Was in town the other day and up for a punt but was having one of them frustrating days. You know the sort. When you go through your hotlist and all the girls you want to meet are either not answering their phones or are unavailable. I should have given up and gone home but instead I did a search using the
'available now' button. And that's how I came up with:
External Link/Members Only Hidden Image/Members Only I like Hungarian girls and have had some good punts with them with the standout being that consummate pro, Adele4u. This one wasn't anywhere near being in her league (who is?) but at £60 an hour with extras of pics, CIM and prostate massage realistically priced at £10 a throw, it seemed a reasonable TOFTT punt to try.
Comms: answered my querying text promptly asking what time I wanted to book for and how long I wanted. On sending this information, I received a street name and a postcode.
Location: In the murky depths of Sarth London, about a ten minute walk from Selhurst station. Not too bad an area during the day but I wouldn't fancy it late at night.
The awful truth. Got there with a few minutes to spare and texted to let her know. After a few minutes I got back a text instructing me to text her when I got there. Replied that I was there and waited a few more minutes before I got back the same text telling me to text her when I arrived on her street. I replied that I was on her street. It was now 15 minutes past the agreed start time and I was starting to get that familiar 'being fucked about' feeling and was about to bail when I got a call giving me the house number.
I quickly made my way to the place which was a scruffy, run down terrace house with several black wheely bins squeezed into the small forecourt. I rang the bell with a rapidly deepening sense of gloom and foreboding which coalesced into a kind of fascinated horror as I set eyes on the 'beauty' who answered the door and rudely ushered me into an untidy living room strewn with piles of rubbish and abandoned items of clothing. I immediately got a strong sense of terminal bad attitude as she muttered something evil sounding, in Magyar, beneath her breath. I really felt as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit. Now the bird in the AW profile picture is no Barbara Palvin and looked to be a little thick through the waist but hardly had the gut which this lady was fondly stroking through a grimy looking white shift. This one would have had Jimmy Five Bellies green with envy. And to cap it all she had the kind of face that I can best describe with the warning that it be wise to keep it away from fresh milk. I had fucked up big time.
Barbi must have seen the horrified look in my eyes as she exclaimed 'what, WHAT?'. I mumbled something about having left my wallet in the car, turned on my heels and fled. I might have given Usain Bolt a 10 metre start and whopped his ass, so fast did I move down that street.
I later discovered that she has a verification picture which, had I noticed to begin with, might have saved me the wasted trip.
