Bedroom Eyes Escorts - November 2017 - Emma (ACT Tour)

[John Sköld]

{BLUF}

 

Bottom. Line. Up. Front.

 

The BLUF worked well enough for my most recently posted escort session – or at least no-one complained – so I thought I would retain it for those time-poor readers. And for me, since also being time-poor, I’m not sure how much more will follow it.

 

Certainly not War & Peace this time, no matter how deserving. Nor poetry, something simply beyond me. But not due to anything lacking, a deficit of inspiration. Of that latter there is a surplus. Finding the words is the challenge, and not because I find myself in the centre of a negative review minefield. How do you capture an intense, fantastic two-hours that seemed to pass in one? How do you even start unpicking the jumbled threads? How much detail? Both detail to include in a review, and indeed detail retained at all in the goldfish memory banks? There was a flow to the session, a welcome deviation to my usual routine. We arrived at the same place as one would hope for. And it felt unscripted on both sides – hence the welcome deviation. Suggestions, acceptance, compromise – all so smooth.

 

Dare I say…mutual, almost? Like it was…real? Or could have been? With a fantastic partner. If we were in a different realm, just one apartment over, or above, or below?

 

Anyway, a lot of the elements were still there. The flow wasn’t flawless. Unavoidable interruptions occurred; added to my own general goofiness that Emma accepted with aplomb. But we’d previously addressed here that this wasn’t the Olympic diving finals; human factors in myriad ways can get in the way, often from outside the room. Whether those interruptions derail proceedings or not is the measure.

 

…And in this case, I didn’t feel even a ripple. Emma is a special young lady.

 

Belated BLUF: A fantastic escape with a truly lovely young woman. Skilled, confident, sexy, passionate, humble, and warmly accommodating. A little naughty and mischievous, also – in a way I adored. In ‘the’ way I adore. Emma was fantastic, beginning to end. After a hectic month, this session was the balm – and the cardio – I’d needed.

 

“Kiss me; Eat me; Fuck me; Thrill me*”

 

From the compilation-quasi-quote (& mangled U2 song title) above it could be interpreted that Emma was a demanding shrew during this session. Nothing could be further from the truth. She was an absolute pleasure to share this time with, and a true delight to share pleasures with.

 

If I could, I’d be enjoying an extended return booking right now, hours/days after the first. Impractical – and unaffordable for me – but the desire is definitely there, as it rarely has been. If our paths cross again, I’ll try to transform that desire – for a simple return booking of 1-3 hours – into reality. Though an overnight holds strong appeal, in a way it almost never has. [Note to self: Put in Lotto ticket].

 

It felt mutual, as we rolled around the bed, giving and receiving. Like only my best few sessions have. Emma seemed as into what I was doing to her, as I was into what she was doing to me. As eager to give as to receive, the energy rebounding and redoubling as we shared this opening act.

 

…And her beautiful warm smile! Those mischievous bluish eyes! A cheeky glimmer in both at key moments.

 

 

I didn’t believe I was spellbound, at the time; but I may have been, nonetheless. How else to explain the missing hour? I certainly could not have lasted nearly two hours with this sensual blonde angel; in my lap, under my tongue, me under her lips, above her, underneath, over, and behind. The time had to go somewhere. Days later, muscles still ached more than they would from an hour session – even an intense one. Ache in places I can’t explain, and have never felt aches in my life.

 

Further investigation into this time-displacement anomaly is required. For a decent baseline, multiple repeat treatments of varying duration may be necessary.

 

And I already have an idea for how to open the second act, not quite a role play – they aren’t my thing usually – but rather a starting scenario, conjured from a conversation we had…

 

…Something I’ve only ever written about, in fiction, and never hoped to actually experience. Something very hot (and not at all squicky). With the right partner.

 

If it happens.

 

 

{Review Preamble, aka intermission between the top shelf stuff & the watered down stuff}

 

‘…It was a real pleasure to spend this time with Emma; and I’m as certain as can be that also would have been the case for an hour, a day, or a week. There was just a vibe, throughout, which told me it would have been hard to go wrong with this lass. Sweet, accepting, accommodating, generous, and very sensual; and a little cheeky, a little mischievous, in ways I found compelling – and so appealing. A perfect package, for me…’

 

I had no hesitation in trying to line up another BRE session once the tour notification came through. Or popped up. Whatever.

 

Short of time – like everyone – I rarely have the opportunity to do the necessary research as a continuous flood of private touring ladies pass through Canberra. It is enough to give one whiplash. A while back, I’d gone through the BRE line-up and noted names (and the same for ‘private’ operators, too). The flood became a trickle. Then it was just a matter of waiting for tours, and hoping that I didn’t get double-booked. Mostly partaking of parlours these days, there was rarely a conflict. Some missed opportunities with other privates, maybe. Inevitable in this caper, it happened in September and it will recur in December.

 

…The only way to avoid such things is to avoid punting entirely. By whatever name you use for this pursuit.

 

Booked in a month prior, there was a change or two. One big change, and a small one also. That is addressed below. In truth, I think I’ve started muddling my review sections. What started off so clear morphed each time, until now where I am essentially repeating myself and boring the sole reader who may endure these tortured ramblings. But I find it helps in unlocking some memories, and I need every bit of help I can get on that score.

 

 

Biting off review elements into somewhat digestible chunks is really the only way I can approach these things now. Who has days to sit in front of a keyboard – other than a work keyboard – while grinding through the review in chronological order? Not me, not anymore. I type slowly. Fiction can flow from my fingertips (perhaps ‘trickle’ is more accurate), but a review drawing on memories of actual events, is entirely another beast. A drip-feed at best.

 

But I’m not going to write a 1-4 line review. Ironically, I sort-of did, above, in the BLUF. Still, Emma deserves more than 1-4 lines. As does the intrepid reader. With these reviews I try to follow the ‘show, don’t tell’ principle. It isn’t a science, it is the least tangible of arts, and I’m no artist. But I try to capture the qualities I registered in the session – physical, sexual, and maybe even…feelings. Not in the inappropriate way THAT can go, but in the way I felt about the session, the partner, the sex, and everything else.

 

And that takes lines. And time. Lots of time. And lines.

 

But it won’t ever be 100% of the picture. Even if I could remember it all, even if I had no reticence about sharing the most personal conversations and actions from that realm. Not that we transgressed any boundaries. Everything was safe, of course. And professional. Personal, too. Ironically, in this confected realm, honesty is sometimes evident to an extent that outsiders would never imagine possible. I think of the deceptions in real life, lies compounding on some logarithmic scale. This realm has a big conceit at the entrance, but after that the maze of tunnels can lead to so many different places. And I’m forever amazed by the particulars of some of those places I’ve shared.

 

So if my judgement is enough, take the BLUF, take the template fields, and decide for yourself.

 

If it isn’t – if you want to be shown not told (possibly, hopefully) – then read on.

 

There are some images to entertain you as we go.

 

 

{Punting Preamble}

 

‘…Speaking of time. There was no time-displacement anomaly, it simply felt that way in Emma’s timeless realm. I wanted to clarify this before someone took my comments literally. While I stumbled down the street, after, my watch and phone confirmed that Emma’s timepiece had been accurate to within the usual tolerances. It had felt truncated since we hadn’t taken the quickest route between two points, the way you almost have to in a shorter session. Instead, it had been something of a sightseeing tour of the surrounds. We saw a lot. Not enough; but more than a taste, a tease. More than enough to know that further tours will be a high priority if opportunities present…’

 

This session was planned well in advance; and adapted in the days prior.

 

Planned, since I hadn’t wanted to miss a rare BRE-opportunity; and adapted, since life throws curveballs anytime you start to feel too comfortable.

 

While I’d hardly claim the previous month had been in any way comfortable, I had assumed everything would run according to plan in this most benign area. However, given all the inherent variables in play that would be a low probability outcome. Furthermore, to view this caper – with all of its intrinsic vagaries – as the most stable element in one’s forecast should say everything required about the remainder of said forecast.

 

…Standing on/in quicksand is the easiest analogy. Thrashing about, sinking, without a vine or rope in sight. Or a leaf blowing in the wind, for a less ominous metaphor.

 

The tour was adapted and salvaged, Emma subbing in for the planned lady, the transition seamless.

 

Effortless for me, due to Alex’s tireless efforts. And in keeping with that trend from last time: #AlexRocksToo!

 

Plus, Emma’s can-do approach, of course: #EmmaIsBeautifulEverywhere

 

She’s a heart-melting medley, really. Just the elements she let me see.

 

And ironically, Emma was a little concerned I would be disappointed, seeing ‘only’ her and not the lady I had booked a month prior. Hopefully I was able to clarify my situation and thoughts. I didn’t walk into this session with regret or reservation, and surely didn’t walk away with any. One door closed; another equally sought door opened. The equation was balanced. But that remark, and a few others during our session, gave glimpses of her sweetness and considerate nature hidden under her sexy tanned curvy exterior; and that same sweet quality was swirling in those bluish orbs along with mischief and a host of other alluring elements. Humility, too. She didn’t have a conceited bone in her body. At least, I didn’t find one. And these days, they are pretty obvious, even to me.

 

Emma had already been on my list, for much longer, so it wasn’t even a question of ‘would I like to spend time with this woman, instead?’ But rather ‘how much time can I spend with this woman?’ Unlike the first question, this one took me a relative eternity to answer.

 

…Easily a second, perhaps two. Because, in large part, it had already been answered also.

 

 

After I recalled my previous BRE sessions – and reacquainted myself with Emma’s profile – my email answer flew back to Alex. I didn’t want to rush the session. Plus, I’d been good, generally underspending my monthly entertainment budget this year. And I’d missed her twice on previous tours, by days.

 

So unusually for me, I stuck with the plan and went with two hours for this first meeting with Emma. Not a token envelope – and soon to be much thicker when they inevitably outlaw $50/100 notes (for some nebulous reason that won’t hold water, btw) – but worth it I hoped for entrance to this once-a-year event. Worth it, to not be eyeing the clock as the session progressed – if it progressed as I’d hoped it would. There was a risk of course, a risk I’m not usually willing to accept – an initial hour, at current rates, being my limit. But my track record with BRE was excellent, and I had reason to believe this session would only add to that. A trusted reviewer or three here at PP had given Emma a big thumbs up, there were more than a few positive reviews/comments, and Alex had sung her praises.

 

…Plus, just look at her images!

 

 

Finally, I knew Emma had been around for a while. Not in the way that my words probably came across just now. But in the sense that Emma likely knew what she was doing, knew how to manage the flow of a booking without any apparent effort, and hopefully had the kinds of skills – and personality – that would keep me coming back. Sometimes, with a newer lady, some of those elements – some finesse – is absent, and the session can lack a degree of polish even if the raw skills are there. I don’t mind the lack of polish, but I would be reluctant to book in for more than an hour in such a situation. Sometimes you discover someone really worthwhile; and other times an hour seems like a very long time.

 

So after the weeks ground by, as personal and professional challenges were met and overcome, this long awaited session drew close. Winter passed, and then kinda returned, almost: #CanberrasColdOrReallyHotAlways! #SometimesOnTheSameDay!

 

And it drew close after a respite from the coal dust and MS Office, after sufficient time to chill and savour recent victories – or to relish the fact there was only a final dash to the finish line at least. 2017 has been a long hard slog. Like a Marathon, through a tunnel, filled with booby-traps. Like the final Hunger Games, unarmed but for a mouse and keyboard.

 

I was a little nervous. Would Emma be as lovely as she seemed in those images? What of her face – always so hard to extrapolate from those blurred data points? Was the profile content accurate? Was she even aware of the profile content? Was GVV right after all? But only a little nervous, really.

 

Long ago, I think I read that there is some feature of the brain, it scrubs certain facets of memories, makes them seem less forbidding, the fear or terror less acute in hindsight – particularly when the past outcome was very positive. Like a self-wiring circuit, once established – by whatever convoluted path it took – the elements reconfigure and congeal along the most efficient path. It only makes sense, for an intelligent efficient adaptive machine.

 

Besides, how else would we have evolved? Recalling every facet of the trials you ran yesterday, while knowing they had to be run again that day or you would die. They survived. Though they might have still been a little nervous, upon setting out each day. With a stick. Or a rock.

 

This wasn’t about survival. It wasn’t combat. This was fun, of the purest kind.

 

It was merely the fleeting nerves when you know you’ll be meeting and (hopefully) having sex with someone you’ve never met. Evolution can only take us so far. And the setting, the flow, is hardly natural in this gambit. Where on the curve will it fall? Hundreds of data points over decades – some so real I thought they were, and some so fake I wanted to flee.

 

…With many at or around the middle, as ever. Though more great than bad sessions of late. By a huge margin.

 

And I’ve come to accept that a lady recommended by Alex is very unlikely to disappoint. To accept that even residual nerves aren’t required. Not a guarantee of course; we aren’t robots, yet. Just like how the perfect applicant for a job might be the absolute worst fit for that job. You can only know after. And you can only do your best on the day. When you know your best isn’t possible, those with integrity withdraw from the field, prioritising the long term outcome over the short term losses. On both sides, though the various booby-traps or dead-man switches make a graceful exit more difficult these days. Even an actual personal tragedy isn’t necessarily enough to prise loose the private deposit, for all it mattered back then.

 

…I won’t use the trite expression that ‘you only have one chance to make a first impression’ but it is true. Shooting that bolt, in a sub-optimal setting, doesn’t make any kind of sense to me. Thankfully, others hold the same archaic beliefs.

 

Booking details flowed as you’d expect and hope, a late modification to the start time arriving by email the day prior. A change that made things easier all round. We got to sleep in a little bit. Alas, it was alone; for waking Emma with my tongue would have been a delight, but there is always next time. And Emma wouldn’t have to rush at checkout time.

 

We went to SMS for the communication on the day, and that all flowed without issue.

 

About the biggest pre-session issue was parking. Between the light rail debacle/works and building construction, Northbourne Avenue was a mess. And the ripples flowed back a street or two as parking areas were consumed by construction-related or safety requirements. A shame. One of the best parts of going to Braddon for a session was the plentiful close parking, usually shaded, and not metered on weekends. What good is a 2 hour park when you have a 2+ hour session? Oh well. I need to walk more anyway. And there was just enough time to do exactly that.

 

The hotel/apartment didn’t require a pass key at any point so it was a simple matter to traverse the large lobby, pick an elevator, and ride up (Angelo44, that was for you). Smooth, easy, and quick. A new floor for me, higher, though I can’t speak to the view. My eyes were elsewhere, throughout – in fact I have only a vague recollection of the apartment itself. I like the setup they have there. So much better than some of the other options, with reception next to the sole 19^th Century elevator (not quite, but moving about as slowly as one). This one was quite distant from reception, and discreet.

 

With the late changes to the program I hadn’t even thought to make clothing requests – as I had for the original booking. Actually, I had thought about it. But Emma had shuffled her plans to fill in this weekend, and Alex was probably juggling even more madly than usual. Asking for Emma to wear some particular items from long ago didn’t seem right at that time. And frankly, I like to be surprised sometimes, the lady’s default ensemble occasionally providing early insights into them. Besides, all things going well, I’d have Emma naked soon enough…

 

…As it was, she was ‘almost’ naked far earlier than I could have ever expected. Or hoped. The initial flow different to what I was used to, but so very right. And so sexy!

 

 

It wasn’t like getting hit by a Shinkansen. Quite.

 

Nerves settled, mind at ease, breath freshened – Emma admitted me into her spacious realm.

 

There was a lot to take in. Parts are blurred. I’ll unpick some of it shortly. But for now;

 

A very pretty blonde, medium height. In a black dress, summery; black ankle boots, making her height just right. Golden tanned. That brilliant smile! Those twinkling blue eyes!

 

A welcome kiss. That developed into so much more, so quickly.

 

Glasses discarded. Transition lenses tragically slow to complete their promise. More importantly, glasses unnecessary – and awkward – at point-blank range.

 

My bags also discarded, to the island, possibly. Goofily, too, I’m sure.

 

Whereupon the second tranche of our welcome kiss went from idle to 100 faster than an MB SLK55 AMG.

 

Wow!

 

All in the space of a step. Perhaps two this time. Certainly no more than two.

 

 

{Session starts here}

 

About that kiss…

 

The provider-client welcome kiss varies widely, in my limited experience. Sometimes it is tragically absent, as happened only days before this session. Other times, it might as well be. Given the timing factor, the generally awkward intro phase, it isn’t a cut & dried situation. There is no right answer. Goofy clients like myself hardly assist in reliably hitting this ever-moving target.

 

It can be just right, a teaser of what is about to unfold, woven in so adeptly there isn’t even a ripple as you cross into her realm. It can be perfunctionary. Or anywhere in between those limits, too.

 

…Or it can be equally right, like slipping into a steaming spa overlooking a snow covered mountain, something you lose yourself in immediately. Something you feel with every part of your body – even those not contacted by the water. The transition quick, but not quite like the Shinkansen. Something you don’t want to leave once you’re in.

 

To meet and be kissing passionately within seconds, literally, objectively should be awkward or overwhelming. This was neither. This felt so right to me. Emma leaning against the wall, me leaning into her, our lips meeting, warmth shared. Not alpine, there were no snowflakes caught in her golden blonde tresses, but that sharing of body heat was arousing as could be. Perhaps the passionate kisses contributed also, reached down and woke all of me. I might have cupped her cheek, her side, perhaps both. Maybe neither. Emma gripped me, my flanks or arms? Maybe my hip? Both hips? Pulling me against her? I can’t recall.

 

 

Minty breath. Soft lips. And a questing tongue. Wet kisses. Not slobbering, but not bone-dry. Just right, for me. Lost in them immediately. Happy to stay lost in them forever. Or perhaps longer.

 

I gave a little detail about that kiss because what followed was an intense session for which details are scarce. Hopefully there are enough details about Emma above, of the passionate and mischievous nymph, to give you the idea. I also snapped some mental images during the session, for later.

 

This kiss, led by Emma, made me want to get us naked and on the bed. I wanted, nay needed, to devour this woman – within seconds of meeting her. In every way. And if factors were different, I would have. Again and again.

 

I’m usually fairly cerebral in the beginning, such hunger growing as I learn about the lady. As I admire her up close. Or as I work up my nerve. Slowly. But that is a default setting, merely conditioned responses to this artificial realm, to the increasingly chaotic minefield we have to navigate (too often). And I’m glad Emma mixed the track right from the beginning, glad she showed me something new and exciting. Emma, thank you for opening my eyes: #HerHelloRockedMyWorld!

 

I’ve done the dot point thing before. I won’t try to copy it here. It wasn’t a cookie cutter session so the template was only a guide for this review; the template itself hardly a cookie cutter session, anyway. The calibre about the same, though. The dot points served their purpose then. And the entrance phase above served its purpose now. Overcoming the growing reluctance to share this stuff. So few review. Is it worth the effort? I’ve nothing to prove, not my (lack of) prowess in the bedroom, nor my (less than impressive) physical endowments. Or the writing skills that a full time job keeps me from developing the way I’d love to. The common perception that we review so as to big-note ourselves? From what planet did it hatch, and how can it not die in our atmosphere? We review (or at least I do) to share knowledge, to allow scarce resource allocations in the most intelligent manner possible – in an industry based on smoke and mirrors. I also review kitchen appliances, but not because my blender is bigger than yours.

 

So, back to Emma.

 

She put me at ease right away. Whatever nerves had lingered were banished after that initial whirlwind introduction/kiss. I was struck by her appearance – in a really good way – but also the woman herself, her energy. And that smile. Her height was just right, in those boots [Note to self: share lots of kisses, standing, pressed together, wrapped up, with Emma in heels of some description, maybe pressed back against a wall – next time]. She guided me through to the lounge and the comfortable couch. It was an apartment not a cramped hotel room, for which I was thankful, but it was ultimately academic. We’d have gotten by in a tent without issue. The unflappable Emma would have gotten us through it.

 

We sat close. We chatted, about what I can’t even recall. I do recall it felt easy, it felt so right, it felt…natural. Like she was just a super cool chick I’d known for ages. Who I got to share these most amazing kisses with! Sitting next to this sexy tanned blonde beach babe, admiring her expanses of thigh and hints of cleavage, drawn to those lively bluish orbs and cheeky smile. Her sweet voice. It felt more right than almost any other intro phase I’ve ever had. And there have been a few.

 

Emma’s face was a little different to what my mind had extrapolated based on the blurred images. But not worse, just different, by tiny degrees, in small ways. As explored before, this always happens, and I wasn’t disappointed in the slightest by the reality. The balance of her facial features was very pleasing to me. Had it not been, I wouldn’t have lost myself in her visage nearly as often as I did, sometimes pausing what I was doing so as to absorb her beauty properly. So there is the proof.

 

Since the flow is about to be broken anyway, I figure here is a good point to run with the little stand-alone snippets. A few scattered elements linger in the memory banks, and I’ll try to capture some of them, to paint a partial picture of this lady. Each might be longer than my ‘norm’ since a brief poetic sentence can’t contain all the things I wish to get down in print, each snippet becoming a paragraph, time too short to artfully sculpt each. Study beckoning. Skill insufficient.

 

‘…On the couch, dressed. Both of us. Chatting freely. Smoothly. Early judgement: This sexy lady is lovely; and how amazing are these kisses! Follow up thought: This is easy; and there is no minefield, thank God! Kisses interspersing conversation, lips just right, Emma either reading me or scoring a bullseye with her shot in the dark. But then, could anyone NOT love these kisses? Maybe, maybe not. I adored them, beginning to end. Lips just right, tongue in tune; more than mechanics though, there was heat! Hunger! I felt like Emma wanted to devour me each time we kissed; her energy and hunger fuelling mine, rebounding, redoubling, for the rest of the session...’

 

‘…Until I could barely stand, leaving the bed for the last time…’

 

‘…Fingertips tracing her knee, her thigh, golden and silky and warm. Her black dress exposing large expanses of those legs, the dress relatively light and loose, a fact appreciated and soon to be relevant. Hints of her cleavage as she leaned in and we kissed, as I panted between kisses, admiring her pretty face from up close. Something I’d do again and again through the session, sometimes pausing what I was meant to be doing as I took in those bluish orbs, tracing the colours, watching the wicked gleam birthed as lips mirrored them...’

 

‘…A delightfully communicative woman. Words. Expressions. How she moved her body. Everything…’

 

‘…Some of the angles while side on not ideal, difficulty cupping her cheek at least once, aligning lips. Contortions making me feel more goofy than usual, though also kind of fun, exploring what was possible. Eventual solution? “Would you like to straddle my lap?” Cue naughty-cheeky grin; trigger twinkle in bottomless blue eyes…’

 

‘…Like at a long-forgotten strip club. Wallet discarded. Running the angles, coffee table far enough away. Carefully guiding Emma on top, ankle boots clear of table as hoped. Summery dress billowing out as she straddled me and got comfortable. Alas, her lips almost out of reach, her torso longer than I’d allowed for – the last time in that position having been with a petite platinum blonde sprite. But still able to kiss, if she craned down a little – an unusual angle for me. Emma craned; kisses resumed…’

 

‘…Emma’s warm weight pressing down on my thighs, my hands aligned and free to explore. The lady, looking all sexy there above me. Can’t recall what my hands did, exactly. Cupped her face? Gripped her waist? Traced along and exposed expanses of her thighs? Ghosted across her covered breasts as they stood out proudly? Possibly all of the above, at various times, and in a random sequence…’

 

‘…About those breasts? Emma’s dress possibly going missing – maybe even into that time-displacement vortex – or allowed to fall to her waist. I think it was the former, since I recall it was my first good view of her black lacy panties. Like a fancily wrapped Christmas present. Either way it was sudden. And sexy. Unexpected, as I was coming to expect…’

 

‘…There were kisses, interspersing elements. In fact, unless otherwise mentioned assume there were kisses interspersing almost every act at every stage – it will be easier and quicker for us all. They were a true highlight for me; but there were so many highlights, peeling Emma’s layers – unexpected layers – being some of my favourites. Between those kisses I had the chance to admire Emma’s breasts through her black bra, lacy and scant. Nipples apparent through the gauzy material. And so sexy. Not just her nipples, or her areolae, but the whole package that was Emma. And her breasts in particular, at that moment…’

 

‘…Her bra followed the dress, possibly to the coffee table, possibly to the couch beside us. Either way, her breasts were revealed, within reach. I…reached. Now, there isn’t a ‘perfect’ breast, for me. Like so many things, it is situational. But I truly adored Emma’s breasts; their shape, size, feel, her nipples, her areolae, even her Glands of Montgomery. And the relative proportions, the balance when set against her torso, her overall height and form. If there was some Golden Ratio for Emma’s body then her breasts neatly aligned with it. I wouldn’t have changed a thing. My only regret is I didn’t pay them nearly enough attention, didn’t explore their supple form and shape, and failed to savour the perfect handfuls that they are…’

 

‘…Note to self: Don’t neglect Emma’s breasts so much next time, Doofus! If there is a next time. Seriously, how hard is it to escape to Sydney for a weekend?...’

 

 

‘…In any case, this dynamo of a woman was in my lap clad only in her panties (& boots). There was a lot to admire, and it had all happened so suddenly. So suddenly that I only gradually realised there was something scrubbed from her images online. A tattoo, one that couldn’t be missed even without my glasses, one of several I discovered as the session progressed. Not something I’d expected, or something that bothered me at all. I enjoyed exploring Emma’s body, enjoyed observing her artwork up close, and I think I found all of them, eventually. While dressed, there was no sign, or I missed them. I think Emma would be quite adept at concealing them when necessary…’

 

‘…As with the tattoo on Emma’s profile images, there is some blurring here. We went from the couch, with Emma straddling me in just panties, to the bathroom. During or before that, we also went through some goodies. In fact, we might have done so before hitting the couch. My money is on after, the whirlwind was too intense – too energetic – for such deliberate action at the beginning…’

 

‘…Things got…heated…on the couch. There was a reference to the shower. Followed by kisses. Then another, by one or the other. And more kisses. Rinse, repeat. It was like Emma had cast a spell on me, after all! Like I couldn’t move; didn’t want to ever move again. Yet the delays seemed mutual, at the time, and in my memories. I might be imagining it, but Emma seemed into the kisses, at times, like she didn’t want them to stop, either. Like she resented the necessity of the shower as much as I did. Couldn’t be possible of course, but words shared between kisses gave that impression. Emma was a great actress that day, every bit the equal of her agency sisters I’d spent time with. Thinking we had plenty of time, not realising we didn’t, I delayed, explored Emma’s body, and continued with those kisses. Frankly, two hours of that, on the couch, would have been sublime all on its own…’

 

‘…And what followed the couch and shower wasn’t a disappointment after that epic start to this session…’

 

‘…Whenever it happened, we broke the tractor beam that had us fused to that couch, and I showed Emma the toy I’d brought along, a gift to share – and for her to keep. She seemed to appreciate the gesture – and based on her reactions, later, I have no reason for doubt. Note to self: That toy seems very popular; write a review on it also? Somewhere along the way, the bra went back on, probably as we rose from the couch. Perhaps immediately before? That little couch scene, disjointed as my narration made it seem, was fantastic. It loosened memories of lap dances from bronzed blonde BrizVegas babes long ago, of things I would have loved to have been able to do back then. What made it better was knowing where things were going, that the sexy nymph who was almost naked in my lap would be naked soon enough. As would I. On the bed, exploring. Eventually…’

 

‘…If I didn’t explode first…’

 

‘…A shower. Everything in order there, as one would hope. The delay accepted, welcomed, a chance to calm myself after getting heated with Emma on the couch. Minutes later my return to the bedroom from the ensuite, dry, fresh, and ready to resume…’

 

 

‘…Emma near the bed in bra and panties, black, lacy and sexy. The kind I just wanted to tear off before devouring her. Or to kiss her body through before carefully sliding them off or down perfect breasts or hips. Boots discarded, kissing while standing less easy this time. Easy solution? Sitting and sliding onto the bed, with Emma following closely…’

 

‘…More blurring here…’

 

‘…Though I recall grinning my goofy grin at times. Many times…’

 

‘…On my back, on the bed. Emma above me like some lioness, kisses continuing, her mostly bare body contacting mine, warm golden skin drawing my fingertips, silky blonde tresses tickling my skin and hairs…’

 

 

‘…She straddled me, there was some more kissing, her bra discarded, and those perfect breasts were within reach. I may not have reached; but at the very least her hard nipples scribed on my chest as we kissed and Emma writhed…’

 

‘…Then we were both naked, I think – if not it happened pretty soon thereafter. Emma kissed down from my lips, angling her body to the side; as I cast my goofiest grin in her general direction…’

 

‘…It wasn’t the tortuous-OCD-butterfly-kiss-trail, the one that gets stale within the first minute (and three centimetres of progress). Rather, an unscripted array of kisses from my neck to my pelvis – like Emma was eager, also. Emma’s eyes twinkling with something really nice when she gripped her target, some naughty-cheeky thoughts clearly going through her mind…’

 

‘…Note to self: Buy some padded cuffs…’

 

‘…Those teasing eyes cast up regularly as she tended to me, blithely kissing and licking around my pelvis while lightly gripping my shaft, her tongue and lips exploring like we had enough time in hand. Finally taking me into her mouth and showing me what else her tongue could do…’

 

‘…A lot, is the answer. And really, really well!…’

 

‘…Now, I’m not one to go into blow-by-blow details of the sexual stuff. Note to self: Ensure Emma does a LOT more of that oral stuff next time! Her kisses had set the bar pretty high, throughout. The oral assault she delivered on me didn’t disappoint. And it wasn’t a wild outburst. There were layers of finesse in what she did, in how she did them; her wicked tongue, the suction she applied, her scorching eyes as they melted mine and drew ever-goofier grins in reply. And the way she mixed things up, clearly not just following a tired script. And not driving me to the edge too quickly; instead heating me up, but for what was soon to come rather than an immediate eruption. It is a blur – especially at that range without glasses – but I can vividly recall how it felt to have her mouth work me over with heat and finesse. Fantastic is the best word I can find right now. Sublime, too, now that my brain has returned to operational norms…’

 

‘…I didn’t want that stage to end, either. But it had to, or the round would have ended with it. She was just too good at her art, and my stamina isn’t what it should be. For next time, maybe positioned in different configurations to explore what might work even better…’

 

‘…A transition here. While launching into penetration would have been natural after such sublime preparation & lubrication, I had a hunger which had been burning for quite some time. And ‘that’ tiger was irate enough after being bottled up for so long, after catching delicious glimpses of Emma’s sexy body, everywhere…’

 

‘…Would have been natural, in my realm, in any other room in that hotel, anyway. Since what was about to start would have preceded Emma’s accomplished oral on me, it could have flowed nicely, too…’

 

‘…Though in a threesome, even in this realm, options would expand…’

 

 

‘…Emma settled on the bed, a pillow under her ass cheeks. And her head. There were plenty of pillows. And that toy was within reach, possibly already active. I settled in, admiring Emma’s thighs, navel, and surrounds. I’m confident my grin was at its goofiest as I took Emma in from close range, no longer blurry; now, without a doubt, confirmed to be beautiful everywhere…’

 

‘…And every now and then as things developed in that configuration, Emma would look down and I would look up. Her devilish grin, those cheeky glittering eyes, she said so much with those two elements. And with her body language in general. I can only hope that, while my lips were occupied, my eyes communicated a few things in reply. At other times a hand would slowly arc down and digits would link up, tiny tender touches and grips that somehow amplified everything like a megaphone. These peripheral interplays running through what was about to be shared; turning it from a simple line item partaken of, into an experience shared – one I’ll remember for a long time to come…’

 

‘…Such delicate features, enticing; turning overwhelming hunger into something bigger again. That tsunami of energy contained, controlled, and on tap as required. Thighs parted further in welcome. I hesitated. Not knowing Emma, her body, her reactions, I started slow. Around the periphery, a kiss on her pubic bone, possibly one on each labia majora. A long slow lick or two, to gauge her temperature…’

 

‘…Emma was a little more primed than I anticipated…’

 

‘…The toy played a role – probably did the heavy lifting in our time together – but I truly enjoyed my role throughout. Receiving, earlier. Giving, now. Sharing, throughout. Rarely has a session felt more balanced; balance having been the Holy Grail, once. Regardless of such goals or the lack of same, balance discovered still equating to a sublime experience…’

 

‘…Balanced? Check. Sublime? Check…’

 

‘…Emma was warmly receptive to my efforts. And those of the vibrator. Bucking her hips, almost painting a map – but doing so in the best possible way, the way you’d adore for any sexual partner to do it. She made it easy, to the point where I just held still and her undulating muscles and agile body gave her exactly what she needed, the way she needed it. Not for a long time; but I’ll forever remember that element, vividly. The precision of her motions, the stylus she painted with so small yet so expertly scribed against my textured canvas…’

 

‘…Fingers in play, along with the toy…’

 

‘…I don’t claim any great skill. But Emma didn’t seem to mind; seemed as into what she was receiving as I was into giving it. In that other realm, I’d have thought the lady was genuinely enjoying herself, if she reacted half as well as Emma…’

 

‘…Next time – if there is one – I’d like to take her for a slower climb, to learn Emma’s body, what she likes and what she loves. This was fantastic, but the climb was short, and the ride intense…’

 

‘…There was so much to take in…’

 

‘…It wasn’t the only climb with the resilient Emma, and I kept going until it was clear that the lifts were closed. For now…’

 

‘…Eventually she husked, “Kiss me,” in a voice that easily made me grow an inch. Perhaps two…’

 

‘…Cue goofiest grin of the session. Mental Note: Ensure it is a glowing review, about that toy! Final kiss above beautiful kitty. And meeting for another kiss…’

 

‘…Or series thereof, as she wrapped me up. It had been a while without kisses. We made up for that. Everything safe, bodies pressed together as I savoured her warmth and smooth supple skin, her curves, and her possibly-partially-sated visage…’

 

‘…It might have been then, when I got a close look at her eyes, close enough to not be blurry; hopefully not so close as to freak Emma out, as I cursed my failing eyes. Admiring the colours swirling in those bluish cauldrons, her lightly flushed features, and some crazed strands of blonde hair shaken loose. She’d never been more beautiful…’

 

‘…Or maybe it was later, coupled; as I paused, struck by that beauty while above her. Perhaps both…’

 

‘…A quasi-truce. A pause. A suggestion. Eager acceptance…’

 

 

‘…We settled into a side-on 69, at least that is what the mysterious sore muscle tells me. Right side, lower ribcage. Emma, sorry if I crushed part of you under my flabby torso. A forearm? An elbow? Maybe it was just the way I was angled while applying the toy and my tongue on a moving target? It must have been, because your talons – both sets – came into play shortly thereafter. A few times. I remember that part vividly, too…’

 

‘…I haven’t tried the side-on variation very often. Not as a proportion of total experiences in 69. On my back/underneath is the obvious front runner. It takes a lot of trust from the lady to have her underneath my bulk. So I savoured this exploration, worked all of the resources at my disposal as Emma did the same, as she gave me all the access I could have wanted. She wasn’t going overboard with her attentions on me, so I was able to experiment with the toy, fingers, and my tongue. In different combinations and at different points…’

 

‘…I was liking this whole semi-unrushed thing…’

 

‘…My last two hour booking having been a year prior, plus or minus a few days, ironically with another blonde BRE-lass. Another fantastic time…’

 

‘…I just realised that sound effects have been absent from this retelling. There was some music playing off to the side, rock of some description? Not a radio, thankfully. The sounds I focussed on were coming from closer again, and seemed in synch with Emma’s motions while we worked each other over. Her hands, fingers, rippling muscles, sounds, like she was channelling the music in a dozen different ways. Or something…something really hot…’

 

‘…Emma truly seemed to like the toy, panting out something about it, before we tried to reconfigure. Somewhat entwined, it took a while. Probably because I would have kept kissing if at all possible. Maybe even if it wasn’t…’

 

‘…Then it was time for something else that was new to me. Having sex, as a supporting actor to the leading toy…’

 

 

‘…Earlier hunger temporarily sated, a different kind of need was asserting itself. We prepped me and slid together in missionary. Not glacial. Not frigid at all. Hot and tight and wet. And so good! So warmly received! The quasi-glacial slide was to savour this long awaited coupling. And to allow Emma to direct the toy where it could do the most good while we also shared some more kisses…’

 

‘…And so I didn’t explode in ten seconds…’

 

‘…I have to say, looking down at Emma’s body, inside of her finally, admiring her perky breasts, her beautiful balanced form, there is a rare mental image which I hope does not fade like so many others have…’

 

‘…I was upright in the beginning, tried to give Emma the clearance from my beer gut for her ministrations. But it didn’t last. It couldn’t, not with Emma’s kisses on offer, kisses she almost seemed to WANT to share. That apparent desire automatically made everything ten times hotter, and was a consistent thread in the one or two hours we spent in her realm…’

 

‘…A big reason why I’ll return again and again. I hope. If the stars align into just the right configuration. If not, I have some wonderful memories, for now. And this review, for after…’

 

‘…We didn’t run down a huge checklist of positions. There weren’t any great acrobatic feats. Some thrusting, lots of grinding; me painting on Emma’s canvas this time. We stayed in missionary for what was a long time but felt shorter. Each instant was packed with something, attention drawn this way and that in such a way that nothing grew old. And we finished in missionary, later, after cycling through a few others…’

 

‘…“Cowgirl?” One or the other of us suggested, between kisses, panting up close, perhaps while I was stretching upright again. It might have been in the form of a sentence. I did waffle at times. Agreement with the idea in reply. Conceptually, but short of a timeline…’

 

‘…Missionary continued…’

 

‘…Rinse, repeat…’

 

‘…It was like the couch and the shower, earlier. My goofy grin returned, I’m sure. Between kisses. We continued, everything feeling so very good that I hated the idea of stopping…’

 

 

‘…Eventually we did shift to cowgirl. I’d wanted the change, just couldn’t make myself move from what we’d been doing. I’d wanted it so my hands were free to explore Emma’s body, her breasts, to grip her hips and waist and help her grind. To admire her tanned torso above me. Her pretty face looking down at me, those cheeky twinkling eyes glowing with something nice…’

 

‘…Cowgirl. Wasn’t a disappointment. Felt fantastic; looked the same. Emma bounced, ground, and did other things while up there. She showed off her energy, her sheer stamina. We kissed, as she came down, as I wrapped her torso up and thrust up into her…’

 

‘…This was a higher energy position, the toy discarded for it. Emma ground against while I met her moves as best I could, gripping her hips, caressing those wonderful breasts. Things became heated. But the blur is pretty bad, and details are faint…’

 

‘…A detail that isn’t faint was an impression, of Emma’s skill. She knew what she was doing, and did it so well. As she had with the oral, earlier. The way she moved her body, the way it flowed so smoothly. This was no girl, thrashing around. Instead she was a mature young woman, in tune with her body and skilled at bringing pleasure to her partner with it…’

 

 

‘…After working off some energy in cowgirl we went with a left spoon. The conversion was relatively swift this time, and the toy came back into play. Pieces fit just right – as they had in the previous positions, as they had from the first embrace…’

 

‘…This spooning position was fantastic also. Sometimes it can be awkward, heights, dimensions, misalignments, whatever. Sometimes it just doesn’t work. Sometimes, it can put the little fella to sleep. Not this time! Emma felt great in front of me, her ass cheeks pressed against my pelvis, her hips working me as though it were mutual, as the toy helped out…’

 

‘…She tilted her face up and there were some kisses. Not as many, but enough for the moment. Hands might have linked at some points here, also…’

 

‘…All while I tried to find that elusive spot, to rub her just right. I think we did okay…’

 

‘…I certainly enjoyed the attempt…’

 

 

‘…Another transition, this time barely a transition at all. A quarter roll and we were into caterpillar. Or prone-bone if you prefer. We repositioned for it, to avoid rolling off the bed, a pillow elevating Emma’s ass just right. And we slid together again…’

 

‘…Slow and steady; hands exploring Emma’s curves; entwining on the pillow, against the headboard, gripping tight at times. With me mixing up the depth and angle, still on the hunt – resolved to find it before exploding. Emma bucking back, rolling her hips, milking me – making it so much more than it would have been with a starfish…’

 

 

‘…Sometimes tilting her head enough for some kisses. Not often, again, but often enough. Those linked hands stayed linked for much of the time in this position, that seemingly trivial contact amplifying things so much…’

 

‘…It wasn’t all sedate. Things became heated. Animated, even. Thighs locked me in with real force from the athletic Emma, hands gripped my thighs tight, talons noted but not drawing blood or causing pain. Or marks at all. A blur, but clear impressions remain. It was really good! I got close. Emma might have gotten close also. A demand made; and met. More kisses shared…’

 

‘…An intermission. Unavoidable…’

 

‘…We resumed. Kissed. Cuddled. I just wanted to wrap Emma up! Her body felt so good against me, under, over, beside. Face-to-face was my favourite, obviously…’

 

‘…And we settled into another favourite. I reacquainted myself with her kitty, brought along the toy, and licked hello for a little while…’

 

 

‘…The trusty pillow. The Energizer vibe. The responsive Emma. And JS along for the ride. It was a fun ride, and it primed me for what would come next. A hand linked again, me grinning on the inside while we – the toy and I – worked on this delightfully receptive (& responsive) lady…’

 

‘…Note to self: Don’t get so lost in the kisses that you neglect this part next time. Rarely has delivering oral been such a pleasure for me – such an adventure – and to such a beautiful target. Emma was so expressive, so responsive. Yet it didn’t feel confected, it wasn’t like a porn script. It was like some of the best real experiences I’d had, in that other realm…’

 

‘…A final demand made; not really a demand at all, just the heated verbalisation of deep desire I too felt knocking down my door…’

 

‘…So we returned to missionary…’

 

‘…And we fucked up a storm for that final stretch…’

 

‘…We slid together, wrapped each other up, and went at it. With kisses, still. But hotter than before, faster. Egging each other on, trying to get the other across the line…’

 

‘…Continuous kisses. The edge approaching; either orgasm or unconsciousness…’

 

‘…This last stretch was fantastic. The pace. The sensations. The climb. Given the duration of this round – what I later realised was the duration of this round – the final leg too seemed to satisfy that Golden Ratio…’

 

‘…Wrapped up tight, straining, kissing like mad, encouraged by this beautiful passionate woman; I crossed that line. Muscles taut, the explosion feeling very real after that extended round, and so much more prolonged than normal…’

 

‘…The moment truly sublime…’

 

‘…We cuddled and rested. Cleaned up. Chatted a little. My heart unused to such an exertion, needing time to recover…’

 

 

‘…Eventually some signs of life. An idea floated, and flipped. Sweet Emma on her tummy, with me working some massage oil into her back. Admiring her curves, tanned skin and delightful form. And yummy ass. My thinking being that it was a nice way to break up the rounds, while I recovered and Emma had some pampering after treating me so well in that first instalment. Or at least, she was exposed to my doubtful attentions…’

 

‘…As ever, Emma was gracious about it. And I got a rare chance to work over a beautiful woman, warmly receptive and accommodating…’

 

‘…I went slow, and used plenty of oil. Good stuff. Scented. A scent I’ll recall for a long while, and when I do I’ll remember this tanned blonde lass I crossed paths with one spring day…’

 

‘…And grin goofily…’

 

‘…We chatted. Languid. Intimate. Soft. Warm. I adored the sex, all of it. I became addicted to Emma’s kisses. This, learning a little more about Emma, sharing a little more about myself – I enjoyed just as much as all of that…’

 

‘…A spell, different to last time, but a spell nonetheless the only possible explanation…’

 

‘…Time must have gotten away, because the realm started imploding. The first fissure in the containment was the bedside clock I hadn’t been able to see, the water or lube bottle in just the right spot to block it; my eyes fixated elsewhere, anyway…’

 

‘…Still, there was time. We didn’t go from 100 to 0 immediately. Emma handled the ending just as aptly as everything else…’

 

‘…A good thing, since I could barely stand as I dismounted the bed, rubbery legs not up to taking the weight so suddenly…’

 

‘…Final kisses interspersing the routine end-of-session stuff. The vibe still warm. Showers. Dressing. Policing up the assorted stuff spread out around the apartment…’

 

‘…Had it really been two hours? Not two hours of sex, but two hours total? It must have been, regardless of how long it felt to me…’

 

‘…Some final words. Emma still so sweet. The mischievousness still there; but we’d peeled a few layers in our time together, and she was more beautiful than ever. Some final kisses, to remember her by…’

 

 

‘…A final note to self: Return, if at all possible. If only for those kisses…’

 

‘…And the half marathon was over…’

 

‘…Emma had a room to check out of; I had another walk, not laden as I had been on the way in, but it still took me much longer. Safe travels, blonde angel…’

 

‘…Beyond the bedroom gymnastics, Emma was a cool chick to spent time with. I felt like I could have spent all day in that apartment, that bedroom, sharing pleasure, talking, listening, massaging or being massaged, simply losing myself in those passionate kisses for lengthy stretches in between. That was my core vibe, the key take away, and so very rare. Emma was the kind of approachable yet beautiful girl you wanted to find, long ago, the kind who could make everything so chilled and fun. Who was chilled and fun, while being a little devilish and mischievous, and very sensual. Not the kind you need to visit the therapist after spending the frigid night with. The other extreme; and in such an alluringly balanced package. It was like finding a second unicorn, almost, in as many months, after hearing myths of their existence as a little boy, and searching for decades…’

 

‘…Thank you, Emma. You had me at hello, and that first passionate kiss. Everything that followed was a delightful cherry on top…’

 

‘…This experience reminding me there might be one out in the real world, also. That perhaps it was finally time to look again…’

 

‘…Μονόκερως (Monoceros)…’

 

 

{Punting Postscript}

 

I am so glad that things finally aligned for this meeting with Emma. It was worth the wait but the wait was also long enough.

 

I’d been captivated by her images from the time I started researching about this caper again back in 2015, my previous five years playing the monk having led to a total lack of current knowledge. I think I only recognised a single name back then, ironically one I had seen before. Since then her initial positive reviews at PP had become many. Still, I’d been patient – and fittingly it was rewarded. I’d hoped Emma would drop in before Christmas. And she did. My early Christmas present, the quasi-surprise factor possibly making it even better.

 

Here I could include a pithy quote from an earlier session. It would apply equally. This was a fantastic experience with a wonderful woman, one of my best. What more can be said? What more needs to be said at this point?

 

Would I recommend? Absolutely. Of course, yes. Emma was a delight; open-minded, skilled, warm, sensual, accommodating, mischievous and cheeky. Her balance was just right for me that day, like she’d read me and tailored her approach, or it was her default. Either way, it was a bullseye. For someone seeking a sensual GFE with a sexy skilled young blonde woman, Emma would have to be near the top of your list. As I have written only twice before, it was about as good as it could get in a paid encounter. There were times I forgot it was.

 

Would I return? Yes. Given a choice, many times. Even two hours wasn’t enough; it was fantastic but was over all-too quickly. I still have to investigate this missing-time phenomenon. Given the resources, I would want a longer session to explore with this delightful young woman. Failing that, any return is high on my list if the stars align again. Very high. I just hope it doesn’t take another two years. Once again, there were things I missed out on sharing, parts of Emma’s body that didn’t receive enough attention – or any at all – and elements we didn’t do nearly enough of.

 

And if I were to win Lotto, I’d be arranging a threesome with Rachel and Emma; something I’ve never experienced before – something I’ve rarely even considered desirable. Individually, these nymphs were fantastic; but together, I think they would send me into orbit. And who doesn’t want to go into orbit?

 

 

Live Well & Happy Punting,

 

JohnS

 

* - I might have added that last one. Pretty sure the others were indeed spoken at various points.

[AndyJ]

JS, I think you have trademarked the "epic review" style. Thanks for taking the time to write it and sharing it. And, of course, glad you had a great time with Emma.

[neverfail]

Thanks for the review, JohnS! That is better than some published erotic stories! Keep on going with your nice work

[Powderkeg]

So it was good?

[Clandestine]

What was she like??

[tresk]

Nicely written mate!

[John Sköld]

Nicely written mate!

 

Thanks Tresk,

 

I appreciate that. A lot of effort went into it. And glad you got through it.

 

Future reviews will be shorter and more to the point.

 

I'll be trialing the new approach with a much less positive experience.

 

Peace,

JS

[JohnBloke]

JohnSkold - So well written ....thank you.It took me some time to get used to your style of narrative and the length of the review but it is rewarding

I have also met Emma and you capture what she is like very well.Cheers mate.

[wolfgang]

Nice!  Thanks for reminding me of Emma's sexual prowess.

[John Sköld]

I have also met Emma and you capture what she is like very well.Cheers mate.

 

HI JB,

 

Thanks a lot for that comment. I was hoping someone would confirm I wasn't smoking crack or some other substance - someone who had also shared a little time with Emma.

 

The balance struck seemed so effortless; yet I've been reminded of late just how rare it is.

 

Hopefully 2018 will present an opportunity (or two) for a repeat.

 

Live Well,

JS

[HaveFun]

It takes longer to read your review than to actually fuck her.

 

good effort always counts

[alfa02]

Thank you JS for the review. Great reading on my favourite topic. How big is your blender?. We are so lucky that there are experiences out there that enrich an otherwise boring life. Thanks again.