Sexual Encounters of The Local Shop Kind
Being wooed by a sexually deviant peasant with a drinking problem is quite possibly one of the most revolting experiences that a cultured gentleman such as myself could ever have the misfortune to be exposed to.
I'm of course not talking about the lecherous parasites whom can so oft be spotted swinging round poles, flap's a flutter, in the touristic red light areas; despite their abundant character flaws their chosen vocation, that of taking it hard up the backside, has in fact inadvertently equip them with a cursory set of skills which allows them to almost function like real-life human people.
Moving away from the likes of Pattaya and Phuket and we find ourselves in the presence of females who are yet to grasp the basics of what's socially acceptable and what's downright fucking disgraceful behaviour.
Take last night for example.
I approached the local shop and was most heartened to find it empty save the presence of a twenty-something female farmhand who surely wouldn't hinder my passage to an hour or so's hardcore reading.
How wrong I was.
I made towards the crisp section with a view to liberate a packet of Lays Originals only to find my path was blocked courtesy of a gyrating backside to my groin. I'm certainly not adverse to the affections of females but tend to draw the line at alcoholic labourers who haven't bathed in the last 4 months, not to mention the fact she was in possession of a husband with psychotic tendencies. So with this I politely told her to kindly get the fuck out of my face.
A bit like her, this didn't wash.
She took a seat beside me and began feeding me my snack. I reluctantly took them from her which obviously signalled as a green light for the obligatory back rub to commence.
The back rub stealthily transformed into a sustained sexual assault during which I had to beckon the shopkeeper over to rid me of the foul entity who was now currently straddling me on the exterior seating arrangement.
Before he could rescue me, the young farmer dismounted and with the air of a female who had to visit the restroom to powder her nose, exclaimed: I'm just gonna go for piss - which she did, right fucking there at the front of the shop, and promptly came back to resume feeding me my Lays Originals - which I of course refused through a mouthful of puke.
For my next trick I will attempt to find a member of the local populace who doesn't violently ingest mucus at every available opportunity..
