Pussy Hunting In Thailand

Samoa! Samoa! I want Samoa! (A modern Samoan mating call. Read on to find out why)

Hello Stickies. Aha Wendigo here, the brown bull from Samoa. I am the first son of a Samoan Princess and some bum German medical student who seduced my mother. She was a nurse in the same hospital in New Zealand. Even our Princesses have to work when
they are left in the lurch by a beer swilling goose stepper with his tail up his arse. Damn Germans. They are all sons of bitches with bad breath.

I was born in Samoa in a little village called Havalottanookie on Savaii. Did you know on the big island there is a village called Solosolo? There are no women left there because the men prefer to do it solo. My island is very better. We get a lot of
tourists. It is very beautiful. I remember one came and asked me if we spell it Savaii or Sawaii? I told him we spell it Savaii. He thanked me and I replied as he walked away, “You are velcome.”

Sorry, I was telling you my life story. My father he got bored sitting under the coconut trees alla time. Then one day a cyclone she picked him up and deposited he on the beach at Apia. My father he took that as an omen. So he took the whole family to
New Zealand. That was very lucky for me. All the girls there are born with round heels. By the time I was a young teenager I was already an accomplished stickman. With my rugged good looks and smooth rack of muscles I never have any problem
pulling the women. The women they would drive up and stop me in the street to ask if I want a ride. I ask them if they hadn’t got it wrong, eh? Wasn’t they the ones wanting a ride? It work every time.

Bart told you how I got my first name. I cannot tell you my real first name because of some of you footie fans might recognize me. At one time I nearly made it onto the All Blacks team, but I busted the jaw of one of the Refs while I was charging down
the field and they black balled me. Me I walked bow legged for a week. What about my last name? I can not use that too because then you would definitely know who I am. So I chose Wendigo. It’s a good name, eh? I look it up inna dictionary.
A Wendigo is a ferocious Native American spirit. Me I like the name because that sound like me. I am a ferocious free spirit in and out of the sack. The girls they love it when I start howling when we making wild sex just like a Wendigo. Me
I’m tough too. I fully trained in the ancient Samoan war arts they call Beatacrapoutofem. One day me I ran across a bunch of Maoris in NZ. They thought it would be fun to take me on. After I busted a few of them up a bit the elders
came after me and said I better lay low for a while, like right out of the country. So I hopped on a plane and took off for America. The pilot must have been a bit dopey or somethin because he landing at Vancouver in Canada and they drugged
me off the plane. Me I don’t know why. One of the security men mumbled that I banged the hostess in the lavatory and she got stuck on the shitter. They told me later she nearly had her pussy sucked off. Me I told them not to worry cos
I already did that.

Vancouver is where I met my new friend Blackest Bart. I think he’s already told you a bit about hisself so no need for me to tell you any more. He’s a big boy everywhere. That’s saying something for a Samoan! It’s one of the
reasons we are good buddies. We so much alike in that department.

Now me I’m here to tell you poor suckers about what you have been missing out on, eh? Bart he is right. He’s already told you what a pathetic bunch of losers you are. You write to Stickman whining that some bar girl ripped out your heart
and ripped off your money. What is wrong with you? You have no any balls or any class? When Bart and me came over here we couldn’t believe this place. Beautiful women everywhere you look. And what did we see on the streets? Lots of
bald old men with beer bellies wearing crappy clothes walking around with some of the most delicious women we ever saw. Sometimes we also saw bald old farts with beer bellies, socks and sandals with the oldest, ugliest old sluts hanging onto
them for dear life. They must of been Poms or Sheep Shaggers for sure. Anyway, when Bart and me saw all this sweet pussy walking around we decided to go hunting. Bart has a thing about ‘good’ Thai girls. That’s his problem.

Me I’ve been around a bit and while I was in Japan trying out for the Sumo league I got a taste for Jap girls. I didn’t get in the Sumo league bye the way. They said I was too skinny! I think they were just scared of another Samoan champion
beating the crap out of them. You might remember there was a big war between the white mans and the Japs a bit before my time. That has sort of colored our views in Samoa. When I went to Japan I was a bit leary of there women. That changed
fast after I had a threesome the first night I was there. I met these lovelies in a karaoki bar in the Ginza. Can you imagine what we did? There was arms, legs, lips, pussies, and whatall having a good time that night. Let me tell you those
Jap girls are kinky that’s for sure.

Something I noticed when we got here to Thailand was that there are over 100,000 Japanese working in Thailand. They are all married to Japanese women. What do all those women doo all the time while there men are working night and day? That’s right!
They go out with there other Japanese wife friends and do boring stuff like having lunch, or shopping. I immediately knew I was going to have a ball in this country. A lot of balling actually. Here was a huge pool of available talent, fully
frustrated, and no one taking any notice of them. It is like shooting fish in a barrel!!!!

It helps that I speak Japanese. We have a lot of them in Samoa too, so that was my third language as a kid. Where do I go hunting? My buddy Bart likes to come along because he gets some of my rejects now and again too. We start at the upmarket shopping
malls first. There are always a lot of them Jap ladies shopping with their friends. Because Bart and me are both handsome dudes the two of us just walk around and smile at the ones we fancy. Most of them ladies return our smiles and we know
the game is on. Some of them look a bit surprised at first. These are the best ones because they lack of self confidence. Their husbands have ignored them too long, eh? So I move in and do the chatting up. Bart speaks a bit of Jap too but
not as good as me. When the girls here me talking fluent Japanese they get real real excited. By the time we buy them a coffee and had a good chat we usually take them to one of the upmarket hotels nearby. My favorite is the Landmark because
the rooms are big and the room service is good. If you are going to have fun with these girls you got to treat them right. They are used only to the best, so if you spend a little money on them they melt at the knees. You know who is there
to lay them gently on the bed when they start melting, don’t you?

Bart told you I have a bit of money. Well, not really a bit. I have a shitload. My grandfather started a small store next to a US air force base near Apia at the end of the war. Apia is the capital of Samoa. Within ten years he had five shops on both
islands. Then he expanded into Pago Pago, Fiji and finally into NZ, Australia, and then Canada. I can’t remember how many shops we own these days, but it’s probably over fourty. So money is never a problem. My big brother looks
after the business. He pays me to stay away from it. The last time I was in one of the shops I managed to bring down a whole row of glassware. I was eased out gently and given a very comftable salary as long as I don’t ever enter one
of our shops again.

You might ask if I stick only to Jap girls. You can ask. Alrite, what the hell. Why shouldn’t I tell you? No, I don’t mind a bit of white meat now and again. I have to be careful though. Some of those girls take seriously what is poked at
them in fun. I remember one married white girl I met on a cruise ship once. I’d taken the cruise instead of flying home. By the time we got from Sydney to Samoa she’d fallen real hard eh? That wasn’t two bad, but her husband
was waiting in Apia when the ship docked. She told me she had run away from him. He found out where she was and flew in to get her back. He was welcome to her. She was insatiable in the sack. That’s when she started using the Samoan
mating call. Me I tell you about that soon. You wait. It’s a ripper. Oh year getting back to my story I had to duck off the ship with the crew in case they saw me leaving.

How many married women have I had since Bart and me started hunting together here in Thailand? I don’t know really. I only remember the good ones. On average, Bart and me pull three or 4 women a week. Some we keep for a while. Others we just go
one time. No point in keeping a shark around when you can spear plenty a reef fish, eh? (Old Samoan saying).

Anyway I bet you a cowrie shell to a palm frond some of you married men are reading this and wondering if I have had your wife yet. Here’s a clue. If she’s in bed with you one night and you hear her yelling out the Samoan mating call, Samoa! Samoa! I want Samoa! She isn’t saying ‘some more’.

This is your buddy and Professor of Phucking Aha Wendigo signing off. Ahgottagonookyagain! (ancient Samoan war cry)