All sorts of expatriate “characters” gravitated to Bangkok, Thailand, in the seventies and eighties, and none were more colorful than the man known simply as Cowboy. Cowboy was a six-and-a-half foot black American stud, who was said to have been a pro basketball player of some note who had retreated to Bangkok in the face of possible charges for point shaving and racketeering. In Bangkok, Cowboy had built a small empire of girlie bars in the Phatpong tenderloin district, the most notable one of which was named, appropriately enough, Cowboy’s.

There were a few legends about Cowboy. One was that he had the biggest dick in Thailand, which was given some evidence by the women who buzzed around him looking very satisfied. The second was that he would fuck anything that moved, which was at least partially evidenced by the men who buzzed around him as well. And the third was that he never took off his signature ten-gallon hat, chaps, or spurs, even during sex.

Cowboy was one of the most happy-go-lucky, witty, and generous people in the international community, and those who knew him reacted well to him no matter how much effort they had to put into ignoring his past and his reputation.

A few months into my tour as an SR71 photoreconnaissance jet driver living in Bangkok, I decided I’d like to check out the legend of Cowboy. I joined the U.S. embassy’s bowling league just because he was on it, and I got as close to his inner circle there as possible. Eventually, he invited me to come up and see him sometime at his flagship Cowboy’s bar. As, at the time of the invitation, he had his hand under a table exploring my basket, I didn’t have any illusions what his invitation entailed. This suited me just fine, of course, and I wasted no time in scooting over to Cowboy’s to see him one afternoon in the next week.

When I walked into Cowboy’s, I was told that Cowboy was in his office on the second floor and to go on up. Cowboy’s office was a pretty good-sized room, with a desk and other office equipment at one end and a double bed with a red velour bedspread at the other end.

Cowboy was home, as was a dreamy-eyed woman with long, frizzed-up blonde hair and big tits. Cowboy was lying on the bed, feet pointed at me. He was wearing his ten-gallon hat and his boots with spurs, but that was all, so at least the part of the legend of the chaps was false. The blonde was sitting astride his pelvis, with her tits also pointed at me. I therefore couldn’t check out the legend of the biggest dong in Thailand, at least for the moment, because the blonde was sitting on it.

She looked vaguely familiar to me, and it slowly dawned on me that she was the wife of one of the U.S. embassy’s economic affairs officers. She’d bowled a 280 on the last league night, and, I understand, had gone out on a celebration binge and hadn’t been seen for two days. It had taken me a few minutes to recognize her, because the economic affairs officer’s wife I’d known had always been wearing clothes, and this woman was naked. Really nice tits, though.

When I walked in, Cowboy had his hands on her hips and was helping her to have a bouncy ride on his lap. They both seemed happy to see me, though,