Not much to dispute in McDuff's review.
I went there last week, tried to book an hour but she only had 30 minutes before her next client.
I shower, Mary comes in, big smile, hello hello. She's pretty skinny and no beauty queen. Not ugly, just real plain.
However, she gets bonus points for service. The massage was decent, but it was hard to tell because it was pretty short. Because she had another client coming in shortly (I think I heard him come in while I was in mid-session, sorry bud), she was a little under the gun to get me to my happy place.
While some MPs might just give you the quick flip and a speed shine to get you out, Mary just knocked off a bit of massage time and went straight to my the Valley of Unearthly Delights (my arse crack). Right off the get go, she stood at my head, grinding her pelvis into my forehead while her thin fingers were fluttering up and down my Grand Canyon while taking many much appreciated detours down Nutsack Road.
Being the seasoned veteran and an astute judge of the female character, I took her humping of my face as a signal that I was welcome to begin my own digital wanderings. Her light summer dress afforded quick and easy access to her hindparts, which I kneaded and squeezed like a happy baker making buns for God.
I think my arching like a cat in heat conveyed the impression that I was open to further exploration of a more probing variety. She swung over to the side and, gentle prod here, a subtle poke there--suddenly she was wearing my bunghole like a hairy engagement ring. Nice to meet ya, Mary.
That just raised my butt right off the table, giving her an easy go at all my dangling bits. With her well-lubed free hand, she reached under my undercarriage and started stroking me, making me feel a bit like a one-teated cow being milked and by a skinny little asian dairy farmer who had aspirations of becoming an animal proctologist. In retrospect, I do believe the sounds I was making was something akin to "moooooooooo."
This went on for a good number of minutes before she disengaged herself from my fundamental orifice (I almost made a champagne cork popping sound with my mouth, but decided against it) and asked me to flip.
She then motioned to the strap holding her dress up which I dutifully untied. OK, let's be frank here. Mary has no tits. None. A saucer of milk lying in Sakatchewan has more bumps on it. But, she's got the hardest-working nipples in show business. Long and erect and --boom-- right in your mouth like little gum drops. Never look a gift nipple in the mouth, I always say, so I suckled away greedily while my barnyard grunts went from bovine to something more porcine.
My right hand is busy working under her dress tugging away at her panties. Without a question, she slips them off and tells me to go slow and no penetration. A-diddling we will go, a-diddling we will go... Oh, is that a bit of wetness I feel on my index finger? Amazing how a bit of snatch dew makes us suddenly feel like the world's greatest lover, eh? It's like when a stripper smiles at you and you lean over to your buddy and say in all drunken earnestness, "I think she likes me!"
With the meter ticking, Mary decides decisive action must be taken to "rectify" the situation. She moves southward and snakes a digit in my Exit Only area. Ah, God bless ya, Mary. I am never one prone to Peter North-like expressions of my happiness, but I did my best mini-Vesuvius impression. Smiles all around.
To clarify somewhat, she never gave me a real prostate massage a la Lilly. You gotta spelunk pretty far down the Brown Gold Mine Shaft to hit that sacred paydirt. This was a one-knuckle-in kinda affair, which, to tell you the truth, left me feeling much less bruised and abused than the full Monty.
Also, no BJ was offered as per lustrider's review, but she seems pretty open minded. I gave her $40 for the topless/bottomless (the dress stayed bunched up around her waist) HJ with butt play which seemed to make her happy. God knows, I was.