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Review Candice (Sensual Relax) – Rekindled love affair?

Review Candice (Sensual Relax) – Rekindled love affair?
daok

daok

Veteran
Apr 15, 2025
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Herne Bay Auckland NZ, Las Vegas Nevada USA
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It felt like the perfect moment to rekindle my love affair with @Candicequay in her new environment on this drizzly Auckland evening. The sketchy K Road crowd barely notices as I slip through the discreet (enough) entrance and bound up the stairs. The smiling receptionist, recognising me, takes my cash and guides me up another flight of stairs to the room.

The room is inviting: a large massage table with well-placed holes for comfort, mirrors on either side promising a 'Beauty and the Beast' spectacle, and thoughtful touches like a decanter of water with glasses. But I’ve seen it all before. My focus is on Candice’s unapologetic menu of naughty delights, boldly printed for my perusal.

My reverie shatters with the click of nails on the door as Candice enters. Blonde, with a dancer’s lithe body, flawless skin, and a radiant smile, she lights up the room in her signature red lingerie. But it’s more than her physical beauty; Candice exudes a calm, confident intelligence that I find utterly irresistible in a woman.

I emerge from the shower, and as promised, she is still in her lingerie. We catch up like old friends. She asks about my recent trip to Vegas; I ask about the whys and wherefores of her recent move to SL. I say my shit, and she compares working down in a basement to being up high in SL's superior facilities. Her eyes light up as she shares details of a new venture, which I apparently inspired her to pursue. All the while, I’m marvelling at how familiar we seem with each other, despite this being only our second meeting.

It’s time for us both to be naked and get the sexy stuff rolling. And boy, does it roll. She’s providing the magic and… well, there’s a joke about a wand to be had somewhere. With the extras menu still fresh in my mind, I realise there’s a part of her anatomy I’d like to get more acquainted with – which brings praise for my technique… which I’m of a mind to believe.

Candice is stunning, brilliant, irresistibly sexy, and an absolute joy to be around. During our session, she helped me realise two things. First, my true passion—my kink—is being captivated by extraordinary women who enthral me with their presence while indulging in intimate, uninhibited (dirty) moments together. Second - I’m still in love with Candice.
 
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daok said:
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Who the fuck are you ?

Little dick? That’s rich coming from someone still renting in Grey Lynn. I’ve been too busy final tabling in Macau and signing off on reno plans for the Queenstown pad. You know, juggling hands and houses. But hey, I get it — not everyone gets to turn pocket 7s into seven figures. Missed me
 
nomaorisclub said:
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So, you gonna hook a few brothers up, since you keep telling everyone that you have fat stacks?
You wanna be a legend, or do you just want to blow hard?
Come on player, you keep telling everyone here that you're king dingaling, actions speak louder than words.

Who else is with me?
Anyone else wanna join in the chorus to get big dawg here to step up and be a real bro?
 
Dee said:
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Hook you up? Brother, I’ve already done my part — I’m out here stimulating the local economy one massage table at a time. While you’re passing around the hat like it’s open mic night at a dive bar, I’m comping suites in Vegas and leaving tips that look like down payments.

Step up? I’m already on the penthouse level, sipping whisky older than your best punchline, watching the sun rise over one of the four properties I forgot I owned. But hey — I’ll toss a few chips your way next time I feel charitable… just don’t spend it all on sock puppets and sympathy votes.
 
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Dee said:
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Look, I get it — must be hard watching from the rail while someone else’s stack keeps climbing. But hey, I’ve always said it’s not about flexing, it’s about momentum.

I started playing cards in school halls with a pack held together by rubber bands. Fast forward a couple decades, and I’m stacking chips in Vegas, calling Herne Bay home, and keeping more keys than a piano tuner.

Hookups? Bros, I’ve sent girls home with better parting gifts than some of you have net worths. But this ain’t a charity — it’s a table, and if you want in on the action, bring a stack and a spine.

Until then, keep the chorus going — makes for good background music while I’m counting rental income and choosing which passport to travel on next.
 
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Dee said:
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Ayo relax dawg — I was gonna puff puff pass, but last time I shared, someone tried to roll the blunt with a Westpac receipt and told the girl, “this one’s on laybuy.”

You want a piece of the action? Cool. I’ll let you borrow one of my side girls for the afternoon — she charges mates’ rates if you promise not to mention crypto or your Ford Focus.

But for real, I’d hook a brother up, if I thought you could handle the high-stakes life. You think it’s all private jets and booty rubs, but last week I had to fold pocket aces to a rivered gutshot in Macau while texting two girls to stop fighting over who gets the Herne Bay guest house.

Fat stacks aren’t for show, my guy — they’re for survival out here.

But hey, next round’s on me — just don’t embarrass us by tipping in coins again.
 
nomaorisclub said:
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Naw, I know how it goes G.
When I'm scouting out spots to shoot from, and getting my Irish gunsmith to make me bespoke sniper rifles disguised as medical devices, I just don't have enough time to share any of the 8 figures that I charge the players to get rid of their problems either.
Life's tough when you're at the top of your field ain't it? lol
 
Dee said:
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Another week, another timezone. Woke up this morning not quite sure if I was in Herne Bay or Lake Como, but the espresso was decent so I rolled with it. My phone was already blowing up—three missed calls from my lawyer (something about zoning on the new Waiheke property), a text from Silver asking when I’m flying her out again, and an invite to some high-stakes private game in Macau. Thursday, I think. Might swing by if the jet’s out of maintenance.

The poker tables have been kind lately. Final-tabled three tourneys this month, two of them in Vegas, one in Melbourne—had the rail chanting my name like it was the World Cup. One guy tried to bluff me holding bottom pair. Bless him. I tipped the dealer more than his entire stack.

Back home in Auckland, the neighbours are still trying to figure out how many houses I actually own. They see the Bentley, the Aston, the occasional G-Wagon parked out front and think I’m some retired tech bro. I let them believe it. Less explaining.

I’ve got a chef who only cooks on odd-numbered days, a driver who plays better jazz than most radio stations, and a house manager who coordinates my calendar with a seriousness that borders on military.

And yeah, I still enjoy the thrill of a cheeky punt—call it nostalgia. Reminds me of the early days when I was just a teenage mutt grinding online games on a busted laptop, dreaming of buy-ins and bentleys.

Anyway, I’m off to Monaco this weekend. I promised to show some mates what champagne tastes like when it costs more than a decent hatchback. Life’s busy when you’re in demand, but someone’s gotta do it.
 
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