Sunday, September 18, 2011

Quieff on Command

By Kathleen


 I am no prude. Really, I’m sometimes ( to some people) shockingly open mined and when it comes to sex, I believe as long as the people involved are consenting and of age I don’t much care what the hell they do.

I’ve been to strip clubs, see the shows in Vegas, Watched naked women eat sandwiches in Amsterdam and been awe struck by the lovely ladies at the Lido in Paris. I’m not squeamish. That being said there are some things that just gross me out.

Friday night, Pattaya City, Thailand.  We were walking down the infamous Walking Street, part Las Vegas, part Thailand, part sleaze factory with our ESL training companions following them as they hunted down some of the more exotic offerings.

Pattaya City is one of those places that you can skip unless you are middle aged, undersexed and overweight, for it seems the only thing to do here is spend money on overpriced piss water (beer) and make lady “friends”.

Though prostitution is technically illegal the Thai Police decidedly look the other way when it comes to sex tourism on their own turf. A bit hypocritical seeing as they don’t look the other way when it comes to other illicit things that are decidedly less harmful to individuals and society.

Prostitution for many in the tourist hubs of Thailand, and especially Pattaya, is a way of life. Young women and men, generally from middle class families, end up in the oldest profession on earth by a variety of avenues. For some an important wage earner has died in their family and in order to continue living posh lives they take up the lifestyle, for others it’s a way to earn cash quick for school or a business, for others it’s a way to spice up their lives, a Thai gap year of sorts. Those are the willing, those who come to the clubs and bars of their own volition. They are the ones you see walking arm and arm with the fat tourists and looking bored.

There are others of course. Where there is a semi-legal sex trade there’s a totally illegal sex trade, but as a tourist you probably won’t come across it. That’s for export, or for the locals.

Walking Street is the shopping mall of sex, Go-Go girls, boys and everything in between strut their stuff in teeny tiny short and shirts. You can stroll the neon lit streets glancing at “ Sexy Airlines” stewardess or Moon Club’s astronauts. It makes for an interesting walk if nothing else. That is if you don’t mind the terrible ‘80’s cover music blaring out of open air bars and being solicited for ping-pong shows.

But ping-pong shows are exactly what our friends wanted, they were out for the full Thai experience. Feeling like a terrible feminist I grudgingly agreed to accompany them, on the basis of a once in a lifetime experience. I was underwhelmed.

Our first stop, to warm up to the idea, was a Go Go bar where scrawny Thai girls stood on tables and pretend to dance. I have never seen such lackluster movement and I’m not big on the Thai aesthetic of super super skinny. Clearly some of the men thought otherwise as they got felt up at their tables. Not my idea of a great time, but sure.

Next we headed to a bar where the ladies could refuel on super strong Long Island Iced teas, in glasses shaped like naked women. I drank City Gin along with Fiz and our guy friend. Didn’t seem like the type of place you wanted to be off your guard in. Though I’m sure a drink would have gone a long way towards easing the pain of listening to the cover singer whine Bryan Adam’s “ Everything I Do” off beat and out of tune.

Finally the group leaders got enough liquid courage in them to head out and find one of the many, many, little dudes selling tickets to the ping-pong shows. For less then $10 each we got pulled upstairs into a seedy little room with low ceilings jam packed with tourists. It was more interesting to see who was watching then to watch the show.

Big blonde German women, American and European couples on dates, Middles Eastern men in groups looking shell shocked. We sat down in front of a platform that held a naked woman covered in bubbles. She rubbed them around with lackluster motions and checked her cell phone every two minuets until her shift was up.

Then the main act began, various Thai women doing all number of strange and bizarre things with their vaginas. Opening soda bottles, shooting darts, blowing out candles, you know the usual.

Then things got weird, one smoked two cigarettes out of her nether bits, which really must be terrible for you never mind the smell. Another “drank coke” with her pussy, a third pulled razor blades out by a string, yes… razor blades, she even cut things with them afterwards.  Another pulled needles out. Basically the least sexy things imaginable.

The girls loved it, Fiz and our guy friend and I sat staring in horror and checking our watches. An hour is a long time to watch that shit.

Adding to the gross factor was the knowledge of how unhygienic it all was. One woman who shot frozen bananas out of her va-jay-jay picked a fallen one OFF THE FLOOR and put it back in her. She also pulled audience members (including our friends) out to catch the flying bananas in cups. For the record I declined to catch a banana, yeah… no… total pass.

The famous “ping-pong” act was completely anti-climactic (no pun intended), she literally put three of them up their squatted over a cup and laid ping-pong eggs. Not impressed, I could do that. People have babies with those things a ping-pong doesn’t move me much.

Basically all the acts were performed using the same skill set. Vaginal muscles contracting and expelling trapped air… at home we call this a pussy fart, or a quieff. All they were doing was inserting objects and quieffing on command (instead of accidently after sex just when you think you look cool).

Throughout the performance the girl with the cell phone was replaced by a woman who coated herself in the same bubbles and touched another woman in most boring ways possible. Cleary lesbian sex hasn’t caught on here. It was mostly just awkward.

Now picture all of this with nice sexy young Thai’s and it seems a bit better than it was. The reality was many were as old as my mother. The whole show I kept staring at one lady thinking, she’s somebody’s mom, though when she asked to see our friends who-ha (and offer her cash) I stopped feeling like I was taking advantage of her.

Just another Thai paradox, Ping-Pong shows OK, facial hair deeply insulting. Not sure this is the place for us after all.

1 comment:

  1. " at home we call this a pussy fart, or a quieff"

    hahahahaha i love you! thanks for these writings you guys. priceless.