Archive for August, 2009

[Continued from "Smooth as Silk (Part 1)."]

We went to Bangkok.

The study abroad program for which I’d signed up was sponsored by Chulalongkorn University, Thailand’s most prestigious university.  However, when we arrived we were told that our classes would take place not on the university’s campus, but at the YMCA hotel.

The YMCA in Asia is not the the YMCA in the US, at all.  Well, the original idea is the same, that young Christian men should be able to have clean, well-appointed places to stay, but in Asia that developed into very decent hotels while in North America if one is staying at a YMCA he’s a short step above homelessness.

The classes were to be held at the YMCA where most of the students happened to be staying.  The (man who would become the) Ex and I stayed in the cheaper, tackier, hotel next door.  I needed my student loan money, which was meant for one person, to allow both of us to stay the entire summer so we did everything budget.

The study abroad program organized several activities including social mixers and cultural events.  The first of these events was a lunch.  I sat next to a guy who introduced himself as Jesús.  We chatted through the meal and learned that we lived a block away from each other in San Francisco.  He was very charming and enthusiastic.

I introduced Jesús to the Ex.  They hit it off and agreed to work out together.  At the time the concept of a gym was a new thing in Bangkok, but the Ex was determined to use his abundant free time wisely.  Our tacky, cheap hotel had no gym equipment to speak of and the Y had a tiny, sad “gym.”  The Ex and Jesús agreed to try out the two gyms in the neighborhood together.

I went to class in the mornings, then we, along with the Ex, explored Bangkok.  I was most definitely experiencing culture shock.  Up to that point I had been to Baja, Mexico, and British Columbia, Canada, neither of which is all that different from what I was used to living my entire life in California.

Bangkok, Thailand, on the other hand, was so, so different.  Firstly, it was hot.  It was very hot.  And it was humid. Very humid.  The previous summer I had been to Chicago so I thought I understood “hot and humid.”  I had no fucking clue until we exited the plane onto the tarmac at BKK.

The heat and the humidity were each oppressive in their own way.  It was difficult to breathe in the moist, hot air.  The sun was strong so I slathered on sunscreen, which, along with sweating all the time, made for a lovely breakout that lasted several weeks until my skin adjusted to its new environment.  Even after that I had to accept that my skin would just be shiny all the time.

Because of the heat and humidity, businesses in Bangkok utilize air conditioning to lure in customers.  Some would say air conditioning is overused in Bangkok.  Certainly if one plans on being inside for any period of time one should bring some sort of wrap because it gets damn cold when the air conditioning is on full blast all the time.

The window air conditioning units dripped–everywhere.  When negotiating the sidewalks one had to avoid what we dubbed “the mysterious drip” because that water was black and gross and stinky.  One also had to avoid the dips, potholes, pipes, and other hazards.  I got into the habit of calling out, “Tort!” when I found something I had to avoid for safety’s sake.  This, sadly, was a result of law school torts class.  (Law school really fucks with one’s head.)

It hit me hard how different it was there.  People thought differently; the things I thought were important Thais didn’t necessarily.  It was most definitely a learning experience.  People moved slower, probably because it was so damn hot.  Traffic was horrible.  Walking was so odd that we often had cabbies pull over to ask us if we were going to the airport because as foreigners that’s where we must have been going.  The whole damn place smelled of mildew.

Those of us in the study abroad program, plus the Ex, went out often.  We broke off so that our group included Courtney, Gonzalo, Jesus, Mickey, Michael, the Ex, me, and some others whose names I don’t recall.  The Ex and I learned whom we could trust for restaurant advice, and who had palates that were less than adventurous.

Courtney didn’t like most of the food and complained that there weren’t enough black guys for her taste.  I suggested that perhaps if she wanted to be surrounded by black men rather than Asian men that she should have tried a study abroad program in Africa.  She also talked down to Thais in English in a way that was embarrassingly disrespectful.

Gonzalo also lived in San Francisco.  He also already had a great job lined up.  He was some sort of moot court superstar.

Jesús liked his food spicy, very spicy.  He was from Florida, but had moved to San Francisco for law school.  It became quite apparent pretty quickly that along with his significant charm, Jesús had an unhealthy sense of “adventure.”  For example, several times that summer he asked strangers, on the street or in a dance club, if they had any drugs, specifically pot, special K, ecstasy, and GHB.  He didn’t bother asking for Xanax or Rohipnol because those could be had over-the-counter at any number of pharmacies.

Mickey was gay.  Gay.  Gay.  But hated queeny gay guys.  He was at least ten years older than the rest of us, and had been practicing law for years, but was looking to get an LL.M. and change his area of practice.  Mickey had an appetite for young Thai boys.  Not boys, but very young, very sweet men, including prostitutes.  He was a vegetarian so he was a great dinner date to some more interesting restaurants.

Michael had gone to college in Hawaii.  He had been to Thailand before, during Army Ranger training.  He was always dressed very well.  Michael had a thing for high-class Thai women from good families.  When we went out dancing he was always the driving force behind “taking it to the next level,” i.e. moving on to the next huge, classy, expensive dance club.  He always arranged for us to have bottle service at a table with a good view of the hotties on the dance floor.

There were some other folks in the program, one of whom I recall was apparently from South American money.  Money that bought neither manners nor cultural sensitivity.  At one point she said, when the issue of getting receipts for goods so the VAT could be refunded at the airport when leaving the country, “How do we get receipts?  These people don’t even speak English.”  Uh, duh, they speak Thai.  A few of the ladies fell under Jesús’ spell, but they were just as crazy as he, but not nearly as interesting.

We went out drinking and dancing a lot.   Most days in class involved being a bit (to a lot) hung over.  I developed a taste for Thai whiskey “on rock.”  There were several ice cubes, but since the Thai language doesn’t have plurals, most people who served us simply did not add an s to the end of the word they knew meant ice.  I began drinking Thai whiskey because it was cheap, and I drank it over ice because it couldn’t be watered down, something that often happened when getting mixed drinks in bars.

One day the Ex, Courtney, and I were hanging out together.  It was some sort of official holiday so many businesses were closed.  The three of us were bored.  Courtney asked us if we wanted some Xanax.  Neither the Ex nor I had had it before; Courtney assured us it was fun.  Sure, what the fuck, we had nothing better to do.  So we popped some pills, and drank some whiskey.

We spent a lot of time around the Patpong area of town.  It was close to our hotels and it had a high concentration of street food, bars, and shopping.  It was fascinating to see the two Patpong roads open to traffic during the day and completely packed with merchants’ stands at night.  Each evening a sophisticated system of street carts was set up, and each morning they were taken down.

As foreigners we were targeted by the merchants, the touts for clubs (both sex and otherwise), scammers, and anyone else who saw us as stupid sources of easy money.  It was annoying at the very least.  Mickey, who had been to Thailand several times before (when he developed his taste for Thai boys), taught us to say, “No, thank you” in Thai, which helped a bit.  However, walking through the area was still extremely irritating.

Until the night we took the Xanax.  We didn’t care about anything.  Oh, you want us to buy some cheap knock-off watches?  Oooh, they’re pretty.  But I don’t want one–oh, what’s over there?  That’s shiny.  Everything was just fine.  We weren’t even bothered by the incessant shitty pop music blaring from clubs.  Normally, we avoided certain areas because the competing music grated the nerves.  Not so with Xanax.

I found myself less cranky with everything when I took Xanax.  And it was a lot of fun to mix with alcohol.  No, kids, mixing pharmaceuticals and alcohol is not a good idea.  It is irresponsible and stupid.  And fun.  But only in a place where both alcohol and and such substances are dispensed without the need for medical supervision, of course.

Other than pharmaceuticals we had fun experimenting with food as well.  There were outdoor food courts, food carts, cheap restaurants of all sorts.  The Ex and I had a favorite cart that sold Chinese noodle soup.  We liked a cart that sold tiny pancakes with robins’ eggs and little Vienna sausages to students as they got out of a Catholic school.  I really liked salad-plate sized very thin crepes that were sold with sugar in a form that can only be described as hairy–in long, thin strands.  And the curries.  Oooh, and the spring rolls.  Mmmm, meat on a stick.  Fish balls. Not to mention all the packaged food at the convenient stores–we tried a lot of chips flavored for the Thai palate including lobster and shrimp.  We ate a lot of really good food.  And some shitty food, too.

The Ex couldn’t go for very long without eating Mexican food, something about which I was unaware until we were in Thailand.  Despite the similarity in ingredients in Thai food and in Mexican food Thais cannot make decent Mexican food.  We tried, well after we should have given up, to find a restaurant that had tasty Latin-inspired food.  We even tried places near the Mexican Consulate thinking that staff there would want to eat something from home.  We didn’t realize at the time that the Consulate had its own kitchen staff who could not only bring important ingredients like cheese into their kitchen, but actually prepare it properly.  Thais just don’t know how to use cheese.

And of course there was the sex … for which I paid.

[To be continued.]

I swear.  True story.

Juree’s perfect for her because she’s so stupid she would never figure out that Erica needs to be put in a mental hospital.  She would probably do quite well  in the gentle ward on half a gallon of drugs four times a day to make her almost catatonic.  She would still lie to her psychiatrists but oh well, she’d have to go through her inner conflict and find a semi-sharp (they wouldn’t allow sharp ones) object and thunk herself to death.  She’d go through a lot of pain and she doesn’t love me and her last thoughts would be of me [I wonder what else she has written in her little black book] and if she’d only truly loved me or at least told me she didn’t really then she wouldn’t be in the mess she was in.  She promised me she loved me she promised me she’d never leave me.  I let myself get vulnerable and look at the shit that happens to me.  Never trust anyone, never let anyone see what’s going on inside and they can’t hurt you.  I hope she’s thinking about me crying for her as she’s shoving her four fingers almost the whole fist into Juree’s hugely stretched and bleeding and quite diseased dirty cunt.  Well, if she thinks she’s ever going to touch me after catching God-knows-what from Juree, she’s wrong.  I most likely won’t talk to her but to give her her chain back and ask for my tapes.  I still keep hoping they’re not doing anything but I’m setting myself up for disappointment of course they’re doing something.  Even though Erica thinks she has control she won’t with her because she loves her so much.  She loved her before and she still did it with Amy.  I think the ultimate revenge would be to have sex with Juree.  I just don’t know if I could bring myself to do it.  sure I could, I wanted to, a lot, at one time.  Well, more than one time, lots of times.  But she was being faithful to Erica who at the same time was screwing Amy.  Quite ironic that Amy and Juree end up screwing and Erica and I end up in what I thought was a relationship.  I’m not even really tired.  I sure hope Erica’s having fun.  She’ll say it was a good by fuck for old times sake and she’ll never do it again.  Well, unless someone has really long arms it’d be hard (difficult anyway).  I know–it’s all a joke because Erica’s tired of me and doesn’t have the heart to tell me herself.  Erica thought I wasn’t getting home ’till tomorrow night.  I wonder if she’ll have the fuckin’ ovaries to tell me?  She’ll assume I haven’t talked to Shannon if a call tomorrow evening and talk like everythings cool, if I could do that.  I’ll have to talk to Shannon and tell her not to tell.  I’m really Goddamned cold right now.  Perhaps I should retire to my bed.  I’d just lie there and think though.  I want her to suffer and not because Juree’s gone but because she has to look at me every day and know she can’t have me.  I’m so afraid I’m going to give in.  She’ll only have to say one little lie to me, I believe it and I’ll be reeled in.  I have to be strong thought because I don’t want to get hurt AGAIN by someone who doesn’t even deserve my time.  Just let it go, don’t feel and everything’s easier.  I DON’T CARE!

I placed an ad on Craig’s List under Casual Encounters w4m:

Last Night of Freedom – w4m – 36 (mission district)

Tomorrow my ex-husband and his girlfriend are moving in. I anticipate some severe changes to my sex life, as I LOVE fucking in my own place. Come here tonight to de-christen the place. Have a big cock and be prepared to pound me hard.

I received a few responses.  This is one of them.

Him:  is this real ad? will this work?


Me:  Yes, the ad was real.  No, sending a pic of your dick will not work.

Him:  well it was just an eye catcher!! and thats a hat not a lamp shade lol

Him:  well can i see a pic? looking for a good time or a super model? i lick as good as i stick!!

Him:  whats up? you said big cock i sent it!!

Me:  Well, as last night has passed, I now have different requirements.

Him:  lol well do tell i read lot of blogs LOL

Me:  I don’t even know what you’re trying to say.

It could be that you read my blog:

Him: well i am saying tell me of your need? may i see a pic?

Me:  I am saying you are difficult to communicate with.  There are pics of me on Random Rim Jobs, you just have to look around.

Him:  wow great pic!! you dont look the type.but i love that look .sexxy with glasses.mmm so tell me more!!

[I have no fucking clue to which photo he is referring.]

Him:  twitter? lol i dont know how to use it what a dork!! 209 -555-9214 call me i need some info!! darrell i am in concord!! can i hear your voice? now that i know you are a real person.!! love that look!!

Me:  I don’t look the slutty type?  Thanks.  I like throwing people off.

Him:  well i dont see a one as a slut.we are grown.and have needs.well can we chat on the phone? i would love to meet you ? have some fun? s.f has a million rooms at hotels if it comes to sexx

Him:  may i call you? or do you have yahoo im? lets chat!! what do you do for out of the bed fun? cause i wanna go!!

Me:  Your communication style is troublesome to me.

I am a slut, and proud of it.

Him:  well i am not sure what you wanna hear? and i like sluts they no what da do? can we chat or talk on the phone?

Him:  well i would like to chat on the phone or im? i am 44 not old but dont know what you mean? lol will you train?

Me:  I want proper capitalization, punctuation, and spelling.

Him:  lol! .How funny You are!! you have a quick wit!! sweet!!.well sweets i am a great person with tons of jokes!! real gentleman open doors.pull back chairs.walk on the out side when walking down the street..but in life i am a class a driver trucker!! i cuss a lot .hate other drivers!! not much of a type.but can read and write..not a great type.but a cool person.great and sweet guy!! love to smile love-er of life.and just thought you were some one i would like to get to know!! but if not its ok!! and for you and that sweet pic!! i used spell check cail
i am just a down to earth person,nothing more nothing less.And for you i did a spell check muah!!

Him:  any thing to say?

Him:  but in the bedroom! ill lick and suck that pussy with my and fingers,stick a dildo in that ass ass well.lick and suck that ass.make you suck my big cock with your hair in my hands!! fuck any hole yopu wanna let me!! thats about that!@!

Me:  Call me shallow, but I really can’t get past your fucked up communication style.

Him:  sorry sweets!! will never call you anything but nice things!! and i like to talk on the phone!!

Him:  And rember i said i am a trucker!! not a writer..a real person who like to use the phone to speak!!

Him:  well call me? give me your number?or call and block it?my voice is deep and very sexxy!!209-555-9214 Darrell

Sexy beast!

Sexy beast!

Him:  well can we chat on the phone> then judge me? if you still feel the same way its a done deal?

Him:  i am not sure what your looking for? to fuck and suck? or a twitter person?

[He then began following me on Twitter.]

Me:  I want to fuck and suck a person who communicates effectively.

Him:  well thats funny!! just because i dont do email well? lol i am a 15year journeyman i can build a hose from the ground up!! read blue prints like a i drive big rig and have home land clearence.i can dive any thing.go any where. sorry i am not a book worm or what ever you are looking for. i am just a man,who does man stuff!!

Me:  I am not looking for a bookworm, I am looking to read an email w/o questioning what the fuck the person is trying, but failing, to say.


Him:  now can you understand that? my cock is big and my lips are soft and full!!my voice is deep and sexxy! women have told me i should do phone sex,that’s how sexxy my voice is!! here is my half naked pic.looks at them lips!!,and also two of my way hot friends..yes we do a three ways!!

Him:  well you are to snoty for me..if you did not have glasses in that pic .i would no even email you.i just have a thing for nice looking women in glasses..but your loos not mine.i am a great and swwet guy! you said your just a u r below me!! bye bye

Me:  Thank you.

Him:  thank you was the white-thing you have said!! but i blame your momma!! you seem like the kinda person that farts at the dinner tabel and wont say sorry.just ask does that smell like breakfast? pffft!!

Him:  lol i guess we are now hatefull friends!!

[Wow, I'm so sorry I've not taken this guy up on his offers.]

I swear.  True story.

I love the feeling of my pussy tingling when I’m horny. It’s sweet enough to remind me that it’s there.

Hey, you, I am your pussy. I need attention. I need a lot of attention. I’m an attention whore. I want a mouth on me. I want fingers in me. I want a whole hand in me. I want to be punch fucked. I want. I want. I want to feel full. I want to feel pain. I want.

My pussy obviously has a lot to say. She may be robbing me of thought, but I’m happy to let her. She should be honored. She is amazing.

I swear.  True story.

1:15 am

Got home from Monterey.  Got to see a really neat cemetery there, it was too cool.  The light makes a lot of noise.  But then so does my writing.  I am very cold, I think my tits are going to turn to rocks and fall off my body.  I’m just avoiding what I really have to think about–here goes.  Messages on the answering machine from Erica–call me, I’m bored (at the time thought that one was Kristin), laughing ball, pink elephants on parade, Rocky Horror.  So I call and talk to Shannon for a while but then [Step-Sister] has to use the phone.  So I let her then call Kristin, she tells me she doesn’t think Erica and I are going to work out and that we were better as friends after I told her that Juree’s been telling Erica she loves her.  So then I call Shannon back and we talk about various insundry [sic] things.  Erica wasn’t even there because she’s spending the night at Juree’s house.  Let me say I’m quite happy.  Supposedly, Juree has to move to either Stockton or San Diego and has to be out of her house by Tuesday because they can no longer afford it.  Tuesday in the middle of the month seems quite odd to me and I wouldn’t be surprised if Juree only said that to get DORKO TO GO TO HER HOUSE SO SHE COULD HAVE SEX WITH HER.  I can only wish ERICA WOULD SAY THAT NO I CAN’T HAVE SEX WITH YOU BECAUSE I LOVE SUZANNE AND IF I HAVE SEX WITH ANYONE ELSE, she’ll Break up With me and I dont’ WANT THAT BECAUSE I NEED HER AND LOVE HER SO MUCH.  BUT I KNOW THAT’S NOT TRUE BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T LOVE ME.  NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE ME.  What have I done?  Why can’t I be loved?  And I know Erica will have sex no matter what.  She DOESN’T CARE ABOUT RISKing a relationSHIP BECAUSE IF SHE DID She never would have risked the perfect one with Juree by having sex with AMY.  I HAVE BEEN SO GOOD TO HER SHE WANTED ME TO TELL HER I LOVE HER, AND I DID.  She coulD HAVE TOLD ME TO JUMP Off A BRIDGE AND I Probably WOULD HAVE DONE IT.  BUT NOW I’M NUMB.  I DON’T care it doesn’t matter because I know now that for some reason I don’t deserve love she wasnt fair to me she shouldve waited to start things with me until she was done with juree i deserve better than this maybe I dont I dont know anything anymore I wonder if I have to work tomorrow who cares erica should probably keep her job so her weekend commutes to either stocton or san diego can be paid for why should i care anymore no one cares about me its almost as if shannons doing it on purpose she keeps telling me im being taken for granted and now im rid of a dead weight i dont’t feel heavey i feel light now that i realize no one cares about me i feel heavy i guess ill just go on get out of school get out of here get away from the bother and the pain i know id get hurt but i couldnt see it so close i thought maybe all id done had done some good but it didnt im still the loser ill always be the loser because i dont deserve to win this isnt my fault why am i trying to make it maybe if id been home sooner to call she wouldve come to me instead shannon wouldnt give me jurees phone number because she said it wouldnt do me any good to call but i just wanted erica to hear my voice so she could feel the most extreme case of guilt possible im sure glad i didnt put a lot of eye makeup on today because wouldve run down my face by now i keep hoping its not true but i know it is theyre probably fucking right now well i sure hope erica likes the way she is in bed ’cause thats the only person wholl do it with her now she is better than me because she was only so much in love with her whenever they had sex why can’t someone be so much in love with me i already took the chain off and im going to ask for the tape back im hoping shell beg my forgivness and then i can be in power to say i didnt want her anyway maybe kristin was right maybe i am just lonely im not in love just stupid im an idiot why did i ever think i could think about caring about someon who is so stupid oh yea cause im an idot thats from kristen pertaining to kurt my thumb looks like a piece of paper it has so much writing on it i want to hurt her so bad i hope she feels so dirty after this that she does peel off all her skin and bleeds to death and i hope i find the body and the bathtub full of blood so i can drink it till im satisfied and till taste even better because its impure sins soaked blood.  I LOVE BEING SICK AND I HOPE SHE DIES WANTING TO BEG FOR MY Forgiveness BUT CAN’T BECAUSE I WONT TALK TO HER BECAUSE I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO, LIKE CLEAN MY ROOM, PICK MY NOSE, WAX A FLOOR, LICK A TOILET CLEAN, ETC.  I called I did everything for her and she’s fucking Juree–the cute one the perfect one the one who can do no wrong the only one she can ever love I’m glad I’m rid of her, she’s sick, she’s got some shit (ooh good sh hates that word) going on inside the fucked brain of hers I want her to kill herself because of me.  (I’m getting scared at myself because I really do mean this and I truly believe I would love to find the bloody body so I could laugh.)

You have been standing there for some time.

The gag fills your mouth.

It’s dark, the blindfold is tight.

You can see nothing.

The smell of His cologne hangs faintly in the air.

In your mind it feels like hours.

The air is cool against your naked skin, your breasts lay heavy on your chest, the perspiration settling on them.

You would like to relax, but you cannot.

The chains attached to the padded cuffs around your wrists keep you standing on tiptoe, your back arched.

You know that should you try to relax the punishment will be harsh and severe.

A tremor of pleasure runs down your spine as you remember the last time you were punished.

The lashes hurt so sweetly, you can almost feel the kiss of the cane as it connects with your buttocks.

You shift your legs, your labia parting slightly as your clit swells in expectation. You know that soon you will be punished.

Finally your legs can take no more.

From behind you He speaks.

“Well done, your stamina improves.”

Your heartbeat speeds up as your excitement rises.

“But you didn’t last long enough, so now you must be punished.”

As He lowers the chains, a smile stretches the muscles of your mouth, you know that you have pleased Him.


[Sexy as fuck. -- SSF]


I swear.  True story.