Sexual Healing 4

My friend Naphat was driving me around that night in his car, along with his girlfriend. He was kind enough to take me back to the hostel and fetched everything, to dinner and then around the city streets which were dressed in yellow neon light in celebration of the country’s big day. “We don’t take part in those things, honey,” I could hear they make that remark behind those smirky smiles in the rear view mirror upon hearing me mentioning the “Bike for Dads” event.

The roads were all jammed up due to a heavy load of cars and other kinds of transportation flooding from every direction to the center. Connor & Damian always said it was a bad idea to do hostel in Khao San Road (and I usually opposed since I had no problem with excessive partying and wearing slippers) and now I could see why. We were unable to move. It was 11 something and I was dead tired. Lack of sleep I blamed.

“Hey, where are you? I just finished work,” message from Connor popped up on a messaging app called LINE. I swear everybody in BKK use it.


Connor is a guy I met several months ago when he was in my town. We had been exchanging again after a long time of no talking since I had informed him of my coming in advance. Gay, yes. But not really my taste since he is a bit of… bitchy, which reminds me of Richard, and has this violent & aggressive sex fantasies of being repressed and then fought back. Proprioceptive? That’s the weird word I believe DJ Man would use. And not to mention the wholeheartedly passionate use of strange sex toys.

But the things I like about him are very similar to the things I don’t. Since he was a bit submissive & feminine, I like having him under my command. Since he is a bit resistant and catty, it makes things more spicy and unconventional. And yes, he is also smart and pretty good looking too, accompanied by that dark satire. Listening to him making remarks about things that are mundane to politics and so on is like watching a bird that sings non-stop sarcastic tunes. A bitchier & younger version of Richard?


Anyway, I’d been sending him updates about how I couldn’t really sleep at the hospital bench and would love if we could meet up for some drink earlier. “I had cable” was his excuse for not showing up at the gogo club the other night at my request. What was cable? I thought he was drunk.

“Just arrived home. Not far from where you are. Wanna come over?” 

“Yeah we’re still stuck in the traffic. And to be honest, I’m a bit tired.”

“You can spend the night here and go back to the hospital in the morning. And I’ve got whiskey.”

Too much of an offer. I asked Naphat to drive me there, which was indeed very close, somewhere around Phatya Thai area. I had to lie to Naphat that this was the guy from school and now working here in Australian embassy. It was true though, that latter part.

Modestly lied in the back of Soi 14, the house was tremendously spacious. It was very well designed, with green trees growing around the yard where several cars were in place, and a hidden stairway to the left that led to his own place. Woodened floor, glass window, bathroom with transparent glass wall facing directly to the garden, bedroom drenched in dark blue color, just like the shirt Connor was wearing. He told me the whole area was owned by one single family. Richie.

Connor was all dressed up, still, at 1 am, for our showing up and constantly saying sorry for not being able to fix me anything to eat (I did mention my hunger). He laid in front of me 3 bottles of strong liquor and asked me to choose. I told him to do whatever with the whiskey he had. First thing first, I needed to take a shower, with my recently fetched clean clothes, after over a day walking and sweating like a pig under the heat of BKK in daytime and clubbing at nighttime.

“Here’s your towel,” Connor took a peek from the front door. “Woo”, he acted shocked, and then used his hand to cool off the heat from his body upon seeing me showering. “Nice bulge as well.”

I guess it was a joke.

I then went outside to get changed. Connor was rushing with the drink, which involves lemon and something else. Van Helsing, that movie a decade ago or something, was on TV. He kept talking something about politics, how the Thai handles problem, how things should have been different at work, and explained to me what “cable” is in his work context. There were two things that I realized: 1) I did underestimate the wittiness and foul-mouth level of this handsome diva. It was much much crazier than Richard. And 2) He couldn’t really focus on the drinks since his eyes were gazing up and down from time to time to linger on my body. I felt good, and confident too, around him.

“You’re not just a normal teacher, are you,” Connor passed the remark while we were sipping the drink (which was awesome), with examining eyes and a winning smile. Now my confidence earlier was a bit shaken but I kept on staring directly to those eyes that feel like undressing my clumsily erected cover. It’s like he’s trying to say “I’ve got your secret.”  Still, I kept my cool. Being challenged is a thrill, sometimes.

“If you say so,” I responded while switching the drinks, not to make sure that he hadn’t drugged me but to cool off the sexually discharged environment with a joke.

I could feel like I was starting to pass out as the conversation went on. It was supposed to be around 2 am and I couldn’t really keep up with the drink. Sensing that I barely kept myself still, he said I could use the bed, and he would sleep on the couch, which was another nice gesture. I said If I stayed I would sleep on the couch, but I didn’t think I would cuz I would take the cab back to the hospital.

“I just don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of the situation,” Connor said, coming out of nowhere, “you know, it happened to me.”

And then he broke down, a bit, no more the bold and provocative guy. He sobbed on my shoulder, telling me about the time when he’d got locked inside an apartment of a Japanese, not allowed to get out until he had sex with the guy. I didn’t know what else to do rather than pat him in the back. I told him about that one time my parent’s co-worker touched me in my room when I was still in my teens, trying to understand my body and orientation. He looked up at my with that eyes. I wondered if it was sympathy or connection? That’s when the kiss came.

Next thing I knew was he was slurping on my dick and I was rubbing his head with my hand. Passionate cock sucker as he had always been, Connor kept on moving up and down while hands slowly reaching upwards to my neck, and then gagging me. He gave me a slap. I hit him in an immediate response. He spit on my mouth.

I stopped with eyes threatening. He stopped. Looking up at me, he was waiting cautiously for my next move since the next move would decide how the night would go.

“Slap me.”

I decided to let the lustful part of me thrive. I hit him again. And again. And he got so turned on that he kept on transcending all of the thrust to my cock. It was so violent but it was so good.

He let go of my body a little bit to go grab something but immediately I stopped him. I knew he was going for the sex toy since I knew how he liked it. I grabbed him by the head, dragged back to his position and this time, holding his head still and started fucking his skull at a growingly rapid pace. He gagged, but I didn’t stop. His saliva went every on my cock and stomach. But I just kept on going.


I tried to open my eye lids. They were as heavy as rock. The darkness was all around. I was lying with him on the black bed sheet, naked, with a wet towel on my stomach. I remembered cumming. And I remembered Connor taking small sips on it, one by one, before I passed out.


All of my body wanted to stay. But it was like falling off a cliff. I was left with shame and guilt, thinking about FJ still in the hospital. And I know whatever I say will just be another hypocritical excuse. I excused Connor and grabbed my stuff. He told me to wait and got me a cab.


I went back to the hospital couch and gave him a hug before falling back again to sleep. Maybe I was too tired to bother thinking. Maybe I felt like this is the time to explode all of the sexual repression for the past days in such a gay city. Maybe it was Connor whose multi-faceted personality and mood swing satisfied and excited my hunger at the same time. Or maybe it was just me, as I’ve always been, a promiscuous and horny to go being, like the 7/11 chain in town, always open, always making itself available.


This entry was published on December 23, 2015 at 5:03 pm. It’s filed under Connor and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: