Baker Street Escort
Which Baker Street escort?
Baker Street, the London epicenter of mid-priced escorts. Truly, it's rivaled only by Chelsea Cloisters! I kid you not, almost every other basement flat plays host a den of iniquity of one kind or another. It's not a particularly beautiful area, but, it is incredibly well connected (which is why so many escorts work in the area).
So, when you find yourself in Baker Street with time on your hands, and Google points the way to no less than 200 escorts within a half-mile radius, how exactly do you go about picking a playmate?
I suggest it really rather depends on what you are looking for (obviously). Enjoy sensual seduction? You may just have stumbled upon the best Baker Street escort for super sensual and incredibly intimate encounters (no BDSM, no fetish, no fake GFE).
Something like This?
Press your lips gently against mine and feel my smile. Feel the little dimples at the corners of my mouth, feel my lips part, opening for you. Feel the little gasp that escapes unbidden and exhale a soft breath as we press our lips together, breathing into me, not quiet kissing but brushing intimately against each other.
I want to kiss you deeply and I want you incredibly slowly because lingering in the movement is ridiculously provocative. I'm making myself wet with anticipation, taunting myself as much as I am exciting you.
Let me nibble your lower lip and run the tip of my tongue slowly around. Smile with me, breathe in my perfume and relax your shoulders as I nuzzle my face against yours, burying myself into the crook of your neck and placing little kisses there. Fluttering eyelashes against you, impossibly light - barely there which is in apposite contrast to your arm which, at first lightly draped about my waist, is holding me tightly against you.
I can feel how stiff you have gotten whilst pressing yourself against me. I know you need to be touched but the moment is delicious and I'm not ready just yet. I want to be explored. Let me take your hand and guide you to part the side split in dress. Only a little, just enough to run your hand over my thigh and discover the intricate lace stocking top that you were hoping would be there. Perhaps, being allowed to touch, to simply feel, is a little release in itself?
I would like you to caress and fondle my thigh. Feel the outline of the lace stocking-top. Trace the individual shapes and picture the pattern of the welt giving way to flimsiest of nylon. Stroke me softly, sliding between my legs and around to back of my leg. Let your fingers linger over the suspender straps, the little buckles and their satin ribbons.
My hand will begin to wander too. Over your chest, down across your torso and resting at your belt buckle... A single finger exploring your stiffness through your jeans. Just the lightest of pressure.
And whilst I squirm under your touch, and as your cock throbs against me, I'm imagining your kiss in place of your caresses. The thought, my imagining of you kissing me there is overwhelming and I find, when the flat of your hand slips into the top of my stocking, I need your mouth on mine... really rather urgently.
Kiss me please. Still slowly, but deeply, not lightly, not like before. Now I want to feel your desire. Who will succumb first? Who will whisper 'please take me to bed?'