Cambodia and Thailand tales

[dirtydog]

A Few tales about Asia

My search for work lead me to Pattaya a while ago. I met up with my mate Dave and headed out to some go-go bars. Dave was adamant he had to catch a bus at ten that night so he was fit to teach the next morning. I didn’t think this was important at all.
Dave was talked into getting his ladyboy drug dealer round and doing some yaba. Her name was Sonia and it was lust at first sight. She was twenty years old, small, slim and brown with perky breasts (probably because she’d just grown them a couple of months ago). I’d only bedded a ladyboy once before so Dave was the ladyboy master here. We tried a threesome but didn’t get too far as she was shy and eventually managed to escape from our sweaty clutches. We sat up all night chatting and Dave left for work at four. Despite a heavy valium dosage I couldn’t sleep and phoned Sonia later that night. Bedding a ladyboy is a very unique experience. I was never into it until I came across Sonia. Small, slim and brown with nice breasts but hark! A dick! An acquired taste for sure. There’s something bizarre and erotic about a ladyboy and something wrong about what you’re seeing and doing which is exciting.

Sonia brought round some free yaba and pills and we bunnied for hours. When she left I couldn’t sleep again. In fact I didn’t sleep all week. Every night I had free yaba and ecstasy. It did come at a price of sorts though. The hormone pumping scamp would get fiercely angry everyday accusing me of playing around with other girls and she was pissing me off. By the end of the week she had declared her love to me though and was my girlfriend.

Dave came round with his hippy flat mate friends; both women. One was an uptight American woman and the other a gypo from England who wanted to try some yaba. She wasted the smoke and pissed me off. I wanted to bite deeply into her head and piss on her but she was Dave’s flat-mate and it wouldn’t have been polite. My girlfriend was the host and deftly built a bong for our use. But when the palm reading gypo touched my hands for a reading I could see the rage in her eyes. I was temporarily dumped again, which was okay while we were high but later on we needed some more yaba and I was forced to make up with her.

Her personality was abysmal but the sex was worth the hassle. The weekend went nicely on with yaba and my newly found interest in ladyboy sex. There was no work for me in Pattaya, the police had got rid of my shifty type a year ago so I hastily decamped to Phuket where last night my new love of ladyboys hit a speed bump.
I’m still learning and what I’ve found is not to skimp on price. You get what you pay for. More money equals more lady and vice versa. Last night I got this ladyboy on the cheap for 1000 baht instead of the usual 2000. Half-price bargain ladyboy! She was quiet and had big tits. A welcome change to my previous ladyboy and then I got her back. Whoah! She had a big dick and silicone tits! I shall keep the events of that night to myself cast into a dark vault deep inside my mind and leave you to presume I gave her the safety of my bed lest she be hurt making her way back to the dangers of the street.
The morning came and I tried to sleep as much as possible. I still had the memory of being awoken in the middle of the night by a horny shemale to bury. When I could lie there no longer and just wanted her to get the hell out I gave her 1000 baht and told her to go. But she wanted more and it was then I discovered she was deaf and she barked like an injured seal. She barked for money and then barked for food, gesturing she would care to eat with me. The thought of polite dinner conversation being interupted by, “ARF ARF ARF!” as I entertained a freak didn’t win me over. After about half an hour of haggling she finally left probably due to my kind faced words of, “please get the fuck out you ugly man-twat”. I’ve now found work where I’ll be living above a ladyboy cabaret. I’ll have many depraved nights to come for sure but for now that barking big-dicked freak has put me off. Probably not for long though.

The Horse

[dirtydog]

Is there anyone on this board with any genocide management experience? Or possibly someone who could help me fund and staff a genocide team?
If anyone would like to join a highly motivated work force there will be positions open for mainly voluntary work at first but if you can prove yourself to be efficent and hard working, a high rank with many benifits awaits you.

Those to be culled are as follows:

1) Backpackers that walk around barefoot because they think they’re ‘going native’. Not realizing that all the natives think they’re wierd scum bags.

2) People who get fake fibre glass dread locks on Khoa San presumably missing the whole point and culture of dread locks and the people who have real ones.

3) People who wear the following: Hard Rock Cafe tee shirts, Asian beer tee shirts, Thai red bull tee shirts, Diesel tee shirts, any tee shirt that bears the name and/or place that the wearer has visited. People advertising where they’ve been and what they’ve done so shamlessly make me and other forward thinkers sick. If I’ve offended anyone here (which I’m sure I have many) I’m sorry but you deserve to die.

4) People who get henna tatoos, if you’re going to do it, Billy no balls, do it.

5) People with outragously bad tattoos. Anyone with a big cat, Chinese characters (without having been to China and having knowledge of the language) and/or grim reepers shall be put at the front of the line to be kulled. People who roll their sleeves up to show any tattoo shall be tortured before death.

6) People wearing wank, dirty, ripped clothing because they think they look like the locals. Torture before death will be carried out to those who wear dirty, wank clothing despite having arse loads of Mommy and Daddy’s money in the bank.

7) The “Oi oi savaloy” contingent of British that are making there way out of their scuzzy holes and over to Asia.

8) People shunning material possessions and leading a simple life because they think it’s very native. When really, nearly every Asian wants a flash mobile phone and a Benz and they lead a minimalist life not through choice.

If you think these people disgust you and you believe you have what it takes to contribute to the success and eradication of lower human life that pollutes our gene pool and hampers the the progress of human evolution. Then send your C.V to me. (Sorry, priorty will be given to those with torture and mass murder experience)
If anyone has any further people they would like to see put to death please let me know and it will be put to the team.

[dirtydog]

I had a twisted return to Phnom Penh. After working in China, a black, nasty, sexless fuckhole, I returned to Thailand with a sick mind bent on fucking filth and doing as many hard-drugs as possible, particularly Kettamine. I desperately screwed the nastiest lady-boy scum on Khoa San.
Plastered in shite after fucking a Shwarzenegger-jawed she-male makes you feel a little shitty, and when they leave a foot-long shitstain on your mattress as they slide their pooey arse off, you are no longer able to pretend you had a bad dream.
Leaving Khoa San on a mini-bus is another shitty experience. Sharing a bus with a bunch of peachy faced, chirpy fuckwits made me grimace Dirty Harry style throughout the trip. The backpacker is a filthy animal, prone to B.O. and should be treated like shite at all times. I sat next to one such freak and stunted his ‘gettin ta know ya’ shite by telling him I’d been having sex with strange men all week and thought I had AIDS. The e-mail swapping shitstain was fake sleeping within minutes, giving me the opportunity to open my legs unfeasibly wide and scowl at the rest of the scum.

Arriving at Poipet I was greeted by filth and poverty which made me happy. I got through immigration with the rest of the animals and thought of saying something foul to the Siem Reap bound fuckwits, instead I decided to give them all one long, last dirty look. No one noticed so I just walked off.
‘Urchins’ were available at my disposal to carry my bags to the hotel. If you’re on a tight budget as I was it’s best to get the little malnourished fucks to lug your shit to your hotel and then throw rocks or beat them off with sticks when you get there. I found the small ones go down like a bag of shit after one blow to the top of the spine. got myself a hotel and searched out some Kettamine. One small pharmacy out of the twenty or so I checked sold me a bottle for a ridiculous 500 Baht, a dusty, old, ‘made in Checzeslovakia’ bottle. Reuniting with my old friend Kettamine brought a tear to my eye as I slammed a fat line up my nose. Next, was to find some action. I banged a Vietnamese slag, hunted down some pharmaceuticals and found myself another slag. I joined my Khmer pro in finding some Ya Ba. I smoked all night with her and became blindingly horny. She sucked my cock with such furious enthusiasm, like a famine-fucked orphan on a chocolate éclair. When I awoke the next morning I remembered the dodgy sex and my face in her border-whore bucket. The next hard drug I was to acquire after my sordid misadventure was Anti-Retroviral pills.
I lay like a corpse, sick in my new apartment for the first month but I was still happy to be back and I had a good friend there to chat and snort K with… The very man in fact they would later hail as ‘The King of Kettamine’! A man capable of legendary K-holing, a pioneer! It was once said this man consumed seven pharmacies worth a day, had his own factory for his consumption and bathed in liquid Kettamine later sucking it down with a straw! I can personally vouch for 3 grammes in one go and 3 bottles in 2 and a half hours.
I found another great friend in XXXX. She was eager to bring the 440ers together, we chatted on the phone and she seemed great, we arranged a meeting and I was keen to see what I imagined as a 40ish, slightly dizzy blonde. She was young, gorgeous and funky. She too had made an error as to who I was, of course a much greater error. As I strutted into the cafe I indicated a Gin and tonic on the rocks with two straws to the waitress with a quick flex of my raging left bicep and a slow wink. As I straddled the chair backwards I pointed my finger at her, loaded gun style… and fired. When I blew the imaginary smoke from my index finger I saw her eye lashes flutter and her eyes roll to the back of her head. I too felt slightly light headed at my own extraordinary coolness.
We became good friends and she had the idea for a party for all 440ers to get together at her place. I liked the idea and hi-jacked it like a rat. The “Horse Party” brought together nearly all of the regulars and some later became solid friends. Pills were flowing and free kettamine was stacked high like a mountain on my coffee table and it took us (some of us) until late the next afternoon to finish it off.
XXXX later introduced me to two good people, ZZZ and YYY as we all sat at the Black Eagle bar one night drooling about good times and memories on drugs. ZZZ had the ingenious idea of buying us all pills and going back to mine for K. We bought some mushy pea looking pills from the acne-scarred lake side dealer so many of us are familiar with. We dropped them and lightly snorted K… I insisted we finish the rest of the K in big fat equal lines each. I scraped, chopped and lined them up as evenly as I thought possible and we all sucked the burning powder up our nostrils and crashed on the mattress.

It was a bottle that was quickly finished by the four of us and the lines were big (for the day)
We melted together, packed ourselves together tightly, cuddling, we felt like we were in a bubble from the world. We were in exactly the same dimension, everything was made of red, dancing squares and the room looked 10 times what it was. We all saw the same. We lay on the mattress for hours feeling like one big, flat, mattress animal. We were one loved up, fucked up creature, not four people. We had a psychic connection at one point; it was very, very strange…
After lying for hours barely moving except to pull each other tighter, we all, without a word to each other, spontaneously sprang up. We instantly realized how wrong it was not to be the flat animal in the bubble and, without a word again, and in synchrony, we fitted back into our gooey, bodily jig-saw and smiled away more hours… (hours/minutes? I don’t know, who knows?)

At one point XXXX broke the bubble by sitting up. There were questions of genuine interest from us of what it was like out there.. out of the bubble. She described a predictably strange world and encouraged us to sit up and see. No one wanted to see, nothing was worth the energy of sitting up and it was quite inconceivable at the time that there could be anywhere in the world possibly nicer than the bubble. The “Bubble” was born. The last two left the mattress at 2 P.M. the following afternoon.
Bubble parties, from then on, had to be every weekend. There were regulars, for whom doing something else just wasn’t thought about, wasn’t an option. There was druggy talk of a global bubble revolution. The parties were at one of three houses every weekend. I bought lighting to trip people out, good music and my (wow! Springs!) mattress went to every house on top of a packed tuk tuk.
Cards were given out to ensure only good people were admitted, if you were liked you got a member’s card and you were part of the weekly scene. It was good times with good, unpretentious people. You didn’t have to be “cool” you just had to be a good person. Dub, Brazilian D&B, Lemon Jelly, Trance, Hard House and Techno blasted out of my stereo, motorbikes roared up and down the alley next to my apartment, people shouted above the music and drugged-tapped people stumbled out of my apartment for months without a single neighborly complaint. The eagerness for the bubble parties brought the parties from the start of Friday to Saturday to Thursday to Monday. These were long weekend benders, sometimes taking us out of the house staggering Evil Dead style to take sketchy taxis so we could take massive lines of K and float like paraplegics in the pitch black warm waters of Sihanoukville.
Of course there were casualties. Collateral damage occurred to the young and foolish. One bouncy tattooed lady snorted the granddaddy of all lines and lost the use of her limbs. She had to be taken away.
One loudmouthed mockney boy-spastic arriving boasted of his monstrous drug exploits and then dropped stone cold dead after swallowing a small pill and snorting a baby girl line of K. He was barred from future gatherings and christened ‘King Bantam: Lord of all Lightweights.’
For anyone who hasn’t tried bubbling, I recommend you try it at least once. I had some of the best times of my life bubbling in Phnom Penh. But after a while I thought I was taking too much drugs, getting my life too fucked up and just going too far and I decided to leave.
What a stupid fucking thing to do! What’s too far in Phnom Penh!? I’ll be back to take it further and harder soon.
Discreet Bubble parties are still alive and kicking in PP thanks to a dedicated hard-core. Mothering NGO’s eradicating K from our beloved pharmacies will never stamp out the fun of fun lovers.

[Marmite the Dog]

Err, they're nice, DD. :?

[raunchyroger]

scumbags

[NickA]

Interesting, veery interesting....

[friscofrankie]

interesting stuff.
The cambodia trip was specially refreshing. Such poignant prose....
touching.

[KoolJohn74]

wtf???

freaky...

[mad_dog]

‘King Bantam: Lord of all Lightweights.’
I like that one

[Covertjay]

Cool posts..............