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Filthy Bits - How I Almost Drowned In Seaweed At A Bangkok Brothel


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I moved to Bangkok, reluctantly, against my better wishes, for the company I was working with.

 

One thing I soon learnt from my Thai workmates was that big business is often negotiated in brothels, which pretend to be office towers.

 

The first one I ever went too was a building 15+ stories high, with a group of 8 business friends and myself to celebrate a recent win we had,

 

We arrive in a lift at a high floor and ushered into a large dining room.

 

Girls are presented in rows to say hello to us, and we are expected to choose a "friend" for the afternoon, there will be no more access to computers for work, we'll have to manually do our data entry.

 

Menu's appear, the "boss" chooses a range of meals, food arrives with more girls and generally it's a lively large table of fun.

 

Similar to one of my first Thai girlfriends, we are mostly hand fed the food, drinks flowing. Dam good fun as I am not paying.

 

With girls on our laps, beginning to lose clothing, I am wondering to myself "Where the fuck do we fuck?"

 

I finally notice doors leading off the large dining room, each is a very large bedroom, as there are a few more of us than rooms, I'm told we'll take turn using rooms or go to other rooms. However going to other rooms is decided against team building moral, we must share! Rooms, not girls thankfully,

 

I decline but am told I can't, I must go into a room with my "friend", a buxom lass I quite like.

 

So here I learn a number of very important things about Thai high Rise brothels

 

1 - If a Thai girl has a big bra on, most likely she is as flat as a tack - odd expression but accurate, flats are pointy, like her nipples coming our of her rib cage, no boobs)

 

2 - NEVER NEVER NEVER sit naked in an empty spa and then ask the girl to turn the water on full~!

 

3 - Never drink too much

 

Why?

 

1 - she was flat as a tack and oddly hairy. I couldn't take my eyes of her flat chest and hairy black bush, it was not appealing.

 

2 - Naked I waited, as I stared at her cunt as she bent over, cunt aimed at me, she turned on the water jets and out shot rancid seaweed and water, the smell was over powering, she screamed and ran outside, leaving me naked, drenched in green stringy water and stark naked, yes I said it twice as by now friends have appeared to see why she ran out and are looking in.

 

I have NO IDEA where to turn of the water, it's still shooting out, getting hot, I am struggling to get out of the bath because

 

3 - I have drunk far too much, my balance is not good, Seaweed is slippery and I am trying to run from an invisible seaweed monster that's intent on melting me with the now boiling hot water, the smell changes from rancid to seafood cooking.

 

I can't get out, I fall out of the spa bath, partially dragged by hysterical (with laughter) friends and more semi-naked and nude girls. Miss Tiny Tacks has disappeared, and as Thai males often do, they are poking my genitals "To make sure I am ok"

 

I am not ok, I am covered in green shit, I smell like green shit, I am naked and cold, except my feet have been burnt, and my straight Thai friends are all trying to poke my dick and the girls are laughing at me. I shrink, to tack size.

 

So I have a shower, get dressed, and sit at the dinner table alone for the next two hours as my friends have fun in the various rooms.

 

May I just note.

 

The food was quite good.

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It's a terrible and unjust thing, that this happened to you in your early days - embarrassing lessons learned. I think perhaps the principle that should be followed is similar to the principles I apply during third/developing world travels, when choosing places to eat, or selecting drivers. For a few years some time ago I was something of an educator/glorified tour guide taking groups on trips into the hinterlands of Asia, and these are the chief decisions to be made: what to eat, how to transport the group. My principles concerning food and transport, usefully applied mutatis mutandis to brothel, bathtubs, and demimondaines:

 

- Do not go to the fanciest restaurant,not the one with tablecloths and a twenty-page menu that covers every major dish from all corners of the world, lackeys standing around behind glass windows and so on. Go to the place that is moving product, turnover, no matter how run-down it may appear, the grill is hot, the ingredients fresh from the field and market, the food has not been standing in the sun getting massaged by flies. If local people in the know favor the place, you should too. Don't be fooled by high prices and fancy bells and whistles. (A fat and rosy-cheeked, healthy chef is also often a good sign, though how this translates to picking your company for the night, I'm not sure. Bouncy, full of energy, and in good spirits - good for chefs and girls.)

 

- Don't pick the shiniest new vehicle and the young, English-speaking driver in the limo driver suit. Find an older driver who's been navigating those mountain roads with a piece of shit bus for a decade or more, make sure he has a family that he's responsible for - and preferable, that he has a pension, perhaps from the gov't transport agency or bus union - in other words, something to live for, something greater than just the money he'll get from your employ, he needs to be looking at the bigger picture, long term benefits... An unscratched new vehicle may look nice, but you want the beat up old bus that is simply and well-maintained, the one the driver's not going to be afraid to bump around a little - but one that he's confident in the brakes and steering, a vehicle that can generally be repaired with a wrench, hammer, and bit of rubber tubing. More important to have a driver who knows how to avoid accidents, than a seatbelt.

 

Follow these principles, and while you may not end up with the prettiest young thing in the shiniest most ridiculous room with rotating bed and en suite jacuzzi, you may well get quality service, with a good attitude, at a more-than-fair price. (You may also get herpes on gonorrhea, but that concerns a different set of principles...)

 

YimSiam

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I thought it was bad enough when the MP ran out of hot water and suddenly I was being drenched in ice water. You can keep the green shit. (Maybe she turned on the septic tank.)

 

A colleague topped me with the ice water though. He was in the MP when the cold water ran out and he was hit with nearly scalding hot water!

 

 

p.s. When I lived in the lower north in the '70s, I used to go over to the local JUSMAG branch to BS with the guys, drink their booze, and watch the movies. (They knew I was a combat vet, so I was always welcome. Moreover, I still carried a red ID card in the inactive reserve when I started going there.) Anyway, I wandered over one evening to find almost no one around. While I was standing there, a car with some Thai Army officers drove up. They said they were looking for Major Jim, a grunt officer from Florida. I told them I was the only one around. But they had been ordered to bring back Major Jim, and they were going to get Major Jim.

 

They invited me to go with them. Well, it was more like they insisted. I thought, what the hell ...let's see what happens. They took me to one of the top restaurants, where a dozen or more Thai officers were seated at a long table. I was proudly shown off and welcomed, even though I could see a few thinking ... "Who the hell is this guy? He's not Major Jim." Anyway I enjoyed a great meal and had a lot of fun. I decided I liked being Major Jim, since it certainly beat being a lowly buck sergeant (which is all I had ever been).

 

Towards the end of the evening, it was announced that Major Jim would draw the winning name out of the hat. I pulled out a slip of paper, and it had the name of a young airborne captain. He hooped in delight, and they tossed him a key. He ran right out of the restaurant. It seems the prize was a hotel room for the night with the hooker of his choice.

 

A few days later, I ran into the real Major Jim and told him what had happened. He said, "Better you than me." It turned out the dinners were a monthly occurrence, and Major Jim was delighted to have escaped one.

 

I'd always wondered what JUSMAG advisers did

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This is exactly the type of posts that led to my original NanaPlaza addiction.

 

People that have actual experience in Thailand. Real men....real sex....a smattering of combat experience thrown in (thank you Mac).....

 

Great post...I also felt anger and disappointment when the bra came off could almost smell the green stuff reading your post.

 

Thai360 rocks!!!

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Real men....real sex....

 

Someone called PretendingToBeMale fails to get laid in a whorehouse, and we applaud 'Real sex, Real men'? Our standards are on the low side!

 

But yes, acockasian - I agree with you, the right kind of post. Looking forward to more, even if not as frequent as in some days.

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I could tell about my encounter with what I thought was a girl, but after I'd been here longer began to wonder about. On second thought, I don't really want to remember that. After all, I was new ... and it looked like a girl. :(

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I was once honored guest in Laos at an International Women's Day party in a whorehouse by a group of my students, at least half of whom were women, most representing government offices: cops, immigration officers, provincial governor's assistant, local business people. It was a chaste and decent party - good Lao food, lots of local white lightning, all served by teenage girls sent to work in the provincial capital whorehouse from Khmu and Thaidam villages in the mountains nearby who - for the early evening, at least - enjoyed a day's work that did not involve a trip down to the short-time rooms below. I loved how my Lao friends were completely capable of planning and enjoying a party celebrating women's day in a whorehouse chock-a-block with, um, young women in the world's oldest profession, without the least sense of the irony or contradictions involved... Sohk dee duh, puusao lao!

 

YimSiam

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I could tell about my encounter with what I thought was a girl, but after I'd been here longer began to wonder about. On second thought, I don't really want to remember that. After all, I was new ... and it looked like a girl. :(

 

I think I met her in Cambo, after a substandard blow job I kicked him out.

 

I was once honored guest in Laos at an International Women's Day party in a whorehouse by a group of my students, at least half of whom were women, most representing government offices: cops, immigration officers, provincial governor's assistant, local business people. It was a chaste and decent party - good Lao food, lots of local white lightning, all served by teenage girls sent to work in the provincial capital whorehouse from Khmu and Thaidam villages in the mountains nearby who - for the early evening, at least - enjoyed a day's work that did not involve a trip down to the short-time rooms below. I loved how my Lao friends were completely capable of planning and enjoying a party celebrating women's day in a whorehouse chock-a-block with, um, young women in the world's oldest profession, without the least sense of the irony or contradictions involved... Sohk dee duh, puusao lao!

YimSiam

 

This is what I love about Laos.

 

An example from me - Brother in law, wife with brand new baby, he got no sex, very frustrated, buggers of to whorehouse, everyone knows he's going, wife included.

 

He returns, drunk and satisfied, wife and his mother, not mother in law, lay into him, lots of argument until morning, wife grumpy for a week, after which everything back to normal, brother in law thinks twice about whorehouses, probably makes note to self about discretion, new baby didn't notice any of this.

 

Another beautiful week in paradise.

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