Ah, Ryushkaโthough to be perfectly honest, her real name escapes me entirely. To me, sheโll always be Ryushka. If memory serves me right (which, letโs face it, it usually doesnโt), we crossed paths on one of those โdom-meets-subโ websites. You know the type: where nine out of ten girls claim theyโre a โsubโ but wouldnโt know submission if it came gift-wrapped with instructions and a user manual. But Ryushkaโah, she was different. I could tell right away that this one actually knew her ropes... pun fully intended.
The first impression? Letโs say she had more of a โresting villainess faceโ than a subservient demeanor. In fact, her profile came complete with her BDSM test results, which, as far as internet validation goes, is practically a PhD. I reached out, and our initial conversations were what Iโd describe as โfrosty.โ Not a cold shoulder per se, but rather an entire cold wardrobe. She later confessed that she wasnโt much for textingโsaid it didnโt suit her. And my word, was she right.
When we finally met, it was a transformation of Dickensian proportions. Gone was the distant, icy persona Iโd encountered online. Instead, I was greeted by someone charming, radiant, andโletโs not forgetโridiculously attractive. We were supposed to meet at a cafรฉ, but the suggestion came up (from her, no less) that my apartment might be a better venue. She stepped out of the taxi, and letโs just sayโฆ my evening was already made.
At my place, things started slowโconversation, drinks, nothing untoward. She did mention she wasnโt into physical stuff on a first meet, which I graciously accepted with the dignity of a saint. Of course, as the night progressed and the wine flowed, weโฆ how shall I put itโฆ stretched the boundaries a little. The evening ended on a high note (well, for me at least), with a lovely bit of kissing and some other recreational activities, the details of which Iโll leave to your imagination. I did refrain from pushing things further, not wanting to come off as some desperate caveman. I have standards, after all.
Our second meet was less public. We started in a coffee shop, but the setting felt tooโฆ ordinary for us. She, being the queen of improvisation, suggested we go to her buildingโan exclusive place in South Bombay where entry was like trying to sneak past Buckingham Palace security. Once inside, she took me to a floor under construction, her private little lair for a bit of privacy and, dare I say, a sneaky joint. Between stolen kisses and the view that could make the Mona Lisa weep, it was the perfect blend of romantic and slightly illegal.
Over time, I realised Ryushka was more โbratโ than subโshe thrived on being a cheeky tease who craved discipline. Naturally, I obliged. We had incredible moments together, each time more intense than the last. I could tell she was more experienced in this whole dom-sub thing than I was, and her little โrequestsโ would leave me both amazed and slightly bewildered at times. She knew what she was doing, and I was happy to follow her lead, like a lost puppy in a world ofโฆ well, letโs not go there.
But all good things come with a priceโliterally. Ryushka was no gold-digger, but she did like her Zara. She didnโt ask for money, mind you, but โa few thingsโ from Zara turned into a shopping spree that could finance a small countryโs GDP. I didnโt bat an eyelid, though. By then, I was so smitten, I couldโve bought the entire store.
Our time together reached its crescendo when she asked to stay over. But this time, her shopping list had tripled, and I quickly realised this wasnโt sustainableโneither for my wallet nor my fragile heart. So, I decided to go for the classic British exit. When she asked for my credit card details to check out her shopping cart, I ghosted her. Poof, gone. I figured it was better she think of me as a tight-fisted git than get too emotionally attached and heartbroken. Call it a pre-emptive strike.
Months later, I stumbled upon her WhatsApp statusโit looked like sheโd settled down with someone. Naturally, I messaged her my congratulations, which she promptly responded to by blocking me. The next thing I knew, her number belonged to someone else entirely.
And that, dear reader, is the end of Ryushka and me. A whirlwind romance filled with Zara bags, under-construction buildings, and lessons learned in love and shopping. Iโll never forget her. Mostly because Iโm still paying off that Zara bill.
Cheers!
Iโm talking life-changing, jaw-dropping, "I-canโt-believe-this-is-actually-happening" kind of magic. It's not just the best in India; itโs the kind of encounter that will haunt your dreamsโin a good way.
I guarantee it'll be the best story you never tell.
Bangalore escorts interview is a true confession of an escort. Bangalore escorts interview is to bring the trueness in escorting world.
www.bangaloregirlfriendsexperience.com