bbongobboy
16-08-2018, 11:15 AM
Hello Chaps!
Now those of you who know me know that travelling around Sydney without being spotted is rather hard.
Sigh, the price of celebrity.
But when someone asks me to come visit in Sydney's outer suburbs at a place I've never punted before curiosity will get the better of me, so I fired up the Ferrari to take it for a run down motorways and freeways of Sydney.
Political aside: Those greedy income tax cuts we got a decade ago requiring PPP projects to fund expensive user pays public infrastructure are sure working out well in Sydney, aren't they? Neoliberal scum. Ahem.
So I find a little green house surrounded by chain fencing looking just like a prison washhouse with services offered by three Chinese MI... I mean girls who might struggle for a regular spot on the roster in Kyoto 206.
They have all their heads, shoulders, knees and toes where they ought to be.
Luckily there is off steeet parking behind the house which kept the Ferrari from losing an emblem or being keyed.
Fashion aside: Who in the land of hookers and madames decided that the sluttier, sillier, more difficult to remove brothel wear the better to get men hot and ready to trot? Give me a friendly girl in minimal makeup wearing simple matching black bra and panties over a painted clown face tangled up in studded vinyl and fishnet any day. And I mean, it's the same people who think men prefer plastic bags pretending to be large breasts over natural As/Bs. Keep it simple girls. Pleeeaaassse!
Inside the little house is more presentable and cleaner than most of the cheaper knocking shops in and around the city, and services are honest, passionate, flexible geared toward the 15-30 minute blow and go crowd. But then folks are simpler around these parts.
I stayed too long, as usual, and probably broke the record for the longest punt of the year in Minto (mint green painted house, get it?) 13 but then a Jessica and I had a lot to catch up on.
Jessica, like most gals, has been seen in and around Sydney for a while, and done stints under various names from Hornsby to Caringbah and everywhere in between, so performance is wholly dependent on whether the girl is as into you as you are into the girl. The same can be said for any girl in any brothel or massage shop anywhere, ever. Suffice to say, Jessica and I are getting married sometime, someplace. Fun with a capital F, U and N, for me anyway. But each to their own.
To sum up, Sydney is broken. Girls need to sell their bodies and souls to find a decent income without having being born with rich parents, privatisation has destroyed an otherwise sensible city and the market for sex is overcrowded with shops and staff making it a punters paradise.
BB
Now those of you who know me know that travelling around Sydney without being spotted is rather hard.
Sigh, the price of celebrity.
But when someone asks me to come visit in Sydney's outer suburbs at a place I've never punted before curiosity will get the better of me, so I fired up the Ferrari to take it for a run down motorways and freeways of Sydney.
Political aside: Those greedy income tax cuts we got a decade ago requiring PPP projects to fund expensive user pays public infrastructure are sure working out well in Sydney, aren't they? Neoliberal scum. Ahem.
So I find a little green house surrounded by chain fencing looking just like a prison washhouse with services offered by three Chinese MI... I mean girls who might struggle for a regular spot on the roster in Kyoto 206.
They have all their heads, shoulders, knees and toes where they ought to be.
Luckily there is off steeet parking behind the house which kept the Ferrari from losing an emblem or being keyed.
Fashion aside: Who in the land of hookers and madames decided that the sluttier, sillier, more difficult to remove brothel wear the better to get men hot and ready to trot? Give me a friendly girl in minimal makeup wearing simple matching black bra and panties over a painted clown face tangled up in studded vinyl and fishnet any day. And I mean, it's the same people who think men prefer plastic bags pretending to be large breasts over natural As/Bs. Keep it simple girls. Pleeeaaassse!
Inside the little house is more presentable and cleaner than most of the cheaper knocking shops in and around the city, and services are honest, passionate, flexible geared toward the 15-30 minute blow and go crowd. But then folks are simpler around these parts.
I stayed too long, as usual, and probably broke the record for the longest punt of the year in Minto (mint green painted house, get it?) 13 but then a Jessica and I had a lot to catch up on.
Jessica, like most gals, has been seen in and around Sydney for a while, and done stints under various names from Hornsby to Caringbah and everywhere in between, so performance is wholly dependent on whether the girl is as into you as you are into the girl. The same can be said for any girl in any brothel or massage shop anywhere, ever. Suffice to say, Jessica and I are getting married sometime, someplace. Fun with a capital F, U and N, for me anyway. But each to their own.
To sum up, Sydney is broken. Girls need to sell their bodies and souls to find a decent income without having being born with rich parents, privatisation has destroyed an otherwise sensible city and the market for sex is overcrowded with shops and staff making it a punters paradise.
BB