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  #241  
Old 04-Oct-18, 16:35
chemdude01 chemdude01 is offline
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Default Re: Arekah Lox reviews

Quote:
Originally Posted by Watschel44 [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
She looks very feminine and not at all muscular therefore it is hard to believe that she could be so strong than many guys have reported.
By the way I am 230 pounds.
That means i am not a easy opponent.
I don't understand how you look at her and think she doesn't look strong!?! She's clearly fit and 5'10" and 205 lbs!?! You have only 25 lbs on her, so I can't imagine there would be a significant strength advantage.

Also, look at powerlifters, throwers, and other 'power' athletes. They are built like Arekah, thick and powerful.

I've never met Arekah, but simply looking at her pictures, to me she looks very, very powerful.

I hope to meet her someday soon.
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  #242  
Old 11-Oct-18, 10:26
paper paper is offline
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Default Re: Arekah Lox reviews

The Arekah Lox Experience

Good news. Arekah Lox from SessionGirls.com is travelling!

Great, I thought. Another email telling me Arekah was travelling to New York or Chicago or Pittsburgh or Washington bloody DC. I’d probably have to travel a few thousand miles if I ever wanted to meet her. This red-haired fantasy Amazon would remain just that – a fantasy. But I scrolled down anyway and I saw... Manchester. Manchester, England. Could she be coming to.... yes, she was coming to London.

Since getting interested in sessions again I’d spent months waiting, gazing at pictures, reading all the reviews about the beauty and the brutality, the burst blood vessels and bruised ribs. And then there were the posts saying she probably wasn't going to travel to Europe again.

But no, here it was in black and white: Arekah was coming to London.

There was just one problem, though: she'd be there, but I wouldn't. I'd be on a family holiday. I can't lie - for a brief moment I wondered whether I could change my dates, make up some kind of work commitment. But if there's one thing you don't mess with, it's my wife's holiday plans. So I had to put my fantasies back in a box and wait.

I retured to waiting for the travel update emails, and every day, I did what a lot of us do, checking that beige web page with the blue font: wb270, the Europe travelers section. And then, a couple of long months later, there she was again, Arekah Lox in Manchester. Scroll down. London too. Check calendar. I'm free. Compose email…

…but wait a minute. It's not that simple.

In between the reviews, the pages and pages of them, are the recurring posts complaining about unreturned messages and multiple attempts to arrange a session met with agonising silence. So I carefully crafted a brief, to the point message (yes, I can write short things too…), making it clear I wasn't just fishing for pictures or trying to engage in chit chat. I wanted to book a session on a specific date and nothing more. I sent the email and then I waited.

And waited.

A few years ago, I was in Berlin with friends. Around 1.a.m., on our second night, I snuck off, got a taxi and made the trip to Berghain. This is a legendary club in an old power station that some say is the best in the world. There's just one problem: Sven is the club's notorious doorman who imposes a mysterious policy that ensures only a small fraction of those queuing actually gain entry to the club. I queued for over three hours in the cold. But it took Sven just a few seconds to wave me away and that was the end of my attempt to party in the best club on earth.

And now here I was, waiting for a response from the woman many say is the greatest session provider of all time. They say that Sven never forgets a face and if he's turned you down once, he'll keep doing it. I got the feeling that one poorly received email to Arekah meant I'd also be out in the cold forever. The only thing that gave me hope were the comments people made about her waiting to schedule appointments until she's close to the date of travel. So I waited patiently for six days then sent a follow up email.

And waited again.

I’d like to say I only checked my email once or twice a day, but you wouldn’t believe that, would you? And obviously the prospect of not being able to see her just made me want to see her even more.

Then one morning, bleary eyed, I checked my inbox and there it was, a message from Arekah thanking me for my patience and specifying availability. I quickly paid my deposit and we set up a two hour session at a convenient time. I was in! And I will say this: once you've proven yourself to be genuine, Arekah is a great, friendly communicator - you can hear her voice in the emails, and she makes sure you tell her what you want. Which meant it was her turn to wait because I had to spend two weeks writing and revising the email with my requests for our 2 hours together.

My preparation for the session was, shall we say, sub-optimal. I was having a tough time at work and there was building work going on at my house, which isn't much fun when you have two small kids and you have to spend the weekends dragging them around the shops to look at tiles and carpets and furniture. (What’s worse than going to IKEA? I’ll tell you: going to IKEA and having to deal with a three year old who’s crapped herself.) I wasn't sleeping well and I felt pretty run down. On top of that, I spent what little spare time I had at the weekend doing one more read through of all the reviews across different sites, including the ones describing the bruises and burst blood vessels. So, when the Monday of our session arrived I felt tired and terrified. I even had a dream the night before, a classic anxiety dream where I turned up for a writing class late and I couldn't think of anything to write and the teacher was furious with me and that teacher was actually Arekah. I sometimes feel nervous before a session, but this was something else!

However it wasn’t just her reputation that scared me – there was also a self-inflicted source of concern. In my email, I’d asked Arekah to be a “stone cold sadistic torturer.” Now, as any internet troll will tell you, it’s easy to crank out some big talk on your keyboard. It’s quite a different matter to give that kind of instruction to someone who exceeds your bodyweight by 35% and is in the business of hurting people when they give her permission.

Looking back, it’s clear that I’d fallen victim to a classic scary story about a mythical monster, like a kid who believes an urban legend. I don’t know the exact reasons why Arekah isn’t on twitter and features in hardly any videos. But that lack of direct access means most of the information about her comes second hand - reviews, but also rumour and speculation. It creates doubts and contradictions. What’s she really like? Is she going to take things too far? Is she going to hurt me?

And I have to tell you, walking into the hotel room didn't put me at ease. Arekah is BIG. Many have documented her height in heels. But there's more. Everything is big: thighs, hair, boobs, shoulders, arms, torso. In fact, I’m surprised that so many people refer to her thighs. Not because they aren’t impressive, but there are plenty of women with legs that perhaps don’t match Arekah’s for both length and thigh size, but at least look big and strong enough to do some serious squeezing. No, what sets Arekah apart is her upper body. If she’d grown up in this country, she would have been a rugby player. Perhaps in terms of depth, i.e. belly button to spine, she and I have similar sized waists. It’s just that hers is four or perhaps even six inches wider from size to the other. Her back is thick and her shoulders are broad. From photos you just don’t get a sense of the scale. It’s like there’s a blip in her DNA, a piece of misplaced genetic code that multiplied everything by 1.5.

So now I was face to face with this mythical woman and she was actually a hell of a lot bigger than I expected – physically but also in terms of personality. She has presence, charisma and ego in abundance. I don’t remember ever feeling so intimidated. There were no wisecracks coming from me, just shock and awe.

I'd actually requested that we have a couple of minutes to chat before we got down to business. I didn’t want her to pounce on me straight away. And she respected that, although she was still partly in character – we briefly talked about her travel plans and a couple of minor modifications I wanted to make to the session, but she also made it clear that I was a skinny man and she was going to crush me. It was almost like there was an internal battle going on – she wanted to honour my requests, but she was also desperate to tear me apart.

In my emails I’d said that I love to be dominated, but after 30 or 40 minutes of full-on scissoring and a KO or two I’m usually done and have to ask for a more gentle pace. So I suggested that Arekah switch between the stone cold sadist and a more gentle persona through the session. And, in a way, that’s what happened. But I’d say she went back to the source – the desire for a more extended period of torture. For around 80 minutes without a break, she ground me down and turned me into a victim of abuse. She let me tap for air in smothers as I’d asked, but there was nothing I could do in her scissors and there was no safe word (also at my request). After a while I shed a couple of tears. Not, I think, just due to the pain or to the sense of helplessness and fear I felt, but also because I thought those tears might make her stop hurting me. But I lacked any ability to influence my fate. I begged, I screamed, I squealed and gurgled. I waved my hands and thrashed around and panicked. And still the ordeal continued. She used just the right level of pressure to keep me feeling an unbearable level of discomfort without knocking me out or finishing me off.

I told myself that I just had to hang in there, get out of that room and never see her again.

Another dumb thing I said in my email was that I love bodyscissors and reverse head scissors. Duh! If sessions ever became illegal, Arekah could earn money crushing scrap metal between her thighs or torturing political prisoners. I told her she was turning my insides into paté. “I hate paté,” she replied and squeezed harder to turn them into gravy. My small waist meant she could get me wedged in between her upper thighs and just crush me like she was crushing a beer can in her fist. And then there were the head scissors. From the rear, it felt like the muscles were emerging from her thighs like two thick cables, the kind that support bridges, to strangle me. And from the front it was even worse – it seemed like she was trying to pull my head off and take the muscles of my upper back with it. “Please, no more scissors,” I said. “How about an arm bar?” she replied. Oh yes, that would buy me some time. I have reasonable strength in my upper body and can sometimes resist arm bars for a while. Not this time though. I don’t think she even utilised technique and leverage to overcome my resistance – she just used her even greater strength and yanked my arm to get a tap in a few seconds.

On top of the physical punishment there was the trash talking. She spent pretty much the whole time telling me what she was going to do to me, calling me skinny man, bony man and, when I made the appropriate shrieking noises, monkey man. She said she’d like to scissor me in public, how she’s always fantasised about killing a man, how nobody knew where I was. I had to say I was her bitch boy, I had to kiss various parts of her body. Then she pinned me on the bed face down and humped me, all the while continuing with the insults and threats.

So, as you can imagine, after getting comprehensively crushed and smothered and tormented, I was finally done. I said I wanted to be broken, and that’s what she’d achieved. Looking back, it was almost unbelievable how different I was. I became a passive and vulnerable person – a weak lump of tearful skin and bone.

The final half hour of the session was a lot more friendly, which was very welcome! But there were still a couple of things that blew my mind. We chatted about sessions and sports (Arekah displayed some unexpected knowledge of the England football team), her background in volleyball and basketball, as well as talking about kicking men in the balls… When we got on to the topic of her grip strength, though, I remembered that I really wanted a game of mercy. I know a lot of guys like to arm wrestle, but there’s something about standing face to face and holding hands while trying to dominate with upper body strength that I really enjoy. And oh boy, Arekah absolutely annihilated me three times in a row. Most session wrestlers have stronger legs than me, but might merely match me in the upper body. Arekah and I are the same height and I’d say I have average sized hands for a man of my size. Hers were bigger. And with those broad shoulders and that thick back she is an absolute powerhouse. I think I could have an entire session with her that didn’t involve scissors, just have her chase me around an apartment, push me, ragdoll me, squeeze me with those big powerful hands… We briefly ‘wrestled’ too. I put that word in inverted commas because I actually mean she just came at me like a truck and flattened me. With more space than a little London hotel room provides, we could have a lot of terrifying fun.

The second thing that blew my mind? We talked about her dominant nature. “Were you the sort of girl who liked to fight the boys?” I asked. “I could have kicked your ass when I was fourteen years old,” she replied. I’ll just let you all think about that scenario…

Looking back, this is probably the part of the session that left the greatest impression on me. I have to say I find Arekah fascinating. Generally, I’m not a good listener. I like to voice my opinions, crack jokes and be the centre of attention. But in this case, I wanted to hear all about her.

Engaging in these conversations at the end of a session can be a little like selling things door to door. Sometimes the door is closed before we can start our pitch, but occasionally we get invited in for a cup of tea. Every once in a while one of us sells the full set of encyclopedias. I’d say I was allowed to step into the hallway and drink a glass of water before being sent on my way. And when you think about it, it’s pretty damn strange that you would pay someone money to hurt you and then want to casually shoot the breeze with them afterwards. There’s probably something to be said for keeping things 100% in the role play, preventing any reality from diluting the fantasy. And yet, for me, getting to know Arekah a tiny little bit did nothing to damage the myth. I mean what better origin story for this Wonder Woman/Incredible Hulk hybrid than being raised on a farm, going to college on a sports scholarship and then discovering her power over men?

It was also at this point that I really noticed how beautiful Arekah is. I suppose for the first three quarters of the session I’d spent a lot of time with my eyes closed, trying to deal with pain. And also, the level of abuse I seek means I’m not exactly in a romantic mood when getting dominated. But now it was almost as though I was looking at a different person – all the same physical attributes were there, as well as the magnetic personality, but there was a lot more charm and a lot less threat. A friendly smile rather than the devilish grin of someone who’s about to devour you.

But the lines were still blurred. The Arekah who was crushing me and the Arekah who was now smiling at me are, I think, overlapping personalities. We joked about how her bodyscissors had rearranged my internal organs. But actually, what she’s done is rearrange the contents of my skull. Sessions are a fantasy. But the people who provide them are real. And yet I think Arekah, the real person (she’s gotta be called Erica Salmon, right?) is no ordinary person. She has superhuman strength and the type of presence you might expect from the modern day gods so many of us worship – celebrities and professional sports people. And this was the thing that scrambled my grey matter. There are people who do this just for the money, or perhaps they like the sporting element. But there are others for whom this is a natural extension of their personalities. And that’s where the lines between reality and fantasy get blurred. When you’re confronted with someone who is both real and unreal, your mind can’t cope!

I know that people like to make lists from time to time. Who has the strongest scissors, who’s the most competitive wrestler, who is simply the best session provider of all time. I can’t make a definitive judgement on that. But what I can say is that, as well as natural gifts, greatness requires effort. To be great, you have to aspire to greatness. And I think it takes a certain degree of self-belief, confidence, perhaps even arrogance to think you can be the number one at what you do. And here’s the thing. Arekah was born with the body and she developed the right attitude, the will to win - to dominate. Exactly where the role play character and the real person begin and end I couldn’t say. But the impression I got is that she wants to be the very best – I expect when confronted with someone 50 or a 100lbs heavier than me, someone with some real grappling skills, she’ll dig incredibly deep to beat them. But more than that, I suspect she wants to be the very best fantasy woman any of us ever meet, the number one session provider on the planet.

She has the desire to be the greatest. But is she? Well, I have my own opinion, but that’s really a question you can only answer for yourself.

For the sake of my ribs and my brain, I think I should probably stay well way from this beautiful, fascinating, terrifying woman. But I know that I won’t. That is, I’ll see her again if she replies to my emails…
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  #243  
Old 11-Oct-18, 15:09
Cap9900 Cap9900 is offline
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Default Re: Arekah Lox reviews

Quote:
Originally Posted by paper [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
The Arekah Lox Experience

Good news. Arekah Lox from SessionGirls.com is travelling!

Great, I thought. Another email telling me Arekah was travelling to New York or Chicago or Pittsburgh or Washington bloody DC. I’d probably have to travel a few thousand miles if I ever wanted to meet her. This red-haired fantasy Amazon would remain just that – a fantasy. But I scrolled down anyway and I saw... Manchester. Manchester, England. Could she be coming to.... yes, she was coming to London.

Since getting interested in sessions again I’d spent months waiting, gazing at pictures, reading all the reviews about the beauty and the brutality, the burst blood vessels and bruised ribs. And then there were the posts saying she probably wasn't going to travel to Europe again.

But no, here it was in black and white: Arekah was coming to London.

There was just one problem, though: she'd be there, but I wouldn't. I'd be on a family holiday. I can't lie - for a brief moment I wondered whether I could change my dates, make up some kind of work commitment. But if there's one thing you don't mess with, it's my wife's holiday plans. So I had to put my fantasies back in a box and wait.

I retured to waiting for the travel update emails, and every day, I did what a lot of us do, checking that beige web page with the blue font: wb270, the Europe travelers section. And then, a couple of long months later, there she was again, Arekah Lox in Manchester. Scroll down. London too. Check calendar. I'm free. Compose email…

…but wait a minute. It's not that simple.

In between the reviews, the pages and pages of them, are the recurring posts complaining about unreturned messages and multiple attempts to arrange a session met with agonising silence. So I carefully crafted a brief, to the point message (yes, I can write short things too…), making it clear I wasn't just fishing for pictures or trying to engage in chit chat. I wanted to book a session on a specific date and nothing more. I sent the email and then I waited.

And waited.

A few years ago, I was in Berlin with friends. Around 1.a.m., on our second night, I snuck off, got a taxi and made the trip to Berghain. This is a legendary club in an old power station that some say is the best in the world. There's just one problem: Sven is the club's notorious doorman who imposes a mysterious policy that ensures only a small fraction of those queuing actually gain entry to the club. I queued for over three hours in the cold. But it took Sven just a few seconds to wave me away and that was the end of my attempt to party in the best club on earth.

And now here I was, waiting for a response from the woman many say is the greatest session provider of all time. They say that Sven never forgets a face and if he's turned you down once, he'll keep doing it. I got the feeling that one poorly received email to Arekah meant I'd also be out in the cold forever. The only thing that gave me hope were the comments people made about her waiting to schedule appointments until she's close to the date of travel. So I waited patiently for six days then sent a follow up email.

And waited again.

I’d like to say I only checked my email once or twice a day, but you wouldn’t believe that, would you? And obviously the prospect of not being able to see her just made me want to see her even more.

Then one morning, bleary eyed, I checked my inbox and there it was, a message from Arekah thanking me for my patience and specifying availability. I quickly paid my deposit and we set up a two hour session at a convenient time. I was in! And I will say this: once you've proven yourself to be genuine, Arekah is a great, friendly communicator - you can hear her voice in the emails, and she makes sure you tell her what you want. Which meant it was her turn to wait because I had to spend two weeks writing and revising the email with my requests for our 2 hours together.

My preparation for the session was, shall we say, sub-optimal. I was having a tough time at work and there was building work going on at my house, which isn't much fun when you have two small kids and you have to spend the weekends dragging them around the shops to look at tiles and carpets and furniture. (What’s worse than going to IKEA? I’ll tell you: going to IKEA and having to deal with a three year old who’s crapped herself.) I wasn't sleeping well and I felt pretty run down. On top of that, I spent what little spare time I had at the weekend doing one more read through of all the reviews across different sites, including the ones describing the bruises and burst blood vessels. So, when the Monday of our session arrived I felt tired and terrified. I even had a dream the night before, a classic anxiety dream where I turned up for a writing class late and I couldn't think of anything to write and the teacher was furious with me and that teacher was actually Arekah. I sometimes feel nervous before a session, but this was something else!

However it wasn’t just her reputation that scared me – there was also a self-inflicted source of concern. In my email, I’d asked Arekah to be a “stone cold sadistic torturer.” Now, as any internet troll will tell you, it’s easy to crank out some big talk on your keyboard. It’s quite a different matter to give that kind of instruction to someone who exceeds your bodyweight by 35% and is in the business of hurting people when they give her permission.

Looking back, it’s clear that I’d fallen victim to a classic scary story about a mythical monster, like a kid who believes an urban legend. I don’t know the exact reasons why Arekah isn’t on twitter and features in hardly any videos. But that lack of direct access means most of the information about her comes second hand - reviews, but also rumour and speculation. It creates doubts and contradictions. What’s she really like? Is she going to take things too far? Is she going to hurt me?

And I have to tell you, walking into the hotel room didn't put me at ease. Arekah is BIG. Many have documented her height in heels. But there's more. Everything is big: thighs, hair, boobs, shoulders, arms, torso. In fact, I’m surprised that so many people refer to her thighs. Not because they aren’t impressive, but there are plenty of women with legs that perhaps don’t match Arekah’s for both length and thigh size, but at least look big and strong enough to do some serious squeezing. No, what sets Arekah apart is her upper body. If she’d grown up in this country, she would have been a rugby player. Perhaps in terms of depth, i.e. belly button to spine, she and I have similar sized waists. It’s just that hers is four or perhaps even six inches wider from size to the other. Her back is thick and her shoulders are broad. From photos you just don’t get a sense of the scale. It’s like there’s a blip in her DNA, a piece of misplaced genetic code that multiplied everything by 1.5.

So now I was face to face with this mythical woman and she was actually a hell of a lot bigger than I expected – physically but also in terms of personality. She has presence, charisma and ego in abundance. I don’t remember ever feeling so intimidated. There were no wisecracks coming from me, just shock and awe.

I'd actually requested that we have a couple of minutes to chat before we got down to business. I didn’t want her to pounce on me straight away. And she respected that, although she was still partly in character – we briefly talked about her travel plans and a couple of minor modifications I wanted to make to the session, but she also made it clear that I was a skinny man and she was going to crush me. It was almost like there was an internal battle going on – she wanted to honour my requests, but she was also desperate to tear me apart.

In my emails I’d said that I love to be dominated, but after 30 or 40 minutes of full-on scissoring and a KO or two I’m usually done and have to ask for a more gentle pace. So I suggested that Arekah switch between the stone cold sadist and a more gentle persona through the session. And, in a way, that’s what happened. But I’d say she went back to the source – the desire for a more extended period of torture. For around 80 minutes without a break, she ground me down and turned me into a victim of abuse. She let me tap for air in smothers as I’d asked, but there was nothing I could do in her scissors and there was no safe word (also at my request). After a while I shed a couple of tears. Not, I think, just due to the pain or to the sense of helplessness and fear I felt, but also because I thought those tears might make her stop hurting me. But I lacked any ability to influence my fate. I begged, I screamed, I squealed and gurgled. I waved my hands and thrashed around and panicked. And still the ordeal continued. She used just the right level of pressure to keep me feeling an unbearable level of discomfort without knocking me out or finishing me off.

I told myself that I just had to hang in there, get out of that room and never see her again.

Another dumb thing I said in my email was that I love bodyscissors and reverse head scissors. Duh! If sessions ever became illegal, Arekah could earn money crushing scrap metal between her thighs or torturing political prisoners. I told her she was turning my insides into paté. “I hate paté,” she replied and squeezed harder to turn them into gravy. My small waist meant she could get me wedged in between her upper thighs and just crush me like she was crushing a beer can in her fist. And then there were the head scissors. From the rear, it felt like the muscles were emerging from her thighs like two thick cables, the kind that support bridges, to strangle me. And from the front it was even worse – it seemed like she was trying to pull my head off and take the muscles of my upper back with it. “Please, no more scissors,” I said. “How about an arm bar?” she replied. Oh yes, that would buy me some time. I have reasonable strength in my upper body and can sometimes resist arm bars for a while. Not this time though. I don’t think she even utilised technique and leverage to overcome my resistance – she just used her even greater strength and yanked my arm to get a tap in a few seconds.

On top of the physical punishment there was the trash talking. She spent pretty much the whole time telling me what she was going to do to me, calling me skinny man, bony man and, when I made the appropriate shrieking noises, monkey man. She said she’d like to scissor me in public, how she’s always fantasised about killing a man, how nobody knew where I was. I had to say I was her bitch boy, I had to kiss various parts of her body. Then she pinned me on the bed face down and humped me, all the while continuing with the insults and threats.

So, as you can imagine, after getting comprehensively crushed and smothered and tormented, I was finally done. I said I wanted to be broken, and that’s what she’d achieved. Looking back, it was almost unbelievable how different I was. I became a passive and vulnerable person – a weak lump of tearful skin and bone.

The final half hour of the session was a lot more friendly, which was very welcome! But there were still a couple of things that blew my mind. We chatted about sessions and sports (Arekah displayed some unexpected knowledge of the England football team), her background in volleyball and basketball, as well as talking about kicking men in the balls… When we got on to the topic of her grip strength, though, I remembered that I really wanted a game of mercy. I know a lot of guys like to arm wrestle, but there’s something about standing face to face and holding hands while trying to dominate with upper body strength that I really enjoy. And oh boy, Arekah absolutely annihilated me three times in a row. Most session wrestlers have stronger legs than me, but might merely match me in the upper body. Arekah and I are the same height and I’d say I have average sized hands for a man of my size. Hers were bigger. And with those broad shoulders and that thick back she is an absolute powerhouse. I think I could have an entire session with her that didn’t involve scissors, just have her chase me around an apartment, push me, ragdoll me, squeeze me with those big powerful hands… We briefly ‘wrestled’ too. I put that word in inverted commas because I actually mean she just came at me like a truck and flattened me. With more space than a little London hotel room provides, we could have a lot of terrifying fun.

The second thing that blew my mind? We talked about her dominant nature. “Were you the sort of girl who liked to fight the boys?” I asked. “I could have kicked your ass when I was fourteen years old,” she replied. I’ll just let you all think about that scenario…

Looking back, this is probably the part of the session that left the greatest impression on me. I have to say I find Arekah fascinating. Generally, I’m not a good listener. I like to voice my opinions, crack jokes and be the centre of attention. But in this case, I wanted to hear all about her.

Engaging in these conversations at the end of a session can be a little like selling things door to door. Sometimes the door is closed before we can start our pitch, but occasionally we get invited in for a cup of tea. Every once in a while one of us sells the full set of encyclopedias. I’d say I was allowed to step into the hallway and drink a glass of water before being sent on my way. And when you think about it, it’s pretty damn strange that you would pay someone money to hurt you and then want to casually shoot the breeze with them afterwards. There’s probably something to be said for keeping things 100% in the role play, preventing any reality from diluting the fantasy. And yet, for me, getting to know Arekah a tiny little bit did nothing to damage the myth. I mean what better origin story for this Wonder Woman/Incredible Hulk hybrid than being raised on a farm, going to college on a sports scholarship and then discovering her power over men?

It was also at this point that I really noticed how beautiful Arekah is. I suppose for the first three quarters of the session I’d spent a lot of time with my eyes closed, trying to deal with pain. And also, the level of abuse I seek means I’m not exactly in a romantic mood when getting dominated. But now it was almost as though I was looking at a different person – all the same physical attributes were there, as well as the magnetic personality, but there was a lot more charm and a lot less threat. A friendly smile rather than the devilish grin of someone who’s about to devour you.

But the lines were still blurred. The Arekah who was crushing me and the Arekah who was now smiling at me are, I think, overlapping personalities. We joked about how her bodyscissors had rearranged my internal organs. But actually, what she’s done is rearrange the contents of my skull. Sessions are a fantasy. But the people who provide them are real. And yet I think Arekah, the real person (she’s gotta be called Erica Salmon, right?) is no ordinary person. She has superhuman strength and the type of presence you might expect from the modern day gods so many of us worship – celebrities and professional sports people. And this was the thing that scrambled my grey matter. There are people who do this just for the money, or perhaps they like the sporting element. But there are others for whom this is a natural extension of their personalities. And that’s where the lines between reality and fantasy get blurred. When you’re confronted with someone who is both real and unreal, your mind can’t cope!

I know that people like to make lists from time to time. Who has the strongest scissors, who’s the most competitive wrestler, who is simply the best session provider of all time. I can’t make a definitive judgement on that. But what I can say is that, as well as natural gifts, greatness requires effort. To be great, you have to aspire to greatness. And I think it takes a certain degree of self-belief, confidence, perhaps even arrogance to think you can be the number one at what you do. And here’s the thing. Arekah was born with the body and she developed the right attitude, the will to win - to dominate. Exactly where the role play character and the real person begin and end I couldn’t say. But the impression I got is that she wants to be the very best – I expect when confronted with someone 50 or a 100lbs heavier than me, someone with some real grappling skills, she’ll dig incredibly deep to beat them. But more than that, I suspect she wants to be the very best fantasy woman any of us ever meet, the number one session provider on the planet.

She has the desire to be the greatest. But is she? Well, I have my own opinion, but that’s really a question you can only answer for yourself.

For the sake of my ribs and my brain, I think I should probably stay well way from this beautiful, fascinating, terrifying woman. But I know that I won’t. That is, I’ll see her again if she replies to my emails…
Great account of your session. I have seen her twice and like you was in awe of her size and strength. Be careful what you ask for with her, because you will get it. I know sometimes my bark is worse than my bite and she will make you pay for that.

She is a beautiful woman. I have always had a thing for red heads.... She is also very nice out of session. Would love to see her again. She was recently in town, but I had to pass on her, because I was already booked with Sara Lips (who has been in my must see list for some time).
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  #244  
Old 11-Oct-18, 20:36
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Default Re: Arekah Lox reviews

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Originally Posted by paper [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
The Arekah Lox Experience

Good news. Arekah Lox from SessionGirls.com is travelling!

Great, I thought. Another email telling me................................................ ................... But I know that I won’t. That is, I’ll see her again if she replies to my emails…
Absolutely awesome review! Loved it. Brought back memories of my own session with Arekah. Thanks!
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Old 12-Oct-18, 03:31
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Default Re: Arekah Lox reviews

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Originally Posted by paper [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
The Arekah Lox Experience

there was nothing I could do in her scissors and there was no safe word... After a while I shed a couple of tears. Not, I think, just due to the pain or to the sense of helplessness and fear I felt...
And still the ordeal continued...
Wonderful review @[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register] , thanks for your great contribution here.

Sadly, this type of intense experience is not one that I shared with Arekah when we wrestled just a few years ago near D.C.. I had brought along an extra large amount of cash in an attempt to allow filming, for my personal use only, as most often. She just wasn't interested, and sadly, I reacted poorly, having had a few beers on the several hour drive up to meet her.

I sort of flopped back on the bed when our match began, and just played resistance. At this point, we just didn't have any good chemistry between us. We wrestled for probably about thirty minutes of our allotted time before I called a pause.

"Let's call this," I said. "You are not making me give, and we aren't doing any sexy holds either." Since further interaction was going to be a bit pointless, I said, we stopped.

As she was dressed, and heading out the door Arekah turned back to me and asked "I didn't make you give, did I?"

"No," I replied, "but that's okay."

"Let me put you in a head scissors," she commanded.

"Alright."

This beautiful woman got on top of me and tucked me into a very tight reverse head scissors. After a pretty short while, I tapped.

Arekah stood up at the end of the bed. "You gave, right?"

"Yes," I shrugged.

"Let me do it again."

This time, the reverse head scissors was very much tighter, and as before she was controlling my arms and body entirely. The pressure and the pain continued without letup or weakening.

This time, when I submitted, it was much more convincing, both to her and also to myself. The Amazon Warrior was just not going to leave the hotel room until she was absolutely sure I had to give.

I challenge my pretty normal type of fair match rules, along with permissions and encouragements to ignore my submissions. Although I didn't put up a separate cash bonus this time, I still offer my opponents to force me to sustained and authentic crying through desperation and pain. I thought that Arekah might be the one to do it, but my stubbornness, pride, and foolishness kind of got in the way.

It makes me imagine what could have happened.
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