- Joined
- Jul 27, 2014
- Messages
- 65
- Reaction score
- 54
Reading a recent negative review on this site got me thinking about the worst experience I ever had while P4Ping. It wasn't in Tokyo, or even Japan, so if you want to delete it, no problem.
I used an escort agency in England to book a £150, 60 minute session with one of their gorgeous 20 something escorts on an in-call service in one of their exclusive city centre apartments.
The apartment was indeed of a reasonable quality and on the surface, the girl appeared fine, despite her obvious council estate accent.
England doesn't have the tradition of communally showering with the girl, instead the gentleman showers alone on the assumption that the girl has done so before you arrived.
I entered the bedroom showered and fresh to find the girl in a sexy outfit on the bed. She had long blond hair, big knockers and a curvy figure. I dived in for a bit of DFK, a definite must to get the juices flowing. It was here things started to go pear shaped. She had serious morning breath (it was 2:00pm!), in fact it was like kissing an ashtray that someone had taken a piss in. I should have stopped there, but she had £150 of my money and I wanted to get something for it.
My fingers had been on an exploratory mission down to my next destination and were reporting back that conditions felt nice and juicy. I decided my tongue would have a better time down there than kissing a pissy ashtray so I headed down below. I didn't get past her navel before I noticed the smell down there too. It was like someone had made a cocktail from crotch sweat, piss and vaginal secretions. I recalled my fingers from their reconnaissance mission to find them coated in a pungent slime.
I don't know if you've ever chopped fresh garlic, but it has a tendency to linger on your fingers for a couple of days afterwards. Unfortunately this sticky stuff had the same properties. For the next week, every time I ate a sandwich, my fingers would touch my nose and I would be reminded of this experience.
She looked at me and asked, “is everything okay?” and of course, being the typical Englishman that I am, I replied, “of course,” while wiping my fingers on the bed sheets out of eye shot.
With two holes out of bounds I decided it was probably better not to try the back door in case I got attacked by a nasty invasion from the Klingon Empire. Luckily, she had a nice pair of tits, so I busied myself shagging those instead. Things did end happily, but I vowed never to use that agency or that girl again.
Ironically, about a month later I booked a girl with a different agency, went to a different apartment and guess who opened the door....the same fucking girl using a different name, pictures and agency.
Needless to say, I gave her another £150 and got the same shitty service!
I used an escort agency in England to book a £150, 60 minute session with one of their gorgeous 20 something escorts on an in-call service in one of their exclusive city centre apartments.
The apartment was indeed of a reasonable quality and on the surface, the girl appeared fine, despite her obvious council estate accent.
England doesn't have the tradition of communally showering with the girl, instead the gentleman showers alone on the assumption that the girl has done so before you arrived.
I entered the bedroom showered and fresh to find the girl in a sexy outfit on the bed. She had long blond hair, big knockers and a curvy figure. I dived in for a bit of DFK, a definite must to get the juices flowing. It was here things started to go pear shaped. She had serious morning breath (it was 2:00pm!), in fact it was like kissing an ashtray that someone had taken a piss in. I should have stopped there, but she had £150 of my money and I wanted to get something for it.
My fingers had been on an exploratory mission down to my next destination and were reporting back that conditions felt nice and juicy. I decided my tongue would have a better time down there than kissing a pissy ashtray so I headed down below. I didn't get past her navel before I noticed the smell down there too. It was like someone had made a cocktail from crotch sweat, piss and vaginal secretions. I recalled my fingers from their reconnaissance mission to find them coated in a pungent slime.
I don't know if you've ever chopped fresh garlic, but it has a tendency to linger on your fingers for a couple of days afterwards. Unfortunately this sticky stuff had the same properties. For the next week, every time I ate a sandwich, my fingers would touch my nose and I would be reminded of this experience.
She looked at me and asked, “is everything okay?” and of course, being the typical Englishman that I am, I replied, “of course,” while wiping my fingers on the bed sheets out of eye shot.
With two holes out of bounds I decided it was probably better not to try the back door in case I got attacked by a nasty invasion from the Klingon Empire. Luckily, she had a nice pair of tits, so I busied myself shagging those instead. Things did end happily, but I vowed never to use that agency or that girl again.
Ironically, about a month later I booked a girl with a different agency, went to a different apartment and guess who opened the door....the same fucking girl using a different name, pictures and agency.
Needless to say, I gave her another £150 and got the same shitty service!
