ESCORT BROOKS IBIZA ADVENTURE XXX
“Lads’ Holiday in Ibiza Ends with Escort Brooks Adventure”
In the sun-soaked, hedonistic haven of Ibiza, four British lads were enjoying their post-university, final fling before embarking upon the trials and tribulations of the real world. Spender, Chad, Dave and Simon, or “The responsibility-free gang,” as they affectionately referred to themselves, had amassed a sizable kitty through two summer jobs each. They had decided to blow it all on one last blowout in the Balearic islands, where hangovers, regrets, and guilt were all seemed to be frowned upon.
The lads had spent the past fortnight cruising the island’s shores, getting obliterated on every cocktail known to man, and rubbing their privileged young shoulders with shady DJs, supermodels, and wannabe VIPs. However, their holiday had been one sadly devoid of the female attention it so loudly and arrogantly begged for. Asking around, they discovered a little-known truth: Ibiza’s prettiest women preferred to spend their time shacking up with the island’s smokiest men—propeller headed Spanish aristocrats with homes the size of football fields and bank accounts the size of aircraft carriers. The British bros found themselves persona non grata with the rest of the fairer sex, who seemed irritated by their monotonous “We’re British, so we’re better than you” banter.
One fateful afternoon, after failing yet again to pull an attractive Spanish señorita, the boys stumbled upon a flyer on the beach for a special excursion. On it, the sultry face of Hannah Brooks stared back at them, above an array of mouth-watering facts and figures. The twenty-four-year-old Londoner, or as she was more commonly known, one of Britain’s worst kept secrets and the undisputed “MILF” figurehead, was offering her best services for one lucky group of bright young men. The flyer promised all sorts of unforgettable experiences, all within the safe confines of this British girl-next-door’s room. However, the rate was steep: £2000 for a two-hour stint with the Bros. The boys reversibly, after a moment’s hesitation, quickly pooled their meagre funds, arriving just in the nick of time for Hannah’s “fuck-off” party.
And so, our four would-be stallions entered Hannah’s chambers that evening, motivated by pure lust and the need to feel like winners one last time before giving up on their hedonistic lifestyle. As they entered the candlelit room, Hannah stood before them, resplendent in a skimpy navy-blue bodysuit that barely contained her assets. Her eyes were heavy with makeup, her blonde hair done up in a messy bun. She looked exactly like she did in her countless pap shots—an irresistible temptress.
The brave lads immediately went in for the kill, pulling at her bodysuit with trembling hands. Hannah protested through bouts of flowing laughter, instructing them to take their time and make the most of her “creative company.” She slowly removed her outfit, revealing perky, massive breasts, each crowned with a scarlet areola. To the lads’ delight, they were—that’s what made them popular in Ibiza—completely real. There were no fake silicone implants inside.
Hannah laid back on the bed, putting on a show of spreading her legs wide and moaning like a porn starlet. She was completely shaved, and from her inviting lips down Below, you could see the glisten of her arousal, mere inches from the heads of four over-excited penises. Just as they were about to lunge in, the vixen pulled them back, grabbing a bottle of olive oil.
“Who wants to be first, boys?” she purred, spreading the viscous liquid between the perfect lips of her vulva. Spender eagerly raised his hand, dropping awkwardly on top of her. He stuck his intermediate penis inside, groaning at the tight fit. He humped her wildly, clumsily pounding away at Hannah’s heavenly pussy while she tried not to laugh. After two minutes, Spender slipped out, coughing over a mini-orgasm, and Chad took his place. He had the same performance.
Then it was Dave and Simon’s turn. Simon, the shy one of the group, felt especially awkward getting involved. “Well, might as well embrace it, mate,” Dave reassured him with a wink. “That’s what holidays in Ibiza is for, isn’t it?” Soon, a literary impromptu orgy had broken out on the bed, with the four bros pushing themselves like pigs in a trough, scarcely able to cope with the heat. They all ended up coming embarrassingly fast, the sight of Hannah’s gorgeous body being a huge turn-on. After a quick clean-up, they thanked the madam and prepared to leave, returning to their Ibiza hidey-hole torn between post-coital bliss and immense regret. After all, that special liaison would cost each one a month’s rent back home.
