“Tell me again how hard you are going to fuck me”
It had only ben my second week in Thailand, but things were looking up.
“I am going to strangle you as I slam your head into the headboard and pound you into the mattress without mercy “
Her eyes went wide and bright.
“I don’t know this headboard. But I like this. I like this much.”
The making out on the side of the dance floor oscillated back and forth as I teased her, gracing my fingertips down her backside as I moved in and out with calculated precision. I gently pulled her hair back as I forcefully pulled her toward me. Always gentle with hard. Ying and Yang. She was warming up. Two nights earlier she only would give suggestive glances. One night earlier her tongue and lips permeated with hesitation. No worries. One more Redbull Vodka bucket and things were a green light. She looked at me longingly as she attempted to gulp down the bucket more quickly. She needed the confidence. An innocent girl looking for some liquid courage. Or so I thought.
As we walked out of the bar her body went from warm welcoming to frigid and mission focused.
“I must go home now. I am sorry. We have just met.”
“…and I should tell you something, there is more.”
Before I could respond she scurried off.
I thought hard on it the next day. Was it something I had done? Should I have filled her up with more booze? I thought of possible explanations – trying to avoid the most glaring one that one faces when meeting attractive women in Thailand. Does she have a dick?
I approached my first week in Thailand apprehensively. Not wanting a late night dong surprise like so many of the young excited male legions experience but are too fearful to admit amongst there friends. The silent shame of the late night surprise.
Things were different with me. I was man of experience after all. I made sure to dot my I’s and cross my t’s.
- Were her hands the size catchers’ mitts? +1/2 (no mitts, but definitely banana hands).
- Did her tone resemble a tuba? -1
- Did she have a softball stuck in her throat? -1
- Did she walk bow legged in her heels? 0 (no heels, inconclusive).
- Did she make too much initial eye contact? -1/2 (not lady boy strong contact, but possible prostitute strong contact).
- Could she easily find shoes in her size? +1
- Did it look like she could take me in a fight? 0 (many women can, inconclusive)
A -1.0. Not bad, but not a smoking gun either. I let it ride.
As the dirty talk progressed so did her breathing as she let her hand cup my hard on. She squeezed it firmly as she requested more talk. Dirtier talk.
“Tell me what you want? Tell me how you like? Tell me how hard…I want.”
I let my hand grace her sweet spot. No bulge. Overwhelming evidence was mounting that she was in fact a member of the fairer sex. I was basking in glory. I felt like I hit the lottery. Soon I would be getting dirty in the filthiest city in the world.
“So you want to get outta her? I got an excruciatingly hot guest house with a near broken fan down the road?”
She went frigid again.
“I sorry. I so sorry. I have boyfriend.”
I had been duped by the painfully obvious. Thailand had thrown me for a spin. The fucking elephant in the room and purveyor of all evil in the world: the mysteriously absent expat boyfriend cockblock.
I could have been mad that night. My balls were 50 shades of blue. But I rest assured that night and slept sound, for at least I finally knew that she was in fact a she, and the absentee cockblock was fellow countryman, and not in fact one of the most heinous creatures that roams the Earth: an Australian.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Turner Barr
After graduating from college in 2007, Turner Barr hit the open road and headed to South America. He didn’t have a specific agenda or goal – he just wanted to travel abroad, see some interesting places and meet hot foreign babes. He now runs the comprehensive adventure travel jobs guide Around the World in 80 Jobs. He also has an unhealthy obsession in deciphering Will Peach’s sexuality.