Kevin Armstrong - Burmese Boy

“That’s great Adrian. Let’s meet here a week from now, five o’clock on Monday afternoon.”

“That would be wonderful Godfather.”

“Oh, and don’t forget to bring your lovely cock.”

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow, not getting my rather poor joke, and then he laughed quietly.

The week or so in Puchong seemed to go fairly slowly. I was researching a book I am writing on ‘The Emergency’, the period during the 1950’s and early 1960’s when British and Australian forces were fighting communist guerrillas in the jungles of Malaya, or Malaysia as it became when the British colony gained its independence. I took Chen’s cute Chinese Chou dogs for walks around the lake and in the evening after work I would sip on a couple of Tiger beers with my friend on his balcony. One night after a couple of “sherbets” as they say in Australia we started to talk about sex – straight sex at that. Chen, because of his looks, has never had any trouble cracking onto women. He told me that he only likes to go with very beautiful women, however he sometimes comes across the problem, even with the most exquisite girls, of “the ugly vagina.”

“Well, maybe you don’t have to look at it.”

Chen gave me a depreciating look, as if he pitied my gross naivety. “There are times when you actually do have to look at it.”

“The ugly vagina?” I countered. “I don’t think it’s a problem I’ll ever encounter.”

At last Monday arrived, I took the train into the city centre and checked into the Corus Hotel. I arrived early at Malone’s Bar and ordered a Happy Hour pint of Tiger. Already I was kicking myself, this was all a complete waste of time. I should have stuck with ‘The Emergency’ and walking the dogs around the lake. Why would cute Adrian of the closely cropped hair and the sparkling eyes bother to meet up with me? He’d probably forgotten all about our date. Just as I was planning what I would do on a suddenly vacant evening my mobile rang at precisely 5 p.m.

“Hello Godfather. Are we still meeting?”

“Of course Godson. Where are you?”

“At Malone’s.”

I realized the boy had been waiting outside for me. I ordered some beers and we joyfully resumed our laughing and clinking. Afterwards I discovered that Adrian lived nearby, handy to the mono-rail. His work was fairly mysterious and he said something about earning “commissions” but I didn’t press him. He also told me that he shared a flat with his sister who was only seventeen and worked in a beauty parlour.

“Well, what do you feel like doing Godson? Do you want to go to Day Thermos or to my hotel.”

“Oh, hotel please Godfather. Floor of Day Thermos all sticky with cum.”

Back at the Corus hotel we went up to my room and got down to business fairly quickly. I’m not really sure if I will be able to portray this in my prose effectively but Adrian has this cute habit of recoiling with wide eyes and gasping “Ohh!” when something interests him or amazes him. You could describe it as a big double-take. Now that we were getting to know each other I started to respond, so we had great fun reacting to each other with our “Ohh’s!” as the elevator doors opened to surprised residents.

At the risk of repeating myself, my friend Chen is one of the straightest guys I’ve ever met. We are very close, “soul-partners” in fact… but the nearest we’ve come to anything sexual was when he showed me pictures of his cock on his mobile phone in a bar one night. Of course it was beautiful, the colour, the texture… but completely beyond my reach as it were. I asked him if there was any way we could zoom in so I could have a closer look but he became a bit embarrassed and flustered and put the phone away. Yes, Chen is one very straight guy. This doesn’t mean that he isn’t curious about my exploits with boys and young men. One evening on his balcony overlooking Lake Mysterious I showed him some images I’d taken of Adrian. He pretended to be scandalized. “These are porn!”

“Oh don’t be so ridiculous Chen. The boy is wearing his briefs. Of course, you can’t see them in the pics but you can’t see anything else either.”

Anyway, Chen said that he wasn’t all that impressed. “He’s got a large mouth.”

“Huh?” Well that didn’t stop Chen asking Adrian when I finally introduced them in Malone’s a week or so later if he had any sisters.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the Corus Hotel. I sat on the end of the bed and Adrian came and stood between my legs. He quickly undid his belt and dropped his jeans. He was about to do the same with his briefs when I stopped him. “No, let me.” First of all I massaged Adrian’s genitals through his cotton briefs. Feeling the cock harden in my grip gave me something of a thrill. Well, it always does. Finally I lowered Adrian’s shorts and was gladdened to be reunited with his almost black cock. I peeled back the foreskin and took the moist head in my mouth. Soon there were generous drops of pre-cum. I held his balls in my hand, they were firm and full. “We’ll have to see if we can empty those later on.”

My Chinese friend Chen, always curious about my sexual relations with my Burmese boy, asked me sometime later. “What happens when you and the boy go up to the hotel room? What’s the protocol?” Protocol? Jesus! “Well what happens?” he insisted. “Do you sit round for a while and chat, have a drink maybe?”

“No Chen, we do not sit round and chat and have a drink, we get right down to it.”

However, on this occasion, our first time out of the sauna, there was a hitch, I was out of lube. Eyeing Adrian’s proud seven and a half inches I said “I think we’d better go shopping.” One of Chen’s friends is a youngish Malay guy called Marty. Marty is a plastic surgeon. Apart from working on unwanted lines and creases and crows’ feet in women, Marty can add two inches to a guy’s cock. I warned Chen that he was not to tell Adrian about this procedure. Apart from the obvious expense I would incur I didn’t think I could cope with my Adrian sporting nine and a half inches.

Soon some crystal-clear drops of pre-cum emerged from Adrian’s piss hole and I gratefully licked them up. He seemed delighted that I was tasting him. Wanting to postpone pleasure and so make it even more intense I suggested to my refugee boy that we should maybe take a break and go out to get something to eat. I asked him if he wanted to go to a local eatery or a western style restaurant. My preference in this amazing city is to go perhaps to a Malaysian, or perhaps an Indian place. The food always seems much more interesting (to a visiting palette at least) and the ingredients certainly fresher.

“Oh please Godfather, can we go to Friday’s? I sometimes go to local place. But with my wages I could never afford Western.” Friday’s it would be although I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to another boring serving of hamburgers or fish and chips. I wondered about KL’s cuisine. Once you got out of the centre of the city everywhere you look, especially in the poorer, most run down areas there are streets accommodating night markets and lined with stalls and mucking carts. The food seemed so plentiful and cheap that I wondered if anyone ever bothered to cook at home.

What I really love about Kuala Lumpur is how even at nine o’clock at night there are people everywhere eating and drinking and having a great time. There are travellers, bunches of people who look and sound as if they might be work mates and families revelling in the sights and the sounds of the night. The same can’t be said for some of our Australian cities. Come nine o’clock at night and the thoroughfares all too often become desolate, dreary no-go zones. A few desperate looking young people sitting behind cardboard signs begging for change. I don’t want to be too cynical but somehow all these signs look the same, as if some sort of cardboard sign dealer has cornered the market. Not so long ago I came across a young girl and boy equipped with the obligatory cardboard sign in Perth near the State Art Gallery. A passing matron dropped some coins in the couple’s plastic bowl and I could have sworn that beggar girl sneered as she turned up her snub nose. Moments later she pulled out an expensive looking smart phone. Probably calling her accountant.