Pompal 09.
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- Feb 9, 2011
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To steer clear of monogamy's wasteland I seek out non-relationship sex whenever time, money and mood favorably align...like Wednesday night, about 7 PM.
Angel's jovial manager welcomes me with a grin: "Long time no see."
"Busy tonight?" I ask. "No, totally dead," he admits. "It's the economy."
Well—it sure isn't the girls. There're five in the line-up, all of them twenty-something-looking and, to my eros-charged mind, embodiments of fuckability. I like Connie's wicked radiance. The manager goes to tell her my choice, but returns to inform me, "Connie has her period."
Wow, I'm thinking, this girl must be needing money badly to work even during her period. Giving Tantalizer a bloodbath isn't exactly a big fetish of mine. "Well then," I say, randomly throwing out a name I remember, "send me Maggie." I hand the manager $.4 for the 45-min all-inclusive.
I set up the CD player with Teresa Teng songs. During my shower Maggie comes in and asks in surprise why I'm playing Chinese music. I tell her, in Mandarin, that I love Teng LiJun, and she says she does too. We dance and sing along together to some popular old Chinese songs while fondling each other in a standing position.
Maggie is a young-looking 27, from Shenyang in Northern China, with a cute face, a tallish, slender figure, and smallish perky breasts. She might be eye-catching if she wore make-up. Her skin looks rather sallow, as if she spent too much time indoors. Maggie has a sweet voice, but I notice early on something subdued in her demeanor—she's clearly not brimming over with energy or enthusiasm.
I ask if she's here on a student visa. She says no, she immigrated five years ago. Good, I'm thinking, she's obviously not a trafficked sex slave! "Haven't seen you here at Angel before," I say. She claims she's new in this job. "You're sexy," I say, "I'm glad I chose you." I'm startled by her reply: "Yes, I'm the best here at Angel," she says.
Stretching out on the massage table we do a bit of light kissing. She willingly lets me wrap her hand around Tantalizer. But her squeeze technique is non-existent; maybe she's really new at this. I squirt lube on her trimmed cooch and have her stroke it. While readying myself for action I bend down for a bit of DATY—she's cooperative and nice-tasting.
I start pumping her gently in MISH. Eyes closed, motionless, she lets it happen dead-fish style, with barely a moan. I ask her to look at me—which she does, momentarily, before averting her head again. No matter; my cock feels good anyway, wedged inside tight Asian pussy.
When I ask her to get on top I'm becoming convinced she told the truth about being new because her CG is the typically sluggish, badly angled attempt of a beginner. Only after prodding on my part does she crouch up for ACG, but she never develops rhythm and gives up after a short while. I maneuver her into regular CG, with her thighs nicely squeezed together.
Then on to doggie and lazy doggie. I enjoy her flawless round ass slapping softly against my abdomen while I drive Tantalizer deep into her. On the verge of orgasm I replace the Trojan with a Lifestyle and ask her to kneel over me for a BJ. She readily launches into lively sucking while simultaneously squeezing the lower shaft with her hand, but here again, her endurance peters out after a few minutes.
I pound her some more in mish and, for good measure, lift her legs high behind my back and slide my cock into her in reverse mish. She's a good sport. I like the view of two juicy orifices.
Rather than going back to regular mish I ask her to make me come in CG. She climbs on top, but before inserting my cock, she looks at it and notices liquid inside the condom—a mix of pre-cum and lube whipped into a whitish foam. "But you already came!" she exclaims, as if her job was now done. An awkward moment; I feel anger rising in me at the prospect of being left hanging high and dry. How to explain myself to her? "Maybe I came a little bit," I say, "but look—I know myself, and let me assure you, I didn't have a real orgasm yet."
She looks doubtful, but intimidated by a certain sharpness in my voice. "Whatever," she says, "I don't know men." I tell her to forget about CG and just lie down flat on her back. Another quick condom change and a few minutes of vigorous pounding, and I blow my load.
We disengage quickly after my release. She cleans me, collects the used condoms in tissue paper and leaves.
I shower and dress. We have about 15 min left when Maggie returns with a cup of water. I ask her to sit down for a chat, but her lack of interest is palpable.
"You don't hate men, do you?" I ask.
"I don't know you, so how can I like you?" Maggie responds irritably. I try to explain that my question wasn't about her feelings toward me but about whether her general attitude toward this job is positive or negative. "It's just for the money," she says.
"You have a computer?" I ask. She nods yes. "Ever look up the reviews that guys write about massage girls like you?" I ask.
"I'm not interested what men write about making sex with other women," she says, annoyed. "I do it my own way."
I'm tempted to suggest that her own way isn't yet very good, that she might learn something from reviews, and that getting flattering reviews might be to her economic benefit—but I decide there's no point. She's obviously not the reflective type, the type of Chinese immigrant eager to avail herself of every educational opportunity.
I give Maggie a farewell hug and a .2 tip. Given the sparks of antagonism between us, she seems genuinely surprised. "Oh thank you," she says. "And thank you for choosing me. See you again."
Maggie's service, though uninspired, was not rushed or restrictive. Her honesty partly compensated for lacking skill and energy. It remains to be seen whether she's cut out for this job. For me, clearly not a repeat. L=8, A=6, S=7
Angel's jovial manager welcomes me with a grin: "Long time no see."
"Busy tonight?" I ask. "No, totally dead," he admits. "It's the economy."
Well—it sure isn't the girls. There're five in the line-up, all of them twenty-something-looking and, to my eros-charged mind, embodiments of fuckability. I like Connie's wicked radiance. The manager goes to tell her my choice, but returns to inform me, "Connie has her period."
Wow, I'm thinking, this girl must be needing money badly to work even during her period. Giving Tantalizer a bloodbath isn't exactly a big fetish of mine. "Well then," I say, randomly throwing out a name I remember, "send me Maggie." I hand the manager $.4 for the 45-min all-inclusive.
I set up the CD player with Teresa Teng songs. During my shower Maggie comes in and asks in surprise why I'm playing Chinese music. I tell her, in Mandarin, that I love Teng LiJun, and she says she does too. We dance and sing along together to some popular old Chinese songs while fondling each other in a standing position.
Maggie is a young-looking 27, from Shenyang in Northern China, with a cute face, a tallish, slender figure, and smallish perky breasts. She might be eye-catching if she wore make-up. Her skin looks rather sallow, as if she spent too much time indoors. Maggie has a sweet voice, but I notice early on something subdued in her demeanor—she's clearly not brimming over with energy or enthusiasm.
I ask if she's here on a student visa. She says no, she immigrated five years ago. Good, I'm thinking, she's obviously not a trafficked sex slave! "Haven't seen you here at Angel before," I say. She claims she's new in this job. "You're sexy," I say, "I'm glad I chose you." I'm startled by her reply: "Yes, I'm the best here at Angel," she says.
Stretching out on the massage table we do a bit of light kissing. She willingly lets me wrap her hand around Tantalizer. But her squeeze technique is non-existent; maybe she's really new at this. I squirt lube on her trimmed cooch and have her stroke it. While readying myself for action I bend down for a bit of DATY—she's cooperative and nice-tasting.
I start pumping her gently in MISH. Eyes closed, motionless, she lets it happen dead-fish style, with barely a moan. I ask her to look at me—which she does, momentarily, before averting her head again. No matter; my cock feels good anyway, wedged inside tight Asian pussy.
When I ask her to get on top I'm becoming convinced she told the truth about being new because her CG is the typically sluggish, badly angled attempt of a beginner. Only after prodding on my part does she crouch up for ACG, but she never develops rhythm and gives up after a short while. I maneuver her into regular CG, with her thighs nicely squeezed together.
Then on to doggie and lazy doggie. I enjoy her flawless round ass slapping softly against my abdomen while I drive Tantalizer deep into her. On the verge of orgasm I replace the Trojan with a Lifestyle and ask her to kneel over me for a BJ. She readily launches into lively sucking while simultaneously squeezing the lower shaft with her hand, but here again, her endurance peters out after a few minutes.
I pound her some more in mish and, for good measure, lift her legs high behind my back and slide my cock into her in reverse mish. She's a good sport. I like the view of two juicy orifices.
Rather than going back to regular mish I ask her to make me come in CG. She climbs on top, but before inserting my cock, she looks at it and notices liquid inside the condom—a mix of pre-cum and lube whipped into a whitish foam. "But you already came!" she exclaims, as if her job was now done. An awkward moment; I feel anger rising in me at the prospect of being left hanging high and dry. How to explain myself to her? "Maybe I came a little bit," I say, "but look—I know myself, and let me assure you, I didn't have a real orgasm yet."
She looks doubtful, but intimidated by a certain sharpness in my voice. "Whatever," she says, "I don't know men." I tell her to forget about CG and just lie down flat on her back. Another quick condom change and a few minutes of vigorous pounding, and I blow my load.
We disengage quickly after my release. She cleans me, collects the used condoms in tissue paper and leaves.
I shower and dress. We have about 15 min left when Maggie returns with a cup of water. I ask her to sit down for a chat, but her lack of interest is palpable.
"You don't hate men, do you?" I ask.
"I don't know you, so how can I like you?" Maggie responds irritably. I try to explain that my question wasn't about her feelings toward me but about whether her general attitude toward this job is positive or negative. "It's just for the money," she says.
"You have a computer?" I ask. She nods yes. "Ever look up the reviews that guys write about massage girls like you?" I ask.
"I'm not interested what men write about making sex with other women," she says, annoyed. "I do it my own way."
I'm tempted to suggest that her own way isn't yet very good, that she might learn something from reviews, and that getting flattering reviews might be to her economic benefit—but I decide there's no point. She's obviously not the reflective type, the type of Chinese immigrant eager to avail herself of every educational opportunity.
I give Maggie a farewell hug and a .2 tip. Given the sparks of antagonism between us, she seems genuinely surprised. "Oh thank you," she says. "And thank you for choosing me. See you again."
Maggie's service, though uninspired, was not rushed or restrictive. Her honesty partly compensated for lacking skill and energy. It remains to be seen whether she's cut out for this job. For me, clearly not a repeat. L=8, A=6, S=7