Western press continually brattles on how Muslim suicide bombers are rewarded for their ultimate sacrifice with seventy-seven virgins, even though virgins are not renown for their sexual prowess and this generous gift for their ultimate sacrifice has seemed more a curse to me, then again most western men fantasize about a dirty weekend in a cheap hotel with two whores more than a full platoon of uninitiated virgins; ranging from girlfriends, mother-daughter, sisters, twins, fat girl/skinny girl, lesbians, dildos, 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 sexual maniac’s warped perversions. Of course escort services in the West routinely offer this Nirvana, but the hour-long session between two hardened pros would cost a few monthly car payments in America.
Not so in Pattaya.
A farang can go into a go-go. A beautiful girl will sit on his lap. Her skin has the texture of a shaved peach. Two Viagra counteract the effects of the 15 beers drunk at a cheap beer bar. Blood flees his brain for the lower auxiliary station. Its activation is signaled by the tent pole rising under his trousers. The little exotic dancer knows what’s in store for her this evening.
Five hours of hard-core sex and relentless pounding for even the most well-traveled vagina and she surprisingly offers the farang an opportunity to satisfy a long-suppressed desire.
“You want go with two ladies?”
“Want?
This retired postal worker has been dreaming of this moment since flicking through his first stroke book.
“Damn straight I want.”
Normally the girl will pick out a friend, usually an aging hooker, who hasn’t been barfined in months.
The farang doesn’t care, because his skull is swirling in a rich soup of libido juices.
The two go-go girls invite him to the nearest short-time room, which has mirrors on the walls and ceiling. The lighting is a dim red. The girls 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.
It’s show time.
He has seen thousands of menage-a-trois porno movies and now he has a chance to play movie director. The girls initiate a lesbian show, since it’s better for them to play with each other than the sex-crazed farang.
Once more he doesn’t care, because they are faking the right noises and his eyesight is fading in and out with the hot Viagra 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 in saddle like the billionaire Nelson Rockefeller.
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, the scene becomes too pornographic and there’s nothing really pretty about a middle-aged guy acting like a high school football quarterback wreaking havoc on the opposing team’s cheerleaders.
Within thirty minutes it’s over.
His heart is thumping like a gorilla is attempting to breakout of his chest and the girls are dressing to get the hell away out of the room before he demands a second act.
He pays them. They leave him the satisfied farang alone, but not too alone, because he set his mobile phone on video record and he will be able to replay his performance to friends in foreign places via the magic of the internet. He lies on the pillows and says to himself, “I’m glad I didn’t go to Club Med this holiday.”¯
And the farang says this knowing that he meant it and he hadn’t meant anything for years.
Menage a trois in Pattaya.
We should all be so lucky.