A Gentleman’s Guide to Sexual Healing

A Gentleman’s Guide to Sexual Healing

Ready to be Published

A Gentleman’s Guide to Sexual Healing

This book is not about good or bad, right or wrong.

It’s an allowing gift for You, a Gentleman;

  A kind reminder that it’s not too late to live your life to the Fullest, with No regrets.

I decided to write a book about my sexual healing;

In order to offer you, my senior brother, 

 the inspiration to have your own 

Amazing Sexual Healing Experiences.

This book is about going for what you truly desire and deserve.

FORWARD

Let’s be honest. Let’s say you have $100 to spend and an hour and a half. Would you rather spend it on a date with a boring old woman you’re not sexually attracted to, or on a beautiful sexy 25-year-old babe who treats you like a 25-year-old stud, like you’re the love of her life?

If the choice is between no sex at all because of pride, or feelings of inadequacy, or a joyous romp in the hay with a most accepting and loving babe, making you feel like a real MAN, what would your choose be? If you want to choose the real Man option, read on.

This is a book about Sexual Healing. 

Sexual healing can happen anywhere in the world. You may or may not have to leave home to find it, and it’s certainly more convenient if you don’t. Maybe a local sex-oriented dating service might work? There are sexual surrogates in Western countries who can professionally help you heal. “Women of the night” are everywhere, but I certainly don’t recommend you drive the back streets looking for some screwed up whore to get you off.  That is not what this book is about.

In this book I talk about Thailand, because it’s a land of culturally sweet women who have in their nature an ease of loving and serving the man. This is more prevalent in Asia. 

I knew I had sexual issues but didn’t know how to solve them. 

I divorced at age 35 and by the time I was in my early sixties, I really missed sex. I somehow needed to stop my constant mind fucking about not fucking; to experience some real live sex. While living in the United States, I had no desire to pay some street hooker to get me off. Or spend $200 an hour on a sexual surrogate. 

I already had figured out that I’m a kind and loving man, and if I needed help staying hard there was Viagra. Just give me the chance. 

I paid for some local dating sites on Kauai, but still couldn’t find a woman to have sex with. Age appropriate or younger women showed no interest in me, especially sexually. Like so many men my age, I had to make excuses – I’m too old, not attractive, or aggressive enough, not rich enough – and so, I got trapped into believing that sex was not available to me, and it wasn’t that important. I had to convince myself that other things, like friendships, family, my work and all that, were really what life was all about; that sex was just a distraction, and only allowed with a wife or long courtship romantic partner. If I got bold and suggested, ‘why not have some sex fun with me?’ the woman would uncomfortably laugh, as if I were some creepy old man. 

I felt like such a hypocrite being so spiritual, so Zen Masterful, while always thinking about licking pussy and taking that long wild crazy ride to orgasmic bliss, with a real woman.

So, I made excuses for how I felt about my horniness. I lied to myself about the extent of my desire. I rationalized, I must have been a monk in another life, or a priest with an eternity vow of chastity, and now because my dic apparently wasn’t long enough, women weren’t attracted to me. I was too nice. I made a long list of excuses—which added up to—”just deal with what is, no attractive woman wants to sleep with you, old man.”

Couples, or men in a similar state of denial, told me I was being unrealistic thinking I could attract a lovely younger woman. “Sex is an intimate thing for age-appropriate adults,” they’d say. “Finding a lover takes time. You need to meet a good older woman, fall in love, and then you’ll have occasional sex.” Was that what I really wanted? I was never interested in romancing a same-aged woman with the lie of forever and ever, just for the chance to get occasionally laid. I finally concluded—it’s not happening here. Maybe I should move to where I have a better chance. I couldn’t accept the “it’s all over for me” programming. 

I didn’t realize that it was my “stuck sexual energy” which prevented me from being sexual.

Celibacy didn’t seem right or natural for me. That wasn’t what I wanted. Like so many men, I had to resort to masturbating for my sexual pleasure. Masturbation is better than nothing, we rationalize, but it’s nothing like the real thing. I was sexually frustrated for years. I need to go to a place where I could heal all my unnecessary, unnatural sexual frustration.

Chapter 1

Choose wisely

I need to be clear here. I will talk about fucking, because that’s the language I choose to use, but let’s not lose track of the fact that I am not really talking about fucking; I’m talking about “sexual healing.” 

I moved to Chiang Mai, Thailand in 2011. For the first two years there, I was still stuck in sexual confusion and denial. I would see these sixty-something men with twenty-something babes and my good/bad, right/wrong programmed mind labeled it as “not right.” I too, in truth, wanted to be with that beautiful gal . . . but my monkey mind said it wouldn’t be “right.” It took me two years there to realize that the root of all my problems with women had to do with puritan judgments.

By the end of 2012, I finally woke up to where I was. Thailand; a country famous for its beautiful women and sex. I had moved to the candy store. Unlike Kauai, where I lived for twenty years, here for a reasonable price, I could get anything I wanted, whenever I want it. One of my cautions in this book will be to be careful with what you choose. You can find rich chocolate in a candy story, or a fire ball, which will burn the inside of your mouth. 

Thailand is renown as sex tourism destination, where countless horny men from all around the world come to get their rocks off. I wasn’t interested in being another one of those penis-head men. A penis-headed men wants the woman to lay back and accept their mindless fucking. That’s why the Thai working gals refer to the sex act as boom-boom. Mr. penis-head can’t wait for the clothes to come off; to shower and get it on. There’s no foreplay or other than fucking considerations. He sticks it in and boom-boom-boom-boom until he cums. She rarely orgasms, gets paid and he leaves. No real connection. Just money from another stupid fucker. 

In any Thailand city, a man can buy sex whenever he feels like it. He knows where to go for pleasure, and what to do when he gets there. But there is more to this story. Much more. I consider using any woman as a mindless object to pound your dic into, a disgrace, nothing more than a paid-for rape. The last thing I wanted to be was that man.

Since I knew I was sexually wounded, and wanted healthy loving experiences, a gentleman’s experience, not a horny young buck fuck-fest, my sexual journey was about the opportunity to finally do something about what I had been neglecting for way too long. I wanted to be in graduate school, not kindergarten; to enter the sex tourism arena knowing that, for my healing, not any hooker would do. I set my intention on being guided to the right ones; those who would help me heal the wounds. Possibly me theirs.

I prayed, Dear god, guide me to the right hooker.

My desire regarding my desire may sound a little bit out there, but it was the only way I could proceed as a Gentleman. Every day honorable men make wise business decisions. We choose who we want to do business with, who we want to spend our time and energy with. Why should the business of sexual healing be any different?  Especially with a person you choose to be intimate with.

Because being a gentleman was foremost on my mind, I set my intention. I asked the universe to “magically” guide me to only extremely intuitive Thai women. As I will illustrate in this book, the gals who magically appeared were as good as any sexual surrogate you could find.  Every time I entered a room with one of these lovely women, my desire was not only to heal sexually, but to give the goddess I was with the love and respect she deserved.  Each one ended up being as beautiful and professional as the best executive call girls; at a fraction of the cost. It wasn’t long before I realized that Thailand was the right place for my sexual healing.

Chapter 5

The Prison of Dreams

 – Alcatraz –

While in the state of bliss, nothing makes sense.

Sexy girls in prison police uniforms stood outside, enticing us to come in. We looked at each other and grinned. “Why not?” We walked into Alcatraz, with its mock prison ambiance and beautiful women dancing on the middle-of-the-room stage. It was the very first go-go club we went into on the Walking Street in Pattaya. It was approaching midnight on the same day we woke up in Vietnam. We stared up at the stage at the dancing girls. “Oh my God!” We had entered the candy store of the most beautiful women ever. My friend was like a magnet and right away a tall young Thai super-model gal with blue eyes, was at our table, snuggling next to him. She invited two other gorgeous gals to join us, and we became high-rollers, not thinking of time or money or anything, only enjoying the Zen Moment to the fullest. And that we did. We’d been delivered in a Lexus and this was the next great magical happening. 

It didn’t take long before my two very lovely young ladies were sitting on my lap (at the same time–actually they were strategically sitting on my hands; my willing fingers free to wander–imagine) and we were laughing. I can’t remember if they spoke English, I can’t remember what was so funny. I was simply experiencing uninhibited joy, laughing like I hadn’t laughed in years. It was the most fun ever. When our gals went back up to dance, we high-five’d each other in our happiness. I didn’t know or care how long this enjoyment had been going on, there was no time, nothing what-so-ever–nothing mattered beyond the joy we were both experiencing. 

I eventually realized that I had consumed more than enough alcohol, and before I got totally hammered, I had better take one of the lovely women back to my hotel. That was the next best thing to do. For two hours the women had taken our money with ease and grace. We had shared our joy and benevolence (many shots of alcohol) with all the servers and the Mamasan and our gals. I had enjoyed the crowd around our table laughing with us, downing shots, in the here and now we forgot that we were paying for it. Oh well. It didn’t matter–money and time had no power over us. We were having too much fun to think about such silly things. 

I asked the Mamasan for our bar bill–she smiled. We had been good customers. I hardly blinked as I handed her the requested eleven thousand baht ($350US) like I was giving her Monopoly money. Were those two hours of joy worth $175 to me. Absolutely!

Can you imagine possibly having too much fun, where you lose your mind to the now moment? It’s a life experience we constantly deny ourselves.

My only problem, my non-sensical problem, after paying the bar bill, was that I couldn’t choose which one of the two lovelies to take back to my hotel (I later regretted not taking both)–but I was in a bit of an alcohol blur, not quite drunk, just fuzzy, and I chose her–what was her name? It was a mile away on the songtaew, (Thailand small pick-up truck bus) and the next thing I knew we were in my hotel room making love. I was making love! Something up to that moment I wasn’t sure I would ever do again in this lifetime. Honestly, I thought my sexual intercourse enjoyment prospects were unattainable up until that night.

Ahh–what pleasure I had been denying myself all these years. I was still laughing as we flowed in passion. I felt as if I had “come home” after being away for so so long.

I regretted the alcohol, since I rarely drink and in the then and there of finally being with a woman, a very beautiful woman indeed, I wanted to put my full attention into the act of love, with no regard to “who she was.” 

Actually that didn’t even cross my mind, since in the bliss-filled here and now I had no thought, no reason to think about anything other than her. This woman lying with me was a beautiful goddess and I was there to love her as she deserved to be loved. Unfortunately alcohol doesn’t serve the “man” in bed, but she didn’t seem to mind. My tongue moved in blind abandon.

There are many ways to please a woman. Could I possibly be a better lover now, than I have ever been in my whole life?

When she was leaving, I think a few hours later, she asked to be paid. I finally had to think, which was confusing, as if waking up to a now foreign common reality–being sober–thinking about money. I suppose I had assumed she was included in the $350. My wallet was empty. I called next door and ask for a loan. He, with my gal’s super-model, knock-out gorgeous, blue-eyed friend, kindly obliged. 

In the days to come we found out that the 2000 baht my first lover in years asked for ($60) was the lowest price for taking a bar-girl to your hotel. She could have taken advantage of my ignorance and gaga and said anything – 4000 baht. It was my first indication of how honest these women are. 

Now that the pump was finally really truly primed and working, I wanted to have more of this fun, but without the alcohol.