Candy- A Thai Goddess

Some days deliver the sort of pleasure you would like to bottle and sell for a healthy profit. Other days, well, let’s just say expectations and outcomes part ways like uneasy allies at dawn. This was decidedly the latter.

I try not to be God's gift, despite evidence to the contrary.
Many a time the praise about my width and length has had some poor lady frightened and others drooling.

A visit to an old haunt. Time, tucked along Mary Street, introduced me to Candy. A charming name, though her disposition suggested something with a bit more spice. She appeared with an easy smile, a hint of mischief, a couple of dimples and the sort of presence that suggests she knows exactly the effect she has on a room.

The massage was that of a Thai goddess, hit the right places and followed instructions to a T. Her scent reminded me of the orchids of Udon Thani. The next phase was underway.

But anticipation is a dangerous thing. It builds castles when there are only townhouses. As the encounter drifted toward its inevitable conclusion, it became clear that enthusiasm was not entirely mutual. Plan B was required. Expectations needed management. My size came back to haunt me as I discussed the conclusion to our adventure.

We agreed on a lesser course of arrangement.
Shame, the lead-up where I embraced her delicate orchid with a ravenous tongue was a feast to behold. Her attack on my ample member had her eyes watering as she struggled to devour my engorged phallus. She did her best, but in the end, said her jaw hurt and an alternate finish was required.

And so, what might have been a banquet became a modest supper. Perfectly serviceable, but lacking that final, indulgent flourish one hopes for when the evening begins.
Still, one learns and adapts. If nothing else, one leaves with a story.