Have you ever fancied finding out the lady you love is a man?

(Come to Thailand – Enjoy!)

Oh, yes, the Land of Smiles is just that, and more. It’s also the Land of Laughs. And guess who the laugh’s on? Well, yes, you.

OK, so you get off the plane a bit lagged, a bit befuzzled, and you make for Pattaya, that paradise for old and young men, especially old. You hit the bar just outside your hotel and fall for the first beautiful lady you see who plants her derriere on your lap. You take a swig of your beer, then a wee drappie of your Thai whiskey, then another and another and another wee, wee drappie, then a bigger bottle of your favourite beer, and your brain which you have used on the building sites o’ th’world bings and buzzes but isn’t quite there. You’ve been travelling for seventeen hours and you aren’t used to it. Neither is your brain. But what is it not used to? It’s staring at a tall lady in high heels with muscular legs, a low, strange voice, an unseen Adam’s apple, large hands and feet, and she is kissing you and your brain passionately. You just don’t get it but you get her lipstick all over your face. What a laugh! Yes, the merriment builds up and so does your check bin*. You caress her face and it is as smooth as a baby’s bum. It smiles back at you, and has remembered to apply the make-up correctly and shave the upper lip where little if any facial hair lurks. She is caressing your interested member, and you stroke her. She has a small mound (of Venus). Tucked in she nuzzles you nicely. Her friends are laughing along, and you buy them all drinks. You are now surrounded by the most amazing and beautiful girls you have ever seen. They are more feminine than any girls you have ever met, and European ladies just don’t compare. The Thai whiskey and soda overwhelm you, too. It is time for consummation before it is too late. Hugging the love of your life you just about make it across the square to your sumptuous hotel where the receptionist avoids eye-contact with you and asks your friend for ID. Into the lift. Into the room. Lights very dim. You very dim. Alcohol very every. She is having oral sex. You are fading. You are widely unawake. She has turned around. Her body is one of the best. “Turn the lights on,” you groan. “No, no,” she replies, “no romantic.” Then you are snoring. The next morning she has gone. The next evening there she is but they have already told you in whispers she’s a cross-dresser and now you are a bit cross-, too.

Oh, well.

*check bin – the bill

 

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