to care. She sat up and smiled at the excitement
he was showing her - mission accomplished.
As he lay there
naked, aroused and waiting for what or who would come next, guilt
took a grip. He thought of his wife back in England and wondered
how he’d allowed himself to be in this predicament.
His guilt was soon
dispelled when she continued massaging him, caressing him, nudging
his member as he lay there. It pointed to the moon. He moaned then
reached up to brush against her small, soft, cup-cake breasts. She
smiled, pulled up her shirt and bra and allowed him to fondle
her. He squeezed her young, ripe nipples
gently as she moaned.
A bandoning any pretence that she was massaging his abdomen,
she gave full attention to his penis, utilising firm, sensual
strokes . He enjoyed the motions as she
brought him closer to climax with every stroke. His body suddenly
stiffened and his face strained as he came - almost in her face. She continued
stroking him with an even firmer grip and faster pace until he
raised his right hand. She stopped and smiled like the cat that’d
caught the cream. Wiping her wet hands on his waist she smiled and
demanded, “Don’t move till I get back.”
Stan nodded. She
stood up and stepped out.
He lay there for a
while catching his breath then reaching for the towel he pulled it
over his loins and wiped himself.
She returned a few
minutes later with a steaming, wet hand-towel, tutted that he’d
taken the main towel, removed it and tossed it to the side. He lay
there naked, suddenly feeling exposed. She dropped the hand towel
onto his crotch. Stan twisted his body like a lizard then realising
it wasn’t that hot, he laughed. She soaked up his sperm like a
horny mistress. She was rough. Stan was aroused. She finished. “How
you feel?”
“ Relaxed.”
“ You take shower then
come down for tea.”
“ Thank
you.”
He watched her leave,
had a shower then made his way downstairs. He drank a cup of warm
tea, paid, left a decent tip, took a card and walked
out.
Back
on the street and feeling the heat, he
escaped into a pink Toyota disguised as a taxi. A young man with an
Afro smiled through the rear-view. “You want see beautiful
lady?”
“ Where? How
much?”
“ Not far. Not
much”
“ Let’s
go.”
After a slow-moving
journey along Sukhumvit Road, they arrived at a street of bars lit
up by bright neon signs. Sexy, young ladies lingered outside in
short skirts, shorter shorts, swim-wear, night dresses, sexy
dresses, lacy lingerie and whatever else would catch the eye. Stan
had never seen so many beautiful girls in one place and smiled at
them all.
He stopped at a food stall serving fried crickets
and wondered how drunk he’d have to be to try one of those. Then passing a bar with a wooden door, he noticed a
couple of ladies sat at a table in lingerie. The one on the right
was the prettiest, thought Stan but she hadn’t seen him. The one on
the left did. She rose from her stool, glided over, reached for his
hand and led him inside.
Stan stepped into a
small, smoky room with a long bar to the right, leather booths to
the left and a stage area just large enough for a couple of girls
to perform - and they did.
‘ Hotel
California’ , played loudly around the room, but Stan wasn’t listening. He
was too busy ogling the girls on the stage. Two, probably a little
south of seventeen stood naked, danced erotically and stared at
themselves in mirrors on the walls. They seemed perfectly natural
sporting their stuff for all to see. Stan felt a little sorry for
them, but that thought was soon lost to lust.
He was shown to a
booth and smiled at by a farang sitting opposite. He looked around fifty, had
thick, brown hair and wore a pair of cream Chinos under a chequered
shirt.
“ What you drink?” a
pretty waitress asked. She had her hair tied back and her teeth
behind braces.
“ I’ll take a
Heineken.”
‘ Bony Nose’ peered
over. “Ze name is Helmut.”
“ Stan. It’s my
he was showing her - mission accomplished.
As he lay there
naked, aroused and waiting for what or who would come next, guilt
took a grip. He thought of his wife back in England and wondered
how he’d allowed himself to be in this predicament.
His guilt was soon
dispelled when she continued massaging him, caressing him, nudging
his member as he lay there. It pointed to the moon. He moaned then
reached up to brush against her small, soft, cup-cake breasts. She
smiled, pulled up her shirt and bra and allowed him to fondle
her. He squeezed her young, ripe nipples
gently as she moaned.
A bandoning any pretence that she was massaging his abdomen,
she gave full attention to his penis, utilising firm, sensual
strokes . He enjoyed the motions as she
brought him closer to climax with every stroke. His body suddenly
stiffened and his face strained as he came - almost in her face. She continued
stroking him with an even firmer grip and faster pace until he
raised his right hand. She stopped and smiled like the cat that’d
caught the cream. Wiping her wet hands on his waist she smiled and
demanded, “Don’t move till I get back.”
Stan nodded. She
stood up and stepped out.
He lay there for a
while catching his breath then reaching for the towel he pulled it
over his loins and wiped himself.
She returned a few
minutes later with a steaming, wet hand-towel, tutted that he’d
taken the main towel, removed it and tossed it to the side. He lay
there naked, suddenly feeling exposed. She dropped the hand towel
onto his crotch. Stan twisted his body like a lizard then realising
it wasn’t that hot, he laughed. She soaked up his sperm like a
horny mistress. She was rough. Stan was aroused. She finished. “How
you feel?”
“ Relaxed.”
“ You take shower then
come down for tea.”
“ Thank
you.”
He watched her leave,
had a shower then made his way downstairs. He drank a cup of warm
tea, paid, left a decent tip, took a card and walked
out.
Back
on the street and feeling the heat, he
escaped into a pink Toyota disguised as a taxi. A young man with an
Afro smiled through the rear-view. “You want see beautiful
lady?”
“ Where? How
much?”
“ Not far. Not
much”
“ Let’s
go.”
After a slow-moving
journey along Sukhumvit Road, they arrived at a street of bars lit
up by bright neon signs. Sexy, young ladies lingered outside in
short skirts, shorter shorts, swim-wear, night dresses, sexy
dresses, lacy lingerie and whatever else would catch the eye. Stan
had never seen so many beautiful girls in one place and smiled at
them all.
He stopped at a food stall serving fried crickets
and wondered how drunk he’d have to be to try one of those. Then passing a bar with a wooden door, he noticed a
couple of ladies sat at a table in lingerie. The one on the right
was the prettiest, thought Stan but she hadn’t seen him. The one on
the left did. She rose from her stool, glided over, reached for his
hand and led him inside.
Stan stepped into a
small, smoky room with a long bar to the right, leather booths to
the left and a stage area just large enough for a couple of girls
to perform - and they did.
‘ Hotel
California’ , played loudly around the room, but Stan wasn’t listening. He
was too busy ogling the girls on the stage. Two, probably a little
south of seventeen stood naked, danced erotically and stared at
themselves in mirrors on the walls. They seemed perfectly natural
sporting their stuff for all to see. Stan felt a little sorry for
them, but that thought was soon lost to lust.
He was shown to a
booth and smiled at by a farang sitting opposite. He looked around fifty, had
thick, brown hair and wore a pair of cream Chinos under a chequered
shirt.
“ What you drink?” a
pretty waitress asked. She had her hair tied back and her teeth
behind braces.
“ I’ll take a
Heineken.”
‘ Bony Nose’ peered
over. “Ze name is Helmut.”
“ Stan. It’s my
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