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.








3 thoughts on “Lay Report: A straggler from the street

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