Big Mango Bar
drink and blog

Breaking the Doctors Cherry – by Tusk

Posted by Tusk | Blog, Reader Submissions | Posted on October 20th, 2011

A few days ago Daywalker posted a link to a website advertising a new blow job bar opening on Soi 7/1.  I have long held the opinion that if blow job bars were common around the world, we could probably put an end to war and most human suffering.  I mean, there’s nothing like a good, professional blow job to drain all the tension and stress from your life.  So, to support this worldwide movement for peace and human happiness, I decided I would check the place out on its opening day.

Dr. BJ’s Salon is near the far end of soi 7/1 on the right hand side.  I walked past and a lumpy girl in a red dress invited me to go inside.  It was my intended destination, but I walked past, then circled back for some reason.   The lumpy girl escorted me in.  There is a large veranda on the front.  Inexplicably they’ve put some sort of shaggy green carpet across it leading up to the door.  Maybe it’s supposed to look inviting.  I followed it to the entrance and went inside.  It was 12:15 pm and I was their first and only customer.

Dr. BJ’s has a stark white appearance, in keeping with his clinic theme.  There is a small reception desk inside the front door, and a small bar with a half dozen tall bar stools behind it.  Most everything, including the bar stools, is white.

I intended to take a seat at the bar, but the lumpy girl in the red dress told me to sit on a chair inside the front door.  It turned out that there was one chair on each side of the door, and you have to sit with your back to the street… it’s awkward, but the reason is that Dr. BJ’s uses a modified fish bowl/lineup approach.

Above the reception area and the bar is a little mezzanine.  As you sit in the chair, you are invited to look up to the mezzanine, where 4 girls are on display; two “nurses” on the right and two “consultants” on the left.  The lumpy girl ran through the prices with me quickly – the nurses were 700 baht for a blow job, and (I think) 1,700 for a full service soapy, while the consultants were 1,000 and 2,500 respectively.

I wasn’t impressed by the lineup, so I asked if I could order a drink and use the toilet. I returned from the toilet and the four girls re-appeared at the railing on the mezzanine above.  This was a bit creepy.  About that time the mamasan came in.  She was brisk and efficient, but she had a pleasant manner.  She re-positioned the girls, instructed one of them to push her sleeves up on her arms, she moved the tip box to a more prominent position and generally tightened up the operation.  I’ve seen bosses on opening day before and most of them badly over-manage the place.  This lady was different… she was relaxed, and while she was giving instructions to people, it was done politely and without causing stress.

She noticed after a few minutes that the girls were still lined up at the railing on the mezzanine.  She told them firmly but politely to sit down, saying that if the customer didn’t see a girl he liked, they shouldn’t stay there.  Good mamasan.

I relaxed with my drink for fifteen minutes or so, and considered leaving, but I realized two things. First, I’d come for a blow job, and given the logistics of the event, I didn’t need a beauty queen or an athlete, just someone good at her job.  Second, I was aware that I was the first customer to walk in the door.  It seemed like a good idea to get service… it would be good for the girls, and in years to come I could always say proudly that I was the first paying customer.

So, when I finished my drink I asked the mamasan to choose a girl for me… whoever her favorite girl was would be fine.  She called one of the “consultants” and recommended her.  I have no idea what her reason was for choosing her… maybe she was the first one to show up for work, maybe it was her sister in law… whatever the reason, she chose a girl named Ying as my service girl.

Ying was 30-ish, with long black hair.  She was in a suit jacket and skirt, which limited the view (and she never took them off the entire time I was with her) but it looked like she probably had nice tits.  She spoke only a small amount of English, and mostly spoke Thai to me.  Her first word was dterndten; she was saying that she was excited and nervous.  From what she said, and from her overall attitude, I’d say she was new to the job, but I didn’t ask and she didn’t say.

I bought her a drink (a small bottle of coke) and we skipped the small talk, opting to go straight upstairs.  Here, I experienced a modified “walk of shame”.  You go up the stairs, past the mezzanine level, and up to the second floor for service.  The mezzanine area is about 30 meters square, and there were about 20 girls sitting around on the floor in their uniforms.  As we came up the stairs they broke into applause, and congratulated me on being the first customer.  It was a bit embarrassing, and strangely thrilling.  A couple of them shouted to me that I was good luck.

I have to say that I don’t really understand the thinking behind the four-girl lineup on the mezzanine level.  It limits the choices; there were about 16 girls I didn’t get to see, and even the ones I did see were about 10 feet above me at an awkward angle.  With the railing, the distance and the angle, it was actually pretty tough to tell much about the girls.  I’d much rather have a traditional fish bowl any day, or at least the opportunity to see all the girls before choosing. No matter.  The boss has clearly designed the system he wants to use; he will have his own reasons.

After the round of applause from the assembled girls, we headed up the stairway to the second floor.  The doorway is a bit low, and I ducked my head, thinking I might otherwise bump it.  I followed Ying, in her fishnet stockings, up the stairs.

At the top of the stairway we met the lumpy girl in the red dress again, who showed us to a private room. It was small, but clean; about the size of a small bathroom or a large walk-in closet.  I’m not sure why, but instead of any kind of ceiling, it had a metal grid overhead that gives the small room a vaguely prison cell feel.  Mounted on the back wall was the kind of basin that you find in a hair salon for getting shampoo.  There was a comfortable looking chair covered in soft leather that looked like a particularly plush executive office chair.  It had a matching ottoman or footstool, and the chair reclined.  It was pretty clear how things were gonna work.

Ying invited me to remove my pants, which she hung up on a wall rack.  She told me to keep my socks on, so I did.  She relieved me of my underwear, hanging them on the rack beside my high quality slacks.. We went to the basin, where Ying intended to wash my tackle with soap and water.  I felt the water with my hand, complaining that it was cold.  It was to no avail, however.  Ying soaped up her hands, then soaped up my cock, and washed it with the cool water.  The cleaning was fairly perfunctory, then she towel-dried me, and invited me to sit in the chair.

She took her place on the ottoman, leaned over and started licking my ball sack.  That was a good start.  She stopped, looked up at me and said, “hawm hawm”.  That’s the first time I remember a girl telling me that my balls smelled good.  She’s clearly been well trained. I would have been happy with 4 or 5 minutes of ball sack attention (Ying had just the right touch, neither too hard nor too soft), but it was only about 15 seconds.  I couldn’t complain however, since she immediately took my entire shaft in her mouth and started sucking.  She did a proper job on it for about four or five minutes before she took her first small break, looking up at me and saying one word: “aroi!”  So, not only did my ball sack smell good, but my cock tasted delicious!  Hard to believe, but, as I say, she’s obviously been well trained.

The break lasted only long enough for her to say the one word, and she was back to work, her head bobbing up and down.

I’m not sure why Ying, as a ‘consultant’, gets 300 baht more for her blow job than a ‘nurse’.  Her BJ was competent, but it was no better than most I’ve had, and not as good as some.  I don’t know what I expected… bubbles blowing out of her ass or something… but I figured that a 1,000 baht blowjob would be noticeably better than a 700 baht blow job.  I can’t tell you the exact difference between a good blow job and a great one, but I’ve had both kinds.  Ying was good, not great.   A couple of times she made fumbling efforts to tickle my balls as she bobbed her head, but she wasn’t really successful.

Next time I’ll probably pay the 700 baht since there were no bubbles blowing out of her ass. In any event, Ying apparently has been trained to treat a blow job like CPR… once you start, you don’t give up until you succeed or the patient is declared dead.  I have the ability to enjoy a blow job for hours without ejaculating; I have to actually concentrate a bit in order to come.   Ying was about 15 or 20 minutes into her task and showing no signs of frustration or fatigue when I decided I should, in fact, concentrate and get things over with, if for no other reason than simple kindness.  I did what I had to do, and actually had a little involuntary grunt escape as I shot my load into Ying’s mouth.

She never flinched, and stayed with it till she’d drained me.  She must’ve spit into the towel in her hand, because a second or two after she finished she gave me a big smile and announced “Aroi” again.  This girl has been trained well.

Years ago I read one man’s definition of the perfect woman; he said that the perfect woman smiles, swallows and says thank you.  A nearly perfect woman, I guess, smiles, tells you that your balls smell good and that your cock and cum taste delicious.
She wiped me down with a clean towel, then it was back to the sink for a post-fellatio cleaning.  The water was still cold.

I got my undies, pants and shoes back on, and we went downstairs.  The girls on the veranda were all smiling, congratulating me and Ying, and asking if I’d enjoyed it.  I smiled back and assured them that everything had gone to plan.

Downstairs a small Thai fellow opened the front door to let me leave.  This was generous, since I hadn’t paid yet, but I stopped at the reception area to settle with the cashier.  Drinks included, the bill was 1,140 baht.  I looked for Ying to give her a tip, but she was gone.  Apparently, she came to the training class on the day when they taught them to compliment the smell and taste of a man’s love gun, but was absent on the day when they explained that the girl should escort him to the door and collect her tip.  Or maybe it would have been better form to tip her in the room, but I only had thousand-baht notes in my wallet.  In any event, since Ying was nowhere in sight I just slipped a 100-baht note into the tip box, figuring she had that coca-cola and the satisfying memory of my tasty cock to keep her happy.

The little Thai doorman was gone now, but two farang guys had shown up and were being introduced to the four-girl lineup and the prices by the lumpy girl in the red dress.  The rhythm of life in Bangkok is never-ending.  I slipped out quietly as the four girls appeared on the mezzanine.

The Doctor’s cherry was broken.  I headed home.