Seymour Totti’s Foreign Policy

Have a good one and may you all get what you wish for in stockings

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.She flung herself at the pole and, clinging with her right leg and both hands, spun around like a top. The toe of her left boot whizzed within inches of the head of a punter who was sitting at the stage side.

As the spin lost momentum she flipped herself over and landed, heels first, with a loud crash onto the stage floor. This was greeted with whoops and cheers from her colleagues around the bar, and blood curdling scream from Ton who had tucked herself under my right arm.

A second dancer didn’t even have the boots on anymore. Coming out of her spin she also went head over heels on the pole and planted her bare bum squarely on the head of another customer. Ton made a mental note to try that move sometime.

Most go go bars in Bangkok don’t have the space for such antics. It could be argued that the Long Gun doesn’t either but that is part of the attraction. The Long Gun is really quite a small bar so a certain amount of ‘audience participation’ is inevitable.

On an occasion when I was called upon to assist, the lovely Ton turned herself upside down between two poles. Coming out of the move she swung a leg over each of my shoulders and slid, pussy first, into my face. All I had to do was stick out my tongue for a sweet lick. I refrained, of course, for fear that she might lose concentration and crash to the floor breaking my neck along the way.

The Long Gun is one of Soi Cowboy’s oldest bars. According to Ton it currently employs about fifty dancers in total. Not all of them work the poles so spectacularly. Others do themed costume dances in which the themed costumes, such as schoolgirls and Hawaiian beach babes, are gradually removed during the course of three or four songs. There are slow and sexy lesbian routines and a selection of tricks from the infamous pussy shows that have intrigued and amused for donkeys years.

They don’t do a full complement of tricks. The show has been streamlined to fit within the context of a broader presentation. This is a good thing because some of them can get a bit tedious. But whistles, blow darts and banana torpedoes are all in evidence. “Need strong pussy,” says Ton informatively.

The blow darts are fired at balloons which are often held aloft by members of the audience.

The star of the bar is Apple. She’s a striking lady with punky, bleach-blonde hair. Unfortunately she is quite hard to catch. Ton tells me she doesn’t work every night. I went along on three consecutive nights, Thursday to Saturday, in the hope of buying her a drink and having a chat but was unlucky each time.

Even if you are not lucky enough to see Apple it is still a great show. Just remember, if you are bellying up to the stage, that you might be part of it.

See also: A gogo girl at Buffalo Bridge
See also: Paddy’s bar

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Scientists at the University of Montreal, Canada, had to ditch a study of pornography because they couldn’t find any men who had not watched hardcore movies before.

Their idea was to get two groups of men in their twenties to compare regular porn users with those who had never seen explicit films. The problem was, according to The Sun, they couldn’t find any blokes that had never watched hardcore porn.

“The objective of my work is to observe the impact of pornography on the sexuality of men, and how it shapes their perception of men and women.” Explained Professor Simon Louis Lajeunessesaid.

“We started our research seeking men in their twenties who had never consumed pornography but we couldn’t find any.”

So they were forced to change it to studying the habits of men who did use porn. They discovered that single men viewed porn for 40 minutes three times a week while those in relationships watch it 1.7 times a week for 20 minutes.

Do they get paid for this?

Not me specifically but it’s a question I’ve been asked a few times now. The last time was a gentleman who had been to Bangkok and found the girl of his dreams only to discover that she was, in fact, a ladyboy. So besotted was he that he took the girl back to his hotel anyway and had; “the most awesome sex imaginable.”

Now back home his nights, it seems, are torn between lurid fantasies of ladyboys and fears that he might be gay.

I’ve encountered plenty of ladyboys over the years and some of them are very hot indeed but my interest has always been tempered by the knowledge that they have a penis. I have tried but I’m afraid I can find little enthusiasm for anyone’s dick but my own.

Captain Outrageous, on the other hand, is an expert. He is also a journalist who appreciates the economy of a direct question. So I put the matter to him.

Captain, are you gay?
Hah, how many times have I been asked that one? No, of course I’m not gay. Gay men are aroused by masculinity and that doesn’t do a thing for me. When I’m walking along the road or sitting on the subway I’m not looking at other men I’m looking at women who, I might add, I retain a healthy interest in. But that for me is the acid test, when you find yourself turned on by masculinity is when you can consider yourself gay.

But what could be more masculine than a penis?
The penis is a remarkable and beautiful part of the body and it is a great shame that it is more usually attached to a sweaty, ugly male. But there is a crossover point, ladyboys are not simply blokes in drag. As they move more into the ladyboy lifestyle they lose the essential mannerisms of maleness and adopt those of a female. That’s when they start to become interesting.

But nobody is really fooled into believing that a ladyboy is actually female
Don’t you believe it. I’d wager there have been times that you have ogled some girl without realising she was a ladyboy.

What you have to remember is that not all ladyboys work in the sex industry. Its not in a bargirls interest to try to hoodwink a customer into believing she’s a genetic girl. Things can turn ugly when they get back to the hotel and he discovers she’s not.

Ladyboys work in all areas of commercial life and, whilst there is no hard line between them, they can be divided into three main categories.

The first of these is the perhaps most visible. They are the boisterous girls you will find working in the cabarets, at Casanova bar in Nana Plaza, or trawling Sukhumvit Road late at night looking for customers. These tend to be the larger build girls, and sometimes they are outstandingly tall. These girls are quite obviously ladyboys and anyone attracted to this type is well aware of his own sexuality, comfortable with it and doesn’t give a hoot what anyone else thinks.

The second type are the most numerous. Most of the time you are aware that she is a ladyboy but by no means always. You’ll find her dancing in go go bars such as KC3 in Patpong. You’ll also find her working in beauty parlours, the fashion industry, design, PR, cosmetics counters and anywhere else where you could expect to find regular girls working.

They are very feminine but its their hands and voices that give them away. Their allure is quite difficult to describe. Not quite like that of a girl but definitely not that of a male. They are a third sex altogether. A female with a sexual appetite every bit as urgent as your own. People who are attracted to this type regard themselves as totally heterosexual but have a taste for adventure. They yearn for something more, something forbidden.

The last type are the least visible. This is because the changeover is almost complete and they are outwardly indistinguishable from genetic girls. They started taking hormones at a very early age, side-stepping puberty, developing natural breasts and abolishing the need to shave their chins. They rarely work the bars and if they do it only to raise enough cash for the operation. You can be attracted to this type without ever knowing she is a ladyboy.

I suppose if you are into anal they are the ideal companion then?
I’ve told you before sex with a ladyboy is explosive, you should try it yourself sometime.

Site: Captain Outrageous
Blog The Third Sex
See also: Interview with a pornographer

Asha has nothing to do with the story, she just looks great

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She was in tears. I don’t like making girls cry but this was beyond my control. “It’s p-p-purple” she wailed. I pointed out that it had been but now it had mostly faded to a yellowy-brown.

Then she begged me to tell her again about the flight of stairs in the Kathmandu hotel where the second from top step had snuck out from beneath me and left me to bounce down the rest. Largely on my right buttock. This was rewarded with another peal of laughter

I decided not to mention the indignity of the following morning when I’d had to squeeze said buttock, rather gingerly, into the confined quarters afforded by a 24-seat Yeti Airlines turboprop for the flight to Pokhara.

I slid down into the bubbles. She slipped in facing me pushing her thighs beneath mine and my legs around her waist lifting my bum a little off the bottom of the tub. “OK?” she asked. OK, I confirmed. She began to soap both of us all over, I closed my eyes.

Pokhara is about 20 minutes flight to the west of Kathmandu. To one side of the town is the Phewa Lake and the World Peace pagoda. To the other is the mighty Annapurna, arguably the most beautiful section of the of the whole Himalayan range.

It is possible to trek around Annapurna, you need to budget three weeks. It can be done quicker, I’m told, but it depends on the stamina of the individuals in your group and the length of time it takes to acclimatise to the altitude. I had nothing like that amount of time. I had only a few days so my plan was to fly into it.

This, of course, required me to cram my dented derrière into and even smaller aircraft. A micro-lite, owned and operated by the Avia Club of Nepal who offer Skytreks of 15, 30 and 60 minutes.

After a journey like that I wasn’t going to settle for anything less than the full monty so the following morning I presented myself at the airport where I was bound and trussed in windproof clothing in preparation for the flight.

Despite the extra padding the runway still felt like it was made of corrugated iron as we barrelled along to take-off. But all pain is forgotten, along with any apprehension about flying in a motorised hang-glider, the moment we lift off.

We bank, fly over the town and follow the Seti gorge toward the mountains. Below there is a patchwork of implausibly remote farms held together by threads of footpaths and small roads.

There is some turbulence as we pass through a thin layer of cloud but emerging through the top the view is so stunning that I almost forget to breathe. The summits of the mountains seem so close and so crystal clear it feels like we could just fly onto them. But at an altitude of about 12,000 feet we are probably not even halfway up.

The pilot cuts the engines and suddenly there is silence. We glide across the roof of the world with only our thoughts and the wind in our ears. It is a special moment indeed. To the west I can just see the summit of Dhaulagiri, where the last alleged evidence of the Yeti had been found. To the east the mountains stretched off as far as the eye could see.

Right in front is the spectacular fluted summit of Machhapuchhre or Fishtail mountain. It commands most of the attention. After what seems like only a few minutes the motor is restarted and we start the journey back flying over Sarangkot and the World Peace pagoda. My sixty minutes was up. I was so enchanted by the experience that I quite forgot to brace my buttocks for the landing.

Ouch! I said. “You OK?” asked my masseuse again. Yep, I said, just have to remember not to put all my weight onto the right side. On the bed she gave me an excellent massage, gently rubbed some tingly stuff into my bum and then took me back into the heavens for another 60 minutes.

See also: Raising the bar in Kathmandu