Who knew that the great creator had duplicated the ever-handsome boydoll with the skin of satin? Nevertheless here he was, an uncanny copy being introduced to me. A twin yet, at 18, two years younger than his older brother who has becomes my favourite over the past two years.
Who knew that after a wonderful day at Dongtan Beach, the SatinDoll and his ladyboy lover asked if I would consider letting this virgin of the moneyed life of Pattaya come to my room and “give me an all night massage”? I immediately accepted and foolishly neglected to ask some important questions about the background of this offer. My gawd, this clone had the same looks, the same stance, the same walk, the same speech as the original which all combine to have the same effect on me and as usual normal rational thinking was lost.
Who knew why this SatinDoll II was being offered to me? Later I could think of several reasons. Because he had been visiting for several days from Bangkok and his menial labouring job and the Satin Doll and his ladyboy had some plans that didn’t include the younger brother. It could be because additional money was required to take back to mama. Maybe the boy was tired of sleeping on the hard floor and wanted to enjoy some of the relative luxury of the farang’s apartment. OR….maybe this recent 18 year old was mesmerized and attracted to the perceived excitement and riches of Sin City and the SatinDoll was quite aware that this farang was a caring and gentle man and would be respectful in teaching his brother the unique requirements of a Pattaya money-boy. I must say, the latter played heavily on my mind.
Who knew what would result from the intricate dance that took place in my room after the prepatory snooker games, stroll through Walking Street and Boystown, a drink outside JimJimmyJames and a bite to eat from a noodle cart? In the room the foreplay continued with sodas, looking at trip-pictures collect on the farang’s computer, and a cleansing shower by the farang. With a Thai movie playing on the TV, the farang stripped to his boxer shorts hoping the boy would follow his lead but alas, the pants came off but the t-shirt, boxers and brief remained in place. For the farang, entering the unknown produced an intoxicating effect and he wondered at the thoughts going through the mind of this newbee.
Who knew that the massage turned out to be very professional and lasted almost 2 hours? Never, during the massage did the boy straddle the farang ala the beach massage-boys but he knelt to either side. Whenever the farangs hand came close to the boy he gently caressed the oh-so smooth skin of his masseur – a touch that was never rebelled but never acknowledged. When the massage ended the farang went to the washroom to brush his teeth and prepare his body for any eventuality. On returning to the bedroom, he found the SatinDoll II tucked up tightly with the sheet pulled to his chin. The farang lifted the sheet on his side of the bed and slipped in beside the unknown.
Who knew that in the morning the farang would feel so contented and satisfied? Upon entering the bed; he executed the preliminary move he had planned in the washroom? He mover close to the boy and whispered how great the massage had been and, in appreciation, he wrapped his arms around the boy and gave him a respectful but, hopefully, meaningful hug. The faring discovered his bed-mate had not lost any of his clothing and the hug was answered with only a smile. The hug was released, space was created between the two bodies, conversation was banal and the farang’s mind feverishly began assessing all the signs from the beach to now and he began to see a pattern. Later the faring decide to attempt one last ploy. He rolled and stretched and let his hand softly fall on the, now exposed, t-shirt. Fingers gently caressed the chest and nipples through the cloth hoping on hope to receive a positive response. Even though the boy did not turn away, no encouragement was forthcoming. The farang offered a last hug , sniff-kiss and said goodnight.
Who knows if the farang did the right thing?
Who knows? Lamont Cranston knows.
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