Then they reversed us—and I was impaled on Jorge’s rigid cock. Again we were massaged with long relaxing strokes—but our relaxed bodies were betrayed by our rock hard, aroused dicks. We had certainly absorbed a good deal of psychic energy! In the West, I think we would call this edging—not tantric energy concentration.
A second bench was brought out and placed nearby. Both of us were positioned on our bellies. The boys sat on our thighs and began similar long, soothing strokes of our glutes, hips, upper thighs, before dropping back and ultimately moving to the inner thighs and calves. Often we could feel their cocks bouncing on our outstretched bodies. Curiously, it had been nearly an hour. We had had raging hard-ons for the entire time, but neither was in danger of immediate ejaculation. They were wonders at forestalling a climax.
Made then spoke. “There are several final possible final positions to the special massage. You may choose. The object of each is the same: four simultaneous orgasms.”
“Each of us could submit to you.”
“Each of us could insert while you take each other in the yin-yang position.”
“Or one of you can take the other. In that case, both of you may take our manhoods by mouth—or one of you could take my friend by anal entry—and I would offer myself to the other’s mouth.”
“He is older and entitled to the honor of pleasuring an esteemed guest with entry.”
“In any event, if either of you takes or is taken by us, we will of course be fully covered to insure your safety.”
My God, what a choice! “Do you have an idea, Jorge?”
“My immediate answer is yes. I want it all, but only if it pleases you. We do have a week. I would do nothing that makes you uncomfortable. This is your call. But, we are in Bali, after all.”
“So it’s my command decision. Today I will take Jorge. You Made shall have his mouth—it will be a treat for you. He is indeed very skilled at giving oral pleasure. And you, Akim shall take me as I take Jorge.”
“Excellent.” So the boys rolled in the wider low padded table and both unrolled deep orange-yellow sheaths onto their small erect cocks. Jorge moved to the table, belly down, head at the edge and straddled the side with his legs, opening himself to me. Akim placed a thick bolster under his gut. But we weren’t done. We were guests. Akim lubed Jorge deeply and thoroughly and then reached behind me to do the same to me. Made in turn rubbed a richly exotic flavored lube on his own erection. I stood behind, bent, entered and easily slid into my lover’s chute—as Made and Akim stood aghast at the size Jorge was able to take without difficulty.
As I began to stroke, Akim stood carefully behind me and positioned at the entrance. When I withdrew, he pushed. He had entered. He was not large and I took him easily—but this gave him the opportunity to demonstrate technique. He reached under and cupped my balls into his hand, holding me securely to his erection as we moved. And so we developed a nice rhythm. He found my prostate and stroked it nicely with each pass. I reached under and fisted Jorge’s shaft which was harder than I had ever imagined and began a slow stroke. He was obviously enjoying this. Then he looked up and Made offered his much smaller stick. Jorge pulled it in, deep-throated and began to suck in unison with my strokes. Made’s eyes widened as Jorge drew him into his throat. We were like a finely-tuned organic machine.
Akim and Made knew the routine. They had all the control. They would take their cues from us—and as we ejaculated—something we did routinely simultaneously, they would join in. It worked perfectly. Four powerful gushes ended the massage. Made and Akim withdrew as I collapsed into Jorge’s back, the perfect end to a perfect massage.
Minutes later we felt the warm trickle of the scented cleansing water poured from sprinklers by our two boys. We rose. They toweled us dry and handed us new clean sarongs. All four bowed ceremoniously and we headed back to the villa for some much needed rest. On the way, Jorge remarked, “That wouldn’t make such a bad gay wedding ritual.”
“Surely you jest. I suspect they’ll be telling tales of our size for years. We would be either the talk or the scandal of San Francisco. Imagine our families in the pews! But, the front seats could be sold for a fortune!” (I noted that this was our second reference to gay marriage in as many days.)
Later in the villa—or actually as we floated in the pool sipping G&Ts—since we had decided to skip happy hour, Jorge became very quiet and serious. Normally, he was the one who took everything lightly and cheered me. I loved that in him. But I wasn’t insensitive to his moods. “Okay. Spill it. Something’s bothering you.”
“Yeah, this afternoon. The whole experience seemed right at the moment. Made and Akim are toys—part of the package of this sensuous place. But it doesn’t seem right. You are probably going to consider me to be a Puritan. I certainly enjoyed all aspects of the beginning of the special massage—but the finale has been eating at me.”
“I have no issue with individuals choosing to engage in sexual commerce, as it’s now called in some places–whether as part of a massage or on its own. That’s a choice, at least most of the time. But these guys were born and sold into this business. I’ve never hired a whore. And somehow, I think what we did this afternoon was just that—and we probably are paying their pimps—an international hotel operator, with possibly a cut for their fathers. Hey really had no choice in the matter.”
“Before my hospital experience, you know that I was sexually active in the barrio, usually with girls and later with a few guys. It was just casual sex between young people who were experimenting with pleasure and okay with it—even though I was macho enough to always command the action and take the best. This is sort of the bedrock of my sexual morality—free choice among consenting adults, alphas always on the take, subs choosing their lot.”
“Then after I started at the hospital, I began to think about victims and victimhood—mostly because of war or poverty, but sometimes by custom. Before, I was always the taker, but at least the givers were volunteers, enjoying the freedom and pleasures of young sex. It hit me right between the eyes this afternoon: Made and Akim are not toys; they are not getting the same thing we’re getting. They are young men who have been sold out by their families. They have been conditioned, and now they, or more likely their fathers, are being paid. That is not to say they don’t enjoy it—and I’m sure the prices here, and your tips will compensate them well. But they are victims nonetheless. I don’t think I can enjoy this kind of experience.”
“And then there is the other part. I realize that you probably think that I sold myself to you, Anson, or I wouldn’t be on this trip. This afternoon brought that home to me loud and clear. I did agree to be here with full recognition of what I was doing—and congratulated myself on my decision after my first night in your bed. It was my choice. I didn’t need the money. I wasn’t forced by custom, family or circumstance.”