I Balled My Way Around the World
I started sailing on freighters when I was 18 years old. That was back in 1967, and I’ve been sailing ever since. It’s a good life for a guy who likes to be free, travel and have adventures.
Not the same kind of adventures the old timers had on those sailing vessels, though. Those days belong to ancient history. I’m talking about bedroom adventures. That was what I was looking for when I started out and I’m still looking for them, although I have had them all around the world.
I’ve been a pussy freak since I was 12. I guess you could describe me as a seaman by trade and a lover by inclination.
I’ve read these articles by different guys who said one certain ethnic type of woman was the best balling. I’ve tried them all and I can’t say that… they are ALL good! But don’t let anyone tell you that women are the same all over the world either. They are all different. Basically built the same of course, but still different in so many wonderful, interesting ways.
In Asia, Africa and Latin America, the only woman a sailor can get close to is a professional. Married women don’t dare play around and single girls live at home and are closely guarded.
But those whores are different than the walking cash register, automatic pussies we have here in the States. Those Asian, African and Latin American hookers enjoy what they do for a living and even the best of them ask so little in terms of US currency that it’s almost free.
And of course, here in the States, and in most European countries and Australia, even a seaman doesn’t have to pay for pussy.
In England, Scotland and Australia, there is a certain type of broad that automatically gets an itchy crotch whenever she spots a seafaring man. And don’t think we can’t be spotted. No matter how casually we dress, the broads spot us by our tanned faces and rolling stride.
In Liverpool, I balled a young broad AND her mom in a space of ten hours. Joyce was a long-legged brunette beauty who worked in a Liverpool office and hung around waterfront bars because she had a thing for seamen.
I took her out for a few drinks then we went to her parents’ house. It turned out that her father was retired British Navy and her brother was in the merchant marine.
We had a friendly visit, drank a lot of beer, then casually as anything, Joyce and I went to bed. Her parents didn’t seem to mind at all. They seemed to take it all for granted.
I balled Joyce most of the night. Then she had to go to sleep so she could get up in time for work. In the morning, she left me in bed and went to work. That was when her mom came in and asked me what I’d like for breakfast.
It seemed that the old man had also gone to work and the mother and I were alone in the house. She was a pretty, dark-eyed, prematurely gray woman in her mid-forties, a bit on the hefty side, but still sexy. When I told her what I wanted for breakfast she blushed, then giggled, but I got what I wanted. I have always enjoyed eating pussy for breakfast.
I was out in the Pacific islands before they got too fucked up. They were fucked up by the GIs to a certain extent but the tourists hadn’t started going there yet. These Polynesian broads were probably the best, if there is such a thing as best. I always liked their directness. To them, sex was no big deep, dark secret. It was something you did for fun, like dancing or swimming.
The Arab whores in Beruit and Dar Es Salaam are something else. They’ve been trained since childhood in the arts of pleasing a man. The only trouble is you have to make sure you never fuck around when you don’t have a couple of pals along. You could end up a naked corpse with a slit throat.
The Filipino babes are out of sight too. They have the tightest cunts in the world, even the hookers. But in Manila, you have to be careful and not get fooled by a benabae, a drag queen. In the Philippines it isn’t easy to tell the difference.
But what the hell, who cares?
The merchant marine is a great career for a pussy freak. Naturally you go weeks without any, but you can sure make up for it whenever you go ashore!
–end–
by Gary Plotkin
