NB – This report is out of sequence. The upcoming Italian report was four days earlier.
It wasn’t so long ago I was lamenting to my fellow daygamers that I have nothing going on in London – no solid leads at all. This is the downside of travelling so much. Taking a week off every month for away games disrupts the flow of your home game. So in mid-May I make a firm decision to hit the London streets until I’ve rebuilt a rotation. I have modest goals:
- Three girls on a weekly rotation
- Additional fast sex when the opportunity arises
That’s not too much to ask. My first weekend is unlucky for all the usual reasons – girls have boyfriends or about to catch a flight home and so on. My street patter is ok so I don’t take it personally. Then the next weekend my luck breaks. I do about ten sets, get four numbers and all four hold. First up is a Frenchie idate that doesn’t quite work. Then there’s a black African shopgirl giving me the eye as she walks past on Oxford Street (yes, I actually cop an IOI for a change) so that leads to a date and probably an upcoming blogpost. There’s a nice Chinese girl and then a strong hook from an Italian. I’m pleased.
After closing the Italian midweek I take my foot off the pedal. On Saturday I spend the afternoon in my favourite Caffe Nero reading an old Enid Blyton favourite until about 3pm when I shut the book. Decision time. Do I turn right towards my home and Bioshock Infinite or do I turn left towards the underground station and see what is on the streets? I turn left. Coming out of Green Park station I see the sun shining and people picnicking. I’m feeling chill and stateless. No intent but also no pressure. I slowly saunter through the park remembering Jon Matrix‘s old advice of letting all your energy and weight sink down into your legs to relax you. Coming out to Buckingham Palace I see my dream set.
Tall. Brunette. Camera. Tour book. Sensible walking shoes. Tight jeans….. and a rucksack.
I’ll say this again because it needs saying. Learn to cold read girls. Some of its obvious but ruminate on the clothing for a moment. A girl who puts on jeans and trainers has obviously planned to be walking around alot for sightseeing. She’s not expecting to meet anyone. So when you encounter her at 4pm its a strong bet that she’s been walking around for hours with no social contact, her feet hurt, and she’d love to idate.
My opener is the usual stuff about being an obvious tourist and I assumption stack on her being Central European, probably Slovakian. I “disbelieve” her on the “I’m German” because she doesn’t have a square head or lederhosen. Easy hook. Turns out she’s a competitive athlete. That explains the washboard stomach and toned legs. After ten minutes I walk her off through St James Park. As she keeps making conversation I know this is headed somewhere. Nonetheless it surprises me how fast.
Venue 1 is the park. I just want her walking with me to build momentum. It then seems really natural to finish the walk in Venue 2 – the cafe inside the National Gallery at Trafalgar. Beforehand I’m framing her about acting like an English lady to drink real English tea. I send her to get seats while I order tea. That’s a nice £4 idate. I’m doing mostly comfort with occasional spikes. She’s sedate but interested so I tell her about Sherlock Holmes and bounce her to Venue 3 – the Sherlock Holmes pub. But its busy and I don’t want to be jostled so we end up in another pub around the corner. I’m playing with her hands and hair now, with no flinching. Amber light, keep moving forwards. She knocks back a pint, saying its easy to drink English “pussy beer”. Keep telling yourself that, love. So long as you drink…..
Venue 4 is a turkish souk in Covent Garden. Although the sun is beaming outside its dark inside and not the usual cloud of shisha smoke. She’s sitting next to me now and I start the questions game. Even at this late a point, two hours in, I’m not sure. You always have to make a move so I kiss her. Great. It’s on. Now the only question is SDL or Day 2. I’m starting to think about the African girl who is texting asking to meet after her work at 8pm. I decide to stall her until I know what’s going on with the German.
Venue 5 is the Hawley Arms in Camden, the pub Amy Winehouse usually passed out in (that’s part of my seeding of it). I want to get her closer to my house and also compliance test moving her. It’s still sunshine so its no surprise she bites. She’s been in London three days and is going to start a summer internship. She wants to look around. We get the underground. Its far less pressure to get a tube to a daytime market than a nighttime taxi home. I just feel her momentum behind me like wind in my sails. The girl has abdicated responsibility for her day. She even tells me she has nothing to do and I have as long as I need with her (big green light).
We have a pint each in the Hawley, standing against a wall. I can now work little touches and squeezes on her while locking in and making her move around me in a nice oak-tree/squirrel dynamic. I’m closer and closer to pulling the trigger. Its hard to point to any identifiable signals but my intuition is telling me this girl wants her London adventure sex now. I walk her outside and notice a minicab office next door. I tell her “we’re going to the next place” and walk in to order one, imploring the guy “as soon as possible”. Trigger is pulled, now I must brazen it out, hold frame, and lead. When I come back outside she pipes up:
Her: What did you do?
Me: I ordered a taxi
Her: Where to?
Me: The next place
Her: Where is that? (as we are getting into a waiting cab)
Me: My garden
On the drive back I’m doing the usual bamboozlement to get her talking and not pushing any kino. We get wine in my local shop and then I give her the house tour ending at my room. Shoes off, music on, give her five minutes alone. She texts my address to her friend. The usual. The final escalation is quick. She lets me strip her naked with no fuss before I even have my t-shirt off. And then I’m fucking her.
She’s tense. Halfway through she needs me to roll off so she can gather herself. We chat while I stroke her hair and give physical comfort.
Her: I need to text my friend again. She wants to know I’m ok.
Me: What will you tell her?
Her: She’ll love this story. It’s so typical of me
My heart stops. Did I fuck up my calibration so bad? She’s got virginal written all over her and now she drops this bomb. Five minutes later I’ve got my dick in her again and I do the interview.
Me: You haven’t had much sex before, have you? (she has appalling technique, very stiff and clumsy)
Me: Can you count how many times?
Me: Two men?
Her: Yes. One was my friends older brother. The other was a school friend. One time each.
Me: What did you mean when you said your friend will love this story?
Her: I’m quite impulsive and like adventure (I relax)
Me: When did you know I’d be fucking you?
Her: In the souk. Before then I still wasn’t sure what you wanted
So there it is. Meet the girl at 4pm and fucking her by 9pm. A sweet leggy young German. Seeing as she’s hot and I want her on my rotation I fuck her twice that night then meet her the next day for comfort in Hyde Park and another fuck at home. Add to skype before my holiday and there it is. A new girlfriend (of sorts).
The African texts at 9pm to say she’s too tired after work and can we meet another day. A bird in the hand, and all that….
Incoming search terms:
- passed out bar