After my first experience with an escort it was clear to me that everything the world of "punting" had to offer was now open to me. I could go back to the Indian girl for some guaranteed fun but I worried that if my sex life with my wife went back to normal perhaps I wouldn't be able to break away from the punting scene and would continue to want to do a little "exploring". I felt it might be better to use punting as a way of living out my fantasies and with my birthday approaching and my top fantasy being sex with two girls at the same time that struck me as a good move.
As luck would have it two girls with seemingly fantastic figures and good reviews were advertising an hour long duo date for £240. I made a booking a week in advance but unfortunately when I confirmed on the day they had obviously forgotten it completely and I had to re-book for the following week. We swapped a few emails that were chatty and fun and I felt relaxed about the visit.
I had booked the afternoon as a half-day off work but told my wife I was working and visiting a customer in the area where the date was to take place. As a result I drove towards the venue for the duo date dressed to kill in suit and overcoat. I pulled up at a motorway services to check myself out, comb my hair and freshen my breath (no cologne this time as I had to go back to her indoors after and she would be suspicious as I don't normally wear cologne), and get my maps ready, then had a severe attack of the nerves. What on earth was I doing planning to have sex with two women at the same time? How would I cope? I was a newbie to punting and I had thrown myself into the sexual deep-end. I steeled myself to the prospect and continued on my journey.
I got hopelessly lost on the way to the venue. Fortunately one of the girls had to drive to the venue herself along the same route so after giving her a call she was able to drive past me in her silver Renault Megane and I was able to follow her. She looked very attractive in her car - pretty, Italianate face with masses of black hair.
We drove up to the house where the action was to take place. It was in a council estate on the edge of a town that was the worse the wear for long-term high unemployment, steeped in that kind of dull grey depression that sink estates reflect from their occupants. Each house seemed to have the obligatory car-wreck on one side, usually chocked up with its wheels removed. Once again I felt over-dressed. The girl got out of her car in front of me and walked towards the house. She was a big girl and had obviously had a baby - a big baby I would say, maybe 13lbs. Her belly, now devoid of the usual abdominal muscle, had taken on a life of its own, and was left unfettered thanks to a shortie top and hipster jeans. Normally I would have turned away at this point, revolted by the jelly-like blobby mass above her hips, but hell, I wasn't planning on making her a trophy bride and she was pretty enough from the neck up. What worried me more was getting to grips with a woman several stone heavier than me - especially as there was another girl waiting inside the house, of proportions unknown!
The girl had gone through the door obviously to have a quiet chat with her friend, leaving it to shut-to behind her. The door was missing most of its paint and had been the victim of a violent attack at some point, looking as battered and bruised as a door can. For a moment I wondered if I really wanted to go through that door, to examine the depressing scene of inner city poverty at close quarters.
Next installment: A duo date continued.