Kinky Stuff....

Monger or not, each of us has a quite personal definition of what we consider kinky sexual behavior. For some, those on the Christian Fundamentalist Right, and the woman who was my first serious relationship (M. I will call her), anything other than missionary sex is not within the realm of possibility. As far as a blowjob was concerned, M. said, Never again, the first time I asked her for one, the “never again” referring to the fact that when she was seventeen a boyfriend got a little out of control and allegedly shoved his “huge banana” down her throat and nearly choked her to death. It didn’t take long for M. to conclude that I was little more than a barbarian when it came to matter in the sexual arena. Little did M. know that within a year of giving her one last kiss and showing her the front door, I was a barbarian of a sort she could not have imagined, for by this time my idea of a memorable night was to find myself in a brothel in Bogotá, Colombia, with a gorgeous young virgin. I would buy a bottle of cheap champagne, we would repair to her room, she would teach me peasant Colombian Spanish (this is how I more or less came to be fluent in one of my three languages) and then once we’d gotten beyond all the storytelling about her very poor life on the outer edges of the Amazon, she allowed me to take her in the ass or she would give me a blowjob, or both were on the menu if that was my pleasure. Virginity in the technical sense of vaginal penetration was so highly valued by Colombian women of all classes that anything was okay, including giving a hi-so girl a nail-biting orgasm with your middle finger on the steps of the national library at noon, as long as you stayed clear of the precious hymen that one day would have to be formally insulted, insult of course measured by blood on a white sheet.

I am sure I am not the only man in the long history of America who was preemptively hung by his girlfriend, live-in partner or wife on a genealogical tree next to Attila the Hun because among other things he (or I) had the chutzpah to try to take the current love of his life on the floor while the meat from the hunt was turning into something unrecognizably smoky and black. This, I forget to mention, is what finally convinced M. that I was hopeless, and if not exactly kinky in my preferences certainly headed in that direction.

I won’t go further into my preferences or what I consider to be quite “normal” sexual behavior, but I think it fair to say that normal in my book would include all those ways that are nicely rendered in illustrated books on the Kama Sutra, and then some; and, too, all of the many pleasures that one finds with two or three women in a bed at the same time (no men, please, I’m hardcore hetero).

But then there are limits, or my limits, and an arena of JasmineLive Cam behaviors that I simply consider inappropriate and would not do with any woman (doesn’t even matter if she’s a hardcore, down and dirty hooker with a tattoo on her nose). I’m more than a little put off seeing any man in public putting his mammoth hands all over a woman’s breasts or groin in public and squeezing like he’s brutalizing a grapefruit or pinching like he’s trying to squirt the seed out a cherry. I’ve seen more than one example in Thailand of a man in one of the go-go venues (and it probably happens quite frequently) stick a couple of fingers up a dancer’s vagina while she sat on a table beside him with her legs spread, or she stood next to the pole she was using in her dance routine with a look of supreme indifference on her face. I consider these men to be, well, barbarians of a species I hardly recognize, and I would happily punch any of in the face were it not for having to spend a night or two in jail for doing so. My reasoning on this matter is simple: I think all women deserve respect, and dignity, and it’s completely irrelevant that she’s a hooker. On the other hand what is done consensually behind closed doors is okay--if genuinely consensual and not the result of Jasmine Live intimidation or anything similar.

And yet there is the matter of kinky behavior, even behind closed doors. What am I referring to? What disturbs me, and why?

This question came to mind recently when I was talking with a Filipina bargirl, collecting as I habitually do another story or data point about what goes down in the Asian world of whoredom.

Glenda—the Filipina hooker’s name--told me that a German man who had barfined her only wanted her to do one thing. He wanted her to take off her clothes and then, while he was lying down, and naked, sit on his chest and pee into his
JasminLive mouth. He wanted to drink what she had to offer. She said, I don’t do that, and left. And at the door, she said to man: Go back and get your barfine.

Kinky? Yes.

Beyond the pale in my barbarian world? Definitely. The guy’s just a sick f**k in my world; but then of course he might well claim that I am too, what with my once-upon-a-time abiding fascination with young Colombian virgins who, among other things, loved to joke, and joke endlessly, about getting fat by swallowing my cum.

This same Filipina hooker told me of another guy she went with, a thirty-seven-year-old American with one marriage behind him. The first night he took her they had Live Jasmin intercourse and later she gave him a blowjob. The second night he barfined her, she said he didn’t want sex. All he wanted her to do was cuddle him, and while cuddling keep repeating: Baby, I love you. Baby, I love you. Baby....

Kinky? Well, maybe not?

Strange? Yeah. Making me wonder when I heard this what kind of relationship the guy had had with his farang wife. Maybe it was one where he craved love, or the love that comes by way of cheap words; and maybe what his wife would say when he said, Baby, won’t you please tell me at least once that you love me, was: F**k off and take out the garbage, schmuck, I only love your money.

But, hey, this is just speculation on my part, what do I know? Maybe the guy had once heard words to the effect of Baby I love you in a song, and he simply liked to hear a young Filipina with a high-pitched voice sing the words again and again, while naked and hugging him.

I talked on with this one Filipina bargirl and I asked her if she heard of other things that some of her friends have run into that were “different.” One complaint is that there are some men about who will tell a young Filipina that all they want to do is sit in the bathroom and watch her pee or take a dump. To which she responded: they get to do that with me for free since I don’t close the door when I go into the C.R.

Strange shit, I tell you. Kind of what I would describe as “soft kink,” as opposed to requesting that a hooker pee in your mouth, which might be called hard kink.

Okay, enough by way of what’s out there, for I have no doubt that there are more examples about than my imagination can conjure up, or that I have run into my 900 morning and afternoon and evening chats with hookers. One of the questions that brought me to this Jasmin Live essay was: How do these kinds of experiences, even those where they are simply part of a threesome or being asked for the first time to give a blowjob, affect these girls? And not just in the short run but for the rest of these lives.
My guess is that all these experiences, and especially when there are enough of them, take a considerable toll on many of the young women. Some experiences, one can bet, are more scarifying than any tattoo that at least in theory was gotten voluntarily. It isn’t just that the girls never forget kinky requests, and that they will have bad dreams about them, but that they completely alter their perceptions of not just a few men but of most men. Bar girls, whether Thai or Cambodian or Filipina, are not good at making fine distinctions among types of men. And they have little or no streamate reason to think that the kind of men they encounter are anything other than representative of the
XLoveCam men in their home countries. Kinky experiences then, and all other kinds of behavior that might not be so labeled, make hookers different people, and they will always be different if only because of the memory of all that they have been asked to do and have often done.