I’m very much into Mediterranean girls with their big thick black hair, dark eyes and olive skin. Doesn’t matter if they are Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Greek, whatever – so long as they have the wop blood in them I’ll overlook their lazy hand-waving debt-repudiating cultural handicaps and focus on the dusky beauty.
I like wop girls. Wop men not so much. They are just half-adult mummy’s boys.
However I have trouble actually snagging a hot wop despite the aforementioned economic troubles causing a veritable flood of ‘em entering London to work at Caffe Nero. They now seem to outnumber the East Europeans. Getting attraction is easy, getting them away from their social circle-selected boyfriend another matter entirely. A conundrum.
So I’m walking through Leicester Square one sunny Sunday afternoon with Bhodi when I spot a seated Chinese girl I can set him on. That set hooks so I wander off towards Trafalgar Square and soon find just what I’m looking for: tall, slim, pretty, introverted and… woppy. I open telling her she looks Portuguese and it’s a strong hook from the off. All green lights. She’s full of energy and trying just as hard to make conversation as I am. My woptimism grows. After about ten minutes I take the number and suggest a coffee. Text game is easy.
Me: Hey. It was nice to meet you. Are you always so friendly to strangers?
Her: It was nice to talk to you, I’m glad you stopped me for a chat… very brave!
Me: [next day] It’s a lovely day I’m off to the park with friends.
Her: Nice! Beautiful day! unfortunately today is house viewing day for me.. can’t enjoy the sun properly! Fingers crossed for tomorrow… Enjoy the park and the lovely sun!
Me: Thanks hon. Good luck.
Me: [later that evening] How’s the viewing.. you still deciding between a palace and a cardboard box?
Her: Hahaha! I’m more oriented on the cardboard box at the minute! how was your day at the park?
Me: Sunny. Just having a beer now. Is tomorrow good? About 5pm
Her: Fine with me! Let’s see the weather and decide where to meet… what do you reckon?
Me: Sure. I’ll let you know tomorrow.
The sun is shining so I take the wopportunity to meet her in the park. It’s just so on, so fast. She’s giving me green lights on everything. We lie on the grass by the lake and within five minutes I pull her down next to me and another five pass before we’re kissing. I’m now left with a dilemma of whether I should try to take her home this date. I resist. Generally speaking if you fuck a Euro-girl on the first date or earlier its a one-off and she won’t be back. That’s not an iron rule but you’ve set the frame of adventure sport sex and she might demur from a repeat. Seeing as my goal is to build a rotation I hold fire and just keep it clean. Comfort, a walk, a drink and then send her home after two hours.
I’d been seeding the next date of her coming round to cook me Italian food. She’s jumping at the chance. At no point did any of this feel like reaching for it. So two days later I meet her in town, walk her through a nice mom’n’pop Italian grocers for supplies, then the bus to my place. I’ve fucked her before we even unpack the shopping bags. Literally just did the house tour ending in my room and she was all over it once her ass hit my bed.
It’s nice when it goes easy.
It’s easy to be playful with this girl too. She’s got a very pleasant chatty demeanour and takes the banter brilliantly. So while she’s cooking she lets slip that she used to work for an NGO. A proper do-gooding lefty. She’s 29 now and mostly grown out of it but I still mercilessly rib her for the next hour with every non-PC comment I can muster. Then I fuck her again and send her home.
There’s not much in the way of learning points here. She was a Yes Girl from the very first moment so I just had to recognise that, restrain myself from overgaming, and shuttle her along the path to sex.
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