I gave Prasang the money to pay the receptionist at the front desk. They chatted a bit in Thai and she handed him the key.
My hand caressed his back as they talked. He felt smooth and warm. My drunken excitement was growing. I couldn't keep my eyes off his body, I was anxious to get him alone and strip those clothes off him.
He flashed me that grin, like sunshine breaking through clouds, and took my hand. I had asked him to be my boyfriend tonight and it certainly appeared he was willing to play the part. He guided me down the hall.
The walls of our room were covered in a gaudy, brown stone paneling. The carpet and bedspread were a loud orange, the same color Thai monks wear.
Prasang put down his bag. I waited in the middle of the room. He swaggered over to me smiling and wrapped his strong arms around my waist. His tattoos looked like tiger stripes coming out of his t-shirt. I smiled at him and combed my fingers through his thick, black hair. He held me with those wing-shaped eyes of his, then leaned in and kissed me.
His lips were full and sensuous to the taste. I felt the dazzle in my mouth as when biting into a succulent fruit. A wonderful shudder, then a tingle went through me and down to my cock.
I opened my mouth and accepted his hot tongue. I grew hard as I suckled it. Our tongues slid against each other. I pushed my swelling groin against his.
When I pulled away, he smiled at me doe-eyed. "Beautiful boy," I whispered. I couldn't help myself, he was so attractive it was almost too much. Undoubtedly the sexiest man I'd ever kissed.
I lifted up the bottom of his t-shirt and slid it over his silky, washboard stomach and chest. It came clean off and dropped to the floor.
I ran my hands over his bare shoulders, eager for more of what I'd experienced at Male Body Palace. He had the most fabulously smooth skin. Hairless as he was, there was no friction whatsoever as I ran my hands over his torso.
I cupped his pecs, squeezing them like firm cantaloupes. I flicked my fingertips over his chocolate brown nipples to make them stand out firm.
He looked down, watching my hands explore his body. He smiled with approval, seeming almost as fascinated by his physique as I was.
I lifted up his arms. "Flex for me again, please, Prasang, let me see that muscle man pose."
My cock snaked upward as he pinned me with those glittering black eyes, apparently attempting to make me melt into the floor.
He clenched his fists and flexed them taut, holding his arms in the double biceps pose once again. I squeezed the rock-hard mounds. His pecs bulged, as well, as though served up to me on a platter.
Still squeezing, I leaned in for another savory, hot kiss. This time, the open coil of his mouth accepted my tongue. He held his muscle pose as I familiarized myself with the curves and contours of his body, from his flexing arms to his manly chest and back again.
"Beautiful," I whispered again, my mouth inches from his. "Just beautiful."
"Thank you," he said softly, looking pleased.
"Now I want you to keep these biceps tight, okay?" I said.
Prasang held his pose as I circled around him, brushing his rib cage lightly with my fingertips. I pressed my thumbs into the strong, accentuated lines of his back, into the tattooed figure of the Buddha. "Ahh," he moaned.
I worked my way down with my thumbs, all the way to his stone-washed jeans and the swell of his ass.
I watched him in the big, plate-glass mirror on the opposite wall, eyes closed. His pink mouth formed delicate Os as he took in what he was feeling. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips like a tiger, as though he too enjoyed the taste of them.
I watched myself behind him, a taller, bulkier, pale white guy in a t-shirt and jeans who was definitely not in Prasang's league. Yet, that somehow made it all the more exciting, knowing this amazing male specimen was flexing for me and going to allow me to get him naked enjoy him completely.
I watched us both as my arms circled his waist and found the button of his jeans. His biceps remained tight as I unfastened him and pulled down the zipper.
I watched myself in the glass, rubbing the fabric of those white briefs with the red band he'd been wearing at the club. He cooed, almost completely hard beneath them.
I pulled his pants down over his legs and all at once, he was dressed just as he had been: naked but for the shimmering white speedo that starkly contrasted his brown skin.
I allowed him a moment to sit on the bed to remove his shoes and socks and to liberate his ankles from his jeans. One of his pecs twitched as he undid his laces.
Now his beautiful legs were free, thick and sporty as a hare's. I had never had much interest in men's legs before spending time in Asia. Asian men have the most gorgeous legs, I think because there is virtually no body hair to obscure their shapeliness.
When he strutted toward me again, nearly naked now, he planted his feet shoulder length apart. His toes twitched. His lip peeled back in a cocky, boyish half-grin. To my delight, he resumed his double bicep pose without having to be asked. He was ready and willing to give me the experience I wanted and to play by my rules.
I traced a green-blue vein through his flexing arm. I hooked the finger of my other hand into the red elastic of his briefs.
I pulled back and snapped his undies against his body as we made out. His lips tightened around mine and he chuckled through our kiss.
I pushed his briefs down around his thighs. I did not see, but felt as my fingers combed through coarse pubic hair, then cupped his naked, hanging manhood.
"Ahh," he sighed into me as my hand moved over the petal-smooth skin of his cock.
He was a healthy, athletic young man and his tool reacted immediately.
I stroked him and worked his body. He moaned into my open mouth. His breaths were growing stronger, more frequent. I felt his bare chest swelling against me. Once he was fully erect, I backed away to have a look.
Hard and flexing, Prasang opened his eyes and beamed that beautiful, champion smile at me. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
I starred, spellbound by his hardon. He was big where it counted. About the same size as me, in fact, though not quite as thick.
Prasang's entire body had a tidy, clean look to it and his cock was no exception. It was attractive in a way most men's cocks are not attractive. It looked the way an erect penis really should look, threaded with veins and sporting a big, round ball of a cockhead. Prasang was uncircumcised and the purple tip of his penis was peeking shyly out of its foreskin, tight and shining like a nectarine.
It looked so very suckable.
I, of course, had not removed a single article of clothing. That is not really my thing. I love CMNM and I prefer to strip a man naked while I remain fully clothed. It's not just for the power it gives me, but for the opportunity to focus on and appreciate the other man's body completely.
I stared luridly at Prasang's splendidly nude form, moving my eyes up and down, drinking him in. I gave him a moment to take in this fact. That he was naked and vulnerable before me and flexing like a sex toy.
