Content Warning: This work is intended for mature (NC17) audiences. If you are younger, please kindly leave this site.
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Perspective Gok
“There. It's undone. Please do not run like that again. You might get a wound.”
“Because you are running after me! And what do you mean 'might get a wound'? I already have one!”
Do you all think I am crazy? Why does my face feel so hot while I am looking at this older person who is bigger than me, as he is bowing his head and intently untying the tangled shoelaces for me? Furthermore, he reties them without seeming to mind my worn-out school shoes, which I used to frantically run away from the teacher. I end up blaming his husky voice. He acts like he forgets the fact that I just used his shirt to wipe my face a moment ago. Then I point to the wound on my knee to show him.
I fell with a loud thud. My knee hit the ground hard. My shin hit the trash can until it was bruised. What is more, I slid down and ended up lying in a heap. It would be strange if there was no wound. But the point is, it does not hurt that much... I am just embarrassed!
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“Well... not that much.”
I think I am definitely defeated by the cake shop guy's worried and caring expression. From my intention to get angry to cover my embarrassment, to be annoyed to cover my shame, I end up answering his softly coaxing voice, my own voice becoming soft and weak. I can only sneak glances at his sharp face, which is now making a stressed expression as if this small wound is terminal cancer.
“I am sorry. I should not have let you get hurt.”
You could refuse and say you did not make me fall. I am the dim-wit who ran into a trash can and fell by myself.
I feel so awkward. I do not think it would make him seriously believe that he hurt me. I try to push myself up, but my whole body aches. So I...
“Ouch!” The wound on my knee pulls so sharply that I stagger, and he helps catch me.
“I do not have anything with me. Let's go to my shop.”
Huh!
"No! I am not going!"
I exclaim, of course. Who would dare enter a shop where they just made a scene with the steamed cupcakes? But the fact that I yell so loudly, shouting with such force, makes the shop owner look hurt.
“Do you dislike my shop that much?”
“Hey, n... no.”
“You can tell me the truth. I can take it.”
What the hell can you take?
I freeze. I look at the person who is sighing and giving me a forced smile.
“Yesterday, after you ate the cake, you just ran out of the shop. You even forgot the water you ordered. I was worried that something was wrong with you. Pam also wondered if you did not like that I forced the cake on you. I myself tried to think all night about whether I accidentally did something bad to you. I could not help but wait for you in front of the school. If I did anything to displease you, I am sorry. And I even made you get hurt like this.”
The cake shop guy speaks at length, but all I can reply is...
"Huh!"
Me? I dislike the cake shop? Me? I was treated badly? Hey, wasn't I the one who was rude, running out like that? And I was so insolent, taking it back to the school bathroom to jerk off. So why is he apologizing to me?
“I am sorry. I really did not want you to get hurt like this... ”
"Wait, you!!"
I should feel pain when he suddenly raises his hand to touch near my wound. But his hand is very gentle, so I am the one who interrupts loudly.
I reach out to grab the hem of his shirt, which has a stain from my sweat, and then I hurriedly and stammeringly say,
“You are mistaken. I do not dislike your shop. I also do not dislike that you gave me cake. I... I, well, yes, yesterday, I remembered I had an errand. Really, you. An urgent errand. Extremely urgent. The kind where you remember and have to hurry, afraid you will not make it. I am the one who should apologize for making you think too much. I am sorry, you.”
I have manners too, you know. I might be in a gang of youth, but my parents raised me well. So I raise my hands in a wai to apologize to him. I also feel incredibly relieved... My secret is still safe!
Whew. So the reason he chased me was just that he felt guilty. Let me die. Why the hell did I run away like a fool for nothing?
“Oof. Got hurt for free.”
I mutter, bowing down to firmly hold my own knee. I can swear that I never once dreamed something like this would happen to me...
Thump
“Hup, there.”
“Hey!!! Why are you carrying me!”
Good Lord! I, Gok, am being carried. And not in a normal way either... The bride-carry style!
Holy shit!
I struggle, of course. What guy with a broad chest would be happy to be carried like this? I push against the cake shop guy's shoulder very hard. Meanwhile, he tightens his hold on me firmly. And does this hand have to hold my back that tightly? And the other hand, the other one! Does it have to be cupped so close to my butt cheek!
It is not anything, I am just... ticklish.
"I will take you to treat the wound."
"Why are you carrying me to treat the wound!"
"Because you could not stand up just now. I will carry you myself. Please bear with it, my shop is right here."
I shake my head so hard it might fall off. Because 'right here' means I have to be carried back to the mouth of the alley. Then we have to walk along the road back to the front of the shop... Along the road! We are not walking in a deep jungle. There are hundreds of people. Who would agree to be carried!?
“No, let me down!” I try to struggle and push because I am also afraid of falling. My knee is bruised, my shin hurts. I do not want a broken back on top of that.
Meanwhile, the handsome guy looks down and asks, “Why?”
Oh, I am definitely defeated by his gaze.
What to do? The cake shop guy is not looking at me with a scary expression. He is looking at me with a normal gaze. He is genuinely curious, genuinely concerned, genuinely worried, genuinely afraid that he hurt me. It makes a person with bad intentions like me soften bit by bit. Not good. It is really... damn, I am softening completely. Especially when he...
Whoosh
... lightly tosses me up to hold me more securely. And can you imagine? The more he tightens his hold, my whole body presses against his chest. My hand, which was pushing his shoulder, quickly grabs onto the cake shop guy's neck firmly. I feel the hot breath, the warm sweat from him chasing after me. And only our clothes are separating us.
I swear I have many friends. I have played with them a lot. So, being physically close with a guy should make me feel indifferent, right? But I tell you, his chest is damn hard. It is like a steel wall that makes me feel even smaller. Plus, his warm chest makes me hot... My whole face is hot.
Whoosh
“You, seriously, let me go.” So I bury my face against one of his shoulders. I know the cake shop guy is looking and probably wants an answer. And the same cowardly me still cannot choose from my own body. So I mumble softly against his shoulder,
"I... am embarrassed."
He does not ask anything further. He just agrees to put me down to stand on the ground again. But he still does not let go of my back. He is definitely looking down at me because I can feel it. And that makes me gather the courage to look up and meet his eyes. Then I find eyes... full of utter fondness.
“What is your name?”
“Gok,” I mumble.
“My name is Pong.”
I nod stiffly. Because my head cannot think of anything anymore. And my eyes widen a bit more when...
Thump
... this Pong guy lets go of my waist, but moves to hold my hand instead. Then he turns around and starts walking.
“If we hold hands instead, you, Gok, do not mind, right?”
The one called “Gok,” I think I already have many secrets. But I just learned there is another secret... I lose when I am called...
I want to ask loudly, are you shameless or what, daring to call yourself 'Pong', calling me 'Gok', and what the hell, Gok, are you crazy? Are you crazy? Crazy to be shy about the word... 'you'.
Arghhh! And why do his big, warm hands make other parts of me hot too!
I think I am lost in my own thoughts for a bit too long. In just a moment, I am led by the hand by this Pong guy to the cake shop. But in this condition...
“Hey, I smell like a dead rat. I am not going in.”
Besides shaking his hand off (because I just remembered), I insist by looking down at the rotten trash that fell on me. The smell, no, my own condition, even if my clothes do not look that dirty, is definitely not suitable for entering a sweet-smelling cake shop. And that makes Pong... smile.
“This way.”
He leads me to the side of the building. I start to wonder if I am being lured away to be killed. But I drag my feet and follow along. Then I understand when I see a door, and the shop owner unlocks it and goes in.
The kitchen.
In front of me is a modern-looking kitchen, as if it jumped out of a cake shop on TV... A refrigerator, no, this should be called a very large freezer, placed against one wall. Next to it is a gas stove with pots of various sizes. On the other side is a large silver oven that probably can bake many pounds of cake at once. In the middle of the room is a long silver counter stretching from the wall, filled with complete cake-making equipment.
And the best part... it smells very fragrant. Extremely fragrant.
Meanwhile, Pong walks to the front of the oven, presses a button on the side, and the light inside flashes on, letting me see the cake batter that is being baked. I can barely stop my legs from rushing in to look.
“You left the cake like that?” But right now I am more curious that the shop owner baked a cake and then went to wait for me in front of the school?
“It needs forty minutes. I put it in the oven and left immediately. I told Pam to keep checking on it. Oh, Pam is the woman at the counter.” I nod stiffly. The shop owner tells me to wait a moment, then walks through the kitchen out to the front.
“Pam, I am back. I will go upstairs for a bit.”
“Hurry, Pong. The youth are out of school. Pam alone cannot handle it.”
I hear them talking. I can guess the front of the shop must be full of female customers again. I can definitely say I will not show my face out front. It smells much better in here.
With that thought, I start to shuffle toward the front of the oven. My eyes are staring intensely at the light switch button. My hand is very itchy, wanting to try pressing it. But...
“Come. I will take you upstairs.”
“Huh? Why do I have to go upstairs?”
I might have followed him meekly, but I am not crazy enough to follow a stranger everywhere. What if he tricks me and kills me?
I must really look very suspicious because Pong scratches the back of his neck and says in a dry voice,
“I forgot that we just met. I want to take you, Gok, to clean your wound. The upstairs is my own room. You, Gok, can also take a shower. It would not be good to go back like this.” Just his words make me understand, right? What does his sweeping gaze make me realize about my own wretched condition?
If I take the bus back, no one would dare sit next to me. If I take a taxi, I would be kicked out of the car. So I... follow Pong obediently. Oh, in this situation, I have no choice.
“The second floor I use for storage. It is a bit messy.” I reach the second floor and find that this floor is for storing baking ingredients. As long as they are not baked and ready to eat, I am not interested. So I follow him up to the third floor, until I see a large wooden door that the owner unlocks and enters.
Gasp
Good Lord! It is like a condo!
Who would think that above a cake shop would be such a beautiful room, fully furnished with built-in furniture. There is a complete set of furniture, not to mention the large glass window that lets bright light stream in, making the room feel warm. It is decorated with pictures and ornaments that make this room even more livable. But it does not look too neat like in magazines, because there is still a shirt draped on the sofa, and foreign recipe books with bookmarks on the coffee table.
I think what I have described is amazing, but the most amazing thing is that this upper floor is open between the third and fourth floors!
This building does not seem to have a separate fourth floor. It is more like a loft, because between the two floors there is no ceiling separating them. There is only a modern, pure black wooden staircase leading up to the loft. Everything is open and airy. There is a railing along the edge of the loft, which I guess must be the bedroom. And...
“The bathroom is on this floor.” Pong has already led the way up to the loft, so I have to point in another direction.
“Then what about that bathroom?”
I am not crazy (?) enough to follow him into the bedroom.
“The floor below only has a toilet. You cannot shower there.”
Okay, reason accepted. I can follow him up.
In the end, I still grab the stair railing and go up to the loft. And I find that... How rich must this guy be to make a room this damn beautiful?
The upper room is indeed the bedroom as I thought. But there is no door, no walls. It is an open space that lets you look down and see the living room and open kitchen below. The bed is a stylish low-floor type that can fit a mattress about thirteen inches thick. The fact that it looks close to the floor makes it even more inviting to just lie down on. Especially with the blanket tossed aside carelessly like that. On one side of the bed is a low table for placing things. A little further is the bathroom.
I am relieved that he is not so hardcore as to have the bathroom wall open; it still has sections to block the view from outside. Next to it is a built-in wardrobe that the room owner is opening, searching for a towel and clean clothes for me.
“Can you, Gok, wear my shirt?”
“Are you going to say I am short?”
I am not picking a fight, but because I am teased often, I am a bit secretly annoyed. Pong immediately turns to look at my face, then shakes his head vigorously.
“No. I mean, do you, Gok, mind wearing my clothes?”
Duh, hit with that one. So awkward.
My face immediately falls. I misunderstood completely, thinking he would tease me. Just look, his body is quite big, much taller than me. Ordinary people would definitely tease me, saying I could not wear his clothes. Who would think he was concerned about whether I minded or not? So I...
Snatch
... grab the shirt in his hand.
“Why would I mind you? Just letting me take a shower is a kindness already. Can I use the bathroom?”
“Please, go ahead... Can you walk?” See, he is still concerned.
“I did manage to walk up four floors.” So I raise my eyebrows at him, making a boastful face, wanting to get rid the strange atmosphere. And I get called an annoying fucker, but the point is, no, Pong just laughs softly. Do you understand? He laughs in his throat, letting out a deep, soft sound to attack me. Then he reaches out and places his hand on my head.
"Very good, good youth... I will come up to treat your wound later. I need to go down and help downstairs."
I should shake my head and escape, right? But I am stunned from the words 'good youth'. I can only watch as the person goes to the wardrobe, takes off his shirt very quickly, making my eyes widen.
No, I am not going to scream like those women who suddenly see a sun-tanned back. I just feel... damn, it is worth nuzzling!
Why does a grown man's back look so wide!
I think since I met this Pong guy, I really cannot think good thoughts.
Gulp
Let me die. I swallow my saliva very heavily, for real.
I quickly avert my face as he swiftly puts on a shirt, grabs a white apron that looks like those worn by chefs on TV, and quickly walks downstairs. But before I turn to go shower...
“Gok.”
“Hmm?” I lean my head over the railing to look down. I see Pong putting on the apron over his t-shirt, looking up and smiling at me.
“I do not think you, Gok, are short.”
My eyes go blank for a moment hearing the word 'short', but...
“I think you, Gok, are quite cute and endearing.”
That shop owner guy says only that and then leaves, leaving me... gaping.
Are you crazy? "Who... who is cute? Who is endearing? What guy likes to be praised as cute!"
You, Gok, are you crazy? Why the hell are you smiling after being praised as cute!
I try to pull the corners of my mouth down, mumbling to myself.
“Wait, wait, this 'endearing' person is going to steal everything from the room. How dare he let a stranger into his room?”
But it is strange, huh? Why can I not stop smiling at the words of a stranger?
“Hah. This is the most comfortable.”
After showering until perfectly clean, I feel comfortable. I walk out of the bathroom using a towel to dab the water on my head and carrying my dirty clothes, feeling at ease. Even though there is a small annoyance when I look in the mirror.
Am I too little, or is his shirt too big?
I think I got a t-shirt to change into. But because of the shirt's Western size or something, normally I wear a men's size S, or at best an M, this shirt feels long, covering down to my thighs. Even though I am wearing my trusty boxers, the hem of the boxers is only a little bit longer.
Damn it. “Well, you took all of Phô's height,” I sarcastically said, making my Phîi in Khon Kaen sneeze.
My Phô is a big man, but my Mâe is not even 160 cm tall. I got everything from my Mâe, both my face and my height.
“Whatever. And how am I going to get back?”
Right, how to get back, when the pants Pong lent me are ridiculously long.
They are drawstring elastic waist pants. But because our heights are so different, Pong probably wears them to his knees, but on me they are long, making me look huge. They also scrape the wound and are extremely ugly. So I did not wear them at all. Anyway, I am an eighteen-year-old young man who cares about his image. I would rather go home in pants that smell than look like a youth who stole his Phô's pants to wear.
“And what should I do now?”
That is it. I have finished showering, but the room owner has not returned. When I look down at my wound, I see the skin is scraped off, revealing the bright red flesh inside. Blood is still seeping out. My shin is bruised with green marks that will probably change color soon. I do want to treat the wound, because I am not afraid of Betadine. It stings, true, but it happens often so I am used to it. It also makes the wound dry quickly. But I do not dare to rummage through the room of someone I have just met for the second time.
Grumble grumble grumble
"And I'm fucking hungry!"
Oh, I am a teenager who can eat four or five times a day. Before dinner, I usually eat something in front of the school. But today, nothing has reached my stomach besides lunch. So I am hungry. And because I am hungry, my nose works better than normal.
Sniff sniff
“Does the smell reach all the way up here?”
I hate that I am salivating already when I catch a faint whiff of sweet pastry that must be floating up from downstairs. It speeds up the production of digestive fluids. I can only rub my stomach softly, but I do not dare go down and raid the refrigerator.
“It really smells good.”
At first I did not notice, but with nothing to do, I breathe in the scent deeply, feeling the faint sweet fragrance floating in the room. And it makes me feel strangely hot, as if being lured by a mysterious fragrance toward lust.
Fine, I do not need to say it nicely. I am horny. Satisfied?
I think the smell seems to be floating from the loft area. So I float like a ghost, my nose searching for the scent. And it is... coming from the laundry basket.
Rustle
Sniff sniff
“It is definitely from this!”
I grab a blue shirt from the basket of worn clothes. And do not call me psychotic, but I bring the worn shirt up to smell. And it is very much it. The scent seems to be a strong vanilla that makes my nose go crazy.
It is not that I dislike it, but it is very fragrant. Fragrant in a... provocative way.
I wonder if Pong spilled vanilla scent on his shirt. But I do not want to find the answer. I only know that the intense fragrance is filling my nostrils. I let myself slump down to sit on the floor. One hand brings the shirt close to the tip of my nose, inhaling it deeply. Meanwhile, my other hand is rubbing and circling around my lower abdomen. And I can tell you... it is arousing.
Just me touching my own stomach is arousing.
I bite my own lip. I glance down downstairs a bit, justifying to myself that the shop owner must be very busy. So if I kill some time, it should not be wrong. So I manage to pull my boxers down to my hips, forgetting the fact that I am using his shirt to heighten the mood. Then...
Grab
Of course. I am gripping my son full-handed.
“Why does it smell like this?” I inhale the scent deeply, feeling the surging emotions building in my body. The more I grip my son, as is typical for a teenager who cannot control his lower half well, the more I feel electric shocks everywhere. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I feel sweat seeping out.
“Mmm, ah... ” I moan softly in my throat. I look down and find that my thing is already hard. I have to grip it, squeeze it, jerk it, and slowly stroke up and down. I look at the deep red tip poking out from above the foreskin. I bite my own lip firmly. No, I am biting Pong's shirt. Then I move both hands to hold my son.
With one hand I stroke, with the other I flick the red head. To be honest, it is extremely arousing. So arousing that I accidentally open my mouth and let out a moan.
Thump
When I open my mouth, the shirt falls to the floor. This bothers me because the intense fragrance that was stimulating my mood is gone. So I stop caring about where I am. I just want to stroke while the mood is damn right like this.
Whoosh
I immediately take off my boxers and leave them beside me. I place Pong's shirt on the floor. I sit supporting myself on my heels and then... bury my face into the shirt in that position.
“Hah... sniff Hah... Arousing... it's so arousing.”
I do not realize that I am in a position with my butt arched toward the sky. Only the front part of my body is pressed against the floor, which is filled with the fragrant scent. Meanwhile, my two hands are playing with my son happily, both stroking, flicking, and rubbing all over, until the shirt I am wearing rides up to my waist.
I like flicking the head. It sends shivers through my whole body.
“Ah, ooh, it's so damn arousing.”
I mumble to myself. I want it so much that my hips are shaking all over. My two hands are holding my own wet shaft. I use the slickness from my own pre-cum to lubricate it all over. The slicker it gets, the hornier I become, until the back of my neck and my entire back are damp with sweat. My face tries to bury itself deeper into the shirt. I lick my own lips, feeling intensely desirous.
“Ah... ah... ooh... ooh... ”
That is all I can really moan. I am using my finger to rub the hole at the tip. I flinch until my body shudders. I pant more heavily than before. My other hand moves more vigorously than at first. And I blame my crazy horniness, because I...
Grab
"Mmph"
This kind of fabric is just right!!
I am truly shameless now. I shift to sit cross-legged again. I arrange to use the shirt to cover my son. Then I use that same Pong shirt to stroke up and down on my thing. The more the fabric rubs against my son, the more aroused I become, until I speed up my hand even more. That is not enough.
I am still bowing my own head down. I inhale the scent that now fills my nose completely, a blend so potent it is like a top-tier sex stimulant. I feel that it is close, so close I cannot help but think, is this a vanilla scent or the smell of a sex stimulant?
Thump-thump-thump-thump
"Ahhh... Ungh... Oyy... I am going to burst... I am going to burst... Haa!!!"
My entire body shakes. I collapse to lie down on the floor. I let out a muffled groan in my throat, completely drained of strength.
"Hahk... Hahk... Hahk... "
I pant for breath in my throat. My eyes are drowsily closed as I savor the bliss of reaching heaven. My body shakes all over. I throw my body down to lie flat. I moan uh in my throat. When I stroke my hand for the last time, my fluid spurts out and messes on the shirt and on the floor as if I am exhausted.
Hack hack hack...
I pant for breath in my throat. I close my eyes blissfully. I savor the happiness of ascending to heaven. Then I return to face the hell that I have done.
"I feel ultimate pleasure," I say in a muffled voice. I smile dreamily. I grab the same shirt up just as my eyes look at the cloudy fluid that messes on it.
Then...
Huuoooo. Has my lasciviousness advanced to this level already or what?
I took someone else's shirt to sniff until I finished!
I want to die. But before I can even think of a plan, before I can even grab my boxers to put them on...
Adddd
"How are you doing, Nong Gok?"
Shit-lizard, no!!!
My eyes fly wide open the instant I hear the sound of the door opening.
I am so startled that my body moves faster than my brain.
Slam!!!
I crawl on all fours at lightning speed back into the bathroom. I slam the door shut loudly, while firmly clutching the shirt that is the prime piece of evidence. But... I forget the boxers.
What do I do? What do I do!?!
I can only ask myself this as I look down at my body, which has only two shirts. One is on me, but the other... is stained with a thick, sticky residue of semen.
What must I do to escape this precarious situation that I have created!
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