I am very proud of this fuck. And so is Stacey.
It was a remarkable achievement for both of us.
It's not that we performed like porn-stars or set the bedroom on fire - it's more what we overcame to get there.
This is what you call the great turn-around. Snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.
The first 20 minutes would have to be one of the most disastrous beginnings I have ever had in any brothel. Connecting was difficult and it just got progressively worse. It seemed there was no level on which we could communicate. I sensed she didn't want to be there - and within five minutes neither did I.
How did I end up in this pickle? 112 Dryburgh Street is a very reliable parlour. I've had some great sessions there. Today there were three girls in the intro. All youngish, all attractive enough. (As a side note I must say Cocoa was looking fabulous but I have been with her a couple of times before). Today I was out for something new.
But "something new" doesn't always pay dividends. This was the first time I had gotten off the bed and said "Enough; I am going" Actually I said it very quietly. More with a note of sad despair than anger.
She seemed to soften.
"We can do this" she said. "It'll be okay".
"No, I don't think so" I said.
"Please", she implored.
God knows why, but I decided to give it one more go.
I lay down next to her again.
She rolled over. Sat astride me. Fell forward, breathed in my ear.
Held me very close. I listened to her breath and tenderly rubbed her back.
And then, surprisingly, after so much coldness and distance --- she kissed me.
I mean, she kissed me! Like with serious intent.
I didn't ask for this. I hadn't asked for anything. But she kissed me with such passion it was extraordinary.
She pulled back. Looked me in the eyes to see if it was okay. Then started kissing me again. I closed my eyes and surrendered to it. Her choice. I'll happily take it!
We rolled over so I was on top. The kissing continued.
I kissed down her body.
Went down on her.
She turned slightly to get us into sixty-nine. Slipped a condom on.
After bringing each other almost to climax in sixty-nine, I turned round and we started the main course in missionary.
Suddenly everything was beautiful. She fucked me with amazing passion. Her eyes were hungry and determined. Absolutely delighted in my orgasm. Grabbed my head so that our faces would be close, and whisperedHold me. Hold me close.
In some ways it was a proud moment for her. (She's only nineteen I found out later). She saved a disastrous situation and it takes a professional working girl to pull herself together and do that.
The change of atmosphere in the room was remarkable.
We laughed about it.
To be honest it left me somewhat bamboozled - but also I felt a little proud myself. How could two people turn a session around from something so utterly disastrous to one of real pleasure?
Of the hundreds of times I have been with Working Girls I have had, I can only recall one other session where I realised it was utterly doomed, and I knew I was in a room with the wrong girl at the wrong time. I wish that girl had shown the same decency and determination to repair the situation that young Stacey did.
She told me things that made the whole situation more understandable. I felt privileged to be trusted. Just as the first twenty minutes had seemed like being in a butchers fridge; in the last twenty minutes we just seemed to grow closer and closer. In the end we just seemed to emanate warmth for each other. I was sorry to have to go.
The task of a Working Lady isn't always easy I guess. The client before you could be the one that stresses her to the max and leaves the next client to cop the fall-out and pick up the pieces.
It takes a strong and professional woman to draw the line between the last client and the next one.
It was a pleasure to witness a young woman do that today.
I don't whether this will be a career for her - that's her business. But whilst she is doing it I admire her commitment to do it properly and give excellent service.
It was a remarkable achievement for both of us.
It's not that we performed like porn-stars or set the bedroom on fire - it's more what we overcame to get there.
This is what you call the great turn-around. Snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.
The first 20 minutes would have to be one of the most disastrous beginnings I have ever had in any brothel. Connecting was difficult and it just got progressively worse. It seemed there was no level on which we could communicate. I sensed she didn't want to be there - and within five minutes neither did I.
How did I end up in this pickle? 112 Dryburgh Street is a very reliable parlour. I've had some great sessions there. Today there were three girls in the intro. All youngish, all attractive enough. (As a side note I must say Cocoa was looking fabulous but I have been with her a couple of times before). Today I was out for something new.
But "something new" doesn't always pay dividends. This was the first time I had gotten off the bed and said "Enough; I am going" Actually I said it very quietly. More with a note of sad despair than anger.
She seemed to soften.
"We can do this" she said. "It'll be okay".
"No, I don't think so" I said.
"Please", she implored.
God knows why, but I decided to give it one more go.
I lay down next to her again.
She rolled over. Sat astride me. Fell forward, breathed in my ear.
Held me very close. I listened to her breath and tenderly rubbed her back.
And then, surprisingly, after so much coldness and distance --- she kissed me.
I mean, she kissed me! Like with serious intent.
I didn't ask for this. I hadn't asked for anything. But she kissed me with such passion it was extraordinary.
She pulled back. Looked me in the eyes to see if it was okay. Then started kissing me again. I closed my eyes and surrendered to it. Her choice. I'll happily take it!
We rolled over so I was on top. The kissing continued.
I kissed down her body.
Went down on her.
She turned slightly to get us into sixty-nine. Slipped a condom on.
After bringing each other almost to climax in sixty-nine, I turned round and we started the main course in missionary.
Suddenly everything was beautiful. She fucked me with amazing passion. Her eyes were hungry and determined. Absolutely delighted in my orgasm. Grabbed my head so that our faces would be close, and whisperedHold me. Hold me close.
In some ways it was a proud moment for her. (She's only nineteen I found out later). She saved a disastrous situation and it takes a professional working girl to pull herself together and do that.
The change of atmosphere in the room was remarkable.
We laughed about it.
To be honest it left me somewhat bamboozled - but also I felt a little proud myself. How could two people turn a session around from something so utterly disastrous to one of real pleasure?
Of the hundreds of times I have been with Working Girls I have had, I can only recall one other session where I realised it was utterly doomed, and I knew I was in a room with the wrong girl at the wrong time. I wish that girl had shown the same decency and determination to repair the situation that young Stacey did.
She told me things that made the whole situation more understandable. I felt privileged to be trusted. Just as the first twenty minutes had seemed like being in a butchers fridge; in the last twenty minutes we just seemed to grow closer and closer. In the end we just seemed to emanate warmth for each other. I was sorry to have to go.
The task of a Working Lady isn't always easy I guess. The client before you could be the one that stresses her to the max and leaves the next client to cop the fall-out and pick up the pieces.
It takes a strong and professional woman to draw the line between the last client and the next one.
It was a pleasure to witness a young woman do that today.
I don't whether this will be a career for her - that's her business. But whilst she is doing it I admire her commitment to do it properly and give excellent service.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
india:
figmentation:
