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nite life

  • World's horniest countries

    94a2c419358e31a04e428114dd4146b9.jpgAskMen.com has a recent feature on the world's top ten "horniest countries."

    Starting at Mexico at number ten, the countdown to number one held both surprises and non-surprises for me.

    The surprises included Switzerland and Malaysia (sort of). The ones I expected included Mexico, China, Russia and Brazil.

    What were the criteria? Well, it seemed that the writer(s) used the Durex survey rankings as their guide - in fact, "in line" with it. Rankings depend on how often or how much the people in each country had sex. 56c86bea2ef8fde37aa3dba5317f9dac.jpg

    They've also helpfully included, for each country, a list of nightspots to hit for picking up men and women -- especially women, if some venues or areas indicated for sex workers and freelancers are any signs.

    What I find interesting is that countries like Thailand didn't make it to the top ten. I mean, obviously Thais and others there weren't having enough sex! This was surprising, given that the country is known for its beautiful women and vibrant...entertainment and nightlife.

    (Picture courtesy of Asian Sweetheart)


    And the no. 1 country? Well, go to the AskMen.com listing to find out. But here's a clue, clad in traditional garb:

    Okay, that's British glamour model Keeley Hazell in faux-classical world wear. But still, any excuse for a sexy picture.
  • Beauty


    I don't remember exactly how we ended up at the hotel coffee shop, Bud and I. We settled in there, not quite in a corner but also not at the centre of attention either. We left that to the women sitting around us.
    Sometimes a night on the town turns out to have consequences. Sometimes (very rarely) I have no recollection of how I end up, where I end up, at the end of a night. Fortunately these incidents have always turned out well. Well, except for massive hangovers and feeling sick the whole day.
    But this wasn't one of those nights, although it came close. 
    After some ogling and discussion, followed by eye contact and then signaling to beckon them over, two women sat with us eventually - a blonde and a brunette. It was a bit awkard at first, talking to the both of them and deciding which one I 'should' take.
    "So where are you from?" I asked. 
    "Ukraine," said the blonde. And she smiled, showing almost a full set of gold-filled teeth.
    "Uzbekistan," said the other, who looked it.
    I glanced at Bud.
    "Whoa, the brunette's got really big tits," he reminded me in a stage-whisper. 
    The blonde smiled again. I couldn't get away from the gold sheen of her teeth. She still had a nice, warm smile. She was no great beauty, but really didn't look too bad either. I'd also read vaguely somewhere that there were interesting socio-cultural reasons for why people from her part of Europe had gold teeth fillings, something that I can't remember as I'm writing this.
    Something about status, necessity, or even beauty. It was something I could get used to, at least on her.
    She seemed really keen. And even though I prefer brunettes, I felt really keen too, as evidenced by something I felt stirring on my lower torso. I said goodbye to the Bud and the other girl, and there I was.
    When we got to a short-time hotel nearby, I started embracing her and she reciprocated, madly. I started with kissing her forehead and cheeks, and before I had properly moved to her mouth, her lips were on mine and we were both wet and moist between our mouths...and eventually down below too. 
    With further ceremony or even thought, we began stripping each other, until we were completely naked and she moved down and began licking and sucking me. You might think it would be weird for me to protest as this point, but I did. 
    "But...wait...I haven't washed..." I tried to say. [she neither]
    "And, so?" She retorted, merrily carrying on.
    We moved onto the bed and she continued pleasuring me. I tried to caress her as much as I could and give something in return, but under the circumstances there was only so much I could actually do.
    "I'm...I'm going to come...", I said quite feebly after a short while.
    "Yeah okay...okay, do it," she said, in between mouthfuls and intervals for air. She was really enjoying it, it seemed.
    I couldn't help thinking of her gold teeth fillings, resplendent across her entire mouth...and then it happened. A gush, several spurts. A sigh (from me). 
    After we both washed up, we lay back on the bed. The Ukrainian was really warm to me, and not just physically. Without me asking, she snuggled up to me and I cradled her in my arms. As I was dozing off, it occured to me that in my sleepiness and the time we had left in the room, there wouldn't be time (or energy on my part) for Round 2.
    Drifting off to sleep, I thought briefly about her gold teeth fillings and more importantly, of her nicely warm body pressed next to mine. Beauty, I reflected, was really in the eyes of the beholder, and was brought out not only or always by externalities, but but how people treat one another. She was certainly a beauty that night.
    We slept for about two more hours and before long it was already dawn. I said goodbye to her and left the room a little while later.
    Bud would joke with me later occasionally about the Ukrainian and her gold teeth, and I would always smile at the memory.

  • Another MILF, and a little education

    A recent Friday night, and I was in the mood to prowl the clubs. I felt I deserved it, working all day and looking to let off some steam. After making arrangements with my buddy from the last few times (henceforth referred to as 'Bud'), I waited and did some other things to occupy my time as the hours and minutes ticked by.

    Bud, another friend called Kish, and I met up in the Sheraton Hotel club first. Known for being a meat market, the last thing we expected was a cover charge. Even if it was a Friday. We were a bit annoyed because they never had a cover charge before, and apparently it was a new practice. The clincher was, the place looked dead. To be fair, it was a little after 10pm. But it only took a couple of minutes (and maybe not even that) to decide to go to the Grand Hyatt Hotel club.

    That's one thing I like about these guys. Collectively we may not be decisive all the time, but in the things that matter (heh heh), we're pretty sorted.

    We reached the other club, advertised cheekily in an entertainement guide-magazine as one of the traditional 'meet' markets (of course the pun was intended). It was good that we went. We were prepared to pay the cover charge, but a couple of the front-of-house staff ushered us in for free. Our initial puzzlement gradually turned to understanding later; there was some company function inside, and the staff thought that we were part of the group. Excellent.

    We hung around standing for a while before getting drinks. This was a hotel club, like the first one, where the working girls were generally better dressed than in other bars. And they were around. The dance floor was rockin'. (Oh by the way, this was the same club in which I saw those Japanese women, one of whom I was attracted to - the possible flight attendants who I'd mentioned in this post.) But in any case, the dance floor was only half of the story. It was quite crowded, even for a Friday night, and there were as many men and 'regular' women (as in, non-working girls) as there were working gals. It would be a challenge sorting them out, but not by much.

    As it was, three older-looking women were standing by a pillar, and as I walked past one, we caught each other's eye; she was clearly interested. She wasn't too bad looking and although wasn't exactly a gorgeous model-type, slim and reasonably attractive. But I'd just got my drink and I was following my mates to another part of the club to reposition ourselves. Besides, the night was still young and so it was early days yet. I gave her a quick and (what I hoped was a) warm smile, and walked on. It was then that things started really getting interesting.

    We managed to grab a table in our new corner and proceeded to check out the girls. Bud and I were definitely hunting tonight. Kish was taking it easy and was more relaxed because he was happy just to check out the scene; he had an early-ish breakfast appointment the next morning, and wanted to have a good night's sleep uninterrupted by any carnal nocturnal activities.

    Bud made his moves and even ran into a couple of aquaintances, who were freelancers working around a regular circuit of clubs. I sat nursing my drinks and was trying to decide whether to talk to a 20-something sweet young thing (but no discernible tits that I could see) on the opposite end of the bar, or this older MILF-looking specimen sipping red wine at my side of the bar, not 2 feet in front of me. The fact that a) she had an impressive frontage in spite of being slightly plump, and b) her knickers were visibly peeking out of her pants from my position, looking at her from behind, made my mind up.

    So I mentally, silently bid adieu to the sweet young thing - who had been exchanging curious but pleasant and interesting glances with me - and stepped out from my seat and ordered another drink. Right next to MILF-looker. Then i said "Hi, how are you?", and offered to get her a drink. What followed was at least a good hour of small talk and haggling. I had to give her credit for coming straight to the point after a while, and for giving me an inflated initial quote for her price. I was't impressed with the latter, but we did have some sort of rapport and I guessed that she was interested in taking the fee I suggested. At some point we even made it to the dance floor together. I was keen on her, definitely. But the vibes she was giving off weren't that clear, especially to my alcohol-addled mind.

    Before I knew it, the night was almost gone. Kish left early, and Bud was having trouble finding the right chick to take home. In the end, he went with two girls (turned out to only go for supper; no right girl, no matter) while my MILF-looker took me to her car in the hotel basement.

    Before this gets too complicated, this was her story (briefly): In the car (it was nice and big, but I forgot what make or model exactly) we spoke more, and I found out that she was in her late 30s, was indeed a mom (MILF - I was right!), and was doing this after the business she used to run had gone bust. She was now involved in doing some oter business with a couple of family members, but that was not bringing in enough cash for her. She also wanted to sustain her current lifestyle, including keeping her car. I also suspected that she had some debts to pay off. So she tried to solve her problems by hanging out at hotel clubs and offering herself as a relatively higher-class pick-up escort.

    I had a nice time with her that night. Later I described it to Bud as "way, way better than average compared to most of the other working girls I've had". Talking to her gained me another insight into the way many people think and behave in this country, and having sex with her - well, the expression 'older women are like fine wine' really applied that night.

  • Sexy mommy, Part Two

    To recap.

    My buddy and I were in this hotel club, notorious for the number and variety of working girls hoping to pick up a customer. And we did, sort of, for now. I'd promised my girl that I would go back to her once I helped my friend out. Not that he needed any; he was just being picky. I understood that because if I were him, I would've wanted the best too, or at least the "best" for me. After lucking out with the CIS chicks, he decided to go back to the hotel lobby to recover and regroup.

    It was there that he met the two chicks who we'd met earlier, and who he'd paid for to get into the club. I got my girl out from the club at closing time, and we sat next to my friend while he tried to close the deal with one of the two. Apparently some prospective punters were driving them a hard bargain, but my buddy got one of the chicks because he didn't care to bargain; he (and I) knew the market prices, and what she was offering was standard and reasonable.

    So off we went.

    First to an after-hours club. My buddy knew the place and was keen, and I was curious - a first-timer to the place. On the way there I realised my girl was drunk. She asked me to take care of her, and don't leave her, because she agreed to come with me, and so on, slurring her words...it was quite funny - as in amusing funny. The ladies, mine especially, weren't so sure about the club until we entered it, and it was rockin'. The music was loud, and the alcohol started to flow again. And then my MILF-girl kissed me. Full on the lips. With tongue.

    It was nice. Actually, more than nice. A drunk blond MILF-type making out with me in a small bar only partly filled with dancing, drinking and drunk people, my friend and his companion looking on, and myself slowly sinking into the sweet oblivion of her lips (and of alcohol). She said my lips were nice, and kept pinching my cheeks (Whoa, take it easy, sexy mommy...). I was asking her at certain points, "Are you drunk?" To which she always replied, "No, I'm not drunk, I'm Russian, I can't be drunk..." in that sexy Russian accent. This type of conversation went on for a while, and one can imagine the weirdness of it.

    Before too long, we finished our drinks and left for my buddy's apartment. For reasons best kept to myself, he'd kindly let me have his spare room for the night, while he would be next door (in the same apartment). Kinky, heh.
    In any case, my sexy MILF seemed to have second thoughts, even coming out of the shower fully dressed, after her shower! (I attributed it to her not being drunk enough) Finally when we are in the room, she asked me to switch off the lights, which I promptly did, eager as a boy scout, and anticipating the time ahead.

    It was actually quite anti-climatic, no pun intended. We were both drunk, and in no real condition to have any of the awesome, mind-blowing sex that I hoped I would have. In fact, neither of us were probably in any condition to have any kind of sex, full stop. We managed to first get each other undressed...I think she was actually shy to do so in front of me in the light. We did try to have sex though, and there was a lot of French-kissing and stroking. But at some point we fell asleep, not from any hot-blooded, heavy action, but from sheer alcohol-induced exhaustion.

    The next morning I woke up a few times. Once, I peeked out the door and saw my buddy working on his computer. We chatted a bit and he was okay with letting me and her stay there for a while longer. That "a while" turned out to be three hours. We just slept. And then I woke up in a spooning position, with her hair in my face and my arms and legs around her (see the beginning of 'Sexy mommy, Part One') . When my MILF woke up, she couldn't remember most of the night before, until I slowly recounted the events...ahhh. I found out that she was born in one Central Asian country (oil-rich and growing gradually prosperous) and carried the passport of another Central Asian country (less wealthy, more repressive). She now lived in Odessa, Ukraine, and get this... was Jewish with Israeli citizenship!

    Sometime during the course of the day, I called her 'sexy mommy', which she half-dismissed with a laugh. But I was  amazed by her. And I would continue to be amazed as we started making out again - after she'd taken an aspirin (thank you buddy!) and reached a certain comfort level with me while now sober, albeit with a hangover. But when we started getting it on again, it was good. She helped me with my condom, and got on top of me. She was quite tight. Or maybe I was rock hard. I don't know. But it was good, and I had to slow down a few times before I came too fast; I wanted it to last. She was obliging too.

    After that, we slept in for a bit more. Really thankful to my friend for letting me stick around in his apartment, especially since his own girl had already left. Apparently she was a university student who was - ahem - 'escorting'  part-time (quite common in these parts), and had classes earlier that day.  Anyway...my MILF left eventually. We exchanged phone numbers. I made vague promises to at least call her sometime.   

  • Sexy mommy, Part One

    w4bblonde016.jpgI woke up and I remembered the blonde, still lying next to me. I smelled the scent of her hair before I opened my eyes and saw her. We were spooning, her back to my front. I leant over and kissed the back of her neck, and she murmured "Mmmmm...[then something in unintelligible Russian]". I fiddled with her hair, and she used a hand to brush the whole lot away from my face and under her ear. I re-settled my hand on her bosom, and went back to sleep for a while more.

    We were on my friend's bed...or rather, we were in my friend's spare bedroom, which he'd kindly let me use after we'd come back from the club where we had picked up our girls, the night before. I didn't want to go back to my filthy bachelor pad, and getting a hotel room at such short notice was too much of a hassle, so I was lucky my mate had his spare room available.

    But anyway. So there I was with my buddy last Saturday, in a hotel club that was notorious for the sheer number of working girls hoping to make a quick killing, and I settled on a MILF - sorry - Mom I Love to Fuck. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

    My mate and I ran into these two chicks in the lobby, one of whom insisted that she'd seen him before at another similar haunt. He didn't quite remember her, but that didn't stop him from paying their cover charge into the club. "I'll take care of the girls, no worries," he said. It's something that he does pretty well, by the way (ha ha). Then we were in, and the girls, both locals, proceeded to take care of themselves by going on the prowl. They weren't with us, simply because my friend and I we were not interested there and then, and we left them to their own devices. He did say, however, that if both pairs struck out for the night, we would go back to each other. Or at least he would. I had different fish to fry.

    I was looking for something blonde that night - Eastern European or Central Asian. They were there, definitely; the first thing I saw when we entered was a bunch of East Asian businessman-types walking out with one of the above each. That of course didn't stop the local chicks from checking me out. There were hordes of them. I candidly admit that I almost changed my mind a few times in the course of the evening. But I stuck true to my original aims, and I struck gold; or blonde, rather.

    She was shorter than me quite a bit. She looked like the mamasan of the girls, but only in age. A very drunk 'mamasan', as I was to find out later. I approached her in the most direct yet haphazard way imaginable.

    "Breviat," I said. "How are you? Are you here for a holiday?"
    "No, not on holiday," she replied in a throaty accent. "I'm here for biz-ness."
    If I wasn't entirely sure about the nature of her "biz-ness", the way she spoke gave away her general origins.
    "So what kind of business do you do?" I asked again.
    "Just biz-ness, you know? You don't know what kind of biz-ness when I say biz-ness?"
    "Yes," I replied. "I think I know."
    "If you know then maybe you don't want to talk to me, because I don't think you can afford my prize [that was how she pronounced it]."
    At this point I decided to tease her a bit. I leaned in closer, put my hands around her waist, practically on her butt. "If I don't know your price, then how d'you know I cannot afford it? And I haven't even asked you your price."
    There was a momentary silence from her. I think she became perplexed for a while. I grinned.
    "So where are you from?" I asked.

    After some more small talk and some bargaining, I settled on her fee - her '"prize" - which was a bit more than I expected, but I thought what the heck; I don't do this every week, not even every month. I asked her to wait around for me for a while, while I got myself another drink along with my friend. He was alternately hesitating or missing opportunities for approaching the other CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States; former Soviet Union) girls. There were quite a few around that night, and some of them were really hot. It turned out there were girls from the Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Moscow, and even a couple who looked Latina but could've been Uzbek or Kazahk for all we knew. But I knew my friend didn't want to settle for anything less than the best (or at least what he fancied), and he was prepared to take a non-CIS chick.

    And that was what he eventually did.

  • Just another night

    The walls were black, the decor was black chic. There was lighting in all the right places, and there was an ample display of alcohol, and of it being served. The drinks had prices to match the type (or types) of clientele. All in all, it was quite classy; understated, non-extravagant, but classy. 

    Some kind of House/Ambient-chillout music was playing, and it was loud enough to be appreciated, soft enough to hear ourselves and each other talk. I wonder if the attached restaurant section of the bar could hear it at the same volume, but those were peripheral thoughts that brushed past my mind as we settled in after ordering our drinks.

    The drinks. The waitress came over. She was in an all-black lounge cocktail dress, the only staff in the bar dressed like that. Many places here have at least one waitress or greeter in a similar outfit, or with some other variations. She looked pretty good in it, altough she seemed a bit awkward in heels. I placed my order on behalf of everyone in the group; she was so cheerful, helpful and earnest, even though she didn't seem to know a certain beer at first (they had it one tap, placed in an obvious position at the bar), and even though she actually missed out one important order - mine. I had to go up to the bar counter to repeat the order, and add mine. But she was seriously cute, so I forgave her that, hah.

    One of my compadres got to talking with the bar manager, some guy, coincidentally, from home. It's a small world. He mentioned that it was the cocktail dress waitress' first day at work. Oh well, I'm definitely forgiving her now. 

    Being a weekday night with no special activity or program, the place was relatively quiet. No problem; it suited me just fine. Trying not to be too conspicuous, I looked around the whole time whenever I wasn't talking to my friends. I noticed four chicks near a corner. Two blondes, two brunettes. Not exactly fashion models but all were moderately attractive. Indeterminate nationality, but that was only a minor point of curiosity. They had friends who came in the bar from time to time, saying hi. This was in addition to the legions, no, erm, good-quality handfuls of young women who came into the place throughout the evening, who could be variously classified as cute, attractive, or just plain...plain shaggable, that is; or any combination of the three. Too bad about the nearly-equal number of guys who came with (or without) them though. I would absolutely love to come with them (all puns intended).

    But I can't help thinking of the four chicks near the corner, and more about the cocktail dress waitress, with her long raven-colored (ahem...black) hair, smooth fair skin, and comely smiles. I definitely wanted to see her, or someone like her, again. I made a mental note to come back, with or without my friends.

    Not that I would try to score with the other customers or the staff, heavens no. The cocktails were pretty good. Seriously.      

  • Midnight after the oasis

    I knew, too late, that I shouldn't have ordered the Long Island Tea. But that regret came later.

    The music was loud, and the girls were dancing on the floor, the podium, and on top of the bar. Most them of them were in black and red, the two professional dancers being in all-black after a costume change. I clinked glasses with my hostess, someone I'd met the first time I came to this bar. Some gin-lime-vodka thing for her, the lethal Long Island Tea for me. And to top it all off, they had this blood-red concoction of a welcome drink made up of vodka, tequila, something syrupy red and other liquid substances in a punch bowl.

    It was Halloween night. I don't celebrate it, but some people in this bustling, commercial Southeast Asian metropolis do. I was out alone, after a dinner with friends. They went off somewhere I didn't quite fancy going to, and thought I could meet up with a friend somewhere else in town. That didn't happen, as I decided I didn't want to meet him at one of our usual haunts, where he was going to play dress-up and maybe a little something else if he could pick up anyone. I headed off alone instead, and thought I could relax at another bar.

    Boy, was I wrong.

    If nothing else, "my" girl was a good dancer. Like most of the staff, she was in a clinging black top, hot-pant shorts, knee-high boots, and a reversible black-red cape. She was supposed to be a vampire. I guess in other circumstances it would have been true, but I didn't intend to take her out for the night, so I didn't have to pay more than the costs of my drink and hers, plus a tip for the cashier.

    We danced together on and off, and generally made fools of ourselves along with the other customers and hostesses. The Long Island Tea was starting to have an effect. During intervals she sat close next to me and talked. I was surprised, pleasantly, that I could understand her more than the last time. My language skills seemed to have improved. It was nice to also have simple non-verbal communication as I felt her waist and back through her cape, and she put her hand on my thigh.

    The music was getting louder. And my drinking was playing noticeable havoc with my head. The room wasn't exactly spinning, but neither was the DJ's music spinning the only thing going on. My glass was almost empty, and it was time to go. She told me she doesn't know when she'd see me again, knowing very well that my comings and goings would be sporadic (and this was only the second time she's seen me!). I reckon with some people, you just know. I told her the same, said my goodbyes, and left.

    And went to bar number two. Only this time you wouldn't call it a hostess bar.

    Around these parts, it's called a "go-go" bar. Young women in bikinis or lingerie, or some similar combination on the first floor, and other young women in Japanese-fetishist schoolgirl uniforms with short skirts upstairs. Dancing on a glass ceiling, looking up from the ground floor. You can imagine.

    Only this night, they were topless upstairs. Well, well. I was suddenly a bit more sober. But not sober enough to let one of the bikini dancers lead me to a chair, sit beside me, and slowly, subtly ask me for a drink. This was after I found out that my "regular" girl was sitting upstairs with another customer, so I thought what the heck, no problem. She got a drink courtesy of a lonely, slightly drunk me.

    This girl was a dancer on the ground floor. I don't recall seeing her before, and even if I did, I wouldn't remember. In my semi-regular visits to this bar, I'd never gone for the ground-floor dancers, just straight upstairs to perve at the schoolgirl-uniformed mynxs. She got a beer. I let my right arm and hand wander down her bare thigh. The dancers here were wearing a bikini top and short wrap-around skirt in summery colours. She was back to the stage after 10 minutes for her group's turn. I got a waitress' attention and settled myself and the drinks in a more comfortable corner. Not really possible to see the dancers upstairs, but I was too far gone to care.

    She came over after 10 or 15 minutes and we made small talk. She mentioned that her younger sister was also dancing here, and that her call number was just one below hers. (Heh...I know this would be some of my friends' fantasies-nearly-come-true...if it had proceeded further.) I made a mental note but didn't put too much stock in it. I was bored, had time to kill, and was getting kind of horny. So I asked her if she was avaibable for take-out tonight. "No, I can't tonight, sorry. I'm not well below," she said. And then to slightly illustrate, she lifted her skirt and pointed to her (shaven) venus' mound.

    Wow. It turned out that she was menstruating, and would be for the next two days. But I can come back after that, she said. I don't know, I said, and I didn't think I would. But the fact that she was shaven was already a plus for me. I enjoyed cuddling with her though. And also enjoyed the thought that all the bikini girls were, apparently, bottom-less under those skirts. Even though she was not my type, I wonder...will wonders ever cease at this place?

    But wonders would cease for me this night. It was time to go, and I was feeling sick from that combination of spicy food for dinner, and a lethal drink after. I had work the next morning. My drink here was barely halfway done. I abandoned it with no regrets, and left. It would prove to be a good move, as I puked into my sink back in my apartment later.

    It wasn't a pretty sight, but I felt better the next morning. All the while thinking that I should have stayed in one place that night, gone to just one oasis, whichever it would've been.