Whenever I browse through London male escort agencies, there is this funny feeling I get. It is the kind of feeling that new lovers usually have when they meet each other. I end up wetting my pants sometimes. I am sure you will be guessing the reason why. Well, there are usually lots of guys in seductive poses to hire.
The list of available guys grows almost every week, and I don’t think I would ever get used to that. I must confess that I have a soft spot for guys with perfect bodies; tall, athletic chest and arms and a broad shoulder. A combination of these is always enough to get me weak in my knees.
Almost all the black guys I have seen have these qualities. You can only imagine the gibberish that goes through my mind each time I walk past them on the street. The problem is that I am never bold enough to talk to any of them. Or maybe I am just scared that I may not be able to handle them. You know that point you are so emotional in a conversation that nothing you say makes sense. That is what I fear the most because I am almost certain that I would get to that point.
I screamed my lungs out the day I flipped through the archives of one of the London male escort agencies and found this black hunk with an oiled bare chest. I am sure the neighbors must have heard my voice. I was jittery, and my hands were shaky as I clicked on the hire button. Finally, I would have a one-on-one private encounter with a black dude. The thought of it alone made my head spin.
I tidied up the room and had my bath in readiness for his arrival. If you see me at that moment, it was as if I was preparing for a big feast. My doorbell rang a couple of hours later, and I was pretty sure he was the one – I mean the black escort I hired from one of the London male escort agencies.
My heart began to race, and my breath stifled. I ghosted across the room to the door and paused, took several deep breaths before I opened the door. The broad smiling baring cream coloured perfect dental set got my knees wobbly. He stretched out his hand for me to shake. When I did, my pant became stained. I couldn’t help it.
“It is a pleasure meeting you”, he said.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words won’t come out. I dived into him in a long embrace. I loved the crushing feeling of those rippling muscles around me. Gradually, I began to get used to him. We began to chat and feel each other’s bodies, and he occasionally lifted me off the ground and swirled me around like a weightless piece of paper.
We later headed for a beach where we tagged together against other couples in different games; volleyball, water ball, and running. We won some and lost others, and I was always his weak link. He would smile at me and give me that encouraging nod.
“With more practice, you will become a great sportswoman”, he teased.
The nearly four hours we spent together seemed like forty minutes. Time surely runs fast when you are having fun. We spent the rest of the evenings in a restaurant trying out dishes from other parts of the world and talking about our personal lives.
Believe me when I tell you that it was one of the best experiences I have ever had. That day was among the few days I have smiled genuinely from my heart. I was literarily blushing like a love-struck teenager. Everything was just perfect. At some point, I even wished we were dating, but I quickly brushed the idea off my mind to avoid hurting myself.
I refused to bade him goodbye because you do that to people you want to leave. I didn’t want to leave him. I have visited London male escort agencies more frequently hoping that I would see another black hunk to hire. There seemed to be a lot of people who want their company.