The Sex Tourists
PETER: 10:33pm, Ermita, Manila
At night the streets in Manila change very little. There are still all ages wondering around smiling and generally still being very awake. It’s comforting, that it is not night time or daytime or anytime. You can walk into any store and they’ll still try to sell you their stuff as if it’s midday. There are kids playing with whatever things they find, bottle caps, or just bottles (Coca Cola is sold in plastic pouches), looping around quasi-parental figures (Aunts and Uncles, older cousins and family friends count). But really it’s the young women, out, wearing nothing, really nothing anymore. It’s funny, economics, how it just one-ups itself over and over. I mean soon there are going to be clothes that somehow blatantly flaunt a clit, as if that is possible (they’re so small). You can get a blow job for 20 bucks Australian. It helps if you can convert form to Australian dollars because that’s pretty much what they use as the guideline conversion rate. And they don’t care if you’re drunk and take twenty minutes to come. It’s still twenty bucks. And they don’t slow down or care or lose any enthusiasm at all for that matter. You can let you mind wander really, turn your head see some other dude getting his cock sucked maybe five meters away, far enough so you can only see her head bobbing back and forth, not close enough to you know see his cock or anything but just that beautiful Filipino straight black hair shifting back and forth like that. I like the hair really, that’s what I usually focus on then I like to look at their face and see their young tight skinned cheeks doing that inverted suction thing, That’s what I usually finish up on.
PETER: 9:04am, phone call, Manila to Sydney (local time 12:04pm)
“Holy shit you were right, I mean, I don’t want to ask about ages, but, you almost have to ask their age!”
“Told you”
“OK well so, good advice, good advice”
“Did you go to Salina’s?”
“Didn’t have to”
“Yeah I know you don’t have to but it’s safer”
“I figured, if you know about it, then so does everyone, i.e. safety is not a guarantee”
“As if it ever is”
“Ok so we agree then”
“As long as you had fun”
“It was ok, I mean, if we were actually going to review it…”
“Seven out of Ten”
“No way. Five. You still haven’t been to Hungary”
“Too expensive!”
“Well that’s the difference isn’t it. That’s what I’m saying. Five.”
“Ha ha yeah ok, fair point”
“Ok talk to you later Howard”
“Ok, have fun Pete, bye”
Postcard to HOWARD, “Magandang umaga”, from Manila
Great city, a bit disgusting, you know how I like it. I like my women dirty but the goddamn streets clean. But yeah you are right, this is the cheapest god damned place I’ve been yet. I’ve got to get off this eastern european thing and book more se asia trips. Now I know why you’ve always gone for the cheap option. I worry about you sometimes. OK well now we’re even. Anyway as they say here magangang umaga…its good morning but you probably already know that. It’s on the front of the postcard! Heard it twenty times already.
Cheers,
Pete
HOWARD: 11:16PM, Phuket, Thailand
It hardly changes this city, I mean, in ten years, oh shit, fifteen years since my divorce, its pretty much the same. There’s more English language stuff of course but really, same dirty streets, same asshole young drunk Aussies. It’s getting hard to find the places to go really, but, after fifteen years (shit) there’s a guy I have now, Thaksin, he knows what I am after, Christ he’s almost my age after all, ha. Sometimes he is just way off, way of. I’m not one of those paedophiles, don’t now how many times I’ve told him that. Has this flip book of photos of girls in it, A4 pages all in plastic sleeves. The thing gets ticker every time I come here. The funniest things are the categories: “thin legs”, “small ass”, “big ass”, “no tits”, “big eyes”, “long hair”, “anal”, “tight virgins” and on and on. Of course I don’t look at the “sixteen” or “children” sections. I don’t want that in my mind. What it would look like an orphanage brochure no thanks. He takes me about twenty minutes out of town to a decent looking small motel. I get a room and get comfortable, shave and shower all that. About fifteen minutes after I’m done and have had some duty free scotch he knocks at my door and some god damn gorgeous girl comes in, I mean pretty as all hell, in a little skirt and singlet and high heels. I give him his 5000 baht. It’s about a hundred and fifty bucks Australian and then I tell her to bend over the bed and fuck her like that for about five minutes until I come then tell her to wait and get more money for her. They will do way more hardcore extra stuff when you pay them directly like that.
HOWARD: 2:43pm, phone call, Phuket to Romania (local time 9:34am)
“I’ve got a new one for you”
“Yeah, where? Oh no wait let me guess…mysterious Asia, ha ha ha”
“Yes, sure of course in a way but man you’ve got to hear this one out”
“Don’t I always?”
“OK so, this time, shit and I am talking, like MAX two hundred bucks, total maximum, this chick, I mean holy god, this guy I have set up here now, I told you about him right?”
“Yeah”
“OK so, man he is the ultimate filter. I mean I am worth to him maybe, 300 hundred bucks a year, but that’s like, what, that’s like three months regular pay so…”
“Yeah, yeah I get it”
“Yeah so, this chick…ok so, if I can be crude and descriptive”
“Oh please don’t”
“No wait, just this one thing. It was like her ass, her ass was like, a mouth, I mean, she could suck my cock with her ass better than a mouth, I mean, she was using all her little ass muscles to…”
“Ok, that’s enough, I get it ok, I get that you’re happy about this girl”
“Fuck happy is an understatement?”
“Hey guess what? This is costing us a fuck load. I am in Romania right now”
“Fuck Romania? Jesus you are spending your inheritance fast”
“Tell me about it”
“Ok well cool, I’ll send you a card and we’ll chat soon”
“Sure Howard. Talk soon. See ya”
“Bye”
Postcard to PETER, “Sawadee”, from Phuket
Yeah I know I send the same one every time, that’s the joke right? Things don’t fucking change here. Maybe I am pathetic like that. I don’t know. I do like the night life, the girls, always so fucking fresh and damn nice you know? Feeling a bit weird writing this card again. It’s almost the same very time. Same shit different smell. Even same smell. Uh oh getting sentimental here. Must be the hangover. Catch up soon in person I hope.
Howard.
PS: we going to keep sending cards?
PETER: 8:18pm, Bucharest, Romania
First time here and I have to say, besides all of the thick as hell guys who really are gross, which as an aside makes me feel a hell of a lot better about myself and simultaneously horrified that they’ll rob me just for my clothes, its pretty god damned beautiful. The streets are cobblestoned, like regional England, the pubs, or Inns as they are called are amazing, I mean better than England so…anyway, so, following the very brief and basically unavailable online guides is pointless but as I found out once you are on the ground its basically a treasure trove. I wasn’t even halfway down the street when I had pimp-types coming up to me, this was at around 3 in the afternoon offering all kinds of teen girls. And I mean hot and fresh and like, pure skinny girls. You know what I like. Totally creamy white with those European freckles on their porcelain bodes. Man. This guy was willing to point out a girl, looking like a university student really, sitting in a park and said “you want to fuck her” in his broken English. Amazing. I gave him two hundred euro and we were off. She even hooked her arm in mine and there I was walking down the street with a fucking twenty year old hot as fuck college chick. Amazing. Downside? In my hotel room I had to give her another two hundred euro, that was hers she said. But can I tell you, that meant, I came to understand, that I could do whatever. Piss on her, fuck her in the ass, make her gag on my cock and then fuck her ass again. Wow. It was like I was only limited by my imagination, or morals.
PETER: 11:04pm, phone call, Bucharest to Sydney (local time 6:04am)
“Hello?”
“Hello?”
“Can you hear me…hello?”
“Peter…sss pretty bad….I….hear…zz”
“Howard?”
“Yeah ok zzzat better. Jezzzus where are youzz?”
“Bucharest”
“Where?zzzzsh”
“Bucharest, Romzzzzshha”
“Romania! Jesus Chrzzz what is this, like super zzzch tourism or zzsszthing?”
“You will not believe me even if I told youzzsz Thezzschz girls…these girls are hotter than any fucking model you zzzzsszver seen…100% honest truth”
“What?”
“You didn’t hear that?”
“Yeah I heard, models or something”
“Yes, totally hot model. I feel like…I czzshz’t even begin to tzzchz zzooo”
“Jesus. How much?”
“Whatever it was is not enouzzzssh I tell you”
“A lot though”
“Yeah sort of a lot, but, by zzsszzz comparison, I mean, whozzshcares?”
“Ok send me a post card”
“Oh shut up l’m not going to describe this onzzzschzpostcard!”
“Yeah ok but this is a really bad conneczzzshh”
“Ok, ok bye…bye!”
“zzzk so zzzzz later zzz”
Postcard to HOWARD, “Bunã Ziua” from Romania
This has been absolutely insane this time. OK so maybe it cost me a lot more than I thought but it has been worth it. I feel alive, young, fresh, teenage. So the lakes are lovely, the cathedrals, the god damned teenage girls are everywhere. You can’t go anywhere without seeing them. OK my advice, book yourself into a nice hotel and see what happens. I now this is not a good postcard. I just reread it and don’t want to send it but as you can see I did.
Peter, free and happy. Fuck marriage.
HOWARD: 1:12am King’s Cross, Sydney, Australia
The streets are full of young fuck’s, ugly idiot males in tight shirts with rolled up sleeves, and their equally stupid girlfriends in tight as fuck dresses up to their pussies and stupid high heels. It’s funny, they all sort of sway around like butterflies, the know they are not from here and are not staying long, it feels like that. They’re not even sluts, they are drunk with morals so it’s funny, you see them pushing guys off or you see gangs of four of five guys out walking as if they have a chance. So funny. So stupid and so young. Not like it used to be man, one guy, out there, ready for anything. It’s so, organised, and, proper. Nah it’s not like it used to be The Cross. But, thank Christ, there’s still the right places, and hell, even better places if you can find them. A friend of mine told me about a quiet place down off Victoria street, so I went there and he was right. It’s like they took the best girls from Asia and put them all in here. And its like crazy I am not even describing it properly. Like, amazing. As in, you actually feel guilty for being able to buy them like that at this hour. Ha, anyway, up in a room and she takes her top off straight away to reveal these fucking awesome tits. I let her go down on me (yes with a condom. Shit, not like Thailand whatever) and we negotiate like that, her sort of trying to talk in half English with a cock in her mouth. Funny.
HOWARD: 2:16am, phone call Sydney to Thailand (10:16am local time)
“Wake up wake up!”
“Oh shit are you drunk?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yeah but…”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing, I just…fuck…”
“Ok well guess where I am?”
“Oh shit I don’t know…Russia or some shit”
“Hahaha no, I took your advice”
“What?”
“Thailand asshole!”
“No way”
“Yeah, stopover. And can I say. It’s absolutely shit”
“Yeah? You’re probably near the airport which is shit”
“Yeah I am. I’m not really trying hard enough, I mean, I’m happy in my room with a bottle of scotch, really”
“Yeah? I mean I don’t know where you are but you’d probably get some…..um…I don’t know…”
“You ok?”
“Yeah yeah I’m ok. I just wanted to say, fuck, now I feel weird but, like, this Chinese woman was tight tight tight!”
“Yeah? Where are you?”
“Sydney, the cross”
“No way!”
“Yeah, I got lazy”
“Lazy? Man that’s not even trying…hahaha”
“Ok so, when are you back?”
“Tomorrow”
“Ok so we’ll catch up. I need a break anyway. No money and…”
“Ok good idea. Hey, no need to send me a card this time. Heh”
“Oh I will don’t worry”
“OK cool, goodnight Howard”
Postcard to PETER, “G’Day” from Sydney
I told you I would. You know what, why do we leave this country anyway. It’s funny really, here I am on the street writing this over a nice flat white. It’s like we are so stupid. Well, we’ll talk next time. Everything in here man. Howard.
PS: My new number is 04223 445 659. I don’t have that other one anymore.
PETER: 9:43am King’s Cross, Sydney, Australia
I picked my daughter up from her mother’s house a few streets down from Oxford street, she lives near the five ways in Paddington with a Dentist. When I picked her up she had some compressed fruit chew thing in her hand that her mother had gave her as a way of giving our daughter a last chance at chewing something healthy (she thought). So you know what I did, I took her straight to King’s Cross McDonalds for breakfast, because, not because I am a cunt father, but because I know she loves those hash browns and hotcakes. Pancakes, called hot cakes. Too funny. I love what she says, something like “…and I am the princess and you are the king so we need to go and kill the next dragon” and I can’t help think she is talking about that snake ass ugly fuck man my (nearly) ex-wife is seeing, I mean, I find it really hard to separate the two, form my only little girl child’s life to the actual real life we are all living now. When we finish up with the breakfast she loves that I take her to the park and we play board games (a gold coin donation to play games in King’s Cross park). I love how smart she is, chess, connect four, and lastly Chinese Checkers. It’s only one week a month I get her like this and she is as smart as a tack every time. That’s an American saying: god damned how did it get in. She is such a sweet little girl so lovely and pure. I get a text from Howard and when I open it I see he is trying to tell me about tight young Asian pussy and I see my daughter smiling, sipping her juice and it all makes sense how everything has gone wrong and how I have fucked all those little girls in those countries. It all happens just like that and it’s happened before but this time I really think my beautiful daughter needs to get away from me. There is something wrong. I may love my ex-wife but I have not done anything right. My daughter! My daughter! I have a daughter. All these thoughts and the postcards and those teenage girls sucking my cock. It’s too much. I call her mother and tell her to pick her up. I’ll see her again soon, my beautiful daughter.
PETER: 11:18pm, phone call King’s Cross to Ashfield (Australia)
“Hey Howard”
“What is it…it’s late”
“Yeah I know…it’s…”
“What wrong”
“I don’t know, god….my kid is here and I was”
“Yeah?”
“What?”
“No you called me”
“I know it’s just, fuck sorry I’m…”
“Drunk?”
“No, shit…shut up…ok…nothing, nothing.”
“OK well, next month I’m heading back over and”
“No Howard. No more for me”
“What?”
“That’s shit. This is just so…stupid”
“Hey man, I know its late, I know you’re drunk”
“No Howard no…I mean…”
“Yeah ok Pete ok. You get some sleep now okay?”
“Goodbye Howard…you’re just…fuck all this”
“Yeah ok Pete. Goodnight”
