white-haired man’s head was turned toward the window, though I got the sense he was watching us, admiring Prasang out of the corner of his eye.
“What do you think of them, Prasang?” I said still positioned between his legs. I was a bit hoarse after gagging on him so hard. The bus roared to life once again drowning out our conversation. Prasang looked down at me nervously and swallowed against his collar. He tried pretending he didn’t know what I was talking about, but I was sure he did.
I pumped his oily cock, keeping it tall and hard. I drank in the aroma of his oiled-up body.
“Those two girls at the front…do you like them? It’s okay…you can say.” I always asked Prasang about the kind of maltepe escort girls he liked and he never seemed to want to talk about it, as though it would somehow disappoint me. He didn’t seem to realize the fact that he liked girls was an incredible turn on. That his straight boy cock longed for nothing more than to be inside I tight, young pussy. But instead, I owned it and had full possession of it.
“They are very pretty, sir,” He said quietly, though I thought he was mostly being polite. They were somewhat average looking and I knew Prasang could score much better.
My fist ran up and down the length of his hot, throbbing shaft, more pre-cum oozing out. With my other hand, I kneaded and caressed his hefty, round testicles, two healthy duck eggs.
“Do they make your big, fat Thai cock hard?” I asked devilishly. Prasang flinched as the tip of my thumb probed into the slit of his engorged cockhead. I probed it, digging my nail into it. Prasang face twisted. “OOF, yes…yes, sir.”
“Tell me, Prasang,” I smiled up at him, pressing down into the slit of his cock until the top of my thumb all but disappeared. He looked up at the girls, wincing in discomfort. He swallowed audibly. “They…they make my big, fat Thai cock hard, master…OUCH!” I rewarded him with a playful slap on his balls.
I climbed back up into my own seat next to his. The two girls were chatting to each other and not paying attention. I saw the white-haired man turn his head away suddenly when my eyes fell on him. He could watch, I didn’t mind.
I gestured to some girls out the window as the bus flew past them. Gorgeous Thai girls with bronze skin in high shorts. They would be an excellent match for Prasang. “What do you think of them?” I said, fist pumping his cock. “Tell me.”
Prasang looked a bit miserable, but he knew what I wanted to hear. “They make (GULP) they make my big, fat Thai cock hard, master…”
I pointed to a group of young, foreign men, frat boys laughing it up on a street corner. “And them, Prasang?” I jerked his column of a phallus harder until the wet, frapping sound was audible. Prasang was turning red now, his breaths increasing. He was looking a little bit hot under his spiked dog collar. I positioned my hand under his chin and turned his head so he had to look at them. “Th-th-they, UMF” he stammered as I pumped him, my other hand gripped his big, bouncing balls to keep them still. “They make my big URMF…my big, fat Thai cock hard, master.”
I squeezed his testicles harder. “Again,” I barked into his ear, his eyes were wide at the sensation overload he was feeling, “I didn’t quite hear you.”
“They…OOF they make my big, fat Thai cock hard, master.”
I smiled in satisfaction. “You wouldn’t mind having that nice cherry hole of yours fucked by them, would you? One after the other?”
“No, master,” he choked on his collar as I squeezed his cock. “No, I wouldn’t mind…”
I kept this up for the next twenty minutes, keeping him on edge and abusing his cock and balls. Letting up if I thought he was about to cum. I pointed out people we passed on roads and in villages. Men and women, some of them old. Far from attractive.
I asked him about the man with the white hair, making little effort to disguise his gawking now as his Thai companion was dozing off. I asked him about the other passengers of the bus, about the disgruntled-looking bus driver. Every time, he knew what the correct answer was: “He makes my big, fat Thai cock hard, master.” “She makes my big, fat Thai cock hard, master.” “They make my big, fat Thai cock hard, master.” Again and again I made him say it. Prasang moaned every time the bus went over a bump, thrusting his cock every faster into my grip. The road seemed to be getting bumpier and Prasang’s breathing faster.
I took out my smartphone and held it down below his balls for a selfie. “Smile, Prasang,” I said. I got a nice shot of the three of us together: Me, Prasang, and Prasang’s huge, tall hardon between us.
I held the phone before his eyes, flipping through some of the more erotic pictures from our vacation: Prasang naked on the bed of a hotel room. Prasang jerking himself off to an impressive eruption of cum. Prasang on all fours, spreading his cheeks to show off that irresistible pink hole of his. I showed him picture after picture of his own naked self, showing off his gorgeous specimen of a body again and again. “What do you think of him, Prasang? He is hot isn’t he? I bet you’d like to fuck him, wouldn’t you?” I demanded, hot and horny beyond words.
Prasang’s cock was as hard as marble as I jerked it. He stared bewildered into the pictures of himself. “He makes my big, fat Thai cock hard, master…he makes my big, fat Thai cock hard, master…he makes…ooh, OOOH.” Maybe it was a particularly large speed bump that did it, but Prasang shot.
His milky white stream leapt up into the air, level with his passenger side window, and landed on his kartal escort chest and stomach. Impressive stream after impressive stream shot out, then ran down the dimples of his abs and pooled in his navel. His stomach rose and fell as he gasped for breath.
The white-haired man watched everything intently, licking his lips with hunger at Prasang’s cum face.
I drew a little packet of tissues out of my pocket. “Here, let me clean you up a little.”
I bunched up a tissue and sopped up the cum on his bare torso. Soon it was soggy and dripping with semen like a rum-soaked dumpling. I held it to my tongue and licked. “Mmm,” I said, “Very nice, Prasang…here, have a taste.”
Reluctantly he opened his mouth and held out his tongue, thinking he would merely have to lick it. That was when I shoved it in, the whole jism-soaked tissue, into his mouth. “RMMF,” he protested as I wadded it up into his cheek, right at the back near his teeth where it wouldn’t move.
“Just suck on that,” I said, bunching up another tissue. I mopped up the semen on his gorgeous gleaming torso. Once this one was soaked and dripping, as well, I pushed it into his mouth on the other side. “OOMF,” I saw his look of abject disgust as he tasted the wads of tissue soaked in his own semen. It appeared he wanted to retch.
One more tissue, two more, three more. I scoured his chest and belly and the area in between his legs and cock until each tissue was soaked up with his man juice. I squeezed his big dick, spent and rubbery, turning purple, milking out anything that could possibly be left inside.
I stuffed each wade tissue into his mouth until his cheeks bulged out like that of a squirrel.
“I want you to taste yourself good and deep, Prasang, you like how you taste, don’t you?”
He made a choked “MMF-UMF” sound, as his mouth was too full of waded tissue now to say anything else.
“Here we have to get a selfie, don’t you think?” I squeezed his cheeks between two fingers like a ripe melon and told him to smile. He did the best smile he possibly could, full as his mouth was with jizz rags. For me, the smile came naturally.
Amazingly, I squeezed still more out of the limp beast resting on his belly as Prasang grimaced and groaned in discomfort. I probed my cum-covered fingers into his full mouth, listening to him suck and choke on it.
Just then, I thought of something. “And what about me, Prasang? You never mentioned me. Do I make your big, fat Thai cock hard, too, Prasang?” I asked this innocently enough as he gagged on my finger. He looked at me bewildered, surely wanting to murder me in that moment.
I gave him time to choke it out. One hand choking his flaccid cock, the other groping his balls.
“You maff (GULP, OOF) you maff my biff fath, Thai coff hard, maffer.” He said it as best he could through a mouth stuffed with tissue.
Without releasing his cock and balls, I pressed my lips against his, forcing my violating tongue down him again, past the wads of tissue, plugging him deep. I could taste the cum seeping out of them. I understood his distaste for it.
“MMF-UUGUFF,” he moaned as I penetrated him with my tongue, as I squeezed and squeezed his cock and balls.
“Again, Prasang,” I said when I pulled out. I made him do it again and again. Made him choke the words out through the gross wet tissue. I flipped through more pictures on my phone. Pictures of the two of us together this time. Prasang fully naked, me fully clothed. The two of us making out. Me jerking him off. Probing his hole with a finger, a thumb, with two fingers. Him bent over my knee as I spanked his tight, muscular bubble buns, making them rosy pink. I made him look and made him say it (“You meff OOMPH you meth my biff fath Thai coth harth, maffer”). Each time I plowed his throat with my relentless tongue.
We went on like this for the rest of the journey. In spite of himself, in spite of how much he had cum and how thoroughly I had emptied his balls, by the time we were approaching Pattaya, I had him almost fully erect again. His young, virile body was so sensitive to sexual stimulation that there was little he could do about it.
I insisted that he suck every last bit of cum he could out of the tissues. His mouth was still full as I helped him back into his sheer shorts (though not his tank top) and we exited the bus. He walked ahead of me, carrying all of the three suitcases I had with me.
“Say it again, Prasang,” I demanded as rolled up his tank top in my hands like a towel.
He marched on in front of me with the suitcases. “You meth my bith feth Thai coth harth, mather, OOF!” Using the tank top I whipped his tight, moving buns. Once, twice, three times.
The bus driver gave us an unfriendly look as we stepped down.
I was not terribly surprised to see the older man and his Thai boy waiting for us as we stepped off. “Hey there, would you guys like to…” But I shook my head and steered my shirtless boy away from him. I was happy to let people look at Prasang, but he was all mine.
“Again, Prasang,” I said as we marched on, holding the rolled up tank top to his irresistible buns again.
“You maff my biff fath, Thai coff hard, maffer (SMACK) OOMF.”
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