Thailand

Thailand, beautiful Thailand, was a cornucopia of sex; straight sex, gay sex, it didn’t matter; it was all available. The Thai, a gentle, friendly, beautiful, people, whether male or female, were attentive lovers. In three trips to Thailand, I had dined from this horn of plenty, sampling from all it had to offer, with little concern for the sex of my partner.

During my first trip to exotic Thailand I placed myself in the hands of a taxi driver I met at the airport. He took me to the Majestic Palace hotel; after I checked in, he and I walked to a nearby building where we were met by the madam of the house. After negotiating a price for a woman for the next three days-I was told that, if I didn’t like the one I picked, I could return her for another-almost fifty lovelies were paraded before me; choosing was difficult-but I managed. I’ve forgotten her name, but I still have pictures of her.

With the taxi driver, we toured Bangkok: the river market, the King’s palace, Buddhist temples, kickboxing demonstrations, and other tourist attractions. When we returned to my hotel, I was ready for sex. First, she made me bathe . I returned her the next day for another, not because she displeased me-she was better than the second-but because I could.

In the lobby of my hotel there was a travel agency run by a woman in her thirties. It was obvious that she found me interesting, and under other circumstances, in another place, it might have been a mutual attraction, but there were too many younger, more beautiful, women available in Thailand. One girl, about twenty-four years-old, who worked for her, was beautiful. Her name was Anchalee.

Thais have long names-almost unpronounceable to us, but use short nicknames. Anchalee, at three syllables, was unusually long for a nickname; most were one syllable. It may have been her actual name; it was the only one I ever knew.

About 5’5” tall, with brown hair to her waist, she appeared more Chinese than Thai, but, her oval face and prominent cheekbones brought to my mind the image of an American Indian princess. She was friendly to me, but, at the time, didn’t express any undue interest; her boss, who we’ll call, Doe, already had.

With Doe’s travel agency, I arranged for a trip to Pattaya, which is on the ocean, a two hour bus ride south of Bangkok.

I loved Pattaya. The beaches, the ocean, the weather, the restaurants, the bars-many open to the street-the nightclubs, were excellent; the people were friendly. I stopped at a stand for a beer and something to eat. There was a girl working there that I found attractive, and noticing my interest, the old lady who ran the stand offered her to me for the night-at a price, of course. I took her to my room at the hotel, but she seemed more interested in sleeping than in sex. At the time I hadn’t yet realized that in Thailand, one gets better results treating prostitutes more as girlfriends than as whores. Leaving her lying on my bed, I went back to town. I sat down next to a girl in a bar, talked to her for a while, then invited her back to my hotel. Since I already had a girl in my room, I rented another.

The clerk said, “One guy, two rooms...hmm,” and smiled.

We fucked. She was hot. I didn’t want to leave, but I had to check on the girl in my other room. She was awake when I entered, but could speak no English. I don’t know if she asked where I’d been, but, now, she wanted to fuck. I had to oblige, besides, I’d already paid for it.

When I went back to the other room, Mai, the second girl that I’d picked up that night, was angry.

“You’ve been with another girl,” she said.

“I told you before we came that I had another girl here, but that I wanted you anyway,” I replied.

She threatened to cut off my cock with a pair of scissors which she had in her purse, but didn’t realize that I found the prospect of her cutting off my cock more exciting than threatening. It was why I’d come to Thailand. I had an appointment at a sex change clinic in Bangkok for a penectomy. Even before puberty I had fantasized about having my penis cut off. That fantasy had persisted throughout my adolescence and my adult life. It had become an obsession. I couldn’t have explained why I wanted my cock removed. I didn’t hate it, and I enjoyed sex. It wasn’t that I wanted to become a woman. I was happy being a man, even wanted to keep my balls. Somehow, the idea of keeping my balls, maintaining my sex drive, but having no cock with which to express that drive, excited me-but before I lost my cock, I wanted to have one last bacchanal of sex. Knowing that it would be the last, added to its poignancy.

I decided to keep Mai for the rest of the time I would be in Pattaya, so I took the first girl back to her stand the next morning, but Doe, the lady from the travel agency, showed up at my hotel while Mai was gone. She took me to several tourist attractions and to a lady-boy show, where the performers were men dressed as women. We even rode an elephant. I rode with her back to Bangkok.

I wasn’t interested in Doe. In showing me around Bangkok, she took me to Pat Pong, one of the red-light districts. The next night when she asked me out, I told her that I was going to Pat Pong. When I brought a boy back to the hotel, it was obvious, even to her, that our relationship would go nowhere.

The boy’s name was Nok, which means little bird. He was eighteen. While in Pat Pong I had gone to a taxi driver-asked him to take me somewhere I could meet boys. He took me to a club where, while seated at a table with him and the manager, I viewed the merchandise-the boys. Nok, dressed in a white dress, with lipstick and other makeup, caught my eye.

I thought, “At least people will have to look twice to see whether I’m with a girl or with a guy.”

I took Nok back to the hotel. After undressing we crawled into bed. I liked the feel of his young body. His hard cock, although shorter than mine, was thicker. I licked the head of his cock, then took it into my mouth-into my throat-pumped it until he came, until his hot cum shot down my throat. I love the taste of a hot boy’s cum.

After I swallowed his cum, he asked me what I wanted him to do for me.

I said, “The same thing will be O.K., I guess,” but he indicated that he wanted me to fuck him.

Raising his legs, I inserted my penis into his ass-fucked him until I came. Wanting more of him, I negotiated for several days of his company in Pattaya, when I took him home the next day. After arranging for the trip at Doe’s travel agency, Nok and I left for Pattaya that night.

We had a good time in Pattaya: went swimming, rode a rented water scooter, went to shows, either walking or riding a rented motorcycle. And, we fucked. He never sucked me, but I sucked him. We took turns fucking each other. His thick cock caused me some pain as well as pleasure. On the second day we were in Pattaya, I took a turn too fast on the motorcycle. He was riding on the back. In jamming my right leg to the road to keep from falling, I broke my knee. The next day I had to go to the hospital to have my leg put in a cast. After staying one more day in Pattaya, we returned to Bangkok.

While back in Bangkok, at the Majestic Palace, Anchalee and I became more friendly. She told me that she had an English boyfriend who came to see her frequently. She asked me to take some pictures to send him. I’m looking at some of those pictures while I write this. We went to dinner.

She said, “You had a lady-boy (their term for a gay boy) in your room, didn’t you.”

I replied, “Yeah, being in Thailand, I wanted to try everything.”

She seemed to understand. She invited me to a party at a girlfriend’s house. As the only American, I was the hit of the party. On a return trip to the house, her girlfriend read my horoscope. She asked me if one of my parents was ill. I told her that my mother had cancer several years before, but, as far as I knew, had recovered. She said that one of my parents would die after the first of the next year. Although there were things that she seemed reluctant to tell me, she told me that I would get whatever I wanted until my next birthday, then everything would go to hell.

I didn’t have the penectomy. I blamed it on the broken knee, but the sex had been so enjoyable-and I liked Anchalee-that I wasn’t ready to give up my cock.

After I returned home, I learned that my father was ill. He had cirrhosis of the liver.

After my knee healed, I returned to Thailand. This time I stayed in a hotel next door to the Majestic Palace. For an excuse I used some cock roaches that I’d seen in my room at the Majestic Palace, but the real reason was that I didn’t want Anchalee to know who my sex partners were. She was at lunch when I went to the travel agency so I went looking for her. I found her at a table at a sidewalk restaurant a block from the hotel. She was surprised, and, I could see, pleased to see me. We saw each other frequently, but were always chaperoned. I went to see Nok.

Nok wasn’t there that night. Although I said that I wanted to wait for him, they led me to believe that he wouldn’t be back for days. I choose Mack instead. Mack and I went to Pattaya.

Although I had liked Nok-we had even corresponded by mail-I liked Mack more, even though Mack would never cum when I sucked him. He was much more feminine than Nok. He said that he came when I fucked him, but that he ejaculated into his bladder. Mack told me that a doctor told him it was possible. We spent several days in Pattaya, then went to Chiang Mai, a city north of Bangkok. When we returned to Bangkok, Mack visited me at my hotel. I no longer had to pay.

I took another trip to Pattaya by myself. There I met another girl and Ann (pronounced Ahn). Ann was a boy. I met him outside the door of one of the nightclubs in Pattaya. He was seventeen or eighteen. He stayed with me for several days at my hotel. Ann had a small cock, no more than four inches. The image of cum shooting from his cock as he masturbated while I fucked him is yet imprinted on my mind. I gave him money, but he never asked me for any. When he saw me in the club with the girl, he cried.

Another boy, who had seen me in the club with Ann, picked me up one day. We went back to my hotel. We fucked several times; he would have continued, if I’d let him, but I’d had enough.

Although-or because-Anchalee showed interest in me, but would never make love to me-we had never even kissed- I was enchanted by her. Other than the girl in Pattaya, all my sex had been with boys this trip. I returned to the States without making an appointment for a penectomy.

Within a couple of months, I was back in Bangkok. I was again staying at the hotel next to the Majestic Palace. I had intended to see Mack again, but never got around to it. Anchalee and I went out almost every night-just the two of us. Anchalee, although our relationship was getting hotter with every date, still hadn’t gone to bed with me. Anchalee made me so horny. One night, at a club, Anchalee and I got so hot that we were dry humping in our booth Luckily, Pah who I had met in Soi Cowboy, another red-light district, was waiting for me each night at my hotel when I got home from being out with Anchalee. Otherwise, I would been masturbating.

Pah was half Vietnamese. She was great. Other than Anchalee, she was the best of all the women that I had met in Thailand. She had to like me, to patiently wait for me each night, even though she knew I was out with another woman.

My last night in Thailand arrived. Anchalee had plans for that night. She drove me to a hotel, one where the rooms were rented by the hour, not the night. Working at a travel agency, she knew of such places. We never entered a lobby, but drove into a garage, then entered the room from the garage. A bellboy brought us drinks and took my money for the room. The ceiling of the room was mirrored.

Anchalee lay on the waterbed, her long brown hair hanging down across her shoulder, partially covering one of her bare breasts. To this day, the image of her lying there takes my breath away. We made love twice. I was forty-five years old. I had been having sex every night with Pah. It was all I could do; still, because of my feelings for Anchalee, it was the best I’d ever had.

When we finished, I said, “Anchalee, now you have to marry me.”

“I can’t, John. I’ve already given my word that I would marry my boyfriend from England. He’s already talked to my father. It’s a matter of honor, of saving face. I couldn’t back out now. He’ll be here next week. We’re to be married then.”

No matter how much I pleaded, she didn’t waver. She was determined to marry him. Instead of leaving Thailand, I made an appointment for the penectomy.

After three weeks, I was still sore, but I was ready for the trip back to the States. They had removed my entire cock, re-routing my urethra so that it exited between my balls and my anus. They charged extra for having to work around my balls, since I was keeping them.

Although, I didn’t expect Anchalee to be there-if she had married, she would be in England-I went to the travel agency. I had to at least see the place where I’d seen her so often. She was there, sitting where she always sat.

“John, I’ve been calling you at home in the USA, but there was no answer. I’ve written you every day. Did you get my letters? I called and wrote to tell you that I’d changed my mind, that I couldn’t go through with my marriage to Raymond. I called off the wedding. I want to marry you instead.”

I thought of my horoscope, the one done by her girlfriend. The penectomy had been done on my birthday. I had gotten everything I wanted by then, Anchalee, the penectomy. It was now after my birthday.

“No, Anchalee,” I said, “I haven’t been home. I had a...a accident. It was such that I can’t ever be a husband to you, now.”

I don’t know whether she believed me about the accident, or not. I returned to the States. I’ve never been back to Thailand-never seen, nor heard from Anchalee. I often wondered what my life would have been like if I’d waited-if I had married Anchalee.

My father died in January.