(extracts with 230 photos)
All text and photos © to the author, Rakit.
Grateful acknowledgement to Jock McCock for comments, humour and companionship
Part 3: The Viets are Back
Day 5: House of the Rising Sun
Rakit’s cold intensified into a full-blown fever. He met McCock and they hit the Chinese for lunch, but the sweat was blinding him and he just went through the motions with the food. He cancelled the photoshoot date. “Keep her waiting” he thought as he stocked up on amoxycilin and paracetamol for the long haul and hit the sack. Sleep embraced until 10pm and he belled McCock for a Sharkeys pitstop. SmallAsianDick was supposed to be there, but no-one fitted the bill, so Rakit negotiated a double-header with 2 Viets, whilst McCock and a Yank headed off to Le Cyrcee for a blowjob.
The Yank, a true expression of Cambodian detritus, dreamed about being a rock star yet lived the life of an impoverished English teacher, often surviving on $4 a day. He’d been given $100 by someone to help him get on his feet and interpreted this to mean he was to go on a sexual bender with Le Cyrcee as the first stop. And why not – this was Cambodia. He talked of how the Penh fucked people up and how he desperately needed to get away from the resident expat yanks, their obsession with guns, ammunition and other much more dubious practices. He was heading for Bangkok within the month before he was dragged down any further. McCock, already love-blinded by the Penh reckoned this couldn’t happen to him if he moved there and the failure of so many to maintain their morality was simply extra evidence of his own unquestionable superiority.
Rakit’s Viets, whilst amicable in Sharkeys, were more like insurance claims officers back at the room and Rakit got tough, threatened to kick one out with zero unless the deed was done properly, with no more fucking about and a lot less of the Viet gibberish. They got to work. They didn’t like the $11 each but Rakit reckoned they were rip-off merchants, especially the bigger one. The receptionist called to check all was OK when they left, so maybe there had been some history with them or perhaps Viets were being checked harder than the Khmers. Looking at the photos afterwards, Rakit was appalled. “They didn’t look as if they had death masks on in Sharkeys. Jeezuz, I’m going to get trashed for these two” he shuddered.
Photo: Cambodia J & K 17
Another 2 hours sleep and its 3am. Rakit headed out to find McCock in the Walkabout. Sure enough, he was there in deep banter with some Irish and an ex-pat Yank dubbed “the Sniff” because of his method of deciding whether or not to wear a condom. The Sniff was looking leaner, cleaner, and well-shaven, with new gear on. The English teaching job must be paying well, but his head hadn’t changed. He told a tale of woe about losing his friends in the tsunami, but had inexplicably forgotten about his long-lost mother dying just before Xmas.
Another familiar face came in, one that McCock had connected with previously. The Vamp had long, straight black hair and dressed all in black. She was 40ish, had a great body and was allegedly split from her husband in Bangkok. She was back on the Walkabout prowl, this time with a Cambodian ladyboy in tow and waved a huge wad of notes. Noticeably avoided by the taxi-girls, she had an air of danger about her. Of course McCock was yet again unable to resist this Draculic combination and went into sniff-mode. Rakit played pool with the disappearing Chocita from yesterday or… earlier today?...fuck knows… this was the fucking Penh where days and nights blend into one continuous drinking and whoring fuckfest. She bought him beers to say sorry for disappearing. That was a first! A scummy long-haired character arrived, not catching anyone’s eye, yet eyeballing everyone shiftily, guardedly. His face reminded Rakit of a rat looking through an old, dirty toilet brush and his generally terrified but shady demeanour left no choice but to dub him “On the Rule”.
Next thing McCock’s getting heavy lip from some yabba-ed ex-pat whose body language spelt trouble. Some shit related to The Vamp was hitting the fan. Rakit kept one eye on the situation and positioned himself discretely at the ready, pool cue in hand. There was something about McCock - the fuck-ups always wanted a piece of his ass, but in this instance nothing developed and the yabba-head went back to animatedly shouting at his friends, the taxi-girls, the barmen and anyone else who came within 6 feet of him. Hours later he was still wildly gesticulating at all and sundry and was yet to supply McCock with a reason for his rage at the Vamp. “That’s what 12 years in the Penh does for you” laughed McCock as he split with the Vamp, looking like a man on a promise. Surprisingly, he arrived back less than an hour later and told Rakit that they’d gone to bed for free but she refused a sexual encounter, telling McCock that she’d “never love another man”. Wondering to himself “does that include that fucking ladyboy?”, McCock turfed her immediately, not caring about her emotions as he only wanted yumyum, not love. “A tad risqué”, thought Rakit, knowing that he’d have to watch McCock’s ass from now on.
At 7am, the sun rose and kicked new life and light into the grimy depths of the Penh’s premiere knocking-shop. The previously grey-dead chicks’ faces that usually reflected the drab décor took on a golden shine as they worshiped the rays, their smiles celebrating the survival of one more night in the Penh without tragedy and the morgue was transformed, albeit briefly, into a pussy shrine. It lasted 10 minutes and this time around at least it trounced Angkor fucking Wat and became known, briefly, as Angkor Walkabout.
Photos: Angkor Walkabout 18 19 20 21
In these golden moments, Rakit was transfixed by lust. He’d been aware of her all night, but now she became irresistible. One drink and she was compliant to leaving discretely to avoid any scene with Rakit’s (ahem) Chocita who had deserted him yesterday. She was smooth as silk and 60 minutes later, after breakfast, she really started to show her talents. Rakit praised her beauty, made her feel like a real woman and after a 100-shot photoshoot that she seemed to enjoy as much as him, both of them were so turned on that when they made love, for the first time Rakit could remember in days, a Khmer actually came when he fucked her.
Photos: Cambodia L 22 23
Day 6: Down in the Belly
At 11.30am Rakit hit the sack. What a fucking night! What a fucking city! This place may be perilous because of the disease and the guns, but there’s actually another and more sinister danger. It drags you down, into its belly, embraces you and your vices and your weaknesses and encourages you to celebrate them in all their sordid glory, then pats you on the back and whispers “Well done Son, but you can take it a little further next time… trust me… you know you want to”. And you do. So you do…. and the story’s the same the next day except you’re a little further down that line, your concept of home and safety a little vaguer and the brutal tenuousness of Phnom Penh reality a little more apparent. But you don’t give a fuck. After all…. this is Cambodia.
The boys started early and took a trip round the Penh in the Flamingo’s tuktuk to score some cash. A quick drink in the Walkabout provided a laugh by way of the female and male headings on the pool table waiting list.
Then they hit Shanghai, Sharkeys and the Rose Bar, where there were some very classy hostesses who loved getting their photo taken, but clearly needed more effort than the boys were prepared to spend to bed them. Mr Happy, the Sharkeys moto driver jokingly ask if they wanted to visit Sophie’s, the open blowjob bar just north of the market, but Rakit countered with “OK, you first”, which provided merriment for everybody all the way back to the Walkabout.
Photos: Rosebar 24 25 26 27 28
They stayed in the Walkabout until sunrise again. McCock was accosted by a fairly good-looking non-regular Viet with good English. When he introduced Rakit as The Rash’s replacement she howled with a mixture of dread and laughter. Rakit took a few shots of her, but McCock decided against her as she was a long-time girl, so Rakit arranged another one for him and they all headed off for breakfast. Rakit’s was chunky, a friend of a previous girl he’d had. In the bedroom, he looked forward to snuggling up to her ample body for a long sleep. As she undressed, Rakit saw what he thought was a shaved cunt, but then he became acutely aware that it was actually completely bald. Intrigued and more than a little cautious, even though she looked about 25, he asked her about it and she told him that she was 27, had 4 children and that some Khmer women are this way and never grow pussy hair. Her tits, totally wrecked by breast-feeding, attested to her age and Rakit, although still slightly bemused, now felt comfortable and sleepy and wrapped himself around her and passed out.
Photos: Cambodia M 29 30
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