Name: Zara
Address: 52 Greek St, Soho, London W1D
From : Bulgaria
Date: Friday 2nd July
Age range: 20-26
Looks like: An exotic, voluptuous, burlesque dancer proto-type with Audrey Hepburn’s beauty, Linsey Dawn McKenzie’s pre-boob job breasts and alluring Arabic eyes.
Late last year I gave a review of her that made her seem like she was the best thing to happen to mankind since the invention of the wheel.
Since that review I have seen her twice and her approach to me had been pleasant but nothing noteworthy. Still as far as Soho Walk-ups go she to me, attraction wise, was by far the best going but I had kept my visits limited as she was always busy.
In the past weeks or so in the Soho walk-up thread a punter asked about cumming on her breasts. I replied, thinking theoretically, that money would be the answer. I wanted to put that theory into practice and also put my gambling accumulator winnings into good use. Zara, like I said, is very busy and popular person so the best time I found was a Friday morning when she is just about starting.
“Busy for half an hour!” was what the maid screamed from the door when I got there. There is a Mastermind black leather chair outside in the flat where punters usually wait. I was feeling impatient so I decided to search for another Soho WG to spunk over. The “Half an hour“ addition to the “Busy” sentence should have aroused my suspicions as there was nobody sitting in the leather chair outside her door.
Frustrated I left with a wallet full of cash and a nutsack full of cum. I wanted big tits to splash over, or a willing face or mouth to jizz in. I had been with big blonde Turk Vanessa, who while no oil painting, had lovely knockers that I’d jizzed on in the past. I went to where she was and the sign on her door read “New girl today” with no description of her body type. I moved further upstairs. This sign read “New busty”, “This might be Tina, Zara’s younger clone” I thought. I had asked her about jizzing on tits but she had told me that she hated cum but I thought to try the money experiment on her too. I looked; it wasn’t Tina but a new slim and stacked woman. Her energy told me that she wouldn’t be open for negotiation for anything more than vanilla so I moved on.
My ball sack needed emptying and there was nothing to it, I had to brave the crazy screaming maniac Angela at 28 Peter St. I’ve spunked on every inch of that maniac’s body. So, I went there for a guaranteed release. In her place however, was a petite barely legal looking, genuine English bird called Scarlet. Suffice to say I stayed and spunked on her petite breasts.
Happy Ending. All can go home now right?
No.
I’m a stubborn person as in when I set out to do something i want it done and I still had loads of cash on me, 30 minutes had way gone and I still had enough spunk in me to go back and see Zara...
“Busy for half a hour” was the reply I got for the second time from the maid.
This time I was angry “But it’s been over half an hour?”
Anyway I presumed that she was genuinely with another half hour customer and I was just unlucky. I went on about my business. Later that evening I realized that I’d left my phone in 28 Peter St, where Scarlett was. I rang it and they said they would be open until 5am. As well as getting back my phone I saw it as another opportunity of chancing it with Zara, among the revelers, dregs, drunks and dealers of the late night.
I went to 28 Peter St and there were two guys waiting outside, they were friendly and we chatted immediately. I told them that I had been there earlier that day and I was just there to collect my forgotten phone and that the girl was top class. When the door opened a different, no so top class girl opened it and I told the guys that it wasn’t her. The maid gave me my phone and off to 52 Greek St I went. Good, the Mastermind seat was empty, I knocked on the door and the maid said “She’ll be out in ten minutes” so I sat on that chair making sure that my feet was visible to potential customers coming downstairs as I didn’t want to startle anyone.
Down first came a group of American drunk tourists, we had a two minute laugh then they fucked off, then came down the same guys, now drunk however, that I saw at 28 Peter st. I told them this one was a star babe, but they said they wanted a black girl, I told them to try the Internet, Adultwork, for that, we laughed then they fucked off.
Then came a trio of teenage drug addicts, nice enough guys but off their heads. I dealt with them well, and managed to get them out.
Zara’s door finally opened and out came a meek, confused looking man who looked genuinely disabled. Zara glimpsed at me said “Busy for half an hour” and then slammed the door.
I was bewildered and bemused then the maid came out and said “Busy for half an hour we had another customer inside”.
“You should have told me earlier I’ve already been waiting for half an hour” I was really pissed off.
I then banged at the door and asked “Zara what’s wrong? “
No answer.
I was certain that she had mixed me up with someone else. All us blacks look the same to some people.
“Go and see someone else, there are two other girls upstairs” she finally replied.
“I don’t want to see another girl, I want to see you.” I was starting to sound like a wussy Cyrano de Bergerac character.
“You’re too big, you fuck too hard” she said.
“You’re mistaking me for someone else, do you even know who I am? I’ve only seen you about three times?” I pleaded. If this were a film the soppy serenade music would be full on now.
“Yes I remember you”
The maid came out with a more aggressive stance “ If she doesn’t want to see you she doesn’t have to”
“Christ” I thought to myself, I only wanted to jizz on her boobs, not ask her to be a surrogate mother to my unborn children.
I wanted the maid to be my her my middle person between us “Can you ask her why I can’t see her anymore and what I have done please? At least then I’ll know not what to do with other girls in the future.”
She wasn’t having it “She told you why, she doesn’t have to see you anymore if she doesn’t want to. Go somewhere else.”
Now desperate, I did what every person of colour does as a last resort when they do not get their way and played the race card -
“This is racism and discrimination you are both so rude, dis-polite and dis-courteous ! I have come from so far and this is how you treat a regular customer? “
“I don’t care, you can’t come in.” said the maid, still not giving a fuck.
“This is the United Kingdon, not apartheid South Africa” I was starting to sound stupid now.
“Like I said you cannot force your way in, she doesn’t want to see you.”
This was crushing, but no matter how angry I was, they were right, I had no right to go in there if she didn’t want to see me and she had every right to refuse me for whatever reason.
But for the sake of politeness I would have liked her to be big enough to tell me to my face. I genuinely enjoyed every occasion that I was with her and although I could tell that her enthusiasm with me was waning our last couple of occasions, I didn’t think that she’d ever be disrespectful with me as she was that night.
I realised any further protesting was an erosion of my dignity.
She’s worn, tired, exhausted, isolated, lost and wants out. Stuck in that mini prison they call a room for 15 hours a day, no matter how much paid, would affect anyone’s mind.
Was it racist what she did to me? Almost certainly, but if I were in her shoes I’d probably do the same. Cooped up in that pen with dicks round the clock, the last thing I’d want is a wannabe Rico Strong tearing my money maker out.
I needed a grand exit, a finale for her to remember me by. I went into my bag and got out the money I was going to give her, took £30 from it put it under her door, knocked on it and said “Goodbye Zara”.
