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Perth | Sukhothai Adelaide Terrace

Channelle said:
It's said many times about not messaging and asking about FS, or FS girls, etc.

They have no idea who they are responding to ... council or police or immigration or neighbours or family or friends or partners or whoever ... so their best response has to be "nope, nothing going on here" and such conversations have to be at the premises.
Click to expand...
Yep, definitely being careful - suspect they may have already had a visit from authority figures if they are this careful
 
H224 said:
What the crime or what could happeb if caught by police?
Click to expand...
Not sure about the police, but councils can close them on planning approval violation. Approved as a massage parlor but operating a brothel.

Nice job perk being council staff member who has to collect the evidence.
 
Cs009 said:
Not sure about the police, but councils can close them on planning approval violation. Approved as a massage parlor but operating a brothel.

Nice job perk being council staff member who has to collect the evidence.
Click to expand...
The council have been known to rummage through the bins once they’ve been put out looking for used condoms, that’s a perk all for you my friend.
 
It’s late Friday evening. The power of hobo grade box wine is coursing through my veins, a sure fire precursor to poor decisions made by the microscopic monster downstairs. I’ve seen the Sukhothai thread. Could it be true? A shop with Thai girls not battling menopause and Metamucil? I’m intrigued. I fire off a 10 p.m. text to the South Perth number, which of course sits unread until morning.

My phone lights up:

“What time plz?”

Despite the wine flu dragging me down, I’m up early and my balls are clamouring for morning glory.

“10:30 please,” I reply, ignoring a wave of Shirazified nausea.

“Name plz?”

“Hagrid,” I type, my faithful punting moniker.

“What kind of servicing are you looking for?” the unknown texter queries.

“Bukkake… massage with blowjob plz,” I hit send before I’d even given it much thought. Curse my horniness. What if they were just asking if I wanted Oil or Thai massage and here I am throwing out council-curse-words like bloody “blowjob.”

Jesus Christ. What have I done? Have they blocked me? Am I being added to some kind of watchlist? Massage with blowjob? Really? IDIOT!

“Today we have sensual massage with HJ.”

Phew

Not exactly what I was aiming for but better than erection wilting words like “Shiatsu,” “trigger point,” or “male masseur.”

“No problem. See you soon.” I confirm.

I take the drive to South Perth and it’s more Stormy than a Trump NDA. Thankfully, that means plenty of parking on Harper Terrace, where the shop’s located. Only 1 hour spots though, but enough longer-term options if you’re the type of punter who enjoys premature ejaculations. The shop’s closer to the Mill Point Road end, on your left if you’re heading toward the water. Good news, Harper Terrace is pretty quiet from a foot traffic or stickybeak perspective. Low risk of running into a wife, boss, or pastor while on the sacred path to a thaigasm.

The shopfront is therapeutic looking. No garish neon screaming happy endings (or sad ones depending on the age of the masseuse).

I enter and see a rack of shoes in the corner, so I take mine off and pray to God my socks don’t smell like an Amber Heard sleepover.

The place is small but nice. A reception desk at the front. Behind it, a young and cute Thai lady. I’d put her in the 20 to 30 range, but as with all Asian girls, it’s tough to gauge. She could be 18 or 48. To my jaded / failing eyes? She looked young and attractive.

I told her I was Hagrid and had a booking. She smiled, took my payment for an hour, 85 bucks from memory, card accepted, and led me to a room. She told me to get unchanged and said my masseuse would be with me soon. She added, ever so subtly, “You can discuss any areas you’d like massaged with your masseuse.” Smooth.

I was hoping she’d be my masseuse, but I sensed otherwise. I thanked her in Thai. She was surprised I could speak it, and we chatted for a bit, switching between English and Thai whenever one of us hit a translation wall. I sensed she wasn’t part of the Extras team, but who knows. I’ll ask to see her next time.

I got unchanged. The room was small with a standard massage table. Only complaint? The little box for storing my Salvation Army outfit was a bit cramped.

I stuck my face in the hole, hopefully not the last of the session, and soon, a knock on the door.

What’s your go to reply?

“Come in?” “No thanks!” “Who’s there?”

I went with “Ready.”

I heard someone enter. Now, do you crane your neck to see what you’ve drawn, or do you stay buried and pray it’s not a horror show, or worse, a bloke? I stayed buried.

I asked how she was, we chatted, and I complimented her English.

“Did you study here or in Thailand?”

She laughed.

“Why would I study in Thailand? I’m from Brazil.”

Interesting.

Then she got down to business

“Are you looking for extra today?

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“I can do handjob for 50, topless for 100, and nude using my body for 200.”

Standard offerings. But 200 for a handjob felt rich. I’m somewhat frugal when it comes to my orgasms, but I really needed to get a load off, so I went with the topless option.

She asked for the money up front. Mood killer, but fair. First time customer, holes in socks, she probably thought I was destitute. I awkwardly clambered off the bed, pitiful manhood on full display (it was cold OK!), and rifled through my jeans.

On the plus side, I got a good look at her. Decently attractive, big tits, not too old, 20s to 30s I’d guess. Not the tiny Thai spinner I usually crave, a little thicc, classic Brazilian build, but definitely not a sperm-curdler.

I handed over the 100. She gave a genuinely solid massage, digging in with full Muay Thai elbows on the knots. Didn’t half ass it, asked about pressure, and made sure I was comfortable. One really nice touch, pun not intended, was when she reached up and moved my arms from above my head to by my sides. Seconds later, I felt her naked breasts in my hands. She let me knead away while she kept massaging. Built up the anticipation beautifully.

After about 40 minutes, she asked me to flip. She wiped off the oil with a hot towel, then oiled up Hagrid Junior. She was already topless and took my hand, encouraging me to grope her. She ran a hand over my pubic region.

“You wax?” she asked.

“Guess you’re not the only Brazilian,” I winked.

She gave me a confused look. Dammit.

Didn’t take long before she hit the mongerload and I was sated. She cleaned me up and said she hoped to see me again.

After dressing, I made my way back to reception. The cute Thai girl was still there.

“How was massage?” she asked, with a smirk.

I laughed and said good.

I asked her name and what it meant in Thai

“Same fabric,” she said.

“Beautiful fabric, you mean,” I winked

Her eyes rolled harder than Snake Eyes as she wished me a good day. Dammit.

Will I be back? Yeah, I will. The massage was solid. I’m not an FS guy in shops, so your mileage may vary. I’m guessing South Perth keeps it more basic, with extras on the down low, since some clientele are women and they probably don’t want them hearing me puffing away while the girl whispers, “Let me know when it’s in.”

Happy hunting.
 
Drex said:
It’s late Friday evening. The power of hobo grade box wine is coursing through my veins, a sure fire precursor to poor decisions made by the microscopic monster downstairs. I’ve seen the Sukhothai thread. Could it be true? A shop with Thai girls not battling menopause and Metamucil? I’m intrigued. I fire off a 10 p.m. text to the South Perth number, which of course sits unread until morning.

My phone lights up:

“What time plz?”

Despite the wine flu dragging me down, I’m up early and my balls are clamouring for morning glory.

“10:30 please,” I reply, ignoring a wave of Shirazified nausea.

“Name plz?”

“Hagrid,” I type, my faithful punting moniker.

“What kind of servicing are you looking for?” the unknown texter queries.

“Bukkake… massage with blowjob plz,” I hit send before I’d even given it much thought. Curse my horniness. What if they were just asking if I wanted Oil or Thai massage and here I am throwing out council-curse-words like bloody “blowjob.”

Jesus Christ. What have I done? Have they blocked me? Am I being added to some kind of watchlist? Massage with blowjob? Really? IDIOT!

“Today we have sensual massage with HJ.”

Phew

Not exactly what I was aiming for but better than erection wilting words like “Shiatsu,” “trigger point,” or “male masseur.”

“No problem. See you soon.” I confirm.

I take the drive to South Perth and it’s more Stormy than a Trump NDA. Thankfully, that means plenty of parking on Harper Terrace, where the shop’s located. Only 1 hour spots though, but enough longer-term options if you’re the type of punter who enjoys premature ejaculations. The shop’s closer to the Mill Point Road end, on your left if you’re heading toward the water. Good news, Harper Terrace is pretty quiet from a foot traffic or stickybeak perspective. Low risk of running into a wife, boss, or pastor while on the sacred path to a thaigasm.

The shopfront is therapeutic looking. No garish neon screaming happy endings (or sad ones depending on the age of the masseuse).

I enter and see a rack of shoes in the corner, so I take mine off and pray to God my socks don’t smell like an Amber Heard sleepover.

The place is small but nice. A reception desk at the front. Behind it, a young and cute Thai lady. I’d put her in the 20 to 30 range, but as with all Asian girls, it’s tough to gauge. She could be 18 or 48. To my jaded / failing eyes? She looked young and attractive.

I told her I was Hagrid and had a booking. She smiled, took my payment for an hour, 85 bucks from memory, card accepted, and led me to a room. She told me to get unchanged and said my masseuse would be with me soon. She added, ever so subtly, “You can discuss any areas you’d like massaged with your masseuse.” Smooth.

I was hoping she’d be my masseuse, but I sensed otherwise. I thanked her in Thai. She was surprised I could speak it, and we chatted for a bit, switching between English and Thai whenever one of us hit a translation wall. I sensed she wasn’t part of the Extras team, but who knows. I’ll ask to see her next time.

I got unchanged. The room was small with a standard massage table. Only complaint? The little box for storing my Salvation Army outfit was a bit cramped.

I stuck my face in the hole, hopefully not the last of the session, and soon, a knock on the door.

What’s your go to reply?

“Come in?” “No thanks!” “Who’s there?”

I went with “Ready.”

I heard someone enter. Now, do you crane your neck to see what you’ve drawn, or do you stay buried and pray it’s not a horror show, or worse, a bloke? I stayed buried.

I asked how she was, we chatted, and I complimented her English.

“Did you study here or in Thailand?”

She laughed.

“Why would I study in Thailand? I’m from Brazil.”

Interesting.

Then she got down to business

“Are you looking for extra today?

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“I can do handjob for 50, topless for 100, and nude using my body for 200.”

Standard offerings. But 200 for a handjob felt rich. I’m somewhat frugal when it comes to my orgasms, but I really needed to get a load off, so I went with the topless option.

She asked for the money up front. Mood killer, but fair. First time customer, holes in socks, she probably thought I was destitute. I awkwardly clambered off the bed, pitiful manhood on full display (it was cold OK!), and rifled through my jeans.

On the plus side, I got a good look at her. Decently attractive, big tits, not too old, 20s to 30s I’d guess. Not the tiny Thai spinner I usually crave, a little thicc, classic Brazilian build, but definitely not a sperm-curdler.

I handed over the 100. She gave a genuinely solid massage, digging in with full Muay Thai elbows on the knots. Didn’t half ass it, asked about pressure, and made sure I was comfortable. One really nice touch, pun not intended, was when she reached up and moved my arms from above my head to by my sides. Seconds later, I felt her naked breasts in my hands. She let me knead away while she kept massaging. Built up the anticipation beautifully.

After about 40 minutes, she asked me to flip. She wiped off the oil with a hot towel, then oiled up Hagrid Junior. She was already topless and took my hand, encouraging me to grope her. She ran a hand over my pubic region.

“You wax?” she asked.

“Guess you’re not the only Brazilian,” I winked.

She gave me a confused look. Dammit.

Didn’t take long before she hit the mongerload and I was sated. She cleaned me up and said she hoped to see me again.

After dressing, I made my way back to reception. The cute Thai girl was still there.

“How was massage?” she asked, with a smirk.

I laughed and said good.

I asked her name and what it meant in Thai

“Same fabric,” she said.

“Beautiful fabric, you mean,” I winked

Her eyes rolled harder than Snake Eyes as she wished me a good day. Dammit.

Will I be back? Yeah, I will. The massage was solid. I’m not an FS guy in shops, so your mileage may vary. I’m guessing South Perth keeps it more basic, with extras on the down low, since some clientele are women and they probably don’t want them hearing me puffing away while the girl whispers, “Let me know when it’s in.”

Happy hunting.
Click to expand...
Great review … brightened up an otherwise very wet and windy Sunday morning.
 
Now that's what you call a review!

FYI yes fs is available. Dow great value, fun, massive t*t* really rock solid Thai massage and doesn't break the bank.
Young Annie..... yeah, she breaks the bank. Massage not quite so rock solid.
Carla with the pendulous breasts more of a softer massage but pleasant lady as per the review.

Girls behind the counter are gorgeous but just reception.

All the Sickothai ha e a range of you g and beautiful ladies to more mature and from legit all the way up to fs with everything in-between.
Drex said:
It’s late Friday evening. The power of hobo grade box wine is coursing through my veins, a sure fire precursor to poor decisions made by the microscopic monster downstairs. I’ve seen the Sukhothai thread. Could it be true? A shop with Thai girls not battling menopause and Metamucil? I’m intrigued. I fire off a 10 p.m. text to the South Perth number, which of course sits unread until morning.

My phone lights up:

“What time plz?”

Despite the wine flu dragging me down, I’m up early and my balls are clamouring for morning glory.

“10:30 please,” I reply, ignoring a wave of Shirazified nausea.

“Name plz?”

“Hagrid,” I type, my faithful punting moniker.

“What kind of servicing are you looking for?” the unknown texter queries.

“Bukkake… massage with blowjob plz,” I hit send before I’d even given it much thought. Curse my horniness. What if they were just asking if I wanted Oil or Thai massage and here I am throwing out council-curse-words like bloody “blowjob.”

Jesus Christ. What have I done? Have they blocked me? Am I being added to some kind of watchlist? Massage with blowjob? Really? IDIOT!

“Today we have sensual massage with HJ.”

Phew

Not exactly what I was aiming for but better than erection wilting words like “Shiatsu,” “trigger point,” or “male masseur.”

“No problem. See you soon.” I confirm.

I take the drive to South Perth and it’s more Stormy than a Trump NDA. Thankfully, that means plenty of parking on Harper Terrace, where the shop’s located. Only 1 hour spots though, but enough longer-term options if you’re the type of punter who enjoys premature ejaculations. The shop’s closer to the Mill Point Road end, on your left if you’re heading toward the water. Good news, Harper Terrace is pretty quiet from a foot traffic or stickybeak perspective. Low risk of running into a wife, boss, or pastor while on the sacred path to a thaigasm.

The shopfront is therapeutic looking. No garish neon screaming happy endings (or sad ones depending on the age of the masseuse).

I enter and see a rack of shoes in the corner, so I take mine off and pray to God my socks don’t smell like an Amber Heard sleepover.

The place is small but nice. A reception desk at the front. Behind it, a young and cute Thai lady. I’d put her in the 20 to 30 range, but as with all Asian girls, it’s tough to gauge. She could be 18 or 48. To my jaded / failing eyes? She looked young and attractive.

I told her I was Hagrid and had a booking. She smiled, took my payment for an hour, 85 bucks from memory, card accepted, and led me to a room. She told me to get unchanged and said my masseuse would be with me soon. She added, ever so subtly, “You can discuss any areas you’d like massaged with your masseuse.” Smooth.

I was hoping she’d be my masseuse, but I sensed otherwise. I thanked her in Thai. She was surprised I could speak it, and we chatted for a bit, switching between English and Thai whenever one of us hit a translation wall. I sensed she wasn’t part of the Extras team, but who knows. I’ll ask to see her next time.

I got unchanged. The room was small with a standard massage table. Only complaint? The little box for storing my Salvation Army outfit was a bit cramped.

I stuck my face in the hole, hopefully not the last of the session, and soon, a knock on the door.

What’s your go to reply?

“Come in?” “No thanks!” “Who’s there?”

I went with “Ready.”

I heard someone enter. Now, do you crane your neck to see what you’ve drawn, or do you stay buried and pray it’s not a horror show, or worse, a bloke? I stayed buried.

I asked how she was, we chatted, and I complimented her English.

“Did you study here or in Thailand?”

She laughed.

“Why would I study in Thailand? I’m from Brazil.”

Interesting.

Then she got down to business

“Are you looking for extra today?

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“I can do handjob for 50, topless for 100, and nude using my body for 200.”

Standard offerings. But 200 for a handjob felt rich. I’m somewhat frugal when it comes to my orgasms, but I really needed to get a load off, so I went with the topless option.

She asked for the money up front. Mood killer, but fair. First time customer, holes in socks, she probably thought I was destitute. I awkwardly clambered off the bed, pitiful manhood on full display (it was cold OK!), and rifled through my jeans.

On the plus side, I got a good look at her. Decently attractive, big tits, not too old, 20s to 30s I’d guess. Not the tiny Thai spinner I usually crave, a little thicc, classic Brazilian build, but definitely not a sperm-curdler.

I handed over the 100. She gave a genuinely solid massage, digging in with full Muay Thai elbows on the knots. Didn’t half ass it, asked about pressure, and made sure I was comfortable. One really nice touch, pun not intended, was when she reached up and moved my arms from above my head to by my sides. Seconds later, I felt her naked breasts in my hands. She let me knead away while she kept massaging. Built up the anticipation beautifully.

After about 40 minutes, she asked me to flip. She wiped off the oil with a hot towel, then oiled up Hagrid Junior. She was already topless and took my hand, encouraging me to grope her. She ran a hand over my pubic region.

“You wax?” she asked.

“Guess you’re not the only Brazilian,” I winked.

She gave me a confused look. Dammit.

Didn’t take long before she hit the mongerload and I was sated. She cleaned me up and said she hoped to see me again.

After dressing, I made my way back to reception. The cute Thai girl was still there.

“How was massage?” she asked, with a smirk.

I laughed and said good.

I asked her name and what it meant in Thai

“Same fabric,” she said.

“Beautiful fabric, you mean,” I winked

Her eyes rolled harder than Snake Eyes as she wished me a good day. Dammit.

Will I be back? Yeah, I will. The massage was solid. I’m not an FS guy in shops, so your mileage may vary. I’m guessing South Perth keeps it more basic, with extras on the down low, since some clientele are women and they probably don’t want them hearing me puffing away while the girl whispers, “Let me know when it’s in.”

Happy hunting.
Click to expand...
I
 
Drex said:
It’s late Friday evening. The power of hobo grade box wine is coursing through my veins, a sure fire precursor to poor decisions made by the microscopic monster downstairs. I’ve seen the Sukhothai thread. Could it be true? A shop with Thai girls not battling menopause and Metamucil? I’m intrigued. I fire off a 10 p.m. text to the South Perth number, which of course sits unread until morning.

My phone lights up:

“What time plz?”

Despite the wine flu dragging me down, I’m up early and my balls are clamouring for morning glory.

“10:30 please,” I reply, ignoring a wave of Shirazified nausea.

“Name plz?”

“Hagrid,” I type, my faithful punting moniker.

“What kind of servicing are you looking for?” the unknown texter queries.

“Bukkake… massage with blowjob plz,” I hit send before I’d even given it much thought. Curse my horniness. What if they were just asking if I wanted Oil or Thai massage and here I am throwing out council-curse-words like bloody “blowjob.”

Jesus Christ. What have I done? Have they blocked me? Am I being added to some kind of watchlist? Massage with blowjob? Really? IDIOT!

“Today we have sensual massage with HJ.”

Phew

Not exactly what I was aiming for but better than erection wilting words like “Shiatsu,” “trigger point,” or “male masseur.”

“No problem. See you soon.” I confirm.

I take the drive to South Perth and it’s more Stormy than a Trump NDA. Thankfully, that means plenty of parking on Harper Terrace, where the shop’s located. Only 1 hour spots though, but enough longer-term options if you’re the type of punter who enjoys premature ejaculations. The shop’s closer to the Mill Point Road end, on your left if you’re heading toward the water. Good news, Harper Terrace is pretty quiet from a foot traffic or stickybeak perspective. Low risk of running into a wife, boss, or pastor while on the sacred path to a thaigasm.

The shopfront is therapeutic looking. No garish neon screaming happy endings (or sad ones depending on the age of the masseuse).

I enter and see a rack of shoes in the corner, so I take mine off and pray to God my socks don’t smell like an Amber Heard sleepover.

The place is small but nice. A reception desk at the front. Behind it, a young and cute Thai lady. I’d put her in the 20 to 30 range, but as with all Asian girls, it’s tough to gauge. She could be 18 or 48. To my jaded / failing eyes? She looked young and attractive.

I told her I was Hagrid and had a booking. She smiled, took my payment for an hour, 85 bucks from memory, card accepted, and led me to a room. She told me to get unchanged and said my masseuse would be with me soon. She added, ever so subtly, “You can discuss any areas you’d like massaged with your masseuse.” Smooth.

I was hoping she’d be my masseuse, but I sensed otherwise. I thanked her in Thai. She was surprised I could speak it, and we chatted for a bit, switching between English and Thai whenever one of us hit a translation wall. I sensed she wasn’t part of the Extras team, but who knows. I’ll ask to see her next time.

I got unchanged. The room was small with a standard massage table. Only complaint? The little box for storing my Salvation Army outfit was a bit cramped.

I stuck my face in the hole, hopefully not the last of the session, and soon, a knock on the door.

What’s your go to reply?

“Come in?” “No thanks!” “Who’s there?”

I went with “Ready.”

I heard someone enter. Now, do you crane your neck to see what you’ve drawn, or do you stay buried and pray it’s not a horror show, or worse, a bloke? I stayed buried.

I asked how she was, we chatted, and I complimented her English.

“Did you study here or in Thailand?”

She laughed.

“Why would I study in Thailand? I’m from Brazil.”

Interesting.

Then she got down to business

“Are you looking for extra today?

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“I can do handjob for 50, topless for 100, and nude using my body for 200.”

Standard offerings. But 200 for a handjob felt rich. I’m somewhat frugal when it comes to my orgasms, but I really needed to get a load off, so I went with the topless option.

She asked for the money up front. Mood killer, but fair. First time customer, holes in socks, she probably thought I was destitute. I awkwardly clambered off the bed, pitiful manhood on full display (it was cold OK!), and rifled through my jeans.

On the plus side, I got a good look at her. Decently attractive, big tits, not too old, 20s to 30s I’d guess. Not the tiny Thai spinner I usually crave, a little thicc, classic Brazilian build, but definitely not a sperm-curdler.

I handed over the 100. She gave a genuinely solid massage, digging in with full Muay Thai elbows on the knots. Didn’t half ass it, asked about pressure, and made sure I was comfortable. One really nice touch, pun not intended, was when she reached up and moved my arms from above my head to by my sides. Seconds later, I felt her naked breasts in my hands. She let me knead away while she kept massaging. Built up the anticipation beautifully.

After about 40 minutes, she asked me to flip. She wiped off the oil with a hot towel, then oiled up Hagrid Junior. She was already topless and took my hand, encouraging me to grope her. She ran a hand over my pubic region.

“You wax?” she asked.

“Guess you’re not the only Brazilian,” I winked.

She gave me a confused look. Dammit.

Didn’t take long before she hit the mongerload and I was sated. She cleaned me up and said she hoped to see me again.

After dressing, I made my way back to reception. The cute Thai girl was still there.

“How was massage?” she asked, with a smirk.

I laughed and said good.

I asked her name and what it meant in Thai

“Same fabric,” she said.

“Beautiful fabric, you mean,” I winked

Her eyes rolled harder than Snake Eyes as she wished me a good day. Dammit.

Will I be back? Yeah, I will. The massage was solid. I’m not an FS guy in shops, so your mileage may vary. I’m guessing South Perth keeps it more basic, with extras on the down low, since some clientele are women and they probably don’t want them hearing me puffing away while the girl whispers, “Let me know when it’s in.”

Happy hunting.
Click to expand...
Awesome in depth review. No stone left unturned from moment you walked in to leaving. Assume that you saw Carla going by the rosters. Have been tempted to visit this establishment for a while and now even more intrigued after reading this. Very good. Thanks.
 
Cs009 said:
Not sure about the police, but councils can close them on planning approval violation. Approved as a massage parlor but operating a brothel.

Nice job perk being council staff member who has to collect the evidence.
Click to expand...
collect ?? or leave evidence .. 🤣
 
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