Magnificent ?? Obsession

TSTPaul · #1 16th August 2009, 09:25 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Kaojai

Didn't mean it to be particularly critical of others anymore than myself.

Well it is for those of us who post detailed accounts of our CFS's...

Quote:

Originally Posted by Kaojai

Yes, I realize this board is entitled "cruisuing for sex," and I have no problem with the pursuit of sex for enjoyment.

It sounds as thought you do if it involves anything outside of the homo "Christian Missionary Possy"!

Quote:

Originally Posted by Kaojai

...are becoming obsessed with something that is beautiful in moderation, but a little gross if carried on to excess. There are clearly some people here who could not have much time left in their lives for anything else, based on their compulsive, daily postings.

A more or less direct quote from the Bishop of Whatsit or Cardinal Dicksucker.

I think you should stay away if you don't like our deliberate, detailed nay scientific postings on the issue closest to our hearts (read = dicks) covering issues of cruising for sex on crusingforsex.com. They would probably be more relevant to the Martha Stewart knitting circle website. Bye

scoops · #2 16th August 2009, 10:11 PM

I'm hoping the details might also include the threadcount on the sheets on the massage table, plus of course the brand name on the sheets, this is definitely a decision maker for me.

And perhaps the exact specific volume of cum from the massage boy, plus an analysis of the salt level and the protein level.

Or perhaps a decible reading on the moan on the second ******.

Or perhaps a count of the number of times the massage boy said "I love you".

TSTPaul · #3 16th August 2009, 10:24 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by scoops

...perhaps a count of the number of times the massage boy said "I love you".

Ahhh takes me back.. You of course mean 'I lurve you'. I remember meeting this fabulous fellow in Pattaya who within 20 seconds of meeting me told me ..."I lurve You'.. Of course I believed him and as proof you only had to feel his dick which was like steel! Not sure if there is a scientific 'hardness' scale but from that day to this, amongst my friends, his name (lets call him LEK) is now used as a 'hardness index' ... ie a bit on the soft side = 0.5Lek or better still a ripping great throbber = 1.2Lek etc.

Now back to more compulsive sexually oriented disturbing posts... Wait a minute its your turn!

scoops · #4 16th August 2009, 10:49 PM

Got to agree, a hardness test must be included.

Perhaps we could all add some tests or criteria in an endeavour to build a specific ISO standard.

But can I suggest we use Grenwich mean time as an anchor point?

Keith · #5 14th September 2009, 07:56 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by scoops

I'm hoping the details might also include the threadcount on the sheets on the massage table, plus of course the brand name on the sheets, this is definitely a decision maker for me.

And perhaps the exact specific volume of cum from the massage boy, plus an analysis of the salt level and the protein level.

Or perhaps a decible reading on the moan on the second ******.

Or perhaps a count of the number of times the massage boy said "I love you".

I'm loving you Scoops! Maybe you need a late night comedy routine.

Kaojai · #6 21st August 2009, 01:21 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by TSTPaul

I think you should stay away if you don't like our deliberate, detailed nay scientific postings on the issue closest to our hearts (read = dicks) covering issues of cruising for sex on crusingforsex.com. They would probably be more relevant to the Martha Stewart knitting circle website. Bye

In your rush to foam at the mouth and name call, you seem to have taken ownership of the website

Quote:

you don't like our deliberate, detailed nay scientific postings

Over the years I've probably posted more detailed (and probably more interesting) accounts of my experiences here and elsewhere under various posting identities ...( a couple of examples posted in the next message.) I'll have to look for some of your detailed and fascinating reports.

My point was that there are times when something that is good in moderation can escalate to an obsession. You may find it impossible to take an objective look at yourself, but I do from time to time. Just as someone who spends all his time downloading porn or gambling or boozing needs to assess if he is losing control to the point where one pursuit is becoming a 24/7 undertaking to the exclusion of all else, so too might it be a good idea for all of us to decide if we are spending too much in gogo bars and massage venues.

I've lived here for over ten years and I enjoy the gogo bars and to a lesser extent the massage places and I enjoy having a younger Thai friend who lives with me much of the time ... but when an enjoyable aspect of one's life becomes a compulsive obsession you need to decide if it's become more of an addiction than just an important form of enjoyment.

If you find those thoughts send you bouncing off the walls in furious denial, that might indicate something.

Kaojai · #7 21st August 2009, 01:25 AM

A detailed report that I wrote after one of my monthly trips to Bangkok.

Quote:

Sleepless in Krung Thep

After two massages earlier in the day and a failed attempt at a nap, I ordered room service for dinner at the Tarntawan and then was off to Soi Twilight to down a couple of brandies to quell the rising discontent in my stomach. I love the Tarntawan for many reasons, but the food is definitely not one of them.

At 20:30 I approached HotMale. The guy standing out front said they don’t open until 9:00, but anyway I should go on up and look at the boys. Seems a good idea so I do. Some very beefy boys are practicing some dance. The electrician is doing things with the lighting. Some boys are lounging around. The mamasan and a waiter greet me and I get my nam soda. So far, the fully clothed electrician is the sexiest guy in sight.

Eventually the song from Star Wars, or whatever it is, blares forth and all the boys assemble on stage for roll call. Apparently it’s senior night at HotMale. I don’t mean to sound cruel, but I think a couple of those guys must be doing the gogo thing to supplement their pensions. There were a few interesting guys, especially if you’re into beef, but I began a futile search for the electrician. The only guy on stage who had some potential never made eye contact and seemed rather dejected by something. Not very encouraging. I wonder if electricians are offable.

Next to The Boys (of Bangkok). Not much caught my attention there, but there was one guy on the opposite side of the stage, with his back to me initially, who stood out. Slim, somewhat small is stature, brown, nice build but not overly muscular. Although he was a fair distance from me and I wasn’t pointedly staring at him, he seemed to pick up on my interest and when it was his turn to exit the stage, he didn’t. I generally like someone to make eye-contact so you can read his reactions & attitude and I like a bit of cockiness. He passed those tests and I waved him over. No hesitancy on his part.

I’ll call him Mr. J… Mr. J is an Isaan-ite, very affectionate, very masculine, no spring chicken but not ancient and when he got dressed in a dark knit crewneck pullover and black trousers, quite handsome. No blue jeans riding half-way down his butt or enormous belt buckles or exotic, gelled hairdo.

Back in the room he was naked by the time I closed the door and his very smokable appendage was already ¾ erect. He plunked down two condoms on the table and went off to the shower. Mr. J obviously believed in safe sex, which was comforting to know.

All went exceedingly well. Some guys can be quite sexy and others very affectionate, but the qualities don’t always coexist. Mr. J had them both.

After completing round one, I figured we’d have a drink, watch a little TV and then contemplate a repeat performance. Mr. J, however, felt no need for a half-time break and never lost momentum or his erection. Ah, youth.

It finally came time to call in a defibrillator for me and for Mr. J to do young & energetic night time things on his own. Of course, as is expected, he insisted that we exchange phone numbers, vowed, not for the first time, that he loved me and wanted to know when I’d be back. Then before departing he reminded me once again that he loved me. Kind thoughts even if relatively meaningless. I contemplated a quick visit to Tawan, but decided since it was past 11:00, I’d watch some TV and call it a day.

04:15 The bloody alarm went off. I tried jabbing randomly at the control panel, managing to turn off the A/C and turn on every light in the room in the process, but the alarm continued bleating until I got up, found my glasses and hit the correct button. I never remember to check that the damn alarm clock is switched off and inevitably someone has left it on… and invariably that someone set the alarm at an ungodly hour. I turned off the lights and eventually started to doze off. BUT …

05:15 mobile phone rings. Surprise, surprise, it’s Mr. J calling to check that he has the right number for my phone and to tell me he loves me. I toss & turn and once again start to doze off. BUT …

06:05 mobile rings. By an amazing coincidence, Mr. J has found himself in the neighborhood of my hotel and …
So I agree it would ne nice to see him again before leaving for Pattaya.

06:10 reception calls to announce that my friend, Mr. J, is here.

Moments later I open the door to two remarkably similar boys. Mr. J’s companion explains that Mr. J doesn’t speak English very well, so he’s come along to translate.

Whisper, whisper. “Mr. J says he loves you.” Well at last that’s finally been clarified. Mr. J and his translator take off their clothes, apparently to facilitate further communication, and I am presented with two brown, lean, smooth bodies with very smoke-able accoutrements. Despite having shot two impressive loads earlier and consuming some beer in the interim, Mr. J once again rises to the occasion and his translator, who turns out to be multi-talented, sets about smoking me … unbidden, but not unappreciated. Who needs sleep?

More assurances of everlasting love and Mr. J wants to know when I’ll come back to Bangkok. I say in Thai “baang-tii saam atit,” and the translator tells Mr. J, in English, “maybe three weeks.” What would one do without the luxury of real-time translation?

Finally the exit of two examples of why living in Thailand will never cease to amaze and delight. Somehow retiring to a trailer park in Sarasota, Florida would seem a trifle dull in comparison.

I then headed downstairs to deal with the dreaded Tarntawan breakfast. I swear they deep fry the bacon, amongst other horrors, but I figured you can’t go wrong with khao dtum gai and even they wouldn’t be able to make that greasy. Wrong again, on both counts.

Despite all that is continually available in Pattaya, a visit to Bangkok at least once a month is decidedly worthwhile …quite possibly therapeutic… and no two visits are quite the same.

Kaojai · #8 21st August 2009, 01:34 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by TSTPaul

Well it is for those of us who post detailed accounts of our CFS's...

It sounds as thought you do if it involves anything outside of the homo "Christian Missionary Possy"!

And here is part of a response I wrote to someone on the matter of finding the right guy and repeatedly offing him to improve the experience with the benefits of familiarity.

Quote:

And some of us derive most of our sexual pleasure by being able to find all the things that can drive our "play-companion" slowly, inexorably, relentlessly to a quivering, twitching, (nearly subvocal) moaning climax where tightened muscles, taut extended feet, clenched hands, rhythmically thrusting hips suddenly convulse as the glans swells and deep inside a muscle pumps spasmodically sending forth a hot stream of cream and every muscle then goes limp as endorphins flood his mind & body… a light glistening dew covers his face, his lips tremble almost imperceptibly, his penis continues to throb in sympathy with his pulse & the final contractions of his vas deferens muscle … his vision remains unfocused but as you look into his eyes they sparkle and a smirky twitch plays on his lips.

Never happens the first couple of times, but the potential is usually recognizable and worth rewarding. A large tip won’t turn a ukulele into a Stradivarius, but once you get your hands on the Stradi, you won’t want to pluck anything else.

Quote:

Originally Posted by TSTPaul

A more or less direct quote from the Bishop of Whatsit or Cardinal Dicksucker.

And part of what I wrote after a recent visit to Senso:

Quote:

I showered alone while he waited and then I lay down on the table while he showered. He was nude throughout and did really have quite a beautiful body. Aside from a nice head of hair and a small but un-tampered-with pubic bush (yes!!) , he was hairless. Ivory coloured skin and “cute” face.
He began work on my right foot and then lower leg, definitely locating some sore spots and working them well. He made sweeping movements up the length of the leg to the buttocks and that included decidedly stimulating contact with the perineum and scrotum. Same with the left leg.
Then he straddled me to work on the butt and back, moving his hips so that his genitals lightly touched me repeatedly. At that point my back & legs were well and truly oiled and he began sliding his whole body up and down my back. He was erect by this time and each time he slid upwards, he made a gentle sighing, groaning sound close to my ear.
When I turned over, he first did my hands & forearms and then repeated the work on the legs, the genitals and eventually doing a full-body, fully erect, sliding up & down. He initiated some hugging that enabled me to knead his very nice buttocks and back as he continued thrusting & sliding. When he breathed into my ear that he wanted to fuck me, I was reminded that I had told the manager what I wanted … to smoke the boy only … but I hadn’t told him, although at that point I was about ready for anything.
Nonetheless, I got off the table and with him lying there I did some totally unprofessional massaging of my own & concluded with very enjoyable smoking. After delivering a nice load, there was still about 15 minutes left and he made no move to get up so I lay alongside him, tonguing off any remaining cum, stroking his silky legs & abs and playing with his penis and impossibly soft scrotum. He seemed quite content with that. We showered together at the finish. It was really the first time I was able to see all of him in good light …made all the more delicious-looking because he was glistening from the shower… which I should add included watermelon smelling liquid soap.
When I first arrived I was disappointed that the boys I had hoped to find weren’t working and I was actually toying with the idea of saying I’d come back another time, but I have to say that was one of the best, most sensual … almost affectionate … experiences I’ve ever had with a boy in Thailand in any context.
I know it was orchestrated and by design, but damn when it comes to orchestrations, that rather tentative unassuming boy would make Herbert von Karajan & Seiji Ozawa look like a couple of ukulele pluckers.
He got B2000. I was only charged B 1000 for the massage. I floated back to the hotel.

I know this sort of thing doesn't compare to the thrill of longitude & lattitude or bus routes or endless repetition about big cock parades on Soi Twilight bars ... but I don't think it makes me a religious fanatic either.

Rather than having a spontaneous hysterectomy because someone suggests that "more can be less," maybe a thoughtful reasoned response ... or none at all ... would have been more appropriate.