Flesh for Fantasy, 2015
thong nai pan yai, thailand (feb 2015)
From my lofty perch, beach chair tucked safely in the shade, watching the flesh parade.
In the blistering tropical heat, it is a given folks discard their vestments in lieu of beach attire.
The crowd... mostly Euro... modesty not on display. Less is less.
And at first blush, this may not seem like a bad thing, and yet… the older the farang, the worse it get. Not much topless as Thais don’t cotton to it. Young female flossy bottoms, however, don’t leave much to the imagination….
Day trippers, up from the south coast, aka Full Moon Party Central, tend to be hot-bodied hipsters. Tight ass, tattooed hip hugging, riding high, strings tugging at the booty, revealing sunburned flesh or bronzed thighs. There is a constant parade of beach babes walking their hunks of male meat.
Along come the beached whales. Working hard on that tan to generate envy amongst mortals stuck in colder climes. Boiled lobster red, they missed the memo regarding the ill effects of sun on skin.
Multiplied tenfold by the power of rays near the equator.
Crimson faced, burnt to a crisp, in denial, eschewing sunscreen in favour of coconut oil. Reading passively in the blistering sun. Folds of fat weaving up and down, bobbing and flubbing.
Two piece bathing suits long past due dates. Colours and patterns last seen sixties Mom. Speedos on elderly men should be banned by customs inspectors. Babies in carriers without hats (head coverings as a rulel in short supply).
Saved only by some young thing with a body that generates amnesia. Yet not enough to clear the mind of the spectacle of flesh in need of some manner of cover. Why not buy that sarong- and use it? Grab that towel and drape it!
Squat legs. Bean poles. Beluga bellies. Flabby cheeks. Bald heads.
Early morning walkers tend to cover up, afternoon squatters less so.