the third sex

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I was in a taxi heading for home at about 6pm on Friday evening. Friday is the worst day in Bangkok for traffic, and in addition it had been raining. Sukhumvit Road was locked solid in both directions.

The taxi inched forward, and as we approached Nana Plaza a vision came up behind us on the pavement, heading on foot in the same direction, and easily overtaking us.

It was a girl wearing a backless dress, the backlessness so extreme that you could see the top half of her bare bottom.

“Look at that!” I gasped at the taxi driver, who had been peering moodily through his rain-spattered windscreen. Indeed, the entire traffic queue was looking at that, because I saw heads craning in the cars in front and to the side of us.

The driver gave a short laugh. “Kathoey!” he said.

And of course, yes, it was. Only a ladyboy would venture out in public like that. A genetic girl, not even the most shameless of Nana Plaza’s floozies, would ever walk along Bangkok’s main thoroughfare with her bare bum hanging out of her dress.

I have spoken on this site before about ladyboy dress sense, and it is something that never ceases to leave me astounded.

Time and time again I get ladyboys turning up for a photoshoot in outfits that would have them arrested anywhere else. Bra-less, with breasts poking out of skimpy t-shirts or see-through blouses; tiny little shorts with bottom cheeks hanging out underneath; skirts so short that you can see bulging knickers beneath the hem; and costumes so breathtakingly theatrical they would make anything from the Crazy Horse look tame.

Given that this is a residential complex, with families and kids around, I tell my scouts time and time again to warn the models not to turn up in something provocative, but to bring some sexy clothing with them. But of course, I might as well be talking to myself.

The thing with a ladyboy is, that she is essentially signalling she is instantly available. This is why she lets everything hang out. Instant availability is what gives sex with a ladyboy such an explosive quality, and as so many of us like our girls (GGs or ladyboys) to act slutty, the provocative clothing can be a real turn-on.

But only indoors. Not out in the street. Boy oh boy, can it get embarrassing sometimes.

I was with a ladyboy friend named Anne. She was a good-looking girl, long hair, about five-seven in height, and she had one of the most beautiful cocks I have ever seen. It was thick at the base, and gradually decreasing along its considerable length to an arrow-shaped head. When she wanked off, the head would turn from its usual candy-pink to a dark red, which always fascinated me.

We went to her hometown of Udon Thani, in Issan. There, rather than stay in the family home, I took a room for us in a local hotel. So we would spend the nights in the hotel and then call round to her house in the morning before going off for the day in the pick-up truck I had rented.

By the time the evening came round, I was always ready to get Anne into bed before dinnertime, so that we could then go out on the town later. I would lay her on the bed and watch her great long cock grow, so that it pointed straight up towards the ceiling. It was an awesome sight.

One evening a couple of days after we arrived, we had just started on our routine when there came a tapping on the door. Anne got up to see who it was, but she forget to put her cock back into her pants, walking to the door with the great long thing wagging in front of her as she went.

Anne pulled the door open. Thankfully, it wasn’t the room maid. It was Anne’s friend Channi, a cute little ladyboy who I had met briefly for the first time that morning. Looking down now at this huge long cock staring at her pointblank, she let out a little scream of laughter. Anne, momentarily puzzled, looked down and realised. Then she too collapsed into laughter and the two of them stood there holding onto each other helplessly.

Channi came into the room. Anne’s erection had subsided, and her cock swung loosely between her thighs as she went to get Channi a Coke from the minibar. I had retreated modestly between the sheets when I heard the knock on the door, and now I flipped the bedclothes back and invited Channi in. She looked at Anne, who simply smiled and slid in on the other side of me.

Ladyboys are not into each other. The ladyboy lesbian pictures you see are all set up by the photographer. Ladyboys also tend to be shy of each other. So, before little Channi could change her mind and get out of bed again, I slipped my hand under her skirt, took hold of her small dick and gave her a hand job. She was quite happy with that. Then she lay watching as I took hold of Anne’s cock. She said she had never seen it before, and was immensely impressed by the size of it. She watched fascinated as I did to Anne what I had just done to her, and when the head of Anne’s dick blushed dark red and then shot a load, she gasped: “Ooh! Suay!” Which means beautiful. I had to agree with her.

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Scene: The Criterion Theatre, London. Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson have been invited backstage to see the preparations and rehearsals for the Asian Exotica Christmas and New Year show, shortly to have its opening night.

Holmes: I say, Watson, this is going to be a very exciting production.

Watson: Indeed, Holmes, and it is most generous of the promoters to allow us backstage like this.

H: Just look at that beautiful Thai girl, Watson. Through there, in the changing room. What a spectacularly lovely creature.

W: Beautiful she most certainly is, Holmes, but how on earth do you know she is Thai?

H: Elementary, my dear Watson. Observe if you will the calf of her right leg. I think you will see a lozenge-shaped patch of discoloured skin, about three inches by two in dimension?

W: Yes, what could be the cause?

H: Falling off motorcycles is part of the job description for being a Thai, Watson. The hot exhaust pipe touches the skin as the machine keels over. The burn mark is known colloquially as a “Thai tattoo.”

W: Good heavens. The poor young lady. I do hope she wasn’t badly hurt.

H: No, the motorcycle was travelling slowly and it toppled to the right, allowing her to roll clear, probably onto a grass track.

W: How do you deduce that, Holmes?

H: There is a slight horizontal scratch just above her left knee, Watson. That was caused by the wing mirror, as she fell from the vehicle. There are no scars on her hands or elbows, indicating a soft landing.

W: I see. But it’s not only the Thais who ride motorcycles, Holmes.

H; There are other signs to indicate her nationality, Watson. Observe the tiny swastika-shaped tattoo on her inside right ankle. That is common amongst Thais, usually done at a temple fair when they are very young, and believed to strengthen the spirit and bring luck.

W: It’s tiny, the size of a postage stamp.

H: I would even venture to suggest that she is from the northeast of the country, Watson, the region the Thais call Issan.

W: What is your reasoning there, Holmes? They all look the same to me.

H: Observe the bridge of the nose, Watson. There is no cartilage there. This is a characteristic of the Issan people. It has allowed the evolution of what is known as the ‘Siamese kiss’, in which the nose is flattened against the face of a loved one and a deep sniff of approval given.

W: May we test your theories, Holmes?

H: Certainly. I say, my young lady. Might you confirm for us that you are from the Issan region of the fair country of Thailand?

Girl: Kah!

H: Thank you, my dear, and may we wish you success. That confirms it, Watson. Thai she is. Now, I think we have seen enough for this evening. Come! A fine chop awaits us at Simpson’s in the Strand.

W: Extraordinary, Holmes. I would never have guessed her nationality.

H: We both observed exactly the same detail, my dear Watson. The difference being that I was able to deduce a number of simple conclusions from what I saw. My, she was a beautiful woman.

W: There is only one thing, Holmes.

H: What is that, Watson?

W: She wasn’t a woman.

H: Not a woman, Watson? What on earth do you mean?

W: Well, she had a hell of a dick on her, Holmes.

H: Great heavens, Watson! I didn’t notice!

I was with a particularly cute little ladyboy one evening during the week. She was straddling my chest, playing with her dick, when she suddenly shut her eyes and shot a load. Most of it went up my nose. “Sorry,” she giggled. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

I was just getting over a cold at the time, and the sudden infusion of warm cum made me sneeze. The funny thing is, that the next morning my cold had completely vanished. Does semen have any medicinal qualities, I wondered.

I remember a while back, living with a ladyboy who swore that semen was good for her complexion. She actually had beautiful skin: being from the Deep South, her skin was coffee-coloured and of a smooth and creamy texture. She avidly followed beauty treatment tips, and somehow got this notion that rubbing semen into her face each day would give her complexion an even more alluring glow.

It was pretty tough on me, I tell you. Each evening when I came home from work she would instruct me to lie down on the bed. Then, with her warm bare bottom in my face to provide some visual stimulation she got busy with her hand and within a very short period was smoothing cum into her face, in the same way she used cold cream, sitting in front of the dressing table mirror while she rubbed it into her skin.

For two or three nights she subjected me to the same treatment, kneeling over me and bringing herself off with a brisk hand, directing the hot stream carefully onto my face: because if it goes into your eyes, it smarts like the blazes.

I found that as it dried on my face, it gave a very uncomfortable feeling, as if I was wearing a mask, and that when I smiled or spoke it felt as if my face was cracking. So, after a while I demured. She, however, kept her own facials going for seven or eight evenings before staring intently in the mirror and sighing that it didn’t seem to make any difference. So we stopped.

But does it actually help your skin? I don’t really know. If you look at our movie section on the main site, at the movie I did of Bea and Dee, you will see Dee kneeling over Bea and about to shoot a load. Bea however giggles and says something, and Dee instead moves back and cums on her tummy. Bea is telling Dee not to cum in her face, and afterwards I asked her why. “Give me pimples!” she said.

One thing is for sure, however: it certainly can taste good. Much depends on diet, but a clean-living ladyboy (lots of vegetables and fruit, little meat, no alcohol, no smoking) can deliver a warm, creamy, nutty flavoured load that really is quite addictive.

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I’m afraid that Sargeant Shameless has just sent me the following missive that is shameless even by his deplorable standards. I reproduce it only as a warning of how low a man can sink.

On my latest incursion into Patpong I stopped at KC3, Patpong’s only ladyboy-only bar to catch up on old friends and try to make new ones. KC3’s house rules are that as soon as a customer sits down, a bunch of ladyboys line themselves up in front of him and pester him until he agrees to pick at least one of them to buy a ladydrink or possibly more. But since the Sargeant plays by his own rules, he shooed all the nagging ladyboys away while scanning the bar for the prospect most to his liking.

Before I go any further with the story, I would like to make a small interlude here to clarify that the reason I was in Patpong that night was that I was on a date with a European woman, who was looking to buy a knock-off designer purse in Patpong’s night market. Spotting an opportunity, I suggested she look for the purse at her unhurried and exhaustive female shopping pace, while I looked myself for a supposedly hard-to-find pair of men’s designer jeans. After we went our different shopping ways, I bought the first pair of jeans I saw and made a beeline for KC3. But the reality was that I had barely one hour before I had to meet my girlfriend again and thus was not even thinking of attempting any shameless endeavours.

Back to KC3. I did see a new ladyboy very much to my liking and invited her over for a drink. She started the usual small talk in hopes of bagging a paying customer. “What your name?” “Where you come from?” “How long you stay Thailand?” “You been to bar before?” The Sargeant just usually wings these questions as his mood strikes: sometimes telling the truth, sometimes not. So when the ladyboy asked, “Where you stay Bangkok?” I made up an answer by picking a number street out of my head: “Sukhumvit Soi 2″.

And then the most incredible thing happened: The ladyboy’s face lit up, she looked at me deeply and hugged me closely saying “I remember you now.” And she apologised with kisses for not having “recognized” me right away. Then she added ” I smoke yaba your apartment. You very good farang.”

Apparently, she had mistaken me for a Bangkok punter with an apartment on Soi 2 who had barfined her and provided her with all-you-can-smoke yaba (a crack-like drug favoured by Thai bartypes). Seeing the beautiful smile on her face, I did not want to disappoint her and just made a sheepish face as if saying, “I was afraid you would never recognise me.” Well, whoever the Soi 2 guy was, he sure made an impression on the ladyboy, as she took such a fancy to him that turned to me and said “You not fuck me that time, you can fuck me now, no money OK.”

My eyes popped out, my pulse started racing, and the shameless knob started throbbing against my zipper. I had about half an hour before the agreed time to meet with my girlfriend so I had to decide fast. This being the kind of situation the Sargeant lives for, I knew I had to go for it, and just hope the other guy did not have a small dick or some other feature that might give me away. So I pulled out the money for the barfine, told her to get dressed and hurry up to one of Patpong’s short time lounges. We made our way there separately, just in case my girlfriend was within visual range (thank heavens she wasn’t!). The encounter was much shorter than the Sargeant would have liked, but I made the point of penetrating her as soon as I got hard and of doing it from behind to minimise chances of her looking at me and realising her confusion.

In the end, I offered to give her 300 baht (less than 10 US$), which she accepted without bitterness at how small it was and even gave me one more big, heartfelt hug. I would have given her more money, but that would have spoiled the experience of me getting a freebie, which was the whole point.

I did make it back to my girlfriend at the agreed spot on time as she happily waved a fake Dolce&Gabana purse at me and I reciprocated by pulling out of a bag a pair of studded fake Armani jeans. Turns out they were not even my size so I had to go back to Patpong the next day to exchange them. But that’s another story.