KenW in Phnom Penh #3

[KenW]

no sooner hit the pervment then i was giving it's eyes legs bum scrutiny. Went to meet Barney Rubble and his uld mate suckit669 we couldn't resist some news thereve heard about this new bar of 6 street called 101 dalmshions so we went in and there believe it or not was Viola phnom penhs only rissian speaking ladyboy she had got all done up and was bearing new bolton's the beast was all up for a growl. so I short time her and then she calls up her froind whos name I think was Spank not sure anyhow barney gives her one and then we change over wwith suckit rtaking his tern to.

by the time id shagged both of them i was ready for more beersw so we went along the drag to see what was about and then Barney said he needed a haricut so we waited at this slaon where theyes a ladyboy not cutting but taking the money and giving us big growly smiles and thank you sir's. we said is there any room out the back or anything she said no becasue it was ilegal but she said we could to short time hotel across the street were they hire out rooms to girls so we go there and its shagging her all three of us and by then we can only retreat to cane chairs on the river and sit and laugh at our sucess for suvh early evening then barney provceeds to get completely hammered and the last thing i remember is going back to the hotel and.

Nah, none of this happened. I'm just kidding. I made it all up because it's about time this tiresome thread started to sound like a Trip Report.

All names fictitious to protect the guilty.

[pdogg]

I getting the flavor of your PP experience loud and clear Ken! PP is not Pattaya. It lends it self to slower more relaxed pace well suited to inexpensive drafts and Italian dinners.

Just a note about the Golden House, it is significantly nicer than the cheaper joints I've stayed in such as Indochine II and Paragon. They also have bigger rooms than the one Ken's in.

If you are on a short holiday, and not on a tight budget, it is in excellent choice if you like to be in the thick of things.

[bumblebee]

I am sure by the time your TR arrives in Patts there will be plenty of salacious tales to regal the reader with Ken.

[KenW]

Not so sure now bb.

Going home to Saigon to lick my wounds.

As though on the sloop John B, this is the worst trip I've ever been on.

[dixon cox]

... this is the worst trip I've ever been on.

It was nice meeting you too.

[KenW]

It was nice meeting you too.

Ah dixon, you of all people know what I mean.

Seeya this afternoon.

[SiamSam]

Not so sure now bb.

Going home to Saigon to lick my wounds.

As though on the sloop John B, this is the worst trip I've ever been on.

Sorry to hear that Mr. Ken.

[KenW]

Ah, Tiara, you are such a sweetie, a human lifeline.

[KenW]

After a week of being bookended between Honey and The Human ATM, I feel a tad freer lighter released.

Yesterday following a noodle soup brekkie I sauntered down 19St to get a haircut from the femboys in The Best Haircut.

The lad who did me (o I wish) was so dark, with huge beestungs and fake straw hair atop a 35 kg body. I didn't dare ask for a photo.

Barbershop cost: 5,000 R (USD 1.25).

Came away (ha!) feeling far less weighed down by the world.

[pdogg]

Ah, Tiara, you are such a sweetie, a human lifeline.

Have never heard anyone mutter a bad word about sweet Tiara!

[KenW]

Have never heard anyone mutter a bad word about sweet Tiara!

Indeed my friend. A real live warm gentle fun concerned caring human being with blood pumping through her veins. Nice to have onesuch in one's room, in one's arms, in one's bed, and at nanometre distance skin to skin too.

[bumblebee]

Sorry to hear you trip wasn't the best ken, the Best Haircut. brought back some memories all the same.

[KenW]

Imagine a small ball bearing in an eggcup.

Taken in hand, with rocking motions only allowed (ie no violent throwing or flicking), for most gentle tips of the cup, the steeley will rock & roll about inside the cup. Only with a fairly serious tip will it drop out onto the table or floor. Keeping your hand still, or setting the cup down on the table will see the rollicking ball eventually settle down and remain still at the bottom of the cup.

This is a model of one kind of stable system. That is, it is a system (ball plus cup plus motion) which remains fairly stable under most reasonable conditions. It takes a build up of motion to tip the ball out of the cup altogether, creating an instability from which the system cannot recover (ie the ball will not, defying the laws of physics, simply roll itself back up off the table, over the rim of the cup, inside once again).

I slipped on this trip into a stable setup, somewhat of my own making, but more largely the making of a local LB. I met her on an earlier visit to the capital and we had remained in email contact since that time. Knowing my arrival was imminent, she wrote assuring me of all sorts of wonderful things that were going to happen between us during my visit (physical things, romantic things). Tingling dick accompanied me on the bus trip over. Hugs and whoopies and cuddles greeted my arrival.

The LB and I fell into a stable situation in my hotel room. Even though my ball bearing (or is that balls bearing?) was being upset in the eggcup, it didn't tip out, despite going precariously close a few times. A week passed.

The first two days said LB hung out with me, sleeping in my bed (sans sex: Honey I'm tired; Honey, I'm very young) then lingering with me till lunchtime so I could have hourly lectures on how she needed an iphone, an ipad, a laptop, a bank account (this last I had suggested on the previous visit, so wasn't phased by it).

Look Baby, I tried to tell her, a relationship will only work (stay stable) under certain conditions. If I'm to buy you things (transfer largesse from my system to yours) it seems only fair that certain things are transferred in return from your system to mine. I gave obvious examples. Don't sleep on the far edge of the bed facing away from me; let me hold your cock; let me suck it; suck mine if you like; let me fuck you.

Honey, I'm tired. Honey, my English not good (I never figured what that had to do with it). Honey, I'm young (she claims to be 22).

OK, have it your way. But I'm not forking out for anything until you begin to act like a living human being rather than a cold inert bloodless slug.(I put all this in simple Khmerlish, words she could understand.)

Huff, I think is the word to describe the response.

[KenW]

The daily morningly nightly (she was never with me in the afternoon) whining whingeing croke lectures began to render the system unstable.

I realize now I should have merely bought her something and told her politely to get thee hence. But I didn't. I had already invested a lot (emotionally, financially) in this system and wanted to see if it could be made to work. I kept telling myself: walk in her shoes.

What is like for her stuck in a bed with an ugly old fart whose bad breath she abhors (I don't have bad breath by the way, despite her claims) and whose potentially ugly bad breadth she feared. Any erectile contact with said cold back on far side of bed was rebuffed by hand and bath towel placed between offending appendage and arctic skin.

Being gentle and walking the system about the eggcup of understanding and patience, I bought the desired iphone. Hug and whoopie once more.

Now she had no need to remain with me till lunchtime: off shopping visiting makeupping she went.

So the system settled down again. Sack of ice in the bed till 9 am. Toilettte. Depart. Call me 7 pm or so, join me briefly wherever I was eating or drinking, politely, smiling at Mr dixon cox. Back to hotel, television and new shiny iphone on, me falling into drunken sighing stupor after first three or four attempts to kiss (turn cheek then other cheek), muzzle (Honey, your ---- she didn't know word for whiskers), hold cock (wrap my wrist in tiny cold mitt and push it back on my side).

A system stable but rollicking a bit, like a ship being battered by a stormy sea.

[KenW]

The bank account was opened.

As I said above, I had no regrets about that as originally it was my idea. What shocked me was the opening balance required. Last time I opened a bank account, back in the Pleistocene, I think from very blurred memory is was a 50 bucks minimum opening balance required. The mob we went with in Phnom Penh: 500 USD minimum.

I know this wasn't a stitch up, for she brought the bank's brochures (in English) back to the hotel for me to read. I paid.

No hug and whoopee this time, but smiles of pleased-with-herself style.

So that night I laid the palm on the old shaft once more. Bing! Rejection.

An account has just been opened, however my genital account seemed well and truly closed.

Then the cold arrogant disdain emerged. She pretty much every second day woke with a hard on. Nice. Had been letting me play for 10 minutes or so. But now, that was a no go zone. A patch of zero tolerance.

Instead she would lay there on her back, the entire cock covered from sight within the closed fist of her polar paw, and get herself there, communicating with crystal clarity that she had no need for me whatsoever. Then hibernation would resume. Rolled over on tummy at bed's edge. Bracing against tundra temperatures I would get up and open my keyboard.

The saddest trip I had experienced had now become a new stable system. My original balls bearing could bear it no more. The eggcup had tipped over and the contents spilled onto the tiles.

Anger did not enter into it. Whenever I would complain the answer was: Honey, you angry me. But as I told her boringly repeatedly. I am not angry. I am just very unhappy. My self esteem took a hit, knowing such barbed gold digging disregard was the new stable state of affairs. Perhaps it had been all along, only I too thick to see it.

I sighed a lot and began to annoy Mr dixon cox. (However she annoyed him a lot more than I did.)

What to do? (Answer is obvious really isn't it...)

[KenW]

Sounding the wise and expert counsellor, Mr dixon cox advised the following.

Do this.

Then do that.

Say this.

Put this there.

Take that this way.

Do this.

Then do that.

Do not do such & such. Not one.

Say goodbye.

I carried it out to the letter, except for one thing (I didn't change hotels).

Looking down at my bearing up balls, my toppled eggcup, I felt like going home to Saigon, whimpering all the while.

But fortunately a new stable state was already settling into place. Ken, this is Tiara. Tiara, Ken. [Mr dixon cox introducing.]

[KenW]

Tiara is:

affable

big

cute

delightful

easy

friendly

good looking

happy

interesting

jocular

kittenly

lollypoppy

meaty

natural

open

pretty

quenching

ready

sensible

teasing

up

vivacious

well groomed

xiting

yummy

zingy.

All that ABC and more. When she left my room next morning, my spirits were up, my wounds bathed, my mood lightened. I had been party to some real human warmth, with a live pulsating person making jolly at my side the whole night, talking to me, caring for me, allowing me to touch play do whatever my lil ol hands and other parts desired to do.

Thanks Baby, you helped so much.

[DownLoLarry]

Tiara is:

a lovely ladyboy!

That's quite a glowing endorsement from Ken.

So you want to meet her?

All her contact info is on Ladyboy Review!

http://www.ladyboyre.../profile/Tiara/

[KenW]

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, speeding faster than Superman, akin to the silver bullet everybody with something apparent to hide says Lee Harvey Oswald never fired, the little ball bearing, glowing like a gleaming eyed party boy, shining like a big fat moon, defies the laws of physics, rolls itself somehow back up onto the table, rights the eggcup, and hey presto, we have magically, slight of handedly, got ourselves a newfound stable system.

Both Tiara and I knew it was only a one night stand. And both seemed content with that. We'll meet again, she's that kind of LB. But for now, other forces were gathering, like storm clouds on the horizon, but friendly interesting engaging storm clouds, about to bear rain that would in turn rapidly produce fruit. Then like Adam in the garden, we - dixon and I - would stand hapless, in thrall as if to two cute little dame avec merci.

When I was at university the best parties were always those unplanned, that just seemed to happen. Grow out of nowhere. Same with sessions in the boozer between or after lectures. The grand ones that turned into folklore invariably consumed those involved with less than 15 minutes notice they were about to happen. Storm warning.

So there we were chatting with 3 LBs initially, until one wandered away. They had appeared as if out of nowhere. Then the balls bearing up rolled into their little hollows and all seemed right with the world.

We chatted. We fondled. We kissed. We held hands like overgrown pubescents (she and I that is, not dixon and I).

It rained. The clouds broke in our favour however, chasing away the annoying boys on bicycles and the guys playing soccer with a plastic ball. It was if we had the world to ourselves, us four, dixon and I, and these two excessively cute LBs.

After much more chat, we decided to adjourn. A Thursday evening, quiet town. A 40metre walk produced a bar, not a girlie bar, just an ordinary looking drinkery, sans custom. Shall we? Ought we?

Yes, yes, yes, yes.

There was a lad at a kind of mix between reception and a bar. He ushered us through to a back room, where there were biggish booths with low walls between, each booth raised maybe half a metre above the tiles, and covered in Middle Eastern fashion, with cushions. That'll do.

A menu appeared and we ordered margaritas all round.

More cuddles, kisses. We were hidden by a discreet structure, from both the bar and the street. And as no other patrons seemed to want to appear, things began to get a little risque.

Eventually we called it a night, offered a tad of financial assistance to our new acquaintances, bid them farewell, and wandered off to old men's earlyish beds (though it was nearly 2 am).

In the room, before I passed out, a voice hovered above me, whispering in my ear: the ball bearing is back where it should be, at the bottom of the cup. A counterpoint growl admonished me: you dickhead, why didn't you do this a week ago?

Then all went black.

[KenW]

Two hotel room sessions with the little cheeky minx. She's alright. Gorgeous dark 35kg body. And, what's more, affectionate, loving and a cute sensayuma.

Don't know whether there'll be anymore as I go home on the early bus tomorrow.

[KenW]

While on this trip I have been reading a very interesting book, one that would be informative for many of you Thai addicts out there. It's called:

Corruption & Democracy in Thailand. By Pasuk Phongpaichit & Sungsidh Piriyarangsan.

Started it a couple of days into the sojourn and have just finished it now on my final afternoon. Perfect timing.

Professor Pasuk is Thailand's most distinguished economist. She and her colleague both work in the Economics Faculty at Chulalongkorn University, BKK.

Documentary evidence shows the degree to which Prime Ministers and other key political players have skimmed wealth from both the public purse and private enterprise (by way of commissions). Many of these figures have ancestry in criminal activities in the provinces, where gang warfare has been a common part of local culture. Most of these power brokers have Chinese origins, began as small traders, are often poorly educated, but end up controlling many businesses approved by law (e.g. logging) and many not (drugs, prostitution, gambling).

Various public arms are shown to have mud sticking to them, especially the police. This last group form a special case study by the researchers.

The book ends with a swag of suggestions for reform, institutions and laws that need to be put in place, as well as public education programs.

I know Vietnam is bad, but this excellent study shows Thailand to be rotten to the core. While it gleams as a shining strong ASEAN economy of rapid growth, the place, as no doubt many of you know, is virtually a basket case of filthy wealth and power abuse. I found it a highly informative read.

[pacman]

I realize now I should have merely bought her something and told her politely to get thee hence. But I didn't. I had already invested a lot (emotionally, financially) in this system and wanted to see if it could be made to work.

Ken, you deserve our thanks for your candor. Your story is a familiar one. Many guys have experienced the same thing but not many have expressed their frustration so eloquently.

We know what we should do in these situations but we are all still 21 in our minds. But the reality is, we aren't. And eventually this illusion is going to be shown for what it is, an illusion. While we have the sense to know that we are paying for a GFE, our ego gets taken along for the ride. And it hurts when it gets smashed by some pretty young thing from the village who exploits our desire for sex by demands for toys & cash. And just to rub it in, she offers nothing in return.

I think I speak for many when I say your idea in the above quote is exactly what you should have done but I also sympathise with you for holding onto the dream of eternal desirability. Sorry old mate but time waits for no man. And game-players like your "friend" deserve to be kicked to the curb at the first indication she is only there for what she can get. She had you well & truly hooked but she has taught you a handy lesson.

I can't think of a better FM to have on hand for counselling than the redoubtable Dixon Cox. And he has delivered in spades. The best cure for falling off a horse is to get right back on. In this case, literally. It was the best outcome & the change in your mood from one post to the next stands as testament to the power of mutually welcomed sex to put lead in our pencil & a spring in our step.

No more presents to ingrates Ken, from now on you should look for the girls who will show you some respect. Because without that, all the sex in the world is just an exercise in emptying your balls without thought or meaning. Not that there's anything wrong with that occasionally but no man can live with constant rejection.

[KenW]

Wise words pacman, thanks.

[KenW]

For Sam:

The man still has his helicopters. No longer is the big one on display in the foyer. But these two adorn the wall of the outside balcony.

One Sunday morning I emerged, ready to take on the world and its incessant calls of tuk tuk sir tuk tuk sir, to see the man and two others, one I judge by looks to be his brother, seated on arses on balcony tiles, tinkering with the left hand aircraft, like three harmless little boys. I wasn't game to take a pic. As they were in serious conversation I merely strode down the stairs to the waiting throng below.

[KenW]

Something I had completely forgotten to mention earlier.

The last 4 days or so of my trip, I ran into Lisa, a - shall we say - quite well known PP LB.

The first afternoon, I was wandering up the riverside headed for my evening drinkies, when I spot this tall divine creature walking towards me in company with a shorter guy, greying hair, glasses, dressed casually. She is dressed as if to head to midnight ball or after-ball party, decked out to the nines in a long black gown with a little brown cleavage hinting at those perfect dark titlets of hers.

As they draw closer to me, about 5 metres away I see her lips mouth the words "My friend" as she points at me. Then my brain bursts open as I realise who it is. At walking pace there isn't much time to take it all in. I offer a stammering: hi, how are you?

A glance at the beau says he is not happy. A surly face fails to greet me, his bottom lip protruding.

The following afternoon I am sat back in one of the cane chairs at Mekong River bar when who should arrive but our couple. They occupy a table next but one to mine. They eat ice cream, have one drink each, share a plate of noodles of some sort, then depart after about 40 minutes or so. But. At one point he goes to the gents. She, who has been smiling at me to the point where I refuse to make eye contact with her, calls out to me. I can't hear and let her know. She repeats, louder: would I like her to call Lily (another LB I have spent time with in the past).

No, I say, only one me, only one me.

His return prevents any further interaction, thank goodness.

The next day is quite similar. They again sit at the bar, have one drink, eat. This time she ignores me, thankfully. They walk off across the drag onto the strand, holding hands.

Finally, on my last afternoon, she is there again, but with a GG accomplice. Again she takes no notice of me.

The news to report is that she still looks the money. Beautiful face, fantastic body. And, even more importantly, she seemed calm and quite happy with Mr Surly. Far from that crazy creature Soc999 reported having a dire time with last June (see his thread in the Cambodia section).

Anyhow, just thought I'd mention it, for to several FMs here she is a familiar. I hope things go as well for her as they seem to have been doing.