Mongering after the Apocalypse – Part 5

So it’s a Friday night July 10. I’m sitting in my apartment idly reading some TF reviews on a PA thread. I’m feeling a slight beer buzz after drinking two Beer Laos in comfy solitude.

I get mildly excited by a review of this TF babe, who reportedly can deep throat, but doesn’t allow CIM. Well, nobody’s perfect.

I check her out TF profile: Age 21, 5-feet, 1-inch tall, 93 lbs.

Oh yeah – lookit those gross big blowjob lips!

I send Blowjob Lips a message, and keep browsing.

About 15 minutes later, I get a TF notice she’s reading my profile. Many minutes pass, but no reply from her.  Fuckit. I keep trolling TF – plenty of fish in Pattaya’s bountiful sea of pussy.

Later, I’m rechecking her profile, and notice her age range setting for desired punters: Age 18 to 45. Whoops!

Let’s see, at age 67, I guess I’m somewhat over her age range limit.

Filthy old grandpa! Get back to your nursing home bed! And don’t forget your Depends diapers!

Of course, I had also lied about my TF profile age. I listed myself as age 50, and used an old photo that softens my wrinkly, grizzled face.

Now, presumably a few fellow addicts are aghast at my “age inappropriate” predilection for ripe young Thai ass.

Well, yes, it does seem for a certain type of man, the older you get, the younger you like them.

A possible underlying motivation for this deviant craving might be a demented old man’s denial of his aging – and his fear of inevitable death.

Maybe what I’m really lusting for in yearning for young female bodies is what I can never have again: their youth.

My life voyage feels like it’s entering the twilight phase. I can clearly see the edge of the horizon. It keeps moving closer every damn day – until I eventually plunge over the edge and into the abyss.

I will not go gently into that good night. For sure I will go down fucking!

In Pattaya, I can freely fuck chicks all the way down to 18, if I so choose. Who the fuck wants to fuck a wrinkly old bag in her 60s? Or even 50s?

So I’ll just keep poking chirpy young Thai birds until the age gap becomes too ridiculous, even for me. Like when I’m in my 70s, perhaps.

I figure I have plenty of time left, before I have to grudgingly settle for fucking the “old” lonely Thai ladies in their 30s or 40s. The worn-out hags can wait until I’m really old – like maybe in my 80s.

As long as my old wrinkly dick has the (kamagra) power, and my wallet enough cash, I will keep tapping willing young Thai pussy.

No need for a filthy grandpa to feel guilty or ashamed in Pattaya, eh? It’s a free world, especially here. Consenting legal adults and all that.

No one is forcing young Thai hookers to fuck a disgusting old farang. They are totally free to reject a dirty old bastard – like that snobby BJ Lips slut just did to me now on TF.

I just have to keep going. Keep moving forward. The day you stop moving is the day you die.

Soon enough I’ll be beneath the ground, returning to dust. And so will you. Then, none of this will really matter, will it?

Onward with happy pussy hunting!

I continue my TF trolling, and pause at this one:

“Meploy” is age 23, 5-feet, 6-inches, 97 pounds.

Kinda tall for a Thai chick, about my height. But her weight indicates that she might be a stringbean. I’m trying to determine from her photo if she has skinny arms and legs.

I don’t know why, but sometimes I get obsessed with a female’s body parts. A recent craving for skinnybones chicks got triggered last year, when I was still living in Bangkok.

The local 7-Eleven had a new young clerk, whose innocence and tall, slim body excited me.

A sneak photo of “Beem,” at a vendor’s cart in Huai Khwang, Bangkok.

I knew it was a foolish obsession, but being an obsession, it triggered my pathetic fantasies of being forever young. Ultimately, I had to wake up.

Beem wasn’t P4P. An old farang like me with no “game” whatsoever could not buy her pussy at any price.  

The deal-breaker was that Beem did not speak any English and I did not speak any Thai. So we could not communicate at all. It was a laughable pipe dream, doomed from the start.

But, here’s the thing about being a sexpat in Thailand.

I can look for a P4P chick with the same body type, and pretend like I’m fucking the 7-Eleven skinny-bones chick.

Hahaha! I’m so wickedly warped and filthy eh? But if it remains a fantasy in my mind, no one is harmed, yes?

I would not date-rape the virginal Beem by spiking her drink. I would not think of stalking and kidnapping Beem, and keep her chained in my studio while raping her multiple times. There are men who do this. But that’s not my thing, really.

I look at another TF photo of MePloy.

Aha! A Soi 6 uniform maybe?

I notice her pipe-like arms in the photo and get excited.

I picture myself stroking and grabbing MePloy’s forearms while I’m fucking her, and savoring the supple, smooth feel of their youthful slimness.

Sold!

I send Meploy a TF message, and include my LINE ID.

But again, no response after many minutes. Another strikeout, it seems.

However, about 20 minutes later, I’m startled by my LINE message beep on my phone.

It’s Meploy!

Her real name is “Ploy,” and she just greets me with a simple “Hi.”

I just cut to the chase in my reply.

Yeah, I think to myself, why not fuck this Ploy? It’s about 9:25 pm.

The front desk clerks should have locked up the hotel lobby and gone home by now.

No need to fear the Walk of Shame. I can safely bring Ploy to my room from the building’s garage entrance.

I idly check out Ploy’s older posts on her LINE.

Aieee!

Buyer’s remorse emerges. But it’s too late now to back out.

I check out another photo.

Well, she looks skinny enough in this photo.

Nowadays, a chick’s face matters less to me than her age and body.

Bring in on, then!

I hurriedly slurp a previously-opened packet of kamagra gel I had kept in the fridge. It’s about a week old, with maybe only a third of erectile-gel left. Well, we’ll see what happens.

I just hope my weary old man dick has enough power tonight to invade young pussy.

I hurriedly open a cabinet drawer, and cover up my 20,000 baht of spare cash with an old pair of shorts. You never know if an unknown freelancer is a thief.

I take the elevator to the first floor and get out. I look to my left, and am startled to see the lobby is still open! The Thai lady clerk is still sitting behind the front desk counter.

Shit!

Too late. Events have been set in motion. There’s no turning back.

As I walk up the soi to the 7-Eleven at the corner, I briefly ponder taking MePloy to a Short-Time room, at the Jasmine Villa hotel down Buakhao Road.

The room is only 250-baht for one hour, and the hotel is only a 5-minute Songtheaw ride away. But I vaguely recall they close the front desk around 10 p.m., so I reject the idea.

I may be able to sneak Ploy into my room. R-Con Residence has banned visitors since the coronavirus lockdown began, and started closing the lobby at 9 p.m.

I’m fairly certain the nice front desk clerk wouldn’t call me out if she saw me with Ploy. She would likely just wait until the next day, to politely remind me of the no-visitors rule.

I just want to avoid the shame of being exposed as the dirty old man I am. Must save face in Thailand, you know.

I get to the 7-Eleven on Buakhao road. I immediately see a motosai parked across the busy street.

A young Thai guy with his young chick beside the bike look at me. Her body looks curvy but solid, slightly thick in her hips and legs.

I immediately make eye contact with Ploy, and we nod at each other in recognition.

I feel instantly letdown. Ploy has a normal chick’s body for her size, but her arms and legs are not skinny.

Sigh. Fooled again by TF!

But then again, who’s to say that Ploy is not secretly disappointed at seeing me – an old, small Asian American, often mistaken for a Thai man. (“What? Is that the old farang who want fuck my pussy?  Oh well, too late to back out now.”)

And yet, I am sure that in these COVID-19 times of desperation, money trumps all in Pattaya.

I smile at Ploy as she crosses the street.

The young Thai guy drives away after we exchange curious looks. I feel a little uneasy. I had wanted to make a good impression – to reassure him I’m just a harmless old, horny farang.

I wonder if he is Ploy’s boyfriend or husband? Maybe a typically jobless, gambling, drinking, whore-beating pimp of a Thai boyfriend?

But I don’t want to ask Ploy an awkward question. So I say nothing about her driver. We start walking to my hotel’s garage. Ploy’s English is good enough to chat comfortably.

Ploy is OK-looking actually. Her face is clear, and there’s no pimples that were on display in her TF photo.

Yeah, most guys would consider Ploy’s body acceptable, although not especially sexy.

She’s a bit taller than me, which nowadays is not a turn-on for me. I like my chicks as small as possible, so that I can feel like a big man by comparison.

We enter R-Con’s garage, as I explain to Ploy my stealth plan.

I will use my keycard to open the hallway entrance door, while Ploy is following me closely – using my body as a shield to prevent the hotel clerk from seeing her.

We quickly enter the hallway, and step into the elevator on the left, which luckily opens instantly.

Once safely inside the elevator, we laugh in relief. I ask Ploy if the clerk saw her.

“I don’t think so,” she says.

Hah! Mission successful!

No Walk of Shame tonight for this dirty old farang!

We ride the elevator to the 4^th floor.

We walk to the end of the corridor, and enter my room, which is stifling hot.

I never use air conditioning, because I prefer to feel warm rather than cold. And also because I’ve been rather sickly the past few years in Bangkok and Pattaya.

In fact, I still have the remnants of some kind of cold virus. I can feel it in the raw passage of my airways, especially when I wake in the morning.

Initially, I thought I might have the coronavirus. I even had a fleeting thought that I might be one of the unlucky ones, and die from it.

My first regret was that my unwritten stories will die with me. No one would ever really know how I became a monger – or that I had even existed on this earth.

Anyway, after two months of this stubborn virus remnant clinging stubbornly somewhere in my body, I can’t possibly be contagious. I feel about 98 percent healthy.

Fuckit. There won’t be any kissing of young whores tonight anyway.

In the room, I apologize to Ploy about the heat as she goes off to shower.  I had already showered before we met, so I just stripped and waited for her.

Ploy comes out wrapped in R-Con’s big white towel. Curious, I ask if her motosai driver was her boyfriend or husband.

She quickly replies, “No, no. He is my Peechai. I am number two.”

I look at her in puzzlement, but act like I understand.

What does she mean? Is she a Gik? A “number-two” girlfriend or mistress?

I also find out the Ploy is a native of Pattaya.

Rather disappointingly, Ploy reveals that she has a 7-year-old daughter.

“What?” I exclaim. “You are 23, and your daughter is 7?  That means . . . you had your baby when you was 16!”

Ploy laughs. “Yes, I was very young.”

Oh shite. A baby-loosened pussy. Sigh.

I tell Ploy to lie down on the bed. “I massage you,” I say.

Ploy is surprised, and lies hesitantly on her stomach on my king-size bed.

I start massaging her legs and ample, curvy butt, covered by the big white towel. It feels pleasant to squeeze and jiggle her soft ass cheeks.

I not turned on really. I’m just going through the motions. This is not fantasy massaging my  skinnybones 7-Eleven dream girl Beem.

Oh well. Carry on. I then shuffle on my knees on the bed, toward Ploys face.
“You suck?” I ask her. “Blowjob.”

Ploy obediently turns on her side, and takes my dick into her mouth.

Oh yes, Ploy gives a pleasantly decent blowjob. After a few minutes I start face-fucking her, while sticking my finger easily into her loose moist pussy.

Ploy tolerates my vigorous dick thrusting deeply into her mouth for awhile. But she has to stop after a few minutes, gasping for breath.

Unlike Soi Honey’s blowjob queen “Ola” with her pile-driving blowjobs, there’s not much sucking stamina from this young Ploy.

OK time for the main event.

I slip on a condom, and my dick glides effortlessly into Ploy’s loose pussy. No lube needed.

I start sucking Ploy’s nipples. She laughs and says they will spurt milk if I suck hard. I hesitate and try sucking gingerly, tasting a mild sweetness.

I feel mildly repelled. I don’t want to suck a young mama’s milk.

It’s would be like being a chick giving a blowjob to a farang, who ends up spurting his slimy sperm in her mouth. Worse, some farangs want the BJ chick to swallow their icky goo, like it’s a yummy treat.

Although she has just showered, Ploy has a slight body odor from sweating in my stifling hot room. I keep pumping away on top of Ploy, who’s squirming and seems turned on by the fucking. But she’s here for my pleasure – not hers.

I finish in doggie prone bone, with her legs together, and me humping her like a crazed rabid dog.

Afterwards, Ploy goes back to the shower and I get 1,000 baht from my wallet.

 When she returns, I ask her again, “You said your motosai driver was your Peechai. What does that mean, Peechai?”

Ploy explains, “My mother have him. Number one. Then she have me, number two.”

I finally understand. “Oh, Peechai is your brother,” I say.

“Yes, brother,” Ploy says slowly, as if she didn’t know what “brother” meant.

Well OK, then. Today I learned something new.

I say goodbye to Ploy at my door, and tell her to press the buzzer on the hallway door to exit.

Well, that was a waste of 1,000 baht. But I tell myself that I had at least done a noble thing, and made merit.

I had helped out a poor Thai family during this coronavirus crisis with my generous donation. All I requested in return was a brief pussy fling with the young mama.

The next night, at about 10 pm, I’m startled by a LINE message beep from my phone.

It’s a one-word message from Ploy:

“Hi.”

I don’t reply.

Sorry babe, but this old butterfly farang needs fresh young Thai meat.

Ploy messages me for the third night in a row, and I take pity on her. I decide to be bluntly honest.

With a heavy heart, I block Ploy’s LINE.

I have to. I need to think of my own survival.

What a blessing it is! To be spending my twilight years in tangled hedonistic bliss in Pattaya.

In this heavenly realm, so many young chicks are begging me to fuck them!

And the dream continues . . .