A Tale of Two Tails: Pornstar vs Gogo Dancer

March 8, 2020 By bangkok7

A Tale of Two Tails: Pornstar vs Gogo Dancer

Hey bro, how’s it hangin’? I’m Bangkok Seven and this is my blog. I’ve got a somewhat unique offering for you today. For the final installment of my “2 Tails” series, I’d like to explore the similarities and differences between trysts with two very distinct types of gal: an American pornstar in Los Angeles, and a Patpong gogo dancer in Bangkok. So strap in, reader. This could get wild…

As you may or may not know, I was born and raised in L.A. In my 30s I escaped from that cesspool to England, and after bouncing around the planet for a few years, finally set down roots in Thailand. While living in Cali, I briefly wrote scripts for pornos. Yes Millennials, porn movies used to have stories. And while I don’t include my stint as a porn writer on my CV, it was a pretty good gig. Easy work, high pay. And for better or worse, this afforded me the opportunity to spend a good deal of time in the company of porn stars—one of the most enigmatic demographics of the human race (enigmaphics for short, copyright BKK7).

A good friend of mine happened to be married to a porn star who also owned her own adult film company. He’s the one who got me the job writing scripts, and so I fell in with a group of adult film actors who worked exclusively for his wife’s company, and whose habits were in many ways incredibly normal. For example, half a dozen of us would meet at TGI Friday’s every Thursday for happy hour, and a different group had brunch together at the Sagebrush Cantina every Sunday. But that’s where the normality ended. For example, the TGI Friday’s group were mostly couples. Some pairs were both porn stars, but some were in relationships with ‘civilians’ (what porn actors call people who don’t do porn). One very famous actress was married to a cameraman who shot most of her scenes. When I finally worked up the courage to ask him how he could film his wife getting gang banged week after week, he explained that he had a voyeur fetish, and got off by watching her with other men. He told me this right about the time his wife began relentlessly pressing me to come over to their house to have dinner and play Monopoly. Every week, she invited me and every week, I politely declined.

The Sagebrush gang were downright boring—until they got liquored-up. After the 4th mimosa, things got wacky. One of the male actors had a foot fetish and would start sucking the toes of any female in sandals. The girls routinely did tequila body shots of each other’s tits. Every week, the restaurant staff would tolerate us to a point. We typically got kicked out when one or more of the girls took her top off.

Then there was the porn convention in Vegas. This was a crazy event. During the day, the girls would occupy one of the many booths on the convention floor, hocking merch, signing autographs, and posing with fans for pictures. People would line up and wait for hours to meet them. I had nothing important to do except walk the girls from their rooms to the booth and back (to ward off stalkers), make food runs, and keep them company during their breaks. They were regular people for the most part, except for being totally sexually uninhibited. Once, out of pure boredom while on a break in the back room behind the booth, a very famous actress asked me out of the blue whether or not I thought she could fit a two-foot dildo all the way up her ass. I said I had no idea. She then got on the floor, slipped off her panties, and proceeded to try, the way a civilian might try to fit marshmallows in her mouth. She had no qualms about it at all.

On the set, the girls liked to play practical jokes on me. One very famous actress liked to sneak up behind me while I was eating and place one tit on my shoulder. Another enjoyed jumping on me while naked and wrapping her legs around my waist. She was so strong that, try as I might, I could never peel her off of me.

Despite all this contact, though, there was a cardinal rule among the porn community: don’t sleep with civilians. Many did it anyway, of course, and I had several chances. But I never did, for a few valid reasons. First, I’m not hung like a porn star, so to avoid embarrassment, I remained fully clothed at all times around the girls. Second, I didn’t want to jeopardize my job, which paid very well and was ridiculously easy. The best work rule to follow is “Don’t shit where you eat,” and I’ve followed it all my life. Third, I got an eyeful of what’s it like to be with a porn star by watching my friends’ relationships implode and wanted no part of that toxicity. My aforementioned buddy and his wife were enough to put me off any ideas of hooking up with one. She was addicted to pills and booze, and he was jacked up on steroids and would sporadically go into fits of rage. They fought constantly, as did every other couple I met in the industry. Without exception, they all ended up alone and mentally scarred.

My experience with Bangkok gogo dancers is the exact opposite. These girls are modest in public, even shy most of the time. They wouldn’t think of making a scene or showing any display of affection in front of others. Their sense of sexual liberation extends only as far as the edge of the stage, and sometimes not even that far. I can’t count how many sultry vixens I coerced into bed from the red-light district who, once disrobed, had no idea what to do.

For the majority of Thais that I’ve met, the notion of sex has no taboo attached to it. There’s no sense of moral guilt because Thai culture isn’t colored with a Biblical brush. It’s how a bar girl can exist in the middle of a storm of booze and casual copulation and still retain a kind of innocence that every American girl has lost by age 16. Though there is one similarity between porn stars and gogo dancers. For both kinds of girl, sex is a commodity exchanged for cash. Love isn’t connected to the act—rather, it operates independently of it. The porn star who was married to the cameraman loves the cameraman who is filming her as she gets railed by one of their friends. Most of my harem have boyfriends at home who they love, and see no problem leaving him in front of the TV to come and share my bed for rent money. I tell them I have no heart, and they call me a friend. Everyone is happy. Nobody fights. Every once in a while, a Thai boyfriend will get jealous and one of my girls will disappear for a month or two. But rent always comes due, and so eventually the Thai guy must swallow his pride and loose his girl out into the world again, at which time she makes a bee-line for my front door.

The last thing I’ll say about porn stars and gogo dancers is, they’re human beings just like the rest of us. They want what all of us want:  to be fed, sheltered, and treated with kindness. They hope, as we do, for a happy life with as little heartache as possible. Who are we to judge them for their choices? Based on my life choices, if not for accidentally finding Thailand I’d likely have died in a gutter somewhere years ago. So live and let live, I say. And also, cheers to everyone brave enough to get naked for money. I don’t have the talent or the waistline for it, but I’m grateful there are folks that do. Peace.