Lay Report: Another Satisfied Customer

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Blacker than this.

This report is one from a back log (only 1 left after this) of lays that I never got around to writing up, however, this does not detract from the story. I broke almost every rule in the London Daygame Model – but it worked…

Sunday 9 June 2019

It was a lazy, sunny Sunday afternoon. I was hungover, as is usual for a Sunday, and rolled out of bed at around 1pm. I text Mr S. to see if he fancied going for a late breakfast, he was already at a local café with Xants so I quickly got ready and went along to join them.

Upon my arrival Xants greeted me – “You look like a homeless person! Is this why you were eating noodles from the floor last night?! Are you homeless now?!” [1]

Mr. S was laughing along “Yeah, Roy, you look like shit and you fuckin’ stink of booze!”

“Chicks can’t resist the smell of stale booze and cigarettes in the mornin’ – just watch me get a same day lay today” said me, even though it wasn’t morning.

After breakfast I decided to go solo. I put my headphones in, selected my “Walk like a badass” playlist from Spotify in an effort to inject some vibe into my alcohol infused veins and took a walk towards “down bottom” [2].

I opened two girls as I walked down Oxford street and I got blown out twice. “Shit, maybe I really do look like a homeless person!” I thought to myself. Undeterred, I carried on, the next one would be good. I got to glasshouse street and decided to take a little break and lean against the wall to fish for a bit. I puffed away on my vape and as I exhaled I could a see a very nice bum passing by at speed on the other side of my cloud of vapour. I didn’t see the face, but I studied her figure as she raced away from me – she was a black girl with short curly hair, she was slim but was wearing tight leggings which showed off her excellent hip to waist ratio, she was wearing a tight black leather jacket with a skull on the back of it. Everything about her screamed BAD SET – she was walking fast, there was no IOI, I hadn’t seen her face. But the spider sense tingled, and it rarely lets me down. “She’s horny, OPEN” I told myself.

I literally ran after her as she was making a beeline for Wholefoods. I could see I wasn’t going to catch her in time for a front stop so when I was about 10-15ft behind her I yelled…

“HEY, YOU THERE, BLACK SKULL JACKET!!” – She slowed down, I carried on…

“Yes, you, STOP a second!”… she was rooted to the spot and turned to face me, she was looking at me and then looking at the floor as if I was about to tell her she dropped something. I closed the distance on her whilst breathing heavily…

“Thanks, excuse me, I’m a bit out of breath…”

“Wats goin’ on ere?!” said the black girl in a proper London accent, the kind you would hear on an episode of East Enders.

“I saw you racing past me back there and… I thought you looked hot, you have a strange look about you… the rock n roll jacket and the gym lycras, a strange combo, but it works”

“OH Wow, fank yoouu”

“Why were you running down the street?!”

“Oh, that’s just how I walk, keeps me slim”

“It seems to be working”

Shirly cut me off as I attempted enter the “vibing” phase.

“I’m in a bit of an’ urry, you mind walking wif me whilst I get my shopping”

“Uhhhhm, OK” said me.

From here we went on a mini shopping trip to both Wholefoods and Boots by picadilly. All the while I made a conscious effort to look her up and down whilst she satisfied her consumerist urges … I told her that I wasn’t her personal shopping assistant, but I would offer my opinion on her potential purchases as long as we went for a drink afterwards, she agreed.

Around 30 minutes later I walked us to the Glassblower at the top of glasshouse street. We got the little table in the corner by the entrance and I was back in familiar territory. I found out that Shirly was 28, from North London, was a teacher and had a degree in psychology from Cambridge University. She was well read and quoted lots of literature at me and was also heavily into her gym which explained her athletic figure. This was not a typical London black girl and she knew it.

After the drink I suggested another one at a bar closer to mine. She agreed on the proviso that we go to Primark first – she had to buy a gift for her niece. I told her to do that another time, but she insisted. I reluctantly agreed. 20 minutes or so later I started walking us in the direction of my apartment, Shirly was carrying 3 big bags of shopping from Wholefoods, Boots and now Primark.

We stopped off at the Phoenix bar just behind Oxford circus and got another drink in. We sat beside each other on a bench and I started escalating. She was accepting all touch but would not let me kiss her. It was now around 7 or 8pm so I suggested we walk to Marylebone (where I lived at the time) but she wasn’t having it and started talking about getting food. In hindsight, I should have ended the date here but as I was insisting on doing everything wrong on this date, I decided to take her to meat liquor for burgers. After the meal I made once more attempt to bounce her back, but she lived quite far away and hot a lot of shopping back to get home, so insisted on leaving at 10pm.

We text back and forth for the next couple of weeks, but we were both always busy. Then randomly she was in my area a few weeks later…

27 June 2019

I was lay on my bed at around 10pm on a Thursday night attempting to read a book when my phone vibrated on my bedside lock next to me. It was Shirly – “I’m at Marylebone station, you around?”

I got ready and met her at the station at 10:30pm. Shirly showed up in heels and an orange figure hugging dress, she looked much hotter than when I met her the first time around. I took her for a drink at the bar next to my apartment and we cuddled up beside each other on the couch. I finally kissed her this time. It got to 11pm and the bar was closing so we had to leave, this was the perfect excuse to bounce her back to mine.

As we walked to my front door (it’s a 3 min walk away) I told her that I lived in the area – “NO FUCKING WAY! You live here?!”

“Yeah, I told you I live in this area”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realise you meant bang in the centa!”

“Yup”

“Look, I’m not going home with you, I need to leave for the last train soon”

“Oh OK”

“I am quite hungry though; is anything open around here?”

“No restaurants, except the two Indian places over there” – There are two Indian restaurants on my street corner.

I took her straight to the Indian knowing that by the time we finished eating she would have missed her last train home. I ordered the smallest thing possible on the menu and she ordered some rice-based dish which she ate about a quarter of. I had a pint and she a half pint.

Shirly paid the bill this time as I got the burgers the last. Shortly after this I took her home and fucked the shit out of her, the sex was amazing and she had a fantastic body – with larger breasts than expected (she never wears a bra), a tiny waist with a big butt and a very wet vagina. I let her stay over as I wasn’t working the next day (I was off on a Euro Jaunt). She let herself out the next and I fully intended on keeping her around as a regular – she was not only good in bed, but also good at chat.

However, I made a mess of the texting, there is no text game manuals around on how to handle girls AFTER you’ve banged em’. I messed it up because every time she wanted to see me, I had another date lined up or at least potential dates with new girls. I never wanted to commit to spending an evening with her in case one of my new leads came through. Then one day (it was gay pride in London) I was joking around with her over text, she didn’t take it well and things ended quite spectacularly…

That escalated quickly.

 

[1] At the end of the previous evening I bought a box of noodles from Wok to Wok. As I went to have my first bite, I intelligently dropped the full box on the ground and all the noodles fell out. I scooped them straight back into the box utilising the three second rule and carried on eating them.

[2] Down bottom is the term my wings use to refer to Piccadilly, Leicester Square, Covent garden and Trafalgar square. Up top is Regent Street/Oxford street – we tend to avoid this area when it’s too busy and/or infested with other daygamers spamming it up.

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Lay Report: Another Colombian

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The ass wasn’t quite this big.

This lay was quite uneventful up until the part where I drunkenly smashed through her LMR with a big push, not a recommended strategy, but it’s probably better than proposing…

Saturday 20 July 2019

It was around 5pm on a sunny afternoon and I was making my way down towards Soho to meet the lads for a few beers. As I was crossing oxford street to go into Soho, I saw a short sweaty latino looking girl in full black lycra. She had thick legs with big hips, a small waist and a toned bronze torso, her fantastic body was let down slightly by her moon shaped face, but it was still worth opening – Suzi was a still a 7.

I got in front and it turned out that she was a Colombian from Cali. She had just been to the gym and I complimented her dedication, getting all hot and sweaty indoors when it was so nice outside. I don’t recall much of the conversation, but I do remember the vibe, she was lapping it up. Suzi remarked a couple of times “I bet you do this with all the girls” – but it wasn’t a shit test, she seemed to be enjoying getting chatted up properly. I invited her out another time as I finished the set, but Suzi was going back to Colombia for three weeks for a family wedding. I took her number and put it in my cavernous vault of very good set/very low probability of banging leads.

I pinged her every few days as the weeks passed and she added me on Instagram – I’m pretty sure she wanted me to perv at her daily uploads of holiday bikini pictures. Of course, I did just that, but I didn’t tell her so or like any of her pictures. A couple of days before she was due back, I challenged her to a competition – whoever had the least sun tan would buy the first round of drinks. She accepted and I knew I was going to lose but it would be a loss I’d gladly endure to win the war. We set it up for Saturday past.

Saturday 17 August 2019

I’d spent most of the day wandering the streets with Mr S. It was one of those days that should have been great for daygame but just wasn’t. In three hours, I didn’t see one girl I wanted to open, sometimes the quality is just not there. At around 5pm we threw in the towel and went to a pub to watch the football and get some food. My date with Suzi was confirmed for 8pm and we would meet at Tottenham Court Road.

I turned up 5 minutes late and a little bit tipsy from the three pints I had at the football… She noticed straight away…

“Had a few drinks, have we?!”

“Ah just one with the football” I lied.

Suzi was not impressed but I didn’t apologise and proceeded to walk her to a bar beside my apartment. We got through the comfort fluff over the first drink – she told me all about her holiday, I found out she was 28 and most importantly, she was looking for a boyfriend. We moved to the same cocktail bar opposite my place (as mentioned here) for the second round and I sat beside her on a couch. I got social proof again from the Joe the bar man as he poured us two if his cocktails of the month whilst asking who the lovely lady was. It was now pushing 10pm and Suzi didn’t seem in a hurry to go anywhere. We had another round of cocktails before I bounced her back to the apartment for what I was sure was going to be an easy lay.

I took her to the rooftop for a quick glass of wine and then back down to the bedroom. There was lots of kissing but every time I tried to remove her clothing she would slap my hand away and say things like “NO, I don’t do this on a first date!”… “I want a boyfriend, not just a one night stand”… bla bla.

I grew more and more frustrated as it got later and later. At around 1am I ran out of patience…

“Look, if you don’t want to have sex, just leave!”

“Really?! You are only after sex? Why didn’t you say so?” said Suzi.

“Huh, I thought it was pretty obvious” said me, it was.

“I guess you’re just not the relationship typa guy” she was talking herself into it.

“Not at the moment, no”

We kissed, the clothes came off and I took great pleasure in spanking her big Columbian ass. I didn’t realise it at the time, but we were VERY noisy. I had the music up full blast and Suzi was not a quiet girl. Mr S told me the next day that he had the worst nights sleep and that the neighbours were banging on the door at 2am. I was oblivious to all of this. I apologised to Mr S, but he was having none of it “No apology necessary – revenge will be sweet”. The joys of sharing a flat with another player are endless.

 

 

 

 

Lay Report: Marriage Game

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Similar except my girl was whiter, had bigger hips and a smaller waist. So, hotter than this.

A few weeks back Xants asked me if I fancied accompanying him for a long weekend in Belgrade, he had a hot long lead [1] he wished to pursue. I didn’t have much in the way of hot leads there myself, but I did have quite a few lukewarm ones, and, I do really like Belgrade. I carefully considered the pro’s and con’s of my good friends proposition for all of three seconds before confirming my attendance, I’m a nice guy, after all.

A week or so before the trip I started pinging said lukewarm leads and got radio silence from all but two. One was a hot little 17-year-old that I Instagram closed a month previous but never got out. The other was a cute little 22-year-old I’d been on FIVE dates with over a year ago but never got further than kissing, she wanted a boyfriend. I’d kept tabs on her over Instagram, since I left last year it looked like she’d gotten a serious boyfriend as she was kissing some chode in almost every picture. Then a couple of months ago the boyfriend did a Houdini and disappeared from all her stories and pictures. One evening she posted a picture of herself in a tight little black skirt, she looked fucking hot. So naturally, I sent her a drunken creative message “let’s get married”. A week later she replied “Where, when?” We got into a text exchange and I informed her of my impending return to Belgrade, we agreed to meet to discuss our marriage plans. So, I had one very weak lead whom I’d not even dated and one strong one, provided I married her…

How to get a girl to marry you.

Xants and I set off for Luton airport at around 04:30 on the Thursday morning and arrived at our usual apartment just behind Knez at around 1pm. Our place was still being cleaned so we took ourselves for a bit of brunch and fishing by Republic Square as we basked in the plus 30-degree heat.

I pinged the 17-year-old and she responded instantly, her face is obviously permanently glued to her phone as with most of the kids today, asking if we could meet at 2pm instead of that evening. There was a lot of back and forth over text, mainly due to her being a dappy 17-year-old. The upshot was that I wouldn’t get her out that day [2] – she’d had an argument with her parents because they bought her 13yr old sister a better phone than her and was consequently grounded. The 22-year-old was straight forward, mainly due to her not being dappy and/or 17, so I set up a date with her for the following evening, Friday.

This was my first time in Belgrade in August, and it will probably be the last – the heat was unbearable, and I was sweating profusely. There weren’t that many sets about, they were either hiding from the heat or away on holidays, most of the girls that were walking the streets were jailbait. So, on the Friday afternoon Xants and I parked ourselves at our favourite drinking establishment on Knez and proceeded to get tipsy. Eventually, the right honourable Nick Krauser joined us to regale us with tales of his latest adventures in Warsaw. He’d spoken at the 21 convention and done a few resi’s. After that we went for dinner at our favourite restaurant where a delicious steak and a few gallons of wine costs about 50p – we ate like kings.

As we polished off the last of the wine it was already 9pm and I was supposed to meet Vicky (the 22-year-old), she pinged asking where I was and I sent her my location on google maps telling her to meet me at the restaurant whilst I waited to pay the bill. A few minutes later Xants spotted a short brunette with a tidy little frame in blue hot pants and a tight white vest top that showed off her flat stomach walking quickly past our table. I could see he was about to get up and make chase…

“VICKY!!” I shouted over at her… Xants sat back down in his chair upon realising he was about to open my girl.

Vicky joined us at the table, I pulled her up a chair beside me and introduced her to the lads. Nick tried to make small talk with her as we waited for the bill, but I could see his Geordie accent had her thoroughly bamboozled, so I kindly translated…

“He said, DO YOU REMEMBER MEETING HIM LAST YEAR?!”

“Oh, yes, hahahaha, at the football” Said Vicky.

“aye” said Nick.

Luckily, we were saved by the bill moments later. I paid up and dragged Vicky off to the Irish pub which was right beside my apartment. My plan was to have one drink, catch up on what had happened in her life and take it from there. We quickly got through the comfort fluff over the first drink; she’d changed jobs and was finished her degree. Now she was working as an au pair for special needs kids. Then she started telling me that she had recently broken up with her boyfriend. I ordered another round of drinks.

It turned out that he was an asshole and her boyfriend before that was also an asshole, she was done with Serbian men. Vicky went on to explain that when I’d met her last year she had just broken up with her boyfriend and she wasn’t ready for anyone else.

“Hang on, haven’t you just broken up with another one?”

“Yes, but that was a few months ago” explained Vicky

“Aaaah, so you’re over him now?”

“Yes”

I quickly finished both our G&T’s…

“It’s hot and sticky out here, let’s go upstairs to my cool air-conditioned apartment!”

“OK!”

I took her upstairs, put some music on, poured the wine and within minutes she was naked on my couch. I picked all 48 kilograms of her up and carried her to the bedroom to finish the job, no LMR this year. The sex was amazing, Vicky had one of the best booties I’ve ever had the pleasure of spanking until it was red raw. She was an 8 [3]. Vicky left soon after this as she had to be up early for work the next day. All of this without mention of our supposed marriage, however I wasn’t entirely joking about this.

We met the next evening and went for a drink. She asked me if I was serious about the marriage message. I explained to her that I was drunk when I sent it, but that didn’t mean I was joking.

“You do tick all the boxes; you’re young, you’re hot, you’re fun to be around and you would make a great mother” said me, all true.

“Thanks! There’s nothing I want more than to be a good mother. I think you would be the best dad”

We discussed the logistics of how it could work and agreed to keep in touch for another year or so. Vicky has a place near the top of my marriage list [4] and I told her so, she seemed happy about this and started asking about the other girls on it, I told her not to worry about that. After this we went back to the flat for round two and the sex was even better.

Later that evening I met Nick at a dodgy dive bar for a last beer before my flight the next morning. I told him all about my little list and how I didn’t want to daygame forever [5], but my biggest fear of settling down with just one girl was avoiding the temptation of chasing new skirt. Nick doesn’t chase the skirt as much these days and seems fairly content not doing so. Jimmy Jambone is another who seems to be in a happy relationship. Nick explained that it didn’t happen to him overnight, it was a gradual enthusiasm drip from 2015 onwards…

“You’ll get to a point when you’re just not arsed anymore, it might be before you hit your target [6], or it might come after. But it’s happened to me and it’s happened to Jimmy. You’ll know when you know and you will be able to sit around a table with other players who’ve left their mark on the community and say ‘yeah, I deserve to be at this table’”

“I hope you’re right” I said sceptically before guzzling down the last of my cheap Serbian lager.

So, there you have it kids, next time a girl is giving you the dreaded LMR, just tell em’ you’ll marry em’! It works 60% of the time, all the time.

 

 

[1] She stopped messaging him a couple of days before the trip and ghosted. It’s happened to me.

[2] I got her out a couple of days later, but it was only for an hour before she went off to meet friends. Back in the lukewarm long lead box she goes.

[3] Xants told me this the next day without me even asking what he thought.

[4] There are now 5, maybe 6 girls on this list. I still fully intend to hang the gloves up at then end of next year.

[5] This is not society telling me to do so, I want at least one little Roy.

[6] 100 daygame notches. I’m already over 100 including pre-game and bar game lays.

Lay Report: A straggler from the street

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You look French

A couple of weeks ago I was out drinking with the lads and Jimmy Jambone was there. We got to talking about my game, he was saying all sorts of nice things and told me he wanted to see me in set. I offered him to wing me one weekend and we set it up for yesterday.

We met up at Tottenham Court Road at 1pm. It was a lovely afternoon, low to mid-twenties but slightly overcast, not too hot, not cold at all, perfect daygame weather. Jimmy was in good spirits as we walked around. I didn’t do my first set for a good hour, there just wasn’t much about. But then as we walked along Oxford street the action started. There was an Antifa protest up towards Selfridges, tear gas was in the air and I didn’t care.

Charity chugger kids were patrolling the streets with flyers about stopping knife crime in London. As I was in set, Jimmy had an open and honest conversation with one of them. “What’s your solution?” Jimmy asked the kid. “Well, we’ll organise 5-a-side football for the kids in the suburbs”. “No, no, no. That’s not going to work!” said Jimmy. “It all starts at home, with the family. Kids need a father figure, pheromones. Ya know?” Jimmy told me that he saw the penny drop in this little kids eyeballs and he thanked Jimmy for his wise words. As Jimmy went about solving the knife crime epidemic, I was committing worse crimes in set. I’d open and nothing was flowing. “You don’t look English… I’d guess Eastern European… not Russian though” I found myself saying over and over again as I burned set after set.

I’d bored 6 girls to death before we sat down for a coffee in the Seven Dials Café Nero. Xants joined us at this point and lifted the mood with his business jokes. We walked around in a three, but it wasn’t awkward as Jimmy was an innocent bystander to our atrocious game. My 9th set was a cute little Blonde Polish girl, I took her number but she would later tell me over text that she actually had a boyfriend. My 10th was a hot little Italian who would only give me her Instagram and flaked. At around 5.30 I’d had enough. “Fuck this, I’ve had enough, let’s go for a pint!” I begged the lads.

With the towel thrown in and my tail tucked firmly between my legs, we supped on pints in Soho and talked about the good old days, when game was fun. We moved to the Shakespeares head on Carnaby street to drink and fish. All the big name players joined us at one point or another, Richard from Street attraction, Thomas Crown, Mr Rasputin, Mr White… and Xants’ wrestling mate, TJ. It was a right little rat pack, but I couldn’t relax. I broke off from the group and went for a walk on my own. I opened a cute blonde English girl and took her for a drink around the corner from the lads. We had a good chat, but she’s also flaked. At around 11pm the lads were hungry so they descended on five guys in Argyll street. I waited outside as I wasn’t hungry. After 10 minutes or so I decided that I was tired and started walking home.

As I walked down Oxford street, I saw a hot little brunette in heels and a short orange skirt with an amazing hour glass figure, a high 7, possibly even an 8. “There it IS, MY SET OF GLORY!” I told myself as I ran after her. Bella was French, from Paris and had been out for a few drinks. She was about to jump on the tube to go home. “Booooooring!” Protested me. “Let’s go for a night cap”. “But where, everywhere seems to be closed in London”. “I know a place just up the road, come on, it’ll be fun”. “OK!”

I walked Bella in the direction of my apartment. There’s a cocktail bar just opposite where I’ve gotten quite friendly with Joe, the owner, as I’ve taken several girls on dates there. As I walked into to the bar he hollered “ROOOOOOY, Welcome back! Who’s the lovely lady?!” said Joe as he poured three tequilas for us all.

“Alright mate, ah just some straggler I picked up off the street”. Bella punched me in the arm at this point. We had one drink before I offered her to come to mine for a drink on the rooftop. Bella said “Only if you have Rose wine”. Luckily Mr S had left the remains of one bottle of Rose in the fridge. I poured the wine and took Bella up to the rooftop. I went for the kiss and she was all over me, her hands went straight for my dick. I unzipped, turned her round, lifted her skirt, pulled her underwear to the side and banged her doggy raw dog over the edge of the roof. She screamed with pleasure, so much so that I had to maim her with my hand so as not to wake the neighbours. As we continued I was growing concerned that someone might catch us, so I took her back down to my flat and finished the job.

Bella was great in the sack and I took great joy in cuming all over her big fake titties. I offered her to stay over but she insisted on getting an uber shortly afterwards. I collapsed on the bed. What a day.

 

#NEEGU