Western men fantasize about having two women at once. Their aspirations range of girlfriends, mother-daughter, sisters, twins, fat girl/skinny girl, lesbians, dildos runs beyond the scope of most imaginations, however men rarely accomplish this goal for most women are prudes.
Having sex with a man already tests their limits, let alone messing around with a member of the same sex to satisfy a man’s warped perversions. Of course escort services in the West avail themselves to attain this Nirvana, but the hour-long session between two hardened pros would cost your car payments for a few months. And let’s face it only losers walk.
Not so in Pattaya.
A farang can go into a go-go. A beautiful girl will on hislap. Her skin has the texture of a shaved peach. Two Viagra counteract the effects of the 15 beers drunk in a cheap beer bar. blood flees his brain for its lower auxiliary station. Its activation is signaled by the tent pole rising under his trousers. The little exotic dancer knows what’s in store. Five hours of hard-core sex. A hard pace for any woman's vagina and she surprisingly offers the farang an opportunity to address a long-suppressed desire.
“You want go with two ladies?”
Want? He's been living for this day or night.
“Damn straight I want.”
Normally the girl will pick out a friend. Sometimes a girl who hasn’t been barfined in months. Sometimes a lover. The farang doesn’t care, because his skull is pounding with libido soup.
His hotel is too far and the two girls invite him to the nearest short-time room. It has mirrors on the walls and ceiling. The lighting is dim red. The perfect setting. The girts shower the farang in a state of complete nakedness. They laugh as they hang a towel on his member. He think it’s funny too, but swears to wipe the smile off their faces.
Then it’s show time.
He's seen a thousand porno movies enacting this moment and now gets a chance to play movie director. The girls initiate the a lesbian show, since better for them to play with each other than a sex maniac ie the sex-crazed farang.
Once more he doesn’t care, because they are making the right noises and his eyesight is fading in and out with the hot flashes pounding his temples.
Warning: this is a danger sign of having consumed too many ‘blue boys’ or Viagras.
Again he doesn’t care, because if he dies, he’ll die like a champ.
His patience snaps when they lay on the white sheet in a classic 69.
They look so happy.
The farang wants to be happy too.
From here on in, it get too pornographic and there’s nothing really pretty about a middle-aged guy acting like a football quarterback who’s scored the opposing team’s cheerleaders.
Within thirty minutes it’s over.
His heart is thumping like a gorilla banging a bass drum and the girls are dressing to get the hell away out of the room before he demands a second act. The door shuts. The farang alone, but not too alone, because he set his mobile phone on record and will be able to replay his performance to friends in foreign places via the magic of the internet.
“I’m glad I didn’t go to Disneyland this holiday.”
And the farang says it knowing that he meant it and he hadn’t meant anything for years.
We should all be so lucky.
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