I've been around the block for a few years now, but for some reason, this is my first review. Why, you ask? Because my night with Cindy was so off the mark that I felt I owed it to others to save them from a similar fate. Here's the story of my 45 minutes of glory (or lack thereof).
The Venue:
Ah, Cindy's "venue" was...let's call it "retro." Think: a second-floor flat in a building that screams 1960s. Two narrow sofas, dim lighting, and a vibe that says, "I'm just here to get you in and out." Punctual as always, I arrived at 8pm. Cindy, on the other hand, followed the classic "just two minutes, baby!" routine—which, of course, stretched to 15 minutes. When I asked if we could hit the bedroom, she said it was "too small." First red flag right there.
The Girl:
Looks-wise, she was somewhat like her pictures but...let's just say the photos were taken in her slimmer days. I shrugged it off—I'd come this far, right?
The Action:
Or, well, the lack of it. Cindy's idea of intimacy involved scrolling on her phone while I waited for her to get with the program. We finally undressed, and she insisted that "French kissing" meant no tongues. I'm pretty sure the French would disagree. Moving on, I tried giving her a bit of oral attention, but she flinched and said she was ticklish. By now, I was seeing flashing neon signs saying "abort mission," but I figured I'd give it one last shot. I told her that this wasn't really working for me and suggested I'd just leave with a partial payment.
Her reaction? She grabbed the money like she was collecting rent and then accused me of being rude. After a tense few moments, we agreed to "start over." (Spoiler: things didn't improve much.)
Attempt #2 was equally tragic. Her handjob was jerky, and her BJ was...well, let's just say she wouldn't win any awards. I asked if we could finally, you know, get down to business, and she said she needed to "freshen up." Ten minutes later (yep, still in that tiny sitting room), she attempted to hop on me without a condom, claiming she was on some "prep." Uh, no thanks. I asked for protection, which seemed to annoy her, and then she complained it would hurt with a condom.
After a few awkward tries, she gave up, and I resorted to summoning every memory of my past encounters just to finish the job. She cleaned me up in record time, I took a quick shower in her less-than-sanitary bathroom, and got out of there in a hurry.
In Conclusion: Do yourself a favor—take that itch elsewhere.
https://birchplace.com/@ella_dogan
she call herself Hung Trans Selena