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External Link/Members OnlyI didn't expect to be punting tonight, especially after a few beers. Drunken punting is not ideal. I know that now. Still, this was an experience I'll not forget. In my drunken state I called up a a certain "masseuse" I met a few weeks back and headed over to Lancaster Gate for my appointment.
Emerging from the tube station I feel my punting phone buzz in my pocket. Her address I expect. But no, it's a cancellation. An apology followed by an alternative. Would I see another girl instead. I call the number from which the text came and there's no answer. Time for my plan B. Except I don't have a plan B. Time to scour adultwork. Oh dear, this is not going to end well. I call several girls I like the look of, in the area. And Bayswater is the area. The seedy shit-hole I swore I wouldn't punt in again. A place for tourists seeking cheap accommodation in the shitty B&Bs and dated hotels. A couple of the girls answer. I'm double-booking. Aware that I'm unlikely to get a real booking - last minute on a Friday night in London. It usually ends in failure. But what's this. A girl I recognise in the search hits on adultwork. That's right - I've met her once before - when she was in Aldgate East - a year ago. Back then I wasn't actually punting. Not properly - she gave me a massage and oral only - at my request. We had some unfinished business. I'm calling her now and I hoped that she would pick up - she did. I'm booked in for 10 minutes from now. How the fuck do I get there. The punting phone buzzes once more to reveal her postcode. I'm running now, through the streets of West London, past all the tourists, past all the revellers. They don't know what I'm up to. I'm about to have a much better evening than them. I approach the street of the seedy hotel. It's like the scene from Notting Hill with Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts - a private garden that's locked to keep out the riff-raff surrounded by white-fronted stone buildings. Except I won't be climbing over the iron railings, nor crying whoopsie daisies.
So here I am. I text the girl again for the room number. Her room's on the second floor. I know how this works. Always scope out the lobby from outside. Wandering in to reception and gazing around for the stairs or lift is just going to attract unwanted attention. I walk in there like I belong. Opening the shitty brass-handled doors that perhaps looked swish thirty years ago, but now in their corroded state, looked dated and tired like the rest of the place. Not that I stop to notice much - I'm straight in, and up to the lifts, I hit the button for the floor I need. Once I reach her floor I step out. I locate her room and according to the door signage it's a suite? I knock on the door and it clacks ajar. There she is - Vanessa. Or is it her? She looks a little different to how I remember. But beautiful, young, smelling delicious and oozing sex. If this is a bait and switch then fuck it I'm going ahead anyway - all of my principles vanished after necking that last pint of beer. For the first time ever at the start of a punt, I'm feeling totally relaxed.
£60 paid for 30 minutes. Vanessa is undressing now as I am. OK, it's definitely the girl I saw before. I distinctly remember that mole above her left breast and her c-section scar. It's no bait and switch. Just that she's changed a bit since I last saw her, since her pics were taken. Her hair is a bit shorter - more styled. She seems more confident, her English is better. She's bright-eyed and smiling - I've discovered that's really important to me. I hate it when I'm greeted by a WG with bags under her eyes and a vacant gaze. So far so good. What follows is 30 minutes of sex where I struggle to overcome my brewer's droop, yet somehow we manage. She's enthusiastic and does everything I ask. Except that she doesn't kiss. But I can't fault her for that. Can't mark her down as she doesn't list kissing amongst her likes. What you see is what you get with her. A fantastic figure - lovely legs and boobs. We have sex in a few different positions. She's so lovely and tight. She gives me oral (covered, but that's OK with me) whilst I'm playing with her pussy. I find it difficult to cum whilst fucking her, so she tosses me off until I cum. Can I jizz on her tits? Unfortunately not. She doesn't rush me though, and eventually I do finish. I've had at least the time I've paid for.
I've had two punts this week. One was a great GFE with a lovely girl in a very nice flat - lots of kissing and cuddling. Tonight was a drunken encounter with a girl offering a much more limited service, in a seedy shit-hole of a hotel, yet the latter was more enjoyable. An experience I will remember for longer I think. At the end of our session I remind her it's not the first time we've met. "I saw you a year ago in Aldgate". "Yes I remember you", her reply. Yeah, like fuck!
I might pay her a third visit, if only to go back and nail her properly when sober. There's just something about young Romanian girls that I really like - no matter what the risk is of getting a shit service from most of them - when you meet one that's hot - it's awesome. This one won't be for everyone since she's quite restrictive in what she's offering but she certainly did the job for me