Ahh, poor Belle. As is all too often the case, River City is harsh to the uninitiated; if the weather doesn't get you the denizens will take a crack at spinning the new-arrival, or just about anybody else in the name of self-indulgent entertainment or stultifying bureuacracy, off her axis. In Belle's case, as she braved the slippery roads into the city, working her way from Edmonton to Toronto, she had a MVA and her car is now undrivable, with a few bruises to show for it herself. She may be here for a while. She is currently dealing with local authorities and her insurance company to get herself, and her traveling SP companion, back on the road.
Belle is not so much touring as heading home, stopped in mainly to get gas and to see just one client, G-unit, but was open to referrals, and that's where I come in. She does not advertise at all on the usual channels due to previous bad experiences with clients without references. Looking at a rather expensive autobody bill if she chooses not to file a claim, she may want to re-think that approach to earning money.
Her frustration --- it's so cute when tiny girls swear in French --- did spill over into some disorganization at the opening. She got in late and missed her evening appointment. This morning she was just getting out of the shower when I thought I had arrived. No matter. She had given me the wrong hotel name, so that gave her twenty more minutes to straighten herself up as I intrepidly drove the slippery streets out of downtown and headed west.
I was greeted at the door of her very fashionable hotel suite (which she had mixed up with one of our downtown dives --- whew! what a relief! -- it must be the French) by a very youthful pretty spinner, with some facial acne to underscore anyone's teen-age girl fantasies, wearing a terry cloth towel wrapped around her tiny body, hair still tied up from the shower. She is a 32A - 22 - 34, I will guess. If you are a breast man, you are now duly warned. The room reflected the sudden confusion and distress in her life with clothes and sundry items strewn everywhere, even a tiny chihuahua hiding under clothes on the couch. We shared a self-conscious hug and kiss as she told me her troubles and vented a little. I broke the tension with some banter, a few jokes, then stripped down and headed for the shower.
She met me on the bed, towel now cast aside, but looking very stressed. She does have a gorgeous spinner-thin body, with an ass-to-die-for, so magnificient its smooth taught muscular form. Her waist is garlanded with tasteful tattoos and a tramp stamp, a small gauge vertical barbell piercing is just above her clit, like a landmarker. "Vigorously apply tongue to this spot when ready" was inscribed on the 10 gauge barbell (I squinted to be able to read this).
Her stress did not bode well for the best session possible, it felt like "mood kill" had been sprayed into the room, I needed to take corrective action. "Time for my patented hypnotic Swedish-shiatsu massage", said Austin Powers. She lit up at this suggestion, and fetched a full-size bottle of Johnson's Baby Oil. The things girls have at the ready! I laid her facedown on the bed, oiling her skin, sucked dry of moisture by our Western cold front, and applying firm strokes to her nude backside, all the while whispering to her about an imagined sexy romantic getaway to an abandoned remote Mexican beach, with lush jungle, white sand and azure waters. This cleared her mind of her pressing, and depressing, immediate problem as she drifted off, and nearly went to sleep. It was good to see.
I turned her over and oiled up the other side, working her breasts and belly. Gorgeous, hard-on-inducing slim body! The finish: a face and scalp massage, with great view of her form as she lay on the pillow in my lap.
She sat up, removed the pillow, and looked at the spike that was poking the back of her neck. "He looks ready", the now-relaxed ingenue cooed. He was veeerrrryyyyy ready.
"Would you like to fuck?", she said with an edge of cock-hunger in her voice and a look of anticipation on her face.
"No, I want to lick first" and I dove into her muff, following the directions on the signpost and wrapping my tongue around her clit. She likes this WITH having her nipples pulled and twisted a bit; it generates a moaning from her mouth that the skilled pooner can control with his tongue, as if operating the volume control on a stereo. I discovered that digits also increased the volume easily. We did this for quite a while, I think she would have gone on all day, me persistently trying to ring her chimes, but my woody was tapping my shoulders at this point, in Morse code: "Hey, when is it going to be OUR turn?"
She moved between my legs and began to suck and play. She can deep throat!!! Wow! Those Quebec girls must take this as a subject in school; I can see that announcement from their guidance counsellor: " Attention, jeunes filles, do you want an elective in home economics 101 or oral skills 100 - college entrance requirement, this year", and all hands shoot up for the latter. Manitoba should adopt the Quebec curriculum.
Her mouth felt like a slice of bliss, it was almost a shame to stop, but her suggestion was spot-on:"Let's do soixante-neuf". Ah, she speaks my language. Besides, she wanted more tongue, you could just tell. She must of started to get off because she quit blowing me at one point and just rode my face with abandon.
I couldn't stand it much longer myself, she sure knew how to handle the full length of a man's shaft. I had a plan for her but she went for my Achille's heel. "I want you to fuck me as hard as you can in doggie!". Belle had completely forgotten her car accident at this point and was ready to go. She spent a few minutes searching the suite for the condoms, and --sigh of relief -- found them. I really should start bringing my own. A good Boy Scout is always prepared.
I bent her over, looked down at her perfect buns and sent my anaconda into Snake Canyon. Yes, boys, yes, exceptionally tight pussy! Locked in her vice grip, I was toast in 30 seconds, screaming and moaning myself as I nailed her to the sheets. I jack-hammered for a minute more at best, oh yeah, but a shorter trip than I had planned on.
I carefully worked my auger out of her tight sinkerhole, rolled off her like a man shot by a sniper, and caught my brreath as the bed comforter seemed to rise up to catch me. She attended to my post-coital penile ablutions, baby wipes at the ready, and we talked a little bit more.
The memory of a damaged and slightly bent truck must have come back to her, as her mind made its way back to reality. I bantered some more, while working my way again to the shower and then into my clothes., then wished her well with her annoying new challenges in the City of the Jets (she's a Habs fan, but that's alright, huh?), stole one more kiss, then ambled off to the lobby.
Damage: $$$/hr
L: Body - 8.5
Face - 7.5
A: 8 - a tough call. I caught her at a bad time, she was blue and needed a boost, but I was able to turn her feelings around. It did show up in her lack of lingerie and lack of grooming, but I am sure her depressed mood had something to do with that too. Her rating in optimal circumstances is likely better.
S: 10 - BBBJ, DATY, DT, digits. The girl was down for most anything; I thought about CIM but that tight pussy is a vanishly-rare delicacy that a cock should partake of any chance a cock can get.
Atmosphere: 8 - she played music on her iPhone, had a good suite, but the place was a shambles of clothes, cigarette packs, suitcases and dog stuff...with small dogs thrown in. Again, she had been knocked for a loop and was off her game.
......and now for an occasional highly-controversial feature of my reviews that usually invites pitchforks-and-torches, abuse-and-condemnation, as pooner and SP alike take issue(s) with me, mount the top of the hill, and hurl invectives my way. I call this:
What She Could Do Better.
I see this girl as a diamond-in-the-rough, and if she can get her act togther could be a great one; but she is not there yet. Yes, she needs a large chunk of pooning money this visit to bail herself out of Lower Slobbovia and get back to civilization, in Toronto, where she can pull her life back into order. But once the big bucks start rolling in here's how I think she should invest it, if she wants to leverage herself fully as a SP par excellence.
1) She is a dyejob blonde, and in my fantasies, flipping through Playboys, I always picture them as at least a C cup. I vote "Aye" for a boob job. Yeah, a little harsh. And there are plenty of guys who say: "Leave them the way God intended". But God also invented the silicon implant, I say work with God. She would induce spontaneous drools in men everywhere, if she got new headlights, and I don't mean for her truck
2) She reminded me of Austin Powers, in the first movie: Really bad teeth. Her lack of oral cosmesis (oral skills are waaay fine) detracts from her remarkable otherwise-balanced face. Is there an orthodontist in the house?
3) Lingerie and hairstlye, was, well, not there. Always bugs me when I see hot stockings and garters on the website, and then nothing in person. An oversight most likely attributable to her mind being elsewhere.
4) A dermatologist could cure her facial acne in no time, a minor annoyance
5) She really should promote herself properly. Maybe she will do this in Toronto, her new home, after she settles in and examines her situation. I don't think she will be a regular traveling lady, at least for a while.
Not yet ready for the big show, but will go very high in the draft some day.
Belle is not so much touring as heading home, stopped in mainly to get gas and to see just one client, G-unit, but was open to referrals, and that's where I come in. She does not advertise at all on the usual channels due to previous bad experiences with clients without references. Looking at a rather expensive autobody bill if she chooses not to file a claim, she may want to re-think that approach to earning money.
Her frustration --- it's so cute when tiny girls swear in French --- did spill over into some disorganization at the opening. She got in late and missed her evening appointment. This morning she was just getting out of the shower when I thought I had arrived. No matter. She had given me the wrong hotel name, so that gave her twenty more minutes to straighten herself up as I intrepidly drove the slippery streets out of downtown and headed west.
I was greeted at the door of her very fashionable hotel suite (which she had mixed up with one of our downtown dives --- whew! what a relief! -- it must be the French) by a very youthful pretty spinner, with some facial acne to underscore anyone's teen-age girl fantasies, wearing a terry cloth towel wrapped around her tiny body, hair still tied up from the shower. She is a 32A - 22 - 34, I will guess. If you are a breast man, you are now duly warned. The room reflected the sudden confusion and distress in her life with clothes and sundry items strewn everywhere, even a tiny chihuahua hiding under clothes on the couch. We shared a self-conscious hug and kiss as she told me her troubles and vented a little. I broke the tension with some banter, a few jokes, then stripped down and headed for the shower.
She met me on the bed, towel now cast aside, but looking very stressed. She does have a gorgeous spinner-thin body, with an ass-to-die-for, so magnificient its smooth taught muscular form. Her waist is garlanded with tasteful tattoos and a tramp stamp, a small gauge vertical barbell piercing is just above her clit, like a landmarker. "Vigorously apply tongue to this spot when ready" was inscribed on the 10 gauge barbell (I squinted to be able to read this).
Her stress did not bode well for the best session possible, it felt like "mood kill" had been sprayed into the room, I needed to take corrective action. "Time for my patented hypnotic Swedish-shiatsu massage", said Austin Powers. She lit up at this suggestion, and fetched a full-size bottle of Johnson's Baby Oil. The things girls have at the ready! I laid her facedown on the bed, oiling her skin, sucked dry of moisture by our Western cold front, and applying firm strokes to her nude backside, all the while whispering to her about an imagined sexy romantic getaway to an abandoned remote Mexican beach, with lush jungle, white sand and azure waters. This cleared her mind of her pressing, and depressing, immediate problem as she drifted off, and nearly went to sleep. It was good to see.
I turned her over and oiled up the other side, working her breasts and belly. Gorgeous, hard-on-inducing slim body! The finish: a face and scalp massage, with great view of her form as she lay on the pillow in my lap.
She sat up, removed the pillow, and looked at the spike that was poking the back of her neck. "He looks ready", the now-relaxed ingenue cooed. He was veeerrrryyyyy ready.
"Would you like to fuck?", she said with an edge of cock-hunger in her voice and a look of anticipation on her face.
"No, I want to lick first" and I dove into her muff, following the directions on the signpost and wrapping my tongue around her clit. She likes this WITH having her nipples pulled and twisted a bit; it generates a moaning from her mouth that the skilled pooner can control with his tongue, as if operating the volume control on a stereo. I discovered that digits also increased the volume easily. We did this for quite a while, I think she would have gone on all day, me persistently trying to ring her chimes, but my woody was tapping my shoulders at this point, in Morse code: "Hey, when is it going to be OUR turn?"
She moved between my legs and began to suck and play. She can deep throat!!! Wow! Those Quebec girls must take this as a subject in school; I can see that announcement from their guidance counsellor: " Attention, jeunes filles, do you want an elective in home economics 101 or oral skills 100 - college entrance requirement, this year", and all hands shoot up for the latter. Manitoba should adopt the Quebec curriculum.
Her mouth felt like a slice of bliss, it was almost a shame to stop, but her suggestion was spot-on:"Let's do soixante-neuf". Ah, she speaks my language. Besides, she wanted more tongue, you could just tell. She must of started to get off because she quit blowing me at one point and just rode my face with abandon.
I couldn't stand it much longer myself, she sure knew how to handle the full length of a man's shaft. I had a plan for her but she went for my Achille's heel. "I want you to fuck me as hard as you can in doggie!". Belle had completely forgotten her car accident at this point and was ready to go. She spent a few minutes searching the suite for the condoms, and --sigh of relief -- found them. I really should start bringing my own. A good Boy Scout is always prepared.
I bent her over, looked down at her perfect buns and sent my anaconda into Snake Canyon. Yes, boys, yes, exceptionally tight pussy! Locked in her vice grip, I was toast in 30 seconds, screaming and moaning myself as I nailed her to the sheets. I jack-hammered for a minute more at best, oh yeah, but a shorter trip than I had planned on.
I carefully worked my auger out of her tight sinkerhole, rolled off her like a man shot by a sniper, and caught my brreath as the bed comforter seemed to rise up to catch me. She attended to my post-coital penile ablutions, baby wipes at the ready, and we talked a little bit more.
The memory of a damaged and slightly bent truck must have come back to her, as her mind made its way back to reality. I bantered some more, while working my way again to the shower and then into my clothes., then wished her well with her annoying new challenges in the City of the Jets (she's a Habs fan, but that's alright, huh?), stole one more kiss, then ambled off to the lobby.
Damage: $$$/hr
L: Body - 8.5
Face - 7.5
A: 8 - a tough call. I caught her at a bad time, she was blue and needed a boost, but I was able to turn her feelings around. It did show up in her lack of lingerie and lack of grooming, but I am sure her depressed mood had something to do with that too. Her rating in optimal circumstances is likely better.
S: 10 - BBBJ, DATY, DT, digits. The girl was down for most anything; I thought about CIM but that tight pussy is a vanishly-rare delicacy that a cock should partake of any chance a cock can get.
Atmosphere: 8 - she played music on her iPhone, had a good suite, but the place was a shambles of clothes, cigarette packs, suitcases and dog stuff...with small dogs thrown in. Again, she had been knocked for a loop and was off her game.
......and now for an occasional highly-controversial feature of my reviews that usually invites pitchforks-and-torches, abuse-and-condemnation, as pooner and SP alike take issue(s) with me, mount the top of the hill, and hurl invectives my way. I call this:
What She Could Do Better.
I see this girl as a diamond-in-the-rough, and if she can get her act togther could be a great one; but she is not there yet. Yes, she needs a large chunk of pooning money this visit to bail herself out of Lower Slobbovia and get back to civilization, in Toronto, where she can pull her life back into order. But once the big bucks start rolling in here's how I think she should invest it, if she wants to leverage herself fully as a SP par excellence.
1) She is a dyejob blonde, and in my fantasies, flipping through Playboys, I always picture them as at least a C cup. I vote "Aye" for a boob job. Yeah, a little harsh. And there are plenty of guys who say: "Leave them the way God intended". But God also invented the silicon implant, I say work with God. She would induce spontaneous drools in men everywhere, if she got new headlights, and I don't mean for her truck
2) She reminded me of Austin Powers, in the first movie: Really bad teeth. Her lack of oral cosmesis (oral skills are waaay fine) detracts from her remarkable otherwise-balanced face. Is there an orthodontist in the house?
3) Lingerie and hairstlye, was, well, not there. Always bugs me when I see hot stockings and garters on the website, and then nothing in person. An oversight most likely attributable to her mind being elsewhere.
4) A dermatologist could cure her facial acne in no time, a minor annoyance
5) She really should promote herself properly. Maybe she will do this in Toronto, her new home, after she settles in and examines her situation. I don't think she will be a regular traveling lady, at least for a while.
Not yet ready for the big show, but will go very high in the draft some day.
