princkly

How fortune has smiled upon me lately. I am so blessed!
God must want me to see these beautiful Working Ladies.
My gorgeous regulars have been taking our sessions to a whole new level of excitement (so exciting in fact, that it is hard to justify shopping around).
But on the occasions that I have, I just seem to meet the most wonderful young girls.

And here is another thing that amazes me. I have always avoided WL's under thirty. But my last three discoveries have all been in the lower age bracket: Brooklyn from Studio 446; Melissa from Presidential Suite; Isabella from Hallam Penthouse; and now Sarah at Ladies for Gentlemen.

Ah, Ladies for Gentlemen!
There are so few parlours in Melbourne that can compare with this place for atmosphere. I can think of even fewer parlours where I would have liked this tender drama to unfold.

I love this parlour. Everyone in Melbourne knows it. Even those who would disdain brothels and would like to pretend they don't exist.
It's there. In your face. Proud and handsome little old Victorian terrace house bearing its insolent sign that every eastbound car must face up to.
It's an icon on the corner of Punt Road and Brunton Avenue. Right opposite another icon - the Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Thousands stand on the bridge top Richmond Station and look down on it as they await their trains.
Every time I visit this parlour I am excited by the thought of a myriad of cars and pedestrians passing by the door. They are forced to see the blatant yellow sign and know it is a brothel.
And I am in there, cocooned in a Victorian bedchamber. Illuminated yellow lights so soft they serve no useful purpose other than love making.
And I am being fucked on a big bed in an ostentatiously decorated room.
Yes! I am in there --- WITH A PROSTITUTE.
The cars and pedestrians flow past. So many must look at the drawn curtains and wonder with disgust and hidden envy: What sort of man would be in there? What goes on in there? Is there anyone in there now?

You bet your arse there is.
It's me!
Hiding behind the heavy crimson drapes; surrounded by its Victorian decadence and sordid pleasures.

There had been three girls in the introduction.
As always at Ladies For Gentlemen there is little debate, hesitance or negotiation about oral sex, Kissing, passionate services. That's one thing this parlour is very frank about.
I would have happily spent some time with any of the ladies, but Sarah had me from the outset. Utterly captivated me. To such an extent that the sex I had come to purchase almost became secondary in my mind. I just wanted to spend some time with her.

This girl was one you dream about. She is so sweet I am reluctant to mention her.
She is an Australian country girl but she has been living in Ireland. Her accent has an Irish lilt that she has picked up. But she even looks like a sweet Irish girl.

He freshness and sweetness is extraordinary. This is only her fifth day working. She tells me she is from the country.
I can believe that I say, looking into her lovely open innocent face.
I was on a dairy farm.
A dairy farm? Milking the cows? I ask. Well you should be able to give a great hand job.
Sweet Sarah blushed and gulped as though I'd said this line to her at a formal gathering.
I felt quite ashamed of myself.
You see, most WL's I have been with have a rollicking and bawdy humour. And many come up with jokes and lines that make me blush. In fact some actually delight in watching my shocked reaction. (God I love them!).

Sarah has freckles. Her eyes are innocent and sparkle with happiness.

She seemed to be both restrained by her good manners but also excited by the atmosphere and occasion: Me the client. She the Working Lady.

This is her new job and I wonder if it is also her fantasy.
She has become the woman she read about in novels and saw in films.
She is the prostitute.
Family and friends would gasp with her horror at what she is doing. Look at me now. I am the prostitute.
I watch her restlessness. It's like she is impatient to use the horniness that is in her. Horniness that is more likely created by her self-fulfilment rather than my presence I should admit.
Whatever, one thing is clear: at this stage she likes her job!

And I like my role. I'm always happy in brothels. To me it's the most joyous occasion. I'm always thrilled to be in a room with a naughty emboldened woman wearing a garment and shoes that says nothing but SEX!.

Sarah, sat on the edge of the bed, and we chatted a while. I got up to put down my cup and saucer on the mantelpiece. I returned to the bed and sat next to her. We stared at the floor for second. The pause and silence was easy and comfortable - it didn't matter. There was no heaviness in the air at all.

With a slight blush, smoothing out her dress against her knees she said (verbatim) "Well, I'd like to start off by kissing you if I may".

With a tender shyness she sat herself closer to me. Put her arm around my shoulder and necked with me like my girlfriend used to thirty odd years ago.

I was shocked.
She seemed concerned that she had done something wrong.
"Its fine" I reassure her. "You're just so lovely".
"If I'm being too passionate just say" she tells me. "I kind of like to get into it and enjoy myself a bit".
"Everything is fine" I say.

She lets me help her off with her dress. She wears no bra. Her breasts sat beautifully and proudly under her dress. She has red underpants. I slip them down. I tenderly kiss down to her lovely shaved pussy.

Cunnilingus to orgasm.
We all claim to do it.
Generally I don't mention it in my posts unless I am 99% sure it was the genuine article. Because we all know about girls going "oooooohhh.aaaaaaa" to move the session along. So I will certainly mention the oral sex to let fellow punters know it was on the menu, but if there is no mention of her climax or orgasm, you can assume that I probably had a better time than she did.

Not today.
Her involvement was extraordinary. As a giver it was the most satisfying I can remember in a long time. Not just because she tastes delicious (and she does taste delicious), but also because like everything else about her it was thoroughly genuine.
The howls were outrageous!
Panting and red faced at the end she says "Oh God!, Oh dear!. People would have heard me. What will the other girls think?" She was both delighted and ashamed.

I sound like a big head don't I?
I just really don't know how else to convey the naturalness and the innocence and complete lack of pretence this girl emanates

"I'd like to do you if I may" she says.
There goes that charming "If I may" again.

She slips a condom on and give me head, looking up at me with inquiring eyes. I am sure my groans reassured her she was doing just fine.

We move on.
Condom on. She sits aside me cowgirl.
She fucked me like I was her boyfriend. No other words for it.
I was overwhelmed by the utter naturalness of it.
It's like she doesn't know how else to do it. So she just fucks you like a lover.
It is amazing!!

Finally we go into missionary and she pushes me on. She decides a whack across my arse to push me across the line wouldn't hurt either. Cheek!
She made me laugh.
She is pretty keen to see what the different effects will have.
But all the time I see her innocence. A Sunday School teacher with the secret life of a slut.

We had about 15 minutes left and then I extended a little more. I just wanted to be with her. I'd already shot my load, so I knew extended time would purely be for the pleasure of her company. It was worth it.

We sat on the bed and talked of this and that; and she told me things that probably best stay in the room.

After showering I watched her dress. Sometimes that can be as exciting as watching them undress.
Her wrap around dress fell open again as she was putting it on. Glorioius sight of her pale skin flashing through the curtains of black. Her pretty red panties were on the floor next to the bed. Like a gentleman I picked them up to hand them to her.
Like the debauched gentleman I really am, I held them to my face to inhale their gorgeous aroma first.
Sarah squealed in both shock and delight. Her face went redder than her panties.

For the next few hours all I wanted was for the experience to linger.
Of course it couldn't be true but it felt like there was a sweetness upon my lips.
If I gently touched my lips with the tip of my tongue I could still taste her sweetness.
I wanted it to linger. But I also wanted to run my tongue over my lips and consume these last sweet morsels. Resistance was hard. If I allowed myself the smallest touch of my lips with the tip of my tongue I can make the taste of her last. However each taste filled me with hunger and a desire to madly consume the little that is left.

As I write this, it's all gone but the memory. I know I have to return for more.