Seymour Totti’s Foreign Policy

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The last time I went in for supplies my condom man in Hong Kong had some Sagami 0.02 Premium in stock. “Said to be the best condoms ever,” he assured me, “made with the best quality materials.”

The line was unleashed onto the Japanese market last Valentines day dressed in a sleek little black number with gold blocking. Each condom is encased in it’s own little blister pack with a peel off top not unlike those little portions of butter you get on airplanes.

At 0.02mm thick they are certainly the thinnest and at HK$40 (US$5.16) each they are the most expensive. They come in packs of four but he’s willing to sell singly. I bought two and, because I’m a good customer, he also gave me the packaging.

The first attempt to use one didn’t go too well. I’d tried that evening but the partner I’d chosen was a student from mainland China down on a four week visa to fill up the bank account.

I hadn’t checked beforehand but these are made with polyurethane, they don’t have the elasticity of latex and they were designed for the Japanese market. We couldn’t get the damn thing over the head of my dick and, in the effort of trying, she put her fingernail through it. Polyurethane maybe stronger than latex but it is no match for a well manicured index finger

I decided to save the second one for my favourite masseuse in Bangkok, her hands are possessed by celestial beings. She can bring most men to an orgasm within minutes … but she doesn’t. She gets you almost there and then leans over and whispers “You want special?” Trust me, you cannot say no.

If anyone was going to get it on it would be her. I told her right at the beginning of the session that they were the most expensive condoms I’d ever seen. She was impressed and flattered. She treated me to an excellent bath and body massage before turning me over and starting work on my dick.

I should point out that I am perfectly capable of putting condoms on myself but in the heat of battle it’s good to have someone do it who is in a good position to check for wrinkles. She usually gets condoms on with such ease that you almost don’t notice. Not so this time. She got it over the head but it was so tight the old todger wilted in protest. And this was after a precautionary Viagra.

She removed the condom, nursed some life back into the truculent appendage and had another go. She pulled it over the glans and then put the glans in her mouth for safe keeping while she unrolled the rest of it. She worked the blow-job for a few seconds until she was sure I had a good stiffy before sliding up and trying to guide it into her pussy.

Unfortunately, while the blow-job felt pretty good, I could feel the condom squeezing all the time and as soon as she took me out of her mouth I started to go floppy again. We managed partial penetration but gave up in fits of laughter. We hugged for a while and finished off with a regular condom.

“No good” she pronounced as she transferred the debris to the waste bin afterwards. I’ll reserve my judgement until they come out with a larger size.

See also: Condom capers
Oh and those cute Japanese lesbians

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Paddy’s in Jalan Legian was the site of one of the 2002 Bali bombings. In defiance the bar, and its customers, moved a few doors up the road and carried on rocking. Today it is the probably the most happening place in all of Kuta.

Its also about the only place where you can pick up local girls despite the recently updated Lonely Planet guide’s assurances that most of the more raucous places attracted girls who were “looking for for a friend”. In my experience that was not the case. Maybe there had been a crackdown recently, who knows, prostitution is illegal after all. But if there had been nobody told the girls at Paddy’s.

There is certainly no shortage of raucous bars and discos but it seemed to me that in most places the girls were European and Australian and were looking to pick up bronzed and muscle-bound surfer dudes.

Good for them I say but in the past I’ve enjoyed some very happy times over in the nation’s capital, Jakarta and I was keen to renew my acquaintances with one of Asia’s best kept secrets, Indonesian Girls. And Paddy’s was clearly the place to do it.

From the street it looks pretty uninteresting but the place has a certain tardis like quality. The first thing you see when you arrive is a large long bar but as you pass through the entrance way a huge expanse of dance floor opens up to the right.

Bali’s nightlife starts late and if you go much before midnight there won’t be very many people around.

After midnight the first thing you see when you enter is a flock of those ladies looking for friends. Some of them are career hookers, some are just out for a good time, while others still are trying to earn enough cash to pay their way through college. They are all friendly. Buy one a drink, have a dance and who knows you may find one, as I did, to while away a few balmy days up in Ubud. The islands cultural heart.

See also: She supersized me
See also: A song and dance

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Lightning streaked across the sky accompanied a crack of thunder so loud and sudden that I swear my feet actually left the floor. I glanced at Geaw but she seemed unmoved, she was gazing at the light show. I figured it was my descent from shock that was responsible for moving me a few inches closer so that now our shoulders were almost touching.

We’d been standing on my balcony watching the storm. Geaw hadn’t come round for a shag she’d come to have a rather impressive tattoo on her back photographed. A whole bunch of girls had come over for the same reason. But Geaw wasn’t a bar-girl, consequently she was the only one who didn’t have to rush off to work so I’d shot her last after the others had gone.

Not knowing if such proximity was welcome I decided to err on the side of caution and took a half-step backwards. Geaw took a step sideways, slid between me and the balcony railing then pushed her butt backwards into my groin.

This was a second shock. I knew she wasn’t a professional, I’d figured that opening the taxi door after the rain had stopped would be about the most intimate I was likely to get with her. But my dick wasn’t complaining, it had sprung to life and was enjoying the unexpected attention.

The rain was hammering down but the wind was in such a direction only a very light spray reached the balcony. I ran my fingers over her back approximating as best as I could remember the lines of her tattoo. “Better if you can see it” she said and lifted her t-shirt off. But I didn’t see because as she did she turned and pulled me down onto the floor.

I didn’t see it again until soaping it down in the shower afterwards, the warm water washing off the cool film of rainwater. She rode cowgirl all the way, a wave of pleasure streaking across her face as she collapsed into a thunderous orgasm. It was a joy to watch. “Sorry” she said “I think the weather make me feel horny.” I told her not to worry, that I was glad to have been of assistance and that she was welcome to come over anytime there was a storm. She laughed and said maybe.

In the meantime I’ve become a born again Pagan, built my alter to Thor, the god of thunder and now I’m waiting patiently.

Kamagra and condoms are essential male accessories

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“Kamagra”, I said knowing full well that they wouldn’t have a clue what Kamagra was. But it gave me a few precious seconds to think.

I’d been first off the plane at Bali’s Ngurah Rai airport, I’d whistled through immigration and, since I only take hand-carry luggage, it was just the customs desk left between me and freedom. The customs desk clearly hadn’t seen any customers for a while. Three officials were sitting around chatting in one queue leaving the other two unattended. Their eyes brightened when they saw me barrelling towards them.

The first thing they discovered when they opened my bag was a large box of Japanese condoms. Inside this were two blister packs of Kamagra. The most senior of the officials was looking at one of them with a puzzled expression. “Same same Viagra”, I offered.

“Make you strrrrong?” Enquired the second rolling his rrrs enthusiastically while drawing his left fist upwards in a semicircle and slapping his right into the crook of his elbow.

“Bagus,” I told him in his own language and emphasising it with the internationally recognised upward pointing thumb. “I bought them in Bangkok.”

By now the third official was inspecting the pack. There were still three tabs in it, the vacated blister just a fond memory of the previous evening at the LoveTeen massage parlour. “You can give one to my boss?”

“But he’s already strong,” I said, trying to fight back the smirks. Where I come from telling a complete stranger that your boss suffers erectile dysfunction would be a sacking offence and would probably merit a punching out as well.

True, I use them as recreational drugs. I regard them as a lifestyle choice, an essential male accessory every bit as important as condoms and a shaving kit. But it’s not a lifestyle that I would expect your average uniformed government official to admit to any more than the suggestion that he can’t get a stiffy. Yet there he was waiting with baited breath for my reply.

“Sure,” I said trying to adopt a classic French shrug, “Keep those, maybe you have one each to try.” Three faces beamed. The way I’d figured it was that if I said yes they might let me go, if I said no they would definitely keep me there a lot longer. I was keen to ensure that the question of why I was travelling to Bali alone with a weeks supply of Kamagra and a huge box of Okamoto 0.03 aloe lubricated condoms didn’t get asked.

As it turned out they couldn’t get rid of me quick enough, they even zipped the luggage up again for me. I was going to advise them to take it about 30-60 minutes before commencement of hostilities and to warn them that it’s effects would be impaired if they took it directly after a heavy meal but they shooed me away. Anxious, no doubt, to huddle down behind the x-ray machine and divvy up the spoils.

See also: Recreational drugs
See also: Art Vs Porn #973(b)
See also: Song and dance