What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is what I found in my phone’s notepad at the end of the week…
Winter in Thailand officially ended on 22 February, and by the 1st of March, it was evident. A steamy sheen of hot dank lay over Ptown by night that coated the public in sweat. I congratulated myself for not buying a blanket as I folded up the beach towels that adorned my bed since December. It’s going to be a hot summer, folks.
Similar to last week, I’m waist-deep in a rut of doing as little as possible. The current routine is wake up at 7 or 8, walk on the beach for a couple hours, go home and work for three hours, watch something on Netflix, nap until 18.00, wake up, go to 7-11 for vodka and snacks, pop a CBD gummy, and watch YouTube till 01.00. I only got out for a couple of nights, yet again. At the moment, I’m suffering from a combination of contentment, laziness, and boredom, which probably means I should head back up to Bangkok for a few days to cleanse the palate and reset. At any rate, here’s how the week shook out…
At the start of the week I headed to Walking Street with a singular goal—to talk to the superhottie in Pin-Up from the week before. She wasn’t there, but in her stead were half a dozen 9s and 10s. Nipons snapped most of them up after the first rotation, but the second and third revealed five more excellent specimens. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating. Pin up has the best-looking girls on WS, and possibly all of Ptown.
Then I went straight to XS looking for Natti. There was only one open seat at 20.30. I had virtually no hope of spotting her in that menagerie of minge. Instead I was mesmerized by a slew of other slash. The craziness of the atmosphere in there is enough to make one’s head spin. Rich Nipons barfined girls left and right. Groups of dudes popped bottles and entertained six girls at once, seemingly unfazed by with how not-hot they were….and that’s not unusual in the Thai redlight. So many bros come here from lives where the touch of a woman—any woman—is just a dream. So when they get here, any old slag will do. It’s not until they realize they can get smoke shows here that their sense of self-worth skyrockets past realism.
In Shark I watched an old Nipon stand up and nonchalantly walk out on his checkbin. Three minutes later a barmaid cleared his beer and bin like nothing happened. They must be doing so well that the odd drink–dasher doesn’t faze them. There were four 8s in there, and watching them shake their moneymakers gave me a semichub. In addition, there are several gals in there that are the opposite of a butterface, meaning they’re quite fetching from the neck up, but their bodies look like they were fashioned from Play-doh by a four-year-old.
In Click, I was getting hypnotized by the array of ass when suddenly I locked eyes with a petite thing onstage who had that “I know you” look on her face. It turned out to be an old galpal from Patpong whom I regularly drank with a decade ago. After her rota she scampered over and sat down. “So long not see you. You remember me?” I responded by saying her name and she giggled and clapped her hands. “Pink Panther,” I said. “Yes, but before that Electric Blue,” and I said, “Holy shit, that’s right.” Then she launched into a monologue about me and my first Number One concubine in Thailand, a girl from EB called Wan. She went on and on about me and her, how cute it was that Wan would spend all her off-rota time sitting with me in the gogo, how I used to continue playing the game on her phone for her while she danced. She said she thought the two of us might end up together, like, monogamally. I told her Wan got knocked up by her Thai boyfriend and moved to Rayong. Then she shifted the conversation to herself, explaining she’d been off the pole for four years thanks to the benefactory support of several farang boyfriends. She said she also had an OnlyFans but was having trouble finding guys who were willing to be filmed while shagging her. Then she looked long and deeply into my eyes. To break the silence, I said, “Well, uh, if you need somebody…” then she cut in and said “OK, thank you” and that was the end of the conversation. Then she grabbed my phone, opened Facebook, found her profile and added herself—which as you know is a no-no in the gogo. Maybe since she’s been out of the game for a while, she wasn’t informed about the rule. After that I was properly smashed and so Bolted home and crashed.
In morning walk news, I keep having to get up earlier and earlier to avoid the heat. Still, there’s a set of old farang who’re up and drinking daily. I call them the Crazy 8s, because they’re buzzed by 8 am every day. There’s also a contingent of horndogs who’re out looking for gash at that hour, which is insane to me because the only thing on offer in the morning are the fat, 50something freelancers that lounge along the Beach Road. I passed one such heifer who’d locked arms with a Sino dressed in golf gear. The only part of the conversation I could catch was her asking “How much you pay?” As I passed Soi 6 one morning, eight Nipons came rolling up to the Beach Road, all hacking up a lung at the same time. It was a symphony of coughing—a syncoughony, if you will. I don’t know why so many Japanese dudes have bronchitis. Is it the cigarettes?
After Thais, the second biggest group in the Buakhao Market at 08.30 are solo middle-aged white women. They’re on their post-divorce, eat-pray-love adventure and they decided to come to a country where they have no worth whatsoever in the culture, so they’re stuck taking selfies while sipping from a straw stuck in a coconut, to show their friends at home how much fun they’re having.
In some ways, mornings are my favorite time to be out in Ptown. The streets are often freshly-rinsed, there aren’t as many tourists, and the farang locals and Thais sort of meld together into one ilk. Whilst strolling on the boardwalk I found myself walking beside two silver-haired white dudes. One of them had a small poodle on a leash. We were all walking briskly until we caught up to a Thai lady in workout clothes, and then we adjusted our speed so as to not get too close and potentially make her feel uncomfortable. Minutes later, she crossed to the other side of the road. It’s not a great example of human cohesion, but it’s the one I got. Contrast that with a Chinese guy an hour earlier who seemed determined to walk in the exact footsteps that I was walking. It was so weird. I would’ve thought he was blind but he was barreling ahead at full steam. I had to stiff-arm him into the street to keep him from stepping on me.
Even in the mornings, there are too many tourists on the Beach Road for my liking. Nipons in groups of 10 block the pavement. Drunk revelers and ladyboys sit on stools, carrying on the drink from the night before. Farang couples walk earnestly here and there, seemingly without a destination and perpetually on the verge of a fight.
At 09.00 it was like someone rang a bell. Hundreds of 60something farang spilled out of their hotels all at once. Eight Koreans out for breakfast chose, of all the places in town, a Korean restaurant. There’s nothing wrong with a UK expat having a breakfast bap or Sunday carvery now and again. But if you just flew 4,000 miles and you’re here for a week, maybe don’t have the same exact food you’d be eating if you stayed home. Branch out.
The craziest morning demographic has to be the blafrican prostitutes, or blafritutes for short, copyright BKK7. I guess dudes must fuck ’em, cuz they’re here and obviously surviving. Seeing them makes me want to throw up, and that’s not a racist statement. I revile white women just as much.
I spotted several fat, shirtless old dudes with bright pink bellies, pouring sweat as they chugged back and forth along the beach. I commend it. Anybody who’s trying to extend his life by fighting obesity on its terms deserves a pat on his sunburnt back.
On Friday I swept The 6 for drinking buddies and future possiconcs. Stop 1 was Meena’s bar. She said she’d be taking a week off to visit her mum so I had to buy her a couple ladydrinks. Just like the week before, two dudes had their tongues in the mouths of a coupla chunkers. One farang and one Sino. Like I said before, I understand the appeal. If you don’t get kissed at home, you wanna get some tonsil hockey in during your Thailand sex odyssey. I’ve been weaned off kissing by 16 years of Thai culture, where locking lips fits like a square peg in a round hole.
Nadear seemed to not remember the previous week when I bit her elbow too hard. She cuddled up to me like a kitten, and I nearly sprang a boner. She was so sweet, I almost barfined her. But then I snapped back to my senses. Sex was not in the cards that night. I still had to hit Walking Street.
Navigating The 6 is a shit show now that everyone recognizes me. They take turns either waiing or trying to pull me inside, but not like they do with tourists. With a local, it’s more of a polite tap on the shoulder or half-hearted tug. And trying to remember the name and bar of every possiconc on my list has gotten way out of hand. There are 15 chicks in a note on my phone. I have to stop every 10 feet to read which slag is in this or that bar. It’s taken the fun out of going there.
I got yanked into one bar by two chicks who I apparently know, Guitar and Bam-Bam. 23 and 27 respectively, from Isaan. They’re a pair of wild wenches. They kept trying to get me to go upstairs for a threesome. If I’d shaved my balls, and if I wasn’t already slightly hammered, I might’ve tried. But at my age if I’m not properly medicated I could never pull off railing two slags in one go. I’m about a decade past my prime.
Trucking to Walking Street was a chore because the goddam Pattaya Music Festival was on. It meant shitty concerts on the beach, plus lane closures for 2/3 of the way. It was a goddam mess. I went straight to XS to look for Natti…all I remember about our previous encounter was, she’s slim brown, and beautiful, with a spider tattoo. That describes approximately 60 dancers in that gogo, so I gave up after 20 minutes of fruitless searching and instead enjoyed the sea of tits and ass that are regularly on display like pornographic works of art. That joint’s a Louvre of lasciviousness.
Chick had two full rotas of newgash. My Patpong galpal was MIA, but the view of the stage more than made up for her absence. Two separate solo sex tourists came in. They were both conventionally handsome and under 25. The barmaids fawned over them. The Thai security guards laughed at them, because they had no clue how to pull minge. It never ceases to amaze me how many dudes come to Thailand and fail at getting laid. I’m sure they figure it out eventually but so many crash and burn at the start. There should be a YouTube tutorial that shows the noobs how to shorttime.
In Pin-Up I searched for the superhot half-farang lass, but couldn’t locate her. Instead I found Pin, my old fave. If the half breed is a 10, and she is, then Pin’s a strong 9. I placed a hundy down the front of her bikini bottoms while she squealed with a mixture of delight and embarrassment.
As it happened, I left Pin-Up with three minutes to spare before the end of happy hour so I skipped across to Eden, another of the Pin-Up cartel’s gogos, for a fast vodka. It’s mostly big girls in there, but everyone’s visibly, openly down to fuck. Then I slipped into Shark for a 105b Black Label and coke. There are no 9s or 10s in there, but the vibe is straight pornographic. You could hit a 7 or 8 and feel like a goddam porn star. Those chicks are dirtysexy.
At the end of the week, Ptown conc number one messaged to say she was going to visit her mum in Isaan and could she come over for a shag and some bus money. I didn’t feel like shagging, but I knew she’d make me feel guilty for not helping her out, so I begrudgingly agreed to lend her my wang for five minutes. Such is the burden of a Thailand whoremonger. He must keep his harem happy, and get balls-deep on an afternoon even when he’d rather relax and watch YouTube. If you’re reading this from somewhere in the West, that might not sound like a problem to you. But those are the kinds of problems one has here in TLOS. I hope you will at least try to empathize.
In other news, I nearly died while having sex last week. Normally, I try to get the deed over with as quickly as possible, and coinciding with my age, my performance time has shortened to match my lack of enthusiasm. But when it comes to my number one Ptown conc, I’ve started to want to keep it going just a tad longer, mostly because being next to her flawless body is a privilege. This has created a Scilla-Charybdis situation where I’m not in good enough shape to go much longer than I already do. So adding time to the experience has to be somewhat surgical. Anyway, I got this stuff off Lazada that’s supposed to numb your wang for a spell so you can hammer on for a longer time. The problem last week was, I applied too much of it. So 10 minutes into coitus with conc one, as I was sweating and hyperventilating. I had to pull her on top for the crescendo, just so I could rest, and while she bounced on my stick like a kid in a bouncy castle, I momentarily blacked out. For years now, I’ve joked with friends that I knew I’d die in this way, that the cops would find my corpse days later with a tiny dead bar girl trapped beneath me. At least with her on top, I wouldn’t take her down, too. But then I woke up, with her still going like the Energizer bunny, and made it over the finish line, wheezing and choking. Clearly, morning walks are not sufficient exercise if I want to keep fucking on the reg. This sad sack of suck needs to up his game.
In other “end of the world” news, the US attacked Iran last week and the culture engineers have fallen into one of three camps. Camp 1—Iran’s regime was bad and Trump took out the leadership, so that’s good. Camp 2—Trump is the devil for bombing a country without Congressional approval. Camp 3—why is the US doing Israel’s bidding? Camp 3 is retarded. I’m not pro-Isreal. They are cunts. But it’s a misdirect. Trump didn’t attack Iran on behalf of Israel. Trump attacked Iran because in 1997, the Project for a New American Century made a list of countries whose central banking systems were not tied to the Bank of International Settlements, which is the bank that controls all the money in Europe and the Americas (minus Brazil). In order to move forward with a global digital currency, every holdout nation must be forced to join. Iran is one of those countries, along with China, Syria, Brazil, and Russia, plus Lebanon, Somalia, and Sudan. So when you wonder why the US invaded Syria and is on the verge of war with China and Russia, wonder no longer. Brazil will be an easy get. The CIA will send an economic hitman down there, so they won’t be a problem. So as we mongers watch our Thai sunsets and cup the tits of nubile 20 year olds, remember this: we’re well out of the way of world war, thank Buddha, so the global one-world neo-feudal totalitarian state won’t rain on our parade until all the holdout countries’ banks are linked to the BIS. So we got that going for us.
Then again, someone just announced that a planet-sized craft is heading toward us and will enter our solar system by late 2026 or 2027. This is also a lie, but it’s a psy-op that signals the establishment of a global government. All that is to say, if we suddenly see China’s economy collapse and an EMP knock out all the power in Russia, start sipping your Leo faster, and pull the trigger on that Soi 6 threesome you’ve been dreaming about.
For any old Members who miss my photo albums, or for anyone wanting an eyeful of redlight content, it’s been brought to my attention that the link to Members Only Content on my homepage is broken. Bear with me while I try to fix it, though fair warning—I’m internet retarded, so it might take a while.
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/ and I promise to post new stuff over there soon.
Slideshows from previous blogs and the redlight scene 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.
And until next time fellow beach 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: If you’re like me and you hated last week’s Pattaya Music Festival, get ready. This weekend is the Holi Festival, so stock up on beer and TV dinners so as to avoid going out in that shit storm. If you’re in BK and planning a trip to Ptown, hold off. It’s going to be haka-laka Hell for a few days.
