Kevin Armstrong - Burmese Boy

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Burmese Boy: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Join writer, raconteur and chronic traveler Kevin Armstrong as he journeys through time and space on his gay sex odyssey. As Kevin explores gay saunas and other haunts throughout Asia and the Land Down Under he shares his outrageous experiences (he cheerfully admits to being something of a sex addict) of m/m sex, circle wanking, cock sucking and docking and inter-racial sex. His journey will appeal to mature gay men, younger gay guys just starting out, bi guys and even “curious” straight men and women.
During his epic gay sex odyssey Kevin Armstrong re-lives his youth and his sexual awakening. He recalls his discovery of wanking and the joys of sharing, the gayest Boy Scout troop on the planet, his “first time” and his adventures with Helmut the Helmet amongst others.
However during his odyssey we realize that there are certain threats to Kevin’s free and easy life-style. Sluttish, irresponsible, life-style some would say. In a remote country town in Australia where he has gone to direct the musical “Cabaret” he falls in love with a just-turned-legal cub reporter. Although the boy is a one man cock-sucking welcoming committee to sailors arriving from the four corners of the world, he insists that he is not gay.
EXTRACT:
On his odyssey our intrepid traveler provides plenty of advice on living a gay life such as:
• Keeping safe in gay venues.
• What to do if you are hassled.
• Proven techniques for cock docking and can circumcised guys participate?
• Secret, unwritten codes used in the gay sauna.
• Cut or uncut? The pros and cons.
Although he is a self-confessed gay slut our Kevin wonders if he has finally met his match when in Kuala Lumpur he comes up against Adrian, a beautiful Burmese boy. As his relationship with Adrian develops through many sexual encounters Kevin finds himself relating his experiences to his friend Chen who is a handsome young Chinese actor in the film industry. Although Chen is possibly the straightest guy Kevin has ever met he seems to have an avid, even an obsessional interest in hearing about Kev’s love-making with his Burmese boy. Will this lead to further complications?
EXTRACT:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Kevin Armstrong works as a scriptwriter in Australian and Asian film and television. “Burmese Boy – a Gay Odyssey” is his first e-book for Balmain Publishing.
“Burmese Boy” contains graphic descriptions of gay sex acts. It should not be read by the faint-hearted or those below the age of 18. As the twilight turned lilac we lay in each other’s arms.
“I’m not really gay you know Kev.”
“Really? You could’ve fooled me.”
“Yeah… I’ve got my eye on this chick… Judy, works in Coles.”
“Well, after this afternoon, at a rough guess, I could be forgiven for thinking this is not the first time you’ve sucked cock.”
“Nah, I have to admit I love having dick in my mouth.” He laughed. “It’s my little secret.”
“But if you don’t mind me asking, where do you find cock in a place like this?”
“The ships.”
“What?”
“I go down the port. We get ships from all over the world. With those sailors spending weeks at sea I get all the cock I want. I guess I’m like a one man cock-sucking welcoming committee.”
“My God, they should give you an award!”
After the waiter had deposited two pints of Tiger I got straight to the point and asked my new Burmese friend if he visited the sauna very often.
“Sometimes. When I can afford it.”
“Do you usually fuck Asian boys or always Caucasian guys?”
“Oh, always Caucasian men. Never Asian boy.”
He looked at me rather wistfully. “You have family?”
“No, no children. But I do have a goddaughter. She lives in England.”
“Oh…” his eyes glistened. “Can I be your godson?”
“Of course you can.” We both laughed and raised our glasses. Then he looked at me rather seriously.
“I love my godfather. But is it OK if I fuck with my godfather?” He laughed uproariously.
“I’m sure it’s OK… my godson.”
More glistening and clinking.

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CHAPTER TWO: Love in a Sauna

Often the received wisdom in gay circles is that “you will find sex but never love in a sauna.” I beg to differ and will outline my reasons later in this chapter. On the other hand wherever you go in the world you will find, usually, younger guys, wasting hours of their time in saunas. Perhaps they are looking for ‘Mr Perfect.’ They’ll walk around and around, cruising the floors of saunas, rejecting advances from other men. Perhaps they’ll be given a piercing look, a brush of an arm, a wink… On the other hand there are sauna habituates who are pretty shy about making such advances, fearing the hurt of rejection. So there are heaps of Mexican stand offs. By the way, the universal, international signal gays in saunas will give to either indicate lack of interest or that a sex session is over – is two light taps on the other guy’s arm or wherever. Ninety nine times out of a hundred the would-be suitor will not persist – after all there are plenty of other fish in the sea and cocks in the sauna. If you are harassed then report it to the management – they often have a policy on this kind of incident.

On a much more recent visit to Day Thermos I was wandering around wearing my blue towel when I encountered a dark region I hadn’t visited before. It was like a vision of Hades with bulging figures looming out of the shadows. I found my way into a room that that had a huge round bed-like structure covered in white plastic. Vague shapes shifted in the gloom. I was feeling pretty horny so I divested myself of my towel, lay back on the bed and waited to see what would eventuate. Sure enough I soon felt a flicker of rubber on the end of my cock and a tall, wavy haired young man was impaling himself on my shaft. I spurted fairly quickly and my cock slid out of the young man’s arse. I asked him his name – “Rafael”. My God, I’ve always wanted to fuck someone called Rafael. I headed for the showers and in a fairly abashed manner had to explain to a couple of Malay boys that I had just released my load.

I spent an hour or so downstairs on one of the complementary on-line computers checking and answering e-mails. A drink of coffee at the bar and I felt things “down there” stirring again. My God… perhaps it had something to do with the special ambiance of Day Thermos because it usually takes me twenty four hours to recover and re-fill the tanks.

I then headed upstairs again into the darkened corridors and play areas and came across the two young Malay boys from the showers. They’d joined a bunch of slightly older guys and were just starting off a circle wank. One of the lads gave me a wave, making it clear I was welcome to join in. Most gay men and particularly habituates of gay saunas won’t need me to explain the circle wank. But for the benefit of any straight lads who may be exploring these pages…

For a circle wank all the boys stand in a circle (obviously… duh). There should be some light because it’s hotter if you can see what everyone else is doing. Everyone is naked, no towels. Instead of grabbing your own cock you take hold of the weapon of the boy on your right and he in turn grabs the cock of the guy on his right. And so it goes on round the circle… the more the merrier… until the boy on your left takes hold of your cock. And so the wanking begins. There’s a kind of mysterious silent communication between the lads and this sets the pace… slower or faster… shorter or longer strokes. In this kind of revved up hothouse atmosphere it won’t be very long before some of the boys start spurting into the centre of the circle. I’ve been involved in circle wanks where there are awards – perhaps for the boy who cums first or for the guy who manages to hold out longest.

I first got involved in circle wanks, believe it or not, when I was a member of the Boy Scouts. I belonged to the First Applecross Troop in a riverside suburb of Perth, Western Australia. Thinking back I realize this may have been one of the gayest Boy Scout troops in the whole of Australia. Of course in those days my school mates and I had never heard of the term “gay” pertaining to sex and we’d certainly never come across the word “homosexuality.” We’d had it drummed in to us that it was “dirty” to even think about touching up girls. But no one had told us that we shouldn’t play with each other. I guess you could say we were innocent or at least naive in a queer sort of way. Nevertheless, some instinct told us that we should be very discreet about our “playing”, it was to be kept a dire secret in our own little world.

My first brush with sex came when I was the age of twelve. I’d started to get regular erections and my cock would pop up in my grey school boy shorts at the most inconvenient of times. I’d heard about wanking but didn’t really know what it meant. Then the word went round our junior high school one Friday afternoon. An older lad (all of about sixteen) who was from another nearby high school was going to give an exhibition of wanking on the following morning. This was Neil Hamilton who I imagine, thinking back, must have been a straight boy because he had the not so savoury reputation of fucking both his sisters in the family bathroom when their parents were out at work.

So early on the Saturday morning twenty or so of us gathered in a small bushland clearing just off the sports oval of our school. Neil Hamilton turned up on time and asked the boys to form a circle.

“Have any of yous started wanking yet?

Two of the older lads (about thirteen) rather sheepishly raised their hands.

“OK… for the benefit of the rest of yous I’ll show you how it’s done.”

With that he dropped his shorts, releasing a fairly large uncut cock into the fresh morning air. It was already rock hard. With his right hand he started to pull and push his foreskin up and down the shaft. He obviously had a fairly generous amount of skin because I recall that it would completely cover the cock head with each stroke. I noticed that I was getting hard myself and that several of my mates had tent like shapes in their shorts. After Neil had been stroking for about ten minutes he shouted: “Here it comes” and I was astonished to see jets of white liquid spurting out of his piss hole. Now this was confusing. Was that what some of my friends called “spunk”? I’d always thought that the slit on the end of my cock was exclusively for pissing out of. Wow, talk about multi-purpose? There was a sporadic burst of applause.

Now, grinning rather sheepishly, Neil Hamilton shook leftover drops of cum off the end of his cock, pulled up his shorts and disappeared into the bush without saying a word. I couldn’t wait to go home and experiment.

Back to the Boy Scout troop. A couple of weeks after Neil’s demo it was school holidays and my folks had signed me up for a camping trip in the Darling Ranges with the scouts. We arrived in the hills on a Saturday and set about putting up the tents. I always loved this phase of scouting, working out how to pitch the canvas, banging in the tent pegs, tying off the ropes with the intricate knots we’d practised. The reef knot was my favourite. There was something deeply satisfying about pitching a tent.

After the pitching was over Mr Boswell the Scout Master called us together and told us we had a choice – we could go for a bushwalk with him (most of the guys cheered at this) or because we’d had a fairly long journey and had worked hard pitching the tents, those boys who were tired could rest in the tents if they wanted to. I elected to stay and rest as did Tim, a rather dark skinned boy who was a member of my patrol and would be sleeping in my tent. I thought that Tim’s ancestors may have come from some place in the middle east, or maybe even the Indian sub-continent but he had a broad enough Aussie accent.

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