Lay Report: Fancy a Kickabout in the Park?

I’d be lying if I said she was this hot.

The Approach

  • I met Natalie in mid-January with Dav in Islington on Upper Street. The same day I met Spanish slow-play girl.
  • 5-feet-7, slim body, cute face
  • Irish, outwardly confident, and 23 years young
  • A very banterous conversation. I remember her being a very active verbal participant who was trying hard to be funny–a big green flag
  • She was on the way to work in a health food café. After 3 mins, I took the number and let her go so she wouldn’t miss her shift
  • However… I was slightly put off by a mole just to the left of her nose, which at the time appeared to be a dodgy colour. Possibly for this reason, I didn’t follow up. *Hangs head in shame*

Valentine’s Day: Message Out of the Blue

If only every girl messaged first
  • One month later, on Valentine’s Day itself, I received an SMS from an unknown number out of the blue
  • Huge IOI obv
  • I racked my brain to remember who she was, eventually roughly remembered
  • From then on: slow but consistent frequency of messaging, all positive
  • I gradually came around to the idea that a small mole can be overlooked for a girl this keen–plus if I approached her that means she must be attractive enough, mole-aside 😉

The Day 2

  • I got her to come to Angel tube one Monday night
  • Due to her time restrictions, she arrived at 9.30pm
  • Took her to standard bar/pub on the High Street
  • Immediately it became apparent she was an extravert who had lots of guy friends
  • It would be easy to read lots of false positives into such a girl rabbiting on, with lots of beta bait tests
  • She told me she has a skateboard and is a tomboy
  • But very socially savvy–I bet she often has to out-manoeuvres beta guys creeping on her
  • Apparently her sister is the introverted one with her head always in a book; whereas she’s the rough-and-tumble one. They’re polar opposites. At some points facing the barrage of words coming from her mouth, I wish I was with the sister 😉
  • Good promiscuity signs: She told me of a small tattoo on her back; she also drank wine fast and wasn’t afraid to order a round
  • I stayed alert enough in conversation to interject and frame control when needed. I challenged her a lot, otherwise could’ve easily been run over
  • However, given she was Little Miss Chatterbox, I didn’t have enough time to “work my magic”, or really let enough sexual tension build
  • I let her escape to get the last tube. This didn’t seem negotiable with tomorrow’s plans.
  • Status at this point was: (1) early kino checked off, (2) no kiss attempt, (3) vague pull intentions hinted at… (4) but no pull attempt executed
Like this but more body

Texting after Day 2–Do I Fancy a Kickabout?

  • Continued messaging most days after the Day 2
  • She suggested a “kickabout” in the park on Sunday morning before she headed to work. Wow, there’s a first. Tomboy confirmed
  • I laughed to myself and thought “actually, why not?“; it was different from the norm, it could be good practise for filler dates, plus it’s an excuse to get physical
  • Unfortunately on the Sunday morning she flaked–she said she was hungover. No football date after all, waaahh
  • Instead we set up a proper Day 3 the following Friday
“Fancy a kick about?” Ermmm…

The Day 3

  • Following the flake, she suggested meeting in Angel on the Friday for a comedy night at a local pub–a big green light to go for the pull that night since she’s arranging the date in my neighbourhood
  • I obviously wasn’t enthused about the comedy but, according to the website, the comedy started at 8pm, so I figured we could be done with it early
  • We arrived at the pub at 7.45pm; unfortunately tickets were only left for the later 9.15pm showing
  • She was intent on still watching the 9.15pm showing, even after my objections. So I compromised and said we’d sneak out after the first act or if we weren’t laughing enough
  • We grabbed a drink in the pub in the meantime
  • I found out she had to wake up at 6am the next morning, to work the breakfast shift at the café. Because of this, she hinted at needing to get the last tube later on
  • At this point I told myself to step it up a gear, escalating much quicker, and leading conversation way more. Time to switch to closer mode, Jamie!
  • From this point forth I was uber-aware that the window of opportunity was closing, and I’d have to hurry things along more than I’d normally like to
  • I figured if we stayed and watched the full comedy, the pull would be very unlikely. The last tube seemed like a condition I’d have to work with, rather than an objection I could sidestep
  • At 9.15pm she didn’t forget about the comedy (I wasn’t going to mention it; I hoped she’d forget!). So we went upstairs to find our seats
  • In the small auditorium I made sure we sat at the end of an aisle near the door!
  • At 10pm I pulled her out of the comedy in the dark. We ducked our heads and squeezed out past people standing behind
  • I led her to a different pub near mine: final venue
  • I decided to go for the kiss to make clear my intentions with this girl. She probably has lots of guys pussyfooting around
  • Success! We kissed here, although it wasn’t the smoothest–when I decided to go for it, we didn’t start off with our faces very close to each other. However, it worked well enough and no objection from her
  • Shortly after this, I pulled her back to mine. It was now before 11pm. I still had the last tube in the back of my mind
  • No LMR in the bedroom, but as she was casually taking her clothes off she did mention we had to be quick, with the last tube looming. Ha, this made me laugh! I also thanked God I’d hurried things along and executed
  • So apparently sex is no big deal to her if she likes the dude and he doesn’t friend-zone himself. Bet a lot of guys in her social circle are stuck in the friend-zone
  • She had a great little body, albeit not a naturally curvy one–turns out she studied sports science and nutrition at uni and is even qualified as a personal trainer
  • Post sex interview: she said she was only aware that sex was actually gonna happen at the final venue (when I made explicit about going back to mine).
  • During sex she enjoyed playing with my gooch A LOT. When I enquired as to why she was so fixated on it, she said that her gay flatmate gave her tips that guys like this. Good studying Natalie, have an “A” for effort!
  • After the deed was done, good vibes and joking
  • And then, within an hour of getting back to mine, she soon got dressed and hurried off to make her way home. Great girl!

Thanks for reading.

Jamie.

Continue Reading

+1: The Forgotten Girl, Part III

Part I here. And Part II here

Like a young Katy Perry

At the end of Part II, I’d just finished a quick-and-unexpected Day 2 with the 19-yo South African au pair. Quick rundown of events up to that point:

  • I had originally opened her on the Strand at the beginning of December. She was testy, and judged me for being a player.
  • I had since forgotten all about her, and had mistaken her for a different girl when she messaged out of the blue.
  • I was surprised to meet her on the Day 2, expecting the different girl.
  • The Day 2 was only 90-mins long, after which she left for a pre-planned Christmas Carol concert.
  • After that I said that I expected her to be “a pain in the arse over many dates. Or maybe she’s seen enough of me anyway, and is ready to move on herself.”
  • So it was fair to say that expectations weren’t super high for this one.

So then why–on Thursday evening, four days later–was I rushing out of work on time and darting to catch a train from Waterloo to take me to a train station in Zone 6 that I’d never heard of before, just to meet her??

Well it was all to do with a phone call I received from her out of the blue at 23:58 on the Monday earlier in the week (the day after our Day 2).

On Monday evening, I had been doing some tax admin stuff at home. It was getting late. Earlier I’d been messaging with her back-and-forth a couple of times. Closing in on midnight, my phone lit up. I was surprised to see the incoming call symbol alongside her name. Lately I’d been experimenting with sending voice notes, and had been listening to old RSD Todd pre-date phone calls, so I was confident enough with my phone game to answer the call and see where this went.

Me, picking up: “Hey you

Her: “Heyyyyy Jamie hehehe

Me: “You sound so [ comment about the sound of her voice ] over the phone.”

Her: “Hehe. Yeah, some people say that I [ blah blah blah–I can’t remember exact details]”

She sounds very warm. To begin with we vibe, chatting away while I tease her. I briefly tell her about my day, I ask her a couple of light-hearted questions, and I generally keep up a flirty conversation–frequently returning to the theme of “us”. I aim for us to behave like two flirty teenagers [1] at school, who fancy each other and are up all night talking on the phone, while their parents sleep. She sounds like a completely different girl to who I originally met on the Strand three weeks earlier.

A few times she drops information into conversation which strikes me odd, being inconsistent with the general flow. She says that she wants to go ice-skating at Hampton Court, which is very close to her host family’s house. Soon after this, she just happens to drop into conversation that her host family are out of town from Wednesday evening and that she’ll be in a free house all alone, then hinting at me going over. She could be playing games, but from my frame so far, she knows I’m not going to follow her every request like a chode. She also doesn’t have many friends in London, so will likely actually be all alone. Lastly to note: she’s going back to South Africa in one month, and so I assume she won’t be looking for a boyfriend in her remaining time here. There’s also something in her general tone which is more mischievous from the player-judging girl I’d opened three weeks prior. My spidey senses were tingling.

In terms of jumping at the vague invitation, I don’t take the bait. Instead I say that, although it might be cool to visit her there for a bit, I do have a busy week and that it’s kind of far away. Plus I say I still don’t know her that well. Disqualification overdrive. At this point she doesn’t withdraw her half-offer, or deny that she was inviting me. She still seems to want for it to happen, and isn’t rescinding the offer. I give her some glimmer of hope: “But there’s a chance that Thursday miiiiiight work. How about this though: we don’t set anything in stone yet but we speak tomorrow, see how our weeks are looking, and then we make a call then.” I love the game.

The next day, the Tuesday, I forget to follow up [2], and she messages me at 10pm:

Be spontaneous and find a way to meet me at Hampton Court at 5 on Thursday” *Shrug emoji*

Me: “Challenge accepted if we make it 7

I was the girl this time–she led more than I did

So, I broke the player’s rule and let her control the logistics. However, I was still standing and hadn’t been struck down by a lightning bolt sent from the Daygame Gods. With 95% of girls I see, I’d never let this situation happen, even going so far in the past to cancel dates when logistics weren’t obviously in my favour. However, some weird intuition in the back of my mind told me, that given this precise context, going along with her plan was the correct course of action here. Sometimes the girl will tell you how to sleep with her [3], and we gamers are often too set in our rigid ways to realise when this is the case. I desperately hoped that this was one of those occasions.

On arriving at her station at 7pm, we first walk the five minutes back to her host family’s house, where she pours us both a wine. It’s a fancy detached house on an quiet and expensive street, and the entire grounds sprawl over an acre or two. Inside, the rooms are vast and it looks like a lot of money has been dropped on interior design.

As for her, she’s visibly nervous and excited. We’re stood in the kitchen, leaning against opposing countertops. I allow silences to sit, which ramps up the tension. She feels obliged to be a good host and breaks the tension each time. She shows me that she’s pre-booked the ice-skating tickets and has also reserved a table for dinner in a local pub too. It doesn’t appear to be an everyday thing for her. She’s printed out all the tickets already too. Great investment on her part I think. (Although the host father is paying for it, she’s had to arrange it all). I make sure the gesture doesn’t go unrecognised and call out the effort she must have gone to beforehand. She fights the frame saying that if I couldn’t make it she would have gone with someone else anyway. Cute!

With this rendezvous, I’ve now visited three different London au pairs when their host families have been away. This time, I felt like Philip Jennings (the undercover Russian spy) from The Americans when he entered the house of one of the heads of the CIA late at night, having befriended and seduced the teenage daughter, Kimmy. However, back in reality in South West London, the host parents here were not members of an intelligence agency, but had high-flying city jobs.

Philip’s seduction skills were on point in the early seasons of The Americans

At 7.40pm we leave for ice-skating. We arrive, change into skates, and drop her bag in the cloak room. I charm the young guy working at the counter and persuade him to put her bag away for free (just because). There was a time when I shied away from external social interactions/interruptions when in-set. Now I actively seek them (in potentially favourable situations, anyway) and use these opportunities to showcase any hard-earned social skills I may have picked up during my game career 😉 Passive attraction can be powerful.

Ice-skating was a great choice. Whereas she’s only just competent enough to stand up on the ice and gingerly inch her way across, I’m gliding around effortlessly and taking the teacher/expert role. (I used to ice-skate week-in, week-out when I was 11 to 14, and then roller-blade from 16 to 17; thankfully I still remember a trick or two). We do some laps, I prank around, and we stop and chat. Rinse and repeat. Throughout this we hold hands a little, but I make sure to disengage before it’s too lovey-dovey, or too predictable. We pick up the questions game from the Day 2, but I kick it up a gear in intimacy. We’re soon settling into the usual question game topics–kissing, masturbation, losing virginity, public sex, and so on. It turns out that she’s had only two sexual partners so far in life, but has had sex an estimated 150 times. Those sound like good numbers to me.

45 minutes later and the skating session has finished. When unlacing the boots, she attempts a jealousy plotline: to flirt with a similar-aged (to her, that is!) boy sat next to her on the bench. He has no social skills and is visibly petrified, probably because he’s a horny teenager and she’s hot. Even though she perseveres, it backfires. He ends up blanking her and turning away, and I give her a knowing nod and a chuckle.

After skating we arrive at the gastropub she’s booked for dinner. Compared to my usual dates at the local dive bar/pub, this is now getting quite excessive! It’s quite fancy, and although the other patrons are old, I continue to play around and tease. I don’t like dining with a girl, but since she was fairly naïve and new to dating, and also prepared to invest by arranging the booking, I was fine making an exception. I felt like this was all a new, exciting experience for her. The implications of dining with a 26 year old city girl would have been very different. We split the bill and head back to the house.

Back at the house she changes into pyjama bottoms in front of me. I ignore. We’re in the kitchen and she says she doesn’t want to drink any more (she only had half a glass of wine at dinner), which I take to be a bad sign.

We’re standing in the kitchen once again, and when the conversation goes sexual I turn up the physicality dial. She’s no angel and is actively engaging. We’re allowing our lips to come oh-so-close to one-another’s without actually touching, and I’m doing the usual heaving breathing and light neck kissing/biting. However, after two minutes of this, I’m the first one to commit to an actual kiss attempt, which unfortunately gives her the opportunity to reject me. She pulls her head away with a knowing smile. Fuck!! I was patient but not patient enough! I should’ve had her begging for it first.

She takes a step back and says “I’m sorry“. She smiles with a small look of delight and takes a breath in. It looks like she’s about to continue talking. Fuck! The pity talk is about to begin! Abort!! Abort!! The pity talk is every seducer’s kryptonite. It explicitly puts her in the position of power: it implies you’re a weak predictable man, and that her SMV is leagues higher than yours. Never listen to, acknowledge, or let her finish the pity talk. I try the pattern-interrupt:

Woah woah I just wanted to tell you a secret. I can’t believe I let you use your feminine wily charms there. Stop seducing me

She re-starts, whilst smiling with what appears to be validation and enjoyment: “Look, I’ve recently come out of a relationship and whilst you’re really good at what you do–I haven’t ever felt goosebumps all over my body like that before–I just don’t think I can right now.”

I try the pattern interrupt again, but it’s fruitless. Now she’s moved and sat down the other side of the kitchen table too, introducing a physical gulf between us. I continue standing, and don’t close in, to avoid appearing needy or chasing.

She’s smiling throughout, and whilst not being the biggest tease I’ve ever encountered, she is definitely enjoying her moment. Whilst smiling a big grin she starts to say “But we can be friends if you want” She starts to say “I’m sorry” again with the look of mock-pity, whilst smiling. I have to take action. I jump in:

“Look, I’m the one who should be sorry. You’re a cool girl and all and I really like the connection we’ve had so far. But you know I have options, right? And yet at the same time I’m very selective. I don’t just go for any girl–as I hope is the case for you with boys. Obviously for me there has to be physical attraction. And on top of that there also have to be other things like good humour, intelligence, original thinking, etc. But that’s kind of a given if I’ve got this far with a girl. With every girl I see again and again, we’ve had to have that deep connection, where we don’t hold back for anything or anyone in the world. And at the moment I just can’t see you being that girl for me. I’ll wish you well and of course say hi if I bump into you on the street, but it would be a waste of my time to see you when I have other girls around who are actually on the same wavelength as me, and who give themselves to me fully. So with you I just don’t think I would see you again after you put the brakes on. Plus I have lots of friends already. I’d obviously wish you well though, we just wouldn’t ever see each other again.”

She looks up at me, down and then starts to look at her phone, casually typing something. She doesn’t appear upset or perturbed. I go to sit at the table, but choose the chair rather than the bench and slide it further away from her, like hot girls have sometimes done to me by default. “Why are you sitting so far away?” she says. “Oh am I? Didn’t realise” I say. I’m still cool, calm and collected. Today my emotional control is better than it has ever been before in this situation [4]. I’ve definitely given away my true results-dependent feelings at crunch points like this before.

Then she looks at the phone. I look up at the clock. It’s around 11.30pm–the time of the last train from her stop.

Her: “How would you get back though? It says here it will take one-and-a-half hours.”

Me: “Oh shit, it’s that late?? Well I’d rather not travel for one-and-a-half hours now if I can. Or spend £50 getting an Uber… So–and this is only if you’re cool with it because if you want me to go I can–I could stay here and jump on the easier train into work in the morning.”

Smile from her. Then, chirpily: “Yeah that’s fine. And you can share my bed. Or if you’d prefer you can sleep in [kid’s name’s] room? And do you have something to wear other than jeans, because I don’t want jeans in my bed

Wow! Talk about a change in apparent fortunes. It’s gone from game over to back-in-the-game just like that. I’m confused but I’m assuming that it’s all good again and that I just have to go along with the flow. There’s a look in her eyes that says she’s still feeling sexual. Also, the wry grins that had accompanied her objections so far are definitely a good sign. So many emotional back-and-forths from her. Female caprices, pfft! Or maybe it was all a calculated game on her part. Maybe she’s playing me at a whole other level. Maybe she’s the master seducer…

We go upstairs, separately brush our teeth, and pee. Before I remove my jeans, I get her to verbally and logically realise that the contours of my crotch will be very visible, and are you ok with that? She’s fine, she says. I’ve been getting more logical decisions and acknowledgements from girls recently. Working your way up a compliance ladder (to bigger requests) is aided by both emotional- and logical- buy-in.

She suggests watching a movie on the iPad in bed. As she’s in the bathroom removing her make-up, I’m lying in bed searching furiously through Netflix films on the tablet. I’m attempting to find a movie that frames sex as being fun, exciting and quotidian. But unfortunately, because I want to appear decisive, I hurriedly select the only hooking-up rom-com where one woman gets accidentally pregnant. Hopefully she’ll overlook that pregnancy part…

Don’t watch

She comes back and we begin the movie. Under the bedcovers we’re laying on our sides and she’s reversing her ass into my crutch and wriggling. Pyjamas are still on though. We’re initially awake under the pretext of watching the movie, but soon we’re just talking over it anyway and continuing the questions game. The questions get more sexual and she can also feel me pressing up against her. When she answers a question about porn, I discover she’s really into taboo porn. And that she also likes the step-sister/step-brother porn. I make a note and two minutes later I’m loosely using this in my final seduction.

After more neck-biting from me, and grinding from her, I roll her over and position myself over her with my thigh rubbing between her legs. We’re finally kissing too, and she’s really letting go now. I’m breathing heavily into her ear. And whispering. I’m saying things to her like: “as friends, we really shouldn’t do this. But it does feel kinda good, doesn’t it“. Her: “Mm-hmm.”

Soon my fingers are inside her. I’ve reached around from behind, under her yoga-pant pyjama bottoms, and discovered that she’s dripping wet. She acknowledges just how turned on and wet she’s been as I slowly slip two fingers inside her pussy.

From there, the clothes fully come off and it’s never in doubt. I enter her, and we settle into a slow, sensual rhythm. I’m so turned on by her hot, nubile, young body that I have to practise some Mantak Chia-style breathing exercises and self-restraint, in order not to explode early on. Her waist-to-hip ratio is perfect and her pussy is just the right amount of tight. Her breasts are slightly undersized in proportion to her curvaceous ass, but I’m still adoring this fine specimen of a female. After the early near-explosion scare, I’m back out of the red-zone and we’re having some amazing sex.

Lays like this I’ll remember all my life. The girl was in her sexual prime. There were surprises from the start. And mistakes made from the start! There were multiple dates, spread over multiple locations. There were junctures where I went “off-piste” and didn’t follow what is written in the PUA handbook. There was a strong narrative in both our heads. And it seemed the final result wasn’t decided until the very end. It sure was a fun one.

Thanks for reading.

Jamie.

Bonus: Info gleaned from post-sex interview and other misc details:

  • she’d had 2 lays before me, including one LTR
  • the parents of the host family sleep in separate bedrooms and the relationship is very stale: they rarely talk to one another, let alone are intimate together. The mother is a finance director in the city; the father runs his own international business. They have three kids.
  • the father often sits with the girl late at night at the kitchen table, chatting away with her for two hours plus. She must drive him crazy, and leave him very sexually-frustrated. She says that the host mother is very cold towards her–I’m not surprised!

[1] Actually, one of us is a teenager.

[2] A bad memory can be a great tool for appearing abundant and aloof. That, or it might just lose you the girl!

[3] But not in so many words.

[4] Maybe because of my recent abundance I did actually mean most of what I was saying here, and so I didn’t need to worry about a mask slipping off, which would normally reveal butthurt emotions.

Continue Reading