Holy Shit
Sorry Fazers, it seems that I teased your war cock a bit. From the looks of it, Afghanistan is currently too dangerous for my skinny white ass to be driving around the countryside. I am finally home now, so enjoy this last dispatch from Switzerland,Tchad and the Sudan
I spent the first half of june in Switzerland following a moderately violent incident in Islamabad, Pakistan when a motley crew of pakistani gentlemen took me to a back alley and offered me the option of :
A)Killing me and then robbing me of my possessions
or
B)Knocking the fuck out of me and robbing me of my possession. I do not recall answering the question, They choosed B for me.
My employers flew me to the head office in Geneva, where I expected to eat a truckload of shit for losing twelve thousand euros worth of computer and photographic equipment (I am, after all, but a simple contracted employee). Luckily for me, they just wanted me to see a doctor, take some time off and relax a bit while I waited for an assignment.
You should know dear readers that Switzerland feels like home to me, I spent the better part of my childhood in a boarding school here.
My closest friend throughout my 9 years at the Lyceum was Vaughn, the illegitimate child of a scottish banker and a jamaican fashion model. Vaughn was the only dark skin student and I was the only middle class student. We protected and looked out for each other... If your local rich kid in high school was a prick, imagine a school full of them. As years following graduation past, Vaughn and I somehow lost touch like it is often the case. Monthly phone calls turned into a once a year deal.
Rumors and speculative stories about his whereabouts abounded, accusations of money laundering, embezzlement, failed dotcom ventures, disastrous forays into the entertainment business were the kind of news I would hear about him. I knew however, that he held residence in switzerland, somewhere near the Italian border... My lyceum gave me his address, I thought showing up unannounced would give him a nice surprise.
The place is a few miles east of Lugano, which in Italian means "George Clooney has a house here". I was met at the front gate by two black turtlenecked mountains of man flesh, dark glasses, walkie-talkies. The very caricature of security men. I stated the nature of my visit and was told to wait for a minute
I could hear music and splashing and laughter behind the tall cedar hedge. From up the steep drive, I saw Vaughn, bathrobe wide open, dick flopping in the wind, running towards me. I've roomed with this guy, he simply does not like to wear clothes. We hugged, I really, really wished he tied his bathrobe before, I guess old habits die hard.
-"V. What the fuck is all this ?" I asked
-"You like, huh ?" Smug bastard....
We walked up towards the back of the house, where a party seemed to be underway, as I entered the courtyard everything seemed in slow-motion, there was just to much to see. First off, the view; on this sunny june afternoon, the view from Vaughn's house was nothing short of breathtaking, next, the pool. A very large pool that seemed to run the width of the house edged at the far end by an infinity waterfall, dropping off over the lake below, and finally, the women. Six of the most knock-you-on-your-ass beautiful women I have ever seen, all lounging around, swimming, some bare-ass naked, some wearing bikinis... blondes, brunettes, one redhead... all of them tens amongst tens.
-"V. Seriously... what the fuck is this place ?" Vaughn knew what I was thinking
-"I'm in the spa business now... come, I will show you around."
We talked as he gave me the grand tour of the house, at one point a pretty young blonde with fake tits emerged from one room to the other giggling as she was playfully being chased by a chinese guy wearing a towel.
-"Vaughn you son of a bitch... you're a pimp'"
Vaughn became serious and for a moment I dawned on me that I might have stepped over the line
-"I prefer facilitator"
To be continued
Sorry Fazers, it seems that I teased your war cock a bit. From the looks of it, Afghanistan is currently too dangerous for my skinny white ass to be driving around the countryside. I am finally home now, so enjoy this last dispatch from Switzerland,Tchad and the Sudan
I spent the first half of june in Switzerland following a moderately violent incident in Islamabad, Pakistan when a motley crew of pakistani gentlemen took me to a back alley and offered me the option of :
A)Killing me and then robbing me of my possessions
or
B)Knocking the fuck out of me and robbing me of my possession. I do not recall answering the question, They choosed B for me.
My employers flew me to the head office in Geneva, where I expected to eat a truckload of shit for losing twelve thousand euros worth of computer and photographic equipment (I am, after all, but a simple contracted employee). Luckily for me, they just wanted me to see a doctor, take some time off and relax a bit while I waited for an assignment.
You should know dear readers that Switzerland feels like home to me, I spent the better part of my childhood in a boarding school here.
My closest friend throughout my 9 years at the Lyceum was Vaughn, the illegitimate child of a scottish banker and a jamaican fashion model. Vaughn was the only dark skin student and I was the only middle class student. We protected and looked out for each other... If your local rich kid in high school was a prick, imagine a school full of them. As years following graduation past, Vaughn and I somehow lost touch like it is often the case. Monthly phone calls turned into a once a year deal.
Rumors and speculative stories about his whereabouts abounded, accusations of money laundering, embezzlement, failed dotcom ventures, disastrous forays into the entertainment business were the kind of news I would hear about him. I knew however, that he held residence in switzerland, somewhere near the Italian border... My lyceum gave me his address, I thought showing up unannounced would give him a nice surprise.
The place is a few miles east of Lugano, which in Italian means "George Clooney has a house here". I was met at the front gate by two black turtlenecked mountains of man flesh, dark glasses, walkie-talkies. The very caricature of security men. I stated the nature of my visit and was told to wait for a minute
I could hear music and splashing and laughter behind the tall cedar hedge. From up the steep drive, I saw Vaughn, bathrobe wide open, dick flopping in the wind, running towards me. I've roomed with this guy, he simply does not like to wear clothes. We hugged, I really, really wished he tied his bathrobe before, I guess old habits die hard.
-"V. What the fuck is all this ?" I asked
-"You like, huh ?" Smug bastard....
We walked up towards the back of the house, where a party seemed to be underway, as I entered the courtyard everything seemed in slow-motion, there was just to much to see. First off, the view; on this sunny june afternoon, the view from Vaughn's house was nothing short of breathtaking, next, the pool. A very large pool that seemed to run the width of the house edged at the far end by an infinity waterfall, dropping off over the lake below, and finally, the women. Six of the most knock-you-on-your-ass beautiful women I have ever seen, all lounging around, swimming, some bare-ass naked, some wearing bikinis... blondes, brunettes, one redhead... all of them tens amongst tens.
-"V. Seriously... what the fuck is this place ?" Vaughn knew what I was thinking
-"I'm in the spa business now... come, I will show you around."
We talked as he gave me the grand tour of the house, at one point a pretty young blonde with fake tits emerged from one room to the other giggling as she was playfully being chased by a chinese guy wearing a towel.
-"Vaughn you son of a bitch... you're a pimp'"
Vaughn became serious and for a moment I dawned on me that I might have stepped over the line
-"I prefer facilitator"
To be continued
i heart these
Moderatly sized pimpin' in the Alps
The Spread : 18 bedrooms, 14 bathrooms, over 28 thousand square feet of living space, two kitchens, two floors basement, 2 pools,sauna, 3 jacuzzis. 9 house staffers, 2 live-in staffers.
The Girls : 24 of the hottest women in the world, usually working two shifts of 12 on a four day rotations
The Cost : 25 Gs gets you an account, then it is 3 to 12 Gs a day... A DAY !!!!
The Johns : Russian and Chinese nouveau riche, professional athletes, high-level entertainment types, one notable politician.
The Food : You name it, they make it
The Drinks : 560 bottles wine cellar, fully stocked bar
The Drugs : Even smoking outside is forbidden
Add all this to the fact that this entire house is designed to entertain men. Pool tables, big screen TVs, comfiest couches in the world, even a Nintendo console not even on the market yet (Buggy to the point of gathering dust, so I was told). The entire house is designed so that you want to stay an extra day.
Any fazers who's ever been to a brothel know the feeling you get after you bust your nut : What am I doing here and how can I get the hell out as fast as possible. This place however, is different. Keep in mind that some of the johns here do not even know how things cost. I later learned that a lot of those guys are sent here by even richer folks, wishing to reward them for whatever they do.
Vaughn and I caught up with each other comfortably sitting in his office. Fazers, I shit you not when I say that I have eaten pudding that was stiffer then the leather on Vaughn's chairs. He asked about my business, I asked about his, he seems to have a clear conscience about the whole thing, he claims he only responds to market demand and treats the girls very well
These were quiet times, The world cup was in full swing and most of the johns were in Germany.
-"When are you heading back to work ?" Vaughn asked. I had no idea, i was told to check in with the office daily. "Why don't you stay here ?"
-"I don't think I can afford this place V. This is way beyond my league and you know it !"
-"Nonsense... I am keeping you for the night, it is non- negotiable"
-"V, I'm serious, forgive my ingratitude, but I am not giving you a dime" Oops, I may have hurt him with this last one.
He got up, sat on the edge of his desk, a serious look on his face, I wanted to find a hole in the ground to hide in. "This is not a fuck hut... This is not an airport Hilton either... This is my house, and I want you to be a guest in my house" . Way to make me feel like a douchebag V.
to be continued
The Spread : 18 bedrooms, 14 bathrooms, over 28 thousand square feet of living space, two kitchens, two floors basement, 2 pools,sauna, 3 jacuzzis. 9 house staffers, 2 live-in staffers.
The Girls : 24 of the hottest women in the world, usually working two shifts of 12 on a four day rotations
The Cost : 25 Gs gets you an account, then it is 3 to 12 Gs a day... A DAY !!!!
The Johns : Russian and Chinese nouveau riche, professional athletes, high-level entertainment types, one notable politician.
The Food : You name it, they make it
The Drinks : 560 bottles wine cellar, fully stocked bar
The Drugs : Even smoking outside is forbidden
Add all this to the fact that this entire house is designed to entertain men. Pool tables, big screen TVs, comfiest couches in the world, even a Nintendo console not even on the market yet (Buggy to the point of gathering dust, so I was told). The entire house is designed so that you want to stay an extra day.
Any fazers who's ever been to a brothel know the feeling you get after you bust your nut : What am I doing here and how can I get the hell out as fast as possible. This place however, is different. Keep in mind that some of the johns here do not even know how things cost. I later learned that a lot of those guys are sent here by even richer folks, wishing to reward them for whatever they do.
Vaughn and I caught up with each other comfortably sitting in his office. Fazers, I shit you not when I say that I have eaten pudding that was stiffer then the leather on Vaughn's chairs. He asked about my business, I asked about his, he seems to have a clear conscience about the whole thing, he claims he only responds to market demand and treats the girls very well
These were quiet times, The world cup was in full swing and most of the johns were in Germany.
-"When are you heading back to work ?" Vaughn asked. I had no idea, i was told to check in with the office daily. "Why don't you stay here ?"
-"I don't think I can afford this place V. This is way beyond my league and you know it !"
-"Nonsense... I am keeping you for the night, it is non- negotiable"
-"V, I'm serious, forgive my ingratitude, but I am not giving you a dime" Oops, I may have hurt him with this last one.
He got up, sat on the edge of his desk, a serious look on his face, I wanted to find a hole in the ground to hide in. "This is not a fuck hut... This is not an airport Hilton either... This is my house, and I want you to be a guest in my house" . Way to make me feel like a douchebag V.
to be continued
We spent the day watching football, having a few drinks, fraternizing with the four johns present (a chinese guy, one French TV actor and a russian mobster type with a weird-ass laugh and an Italian guy who did not want to talk business), There was an almost country club atmosphere, I was impressed by the surroundings but it did not seem to faze these other guys. The girls kept us company, engaging in the conversation, at one point during dinner I completely forgot they were hookers. I did not talk much, fearing others would find out that I am just a shmuck with a five-figure regular job. After dinner drinks were kinda weird, we were all on the patio, six guys, six girls. Russian guy was in deep conversation with the two russian girls. Chinese guy was entertaining Laurence, (the blonde french girl with the fake tits) TV actor was imitating Berlusconi to the delight of the large breasted italian girl whose name I don't remember.
Meanwhile I thought I could make myself useful by slinging drinks for everyone at the patio bar. As for Vaughn, he was now nowhere to be seen.
I'll be honest, I felt out of place, incredibly out of place and I was mentally trying to scheme my exit. I had a nice chunk of change with me and I admit that I am of a somewhat impulsive nature so being here increased the chance of doing something stupid with my money
"One last drink and you are out of here" I told myself... And it is at that very moment that Sonia sat at the bar.
to be continued
Meanwhile I thought I could make myself useful by slinging drinks for everyone at the patio bar. As for Vaughn, he was now nowhere to be seen.
I'll be honest, I felt out of place, incredibly out of place and I was mentally trying to scheme my exit. I had a nice chunk of change with me and I admit that I am of a somewhat impulsive nature so being here increased the chance of doing something stupid with my money
"One last drink and you are out of here" I told myself... And it is at that very moment that Sonia sat at the bar.
to be continued
Sonia, a few years ago, she posed for three international editions of Vogue and Cosmo. I recognized her, for I usually sit with my paper's fashion editor as we go through thousands of runway pictures during various fashion weeks. I called her by her real name, which set her back a bit but it did flatter her. The bar offered some kind of defense, a psychological barrier of some sort. However, I did not count on the fact that most of the johns were rapidly dissapearing to their rooms in nice company one by one and by 11:30, it was just me and Sonia.
We talked a bit, avoiding the most obvious of topics, I even came clean about me being just a regular joe with a regular job, somewhat hoping she would slap me across the face for wasting her time, alas, it didn't seem to set her off one bit.
She came behind the bar, ordering me to sit, for she said it was my turn get a drink, she switched the music to some latin beat.
"Oh, I love this song" she said coming out from behind the bar, she took me by the hands "Come... dance with me" she invited.
Ten years ago, my ex-wife insisted that since we vacationed in Cuba every year, we should take dancing lessons, mostly Salsa and Merengue, I thought it was the gayest thing ever, at first, but soon found out that I actually enjoyed it. Once I was single again, I discovered that if laughter is the key to a woman's heart, dancing is the laminate pass to her vagina.
And so we danced. Correction, I danced, she glided... It was like something out of a movie... I was good, but she was pure magic.
Think about it, I was at this Multi-million dollar estate, starlit night, a brazilian fashion model in my arms, and to think, just 8 days ago I was knocked out unconscious in an Islamabad alleyway. being pissed on by guys who just robbed me of everything I had. Life is funny that way.
To be continued
We talked a bit, avoiding the most obvious of topics, I even came clean about me being just a regular joe with a regular job, somewhat hoping she would slap me across the face for wasting her time, alas, it didn't seem to set her off one bit.
She came behind the bar, ordering me to sit, for she said it was my turn get a drink, she switched the music to some latin beat.
"Oh, I love this song" she said coming out from behind the bar, she took me by the hands "Come... dance with me" she invited.
Ten years ago, my ex-wife insisted that since we vacationed in Cuba every year, we should take dancing lessons, mostly Salsa and Merengue, I thought it was the gayest thing ever, at first, but soon found out that I actually enjoyed it. Once I was single again, I discovered that if laughter is the key to a woman's heart, dancing is the laminate pass to her vagina.
And so we danced. Correction, I danced, she glided... It was like something out of a movie... I was good, but she was pure magic.
Think about it, I was at this Multi-million dollar estate, starlit night, a brazilian fashion model in my arms, and to think, just 8 days ago I was knocked out unconscious in an Islamabad alleyway. being pissed on by guys who just robbed me of everything I had. Life is funny that way.
To be continued
So you never had to do you jobness in afghan?
Shut up; he's not done yet.
Fingers... tired... will.. post... more ... tomorrow...
GODDAMMIT.
Jealousy...rising...
Lucky.
I'm envympotent.
I just want to hear the rest.
I'm envympotent.
I just want to hear the rest.
What?? I cant wait until tomorrow to find out if Bash boned the model!!
This is great... you could make a movie out of Bash's travels. I love hearing from him and it's nice to see although a lil lumped up he's fine
-"V. What the fuck is all this ?" I asked
-"You like, huh ?" Smug bastard....
-"You like, huh ?" Smug bastard....
at this point, i thought you were visiting lando in cloud city.
i love these things man. hope your body's mending well.
What is Sonia's last name?
It's not Wild is it?
It's not Wild is it?
Sonia is not her real names... All names have been changed.
Oh and whether or not I "boned" the model or not is quite inconsequential to the story.
Oh and whether or not I "boned" the model or not is quite inconsequential to the story.
yeah, the big thing is if his pimp friend rolled him for all his money
This is awesome, bash.
this thread is useless without sex tapes
rabbiwanna said:
Shut up; he's not done yet.
Shut up; he's not done yet.
/knocks Rabb out, robs him, pisses on him
/afk Schweiz
Look, it is not a moral issue, I slept with hookers in the past. Back when I was running restaurants, I had no time for relationships, and I did appreciate a hooker leaving a room just as much as I appreciated everything she did before her departure. It was convenient, I played it safe, and I was able to afford it.
Sonia was perfect, I never felt worked over, I sensed genuine interest coming from her, her eyes seemed sincere. What a fucking idiot I was to fall for it !
She is a 5000$ a pop hooker ! Of course she seems genuine and interested, that is why she gets 5000 $ a pop! Still, I spent the past month eating disgusting contaminated food, sleeping with my boots on in 115 degrees night time eat so not to step on dangerous crap. I got knocked out, robbed. I've seen people dying, I've heard bombs blowing up just city blocks from where I was standing. I've lost countless nights of sleep trying to get my objectivity in check and trying to pay no mind to some of the dangerous absurdity I've witnessed. Yes, I was stressed out, and my last time with a woman was this desperate '"gotta-get-laid-before-i-die" fuck session with this rather homely hotel clerk on Santorini 2 months ago.
I could live to be a 115 and never experience something like this again, Also, it dawned on me that technically, you do not pay for sex services, but pay for a woman's time. So who knows, I might already be on Sonia's clock.
-"Listen, Sonia... I huh... huh... I don't think I.... " was as far as my pathetic attempt at aborting the whole thing went.
-"Shhh..." right in my ear "...it's taken care of" she whispered
Oddly enough, this made me feel like a bag of douche, I had somewhat resolved myself to pay for it, yet an arrangement between Sonia and Vaughn had been obviously bartered prior the evening. It felt tacky and gauche. In my eyes, Sonia was worth the 5000$. Hell, she could have charged 5 Gs for the last 2 hours and I would have probably paid it, Having a third party somehow arranging the whole thing like she was a party favor turned into a a giant buzzkill.
We danced some more as I desperately tried to get rid of those negative feelings, eventually, we made it to her room. We talked a lot, and I can honestly say that I genuinely enjoyed our conversation.
She tried to turn the topic towards sex, pushing it as to even undress before me, she laid in bed, holding my arm, head on my shoulders.
"What's wrong ?" She did not even look up
"It's .... it's not right. You are beautiful, quite possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever met... But, I don't think I would feel right" She looked up and smiled, and fell asleep shortly after. And so did I, with a naked brazilian model in my bed...I even kept my shorts on.
All together kids, follow the bouncing ball : "BASH YOU ARE A FUCKING PUSSY"
To be continued
Sonia was perfect, I never felt worked over, I sensed genuine interest coming from her, her eyes seemed sincere. What a fucking idiot I was to fall for it !
She is a 5000$ a pop hooker ! Of course she seems genuine and interested, that is why she gets 5000 $ a pop! Still, I spent the past month eating disgusting contaminated food, sleeping with my boots on in 115 degrees night time eat so not to step on dangerous crap. I got knocked out, robbed. I've seen people dying, I've heard bombs blowing up just city blocks from where I was standing. I've lost countless nights of sleep trying to get my objectivity in check and trying to pay no mind to some of the dangerous absurdity I've witnessed. Yes, I was stressed out, and my last time with a woman was this desperate '"gotta-get-laid-before-i-die" fuck session with this rather homely hotel clerk on Santorini 2 months ago.
I could live to be a 115 and never experience something like this again, Also, it dawned on me that technically, you do not pay for sex services, but pay for a woman's time. So who knows, I might already be on Sonia's clock.
-"Listen, Sonia... I huh... huh... I don't think I.... " was as far as my pathetic attempt at aborting the whole thing went.
-"Shhh..." right in my ear "...it's taken care of" she whispered
Oddly enough, this made me feel like a bag of douche, I had somewhat resolved myself to pay for it, yet an arrangement between Sonia and Vaughn had been obviously bartered prior the evening. It felt tacky and gauche. In my eyes, Sonia was worth the 5000$. Hell, she could have charged 5 Gs for the last 2 hours and I would have probably paid it, Having a third party somehow arranging the whole thing like she was a party favor turned into a a giant buzzkill.
We danced some more as I desperately tried to get rid of those negative feelings, eventually, we made it to her room. We talked a lot, and I can honestly say that I genuinely enjoyed our conversation.
She tried to turn the topic towards sex, pushing it as to even undress before me, she laid in bed, holding my arm, head on my shoulders.
"What's wrong ?" She did not even look up
"It's .... it's not right. You are beautiful, quite possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever met... But, I don't think I would feel right" She looked up and smiled, and fell asleep shortly after. And so did I, with a naked brazilian model in my bed...I even kept my shorts on.
All together kids, follow the bouncing ball : "BASH YOU ARE A FUCKING PUSSY"
To be continued
That's awesome.
Bash,
You are an awesome specimin of humanity.
You are an awesome specimin of humanity.
S'alright. You have a sense of right and wrong. Isn't about laws and such, it's about personal accountability. The best way to be is to base your morals on decisions you make, and not what others make for you.
We all pass up chances that others think are stupid, but we have our reasons.
Anyway, I'll get out of your way.
We all pass up chances that others think are stupid, but we have our reasons.
Anyway, I'll get out of your way.
Did she snore? Do beautiful people snore?
No, and her farts smelled of hot cinnamon buns... happy ?
Inexplicably so.
I gotta go for realsies this time... Tomorrow and thursday: More bordello adventures, a prop plane Vs. a herd of Wilderbeast chicken race, goat shit facials for profit, and circumcision Sudanese-style.
...Oh and pictures
bashturn said:
No, and her farts smelled of hot cinnamon buns... happy ?
No, and her farts smelled of hot cinnamon buns... happy ?
ah yes, everything is at i always imagined.
seriously tho, glad you didn't get your ass handed to you in the middle east.
and more power to you for having some personal ethics, and sticking to them.
i mean as. everything is *as* i always imagined. hot cimmamon buns indeed :)
All together kids, follow the bouncing ball : "BASH YOU ARE A FUCKING PUSSY"
Negative, Ghost Rider...you are a man to be admired for showing such restraint and humanity. A good man indeed.
ZOMGPICS!
<3 the bashturn
Not as much as Brazilian models though. But close.
<3 the bashturn
Not as much as Brazilian models though. But close.
Bash, YOU ARE FUCKING AWESOME.
What a bunch of fruits we are.
ok, just so I have things straight. You would have slept with her if your friend hadnt made the arrangements before hand?
Not trying to rag on you, just want to make sure I have the motivations straight.
you still rock.
Not trying to rag on you, just want to make sure I have the motivations straight.
All together kids, follow the bouncing ball : "BASH YOU ARE A FUCKING PUSSY"
you still rock.
pics of Tchad and Sudan... just so we are clear, cameras are strictly verbotten ant Vaughn's house... For all the obvious reasons
We show our true colors now...
Oye, we're supposed to be heartless bastards. Someone call Crooky, Jiffy, 10phi9, et al. to redeem us...
Oye, we're supposed to be heartless bastards. Someone call Crooky, Jiffy, 10phi9, et al. to redeem us...
after that she probably fell in love with him and they are living in Rio now.
You think bitches leave the pimpin game just like that?
no, but this screen play will either have a happy or tragic ending
Dear Penthouse Forum...
This is my new favorite thread.
Fazed needs more Bashturn. He is a phenomenal wild card.
Everyone missed the obvious question. What's Vaughn's number and how do we make an appointment?
Do you have the $25,000 cover charge?
On credit sure, but I married I'm more interested as far as some friends I know that would dig and more readily afford something like this.
It doesn't really matter they probably wouldn't do it anyway.
So yeah nevermind.
Great story once again so bashturn looking forward to the rest of your exploits.
So yeah nevermind.
Great story once again so bashturn looking forward to the rest of your exploits.
If I ever hit it big, I'm calling Bash for the address
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