Best of Asian Erotica, Volume 2

GOOD MORNING, BANGKOK Andrew Penney, Thailand

Savika. As Thai as the fragrant jasmine rice used each year in the Royal Ploughing Ceremony to ensure a good harvest. But—quite unmistakably—also a daughter of Mother India; the pink and bronze tones in her complexion telegraphed her Thai-Indian ancestry in a way which stiffened the cocks of a certain kind of Thai male with thoughts of Hindu gods making love in a sea of churning milk.

The General who was admiring her contours as she slept was one of those men. Although Savika’s Indian features were softened by her Thai blood, the heft of her full breasts belonged to an apsara, one of those curvaceous Hindu sprites decorating temples all over Southeast Asia.

In the quiet street far below the sleek new studio apartment which the General used as a garconniere, street hawkers were setting up their noodle carts in the pre-dawn, and steady streams of Japanese cars were already threading themselves through the Bangkok roads in a routine which was designed to beat the dreaded rush hour jams of Krung Thep, the City of Angels.

It was so early in the morning that nearly every car in that thick flow of traffic had a sleeping child strapped into the back seat, an authentic Bangkok angel dreaming in his or her school uniform. The natives of Bangkok love to boast that their children eat, sleep, study, and are even born in cars; the city’s traffic department has a squad of officers trained to nip through traffic jams on motorbikes and deliver babies in the gridlock.

Savika was sleeping so deeply that the General was able to use his cellphone to speak to his official driver without waking her. This was hardly surprising; the General was physically powerful, sexually experienced and was known to be a bold and demanding lover.

One of the national emblems of Thailand is the garuda, a fearsome and very virile male eagle which soared into Buddhist mythology via the Hindu culture that is at the root of so many things Thai. This includes the writing system, religious rituals, court etiquette, dance, music and art—even virtually every surname in the Kingdom. The Hindu God Krishna himself was said to have ridden into cosmic battles under a banner depicting this creature.

The General had swooped over—and against—Savika’s supple young body like a garuda, taking his pleasure from the rich curves which felt so different from the smooth milky flesh of his main wife and his main concubine, who were both Sino-Thais of good birth, like himself.

He had spread her arms on the bed like wings and used his strength to press her wrists into the mattress as she moved her hips under him in that fierce Indian rhythm which they both enjoyed. The heavy breasts swelling above that narrow Indian waist had been crushed against his smooth chest during their lovemaking, and her heels had squeezed the firm muscles of his lower back when she wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him more deeply into her body.

The idea of making love with a dusky Indo-Thai woman represented erotic possibilities which were something like a drug for some Thai men. Savika herself took some very sharp pleasures from satisfying the General’s tastes for Indian women, who were believed to be loose and uninhibited.

The erotic appeal of such women never failed to grip these Thai males, whether they were ethnic Thais, or a luuk jeen like the General, whose family had emigrated from China three centuries ago and risen to the very highest levels of Thai society—as courtiers, senior army officers, and titled merchants.

Indo-Thais had lived and prospered quietly in the Kingdom for centuries.

It was a small community; fewer than 70,000 souls versus something like seven million Sino-Thais.

Like the Chinese, they had become utterly Thai, producing a caste of Thai-speaking businessmen and advisers. The chief Hindu priest of Thailand, who presided over royal rites, was Indian, and at least one Indo-Thai had served as a Privy Councillor.

Shortly before six in the morning, the General decided to wake his mistress for some brisk exercise before he headed for the office.

He bent his head between the thighs of the sleeping woman, and blew softly on the sensitive folds which were exposed because she was so relaxed that her thighs were slightly parted. When Savika’s hips moved, her patron gripped her knees to part them even further and began to pull her out of her slumber by raking the lips of her yoni with his strong white teeth.

The General was fond of sleepy sex; he had a taste for watching women sleep and for taking them before they were awake enough to know whether they were ready to be penetrated by him. He loved feeling sleepy women tighten about his lingam in surprise as they began to realize what was happening to them.

None of his women were complaining. He knew that Savika, who happened to have the same name as a popular Indo-Thai TV actress, was particularly fond of being woken up for sex.

Yawning twice, she rubbed her eyes open and gazed at her patron, with eyes which were so large and dark that she looked like she was wearing eyeliner even without any makeup. The heavy gold dancer’s anklets that she wore to feed the General’s fantasies jingled lightly as he slid his lean body along hers, crushing her breasts once again, and pushed the heavy head of his very rigid lingam firmly past the warm, fragrant gates.

He wanted to devour his mistress; the dark and well-defined lips of her mouth became an early breakfast for him. He nipped and sucked at them and forced his tongue cleanly past her strong white teeth in exactly the way she liked, in a very deep embrace that pressed their tongues together and made his penis throb.

When the General penetrated his sleepy Indo-Thai apsara, he entered her in a sexual position which is known as the Bevel, his body fitting snugly against hers with every slow thrust, like the smooth bevels of a picture frame or a mirror. It was a classic position which permitted the man to enter a woman from the rear while she was lying on her back.

Kneeling astride her legs, he had grasped Savika’s right ankle and pulled her leg right across her body until it was resting on his right thigh; this tilted her hips and exposed her smooth buttocks to him. He kept a firm grip on her ankle and began thrusting.

The General’s young mistress gasped as she felt his lingam split her ripe body open and drive its thick head deep into her pussy with enough force to make the muscles of her anus clench and contract. She was dewy wet and deliciously tight. He enjoyed the low sounds which she was making as he took his time churning her hot inner sea in exactly the same way as the old Hindu gods might have churned the sea of cosmic milk with their bodies.

The General’s cellphone beeped twice just as Savika began writhing under him from the force of her orgasm, and her inner muscles began squeezing his cock. It was a text message from the General’s official driver, who had been circling the block. The General knew what the message said, but he merely grunted and continued to make love, allowing his mistress to take her time enjoying her little death.

Like many Thai men, the General had studied Tantric sex techniques; this was a society where it was not considered shocking for men of his rank and wealth to juggle official concubines and mere mistresses, and love all of them well.

He used these techniques to control his ejaculation, withdrew from his woman and patted her on one rounded buttock; Savika’s breasts were heaving and her smooth bronze skin was glowing from exertion. The mistress understood exactly what her patron wanted, and rose to a kneeling position on the bed. Tilting smoothly backwards, she arched her back like a bow to present herself to him, pillowing her head lazily on that thick glossy Indian hair, and on the hands which she kept crossed behind her neck.

And then she waited for the General to finish. His erection was dark with blood from his excitement, and bobbing aggressively as he moved between her thighs on his knees. Savika’s crotch and her mound were completely smooth, in the Indian style which her patron appreciated very much; he paused to split that smoothness with his thumbs and make her moan before he reared over her again and re-penetrated her.

Several minutes later, the General’s cellphone was beeping again, more insistently now, but nobody in the bedroom of that studio apartment was paying any attention; he was too busy riding his mistress, and he was also riding an orgasm which was so intense that he left marks on Savika’s upper arms and printed her shoulder and her heavy breasts with the marks of his teeth.

After he was done ploughing that darkly succulent body and had spurted a decent amount of his seed into his mistress, the General rolled onto his back next to the young woman and put his hand on her thigh to feel the deep muscles of her legs trembling from the effects of the very profound pleasures he had just inflicted upon her.

The lovers lay next to each other, panting. Savika rested one delicate hand on the rough but neat hairs of the General’s groin, rubbing the backs of her fingers lazily over the base of the cock which had been so very angry and hungry, but was now very tired after all that exercise.

Her patron enjoyed the light cool weight of his young mia noi’s hand on his penis, which was still bobbing stubbornly as it took its usual time to soften. The General knew that he would not be able to climb into his official car any time soon; his penis had a mind of its own.

It was a full minute before Savika was composed enough to sit up and wai him graciously—bringing her hands as high as the middle of her forehead—and her patron had calmed down enough to greet her and wish her a pre-dawn good morning with an abbreviated but affectionate male wai of his own.

The young lady knew her patron well enough to bend her face down and use the tips of her fingers to touch his feet lightly, Indian-style, as if they were a husband and wife in India.

As is the case in Hindu India, touching the feet in Thailand is a very intimate gesture of submission and love, and the General’s lingam began jerking to military attention again at her touch. Her rosy bottom, which was still completely naked, bobbed into his line of sight and sharpened his arousal.

The minor wife’s Hindu curves always did that to him; he was severely tempted to flip her onto her belly and pin her down, so that he could feel her heart beating wildly as she submitted to him and waited—together with him—for him to become fully erect and take her yet again.

However, the beeps and chirps from the cellphone were becoming increasingly urgent, and the General decided, reluctantly, to wash himself and get into his dress whites for the long day of military duties ahead.

Savika watched her general languidly from the bed, without lifting a finger to help him; her eyes were half-closed under her very long eyelashes as she watched him bathe that hard body and dress himself.

She memorized the velvety heft of his penis in her hand as she bid him farewell by kissing him along the shaft. After her lover had let himself out of the tiny studio flat, she stretched herself out on the sheets like a contented oriental odalisque and dozed for a while, dreaming contentedly as another bright and muggy new day began dawning in Bangkok, the City of Angels.