TER General Board
(And no, not that kind of fetish, ladies and gents, so hush up. 
)
Of the get-it-anywhere brands, I'm partial to Barq's and (of course) A&W. But, the best ones are the specialty brands like IBC, Frostop(sp?), and others I can't remember off the top of my head... mainly because they come in GLASS BOTTLES (the ONLY way to have ANY kind of soda, especially root beer!). But the absolute best RB I've ever had was in Las Vegas at the Ellis Island Casino, where they brew it RIGHT THERE ON THE PREMISES (and if you're playing, you get as much as you can suck down, gratis), and at the buffet at one of the Station casinos, where it was home brewed (again) and on tap. Heaven!
I tell you, if I ever engaged in food play with a provider (had to keep this on topic!), she'd be covered in root beer, and I'd proceed to slowly lick off every drop. 
He’d been stalking (sorry, “watching”) me here on TER for a while. Responding to every picture post with “wish I could see you”, “oh you are so far away” (an hour drive!), “someday our paths will cross”, yadda yadda yadda. Enough already, you know? Shit or get off the pot. Then there was the text messages and PMs. Oi Vey!! Don’t get me started!
So since I went to his town on tour, Mr. Fabulous finally decided to grace me with his presence. He knew all about me obviously, and how I looked, but as you ladies know I had no idea what to expect. Just like every time.
The gentle tap on the door that I was expecting was replaced with a pounding on the thing, the kind of which is usually reserved for times when the building is on fire! So much for discreet.
As I opened the door I couldn’t contain my gasp. Apparently he took it as a compliment as he declared “I knew you couldn’t wait to see me, Baby! Let’s get ready to rumble!”
Unfortunately, he was still in the hallway. I’m sure Consuela, standing at her housekeeping cart the next room down got a kick out of that one.
There before me stood yet another old fart trying to recapture his lost youth. “Middle age?!?” Yeah. Maybe if we lived to be 130 years old!
So he strolled into the room with his discount store bag in hand, probably containing yet another generic candle or body wash. Oh joy.
VIPs read on for the “juicy”, or should I say hairy and sweaty, details…
He struts to the back of the room and with flair, sets down the envelope and “gift bag”. The light from the window danced off the top of his head everywhere the comb-over didn’t cover (aka a lotta skin). At least the glare helped blind me from the sight of that lovely belly overlapping the belt, which was straining to contain the girth because he obviously cinched that sucker up about two notches. Maybe he thought it would push it upward and make the man-boobs look like pecs?
I turn to bolt the door and in that brief moment in time he manages to remove all his clothing, except of course for those lovely black socks. Guess he figured I just couldn’t wait.
I go in for a light kiss and the next thing I know he’s got his tongue dancing around the inside of my mouth like he lost his gum and was trying to find it, down my throat. My eyes began to water from the kind of stank that a swirl of Scope just can’t fix. I open them only to be greeted with the most amazing thicket of grey nose hair imaginable.
He takes a break (finally) to announce that it’s “go time” and I’m in for the time of my life. Tells me he has a “skill” that’s very unique and drives women crazy. Wow, never heard THAT one before. So he lays me on the bed and tells me to just relax and enjoy. He’s sure I’ll cum 4 or 5 times because “they all do”.
So he dives between my legs and uses that tongue with the same gentle touch as he did on my mouth. Well fortunately the pussy has no sense of smell, right?
So it’s lick lick lick like some crazy puppy licking cat shit in the yard. Then of course there’s the occasional shaking of the head from side to side quickly. I force a couple moans out and it only encourages him. “Yeah Baby, I told you didn’t I? It’s ok to love it”. Then, when I was just starting to compose my grocery list in my head for later that day, in comes a couple fingers plunging in my hole like a piston in a 350 Chevy. Then there’s the thumb. You know the one, ladies. That damned thing that just happens to land on my asshole so he can push on it and test the waters. Convinced in his deluded mind that it is HIS unique charm and skill that will get me to give up the starfish to him alone.
Not!
So after I pump out a couple of my best orgasm-like sounds and prepare my Academy awards speech, it’s time to get this thing moving.
I work my way down that grey haired body, between man-boob mountains and over belly bulge, carefully avoiding gut lint pit, to search for the elusive mushroom capped shrivel-worm. Oh, there it is. It’s hiding under the folds. I don’t blame it, really. I wouldn’t want to see this either.
It starts to rise with the help of a few flicks of the tongue, and enough Viagra to kill an elephant. With everything inside me I’m trying hard not to gag from the smell of that crust he can’t seem to locate at that crux where the base of mini-dick meets rhino-balls. He senses this and reassures me with “It’s ok Baby, I know it’s big.”
So with most of what could be an erection achieved, I figure I better cover this thing up before it decides to go into hibernation again. As I climb on top I tell him there’s a reason I’m known for my RCG. Little does he know its because I can grab those chicken legs of his and stare at the wall for a while instead of those damned black socks.
After a while (a short while) he tells me he’s close but doesn’t want to finish until we “share the joy of missionary”. So all sweated up, and pink like he’s about to have a heart attack, he dumps that pasty white flabby jiggly bulgy bod of his on top of me and tries to find the hole. No dude, not that one, still not gonna go there.
I reach down and find lil stubby and guide it’s limpy self into the honey pot. I told him the lube was for his pleasure….lol. I artfully dodge the green cloud emitting from that stank pie-hole of his by turning my head so I can whisper sweet nothings into his ear and tell him he’s amazing!
I wonder if any of the words made it past that forest he’s got growing in those things.
After three surreal minutes of thrusting, twitching, grunting, and shimmying he bellows that he’s going to fill my pussy with cum. Yeah, I’m sure Consuela loved hearing that halfway down the hall.
Finally he finishes up with an extra little shake or two, and exhales so hard that the annoying bead of sweat hanging from the tip of his nose gets splattered all over my face.
I’m able to slide out from underneath the behemoth and escape to the bathroom for the washcloth. I know the water should be warm, but I always reach for the cold one first. 
One of these days……
Now the next few minutes I was treated to stories of his prowess, prominence on the boards, and how he’s quite well known and liked. And now after sharing time with him, how I’m a member of that club too. Then asks if I’ll white-list him as soon as I can.
Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that.
I walk with him to the door (to make sure he finds the damned thing) and give him one final kiss, knowing I’ve pulled it off yet again.
Now to the shower where I’ll replace the loofah with bleach and a scouring pad. Just four more of these today and I’m outta here.
I hope Consuela likes all the candles and body wash I’m leaving her……
Because I'll be billing you for the keyboard and monitor I had to replace after I sprayed root beer all over them.
(And no, not that kind of fetish, ladies and gents, so hush up. )
Of the get-it-anywhere brands, I'm partial to Barq's and (of course) A&W. But, the best ones are the specialty brands like IBC, Frostop(sp?), and others I can't remember off the top of my head... mainly because they come in GLASS BOTTLES (the ONLY way to have ANY kind of soda, especially root beer!). But the absolute best RB I've ever had was in Las Vegas at the Ellis Island Casino, where they brew it RIGHT THERE ON THE PREMISES (and if you're playing, you get as much as you can suck down, gratis), and at the buffet at one of the Station casinos, where it was home brewed (again) and on tap. Heaven!
I tell you, if I ever engaged in food play with a provider (had to keep this on topic!), she'd be covered in root beer, and I'd proceed to slowly lick off every drop.
That was hilarious......but I think it smacked any remnant of confidence right out the window.....lol
Maybe its time for me to just watch the video from now on...or rely on the dying memory
Peace
Hobbit Giorgio
Well, I can't say I didn't smile with recognition at a few points.
Gentlemen, she wasn't lying about how very UN-fun a dry thumb shoved up the poop shoot is. It amazes me the number of men who think women like that. And she wasn't being funny about the head shake thing either. Can't count the number of men who do it, and it always tempts me to ask them if they think I'm a particularly tasty bone that needs to be shaken down there the way a dog does with a bone.
But Madam Alias lady? Maybe you should start considering what you want the next chapter in your life to be. It really sounds like you truly loath what you do, all humor aside. Overall, I cringed reading your post. Posts like this give the rest of us a bad name, and lend credence to the stereotype that we are all jaded gold diggers, mentally filing our nails through every appointment.
But gentlemen - do take the whole head shaking hoover vacuum cleaner imitation to heart. Really
So since I went to his town on tour, Mr. Fabulous finally decided to grace me with his presence. He knew all about me obviously, and how I looked, but as you ladies know I had no idea what to expect. Just like every time.
The gentle tap on the door that I was expecting was replaced with a pounding on the thing, the kind of which is usually reserved for times when the building is on fire! So much for discreet.
As I opened the door I couldn’t contain my gasp. Apparently he took it as a compliment as he declared “I knew you couldn’t wait to see me, Baby! Let’s get ready to rumble!”
Unfortunately, he was still in the hallway. I’m sure Consuela, standing at her housekeeping cart the next room down got a kick out of that one.
There before me stood yet another old fart trying to recapture his lost youth. “Middle age?!?” Yeah. Maybe if we lived to be 130 years old!
So he strolled into the room with his discount store bag in hand, probably containing yet another generic candle or body wash. Oh joy.
VIPs read on for the “juicy”, or should I say hairy and sweaty, details…
He struts to the back of the room and with flair, sets down the envelope and “gift bag”. The light from the window danced off the top of his head everywhere the comb-over didn’t cover (aka a lotta skin). At least the glare helped blind me from the sight of that lovely belly overlapping the belt, which was straining to contain the girth because he obviously cinched that sucker up about two notches. Maybe he thought it would push it upward and make the man-boobs look like pecs?
I turn to bolt the door and in that brief moment in time he manages to remove all his clothing, except of course for those lovely black socks. Guess he figured I just couldn’t wait.
I go in for a light kiss and the next thing I know he’s got his tongue dancing around the inside of my mouth like he lost his gum and was trying to find it, down my throat. My eyes began to water from the kind of stank that a swirl of Scope just can’t fix. I open them only to be greeted with the most amazing thicket of grey nose hair imaginable.
He takes a break (finally) to announce that it’s “go time” and I’m in for the time of my life. Tells me he has a “skill” that’s very unique and drives women crazy. Wow, never heard THAT one before. So he lays me on the bed and tells me to just relax and enjoy. He’s sure I’ll cum 4 or 5 times because “they all do”.
So he dives between my legs and uses that tongue with the same gentle touch as he did on my mouth. Well fortunately the pussy has no sense of smell, right?
So it’s lick lick lick like some crazy puppy licking cat shit in the yard. Then of course there’s the occasional shaking of the head from side to side quickly. I force a couple moans out and it only encourages him. “Yeah Baby, I told you didn’t I? It’s ok to love it”. Then, when I was just starting to compose my grocery list in my head for later that day, in comes a couple fingers plunging in my hole like a piston in a 350 Chevy. Then there’s the thumb. You know the one, ladies. That damned thing that just happens to land on my asshole so he can push on it and test the waters. Convinced in his deluded mind that it is HIS unique charm and skill that will get me to give up the starfish to him alone.
Not!
So after I pump out a couple of my best orgasm-like sounds and prepare my Academy awards speech, it’s time to get this thing moving.
I work my way down that grey haired body, between man-boob mountains and over belly bulge, carefully avoiding gut lint pit, to search for the elusive mushroom capped shrivel-worm. Oh, there it is. It’s hiding under the folds. I don’t blame it, really. I wouldn’t want to see this either.
It starts to rise with the help of a few flicks of the tongue, and enough Viagra to kill an elephant. With everything inside me I’m trying hard not to gag from the smell of that crust he can’t seem to locate at that crux where the base of mini-dick meets rhino-balls. He senses this and reassures me with “It’s ok Baby, I know it’s big.”
So with most of what could be an erection achieved, I figure I better cover this thing up before it decides to go into hibernation again. As I climb on top I tell him there’s a reason I’m known for my RCG. Little does he know its because I can grab those chicken legs of his and stare at the wall for a while instead of those damned black socks.
After a while (a short while) he tells me he’s close but doesn’t want to finish until we “share the joy of missionary”. So all sweated up, and pink like he’s about to have a heart attack, he dumps that pasty white flabby jiggly bulgy bod of his on top of me and tries to find the hole. No dude, not that one, still not gonna go there.
I reach down and find lil stubby and guide it’s limpy self into the honey pot. I told him the lube was for his pleasure….lol. I artfully dodge the green cloud emitting from that stank pie-hole of his by turning my head so I can whisper sweet nothings into his ear and tell him he’s amazing!
I wonder if any of the words made it past that forest he’s got growing in those things.
After three surreal minutes of thrusting, twitching, grunting, and shimmying he bellows that he’s going to fill my pussy with cum. Yeah, I’m sure Consuela loved hearing that halfway down the hall.
Finally he finishes up with an extra little shake or two, and exhales so hard that the annoying bead of sweat hanging from the tip of his nose gets splattered all over my face.
I’m able to slide out from underneath the behemoth and escape to the bathroom for the washcloth. I know the water should be warm, but I always reach for the cold one first.
One of these days……
Now the next few minutes I was treated to stories of his prowess, prominence on the boards, and how he’s quite well known and liked. And now after sharing time with him, how I’m a member of that club too. Then asks if I’ll white-list him as soon as I can.
Oh yeah, I’ll get right on that.
I walk with him to the door (to make sure he finds the damned thing) and give him one final kiss, knowing I’ve pulled it off yet again.
Now to the shower where I’ll replace the loofah with bleach and a scouring pad. Just four more of these today and I’m outta here.
I hope Consuela likes all the candles and body wash I’m leaving her……