What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is my weekly confession.
By this time next week, the United States will be in a state of chaos. Either the election will have fallen apart due to too many behind-the-scenes attempts to rig it, or Trump will win and the Establishment will physically attack the populace, or Kamala will win, ushering the West into world war. But I think it’ll take China at least a few months to take over Thailand and put us farang into gulags. So enjoy life while you can, friends. I’m doing my best to squeeze in as much redlight time as possible before the world ends.
Tuesday I was set to stay in after a visit from my longest suffering conc (10 years, from Electric Blue) but then Jack Nites messaged to say he was onPong, so out I scampered.
The local Cheap Charlie that lurks around the 3 Kings and leering at the girls was on site, sipping an outside glass of Leo draft because its only 90b. He can’t go into the gogo with an outside draft so he stood in the doorway with one foot in and one foot out. Later, he walked off toward K Corner with the glass of beer still in hand. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wannabe monger stretch his baht further than this guy.
VirginX was off to a slow start. It was just Nat beckoning me inside with one finger from the stage. I pivoted to Virgin, where half the rota was new and the other were vets from The Strip and Radio City. The hungry-eye stare from newbies continues….I wonder if it’s because I offered spots in my harem to a couple of girls while in a drunken haze last month. Maybe word got around and got the randos riled up. Unfortunately for them, the vetting process for a new conc is rigorous, and most don’t warrant an ask. That said, it doesn’t hurt to window shop.
New2 had a gang of new girls but my eye was drawn to a lass from the now-closed Kiss Bar who I nailed once. She has a magnificent body. Like the sexual version of an amusement park ride. Too bad she’s inept at making it fun. I remember climbing on top of her long, lithe body and going to town, only to realize she was not participating. After a few minutes, I gave up and had her finish with mouth service, which was only slightly better than her coital failures. Needless to say I never had her back. But watching her move that near perfect bod onstage is quite special. For a second I thought, maybe I’d I bend her over the kitchen sink, or handcuff her to the bed post. But it’s just wishful thinking. She’s a dud in the sack, and that’s all there is to it. Shame.
The same happened in k corner, where a one-time fuck latches onto me like a lamprey to a shark. Her body is amazing. Petite and fierce with inexplicably big boobs. I banged her once and never will again. It’s tragic how many hotbody gogo dancers suck ass in bed. There should be a school lole in the black widow movie except instead of training lady assassin’s they should teach hot dumb chicks how to fuck properly. I put a hundy in her drawers and pinched her minge anyway, like a good monger should. Then for shits n giggles I checked out k1 where I lucked into a good seat. There was so much good clunge it was hard to concentrate.
Midweek I had to Pong, because a conc came over and I knew I’d promised to cover her rent but I forgot to swing by the ATM, so I had to leave with her so I could get her cash, and once I’m out the door I’m out. But it was only 7 pm, so I went for a tide-me-over pilsner at G’s. A party of eight frogs came in, and Guido asked me to move to a corner to make room for them, which I of course did. When I finished my beer and got up to leave, he insisted I try a new featured cocktail he’s calling a spritzer. I don’t know what was in it but it tasted like a mild, sparkling version of a long island iced tea.
Then I moved on to the King’s terrace where I had the misfortune of sitting next to two 30something American tourist dudes. I was instantly reminded of what I hate about Americans. The cliche is true, they talk too loudly. And these dudes did the quintessential “talking only about themselves and how much money they make.” Then I realized the loudest lout was speaking English with a clear British commonwealth accent. Then the other one belted out a different but equally Anglo-ish accent, complete with the annoying quirks attributed to Yanks. I was floored. But I guess there are uncouth, low-IQ narcissists everywhere.
Later, I saw a group of six Nipons try to skip out on their very large checkbin. Or maybe they just forgot. Then I found a spot inside, and not 5 minutes later, witnessed 2 nipons brazenly walk out on their bin. Frankly I’m shocked that a culture rife with manners and courtesy (and wealth) would be so cuntish. For the second time on the night, i got moved from a seat. This time it was in k1, to make room for a gang of nipons. I wanted to say, why? They’re just going to skip out on the bin.” But instead I smiled and said, of course. A douchey yank went up to order a beer at the bar, which is a thing you don’t do in the gogo. He handed the barmaid a 500, so she pointed at it and held up 5 fingers to get confirmation that he hadn’t handed her 1,000. It’s a common tourist scam to hand over 500 and then later claim it was a grand. He looked confused. He was even mote confused when the barmaid left the bar to walk round to the cashier for the change. I get that it can be frustrating to wait for servers on a busy night, but only locals like me can order from the bar without creating a kerfuffle.
As I paid and went to leave, Offy appeared. “Seven, stay and buy me a drink.” She grabbed my junk and I reciprocated by massaging her minge. She shrieked and babbled something about not making her horny at work. A passing barmaid busted into hysterics. I put a hundy in Offy’s bra and bailed to New2 where the gals were decked out in red lingerie and 90% were new faces. Either the turnover is high or they’re gathering a huge roster.
It was neon colored bikini night in Virgin, with lots of new gals as well. Two attempted the tour-lure on Seven and failed. One lass shouted, “Seven, ow luk ohm” meaning she wanted me to buy lollipops for the staff. I guess you can add Candyman to my list of Patpong nicknames along with Baron Von Pong and he-who-grabs-pussies. I unzipped my fly and said she could suck on whatever candy she found in there. She laughed, and I kept a straight face until she got uncomfortable. Then I tickled her ladybits and went to find a seat.
In the spot next to me, a bearded bespectacled American cuck was experiencing sticker shock after buying drinks for 2 girls and barfining one. ‘Twas a bill he’d definitely be putting on his Mastercard and paying off for the next couple of months. His barfine was a skin-and-bones filly to whom I regularly give food money, as she looks malnourished. I can’t imagine what the intercourse must be like. All boner and bones. I suppose.
VirginX is coming into its own, with a couple of rotas that borrow less and less from the original. That’s not to say girls don’t skate back and forth between them, but it’s looking like the owner wants a stable of steady girls that are unique to each bar. Which is better for mongers who want to hit two gogos and not see the same girls twice. A staffer asked if I’d been to the first virgin and whether they had customers (both bars had the same number of punters) as if he couldn’t just walk 20 meters and see for himself. Who knows, maybe he can’t. I did notice that some nipunters (nipon punters) were taking advantage of VX’s dark corners. It’s easy to have a girl over to a shadowy booth and get up to all kinds of naughtiness in there.
On Saturday I had the number 1 conc over so as to temporarily abate her insatiable appetite for sex, and then motaxi’d to Cowboy, where I can pretend to be a tourist for half the time. I sidled up to Dollhouse during a very Rubenesque rota.
I’m really missing the old Thai minimart on Soi Cowboy. After half a kamag I really needed some Advil. Now you have to either hike out to 7-11 or just kill it with booze. I opted for the latter. Three 40something dudes made a beeline for the girl on the side stage pole and began putting bills in her g-string like they were in a Reno titty bar. Then a farang couple entered and sat down right next to me. The man put his arm around the lass and pulled her in tight, mumbling in her ear. No doubt they were assurances that he was unaroused. They spoke what sounded like Russian, and didn’t behave like a couple who’d known each other long. In fact, they acted more like two strangers on a first date. Talk about brass balls, taking a chick to a gogo bar right out the gate. It’s either a pantry dropper or a cooter stopper.
I waited for the rotation, hoping for some slimmer trim, but was denied. Then I had to decide whether to go straight to Rainbow where Bee, if she was working at all, wouldn’t have even clocked in yet, or divert to a gogo I had no interest in gogo-ing to. After a few hostesses grabbed at me in vain, I ended up walking robotically to rainbow, where I was wai’d and hugged by a former Strip dancer who will forever love me for buying her dinner every night of 2021.
Rainbows stage was sparse, which is the nightly norm before 21.00. One rotund filly was the biggest gogo dancer I’ve ever seen, and after 14 years in country, that’s saying something. She was a beast. I’d put her at 190 lbs (86 kg). Suffice to say, she didn’t move around much. Her dance routine consisted of a lot of bent arm swings and not much else. And look, I know some guys like a big gal. I just wish 99% of them weren’t on the same track. The biggest (no pun intended) blow to the Thai redlight scene wasn’t the recession or tinder or covid. It was the nationwide normalization of processed food.
When Bee hadn’t appeared by 21.15 I bailed to Long Gun to do my new ritual there, which is to sit on the terrace and smoke with all the hot girls whilst the naked fatties prance around onstage. Beers are up to 200b there, so this new routine will likely end sooner rather than later. But the view outside easily beats the dozen Michelin man minges rolly-pollying about inside the bar.
A brave 5 sauntered over to bum a mini cherry cigar. I obliged, and she put it in her bra for later. Another dancer came up and started babbling about “This is Seven, he buys candy for the girls in Patpong.” An old yank with a military haircut came out and started whooping and hollering, trying to talk at the girls in Tinglish. I asked my cigar moocher if he was drunk. She said, “No, he’s just crazy.” She asked me where I would go next. I didn’t have an answer. I knew I should stay on the soi and look around some more. Bee messaged to say she was stuck home with her newborn. I asked my unwanted companion when her next dance rotation was. She looked at her watch and said 40 minutes. I nearly fell off the stool. She explained that the naked marshmallow ladyshows take up most of the time, and the fit bikini girls for just 10-minute rotas in between. No wonder I only ever saw flabbies when I went in there. I guess it makes sense, though. Most punters go there for the nude chubsters.
I popped in to cowboy2 and was immediately tackled by a former black pagoda dancer who, like the Grinch’s heart on ch4istmas, had grown three sizes since I saw her last. Vodka sodas are 165, so they’re doing something right. I barfined someone out of there in 2011, and though I can’t remember her face, I know she was a fun bedfellow, and a post-coital snuggler, which is a thing I find revolting today, but back then was like a balm on my wounded psyche.
Hungry eyes shot looks at me like hooks on a line, and i suddenly remembered how easy it was to shorttime in cowboy. All you have to do is smile back, and that minge’ll reel you in like a carp.
After cowboy2, I want4d to try one more. But I’m intermittent fasting, and hadn’t 4aten for 36 hours so my liver needed a break. Plus the only real option was Bad Beach, where former Patpongers would swarm me like flies on shit. So I motaxi’d t’Pong instead. Driving past Bangkok One, Thailand’s first 15-minute city, I noticed it has opened already as a kind of leviathan shopping mall. It’s unclear how long it will take to instill it as its own self-contained city in the minds of Bangkokians.
In the pong, I had the post kamag heartburn like a motherfucker so went looking for Gaviscon. In a pharmacy thar doubled as a currency. A dude with a recent barfine was trying to buy a 75b packet of KY with a 100 euro note. It was fucking hilarious. The cashier put him through the ringer, checking and rechecking the bill for authenticity. He grew sweatier by the minute, mumbling under his breath how he’s never had an exchange problem before. Finally the clerk accepted the money and the pair eagerly scampered away, the dude anticipating a world-class copulating, the girl excited for rent money. It turned out the rest of the hundy was for the barfine at VirginX, so a lot was riding on a smooth (KY notwithstanding) transition. In the end, he paid everyone off and exited the gogo with is poon prize, on his way to make a memory that’ll last a lifetime. Sometimes I need a reminder like that. I’m so used to this patriarchy and it’s many clunge-related benefits that I forget the plight of the rest of the men in the world. It warms my heart that an incel can jump a plane to another hemisphere and climb into bed with a goddess unlike anything he’s ever seen, and experience the kind of coupling that every amygdala longs for, in a way that alters one’s DNA and connects us to our ancient ancestors who plowed their conquests in caves. Except in TLOS, you can do it in an air-conditioned hotel room with a view of Sukhumvit.
VX had two rotations of 10. Half of them knew me. The other half pressed for drinks. I polished off one vodka and bailed, but while on site I spotted three gals I wouldn’t kick out of bed.
Outside Virgin, I ran into a girl who I’ve been trying to nail for months. She’s been MIA from the pole for weeks, so I asked where she went off to. As she spoke, I noticed a fever blister on her lower lip, and the dream instantly died. I spouted some vague pleasantries and dove into the gogo, mentally crossing her off my to-do list forever.
Yok has been absent from the gogo all week, giving dozens of chicks an opening to make a run at Seven. It’s been exhausting. I do occasionally get a wild butt hair for a new conc, but it passes in short time, especially when I get inundated with multiple harem dates in a matter of days. My current roster runs me ragged most of the time. Still, I often stare at a newhottie on a low-lit stage, and wonder.
After 6 cocktails on an empty stomach, I was ready to pass out. But quitting’s for pussies, so I swung round to the K1 terrace for a wee beer and Chivas. I don’t remember much except that three gals came out to share my table, and I think I fell asleep for a bit. And that was how I bookended the week.
This week’s Members Only Gallery is a series of video clips from inside King’s 1 in 2016ish. The link can be found here: https://bangkokseven.com/members-only-gallery-some-in-gogo-videos/
but only if you become a Member. The price tag 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:
@bar_thigh
@BangkokNightli2
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: Thailand is a foodie paradise, but it’s also a haven for parasites. If you’ve been here for more than a couple of months, you’ve likely eaten some delicious street fare that has planted tiny beasties in your gut. Many Thais take a de-wormer once a year or biannually. It’s not a bad idea for aging expats to do the same. Personally, I take a daily probiotic that has significantly improved my digestive system. I highly recommend it. Pop one pill before bed each night. You won’t regret it.
