“OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS”
With a very watchful SO, my trips into Flushing these days have to be planned and are usually fraught with deceit and subterfuge in order to receive my carnal comforts.
But, not yesterday. Handed to me on a silver platter, I was ordered by my SO, to go into Flushing and spiffy myself up with a long-overdue haircut to look presentable for an expensive dinner party. And, also, to purchase approximately ten Flushing items, that are indigenous to that little hub, like black-skinned soup chicken, and other culinary herbs, spices and goods.
I complained about the mission, (an old monger’s throw’em off the track ploy) just to camouflage my sheer delight and excitement, knowing that there are some serious pleasures for myself at the tail end of those chores.
Anyway, hit the Roosevelt and Main area, loaded up a knapsack with those rare grocery items, got a ten dollar haircut, quicker than greased lightening.
Calmed myself down for the search down 40th Road. At around 4:00 PM in the area, about eight ladies, all bundled up in clothing, masks, gloves, hats, boots like Eskimos, as if they were in the midst of a cruel winter freeze. Makes it very difficult to determine body types.
Did my first pass through, making eye contacts. Looped around again, narrowing the search to three ladies, only using the two remaining parts of their bodies not concealed, eyes and hair, along body vitality.
Anyway, decided on one with good vibes. Tried to speak to her and just got a dead stare. She had zero English. She looked to a nearby older woman that seemed to be an outdoors mamasan of sorts. Seems like she had some authority, or maybe just acted as translator for the lady with no English.
The older woman who acted like the younger’s manager, quoted $100. I gave her a WTF look and she quickly discounted it to $80. I gave her a somewhat appeased but equally intense stare-down, and told her that I know the prices and I won’t ask for $40, but I will give $60. I’ve been coming to this area for over40 years. She happily agreed and gave my lady a nod and the young lady perked up happily at the opportunity.
Began the journey up the stairs, spoke a little Chinese to her while climbing and she felt comfortable, shined a giddy happy girly smile.
Upstairs, crowded, curtained-off rooms with two other mongers engaged in their “work.” Might as well tear down the curtains and make it an all-out orgy.
My girl was sweet, and possibly the name was like “Shirley,” but it wasn’t. Took off her coat, and wow, young, early 30’s, bountiful breasts and hips in jeans. I could not help from being a kid in a candy shop, with her fully clothed, grabbing, squeezing, climbing, embracing. She giggled and liked the playful enthusiasm of this old boy acting like a teenager.
Took off her clothes. Oh my God. Curves, curves and more curves. Beautiful, delightful, young, fleshy voluptuous woman; not fat at all, but pleasantly plump.
And she can only be described by the following word and definition: “zaftig”
“A zaftig bride.
Zaftig describes a woman who is attractively curvy. ... having a full, rounded figure; plump (typically used of a woman). The word comes from the Yiddish zaftik, which literally means "juicy," from zaft, or "juice," and it became a common English adjective in the 1930s.”
I digress.
Moving right along, extremely accommodating with everything covered for all acts, the only way I do it. (never inquired about raw, rimming, or anal. not my thing) She was a frolicking, loving, happy, appreciative young lady from beginning to end, about 25 minutes.
I usually only choose spinners, but her Asian petite version of “zaftig” afforded me so many delightful pink fleshiness to explore and enjoy. A veritable playground. Lots of fun.
Upon leaving, she sweetly bowed, gave me a hug, and gave me a fresh clean mask to hit the streets with.
My name for her “zaftig Shirley,” not to compete with Genius’s “girl in the pleated skirt,” who is about as elusive as a yeti.