I was coming back from 10 days in Cambodia I'd spent hiking and trying to forget my ex-girlfriend who'd dumped me on New Year's Eve. Maybe it sounds like a stupid idea to try to forget a woman by tramping around South East Asia for while, but if you ever try it, you'll find out: it's a REALLY, REALLY stupid idea. There's a lot of time to think, to go over things in your head and not much you can do about any of it.
Plus, the plumbing in Cambodia is kind of primitive and it's hard to get clean. The best you can do is rinse yourself off once in a while and, by the time I got back to Bangkok, it had been a while since I had done even that. I was as dirty as I'd ever been, really ground-in grimy, and after wandering around scorching Bangkok for a few hours, I smelled even worse.
Somehow the phrase "soapy massage" stuck in my head. I'd heard it somewhere and at the time it hadn't seemed very appealing, but now, filthy, exhausted, love-sick, I was in a more receptive frame of mind. I found a cheap Internet cafe and looked up a place for soapy massages: the Chao Phraya 2 was recommended by those who seemed to know, and it was close to the Sky Train, so I went.
First, it was not close to the Sky Train. Chao Phraya 1 is close to the Sky Train, but you have to walk past it, and a lot of other stuff, to get to Chao Phraya 2. I was dripping sweat by the time I got there.
Second, the place is HUGE. The parking lot is the size of the lot at a Home Depot and the building itself is broad and four or five stories high. I walked across the lot, and saw three or four doors. I went in one at random, entering an empty room, low-ceilinged but the size of a ballroom. I went out and picked another door, which opened to a wide set of stairs. Up the stairs was a deserted cocktail lounge, there were three or four people at the service bar, setting up. I went over and asked them what time they opened. They talked among themselves in Thai and then the busboy took me by the wrist and walked me down a flight of back steps back to the large ballroom I'd already been in.
It wasn't empty, as I'd thought, it was just that the few people in the room itself were clustered near the back, and the dimness of the room, after the bright sunshine, had made them invisible. Taking up one long wall was a window into the fishbowl. It was a set of padded bleachers, with rows of women, wearing numbered badges, sitting patiently.
Let me put this as kindly as I can: if you had some sort of problem with your mother or your second-grade teacher or some other female authority figure and it would make you feel better to fuck a middle-aged woman, then CP2 is the place for you. And, hey, if you like heavily plucked eyebrows, big hair, thick makeup over bad skin, an Asian girl mysteriously raised in an Alabama trailer park, again, CP2 should be on your itinerary.
Some of us, however, prefer a woman who looks more like a fashion model or an airline stewardess than a clerk at Walmart or a Baptist's minister's wife. We're shallow, I guess, and at CP2 we have mighty slim pickings. I was about to leave.
Slim pickings, but not none. I spotted 91, my new favorite number. Slender without being skinny. Beautiful face, short pixie haircut. She was talking animatedly with another girl about the same age but who looked like a Thai Tammy Fae Bakker. I was very happy to see that when the mama-san called her number for me, 91 actually brightened up.
Up close she was even prettier, but I didn't want her to get too close, as my personal hygiene was none too good at the moment, and it was my (untested but reasonable) theory that a hooker would give you better service if she didn't find you repugnant. She had a nice smile and insisted on holding my hand.
We went upstairs to what looked like a hotel hallway. She opened a door and brought me into the room. The front of the room was tiled like a bathroom but had no bathroom-like facilities except a large whirlpool tub. The back had a circular bed, a small TV, and a mirror on the ceiling. There was also a mirror mounted, not hung, on the wall and much later, Miss 91 made a joke about there being a video camera behind the mirror. Her English was a little rocky, but thinking back on it, I am sure it was a two-way mirror so the management could keep an eye on activities. I doubt they tape it, but if you are any grade of celebrity, or even worth blackmailing (I am not), you should probably think twice before going to CP2. Or at least drape a towel over the mirror.
She flicked on the TV and I was surprised (and, to be honest, a little disappointed) that it wasn't porn, just regular TV. Oh, well, my real life was now now becoming something like porn.
She indicated for me to get undressed. I was a little slow in doing do, and was glad for that when a moment later, when a chambermaid walked in unannounced and dropped off a little bag for 91. Soap, condoms, some other stuff. 91 put bubble bath in the water (but she never turned on the whirlpool jets; maybe they didn't work).
I stripped down and hopped into the water, feeling both self-conscious at being naked in front of a stranger and stupid for being self-conscious in front of a woman who sees, and has sex with, dozens of naked men a week. But she seemed more self-conscious than me! She took off her clothes in a corner and when I peeked at her, she giggled nervously and gestured for me to turn my back. Which I did, again part of my whole better-sex-if-you-treat-her-nice theory.
First she washed herself. And, man, did she wash herself thoroughly. She could have performed surgery with her pussy after she was done washing it, it was so clean. Then she washed and massaged each individual bit of me. This was really what I had paid for; I don't usually like massages, because if the massage is any good, I always want to have sex with the masseuse (which is why I have never even tried getting a massage from a guy -- I have enough problems already). She spent somewhat longer time washing the frank-and-beans, although nothing like the scrub she'd given herself.
After a while of this, she pulled the plug and we both showered the soap suds off ourselves, put on towels and went over to the circular bed. She insisted on having the light turned down before she took her towel off. I was somewhat disappointed, because she had a lovely body (and I have poor eyesight), but her shyness was charming, and once my peter was in her mouth, it didn't matter so much. I vaguely felt her put the condom on me with her mouth. She rubbed her muff over my face. I licked at her clit and put a finger inside her. What a tight beaver! It held my index finger like a glove. For a second, I thought about actually screwing her, but for some reason, really didn't want to. We just stayed in 69 -- she made some very convincing squeaking and moaning noises -- until I came. Then I just lay there zoning while she, incredibly, gave me a manicure. All I could think was, what a nice girl.
I dressed, in my last set of clean clothes from my pack, asked for her phone number (which I got -- I wonder if that's a compliment of some sort), and paid. She asked for 1850 baht, the same figure the mama-san quoted, about $47 US, but I shook my head firmly. There was a slight wariness in her eyes -- that's what happens when you fuck on credit -- but I laughed and gave her an even 2000.
I went to a bar, had a few drinks, and went over to Pat Pong. I had a vague plan about spending an hour or so there, then maybe checking out some other fleshpit, like Na Na or even a hands-free restaurant. It didn't work out that way.
I went upstairs to Queen's Corner, which is the standard Pat Pong arrangement, two rows of padded benches surrounding a bar surrounding a large square stage. There were topless girls sort of waddling around on stage. What the hell is that supposed to be? The mama-san sat me down and put a girl on either side of me, one in a bikini the other just in a bikini bottom. Each girl instantly cuddled close and slid a hand onto my crotch. "Get these girls some drinks," I told the mama-san.
The two girls told me they were from the same village in, surprise, surprise, Isaan and they were cousins. I looked closely at their features; they could have been cousins, but a lot of Thai girls look similar. "I can't tell." The two girls laughed and simultaneously, like a dance move, pulled down their bikini bottoms. I felt both of them up. "Oh, yeah, you two're cousins." And they were! I mean, if twats were anything to go by, they were twins.
The topless cousin was prettier, high cheekbones and a flat stomach, but nature has a way of leveling these things out: the other cousin, who went by the unlikely name of Red, was a little pudgier, but much more aggressive, tucking my hand into her bikini bottom, wiggling around to get my finger up her, occasionally leaning over to kiss my prick through my jeans.
Early in the evening, I slipped them each 500 baht, twelve bucks. What the hell? This was the best date I'd ever had and it was costing me less than a movie. They had to go on stage and while they were up, I moved to another table at the back, partly to get away from the front door and partly to see if they'd follow.
At the new table, I struck up a conversation with another girl, Ban. Poor Ban seemed exhausted, and talking to me not so much to hustle a drink but just to dodge going back on stage for a few minutes. Ban was a little older than the cousins, a woman more than a girl, and she seemed both wiser and sadder: the cousins in a few more years.
The music changed and Ban went up on stage and the cousins came down. They found me instantly and sat back down on either side of me, just as they had before, the topless girl, Oh, between me and the DJ booth, Red on the other side. Red had the entire bench and she would frequently lie back on it to masturbate for me to watch. Oh was a little more constricted, both by the DJ booth and by her own personality. She pulled her bikini bottom down to her knees and, whenever I touched her breasts or her clit, would feign such theatrical excess of passion that we would both burst out laughing.
Ban was up on stage. Her responsibility apparently was the pussy show. You know, pussy open bottle, pussy shoot dart, pussy crack egg. Actually, she would just supposit the egg in her canal and then throw her whole body down wham on the stage, which would crack the egg. No wonder she was tired.
I told the cousins what "pussy" meant: a little cat. They liked that. The cousins' 40-year-old aunt came over, gave me a massage. Nice lady, but two cousins is hot, two cousins and their middle-aged aunt is freaky, too freaky for me, bordering on creepy, so I gave her 100 baht and shooed her away.
Another girl, who called herself Pooky (really), came over. Pooky was a little different. She was wearing a bikini top, but her breasts were pulled out of it, and a skirt, which was up around her waist. She talked to me and while she talked, she vigorously rubbed her clit against the corner of the table. I told her laughingly that that was no way to treat a nice pussy and petted it gently. Red petted it too and Pooky obviously liked that a lot more. Pooky told me that she was a lesbian, and pointed out her girlfriend, a chubby girl across the room giving a handjob to a sunburned German man. Ban, coming off the stage, and pulling on a leopard-print fur bikini, volunteered that she was a lesbian too.
On that encouragement, I sponsored a cunnilingus contest. Lovely Oh was to be the judge and whichever girl could eat her out the best would win 200 baht. Pooky went first and seemed to do an excellent job. She started with pussy-licking but continued with just ordinary making out; Oh looked to be enjoying it and Pooky was truly getting off. I wondered if she'd had been waiting a chance to get on Oh. Ban decided she didn't want to play, so I didn't push her but awarded the prize to Pooky and gave Oh a 100 baht judge's fee.
For a while, it went on like that. Usually, two girls, either the cousins or Pooky and Ban, would be on stage or attending to other duties, and the other two would be with me. I'd buy the occasional round to keep the mama-san happy (I later calculated that I spent 2000 baht, more that fifty dollars, over the entire course of the evening, buying drinks and food for five to seven people -- Thailand can still be a bargain). The cousins would always cuddle up right next to me, each with one hand on my package. Once or twice I leaned down to kiss each of them on the clit. Ban would usually sit in Red's spot while Red was dancing, but she was so tired, I'd let her drowse on my shoulder.
Pooky wouldn't sit next to me, she would usually sit on a stool across the table and she and I would alternately reach across the space to rub each other -- she would cup my nuts or I would catch her clit between the knuckles of my index and middle fingers -- or else she would smoke, using both her mouth and, in a bit of Pat Pong bravado, her cunt to take in the smoke. At one point, I took the cigarette out of the impressively puffing cunt and sucked a lungful of smoke for myself, blew it out my nose. Ban liked that, but Pooky just thoughtfully spread her pussy lips with her fingers. I put the cigarette back.
The evening wore on like that: drinking, occasionally having something to eat (the girls had brought their dinner, spicy hot noodles, and they shared it with me), making out. Pooky and Ban would do kind of a phony lesbian show on stage and then come back to our corner and do a much better one just for me. It all had a lazy, sleepy rhythm to it, and more than once I turned my head to notice that the clit I was tickling belonged to a different girl than I had thought. They were all very nice girls, even Pooky, despite her best efforts to be a tough dyke. I was worried about Pooky -- her aggressive sexuality seemed to spring not from lust but a deep-ingrained self-contempt. "Buddha loves you," I tried, but she didn't have a clue what I was talking about.
Suddenly, a white light started to flash above the stage. Pandemonium. All the naked girls on the stage streamed off and were simultaneously replaced by girls in white bathing suit. My girls quickly rearranged their outfits to cover all my favorite places -- except for Oh: she didn't have a top for her bikini. She cowered endearingly behind a half-wall until somebody tossed her a tube top. The decency police had arrived.
They were two Thai boys, barely out of their teens, wearing windbreakers with "Police" stenciled in English on the back. They sat at the bar, drank Cokes, and watched the girls in their bathing suits wiggle demurely on the stage. Everyone else in the place feigned patience and tried to pretend we weren't watching the police and itching for them to leave.
In a strange reversal, it was difficult for us, my girls and me, to talk while fully dressed and with our hands on the tables instead of pawing at each other's erogenous zones. I tried to remind myself this was the way most people spent their time, the way I usually spent my time -- dressed and not making out with strangers -- but it seemed unnatural.
Eventually, the cops wandered out and the slow-motion bacchanalia continued. Probably, the high point was when a farang girl got on the stage. The Thai girls loved this, they got her to strip down to her underpants, but that was as far as she would go. As a devious measure, the dancers sent in one of their prettiest to seduce her. This girl also stripped to her underwear and then slow-danced on stage with the farang girl. She embraced her sensually, kissed her mouth, her neck, and her breasts. The farang girl was almost hypnotized with lust, but not enough to lose her panties onstage.
But it worked on Pooky. She became so excited that she virtually molested Red, pressing her body against the girl, fondling her breasts, tonguing her clit. Red was sprawled across me and laughingly trying to fend off the assault, not too successfully, in part because she was laughing too hard, in part because she was enjoying it, and in part, I confess, because I was holding her wrists.
Now another girl, one I hadn't seen before rushed over. She was very fair for a Thai, with a sturdy but appealing body and wearing nothing but a very loose-fitting cotton G-string. Her face was cheerful, aroused, and determined. She pulled Pooky around, French-kissed her while feeling her up. Pooky responded, reclined back on the bench, and pulled the new girl's face down to her lap. Red and I were pinned to the bench by the two women's writhing bodies.
Keep in mind I have never spoken to or seen this woman before in my life, but it clearly wasn't the time for social niceties. I reached under the cotton G-string to fondly her pussy lips. She reached back and took my hand -- I thought she was going to brush it away but she just pressed it harder against her pussy. Red laughed and began rubbing my cock in earnest. Oh leaned over, pulled up my shirt and licked at my chest. Over the new girl's butt I could see the stage: Ban was up there, putting ping-ping balls up herself. She caught my eye and smiled.
The mama-san came over and, without blinking an eye (four-girl, one-guy orgies being pretty much par for the course on a slow Monday in Pat Pong), told Pooky something. Pooky got up, straighting her costume to no noticeable effect, and turned to go. "When you come back, bring the new girl a drink. What do you want, new girl?"
"A Heineken," the new girl piped up, the first thing she'd said. Pooky ran off. I talked to the new girl. She was pure Thai, she claimed, her pale skin came from her mother, who was Muslim. The girl said her name was Lai and she was a Muslim. A lesbian Muslim stripper/prostitute who liked Heinekens (and apparently had already had several of them). This was so cool.
So cool. I mean, travel is supposed to be about broadening your experiences, meeting new people, learning new things. I had never done anything ever remotely like this. I had never made out in public with one girl, let alone four. Plus, I learned lots of new things. Example: one man cannot have sex with more than four woman at the same time, it's impossible, four women and you're completely surrounded.
Pooky came back with the beer. She held the bottle out in front of Lai and then pulled it away as Lai reached for it. She took a step back and leaned against the half-wall. She spread her legs and poured cold beer over her shaved and open pussy, and put the three-quarters full bottle on a table, offering her new lesbian Muslim friend a clear choice: quite a bit of beer or a little taste of beer and all the pussy she could eat. Lai didn't hesitate and made the right choice.
Now Lai was bent over, vigorously eating out Pooky, and deliberately or not, waving her ass in the faces of Red and me. Red smiled conspiratorially at me and reached out and pulled aside Lai's ever looser underwear. Hmmm, Muslim gash looked pretty much the same as the Buddhist gash I'd been fondling all night -- smaller and tighter than the American kind I'd been used to. I smiled back at Red and grabbed the Heineken bottle off the table and gently worked the mouth of it into Lai's pussy. She seemed to like it, enough that she stopped licking Pooky to pant and enjoy the sensation, until Pooky lightly slapped the top of her head to get her to get back to work.
After a few minutes -- Lai licking Pooky, Red and I fondling Lai, Oh jacking me, and Pooky just smiling -- I took the bottle out, put it on the table, and pulled Lai onto my lap. She was expertly rubbing her ass over my rod and Pooky came closer to get the beer. When she was within reach, I put my hand on her groin and slid one finger into the beer- and saliva-lubricated grotto. She poured beer over my hand and her crotch. Lai knelt in front of her, licking her puss and my fingers. I thought: I am never leaving Bangkok. Me and four -- no, now five, me and five girls going at it in a public place and it's costing me less than a DVD of it would cost me back in Philly where I live. (Actually, as a practical matter, it was difficult to do anything with more than three of them at a time, but there were always two more near at hand, and, I supposed, more if I wanted them. Did I mention I wanted never to leave Bangkok, or even that bar?)
But, time waits for no man and two o'clock rolled around. Closing time -- you don't have to go home but you can't stay here. All the girls changed into street clothes and came back to the table and we chatted some more. They all had children, even championship carpet-muncher Pooky, and they showed me snapshots of their kids
I invited them all out for a drink. Ban wanted, of course, to go home and go to sleep, and Lai and Pooky declined as well. Red and Oh and I caught a taxi to Khao San Road, the backpacker haven, which has a lot of late night restaurants. We sat at an outdoor restaurant and ate noodles and watched drunk Australian tourists fall down in the street. Red and Oh's plan (really, Red's plan, which Oh went along with) was to hang out with me for a few more hours and then go with me to the airport. It was a very sweet plan, I thought, and a good one, because, as I had told them early in the evening, fooling around in the back of a bar was one thing, I wasn't going actually have sex with anyone.
That was the original plan -- I don't know why, too soon after my big breakup, I guess, or maybe I'm just more of an idiot than I thought -- but I hadn't factored in the effects of having five attractive women alternately rubbing my dick and going down on each other in front of me for SIX HOURS who have on my state of mind. When Oh went to the bathroom, I leaned over to Red and suggested that we spend my remaining two hours in Bangkok in a hotel. "You want to take a shower," Red agreed.
I was speechless. Admittedly, in regular clothes instead of in bikini bottoms pulled to their ankles, eating noodles in a restaurant instead of eating pussy in a go-go bar, the two girls looked less like hookers and more like cheerful college students majoring in something easy. Still, I was shifting around in my seat with unresolved lust; I was almost horny enough to take a run at one of the bovine Australian girls. "Well, shower? Uh, yes, a shower. But also, fool around..." A blank look. This was truly surreal. A nun would have gotten the drift by this point -- and an hour ago, this girl was telling me how much she liked giving blowjobs -- but she hadn't the first idea what I was talking about. "Sex. You know." I was whispering, although who in the entire restaurant I might have been fooling I have no idea. You have to be pretty drunk not to figure out that white guy in a Bangkok restaurant at 3 in the morning with two local babes half his age is probably not their Bible-study teacher.
"With Oh?" she asked, touchingly. She knew that I found her cousin prettier (although in the better light of the restaurant, Red had improved and Oh looked a little shopworn). I indicated both her and Oh, who at the moment got back from the bathroom.
In rapid Thai, Red explained the new plan. "If you wish," said Oh neutrally. Any other day, I would have taken that for a no, but as I said, I was pretty revved up. We went to a guest house next to the restaurant. Red and I showered -- Oh didn't want to shower with us at first, but she came into the bathroom when Red was blowing me and washed up.
Red was, despite what she'd said, not that good at blowjobs. Pretty conventional, just licked and sucked it like a lollipop. Well, like pizza, when fellatio is good, it's very good; but when it's bad, it's still pretty good. I watched Oh soap herself down as Red worked on me, and it was very pleasant.
We went to the bed and Oh seemed to get over whatever her problem was. As Red continued to mouth me, Oh sat on my chest, putting her small sweet little cunt alternately on my hand and my mouth. Her whole body shuddered once and she covered her eyes with her hand. "Did you come?" I asked, amazed. I knew from the bar she was not good at faking arousal.
"A little," she admitted. I guess once in a while, a cop gets a traffic ticket too. The cousins lay down side-by-side on the bed, the legs in the air, bent and spread. They looked like two cute puppies who wanted there bellies scratched. I looked at the twin pussies, and thought about how pretty they were and how I wish more of my life was like this. I put in an index finger in each pussy, leaned over, and kissed each cousin on the cheek.
I said to Red, "Can I come in your mouth?"
She smiled and pointed to her cheek. "There." I straddled her face, put my cock in her mouth. I got Oh up so we were both kneeling on the bed face to face. I kissed her on the nipples, and then rested my head on her shoulder. Just in time, I pulled out of Red's mouth and came. After all the time aroused, I had backed up a lot of come and now I blew it all over Red's face. I felt bad about that but she took it well and laughed. Oh got her a towel.
We all got cleaned up and I would dearly have loved to have gone back to bed and slept, but I was already late for the plane. Then I realized I had no more Thai money. "I've got to go to the ATM. Is 3000 baht enough?"
Red brightened considerably. "3000 each?" I felt a twinge, but what the fuck was I thinking. A whore with a heart of gold, you should always remind yourself, especially in Bangkok, is first a whore. Maybe these girls liked me, maybe they didn't, but if they didn't, I would never know, and either way, they had sex with me for the money, to put rice in their children's mouths.
3000 baht is $75 -- a lot of money, to me and certainly to them. "2000 baht each." They seemed happy with that. We got out of the hotel, got the money, and caught a cab to the airport. We were too tired to talk. Red was actually asleep when we got there. Oh got out to let me out. I wanted to tell her something, to tell her how much the last eight hours had meant, that I was happy for the first time in a long time. All I could say was, "Tell Red I said goodbye."
