What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is my weekly confession. I can’t speak for you, reader, but this old whoremonger can’t help feeling a deep sense of dread whilst watching the rest of the world inch toward World War 3. All we can do—we helpless expats, we squirrels just tryin’ for nuts—is watch from afar. Let’s hope our dream of escaping the madness by hiding in a tiny tropical corner of the world comes true, although as we speak that flimsy comfort is threatened. War is brewing in our backyard as well, with China running boy-cried-wolf drills around Taiwan, prompting the US to send over a bunch of warships. I guess, smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, friends. Who knows if we’ll even wake up tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I’m nearing a crossroads. For the past year or so, I’ve felt the pull of Ptown—as in, permanent relocation to the beach. Of bidding farewell to Bangkok and heading for self-exile in Sin City. Of hanging up my Patpong spurs in favor of flip-flops and the seedy, sultry beer bars and famed Walking Street gogos of Babylon by the Sea. Because let’s face it, the BK redlight scene is rather shoddy these days. And one can only monger in the same place for so long before it becomes redundant. For me, that ‘so long’ was exactly 15 years. As Tim Booth once sang, “More than a drug is what I need…need a change of scenery.” And what better scenery is there in TLOS than the loose, dirty side sois of Ptown and that view of Koh Larn in the distance?
In truth, the only reason I’ve lingered this long in the city is for the sake of my harem. They’ve stuck by me for ages, and I feel a sense of fidelity to them, inasmuch as I know they depend on me for rent money, and I don’t want to hang them out to dry. But the fact is, all concubines do eventually move on. Since 2011 or so when I first forayed into the life of a pimp, I’ve maintained a harem of between four and ten gals (by the way, four is not enough and ten is too many) who turned my wildest boyhood fantasies into reality. None of the girls I started out with are still around. Two have been with me for nine years. One’s been around for six, another for four, and the last for three. And they will all eventually go their own way as well. It’s the double-edge of this life. You can never hold on too tight. And the reverse is also true. They shouldn’t think I’ll be around forever. And when I do eventually immigrate beachward, I will feel guilty for the ones I leave in the lurch. But that’s not enough reason to put my life on hold. When you gotta go, you fucking gotta go.
If I’m even more honest, I’ve only really stayed for conc number 1. She is one hot piece of ass, and we are as sympatico in the bedroom as peanut butter and jam. But like I said, they all eventually move on. And why shouldn’t she? I found her a day after her 18th birthday, took her virginity, and it’s been nothing but weekly-scheduled debauchery since then. She’s asked me to commit many times and I’ve always said ‘no.’ Meanwhile, dudes trip over each other trying to get at her. One of these days she’ll find a boyfriend and our nearly decade-long tryst will be over.
And that’s how it should be. She’s just the most recent in a long line of number 1’s who’ve disappeared. The first was a skinny young thing named Sujita in Ao Nang, back in 2010. Ta was my first exposure to the kind of sweetness and comfort a Thai girl could provide. At the time, due to my inexperience I thought the traits were unique to her so I latched on pretty tight. It was only later that I realized nearly all Thai women provided the same comforts. She was my weekend girlfriend, and she stuck with me for two years. Then one day she said she found someone younger and more handsome. I deleted her from my phone and moved to Phuket a week later. A few years afterward she found me on Facebook and tried to mend things. I blocked her without a reply. For a year in Phuket I had Em—the most physically beautiful woman I’ve ever laid hands on. But she was batshit crazy, and her incessant jealousy finally imploded our romance. Ironically, she was the only one I remained monogamous with. Then I moved to BK and fell in with the crew at Electric Blue. Ploy became my new number 1. The way I’d describe Ploy is, she was like if a kitten transformed into a human that you could fuck. She stayed for six years, until a Thai guy knocked her up and she moved to Rayong. Then it was Bow from The Strip, a chick that was so hot it defied logic. She let me do whatever I wanted to her without a word of complaint. She lasted four years, but inevitably found an actual farang boyfriend. Oil stepped up to replace her and stayed in the top spot for three of our eight total years servicing each other. Then she got a Thai boyfriend and disappeared, and the current lass—who really should’ve been number 1 from the jump-off—took her rightful place at the top of the heap. She’s told me she will never leave, and I’m sure she believes that now. But she’s young, and a woman’s goals change with age. So knowing her exit from the stage is inevitable, I am left with the choice of fishing or cutting bait. In fact, I’m doing both.
Somewhat counterintuitively, I’ve been trolling the gogos and online dating sites for new Bangkoncubines. I currently have four new gogo dancers on four separate hooks, trying to reel them all in simultaneously, whilst spending my days on Tinder and ThaiFriendly in both BKK and Ptown, looking for hoes who want a benefactor, trying to cover both locations. If I can acquire two or three more concs in BK, I might stick around, depending on their talents. All that is to say, I haven’t pulled the trigger on staying or going just yet. But if I stay put, I’ll need new blood in the harem. If I can’t acquire it, then it’s off to the beach.
In case you don’t already know, reader, the online chick scene is dire. At least, if you’re a picky motherfucker like me. My eyes only see 8s and 9s (10s are a waste of energy), so the pickings are understandably slim. I get 10 emails a day from portly middle-aged balding women while struggling to catch the attention of superhot 20-year-olds. It’s frustrating, I’m not gonna lie.
In addition, I did monger a little bit last week…
On Monday, concubine number 4 came over for a quickie and then I Ponged. She was an hour late, so I didn’t get streetside till 22.00. Regarding the sale of Marijuana in Thailand, for the record I’m glad for it, mainly because it provides a means for me to get looped on the dry Buddha days. And it’s a boon for the Thai economy. But goddam does it ever attract the low end of the social order. Between my condo and the night market there are three 7-11s and six weed shops. Between buying bangs of Cheetos and ganja, the streets are lousy with dirty hippies from every corner of the earth. My least favorite of this ilk are the hippie goths, or hoths for short. They sport dingy hemp garb with black Doc Martins and resemble Vikings that would rather hit a full moon party than pillage a village.
Offy sat with me in K1, much to the chagrin of the short haircut girl who looked on with daggers for eyes. For some reason we were a point of interest for several dancers who just sat watching us for 15 straight minutes. Offy kept trying to shove her hand down the front of my trousers. I got up to give a hundy to short-hair and she did the same. I think it’s the gogo equivalent of dogs pissing on a tree. They’re just trying to mark their territory.
In K2, the half dozen or so superhotties that work there were MIA. I wondered if they’d been barfined already. It might’ve become one of those bars where smart nipons get in early and scoop up the best clunge in the first 10 minutes. As if to confirm, an old Japanese dude hobbled in, jumped on his Line, and began frantically messaging the girl he’d hoped was there. She didn’t respond, likely because she was uterus-deep with someone else’s wang. Two American noobs sat in the back, molesting a couple of girls as though they’d never physically touched a female before. And judging from the culture in America these days, they probably hadn’t.
In New2 I had over the girl I’m grooming for my harem. She was so out of it on ketamine I wasn’t sure she’d remember me, but she did. I massaged her minge (mingessage for short) for a good 20 minutes and then pivoted to K Corner where I received lots of unwanted attention from newbies who mistook me for a sex tourist. Then I skipped over to Virgin for wais from strangers. Nat is looking particularly fuckable lately. Not sixpack-abs fuckable like she was when she danced at Twister post-Covid lockdown, but still pretty hot. A farang couple sat down, and it seemed clear it was the dude’s idea to be there. The clam was noticeably uncomfortable and her beau was no-so-secretly trying to strong-arm her into a threesome. And if I were him, I would, too—the white gal was quite simply atrocious. They got a girl over and the dude sat back while the lasses got acquainted. It was then that I realized the whole affair might’ve been the ugly faram’s idea. The Thai girl understood her job instantly and began rubbing on the ugly Caucasian clam (clamcasian for short) in hopes of wearing her down. It seemed to work, because the white chick embraced her like driftwood after a shipwreck and the dude began kissing her, ostensibly in hopes of igniting her loins. It became clear that the plan was to bring the Thai girl home for the benefit of the ugly white girl, and the dude was meant to not take part in any of it. I resisted the urge to vomit and trained my attention on the stage. I’m not opposed to foreigners experimenting on their Thai holiday, the same as I don’t object to soi dogs eating out of the garbage. I just don’t want to see it.
As I strolled up a side soi on my way to patpong on Friday, a solo sex tourist burst out the front of his budget hotel and strobe put ahead of me at what one might call a horny pace. His multiple layers of cologne created a cloud behind him like a vape trail and I nearly choked. He had on a tight black tshirt and his best salmon colored bermuda shorts, loafers and no socks, and stormed into the pong like a man on a mission.
I slid into my usual seat in K1, ready to defend off Offy’s advances, but she wasn’t there. Neither was short-hair girl, and that’s the catch-22 of hitting king’s early. A lot of the girls show up late, but by then there are no seats. And so there was nary a minge to massage at that time. If I wanted to tackle a clit I’d have to come back later or switch bars. But for the moment, it felt good to just sit and relax in the gogo without any extra closing or obligatory pleasantries. Jar–the chick in K2 who rejected my harem invite–passed by on her way to clock in. I Trumped her (grabbed her by the puss) and she bit my arm. I always wonder what randos think when they see exchanges like that, and they happen a lot with me and various gogo clams. It must seem pretty bizarre to them.
There’s a stupidly large number of superhotties in the four king’s bars these days. I just scoot between them, pinching clips and tweaking ripples. I’ve lost count of how many lashes I’m trying to bash in each bar. It’s a clusterfuck of clunge. It’s a clungesterfuck.
Virgin is a bastion of redlight veterans from the last half decade. I don’t think there’s a new face in the bunch. They’re all hold-overs from previous bars, mostly Glamour, Bada Bing, The Strip, XXX Lounge, and Black Pagoda. I like seeing familiars, but Lord have mercy I’d rather whack off than hit one of those busted minges. They’re all sweethearts, don’t get me wrong. Sweethearts with busted minges. Nevertheless, I did initiate the first steps of corralling a little blonde butterface into a potential harem slot. I don’t think there’s a more majestic creature on Earth than the butterface. A pretty woman is a headache. But a clam with a 10 body and barely tolerable face is God’s gift to the pimp daddy. Because when you want to ride a roller coaster, you don’t give a fuck about the paint job. Just gimme those loop-de-loops.
In other news, to my great delight, the news reported tourist reservations for Songkran are down 25% this year, due to the earthquake. I guess nothing short of another pandemic could reduce it to zero. As it is, I’ll not be leaving my apartment between the 13th and 15th.
This week’s Members Only Gallery is a couple of video montages starring a handful of the hottest dancers ever to burn up a Bangkok gogo stage. The link is here: https://bangkokseven.com/members-only-gallery-video-compilations-of-patpong-super-stars/
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.
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: Songkran is just a few days away. If you’re a local, you should stock up on food, water, booze, and toilet tissue so you can hunker down without worry. Good luck, everyone.
