Cont'd.

A real piece of work here...me, that is.

Anyway...I was a kind of a pussy about it. I convinced myself it was going to be FBST. A nice rationalization I used...and gee, it'll be CHEAPER and not REALLY cheating.

Yeah, right.

So I get there...the suburban incall. I felt like the guy in "Deacon Blues" "crawling like a viper through these suburban streets." 'Cept she was neither languid nor bittersweet. I had seen her provide a more "public" type of service, one for an audience. I have yet to see a person more comfortable with herself. Her energy level was high...she was engaged. I was scared shitless.

But I started getting my "massage". It was an OK massage, clearly not her forte. We talked about stuff...I heard a story about someone's childhood, it may have been hers. Actually there was a reason I wanted to book her. There is a wholesomeness in "Jenny" (not a real name of course...never real names here. Maybe not real stories. Maybe just "realistic" stories...or not) that hasn't been beaten out of her by her business. Tough? No doubt. Tough minded? More than me, for sure...but there was a tenderness and an empathy, too. My projection? Ya' think?

Anyway...then the tug with the hand around my ribcage signaling "the flip". Bodysurfing, teasing with wonderful tits (she has a smokin' body), on with the cover (by mouth, natch), then great cbj and she moved from perpendicular to me to straddling me with her covered kitty in my face.

She is VERY athletic...it's a trademark of her service (and well known in this community). I wonder if she was into gymnastics at one time. Would have been too tall to pursue it...but she HAS talent. Maybe she practices hatha yoga now....but I digress...she does a somersault(!) to flip off me and at the same time peels off the thong. A complicated maneuver requiring impressive coordination and muscle control.

Really a fine show.