As inseparable as my camera and I are when traveling I seldom – like never – take photos of bar boys I’ve offed. Noom doesn’t count. He’s not just a paid for conquest. As for the rest, not all appreciate having their photo taken, especially since most customers want that shot showing everything they paid for. And even if they were all agreeable, where do you stop? Just the real hot – and talented – ones? Just those you still can’t believe actually allowed you to spend hours molesting them? If travel photography is supposed to be about memories of your trip, I guess it makes sense to return home with a few hundred photos of all the guys you did on holiday if you spent your nights and days rutting your way through Bangkok. But some of those guys were probably duds. And who wants a memory of that?

One night at Dick’s Cafe I ended up sharing a table with a fellow traveler. It was the easiest way out over what otherwise could have been an argument over who got the next empty table. We hit it off and spent a few hours after dinner enjoying the gogo bars on Soi Twilight. At some point, we started trading bad bar boy tales, stories of those who’d been duds. He’d had one just the night before. The guys was hot, but way too aggressive in my new friend’s opinion. But the night wasn’t a total loss. He’d taken tons of photos of the boy, like almost of every square inch of the dude’s body. They’d already been downloaded to his computer, so I didn’t get to see any of them. But when he began describing the guy’s muscles our mutual admiration of built boys came to light and we headed to Tawan.

Nut, a bar boy I’ve written about before, one of those who eventually became a friend instead of just a sex object, was working that night and as soon as he saw me came running over for a big hug. My companion gave me a strange look. And then managed to find a free moment to say, “That’s the guy!”

Huh. Nut was a sweetheart. Aggressive was not an adjective I’d ever think to use about him. And his acknowledging nod to his customer of the night before said he hadn’t been any more thrilled with his customer than his customer had been with him. Nut too gave me a strange look. Probably needless to say, we split up soon thereafter. Like the companionship of another tourist ever stood a chance against Nut’s naked hotness

As soon as he left Nut asked if he was my friend. I explained we’d just met, had dinner, and that I really didn’t know him. But since Nut did, intimately, he immediately began recounting his view of the previous night. Most of which was pantomiming holding a camera to his face and going, “Click. Click. Click.” Again and again and again.

When we got back to my hotel room, I pulled my camera out as a joke. Nut got it. But also liked the idea of me taking a few shots of him. After he got naked. He didn’t want me taking any photos with both his face and cock in the shot. And didn’t want any of his cock taken until it was hard either. Nut was a grower, not a shower. He’d complained to me in the past about customers who wanted a peak and then wouldn’t off him if he’d been soft. Despite him telling them, as he’d put it, “It get big!”

He wasn’t lying. And big was an understatement. Watching that thing grow out to its full proportions was more amazing than any magic trick David Copperfield ever pulled.

Like with Noom, I have a lot of photos of Nut because we tended to do things outside of the bedroom too. Thanks to that tourist I met who thought he was a dud, I’ve got several of Nut in all his glory too. Just without a face attached. Those of just his cock are buried away somewhere on one of my storage drives. That never happened with this shot. And it does bring back memories of that trip. ‘Cuz it’s one of my favorite Kodak moments from Bangkok. And while I’m sure I didn’t take as many shots as that guy had the night before, I’m even more sure those photos I did take bring back a lot more pleasant memories than his.