Going Postal and Laughing Lesbians
Whoohoo! Back in Pattaya! I'm going to try for more, shorter reports as they are less likely to digress into only vaguely related subjects like flying squirrel sex and hopefully unrelated ones like the toilets in Narita airport.
Took Mr. T from Suvarnabhumi to my latest experiment, the Talay 6 condos. Late night check-in was no problem: The guard just asked my first name and handed me the key thing. Nice place, but my unit has a lot of those incredibly tiny ants. On the brighter side, they ensured that I did not sleep alone on my first night. Lots of company.
Today I headed to the Bar de Poste for my first attempt at ejaculation involving someone other than my hand in the last few months. Transportation will be problematic this trip as my usual mode, the moto taxis, have helmets that were clearly designed for toddlers or perhaps daredevil hamsters. Usually they are good for a laugh as I jokingly pound them onto my head, but there is a complication: A bit of a history buff, three weeks ago I decided to learn more about the scalping thing. One thing I learned was that one should whenever possible do the scalping to someone else, though, frankly, after forty staples got put into my head I sort of lost interest in the whole idea. If anyone else is interested, the way to do it if you don't have sharp objects around is to fall backwards off a ladder from something over ten feet and break your fall with your head on a ledge.
As a side benefit I managed to damage my right hand in the experiment, so I was not able to practice a lot of sex before flying over. Some say that over-preparation is the cause of my repeated failures to launch. I'll find out soon. Yes, I did try the left hand but it did not turn out well. Just like the bizarre virgin attraction, I can say that going with the least qualified and experienced candidate is just plain not a good idea.
Well, we got through two paragraphs before a major digression. Better than my usual. At any rate, I was not about to pound Ken or Barbie's helmet onto my seriously nasty scabs, so I decided to hoof it. It was mid-afternoon. It was warm. I arrived a complete mess. Cold towelettes were heaped upon me. I was accosted by a chunky young thing. I figured what the hell: Start low and work my way up. By the time I leave I hope to be banging reasonably presentable partners. Hopes get crushed daily.
Eventually there was success, though I did get an assist. She had nice boobs one of the few benefits of chunkiness that may have been real. Lots of fun to play with to help things along. And damned nice targets, too. One odd thing that I do not recall from my visit last time: The payment system is different from my usual haunts, BJ bars like Bliss and The One Whose Name We Cannot Type Here. At the end of the session I tried to give her a tip, but she refused it with some rather confusing faux-English. I tried again, explaining that it was a tip. She finally took it but seemed troubled. Then, at checkout, I got a much smaller bill than expected. Their system is, I assume (still on my bucket list), like Soi 6 where you pay the bar for the room and the young (or not) lady (or not) for the services, not like the all-inclusive payout at, say, Bliss. I quickly handed over more money to Miss Fun Tits and was on my sweaty way.
A few hours later it was Walking Street time. As usual I started at Baccara to see the eye candy, then headed to more realistic pastures. Not much to write about. Not bad, not great. Popped into Heaven Above and found that they had added a lesbian show. I got seated in a prime viewing spot which was initially not a great coup as the "lesbians" were pretty industrial quality, kind of like they usually are at the Windmill, but there weren't any gynecology wannabes doing exams like there. I was quickly grabbed by the girl they sat me beside and eventually got her a drink, partly in hopes that it would reduce the stench of her breath, a stench that could actually work its way upwind.
Fortunately it was soon time for her to go sway on stage and, even better, the vaguely bovine lezzies were done with their flopping around. Even better yet, they were replaced by two really quite attractive "lesbians". Not drop-dead gorgeous but certainly up around an 8 or so. The only real problem was that together they had enough acreage of tattoos to cover a medium sized pachyderm or three quarters of the previous lesbians. Still, worth watching. This was obviously a lot more real than the typical lezzie show where the sole qualification is that they have their private parts no more than two time zones away from each other's. I know it was real because they were cackling hysterically just like women do when they see my dick and say how hot they are in between bouts of uncontrollable laughter.
In truth it was a pretty good show, though one had the idea that they were not going to reach awesome simultaneous orgasms. They went through all the motions dry humping, groping, scissoring, etc. , but were clearly enjoying it in a very non-sexual way. Girls just want to have fun.
I tried Crazy House for the first time. Can't recall what that used to be. They had an average lineup and a more conventional lesbian show, I. E. , they sat on their asses and occasionally touched places that even your perverted cousin could get away with when he was baby sitting you.
