his shorts, snaked her hand
in and found her way to the fly in his boxers. Stan sat back,
allowing her to search; he wasn’t shy, he was too excited and too
drunk to care.
She was
quick to find his member and it was already giving her a standing
ovation. She pulled it out right there in the bar and patted it
like a pet. Stan blushed, but didn’t stop
her and watched as she took his balls in her hands and squeezed
them.
There
was nobody else, save a chubby, bar-maid wearing a denim skirt over
a pair of pink stockings. She had placed some tissues and a small
bottle of Johnson’s baby oil on the bar counter. As Stan enjoyed another first-time experience in the ‘Land of Smiles,’ ‘Black Boots’
took a little oil on her hand, applied it to Stan’s manhood and
started to stroke him. He was shocked. The barmaid didn’t look,
didn’t care and continued drying glasses. Stan sat back with one
eye on ‘Black Boots’ hand and the other on the
door.
He was
reaching the point of no-return, when she slowed down then
stopped. “You want
more?”
“ Okay.”
“ Let’s go
upstairs.”
“ What’s
upstairs?”
“ Have private
room.”
Guilt had lost out to
lust, again. Stan finished his drink, pulled up his shorts and
followed her up a flight of broken stairs. They arrived at a room
that smelt of smoke and sex. It had an old pool table with a torn
cloth and a small, empty bar.
She locked the door
behind them, leaned him up against the pool table and rammed her
tongue down his throat. After several seconds of a sloppy snog, she
broke away. “You want fuck me?”
Stan
nodded.
She unbuttoned Stan’s
shorts and slipped them down to his ankles. She stepped over to the bar, rummaged around and found a dusty
bottle of Thai whisky and some mixers, hidden in a cupboard
underneath. “What you drink?”
“ Whisky soda.” Stan
replied.
He started to shuffle
over like a penguin to take his drink, his shorts still around his
ankles.
“ Stay there,” she
laughed. “I bring to you.”
He shuffled back
feeling foolish and waited. His heart thumped as she glided over,
placed the drinks on the side then fell to her knees. She pulled
down his boxers, took his manhood in her hands and tickled the tip
with her nails. She took him deeply in her mouth and caressed him
with her long, strong tongue. He glanced down; her eyes met his as
she started to suck him fast and furiously. He could feel
himself coming, again, and reached down to take her firm, left breast in his
hand.
She continued,
careful not to finish him, her musky perfume tickling his nostrils.
He reached down, slipped his hand through her dress and ventured
down her legs. He was about to reach her opening, when she stopped
him. He paused for a Mississippi count of three, then tried again –
this time she allowed him safe passage.
He reached down,
grazed her thigh and then continued further on his voyage until finally arriving between her legs.
Expecting a shaved, smooth moist opening, he was more than
gob-smacked when he felt a long, hard bulge, taped up and strapped
firmly to her inside leg. He felt it again - to be sure – it was
still there - fuck!
A tsunami of
aversion, revulsion, repulsion horror, disgust and despair swept
over him, amongst other emotions that had all arrived
simultaneously. He almost threw up. He lifted her(?) him(?) it from
him and pushed her(?) him(?) it away. He stumbled into his clothes
and dashed for the door.
“ I thought you knew,”
the lady-boy cried out as she stood back scratching her
head.
He struggled with the
lock, opened the door, legged it down the stairs and rushed out of
the bar. Then bolting blindly across the road, he side-stepped a
taxi-tout to be hit head-on by a Tuk Tuk.
ELEVEN
RAIN
WAS splashing off the window panes and the
wind howled like an angry child: it was a cold, wet morning in
England. Doris was in the bedroom and had just finished on the
phone, when Nigel drifted in from the bathroom.
“ Who
in and found her way to the fly in his boxers. Stan sat back,
allowing her to search; he wasn’t shy, he was too excited and too
drunk to care.
She was
quick to find his member and it was already giving her a standing
ovation. She pulled it out right there in the bar and patted it
like a pet. Stan blushed, but didn’t stop
her and watched as she took his balls in her hands and squeezed
them.
There
was nobody else, save a chubby, bar-maid wearing a denim skirt over
a pair of pink stockings. She had placed some tissues and a small
bottle of Johnson’s baby oil on the bar counter. As Stan enjoyed another first-time experience in the ‘Land of Smiles,’ ‘Black Boots’
took a little oil on her hand, applied it to Stan’s manhood and
started to stroke him. He was shocked. The barmaid didn’t look,
didn’t care and continued drying glasses. Stan sat back with one
eye on ‘Black Boots’ hand and the other on the
door.
He was
reaching the point of no-return, when she slowed down then
stopped. “You want
more?”
“ Okay.”
“ Let’s go
upstairs.”
“ What’s
upstairs?”
“ Have private
room.”
Guilt had lost out to
lust, again. Stan finished his drink, pulled up his shorts and
followed her up a flight of broken stairs. They arrived at a room
that smelt of smoke and sex. It had an old pool table with a torn
cloth and a small, empty bar.
She locked the door
behind them, leaned him up against the pool table and rammed her
tongue down his throat. After several seconds of a sloppy snog, she
broke away. “You want fuck me?”
Stan
nodded.
She unbuttoned Stan’s
shorts and slipped them down to his ankles. She stepped over to the bar, rummaged around and found a dusty
bottle of Thai whisky and some mixers, hidden in a cupboard
underneath. “What you drink?”
“ Whisky soda.” Stan
replied.
He started to shuffle
over like a penguin to take his drink, his shorts still around his
ankles.
“ Stay there,” she
laughed. “I bring to you.”
He shuffled back
feeling foolish and waited. His heart thumped as she glided over,
placed the drinks on the side then fell to her knees. She pulled
down his boxers, took his manhood in her hands and tickled the tip
with her nails. She took him deeply in her mouth and caressed him
with her long, strong tongue. He glanced down; her eyes met his as
she started to suck him fast and furiously. He could feel
himself coming, again, and reached down to take her firm, left breast in his
hand.
She continued,
careful not to finish him, her musky perfume tickling his nostrils.
He reached down, slipped his hand through her dress and ventured
down her legs. He was about to reach her opening, when she stopped
him. He paused for a Mississippi count of three, then tried again –
this time she allowed him safe passage.
He reached down,
grazed her thigh and then continued further on his voyage until finally arriving between her legs.
Expecting a shaved, smooth moist opening, he was more than
gob-smacked when he felt a long, hard bulge, taped up and strapped
firmly to her inside leg. He felt it again - to be sure – it was
still there - fuck!
A tsunami of
aversion, revulsion, repulsion horror, disgust and despair swept
over him, amongst other emotions that had all arrived
simultaneously. He almost threw up. He lifted her(?) him(?) it from
him and pushed her(?) him(?) it away. He stumbled into his clothes
and dashed for the door.
“ I thought you knew,”
the lady-boy cried out as she stood back scratching her
head.
He struggled with the
lock, opened the door, legged it down the stairs and rushed out of
the bar. Then bolting blindly across the road, he side-stepped a
taxi-tout to be hit head-on by a Tuk Tuk.
ELEVEN
RAIN
WAS splashing off the window panes and the
wind howled like an angry child: it was a cold, wet morning in
England. Doris was in the bedroom and had just finished on the
phone, when Nigel drifted in from the bathroom.
“ Who
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