#throwbackthursday - Old stories for a new forum

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  1. #throwbackthursday - Old stories for a new forum

    Good evening gentlemen,

    while I'm still procrastinating the updates to my Warsaw Diaries (and God know how much stuff I should write you about), the first PUA forum I joined closed, so I figured that I could re-post here some of my old stories, or at least the ones that taught me something and I think could be useful to someone here - if not to get laid, at least to avoid my same mistakes. Also, it's Thursady here in Poland, so...

    #throwbackthursday field reports!

  2. My first Lay Report
    originally posted on Wed Oct 05, 2016 6:22 pm

    Girl: A., an blonde Austrian with ice blue eyes, a soft but nicely shaped body, and a lovely lavanda perfume.

    late night dorm room party

    In a baggy grey pijama (with light-grey toy rockets), messy hair and broken glasses, I was searching for a nice and cozy apartment, with the help of my roomate. I would have done anything in order to run away from the microscopic, dark, cold, soviet-style dorm room from where I'm writing to you you right now. Rising the eyes from the laptop monitor I noticed A. passing by the corridor, an elegant young woman in her early twenties taking a look inside, in a casual but somehow elegeant black dress. She asked if we had a spare knife. Oh, of course we had one, and we would gladly give it to her...if she helped us searching for an apartment, and maybe bring along something to drink in the meantime. She came back a few minutes later with our knife, her phone, and a bag of Austrian candies. No drinking for us tonigh, damn it... well, until my Bielorussian friend came in, with his Polish roomate and a bottle of homemade vodka. I belive that was a sign from God, or at least the from The Lucky Saint Protector of Drunkards.

    Being the only woman among four young men, she new that she had our complete attention. So I decided to play it by the book, and I continued searching on the web for my true salvation, that damn apartment. After a while, I almost felt her disappointed eyes staring at me and my grey pijama, while my friend were drooling looking at her ample breasts, almost flowing out of her dress; that was the right time to take my mug and put it under the nose of the Bielorussian, who happily filled it with vodka and orange juice. Damn, that was strong, but it was worth it: now she knew that despite the silly pijama, the three young students saw me as a father-like figure. Luckily, they didn't mention why: the day before I helped another Bielorussian pick up a Polish.

    Two hours fast forward. The first bottle of vodka was lying on the floor like a cold corpse on a crime scene, and the second one was not that far. Now we were all close, and everybody were listening my story abut my first trip to London, alone against the City, and slowly I started lowering my voice: if they wanted to hear the end of the story, they had to come closer, expecially A. Also, being Italian, I move y hand a lot while talking; they were polite enough not to make me notice it, and I clever nough to use it at my advantage, when casually my left had landed softly but firmly on her right thigh. She noticed, looked me in the eyes, and left my hand right where it landed. In a matter of minutes, our hands were touching softly, sensually, without almost even noticing it. She tried to look me in the eyes, sure that I would look her back...but I didn't. I didn't even stop talking to my friends, who were polite enough (or drunk enough) to ignore our flirt. Or maybe, just maybe, they were really interested in my story. By the way, they were all hanging on my words, waiting for the next story. A guy in a pijama, messed hair, and a mug with a red knight on it, I was more important and interesting than her beuty, her female power, her blue eyes, her tight black dress, almost more that her ample white bosom. Then the spark ignited the powder, and in a middle of the story she kissed me.

    A long, passionate, kiss.
    The guys stared in awe; we couldn't care less.
    My attention was now on her, and she wanted something more.

    There was a fantastic shared sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning, just the two of us. And that, I think, was the handle - that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of decency and good manners, two young people undressing in the middle of a bunch of wasted guys in a small room of a remote dormitory on the Baltic coast. Exactly one hundred years ago our gradfathers were killing each other on the bloody hills of the Podgora; now we were ripping our clothes under the amazed eyes of our young firends. Love won, at last.

    And lasted quite a while.


    Reading it now it sounds really cheesy, but at the time I was kinda scared of writing about this stuff in a forum. Anyway, I forgot to add some details, like the couple of times that my drunken roomate rushed into our room to puke while we were having sex, and then passed away while laying on the floor while staring at us. I saw that girl only once more, but - maybe out of wounded pride, shame or sincere interest - wanted something more than sex...and I didn't. Anyway, being the first guy to get laid in the dorm brought me some kind of "reputaton" that proved useful in the following weeks. I had better looking girls in the following months, but I always cherish the memory of that night, being the "proof" that I needed that actually the game works.

  3. A Slow Game: Days with E.
    originally posted on Mon Nov 21, 2016

    Day 1 (28/10/2016)

    I was walking with my roommate, both eager to find out which adventures that cold night had for us. We bumped in a group od Polish aquaintaces, all coming back from a birthday party, and started talking a bit. E. was there: a ripe young blonde, sparking with energy and vitality, so cute with her big hipster glasses. I ignored her at first, and caught the group attention with a quick story about the party of the day before, then she made a comment out of the blue about a book, actually from my favorite Polish author - good, I like girls with unusual tastes. I made another comment about it, and then left with my roommate. Before leaving, I added that we should definitely do a party all together sometimes, and she gave me her number without even me asking for it.

    Day 2 (6/11/2016)
    We meet for a beer, in a brand new and yet seedy pub near main street, where the glimps and the lights of the nightlife fade away, giving room to the trembling neon insignas of underground casinos and gentlemen’s clubs. Following the advice of Arch Stanton [ a member of my previous PUA forum to whom I'll be eternally grateful ] I went alone, and it was marvelous. With a bit of storytelling and language skills I became the center of attention of all her friends (mixed 5set) in under 5 minutes, then I started moving the whole group from one location to the other. We hit 4 pubs in a night, and then went back home, drunk and happy.

    I managed to get her into my apartment, when her phone rang: I could perceive the fear and anxiety of her friend at the phone, worried about E’s disappearance. She wanted to go back to her friends, and I didn’t stop her; she closed the door behind her after a brief gentle kiss.

    [ Months later she confessed that at the time had a boyfriend in another city, and yet was quite into the idea of a ONS with me.
    Unfortunately, she was persuaded by a text of her friends to "not be a slut" and come back to them. She went to them

    Day 3 (9/11/2016)
    From where I was I could see the smoke start to arise from the tables, blue haze among the neon lights. I walked over, moving passed the bouncers; I know the club by heart.

    I found E. among her friends (all female 5set) and I threw a classic opener just to warm them up, "The Girls' Fight". For those who don’t know it, it's pure old school MM, and it goes as follows:

    Oh God…did you see those two girls fighting outside? Right outside the club... two blondes, young ones, they were totally going at it; one was pulling the others' hair, and the other one drew blood with her nails. And they seemed to be fighting over this short guy; he was standing near them just totally laughing!

    Now that her friends had something to talk about, I took her for a drink. I manage to get a few free drinks two nights before, I cahed them in and she was kinda impressed by it. We chatted making fun of the desperate guys and girls around the club, standing like wallfowers with a forced smile and a hungry look around the club. After a couple of shots more we re-united with her friends, and I played the same game as the time before moving the whole group from pub to pub [ at the time I was realizing the importance of changing venues and time-distortion, that later become part of almost every pickup ]. Also this time I managed to take her to my apartment.

    It was around 1, maybe 2am, while she confessed, almost trembling I my bed. She felt drawn to me, but at the same time she was scared shitless because she couldn’t explain how it could happened all that fast. I thought about LMR and how to overcome it, so I agreed with her and even voiced it myself, yes, we're moving too fast. I moved a bit back with more comfort-kissing, then again arousal, but still she opposed resistance. This second time, a voice in the back of my head told me to stop, and don't push her too much. I went back to comfort-kissing, and we both fell asleep.

    [ Later she confessed that at the time she was still with her boyfriend, who dumped the day after, so she could be free for me to take. Don't ask me why this line of thought, she just done it this way. ]

    Day 4 (18/11/2016)
    Good people drink good beer: we met again in the afternoon for a pint in the same seedy pub our of first meeting, but this time we were alone. While chatting I started a subtle kino escalation, then, while holding arm in arm in a booth, I slowly lowered my voice and briefly smelled her hair - God, you smell so fucking good…I have to stop talking to you now.

    She laughed and re-initiated the chat, just as Mystery told in his seminars:

    I looked at her, and than dropped a slightly adjusted "Travel Bag Routine", that goes more or less like that:

    Oh my fucking god, I'm so glad that I came out that first day, when we met here. It's crazy, but if you think about it, if we gonna relive that day again, I wouldn't be here. The statistical probabilities of me going out...I mean, my friends dragged me out, I was so not gonna go, but I had to help W. with that Polish girl he met - you know, my friend are loyal to me and I want to be there when they need help. This is a whole series of events took place...the fact that I went out, you went out, and I met you, and I'm…happy that I went out. If I wouldn't come out, I wouldn't have met a great person such as you. I went home and I was happy to have met you, and that's so twisted. You know...I've been so cynical lately: there are some many people on the planet, and so many of them are so boring, and similar one to the other - like an endless sea of ash - and someone like you comes up and you're like a fucking diamond.

    You know, this is the weirdest thing, but...I have a fetish. Not some of those fetishes, no sexual fetishes - everyone has something - but by the way I have this weird thing.

    Let's see... imagine we are six months in, we're at some point we're doing some shopping, while walking along in the middle of the conversation we will naturally find ourselves on automatic pilot from time to time. We end up going where we're always just go and and for you it would be like...I don't know, Victoria’s Secret. I will be waiting outside "babe, come along, uhm...".

    That's strange but my automatic pilot you think would bring me, you know, because I'm a guy, to look at computer stores and gearhead places; but of all places I always find myself in…travel bag and luggage stores! I don't know why, just some ethereal quality about travel bags that draws me, captivates me. I have all the travel bags I need, luggage bags, but there's something more about it…I love looking at them, because I was think to myself somehow - maybe this is what it is - a travel bag is a good opportunity to have adventure.

    You just organize, you’re ready to go and off you go! Yeah, and it's the weirdest thing but I don't know why it happened, there's a reason I bring this up: is the last like 10 minutes talking to you I look at you and - I mean you're just you're actually beautiful girl but the truth is it's a lot of beautiful people in here and...I had beautiful girls in my life before and I'll not sugarcoat it - but there’s something about you that…I'm just so fucking drawn to you. It's ridiculous, but I can't help but look back to you. So I guess what I'm really trying to say is…

    you are like a travel bag!

    Isn't it weird?
    [ That routine is pure gold, and even if I keep it as an ace in the sleeve and rarely use it, I have a 100% success rate when I do. Again, thanks to the internet to have provided that material and to Mystery to...well, be Mystery, he changed my life. Unfortunately at the time he was doing seminars I was I think 6yo, so I couldn't attend. If somebody knows him, send my regards ]

    While talking I could literally see her expression changing, her pupils widening, her breathing accelerating while her heartbeat was rising. She stared at me for a couple of seconds, then she looked away, blushing, smiling. We kept talking for a while, but somehow everything in her behavior changed.

    I left her and went back home: I had to set up the apartment for the upcoming party: me, my roommate, a couple of guys more and at least 22 girls. Strange memories on this nervous night in our apartment. Too much drinking, too many people, too many weird things happened.

  4. #4

    I wana know what happened next man I really enjoyed reading those

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