I was checking in at a motel for an outcall session, the escort would be arriving later as soon as I sent her the room number. The clerk, a guy, surreptitiously asked me if needed "company". I asked, "Oh, you have chicas available here?" It made me think that I was bringing sand to the beach! Hell, if they had women right there at the motel* . . .
"No," he said, "but we have some on call. You look through the photos, pick the one you want, and we get her to you."
I told him I already had someone arranged for that day, but I would keep it in mind.
A few weeks later, I went back there stag so that I could try out this promotion. I checked in and they told me someone would be at my room with the pictures soon. At my room, young guy showed up, and I expected him to hand me a book of pictures, sort of like an album or catalog. Instead, he showed me his cell phone photo gallery and swiped through the ladies for me to make my choice. It made me wonder why they didn't just give me the agency's link and let me go from there. It turned out that with the motel getting their cut, it was going to cost much much more than the going rate. Maybe that's why they were so cagey. Fine, I'm here and I'm horny, let's do this.
I picked a woman based on a single photo of her and her name alone, a ROOKIE MISTAKE, I would find out later! Zero knowledge of what I was getting, zero research on my part, zero background, zero reviews, I let the little head do all the thinking. They assured me she'd be there in 15 minutes.
I always go for the mutual shower with escorts, but after waiting 25 minutes for a 15-minute arrival, I showered alone to save time once she arrived. About 45 minutes after the promised hour, the knock on the door came and my princess arrived. Instead of the 40-something tall and slender brunette I had glimpsed at on a photo for 3 seconds before my dick said YES, age-wise, the one who came prancing through the door could have been her daughter. From top to bottom, she was the exact opposite of everything that gets my dick hard.
First, she had bright blue florescent hair. I don't know if it was dyed or a wig, but I hate that crap anyway.
Next, her face was caked with blue and green makeup that must have been applied with a spackling gun, and her false eyelashes looked like strands of caterpillar antennae and were bespeckled with gold colored stripper glitter. I believe the thick makeup was for hiding her acne.
She had a mouth full of braces.
She was short and chubby.
Her boobs were straining upwards from the push-up bra that almost had them popping free with every step she took. I do NOT like the slutty look.
Her entire midriff was showing, it was a muffintop that flopped out from under the bra and halter top and curved back towards her non-existent waistline before disappearing in its own folds at the tops of her thighs, thick hammy thighs that rubbed together when she walked and could be heard quite audibly from a distance.
Completing the slutty look that turns me off, a plaid schoolgirl skirt was wrapped around the vicinity of where a waist should be. Personally, I associate that fetishism with pedophilia, and I am NOT a fan.
Her feet were planted into what looked like a pair of orthopedic support shoes, probably to help her maneuver her ungainly body around with more ease. The soles were at least 3 to 4 inches of thick rubber from heel to toe, compensating for her short height. The shoes were white canvas and were designed to pass as tennis shoes, certainly to accompany the schoolgirl image. I was not amused.
Lastly, it turns out she was only 19 years old. Gee, my lucky day! My go-to is for older women, usually 35 and above.
A hard dick doesn't throw a fish back into the water, and since she was already late anyway and my time was short, my dick told me that pussy is pussy, let's do this.
She showered and emerged in even less-inspiring lingerie. This incident was so long ago that I can't remember if she tried to get away with a CBJ, but I do know I normally insist on a BBBJ or no oral at all. Neither can I remember if I succumbed to a CBJ, or if she did the BBBJ, but I don't remember having enjoyed it too much no matter which one she did.
I had her stop, lie down face-up and I went down on her, and that's where my answer to this post's question (finally) comes in. Almost as soon as I spread her legs and had my face close to her puffy labia, the fake moaning began. I had barely even touched her yet! At first, I was just a mere annoyance, so I ignored it, concentrating on what I was doing, what like to do. I figured if I could clamp my head between her HoneyBaked Specials, my ears could be suffocated sufficiently to muffle the noise. A few minutes later, I was ready to climb the next rung of the ladder.
I donned a man-ho cover and we were off to the races in K9 and then missionary. The fake moaning never stopped. I needed to get my nut and get out of there, so I endured it. By the way, there was no LFK nor DFK, either because she wasn't into it or because I wasn't attracted to her, I can't remember which.
As I got closer to blast off, she read my body's signals and ramped up the fake moaning to fake screeching and screaming levels. According to her "script", I was the biggest she had ever had, the best, the greatest, it was so deep, so hard, she was calling out deities, she had never orgasmed so much in her life, I was an animal, she couldn't stop cumming, she was so glad we had met, yadda, yadda, yadda. Where's a sock when you need one? I bet I could have stopped thrusting and pulled out completely, she probably would have continued on autopilot because that's what some pimp had beat her into believing men like it. I kept going, though, meh, a warm place to put it is a warm place to put it. I fired off a full salvo into the Trojan, paid her the agency fee but no tip, and I sent her packing. I did NOT include the perfunctory "I'll be asking for you next time I'm here" or "We have to do this again". Enough is enough.
Lesson learned: stick with the tried and true practices.
*More than a decade ago, it wasn't uncommon for a couple of love motels I frequented to be the hub of escorts for incall and outcall sessions; the women were right there in various rooms and at check-in, all a client had to do was let reception know that he'd like to see a presentation, within 10 to 15 minutes, a bevy of women would parade into his room from whom he would select his special of the day. Sometimes there were only 3 or 4 women, oftentimes as many as 9 or 10. Once, I'm sure the procession was 12 to 15 women they sent into my room, they were packed in there shoulder-to-shoulder, and the way they came spilling in one after another, it was like a clown car at the circus. Each one looked sexier than the one before, it was true sensory overload.
I stopped hobbying for a few years before getting back into it, so I wasn't aware of this service still exists, especially with everything behind more internet-based these days, and with COVID.
