Creepy Crawley.
One to forget but a fellow punter said post a review so I'm doing so.
On a thread somewhere I said Croydon, but geography is a little confused, in spite of my avatar (I know I'm hardly using it exclusively) I am a northerner who seldom goes South.
Ok so in a nutshell:
Comms 5/10 - quick but impatient texts. Had about 20 mins to get over there after a night out then a bit of ennui kicked in at my city centre cheap stay over.
Venue: 6/10 Cheap looking but large, ominous looking hotel in outer edge, Crawley. couldn't park because of barriers so was parked stranded just outside the barriers. Felt bit exposed and monitored as wasn't able to park particularly legally. Dashing across reception felt dicey in case they saw I'd not parked as a guest.
Action: 3/10 The journey ikind of felt part of the action on this as you know you are getting sucked into (and hopefully sucked off) a clandestine world. So the tension builds with the flatly written, objective written texts where you feel like you are on a peculiar treasure hunt and are told to text when you are in the lift and only at that point get what room it is. That kind of stuff sets the pulse racing a bit. Got out of lift and couldn't see where I was meant to go and received a text saying step forward so I can see you. It felt like I was going to be taken hostage or something by a Bond Villain.
The text said which door to come to and I'd already had the text saying " have correct money ready dispense it in the hole then put your cock in etc. No talking etc etc"
So through the door and closed as instructed to be greeted by the insalubrious pop up tent.
Then the most bizarre part
Hidden Image/Members OnlyBeing beckoned to put my dick through the well documented pop up tent construction.
The hand though painted nails reminded me of Thing from Addams Family.
It got worse then because after some initial cock manipulation, a bit of perfunctory mouth action and stroking there was some mad tapping on the tent walls which was quite disconcerting. I eventually sussed that I should withdraw and then the Thing got very impatient, angry in fact:
Hidden Image/Members OnlyI couldn't work out what it was trying to tell me and heard some real frustrated moans etc inside the tent and more tapping. I eventually sussed that it wanted me to present my arse for rimming. But by this time I was a little edgy to say the least. By now for the sheer odd comedy of it I thought why the hell not. Bent over and sheepishly presented my arse to the hole...yes, it felt quite humiliating and submissive. Not quite the deal I was after
My arse was test wiped with a wet wipe and then a little very perfunctory tonguing before being urged by the Impatient THING to turn around and put my now highly unaroused cock back in.
Hidden Image/Members Onlyso some jerking and slurping with some flappy type sounds of the tent material like a demented bat and god knows how but the old chap rises a bit. Then a condom is clamped on and what seems like an arse presented and more demented signalling and signalling from Marcel Marceau's best mate to shove my not very woody dick into an orifice I can't see.
I'm pretty sure it was an arse. Fucking Marcel Marceau's dead French arse I bet...
Fortunately this didn't last very long as it was clear my bewildered old chap was none too amused by any of this.
And then finally, to ensure I had run the entire gauntlet it felt that my cock was being coated in stalk margerine.
And then wanked to completion, possibly some oral attention in there a bit but fuck me I was just now like, "please come quickly, and get me out of this Mad Adams Family House!"
Surprisingly came, not as quick as the Thing was hoping for and they tossed me through a wet wipe.
I scooped off as much as the stalk margarine stuff off my cock as I could and sort of staggered into the bathroom feeling like I was part of some Francis Bacon homage by David Lynch.
Wasn't sure what the fuck to do in the bathroom...Other than get some counselling, possibly.
I sort of staggered away in horror like the James Stewart in the last few frames from Vertigo ....
Perhaps the experience cured me of something, I don't know.
What the fuck happened in there - can anyone reading this tell me?
And what have I rated it 3/10 for?
If it was a piece of art house gothic comedy schlock cinema ...maybe I'd have given it 8/10 or something??
Topic: Glory Hole Slut - Crawley Tour (Read 8735 times)
