External Link/Members OnlyI woke up one morning feeling marvelous. Andrew Marvelous.
Bethought me then of the not so coy mistresses at one of my favourite bawdy houses and their various beautiful breasts, small and rounded and heavier fulsome pendants and their wet willing cunts as they lay on their backs, legs apart, smiling up at me and as ‘My vegetable love began to grow’ as big as Marvels I would warrant, I saddled up ‘Time’s wingèd chariot’ and flew forth over the hovels, country houses and green gardens of Leicestershire.
Back in the 1600s, before the comic series named after him, Marvel, a prominent man of letters and an MP, wrote of his desperation to fuck his mistress. He bangs on all the time about ‘all my lust’ but his dreams of penetration and ejaculation are unfulfilled as she frustrates him in order to safeguard ‘That Long-preserved virginity’. What was a poor chap to do? He wants to sport ‘while we may’, like ‘amorous birds of prey’. He pleads for the rough stuff.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life’.
Looking forward to some rough strife myself but with only half an hour to spare, not an eternity like poor Andy, I parked my chariot.
My roundhead (Marvel was for parliament and not the king) was up for sucking in a not cavalier fashion.
I have visited Victoria House many time over the years and never been disappointed. Until this visit a few weeks ago. Brooklyn is in the wrong job. She did not bother to conceal her lack of interest in providing a service. We started with a long light touch boring back massage. Then I turned over and she started to stroke my cock and to give me oral with (by that time I decided to save myself the ten pounds for owo.) She kept her dress on, so I could not see her body and she positioned herself in such a way that I could not touch her. When I tried to move forward she moved back. When I asked her to mount me she did finally undress to reveal a trim body and large breasts but the total lack of communication, eye contact, enthusiasm and encouragement had destroyed my vegetable love which wilted; a radish rather than a cucumber.
I know how Andy Marvel felt but this was not coyness so much as indifference. There was nothing lustful or erotic about this performance. I have been enough times for the receptionists to know me, so I complained at length to them for the first time about the lacklustre service. I paid fifty pounds on top of the door fee and left.