Coco - Log-jam on the 533 river of lust
Today was a mixed bag of goodies at the ever-satisfying 533. My visits have been a bit spasmodic lately but a window of opportunity arose for some serious business. I ring to book and Michael gives me the roster run-down. I recall some exotic reports of Kitty so book an hour with a super-cat…
I had not met Michael before. A very polite and worthy host, I must say. Led straight down the hall (both waiting rooms are occupied) to the “kitchen”, I’m reminded of a frenetic session in this room many moons ago with lovely Nana. Now however, the room looks more like the aftermath of an earthquake or some other natural disaster… no bed now, but clothing, handbags, discarded food containers and tissue boxes scattered across the several sofas of seating. The sink is still full of coffee cups. I am not game to ask about the contents of a jar on the small table in the centre of the room… is it fermenting oysters or perhaps some other exotic oriental delicacy? Maybe the instrument of some ritualistic invocation of animal entrails… it reminds me of some evil shit I saw for sale in Vietnam a short while back. Don’t you just love the capacity of humanity to consume anything that moves? Not that this stuff was moving, mind you… decidedly deceased, I would say…
Anyway… after informing me Kitty is running a few minutes late, Michael and I chat… discussing the rugby, the ravages of money and betting in sport and… cricket… he is well versed on cricket history, recalling the Dennis Lilley and the Chappell brothers era. We agree that Glenn McGrath and Shane Warne probably represented the greatest bowling period for the “gentleman game”. Ha… the other half of my brain is wondering when Kitty might actually appear… then there is a call from one of the waiting rooms (clearly waiting is rigueur de jour this Tuesday)… Michael dashes down the hall to pacify a patient punter and a cup of tea is prepared and dispatched…
By now, I have consumed a can of Coke, twenty minutes have passed and my window of opportunity has shrunk from an hour to 30 minutes. Michael scans the screen of corridor video monitors and advises that “Coco” is now free and available… while Kitty remains in “overtime” it seems. Well, why not. Life is brief and I recall recent reports… I have no recollection of what they said, however…
Michael pilots me back down to the second-front room to the waiting Coco. Now I have no idea if this is the same Coco described at 64 Alexander… in retrospect, there seem to be similarities. Anyway, she hugs me and inquires how long (in time… not my dick, so early in our acquaintance…). When I reply 30 minutes, I sensed a hint of relief. She took my $90, then – proffering a packet of cigarettes – asked if I smoke. I don’t. She left to dispense the fee and no doubt have a few feverish puffs on a durrie while I showered.
Coco returned, used some mouthwash at the sink and disrobed before motioning me to the bed… face down… WTF ? I played along with a couple of minutes of “massage” and soft-touch down the back before she reached for the (surprisingly) now-erect bean-stalk. I flipped over, whereupon she began to massage my rampant tool. She cat-bathed her way down, taking me into her mouth. While by no means deep throat, Coco continued thus for some time, using hand and mouth in a determined effort to bring me to a conclusion. She seemed reluctant to accede to my digital approaches at her pudenda. After many minutes though, she realized that I was not going to conclude with her version of bbbj and inquired, “condom now?”
Coco had a strange method of applying the latex – rather than rolling it on in the usual fashion, she forced out the rubber using several fingers and placed it over my penis… sort of like stretching a tea-cozy over granny’s favorite tea-pot. While it may have been a less-appropriate choice for my size, by now I was desperate to proceed. Coco opted for the dog… kissing was never part of this encounter. I entered her to find her surprisingly tight… and shallow. Just three-quarters of my length found a firm end to her vagina upon which I began to prevail with some vigour. She moaned with acquiescence at my thrusting… by now I had realized that I was not going to make a meaningful connection here in just this 30 minutes… might as well fuck and be done…
So I did… pounding away for many minutes… quite satisfying it was too… until ejaculating somewhere deep in her loins. Coco seemed satisfied with her extraction of my juices as she held up the dom full of cum. She motioned me to the shower. She followed, before seeing me back onto the bed for a few minutes of massage to complete the time.
Coco is probably 30-something, a shortish size 8, natural B-cups, with a hint of pudgy-ness about her. She has limited English, yet said (with 2 fingers) she has worked here 2 years… I find that surprising. Anyway, she seems a willing practitioner and no doubt with a longer session would prove to be less mechanical in her chamber practice. However, with all the talent here, I won’t rush back to see her… I remain on a (Michael) promise for Kitty…
By the way… what the fuck was in that jar…?
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Originally Posted by hard
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