4-day weekend report from Bangkok
I have previously just a short layover in BKK. This time I decided to take a weekend in town. Here are the the highlights of my weekend.
Day 1.
Arrived BKK about 10 am, thanks to information on this site and other sites on the web, I and a friend made our way to the airport railway link called BTS (go down two floors from arrival hall). We took the BTS to Makkasan station. From there, some say we can go down to the underground metro called MRT to go to Sukhumvit. We become lazy and decided to take a taxi. We told the drive to put it on meter, cost 60 Baths to Holiday Inn Express on Soi 11. Again, thanks to the info on this site, RTFF got us to this hotel because we read it is GF (later proven right). We got to the hotel just a bit too early, and was told our room will be ready after 12 pm. Plenty of time for lunch and a round of massage. We were somewhat tired after a long flight, we decided to go for just a normal massage, no extra service. The wonderful internet information led us to LaVana on Sukhumvit 12 alley. Although Lavana does not offer extras, the one next door, Darling, does have them (we checked it out, small selection, but very doable). After 2 HR, we emerged fresh and ready for a night in the town.
Returned to our hotel, rooms were ready. Took shower and a short nap. In the evening, we debated between going to Darling that we spotted earlier or going for Nataree area. We know Nataree was closed, but there are others nearby. In the end, we took the MRT to Huai Khwang where we found Nataree with shut doors, but the Emmanuelle next door stays open and actions are lively. We went for Emmanuelle after checking out a couple others (Hi-Class and one other that I forgot the name). Emmanuelle seems to have more selection with a more impressive lineups. There are three price range, 2 k, 3 k, and 4 k. I picked a young masseuse at 3 k, my friend picked a tall (relatively) skinny one at 2 k. Afterwards we compared notes and the verdict was for the 2 k. My young one was no match for experience and professionalism of the older girl. The young one was a case of d**k-scare and I had to just get it over quick. My friend struck a connection with the slightly older girl and they had the full 2 HR of fun, joking and giggling on their way out, where I sat waiting with less than satisfactory result. I told my friend and he got a good laugh. Lesson learned: picking the younger girl may not always be the best.
Day 2 report to follow. Cheers.
The Elixir of Personal Growth
Life is a mixture of familiar and unfamiliar. We all revel in the familiar since it is tried and true, there is little to think about, and we can practise and practise until we earn expert status. This is true for almost everything in our lives: whatever we practice, we get better at, and it becomes easier for us. And it is this earned ease, this facilitative processing, that is the allure of the familiar. Because familiarity has facilitative properties, many of us prefer to stick with the familiar.
But the unfamiliar is where all the fun lies, where the challenge is. The unfamiliar is in actuality the elixir of personal growth. When I was a student, I took a neurobiology class taught by one of the world's greatest neuroscientists. On the outside, he was an old, withered man at the time he was lecturing to us, perhaps in his mid-eighties. His back was permanently bent, he walked with a semi-limp, his face was stretched into a perma-grin: the classic grandpa face. But his mind was as vibrant as any I had known. I once thought that watching him speak must be like what Conrad felt, on the night-time banks of that river, watching the jungle, seeing nothing but impervious darkness, and yet hearing the wild drumming of the natives from deep within the jungle. As dark and dead as it may seem, there is intense and furious energy concealed within. Despite his withered appearance, this man was amusing, witty, intellectual, massively knowledgeable, and just a pleasure to be around. Such was his appeal, I might have ended up a neuroscientist, were it not for the gut-churning smell of formaldehyde that would be a permanent part of my future training.
But to the point: one thing he said which stuck with me is how the brain deals with old and new information. Old information is sent through circuits that are already established. It strengthens already-existing connections, thereby facilitating subsequent processing of that kind of information. That's why it is easy to do familiar things, and why the more you practice, the better you get.
But new information is the interesting stuff. New information cannot be handled by the existing circuitry, and needs some kind of [B]growth[/B] in order to be properly handled. And this is what makes new information so difficult for people to deal with, and it is also what keeps aging brains supple and nimble. He told us about how he lives his life by this basic principle, and how it affects every facet of his life. In the morning, he tries to get out of bed from different sides (sometimes the left, sometimes the right, sometimes the foot, sometimes over the headboard); he brushes his teeth in different patterns every morning and evening; he sometimes puts the left leg of his pants on first, sometimes the right leg on first, and sometimes he sits on the bed and puts both legs in at the same time. He takes different routes down to his car; he drives different routes in to work, listening to different radio stations every day, etc. You get the idea.
His point was that new experiences are what keep the brain growing, active and vibrant. And he was the living testament to that ethos.
Now, that's a very long-winded way of me saying that I like to try new things. Why did I not just type that one sentence and save you ten minutes of reading? Ahh, what fun would that be? And also, this was a test to see if Naked Gunz is reading. I think he is, but he will never admit it. So I like to try new things, and I often push myself to experience the new, the uncomfortable, and put myself in situations where I experience the unexpected. And this is what I ended up doing with a girl from Rainbow 3, described below.
So, setting the scene: I had just left Rainbow 4, having had my preferred girl BFed by Milhouse. Upon taking my leave of the Rainbow 4 ladies, I considered going to Billboard, but I had had some luck with Rainbow 3 in the past, the one in the far corner, and decided to make a stop there.
I entered and was ushered to the left, and sat next to three bored waitresses. On stage were 12 or so ladies in various states of disrobement. The two that were closest to me were rather fine specimens, and the thin-eyed one (#43, if I remember correctly) was already sending out her tractor-beam eye signals to me. She was long-legged, wide-hipped, and thin waisted: what else does Kumbu need? But I pulled back on the reins a little and decided to take a closer look at the full field before putting down a wager on a winner.
So right now #43 was a lock for the win, but it would be best to figure out who will place. For that particular honor it looked like #26 might be the best bet. She had strong legs too, though the vertical line on her belly revealed a most definite child in her recent past. Moreover, her face was not quite as alluring as #43, so it was #43 to win, and #26 to place. Having picked my two horses, I sat back and took a breath.
One of the waitresses sat next to me and started to chat. I recognized her from the last time I was in there, a full three years earlier, and she confirmed that she had indeed been working there for seven years. So it seems it is a steady job, if they can handle the hours. Moreover, they make a good amount on tips, she reveals, which makes it much preferable to an office job. Nice, but my mind was less on this lovely, friendly waitress, and more on the lovely, semi-naked ladies on stage. I suddenly had the image of Milhouse walking in through the curtain and in his loud abrasive voice shouting to #43, "Teeth, teeth, teeth!" And she would hop off stage and run over to him to be smothered in spittle and hair grease. I had better act quick, or else the beauty will be snapped up.
But little Kumbu sent me a little signal. It was almost a whisper of a signal, more like a telepathic message, and the message said, in a hushed whisper, "Psst, big Kumbuuuuu. . . If you look carefully. . . You will come. ".
Huh? What are you playing at, cryptic little Kumbu? And Kevin Costner references will get you no where, you little fuck.
But I humored him. I realized I had not looked carefully at any of the other girls beyond these two that caught my eye immediately. So I gave the rest of the girls a cursory glance, and as my eyes swept past each of them, I saw nothing.
First girl: Nothing. Next girl: Nothing. Next girl: Nothing. Next girl: Nothing. Next girl: Boom: precum slopped out of little Kumbu, making a little, uncomfortable puddle on the side of my leg. What just happened there?
And then I consciously recognized what little Kumbu had subliminally seen. It was her.
I have never seen a woman with these features. Never. Ever. In my life. This woman was simply spectacular. Boys, I urge you, make your way to Rainbow 3 before this gem of a physique gets a permanent long-term sponsor, because it WILL happen. This is a woman of unparalleled physical beauty, a woman with [B]a single attribute[/B] that trumps all else. This single attribute was so amazing, that it did not matter what else existed on the periphery: she was a stunner. One attribute to rule them all, One attribute to find them, One attribute to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them. She suddenly vaulted into the win category, and she won by a furlong or more.
Let me explain. She had slightly curly, peroxide / golden hair. Her face was pretty, though not in a traditional sense. Her skin was light, perhaps the color of milk mixed with a dollop of golden honey: a pale, smooth, sandy white color. Her breasts were covered (and I discovered later, to my mild disappointment, that they are augmented), so I could not really tell. Her legs were athletic and shapely, and her hips were wide and fit. But the killer feature, the single attribute mentioned above, was her midsection.
I have never, ever in my life seen a woman as fit and tight, and yet as utterly feminine, as her. The skin on her midsection was unbelievably thin: I could see the muscles, tendons and bones move beneath her tender, pale skin. Moreover, she had a six pack that was as sexy as sexy comes. And yet she was the epitome of feminine beauty. She had an absolute lack of fat, but was not emaciated or skinny. No, she was curvy, but thoroughly healthy and athletic. And all of that was distilled down into that midsection that was like no other that I have ever seen. She was dancing very freely, and as she gyrated and turned, the reptilian grace of her waist, hips, breasts and sexy eyes turned me inside out. I felt a boom of dopamine right into my neural reward centers, and I knew I had to have her. I am not really one with a midriff fetish, but this girl's figure was just so supreme, so stunning, so mind-blowing that I had to sample her.
I grabbed the waitress next to me rather urgently and groaned the number into her ear. I think it was #81, but in my frantic, feverish urge to capture this star, I forgot to write it down. But guys, all you have to do is go to Rainbow 3 and look for that midsection: it is utterly unmistakable.
The lady is pulled, and she comes over to sit. She smiles gently, but not overly graciously. She sits and holds my hand, though not aggressively or overly demandingly. We have a nice talk, and she is just simply charming. Ya is her name, she's 22 years old (and yes, I could tell from her skin: definitely the skin of youth), she's from a place I did not know until this day: Roi Et. It's near Khon Kaen, but I've never heard a girl list this as their hometown. I pull out my phone and she shows me where it is on the map. I offer her a LD, which she had not pushed for at all, and she politely accepts.
She speaks with a definite charm. She is eloquent, and her grammar is better than most. She speaks with a politeness and directness that is super refreshing. Her voice is super soft, almost inaudible. She's definitely not one of these screeching chickens that you hear at gogo bars all the time. No, her voice is like a whisper, almost hushed, and therefore ever so alluring. You can tell that she is smart too: her responses are quick, and her eyes are engaged. She is not your run-of-the-mill drunked out gogo girl.
She has large, wide eyes, almost deer-like in their beauty. Her nose is stubbish that is neither ugly nor beautiful (clearly not enhanced though), and she has simply stunning hands. Her fingernails are long, lustrous works of wonder. She obviously has been growing them for more than a year, such beautiful blades of seduction they are. She does not even remember how long she's been growing them, so long has it been. One finger has a broken nail, but the other 9 are in fabulous, sexy condition. Long time readers of the Chronicles of Kumbu know that I have a thing for legs first, but hands are a close second.
We have chemistry, but I have to say, it is not gushing out of our collective sweat glands. It's more of a gentle breeze than a blustering gale force. But it's my penultimate night, and I would like to sample something unusual. Recall my desire for the unfamiliar referenced earlier: this girl was not my typical gogo-girl selection, in that I did not even look at her legs, and she seemed too model-like to be with a schmuck like me, so there was a little bit of risk here. But unfamiliar is what I wanted, and she seems to be the ticket.
Waitress is nearby and suggests a BF. The cost is 600 baht, and the waitress tells me ahead of time that ST is 3000 baht for one hour, paid directly to the lady. I do a double take. What? Kumbu doth protest. She thinks the 1 hour stipulation is the point of contention, and asks how long I will be. I said that is not the point. I want to take my time, go to my hotel, have a nice time with the lady, and when all is said and done, I want to be no more than 2000 baht the lighter for it. Waitress lady objects, and gogo girl sits quietly on the side. Then I realized: why am I negotiating with the waitress? If I pay the girl directly, let me talk to the girl. So I ask the waitress to leave.
When she does, I turn to the girl, smile a little, and talk about her hands some more. Gorgeous, lovely, do you use anything to protect them, like a clear coating of gloss? I see no hangnails, you must use lotion every day, chay maay? You must use an emery board and not a nail cutter. She is very excited that I am taking such an interest, and that I know a little something about the craft of nail care. You must have cried when this one broke, right? Oh poor darling, there, there, let me give you a little hug. Look, these two nails are so long, you could use them as chopsticks! Har-har-har, knee-slapper!
Mood properly restored, I ask her if she wants to come with me. She smiles, nods ever so demurely, looking down at her lap. She keeps her head pointing down, but looks up at me with her eyes and whispers in her loudest voice "yes". She looks at the waitress nervously, and then back at me. I say, ok, you know what I want. I will take care of you if you take care of me. She says 'kaaa'. So I nod to her, smile, and off she goes.
No money discussed. But I had lodged my displeasure with the 3000 baht figure vocally with the waitress. And Ya knew that. So we had informally, non-verbally agreed to a figure below 3000ST. How low is now entirely up to me, though her performance would certainly dictate that to a large degree. But I want to emphasize that this required trust on her part. After our session, I could easily stiff her (pardon the pun). I could leave her with 1000 baht, and because there was no agreement in place, technically, I would have done nothing wrong. I'the be an asshole, but as asshole who is in the right. But I had given the very definite impression that I was not going to do that. I speak nicely to her, I take my time, and that is not the modus operandi of a cheap charlie.
5 minutes later she returns wearing jeans and a black blouse, and off we go, holding hands into the smelly, noisy NEP courtyard, for the short walk back to the Landmark.
Rather than enter the Landmark through the front lobby, I take her in from the cafe floor, walk past that smaller elevator towards the steps in the back of the building. As we are walking across the marble, I ask her if she has been to this hotel before. She looks at me with a frozen expression.
Doh!
Sorry. By asking her if she knew this hotel, I had just asked her how whory she is. Have you laid flat on your back in every hotel in Bangkok? Or just the ones nearby NEP? How trampy ARE you exactly?
Anyway, we hustle through the circuitous route to the elevators and up to my room, where she walks in respectfully (not throwing her stuff around, nor grabbing the remote control), and sits nicely on a chair (not the edge of the bed). I offer her a drink, she asks for water. We sip some water together and chat a few more minutes.
Precisely 5 minutes pass and she politely asks for permission to shower. Permission granted dear. She comes out 5 minutes later and it is my turn. As I foam up my balls, all I can think about is getting both my hands on that belly and waist. . . Holy bejeezus, she is simply breathtaking. When I get out, now-fully erect little Kumbu pressed inside the towel around my waist, she is in her towel, lying on the bed with her head on a pillow. I sit next to her and place my hands on her hands and admire the gorgeous architectural wonder of her fingers. I started kissing her fingers, and she humored me quietly for a few minutes.
I gradually moved up her arm, and all I could think of was her midsection. I just wanted my hands and face on that tight, washboard belly. I wanted to feel the softness of her skin atop hard, fit musculature. So I made my way up the arm, aiming for her shoulders, and then to slowly remove the towel from around her.
I kissed all around her shoulders and with my left hand I slowly loosened the top of the towel, which had been tucked in just at her right armpit. I pulled it down a little to reveal her breasts, and immediately suspected the unnatural curvature of man-made bosoms. When I squeezed one gently with my right hand, I felt the familiar bounce-back of silicone, but the boob job was incredibly subtle and well done. It was not one of those gargantuan cock-ups that you sometimes see on display in BKK. No, this girl had done it tastefully. The boobs now looked proportional to her body actually. They were not big boobs by any stretch, and so she obviously had a flat chest her whole life, and this just brought her up to the norms for body image amongst modern women of this age. But they were still fake, which I dislike.
Her nipples are classic Isaan nipples. They are smallish, lovely coffee-brown, with a slight tinge of pink around the edges. I kiss them gently, but after a while my face objects to the protrusion of gel packs into my face. So I move down to the jackpot. I kiss just below her breasts, looking for any visible scar (none visible), and then stop and raise my head for a good view of the belly.
I inhale deeply, taking in the sight. Simply superb. A perfect hour-glass figure, with the thinnest section of that hour-glass being the focal point of attention for this night. I gently, gingerly, place my hands on her skin. As I run my hands over the gossamer skin, I mumble how unbelievable this all is. Such a physical characteristic is not supposed to occur in nature. Is this girl on some kind of performance enhancing drug? Is there such a drug that makes midsections utterly fatless, utterly fit and absolutely perfect? Whoever invented this is surely a multi-billionaire by now.
I place my hands under her breasts, thumbs in the middle, fingers open trying to grasp as much as possible, and then slowly move them down her waist and belly, feeling every undulation, every curve, every muscle and every feature of her insides and outsides. I know I've said this before, but she is absolutely perfect. My hands get down to her hips, and I stop and move my hands back up, slowly to her breasts, and run them over her breasts and nipples up to her neck. And then back down, slowly, methodically, addictively.
My breathing was erratic, since all my brain power had been diverted to my hands, my eyes and little Kumbu. No other body functions were operating at this time. I kept at the midsection groping, continuing to imbibe the beauty within my fingers. I just can't get over how thin and smooth her skin was, and yet how fit and athletic her midsection was.
After a good 10 minutes (which, let's face it, is a ridiculously long time to be stroking a woman's belly), I started to kiss it. And so I did exactly the same thing for another 10 minutes, this time with my face. I plunged my face into that soft, smooth belly skin and felt just how soft it is, while also feeling the toned, strong muscle beneath which gave this whole woman the shape that surely makes her a superstar in Rainbow 3. I kissed softly, sometimes not so softly, taking in gulps of that aromatic potion. She giggled a little, but surely this is par for the course for her. I'm sure every man she is with wants to do the same thing.
I eventually tired of this, unbelievably, and went south for wetter pastures. I got down to her pussy, which was trimmed, though not shaven, and started to work on her pussy for a while. She was doing a little bit of heavy breathing at this point, with the occasional 'ooh'. I avoided her clit to begin with and just peppered the whole area with gentle kisses and soft suckles. Her pussy lips were large and tasty, and her clit was small, though not as small as some of the girls I have been with in the last week. So I finally get to her clit, and I work it for a few minutes before she starts to react. She starts to do a little writhing, and after about 6-7 minutes, she lets out a couple of 'oohs'. But then she suddenly jerks her hips a little, and I look up and I ask if she's ok. She says yes. I say to her that I will continue until she tells me to stop, and I start to go back to it when she suddenly grabs my chin and says 'ok, stop now please. '.
Hmm? I was of two minds here. The first, and the one that I initially assumed, was that she was the professional, and DATY is something that she prefers not to do. It may be too intimate for her, or it may take too long (she's on the clock, of course), or she may be too sensitive. Or whatever. But in this way, the fantasy of an affectionate, GFE experience had just been broken by the revelation of a professional preference. This is how I took it. But later that night as I replayed this event in my mind, I realized that there was a second possibility. Some women, just like some men, go through semi-orgasms, sometimes. And these semi-orgasms make one sensitive for a short period of time. She may very well have had one of these (which matches her physical reaction to the DATY I had been performing), and she was not able / willing to explain this to me.
In any case, at that moment, my fantasy had been shattered. She was suddenly not the gorgeous, sophisticated, eloquent, elegant lady that she had been a minute earlier, but rather a physically perfect sex toy that I had paid for, and that I was now going to use for my own personal, sexual gratification. This was going to be physical pleasuring; visceral, deep-down, animalistic, instinctual cave-man fucking. Something I tend not to do, but in that moment when she switched from the GFE to the consummate professional, this is what happened to me.
I grabbed my Trojan, slipped it on, spat into my hand and rubbed the spit all over little Kumbu. I then bent down and gave her pussy an almighty sucking, just to get it slobbery and wet. In went little Kumbu, and I paused for a moment. I know, animalistic, I know. But I could not just start to fuck her at full force. I can't do that, I just can't. So it started slowly. Very gently, very tenderly, and not deep at all. I kissed her breasts a little, and when possible, I grabbed her belly and waist a little, just to get myself grooving. We were in missionary for 5-6 minutes before I decided a change was in order.
I kept little Kumbu within her, and moved her onto her side. I was sitting on my knees, she on her side, with her large hips right in my face, as I penetrated her from beneath. This was a superb position because it gave me hips, right in my face, as well as ass in my left hand, and I could see the stunningly slender bridge between her flared hips and her ribcage. Visually stunning. I fucked for just 2-3 minutes before I had to change positions for fear of ending this most sumptuous of endeavors, and unfortunately, I chose one of the most stimulating positions to transition into.
I moved her onto her belly, flat, with her legs together, pointing straight down. So imagine a woman sleeping on her belly, with her legs together, and your penis inserted right between her fleshy butt cheeks. That's the position I found myself in. I was sitting on top of her, grabbing her two squashed butt cheeks with both hands, pumping little Kumbu in and out of her pussy, though it looked like I was fucking her ass. Her ass, I noticed for the first time, was just as spectacular as her waist was. It was full, firm, tight and perfect in every capacity. And here I was fucking little Kumbu right into those milky, smooth-as-butter, round-as-mangoes global butt cheeks.
Moreover, from this vantage point, I could see her lower back, which just like the front portion of her body, was ultra slim, very thin-skinned, and amazingly sexy. She was arching it ever so slightly, and so I could see all the muscles, big and small, rippling and shimmering in the light. And to my bawling delight, the ripples were occurring in synchrony with my fucking (obvious now, but a revelation at the time). Every time I pumped little Kumbu into her tender, firm backside, a cascade of little ripples washed across her gorgeous sand-colored back, emanating from her shoulders and rushing downwards to her hips, as if to meet the force of my fucking. And by the time they had reached the hips, of course, little Kumbu was crashing back into her crack again. I imagined this was like an invading army trying to land on the beach. Wave after wave would land on the beach, only to be repulsed by the occupying forces. Only to be followed by another wave, and another, and another, relentlessly invading this occupied beachhead. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. It was the most exhilarating sensation my tiny, sexually obsessed mind could fathom.
It was so intense, so energetic and so thrilling that I was fucking beyond my means. That is, I was exerting more energy than I ever do, and my body was fatiguing. I was sweating, and I could feel the very early onset of cramp in my calves. But I could certainly not stop, and not even flag slightly. In the back of my mind, as this little battle was waged on the sands of her back, I just wondered what a fucking saint I must have been in my previous life to deserve such a satiating, awe-inspiring experience. I was getting so excited that little Kumbu slipped right out of her pussy by mistake; a temporary cease fire had to be called, and I took this opportunity to wipe sweat from my forehead and to catch my breath. But as I tried to slip him back in, little kumbu slathered all over her butt cheeks. Aaah, what a fucking mess. It's ok, slippery, wet, messy butt cheeks, I can handle that.
I got little Kumbu back in, and started to fuck again, as hard and wild as I could, but for some reason I could not get the rippling army thing going again. She must have adjusted herself during the cease fire and so her back was no longer under such duress. And so I just focused on Kumbu here, and went to town on those lovely ass cheeks. And I chuckled a little to myself at the thought of little Kumbu bumbling all over her butt cheeks.
My mind fogged in that familiar orgasmic way, my muscles tensed, and I felt the sense of inevitability begin to wrap me in its blanket, with a dollop of anticipation, a tinge of regret, and whole fucking lot of sheer, oozing, ball-busting pleasure. I grabbed her ass with all ten fingers and stuck little Kumbu in as deep as I possibly could and just buzzed myself into satiation for a good 30 seconds. Mid-orgasm I let out the most guttural, most base growl-like sound. It came from beneath my soul, deep down from a place I have never been, it just came out, spontaneously, and it was not quiet. It was an open-mouth, open-vocal-tract, uninhibited vocalization of deep, utter and pure nirvanic gratification. Poor girl beneath me, she looked back in puzzlement, with her only consolation being that the end was nigh.
And that is when it happened.
A bead of sweat rolled off the tip of my nose and dropped down on to her bare ass cheek. For a moment I thought it was saliva from my mouth. . . And I remembered what I had thought earlier that night.
[QUOTE=Kumbu;1897671]Imagine a Chinese Milhouse Van Houten. . . Upper teeth protruding, poor hair cut, overly-thick glasses. . . I imagined what the next 2 hours of her life would be like. . . can you imagine the ass squashing that would happen? I could imagine him giggling at the beauty of the spheres, [b][u]drool dripping off his incisors onto her bulging ass cheeks[/u][/b]. And having his penis all over that ass? For whatever reason, that turned my stomach. And when I imagine myself in that position, it does not seem so demeaning or disgusting. [/QUOTE]I looked up at Ya's face, and she was kind of peering back at me with a mixture of apprehension and discomfort. And I saw myself, suddenly, penis still inserted in this perfect woman, as a Milhouse Van Houten of my own. I was the guy that I had quietly in my own head mocked and derided, as if I was somehow superior to him. And yet every detail of what I imagined as a repulsive hotel-interlude between him and his favored beauty was replicated, down to the drool on the ass and the penis smacking all over the butt cheeks. It was prescient, and in the most damning way possible.
I let out a whimper as this realization sank in. I climbed off the girl, and ushered her into the shower. She obliged willingly. I lay there on the bed, covered in cum and sweat, and just sank. She came out and so I was obliged to shower, which I dutifully did. And when I came out, she was dressed and smart and ready to go with a gorgeous smile on her face. The consummate professional. I paid her 2500 baht. No kiss on the way out, but I got a soft smile and a squeeze of the hand. As she left, she looked back with her large, beautiful deer-like eyes, smiled, gave me a finger wave and mouthed the word 'bye' to me. I smiled back to her, the door slammed shut, and it shook me to the core.
