9.
As soon as we get home, we get right down to it.
Before we’ve even made it home, she’s squirming on the back of the motorbike, hips grinding against me at traffic lights.
I’m sitting at an intersection and she’s got me hard already.
I just want to pull over and mount her right here and now.
But obviously that wouldn’t be very smart.
I manage to keep myself under control, but it’s not easy.
Especially when she reaches down and touches my cock through my linen pants, rubbing the tip of my head.
“What’s that?”
I swat her hand away and struggle to keep my balance.
Phuket is nothing but hills, so you’re driving on narrow roads that snake through canyons no matter where you go.
I’ve got to keep calm, stop letting her distract me.
But as I take each curve, it’s her curves I can’t stop thinking about.
She’s so young, so horny. I’m aching to peel off her clothes and it’s driving me crazy.
Up the hill, down the hill, bad traffic all through Patong.
Then up and around more hills until we reach Cape Sienna.
She dismounts first, wobbling from the weight of that big travel backpack. I’m hard and aching as I swing my leg over the bike. She’s buzzing, almost clinging to me as we approach the door.
“I’m so fucking wet,” she whispers. “I wanted to touch myself the whole way home.”
God damn. It’s agony and I have to get inside now.
I reach in my pocket for the keys to unlock the door and she’s already pawing at me, her hands moving everywhere like she’s a cat needing to be fed.
We hurry inside, she dumps the backpack on the tile.
As soon I shut the door, our hands are all over each other, shedding each other’s clothes.
I slip off her top and she pulls my linen pants down and they fall to the floor leaving only my board shorts.
“Shower?” I say.
She shakes her head, this hungry, almost crazed look in her eyes. She’s not just ready, she can’t hold herself back anymore.
“Tell me what to do,” she says. “Order me.”
“Get on your knees,” I tell her.
Her knees bend before I can even finish saying the words.
Her hands move to my shorts, freeing my erect cock.
She takes me in her hands, pumping me once or twice between wrapping her lips around my head.
She sucks, lips running down my head to the shaft.
Her eyes look huge as she takes me all the way in her mouth.
You like this? her eyes seem to say. You want me to be your cute little slut?
I was ready before, but as soon as her tongue runs down my shaft my cock bucks, stiffens from her touch.
She works me, making smacking noises like she loves my taste more than anything she’s ever had.
There’s something visceral about the way she tastes me, licking me like she’s getting away with something dirty.
I rest my hand at the base of her neck, guiding her forward without forcing her. She bobs forward and back and my hips match her motion. She takes me deeper, making little gasps as my dick slides deeper into her throat.
“Thalia!” I shout. “Don’t stop! That’s so good, baby. So good!”
She hums, tongue swirling around my head as she works me. My head presses against the back of her throat, running along her palette. She cups my balls and squeezes them, almost like she wants to milk to seed from inside of me.
“I’m gonna cum,” I say after holding out as long as I can.
She squeals with her lips still around me, so eager she’d be shouting if her mouth were open. My head tilts back and my knees go weak as I let go, erupting inside her. She slurps, drinking what spills from me as if it’s a challenge that she won’t let go of.
“Holy shit,” I say, giddy from the high.
She runs her tongue across my head one more time before she wipes her mouth.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I just throw my head back and laugh.
“You don’t get it,” she says, panting a little as she has a seat on the floor at my feet. “That was so hot for me.”
I rest my hands on my hips for a second.
I glance at my Singh looking fierce and strong on his pedestal.
That rascal saw the whole thing. Then, because she looks so cozy sitting cross-legged on the floor, I decide to join her.
The tile is cool on my bare ass so I use my discarded linen pants as a cushion.
“It was good for me too,” I say. “In fact, that’s pretty much the most understated way that I could say that.”
“Was I that good?”
“Better than good. You were just so eager,” I say. “I’ve never gotten a blow job like that.”
“You didn’t get blow jobs from your girlfriends?”
“Not like that,” I say.
“It was the fact that your dick was kinda dirty that made me want you,” she says. “Does that make me a freak?”
“In the best possible way, yes.”
Her eyes flash with excitement and very well-deserved pride.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” she says. “It sounds gross, but I’ve always wanted to suck a guy’s unwashed dick.”
I can’t stop smiling.
“Not, like, a guy who’s just too lazy to shower,” she says. “It has to be just the right situation. Like today.”
“I went swimming and then walked up a hiking trail,” I say. “And that’s hot for you?”
“You’re not a girl,” she says. “You don’t understand how sexy a guy can be just from doing guy stuff.”
“Tell me,” I say.
She gets this cute little grin, slightly embarrassed but also excited to share her attraction.
“Okay, so when we were hiking, I couldn’t stop watching your ass as you walked up that hill. And then after you carried me on your back, that was it. I was sopping for you. If you had told me to, I would have let you fuck me right there on the asphalt with the monkeys watching.”
“Monkey queen! Monkey queen!” I chant.
She laughs and leans over to bring the crown of her head close to my face.
I smell her hair, just drinking her in. The shampoo’s long gone, just sun and salt and her.
I can’t get enough of this girl. The realization hits me somewhere low in the stomach and I push down some feelings I’m not ready to deal with yet.
Like, what’s it going to feel like when this ends?
Nope. Good vibes only.
I recover, letting the bliss of the moment sit there. She’s here, you’re here. Just enjoy it.
“I’ve wanted to do stuff like this for so long,” she says. “I just haven’t met a guy who was worthy of it. Until I met you.”
She looks at me with big eyes as she says it and I just melt.
I’ve never felt so sexy. Not horny—like I myself am sexy, which is a different thing.
I don’t usually think of myself as attractive.
I’m okay. It’s always at least a little surprising when I meet a woman who’s into me. Well, this one definitely is.
“I don’t know what I did to make you appear,” I say. “I just want to become the guy you see in me.”
“You are,” she says. “You so are.”
I touch her cheek, running my fingers back through her damp hair.
“It’s your turn,” I tell her.
She shakes her head just a little, a gentle tilt of her face from side to side.
“Not yet,” she says. “You going down on me when my pussy isn’t clean is not my fantasy. Kinda the opposite, actually.”
“Okay, but I’m going to have you tonight,” I say. “I’m telling you right now.”
“That’s fine,” she says. “I’m yours, but only after I’ve had a shower. And I want to cook for you.”
“Yeah?”
“I have to,” she says. “It would be so hot, being your cute, domestic girl who cooks you dinner and makes your belly feel all warm.”
She rubs my belly for emphasis, which I tolerate with dignity.
“That would be nice,” I say. “Better than nice. Perfect, actually.”
We rise from the floor and go upstairs. We share the shower, just lathering each other under the hot water.
I’d forgotten what a really hot shower feels like after months of the lukewarm version I usually settle for.
We kiss, caress, touch each other under the spray.
I feel like I could just live in here with her.
Eventually, we realize it’s time to get out.
We dry off and she dresses in my clothes again.
She’s wearing a tank top she picked up in Bangkok with the Red Bull logo except written with Thai lettering.
Red Bull’s a Thai brand originally, in case you didn’t know.
Krating Daeng is what it’s called in Thai, which translates roughly to Red Bull, so somewhere along the way someone decided to just keep it.
Her nipples show through the thin fabric and when she turns there’s a clear view of side-boob.
Her wet hair smells like my cheap shampoo.
I make a mental note to pick up something better, something that smells like her rather than like me.
Downstairs, I open a couple of beers and she loads up the washing machine.
In Thailand a lot of washing machines are hooked up in the kitchen, which took some getting used to but now seems like the most sensible arrangement.
She unloads her big traveling bag and puts in one load, then sets the bag in the foyer next to the Singh because she says the dirty clothes smell.
There’s not a lot in the fridge. Half a chicken breast, some eggs, a few vegetables going soft.
Enough to make fried rice. I set the rice cooker while she hunts through the drawers for a knife sharp enough to cut garlic.
I stare out at the water while I sip my beer.
Almost sunset. The sky’s doing that thing where it goes orange at the horizon and then purple straight above.
While we’re waiting for the rice to cook, we step outside and take the two deck chairs and watch the sun go down over the water, holding hands without either of us making a point of it.
“Great day,” I say.
“The best.”