Well, that was unexpected.
(Pics at bottom.)
I’m basically in hibernation right now. I’ve long since zoned out of my hometown, instead dreaming of greener pastures in Europe which will soon be my domain.
My days right now are relaxing, fulfilling, but my schedule is a bit fucked. The two main components of my day are (1) writing, and (2) gym. Writing takes me about two or three hours, and I do it only because I enjoy it. I’ve passed the point long ago where it is needed to pay the bills. I could just cruise for the remainder of my life producing nothing and have a very good passive monthly income. Having nearly 40 books in my portfolio, selling well, does that sort of thing.
Plus I’ve already got a great nest egg built up. The benefit of not having any consumerism tendencies.
The schedule is fucked because I’ve progressively managed to push my sleep time later and later. Last few weeks I’ve been going to sleep around 7 or 8 am. Not very good.
But so long as I wake up before 6pm, I can make it to the coffee shop and finish all my writing — storytelling — before it closes at 9.
So not much impetus to fix things. The 2-3 hours of writing give me a great sense of accomplishment, and, more importantly, every day I’m able to tap into phenomenal flow. Honestly I think that’s the biggest key to having solid inner game. If I don’t write I get antsy, slightly irritable, and annoyed with myself for missing out on flow.
Yesterday on the way to the coffee shop I park my car about a block away and walk the short distance to it. Just looking around, open to the world, but absolutely not concentrating on girls (very few of them wander the streets here anyway).
I turn a corner and spot a brunette walking by herself, toward me. She’s in her own world, headphones on and completely zone out. Something about her tickles the back of my mind — she looks vaguely familiar.
As we pass our eyes meet and recognition flares. She’s the girl two years younger than me who I had a crush on when I was 18, but never did anything about it other than some light flirting in class because, back then, I thought sixteen was too young.
(She was in an advanced Spanish course, which just meant that she was with the twelfth graders when she was in tenth grade.)
Hilarious, of course. Krauser said somewhere in his memoirs or blog that he decided seventeen is the youngest he’d go for. When I read that, I did a bit of thinking, and decided that sixteen is my minimum.
(In countries where it’s legal, obviously.)
Anyway nine years later I run into this girl again. She gives me a small smile as we pass. All the game stuff I’ve been reading bursts to mind, and I decide to run back and open her.
She makes it effortless. She’s all smiles from the beginning, laughing at every inane thing that comes out of my mouth. I dare say this girl still fancies me.
I step in close after maybe a minute of chit chat and look her dead in the eyes. She flushes. Could this be the magical eye mesmer Krauser always talks about?
I probe her logistics and she says she just got off work and is walking to the bus stop to go home. I suggest instead bouncing to the coffee shop I write at. She hems and haws a bit but I can tell she’s keen. After a minute of indecision she agrees.
We walk in and conversation flows. Talking is very easy, too easy, because she remembers back when I got my acceptance letters to the best universities. Only one in the history of my highschool to do so, so back then it was a big deal. Probably still is, I only ever mention it to people I get to know these days to inform them of how absolute shit the Ivy League really is.
So already the mythology is built up in her mind. I have to do absolutely nothing. We settle down on some leather seats and the whole conversation I just lean back and let her invest. I throw a few hooks out and she bites. Too easy, no skill involved.
Maybe forty five minutes, an hour later, I suggest we go to a bar. There’s only one in the area, and it’s about ten blocks away. It’s started to rain so the only choice is to go in my car. I don’t want to do that (provider game, car is nice lol) but I don’t want to miss out on the new date model escalation system in my mind. Plus, the way this girl is eyeing me, it’s painfully obvious that it’s on.
Before, I might not have bothered. But since I have this blog to write, I decided why the hell not.
We get to the car and she goes quiet when she sees it. I act like it’s no big deal (it really fucking isn’t) and she tries to mimic me. The drive takes a few minutes and I think we only say two or three words.
Anyway I park, we get out, go to the bar. It’s dinner time on a Thursday so the place is pretty empty. I get a beer, offer her one, she demures and goes for water. I nod to a distant corner table and we take our seats.
She sits across from me at first. I say “No, no,” and motion her closer. She switches seats and scooches closer.
She takes her jacket off and I notice her arms are trembling ever so slightly. I wouldn’t have made anything of it had I not read one of Krauser’s posts a week ago where he mentions the exact same thing happening on one of his idates. It means the girl is VERY ON.
We babble a little bit and she eases out of her frozen shell. Sipping the water seems to help her nerves. I take her hand and do the classic thing “You’re not wearing any rings.”. She qualifies hard right away, insisting she usually does have rings and bracelets on but takes them off for her work, yadda yadda yadda.
I let her talk for as long as she’s happy to. The whole time I’m fixing her with strong eye contact. My cock twitches. Making good on my weasel with her almost a decade ago has me pretty evicted. And, even if she is a lot older, she still looks pretty good.
I start to sexualize things, asking her about her boyfriends and dating life. I remember back when I had a thing for her she was dating this tiny little manlet from her grade. I saw them kiss once in the hall between classes and found it hilarious. This girl’s short, maybe 5’5″, and he was shorter than her back then.
She reveals to me she’s been strictly monogamous since high school. From one boyfriend to the next. I don’t know how much stock to put in that but it doesn’t really matter. She has incredible breasts, the thing that attracted me most to her when she was sixteen, and they developed damn early.
I tell her she’s distracting me with them.
She giggles and goes ditzy. Brain fry. I do the old mystery method thing of looking from one eye, to the other, then down to her lips.
The moment is ON. She’s close and begging to be kissed. I run a hand through her hair, rest it on the nape of her neck, and say, “I’m going to kiss you now.”
She protests and her eyes dart away but her body remains still. I pull her to me, firmly but gently. Our lips touch.
She resists a few seconds and then opens up. I pull away almost immediately as she does.
“I can’t believe you did that,” she says, looking at me with big huge doe eyes.
By this point I have a raging boner.
I lean back again, giving her a devious smile, acting all cool. Inside my mind is racing. Can I extract her? What do I do next? We’re pretty much the only couple in the pub.
This is where inexperience fucks me over.
This girl is 100℅ into me. I know if I had the knowledge I could fuck her. Every signal from her has been green, green, green.
But just as she had brain fry, now it’s my turn. Heh.
I reach over and run a finger up her leg. I think she trembles. “Come here, let’s do it again,” I tell her, and this time it’s a full make out.
My mind’s gone blank. All I can think about is fucking this girl. A sense of unreality sets in. I’ve never had a SDL before.
Ultimately, I prove too eager. There’s nowhere I can bring her. I’m in my parent’s house, together with my brothers, so I can’t exactly bring her back.
Still, I grab her hand and pull her out. She hops after me. She asks me where we’re going, I say back to the car.
Halfway there I do K’s move. “See that post box? When we pass it, I’m going to kiss you.”
I push her against the wall and we have another passionate make out. It’s dark now and animal spirits are out. I’m still reeling, having no idea how to pull.
We get to the car and get inside. I kiss her again over the console. I put her hand on my cock and she starts to moan.
Holy shit this is actually happening.
We’re on the street in full view of any passerbys. I want to get her naked and see those glorious breasts but I don’t think she’d be game in such an obvious place.
I know there’s an underground parking lot close by. I decide that’s my only option. I turn the car on and tell her we’re going somewhere more private.
Maybe verbalizing it was a mistake. It seems to kill the moment a bit. Could just be me, I don’t know, because thirty seconds later we’re parked underground and (uncomfortably) making out again.
I manage to get her jacket off. My hands are all over her body, finally on her breasts. I pull her shirt up. Bra follows. Breasts spill out. I dip my head and suck on them, rubbing her pussy through her jeans.
Best case scenario in my mind is I’ll get a blowjob. But my calibration is off. She’s made it so easy that I’m only doing pull pull pull, losing myself in the moment. I breathe in her ear and tell her how much I want to fuck her.
Not long after she eases away.
“This is too much,” she says. “I have to get home. Work…”
I know she wants it just as much as I do, but logistics are shit. And I’m swimming in endorphins, high on dopamine, whatever it is, too excited about this happening.
She pulls her shirt up and I know the moment is lost. I offer to drive her half heartedly, but she says she’ll take the bus.
We swap numbers and I say I’ll text her soon. Twenty four hours later I haven’t pinged her and don’t know if I will. Logistics are same as before, and unless I get a hotel room for the night sex won’t happen. I don’t want to go downtown, either — this city is too full of shitlibs and gays and trannies for me to enjoy the crowd.
And today I’ve wasted a day of writing typing up this blog post on my phone. So now it’s two days without flow.
Though yesterday was worth it.
I’m off to the gym.
EDIT: Pics as promised. She’s on the right.