Readers' Submissions

Above Her Crack Was The Union Jack




I was feeling low. Sorry for myself because I was alone. I was thinking of Princess getting all that sex and getting paid for it. I was alone. Princess likes sex and there she was drinking and partying and turning three tricks a night and getting paid too. It didn’t seem fair.

I am obviously of superior moral character and have karma on my side as I do good work day in and day out. I don’t even kill many bugs anymore. I walk around the cockroaches on the street as they swarm towards the end of the evening. I don’t shoot my slingshot at rats by my favorite restaurant very often. I am trying to improve my Thai language ability and stand up for old people on the bus. I stand up for women too. One old guy told me to sit down as I was obviously younger than him and we got into a small argument about that but all in all my karma is in good shape. I am going through a dry spell. Only fat women with stretch marks seem to be attracted to me. There was one slim young thing. She is 19. No tattoos yet. Tight body and not an ounce of fat anywhere. Looks like she works out daily. I pinched all over trying to measure body fat but could not really get a hold. Any aerobic instructor would have been happy to have her form. Her hips were childless and slim and her small perfectly shaped breasts were a joy to behold. But a flaw. How this slim thing got such a big vagina I have no idea. She was a candidate for fisting movies if I ever saw one. She was gigantic! How does a 19 year old Thai get such big one? Five years at a karaoke that specialized in Korean merchant seamen would be my guess.

I know Princess and Pan are targeting Japanese men and that gets me obsessing about anal sex.

If whores and especially Princess did not like sex and were working for money to send home or for just about any worthwhile purpose I would not be jealous. But here I am working my old ass off making money to combat the declining dollar and rising inflation and doing good works and going to the temple, church and any other spiritual place I can think of and Princess is making more money than me. Not only is she making more money she is enjoying it. She is drinking whiskey and eating pussy and getting bonked. She likes all of those things. Even when I didn’t want to have sex with her which was most of the time she would force me. She likes sex. So does Pan. If all the money in the world dried up they would give it away for vegetables. Heck, sometimes she does that now.

I have occasion to work with a Swiss man and a Philippine lady. The Philippine lady speaks no Thai. To keep our conversations civil when the Swiss man and I want to mention any female activity we switch to Thai. He is a hi-so guy. His Thai is hi-so since he was partially schooled in Thailand and I don’t think has ever been out with a whore. He constantly tells me what a low slum dwelling Thai I sound like when I talk.

Since I was obsessing about anal sex I mentioned it speaking in Thai. It came out, “I want to fcuk ass.” That sounds fine to me. It gets the meaning across. Yet doot about covers it. He cringed. I said, “Is my meaning unclear?”

“No no”, he responded. “Your meaning is clear. I have heard words like that at sporting events but hardly in polite society.” He told me I should say, “Me ali gan gup doot.”

Later that evening still thinking about Princess getting her fudge packed by the sons of the veterans who attacked Pearl Harbor and marched my relatives to their death on Bataan I decided to take some bold psychological and physical action.

I had narrowed down my choices of activities to finding the oldest ugliest whore with hairy legs at a Japanese Karaoke bar and busting her butt for at least a good hour while yelling Banzi or finding a lady boy giving him a Kamagra gel pack and watching him boomsing the Thai ladies nether regions while I ate som tom and engaged in some other perversion with a young gogo dancer who didn‘t shave her facial hair like Princess does.

The whipping boy concept. If you didn’t know, way back when, they paid poor boys to get whipped for rich boys when the rich kid did something wrong. It worked great. The parent got to whip a kid and the rich kid got to see how much the whipping hurt the poor kid and the poor kid got some money for food to eat. Everybody was happy.

I have discovered, of course the cure for any mental distress is readily available in Thailand. If the same thing were to happen in the States the shrink would suggest anti-depressant pills. In Thailand of course there is the available option of group therapy, so to speak, at substantially lower costs.

Thailand also has the cure for sex addiction. You can get so much sex that sex addiction ceases to be a problem. Viagra overdose may be a problem or other things but sex addiction is cured or at least held in abeyance.

I walked along the street surveying my choices and ended up in a quiet bar with number of women chatting and doing their makeup in readiness for the coming evening shift.

She told me her name was Deamond. Slim, perhaps 40. I estimated at least three children. She asked me why I looked sad. I told her my old lady was off with Japanese men because she wanted a new truck. She said, “well, you know all bar lady have problem.” A light went off in my brain. More like a flash of brilliance. A bar lady who knows all bar ladies have problems! What a revelation. What a find. Truth in the wilderness of lies. I began talking to her. Her problem was a long one and involved a handsome soldier and an Englishman both of whom she loved. She was attempting to solve this problem by working in a brothel screwing strangers (think about this for a while). Makes perfect sense to me. Maybe I have lived here too long. It was remotely similar to my problem and solution.

She finally wound down talking as I lifted up her skirt to check out her stomach. Not too bad.

She looked intently at me and asked me about my sorrow and I informed her about my mission of anal intent. She looked shocked and aghast. Of course recovering her composure she grabbed my crotch to check out what size she would be dealing with. She said no. I kept repeating she was wrong and that it was small. She said small maybe for Australian or Scot but very big for Thai man.

I had remembered to bring along a tube of gel and put that on the bar. A look of relief crossed her face as she realized not only was I well spoken and polite but also well prepared and she nodded OK.

She said, “you buy me drink first.”

I said, “I don’t like to buy lady drinks.”

She said, “not lady drink, I want whiskey.” I realized she wanted to get a big relaxed and I bought her a double.

We headed up the stairs and showered. Her body wasn’t bad, considering the three kids but her butt was a thing of beauty. More than that it was an art gallery.

We started slowly. Rhythmically working into peaceful space and chanting a bit.

Finally she was ready. On her back just above her ass crack was a full size tattoo in brilliant color of the Union Jack. I had been watching it move up and down for 10 minutes. It reminded me of Lord Nelson watching his flag during any one of his numerous naval engagements. I always liked Nelson.

I always liked, “God Save The Queen” at Canadian hockey games.

Thinking of Nelson and his brave sailors ramming home shot and powder in their substantial cannons and Brown Betty muskets when she screamed, “Kelly con dio” (Kelly alone) I yelled at the top of my lungs, “God Save the Queen” and went in full tilt.

Not only was it a climatic moment but a patriotic one as well.

I don’t know if Princess will have someone reading this to her but if she does, remember who was your first one, dear.

Stop scowling, I paid the hospital bill and I know I should have used more lubricant.

It is fun to share old memories isn’t it.

I will never look at the British flag in exactly the same way again.

Stickman's thoughts:

If that is not the best title for a submission in a long time then I do not know what is.