I bang my first 21 year old Lithuanian dressmaker

June 29, 2013

I was discussing with Tom Torero recently about what’s the most effective model for banging top class tottie in foreign climes. Game is often taught like it’s a linear process of A is followed by B then followed by C. Not so. He uses the ‘air traffic control’ analogy of having many planes in the air and you’re watching them circle, keeping up radio chatter, waiting till one comes in to land. Some get diverted to another airport but so long as your airport is open you’ll have throughput. This has implications for Euro-harem game.

Tom's new girl mgt app

Tom’s new girl mgt app

One does not simply roll up in a foreign city, hit the streets, and come away with a top-quality notch. You might get lucky occasionally but it’s not a consistent and repeatable model. Realistically this is how it works:

  1. Number farm hard in the first couple of days. Open everything you’d fuck.
  2. Let the numbers filter themselves. There’ll be a few Yes Girls who are keenly responding and making things easy. Those are the girls you can fuck on this trip. If she’s near 30 she’s your hottest lead. Push for it. Kiss her first date. Fuck her second date.
  3. Most of the girls will need time, especially the hotter girls and the younger girls. You are highly unlikely to knock them over within a ten-day stay. Take them on a coffee date for an hour. Then a pub second date. Run comfort, get a kiss, don’t overescalate. Sink your hooks into her soul and get her on Facebook or Skype.
  4. Chat to her late at night every couple of days. Get into her head. Explore her hopes and dreams. Be the mysterious distant Other. Sexualise it gently. Prime her for your return.

That’s Long Game. If you expect to roll up into Oslo, Paris, Zagreb or wherever for a weekend and score a notch you are setting yourself up for a very very hard slog. You’re far better off leapfrogging visits. Budget the first trip to collect and filter leads then a second trip to close your top prospects (and preferably generate the next round of leads). So it was with this girl.

While on a Euro-tour with Tom I was walking down some steps into an underpass when a cute little squirrel of a girl comes flitting up the steps. Her fashion is like 1960s Paris. A soft bob, dainty shoes. So sweet and innocent. I open her on the steps saying something complimentary about her style. She hooks but has atrocious English. I find out later she visited England when she was 12 with school and loved it. I bounce her to a nearby cafe and by now she’s thrilled. We can barely communicate so she gets out a notebook and we draw pictures to convey information. I ask if she has a boyfriend and she almost screams “No!”

After an hour I take a number and send her home. She wouldn’t put herself in a position where she could be kissed.

But Slavic and bigger tits

But Slavic and bigger tits

Next date is a nightmare. I have ‘flu and she has clammed up and barely talks. I’m hungry but the first four restaurants are full so we’re walking around deserted streets in the cold and its not good. Finally we end up in Chilli Pica, a low-rent pizza shop. I can hardly keep my eyes open I’m so ill and she won’t talk. It’s awkward as fuck. I can’t put any kind of vibe or eye-mesmer onto her. After an hour or so I let her go. I swear to myself never to put myself through such a shambles again. I assume it’s one big horrible DLV and the set is dead.

Things turn around on Facebook. She’s an anglophile and just so completely thrilled to have a cool foreign guy as her little secret (she tells only her best-est friend about me). She’s sweet and lives with her mum and works as a dressmaker. Clearly inexperienced with men as she confirms later saying she’s had one boyfriend for four months when she was 19. The Facebook chats are limited to short sentences and 1000-word Ladder English vocabulary. Thank God for Google Translate. Nonetheless I’m warming to this girl. She’s just so pure and straightforward, and clearly has the suppressed fire of sexuality common to nerdy introvert girls.

It’s soon at the point where she’s opening me every evening. Girls often have boring lives. Young girls are very restricted in what they can do – living with parents, no cash, university workload, social pressure. Having a cool interesting foreign guy on the other end of chat is like a shining beacon of excitement. It took me quite a few lays to realise that. Picture the girl’s life. She comes home from work / uni on the normal bus to her pokey little room and starts checking her messages from the same boring old friends. What is the shiniest thing in that dull evening…… you!

I do the normal Facebook pattern. Talk about normal things for comfort, drop in some light DHVs about my life, ask her to choose a nice photo of her to send me, call her a squirrel to set up callback humour, put her on a points system, qualify her on cooking skills etc. Here’s a sample, I’ll let you pick out the Game lessons yourselves:

Her: Hi πŸ™‚

Me: Hi πŸ˜‰ I’m playing Resident Evil 6 boy’s fun!

Her: I sew a new dress for myrself now

Me: nice what colour?

Her: white

Me: very innocent just like you

Her: dress of guipure

Me: [after googling it] old France style I have a question. How many boyfriends did you have?

Her: 1

Me: Lithuanian?

Her: yes

Me: ok Β  Β Do I frighten you?

Her: a little

Me: that’s natural, I think you are not experienced with men and I’m quite powerful

Her: ??? I did not understand the sentence

Me: I am an older man and I have lots of life experience So my character is strong and you feel that

Her: and?

Me: that’s maybe why I frighten you a little

Her: yes

Me: you are brave

Her: yes

Me: What do you like about me?

Her: ears

Me: [link]


Her: Cheburashka with very big ears. your better

Me: thanks +5

Her: I think you have a good nature

Me: thank you. Most people think I’m a bad boy. I’m not

Her: Do you have children?

Me: No

Her: married?

Me: No

Her: why?

Me: I was married, but I divorced 4 years ago how long were you with your boyfriend?

Her: 4 months

Me: was it a happy time?

Her: very happy

Me: nice do you like to walk around parks, go to the cinema, cook food together etc?

Her: I love going to concerts, delicious food, a walk through the city and to dress

Me: to dress? tell me more about that

Her: at the school of my peers did not consider me a beautiful girl I decided to show everyone back I have things that are sewn to order I do not like black

Me: what is your favourite dress?

Her: orange-red

Then once I’ve arranged my next trip I start ramping it up a bit. Remember I hadn’t kissed this girl and had an awful Day 2 with her. I’ve pegged her at being timid and inexperienced so my goal is just to move her along far enough to close on a third trip. Then I show up in Lithuania.

She makes herself as free as possible for me. First date we have coffee and a drink. Again the kino is awkward. I’m still thinking its a timewaster set but because I like her and she’s so unbelieveably innocent-looking I persist. Second date I decide ahead of time I will get a makeout or burn it. She consents in the upstairs of a dingy cafe on some sofas, then admonishes me it’s “too fast”. Nonetheless she agrees to cook me scones the following afternoon. While cooking I do lots of light kino as I walk past her leaving an arm trailing across her lower back, or peer over her shoulder at the cooking so I’m breathing down her neck. She takes it all.

After food we are on the sofa watching pandas on youtube. Its a funny old vibe. The chat is stilted because of the language barrier but I can feel some deeply hidden electricity in the air. I pull her onto me so she’s sitting in my lap and start escalating. It never stops. She’s naked with barely a fuss. I stick my dick in her on the sofa to get my two strokes (for an officially-sanctioned notch) then carry her to the bedroom and ruin her. She fucking loves it. I was right – timid inexperienced introverts are a pent up volcano of sexual energy just waiting for a man to turn them out. Great sex. Great body. She does a really cute thing where every hard stroke her eyes spazz with shocked ecstasy.

Afterwards she’s confused. She lies next to me so I can feed her oxytocin with comfort – I want to keep this girl around for more. She looks at me with furrowed brows, perplexion in her features, and then starts punching me. Not hard, just little love taps to express her frustration. My guess is she wasn’t expecting sex but just fell into my mesmer stare and rolled over obediently. I think she’s also shocked how much she liked it rough. A Fifty Shades moment for her.

I do her a few times the next day to solidify it. You don’t own a woman until you’ve fucked her hard on three seperate occasions. One of my top two girls so far this year.

The Price Is Right

June 28, 2013

I remember back in 1998 when I first lived in London in a zone three houseshare one of the lads moved out and we put a classified ad up to replace him. One of the couples scoping the room was from Croatia. The dude was a normal guy. Tall-ish, slim, fairly well dressed. Nothing special one way or the other, seemed pleasant. The woman was stunning. Proper drop-dead gorgeous. At the time I wasn’t envious. It never even entered my brain I could compete for a girl like that.

An exaggeration, yesterday

An exaggeration, yesterday

More recently (post-game) those girls have been in my sights. Since clambering up the fuck ladder from 6s, to 7s, to 8s I’ve been looking at the hotter girls of God’s green earth feeling like that’s what I ought to be dating. And occasionally I have. Sometimes, however, I’d see normal couples walking around where the girl is hot and I’d get a little pang of envy. Even if I’d fucked six girls of equal quality already that year I’d look at her, look at him, and get a bit narked. That’s not good.

So my mind turns and I think about these couples. Mostly I realise this: when you see a fairly nondescript guy with a hot girlfriend you are seeing him at his peak. That is the hottest girl he’ll ever fuck. He’s probably hanging onto her for dear life, terrified that if he loses her then he’ll never get such sweet pussy again. I’m talking about normal chodes here, not guys who clearly have their shit together. I know this because I was that chode when my ex-wife was a clear two points higher than any other girl I’d fucked at that point.

When we do game we are giving girls a proposition they wouldn’t normally entertain:

  • Talk to me, a guy you don’t know from Adam, for a while and give your number
  • Come on a date, maybe two…. then fuck
  • And I promise you nothing

That’s a mighty big ask. Sure, it’s well within the realm of biomechanical parameters but it’s still a big ask. And we expect to pull it off once or twice a month with the youngest-hottest-tightest girls that we meet. We are paying peanuts and expecting princesses. Sometimes we pull it off.

Now put your Blue Pill glasses on and look at the price the typical chode pays for his girlfriend:

  • Exclusivity
  • Berated for looking at other girls
  • Buying her stuff, meeting her family, going to Ikea on Saturday afternoon
  • Putting up with her shit, and her insufferable friends’ shit
  • Letting her keep her own frame
  • Spending all of his precious finite life with her

He’s not doing her in the ass while slapping her face and calling her a bitch. She’s not overwhelming him with thoughtful affection and favours. He’s on a leash. That’s the price he pays for his pussy. When you learn game there are simple metrics that measure your progress.

More girls, hotter girls, less work, less drama.

I bang my first leggy 25 year old Russian programmer

June 27, 2013

Sometimes game comes down to recognising a small number of key signals and then acting accordingly. There’s always a reason why girls behave the way they do. Even when the signal is buried in a wall of noise if you know what to look for and how to read it, you can make things happen.

I’m in Russia with Steve Jabba. It’s my second day so I invite my gypsy fuck-buddy over for a rumble at 7pm. She’s the fourth girl to receive Krauser-lovin’ in the past nine days so when I’ve shot my bolt I collapse into bed and don’t want to leave for love nor money. Then Jabba gets on the blower telling me how much we need to go nightclubbing. Fucking hell….. that’s the last thing I want but he drags me out. We roll into one of the better clubs at 10pm on a Thursday night. It’s far from rammed but enough hot girls to make it worth the effort and this is Russia, after all, so they are way way hotter than the equivalent London club.

After a quick look around I sidle up to a bar in a quieter room next door to the main dance floor room. Leaning over I order beer and see a leggy blonde come in. She stands next to me to order. I roll off and tell Jabba (half-heartedly) “I’ll call that a proximity IOI”. That’s Signal One. At the time I’d have said it was 30% likely to have been a real IOI. She stays on her stool to drink. I’ll call that Signal Two, essentially prolonging the proximity IOI and now I think its 50% that she’s into me. She appears to be alone so far but its early days for the club. I open over my shoulder. Can’t remember what I said but it was playfully accusatory.

with worse fashion

with worse fashion

She hooks immediately. I can’t quite believe it because she’s taller than me, a typical long-legged Slav, and its not really in my reality to get girls like this in a club. So I stay diffident and low energy just pushing the conversation along then briefly bounce her to the nearby sofas. She wants to dance so I let her go. For the next twenty minutes or so I’m just talking to Steve from the edge of the dance floor.

Him: Somethings not quite right.

Me: What do you mean?

Him: She’s just dancing by herself on the edge of the dance floor. It’s not right.

Me: You think she’s a tart? She’s just in normal jeans, doesn’t look like a tart to me.

Him: Yes, but just something is a bit off.

I’m inclined to agree. A hot tall bird shouldn’t be in the club by herself, dancing. We are looking for needlessly complicated answers when I find out later the real reason. She looks at me a few times (Signal Three). “Get on the dance floor” admonishes Steve so we both go on and do some low-technique don’t-give-a-fuck dancing. Within a song or two the girl is dancing with us (Signal Four). She’s facing me the whole time and when I’m off to the toilet she’s doing the same to Steve. He later tells me she would’ve probably fucked both of us. I can believe it.

So I’m just dancing like a tool and it’s stalling out a bit. I don’t really know what I’m up to. It seems too easy, I can’t believe it could be like this. I’m looking for too much confirmation, too much signal rather than just trusting in what is there. Steve has a more intuitive grasp and nudges me, “take her off the dance floor”. So I do. She follows without a murmur.

We sit down on the sofas and I become more sure of myself. I give her five minutes of comfort, play with her hair and then kiss. She goes for it strongly. There’s still no friends interfering. She really is here alone. I review the signals:

  • Signal Zero: Girl comes alone to a nightclub on a Thursday night and just dances around by herself.
  • Signal One: Girl locates herself next to guy to order drink despite the bar being empty with lots of space.
  • Signal Two: Girl remains next to guy even though normal thing to do is take drink away from the bar.
  • Signal Three: Girl continues to snatch glances at guy from dancefloor.
  • Signal Four: Girl maneouvres into dancing close to the guy and smiles when he reciprocates. She doesn’t leave.

So really is there any doubt? One or two signals you could make a case for coincidence or an alternate reading but all together they point in one direction: it’s a DTF girl who fancies me. She’s latched onto the first guy who hit on her. I tell her “let’s go somewhere else” and she agrees. Taxi. Home. Shoes off. Music on. She just jumps me and tears my clothes off. She really really wants this.Β It’s an earth-shattering fuck. She’s gobbling my dick like a fatty at a McDonalds and screams in ecstasy anytime I touch her pussy. By the time I’m fucking her she’s got her eyes popping out of her head, clawing my back and screaming the house down. Fuck me does that bolster one’s confidence. Once I’m done she asks for my number and gets a taxi home.

Fuck me, that was easy.

Sure, I'll take that

Sure, I’ll take that

Discussing it over coffee with Jabba the next day I ask him to give his analysis so I can bring out the learning points for my lay report. “There’s nothing to analyse, she was just up for it” he says. Yup, it was that simple. It turns out she works hard as a computer programmer and just came out of a long relationship. She was due to return to her hometown for the weekend and wanted some fun. I was the right guy in the right place at the right time.

I meet her again a few days later for seconds. Over drinks she tells me “the sex was fantastic” and slips that she’s been thinking about it non-stop since. I take her home for another blinder and get to practice my one-man-DP on her again (fuck me, she likes that).

The moral of the story is be alive to the signals when something falls into your lap. Don’t overcomplicate it.

Be manly

June 20, 2013

So you want to look more masculine? Here’s the Krauser 4-Step Plan.

  1. Get older
  2. Grow a short beard / long stubble
  3. If you’re bald, crop your hair short. If you’re receding, don’t hide it.
  4. Don’t smile so much.

Just look at the difference in these Game of Thrones actors when clean cut (often in their younger incarnation) and when grizzled up.















I bang my first 29 year old Italian school teacher

June 18, 2013

I’m very much into Mediterranean girls with their big thick black hair, dark eyes and olive skin. Doesn’t matter if they are Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Greek, whatever – so long as they have the wop blood in them I’ll overlook their lazy hand-waving debt-repudiating cultural handicaps and focus on the dusky beauty.

I like wop girls. Wop men not so much. They are just half-adult mummy’s boys.

However I have trouble actually snagging a hot wop despite the aforementioned economic troubles causing a veritable flood of ’em entering London to work at Caffe Nero. They now seem to outnumber the East Europeans. Getting attraction is easy, getting them away from their social circle-selected boyfriend another matter entirely. A conundrum.

but a low eight

but a low eight

So I’m walking through Leicester Square one sunny Sunday afternoon with Bhodi when I spot a seated Chinese girl I can set him on. That set hooks so I wander off towards Trafalgar Square and soon find just what I’m looking for: tall, slim, pretty, introverted and… woppy. I open telling her she looks Portuguese and it’s a strong hook from the off. All green lights. She’s full of energy and trying just as hard to make conversation as I am. My woptimism grows. After about ten minutes I take the number and suggest a coffee. Text game is easy.

Me: Hey. It was nice to meet you. Are you always so friendly to strangers?

Her: It was nice to talk to you, I’m glad you stopped me for a chat… very brave!

Me: [next day] It’s a lovely day πŸ™‚ I’m off to the park with friends.

Her: Nice! Beautiful day! unfortunately today is house viewing day for me.. can’t enjoy the sun properly! Fingers crossed for tomorrow… Enjoy the park and the lovely sun! πŸ™‚

Me: Thanks hon. Good luck.

Me: [later that evening] How’s the viewing.. you still deciding between a palace and a cardboard box?

Her: Hahaha! I’m more oriented on the cardboard box at the minute! πŸ™‚ how was your day at the park?

Me: Sunny. Just having a beer now. Is tomorrow good? About 5pm

Her: Fine with me! Let’s see the weather and decide where to meet… what do you reckon?

Me: Sure. I’ll let you know tomorrow.

The sun is shining so I take the wopportunity to meet her in the park. It’s just so on, so fast. She’s giving me green lights on everything. We lie on the grass by the lake and within five minutes I pull her down next to me and another five pass before we’re kissing. I’m now left with a dilemma of whether I should try to take her home this date. I resist. Generally speaking if you fuck a Euro-girl on the first date or earlier its a one-off and she won’t be back. That’s not an iron rule but you’ve set the frame of adventure sport sex and she might demur from a repeat. Seeing as my goal is to build a rotation I hold fire and just keep it clean. Comfort, a walk, a drink and then send her home after two hours.

I’d been seeding the next date of her coming round to cook me Italian food. She’s jumping at the chance. At no point did any of this feel like reaching for it. So two days later I meet her in town, walk her through a nice mom’n’pop Italian grocers for supplies, then the bus to my place. I’ve fucked her before we even unpack the shopping bags. Literally just did the house tour ending in my room and she was all over it once her ass hit my bed.

It’s nice when it goes easy.

It’s easy to be playful with this girl too. She’s got a very pleasant chatty demeanour and takes the banter brilliantly. So while she’s cooking she lets slip that she used to work for an NGO. A proper do-gooding lefty. She’s 29 now and mostly grown out of it but I still mercilessly rib her for the next hour with every non-PC comment I can muster. Then I fuck her again and send her home.

There’s not much in the way of learning points here. She was a Yes Girl from the very first moment so I just had to recognise that, restrain myself from overgaming, and shuttle her along the path to sex.

I bang my first 21 year old German intern

June 14, 2013

NB – This report is out of sequence. The upcoming Italian report was four days earlier.

It wasn’t so long ago I was lamenting to my fellow daygamers that I have nothing going on in London – no solid leads at all. This is the downside of travelling so much. Taking a week off every month for away games disrupts the flow of your home game. So in mid-May I make a firm decision to hit the London streets until I’ve rebuilt a rotation. I have modest goals:

  1. Three girls on a weekly rotation
  2. Additional fast sex when the opportunity arises

That’s not too much to ask. My first weekend is unlucky for all the usual reasons – girls have boyfriends or about to catch a flight home and so on. My street patter is ok so I don’t take it personally. Then the next weekend my luck breaks. I do about ten sets, get four numbers and all four hold. First up is a Frenchie idate that doesn’t quite work. Then there’s a black African shopgirl giving me the eye as she walks past on Oxford Street (yes, I actually cop an IOI for a change) so that leads to a date and probably an upcoming blogpost. There’s a nice Chinese girl and then a strong hook from an Italian. I’m pleased.

Every young girl wants adventure

Every young girl wants adventure

After closing the Italian midweek I take my foot off the pedal. On Saturday I spend the afternoon in my favourite Caffe Nero reading an old Enid Blyton favourite until about 3pm when I shut the book. Decision time. Do I turn right towards my home and Bioshock Infinite or do I turn left towards the underground station and see what is on the streets? I turn left. Coming out of Green Park station I see the sun shining and people picnicking. I’m feeling chill and stateless. No intent but also no pressure. I slowly saunter through the park remembering Jon Matrix‘s old advice of letting all your energy and weight sink down into your legs to relax you. Coming out to Buckingham Palace I see my dream set.

Tall. Brunette. Camera. Tour book. Sensible walking shoes. Tight jeans….. and a rucksack.

I’ll say this again because it needs saying. Learn to cold read girls. Some of its obvious but ruminate on the clothing for a moment. A girl who puts on jeans and trainers has obviously planned to be walking around alot for sightseeing. She’s not expecting to meet anyone. So when you encounter her at 4pm its a strong bet that she’s been walking around for hours with no social contact, her feet hurt, and she’d love to idate.

My opener is the usual stuff about being an obvious tourist and I assumption stack on her being Central European, probably Slovakian. I “disbelieve” her on the “I’m German” because she doesn’t have a square head or lederhosen. Easy hook. Turns out she’s a competitive athlete. That explains the washboard stomach and toned legs. After ten minutes I walk her off through St James Park. As she keeps making conversation I know this is headed somewhere. Nonetheless it surprises me how fast.

Longer legs and drop a point

Longer legs and drop a point

Venue 1 is the park. I just want her walking with me to build momentum. It then seems really natural to finish the walk in Venue 2 – the cafe inside the National Gallery at Trafalgar. Beforehand I’m framing her about acting like an English lady to drink real English tea. I send her to get seats while I order tea. That’s a nice Β£4 idate. I’m doing mostly comfort with occasional spikes. She’s sedate but interested so I tell her about Sherlock Holmes and bounce her to Venue 3 – the Sherlock Holmes pub. But its busy and I don’t want to be jostled so we end up in another pub around the corner. I’m playing with her hands and hair now, with no flinching. Amber light, keep moving forwards. She knocks back a pint, saying its easy to drink English “pussy beer”. Keep telling yourself that, love. So long as you drink…..

Venue 4 is a turkish souk in Covent Garden. Although the sun is beaming outside its dark inside and not the usual cloud of shisha smoke. She’s sitting next to me now and I start the questions game. Even at this late a point, two hours in, I’m not sure. You always have to make a move so I kiss her. Great. It’s on. Now the only question is SDL or Day 2. I’m starting to think about the African girl who is texting asking to meet after her work at 8pm. I decide to stall her until I know what’s going on with the German.

Venue 5 is the Hawley Arms in Camden, the pub Amy Winehouse usually passed out in (that’s part of my seeding of it). I want to get her closer to my house and also compliance test moving her. It’s still sunshine so its no surprise she bites. She’s been in London three days and is going to start a summer internship. She wants to look around. We get the underground. Its far less pressure to get a tube to a daytime market than a nighttime taxi home. I just feel her momentum behind me like wind in my sails. The girl has abdicated responsibility for her day. She even tells me she has nothing to do and I have as long as I need with her (big green light).



We have a pint each in the Hawley, standing against a wall. I can now work little touches and squeezes on her while locking in and making her move around me in a nice oak-tree/squirrel dynamic. I’m closer and closer to pulling the trigger. Its hard to point to any identifiable signals but my intuition is telling me this girl wants her London adventure sex now. I walk her outside and notice a minicab office next door. I tell her “we’re going to the next place” and walk in to order one, imploring the guy “as soon as possible”. Trigger is pulled, now I must brazen it out, hold frame, and lead. When I come back outside she pipes up:

Her: What did you do?

Me: I ordered a taxi

Her: Where to?

Me: The next place

Her: Where is that? (as we are getting into a waiting cab)

Me: My garden

Her: Ok

On the drive back I’m doing the usual bamboozlement to get her talking and not pushing any kino. We get wine in my local shop and then I give her the house tour ending at my room. Shoes off, music on, give her five minutes alone. She texts my address to her friend. The usual. The final escalation is quick. She lets me strip her naked with no fuss before I even have my t-shirt off. And then I’m fucking her.

She’s tense. Halfway through she needs me to roll off so she can gather herself. We chat while I stroke her hair and give physical comfort.

Her: I need to text my friend again. She wants to know I’m ok.

Me: What will you tell her?

Her: She’ll love this story. It’s so typical of me





My heart stops. Did I fuck up my calibration so bad? She’s got virginal written all over her and now she drops this bomb. Five minutes later I’ve got my dick in her again and I do the interview.

Me: You haven’t had much sex before, have you? (she has appalling technique, very stiff and clumsy)

Her: No

Me: Can you count how many times?

Her: Twice

Me: Two men?

Her: Yes. One was my friends older brother. The other was a school friend. One time each.

Me: What did you mean when you said your friend will love this story?

Her: I’m quite impulsive and like adventure (I relax)

Me: When did you know I’d be fucking you?

Her: In the souk. Before then I still wasn’t sure what you wanted

So there it is. Meet the girl at 4pm and fucking her by 9pm. A sweet leggy young German. Seeing as she’s hot and I want her on my rotation I fuck her twice that night then meet her the next day for comfort in Hyde Park and another fuck at home. Add to skype before my holiday and there it is. A new girlfriend (of sorts).

The African texts at 9pm to say she’s too tired after work and can we meet another day. A bird in the hand, and all that….