My apologies to all my readersfor the delay in posting chapter three. Life tends to get in the way
I awoke from a very deep sleep. Marge had a new spring in her step and she was making our morning coffee while whistling a little tune.
"Good morning honey!" she smiled, as she poured the coffee into two cups and brought them over. She handed me one then sat down on her side of the bed.
"What would you like to do today Fred?"
"I thought we had that settled Marge. We're going to go to Walking Street."
"We're not doing that until tonight honey.. We have all day together on our own."
"Oh yeah! Well, I suppose we could do some shopping too. We could look for a sexy outfit so you can look your best for Hans. Maybe he'll finally fuck you and put you out of your misery tonight."
Marge blushed and giggled.
"I'm lucky you're such an understanding husband. Fred, you can do anything you like tonight too. It was selfish of me to think that I should be the only one allowed to fool around."
"Good girl Marge, you've come a long way since we arrived in Pattaya! Now let's call room service and order some breakfast. I'm starving!"
After breakfast, we called a cab and set off to do some shopping. Marge spotted a promising looking boutique, and thankfully it had air conditioning because the heat was beginning to get to me. The sales girl saw me standing there sweating and brought me a chair while Marge tried on a few outfits.
Finally, Marge chose a little black dress with a plunging neckline. The dress emphasized every curve and was so tight I could practically make out every hair on Marge's pussy. The sales girl suggested Marge would look even better without a bra, so she returned to the change room and a couple of minutes later, strutted back out bra-less.
She looked so sexy, and her nipples stuck out so much I almost came on the spot. She had added gold hoop earrings, a wide black patent leather belt that came to just below her boobs, and a pair of matching black five-inch pumps. She looked perfect for our night on Walking Street.
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That evening we met our German friends down in the hotel lobby and Hans insisted we share a couple of bottles of wine before we set off. By the time our taxi dropped us off at our destination we were already well underway.
Looking like high-class call girls, the three women were having a good time showing off their bodies. Frieda wore tight white shorts and a see thru black mesh top, while Anika sported pigtails and plaid knee socks and wore a short green pleated skirt and a white frilly blouse knotted under her tits.
Hans had brought his movie camera so he recorded us all laughing and singing as we passed arm in arm under the trademark curved wrought iron sign that marked the entrance to Pattaya's notorious Walking Street.
The place was a far cry from anything we had back in Connersville. Connersville had one adult video store hidden away in the sleazier part of town and that was about it but Walking Street was a virtual Sodom and Gomorrah. I'd seen a lot in my old navy days but nothing compared to this. Packed with degenerates, the street's numerous beer bars and clubs teemed with ladies of the night and pleasure seekers from all over the globe.
We gawked at beautiful lady boys strutting by arm in arm with muscular male companions while legless beggars scuttled between our legs on crude homemade skateboards. Hawkers cried out, offering live 'pussy shows' to grinning Oriental tourists and surly looking Arabs in flowing robes. Our mouths hung open as a toothless old Brit missing an arm and a leg hopped by, helped along by a Thai girl young enough to be his granddaughter. No one batted an eye at the monkey perched on his shoulder. Hans grinned and took us by the arm.
"Come, you two," he said. "You haven't seen anything yet. Wait until you see the club that we're going to!"
We followed him down a narrow passageway and up two flights of stairs, and then stopped in front of a small altar consisting of a large carved wooden penis dotted with squares of gold leaf, and surrounded by burning offerings of sandalwood incense. Hans pulled open a filthy tattered curtain concealing the entrance to a smoky darkened lounge and an unshaved, seedy looking old Thai came shuffling over to us.
"Good see you again Boss!" he grinned, displaying a mouthful of decaying teeth "Want usual table?"
"Yah Somchai!" Hans had to yell to be heard over the clubs deafening music. "Bring us cold Schnapps"
"No ploblem boss! No ploblem!"
The old man known as Somchai shouted at two shifty looking Thais eating noodles at a table near the clubs small stage and clapped his hands.
"Go quick! Get Mr. Kessler's special bottle and shot glasses!"
The men nodded deferentially at Hans, hurriedly leapt to their feet with their noodles, and vanished into the back of the club. After Somchai had wiped the table off with a greasy rag, he motioned for us all to sit down. He stared at Marge until she blushed and looked down, then he spoke to Hans.