Sex Tourist Ch. 11-12

Chapter 11.

Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Blow-Job Lips and Elastic Arses.

At ten, Trevor was at the reception of Sunset Garden.

"If you will wait a while, Sir, when there is a checkout, then the room will be serviced," the receptionist told him.

"And, what time is checkout?"

"Twelve o'clock, Sir."

"Can I leave my bag and come back at one-o'clock?"

She took his bag and Trevor took a trike back to Field's, and was dropped at Margarita Station.

Through the door to the right, there was a large, round-cornered bar bubbling out from the wall, and a couple of pool tables to the left. Along the frontage, were stools where customers could sit and watch the dusty street life through the mosquito screen. Waitresses buzzed busily, and a shout from the pool tables occasionally irrupted over the subdued chatter of idle conversation. As he walked further in, there was, down a few steps, a restaurant area and, behind it on the right, an open-to-view kitchen. To the rear of the building was a small, open-space with, on the other side, what appeared to be offices. The patrons consisted of the now familiar mix of dressed-down, middle-aged, worn males and much younger, prettier, petite, Filipina girls.

On the bar, he spotted a beer pump, and ordered a draft beer, which turned out to be deeply chilled San Miguel. From a rack of newspapers he took The Philippine Star. Inside the front page a feature on HIV and AIDS caught his attention and a small dark cloud appeared in his blue sky.

An hour before midday and I'm drinking beer, reflected Trevor, sinking the heady, refreshingly cold beer as he turned to the depressing analysis in the newspaper.

He had been aware of the Aids epidemic spreading out of Africa, afflicting gay communities, notably in the USA, and intravenous-drug-users. Being celibate, he had followed developments with passing interest. It was a distant concern, unlikely to affect him personally. This newspaper article reported one-thousand-seven-hundred confirmed cases of HIV in the Philippines, mostly transmitted male to male, or by use of needles. However, there was a residue of female sex workers who had contracted the disease. The article went on to suggest that the official figures showed only the tip of the iceberg, and by comparison with Africa and Thailand, calculated that there was an undocumented pandemic facilitated by government complacency. Filipino overseas workers returning from work in high-risk areas, seamen, and sex-tourists who travelled to the Philippines from other sex-tourism destinations in South America, the Caribbean and South East Asia, were fingered as potential sources of infection.

For a moment, a frisson, more chilling than his beer, passed through Trevor. In the last week, he had had unprotected intercourse with two of these sex workers. Both were a picture of health and vitality, this the reason he had chosen them, but he now remembered the dissuasive message of safe-sex campaigners:

'When you have sex with a partner, you have sex with every partner your partner ever had sex with.'

He recalled that Jake and Allyza had known one another; he called her "a bundle of fun," and Trevor did not need to ask what that fun was. He recalled that he lusted after Jolina, and would have had unprotected sex with her, just hours after Jake had enjoyed her. And, he remembered that, one day after his happy tryst with Allyza she was in the company of the long haired blond. Except that they travelled for sex, he knew nothing about either Jake or the blond.

Looking around the bar, he took a more than casual, interest in his fellows. Unlike the girls, they did not look fresh in from the field, a picture of health and vitality. They had been around. Many were loud and coarse. Many had the manner of chaotic ne'er-do-wells, reckless and unkempt, the sort of people who would travel to have sex, would resort to prostitutes at home, and would not consider safe-sex a priority. He wondered how many of this sort Allyza and Honey had had sex with, and how many, and what sort of partners these people would have had sex with. Crack-whores in California, and intravenous-drug-users in Hamburg, he guessed. Two fucks away from high-risk AIDS groups was not a comfortable degree of separation.

AIDS was his most feared Sexually-Transmitted-Disease (STD), but also the least common. The National Health Service would, for free, at a discreet clinic, without informing his doctor, trample to death any other infection with antibiotics. The article went on to point out that the prevalence of these other, centuries-old diseases, was much higher, evidencing a much higher rate of transmission. Trevor decided that on his return home he must pay a visit to the STD clinic. He resolved for the rest of his trip, to engage only in safe-sex.

Ordering another draft beer, he continued to read through the Philippine Star.

Without looking up, the guy on the next stool spoke loudly enough to carry to him,"Lunch over. Soon be time to head up Perimeter Road."

His English was good, with a German lack of inflection. He was a portly gentleman of about Trevor's age, with thinning, grey hair and metal-rimmed spectacles, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt over long trousers. Trevor glanced around to see if there could be any other intended recipient of this communication, and concluding there was not, responded sociably, "What's happening up Perimeter Road?"

"Well, that's where the action is in the afternoon; Is this your first time here?"

"Yes. This is my first trip to the Philippines; I've only spent a couple of days in Angeles."

"The bars in Fields are larger and more expensive. The best action is in the evening. On Perimeter, the action is in the afternoon, most open from about midday to ten or twelve. They are smaller and cheaper. The girls can be a bit riper, but also more likely to have those blow-job lips and elastic arses. That's the sort of girl I go for now. I'm sick of being burnt by all those cherry-girls in the Fields bars."

"So the girls are different on Perimeter?"

"More fun. Better value for money. And the bars are cosier."

"Like A Santos Street?" suggested Trevor.

"No. More a bargain-basement version of Fields Avenue. You can get your blow-job, but it is also a great place to fool around with the girls, they get a little bit more wild."

The mention of blow-job lips, elastic arses, and wildness pressed the same buttons as the newspaper article.

"I've just been reading this article about STD's, AIDS and all that," said Trevor, "How safe is it here?"

"I have had no problem. The girls have a check up every week, and I always use a condom, though the girls do not insist."

"Do they check for AIDS?"

"No, only for ordinary STDs, that is why it is best to use a condom, but, No risk ... No fun," the guy looked across at Trevor and grinned, "and, if you are not having fun ... what is the point of being alive?"

Another beer, and it was time to check-in. Trevor found himself upstairs at Sunset Garden, in a room off the balcony, overlooking the pool. He quickly changed, went for a swim and lay on a sun lounger. As he basked in the sunshine, feeling the afterglow of his lunchtime alcohol, that teasing expression, "blow-job lips and elastic arses," echoed seductively in his head.

'Why should this guy, much the same age as myself, feel entitled to the casual companionship of a girl with blow-job lips and an elastic arse, while for me, such things are forbidden, even in my dreams? That's what I should have written on my wish-list, 'blow-job lips and elastic arse.'

And, why were they forbidden to him? He was here in Angeles, and the only person who could forbid him these indulgences was himself. He consciously removed the prohibition, and set to imagining himself enjoying these taboo pleasures. His penis stiffened, and strained against his swimming trunks.

By half-past-three he had changed and on his way out.

Chapter 12.

Niftys, Analyn and Trevor's First Blow-Job Ever.

At the hotel exit, he turned right and walked up to the junction with Perimeter Road, where he bore left and continued upwards. Past the next junction, a smattering of bars were scattered up the road. Looking down the next side street, he could see three small bars clustered close together. Walking down, he chose the central one, Niftys, and entered.

Through the curtain, and down a couple of steps to his right, he entered a long thin bar. To the right was the stage, on which danced eight or ten girls in hanger blouses and tube dresses running from the bottom of their belly to the top of their thighs. At the stage, were bar stools and opposite the stage were stools either side of flying tables butting out from the wall. He took a seat at a table against the wall.

There were only two other customers in the bar, one sat further down, like Trevor, against the wall, and another, on a bar stool up against the stage.

The waitress took his order and made her way towards the back where he could see the bar, situated parallel with the stage against the same wall. He sat back to enjoy the music and look at the girls, and met many eyes casting furtive glances at him, hoping to elicit interest. When he did not respond to any particular girl, interest in him faded and the dancers returned to the guy sitting at the stage, who chatted stridently with them, in a broad Australian accent.

Clearly, he had had a few drinks and was enjoying himself and the girls were amused, exchanging banter with him. He was leaning forward and attempting to lift the dancers' skirts, and they were teasing him, lifting their skirts a few inches then pulling away. Eventually, he called loudly to Mama-San, who came over and exchanged a few words as he waved his arms extravagantly. She spoke to the girls. At the end of the number, Mama-San rang the bell, and drinks were brought for all of them. Before the music recommenced, they rolled their tube dresses up to their waist, below which they were now naked, and when the music started they danced this way with glass in hand. One by one, they moved to dance in front of him and he noisily expressed his appreciation.

Trevor also cast a keen eye over the line-up, and felt the excitement within him rise. He counted ten girls, of whom seven were shaven and three sported pubic hair. As his eyes wandered appraisingly from pubis to pubis Mama-San came over.

"Hello Sir, I am Mama-San, what is your name?"

"Trevor."

"Trevor, why don't you choose one of my lovely girls."

Trevor wanted to. He ran down the line up one more time. Some were more cleanly shaven than others, and wanting a shaven girl, he selected the two slickest, then looked up at their figures and faces.

"I'd like to buy a drink for ..." he paused momentarily in final consideration, " four from the right."

Mama-San turned, fluttered a hand and called, "Analyn." The girl looked at Trevor, smiled, and walked down to the steps, descended to the floor then came back up the bar to join him, her dress still rolled around her waist. As she approached, he was pleased to see that between her legs her pudenda was smooth and hairless, and evinced the dull, even sheen he had admired on Allyza and Honey.

Her smile was warm and he guessed she was about 25 and 5 ft tall.

Analyn called to the waitress and walked straight up to stand next to Trevor and wrapped an arm around him.

Mama effected the introductions, "This is Trevor ... and this is Analyn."

"Helloo Trevoor."

She greeted him in the sing-song Filipina accent and tone of instant intimacy that was now becoming familiar, and to which he was becoming addicted. The opening bar-girl patter was followed by smiling silences, and their attention was diverted by happenings further down the bar. After three numbers, the dancers had rolled their dresses down once more, though Analyn allowed hers to remain rolled up.

The Australian continued to enjoy himself noisily, and called down a small girl to join him. They grappled playfully for a while. Then the Australian called to Mama-San and paid her bar-fine. However, he did not take her from the bar to enjoy his prize, but continued to bounce her on his knee and exchange banter with the dancers.

As Analyn leaned against Trevor, she murmured to him, "Look, he give her boom-boom."

Trevor looked down the bar. Sure enough, the Australian had the girl sat in his lap and tilted against the bar with her dress up around her waist, and he was inserting his penis into her. The dancers gathered round in a noisy claque to watch. As the Aussie began to pump, the girl threw herself forward against his chest; he lifted her heels up onto his shoulders, clasped his arms round her back and began to bounce her up and down on his lap, to cheers from the girls. After a period of effort, he rested. Speaking loudly with the girl, he rearranged her. He reversed her, so now her forelegs rested over the bar and she laid back against his chest. He lifted her body with one arm and fumbled beneath her with his hand, aiming his penis. He lowered her, then once again gathered her legs in a hug into his arms and began to bounce her up and down once more.

The dancers shrieked and pointed. Analyn stood alert and exchanged words in Tagalog with a girl on stage. She then hurried down the bar, and peered closely into the Australian's lap.

She hurried back to Trevor, grabbed hold of him, and reported, excitedly, "Look, he give her boom-boom in the ass."

Trevor looked down the bar. The Australian had the little girl folded on his lap, his big hands griping her knees to her shoulders, lifting her up and down rhythmically. He grunted; the girl gasped; the dancers shrieked. As he approached his climax, he held her tight and steady and began to pump his thighs furiously, until he let out a loud "Ahhhhhh", then relaxed, as the dancers applauded. He held the girl, folded in his lap, and chatted animatedly with her for a few seconds, then lifted her off his penis, and set her down to sit on his lap.

A waitress handed her a tissue, and she dabbed at her arse while she continued to flirt.

"Boxi is a three-holer," Analyn told to Trevor.

"A three-holer?"

This expression was new to him.

"The mouth, the pussy, the ass."

Trevor suddenly felt the desire for a three-holer, "And you. Are you a three-holer?"

"No more. Just pussy and blow-job. In the ass hurt too much. My customer before hurt me."

Boxi was a nice looking girl of about 20. When Trevor had chosen Analyn he had discounted Boxi because she had a short, silky growth of pubic hair.

"Why doesn't she shave her pussy?" asked Trevor. "You look good, your pussy is very smooth. I like that."

"Thank you. It is my customer last night. He give me shave, so I am still smooth."

"I see. He did a good job."

"Feel."

Analyn took hold of his right hand and led it down to her pubis. He slid his hand up and down, appreciating the smoothness of her intimate skin. Analyn placed her hand on his and pushed down, between her thighs.

Leaning forward, she whispered, "Give me finger."

Trevor's heart pumped and he shuddered with excitement. Taking her shoulder and turning her side on to him, facing the wall, he enabled his hand to easily curl into her groin. He sought her pussy lips and pushed his forefinger through them, up against her perineum, then hooked it, seeking the entrance to her vagina. Locating it, he slipped his finger behind her pubic bone, and gently entered the moist heat of her vagina. Analyn pressed on his hand and moved it encouragingly, and he sawed in and out, rough palm rasping back and forth over her clitoris, forefinger massaging her soft internal tissues, which rapidly became wet and leaked onto his hand, lubricating his motion.

"Sarap," breathed Analyn.

"What's that?" asked Trevor.

"I like it."

"Me too."

"You make me horny. I like boom-boom. Give me boom-boom," said Analyn.

"Oh, I don't do it the bar. Not like that guy." Trevor was alarmed at the thought of being a public display.

"Me also. Take me in your hotel."

Trevor was tempted, but not yet ready to take a girl, still wanting to explore.

"I'm looking around tonight. Taking in the action. But I'll give you a tip," he said apologetically.

"See how you are," she said with mock indignation.

This was another expression with which Trevor was to become familiar.

"If you give me a big tip, I take you in the back bar and give you a good show," she whispered.

"What sort of show."

"A bold show. Also a blow-job, if you like it."

"We can start with a show," agreed Trevor.

"Come."

Analyn picked up the glasses and tab jar and led the way down past the bar. The Australian was just leaving, and Boxi was back on stage, dancing.

Past the bar on the right, behind a table, was a small bench seat that could seat, at most, three. Opposite, on the other side of the passage way, set back a yard or so, was a small, low stage, no more than six feet wide. Analyn seated him at the table.

"Now I give you private show," she told him, "Do you have your camera?"

"I don't have a camera."

"Next time," said Analyn, and she made her way to the stage.

Her dress was still rolled up to her waist, and she began to snake her hips in time to the music. She gripped her hanger blouse and slowly raised her arms, lifting it up, gradually revealing her breasts, and the most startling areolas, the size of saucers, puffing slightly outwards, like pert breasts on her pert breasts.

Analyn could see the look on his face, "Did you see like this before?"

"Not quite like yours. Yours are quite stunning."

"Thank you, Sir."

She was flattered by his appreciation and gyrated enthusiastically before him, bending and shaking her bottom, sinking on her haunches, knees apart, revealing the neat fold of her pussy mounted on the soft prominence of her pudenda. With her fingers, she eased the fold open, revealing pinkness within, into which she slipped a finger, and masturbated theatrically. For two numbers she entertained him in this manner, then made her way back to sit with him, naked, apart from her shoes and the dress rolled up at her waist.

As she had danced, one or two girls had passed through from the rear, into the bar.

"Where do they come from?" asked Trevor.

"There is two bars. Go through there and you go in another bar," she said.

Analyn snuggled against him placing her hand on his crotch, "Do you like my dance?" She began to rub.

"Yes, you're a great little dancer."

"You like me to come with you and dance in your bed."

She was unzipping his fly and tugging at his penis.

"Maybe I'll come back later."

"Now, I give you your blow-job."

Trevor was unsure, it was not what he had planned, the absence of privacy troubled him. But, he was erect and excited, and past the point of effective resistance. Analyn bent over his lap. She gripped his penis firmly, and he felt her hot mouth close over his penis. This was his first blow-job, and he wanted to enjoy the new sensations.

Analyn was industrious with her mouth and Trevor was introduced to a new physical stimulation, quite different from the subtle pleasure of the vagina. Analyn was expert and very much in control, bringing him to a climax in her mouth as if by timetable. She broke of briefly to gulp, then recommenced, sucking him gently as he softened.

Analyn, rose back up.

"Do not tell Mama-San, ... just give me tip"

"How much?"

"500."

Trevor pulled out a 500 note and slipped it to her. " It's time for me to go bar-hop now."

He stuffed some notes in his tab jar, rose, and she walked back through to the bar with him, her arm around his, holding her hanger blouse in her hand.

A couple of new customers were in the bar. Three girls were sitting with one, amongst them Boxi. Analyn paused and spoke with her, and Boxi looked at Trevor and waved.