DeCock in Cambodia
Trevor DeCock
Published by Smashwords
Email: trevordecock@gmail.com
Copyright 2011 Trevor DeCock
Smashwords Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission by the author, except for brief quotations embedded in reviews.
Author's note: This is a work of adult fiction. If you are under age, or offended by depictions of sexual activity, discard this ebook. All names, characters and events are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental. But the locations are very real.
*****
DeCock in Cambodia
River of a Thousand Lingas:
from the erotic adventures of DeCock in Asia, by Trevor DeCock
SIEM REAP, Thursday, noon: at a small restaurant near the markets, I sit down for a mango juice--and run into Saskia. She has her eye on my rented dirt bike. And I have both eyes on her teeth. The moment she opens her mouth, I fall for her. She has a gap tooth at the front. I find this highly attractive: her teeth are perfect and pearly, but the gap gives them special character. It's perfection with a unique signature.
She's Dutch, from Rotterdam. I'm listening, but really my attention is directed elsewhere. Casting furtive glances, as I do not want her to know where I am focused. Looking at that gap tooth, and at her cleavage. Two beautiful gaps. Cleavage hinting at prominent breasts under her chemise. Dresses casually, acts casually. I become her guide--and motorcycle chauffeur--for Angkor that afternoon. We explore some ruins tucked away down dirt trails. She tells me she loves the breeziness on the bike--so cool--and the freedom. She wants more, longer. Over dinner, we hash out a plan for a ride to farther-flung ruins.
Early morning, I pick her up and we head off on the dirt-bike into the countryside. There are nimble men climbing palm trees to extract palm fruit. Vendors sitting outside their homes selling cashew fruit. And when we make a stop, lots of kids crowding around to see our ghostly white faces. Fascinated by Saskia's large breasts too, I can see from the wide-eyed stares she is getting in that direction as she leans over to talks to the kids. Rack envy from the teenage girls? I must admit I am staring too: at the ripe fruit hanging there, tantalising me.
Riding the Yamaha dirt-bike means being at close quarters. The saddle is minimal, with nothing to grip onto under it. So Saskia has to hang onto me--tightly. She seems to be at ease with this. In fact, I can detect her hands doing more than hanging on. My motorcycle buddy is checking me out.
We make it to Bantei Srei--small Khmer ruins of pink limestone, with the most intricate bas-reliefs of mythological figures that I have yet seen in Cambodia: multi-armed deities, exquisite female figures sculpted into the stone. Beyond Bantei Srei is a hike into the hills, to a place called the River of a Thousand Lingas. Round shapes are carved into the rockbed under the water. Linga meaning male organ, or symbolic life-force in Khmer mythology. Matched up to another stone structure that represents the yoni--symbolic of the female organ. And the incredible thing is that these are carved under the water, in shallow rock. Part of fertility rites--to ensure that the water source flows. A thousand lingas. A thousand rock-hard penises. And the complement--the female receptor, the yoni. All there with water rippling over them. Kind of sets the mood for an encounter in the flesh.
Super! says Saskia with a gleam in her eyes. I'm having a really good time. She leans in and gives me a hug, then looks me straight in the eye. We are in the jungle, sitting by a waterfall, with giant fig-tree roots draped across the paths. Exotic birds chirping. I brush past her lips to plant a light kiss on her cheek. Which turns into a longer liplock--then an open-mouthed kiss. Followed by light groping. She is indeed blessed with large breasts. Saskia is quite a handful.
Groping continues on the motorcycle ride back. Saskia is in danger of causing an accident. Motorcycling in Cambodia along pot-holed roads is exhilarating--and highly dangerous. Distracting the driver can be deadly. At one point, I swerve around a huge water-buffalo that has decided to cross the road. Saskia giggles. Where else can you have an accident with an animal that big? she shouts. In Africa, I tell her, with an elephant. Both of us are coated in red dust from the ride.
A prelude to something more intimate? That's the way I read it. Back in town, we arrange to meet for dinner, at a restaurant close to my residence. A few drinks, getting tipsy. She's keen to see my family-run guesthouse. Just around the corner, I tell her. We have a drink on the verandah of the teak house. Which ends up being a lot more than a drink.
No condom, no penetration, she insists. It's the dreaded condom mantra. DeCock has been caught with pants down, but no condom at hand. But I get the idea she is open to other ways of making it. Her ample breasts have been liberated from her chemise. They pop into my hands, like ripe melons. The aureoles are large and brown, the nipples taut. I bury myself in her breasts, finding the sensation strangely comforting. Thinking about bare-breasted apsaras at Angkor. Thinking about breast worship and fertility cults.
She moans as I suck on her nipples. And soon DeCock is sliding between those beautiful breasts. She cups them to form a seal of soft flesh over my hardness. Glistening beads of sweat appear, from body-to-body heat: I can feel the sweat running down into her chest, providing a slippery wetness. Thrusting, parrying, sliding--it isn't long before I baptise her chest with milky fluid. The first urgent spurts hit her in the neck. She laughs at the intensity, spreading the fluid over her breasts, anointing her nipples.
I have to thank my trusty dirt bike for getting all this into gear--for accelerating a fine relationship. It is remarkable how fast this one has developed. From exploring remote jungle ruins to romping in bed--all in a single day. Well, a long day. Such things are possible when travelling--with no ties, no links, nothing to hold you back. Like the life-cycle of an insect--everything could be over in a week. So the timetable gets compressed.
Saskia likes my teak guesthouse. The following day, she moves into the room next to mine. She's taken time out to catch up with a few things. Needs some breathing space. But at night I take her to see the gorgeous apsara dance. Inspired by bas-reliefs of bare-breasted goddesses at Angkor Wat, the apsara dance is mythology in motion. The women are not bare-breasted, of course, but otherwise faithful to the originals in stone, with jewellery on arms and ankles, and long hair interwoven with jasmine and frangipanis.
Crack of dawn: back in the saddle again to explore more remote ruins, with picnic supplies and swim gear. Heading for Phnom Kulen, the source of the stone for many buildings at Angkor. We motor out to a huge reclining Buddha and to a stunning waterfall at Phnom Kulen that shoots into a large pool. Indulge in a picnic on rocks by the waterfall.
You’re a fling, she confesses, sidling up to me up in the pool. She has a steady boyfriend back home. And she's sticking to him. That's why she needed some time out a few days back--to phone him. Their relationship is open--not totally exclusive. But her boyfriend wants exclusive penetration rights: that enters reproductive territory. Hence her hesitation. I get the feeling that this is her boyfriend's idea, not hers.
So this night, I have come prepared--with a packet of condoms placed prominently on the bed for her to see. But first, a round of tennis. Probably the most peculiar foreplay in the world. Mosquitoes have been annoying Saskia. Her skin is sensitive to mosquito bites--more sensitive than most. She gets a reaction of sorts: a single bite can swell up. One very annoying mosquito has even bitten her on the left breast, near the nipple. The solution is to unfurl a mosquito net over the bed, but that's not enough: need to clear the room itself of any mosquitoes--they could be lurking in the shower too. For this exercise, our kind Cambodian hosts have donated a special kind of tennis racquet--with an on-off switch that electrifies the frets. If a mosquito hits the frets, a pleasant snap and crackle sound results as the little mite gets zapped. I dispatched half a dozen of them. Tennis over, I head for a quick shower.
I dry off, wrap a white towel around my torso. And step out to find that my humble room has been transformed--into something beyond wonderful. It looks like a bridal suite. Saskia has come prepared: she is lying there seductively, in white silk lingerie. And frangipanis. She has frangipanis in her cleavage--and frangipanis tangled in her hair. Must be my raving about the apsara dancers that inspired that touch. Frangipanis are strewn around the bed, giving off a heady perfume. The mosquito netting forms a kind of bridal veil. The veil to be lifted before this liaison can be consummated.
The deflowering-with-condom ceremony is ready. I slowly separate Saskia from her white lingerie. The cleavage frangipanis are cast aside, but the ones tangled in her hair remain. My Angkor nymphet--the true bare-breasted version of the apsara with frangipanis. She separates the condom from its packaging and straddles me confidently. Deflowering takes place on top, from the side, from the back, from the top, from the bottom, from every angle. Frangipani flowers get crushed, releasing their perfume into the air. Saskia suddenly starts whispering and moaning urgently--in Dutch. She hasn't talked Dutch to me before. Ja! Ja! I got that one. Sounds like dirty Dutch to me. Extremely sexy. And I can feel a long, slow bolt of energy coursing through my loins--and savagely thrust away. Then some English: You fucking animal! She shudders in an ecstatic embrace. Bathed in sweat, I thrust to the point of no return--a super-charged orgasm. And in doing that, can feel her yoni pulsating--she is climaxing, holding me in with her legs and hips--not wanting to let me slip away.
But how is this possible? Here, now, something quite rare has happened, at least for me--coming together. Nature's timing joke--it's usually one or the other party that comes, but for the life of me, I can't remember the last time that happened simultaneously. Later, cuddling under the mosquito net, Saskia confides that her yoni got heated up--from all that throbbing between her legs on the slim saddle of the dirt bike. And from exercising certain muscles deep within--from the squeezing together of legs in the saddle. That, she says, elevated her desire for something hard and deep to satisfy her yoni. So she had plenty of warm-up exercises: yoga for the g-spot.
In the space of a week, I have acquired a Cambodian family, a Dutch mistress, a Japanese dirt bike, a wealth of new knowledge about Khmer mythology--and an addiction to a strange scaly fruit. This is all temporary, of course—the dirt bike is a rental, the Dutch mistress will shortly move along--back to her boyfriend, and the Cambodian family and the Khmer mythology will be left behind, along with the tropical fruit. But right now I am enjoying the combination. Life feels complete: the distraction is working. I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Floating on air when riding that dirt bike--and Saskia clinging to me like a koala bear.
*****
Chapter 2: PHNOM PENH
THE ANGKOR REVERIE comes to an abrupt end with Saskia's departure for Holland. This leaves me with a sudden feeling of loss, of emptiness. I decide to move on. Move on to Phnom Penh, the capital. I find a guesthouse near the National Museum. And somehow, talking to an Australian traveller, end up one night at a bar called Martini's. Which is replete with Cambodian beauties on the make. A whole new set of beauty standards to evaluate: dark skin, almond eyes, long black hair with silky texture, smaller-framed. A cheeky young woman accosts me, looks me in the eye, and says she wants to leave the bar -- with me. Not what I have planned, but she is just too good to pass up. I feel her up on the motorcycle-taxi ride back home—two of us on a moto, squeezed up behind the driver.
At the hotel room: she takes a shower, comes out draped in a towel, indicates I should do likewise. When I emerge from the bathroom she is lying facedown on the bed, entranced in… the TV set. She's holding the remote, channel-surfing. Seems to have very little interest in any sexual activity. I should have thrown her out right then and there, but her towel has drifted up to expose her magnificent pear-shaped posterior. Funny how all logic flies out the window if there's a perfect piece of tail on offer.
A perfect ass on a perfect bitch. She's all business. She only knows a handful of English words. One of them is ‘condom’. The condom quickly comes into play, tackling her booty from the back, with that magnificent ass up in the air. She's on all fours, impervious to what is happening in the background. Transfixed by a TV program about a landmine victim. The program is in Cambodian, but I can follow the visuals. It seems to be a day in the life of a landmine victim--a double amputee with stumps for legs and half-serviceable hands. He is doing all sorts of things that look impossible with his stumpy legs, like climbing a tree to get fruit. There is canned audience laughter going on--obviously jokes about the amputee's wife and his sex-life.
Anywhere in the West, various groups would have sued the pants off the producer and most likely crucified him in the media. But here in Cambodia, it is entertainment. Amputees are common in Cambodia--a dark legacy of the laying of landmines by the infamous Khmer Rouge. Around Phnom Penh, amputee beggars are all over the place. I have even heard about the staging of a Miss Landmine beauty competition. And the Martini girl is laughing along with the TV program about the sex-life of an amputee. Strange sensation: when she laughs loudly, that somehow ripples through her stomach and causes exquisite stimulus below as her vagina contracts. The more she laughs, the more exciting for me. So maybe watching TV isn't so bad after all--as long as it's a comedy.
A series of punch-lines sends her into a paroxysm of laughter--which causes a wave of contractions below--and instantly makes me shoot my load. Man makes a deposit. Man makes a withdrawal. Condom to be disposed of. She suddenly gets up, as if waking out of a slumber, and extinguishes the TV. Program over, liaison over. She demands some cash. Then she quickly dresses, and offers another startling word of English vocabulary: Baby! What the fuck? Says she has a baby and must go home. It’s after midnight. She's supposed to stay overnight. The baby must be asleep by now, and cared for by someone else, I reason. Baby! Go now! she repeats.
Her sudden departure involves a highly dangerous manoeuvre because we must find her a motorcycle-taxi. And the street is black as Hades. This is where 99 percent of all robberies take place in Phnom Penh—on streets that are as black as Hades. I must escort her a few blocks to a bigger road that is lit up so she can find a moto. The prospect spooks me--but there's no choice. I wobble down the black street with her, disoriented by the darkness. We reach a street-light. She flags down a moto and rides off into the night. I turn back for the hotel--taking a deep breath before running the gauntlet of inky-black wasteland.
Heartstopper! A figure jumps out of the shadows. It takes a full five seconds to work out that this is not a robber with a gun but a beggar--asking for donations. I am so relieved that I thrust 5,000 riels into his hands. That may sound like a lot of money, but it's actually little more than a dollar. A midnight bonus for the beggar--who gives me a huge toothless smile. Finally, I make it to the safety of the hotel, where the security guard lets me in.
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Is that the end of the story? Hardly. We're just getting started. If you like this piece, stay tuned to DeCock's homepage on Smashwords for more fine erotic adventures from Trevor DeCock in Asia.