Freya London AKA English Annabelle, Earls Court, London
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External Link/Members OnlyIt was in the early days of 2023 that I woke up, still in my dank stale bedsit, still middle aged and divorced but somehow things seemed brighter, more positive. Christmas and the associated fake bullshit was over. To add some poetry to an otherwise grim existence when I swished open the grubby curtains that usually reveal a view of the other run down 1920s blocks on my estate, sun came streaming through the condensation-soaked window onto my face. Squint and you could almost be in Barcelona, Antibes or Florence. I decided today was going to be my day. I quickly showered and left to have breakfast outside to catch some rays, even though it was cold. Others were reading the Guardian or the Mirror, contemplating the challenges facing humanity. There was only ever going to be one rag that I would be metaphorically thumbing through on a rare positive morning like this – one “printed” in purple ink on my over-priced, oversized, aging smartphone.
A beautiful aspect to this degenerate hobby of ours is that it can complement a win or a loss, brighten up the trough of an otherwise shit week, or be the cherry on the cake when you are riding one of life’s waves of success. But I digress. I wanted to punt somewhere classy, somewhere dare I say upmarket, even above my modest station. I searched in the most central of London’s two Royal Boroughs as I sipped my pretentious cappuccino, the taste of chocolate, foam and coffee being a suitably sensual experience as I perused pictures of naked young ladies, weighing up which one I might pay to penetrate today. Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling, it was quite the selection, and I was undecided until I saw Freya London, aka the famous English Annabella who so spectacularly melted down on our dear forum and was banned, somewhat tarnishing an otherwise stellar reputation amongst us degenerates.
As I read her profile I got more and more into the idea of it, a lovely mixed race, curvy London girl, the kind that I went to school with and then went on to fondle in smokey garage clubs in the late 1990s while wearing Armani, Moschino and London base shoes, surrounded by champagne sipping drug dealers, remembering that epic feeling at 2am when this one would drop and it seemed like you were on top of the world:
External Link/Members OnlyAs I fired off a text I reminiscing about the Gas Club. All good, quick reply, fixed a mutually convenient time at her place near earls court. It’s on a peaceful back street of stucco fronted grand houses, who over the years have mostly downgraded to sleazy hotels, tiny bedsits and prozzie containers. Totally deserted at lunch time, bar a few old ladies nosing out of their windows and some monied wankers parking up their Chelsea tractors. Nothing to worry about, the transience and flow of humanity in these parts of means no one is going to notice you, and if they do they wont care.
I was buzzed up, building had a lift, fucking result! I hate getting up multiple floors of these period places already out of steam. Classic hide behind the door move, and I am into her sunny, pleasant apartment. I am initially shocked as she is taller than I expected, but I then remember this being mentioned on previous reviews and is an over sight on my part and clearly not her fault for being tall!
I was cheerfully relieved of £120 for 30 minutes. She was very friendly, nice, kind, accommodating. Her accent was a bit more Essex than I had expected, but again, its my expectations and not her “fault” at all. Offered shower, plenty of towels, selection of shower gels, offered me a soft drink. I cannot fault her professionalism nor her service from the outset, she is lovely.
After a quick cock wash (I had showered at home) I was back into the room to the glorious sight of her on the bed, long legs, dark eyes, soft hair, caramel skin, phat ass and big silicone tits. She had put some RnB on the TV, some one hit wonder was crooning on about making sweet love to some imaginary skank. She must either have great taste in music or read me like a book as barely house trained hood rat as this really had me going. With the sun streaming in and the music playing, I felt like I was back at university with a long lost ghetto ex who like me was revelling in Blairite social mobility and also like me had clawed her way into a degree course. I probably should have married her, she now has a profession, a kid and a big fuck off house in the home counties while I am still in the “endz” complaining about kids smoking weed in the hallway. But like the cunt that I am I had got above myself, got big ideas and dumped her to go travelling and she never forgave me.
We all live, but some of us don’t learn quickly enough.
I was looking forward to this, to getting my hands on her and tasting her. I got onto the bed, we fondled, kissed, stroked, like fuck buddies getting re-acquainted after too long apart. I took great joy in freeing her cans and she moved on top of me and put them in my face to lick and suck and enjoy. She kissed me some more, kissed down my chest and I took a sharp breath, knowing what was about to come. Her owo was stop rate, slow, sensual, slopped. This girl is no stranger to pleasuring men, and her fellatio skills showed this. She was in no rush to stop and carried on for a good while before stopping for some air, and I motioned her to come up for more kissing and I could taste my pre-cum on her tongue. This was getting very horny and she fondled me as we kissed and I groped her tits. She wanted to go back down and I was not going to stop her, it was divine, playing with my balls. I asked for 69 and she obliged, putting her pussy down on my face, it was delightful, warm, wet, and tasty, almost fruity. I lapped away and could have stayed there for hours servicing her well used love box. She asked if I wanted to fuck and of course I did! Condom on, we went into mish so I could look her to eyes and kiss that delightful mouth, she flicked her tongue against mine, in between making soft moans as I pumped in and out of her. However good this was, I wanted more oral, which she was happy to give, although asked me not to CIM which while I love, as a tranny cock sucker I fully understand how a sudden, unpleasant, big load of bollock snot can be unpleasant. As I got close I wanted to kiss her again, she came back up and finished me with a beautiful handjob and I shot gallons.
Her pillow talk is actually pretty good once you get past the TOWIE accent, and we had a decent chat while I tried to pull myself together. She at no point rushed me or seemed remotely bothered by me in her personal space which was a nice welcome touch after so many times feeling like I was intruding after nutting when the girl starts rummaging around for wipes, checking her phone and giving you side eye. I was up, cock once again washed, and back out into a polar, sunny London town with a smile on my face and some great memories.
Would I return?
This is tough. Despite an excellent experience and the top-notch service I am not sure, and I can’t put my finger on my hesitance to return. Either way, in a city of machete wielding plastic gangsters, burnt out moody whores and monied wankers, “Freya” is commendably un-jaded and delivers a knock out, sensual and dirty shag, even better than my uni ex that used to fuck like a rocket, but sadly got away…
Topic: Freya London AKA English Annabelle, Earls Court, London (Read 3633 times)