Lay Report: My First Argentinian

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She doesn’t look anything like this girl. But the flag is correct.

I’m having a weekend off from daygame, so hopefully I can get through the backlog of lay reports. Only two to go after this one!..

The last Thursday of June was my final evening in my Marylebone apartment. I had no dates lined up for the evening, so I decided to go out and hunt for one last notch [1]. I got home from work, took a shower and got my daygame threads on before taking a stroll down Marylebone high street in the direction of Oxford street. As I got to the bottom of the street, I saw a short little brunette walking towards me with ridiculously big pointy sunglasses on her face. She stopped on the corner of the street to look at her phone, then up at the street signs, then rotated on the spot whilst looking back at her phone. She was clearly trying to find something.

As I got closer, I examined her form in more detail. She had big hips and a small waist, her legs were thick, not fat, she had a flat stomach and a very cute face. She had a rocker look about her with a black leather jacket, a t-shirt of some band and black leggings. She was a solid 7 and definitely worth having a chat…

“Excuuuuuse me, I can see that you’re clearly lost, but I had to say… you look really cute, like a cross between Olivia Newton-John and… Elton John” I was quite proud of my creativity.

“Bahahahaha, who are they?” said Elena – what a waste.

“Never mind, so what are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for a boxing gym!”

Turned out that Elena was from Argentina (NEW FLAG), had arrived in London a month ago and was now looking to join a boxing gym. She was 24, had dropped out of her mechanical engineering degree in her final year as it was too difficult and had chosen London as a temporary base whilst she improved her English before becoming an air hostess. I told her some stuff about me before going for the number, she would only give me her Instagram as she said she didn’t have whatsapp.

The texting was straight forward and after some back and forth we agreed to meet the following Wednesday…

We arrnaged to meet at 7.30pm at Tottenham Court Road station. I had just moved apartments the previous Friday and this would be my first proper date [2] since moving. As it turned out, my flat mate had a date lined up at the same meeting point and time. We both stood there waiting for our girls, Mr. S was telling me how he couldn’t remember what his looked like, it was dark when he opened her – I laughed at him and reasoned “Surely she must have been hot if you opened her”… “I fuckin’ hope so, I tink a might just bin her off after one drink if she’s mingin’” – Sound logic.

His arrived first and he was relieved to see that she was indeed pretty. Mine arrived shortly afterwards looking nice and slutty – she wore black heeled boots, torn black tights, a short black leather skirt, a tight white t-shirt and the same black leather jacket. She’d put a bit more make-up on and had done her hair – she looked very bangable indeed.

I walked us towards Fitzrovia to find that all the bars were packed full of office folk having post work pints in the glorious London sunshine. Eventually we found a pub quite close to my apartment with a table outside. I told Elena to grab the table whilst I got the drinks in. We ploughed through the comfort fluff as we sipped on our beers and puffed on cigarettes. Elena was very bubbly, giggling at almost everything I said. I enjoyed laughing at her when she spoke broken English and she would thank me for correcting her. She opened up on her hopes and dreams, telling me that she regretted dropping out of university and how she wished she had some proper qualifications. Her bar job didn’t pay well, and she was struggling to get a job as an air hostess… I empathised before offering some solutions;

“Have you considered becoming a stripper or a prostitute? I think you’d do well”

“AHAHAHA – NO!” giggled Elena, as she punched me on the arm. From previous experience, if a girl punches me on the arm, I’m 99% certain that I will bang her.

We got a second drink at the same venue as it was still nice outside even though it was pushing 9pm. I asked Elena what time she had to be up in the morning.

“I have be at work in 8am, so I need to wake early, I hate early.”

“Ah so you need to go home soon?”

“Yes”

BALLS. I now had to decide whether to push fast for the first date lay or delay it to a second date. I chose the former, obviously. I drank my pint in about five minutes as well as most of her half pint and announced that we were going for a walk.

“Where to?”

“Disney land”

“haha, Ok, I love Disney”

I walked her straight to my front door.

“Oh, would you look at that, I live here, want to come up for a glass of wine before you go home?”

“Just wine?”

“And good company of course, I might even play you a song on my guitar, or show you my roof top view of London” [3]

“OK!”

At this point I still hadn’t even kissed her, but she was accepting my touch throughout the date. I showed her the flat, poured the wine into water glasses (we still don’t have wine glasses in the new place) and went straight to the bedroom. I stuck on spotify and she found a playlist full of Argentinian music – it was god awful, but I was willing to lose the battle to win the war. Not long afterwards I went for the kiss and that was it for her. She moaned as I kissed her and started rubbing my cock over the top of my jeans and tugging at my belt to try and remove it. The clothes quickly came off and I took great pleasure in spanking her big round booty [4] as I banged her from all angles. Not long afterwards Elena jumped in an Uber and Mr S. and I debriefed each other in the kitchen, he’d also banged his girl. We both got our first lay on the same night in the new apartment and we also both got new lays on the last night of the old apartment. Isn’t that something.

[1] I got one, but it wasn’t with this girl, that will be my next lay report

[2] I had a Sunday afternoon date with a crazy Thai bird that l I bounced back, but it didn’t go anywhere

[3] None of this happened.

[4] Mr. S did not enjoy the sound of this so much. He was trying to sleep in his bedroom on the other side of the wall… “Jesus Roy, what’s with all the spanking?! Can you calm down on that a bit next time, it was keeping me up!” he told me later on.

Lay Report: A Demure Russian

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Unfortunately, she wasn’t this hot.

Just when I got the backlog down to 3 lay reports, I had to go and get another one didn’t I. This story is similar to the last one in structure, but the girl was worlds apart…

On Friday evening past I had a second date with a black English Milf – she tried to friend zone me so I ended it after an hour and decided to do some daygame. I met up with Mr.S at 8pm and walked around to see what took my fancy. My intent to open was quite low as I had a date lined up with the Bosnian I’d closed the previous night at 11pm.

After an hour or so we were on our last lap of Oxford street before retiring for a cheeky pint. It was my turn to open when we both saw a short little brunette walking towards us. She had tanned skin, her hair was down to her bum and she wore a denim jacket, a tight little white dress and converse trainers. “If you don’t do that, I’m doing it!” Mr.S informed me. I thought about it for a micro-second – “I’ll do it” said me.

I got in front and told her she looked very cute, too cute to be walking the streets alone on a Friday night. A huge smile cracked open on her face to reveal a glistening metallic grill on top of her teeth – she had braces and instantly dropped from a high 7 to a low 7. I carried on with my prattle for a few minutes and she just stared at me without saying a word, but I could see she was enjoying it as she couldn’t stop smiling.

“You’re not from these parts, are you?”

“No”

“If I had to guess, I’d say Russian”

“Haha how did you know?”

“I’ve spent a bit of time in Saint Petersburg and Moscow, you remind me of the girls there, the dress, the jacket… the converse… Меня зовут Roy”

“Aaaah haha, I’m Sofija”

Sofija was very shy and her English wasn’t great but she kept staring deep into my eyes like she was trying to see into my soul. She was on…

“So, what are you doing right now?”

“Oh, I was about to go home on the bus”

“Booooooooooring, come on, it’s Friday night, let’s get a quick drink!”

“Hmmmmm… OK where?”

“Just follow me”

I walked us to the Argyll Arms, got the drinks in and we sat beside each other on one of the benches in the back of the bar. Turned out Sofija had just got to London and was here for the Summer to learn English. Quite early on she told me that she hated her father as he left her mother to bringe her and her 3 sisters up when she was a kid, I empathised with her. I asked her what type of men she liked, and she more or less described me. I tried to kiss her a few times, but she kept giving me the cheek. Eventually she relented but would only kiss with her mouth closed. I couldn’t figure out if she was ashamed of her braces, didn’t like kissing in public, or if it was all too fast for her. I didn’t have time to figure it out, it was now almost 11pm and I was supposed to be meeting the Bosnian.

I considered binning off the Bosnian to push for the SDL as it seemed on, but I knew the Bosnian was on as well because she was very keen over text and meeting at that late an hour usually means sex.

I turned to Sofija and asked her plans for the following day, she had nothing on so I told her I had to leave and we could meet then instead. She was slightly shocked and looked disappointed before agreeing to meet the next day. As I walked her to the bus stop the Bosnian rang me…

“WHERE ARE YOU??! I’M AT THE STATION!”

“I’m just with a friend at Oxford circus, I’ll be there shortly”

“DO YOU WANT ME TO COME TO YOU?!”

“No, stay there, I’ll be 5-10mins”

Sofija asked who I was speaking to, the Bosnian was so loud that she probably heard everything.

“Ah it’s just a crazy friend, I have to go for a drink now for a friends birthday.”

I think she bought it. Sofija jumped on her bus and I took a brisk walk up to Tottenham Court road where the Bosnian was stood waiting, you can read the rest of that story here.

The next day I pinged Sofija to see if she was still keen – we agreed to meet at 8pm at Oxford Circus. It was gay pride in London on the Saturday. The streets were queered up to the max so Xants and myself decided to get out of dodge and do our daygame down by Southbank. It was nice down there but there weren’t that many sets. As it got towards 7pm we made our way back over the river to meet the lads for a pint before my date.

At 8pm I pinged her to see if she was on time and she responded saying “Sorry, I’m having some issues with my friends”

“Oh, so are you coming or not?”

“Yes, but I don’t know when”

I carried on drinking with the lads and we all went for dinner. It was almost 10pm when she showed up at the restaurant. I settled my part of the bill, said my goodbyes to the lads and walked her back towards the flat.

I took her to the same speakeasy as I took the Bosnian the night before, had one drink and said almost the exact same thing as the night before – “it’s too noisy here, you want to have a drink on the rooftop at my place instead?”

“Oh, OK”

As we walked back it started to rain so the rooftop was no longer an option. We got into the flat, she took her shoes off and then all her defences dropped. She was kissing me frantically and our clothes came off at the door. I took her straight to the bedroom and pounded her tight little vagina for an hour or so before I collapsed in a tired, sweaty mess.

Sofija was my third new daygame lay in four days. The new apartment seems to be paying dividends already. So, although this is a fairly boring report, it reinforced a few things for me;

  1. Just because she’s shy/k-selected, it doesn’t mean she won’t bang quickly
  2. Escalate on orange lights
  3. Good logistics are a massive advantage

Lay Report: A Bonkers Bosnian

bosnia-fanjpeg-1I’m getting laid faster than I can write reports these days and now have a back log of four to get through. I’ll start with the most recent and keep them all short and sweet…

At around 9pm on Thursday evening I was having a beer outside the Argyll arms with Xants and Mr S. I’d only done 3 sets during the daygame session due to sheer exhaustion – the previous night I slept with a cute little Argentinian that kept me awake until the early hours of the morning.

Mr. S and I were discussing how great our new flat is and the opportunities it would present to us. Then out of the corner of my eye I spotted a browney Slavic looking girl slinking past. Iva was a slim, late twenties brunette with a pierced eyebrow and olive skin. She wore a black vest, black short shorts and black knee-high leather boots. I’d put her in the high 6/low 7 bracket.

“Mate, she’s got Roy written all over her!” declared Xants.

“uuuuuugggghh…. OK” – and off I went.

I got in front and the hook was instant. I don’t remember specifically what I said, but it was something along the lines of how I liked her Slavic slinky walk, like she was a cat, or a spy, or something.

Then she hit me with this husky voice –“Oooooh wow, this is sooo cool” – she sounded like a bad girl from the Bond movies and I told her so. Iva told me she was Croatian and had recently moved to London. She was on her way to meet a guy and was angry at how he was making her meet him in a pub. I told her he sounded pretty alpha. We chatted a bit more and then she said;

“You know what, fuck this guy, can I go for a drink with you instead?”

“Now?.. Uhhhm, OK”

As I started to walk her in the direction of my apartment her phone rang… It was the guy… she hesitated and then answered…

“YOU’RE SUCH AN ASSHOLE! Why won’t you come to meet me?!”

It’s fair to say she was angry at this alpha chap.

“I’ve met a cool Irish guy and I’m going for a drink with him instead – ASSHOLE!”

I’d never seen such blatant hypergamy in action. Then she was quiet for a minute as the guy calmed her down over the phone.

“OK, OK, OK! I’m coming – ASSHOLE!” – Iva hung up the phone.

“So, we’re not going for a drink then?” deduced me.

“No, I don’t like to let people down. But can we do it another time? You seem really cool”

“Sure”.

I took her number and off she went. I returned to the lads – “another nutter, why’s it always me?” I pondered.

I awoke on Friday morning to a stream of messages from Iva, I hadn’t even sent her a feeler. Her last message was “are you free for a drink one of these days?”

“yeah, tonight?”

“OK, what time?!”

“8?”

“Oh, I’m working to 11, can we meet after that?”

“OK” – that my friends, is a sex date.

I ended up meeting her at 23:45 at Tottenham court road station and walked her in the direction of my apartment. There was only one bar open, a little speakeasy on the corner of my street. But because all the other bars were closed, they had a DJ and made it into a little night club. We had one drink before I invited her to my apartment to have wine on the roof top. She necked her drink as soon as I suggested this and said, “Let’s go!”

We smoked cigarettes and drank wine on the rooftop as we got to know each other some more. I found out Iva was actually born in Bosnia (NEW FLAG!) but grew up in Croatia. She upped and left with only £100 in her bank account and no idea how she was going to survive. I admired that. But then she started telling me too much. She didn’t like the guy from the previous night, but she still had sex with him. This turned me off massively. I sat there trying to decide if I still wanted to go through with it and Iva noticed that I had gone quiet… “is this weird for you? Shall I go home?”

“You talk too much, I don’t need your life story”

“Oooooh I’m so sorry, this is just how I am”

“OK, well some advice, don’t tell guys about other guys you’re banging”

“OK, I’m so sorry”

“Come on, let’s go back down to my flat”

I took her straight to the bedroom, the clothes came off, I made sure to rubber up and we had sex. We went at it 3 times, I came the first, she came the second and I the third. As I pulled my dick out after pounding her hard in the doggy position, I looked down to see the condom all shrivelled up around the base of my cock. FUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCK.

Iva started freaking out…

“Oh my God, I don’t want kids!! Do you have anything?? When’s the last time you got tested?”

“Not that I know of… don’t worry about it, sleep here, I’ll take you for the pill in the morning” Said me.

“Why are you so relaxed?! This is fucked!!”

“It’ll be fiiiiiiine, you worry to much” – inside I was freaking out too.

Iva took herself for a shower and I laughed to myself on the bed as I thought of Jacob Zuma’s infamous quote…

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Wise words.

Iva returned from her shower and announced “Well, we may as well do it again because I’ve probably already got whatever you have…. And you owe me one more orgasm”. So, we did it again.

The next morning, I took her straight to the pharmacy and then I even bought her breakfast. I won’t be seeing her again.