The Saturday morning impromptu tennis matches at the Royal Thai Military Academy on the corner of Wireless and Rama IV Roads in Bangkok, Thailand, were about sport, exercise, and networking. But they also were about sex and spying. The informal gathering on six courts on the academy grounds, hosting by a bevy of Thai Army colonels who ran the academy, were basically for the military guys in the foreign--
farang
to the Thai--diplomatic missions based in the Thai capital and not just that, but, specifically, a subset of these men who had a fetish for body sculpting and for driving young men.
I wasn't military, but, at twenty-five, I was a young man who would lay under men, I worked in the American Embassy, and I was a near-pro tennis player. I also, unknown to most of the men in the Saturday morning group, was a spy of sorts. I was early to the game. I wasn't charged with figuring out what information meant. My job was to gather it for others to assess and, if called upon, to function as a honey trap--to suborn men or women sexually to open them up to espionage blackmail.
The common understanding was that one could not be gay and work in U.S. intelligence at the same time--that if it were found that you were gay, you automatically would be drummed out of the service as a security risk. You could easily be blackmailed to inform foreign services on your own organization, or so the common wisdom went. I found that wasn't necessarily the case. Sometimes you were recruited even if you were gay--or precisely because you were gay--by your intelligence service to use that themselves. You couldn't be blackmailed for being gay if your own service not only knew you were but also was using that for its own purposes. People thinking this never could happen were ignoring the power of the world's two oldest professions--prostitute and spy--being brought together to produce results.
Ostensibly, my first-tour job in the U.S. foreign service was as a visa clerk in the U.S. consulate at the American Embassy in Bangkok, which was just up the street on Wireless Road from the Royal Thai Military Academy complex. In reality, I was a young intelligence officer in Bangkok Station, the CIA office in the American Embassy, assigned to Bangkok because it was a wild and crazy, sexually open city with a large foreign diplomatic and military community. Diplomats and military men from around the world who had a fetish for other men wrangled tours of duty in Bangkok.
Americans were no different. JUSMAG--the Joint U.S. Military Advisory Group--which had been set up in Bangkok as the war in Vietnam was winding down to aid Thailand in preventing falling to the communists as Cambodia already had and Vietnam was about to, was almost completely composed of American military men who worshipped both their own bodies and those of other men. This was one of those billets where the Army sent officers they knew or suspected to be gay but who were too well connected or too valuable to U.S. military interests to drum out of the service.
I hadn't been in Thailand for more than a couple of weeks before the commander of JUSMAG, a black major, nosed me out, no doubt with help from the CIA station, and seduced me and made me his. He was a regular member of the Saturday tennis gathering at the Royal Thai Military Academy and, despite my not being military or anyone of importance in that network, introduced me into the group. I was an immediate hit there not only because I was a very good tennis player but also because I was attractive to men and I would let them cover me.
It became known in the Saturday group that I craved having a man's cock inside me and that, after tennis on Saturday, I would generally go with any of the other players whose turn it was with me. I did prefer fit men. They didn't have to be handsome, but I preferred that they had great bodies. That wasn't a problem with the Saturday morning tennis group. You had to be fit to manage to play vigorous tennis for two or three hours under the Bangkok morning sun. The Station encouraged the activity, because the gathering was a rich vein of foreign military and diplomatic information to mine.
The military men knew who I worked for and it became a "thing" for them to lure me to go with them after tennis by giving me a tidbit or two of intelligence to take back to the Station. So, Saturday became not only an exercise and sport day for me but a work day as well.
Sometimes the arrangement had been made who I would leave tennis with, but sometimes I went to the Saturday morning gatherings just for the general play and to see how opportunities would unfold. The organizer, Colonel Samat, who was a handsome, tall, muscular Thai with strong Chinese ancestry, which many in the city of Bangkok had, had taken a fancy to me. There were more dominant men in the group than submissives, so I was in constant demand. I also was young and blond Westerner, which were a premium in Bangkok. But Samat always had to be given his due and made happy, so more often than not I found myself on my back on the desk or sofa in his office at the academy taking his cock. But sometimes I went to the tennis gatherings with a mission. Such was the case on this specific Saturday.
Turkey was playing both sides on the cold war divide--the cold war still being in full swing in the mid-1970s of my "Saturday tennis at the Royal Thai Military Academy" years. The United States had bases there and counted Turkey as a close ally. But intelligence was in that Turkey was permitting the Soviets to build a satellite tracking base in the mountains overlooking the Black Sea. Just what satellites would the Soviets be tracking from there--and why--U.S. intelligence wondered. The United States had coveted putting a tracking base here itself to monitor the Soviet Union and had been turned down by the Turks. That only sharpened U.S. interest in what the Soviets were doing there.
Not all intelligence gathering on another country need be done in that country.
Erol Erdegon was a military attaché at the Turkish embassy in Bangkok. He was a bit more than forty, solidly built, with a heavily hirsute and muscular body. His face was so ugly in a thuggish way that he was, in fact, attractive to young men who wanted to be dominated--and not just dominated; young men in the mood to be manhandled. I was a young man who wanted to be dominated--and occasionally manhandled as well and to suffer a bit--so I didn't shy away from men like Erdegon. That was a good thing, because my brief was to make him think he was seducing me and to find out what he knew about the satellite tracking station the Soviets were building in his country while letting him think I wanted to ride his cock so badly that I would give him a rundown of who really did what in the CIA Station at the Bangkok embassy. He wouldn't expect a consular affairs clerk to know much about that, but maybe something. The station, in turn, didn't mind him knowing more than just a little, because they wanted to recruit and run him. When someone from the Station approached him directly to work for us, via blackmail, if necessary, we wanted him to realize the contact was by the Station.
The temperature was over 100 Fahrenheit on an early October day. This was the tropics: hot and steamy. The men were hot and steamy too, playing bare-chested, all proud of their well-developed, constantly honed military-bearing, now sweat-glistening bodies. It was a two litre-bottles of Coke day in replacing fluids in our hard-worked, bronze-tanned, sweat-shimmering bodies. Given the interest of these men, as much effort was spent in admiring and being aroused by the bodies across the net from them as in the tennis. Although the tennis was good too. These men were athletes.
Without exception, the men choosing to be here on a Saturday morning were actively gay. Colonel Samat, who coordinated the Saturday morning tennis, made sure of that. Even those pushing seventy were in top form, both in terms of physical fitness and sexuality. If they hadn't been, they wouldn't have been invited to Saturday tennis. One or two did have trouble getting hard at their age, but even those knew how to work another man's body to achieve sexual satisfaction. This also was a hedonist city; pills to provide effective help were readily available here. Many were the times that an old Thai general would stand over me, pop a few pills, and, within minutes, could get off while getting me off even without getting completely hard and inside me. There was no embarrassment to driving to an ejaculation in Bangkok in any way you could.
There were three dominants to every submissive on the court this morning, so I had no trouble whatsoever in attracting attention and suitors.
Most knew of Colonel Samat's proprietary interest in me and kept their attention at the admiration level. Erdegon was new to the group. He wasn't on warning about Samat's claim, and I didn't want him to be. I maneuvered to be across the net from him in doubles. Then I arranged to be his partner, coming close to him during consultations on how to handle the next point, letting him touch me, and he was a very hands-on man. It was obvious he wanted to touch me even more intimately than was being accorded. I was purposely teasing him.
