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[AnDy1501]

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[badboyz]

Arabian Instrument Spa: A Saga of Fang, Frolic, and... Negotiation?​

Ah, the trials and tribulations of the weary spa-goer. Strap yourselves in, ladies and gents, for this tale has everything: delays, negotiations, and a few rather unorthodox massage techniques. And, of course, a Thai masseuse named Fang. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

The Agony of Agnes​

It all began, as these stories often do, with high hopes and expectations. I rang up the Arabian Instrument Spa, eager to book Agnes. Agnes, you see, is the Michelangelo of massages—her hands, pure artistry. However, much to my dismay, she’d taken a one-way ticket to Bangkok and wouldn’t be back for a month. My heart sank. Plan B? TTS Spa. But alas, they were fully booked. My hopes of a therapeutic evening were slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. What was left? My old faithful—Arabian Instrument. Not ideal, but when in need...

So, I trudged on over, paid the 3K at the counter, and asked for a lineup of available talent. What followed was something I can only describe as a waiting room purgatory. The boy tasked with fetching the pictures seemed to be on some kind of quest—possibly to Narnia. By the time he returned, I was a shadow of my former self.

The grand reveal? One Thai girl named Fang. I blinked. That was it? No lineup, no options—just Fang. The boy, eager to see me smile again, assured me in his finest sales pitch: “Service achi hai inki.” Translation: She’s good. I had little choice, so I nodded in reluctant approval. It was time to meet Fang.

Enter Fang: A Massage with Extras​

Now, Fang walks in, all 26-28 years of her, sporting a curvy figure with “meat in all the right places” as they say. T-shirt on, her assets weren't immediately obvious, but my keen eye knew there was more to come.

The massage began. I won’t lie—by Thai standards, it wasn’t anything to write home about. But here’s where it got interesting: from the very first stroke, Fang wasn’t just massaging—oh no, she was rubbing. And I don’t mean your average elbow grease, no sir. She was rubbing her entire body on me, and within moments, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a textbook massage.

I had signed up for a rubdown and was now inadvertently in the midst of a clothed body-to-body experience. After about 20 minutes of this oddly sensual dance, Fang moved on to what can only be described as the finest bum massage I’ve ever experienced. She worked her magic there for 10 full minutes. After that, there was no holding back. It was time for the real fun.

The Negotiation and the Grand Reveal​

Naturally, I inquired about the menu. Fang, a businesswoman at heart, quoted me 8K for FS. I, ever the negotiator, countered with a cool 6K, and after a brief exchange, we settled on 6.2K (what can I say, she was persuasive). Money exchanged, it was time to strip down to the essentials.

And what a revelation! Under that modest T-shirt, Fang had been hiding an absolutely magnificent pair of breasts—big, soft, and paired with nipples that could practically cut glass. I was, to put it mildly, thrilled. I got to work immediately, and let’s just say, Fang didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, she was rather enjoying herself.

We kissed passionately, exchanged tongues like lovers in an old romance novel, and then moved on to the main event. Fang gave me a sloppy BBBJ that left nothing to be desired—she even paid proper attention to the balls, which, as we all know, can sometimes be a bit of a forgotten art.

Then came the missionary, and lads, let me tell you—Fang was tight. It was a delightful surprise, and she was clearly into it, urging me to take it slow with each thrust. But as the evening wore on, we grew bolder. The doggy position was next on the menu, and that’s when I got a bit... experimental.

Grabbing some oil, I ventured into uncharted territory. Fang initially protested—“Not there! Only pussy, please!”—but my enthusiasm was hard to resist. Before long, she too began to enjoy the, ahem, dual-wielding action. And that view? Chef’s kiss. It wasn’t long before the fireworks went off, and we both finished in a glorious, oily crescendo.

Showering, Secrets, and the Tight Truth​

Afterward, we shared a shower, where I casually asked if she was new to the spa. Turns out, this was only her second day on the job. Suddenly, the tightness made sense. A fresh recruit to the spa scene. I, of course, tipped generously for her efforts—one simply must reward talent.

So there you have it, folks. Fang may have started as the last option on a slow day, but she delivered one of the best experiences I’ve had in quite some time. I daresay, next time, she might even be up for some more adventurous activities.

Until then, keep your wallets light, your expectations flexible, and remember—sometimes the best things come when you least expect them.

Cheers!

I’m talking life-changing, jaw-dropping, "I-can’t-believe-this-is-actually-happening" kind of magic. It's not just the best in India; it’s the kind of encounter that will haunt your dreams—in a good way.

I guarantee it'll be the best story you never tell.

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[sanjaykav]

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[Mit rao]

Location: Kandivali
Looks : 4/10
Very hard to satisfy her
Tried once and i was tired but she still wanted to more

plz share her number dude