It's no wonder Bangkok is the worlds most visited city. Friendly people, beautiful weather, good food, cheap beer and no shortage of things to see.
And the hoes. So, so many hoes! I love the whole of South East Asia but whenever I'm travelling I make sure I drop by Bangkok for at least a week. I leave with my wallet a little lighter but my cock very thoroughly sucked. They call this country the 'land of smiles', and it never fails to leave me with a smile on my face.
There's nowhere else in the world quite like it. Back home the good old days of getting away with unreconstructed bawdy behavior are long gone. I miss those days when you could get away with slapping your secretary on the ass or even coercing the intern into a stockroom cupboard blowjob. These days you make a single un-PC joke and you can end up with a sexual harassment lawsuit.
Not so in Bangkok. Here, cock is still king. Or, to be completely accurate, cash is king. But keep enough cash on you and the ladies will be lining up to do whatever you wish of them, usually for a very reasonable price.
I am stationed in the Nana Hotel, so chosen because it's just a street away from all the action of Nana Plaza and 'guests' are very welcome to stay. It's my last day here and I've already visited a couple of temples and gardens, enough to convince myself that I'm some sort of proper 'traveler'. Soon I will be stepping back outside to sample the heady pleasures of Bangkok's nightlife for one last evening.
But first, I'm having just a quiet drink on my own at the hotel bar, and feeling like some company. Not just the company of a beautiful young Thai woman with long legs, full breasts and a deep mouth. That is guaranteed to come later. I'm looking for the company of my own kind, which is, let's face it, a seedy sex tourist with just one thing on their mind. I'm looking for a partner in crime, and I'm sure this bar is the best place to find it. Ninety percent of the men in this hotel must be here for the very same reason as I am. I've already seen some of them pass in the corridors with a beautiful brown skinned lady, likely half their age and half their weight, wrapped around their arm. I smile knowingly at them as they pass. Some hurriedly walk past, embarrassed by what they're up to. Others give a knowing smile and nod back.
I'm not looking to make any real friends here. None of this 'we must keep in touch' or 'let's add each other on facebook'. Just someone to share the very best of what Thailand's nights have to offer, and then we go our separate ways.
I got chatting to a couple of blokes last night before suggesting we make a tag team of it. One man muttered 'not my thing.' Another had claimed, very unconvincingly, to be on a business trip.
Tonight just one other is sitting at the bar. I raise my half-drunk beer to him. "Having fun?"
It's a rhetorical question. I saw him disappear into his room last night with the sweetest looking girl in high heels, mini skirt and a top barely containing her tits. He smiles and raises his glass. "Sure am."
"You here on your own?"
"Yep. And you?"
"The same. Well, not alone for long. You know how it is."
He chuckles. He looks to be around fifty; slim build, balding, a pair of spectacles. We get chatting. His name is Phil, and it's no surprise to learn he's an accountant.
We sip our drinks and compare notes on the sex shows and go-go bars before I casually ask him, "Phil, have you ever tag teamed a girl?"
"What, like two guys, one girl?"
"You're right," I tell him, "one girl isn't enough. Two guys, two girls."
I see the flicker of recognition on his face as he realizes I'm making a proposition rather than just chitchat. But to his credit, and my relief, he doesn't seem especially shocked.
"You got two girls in mind?"
"Not yet, but they're easy enough to find."
Phil takes a sip of his beer as he considers. "If you're paying..." he says cautiously.
I raise my beer bottle. "It's all on me."
He thinks about it for a few seconds more. "Oh hell, why not?!"
Fifteen minutes later we've stepped out into the warm muggy tropical air of a Bangkok evening. We walk down streets lined with neon lights and scantily clad women. The sound of pumping music and rowdy laughter drifts from the windows and doors of every establishment. Beautiful women try to tempt us into each place, but I already have my mind set on a go-go bar where I know we can rent girls by the hour.
I breeze in like I own the place and order a couple of beers, passing one to Phil. Within thirty seconds we are surrounded by half a dozen girls. They're various body shapes, ages and attractiveness, though in all fairness even the least attractive of them all would score a solid six. But with such a variety of choices we can afford to get choosy.
Phil gets chatting to couple of girls who are soon trying to convince him to buy them an overpriced drink. They seem to be genuinely enjoying the flirtatious conversation.
Once upon a time I wasn't too different, and on my first couple of visits to go-go bars I genuinely tried to impress the girls. But I soon realized they couldn't care less about where I'd traveled, what I did for a living or the charity work I did in my uni years. They only care about how deep my wallet is. And for my part I only care about how deep their throat is. There's a beautiful simplicity to the power dynamic.
I've long given up trying to charm them and have since taken up the opposite approach; what I call a 'charmless offensive'. I state straight away what I'm looking for and give them no illusions about the kind of treatment they'll be receiving. "I'm looking for two of you lovely ladies to come back with us and deepthroat our cocks," I announce bluntly, "maybe slap you around a bit. I have to warn you; we're not going to be nice."
One of the girls suddenly has a look of disgruntlement on her face, and clearly finding such forwardness off putting she slinks away to the back of the bar. Never mind, there's still plenty where she came from. If any of the woman here aren't willing to be used in the way I plan to use them, it's better to weed them out here than when back in the hotel room. I don't want a girl who suddenly starts freaking out the minute I get hardcore on her throat and runs out the door. So the five girls who remain are either willing to put up with such punishment for a price or either just don't have enough English to realize just what I've been saying.
One of the women gets closer. She's petite, with the shortest of skirts and breasts pushed up above a black lacy top. Her elfin like face is framed by a short pixie haircut. She's clearly the best at English of all the girls here, and she leans in to check what she thinks she heard.
"Slap and blowjob?" she enquires.
"Slap and facefuck," I say laughing, and to ensure she has the point I mime holding her head against my groin and slapping it about. Two of the girls look at each other with expressions of concern, but still hang around.
Phil looks a little embarrassed at my crude approach, but seems to quickly forgive me when he realizes that the girls aren't as put off by this as he previously might have thought. Surely all these prostitutes have been on the receiving end of some good old fashioned abuse at one point in their careers.
The English speaking girl with shorter hair leans in further. Her soft full breasts are now resting against my arm, and her hand is trailing along my leg and towards my already stiffening cock. "You can slap and facefuck me," she says, "for a good price." There's a sparkle and intelligence in her eyes.
It's on. I tell her we're in a hotel just round the corner. She names her price. I name a lower one. We go back and forth for a minute, by which time her hand has finished sliding across my leg and is now cupped over my growing erection. We settle on 2000 Thai Bhat for the hour. The only question left is who will be our second victim?