Village wedding

[MrX]

There was impotence. She led me through it but how many times did I furl before her now gynecological vagina? But sex isn?t wine. Traveling well, best stirred. As we fought and rallied we were also making love; hesitantly, then full on. The first time I felt her relief grip me. Then better and better.

 

Somewhere too I had read that knowing a woman?s infidelity increases male libido and his sperm?s motility. I sighed at my dose and then between clenched teeth thought, surely I can stand a little pain between eternities?

 

And finally, by letting the dark country of the orgasm fuelled by images of her customer cum filled cunt, remain unexplored

 

 

 

 

Who was it had that brief, newly minted, elaborated virgin? Did he realize or care? Was she gauche, tearful even? I shall almost certainly never know, nor even the exact date; though later we acknowledged the milestone passed. In one unguarded moment she said:

 

?Yeh long time I no go customer??I glua I no remember what I do make customer happy? but no have problem?

 

Under an intenser gaze:

 

?Ok ...I go upstairs? 30 minutes? same same every lady? wait customer finish.?

 

 

I saw how sometimes we watched the same clock. Then;

 

 

?Yeh I do this?. (thrusting her pelvis)?. Listen Romp I no do, customer never finish,? half apologetically

 

I couldn?t believe. She didn?t fool all of them when so very many came back for more.

 

 

 

 

The next weeks we made so much love in the afternoons that I started to hardly distinguish the days. She cried out my name. Being always cold, she would swathe herself in bedclothes, but careful to leave her cunt bare. Evenings she worked bar or not when I asked or I would go there too and we would tumble into it all over again. I think now this time was mostly the quality of mercy.

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile the date of the village wedding was looming. She had invited me then being impecunious said she couldn?t go and now it was changing again. Something stayed opaque. I offered her money out of a kind of reflex but it wasn?t that. I very much wanted to accompany her. The first time had been delirious and the prospect of a distance between us and punter-land, however scoffable, was enticing. So one afternoon after a particularly exquisite session I chose to draw pistols.

 

 

Yes, she wanted the money but I wasn?t welcome anymore. I asked why. She flustered part convincingly about it being a Khmer rural affair. I persisted. Then she reminded me of when I talked to the Scandinavian woman resident in her village about my family. Hadn?t thought to lie. She said my candour had lost her face with the village elders, her Mum and Dad, whoever. What kind of boyfriend was I already taken?

 

So she would go alone in 2 days time.

 

When I gave her the money the next day she was different. Dumb and tense. During our lovemaking I felt it morphing to fuck but lacked the will to stop. Finished she was sobbing:

 

?You boom boom same same customer?..first time ?maicoy tam before?.you boom boom me same you no like me?

 

I felt a whirr of guilty cog teeth grind inside my head and didn?t know what to say. Of course I had done it, she was a prostitute, right?

 

We left the short ?time room hurriedly.

 

 

The next night when she was already on the bus almost home I woke awash in sweat, dates swirling in my head. Checking and re-checking; 40 or 45 days since her last menstruation. I was almost sure

 

The communication satellite footprint didn?t reach to the Cambodian border however.

[MaiLuk]

:up:

 

>Yes, she wanted the money but I wasn?t welcome anymore.<

 

Ouch!

 

>I offered her money out of a kind of reflex <

 

I know that reflex ::

[Encore]

>There was impotence. She led me through it but how many times did I furl before her now gynecological vagina? But sex isn?t wine. Traveling well, best stirred. As we fought and rallied we were also making love; hesitantly, then full on. The first time I felt her relief grip me. Then better and better.,,<

 

I like your frankness about impotence. I too have been there, usually not lack of erection, but lack of finishing. But as long as I can get it up, I faked the lack of coming to save face. Sometimes, being pushed for a second round when this mid-late fifties man is empty, and didn't take his Vit V because of bloodpressure concerns, I simply stay limp, despite the keen attention of my companion. I should learn to be more assertive, and say enough is enough.

I did manage to say that two days ago, with my current favourite from a small bar in SC. She's the one who comes profusely on my oral ministrations (?), and when I declined a second round, she was consoled by another round for her. I am slowly succeeding to convince her I'm not a 16 yr old anymore. i like fucking, but hey, not all day long....

 

 

 

>And finally, by letting the dark country of the orgasm fuelled by images of her customer cum filled cunt, remain unexplored <

 

yes, dear Romp, let that go, just for once, for your own peace of mind, if you can switch off those images, life becomes more bearable.

 

Of course, strictly speaking, it is not her cunt being filled with sperm, just those little rubber bags they insert inside. It's all about appearance, and illusion.

 

 

 

 

>Who was it had that brief, newly minted, elaborated virgin? Did he realize or care? Was she gauche, tearful even? I shall almost certainly never know, nor even the exact date; though later we acknowledged the milestone passed. In one unguarded moment she said:

 

?Yeh long time I no go customer??I glua I no remember what I do make customer happy? but no have problem?

 

Under an intenser gaze:

 

?Ok ...I go upstairs? 30 minutes? same same every lady? wait customer finish.? <

 

Did she actually come to BKK a virgin? Or is there more underneath this?

 

 

 

 

>The next weeks we made so much love in the afternoons that I started to hardly distinguish the days. She cried out my name. Being always cold, she would swathe herself in bedclothes, but careful to leave her cunt bare. Evenings she worked bar or not when I asked or I would go there too and we would tumble into it all over again. I think now this time was mostly the quality of mercy. <

 

With some of the anguish you sometimes portray, it is wonderful to learn you've also had a few of these totally happily immersed times, when times stands still, and bliss is all over

 

 

 

 

>Meanwhile the date of the village wedding was looming. She had invited me then being impecunious said she couldn?t go and now it was changing again. Something stayed opaque........................................................Yes, she wanted the money but I wasn?t welcome anymore. I asked why. She flustered part convincingly about it being a Khmer rural affair. I persisted. Then she reminded me of when I talked to the Scandinavian woman resident in her village about my family. Hadn?t thought to lie. She said my candour had lost her face with the village elders, her Mum and Dad, whoever. What kind of boyfriend was I already taken? <

 

I had been wondering about that, when you told the story of the first village visit. The Scandinavian woman was a 'local', a western woman, and with agendas unknown to you.

 

> What kind of boyfriend was I already taken? <

 

I think we discussed this in the prelude of you going to the village. Then again, every situation is different, and you'll never know until you have tried being there.

 

I suspect I've made many mistakes in my village visits, but also experineced genuine cultural misunderstandings.

 

 

> Dumb and tense. During our lovemaking I felt it morphing to fuck but lacked the will to stop. Finished she was sobbing:

 

?You boom boom same same customer?..first time ?maicoy tam before?.you boom boom me same you no like me?

 

I felt a whirr of guilty cog teeth grind inside my head and didn?t know what to say. Of course I had done it, she was a prostitute, right? <

 

That borderline between a lover and a punter, a lover and a whore. Sometimes our testosterone confuses us. sometimes we don't know we're crossing the border.

 

Nice story! looking FWD to the sequal

[Central Scrutinizer]

Romp,

 

Good writing there. I like these angst ridden tales of your battles between yourself and your thoughts, fears, and the torment this sometimes causes. Easy to understand why, but still it can be painful and confusing at times, no? We go through much for those short moments of bliss. Nice stories. Looking forward to more.

 

Cent