2004/11 Wombat88 - Short Time in Montreal
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2004/11 Wombat88 - Short Time in Montreal
It had been months since returning from my epic South East Asian adventure. I had been corresponding with two sweethearts all during that time, and I surely missed them both. I was horny.
Although Montreal is a popular pay for play location, I’d done my best to avoid it lest I put myself in the poorhouse. With companions as cheap as $150CAD per hour, it’s a bargain compared to US destinations, but the same amount of money gets you a full night with a hot Rio babe or a whole weekend with a top notch Bangkok honey. So, I’m torn between saving for my next trip and getting laid.
Getting laid won.
Back in 2003, I had discovered a site that provided a comprehensive survey of organizations and individuals in Montreal (known simply as the Montreal Spreadsheet). I corresponded with the guys who put the material together and actually did some research for the principal author. So, I had a pretty good starting point for my own investigation.
I went through the most up-to-date survey, looking for potential mates. I was disheartened to learn that my favorite agency had closed. However, there were several other intriguing possibilities. I was particularly interested in adding to my life list; I noticed that there were a number of foreign girls on offer. After a few phone calls, I settled on a Moroccan girl.
She showed up at my door about ten minutes early (always a pleasant surprise) dressed in casual attire. We exchanged the traditional two-cheek kiss. She looked very nice, far from beautiful, but quite pleasant. Her dark hair had been dyed blonde, something I didn’t much care for. I invited her in and learned that her English was very bad. I had to speak very carefully for her to understand at all.
I offered her a drink in my room. We sat on the bed and talked. Iman married a Canadian a few years earlier and moved to Montreal. The marriage didn’t work out (oops!); she left him but decided to remain in Montreal. She’d taken up her current profession sometime afterward. As I suspected, she was Muslim. If her family ever found out what she was doing to make a living … well, let’s just say it would be bad.
Eventually, we got down to the business at hand. She had a nice body, with firm C cup breasts, and was surprising pale, especially for a North African. I was quite disappointed by two things however: she didn’t kiss and she didn’t like cunnilingus. When I discovered she’d never even tried it, I was determined to get my tongue on her clit. Some girls are raised with the strangest sense of morals and values.
During breaks in our play, I asked her about her life in Morocco and Canada. I also learned that her husband, a Christian surprisingly enough, was the first man she’d been with (no surprise there). I asked her if she liked sex. A big grin spread across her face as she nodded enthusiastically. She admitted she wished she hadn’t waited until she was twenty.
Try as I might, I couldn’t get my mouth anywhere near her honey pot. She promised me that the next time she would let me. I chose not to inform her there would be no next time. While I could live without cunnilingus, kissing was the most important part of the transaction for me.
We cleaned up and I sent her on her way.
While my tryst with Iman was fun, I was still unsatisfied. The following weekend, I went through the list of notes I’d compiled and started doing a bit more research. There was one name that kept coming to the top as having great service and looks. I decided to take a chance on this Quebecoise girl. I called and learned that she was available right away. I decided to book her for later as I wanted to get cleaned up.
At the appointed hour, she was supposed to call me for directions. That time came and went with no call. I phoned the agency. They said she was gone, but they would send me another girl. Thanks, but no thanks.
They called me back a few minutes later telling me she would see me. I was a bit put off at this point, but suspected that this girl was worth it. Half an hour later, a good-looking, confidant girl stood at my door. Her clothes would best be described as clubbing attire; she looked like she was a good dancer.
In my room, we had a drink. She laid out the rules for me. It was basically “no rough stuff, use a condom and lube, no anal.” I could live with that. She went on to explain that if I was too big we would have to … I stopped her there. I held my hands about a foot apart and told her I was this long. Unperturbed, she considered this and started to explain what we had to do. I interrupted again and told her it was no problem; I would just fold my dick in half. She gave me a suspicious look. I laughed, telling her I was joking.
We soon got busy. She was half undressed when she dropped to her knees and started working my zipper. She pulled out the little wombat and gave a couple of long slow sucks. She pulled back and stroked, “What’s this?” she said. I looked down and saw a bit of red lipstick on the side of my dick. Well, if she didn’t put it there …
Upon closer examination, I discovered that I was bleeding! It was the tiniest of cuts, barely a pinprick, but in my turgid state, it was enough. The only possible explanation was that I managed to nick myself in the shower earlier as I shaved my nuts. She accepted this but expressed genuine disappointment. She said she really liked sucking cock and it wasn’t as much fun with a condom.
While she got the condom from her purse, I pulled off the rest of my clothes, then stripped her naked. She insisted that she keep her high heels on. I was happy to oblige. As I sat on the edge of the bed, she knelt between my legs and started sucking.
She paused after a few moments and had me move to the corner of the bed. She repositioned the full-length door mirror in my room and came back. “Now you can watch,” she said with a grin. She bent over to resume her blowjob. I was afforded an excellent view of her delightful ass and lean legs as she went down on me. You gotta love a gal who loves her work!
After several minutes of this, I told her I wanted to return the favor. She climbed up on the bed, got on all fours and put her ass in the air. I’d never eaten out a chic this way, so it threw me off my usual technique. I soon discovered, however, that it was a welcome change.
I moved her into a sixty-nine position and enjoyed her oral technique again. It also gave me some more opportunity to do some exploration with my hands. Her skin was every bit as smooth as a Thai girl’s. She was also remarkably fit, not an inch of pinchable fat.
I instructed her to straddle me. She turned around and lowered herself down. “Oh, yeah,” I said with a smile, “that’s gooood.” She started off slowly and worked up to a good rhythm while I held on to her heels. When she got tired, she tried to get me to roll over. I had her put her head down and did some of the work myself.
After a while, I grabbed her ass and roller her over into missionary. When I pinned her arms above her head, she really got into it. Later, I pulled her feet behind my head and kept going. She asked me if I liked her shoes. “Oh, yeah!” I replied.
I ended up coming sooner than I had planned. I was really into it and just let myself go. I stayed inside her as long as I could. When I pulled out, she commented on the volume. Quite frankly, I was impressed too; I usually don’t come that much.
She was a bit hesitant about my offer of a massage, but stretched out on the bed and let me go to work. It was a pleasure to knead her muscles; and she was quite appreciative of my skills.
She told me she got started in this business only a few months earlier. Her boyfriend (or possibly husband) had become quite successful. It had gone to his head and she didn’t like it. So, she left him. She knew a little old lady who ran an upscale courtesan service. She learned the ropes and went to work. When the old lady retired shortly thereafter, she moved to a different agency. Unlike most of the girls, she drives herself around. She appreciates the independence but relies on the agency to look out for her.
We took a shower together and she got ready for her next client. I had left some money on the table beside my door. She didn’t so much as glance at it when she arrived, but picked it up when she hinted at payment afterward. She quickly counted it and discovered I’d overpaid by ten bucks. She started digging in her purse for change. Even when I told her to keep it, she continued looking. I had in insist that she keep the tip. She promised to make it up to me next time. I told her I would certainly be seeing her again. She gave me a nice long kiss as she left. Mmmm.
Now the punch line: I waited too many weeks too write up my report. I’ve also managed to lose my notes. I can’t remember the girl’s name or from which agency she came from! I’m pretty sure it was Jessy from Jardins de Madison, but it bugs me that I have to make a lot of phone calls to find her again.