the third sex

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I was in a taxi heading for home at about 6pm on Friday evening. Friday is the worst day in Bangkok for traffic, and in addition it had been raining. Sukhumvit Road was locked solid in both directions.

The taxi inched forward, and as we approached Nana Plaza a vision came up behind us on the pavement, heading on foot in the same direction, and easily overtaking us.

It was a girl wearing a backless dress, the backlessness so extreme that you could see the top half of her bare bottom.

“Look at that!” I gasped at the taxi driver, who had been peering moodily through his rain-spattered windscreen. Indeed, the entire traffic queue was looking at that, because I saw heads craning in the cars in front and to the side of us.

The driver gave a short laugh. “Kathoey!” he said.

And of course, yes, it was. Only a ladyboy would venture out in public like that. A genetic girl, not even the most shameless of Nana Plaza’s floozies, would ever walk along Bangkok’s main thoroughfare with her bare bum hanging out of her dress.

I have spoken on this site before about ladyboy dress sense, and it is something that never ceases to leave me astounded.

Time and time again I get ladyboys turning up for a photoshoot in outfits that would have them arrested anywhere else. Bra-less, with breasts poking out of skimpy t-shirts or see-through blouses; tiny little shorts with bottom cheeks hanging out underneath; skirts so short that you can see bulging knickers beneath the hem; and costumes so breathtakingly theatrical they would make anything from the Crazy Horse look tame.

Given that this is a residential complex, with families and kids around, I tell my scouts time and time again to warn the models not to turn up in something provocative, but to bring some sexy clothing with them. But of course, I might as well be talking to myself.

The thing with a ladyboy is, that she is essentially signalling she is instantly available. This is why she lets everything hang out. Instant availability is what gives sex with a ladyboy such an explosive quality, and as so many of us like our girls (GGs or ladyboys) to act slutty, the provocative clothing can be a real turn-on.

But only indoors. Not out in the street. Boy oh boy, can it get embarrassing sometimes.

I was with a ladyboy friend named Anne. She was a good-looking girl, long hair, about five-seven in height, and she had one of the most beautiful cocks I have ever seen. It was thick at the base, and gradually decreasing along its considerable length to an arrow-shaped head. When she wanked off, the head would turn from its usual candy-pink to a dark red, which always fascinated me.

We went to her hometown of Udon Thani, in Issan. There, rather than stay in the family home, I took a room for us in a local hotel. So we would spend the nights in the hotel and then call round to her house in the morning before going off for the day in the pick-up truck I had rented.

By the time the evening came round, I was always ready to get Anne into bed before dinnertime, so that we could then go out on the town later. I would lay her on the bed and watch her great long cock grow, so that it pointed straight up towards the ceiling. It was an awesome sight.

One evening a couple of days after we arrived, we had just started on our routine when there came a tapping on the door. Anne got up to see who it was, but she forget to put her cock back into her pants, walking to the door with the great long thing wagging in front of her as she went.

Anne pulled the door open. Thankfully, it wasn’t the room maid. It was Anne’s friend Channi, a cute little ladyboy who I had met briefly for the first time that morning. Looking down now at this huge long cock staring at her pointblank, she let out a little scream of laughter. Anne, momentarily puzzled, looked down and realised. Then she too collapsed into laughter and the two of them stood there holding onto each other helplessly.

Channi came into the room. Anne’s erection had subsided, and her cock swung loosely between her thighs as she went to get Channi a Coke from the minibar. I had retreated modestly between the sheets when I heard the knock on the door, and now I flipped the bedclothes back and invited Channi in. She looked at Anne, who simply smiled and slid in on the other side of me.

Ladyboys are not into each other. The ladyboy lesbian pictures you see are all set up by the photographer. Ladyboys also tend to be shy of each other. So, before little Channi could change her mind and get out of bed again, I slipped my hand under her skirt, took hold of her small dick and gave her a hand job. She was quite happy with that. Then she lay watching as I took hold of Anne’s cock. She said she had never seen it before, and was immensely impressed by the size of it. She watched fascinated as I did to Anne what I had just done to her, and when the head of Anne’s dick blushed dark red and then shot a load, she gasped: “Ooh! Suay!” Which means beautiful. I had to agree with her.

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I’m afraid that Sargeant Shameless has just sent me the following missive that is shameless even by his deplorable standards. I reproduce it only as a warning of how low a man can sink.

On my latest incursion into Patpong I stopped at KC3, Patpong’s only ladyboy-only bar to catch up on old friends and try to make new ones. KC3’s house rules are that as soon as a customer sits down, a bunch of ladyboys line themselves up in front of him and pester him until he agrees to pick at least one of them to buy a ladydrink or possibly more. But since the Sargeant plays by his own rules, he shooed all the nagging ladyboys away while scanning the bar for the prospect most to his liking.

Before I go any further with the story, I would like to make a small interlude here to clarify that the reason I was in Patpong that night was that I was on a date with a European woman, who was looking to buy a knock-off designer purse in Patpong’s night market. Spotting an opportunity, I suggested she look for the purse at her unhurried and exhaustive female shopping pace, while I looked myself for a supposedly hard-to-find pair of men’s designer jeans. After we went our different shopping ways, I bought the first pair of jeans I saw and made a beeline for KC3. But the reality was that I had barely one hour before I had to meet my girlfriend again and thus was not even thinking of attempting any shameless endeavours.

Back to KC3. I did see a new ladyboy very much to my liking and invited her over for a drink. She started the usual small talk in hopes of bagging a paying customer. “What your name?” “Where you come from?” “How long you stay Thailand?” “You been to bar before?” The Sargeant just usually wings these questions as his mood strikes: sometimes telling the truth, sometimes not. So when the ladyboy asked, “Where you stay Bangkok?” I made up an answer by picking a number street out of my head: “Sukhumvit Soi 2″.

And then the most incredible thing happened: The ladyboy’s face lit up, she looked at me deeply and hugged me closely saying “I remember you now.” And she apologised with kisses for not having “recognized” me right away. Then she added ” I smoke yaba your apartment. You very good farang.”

Apparently, she had mistaken me for a Bangkok punter with an apartment on Soi 2 who had barfined her and provided her with all-you-can-smoke yaba (a crack-like drug favoured by Thai bartypes). Seeing the beautiful smile on her face, I did not want to disappoint her and just made a sheepish face as if saying, “I was afraid you would never recognise me.” Well, whoever the Soi 2 guy was, he sure made an impression on the ladyboy, as she took such a fancy to him that turned to me and said “You not fuck me that time, you can fuck me now, no money OK.”

My eyes popped out, my pulse started racing, and the shameless knob started throbbing against my zipper. I had about half an hour before the agreed time to meet with my girlfriend so I had to decide fast. This being the kind of situation the Sargeant lives for, I knew I had to go for it, and just hope the other guy did not have a small dick or some other feature that might give me away. So I pulled out the money for the barfine, told her to get dressed and hurry up to one of Patpong’s short time lounges. We made our way there separately, just in case my girlfriend was within visual range (thank heavens she wasn’t!). The encounter was much shorter than the Sargeant would have liked, but I made the point of penetrating her as soon as I got hard and of doing it from behind to minimise chances of her looking at me and realising her confusion.

In the end, I offered to give her 300 baht (less than 10 US$), which she accepted without bitterness at how small it was and even gave me one more big, heartfelt hug. I would have given her more money, but that would have spoiled the experience of me getting a freebie, which was the whole point.

I did make it back to my girlfriend at the agreed spot on time as she happily waved a fake Dolce&Gabana purse at me and I reciprocated by pulling out of a bag a pair of studded fake Armani jeans. Turns out they were not even my size so I had to go back to Patpong the next day to exchange them. But that’s another story.

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Ronnie Kray famously used to say, “I might be queer, but I’m not a poof.” And you know something? No one ever disagreed with him.

I tend to feel this way about ladyboys. A ladyboy, after all, is biologically male. If you consider yourself to be a straight person, then finding ladyboys a turn-on is decidedly queer, at least in the dictionary sense of the word, ie peculiar.

For those who might worry about their sexuality because they have realised they find ladyboys exciting, there is a simple litmus test. Think back over the course of the day, and ask yourself: Who was I looking at out in the streets? Was I eyeing up the girls, or the fellers?

Another test occurred to me recently, when an extensive overseas visit meant that I didn’t set eyes on a ladyboy for three weeks. As a result, I was plagued by erotic dreams. A few were about ladyboys, but overwhelmingly the dreams were about genetic girls. I didn’t once have an erotic dream about a man.

In the occasional dream where I do find myself in a sexual situation with a male, my dream responses are those of repugnance. My reaction to the idea of having sex with a man is pretty much that of a conventional straight male: No.

So, as I have said here before, there is a dividing line somewhere in which a young male ceases to be male and becomes as alluring to me as would a girl.

This might be because of the subliminal impulses triggered by a ladyboy taking female hormones, but often I find those who don’t take the stuff to be more attractive than those who do.

In fact, I often find ladyboys who have taken hormones for many years and who consequently have an over-egged appearance and a flaccid dick to be a real turn-off. The same applies to those who have put too much plastic in their faces. And post-ops I simply have no use for. I have seen too many surgically created pussies in my time, and examined too many of them closely, to find them remotely interesting.

Back to the old conundrum, then. What is it about a ladyboy that triggers the erotic senses? What is the actual tipping point? I’ve posed that question here before so many times, but I still don’t have the answer.

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There is a model named Bang whose photoset I posted on the main site a couple of weeks ago. She is no beauty, if I may be ungentlemanly enough to say so, but she radiates an animal sexuality that stirs up troubling thoughts if you happen to be a natural top.

Bang is big, about six foot tall, and she has an enormous cock. When she first took off her pants it swung out and then stood out stiff and straight without the need for any encouragement at all. She is undeniably masculine in appearance, yet she has a femininity that sends out confusing signals.

The feelings she arouses are therefore conflicting ones. I suspect (I have no carnal knowledge of her) that a session in the sack might end up with a naturally top person being ravished: ravished by a six-foot ladyboy with the build of a wrestler, a cock like a full hosepipe, and a face like a tigress.

Sometimes you can’t control these situations, and Bang seems to be the kind of lady who doesn’t take no for an answer. If she happens to be bigger and stronger than you, you could without it having been planned that way end up bottom.

Where does that put our top person in terms of sexuality?

Reading the demented ramblings of Sargeant Shameless a little earlier on this blog gives some clue. He had spent a night with two spectacularly endowed ladyboys, during which he had been subjected to a close-up view of his pillow for much of the time, and had survived the ordeal with most of his pride attached. I’m not so sure about the rest of him. I know the Sargeant personally, and he is a very masculine kind of man. Yet he had no shame (well, he wouldn’t really, would he) about playing the bottom role.

The same goes for an Australian building contractor of my acquaintance, a rough diamond if ever there was one, but who is not too embarrassed to admit, after a couple of stubbies, that his ultimate excitement is to take it from a big-cocked ladyboy. “It’s only sex, mate,” he says. “Mind you, I can’t talk about this at home.”

This I think is partly the reason that so many guys feel guilty about going bottom: they can’t talk about it. They turn the possibility over in their minds, decide that it’s going just a bit too far in the wrong direction, and cry off. Yet if you can talk about these things, even anonymously, it helps to sort things out in your mind.

So if you do happen to find yourself prone under a large ladyboy, then I would suggest that far from being guilty about it, you should try it again as soon as you can. And also send your experience in to me, and I’ll be happy to post it here.