A couple of weeks ago V and I met up and went to a house party of a friend of his. It had been a stellar day of Daygame for me even though the rain had been lashing down; in fact, it was the day that I number closed #52 as well as three other girls, two of which came out on dates as well (but I didn’t fuck them).
V had promised me excellent ratios, and he delivered on his promise splendidly. As we walked in I spied about five guys and then another ten or so girls: very promising indeed. The party had been set up by a true natural, who was about 28 years old. He said he “stopped counting around 40” when we enquired his notch count. V and I are always curious to know the numbers that naturals get. He was a very chilled out guy who knew a few facts about every country, it seemed, so he could begin a conversation with everyone there. In fact, it seemed that he had at some point dated every girl there, although only fucked a couple. What would happen is he would meet them, date them for a bit, and then start inviting them to his parties. I talked to him later on about whether he was running some kind of Game and he seemed oblivious to it. V and I conspired later on, and agreed that we thought he’d had his fill of lays, and now was purely into the emotional side of women.
Immediately upon entering the room I was ambushed by Magna;
“How tall are you?!”
Magna was a Polish girl who had tired eyes but was still pretty and tall (for a girl; around six foot I think); a nice slim body as well. We flirted for a little bit before I palmed her off onto another conversation and worked the room a little, striking up a conversation with two girls nearby.
After an hour or so V and I reconvened outside to have a cigarette and we both gave each other a knowing nod. Unlucky for him he had brought his girlfriend with him so had to act on the sly. To his credit, he ended up getting the Facebook of one of the girls there who he was tooling. Lad.
Magna and I would run into each other now and then but she’d always giggle and run off. I’d had enough of the cat and mouse game and pulled her outside to isolate and then kiss her. But then it was more of the cat and mouse: we’d talk, I’d escalate a little, we’d kiss, then she’d run away. I’d had enough again; I ran some mental calculations and didn’t think that she would be up for sex that evening, and I was a little annoyed at her anyway for her constant flights, so I turned my attention a cute half Colombian half English girl I’d been speaking to later. Let’s call her Amelia.
I did the same thing: we chatted, I brought her outside, I escalated, I kissed her, I dirty talked her. I went further with Amelia though as she wasn’t playing any of the games that Magna was, and as we made out I put her hand on my dick and my own hand between her legs. She was damn wet alright. I could tell that she was thinking about sex with me and wanted to fuck me badly. I knew because she would giggle whenever I told her the smutty things I’d do to her; later on I’d even slap her face gently and she giggled again. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t bounce to her room (she lived in the house). I set up a date there and then with her to lock her down.
This is where the jealousy plotline comes in. As Amelia and I were making out, Magna appeared at the window and saw us, then stormed off. Perfect. Then as I was leaving at around 2am she flipped me the middle finger. Even better. I added her on Facebook using the event’s page to find her account, and awoke to her messages:
“Are you fucking kidding me?
What girl finally arrived in your bed?”
I responded and she proceeded to blow up my messages the next day, sending seven lines in a row (emoticons included) to my one line responses. But I calmed her down successfully and organised a date for the Thursday.
The Wednesday was my date with Amelia. I’d told her to dress rebelliously and she’d had an umm and ahh over messaging, before finally settling on an all black outfit. I guess she was qualifying in her own way.
I met her at the train station and walked her down to a wine bar where we had a glass, and oddly enough, a free jager bomb. There was an Irish guy there having some birthday drinks and we got enlisted for a round. As we were talking I just went through my regular verbal escalation and touched her a bit, before reestablished the kiss.
“You’re very tactile.” She said at one point. I’ve come to understand that this is code for keep touching me.
Then I bounced her to a darker bar and started the Questions Game where I found out that she hadn’t had sex for 10 months. Awesome! I thought, even though my facial expression was one of sympathy.
From there we finished up the rest of our drinks while I heated her up, and again put her hand on top of my dick (just to be sure, you know 😉 ), then walked her back to mine. We were fucking within twenty minutes after a very small amount of LMR, which was down to her low N. I’d later learn that I was her fourth, which at 26 was quite a surprise. She didn’t have any slutty tells so I believed her. She even said that her friend, who she was seeing the next day, had always encouraged her to do something like this, and that she would be really happy to find out.
Then the next day was my date with Magna. We met in Carnaby and went straight to the Sacred Cafe where we kissed after about five minutes. Soon after that we were on a sofa and she was lying against me. It felt very on.
Then we went to the Old Coffee House but it was absolutely heaving, so we stood outside. Again, she pressed herself into me, which I saw as confirmation to go for the bounce home.
“Do you like the show Friends?” she asked me.
“Yeh I’ve watched it.” I paused before continuing. “Why don’t we go back and watch a few episodes.”
“I will not go back to yours.” she said in her stereotypical accent. Then she shrugged. “But I will not have sex with you anyway so it is fine.”
We took the tube back to mine and stopped off for some mixer, before lying on my bed with my laptop. It seemed as if I was going to pull off a nice little story here.
We watched an episode and occasionally I’d pull her in to kiss. I tried all my techniques to get her aroused, but the furthest I got was to put my hand up her dress, undo her bra with one hand, then squeeze her nipples.
“How did you do that?!” she gasped.
I squeezed her nipple again and I could see she was deliberating sex.
“No, I must go.” And she did her bra back up and I walked her to the station.
I was accepting of the situation and had mentally steeled myself for her moment of revenge. I expected her to want to get one back over me first.
I went for another date request on the weekend but she said she wanted a detox from alcohol. I rolled off and when I reengaged, she said she didn’t want to meet me for a date anymore. I wasn’t too fussed about wrangling a meetup out of her either. I suspect that she knew herself well at this point and so wouldn’t be led astray. Oh well.
3 thoughts on “#51: Jealousy Plotline”
Nice reports Tom.
It begs then question: do you think that you’d have been more likely to get the second lay with the tall polish girl if she hadn’t seen you kissing Amelia.
I’ve found recently if girls think I’m “too alpha” or put out too much of a player vibe, it blows the set because they just don’t trust me, even if they’re attracted. Or if you do get the lay, then they ghost you afterwards. 🤔
I don’t think so, just because I’d already dirty talked her and tried to pull her from the party for a drink elsewhere, so I was already in “too alpha” territory