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KenW in Phnom Penh


KenW

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I am booked on the morning bus from Saigon, where I live, to PP next Monday.

It will be my fourth time in the capital, a city I have enjoyed very much in the past. The bus trip is a bit tedious, taking 7 hours with no breakdowns or other problems. But that includes a stopover at the border which always takes an hour and a half to 2 hours or so. It is however, a good service, costing a mere 10 USD. You buy your visa on the bus, and the shotgun riders aboard take care of the paperwork and passport stamping. At the gates passengers have to dismount and carry luggage through both the VNese and Cambodian sides, then it’s back aboard, up the road to a nosh joint, all linked up with the bus company, before finally setting off again to the big smoke.

I have a room set up at the Golden House hotel on 136 street. I’m really looking forward to being in and exploring that different part of town. In times past I have tended to stay on the Quay and play in the wine bars along there before heading off to Blue Chilli for my night time liaisons. So this time it’s a quite different orientation. But hopefully with similar outcomes, ie some of that dark dark Khmer flesh between my sheets, my belly full of satisfaction.

I’m only there for a week, but that’ll be enough I suspect. I can get some of what I’m hankering for, then move on.

Armed with my brand spanking new Sony cyber shot (cost me about 120 USD here in SG), I will try to create something here that may interest some FMs. I aint no photographer, but have been, like the good boy I am, studiously pouring over Bumblebee’s thread and advice.

So, we’ll see…

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Armed with my brand spanking new Sony cyber shot (cost me about 120 USD here in SG), I will try to create something here that may interest some FMs. I aint no photographer, but have been, like the good boy I am, studiously pouring over Bumblebee’s thread and advice.

So, we’ll see…

I'll be able to give you some practical tips when you get here also lol. Have a safe trip and catch you early next week.

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I really like Phnom Penh. Yes, it is small, has a kind of tourist village feel to it, such that you keep seeing or bumping into lots of folks you’ve already encountered. It is quite tiny too, able to be walked around in reasonable comfort. Coming from Saigon’s teeming millions, densely packed, like North Sea brislings in a seething tin, the place also seems calm to me, or calmer anyhow. The traffic is manageable and the pollution almost unnoticeable.

So there’s my BBC doco introduction.

Hunkered down in 136 street which all say is the centre of action, I look left, look right, walk a little, get my bearings. Having arrived on the bus late afternoon, priorities after a shower and little rest, are beer, food and action in that chronological order. First two are easily taken care of as I sit in a wicker armchair enjoying the breeze off the river, and telling the waitboy he has a beautiful pink shirt. But he’s only polite in reply. OK, try elsewhere.

Walking again, but not far. Within 50m each way from the Golden House hotel, as the gloom turns into serious night time, the old fart pines again to be a honky tonk man. Ah, where are the glows of yesteryear? Gone the way of age. Never mind, this is holidays, and small lights attract me like a moth to flame.

Beneath the lights girls now occupy stools and seats outside the doors of various bars that snuggle against each other, like wood swallows bedding down for the night, all along 136. Hello, hello, please come in. Where have I had heard that before?

My perennial question, following polite greeting: any ladyboy here?

No have. The equally invariant and slightly deflating reply. Sizzlers, 69, 136, Candy, the lot. No have, no have.

I remain optimistic and trudge on. The night is but a pup.

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Down a sidestreet. It should be something of a law to be remembered: when in doubt, go down a sidestreet. A couple of blocks, mostly very local small businesses, eateries, sugar cane factory of some sort, a bar, the only one on the block.

Question.

Answer: have.

They go inside, and return with a plumpish girl, and in the gloom I cannot be sure if they’re winding me up or she’s really a LB. I hae mee doots. (But later, 2 days later in fact, I’ll be shown to be wrong.)

I walk on to the T junction. Opposite are a row of small bars, again a gaggle of girls gathered by their doors. This is 110 street. I approach a joint called BEN ’SBAR [sic].

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Question:

Answer (again): have.

They usher me inside where I am invited to sit at bar table. A group of falang have GGs draped all over them, attending their every whim.

Out from behind the bar comes my assignation. Tall and quite good looking. Name Lily. Biggish, 54 kg, with shoulders like a boy who’s played good teen sport. Polite, attentive, some English, enough to make out. PP Barglish.

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I drink 3 beers while some girls and foreigners play pool, laughing and shrieking. Lily has one girl drink at 3 bucks. Some kind of strong spirit with coke.

I barfine her (10 USD) and we head up the road (110) to satiate my winelust. Out the front of a plush looking French place. Lily of the Fields asks politely: Can I eat?

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Of course my petal. I drink a chilled carafe. She gets more attractive by the sip. She gives me a couple of mouthfuls (ha!) of her delicious fish, fried in white wine. My mind wanders to delicious mouthfuls of another kind. No shrinking violet, she is a lovely girl nonetheless.

We walk. In Ulysses Joyce managed to cram a large proportion of the tiny Dublin of his time. A vast wordmap at play. If anyone ever writes the great PP novel, it will be even easier to accommodate all the streets and the beats and the bars and the cars. Two short blocks and we’re home. Home being where the hard is. Was it really only this morning I left Saigon?

Aircon shower soap her down towel her down and up, gentle kiss, short suck, TV on (her), lights dimmed (me), comfy clean stark white sheets that act as sharp ground for her big black body. Then to follow a night of you know what.

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I walk on to the T junction. Opposite are a row of small bars, again a gaggle of girls gathered by their doors. This is 110 street. I approach a joint called BEN ’SBAR [sic].

Out from behind the bar comes my assignation. Tall and quite good looking. Name Lily. Biggish, 54 kg, with shoulders like a boy who’s played good teen sport. Polite, attentive, some English, enough to make out. PP Barglish.

You hit the ground running! :clapping:

And as all our regular readers know, you do have a way with words Ken!

PP is not the easiest town to find ladyboys so you are doing a good turn for the next guy by sharing the forbidden fruit of your labour.

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A black cock with a glowing red glans revealed by a hood falling back as the thing erects reminds me of the way female baboon rumps swell up bright red when they are in heat. It is said these attract horny males as the babettes bend forward flashing their flushes like card sharks with winning hands. Well, I can assure you a bright red head gets my attention too, sets my lips and tongue moving just like those nethers do for randy male baboons.

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Lily’s dark dick with its striking head to match, got me going no end, or rather, right down to her red end.

Another image. Southeast Asian family shrines often have globes painted red, sticking up out of dark sockets, so when the power is on they glow and flash, in imitation of flames atop a candle stick. Such are these dark Cambodian cocks, ushering me, daring me, divining me, commanding me, to fall at their front, worshipping and praying (or is that preying?) for and on whatever offerings are being made.

Lily wouldn’t let me show you an image of her dick, but perhaps you get the picture.

By way of a compromise let me show you a pic of Lily dressing next morning. This does 3 things; it gives an allowable image of her; shows her body proportions including those swimmer’s shoulders; and lets you see a Golden House hotel room.

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Then the main task of the day was to call and meet Bumblebee. This done we adjourned to an eatery via the speed walking tour he takes you on wherever he goes. I figured the exercise would either help me lose some of my ugly belly fat, or it would kill me. One or the other.

The rest of the day will be spent at Isaana Mart on 136 where Bb, PDogg and others like to gather for drinkies and chat, and at an Indian eatery on the Quay.

O, and to call by Ben’s to barfine the big gal again.

There’s my Lily. If my rave about red qualifies me for the role of Jack of Hearts, all we need now for our play is a Rosemary. That would be my next task.

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Poor Bumblebee had an early start teaching, so needed an equally early night. I bade him farewell and went to collect Her Bigness from Ben’s.

There we are walking back to the hotel. And what should befall us but another big loud talking gorgeous LB all full of limp wrist greetings and guttural guffaws. Earlier, at Isaana, while quietly drinking a few beers waiting for Bb to finish his evening class, I had seen this large good looking heffalump, thrashing about, walking up and down, clowning around with the GGs and the tuk tuk drivers. So full of life was she I had no chance of catching her eye or her anything else. Now, several hours later, here she is standing before me, being introduced by Lily.

Hello, was the first thing she said in English. (They had been blabbering in Khmer.)

The second thing she said in English was: threesome?

I had found my Rosemary.

Lily, Rosemary & the Jack of Hearts swan off down the drag.

Then Lily took her dress off

Bandied it away

No longer has your luck run out, she laughed at him

I guess ya musta known it would turn someday…

[apologies to Mr Zimmermann]

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Yes, Dear FMs, from where I sit adjacent my bedsheets, it appears for the moment my luck is in. Hubris go away. My Rosemary’s name is Lisa, and she is gorgeous (subjective judgment). Better looking than Lily, 55 kg, with the most perfect chocolate coloured titlets and jet black nipples. Cleavage on show. Her pure black prick, about the same size as Lily’s, stands straighter and growing, glows redder. She street walks and freelances, mainly in 136 street. Surprisingly, like Lily, she is quite shy in the room and the bed.

The following day is spent lounging around the room and being seen in expensive eateries (their choices). Here we are lunching in a joint on the Quay with shit food. Lots of nudge nudge wink wink from fellow patrons playing spot the ladyboy with their chums.

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Later I would ask Bumblebee: does it get any better?

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Later I would ask Bumblebee: does it get any better?

Probably the best night in Cambo is the night the lads came down from PP to Snooky and partied like rock stars on the pier and in the fine tradition of rockers got kicked outa their hotel.

Threesome, your the man Ken as many guys have trouble finding just one in PP! :clapping::clapping:

That last restaurant, yes the food is shite but it has a couple of good things going for it other than your two lovelies.

It has a $2.75 all u can eat brekkie, with unlimited cups of coffee. And from noon to midnite draft beer is only 75 cents. So when BB and I want to splurge beyond the 65 cent Anchors at Issana we'd hang at the place in your pic on the river.

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Really enjoying your writing style and pics around PP thank's KenW.

No disrespect but the first thing I thought of when I saw Lily's shoulders in the room shot was of an Olympic swimmer.

The mentioning of Blood on the Tracks certainly brought back a few memories.

What's your opinion of your lodgings?

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Thats more like it, KenW! 'spose there's no chance of a movie about that night of carnal bliss?

I quite fancy the lissome Lisa lass but Ilsa Konrads, hmmm. Well she does have a handsome face.

Great reportage from Kendubbya on P4P in PP. Stay on that roll, its dreary back here in workland.

:give_rose:

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Really enjoying your writing style and pics around PP.

No disrespect but the first thing I thought of when I saw Lily's shoulders in the room shot was of an Olympic swimmer.

What's your opinion of your lodgings?

Thanks jimmy. Yes, as I said in the post, they certainly are swimmer's shoulders alright.

Lodgings are OK. Staff are excellent, as is security. Bed comfy. Shower and conveniences modern & clean. Wifi in room problem free. Front desk manager is superbly helpful young mother with top English and brains. One small problem is paying 30 USD/night, for I have stayed in many a place exactly the same for 20 or so. Never mind, it is location location. And, importantly, LB friendly.

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Moaner Lisa, Moaner Lisa

Men have named you;

You’re so like the mystic lady with the smile;

Do you smile to tempt a lover Moaner Lisa

Or is this your way to hide a giant hard?

Are you real, are you warm, Moaner Lisa

Or just a cold & lonely lovely work of art?

Judge for yourself Dear Reader:

Lisa on her working beat, standing outside Sizzlers Bar on this occasion. (Excuse the poor pic of a learner.)

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Lisa pensively entertaining me at Isana Mart.

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I get a call from Bumblebee informing me he is about to eat a late lunch at a joint on the corner of 19 and 172 streets, called, I think, Leafage. I announce this. We go we three.

The walk takes perhaps 10 minutes. I am pleasantly surprised to see them say hello and more to about 10 guys we encounter on foot and in tuk tuks. Customer, I ask each time. He come bar me, Lily replies enigmatically each time about hers. Lisa doesn't deign to answer in regard to her caterwauling.

Who friend I, asks Lisa. (ie my friend that we're going to meet at Leafage.) I tell her. I know (him), she slyly informs us. We ensconce and they order expensive drinks. Sure enough, as Mr B. Bee comes striding down the road at the speed of a moving locomotive, she shrieks with glee, and as he finds a seat at our table she is all over him like a rash. Friend me, friend me. Ah, the sheer joy of it all.

Then, while all this Lisa fascination is going on, let’s not forget Lily of the Fields.

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Alas the flash is not a friend of Lisa when she is wearing her war paint. She is a looker for sure, but like many LBs she hides it beneath a wall of chalk. Here is how she can look in the morning au natural. (Ironically she would probably hate this photo because "not wearing make up, not beautiful") go figure. :lol:

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And then it happened.

Bumblebee is doing a thread called A Night at the Rainbow Cabaret, which needs to be prerequisite reading – and its images absorbed - as background for this bit. I have been there with him Thursday and Friday evenings (I write this on Saturday morning). I’m told we’re going again tonight too.

I don’t regret one moment of what has taken place thus far in this short hollie day trip to PP. The whole Lily Lisa triumvirate explorative adventure has been so well worth it. Lily the physically big but politely diminutive one. Lisa the big lummox, well meaning but galumphing about like a jabberwock in a crystal collection. She seems to attract and dispense filth with a frenzied zeal, accumulating black shit beneath her fingernails, creating snowmounds of wrinkled stained tissues and paper towelettes, knocking over drinks, standing on your foot, creating a Hansel & Gretel trail of grubby footprints across the hotel room tiles, leaving used towels and half used soap all over the room.

O sorry sorry. It’s OK Lisa, it’s OK.

All good fun from a pretty decent pair of kids (Lily aged 22, Lisa 21).

However, said adventure has left me exhausted and showing my age. In Bumblebee’s Boot Camp, where we do our daily forced marches of ferocious speed walking up and down the uneven footpaths of city blocks, he turns his head wondering where I am, why aren’t I keeping up. Last evening at the Rainbow Cab while amateur hour was raging in front of us I almost fell asleep.

I hasten to add by way of digression: Bumblebee has been a fantastic companion in all of this. He has not only been tutoring a poor quality pupil in the nuances of photography, but he has been a fount of info about the city as well, the bars and the hangouts, the LBs, most of whom he knows by name.

But as I said in opening: then it happened.

My attention was grabbed and any danger of falling asleep dispelled by one of the performers. I found this particular LB at that distance and in full theatrical garb, vastly attractive. If you go to Bb’s thread, look at his most recent post (#13) and scroll down the pix, counting as you go, then pause over images 8 and 9. (For example)

As the show ends and many of the stars bolt, four or five hang about outside talking laughing deciding as if a happening is to follow. Bb and I hotfoot it out to join them. Where you go now, I ask in my best PP Barglish. Bb tells me he knows where they go to eat after the shows.

As if imitating Major --- de Coverley, one LB answers me: go eat.

I go with you, we go with you, I assert.

Where, one asks in reply.

I follow you, I keep saying, as my image number 8 & 9 joins our group. I find an excuse to ease my way through the throng to confront her, then proceed to tell her she is beautiful. Thank you. Thank you.

All the while street workers bellow in our ears tuk tuk sir, motorbike sir, a RC staffer thanks us for coming, two of the LBs mount motorbikes and take off. What your name, I ask LB number 8 & 9. Lulu.

Where you go Lulu?

I go with you. O shit, it happened alright. Skip to my Lulu. Can this be for real?

Her companion from the stage review stands beside her and Bb takes proper pix while I snap off a couple of beginner ones. Lulu and friend. Then Lulu alone.

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Great reporting Ken,I think BB's Magical TR Method of writing is allso rubbing off on you....very enjoyable read....The more I look at pics of Lily of the Shoulders,she reminds me of an LB I spent a night with in snooky last february....then she worked at the Rainbow Bar ......

Lulu looks great Ken,I look forward to reading how you took full advantage of her .....keep it comming.....

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Sitting in 136 street watching the world go by. Looking out the front door of my hotel, opposite is a backpacker guesthouse called Nordic House. It has a pleasant eatery that does good cheap Western breakfasts.

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Then from within Nordic, looking back at the Golden House, a standard southeast Asian mini hotel style. The stairs beside an underground carpark mark the new trend in hotel design in this part of the world. You see lots of new hotels in Vietnam with this format now.

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Further down the street I sit at a site becoming famous in a little way, because of members of our forum: Isana Mart. The world goes by.

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