Readers' Submissions

Reality Check

  • Written by Artie
  • December 20th, 2011
  • 28 min read


Black Pagoda Patpong Bangkok


After ending 20 years of marriage to my LBFM (a.k.a. as “the defendant”) nearly three years ago I found myself living in Asia at the age of 55. It was and is a win-win situation over the medium term, whether I find a new long-term good girl partner (Option GG) or live alone and rely on P4P for R&R (Option BG). For the long term I don’t know what my requirements will be. After my uncontested divorce I set out to sample Option BG, having been a Stickman reader for years but still a virgin monger.


Koh Samui

My first bargirl—I’ll cleverly call her BG1—told me she was 28 in the Happy Bar on Soi Green Mango, but when I told her didn’t believe her, she told me she was 33. Later I saw her birth year on her ID card and I calculated she was 36. Why do BGs always lie? You could hardly tell she was a mother or in her 30s anyway: she had a flat belly, nearly invisible stretch marks on her light brown skin, pert tits, and a cute slender figure. She had a small tattoo on one shoulder which I had not at first noticed; it was unfinished because it “hurt too much.” The way she reached out for me in bed was unforgettable and she was the best kisser I have known. My Ex was hot, but in the cowgirl position BG1 had a wonderful orgasm-accelerating forward-rotational pelvic thrust—I struggle to describe it—that I have not experienced before or since. Her phrase “everything OK, nothing not OK” could be a motto for happiness.

At dinner on the beach BG1 ordered enough expensive food for two adults and only ate enough for one child, but I didn’t care. After dinner she said she wanted to see the Samui transvestite cabaret show that she had never seen before (really, after whoring for years on Samui?) so I took her there (it’s a good show, by the way), and didn’t care. I paid too much for the two-day girlfriend experience, THB 8000 plus another 1000 when shopping (I bought her a motorcycle helmet at Tesco), but I loved my virgin monger weekend and didn’t care. Even at a CPF of $140 she was a bargain to me and an unforgettable treat.

Afterwards I sent BG1 an email with copies of some photos of herself; her first reply came three months later and was in surprisingly good English. Her second reply came six months after that, from Sweden; her English was now worse and in a different style with different punctuation and capitalization. I realized her first email had been ghost-written. BG1 told me she was miserable in Sweden. I told her to go back to Nong Bua Lumphu because otherwise she would never be happy. After two more whining emails from Sweden I never heard from her again. I don’t know her real name, but she was my first whore and I was lucky to pick an experienced professional to be my second sex partner in nearly a quarter-century. She was The Whore That Made Me a Monger.

BG2 worked at the Sportsman in Chaweng. She also told me she was 28 and showed me her ID card to prove it. She didn’t fit the usual single-mother bargirl profile. She was a bit naive, a girl-next-door who decided to do 18 months of whoring to save some money, then go back home to her parents and siblings. Her father had a truck and three scooters but she was working to repay her father’s debt, she said. She told her family she was a government employee; I was not allowed to take nude photos, but poolside bikini photos were acceptable. BG2 said if her mother ever found out what she was doing in Koh Samui she’d disown her. Why do BGs always lie? Her cameltoe pussy was ready to go instantly but she refused to use her mouth on me. She was a friendly starfish. I had to tell her to stop the Japanese porn movie whimpering.

But BG2’s English was good, perhaps from the past year in the business and reasonable intelligence, and she could maintain a conversation over dinner. She told me her real name. Although slender and pretty in the everyday dress she wore in the bar—not looking like a hooker at all—her belly sagged from an absence of any exercise other than with the hundred men she must have shagged by then. She enjoyed the shave I gave her, which she said was her first. I paid her too much, THB 5000 plus another 1000 while shopping, but it was my pleasure to spend a weekend with her so a CPF of $100 seemed fine.

She offered me her email address, told me all her customers stopped writing to her after just a couple of months, and predicted I too would stop writing. I said I’d be different, and I was: we exchanged emails and a few photos for nearly a year. In the emails BG2 admitted she didn’t like sex, that it was a job because she is “lazy.” BG2 left Koh Samui six months later, following her 18-month plan, and went home to Isaan. She is now attending Ramkhamhaeng University in Bangkok, studying English. Shortly after she moved to Bangkok her emails stopped. I Googled her Thai name and found it listed on the university’s online student listing (no privacy laws in Thailand, it seems). I wish BG2 well in her new life.


Singapore

BG3. I tried the four floors of whores at Orchard Towers. I had strolled past that building on business trips for over decades and had never tried the Buy-me-Drinks scene. It must be the world’s most expensive way to fritter time away flirting with Filipina floozies. Their monthly bargirl salary is S$800 less S$350 board, so they net just S$250 (US$190) a month. But their drinks quota is 500 drinks a month, and each drink nets them S$5, so that’s another S$2,500 a month (US$1900). That is a reasonable working-class salary in Singapore. But looking at it from my perspective as a customer, her quota means I need to buy her a drink every 30 minutes at a cost of S$15 or more. So my client entertainment fee is S$30 per hour (on top of my own drinks), out of which the BG earns S$10 an hour. There is no barfine system and the bargirls (unless freelancers) cannot leave the bar during their 8pm to 4am shifts. They rarely get a night off and are therefore hard to date, but if a girl agrees to visit you during the day she can eventually squeeze you in.

I tried this with BG3, a skinny 24 year-old newcomer, verified by her passport date and entry stamp. I had seen her a few times in the bar before I asked her out. The sex was natural and good; she came during oral sex easily with that unfakeable salty taste that I love. Fake hair extensions, colored contacts, no tits, no ass; she’s gorgeous! I paid her S$200 for each of our two LTs, so a CPF of about US$150 before the cost of drinks. But I must have spent S$1400 in that bar during the many nights I was there. That works out to a total of S$900 (US$700) for each of the two LTs, most of which went to the bar. What a racket! When BG3 asked to see my ID, I ended contact.

Her Facebook pages were public so over the following year and half I watched her activities with amusement. It was intriguing to observe her personal growth as an international whore, working in Singapore and Hong Kong judging by the photo backgrounds but never back home in the Philippines. I smiled to see her photo in a bikini after she had the boob job which I had urged her not to get and which I suppose I helped fund. Her Facebook profile lies about her education (why do BGs always lie?). BG3 suddenly went off line and remains so—perhaps something caught up with her.


Manila

The Mandarin Oriental is a short walk away from P. Burgos Street in Makati. Companions are welcome, no questions asked. I went into the Pussycat Club on Burgos for a beer and before I knew it I was surrounded at my table by three BGs operating like trained commandos. The attractive center one straddled me lap dance style, and pulled my right hand into her panties and onto her surprisingly wet pussy. The busty one on my left pulled down her halter, shoved her left mammary into my face, and wrapped my left hand around as much of her other breast as it could hold. Meanwhile the older one on my right (her voice reminded me of my ex-mother-in-law) undid my pants and delivered a hand job under the table. The way the women surrounded me their actions were not obvious to others in the bar. Their mission was accomplished within ten minutes of me entering the bar, and for what I paid all three of them I could have taken one with me for the night. My cash was gone (I never bring plastic on a pub crawl) so I finished my single San Miguel and left, vanquished.

The next night I resumed my pub-crawl safely at the other end of the street, dodging endless sellers of (probably fake) Viagra. There I met warm, unforgettable, uneducated, damaged-goods BG4. I went into the WowWowWow Bar, with black painted walls, black curtains which can be pulled around the tables, and… black light. It’s an anything-goes BJ bar with a VIP room upstairs. The girls were wearing almost nothing—including no pubic hair—when they wore anything at all, but the tallest one seemed (here it comes…) “different.” I barfined BG4 a dozen times over the next few months during my business trips there. Like my Ex she was nubile, but unlike my Ex she was half her age and 100% customer-service minded.

BG4 grew up planting rice and riding Carabao in the Visayas. Her father couldn’t even afford a motorbike, she said. Her life was nothing but problems, she said, yet she always smiled. She ran away to Manila at 14 to avoid pressure from a rich Chinese landlord for an arranged marriage. In Manila she married but separated soon after giving birth at 18. Because her parents would not have approved the relationship, she didn’t tell her parents about her marriage or their grandchild for years (why do BGs always lie?). Her husband was the last man to sleep with her without paying for it, over three years before she entered the business which was three months before she met me. Her sister quit school at 15 to work at burger bar—success runs in the family.

At 21, BG4 was making PHP 40,000 per month at the bar, out of which she sent 10,000 home to her mother. Previously, she was making only 10,000 per month at the same department store where she told her family she was still working. She earned no salary at the bar, only commission. She earned PHP 85 per ladies drink and 800 from the PHP 3,000 (US$68) barfines plus tips. When she serviced men in the bar, she earned 400 from the 1500 curtain fee (to pull the curtain around the table and the six-foot long bench seat for up to two hours of semi-privacy) plus a share of 500 for a hand job, 1000 for a blowjob, or 1500 for a boom-boom on the bench. She made 4,000 (US$90) on a good night without leaving the bar.

BG4 told me her first barfine was a week in Boracay with 65 year-old at PHP 2500 per day plus 800 per day from the barfine, US$500 total, ten times the rate she was earning in the department store in retail sales. The customer (whose photo was still in her cellphone) looked like a burned-out trucker or Hell’s Angel. He couldn’t get hard enough to screw anymore; he just wanted a sexy girl to sleep with him, massage him, attempt unsuccessful handjobs on him, be seen with him, and bring the memories of earlier days back to him. After that job, BG4 learned to focus on older men.

I set up a photo studio in the Mandarin with a black backdrop and a Selphy printer and took and produced some art-nude portraits that amazed her and of which I am still proud (but can’t show anybody). A few days after I gave her a set of prints she asked me if she could bring two other pretty bargirls (who I had met in the bar) to my room with her next time; they wanted to pose for me in various combinations and they would reward me afterwards in various combinations. BG4 said she would be happy with this arrangement as long as she was present. I declined in order to focus on “my” BG. I regret that now—it turned out that nearly all the girls at WowWowWow had seen BG4’s portraits and wanted to come over and pose for me in my hotel room.

BG4 restored my mojo. I didn’t think I could still do a few things I found with her I could still do. We had many dates and dinners at the Havana Café, pure GFE. She told me stories of her life and those of the other girls in the bar, some of whom were drug users and all of whom had had hard lives. BG4 invited me to her dilapidated one-room home. She cooked chicken adobo and mussels for me on a one-burner gas stove. We made love on her bed (a thin mattress on the floor) next to her sleeping four year-old son. BG4 said she loved me and called me her boyfriend. She said I didn’t have to pay, but I always did, very well. Of course she was working me, but I am sure she was hoping for a husband or at least a long-term contract. My relationship with BG4 lasted four months and several business trips to Manila. Afterwards we exchanged hundreds of emails, hers sometimes hard to read in view of her 4th grade English with nary a single correctly-spelled word.

Little Head had taken over my Big Head, and big time; BG4 was constantly on my mind until I came to my senses. It took Big Head a surprisingly long time to resist Little Head, but in the end I caught BG4 lying to me (why do BGs always lie?). It was when she told me she had changed her name, so I Googled both the old name and the new one (both sharing the same not-so-common Spanish last name). I found that BG4 had set up two Facebook sites, one in her new name with sexy photos and with her clients and bargirls for friends; and the other in her real name with more conservative photos and her son and ordinary-looking Filipinas for friends. BG4 leads a double life; she hadn’t changed her name but decided to shift me from her personal identity to her professional alias. So I wrote less often and eventually said farewell.

Since then it’s been fascinating to do a longitudinal study of both her Facebook sites. In one of her Facebook galleries I saw my own framed picture sitting on her TV shelf behind her child, but lately only her profile photo has been visible to me because she (wisely) increased her Facebook security settings. The days of wide-open Facebook sites are probably over. Her now-23 year-old face has lost some of the sweetness it had when I met her at 21, new to the business, and she looks somewhat older than she is, but she has lost none of the warm sexiness. BG4 helped me get over my Ex-wife, for which I am grateful, and eventually taught Big Head some control over Little Head.

Sometimes the experience with her seems like a dream, but I (and she) have her portraits and I (and not she) have a video to prove to myself it was not. I can picture myself at eighty in a retirement home someday, a dirty-old-man sitting in a wheelchair, hunched over something that looks like a PC, decrypting and watching those videos and thinking—Jesus, was that me?


Pattaya

BG5. My first night in Pattaya I walked miles and miles and absorbed it all, then I slept alone. Even though I knew what to expect, it was overwhelming. I couldn’t choose! On Beach Road I imagined Dana sleeping in a box or racing by in a toga on a chariot; Korski doing research; or Phet out for a pint with his camera and a few West Bromwich Albion T-shirts (youth small size). My second night I discovered Soi 6 and I barfined BG5. She quoted THB 700 for a short-time or 1500 for a long-time. I asked her which she preferred. She asked me which hotel I was staying in. I told her. She said long-time, so I paid the THB 350 barfine and left with her. Logical and professional, this lady.

Away from Soi 6 she looked like an ordinary girl. She was pleasant but her English was limited. She was about thirty, hardly any makeup, no kids, 47kg, a hard body, picture-perfect nearly hairless pussy. She swims, she said. She was from Chum Phae, Isaan, and had the usual motorcycle exhaust pipe burn on one leg. I paid her 3,000 ($100) the next morning. She would have been good for another long-time, but I had to leave. She said she finished high school and office work courses, broke up with her boyfriend, and got tired of years in factory and in a supermarket making 6,000 per month. She said she wanted to save money and meet a good farang. She said she had been in the business for only three months (sure…), and only in this one Soi 6 bar. Her cousin married a Swiss a year ago and moved away and she said she wanted to do that too because Thai men are no good (of course…).


Hua Hin

BG6 and BG7 worked at a small bar near the Scotsman. BG7’s round tanned face, warm smile with pearly teeth, and good-girl demeanor lured me in for a drink and a proposition, but it turned out that BG7 was already booked for the night. Intrigued by the market demand for this 24 year-old’s services, I forward-booked her for the following night; I was tired that night anyway. But BG7 suggested that her colleague BG6 go back to my hotel with me, and that since BG6 didn’t get many barfines (it was obvious why—she was a classic “three bagger”) she would work hard to please me even if I only wanted a massage. So I took BG6 back to my boutique hotel on the beach, stopping to buy massage oil on the way.

BG6 said she was 32, which seemed about right. She was the most unattractive girl I ever touched—plain, skinny, an overbite, flat-chested, no figure to speak of, and to top it off an awful Cesarean scar, the first I had seen. She made BG3 look good. Her English was non-existent but she had a well-worn phrasebook “Get Rich Quick—English for Bar Girls” and was lively and intelligent. She had one child, 5 years old. BG6 said she’d been freelancing for three months (right) and had been barfined three times, twice for a hand job and once for a boom boom. BG6 said that prior to that recent customer she’d had no sex for four years after divorcing her drunken farmer husband back in Isaan, but that during this time she masturbated often. I believe her story.

It turned out that she had never given a Thai massage (why do BGs always lie?) but she did a great job trying—as hardworking as her friend said she would be, and 100% customer service minded. Although I was saving myself for BG7, BG6’s massage turned me on and she delivered the second-best sexual experience I’ve had from a hooker before or since, second only to BG4. BG6 loved to screw! I still smile to think of her. She had a tiny, scrawny, hard, nimble ass and a very tight cunt and there was no faking that tasty orgasm during oral sex, something that BG4 never managed despite her eagerness to please. She reminded me of a moped—fun to ride, but you wouldn’t want your friends to catch you on one.

What to do about next night’s forward-booking? Early next evening I went to the bar to cancel pretty BG7 in order to have a second helping of ugly BG6. But BG7 said that she had already turned down another offer for that night because she had pre-booked me, and she held me to my word. The honorable solution was to barfine both of them, so I had my first-and-only threesome. BG7 looked better dressed than undressed, revealing 60 kg of cylindrical plumpness and a hairy twat like a Tamil porn star. She was from Bangkok. At 16 she’d married a cop who was 20 years older; she divorced him after seven years due to his philandering and ended up a childless whore in Hua Hin. Yet she still carries her ex-husband’s handsome photo in her wallet. TIT.

When I undressed them in my hotel room the two friends laughed and at first covered their faces—especially BG6—to see each other naked for the first time. Yet for a farang to see them naked—no problem! The threesome consumed a lot of condoms and in the end I finished back on top of ugly, skinny, agile-assed, hummingbird-mobile BG6 while cheered on by pretty, chubby, lazy BG7, who I think was surprised and disappointed by my preference. I slept with one on each arm. A portrait (which I emailed them) of the Laurel-and-Hardy pair lying nude facing me on the bed still makes me smile.


Hong Kong

BG8 introduced herself to me in the Wanchai Boracay Bar. This 24 year-old Filipina (1/4 Chinese) had arrived the night before with her 30 year-old friend who was on her second whoring trip to Hong Kong. BG8 and BG9 were on a one-week tourist visas and were in a hurry to freelance to earn back their “utang” (debt) to their booking agent. They were wearing simple street clothes. BG8 had never been paid for sex or previously been outside the Philippines. I didn’t intend to take her back to my room—I only went in to get mildly drunk in order to de-stress after work and enjoy some inane Filipina bargirl tease—but after three or four beers while talking to sweet, innocent her and her not-so-innocent, not-so-pretty friend, I thought it might be an honor for me to Make A Woman A Whore.

Once the idea took hold I could not get rid of it. I could assist her, thought my beer-addled brain: thanks to me, BG8 would enter her profession gloriously during a pleasant encounter in a first-class hotel with an innocuous man, instead of ignobly in a short-time boom-boom room. So I took her with me. I suggested she start by having a shower with me, after which we’d soak in the large clawfoot tub while I appreciated the view of her baby-face and woman-breasts floating in the bubble bath. She chose to have her shower alone and stayed in the bathroom a long, long time, perhaps to summon courage. Meanwhile I read the passport in her handbag, learned her real name, and confirmed that her arrival and visa dates matched her story. Strangely, in the bar she told me that her agent was holding her passport until she repaid her debt. Why do BGs always lie?

BG8 was chubby and soft with folds of flesh (unlike BG7 who was chubby and firm) but had majestic breasts and almost no stretch marks. Although she was a mother and spoke near-native English, she didn’t know what the words “orgasm” or “come” meant; she had no idea that a female could have an orgasm! It was the first time she had ever stayed in a hotel. I was her third partner and her first white partner. It was her first sex for two years. In bed she hid under the sheets until I patiently persuaded her to emerge. After ten minutes of her first oral sex she shouted, “Enough!” and pushed me away. She lubed well, as young girls do. She did not orgasm, of course, and after all the beer I didn’t either.

In the morning when I went for the main event she said the most amazing thing a whore has ever said to me: “I DON”T WANT!” I stared at her, dumbfounded by the breach of contract. After a moment it dawned on her why she was sitting in a king-size bed in the Hong Kong Grand Hyatt with a middle-aged white man with an erection. She then allowed me to proceed without foreplay. I paid her my original offer of HK$2,000 (US$260) out of pity for the most indifferent but possibly the most amusing sexual adventure I’ve had.

I saw BG8 in the bar a few days later. She was very, very happy to see me. She asked to go with me again because I was “good to her”, but I declined. I asked her if she had had any other customers after me. She said one, an Indian who liked big tits who had taken her to a short-time hotel around the corner and “fucked me just like that—I felt so cheap!” I struggled not to laugh.

BG8 gave me her email address, which had the same name I saw in her passport. I asked her if that was her real name; she lied and said no, it was her cousin’s name. BG8 has a Facebook site too, and, like BG3 and BG4, it is interesting to watch her profile photos evolve over the months and years. Her current photo is a family portrait taken with a Filipino man and her (or their) child, and they look happy. I doubt if he knows about her adventure in Wanchai, but I know BG8 will never forget The Man Who Made Her A Whore.

BG9, BG10, BG11 were sexy miniskirted pole dancers from the San Francisco, Crazy Horse, and Laguna bars in Wanchai. They were short-times on different business trips. The girls were all good but not great (I detest the smell of cigarettes), but they were expensive, typically HKD 1100 barfine (of which she gets 400) plus 400 for drinks plus 500 tip plus 140 for two hours in the Ming Court or Beverly short-time hotel = HKD 2140 for a short-time, about equal to the $260 I paid long-time to BG8.

My eleven belated P4P adventures took place over a nine-month period. Then my research into Option BG ended and my research into Option GG began.


Back Home

GG is a Good Girl who I met on a dating website site nearly two years ago and who has never been near the bar scene. If she knew that I had mongered at all before I met her she would never speak to me again. GG is now 44, tall for an ethnic-Chinese, 34A-26-36, and head-turning pretty (until she puts on her reading glasses). She was divorced acrimoniously many years ago, hence was disinterested in men for many years; she has no kids, no childbirth marring. In her twenties she was a part-time model for a few weeks while going to college, but she didn’t care for that line of work.

On the dating site she had hundreds of men approach her within a few months; she had dinner with only the few who made it through her selection process and pursued a relationship with only me. What do I have that they didn’t have, besides dogged persistence in winning a beautiful woman? Our personalities; it takes one to know one and we are very similar, except for The Issue, explained below. We took a couple of pre-marital psychometric tests mainly for fun and found we are, in fact, amazingly alike. We are both eccentric introverts. I cannot, at my age with my multiple-divorce background, imagine pairing with anyone better for a permanent relationship—except for The Issue. Her integrity is as good as it gets and she would be a stepmother my teenage girls could look up to (unlike their mother). GG and I have traveled the world and enjoyed our time together.

I’m nearly ready to propose going to the altar for my fourth time, except for The Issue.

The Issue is: sex with her ranges from unremarkable to unsatisfactory. She does not, of course, see The Issue as a show-stopping, potential relationship-ruining problem the way I do. GG tries her best (unlike BGs 2, 7, and 8) but compared to Filipinas and Thais, sex with this Chinese is not much to look forward to. It is cooperative and friendly rather than hot and steamy. She just can’t relax, wrap her lovely legs around my head or my waist, and lose herself in the enjoyment of sex for its own sake the way all my ex-wives could.

I have had sex thousands of times; she has had sex a hundred times and only with me. She was a virgin! Blood, pain—I could not believe my eyes and ears and what my todger felt. I am honored to be The Man Who Made Her A Woman (not to mention The Only Man To Kiss Her Pussy), and I will always hold that special place in her life no matter what the future holds. Her gynecologist later concluded that her marriage was indeed not consummated; her philandering Chinese husband (he was cheating on her even as they married) had just banged away between her supple thighs and deposited his load on her doorstep. They broke up weeks after the wedding.

Her enjoyment of sex has not increased much since her first time, and therefore neither has mine. Any position other than missionary is uncomfortable. The Issue is psychological; after a celibate lifetime I think she struggles to see sex as normal and fun. She says she would not feel this way if she were married to me and was not therefore feeling like a mistress on my mattress—but who knows? I am not optimistic that she will ever look forward to sex; however, I am optimistic that she will try to please me and not often turn me down. This strikes me as akin to BG behavior—how many of the BGs I had sex with truly enjoyed it? BG4 would mate with me in every position in the book but she never had an orgasm; at least GG manages an orgasm now and then if I am patient and make my jaw sore.

GG is putting pressure on me to propose or she will walk away and probably rightly so—from her point of view, after two years it’s not unreasonable for an older Good Girl to say that if I don’t commit she’ll need to look again for someone else who will. To her, it’s about honor and commitment, but to me that smells like money and security. She’s financially independent, but I’ve done better.

Proposing means optimizing my Big Head at the expense of my Little Head and foregoing forever the hot sex I was used to. In my thirties and forties I would never consider marrying, or staying married, to any woman who was not a spirited lay.

Walking away means optimizing my Little Head at the expense of my Big Head, giving me a more adventurous sex life, perhaps collecting more photos and stories like those above. But it probably means remaining single permanently; I don’t see myself investing the time and money again in a relationship like I have built with GG.

As a gentleman I must soon propose (Option GG) or watch her walk away (Option BG). I am at a crossroads. What’s a man to do in this Asian win-win situation? Option GG or Option BG?

First question—Can a man entering his sixties safely bet that sex will not be the foundation of his partnership within a few years and accept lackluster sex in return for an otherwise rewarding lifetime relationship with a rare and compatible partner of high integrity? In other words, when in a man’s life cycle does it become safe to give hot sex a low “weight” when evaluating a prospective life partner?

Second question—Are middle-aged Chinese women generally uninterested in sex (and unskilled at it) compared to Filipinas and Thais? Is this suboptimal condition permanent, perhaps a consequence of upbringing, or something that will improve with practice and a wedding ring)?

I would welcome any feedback particularly from senior readers and/or those who have experience with Chinese women.

Artie



Stickman's thoughts:

Very nice, open and honest submission.

It's a tough dilemma you face and one I personally have no idea about – but I am sure a few readers will.