Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

Ricky didn't get the promised nap and barely had time to shower and wrap the Thai silk sarong around his loins that he'd been told was the chosen dinner attire that evening before he had to leave for the evening meal. The young woman attendant, who had been introduced to him as Lek, had to guide him back to the main pavilions, because he'd left Chumphon lying on his back on the bed, legs spread open, moaning, but also wearing a silly grin on his face.

"I will be late in returning, I think, but I will expect you to be here when I return," Rodriguez said to Chumphon before leaving the room. Just inside the door to the corridor, he leaned down, picked up his camera bag, and settled the strap on his shoulder. His camera equipment was his life. He left it nowhere. His attachment to his equipment didn't extend to bringing it into the pavilion where the dinner was being served on a low teak table surrounded by pillows for the guests to recline on, however. There was a long couch, also spread with Thai silk pillows, against the only permanent wall of the pavilion. The other three sides were covered in colorful silk drapes now tied back to the thick teak tree-trunk pillars holding the roof up. Rodriguez pushed his camera case under a chair near the entrance into the pavilion and entered, to find that it would be just the three of them dining.

Douglas and Krit already were at the table, sitting close to each other. It didn't take much imagination for Rodriguez to discern that they'd had sex with each other before coming to the dining area. Krit confirmed as much in a surreptitious glance of confirmation at Rodriguez as the photographer entered the pavilion.

Both Douglas and Krit were wearing only sarong skirts, and Rodriguez' eyes narrowed with a flash of worthy competition when he was reminded how muscular and perfectly defined Douglas' chest was. He was a powerfully built man with the long arms that had served him well in reaching for acute-angle volleys in tennis matches.

Rodriguez could tell, as he knelt at the table across from the other two, that his presence here wouldn't be welcome for long after the meal was served.

The meal took nearly an hour, as course after course was brought in by a succession of beautiful young Thai men, all giving Douglas a look that told Rodriguez that Douglas fucked them all.

So it was confirmed as true, Rodriguez thought. Douglas lived here for the access to young Oriental males. His masters had guessed correctly—even to the extent of bringing the small, half-Thai Krit on board to do the interviews.

Throughout the meal Douglas and Krit remained close to each other, with Douglas feeding a morsel to Krit now and then and letting his fingers linger on Krit's full lips.

Not long after the mango and sticky rice was served, the conversation, such as there was, having been within the bounds of information Krit could use in the Tennis Talk article, Rodriguez cleared his throat and said, "I think I'd best turn in early. I will take photos of the compound tomorrow in the morning light, if you don't mind."

"That sounds fine to me," Douglas said. "I hope your accommodations are satisfactory. I thought you might enjoy the privacy of the guest house."

"Yes, it is quite satisfactory," Rodriguez answered. But what he thought was, you can't fool me. You have housed me as far away from the main house as you could so that you could have your go at Krit without my interference.

But then Douglas surprised him by letting him know there was little subterfuge going on at all.

"I hope you will take it a bit easy with Chumphon tonight. I understand you have nearly worn him out and Krit and I could hear echoes of his taking from here while I was fucking Krit. Don't look so surprised, Mr. Rodriguez. That's another reason I choose to live in Thailand. There are no sexual taboos here. We can be very open about our sexual preferences and desires—as I'm sure you've already learned with Chumphon."

Somewhat nonplused, Rodriguez answered something, but even he could not have told what he said. He did hope, though that Krit was remember the quote so that they would use it for photo captions.

"But I'm glad you are enjoying yourself," Douglas continued. "Krit tells me that you are quite the expert cocksman, so I'm sure Chumphon is enjoying servicing you. I just request that, if you start taking your photos early in the morning, you wait to come into the main house until Krit and I have appeared for breakfast. I plan on wearing Krit's sweet little ass out myself tonight."

Rodriguez nearly slunk out of the room, with face downcast and not knowing what to say. Douglas obviously felt totally in command in this environment.

As he left, the young Thai serving men were untying the drapes on the three open sides of the pavilion and letting them close together to give Douglas and Krit privacy. They followed Rodriguez out of the now-enclosed pavilion and, when he hesitated to pull his camera case out from underneath the chair beyond the now-closed curtains, they continued on, carrying the remnants of the meal and chattering happily to each other in Thai.

Rodriguez didn't go back to his room immediately, though. He lingered there, taking both a still and a small video camera out of his case and checking lens settings. It had been no accident or even distrust of the servants that had led him to bringing his cameras to dinner.

One aspect of their assignment was completed now—or would be when he'd taken the photos around the compound tomorrow morning. But it wasn't just for a Tennis Talk article that he and Krit had come all the way to Bangkok—or that Krit had been chosen to come with Rodriguez for.

He waited until he heard Krit begin to moan and groan, and then he started walking around the draped area of the pavilion, on the decking that extended beyond those curtained walls, and peeked in partings of the drapes here and there, looking for good camera angles.

He cursed under his breath. Every angle he could see was blocked by the low teak table. Still, he knew that Douglas was fucking Krit on the pillows behind the low table. They were reclining right where they had been seated, with Douglas on top of Krit. The sarongs were gone. Krit, on his back, had one leg raised up Douglas' torso and his small ankle hooked on Douglas' shoulder. Douglas' plump, yet firm, naked buttocks were rising above the edge of the table and descending again in the rhythm of a vigorous fuck.

Rodriguez managed to fire off some interesting shots, but none that could be identified independently as being of Dent Douglas. Get him to move from there, Rodriguez was screaming in his mind.

As if he'd heard his photographer's demands, Krit struggled up to his knees and mumbled what must have been a request to move to the couch.

When the two men had moved there, Rodriguez got all of the photography he could possibly have wanted. Douglas sitting on the sofa, with Krit facing him and riding his cock. Krit belly down across the sofa, his buttocks raised to Douglas, as the sandy-haired tennis player performed stiff-armed pushups above him, plowing the smaller man's channel with deep thrusts. Douglas sitting again on the sofa, with Krit skewered on his cock, facing away from Douglas, his chest cantilevered out over the teak floor boards and his arms stretched back and held at the wrists by Douglas' strong hands. Krit kneeling at Douglas' feet, half turned away from him, nuzzling Douglas' hard, throbbing cock to his cheek as Douglas ejaculated in great gobs of white cum.

Perfect, Rodriguez thought, as he put his cameras back in his case and stealthily moved down the staircase to the ground and hence down the path in the dense jungle garden toward his own next tryst with Chumphon. This was what they'd come for, more than the Tennis Talk article. The Sports Outings Web site would pay far more for these photos than the tennis magazine would for an article on Dent Douglas' unusual decision to train from Bangkok.