the third sex

Jinny was a ladyboy who started off by liking me very much, and ended up by not liking me at all. May was another. Aon was yet another. And Dew. The list goes on, and quite probably it is even longer than even I realise.

This is one of the problems I face in dealing with such a large volume of ladyboys. Many of them become attached to me because I’m kind to them, and I’m a people-friendly guy who tends to be understanding of their problems. Because I treat them so nicely in and out of the sheets they assume that they are the only ones I really care about. My own feelings are that, yes, I like them very much and I respect them, but there is a very long queue of ladyboys who want their photograph taken, and some of those are going to end up afterwards as particular favourites. Cue hurt feelings, tantrums and tears.

Sargent Shameless asked me recently why I hadn’t taken a regular ladyboy partner, and I said that there had been several occasions when I had fallen for someone but that the tide had always overwhelmed me. The number I deal with simply is too great, and the temptations too many. Plus there is the fact that ladyboys grow older, and within a handful of years many of them become utterly different to the gorgeous 18-year-old you had those intense feelings for a few years back.

I realised that I was sounding presumptuous. Devilishly handsome I may be, but I am no longer in my youth and I bear no resemblance to the handsome young Thai guys who ladyboys tend to swoon over in their more private moments. In fact, I have taken a look at some of the soft porn magazines that ladyboys masturbate over (a visit to a ladyboy’s room can be an educational experience) and even I have to admit that some of the young guys posing in them are highly attractive.

So, it’s not physical attraction. It is a kind of understanding. There is a bond that forms when you take photographs of someone. This is the case even with simple portraits, but when you are photographing someone who takes off their clothes and then poses in the most provocative way before wanking off for you, then that bond strengthens. If you make them look especially good in their pictures, even better. And of course if you take them to bed later, the attachment becomes a more emotional one.

The life of a ladyboy involves much rejection. Quite probably she has a difficult family background, and has lacked love and respect from an early age. She is desperate for male approval. Into her life comes someone who wants to take her photograph, show her how good she can look, who likes to laugh and joke with her, pays her well for a couple of hours’ easy work, and then invites her back for a little gentle loving that doesn’t involve anything too gross. It’s not a bad deal, and for someone only in their late teens, quite possibly something of a coup.

For me, essentially a nice bloke who doesn’t like to hurt anyone, this can eventually become difficult to handle, because the number of regular partners eventually becomes too many even for someone who is chronically priapic. And so, the anguish begins. I have learned to cope with it by keeping a distance, not giving my phone number to those who I keep in touch with after the shoot, but instead getting my long-suffering assistant Ek to handle all the communications.

I never mean any harm, and I treat everyone with respect. But this is Thailand, and the Thais are amongst the most emotional people in the world. Result: eventually, tears, scorn, and bitter feelings, albeit on one side only. After all these years, I’m bullet-proof.

I mentioned Jinny, who was one of the earliest internet stars and one of my earliest regular partners. She was a very intelligent girl, with great beauty. I remember meeting her once outside Robinson”s department store at Soi Asoke, and as we waited for a taxi a crowd of European tourists came up and began talking to her, telling her how beautiful she was. Jinny was radiant at that, and I was proud of her. “They think I real lady,” she said when we got back to my place. She slipped out of her clothes, and as her short yet strong dick stood out straight I told her she was better than any real lady. And so she was. 

My feelings were genuine enough, but I hated the thought that I was being duplicitous. I wasn’t deceiving Jinny, as she knew very well what else I got up to, and besides she was working at the Crack House, and was consequently getting as much cock as she could handle. But at that moment we were like genuine lovers, and later, when I had gone through several of her friends, she became distinctly annoyed with me. 

It was all very sad. Then she had the operation, which put her right beyond my interest. She moved back to her home province and took a mainstream job in local government. I hope she is happy.  

I was with a ladyboy, up close and intimate, with her on her knees and kneeling over me, when she gave a little cry and lurched forward and managed to shoot a load into both of my eyes. I don’t know if you have ever had semen in your eye, but it stings like the blazes. I went into the bathroom and splashed water onto my face, and the stinging subsided slightly. I went back into the bedroom. My friend put a hand to her mouth.
 
“Look like Dracula,” she said, helpfully.
 
I went back into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My eyes were glowing red. I went back to where she was laying comfortably, and made a grab for her now-flaccid cock. Careful, I said, or I’ll take a bite. Cue for giggles from my cute little friend, who seized the offending instrument and waved it at me. It hardened up again. Half an hour later there was another spurt, not quite such a violent one this time, but I was more wary anyway. It went down a treat.
 
Anyone who follows the photosets on the main site will know that I try very hard to capture that moment when a jet of white-hot cum leaps into the air. I do sometimes manage to get a picture, but to be honest it is just luck. The stuff travels so fast that I’m almost certainly going to miss the magic moment.
 
A video of course is different, and when I play back that crucial moment, it is usually all over within a couple of frames. Simply a white blur. Take a look at the video stills that illustrate this post. The young lady, appropriately enough named Joy, has turned towards me to ensure that I haven’t fallen asleep over my camera. Then a white spurt shoots upwards and lands on her thigh. The camera records at 25 frames a second, and the stills here are two continuous frames. They are the best of the bunch. Most of the others show only a few airborne specks of Joy juice, as the spurt breaks up.

In many cases there is no jet. Some models (leaving aside the hormonal influences) produce a slower, thicker consistency of cum, which dumps a puddle on their pubic hair and tummy, and leaves a glutinous, sticky residue on their fingers. That can make a very pretty picture, especially if the stuff is very white. Not all of it is, of course: hormones can reduce it to a colourless liquid rather like egg-white. The hormones also reduce volume: many is the occasion that I haven’t realised a model has actually cum until I see a slight moistness in the palm of a hand, or a couple of glistening droplets on pubic hair.
 
I did actually do some googling on the subject of sperm velocity, but all I could find was some incomprehensible equations from medical research papers, data on the mating habits of sea urchins and Atlantic salmon, and the inevitable ribald remarks on forums. Personal observation indicates that a big hard cock shoots a faster load, but that may be just an optical illusion. Fascinating subject. Back to the camera. Maybe better wear protective goggles.