One morning I woke up Noom – my bar boy friend and current love of my life – with a blow job. Though ‘woke-up’ is a euphemism for both of us acknowledging he was awake. When we sleep together the least little unusual movement on my part brings him immediately to a state of alertness. I like to think that is because he is so attentive to my needs, but realize it probably has more to do with his history of sleeping with farang customers. If I were him I’d sleep with one eye open too.

But the blow job, coming from me first thing in the morning while his eyes were still closed, was unusual. Unlike what is probably true with far too many of his customers, I don’t usually molest him before he’s had the chance to greet the day. I let him shower first. Not that I’m adverse to morning sex. Even though the time of the day that qualifies as morning for us comes closer to qualifying as a nooner for most. It’s just that by the time we wake it’s a rush to get to breakfast. And then there’s things to do and places to see. Which leaves little time for people to do. Even though doing Noom is one of my favorite things. I’m not sure how Julie Andrews missed that one.

Regardless of the time the clock says it is, a blow job is a nice thing to wake up to. There aren’t many better ways to start your day than getting head. Some gay guys would argue giving head is a great way to begin your day too, but though I do suck dick – it’s kinda one of the things us gay guys do – I’m not one for whom life’s greater pleasure is having someone’s dick in my mouth. At a minimum, I like to be on a first name basis with a dick before I start deep throating it.

Not that there is anything wrong with guys for whom life is the pursuit of dick to suck. I’m thankful for the cock sucking lovers of the world – I am not as picky about who has my dick in their mouth as I am about whose is entering mine. For me though it is more about giving my partner pleasure than it is about unbridled joy at having a dick to suck. Though admittedly, it’s usually about nothing more than returning a favor.

Noom and I have spent enough mornings waking up next to each other to have developed a routine. Noom is big on traditions and routines. Like most guys he is also big on having his dick sucked. With us, come morning, his fondness for routine wins out over his enjoyment of a blow job. So on most mornings I wake up causing Noom to officially wake up (god knows how long he’s been laying there faking sleep). Then he leans over, kisses me, and says, “Good Morning!” In return, I scowl at him. Not because of anything he did but simply because that’s my natural reaction whenever I hear someone say good morning in a far too cheery voice. By then we both need to pee – and since beauty before age doesn’t apply to who gets first dibbs on the toilet, I plod off to the bathroom to give myself some relief for believing it is a good morning.

But on this morning I decided to give Noom a good reason for believing it was a good morning. I’m not sure why, I’m not sure what got into me. Other than Noom’s dick. Obviously. Not that having Noom’s dick in my mouth was unheard of; it’s been there before. Just not at the hour of the day. And Noom, with his eyes still closed, did what any man – straight, gay, or confused – does when he suddenly feels his cock engulfed in a warm, wet mouth. He smiled.

When you wake up to a blow job, smiling is the right response. A small groan of pleasure ain’t bad either. Noom did both. Then his training kicked in and he reached down to take matters in his own hand. Not quite getting the gay man’s fascination with dick, to Noom sex is about the end not the means. And from years of experience, he knows he is much more adept at providing a happy ending for himself than the one any other guy is capable of regardless of how proficient he may be at that task. When it is my orgasm that matters, I’m cool with that. But on this morning, for once, it was about him more than me. So I brushed his hand away and went back to work. He knew something was up. Besides his dick. And let a confused, pleased, and surprised exclamation of “Oh!” escape his mouth. I would have responded but mine was occupied.

It’s nice when your day is so free of plans and obligations that you can spend your morning giving the man you love the devotion he deserves. I suppose it’s even nicer being on the receiving end. Not that my initial intention of waking up Noom with a blow job had as its ulterior motive the design of planting a seed in his mind about future mornings and the spilling of my seed, but I do wish the boy could take a hint. But that’s about future mornings with the prospect of qualifying for once as good. On this morning, Noom’s pleasure was all that mattered. Which he finally got when after I’d brought him to climax he moved down to repay the kindness only to be stopped. “No,” I told him after spitting. “For you.”

For a self-labeled straight man, Noom has shared a hell of a lot of orgasms with other men. And has provided those joys without reciprocal treatment to many more. I’ve no doubt he has been on the receiving end before too thanks to those into muscle worship, but even when those end in an orgasm for him and not for his customer, they are still about the desires, pleasure, and needs of the farang and not Noom. Having someone give him a blow job for no other reason than to give him the pleasure of having his dick sucked was an unusual experience. And being the polite man that he is, after it’d finally sunk in, he responded appropriately. “Thank you,” – which with his accented English comes out as ‘Sank you’ – replaced his normal first utterance of the day of “Good Morning!” And was much more sincere.

Thais are not big on saying thanks. It’s a cultural thing. The best explanation I’ve heard for their lack in practicing what in the west is a normal social nicety is that it has something to do with Buddhism. Which some how translates into that by thanking someone for what they’ve done for you, you make their gesture about yourself instead of about the person whom you are thanking; by saying thanks you are stealing that person’s karmatic thunder, as it were. So by not saying thank you, you are actually honoring that person’s gesture more than you would by expressing your gratitude.

Noom seldom says thanks. No problemo. I don’t expect to be thanked when, for example, I’ve paid for dinner because I always pay for his food. Being the more financially well off of the two of us, it’s expected that I’ll pick up the tab. That too is a social norm for Thais. It’s almost an obligation. So why would you say thanks? Or expect to be thanked? At other times when a thank you seems more in order, well, there’s a wai for that. And that gesture holds far more sincerity than the thank you that trips from Westerners’ tongues with little thought or meaning.

There was a thread not long ago on one of the gay Thailand message boards about the Thai practice of not practicing saying thank you. It evidently bothers a lot of guys. Some reported they’d gone as far as demanding their boy du jour thank them for the little things they did which they felt the boy should be grateful to them for. Because forcing someone to thank you is the surest way to warm your heart. The discussion dwindled into a general agreement that those Thais who’ve been exposed to western ways have adopted our practice of saying thanks whether we really mean it or not. As they should. Because coming from the more developed nations our social norms should be the ones that count. Not those of the country we are visiting or have decided to make our home.

That morning Noom got an unexpected blow job from me, an uncommon but pleasurable gesture for that hour of the day (which the bastard has still not reciprocated). His sincere thanks was equally rare, but of the two probably meant more. And was, and is, the more memorable of the two. And for that, I thank him.

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