princkly

Garden Of Eden is a brothel in the South Eastern Suburbs of Melbourne.
Driving up to this place, you get a real sense of occasion. The driveway sweeps round the lawn to the car park. I almost expected to hear peacocks. I dont know if it was purpose built as a parlour or as an industrial building, and some creative person realised how much more useful it could be to society as a big place full of beautiful women -- who will fuck you!

The sense of space in the gardens continues in the building. It is huge!

We have some lovely ladies for you to meet and they do..

From the moment I met her, I knew Rebel was the one for me today. And - if I say so myself - I was the one for her. We had a great old chat. One of the longest intros Id had for a while. Yack yack yack, fashion, food, books, internet, accents (she is from Eastern Europe), and finally services provided.
But, damn it all! - shed already done one intro before me, and said gentleman, as she generously referred to him, decided that thirty minutes with Rebel would suit him too.
Buggar that!, Ill take sixty.
Doesnt work like that, Im told. Have a cup of tea and wait, or meet the other ladies.
Okay. Ill wait. Dont worry about introducing me to other ladies Ive made up my mind.

So, Im in the poolroom, and start shooting pool with this young man who is happier than a kid on Christmas morning. Hes a sweet kid, new to Australia, and telling me that this is such a happy day for him because he has saved for two months, and today he is going to see the luverly lady.
Crack! He puts a ball into the top right hand pocket with absolutely no effort.
She is so beautiful, he tells me. He keeps looking back up the hallway to see if she has arrived yet.
You like coming here? I ask.
Oh, iz so beautiful, he tells me. I work hard. Do the night shift. But I always, put some little money away for this.
Sure, I say understandingly. (Its a wake up call we all need sometimes. I mean this guy has had to save for two months for this day. But, its all relative. I couldnt afford to do an overnighter with a top private; and for some blokes thats easy).
I really like this guy. This day means so much to him. And right now I feel more concerned that he has a good punt than me.
You like this type of girls? He asks.
Yeah, I do, I love Working Ladies I admit.
Working Ladies? He considers the term. Then bursts out laughing. Oh yeah! Working Ladies!
Thats how some of us refer to girls in parlours, I tell him.
Working Ladies, yeah its good, he says. Sometimes is lonely, he tells me. But you come here - they make you feel very special.
Yeah they do, I agree. The right girl can be a God-send. I miss another ball, sending the white careering round the table without contacting anything.
You do better than this in the bedroom, yes?, he asks me.
Dont get cheeky mate, I laugh.
He laughs. Then
Ah! She is here!
And although all he has to do is pot the black and he is done, he happily tosses his cue aside, as he is dragged off to the bedroom by a blonde goddess. He looks back at me as he leaves the room. His face is lit up like a Christmas tree. I give him a wink and the thumbs up.

Now the pool table is mine alone and I still cant get the frigging ball to go into the frigging pocket.
But soon enough, Rebel comes to rescue me.
Alrightshe says in her slow sensual educated European voice.
We go to the counter.
How long for? Asks the receptionist.
Depends. Can you turn the radio off in the room? I ask.
Yes.
Then do so. One hour please, I say.
Up the stairs, to find even more space. You could play indoor cricket in the landing space atop the stairs.

Bedrooms are pretty big too with en-suites rather than shower cubicles in the corner.
Showers done. Princkly playing with the lighting. Rebel returns.
Im flattered that you waited for me, she says.
Oh, its fine. I needed to hone my pool skills anyway. I got a big comp coming up. Now, where were we?

And I do it again!
Rebel has got a cracker of a body! Just beautiful to look upon. But what am I doing? Yack! Yack! Yack! Yack!. I do it all the time these days! I keep booking really interesting Girls and all I want to do is talk to them!

I have to stop liking women for their minds! At least, when I go for a punt.

But this is a lovely experience! She is so philosophically minded.
And - get this! - there is a free dress-up fantasy tossed in. Although I dont think she is aware of it.
But she has long blonde hair and wears a beret. So the beret is on, and the long blonde hair is on, and she is so engaged in the conversation, she is looking and talking like some French intellectual from the 1950s. I wish she was drinking red wine and smoking a Gauloise cigarette.
At the same time, she is on the bed with me butt-naked. And after skirting around concepts of morality in literature, she is telling me she is thinking of giving Dostoevsky another go. Next thing I know were rabbiting on about Crime and Punishment, when suddenly she stops herself.
You want to do anything? She asks, concerned.
I think Id better, I say.
Yes, I think you should too.

But weve been talking so much I have lost my urge.

UmI dont know where to start, I say. I know! Ill just go down on you, if thats okay.
Why should I complain about that? She says.
Greatthatll keep me happy for a while. Shut me up too.
Ten minutes later, the serious rumbles and demands are happening. Yes! Were going to have our own little Eastern European Revolution right here.
Whew, that was nice! She says.
Not real bad for me either. I admit.
What can I do for you? She asks.
Dont ask, just do it, I tell her.

So she gently starts on me. Sweet gentle kisses down the body before the commencement of the oral. Then more kisses.
Whats up? She asks.
You wont break me, I reassure her. I mean, you can be a little firmer with me.
Oh okay.
I want to be made aware of two things, I tell her. One- youre a beautiful woman and two- youre fucking me. Pretty philosophical hey?
And so riding me reverse cowgirl, she delivers a litany of beautiful poetic filth in her gorgeous accent.
How was that? She asks laughing.
Pretty fucking good! I tell her. Lets go missionary.
Whatever.
Five minutes of pumping that way, and Im done.

Toss that old condom away with the tissues in the little pink bag and its back to the books and concepts of morality, and is anybody free at all, and do we really own ourselves, and do you have obligations to society, andah, you know how it goes And all delivered by a naked stunning blonde wearing a beret.

Hey, it works for me.