[Continued from "Smooth as Silk (Part 2)."]

Of course we all went to the infamous sex shows in Patpong.

They were decidedly unsexy.  Much sexier, and more fun, was the Thai Tom Jones.  Yes, a Thai gentleman lip syncing to Tom Jones songs.  So tacky and fun.

The ex and Jesús went on a trip to the Northeast for a few days.  I either still had classes to complete or had already started my job at a law firm.  Either way, I didn’t go and they did.

Apparently I should not be left alone, ever.  Mickey and I went out.  We went to one of the sex clubs in the Patpong area.  Only the people putting on the shows, and the employees one could take home for paid sex were not women, but cute, young boys.

Mickey had apparently been to the go-go bar before, because he was greeted heartily.  We were shown a table next to the stage and immediately surrounded by cuties with lettered pins at their lapels.  They provided us drinks and silly, inane conversation.

Up on the stage were several young gentlemen, each of whom was wearing very tight, very tiny, white shorts with a numbered pin affixed, and black combat-style boots.  That’s it.  They were dancing, if moving lazily in one place to no discernible beat could be considered dancing.

Mickey explained to me that anyone with either a lettered or numbered pin could taken away for either short time or long time.  Then he explained what that meant.  Basically, if one wanted to take any of these lovelies out of the bar, one needed to pay the bar a fee for his time away.  That was NOT paying for sex, as what one decided to do with the boy or boys was up to the parties involved.

Mickey explained further that if one didn’t want to pay the bar (and save that money for negotiating for services rendered) then all one had to do was wait.  Wait until the bar closed when any of the boys who hadn’t already been taken away would essentially be free agents.  At that point they could either go home or keep hanging out with whomever they had already been hanging out for some time.

Of course most of the clientele at the go-go bar was male.  However, whenever a lady walked into the bar she was extremely popular because most of the go-go (numbered pins) and bar (lettered pins) boys were straight, but gay-for-pay, since the population willing to pay for sex is overwhelmingly male.

Mickey and I were surrounded by several very cute boys.  I was drunk, probably on Xanax as well, and having a great time being looked after by several little hotties.  At one point a very queeny American (or possibly Canadian) got pissed at me.  According to him, I, as a woman, was most definitely not supposed to be there.  He didn’t like that I was getting more attention than him.  Recall, Mickey, the gay guy who hated queens?  Well, he told the guy to fuck off, and we continued to bask in the spotlight into which the sweet-faced boys had cast us.

The stage soon cleared.  Mickey looked at me with a glint in his eye and assured me that I would like this next part.  “Mambo No. 5” by Lou Bega blasted out of the sound system.  It is rare to find music played in Thailand at a volume that is less than headache-inducing, and the go-go bar was no exception.  In just a few moments I would be very glad for the extreme volume of the music because it drowned out the sounds of my screams.

Two people got on stage, a thick, muscly guy, and a slight, slim kathoey.  The muscly guy stood behind the kathoey, dropped trou, and fucked the kathoey in the ass. Right there on stage.  As Lou Bega sung about Monica, Sandra, Jessica, Mary, and all the other ladies with whom he wanted to “mambo.”  The kathoey had tucked her package and played demure despite getting absolutely pounded up on a stage with several people watching.

The thick, muscly guy had himself a thick, muscly cock and she was taking it like a trooper.  Wow.  Wow.  Of course I’d heard the stories about Asian men having tiny cocks, and up to that point I’d had no reason to disbelieve it.  But that cock that was railing into that sweet kathoey’s ass was in no way small.

It has been established that I am a size queen.  I had seen quite a few cocks (since then I’ve seen a lot more), both the largest and smallest of which happened to belong to Latino (Mexican in particular) gentlemen, so I knew there was a size range that, at least in my sample size, had nothing to do with race.  But the guy on the stage in the go-go bar with his big, thick, hard tool going to town made it clear to me that certainly not all Asian men’s dicks would be unpleasantly undersized to me.

That night I found myself in Mickey’s hotel room with three or four adorable little bar boys.  We had arranged for them to come with us after their place of employ closed.  The nicer hotels frown upon guests taking prostitutes up to the rooms, but the staff also tends to be incredibly non-confrontational, so the “trick” is to walk with confidence and without shame.

The not-so-nice hotels require anyone going to a room with a hotel guest to leave his identification card at the front desk, and refusing to let some people further than the lobby without significant financial incentive.

To the uninitiated the cute bar boys we brought back to Mickey’s hotel looked like any other cute Thai boys, and therefore wouldn’t be picked out by any hotel staff.  The bar boys certainly didn’t look any different to me, at the time.  But generally those engaged in sex work tended to be lower class (the local term, not mine) and so comported themselves in a way that was obvious to anyone who knew better.  Their clothes, posture, and accents were dead giveaways to locals.

That night in Mickey’s hotel room I found myself on the floor with two Thai boys, one sweet and young, and one a little older and tougher.  Mickey’s taste in men had a wide range, and that night apparently he felt like being both a top and a bottom.  Mickey had made the final decision on who we brought back to his room; I was just along for the fun.

I did a lot of hemming and hawing regarding what I would do with the guys.  Kissing was definitely in, and I didn’t think the Ex would be too upset about that.  I knew fucking was not kosher.  The three of us fooled around, always with me in the middle.  I remember feeling like I was doing them some sort of favor just by being a woman.

Eventually I gave both of them head.  I kept my pants on the entire time.  Then we joined Mickey and his boy(s) in the bed, where Mickey and I chit-chatted in English while the boys talked to each other in Thai.  Mickey spoke some Thai, but not enough to be able to keep up with the boys when they were talking to each other.  I knew little more than that words for hello and thank you at the time.

Mickey had a big, dumb grin on his face.  I was a bit afterglow-y myself.  He said something along the lines of, “Aren’t they wonderful?”  I agreed that these guys were very nice.  He asked me about their skin.  Yes, it was velvety and soft and hairless and oh-so-delightful to the touch.

He then told me the Thai airline’s tag line:  Smooth as silk.  And I understood completely.

I swear.  True story.

[Oh, there's more; to be continued …]

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