What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is my weekly confession. On the day of posting this blog, perhaps as you’re reading it, I’m in transit from BKK to Ptown with my brother, who is champing at the bit to hit Soi 6 and get lascivious with a chubby Thai bar girl. We left a Los Angeles as a city on fire, with my mother irrationally panicked that the flames would reach her suburban doorstep. I tried explaining to her that that was impossible but the power of her imagination trumps all logical thought. The rest of the country currently sits on a powder keg. Enraged leftists are calling for blue-hairs to take up arms and block the Inauguration on the 20th. The Media is hyping the new virus spreading in China as the new Covid. Meanwhile I’m trying to forget all that by laying hands on lithe nubile Thai hussies. For this pudgy poonhound, the past month and recent hours have been a mixed bag of pleasure and pain–though isn’t that what this quintessence of dust is? We’re all trying to balance the shit-smile ratio of our lives.
Last night we Ponged, and I’ll tell you how it went, but first, a word about the Business Class flight from LAX by way of Asiana Airlines:
Check-in at Bradley International was surprisingly breezy. The only hiccup was with the TSA, who handled the throngs stupidly. The lines dragged on, and passing through the cancer machines was clumsy. Then it was all up to Asiana.
While I found life in Korea to be an intolerable nightmare, they’re a very polite, handsome-looking people who do international travel right. I’m very familiar with the Star Alliance Lounge in LAX. It feels almost like a second home. I always make mimosas and black Russians, avoiding the food, and make use of the private bathrooms.
The flight overall was pure bliss, and the Business Class section was rammed with smoking hot Korean hotties. Lunch was beef carpaccio salad which was marvelous, and pistachio-crusted steak with 3 kinds of carrot and potato mash with mushroom gravy, also fantastic and paired with a cabernet from Wente. Then a cheese plate with Port followed by a raspberry soft cake. For airline food, it was transcendent.
After a comfortable 12.5 hour flight, we shuffled through security again at Incheon and then stumbled into the lounge where Asiana always serves the worst food imaginable and there are far too many travelers and not enough seats, water, or booze. But I forgive it all merely for the hot Asian ass eye candy in that airport. Lord, have mercy.
Our last leg was delayed two hours but the staff were friendly and accommodating. Not “mile high club” accommodating but still very amiable. But then we were delayed again by a passenger who couldn’t find the gate, then once more for an unexplained reason. And then I was ready to murder someone. Dinner was scallops and beef tenderloin with truffle but I slept through it. And then the shit really hit the fan.
Thai Immigration decided to fuck with me for the first time in 15 years.
A bit of backstory: when I arrived in Cali back in November, I applied for the new E-Visa using the brand new online application process. The site said to be ready to wait as long as a month for approval. At time of posting, it’s 12 January and my visa has STILL not been processed. I’d already spent $3,000 on the flight, so I wasn’t about to stay in LA. I opted for a visa-on-arrival, purchasing an departing plane ticket for February just in case. Well, the Immigration officer was not happy with that. He leafed through my Passport multiple times, scrutinizing the stamps and shaking his head before calling over a supervisor who ushered me into a corner office. There, a very unpleasant little woman said there was a “problem” with my Passport. I said, “No, there isn’t.” She said, “You stay Thailand too much.” I said, “I’ve lived and worked here for 15 years.” She said, “Yeah,” as though that was the problem. She said, “You can’t long-stay on a tourist visa.” I said, “the Multi-Entry is good for six months and I’m required to leave and come back. That’s literally the rule I have to follow.” She became very angry at that and said, “You too old, you should be on a Retirement Visa.” I said I had applied for the DTV while in Los Angeles but it hadn’t been processed yet. “Show me,” she said. So I logged in and showed that my application was pending document approval, and that seemed to calm her down. She stamped my Passport and let me in the country, but took copious notes on a piece of paper, then snapped a photo of said notes with her phone. I don’t know if that means I’m red flagged, but if you stop seeing BK redlight posts here next month, it’s because I’m trapped in Cambodia or somewhere. I finally made it to my bed at 4 am, and following a long sleep and a visit from two concubines, my bro and I a trip t’Pong the following evening.
Wow, the cooler temperatures in BKK at the moment are certainly what the doctor ordered, even if the tourists aren’t. Speaking of, the listless crowds in the more remote parts of Silom were a surprise. What those families see in a neighborhood with a gym and a snus shop is beyond me. Maybe they didn’t do enough research when hotel shopping, but Naradiwas Road currently has long streams of Caucasian families and gang of drunk Gen Zers stumbling around under Chong Nonsi Station. Enjoy the bread shop and McDonald’s, ya chumps.
On arriving at the Night Market, I was dismayed to find English was the dominant language being spoken. The ratio of tourists to the rest of us was as high as an average day Phuket. It filled my heart with trepidation at what we would find in Pattaya.
King’s 1 had a gaggle of newhotskinnies–what a welcome sight for these clunge-deprived eyes. My bro and I arrived at 8:20 and got the last 2 seats. They could accurately change the name from King’s Castle to Little Japan. It’s clearly their go-to gogo. They roll in, grab a girl and sit with her for hours, buying tray after tray of shots. Meanwhile I’m on a surgical strike with my sibling. He wants to barfine and bail. We scrutinized the rotation for the right rotund lady (my bro is a chubby-chaser). He didn’t see one that was big-enough, so we stepped out to the terrace for a mini-Cuban whereupon we were immediately accosted by a Norwegian moron high on shrooms who insinuated himself at our table and started babbling nonsense about writing a book and self-discovery. My sib and I politely asked smalltalk questions, all of which he ignored. He couldn’t take his eyes off my brother, who is bald, tattooed, and 300 lbs. He kept commenting on his “look.” So I paid and got us out of there before he took the fool’s head off. We slipped to King’s 2 where a girl I’d made the mistake of giving my Line to has been hounding me to come visit. She spotted me from the stage and shouted my name, miming the “buy me a drink” gesture so common in these environs. Instead, I walked over and slipped a hundy in the front of her knickers, then tweaked her tits and smacked her ass, which had the double-affect of endearing her to the idea of accepting concubineship and causing the eyes of noob customers to bug out of their heads.
Continuing the theme of stupid fucking solo sex tourists butting into my world, another lone eurodouche came and sat next to us, leaning in to eavesdrop on our conversation, looking at us periodically as if hoping to be acknowledged. I hurried to pay but the bloke introduced himself and struck up one of those common redlight conversations about whores around the world. My brother attracts those kinds. The solo loneliest, or solonelies for short, copyright BKK7. As we got up to leave, he said, “Oh, you’re leaving already?” Coincidentally it also what my gogo clinger said. “You go so early? Not buy me drink?” No, I said. She sent a Line emoji of a bear crying. I sent back a cartoon GIF of a blowjob.
It was schoolgirl cosplay night at Virgin, and after 6 weeks away I was pleasantly surprised to find VigrinX, the gogo next door, had changed from a ladyboy spot back to a real-lady gogo. When I left, they were trying their luck with katoeys. Evidently, it didn’t work. I’m relieved to see they detransitioned. In Virgin, I was greeted by some familiar faces and the usual wais. Nat was onstage, looking per usual like she was struggling to stay slim. Her battle with the bulge has been somewhat heartbreaking to watch over the years. At one time long ago, her body was a perfect sex machine. That was before Covid. These days she’s constantly on the edge of being too chubby. Her ass can easily get out of control, and the flawless sixpack of the late 20teens is rarely seen these days. But I always encourage her to keep fighting the good fight, despite knowing that at 25, her better days are already behind her.
ViirginX is now a larger, louder clone of Virgin. Many of my fave girls work there now, and the vibe is palpably more optimistic than when I left TLOS a month and a half ago. It’s interesting in high season to observe the difference between noob sex tourists and seasoned semipros. So many dudes don’t know how to act. They’re sheepish, blushing, too self-aware. The repeat offenders are all business. I’m neither species. I’m an old lion whose perpetual pride is the redlight. It’s impossible to ignore the dozens of stares by customers who must wonder what it is about me that makes the girls fawn and dote. If only I could explain it to them. If only they could somehow find this website and read the long sordid history of my exploits. Then they would understand. As it is, I just ignore their envious vibes and pursue the mysterious drug-like fix that the redlight provides. That dragon we mongers perpetually chase and occasionally catch in the form of a bedded bevy, or better yet, a new harem girl.
At any rate, that was all she wrote for my and my brother’s first night in country. It’s good to be back—the US is a shitshow, and the love I mutually share with the dancers and local Thais in Silom is like a warm blanket for my soul. Everywhere we went, girls and bar staff said “where have you been?” I went to the US for Christmas was my pat reply. Shortly after posting this to the Web my sib and I will be in a taxi bound for Ptown. I haven’t had a regular conc there in years, but on this visit I’m committed to finding one. I’ll keep you posted as to my progress.
This week’s Members Only Gallery is a set of three video compilations of gogo dancers onstage, backstage, at home, and on holiday. If you like the gang of ex-XXX lounge and Strip dancers that I often feature, you’ll enjoy them.
The link is here: https://bangkokseven.com/members-only-gallery-3-gogo-dancer-video-compilations/
but only if you become a Member. The price is $1 per month, and new content is added weekly. I’m too dumb to figure out how to link the weekly posts to a single button on my website, so I post the links on my social every Friday, and provide a summary of all posts at the end of each month. Sorry for the inconvenience.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Sorry for all the typos. I didn’t proofread. Check back next Sunday for another summary of this redlight life. In the meantime, you can read more Bangkok-centric stuff on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Slideshows from previous blogs going back several years can be found at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
My buddy Jack and I host a growing Facebook community with lots of nightlife-related content at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/thaiagogo
and I’ve got a small but robust group of pervs posting photos daily at a group called Super Hot Asians here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/374120690195407
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily monger material, along with these other profiles that’re chock full of photos of hotties:
@superhotthais
@BangkokNightli2
If you’re feeling generous, you can leave a tip on any of the above X profiles. All proceeds will go to creating more redlight content for you.
Thai chick-related artwork can be purchased at https://www.etsy.com/shop/ThailandNights
And until next time fellow BK Bukowskis and Bathshebas, keep your balls (or tits) warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: Expats should be warned—have your visa ducks in a row. Thai Immigration are harassing foreigners with many pages of Thailand entry stamps in their Passports. I don’t know why, but someone high up in the chain has instructed lowly officers to flag people who visit Thailand a lot. In my view, it’s just another example of the country shooting itself in the foot. At the same time, the process for getting a visa is now more complicated, convoluted, and flawed (I applied for an E-Visa on 29 November and it still hasn’t been processed).
