Jetlag can cause some unique experiences, especially on a sex vacation. I’ve learned to not fight it. I sleep when I know my body wants to sleep while adjusting it as much as I can without causing too much nap taking and powering through. I’m on vacation and enjoyment of the vacation has a lot to do with how good I feel.
I go on these trips for the go-go bars. I find pleasurable the experience of perusing a line-up of girls until I find one that I connect with and take her out for the night or just home to fuck. Often the girls in the clubs are not hardened hookers, or less so than other sex workers such as at massage parlors or on the street whose aim is to go through as many customers as possible. Go-go girls are selling a lengthier service that includes more than sex and often they are selling themselves to meet a foreigner for marriage so during the encounter, there may be some genuine underlying interest.
During the first several days in Pattaya, I found myself exhausted around 6pm and by 8pm, it was miserable to continue fighting through sleep. Then I was sleeping until 4am or so, with a groggy rise so that I didn’t get moving until 5am or 6am. I felt great in the mornings and afternoon having received such a long natural sleep, but I was also sleeping through the hours of all the go-go bars. I knew this sleep schedule wouldn’t last long though, as I was staying up later and sleeping later every night. I simply needed to tide myself over with girls from other venues.
Pattaya Soapy Massage
It seemed obvious what I would do on my first full day: a Soapy! A Soapy Massage is almost strictly a Thai experience. Except for one short lived massage parlor in Atlanta (of all places), I’ve never found them anywhere else in the world, and I’d only experienced it once in Bangkok on my only visit there. I enjoyed it in Bangkok, though I found it a little expensive.
Soi Honey, named for Honey Body Massage, which is the most noticeable attraction on the street, was less than a minute walk from my condo. If the whole procedure of a full service massage wasn’t so impersonal, I’d likely avail myself of it quite often during the trip, but I feel it’s just a place to bust a nut and only slightly more enjoyable than jerking off. In fact, if I could have the bath and body massage by itself for half the price, it may seem like a better value to me.
The line-up area of Honey Massage was lacking the glass separation of girls and customers. There were two areas with girls on each side and some luxurious furniture in the middle. The girls were blasted with spotlights with the middle customer area somewhat darkened. A rather cute skinny woman in her late twenties approached me as I entered. She was wearing a sophisticated pant suit and sported a corporate salesperson smile.
“Hello, is this your first time?” she asked me. I’m sure that was an easy assumption for her as she was likely there every day.
My first thought was, “Can I have you?” I didn’t bother with actually asking the question though, didn’t think she’d want to give up her cushy mama-san job. There is just something about pant suits that gets me every time.
Honey Massage Bathtub
I’m not experienced with the bathtub scene. The “pick a girl and go fuck” routine never really appeals to me. How am I supposed to get excited about a girl I haven’t spoken a single word to or even shaken the hand of? I sat down to have a beer and try to work it out.
It was obvious that one side was the cheap side and another side was the more expensive side. The price difference was only 500 baht (2,500 and 3,000), so I knew I would be getting a girl from the more expensive side. After sitting for a few minutes, the pant suit made her way back over to help me.
“What do you like? Slim?” she asked. I guess there were a lot of bigger girls on the cheaper side and I wasn’t looking much in that direction. I told her yes, that I liked slim.
“She’s new and very young, but she’s more, 3,800 baht,” she said pointing to a young girl on the end of the expensive side.
“Pass.” I guess she thought I was into the young ones. I had noticed her sitting there but though young wasn’t more attractive than some of the other girls.
“Ok, there are slim girls…” and she began to point out several girls by number, many of which I’d already picked out myself.
I let the pant suit walk away and tried to determine a way I would decide on a girl. There really isn’t a good system to use that I’ve found. Sometimes I’d simply choose the girl that seems the most attractive and other times I’d choose a girl making eye contact. Maybe, I’d choose a girl that seemed eager to work, which I could easily judge by whoever was not playing with their phone. That later strategy would have made it very easy as only one was not playing with her phone. In fact, she was straight out staring me down. Her eyes were locked to mine and every time I would look at her, which was hard not to do because of her gaze, she would smile. I felt like I was being stalked… I couldn’t pick her, it would have been as if it wasn’t even my decision.
After narrowing the choices down to girls wearing two piece outfits so I could verify their midsection had no stretch marks, I finally picked the only girl that would look up occasionally and smile at me, Number 42. She struck me as a career soapy massage girl. She was completely at ease with the interaction and seemed to know she was going to be picked. I told the pant suit who called out her number and robotically motioned me towards the side of the room where the cashier was. Number 42 joined me there.
By the time we got into the elevator, I was already regretting my decision. Perhaps I was regretting my decision to come to Honey Massage at all. I just didn’t come to Thailand for this kind of inhuman strictly business sexual encounter. I tried to put those thoughts out of my mind and focus on the beauty I was about to rub my body up against.
At least Number 42 was truly a stunner. She had a wide tall figure with an ass and tits that bulged out but not any noticeable bulges anywhere else. As she walked, her hips bounced back and forth like a runway model. I wondered if she was doing that on purpose, if she had learned to do it, or if it simply came naturally to her.
“So are you the answer to THE question?” I asked her in the elevator.
Definitely more of a response to my demeanor than the question, her face brightened up with a big smile.
“What?” she asked.
“Number 42 is the perfect number. It’s a British thing,” I answered.
“Oh, I never hear that!” she said.
We exchanged names, but I forgot it immediately. I liked “Number 42” better anyway.
The upstairs of Honey Massage seemed like a redesigned hotel. There was a long hallway with equal sized rooms on either side. She led me to a room she claimed was a bigger room. It was laid out with a large bathtub near the door, a bed with old white linens in the middle and a couch and table near the window. Number 42 walked in and turned on the TV to a Thai station and then turned on the water to the tub.
An old Thai lady came in to offer me a drink. I ordered a Vodka and Red Bull. And got some foul-tasting Thai Red Bull knockoff.
After Number 42 was finished prepping the room, she came to sit by me. At first I thought we were going to make out a bit on the couch while waiting for the tub to fill, but instead she put her feet up on the table and rummaged through her purse, ignoring me the whole time. It’s not that she seemed repulsed by me, she was simply bored. Waiting for the tub to fill was something she must have done hundreds of times and she thought it was a good opportunity to do chores.
The chores were checking her lottery slips. She had dozens and the task was tedious to punch them all in on her phone. Thailand is known for having no casinos, so they all have to play lotteries, which arguably provide worse odds, less entertainment, and less economic stimulus. I wondered how much of her trick money she sunk into the lottery hoping to get a free ride out of her job.
“So, can you turn down a customer if you don’t like the look of him?” I asked.
“No, cannot,” she said.
“What happens if you do?” I asked.
“Cannot. No job,” she replied.
“You get fired?”
I’d wondered about that sitting downstairs. It’s common to hear of girls in go-go bars and other venues turning down customers for a variety of reasons. I’d even been turned down myself a few times, usually with the excuse of being on their period. The Soapies are different though, in Bangkok Soapies for example, the girls don’t even see the customer before being picked.
“How often do you not want to be picked?” I asked.
“Only Indians,” she answered bluntly.
“Indians? What’s wrong with Indians?” I asked. I expected her to say they are assholes. I knew that in India women were considered a lesser status, with groping and shaming and such being common.
“They smell bad.”
I chuckled. “Curry?”
“I don’t know, they just smell.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you clean them off,” I said. “I did not think smell would be an issue at a Soapy.”
“Does not work… they still smell,” she answered.
“They usually don’t pick me, they don’t like skinny girl,” she said.
“That’s good, so do the other girls like Indians? The ones that they pick more often?”
“No girl like Indians,” she said emphatically.
I felt a little bad for my Indian counterparts. If the Honey Massage Soapy girls were prejudiced to them, I wondered how hard it would be for them to pick up a girl at a go-go bar, and I couldn’t help but feel some gratitude for being born white in America.
The small talk persisted for 20 minutes or so, which was the length of time it took to fill up the bathtub. I guess they didn’t feel the need to invest in better plumbing even though every bathtub in the place was to be filled and drained multiple times per day. There went a good chunk of my 90 minutes with her, most of it spent sitting apart on the couch talking about lotteries.
“Ok, are you ready?” she asked me after checking the water. It was a perfect temperature and she didn’t even need to adjust it while it filled. She had some experience filling that tub.
We removed our clothes together and I finally got to see the body of Number 42. At least I managed to pick a real looker, even though she was about as exciting as a mannequin. She seemed to be around 25 with a mature body that had filled out the hips and breasts nicely. Her whole body was as white as Asian skin can get and her stomach was perfectly flat with not a trace of fat or muscles. Her long black hair was now pulled into a ponytail.
She motioned for me to get in the bathtub which I obliged eagerly, at which point she gathered her soapy kit, consisting of body wash and loofah. I momentarily scoffed at the loofah, knowing they are bacteria havens and doubting Honey Massage cared all that much about changing them out. Ah well, fuck it, if I really cared about germs, perhaps I should pick a different hobby.
She placed her kit on the edge of the bathtub and stepped gingerly between my legs. I finally felt some tingles in my crotch as the beauty knelt down and my balls rubbed against her knees as her arms draped over my encircling legs. I relaxed and let her do her thing.
First, she washed my chest, shoulders, and arms with the loofah as I made sure it didn’t contact my face. Afterwards, she did the most exciting thing in the session, it was all downhill from there. I can’t really explain why I felt that way, but this was the climax, maybe because it was such a big tease.
“Ok, honey, lift up,” she said as she pushed up on my ass from the bottom of the tub.
I lifted my now hardening dick out of the water which placed it just below her mouth. As she used the loofah to soap down my crotch, I waited for something, anything sexual, but all I got was more mechanical washing. I don’t know, honey, pretend to kiss or something! Something! But all I got was a stone faced beautiful girl washing my crotch as if she was a nurse. By the time she slid me back under the water, I was growing limp.
After we exited the bathtub, she toweled me off and then motioned for me to lay face down on an air mattress next to the bathtub. Then she dried herself and applied oil to the front of her body.
Her body felt great rubbing on my back and butt, it was that hard Asian body with soft perky natural breasts. She caressed me in long slow circles while holding most of her weight on her arms and legs. After she flipped me, she continued the same process spending a bit of extra time rubbing her tits around my crotch and semi-hard dick. The whole time I was looking into her eyes hoping for any sort of engagement. She gave me none, though, and I eventually gave up and tried to find excitement in watching her body. Although, just a beautiful body doesn’t always do it for me.
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