Some Thai Panties Mysteries Revealed- Part 1
Like you I’m fascinated and attracted by the Far East and in my case since I was twelve after I had been given a Chinese astrology calendar. Isn’t Asia a place of unfathomable mysteries that need to be unveiled?
Having affairs with the ladies of a foreign and exotic country is indeed an adventure, not really like discovering a virgin land as many have been there before, but it’s nevertheless the ultimate playground in our globalized world and you had better be ready to come out of it unscathed.
Take Thai women for example. Of course there are those lovely and obvious body differences with their western sisters that make them so fascinating, the long sleek jet black hair, the silky honey-colored skin, the big almond eyes, the small nose, etc. but there are also those cultural differences that make you wonder if you were born in the same galaxy when they hit you in the face.
This mini-series of short stories is based on factual field study will reveal among other things some of the mysteries of a topic unfortunately rarely mentioned in knowledgeable reports about all things Thai, i.e. the mysteries of the Thai panties.
Beautiful Flower always comes to my hotel room with bags of fruits she had bought from the street markets. Whenever we came back together from Joe’s Banana, that Wanchai bar in Hong Kong where I used to pick her up, or whenever she came alone, late in the night after she had finished working.
Imagine being woken up at 3 o’clock in the morning by furious knocking at your door and being greeted by a slender and fair skinned Thai woman, soaked and dripping because she has walked half an hour in the rain from her room, and being handed bags full of mangos, longans or oranges. And as naturally as if she would have come at dinner time, she would make herself comfortable and start to delicately peel the fruits, slice them precisely with the blade pointing outward to finally place them gently in my mouth like she was feeding a baby.
She is of course making a point of choosing the best fruits for me, at the best possible bargain price, and I don’t even consider arguing.
Beautiful Flower is a peculiar woman; after all these years, I still don’t know what to think of her. She seems to have two elusive faces fighting each other, Black Orchid being the second one.
Close to Beautiful Flower I’m feeling like a bee, although butterfly would probably more appropriate, and I just want to feed happily on her nectar. But I can neither resist the dark attraction of Black Orchid, I go toward her like cattle to the butcher’s knife, vaguely conscious of what is happening but without any means or will to prevent it.
This ageless woman is three years older than me – I’m in my early forties – and she has an incredibly strong and fit body that gives lie to her frail looking figure.
I admit that the first time I met her, I was nearly drunk and that is probably why I somehow convinced myself she was 27.
The second time I saw her I was soberer; I believed she was 33, but I will put the misunderstanding down to the loud music in the bar and her discreet but efficient make-up.
The third time I was with her, she let slip she was 44 and I had to check her ID to believe her.
"I was waiting for you" was the very first thing she said to me without any prior introduction when I came across her in Joe’s Banana. Why did I feel the same while I was looking deep into her dark eyes?
Did you ever notice that we can spend considerable time and effort seeking something with no result? And that by an unexpected stroke of fate, we can bump into something that is crossing our way casually and oh, surprise, it is just what we needed!
I have spent the last weekend with Beautiful Flower and we have had a relaxed time, free of the tensions that have sometimes clouded our improbable sporadic relationship in the past. Now she is even calling me “honey” which I consider a major progress, but she has been the one to have been really sweet. Especially during bed activities where she excels as a pleasure giver that nevertheless wants badly her fair share of the fun, which is for me a major turn-on.
Being Thai, we had to follow the ritual of the mandatory shower from where she comes out with a bare chest, her brown bulging nipples erected on small but firm breasts, and wearing her black bikini under a towel tied to her hips like a sarong.
That time, as we were lying on the bed getting into the conditions to proceed to the most intimate of acts between a man and a woman, her finger nails grazing my torso, she starts to sing for me. Thais are not shy to sing and from my experience they are good singers; Beautiful Flower is one of them and it seems she sings whenever she is heartily happy. That song was in two parts she explained, one being dedicated to the man, the other to the woman, and, although I didn’t understand what it was about, it was very sweet and it had a romantic feeling.
“Please kiss me” she told me once she had finished, giving free reign to a lust that has been tamed until now, our eager hands searching for each other’s body and removing without any restraint and calculation all obstacles such as useless towels and a bikini.
While still lingering in that wet and snug moment a man is experiencing he goes down from Paradise to Earth, lying on the bed and facing each other, I could see a frown emerge on her brow, followed by inquiring glances towards the upper side of the bed.
Finally, being unable to resist anymore and swallowing her pride, she asked, “Where my panty?” She then turned over and started to fumble quite frantically in the higher part of the bed under the pillows.
“I don’t know; let me take a look under the bed linen”. And like a speleologist disappearing into the depths, I crawled under the quilt in the tepid wetness and the intoxicating scent of love, rummaging about while taking one more opportunity to put as many kisses as I could on her silky legs.
“Got it! And it is mine” I said re-emerging and flapping about at arm’s length the black panty like a flag. Obviously relieved she reached out for it but I dodged her and, placing the bikini on my index, I started to make it twirl over our heads.
Then something strange happened, something I could have expected if I hadn't forgotten she was Thai and quite religious.
Her eyes opened wide like saucers, her face turned into a horrified and offended look while one of a hand flashed toward her Buddha necklace amulet to cover it.
“STOP that, give me right now!” she said.
I answered with a WTF surprised look, the bikini doing a last unenthusiastic turn on my now motionless finger.
“Thai people are like that, no panty over Buddha” she said.
“OK, then I will put it on that chair over there which is lower than the bed”.
“No, no, give me”.
After having dried herself with what are wrongly called facial tissues, she then put back her panty.
It was my turn to be the one unable to resist anymore as it is something that has always defeated me in the past.
“Why do you need it to sleep? Are you scared I might do something while you are sleeping?”
“No, I no scare.”
“Sometimes I have nightmares and I have to run away in my dream. If I can’t find my panty, then big problem. So, if sleep with panty, I can run from ghost no problem”.
While not the main point of the story I know, the point about not joking with Buddhist figures is one which should be taken seriously. Just as many would cringe at folks running amok in a church in the West, Westerners need to remember to respect Buddhist figures, statues and amulets.