Singapore Party Girls: Part I

“Nope… No… Yuck… Never…” Shirly said, aloud while going through her super-likes on Tinder. She was looking for a Westerner who was tall, rich, and good looking. Someone she could add to her stable of interesting men who continuously supply her with wonderfully entertaining events then pick up the bill.

Shirly’s owned her private condo in Tanjong Katong which was no small deal for the twenty-six year old. Her parents had given her the nearly two-million dollars for the sprawling three bedroom on the eleventh floor where she lived with her lifelong friend, Shen, and their housekeeper who ensured the ladies never washed a single garment, prepared a meal, or ever needed to pick up around the house.

In a large glass display cabinet that was intended to display dishes and soup tureens in the living room contained Shirley’s life work. Dozens of sashes and a handful of tiaras. She had twice been runner up for the Miss Singapore contest and had actually won Miss Malaysia. Those two magical events had taken place when she was eighteen and nineteen. Despite wanting to continue competing, Shirly had been retired from pageants for nearly three years. Her last pageant, just after her twenty-third birthday had been a fiasco where she didn’t make it past the first round. Now she was a professional party girl who relaxed her way through life on her parent’s allowance and the purse strings of well-to-do men.

Shirley was one of those fortunate girls whose very wealthy father had married a stunning beauty at the tail end of a celebrated career modelling, where she took after her mother in every possible way. Shirley had impossibly lean body with remarkably well defined curves. Her face was enchanting and perfectly symmetrical down to her large eyes and their perfectly split eyelids and impossibly aesthetic nose. She had the kind looks that highly skilled plastic surgeons attempted to replicate on their patients, and, if they were proficient at their craft, imitated with ninety-nine percent accuracy the look Shirley naturally possessed.

“This one looks good!” Shirley commented, showing the phone to Shen.

“How tall?”

“One-hundred-eighty-six centimetre,” Shirley replied.

“Quite good. Which condo building?”


“Anyone with a condo at Wallich or Orchard Park?”


The man she was referring to was a banker from New York who had recently arrived to work at the financial center. He was early to mid-thirties and checked most of the boxes Shirley wanted checked. Up until recently, Shirley had been sleeping with Khet, a very successful Singaporean construction magnate who would treat Shirley and her friends to bottle service at Pangaea and impromptu trips. The previous week he had whisked Shirley away on his private jet to float around the Phi Phi islands for a few days on his spectacular yacht.

Shirley had been spending time on that yacht since she was nineteen and it always was a lovely trip where she would take fabulous pictures in her bikini with the other gorgeous girls invited that would garner tens of thousands of likes and comments on her various social media pages. The food was amazing and the party was always wonderful. It was living like a billionaire for a few days. Of course there was the cost of going which involved piling into the hot tub on the deck of the boat, naked of course, and along with the other girls, and making yourself available to Khet and sometimes one or two of his close friends or business partners.

“Only let Khet fuck you,” A twenty-two year old Shirley had instructed a gorgeous wide-eyed teenager who was being actively pursued and encouraged to go to a guest room with one of Khet’s business associates.

“I don’t want to be disinvited!” the girl had cried, referring to how some girls were never invited back and forced to spend time with men who didn’t own yachts or let them spray expensive champagne wastefully into the air.

“Go and try to sit on Khet’s lap, that guy will never try to take you away from him,” Shirley suggested, only to hear the girl panting below deck a few minutes later as the middle-aged man from Beijing enjoyed an energetic romp inside of her teenaged pussy.

The man emerged a few minutes later to smoke a disgustingly strong ChungHwa cigarette on deck. Shirley went down to check on the girl and saw her showering away.

“Are you ok?” she asked, opening the door and peering into the tiny stall where the perky girl was busy lathering soap into her vagina.

“Oh, I’m wonderful!” the girl bubbled and then picked up a strange object off the soap tray and showed it to Shirley. It was a men’s watch, a gold Datejust Rolex to be precise. He had apparently traded it and the happy girl had accepted his offer and was now washing his sperm out of her vagina. Shirley knew the watch didn’t matter to the man. He was PRC rich and the fifty-thousand dollar watch wasn’t something he’d miss; he probably had several.

Shirley was one of Khet’s favorites as she had that little extra bit of novelty having been a pageant contestant of some note.

“This one was Miss Singapore!” Khet would brag, yanking the naked girl out of his hot tub to sit on his lap in front of his intoxicated guests playing liars dice.

Shirley would bring a half dozen different bikini’s, sometimes more, and change into them periodically throughout the day. She brought a camera with a Sigma 4D lens and meticulously trained the other girls concerning its proper use in order to ensure the pictures came out superb. Shirly would never post pictures onto Instagram that didn’t look like they were done by a professional photographer. She would bring different hair extensions, different sunglasses, even hold different drinks without consuming the previous. Anything to make it seem like she had been on the boat for a month, and not a mere two days.

“Let’s go in the tub!” Khet would boom and all of the girls would gather, wearing their bikinis and being very careful not to get their hair or face wet to ruin their meticulously prepared facades. Khet would pull two girls to either side of him and then, in a very mischievous manner, pull the string of their bikini tops. Shirley learned very early to giggle as if the man had done something very funny and then allow him to paw at her without getting her hair wet. Eventually, Khet would stand up in the tub, his stubby erection highly visible in his shorts.

“Shirley, Tao, I want to rest below deck, come for a rest with me,” he would offer then immediately begin headed in the direction of his cabin.

Shirley would calmly walk down the stairs, trailing behind him with the stunning Tao right alongside of her. Khet would drop his wet bathing suit onto the bathroom floor and pee audibly enough for the two girls to hear as they dried themselves on fresh towels left on the bed.

Tao and Shirley both dropped to their knees as their host approached with his erection leading the way. One girl would attempt to hold his balls in her mouth while the other sucked on his diamond hard little prick. Then they would switch; tongues always out, big smiles and bright eyes for the billionare who owned the boat.

“Get on the bed, Tao,” Khet commanded, and the young girl hopped off the floor and laid on her back with her legs opened wide, her tiny pussy a cleared landing strip.

“Now you get on her,” Khet instructed Shirley who mounted the teen, arched her back and extended her ass outwards while straddling.

Khet had the two pussies as his disposal, inches apart, both ready. He would first thrust into Shirley doggy-style then withdraw and enter Tao missionary without either of the girl’s needed to move.

“ERR! ERR! MMNNN!” Khet grunted while hammering each nail.

Shirley was forced to stare directly into Tao’s face the entire time. The girl’s would look at each other, their expressions only changing if they were the one being fucked at that particular moment. Upon penetration their eyes would go unfocused from the distraction and they would break the bored eye contact they shared for the few precious seconds neither of them were being thrust into. When they were not being fucked, both of them had the look of someone waiting for the MRT train on the platform, or idling inside of a crowded elevator; emotionless, dispassionate, bored. When it was their turn to be fucked, the girl’s would ingratiate their host by offering pleasureful moans and be careful to cease immediately upon Khet’s withdrawal. This gave the impression that the penis being thrust into them was a wonderful source of pleasure and without it, the girls would experience a drab wait until they were thrilled by its return. The truth was, the entire event was drab for everyone involved, except for Khet, of course.

Shirley always saw this as a game of sexual Russian Roulette, or a perverted duck-duck-goose; both girls would wonder if Khet would be ejaculating inside the vagina he currently occupied, or if he would opt to pull out and finish in the other girl’s.

“AH! AH! AH!” Khet’s voice peaked in urgency; it would be Shirley who received the gift of needing to sit on the toilet and let the billionaire on Viagra’s sperm slowly drip out.

“ARRRRR!” Khet groaned and Shirley felt instantly wetter from the spurting worm.

Then, in an abrupt change, Khet pulled out, shocking young Tao, who, for the briefest of seconds whimpered when she felt her vagina penetrated by the still ejaculating cock. She had thought it was a lucky occurrence that she would not need to clean herself out, but that would not be the case.

Smack! Smack!

Khet spanked Shirley’s ass, poised up in the air, with her tiny, smooth vagina leaking sperm onto Tao’s stomach below, as he pulled out of Tao’s pussy, causing a second trickle of sperm to drip from her pussy onto the floor. Khet stumbled back into the bathroom while the girls both held their vagina’s, attempting to minimize the leakage onto the linens. Walking out of the room, Khet mumbled something about wonderful to the girls and was already smoking before he had finished climbing the stairs. As soon as he was out of the doorway, both girls raced to the bathroom.

“Please!” Tao begged as Shirley sat on the toilet while sperm collected in Tao’s hand.

“Climb the sink!” Shirley offered.

“Cannot! Too high!” Tao whined.

Tao was far too embarrassed to start running into other parts of the boat, to certainly be seen by the staff and other guests, clutching her sperm filled vagina, looking for an unoccupied bathroom. Taking pity on her, Shirley dismounted and raised the toilet seat so both girls could hover over the larger bowl, dripping semen.

Upon disembarking, the girls would be forced into a ritual that Shirley hated the most. It was the gift ceremony and it was horrible. There would usually be two to four girls who had spent the weekend on the boat and, during that time, Khet would have fucked each and every one of them at least once, and would have inseminated them as well. It was also standard that other guests would have done the same. Before getting off at the marina and being ushered into transport to take them to private air strip and a ride on Khet’s plane back to Changi, the girls got a bag and a pill. The bag would contain a luxury item, usually an expensive purse, such as a Hermes or Saint Laurent. The cost of the bags would be in the tens of thousands. In addition, within the bags would also be a small red envelope with around two or three thousand Singaporean dollars for any incidental expenses. Upon receiving the bag, the girls would be made to swallow a Levonorgestrel pill; more commonly known as ‘Plan B’. Not only would the girls be made to swallow, a member of the staff would carefully watch them, then look into their mouths. Shirley learned early on that she should pee before being given the pill because afterwards, the girls were not allowed to leave site of the staff, fearing they were going to force themselves to vomit the pill. This was a brutal but necessary step taken by Khet as, even though these girls were Instagram influencers, models, and, in Shirley’s case, a former Miss Singapore runner up, having a billionaire’s child would be a monstrous payday.

Now that Shirley was twenty-six, the invitations to Khet’s little trips were fewer and fewer. On the most recent trip, the one she just returned from, Shirley noticed that there were many more girls that the other times; eight in total.

“Ba-guh! Ba-guh!” one of the Beijing business men on the yacht said over and over, counting the girls and making reference to how eight is lucky.

On this trip, she noticed that she was the only girl over the age of twenty.

“You need to help with the girls, Shirley,” a member of Khet’s staff had informed her.

“What? Why?”

“You need to tell them how to act. You are Auntie now,” he explained.

The twenty-six year old girl almost burst out in tears being called an Auntie. Still, she sang for her supper and sternly spoke to each one of the teenaged Instagram models and told them what was expected of them and how they were certain to be given very expensive gifts that could easily total over one-hundred thousand dollars. She also told them about the pills.

“I think I want to go home!” One of the girls begged Shirley.

“What did you think when you got on the private plane? You would just have fun on a yacht? Eat and drink and take your Instagram pictures?”

The teenager bobbed her head with tears in her eyes.

“Then you are a stupid girl to get on the plane. Nothing is free!”

“I can tell my followers he is making me do this! I can make a hashtag!” she demanded.

“You can do whatever you want, but you may find yourself kicked off Instagram. You may find your family kicked out of their HTB condo. And you may find yourself kicked out of University and never hired by any job and you will have to work in a hawker centre with the Malays. He is a billionaire. He’s not afraid of you.”

The sullen girl cried for a few minutes longer, but, before the end of the day was dancing topless on the deck of the boat having emerged from below with beautiful, massive diamond studded earrings in her ears and a healthy dose of Khet’s sperm swimming in her teenaged womb. At the end of the weekend she had posted dozens of photos of her meditating on the deck of the yacht with the massive rock formations, jutting out of the idyllic blue water in her background #BestLife.

The end of that trip left Shirley sullenly sitting on her couch with a red envelope with five-thousand Sing dollars and no Hilde Palladino purse, like the other girls. At least her guts were not cramping horribly from ingesting a morning after pill, a pain she would have gladly accepted in exchange for the bag.

Shirley was now in need of a confidence booster, which is why she was on tinder looking for a westerner with a wallet as engorged as his manhood who wouldn’t treat her like an Auntie.

To be continued…

Author’s note: This is a chapter in an ongoing storyline chronicling Shirley the SPG’s adventures. If you enjoyed this chapter, I encourage you to go into the blog section and discover her other adventures. Hope you enjoyed reading!


If you enjoyed this story, you would definitely enjoy my most successful book, How Much is Candy. You can read it for free on Kindle Unlimited. I’ve also published the sequel, How Much is Candy 2.

How much is Candy 2:

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