This morning, I realized I haven’t written any actual content here in a while, so I started digging through my list of “stories I should tell on The Churning.”  Somehow I’ve managed to let several months pass without telling you about the sex club I visited while in Thailand.  How could I rob you of this valuable information?!?

Momo and I were in Bangkok hanging out with a friend of a friend.  She’s the Thai travel agent who helped arrange our trip, but because we share some of the same friends, she offered to show us around the city.

We ate dinner at a pub, as I downed several vodka Red Bulls.  I know, that’s a drink for douchebag frat boys and coked-out sluts.  But it’s also the perfect combination for getting over jet lag while catching a buzz.

So as we ate, we talked about the sort of things Momo and I wanted to do in Bangkok.  “Oh, we want to see the Imperial Palace, the Reclining Buddha, and we want to check out Kho San (the hippie hangout for ex-pat Americans).”  The agent’s reaction: “Don’t you want to see Patpong?”

Now in case you’re not familiar with Bangkok, Patpong is the city’s version of Amsterdam’s Red Light District.  That’s where you go to hook up with trannies, buy a massive dildo, or watch a woman shoot vegetables out of her most intimate area.  Of course we answered, “Hell yes.”  A couple of drinks later, we walked over to the strip of sex clubs.

And as we neared our destination, dozens of stylish young Thai men started giving me the eye, quietly murmuring to each other as they ogled.  Momo noticed, “JJ, those guys are staring at you.”  Our friend confirmed our suspicions, “Yeah, Patpong is a popular gay hangout.  They love blond boys.”  I was flattered and uncomfortable at the same time.

The clubs were surrounded by crowds of people bustling by looking for the best bang for their buck.  There were trannies and bikini girls standing outside each seedy doorway trying to lure potential customers.  They were shouting at passers by with the tone of a carnival barker, “Step right up!  See pretty girls naked!  Watch them do sexy tricks!”

It seemed odd, but our friend somehow knew the owners of several of these fine establishments.  She helped us weasel our way into one of them with a discounted cover charge and no drink minimum.  It pays to travel with a local!

The club was designed like a typical U.S. strip club, with a stage in the center and seating all around.  But the lighting wasn’t dim and the crowd wasn’t quiet like you might find here in the U.S.  Instead, the audience was cheering, the place was bright, and the music was booming.  We took a seat at a table in the back of the club and ordered beers.

Six young women were on stage, each completely naked except for their overgrown pubes.  Let’s assume these six women were of legal age (I really hope they were).  The nude dancers just sort of stood there looking bored.  A couple of them tried to keep moving, but I wouldn’t call it dancing.  It looked more like the kind of dancing a nervous boy would do as he stood next to the wall alone at his first school dance.

The girls each took a turn at the center of the stage as the rest stood and watched.  One after the other, they showed off their specialty, you know, their particular “trick.”

The first dancer took a seat in the middle of the stage next to a plate full of unripe bananas.  She peeled one and broke it in half.  She rolled onto her back, knees by her ears with her vag pointing up in the air, then shoved the half-banana in her hole.  She rolled forward then back again quickly, shooting the fruit several feet into the air and caught it with her hands.

The crowd exploded, but the dancer barely cracked a smile.  She repeated the trick several times and the crowd was loving it.  Then she moved into a “crab” position, with her back to the floor propped up on her hands and feet.  She shoved in another banana piece, lowered her pelvis toward the floor, then raised her vag back up again in a quick motion.  The banana shot across the club like a rocket, landing on a table nearly 20 feet away.

The next girl did similar tricks with potatoes.  And another followed with hard-boiled eggs.  By this point we were literally getting sick to our stomachs.  At first it was fascinating and a little sad.  But eventually it was downright depressing.  Plus I may never be able to eat hard-boiled eggs again.

As the last girl walked into the spotlight, I scanned the stage for her props.  No vegetables?  No fruits?  No food of any kind?  But there they were - several bottles of club soda.

Yep, you know what’s next… She crouched down into a squat, hovering over one of the bottles.  She lowered herself onto the top of the bottle, then bobbed for a minute, fucking the bottle top.  She reached down and grabbed the bottle with one hand, clenched her vag muscles, and twisted.  Club soda fizzed out of her hole and onto the stage.  I swear this woman should move to Beverly Hills and teach the Kegel technique to millionaires for $500 an hour.

I was clearly impressed, but I had seen enough.  We headed out to a bar and sat down to decompress over several more vodka Red Bulls.

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