Ethan was already belly up to the urinal in the men’s room at the Hoyt and Maclaren forty-eighth floor corporate offices in Manhattan when I came in, saddled up to the urinal next to his, unzipped myself, and started to piss. He was still there, drawn back a half step, dong still out, and on display if I wanted to take a look at it—and I did take a look at it, whether I consciously wanted to or not. Consequently, I took the half step back when I was finished, did a quarter turn toward him, and let him take a look too. I gave a little smile when the young intern rewarded me with a low gasp.
We’d been working up to this for more than a week.
“You’re one hung man, Mr. Carlyle,” he murmured. “I’ll bet that fills out to eight inches or more.”
“A bit more,” I answered, cupping it and giving it a few pulls. It started to harden right up. I’d had my eye on eighteen-year-old, yellow-blond, surfer boy summer intern Ethan Mitchell since he had arrived here, and I knew he’d had his eye on me too. And not just me. He was an ambitious little bastard. I knew he was angling for a permanent part-time job when he started college at Colombia and then something full time later. He’d already inquired about whether the firm had an MBA support plan. It did for its permanent employees.
The Intern had his own ideas of how to move up. Somehow, he’d discovered that the firm was staid and conservative on the surface but more than a little bit gay below the surface. He’d come into his internship with advertisements of his availability. He had a diamond ear stud, which is more than the senior and junior partners would declare, and he wore tight dress shirts that clearly delineated the bars in his nipples. He wiggled his ass as he moved. He was going to make it into the firm in the time-honored way—on his back, with his legs spread. I didn’t begrudge him that, though. I had made it to the junior partner ranks by covering one of the senior partners—and, although I no longer like to talk about it, by laying on my back for another one.
“You know I’d be happy to take care of that for you,” he said, reaching out and touching my cock. I took my hand away from my shaft and leaned my crotch into his hand. He took the hint, grasping my shaft and taking over the slow pump. He was getting hard too, so at least he was honest about his sexual interest. I thought it was about time myself to take him for a ride.
“Take you for drinks and dinner tonight?” I asked. “And are you doing anything for the night?”
“What did you have in mind?” he asked coyly. I could do without the coyness. He didn’t have to be effeminate for me. I liked my young men to be men. And I liked them to be young, perfectly formed, small, and submissive—too young for the States, but not for where I often traveled, Germany, Austria, and Italy. He was young and perfectly formed, but he didn’t quite do it on small and I wouldn’t have any idea about submissive until and unless we were in bed and I was on top of him. I just needed him to lay down, on his back or belly, open his legs, spread his cheeks for me, and submissively take whatever I gave him.
“I have in mind banging the shit out of you, if you’re game and want me to put in a good word with personnel on a job beyond the summer.” I saw no reason to beat around the bush
“I can be free after work, certainly,” he said. “But I don’t want to wait. Let’s do it now. I have the keys to a storage room nearby.”
We both heard the bang as the door to the men’s room opened. I barely had time to turn back to the urinal and Ethan to stuff his shaft away, zip up, and turn to a sink. “The door’s marked 4809. Twenty minutes,” he whispered to me as Richard Wright approached the urinals.
“Chaz,” Wright said to me.
“Rick,” I answered back with a nod while I was zipping up.
“Ethan,” Richard said to the sexy blond eighteen-year-old. Richard was forty-five. Hell, I was only twenty-eight, and Richard had a wife, three kids, a dog, and two cats. But the warmth of his voice when he addressed Ethan and the look he gave the kid told me that if Ethan couldn’t use me to get taken on permanently beyond September, Richard would be happy to do it in exchange for favors. He was better placed to do it. He was in logistics. I was in the European operations. So, I didn’t have to worry about that. I’d spike the kid anyway. I’d still have some fun with him.
As I was leaving the men’s room, Richard had unzipped and leaned into a urinal. He was looking around at Ethan, though, who was unzipping again too, fishing himself out even before saddling up to the urinal next to Richard, no doubt to flash his goods, and was at least pretending he’d just come in to the men’s room and hadn’t taken his piss yet. Richard wasn’t watching what he was doing; his gaze was plastered to Ethan, looking down into Ethan’s urinal.
I wondered if Ethan would be where he’d told me to be in twenty minutes—if he’d get something on with Richard that would take more than twenty minutes. But he was there, when I entered the dark storage room. He was standing behind the door as I entered, and he locked the door as I moved into the back of the room behind a tall island of boxes. There was a window in the door, but it was dark in the room and I found a place where we’d be hidden from sight from the corridor. Ethan came around between me and a tiled wall. We embraced and kissed. He already had his trousers and briefs off and, as he sank to his knees in front of the me and took my cock in his mouth, he pulled my trousers and briefs down my legs. I stepped out of them.
I fucked him up against the wall, his knees hooked on my hips and his arms wrapped around my neck. He claimed I was too big for him, but, disappointedly, I slid right in and up him. I wanted to be too big for the small guy I was fucking. Ethan was both larger of stature and looser of channel than I liked. But I fucked him anyway.
And I fucked him that night in my apartment anyway as well. He claimed I was killing him then too, but I knew the difference between loose and so tight I had to fight to get in and the little guy under me was writhing and screaming bloody murder. That’s what hardened me up to well over eight thick inches. He did like one of my specialties, though, and while I was doing that to him in a missionary, we achieved a well-oiled-machine fuck level. I had a technique in a missionary to grab the guy under his knees on either side and to spread his legs wide when I thrust up into him and bring his knees together as I withdrew—and, as he adjusted to the cadence of that, to reverse the cycle, bring his knees together as I spiked him and spreading his legs as I withdrew. The little guys loved that, especially when I was thrust deep with my thick cock as I was bringing their knees together and narrowing their passage.
I could tell that Ethan loved that too. He was gasping and writhing under me. He could pretend about a lot of things but not about when he was getting fucked really, really good. When I was done, he just lay there so long, arms and legs flung wide, hole gaping open, breathing heavy with a silly grin on his face that I had time to reharden and I fucked him again while he was vulnerable and defenseless.
He obviously hadn’t gotten too much. He wanted to book me for three times a week, and I said that would be OK for now. I didn’t have any other regular bottoms on my schedule at the moment. I just wished he met my fetishes better. I liked them small enough that I could lift their feet off the floor and suspend them in front of me as I pounded them—and that they were so tight that they squealed like pigs when I got it all in them. And young. Unfortunately, in the states, eighteen was as young as they could get without being trouble. When I really would like to get them would be before they’d fully developed into men and were soft and spongy at the core and supple and ripe. Fourteen was the desirable age for me, and there were countries in the world that accommodated my fetish. I’d had an opportunity to have it that way, for a particular reason, and I think that had spoiled me.
I played Ethan for two weeks, and I think I exhausted him. Luckily, two weeks later something came up that pulled me out of the picture for a while. The senior-most senior partner, Bill Hoyt, asked me to stay back after a morning management meeting was over.
“Come up here and sit by me, Chaz,” he said. “I’d rather we weren’t overheard.”
We put our heads close together. We were leaning in so close I almost had the sensation that he might kiss me. But we were both tops, and we both knew the other one was, so I didn’t think that was going to happen. Hoyt hadn’t known, I don’t think, how I’d willingly gone both ways to establish position here seven years earlier.
Now, if it had been Steve Parnell, one of the other senior partners ... But I’d already had my innings with Steve; that’s why I had a seat at the management meeting, and, no doubt, the legend-by-rumor of that was the foundation for why someone like Ethan believed he could move up the ladder here in bed. What it did mean, though, was that I was a member of the inner circle in this company.
I had some idea of the nature of why Hoyt wanted to talk to me so privately, although it took him a bit to get to the point.
“I think you noticed that Aaron Knight wasn’t at the meeting today, Chaz.”
“Yes, I noticed,” I said. My mind was racing. Aaron wasn’t part of the inner circle, but he otherwise was on the same level as I was. Surely, he hadn’t been bounced. But, if so, I couldn’t be brought in on his position because we were the same level. But maybe he was bounced and I was being bounced too.
I shouldn’t have let my mind race so far ahead.
“Aaron’s sick, Chaz. He’s had a heart episode. He was going out to East Asia next week on an inspection tour—one that had sensitive elements, and we were prepared to bring him into the inner circle to accomplish that work. We need you to take the trip for him.”
“Me? I have Europe, Bill. I know shit about East Asia.” At least I wasn’t being fired. But I did, in fact. know nada about the East Asia operations.
“The inspection trip is to Hainan Island.”
“Hainan Island? What sort of country is that? I’ve never heard jack about it. What interests do we have there?”
“Our interests there are diversified. It’s not a country. It’s an island province of China. In the south. The tropics. What we have there now are rubber plantations, iron ore extraction, and harvesting of teak and sandalwood trees. Those are quite valuable commodities—the exotic lumber, in particular.”
“But I know shit about any of that. Who is out there?”
“Ted Marks. I think you know him.”
“Yeah, I know Ted. A bit ... wild.”
“Like you sometimes, Chaz. He’s good with figures and management, though. Everything will be in order. You don’t need to look too closely at those operations. What you need to do is to look at a new business opportunity Ted is pushing. We need someone to look at that and tell us whether we should think it’s as good a proposition as Ted thinks it is. Someone who would know that side of our business. Someone like you. We don’t have many on that side of the business.”
“What is it, Bill? What’s Ted’s proposition?”
“It’s like what you set up for us in Germany—in Berlin, Munich, Frankfurt, and Hamburg. And also, on the sly, in Amsterdam.”
“Ted wants to set up a male brothel on this Hainan Island?”
“Yes, but not just any brothel. It’s a tropical island. The Chinese are devoting it to beach tourism. They’re building resorts. There’s a beach town down there that Ted says is screaming for the services of special male brothels. Men are coming into the island looking for something that’s not available there yet. No one else has thought of putting them in. He says the provincial honchos are amenable.”
“BDSM brothels?” I asked. That wasn’t really my think.
“Essentially age. Boys, at the fourteen-year-old level.”
That’s something I’d done for the company in Germany and the Netherlands—added male brothels to our holdings. They were about the most profitable assets we had, if, of course, hidden in the accounting. And it’s why I knew what I wanted in sex partners—very young fourteen-year-olds of small stature who were totally submissive and tight channeled. Germany’s age of consent for sex is fourteen, and it’s very lenient about prostitution. The Netherlands is even more lenient in reality than in fact, although legally the age was set at sixteen. Other countries in my bailiwick were set at fourteen, though, including Austria, Italy, the Baltic States, Liechtenstein, Croatia, Serbia, and Moldavia. We were being so successful at this age point, that we planned to expand further in Europe. Denmark and the Czech Republic were at fifteen.
“Hainan is part of China?” I asked. “What age is China set at?”
“Fourteen,” Hoyt answered. “And Ted claims there’s plenty of potential supply. We’re making a killing with brothels in Germany at the earlier ages. We want you to check out whether Ted is on to something on Hainan. If so, there’s opportunity in China, and China is opening up more than ever to tourism. The men looking for fourteen-year-old boys will travel for them.”
As would I. “OK, I’ll go,” I answered. “When do I need to fly?”
“You’re ticketed already. To Beijing on Tuesday of next week. Down to Hainan from there on Thursday. It’s said to be an unspoiled tropical paradise. Pack your Speedo, condoms, and lube.”
“I think my Speedo days are about over,” I said. I was in great shape still, but I was twenty-eight.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Chaz. You’re still a hunk. If we weren’t both tops, I’d be covering you myself. But you may be right about a Speedo. It would too easily reveal how hung you are—scares off some of the boys before you can seduce them. Speaking of that. The new young intern. I understand you’ve already—”
“Ethan Mitchell? Yes, I’ve spiked him. He was begging for it. He’ll give you everything if you continue his job past August when he has to start of college. And he’s an excellent lay. Too old for me really, though. Living in the States is rough.”
“Yes, it is for such as you, but you are able to take trips to Germany, the land of fourteen-year-old tail. And now China. Make the most of it. And you say that the luscious blond intern is available?”
“Be my guest.”
“I think I possibly will.”
And he did. Before the weekend was out Ethan wasn’t nosing around me to get laid anymore, and he had a for more powerful mentor in the firm than I was. Richard Wright was walking around looking a bit dejected too, so it was clear he wasn’t the one getting it from the new intern.
John Liu, the head of the Hoyt and Maclaren Beijing office, and I had a history. John was half Chinese, half San Francisco, and all assertiveness and Manhattan ambition. He was some seven years my senior and when I’d first come to Hoyt and Maclaren, he’d taken me under his wing and into his bed. In those earlier years, me just out of business school and twenty-one, I was undecided on what I wanted to be sexually. I did understand, though, that I needed to be what more powerful men in the firm wanted me to be.
Liu had decided I would be a bottom and he used me mercilessly. I hadn’t bottomed in college. There for a while I did bottom, as necessary, in the firm of Hoyt and Maclaren. As our affair developed, it became more of a flip-flop arrangement and, eventually, he just wanted to cruise with me and we’d share a young man we picked up. I shared and doubled as a provider with John for a time; I hadn’t done that since John was transferred out to Japan.
There was a mean, mischievous, and cruel streak in him and I wasn’t upset when he was shipped out to Asia, first to Tokyo and then to Beijing. His half Asian heritage was deemed to be a company asset in the capitals of Asia. John, now thirty-five, was a tall; well-exercised; slim, but muscular; handsome man, with large hands and feet and cock. He still was the type who took charge and got what he wanted. I was so busy reading in on the Hainan operation that I didn’t consider the history the two of us had and John assertiveness.
On my second evening in Beijing, en route to Hainan, we were in the back of his chauffeured car, wandering our way through the narrow streets of the old Xisi residential district still dominated by the high-walled courtyard dwellings of ancient Beijing. The district was located to the northwest of the Forbidden City, across Beihai Park from that center of the city. It was amazing how much Beijing was a patchwork quilt of sleek high-rise business centers interspersed with Old China. We could have been back two or three hundred years in time in the Xisi district.
We were in the shadows in the backseat of his car late into the evening and John was being frisky. We’d kissed and he’d fondled me, which I’d tolerated, but when he’d started to unbuckle me, whispering, “Shuck them off and turn your ass to me, Chaz.”
I staid him with my hand with an attempt at a friendly toned, “I don’t take it from a man anymore, John.”
He muttered, “We’ll see about that,” but he stopped trying to strip me. He obviously had when willing to surface old times. I didn’t. Not with John. Not as a submissive. I’d moved well beyond that. Still, he was my host for my two days in Beijing, and he’d accommodated me. He’d found out my weakness for fourteen-year-old boys, and my first night in the city—in his apartment—and despite my jet lag, he had supplied me with a sweet boy for my bed.
“The age of consent here is fourteen,” John said, as he entered my room, where I was in bed, reading papers in preparation for the Hainan inspection, “so feel free to let loose with Fai, here. He came to us from Hainan. I understand that starting up a low-age male brothel there is in your brief, and I thought you’d like to get the feel of a Hainan boy.” He had guided a small, young Chinese boy into the room, who was naked and who was perfectly formed and looking at me shyly. John laughed and then continued. “He came to us a virgin, but that was a couple of months ago.” He handed the boy up onto my bed, gave another little laugh, and left the room.
I didn’t have an opportunity to demure. I have no idea if I would have resisted, given the chance. Fucking boys of this age and size was my fetish.
The boy was handsome and didn’t seem at all hesitant. John had indicated that he was a pro, even at fourteen. I was just in sleeping shorts that, with a flourish and an “Oh, yi, yi, yi, Tai tamade dale—so fucking big” comment, Fai stripped off my legs. He was knelt between my thighs, grasping the root of my quickly engorging cock with one hand, and noisily sucking on the bulb of the shaft with his mouth before I had a chance to move in any. He had trouble getting just the glans in his mouth, but he seemed intent on managing to deep throat me even as I was filling out. But he was determined and I was lost to his determination, so, with a groan, I just lay back in the bed, threw my arm over my face, and moaned my pleasure, putting my pelvis into a face-fucking sway as he continued.
He did manage what he’d set out to do, an arm embracing my waist, me digging my heels into the mattress and raising my pelvis slightly to him, and, once I was deeply in his throat, slowly rising and falling on the balls of my feet, fucking his throat, as he gurgled and gagged.
When I couldn’t take anymore, I took control, rolling to one side and taking him with me until I’d pinned him. I pulled him up to me—he was light as a feather and couldn’t be more than five feet—and put him under me. He didn’t fight me, and this was one of the things I loved with the fourteen-year-old boys. They didn’t say no, ask “why,” or resist manipulation. They readily yielded to my command.
I took possession of his lips with mine and pushed my knees between his thighs. He pushed his pelvis up, reached down and grabbed my cock, and put the bulb into position. My glans lodged in his puckered hole, I pressed in, but he was too tight and I couldn’t breach the sphincter. We both knew I was going to get inside him, though, and as he arched his back, pulled out of the kiss, arching his head back and crying out to the headboard in whatever language came quickest to him when he was in panic, I thrust hard and was inside.
I pulled back an inch and thrust again. He cried out again and writhed under me. Thrust and cry. Thrust and cry. Thrust and muted sob. Thrust and a cried out “Shi de, zai wo de ram!—Yes, ram it in me!” Thrust, thrust, thrust.
John came back into the bedroom and stood near the bed. He was naked and had his cock in his hand. He stood there, watching.
Thrust and cry, and Fai collapsed under me, his body going limp and his arms sprawled out from his sides in a cruciform position, his channel going soft at the core. I was in to the short and curlies. I held there, throbbing, as I waited for his channel walls to relax and to sheath me in a close fit. I cupped the back of his neck and raised his face to mine. His eyes were glassy, giving me a dreamy look. He opened his lips to mine and let my tongue inside. As he sucked on my tongue, we both felt the muscles of his channel walls begin to undulate over my hard shaft.
He moaned deeply as I began to move the shaft, slowly to begin with, and then faster and faster. He jerked his face away from mine, arched it back again, and panted heavily and cried out again and again to the beat of my increasingly frantic thrusting.
“Shi de, shi de, wo hen nan guo!—Yes, yes, fuck me hard!”
As he set into moving his hips and going with me in the fuck, he reached down, grasped his cock, and beat himself off while I was plowing him hard until, giving a cry of my own, I came deep inside him.
For a brief, but glorious moment, the boy clung to me, panting and trembling, with tears in his eyes, as I was still in him and both of us experiencing the sensation of me starting to go flaccid. He held me as hard as I did, and he moved his face to mine for a deep kiss of his own volition. Disengaging, he arched his head back and I kissed him on the throat and down onto his chest, going to his nipples and sucking them. Both of us felt me hardening in him again. He was trembling.
“Ti, ti, dai, dai—yes, yes, please, please,” he murmured. “Zai ci. Zai cao wo yi ci!—Again, again. Fuck me again.”
I didn’t understand what he was saying, but his meaning conveyed. I slowly started moving my shaft inside him again, quickly reengorging. He groaned and moved his pelvis with me. The second fuck was calm, sensual, deep, the flow from both of us released with a deep sense of pleasure and satisfaction. If I’d had any sense before of taking him beyond his willingness, his complete giving to me the second time dispelled that.
As I rolled away from him onto my back, panting, Fai was being lifted from the bed. John took him up, put him on all fours on the floor next to the bed, mounted him, and fucked him doggie style. Although his voice was weary and hoarse, the boy cried out for John’s thrusts as much as he had mine.
The next night, in the back of the car, as I gently pushed away John’s advances—he wasn’t trying too hard—he whispered to me, “You know the boy from last night—Fai?”
“Yes,” I answered. “He was sweet. That hit my interests now directly.”
“I lied to you.”
“Fai has been trained to suck cock—”
“And he was quite expert at it,” I interjected.
“But he hadn’t reached the anal play stage yet. You fucked a virgin.” He laughed.
“You should have told me,” I said. “I would have treated him more gently.”
“But you wouldn’t have refused to fuck him, would you? And, in watching him, I could tell he was having a good time. You’ve done him a favor. He’ll go back to the brothel now with experience of having taken probably the largest cock he’ll every have to take there. You have advanced his training quickly. He knew you were going to fuck him in the ass when I brought him into the bedroom. It was all part of his training for a profession he chose.”
“But he has suffered for it.”
“That’s what sex is—suffering through to the glorious pleasure. And, for some men, the delight of observing and absorbing the suffering, the total giving—and taking. Fai most certainly suffered in his deflowering, but that is vital to a lucrative profession he volunteered for. And it’s vital to your fetish for small boys, isn’t it, Chaz? You enjoy seeing their small holes taxed with your monster shaft. I saw you draw back, lean away from his buttocks, with your hands grasping your ankles and your eyes glued to the root of your shaft stretching Fai’s virginal hole to its limits. You were in ninth heaven. You live to stuff a small boy’s passage with that monster cock of yours.”
What could I say? So, I gave him no response. No, I wouldn’t have decline fucking Fai if I had known he was a virgin to anal play, I realized, although I wouldn’t acknowledge it to John. John was right. The knowledge I was first and he was willingly giving himself to me would have made fucking the boy all that much more heavenly. John always brought out the evil, the selfish, and the primeval in me. It was why I had avoided him in these past few years. I wasn’t proud of being vulnerable to sinking to his level of selfishness and depravity.
He also scared me, as I knew that he still wanted to ride me, and I hadn’t let a man cover me for six years. I couldn’t even remember if I had enjoyed it. If I had, I’d managed to blot that out of my mind.
Our sojourn into an old residential section of the city this second night was for John to make a point in a discussion we were having that morning over coffee on his small balcony in one of the modern-city districts overlooking the bustle of a million bicycles—and now cars as well—of the center of Beijing going to work. Of course we could barely see the street twenty stories below us for the blue cloud of pollution that had plagued the city for decades and that came and went on the whims of the breeze.
“Hainan is natural for Ted’s project,” John said. “The age here is fourteen. Hainan is taking off as a sex resort for men wanting boys that age. It’s the time of the onset of puberty. A man gets the freshness and boyishness of the young at the point at which the boy is willing to experiment and give, having sensations of maturing, wanting to experiment with sensuality. Boys that age are yielding; they are programed to do what a man tells them to do. And it’s legal here. You’ve found that to be true in Germany, Austria, and Italy, where fourteen is legal. But for many men—hedonists like you—size is a factor too. Don’t look like that at me, Chaz. In this regard you are a hedonist. You have a fetish you have the urge to feed. I watched you fuck Fai last night. You were besotted with the idea of screwing a small boy of that age. What were you thinking when you were forcing yourself into Fai and he was saying he was suffering and didn’t think you could penetrate?”
“I had no idea what he was saying. It was in Chinese.”
“Don’t evade the point. You could tell what we was saying from how he was suffering.”
“I was determined to get inside—to fuck him. Once I was in, he loved it, and I did no real damage.”
“Precisely,” John said.
I said nothing and he continued. “Most European boys are well into five feet and husky by the time they are fourteen. Many Asian boys aren’t. Fai, the boy you fucked last night was legal, but he was small, very tight, and totally submissive to a man’s demands. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I admitted. And it was true that much of the high from the previous night had been the uncertainty whether the small Fai could take me—and the difficulty with which he did—whether there were physical limits and an edge to those that might provide the ultimate pleasure for me based on the suffering of the boy that blossomed into mutual pleasure when I had won through. The feeling of victory of mastering a tight boy. The slimness of a thin boy’s hips and the imagery of the developing pelvic plates of a boy that age and whether there was room in the developing relationship between the anal canal and the pelvis for a hung man’s cock to push through fascinated me.
I knew I was being a bit silly; I knew nothing of medical science. It was the image of the challenge and the effect on the boy that I found stimulating and arousing. I had no real idea what the relationship was between the anal canal and the development of a boy “down there.” I just knew that I was turned on by the image of the tips of my fingers and thumbs being able to meet when I grasped a slim-hipped boy by the hips and split the difference with my cock, knowing that there was but very little capacity of his puckered anal opening for my huge cock to penetrate. Were there circumstances in which I simply couldn’t get in? Where were the edges of that? Could I train such a boy to take me? Would the pleasure of both of us reach new heights when I had?
And they had with Fai. The tips of my fingers and thumb had nearly touched as I held his slim hips immobile and shafted the difference. He had suffered and doubted that he could take me. I had only managed with great difficulty. But once I had impaled him, he had blossomed open for me and had loved it when we were settled into the fuck—as much as I did.
“Well, it’s what a lot of other men want too, and are willing to travel internationally to get,” Liu said. “Thailand is getting too expensive and the authorities there are too watchful now. And fourteen is too young legally there. Hainan is ideal. And the men are already arriving there and snuffling about for it.”
“But the supply,” I said. “Hainan is remote, and the population isn’t that big. For a male brothel operation, you need a good supply. And this is China. It’s puritanical, isn’t it? Just because the age is fourteen, that doesn’t mean that is meant to apply to men and boys and prostitution. Surely China tolerates behavior between a man and a girl that it won’t tolerate between a man and a boy.”
“We’ll take a look at that this evening,” John said, with a little smile. “The boy you banged last night was from Hainan, though, so I posit that they have enough willing boys there to export them.”
I remained skeptical. I knew he had something up his sleeve, though. We didn’t pursue the question further then. We had to dress and go into the Hoyt and Maclaren offices for the meetings that would be held when someone from the headquarters office was passing through. The sex trade operations of the company were only a minor, although very profitable, and secret branch of our operations. We had appearances to keep up.
As we drove down a quiet street in the Xisi district, walled compounds on each side with only double-doored entrances, some ostentatious, some not, relieving the blankness of the mud-brick walls, I saw the glow of blue neon in the distance. That was our destination. A moon gate was cut into a compound wall. Blue neon followed the curve of the opening from one road stone to the next. The gate was open but a burly Chinese guard stood in it. At the side of gate was a large neon sign, probably five feet tall, consisting of two simplified Chinese characters. I knew practically no Chinese but I knew the basic numbers in Chinese ideographs. The first character looked like an equal-sided cross. The charter next to it was a box with two curlicues at the top quadrant of the square four.
“Club 14,” John murmured in my ear. “All of the boys here are fourteen. I think you can see that the sign makes no secret of what is to be found here.”
“It could be young girls,” I offered in defense of my position of Chinese official tolerance. I could easily see that the authorities would put up with female prostitution—at that age or any other—and would not do the same for boys.
John snorted. “The authorities know this is a male brothel—and one dedicated to boys of fourteen. We have brothels for sex with dogs here in Beijing that advertise as openly.”
“OK, you’ve made your point,” I said.
“As long as we’re here, we’ll go in,” John said. “I want your visit to Beijing to be memorable.”
It was already memorable. But trembling a bit, I followed him out of the car. He handed me an ivory chit with the Chinese number for fourteen on it, keeping one for himself. As the car drove on down the street and turned into another opening in the wall, no doubt to a parking lot for the club, we handed the tablets to the guard at the door and were ushered into the compound.
“Do you fancy a massage and shower to start with?” John asked in an airy voice. He no doubt was looking forward to the evening.
I didn’t really fancy that, but he breezed on into the reception room and started chattering to the large Chinese man on station there in Mandarin. The man—the house pimp—was wagging his head and not even looking at the banknotes John was dispensing in his hand. I got the impression that the man knew the denomination of the notes merely from the feel of them—and was pleased and impressed.
Looking around, I could easily believe that all of the staff at the club other than this head pimp and the guard at the moon gate were fourteen—and most of them were small. All of them were only attired in briefs of various colors. Not all were Chinese. There were some Western, African, and Southeast Asian boys there too. All were sexy and all were looking John and me over as if we were a variety of candy they rarely got here in the brothel. No doubt that was true.
We were massaged in the same room, garishly decorated, mostly in scarlet, unsurprising for China, side by side by two sexy Chinese boys. John made sure that the smaller of the two massaged me. John got beyond the sports massage faster than I did, and his boy, tall for Chinese and willowy, with long black hair and what looked like the start of a transformation operation on his breasts, was saddled on John’s cock and was riding it in sweeping motions and deep groans while I lay on my table on my back and my masseur, small and more pretty than handsome, was sitting on my chest, leaning over, and sucking my cock—quite expertly too.
As my boy moved his body further down mine, saddled on my pelvis, grabbed my ankles with his little hands, and began his long, suffering slide down my shaft, John dismissed his masseur. He watched my small boy ride me while I grasped his thin waist between my hands and helped him rise and fall on the cock until it was obvious that I was so much into the fuck that I wasn’t going to pull out of it for any reason. Then John climbed up on the table, turned my masseur on my cock to where he was facing my head, and pressed the small boy’s chest down on mine. John positioned his cock head at the boy’s hole above where I already was massively buried and started working his way inside. With both of us grasping the boy’s waist and, eyes rolling up into his head, the boy writhed between us and made low yipping sounds from deep inside his chest. I held steady, while John slid his cock across the surface of mine, fucking the lad. He grasped the boy’s cock in one of his hands and stroked him off to the rhythm of the fuck. All three of us came in short order.
I should have known that John would find some way of taking us back to early in our knowledge of each other. We’d shared like this before. I hadn’t done so with anyone else after John, though, and didn’t think I’d ever would again. I can’t say I didn’t come prodigiously while doing it again now, though. I was weakening to John and to what I thought I had grown beyond. It was lucky that I was only here for two days.
When we’d showered, we came back out to the bar area, only dressed in silk robes, as were the other patrons around us. The fourteens swirling around us who worked here, were only in briefs. This included the bartenders, the waiters, the boys just drifting around offering themselves to the patrons, the musicians by the stage, and the boys on the stage dancing the poles.
We were leaning into the bar when the head pimp came up to us with a small Chinese boy in hand. The boy was possibly the shortest one I’d seen in here, his body small but beautifully formed. His silky black hair was long and straight, cascading down his berry-brown back. His eyes were cast down, but when he glanced up to look at me with a little shy smile, I saw that he was beautiful. He was trembling a bit too.
“He is for you,” John explained. “I bought him for an evening ride for you. He’s from Hainan. I want you to see that there’s no supply problem. He, of course, is a virgin, but is willingly in training.”
“You’ve made your point, John,” I said. But I couldn’t keep from extending my hand and touching the boy on the neck and the boy bent his head in the direction at my caress and looked up into my eyes with a look of resignation and acceptance—of willingness.
“I’m assured he will be tight. Often the boys are trained to the dildo before taking their first cock. He has been well lubricated, but not penetrated. Look how small he is, how slim his hips are. Can you even get it inside him between those slim pelvic bones? You want to prove you can, I know.” John ran his hands down the slim hips of the boy. “You’re huge, Chaz. Do you really think he can sheath you? He’ll be very, very tight.”
He was working my fetish desires against me. “John,” I said again, showing him I was perturbed and he was going too far.
“He’s paid for, Chaz. Either you deflower him or I will. You’re bigger than I am but not significantly for what he’ll suffer. I’ll take him hard, you know I will.”
The pimp took my hand in his free hand and turned and guided us to the back of the bar, through the beaded curtain-covered doorway and back down the corridor, past the doors to other rooms from which the sounds of sex emanated. John followed on behind the procession.