Gay Boy Thailand

Duff was not good at confronting people. When he saw Larson sit by the pool, pretending to read a book while ogling the speedo boys, he wanted to tell the Swede what an unreliable gossip queen he was. But he could not bring himself to do it; at least not in the forceful manner he felt the situation demanded.

But Duff had to do something. Duff walked over to Larson with what he hoped was a disapproving expression on his face and sat down in a deck chair.

- Hello Duffy, said Larson cheerfully. - How are things?
- OK, said Duff in a frosty voice.
- I am glad to hear that. I am fine too. Did you get your shopping done?
- Yes.
- See? Just ask Larson and it shall all be explained, said Larson, smiling.
- Sure.
- What’s with you? Not in the mood today?
- Not really.
- What’s wrong? Had too much success last night?
- Not exactly.
- Just one of those days, eh?
This was too much for Duff. - I rather wish you didn’t tell others about it when I ask your advice in confidence.
- Excuse me?
- I was hardly out the door before you told Robert Miller. What did you do? Call him up just to inform him about the exciting news?
- I haven’t told anyone.
- So why does he know?
- Beats me. And why does it matter? Lots of people with… ahem… problems… use them.
- Oh please. You have no reason to be smug. You eat them like sweets yourself, I heard.
- What? I certainly don’t! Who said that?
- Never mind, said Duff. He got up and left the pool.