Seymour Totti’s Foreign Policy

You know the time, when she’s just got out the shower and she’s got a soft fluffy dressing gown on and a towel wrapped around her head. But underneath them she is all shiny and clean and naked and smelling of lovely soapy things.

It makes me so horny. Got to get her attention before she stars putting her make-up on or all will be lost. Reach out and give that dressing gown a tug. She’s pretending not to notice but I know. I’ll give it a harder tug next time she passes. There, got it this time, and I’m not going to let go. She falls back onto the bed. “Look do you mind” she protests, “I’m trying to … have you moved my hair dryer”

But she wont protest for long then we can have another shower, together all soft and soapy and slippery together. Then I shall give her hair dryer back

As soon as had I pressed the button on the last post I remembered this little blockbuster from the good folks at G-Queen. If you are going to run a mini-mart this is the way to do it. Tell everyone take off their knickers before they are allowed in.

It makes perfect sense. It would cut down on petty theft because there would be fewer pockets in which to hide things. It would also save me from this kind of indignity next time I think about getting the hots for a checkout girl.

But quite simply it would just make popping out for a couple of packets of dried noodles a lot more fun.

Look what I got at Marks & Spencers

I hate shopping, I loathe it to the very core of my soul. I’m not the only one. I’ve seen it on the faces of other blokes as they hang around changing rooms waiting for the Mrs to try on yet another dress or nodding obediently in Ikea as it is pointed out to them that these knick-knacks will look very nice next to all the other crap that is now cluttering up the idiotic curly bookshelf they bought last week.

But shopping is a necessary evil and I do have to do it sometimes. So I tend to do it early on weekday mornings. I find 10.00am on a Wednesday is a good time. And I’ve noticed there are quite a few other men have the same idea. It’s a joy to watch, each customer knows exactly what he is looking for. This week it’s shirts; try on one, buy five and away. The chore is completed in a matter of minutes.

It’s money for old rope as far as the stores are concerned and they should quietly promote it. Not with sales, big advertising and shit. We’re happy to pay a little more just to avoid the weekend melee. But they could see to it that they have their prettiest staff working and that they smile when they swipe our credit cards. That would be really nice.

I’ve never been into BDSM much myself. Some of the accessories are fun and on the right kind of body some of the fetish fashions are very sexy indeed. But when it comes to the actual inflicting and receiving of pain I’m a bit of a wimp I’m afraid.

I’ve chatted with the girls outside the Try Something Different bar in Bangkok numerous times. They don’t inflict pain though they do sometimes stroke the toys they have across the front of my trousers. I’ve never been inside although they always try to entice me. They tell me there are live shows and audience interaction.

I’d always been led to understand by the S&M folks that I’ve met that it is bad form to get into that stuff when you were drinking alcohol as some people tend to get a bit carried away. But I guess in an environment like that there are people keeping an eye on proceedings.

I don’t want to interact but I would like to see the girls. The average Thai build is too slight to carry BDSM gear convincingly and I’m keen to find out if they have recruited some bustier examples from somewhere.

How much for one beer, I asked. “Nine-hundreds baht for first beer,” she beamed, taking my hand. “OUCH!” I yelped and scampered away.

I get the impression sometimes that lots of people think a ‘girlfriend experience’ is something elusive and mysterious. In case there is anyone who doesn’t know the term, a girlfriend experience is a rendezvous with a sex worker who … well … behaves more like a girlfriend than a sex worker.

She is someone who is good at giving the impression that she actually likes you and enjoys having sex with you rather than just lying back and counting the dollar signs. Well of course, that is the kind of service we all prefer but what baffles me is why some people think it is harder to find than the golden fleece itself.

I was talking to a girl the other day who made me think about this. We’d just had a post coital doze and were getting dressed. “Thank you,” she said, “you make me happy.” I told her that I was glad that I could make her cum too.

“Not only,” she said. “Last customer was a very boring man, he no smile, he no talk. I feel very scare … so I make him cum very quickly. He pay 2 hour but him finish, him go 30 minutes only. He not say anything but I afraid he angry … but now I happy again,” and she gave me a big hug.

Sex work is a risky business and you can understand some girls being a bit reserved at first. Of course, there are those that are never going to lighten up but for the most part my encounters are always cheerful and friendly. They are human beings and they respond well to being treated as such.

It seems Christmas cracker Xuan-Vy provoked quite a few erections out there. I think it was the cute little red hat that did it, after all there are sweet shaved pussies aplenty lying around. I’ve got to admit though, the lass simply oozes sex.

Xuan-Vy is Vietnamese, at least her name is Vietnamese, that’s the only thing I know about her. But she does remind me of a girl I met in Laos a couple of years ago for some reason. I don’t suppose they looked that much alike really and the Lao girl kept her clothes on at all times. She just wanted to practice her English.

At the end of the conversation we shook hands. Her handshake was firm and strong, her hands small and muscular. Made so, no doubt, by a childhood spent working in the fields. The were a little rough but nothing a little baby oil couldn’t fix. I’m convinced she would have been able to administer a sublime hand-job. Alas she was currently employed by the restaurant we were sitting in and the chance of smuggling her out for a spot of freelance seemed remote.

Another gallery here, See also the Christmas Cracker gallery