Selina - Roseberry, London
A few days ago, I embarked on another adventure in relaxation, or so I hoped. Upon arrival, I was introduced to Selina, a new face at Roseberry, paid £50 cash for an hour of bliss.
Selina, I must say, broke the mold of my previous experiences: a plain-looking Chinese woman, roughly 30, with a physique so slender it made the fens look hilly, a chest that seemed to have missed the memo on "curves," hair efficiently bunched up, and glasses perched just so. She looked less like a masseuse and more like she was about to shush me for talking in the library. Her English, however, was surprisingly good, and she informed me she'd been here for nine years, having apparently mastered the art of working in "various other shops."
The massage commenced, and I quickly realised Selina's technique was... unique. It was less a skilled manipulation of muscles and more akin to someone vigorously cleaning a window, only with my back as the pane and an alarming amount of oil as the Windowlene. Sensual caresses or any CC swipes were missing, but about 20 minutes to the end she started those fluttery ticklish touches and I was asked to turn. B2B offered for a mere £60.
Off came her clothes, revealing a body that confirmed my initial assessment: slender, flat-chested, flat-stomached, with nipples that seemed to be on permanent vacation. Her pussy, though shaved, sported a rather rebellious stubble, and her hips were the only evidence of any curves
A few rather awkward body slides ensued, and she valiantly attempted to rub her non-existent boobs against my cock. I even attempted to coax some life out of her nipples, but they remained as unresponsive as my teenager when asked to clean their room. My hands, ever adventurous, ventured south only to be met with a swift flinch. I inquired if I might be permitted to touch, the answer came decisively: And just like that, my dreams of favourite touches and ideas of RO evaporated faster than water on a hot griddle. To be perfectly honest, at that point, my interest went on a permanent coffee break. She tried her best with a hand job, but the magic simply wasn't happening. A quick shower to wash off what felt like several gallons of oil, and I made a disappointing exit.
