Cummy on Tummy

The only recreation for 45 engineers employed in rebuilding Cambodia are the numerous brothels. Their interpreter takes them to one that has a special rule.

Part One

My name is Eddie Nelson. In 1994, I was a recently graduated engineering student looking for work in my chosen field. When I was handed my diploma, the last place I figured I’d be getting my first big job experience would be halfway around the world in Cambodia. But that’s what happened. I had a general idea, but honestly, I had to open an atlas to find out exactly where this country was located.

When I arrived there, the southeast Asian country was in disarray but slowly on the road to recovery. It was trying to rebound from decades of brutal communist dictatorships, each one worse than the previous one. The era of the Khmer Rouge was especially horrific. All the country’s intellectuals were considered potential enemies of the state. Accordingly, they were systematically murdered or chased into exile in foreign lands. It’s difficult to sustain any type of productive society when its smartest people have been executed or have sensibly fled the country. With a new, enlightened government now in power in Cambodia, I was one of the people brought in to fill the “brain power” shortages.

Here is how I got there: A month or so after Graduation Day, I was notified by one of my university professors that the government of Cambodia, with its monarchy restored (at least on paper), was desperately looking for young, energetic engineers to help supervise "the rebuilding of the nation." Representatives from that country's government would be holding an information seminar at one of the lecture halls. I was invited to attend. I figured, "Why not?
"
About 60 recent graduates from the school’s engineering program were curious enough to show up and listen to an offer. Within an hour, three-quarters of us had signed up for a two-year commitment to work in Cambodia. The deal was enticing: We each would have a guaranteed contract that paid us well. Our travel costs to and from Cambodia would be covered, as would our spartan housing and two meals per day. We would be bused every day to and from various construction sites to oversee the building of many ongoing infrastructure projects.
We all arrived on the same day and were promptly transported to our living quarters on the outskirts of a midsized town. They were the equivalent of military barracks. Privacy was non-existent, but few of us cared. The next day we began our work. I and six others were sent to observe the building of new government offices and housing units a few miles away. With the assistance of a young translator who answered to the name of C.J., we immediately found some very basic problems and set out to correct them. That impressed the government liaison who was officially in charge of the project but knew absolutely nothing about how buildings ought to be erected.

Days tended to be long, but they were enjoyable as we all bonded and got along well. The locals looked upon us with reverence because of our education. They were extremely friendly. They often asked questions that we, via the translation skills of C.J., were happy to answer.

Our contracts called for us to get both Saturdays and Sundays off. We all appreciated the respite, of course, but there was very little to do to pass the time. Someone erected a badminton net. There were a couple of chess sets and there were a few English-language periodicals to read, but we were mostly on our own. Some of us who had specific interests in other things gave lectures to the others. For example, one colleague named Stephen was well versed in archaeology, so he happily shared his knowledge with us. Someone else explained the rules of cricket. I knew quite a bit about the two world wars, so I was the "guest speaker" on various aspects of that topic. Since there was literally nothing else to do to pass the time, I had a very captive audience.

After about two weeks of trying to entertain ourselves, despite our best efforts, we predictably became bored. I took it upon myself to ask C.J., who was about 30 years old, for suggestions to alleviate our collective tedium. He mentioned there were a few nearby historic sites we could make arrangements to visit and even some nightclubs to listen to western music. Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "There are always the brothels.
"
That remark caught my attention. As a healthy, 24-year-old male, I enjoyed female companionship. Since I had arrived in Cambodia, I'd had none. Every single one of my work colleagues was male, too. All the workers who prepared our meals were males. I was eager to learn about the houses of ill fame.
"Prostitution is flourishing in Cambodia. For many women who have little or no education, it is their only realistic form of employment,” C.J. stated. “If you go to the center of town, there are brothels located on just about every street. Some are classier than others."

I immediately summoned my buddies so C.J. could repeat that information to them. I wasn't the only one who sought female companionship. Without exception, they were all interested in visiting one of the houses of ill-fame. That did not surprise me in the least. “We all need to drain our pipes,” bluntly stated a colleague named William, who had interesting ways of phrasing things.

C.J. told us that the going rate varied from seven to ten American dollars for an hour’s dalliance with a local hooker. (That was a pittance to us, but a considerable sum for the Cambodians.) The girls came in all shapes and sizes. Some small whorehouses had just two or three girls working there. Others had a roster of 50 employees for horny customers to choose from.

When someone asked C.J. which brothel he would recommend, he was not shy about giving his opinion. Obviously speaking from experience, he praised a specific place of business. "My personal favorite is..." and he said the name in the Khmer language. Then he added, “Many westerners call it Cummy on Tummy." We all thought that was hilarious and broke into spontaneous laughter.

C.J. explained the brothel's nickname, while cute, had real significance. "Condoms and other forms of birth control are virtually unknown here; they are quite rare. Therefore, none of the customers wear rubbers, and none of the girls take the pill. Of course, that naturally results in a great many pregnancies. Brothel owners hate having to deal with that sticky issue. The last thing they want is their girls to be unable to work because they are noticeably pregnant. Their solution, at this brothel anyway, is to encourage the men to pull out before ejaculating in a hooker's vagina. If the customer cooperates, he gets a special bonus."

Of course, we all asked, “What’s the bonus?”

“It’s a system of earned credits,” C.J. explained in great detail. “The price for a romp with a whore there is presently $10. You pay your $10 to the manager who gives you two tokens. When you meet your hooker, you pay her the two tokens. If you follow the rules—pull out and cum on her stomach—you get one of the tokens returned to you. The next time you visit and buy your two tokens, again you’ll get one returned if you do “cummy on tummy” as the girls there like to say. Now you have two tokens without paying for them—and you can redeem them for an hour’s fun the third time you visit. in effect, you get three sexual romps for the price of two—and you still get a token back if you follow the rules the third time. Theoretically, a customer should always have at least one token when he leaves if he abides by the house rules. C.J. produced a token from his own shirt pocket as a visual aid. “See?” he said with a grin.

“I think we need to charter a bus for 45 visitors to Cummy on Tummy today!” I declared. C.J. quickly made the arrangements. He also gave the brothel ample advance warning that a busload of sex-starved engineers in their twenties would be on its way.

Part Two

The roads in Cambodia are not exactly smooth, so every bus trip is a bit of a wild ride. Not one of us complained about the potholes as we headed towards Cummy on Tummy. We were all too excited about getting laid to care about being jostled in the bus. In order to prevent a riot, C.J. wisely said, “This place, at most, has 20 girls working at one time and maybe 15 rooms available. Therefore, you horny young fellows have to do your screwing in waves. If my estimate is right, you’ll need to divide yourselves into three waves. Let’s decide by lot who is in which one.”

C.J. had brought a deck of playing cards. He pulled out three aces and put them into a black velvet bag. “Okay, come up in groups of three. Each of you draw a card from the bag. If you draw the ace of diamonds, you are in the first wave. The ace of hearts puts you in the second wave. The ace of spades puts you into the third wave. Remember which wave you are in—and no cheating!” I was lucky enough to draw the ace of diamonds—so I would be among the first 15 engineers to sample the carnal delights at Cummy on Tummy. Yay!

We disembarked from the bus and almost sprinted inside the building. I happily paid my $10 and received two bronze-colored tokens from the brothel’s manager. Moreover, since I was the guy who was the catalyst for this group outing, the other 14 members of the first wave graciously said I could have the first choice of the 20 girls who were seated on metal folding chairs in an elevated room. There was obviously no uniform or dress code for the employees. Some girls were wearing one-piece bathing suits or bikinis, some had on evening dresses, and some were just clad in shorts and t-shirts. They were all wearing ID numbers. Girl #6 caught my fancy. She was young, diminutive, cute and busty. I got an erection just looking at her from a distance. I flashed six fingers at the manager. Within seconds, Girl #6, wearing sandals, a yellow t-shirt and light pink shorts, had taken a hold of my hand and was leading me down a corridor to a small room to begin our hour of fucking. I don’t know for certain, but I must have had a huge smile on my face.

Before that day in 1994, I had never been to a whorehouse in my life. I had only read about them in novels and seen them depicted in movies. To my recollection, they were all lavishly decorated. Therefore, I was a little bit disappointed in the bare-bones room I was entering. It was just big enough to accommodate a mattress which was on the floor and covered with a single, clean bedsheet. There were a couple of hooks on the wall for me to hang up my clothing. Girl #6 knew the routine well. She got right down to business and disrobed. I watched her intently. In her birthday suit, she was even prettier than I imagined she’d be. I disrobed in seconds and joined her on the mattress which was a little bit narrow.

I quickly embraced her and fondled her wonderful boobs. I positioned her on top of me so I could relax and suck on her inviting tits. She began to play with my penis and gave it a series of sensual strokes. This was absolutely unnecessary; I was already as hard as the Hope Diamond. Still, her touch felt wonderful. Without being instructed to do so, she slid sexily down my body and placed my hard penis in her mouth. This petite girl was a real pro!

I couldn’t wait to poke her pussy with my penis. She had a beautiful vagina. It was shaved and inviting. Although Girl #6 spoke English quite poorly, I managed to communicate with her well enough. She clearly understood when I said, “Stop the blowjob. I want to fuck you now!” She remained on top of me. She grabbed my stiff rod, slid it inside her hold and started to ride me with enthusiasm. I was getting my $10 worth of pleasure for sure!

In my limited sexual history, I had always “finished” in the missionary position—which was fine by me. Accordingly, I rolled Girl #6 onto her back and fucked her with gusto! I filled the small room with noisy grunts. My bedmate responded with soft cries of “Ah!” with each long, penetrating stroke I gave her.
It was too pleasurable to last. I could feel the tingling sensation in my groin begin to build. An ejaculation was near—probably a strong one. Girl #6 was experienced, so she anticipated it, too.

“Cummy on tummy!” she reminded me, although it was completely unnecessary. I had never ejaculated in a girl’s pussy in my 24 years on the planet. (I personally liked viewing the residue of my handiwork, so I always chose to pull out and deposit my semen somewhere on my bedmate’s body. Usually, the target area was just around her navel. On one occasion in my high school days, I came so quickly that I lost control of my aim. Much of my goo smacked the hapless girl on her chin and cheeks. I felt badly about it and said I was sorry. She laughed at me, not understanding why I was apologizing. She apparently enjoyed the sensation of males ejaculating on her face.)

Girl #6 readied herself. I gave three quick thrusts into her pussy and then pulled out, placing my hard penis on top of her pussy rather than inside it. About a dozen seconds later, I let lose. It was a long, powerful blast that deposited thick white semen all the way up her torso and into the small of her neck. What a sensational feeling!

Despite my warm load going further north than I anticipated, I must have abided by the house rules. “Good man,” Girl #6 informed me. “That’s a cummy on tummy for sure. You get a token returned!” She cleaned herself up with a cloth. I wasn’t certain if my cum shot had concluded my session with Girl #6. Within a moment or two, however, she made it quite clear that I was going to get the full 60 minutes of fun and frolics with her. “Lots more time to fuck me,” she merrily said. “Remember: Always do cummy on tummy or you will lose your token.”

I nodded to show her I fully understood. For the next 40 minutes I screwed Girl #6 every which way I could think of. I really enjoyed penetrating her doggie-style as it allowed my penis to go as deep as it could inside her warm, hairy cunt. Once again, a familiar feeling rose in my genitals. I pulled out and shot a load of sperm onto Girl #6’s back. In her charming broken English, she told me, “That’s good. It’s the same as cummy on tummy, just on different side of me. You still get to keep one token for future.”

When my hour expired, I concluded it with a few romantic-style kisses because Girl #6 had been very affectionate…and great fun to screw for the full 60 minutes! Now I had two hours to kill in the waiting room while the second and third waves had their fun
.
I noticed that my colleagues were not blind. Girl #6 was chosen early as a bedmate by someone in each wave. While the guys from the second wave were busy, all 15 of us from the first wave discussed our fun with the eager members of the third wave. All 15 of us in the first wave had earned our bonus tokens for kindly obeying the brothel’s most important rule.

In the end, 43 of 45 of us got onto the bus with a token in our pockets. The two engineers who failed to pull out in time were gently razzed for having no self-control with their equipment. We quickly referred to them as “the two future daddies.”

C.J. was conspicuously the last person to board the bus. He had used the opportunity to be part of the third wave, too. He showed us the he now possessed two bronze tokens. He was quite pleased by that achievement.

“Hey, you’ve got two tokens! That’s great! That will get you a romp with a hooker on the house. When are you going to redeem your free roll in the hay, C.J.?” someone seated in the rear of the bus asked him.

C.J. quickly replied, “I suppose it will be a week from today, next Saturday, when we all come here again. I took the liberty of booking another bus for us and informing the management we’d all be returning for more carnal fun in seven days! What do you say? Does that sound like a good plan, fellows?”

We all let out a collective cheer. A few engineers patted C.J. on the back. It was filled with happiness and overwhelming satisfaction. Not surprisingly, Cummy on Tummy would become our favorite recreation spot as long as we were working in Cambodia.