#Kok Fuk Hoe

[mybukz]

Pride Month Fiction: The Checkered Shirt of Benny Khoo and the Salmon Sampin of Adam Tan by Kok Fuk Hoe

Finally, I got to know Mr Benny. The one Ms Sophia praised over and over during my interview.

It was the first day of school. Teachers and students were coming in and out from the staffroom but I couldn’t be bothered. Things were piling up on my plate. However, I was eager to find out about Mr Benny. Ms Sophia, the human resource manager, had told me about him while explaining my contract—apparently Mr Benny was the only teacher offered a permanent position before the six-month probation. He seemed to possess some supreme teaching methods that wowed his students—he managed to nail a place in this distinguished school in just two months!

This morning I was thrilled—his name plate sat on the table behind mine. I was sure when he came in, he would notice someone new. Even more so when I was sitting right behind him, back to back.

I felt the chair behind me lean against mine. I smiled and got ready to expect some welcome, maybe a grin and motivation. But nothing happened. I stood up and turned around.

“Hi, I am Adam. Nice to know you. I am the new teacher.” I proffered my hand to the back of his head.

He was eating yoghurt and looking at his laptop screen. I reached out for his shoulder. He stiffened, frowned and darted a glance at my hand. He didn’t seem to like talking to me. But darn it, I had expected him to talk to me.

I withdrew my hand; I had been too forward. Then he got up. He went to the fridge and came back with another yoghurt. I stood looking like an idiot.

Then he turned around, looked at me, and shook my hand, limply. “Nice to know you too, and…Welcome to the school.”

I smiled a thanks despite the rudeness. “I teach English as a Second Language for the Year 8 classes. How about you?”

“Year 9. English as a First Language.” Benny remained straight-faced as he stuck one earphone into an ear.

His etiquette fazed me. “Ms Sophia kept mentioning your name during my interview. You must be a very famous teacher.”

“Nah, they’re just exaggerating. You just do what you have to do.”

His replies were short and he didn’t care to talk more. His eyes kept going back to his screen; he wanted to continue watching ice hockey. I quickly ended our conversation and turned back to my desk. I felt cheated by Ms Sophia’s description. This Mr Benny was worse than his yoghurt. At least yoghurt tasted sour— he was just plain cold.

*

It wasn’t hard to glean more about Mr Benny since we worked in the same department and shared the same staffroom. Except for his gravelly Canadian accent (I loved it!), I found out he was just weird.

Benny usually clocked in fifteen minutes later than me. He would have a cup of black coffee—those paper cup instant coffee from 7-Eleven—and some sandwich made of wheat bread. His breakfast routine had to be accompanied by watching his favourite ice hockey show. Finishing his food, he would pump two drops of sanitiser to clean his hand. He never joined anyone for lunch; he brought some delicate-looking meals in a jar, or some steamed corn, or some purplish salad, and of course, there was this cleaning his hand with sanitiser after his meals.

I had never seen him go to a toilet. All he did was teach in the classroom or sit in his cubicle watching ice hockey or sometimes marking exercise books. Mr Benny didn’t talk much to anyone. He would skip reliefs or after-school meetings. And the strangest thing? No one dared talk about this to him. Not even the Head of Secondary.

I couldn’t hide my curiosity about this Chinese Canadian guy. As soon as I adapted to the school, I started asking around about him.

“Why is Benny never joining us for lunch? It is free though.”

“I guess he can’t adapt to Malaysian food. He is an ang mo lah! The foreigners’ stomach can’t hold our curry and spices,” Mr Loke answered. He had straggly hair, taught mathematics.

“But he has been here for seven years and his wife is Malaysian. He should be able to adapt to the food here. It’s not like the school is cooking spicy food all the time. He can eat Chinese food. He is a Chinese after all. Come on,” Mr Goh chimed in, while serving a spoonful of chap chye into his mouth. He was artistic, taught arts and craft.

“He is a C-A-N-A-D-I-A-N, Mr Goh. It is more atas or high-class to be identified that way,” Mr Loke scoffed, failing to hide his sarcasm.

“I guess his wife prepares his food then?”

“Oh yes. His wife worked in this school last time but she resigned after they married. She is a nyonya,” Mr Loke continued to tell me more.

I frowned, I couldn’t understand how Benny’s life worked. “But Peranakan food is made up of tonnes of local spices and is mostly spicy and pungent in smell. So how did he survive the marriage?”

“Adui, Adam, you single people won’t understand this. You will do everything if you are in love. And obviously in his case, his wife loves him more than he does. And come to think of it, it actually saves a lot of time to prep him an overnight oat rather than cooking a decent meal. No one loves cooking these days. Not even my wife,” Mr Goh continued chewing the school food.

Mr Loke ranted, “His wife is the one who chased after him last time. I can’t deny that when I first knew Benny, his Canadian accent really attracted me but well, I am a man. But Jesus, I had no fucking idea that he is so lazy. He skips meetings and events, and he doesn’t even care about his homeroom. Handsome guy is pretty useless, huh?”

“But why the school likes him so much?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he is an ang mo?”

Or maybe it was because of his Canadian accent.

Or maybe Benny looked extremely hot for an Asian: only five feet tall, slim, inimitable foreign accent. God, he looked hot in Doc Martens leather boots. Could Asians carry it off with leather?

Or maybe Benny was hot because he didn’t give a fuck about anything in the school. I guessed you’d look cool when everyone was busy pleasing the students, parents and management and you decided not to follow the trend. Instead you just acted like a real man. And real man takes risks. And Benny was a real man.

Or maybe he fucked Ms Sophia? Was Ms Sophia his wife? Because it would make sense since Ms Sophia was always raving about him being an awesome teacher and whatnot. Or maybe Ms Kelly, our Head of Department. Or Ms Vijay, the Head of Secondary.

I didn’t know the answers.

*

A week before the midterm-cum-Raya holidays, I decided to put on a black baju Melayu. I matched it with a salmon sampin, and completed my look with a songkok. I looked like a real Malay whenever I put on the costumes because of my skin colour.

I am a Chinese as you can tell from my name, Adam Tan. However, my dark skin is not a result of sunburn or sun tan. I inherited this beautiful skin colour from my Chinese and Indonesian Chinese ancestors. We are the Chinese Peranakan, or the baba nyonya, an ethnic group fast disappearing because people no longer cross cultures.

It is confusing and sometimes, shocking, to not know how to respond to an entity that doesn’t truly belong to anyone and anywhere. Just like Benny—he was Chinese Canadian but he didn’t know how to speak Chinese like Mr Loke and Mr Goh. He married a Malaysian but had problems eating Malaysian food. And the most confusing thing was, he spoke good English. Asians don’t speak good English, they say.

Thus, everyone liked to stay the same because it was easier that way. Even in the workplace. Except Benny, of course.

Everyone was at the lounge, laughing, taking pictures and chit-chatting away. There was no food; it was still five days away before our Muslim colleagues stopped observing fasting and celebrated the Raya celebration.

As usual, Benny was never keen to join in the fun. He didn’t care about celebrations. I was surprised he put an appearance now. He had put on his usual checkered shirt—this time, in black and white—and leather boots. I ignored him and turned my back to him.

Someone patted my shoulder. I turned around and was taken aback to find Benny talking to me. To little old Adam.

“Hey Adam, you look exceptionally sharp today.” I was still in shock, I couldn’t process his words suddenly.

“Oh yeah. Thank you. Have you tried wearing such a costume? It is comfortable.” I smiled, awkwardly, like a little child.

“No. I never wore them before.”

“You should try one day. It is—”

“Hey Adam, I need a favour from you.”

I knew it. He was up to no good. He talked to me simply because he needed something.

“How can I help you?” My face had changed from awkward to looking flustered.

He looked hesitant for a moment. “My car broke down this morning and I couldn’t go back today.”

“You want me to send you back?” I was one step close to exploding if the answer was yes.

“No. Can I stay at your place before my wife picks me up this evening? I heard that you are living somewhere around Puchong. I stay in Puchong. You don’t have to send me back.”

My anger diminished. At least he knew it would be a bad idea for me to send him back. He was never part of us, and he never wanted it, I guess.

*

I had just entered my room when Benny knocked on my door.

“Do you need anything? If not, let me change myself before I—”

Benny pressed his lips onto mine. They were soft and moist. I kissed him back, like a hungry beast, devouring his saliva, tongue, and lips. My cock in my pants was filling up with blood.

But I pulled back. “What the fuck is this, Benny?” I was huffing and puffing from the kiss.

“I knew you like me.” The sentence sounded racy in his ang mo accent.

“How did you know?”

“I just know.” He looked down. “Are those stains from your cum? Imagining me fucking you every night?” He sneered. “You do, don’t you?”

Benny hoisted me with strong hands and threw me onto the bed. Why was this happening? But, fuck, was I going to savour this moment. I licked my lips as Benny’s body—and his dick—hunkered over me.

Benny tore at the buttons from his shirt, and hurled his clothes to the floor. This was the first time I saw his body—lean and fit. His nipples were big and dark, and there was hair all the way down from his belly button to the place I wanted to visit the most. Sexy.

He straddled my lithe body, and unravelled my tight sampin. He leaned down and I savoured his kiss, and breathed in his body odour. I wasted no time fumbling at his belt—I wanted to taste his dick.

Soon, my sampin was flung to the floor. And in no time, my baju Melayu, sampin, and undies, along with his shirts and pants, decorated the floor. I felt masculinity suffuse me—the tight stomach squashing me, the hard pecs, the nipples, the big balls. I reached down to grip him—his dick was huge. What a contradiction from his slender body—was that why he attracted us? I was dying to suck his dick, like a hungry baby craving for tits.

I moaned, breathed heavily, my body arched up, twitching—his fingers were caressing my nipples, pulling them, twisting them. I stroked my dick while his thick shaft stayed in my mouth. He thrust his dick against my mouth. When he drew it out, I licked the purplish head. Was I tasting my saliva or his pre-cum? At this rate I didn’t care—my pre-cum had doused my dick, I couldn’t wait to have Benny in me.

Benny flipped me over. He was ready with a condom. He must have come prepared with it in his pants pocket. He rolled it over his cock with skill. (And practice?) He held my legs up in the air. I begged him to shove it in. I needed pounding. Hard.

I moaned louder. I couldn’t stop crying out his name. I had never felt anything this intense. Not since becoming a teacher, a job that drained my energy having to man up all the time in front of the classroom. Now, I wanted to be punished. I wanted to be conquered. My body longed to be controlled and Benny was doing a great job. (I nearly giggled—as good a job as his teaching.)

I moaned every time Benny pounded into me and slapped my butt and uttered nasty words. Slut. Horny dog. Slave, Benny my master. I begged for more. This was my primal self. I needed an alpha male (with a sexy Canadian accent) to take charge, especially in bed. As if agreeing to submit, my dick rose higher, grew harder. Its hole overflowed every time Benny’s gigantic dick locked fiercely and tightly into my asshole. I didn’t mind dying under such circumstances. I was blessed to be pounded by such a huge dick—more so as its owner was skilled.

It seemed surreal when we both reached orgasm together. We huffed and gasped for air, surfacing for consciousness after shooting loads of cum. Benny didn’t pull his dick out; he remained inside, lying on top of me. I hugged and kissed him, feeling his heartbeat synchronising with mine. Between the layer of his sweat and my cum, I knew I wanted him.

“Why this?” I asked. “Why now?”

“You looked sexy in your sampin today. And I just wanted to fuck you. I love exotic creatures.” Benny grinned.

“Wow, I am offended, Benny. My sampin is short because I am single. Those who are married will wear their sampin below the knees. I don’t mean to look sexy.” And with mock offense, “I am not some exotic creature.”

“Well, that’s why I am attracted to you, little Adam. You look cute whenever you are annoyed.”

Benny kissed my lips. I knew we were alike—misfit, eccentric, offbeat. We didn’t really belong anywhere, or maybe the universe had yet to categorise people like us since we could be anything and everything we wanted to be. Benny didn’t give a shit about anything and I too didn’t give a shit about everything.

And this meant one thing: Benny wouldn’t give a shit about our status after this evening.

*

It was the first day of school after the holidays. I arrived at 5.30a.m. as usual, and it was dark.

I walked down the corridor. I saw the staffroom was already lit up. Someone had come in earlier.

I walked towards the staffroom. Two silhouettes were framed behind the glass door. I held my breath and slowed my footsteps. I didn’t want to alert these figures.

I leaned nearer to the door, squinted into the half-lit room. To my horror, I made out Benny humping someone at the lounge.

Damn it, I knew it. He didn’t give a fuck about anything. He would fuck anything. I clenched my fist. Who was that under him?

I couldn’t see; the lounge was not in the light. All I could make out was Benny’s top half.

I stood on tiptoes, and stretched my neck to see if a girl or boy. It was all shadows but I could spy Benny’s dick moving in and out between the legs.

But wait, where were Benny’s legs? He was standing, wasn’t he?

Benny turned around and locked eyes with me. They were dark and hollow. He smirked and the lights went off.

* This is Kok Fuk Hoe’s first attempt at writing erotica. He welcomes any comments from readers. He will answer any questions.