Bangkok trip report -- October 2018
I partake when in Hong Kong but seldom write reports anymore. No Romanian princesses or “Russian” walkups. No Thai hotel techs or wiggly freelancers. I stick to a few known providers in crumbly buildings across town, and while there's tail, not much of tales. Haven't been caught up in any raids, although recent LE activity on notorious buildings makes me think that maybe influence from Up North will increasingly impinge on our hobby. Paranoid? You tell me.
Then there's work, the all-too-common MTR hassles, and general ennui. I scoped the calendar earlier this year and spotted a Wednesday public holiday, meaning two days of leave would give me a five-day weekend, thus Bangkok, thus trot out my lousy Thai and fly into the capital, why not?
Arrived Saturday the 13th, left Wednesday. Booked a hotel in a part of town I'd never even visited: On Nut, the original terminus of the BTS. More visibly open space than more touristed areas. Retail is a mix of street-level Thai (mostly eats), the Tesco-Lotus “supercenter” which has plenty besides the enormous eponymous supermart, and the newer Century mall on the other side of the BTS station. Stayed at a hotel down a side street near the T-L: nice and quiet.
But you don't care about any of that, you just wanna hear about sex. Even though one of my Grab drivers (that's what works here: a bit pricier than taxis but less bullshit) referred to Bangkok as “Sin City,” the city continues to evolve and the ever-increasing BTS/subway lines spawn businesses as they open new stations. Frankly, if all you wanna do is sex and sex, head straight for Pattaya. There's a bus service near Departure Gate 8 at Suwannapoom (spelled “Soyouwannaboomboom”) Airport that'll haul your horny ass straight there on a big stupid bus for like, 138 baht.
I had some things I wanted to do in the capital, but...yeah OK you buncha pervs, after checking in, I made a beeline for Kasalong BJ bar just off Sukhumvit Soi 6. That's a buncha stops on the BTS but it's a quick train. Traveling west later than rush hour meant free seats—they may be ugly yellow plastic but so what. Mid-October is the end of the rainy season and streets can flood, but all I saw that night were a few puddles. Cool, breezy, humid. The Kasalong girls are out front.
I'm shameless so I walk right up and scope the crew. All BJ techs are skilled so it's a matter of perceived attitude and preferred looks. Of course, your favorite gal might be upstairs sucking off Popeye the Sailor Man, so in many respects it's best not to have a favorite—a rule I've broken, mai pen rai.
Khun Tik (I think obe wrote about her but I'm too lazy to search) has the attitude so she gets the nod. Up the stairs we go, Popeye and his date are in the cubicle next to us. He finishes his spinach and leaves soon after we arrive.
Kasalong has walls rather than Lolitas curtain-setup—I kinda like the latter, being a sleazehog horndog. Kasalong has dick-level sinks and Tik washes my junk in chilly water. Can't expect five-star warm water in a skull bar, but yes, weet shrinkage may occur.
So Mister Moron isn't at full-staff when she engulfs it in her warm wet mouth. She slides straight down and takes in the entire thing, fucking hell. My bacon torpedo swells and she keeps going, deep-throating the entire thing (frankly this seldom happens to me, despite valiant efforts by various women). This is Jesus-and-Satan-eating-donuts wonderful. She looks me in the eye: hey, farang, look what I can do.
I held out as long as I could but there's no stopping this gal, and soon my thighs twitch as my loins explode. Nothing like a ripper blowjob!
Tik wants to talk so tells me about her years in the biz, how she plans to retire soon, her kids, etc. She apologizes for talking so much. I don't mind: I like chatting with working girls, and sometimes they need to talk to someone. Tik doesn't tell me anything new, but that's OK. I pay up, hit the street for some dinner and call it a night.
The next day sees me exploring the MBK/Siam Square area and catching a flick at the Scala cinema, which has escaped the wrecking ball thus far. The Scala is a 60s-era single screen treasure with a Moorish-style lobby and carved wooden décor. It's a treasure and I go every time I'm in Bangkok. This part of town used to have three such cinemas (and these movie palaces are what made Siam Square trendy decades ago), but now it's malls and hip shops. MBK for shopping & eating, some good restaurants in the area, PM me for recommends.
On my final day, I visit the Phrom Pong area, where the flash Emporium shopping mall now offers nothing useful, not even coffee. Yet just around the corner are a number of full-service “massage” parlors in converted shophouses. This is also a Japanese part of town so there are ramen places and higher-end J-eateries. I hit Ramentei which has been there at least 15 years and has the best shoyu (soy sauce broth) ramen I've had outside Japan. Pricey for Bangkok but worth it.
Time for Snow White Massage. As I'm searching for it, I think:
“Ya know, some bros should try some of these other places and report on them. Everyone knows about SWM.”
“Well, Jack, you're here, why don't YOU do that?”
I consider it, but have only visited SWM once and had a great time. Maybe the technician from that time is here again? She was fun!
So, it's right on 24...no it's not, there's a cul-de-sac with other massage places. Back on Suk, over to 26, there it is! Last time I was here there were a dozen girls and I'd happily tangle with a number of these talented cuties.
I walk in and the mamasan greets me with a smile. “Two girls,” she says.
Errrr...yes, there are two females in the viewing area, although one looks like the cleaning auntie. Staffing seems to be an issue...I ask her what time is best, suggest 7:00, and say I'll return then, with a smile. Of course I won't: she knows it, I know it, the cleaning auntie knows it. So what. There is protocol to be upheld here: don't simply frown and walk out, make an excuse. You might want to go back tomorrow.
I'd spotted another dead-end alley just before 26—lined with massage places. Walking down that Street O' Cooze marks you as fresh meat, but what the hell. I spy a bunch of dames in front eating (what else?) and one looks all types-a good, so I chitchat then walk in. Place is called Ruan Thai 2, for whatever that's worth.
The mamasan ushers me into the main room where one gal is sitting on the sofa, and says this one can take care of me. She looks capable, but no ma'am, I want a line-up. So she calls in the crew and they line up, all wearing black dresses. The one I spotted is one of the last to enter, and I gesture at her as soon as she walks in. Sometimes, ya gets what ya wants...if you ask.
Two hours for 2,700 baht, “oil or gel” is 100 baht extra but who the hell needs that stuff? Mem and I head up the stairs, giggling, to a non-VIP room with air-con & fan.
Mem goes to fetch her plastic basket of Massage Stuff. She strips off her cork wedgies and stands barefoot. My Thai breaks as I attempt to ask “How tall are you?”
“Twenty-two.” I recalibrate my mangled lingo and ask again.
“148 cm.”
Mem's from northern Isaan, pure honey caramel with long black hair and a killer smile, the sort of gal you used to meet all the time in this game. Not the typical spinner but a bit pear-shaped—not a problem. We're kidding around and having fun. “Shower with me!” she says. Yes ma'am.
The shower stall is cramped but serviceable. The bed is narrow. That's the deal in these places—you want spacious and posh rooms, try the big parlors in Ratchada. These smaller places are less formal and more about anarchic sensual play in my opinion. It's you, the gal, and a couple of hours.
Mem and I start messing about. No problems getting this one warmed up—I caress her neck while ramming my tongue down her throat and she moans. Play with her cute little conical tits. Yummy yum yum.
She teases my cock with her tongue, sucks it, wraps both her tiny hands around it...OK I could have used a bigger bed because there's no playbook. We're just messing around. Skin, flesh, caresses and fun.
I hadn't done 69 in awhile so request that, she gets into position and I enjoy musky delicacy...then she's sitting up and I'm stroking her clit, which revs the kitty...more messing about then it's condom time, she gets on top and starts wiggling. It's nice but soon the strokes become more regular and I wonder if this one's gonna cum. But I'm thinking...probably not.
OK, try the lotus thing, she gets it but as she likes to close her eyes, isn't checking “the action.” I am: love to see my cock slipping in and out of a nicely trimmed Thai pussy. I grab her ample butt and slam it down again and again. This is nice but she's not gonna cum. Eh, fuck it.
I cum. Waves of detonation crash over me, my legs are shaking, I'm holding onto this warm wonderful silk-skinned creature and she's smiling. Quick showers. More frolicking. More sex...I always go for two hours in these places as I don't like to be rushed. And I'm no longer young and I like to get that second shot in, so no worries on the timeframe—how's that strategy?
There were other encounters on this trip but this report's already longer'n a snake, so that's my story of Bangkok visitin' for October. I packed plastic sandals because the end of the rainy season often brings flooding to central Thailand, but on this trip, no need to wade through street-puddles. A definite plus.
JtB | |
