Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

Chumphon had been at the Kauea Kennels for nearly three weeks before he observed something that made his heart race. His new job was great even though this island wasn't anything like the Thailand upcountry he came from. He had little trouble with the language, as Mr. Crozier had made him improve the English he'd taken in school. Mr. Crozier certainly wasn't going to bother to learn Thai. But otherwise Chumphon felt completely out of place. The terrain was so different—not that he'd traveled enough to feel this was an island. He'd been to the beaches of Phataya, and the beach at Tauranga was much the same even if the buildings and foliage were different.

But the people were very much different. All of them Farangs, like Mr. Crozier, if friendlier and less demanding than Mr. Crozier. But Chumphon guessed he was the Farang here, not them.

Mr. Kauea was overwhelming, although he certainly was friendly. He was even bigger than Mr. Crozier was and not quite the Farang that Mr. Crozier was—or that his older friend, Mr. Morris was. But he was different in a disturbing way. Not exactly disturbing. More the same feelings that came over Chumphon when Mr. Crozier called Chumphon to his house. Mr. Kauea didn't talk to Chumphon the same way he talked to other people when they were around. And there was something in that like how Mr. Crozier had talked differently to Chumphon than he did to other workers on the tapioca plantation. And Mr. Kauea touched Chumphon when he was talking to him—just like Mr. Crozier had.

Mr. Kauea was a little darker than the other Farangs here. And of larger stature. Something that seemed closer to New Zealand's own sense of wildness and primitive instincts. Something more of the island's history than people like Mr. Morris was, who spoke almost an entirely different language than Mr. Kauea did, even though they were both speaking a form of English and seemed readily able to understand each other—well, most of the time, and certainly better than Chumphon, with his rudimentary English, could understand either one of them.

When Chumphon could take his mind—and, often, his fantasies—away from Mr. Kauea, they turned to what occupied most of his days and evenings—the dogs. In these terms, Chumphon could only say he was delighted in the change in his life. He had loved his German Shepherds, but they had been trained to be guard dogs and thus were something to carefully fear and respect as well as to love. The spaniels Mr. Kauea owned, on the other hand, were bundles of happiness and slobbering love. There were other dogs at the kennel from time to time, owned by other people in the region who were leaving them while they traveled, but it was Mr. Kauea's spaniels alone that made Chumphon's new life a delight.

The only downside to this life was that Chumphon missed the attention that Mr. Crozier had given him—more than he ever imagined he would. Mr. Crozier hadn't courted him in any way. He had just told Chumphon what he wanted when Chumphon came to work on the tapioca plantation. Few Thai living upcountry had a choice in where or whether they would work. It was a privilege just to have work. Mr. Crozier had just taken from Chumphon what he wanted. Chumphon had wondered about this, but Lek had told him that Mr. Crozier had done the same with her—that all Farangs in the upcountry just took what they wanted from Thai people, and that this was the way of the upcountry. Chumphon had not even thought of objecting or resisting. And now Chumphon was surprised at how much he'd come to want it.

Which brought his mind back to the hulking Mr. Kauea he now worked for.

Chumphon had little expectation that he could receive the same attention from Mr. Kauea that he had from Mr. Crozier until that day he went to the house at the kennel to report that one of the spaniels seemed to be limping. As he passed the side of the house, he heard noises from inside and spied them through the open window. The older man, Mr. Morris, was leaning over a bed on his elbows and Mr. Kauea was fucking Mr. Morris from behind—like a dog, like the muscular, overpowering German Shepherds Chumphon had seen breeding at the kennel in Thailand. Both men were naked.

Both were large-boned as Mr. Crozier had been and were not as sun-kissed dark skinned on their upper thighs and groins as they were elsewhere. Chumphon had found this strange and intriguing—and, yes, a bit arousing. Thai people were dark all over. They didn't have their manhood and their buttocks emphasized by whiter skin around it.

The young Thai stood, mesmerized, by the size and power of the New Zealander and by the sounds of pained passion coming from the older man, as he bent over the bed, legs spread, fists digging into the bedding, and tongue hanging out on a face with eyes glazed over in ecstasy.

Mr. Kauea was the largest-built man down there Chumphon had ever seen, and it seemed impossible that Mr. Morris could take it all as it repeatedly withdrew and then thrust back inside, sending Mr. Morris' body to shuddering and jerking. But take it Mr. Morris did. And from the older man's reactions while he was taking it, Chumphon decided that he wanted it too. The thought of his own slight body taking it frightened Chumphon. He remembered how long it had taken him to sheath Mr. Crozier's staff without constant pain fighting with the pleasure, and Mr. Kauea was much larger than Mr. Crozier. But still Chumphon wanted it. And he had adjusted to the size of Mr. Crozier. In time he could adjust to the size of Mr. Kauea too, he was confident.

That evening, he came to Mr. Kauea as he had come to Mr. Crozier, silently, on bare feet, and only with a cotton sarong wrapped around his waist.

Mr. Kauea was sitting on the side of his bed, dressed only in sleeping shorts. His body was magnificent, muscular, bronze-skinned, and with primitive native tattooing that made Chumphon's heart race with the image of coming to him to perform some primordial rite.

The massive New Zealander looked up to see Chumphon standing in the doorway in the dim light. If he was surprised, he showed no evidence of it. Indeed, he reacted as if their coupling was inevitable. Later, when they spoke of what they had done, how Mr. Kauea had used Chumphon's body repeatedly, Mr. Kauea had said that if Chumphon had not come to him, he would have come for Chumphon. He had asked Chumphon if that would have made the young Thai angry or unwilling, Chumphon had not been able to understand what he was asking. Mr. Kauea was his employer; Chumphon would give him anything he wanted.

As he had stood in the door, neither man spoke, but heavy breathing could be heard from both sides of the room. Chumphon worried the knot of the sarong at his waist and it fell to the floor in folds. His erection told David all he would need to know of Chumphon's want and intention. His berry-brown body was perfectly formed, paling in size, though, to that of the New Zealander. David's breath came even heavier as he thought of the massiveness of his cock working the passageway of such a small, perfectly formed man. It was his fetish. A man couldn't do anything about the fetishes he had.

The New Zealander lifted his hips off the surface of the bed enough to slide his sleeping shorts off.

It was Chumphon's turn to gasp and take great gulps of air—Chumphon's turn for his channel to twitch at the expectation of that big, erect club possessing him fully. If anything, it was more massive than Chumphon had believed it to be when it was poking Mr. Morris' hole. He began to tremble and to moan softly.

David extended a hand and said the only words expressed in the room for the next hour. "Come to me, if you will. Don't, if you are afraid. It is your choice. It may not be possible, but I want to try. If it's not possible, though, I'm not sure you can remain here. The temptation is too much."

Chumphon was very much afraid. Mr. Crozier would not have given him a choice; he would have just made Chumphon take it. And from what Mr. Kauea was saying, it wasn't really a choice here either. He would lose his job. But in this case, Chumphon himself wanted it too much for there to be but one choice. This new world Chumphon had moved into was so much more arousing than Thailand and the tapioca plantation had been.

The young Thai cried out in pain and ecstasy as he bent over the bed and Mr. Kauea covered him from behind and slowly worked his thick, long cock inside Chumphon's slowly yielding channel. Mr. Crozier had opened him up, but there was so much more work to be done to accommodate Mr. Kauea.

There was a time when each believed Chumphon's passage just could not accommodate the size of the cock, but both worked hard at it with grunts and groans, both wanting it. And then, miracle of miracles, Chumphon felt his passage relaxing and stretching, and the shaft was sliding up inside him. He cried out so loudly in the effort that howls went up from the kennels behind the house. Neither of the men cared. The music of the dogs lent atmosphere to the primordial rite of taking and receiving. Being primitively fucked like a dog, as, fully saddled, David started his plowing in earnest.

The fuck became wild, David thrusting hard, deep, rapidly, but daring not to pull more than half way out of the channel for fear it would close again. But the young Thai wanted the deep possession, a connection he had never experienced with Mr. Crozier. At the height of passion, Davie buried a fist in Chumphon's thick, black hair and arched the young man's back, pulling his head up to David's bulging pecs, as he thrust, thrust, thrust.

Chumphon came with a great cry, and the rhythm of the fuck changed, became slower, slid deeper, withdrew further before gliding back in. Chumphon's passage had been reamed to David's specifications and he would never have the trouble saddling the young Thai again that he had initially. Three further takings that night would establish the fit forever.

David wrapped an arm around Chumphon's waist and rose up, away from the bed. The exhausted, but moaning and sighing body of Chumphon hung limply, bent over, buttocks nestled into David's groin, feet off the floor and arms and legs dangling in front of him, as the strong, virile New Zealander continued to fuck him in long slides until, with a weak yip sound Chumphon came again, his cum dribbling down his thighs.

Only then, with a great Maori warrior cry, did Kauea release his seed in three prodigious bursts, the cry setting the dogs in the kennel to howling once more.

Chumphon slept in David's bed that night and every night afterward, fully content in this new life of his, growing accustomed to the gentle touch of the young Maori's fingers in the night that coaxed Chumphon to rise on all fours to be fucked again like a dog. Chumphon never once thought of denying the other man's pleasure—his pleasure as well.