Sunday, March 28, 2021

Me too!

Star Of Light is a place Bruce didn't know existed except in legend. A genuine Blowjow Bar, where the customer sits at the bar on a barstool with his beer or whatever and receives a blowjob. Chatting to his buddies about the latest whatever it is they share interest in. There are no cutouts under the bar or in the stools to accommodate the hostesses, as the legend that he has heard purports, but even so, it is the genuine article. There is also a couch against the wall facing the bar, under the front window, where the lady can better access for her ministrations. 
He knows of other BJ "bars" in Bangkok but they are merely specialist blowjob brothels that have a bar downstairs at the entrance to provide a simulacrum of legitimacy. Customers might purchase a Singha as they walk in, for propriety's sake, but no-one sits around drinking and chatting with the girls because invariably they immediately go upstairs with one or two to a private room (Dr BJs, or Eden Club - 2 girls minimum) or to a large room with curtained-off couches (Lolitas). At Dr BJs the girls will line up, Drs and Nurses uniforms and you can select your choice. In Lolitas the girls are all sitting outside, talking and eating, and you can walk in past, to the empty bar and the girl whose turn it is follows you in there is no such ceremony at Star of Light. 
It reminds Bruce of the old bars in Hong Kong, bars like San Francisco II, Popeye or Dragon Club in the nineties and early noughties, where almost anything could happen in open view, just behind the thick velvet curtain that opened into the street or in a not-so-private private cubicle. 
Bruce recalls the time - he was drunk - when while sitting at the bar in SFII, laughing and playing around with some similarly entertained buddies, he had managed to insinuate his index fingers into the arseholes (to the second knuckle) of two Vietnamese hookers who were standing with him, smiling and shaking their tits in his face. For a few HK$240 lady drinks. In the main section of the bar, in front of the mirrored dancefloor. No-one was on the dance-floor. Walk in the door, and there is Bruce knuckle deep in Da Nang toosh (the girls were so drunk or highm they didn't even notice being so foully treated.) 
Some of the places in Duxton Hill Rd, Girl Next Door in Orchard Towers, and FHM also, were once like this too. A blowjob for a S$50 beer and S$10 for the girl who holds the sheet up for some approximate privacy. But not every bar such simple methods of discretion or indiscretion. 
Bruce had once entered the depths of a coal-mine-dark bar on Duxton Hill and was completely disoriented instantly. He could see nothing, absolutely nothing for the first five minutes. Some hands had been on his arms and had taken him to what must have been another room - he sensed it as being larger, perhaps it was less stifling. Soon his shirts was unbuttoned, his belt and fly opened, he had a nipple in his mouth, his nipples were in other's mouths, and his cock was in someone's mouth as well. As his eyes slowly became accustomed to the lack of light he could see Filipino girls all around, clamouring for a body-part and it's associated drink. As the girl get working on his slowly engorging dick, several Tequila shots were taken from his hairy, puffy nipples. As this continued the light became less turgid. He could now see things aroun d the room. It was a girly-bar room - several/three oblong, round-ended laminex covered table stuck out fomr the walls on either side of the room. The main doors (Bruce had apparently entered from the rear) led straight into the central space between the row of tables and to the bar, around a dog-leg to the right. But the men that Bruce was able to see entering were as struck blind as he had been and could not see him at the third table on the right with his shorts and underpants at his ankles and a crouching girl bobbin on his cock. Bruce had been similarly obfuscated, obscurated, and disorientated when he had first ventured in, and presumably this was the place's modus cockerandi. 

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