One Kamagra, Two Kamagra, Three Kamagra, Four

Published on 24th January 2016 by Stickboy BKK

stickboy do not try this at home

This story of stupidity comes with one of those WWE style posters warning readers not to try this at home to kick things off as what you are about to read is definitely something you don’t want to try unless you fancy a lengthy and expensive stay in a Thai hospital or worse, heart failure.

The stupidity started one night I had been out and about wandering the bars of Sukhumvit when an SMS arrived from a bargirl I’d made some donations to in the past for services rendered asking did I fancy a late-night drink with her and one of her bargirl buddies.

I’d only had about five or six beers but was pretty tired so I replied saying not tonight, I was off home, another time maybe.

Within 60 seconds her reply comes back saying they were horny – and skint – and if I wanted the two of them long time the price was (a very reasonable) 5,000 baht.

Having grabbed my full attention with talk of a menage a trois I replied asking which girl from her bar and better yet, send me a photo. By the time I lifted my beer the phone dings and there’s them posing in a selfie together somewhere on Soi 4.

After looking at the pic my plan to go home was instantly cancelled and we arranged to meet in the old Sanook Bar that was to be found down the alley running from Soi 5 to 7.

As I said I was tired and knowing my bargirl mate she wasn’t a starfish kinda girl and would be expecting more out of this than just her share of 5k. That was all well and good if Stick Jnr was up to the job but I feared he may leave me with a red face so I told the barman to keep an eye on my beer while I hot footed it round to Sukhumvit to get myself a bit of lead for my pencil.

Four hundred baht poorer I was in possession of a four pack of fake Kamagra. Back to the pub and down the hatch with one blue pill. Another beer ordered and I sat back to watch the footie as I waited for the women to show up and a rush of blood to my snoozing sausage.

Keeping with tradition they didn’t make an appearance any time soon and this is where it started to go wrong. About 45 minutes had passed since popping the pill and I was feeling no effects from my brewers droop repair kit.

One should have been enough to make a decent tent pole but then again they were fakes so maybe not as strong as the box claimed. With embarrassment looming I washed another one down with some cold beer thinking that would do the trick

Finally the half-canned strumpets show up and we ordered some drinks, decided on which hotel we were spending the night in and ordered another round. All should have been good in the world but it wasn’t. Despite a lot of tits and ass on show Jnr was still sleeping. If the music wasn’t so loud you’d probably have been able to hear him snoring. Not even a twinge. Not good.


Mentally Somchai from the Sukhumvit sex stall was getting abuse for selling me a packet of duds – robbing bastard probably the politest insult.

At this point in the proceedings I should have pulled the plug on the whole deal, given the girls some taxi money and went home to bed but if that’s what happened then I wouldn’t be sharing this story, would I?

What I did next is where stupid level 100+ comes into play. Off to the bathroom I went and pulled out the packet of fake Kamagra and popped the two remaining pills thinking if four didn’t give me a stiffy then an appointment at Bumrungrad would be on the cards for the following week to get to the bottom of my impotence.

After a quick inspection of my tackle, I put the mouse back in the house and headed out to the bar with the plan of drinking another beer or two to give the tablets time to kick in before heading over the road to the hotel.

When I sat down I was rapidly informed the threesome was canceled as some sudden emergency with one of their “sisters” had cropped up and they needed to leave now. With promises to call they were gone in the blink of an eye.

A shrug of the shoulders to the barman who asked where the tarts had run off to as I sip my beer thinking them leaving is not such a bad thing considering the lack of movement from down stairs.

Beer finished and time for a taxi home.

As I made my way through the late night street bars I started to feel flush. It wasn’t the heat or me walking too quickly as the obstacle course that is the odd numbered side of Sukhumvit at 4am would make walking anywhere in a hurry impossible.

Of course, it was the “duds” kicking in but I didn’t think any more of it at the time and was tucked up in bed 20 minutes later and out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Like any normal bloke, waking up with morning wood isn’t anything unusual but what I had was no ordinary boner. It was so damn hard you could have hit a 100 home runs with it and the bloody thing would have still been ready for action.

And so for the next four days I was the owner of a cock like a crowbar and it was anything but funny.

Something as small as a smile from a bit of skirt and up he’d pop which is fine if you are in the privacy of your own home or a short time hotel with some chrome pole crumpet, not so good if you’ve just popped into the local 7-Eleven for some milk and the cute cashier gives you a good morning smile and it’s schwing.

I did call my bar girl mate to see if she was coming over with her buddy to put this pan handle to good use but there was no answer which was probably a good thing too as on the second day it was so damn hard it was sore.

And don’t even ask about trying to take a slash. An out of control hose probably best sums up that experience but if the truth be told, I was lucky to be only complaining about hot flushes and uncontrollable wood.

Who the hell knows what crap I’d bought off the street and downing all four tablets within in a 90 minute period were the actions of an idiot.

Not something I’d recommend any readers should try, no matter what. Best you just stick to laughing at Dickboy here.

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