Photo: Yum Yum 01
Then I dragged myself down to the SOB event at Angel and won a half barfine, but tucked it away for later use, since Yum Yum had bruised my dick and I hadn’t slept for three days.
The next night began parrying with Apple, but before I could come to thrust, a text message from Apple’s ex sent her into a tizzy. So instead I fetched a fine young dancer from Camelot for an adventure that was every bit as satisfying as the Yum Yum experience. Too many fish in SEA to get hung on one.
As my new best friend and I strolled to Kokomo’s for lunch the following day, who should chance to pass but the enigmatic Apple. John Lennon once opined that life’s what happens while we’re busy making other plans.
I later dropped by DMZ with a small birthday cake, since it was, after all, Apple’s birthday. I’d earlier done the same for Yum Yum, who seemed deeply appreciative of the gesture and was a star with the other girls when she shared it with them.
Apple’s reaction was exactly the opposite: both she and mamasan emphatically denied that this was the birthday, insisting that I’d got the month wrong. Only later did mamasan confide that they were having a private party after work and didn’t want to share the cake with the other girls. Sheesh! Wished ‘em the best and moved on, this time for good.
Generally not interested in cherry girls, I was charmed in passing by a local lass just a week into her debut as Dirty Duck doorgirl. She was young and innocent, had not yet barfined nor even experimented with a man, and was intrigued but tentative about dipping a toe in the water.
Sometimes in AC it all seems too easy, so the mock courtship and thrill of the chase were an amusing diversion. I suggested she sleep on it, and made other plans for the evening. She was primed when I returned the next night, so we explored her interests. She left her earrings – marking territory? ensuring return?
In the interim, I had made off with Anabelle from Pasha, who seemed both astonished and delighted that I had come back for her. And I too was delighted to discover that Anabelle is your adolescent dream girlfriend: hard body, exotic look, perennially sunny disposition; doesn’t say much, is perfectly delighted by your every attention and kindness, and is absolutely determined to possess your dick in one way or another, every…. single… moment. No matter how many times or how many ways or for how long you’ve already done it or abused each other. She’s a sex machine.
Photos: Anabelle 02 03 04 05
In the aftermath of the Anabelle marathon, I postponed an appointment to meander down Santos St with a buddy, knowing that I couldn’t possibly get it up again - until five minutes later, when a tart at Kokomo’s challenged me to a game of pool: “If I win, you buy me drink. If you win, I give you blow job.”
Monica bent over backwards to seal the deal, but it just didn’t work out - she was sexy but a bit street-hardened for my taste, and my ambivalence evaporated as soon as she tried to bring her katooie friend along. She harangued me for days, but my gut said it wasn’t worth it.
Photo: Monica 06
I learned that an old friend back home had died, in large part from the ravages of excessive drinking, so I drank in excess that night in her honor. Halfway thru a pitcher of margaritas, a fine La Bamba specimen eagerly posed for pix and coaxed me to caress her assets. I can’t for the life of me remember precisely what went wrong, only that I decided she wasn’t worth the trouble that night, and moved on down the line…….
too drunk for this?!:
Photos: Drunk 07 08 09 10
…..finally forfeiting the half barfine at Angel for a fascinating lady with none of the wear you’d expect on a 28(!)-year-old who had worked as a hotel maid for two years in the Middle East. I hear she was a runner-up at Kokomo’s wet t-shirt contest in May, perhaps revealing more about gumption than pulchritude.
Photos: Rosalie 11 12
Came upon a real cutie in street clothes curled in a booth at deserted Las Vegas. She’d previously sung in a band in Manila, and claimed only to work at LV as the spirit moves her. We conversated (as my brothers might say) remarkably like we would have in a bar back home. She’s pretty as a picture, sweet as sugar, and, though I can only reveal her face, you are assured that the rest is storybook.
Photos: Michele 13 14 15
Speaking of show and tell, here are a few shots that I omitted in February. Cathy has since migrated with mamasan from The Jungle to DMZ. She’s lots of fun, but slightly old school in habitually finding a way to return to the bar. Which reminds me,
Q: What does a bargirl do on her night off?
A: Go barhopping with co-workers.
Photos: Cathy 16 17 18 19
And, while we’re at it, let’s toss in a few from AC in August 2004.
August in Angeles 2004:
Photos: AC 20 21 22 23 24
Finally, this one was a real dog, but she loved to sit on my lap and give me wet, sloppy kisses.
Dogface:
Confession: this isn’t the whole story of my April AC adventure - there was a sample blow job at Nifty’s, and BBBJ on Santos just before my taxi to the airport arrived, and another girl or two tucked in along the way. But just as my later travels delayed this report, forthcoming plans curtail it: I’m goin’ back to Angeles on June 25, and from there winging it thru SEA as the mood strikes. Maybe my next report will be more multicultural.
I leave you with five AC observations and one pressing question.
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