Saturday, January 22, 2011

Mona Lisa smile

“Sex-u-al-ity, strong and warm and wild and free,” or so sang opinionated modern day minstrel Billy Bragg. He was simply saying, in his own way, that we Humans should feel free to love whomever we should feel drawn to. And I, personally, think that is a big part of the amazing part of being alive.


Sexuality is a funny thing eh readers. You know, Paul was telling me just the other day, that anatomically a man and a woman’s mouth are identical. It is not for the first time I’ve heard someone say that, but Paul should know, since he was once training to be a man of medicine. And because he has sucked off a lot of chatty bisexuals.


Bragg is straight though, straight as a die. A man’s man, in the conventional sense of the word. He makes that abundantly clear in the opening two lines of his paen to erotica, asserting his very definite heterosexuality by laying claiming to having “had relations with girls from many nations” and “ making “passes at women of all classes”. Bragg by name eh!? LOL. He sounds like a bloody sex pest to me.


Mind, he also throws the chaps in chaps a lifeline adding that “just because you're gay,” he “won't turn you away” and “If you stick around” he is sure that you’ll “find some common ground”. There we have it, I think we know what he’s talking about. Like that Labour MP Ron Davies, eh readers, he found some common ground didn’t he eh?! he, he, Clapham Common, ground. LOL! Badger spotters eh, they can’t help themselves.


Still, that all seems like a very long time ago, and my mind couldn’t have been further away from that balmy autumnal night in ’98. My flight was skidding down onto the steaming tarmac of Bangkok's Suvarnabhumi Airport. There was only one thought on my mind: Tia. Lovely Tia. Hot and brooding Tia. Sultry and sexy Tia. My wife, my lover, my muse.

The only problem was, all I had to go on was a grainy MMS that she'd sent. She looked quite hot. But only in the same way that all slightly blurred pixilated pictures of young girls on the internet look hot. I don't mean that to sound in any way too perverted. By the tone of her text messages all week, she was very definitnely an adult.

I wasn't to be disappointed though. Not one bit. She was every bit as beautiful as I had imagined and hoped. I was not going to rush it though. I've learned that lesson the hard way. Women, all women - even Thai women - get a bit worried if you're over eager. I don't care what Billy Bragg or any of the other metrosexuals out there say, women like men to be men. Apart from lesbians. Although, actually, I think that even lesbians are happy with men being men, just as long as they're not women. I mean to say, not men dressed up as women in order to hoodwink them into some sort of faux lesbian relationship.

Dave the roofer always used to joke that he thought he must be a lesbian, but in all seriousness, once they got you back to their place and out of the dungarees they'd only be disappointed - even if you only had a small cock too. Imagine that! If you had a micro-penis and you'd gone through life the butt of jokes in the locker room, and the object of pity and ridicule in the bedroom, then you managed to pull a lesbian (maybe she was bi - rather than by some other cross-dressing route) and so she wasn't even technically that bothered about cocks, then she saw your cock and it was TOO BIG! Ha!

The mind boggles, truly, but I bet it has happened. Whatever you can think of has happened. You can bet on that. It'll have happened, and someone will have filmed it and put it on the internet.

Tia had arranged for her brother to pick us up in his taxi, I say taxi, it was actually quite a swanky limo. Cool eh? I felt like James Bond or something. She was so excited about my arrival. What a welcome. She got her bro to raise the modesty blind between the driver's cab and the back seats and administered some oral pleasure. Christ on a tuk-tuk. I was literally blown away.

The plan was that we'd stay a week or so in Bangkok and then go on honeymoon. To tell you the truth, I was not at this point wholly convinced that we were married. Not in the sense that she would be able to put a claim in for half my flat or anything. That said, I was also so enraptured that I didn't really give it much thought.

Handily, her dear old Mum ran a BnB almost in the centre of town, which was great fun. She had loads of siblings too, eight sisters and three brothers, which was amazing. Her mum looked about 239 years old! As regular readers will know all too well, my Mum decided that one was enough, so I was starved of the gift of brothers and sisters. I suppose that being an only child has shaped me somewhat and I wouldn't change a single thing, even if I could. But marrying into such a huge family seemed like a dream come true. And, I'll tell you what, her sisters weren't half bloody bad too.

Most of the evenings Tia and all her sisters went out to work. They had various waitressing jobs at cafes and restaurants in town. I'd entertain myself with a few drinks on my tod in the BnB. Although, one of the brothers was always hanging around. They never said very much, but they were bloody brilliant at Fifa and seemed to know just about all of the names of the Premier League stars. Not a single one of them had heard of Brian Clough though. It's a sign of the times readers.

During the daytime in the afternoon once Tia had woken up, she would take me on tours of the temples and sights, and I'd help out on various errands on her moped! If Mum could see me she'd have flipped, she banned me from having a moped, calling them 'deathraps' - ah, dear Mum. Something'll get you in the end, you might as well go out having fun.

We always made sure we were back at the BnB in time for Tia to get dolled up for work. The one big downside of staying with her family was the fact that we had to stay in separate rooms. Even though we were married, supposedly it is customary in those parts for the married couple to sleep apart for a week before the honeymoon. I have great great respect for customs, all customs - even, and I want to make this clear to some of my more politically correct readers, even those customs that denigrate the women of Islam. I have done a lot of reading on religion and as far as I'm concerned if a religion believes something, however completely absurd, we need to completely respect that completely. We're one global village now man. Like in the HSBC adverts. Act globally, think locally, that's my motto.

Tia's brothers watched me like bloody hawks actually. But she always found a way to sneak into my room after she got back from her shift. It was so romantic. I tried to get my hand down at one point on the first night, but the bed was so squeaky and she said her brothers would cut off my penis if they found out. Well, to tell you the truth, after she said that, I wasn't even overly keen on her sneaking into my room, and so when she did, we'd just very quietly cuddle. She always made sure that we found a secluded spot in a public lavatory or behind a wall during the day for her to satisfy the fires burning deep within my loins with a quick hand-job or blowie. Mustn't grumble Barry old son.

I was very much ready for the honeymoon section of the trip though, and so when went off to the Islands, I was in seventh heaven. At last, it was just me and Tia and no distractions. The blazing sun, the crystal clear waters, the Tiger beer (which is my second fav after Cobra) and a large box of Durex - I got those ones with the bellend numbing agent for her pleasure. It was the honeymoon, after all.

We arrived and spent the day unpacking and then down at the beach soaking up the rays and the pina coladas. Tia looked amazing in her bikini top and sarong. I think she must have had some work done, really, Thai girls don't have big boobs, that's probably their one biggest weakness. But it is nothing the wonders of modern medicine cannot correct.

After a day on the beach we enjoyed a romantic dinner in the evening - which, between you and me, could well have been the source of my gut wrenching diarrhoea 24 hours later. Blimey, it felt like I was pissing scolding hot razor blades from out of my rectum. But over the candle lit table with the full moon raising over the South Pacific, those hours of agony hovering over nothing more than a hole in the ground hanging onto a mouldy length of rope were the last thing on my mind. Still, that's the benefit of hindsight isn't it? I probably wouldn't have gone for the duck if I'd known what was coming.

After dinner we walked hand in hand across the beach back to our hut and kissed the kiss of a thousands kisses. She had a piece of coriander or something on her teeth, but I didn't mind. It didn't matter. She was going to brush her teeth. I am fastidious when it comes to oral hygiene. It's stood me in good stead too, Mum always insisted on taking me to the dentists every six months when I was a lad in Lincoln. And, while it is habit I have grown out of lately, it remains a constant source of pleasure whenever I am able to proudly tell people that I have not one single cavity or filling of any type. Unlike Steve whose mouth is like a scrapyard.

I brushed and flossed and readied myself for bed. I had been planning to have what Dave the roofer calls a "tactical wank" but I thought the special johnnies I'd got would help keep me going a bit longer before the inevitable. Tia entered the bedchamber wearing just her sarong, her flowing raven hair cascading across her sculpted shoulders and motionless bosom. Actually, she did have quite broad shoulders for such a sweet young flower. I thought that maybe it was because she was a child swimming protégée like Sharon Davies or Rebecca Adlington. You have to admit it readers, they are fine athletic women and no mistake, but when they get dolled up for award ceremonies they do kind of look a bit like drag artists.

Tia let her sarong drop to the floor wearing nothing more than her enigmatic smile.

I was astounded. Stunned into silence. Gobsmacked. Coincidentally, the last time I was this taken aback I was watching the Bob Hoskins classic Mona Lisa with Steve. I had a proper stiffy then, and I had one now. Steve said he always knew. But no one knows. You can't tell. I don't care who you are.

I'm not talking about my stiffies readers, I'm talking about that bit where we find out that Simone the call girl is packing a bit of surprise. Mind you, I didn't believe the 'reveal' in Boogie Nights either. Clearly Mark Walburg does not have a penis that big, no one can have a penis that size, you'd pass out if you ever got aroused. But when I looked at Tia's portion I started thinking maybe Walburg really did have a schlong that long. Tia's bellend was halfway down her thigh! *choke* Now, I know she was much shorter than me, so maybe her old chap wasn't all that much longer than mine ;-) but proportionally speaking, it was an absolute monster.

I was a long, long, cock readers, and it would prove to be a very long, long night.

6 comments:

  1. Hellow!
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  2. Oh dear Barry - I'm guessing this isn't the kind of honeymoon package you had in mind!

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  3. Oh to be young again. Concerning Brian Clough, am a Derby County season ticket holder, god forbid. Nigel's trying hard but he's not like his dad. keep smiling.

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  4. Funny - and tragic - stuff. Well-written, though, and furnished me a good half of my lunch hour engrossed in it. Thanks!

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  5. Thanks for the comments you guys.

    And a special "Hellow" to you Megarotk. I am always keen to encourage sensible eating.

    MLS - you are a blogging heavyweight!
    Grumpy old ken - sorry to hear about your affliction. You'll be feeling especially down after the weekend's result.
    Suldog - tragic? I think it was rather beautiful... glad you had something to munch on, beware ducks bearing gifts.

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  6. I don't know, this is all fine and good, but I'm having trouble getting past the Mona Lisa transformation. Is that Paris Hilton on the right?

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