It’s been a while

It’s been a while now since I had me last sexual adventure. I mean, I think it’s been a while. Crikey! I’m getting’ so old these days I can hardly remember what it’s for. But someone accused me today on that thar Internet thingy of bein’ a sexual athlete.

Was I?

Let me think back.…..

Can yer give me a name first mate? That might help me remember. Yeah, any name will do and I’ll tell youse about one of me experiences with one.

Daeng, yer say?

Oh yeah. I remember her. She was that big-breasted shiela in the Pussy Willow bar down on…on…don’t tell me! I’ll remember.

Yeah, that’s right! It was over in Suthisarn road.

Now, youse young fellas have probably never been over there, so let me tell youse how it was.

Oh, it was a wild place back then. The place didn’t come alive until after midnight. We’d walk down the street, me mate Harry the Horse and me, peerin’ into the dark interiors, our eyes agog. What a sight fer sore eyes those places were. Slinky dressed shielas with that long black hair and goo-goo Asian eyes just invitin’ us poor slaverin’ blokes in to partake.

Of course, with such a smorgasbord it was a difficult decision. But me mate Harry the Horse made it easier.

“Here Fos, drop one of these pieces of blottin’ paper and stand by fer action.”

So that’s what I done. There was none of them little blue pills youse younger blokes are lucky enough ter have these days. Nah. We had to make do with whatever we could.

We sat across the road in the Skanky Hotel and had a beer while we waited for that drug ter seep outa the paper and then we were away and rarin’ ter go. Crossin’ back across the road was a technicolor adventure I’ll never forget. There was at least three taxis screeched to a halt as we quivered in the middle of the road.

Then a squadron of tuk-tuks heard about us and they kamikazied in, shovin’ the bloody taxis out of the way. We was surrounded.

“Hey farung! You want see ping pong show? You want buy jewelry? You want sister me? No? You want my dog?”

I never did figure out what he meant buy You want sister me? Did he want me ter make him me bloody sister?

I tell youse, it wasn’t easy shakin’ all them determined Thai salesmen and makin’ back ter Shangri-La. The Pussy Willow was right in front of us as we climbed up the onto the sidewalk. Our backs were marked with tire tracks, but we were unscathed and ready for action. I recall trippin’ over somethin’ and hearin’ the shielas exclaim in delight.

“Oooh! He Ben Tripod too much!”

“Nah, ladies,” I replied, “me name’s Foster Foskin. I don’t know no one named Ben.”

We was carried on the shoulders of a pack of squealin’ shielas, four of them out front of me carryin’ the trophy they all hoped I would bestow on ‘em. But I wasn’t havin’ any of that, eh? Not yet, anyway.

The mamasan came screamin’ up and threw her hands around me neck and squealed, “Oh Mr Foreskin! You velly welcome bar me.” These bloody women never did get me name right, eh?

I told ‘er she’d already climbed on the bar. She looked down and downright quivered with delight. Even then I wasn’t ready ter give in. Bein’ a true blue Aussie, I was there ter partake of that wondrous amber liquid. Youse should always take care of the essentials in life first, eh? Get yerself primed up and the rest will follow along nicely.

We managed ter get set up on the bar stools as Harry the Horse ordered the first beers.

What’s that?

Why did we call him Harry the horse?

Well, he was a bloody drover, yer drongo. He rode a horse and even looked like one.

Now, don’t look so disappointed. I know what youse was thinkin’. But that was just a bloody rumor.

Anyway, we sucked down those cold beers like they was the first drink we’d had in a month. Jeez, they went down well. I can still feel that cold tingly flavor even this many years down the road.

I put me glass down and looked around. That’s when I spotted Daeng down in the dim depths of the bar. She was wearin’ this beaut red dress that was so short it coulda been a hankie. She was bendin’ over and me eyes zoomed onto her pink satin panties. Stitched across the bum were the immortal words, “Rear entrance for tradesmen”

Well, bein’ a bloody brickie meself I thought I was in like Flynn. So I weaved me way down to ‘er and opened up with me classic pick up line, “G’day shiela. How much for short time?

Yeah, I know. I was the master of bloody verbosity, wasn’t I? But yer got ter remember I was three sheets ter the wind and cruisin’ nicely.

Anyway, she turns around and gives me a big smile and a glimpse of cleavage that woulda put the Sydney Harbour Heads ter shame.

Me eyes stood outta me head like them cartoon characters yer see and I asked the obvious question. “Are those real?”

She showed me how ter drink tequila shots from a glass snugged nicely between ‘em. The game was easy. Down a large beer in less than 5 seconds and then snag the glass from her tits and down that without usin’ me hands. We played that game a few times, and each time I won I bought her a tequila too.

Ah, youse know about tequila eh? Yeah, that’s the drink ter make any woman more attractive.

Well, one thing led to another and we was gettin’ on famously when one of the other shielas tries ter get in on the act.

“You buy me drink.” She says, givin’ me the glad eye. I looked at it in me palm and handed it back.

“Thanks fer the offer love, but I reckon youse want ter keep yer eye on someone else.” I laughed. She had her left eye closed, but when I said that she opened it wide. She had a bloody glass eye with the Thai flag on it. I love a patriot.

Even so, I was just about ter explain that I was already fixed up. But Daeng wasn’t havin’ none of that. No way.

“This my fliend me. We like go boom boom together.”

I smiled and thought I’d gone ter heaven. So I left me mate Harry the Horse suckin’ on a beer and a spare tit and paid the mamasan on the way out.

Yer wouldn’t believe it. Sixteen tuk-tuks zoomed in from various points of the compass like bloody blowies on a daggy sheep. We had ter fight our way though them before I flagged down a taxi.

“Playboy Hotel, chop chop!” I yelled.

The driver took off like Steve McQeen, and ten minutes later deposited us right inside the curtains. I paid him off and we ran giggling into the room.

Well, ter cut a long story short, that night was a night ter remember. Come ter think of it, that one seems ter stick in me mind a lot these days.

Now, if youse’ll excuse me, I need another beer. What’s that? You wants ter buy me one if I’ll tell youse another story about the good old days in Bangkok?

Mate, yer on! An old warhorse like me needs plenty of lubrication, eh?

Yer don’t believe Bangkok was like that in the old days?

Yeah, it’s a bit hard ter credit isn’t it? I mean, these days yer’ve got the army runnin’ the country. It’s squeaky clean. There’s no more bars any more. Instead, youse’ve got nice healthy California Wow! gyms ter go and exercise yerselves in so youse don’t have distractin’ thoughts about naked women. There’s no more tuk-tuks and taxis allowed in town since the government forced all the Esarn farmers ter go back home. Then there’s them squads of religious prisoners from the south sweepin’ the streets so clean they sparkle. The air is clean. It’s real bonzer isn’t it?

But I tell youse boys, the old days was pretty good too. Now, where’s that beer? Have yer got anythin’ with more than 1 percent alcohol? It’s been banned yer say? Ah, I sure do miss the good old days……but it’s been a while.

© Marc Holt. All rights reserved by the author.