roughjock

Brief.

PP Day One: Checked in to my hotel. Opened Grindr and Hornet. Hornet had a few men but I realized most were visitors from Thailand. Grindr I didn't have the same response as I did last year. Much less interest. It's the same story as last year. Everyone is using fake photos. If you are interested and show it, you might be surprised to receive a photo of an older, out of shape man. Drug use has also skyrocketted? Why is everyone asking if I want to inject? I don't recall this from last year. Anyway, I take a gamble and invite a guy over. He's short, very thin, good size dick, uncut. He's a top. He comes over, the sex is okay, but what's nice is that he spends the night. Not only that, he holds me so incredibly close I feel like we might become one. Tangled legs, held hand, everything I need. I invite him over tomorrow and he says he will spend all 4 days with me. (Spoiler: He does not, he gets too busy with his work and we cannot meet again.) Free Sex #1.

PP Day Two: I meet with a friend and we have a few drinks which leads to a threesome with his boyfriend. His boyfriend is quite muscular, 6 inches, uncut, great at sucking dick, and I ride him bareback. The sex is good, but short. Free Sex #2.

PP Day Three: I meet a local friend who I met last year for lunch and to watch Kun Khmer. The fight lasts the advertised 2 hours. It's fun. We go back to my hotel and have sex. It's short, and okay. We decide to go out to the bar that night. We visit Space. He leaves after a few drinks. I sit with the boyfriend of the owner who is friendly and ensures shots keep coming. I meet another local there, who doesn't work at the bar, but turns out to be a moneyboy. I'm promised he's great in bed and well hung. I pay for our drinks and we go to Heart of Darkness. We stay for one drink, it's not very busy, and decide to go home. We ride on his motorcycle to my hotel. The sex is mechanical, he doesn't kiss, he doesn't suck. His dick IS big, but I'm already disappointed. He asks for $50. I'm annoyed. He sleeps over, but I wish he would leave. He jerks me off in the morning and goes to work. He says he will be back, and asks for a gift. I'm beyond annoyed. I play along, getting him to leave without causing a scene, and then tell him that the way he escalated the price and asked for a gift ensured I won't message him again. I tell him that I have no problem financially supporting him within reason, but too bad, you pushed too far and too fast. Sucks to be you! Free Sex #3, Paid Sex #1

PP Day Four: I have a nice staycation inside, and don't meet anybody. The hotel I am staying in tonight does not allow guests anyway (Plantation- best hotel in PP for my money, maybe close is Baitong...) Sexless Day #1
SR Day One: I arrive by bus to Siem Reap. I go on Grindr and find that everyone is a bottom, aged between 18-22, and seeking EXTRADORINARY amounts of financial compensation. Many proudly say in their bio "please take care of me for life." The gull, I think... but they must have an audience. I see a few potential muscular guys that offer massage for between $20-$50 but none are my type. I go to sleep. THANK GOD, as I find out that my hotel charges a $300 USD fee for visitors and will even CALL THE POLICE!!! Bullet dodged. Sexless Day #2

SR Day Two: I go to MEN at night as I cannot have guests. 80% Khmer, 20% tourist. Maybe 20 guys. I am immediately approached by every Khmer bottom. I fuck a few despite not really preferring to top. I watch a massive Khmer guy workout in the gym as I sit by the pool during a break. I wonder if he's staff? Can I pay? He's the most beautiful thing I've seen. He works out, finishes, then GOES INTO THE SAUNA! Hallelujah I think. No. He stands in the corner of the steam room, barely visible, and doesn't want to be touched by anyone. What is he looking for? Odd. I leave for the night after playing with 6 guys. I don't cum. Free Sex #4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9.

SR Day Three: I check-in to my hotel and one of the guys I talked to on Grindr is part of the staff. Awkward. He appologizes and says sorry for not meeting me for drinks and dinner as I offered, he isn't in the mood for sex. I tell him he's clearly a bottom and I don't want sex, I'm looking for a local friend, but he doesn't owe me an explanation. He messages me later on Grindr hoping I have a good stay. From here on out, he greets me and chats with me every time I leave my room. I don't like the attention. Guests are also not allowed here. Great. Sexless Day #3.

SR Day Four: I walk to Sanmai Spa as it has great reviews. It's next to a gay bar in an alley. It takes a while to find it. When I do, I decide against the massage. Two boys are sitting out front and they have to be the most unappealing men I've ever seen in my life. Scowls, acne from head to toe, what's going on? Sexless Day #4.

KEY TAKEAWAY:
- phone theft is still huge in PP, be aware
- drug use with needles is becoming more and more common
- PP you can make friends with locals and get free sex
- SR is all sugarbaby twinks, don't expect free sex as a tourist from apps
- Khmer men really don't understand that you can't charge money when you're ugly... I appreciate the confidence tho...
- Hotels rarely allow guests if its upscale, and many specifically prohibit LOCALS
- breakfast buffets at hotels in SR are NEVER worth it, my god they are awful, even at 5-star properties
- SR is walkable in a day, it's so small
- Arthur and Paul and MEN are both VERY mediocre saunas, but its nice they exist
- Space Bar continues to be the best gay host bar I've ever been to; the prices are cheap, the men friendly and hot, the owner socialable, and nobody rips you off
- standard paid sex is between $20-$50
- If you want to be friends with locals, go to PP
 

Filipino men are cut, poorly.
Thai men are uncut, usually.

Filipino men are on average, thicker and shorter in penis size.
Thai men are on average, thinner and longer in penis size.

Filipino men tend to have a bit of chubbiness, even when fit.
Thai men then to be thinner, even when fit.

Filipino men don't have as many tattoos.
Thai men typically have a few.

Filipino men will manipulate and lie to you, but they believe they are being honest. Delusion.
Thai men will manipulate and lie to you, but they are well aware of what they are doing. Tactic.

Filipino men are ashamed to be filipino.
Thai men are proud to be thai.

Filipino men fall in love before you even meet them.
Thai men fall in love after you fuck them.

Filipino men will rarely ask for money, being around a white person is enough for them because they value whiteness and mediocrity over anything else. Thanks colonization.
Thai men don't see white people as anything other than what they are, tourists.

Filipino men will fight tooth and nail to convince you that PH is the best country on the planet, all the while claiming to be "mixed."
Thai men don't give a shit what you think, Thailand is already great.
Filipino men will stretch the truth on everything, and romanticize even the most trivial things.
Thai men don't care to impress you, they are more curious.

I could go on for years. They are nothing alike.

Filipino men are cut, poorly.
Thai men are uncut, usually.

Filipino men are on average, thicker and shorter in penis size.
Thai men are on average, thinner and longer in penis size.

Filipino men tend to have a bit of chubbiness, even when fit.
Thai men then to be thinner, even when fit.

Filipino men don't have as many tattoos.
Thai men typically have a few.

Filipino men will manipulate and lie to you, but they believe they are being honest. Delusion.
Thai men will manipulate and lie to you, but they are well aware of what they are doing. Tactic.

Filipino men are ashamed to be filipino.
Thai men are proud to be thai.

Filipino men fall in love before you even meet them.
Thai men fall in love after you fuck them.

Filipino men will rarely ask for money, being around a white person is enough for them because they value whiteness and mediocrity over anything else. Thanks colonization.
Thai men don't see white people as anything other than what they are, tourists.

Filipino men will fight tooth and nail to convince you that PH is the best country on the planet, all the while claiming to be "mixed."
Thai men don't give a shit what you think, Thailand is already great.
Filipino men will stretch the truth on everything, and romanticize even the most trivial things.
Thai men don't care to impress you, they are more curious.

I could go on for years. They are nothing alike.

Filipino men are cut, poorly.
Thai men are uncut, usually.

Filipino men are on average, thicker and shorter in penis size.
Thai men are on average, thinner and longer in penis size.

Filipino men tend to have a bit of chubbiness, even when fit.
Thai men then to be thinner, even when fit.

Filipino men don't have as many tattoos.
Thai men typically have a few.

Filipino men will manipulate and lie to you, but they believe they are being honest. Delusion.
Thai men will manipulate and lie to you, but they are well aware of what they are doing. Tactic.

Filipino men are ashamed to be filipino.
Thai men are proud to be thai.

Filipino men fall in love before you even meet them.
Thai men fall in love after you fuck them.

Filipino men will rarely ask for money, being around a white person is enough for them because they value whiteness and mediocrity over anything else. Thanks colonization.
Thai men don't see white people as anything other than what they are, tourists.

Filipino men will fight tooth and nail to convince you that PH is the best country on the planet, all the while claiming to be "mixed."
Thai men don't give a shit what you think, Thailand is already great.
Filipino men will stretch the truth on everything, and romanticize even the most trivial things.
Thai men don't care to impress you, they are more curious.

I could go on for years. They are nothing alike.

I’d recommend against this. I am not familiar with the area, but I have an ex who is Thai. He was a freelancer as a child in this area. I’m talking under 18. He walked me through his daily routine when we first arrived in Bangkok years ago. Life is not easy for freelancers. They have no protection. And the clients who shop this area are not good people. I don’t know what you’re trying to find, but look elsewhere. 

I’d recommend against this. I am not familiar with the area, but I have an ex who is Thai. He was a freelancer as a child in this area. I’m talking under 18. He walked me through his daily routine when we first arrived in Bangkok years ago. Life is not easy for freelancers. They have no protection. And the clients who shop this area are not good people. I don’t know what you’re trying to find, but look elsewhere. 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

Just another quick trip report. One day in Pattaya. Only had time to explore Boyztown.
Got a drink at Castro, drag performances and some boy lipsyncing performances, nothing wild. Packed bar, the busiest on the street. Many female customers. Beer 180 thb and cocktails 250 thb if I remember correctly. Some cute boys but nothing sexy about the show. Most fully clothed- actually, maybe even all were clothed? There was a break in the show around 11 and we slip out.
Panorama, came here before in 2019. I remember the hosts being very friendly, sit with you, talk to you… this time they were just at the front table chatting with each other. I even made eyes at one, and he grabbed my arm when we left, but he made no attempt to approach the table with me and my friend. Two cocktails were just over 500 THB. It was an okay people watching spot.
Boyz Boyz Boyz. 350 THB per drink. No cocktails. Drag performances, big cock show, then all boys on stage fully clothed? Big cock show was nice. One had a massive tool, chubby body. Tipped 100 thb to feel it. I’d love to off this guy, even with the extra pounds. 
 
What I noticed; cheaper than Bangkok in terms of boys and drinks. Shows and boys not as high caliber as Bangkok. Things seem to be over by 1? Tried to find another show and failed. 
 
We did attempt to take a taxi to Jomtien but the wait at 10pm on a Sunday was 30+ minutes.

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

I’d recommend against this. I am not familiar with the area, but I have an ex who is Thai. He was a freelancer as a child in this area. I’m talking under 18. He walked me through his daily routine when we first arrived in Bangkok years ago. Life is not easy for freelancers. They have no protection. And the clients who shop this area are not good people. I don’t know what you’re trying to find, but look elsewhere. 

Yeah, I’ve read the other trip report. I think we have different expectations so that is where the disconnect came from. That poster seems to prefer a chunkier body type, slightly older, and I think I’m just finding myself no longer interested in that market. I also think at my age and with the experience I’ve had, it’s a lot harder to ignore little tiny things that could be improved that would create such a better environment, and I see a lot of these things just go unnoticed or uncared about in so many venues, especially in ones like Atlas that have been several bars beforehand, these are things that you need to fix if you want your business to stay around, but the people in charge don’t seem to see that themselves.
Oh wow, there are so many other bars, and muscles are vogue, twinks are out, so options are plentiful. 
 
I got to print shortly after they opened and explored the area a little bit to kill some time. It’s actually not a far walk from Silom, you could easily walk from your hotel in Silom to the Prince area in about 20 minutes.
Prince is the same as it always has been. When you walk in, all of the available masseuses will be standing behind a glass wall, many shirtless, or removing articles of clothing to show off, flexing, and becoming flirtatious to get your attention. At this point, you pick your masseuse, they will typically ask if you want a top or a bottom and they will direct you as to who performs each, in my case I’m always looking for a top and they said that anyone can accommodate. I asked the clerk who had the largest penis, but he said he could not comment on that, so as Tan Nu my regular is not here and hasn’t been available in such a long time, I guess I will try another masseuse. I look around the bodies, and I try and pick the body with the most muscle that appeals to me, and I settle on a masseuse whose face is definitely not up to par with his body, but has a sweet and gentle look to him.
For some reason, I opt for the 90 minute oil massage. We go to the room, he speaks some English, but isn’t very talkative, we shower separately and then I lay on the table. I am still waiting for the day where a masseuse showers alongside me? I don’t think it has happened yet. The massage starts with me face down and I’d say the skill was about a four out of 10. It definitely wasn’t the worst massage I’ve had, and as I was laying on the table, I did have the thought of. Is this a real massage parlour or a sex place? Even though obviously I know the answer. The massage went on for quite a while. I’d say at least one hour before any kind of flirting or touching occurred at all. I can’t help but to crave laying on my back during these massages so I could at least admire the beautiful body of the masseuse, as is my head is faced down, staring at darkness while someone briefly fingers my body, OK that came out a little bit wrong but you get the idea and it’s not really that satisfying. 
 
So just before the massage ends, I’m starting to get a little bit bored to be honest with you but luckily things start to get a little bit better. I flipp on my back so I’m down face up. The masseuse is fully naked, which I kind of gleaned from the fact that I could feel his penis brush against my back while I was laying down, which I really enjoyed. Now that I see his manhood, it is quite a bit smaller than I’m used to. He asks if I’m a top or a bottom, I say bottom, and I feel like most people probably hire him to be the bottom. He does perform OK as a top but you can tell that it’s not really him. He seems more gentle and passive than I prefer in a guy. I don’t really feel much from the sex, so I tell him to stop and flex his muscles while I finish myself off. We shower separately again and say goodbye. Tip 2000, very reasonable for Prince.
 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

Yeah, I’ve read the other trip report. I think we have different expectations so that is where the disconnect came from. That poster seems to prefer a chunkier body type, slightly older, and I think I’m just finding myself no longer interested in that market. I also think at my age and with the experience I’ve had, it’s a lot harder to ignore little tiny things that could be improved that would create such a better environment, and I see a lot of these things just go unnoticed or uncared about in so many venues, especially in ones like Atlas that have been several bars beforehand, these are things that you need to fix if you want your business to stay around, but the people in charge don’t seem to see that themselves.
Oh wow, there are so many other bars, and muscles are vogue, twinks are out, so options are plentiful. 
 
I got to print shortly after they opened and explored the area a little bit to kill some time. It’s actually not a far walk from Silom, you could easily walk from your hotel in Silom to the Prince area in about 20 minutes.
Prince is the same as it always has been. When you walk in, all of the available masseuses will be standing behind a glass wall, many shirtless, or removing articles of clothing to show off, flexing, and becoming flirtatious to get your attention. At this point, you pick your masseuse, they will typically ask if you want a top or a bottom and they will direct you as to who performs each, in my case I’m always looking for a top and they said that anyone can accommodate. I asked the clerk who had the largest penis, but he said he could not comment on that, so as Tan Nu my regular is not here and hasn’t been available in such a long time, I guess I will try another masseuse. I look around the bodies, and I try and pick the body with the most muscle that appeals to me, and I settle on a masseuse whose face is definitely not up to par with his body, but has a sweet and gentle look to him.
For some reason, I opt for the 90 minute oil massage. We go to the room, he speaks some English, but isn’t very talkative, we shower separately and then I lay on the table. I am still waiting for the day where a masseuse showers alongside me? I don’t think it has happened yet. The massage starts with me face down and I’d say the skill was about a four out of 10. It definitely wasn’t the worst massage I’ve had, and as I was laying on the table, I did have the thought of. Is this a real massage parlour or a sex place? Even though obviously I know the answer. The massage went on for quite a while. I’d say at least one hour before any kind of flirting or touching occurred at all. I can’t help but to crave laying on my back during these massages so I could at least admire the beautiful body of the masseuse, as is my head is faced down, staring at darkness while someone briefly fingers my body, OK that came out a little bit wrong but you get the idea and it’s not really that satisfying. 
 
So just before the massage ends, I’m starting to get a little bit bored to be honest with you but luckily things start to get a little bit better. I flipp on my back so I’m down face up. The masseuse is fully naked, which I kind of gleaned from the fact that I could feel his penis brush against my back while I was laying down, which I really enjoyed. Now that I see his manhood, it is quite a bit smaller than I’m used to. He asks if I’m a top or a bottom, I say bottom, and I feel like most people probably hire him to be the bottom. He does perform OK as a top but you can tell that it’s not really him. He seems more gentle and passive than I prefer in a guy. I don’t really feel much from the sex, so I tell him to stop and flex his muscles while I finish myself off. We shower separately again and say goodbye. Tip 2000, very reasonable for Prince.
 

I’d recommend against this. I am not familiar with the area, but I have an ex who is Thai. He was a freelancer as a child in this area. I’m talking under 18. He walked me through his daily routine when we first arrived in Bangkok years ago. Life is not easy for freelancers. They have no protection. And the clients who shop this area are not good people. I don’t know what you’re trying to find, but look elsewhere. 

I’d recommend against this. I am not familiar with the area, but I have an ex who is Thai. He was a freelancer as a child in this area. I’m talking under 18. He walked me through his daily routine when we first arrived in Bangkok years ago. Life is not easy for freelancers. They have no protection. And the clients who shop this area are not good people. I don’t know what you’re trying to find, but look elsewhere. 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

Planning to be in Bangkok for Songkran, last minute plans had me on a road trip through Chon Buri and Rayong instead.
I was glad to have escaped the insane crowds of perfectly sculpted Chinese muscle gods glistening in sweat and targeted sprays from water guns, aimed at their tight white shorts with nothing underneath. I returned to our beloved city of sin, Krung Thep Maha Nakhon Amon Rattanakosin Mahinthara Ayutthaya Mahadilok Phop Noppharat Ratchathani Burirom Udomratchaniwet Mahasathan Amon Piman Awatan Sathit Sakkathattiya Witsanukam Prasit, only to see the crowds dramatically reduced. And hotel rates cut in half. Ah, bliss.
i quickly decided to check out Atlas since there is one particular performer from The One and even formerly from Tawan I believe, who I quite like. He’s older, shorter, Thai but gives a mixed vibe almost as if Latino- confirmed, he’s not. Unfortunately he’s not there. The bar is actually quite slow. It’s me and one other table for a while until a few more tables trickle in. Not a great vibe, but the show goes on, and is somewhat enjoyable. None of the guys are my type, even though the mamasan (a very femme, short lil’ dolled up queen) is pushing me towards a young looking boy from Myanmar who she guarantees has a massive tool, wrist thick. Having never been with a boy from Myanmar, and his face being somewhat cute in a ferret type of way, and his pecs quite juicy but soft and undefined. Not an awful prospect, but no.
There’s one guy who looks Polynesian who has an amazing body, but he sits apart from the rest of the guys and doesn’t engage in eye contact. I was hoping to feel his bicep in exchange for a tip, but he seems disinterested. 
 
A guy on stage is very eager, and making motions toward me and trying to act comedic. He’s older, lean, muscular, okay bulge. He’s always nice to me and I never tip or buy him a drink, and today I reflected on that as he’s one of the few performers who tries to increase the vibe.
I pay for my drink (vodka coke) which is 500 THB, leave a 100 THB tip and offered 100 THB during the show to feel someone’s erection. I leave, feeling mixed but not disappointed. Atlas has been better before, a mere month prior. It must be a bad day.
I get pulled across the street which I always find to be a confusing mess of bars. I end up in what I assume is Fresh Boys. It’s up some stairs, above what I believe is Good Boys formerly Screw Boys? Please correct me. The entire layout is confusing to my poor stupid little brain. And more to that- what shows on this soi are the best? As of posting, I have one day left- please, share the best!
Honestly I’m STUNNED at the lineup here. Immediately I see 17 and 23- both have big ears, lean and entirely ripped bodies with bulging pecs, biceps and impossible thin waists and torsos. The porportions on both are exactly my type. The mamasan here is a a bit pushy, but in a light and funny way. She’s got a bit of a charm. She invites 17 over: I don’t buy him a drink, but I give him a tip, and she nods for him to sit with me. I ask him some questions and find out he’s straight and from Vietnam and I immediately remember my last bar boy experience with a Vietnamese guy which was just blatant ripping off at every corner. I go cold. Ah- okay, not this one.
He sits with me for a moment and then leaves. There is a big cock show and 23 is the first on stage. I need him. I motion to him to come for a drink afterward. During the parade where the boys allow you to touch (and the announcer says suck!) I tip him 100 THB and confirm I’m buying him a drink. He sits with me. English is not the best but not bad. He’s from Vietnam. Oh no. Are you straight? Yes. I’m fine with that. I get a sense he’s more honest than the last, but I’m so skeptical.
In the end, the prospect of being next to this guy in bed is too much to resist as he’s almost flawlessly my type. And lo and behold; nearly every guy on stage is acceptable to a degree. They hit my specific audience I guess. The best bar lineup yet? 
 
After some back and forth, asking about the pricing, and ensuring there’s no ridiculous restrictions or extra charges for simple things, I agree to off him.
400 THB for my drink (vodka coke), 400 THB for his drink, and 500 THB for the off fee. 1300 THB to the bar. As discussed, 2500 THB to the boy at the hotel. I was honestly surprised it wasn’t 3000 THB!
He changes and we walk to my hotel. It’s The Quarter Silom which is a great rate during this downtime, at 40 USD. I watch him shower through the frosted glass and then he lays on the bed and turns on straight porn on his phone. I softly lick his nipples which are perky on his bouncy pecs, impressively so for his small frame. He moans whether fake or not, and I work my tongue down his tongue, sucking gently on the crevice where his legs meets his crotch. I place each testicle in my mouth and dance my tongue around them, then lick up the shaft and swallow his cock whole.
It’s impressive in its size at around 17cm and slides down a throat with ease. I pull him into my throat again and again by sucking gently, and swirl my tongue while doing so. He pulls my head deeper until he’s fully inside my throat, and I create suction and wiggle my tongue in place. I love sucking him, watching his chiseled abs clench while my hand is behind on his back, above his arched ass.
This boys body is absolutely perfect. I’m allowing myself every desire that arises in savouring it. I ask him to fuck me, he places a condom on his rock hard cock, and directs me to the edge of the bed. He slams his cock into my with professional ease, and immediately starts at a rhythm that has my prostate pulsing. Wow. This guy can’t be more than 22 and has a skill like this? I can’t hold it for long and I cum hands free, blowing a load all over my chest after just a few minutes of him slamming my hole.
He immediately gets off, removes the condom and showers. So straight, I think to myself. I give him the 2500 thb as agreed and I look for a 500 to tip him with and only have 1000’s. I take a handful of small bills and think to give it to him, but feel it may be insulting, so hesitate.
He sees this in my hand and looks down and seems sad to not receive it, and leaves.
I vow to return to the bar and tip him properly, as not only did he not rip me off, he provided a good service and that would be rewarded in this type of industry as it’s sorely missing.
 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.
 

Ahahaha, sorry folks, I thought I made a mention of it, but I was using dictation for that post and it was... awful. I apologize. I wish you were able to edit posts after the fact.

Anyway, here's a better trip report to make up for it. 

I got into the habit of "bar-hoping" from show-to-show and found it rather expensive in the long run. I'd start the night at ATLAS or Jupiter or Moonlight, and switch to Banana, or Good Boys or take a risk on a new venue. Rather than grab my usual Smirnoff Ice drinks from 7-11 with 90 calories per bottle, I opted for a can of Singha Lemon Soda and a small bottle of raspberry-flavoured vodka. Two glasses in my hotel room while getting ready, and I was off to Freshboys, knowing exactly what I wanted.
The bar was mildly crowded around 11:00 PM, with a mix of male and female customers. I was sat at the back on the right side of the bar with a good view of the stage and room next to me if I happened to want to invite a boy for a drink. I took a survey, knowing my target. I didn't see that mischievous little face on the stage, that devilishly sharp, ear-to-ear smile, nearly as big as his ears (a personal attraction of mine.) I took a glance at a few other boys and noticed that my second option wasn't here either. Hm. 

The best thing about Freshboys is that while there is some variety amoung the boys, a large percentage of them fall within my type. The night is not ruined. The mamasan, while usually quite eager to get me to sit with a boy, doesn't approach me at all. She's more interested in finalizing a deal with between an older Korean gentleman and his pick of the night, a boy with looks straight out of the Korean beauty-standard rulesheet. I watch the boy and how he interacts with the customer. Very professional. Very polite and courteous. Never on his phone, and when he's needed by the bar, seemed genuinely apologetic about having to leave the table and his 'date.' This is good bar boy etiquette and it seems like this customer made a great choice.
Then all of a sudden, things go quiet. The lights go out. The mamasan announces, "special show, special show, no cameras!" and the announcer blares a pre-recorded "this is a special show put on by the bar..."; you know something extra naughty is about to happen. 
The stage is only lit in a foggy glow, and there he is- #23. His head is tilted in the air, gazing upwards, a look of ecstasy on his adorable face. The white shorts are replaced with thin, sheer white pants that seem to hover delicately atop his silky skin. He moves effortlessly across the stage, feeling the music, moving erotically alongside the beat, running his hands across his pecs which seem to want to explode out of his slender frame. His fingertips dance across each individual ab, the indirect lighting sending shadows across every crevice of sinew and muscle. What an impossibly perfect body. What an impossibly handsome face. And a performance that he takes pride in, a genuine desire to want to perform well. The boy I came here for, but without a number.

It must mean he's unavailable. I've come too late. I try and get the mamasan's attention, but she is now knee-deep in socializing with a drag performer sat near the stage. The next performance is the infamous "gong-dong" show. The boys are inpatient with the mamasan too, as the conversation has now gotten so involved, she's missing her "Neung, Song, Sam!" countdown before the bar is filled with the steel echo of a bruised cock. 

Eventually she casually shoots me a glance and asks me which boy I'm interested in, and I point to #23, but I say "I don't think he's available." Now, I see him sitting with two male customers on the other side of the room. So they've moved faster than I have, shit. The mamasan looks at me, walks over to the other side of the bar, and sits down with these aforementioned clients. A few minutes later, she returns to me, and says "He's coming home with you." and walks away, back to her conversations and what I can only imagine is the hottest tea, being spilt freely. 
A few minutes pass, and he's sitting next to me. He looks me in the eye and his sparkle in return, like a silent acknowledgement that he recognizes me. The genuine playfulness, like a fox in a hen house, an effortless charm. I wonder if he's aware of his popularity? Does he know what he has? Surely one day he'll wake up and realize the power that looks like these, a physique like this, and a personality like his can unlock. Untapped potential, but that's Bangkok, and part of the danger of the machine. 
I just want to be near him. The mamasan asks if I'd like to stay for the rest of the show, and normally I would, but I can think of nothing more than laying my head on his chest in my bed. He quickly changes, I settle the bill (1300 THB: 400 for my drink, 400 for his, and the 500 off-fee. The other damage included 300 in tips for the big cock show boys, 100 for the boy for sitting with me, and 100 for the mamasan for an actual total of 1800 THB.)
Before leaving, I used Google Translate into Vietnamese to specify what I was looking for. I wanted him to spend a few hours, no more than 3, with me. I wanted to give him a massage, cuddle, and then proceed with light fun, but I was more interested in his silent company. He speaks some english but not well. He's Vietnamese and knows Thai. Most of the time we used our phones to converse, but I wanted to tell him that I didn't mind the silence. Just his warmth next to me was beyond comforting. 
When we arrived at the hotel, we both had a drink, he chose an iced honey lemon green tea- you know the brand. We showered separately, and I enjoyed the view of his silhouette in the frosted glass window pane my hotel room features for the shower. The Quarter Silom is a fantastic hook-up hotel, and cheaper than the usual Raya and Meridien. Just saying- but popular more with a 24-32 crowd.
He was playful immediately out of the shower and that grin kept creeping out at just the right times to send my heart fluttering. I admired his physique slowly. I ran my fingers, just as he had done with his own on stage, across his abs, across his pecs, and down near his belly button. I kissed softly at the lines pointing down toward his manhood, and traced my tongue through his shaved pubes.
Now knelt in front of him, I looked up to see him starring down at me, his manhood erect and twitching, as I lightly flicked the tip of my tongue across the folds in his foreskin, now slightly peeled back. I tasted the sweetness on his head, and savoured the taste of this forbidden fruit.
He guided me to bed, where he grabbed me in his arms and pulled me deep into his chest. My head was pressed against both pecs and I inhaled only his scent. He ran his hand on my hand in a comforting way, and let out a deep breath, sinking further into the bed. I felt safe. I moved my cheek side to side, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. I listened to the flow of his blood, every soft sound this body emitted. 
Slowly but surely things progressed into more oral followed by penetration. While I was not in the mood for penetrative sex, it happened naturally and I was hypnotized by the rhythm in which he moved, each stroke, his hips thrashing against my own body in fervent motion. With his low bodyfat, when tensed, his muscularity becomes more intensified. I had a front row seat to his glistening body, now beading with sweat. 

As he slammed into me, deeper and deeper, I could feel him growing even harder inside. He grabbed my chin and I opened my eyes, he smiled again, and flexed both of his biceps while still maintaining the speed of his own movement. Watching him do this, cockily, playfully, knowing exactly what would turn me on, and knowing when to do it sent me over the edge. I released a sizable load all over his own chest. He joked around, shocked, pointing at it with his mouth agape. So adorable, even now. He wiped the cum down his abs before cleaning it off with a tissue. He was briefly glazed, but I'll be forever infatuated.