External Link/Members OnlyGet comfy fellas, put the kettle on, have a cuppa and get ready for some light entertainment at the expense of myself and my bank balance.
This, lads, is a classic case/example, of why you should think with your head on your shoulders, and not the one inbetween your legs. Master the art of walking/saying NO, and you'll never have to write a negative review and you'll also save yourself a TONNE of cash.
I found myself far from home like Spiderman, in a quiet and sleepy residential part of Essex, visiting friends over the spring weekend who had just moved into the area.
Before i had even made the trip up there, i had already made the decision that i was going to have a punt on the way home, because in my head, Essex is made out to be this semi-glamorous area full of blondes and brunettes, both young and old, with big tits and dick sucking lips....wellllllll....they must all live in every other part of Essex, except for the one place that i was visiting, as pickings were slim like shady.
I didn't do any prior research, as i thought the local WG's will change their availability according to what suits them, so I didn't want to find a stunner, put her on my HL only to find out she's not working when I'm in town. So i settled with the (piss poor) plan of when its time to leave my friends house, park down the road and do a quick AW search and see who and what was available.
What i was expecting to find, as previously stated above, was the Mbappe's and Halaand's of Essex, glamorous/top tier(ish) WG's...what i was actually presented with was WG's straight out of Burnley or West Broms reserve team (or should that be Colchester due to location..?)
Adamant that i had to realise a few weeks worth of love juice, i settled on an AW profile by the name of "You And Me." Just to be clear, this was Plan C, as Plan A had told me she had a client coming in for an hour and Plan B didn't get back to me.
Comms was all done via text and straightforward.."so far so good" i naively thought. As i arrived to the given location alarm bells start ringing...its one of those residential roads where when they see a car they don't recognise, everyone stops and stares to see who's in the car and which house it's going too. Not only that, but every other house on the road, is either someone washing their car on their driveway OR teenage kids having a kick about or just sitting on the wall hanging out.
My brain is telling me go home. My dick is saying fuck it.
So i park up the car, get out and start walking towards a house. I call the WG to tell her I'm across the road to which she tells me, "i can't see you, have you got the right door number? Send me a photo so i know what you look like", just as i start to walk down someone's drive. She then tells me I've got the wrong place and re-directs me...
My brain is yelling GO HOME, but my dick is still saying fuck it.
As the old boys washing their cars watch me mistakenly walk down the wrong driveway, then cross the road and walk into the correct front garden, before i can even close the gate and knock on the front door, THE STENCH of dogs is so powerful, I'm absolutely convinced Cruela DeVille is about to open the door, drag me in and suck me off while all the dalmatians sit there and watch. That would've been a good punt, had it played out. Instead, the door opens and I'm greeted by an english woman (late 40s/early 50s) who looks like Cathy Burke from "Kevin & Perry" and is not much taller than an oompa loompa, covered up in her dressing gown.
By now, like Murray Walker, my brain is screaming "Go! Go! Gooo!", but my dick is STILL saying fuck it.
I'm now inside the house and the stench of dog isn't easing off AT ALL. As I'm led up the stairs and into the bedroom, i have this weird gut feeling that we're not alone and that her partner is in another room. I never found out, but if you're going to bring in random punters into your home like she is, then i understand. Money is exchanged (£50 for 15mins) and off she goes to hide it. She takes rather long to do this, more than a few minutes, and my gut feeling ever so slightly intensifies.
She finally comes back and i strip off and lie, on what feels and looks like, the bedroom/bed that her and her partner share. Even though we had agreed on OWO, all i got was a lackluster handjob. "Tell me when you're ready to put the condom on" she mumbles as she watches the TV. Rubber on...missionary for about a minute or two...doggy for a minute or two, and that was it. There's absolutely nothing else to tell you about the punt. If an MMA fight had started at the same time, the first round would still be going by the time i popped in the bag. I was just pumpin as hard and as fast as i could so i could get out of there.
Finally, I've got my clothes back on, and I'm now leading her back down the stairs, so i can get out ASAP, as post nut clarity has well and truly kicked in. "Wait wait, hold on.." she says to me. "You can't just go, the neighbours will be suspicious." At this point, in my head I'm like, fuck you, fuck your neighbours, i just need to get out of here. But what she does next surprised even me.
She gives me a Tesco's bag...and puts two large empty boxes of dog food in it.
"Here take this, you can make out like you've just bought summink off me, like on Ebay." Lady, the only thing i BOUGHT today was your pussy. And the fact that i probably didn't even get 50 pumps for my £50 equates to more than £1 a pump. You're now dabbling in petrol price territory and you're nowhere near as valuable.
Needless to say, that Tesco bag got dropped off at the nearest lampost once i was out of sight of all the twitchy curtains and busy bodies on the street.
Lesson Learnt: If in doubt, wank it out.
D.I.T.
Topic: You and me - Stanford Le Hope/Essex - TOFTT (Read 2058 times)
