I knew you were good Falken but Damn!
[QUOTE=JoshuaFalken;6048481]I met up with Daisy a few nights ago because, every now and again, I take utter leave of my senses and book a provider for an absurd donation, just to know how she feels on the inside. With initial pleasantries behind us, I was offered a "special" 2am rate of 100/200/300 and elected a thirty minute dalliance for two hundred bob. It was then I received the evening's first disappointment when beckoned to a low end motel on North A1A known well by mongers and providers alike for its, shall we say, economies.
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My second disappointment came when I was literally pulling into her parking lot. It was then the wee lass (or perhaps her boyfriend, manager, dope boy, whatever he is, I think I'll just call him Bobby) vectored me out for cigarettes. Fifteen minutes and as many grumbles later and I'm pulling back in, smokes in hand. The lass occupied a seat next to a second story stoop, so I bounced up the exterior flight of stairs and handed her the smokes like a good errand boy.
The wee lass subsequently beckoned me into a flat roughly half the size of my master bathroom. Though quite clean and tidy, I was immediately assaulted by the acrid remnants left by hundreds of chain smoking denizens. Ugh, disappointment number three.
The lass asks if I mind her smoking in the room. "I prefer you didn't," I replied as politely as I could. She was cool about it, agreeing to go "take a few quick hits" outside. When she opened the door I noted Bobby's arse firmly planted in the chair wee Daisy had vacated only moments before. Whatever, I'm far from surprised.
The lass returned and promptly striped to the buff as I lay her donation upon the dresser. She began counting it immediately and I steeled myself for complaints that it was light by exactly the price of a pack of cigarettes. I was relieved that none came, promptly dropped trou myself, and lay back upon the room's only bed while admiring the view before me.
Wee Daisy looks just like the pics in her ads, compact and muscular with flawless tanned skin and reasonably tasteful tattoos. Unfortunately, the winning smile pervading her ads was entirely absent from our encounter as the lass displayed a chemically-induced detachment throughout the entirety of my brief visit. And so the festivities began much in keeping with the date thus far, with the lass covering up Sir John Thomas for an inevitably mediocre covered BJ (that's five). I mean, it wasn't that bad, save for the frequent periods when the lass would stop and sway, eyes closed, before collecting her senses and resuming her task.
A few minutes hence and she wordlessly climbed aboard in reverse cowgirl and began to bounce, her tiny bald peach squeezing my shaft with a kung fu grip. I start to relax and savor the feelings and the view when, perhaps thirty seconds in, the lass dismounts and asks if I want to "hit it from the back." I certainly did, but requested some time in missionary first. "I don't really do mish," the lass replies. "So what do you do?" I ask, supremely unimpressed with her work ethic. "Well, reverse cowgirl, obviously, and doggy," the lass offers with the air of one proudly laying out a feast before me. I stared dumbfounded for a moment, having lost track of the disappointment count, before regaining my composure. "Sure love, let's hit it from the back." And so I did, silently grudge fucking her in bedside doggy until, aided by a truly fantastic view of a very fine physique, I exploded into the bag.
The rest was just me grabbing the evidence and hitting the eject button, taking care not to allow Bobby a good facial view on my way out.
So in the plus column, the lass is beautiful with flawless tatted sable skin and blessedly perfect hygiene. She is also amazingly tight with perky breasts and a truly magnificent posterior. In the minus column, absolutely everything else. Would, I repeat? Certainly. I'd drop a hundred quid for a quickie with her any time, which incidentally is what I got when donating two hundred quid for a half hour date, truth be told. Unfortunately, most days their pricing is just fully detatched from reality. So yeah, Daisy and Bobby have a fundamental problem. They want to charge Milan prices but provide Ridgewood service and accommodations, making the absurd prices they post in most of their ads all the more laughable. If you're going to drop two hundred bob on a date, just go see Sami and get an hour of fun with a friendly and skilled provider in upscale (usually) lodgings.
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